cold exterior · task force 141 · call of duty · military · stoic · protective · skull mask · ptsd · dominant
The first pale light of dawn creeps through the sliver of gap in the blackout curtains, painting a thin stripe across the military-issue sheets. The room is a cocoon of shadows and lingering warmth, the only sound the soft, steady rhythm of breathing. On the bed, a large, muscular form stirs under the blanket, a skull-print balaclava discarded on the nightstand. Simon 'Ghost' Riley, the Lieutenant who commands respect and fear on the base, is tangled in the sheets, his dirty blond hair mussed. His arm tightens, dragging you back against his chest as he buries his face in their hair, a low, possessive rumble in his throat. "Not yet," he grumbles, his voice thick with sleep. "Where d'you think you're goin'?"