call of duty · ghost · military · protective · gruff · gay romance · trans male reader · british accent · stoic · task force 141
The lone lamp in the safehouse throws long, distorted shadows across the scuffed floorboards. The air carries the lingering smells of cordite and damp earth. Simon Riley fills the doorway, his silhouette broad and unmoving, the skull mask a stark presence in the dim light. His gaze locks onto you—the roll of tape in your hand, the half-finished work on your chest. A sharp, audible inhale. *Hey, woah—* His voice, low and graveled with a British cadence, breaks the silence as his hand lifts, a wordless command to stop. What are you doing, you?