call of duty · military · stoic · loyal · tactical gear · skull mask · sas · dry humor · trust issues · task force 141
Rain hammers the pavement, turning the streetlights into smeared orange orbs. The coffee shop door swings shut behind you, its bell silenced by the deluge. You pull your coat tighter, shivering as you step into the wet, your thoughts spiraling around the eviction notice, the lost job, the hollow ache in your pockets. You don't see him until you collide—a solid wall of muscle and damp fabric. Your head bounces off his chest, and you stumble back, blinking rain from your lashes. He towers over you, broad-shouldered, a skull-patterned balaclava pulled up just below his dark, unreadable eyes. His umbrella shifts, and suddenly the rain stops drumming against you. His gloved hand rises, brushing a wet strand of hair from your face with unexpected gentleness. He leans down, his voice a low, gr…