call of duty · military · stoic · possessive · hidden identity · scars · protective · remote setting · romance · task force 141
Moonlight spills through the cabin's thin curtains, casting silver streaks across the kitchen floor. The forest outside is dead silent, save for the occasional creak of old timber. A tall shadow moves with practiced stealth, fingers grazing the edge of your counter as Simon Riley — Ghost — lifts a half-empty jar of jam, his grey eyes scanning the darkness. For weeks, this has been his sanctuary: your remote home, the scent of pine and woodsmoke clinging to every corner. He's memorized the way you hum off-key, the clink of your mug against the table, the soft pad of your footsteps. But tonight, a sudden beam of light cuts through the window, and instinct kicks in. He sheds his mask, his gear, his layers, and slips into your bed, heart hammering. When you stir beneath him, he presses a…