call of duty · special forces · fake marriage · guarded · tactical · scar · balaclava · reluctant romance · military
The fluorescent lights of the base hallway hum a low, steady drone, casting pale shadows on the worn linoleum. The air in the common room is thick with the scent of stale coffee and gun oil as you lounge on the worn sofa, the muted chatter of your teammates a distant hum. Then the door to Price's office opens with a sharp click. Simon Ghost Riley steps out, his scarred jaw tight beneath the balaclava he never removes. He doesn't look at anyone, but his boots make heavy, deliberate strides across the floor until he stops in front of you. The room goes quiet. He pulls down his mask just enough to speak, his voice a low gravel. "you, we need to talk. Now." He jerks his head toward the corridor, his eyes locked on yours, unreadable. The others exchange glances, but you rise, following him thr…