#a/b/o cod

[gremlinmodetweeker]

Kinktober Day 6-A/B/O

Okay so I have been doing Kinktober on my KoFi HERE but I really liked how this one came out, so I'm posting it here. It's not actually a part of the A/B/O universe I'm writing, but rather an aside to it. Just a little oneshot in the same base universe.

Anyways, MDNI because this fic deals with mature subjects.

For access to all the other Kinktober content, check out my KoFi HERE

TW: A/B/O dynamics (alpha beta omega), smut, chair sex, office sex. heats and ruts

Wordcount 3.9k

Art from This Post

Kinktober Day 6-A/B/O

König was always a strange sort of alpha. He was at the top of the pack, an alpha A, so it made no sense that he trembled in the corners of the room whenever you entered. He was a colonel, for fuck’s sakes! Why on earth did he shy away whenever you, a measly little omega O, came up to him and asked him if he had his morning coffee already?

You ruminated over the question all day every day. Why was your commanding officer, the hottest and most viable bachelor on base, also afraid of any and all attention? You tried to make sense of it, but nothing came to fruition. So, without a clear answer, you turned towards more underhanded methods of finding out.

“So how long was he with the Austrian military?” you asked your friend nonchalantly.

Horangi mulled over the question briefly before shrugging, “Long enough to get to the rank of colonel, that’s all I can really say.”

“Is it classified, or…”

“I just don't know,” Horangi admitted.

Drat. You’d have to try again.

“So, you said he’s always been a bit shy?” you passed Askel his morning coffee, saving König’s for last (as always, you liked to end the round end on the sweetest note).

“Well, I’ve never known him to be different,” Askel shrugged.

“Not even on duty?” you asked.

“Oh on duty he’s an animal,” Askel shuddered, “I’ve seen him rip out a man’s throat with his teeth. Fucking insane.”

You shuddered at the thought, if a bit turned on. You’d need to unpack that later. Someday. Not today.

When you gave König his coffee, he looked as docile as a lamb. The thought of his marking fangs sinking into your neck haunted you the rest of the day.

You woke up to your heat consuming you. Of course your heat would be on a day you had a meeting, of course it would be extremely important, and of course it was with König. If you could roll your eyes harder they’d be on the floor. Or at least, if you weren’t consumed by voracious need. 

You were drenched in sweat as you scrabbled for your heat suppressants. Within half an hour of shoving them in your mouth, you had finally calmed yourself enough to be able to relax. With a sigh, you put yourself together and headed out the door.

You went through your day casually, others bemoaning the lack of coffee in the morning in your absence. You laughed them off, explained that your heat made you late, and most of them shared a short laugh with you. The only one to have a curious response was König.

“Ah, you came!” his little cheer significantly brightened your day.

“You missed your coffee?” you smirked.

König shook his head, “Nein, I just like seeing your smile every morning.”

Your ears turned red as you turned your head to hide your face, “Well, it’s always great seeing you too König.”

“You will come for the meeting today, ja?” bless his sweet Austrian accent, it made everything he said both hotter and sweeter.

“I mean, yeah,” you shrugged, “it’s in boardroom C, right?”

“Well... Ach,” König faltered momentarily, “I heard that the director is on sick leave, so you only have to present to me today. I was, ah…” he scratched the back of his head, “wondering if maybe you’d be fine if we moved it to my office?”

“No, but it’s far from my office,” König’s eyes glanced down to the ground.

You raised an eyebrow but you simply replied, “Is the boardroom busy?”

“If it makes it easier than sure,” you agreed, “where’s your office?”

“I can pick you up from your office,” he offered quickly.

“Oh if you can show the way that’ll be great,” you grinned.

He nodded firmly, and with that you were on your way.

When you got to your desk, you couldn’t help but look forward to the meeting with König. It wasn’t often you got time with the big man, so any interaction you had with him was more than welcome. You tapped away at your keyboard, dragged and dropped appropriate files and deleted extraneous ones as KorTac asked. You acted the perfect part of the pencil pusher, and you were perfectly content with your position as a cog in the machine. Once, you might have raged against your position, but these days you’d found some comfort in the monotony.

Time passed by quickly, all things considered. Sure you’d spent far too much time playing games on your phone, and you certainly didn’t need to use the washroom for that long, but other than that it was a nice, easy day to relax.

You crawled from your cubical to the cafeteria, wondering if maybe they’d finally be serving that pasta salad again. It wasn’t often that they served it, but when they did it might as well have been your birthday.

You passed by the daily menu, a skip in your step when you saw your beloved salad in pink chalk writing.

After you’d filled your plate and taken a seat, you pulled out your bag to look for the next does of heat suppressants. You dug your hand in, but when it came out your palms were empty. You frowned and looked around again, this time taking objects out of your bag as panic rose in your chest. Your notebook flopped on the table, followed by your phone and your wallet, then your keys, and then that pack of gum you thought you lost, and then you were shaking your bag upside down frantically in search of the pills. Around you, people were starting to stare, but in your frantic state of mind you figured that they were all looking at a young omega O in heat, ripe for the taking.

You scrambled to put your things back in place and hurry out of the luncheon, only to run face-first into the very last person you wanted to see.

“Ah! Just the person I was looking for!”

If only you could reach his neck to strangle him.

“Oh hey König! Just coming in for lunch?” you forced your lips into a wide smile.

“Nein,” König leaned against the doorframe, effectively blocking you in, “I just wanted to get some coffee before out meeting. You’re still okay with it being in my office?”

Had König always smelt so good?

You shivered. You needed to get out of here, and fast.

“Well, I’m actually not feeling so well,” you tried to say lightly, “so is there any way we can maybe push this back a day?”

“Well, the mission starts tomorrow,” König tilted his head as his brows knit together, “how about we do it now and get it over with quickly?”

You paled as König turned his back and motioned for you to follow. Ever the submissive omega, you were quick to follow him down the halls.

“Do I actually have to be here?” you asked nervously, “I mean, you’re the one making the decisions, right? You’re pretty big around here.”

“It’s just protocol,” König explained as he held the door open for you, “why don’t you take a seat and I’ll get right into it.”

“Um, König…” you trailed off as the scent of him slammed into you. 

“I assure you we’ll be quick,” König assured you as he swung into his chair, “you can use-” König froze. You watched as his mask fluttered with a few quick sniffs. He slowly turned to look at you, his eyes darting over your form before finally making eye contact.

“Ah.”

“I’m so sorry,” you hissed, “but sir if I could please get home I can-”

“No.”

You frowned, “Why not?”

“You’d be putting yourself at risk,” König said quickly, “think about where we work.”

“What do you mean?” you cringed into your seat when König took a deep breath.

“KorTac is a private military company,” König explained with strained patience, “we don’t hire many good people here. Maybe you’re safe in the offices, but the soldiers aren’t hired based on morality, ja?”

Your eyes widened as you realized what he was trying to say. 

“Then what the hell am I supposed to do?” you asked.

König drummed his fingers on the table. His eyes flicked around the room as he tried to think of an idea, but just when you gave up on an answer he finally gave a curt nod.

“You’ll stay in my office for the day,” he concluded.

You raised an eyebrow at the suggestion.

“Do you need anything from your desk? I can grab it for you,” König offered.

You offered up a few things that you figured you might need, and König was off in an instant.

With nothing to occupy your hands, you leaned back in your chair and looked around König’s office. It was a small room for such a big man, and particularly for such a high ranking soldier. You could see a display of various medals hung proudly on the wall, all brightly coloured and shining bright under the glass. His desk was covered in various sticky notes for different tasks all written in blue ink. In the window frame there was a dated picture of a family, presumably König’s. There were notably few traces of his personal life, now that you noticed it. He was clearly extremely proud of his career, but his actual personal life was absent save for the single picture of his family.

He could hide his life, but he couldn’t hide his scent. In the haze of your oncoming heat, his scent provided a safety blanket to swaddle yourself in. Now that you were alone, you could truly let yourself go in it. The rich scent soothed your mind, albeit only just barely. What you really needed was more.

As your heat took over, your rational mind slipped away. As such, you didn’t really fight the urge to grab König’s jacket before wrapping it around you. Now you were feeling a bit better. You had a dominant scent to surround you now, soothing your frazzled nerves. Your nose was enveloped by the musky scent of an alpha, serving as a barrier between you and the rest of the world.

The best part, other than the scent, was the sheer warmth that radiated from the jacket. One wouldn’t think an army jacket would be so warm, but for such a high ranking commander he was granted certain luxuries. The light fleece lining wasn’t much, but it was the perfect buffer between you and the cold of the office.

You nuzzled into the large jacket, dwarfing your form in every which way. It draped over your form like a great tent, holding you safe from the elements. How strange that a cheap military-issue jacked was such a treasured vestment in your hands. The outer fabric scratched at you and crinkled with your movements, the inner fleece was cheap and flimsy, and yet it was nothing short of sacred to you. You could die right here and your life would be complete.

As you nuzzled into the jacket, you heard the door behind you creak open.

You turned to face the intruder, finding only König barely managing to hold all your belongings in his large arms.

“Oh you didn’t have to-”

“It’s fine,” his voice was tight as he delicately (messily) put your belongings on the cleanest part of his desk.

You looked down at the jacket, now rags in your hands compared to the alpha before you.

“You can keep that on,” König sat down in his chair, pointedly looking at his screen, “I know omegas like those sorts of things.”

You nodded. You couldn’t even bother to attempt to think about working. All you wanted now was the alpha in front of you.

König noticed you wriggling in your chair from the corner of his eye.

“Are you okay?” he asked gingerly.

“Yep,” your answer was far too clipped to be okay.

“Is the heat coming on?” he asked, his breathing notably shallow.

You hesitated, then nodded shamefully.

König hissed as he looked at the door, then turned to face you again, “Would it help to be close to me?”

You nodded desperately.

He swiveled his chair to the side and spread his legs, “Come on,” he patted his thighs for you.

You didn’t need to be told twice. In an instant, you were curled into his lap and snuggling into his chest. You barely heard his soft groan as you snuggled into him, finally at ease with the world now that you were surrounded by him, caged between the alpha and his desk as he worked.

You settled in his lap with a sigh. He was so wonderfully warm. His jacket was nothing compared to his broad chest and soft tummy. He was glorious in how he radiated just the perfect amount of heat. From here, you could feel his breaths as they fanned out under his mask, could feel the soft fabric fluttering over you as he huffed and puffed. You smiled to yourself when you heard him grumble about some new contracts König had to sign off, bitterly muttering about a waning budget and a particularly wealthy CEO. You didn’t pay much attention, simply comfortably relaxed in König’s arms.

As you nestled into his side, you could feel him tentatively shifting and adjusting around you. He moved you ever so slightly, jostling you from a deep sleep. You were about to snap at him when you felt the lump in his lap.

“I’m so sorry,” König hissed as he hurriedly tried to adjust himself out of the way.

“Don’t be,” you were surprised by your own command.

König, not a man who was keen on being ordered around like a common foot soldier, bristled at your tone. You hurriedly ran a hand along his chest and let out a soft trill to calm him, a little trick omegas could use when needed. You hated to do it, but you weren’t really you at that moment.

“I’m the one who should be sorry,” you tried at assure him, “I’m the one that forgot my pills at home.”

König shuffled awkwardly (you fell further in his lap but made no comment), “I like this, though.”

That threw you for a loop.

“What do you mean?” you asked.

“I sometimes liked to think about this happening,” König admitted, “I wondered what it would be like to be your alpha while you’re in heat. I liked thinking about helping you through it.”

You were floored by how forward he was. No alpha ever dared to be so open with an omega, most certainly not one like you. You barely even knew König, and here he was telling you that he wanted to help you through your heat. Your mind boggled at his audacity.

You looked down at your hands and flushed, “I thought about you being my alpha before too.”

You heard a sharp inhale above.

“König?” you asked carefully.

“Ja?”

“You okay?”

König nodded slowly, “Better than okay.”

You relaxed in his arms, “I always wanted you as an alpha.”

König finally ducked his head to look down at you, his eyes lidded and soft, “Then what’s stopping you?”

You snorted, “Aren’t we at the office?”

“Do you really care?” König drawled.

You didn’t.

You tentatively reached up to his hood and tugged on it to bring you closer, guiding him closer and closer before lifting up the fabric to reveal a thin mouth with a large scar dragging from the corner of his mouth. You couldn’t care less, only pressing a kiss against his lips, soft as down but rich with wanting. König was more than happy to reply in turn, bringing you to him and adjusting you so that you straddled his lap. You let him guide you over him, letting you unbutton his military shirt and grind against the hardening bulge in his lap.

You kissed in a fervor, over and over as you both undressed each other until you were finally able to embrace properly. 

König kissed the scent glands on your neck and said, “I’m sorry, but I’m a big man, even for an alpha. I’ll do my best, but-”

“I don’t care,” you kissed him again and again, “I don’t care.”

He groaned and dropped a hand to your crotch, letting you grind against his hands as they pressed against your entrance. Even now his hands were big, almost all-consuming as he gathered your slick and split you open on his fingers. You cried out as he pushed in, but he was dauntless in his efforts. He was more than glad to keep going, pushing you as you whined and pushed down to bring him further in. You were desperate for more, and he was more than glad to give, pushing in an additional finger to help shape you for his cock.

His other hand grazed over your chest, gently thumbing your nipple as he stretched you open. You whined at the new touch. He was more than happy to shape his hand to your chest and tweak on your nipples, gently rubbing and pinching them to further excite you. You pushed your chest out for him, and he gladly dipped his head down to suck on you. Pleasure shot down to your core, guiding you through the haze of passion. His tongue came out, licking and lapping at you as though you were his last meal. He cherished you, held you, sucked on your buds as he pushed you further and further into oblivion.

“König, please,” you gasped, scrabbling at his waist with limp hands.

König groaned and pulled himself from his boxers with a few tugs. He lined you up on his tip and pressed another kiss to you.

“You’re perfect,” was all you heard before you felt the stretch of him entering you.

He was enormous inside you. Just his head took a minute for you to adjust to him, and that was only the start of him. Even as he pushed you down, you felt like you were slowly coming apart at the seams. He was a massive being in every way.

You slunk lower, lower and lower down onto his length before your hips finally met. König licked at the crook of your neck reverently as you adjusted to him within you.

It took longer than expected, but soon you were rocking your hips against him for more.

König chuckled, but was more than happy to start thrusting within you.

You grabbed onto him, unsheathing your claws and digging into his skin. You curled into him as he pushed into you steadily, thrusting at a slow, steady pace as he prepared you for himself. You cried out at him, but you were unable to do much more than beg and plead as he worked you along.

His hips picked up. Now you could feel the mounting pleasure within you. It was a coil tightening within you, winding you round and round as he pushed up into you. His cock was heavy within you as he moved, dragging along your insides before slamming back in with a grunt. He was huge, impossible to stop. You wouldn’t dare try to stop him, anyways.

You bent over him and relished in his touch. He held you close, burrowing his face into the scent glands on your neck and drawing in as much as he could. You let his scent wash over you, claim you fully and completely. You were his now, his omega. You were more than happy to let him take you as his, now and forever. You never wanted to be apart again. How could you? You were finally whole, and he was the piece you’d been searching for your entire life.

You folded over König as he fucked you relentlessly. His groans and the creaking of the chair sang through the air, accompanied only by your soft pants and moans when he fucked you harder than before. When you tried to cover your mouth, he pulled your hand away with a laugh.

“Let them all know you belong to me,” König panted, “I don’t want anyone else to touch you.”

He held you far too tightly for your poor body, and soon you were bruising under his titanic grip. He fucked you like an animal, like a monster, like a stranger like a lover. He held you as though he’d never felt another’s touch before in his life.

He grunted like a beast as he fucked you. He was like a starving thing, deprived of his one true calling all his life up until this point. He was created by death to make love like no other. He was a beautiful, wonderful thing.

You held onto him to the ebay of your abilities, but you could feel yourself unraveling at the edges. Your stitches unwove from the fabric, your insides spilled over the spear of his cock. He knew violence where you knew softness, and he taught you his savage ways with each thrust.

You threw your head back as he brought you to the edge. You were closer than ever, unable to think of anything but the sounds of your bodies meeting and your voices calling out for each other. You needed him, needed his body, needed his cock, needed him-

You came over him as he gave you one final thrust. His knot ballooned inside you, filling you to the brim as he flooded your womb with his spend. You could feel him filling you, further and further until you cried because it was too much. He was too big, he came too much, it was all too much but he knew, he knew and he loved you for it. He kissed all over you, praising you for taking him so well. You only sniveled as he tenderly pulled you back together. He pushed your stuffing in place, sewed you back up with each press of a kiss against your miraculously unbroken neck gland. You could hardly believe he hadn’t marked you by now, but König was too good a man to claim you without consent.

