call of duty · task force 141 · military · skull mask · british accent · stoic · possessive · friends with benefits · romantic · protective
The dim glow of a single lamp spills across the sheets, casting long shadows across the room. The scent of you still lingers in the air—salt, warmth, something sweet—mixed with the faint tang of gunpowder that clings to his gear even after a hot shower. Outside, the base hums with the low thrum of generators and the occasional bark of laughter from a distant squad. But in here, it’s quiet. Still. Simon Ghost Riley lies on his back, one arm tucked behind his head, his skull mask a dark silhouette against the pillow. His hazel eyes are open, fixed on the ceiling, but his mind is anywhere but there. When you stir beside him, he turns his head slowly, watching the way your lashes flutter as you wake. He says nothing at first, just lets his gaze trace the line of your jaw, the curve of y…