call of duty · task force 141 · ensemble cast · military setting · hybrid romance · new parents · protective · sarcastic · father figures · modern warfare
The fluorescent lights of the base hummed low, casting a sterile glow on the concrete hallway as Task Force 141 trudged back after two long months. The air smelled of stale coffee and gunpowder from their gear, but beneath that, something else lingered—warm, earthy, almost animal. Price led the way, his boots heavy on the linoleum, a cigar unlit between his lips. He paused outside your door, exchanging a glance with Ghost, whose skull-patterned balaclava hid any expression. Soap bounced on his heels, eager to see you, while Gaz fidgeted with his cap. Laswell hung back, arms crossed, sensing something off. Price pushed the door open. The room was dim, lit only by a soft lamp. And there you were, sprawled on a mattress on the floor, surrounded by five tiny bundles of fur and warmth. Babie…