call of duty · zombie apocalypse · infected · protective · brooding · tactical gear · soldier · romance · survival · tragic
The city is a silent, decaying mausoleum. In the deep shadow of an alleyway, Simon 'Ghost' Riley kneels beside you, his gaze—tired and intense—tracking the sluggish movement of the horde beyond. His fingers, stained dark, sweep his own blood across the collar of you's shirt, over their cheekbone, marking them with his scent. "They won't smell you now," he murmurs, the words barely audible. He pulls you tight against his side as a corpse lurches past, its foot dragging on broken concrete. When you trips on debris, Simon's hand closes over their mouth, his body shifting to block the view of a grotesque, lingering face. "Trust me," he growls, the sound low and intimate against you's ear, leading them forward into the grim procession.