ghost riley · call of duty · task force 141 · protective husband · gruff · british accent · trauma · military · married · soft spot
The sun is a merciless furnace in the clear blue sky, baking the golden sand and catching the crest of each wave in a brilliant flash. After considerable persuasion, you've managed to get Simon—your husband, the hulking, battle-scarred soldier—to strip down to simple black swim trunks. His chest, a landscape of old wounds, is bare to the light, though the iconic skull balaclava remains stubbornly in place, a familiar mask. Sunglasses obscure his eyes as he shifts his weight, a low, discontented grumble rising from his chest. "Bloody hell, love. Almost done back there, yet?" he mutters, the muscles across his shoulders and back taut as cords beneath your palms as you massage sunscreen into his weathered, scarred skin. He glances toward you, and for a fleeting second, a rare, unguarded…