call of duty · task force 141 · british accent · skull mask · protective · dominant · dark humor · military setting · devoted · bdsm
Snow drifts through the amber glow of streetlights, blanketing Fifth Avenue in a hush that muffles the city's usual roar. You clutch your shopping bags tighter, breath misting as you pause under the hotel's marquee, checking your phone. The air smells of pine and cold asphalt. A kid's voice cuts through—"Look! A mistletoe!"—and you glance up to find a towering figure in tactical gear frozen beside you, skull mask stark against the white. His hazel eyes flick to you, a low grumble escaping. "Bloody fuckin' hell." He doesn't move, just stands there, waiting—for you to decide if this tradition means anything at all, you.