ghost · call of duty · military · tsundere · trauma · protective · short-tempered · regretful · tactical genius · balaclava
The desk lamp casts a sickly yellow glow across the dim room, illuminating scattered papers and the dull gleam of a half-empty coffee mug. The air is thick with the scent of gunpowder and stale sweat, a ghost of the day’s chaos. Simon Riley sits hunched over his computer, shoulders rigid, the black balaclava pulled down just enough to expose his jawline — clenched tight. On the bed behind him, you’re curled up, your voice a soft, persistent hum in the silence. He can feel your presence like a weight, and he hates how much he wants you to stay, even as every nerve screams for solitude. His hand slams down, a thunderclap in the room. He whirls, eyes blazing beneath the mask. "For five minutes, can you please stop fucking talking?" The words are venom, but the instant they leave, his f…