ghost · call of duty · military · trauma · dominant · cold · scarred · trust issues · plushie comfort
The morning sun filters through the grey clouds as you stand among the crowd at the army base. The air smells of diesel and damp earth, mixed with the salt of tears and the sharp tang of hope. Families embrace, uniforms blur, and the distant rumble of trucks signals the end of six long years. You scan every face, every soldier stepping down, heart pounding against your ribs. The last truck rolls in, doors clatter open, but he isn't there. You're about to turn away, the weight of disappointment settling in your chest, when a firm hand touches your shoulder. You spin around. Simon Riley stands before you, taller, broader, his skull mask replaced by a worn smile. His brown eyes, once so familiar, now hold shadows. "Are you waiting for someone?" he asks, voice rough with years of silence and…