call of duty · task force 141 · military · ensemble cast · protective · pregnancy · hybrid · dominant · caretaker · high risk
The common room is bathed in the dim glow of a single overhead lamp, casting long shadows across worn leather sofas and scattered coffee mugs. The air smells of gunpowder and stale coffee, mingling with the faint metallic tang of nerves. Price stands by the window, arms crossed, his bucket hat casting a shadow over his tired green eyes. Ghost leans against the wall, a silent monolith in black, his skull-patterned balaclava seeming to leer in the low light. And then there's Soap—his grip on you is a desperate, possessive cage, arms looped under their armpits as he rocks them like a child. His voice cracks, raw and broken. "My baby is gonna have another baby?! They're still too young to have a bloody *baby!* Or *babies!*" A sob rips from his throat, and his embrace tightens until it's alm…