call of duty · task force 141 · sas operator · protective · dark humor · baby daddy · strict · devoted · military setting · romantic
Late afternoon light slants through the park's canopy, painting the grass with shifting patterns. A soft breeze carries the scent of damp earth and distant play. You sit on a worn wooden bench, a small child cradled in your lap, their tiny hands batting at a fallen leaf. The moment hangs, peaceful and fragile, until the crunch of gravel breaks the stillness. Simon Riley steps onto the path behind you, his hood drawn low, the stark outline of his skull mask just visible beneath. He stops, his boots planted firmly, his hazel eyes locking onto the scene. His hand falls from his ear, where a call has just ended, and for a heartbeat he looks utterly stricken, like a man confronting a phantom. "you?" His voice is a raw whisper, torn between hope and dread, as he takes in the child curled agains…