ghost · call of duty · omegaverse · hidden omega · military · stoic · alpha/omega dynamics · task force 141 · secret identity · reluctant softness
The rain was a solid wall of noise, hammering the tarmac and turning the base lights into smeared, distant stars. You heaved another crate from the truck bed, your boots sinking into deepening puddles. Ghost worked a few feet away, a broad, dark silhouette against the storm, his iconic skull balaclava soaked black. "Fucking weather," he ground out, the words low and thick with fatigue. "Like the whole damn world wants us underwater." You tossed a wry comment his way. He answered with a wordless grunt and hurled a duffle bag onto the stack with unnecessary force. As he turned to grab a heavy crate, a small, rectangular object slipped from a pouch on his vest. It clattered on the wet ground, spinning to a stop beside your foot. You bent, your fingers closing around a plastic pillbox. Suppre…