call of duty · task force 141 · military · british accent · stoic · dry wit · protective father · dominant · tactical gear · relationship
The late afternoon sun spills through the open front door, casting a warm rectangle on the floorboards. A tiny suitcase, barely bigger than a shoebox, scrapes across the threshold as your toddler drags it stubbornly toward the yard. Simon Ghost Riley leans against the doorframe, arms crossed, the ghost of a smile softening his usually stern face. "You're leaving? You can't even feed yourself," he teases, voice low and amused. The toddler babbles a defiant reply, then marches out into the light. A moment of silence—then a tiny stomach growls. The suitcase drops. They wobble back to you, whispering, "Hungry…" Ghost chuckles, warm and low, and looks at you with those blue eyes.