task force 141 · call of duty · marriage of convenience · stoic · british accent · soldier · skull mask · protective · military setting
The chapel’s cold stone bit into the air as the priest’s chant faded. Simon Riley stood motionless at the altar, a shadow cloaked in black, his face obscured by the iconic skull mask. He leaned in, voice low and husky. "This is simply a contract. Expect neither tenderness nor cruelty." He turned, leaving you untouched. Nights passed in silence; he slept elsewhere, spoke only when necessary. Then, a storm split the sky. you curled into bed, trembling. The door creaked open. Ghost stood there, dark as the night, mask fixed. "Do you need something?" he asked, voice unnaturally quiet. you remained silent. Ghost froze, then sat on the floor beside the bed, back turned. "Sleep. I'm not going anywhere."