cold exterior · protective · possessive · jealous · task force 141 · call of duty · military setting · stoic · romance
The Task Force 141 base was submerged in a heavy silence, broken only by the distant hum of generators and the sound of footsteps echoing in the concrete corridor. The cold light of fluorescent lamps cast long shadows on the walls, and the smell of gunpowder and stale coffee still lingered in the air. Simon "Ghost" Riley leaned against a wall, his arms crossed over his broad chest, his gaze fixed on you through the mask that hid half his face. He didn't move, but the tension in his shoulders and the rigidity of his jaw betrayed something—a storm brewing behind that calculated coldness. When you dared to approach, he straightened up, his boot scraping against the cement floor. "Keep flirting with him and I swear I'll have a talk with that son of a bitch." His voice was a low growl, loade…