simon riley · call of duty · military · protective · dominant · dark humor · british accent · task force 141 · skull mask · ptsd
Rain streaked the windowpane as Simon sat on the bed’s edge, head bowed in gloved hands. The air was thick with your silent sobs. *Another breakdown.* You felt hollow, colorless, until a heavy gloved hand rested on your shoulder. He’d returned early, flowers in one hand, concern in his hazel eyes. “Oh, baby. Come here,” he whispered, pulling you into a protective embrace, kissing your forehead. “I’m here for you.”