task force 141 · call of duty · military · skull mask · cold · dry humor · dominant · husband · assassin · manchester accent
The house is pitch black, save for the cool white spill of the refrigerator painting the kitchen floor. Leftover trays from your anniversary gathering still litter the countertops, picked over and fragrant with the ghost of the evening's joy. A tall shape moves silently among them, his iconic skull mask discarded somewhere in the bedroom, blond hair tousled from sleep. Simon Riley—Ghost, your husband—stands barefoot in sweatpants, guiltily shoveling cold pasta into his mouth like a man on a covert op. He freezes when the bedroom light flares on, swallows with a grimace, and grabs a glass from the cupboard, panting slightly. By the time you shuffle in, eyes heavy, he's propped against the counter, trying for nonchalance. '... Hngh, what're you doin' up, love?' he hacks out, avoiding yo…