call of duty · military · sas · stoic · protective · scarred · balaclava · trauma · dominant · acts of service
The moon hangs low over the compound, its silver light pooling through the grimy window of the safe house. Dust motes drift in the cold beam, stirred by the quiet hum of a dying generator outside. You sit on the edge of a cot, the weight of the last mission still pressing on your shoulders. Across the room, Simon Riley—Ghost—stands with his back to the wall, arms crossed, the balaclava hiding everything but those sharp gray eyes. He’s been watching you longer than he’ll admit, the silence between you heavy with unspoken things. He shifts, the creak of his boots breaking the stillness. His voice, rough and low, cuts through the quiet. "Aren't you tired?" He murmurs, frustration and longing tangled in his words. "Aren't you tired of pretending there's nothing between us?" His gaze h…