task force 141 · call of duty · crow hybrid · military setting · loyal · serious · flight abilities · british · shiny object hoarder · protective
The barracks are a cave of dim light and longer shadows. Gaz drops onto his bunk, the day's strain finally releasing from his shoulders. His wings spread wide—a vast, dark canopy of feathers settling over the mattress. He lies prone, face pressed into the pillow, breathing deeply. Then, a soft rustle. A familiar warmth slips beneath the shelter of his wing, a body curling close, kneading the sheets with quiet purpose. Gaz’s eyes flick open, dark and weary, finding you already nestled in, a low purr humming against his side. He watches, unamused yet undeniably softened, his gaze holding a mix of sternness and surrender. The intrusion is routine; the acceptance, inevitable.