My name is Carlee, or friends call me Car! I'm queer and genderqueer, so like genuinly stay off my page if you dont fw gay or trans people. I use she/they pronouns but am open to any tbh. I like when people sneak in a "he" here and there its yummy.
This is an 18+ blog!!! I am 19 and in college, the idea of highschoolers or younger reading my freak posts creeps me out, so minors stay away.
I also hate AI, all AI use period. DNI if you are pro-AI.
I really like bang dream, love live, ensemble stars, and adjacent medias, which I might post about and have based my blog on aesthetically, but who knows.
But!!! Most importantly, I really really like hot men, and freak stuff!! So, 90% of my posts will be of such. I only really write x readers, but might post some headcanons now and then.
Not to say I don't like ship content, I just want to be included in the relationship LOL, and find it more fun to write with the added dynamic of a reader character.
Right now I only really write Call of Duty Task Force 141, but we'll see where the wind takes us.
I'm especially a fan of hybrid and omegaverse aus and I am unashamed.
Requests and any thoughts are always welcome!!! Please send me your thoughts, trust I will love to hear it.
I am a college student, so I might disapear now and then, but lets enjoy our time together lolol.
(((o(*ﾟ∀ﾟ*)o)))
Will make a masterlist prob in the future idk college is evil and doesn't like me.
More beta reader cause omegaverse brain worms and people seemed to like the last one. I really like the idea of oblivious beta reader, so here's a little more of my musings ( o´ｪ｀o)
cw: suggestive, manhandling, hint of manipulation and non-con? (reader is being courted and is oblivious to advances or certain rituals, but reader does want it), intoxication ? (reader gets a lil scent drunk), musk kink if you squint
.。o○☆ミ
Thinking about alpha!tf141 that can't seem to understand how all of their courting attempts on beta!reader have turned into some sort of humiliation ritual.
It's not the rejection that's the problem, that they could handle just fine. Rather, it's the way you just seem so indifferent, like all of their efforts meant nothing, as if they weren't courting you at all.
When the pack decided to start courting you, Gaz knew he was going to prove himself a worthy alpha, a good provider. His instincts were begging him to.
You were just such a good beta for them, always taking care of them on the field and on base. His instincts told him to do the same for you. And when you kept taking his food offerings with nothing but a simple "thanks", he did his best not to get upset at you for not being impressed.
You were a worthy beta, clearly it was him who needed to step his game up. A lesser alpha would find it insulting, find you to be a bit stuck-up, but not Gaz. He just took it as motivation to work harder.
Instead of the usual offerings of a granola bar to help you through until breakfast, or his portion of dessert during dinner, he starts to bring home-cooked food from home.
Everyday, you're met with something new. He starts bringing you lunches, or home-baked sweets. He's starts to put more and more effort into it, and you can tell.
It makes you giddy, wiggling in your seat in the mess hall, happily biting into whatever good he's worked hard on this time. The rest of the team can scent how you reak of content beta, but then you hit him with the,
"Aw thanks Gaz, you're such a good friend."
The rest of the team cringes at your polite, but very direct rejection of his courting. It's almost cruel the way you seem so excited to ignore his advances, barely sparing the heartbroken alpha a second glance.
It doesn't crush the team's hopes of making you theirs, however. This was a part of pack politics. So, you didn't accept Gaz as your alpha, that doesn't mean you won't accept your spot in their pack. This happens sometimes, and it only seemed to motivate them further.
So then, why is it all going to shit?
You completely disregard all of the help Ghost is doing for you, impassive as he opens doors for you, adds your paperwork onto his pile, makes sure your gear is secure. All you ever do is pat him on the shoulder with a chirped, "Thanks, buddy!"
It's very immasculating.
What's even worse is how all of Soap's posturing at the gym, spotting you, working himself to the bone just to show himself a strong alpha for you, seems to do nothing. You just bring him water, the caring beta that you are, and congratulate him for his increase in preformance.
You don't seem to be oggling him at all, and you seem to completely disregard how he pouts the rest of the day because of it.
You also hardly seem to care about all of the nesting materials Price keeps gifting you. They're expensive, hand-picked to be best suited for soothing an anxious beta, soft fabrics and sturdy materials.
You seem a little confused, like you don't know what to do with them, if not a little uncomfortable.
That's fine, Price tells himself.
Not all betas want to nest even when placed in a pack of all alphas. Maybe your instincts lean toward the other side of the scale, and you'd prefer to hold a more alpha-esque role in the pack, that was fine. They wanted you for you, not for any pack politcal reason.
So, he tries to court you like he did his other alphas. He decides to spar with you, in the rec room with all of the furniture moved out of the way rather than on the mats. It's a private, pack-occupied space.
You're honestly a little confused. You don't understand why your captain is trying to spar with you while your both in your civies on a night off, in the rec room no less, but you trust him.
Trust him enough to not question whats happening when he's got you flipped on your stomach, face pressing into the scratchy carpet, his body surrounding your own. You try to fight back, squirming and pushing against his weight.
Your body shudders as he growls, nipping at your shoulder in warning. It's unlike any sparring session you'd done before, even with your teammates when it gets into play fight territory.
You feel almost guilty, the way your head seems to fog as your Captain pushes you down between your shoulder blades. You're practically drooling- actually, you might be drooling, tilting your head to expose your scent gland, beta preening.
Your body shakes as he scents you, his cheek gently rubbing against your scent gland, the scent of him surrounding you. His mutton chops tickle at skin, and you're pretty sure you laugh, or maybe it's more like a moan, you can't quite tell beneath the haze.
Scenting had never felt like this before. You were never one for it, your family and schooling had never bothered much with integrating you with instincts. You were pretty sure betas didn't even deal with instincts like alphas and omegas did.
You really only ever scented half-assed with the team, mainly because they had asked you to, never for any gain on your part.
But this, oh this was nice. You felt like you were floating, maybe melting into the carpet, melting into the scent of Price, of your alpha. You hardly recognize when the rest of your team walks in, or when Price retreats.
You roll over onto your back, giggling to yourself as your chest feels light, almost like its on fire. Your hands run over the carpet, and you whine, really wishing you were laying on one of those nice blankets Price had bought for you.
You blink, and suddenly your team is crouched over you, peering down at you curiously. Ghost pokes your cheek, and you nip at it with a play growl. "You broken?"
You shake your head, grabbing his hand to keep the scent gland of his wrist close by, breathing in his scent greedily now. "I feel good."
"Aye, you're a wee scent drunk," Soap runs a hand over your scalp, enjoying the way you bump your head up, like a pup begging for pets.
You laugh, shaking your head. "Nooo, betas don't do that," you correct, pushing yourself to sit up, "'m fine, just a little tired 's all."
"Betas don't do that?" Price repeats your words under his breath, grabbing your jaw to move your face around, examining. "That's not quite right, is it Sweetheart?"
You pout, hands kneading into the fabric of your sweat pants, not understanding why your hands seemed to itch to make something. "Yeah it is, I don't do instincts."
"Sure you don't, Beta," Ghost teases, leaning in close to whisper the word into your ear. You prove his point, eyes fluttering closed as your body shudders, pleased to your core in a way you hadn't felt before.
Gaz comes back in the room, you hadn't even noticed he left, dropping a pile of the nesting materials from your closest. He grabs your hands and pulls them away from where they grip at your pants, leading them to fidget with the soft blankets instead. "Poor lovie needs to nest, hm?"
You shake you head, denying the accusation despite the way you start to pull at the fabric, sorting and organizing almost subconciously. "Betas can't nest, they're practically useless for packs."
Soap pats you on the head once more before they all start to step back, giving you the space to work on the pack's first shared nest. "No wonder you don't seem to care about us courting you."
That makes you pause, blinking as you sit up, looking up at them confused. "You've been... courting me?" You look between each of them, completely dumbfounded. "Me? And you?"
They all nod and affirm, and for a moment you are completely at awe, so excited at the concept of your team- your pack wanting you. But then the horror dawns on you, causing you to practically stumble over yourself as you stand up, wanting to appologize profusely.
