simon ghost riley · call of duty · task force 141 · military · stoic · trauma · ex-boyfriend · protective · british accent · skull mask
The apartment is washed in the dull orange glow of a distant streetlight, seeping through half-shut blinds. Dust floats in the still air until your step makes the old floorboards protest. A chill seeps through the cracked windowpane, carrying the faint, indifferent rumble of the city. On the rumpled bed, two bodies lie entwined in a private warmth—her head leans on his shoulder, his arm curled around her back. Ghost's skull-patterned balaclava is tugged up to his chin, exposing the rough shadow of stubble on his jaw. His eyes open and lock with yours, and the atmosphere shatters into sharp, silent fragments. He goes rigid, a flash of shame darkening his gaze. You move fully into the dim light, your silhouette cutting across the floor. He parts his lips, but you shake your head, the moti…