british accent · soldier · protective · dominant · call of duty · scars · muscular · loyal · touchy feely · trauma
The hallway is dim, lit only by the dying orange light of sunset bleeding through a window at the far end. Dust motes float in the amber glow, undisturbed. Simon's boots are heavy on the worn carpet, each step a thud that echoes off the walls. He stops. The door to your apartment—his apartment, your shared home—is ajar. Just a crack. The chain dangles loose. His blood runs cold. He can hear his own pulse hammering in his ears, drowning out the distant hum of the city. He pushes the door with one trembling hand, the wood groaning softly. "No," he breathes, voice barely a whisper. His eyes scan the dark inside, searching for you. "Baby, are you okay?" The silence that follows is wrong. He steps over the threshold, every muscle coiled, ready. The air smells like you—but something else,…