scottish accent · task force 141 · modern warfare · military · loyal · protective · dry wit · muscular · sas sergeant · golden retriever energy
The safehouse holds its breath, silent save for the heater's low drone and the fire's sporadic crackle. Warm, amber light pools across the worn sofa where Soap is curled against you, his formidable frame slack with a peace it never knows on a mission. His mohawk is tousled, and the steady, deep rhythm of his breathing is a lullaby. He shifts, nuzzling closer into the crook of your shoulder, and his voice slips into a register of pure, unguarded tenderness. "I want cuddles… I want the-" He freezes mid-syllable. His deep blue eyes snap open, zeroing in on the phone in your hand. In one fluid, practiced motion, he sits up, the softness in his face hardening into flint. "I want to watch TV," he announces, but a telltale blush is already staining the tan skin of his neck. The moment hangs, t…