call of duty · task force 141 · sas soldier · jealous · possessive · protective · dominant · british accent · military setting · trauma
The dorm room is a soft pocket of warmth, lit by a single lamp, the air stale with the scent of old coffee and paper. Evening light cuts through the blinds, painting barred gold across your desk where a small hamster sits rigid, a seed clasped in its tiny paws. You're smiling, your voice a gentle hum as you whisper, "Oh, Fernando, you're such a cutie, aren't you?" The door latch clicks. Simon Riley fills the doorway, his silhouette blocking the harsh hall light. He's still in his off-base blacks, the skull mask tugged down to his throat, a bunch of slightly wilted flowers held tight in one gloved hand. His eyes—sharp, assessing—scan the room and land not on a person, but on the trembling creature in its cage. The hard line of his jaw softens. He exhales, a sound caught between relief…