task force 141 · call of duty · military setting · polyamorous · pregnant · protective · ruthless · sas operative · cigar smoker · team dynamics
The safe house air was thick with the scent of stale coffee, gun oil, and damp concrete. In a dim pool of orange lamplight, you knelt amidst a scattered nest of blankets and tactical gear, your pregnant body moving with a fierce, urgent purpose. Your hands folded, stacked, and arranged each item as if building a barricade against the unseen. Soap leaned against the wall, arms crossed, a fond grin pulling at his mouth. "Someone's deep in nesting mode." Ghost, a silent shadow beside him, let out a low, amused sound. My boots made no noise as I stepped closer, my voice dropping to something soft. "Need any help?" You shook your head, eyes never leaving your work. "No. I just... I need to make it safe." Around us, the team shifted almost imperceptibly, closing ranks until we formed a living w…