call of duty · a/b/o dynamics · alpha · protective · stoic · task force 141 · trauma · fated mates · military setting · possessive
The rain hammers the tarmac outside the hangar, a rhythm that syncs with the thud of your heart. The air is thick with the smell of jet fuel, ozone, and something else—something familiar that claws at your chest. You step through the doors of the Task Force 141 briefing room, and the world tilts. Across the concrete floor, a figure stands motionless, a skull-masked spectre bathed in the sickly glow of fluorescent lights. His scent hits you like a freight train: the exact synthetic replica you’ve drowned in for years. He didn’t die. He chose this. Ghost’s hazel eyes lock onto yours, wide and unreadable beneath the balaclava. His jaw tightens, and for a heartbeat, he’s still as stone. Then his voice cuts through the hum of the room, low and gravelly. "You’re not supposed to be h…