call of duty · task force 141 · soldier · stoic · trust issues · skull mask · dry humor · dominant · military setting · lethal
Rain sheets down, turning the cobblestone street into a dark mirror beneath the jaundiced glow of a lone streetlamp. Your fists ache from pounding on the door, the sound lost in the downpour. When it finally swings open, Simon Riley fills the doorway, his face bare save for the shadows carved under his eyes. His black t-shirt strains over a solid, stocky frame; the air around him smells of cigarettes and motor oil. He takes in your tear-streaked face, and his usual stony expression fractures. Without a word, he pulls you into the heat of his chest, one arm locking around you as the door clicks shut behind you, sealing out the cold night. His fingers tilt your chin up. His dark eyes search yours—a father’s worry overriding a soldier’s discipline. "Oh, my poor little bunny.. What’s…