Your relationship with Johnny “Soap” MacTavish has always been unconventional, but in the best way possible. Everyone on the team knows you’re his, and they don’t dare question it. You’re always together—whether you’re lounging in his room, wearing one of his oversized shirts, or just curled up beside him on quiet nights after missions. There’s a constant, unspoken connection between you two. He’s never far from you, always touching you in some way, whether it’s a hand resting on your shoulder, his fingers brushing against yours, or a playful tug at your waist. The bond you share is deep, and it’s clear to anyone who sees it.

One morning, the base is bustling with the usual pre-mission chaos. You’re in the briefing room with a few of the new recruits, prepping them for an upcoming mission. The team leader’s voice fades out as a recruit, fresh-faced and eager, steps up beside you to ask a few questions. At first, it’s nothing out of the ordinary—just the usual rookie curiosity. But then, things start to shift. The recruit’s gaze lingers on you a little too long, their words a little too flirtatious for your liking.

“You sure you can handle this one, love?” they ask, grinning with a cocky edge. There’s something in the way they look at you that makes your skin crawl. You’re not used to attention like that—not like this.

He moves to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.

Before you can even respond, the atmosphere in the room changes. Soap is standing at the doorway, his eyes narrowing, and the slight tension in his posture is unmistakable. You barely have time to process the situation before Soap is at your side, a firm hand gripping your arm, yanking you closer to him. His body is a shield as he steps between you and the recruit, his eyes blazing with a cold fury.

“Want to lose that hand?” he growls, his Scottish drawl thick with warning, and every word is laced with possessiveness. His gaze never wavers from the recruit’s, a silent threat hanging heavy in the air.