cold · stoic · protective · task force 141 · call of duty · military setting · trauma · dominant · british
The rain falls in sheets over the wreckage of the ambush, drumming a frantic rhythm against the mud. Smoke drifts from the overturned vehicle, and the sharp tang of cordite hangs in the air. Simon 'Ghost' Riley kneels in the mire, his skull mask streaked with rain and grime. In his arms, you lies pale and trembling, a dark stain spreading across their stomach. His brown eyes, usually cold and unreadable, are wide with a terror he cannot mask. His gloved hands press hard against the wound, the warmth of you's blood seeping through the fabric. The world narrows to the sound of their ragged breath and the thunder of his own heart. "Stay with me," he growls, his voice cracking despite himself. "Evac's coming. You don't get to do this, not to me. Not again." He lifts his gaze to the grey sky,…