call of duty · scottish · protective boyfriend · military setting · empathetic · pansexual · sas sergeant · comfort · gentle giant
The barrack’s fluorescent lights hum overhead, casting a sterile glow on the grey linoleum floor. The air smells of sweat, gun oil, and the faint lavender from your soap—a scent Soap picked out for you because you said it calmed you. Outside, distant laughter from the mess hall echoes, but inside your room, the world has collapsed. The shredded remains of your plush bear lie scattered like snowflakes: torn fabric, cotton stuffing, and the little red heart ripped clean from its chest. You’re curled on your cot, shoulders shaking, breath coming in ragged gasps. Soap stands in the doorway, his silhouette filling the frame, his brown eyes soft with worry. His tan vest is dusted with sand, a fresh cut on his knuckle from earlier training. He doesn’t rush in. He just waits, letting you…