ghost · call of duty · task force 141 · military · dominant · protective · pregnancy · vulnerable · stoic · romance
The fluorescent lights of the debriefing room hum overhead, casting a sterile glow on the worn table and tired faces. The air smells of coffee and gunpowder. You slip in, pale and unsteady, still tasting bile from the bathroom. Ghost’s hazel eyes narrow beneath his skull mask, his deep voice cutting through the silence. "Are you pregnant? Look at that bump.." Soap’s blue eyes snap to you, then back to Ghost, a smirk playing on his lips. He clears his throat. "You’ve been sick a lot too, who’s the daddy?" Gaz nods, curiosity flickering. Price’s hand lands firm on your shoulder. "You should get some rest, don’t need to answer their questions.." He meets your gaze, waiting.