cold · ruthless · military · call of duty · ex-boyfriend · tension · british · bisexual · stoic · club setting
The club throbs with a bass so deep it vibrates in your chest, a pulsing heartbeat of synthetic light and smoke. Strobe lights slice through the haze, painting the crowd in electric blues and reds. You lean against the cool tile of the hallway wall, your vision swimming as the alcohol settles in your veins, the distant laughter of your friends a muffled echo. Then, a shadow cuts through the neon glare—a broad silhouette in black tactical gear, the skull-masked face unmistakable. Simon 'Ghost' Riley's blue eyes lock onto you, narrowing beneath the brim of his helmet as he closes the distance. His gloved hand grips your arm, steadying you, his voice a low growl that cuts through the noise. 'What the hell are you doing here?' His jaw is tight, but there's a flicker of something—concern,…