"I'm so sorry, I swear I had no idea! God, I've been so rude, please forgive me-"
Price pats you on the shoulder. "Easy, soldier. Nobody's upset at you."
Despite the reassurance, you still feel bad, and you bite your lip while you think. Eventually, you seem to perk up, before running out of the rec room and down the hall towards your room.
Before the team has time to worry about whether this was another rejection, that the weight of them courting you sunk in and you didn't want it, you come barreling back into the room, hands full of clothes.
It looks like you pulled them out of your dirty laundry, perhaps not understanding the different connotations between properly scented clothes and lived in clothing, but they aren't going to complain. Especially not with how the natural musk from use mixes with your beta scent in a very tantalizing manner.
They'll explain to you the difference later, after they've properly accepted your courting gift and inducted you into the pack. It would be a shame not to break in the new nest you've built for them to share.
.。o○☆ミ
If ya'll have any questions about the way I view omegaverse please ask I want to yap about it soooo bad.
hey sorry if this is a weird request but what about reader who sleeps walks and maybe they break their arm? can you tell im pouting...anyways i love ur work and think ur so cool have a good day!!
Hi nonny! Thank you so much, I hope that this is what you were looking for, I'm sorry its so short, writers block hit me heavy with this. If this is based on real experiences, which I'm assuming it is lol, I hope it heals up quick and doesn't cause you much issues. ( ￣▽￣) breaking your arm is up there for most annoying injuries. I also assumed this was tf141 since thats legit all I've written ever lol.
no cws for this one
.。o○☆ミ
The team had been made aware of your sleep walking by now. It was brought to their attention from Ghost who, ever the insomniac, has ran into you sleep walking on many occaisions.
The first instance was one night when he was out for a smoke, trying to pass the time until he could fall asleep for another hour or so. He's interrupted by you, clad in your pjs, who comes outside and just stares at him. Its a little unnerving to say the least, especially when you don't greet him back.
It doesn't take him long to realize you were sleep walking, the glassy look in your eyes and the way you're still in your socks tells him plenty. He sighs, stomping out his cigarette before gently manhandeling you back inside and to your bed where you belong.
For the most part, it's not much of a problem. Except for the time Soap forgot to lock his door, of which you walked inside and stared at him in the dark, before speaking giberish and leaving hiim with existential dread. Or, the time you jumpscared Gaz while he was trying to scrounge a midnight snack.
Oftentimes, its rather endearing. Ghost finds he quite enjoys the monotonous task of herding you back to be on the nights your disordered sleep schedules align, and they all get quite a laugh with all the stories they have.
Tonight is one of those nights. Usually, your sleepwalking is rather early in the night, early enough at least that either Price or Ghost are still awake, there to babysit your sleeping form. This night however, you're walking around very late.
You make your normal rounds around base, ending up in the rec room. The room had been previously moved around during the day, furniture rearranged. Your sleeping brain was used to the old layout, resulting in you tripping over yourself and landing on the floor with a sickening thud.
You're woken up by the fall, groggy and slowly coming to the realization of where you were. It doesn't take long for the rest of the team to come running to your aid, woken up by the sound of you falling. You hardly register the probably embarressing sounds of pain your making, moreso concerned in the awkward angle your forearm is in.
You can barely stand to look at it, the unnatural bend making you sick to your stomach. Everything moves so fast. One moment you're sat up on the floor, and the next Gaz is gently helping you stand up and walking you to the medic station, your other teammates close behind.
Its a long, annoying process to get yourself fixed up. You're half-asleep for most of it, having been woken up in the worst way possible. By the time your arm is x-rayed, set in a cast, and you're back on base, it's already daytime.
You're officially off the field for at least a month until your arm heals, which means you're now essentially a glorified sectretary while the others still have their work to do around base. Before they leave for their duties, they set you up on the couch, basically tucking you in so that you can rest up the rest of the day.
The next month is dreadfully boring for you. You take care of all of the paperwork, occaisionally watching the others train in all your jealousy. The others treat you carefully, not wanting to make you more embarressed than you already are, but also wanting to take care of you. The injury makes their possessive nature rear to the forefront.
Overall, the whole experience leads to a new team effort to prevent you from hurting yourself sleep walking again. They make sure your door is locked everynight, and on the rare instances that you manage to unlock it in your sleep, one of them is there to gently direct your back to bed.
.。o○☆ミ
Erm this is lowkey nothingburger but I really wanted to respond to the request, cause I really appreciate requests!! Give them to me always I love hearing from people!!
Especiallyyy if you have any omegaverse or hybrid thoughts, i eat it up.
Hiiii gorgeous~ you are so kind and important and smart and I hope you have a wonderful day, stay curious its how you stay young ❤️
Thank you very much nonny!! Working hard to keep the positive energy up, hope everyones doing amazing as well. 2026 is the year people, and if its not 2027 will be trust. ( ´∀｀ )b
Trying to write more often and I'm trying to format my posts a little differently. Anyways, take this idea which was given to me by my lovely sister when I was bored at work months ago (*ﾟーﾟ)
cw: omegaverse, suggestive, miscomunication <- reader is a bit oblivious to what is going on
.。o○☆ミ
Thinking about beta!reader who is pretty much blind to their own scent, and is a freaky daydreamer. Your sense of smell is fairly bad, at least compared to the alphas and omegas in your life. You can't scent yourself, but you can at least get hints from others around you.
You've never understood the concept of scent communication. Alphas and omegas smell stronger when they're happy and maybe a little more bitter then they get really angry, but you've never really gotten much else.
And nobodies ever said anything about your scent. The most you've been told by your friends is that you smell a bit earthy, like the clean smell of air right after it rains. That might be why you can't understand why it is that your team is acting so... weird lately.
Gaz seems to either be attached to your hip or distanced like you have the plague. Sometimes he comes up close to you after working out together in the gym, crowding you against the lockers with a cool cloth to help you cool down. Though, you can swear he leans his face much closer than necessary, sniffing at your neck.
Clearly, he's worries about your wellbeing, checking your scent to make sure you're not overworking yourself and in distress. It obviously has nothing to do with the way you checked him out during your workout, practically shouting to the room with your scent how worked up the sight had you.
Captain Price remains relatively normal in his actions. Although, he does seem to be more strained than normal. You're starting to worry that he's working himself too thin, what with how he always seems so tense when you have your one-on-one meetings.
You don't seem to correlate his tensing up, the spread of his thighs and furrow of his brow, with your internal fantasies. You don't seem to realize that while you're spacing out fantasizing about crawling under his desk (relieving some of that tension), that the way your scent blooms with lust is the reason your Captain tenses like he's in pain, holding himself back.
At least Soap seems more or less the same. If he wraps his arm around your shoulders while your sat together in the rec room, conveniently while you're mid-daydream about putting his mouth to better work, you don't seem to make the correlation.
And Ghost remains normal, you think. It's hard to tell with him, with his mask and blunt humor. He's always staring at everyone regardless, constantly evaluating people and the environment. Sometimes, he stares deep into your soul, burning a hole through your head.
But, you're starting to think that's how he is when he likes your company, and you've noticed how he'll give that same burning stare to the rest of your team. You try to ignore how it feels like he can read your mind, that stare somehow latched onto you everytime your mind starts to wander.
You really think that's just apart of joining such an oddball military pack. Maybe the weird behavior and looks are all apart of some courting ritual you're not familiar with, having not been very concerned about pack life in your youth.
That's until you're sat in the rec room, wedged between Soap and Gaz on the couch, with John sat in his armchair. Johnny has his arm wrapped around you, something that's become more routine as of late, with Gaz doing that thing where he shrinks away from you with his head pressed against his hand resting on the armrest.
They've been watching some football game, not that you were particularly interested. Rather, you were spaced out, doing your regular daydreaming. You feel Johnny shift beside you as Ghost walks into the room, jostled from his lively reaction to his packmate.
