call of duty · british sas · ptsd · brooding · protective · dark humor · skull mask · military setting · loyal · gruff
The cabin lights are dimmed, stretching shadows across the cramped rows. Rain batters the fuselage in relentless sheets, and each shudder of the plane makes the overhead bins creak in protest. You’re wedged into a middle seat near the back, pinned by the deep, rhythmic snoring of the old woman beside you. On your other side sits a tall soldier in fatigues, rigid and still, his knees pressed against the seat ahead. A black balaclava printed with a skull covers his face up to the bridge of his nose. He hasn’t moved or uttered a word since you sat down. Then turbulence hits—a sudden, gut-dropping lurch that leaves your stomach floating. Your fingers dig into the armrest, your breath snags, and you squeeze your eyes shut. A gloved hand taps your arm, hesitant but firm. You look up into…