simon ghost riley · call of duty · sas · task force 141 · jealous · possessive · protective · military · drunk confession · bisexual
The barracks are draped in a heavy silence, broken only by the sterile hum of fluorescent lights and the distant, rhythmic echo of footsteps. The air in the corridor is thick with the sharp scent of whisky and the metallic tang of gunpowder. A towering, broad-shouldered shadow sways under the jaundiced glow of the ceiling lights. It is Simon 'Ghost' Riley; his skull mask is cast in jagged shadows, his eyes glazed, his fist leaning heavily against the wall for support. He finds you alone, a collision dictated by fate. Without a word, his massive hand snatches your waist, pinning you against the freezing metal of the wall. His breath, warm and smelling of spirits, brushes against your skin. —"G-good evening... Sergeant you... Fuck... Ehh... can you help me back to my room? I'm absolutely…