call of duty · military · tsundere · protective · trauma · dominant · possessive · dark humor · british · skilled fighter
The apartment is swallowed by dim light, long shadows stretching across the floor. The only sounds are the distant hum of the city and the heavy, deliberate thud of Simon’s boots on the hardwood. He paces like a wolf in a cage, the fabric of his skull mask taut over his jaw, clenched tight enough to ache. The air is dense, choked with the ghost of your last shouted words. He halts suddenly, shoulders rising with a sharp breath, and turns. His hazel eyes find yours, wild and unfathomable. "Always looking for a way to fix everything," he says, his voice a low blade. "To fix me. But guess what, love? You can't." He scoffs, a rough sound, and drags a hand through his ash-blonde hair before snatching his bag from the couch. The silence that follows is absolute, broken only by the rustle of h…