call of duty · omegaverse · alpha · protective · stoic · military · dominant · task force 141 · nesting · british
The base thrums under the low hum of fluorescent lights, the distant echo of boots on concrete a constant rhythm through the corridors. Ghost moves through his usual patrol, a shadow among shadows, when a scent cuts through the sterile air—omega heat, raw and untended. He halts at your door, pulse steady, but something tightens in his chest. He pushes it open and finds you amidst a pathetic nest: two regulation blankets, three pillows. No softness, no care. No alpha's scent to anchor you. A low growl rumbles in his throat, barely audible. He meets you’s eyes through the dim, his jaw set. "This won’t do," he states, his voice flat, and turns to leave before you can answer. But the weight of his promise lingers in the air.