“Just relax,” you heard him whisper into your ear, “you need to relax for my knot.”

You nodded and settled yourself in his lap, letting yourself slump with the weight of your orgasm. He rubbed your back, soothing you as you came down from your high. König pressed little kisses against your forehead and cheeks, over and over as you relaxed onto him. You shivered, only now feeling how cold the office was.

“One sec,” König grumbled, twisting ever so carefully to grab the jacket and drape it over your shoulders, “there. Better?”

You nodded sleepily.

“Good omega,” König muttered as he leaned back into his chair, his knot tugging slightly with him, “take it all, nice and easy.”

You fell asleep with his knot still swelled inside you, the fervor of your heat sated, if only just for a few hours.

“We’ll talk more when you wake up,” König promised.

You mumbled an agreement and let yourself relax.

Konig Dump

Alternate Universes

NSFW Fanfiction

KoFi HERE

[ink-n-shadow]

Being knotted in John’s lap as he mumbles that he’s gonna breed you full of his babies right here in his office

(Or literally any of them bc 🫠🫠)

Or your boys rubbing their faces in your neck before they go to work in the morning bc they’ll be damned if they don’t go to work smelling like you

the second idea is so adorable heLLO???

SCENTING

𝜗𝜚 the one about how the pack!141 scents you (almost) every day

𝜗𝜚 pairing: packforce!141 x omega!reader 𝜗𝜚 cw: slight smut at the end (minors—DNI), scenting, kissing/sucking scent glands, fingering (reader!receiving), allusions to threesome at the end

it would become so routine and mundane for the five of you, something that came almost as natural to you as breathing.

the routine would begin at around 4 in the morning when john begins stirring in bed, mumbling out your name as his hands pat around the mattress and other bodies for you. once he found you (which was curled up with johnny, most of the time), he’d tug you against him, instinctively burying his face into the side of your throat and nudging your scent gland with the tip of his nose. he would lap at it, give it a bite or two, smother it in soft almost feathery kisses, anything to make your sugary sweet scent stick to his skin.

and once john’s had his fill and gets out of bed to amble downstairs for coffee and a cigar, simon’s coming up from behind, tugging your back against his chest and holding your throat in the palm of his hand as he immediately attaches himself to your gland. he’s more primal in his movements than john is, taking long (almost lewd) drawn out sniffs from your neck as he rubs his stubbled cheeks in the smell of you. (he may or may not dip his fingers beneath the waistband of your underwear, sliding through the wetness there before bringing his fingers up to lap at hungrily. but hey! at least he makes you come!)

seeing you whimpering and slack across the mattress is what makes kyle move over in bed, gathering your now jellied form into his arms and pushing your head into the crook of his neck. because kyle’s a beta, there is no scent gland for you to nuzzle into, but the smell of soap and lotion on his skin is enough to have you further relaxing in his arms, head still spinning and clit still throbbing beneath your underwear.

johnny only scoots over in the bed and cuddles up with you from behind when he notices the lack of body heat against him, making him whine sleepily and paw at the mattress until he finds you against kyle. by now, you’re drowning in the different scents covering your skin, not to mention the new scent of arousal and slick festering between your thighs. johnny finds comfort in them all, which immediately has his brain feeling dumbed and his cock twitching to attention.

if it’s not too late, johnny will let you ride him, with kyle in front of you and guiding your movements with his large hands pawing at your hips. if it is too late, then kyle’s drawing johnny out of bed with promises of a blowie in the shower

©️ ink-n-shadow 2024

do not copy, plagiarize, steal, borrow, or repost any of my work without my expressed permission

[soaps-mohawk]

Summary: Task Force 141 operates successfully without an omega, at least that’s what Price has been saying since its formation. Two alphas and two betas balance the pack just fine, and they have the numbers to prove it.

It works for a while, until the Omega Initiative is born and the 141 find themselves having to adjust to the sudden addition of an omega to their pack. Fresh out of an institute, you’re hardly fit for their secretive, dangerous world, or so Price thinks. 

As each member of the team gets closer to you, things begin to come to light, not only about you but about the decision to force you into their lives.

Maybe, just maybe, Price was wrong and the 141 does need an omega after all. 

Pairings: Poly 141 x reader, Price x Gaz, Ghost x Soap

Warnings: Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, NSFW content, explicit smut, fingering, oral (m and f receiving), knotting, biting, claiming, mating cycles, Alternate Universe, a/b/o typical classism and sexism, age differences, military inaccuracies, canon typical violence, blood, weapons, language, no use of Y/N, brief torture, hurt/comfort, let's be real this is so unrealistic but it's a/b/o you're not here for accuracy.

Chapters containing smut are marked with a *

Updates are posted on the weekends, either Saturday or Sunday PST

This fic can also be found on my Ao3 -> HERE

I will no longer be using a taglist for this fic, please follow THIS BLOG and turn on notifications

**This fic is currently in progress**

NAVIGATION PAGE

CRCB DIRECTORY

Part 1 - The Omega

Chapter 1 - The Introduction

Chapter 2 - Adjustments

Chapter 3 - Speak Their Language

Chapter 4 - You Can Be Useful

Chapter 5 - What I Want *

Part 2 - The Bond

Chapter 6 - One Step Closer *

Chapter 7 - Sweet Strawberry

Chapter 8 - The Thing About Ghost

Chapter 9 - Save Me

Chapter 10 - Treat Me Gently*

Part 3 - The First Heat

Chapter 11 - It's Coming

Chapter 12 - Fire In My Veins*

Chapter 13 - Piece Me Back Together*

Chapter 14 - The Aftermath*

Part 4 - The New Normal

Chapter 15: Bonnie*

Chapter 16: Big Brown Eyes *

Chapter 17: Alone

Chapter 18: Don't Let Me Go

Chapter 19: Daddy Issues

Chapter 20: The New Normal *

Chapter 21: Crime and Punishment *

Chapter 22: I Won't Be Gentle

Part 5 - A Pack of Five

Chapter 23: Regrets

Chapter 24: The Last First Time *

Chapter 25: Animals *

Chapter 26: Fuck *

Chapter 27: Drown In It *

Chapter 28: Two Is Company, Three Is A Party *

Chapter 29: There's Something Wrong With My Omega

Part 6 - The Tragedy

Chapter 30: Butterfly's Wings

Chapter 31: Forced Proximity

Chapter 32: The Tragedy

Chapter 33: Ghosts of the Past

Chapter 34: The Whole Truth

Part 7 - The Aftermath

Chapter 35: Threads

Chapter 36: To The Sea

Chapter 37: The Silence

Chapter 38: Shattered

Chapter 39: Life

Part 8 - The Next Chapter

Chapter 40: Where Do We Go From Here

Chapter 41: Revenge

Chapter 42: Comfort and Joy

Chapter 43: Lies

Title card made by the beautiful @141wh0re

[charliemwrites]

Omegas are the best for the military. Everyone knows that, it’s just common sense.

Omegas are notoriously level-headed and calm, protective without the tendency towards aggression and territorial possessiveness that characterizes their Alpha counterparts. They’re cooperative and adaptable, with heightened senses that at one evolutionary time kept them safe from rabid Alphas.

Now, it’s best suited to sniffing out potential threats, communicating sub-vocally, and noticing the smallest changes in their environment. The military finds them much more economical for combat, special ops, and even espionage compared to Alphas, who are pheromone sensitive, hard-headed, and generally indelicate.

That said, they’re not without their uses. Alphas tend to be lean, fast, and vicious. That aggression makes them both sword and shield in a fight, filing their sense of pain and fatigue down to almost nothing until the threat is neutralized.

Still, having a full-time Alpha in a squad isn’t a necessity except in special circumstances.

Per usual, Task Force 141 is special circumstances.

Four specialist Omegas with a metric ton of trauma per team member has the unfortunate consequence of hormonal imbalance. One thing feeds into another, a heat is put on hold for a mission because they can’t spare the manpower - it stacks and stacks and stacks until sleep is scarce and their usually well-maintained instincts are bursting at the seams. Compound that with the near loss of one of their team members…

The new Alpha is already there when the team returns from their latest assignment.

Laswell is waiting on the tarmac and an operative in black gear is standing a polite distance (plus one step more) from her elbow. Well within peripheral, but deferent. Their hands are clasped behind their back, shoulders straight but loose.

As TF141 approaches, Price expects the Alpha pheromones to waft his way any moment. It’s normal, expected even. A new environment, meeting strange Omegas, Alphas usually burn through their neutralizers quickly. Perhaps a vestigial instinct to carve a space for themselves in the world. Not necessarily their fault, but it happens.

Price is surprised that he smells nothing from the Alpha at all. Just the scents of detergent and soap, clean and standard. A quick glance at Simon confirms their most-sensitive nose doesn’t detect anything either.

Laswell introduces them, an Alpha that she’s personally worked with before and can verify is solid both on and off the field.

The Alpha’s muzzle is heavy duty but long-wear design. Hard-case and rigid instead of the more popular soft and flexible ones. Cushioned but firm at the bridge of the nose, chin, and corners of the jaw. Buckled tight at the back of the head, steel grid pattern across the front.

Price doesn’t arch his eyebrows at it but it’s a near thing.

They duck their head in greeting when Laswell introduces them as Saint, eyes flicking up briefly to each team member, eye-shine reflecting green in the bright runway lights.

Soap whistles, impressed.

“Yer a big ‘un, tha’s fer damn sure. Didnae ken they make ‘em like ye,” he drawls. Ghost cuffs him upside the head, reminding him to behave.

Saint blinks and doesn’t say anything. Curious.

“Let’s do proper introductions inside,” Price decides.

It goes much the same way in the 141’s den as it did out on the tarmac. Saint stands quiet and still while the Omegas take their turns.

There’s no scent to familiarize themselves with, so it’s mostly offering theirs to the Alpha. Except Saint doesn’t duck down to the neck Gaz offers. Instead, they pluck up his hand and bring his wrist to their muzzle. Inhale so quietly that only the swell of their chest indicates that they’re breathing him in.

They chuff softly, hold so loose that Gaz’s hand nearly drops from theirs. It’s approval, it can’t be anything else, but it sounds so… detached.

Still, Gaz chuffs in return, and makes way for the others. Saint does the same to Soap and by the time Simon steps up, he’s already tugging his sleeve up and his glove down.

Simon, to his own surprise, receives the same polite huff as the two sergeants. Most Alphas have found his direct scent to be unpleasant - too sharp and savory, bordering on Alpha. But Saint doesn’t seem to mind in the slightest.

When it’s finally Price’s turn, the only difference is that Saint swipes their own wrist along his. Scent claim. Not marking the 141 as theirs, but rather Saint as belonging with them.

Laswell, suspiciously amused, takes her leave soon after.

The 141 has an Alpha. A permanent one.

Living with an Alpha would have been a learning curve on its own. Living with SAINT is something else entirely.

For one, they apply clinical-strength neutralizer religiously. They have spares stashed everywhere. In their go-bag, their combat gear, the den, the lockers - even one in Price’s office. It’s better than the ones with fragrance, but if not for their ever-present muzzle, no one would be able to tell that they’re an Alpha.

And speaking of the muzzle.

It goes beyond common courtesy and public conduct. Even in the den, they keep the thing tightly pressed to their face, and don’t remove it for anything. They eat in their room and drink through straws when necessary.

When Price tells them that the team wouldn’t mind if they used a bite guard in the den, they just chuff softly and brush a hand along his shoulder. The muzzle stayed.

It’s not to say they don’t seem comfortable. Day by day, little signs of trust and ease seep into their Alpha’s mannerisms if they know where to look for it. A brush of skin here, a sub-vocal purr there. Spending hours upon hours in the den, available for any of the Omegas to sit with or cuddle or chat to. As much as teammate as an Alpha in the traditional sense.

It doesn’t take Soap and Gaz long at all to start hanging all over them, but Saint takes it with all the patience of their namesake. Price finds Soap lounging in their lap most times that they’re sitting, or leaning hard into their side while they watch recruits.

The muzzle is a no-touch zone, but they don’t get even growl the first time Soap discovers that. They just redirect him with a quiet click of their tongue, and let him nuzzle in when he apologizes.

Gaz is hardly any better, scent marking Saint like some bad Alpha stereotype. Poor thing goes around smelling overwhelmingly of bergamot and honey sometimes, but they never mind, never stop him from pressing his face to their chest or their back or even into their hands. Rubbing his face over any bit of skin or fabric available, even their jugular, despite the vulnerability of such a spot.

Still, Saint is aloof.

They’re perfectly responsive to their Omegas, head tilting at the slightest vocalization, quick to offer physical comfort when asked. They hardly ever seek it out for themself though, and show none of the near-obsessive behaviors associated with even the most mild of Alphas on the spectrum.

“I dinnae think Alpha likes us,” Soap whines one evening.

Saint is eating in their room, leaving the Omegas to a cuddle pile while they wait for their return.

He’s been lamenting it for a while now, repressing the rejected pang in his gut any time Saint doesn’t vocalize back, or reach for them first.

They work out in the Alpha-Only gym on base and do their laundry in the designated Alpha wash. Neither of those are regulations, it’s a choice they make. And it hurts a bit.

Saint is sweet, but their politeness goes past the point of old-fashioned.

“Course they do,” Simon grunts, dismissive. “They probably like us too much.”

“How do you reckon?” Gaz asks.

“Alpha didn’ go t’ eat ‘til we were all fed,” he replies, shrugging.

And it’s true. Saint doesn’t collect a scrap of nutrition until every one of their Omegas has had something to eat. Even Price, stubborn and work-focused as he can be, is gently urged to eat before Saint fills their own belly.

It doesn’t stop there.

Saint is always the last one on or off a transport, and quick to notice if any of them are injured. They’re always present around large groups of other Alphas, especially recruits.

The sheer amount of time they spend available is unusual, preferring the den to rest in their off hours - even sleeping there on occasion.

Then Gaz’s heat is due. A week out and he’s already feeling it descending - it’s been well over six months since his last one. His skin feels itchy, his senses on overdrive. Thirsty and hungry and generally feeling restless beneath the skin.

“Alpha,” he calls.

Saint’s eyes are on him instantly, one-sided conversation with some other, non-Pack Omega forgotten. Gaz purrs, pleased.

“I want something of yours.”

They tilt their head, a silent question.

“A shirt or something,” he specifies.

And something in their gaze flickers. Gaz isn’t sure what it means, but it definitely looks positive.

Saint brings him something better - a blanket. It’s intimate; it’s perfect. It smells incredible, if… oddly faded. From his most reserved Pack member, it means the world.

Gaz balls himself up with it in the nest he assembles over the next day and a half, until he wakes up one morning with the knowledge that his heat will l well and truly have taken hold before midday.

He puts in his notice and calls his Pack.

Saint is the last to enter his barrack, a huge bag of supplies in their arms. Not just for Gaz, but for the rest of them. No one will be leaving unless duty calls.

And it’s perfect. The best heat Gaz has ever had. Surrounded by Pack and protected by his Alpha, who stays on watch while Price and Ghost and Soap fuck him through the dregs of preheat and well into Heat proper.

Half of him purrs at his Alpha’s dedication to protecting them, to providing for them. The other half protests the Alpha’s attention being anywhere but on him.

“Alpha,” he calls. And when that only earns him Saint’s eyes and not his affection, he barks, sharper, “Alpha.”

They come to him instantly, settled in between his legs, smooth their thumbs along the glands at the base of his neck. He curls into them trilling and chirping and needing more than just social acceptability right now.

And finally, finally, a low rumble sounds through his Alpha’s chest. It’s deep and rich, hits the subharmonics in a way that has all the Omegas going still and quiet. Their voice purrs out a moment later, practically vibrating their skulls.

“Easy, Omega.”

Gaz bares his neck, whispering, “Saint.”

They lean in, breathing loud and deep, warm hands soothing an ache in his lower back. “I’m here, Kyle.”

They fuck well into sundown, Kyle so wound up that he can’t bear to be parted from Saint to even let them breathe. Any space between them is whined or growled or bitten out of existence, the ever-indulgent Alpha soothing their Omega with their body, with the newly discovered vocalizations that he just can’t get enough of.

Ghost and Price have to feed and hydrate him between rounds, working together to manage his clingy limbs and careless (but sharp) teeth. In the meantime, Soap helps to do the same for Saint, who is far more cooperative.

“How’re you still goin’?” Soap wonders, amazed, slipping bites of granola between the bars of their muzzle. Saint is sitting upright with Gaz collected against their chest, sweaty but already breathing evenly again.

