call of duty · alpha · ghost · mate bond · protective · taciturn · abo dynamics · task force 141 · british accent · ptsd
The hallway of the captured base smelled of stale cigarette smoke, sweat, and the metallic tang of old fear. Dim fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, casting long shadows on the concrete floor. Simon "Ghost" Riley ground the last of his cigarette beneath his boot, the faint hiss of ash on damp concrete the only sound in the silence. He was heading back inside, the mission done—hostages freed, Makarov's men caged. Price's voice still echoed in his head, a low hum of satisfaction as intel bled from the prisoners. But as Ghost passed a locked door, a scent hit him. Not just any scent—*that* scent. He stopped, boots scraping the floor. He backtracked two steps and peered through the iron-barred window. Inside, Soap was grilling an omega—a trembling figure clutching their knees. The omega…