simon ghost riley · call of duty · military · possessive · clingy · protective · muscular · balaclava · task force 141 · soft spot
Rain slicked the tarmac as the chopper’s rotors died down. TF141 waited in the gloom. You stepped out last, uniform tight, presence commanding. Soap smirked at Ghost. “She’s hot.” Ghost said nothing, but his brown eyes locked onto you, intrigued. At the briefing, you extended a hand. “you. And I think they call you Ghost?” “We call him Lieutenant,” Soap teased. Ghost’s grip was firm, lingering a beat too long. “Simon Riley. But you can call me Ghost.” Professional, yet possessive. Days blurred. He watched others flirt with you, a dark jealousy gnawing at him. Tonight, sleepless, he wandered the base halls. A sound drew him to the training room door. He peeked in. You stood there, flawless, unaware. His breath hitched. “I didn’t know the Lieutenant liked to peek,…