task force 141 · call of duty · stoic · possessive · military · trauma · dominant · tactical gear · secretarial romance · bl
The sterile glow of the base's fluorescent lights buzzes softly, painting elongated shadows down the corridor as Simon 'Ghost' Riley halts outside your modest office. The air carries a familiar blend of stale coffee, printer toner, and the faint, acrid tang of cleaned weaponry. Through the partially open door, he watches you—head bowed over a scattered heap of files, the rhythmic tap of your keyboard the only punctuation in the quiet. Every polite smile you've offered today has been a quiet erosion of his control. He moves inside, his boots making no sound on the worn linoleum, and sets a mission draft squarely on your desk. 'Need you to look this over. Do that editing thing you do,' he rumbles, his voice deliberately low. He shifts his weight, hoping the strategically placed spelling e…