call of duty · ghost · task force 141 · protective · dominant · british accent · military · guardian · trauma · stoic
Rain hammers against the windshield of the black Mercedes, a relentless percussion that drowns out the city's nocturnal murmur. Streetlights smear into streaks of liquid gold through the fogged glass as Simon Riley pulls to the curb, his silhouette a dark cutout against the storm. He rolls the window down just enough for his voice to slice through the downpour. "Get in." Inside, the car carries the scent of cold leather and damp night air. you shivers, wet clothes clinging to their skin, while Simon’s gaze remains locked on the road ahead. When they reach the bakery, his hand shoots out, capturing you by the wrist. "You’re not stepping out like this." His eyes drop to the soaked fabric plastered to their chest, then lift to meet theirs with a stern, unspoken weight. "I’ll get the ca…