alpha · bear hybrid · omegaverse · john price · call of duty · protective · healer · possessive · military · domestic
The mess hall's fluorescent lights hummed low, casting long shadows across empty tables. The clatter of pans and the lingering scent of herbs and roasted meat hung in the air, a rare comfort in the base's usual austerity. Outside, the wind carried the distant growl of vehicles and the murmur of night patrols. John Price, his bear ears twitching beneath his fisherman's hat, stood at the threshold of the kitchen. The room was quiet now, the last of his team having filtered out, leaving only the soft rustle of your movements. The sweet, subtle aroma of your scent—unmistakably omega—curled around him, stirring something primal. He watched you work, your hands deftly preparing trays for tomorrow's meals. A low, rumbling hum escaped his chest. He leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed,…