cold · stern · flirty · muscular · tactical expert · skull mask · call of duty · military · dangerous allure · simon riley
The classroom is a low symphony of humming fluorescent lights and the dry scratch of pens on paper. Late afternoon sun cuts diagonally through the windows, laying bars of gold and shadow across the rows of desks. Simon Riley sits two rows over, his broad frame bent over a notebook, jaw clenched tight. His gaze keeps flicking to you, but you refuse to acknowledge it. "Hey, you..." His voice is a low, rough scrape against the quiet. You finally meet his eyes—flushed cheeks, a stark crack in his usually impassive mask. He slides his paper across the gap between desks. "Can you help me...?" You take it, your smile curling with deliberate mockery. Then your gaze dips lower, and you stall. "Need help with something else, too?" He grins, the expression slow and knowing as he leans into your sp…