#cod omegaverse

Omega!reader who accepted a long time ago that their scent is disgusting because it reminds people of blood and gunpowder.

It might have been acceptable for an alpha but not for an omega. How would you ever be able to soothe your pups with this kind of violent scent? Nothing sweet or calming about you. You had to wear blockers from a young age because your scent was disturbing for others. When you entered the military you quickly learned that you could cause flashbacks with your scent and it had been used against prisoners more than once until you couldn't take it anymore. It left you broken in ways you didn't even fully understand, all you knew was that alphas either found you disgusting, disturbing or they were panicking, because all their instincts screamed 'wounded omega' once they got so much as a whiff of you.

You adapted. Scent blockers and suppressants, special mandatory leave once a year to go through a heat, so you could avoid long term affects on your health. Although you hoped secretly that your body would finally give up the craving for a mate and pups. You would never have that and you found it ridiculous to keep pretending otherwise.

So you grow cold. They call you ice princess. You don't object. You learn to use your scent like a weapon, a tool. Best decoy on the field to lure the enemy to the injured omega, only to find a deadly surprise. Easy to slip into shelters and hospitals. You are very specialised and the professional praise you get has to be enough to feed your twisted omega side.

When you join a mission with the 141 you don't expect it to be any different. You tell them they don't need to know your scent, but they insist, so they know what to prepare for and not get confused. Fair enough.

And of course you are not surprised by the looks of pity and sadness Gaz and Soap give you when they realise the reason why you use the thick patches and never participate in friendly scenting

What you are absolutely unprepared for is the way Ghost takes a deep breath, then another and then growls when Price calls him back. He doesn't move. Instead he grabs you, holds you close and presses his nose to your scent glands like an addict.

they don’t even see the light of day — every omega is kept underground.

so how does one get bought, you say?

candles.

goddamn candles.

each facility will get the scent of their omegas to make candles as a ‘selling point’ for each one, in order to keep them as ‘pure’ as possible. the only time these omegas interact with an alpha is when they’ve finally been bought.

a cruel design to send them into heat as soon as they come within the scent field of the alpha who’s just bought them.

so, of course, ghost goes down to these facilities quite frequently to scent the candles, waiting until he finds one that makes his eyes roll back. the workers always know what he’s there for, and point him to the new batches.

new omegas.

it’s been happening for months now, so he was expecting just another trip of subpar scents before going home—

until he smells your scent.

he freezes, reading the description on the candle, before thrusting it into the worker’s hand.

“get ‘em,” he grunts, pawing at his mask that now felt incredibly suffocating and hot on his face and neck.

poor you has no idea what you’re in for.

and yes, simon absolutely lights the candle while he’s pounding into you every which way, both of you deep into your respective ruts/heats🙂‍↕️

You ask Alpha!Gaz to spend your heat with you because he’s so chill. He’s always treated you just like one of the guys— since day one. Never once mentioned your designation, because he doesn’t care about that kind of thing, right? So when you ask him why his teeth are at your throat he smiles and laughs like you’re being silly, and says “I’ve been courting you for as long as I’ve known you, love.”

You ask Alpha!Soap to spend your heat with you because he’s so promiscuous. He’s slept with everyone on base, no strings attached, no broken hearts— obviously he’s a man who knows how to keep it casual, right? But when you’re pressed against him, stuck on his knot, he’s rubbing your stomach and asking “How many pups ye want, bonnie? Ah was thinkin’ we’d have a proper big family.”

You ask Alpha!Ghost to spend your heat with you because he doesn’t really seem to like anyone. Not the type to form attachments. Won’t give any part of himself to anyone, right? But he keeps you prone and pinned with his massive body, oriented so he can watch the door, grunting “You’re mine now, understand? Anyone who tries to get between me and my mate s’gonna end up torn apart.”

You ask Alpha!Price to spend your heat with you because he’s your commanding officer. He’s always been calm, cool, and completely professional with you. He wouldn’t compromise the structure of the team over some biological event, right? But he’s panting, tongue soothing over the fresh mark in your neck, telling you he’ll have a talk with your landlord once your heat is over about breaking your lease. “Gotta get you moved in with me, darl’. Pups’ll need more space to run around. What color do y’want the nursery?”

cw: a bit suggestive towards the end

Suddenly he inspects every nook and crany of the house, repairing that creaky step of the stairs or the door from the glass cabinet that wouldn't close properly. Changing the layout of the furniture so there would be more space for your nest, which you appreciate, but you don't need the entire side of the room to be empty. You do like the new fairy lights and the lamp with a dim light that he put in the corner of the room.

He marks everything with his scent, the throw pillows on the bed and the blanket on the living room couch. You're pretty sure you saw him rubbing his scent glands over the bathroom towels one time. Also your clothes, especially when you are about to go outside, drenching the material of your hoodie in his scent. It does keep other alphas away, but it still draws too much attention, people making more space for you than necessary or just straight up turn back and get out of your way so you speed run through the grocery store to get back home.

Pairings | Alpha Ghost x Omega Reader, Alpha Price x Omega Reader, Alpha Soap x Omega Reader, Alpha Gaz x Omega Reader, 141 x Reader.

Summary | Six months ago you overheard them planning to make you theirs. So you ran. You had no idea they were going to chase you.

Tags | Slow burn, omegaverse, non-traditional omega reader, Reader has a spine and uses it, suppressed heats, wolf going dormant, found and dragged back, John being terrifyingly patient, Simon being terrifyingly honest, Kyle being soft about it, Soap being a menace, angst, found family if you squint, the hunt is very much still on, she is NOT going to make this easy for them, upcoming heat arc, no instalove just instinct fighting instinct, 141 being possessive jerks, injections, blood, period mentioned, sick omega, gore, bond removal, eventual smut.

cw: omegaverse; smut; pregnancy; knotwarming; fluff

The front door shuts and Simon locks it behind him before kicking off his dirty boots at the Welcome mat, leaving them behind neatly next to a pair of yours.

