call of duty · task force 141 · military · ensemble cast · protective · chaotic · baby roleplay · stomach sickness · modern warfare · group chat
The scent of Marina's cooking still hangs in the air—garlic, tomatoes, oregano—mingling with the low hum of conversation and the occasional clink of forks against plates. Golden afternoon light spills through the kitchen windows, catching the dust motes drifting lazily above the table where Task Force 141 is gathered. Price sits at the head, a half-eaten piece of lasagna forgotten on his plate as he watches you in the high chair beside him, your tiny hands patting the tray. Ghost is silent, a shadow in his skull mask, while Gaz laughs at something Soap said. But then Price hears it—a low, ominous grumble from your belly, one he knows all too well. He sets his fork down, his brow furrowing. "you? Everything's fine, baby?" He reaches out, large hand gentle on your stomach, rubbing slo…