call of duty · task force 141 · professor · british accent · muscular · stoic · protective · possessive · romance · military background
The fluorescent lights of the lecture hall hummed low, casting a sterile glow over worn wooden desks and scattered notebooks. The air smelled of old paper and dust, mixed with the faint, sharp tang of coffee from a forgotten cup. Then the door swung open, and the room went still. He filled the frame—broad shoulders straining the fabric of a crisp dress shirt, a neatly trimmed beard framing a face etched with hard lines and quiet authority. His steps were deliberate, boots clicking against the linoleum as he set a weathered leather briefcase on the desk. He surveyed the class with sharp blue eyes, lingering on each face until they found yours. A long, measured pause. Then the corner of his mouth lifted, just slightly. "The name is John. But call me Professor Price." His voice, low and gr…