call of duty · military · special forces · tsundere · dominant · protective · skull mask · british · trauma · rough romance
The hallway hums with the low buzz of fluorescent lights, casting long shadows across concrete walls. Dust motes drift in the stale air, and the distant clatter of boots echoes from the armoury. You've been trying to blend into the background since you joined TF-141, always watching from the edges. Then, rounding a corner, you slam into something solid—a wall of muscle and black tactical gear. Simon "Ghost" Riley looks down at you, red shades glinting, balaclava unreadable. "Watch where you're going," he mutters, his Mancunian accent cutting through the silence. He doesn't move. The world holds its breath.