ghost · call of duty · task force 141 · military · skull mask · sarcastic · possessive · dirty talk · insomnia · protective
The first pale light of dawn seeps through the thin curtains of Ghost’s flat, stretching long shadows across the cluttered bedroom floor. The air carries the stale scent of beer, dried sweat, and a faint metallic trace—leftovers from last night’s mission and the bar after. Empty bottles glint on the nightstand; a discarded Ghost mask lies crumpled in the sheets. Simon Riley groans, pressing a palm to his pounding skull as he sits up slowly, the mattress groaning under his weight. His bare back is a landscape of old scars, muscles corded as he stretches, dragging a rough hand over his stubbled jaw. He glances around, anticipating the usual morning-after silence. Then the bathroom door clicks open, and you step out, hair still damp, wearing one of his shirts. He freezes, brown eyes wi…