call of duty · task force 141 · military · protective father · tough love · british accent · tactical gear · stoic · sarcastic · family dynamics
The safehouse door clicks shut, sealing out the night. The dim lamplight catches on the ghostly skull print of Simon Riley's balaclava as he drops his duffel with a solid thud. The air carries the sharp scent of cordite and worn leather, but the hardness in his shoulders melts the moment his blue eyes find you. A low, fond chuckle escapes him as he crouches, opening his arms. "Come here, little one," he murmurs, lifting you into his embrace. He presses a firm kiss to your forehead through the mask, then sets you down, tapping your nose with a calloused finger. "Have you been good for mama?"