Saint licks a bit of chocolate off their lip and meets his eyes easy as anything, serene for how blown out their pupils are.

“I’m your Alpha. I go until you need me to stop.”

Which just sets them all off, each taking (needing) a turn with their Alpha.

By then, their neutralizer has begun to wear off, friction and sweat and fabric thinning the chemical deodorant to nothing. The scent is intoxicating, unlike anything any of them have ever smelled before. It’s overwhelmingly Alpha, overwhelmingly good. Even Ghost and Price, rare to bend the knee to anyone, find themselves weak for that scent.

No wonder Saint keeps it on lock, it’s practically a weapon in itself, not demanding submission but expecting it. A foregone conclusion. In a social setting it would be a brutal domination, rude wouldn’t even be the right word for it.

Saint isn’t just an Alpha, they’re on the extreme end of the spectrum.

The kind that comes with counseling and desensitizing therapies. Etiquette schools and specialized doctors.

The kind of Alpha that can not only manage four chaotic Omegas, but give them what they need.

With types like Saint, Alpha isn’t just a designation, it’s a title. And the 141 is proud that it’s theirs.

[nerdygirlramblings]

more omegaverse 141

You've been on base nearly six weeks and finally feel like you're setting into a routine. You get yourself up early, training yourself or your squad. You know omegas in active duty still carry a stigma, so you do your work before anyone else is up. No need trying to fight for a stall on the gun range against a bunch of alphas who don't believe you belong, or work in the gym to the whispers you know follow you everywhere. Better to get it done where they don't see.

You try to minimize your footprint on base, staying out of other soldiers' way and wearing scent blockers. You don't need to draw more attention to yourself. You're glad your work speaks for itself, but even that puts a target on your back.

You've already been approached by two alphas wanting to make you their pack omega. Both were clear, though, that they held traditional pack views. One was even ballsy enough to tell you you'd have your first pups within a year of his claiming.

He'd been stupid enough to bring all this up while sparring with you, expecting to prove he was better than you.

He ended up in medical with a broken nose and dislocated shoulder.

Price heard about these run-ins too and knew he needed to approach you differently, so when he sets his tray down a few seats from you at breakfast, you're not instantly wary. He glances at you as he eats, noting the array of fruits and protein on your tray. He appreciated that you ate healthy; it spoke volumes about how you'd play into pack dynamics.

He waits until you're nearly done to clear his throat and get your attention. You were the only two at the table, but that wasn't too uncommon. You knew your squad listened during trainings, but you weren't sure they entirely respected you, and with most of them betas, you understood the stigma that might follow them if they chose to socialize with you outside of trainings.

Price offers his wrist and waits. You look from Price's hand to his face and back before gently picking his hand up and smelling it. The light scent of smoldering embers and dying leaves and that unmistakable scent of alpha hits your nose. He smells like autumn, and you're momentarily disarmed.

"Cap'n John Price," he tells you. "Word 'a yer skill's makin' it's way 'round base." You make a noncommittal noise at that. You can only imagine the stories being told about you among the higher-ranking officers. "Got a proposition fer ya." You watch him, equal parts curious and wary. "Yer skills are just what my task force needs. 'Specially your work with ammunition. My sergeant said ya grouped head shots and center mass shots with three separate weapons."

You shrug. "Never saw the point in just gettin' good with one weapon, sir."

"And that's why 'm here," he says. "Wanna offer you a spot on the 141."

Your eyes widen and your breath catches. "What..." You've heard of task force 141. They're practically legends on base. "Are you... I mean..."

Your brain comes back online as you realize this isn't an alpha trying to breed you, this is a Captain building a strong, specialized group of soldiers, and he wants you to be part of it. There would be no higher complement, and no better way to prove omegas could be just as good in the field as betas and alphas. You quickly pull yourself together.

"That would be...it's an honor, sir. Thank you."

He watches your entire conflict and asks, clarifying, "So tha's a yes?"

"Yes, sir!" you reply enthusiastically.

next

[ghouljams]

ur post got me thinking about how vulnerable alphas go when the knot’s popped… like a mini stroke 😭

Oh my god yeah! Feeling the knot lock in place might make you go a little cross eyed with the way it grinds against your sensitive spots, but you gotta remember that your alpha is going a little dummy too. Sure there's the possibility that they'll grind it into you, really try to make your sensitive walls milk them for all they've got, but there's an even higher chance that the first squirm from you has their eyes rolling. Grip tightening on your hips as they mumble a low plea to stay still, or pressing their hips flush against yours to try and keep their knot exactly where it is...

Alphas are really at their most vulnerable when they're stuck inside you (or have you stuck inside them) it would be mean to take advantage of that fact in order to bite them as hard as you can.

Bite them. Bite them as hard as you can. Watch they way they dissolve into whimpering and whining for you, no matter how big and bad they pretend to be.

[angelloverambles]

Alpha!Nikto who feels like a failure as an alpha. As a result of his time with Mr. Z, his scent gland is damaged. Heavy scarring covering the area, making his scent hard to find. While it's helpful for the job, it's not helpful in attracting a mate. He’s getting older, he wants to settle down. Maybe have a pup or two. None of the other operators of KorTac know his want to find a mate, why would he bother to tell them? Why do they need to know? 

Until a scouting mission with you. An easy mission, really just sitting and waiting but in the heat of the sun? He's absolutely sweltering in his gear, his scent only truly clinging to his sweat. His scent is wonderfully masculine, smokey and warm like a bonfire, promising warmth and comfort. He doesn't say a word about his own scent, thinking you don't notice it, but it's hard to resist sliding closer to him. It’s hard to tame the urge to investigate further. 

Maybe he’d let you, all you'd have to do is ask…

[gazsdiary]

JOHNNY'S SECRET

Johnny Soap Mactavish x Reader (Later Poly!tf141 x reader)

ABO Universe

Oneshot: Johnny's Secret

Summary: Johnny has a secret and Gaz is determined to find out what is he is hiding that makes him smile like a fool. Or rather: who.

Warnings: none

Let me know if you want this to become a series!

(I do NOT allow anyone stealing, translating or imitating this work)

xoxo

Something was going on with Johnny. He had been disappearing at random hours for the last couple of days, nobody knew where he went. At first, none of them cared, maybe he was just getting some air or going to the bathroom. Who knows. He was always a bit weird if they were honest. However, Gaz had started noticing some slight changes in his new behaviour, or his new routine. For example, how he always disappeared at the same time, sometimes even leaving in the middle of lunch without giving any explanations. And always came back smiling. A stupid smile as Simon had named it, but a smile nonetheless. 

When Gaz has asked them about this Simon shrugged his shoulders and Price only frowned his lips saying that he’ll keep an eye on him. So he had made it his mission to find where his same-rank friend was when he disappeared. 

They had always been glued to the hip. Well, since he came around. It had been weird at the beginning. The connection they had, almost instantly, was electrifying. He was the one that introduced him to the rest of the pack, he would be forever thankful for that. However. 

There was no space for secrets in their relationship, and Johnny was hiding a big one. And it was Gaz’s responsibility to find out what it was, mostly for the pack stability he said. Mostly. Because, would he sound needy if he said he felt left out by his partner in crime?

That’s why he was there right now. Waiting for Johnny to come out of the medical hallway, leaning against the wall, waiting patiently looking at the door. Medical office 1. 263. First floor. Soap was there. He knew it. He had followed him all the way from the Mess, from a cautious distance. 

Is this where he had been disappearing all this time? Was he sick? Was it something so serious to hide it from the Pack? Worried fill him for a second before he heard the door open, Soap exiting with that fucking dumb smile. It fell rapidly from his face when he saw his packmate leaning against the wall, a frown adorning his forehead. 

“What’re ye doing here?” He asked in a huss, closing the door and walking fastly towards him. There was not an ounce of that smile anymore.

“What am I doing  here? Now you’re taking the piss” 

Soap growled grabbing him by the arm and dragging him around the corner, hiding away from the clinic, Gaz’s back was towards that direction.

“Listen, ye can’t be here. Ye donae get it. Just, trust me”

“You’ve been disappearing, no one knows where you are going and you tell me to go away? Me ? What the fuck is happening Johnny? Are you sick or som? You can trust me, you know-”

He almost fell forward, a weight crashing into him, hitting him on his back. 

“Ow! I’m so sorry about that, sir!” You apologised, never stopping your pace as you snuck around them “Oh, bye Johnny! See you tomorrow!” You didn’t stop walking down the hallway, slightly tripping over when you tried to catch your speed after that bump.

Gaz’s gaze followed your retreating form. You had bump into him and looked him in the eye as you apologised, you even smiled at him. He felt a warm feeling spreading inside his chest, his fingertips tingling. He had to stop the happy grumbles growing in his chest

“Who was that?”

“That’s gonna be our wife.”

[gremlinmodetweeker]

To Market to Market, to Buy A Fat Hog

Okay so this one made me really sad guys. Yes this is more alpha König and omega reader. This one actually made me feel really bad for König. I promise you it will get better! I do!!! I keep saying it because I really do mean it!!! AHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!

Anyways, in this part, König sends you out to market to pick up groceries, and you find a cute alpha who actually seems to like you. Meanwhile, König struggles with appearances and his feelings.

Anyways!

TW: near infidelity (does not actually happen but comes close to a kiss), König feeling very sad and conflicted

Wordcount: 3.8K words (about 9 pages in google docs guys this is big)

Art from this post

Story Below the Cut

To Market to Market, to Buy A Fat Hog

As it turned out, cooking for König was no joke. He was an alpha, so it wasn't a surprise to figure out that the man liked to eat, but what you didn’t realize was that he was picky about it to boot. He was so picky that you’d had to resort to finding your own transportation to go down to the grocery store to find more ingredients.

“What are you you doing?”

You turned around to see König standing behind you in the front hall, posed somewhere between the stairs and the landing.

“We’re out of tomatoes,” you replied, “I need to go to the store to get some more.”

“Why do you need tomatoes?” König asked.

“To make the ratatouille that you wanted so badly,” you explained as you sat on a wooden bench to put on your shoes, “you asked for it last night, remember?”

König nodded, “You’re right, I’m sorry. I forgot about that.”

“Didn’t you say you were looking forward to this?” you raised an eyebrow at him.

“I’ve been looking forward to the whole week,” König replied with a smirk.

“That’s just great,” you sighed as you brought yourself up to your feet.

“You know it’s going to rain out there, right?” König asked curiously.

“Oh,” you reached down to pick up an umbrella, "thanks.”

König watched as you fumbled with your keys before he asked, “So you’re going out like that?”

You looked over your shoulder at him, “Is there something wrong with how I look?”

König shook his head, “No, no not like that. I’m just wondering if… Well, maybe you should wear something a bit nicer?”

“Why?’ you scoffed, “are you worried about your ‘image’ again?”

König said nothing, letting you fill in the blanks for him.

“Alright,” you rolled your eyes before brushing by him to head back upstairs, “then tell me what to wear.”

“Something nicer,” was all the clarification König gave you before heading off to the backyard. To do what, you didn’t particularly care enough to think about.

Once you were upstairs in your bathroom, you stared at yourself in the mirror. Maybe König did have a point; you looked like you’d been hit with a truck that morning. The bags under your eyes were deep and heavy, and your hoodie had stains all over the bottom and along the cuffs of your sleeves. If you sat on a corner and held out a cup, you’d probably be able to make up your entire grocery bill in an afternoon. What a miserable state you were in!

You decided that what you were looking at was not up to snuff, not for you at least. Evidently not for König either, but that wasn’t the point.

With a few brushes of powder and a nice new set of clothes, you were able to face your reflection with a smile. It was a hollow, fragile smile, but it was a smile nonetheless. You tried to focus on the victories, no matter how pyrrhic they felt.

You sashayed back down the stairs with a self confident grin only to be faced with the man who sent you upstairs in the first place.

His icy eyes were wide, glancing around frantically before settling them on his feet.

“Is this good enough?” you asked.

He didn’t say a word, just nodded quickly. You figured that was about as much flattery as you’d get out of him on a good day.

“What store are you going to?” König asked in a quiet voice.

“To the big one,” you replied, “you know, the one down the road.”

König set his lips into a line, then asked, “Why don’t you go to the farmer’s market? It's a Saturday. They should be open today.”

“How would I get there?” you asked.

König dug his hands through his wallet and pulled out a blue and green card, “This is for the bus. You know how to use the GPS on your phone, right?”

You nodded.

“Just look up farmer’s market on the app,” König offered, “it should get you there quickly.”

“But what about money?” you asked.

“Ach,” König hissed as he pulled his wallet from his jeans again, “take this. It should be enough for the groceries and then some for yourself.”

“Are you suggesting I get myself something nice?” you smirked dryly at the irony.

König paused to tilt his head so he could look you in the eyes, “Maybe. You can keep the bus card, too. You’ll need it more than me.”

“Is there enough money on it?” you asked.

“It’s synced to my card,” König replied, “it’ll charge me automatically. Don’t worry about loading it.”

You tucked the card into your own wallet, thinner than his by a landslide. With all your bearings checked, you patted down your dress and gave König an award-winning smile.

“I’ll be back soon,” you grinned.

“Text me when you’re coming home,” König told you as he turned to retreat into the home, “and when you get there. And when-" he clenched his jaw, "just keep me updated, bitte.”

You didn’t say a word, instead stepping through the door and slipping outside. You pulled out your phone and punched in König’s suggestion to find what you expected to be the farmer’s market. You didn’t stop to see if König was waving you goodbye from the window, instead marching to the nearest bus stop to get started on your route.

The bus wasn’t particularly crowded, but there was a beta male in rut that had evidently forgotten to take his pills this morning, making the entire bus reek of oceanic vinegar. He’d obviously tried to hide it with extra scent blocker deodorant, but he was failing miserably. Most of the others on the bus shot the poor fellow cruel looks, to which he withered in on himself. It wouldn’t surprise you if he’d been sent home from work to get himself some pills to stop stinking up the office.

Thankfully, aside from the beta male, there weren’t any great upsets along the way. The walk to the market was thankfully brief, though a drizzle started and you had to put up your polka dotted umbrella as a shield against the weathers. You’d spent too much time perfecting your lipstick to have it smudged by a few drops of rain. Just once, you wanted to feel like you looked nice. It wasn’t like König did anything to help you in that regard. Rather, you felt that when you were around him, you were about as attractive as plain cardboard or white wallpaper. Sometimes, he wouldn’t even let himself look at you, which though while a regular occurrence, still smacked of obstinate rudeness that cut you like a thousand papercuts. Each nervous glance away was another slit upon you. At this point, you were surprised your heart was still beating in its place in your chest.

You skulked through the market in a search for ingredients. You didn’t really need to go out today, but you wanted a break from the silence of the home. After spending so much time in the silence, the hustle and bustle of the market jostled you to and fro with the crowds. You were twirled around this way and that before you were able to stumble you way towards a decent-enough looking stall filled to the brim with bright red fruits.

Only once you were too close to be ignored did you realize that the stall was advertising cider and vinegar, made fresh from the very same apples that had drawn you in.

“Hey!” a tall alpha stepped up to greet you, “see anything you like?”

You, you wanted to say but you held your tongue. Instead, you looked over the merchandise before picking up a small bottle.

“Um, how much is this?” you asked as you passed over the cider.

“Oh this is on sale, actually,” the alpha laughed, exposing his bright white canines, “it’s just for today though.”

“Only today?” you parroted.

“Only for today,” the alpha agreed before screwing you with a strange look, “say, where’s your collar?”

You blinked as you reached up to your neck.

“Oh, I must have forgotten it at home,” you admitted shyly, ashamed you’d forgotten such an important piece of protection for yourself.

“How long have you been here?” the alpha frowned.

“Not long,” you said as you fingered the empty air around your neck, “I must’ve forgotten it when I went out this morning.”

“Well it’s not safe for an unclaimed omega to go around without a collar,” the alpha hummed before holding up a hand, “just wait right there. I’m gonna go talk to someone.”

You nodded and let the man hurry off to talk to an alpha woman who worked the other side of the stall. She glanced over at you with a quick smile before looking back at her coworker, letting him return back to you with a comment accompanied by a nod of her head.

The alpha stepped back from behind the stall to stand by your side, awkwardly squeezing into the space beside you as carefully as he could to avoid actively pressing in on your inner bubble.

“So, I talked to my boss, and she said it’s okay if I take a break and help you around the market,” the alpha smiled timidly, “it’s just… I’m worried somebody might hurt you.”

“Wait, really?” you blinked owlishly as you looked up at the man.

“I mean it’s not safe to be without a collar,” the alpha insisted, “so it only makes sense that I watch over you. I, uh, I have a lot of omega friends and they tell me it’s nice to have someone around to keep them safe.”

