#Omega!Sherlock

[kyusrak]

Kanwda Suekichi as Sherlock Holmes for Halloween

[spn-fanfic-reblog-writes]

Please share. I know I didn’t include all the fandoms.

[writingfanficsfan]

“Do that again. Alpha. Do that again.” Sherlock mumbles and Greg cups his cheek, rubbing their noses together before placing a kiss on his other cheek. Sherlock’s eyes fall closed, leaning forward when Greg pulls back. 

“Alpha.” 

“My Pretty Omega.” Greg whispers, his voice breathless, heart hammering away in his chest as he leans forward and finally tastes Sherlock’s lips with his own. The world fades away, all his doubts, all his logical reasons for why this is a bad idea fall away. All that matters now is Sherlock’s mouth on his, melting into their kiss. 

End of my writing session for today. I'm happy with how far I came and how I ended the chapter I was working on. @chained-to-the-mirror @everythingcanadian

[akwolfgrl]

Witches of 221 b part 1

Sherlock paced across her living room, Suziria splayed across the back of the coach, wooden puzzle in hand. This case was proving to be annoying. The perp never stuck in a pattern other than vulnerable omegas in quite a few parts of the city. It had been a week since the last attack, and Sherlock was getting restless. She had already stalked the areas that were most likely to new crime scenes and the old ones as well. She had already finished her last cig and couldn't be bothered to roll more.

Sherlock stood in front of her board once again, “He stabs the omegas. Obviously, the knife is a replacement for his dick. He's impotent and angry, seeking to control and take back what power he feels he's lost. He takes mostly jewelry as souvenirs, but on the male omegas, he takes their shoes,” Sherlock growled, ruffling her hair, her fingers slipping through her curls. So far, there were five victims, one died of blood loss on the way to the hospital, three more died on sight, and the last one died an hour after.

“Perhaps he has a job that makes him feel small,” Suziria asked from their spot on the coach.

“While that is a possibility that doesn't help at the moment," Sherlock waved dismissively towards the couch. As Sherlock continued to stare at the board, her phone rang. "What?" She barked into the phone.

"There's been another, this time, he killed them," D.I Lestrade's voice told him. "62 Queens Road behind the nightclub."

"We will be there, don't touch anything!" Sherlock hung up the phone and strode towards her coat. She quickly drew it across her body. Suziria climbed up her leg and the back of her Belstaff, placing the wooden puzzle in the left pocket before perching on her shoulder.

With any luck, it was the actual stabber and not an opportunistic killing. There had been several of them ever since the press broke the news. People were using him as a way to try and get away with murder. They hailed a cab and slid inside, giving the cabbie directions. When they arrived, Sherlock tossed the cabbie a handful of bills and hurried towards the police tape. Lestrade was there waiting for her, Donovan nowhere in sight.

"Where's the body?" Sherlock asked, cutting to the chase, ducking under the police tape.

"Right this way, twenty-five female omega, no jewelry, but her purse wasn't taken, leaving out robbery. She was stabbed several times," Lestrade spoke, leading Sherlock the short distance to the body.

Sherlock stood over the bloody body with a fading stainless steel coloured magic taking on every detail, the pretty blonde laid face down. She was in a waitress uniform headed home from work. Sherlock kneeled closer to the body, and there was a slight tan line around her wrist indicating a routinely worn bracelet. He was getting more violent, and chunks of her hair were ripped from her scalp. Sherlock took a glove and used it to lift her hand. There was no blood under her fingertips, only gravel. She had tried to crawl away, and he most likely knelt on her while stabbing. It was most definitely their guy. Going by how she had been able to move while he was on top of her, he must be slight of build as well as short going by the angle of the thrusts from the prior bodies.

"Got anything for me, Sherlock?"

"The man is also slight of build, seeing as he clearly knelt on her, and she was able to move. If he had been a heavier man, she would have found it difficult," Sherlock shook her head. This case was puzzling and frustrating. She should have been able to solve it by now. She would need to do a reading tonight.

"It's okay, Sherlock, maybe he has help? That could be why the crime scenes are so clean of DNA and evidence pointing to the killer," Suziria pointed out, patting her cheek in an attempt to be comforting.

"That's a good point. Lestrade, check the database for any witches capable of cleaning a crime scene. No omegas, though." It could be another Moriarty associated case.

"On it," Lestrade didn't bother to argue with her for once.

Sherlock had been on the trail of a man named Moriarty, a consulting criminal as he was known. His cases always frustrated her. He helped criminals do better crimes, which at first had been thrilling, and better cases to solve. However, now it was just annoying every time she unraveled one knot of his tangled web. There was another one waiting for her. She even resorted to working with her brother.

[cupidford]

Latent Heat by Accident, Tindomerelhloni

Johnlock Love Letters #2337

28 years old and unpresented, Sherlock is a medical phenomenon. At the hands of his family, the represented Omega has undergone every test known to man in the hopes that they can learn why he hasn't presented. Sherlock enjoys his current state, it means he can't be bonded off to an Alpha of his family's choosing. He doesn't want to bond. Or at least, he didn't. All that changed when he met John Watson.

[consult-sherlockholmes]

are you an alpha beta or omega?

You mean like radiation-wise, although there is no omega radiation, just gamma.

Or are you talking broader chemistry of fatty acids with omega? Then beta would be beta oxidation of fatty acids, and alpha-linolenic acid?

I don't know how people can identify with such things, but radiation-wise I would probably be gamma radiation as it has the most energy and is the most dangerous.

