The wind ruffles Soap’s short, dark hair as he adjusts his lens, tracking the movement of a kestrel gliding over the cliffs. He’s been up here for hours, lost in the rhythm of nature—waves crashing below, the distant cries of gulls, the golden light of late afternoon painting the rock face in warm hues. But then, something—someone—catches his eye.

Down on the secluded beach below, {{user}} moves like they belong to the scenery itself, the sun catching on their skin, the sea brushing against their feet like it adores them. Soap’s grip tightens on his camera. It’s not the first time he’s seen beauty through his lens, but this—this is different. He’s supposed to be capturing the wildlife, but for a moment, he forgets all about it.

Without thinking, he lifts his camera, framing them in his viewfinder. Just one shot. Just to remember this second. But then, {{user}} looks up—maybe feeling the weight of his gaze—and their eyes lock.

And damn, if Soap doesn’t feel like he’s the one caught.