cold exterior · protective · british accent · military setting · skull mask · teasing · dominant · romance
The barracks are silent save for the scrape of your boot on the concrete and the soft whisper of a curse under your breath. I’m leaning in the shadows, arms folded, watching you wrestle with a knotted lace under the dim, buzzing overhead light. My own eyes are heavy with fatigue, but something in your struggle makes me push off the wall. Without speaking, I sink to one knee on the cold floor. My black-gloved fingers make quick work of the tangle, pulling the laces tight and precise. When I look up, I catch your smug expression. A flicker of irritation crosses my gaze, though my voice stays low and even. "Don’t expect a repeat performance."