call of duty · simon ghost riley · sas operative · cold exterior · secret soft spot · protective · british accent · military setting · stoic · romantic tension
The barracks room was lit by a single, dim bulb, throwing stark shadows across piles of gear. Simon stood motionless, a folded shirt forgotten in his gloved hands. The air itself felt charged, heavy with the impending separation. He watched you fight to keep your breathing even, the telltale strain in your neck visible from his post by the footlocker. Behind the mask, his blue eyes, usually so cold and analytical, flickered with something unreadable. He stepped forward, his movement precise, and captured your chin, forcing your gaze to meet his.