[femboykyo]

I don't know if it's just me but I've noticed that a lot of people seem to forget just how complex Liam's character is. They forget just how he developed his switch energy. Ever since he was a little kid he's had to play as someone else, because he had to. By the time he's in NYC with Sherlock, the only things he knows about himself is that he likes math, he wants to be with Sherlock and he still wants to help people. That is William's core is that he wants to do good and he's learning that he can do good by doing good. He didn't like to be the Lord of Crime but if he didn't become that version then nothing would change, that's what he thought. So up until current time he's just been doing what he needed to so he could survive. Which is where that “dominating” or “switch” energy comes in. I'm not saying he wouldn't like to but he's doing it because the person he was helped him survive. During his time in NYC he's literally trying to figure out who HE is, who is WILLIAM JAMES MORIARTY. He's more vulnerable(earning the nickname crybaby William), he's starting back at square one, and he's in a completely different place. Sherlock is quite literally his place of comfort, NYC gives him a chance to be away from everything and not have to be in that survival mode. It's like when someone grew up in a household where they had to recognize everyone's footsteps and then when they are finally safe from that place they still have that habit of knowing footsteps, Liam is learning how to be his own person rather than his Lord Of Crime persona (or pretend he is OG William that society thinks he is). So I don't think at first he would be very dominant or switch with Sherlock, and Sherlock wouldn't push that. It wouldn't be until he asks Sherlock to let him continue to live with him and be by his side that he would develop that switch energy because at that point he knows something/someone he wants.

In line with this thought, the same could be said about his secondary gender(omegaverse). A lot of people think he could be an Alpha or an Omega with Sherlock but to me it's deeper than that. Because he had to be the way he was to survive, he would've been an Omega presenting as an Alpha. Because of the time they're in, being an Omega male(rare) was shameful. Due to this William had to hide the fact he was an Omega. This also aligns with his personality. Of course Sherlock first meeting William knows he's not an Alpha but doesn't say anything(nor care). When they live together in NYC William doesn't have suppressants or blockers and experiences his first heat without his medicine. Because of having to use blockers and suppressants his heat hits hard. Sherlock helps him(and almost dies lol)

[eggcompany]

Sherlock gots the hots for beta John and He doesn't even know it

Sherlock gets his first heat and doesn't understand. John helps him through the first orgasm he's had during heat. TW; Past genital mutilation. Sherlock's neutering was botched as hell.

Short, smutty, no sex just fingering and desperation.

“Mrs. Hudson! Have you seen Sherlock? We have a case.” 

“No dear I haven’t seen him but there is an odd smell around isn’t there? Maybe he finally went out with someone!” 

“I doubt that... I’ll search the flat again. If he comes around tell me!” 

John had already looked around the flat and called for his new roommate. It had been three months since he met the other man. 

John was a beta and of course he couldn’t smell the other out. He wasn’t sure if Sherlock was an alpha or not... he was tall and looked kind of strong but he was just so odd. He’s not a beta though because he’s got a scent blocking collar. John’s never seen him wear it but he’s seen it laying around in his room. 

John walked through the flat. He opened all the doors and ended up at Sherlock's bedroom door. 

“Sherlock? Sherlock, we have a case! Are you in here?” John opened the door and heard rustling but didn’t see anything moving. 

“Sherlock are you in here?” John walked around the bed but there was no one. 

“J-j-jo-John.” A small squeaky voice said. It sounded like it was coming from the closet. 

John turned and opened one of the closet doors to reveal the normally stoic detective curled up shirtless on a pile of clothes. Sherlock was sweaty and panting and looked absolutely terrified. 

“Sherlock? What’s wrong? Are you hurt? Where does it hurt? Do you need a hospita-'' John got down to his knees and started looking for a wound or bruise or anything that would suggest a hospital stay. He was cut short though. 

“Johnnnnnn help me! My body it’s not working right, I'm hot and and I’m wiggly and I want more clothes to pile and I want I want I want I want JOHN!” Sherlock started to wiggle and rub against the clothes and stare into John’s eyes, tears creeping down his face. 

John had never seen the detective so flustered. His eyes were clouded, his chest was flush, his stomach looked a bit pooched out, oh no trousers. Oh no trousers because Sherlock's pants were soaked with... oh... 

Oh!

“Sherlock, I am going to ask you something and you tell me the truth.” John said as his doctor brain kicked into gear. 

“Johnnnn please please please please please yes I promise” Sherlock curled towards his best friend and kept his wiggling and rubbing. 

“Sherlock are you in heat?” John said and put his hand on his shoulder. Sherlock pushed up against and nodded. 

“I think soooo. I don’t know John! I can’t heat! I don’t heat! I’ve never I’ve never heated before John! Help me! Am I in heat John? John I’m fixed! I’m fixed! I can’t heat!” Sherlock was rolling now. Whimpering and crying. John knew these signs. He was a doctor for fucks sake he knows the signs of omega distress. 

“Sherlock, you need to listen to me. You’re going into distress and you’ll have to be sedated or restrained if you don’t listen. You don’t want the hospital yeah?” John put his hands on the sides of Sherlock's neck, right over his scent glands. Instead of the soft spongy flesh that should be there he felt gappy empty space. It still got the others attention though. 

“Don’t wanna be asleep no no no I’ll be good John I’ll be good I’m scared” Sherlock grabbed weakly at John’s wrists as his eyes teared up. 

John nodded and brought himself closer to the detective. What does a heat distressed omega need? 

A nest, lots of physical affections and physical contact, water, nutrition drinks and electrolytes. He’ll need a bath after. 

John hushed and cooed at Sherlock until he calmed a bit. 

“Okay Sherlock do you want me in your nest? You made such a good nest for the first time. Looks so nice and in a good snug place.” John said. Omegas in heat like praise, Sherlock likes praise. 

“Yes yes yes in John in nest” Sherlock said in a chopped up way that told John Sherlock was really really out of it. 

John slipped his shoes and jumper off leaving him in just a plain white shirt on top. He scooted Sherlock around until the detective was laying across his lap with his head resting on John’s chest. Everyone likes hearing a calm heartbeat of someone they trust. 

“Sherlock this is your first heat right? You’re doing so well, you made a nest and everything. Good job.” John said and started petting down Sherlock’s neck. John knew just sitting on someone’s lap, feeling their body heat would help soothe Sherlock. Petting and rubbing where his scent glands should be and where a mate mark would go would relax him hopefully. 

