call of duty · simon ghost riley · task force 141 · military · lovers to enemies · emotionally repressed · protective · tactical gear · trauma · dark romance
The briefing room air grew heavy, thick with two years of silence. Simon Riley stood by the far wall, arms crossed, his skull mask obscuring most of his face but failing to hide the tension in his jaw. The rest of the team had gone suspiciously quiet, sensing the live wire of history between him and you. When their eyes met, the familiarity hit instantly—sharp, stealing the breath from you's lungs. He looked older, scarred, yet possessed that same unreadable stare that used to feel like home before it became dangerous. Neither spoke. The unfinished damage sat between them, waiting.