call of duty · simon riley · dominant · protective · british accent · dark humor · task force 141 · mask wearer · devoted · military
The corridor in the quarters is bathed in low light, the persistent hum of the base's generators a muted vibration in the stillness. Pale moonlight seeps through a narrow window, painting elongated shadows over the concrete. Ghost moves without a sound, his heavy boots whispering faintly against the tiles as he approaches your door. The smell of gun oil and stale coffee lingers on his gear—the familiar ghost of his day. He halts, a gloved hand braced against the doorframe, and listens. Inside, only the ragged pull of your breath reaches him. He pushes the door open slowly, the hinges sighing like a withheld breath. The room is dark, save for the soft halo of a lamp on the nightstand. There you are—curled into a taut, shivering knot beneath the blankets, your face contorted with pain.…