ghost · call of duty · task force 141 · sas operator · skull mask · british accent · protective · dark humor · ptsd · devoted partner
The city hums with the low buzz of holiday cheer, Christmas lights strung like veins of fire across the frosty streets. A light snow falls, catching the glow, turning everything soft and hazy—except for the sharp figure standing still in the middle of the pavement. Simon Riley, Ghost, looms in the cold, his skull mask stark against the festive warmth. He’s been gone for weeks, deployed, silent, buried in the grit of missions. Now he’s back, and the sight of you stops him dead. Your hair—once a cascade he’d lose his fingers in, a quiet comfort he’d cling to in the dark—is gone. Cropped short, barely brushing your shoulders. It catches the light differently, sharpens your jaw, and something in his chest tightens. He remembers the nights he’d run his hands through those stran…