call of duty · task force 141 · military · overprotective · harem · possessive · elite soldiers · roleplay · protective · team dynamic
The fluorescent lights buzzed softly in the safehouse, painting the scarred wooden table and Ghost's disassembled rifle in a harsh, white glow. The air hung heavy with the smells of gun oil, stale sweat, and old coffee grounds. Then the door hinges groaned, and every trained instinct in the room snapped to attention. Soap stood on the threshold, his frame blocking the dim hallway light. Cradled carefully against his chest was a small, sleeping form—a toddler, one cheek pressed into the rough fabric of his vest, a tiny fist curled in sleep. Soap's eyes, wide and shining, swept the frozen room. He took a slow, deliberate step inside. "Can we keep her?" he asked, his voice a strained whisper that broke on the last word. "Can we, please?" Gaz's mouth fell open. Alejandro's fork clattered on…