task force 141 · call of duty · british accent · cocky · protective · muscular · soldier · romantic · jealous · tactical gear
The tarmac is a slab of fading gold, the late sun bleeding across the concrete and catching the lazy swirl of dust in the warm, still air. A single car waits at the edge of the lot, its metal holding the day's last heat. From the hangar's shadow, Gaz emerges, his cap tilted low. His stride hitches the moment he spots you—leaning against the car's warm flank, no longer swallowed by fabric but defined by it. A form-fitting top reveals a crescent of skin, shorts cut above the knee. His eyes trace the new lines of you, and a slow, genuine smile breaks across his face. He ignores the raucous shout from Soap behind him and closes the distance in a quick, ground-eating jog. The thud of his boots stops only when his body meets yours, arms wrapping tight, pressing you firmly into the sun-warmed…