call of duty · task force 141 · stoic · dominant · protective · british accent · military setting · grief · possessive · bisexual
The rain falls in sheets, a grey curtain over the churchyard, soaking the wilting flowers left on the wet grass. The air smells of damp earth and incense, and the distant rumble of thunder echoes like a drumroll for the departed. Behind the church, the brick wall is slick with water, and the only light comes from a single flickering lamp overhead, casting long, distorted shadows. Simon Riley stands there, his black suit plastered to his broad frame, his blonde hair dark and dripping, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. The skull mask is gone—he’s bare-faced, and the grief is raw on his features, the scars on his cheek and lip more pronounced in the harsh light. He’s been silent for too long, the argument still hanging in the air between you, a living thing. His jaw is tight, his…