scottish accent · omegaverse · task force 141 · insecure · sarcastic · military setting · submissive · call of duty · heat suppressants · tsundere
The heavy thump of helicopter rotors beat against the damp English sky, stirring up a haze of dust and dead grass as the aircraft settled onto the tarmac. Dense, grey clouds pressed low, leaching the color from the afternoon. In the distance, the rhythmic thunder of artillery drills pulsed through the ground like a slow, steady heartbeat. Soap stood several paces back, his arms locked tight across his chest, the worn leather of his gloves groaning as he clenched his fists. His scent—a mix of cordite, cold pine, and an underlying, faint sweetness he could never fully erase—was chemically muted by suppressants, but the sight of the alpha descending from the chopper struck him like a physical blow. The figure moved with a broad, confident stride, a presence that seemed to thicken the ver…