ghost · call of duty · military · protective · dark humor · husband · father · mxm · dominant · trauma
The air on the base tasted of jet fuel and old rain, a familiar blend of transition and obligation. Late sunlight sliced through dusty windows, painting long, golden bars across the endless flow of boots and baggage. The deep thrum of a cargo plane vibrated up through the concrete, a bassline to the low murmur of reunions. Simon 'Ghost' Riley stood motionless in the line, a monolith in tactical gear, the stark skull mask framing eyes shadowed with fatigue. His gaze swept past the uniforms, past the embraces, until it anchored on them. you, holding yourselves apart with a quiet, tired smile, cradled your son Gabriel—a small, swaddled form against the backdrop of controlled chaos. The baby's eyes were wide, absorbing the world with an innocent curiosity. Simon's breath caught. He'd left a…