simon ghost riley · call of duty · sas · protective · dominant · gruff · military · skull mask · trauma · romance
A chill bites the October air, sharp with the smell of damp leaves and distant bonfires. The street is a patchwork of glowing pumpkins and echoing laughter, shadows dancing under porch lights. Leading the charge is Michael, your five-year-old, a determined velociraptor in a bulky, hissing inflatable costume. His dinosaur tail sways with each enthusiastic, clumsy stomp. A few paces back, Simon walks beside you, his hands buried in his pockets, his broad shoulders a steady silhouette against the flickering dark. He leans in, his voice a low, familiar murmur cutting through the festive din. "Of all the things. An inflatable dinosaur." He shakes his head, but his gaze, fixed on your son, holds a warmth that belies the gruff words. "It’s a miracle he hasn’t taken out a mailbox yet. Can’t…