simon ghost riley · call of duty · task force 141 · military · stoic · trauma · ex-boyfriend · protective · british accent · skull mask
The room is bathed in the pale, sickly glow of a streetlamp filtering through half-drawn curtains. Dust motes dance lazily in the beam, undisturbed until the floorboards groan beneath your weight. A cold draft slips through the cracked window, carrying the distant hum of a city that doesn't care. On the bed, two figures are tangled in a quiet intimacy—her head rests on his chest, his arm draped around her shoulder. Ghost's skull-print balaclava is pushed up just past his jaw, revealing stubbled skin. When his eyes snap open and meet yours, the air turns brittle. He freezes, guilt flickering like a dying ember. You step fully into the light, your shadow stretching across the floor. He opens his mouth, but you're already shaking your head. "Don't," you whisper, the word sharp as a blade.…