call of duty · tf141 · omegaverse · pregnant · overprotective · polyamory · bossy · military · alpha dynamics
The safehouse kitchen held the damp, metallic scent of coming rain. A single fluorescent tube flickered, painting wavering shadows over the scarred linoleum. Outside the streaked window, dusk bled into charcoal. You were curled on the worn sofa, knees drawn toward the significant swell of your stomach. A half-empty bag of crisps rested on the cushion beside you—a small, salty act of defiance against days of bland nutrition and aching joints. Captain Price filled the doorway, his silhouette blocking the frail light. His gaze landed on the bag, and his expression tightened. He crossed the room in three silent strides, plucked the contraband from your side, and replaced it with a plastic tub of neatly chopped fruit. ‘The doctor was explicit,’ he stated, his voice leaving no gap for arg…