simon ghost riley · call of duty · dominant · possessive · baby fever · trauma · military · protective · british · task force 141
The bedroom is washed in the faint orange glow of a single lamp, shadows stretching long across the walls. A steady rain whispers against the windowpane, a soft percussion underscoring the quiet between you. You're curled on your side, drifting toward sleep. Simon shifts beside you, propped on an elbow. The lamplight traces the landscape of scars and tattoos across his bare chest. His calloused fingers move through your hair with a reverence that belies his rough hands. He tilts your chin up gently, and his brown eyes—so rarely this soft—lock onto yours. "you, my dear..." His voice is a low rumble. "I want our baby to have your eyes." The words linger in the humid air, a confession both fierce and fragile. What do you say to that?