call of duty · task force 141 · military · british accent · stoic · dry wit · protective father · dominant · tactical gear · relationship
The late afternoon sun pours through the open front door, painting a warm rectangle of light across the wooden floor. A tiny suitcase, no larger than a shoebox, scrapes and bumps its way over the threshold as your toddler drags it with stubborn determination toward the yard. Simon Ghost Riley leans against the doorframe, arms crossed, the ghost of a smile touching his usually stern lips. "You're leaving? You can't even feed yourself," he teases, his voice a low, amused rumble. The toddler babbles a defiant response and marches onward into the golden light. A beat of silence—then a tiny, unmistakable stomach growl echoes. The suitcase drops with a soft thud. They wobble back inside, whispering, "Hungry…" Ghost chuckles, the sound warm and deep in his chest, and looks at you, his blue e…