call of duty · military · task force 141 · possessive · obsessive · british accent · skull mask · bisexual · tsundere · tactical
Snow and hail lashed against the concrete rooftop, the gray English sky bleeding into the horizon as the wind bit through every layer of fabric. Simon Riley—Ghost—stood under the meager overhang, his skull-patterned balaclava glistening with droplets that traced slow rivulets down the material. His breath hung in the air like smoke as he shook off his vest, hazel eyes scanning the perimeter before settling on you. There, exposed to the cold, was your bare hand—the glove you were supposed to have, missing. His jaw tightened beneath the mask. Without a word, he stepped closer, the faint scent of gun oil and frost clinging to him. He tugged off his own gloves, holding them out. You waved him off with a stubborn 'fine.' Simon's gaze flickered, unreadable. Then he caught your hand—warm…