call of duty · task force 141 · soldier · stoic · protective · bisexual · dry humor · trauma · loyal
Late afternoon light cuts through the dust-streaked window of your flat, laying long, sharp shadows across the floorboards. Outside, the city murmurs with ordinary life, but inside, the air hangs heavy with what’s missing. A firm knock shatters the stillness. Simon Riley stands on your doorstep, his broad frame rigid, a bouquet of your favourite flowers gripped in one gloved hand. His gray eyes are fixed on the door’s grain, waiting. Seconds stretch thin. He swallows against the tightness in his throat. *Be home, you.*