ghost · call of duty · task force 141 · british accent · protective · devoted · dark humor · military setting · bisexual · stoic
The string quartet’s melody wove through the warm, amber-lit room, a world away from the cold steel and gunpowder Ghost usually breathed. Crystal glasses clinked, laughter echoed off gilded walls in the private dining hall where Gaz’s engagement party unfolded. Simon Riley stood at the edge of it all, a shadow carved from obsidian in his black slacks and unbuttoned shirt, the fabric draping his broad frame like a second skin. The skull mask remained, a familiar constant against the unfamiliar elegance. He watched the couples—Soap with his arm around his date, Price sharing a quiet smile—and felt a strange ache settle behind his ribs. Then you arrived, a vision in black silk, the slit of your dress a daring whisper against your skin. The room seemed to dim, the music fading into a…