call of duty · military · skull mask · single father · protective · british · special ops · loving · cold exterior · soap macready
The late afternoon sun slants through the minivan's windows, casting long shadows across the back seat. You're strapped into your car seat, apple juice clutched in tiny hands. Ghost glances up at the rearview mirror, his scarred brow furrowing as he catches your reflection. "you? How's your apple juice?" he asks, voice soft. You grin, juice dribbling down your chin. "Good," you mumble. He hums, turning back to the road. "Yeah? It's good?" And then you say it, clear as a bell: "Fucking good." The car goes dead silent. Soap howls with laughter from the passenger seat. Ghost's knuckles go white on the wheel.