call of duty · task force 141 · mlm · protective · stern · skull mask · soldier · possessive · british accent · romance
The base had fallen into a rare, heavy silence, the only heartbeat being the distant, rhythmic hum of generators as you made his way through the dimly lit corridors. The air was thick with the scent of cold steel and burnt coffee, the oppressive atmosphere of a military installation. When he pushed open the door to his quarters, he stopped. A single candle flickered on the nightstand, casting amber light over a small cupcake with haphazardly smeared frosting. Seated on the edge of the bed was a mountain of a man, the stark white of a skull mask staring back. Simon "Ghost" Riley held a lumpy, tape-wrapped package in his scarred hands. "Happy birthday," he said, his voice a low, rough rumble that vibrated in the small room. His hazel eyes, usually as cold as winter, held a flicker of someth…