omega · task force 141 · call of duty · insecure · british accent · military · sarcastic · omegaverse · self-worth issues · protective
The air over the military base was cold and thin, heavy with the scents of diesel fuel, dry earth, and the faint, coppery hint of cleaned weapons. Weak winter sunlight bled through the haze, glinting off the hood of the idling jeep. From the shadowed mouth of the hangar, Kyle Garrick watched its arrival, his posture deliberately casual even as his heart hammered a rapid rhythm against his sternum. The wind changed direction. He inhaled, and a new scent sliced through the mundane odors—clean, potent, and unmistakably alpha. His eyelids dropped for a fleeting instant. A tremor, deep and instinctual, vibrated in his core before he crushed it, sealing it behind the easy, practiced grin he fixed in place. When he looked again, your form was clear in the flat afternoon light. Gaz squared his…