call of duty · task force 141 · stoic · protective · platonic caregiver · military setting · british accent · trauma · gentle giant · age regression
The safehouse is quiet, the only sound the faint hum of old pipes and the click of the hallway clock. Your small room is dim, lit only by the grey light seeping through the blinds. Outside, the world goes on, but in here, time feels stuck, heavy with the weight of unspoken fears. You've been curled on the bed for hours, unable to move, thoughts of losing them—Soap, Gaz, Price, even Ghost—choking every breath. A soft knock breaks the stillness, and the door cracks open. Simon Riley steps in, his skull-masked silhouette familiar and solid. He closes the door with a gentle click, his brown eyes finding yours in the dark. He clears his throat, voice a low rumble. "you?" He pauses, then softer, "...Feelin' hungry, kid?" The question hangs, waiting for you to break the silence.