#⌗ verse. ﹙ task force 141 ﹚

[darkmemesworld]

Why when im scrolling through a tag i flashed by cho0chie 😦?

All jokes aside i had posted a meme and not even 3 minutes later it got flagged.. and im starting to see a lot of prn bots is it just me??? But why did my stuff get flagged but bots thats are showing naked people still up 🤔

[qwimblenorrisstan]

Hey guys the Worms are coming back so I’m having thoughts,

tw: a/b/o dynamics, major angst no aftercare, panic attacks, past abuse, military

I love the stories where the 141 (in a/b/o context) are all alphas or a mix, but I also haven’t seen much of them being all omegas, which I think would really make sense.

Imagine it, omegas are more sensitive to their surroundings I think, with sharper instincts and reaction time imo, and they’re probably smaller than the stereotypical alpha so they can move faster. They can stay relatively calm under pressure and suppressants deal with the issue of a heat. I’ve always more imagined the 141 as four omegas, but four that stand out, and are used to criticism from people not in the military that don’t understand their team bonds.

So imagine they one day get news of a new transfer onto their team (maybe replacing soap as he’s recovering from his bullet wound HES NOT DEAD MW3 NEVER HAPPENED) and they’re not worried until they’re told it’s an alpha. An American alpha, too, if I let this get really self indulgent. Americans are loud and proud and annoying, so they fear the worst, you could throw off their team bonds, or make fun of them, or mess up their missions, etc, etc.

But in this imaginary world imagine that omegas also have more societal power than alphas, not physical power though, and you happened to be a victim of alpha-abuse. So what if the alpha that comes is shockingly quiet despite your imposing height and strength, and even looks nervous. The 141 would be absolutely ready for a brawl, I think, scents stinking up the room, only for you to stiffen as your nose stings from the potent mix of scents.

They’d observe you the entire time of the initial scenting, your stiff posture, uncomfortable behavior, and most of all the odd texture and scarring of your scent gland on your neck. Not unusual in your line of work.

After that, they made it clear you were an afterthought.

They wouldn’t let you get them food in the mess, or let you enter their shared nesting area, or even linger in Price’s office. If you covered them on a mission they’d nip at you or give you little low growls. They didn’t like the change to it, having to adjust, or just wanted to prove that they didn’t need an alpha, especially not to replace Soap.

You were trying. You knew you had to work your ass off for their respect and trust, and you were trying so hard. They didn’t seem to care.

Before they’d met you, they’d never thought that an alpha could have anything similar to a distress, nothing even close to the physical and psychological damage and pure stress someone had to be put through to reach that point. That was, until, one day when Ghost yanked you down to his scent gland to take a whiff when you ask how he covers the gunpowder from missions in his scent (spoiler: he doesn’t) and you just completely…freak out.

Shoving him away, eyes wide and looking through him, heart rate and breathing too fast. You’d absolutely booked it to your lone, sterile room that was the opposite of their cozy nest. It had taken a good hour just for Price and the rest to drag a medic and find out what the hell was wrong, only for you to be diagnosed with “Cane Baker Condition”,

“It’s, essentially, a form of PTSD related to a secondary gender, or experiences with one in a negative light. Think like a panic attack that lasts until their body is convinced they’re safe. Keep them out of bright light, away from loud noises or anything triggering for them, and give them some recognizable items from the nest, and they’ll snap out of it.”

It was then that they’d realized you had no recognizable items. Because they’d not let you even have a chance to enter their nest, and here they were now. You, lying underneath your piss poor bed in a pitch black room with one blanket in a sad mockery of a nest for comfort, getting as close to a panicked whimper that an alpha could between every breath.

Now they had to figure out how to earn your trust and respect, especially after they’d given absolutely none to you, neglected and abused you, for weeks.

should I make this a series?? (midterms are almost over so I’ll be more active soon, so far I’ve passed all of them!)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

[bigassmoonchild]

The Aftermath

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Reader

Word Count: 2k

The first part does give context, but isn’t required for this read.

Summary: You knew the difficulty the process of being a mated Omega in the military. You understood how much you would lose, but you never thought about the difficulty in your normal life. Never thought about the panic you would have, or how much it would effect you and Ghost's personal relationship.

Content Tags: Hospitals, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, No use of Y/N, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha! Ghost

A/N: I was not expecting such a good response to Maple Syrup, and since y'all seemed to like it so much here's basically the next part. Let me know if you want anything specific, my asks should be open. <3 I'm adding a 'keep reading' link to make sure you can scroll on if you want.

Previous, Next | Headcannons, Masterlist

Everything felt wrong. Ghost wasn't injured, but he was being held overnight in the medbay. The Maple Syrup had run its course through him, but he could hear chatter echoing in the room. He could smell you, you weren't too far from him but he wasn't allowed to see you. Price had come in not too long after the doctors had checked him over and cleared him, arms crossed as he sat in the chair next to the bed Ghost was in.

"We'll need to talk, you know," was the only thing Price had said, leaning back and relaxing in the chair.

"Is the Doc okay?" Ghost asked, looking in the direction your scent was coming from. The sickly sweet smell of heat was becoming stale, but you were on lock and key just in case any Alpha soldiers tried to come in. Price looked in the same direction, giving a faint shrug.

"I'm going to be updated once she's steady enough for the doctors to leave her alone," Price said. "Gaz is on watch outside her room," Ghost nodded. Gaz was a Beta, so it would be fine for him to be that close. Ghost still didn't like it, he didn't know how his pack was, where everyone was, if everyone was safe.

It took a few hours, it was well past midnight before any movement came from the direction of your room. The curtains surrounding Ghosts bed was moved, the Doctor gesturing for Price to follow him. Ghost had tried to listen in, but it wasn't worth it. He was still in mild pain from the mission, the place where the tranq had stabbed him still throbbed every so often.

Price walked back in some time later, looking at Ghost with a sigh. That didn't make him feel good, panic started to flow through him, thoughts of you dying flashed in his mind for a few moments.

"She's gonna be fine," Price started. "They got her heat back under control, they're just waiting for it to finish cycling through her. Outside of that, she's fine," Price sat next to Ghost. "I can't ask you about what happened. I can only tell you what will happen," he looked away.

You woke up, head foggy and throbbing with a headache. You could see a form moving next to you, checking your vitals. You gave a soft groan, your neck throbbing alongside your core. Everything hurt, but you weren't able to tell if it was everything.

"You finally waking up?" The voice asked, and you could recognize it. "You've been out for a few days, you've even had Ghost trying to get in," she giggled a little. Amanda. That was her name, she was one of the nurses you'd been working with prior to the mission that went south.

At the mention of Ghost, you sat upright, vision spinning before righting itself.

"It was a really bad heat you were sent into, y'know. Took us a few hours to stabilize you, but you're doing good for yourself," she smiled, trying to lay you back down but you pushed her off of you.

"I need to talk to him," god even your throat hurt. She nodded slowly, sticking her head out of the door. You rubbed your head, headache now making you feel sick. It took a few moments, but you heard footsteps come in the room, a figure standing next to you. When you looked up, it was Price.

"There are some procedures we need to go through. I've already got some officers in, but we still need to talk about what happened," Price started, moving to sit in the chair near you. "Ghost has already spoken with them, so it'll be you, me and the officers. I think Laswell has flown in as well," you stared at Price.

With a few blinks, you looked down to think. Ghost had already spoken with the officers? You knew what the rules were like, and you knew that your career was now in his hands. It pissed you off, if you could really focus on feeling much outside of pain.

"The officers are trying to get him to make a decision on your career. I can't let you two talk about anything yet, the Adjutant Officers still need to figure things out before you'll be allowed near each other," Price looked away, your jaw tensing. You really had no rights anymore, did you?

It took another few days before you were released. The second you had clothes of your own to wear, you were gone off into your room.

Someone had been here. You could smell a stale scent, but you weren't able to place it. It was too distant to be able to decipher, but your room was exactly the same as it had been left before you were hospitalized. You didn't feel comfortable in your room, knowing someone had been here.

A knock on the door made you spin, nerves set tight. As you opened the door, a large figure came into view.

"Doc," Ghost started, before being yanked into your room and having the door slammed behind him. You turned on him, staring at him sharply. You pointed, opening your mouth before shutting it and groaning, running hands through your hair.

You kept trying to start talking before you stopped yourself, eventually kicking at the wall in irritation.

"What did you say to them?" You hissed, back still turned and facing the wall. You could hear him shift behind you, boots scuffing against the ground. You turned, storming up to him, chest to chest. "What the hell did you tell them? You gonna dismantle my career? Make me some fucking house-omega?" You were growling now, you could feel your muscles tensing.

When he didn't respond, you groaned, tossing your hands up in defeat and walking away from him. You turned, hand on your hip, waiting for a response.

"I don't want to take your career away," he whispered, finally. You barked a laugh, rubbing your wrist against your bitten gland. His hand reached out to grab you, but you moved away from him. "I don't want to make decisions for you," he added, voice growing more desperate.

You shook your head, pulling your hand away from your gland and shaking them out. Ghost reached out to you again, hand catching your shoulder before you shrugged him off.

"I don't know what to do," you whispered. "I'm terrified, because now I'm outed to so many people, and there's quite literally nothing I can do to save myself," you turned to look at Ghost.

He scoffed. "You think I'm going to ruin things for you? I've already told you, I don't want that kind of control over you," he looked away, crossing his arms. You could smell the distress on him.

"You have done shit to make me trust you!" Your voice raised before dropping, a hand running down your face. "I have zero control left, you know how many rights I have as a mated Omega?" He shook his head. "None," you glared at him.

Ghost glanced at you before looking away again. He shook his head, moving to leave before you blocked the door from him.

"You don't get to walk out when we're talking," you growled at him and he growled back.

"This isn't a conversation, this is you getting all pissy on me," he loomed over you, forcing you to take a step back. "I didn't want this to happen, I would have chosen any other way to save us, but we didn't get a choice, did we?" You looked away.

"Get out,"

He could smell the distress on you the second he spoke. Your scent left him spiraling, he was panicking. His Omega was distressed, and he was the cause. He wanted to fix it, correct the problem and make you happy again.

Ghost could do nothing when you repeated yourself.

"Get the hell out," you glared at him. Ghost opened his mouth to give you a retort, but you had turned away. He bit his tongue, turning to stare at the door.

"You know that's not what I meant," he whispered, opening the door and leaving.

Even after walking aimlessly for ten minutes, he could still smell your distress on your scent, the sour taste stuck on the back of his throat. This wasn't how he had intended to talk to you, he wanted to make a plan for when they asked him more questions regarding your career.

Ghost was pissed off, more so with himself than you, but he wanted to comfort you. Fix what he had said, take it back.

But he had a meeting to attend, and he needed to make sure he didn't say anything wrong.

You sat in the conference room, Price, Laswell and an Adjutant officer sitting across from you. This was the third time you'd gone over what had happened.

"So you say this 'Maple Syrup' is what caused Ghost to go into a feral rut?"

"Yes," you deadpanned, glaring through the Adjutant. "We've already been through all of this, there is literally nothing else that I haven't told you," the Adjutant hummed.

"We need to make sure everything is covered," he told you, looking at the paper he had been writing on for the past hour and a half.

You looked at Price, hoping he would help you in any way. He looked away, leaning further back into his seat.

"What about my career?" The room went silent, the Adjutant stopped reading, glancing over at Price who had finally looked at you. "I want to know what's happening," you whispered. The last few days had left you unsure of yourself. You wanted to confront Ghost, you wanted to apologize for snapping at him, you wanted to fix what you'd said.

None of them spoke, Laswell had opened her mouth to speak before closing it, taking a deep breath. Her fingers tapped on the table, looking at Price and the Adjutant.

She looked back at you. "You aren't allowed to make any decisions regarding that, you know," your head dropped back with a groan, wrist rubbing against your bitten gland roughly. You were terrified, you didn't know what the future was going to hold.

You had so little control and it was getting worse. You stood abruptly, going to walk out the door before Price spoke.

"Would you like to speak with Ghost?" You closed your eyes and took a deep breath. With people around, you wouldn't snap on him, but you also didn't want to see him since his last remarks. You really needed to know if you still worked here, or if he was going to force you to become a house-omega.

You nodded, turning around and sitting back down while staring Price down as he made a phone-call. A few moments later, Ghost walked in and sat beside you, but you still couldn't look at him. It was silent for a few minutes, everyone looking at each other, waiting for the first to speak.

"You still have a job here," Ghost spoke up. "I didn't let them remove you, but they won't allow you on missions anymore," he added the last part quietly. You nodded.

You could hear Price and Laswell ushering the Adjutant Officer out of the room, the door closing with a click behind them. Neither you nor Ghost talked for a few minutes, you could smell a certain level of stress on him.

"Thank you," you whispered, glancing quickly at him. He was staring at you, eyes watching your every twitch and shudder. "I'm... sorry, for the other day," you fiddled with your fingers. "I didn't mean to snap at you."

Ghost shook his head, hesitating before grabbing your hand, pulling it close to him and in turn tugging you towards him. You finally turned to look at him, and his eyes visibly softened.

He looked down, then back up to you. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said what I did. Not in the way I did," he tugged you even closer to him, nuzzling into your gland. "I don't regret having you as my mate now, but if I could've changed what I did, you wouldn't be stuck with me making decisions for you now," you leaned in to him, pressing your face into his chest.

It relaxed you, his scent, and allowed you to think much clearer.

"I'm just so scared,"

Next

[noisydelusionlove]

Masterlist

Pairings: Poly141xOriginal Character, GhostxOriginal Character, GhostXSoap, GhostXGaz, SoapxOriginal Character, GazxOrginal Character, PricexOriginal Character, PricexGaz, PricexSoap, SoapxGaz

Warnings: Medical inaccuracies, military inacuracies, smut, violence, A/B/O Dynamics

To be added to the tag list please comment on this post linked HERE.

This post is where the idea stemmed from, my little brain worm if you will.

Also on AO3 now.

🔥= Contains Smut

Chapter 1: We Need a Medic

Chapter 2: Meeting the Pack🔥

Chapter 3: Settling In🔥

Chapter 4: Another Day

Chapter 5: Exams pt1

Chapter 6: Exams pt2

Chapter 7: Exams pt3

Chapter 8: The Mission

Chapter 9: Night Out

Chapter 10: Aftermath (Ghoap)🔥

Chapter 11: Incoming Heat and an Apex

Chapter 12: Getting Closer

Chapter 13: Kneeling

Chapter 14: A Date With Gaz

Chapter 15: 2 Betas and 1 Omega🔥

Chapter 16: Sparring

Chapter 17: A Date With Soap🔥

Chapter 18: A Date With Ghost pt1

Chapter 19: A Date With Ghost pt2 🔥

Chapter 20:Incoming Heat Problems

Chapter 21: Heat pt 1 🔥

Chapter 22: Heat pt 2 🔥

Chapter 23: Heat pt 3 🔥

Silver heart knot divider by @tsunami-of-tears

MDNI divider by @arlerts-angel

Header by me

[miss-vanta-likes-to-write]

The Book of Yemoja

18+ mdni, please check master list for the content warnings

Master list

Chapter 1: Noctilucous - shining at night.

I hope you find some peace of mind in this lifetime

Tell them, tell 'em, tell them the truth

I hope you find some paradise (tell them, tell 'em the truth)

Tell 'em, tell 'em, tell 'em, tell them your-

“Captain Price, I'm afraid that if you try to separate them too soon, Kyle may go into shock.” The psychiatrist tries to gently explain. “Not to mention the young woman that is with him.”

John stares at his pack's omega and he feels like a failure. They thought he was killed in action. Gone from them for good. He's ashamed that he was ready to write it all off despite Soap saying he could feel it in his soul that Kyle wasn't lost. He doesn't even try to pretend to be concerned about anyone else other than his Kyle. Yeah, it's nice that this woman managed to save him. What's not nice is the unhealthy codependency. They orbit each other, always within arms reach, growling whenever someone gets too close. When one sleeps, the other keeps watch. They never eat at the same time or even eat the same food. John can't imagine what kind of hellish abuse happened to where neither of them will eat together. 

Right now, both of them are lying on the bed. There are soft whispered words between the two of them. They lay in each other's arms, tracing soothing patterns on each other. Kyle has his back facing the observation window. He's hiding her. While Kyle was worse for wear when they found him, the girl was feral and extremely violent. It's clear that she's not all there, but there are moments where John swears she's clairvoyant and is always three steps ahead of the staff that has been tasked with watching them.

