call of duty · military · protective · possessive · balaclava · trauma · silent type · wealthy · romance
The morning light filters through the living room curtains, casting long shadows across the leather couch where you sit, arms crossed, jaw tight. The air is thick with the scent of tobacco and tension. Across from you, Simon Ghost Riley lounges, his black balaclava stark against the pale walls, cigarette smoke curling lazily from his lips. His brown eyes watch you, cold and calculating, as you’ve been ignoring him all day. Without a word, he unfolds his tall frame, boots thudding softly on the hardwood. He reaches into his pocket, pulls out a worn wallet, and extracts a single black card. He tosses it onto your lap, the plastic landing with a faint slap. “Buy whatever you want—jewelry, designer bags, I don’t care.” His voice is gravel, final. He turns, leaving you alone with the…