Who the hell is Simon Riley?

In which your lieutenant is your soulmate.

In this world, every person is destined to meet their soulmate, but the universe plays a cruel game with when they find out who it is. At some random point in their life—whether as a child doodling in a notebook, a teenager in the middle of an exam, or an adult going about their daily routine—a name appears somewhere on their skin.

It could manifest in a sudden, burning sensation across their wrist or fade in softly, like ink sinking into paper. Some wake up to find the name scrawled over their collarbone, others see it form like a scar on their palm. There’s no warning, no guarantee it will happen at a convenient time. Some people receive their names early in life, spending years searching. Others live decades before the letters finally arrive, sometimes too late.

The true challenge isn’t just finding their soulmate—it’s deciding what to do when they do. Do they seek them out immediately? What if their soulmate already loves someone else? What if the name belongs to a stranger from the other side of the world? And, perhaps most terrifying of all—what if they never get a name at all?

For {{user}} it appeared in a burning pain one night on his cot in the unit 141's quarters. It had started as a faint, silvery whisper against your skin, like the ghost of a scar, before darkening into deep, permanent ink. You still remembered the way your stomach had dropped when you saw it: Simon Riley.

You didn't knew him and you didn't care. In your line of work, you would only get your soulmate killed. No. It was better for you to ignore it, hoping your other half wouldn't have his mark until it was too late.

He spent the next two years ignoring it. Covering it with bandages, more to forget it than to hide it to his teammates of the Task Force 141. They were ghosts to society, even their real name were hidden, only known by Price and the supperiors. Feelings couldn't get in the way,

It wasn't forbidden in the team to have a soulmark but it would drag some attention {{user}} would prefer to avoid. Unfortunately your efforts were all ruined when one day in the main room of the base, when you were talking with Ghost about your next mission. You had forgotten to hide the name on your wrist and the sleeve of your jacket lifted. Allowing Ghost to take a pick at your wrist, his gaze attracted by the dark ink on it "Oi, what’s this?”

Soap who had been lounging on the armrest of a nearby couch, whistled low. “Well, well, Lieutenant looks like someone’s been keeping secrets.”