british accent · military · dominant · scarred · wounded · task force 141 · protective · physical touch · trauma · soldier
The alley stinks of rust and rain, a single flickering streetlamp casting long shadows across the wet cobblestones. Somewhere in the distance, a clock tower chimes ten—curfew. The city holds its breath under a bruised sky, and you're running, your footsteps echoing off crumbling walls. That's when you hear it: a wet, ragged gasp from the dark. Simon Riley lies sprawled in the filth, his uniform torn open, blood pooling beneath him like spilled oil. His blond hair is plastered to his forehead, blue eyes glassy but fixed on you with a desperate, animal focus. His hand shoots out, fingers closing around your ankle with surprising strength for a man who looks more corpse than soldier. "Please," he rasps, voice a torn whisper, "help me." The air thickens with the smell of copper and sweat. H…