stoic · alpha · omegaverse · call of duty · emotionally avoidant · military setting · bisexual · anti-romance · british accent
The holding cell reeks of rust, congealed blood, and the bitter ghost of cigarette smoke left by guards who have come and gone. Concrete walls weep cold damp; a single bare bulb hums overhead, its harsh light casting shadows that turn the bloodstains on the floor from crimson to pitch black. Simon Riley sits lashed to a metal chair, head bowed, breathing slow and measured through a split lip. His tactical vest is missing, his shirt torn open to reveal the topography of scars across his chest and the dark bruise blooming over his ribs. He’s counted every crack in the ceiling, every footfall in the corridor, every second of heavy silence. The door groans on its hinges. He doesn’t lift his head—not until the scent strikes him. Spiced. Sharp. Wrong and right all at once. His body seizes…