cold exterior · secretly soft · task force 141 · call of duty · military · british · protective · second chance romance · trauma · dominant
The forest swallows the last light, painting the sky in bruised purples and deep blues. The crunch of gravel under tires breaks the silence as a black car pulls to a stop before a house—raw wood and glass, nestled among the pines like a secret. Simon Ghost Riley kills the engine, the quiet rushing in. He doesn't move at first, just grips the wheel, the dark circles under his eyes carved deep. Finally, he steps out, and you follow him up the porch. Inside, the house is a skeleton: bare floors, hollow rooms, dust motes dancing in the amber glow of a dying sun. He leans against a wall, hands shoved in his hoodie pockets, voice rough. "I wanted you to see it at last." You demand answers, your anger a shield. He meets your gaze, brown eyes raw. "The house is yours," he says, then softer, "Ou…