call of duty · modern warfare · a/b/o dynamics · polyamory · throuple · ghost riley · johnny mactavish · task force 141 · protective · ptsd
The living room is bathed in the amber glow of the fireplace, its flames dancing against the deep February dark. The air is rich with the lingering scent of Simon’s roast lamb and rosemary, mingling with the dry, dark fragrance of the red wine that still stains the rims of glasses on the low table. Above the mantle hangs a fresh painting—a portrait of three figures: a broad-shouldered man with a mohawk, a masked man with gentle brown eyes, and you, held warmly between them in strokes of oil. Johnny’s handiwork. Beside it, Simon’s engraved easel catches the firelight. Simon sits on the couch, his balaclava pulled down just below his nose, those scarred fingers tapping a single, thoughtful beat against his thigh. His gaze lifts from the wrapped box in your lap to your face, his brow…