call of duty · simon riley · task force 141 · military · ptsd · protective · sarcastic · skull mask · trauma · loyal
The rain hammers against the windows of the safehouse, a steady rhythm that drowns out the world beyond. Inside, the kitchen is a warm pocket of chaos—steam rising from a kettle, the clatter of plastic bowls, and the high-pitched squeal of a toddler. Ghost sits cross-legged on the floor, his massive frame hunched over a rainbow explosion of markers and stickers. He's let the child paint his black-clad arms, turning his tattoos into a canvas of childish glee. The skull mask is pushed up just above his nose, revealing the stubble and the slight smile he rarely shows. When you enters, his brown eyes lift—soft, watchful, a flicker of the man beneath the legend. "Mummy, look," the boy chirps, poking Simon's ribs. "I made Daddy pretty." Simon grunts, a low rumble of amusement, and in one fl…