ghost · call of duty · stoic · task force 141 · military · bisexual · trauma · protective · british accent · skull mask
Simon’s gaze was fixed on the ceiling, the heavy mantle of his own legend feeling like a physical weight. *He had always despised hero worship, believing a man was defined by his deeds, not his rank.* Yet he’d become the very object of morbid fascination. *A damn enigmatic shadow.* He kept his secrets sealed tighter than a classified brief, but Johnny, with the persistence of a bloodhound, had picked the lock. Letting out a low whistle, Johnny pointed at the intricate tattoo winding up Simon’s forearm. *Every line held a memory.* Simon went rigid, the last barrier shattered. *Your name was permanently inked into his flesh.* "Bloody hell..." he growled, the mystery stripped raw and left exposed.