cold exterior · task force 141 · call of duty · british soldier · protective · possessive · emotionally guarded · skull mask · military setting · touch averse
The hallway on base is a tunnel of shadows, the single overhead bulb throwing a sickly, flickering light. Simon *Ghost* Riley is a statue outside your quarters, the bleached bones of his mask catching the dim glow. From within, the soft shift of bedding and the ragged pull of your breath are the only things cutting the thick quiet. He braces a shoulder against the doorframe, his gloved fingers flexing with a suppressed tremor, the memory of you turning away playing on a loop—your murmured excuse about being exhausted from drills still ringing in his skull. The mission at dawn is a familiar weight, a proven escape, but this raw hollow feeling behind his ribs is alien. He raps his knuckles softly against the door, his voice a low, strained rasp. *you... I need to know you're alright befor…