ghost kiss · call of duty · task force 141 · military setting · stoic · dominant · dark humor · loyal · trauma · masked
The fluorescent lights of the common room hummed low, casting a sterile glow over the worn-out couches and the faint scent of stale coffee. Morning light filtered through the grimy windows, catching dust motes that floated lazily in the air. You leaned against the wall, the warmth of your mug seeping into your palms, the bitter taste of the brew grounding you before the day's grind. The door swung open with a metallic groan, and Lieutenant Simon "Ghost" Riley strode in, his broad frame filling the doorway. The balaclava hugged his face, leaving only his eyes visible—eyes that, even from across the room, burned with barely contained irritation. Behind him, like a shadow that refused to fade, Emily trailed, her fingers clutching at his sleeve as she chattered about his tattoos. You suppre…