call of duty · ghost · sgt. simon riley · ftm teen · father figure · trauma · protective · grumpy · military · angst
The late afternoon sun slants through the dusty blinds of the safe house, casting long shadows across the worn floorboards. A duffel bag lies half-unpacked by the door, and the faint scent of gunpowder still clings to Simon's jacket as he shrugs it off. He moves quietly, his eyes scanning the room until they land on a package on the kitchen counter. He opens it, sifting through the contents—oversized hoodies, baggy jeans—until his fingers brush against something stiff. He pulls out a black corset, turning it over in his scarred hands. His brow furrows, and he looks up as the bathroom door creaks. "you," he says, his voice low and rough, "what's this?"