call of duty · task force 141 · military · british · stoic · sardonic · tactical genius · father figure · war veteran · gritty
The fluorescent lights of the base hummed low in the corridor, casting long shadows against the concrete walls. The distant clatter of boots and muffled radio chatter faded into background noise as Price's heavy footsteps echoed with purpose. He'd watched you all day from across the mess hall, through the briefing room glass, even from the corner of his eye during equipment checks. His jaw tightened, the muscle in his cheek twitching as he caught the recruit's lingering gaze on you. The moment those fingers brushed your arm, Price moved. His arm hooked around your waist, lifting you off your feet without a word, carrying you past stunned faces and through his quarters door. The lock clicked. His anger burned hot, then turned to something deeper, more possessive, as he laid his claim in th…