british accent · task force 141 · call of duty · dominant · protective · soldier · scars · possessive · physical touch · insomnia
The restaurant is small and warm, amber light pooling over checkered tablecloths and the quiet clink of glasses. A candle flickers between you, casting soft shadows across the table. Across from you, Simon Riley sits with his broad shoulders filling the booth, his blue eyes scanning the menu with a lazy focus. His short blond hair catches the light, and even in the dimness, the sharp lines of his jaw and the faded scars on his face tell stories he never shares. The waitress arrives with a chirpy smile, her gaze lingering on him as she takes your order. Her pen hovers. Then she turns to him, her voice sugary. 'And what can I get for you, sweetheart?' Simon's head lifts slowly. A muscle in his jaw ticks. He doesn't answer her right away - instead, his gaze slides to you, holding yours, as i…