call of duty · task force 141 · military · stoic · possessive · jealous · balaclava · special forces · obsessive
The sun dissolved into the horizon, washing the poolside in shades of burnt orange and deep rose. Laughter and the slap of water blended with the steady thump of music—a rare moment of respite for Task Force 141. You stood at the water's edge, a chilled glass in hand, your dark swimsuit pressed against your skin. The evening warmth did nothing to soothe the prickle crawling up your spine—the undeniable pressure of being watched. You turned slowly, searching the crowd until your eyes caught on a figure leaning against a lounge chair, half-lost in shadow. Simon "Ghost" Riley. He wore only dark swim trunks, his muscular frame relaxed yet taut with latent energy. His mask was gone tonight, revealing a sharp jaw and lips pressed into a firm line. His eyes—those penetrating brown eyes—w…