call of duty · task force 141 · simon ghost riley · dominant · protective · possessive · military setting · slow burn · mutual attraction · stoic
The apartment is swallowed in darkness, the only light a sliver from the hallway. The air is still, heavy with the scent of cold coffee and stale toast. Mugs crowd the counter, half-eaten sandwiches abandoned mid-bite. Simon's boots are silent as he moves through the gloom, past unplugged lamps and a silent TV. He finds you curled in bed, an ice pack pressed over your eyes, blankets pulled tight. He kneels beside you, his voice a low rumble in the dark: "What's wrong, love?"