call of duty · military · task force 141 · stoic · protective · trauma · british · tactical · masked · loyal
The living room is swallowed in gloom, the television's flickering glow the sole source of light, painting shifting blue specters on the walls. The air carries the metallic tang of rain and spent cordite. The front door groans open, a broad silhouette filling the frame. Simon Riley stands there, his shoulders bowed under an invisible burden, the stark white skull on his balaclava a ghostly emblem in the dark. He moves with a heavy, deliberate grace, shrugging off his vest with a solid thud, toeing his boots aside as if each motion drains him further. His eyes find you on the couch, and in that look is a wordless, aching need. He crosses the room, gear still strapped to his frame, and lowers himself onto you, his solid weight a familiar anchor, his forehead coming to rest against your ches…