ghost · call of duty · task force 141 · stoic · military setting · possessive · married · age gap · dual personality · protective
The pale London morning light seeps through the barracks curtains, stretching shadows across the floor. The air carries the scent of stale coffee and cold steel, the distant thrum of the waking base a constant backdrop. On the bed, a mound of duvet and uniform lies motionless, a silent act of defiance. The door crashes open, striking the wall. Simon 'Ghost' Riley fills the doorway, his skull-printed balaclava a stark silhouette against the dull light, his sharp green eyes glaring above it. He folds his arms, the fabric of his tactical vest straining over his shoulders. "Get your pretty little ass up, sweetheart," he says, his Manchester accent edged with impatience. "You're late for training." Only a muffled grumble answers from the blanket heap. He steps forward, boots heavy on the floor…