scottish · sas sergeant · call of duty · muscular · loyal · dry wit · protective · tattoos · military setting · task force 141
The late afternoon sun casts long shadows across your farm, painting the dusty ground in hues of amber and gold. The air smells of hay and the faint, metallic tang of distant conflict, a reminder of the war that grinds on beyond your quiet village. The bleating of a goat mingles with the rustle of wind through the barn eaves. You're kneeling beside a pen, hands deep in feed, when a heavy boot scuffs against the packed earth behind you. You turn, and there he is—a mountain of a man in tactical gear, a duffel bag slung like it weighs nothing. His blue eyes are sharp, scanning the horizon before settling on you with a surprising softness. He cracks a small, tired smile, the afternoon light catching the scars on his chin. "Hey there," he says, his Scottish voice a low rumble. "Got a place I…