“Oh, um, thanks,” you felt a bit fuzzy as you smiled at the messy-haired brunette, “but you don’t have to if it’s too much-”

“It’s nothing,” the alpha interjected before wincing, “sorry, didn’t mean to interrupt it’s just, you know, I’d hate to let you go and have you get hurt or-”

“No I get it,” you helped the poor man out, “I just didn’t want to pull you away from work and…”

You both smiled fondly at each other. Maybe it was something about not being used to an alpha’s affection, but the man’s brown eyes were warm like honey and tea as he took you in. You were suddenly grateful for König insisting that you wear something nice. Wait, König!

“Oh, um, I’m sorry but I should probably just call my alpha to come get me,” you cringed at the thought of having to phone up that miserable lout to drag you back into that horrible home.

“Wait, your alpha let you out like this?” the alpha frowned, almost looking crestfallen, “that’s weird.”

“Well,” you sighed, “we’re in a weird relationship. I’m supposed to be his mate or whatever, but I just… He’s not really in it.”

“Oh you got matched?” the alpha perked up, “I had a few friends in the matching program.”

“You did?” you asked.

“Yeah! They’re all like, ‘Shaun you really gotta sign up for this matching program’ way back in high school, but now they’re all sad and miserable with their matches,” the man laughed before catching himself, “my name’s Shaun, by the way! Sorry about that, I forgot to introduce myself. What’s your name?”

You gave your name with a laugh, “I guess I forgot to introduce myself too!”

“Makes the two of us, I guess,” Shaun chuckled, turning with you to start walking the aisles with you, “so, what’re you here for anyways?”

“Just a few veggies and stuff,” you replied, “my alpha wants me to cook for him.”

“So he let you out in public but expects you to be a perfect little omega for him?” Shaun scoffed, “sounds like a great guy for sure.”

“Well,” you bit your lip, “it’s more complicated than that. See, I really wanted him to just, you know, be my partner but he wasn’t too keen on it. So I was thinking that maybe if I made him jealous, maybe he’d be more interested or something?”

“And how did that go?” Shaun chuckled.

“Well, he called me out pretty quickly and then told me I could make it up to him by cooking for him,” you explained, “so I guess I really got myself in this mess.”

“But you only did it because he wasn’t paying any attention to you?” Shaun asked, helping you navigate around a tight bend by using his body as a battering ram through the crowd.

You blushed furiously, “I mean, is it too much to ask? I really thought the matching system would work, but… Well…”

“Usually it works,” Shaun offered, “but not always,” he helped you step out of the way of a passing baby stroller, “some people say it takes a couple of years to work, but I just think it’s a bit overrated.”

“So you never signed up?” you asked.

“Nah, it’s not like people would really want me, anyways,” Shaun admitted, “I’m an alpha O with a degree in agriculture working at a small farm. I don’t make much, and not many people are into alpha Os.”

“Really?” you asked curiously, “why not?”

“Not as big as alpha Bs and not as stable as beta As,” Shaun explained, “but whatever. I bet you get it as an omega.”

“Omega O, actually,” you laughed when Shaun winced, “yeah, it’s not always fun. But hey, I get by.”

“So I’m guessing you’re matched with an alpha A?” Shaun cringed.

“Yeah! I’m told the matching system puts alpha As and omega Os together for some reason?” you shook your head, “it’s crazy to me.”

“Absolutely,” Shaun agreed, “oh look! You said you needed veggies, right? My friend runs that stand over there!”

Shaun pointed somewhere but the crowd obscured your vision. So thus you pushed forth behind him before coming into a small clearing.

“Shaun! Long time no see!” a tall beta woman leaned on the wood stand.

“Laura, we literally just talked two hours ago,” Shaun rolled his eyes before standing to the side, “I’m just here because this little omega over here forgot her collar back home. But yeah, you wanted to get some things, right?”

After a bit of social chit-chat, you left with a couple of baskets brimming with fresh produce. Included i the bundle was a jar of fresh tomato paste and a bottle of olive oil, courtesy of the Italian pasta maker in the stand beside you. The beta man running the store had been more than glad to help you out when he overheard you explaining your situation with König, though he had tried to make you take a particularly spicy sausage to try and ‘get back at the swine’ but you’d had to turn him down.

After touring the market once more, you sat down at a bench with a paper bag of cinnamon sugar doughnuts between you and Shaun.

“Thanks for helping me around here,” you said before taking another bite of the fresh-baked treat, “wow these are so good. You were totally right about these.”

“Those old ladies know what they’re talking about,” Shaun agreed as he took another doughnut, “but yeah, don’t worry about it. I’m just happy you’re safe and all that.”

“It’s nice to meet an alpha that’s not a major dickface,” you grinned, wiping the sticky sugar away from your fingers.

“Most alphas are pretty chill actually,” Shaun wrapped his sticky fingers together, “I mean, we have to take those emotional regulation classes all the way from grade one until we graduate. Most of us learn how to chill out a bit.”

“So that’s why you’re so nice?” you asked cheekily.

“I mean, I like to think I’ve always been pretty cool,” Shaun tossed you a sly grin, “just don’t tell Laura that. She thinks I’m weird.”

“And why’s that?” you kicked your feet beneath you on the bench.

“Oh, I dunno, because I like comics? Or maybe it’s ‘cause I can quote entire movies in one go,” Shaun laughed, “but I think that just makes me cooler.”

“You might be on to something,” you agreed before you heard a small ping! came from your pocket, “one sec I just need to check something,” you said as you pulled it out to check your notifications. König. “Shit,” you hissed, “it’s König.”

“König? Is that foreign?” Shaun asked.

“One sec I just gotta text him back…”

Hello? Is everything alright? You haven’t texted me in a while and I want to make sure you’re safe.

You hissed and typed out a quick reply before hitting ‘send’ and pocketing your phone again.

“Is this ‘König’ guy your alpha?” Shaun asked, looking at you with a melancholic expression.

“Yeah,” you admitted, “he was just checking if I was okay.”

“Really?” Shaun snorted, “from the way you put it, it didn’t sound like he cared about you at all.”

“Well he doesn’t,” you sighed, “but he has to keep up ‘appearances’ all the time.”

Shaun groaned, “That sounds fucking awful.”

“It can be,” you agreed, “but sometimes… Sometimes I wonder if maybe he does care.”

“If he did, he wouldn’t let you out of the house without a collar,” Shaun reasoned with you.

You hummed, looking down at your sugar-dusted fingers ass they fiddled among each other. You could feel the granules of sugar melting into a sticky paste against your skin, sticking with each brush of your hands against each other.

“It would be nice if my alpha cared about me,” you sighed.

“Well, why do you need him to care about you?” Shaun asked, “and anyways, can’t you break the match?”

“Omegas can’t break matches,” you informed him dutifully, “only alphas and betas have the right to break matches.”

Shaun slumped in his seat.

“Oh…”

“It’s stupid,” you spat.

“It’s sad ‘cause like…” Shaun shrugged awkwardly, “you seem really cool.”

“Do I?” you laughed, “because I’m not.”

“People say I’m not cool either,” Shaun smiled, “so I guess we’d work pretty well together.”

You turned slightly to look at him from the corner of your eyes. He wasn’t looking at you, instead focussing on his own hands, coated just like yours were. His shaggy hair hung low over his face, giving him an innocently youthful expression. He seemed so sweet, so different from the alpha that kept you caged in his home…

“We would,” you agreed, carefully reaching your hand out to his.

He took it carefully, almost afraid to respond to your touch.

“Your alpha wouldn’t like this, would he,” Shaun turned to look at you, his eyes almost golden in the sunlight.

“He wouldn’t,” you agreed, “but I don’t really care.”

You leaned in close, but just as you closed your eyes, your phone rang.

You snapped back to attention and wrenched it out of your pocket. It was König. You watched it ring once, twice, then tucked it back into your pocket.

“I don’t really care what he thinks,” you huffed.

“So, um, I guess you gotta go home now?” Shaun laughed, the tension between you thoroughly shattered.

“I guess,” you sighed before perking up briefly, “can I get your number? We can still talk and stuff. I’ve only just moved here, so it would be nice to know someone locally.”

“Sure, uh, just hand it over,” Shaun took your phone from you, trying to suck the sugar off his fingers before typing away and handing it back to you, “sorry about all the, uh, sugar and stuff.”

“Don’t worry about it,” you tucked your phone back into your pocket before typing your number into his and giving it back to him, “but yeah, it was great meeting you Shaun.”

“It was great to meet you too,” Shaun grinned.

“Well,” you looked at the bus stop across the street, “I guess I gotta go now.”

“Call me when you get home, yeah?” Shaun asked as you walked off.

“I will!” you promised and turned back to the bus.

“Where were you?” König hounded you as soon as you stepped through the door.

“I was out at the market,” you replied as you hauled the groceries into the kitchen.

“Why didn’t you text me?” König asked, drumming his fingers against the countertop nervously.

“I forgot,” you said as you put away a bag of carrots, “it happens.”

“But you…” König squinted and frowned, “where’s your collar? Did you already take it off?”

“I forgot to take it with me,” you replied quickly as you whirled around to put away a bunch of tomatoes.

You turned back to the counter but slammed into König’s chest. You stumbled back to glare up at him, but his worried face caught you off guard.

“Were you okay?” König asked, placing his palms on your shoulders, “nobody hurt you, did they? How could you forget your collar? You need to take care of yourself, ja?”

“I was fine,” you pushed back from him coldly.

König stepped to the side to let you carry on putting away the produce, shrinking in on himself awkwardly.

“Are you sure?” König asked nervously, “you smell… Different.”

“Somebody helped me around,” you explained easily as you turned away. When you turned back, König’s face had become downright stormy.

“Who helped you,” König’s voice was flat and cold like an iron sword.

“Some guy at a stall,” you tried to shake off the nerves that crawled up your back.

“An alpha?” König stepped in close.

You stopped what you were doing to look back at König closely. He had leaned in close, almost menacing in how he now crowded your form.

“Maybe?” you shrugged, “I didn’t really pay attention.”

König stopped you from turning away and leaned in close. Before you could say anything, he rubbed his neck against yours quickly, once on each side. He stepped back, but kept his grip on your shoulders.

“Better,” he said quietly.

“What’s wrong with you?” you spat.

König watched you carefully, taking in how you puffed up with frustration in his hold. A part of him seemed to soften as he took in your form.

“We need to keep up appearances,” König replied dryly.

“That’s bullshit,” you scoffed.

König ducked his head, but the grip on your shoulders tightened. He grimaced, then turned back and tucked you into his chest.

“Appearances matter,” his voice cracked slightly, but you didn’t mention it.

Instead, when you stepped back you trailed a hand on his chest, “Why do you care so much?”

“Appearances,” König choked out.

“That’s not why you care,” you tried to let your hand fall on his cheek but he was quick to duck away.

“It’s all that matters,” König’s voice was faint as he left the room, “it’s what keeps us safe.”

You watched him leave the room quietly. You felt your phone buzz in your pocket, but you weren’t as eager to pick up the phone this time.

AU Masterlist

[lay-z]

❄️ Day 7 – Make do

Synopsis: Stuck in a safe house on a mission in the middle of nowhere on Christmas Eve, you and your alpha teammates are in dire need of some comfort.

Pairing: alpha!TF-141 x fem!omega!Reader Warnings/Info: No smut. | Omegaverse; military!Reader; a/b/o dynamics; emotional support (dog) omega; fluff; suggestive content; flirting; teammates to lovers/mates; eventual poly!relationship; eventual romance; typical omega/alpha behaviour

Word count: 2.5k

↳ back to 🎅🏼 Masterlist ☃️

Location: [Redacted]

EST. remng. time until exfil: 8 hrs. 4 min. 37 sec.

The wind is howling outside the shabby safe house, whistling through the creaks and cracks of withered floorboards while the rain keeps pouring down in ice buckets, fat drops pounding against the leaky windows.

You fear the seemingly ancient hut might cave in like an unstable card house with each violent gust of wind.

It’s definitely not cosy and anything but how you’d imagine to spend your holidays this year, but alas – you’re in the military, freshly recruited by a secret special ops task force just a handful of weeks ago, and neither war nor terrorism take a break, so you won’t, either. And you’re still trying to proof yourself to them, to those rugged, dominant and battle-hardened alpha soldiers.

Still, you’ve been away from a proper nest for nearly a month now and it’s starting to make you terribly anxious. You cannot possibly be of any use for your assigned alphas like this, not if you can’t even take care of yourself properly, and it’s showing.

Sometimes, the novelty of this arrangement catches up to you, makes you question your whole being and purpose. Especially, when you struggle to approach certain members of the squad to even offer your help and do your job. However, Captain Price had informed you in the beginning that you’re their first assigned emotional support omega, that some of his soldiers have never even been in close proximity to one before. He never told you who, but you already have a good hunch.

You don’t want them to know about your inner turmoil, though; don’t want them to think of you as some spoiled, prissy omega when you’re definitely still a soldier, as capable of the same war atrocities as they are – even if your nature gets in the way sometimes.

So, you do what you do best, grit your teeth, keep your demeanour neutral and make your usual rounds, seeing if anyone is in need of your support, though you’re ready for their usual declination – which is something that stings even worse than your own unmet need for comfort.

Nuzzling the cold tip of your nose into the thick collar of your winter combat jacket, you peel yourself away from the raggedy cot in the guest bedroom, boot-clad feet dragging along the creaking floorboards as you square your shoulders despite your own discomfort and walk down the short hallway into the dimly lit, sparsely furnished open living room.

And your nose immediately wrinkles at the concoction of sour, agitated alpha scents, cigar smoke, gun oil and musty wood. It’s bad enough to make your eyes water, but you swiftly blink away the gloss in your eyes, determined not to let them know how bad this is.

“Gentlemen,” you speak your greeting into the room, clearing your dry throat awkwardly as you assess the situation while the men barely seem to acknowledge you.

Captain Price is standing by a cracked window, puffing on a stubby cigar while staring outside into the semi-darkness, watching the storm, his broad shoulders tense and spine rigid.

Gaz is reading a worn softback book, sitting in the corner of the shabby couch where the old standard lamp flickers every couple of seconds, his dark brows drawn together in concentration, though his eyes barely move.

Soap is slumped in the only upholstered armchair, the battered cushions looking like they’ve seen better days; long legs stretched out in front of him, his bulky arms resting on each armrest while his head is tilted back, eyes flickering behind closed eyelids.

And the Lieutenant, Ghost, is sitting at the wobbly table on an equally wobbly chair in the darkest corner of the room, sharpening and cleaning his ballistic knives, the heavy scent of restlessness accumulated in his spot, though, as usual, his expression is hidden behind his skull mask, an air of indifference carefully crafted around his self while his own nature betrays him.

Their behaviour is making your stomach twist into knots and you swallow down a soft whine as your inner omega starts trembling with anxiety.

Then, Soap speaks up, his gruff, roguish voice breaking the tense silence, “Ye busy, sweetheart?”

You blink dumbly, eyes flickering around the room, unsure if he’s truly talking to you or–

But Soap lifts his head then, a boyish grin on his lips as his bright cerulean eyes lock with your, nearly making you squeak in surprise.

“C’mere, Corporal.” He says, lifting his bare right hand and curling his index finger, beckoning you over playfully before patting his thick thighs. It’s not an order, but the sudden interaction between you and the Sergeant has the other alphas perk up one way or another.

Price glances over his shoulder, blowing out a thick plume of smoke around the cigar between his lips. Gaz looks up from the pages of his book, one eyebrow raised curiously, his warm brown eyes flickering between Price, Soap and you while Ghost stops polishing one of his knives briefly before proceeding again.

It’s the first time one of them has made the conscious decision to ask for your presence, disregarding the brief and rare sniffs all of them have taken of your comforting omega scent in between action and battles.

Almost unconsciously, you give a stiff nod before approaching him while he sits up straighter in the armchair, moving his legs and angling his knees to give you more space.

“How–uhm–How do you… want me, Sergeant?” You ask tentatively, oblivious to the double-meaning of your innocent question, struggling to keep up your professionalism as you rock back and forth on your heels, heart pounding in your throat.

Soap’s formerly tired, half-lidded eyes light up with mirth as he drinks in your uncertainty, and deep down, he feels so bad for himself for denying himself and you this comfort  that you and the rest of the squad so desperately need – all on orders from Price; the admonition from several weeks ago still ringing in the young Sergeant’s ears.

“Don’t overwhelm her, lads. She’s precious tha’ one, a bloody fine soldier, and we wanna keep her around with us.”

