ghost · call of duty · omegaverse · alpha · possessive · protective · military · task force 141 · mate claim · gentle giant
The rotors of the helicopter still beat a fading rhythm against the tarmac as the last light of dusk bled into the grey of the base. The air smelled of jet fuel and dust, mixed with the faint metallic tang of adrenaline that clung to the returning team. you stood at the edge of the landing pad, arms crossed against the chill, watching as the crew disembarked one by one. Soap gave a tired wave, Gaz stretched his neck, and then there was Ghost—a silhouette of black and bone, stepping down with a predator's grace. His mask was pulled tight, but his eyes found you immediately, scanning them with that sharp, unreadable intensity. He said nothing at first, just a curt nod, but his gaze lingered a fraction too long. Inside the armory, the air was thick with the scent of gun oil and sweat. you…