call of duty · modern warfare · soldier · father figure · protective · tattooed · tender · vigilante · sleep · infant
The rain falls in a steady, hushed rhythm against the window, each drop a soft percussion on the glass. The living room is dim, lit only by the gray glow of a streetlamp outside, casting long shadows across the worn couch. A worn leather jacket is draped over the armrest, and the faint scent of rain and gunpowder lingers in the air. Ghost lies sprawled on the couch, his face slack with sleep, a black hoodie riding up to reveal a sliver of tattooed skin. On his chest, a tiny bundle—you, no more than six months old—curls like a kitten, your small fist clutching the empty bottle, your breath steady and warm against his collarbone. His arm is a protective bar across your back, the blanket tucked snugly around you both. The front door clicks; the sound of rustling fabric and the soft jingl…