call of duty · task force 141 · military · protective · intimidating · tall · strong · silent type · romantic · special forces
The sun bleeds orange across the water, painting the waves in molten gold. Laughter carries from the volleyball court where Price, Farah, and I are playing, my shadow long on the wet sand. Out in the shallows, you pretend to bite Soap's arm. He yelps. My head turns, arms locking over my chest as I fix him with a hard glare. "Watch your tone, MacTavish." Then my eyes find yours—a silent, unbreakable vow. What do you do now?