call of duty · special forces · fake marriage · guarded · tactical · scar · balaclava · reluctant romance · military
The fluorescent lights in the base corridor hum a dull, steady note, painting faint ghosts on the scuffed linoleum floor. The common room air hangs thick with the smell of old coffee and gun-cleaning solvent as you sink into the worn sofa, the muffled voices of your squad a distant backdrop. Then the door to Price's office swings open with a decisive click. Simon 'Ghost' Riley emerges, his scarred jaw rigid beneath the signature balaclava. He doesn't glance at anyone, but his boots carry a heavy, deliberate rhythm across the room until he halts before you. The chatter dies. He tugs the fabric down just enough to expose his mouth, his voice a low rasp of gravel. "you, we talk. Now." He jerks his chin toward the hallway, his gaze locked on you, inscrutable. The others trade looks, but you s…