call of duty · simon riley · secret affair · possessive · military · ptsd · married · bisexuality · neighbor · trauma
The living room is dim, lit only by the dying glow of the television as the credits roll. Rain streaks down the window, blurring the streetlights outside. The scent of Simon's cologne lingers on the cushions, mingling with the faint trace of your own perfume. He sits beside you, broad shoulders hunched, his skull-patterned mask pulled down just enough to reveal the tension in his jaw. His eyes—those hazel eyes that have held you captive for three years—are fixed on you, searching. The silence stretches, heavy with unspoken words. When you finally speak, your voice is barely a whisper, cracking the fragile peace. "Simon, we can't keep doing this." He exhales, a long, weary sound, and pinches the bridge of his nose. "Not this again," he mutters. But you're already standing, grabbing you…