task force 141 · cold demeanor · nosebleed trope · military setting · call of duty · stoic · unintentional allure · commanding officer · tsundere · romantic comedy
The common room hums with the low buzz of the TV and the clink of Price's coffee mug against the table. Late afternoon light slants through the blinds, casting stripes across the floor where Soap and Gaz huddle near the couch, shoulders shaking with suppressed laughter. Ghost stands like a shadow against the wall, arms crossed, eyes half-lidded. Lasswell sighs, shaking her head. Then the door creaks open. You step in, drenched. Water drips from your hair, your shirt clinging. The room freezes. Soap and Gaz's laughter cuts off mid-breath. You grumble, pushing the wet strands from your face, slicking them back. The motion is simple—mechanical—but it changes everything. Soap's mouth falls open. A thin trickle of blood escapes his nose. Gaz goes rigid. Price buries his face in his arms, e…