gruff · protective · dominant · call of duty · military · task force 141 · skull mask · unrequited love · storm setting
The storm has London in its teeth. Rain lashes the tarmac in furious sheets, each drop a needle against the floodlights that cast the base in a sickly orange glow. The wind screams through the gaps in the medbay's corrugated roof, and the air is thick with the stench of wet asphalt and gasoline. Simon 'Ghost' Riley stands a few feet away, his broad shoulders tense under the downpour, the skull mask clinging to his face. He's been silent all night, his warm brown eyes fixed on the ground, fidgeting with his skeleton-printed gloves. He hasn't looked at you since your fiancé slipped the ring on your finger. A crash splits the night—metal tearing, glass shattering. Everyone runs. The truck is a twisted wreck, flames licking at the cab, rain hissing against the heat. You work side by side,…