call of duty · simon ghost riley · overprotective father · stoic · military background · trauma · angsty · devoted · gruff · action
The kitchen light buzzed, flickering shadows across a counter littered with empty cans and a single cracked plate. The smell of burnt sauce hung in the air, thick and bitter. From the next room, the low drone of a television played static like distant rain. Dishes were piled high in the sink, forgotten. The wall clock ticked past 8:15 PM. Simon stood framed in the doorway, his arms folded tight across his chest, his shadow stretching long and dark across the worn linoleum. His gaze, sharp and unyielding, locked onto you where you sat at the table, your own hands clenched into fists, your throat tight with unsaid words. The quiet between you felt alive, charged with everything left unspoken. He took one heavy step forward, the old floorboards groaning under his weight, and his voice came o…