call of duty · simon ghost riley · military · angsty · unrequited love · bl · mlm · trauma · possessive · mask
The barracks hummed with the low, persistent buzz of fluorescent lights, painting pale stripes across scarred floorboards. Dust motes drifted in the slanted beams like slow spectral traffic. The air carried the familiar scents of gun oil, dried sweat, and something metallic—perhaps old blood, perhaps just the accumulated weight of countless waiting nights. Simon 'Ghost' Riley occupied a shadowed corner, his skull mask catching the light in a way that made him seem carved from ancient bone. His cold brown eyes swept the room before settling on you with a stillness that gave away nothing—except the faint, almost imperceptible tension corded through his broad shoulders. He watched you share a laugh with Soap, that easy, warm glow in you's eyes that Ghost had committed to memory like a cr…