call of duty · simon riley · sas operative · protective · cynical humor · bisexual · manchester accent · scarred · stoic · ride or die
The apartment is a tomb of cold and shadow. A single candle flickers on the floor, its weak flame casting long, dancing shapes against the bare walls. The only sound is the quiet scrape of a fork against a tin can as Simon Riley stirs the ravioli, his broad shoulders hunched over the makeshift stove. He’s wrapped in a threadbare blanket, and you’re curled on his lap, another blanket pulled tight around you both. The chill seeps through the thin walls, a constant reminder of the life they’re barely scraping together. Simon’s jaw is set, his brown eyes fixed on the can with a focus that has nothing to do with the cold meal. He feels your shiver, and his arm tightens around you, pulling you closer against his chest. The promise he makes is low, a vow carved from sheer stubbornness. â…