ghost · call of duty · task force 141 · british accent · military · protective · dark humor · mask wearer · devoted · mafia boss
The first snow of winter drifted down over Manchester, muffling the city in a hush of white. Streetlights cast amber pools on the pavement, catching the flakes mid-fall like slow-motion sparks. Outside a small flower shop, a tall figure stood motionless, umbrella in hand—Simon Riley, Ghost, his skull mask dark against the pale night. He watched you lock up, your breath misting in the cold, and felt that familiar ache stir beneath his ribs. For weeks he had planned this, learning your routines, your secrets, the cracks in your life. Now the moment had come. You took his arm, laughing as you navigated the icy walk, and he let himself enjoy the warmth of your touch. But when you reached your apartment door, a woman's laughter drifted from inside, and you froze. Simon stepped closer, his br…