But the Captain forgot that this is literally your job, that this is why you’re here with them in the first place, and gods damn, Soap needs a whiff of your scent, of something else but his or his pack mates acrid stench – something more like candied apples, cinnamon and fresh wildflowers – something more like you, sweet, sweet omega.

Soap holds his right hand out to you and waits for you to reach out as well, before he grasps your smaller, cold hand swiftly, pulling you onto his lap while he keeps you steady with his left, manhandling you until you’re sitting perched up oh so prettily on his broad lap.

Your lashes flitter briskly, bright doe-eyes flickering nervously as you drink in his features this up close and Soap is preening internally at the reaction you’re showing him, so surprised and almost innocent despite your occupation.

“Ye like sitting here with me, aye, sweetheart? Not too much for ye, innit?” He queries nicely, loud enough for the others, especially Price, to hear, while the corners of his eyes crinkle with giddiness.

You scan the room discreetly, vigilant eyes moving left and right, like prey looking out for predators, unsure if this might be some kind of test perhaps, to see if you’re a good omega, able to do what you���re supposed to. Looking back into Soap’s pretty eyes, you give a slow nod, “Yes and no, sir.”

“Aye… thought so.” Soap chuckles gruffly, pulling you closer against his buff chest, eager to have your warmth and scent seep through his clothes, mark his skin and calm his restless soul.

Gaz can’t take it anymore, can’t even continue pretending to be preoccupied with this stupid book in his hands. Not when you’re sitting on Soap’s lap like that, whispering and giggling with him like you’ve never done anything else before. It had already been hard enough, acting as if you weren’t there since you joined the team, when all Gaz wants to do is bury his face in your neck, nuzzle your soft skin, cuddle you close and have your soothing purrs reverberate against his chest.

He didn’t have a chance to hear them yet, but he’s sure you would make the cutest sounds and noises.

His jaw ticks when a whiff of your saccharine scent wafts over to him while he’s still seated on the shabby couch, just a few metres away from you. Perhaps, he could just snatch you right out of Soap’s hold–

The low rumble of Price’s chiding alpha growl makes Gaz bristle, eyes widening imperceptibly as he ducks his head slightly, because how did the old geezer even sense that he was becoming jealous… and possessive.

Suddenly, Soap calls out, “Oi, Garrick? Ye want a turn?”

Gaz perks up; closing the book at once, though he looks over at the Captain for guidance and permission, because he sure as hell won’t disobey a direct order like Soap did when the latter had asked for your comfort.

Meanwhile, Price’s annoyance is still simmering below the surface, vein throbbing rhythmically in his neck as he listens and watches how the Scottish Sergeant is acting with you, all gentle and playful, practically putty in your presence.

The room reeks less of agitation and discomfort now, their aggressive alpha pheromones now dulled and whitewashed by your strong, syrupy omega scent, melodic giggles and dainty demeanour, and Price has to admit, Soap does seem to be in higher spirits now.

So, he meets Gaz’ pleading eyes with a firm nod, and watches the younger alpha scramble to his feet, opening his arms invitingly, while Price keeps his distance, chewing on the glimmering cigar stump to ease his own restlessness.

“Hand her over, MacTavish,” Gaz huffs, long fingers wiggling in anticipation, “You wanna stay with me a bit, hm, sunshine? Aye, ‘course you do–” He coos at you, leaning in a little and getting a first real nose full of your intoxicating scent at this proximity. His pupils dilate at once, making Soap chuckle as he loosens his arms around you reluctantly.

You answer with equal eagerness, eyes twinkling happily as you slip into Gaz’ strong arms, chirping, “Yes, sure!”

You end up sandwiched between Soap and Gaz on the small couch, cooped up in two different pairs of strong, bulky arms while both young alphas gush over you, courting for your attention as they nuzzle, kiss and lick your neck, your hair, any patch of exposed skin they can reach. You don’t mind them scent marking you for the first time, don’t mind the way they’re getting excited as you feel their big bulges strain against the rough fabric of their combat trousers whenever you’re switched back and forth in their embraces.

Just once do you need to correct Soap’s behaviour by pinching the nape of his neck, when he bucks his hips up against your clothed core, rubbing his growing arousal against you briefly. But Gaz chides him, too, and that’s that before you continue coddling them as much as they do you.

Ghost is usually great at blending out his surroundings while simultaneously being hyper-aware of them, but you’re slowly and surely starting to get under his scarred, pale skin, carefully chipping away at his resolve with each tentative offer of your assistance to him and his packmates, always looking mighty eager to please and serve.

Fucking hell.

It's sickening, really, how your enticing omega scent seeps even through the barrier of black cloth covering his nose.

He’s never allowed himself to smell something so sweet, let alone be in close proximity with someone like you.

When Price had submitted the application for an emotional support omega for the 141 to the brass, Ghost had nearly lost it and, in a semblance of panic, threatened with both resignation and applying to transfer to another task force, anything that would put space between himself and any omega, not trusting himself to be around something precious and fragile like that.

And then you showed up one day, pretty as a peach, ripe as one, too, and Ghost reluctantly accepted your presence with a grumble, enforcing Price’s order not to get too close to you, though, that’s easier said than done, he’d learned fairly quickly.

Now, Ghost can barely keep himself from staring at the couch, where both Soap and Gaz are seemingly having the time of their lives – basking in the attention of their own little omega. He’s never seen the two alpha Sergeant’s act so bloody… corny.

And yet, the Lieutenant can’t help and wonder how it must feel like to hold you, to feel your weight on his lap and feel your hair tickle his nose when he leans in to–

“I know what I said about her,” Price clasps his heavy hand on Ghost’s shoulder, bringing him back to reality, “– but perhaps you shouldn’t keep restraining yourself like that, Simon,” The Captain mutters, “It ain’t healthy.”

“An’ what about you, sir?” Ghost counters, not looking up as he finishes up polishing his last knife for the third time.

Price huffs in amusement, fishing another cigar from one of his breast pockets.

“Don’t ya worry about me, lad.”

When Soap pulls back from your kiss-swollen lips at once, you whine softly, chasing after his pretty mouth, already utterly spoiled bit the little bit of attention you’d gotten from the young Sergeants, until the expression on his handsome face makes you pause and snap out of your contented daze.

“Ye ready for a turn, Lt.? Think ye can handle it?” Soap snickers while Gaz scoots to the other end of the couch, clearing his throat loudly, looking at anything but the behemoth of an alpha in his black combat uniform, now standing in front of the couch.

Your eyes go comically big as you tilt your head back against Soap’s broad shoulder to gaze up at the stoic Lieutenant; the cloth of his skull mask now tucked up to the bridge of his crooked nose, revealing dirty blonde stubble and several thick silvery scars along his exposed neck and the lower half of his face while his onyx eyes stare down at you with unmatched intensity.

“I dunno, Johnny,” Ghost gruffs out, tongue darting out to lick his chapped bottom lip, “Think yer pretty bird can handle me?”

[writersdrug]

Give me Alpha!König and Omega!Reader, but they both kinda hate the situation. You were gifted to Kortac as a 'thank you' from your family for protection, because what else are they going to do with an omega? Too risky to have you there already, you'd be an easy target for a diplomatic family like yours.

So they bounce you over to Kortac. Who decides giving you to the grumpy, stressed overworked Alpha might just fix him.

But... it doesn't really (yet). He doesn't like having something that relies on him, something that his superiors said he "needed" to help soothe him (soothe him? What is he, a child?!). And you're not happy about being handed off like a gift from your family. Blood is not thicker than water, apparently.

So there you sit, opposite ends of the table with König, a scowl on each of your faces. You're supposed to be scenting each other, but all you're doing is stinking up the room with your angry scents. The poor beta has their nose pinched and their eyes watering with how sour the room is, looking back and forth between the two of you as you stare around the ground, arms crossed, and König stares at his phone, tapping his meaty fingers on the table.

"Could you two please just get this over with so I can-"

"No." You both say in unison.

The beta sighs. "You both reek. I'm getting Commander." She says, slipping out of the room.

Finally, for a brief second, you both look at each other. König huffs and you scowl, looking away. You ignore that feeling of your Omega, latching onto the one thread of curiosity in your mind. You are NOT interested in this oaf of an Alpha.

(yes you are.)

--------------------

How do we feel about developing this? Got a lot on my plate I'd need to start hacking away at but this project has been on my mind for a while. Also got the A/b/o dynamics/processes/setup (idk the words aren't wording today, the "happenings" of how this universe works?) From @soaps-mohawk, so any "this is how it works" stuff is all credited to them!

[ink-n-shadow]

*keysmash* ABO pack!141 is chef's kiss amazing! I especially love how you made Johnny the Omega. Maybe reader is the good girl Omega to counteract Johnny's brattiness? (I would love you forever if you wrote that pretty pretty please)

don't mind me, just leaving another slightly self-indulgent a/b/o smut

BAD DOG

𝜗𝜚 the one where omega!johnny's been bad

𝜗𝜚 pairing: pack!141 x reader 𝜗𝜚 cw: smut (minors—DNI), brat!johnny, punishments, fingering (reader!receiving), oral (reader!receiving), johnny referred to as a dog, leash/collar use, you're being rewarded

johnny (just like reader) has his good days and bad days. some days he’s the sweetest and most patient boy, like sometimes simon doesn’t even have to breathe a word for johnny to do what he’s told—simon just gives him a slight quirk of the brow, and johnny’s scrambling to be at his side. these are the days johnny’s rewarded handsomely, bundled up against simon’s side or nuzzled in price’s lap and practically melting at the feeling of blunt nails scratching at his scalp and the gruff sounds of praise dripping from one of his alphas lips. sometimes when he’s been this good, he gets to either fill you up without consequence or play with you to his heart’s content.

but these good days (at least for johnny) are usually few and far between because lets face it: johnny’s a masochistic brat, especially when he’s in heat. he acts like a feral mutt whenever the muzzle comes out, but the second it’s as secured around his mouth as the cage around his cock is, he’s sitting pretty and trying not to drool at the way his sensitive tip presses against the metal with each throb of his cock. he secretly loves how quickly his brain shuts off, eyes growing heavy and tongue lapping at his chapped lips with every heavy pant of breath.

the only punishment johnny doesn’t like is when he’s slotted between simon’s thigh, tethered to the alpha’s large hand with a chain leash and collar and forced to face forward towards one of the beds in your shared bedrooms. price has you splayed out with your back against his chest, your thighs wrenched apart by his own and his hand stuffing three fingers inside of your slick hole. there’s a creamy froth surrounding where your arousal ended and price’s fingers began, the only evidence of johnny’s misdeed. with each twist and roll of price’s fingers deeper and deeper inside of you, a silky mixture of your slick and johnny’s cum drips from between your thighs, and if it wasn’t for kyle’s tongue lapping earnestly at both your slick skin and price’s drenched fingers, the sheets beneath you would be more ruined than they currently are.

johnny hates having to sit there and watch, held in place by the leash and simon’s heated gaze on the back of his neck. he can’t help himself sometimes and tries to inch himself closer to the footboard, only for simon to pull harder on the leash and send him fumbling backwards into the alpha’s lap.

“the fuck you think you’re doin’, mutt? been a bad dog today, ‘member? bad dogs don’t get treats, so sit,” and the gravel to simon’s words have johnny sitting up straighter, keeping his sniveling to a minimum as he watches you fall apart around price’s fingers and against kyle’s tongue.

©️ ink-n-shadow 2024

do not copy, plagiarize, steal, borrow, or repost any of my work without my expressed permission

[soaps-mohawk]

Cherry Red, Crimson Blood

Chapter 42: Comfort and Joy

Summary: Tis the season to be jolly...

Pairing: Poly 141 x reader

Word Count: 8, 417 words

Warnings: Alpha/beta/omega dynamics, omegaverse, alternate universe, slight angst at the beginning, blood and disturbing imagery, nightmares, PTSD, lots of comfort, holidays

A/N: Yes, CRCB is getting its holiday episode. Something holly and jolly before Christmas, some sweet comfort for the last chapter of this year. It's kind of rough but I don't hate it. I hope everyone feels the same. Happy Holidays to everyone

MASTERLIST | <- Previous | Next ->

It’s quiet in the house. 

There’s a stillness in the air that seeps into your very soul. The only light is from the street light outside. Your father never allowed you a nightlight despite your fear of the dark. You weren’t allowed to show such weakness in front of him. God forbid his family have any flaws. 

You’re the flawed one. 

It’s too quiet in the house, not even your brothers’ snoring audible in the tense quiet that has settled over your safe space. It has your breathing shallow so as to not disturb the heaviness in the air. Your sister is asleep in the bed across the room, tucked under the blankets safely. Sleep evades you however, something tickling in the back of your mind. 

Something is off. Something is wrong. 

“Hannah.” You whisper, disturbing the darkness in favor of not feeling so alone in the oppressive silence. “Hannah.” 

Yet your sister does not stir, showing no sign of even acknowledging a disturbance as she sleeps deeply. You bite your lip, sinking back further under your covers. You could wake one of your brothers, but the likelihood of one of them helping ease your fear is small. They’ll just usher you back to bed and tell you to grow up. You could attempt to rouse your mother, but that runs the risk of also waking your father. If nothing is wrong, it will be your doom. 

Maybe it’s all just in your head. Some terror brought on by a lingering nightmare. 

You need to get up. You can’t lay in the darkness anymore. 

So you rise from the safety of your blankets, padding silently across the wood and out into the hallway. There’s a nightlight allowed out here to prevent stumbling in the dead of night. There’s nothing in the hallway, no silent spectre waiting to grab whoever leaves their room first. You creep silently down the hallway towards the black gaping maw of the living room waiting just beyond the edges of the light. 

You stand there at the end of the hallway, gazing into the darkness for a moment. It’s not truly dark, light filtering in through the curtains from the streetlights outside. Yet the darkness feels thicker than it ever has before as you stand there, waiting for a shadow to move. 

Nothing moves, and after a breath you turn to the left, cutting through the dining room straight towards the kitchen. It’s darker in here, cut off from the street, yet you navigate it with ease. You’ve spent many nights navigating through the darkness, creeping around the house when you can’t sleep. 

You enter the kitchen, heading for the cupboard that holds the cups. Your mother used to give you warm milk when you couldn’t sleep. Sometimes you’d rise to find her awake, sitting in the living room. Sometimes she’d be crying. Sometimes she’d just be sitting with the lamp on, staring into the distance. 

It always made you wonder what she was thinking about. 

You stand on your toes, reaching up for a glass. It nearly falls and hits the counter but you manage to catch it, preventing what would no doubt be a crisis. You let out a breath before moving to the sink, filling the glass up. You stare out the small window that shows nothing but the fence between your house and the neighbors. All the houses are the same, built after the same model with the same green grass out front. It’s like a movie set, some suburban setting for a drama or a horror movie. 

The oppressive darkness feels like a horror movie. 

You turn to head back to your room, but you’re stopped by a figure standing in the entrance to the kitchen. You can just make it out, large and looming in the darkness. For a moment you think it’s your father, awakened by something, some instinct telling him there’s something moving around in the house. It’s not the right size to be your father, though, too tall and long. 

You stumble back towards the light switch, your fingers shaking as you flip it on. 

“Phil?” You ask quietly, staring at your father’s best friend in shock. You haven’t seen him in almost two years. 

His mouth opens in a haunting grin, blood pouring down his chin. You stare in horror as blood soaks into his white shirt, dripping onto the floor below. The cup slips from your hand, shattering on the floor as his hand wraps around the knife stuck in the side of his neck, pulling it free. Blood sprays across the white cupboards, painting them like some gruesome work of art. 

“Look...what you did...to me...” Phil says, his voice nothing more than a gurgling wheeze. 

He reaches out a blood soaked hand towards you, sending you stumbling back. Glass cuts into the bottoms of your feet, sending shards of white hot pain up your legs. You don’t care, too busy trying to evade the bloody hand trying to grab at you. You slip in the water on the floor, falling backwards, the back of your head seconds from hitting the side of the counter...

“Easy, easy.” 

Arms are around you, holding you tightly as you sob. Your feet are burning as you sit there on the kitchen floor. It’s not the kitchen in your old home, though, it’s the kitchen in the cottage. Your feet are burning with sharp stabs of pain. There’s water soaking into your pajama pants. 

“You’re alright.” 

The light is on, raining down bright yellow light from overhead. You hate it, the oppressive light burning your eyes. You squeeze them closed, trying to ease the pounding in your head that pulses in time with your heart. 

“...sleepwalking I think...” 

Voices float in and out as you sit there, leaning back against something solid and warm. There’s arms around you, holding you tightly, your own arms trapped up against your chest. You tilt your head back, resting it back against the solid warmth. 

“Almost hit her head...” 

“Move her to the couch...”

