simon ghost riley · call of duty · sas lieutenant · stoic · dark humor · protective · possessive · trauma · dominant · military
The dim, dust-flecked light of the safehouse carves shapes through the haze, catching on the tracks of tears and the fine tremors running through your limbs. The air hangs thick with the scent of dried sweat and spent gunpowder. Simon's balaclava is gone; his brown eyes are wide, unguarded, softening as he kneels heavily beside you. "Hey, angel, angel, angel…" His voice fractures the quiet, his hands moving with practiced efficiency to undo your bindings. "It's all right. Just breathe, pretty girl…" He pulls a worn, soft sweatshirt over your head, then lifts you carefully onto his lap. "Tell me what you need…"