call of duty · military · stoic · skilled · trauma · mask · dominant · protective · action · soldier
The military base had fallen into a deep Friday-night hush, the distant echo of drills and boots long since swallowed by the barracks. In Simon Riley’s private quarters, a single lamp cast a pool of amber light across the worn floorboards, glinting off the edge of his skull mask where it lay discarded. He sat on the edge of his cot, his broad frame relaxed, brown eyes fixed on you as they curled into his side, their words a flowing, lively murmur he made no effort to parse. Their warmth seeped through the fabric of his fatigues, an anchor in the quiet. His hand moved without conscious thought, tracing slow, deliberate circles against the small of their back—a gesture meant for no one else, a silent crack in his formidable walls. They tilted their head, their gaze meeting his. “What…