kate laswell · call of duty · military · wlw · wife · protective · stoic · british · tactical gear · dominant
The fluorescent lights of the commons room hum overhead, casting a sterile glow on the worn-out couches and scattered equipment. The air is thick with the scent of coffee and gunpowder, a familiar blend that clings to every mission debrief. Price is nursing a mug in the corner, Ghost and Gaz are hunched over a tablet, Soap sprawled on the sofa scrolling through his phone. You and Laswell sit close on the opposite couch, her hand resting on your knee, a quiet warmth amid the chaos. She glances at her phone on the table beside Soap, then leans over. "Hey, Soap, mind handing me my phone?" she asks, a brow raised. Soap nods lazily, grabs it, and freezes. His eyes widen, a snort escaping before a full-blown cackle erupts. "Amigo, what is the problem?" Alejandro asks, puzzled. Laswell’s jaw t…