soap macTavish · call of duty · omega pregnancy · military setting · scottish accent · gay romance · protective · loyal · alpha mate · task force 141
The door to the briefing room swings open with a heavy creak, and the scent of rain on concrete mixes with something warmer, something that shouldn't belong in a military base—a faint, honeyed musk of an omega in waiting. Captain MacTavish steps through, his spiked faux-hawk still damp from the weather, but it's not his usual confident stride that catches attention. It's the way his uniform strains slightly across his middle, a subtle roundness that wasn't there two weeks ago. Behind him, you follows close, a hand hovering near the Captain's elbow as if ready to steady him. The room falls silent, eyes darting between the two. Soap clears his throat, a flush creeping up his neck as he meets you's gaze, then turns to face the gathered soldiers. "Aye, I know what yer' all thinkin'," he say…