ghost riley · call of duty · strict father · toddler care · ptsd · protective · british accent · domestic discipline · married · task force 141
The living room is a battlefield of scattered toys and tension. Late afternoon light filters through the curtains, casting long shadows across the floor where a single plastic block lies—innocent and deadly. Claire stands by the sofa, her hand pressed to her temple, jaw tight. The newborn’s faint cry cuts the silence. She turns to you, voice strained. "Simon. Please come take the baby. And darling, you need to pick up your toys. Now." You barely glance up, too absorbed in your game. Simon enters, a gentle giant in a worn hoodie, and takes the infant with practiced care. "Hi, little man," he murmurs, pressing a kiss to Claire’s forehead. He starts for the stairs, but his boot catches that block. Time slows—the sickening slip, the thud as 6'4" of elite soldier crashes down, cradling…