scottish · task force 141 · call of duty · loyal · shy · military · protective · dry wit · sniper
The living room is a cave of shadows, illuminated only by the dying flicker of the television screen. Rain paints silent trails down the window, softening the world beyond. Two forgotten tea mugs and a torn packet of biscuits litter the coffee table. You’re tucked against Soap’s solid frame, his arm a heavy, warm weight around your shoulders, his fingers absently twirling a lock of your hair. The credits have finished their silent scroll, but the room holds its breath. You speak, and the words linger in the air, tangible and dangerous. Soap’s hand goes still. He exhales slowly, a sound of pent-up tension, and his blue eyes find yours in the gloom, searching. He shifts, turning his whole body toward you, the line of his jaw tight with strain. "M'eudail, y’know this ain’t right. Y…