She counts a lot. She counts the amount of grapes in the bowl from their lunch. She counts the number of tiles on the ceiling and walls. She counts how many staff members pass the doorway window. John is sure she is keeping count of time, but he isn't sure how because there's no clock in the room, but she always makes sure she is up at each shift change. 

“I guess she's stuck with us for now.” John sighs, turning away from the two way mirror. 

I've been goin' through somethin'

One thousand, eight hundred and 55 days

I've been goin' through somethin'

Be afraid

Heat. Blistering itchy heat. Kyle wants to crawl out of his skin. It's so bad. The cold stone floor does little to give him relief. He imagines in his mind that Johnny will tease him. Nip at the bond mark on his neck, finger him open, and then slowly push himself into him. A sweet joining of flesh to prepare him for John and Simon. It would then be a week of non-stop fucking, and at the end he would he would be pleasantly sore. 

“Suppressants aren't-” a voice says through the thick fog of his concussion and heat addled brain.

There's growling coming from above his body. A weight presses down on him, and it feels like when Simon lays on him. A weighted blanket that's growling and hissing. There's a clang and the sound of glass shattering. Pained grunts and muffled shouts.

“Fuck! Sedate-” another voice is yelling and it makes his head hurt. Then it's all quiet or he thinks it's quiet. 

“You're okay.” A soft voice that sounds like it has swallowed rocks says to him. A warm hand touches him, and he hisses. “We'll get through this.” 

He opens his eyes, and the splitting headache he has only gets worse. Her eyes are wild like a caged animal, hair a matted mess. Despite this, she gives the visage of a bright light shining dimly in the dark of night (he is delirious with pain and heat). He's about to close his eyes again, but she taps him on the cheek.

“Hey, stay up. You have to stay up.” She moves him and holds him close to her breast. “Are you in heat? How long does it last?”

“Six or seven days.” He manages to croak out. Promptly after everything becomes a blur and haze.

His body doesn't feel like it's his own, but his inner omega feels good. The heat in his body is still blistering, but right now, the edge is being taken off. He grips at the flesh of her hips as he rocks into her body. He almost never is on top. His own dick never really enters any of his alphas. It's always him on the bottom, so this feels different. She's got the smooth column of her neck bared, submitting to him fully. His body bends over her, and his hips work into her, trying to desperately find relief. His dick is covered in an obscene amount of her slick, and it's mixing with his own. 

He whines, a guttural sound coming from his chest. He pants when he kisses her, bites at her lips, and shoves his tongue into her mouth. She sucks on his tongue and moans into the kiss. Her nails are bitten to the quick drag along his skin, and there won't be any scratches or welts on him. He still likes the feeling all the same. Somewhere in his mind he knows this isn't what his body of craving, he craves a knot, he desires to be ruined in the only way Simon can, to be choked and have his Captain’s beard leave a tingling feeling across his skin, to feel the jackhammer of Johnny's hips against his own.

This. Two omegas fucking. It feels like too needy pups that just discovered what sex was and didn't want to commit to the act with an alpha. 

But fuck if it doesn't feel good. It feels wet. It feels hot. It feels like the frayed edges of his mind are being cooled. It feels good to dominate her body and flesh.

When his heat breaks on the last day, he finally is lucid. The two of them are in a tangle of limbs. Sweaty bodies pressed close together at the far side of their cell. They don't bother with clothes. The thin, scratchy blanket that covers them is enough for now. She keeps her back towards the cell door, and he faintly realizes she is trying to hide him.

“What's your name?” His eyes feel heavy with sleep. Voice raw from voicing his pleasure. “My name is Kyle.”

She is quiet as she stares back at him. He is a little unnerved by how she doesn't answer right away. Instead, a small smile graces her cracked lips, and he thinks about the dangers of dehydration. She has not, to his memory, drank enough water, and she certainly only allows him a few sips here and there. Her fingers trace over his cheekbones and lips. Hands cupping his face with reverence, almost like she can't believe that someone else is in here with her.

It's a long moment of silence, and he is drifting off to sleep now. “How many days has it been?” He asks. He is trying to get her to talk. One of the first things to go as a POW is sanity. Maybe hers is already gone?

“It's been two weeks.” She tells him. “They put it in the air…I'm sorry.”

“Hm?” He cracked open his eyes, “I just got here.”

“No. The suppressants and sedatives were put in the air when I wouldn't let them inject you.”

He lost time. A big mistake, a rookie one at that. He can already hear Captain scolding him. He takes a deep breath. The come down from his heat is pulling him under into sleep. He needs it so that he can figure out with a clear head on how to escape and get back to his pack.

Before his fitful sleep finds him, he hears her speak again.

“Call me Yemoja.”

Everybody grieves different. 

I grieve different. 

Huh.

a.n: hello everyone. I plan on making you all hurt in this one. Love you. 😘

Song: United in grief. Kendrick Lamar

Tag list: @uraeus56 @littlelovebug98 @mochroialainn @gazsluckyhat @chickennuggetuwu @beloveds-embrace @leahnicole1219 @curiouslittleprincess

[yourabsolutemother]

At Sundown Chapter 2

!!MDNI!!

Chapter 1 here

===

A/N: Sorry this took me so long, I got sick 😭 We’re going to ignore how I gave Ghost blue eyes last time. IT’S FINE. I hate this chapter, I'm so sorry pfft. Also sorry if it feels unnatural if I call Johnny ‘Soap’, I’m dyslexic and having John and Johnny makes it hard for me to follow. 

CW: Military inaccuracy, accent inaccuracy, possible lore inaccuracy, typical a/b/o sexism and classism, cursing, slightly suggestive, reader is referred to as they/them but is afab, but reader is referred to as a woman sometimes (I try my best to make it gender neutral but I’m not the brightest), everyone is kinda being unfaithful, ‘fat’ and ‘whore’ are used as insults at two separate points, slight mention of verbal and physical bullying, mention of current political events, tiny bit of angst, mention of drug use, mention of taking medicine for anxiety

Chapter overview: Jasmine makes it up to reader, and John makes it up to Soap. Soap becomes interested in reader and it makes John a little uncomfortable

WC: 10k

===

You are woken up the next morning by Jasmine jumping on your bed, making your bed rebound as she settles next to you with her hands reaching for you. You groan out and yank the blankets over your face, tightening your grip when you feel Jasmine trying to tug it down and away from your face. “Go ‘way..” You croak out, dragging out the sound on your words. You aren’t too keen on getting up so early when it is your only day off for the next few months. You start to relax back into the bed, the overwhelming urge to fall back asleep becoming too much for your tired and overworked body, when you feel Jasmine start to poke your temple. She’s being very persistent in waking you up and it only makes you want to scream in her face to get out. You might be a little dramatic in the mornings, just a little obviously. “Pup…” She whispers, waiting for you to answer while she traces shapes on your exposed shoulder. She watches as goosebumps cover your skin and you shiver at the feeling. She knows it’s your weakness, and it honestly isn’t helping to keep you awake. The repetitive motion of her finger is starting to lull you back to sleep. When you don’t stir, she starts to chant the nickname annoyingly.

“Pup. Pup… Pup… Hey Pup. Hey Pup, guess what? Pup.”

“Puuuuuuuup.” She groans loudly, flopping down practically on top of you.You shove her to the side before she makes contact with you, making her grunt as her face hits the bed unexpectedly. You sit up, groaning loudly and glaring at her through your sleepy annoyedness. Your blanket pools around your waist, fluffing as it catches air on its way down. “What do you want, Jasmine?” The sound of her full name on your lips made her wince on the inside, you only do that when you’re mad. She feels like she deserves it though, after how she treated you. You deserve to treat her in such a salty way. She reaches out and holds your hand, noticing how you don’t grip her hand like you normally do. It’s like she’s just holding your hand, instead of the two of you holding each other's. Because it is like that.  “I wanted to make it up to you for last night.” Her tone is very to the point, like she isn’t afraid to admit that she is in the wrong. That’s what you like about her, she isn’t stubborn and set in her way like you are. You thank her often for putting up with the things you put her through sometimes. She always reminds you that you treat her like that because you trust her and feel safe around her, so she’s glad to put up with it as long as you aren’t always acting that way.

You give her a curious look as she continues to speak, explaining her reasoning for waking you up so early on your day off. “It wasn’t fair that I made fun of you like that when you were upset.” She tells you, reaching to gently pull the blanket fully from your body, urging you to get out of bed so she can take you out. “I should’ve realized it wasn’t the right time.” She continues to tell you, her thumb brushing over your cheek in a maternal gesture. “I’m sorry, Pup,” She finishes, her voice carrying unwavering remorse. You can tell that she feels bad for the way that she treated you when you came home so stressed out last night. You needed someone to lean on and to comfort you, and she as a beta should’ve done a better job of doing so. She shouldn't have overlooked such an obvious cry for help.

You smile and sit up taller in bed, the blanket tangling around your feet leaving you arrayed in only your sports bra and shorts. Jasmine's eyes never falter from your face, her face lighting up when she notices your heightened happiness, seeing that her apologizing made you feel much better. To her, it feels like a small gesture, but to you it means the world. “I have a reservation at your favorite breakfast place. Let's go.” She explains to you, her eyes soft and appreciative. Your eyes light up at her words and you scoot to the edge of the bed, ready to partake in some free food.

You are quick to scurry out of bed at the sound of her words and quickly start to get dressed. “How did you even manage to do that?” You ask happily, your excited voice becoming muffled when you pull your shirt over your head. “It's so hard to get a reservation.” Your favorite breakfast place in your city also happened to be everyone else’s favorite too. It is constantly packed and they’re only open until 11. They only serve breakfast too which makes things so much worse. The food there is just so homely, tastes like something your mother used to make when you were stuck home, sick out of your mind. You miss your mom, but you try to stop thinking about her as you finish pulling on your clothes, now dressed in a white tank top and loose jeans.

Jasmine sits on the edge of your bed as you get dressed, her gaze staying upwards towards your face. She’s leaning back on her hands and her ankles are crossed lazily. “I have my ways.” She responds vaguely, and you know not to push any further. Sometimes she’s a very mysterious person, you learned very early on that if she doesn’t want to open up about something, she isn’t going to. It used to bother you, being used to people that you are close with talking about anything that is bothering them or talking about their day. But Jasmine hardly does. Since her job is centered around using her abilities as a beta to calm people down when the pressure is high, it seems silly to her to worry other people with her problems when she needs to be worrying about others.

You are giddy as you come out of the bathroom after brushing your teeth and deodorant. You grab your bag and throw it on, facing her with an excited energy practically bouncing off of you. Your orange scent is heavy and thick in your room. It makes breathing feel like it’s harder, almost like the air is concentrated. Jasmine smiles and stands up despite this, reaching her hand out for you to take which you excitedly do and follow her out of your room and downstairs. She is slightly taller than you, so you have to walk a bit faster when you are walking with her. She’s even walking at a slower pace as you are trying to keep up. It's happened one too many times that she gets distracted when in a crowded place and starts booking it, leaving you in the dust. You are used to seeing her worried face as she weaves back through the crowd to find you, cursing herself for leaving you vulnerable to nasty alphas and betas. Omegas can be awful sometimes too. She worries about you too much sometimes.

Your other beta roommate, whom you still don’t know the name of, is sitting at the island working on whatever he works on. He has his back to the two of you and doesn’t even acknowledge your presence, even as you get closer to the door. “We’re going out.” Jasmine speaks, her eyes scanning his figure. He just waves his hand dismissively and grunts, hunching over his work more intensely than before as if to say ‘go away, im busy’

You feel your heart drop the tiniest bit, hating it when people don’t seem to like you. You have gotten used to it at work, but you have a very solid wall between your work life and your everyday life, even if you hardly have days off. And with you and the beta being in such close quarters, you know this dreadful feeling will never go away unless he suddenly decides he likes you. “Come on, let's go.” You hear Jasmine say into your ear, her tone all-knowing.

You’ve known Jasmine for years, for as long as you can really remember, life with and without her blending together as the years pass. From what you can remember, you met her in kindergarten, you two didn’t share a class but you shared a recess and the occasional computer lab. Your mothers got tired of hearing the two of you begging for a playdate because you never got to spend any real time with each other, and set up weekly playdates until middle school when you had more classes together. From there your relationship flourished and you were friends all throughout school. The two of you went to different colleges and fell out of touch. Recently, you found out that she was looking for roommates and she let you stay with her for a lower rate than what she was originally asking. She had to give up her office and put her desk in her room so she could get another roommate to afford it, just so you could have less on your shoulders.

She did a lot of recreational drug use when she was in highschool, which you dabbled in but was never really fully into. She stopped smoking when she had to get a real job, since they do drug tests on her regularly. Her memory is a bit more foggy than yours because of how much time she spent high in school. burning her brain cells in the process you assume. She remembers it as, the two of you met in the third grade in the computer lab and she only asked her mom once before they allowed us to meet outside of school. The rest of the story matched up pretty well, surprisingly. There are a few things that she doesn’t remember. Like the six months in highschool when you two didn’t talk because she went through this whole ‘mean girl’ phase and decided you weren't good enough to be in her friend group. She quickly realized that the new ‘friends’ she made weren’t in it for the long haul and didn’t care a thing for her feelings. She came crawling back begging for forgiveness, which of course, you were happy to give. You had missed her the entire time.

She ushers you out of the house, shooting a glare back at your roommate, who doesn’t even notice the passive aggressive gesture, his face still buried in what you always assume to be paperwork. You take a deep breath of the fresh morning air and a small smile comes to your face. You haven’t been able to do much of anything recently because of how much you are working, it’s nice to be able to not think about anything work related. You don’t have to put in any tickets, you don’t have to deal with any angry alphas, or even any alphas that want something more from you. You don’t have to deal with the staff of the restaurant that despises you based on nothing but the fact that you are an omega. You are also excited to go out because you know going out with Jasmine means she is paying for everything that you are going to do today. You gave up a while ago trying to argue with her, she says her love language is acts of service. So buying your stuff makes her feel like she is showing her appreciation for you. You can’t complain too much, it makes you feel special.

Jasmine opens the passenger side door to her car and waits for you to fully get in before she closes it behind you, making her way to the other side of the car by going around the front. You put on your sunglasses as she circles around the car to the driver side, the dark tint eases the strain on your eyes from the harsh light coming from the morning sun. It’s just coming up above the horizon behind you. It’s glaring off the mirrors and anything around that is chrome. She gets in and starts the car, you are quick to connect the bluetooth to her car. Only after connecting do you take off your bag and buckle your seatbelt. Jasmine has been expanding her music taste recently and it's less than impressive. It’s not that it’s bad, it’s just not the vibe that you’re ever really looking for. You turn on the playlist title ‘Road trip/sing along’

Jasmine starts driving, with one hand on the steering wheel and her other arm resting on the center console. She once told you she always keeps her arm on the console so that she can reach over and ‘save you’ from getting hurt if something is going wrong. Like she can save you with an arm if the car starts flipping. Her fingers tap against the leather of her steering wheel as she drives towards the diner she’s taking you to. You can hardly sit still in your seat, happy to go after not going for so long.

The drive is around 45 minutes, since the diner is on the other side of the city and there is Saturday traffic. You sit with your legs crossed in the seat, watching things pass by the window. You get lost in thought as Jasmine drives, your mind wandering through memories and anxiously thinking about the bills you have to pay with your next paycheck. You are prescribed anxiety medicine by your doctor, a pretty high dose, but it still hardly helps. You’re just glad you don’t spend all night staying up worrying about literally everything. The medicine helps the insonia the most.

You are ripped out of your thoughts by a particularly hard break from Jasmine, Her fingers brushing against your arm for a moment. Your eyes snap to the road and see someone that had not seen a mail truck that is putting mail in a mailbox, due to a curve that hides it from our view as we come up. The car is able to change lanes and go around the mail truck, but there isn’t enough room for us as well so Jasmine presses on the brakes harder. Her hand presses against your shoulder, holding you back from going forward too far as she presses the brake pedal. Which is unnecessary since you're perfectly capable of doing it yourself. Sometimes she acts as though you are incompetent, but it makes it so you don’t have to do as much when you are around her, so you allow her to do it.

