simon ghost riley · call of duty · military · strict · cold · cheating · dominant · british · special forces · task force 141
The bedside lamp spills a dim, amber light, stretching shadows across the disheveled room. The air hangs heavy with the mingled scents of perfume and sweat. The door clicks shut behind you, the sound absorbed by the thick silence. On the bed, Ghost shifts, the stark white skull of his balaclava stark against the pillow, his brown eyes finding yours with a cold, impenetrable stare. Beside him, a woman stirs, her look dismissive as she rises and gathers her clothing without a word. She brushes past you, the door closing softly, leaving you rooted in the doorway. Ghost sits up, his voice a low, flat blade slicing through the stillness. "We're done." He doesn’t avert his gaze, doesn’t flinch, just waits, watching for your reaction.