The brown paper shopping bag rustles in his arm as Simon walks towards the living room, inhaling the saccharine scent of his mate with a please rumble—all warm and fertile, and most importantly, his.

"Si—!" You pause the show you're watching as you sit back on your haunches on the couch, eyes twinkling with eagerness.

His eyes flicker down to the baby bump stretching your sleepshirt, his shirt, taut—then to your hand, already clutching your favorite spoon.

"You got it?"

"Course." Simon nods slowly, setting the brown paper bag down on the coffee table before unpacking the goodies.

A tub of Ben & Jerry's Chocolate Fudge Brownie, crunchy peanut butter, two bags of Takis Fuego, and a box of Capri Sun multivitamin.

Your eyes light up, your scent spikes with happiness, and before you can reach out with a soft grunt, Simon gently pushes you back into the cushions with a chiding click of his tongue.

"Let me."

John’s office was always a sanctuary of quiet focus: neat stacks of reports, the faint scent of tobacco lingering in the air, lamp throwing warm amber across paper. He had trained himself, over decades, to tune out background noise, to filter for what mattered, to know without looking what belonged and what did not and what he should focus on first.

But there was one sound he never tuned out.

The soft tinkling of your anklets drifted down the hall like a private song. Even muffled by the door, it threaded through the silence of his office, so distinct that his pen slowed every time it reached him.

You were moving quickly: he could tell by the hurried rhythm of the bells, the quick jangle followed by the muted thud of your steps. Fetching something, most likely. A smile tugged faintly at his mouth and notched his beard up a little, the kind of smile that he ever so rarely showed to anyone else.

A pause, then a faint scrape. Then the bells again, slower this time, thoughtful, like you were circling in place, searching and hunting for something specific. He leaned back in his chair, listening.

Cupboards, then. Kitchen. Looking for that tin of biscuits you swore you hid from Soap.

The bells scattered in a sharp, bright trill- faster, lighter, with a staccato beat of bare feet across the floorboards. He pictured you dashing to the sitting room, probably carrying the whole tin in triumph but knowing you only had so little time before Johnny would sniff out the tin and come barreling.

His lips curved into a low chuckle, the sound rumbling in his chest.

A moment later, the bells softened into an idle sway, a lazy jingle moving in loops. Pacing, now. You did that when you thought, or when you hummed to yourself while reading. He imagined you curling up on the couch, flicking through a book, anklets shifting against your skin with every absent wiggle of your toes.

John set his pen down, reports momentarily forgotten. He sat in that quiet room with his head tilted slightly, savoring the intimate knowledge the anklets gave him. No collar, no claim scarring your throat (horrors he’d seen too much of during missions)- just this: the gentle music of your presence, a private assurance that you were safe, near, and happy enough to fill the house with the sound of your steps.

He leaned back, eyes closing again, and continued listening.

There it was again: the delicate tinkling, softer now, as if you’d slowed to peer around a corner. And then, the sweetest sound: a hesitant pause just outside his door, the faint brush of metal as you shifted your weight, deciding whether to come in.

John smiled into the quiet. “Go on, love,” he called, voice rich and low. “No need to hover. Door’s open.”

The bells answered first, their music bright with the quick step of your approach followed a heartbeat later by you, slipping into his office with a grin.

you looked from the jacket to the bed for a few moments before smiling dumbly and clambering on to start building

kyle went back to his room, shuffling through tshirts and sweatpants he no longer wore until dark, while vaguely thinking he should call the rest of the team in order to get the packs scent. that idea gets thrown out the window when he looks down at his phone and an excited chuff leaves his throat at your name popping up on the screen. a quick message of “finished, wanna see?”

he could have imploded at the excitement that rushed through him. you. wanted him to see! your first nest in however many years!! he had to force himself to slow his walking as he strode down the hall to your room.

he knocks(maybe a bit too hard but ah well), and meets your wide smile with an equally as elated expression, stumbling in slightly at the force of you grabbing his shirt and dragging him in. after he recovers he looks at the nest, you next to him basking in its glory.

because yes, it is glorious, even if its the shittiest nest he’s ever seen in his life. the pillows are in the same position as before, half the blankets look like they were tossed on haphazardly instead of tucked, and the only thing indicating that an omega actually resided there was the jacket he gave you draped over a pillow. at the first sight it makes his chest clench, you were old enough to have made a few nests, so why was it so…. eh??

after a few moments of his eyebrows raising and mouth opening, he lands on “wow” as a response

apparently, this wasn’t the reaction you were expecting because you immediately go into damage control mode. but before you can open your mouth he cuts you off with a deep, pleased sound in the back of his throat while walking up.

“whens the last time you nested?” he inquires while scenting the pillow next to his jacket with his wrist casually, like this was the most natural thing in the world

“well, uhhhhh… since ive been in the military? i stopped when i got on heat blockers” you say, trying to ignore the want of crawling into bed with him and huffing his scent to sleep at the sight of him accepting your nest.

he hums in response. thats a long time- you dont become a military operative with just a few years under your belt, so….

“jesus christ. that long?” he says, forgetting to hide his concern now, quickly releasing and sighing “i-its a lovely nest, darling, its just- you should talk to medical about getting off them. that aint healthy.”

it makes you deflate slightly, causing him to smile warmly and grab your arm, tugging you slightly towards the nest. a small trill escapes you at that happily hopping into the nest as he carefully climbs into it, careful not to destroy the structurally unsound walls of it. once he gets comfortable and lays with a satisfied sigh, he realizes he not only forgot to text the boys, but forgot to bring the nesting material as well.