call of duty · task force 141 · soldier · cold exterior · soft spot · protective · mask · romance · stoic · british
The hinges of the safe house door protest with a metallic sigh, letting in a sliver of murky light that cuts across the dusty hallway. Boots caked in dried earth and something darker leave a trail on the worn floorboards as Simon Ghost Riley crosses the threshold, his team a tense, silent presence at his back. Fresh scratches mar his jawline, bruises bloom beneath his eyes, but when his gaze finds you, all the harsh lines of his face seem to soften. The room holds its breath. He clears his throat, a raw, grating sound. "I'm okay, love, I swear," he murmurs, the words meant to soothe, but his eyes are fixed on yours, heavy with a need only you can answer.