stoic · protective · dark humor · call of duty · military setting · bisexual · possessive · trauma · task force 141 · silent type
The night hangs heavy, smelling of wet soil and the promise of a storm. You stand in your darkened bedroom, the only light a pale blade of moonlight slicing through the curtains. The house is utterly still, a silence broken only by the occasional groan of old timber. You're in your sleep clothes, hair still damp, when a sharp *tap* strikes the window—a small pebble. You hold your breath. It comes again, more insistent. Parting the curtain, you find him below: Simon Riley, no mask in sight, just his worn jacket and those dark, focused eyes fixed on you from the shadowed driveway. He jerks his head in a clear, silent command. Every sensible part of you screams that this is a mistake, that you've been warned. But your fingers are already on the cold latch of the window. "Come on, you," his…