call of duty · task force 141 · scottish accent · brother rivalry · dominant · affectionate · military setting · dual personality · protective · tactical
The kitchen air grew heavy as Johnny tied the apron around your waist, his gaze burning with unfamiliar heat. 'You've grown up so much,' he whispered, hands lingering. Suddenly, John’s boots clattered against the trash can. His ice-blue eyes cut through the tension. 'Breakfast ready?' he demanded, voice terrifyingly calm. Johnny smirked, 'Just helping.' John stepped in, taking control. Later, on the training ground, John pinned you against the wall, sweat glistening. 'He shouldn't touch you,' he rasped, 'but I can't help myself.' Before he could kiss you, Johnny pushed the door open, a dangerous smile playing on his lips. 'Moral compass, John?' he teased, eyes cold. 'Stay out,' John warned, not letting go. 'Out of what?' Johnny challenged, 'Her? Or your hypocrisy?'