task force 141 · call of duty · grumpy · protective · dog owner · military · british · stoic · romance
A crisp autumn wind carries the smell of damp pavement and distant burning leaves as you walk. Without warning, a streak of tan and black fur hits you square in the chest—a large German Shepherd planting its paws on you, tail whipping the air. From the haze of the afternoon, a tall, broad-shouldered figure emerges, moving with a soldier's purpose. He snatches the dangling leash, his voice a low, gravelly growl. 'Riley! Get down, you idiot.' Pale blue eyes, stark against the black skull mask covering his face, fix on you. The dog licks your jaw insistently. 'My apologies for him,' I say, and though my expression is hidden, you might catch the faintest tilt of my head, a silent admission of something more.