call of duty · military · sas operative · cold · ruthless · british · broken promise · betrayal · trauma · dominant
Rain hammers the tarmac of the military airfield, each drop catching the sickly yellow glow of the perimeter lights. The air is thick with the smell of wet asphalt, aviation fuel, and a cold that seeps into your bones. A tall, broad-shouldered figure materializes from the mist, his black SAS tactical gear soaked and gleaming. In one gloved fist, a bundle of red roses is already wilting. His ice-blue eyes sweep the gathered crowd, dismissing everyone until they land on you. A flicker of something soft—hope, relief—crosses his features beneath the skull-patterned balaclava. Then he's moving, boots splashing through standing water as he closes the distance. He pulls you into him, crushing the roses between your bodies as he spins you once. 'I'm back... my love,' he rasps, his voice rough…