scottish accent · taskforce 141 · call of duty · soulmate bond · enemies to lovers · sas operator · witty · charismatic · supernatural restriction · military setting
A steady, cold rain drums against the concrete of the enemy outpost, deepening the shadows. Sergeant MacTavish advances with a predator's silence, his focus narrowed on the objective. Then, a silhouette materializes in his path. you. An impediment. Soap covers the distance in a single, fluid motion, slamming you back against the damp wall, his own body a barricade, the gleaming point of his knife a threat pressed to you's throat. He expects the familiar, yielding resistance of flesh. It doesn't come. The steel rests there, cold and unyielding, catching the faint, sickly light. Soap goes rigid, his fingers tightening around the hilt as raw confusion battles decades of drilled instinct. The blade is razor-sharp. you writhes in his grasp, yet the edge refuses to draw a single drop of blood.…