“It’s not that uncommon during times of extreme stress.” 

You wince as another tiny piece of glass is pulled from your foot. 

“Even if someone has never experienced sleepwalking before, it can start at any age.” 

“Is this something we need to worry about now?” 

“It’s hard to say.” Dr. Keller dabs at your foot with a damp towel streaked with pink from your blood. “It’s one of those things we’ll just have to wait and see if it was a one-time thing or if it will become a regular occurance.” She dabs at your feet with the towel before shining the flashlight on them again. “You want to talk about the nightmare?” 

She’s talking to you now. 

“No.” You say, the word strained and weak from your lips. Your face feels tight from the tears you had shed in your confusion and delirium. The nightmare is still fresh on your mind, replaying like some sick television show, over and over in your head. 

She gives you a look, but doesn’t press anymore. She won’t ask again, not in front of your pack at least. 

She lets your feet rest on the coffee table before moving closer to you. Her hands cup the back of your head, pressing down on certain spots. “Does your head hurt?” 

“No.” You say, ignoring the throbbing behind your eyes. 

“Well, thanks to Kyle’s quick reflexes, I think we’ve avoided a concussion.” She says, turning to Kyle. “How’s your hand?” 

“Fine.” He says from where he’s sitting next to you, flexing his fingers. “I’ll take aches and pains if it prevents a hospital visit.” 

“That’s the last thing we need right now.” John says. 

You can’t help but wince at his words. 

If he notices, he doesn’t say anything. 

“Thankfully there wasn’t any serious damage.” Dr. Keller says, wrapping your feet in gauze. “Just try to take it easy for a couple of days. Walking isn’t going to feel very good for a while.” 

“Do you want to talk about it?” 

“Not really.” 

“I think it might be good to talk about it.” 

“You’re as bad as Dr. Keller.” 

“Well, she and I agree that holding everything in isn’t going to help anything.” Kyle says, taking the seat next to you. “We just want to help you.” 

“Unless you can crawl into my mind and fix my memories, I don’t think you can help with this.” You say bitterly. 

“Well, I can’t do that, but I can listen.” He gives you a look. 

You choose to ignore it. 

He continues to stare at you as you turn your gaze out the window. It’s raining again, light droplets hitting the window. You can feel yourself beginning to crack as he continues to stare at you, his gaze not sharp and prying, but instead soft and inviting. He really wants to know, not out of curiosity or need, but because he cares. He wants to help, even if it’s just listening. 

Can you be brave enough to share? 

“I woke up in bed, but not in the cottage. I was in bed at the house we lived in before I was sent to the institution.” You swallow the lump in your throat threatening to choke you and cut off your words. “It was the house we moved to shortly after Phil left. I remember feeling something was off after I woke up, something was wrong but I couldn’t figure it out.” Your mouth suddenly feels dry. “I went to the kitchen to get some water and Phil appeared there in the darkness. He...” 

You trail off for a moment, the memory of what he had looked like in your dream sending a spike of fear through you. You had thought the one positive of Phil being dead was that he couldn’t haunt your dreams anymore. He’s not out there hunting you, seeking you out. He’s dead, burned to a crisp in that barn. You made sure of that. 

“He had a knife in his neck. He was bleeding.” Your voice shakes as tears prick behind your eyes. You hate it that you’re still crying over Phil and his hold on you even in death. “He said....he said ‘look what you did to me,’ and pulled the knife out. I dropped the glass of water and slipped in it. I was falling but then I woke up.” 

Kyle is silent after you finish, the quiet settling heavy between you, as heavy as it had felt in your dream. You know you sleep walked through part of your dream. You went to the kitchen for water and dropped the glass. You slipped in the puddle and nearly hit your head on the counter if Kyle hadn’t found you seconds before and cushioned your fall with his hand. Your feet still sting from stepping in the glass, even though the puncture wounds and cuts have mostly healed. 

A warm hand touches yours, fingers curling around yours. Kyle’s rough skin, calloused by handling weapons and fighting for so many years, drags against yours as he slowly lifts your hand away from the arm of the chair and up towards his face. His breath is warm as it hits your palm, his soft lips pressing against your skin. You turn to face him, tears still blurring your vision as you sit there, staring at him. 

“It was just a dream.” He murmurs, pressing a soft kiss to your palm. “No one is going to hurt you. Phil is gone and we’ll be damn sure nothing else can even try.” He presses your hand against his cheek, your fingers trembling against the smooth skin. “You have nothing to fear.” 

“Only what’s in my head.” You whisper. 

“What can we do? How can we help you defeat those demons plaguing you?” He asks, threading his fingers through yours. 

You stare at him for a while, taking in his face again. It feels like so long since you’ve really looked at them, since you’ve truly taken in their features. You’ve almost forgotten what they actually look like, your mind always conjuring up muddy images of their faces in your memories. 

You’ve forgotten just how pretty and perfect he really is. 

How...disarming his face is. 

“I don’t know.” You whisper, your thumb stroking his cheek. “I don’t know.” 

The breeze is cold, whipping around you and biting at your cheeks. The blanket tucked tightly around you stops the wind from chilling you to your bones. You don’t care about the cold, your gaze out on the waves crashing against the shore. 

“Cold?” Johnny asks, tightening his hold around you. 

“No.” You say, fighting back a shiver as you lean further back against his chest. The last thing you want right now is to leave the beach. 

“Somethin’ tells me I shouldnae believe you.” He says, squeezing his body around yours. 

“Well, whatever it is, it’s wrong.” You say stubbornly, shoving your hands in your armpits to keep them warm. 

“Stubborn little thing.” He says, pressing a kiss to the side of your head. “Should be headin’ back soon anyway.” 

You let out a whine in protest, leaning your head back against his shoulder. “I want to stay here forever.” 

“I know.” He says, letting you go just enough to pull his phone out of his pocket. “Wish I could let ye.” 

You can’t stop the shiver that shakes through you at the loss of his warmth. It is cold and getting colder as the sky gets more grey overhead. The sun is going down, the darkness of the evening rolling in earlier and earlier every day. 

“Time to head back.” Johnny says, pocketing his phone. 

“Five more minutes.” You whine, trying to lay all of your weight against him. 

“I have direct orders to get you back stat.” He says, pushing himself up to stand. 

You let yourself flop back on the blanket you’ve been sitting on, looking up at him as you lay there in the sand. The wind is picking up, blowing some of it onto your face. You sputter, pulling yourself back up to sit. 

“Come on, kitten.” Johnny says, tucking his hands under your arms before lifting you to stand. “Let’s head back before it gets dark.” 

He brushes the sand off of your blanket before picking up the other one and shaking it. He drapes it over his arm before guiding you back up the path towards the car. You take one last look over your shoulder at the water before following him to the parking lot. 

It’s dusk when you get back to the cottage, the lights from inside glowing warmly through the windows. Johnny takes your hand, leading you up the steps and into the cottage. 

It’s warm inside, the rest of your pack moving around in the kitchen and dining area. You kick your boots off, passing your blanket off to Johnny before heading into the living area. The table is all made up, many dishes sitting out ready to be served, all of them looking very familiar.

“What is this?” You ask, stepping closer to the table. 

“It’s Thanksgiving.” Dr. Keller says, stepping out of the kitchen with a tray of meat in her hands. “I thought you might like to celebrate.” 

“Oh.” You stand there for a moment. You didn’t even realize what day it was. Time has been so strange with no phone or television to give you an idea of what day it is. It’s been moving quickly, almost four weeks since the day you were taken. “Is that why you let Johnny take me to the beach?” 

“We wanted to surprise you.” John says. “I know you don’t like surprises, but this felt like a more appropriate one.” 

“I don’t like surprises, but this is really sweet.” You move towards your normal seat at the table, looking at all of the dishes laid out. 

“We made all the classics, or at least as close as we could get with what we have available.” Dr. Keller says. 

“It’s pretty close, but then again I’ve only had Thanksgiving once.” Ashley says, coming out of the kitchen. You hadn’t even noticed her car parked outside. 

“Thank you for this.” You say, still a bit taken aback by the gesture. “I didn’t even know it was close to Thanksgiving. Time...time seems so weird now.” 

“A lot has happened in a short amount of time.” Dr. Keller says, rubbing your back. “That can skew how we perceive time passing.” 

“I also don’t have any way to tell time.” You shrug. 

Dr. Keller gives you a soft smile. “Well, we’ll see if we can rectify that.” 

Everyone takes their seats at the table in their usual spots, except for the extra chair next to Dr. Keller for Ashley. You recognize the strategic move, even if the rest of your pack pretends not to notice. Dr. Keller also pays it no mind, but you can’t help but notice the bashful look that flashes across her face when her hand brushes Ashleys as food gets passed around the table. 

You load up your plate, digging in almost immediately. You hadn’t realized how hungry you got down at the beach, not until you came back to a cacophony of delicious smells. It all tastes good, all of it throwing you back into reminders of your childhood and Thanksgivings with your family. While your father still had expectations of proper behavior from you and your siblings, it was tradition that he’d spend most of the day in his chair. Your mother did all of the cooking, you and your siblings helping when she’d allow. 

You never truly understood how much work she put into every holiday until you were older. 

Thanksgivings at the institute were never the same as Thanksgivings at home. You got the day off of course, and there always was a better meal that day with the classics, but it always felt so manufactured, not unlike the food on base. You never realized how much you missed home cooking until now. 

You never realized how much you missed your mothers food until now. 

Tears blur your eyes as you continue to eat, trying to distract yourself with heaping spoonfuls of food. 

“You doing alright?” 

Of course the one time John would notice your melancholic state would be right now. The entire table pauses, turning to look at you. You start to curl in on yourself, not wanting all the attention all at once on you. 

“Yeah.” You clear your throat, wiping the tear that betrays you and falls down your cheek. “Just tastes really good. Reminds me of my mom’s cooking.” 

The words slip out before you can stop them, tumbling out onto the table and landing among the mashed potatoes. Things suddenly feel very vulnerable, very raw. You wish you could grab the words, shove them back in and make them all forget your admission. You don’t want the soft stares, the sympathetic looks in their eyes, the understanding. You want to crawl under the table and hide until the moment passes. 

“I-I think I just missed home-cooked food.” You try to save the moment from growing more embarrassing for you. 

“I second that.” Johnny says, the tension in the room lightening just a bit. “Easy tae forget what good food tastes like sometimes.” 

“I’ll give it to the Americans.” Kyle says, recognizing your desire for the attention to be off of you at this moment. “They do know how to do a good feast.” 

“We can do more than good food.” Dr. Keller says, sounding almost offended. 

“Like Halloween.” Johnny says. “What I wouldnae give to have an American Halloween.” 

“You just want an excuse to eat candy until you’re sick.” Simon rumbles. 

“I wan’ tae do more than that.” Johnny gives him a look. “Costumes, the parties, trick or treatin’. All of it.” 

“Maybe we’ll have to take you to America next Halloween.” Dr. Keller says. “Let you get a proper taste of the holiday.” 

Next Halloween. 

You’re not even thinking a week ahead, much less a year. You’re not even sure the others have thought much about what the next few months will look like. Where will you all be in a year? You can’t stay at the cottage forever, as much as you would enjoy it. At some point a decision has to be made. Where do the five of you go from here? 

The conversation begins to lighten, the attention thankfully being drawn off of you again. That doesn’t save you from John’s gaze, though, his eyes flicking up to you every so often. You try not to meet that gaze, keeping your eyes down on your plate as you eat until you’re stuffed full. Yet you can’t help but look up when his gaze lingers too long, when your omega shifts under the scrutinizing gaze of an alpha. He’s trying to read you like he used to be able to. You wish you could hide better from him, but you’ll never be able to truly keep your thoughts and feelings under wraps. 

Not from him. 

You’re banned from the kitchen as food is cleaned up and placed in the fridge and dishes are washed. Instead you find yourself on the couch, staring into the flickering flames of the fire. Kyle takes a seat next to you, sitting down with a quiet groan. 

“How are you?” He asks, draping his arm on the back of the couch behind you. 

“Fine.” You say, still turned to face the fire. “Full.” 

He lets out a quiet chuckle. “Same. Don’t think I’ve been this full in a long time.” 

“That’s the point of the holiday.” You say. “Eat until you pass out.” That’s what your father used to do, slipping into a food coma after dinner in his chair. As much as you hate him, you do miss those quiet evenings where you could loosen up and not care about his calculating gaze. 

“Feeling tired?” He asks, and you can feel his questioning gaze hitting the side of your head. 

“No,” You respond, and it’s the truth. There’s far too much going on in your head to even nap right now. 

It falls silent for a few moments, only the sounds from the kitchen and the crackling of the fire breaking the silence. You’re far away in your thoughts, replaying the last few weeks over and over in your head. 

“Penny for your thoughts?” John asks, breaking you from your reverie. He takes a seat on the other couch, facing you. 

“Just thinking about how much time has passed.” You answer, tucking your knees up close to your chest. “It’s been almost a year and yet it feels like it’s only been a few weeks.” 

John hums. “You would have been with the CIA already by this time.” 

You nod. “Yeah. I was picked up just after Halloween. Didn’t really have Christmas last year. The CIA wasn’t exactly the most festive place. They had bigger things to worry about.” 

“Did you miss it, Christmas?” He asks. 

“Well, yeah. Of course, even if we didn’t really celebrate much in the institute either. We didn’t have any gifts to give each other outside of things we were supplied with by the institute. They didn’t really bother decorating either. We got the day off, of course, and we had a nicer meal than usual, but it wasn’t really some big festive celebration.” You shrug. “It was always a big deal in my house. It was my mom’s favorite holiday.” 

You cut yourself off before the emotions can get to be too heavy. You’ve already almost lost it once in front of them today. The last thing you want is to risk that again. You’ve spilled too many words already. The last thing you want is to spill more. 

John’s gaze leaves you to look at Kyle next to you, the two of them sharing a silent conversation. You’ve always envied their abilities to speak to each other without words. You wish you could know them that well, you wish you could understand them on that level. You wish you shared the bonds they have with each other. You’ll always be the odd man out, the outsider. You’ll never have that closeness, that ease with which they exist around each other. 

You’re beginning to see it again, the fluidity between them, moving around each other without needing to look, always aware of the others. Here you are again, on the outside of that once more. Things really have gone back to the way they were before, back when things were new and foreign and unknown. You’re an unknown factor in this dynamic again, all of them tiptoeing around you like you might explode if they get too close, if they push those boundaries again. 

Part of you hates it. Part of you likes it. 

You’re not sure what to feel anymore. 

You tilt your head back, thumping it against Kyle’s hand. “Sorry.” You quickly sit yourself back up. “Done that twice now I guess.” 

“No need to apologize.” He says, his hand dropping to your shoulder to lean you back again. His hand gently cups the back of your head, rubbing soothing circles into your scalp with his fingers. 

You let out a content hum, your eyes fluttering closed. It falls silent between the three of you as Kyle slowly works you into a comfortable, content state. Your omega begins to almost purr contently, and for the first time in a while, she doesn’t feel quite so out of control. 

The days start to make more sense as you now have an idea where you are on the calendar. It’s the end of November, meaning in just a few weeks it’ll be Christmas. The guys haven’t said anything about celebrating, so you haven’t gotten your hopes up. Still, you can’t hide that itch in the back of your mind, that desire to have a proper celebration for your first year out of the institute. 

“You know you can tell them what you want.” Dr. Keller says, sitting in the chair next to you. “We’ve gone over this. I’m sure those guys would turn the world upside down if you asked them to.” 

“I just...I don’t know how.” You say. “What if they have no plans for Christmas? What if they weren’t planning anything? What if this is too last minute?” 

“There’s a little under a month till Christmas. It’s hardly last minute.” Dr. Keller says. “Even if they say no, then we’ll have a celebration. Just the two of us.” 

“You’d do that for me?” You ask, turning to look at her. 

“Of course. If you want to celebrate Christmas, then we will, no matter what the others decide.” She says firmly. “If they don’t wish to participate, then they don’t have to.” 

“That’s...really kind of you.” You say. She’s done so much for you already, and here she is offering to do more. 

“It’s what I’m here for.” She says. “Whatever you want to do. Decorate, bake cookies, go shopping. All of the above.” She reaches over, squeezing your hand. “You’re in charge.”

You’re in charge. 

Your omega nearly preens at the words, starting to get excited. Yet, you’re not quite sure how you feel about that kind of pressure being placed on you. It’s not in your nature to be in charge...or at least that’s what the institute taught you. Omegas are submissive and follow their alpha’s orders. 

The institute was wrong about a lot of things, though. Maybe you do want to be in charge. Maybe if you’re in charge, things will start to get better. Maybe if you’re in charge, you can finally get your pack in line and get them doing what you want them to do. 

