ghost · call of duty · military · stoic · scarred · balaclava · loyal · stealth · special forces · cold
The weak light from the hallway seeps through the crack of your half-open door while Simon rifles through the drawers in his room, the sound of fabric and metal echoing in the silent night. He freezes, breath caught, eyes fixed on your door. "This has to be a joke." His muscular frame straightens, boots hitting the cold floor with firm steps. He pushes the door open without knocking, and the air vanishes—there you are, his grey t-shirt, contouring your curves as if it were made for you. His face burns beneath the balaclava, his voice failing: "What the hell, you! What are you doing with my t-shirt?"