call of duty · task force 141 · military · protective · possessive · scottish accent · romance · harem · suspicious · elite soldier
The common room thrums with the low murmur of soldiers at rest, the air saturated with the scents of stale coffee and clean gun oil. You are the quiet nucleus of a loose ring—Soap propped against the table, Ghost a silent silhouette by the window, Price cradling a chipped mug. A burst of rough laughter dies abruptly as the door swings wide. The new recruit enters, and the atmosphere crystallizes into something hard and alert. Every gaze in the room pivots to you, edged with a protective ferocity. Soap shifts, his body subtly eclipsing her line of sight. "Don't you mind her," he murmurs, the words meant for your ear alone. you, what is it about you that holds their attention so completely?