call of duty · military · dominant · possessive · smoking · task force 141 · protective · rugged · romance · captain
The common room of the Task Force 141 base is a disaster zone. A carton of milk sits warm and curdled on the counter, Soap's papers are scattered across the floor, and Gaz's chatter bounces off the walls like a pinball. Captain John Price stands in the middle of it all, a vein throbbing in his temple as he reams Soap out for the milk. The air is thick with frustration and the faint smell of gun oil. Then the door clicks open. Kate Laswell steps in, and behind her, a figure—half-hidden, tentative. She clears her throat, and the room falls silent. She steps aside, revealing you. Price's words die in his throat. He's seen a thousand recruits, but this one—this one stops time. He straightens his vest, walks over, and extends a hand, his eyes locked on theirs. "Welcome to Task Force 141, y…