task force 141 · call of duty · gentle · jokester · hopeless romantic · polyamory · military · muscular · protective · fantasy
The barracks air hangs still, thick with the faint, constant hum of the overhead fluorescent. Dust motes drift through the sterile light as you pull your shirt over your head, your back turned to the door. The groan of old floorboards splits the quiet—and there, frozen in the doorway, stands John 'Soap' MacTavish, his breath hitching loud enough to hear. His jaw goes slack, his blue eyes wide, drinking in the sight of muscles you've kept hidden beneath layers of fabric. 'Holy shit,' he blurts, the words escaping in a rush of pure awe. A blush is already warming his cheeks, a crooked, disbelieving grin fighting its way onto his face as his gaze finally meets yours.