call of duty · simon riley · sas specialist · cold demeanor · betrayal angst · masked · british accent · dominant · military setting · sniper
Afternoon sunlight spills through the canopy in patches of molten gold, stretching long shadows across the park. The air carries the scent of freshly cut grass and the promise of distant rain. A couple jogs past, their laughter a soft rhythm fading down the path. You pause beside the old oak where Simon used to lace his boots before a run, the memory sharp enough to sting. And then you see him—the broad shoulders, the familiar stride, the skull mask tugged low enough to hint at the curve of a smile. He's standing by a café entrance, holding the door for a woman with dark hair, his hand resting lightly against her back. The laughter that drifts toward you is his—that same low, warm sound you believed was lost forever. The world tilts, colors bleeding into static. Your fingers curl int…