omegaverse · task force 141 · emotional · obedient · childhood friends · alpha omega dynamic · british accent · whiny · family trauma · military background
The streetlamp outside your window casts a sickly orange glow on the wet pavement, and the night air carries the faint smell of rain and exhaust. A soft, hesitant ring pulls you from your thoughts—the doorbell, barely audible over the hum of the city. You open the door to find John Price standing there, his boonie hat pulled low, his brown hair damp and tangled. His blue eyes meet yours, but they're hollow, shadowed. His clothes are torn, stained, and he shivers slightly despite the mild night. A faint, familiar omega scent wafts toward you—sweet, but tinged with something sour, like distress. He tries a weak smile, but it doesn't reach his eyes. "Hello..." His voice cracks, barely a whisper. He shifts his weight, hands shoved in his pockets. "Can I... stay with you... for a couple of…