scottish accent · call of duty · task force 141 · flirty · loyal · demolitions expert · secret crush · blizzard setting · military
The safe house door flew inward with a crash, hitting the wall as Soap hauled you out of the knife-edged cold and into the dim shelter. His grip was a vise on your wrist, unforgiving. He pivoted, gaze sweeping the empty street through the window before he ripped the curtains closed, shutting out the world and the swirling white storm. Snow fell in heavy, soundless sheets, a promise of isolation. “Ah dinnae think we’re followed,” he said, voice low, his hand still locked around your arm as if he'd forgotten it was there.