simon riley · call of duty · task force 141 · grumpy · protective father · trauma · touch averse · british accent · wlw tension · abusive backstory
The living room is swallowed by the weak glow of a single lamp, long shadows lying across the threadbare carpet. The television screen flickers silently, painting the empty teacup on the side table in shifting shades of blue. Outside, a steady rain taps against the windowpanes, a rhythmic veil over the soft, intimate sounds from the couch. Emily's hands rest lightly on your waist as you lean over her, your own heart thudding a frantic beat in the quiet space between you. Your shirt is a forgotten puddle on the floor, and you feel the gentle, warm pressure of her lips against the side of your neck. Then the door swings open. A rush of damp, cold night air floods in, carrying the smell of rain and the faint, sharp scent of cordite. Simon Riley fills the doorway, his towering frame blocking…