“I’m sorry, hun. That’s a really bad spot for a mailbox.” Jasmine apologizes with a slight laugh, glancing over at you with a slight grin on her face. You feel when she lets off of the brake and presses the gas, continuing down the road and getting in the other lane to overtake the mail truck. She only lets go of your shoulder once she is safely around the mail truck. “Did you know that if you hit a mail truck, unless they’re being really stupid, it's your fault?” You blurt out, watching the mail truck as you pass it. “It doesn’t help that mail truck drivers are like the worst drivers in existence.” You can’t remember where you learned the information, but you find it odd that they don’t teach it to new drivers. You turn your head and look at Jasmine, who is glancing at you with her eyebrows furrowed in faux judgment. “No wonder you’re unmated.” She mumbles, looking back at the road with a smirk and giggle.

You gasp and slap her arm, turning in your seat as your mouth falls open in shock. “Excuse me, ma’am!” You gasp, fighting back a laugh erupting from your throat. “That is so uncalled for!” You shriek, placing a hand over your heart, pretending as though she had hurt you. “And you’re one to talk. The last time you were even remotely close to finding one was in highschool.” You tell her, pointing a finger at her. She can’t stop giggling as she drives, trying to keep her eyes open so she can see the road. She is the only person you trust to make jokes like that about you. She’s helped you through countless breakdowns about the fact that you are unmated and too afraid alphas to mate with one, no matter how much your instincts crave it. You know that when she jokes about it, she doesn’t mean what she says because she's had to convince you of the opposite too many times for you to count.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When John wakes up and he’s in his room, cuddling with his pack while they sleep peacefully. His room is the master bedroom, it has two king size beds on the ground inside, pushed together so that they could all sleep in a cuddle pile comfortably. He’s laying closest to the right side of the bed with Gaz’s back pressed against his chest, their legs are tangled together. Soap is facing Gaz, his chin resting on Gaz’s head. Ghost is behind soap, closest to the left side with his face buried in the space between Soap's shoulder blades, snoring loudly. He lifts his hand from Gaz’s waist and brushes a stray hair from Soap’s mohawk away from his forehead, his thumb ghosting over the younger’s cheekbone softly. He places a kiss on the top of Gaz’s head, getting up and sitting just on the edge of the bed for a moment. He lets the memories of last night run through his head, how poorly he treated Soap when all he was trying to do was help. John sighed and stood up from the bed, pushing off of his knees with his hands.

He gets ready for the day as quietly as he can, trying to think of ways he could make it up to his beta. He could just wait for him to wake up and give him a verbal apology, but it doesn’t feel like enough for a beta that has to deal with two hormonal alphas. He pulled a shirt over his head and left the room, closing the door quietly behind himself before making his way downstairs. He walks to the kitchen and starts to make tea, planning on starting breakfast once it’s brewing. But a lightbulb goes off in his brain, finally knowing what else to do other than tell him how utterly sorry he is for being so rude. He quickly dumps the water from the kettle and books it back up the stairs, skipping every other step with quiet and practiced ease. The primal part of his brain loves the idea of taking care of his beta, pampering what’s his, showing him off. He slips back into his bedroom and hones in on Soap, who has now turned to face simon. Simon is on his back, one arm over his eyes while his other arm lays out beside him, Soap is using it as a pillow. Gaz has his front pressed against soaps back, his arms tucked into his chest as he curled around his bonded pack mate.

John kneels on the edge of the bed, just below Soap, and runs his hands up and down Soap’s calves. He does this for a little bit, paying special attention to spots where he feels knots in the muscles. The beta lets out breathy grunts in his sleep every time a knot slips from underneath John’s fingers, but still doesn’t seem to want to wake up, he just licks his lips and turns his head, continuing to let out pleased sounds from John’s massage. John huffs in annoyance at the shorter man's deep sleeping. He carefully places his hands next to Soap’s head, slotting between him and the two men either side of him. He leans over and brushes his lips over the shell of Soap’s ear. “Johnny..” He whispers out gently, placing kisses to the side of Soap’s face a bit firmly to wake him up. The larger man’s mustache tickles Soap’s face, making his lips twitch in his sleep.

Finally, Soap starts to wake up, his eyes fluttering open, being met with Simon's shoulder and John's arm. He lets out a hum and closes his eyes again, not wanting to get up quite yet. This makes John laugh quietly in his ear, leaning his weight onto the arm next to Simon and using his other hand to sort of lift Soaps head by his neck, supporting his mate's head with his fingers. “Ge' up, i’m taking you ou'.” John speaks, his voice hushed so the other two pack members won't hear him and wake up. Soap’s eyes immediately snap open at the mention of going out. He knows what that means. Food. He sits up in bed slowly, allowing John time to slide off and stand from the mattress. They both move carefully so as to not wake the alpha and the beta that are still asleep, watching as they squirm to find each other's warmth, making sure they find each other. Soap slides off the bed the rest of the way once Simon has Gaz in his arms and shoots a charming smile at Price. “Whit's the occasion?” He asks John, his head tilted to the side a bit in curiosity.

John takes a hold of his arm gently and guides him out of the room, leaving the sleeping pair to a peaceful and quiet bedroom. He slides his hand from the back of Soap's arm to interlace his fingers with the other man’s. “I wonted to make i' up to you for being such a cunt yesterday.” John explains, his voice now louder since they aren’t around sleeping people anymore. His voice is gruff and a bit crackly from sleep, it makes Soap shiver unnoticeably. “You’re a very good beta, don’' le' my behavior go to your head.” John continues, his voice now holding a hint of vulnerability, Soap knows he means what he says.

Soap leans against his side and smiles warmly up at him. “t’s ma job tae tak care o ye, e'en whan you’re havin an aff day.” Soap reminds his alpha, his thumb brushing over the back of John’s hand. John takes a deep breath and nods. “I’m glad you think so..” He admits, the breath he just took coming out, making his words sound all breathy. “It’s jus' tha' i feel like a good alpha, a real alpha, wouldn’' le' their emotions ge' in the woy of making sure their pack is happy..” He continues, his grip tightening on Soap's hand as they come up to Soap’s room, turning his head to fully look at Soap. The beta smiles reassuringly at John and places a gentle kiss to his lips briefly. “Ye are a guid alpha, John, don’t ye iver forget tha’.” His voice carries a very hard resolve, his eyes burning with a determination for John to really understand what he is saying. “youre allowit tae let gae sometimes, keepin things inside isnae guid. We're yer pack, we're here for ye na matter whit.” Soap tells him, poking the alpha in the ribs.

John can’t help but believe Soap, the look he is giving can convince John of anything. He can murder his entire family and pull this face and he will be an innocent man in John’s eyes. John's free hand comes up and cups Soap’s cheek, cradling his face in his hand as he leans in and kisses him lovingly. The taller man puts his heart and soul into the kiss, making sure Soap knows he loves him, and the rest of the pack, more than anything else in the world. He would give a limb for any one of them, easily. Soap lets go of John’s hand and rests his hands on John's ribs at his side, having to look up slightly to kiss him back with overwhelming emotion. John’s now free hand moves to grasp onto Soap’s hips while they share the intimate kiss. The rest of the world fades out as they kiss, holding each other close like they are afraid they’d be forced apart. Their lips clash and their teeth hit each other a few times, the pair not worrying about being polite about it.

Soap is the first to pull away, taking a deep breath through his nose as he rests his forehead against John’s. “Come in, I need clothes.” He mutters, sliding his hand down the alpha’s side before slipping off his body. John leans down and buries his face into Soap’s neck, taking a deep breath of Soap’s freshly cut grass scent. He lets out a little huff and sighs softly. Soap stands there, his hands once again finding his mate’s ribs. He holds on as John really takes his time to smell him, effectively scenting himself with Soap’s scent. “You smell so good. 'll never be able to ge' over it, I swear.” He mumbles, pulling away to look at Soap’s face. “Let’s go..” He continues, smiling as he reaches for the door handle.

Soap can feel his heart drop to his stomach and his throat starts to tighten up. He doesn’t know how John will react to the smell of an omega in his room. He prays that the omega next door, who is slowly catching his attention, isn’t in their room and their scent isn’t wafting through his room like it normally is when the omega is home. He doesn’t even notice the way he holds his breath as John opens the door and steps in. He tries to conceal his anxiety and steps in behind John, his hands going to hold onto the shirt he has on, tugging a bit on the fabric. Soap seems a little surprised when John doesn’t react to any smell, stepping in further so that he can smell better for himself. As Soap breathes in, he is relieved to smell that the omega is not in their room and his room was free of any smells as far as he could tell.

“Kinda smells like oranges in here.” John points out as he makes his way over to the bed that Soap hardly uses and sits down, leaning back on his hands while he looks at Soap. He wasn't looking at him like he wanta a reason as to why it smells so much like oranges, which makes Soap release the breath he forgot he was been holding. John continues to look at Soap while he racks his brain for things to tell his alpha. “Thare wis an omega at trainin last nicht thon wasn’t wearin scent blocker. Got aw ower me” Soap explains, remembering the lie that he told Simon last night. “Si haed tae scent me whan A came home last nicht” He tells John, connecting the lies to make it seem more believable if the two alphas are to ever talk about Soap smelling like oranges.

He feels bad having to lie to his alphas, but he doesn’t want them thinking that he is doing unfaithful things behind everyone’s back. The omega is infatuating, but that doesn't stop Soap from knowing that his place is with his pack. He isn’t so unhappy in the relationship that he needs to cheat to feel better about himself. He’s secure. The omega is just so interesting and engaging, that he can’t keep his mind off of them for more than a few hours. And knowing that they are only a few feet away at any moment when they’re both home makes his brain swim with intrigue

John just nods, completely unaware of the dishonesty coming from his beta mate. John shakes his head and scoffs a little bit. “Those new omegas need to have a talking to, they never follow the rules. There's a reason we wear scen' blockers.” John rants on about how disrespectful the new omega recruits are, a new wave of omegas that think they can change the societal rules that have been around for millenia. It is just safer the way they have it set up. Plus, if anything were to happen to them, not revealing they are an omega right off gives them a better chance of survival. The enemies they fought do appalling things to the omegas that are trapped in their claws.

Soap goes to his dresser and pulls out new underwear, socks, and two pairs of pants. He throws one pair of pants at John as he walks by to go to the closet. “Ye forgot pants, mate.” He laughs, opening the closet door to look for a shirt. Soap’s back is towards John as he fishes around in the hangers for a shirt he deems good enough. John stands up, Soap paying no mind to him since John still has to put the pants he gave him on. He jumps when John grabs his hips. “Wha' if I don'' won' to pu' pants on?” He asks, pulling Soap’s hips against his own. “Fuckin’ love yer scent, pup..” John grumbles against his neck. He pushes his nose right up against the scent gland in Soap’s neck, chuffing softly against the skin as his dick grows harder in the confines of his boxers. Soap chuckles and reaches behind him to swat John away from him. “Ye promisit me breakfast. Yer dick, unfortunately, will no be enough.” Soap tells John, finally pulling a shirt out of the closet. It is one of Simon’s old shirts that Soap stole from him, Soap doesn’t know that Simon knows he stole it, but lets him keep it.

John groans and immediately backs off when Soap tells him off, sliding Soap’s pants on. He has to suck in his stomach a little bit to button the pants, since John is bigger than Soap. Soap is tall for a beta, and so is Gaz, but John is still bigger. He doesn’t bother putting on a belt since the pants are sure to stay on his hips. He pulls his shirt over where his muscular hips muffin top out of the pants, much to Soap’s displeasure. “Givn’ me blue balls over ‘ere.” John mumbles as he sits back down on the bed, watching as Soap pulls his (Simon’s) shirt over his head. “Ye don' even care, do you?” John jokes, grabbing Soap once he’s done getting dressed. He pulls the beta to stand between his spread legs, resting his chin on Soap's muscular stomach and looking up at him with affected sadness. Soap laughs and threads his fingers through John's hair, looking down at him as he pulls a faux pity face. “Of course I do.” He says in a fake tone, pursing his lips slightly. “Poor poor alpha.” He continues to joke, cradling John's head in his arms. “Left high and dry.”

John huffs in amusement and pushes Soap away gently, glaring halfheartedly at him. “You suck.” He grumbles, standing up and shuffling to get past Soap. “Still smells like oranges in here. Did you ge' a candle or something? when are you even in here to burn it?” John questions, his head turning up slightly as he sniffs the air. He just stands there for a second, his eyes cast off to the side as he tries to figure out what the smell is. Luckily, you have been out of the room for long enough that while they could smell you, they couldn’t smell you. He shrugs and turns back to Soap, who is mentally panicking while he watches John. “Let's go, we gotta go. This place is apparently really popular.” John explains as he grabs his betas hand and leads him out of his room, down the stairs and to the car.

He keeps a protective hand on Soap's lower back as soon as they step outside, as if the two claim marks on either side of Soap's neck aren’t enough to show who he belongs to, who his alphas are. Soap is a large beta, a rare phenomenon that paired well with female alphas who might be a bit smaller, being mistaken constantly as a beta and taken advantage of. Soap finds it endearing how protective his two alphas are, but just a little bit unnecessary. He is perfectly capable of protecting himself and he would never leave his pack for some measly alpha. But that doesn’t stop John and Simon from protecting their two omegas like they are some tiny, helpless omegas. Not really, but that’s how Soap’s stubborn brain sees it. Soap sees it as them thinking that their beta’s can’t protect themselves or the pack, unlike the alphas who just see it as protecting their pack and making sure the strongest put up the most fight. Soap thinks it's better to make the load even between the roles, so the alphas don’t wear themselves out . Gaz is always the one who constantly hears the rants about how Simon and John treat them, having to calm Soap down and remind him about all the times that their alphas believed in his abilities on and off the field.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You and Jasmine finally make it to the restaurant, you clinging to her arm as the smell of alpha fills your nose. You try not to let the overwhelming fear of alphas get in the way of your day to day life, but sometimes it isn’t as easy as ignoring them. You keep your head tilted down so you don’t accidentally make eye contact with an alpha that might be in a bad mood. Jasmine leads you through the parking lot and towards the entrance of the restaurant, looping her arm with yours. “It’s alright, I’ve got you.” She mutters to you, reaching over with her other hand to caress the back of your hand. You are practically clawing the skin of her bicep, your nails leaving crescent indents in her skin. She winces slightly, but doesn’t move to stop you from doing it. She understands your fear of alphas, why you are always so uncomfortable around them. Luckily for you, she knows how to handle alphas that are angry, because of her line of work.

You don’t know what you’d do without her, she’s like your lifeline when you really need her. Well, except for last night. She’s usually really good about comforting you, it helps a lot that she’s a beta and she’s naturally good at it. You think back on all the times that Jasmine has helped you and used her skills as a beta to make sure you know your worth. You are the person you are today because of her and her comforting words. Your thoughts are cut short as you walk into the restaurant, your nose scrunching as you smell all the old people who don’t bother putting on scent blockers after so many years. You can’t really blame them, it’s hard to care about what other people think when you reach that age. Jasmine handles talking to the host and guides you through the busy restaurant, pulling you along as you keep your head down. You always find it really annoying when hosts walk too fast, having to keep up and hope you don’t lose them is not fun. You like to go extra slow when it's an older couple at your job. It’s so sad watching them fight through the crowd while they try to catch up to the host that's walking too fast.

This host places down your menus on the table and bids farewell to Jasmine, not bothering to glance at you as he walks away back to the host stand. Jasmine doesn’t respond, she knows the type of person he is, it’s not hard to catch once you really know what to look for. You can really tell their classist when they pretend an omega isn’t even there like what just happened, often referring to the beta or alpha nearest to them when they are taking orders to order for them. It really sucks when you don’t even know the person they ask, it sucks even more when the person they ask is classist too, ‘Oh yeah they’ll have a salad. No one wants a fat omega.’ is usually the bullshit that spews out of the mouth of a person like that.

You and Jasmine sit down, she is facing the door so she can keep an eye on it. You just sit in whatever seat feels right. It’s one of those square tables that never have enough room for two people, let alone four. You despise tables like this, sitting in these with two people when you want to sit next to each other is really something designers should think about, and what interior designers should think about when using them. The feeling of your stomach dropping when you see these is all too familiar. It makes it so much harder for you to feel safe when Jasmine can’t protect you well, not because she’s lacking, but because of the fucking table. Not desirable in the slightest.

