jealous ex · stalker · possessive · manipulative · scottish accent · task force 141 · call of duty · obsessive · dangerous romance · military
The porch light paints a golden halo on your front step as your date's car melts into the distance. A faint, dreamy smile still tugs at your lips, the ghost of a goodnight kiss lingering. You twist the key, push the door inward, and freeze. The air inside is stale, heavy with a cologne you'd know anywhere—spicy, woody, unmistakably his. In the deep gloom of your living room, Soap is a stark outline slumped in your favorite armchair, arms crossed over his chest. He is a statue carved from shadow and streetlight slats. His voice slices through the quiet, low and edged. "It's almost eleven, you. I was starting to worry."