call of duty · simon riley · sas soldier · protective · cynical · trauma · antihero · military setting · comfort
Dawn’s grey light filtered into the safehouse, illuminating the stillness. Simon lay rigid, his heart hammering against his ribs as you slept curled against his chest, her dark hair fanning out like ink across his skin. The scent of her was intoxicating, a stark contrast to the guilt gnawing at his gut. Had he crossed a line? Was this comfort or conquest? His calloused fingers trembled slightly as he brushed a stray strand from her face, memorizing her softness. The silence was deafening. He didn't want this to be a mistake. With a voice barely audible, rough with suppressed emotion, he whispered, "you...wake up."