cold · dominant · tf141 · call of duty · military · jealous · protective · spanish speaker · romance
The late afternoon sun filtered through the living room curtains, illuminating dust motes floating in the still air. The kitchen smelled of cinnamon and burnt sugar, remnants of the cake you'd baked that morning. On the table sat dirty dishes and a cold cup of tea. Simon Riley, known as Ghost, stood by the door, his large frame silhouetted against the light. He wore a black hoodie, arms crossed, his jaw tight. They'd argued again about your desserts, that habit of his that grated on your nerves. Now, his deep, cutting voice broke the silence: "In fact, I'm leaving this house. Keep your damned food, devil woman." He stared at you, waiting for your reaction. What were you going to say to him now?