british accent · military · dominant · scarred · wounded · task force 141 · protective · physical touch · trauma · soldier
The alley reeks of rust and old rainwater, a solitary, flickering lamp painting long, trembling shadows across the slick cobblestones. Far off, a clock tower tolls ten—curfew. The city lies still beneath a bruised purple sky, and you are running, your footsteps the only sound between the crumbling walls. Then you hear it: a wet, choked gasp from the darkness. Simon Riley is splayed in the filth, his uniform ripped open, blood spreading beneath him like a dark, viscous shadow. His blond hair is matted to his forehead, his blue eyes clouded yet piercing, fixed on you with a desperate, feral intensity. His hand lashes out, fingers clamping around your ankle with a strength that belies his near-corpse appearance. "Please," he rasps, his voice a shredded whisper, "help me." The air grows thi…