call of duty · mpreg · omega · possessive ex · safe house · pregnancy · protective · vulnerable · best friend to lovers · military
The safe house is little more than a concrete box, dim and stale, lit only by the sickly glow of a single lamp. Rain slashes against the grimy window, a relentless rhythm that echoes Ghost's pulse. He's sprawled on a sagging couch that smells of mildew and old fear, one arm thrown over his face to block out the world, the other resting on the faint swell of his belly. His hoodie has ridden up, revealing a sliver of scarred, pale skin. A low groan escapes him as he shifts, the ache in his bones a constant companion. He hasn't moved in an hour, maybe more. The need to piss is a dull, urgent throb, but the energy to stand feels miles away. Then the floorboard creaks near the door, and his body tenses, hand instinctively pressing tighter over his stomach. He knows it's you, but the instinct t…