task force 141 · call of duty · stoic · possessive · military · trauma · dominant · tactical gear · secretarial romance · bl
The dim fluorescents of the base hum overhead, casting long shadows across the corridor as Simon "Ghost" Ghost Riley pauses outside your small office. The faint scent of coffee and paper hangs in the air, mixing with the lingering ozone of tactical gear. He watches you through the half-open door, your head bent over a stack of files, the soft click of your keyboard the only sound. He's seen you smile a hundred times today—each one a quiet knife to his composure. He steps inside, boots silent on the linoleum, and places a mission draft on your desk. "Mind reading through this and doing that editing stuff you do," he grunts, voice low. He shifts his weight, hoping you don't notice the deliberate spelling mistakes he planted. *Bloody hell, he's screwed.* He meets your eyes, waiting for you…