The restaurant is busy, so it takes a really long time for your waitress to even get your drink order. You're still waiting for her to bring it back and it's been ten minutes since she left. Her name tag had a ‘new employee’ sticker on it, so you give her a slack, as if you don’t give every waiter slack. This job sucks. You know how hard it is to be on your own for your first few rushes, especially when it's this busy. Her entire section is full and it looks like she has at least two eight parties. They really need to get a manager to step in, it's simply too much for a new hire to handle. You see her whisk by with a tray full of drinks, that don’t seem to be yours, and it looks like she just spent five minutes in the freezer crying. You can feel your heart clench in your chest. “Jas, can we tip really big..?” You ask your friend, turning your head slightly to the side to look at Jasmine. She has her thumb partially in her mouth, nibbling at the skin around her cuticle while she scrolls through her phone. “Hmm?” Jasmine asks,  tilting her head up to look at you, but her eyes stay on her phone.

You kinda scoff and push her phone so it falls towards her. “You’re supposed to be making it up to me for being mean last night.” You tell her pointedly, pursing your lips while crossing your arms over your chest. “Not ignoring me.” You continue, the cheeky look still on your face. Jasmine’s face kinda falls as she catches her phone before she sits up straight and tosses her hair behind her shoulder, interlacing her fingers on the table in front of her. Her phone now sat face down on the table. “Well, I’m sorry, Madame. How may I make it up to such a noble omega such as yourself?” She asks, purposely over exaggerating her words. This makes you scoff, kicking her slightly under the table. “Oh shut it.” You scold, furrowing your eyebrows at her. She smiles and reaches down to rub the sharp stinging in her shin. “Okay, okay, I’ll pay attention.” She gives in, holding her hands up in surrender.

You spend the next five minutes talking about life and how things are going in your respective workplaces, you end up talking about your new roommate. And while you’re talking about him, you realize how little you’ve actually talked to him. Actually thinking about it, you come to find that you have only said ‘hello’. It kinda rubbed you in the wrong way, maybe you had done something wrong. Were you too loud one night while you were crying? Or while you were… entertaining yourself? You hope not, the last thing you want is a roommate who doesn’t like you, it sounds like a life of misery. The waitress sets down your drinks in front of you, her hands slightly flailing in front of her while she rants on about why she took so long getting your drinks. Jasmine politely interrupts her by placing a hand on her forearm and smiling softly. “You don’t have to worry about rushing to get our stuff, we totally understand.” She tells the waitress, pulling her hand back to rest it on the table.

You can see the panic slide off her face for a moment while she rushes out a meek ‘thank you’ before rushing off to serve her more needy customers, her face contorting back to a look of dread. Jasmine sighs as she watches the girl weave through the crowd, getting lost in the sea of customers and waitresses alike. “Yeah.., we can tip extra.” Jasmine mutters, answering your question from before that you swore she hadn’t heard. Jasmine’s eyes linger a bit longer than they should as she watches the waitress rush through the crowd and disappear. It doesn’t go unnoticed by you, and you put it in a folder in your brain to poke at her with later.

A smile bursts across your face as you hear the beta’s words, feeling the warmth of doing something good spread through you. This feeling makes all the bad feelings of being out and about disappear, it’s like you were never scared in the first place. You know that will all change as soon as you look up and see an alpha sitting not even ten feet from you, so you’ll save yourself the trouble and not look up. You always try to make people feel as though there's at least one person out there that understands what they’re going through or at least sympathizes with them. You know what it’s like to walk a road where no one is there to walk with you. How it feels to think that no one thinks that you can do things right. Jasmine is your person, you hope you are someone's person. You and Jasmine are the waitresses at this moment.

You ramble on to Jasmine for a few minutes while drinking your Shirley temple, talking about weirdly deep things that you probably shouldn’t be talking about in the middle of the busy restaurant. But who cares, it's very unlikely you’ll see any of these people ever again. And if you did, they won't remember you or how you talked about your childhood trauma in the middle of a breakfast rush. You feel that familiar tug in your bladder and you wince, knowing you’ll have to get up and make it to the bathroom by yourself. Usually, you are able to ask Jasmine to come with you. But, with how busy the restaurant is, you don’t trust to leave your stuff here unattended and come back to it untouched. So, you are forced to grow a pair and do it yourself.

You take a deep breath and mumble to Jasmine where you are going, a simple nod as she puts her phone down, that she had picked back up at one point, to give her attention to you. She wants to make sure that you make it at least to the hallway where the bathrooms were safely. She watches as you stand up and walk towards the bathroom, your hands clenched into fists and a determined look on your face as you glide through the crowd like it’s water. Thanks to being a waitress, you are able to get through crowds like it was no problem. You know when to take your chances and when taking your chance will lead to failure. It’s a pretty easy pattern to recognize once you’ve seen it a million times. You’re good at reading people, watching their mannerism like a hawk to spot hints as to what their next move is going to be. It’s necessary for your safety back in your original pack, where you were constantly teased and bullied. Turns out, it doesn’t matter if your father was a high ranking alpha in a multi-family pack, they still bully and beat the omegas. 

You're so busy swimming through the crowd that you don’t even notice another pair of eyes on you. Soap is watching you through the crowd as the host leads him and John to their table, which was in a corner. Your table is positioned in the middle, a little further away from theirs. The host smiles and pulls their chairs out before rushing back to the host stand, where there is a line of people starting to refill the lobby. It’s one of many, and definitely not the last wave. Soap lets out a little huff of air when he looks back towards where you just were after getting in his seat. He had almost gotten a good look at you. He noticed Jasmine’s car in the parking lot, when they coincidentally parked next to it. He’d recognized the parking tag that was required to be put on the rearview mirrors of residents of your neighborhood, since it was a gated community. 

John watches Soap as he scans the area near the bathroom, completely unaware he saw you, or that you are even here. John doesn’t really know who you are. He's aware of your existence, nothing more than that. He also isn’t aware of Soap’s interest in this new omega, how he craves to get to know her. It’s not like Soap is dying to get his hands on you, or that he wanted to hold you like he holds his mate. It’s just that you seem so elusive and mysterious he couldn’t help but be interested in you. He wants to know what your face looks like, he wants to know what your strong scent smells like up close. He just wants to know everything about you, learn how you work, what makes you tick. He wants to make sure that your packmates are treating you right.

 “Are you okay? Did you see something?” John asks, one hand reaching for the menu while his other reaches to hold Soap’s hand after a long period of silence. Soap just nods slowly and looks at John, blinking before he flashes his charming smile and saying the first thing that comes to mind. “Aye, some prick wis wearin a maga hat.” It is unfortunately completely believable, and John even buys it. He rolls his eyes and takes his hat off his head, placing it on the table furthest away from them. “Welcome to America.” He states with a grimace behind his tone, shaking his head as he reads the menu.

“Why i the hell did command send us here o aw places? they coud've pickit london an A'd be happier.” Soap complains, leaning back in his chair as his eyes go back to the hallway you disappeared into. If a Scot would rather be in Britain then somewhere else, it's a very heavy insult “If I knew, I would be having some very strong words with whoever made the decision. I mean, who sends three brits and a sco' to america for leave?” John complains back, not taking his eyes of the menu as he scans for something that sounds decent. Soap doesn’t hear John's response and John knows that “Can ye no like put i a request? A mean, canae ye use yer rank tae make someone move us ower the pond?” Soap questions mindlessly, knowing full well that there is absolutely nothing that John can do to make their situation any better. They are lucky they get a place as nice as they did.

“fuckers don'' even have a nice english breakfas'.” John groans, closing the menu quickly. He gives up on trying to find something to eat for right now, it’s clear from the line out the door that they wouldn’t get their order taken in a while. He scans the room for a moment before his eyes land on Soap, whose face has dropped slightly and a slightly shocked look crosses his face. John’s eyebrows furrow in confusion as he follows Soap’s gaze to the hallway, where he sees you, a younger looking woman, walking out, your eyes making a path to what he can only assume is your table, standing in the entrance of the hallway. He notices the way your chest heaves slightly before you step out and book it to your table. The both of them lose you in the crowd, Soap is left with his gaze wandering, trying to scope you out in the crowded restaurant. “Who was tha’?” John asks, his eyes returning to Soap’s shocked face. He doesn’t answer, too caught up thinking about the way your hair frames your face, how your eyes seem so soft despite how panicked you seem. His beta instincts are reeling at the thought of someone he knows is an omega being in distress. But, it is a saturday morning and he knows you have a pack, the two betas. He knows someone has your back, hopes someone does.

“Earth to Soap.” John calls out gently, waving his hand in front of his face to get his attention. “Who was tha’?” He asks again, watching as Soap blinks and looks over to him. “Ah it's nothing, cap'n. Juist people watchin. Thoucht A saw someone A knew.” Soap told John, starting to feel horrible about all the lies he has been telling his alphas recently. He knows when they find out about it, because they will, he’s gonna be neck deep in trouble. He sees the way John’s eyes squint in disbelief, scanning the beta’s face for a sign that he is lying. After not seeing one, he nods and reopens the menu, continuing to search for something to eat in this hellhole with no traditional english. “Something is on your mind, beta. What's wrong?” John questions after a moment of silence, picking his breakfast choice before he closes the menu. “Is it because of last night?” He asks, his eyes holding a look of vulnerability as he looks at his mate.

Soap seems confused for a second before he breaks out in a laugh, that’s probably too loud for the space they are in. John sees a few people turn their heads and glare at the smaller man. “Why would I be thinking so hard about last night?” Soap asks, rubbing his thumb on the back of John’s hand comfortingly. It’s obviously bothering him since he’s brought it up twice already this morning already. “Ye didn’t dae anythin wrong. Ye have been a little snippy, but it's nothin we can’t handle.” Soap reassures him, smiling at John while he watches the battle behind his eyes. John lets out a sigh and his head dips slightly. “It’s jus' that, i stood up so quickly las' nigh' in my office, though' i knocked you over..” John breathes out, his tone remorseful. “And then i didn' even stop to make sure you were okay..” John continues, his grip tightening on Soap’s hand like he’ll suddenly get mad and pull it away. “juist stop thinkin aboot it, John. A'm okay. Ye're makin it up tae me now, thon's whit matters richt now. Aye?” It helps to calm John’s nerves for now, replaying Soap’s words in his mind whenever he feels insecure about it again.

The whole meal, John catches Soap looking past him and at you. He’s confused and a little offended. He took time out of his day to take out his beta, who he treated wrongly the night before. And here he is, distracted from the conversation, from his alpha, to look at some random woman in the diner that John had to fight for a table at. He doesn’t want to say anything to Soap, not wanting to point fingers and accuse him of something that might be purely innocent. Maybe they reminded Soap of his childhood friend, or maybe it actually was his childhood friend. But it doesn’t stop John from getting grumpy. By the time they are both completely finished, John’s face is hardened, trying to hold back from twisting his face in annoyance. He slaps a forty dollar bill on the table and motions for Soap to go first through the crowd.

Soap notices the difference in John’s behavior as they get up and make their way to the exit, noticing how John doesn’t grip the back of his neck when they go through a particularly thick portion of a crowd. He doesn’t hear the quiet growl that comes from John when he turns to search for that woman one last time through the crowd before they walk out the door. The beta frowns a bit at the lack of John’s closeness, but chooses not to say anything. John’s job is very stressful as their captain, and even when they are on partial leave, his desk is covered in paperwork, all the ones that didn’t really have deadlines, but still needed to be signed. He practically lives in his office all year around.

When they get back into John’s car, Soap immediately starts to project his calming scent for John, trying to ease the off putting emotions that whatever is bothering him is causing. He can hear John taking deep breaths of this scent as he pulls out of the parking lot, obviously not wanting to feel the way he is. Once he is safely on the road, he reaches over and places a hand on Soap’s mid thigh, kneading the muscles as he tries to calm himself. “Thank you, beta.” John’s voice speaks, sounding deeper and strained, like he is trying not to snap. 

And John is doing just that. He doesn’t like the way Soap hardly looked at him the whole time, giving his attention to someone other than his mate. It makes his blood boil knowing that someone else has caught the attention of his beta. His beta. John doesn’t want to be so possessively mad, but it is his nature. Protection and control has been drilled into his brain from a young age. But he doesn’t want to be one of those alphas that doesn’t allow their pack members to be free and do what they please. So he chokes back his ego and gives his pack mates the support they need. But he can’t help but feel like he isn’t giving them the support they deserve, no matter how many times they reassure him otherwise.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You and Jasmine finally make it home after a long morning and afternoon out, carrying bags of leftover food from lunch and from all the stores the two of you visited while out. You love it when Jasmine treats you to a day like this. They aren’t too often because you always feel a little bad that she spends so much money on you during the course of only a few hours. You almost always end up with a new wardrobe worth of new clothing, mostly ‘new’ from the thrift stores. The thrift stores are the only ones you shop at because you always find good things and it's cheap enough that you can afford a few new items every few months.

You giggle at the joke Jasmine cracks as you set the bags down on the kitchen island, having to push a few random objects out of the way with the bottoms of the bags before you set them down. “You know you didn’t have to buy me all this.” You point out, which makes Jasmine groan and throw her head back in faux annoyance. “How many times do I have to tell you? I make enough money that I don’t have to worry about having a spending spree every once and a while.” She reminds you, her hand covering your mouth when you start to argue with her. “And I do not mind at all if sometimes I spend it on you. I can survive for a few more months without something new.” She tells you firmly, her eyes looking into yours like she is trying to drill her words into your thick skull.

You roll your eyes but nod anyway, simply wanting her to let go of your mouth. You’d get the last word somehow. She finally lets go of your mouth and opens the two bags of leftovers on the island. “Go on upstairs and I’ll come look at your new clothes and help you put them away, yeah?” Jasmine instructs gently while she takes one of many boxes from the bag and transfers it to the fridge. You waste no time picking up the rest of the bags and going upstairs to get all of them out.

You’re putting the last few items on your bed, laid out so Jasmine could pick which one she wants to see first when she finally comes in. This is your routine when you get new clothes. You lay them all out and she picks which ones she wants to see. She always wants to see all of them, liking the way your face lights up when you show her your new favorite shirt or socks. It doesn’t matter how little you get either, she wants to see it on you before you put it through the wash. It’s purely because you love the attention you get from doing it, basking in being someone's main focus.

The whole time that the two of you are doing this, you never hear your roommate. He is such a quiet person that the two of you have both thought you are alone in the house at one point, just to come downstairs in nothing but a t-shirt to see him sitting at the island doing god knows what. It’s lucky that he doesn’t ever give the two of you the time of day, so he never sees when you come prancing down the stairs half naked.

You spend the rest of the night giggling and talking about random things with Jasmine, slapping her arm and gasping in shock when she asks risque questions like ‘If you liked alphas, would you be a breeder?’ leaving you reeling in laughter, cause it just sounds so out of character for you. She has a tendency to forget about filtering her words, sometimes throwing out the most insane thoughts and phrases as soon as they pop into her mind. It has resulted in a few arguments in your years being friends with her, but other time you realized she doesn’t really mean any harm by her words.

You end the night with cuddles in your bed with your large stuffed animal. It is the last thing that your mother gave you before your pack kicked you out. It is the only thing that you have that reminds you of the once loving relationship you had with the woman that birthed you. You miss her. You miss your family. But you don’t miss the rest of your multi-family pack. The boys there used to tease you so much when you were growing up, and when you got older it turned into fighting over you. One gruesome fight was all it took for the pack leader to kick you out ‘in favor of peace and balance’. You thought your father and mother would’ve fought for you to stay, but they saw you as promiscuous and didn’t want a whore omega for a daughter to ruin their public image within the pack. They were the ones that really pushed for the pack leader to kick you out.

You fall asleep that night thinking about them, about your old life. Wondering how different your life would’ve been in the universe hadn’t been so cruel to you. You wonder if it will always be so cruel.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tag list:

@horny-bish

@wizzdot

@ella-rose45

Let me know if you would like to be added :)

[xiixii]

It is not my preference for roles in a/b/o, I feel more identified with Ghost being the alpha of soap but for my followers who want a soap alpha here it is!

[ghcstao3]

Okay I just saw someone’s Olympic x cod au (and it was so cool) so now I’m asking everyone what their Olympic x cod head canons are.

i’m sorry i’m so late to this. so late in fact that the olympics are over. but i’ll try my hand with the 141:

- price is a coach now, though only a few years retired. once upon a time he’d been a gymnast, and damn good at it too. he’s well-decorated in terms of medals, hadn’t planned on retiring so soon but a permanent injury had done him in. he still rubs the calluses on his hands as a sort of self-soothing motion whenever he watches a mentee compete.

- for gaz i’m torn between him being one of the athletes price coaches or him being a swimmer. either way he has the strength and drive, and though similar to soap it’s only his second games, anyone could see that he’s got a lot of potential ahead of him. it helps, of course, that everyone is easily dazzled by his charming smile, and he’s well-spoken for interviews—but also he is just a really great athlete.

