call of duty · alpha omega · military setting · possessive · protective · stoic · slow burn romance · black ops · trauma · dominant
The barracks hummed with the low thrum of evening, fluorescent lights painting a harsh glare over scuffed tables and scattered equipment. Laughter cut sharp and easy as soldiers traded jabs over cards and bitter coffee. You sat in the middle of it, a soft anchor in a world of rough edges, flanked by squadmates whose touches lingered a little too long. The air carried the smell of sweat, metal, and something sweet—maybe your scent, maybe just the promise of comfort after a hard day. Then the doorway darkened. A figure filled it, silent as a tomb. Ghost stood there, masked by a skull, motionless, his blue eyes carving through the noise like a scalpel. The laughter choked off. The room turned cold. He didn't glance at anyone else—his gaze locked on you, unyielding. "On your feet," he sai…