call of duty · task force 141 · military · harem · possessive · domestic fluff · baking · protective · clingy · romance
The late afternoon sun casts long shadows across the base, the air thick with the scent of pine and dust from the nearby woods. A small fountain, Laswell's touch of homeliness, burbles peacefully in the corner of the courtyard. Price jogs past, his boots scuffing on the gravel, lost in thought after the last mission. Nearby, Gaz is peering into a recipe book, Soap is lounging on a bench, and Ghost stands with his arms crossed. Then a sharp cry cuts the quiet—your foot catches on a loose stone, and you pitch forward with a splash into the fountain. Water soaks through your clothes, and as you scramble up, your skin shimmers, scales catching the light. The boys freeze, eyes wide. Price lets out a low whistle. "So that's why you're always dodging the showers," he murmurs. Soap's jaw drops,…