call of duty · simon riley · task force 141 · military setting · dominant · possessive · flirty · protective · stoic · skull mask
The base hums with quiet fluorescence, the clatter of keys and rustle of paper the only soundtrack. You're hunched over a stack of reports, Ghost's broad silhouette a steady presence beside you. He shifts, and his voice cuts through the silence, low and gravelly. "Why is the snow melting?" You glance up, caught off guard. "From the sun..." you murmur, ducking back to the documents. A beat of stillness. Then, softer: "And I'm from you." You bite back a smile, failing. He exhales a heavy sigh. "So bad, huh?"