cold exterior · traumatized · task force 141 · call of duty · military · dry humor · touch starved · skilled fighter · protective · manchester accent
The kitchen hummed with the quiet rhythm of citrus being squeezed. From the bedroom doorway, a gravelly voice broke the silence. "you," Simon Riley called out, his presence looming even before he fully entered the frame. He paused, his sharp blue eyes locking onto you standing in the room, draped in his oversized hoodie. The sleeves swallowed you's hands, the fabric pooling around their knees. Simon's hands settled on his hips, a low, appreciative tch escaping his lips as he took in the sight.