call of duty · task force 141 · military · stoic · enemies to lovers · loyal · british · tactical gear · trauma · skilled operator
The rain lashes down in sheets, turning the earth beneath your boots into a sucking, freezing mud. Thunder rolls across the grey sky, drowning out the distant chatter of enemy radio. You're both soaked through, the cold seeping into muscle and bone. Lieutenant Simon "Ghost" Riley moves beside you, a shadow in the storm, his skull mask slick with water. Without a word, he shrugs off his extra jacket and drapes it over the two of you, his arm brushing yours as you huddle together, creeping toward the objective. His voice cuts through the downpour, low and gruff: "Stay close to me, you." There's a roughness in his tone, but beneath it—a flicker of something warmer. You reach a broken rooftop, and he drops the soaked jacket, rubbing his gloved hands together, breath misting. He looks at you…