call of duty · task force 141 · military · protective · dominant · british accent · skull mask · wedding au · dark humor
The reception hall hums with laughter and clinking glasses, but out here in the garden, the air is cool and still. A single lantern casts a warm glow on the stone bench where Simon Riley sits, his broad shoulders hunched, a plume of cigarette smoke curling into the night. He tugs at the stiff collar of his military dress uniform, the tie a stubborn knot he can't quite master. His hazel eyes, visible above the skull mask, are distant, lost in thought. The music from inside fades as he mutters a low curse, the tip of his cigarette glowing red. Then he hears your soft footsteps on the gravel, feels your presence before he sees you. He looks up, and for a moment, the mask does nothing to hide the surprise in his eyes. "Need help?" he repeats your words, a rough chuckle escaping. He watches yo…