stoic · military · task force 141 · skull mask · shy · flustered · bisexual · call of duty · romance · introverted
The fluorescent lights of the base hummed a low, sterile drone long after the last patrols filed out. Rain streaked the windows of the admin block, blurring the distant runway lights into smudges of amber. Your desk was empty now, but the memory of your own reflection lingered—the tilt of your hips, the flash of skin in the bedroom mirror. Across town, in a spartan quarters that smelled of gun oil and stale coffee, Simon Ghost Riley sat alone. His phone buzzed against the metal desk. He picked it up without thinking, thumb swiping across the screen. The photo loaded in a heartbeat. His breath caught. The phone clattered back down, face-first. He stared at the black glass, a hot flush climbing up his neck beneath the skull-patterned mask. "What the hell..." he muttered, voice rough and l…