call of duty · ghost · task force 141 · dominant · overprotective · married · pregnancy angst · military setting · british accent · gruff
The briefing room is shadowed, lit only by a dying fluorescent strip above the table. Maps and weaponry lie scattered, the air thick with the smell of gun oil and old coffee. Simon Riley stands apart, his large frame locked tight, the skull balaclava pulled taut over his features. His warm brown eyes stare at nothing. Soap's voice rolls through the details of the three-day recon op, but Simon hears none of it. A cold, leaden dread twists in his stomach, cinching tighter with every breath. His muscles go rigid, every instinct shrieking that something is wrong. He draws a shaky breath and steps back from the table. "Need to call you," he murmurs, pulling his phone free. The screen lights up with your name before his thumb can even find the dial. He answers, heart battering his ribs. "you? W…