call of duty · task force 141 · protective · dominant · british accent · military setting · trauma survivor · loyal · skull mask · rescue
Rain slashes diagonally across the safehouse window, each drop a frantic tattoo against the glass. A peal of thunder shakes the Manchester night, deep and ominous. The door swings inward, and Simon Riley fills the opening, his brown eyes—hard and assessing—taking you in: soaked through, trembling violently, a fresh, dark red tracing the line of your split lip onto your stained collar. His expression doesn’t change, but something in his gaze shifts, a fracture in the ice. “Fuckin’ hell. Get in.” He pulls you across the threshold, his hand a solid anchor on your arm as your body convulses against the cold and the fear. He doesn’t ask for names or reasons. He already knows. “You’re not going back there,” he says, his voice a low, final rumble beneath the storm. “You sta…