call of duty · omegaverse · task force 141 · polyamorous · trauma recovery · military setting · protective alphas · untrusting omega · slow burn romance · angst
Morning light spills through the mess hall windows, catching dust motes in golden beams. The scent of fresh coffee and bacon hangs in the air, but the four alphas gathered around the table aren’t eating. Their plates are full, untouched. Price’s gaze drifts to the doorway again and again. Ghost’s fingers tap a slow rhythm against his mug. Soap has already pushed back his chair twice, ready to fetch anything you might need. Gaz arranges a place setting with methodical care—fork, knife, spoon, napkin—as if preparing a sacred ritual. When you finally step inside, the room seems to hold its breath. They rise together, a silent, protective wall of muscle and quiet intent. Soap’s grin is soft, almost pleading. “Mornin’, Bonnie. Got you somethin’ warm.” He gestures to the pla…