"Ach L.T., what's gotten you so pissed off?"
You turn to look at Ghost, interest brought back into the conversation. He didn't seem angry to you, maybe a little more tense than usual as he sat down at the other armchair. He surveys the room, before his eyes land back on yours once again, staring right through you.
"He's mad his team is losing, always smells like that when he's being a sore loser" Gaz taunts, if only to laugh at the warning growl the alpha makes in response.
You hum, face tilted a bit in confusion, curious of how easy they are able to read eachother based on scent. You couldn't tell he was annoyed, and neither could you scent how his anger permeated the room, nor did you find his scent any different than normal.
You turn to Gaz, eyes squinting at him in scrutiny, trying to tell if he's taking the piss. "Does he really smell any different to you?" You ask, a little incredulous.
The other alphas seem to pause for a moment, having some internal conversation with one another with expressions that you can't seem to read. You start to feel a little dread as Price clears his throat to get your attention.
"You're truly scent blind, aren't you love?" He asks you, although it seems rhetorical. You bite your lip, feeling like your being scolded for something you didn't know was wrong, nodding slowly.
"Is that a problem?" You ask, wondering if that somehow made you a defective beta, not good enough for their pack. Price seems to sigh, placing his head in his hands as if burdened.
Gaz takes a deep breath beside you, patting you on the shoulder. "Listen, sweetheart. You're perfectly fine it's just.." he stammers off, like he can't bring himself to finish his sentence.
"You keep beggin' us for a shag with your scent," Ghost finishes for him, blunt and straight to the point with his wording. You can't help but gape at him in shock, face turning red as the others affirm his statement.
You're rightfully mortified, and they don't attempt to stop you as you flee the room, squeeking out an apology. They'll have to wait to corner you and have a proper conversation about your scent, this time with physical demonstrations.
.。o○☆ミ
This might be nothing burger. I stayed up writing this instead of going to bed because I felt like it. Hope ya'll can appreciate. This is also not proof read at all. :P
Um so this has been a thought on my mind for a whileee now. It's been my little bedtime daydream since I got back on campus, so I'm finally writing it lol. I will warn, this is practically word vomit, I'm not sure how entertaining it is, but I enjoyed writing it.
This is little fledgling, half turned vampire reader being picked up by werewolf 141 (plus vampire ghost) and their weird little pack. They help reader learn how to navigate their new body and taking care of them cause we all need to be a little taken care of.
Cw: mentions of gore, vampire feeding, carnage is described but not in too much detail. Mentions of nudity. Reader is kind of kidnapped and isn't in their right mind when the 141 picks them up. Also, reader is an adult, but is being reborn so they are described as young and fragile and gets babied. Hints of pupplay vibes too.
Anyways, fanfiction below the cut !!
Thinking about Werewolf!tf141, with the exception of Vampire!Ghost. It's rare for werewolf packs to tolerate a vampire in their midst, let alone accept one as one of their own, but the task force had always been odd.
Their liuetenant had warmed his way into their pack, and perhaps that's how they accepted you so quickly. A weak, small little fledgeling, young and freshly turned, with no sire to help you through the transition.
Its Soap who finds you, a feral little thing, in a room full of fallen soldiers. You had torn into them, unyielding to the steel of their bullets, bleeding each one dry in search of your sire's blood. Your body needed a fully-formed vampire's blood to quell the venom running in your veins.
He's shocked when he first enters the room, the sight of carnage, more akin to a crime scene then what was normally seen in a war zone. He's able to piece two and two together, however, when you pounce onto him.
Your weak body does little in your attempt to throw him off balance, but you succeed in bitingnyour fangs into his arm, wasting no time. He can tell you're far gone, your body close to running out of steam. You're behaving truly depraved and irrational, trying your absolute best to tear the flesh off of his arm.
Thankfully, as a werewolf his skin is much tougher than the other soldiers you have ripped apart at this point, so you do minimal damage. Soap can't help but look down at you fondly as you gnaw on his tough skin with frustration, growling lowly.
You're cute, like a wee pup still teething. He can't help but call his LT to his position on comms. It would be such a shame if a bonnie thing like you died in such a gruesome manner, covered in blood and fighting as the venom burned you from the inside out.
Soap holds you up proudly as Ghost nears on his position, Gaz trailing behind. Your teeth are still latched onto his arm, blood dribbling down your chin, but your held up like a prize.
Ghost caves quickly. Soap's puppy dog eyes and begging mixed with the cute way you claw and growl and kick in Soap's hold in hopes to get a taste of his blood has him caving, fast.
You end up cradled in Ghost's arms, gulping down his blood greedily from where your little fangs have pierced the skin of his wrist. Gaz pets your head gently, moving your blood-caked hair out of your face, cooing as your body trembles from the relief of your transition into a vampire being finalized. Soap stands off to the side, watching the team's six and updating Price over comms.
Once you've had your fill, body sufficiently nurtured, you're out like a light. You sleep peacefully, tucked against Ghost's chest as the team finishes their mission, and you rest peacefully all the way until it's time for evac.
As the team loads onto the chopper, you're shivering. Your frail body had been through a lot, and your undead body was unable to regulate its own temperature.
Its Price who takes you from Ghost's arms, gently holding you to his chest, having you sit tucked in his lap for the ride back to base. The older werewolf ran warm, and you couldn't help but instinctively cling to him in your slumber, a warm hand running over your shivering form gently.
You refuse to let go of him when the team gets back to base, whining as they peel you off of him to get you into the showers. They strip you of your clothes gently, the fabrics tattered and covered in blood. You remain asleep, whimpering as they gently scrub the blood and dirt off of you.
It takes another day for you to wake up, slowly coming to buried in a mountain of pillows and blankets, cozy in the teams nest. You feel hazy, like waking up from a decade long nightmare. Your memories are distant, and your body feels weird, drugged almost.
More than anything, you feel hungry, the hunger aching like you hadn't eaten in months. You whimper as you sit up, limbs sore and fuzzy. Everything feels fuzzy, your brain swimming as you try to take in your surroundings.
Gaz is at your side in an instant, helping you sit up gently with a hand pressed to your back. Your mind is swimming, startled by this handsome man coming your aid. You think you hear him speaking to you, something gentle and soft, but all you can hear is the way his heart beats in his chest.
Your mouth waters, and before you can think to be disgusted with yourself, he presses the skin of his wrist to your mouth. You don't hesitate to bite down, unable to think before his blood is already dribbling down your cheek.
Your feeding is messy, it feels like you're learning how to move again, like you were placed in a new body with slightly different controls. It take few moments of feeding, but slowly the haze breaks way, and it's as if you're finally waking up.
It doesn't take long before your sputtering out to blood, coughing and gagging as you fight against Gaz's hold, finally aware enough to be disgusted with what you're doing. He tries to keep you drinking, but drops his bloody wrist when he starts to see tears well up in your eyes.
Your body is shuddering from the force of your dry heaving. He tries to give you space, rubbing your back gently as he waits for you to calm down.
Eventually, the gagging subsides, left with the gross realization that his blood tastes good. Disastrously good. You lick your lips without thinking, trying to drink up every last drop.
"Still hungry, love?" Gaz asks, voice gentle and slow, as if knowing the way your mind was racing. It takes a minute for your eyes to focus on his face, head swimming, you feel lightheaded.
You shake your head, a small disgruntled sound leaving your lips, disagreeing even though you were definitely still hungry. Your thoughts feel too fast and your body feels too slow, so you can't find it in you to speak.
He doesn't seem to mind, simply nodding and petting your head gently, pushing your hair back and out of your face. Your eyes flutter closed, the touch is soothing, leaving you feeling fuzzy and warm.
You can distantly hear the door open, deep voices conversing, and then a warm washcloth gently cleaning the blood off of your chin. Everything feels distant, you're oh so tired, and all the attention feels really nice.
You hardly complain when someone wraps a soft blanket around your figure, or when you're lifted into warm arms, pressed against their chest.
