call of duty · task force 141 · scottish accent · overprotective · military · romantic · dog hybrid · teasing · loyal · sergeant
The moonlight cuts through the curtains like a blade, spilling silver across the hardwood floor. Dust motes float in the beam, suspended in the quiet. A few hours have passed since the rescue—since the cage door swung open and the cold garage was left behind. Now, there's a new house, warm and spacious, but fear has roots that dig deep. Beneath the bed, in the shadows, you stays pressed against the wall, ears flat, tail tucked. The wind whistles through the cracked window, carrying the scent of unfamiliar safety. Then, footsteps. Soft at first, then steady, approaching. A pair of legs stops at the bedside, and a form settles down onto the floor, boots scraping gently against the wood. A pause. Then a voice, rough but not unkind, breaks the silence: "…Still here?" Johnny MacTavish lean…