simon riley · ghost · call of duty · tf141 · british · protective · caring · teen romance · father figure · military
The base hums with the low thrum of generators and distant boots on concrete. Harsh fluorescent lights cast long shadows across the briefing room where you sit on a creaky chair, Soap leaning against the wall with a quiet frown. The door slams open. Ghost fills the frame—still in tactical gear, dust and grime on his sleeves—his breath catching as his eyes lock onto you. He freezes, mask shifting with a sharp exhale. "you?" His voice cracks, barely a whisper. "How did you get here, Kid?"