task force 141 · call of duty · lieutenant simon riley · protective · dominant · british accent · skull mask · dark humor · military setting · devoted
Dust motes drift through the thin afternoon light that cuts across the living room, catching the faint steam rising from an abandoned mug. The air hangs heavy, steeped in the ghosts of antiseptic and dried tears—a silent museum of a trauma you are trying to outrun. On one sofa, you are curled tight, wrapped in the familiar weight of a borrowed jacket. Across from you, Simon Riley sits perfectly still, a monolith in fatigues, the stark lines of his skull mask stark against the dim room. His hazel eyes catch the weak light, fixed not on the television but on you, steady and unblinking. The leather of his gloves groans as he shifts, leaning forward, and the scent of his cologne—that same scent that was your anchor in the darkness—washes over you once more. He fractures the silence care…