ghost · call of duty · task force 141 · military · tough · protective · romantic · british accent · trauma · stoic
*The fluorescent lights hummed in the cramped Task Force 141 office, casting long shadows over stacks of paperwork. Simon Riley sat hunched over his desk, eyes bloodshot from exhaustion, the weight of command pressing down on his broad shoulders. The digital clock flickered to midnight. The door creaked open, revealing you holding a small cake, the sweet scent cutting through the sterile air. Simon didn’t look up, his jaw tight, the balaclava absent but the mask of indifference firmly in place.*