It’s far too early for you to be awake. It’s still dark out, no light filtering through the gaps in the curtains. There’s light coming through the gaps in the door, though, and you can hear quiet rustling. 

“It’s still crooked.” You hear Kyle’s voice through the wall. 

“I’m doin’ the best I can.” Johnny retorts. 

More rustling and quiet tinkling sounds through the wall. There’s no more hope for sleep for you now, your interest far too piqued as to what they’re doing. You slide out of bed, rubbing your eyes as you pad across the cold floor to the door. 

You’re not ready for what you find on the other side. 

All four of them pause as your door opens and you take half a step out the doorway. You freeze, hand still over one of your eyes. Johnny is standing on a stepstool, leaning over a tree. Kyle is standing next to him, peeking around him to look at you. Simon is frozen in front of the fireplace, garland hanging from his hands. John is standing between the couches, a round ornament in each hand. 

You slowly lower your hand from your eye, sweeping your gaze over the four of them once more. “What are you doing?” You ask, even though you already know the answer to that question. 

“Decorating.” The four of them say all at once. 

“We were going to surprise you when you got up.” Kyle says. 

“We were trying to be quiet.” John says. “But those two muppets can’t get the star properly on the tree.” 

“You’ve got it on the branch wrong.” Kyle says. 

“It won’t go any other way.” Johnny argues. 

They go back to what they were doing, almost as if you’re not there. You’re glad for it as tears begin to fill your eyes. They’re decorating. They were decorating to surprise you. You can’t help but wonder if Dr. Keller expressed your desire for a proper Christmas to them on your behalf, but part of you knows she wouldn’t do that. She’s pushing you too hard to take control to do that. 

Maybe they’re doing it because they want to. Maybe this was their plan all along. 

“Let me do it.” Kyle says, tugging on Johnny’s shirt. 

“I can do it just fine.” Johnny persists, still fiddling with the star on the tree. 

You roll your eyes, moving over to them. “Move. I’ll do it.” 

Neither of them argue as Johnny steps down off the stool, letting you climb up. You can feel their hands hovering as you stand up on your toes, reaching for the top of the tree. You bend the top branch, situating the star on properly for them. 

“See! I told you.” Kyle says, his hands still hovering as you climb down off the stool. 

“My way would have worked just fine.” Johnny pouts. 

“I’m sure it would have.” You shrug, patting his arm before walking away. 

You join John in sorting through ornaments as Kyle and Johnny finish adjusting the lights on the tree. They’re all brand new, sealed in the boxes still. So they went shopping for all of this. You don’t suppose a summer house would have Christmas decorations laying around. It’s touching that they did this for you, even if they didn’t know you’d want it. 

“Thank you.” You say, fiddling with the hook on one of the ornaments. “For doing this.” 

“It wouldn’t be fair to not give you a proper Christmas.” John says. “Not when it means so much to you.” 

A small smile tugs at your lips, tears starting to fill your eyes again. “I appreciate it. More than you know.” 

You don’t flinch as he reaches out, gently running a hand over your head as you wipe the tear that falls. It’s nice, feeling his touch again. You hadn’t realized how much you missed it. You wrap your fingers around his wrist, holding his hand against the side of your head. You barely realize you’re doing it as you press your nose into his wrist, breathing in his fresh, woodsy scent. Petrichor, damp earth. It fills your nose like it did the first time you scented him, making your head spin. 

For the first time in a while, your omega lays comfortably in the back of your mind, settled contently back into her cage. 

You stand there nervously, staring at your alpha. He hasn’t acknowledged you yet, giving you a moment to gather yourself. You’re nervous, your palms sweaty, even if you have nothing to be nervous about. The worst he can say is no, and then you’ll have an excuse. Or he’ll say he’ll do it himself, then one surprise will be ruined at least. 

“Yes, sweetheart?” 

Sweetheart. It’s been a long time since you’ve heard that nickname spoken in such a way. Your omega rolls over and shows her belly, ready to submit to his quiet purr of your nickname. 

“I...I wanted to ask you something.” You say, shifting nervously on your feet. Now is the time. Now is when you have to be brave and voice your wants. 

“Go ahead.” He says, putting his phone down and turning to face you.

You almost wish he wouldn’t. You wish he’d stay turned away, attention on his phone so he can half pay attention to what you’re saying. No, instead he has to give you his full attention and put even more pressure on you. 

The words catch on your tongue, choking you as you attempt to be brave, as you attempt to take this leap into unknown territory. 

The worst he can say is no. 

“I want to go Christmas shopping.” The words come out fast, almost slurring together in your haste to voice them before you lose all the courage that led you to this point. 

He leans back in his seat and you prepare for the worst, you prepare for the no waiting to come out and put an end to your silly little request. You’ll sulk and cry about it in the safety of your room. Now you have to be strong. 

“Okay.” He says. 

You nearly turn and run in shame before the meaning of the word settles into your brain. You stand there in surprise, staring at him with wide eyes. 

“Okay?” You parrot, your brain still trying to comprehend what it is he’s saying. 

“Okay.” He repeats. “You’ll have to take one of us with you, though. You can’t leave unprotected, even with Christine.” 

“I’ll go.” 

The voice makes you jump, spinning on your heel to face Simon. You hadn’t even heard him approach. You stare in surprise at the other alpha. He hasn’t made much of an effort to insert himself back into your life. You were half sure he hated you again with how he’s been acting. 

“Alright.” John says, his voice almost as surprised as you feel. 

It will be nice having the hulking alpha following you around. You think back to when you went lingerie shopping with Johnny. How long ago that seems now. People had gone out of their way not to walk too close to you and your protector. No one will want to mess with you with him around.

“Go with Christine.” John says, making you turn back around to look at him in surprise. 

“Really?” You ask in disbelief. 

He nods. “I think it will be good for you, getting out of the house. Just don’t stay out too long.” He turns back to his phone and you turn back to look at Simon, but he’s gone. 

“This might be a tad bit overwhelming at first.” Dr. Keller says as she drives through town. “It’s been a while since you’ve been in a populated place.” 

“I’ll be fine.” You say, even if you don’t really believe it. You had prepared for this possibility in the days you’ve thought about this trip. 

John wanted you to go early on a weekday, when it was less likely to be too crowded. While crowded might hide you better, it also left too many possibilities for someone to sneak up on you. 

“You say the word and we’ll go.” Dr. Keller says. “I can always come back later and finish shopping for you.” 

“Okay.” You say, still staring out the window at the buildings. It’s been a while since you’ve seen so many buildings all in one spot. 

Simon is quiet in the passenger seat, also watching out the window. You wonder what’s going through his head, if he regrets volunteering to come along. You wonder why he did volunteer in the first place. You know safety is of the highest concern now while Shepherd is still out there. Does he not trust anyone else to protect you? That’s a possibility. 

There’s another rift in the bonds. 

Dr. Keller pulls into the Tesco parking lot, many cars there even for so early in the morning. Everyone else had the same idea as John. 

“Try to make this as quick as possible.” Simon says as you undo your seatbelt. “The sooner we can get in and out, the better.” 

Dr. Keller gives him a look, something passing between the two of them before she opens her car door. You get out as well, pulling your jacket tighter around you as the cold air hits your skin. It had been warm in the car, the heat cranked for your sake. 

You’re half tempted to hold Simon’s hand as you cross the parking lot. You doubt he’d let you. He might pull away and that would be worse. That would ruin the whole trip. Old habits, you think. He’s barely spoken to you, so much as made an effort to rekindle the relationship between you. That would be pushing things too far. 

Instead you stick close to Dr. Keller, trying not to panic as you walk into the building with the bright lights and the people. It’s gross, making you squint for a moment as Simon grabs a cart, your eyes taking a moment to adjust. 

“What are you planning on getting?” Dr. Keller asks, trying to distract you. 

“I-I don’t know.” You stay, blinking at aisle after aisle of products. “I didn’t think this far ahead. I thought John would say no.” 

“Well, what do you think they’d like?” She asks. 

What would they like? What do they like? You’re drawing a blank as you think about them. How little you know about them too. 

Kyle. Kyle likes skincare. He’s always prioritized that on base. Maybe you’ll get him something related to that. 

You start for the cosmetics section, Simon following like a shadow behind you and Dr. Keller. What kind of skincare does Kyle like? You know he uses coconut oil after he showers. He always smells good. Maybe something exfoliating? Something moisturizing? Both? 

You stand in front of the skincare, drawing a blank as you look at the many options. Dr. Keller and Simon stand there quietly as you deliberate, suddenly overwhelmed by the choice you have to make. 

“Who are you shopping for right now?” Dr. Keller asks, obviously picking up on your discomfort. 

“Kyle.” You say. “I know he likes skincare.” 

“Hmm.” Dr. Keller hums, looking at the options as well. “How about something like this?” She picks up a gift set with cleanser and moisturizer. “Something to cover all the basics?” 

You nod. “Okay. That sounds good.” 

Simon says nothing, offering no words of advice as she puts it in the cart. Maybe he doesn’t even know his own pack that well. Or maybe this is his way of showing his displeasure for you. Let you flounder and get the wrong thing. You want to believe he wouldn’t be that cruel. 

You wander the aisles, looking for gifts for the other three. You pass by a spa kit, pausing for a moment. You should get one for Dr. Keller. She deserves some pampering and relaxation after weeks of taking care of you. 

You put two in the cart, grabbing one for Ashley as well. 

Johnny. What does Johnny like? Art. He likes art. Maybe something with art supplies. 

You head for that section, Simon still following behind silently, aside from the clinking of the cart as he pushes it. 

You pause as you pass by a display of teddy bears. Johnny sleeps with a stuffed bear. You know that. You’ve cuddled with it yourself. It’s probably back on base with the rest of your belongings. He must miss it. 

You grab one, putting it in the cart. 

“For Johnny.” You say as Dr. Keller gives you a look. 

Simon still doesn’t say anything, but his scent reaches your nose as you walk past him. 

The alphas. John and Simon. The two you seem to know the least. What do they like? What would they want as gifts? Simon likes knives and masks, but you’re not sure you could just buy a knife in the UK like you could in America. You could just ask him, considering he’s here with you, but that feels almost intrusive. He’ll know what you get him regardless, but asking him seems like a daunting task. 

You continue wandering the aisles, looking for something that John might want. 

You pass by a gift set of tea, pausing as you stare at it. He likes tea. He might like some other options than what’s at the house. 

You put it in the cart. 

Now Simon. The hardest of the four. 

You continue wandering the aisles before you pause in the books section. Simon likes to read. You do know that. You’ve scoured the shelf at the cottage enough to know what’s there and what’s not. Maybe you’ll get Simon some new books. Something that’s not available to you currently. 

You pick out a couple before putting them in the cart. 

“Okay.” You say, staring at the selection you’ve grabbed. “I think I’m done.” 

“You’re sure?” Dr. Keller asks. 

You nod. “Yeah. I don’t want to do anything too over the top.” 

You really don’t. The last thing you want is to do too much too soon. 

You pause as you walk past the candy aisle, grabbing a handful of candy canes and putting them in the cart before heading for the checkout. 

Dr. Keller pays with cash as you load the bags into the cart. You’re ready to be out of the store with its bright lights and loud music and people. It’s starting to get busier, more and more people coming in the doors there to do their Christmas shopping as well. 

Simon loads the bags into the trunk as you climb into the car with Dr. Keller. 

“How do you feel?” She asks as you let out a breath. 

“A bit overwhelmed.” You say honestly. 

“It’s a lot going from isolation to a supermarket. I think you did good, though.” She praises you. 

The door opens as Simon climbs into the passenger seat. He’s barely said a word the entire trip, looming in silence like he used to. Part of it makes your chest hurt, that he would regress so much after what happened, but part of you understands. He had to make a big decision on your behalf, push himself past his comfort zone to save your life. Of course he’d want some distance after everything. You wouldn’t blame him if he didn’t want anything to do with you again. 

It’s far too early when light seeps into your room before disappearing. You keep your eyes closed, willing whoever had just entered your room to vanish before they reach the bed. 

You’re not so lucky, a hand settling on your shoulder and gently shaking you. 

“Time to rise and shine.” A soft voice says. 

You let out an irritated grumble, trying to pull the blanket up over your head. 

“It’s Christmas morning, don’t you want to go open your presents?” That hand shakes you again. 

“Sleep.” You murmur, curling up in a ball under the comforter. 

“It’s already 10 am.” The voice says again, tugging the blankets down. “They let you sleep longer than they wanted.” 

Last night was a rough one. You had laid awake far too late, staring at the ceiling and then you woke from a nightmare in the middle of the night, and it had taken time to calm yourself and fall back asleep. You’re still exhausted, your eyes burning from tiredness. 

You let out a grunt of displeasure, but you know there’s no getting out of this one. You’re going to be getting up no matter what. 

You slowly stretch out your limbs, rubbing your eyes. “Fine.” You yawn, turning over to press your face into the pillow. “Be up soon.” 

“No going back to sleep.” The hand rubs your back gently. “Then I’ll have to send one of them in and they won’t be quite so nice about it.” 

You hum into the pillow, already feeling sleep tugging at your brain. Despite the warning, your mind sinks back into the comforting realm of rest as your body relaxes back into the bed. 

You’re not sure how long you get to rest before the comforter is torn off of you, landing somewhere on the floor. Hands roll you over and sit you up before your brain can even process. You blink the rapidly fading sleep from your eyes as you’re hauled up, flying through the air for a moment before you’re tossed over a broad shoulder. 

“Time tae get up.” Johnny says, packing you towards the light filtering in through the open door. 

You let out a whine as he packs you out into the warmth and the light before lowering you back down on your feet. Hands stop you from falling backwards, Johnny’s t-shirt clad chest coming into view as you blink the blurriness from your vision. 

“Happy Christmas kitten.” He says, grinning brightly at you. 

You mutter something that sounds like ‘Merry Christmas’ back to him. His hands slowly spin you around, turning you to face the tree. 

You blink in surprise as you stare at the many presents on the floor under the tree. You weren’t expecting that much, though you suppose with six people in the house there would be quite a bit. It’s one gift though that draws your attention. It’s seated on the far side of the tree, nothing but a bow on top of its head. 

“You...you got me a giant bear?” You ask in surprise. 

“Was Si’s idea-oof.” Johnny coughs as Simon hits him on the back. 

You walk over to it, pulling the bow off of its head. You’ve missed your giant bear and the comfort it brought you. That’s the one thing you wish you still had from the barracks, that you’ve been wanting for for weeks. It’s bigger than the one at the barracks, the top of its head reaching your chest when you’re standing in front of it. 

You let your hands run over the soft fur, squeezing its plush face. There’s no cameras in this one. You know they’ve checked, ensured its safety. There’s no one looking back at you as you stare into its dark eyes. 

“What do you think?” Kyle asks. 

“I love it.” You say, trying to stop the waver in your voice. The last thing you want is to cry on Christmas. “Thank you.” 

“Come on.” Hands guide you to the chair, letting you sit down. “You’ve got a lot to open.” 

The next hour is a flurry of wrapping paper and bows as presents get passed around. You open up new shoes and clothes, a set of lacy panties courtesy of Johnny, new books, strawberry scented soap and shampoo, and some other comfort items. 

You’ll never forget Johnny’s face when he opens your gift to him, his eyes lighting up as he stares at the soft bear you picked out. It gets you a big hug and a kiss to the cheek from him, and you know he’s going to be sleeping with it tonight. 

You’re exhausted by the time the last present is opened, rubbing your eyes again. You hadn’t even changed out of your pajamas, feeling underdressed compared to the others. Yet at the same time it makes you feel like a kid again, tearing into presents on Christmas morning, excited to see what you got. 

You look around the room, John and Kyle starting to bag up wrapping paper and clean, Johnny on the couch next to Simon holding his bear, Simon sitting near the fire already cracking open one of the books, and Dr. Keller and Ashley on the other couch talking, sitting very close. It brings a small smile to your face. You’re happy for them. It’s nice to see Dr. Keller getting something positive out of this stay at the cottage. 

You can’t help but think that whatever happens next, maybe it might not be so bad after all. 

“Think we should wake her up?” Kyle asks. 

“No.” John says, standing next to him. “It’s the most relaxed I’ve seen her in weeks.” 

They both stare at you where you lay near the tree, draped over your large bear. You’re sound asleep, mouth slightly parted as you snooze away. 

“I think she likes it.” 

“It was a good choice.” John agrees. “It will certainly help make her more comfortable.” 

“I can’t wait to see how she’s going to fit that on the bed.” Kyle says with a soft smile. 

“Well, you certainly won’t be joining her when she does.” John smirks. 

