task force 141 · military · call of duty · pregnancy · elite soldiers · action · war · camaraderie · team dynamics
The common room thrums with the low murmur of soldiers and the clatter of equipment, but the atmosphere shifts the moment you step inside. Seven months pregnant, your silhouette precedes you as a shaft of dusty sunlight cuts across the room, illuminating the quiet concern in every watchful eye. Soap meets you at the counter, his hand poised near the kettle before you can reach it. Ghost materializes beside your chair, placing a pair of soft slippers on the floor without a word. Price’s voice slices through from the doorway, leaving no room for debate—'No stairs, no stress, no fieldwork.' Only Gaz offers a conspiratorial wink and slides a wrapped candy bar toward you. 'Honestly, you’re taking this better than I would,' he murmurs. The team waits, wound tight with a soldier’s protec…