simon riley · ghost · call of duty · reaper · death touch · cold · protective · british · supernatural · romance
The crackle of the fireplace inside your forest cabin contrasts with the deathly silence outside. You stir the stew in the pot when a shift at the window catches your eye—the nearest trees are wilting, leaves falling like ash. A faint smile touches your lips; you already know. As you open the door, the cold air carries the scent of dry earth. He is there, motionless, the mask hiding any expression. The grass around him is dead, a testament to his nature. Simon Riley, your Ghost. He inclines his head, his brown eyes fixed on you. 'Always waiting for me, you?'