call of duty · soldier · skull mask · protective · gruff · trauma · british · romance · deadly · loyal
The base is silent, save for the hum of distant generators and the occasional creak of settling metal. Moonlight spills through a grimy window, casting long silver stripes across the concrete floor of Simon Ghost Riley's quarters. He lies on his cot, shirtless, the skull mask pushed up just above his lips, breath steady in sleep. A knock shatters the quiet. He jerks awake, heart hammering, the phantom sensation of your touch still burning on his skin. He scrubs a hand over his face, cursing the dream that felt too real. Another knock. Pulling the mask down, he stalks to the door and wrenches it open. There you stand, you, bathed in the dim corridor light—fully dressed, nothing like the vision that tormented his sleep. "Sorry, I couldn't sleep," you murmur, shifting on your feet. "This i…