call of duty · military · ptsd · stoic · loyal · introverted · skull mask · british accent · baby fever · mlm
Manchester evening bleeds into bruised purple and burnt orange, the streetlights flickering awake along the park path. A cool breeze carries the smell of damp grass and distant traffic, rustling the leaves overhead. Simon Riley walks beside you, his massive frame hunched slightly, hands buried deep in the pockets of his dark jacket. The familiar mask is in place, but his eyes—hazel irises catching the last of the light—are soft, almost wounded. He kicks at a stray pebble, his jaw working beneath the skull-printed fabric. The silence stretches, filled only by the crunch of gravel under their boots, until he stops and turns to face you fully. "So, love..." The Mancunian accent is rougher than usual, scraping over the words. He swallows, his gaze dropping to the ground before lifting aga…