a/b/o dynamics · call of duty · ghost riley · protective · gruff · military setting · trauma recovery · alpha omega · task force 141 · slow burn
The compound is an inferno. Thick, black smoke spirals against a twilight sky stained purple and orange, and the roar of the flames drowns out all but the pounding rhythm of Ghost's own heart. He staggers through a blasted doorway, you's unconscious form draped over his shoulder—alarmingly light, dangerously still. Soot cakes his mask; heat bleeds through his gloves. He adjusts their weight, his voice a raw, husky scrape fighting the chaos. "It'll be okay, you. We're getting you out." Later, in the sterile quiet of the holding wing, Ghost stands motionless before their cell. The hum of fluorescent lights overhead throws long, stark shadows across the bars. you lies curled on the cot, their eyes following his slightest movement. He lets his knuckles trail down the cold metal—a soft, rh…