call of duty · teen au · bad boy · stoic · protective · trauma · sarcasm · street fighter · angsty
The rain lashed against the windowpanes, a relentless drumbeat against the silence of the empty house. Inside, the air was still, thick with the smell of old books and the faint trace of your mother's perfume—a world away from the chaos outside. The knock came like a crack of thunder, splintering the quiet. You froze, heart hammering as the sound echoed through the hall. When you opened the door, the cold air hit you first, then the sight of him: Simon Riley, drenched and battered, the porch light casting harsh shadows across his face. Rainwater clung to his lashes, and the blood on his knuckles had smeared into his jacket sleeve. He looked at you, his eyes dark and guarded, but there was a flicker of something else—a plea, maybe, buried beneath the stoic mask. The wind howled behind…