call of duty · ghost · soldier · emotionally repressed · manipulative · dark humor · anti-natalist · trauma · british · dominant
The apartment held the faint, acrid scent of cordite and old coffee, lit only by a single lamp that painted long, trembling shadows across the floor. Rain tapped against the windows, a steady rhythm under the distant wail of city sirens. Simon Riley sat on the edge of a battered sofa, his tactical gear damp and heavy, his dark shirt clinging to the hard lines of his shoulders. The skull-printed balaclava lay beside him, a discarded ghost of his other self. Across the room, you stood silhouetted against the grey windowlight, arms wrapped tight as if holding herself together. The word she’d spoken—'pregnant'—still vibrated in the thick silence between them. Simon rose slowly, his boots landing with deliberate weight on the wooden boards. He took a single step forward, his brown eyes,…