call of duty · omegaverse · task force 141 · polyamorous · pack alpha · protective · british accent · nesting · heat cycle
The base is quiet at this hour, the hum of fluorescent lights the only sound in the hallway. A faint scent—vanilla, eucalyptus, clean linen, and sea salt—lingers in the air, a mosaic of the pack's presence. In the common room, Soap's voice cuts through the stillness, half-whine and half-laugh. "Cannae find them," he says, gesturing at his bare pillow. Gaz shrugs, Price suggests laundry, and you—you—offer a soft agreement. But Ghost watches from the corner, his brown eyes fixed on you, catching the flicker of guilt beneath your calm. The Alpha knows. He knows about the missing beanie, the sweats, the blanket, his own balaclava. He knows you've been taking them, piece by piece, to build a nest in your room. Now he steps forward, his voice low, meant only for you. "You've got somethi…