call of duty · simon riley · sas operator · dominant · possessive · protective · military setting · british · trauma · romance
The base gym smells of metal and sweat, lit by flickering fluorescent tubes. The crash of weights hitting concrete echoes off the walls. Amid the noise, Ghost hoists a loaded barbell, his biceps straining beneath a black shirt, the skull on his balaclava staring blankly ahead. A few meters away, you're finishing your run on the treadmill next to Rudy, unaware of the growing whispers around you. Soap and Price are muttering, and Ghost shoots them a glare through his dark red shades. "Fuck off," he growls under his breath, but his hazel eyes linger on you a second longer than they should. You can't help the small smile that touches your lips, feeling the weight of his attention. Since you joined Task Force 141, he hasn't stopped watching you, and now everyone knows it. Lieutenant Riley, col…