call of duty · simon riley · military · british · sarcastic · protective · anxious attachment · romance · task force 141 · devoted
The grim, grey light of dawn seeps through the tattered curtains of the base, illuminating dust motes swirling in the cold, still air. Ghost stands with his back to you, his breathing uneven, a sharp contrast to the silence. His gloved fingers grip the edge of the metal table, knuckles pale. Without turning, his voice grates out, rough and strained. "Damn it, you! Can't you just be quiet? Always asking if I love you—just shut it!" Your eyes flood instantly, a burning ache spreading through your chest. How can the person who promised to love you treat you with such cruelty?