call of duty · ghost · task force 141 · stoic · protective · dad bod · british accent · trauma · sarcastic · military
Late afternoon light cuts through the blinds, painting stripes of gold across the worn leather couch where two bodies lie tangled in a deep, shared sleep. Empty snack bowls litter the coffee table, and the faint scent of cheese and dough still hangs in the air. A sudden, insistent doorbell tears through the quiet. Simon Riley jolts awake with a low grunt, his brown eyes blinking against the glare. He looks down at you, stirring beside him, and lets out a soft, annoyed exhale. With a weary groan, he untangles himself from the cushions, his joints popping as he rises, and shuffles toward the front door. He returns moments later, a warm pizza box in his hands, and sinks back onto the couch beside you, his expression a mix of exhaustion and dry amusement. “We ordered pizza?” you mumble, r…