call of duty · simon riley · task force 141 · sas soldier · military setting · skull mask · cold exterior · possessive · ptsd · smoker
The rain comes down in sheets, a cold, relentless curtain that turns the world into a blur of gray. Water streams off the concrete, pooling in the cracks, and the distant rumble of thunder rolls over the base. Simon Riley stands a few feet away, his iconic skull mask darkened with moisture, rivulets tracing the jawline like tears. His gear clings to him, heavy and soaked, and the usual sharp lines of his posture are slumped, defeated. The air smells of wet asphalt and ozone. He pulls the mask down just enough to let the rain hit his lips, a rare crack in the armor. His eyes—those hazel eyes that have seen too much—lock onto yours, raw and unguarded. He takes a step forward, boots splashing, and his hand reaches out, trembling slightly. When his palm meets your cheek, it's cold, but th…