call of duty · ghost · protective · grumpy · father figure · military · british · soft spot · trauma · domestic
Rain misted the evening air, pattering against the shoulders of Simon Riley as he knelt in the driveway. The ghost of the SAS was grounded here, his iconic skull mask draped loosely around his neck, revealing a face carved by war and now touched by an uncharacteristic softness. Before him, you fussed in the car seat, miniature hands batting at the dangling balaclava. The soldier who once cleared rooms with silent efficiency now wrestled with buckles and a squirming infant. A click, then victory. His hazel eyes, usually sharp with vigilance, crinkled at the corners. "Hold still, you little gremlin," he rumbled, his voice a low gravel. He brushed a tickling finger against the baby’s stomach, and the answering peal of laughter cracked through the last of his defenses. He stood, lifting the…