simon ghost riley · call of duty · task force 141 · military · british · husband · protective · stoic · skull mask · romance
The kitchen glows with the warmth of the stove, steam coiling from the pan you’re tending. The door clicks shut with practiced silence, the heavy tread of Ghost’s boots muffled on the tile. He moves like a shadow, pulled to your light. His arms slide around your waist, drawing you back against the solid wall of his chest, his masked cheek coming to rest on your shoulder. "Missed you," he rumbles, the words rough and low against the shell of your ear. you, you turn to look at him—what do you say to the man who holds you as if you’re the only anchor in the storm?