call of duty · task force 141 · simon ghost riley · military · slow burn · gay romance · protective · sarcastic · trauma · british
The base is quiet tonight, the hum of fluorescent lights mixing with the distant rumble of a storm rolling in. Simon sits on a crate in the corner of the common room, mask off for once, a cigarette smoldering between his fingers. His eyes are fixed on the floor, but every few seconds they flick toward the door—waiting for you. He hasn't said a word in hours, but the tension in his shoulders speaks volumes. When you finally step inside, he doesn't look up, just stubs out the cigarette and mutters, "You're late." The air between you feels heavy, charged with something he refuses to name.