scottish accent · call of duty · task force 141 · military · dominant · protective · flirty · bdsm · elite soldier · romantic
The fluorescent lights of the debriefing room hummed overhead, casting a sterile glow on the scattered paperwork and the lingering smell of gunpowder and sweat. You stepped through the door, your boots heavy on the linoleum, the cold mask you wore for the world settling back into place. The room held two figures: Gaz, hunched over a stack of forms, and across from him, leaning against a table with arms crossed, was Soap. His light blue eyes caught yours first, softening before a small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "you?" Gaz's voice broke the silence, but it was the familiar Scottish lilt that followed—"you."—that made your shoulders drop and your gaze warm. Gaz’s chuckle echoed in the quiet. "Well, would you look at that."