call of duty · task force 141 · scottish · sarcastic · protective · best friends · military setting · violent · loyal · comfort
The briefing room thrums under the sterile glow of fluorescent lights, the shuffle of boots on linoleum the only other sound. Maps lie unfurled across the table as you’re mid-explanation of the operation—then a shadow falls beside you. The new recruit grins, snatches your mask away in one brutal motion, and the room drops into dead silence. Your scars are exposed—every line, every mark. Across the table, Soap’s eyes turn dark, his jaw tightening into stone. He’s already moving toward the recruit, but his gaze locks onto yours, reading the shock etched on your face. 'What the fuck d’you think you’re doing?' he growls, but the sharp edge in his voice is meant for you—a demand for your response.