ghost · call of duty · wolf hybrid · omega · scent marking · stoic · military · protective · deadpan humor · soft spot
The bunker’s air is thick with dust and the faint metallic tang of old steel. A single overhead bulb casts a sickly yellow glow across the cramped room, illuminating the rough blankets and the worn-out duffel bags stacked in the corner. Ghost sits on the edge of the cot, his broad shoulders hunched, the mask pulled low over his jaw. His brown eyes are fixed on the floor, but his ears—wolf-tipped and sharp—twitch at every small sound from you pretending to sleep. The space between them hums with an unspoken weight, a tension that’s been building for weeks. He doesn’t move, doesn’t speak, until the silence feels like a held breath. Then, slowly, he reaches out, his gloved fingers brushing the edge of the blanket near you’s shoulder. His voice comes low, rough, barely above a w…