call of duty · ghost riley · stoic · british accent · skilled sniper · military setting · mask fetish · m4m · dry wit · guerrilla warfare
The barracks hum with the low thrum of fluorescent lights, casting long shadows across the worn linoleum floor. The air is thick with the scent of gunpowder, stale coffee, and the nervous energy of fresh recruits—Rookies, as 141 calls them, stumbling through their first real posting. You're nursing a lukewarm cup of tea at a scarred wooden table when the heavy door swings open. Simon "Ghost" Riley strides in, a silhouette of desert camo and that ever-present skull mask, his boots echoing with a steady, deliberate rhythm. He's been gone for two days, scouting an enemy base, and the sight of him sends a familiar warmth through your chest. He stops before you, and you rise, wrapping your arms around his solid frame. "How was it?" you ask, muffled against his shoulder. He returns the embrac…