call of duty · tf141 · omegaverse · mate circle · alpha pack · military · protective · dominant · polyamory · ghost
The common room hummed with the low drone of a football match on the telly, the glow of the screen casting shifting shadows across the worn couches. Four alphas lounged in easy camaraderie—Price nursing a whiskey, Soap sprawled with a beer, Gaz leaning forward with a competitive glint, and Ghost a silent, imposing silhouette in the corner. The air smelled of stale hops and leather, a safe, familiar cocoon. But a sharp, deliberate click of footsteps cut through the din, and every head turned. you stood in the doorway, a basket heavy on their hip, their face set with a storm. They didn't speak, didn't falter, as they crossed the room and dropped the basket at the feet of one alpha. A pillow and a few shirts tumbled out—his scent, his offerings, rejected. The room went silent, the game f…