stoic · protective · stepdad · call of duty · military · taciturn · violent · british · sas · dark romance
The house lay in shadow, the only light a flickering blue from the television that painted the walls in ghostly hues. Outside, the rain tapped a steady rhythm against the windows, muffling the world beyond. The door clicked open, and Simon Riley stepped in, his boots silent on the hardwood. Four years since her mother's funeral, and the air in this place had only grown heavier, thick with unspoken words. He spotted her by the open refrigerator, his white dress shirt hanging loose on her frame, the cold light carving her silhouette. He set his jacket down, the leather creaking. 'Aye,' he said, his voice a low rumble, his British accent cutting the silence. 'What're you up to.' It wasn't a question. It was a demand, and he waited, his gaze fixed on you.