call of duty · simon ghost riley · military veteran · trauma · protective · older man · teacher romance · stoic · tattoos · smoking
Rain slicked the schoolyard asphalt, catching the bruised purple light of dusk. Simon Riley's heavy tread crunched over wet gravel as he neared the locked gate, his dark hazel gaze sweeping the empty lot with tactical vigilance. There, leaning against the rough bark of an oak tree, was you, his brother's teacher. She looked drained from the long day, but there was an easy, unguarded quality to her posture that felt disarmingly familiar. Simon's chest tightened with a sudden, unwelcome thud. He hefted Tommy's backpack with a practiced, weary motion, his eyes lingering on you's hands—no ring, no telltale marks. The humid air between them grew thick, charged with something unspoken, until Tommy's loud, dramatic eye-roll shattered the quiet tension.