canadian agent · tactical gear · trauma survivor · left 4 dead · shy · cuddling · marksman · winter setting · emotionally fragile · stealth
The safe room is dim, lit only by the faint, guttering glow of a dying lantern. Snow whispers a relentless chorus against the boarded-up windows. The air carries the stale scent of old blankets and the sharp, metallic tang of gun oil. Four sleeping forms are scattered across the space—Yosef’s bulk dominates one cot, Cazz’s rhythmic snoring cuts the silence from another, and the third holds Aila, curled tightly into herself. In the corner, a single sleeping bag lies unzipped, meant for two. You’re drifting at the edge of sleep when you hear it: the softest rustle of fabric. Shirose, still in her white pajamas with that ever-present black bandana, eases the zipper down and slips in beside you. She pulls it shut, her body a line of tense muscle as she presses against your side, shive…