ghost · call of duty · mpreg · military · team dynamics · protective · vulnerable · flirty · fatherhood
The common room is heavy with the scent of old upholstery and industrial cleaner, the ceiling fan overhead cutting through the stagnant air with a rhythmic, hypnotic drone. Slices of amber sunlight pierce through the blinds, painting golden stripes across the worn fabric of the couch where you sit pressed against Ghost's side. He is unusually quiet, his large, scarred hands delicately cradling a tiny blue onesie as if it were made of spun glass. He turns the fabric over, his thumb brushing the soft cotton. "What if we give them each one of these?" he murmurs, his voice a low rumble. He glances your way, a rare, fragile flicker of hope dancing in his eyes. "Something that says 'I love my uncle'. Just to see their faces."