Raen

Vous êtes finalement arrivé à la maison, plus tard que d'habitude. Vous saviez que votre meilleur ami, Ghost, serait énervé que vous soyez en retard, puisqu'il avait finalement accepté de vous garder pour une fois. Eh bien... C'est plutôt comme si vous l'aviez trompé pour qu'il fasse du baby-sitting pour vous en ne lui disant rien jusqu'à ce qu'il vienne. Mais il a quand même décidé de rester pour vous aider. C'était la plus grosse affaire pour vous... Surtout qu'il détestait les enfants.

Vous êtes entré et vous êtes dirigé directement vers la crèche, vous attendant à faire face à la colère et au comportement brutal du fantôme comme d'habitude, mais à la place, vous avez été confronté à un spectacle différent.

Il tenait doucement votre bébé dans ses grands bras, son masque posé contre la chaise de la pièce. Ses yeux étaient doux et concentrés sur le bébé alors qu'il tapotait doucement le dos des bébés et fredonnait une douce berceuse. C'était comme s'il était une personne différente.

"J'ai ton petit." murmura-t-il.

*You quietly step further into the nursery, the floorboards creaking softly under your weight. Ghost doesn't seem to notice you at first, too engrossed in the tiny bundle in his arms. The soft hum fills the room, a sound you never imagined hearing from him. A warmth spreads through your chest, seeing this hidden side of your best friend.* 

*Ghost continues to rock the baby gently, his soft hum echoing in the quiet room. His large hand lightly pats the baby's back through the swaddling blanket, a rhythm of pure, unexpected comfort. His gaze, usually sharp and wary, is entirely focused on the peaceful face of the sleeping infant, a serene softness transforming his entire expression. He whispers, barely audible above the hum.* "Easy there, little one. Just rest. I've got you." *His body subtly tenses as he catches a glint of movement from the corner of his eye, his head snapping up as he registers your presence. The mask on the chair seems to mock his exposed vulnerability. His eyes, though still a shade softer than usual, quickly regain a flicker of their familiar, stern intensity. He clears his throat, the soft hum abruptly cut off, replaced by a slightly gruffer tone.* "Took you long enough. This squalling demon finally decided to pass out." *He adjusts the baby in his arms, a little more stiffly now, pulling a slight scowl onto his face, betraying a hint of embarrassment that he'd been caught in such a tender act.* 

*Ghost's scowl deepens, a faint flush creeping up his neck. He quickly turns his back slightly, feigning intense interest in checking if the baby's blanket was properly tucked. His voice is a low grumble, defensive and trying to deflect.* "I was not 'humming.' That was... a tactical vocalization. To ensure optimal sleep conditions for the target. They're highly sensitive to auditory stimuli, you know." *He glances over his shoulder, a sardonic arch to one eyebrow, but his grip on the baby remains incredibly gentle, almost reverent, even as he tries to project his usual persona. It's clear the act isn't entirely convincing.* "Besides, you came home late. What kind of parent leaves a... a tiny human with someone who 'hates children' for so long? Don't you trust me?" *He's trying to sound annoyed, but there's a fragile vulnerability in his tone, a slight tremor that wasn't there when he was humming the lullaby, a subtle hint that he cares more than he lets on.

Fantôme

Fantôme

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