“‘M fixed! I’m not supposed to heat, I'm fixed John I’m fixed” Sherlock said and looked a little panicked but his eyes were a tiny bit clearer and he was looking at John so that’s a bit better. 

John moved one hand to pet down Sherlock's chest. His nipples were puffy and his chest felt soft under John’s hands. Normal. Good. Sherlock was having normal heat symptoms. 

“What do you mean fixed? Can you explain? You’re doing really well so far.” John asked. He started rubbing Sherlock's sides and stomach. He must have eaten a lot before he crawled into the closet. 

Sherlock pushed his head closer to John’s heartbeat and tried to match John’s breath. Natural behavior. Good normal natural behavior. 

“I’m fixed John, like fixed. Spayed, neutered, surgery, castrated. I’ve had it all taken out John! I don’t have a scent glands or or I thought I didn’t have slick glands but but but I’m wet. John I’ve never been wet before I don’t like it I feel soggy” Sherlock said as he wiggles a bit more. His hips start to move and buck. John’s trousers are ruined. Sherlock has slicked all over him. 

John continued his petting and rubbing working Sherlock's sides and stomach and neck and inner thighs. If Sherlock was fixed why was he having a heat? If he’s never heated before he must’ve been fixed when he was young. Maybe medical? Maybe optional? Why was he having such a normal heat? Normally it would take two or three heats for them to get stable. Wait if Sherlock was completely fixed how would he cum? How would he soothe himself? John had dealt with fixed omegas before but never completely fixed like this. 

“Johnnnnnn it hurts it aches John make it better John touch me” Sherlock whined and grabbed John’s hand and pulled it to the front of his pants. 

“Okay, okay Sherlock can we take these off? Let’s get them off and let me see okay?” John said as he touched the edge of Sherlock's underwear. 

Sherlock didn’t hesitate to wiggle until he was completely naked and sitting facing John with his knees bent showing himself to John. 

“John John John please keep petting me I’m I'm I need I need you to touch me John” Sherlock said as started rubbing his shoulders against a jacket hanging behind him. 

John started rubbing Sherlock's slim legs while studying the... the disaster in front of him. The horror of the the... 

the scarring, the tears, this isn’t getting fixed. This was... mutilation. 

There was a huge gnarled scar that reached from the base of Sherlock's member to his puffy hole. Another scar ran across where his sack should be sitting, wide and white. 

The final scar was by far the worst looking. It started almost on Sherlock’s lower back, . It looked cut deep and cut multiple times. It ran straight down to his hole and triangled on both sides. This was not done by a real surgeon. 

Sherlock was starting to buck and wiggle his hips. 

“Oh Sherlock... we’re going to talk about this when you cool down and get washed up. But for now let’s get you calmed.” John said as he started to rub the very insides of Sherlock's thighs. 

Sherlock calmed a bit and his hole gave a weak twitch and a small bead of slick peaked through. 

“John John I need more please John I don’t know how to do this! John please off off” Sherlock said as he started wiggling again but this time he grabbed at John’s undershirt and trousers. John pulled his shirt off and wiggled out of his trousers. Sherlock automatically latched on straddling the newly exposed skin. 

John rubbed at Sherlock's back and let the heating man rut up against his stomach. 

“Sherlock you’re doing very well. You’re talking and asking for what you need, good boy. Good omega. Now do you have any toys?” John asked as he felt a small gush of slick leak out of Sherlock's hole. 

“What does that mean, what toy?” Sherlock seemed much more coherent now. Probably between the increased physical contact and the rutting it’s soothed his ache a bit. 

“Toys like heat toys. Uh,  like dildos or vibrators or knotting toys or anything like that. Do you have any of those?” John was really hoping he did. All omegas have at least one toy, just in case. You could buy heat kits at liquor stores for Pete’s sake. 

“No no no I don’t do that I’ve never done that” Sherlock said and started rubbing his face on John’s neck. John may be a beta and even with his lack of scent glands Sherlock probably found comfort in the feeling of John’s pulse. 

“Sherlock can I touch you?” John said and rubbed at the skin closest to Sherlock’s cock. Sherlock shivered and nodded. 

“Please, John, please. I don’t know what to do.” Sherlock whined and shifted his hips around which caused his cock to swing and hit John’s hand. 

The older man nodded and used one hand to grasp Sherlock’s member lightly while running his other hand down to rub around the outside of the detective’s hole. 

Sherlock whined and shivered and ran his hands around John’s neck and all over his chest and stomach. Sherlock’s muscles gave away and John’s finger easily slid into the warm slick heat. John was glad that the omega couldn’t see his face. John frowned at the feeling. He could feel like scarring that webbed the walls of Sherlock’s slick hole. 

John soon found out that Sherlock could slick up pretty well. Although definitely not as slick as other omegas. John added another finger once Sherlock slicked up enough, and then a third once John found what must’ve been the little piece of what used to be his prostate. It didn’t take very long for Sherlock to let out huffs and puffs and then a low screamy whine. 

John kept his fingers rubbing at the rudely scarred walls until Sherlock was slack and relaxed. Sherlock was breathing evenly. When John looked down Sherlock looked so at peace, dead asleep. 

He should sleep in his nest until he wakes. Then a chat and a bath.

[runnerfivestillalive]

Observations, chapter 3!

It’s up! The end of the semester ate me alive, so even posting an already written chapter was impossible for a bit, but it’s up now! Omega John, alpha Sherlock, more chapters to come! https://archiveofourown.org/works/51302266/chapters/132849259#workskin

[lilietherly]

[Fanfic! Johnlock]

Omegaverse.

Omega John Watson/Alfa Sherlock Holmes.

Confesión de amor.

Primer beso. (Pero no es realmente un beso "en"(?))

Basado en la película "Young Sherlock Holmes", de 1985.

