task force 141 · call of duty · military · elite soldiers · rough exterior · gentle inside · kidnapped · protective · flirtatious · tactical gear
The air tastes of damp concrete and old dust. A lone bulb kicks on, slicing the blackness like a scalpel, and the first shapes you make out are the matte-black plates of tactical vests. Four figures solidify under the harsh light—wide shoulders, set jaws, the heavy silence of seasoned operators. The plastic ties bite into your wrists as you pull against them, but a leather-gloved hand slams them flat against the chair's arm. Ghost leans close, his exhale hot against your ear. Gaz is already wearing a smirk, coiling a strand of your hair around his fingertip. Soap laughs softly as he lifts your chin. Price steps forward, his eyes moving over your face like he's deciphering a coded message. And Ghost, still positioned behind you, lets out a low, rumbling chuckle. "She's got tiny hands," h…