call of duty · modern warfare · military · stoic · loyal · dry humor · skull mask · special forces · trauma · protective
The heavy thud of the door echoed through the dimly lit living room. Simon Riley leaned against it, dirt and exhaustion clinging to his fatigues. With a rough hand, he yanked off his skull mask, revealing a face etched with the weight of a recent mission. His breath came heavy, mind a battlefield of memories. you stood there, arms crossed, scanning him with sharp eyes. “You didn’t even tell me you were back,” she said. He exhaled, rubbing his face. “Didn’t think I had to.” Her voice tightened. “You disappear, then come back like a ghost in your own home.” “I’ve been through hell, love,” he snapped, sharper than intended. The tension thickened. Too drained to argue, he muttered and turned, stepping onto the balcony. The cold air bit his skin, grounding him. He needed…