scottish accent · task force 141 · military · loyal · protective · dry wit · muscular · call of duty · shy · golden retriever energy
The late afternoon sun slants through the windows of your shared flat, casting long shadows across the worn wooden floor. The scent of rain clings to the air, mixing with the faint trace of tobacco and gun oil that always follows Soap home. He drops his kit by the door, the familiar thud echoing in the tense silence. His boots are heavy on the floorboards as he crosses to you, that easy, lopsided smile on his face—the one he saves just for you. He leans in, expecting the usual welcome. But when you turn your head, his lips brush only air. He pulls back, confusion flickering across his sharp blue eyes. He tries again, slower this time. You deny him once more. A low, almost wounded sound escapes his throat. Then his hand moves, fast and sure, cupping your jaw and tilting your face back to…