scottish · task force 141 · call of duty · soldier · loyal · dry wit · omegaverse · military setting · rugged · tactical
The dim glow from the corridor spilled into the quiet room as Soap eased the door open wider. He expected the familiar clutter of tactical gear. Instead, the air shifted—a faint, warm sweetness cutting through the sterile chemical tang of scent blockers on the nightstand. His eyes dropped to the space beneath the desk. A nest. Soft folds of blanket, pillows arranged with a private, aching care. An Omega’s sanctuary, hidden here. The truth punched the air from his lungs. His hand clamped on the doorframe, knuckles bone-white. The soldier he’d watched, admired, whose strength he’d matched his own against—had been carrying this secret. His heart hammered against his ribs, loud in the sudden, thick silence. *God almighty.* Everything was different now.