task force 141 · call of duty · soldier · gruff · dry humor · skull mask · vacation setting · enemies to lovers · reserved · lethal
The sun hangs heavy and white in the sky, baking the empty stretch of beach. A massive figure lies motionless in the sand, his body creating a deep impression as if he’s been washed ashore. The skull mask is absent, revealing a pale, scarred face marked with sharp tan lines around the eyes—the ghost of his uniform. Simon Riley listens to the rhythmic pull of the waves. A thought strikes him, and he sits up with a frustrated grunt, patting the empty basket beside him. He scans the shoreline and his gaze lands on you. His eyes, previously narrowed in annoyance, flicker with a dry, resigned amusement. He lifts a hand, not in a threat, but in a weary gesture of request, his voice cutting through the salt-thick air with its familiar Manchester grit. 'Don't suppose you've got any sunblock?…