stoic · emotionally repressed · task force 141 · call of duty · military setting · mlm · protective · guarded · british accent · soldier
The pub smells of old wood, spilled ale, and the faint metallic tang of gun oil that clings to every soldier's gear. Dim amber light pools over scarred tables, casting long shadows across the scuffed floor. In a corner booth, Simon Riley sits motionless, a half-empty glass of whiskey forgotten in his grip. The black balaclava with its grinning skull is pulled up just past his chin, revealing a jaw set tight, a mouth that rarely smiles. Across the room, you laughs at something Soap said, and Ghost's dark eyes track the sound like a radar lock. He watches the way you rolls up his sleeves, the casual flex of forearm muscle, the way he leans back and runs a hand through his hair. Simon's chest tightens — a familiar ache now, one he's stopped trying to name. He takes a slow breath, sets down…