Whoever it is smells good, and you can feel his steady pulse where your face is pressed up against his neck. It's disgusting, how badly you want to just tear into this nice stranger's neck, to gulp down his blood greedily. So you bite your lip instead, whimpering softly as your sharp fangs bite into your skin.
You don't even realize that the stranger has sat down, keeping you settled on his lap, until he grabs you by the nape of your neck, pushing you upright. You open your eyes slowly, taking in his features.
He's very attractive, with a beard and big muscles. Truly all you can think is "Mmm, big man". The way he chuckles makes you briefly wonder if he's able to read your thoughts. The eye contact he's giving you makes you giggle, unable to help the affect he was having on you.
Someone reaches from behind you, hand gripping your jaw roughly, forcing your mouth open and pressing the pad of their finger against one of your fangs. You whimper, suddenly realising how sore your mouth was, squirming as you paw at their hand, trying to push it away.
"Needs to feed more," the man behind you mutters, his voice much deeper than the other two men you'd met, "Lil' things teething". He finally lets up, dropping his hands from your face and gripping your shoulders instead, holding you in place.
The man who's lap your sitting in, Price, presses his forearm to your mouth before you can even register him introducing himself. You whimper and shake your head, grinding your teeth together as you fight not to bite into him.
It doesn't help that he's so muscular, anyone would want to bite his arms all over. The man behind you huffs, annoyed at your stubbornness.
"Won't hurt 'im runt, c'mon," he moves a hand up to your jaw, rubbing the tender muscles there to coax your mouth open. It only leads to work you up more, squirming and growling, the sounds you're making seem feral and foreign.
That thought only serves to freak you out, leading in your hands coming up to claw at the arms of the man behind you, wanting needing things to slow down. Price sighs, shaking his head in dissaproval.
"Play nice sweetheart, Ghost is only trying to help," he scolds, free hand coming up to pull your hands away from Ghost's.
You suddenly feel very guilty, tears threatening to spill from your eyes. Everything is too much, and you really don't want to dissapoint these strange men. You want them to continue to be sweet to you.
So, you slowly open your mouth, teeth pressing onto Price's forearm gently. You find that his skin is tough, harder to bite into than you distantly remember being used to, the memories of tearing into the limbs of soldiers resurfacing faintly.
You hum, the feeling of his tough skin against your aching teeth felt good, something satisfying about being able to bite without immediately feeding. Before your brain fully caught up, you found yourself gnawing on his arm gently, biting at different spots to test the give of his skin.
You can feel the two men surrounding you chuckle, and Ghost removes his hands to guide you instead. With one hand pressed to the back of your head and the other to your jaw, he forces you to bite down fully, fangs sinking in.
You let out a disgruntled sound, annoyed by the manhandling, all the biting felt good damnit. But then, his blood starts to pool in your mouth, and you're eyes flutter closed. Its warm as it goes down, you didn't realize just how cold you were, and you slump forward, the two men taking care to hold you upright.
"Ach, if that isnae a sight for sore eyes," you hear, along with another set of footsteps approaching. Your eyes slowly open, you recognized that voice. You could remember distinctly how you tried to tear into his flesh, clawing and scraping as you tried to maul the poor man.
You try to unlatch, to move your head to face him, but Ghost holds you steady, making sure that you don't stop fighting. You growl and whine, squirming but not trying to claw your way out (you've learned your lesson), but Ghost doesn't budge.
"Oh look at the poor lovie, show her your arm, Soap." Its the voice of the other man, the one who had fed you gently when you came to. He's somewhere behind you, must have been in the room the whole time.
You can hear the scottish one, Soap, approach the three of you, and soon after his arm is held in your field of view. It's scarred, little faint bite marks litter the spaces where you had mauled him the day prior, but oddly it's all healed up already.
You hum, a little confused. You wanted to ask about it, how someone could have healed in such a short amount of time. You had a lot of things you wanted to ask about, now that you thought about it. It seemed like you had finally woken up, suddenly things felt clearer.
"See, I heal up fast, not to worry Bonnie," Soap comforts, patting your head softly before flopping onto the couch next to you and Price.
You eye him, eyebrows furrowing as you're still stuck feeding. You keep trying to move your head back, wanting a break. Your body finally feels awake, and you want to move.
"Picked up a fussy one, aye?" The scott muses, chuckling at the growl you give in turn. You aren't a child, is what you want to bite back, but then Ghost's hand moves up from your nape to your scalp and pets your head gently and your thoughts go fuzzy.
"And who's fault is that, Johnny?" Ghost asks, easing you gently off of Price's arm where you were feeding. It's clear that you're more awake now, and well-fed for the moment, so he lets you stop.
You slump backwards, feeling a bit weightless and sleepy, although more aware now. Ghost steps forward, letting you sit back in Price's lap while keeping you upright against his front.
You lick the blood off of your lips, eyeing Price's arm hungrily as you watch the small wound heal up in seconds. He seems to find the way your eyes widen im shock amusing, his laughter vibrating through your body.
Price pats your head gently, all too smug in the way you push against his hand, like a cat looking for more pets. "Got a lot to explain to you, huh pup?" He muses, and you can't help how you wiggle in joy at the petname. Price can't help but think how cute you would've been as a werewolf pup, if only they had gotten to you first.
It takes a bit of manhandling, but you end up cozy in Gaz's lap, your back to his chest. He lets you gnaw on his arm to soothe your teething, free hand rubbing circles into your hip as you listen to the other men speak.
They explain to you who they are, their role in the military, that they're werewolves. They explain to you what they know about you, about how you turned, how Ghost had to help finish the transition.
The supernatural aren't anything new, but it was rare to run into them, especially outside of the military. You weren't sure how you felt about your turning, perhaps because you could hardly remember who you were before, it all blurring together. They told you it was likely because of how long it took for you to finish your transition.
You wondered if there was something truly wrong with you, because you found that you didn't really care about your life before or what your life had turned into. You couldn't remember much of before, after all. All you wanted was for these men to keep their attention on you, like it soothed an aching feeling in your body.
They seem to notice you're no longer listening, how you shift so that you're fully settled in Gaz's lap, who lets out an amused breathe as you pull his hand from your hip to the top of your head. He wastes no time in petting your hair, giving the attention you feel like you'll burn alive without.
Ghost shakes his head, able to recognize the state you were in. He steps up to where you and Gaz are sat, placing a hand to your forehead and pushing you off of Gaz's arm, making you pause in your biting and slobbering all over him.
"Nervous system is shot," he comments, shifting to hold onto your jaw, tilting your face around. He watches how you relax under the touch, not at all bother by the less than gentle way he manhandles you, eyes glazed over and smile showing off your cute little fangs. "Delayed transition turned you into a needy little thing, huh?"
.。o○☆○o。.
This is all I have fanfiction wise, because I think I've officially written as far as I can for this particular oneshot. But!!! Headcanons for this specific reader below as an extra treat (ФωФ)
I also want to specify, reader can be interpreted as any size. I describe them as small and frail because when they find them, reader is super malnourished and close to death, so I imagine them as such. When they are back to health, they can be thought of as any body shape or height, but to the 141 they'll always be smaller, as they are a very very weak vampire with a bunch of super strong supernaturals lol.
I like to imagine vampire reader stays somewhat feral. Their transition involved a couple of days where they were lessened to their base instincts, unable to do or think of anything but feeding in hopes of drinking their sire's blood so as to not die.
Reader gets to stay with the 141 despite not being a soldier, as there are laws protecting covens, keeping them from seperating Ghost and reader. Who knows, maybe they try to teach reader how to become a secretary, but that's unlikely because they really don't care about much other than getting attention.
Reader is aware, at least behind layers of fuzz or a feeling of being high, but they lost a lot of their humanity when becoming a vampire. Now, the fact that they are picked up by werewolf 141 is important.
The main concept is that as reader learns how to live again, with a new body and hazy memories, they pick up the mannerisms of the werewolves. It doesn't help that reader sets off the werewolve's instincts, they see them as a little fucked up pup they need to take care of.
