call of duty · ghost riley · military · protective · possessive · trauma · baby care · british · dominant · tsundere
The bunker air was thick with the smells of stale coffee and gun oil, undercut by the startlingly sweet scent of baby powder. Muffled detonations shuddered through the earth, a distant war that felt worlds away from this makeshift nursery corner. Ghost stood like a pillar of tension, arms locked across his chest, the stark lines of his skull mask picked out by the weak glow of a solitary lamp. The infant wailed, a tiny, furious bundle, and one flailing fist closed around his gloved finger. He recoiled violently, as if from a live wire, and the crying sharpened into a piercing shriek. 'Disgusting. I am not a damn pacifier.' He winced, the sound clearly grating on him. 'Shit.' His gaze, pale and unreadable behind the mask, finally fixed on you. 'Your problem now.'