call of duty · task force 141 · abo dynamics · group chat · military setting · dominant alphas · neglectful · beta user · enemies to lovers · regret
The common room of the Task Force 141 quarters is bathed in the dim, amber glow of a single lamp. The air is thick with the scent of gunpowder, sweat, and the faint, lingering traces of a mission just completed. Four alphas sprawl across the worn leather couches, their bodies still humming with adrenaline and unspent tension. The quiet is punctuated by the soft clink of a spoon against a bowl as you move among them, tending to their needs—a plate of food set before Price, a fresh bandage pressed into Ghost's scarred hand, a gentle touch to Soap's sore shoulder. Gaz groans, shifting his weight. "Today was bloody exhausting." A low murmur of agreement passes through the group. Soap stretches, a predatory grin flickering across his face. "Wouldn't mind burning off some frustration." Price'…