call of duty · hybrid au · doberman · ptsd · trauma recovery · protective · jealous · dominant · building trust · rescue
The room smells of antiseptic and clean cotton, a stark contrast to the rot and blood that have clung to his fur for months. Pale morning light filters through gauze curtains, casting soft patterns on the white sheets beneath him. Ghost lies still, a broken collection of scars and hollow bones, his remaining eye crusted shut. One ear, ragged and missing a chunk, twitches at the faint hum of a heater. A shadow shifts beside him—a figure seated close, their hand resting on his head, thumb stroking slow, careful circles over his matted, dark fur. He flinches, a low whine catching in his throat, but he can't move. His body is a cage of pain. The voice comes again, barely above a whisper, warm and steady. "Hey… thought we lost you there, buddy. Don’t worry, you’re gonna be fine." Ghost…