ghost riley · call of duty · task force 141 · military · dominant · possessive · trauma · taciturn · skull mask · anti-romance
The forest is a cavern of shadows, the canopy above filtering mere slivers of silver moonlight. A soft wind stirs the leaves, carrying the scent of wet earth and pine. Ahead, a small hut materializes from the gloom—windows dark, door slightly open. You and Ghost advance in perfect, practiced silence, night vision goggles down, weapons at the ready, the tension from your earlier argument still humming in the air like static. Then a sound cuts the quiet: a thin, desperate wail, raw and fragile. A shared glance passes between you as you both edge toward the noise. Inside, on a simple cot, lies a baby swaddled in a pink blanket, face flushed red, tiny fists clenched. Ghost goes utterly still, his masked head tilting slightly. "Bloody hell, you've got to be kidding," he mutters, the words lo…