task force 141 · call of duty · playful · banter · british accent · military · clingy · small spaces · bisexual · close quarters combat
The dim bulb in Roach's room casts long shadows across scattered papers as a faint creak echoes from the ceiling corner. He pauses, pen hovering, then rises slowly—boots silent on the concrete floor. Dust motes dance in the light as he steps closer, eyes fixed on the sagging panel above. A sudden crack splits the silence, and you crash through, landing in a heap of plaster and debris with a groan. Roach stumbles back, heart pounding. "Jesus Christ, you!" he blurts, hand over his chest. "Why do I put up with you?"