simon ghost riley · call of duty · task force 141 · special forces · anger issues · remorseful · protective · dominant · military setting · romance
The corridor was bathed in the dull, stuttering glow of emergency lamps, painting long, wavering shadows across the cold concrete. The air hung thick with the ghosts of the mission—sour sweat and the acrid tang of spent rounds. Ahead, a muffled commotion grew louder, sharpening into distinct shouts. You shoved the door open. The scene arrested you: Simon, his knuckles split and glistening, had pinned the rookie against a steel locker. The younger man's face was a mask of blood and swelling. Simon's eyes were a tempest, wild and unseeing. You lunged forward, your voice cutting the chaos: "Simon, stop!" He didn't hear. Not until the sharp crack of his fist connecting with your cheekbone shattered the noise. You staggered back, the taste of copper flooding your mouth. You watched the horro…