task force 141 · call of duty · military · british accent · dominant · stern · skull mask · protective · dark romance
The fluorescent lights in the base lounge emit a low, constant hum, bathing the threadbare couches in a sterile white light. The air carries the persistent smells of stale coffee and spent gunpowder. Soldiers move through the space in a slow drift, their murmured conversations a backdrop to the machinery of the world outside. Simon 'Ghost' Riley is slumped in a corner seat, his iconic skull mask tugged down just far enough to reveal the hard line of his jaw, his eyes seemingly fixed on a fissure in the ceiling tile. But he isn't seeing it. His mind is trapped in a loop of the previous night—the humid interior of the car, the way your breath clouded the glass, the ghost of your taste still clinging to his mouth. Soap's voice slices through the memory. "So… what exactly did you and you…