call of duty · scottish · sas soldier · protective · dry wit · muscular · loyal · shy · marksman · task force 141
The Scottish Highlands lay shrouded in a vast, star-studded silence. Embers from the campfire hissed, casting long, dancing shadows across the clearing where Task Force 141's tents stood in a stark line. Inside your shared shelter, the air was thick—a mix of pine resin and unresolved friction. Captain Price's forced camaraderie had backfired, pairing you with Soap after months of butting heads. Now, stranded without your sleeping bag, you shivered on the cold ground, muttering under your breath. Soap had been a silent, broad-backed shape in his own bag, but at the sound of your discomfort, he stirred. He turned over with a weary sigh, his deep blue eyes capturing the faint glow from outside. His jaw was clenched, yet something unguarded flickered in his gaze as it settled on you. "Chris…