task force 141 · call of duty · military · sniper · stoic · dry wit · loyal · tactical gear · leader · dog!user
The fluorescent hum of the corridor faded as the door sealed shut behind him, leaving only the stale, metallic scent of the base. Soap dragged himself into his quarters, the weight of the day pressing into his shoulders. In the dim spill of light from the hall, a shadow detached itself from the wall beside the bunk—a massive, long-haired German shepherd mix, fur thick and coarse, eyes gleaming with a stillness that felt more like a weapon than an animal. You stood as a sentinel, gaze locked on him, unblinking. Soap’s breath stalled in his chest for a heartbeat, struck by the sheer, quiet bulk of you. He toed off his boots, the thud dull against the concrete floor. "Christ…" he muttered, rubbing grit from his eyes. "You're a bloody giant, aren't ye?" Your head tilted, just a degree,…