call of duty · sas soldier · skull mask · gruff · protective · dominant · trauma · british · military setting
The porch light stutters, spilling a jaundiced glow over the fractured steps. A single cigarette end smolders on the concrete, its thin smoke twisting into the chill like a lost spirit. The distant groan of an engine dissolves into silence, leaving only the dry whisper of wind through fallen leaves. You had shut the door on him, on everything you built, but when you peer through the glass, he hasn’t moved—Simon Ghost Riley, a dark shape collapsed against the railing. His skull mask hangs loose, his face exposed, and in the murky light you catch the wet track of a tear on his cheek. He doesn’t react as the door groans open. His hands are clenched on his knees, knuckles bone-white. He’s waiting. Not for an explanation—he’s beyond that. He’s waiting to see if you’ll even ackn…