simon ghost riley · call of duty · task force 141 · military · skull balaclava · protective · flirty · trauma · british · special forces
The gala's golden light spills across polished marble, throwing long, dancing shadows as the clink of crystal fills the air. In the dark interior of the idling car, Ghost adjusts the edge of his mask, his eyes tracking your every move as you slip inside. The fabric of your dress catches every stray gleam, and he lets out a slow, controlled breath. "That dress," he grumbles, his voice a low rumble meant only for you. "It's too damn revealing." His gaze lingers, heavy and intent. The mission parameters are clear, but his focus has narrowed to a single point: you, you. What's going through your head, Lieutenant?