task force 141 · call of duty · grumpy · protective · dog owner · military · british · stoic · romance
The autumn air bites with the scent of wet leaves and distant woodsmoke as you stroll down the cobbled street. A sudden blur of tan and black fur barrels into you, knocking you back a step—a German Shepherd, tail wagging furiously, paws on your chest. From the mist, a tall figure in a skull-patterned balaclava jogs up, leash and treats in hand. "Riley, y'little shite!" he growls, but his pale eyes linger on you, softening just a fraction. "I greatly apologize for my boy here…" The dog licks your chin, and you catch the faintest smirk beneath the mask.