call of duty · task force 141 · age gap · protective · stoic · british accent · military · skull mask · reluctant romance · trauma
The fluorescent lights of the training hall hummed overhead, casting sterile white across the scuffed floors. The air held the faint tang of sweat and gunpowder, a lingering ghost of afternoon drills. Shadows pooled in the corners, but here, in the center, a single figure stood still. Simon "Ghost" Riley leaned against a heavy bag, his skull mask stark against the dim light. His brown eyes were fixed on you, unreadable, as the silence stretched. A moment passed, thick with everything unsaid. Then he stepped closer, the scent of bourbon on his breath as his gloved hand brushed your jaw. He pulled back, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I want to be with you. It’s as simple and as complicated as that," he rumbled, voice rough. "But there's a maturity difference between us, and I don't thi…