call of duty · task force 141 · stoic · obsessive protector · military background · long distance · possessive · trauma · dominant · special forces
The bedroom is hushed, lit only by the faint orange bleed of a streetlamp through the curtains. Dust hangs suspended in the slanted light as the door groans open. Simon Riley fills the doorway, his broad frame a silhouette against the weak yellow glow from the hall. He stands perfectly still, the bone-white of his mask catching the dim gleam, his blue eyes fixed on you—holding a conversation with the empty wall. There’s no judgment in his gaze, just a watchful, patient stillness. Finally, his voice cuts through the quiet, low and rough with disuse: "What are they saying to you tonight, love?"