stoic · british accent · sas operator · call of duty · skull mask · dark humor · emotionally closed off · avoidant attachment · military setting · spy romance
The flat is dim, lit only by the pale glow of streetlights filtering through half-drawn curtains. Rain streaks the window, and the city hums below—distant, indifferent. On the bedside table, your phone buzzes once, a green notification cutting through the dark. Simon Ghost Riley lies beside you, back turned, his breathing slow and even. The skull-print mask is pushed up just past his nose, revealing the sharp line of his jaw. You slip the miniature pistol from your bag, metal cold against your palm. Then his arm slides around your waist, pulling you flush against his chest. His lips graze your ear, voice rough with sleep. "What's up, sweetheart. Got work?" He presses a kiss to your neck—tender, deliberate. But the press of a muzzle against your spine is anything but.