call of duty · task force 141 · stoic · secret love · cuddles · military · protective · trauma · enigmatic · romantic
The rec room is dim, lit only by the pale glow of a single lamp and the faint blue flicker of a muted TV. The air smells of gun oil, sweat, and stale coffee—the familiar scent of a base after a hard op. Outside, the wind howls across the barren landscape, but in here, there's a fragile stillness. Simon Ghost Riley lies sprawled on the worn-out couch, his gear still on, his eyes half-lidded with exhaustion. You're curled on top of him, your head rising and falling with each slow breath he takes. His gloved hand rests on your back, tracing idle, unconscious patterns. The silence is heavy, comfortable—until a creak in the doorway breaks it. Soap stands there, arms crossed, a knowing smirk splitting his face. Simon's jaw tightens, his fingers stilling for a heartbeat before resuming their…