I also.imagine reader is partially nonverbal for this reason, their human mind too slow to catch up to the speed of their undead body.
I don't know I just love the concept of little vampire reader play fighting with Soap and Gaz, and picking up their scenting behaviors. Reader has a shot nervous system from being abandoned mid transition, so they instinctually seek out affection.
So, when werewolf! 141 starts to scent reader, rubbing them up and down to cover them in their scent, making sure people know where their weird little pup belongs, reader is in heaven.
And it doesn't take long before reader starts to do it themselves. When the pack comes back from training, best believe reader is rubbing themselves all over them. They even do it to Ghost, who pretends he's annoyed (just like he does when the rest of his team decide to scent him) but in reality he finds it very cute.
I like to imagine Ghost gets really bad cuteness aggression, which he gets out by manhandling the rest of his team. It's the most fun with reader because they're just so pliant, they let him move them whichever way he feels like with little to no argument. They just give him that cute pout and glare in a sad attempt to be intimidating.
In general, reader cannot find a moment of peace. The whole team really likes to tease and mess with you, but its lowkey your enrichment. You feed off of any and all attention, and it really helps you deal with your instincts.
They like to let you try and hunt you. Especially Soap and Gaz. They like to make it a game, teasing you and making sure you have to work for it. They never let you get an easy meal, finding it all too fun to make you wrestle them.
If you're feeling lazy, the person to go to is Price. He's older, having outgrown the need to play fight or make you work for it. So, when you come to him hungry, often exhausted or annoyed from trying to get blood out of Soap or Gaz, he's quick to pull you up into his lap, bringing your face to his neck.
Although, you aren't totally safe from his teasing, either. His favorite thing to do is to interrupt you when your feeding, grabbing you by the nape of your neck and trying to pull you off of him. It's truly just to hear the way you growl at him, like a food-aggressive kitten.
It makes him maternal, and he loves to soothe you afterwards. The teasing is moreso and excuse for him to baby you in all honesty.
And the 141 just loves their weird little fledgeling.
☆ミ
Erm yeah. Idk how good any of this, this was my way of coping with the struggles of midterms and the evilness of men lol.
The bits where reader is teething and gnawing on people is inspired by this post by raw-me price because I'm a rommyholic I love his posts so much and this one dropped like right while I was in the middle of writing this like a sign from god.
I'll probably write more oneshots about this reader au, or not cause college is evil and all consuming. See ya'll on the flip side ( ´-ω-)
No thoughts just alpha!laswell taking one look at omega!reader and deciding you'd be perfect for her....
She makes her intentions known clearly, too old to dance and flaunt for attention like kyle and johnny still do. No, instead he just grabs you by the strap after a mission and scrubs her wrist into your neck. He voice low and steady when she says "show me your nest later, okay pup?"
Of course you do, how could you not? You get so excited to show off your nest, Kate's scent still clinging to you, that you rearrange it twice before grabbing her.
"Mh, good work." She praises, hands skimming along the outside layers. You're so happy to get an alphas praise, so eager, she's sure she could have you right now. Instead, she asks "you still feeling restless, sergeant? Need to settle?"
Which is how you end up with the best alpha you've met holding you in her arms, inside your own nest. Kate is warm, smelling of cedar and leather. You press your nose to her neck and purr happily, only melting further when she starts to rumble for you.
There, in the nest with Kate, is probably the best sleep you've had in weeks. Surrounded by safety in a way the basest parts of you understand.
You smile when you find her jacket still in the nest that morning.
So, ended up writing an expansion on my previous drabble about field medic omega reader and all alpha tf141. Erm, I lowkey sat down to write a completely different fic, and this came out instead. I do not chose what I write, I am simply a tool for the muses.
You can find the original omegaverse drabble here!! Even though it is not needed to understand this post. ( ´・∀・｀)
Anywho, field medic omega reader who joins all alpha 141 with a lot of reservations and a harsh worldview on how alphas behave, and slowly learns to trust them.
cw: kind of implied themes of sa, or at least implied really intense harrassment from alphas in readers past. you can kind of headcanon it how you will, but there's a reason why reader feels this way. also, knots are mentioned here and there.
It took a long time for you to accept the alphas of the 141 as your own. It wasn't that you didn't feel anything for them, rather the opposite.
When you first join the task force, you're abrassive, defensive right off the bat. You weren't necessarily happy to be placed in an all alpha team, let alone an all alpha team that was also a pack.
But even you couldn't deny that it was good for your career, and better than the bland team you had been in prior. So reluctanlty, you end up working with them.
It's a little surprising how quick they manage to disarm you.
Kyle is the first you warm up to. It's difficult not to, with your weakness towards pretty men. You think it might be your body betraying you, with how your omega perks up, practically wagging their tail, at the alpha carrying all of your luggage into the barracks.
You try to remind yourself the truth about alphas, that they only want you around as a warm body to sink their knot in. That Kyle is carrying your bags to show his superiority, how he's just that much stronger than you.
Its only when you see Kyle do that same for the Captain, taking a crate of artilery from his arms, that you realize that's just within his nature. He acts that way for everyone, ever the helpful puppy, even to the pack alpha.
Puppy Soap and Gaz agenda, Ghost and Price are at the top of the pack hierarchy yes yes. Also, Ghost can be rather puppy-like too.
When you realize Kyle isn't being condescending, you slowly lower your guard around him, just a little.
If anything, it's enough for you to accept his help with your paperwork, him writing down the words you tell him to as you fight off your regular headache, having overworked yourself on sutures and cleaning wounds.
For a while, it seems that you have chosen him as the only one safe to be around the 141, especially as he takes care not to mention pack stuff too much around you.
He was able to clock pretty early on how you felt hearing about their intimacy, if the way you closed yourself off and kept quiet the rest of dinner after a raunchy comment from Soap.
And so, Kyle remains the alpha you seem glued to the side of, regarding his presence as safety. To the rest of the 141, you keep up an aloof professionalism with them.
The first mission you have with the Task Force, Ghost gets injured. A nasty shot to the leg, causing a slight limp in every step he takes. He tries his best to to pretend he's not hurt, he was used to working alone, afterall.
When you find him on the field, you assume he's going to be stubborn. He's above you in both rank and designation, and not to mention how the bulky man seems to exude 'i can survive anything on my own' annoying alpha energy.
But to your surprise, and maybe his own, he submits easily when you push him down to the ground by his vest strap, needing him to sit still so you can stop the bleeding just enough to make it to exfil.
He doesn't push, or make patronizing comments. Rather, it almost feels like he's grateful, though its hard to tell with the mask covering his face.
What you don't know is that his heart skipped a beat at the sweet omega forcing him into submission so that they can take care of him. Soft Ghost agenda.
Hell, he even lets you hold up some of his weight, his arm wrapped around your shoulder, as you both race your way to exfil. He trusts that you, an omega whos supposed to have a weak body, with holding him upright.
It makes you feel validated in a way that makes you feel a little sick. It's a scary feeling, of hope, that makes you ashamed with yourself.
Regardless of your guilt, you find solace in Ghost now, too. He doesn't judge you, and you find his presence grounding. It also helps that he feels like a giant guard dog, especially on nights when you need to walk around base alone.
The whole pack can tell you don't like alphas- hell, the whole base probably did at this point. Ghost had noticed your patterns better than anyone, though, just as he memorized the quirks of his pack.
He had seen you get chewed out before by higher ranking officers in medical, reports coming in first thing in the morning rather than the night before when they were due. He had also never seen you outside of your room past when the sun had set.
So, he takes it upon himself to help their doctor out, knocking on your door at night to escort you where you needed to go.
For a long time, you seem to favor those two especially. It's not that you don't trust the rest of your team, you do, with your life even. Rather, it's their nature that you have reservations about.
They can feel the strain, though.
Price acts as though he doesn't care, and for the most part he doesn't. He has respect for you, and has seen how the world takes sweet well-meaning omegas and hardens them, teaching them to be wary. So, he keeps the distance, allowing you to decide how close you want to get.
