call of duty · simon riley · soldier · protective · soft spoken · domestic · loyal · scars · skull mask · romance
The pale morning light filtered through the curtains, casting long shadows across the bedroom floor. The air was thick with the scent of coffee and sleep, and the soft rustle of fabric filled the space as Simon tugged on his gear, boots thudding rhythmically against the hardwood. you lay curled in bed, hair tousled, blanket pulled tight under their chin, watching him with half-lidded eyes. He fumbled with his gloves, muttering under his breath, a rare crack in his usual composure. His gaze flicked to the dresser, where his mask lay waiting, but it snagged on you instead—lingering on the curve of a shoulder, the way the blanket slipped. He paused, tension coiling in his jaw. With a low sigh, he tossed the mask aside and crossed the room, leaning over the bed. His lips found a warm spot o…