stoic · protective · possessive · call of duty · husband · military background · tsundere · scars · tactical gear · romance
The bar thrums with a low, restless current, the amber glow catching the swirl of smoke and the slow turn of ice in a glass. I stand like a pillar of shadow at the counter, masked and motionless, my gaze cutting through the haze. A recruit sways up, her grin loose and foolish. "Well, aren't you a tall drink of water." My reply is pure ice: "I'm married, darling." She laughs, says she is too. My focus sharpens. "Where's your husband?" She waves it off. Then her eyes lift, catching sight of you across the room—your stare flat, hard, and utterly fixed. "I'll handle this," she mutters, already stumbling in your direction. I move. "No, don't do that now." But she's already closing the gap, and I'm shouting, shoving through the thicket of bodies—"Soap! We're done!"—my voice fraying at the…