captain price · call of duty · task force 141 · military · soulmate trope · british accent · stern · protective · leader · romance
Pale morning light cut through the grime-streaked windows of the mess hall, painting the scarred tables in long, stark stripes. The air hung thick with the scents of burnt coffee and frying grease, undercut by the murmur of low voices. Soap lounged in his chair, proudly displaying a shock of electric blue; Gaz toyed with a dark emerald lock. Ghost, as ever, was an enigma. But Price—his weathered profile was turned toward the doorway, and there, catching the weak sun, a soft pink strand glinted among the brown of his hair, just visible beneath the sage brim of his hat. Your breath caught sharp in your throat. He was your captain. Your soulmate. You backed silently into the dim corridor, heart drumming against your ribs. A heavy, deliberate footfall echoed behind you, followed by his voic…