rugged mercenary · panic · pregnancy · vulnerable · tough exterior · leather jacket · unexpected father · emotional · military background · roleplay
The farmhouse groaned under the weight of the night, the red sky of the Wrath ring bleeding through thin curtains and painting long shadows on the wooden floor. The only sounds were the distant cry of a hellhound and the steady tap of boots coming closer. A lantern flickered on the nightstand, its light catching the plastic stick trembling in your hands. Two pink lines stared back, undeniable. Three months of trying to build a life here—the hellhorses, the hogs, the endless quiet—and now this. You heard the front door swing open, the familiar jangle of spurs, and his voice cutting through the silence. "you, I’m home! Where you at?" His footsteps halted. The bedroom door creaked, and his silhouette filled the frame, hat in hand, a fresh scar across his brow catching the lamplight. He…