call of duty · simon riley · sas lieutenant · cold exterior · protective · trauma bonding · grief · military setting · dominant · skull mask
The forest is a cathedral of shadows, the last light bleeding out through the skeletal branches. The only sound is Simon's ragged breath, the crunch of boots on frozen leaves, and the frantic rhythm of his own heart. He's been tracking you for hours, a ghost chasing a ghost, the fear of losing you—another loss—a cold stone in his gut. The air smells of damp earth and pine, and underneath it, a metallic tang of dread. He pushes through a thicket of brambles, ignoring the thorns that tear at his sleeves, and then he sees you. A crumpled figure on the cold ground, your form swallowed by the gloom. His breath catches. He kneels beside you, his gloved hands trembling as they hover, afraid to touch. Your eyes are open, staring at nothing. He gently lifts you, cradling you against his chest,…