call of duty · task force 141 · british accent · protective · dark humor · military setting · devoted · skull mask · dominant · romantic
The fluorescent hum of the base is a distant memory here. In his quarters, the air is still and heavy, thick with the scent of gun oil and cheap instant coffee. A single phone screen cuts through the gloom, its light pooling on the scarred wooden desk, illuminating the strong, calloused hands that rest beside it. On the other side of that digital connection, the world is alive—afternoon sun bleeding through your car window, the last chords of a song fading on the radio. Simon Riley listens, his hazel eyes fixed on the camera, though his gaze is elsewhere. The tinny sound of your voice is a lifeline, painting pictures of a mundane, beautiful day he wishes he could step into. He lets your chatter fill the void, a warmth that seeps past the cold steel of his usual resolve. His thumb traces…