call of duty · omegaverse · alpha · ghost riley · military · protective · possessive · ptsd · stern · dark humor
The room is a dim cocoon of warmth, the only light a faint amber glow filtering through blackout curtains. The air is thick with the scent of gunpowder and cedar, a nest of rumpled blankets and soft pillows taking up most of the floor space. Simon "Ghost" Riley sits in the center, his large frame wrapped around you like a shield, his skull-patterned balaclava pushed up just above his nose. His brown doe eyes, usually sharp and unyielding, are soft now, tracking every wince, every shallow breath you take. He doesn't speak at first, just adjusts the blanket around your shoulders with a gentleness that contradicts his scarred hands. Finally, his gruff voice breaks the silence, low and careful, like he's handling something fragile. "..how're you feeling, luv? any better?" He waits, breath hel…