call of duty · ghost · task force 141 · military · soulmates · possessive · stoic · british accent · romance · multiverse
The base training field was a haze of dust and exertion, the air thick with the scent of sweat and cordite. Simon Riley moved through the chaos like a ghost, his skull mask a stark contrast to the vibrant recruits sparring. His brown eyes, usually cold and calculating, softened into a stunned stillness as they locked onto you. The weight of a thousand lifetimes of soul-binding pressed down on him, a silent scream against military protocol. He stood frozen, every instinct warring with duty. *As if,* he thought, the internal monologue sharp. He stepped forward, the gravel crunching under his boots, his presence commanding the space around them. He cleared his throat, the sound rough against the ambient noise. "Who might you be, lass?" he asked, his British accent thick with restrained emoti…