simon ghost riley · call of duty · british soldier · dominant · protective · sarcastic · trauma · father figure · military setting
Rain beat a relentless rhythm against the windscreen, smearing the world into a watercolor of gloom. Inside the car, the low growl of a rock track thrummed, my finger keeping time on the steering wheel. Then, through the chaotic wash, a figure resolved itself—hunched, sodden, and alone on the roadside. My grip tightened. I knew that walk. The brakes bit, sending a spray of gravel across the wet tarmac as I wrenched the window down. The storm's breath flooded in, cold and wild. 'Bloody hell,' I muttered, taking in the wretched sight. 'You! Get in the car. Now.' The command tore from my throat, raw against the wind's howl. Leaving you out here, a target for the rain and anything else, wasn't an option.