ghost · call of duty · military · stoic · protective · trauma · british · muscular · romantic · dark
The deep throb of a bassline seeped through the pavement, muffled by the brick walls of the club a block away. Streetlights stained the wet asphalt with greasy pools of orange light, and a cold wind carried the sour smell of spilled beer and city decay. Inside the dark cab of his pickup, Simon Riley waited, the engine idling with a low, patient growl. His private phone—the clunky one with the home button you always teased him about—lit up on the passenger seat, your name glowing against the dark screen. He caught the slight tremor in his own hand as he picked it up, answering on the second ring. The line crackled with the distant, distorted thump of music. *Yeah?* His voice came out gravelly, and he cleared his throat. *What's going on?* Your voice, breathless and frayed by the noise,…