Amor correspondido.

Jóvenes emocionalmente tontos.

Dato curioso sobre esta historia: me atoré un mes entero en solucionar una de las últimas escenas, ¡así que nadie me diga que no le puse todo mi corazón! XD Ok, ok, no empezaré con gritos, la primera aclaración es que esta historia fue hecha para otra personita que ganó el pequeño concurso que dije que sería solo para la primera personita (el fanfic anterior), pero que como adoro tanto no tuve el corazón para rechazar su petición, incluso si llegó después, la cual solo fue especifica en la versión de la ship y el que fuera Omegaverse :D

Cosas con las que este fic cumple a la perfección, aunque todavía estoy indecisa sobre si lo hice bien o si perdí el toque -.-... Pero estoy segura de que será al menos entretenido (¬¬U). Lo único que sí puedo asegurar, como dije antes, es que lo escribí con mucho amor y con toda la dedicación del mundo uwu.

Vuelvo a aclarar también, que esta historia es para celebrar mis 500 subs en Wattpad y extiendo un agradecimiento a mi amada personita por perder la timidez y aprovechar las ofertas (?), aunque aún así REALMENTE lamento la tardanza, prometo que hice lo posible para terminarlo rápido... y no pude TwT.

Ahora que finalmente esta aquí, espero que te guste, lo hice con mis lágrimas </3

* * *

—Se dice que los Zetas fueron creados por la madre naturaleza con el único propósito de hacerlos pertenecer a un Sigma —recitaba el profesor frente a la medio adormilada clase—. Los Zetas carecen de dones, sin embargo, dependiendo el clan a cuyos Sigmas que fueron destinados, son capaces de ver, oler o percibir detalles que Deltas y Alfas no pueden, así como de satisfacer plenamente a su Sigma. Muchos Zetas no saben que los son hasta que encuentran a su Sigma destinado…

El joven Holmes parecía físicamente sufrir ante el discurso del profesor, pensar que aun así era quien mayor atención prestaba le retorcía el estómago. Sabía que en alguna parte Elizabeth continuaba burlándose de él. El profesor, un anciano Omega Sangre Pura que debió haberse retirado de la docencia hace una década, hablaba con tal calma que, aunado a su aroma inundando la habitación, pocas opciones dejaba a sus alumnos para asimilar de lo que decía.

Sherlock se esforzaba en aprender, poco importaba su desinterés previo y sus constantes ausencias en esa clase, o cada palabra desdeñosa, cada burla y mención sobre la inutilidad de lo que pretendían enseñar. Ninguna queja guardaba ya algún sentido desde la aparición de John Watson. Y maldita sea, casi aseguraría escuchar la risa de Elizabeth detrás de la ventana, si no supiera que ella se ocupaba ayudando a su tío con algún experimento. La querida señorita guardaba cierta habilidad para reírse de él, por lo que, en cuanto el pequeño Watson apareció y los vio juntos desde que se encontraron, ella no dudó un instante en advertirle lo que estaba destinado a ocurrir.

Sería redundante para Sherlock destacar lo mucho que negó las rápidas conclusiones de Elizabeth, peor todavía, el lapso enorme que tardó en aceptar la facilidad con la que ella hizo a un lado el flirteo que hubo entre ambos antes de que Watson apareciera. No obstante, Sherlock tampoco diría que olvidarse de ello resultó difícil. Como amigos, Elizabeth resultaba igual de animada y deslumbrante que de haber llegado a más, por lo que, una vez Sherlock retrocedió y se colocó a la misma altura, no encontró decepción alguna.

Pensar que su argumento acerca del pequeño Watson tenía sentido, ocupó el doble de tiempo. Al principio ni siquiera lo tomó de excusa usada por Elizabeth para rechazarlo. Tomarlo en serio cuando Sherlock sabía que —con suerte— llegaría, en un futuro lejano, a tenerle a él un cariño similar al que guardaba por ella, zanjó el asunto de manera rotunda. Elizabeth, sabía como ninguna, se rio de él.

—Deberías prestar atención a Responsabilidades Sociales y Morales —dijo ella hacía un mes. Caminaban juntos a donde Watson asistía a su última clase—. John ha sido claramente criado como un digno Omega Sangre Pura, así que no podrás retenerlo a tu lado a base de acertijos y deducciones. —Entonces el pequeño Watson se les unió y Sherlock no tuvo tiempo de preparar una respuesta adecuada.

A Sherlock le incomodó la insistencia de Elizabeth y los consejos que le daba sobre algo que no existía, casi como si tuviera el derecho de decirle cómo sentirse o, peor aún, como si le fuera tan sencillo leer lo que había en su corazón antes de que le propio Sherlock lo descubriera. Así, al comprender su obvio error, sacudió su cabeza tal dolor punzante que no acudió a clases un par de días, tras los que liberó un suspiro cansado al entender de verdad cuánto ella tuvo razón.

No fue su malestar producto de descubrirse enamorado del pequeño Watson, sino de su obvia falta de sentido común al no aceptar las señales viéndolas pasar frente a sus ojos, y luego, a pesar de retenerlas en el pecho, permanecer ciego e incauto. ¿Acaso tuvo la osadía de negar a ese adorable Omega? Si bien rechazaba únicamente el enamorarse de alguien que no fuera Elizabeth, tras admitir haber caído por el pequeño Watson, ningún sentimiento de culpa vino a reclamar sus pensamientos. Al contrario, mayores resultaron los ataques hacia su necedad y grave falta de imaginación, además, por supuesto, recalcaba las disculpas que le debía a Elizabeth. Aunque ella lo perdonó desde el principio.

—Esto pasaría tarde o temprano, no creí que valiera la pena el molestarme contigo, Sherlock —le dijo, sonriéndole esplendorosa—. En lugar de preocuparte, será mejor que tomes de una vez en cuenta mis consejos, Watson ha estado llamando mucho la atención y, sinceramente, no puedo culpar a nadie, él huele tan... bien.