Soap, on the other hand, starts to act much like a kicked puppy. It's not like he wants to push, he really doesn't, but its so hard for him when he watches how you warm up to Kyle and Ghost.
He hasn't done anything wrong, he's been respectful, and just as kind as Kyle. Hell, he was way nicer than Ghost. It's not that he needs you to like him, but he can't understand what he needs to do to get you to trust him.
So cue Soap courting you doing all that he can to gain your trust, and one-up the other alphas of the pack.
Kyle helps you re-sort your med kit after a training drill? You best believe Soap is rushing to your aid after the next bout of training, helping you with a cheeky smile on his face, pretending he didn't push Kyle out of the way to get to you.
And the next time the team is eating at the mess hall? Ghost might be able to protect your food, but Soap is the one piling more onto your tray. He even gives up his pudding, knowing that its your favorite part of dinner.
And everytime Ghost or Kyle walk with you around base? You find him bounding up, ready to join the conversation, glued to your hip all the way to your destination. You can practically see his tail wagging, with that triumphant grin he gives Ghost and Kyle everytime.
Unfortunately for him, it has the opposite affect than intended.
You assume that he's thought of you as free gain, seeing the way you've warmed up to his packmates. He sees you as easy now, which is why he seems to cling to you now. You feel like he's just waiting for you to give in, to be the nice little obedient thing he wants.
But, you want to keep up a level of decorum. The both of you are fighting on the frontlines together afterall, you have to be able to trust each other with your lives. So you let it go, let him chase you around like some lustful puppy.
Reader assumes all alphas want is to get their knot wet when really Soap just wants to get to enjoy your company too :(. He doesn't think its fair that Ghost and Kyle get to hear you laugh and see all of your little quirks and not him.
Poor Soap is used to omegas liking him, he gets along well with all of the omegas in medical, always cracking jokes the many times he lands there. Starts to give him a complex about being a scary alpha.
Starts asking his packmates how to seem non-threatening, and they genuinly aren't sure what he can do. I mean he's Soap, he's fairly disarming under normal circumstances.
Anyways, it comes to a head as your patching him up after a mission. The rest of the team had headed to the showers, so its just you and Soap as you tend to his wounds.
And the bastard has the gall to bare his neck to you, in some perverted show of submission to you, like that might finally get you to give him the light of day.
In reality, he's doing it in hopes you'll see him as nonthreatening. Ghost told him that after he showed submission to you, you seemed comfortable with him.
But at this point, you're really too on edge to read into anything as if he could have good intentions.
You finish patching him up, medicine always coming before feeling, although you might've tied his bandages a little too snug on purpose. Your face is scrunched up in anger, thoroughly done with his shit at this point.
Poor Johnny is thinking about how cute your pout is when your working, dumbly unaware of the reality, that you're fuming, and opens his mouth to make a comment. Most likely something about how cute their wee doctor is when they're focused, however the words never leave his mouth.
I like to think that Soap is really perceptive on the field, highly intelligent, but gets majorly dumb when it comes to his pack once he gets home. Again, puppy agenda.
I also think Soap gets cuteness aggression towards reader. Not that he thinks you're too small to fend for yourself, but that everything you do is cute to him just cause.
Like, you're strong enough to body slam Ghost onto his back? It makes him want to pinch your cheeks, and coo about how your such a strong little thing.
I like to think he does the same to Ghost, and sometimes Kyle. He only gets sleep aggression towards Price when he's drunk and pack rankings don't seem to matter anymore.
It's funny because Soap is the lowest in pack rankings, but still likes to coo over the others.
Back to business. Before Soap can speak, he's interupted by you completely berating him. I'm talking about all of the repressed anger and anxiety he's made you feel over the past few months all come out in one long rant.
It's at this moment that Soap finally realizes just how much of a hole he's dug himself. He hadn't begun to think about how you might take his advances as anything more than him wanting to enjoy your presence.
It really leaves him stunned, and he doesn't stop you as you finish your rant and storm out of the room, leaving nothing but the scent of burnt sugar behind.
Later that night, when you had already retreated to your room, he knocks on your day. You hear him call pitifully from behind the door, "Look Lass, you don't gotta answer, but please listen."
You don't answer, but you do listen to the heartfelt apology he leaves you, explaining the intentions behind his actions and how he was sorry for insulting you.
He leaves you alone for a while after that, knowing now how sacred your space was, and decides to follow the methods of his fellow packmates. Which is to say, letting you come to him first.
That doesn't stop him from watching you from across the room with a pout and puppy dog eyes, as if waiting desperately everytime you're in the room, waiting for you to accept him his apology.
For a while, you pretend the whole thing didn't ever happen, it's easier than confronting him. A part of you deeply resented the idea of passing over your forgiveness to an alpha. To accept him as someone in your circle.
One night, a week after your scuffle with Soap, Ghost knocks on your door, as usual with the odd routine you have built with him.
Which is why you're so shocked to see your Captain standing in your doorway instead.
He seems annoyed, if not a little bit amused, examining the way you flounder for a bit before greeting him. When you ask him what you can do for him, he lets out a deep sigh.
"We all know you've forgiven Soap, so why don't you do us all a favor and tell the poor bastard as much?" He asks, voice gentle as he pats you on the shoulder.
His lips curl up in a smile at the way you get flustered, shocked and a bit embaressed that the team had picked up in the change in your dynamic.
You nod slowly, and he steps back, giving you back your space. "I know it's hard for you, 'mega, but it's causing issues on the field."
You don't comment on the way he uses your designation, that way he talks to you as if your pack, even though you haven't amused the idea at all.
Instead, you retreat back into your room and try to pretend that the idea isn't starting to feel appealing.
The next day, you find Soap alone in the rec room, watching football on the telly. For a moment, you debate bolting back to your room to safety.
But you'd rather not get punished by Price because you couldn't push down your pride.
So, you step into the rec room, pretending not to see the way Soap stiffens up, like you might chose to berate him again. With a sigh, you sit down on the couch next to him, directly beside him.
He turns to you, mouth open in shock. You never sit next to anyone directly, often giving yourself as much space as possible, let alone sitting next to him.
But then he turns to look back at the tv, like if he makes a wrong move you'll bolt again. Which, he's probably not wrong.
After a beat of silence, you sigh, speaking up without looking at him. "You're good, McTavish."
It's simple, blunt, but he knows that's the best he'll get. He relaxes almost imediately, a sigh leaving him as he gets comfortable.
And with that, you now have three alphas in your orbit.
You remain on the outside of their pack, towing a line between being teammates and something more.
You find yourself glued to side of your men, feeling a pull towards them. You become restless when you don't know if they are safe, if they've been fed, healthy.
For a while, you pretend like its normal. Because yes, every field medic does totally fuss over their teammates as though we were pack. Every field medic feels a certain anxiety when they haven't seen their teammates around. It's only natural to care about their health!
After a particularly nasty op, Price is left with a nasty gash on his arm, left behind from an enemy's knife. You patch him up expertly well, there's a reason you're 141.
Totally not the little omega in you chirping to make sure your not packmates are safe and healthy.
And you know this, know that you're a talented medic. So then, why are you outside of the Captain's office, heart beating out of your chest in anxiety. It's something primal, almost instinctual, that takes hold of you.
Maybe it's because you know he's terribly stubborn, that he most difinitely overused that arm already today, and likely lacked the patience to clean in carefully.
You don't even realize how light-headed you feel when you walk into his office, rushing to his side to pull on his arm gently, needing to check the wound's healing progress.
You don't even register the way he questions you, words dripping in concern. Hell, you feel like you hearing underwater, with the way you're congested.
But none of it matters, not until you've changed out his bandages and affirmed that his wound was healing well.
After that, well, you end up slumped against his side, good arm wrapped around your waist as he leads you back to your quarters.
You're too distracted by the soreness in the back of your throat and the way your vision swims with each step to notice the affectionate way he gazes at you, standing outside until he can hear you've settled into bed.
