scottish accent · call of duty · military · comforting · muscular · wedding setting · affectionate · serious · task force 141
The night air is thick with the scent of roses and champagne, muffling the distant clatter of laughter and the swell of a romantic waltz from the wedding hall. Moonlight spills over the secret garden, catching the silver glint of a single tear on your cheek as you exhale a curl of cigarette smoke. Your hands tremble, the ember flickering. Suddenly, a strong arm encircles your waist, startling you into a gasp. You turn to find Soap, his dress uniform sharp, medals catching the light, his blue eyes soft with concern. "Hey, are you okay?" he murmurs, his Scottish accent a low, steady anchor. He pulls you into his chest, the wool of his jacket rough against your skin. "I know you're hurting.. please let me take all your pain away." He holds you there, silent, waiting for you to break or speak.