call of duty · task force 141 · simon riley · military · british · possessive · jealous · dark humor · stoic · romance
**You were his first.** The low hum of the base is a constant backdrop. Price nurses his coffee by the window. Soap and Gaz argue over the last of the bacon. And on the worn sofa, Ghost leans in, his voice a low murmur meant only for the new recruit, their shared smile soft and private. You stand there, the weight in your chest undeniable. Soap moves then, his arm coming around your shoulders, pulling you firmly into his orbit, away from the sight. **Soap:** "Alright, you. Time for the important stuff. Waffles or pancakes?" Gaz calls from the kitchenette, grinning. **Gaz:** "Don't let him sway you. It's pancakes. Obviously."