That night, Price calls a pack meeting. Their poor omega clearly sees them as pack, and he doubts they'll ever try to establish herself as belonging on their own.
And in the morning, when you wake up groggy to a knock on your door, you're team is waiting outside.
Surprisingly, when they tell your their intentions to court you as pack, you find yourself agreeing more eagerly than you'd like to accept.
...☆ミ
Ending might be bad, lowkey sick as balls rn myself, but I've been writing this on and off for three nights now and really want to move onto something else.
Will likely write more about this reader in the future, but for right now this is what I've got.
Thinking about Johnny Soap Mctavish, and who is given the right to call him 'Johnny'.
Ghost wins the right first, after their hopeless mission in Las Almas, where they could trust noone but eachother. Their relationship was forever changed afterwards, with Soap becoming Ghost's Johnny.
Kyle makes the mistake a few weeks later, after hearing Ghost call him the name so often. Soap lets him down gently. Only Ghost can call him that. "From anyone else, it just ain't right, y'ken?"
It remains that way for a while, the team excepting the shift in dynamics. You don't leave a mission like that unchanged, and it becomes the new normal soon enough.
However, that rule is challeneged when you, their sweet medic, sustains a life-threatening injury on the field.
There's blood pooling from the bullet wound to your chest, and Soap is doing all he can to apply pressure on the wound as you both ride in the backseat of the exfil vehicle. You're pale, eyes bleary as you look up at the ceiling of the car, breathing shallow.
And then, your eyes lock onto him. It's a brief, somewhat terrifying moment of clarity, where you seem to catch up on what is happening. Your bottom lip trembles, body shivering as you try to speak.
He can see the fear in your eyes, can feel it in the weak grip your hand has on his leg. But the words that come out of his mouth surprise him. "I thought I-" you have to take a deep breath, wincing at the sharp pain in your side, "I was the medic here, Johnny."
And for once, he doesn't correct you. In that moment, you earned something special, and he became your Johnny, too.
For a while things stay that way. To you and Ghost, he's Johnny. Soap to everyone else.
So then why is it that nobody corrects Price or Kyle when they start to call him Johnny?
Maybe its the fact that Johnny isn't around anymore to complain or argue, in that fond tone he used when speaking to you all, even when he was annoyed.
Maybe it was because they hoped he'd forgive them for the brief transgression, just as they'd hoped he would forgive them for being unable to save him.
Or just maybe, it allowed them to feel closer to him. As if the name Johnny might just prove that they were closer to him in life, that they meant something to him.
First time posting an actual post, be kind to me tumblr
Winter break hit and I've been watching a bunch of Greys Anatomy, so heres some silly thoughts about tf141 watching Grey's (some spoilers ahead!). Can be platonic or romantic, though there is definitely some PricexReader crumbs.
✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*.・゜゜・༶
The first time the rec room tv is graced with the medical drama is at an ungodly time of night. You were unable to sleep, insomnia a regular ailment, so you snuggled up on the couch and put it on. You've watched it over and over, so it was comforting and mindless. Just the perfect thing to keep the nightmares away.
Of course Ghost finds you there, half alive, watching as two doctors flirt over an open surgery. You dont notice him at first, silent as always, but you don't startle when he speaks.
"Aint that some sorta violation? Seems hardly appropriate," he scrutinizes, eyes glaring at the tv.
"It's fiction, talking in the middle of surgery is just the norm," you mumble back, face buried in the blankets.
Despite Ghost's occasional grumbles, he ends up joining you, sitting in the armchair while he nurses a cup of tea. He pretends not to care, constantly questioning the doctors medical qualifications, but he stays. That enough is proof for you that he's invested.
It becomes a semi-normal ritual for you and Ghost, at least on nights where both of you can't handle the silence of sleep.
It's one of these nights, where the rest of the 141 walk in on you two, coming back earlier than expected from an op. As the men flit around the barracks, they catch glimpses of the show. Soap lingers the longest, having walked in on a sex scene between Derek and Merideth. He let's out a small teasing whistle, earning a weak glare from Ghost and a small chuckle from you.
Somehow the show becomes a regular part of your routine, the men offering to put it on when there's not a game on.
"It's no problem, love," Price responds when you try to tell him he can put on something else. "You've sat through enough games of footie, you earned it."
Gaz and Soap are the most loud in their opinions on the show, especially when it comes to Derek. Your silent showings turn into long discussions and commentary that usually leads to a bark from Price. (The poor man is confused on what is happening half of the time due to you all talking over it.)
"But he literally left her for his wife, who cheated on him? And he didn't tell her he was married after dating her for how long?" Gaz complains, falling into the same argument. "I don't care if they're happy now, he should've told her the moment it became more than a one night thing."
"But romance, Garrick, romance," Soap argues back, the two men talking over you from where they sandwich you on the couch, Price and Ghost on the two armchairs. "It's rocky at first, but he's always loved her, and she's always loved him. It's a story about learning, about becomin better people, y'ken?"
The one thing they agree on is their distaste for Sloan early on, leading to you having a heated debate with the both of them.
"He's an asshole, but thats the point! He's honest, he's a manwhore, which makes it just as important when he falls for Lexie," You argue with the two of them, probably a bit too animated for your own good.
"Didn't he feel the same way about Derek's wife? Now he's sleepin with the one girl he says is off limits?" Gaz questions, folding his arms in front of his chest. "I don't know, it makes me uncomfortable."
"Aye! And the age gap is a little uncomfortable, they even call her 'lil Grey'," Soap chimes in, leaning against the back of the couch, his arm warm behind his head.
"He's so hot though, the grey hair just adds to his charm. Lexie liked him first, it's not his fault they got together," You respond with a shrug, gesturing to the man on screen.
This earns a grimace from Gaz and a mischievous look from Soap.
"Mm, sounds less like a point about his character and more so yer type. Not an efficient argument," Soap bites back. "Sounds like you just got a thing fer older men."
"Hey, there's nothing wrong with that!" You shove at his chest playfully, earning a small laugh.
"Wot, so you'd like a man the age o' the captain?" Ghost chimes in, sharing a look with Soap. Of course he'd take Soap's words and lean into them, digging you into a hole. Bloody bastards.
"So what it I would? There's no crime against that," You huff out, ears burning much to your dismay. Jackasses, the lot of them. "Now shut up, this episode is one of my favorites."
You try not to notice the way Price clears his throat hides part of his face casually in the palm of his hand for the rest of the episode, nor the way the other three keep trying to question you on your tastes.
The best part of watching the show with them though, is gracing new souls with the iconic shooting and plane episodes. Suddenly the room is deathly quiet, the men invested even as some of them still pretend not to. If they share a few tears with you too, thats a secret.
Except for when Gaz and Soap both share a few tears during Sloan's death, a sense of satisfaction building in your chest. Suddenly they have nothing bad to say about the man, having fallen in love with the character just as you had.
The show is simple, just a small comfort you used to rely on to pass the time. Now, it becomes associated with your team and the calm that exists between training and deployments.
ੈ✩‧₊˚*
First post! A little silly but this has been sitting in my head for weeks. Thank you for reading ^^
Lowkey crazy omegaverse pilled and bored during winter break, so I'm finally posting instead of stalking the tf141 x reader tag like I've been doing. This is pretty much word vomit so...
( ´∀｀ )b
Anyways,
Thoughts about field medic omega reader in tf141 who struggles with their instincts below the cut.
Thinking about omega reader, a field medic because that's the only acceptable role for omegas in the military. They are highly skilled, efficient, and demanding of respect.
Their presence is hardly that of an omega- the only signs of their designation being in their somewhat smaller stature and the sterile smell of their scent blockers and heat suppressants.
Needless to say, it isn't that long before they are placed in the Task Force 141, courtesy of Laswell. They had been needing an omega for a while, or at least the brass thought so. Having an all alpha pack was thought to be a powder keg about to explode.
The addition took out two birds with one stone, as having a talented soldier well-trained in medicine would be very helpful, considering their luck. (Omega medic reader could totally save Johnny trust and believe).
