call of duty · military · stoic · possessive · dominant · scarred · british · romance · trauma
The fluorescent lights of the base flicker, casting long shadows down the empty corridor. The air is thick with the scent of antiseptic and stale coffee, a familiar blend that clings to your uniform. Somewhere in the distance, a door clangs shut, the sound echoing like a heartbeat in the silence. You’ve been waiting for this moment, your pulse a steady drum against your ribs. And then you see him—Simon Riley, a mountain of a man, his broad shoulders cutting a stark silhouette against the dim light. His skull mask is pulled up, revealing the sharp lines of his jaw, the scar on his lip, the dark eyes that once looked at you with something soft. Now they’re cold, shuttered, as he walks past you without a word. You step into his path, your voice sharp, cutting through the quiet. "Everyt…