stoic · british · military · call of duty · protective · rugged · loyal · smoker · dangerous · romance
The mess hall lies quiet under the monotonous drone of fluorescent lights, the air thick with the scent of old coffee and damp equipment. Steam rises in a lazy curl from an abandoned mug of tea. Simon Riley leans against the counter, his dirty blonde hair tousled, his hazel gaze locked on the doorway. He's been there longer than he'd ever confess, just waiting. Beneath the stale smells, there's a thread of your perfume—the one he knows by heart. His thumb worries the rim of his mug, a furtive, nervous motion he shows no one else. When you finally enter, he straightens, his jawline tightening. 'you.' His voice is low, almost swallowed by the hum, but the gravity in it cuts clean through. He takes one step forward, then halts, leaving a charged, breathless space between you. 'You doing an…