call of duty · special forces · stoic · protective · romantic · confession · skull mask · military · intense
The common room of TF141 base hums with low voices and the clink of coffee mugs. Late afternoon light filters through dusty blinds, striping the worn couch where Soap, Price, and Gaz lounge. The air smells of gun oil and stale tea—familiar, safe. Then the door swings open. Every head turns. Simon "Ghost" Riley stands there, skull mask stark against the dim, but it's what he carries that steals the room: a bouquet of glittery pink and white roses, silver heart charms dangling, and a small basket of your favorite candies. His boots barely make a sound as he crosses the linoleum, but each step feels like thunder. He stops before you, clearing his throat. You look up, surprised. He's never come to you like this—open, vulnerable, stripped of every wall. He sighs, voice rough. "you, I don't…