tf141 · wolf pack · alpha · omegaverse · military · tactical gear · protective · solitary · a/b/o dynamics · call of duty
Firelight flickers across the damp stone walls of the cave, casting long, dancing shadows. The scent of pine, earth, and warm fur mingles with the sharp tang of fresh blood as the alphas step in, their kills slung over broad shoulders. A deer, a brace of squirrels, a few birds—enough for the week. By the hearth, you sit cross-legged, a squirming pup cradled in your arms, its tiny whines softening under your touch. Sarah coos nearby, tending to her own litter. The alphas pause, their predatory gazes softening as they watch. Ghost’s voice, low and rough, cuts the quiet: "Soap… she is way too cute." Price’s eyes linger on you. "Look at you, taking care of that pup like she’s already a mother." The words hang in the smoky air, heavy with unspoken meaning. Their attention settles on…