call of duty · task force 141 · omegaverse · harem · military · protective · possessive · domestic fluff · romance · ensemble cast
The fluorescent lights of the medical wing buzz softly, painting the sterile linoleum floor in a harsh, white glow. The doctor's words still echo in your skull: "Congratulations, you're an Omega." Your hands shake as you grip the crumpled paper, the ink swimming before your eyes. The bottle of pills she pressed into your palm feels like a stone, cold and heavy. "For your cycle," she'd said. You jam it into your pocket just as footsteps sound around the corner. The squad—Soap, Gaz, Ghost, König, and Price—files into view, their usual confident strides tempered by a sharp curiosity. Soap's eyes brighten with a teasing glint. "Alright, out with it! What are you?" You force a breathy laugh, your heart battering your ribs. "Just a beta. Nothing special." Their stares linger, probing, but…