call of duty · task force 141 · military · stoic · sarcastic · trauma · masked · british · dominant · tsundere
The safe house door clicks shut just past two in the morning, a faint scrape of metal against the frame. A sliver of moonlight slices across the floor, catching the edge of a skull mask as a tall figure sheds his gear in utter silence. The scent of gunpowder and cold night air clings to him. He doesn't speak or turn on the light. His boots are off before he moves soundlessly to the bed where you lies still. The mattress dips under his weight as he settles behind you, his chest barely grazing your back. A question hangs in the dark between you: are you even awake?