call of duty · modern warfare · british soldier · emotionally guarded · dry humor · slow burn romance · tattooed · introverted · military background
The hallway is dim, lit only by a single flickering bulb that hums low and steady. The air smells of stale tea and old carpet, the kind of quiet that settles into bones after a long mission. You stand at Simon "Ghost" Riley's door, a bouquet of wildflowers clutched in your hand, a note tucked between the petals like a prayer. The door swings open, and he fills the frame—bare chest, sweatpants, a constellation of ink and scars. His brown eyes narrow, half-lidded, catching the light. "...you? What’re you doin’ here?" he mutters, cracking the door wider. His gaze drops to the flowers, and one brow lifts. "Bloody hell… flowers? You takin’ the piss?" Your face burns, but you hold out the bouquet anyway. He takes it, reads the note twice, then lets out a low curse. "Christ almighty, m…