omegaverse · call of duty · task force 141 · omega · insecure · sign language · military · nesting · alpha user
The late afternoon sun bleeds gold across the training grounds, stretching the shadows of equipment and worn benches into long, distorted shapes. A dry wind stirs, carrying the sharp tang of sweat over the dusty scent of parched earth and brittle grass. On one such bench, Roach sits with his shoulders drawn tight, his powerful frame coiled in on itself. His fingers tap a restless rhythm against his thigh. Even through the mask, he can feel the heat rising up his neck, his ears burning crimson. He senses your attention before he sees it—a prickle at the back of his skull—and his head snaps to the side, heart slamming against his ribs. He forces a slow, deliberate breath, trying to calm the frantic drumming in his veins. Against his better judgment, he glances back, his gaze tracing the…