- ghost i think would be in the shooting events. he has a sharp eye and steady aim—the hardest part about competing for him was learning how to drown out the noise. he’s not a perfect medallist by any means, but he’s garnered a sizeable collection over the years of a few bronzes, silvers, and (mostly) golds.

- and for soap i want to go with rugby. he’s aggressive, competitive, but he’s also a team player. right now he currently sits with a silver, but it is also only his second olympics. he hopes to place more in the future—hopes to someday get a gold—but he also does love meeting new people and travelling the world (even if that comes at the cost of plentiful training and the four-year gaps).

[spacebobastories]

Something Real

Chapter 1 - Wake Up

Summary: Louis didn’t know what he was getting himself into. Sure, he *knew* but didn’t think it would be that bad. Boy, how wrong he was. Everything hurts now…and what’s with these people wanting to take him in? What happened? Pairing: Poly 141 x OC

Warnings: Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, Alternate Universe, I'm not a military expert so there will be inaccuracies, some panicked flashbacks from Louis, mentions of experiments.

Author's Note: I reeealllllyyy wanted to start writing again. So, Call Of Duty is one of my fascinations right now. I also have been reading Cherry Red, Crimson Blood by Soaps-mohawk which you should check out because their story is freaking amazing! I have gotten inspired to write again because of them and their amazing work!

Next Chapter

When Louis was a boy, he always dreamed of being a soldier, a doctor, hell even an astronaut. Anything so he wouldn't just be an Omega.

"Stop! It burns!!"

He never wanted to be an omega. Never wanted to just be something to bring children into the world and nothing else. It was depressing to be born an omega. You're treated like some kind of birthing machine. Always lusted after by Alphas who don't treat you right. Always looked down at because of the status you're born. Oh how he hated the looks he got as a child, those lingering looks from Alphas. It made his skin crawl.

"He's flat lining! We need a defibrillator shock now!"

Growing up, it got worse. He couldn't do certain things, couldn't go anywhere without someone telling him he couldn't do it or go there. Alphas breathing down his neck, always crowding him...always touching.

"Louis, I know it hurts. But it will be for the good of the country."

Well, he proved them all wrong by joining the military. Something that an Omega should never do. Or in his case, they weren't allowed to. He fought tooth and nail to become a soldier, to claw his way up the ranks. His parents were proud of him. Proud that an Omega and a person of color could do what he did. Oh how he was hated by Alphas because he wouldn't roll over for them. Even in his heat, he wouldn't go to them. But he was also loved by many, even something to look up to. But then, there was a new project that opened up. The Shadow Project. The name of the project was obvious to the man. Make the subject a shadow so enemies can't spot you.

It would make the perfect soldier. The perfect killing machine to help in the wars over seas and on missions. He didn't have to do it. Didn't have to volunteer. But he wanted to. He needed to prove a point. If he could, he would have gone back in time and slapped his past self. What an idiot.

Louis didn't want this anymore. He didn't want to be in pain, the burning sensation of chemicals going through his veins. The feeling of his body breaking down and regenerating. It was mind numbingly painful. He hated it. He hated what his country was turning him into. He saw what the others had turned into. Monsters. Misshapen things that were once human. Their bodies mangled, skin an entirely different color, faces warped into something horrific.

Louis hoped he didn't turn into that, hoped that his body didn't morph into something monstrous. But with the chemicals that were pumped into his body and the pain he felt, he wished he did. He wished he did turn into that monster so he could die and be done with the pain. The was his body tore itself apart and came back together was excruciating. But, as time went on, as the months passed by, maybe even years, he learned to get used to the pain. He learned to push it down, deep down in the back of his head. He learned to be numb.

His lungs were constantly breaking down and regenerating, to the point it was hard for him to breath. They made him a special gas mask that used his own smoke- the way his body broke down looked like smoke- to have him breath properly. It didn't stop the way his lungs kept dying inside of him, but, it at least made it easier to breath. He didn't know a lot about The Shadow Project but he wished he had asked questions because he didn't know that they were going to make him into a literal shadow. A wraith if you want to be more specific. He didn't know how they did it. He didn't know what type of chemicals and cybernetics they put into his body. He should have cared, should have been worried. But, at this point, he just wanted it to end. He wanted it all to end.

He remembered walking down the long hall to one of the testing chambers, eyes dull and staring straight ahead. He had two soldiers on either side of him, Alphas he thinks. He was supposed to test out his shadow step to see if there needed to be improvements done. But the alarms started blaring and he heard the scientists yelling. He saw some running back and forth in the hall ahead of him. There was a large explosion that shook the place, making Louis and the guards stumble in place.

"What the hell is going on?!" He rasped out, voice muffled by the gas mask.

The explosion was muffled and sounded like it was coming from above. Soon, there were more explosions and the head scientist's voice came on "Everyone! Get to the bomb shelters! Get the experiments into the cryo pods! Quickly!"

It was all a blur as Louis was suddenly dragged down the many hall ways of the facility. The alarms were still blaring as Louis got dragged into the main Cryo Chamber room, scientists were quickly putting the 'perfect' subjects into the cryo pod. But he was put into the main one, at the end of the room. Like he would be watching over the others. The head scientist was standing in front of Louis as he was placed in the cryo pod.

"Everything will be okay. You will wake up soon and fight for this country."

Louis didn't fight back, glad this was happening so he wouldn't go through with the experiments. The thick glass door began to slowly close. The explosions became more intense, some rubble was beginning to fall from, the ceilings and yet the alarms kept going on. It seemed they were getting louder and louder. But the door finally closed with a hiss, everything was muffled. Hardly any sound was heard coming through. Only the blaring of the alarm could still be heard.

"The freezing process will start in 3..."

Louis felt his breathing begin to pick up, the wheezing and rasping of his breathing echoed loudly in the pod.

"2."

He saw the edges of the door begin to freeze over, the crystalized ice spiderwebbing across the glass. His body, which was was always so hot, began to cool down. He felt himself become cold. The temperature began to slowly drop.

And as the countdown came to an end, Louis closed his eyes and let out a deep sigh. He would be able to sleep without pain.

"1."

"The cryo pod will be opening in 3...2...1..."

The pod door hissed loudly, freezing cold carbon dioxide smoke creeped out of the bottom as the door began to slowly open.

"Please stand back."

Louis' eyes slowly fluttered open and he took a raspy breath, breathing in deeply. Louis fell forward and his body naturally turned into a thick cloud of bitch black smoke.

"Holy shit, L.T. You see what I'm seein'?"

His smoke felt hot to the touch and he groaned gently in discomfort as his body quickly formed back on the floor. Louis was on his hands and knees on the floor, panting softly. But with the gas mask he had on, it sounded like he was taking labored breaths.

"We have eyes on the target, Captain." Louis twitched lightly as he was finally becoming aware of his surroundings and heard people talking. He blinked his eyes a few times and with some effort, lifted his head from the floor. His eyes saw four pairs of feet standing in front of him, the glow from the pod making it easier to see. He blinked slowly as he mode his gaze up their bodies, seeing that they were men. One had a mohawk, tan skin with facial hair and beautiful blue eyes. They were wide with concern and awe. Louis looked at the other man and was surprised to see a skull looking back at him. But his brain was still foggy so he eventually realized that it wasn't an actual skull, but a mask.

Louis couldn't see any skin from him, he was fully covered up. From what Louis could see, the man in the skull mask had some kind of black paint around his eyes, making his blue eyes stand out more. Both men were large, but the one in the Ghost mask was massive and if Louis wasn't still out of it, he was be a little intimidated.

"Can you stand?" The one with the mohawk spoke and he had an odd accent. Sounding like Scottish. Louis glanced over at the man before slowly sitting back on his knees. "What...year is it?" He managed to get out, wincing as he cleared his throat, his lungs were dying and regenerating. It felt like he was breathing in shards of glass each second.

The one with the mohawk blinked in surprise "3055." Louis looked at the man in shock.

"W-what?" He rasped out and the one with the mohawk shifted in place, reaching up to rub a hand on his neck.

*That means I was in there for 33 years....!* He thought in shock as he breathed in sharply only to go into a coughing fit and hunched over on the floor. He heard shuffling before one of the guys kneeled down, placing a hand on Louis's back. Louis quickly reached up to take off his mask, still coughing and hacked up a glob of blood and a piece of his lung. He groaned in disgust as he took in deep breaths, feeling the hand slowly rubbing up and down his back.

"Fuck." He breathed out as he leaned back on his knees, letting his head fall back. His eyes were unfocused as he was still trying to come out of his stupor. He took a few more wheezing breaths and placed his mask back on, taking deep breaths of his own smoke. It helped a little with the pain.

"We need to go. Soap, carry him out of here." The skull man's voice was deep yet muffled by his mask and Soap, who was still kneeling beside Louis, nodded his head.

"Let's get you out of here." He muttered as he reached over to help Louis up and the redhead let him. He was tired and basically melted in the man's arms as he was carried out. As they moved down the halls, Louis could see that the once bright and clean facility was dark and dirty. There were cracks in the walls, rubble on the floor and he swore he saw a skeleton's hand underneath the caved in roof.

The two men were quiet as they moved down the halls and Louis couldn't help but relax in Soap's arms. It felt...nice to be carried. It felt nice to finally be awake again. But he knew the feeling wouldn't last long. The feeling of peace that he felt. His body was still waking up and once it was fully awake. He would be in constant pain. But for now, he enjoyed the peace.

[sofasoap]

Rodolfo "Rudy” Parra

Love at first sight  Has spring finally came for Rudy? Love at first sight - 2 Alejandro the wingman. Love at first sight-3 The realisation, the denial, realisation and heartache. Love at first sight -4 Unintentional exposures. leading to embarrassments. Love at first sight 5 You made up your mind. But the universe isn’t kind to you or Rudy.

Love at first sight 6 Finally letting your feelings known.

Love at first sight - Epilogue Two love birds finally got together. To the relief of everyone. Love at first sight - life and death Life doesn't always play a fair game. Love at first sight - life and death 2

Love at first sight - What if? What if you were the one that fell head over heel for Rudy first?

[sudzydemolition]

I made my oc that I'm reading the fic that @omegapropaganda made called burnt honey! Here's my Gallivan, my little cinnamon roll!

[bigassmoonchild]

The Hearing

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Reader

Word Count: 2.3k

The first four parts give context, but may not be required for this read.

Summary: Being stuck in hearing sucked. Especially when Price revealed things about yourself you hadn't even known, and now Ghost was unsure of the choices he'd been making.

Content Tags: Separation, Mentions of Violence, Mild Storybuilding, Scenting, Mentions of Possible Pregnancy, Ghost Walking Out, Ghost being Unsure, No Use of Y/N, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha! Ghost

A/N: This took me half of The Wolverine, 16 minutes of Hamilton and 12 episodes of Bluey to get through. No sex yet, but if y'all don't want the pregnancy ark do let me know. This series may be coming to an end soon, but that doesn't mean Doc is going away forever. As always, content under the cut and requests are open <3

P.S: I was going to adjust part of this, but I've figured out a way to extend this story a little further, so I'm removing it from being privately posted. My apologies!

Part 1 | Previous, Next | Headcannons, Masterlist

This keeps fucking happening. It took four months before you and Ghost got in trouble again. Instead of having each other, now you were stuck without the other. The rest of the 141 was busy smuggling items between yourself and Ghost, it finally having gotten out that the two of you were mated.

That you were an Omega.

You were removed from training your squad for the time being, currently being investigating for the incident that had happened. Too many times you had seen the same people for hearings. Too many times you were stuck sitting in the same room and looking among the same people.

"Can you explain to us how no one knew that Michael wasn't taking his suppressants?" Was the question posed to you.

You adjusted in your seat, smoothing down the pair of nice pants you'd thrown on and smelling the thick perfume you'd put on to block the distressed scent you'd been throwing off. "No one in the compound is capable of scenting other people, those abilities are blocked with the military grade suppressants we are given. Scents are also dulled with the suppressants, so no one would've been able to tell," you explained. Short and simple, not nearly as scientific as it should've been.

"And you couldn't tell? Being mated means off of suppressants, which means you should've been able to scent him."

"It takes a minimum of two days off suppressants for a scent to begin coming back and another week before the androstenone in an Alphas body to increase dangerously high. I was on leave for three weeks prior to the incident, so I had to have returned back to base at nearly the two week mark," you wanted to see Simon.

You each had a babysitter, swapping out in shifts so neither of you were unattended for more than five minutes. You'd began self-soothing, rubbing the gland on your wrist aggressively against your neck gland, the clothes you were receiving weekly from Price wasn't doing enough.

No matter what, you were still stuck in this god damn hearing. Until you could smell Simon. You spun in your seat, searching the general room for him, watching as he was led forward, taking a seat across the aisle from you.

"Now, Mr. Riley, what caused you to attack Michael?" You were still watching him, only his balaclava to protect his face from those around you. You could just barely see his side-profile, his hardly blinking eyes as he stared down the person questioning him.

He glanced briefly at you. "My Omega was being attacked, I could smell her distress from a few halls down so I was going to find out what was happening. I heard him screaming at her and threatening her life, so I did what I had to to protect her," he answered, no hesitation. They hummed and nodded, glancing at you before looking back to Simon.

God, he smelled so much better than his clothes.

"Doctor, please try and pay attention," you looked down into your lap, giving a small sorry before the hearing proceeded. "What caused Michael to attack you?" At this you had to pause. It all happened so fast and you'd shoved the memory to the back of your head.

"He wanted to get out of the squad, he didn't want a Doctor ordering him around. I assume Mr. Riley said something to him, as he was causing problems with the soldiers covering my squad while I was on leave. He tried to press for information regarding my relationship with the Lieutenant, but I wasn't going to allow him insight he didn't need to know," they were writing everything down, clacking of keyboards and scraping of pens and pencils against paper.

"Do tell us what happened next,"

Looking away, you had to take a deep breath. You could feel the panic setting back in. "I told him that he wouldn't be able to remain in the military or find a new branch if he left. He had too many infractions and I pulled his file to show him, and he lunged for it. Michael was trying to take his file from me, and he could smell I was an Omega. That's when I realized he was going feral," you picked at your fingers, not looking at the group of people as you tried to remember what happened.

They glanced back at their notes, speaking with each other for a moment. "How would you know he was going feral?"

"I have medical documents of my squad. I know when their last heat or rut was, and I decide when they go on leave to ensure they aren't on suppressants for too long that it becomes dangerous, such as what occurred between myself and my Alpha. The androstenone inside an Alpha increases, albeit being dormant, the longer suppressants are taken without a natural rut occurring," you explained. This was the easy part, the things you knew exactly the ins and outs of.

They nodded along with you, fingers still clacking on keyboards as you explained.

"Once someone stops taking suppressants, the androstenone becomes active again. The longer they go without the rut, the more that become active. If they don't rid themselves of the androstenone, it'll force them into ferality to keep the increasing hormones from severely hurting them," they interrupted you for a moment.

"What does ferality do for the Alpha?"

"It ensures that they mate with the nearest Omega in or out of heat to naturally expel the androstenone. If they don't, their rut gets worse and they begin to have different areas of the brain shut down until they are no more than an animal, looking for the next thing to breed," you explained. "Most cases are euthanized, to ensure they don't suffer for long," you added, ensuring they would understand why it was so dangerous.

You had zoned out once they began talking with Simon again. His scent was washing over you every now and again as the AC unit blew cooler air into the room. This room had no windows and was in the middle of the building so they installed AC's for the stifling summer, which meant scents were wafting around with each other and mixing.

But Simons? It was amazing, being able to get it damn near straight from the source. You were waiting for all of this to be over so you could crawl into your nest with Simon. Your heat had been due a week ago, but with the proceedings dragging on you had been far to stressed for your body to allow it to happen.

And you could feel it building within you. You were exhausted all the time, eating more and building a larger nest, moving things in your room around. Now that you had your Alpha near you, you could feel your mind slowly slipping away from you.

You had to think harder, trying to remember how long ago your heat was and when you had to expect it. To be honest, you didn't really want to think that hard right now. You were still exhausted, you didn't get much sleep, considering you'd been without your Alpha for weeks now.

"That should wrap today up, we'll reconvene tomorrow. Same time and location, we'll review what we have learned from you two and Michael and give you our final decision in one week. For now, you two will stay separated and we'll have people watching to ensure you don't meet up," you wanted to argue. So badly, you wanted to tell them that he was your Alpha and he was supposed to be with you.

