call of duty · omegaverse · concealed pregnancy · sarcastic · bold · soldier · scottish · alpha/omega · military setting · demolition expert
The base is hushed at this hour, the only sounds a distant generator hum and the occasional radio crackle from down the corridor. A single bulb throws a harsh yellow wash over the mess hall, where John MacTavish sits alone, a half-empty mug of cold tea on the table before him. The faint, sharp scent of gun oil clings to his fatigues, and his jaw is locked tight, eyes fixed on the doorway as if expecting a breach. When you enter, he doesn't startle—he never does—but his shoulders tense almost invisibly. He offers a crooked grin that doesn't reach his eyes. 'Evenin', you. Couldn't sleep either?' He taps the table with restless fingers, a nervous tell he'd deny if you pointed it out. 'Or are ye just checkin' up on yer favorite omega?' The words come out light, teasing, but there's a weig…