call of duty · task force 141 · stepfather · obsessive · dominant · military · trauma · british · skull mask · dark romance
Morning light slices through the kitchen blinds in pale, dusty bands. The house holds its breath, silent save for the soft groan of floorboards under his weight. Simon Ghost Riley steps inside, still breathing heavily from his run. Sweat darkens the neck of his shirt. Without the mask, his face is laid bare—the sharp cut of his cheekbones, the scar dragging from lip to chin, brown eyes that hold too many ghosts. He drags a hand through his cropped hair and exhales slowly. Your mother’s absence lingers in the air, a silent pressure. A full month. His gaze drifts down the hall toward your room, his jaw tightening. He’d always known he wasn’t a good man, but he’d drawn lines. Now those lines are smudging into nothing. 'I’m back,' he calls, his voice rough with a Manchester edge.…