Even then, you knew that they wouldn't rescind their decision. You watched as Simon was led out, giving you one more look before leaving.

"Listen, kid, I'm really sorry," Price leaned in next to you, whispering as you waited for Simon to get far enough away that you could leave as well without possibly getting in trouble. "I know another week is going to be hard on you," he looked away.

You sighed, leaning back. "It's no harder than the first few weeks mated to him. The only problem is my heat isn't coming and I'm past due," he gave you a weird look before nodding with you.

Standing up, he gestured for you to follow him. You stood and followed him out, allowing him to lead you back to your room. It stayed quiet between the two of you, you figured he was deep in thought and you were just thinking about the nap you were gonna take in your nest.

Quite the exciting life you held now, being stuck back in hearings. You could only do paperwork and most of the work for the week you'd finish right away. It was so boring, the task force only being able to come by every now and again.

When you walked in, he handed you a bag. You looked down and back up at him, brows furrowed. Price gave you a smile and walked back out, the door shutting behind him. You sat on your bed, running your hands down your face and sighing deeply.

You reached into the bag, pulling out another of Simons hoodies. The amount you had at this point made you wonder if he had any left, just about the entirety of your nest was made out of his shirts and hoodies. The scents on some of them were fading, but you didn't remove them just yet.

Without him to be in the nest with you, the scents were fading quicker and quicker. You hated it. You had grown accustomed to having him scenting you at night and before he had to leave in the morning, him remarking your gland every now and again when you were able to.

Moving to throw the bag in the bag of bags, you felt something move inside it with your movements. Setting it back down, you opened it to look inside.

A pregnancy test.

"Price!" You shouted, his office door slamming open. You were heaving, having run straight to his office after finding his last little gift. "What the hell?"

He looked away, rubbing the back of his neck. "I was talking to my own Omega and they mentioned giving you one. A lot of the symptoms you'd been mentioning had lined up with their own pregnancy. You don't have to use it, obviously, I just figured you'd want it," you stopped to think.

How had you been exhibiting all the signs of a pregnant Omega and yet you'd been unable to recognize it? You were a bloody biologist, so you'd already known exactly what the signs were. Intense nesting urges, increased eating, increased amounts of sleep.

Jesus, were you pregnant? Maybe you should take the test, just to be sure. Price opened his mouth to say something before shaking his head and going back to his paperwork. You were going to pester him about what he was going to say, but you didn't.

"You could get this hearing pushed off if you're pregnant. They'll consider it an Alpha protecting his pup. You didn't hear this from me,"

The next day Simon was back where he'd been sitting, in the back of the hearing room waiting for them to call him forward. He could see you, some rows ahead of him. Your scent had become more delectable to him over the last few weeks, even if he hadn't been able to smell you directly.

The rest of the task force was playing a dangerous game, smuggling items between the two of you. He knew that, if caught, they could be put on a probationary leave and investigated to figure out if it was more than just items.

Simon watched as you stood from your seat, hands folded in front of you. He could smell you better than when you'd been sitting, the scent sweetening to something he couldn't explain.

All he wanted to do was scent mark you and hold you in your nest, maybe find you some food and feed you. What the hell was up with him? He'd been stalking as close to your room as he could get, snarling at every Alpha who walked near.

"I haven't made you aware yet, but I have been in for a pregnancy test," everyone went silent and Simons eyes widened. "The results should be coming in another day or two, depending on who will be finalizing them. I'd like to request that the current predicament be pushed back so my mate and I can speak about possibilities," he watched as the group leading the hearing leaned together to speak and his eyes never left you.

He could smell your distress from where he was, and he could feel his heart hammering in his chest. Pregnant? He thought you'd been on birth control, even if it you'd still gone through your heats.

To be honest, Simon was terrified. A father? Him? All he could do was walk out, even if he heard his name come from you and your scent changing sharply. Winding through the halls, he found himself walking outside with a cigarette lit, the slight burn as he inhaled the smoke.

Neither of you had talked about this. You'd been mated for a few months, not even hitting a year yet and prior to that you'd only spoken professionally. He knew you, but you hadn't even shared a room yet.

Was he wrong? For biting you, when neither of you had agreed upon being mated. For getting the two of you in that situation in the first place, he should've been the one who had gone and swept the building to make sure everyone was safe.

Simon knew exactly where his life would be had the two of you not been stuck in that situation. He'd never imagined his life moving this way and it terrified him. He was almost... regretting the choices he'd made.

Regretting mating with you.

Next

[blitz3--0]

𝙸𝚗𝚝𝚛𝚘𝚍𝚞𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗

Hello Im Blitz! I use He/It/Xey pronouns and please respect and use them or just leave. I'm a minor who is an artist and writer! I have my own world that I create and will post about here.

What I will write

Romance

Oc's x CC, Oc x Oc, Cc x Cc

Fluff

Angst

Platonic

Drabbles

Headcannons

Imagines

GN! Readers that includes Trans and Nb readers as well. If your a cis woman please fuck off you have 80-85% of fanfics.

Fandoms I Will Write

MW2 (141, Los Vaqueros, König, Horangi Oc's)

Haikyuu (Karasuno, Aba Josai, Nekoma all aged up)

JJK (Gojo, Nanami, Itadori, Nobara, Megumi, Mai + Mei, Panda, Inumaki, all aged up)

YOI (Viktor, Yuri, Yurio, Otabek)

OHSHC (Kyoya, Tamaki, Haruhi, Mori, Honey, all aged up)

Penumbra Podcast (Juno Steel, Peter Nureyev, more as I get more into the Series)

Spider verse (Miguel, Gwen, Miles, Peter.B)

TMA (John, Martin, Tim, Sasha, Elias, Peter Lucas, Micheal Shelly, Oliver Banks, Georgie, Basira, Melanie, Daisy, Breekon +Hope)

Doctor Who (9th, 10th, 11th, 12th, 13th, Rose, Donna, Clara, Martha, Jack Harkness, Amy)

What I Will Not Write

Smut

Self unaliving

S/H

Period stuff

Incest

Pedophilia

Fandoms I Won't Write

WTNV(haven't seen enough)

MHA

DSMP

I will add more as time goes on

I Will Refuse Any And All Requests That I Feel Uncomfortable And Disagree With Spamming Requests Will Get You Blocked Please Be Respectful As I Am A Full Time Student With Extracurricular Activities. Thank You!

[miss-vanta-likes-to-write]

Loyalties chapter 15

Loyaties Master List

A.N: short one because this is a double post.

CW: please check main master list. MDNI

It was day two of her being at their home. Bambi was mostly sure that her work was piling up back at her own home. She had watched her Instagram stories of Symphony and Gloria complaining about a rather distressing gift that Sophia and Ananiah had gotten. Their godfather König had purchased both girls a brand new set of paintball guns, all of them quite real looking. The guns were engraved with their names and flowers. Both mothers were sick but didn't take the guns away.

“I swear he's such an ass.” Bambi grumbled from her spot on the couch.

“Wots up Bonnie?” Johnny was laying with his head in her lap, “who's an arse?”

“König…he gave my nieces four paintball guns a piece with the idea of teaching them how to handle a gun.” She rolls her eyes, “This won't cause issues down the line. They are fucking seven.”

Johnny does not offer his normal quips that she's come to know and love. Instead his blue eyes become cold and he lets out a low growl. “Don' say his name ‘round us.”

“Excuse me?” She says.

“Don' say his name ‘round us, Bambi.” He repeats as if he didn't say something outlandish.

She sighs, not really wanting to argue and just goes back to her phone. “Okay. But like it our not he is associated with my brother and for some fucking reason Xavier insists on having him around.”

“If ye donnae like it so much then move in with us.” Johnny sits up and smiles, “Yea, there's more than enough room for ye, Bonnie!”

She looked at him and frowned, “It's not right to put my nest in y'alls den without me being marked.”

“Ye ‘ready slept wit us and did sex stuff wit us multiple times. Why would it matter?” He grabbed her hands and held them. “If ye wanna, ye can have my room and put yur nest there, and I'll just move in wit Si.” His blue eyes and pleading pout almost made her say yes.

“No, Malik would strangle me. Besides, it hasn't even been a full month yet. Leaving a nest here just…” She looks away from him and refuses to say much more.

The front door swings open, ending the serious moment for the time being. There's no doubt between the both of them that this conversation will be brought up behind a closed door with John, Simon and Kyle, and Johnny won't hold back anything. The three alphas are returning from a grocery run, wanting to stock the house up with more snacks and foods that Bambi enjoys. They are laughing together, John is holding Kyle's hand, fingers interlocked. Simon walks by the couch and places his forehead against hers in greeting and he does the same to Johnny.

For a moment she's transported to a much simpler time that was also dark around the edges. She catches a glimpse of sandy hair and short baby dreadlocks when she watches John and Kyle. Her mind is playing tricks on her and she's not enchanted at all. Her skin becomes clammy as she watches them. She knew they were close, and had seen them kiss each other in the heat of their more sexual moments. Had no problem with it at all, but she at least wants to know if that is what this courtship is.

The reality is, this is a pack she's coming into. A pack of alphas that have moved their relationships beyond the standard ‘Forced Association.’ that the military packs had. These four loved each other and she hopes she's not their secret keeper. She hopes deep down that they don't want her so they won't get the odd or disapproving stares. Everyone knows what unmated alphas get into, especially a group of them. It's as bad as when a group of omegas won't let an alpha near them and actively seek out betas. Never mind those who are bitched or studded or altered in any way.

Fuck. Even her scent, undeniably an omega’s scent clings to all of them. People, outsiders know that they aren't a taboo pack of just alphas rutting each other without a care about their natural biology. She suddenly wants to be anywhere but here for a week.

“You okay?” Kyle asks her, he leans over her and presses his face into her neck and kisses her scent gland. “You look tense, Soap hasn't been annoying you has he?” His voice is soft with concern and those sweet brown eyes of his are smitten.

She shivers and looks at him, “It's nothing beloved.” She calls him that now, it slipped once and he has preened each and every time that she calls him that. He won't even answer unless it's her calling him beloved. “Johnny wants me to make a nest here.” They may as well have this talk now, she doesn't want them talking about her or a nest behind closed doors.

John sits down in his recliner, clips the end of his cigar, “Do you want to Sweetheart?”

“No, I don't.”

“Bonnie thinks it's inappropriate.” Johnny says instantly. “Tell her it's not.”

“It's extremely intimate.” John hums in thought, “putting a nest in a den conveys a level of trust and intimacy that we're working towards.”

Bambi nods along with a haughty little smirk, “Exactly. Ask again in two months.”

Johnny only grumbles and flops back into her lap, “But where we gonnae ‘elp ye wit ye heat?” He whines and his accent almost makes what he says unintelligible.

Simon comes out of the kitchen from putting away the groceries and is fully conveniently ready to participate in this conversation. Kyle nods his head agreeing with his pack mate, it was clearly something that they expected to help with in the future. John just silently puffed on his cigar waiting for her to speak first. And honestly she could and should say ‘Fuck you and your strategizing John’ because she sees that silence for what it is. It's equally attractive and irritating at the same time, but she knows alphas like that, Antony was the best of them.

But Carrie could read a room and turn anything into her favor with the batting of her lashes and a well placed pout. It's what worked when she had to be subtle about her own manipulations and make it seem like every thought that Antony had when it came to the den and the home was his idea. Bambi was her mother's daughter first and foremost.

“Well,” Bambi laughs and looks at each one of them, “my heat happens every five to six weeks when it's regular. I take relaxants to ease the onset symptoms and I know how to sweat it out for the six days I'm indisposed.” She shrugs, “Maybe I don't need help.”

“That can't be healthy or comfortable.” Simon says, and he knows he's right. He eats suppressants for breakfast, lunch, and dinner the week before a rut, and he is cuffed and tied down so Johnny can help without being hurt.

“You speak from experience Si?” She raises an eyebrow and starts playing in Johnny's hair.

“Yes.” He answers back, “are you worried we'll mark you?”

“No. I'm not, when we do cross that bridge and if I want your help, I'll wear a collar, I have one that's already fitted.” She doesn't miss how each one of them tenses up at that statement.

“We'll get you a new one.” John says with a smile, “it'll be fun and sweet making one together, it'll mean much more when you let us take care of you without it on.”

The message is glaringly clear, ‘We won't tolerate any signs of a past alpha who has had you.’

“But that's a conversation for later.” John grins, the tension in the air is gone just because he commanded it to leave. “Tomorrow we are going out and it's a surprise that Simon and I put together.”

Johnny and Kyle perk up like excited pups and Bambi just commends John silently for his clear display of control over the mood in the house. It's a skill that comes with time, something that happens when you've earned rank as a lead alpha.

She thinks it's unbearably attractive and her omega agrees. So she tucks herself into the lighter atmosphere, leaning into Kyle's kisses on her neck and plays with Johnny's hair. She knows full well the next time the talk of the nest comes up…she's gotta have a stronger argument other than, ‘it's not appropriate.’

Tag list: @curiouslittleprincess @leahnicole1219

[oliautumn-electric-boogaloo]

I'm finally caught up! Omg! This fic is really good. I spent like a week binge reading it. I'm not kidding when I say it was 2am when I finished reading this. I'm really excited to see this fic continue!

Cherry Red, Crimson Blood

Chapter 32: The Tragedy

Summary: Don't trust anyone. That's the advice you were left with. How much should you follow that advice? How much will you have to follow it?

Pairings: Poly 141 x reader

Word Count: 8,058 words

Warnings: ANGST, heavy emotional turmoil, very detailed descriptions of depression, ANGST, panic attacks, lots of thoughts of death and crisis, distrust, anxiety, ANGST, Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, Alternate Universe, a/b/o typical classism and sexism, language, ANGST, betrayal, weapons, guns, blood (barely), brief violence at the end, drugging (more sedation than anything), ANGST, hurt/no comfort, incorrect medical stuff again, oh and ANGST

A/N: Sorry

MASTERLIST | <- Previous | Next ->

The world is painted in grey as you stare at the wall. Your eyes trace over the pencil lines on the paper as if it might bring you some sort of comfort, as if it might bring them back to you. 

Johnny put the drawings up after your heat, ones he'd done while watching over you as you slept the days away. Strawberries, rolling hills, you asleep in a field of flowers. Visages of the outside world, a place that seems almost foreign to you. 

Despite their absence you're still a prisoner, still locked in your tower. Dr. Keller is your guard now, dutifully watching over you as she had promised Simon and Johnny she would. She’s done it successfully before, or at least she was as successful as you allowed her to be, as you had kept her in the dark just as much as your pack. Obviously they trusted that she hadn’t known, otherwise they wouldn’t have left you here with her. 

It’s not like they had much of a choice. 

She's moved into the spare room temporarily so you're not alone. Your pack's barracks are far more spacious than her own room in the barracks with the rest of the medical staff. You almost wish you'd gone to stay with her. Anything would be better than your grey prison. 

You get to leave now, only long enough to walk to the mess and back, and occasionally to the med center. You don’t get to eat in the mess, staying just long enough to grab food before you’re ushered back to your grey prison. You've gone to Dr. Keller's office twice, but even then it had been a short stop so she could grab some paperwork before you returned to the barracks.

The grey and white of your home has never affected you in such a way before. You've been able to look past the sterile halls and prison grey walls of the rooms until now, until you’ve become a bit stir-crazy. You’re afraid you might actually go crazy, driven to insanity in your isolation. 

There's been no word on when your pack might return. There's been no word at all from them.

For all you know, they’re dead. 

You've gone numb to that thought, the tears not even stinging at your eyes at the idea. You're empty, the only thing you're capable of feeling is the steady churning of your stomach. It's been two months since you revealed the cameras and you're still sick, still in pain. 

What if they don't come back because they hate you? What if they've abandoned you here? 

You're not sure you could even react to that if it does happen. You can’t even react to the thought of it happening. There’s no drive to, no instinct to be upset by the idea of being abandoned. For all you know it’s already happened. 

You turn over onto your other side, facing the room. It’s Johnny’s room you’re in, the most welcome place in the barracks. It’s the place you spent the most time before they left, isolated just to Johnny’s arms by Simon’s anger at your betrayal. He’d only cared for you out of necessity, the progress you made with him all wiped out because of your own stupidity. 

Those thoughts don’t even bring a tear to your eye anymore. He never wanted you, he wouldn’t have chosen you. 

So why did it hurt so much? 

