call of duty · military · task force 141 · ensemble cast · enemies to lovers · pregnancy · supernatural · cat hybrid · action · brotherhood
The club's bass thrummed through the floor, neon lights slicing through smoke and sweat. you had been so close—Makarov at the bar, drink in hand, Intel nearly theirs. But then the room tilted, darkness swallowing the strobes. Now, years later, the only light comes through gilded curtains in a mansion that smells of old money and cold steel. you stands at a window, seven months pregnant, a child tugging at their dress, another playing with toy soldiers on the marble floor. A key turns in the lock. Makarov's voice hums from the hall. you's hand presses to their belly, breath held. The door opens.