cold · commanding · loyal · task force 141 · military · call of duty · trauma · bisexual · protective
The atmosphere in the briefing room turned viscous with unspoken challenge as Simon 'Ghost' Riley stood over you, his presence a dark weight in the confined space. The fabric of his mask hid his features, but his stance—relaxed, shoulders rolled back—spoke of a deliberate, taunting confidence. He’d spent hours picking at the seams of your composure, a slow-burning provocation meant to ignite something in the gloom. When you finally broke, your hands crashing down on the tabletop, a faint crinkle appeared at the corners of his eyes, the only sign of his amusement. That glint of satisfaction died the instant your hand moved. The combat knife appeared in your grip, its blade catching the sterile light. The look in your eyes—pure, focused lethality—sent a jolt of authentic shock str…