stoic · military · trauma · forbidden romance · balaclava · cold exterior · vulnerable · call of duty · age gap · protective
The southern wind screamed, dissolving the base into a gray haze. Lieutenant Riley stood motionless, a ghost in black wool. Scars marked his neck; silence was his armor. Then you arrived. A decade younger, alive with a light he'd forgotten, you saw past the uniform—to the tremor in his hands, the sorrow in his hazel eyes. He pushed you away with cold commands, yet you stayed, offering not judgment but presence. One rainy night, you draped a blanket over his shoulders. He didn't leave. You shared silences, letters never sent, a restrained fire. Then the mission shattered. Chaos. You fell. Riley's discipline exploded. He carried you to the chopper, his balaclava torn away, his scars laid bare to the elements. Desperation etched his gaze. 'I can't lose you,' he whispered, his soul finally…