Aquel comentario trajo a Sherlock un par de emociones contrariadas, ya que nadie iba a ser nunca lo suficientemente bueno para Elizabeth y, a su vez, haría hasta lo imposible para que nadie le arrebatara al pequeño Watson. Ella le aseguró que se trataba de puro instinto Beta, que algo solo la hacía sentirse confortable al recibir el aroma Omega, de esa forma el Omega se aseguraba de que, si acaso surgía el escenario, la Beta se rendiría al instinto de proteger a quien poseía ese perfume.

Terminada la explicación, ya consciente del buen Omega que era el pequeño Watson y cómo todos a su alrededor lo trataban, aunado al modo en que correspondía, Sherlock procedió a seguir el consejo de Elizabeth, al día siguiente, enfrentándose a la tortuosa clase de Responsabilidades Sociales y Morales, decidido a aprender cómo siquiera comenzar un cortejo o, para empezar, saber por qué habría de hacer uno.

—… El Registro Delta siempre esta actualizado, es imprescindible que cualquier movimiento importante sea archivado en caso de que el Gamma a cargo de la región tenga dudas sobre los Deltas a elegir. Antiguamente también se registraban los Alfa Sangre Pesada, esto se corrigió hace…

Sin embargo, el profesor se esforzaba en hacer lo que estuviera en sus manos para que Sherlock se arrepintiera de su decisión. Peor todavía, nunca en los dos meses que ahora sumaban sus asistencias, se habló alguna vez sobre el cortejo. Incluso de sus propios compañeros provino el saber que existían, en realidad, dos tipos de cortejo. La frustración que lo consumía desde el primer día comenzaba un abrupto asenso, y pronto lo arrastraría a la locura, si no había sucumbido ya.

De continuar así, cualquier Alfa con mayores conocimientos le robaría a John en cualquier momento. No es que pasara por alto a cada una de las personas a quienes John les daba su atención; Sherlock tenía una lista mental de al menos una docena de ellos. Desde la popular Alfa Sangre Pesada de largo cabello y piel oscura que dedicó al pequeño Watson dos de sus mejores asaltos en Esgrima contra el profesor Rathe, al feroz e inteligente muchacho —también un Sangre Pesada— que compartía muchas de las clases con Watson; todos demostraron prestarle al Omega demasiada atención.

Aun si se tratara de simple paranoia, Sherlock no bajaría la guardia, ya escuchaba, aparte de las advertencias de Elizabeth, cuán fácil resultaría apartar de su lado al adorable Omega que siempre lo seguía. Dado que Sherlock tampoco se mostraba interesado en hacerlo suyo, ni John dejaba en él alguna posesiva marca de olor que lo señalara como su elegido, nada detendría a los otros Alfas para actuar. Y por parte de Sherlock, a pesar de su ignorancia, se habría atrevido a acercarse de manera romántica al pequeño Watson si algo que le asegurara ser correspondido o tuviera idea de cómo dar ese paso.

La forma de acercarse ni la oportunidad para hacerlo eran similares a lo que fue con Elizabeth. Incluso el sentimiento difería en muchos aspectos. Indigno sería compararlos, en principio porque nunca se le concedió la oportunidad de crecer su primer amor y, naturalmente, porque aquello arremolinándose en su pecho en presencia de Watson, colmaba al punto de lo irracional cuanto hubo creído que llegaría a sentir nunca en su vida. Y eso lo asustaba. ¿Qué le haría a su joven corazón si llegara a perderlo? Si el Omega elegía a alguien más y se apartaba de su lado, si los acertijos y una ciencia de la deducción todavía en exceso falible no lograban atarlo y darle tiempo a Sherlock, ¿qué sucedería con él?

Nada excepto la amistad del pequeño Watson le aseguraba su amor, y las condiciones para ganárselo disminuían conforme perdía el tiempo en esa clase. Si parte de su responsabilidad como Alfa consistía en pertenecerle a un Omega, asegurarse de que haya progenie y mantenerlo a salvo, feliz y en paz, el que no le dijeran cómo siquiera ganarse un Omega carecía de sentido. Llegando tristemente a esa conclusión, aceptado el hecho de que no aprendería algo que le sirviera de verdad, se rindió, y frustrado se dejó vencer por el sueño. Ya averiguaría después a quién preguntarle, quizá escabullirse en esa parte de la biblioteca a la que solo se le permitía el acceso a los maestros y alumnos mayores le daría mejores respuestas. Quizá no. Quizá estaba destinado a quedarse solo. Quizá…

—¿También estás por dormirte? —Sherlock reaccionó a la voz del pequeño Watson, sentado detrás de él. Sin girarse asintió para responder, cansado, triste e incapaz de hablar—. ¿Recuerdas eso que hicimos el mes pasado?, pienso que ya es hora de repetirlo. —El joven Holmes asintió, casi animado. Sintió a Watson levantar la mano, se imaginó su rostro teñido de falsa preocupación, y pronto, un dulce aroma floral alcanzó su nariz.

—¿Sí, joven Watson? —el profesor se giró hacia el Omega.

—¿Pu-puedo retirarme, señor Moore?, me-me duele el vientre… creo que… creo que voy a tener un micro-celo. —El rostro alarmado del profesor fue ignorado por la mitad de los alumnos.

Cada Alfa a excepción de Sherlock se giró al instante hacia John. Sherlock se tragó el gruñido salvaje que rápidamente se alojó en su pecho para amenazarlos de no acercarse a su Omega. Se detuvo no porque de verdad su voluntad tuviera tal brío, sino porque eso le ayudaría a salir de ahí.

—Por supuesto, querido, ve a la Torre Omega. —Al levantarse el pequeño Watson, los Alfas que inhalaban su aroma con descaro lo siguieron, atentos, buscando, aguardando el momento en el que se liberara totalmente el micro-celo para saltar y hacer suyo al Omega. Viendo el profesor que Sherlock parecía resistirlo, le dijo—: Holmes, acompáñelo y asegúrese de que llegue a salvo.

