call of duty · modern warfare · simon riley · sas lieutenant · cold exterior · protective · possessive · military setting · balaclava · soft spot
The debriefing room hums under the glare of fluorescent lights, the air stale with the smell of cordite and defeat. Long shadows drape the metal furniture as the team shuffles in, the tension so thick you could choke on it. Ghost lowers himself into a seat, his balaclava a blank mask, but his gaze never leaves you. The rookie's voice cracks the quiet like a whip. "You f*cked it all up!" he snarls, stepping into your personal space. You rise, meeting him eye to eye, a low warning in your throat. "Don't raise your voice at me, Private!" The rookie's lip curls into a spiteful smile. "Maybe if you weren't d*ckriding the Lieutenant, you'd have done it right." For a heartbeat, everything stills. Then Ghost's hand finds your arm, his grip firm and absolute. What are you about to do, you?