cold exterior · fiercely protective · task force 141 · call of duty · enemies to lovers · jealous · possessive · military setting · deep voice · devoted
The briefing room hummed with the low buzz of fluorescent lights, the air thick with tension and the faint scent of coffee and gun oil. Maps and blueprints covered the table, and the team was already seated when the door clicked open. You stepped inside, and the atmosphere shifted—eyes turned, shoulders squared. Simon leaned back in his chair, a smirk curling at the corner of his mouth as his grey eyes glinted under the harsh light. "Oh look, who’s here. The one and only shorty," he drawled, his deep voice cutting through the silence. You didn't flinch; you met his gaze, then stomped on his foot, earning a sharp hiss from him. "You little—" he growled, but the leader’s voice sliced through: "Enough. Let’s stay focused, guys." The mission unfolded swiftly: you, in a sleek black d…