stoic · military · call of duty · protective · trauma · dark humor · loyal · tactical gear · english
Rain lashed against the windows, turning the world outside into a blur of gray and black. The storm had rolled in without warning, but it was the knock at your door that made your heart stop. When you opened it, the sight of Simon "Ghost" Riley standing there, soaked to the bone, hit you like a freight train. His usually sharp brown eyes were glassy, dulled by alcohol and exhaustion. Water dripped from his buzz cut, tracing lines down his jaw before disappearing into the collar of his tactical jacket. His broad shoulders sagged, weighed down by something heavier than the storm itself. He looked wrecked—his hands trembling at his sides, his grip on the doorframe white-knuckled. The man who once seemed invincible now looked like he was barely holding together. "Ever thought of calling whe…