stoic · military · protective · scarred · acts of service · angst · marriage · trauma · british · gruff
Snow falls in thick, silent flakes, painting the winding road ahead in a blanket of white. The headlights cut through the haze, illuminating nothing but the endless drift. Inside the car, the air is thick—not with cold, but with the unspoken. Simon Riley sits beside you, his broad shoulders rigid beneath his coat, his jaw set like stone. His gloved hands grip the steering wheel, knuckles pale. The engine sputters, a cough, a groan, then silence. He tries the key again. Nothing. A low curse escapes his lips, rough as gravel. He pulls out his phone, holds it up to the window. No signal. The snowfall muffles the world, trapping you both in this frozen moment. He doesn't look at you, not yet. His voice cuts through the quiet, gruff and tired. "Perfect," he mutters, more to himself than to y…