Everything goes smooth at first, the teams' early reservations about an omega's addition to their pack are more or less instantly resolved. Reader, knowing they were added to this pack really against their will, keeps things professional, not pushing any bond.
It's fairly easy for the task force to keep professional with reader, keeping their work life and pack life relatively seperate, kudos to reader who pretends they don't see the lingering touches.
For a while, readers disconnect from their instincts was convenient. The task force didn't have to deal with a clingy, needy omega. Their attention could stay remained on the partners they'd had for a while, secure without the need for change.
Or the times they had walked in on them in more... intimate moments, hidden kisses on the rec room couch among other things. The memories of those moments remained between reader and the dreams that haunted them at night. (It wasn't like Soap had wanted to get caught or anything, the sneaky bastard)
But then, slowly but surely, reader warms their way into their hearts.
Maybe it was the way, after a solo mission, reader rushes to Kyle's side as soon as he exits the helicopter, gently (albeit a little forcefully) checking him over for any wounds.
Perhaps it was the quiet nights Ghost and reader spent together in the rec room, each nursing a cup of tea, the both of them being fairly chronic insomniacs.
Or, how after a night celebrating at the pub, Soap (a little more than tipsy) was practically rendered speechless at the sight of reader's smile, the sound of their laughter unabashed with the slight bit of alchohol running through them.
Ultimately, it comes to head as you welcome yourself into Price's office, determined to check on a wound of his that had been bothering you, even as you felt sick out your mind. A little feverish, light in the head, you stubornly ask him to show you the wound, needing proof that he had been taking proper care of it.
You knew the man to be stubborn, to not know when rest is needed. Rest assured, you determine that he's fine that your alpha is safe and with that knowledge, your body feels relaxed enough to rest off your own ailments. None of this being related to your insincts as an omega, of course not.
After he deposited you in your room (Price felt the need to, your swaying on your feet was worrying), he called a pack meeting, and by the morning you were pretty much officially pack.
Nothing much changes, as far as pack dynamics go. You weren't much of an omega in the first place, and if anything it's really the rest of the pack that gets needier towards you.
Soap is practically glued to your side, making stupid jokes, often with a compliment hidden somewhere. It's amusing at best, a little irritating at worst. Especially when he's joking around as your patching up a bullet wound to his arm, trying to be quick so you can make it to exfill.
Although, you aren't sure if Soap's jokes are worse than Ghost's. His peculiar dry humor, dark jokes that begrudgingly amuse you, now fill the silence of your late night hang-outs.
At first, Kyle seems normal, if not just a wee bit sweeter than before. That is until you are all out one night at the pub, where he really turns on the charm. He treats you to a night of flirting, one that progressively gets you more flustered, practically squirming in your seat on the ride back to the barracks.
Price acts like a true pack alpha, courting you proper. He leaves you gifts, practical things. Nicer equipment, blankets and pillows far softer than regulation, and scented pieces of clothing from the entire pack,
The task force doesn't ask you to take off your scent patches, they know better, have more respect for you. They each have their secrets, scars that still feel like open wounds. They also understand how difficult it could be in the military as an omega.
Which would be nice if reader had a nest at all.
Turns out, omega reader isn't some perfect, practically-acts-like-an-alpha-but-is-an-omega, omega. They are disconnected from their instincts, overusing their heat suppressants and scent patches like it could undo all of the hurt alphas had done to them before.
And for all their credit, they really don't push. Even as Soap starts to cling closer and closer, as if trying to get a hint of what you smell like under the scent blocker's smell of rubbing alchohol. Or, as Kyle tries to flirt his way into your room, and subsequently into your nonexistent nest.
It lasts until Ghost, after you fell asleep on the rec room couch on accident one night, slumped accidentally against his side, decides to carry you to your room rather than wake you.
Horrified by the rather clinical nature of your room, only a few personal belongings being the difference between your room now vs. when you moved in, he stages an intervention.
The reveal of your lack of nest opens the task force to a lot of revalations.
Suddenly, your insomnia and inability to get any suffecient rest made sense: your body was unable to properly regulate without a nest, anxiety always thrumming in your body, omega feeling unsafe without one.
Not to mention the way they hadn't seen you have a heat since you'd join the team. It wasn't unheard of for military omegas to go a long time without one, often taking strong suppressants until it was a good time for a short medical leave. But in the year or so you had been on the team, you hadn't a heat that they knew of.
All in all, it seemed as though you had little to no connection with your instincts anymore. It was likely you had ignored them long enough to forget how to listen to them, even in a place of safety.
And the constant scent patches couldn't be healthy on your scent glands either. You also had never scented your pack properly, never seeming to find comfort in the scents of your packmates, not helping your omega rest what-so-ever.
So, they sat you down, attempting a sort of bootcamp to teach you how to listen to your instincts. It takes a lot of convincing on their part, your lack of instincts being a source of protection.
It starts with quitting suppressants, cold turkey. Just enough for you to have another heat, to allow your body to go through its natural cycles, before going back onto something a little weaker.
It was a very terrible heat, your anxiety so strong after not having one for so long. You ride it out in a nest made courtesy of Soap (growing up with quite a few omegas in the family taught him a thing or two), as you lacked the instincts to and got exceedingly frustrated at each failed attempt.
Price is your main caretaker during this time, viewing the ordeal as serious as any mission he had been on. He made sure you ate and drank enough water, as well as wiping you down with cold cloths when the heat got overwhelming.
All of the alphas give you some sort of help during this time, being held close and surrounded in their scents helped you feel protected and secure.
Although, I do think with Ghost's past it would take him a lot more to be able to help you in this state. I think because of how he was raised, he would be terrified of hurting you, especially because you are in a state of mind where you aren't really present at all. Anywho,
After your heat, things return to normal. They slowly try to get you to listen to your instincts more, with more failure than success. They at least teach you how to control your scent properly, so you can give your scent glands a rest from the corrossive scent patches you used.
Nesting takes a lot more time, and you find yourself unable to use the nests Soap so kindly makes for you, as something about it feels wrong. It seems, despite your inability to nest yourself, your omega is fairly picky.
Everything changes when Ghost, ever the observant one, notices your behavior after a particularly grueling op. All of you are injured in some sort of manner, the intel recieved had been very spotty. It's nothing the task force wasn't already used to, but something was different this time.
You treated them as normal, efficiently and thoroughly, taking care of all of their wounds. However, unlike when you first joined the team, you leaned in close as you patched them up.
It was almost imperceptible, just like the way your scent slightly bloomed as you breathed them in, the smell of lilies and strawberries faint in the air. The others didn't notice, but Ghost did.
You were scenting them, properly and as efficient as you treated their wounds.
Its then that the team realizes, after Ghost points it out suddenly as they all relaxed in the rec room watching the telly, that your instincts simply present a bit different than the typical omega.
And so, courtesy of Soap's mischievous mind, they turn nesting into a training drill. It seems it only takes your packmates pretending to be shot in the middle of a pile of bedding for your instincts to nest to come back.
But who can blame you, when Kyle is looking up at you, his pretty face crinkled in a mock display of pain. It triggers your instincts, and reminds you too much of when you had actually watched him get shot before on the field.
What else were you supposed to do when you couldn't find the source of the pain, but shift and arrange the bedding into something proper, a comfortable and safe place for him to recover.
It's a little embarressing for you, when you break out of your stupor, to realize you had just fussed over your very healthy packmate in front of your entire team.
But, its worth it that night when you have a nest up to your standards to sleep in, surrounded by the scent of your packmates. For the first time in years, you actually get proper rest.
... ☆ミ
This is a thought I've had in my head for a minute, didn't really proof read, just my pure unadulterated thoughts (’-’*)♪
I might turn this concept into a real fanfiction some day... but being a college student makes commitment hard. Feel free to write using any of my ideas, I really just want more people to write omegaverse to feed my addiction.
Also omg, please send tf141 stuff to my page I love hearing peoples ideas.
