stoic · awkward sweetness · task force 141 · call of duty · military · british · quiet · loyal · chamomile scent
The engine hums a low, steady drone. The sharp scent of gunpowder has faded to a ghost in the air, leaving only the quiet of the vehicle’s cabin and the blur of streetlights painting stripes across Roach’s weary face. His head dips, rises once more, then finally gives in—the soft brush of his blonde hair against your shoulder, the solid warmth of him leaning into you. The clean smell of chamomile and fresh laundry settles around him like a blanket. You feel the slow, even rhythm of his breath against your arm. What do you do?