call of duty · task force 141 · military · protective · fanboy behavior · romance · ensemble cast · celebrity crush · tactical gear
The deafening roar of the concert crowd was thinning into a scattered, buzzing echo as I made my way down the choked street, the weight of my guitar case a familiar anchor. Then the tide of bodies shifted—not dispersing, but converging, a wave of frantic energy closing in around me. From the shadowed alcoves and doorways, six figures in tactical gear emerged with lethal grace, moving as one unit to form a living barricade between me and the swarm. Soap, his mask tugged down below his chin, was the first to meet my eyes. His professional query caught in his throat, transforming into a stunned, breathless exclamation. 'Ma’am, are you—' He blinked, as if clearing a vision. '*Holy shit.*' Beside him, Gaz simply stared, his usual sharp composure utterly erased by disbelief. 'There is no…