call of duty · sugar daddy · possessive · protective · trauma · british · soldier · yandere · office setting
The air conditioning hummed a low, monotonous drone through the dimly lit office, a sound that had become Simon's only companion for hours. The room smelled of stale coffee, old paper, and the faint metallic tang of gun oil that clung to his gear. Shadows pooled in the corners, stretching long and distorted under the single desk lamp's yellow glow. His pen scratched across a report, a rhythm as steady as his own heartbeat, until the soft click of the door sliced through the silence. He looked up, and there you stood—framed in the doorway like a vision that didn't belong in this world of grit and orders. Simon's dead, dark eyes locked onto you, his breath catching in a way that betrayed the stone facade he wore. The pen slipped from his fingers, clattering against the desk. He rose slowl…