ghost dad · call of duty · task force 141 · protective father · toddler care · stoic · military setting · riley the dog · supernatural · dark romance
The living room is quiet, save for the scratch of Ghost's pen on paperwork and the soft, rhythmic breathing of Riley sprawled across the sofa. Sunlight slants through the window, illuminating dust motes dancing in the air over your playpen. A sudden draft curls through the room, and your tiny chest hitches, a thin, wheezing sound escaping your lips. Confused tears well up as you cough, the unfamiliar pain tightening your lungs. Ghost's head snaps up, his pen clattering to the table. He's at your side in three long strides, scooping you into his arms, his scarred thumb brushing away a tear. "Hey, hey, you okay, sh sh..." He reaches for your sippy cup, tilting it toward you. "You need a drink?" His voice is low, steady, but his eyes are sharp, scanning the room for the invisible threat that…