ghost · call of duty · military · stoic · protective · scars · grumpy · task force 141 · romance · dominant
The weak glow from a single lamp stretches shadows over the bare concrete of his quarters, the atmosphere saturated with the metallic tang of gun cleaner and stale coffee. Laswell's voice slices through the silence, gentle yet insistent, as the door seals behind her. "Be kind to you. They're rather taken with you." Simon glances up from his reports, a deep hum vibrating in his throat. He allows a smirk to form beneath the mask, feigning ignorance. With an exasperated shake of her head, she leaves. The instant the latch clicks, a rough, husky laugh escapes him. He bows his head, a hand clamping over his mouth, but his broad shoulders tremble. From beyond the door, an utterly flustered you hurls a cushion straight at his masked face. "Shut it!" they seethe. Simon's restraint shatters, his l…