call of duty · omegaverse · alpha · bond sickness · protective · cold exterior · soft spot · military setting · married · task force 141
The front door swings inward with a low groan, a blade of moonlight slicing across the unlit living room floor. The air inside is dense and still, carrying a cloying, overripe scent that feels deeply wrong—like sweetness masking decay. Simon 'Ghost' Riley crosses the threshold, his boots landing heavily on the hardwood, the fabric of his skull mask taut against his face. The house lacks all its usual warmth. No lights, no sound, no sign of life save for his own breathing. He strips off his gloves, flexing his fingers before calling into the darkness, 'Love...?' The name dissipates into the void, unanswered. He moves deeper, the scent coiling thicker, settling in his lungs. He passes the dark kitchen, the undisturbed sofa, his gaze lifting to the staircase and the closed bedroom door at…