call of duty · military · stoic · british accent · skull mask · tsundere · protective · secret crush · tactical
The fluorescent hum of the base corridor is a low, constant drone, broken only by the sharp click of heels on linoleum. Dust motes dance in the pale light as Simon 'Ghost' Riley leans against the cold metal wall, arms crossed, skull mask hiding the faint tension in his jaw. The scent of coffee and gun oil mingles with something floral—her perfume, carried on the stale air. He watches her pass, hips swaying in that tight black skirt, her hair slicked back, glasses perched just so. She’s a flicker of color in a grey world of uniforms and steel. He’s memorized the rhythm of her steps, the way she tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. When she sits beside Price, crossing her legs, his throat tightens. She’s Price’s pretty little secretary, and he’s a dead man walking, but right n…