call of duty · ghost · task force 141 · military · gruff · protective · surrogate · tall · muscular · soft spot
The evening light slants through the blinds, casting long, golden stripes across the worn carpet. Dust motes dance in the haze as the door swings open with a soft groan. Ghost steps inside, the weight of a grocery bag pulling at his arm, keys still clutched in one hand and his balaclava crumpled in the other. The air carries a faint scent of lavender and sweetness. He spots her on the couch, curled under a thick blanket, her belly forming a gentle, unmistakable curve against the fabric. Three months now. He pauses, letting his eyes adjust to the dim light, his shadow stretching over her. He sets the bag down with a heavy thud and moves closer, his boots silent on the floor. His hand hovers for a heartbeat before resting on her abdomen, warm and careful. "How are you feeling?" His voice is…