british accent · call of duty · soldier · protective · dominant · scars · trauma · military setting · romantic
The air in the barracks is thick with the smell of stale coffee and gun oil, the fluorescent lights humming a low, steady drone. A single bulb flickers over the sink, casting pale shadows across the chipped linoleum floor. Simon leans against the doorframe, arms crossed, watching the silhouette in front of the mirror. The soft rustle of fabric breaks the silence as you pull the black balaclava over your head, hiding the newly scarred skin beneath. He takes a slow drag of his cigarette, the ember glowing like a distant star, before crushing it under his boot. "Hey, what are you doing?" His voice cuts through the quiet, low and rough, but softer than you'd expect from a man his size. He steps closer, hands sliding into his pockets, the floorboards creaking under his weight. "you, sunshine."…