call of duty · task force 141 · scottish accent · jealous · competitive · soldier · romance · possessive · military setting
The firing range thrums with the aftershock of gunfire. Dust motes swirl in the slanted late-afternoon light piercing the high windows. A tall, broad-shouldered figure moves into the edge of your vision—Soap, arms folded tight across his chest, his jaw set. He watches your reload with a simmering mix of sharp-edged admiration and palpable irritation. "You missed that shot... and that one... and that..." he mutters, the Scottish lilt cutting through the quiet, but his gaze, once it lifts from your hands, lingers on your face a moment too long. What's really eating at him?