“I think I can live with that.” Kyle says. “Like you said, whatever makes her more comfortable.” 

“I’m glad she’s loosening up a bit.” John says, turning away from you to head back towards the dining table. 

“So am I. She deserves to feel safe and comfortable.” 

“She does. We need to make sure she feels that way all the time, no matter what.” 

“I want to help her.” Kyle says longingly. 

“I know. And we can, but we have to let her lead.” John says. “The best we can do is listen to her and give her what she needs, even if it's not what we think is best. We don’t really know what’s best for her in the end. Only she does.” He reaches up, cupping Kyle’s cheek. “We need to focus on each other too.” 

“I know.” Kyle says, leaning into his touch. “I want to.” 

John’s lips twitch in a small smile. “Good. Because so do I.” 

NEXT ->

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[novemberheart]

{overview} Your pack comes home

{warnings} fem reader, cursing, a/b/o dynamics, poly 141, chapter story, short chapter, fighting, slight angst

Chapter 36 <- Chapter 37 -> Chapter 38

“John I”-

“Get in now,” he growled lowly. You swallowed, holding Vernie closer in comfort. Kyle stayed by the car opening the door for you. Both of them were being pelted by rain. You swore you could see steam coming off of them.

“Kyle,” you started. He nodded his head towards the car, urging you along. You crawled in, already shedding your backpack off. The car was warm, infested with the putrid smell of an angry alpha. The door shut behind you, Kyle and John getting in the front.

This wasn't the reunion you had expected.

You could probably say the same for them.

Your eyes locked on the rearview mirror, hoping to catch John’s gaze. His knuckles were white against the steering wheel, the only sound being some labored breathing and rain snapping against the military-grade vehicle. You chewed your bottom lip, angling yourself towards Kyle.

You wanted to touch him.

You refrained.

The car came to another screeching halt, both men getting out. John opened the door for you this time. He refused to look at you. It was in the elevator when you started to crack. You resisted the urge to throw yourself at John, instead curling against the elevator wall.

“Go take a shower and get warm,” John commanded, opening the front door. Johnny and Simon were at the counter. You whimpered low in your throat, Johnny’s face curling At the sound. Simon was looking at you.

His eyes were completely unreadable beside the glimmer of dissatisfaction. He didn’t even seem angry. Maybe John was angry enough for the both of them.

You couldn’t bear it.

You latched onto Simon first, loud sobs wracking your body. He was stiff under you for a moment, before melting against you. It was biological.

“Stupid girl,” he grumbled, lips rough against your raw cheek.

“I’m sorry,” you sputtered, your claws tearing the thick layers covering his shoulder. He pulled away, his hand resting against your stomach to keep distance between the two of you.

“Go shower. We’ll talk then,” he commanded. You sniffled, nodding in agreement. You picked Vernie off the floor heading towards the bathroom to get her dried off. You shedded your clothes, opening the bathroom door just enough for Vernie to slip back through. She immediately paddled over to Johnny who hoisted her up, his nose resting against her scruff.

She smelled like you.

The bathroom door opened while you were in the shower, Kyle’s arm darting in to drop off a few clothes before closing.

They couldn’t be that mad.

Maybe the fact you had been separated so long was working in your favor.

They were sitting on the couch when you came out. It was eerily quiet, all of them sitting up straight upon your arrival.

“I want you to start with your visit to the medical center,” John spoke, leading as always. You decided to settle on the floor, the carpet plush under your knees.

“You were looking at my chip?” You questioned.

“Of course. That’s why we got it,” He replied instantly.

You had them right where you wanted.

“You had time to do that but none to call me?” You shot back. “I’m not an idiot. I’ve been marked. No effort is needed anymore,” you grumbled.

They didn’t like that.

Well, neither did you.

The hairs on your neck stood up at the sound of their low growls. It was like they did it unintentionally, immediately cutting themselves off as you shrunk back.

“Laswell had access to it,” Kyle spoke. “She’d keep us updated. We weren’t in a position to contact you,” Kyle explained. It felt condescending. Like all of them were confused as to the point you were trying to make.

“I don’t believe you,” you replied bluntly. “Before you were able to contact me every few days at least then all of a sudden that changed?” You questioned.

“Yes,” Simon interjected. “Calling you would lead to risks and put you in danger.”

“You could’ve sent a message through Laswell,” you argued.

“We couldn't,” Simon affirmed. “You're just going to have to understand that,” Simon barked, moving to a stand. Your face curled, your body following close behind. You rested your chin against your knees. John sighed, running a hand over his face.

“Why’d you go to the medical center?” John pressed. His voice was softer, resembling your alpha.

“I fell earlier this week. I thought it was okay but it started to look infected. I got it taken care of.”

They hated how monotone you sounded.

“Went by yourself?” Johnny spoke up. You knew he would have the biggest problem with you going through something like that alone.

“No one was here,” you spat back.

John stood up and Simon spun on his heels. Both of them opened their mouths to speak. John was able to get the words out faster.

“Stop actin’ like you weren't taken care of,” he growled. “Yes, you were alone, and I did everything in my power to make sure that didn't happen, but you were safe here. We made sure you had enough to last you for three times the amount of time we were supposed to be gone. It may not feel like it sometimes but everything we do is for you, even things you don't quite see,” he finished with a shaky breath.

“Really? So sitting in a hospital room alone, absolutely terrified of what's wrong with me is you taking care of me?”

“Course not,” he shot back. “I hate that you had to go through that and were without the people that are supposed to make things alright for you. But you understood what would happen if you joined this pack. I’ll put you first- no matter what- but it can't always be instant,” he spoke through a clenched jaw.

You could feel yourself softening by the minute.

You hated it.

You weren't ready to just get over it.

They had cut you off like it was nothing. Even now they sat before you showing very little signs of actually missing you. Maybe they were still angry at you for leaving the base.

“Can I go to bed now?” you asked quietly.

“No,” Simon responded. “The hell were you thinking leaving base?”

“Self sabotage?” you shrugged. “Maybe I wanted to get back at all of you for leaving me for so long. Maybe I wanted to prove to myself that I could actually do something. Maybe I wanted to see if it would make you come home,” you choked, turning your head over your shoulder.

They remained silent.

This was unbearable. Your eyes red and swollen. The sting of lemons in the air. Your knotted hair.

All because of them.

And their fucking jobs.

“Should bloody ‘retire’ after this,” John growled, taking a large puff of his cigar. Nothing sounded better at the moment. Two weeks away from you hitting him like a truck. He could retire from the field and resign himself to paperwork. He’d get the two of you a house with some land for you and Vernie to run around. Take you into town for dates. Take you out on the lake and teach you how to fish. He’d grill every night and the two of you would end each night looking at the stars.

His radio going off snapped him out of his thoughts.

Simon groaned at his headache, popping another pill in his mouth. They were some form of suppressants. It was supposed to make being away from you easier. Those who had insisted they worked obviously didn't have an omega like you.

“Right behind you,” Simon nearly chuckled.

He wasn't quite ready to retire yet. He still had some fight in him. But he had underestimated just how much you had domesticated him. The thought of stretching out in a recliner with you propped on his lap was far more compelling than this.

The betas had been worse off. Johnny had been acting like a zombie since day four. His fingers are constantly rolling the bracelet you had made him between his fingers. Kyle was just prick. Growing more and more frustrated each time he was denied access to you, whether by phone or through tracking. At least they had Laswell.

They had to persevere.

The enemy was lurking around. Waiting for one slip up. One thing to hold over their head.

What better thing than you?

“Don’t do it again,” John chided coldly. You wiped your eyes against your shoulder, nodding.

“Can I go to bed now?” You repeated, even softer than before. “All of you are tired too,” you added, already moving to a stand.

Their brows furrowed as you made your way towards your door.

Your mattress was still in John’s room from your heat. There had been no reason to move it back.

Had you moved it back?

“Fat fucking chance,” Johnny growled, connecting the distance. “Just got back from a month of hell and I’d rather die than sleep alone,” he gruffed. “That’s the only way you could get me to sleep alone,” he added. His hands found your waist, easily lifting you up. A small moan escaped you at the contact, your body begrudgingly aching for his touch. He purred roughly, his nose buried in your neck. His hand twisted the knob to your room. You hadn’t moved anything back. John breathed a sigh of relief.

“What were you going to do? Sleep on the floor?” John questioned.

“I want to be by myself,” you breathed, your legs trying to touch the ground.

“You’ve been by yourself enough,” Kyle piqued up. “In that head of yours,” he murmured the last part. You were tossed on the bed, the sheets cold and uninviting. The pit in your stomach only grew, your face hiding itself in the pillows. Johnny flopped down next to you, Kyle following suit. John and Simon remained in the doorway, Simon disappearing towards his room.

You were sandwiched between the two betas, which was all you had wanted the past few weeks. Now you wanted anything else.

“Some forced proximity will do you good,” Kyle sighed, his arm tossed over you and Johnny. You remained silent and still, breathing in the familiar scent of your nest. It smelt like you. No traces of your pack embedded within its fibers. It wasn’t theirs anymore. It was yours.

It was yours.

They were infringing on your territory.

A nasty snarl escaped you, causing both betas to take a scoot back.

“Bonbon?” Johnny breathed. The sound could’ve rivaled an alphas. Their stomach churned, John shifting on his feet. The noise echoing in his brain, his alpha on fight mode. Something had frightened you. His eyes shrunk, looking for a threat.

The air escaping his lungs when he realized.

They were the threats.

He bit the inside of his cheek, his mouth tangy from copper.

“Give ‘er space you two,” he commanded. “Now,” his voice urgent. The betas crawled out slowly, their eyes pleading- their eyes waiting. Waiting for you to whine and usher them back into bed. Pleading for you to seek comfort in them. Instead they got your back, your scent increasing in the air to drown out theirs. John grabbed them both by the arm, pulling them towards the door.

They felt a wave of relief when you stood up, face downcast as you headed towards the door. Johnny extended his arm, ready to meet you in the middle. That was quickly replaced with dread when it shut in their faces.

Hi friends! 👋See you in four days for chapter 38! As always lots of love 🧡

[nerdygirlramblings]

really want to write more about Oz, but the omegaverse worms keep entering my brain

cw: attempted accents

previous

Price clocked your reactions this afternoon. He isn't stupid. He knows that being a woman, and an omega in particular, puts a target on your back. The prejudice against both your primary and secondary genders means you need to be so much better than your peers, and you are. You are outstanding in your field. Extraordinary. He's not surprised some other task force hasn't snatched you up before now.

Thankfully, he got you to agree to dinner with the team, so he has help in convincing you to join them as a teammate. And once you're on the team, they can work on convincing you to join the pack.

Two hours after you left his office, and with your parents' words ringing in your ears, you're in the mess, waiting alone at a table in the back. You're usually in the mess alone but try not to linger long. An unclaimed omega alone around so many alphas is practically asking for trouble. Just as you start worrying about Captain Price and the others, he walks in flanked by the largest man you've ever seen in your entire life, his face hidden by a mask with a painted skull on it. Price is big, but the man next to him is taller and almost twice as wide.

Price is looking around the room, but the masked man leans towards Price and points in your direction. When he sees you, Price breaks into a grin and starts heading your way. As he and the large man in the mask approach, you're able to see two smaller - in comparison - men behind them, moving with a purpose that lets you know this is the full 141. Besides Price and the mountain, there's a stocky white man with a mohawk and a beautiful, lithe black man.

When they all stand in front of you, you can smell Price's autumnal scent along with another alpha whose scent is layered in something sharp, like ginger, onion, and garlic. It's a smell you associate with Mum's cooking, but you know many find it off-putting. There's a scent of saplings or fresh snapped greenery mixed with the mellow smell of a warm day: a spring scent coated in beta. The last is another beta, but this scent is crisp and brine, the ocean made flesh. You wonder whose scent is whose.

Price steps forward, offering you his wrist, his scent, again. As you take it and bring it closer to your face, he smiles and says, "Glad ya came." You dip your head in a slight nod and drop his hand, and he takes the seat across from you. He introduces the rest of the pack task force in turn, each man politely offering their wrist before sitting down. You recognize the informal scenting ritual common when joining new groups. You did the same with your squad when you first came to base.

Leftenant Simon "Ghost" Riley is the other alpha. He is sat next to Price. Sergeant John "Soap" MacTavish smells like the ocean, and Sergeant Kyle "Gaz" Garrick is spring. With your permission, the sergeants are sat on either side of you.

"I wan'ed ya ta be able to put faces to the 141 before ya made yer decision," Price tells you. "This way if ya wan'ed ta see what are trainin' looks like or ask about anything, ya'd know who ta ask." Then he surprises you when he suggests you go with the sergeants, the betas, to grab trays for everyone.

"Gaz and Soap know wha' we like," he says, pointing between him and Ghost. "They can get ours while we hold the fort." He must read the confusion on your face, but he only smiles in response. This was not the behavior of an alpha trying to prove his worth to an omega. This was a Captain letting you converse with members of the task force equal to you in rank without superior officers around.

As you make your way to the food, you see Soap eyeing you. You look back a few times, clearly puzzled and a little off balance, until Gaz finally elbows him and says, "Either spit it out, mate, or stop gawkin'."

Soap grins almost manically. "Aye seen ye running th'other morn. Yoor form neyver waivered. Was a sight," he sighs. You remember someone complementing your form after a run about a week back.

"Oh, tha' was you? You were quick!"

"Nae as quick as yoo, lass. I saw yoo pass the barracks foor times. An' aye could tell yoo'd been runnin' a fair bit befoor aye saw ye. Aye cannae run tha' consistently." He doesn't miss the way you blush as his compliment.

You stand in line behind Soap with Gaz at your back. They aren't alphas, but it's hard to miss how their presence calms you, and that's without them projecting their scents for you. Simply knowing you aren't here alone, that people are here who have your back, is enough.

next

[ghouljams]

More omegaverse with knight!Ghost and princess!reader

Because the problem is that you see your knight as something better than the man that he is. You know Ghost would never hurt you so you don't suspect that he wants to. You know that his oath keeps him by your side so you never see how badly he wants to leave it. You see him, smell him, to be this perfect model alpha, the protector made to serve and molded in blind loyalty, and you don't know how the horribly crying beast in his breast that lashes and tears at its restraints in an increasingly desperate attempt to hold you between its teeth and shake.

You need more protection than a simple knight can provide. A princess has value if she's the only heir to the throne and it bristles against Ghost's nature to think that if he left you there'd be no one to fill the gap. Maybe if you hadn't been so against the inevitability of marriage your outer kin wouldn't have resorted to such dastardly means of ascension.

As such when the heavy wooden beam above the pulpit collapses as you take communion, your lovely head bowed and your mouth open to receive a salvation that Ghost could only find between your thighs, there is no one else to save you but him. And far be it from him to deny himself the pleasure.

It satisfies some baser instinct to hear the creak of wood splintering, to feel the sudden rush of bloody adrenaline, to grab you and hold you. Tackle you really. A flurry of momentum that wraps its hand around your head to cradle you close and save you from the worst of the impact when you hit the ground and find yourself blanketed by metal plates. And anise seed.

Sharp peppercorn that tickles in your nose and sparks on your tongue only to be softened into a slow indulgent sweetness by the anise that sticks to the roof of your mouth and crumbles against your tongue like a spiced biscuit. It makes your teeth itch for a taste.

Ghost feels the change in your scent before he smells it, feels the bloom of warmth that trickles through his stomach and settles heavy around his cock, your soft scent teasing him like the stroke of a hand. He could part your legs and take you here. You're already in a church, what better place could there be? Knot you, mark you, make you his, only his, utterly his, always his, his, his.

He opens his mouth and feels the pool of drool that wets his mask, the ache of his teeth to bite, to claim. He gets no relief when he presses his hips against you, too many layers of padding, mail, armor. Too many barriers when he can feel the heat of you like a brand, your scent writing itself in deep carvings over grey matter.

"Ghost?" You question.

Consecrated ground stained with the red of virginal blood, drunk like wine, feasted on-

"Ghost." You press, your hands against his breastplate.

Your neck stretched long, his teeth notched against their home, placed like a cornerstone, sinking, sinking, sinking, until he never has to remove them, until the priest is forced to call it. Man and wife, hades and persephone, the monster and its-

"Simon," You whisper, your hands snuck under his helm to hold his face, "I'm alright."

His breath shudders from him, his chest pulling in a final heaving breath before he pushes away from you. His eyes train on the broken banister, your sneaking hands pulled close to your chest. Skin to familiar skin, right where his lips should be.

"Report." He barks to a nearby knight. He needs something else to sink his teeth into, some heartier rabbit to slaughter, or he'll dig his violent hands into you.