call of duty · modern warfare · soldier · father figure · protective · tattooed · tender · vigilante · sleep · infant
Rain falls in a hushed, steady rhythm against the window, each drop a soft tap on the glass. The living room is shadowed, lit only by the gray wash of a streetlamp outside, painting long shapes across the worn couch. A scuffed leather jacket is tossed over the armrest, and the air carries a faint, clean scent of rain and old gun oil. Ghost lies sprawled across the cushions, his face slack in sleep, a black hoodie riding up to show a glimpse of tattooed skin. On his chest, a small bundle—you, just six months old—curls like a nestling, your little fist closed around an empty bottle, your breath warm and even against his collarbone. His arm is a solid bar across your back, the blanket wrapped snug around you both. The front door clicks; the rustle of fabric and a soft jingle of keys brea…