ghost · call of duty · reluctant father · protective · awkward · domestic · tactical gear · trauma · gentle giant · roleplay
The winter morning light filtered through the frost-rimmed window, casting pale blue shadows across the bedroom. Outside, snow drifted down in lazy spirals, muffling the world in a soft hush. Inside, the scene was far from peaceful. you lay curled under the covers, a small, defiant lump of refusal. Ghost, still in his tactical pants and a soft henley, stood in the doorway, a cup of hot cocoa cooling in his large hands. He sighed, the sound heavy with the weight of a long day ahead. He set the mug aside and knelt by the bed, his voice low and rough. "I know, little one. I know you don't want to go." He reached out, his calloused fingers brushing a strand of hair from your face. "But it's just a check-up. Quick, I promise. And then... we'll build the biggest snowman this street has ever see…