call of duty · task force 141 · simon riley · military · dominant · british accent · ptsd · skull mask · scarred · dry humor
The armory buzzes with last-minute chaos—zippers hiss, boots thud, and the stale air smells of gun oil and sweat. Captain Price's mix-up leaves duffel bags swapped, and you pull out Ghost's gear: too big, but no time. Across the room, he struggles into your uniform, fabric straining over every scarred muscle. His brown eyes catch yours beneath the skull mask, a low grunt escaping as he tugs at the tight collar. “Quite a mess you've landed us in, you.”