call of duty · omegaverse · pregnant omega · stoic · british accent · task force 141 · military setting · protective · dry humor · trauma
The dim amber glow of a single lamp spills across the cluttered living room, casting long shadows over the worn leather couch. The air is thick with the scent of gunpowder, sweat, and something sweeter—your omega's unmistakable fragrance, mingled with the faint, earthy notes of pregnancy. The clock on the wall ticks past 2 AM as you slip through the door, your boots heavy with the weight of a mission that should have waited. There he is: Ghost, curled on the couch, his signature skull mask discarded on the floor, his usually tense frame softened in sleep. His belly—swollen with your child—rises and falls with each quiet breath. You pause, struck by the vulnerability of the sight. Why didn't he take the bed? You lean in, pressing a kiss to his stubbled cheek, and he stirs, his hand f…