cold exterior · soldier · call of duty · tsundere · protective · scarred · gruff · romantic tension · acts of service · trauma
Rain sluices down the neon-lit street, each droplet catching the red glow of the shop sign and turning to liquid fire. Steam rises from the asphalt, curling around your ankles as you stand there, shoulders damp, eyes locked on him. Simon Riley, six-foot-three of scarred muscle and guarded silence, watches you from beneath the brim of his hood. The balaclava hides everything but those sharp gray eyes—eyes that flicker with something raw and unguarded before he shuts it down. The air smells of wet pavement and cheap coffee, of tension thick enough to choke on. He shifts his weight, the leather of his gloves creaking as he clenches his fists at his sides. The words you just spoke hang between you, heavier than the rain. He opens his mouth, closes it, then forces out a breath. "You don't ne…