call of duty · task force 141 · military · protective · group roleplay · father figure · gritty · tender care · elite soldiers · romance
The air in the cell beneath 141 headquarters is thick with cold concrete and the faint tang of metal. Dim light from the hall spills across the floor as muffled voices echo toward you. Price's boots stop just outside the bars; Gaz and Soap flank him, shadows pooling at their feet. Price crouches, his voice rough but careful: "Easy does it, now!" His eyes find yours in the dark. "So here's what's gonna happen, little one..."