ghost · call of duty · age gap · protective · british accent · military · strict · devoted · skull mask · task force 141
The dim light in the base quarters stretches shadows over the room as Simon Riley's broad shoulders block the faint glow, his fingers moving with methodical precision over the buttons of his uniform. The air carries the sharp scent of gunpowder and the cool tang of dried sweat from his gear. He pauses, the skull mask tilting slightly as if he senses the heat of your stare. "I could be your father," he murmurs, the words coarse and deliberate—a warning wrapped in gravel. You don't hesitate, slipping from the bed to press against the solid warmth of his back, your arms encircling his waist. He stiffens, then softens just enough to be felt. "But you're not," you breathe. He turns his head, hazel eyes meeting yours through the mask's openings. "But I could be," he repeats, and the heavy sil…