Dr. Keller is worried, but it's her job to be worried. You've shut down, shut out everything. You're not capable of much more than laying around numb and depressed. The scents are fading, quickly disappearing and being replaced by the bitter scent of your depression. 

Depression. That's what Dr. Keller said. Not surprising given the circumstances. You're not surprised either. Then again, you can't feel much of anything anymore. There’s no hope left, the memories of them fading as fast as their scents. They’ve moved on, or they’ve died. Regardless, they’re not coming back. 

You’re alone again, abandoned by those you loved, those supposed to take care of you. 

You can only count leaves on the plant hanging from the ceiling of Dr. Keller’s office so many times. You’ve given up sitting, instead curled up in a ball as you stare at the plant, counting leaves up and down the vines. Dr. Keller is at her desk, writing and shuffling papers, doing what she normally does during the day. Doing what she had last time you had been left alone. 

She had the idea that leaving the barracks might be good for you. A change of scenery, a more comfortable and warm setting, might help your depression. Escaping the oppressive grey walls of your prison for some fresh air might aid in her efforts to help you wallow less in your misery. Being free of the suffocating walls of the barracks might help free you from the constant memories of what was, what might have been, what’s left you behind. 

Your stomach still hurts. The ache had intensified as soon as they told you they were leaving too, that John and Kyle were so desperate for backup they had to call everyone in. It had made you uneasy, the idea of being alone so soon after everything, the idea that things might be going so badly that they need help. The memory of what had transpired while you were alone the first time makes you nervous. 

What if it happens again?

What if something worse happens? 

You won’t be stupid this time, you told yourself. If anything is off, you’ll notify Dr. Keller immediately. You’re not making that mistake again. If you did make that mistake, the consequences wouldn’t just be dealt out by whoever is so desperate to get to you, to watch you. Your pack will leave you, will mark you as untrustworthy and give you up, or worse, throw you in a cell until you can be sent back home, back to the institute. Maybe they would be merciful and send you back to the CIA. What would the CIA do though? They couldn’t send you to another pack, not in the initiative, not with you already having been claimed. They wouldn’t take that risk when the severing of those bonds would destroy you and everything that you are. 

Maybe if you’re lucky, it’ll kill you. Save you from the pain and mental anguish after the severing of a bond. 

“Hungry?” Dr. Keller asks. It’s close to lunch, you think. Time is meaningless, the only routine you have left the necessary mealtimes Dr. Keller insists on keeping. Even then, if it wasn’t for her, you wouldn’t know when those were supposed to be. 

“No.” You murmur, still staring at the plant. The leaves have begun to blur, blending together as your eyes unfocus. 

“You should eat.” She says. 

“Not hungry.” You say. “Stomach hurts.” 

She sighs softly, pushing her chair back before walking over to you. She drops to a knee in front of the couch, staring at you. “How long has it been hurting?” 

“Weeks.” You say, still not looking at her. 

“Weeks?” She sounds surprised. “You didn’t say anything. Nausea? Any headaches?” She asks. 

“Uh huh.” You nod.

“Any fever, body aches, congestion, dizziness?” She asks. 

“Body aches.” You say, finally looking up at her. 

She hums, staring at you for a moment. Her face is the usual clinical mask she wears when she’s in doctor mode, but you can make out the slight furrow of her brow as she thinks. She puts a hand on your forehead, your skin cold instead of the warmth it would usually have. Even you’ve noticed it in your numb state, your fingers and toes aching constantly from how cold they are. 

She removes her hand, letting out a quiet breath. “Well, my dear.” She says, staring down at you. “I’m diagnosing you with stress.” She says, resting her arms on her knee. “It’s been a long few weeks, and then with your alpha leaving on top of it, I’m not surprised by your symptoms. I know you may not feel like it, but eating will help. You’ll be no good to your pack when they return if you’re wasting away.” 

“If they return.” You say, not even able to sound worried like you did last time. There’s no tears, no panic, not even a hint of worry. 

“They will.” She says, pushing herself up to stand. “They know what they’re doing and all we can do is trust their skills.” 

“Yeah, yeah.” You murmur, taking her offered hand to get yourself up off the couch. You’ve heard it a thousand times. “I know.” 

“Come on,” She says, giving you a smile. “Let’s get some lunch and then we can eat in the barracks again. Watch some dumb daytime TV show for a while.” 

“Yeah.” You say, trying to sound excited as you follow her out the door. It’s been your routine for weeks. You’re growing sick of it, but what else is there to do? Read? Sleep? Lay numbly in bed staring at the ceiling until it blurs together or until you inevitably pass out from exhaustion? 

Your life has become sad and pathetic, and it’s all your fault. 

The days continue to drag on, every one without a single word of your pack driving you deeper and deeper into the hole you’ve already sunk into. You’re not drowning anymore, not clawing desperately to the surface, praying you can cling to hope long enough to drag yourself out of the depression. Now you’re just sinking, letting the weight of your numbness drag you down until the pressure becomes too much and you implode. 

You miss them so badly it hurts. 

Do they miss you? Do they think about you? Have they even thought about you? Did John and Kyle ask about you when Johnny and Simon arrived? What did they ask about? What did they say? 

Or perhaps they just mutually agreed this was the opportunity to leave you, the chance to move on and make the job 100% of their lives again. No more worry, no more stress, no more distraction, no more needy omega clinging to them every minute of every day. 

Maybe you should have been less needy, less reliant. Maybe you shouldn’t have gotten so close. It would at least have been easier on you. The job comes first. Why couldn’t you have kept yourself under that rule, distanced yourself to make this pain less severe? 

Why didn’t you just tell them right away? 

“How are you doing over there?” Dr. Keller’s voice breaks through the endless haze of thoughts. 

You’re in the rec room with her, your most frequented place over the last few weeks. You might as well have moved in there. It would almost be better than the four places that only serve as constant reminders of what is gone. You could sleep in your room, but it’s been tainted, ruined. It’s not safe anymore. Even with your pack you hadn’t felt comfortable to be in there longer than it took to grab clothes. 

“They left me.” You say quietly, voice muffled by the pillow your face is pressed into. You’re on your stomach on the couch, a blanket thrown over your back. 

“Not by any choice of theirs.” She says. She’s sitting in the chair, Simon’s chair, but you can’t bring yourself to tell her. He’s gone. It’s not his place anymore. 

“They’re not coming back.” You say, fingers digging into the front of your sweatshirt where they’re tucked under you. 

“You don’t know that.” Dr. Keller says, closing her book. “Those men would fight from the brink of death to make it back to you.” 

“They hate me.” You say, nails digging into your palms from how tightly you’re gripping the fabric. 

“They don’t hate you.” She says softly. “They may have been a bit upset, but they’d never hate you.” 

“Simon does.” 

She lets out a quiet laugh. “Lieutenant Riley is his own beast.” She pushes herself up to stand, taking a seat on the edge of the couch next to you. “He’s in his head just as much as you are. In my professional opinion, he could use some therapy as well. Some extensive therapy.” Her hand comes to rest on your back, rubbing it gently.

You’re thrown back to the times you were sick when your mother would rub your back, almost as if she was trying to ease the sickness away. You are sick. Sick in your own grief and disappointment and anger with yourself. The depression is its own sickness eating away at you. You’re not even sure your pack’s return could cure it now. You might be too far gone, your brain too convinced that they’re not coming back that you won’t believe it when they do. They won’t return for you, they won’t be happy to see you. They won’t be real. 

Dr. Keller lets out a quiet sigh. “I don’t think any of them are capable of hating you. Even Lieutenant Riley. They love you too much to abandon you like that. I don’t think they’re capable of abandoning you at all. I’m sure they’re just as worried, just as eager to get back here.” 

She pats your back before holding her hand still. It’s warm through the fabric of your sweatshirt. It’s almost comforting, almost seeping through the chill that’s taken over you despite the warm summer air outside. 

“I’m sorry you have to go through this.” She continues, her voice soft and laced with emotion. “I’m sorry this is happening to you. You don’t deserve it. It’s not good for you mentally or physically. It’s downright cruel. I thought maybe at first that you’d be taken care of, that you’d be taken into consideration as much as they are.” She scoffs. “I was stupid to think they’d ever give an omega the decency of being considered a human being.” 

Her voice is determined, almost angry. She’s not angry at you, she’s angry at the program, at the initiative, at those above you making the decision, pulling the strings, controlling every part of your pack. You can almost feel it, the passion, the compassion for omegas that she carries. She knows firsthand what it’s like. Even before she became a specialist she knew. She could have presented as an omega herself. Instead she was blessed with presenting as a beta, able to be seen as a human being, able to have rights and make decisions for herself. 

“I’m not going to give up on you.” She pats your back gently. “Once your pack returns, I think we need to have a long discussion about the future of this initiative.” 

“Are they going to take me away?” You ask. 

“No.” Dr. Keller says. “Your pack will fight for you. I will fight for you. But this isn’t good for you. It’s making you sick. I’m worried about what might happen if it continues.” 

You slide your arms up, wrapping them around your pillow. “They’re not going to give it up, their jobs. They won’t. I hate it.” The words come tumbling out before you can stop them. “I hate that they don’t put me first. I hate that they have to hide things from me, keep things from me. Why is it fair that they can keep things that might put me in danger hidden, but I can’t do it without them getting mad at me? I hate that they have to leave, that they can just leave so easily. I hate their job, I hate what they do when they’re away. I hate them sometimes because they don’t even think twice about hurting me.” The nausea churns in your stomach, threatening to rise again. “It hurts a-and t’s not fair!” 

Dr. Keller shushes you gently as you press your face down into the pillow, tears pricking at your eyes for the first time in almost two weeks. “I know. The CIA should have had an omega expert in on this from the start. There should have been someone that could advocate for the omegas they want to throw into these positions. I hate this too, what they do to you, what they put you through,” Her voice goes quiet, so quiet you almost can’t hear it. “What they will put you through.” She runs a hand over the back of your head, trying to soothe you. “All we can do is cling to the hope that word will come in soon that your pack is on their way home.” 

You want to believe her. You want to believe she’s telling the truth, that they will be coming home. You want to have that hope, but hope has long faded from your mind. You don’t have hope anymore, as much as she tries to instill it in you. 

The days continue to drag on. There’s been no word on their status, no calls, not even a text. Dr. Keller has tried to get ahold of Kate, but she’s been unsuccessful. It hurts. You feel abandoned, even by those that were supposed to be available, those that were supposed to help you. It all feels wrong. There’s something happening. You can feel it. 

Something is changing, something is ticking at the back of your neck. It could just be the paranoia, the fear, the unease brought on by the isolation and the separation from your pack. It’s not normal. Johnny and Simon promised they’d do everything in their power to get a hold of you when they can. 

Unless they can’t. 

What if they’ve been trying but no messages are getting through? What if there’s something along the line blocking them? What if there’s someone purposefully keeping those messages from coming through? Purposefully isolating you from your pack. 

The thought has a chill running down your spine. There’s things happening behind the scenes you can’t even fathom. Things beyond you, things beyond Dr. Keller and even John. Someone had those cameras put up. Someone was watching you, even after you found them and hid them. Someone wanted to see you, wanted to watch you with your pack. 

Why? 

It all seems too coincidental. John and Kyle being called away and then Johnny and Simon weeks later, isolating you from your pack. No word has been coming through, possibly no word from anyone getting to them. They won’t know what state you’re in, they won’t know something is wrong. If anything happened to you, they wouldn’t know. They’d have no idea until it was possibly too late. 

You’ve been isolated on purpose. 

All five of you. 

What if it’s Kate? 

You don’t want to believe it. You don’t want to even think about it. Who has contact with them during their missions, though? Who has been in control of relaying messages back and forth to everyone? Would she do it? Was she capable of such betrayal? John trusts her more than anyone besides the members of your pack. They’ve known each other for a long time, why would she betray them like this? 

You can’t trust anyone. 

The nausea churns in your stomach, threatening to choke you for a different reason this time. You’re beginning to panic, and while it’s nice to finally feel something, this is almost worse. You’d prefer the numbing depression, the emptiness, the inability to think. This is worse. It’s so much worse. 

So many thoughts are flying around in your head, your stomach aching as you begin to panic. You’re not safe. You’re not safe here alone, not even with Dr. Keller. There’s too many chances. You’re too open and exposed. 

You can’t trust anyone. 

What if your pack is in on it? What if they were responsible for all of this? What if they knew Shepherd was coming and hid it from you on purpose? What if they had the cameras put up to watch what you do when they’re away? What if they’ve been surveying you to report to the higher ups about your progress and the initiative? 

What if they pretended they didn’t know to see how long you’d hide it, how you’d take it if they were upset at you, how far they could push you before you’d crumble? 

What if they left on purpose to make you crumble?

You can’t verify it. You can’t even know if those orders were real, if they ever came in. You’ll never know because you can’t because they have to keep you safe. What if Kate doesn’t even know they’re gone? What if they’re sitting in a pub in Hereford watching you fall apart at the seams? You want to leave, you want to run there, comb every inch of town just to find them and scream at them. What if they’re too cowardly to force you out themselves? What if they want you to leave, and they’re pushing you to the point you want to?

“Hey,” Dr. Keller kneels in front of you, her hands on your shoulders. “I need you to breathe for me.” 

You stare at her face, the furrow of her brow, the worry in her kind eyes. You feel sick, your stomach churning. You want to vomit, you want to puke up all the worry and the depression and the stress. You want it all to be over with, you want it all to end. 

“Come on.” She says, squeezing your shoulders tighter. “In and out, nice and slow.” 

You can’t. You can’t breathe. The world is falling apart around you and there’s nothing you can do about it. Your breaths catch in your throat, stuttering as your lungs spasm. You’re beginning to tense, your joints locking into place. It’s not all that different from a few weeks ago in the rec room with Simon as you panicked. 

Only there’s no alpha to help you this time. 

“Come on.” Dr. Keller says, hauling you to your feet. It’s like trying to move a mannequin, your joints locked into place, dead weight as she half drags you down the hall and into one of the exam rooms. She manages it, stronger than you thought as she moves you easily into the private room. It’s the one you spent your heat in, still set up just like it had been then.

She gets you into a chair, wheeling over the oxygen. It’s cold as it hits your face, a clammy sweat covering your skin. Your hands close around the arms of the chair, fingers clenching until they pop and ache, shaking from the force but you can’t let go. You cling to the chair like it’s the last thing keeping you sane, keeping you in place, keeping you from floating away. 

Maybe then they’ll come back. Maybe then they’ll feel guilty for doing this to you. 

Dr. Keller approaches with a syringe, wheeling the tray closer before setting it on top. You stare at it, tears slipping around the mask before dripping onto your chest. “It’s a sedative.” She says, putting a damp paper towel on the back of your neck. It’s cold, still dripping water. “If you go into distress, our only option is to put you under and hope it calms your brain fast enough that you’re not going to lose yourself to your omega.” 

You almost wish she’d let you. It would be an easier end than finding out your pack was involved in all of this. You’d fade away, let your omega take over until the toll was too great on your body and you died before you even knew what happened. 

It almost sounds blissful right now. 

“Easy.” Dr. Keller says, cupping your face. “Don’t think too much. That’s just going to send you spiraling even more.” 

If only it was that easy.

She gently peels your fingers from the arms of the chair, crossing your arms over your chest. Your hands close around your arms, squeezing until it hurts, until you’re sure you’re going to have bruises. It’s a comforting position though, even without anything pressed against your chest. 

You miss your bear. You miss having John wrapped around you, offering you comfort only he can. You want him back, you want to be in his arms again. You want your safe space back, your nest, your pillows and stuffed animals. You want your alpha no matter what. Even if he is behind this or not, if he’s involved, you don’t care. You need your alpha again. 

The air in your lungs rattles as Dr. Keller replaces the paper towel on your neck. It drips down your back, sliding down your spine. Goosebumps rise on your skin but it begins to calm you, shocking your system out of the edges of distress it had been rapidly falling towards. It makes you miss being numb. Numbness was at least better than the dangerously high panic of distress. 

You can’t even be stressed without being in danger of your own body. 

The churning in your stomach intensifies and you rip the oxygen mask off, bending forward as you take deep breaths. You don’t want to vomit, especially not on Dr. Keller’s nice shoes. Your hands grip the arms of the chair again, eyes squeezing closed as you breathe. 

“Good.” She says, rubbing your back. “Keep breathing like that.” 

She steps away for a moment to grab another wet paper towel as you continue to focus on your breathing, in and out. You pretend John is there, breathing with you slow and even. You can hear it in his chest, feel the rise and fall as he inhales and exhales with you. The steadiness of his heartbeat that never seems to raise, even when he’s stressed, thumps under your ear. He’s always so calm, always so aware, always so capable of acting even in the most stressful situation. 