Un par de Omegas los observaron acusadores mientras salían, sabiendo que si los delataban, en adelante el profesor se aseguraría de revisar a cada alumno que dijera tener un micro-celo, descubriría que muchos de ellos mentían y no habría ya ninguna posibilidad de que alguien escapara de la aburrida clase. Así, los organizados e inteligentes Omegas guardaron silencio, permitiéndoles irse.

El joven Holmes y el pequeño Watson abandonaron la actuación después de cruzar el pasillo, caminando en dirección a la Torre Omega. Sintiéndose a salvo, John recuperó la tranquilidad de sus gestos y el suave aroma a miel; Sherlock, su humor. Cuando sus ojos se encontraron, rieron, como si hubieran superado una prueba especialmente difícil. Al igual que en las veces anteriores, se escabulleron ágiles a la salida del colegio, esquivando a los guardias Beta y cada profesor con quien pudieran cruzarse a esa hora.

Una vez en la calle, puesto que sería John el que mayor atención llamara al ser un Omega joven que no estaba en clases, Sherlock le ofreció su brazo, a sabiendas de que con ese gesto tan nimio, cualquier entrometido pasaría de ellos al segundo. No serían ya más muchachos irresponsables, sino, acaso, el traslado del Omega a un sitio diferente, con la guarda y compañía de él, un Alfa. El pequeño Watson aceptó el ofrecimiento al instante, la suave alegría de su diversión llegando al olfato de Sherlock en la forma de un sedoso perfume, que no tardó en inhalar e intentar fingir que no lo percibía ni le fascinaba en absoluto.

De esa manera atravesaron un par de calles, cada una menos transitada que la anterior, hasta que llegaron finalmente a su destino; un local abandonado que solía ser una anticuaría. Sherlock lo había descubierto el año anterior, persiguiendo una pista que al final no dio resultado. Del ya estrecho lugar, apenas se desempolvó una esquina; limpiarlo demasiado traería sospechas y, por supuesto, ni él ni el pequeño Watson se ofrecerían a hacerlo. Una vez adentro, se sentaron en desgastadas sillas, a ambos lados de la barra deshecha que haría alguna vez de mostrador, Sherlock en el lugar del tendero y John, del cliente.

—Es incomprensible cómo una clase que debería enseñarnos sobre nuestros papeles en la sociedad, pueda ser tan aburrida. Estoy seguro de que los monólogos de mi padre son más entretenidos. —Sherlock soltó una ligera risa por las palabras y el tono de monumental aburrimiento con el que fueron dichas—. Lo que es peor, dudo mucho que el señor Moore enseñe alguna vez lo que quiero aprender. —Aquella última frase atrajo la atención del joven Holmes.

—¿Y qué sería eso? Espero que no algo sobre los dramas de la realeza o un tema así de intrascendente.

—No, pero creo que igualmente no importa. —Sherlock enarcó una ceja, a la que el pequeño Watson no tardó en responder—. Solo… no sé si de verdad importa sabiendo que a mi Alfa elegido todas esas reglas le parecen absurdas y mucho menos se tomará la molestia de aprender alguna.

Sherlock tragó en seco. Un temblor frío le recorrió la espalda.

John tenía un Alfa elegido.

John tenía un Alfa elegido.

John. Tenía. Un. Alfa. Elegido.

¿De quién se trataba? ¿En qué momento sucedió? ¿Debería Sherlock comprobar si cada uno de sus escenarios inventados para cometer un crimen perfecto, resultarían de verdad perfectos? Ideas, locuras comenzaron a resonar en su mente hasta que, un segundo después, vino el silencio. Cordura y un respiro.

El joven Alfa desenterró las uñas de sus muslos al llegar a él un gramo de razón y descubrir los puntos de interés que pronto le trajeron las deseadas soluciones a sus preguntas. No obstante, su incapacidad para cerrar la boca en situaciones que quizá lo ameritaran, lo obligó a revelar su descubrimiento de una manera poco menos que elegante. Entonces, con la cara luminosa y sonrojada, firme como una ramita, se dirigió al pequeño Watson:

—¿Soy yo?

Los gestos plasmados en el rostro de John permanecerían en la memoria del joven Holmes el resto de su vida. Boca y ojos abiertos de par en par, mejillas iluminadas de profundo escarlata y el cuerpo paralizado. El Omega mantuvo su mirada en él durante un minuto completo antes de dirigir aquel hermoso par de crisoberilos verdes hacia la ventana sucia. Enseguida, suspirando con una fuerza tal que exhaló de sus pulmones cualquier rastro de aire, unidas sus manos sobre su regazo, dijo, en voz baja y tímida:

—… S-sí.

Silencio los cubrió entonces, pesado y pegajoso como el polvo que los rodeaba… Sin embargo, tal cual este polvo que se negaban a limpiar, no incomodo ni inhabitable. Los ojos de ambos viajaron a través de la habitación, buscando aquello que quitara el silencio y lo reemplazara con algo de utilidad. Sherlock, pensando en un centenar de palabras correctas, ni una se le antojaba factible, ni siquiera una que funcionara para salir de su estado mental; ahogado de alegría y la dicha más absoluta. Reprenderse por lo que hubiera pasado si el pequeño Watson  respondía negativamente a la pregunta no funcionó. La felicidad de saberse correspondido lo opacaba todo, de una manera tan dominante que, al encontrarse sus ojos y esas hermosas joyas, en realidad, nada faltó para que la atmósfera cambara al segundo.

—Eres un Alfa imposible —dijo el Omega entre risas, pretendiendo cubrirse la boca y fallando, pues sus pequeñas manos no podían ocultar el humor de su boca, Sherlock no se molestó en imitarlo, mostrando sin muros su sonrisa.

