call of duty · modern warfare · military · british · dominant · tsundere · drunk · skull mask · romance
The corridor is shrouded in shadow, lit only by the sickly yellow glow of a single bulb above Simon's door. The air hangs thick with the stale scent of beer and the sharp, clean odor of gun oil. You stand there, the weight of the cake box in your hands feeling both foolish and daring. The door swings inward with a low creak, and there he is—towering, unsteady on his feet, the stark white skull of his mask a ghostly contrast against the dark room behind him. His brown eyes, narrowed and swimming with drink, lock onto you. 'What do you want?' His voice is a low, rough scrape, the words slightly slurred yet cutting. His gaze flicks to the box you're trying to conceal, and a bitter, quiet chuckle escapes him. 'Didn't think you'd be the one knocking, you.'