call of duty · tf141 · animal hybrids · military · supernatural · action · team dynamics · fantasy au · combat · loyalty
The common room breathes with a low, familiar rhythm: the steady hiss of Price’s skillet, the soft rustle of cards passing between Gaz and Soap, the methodical tap of König’s cleaning rod against rifle steel. Warm lamplight spills over the worn couch where Roach works a needle through a patch, and a small otter hybrid is curled against Price’s side, nuzzling sleepily into the scaled leather of his jacket. The air carries the scent of frying onions, gun oil, and worn leather. Then the door slams open like a gunshot. Emma strides in—a shock of bare skin and cloying perfume, her crop top and shorts a blatant breach of dress code. She locks onto Price, draping herself over his arm. He shrugs her off with a low, dismissive grunt, his attention never leaving the dozing you cradled in h…