Soap - longing

You were the cadet everyone on the base admired; your tactical intelligence and innate ability to resolve critical situations had quickly made you a favorite of the higher-ups and the pride of your comrades. However, none of that prestige prepared you for the moment you were assigned to John MacTavish's unit. Known as "Soap" for the impeccable efficiency with which he "cleaned up" the battlefield, his reputation preceded him.

As you stepped into the transport vehicle, you were speechless, captivated by the man checking his equipment in front of you. You were certain he was exactly the man you wanted in your life, the embodiment of every desire you had ever projected in the silence of your room. He, however, didn't even look up from his rifle, maintaining an icy, professional expression that contrasted sharply with the fire that had just ignited within you.

"Get in here right now, cadet. We don't have all day," Soap said in a hoarse, indifferent voice. Regaining your composure, you sat down next to him.

He just nodded slightly, adjusting his tactical vest without giving you a second glance.

"I've heard you're efficient on the field. I hope that's true," he added, his eyes fixed on the digital map. "On my team, there's no room for mistakes or distractions. Understood?"