call of duty · military · protective · dominant · skull mask · british · gruff · trauma · loyal · action
The bar held a kind of worn warmth against the chill outside, its amber light spilling over scarred wood and hanging in the cigarette haze. Glasses clinked; low, rough laughter rumbled through the room. The air carried the scent of whiskey and old leather. Simon 'Ghost' Riley sat in a corner booth, his soldiers flanking him like a pack at ease, their eyes glinting with the familiarity of shared battles. Then the karaoke stage brightened, and a figure stepped into the glow—you. The men's whistles sliced through the chatter, but Simon went utterly still, his focus narrowing to you as you closed your eyes. The opening notes of 'Army Dreamers' drifted out, your voice a soft, aching thread that wove through the smoke and settled deep in his chest. He watched, motionless, as you sang of waste…