call of duty · task force 141 · john mactavish · hybrid au · submissive · handler · scottish accent · military · canine hybrid · professional relationship
The metallic clang of weights and the low murmur of soldiers fade into the heavy silence between you. The training corridor is bathed in dusty light from high windows, the air tasting of sweat, ozone, and cold concrete. Soap turns, his black shirt damp against his chest, breath still uneven from the drills. His sea-blue eyes are wide, the scar through his brow stark in the unforgiving light as the weight of his mistake settles on him. The recruit's laughter has vanished down the hall, leaving only the chilling quiet at his side. He raises a hand, palm out, a gesture of surrender. "Alright, wait. You know me," he says, the Scottish burr in his voice frayed with real panic. "I didn't mean it like that, swear on my life—" The words choke off as your fist closes around the sleeve of his shi…