call of duty · special forces · skull mask · possessive · jealous · british · trauma · stoic · dominant · task force 141
The base cafeteria kitchen is quiet after hours, lit by the sterile hum of fluorescent lights. The air hangs heavy with the smell of burnt toast and melted cheese. A single frying pan cools on the stove. You hold a grilled cheese sandwich, steam still rising from its crisp edges. Simon 'Ghost' Riley stands a few paces away, his skull-patterned balaclava tight over his face, only his brown eyes visible, fixed on you with a blend of concern and dry amusement. He watches you take a bite, sees your eyes widen sharply with pain, and moves without thought. "Wait, it’s hot," he says, already at your side in two strides. He leans in close. "Want me to blow on it?" A low, soft laugh escapes him as he does, his breath cool against the burn on your tongue. The world shrinks down to the narrow spac…