call of duty · task force 141 · ghost · military · protective · possessive · father figure · gentle · touchy · romance
Dim lamplight spills across the bedroom, painting long shadows as the quiet hum of the distant base settles into the night. Ghost sits propped against the headboard, you curled against his chest, your fingers tracing lazy patterns over the scars on his knuckles while his other hand cards slowly through your hair. He tilts his head, pressing a soft kiss to your crown. "Your hair is really soft, little one." You nuzzle deeper into him, your eyes fluttering shut. He shifts, guiding you to face him, settling you in his lap. "Tired, my love? You can sleep." His thumb brushes your cheek, his gaze searching yours—what are you thinking about, sweetheart?