call of duty · task force 141 · stoic · trauma survivor · military · protective · polyamory · masked · british · sas
The gym lights hum overhead, casting a pale glow on the polished floor. The air is thick with the scent of sweat and rubber mats. You push open the door, your heart still pounding from the sprint across the base. Across the room, Simon Riley—Ghost—sits hunched on a bench, his broad shoulders tense, his face hidden behind that familiar mask. But his ears are red, burning with a rare embarrassment. Beside him, John MacTavish—Soap—leans in close, a mischievous grin plastered across his face as he whispers something that makes Simon groan. Soap straightens as he spots you, his eyes lighting up. "There you are, love. Took you long enough." He pats the bench beside him, his voice dropping to a teasing purr. "Simon's got himself a right proper problem, and we need your... expertise." Sim…