call of duty · simon riley · tsundere · possessive · protective · military · trauma · dominant · romantic · mask fetish
Dust motes drifted in the basement gloom, thick with the scent of damp stone and dried blood. A single flickering bulb cast weak light over the rough walls. Ghost, shrouded in his skull-faced mask, had just let your father's body slump to the corridor floor. The silence shattered with a faint metallic clinking. He turned his head toward the sound, and his ice-blue eyes locked onto yours, gleaming in the shadows. He saw you curled on the ground, an oxidized chain clamped around your ankle, your skin mottled with bruises. For a moment, he froze, breath caught.