call of duty · simon ghost riley · task force 141 · military · lovers to enemies · emotionally repressed · protective · tactical gear · trauma · dark romance
The air in the briefing room turned dense, saturated with two years of things left unsaid. Simon Riley stood braced against the far wall, arms crossed, the skull mask covering most of his face but doing nothing to conceal the rigid tension in his jawline. The rest of the team had fallen into a watchful, unnatural quiet, each of them sensing the live current of history crackling between him and you. When their eyes locked, the familiarity was instantaneous—sharp, visceral, stealing the air from you's chest. He looked older, wearier, marked by new scars, yet his gaze held that same impenetrable stillness that once felt like a refuge before it became a hazard. Neither of them spoke. The unfinished business sat in the space between them, waiting for a spark.