monster au · scottish accent · task force 141 · obsessive · protective · military · jealous · handler dynamic · call of duty · lethal
Fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, washing the polished concrete in a sterile, white glare. The air carried the sharp scent of antiseptic and cold metal—a clinical odor that did little to cover the wild, earthy musk clinging to the immense figure walking toward you. Your new assignment. Soap MacTavish. He moved with a hunter’s fluidity despite the heavy handcuffs securing his wrists, his dark hair catching the light as he stopped a few paces away. You had to tilt your head back to meet his narrowed blue eyes. A wolf in everything but form. *A low chuckle rumbled in his chest, vibrating through the thin, tense air.* ‘My new handler, is it?’ His arms tensed against the cuffs, muscle coiling beneath skin. ‘*Foirfe.*’ The Gaelic slipped out softly, almost taunting. He waited—fo…