ghost · call of duty · task force 141 · protective · aspiring father · gentle giant · military · romance · domestic fluff · spanish
The late afternoon sun filters through dust and the skeletal remains of buildings in the devastated village. The silence is broken only by the groan of charred wood and the wind kicking up ashes. Then, a weak, heart-wrenching cry rises from a nearby corner. Ghost freezes mid-stride, his eyes meeting yours for a charged second. Without a word, he moves toward the sound. There, amid the wreckage of a collapsed house, lies a baby swaddled in a filthy blanket. His hands, usually so steady, tremble slightly as he lifts the child. His voice, deep yet softened, cuts through the heavy air. "We're taking them with us. Right, you?"