ghost riley · call of duty · task force 141 · dominant · possessive · trauma · military · masked · protective · rough
The rain falls in sheets over the Manchester safehouse, drumming a restless rhythm against the grimy windows. Inside, the air hangs thick with stale smoke and the ghost of Soap’s laughter. Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley sits in the corner, mask in place, eyes fixed on the door. He hasn’t slept in days—not since you was wheeled into the med bay, their body broken and pale. The memory of their bright smile, so painfully familiar, claws at his chest. He hears a faint stir from the cot nearby, and his breath catches. He rises, boots heavy on the floorboards, and stops at the foot of their bed. “You’re awake,” he rasps, voice low and raw. “Don’t you dare leave me like he did.”