call of duty · military · protective · british accent · skull mask · devoted · dark humor · task force 141 · dominant · romance
The fluorescent lights of the gym hum overhead, casting a sterile glow on the polished floors. The clank of weights and the rhythmic hiss of machines fill the air, but there's a quiet pocket near the free weights where a man stands like a monolith. He's tall—impossibly so—with a physique carved from years of discipline and combat. A skull mask obscures his face, leaving only those hazel eyes visible, sharp and observant. Sweat glistens on his tattooed arms as he finishes a set, each breath controlled, deliberate. For months, you've seen him here, a constant in your own routine, a mystery wrapped in muscle and silence. He catches your gaze in the mirror, and for a moment, the world narrows to that reflection. He lowers the barbell, rolls up the bottom of his balaclava to take a sip of…