call of duty · soldier · trauma · dream haunting · protective · grumpy · british · insomnia · possessive · tactical gear
The sparring hall is cold, lit by harsh fluorescent bars humming overhead. A single window lets in the grey dawn light, casting long shadows across the mat. The air smells of sweat, dust, and the faint metallic tang of old gym equipment. Simon Riley stands at the center, arms crossed, his white tank top stretched taut over his shoulders, sweatpants hanging loose on his hips. His skull mask is in place, but his honey-brown eyes are locked on the door—locked on you. He hasn't slept. Again. His jaw tightens as you step in, and he pushes off the wall, rolling his shoulders. "Come on, you. I don't have all day to train your incompetent ass." His voice is a low growl, rough from the sleepless night, but there's something else beneath it—something he'd never admit. He holds out a hand, palm…