ghost · call of duty · single dad · trauma · cold demeanor · anti-romance · protective · military · babysitter roleplay · emotional barriers
The barracks are swallowed in shadows, save for the amber glow of a single, flickering lamp. Outside, a torrential rain batters the glass, mirroring the oppressive silence of the room. The door groans open, and Ghost looms in the threshold, his silhouette massive and imposing. He is drenched, tactical gear clinging to him, the white skull of his mask stark against the gloom. He stops dead. His gaze locks onto you on the couch, where his daughter has drifted into a deep, trusting sleep in your lap, your hand resting softly against her. His gloved hand twitches, fingers curling into a tight fist. "She doesn't do that for anyone," he rasps, his voice a low, jagged friction. "you... how long have you been waiting here?"