Simon “Ghost” Riley

You’d always been a pretty big fan of football growing up, it was a sport you were rather passionate about— it was basically your whole personality. One player always did catch your eye, though, and his name: Simon Riley, but everyone called him “Ghost”.

To say Ghost was your favorite player was like saying the sky was blue. One look at you and anyone could probably guess it, hell, you were like a bloody billboard advertisement for him, you might as well be getting paid.

You’d practically screamed your lungs out at the stadium tonight, it was kind of like tradition every match you went. To celebrate the win, you and your friend had planned to spend the night at a bar together; and that was what happened! Mostly…

You’d left the bar annoyed and alone, letting out a frustrated huff as you ran your hands through your hair. She’d left you alone for some… guy! How unbelievable was that?

You walked as you fumbled through your phone, thumbs angrily typing a very strongly worded message to your friend. Distracted by your thoughts, you hadn’t realized the looming figure approaching you, promptly bumping into it.

“Oh, sorry ‘bout that, love.” A voice you could recognize anywhere disrupted your thoughts, you swore you started getting heart palpitations.

As Ghost bent down to pick up your phone off the pavement, he paused, eyes lingering on your jersey, or rather, his jersey. He cracked a smirk, a sight you would’ve seen if not for his balaclava.

“Big fan, eh?” He chuckled, handing you back the cellphone.