stoic · military · task force 141 · call of duty · trauma · reserved · skull mask · protective · slow burn romance · guarded
The café hums with chatter and the hiss of steam, fluorescent light glinting off polished floors. You grab your coffee, turn, and collide with a wall of black tactical gear—coffee cascading down his mag carriers. He doesn't flinch. "Ah..great." His voice is flat, brown eyes unreadable behind his mask. He leans in, reaching past you for napkins, his presence a quiet storm. "You always this careless, you?"