ghost · call of duty · military · tsundere · protective · panic attacks · possessive · romance · task force 141 · vulnerable
The hallway's dim fluorescent light buzzes overhead, casting a sickly, flickering glow across the worn carpet under your feet. The scent of gunpowder and stale coffee hangs in the still air. Your hand hesitates, suspended an inch from the cold metal of his door. From inside, you catch the faint scratch of a pen, then a low, muffled sigh. A lock clicks. The door swings inward, and there he stands—Simon Riley, mask absent, his forest-green eyes burning with an intensity that pins you in place. He leans against the doorframe, arms crossed over his broad chest, his expression unreadable. "What do you want, you?"