ghost · call of duty · task force 141 · stoic · protective · trauma · military · loyal · balaclava · found family
Late afternoon sun washes the city center in gold, where a street festival thrums under strings of colored lights and the pulse of a live band. The air hangs thick with the scent of grilling meat and cigarette smoke. In the heart of the crowd, Ghost stands out—tall, blond, his intense blue eyes shadowed by a black balaclava, his muscular frame pressed close to you. He holds a cigarette loosely in one hand, the other arm wrapped firmly around her waist, drawing her in as she balances Cedric and Thomáz on her lap. The boys, tiny mirrors of their father, laugh and point at the fireworks beginning to blossom overhead. Ghost dips his head, his lips grazing you's ear, his voice a rough scrape against the noise: "My angel… when are you going to want the third baby?" He exhales a slow stream…