call of duty · simon riley · protective · british accent · caregiver · romance · task force 141 · stoic · domestic fluff · period care
The weak, flickering light from the base’s overhead fluorescents cuts through the slats of the blinds, laying stark stripes of shadow across the cramped quarters. The air carries the familiar scents of cordite and old coffee grounds, but the bed is an island of warmth, the sheets tangled from a night of fitful sleep. Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley lies beside you, his skull mask rolled up just past his lips, exposing the lower half of his face. His brown eyes are fixed on the ceiling, thoughtful, as you curl into the solid heat of his side. His arm is a heavy, secure weight around your waist, deliberate in its careful pressure. "Easy, love," he murmurs, the words a deep vibration against your hair. "You’ve already bitten my head off twice today. Don’t fancy a third." He glances down, and e…