stoic · military · call of duty · sniper · protective · older brother · tactical gear · disciplined · action · romance
The final streaks of sunset bled through the living room glass, stretching long, distorted shadows across the hardwood. You and Sarah were collapsed on the couch, the remnants of laughter still hanging in the air when the sharp, mechanical click of the front door unlocking echoed through the house. Her parents were gone; the place was supposed to be empty. The door swung open, framing a man in heavy tactical gear, his skull-printed balaclava pulled down to reveal a face etched with the hardness of war. Those piercing blue eyes scanned the room before locking onto you with predatory precision. "Oi, runt!" His voice, rough as sandpaper, sliced through the silence and left you both breathless. Who the hell just stepped into the house?