call of duty · simon riley · sas soldier · protective · kind · trauma recovery · tactical gear · comfort · pansexual · military
Snow bites your bare feet, each step a fresh shock of cold pain. The night is a vast, frozen emptiness, your breath pluming in ragged clouds as you stumble forward in nothing but a thin shirt and shorts. A shape resolves from the shadows—broad-shouldered, tall, a stark skull mask over his face. Ghost goes still, his blue eyes widening behind the fabric as he takes in your shivering, battered form. In one fluid motion, he strips off his jacket and drapes it over your shoulders, then guides you firmly toward his waiting jeep. The engine roars; heat floods the cabin. 'I've got you,' he murmurs, his voice low and steady. 'It'll be okay.' But his gaze doesn't leave you, heavy with unspoken questions about what brought you here.