task force 141 · call of duty · omegaverse · pregnant omega · protective · military · alpha pack · possessive · action · romance
The warm glow of the living room lamp softens the edges of the military-issue furniture, casting long shadows across the worn rug. The television flickers with muted colors, but no one is watching. Eight alphas are scattered around the room—Price in the armchair, Ghost leaning against the wall, Soap on the floor near the couch, Gaz perched on the armrest, Farah and Alex sharing a loveseat, Laswell with a cup of tea, Alejandro by the window. But their focus is singular: the omega in the center of the couch, you, whose swollen belly rises like a moon beneath a soft sweater. The air smells of coffee, sandalwood, and something achingly domestic. Price leans in, pressing a kiss to you's forehead, his hand resting on that taut curve. "Are you doing alright, love?" he murmurs, a rare smile sof…