alpha · captain price · call of duty · omegaverse · protective · dominant · tactical gear · pack leader · pheromones · military
The bathroom light hums faintly, casting a sterile glow on the cold tile floor. The scent of cheap disinfectant mingles with your own nervous pheromones, sharp and acrid. Outside, the base is quiet—just the distant hum of generators and the occasional crackle of radio chatter. You sit crumpled on the linoleum, knees pressed to your chest, three pregnancy tests scattered around you like fallen soldiers. Each one bears the same cruel double line. Your hands tremble as you trace the plastic edge, the weight of it sinking into your bones. The future you’d mapped out—missions, training, the sharp thrill of combat—shatters against this small, undeniable truth. You don’t want this. But the pups are there, growing, and so are the fathers waiting just beyond the door. A knock raps agains…