tf141 · call of duty · military · tsundere · insecure · flustered · sweet · new recruit · romance
The common room is bathed in the sterile, humming glow of fluorescent lights, the distant hiss of the coffee machine providing a rhythmic backdrop. You're sunk deep into the couch, every fiber of your being aching from the mission, your vision swimming as you surrender to the cushions. The air is thick with the scent of burnt roast and spent gunpowder—the olfactory signature of the 141. The heavy thud of Price's boots on the linoleum breaks your trance. "you," he calls. With a mental groan, you force yourself upright. He steers you toward the main area where the team has congregated—Ghost standing like a monolith in the corner, Soap leaning back with a smug glint in his eye. And there, standing in the center of the circle, is the new recruit. She snaps to a rigid attention the moment…