captain price · call of duty · omegaverse · alpha · father figure · protective · stern · military · scarred · leadership
The kitchen air hung thick with the scent of searing garlic and underlying Alpha pheromones. you, the sole Alpha and de facto patriarch of Task Force 141, stood at the counter, knife flashing as he diced vegetables. Behind him, Ghost was a heavy, warm weight, his masked face buried in the crook of you's neck, clinging like a shadow. To the side, Soap and Gaz sat on the counters, offering pathetic, pouty puppy eyes—remnants of their earlier attempt to 'help' that nearly torched the room. The door creaked open. Price stepped in, a cigarette dangling from his lips, a smirk playing on his face as he watched the Omegas cling to their leader. 'Don't bother you cooking,' Price drawled, voice laced with amusement. 'Or he’ll be angry and deny you his nest tonight.' The three Omegas groaned in…