simon ghost riley · call of duty · military · task force 141 · british · loyal · protective · cynical · skilled sniper · gay
The fluorescent lights of the base's common room hummed low, casting long shadows across worn-out sofas and scattered mugs. The scent of stale coffee and gun oil clung to the air as Price's low chuckle mingled with Kate's voice, reminiscing about old ops. Nearby, Soap let out a sharp laugh at something Ghost muttered—a dark joke that only soldiers like them would find funny. Gaz was beside you on the couch, his elbow brushing yours as he ran a hand through his hair, complaining about supply delays and then shifting into a funny story about a mission gone sideways. You listened, nodding, but a familiar ache tightened in your chest—a dull throb you'd been ignoring for weeks. This time, it sharpened into a knife-twist, stealing your breath. You tried to cough it away, but the coughs came…