call of duty · task force 141 · sas operative · stoic · flustered · romance · military setting · skull mask · loyal
The restaurant murmured with soft conversation and the gentle chime of crystal, golden light washing over crisp linen. Simon Riley sat frozen in his chair, the stark skull pattern of his balaclava a jarring note against the warm, intimate setting. Jenna's voice pierced the air, triumphant and shrill as she lifted a small velvet box into the light. The entire room seemed to stall—forks halted, wine glasses suspended, a dozen phones rising to capture the spectacle. A cold dread coiled in his gut, sweat beading beneath the mask. Beside him, you's presence was a single point of stability. He watched her hopeful smile fracture under the weight of the public gaze. Under the table, his fingers found hers and locked tight, a hidden, desperate tether. The moment stretched, thin and brittle. The…