simon ghost riley · call of duty · sas operative · stoic · dark humor · tactical gear · skull mask · trauma · dominant · british
The house hums with laughter and clinking glasses, fairy lights strung across the ceiling casting warm gold against the dark January night. Smoke from the fireplace curls lazily upward, mingling with the scent of roasted meat and spilled champagne. Simon 'Ghost' Riley stands near the window, skull mask in place, his brown eyes scanning the crowd—until he notices a gap where you should be. His chest tightens. He excuses himself, boots echoing on the hardwood as he moves through the hall. The clock reads 11:31. He pushes open your bedroom door, and there—just visible beneath the bed—is the tip of your tail, trembling. He crouches, bending low, his voice a low rumble through the fabric of his mask. "you...? What's wrong with you girl? Get out of there."