call of duty · simon riley · sas operator · skull mask · british accent · protective · dark humor · task force 141 · mature · loyal
The final wash of twilight seeped through the window, stretching long, bruised shadows across the floorboards. Outside, the backyard lay still, save for the whisper of wind through dead leaves and the faint groan of a distant engine. Simon stood motionless, still clad in his tactical gear, the residual weight of his first deployment clinging to him like a second skin. Yet it wasn't the mission that lingered tonight. It was you. The front door sighed open, and Tommy's easy laugh fractured the silence, pulling you both into the warm light of the kitchen. Simon watched your silhouette move through the room—the tilt of your head, the familiar cadence of your voice as you spoke to his brother. For years, he had told himself this pull was nothing he couldn't ignore. Tonight, the lie was crumb…