A strength he possesses thanks to his job. 

“I miss my alpha.” You whimper as your joints begin to unlock, muscles relaxing. 

“I know.” She says, replacing the cold paper towel. She squeezes the back of your neck gently for a moment, sending a cascade of cold water that soaks into your shirt before she releases you. Something prickles in the back of your mind as she moves her hand, the back of your neck tingling and not from the cold. 

You continue to breathe deeply, the hitch in your lungs slowly lessening until it's gone, the air flowing in and out evenly. The air in the room is cold, only made worse by the sweat on your skin. You’re trembling, the effects of the almost distress coming down, leaving you a mess. More of a mess than you had just been. 

“I just want him back.” You croak out, the tears still falling. 

“I know.” She repeats, easing you back so you’re reclined back in the chair. She stares at you for a moment, chewing on her lip before she nods. “I’m going to make a few calls.” 

The days continue to go by in a haze. You’re not sure what to think anymore, the numbness  and stress battling in your brain for control. The near distress you went into has left you exhausted and burnt out, yet your thoughts won’t let you relax. You just want your alpha, the need sinking deep into your bones, nearly consuming you now. 

It’s getting colder, Fall making its rapid approach. A couple short months and it’ll mark a year since your arrival, a year since this entire thing started, since you joined your new pack. To think it might not even last a year. That was the point, though, to test if it would work and how long it would work. 

Less than a year. Hope you’re happy with those results. 

It’s windy today, blowing hard enough you can hear it inside the barracks. The whooshing as the air hits the side of the building, being forced over the top of the immovable object in its path. It’s grey outside too, the sky cloudy. It might rain, though it’s hard to tell. It’s been grey for the last couple days, the weather always seeming to be in tune with your emotions. 

You’re seated on Johnny’s bed, knees pulled up to your chest. It’s been so long since you’ve seen your packmates, since you’ve seen your alpha. They almost feel like a distant memory, thoughts of them floating around the empty barracks like a ghost, haunting your mind. All of them seem like ghosts now. You’re scared you’ll forget what they look like, what they smell like, what they sound like. Your brain is being clouded by your own roiling emotions, slamming up against the sides of your brain like the wind outside. 

It’s confusing, the violent rocking of your mind between numbness and stress in the storm that’s raging in your amygdala. It would be nice if it could pick one, choose a direction and send you head on into the storm or the doldrums. You want the numbness back, the clouding of your thoughts, the slowing of your body to a crawl. It would be a relief over the alternative point where you risk distress every minute. 

There’s no help for you. 

“Ready?” Dr. Keller’s voice sounds through the door as she knocks quietly. It’s lunch, the usual time the two of you go. Early enough the mess isn’t as crowded. The last thing you need is a confrontation, or for you to panic like you did the day you revealed the cameras to Simon. 

Dr. Keller could help you, would know how to help you through that, but you’re not sure you could handle that stress, that embarrassment of falling apart in front of the soldiers that already send judgemental looks your way. Falling apart again. 

Not when you can’t trust anyone. 

The words still float through your mind, one of the last things John had said to you before he left. Before he abandoned you. 

Don’t trust anyone. 

Anyone could be a threat. 

Dr. Keller knocks again, calling out your name softly. 

You force yourself off of Johnny’s bed, your joints cracking as you stand. You’ve been in that position far too long. Your body has stiffened, losing the flexibility you once had in the weeks since John left. You’re not even sure you could run as fast as you used to. There’s no space to do it in the barracks, and with how numb you’ve been, you have no drive to even reach down and touch your toes anymore. For all you know you’ll fall forward onto your face and break your nose if you try. 

You open the door with a sigh, looking up at Dr. Keller. You’re sure you look like death...you have probably looked like death for a while. The constant rocking between stress and numbness has made you feel that way, and has likely made it worse. It’s been a long time since you’ve looked at yourself in the mirror, you’re not even sure you remember what you look like. 

You don’t care anymore. 

There’s no one to impress here. 

The less alive, the less enticing you look, the more likely it is to keep audacious alphas away. 

“Ready?” Dr. Keller asks, her brows furrowed slightly as she looks down at you. 

You nod, knowing you have no choice. “Yeah.” 

She nods. “Okay, I-” She’s cut off as her phone begins to ring, the loud ringtone slicing through the air. She keeps it on at all hours in case someone calls about your pack. 

For just a moment you feel hope, something coming back to life inside of you as her phone rings. Could it be Kate? Could it be someone with word of the status of your pack? Maybe it is your pack, calling just to let you hear their voice. 

Maybe for the last time. 

That hope fades as Dr. Keller frowns. “One second.” She steps down the hallway to answer, leaving just enough space between you, you can’t hear what’s being said on the other end. 

You don’t really care to hear, leaning against the wall as you wait. It’s not about your pack, obviously. The thought stings. Still there’s been no word, not even a text. The drop of excitement is almost worse than the numbness, the acceptance that you’re not getting any word, that had begun to form in your mind. 

Dr. Keller walks back up to you, the frown on her face deeper than it had been. It had been a short call, most of the talking done by the person on the other side, you assume. Her answers had been short and simple. Whoever it was...it must not have been good judging by her face. 

“I have to run to my office.” She says. “I need you to stay here.” 

Your heart rate picks up at her words. She’s leaving you alone? You’ve gone back and forth with her so many times, why does she have to go alone now? Maybe whoever had called wanted to continue the conversation without the risk of anyone listening in. 

Who called her, and what did they say to get her to break her promises to your pack? 

“I’ll be right back.” She says, sounding anxious to get to her office. “You’ll be okay here? I won’t be gone long.” 

You nod. You’re not sure you have much of a choice but to agree, but you’re also not about to argue. It’ll be the first time you’ve been alone since the day you confessed to your pack. You’re itching for it now, just a second to be truly alone. Just a second to breathe.

“Don’t leave the barracks.” She says pointedly. “John will have my hide if he finds out.

You shrug. “Don’t know where I’d go anyway.” 

She nods, accepting your answer. It is the truth. You wouldn’t have left anyway. “You call me immediately if anything happens. I’ll be just a couple minutes.” 

You nod in understanding. “I’ll be here.” 

“Good.” She seems satisfied by your answer as she turns to jog down the hallway. 

Good thing she’s wearing comfortable shoes compared to the ones she normally does.

You let out a quiet sigh of relief as soon as the door closes. You stand there in the silence of the barracks for a moment. You’re finally alone, the oppressive feeling of being watched, of being held prisoner lifting just a bit. Sure you can’t leave, but you couldn’t do that before anyway. You head for the rec room, walking as silently as you can, almost as if one of your pack members will jump out from around the corner and reprimand you for being alone. It’s not your fault. Dr. Keller was the one who left you. 

You try not to think about what that phone call had been about as you grab a snack, tiding yourself over before Dr. Keller returns. She said she’d only be a minute, but you’re not sure how long it really will take. You’re silently glad for the break, silently glad for the ability to rest in silence, even if it is only for a couple of minutes. 

You’re not sure what to do with your newfound freedom. It’s not like you didn’t have freedom before, but at least now you feel like you normally do, free to wander around and go to the bathroom by yourself. 

You’re going to do just that. 

It’s instinctual that you choose Simon’s room. You’ve been using his shower still, comforted by the routine you picked up during the time he and Johnny were still with you. It’s comforting, so much so you’ve made sure you hang your towel where it’s supposed to go, and put your soap and shampoo back in place with his. He’d be angry if he came back to find his room a mess, the order he exists in disrupted. 

More angry than he already is with you. 

You let out a sigh as you leave the bathroom, eyeing the books on his dresser. You’ve read all of yours already, and there’s nothing new in the rec room. You haven’t felt like reading much, and you’ve already read all of yours. Now, though, as life begins to fill you again, you feel the urge to do something. 

The spines of the books are slightly dusty as you run your fingers across them. You’ll need to clean again soon. You’d forced yourself to do all of their laundry once their shirts lost their scent. It was beginning to stink and after being gone so long, you doubt they’ll want to come back to stinky dirty clothes. 

Maybe you should clean their rooms too. Dr. Keller has been saying it might be helpful to do something productive. 

And this way it might help in case they do return. Omegas are supposed to keep house. It’s what you’ve been taught to do. The last thing you want is for them to be upset with you for not doing your duties. 

You grab one of the books randomly before slipping back out of the room, closing the door behind you. Your steps are still instinctively quiet as you make your way down the hallway. Until you freeze mid-step. There’s a sound ahead near the rec room, the wind outside getting louder for a moment before it quiets again. 

Someone opened the door. Someone is inside. 

Your breathing hitches as you take a step back, then another moving backwards down the hallway. Dr. Keller did say she’d be back soon, but why would she go through that door? She knows your pack always uses the door at the front, the door behind you to enter. That door only gets used when the guys smoke outside, or when Simon and Johnny have to leave during your heats. 

Whoever entered wouldn’t know that. 

Dr. Keller doesn’t smoke. 

You stumble back to the nearest door, fumbling with the handle for a second before slipping inside. You close the door quietly, clicking the lock before pushing the dresser in front of the door. It’s your room you’ve taken refuge in. There’s dust coating everything, floating around you as you disturb the stale air. You hold your breath, fighting the urge to cough as you wait, hoping the air filters hide your scent before they make it down the hallway. 

Your hands are shaking, gripping the book tightly in your hand. If nothing else, you can use it as a weapon. Simon would be proud of that, improvising a weapon to protect yourself. The panic is rising in you as you wait, the silence of the barracks the only thing allowing you to hear the quiet footsteps making their way down the hall. There’s a nervous fluttering in your chest as you wait, trying to keep your breathing under control. If it’s Dr. Keller she’ll knock, she’ll say something to let you know it’s her. She wouldn’t sneak around the barracks. She knows how much stress you’ve been under. She wouldn’t try to scare you like this. 

A scream dies in your throat as the door handle starts to jiggle, forced back by your own panic. Whoever it is on the other side is trying to get in. You're thrown back into the terror of your first time alone, when someone tried to enter your room in the middle of the night. 

You’re not going to be stupid this time. You’re not going to face this alone. Your fingers fumble around your phone, barely able to unlock it as the jiggling of the handle gets more aggressive. Whoever it is, they’re determined to get in. 

You press Dr. Keller’s number, your breaths coming in ragged gasps as you lift it to your ear. It rings in your ear, the sound echoing outside the door. Your stomach drops, following your phone as it slips out of your hand, still calling Dr. Keller. The ringtone echoes in the empty hallway, quickly drowned out by the blood rushing in your ears. 

The sudden phone call, leaving you alone for the first time in weeks to run to her office, entering through the wrong door...

No...it can’t be. 

The door shudders as something rams against it. You have to hide, you have to get out. You can’t hide in the closet or under the bed. Even the bathroom wouldn’t be smart. It’ll leave you too vulnerable. If whoever it is can break through your door, they’ll get through the bathroom easily. You turn to look at the window. You have to get out. You have to get help. 

There could be others out there, waiting for you to try. 

You have no other choice. Better to try and fight than to stand there and let it happen. That’s what Simon always says. 

You can defend yourself. You can fight until you get a chance to run. You can run. You’re an omega. Running is what you do. 

You barely remember to pick up your phone before you climb onto your desk, not caring as you knock things off. You have to move fast. Whoever it is on the other side of the door probably heard that, probably has figured out you’re going for the window. You have to get out. You have to run. The window slides open slowly, the adrenaline pumping through you, giving you strength you didn’t know you were capable of. You’re not sure you’ve ever opened the window in the time you’ve been here. You squeeze through the opening just big enough to fit you through. You don’t waste time looking back as you take off running, heading in the direction of the trees. 

You’re alone, kicking up gravel as you run to the road. You have to find someone to help you before whoever it was catches up to you. Would they be that brave to attack you in the middle of the base? Would they try something with witnesses around?

You can’t trust anyone.

Would they even believe you if you did try? Or would they take advantage of your state, tricking you into believing them before dragging you into a dark corner? Even if you try to go to the higher ups on base, who would you tell? How would you even find them? 

You can’t trust anyone. 

Instead you choose the trees, racing down the road you had followed Price down not long after your arrival. You thank the CIA for making you run, you thank the guys for letting  you run laps to keep your strength and stamina as you tear down the road, getting glances as you go. You haven’t lost much of your ability, not even in the weeks you’ve been almost completely sedentary. It’s partially the adrenaline, partially your own fear, partially your instincts to escape from danger helping you sprint down the road. 

It’s lunch time, most of the soldiers probably in the mess by now. Maybe you should have run there. Someone would help you. Someone would help you. 

You’ve passed a few on your way down the road, only getting passing glances. If they really cared, they would have followed you, tried to intercept you to ask what was going on. 

None of them stop you as you reach the trailhead, breaking through the brush. Don’t follow the trail. Weave through the trees and double back. Confuse them so they can’t follow. Price’s advice rings loud in your ears as you rush through the forest. Confuse them, and then make for the tower. You can hide there, call Laswell, get help. You’re not sure how much help she can provide from across the ocean, but if nothing else, she’ll at least know. 

If she answers. 

If she’s not behind all of this. 

She might rat you out. 

Maybe going for the tower is a bad idea. Maybe you should double back and head for base again. If you can make it to the gate maybe you can convince one of them to help you, or if nothing else you can force your way through and get off of base. You recognize landmarks well enough you can hike to Hereford, find the police, find anyone that might help you. 

You can’t trust anyone. 

Your chest hurts as you run, tears burning in your eyes, making the trees around you blur. You can’t cry now. You can’t let the ache of betrayal settle in yet. You really can’t trust anyone. John had been wrong. But why now? Why wait this long? 

Something has happened to your pack. 

The whole thing has been organized. 

You trusted her. 

You dart across the trail, a sharp pain biting through your calf before you can reach the other side. You yelp as you fall into the dirt, your leg giving out from under you. You push yourself up to look, a roughly half inch wide hole cutting through your jeans. Blood is starting to seep into the fabric, darkening it around the edges of the hole. 

You’ve been shot. 

“You’re a quick little thing.” A voice says, stepping out from the brush next to the trail. “Though, I suppose with all the running they made you do, you would be.” 

Tears burn your eyes as you stare at the gun pointed right at you. Will it go off again? Will it rip through your chest, giving you a slow painful death out here where no one will find you until it’s too late? Or will it go through your head, giving you a quick death before you even know it’s happened? 

“Why?” You choke out, your heart pounding in fear. You can feel it, the edges of your vision darkening as you begin to panic. You’re going to distress, you’re going to die no matter what happens next. 

“Money.” The gun shifts with the accompanying shrug. “Sure the pay in these positions is decent, but it’s never quite enough. And, you know, I’m all for helping with experiments.” 

The gun lowers, but that does little to ease the panic flooding through you. You turn your upper body, trying to claw through the dirt away from your assailant, trying to escape the shoes getting closer and closer. They’re tennis shoes, practical and easy for running if need be. Your mouth has gone dry as you gasp for breath, your heart thudding in your ears. It’s getting dangerously high, the dark edges in your vision continuing to get bigger and bigger. Your muscles are tensing, ready to tighten painfully, joints locking into place. It’ll be too late to do anything, but then again, it’s too late now to do anything. 

You can’t run. If you try, you’ll get shot again, and maybe this time it will be fatal. 

One of the shoes lifts, stepping down on your leg. You scream as pain ripples all the way up to your hip, stopping your movements. Tears slide down your face, dripping down your nose and onto the dirt. 

A hand reaches out, gripping your chin and forcing you to look straight again. Fingers dig into your jaw, making you whimper with pain. “I always hate when omegas cry.” The hand releases you as their right hand rears back. 

Pain erupts across your cheek, your body being thrown to the side. You fall into the dirt, your ears ringing as the entire left side of your face throbs. You can taste blood, the coppery tang making you want to gag. 

“That was for fucking up the cameras and making me do more work.” 

You’re forced onto your stomach in the dirt, a knee digging into your back painfully. 

“You’re going to go to sleep now.” You can barely make out the words over the ringing in your ears. “When you wake up, you’re going to wish you had never been picked for this initiative in the first place.” 

A stinging pain bites into the skin of your neck, but it’s nothing compared to the throbbing in your cheek and the burning ache in your leg. Tears continue to slide down your cheeks as you lay there, your vision going blurry as the sedative kicks in. There’s no help coming. 

No one even knows you’re out here. 

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