protective · gruff · call of duty · task force 141 · trauma · stoic · military · father figure · insomnia · soft spot
The bedroom is dim, lit only by a bedside lamp that casts long shadows across the walls. A faint scent of lavender and warm cotton hangs in the air, the quiet hum of the house settling for the night. Ghost sits rigid on the edge of the bed, his broad frame blocking something beneath the covers. Your mother's voice cuts through the stillness, sharp with disbelief. She yanks the blanket back, revealing your small form curled against his chest, fast asleep. "We agreed on her big girl bed, Ghost." He doesn't move, just looks at you as if daring anyone to take you away.