—Ese es el punto, mi querido Watson —contestó, guiando su mano lentamente sobre la barra. Las risas se apagaban, permitiendo una maravillosa vista de iridiscente dulzura y cariño—. Creo que por eso me elegiste —susurró. El pequeño Watson observó su intención y sin dudarlo alcanzó su mano. Sherlock le acarició el dorso, la piel sedosa quemó sus dedos.

—Siempre tan inteligente. —Sherlock vio la manera infantil en que rodaba los ojos, al ser obvio que él no estaba de verdad molesto, atrajo la pequeña mano a su boca, girándola despacio para que la cara interna de la muñeca estuviera hacia arriba. Sus labios se acercaron peligrosamente a la sensible piel, sobre la que imprimió un soplo tenue. En ningún momento el Omega intentó retroceder, al contrario, su voz y su cuerpo se relajaron ante el contacto—. Te elegí desde que te fallaste al adivinar mi nombre. —Lamiéndose los labios, sonriente, el joven Alfa no apartó su atención de la blanca piel. La declaración, dicha con un largo suspiro, le aceleró el pulso—. Te elegí aun pensando que jamás sería correspondido.

Sepultando la errada creencia del pequeño Watson, Sherlock besó su muñeca, justo donde una de las glándulas de olor, que en conjunto con las demás, comenzaron a obsequiarle perfume delicioso e intenso, adictivo. Sherlock no se resistió a él, inhalándolo profundamente, hambriento. Besó la piel con devoción, ansioso de no cometer alguna equivocación y que el Omega lo privara del siguiente y el siguiente aliento. De lograr un pensamiento coherente, agradecería a Elizabeth por insistir en hacerle ver lo obvio.

Porque nada existiría que fuera igual de razonable.

—Mi Alfa.

Murmuró el pequeño Watson, advirtiendo una afilada lengua atravesar el límite de los labios que adoraban su piel. Tiernos dedos acariciaron el mentón de Sherlock cuando probó por primera vez la dulzura del Omega. Al tiempo, su saliva lo marcaba como su poseedor.

—Tuyo, Omega.

Porque una respuesta diferente no bastaría.

Porque nunca podría ser Sherlock Holmes, si no se rindiera a los encantos de su John Watson.

* * *

En mi Omegaverse la posesividad entre la pareja (o los integrantes de una asociación de tipo romántico) es más o menos equitativa, pero esto es más de manera interna, ¿ya sabes?, es la manera en que se maneja dentro de casa, en sociedad (fuera de casa) es el Omega quien posee al Alfa y no al revés, aunque siempre es un gesto muy romántico para el Omega que su(s) Alfa(s) se muestre feliz de ser poseído por el Omega ¬w¬. No sé si esta aclaración hacía falta, pero por si acaso no has leído otros de mis Omegaverse o si no lo he dejado muy claro, aquí esta uwu, ¿qué te parece?

Y por favor, también dime qué te pareció la historia :D, estaré esperando ansiosamente para saber tu opinión, así que te lo ruego, amor mío, no dudes en decírmelo :3, todas tus respuestas me darán la energía y la voluntad no solo para seguir escribiendo, sino para sobrevivir otra semana y no perecer en el intento.

¡Muchas gracias por leer!

¡Te adoroooo!

[cocolinagoodnight]

Showering thinking is great ..... more thoughts on bad batch season 2 season finale lmao

So in the shower.

We thought Boba was gone ...this mfer turns back up and gets a whole ass season and some episodes.

We thought Thrawn was gone and Ezra was gone ......WE STILL DONT KNOW

Also he didn't close his eyes and accept his fate.....He kept his eyes open and locked on them the entire time......it hurts but just watch the gif .

"This was all we could recover...." hemlock doesnt know he just knows that's left. Baby boy didn't disappear or disintegrate.....Hes alive.

DONT GET ME STARTED ON MY NIECE OMEGA BEING GONE . whew that ll be another post.

Thank you all for bearing with my random thoughts

[writingfanficsfan]

Wip. Alpha Greg/ Omega Sherlock

“I don't think I’ve ever seen you smile. ❜ Greg says suddenly, meeting Sherlock’s eyes across the table and it takes a second for Sherlock to realise that he’s serious. Sherlock blinks his eyes, open and closing his mouth before shaking his head and waving a dismissive hand his direction. 

“Don’t be ridiculous, Lestrade. I smile.” Sherlock mumbles, closing his eyes for a second when the laughter from two tables down seems to assault his ears. Greg takes a sip if his lukewarm coffee, eyes resting on Sherlock’s black curls, again wondering if they are as soft as he thinks they are. 

“Not when you’re around me, you don’t.” Greg says when Sherlock looks up from his work, taking another sip when Sherlock frowns. Somehow he always looks adorable when he frowns. 

“Then you haven’t been paying attention because I do smile around you.” Sherlock states, crossing his arms, his eyes now fully on Greg and it send a little shiver down Greg’s spine. It always does when Sherlock has his full attention on him. It makes Greg want to sit up straighter and push his chest out to look bigger. It makes him want to preen like a peacock and it’s maybe a little unsettling, how he wants to please this brilliant and gorgeous Omega. 

“Oh, trust me. I pay attention to you.” Greg says now, his voice maybe a little too rough for the conversation they are having and Greg clears his throat, eyes scanning the room. Some of the other Alpha’s are looking their way briefly and it takes all of Greg’s self control to not growl at them. Maybe that is also a little unsettling, that typical display of Alpha behavior. Wanting to show the other Alpha’s in the room that Sherlock is his. 

Which is insane, because Sherlock isn’t his. But part of him always seems to forget that, wanting to snap and growl at every Alpha they come across. 

“That- you sound like a serial killer.” Sherlock states, squinting his eyes as he looks at Greg, tilting his head and Greg bites the inside of his cheek to stop himself from drooling at the sight before him. Sherlock’s neck is long and pale, a few freckles showing from underneath his shirt collar in this position. Greg shifts on his chair, letting out a breath to try and calm his traitorous body. 

