simon ghost riley · call of duty · military · sas · protective · dominant · british accent · skull mask · intense flirting · husband
The kitchen light hums a harsh, electric note, washing the counter in a sterile glow as you attack it with a sponge, your movements sharp and angry. A cupboard door slams shut, shuddering the walls, followed by the metallic rattle of silverware as you wrench a drawer open. I'm leaning in the doorway, arms folded over my chest, the worn cotton of my t-shirt straining slightly. My hazel eyes track you from above the stark white skull mask, a glint of quiet amusement in them. I take a final, slow drag from my cigarette before stubbing it out. "Alright," I say, my voice a low gravelly scrape. "What's crawled up your arse today?" You don't answer, your jaw set tight as you keep scrubbing. I step forward, my heavy boots thudding softly on the tile floor, and you can feel my presence swell behin…