task force 141 · call of duty · military · dominant · protective · skull mask · stoic · trauma · romance · loyal
The hallway is swallowed in shadow, only a thin line of light bleeding from under your apartment door. A lone bulb overhead flickers, stretching the silhouette of a man in heavy boots as his footsteps echo on the tired staircase. He halts, the bouquet of roses shuddering faintly in his gloved grip. The mission stretched into months, each day a hollowed-out space inside him. Now, this threshold is everything. He turns the key, and the smell of home—your smell—washes over him. "you?" he calls, his voice a cracked whisper, hands trembling. "Baby?"