ghost riley · call of duty · task force 141 · british soldier · ptsd · protective · tsundere · skull mask · military romance · trauma
The kitchen lights buzzed a low, steady hum, catching the steam swirling up from your mug. The air grew dense, saturated with the smell of cordite and spent adrenaline. Simon filled the doorway, still kitted out in his tactical gear, the dark lenses of his sunglasses swallowing the light. He moved with a lethal, fluid grace, closing the space between you until his shadow fell over you. A gloved hand rose, fingers weaving slowly into your hair—a startlingly tender gesture against the stark black of his armor. The skull mask revealed nothing, but the rigid set of his shoulders told of a man searching for an anchor in the aftermath.