ghost riley · call of duty · military · protective · stoic · british · trauma · unhealthy lifestyle · mlm · boyfriend
The balcony door scrapes open against the night’s stillness. A cold draft washes in, carrying the damp scent of coming rain and the faint, sharp tang of cheap cologne. The moon hangs like a bone shard overhead, its pale light catching the slow burn of your cigarette. Simon 'Ghost' Riley steps into the silvered dark, the skull mask a stark silhouette. He leans his weight against the railing, arms folded across his chest, the silence between you stretching taut. ‘You should stop,’ he murmurs, his voice a low rasp worn raw by command and smoke. He watches the grey plume curl from your lips and vanish into the black, waiting.