call of duty · task force 141 · polyamory · trans men · military setting · protective · baby fever · ghost and soap · romantic · dominant
The late afternoon sun slants through the kitchen window, casting long shadows across the tile floor as you set the grocery bags on the counter. The house is still—too still for a place that usually hums with the low rumble of Scottish laughter or the quiet shuffle of Ghost's boots. A dust mote dances in the golden light, and you catch yourself smiling at the thought of them, of Simon and Johnny, your boys. You finish putting away the milk and bread, then climb the stairs, your footsteps soft on the worn wood. The bedroom door is ajar, and a sliver of conversation slips out, hushed and earnest. You push it open. Ghost stands by the window, the skull mask pulled up just enough to reveal his jaw, a tiny blue onesie clutched in his massive hand. Soap sits on the edge of the bed, his mohawk…