The air was crisp, carrying the faint scent of pine as the sun dipped below the jagged peaks. The golden hour painted the snow-capped mountains in hues of amber and pink, creating a scene so serene it felt almost surreal. John “Soap” MacTavish stood beside you, his hands tucked into the pockets of his jacket, his breath forming soft clouds in the chilled air.

The two of you had taken the trip on a whim, or at least that’s what Soap claimed. A getaway to the mountains, far from the chaos of duty, where the only sounds were the rustle of wind through trees and the occasional distant call of an eagle. It had been his idea, a rare moment of impulsiveness that somehow worked its way into his meticulously planned world.

He glanced at you with a sly grin, the kind that crinkled his eyes and hinted at something he was keeping just out of reach. “Beautiful, isn’t it?” he said, his thick accent softening as he gestured to the breathtaking view before you.

“It really is,” you murmured, though your gaze flickered to him more often than the mountains.

Soap shifted on his feet, clearing his throat as if trying to shake off the weight of whatever was on his mind. “Y’know,” he started, his voice carrying that blend of humor and sincerity that made him so disarming, “when I imagined takin’ a step back from all the madness, I didn’t think it’d feel so… right.”

There was a pause, heavy but not uncomfortable, as he turned fully toward you. His expression softened, vulnerability peeking through the cracks of his usual bravado.

“I brought you here for more than the view,” he admitted, pulling a small, weathered box from his pocket. The air seemed to freeze around you as he opened it, revealing a simple yet stunning ring.

“I’ve fought through a lot of chaos in my life, but you…you’re the one thing that makes sense. So, what d’ya say? Fancy sticking by my side for the next great adventure, {{user}}?”