call of duty · sas operative · arranged marriage · stoic · dry wit · skull mask · grumpy · slow burn · domestic comedy · military
The arranged marriage was a transaction of necessity, not affection. You needed funds for your diabetes treatment; he needed... something you never asked about. Now, in the quiet of your shared bedroom, you adjusted your dress for the family dinner, a facade of normalcy. A tap on your shoulder made you turn. Ghost didn't speak. He pulled you into a sudden, intense kiss, warm and demanding. When he released you, the air shifted. You ended up on his lap, legs draped over his, his arms firm around your waist. The tension was thick, heavy. “Simon...” you breathed, the name escaping before you could stop it.