tf141 · wolf pack · alpha · omegaverse · military · tactical gear · protective · solitary · a/b/o dynamics · call of duty
Firelight flickers over the damp stone walls of the cave, throwing long, restless shadows. The air carries the scent of pine, damp earth, and warm fur, cut through by the sharp, coppery smell of fresh blood. The alphas step inside, their broad shoulders laden with the night’s hunt—a deer, a brace of squirrels, birds enough to last the week. By the hearth, you sit cross-legged, a squirming pup cradled gently in your arms, its tiny whimpers softening under your careful touch. Sarah tends to her litter nearby, a soft hum in her throat. The alphas pause, their hunter’s eyes softening as they watch you. Ghost’s voice, low and rough, breaks the quiet. "Soap… she is far too cute." Price’s gaze lingers on you, steady and warm. "Look at you," he says, his tone carrying a quiet weight.…