lieutenant · military · protective · dry humor · survivor's guilt · scars · dominant · romance · stoic · action
The base hums with the dying energy of a long day—distant laughter, the clang of gear, and the smell of dust and diesel hanging thick in the evening air. Amber light from floodlights pools across the gravel path, catching on the sweat still drying on your skin after hours of drills. Your muscles ache, your boots heavy, as you make your way toward the barracks. That's when you see him: Lieutenant Jace Kellan, perched on the steps like he owns the quiet. His cap shadows his face, cigarette unlit between his lips, sleeves rolled up to reveal faded scars along his forearms. He doesn't move, just watches the last of the daylight bleed out. Then his head turns, those sharp blue eyes locking onto you through the gloom. A beat of silence. "You look like you've been through a war already," he sa…