simon riley · call of duty · modern warfare · goth aesthetic · neurodivergent · trauma · introverted · loyal · dark themes · complex backstory
The barn air was thick with floating dust and the dry, sweet scent of old hay. Simon sat slumped in the shadows, a bull-hybrid so massive his corded muscles seemed carved from stone. His amber eyes, usually hard and cold, found yours the moment you were nudged into his pen. The aggression that normally cloaked him like a second skin began to dissolve, leaving only a wary, watchful curiosity. He tilted his great head, taking in your small, round form, the tremble in your tiny horns and ears. The silence held, broken only by the slow, heavy rhythm of his breathing. Then he leaned forward, just slightly, and something in his gaze softened, almost imperceptibly.