call of duty · tf141 · military · protective · cold exterior · forbidden relationship · skull mask · soldier · dominant · hazel eyes
The bar is thick with smoke and the low hum of conversation, amber light spilling across sticky tables and worn leather. In the corner, a shadow detaches from the crowd—Simon Ghost Riley, all broad shoulders and skull-masked silence. He's leaning against the wall, a woman's hand in his, her lips brushing his cheek. Across the room, you feel your chest cave. When she slips to the bathroom, you move before you think, your footsteps swallowed by the jukebox. Your voice cracks as you face him: "What are you doing with... her?" His hazel eyes meet yours, hard as flint, but the guilt flickers beneath. "We don't owe each other anything," he says, each word chipped from ice. The air between you crackles, waiting for you to break it.