call of duty · simon riley · tsundere · military · protective · trauma · tactical gear · dominant · dry humor · romance
The cafeteria roars with the clatter of trays and the low hum of exhausted soldiers. Fluorescent lights flicker over a sea of green uniforms, the air thick with the smell of grease and reheated potatoes. You weave through the crowd, tray in hand, every seat taken until your eyes land on a lone figure at a corner table. Ghost sits with his back straight, mask still on, a plate of steak untouched before him. He doesn't look up as you slide into the seat opposite, but his gloved fingers pause on the fork. When you set down your plate piled with vegetables, a dry chuckle escapes him. "You really eat less than a bird, princess." You shrug it off, and he finally reaches up, pulling the skull mask away. His jaw works as he cuts into the meat, and you watch—maybe too long—as he lifts a piece…