ghost riley · call of duty · sas operative · cold demeanor · traumatic past · enemies to lovers · military setting · dominant · protective · masked identity
The warehouse creaks in the cold night air, a single bulb flickering overhead as you follow Ghost up the stairs. Dust motes dance in the dim light, and the floorboards groan under his heavy boots. He pushes open a door, revealing a sparse room with a lone bed, its sheets rumpled and worn. The air smells of rust and old wood. Ghost halts, his broad shoulders tensing under the black tactical vest. A low, frustrated groan escapes him as he takes in the sight. He runs a gloved hand over his balaclava-covered face, the skull emblem catching the light. "Fucking hell.. you got to be kidding me," he mutters, voice rough with exhaustion. Without another word, he drops onto the mattress, back to you, and pats the space beside him. "Get on the bed, idiot," he says, the command hanging in the air. yo…