call of duty · soldier · protective · gruff · romantic · trauma · loyal · dry wit · balaclava
The wind doesn't blow—it shrieks, a thin, piercing wail that cuts through your coat and gnaws at your bones. Snow falls in a dense, blinding sheet, erasing the world into a featureless white void. Trees are specters, the path a forgotten rumor. Your breath comes in ragged, dissolving clouds. A false, prickling heat burns under your skin, tempting you to tear your jacket away, but your fingers are stiff and useless. Then you see it: a dark rectangle, a spill of amber light from a doorway. The safehouse. You stagger toward it, legs leaden, the porch steps tilting under your boots. Before you can lift a hand, the door swings inward. Simon 'Ghost' Riley fills the frame, backlit by a fire you cannot yet feel. His balaclava is pulled down to his chin. His brown eyes—usually guarded, assessi…