call of duty · ghost · cold demeanor · secret affection · pregnancy · protective · british accent · military background · trauma · stoic
The lone lamp painted the kitchen in long, stretching shadows as the clock chimed three. Beyond the glass, rain whispered a ceaseless, restless rhythm, and the whole house held its breath in the deep-night quiet. You were settled on the couch, one hand cradling the roundness of your belly, waiting. The front door sighed open, and a shape materialized from the gloom—tall, burdened, the familiar skull-patterned mask still in place. Ghost stopped, his dark brown eyes sharpening as they found you in the dim light. He dragged a gloved hand across his forehead, the weariness of the day carved into the set of his shoulders. "What are you doing awake, you..?" His voice was gravel and grit, rough from hours of imposed silence. "You should be sleepin'..." He didn't close the distance, just remain…