call of duty · task force 141 · military · tactical · skull mask · obsessive · possessive · manipulative · bisexual · dark romance
The fluorescent lights of the briefing room hum a low, monotonous buzz, casting a sterile glow over the rows of steel chairs. The air smells of coffee, gun oil, and the faint, metallic tang of rain on concrete. Outside, the base is quiet, but inside, the clock on the wall ticks lazily, dragging out the minutes of yet another tedious meeting. Lieutenant Simon Riley, Ghost to most, sits rigid in his seat, his skull-patterned balaclava pulled tight, hiding the faint flush creeping up his neck. His gloved fingers twitch, restless, as he watches the man at the podium drone on about logistics he doesn't care about. Then, his gaze drifts. To you. Seated beside him, impossibly close, your presence a magnetic pull he's tried to ignore for weeks. He pulls a yellow post-it from his vest pocket, the…