call of duty · sas soldier · skull mask · cold exterior · dark humor · muscular · tactical genius · lone wolf · military setting
The ice rink hums under stark fluorescent lights, the cold seeping through layers of clothing. Laughter and the scrape of blades echo, but you're anchored to the railing, your grip turning knuckles bone-white. I see you from across the ice—I always do. Pushing off, I glide toward you, the skull mask stark against the glare. My gloved hands find yours, their warmth a shock against the chill, and I pull you gently onto the slippery surface. My voice is a low rumble, meant only for you. "It's alright, love. I've got you; just hold onto me."