“Oi!” 

“I mean, if that is how you seduce people then I’m starting to understand why you are still single.” Sherlock says, grabbing his own cup of coffee and drinking it.

“And I’m starting to understand why you are.” Greg retorts, keeping his focus on the conversation between them and not on seduction. Seducing Sherlock, and how good it would feel to finally hold him in his arms, or to touch him for more than 5 seconds. 

“I don’t want a relationship, Lestrade. They are too much work, too much emotion.” 

“You say emotion like a serial killer would.” Greg says, a smile on his face when Sherlock rolls his eyes. 

“Maybe I am. Half of the idiots in class seem to think so.” Sherlock shrugs a shoulder before looking down at his homework again. It twists something inside Greg’s stomach, wanting to punch all the idiots in their class and outside of it. Everyone who’s ever made Sherlock feel sad or angry. Greg wants to punch them all. 

“You are weird. But not evil like a serial killer.” Greg says after a moment, not even pretending to work on his assignment anymore. They’ve been here for almost two hours and all the words on Greg’s papers and textbook are starting to swim into each other. He sighs, rubbing his eyes and closing his books, making Sherlock look up, reading to protest when Greg cuts him off. 

“You could smile more, though.”

@chained-to-the-mirror A little snippet for you. The first 639 words of the currently 3970 I have.

[akwolfgrl]

Witches of 221b

Sherlock paced the floor of her flat. She had sent the homeless network on the task of hunting the women down. She had once more run out of cigarettes and was too wound up to roll more. How hard is it to find a blonde omega witch? She most likely had a large familler, most like a k9. K9s were common with both normal military and police personnel and witches who used to be military. Witches and magicians were not allowed in the military. There was something about the blonde, even with just a glance that fascinated Sherlock. Suziria glared at the door.

"Someone's coming," They spoke, still looking at the door from their perch on Sherlock's leather chair. Suziria was excellent at sensing a magician’s own brand of magic.

Sure enough, Sherlock heard the front open and close and steps on their way up. She rushed to fling the door open to see Ansel, one of the members of the homeless network.

"I think I found her, Doc. She heals people who can't or won't go in, but her familiar isn't a K9 like you said. Come quick, Del’s been hurt, and she's quick," Ansel spoke, looking worried, glancing back at the door. "He's hurt real bad," Ansel and Del were a mated pair of betas.

"Then let's be off," Sherlock put her long coat on with a swish of dark purple magic as Suziria scrambled up to her shoulder.

Ansel quickly turned and headed back down the steps Sherlock hot on his heels. He lead her down an alley where a portal awaited on the wall. She watched as he took out his chalk. It was so very bizarre how a magician's tool was so ordinary looking. A simple piece of chalk is used to create doors and portals. It had a faint glow about it. Her power wasn't as attuned to magician’s but she was working on it. Ansel drew a glowing number two on the top corner of the door as he stepped through. Familiars being made of Magic didn't count. Sherlock stepped through as well. When she stepped onto the other side, the sight that greeted her was one that she hadn't quite been expecting.

Del laid on the ground, a large piece of metal sticking out of side blood oozing from the wound. Del was a new magician with rings that allowed him to control metal. He must have been practicing and took on more than he could handle. The blonde from before came to kneel beside him, and a large white leopard joined her. Sherlock stayed out of sight wishing to observe the goings on.

"Doc, will he be ok?" Ansel asked, coming to kneel near Dels' head stroking his hair.

"He will be fine," Doc reassured him. Sherlock wasn't so sure ‘minor healing’ abilities could handle such a wound; however, she had a medical bag next to her, and they did call her Doc. The omega could have been a doctor before becoming a witch.

Sherlock stood and watched as the other omega removed the metal from Del's side as he screamed and sobbed in pain. Ansel tried his best to soothe his partner.

"Fuck, it hit an artery," The blood that had been an ooze began to pool rapidly underneath them. "Roshanak, put him to sleep," She ordered her familiar. The name was Persian, roughly meaning bright or shining. Going by the size it was a safe deduction to assume that the familiar was a Persian Leopard.

Roshanak placed a large paw on Del and soon he fell asleep, familiar’s magic never appeared to her, perhaps because they were beings of magic, familiars could hide when they wished to but Sherlock could always see them. Sherlock did hope for Del's sake that it was a painless death. He had been useful many times, and Ansel would be useless for some time after Dels' passing. Sherlock bit her lip to keep any noise of surprise from slipping out as they watched the blonde witch stick her hand into the wound as it began to glow a bright golden light. The blood began to slow drastically as the nicked artery began to close. They removed their bloody hand and placed both on the outer wound, and both hands were bathed once more in the light. Del's flesh began to knit back together. That was no minor healing at all.

The blonde witch removed their hands and leaned against their familiar. Sherlock stepped out of the shadows and began to walk towards them, Roshanak watching her the entire time.

"Will Del be alright, Doc?”

"Yes, he will be just fine," She replied.

"Who's the friend you bought with you?" Roshanak spoke with a growl in her deep voice.

"Sherlock Holmes. I must say that was some impressive magic I just saw," Scalpels and a gun rose in the air, a haze of gold covering the objects pointing at Sherlock.

[smbhax]

Astro Boy: Omega Factor (GBA)

[consult-sherlockholmes]

if sherlock was an omega would he pop his heat suppressants like he does his drugs 🤔🤔

A what? Heat supressants? Like for temperature?

[passionpluto]

after making my way through my sherlock holmes collection for the last couple months or so, i've finally figured out how to explain valka and omega's relationship to the agent:

"basically holmes and watson as magical girls except watson turns magical girl after some villain figures out they can get to holmes better that way and your entire perception of what they are to each other depends on how homoerotically you, as a reader, see holmes and watson's relationship in the original text"