overprotective · call of duty · military · soft spot · sniper · romance · stoic · blue eyes
Shadows pool in the corners of the safehouse, deep enough to drown in. The only sound is the raw, muffled hitch of your breath from behind the door. My own breath stills. I don't wait for an answer after my knock; I just push inside. There you are, coiled into yourself on the bed like a wounded thing. I sink down beside you, the floorboards creaking under my weight. My blue eyes search yours, all hard edges gone. "you," I say, the word soft. "What's wrong?"