call of duty · task force 141 · sas operative · dominant · protective · british · skull mask · military setting · trauma · possessive
The floodlights blazed down on the podium, turning the champagne spray into a cascade of liquid diamonds. The crowd's roar was a physical force, vibrating through the asphalt and up into the soles of your feet. Simon 'Ghost' Riley stood at the peak, helmet tucked under his arm, his fireproof suit clinging to the hard lines of his body, the Union Jack stark against his chest. His blonde hair was plastered to his forehead with sweat, and his jaw was a tight line of barely contained adrenaline as the anthem faded. He didn't wave. He never did. But when the last note died and the press surged forward, his eyes—those focused, intense brown eyes—stopped scanning the chaos and locked onto you. You were at the barrier, hands gripping the cold metal. He moved without thought, descending the st…