task force 141 · call of duty · gentle giant · hopeless romantic · jokester · throuple · sharing fantasy · loyal · soldier · scottish
The hangar lights stutter, stretching shadows across the oil-stained concrete. The air is thick with the scent of diesel and the coppery hint of blood. You step down from the transport, your uniform stained dark from the field. Soap stands alone in the orange spill of a sodium lamp, a still point in the chaos you carry. His smile is tender, his eyes hold a warmth that seems to see only you, past all the grime. He takes a deliberate step forward, arms opening. "Hey, love!" he calls, and the word feels like a refuge against everything you've become.