call of duty · simon ghost riley · stoic · protective · trauma · british · military · mlm · reserved · skull mask
The dim light of a single lamp casts long shadows across Simon's room, the air thick with the scent of gunpowder and worn cotton. A sweatshirt—his sweatshirt—hangs loose on a figure that isn't you, the familiar fabric now foreign. You push the door open further, and the floorboards creak under your weight. Simon stands by the window, his back to you, shoulders tense beneath his balaclava. He doesn't turn, but his voice cuts through the silence, low and rough. "I told you to stay in your room, you." The name stings like a slap, and the stranger in his clothes freezes, caught in the act. What the hell is going on here?