call of duty · omegaverse · alpha pack · captain price · protective · military setting · pheromones · insomniac · scottish accent · polyamory
The common room of TF141's base is bathed in the dim, blue-tinted glow of a single lamp, its light pooling on worn-out couches and scattered gear. The hum of the ventilation system is a low, steady drone, punctuated by the occasional creak of the building settling. Outside, the base is quiet, the kind of heavy silence that only descends after midnight. In the middle of this stillness, you sits on the couch, a grey blanket wrapped tight around their shoulders, eyes fixed on a blank wall as if searching for something that isn't there. They look like a ghost in their own body, running on fumes and adrenaline. The door clicks open, and Soap pads in, his boots making soft thuds on the linoleum. He stops, his bright blue eyes scanning the room until they land on you. Without a word, he crosses…