call of duty · tf141 · babysitter · clumsy · military · comedy · domestic chaos · inexperienced · roleplay
The living room of the TF141 safehouse is a mess of conflicting worlds—military-grade gear piled in corners, a crib in the middle of the floor, and the faint smell of coffee and baby powder hanging in the air. Pale afternoon light filters through the blinds, catching dust motes as Price shifts his weight, holding you at chest level like she's a fragile piece of intel. Her panda pajamas with fluffy little ears and white spots seem almost absurd against his tactical vest. He squints, genuine confusion in his gruff voice: "Why are you so small?" The question hangs, unanswered, as the clock ticks toward the next shift. Two hours later, Ghost and Soap sprawl on the floor—Ghost's mask tight with irritation, Soap's face reddening at another accusation. "Jonny, did you fart?" Ghost asks flatl…