#alpha!gaz

[waves-against-a-cliff]

After the end - Post-apocalyptic Omegaverse AU

Summary - You missed the end of the world. Fine by you. You thrived in your new surroundings, content to be on your own. Until something happens during your third winter.

Tags - Omegaverse (duh), alpha/beta/omega dynamics, non traditional dynamics, all of the 141 are alphas, you're an omega. Eventual smut, dub-con, knotting, mating press, polyamory, alphas love alphas. Uh... This came to me in a fever dream. Consider this a prologue. 141 x reader

You think you're pretty lucky all things considered. You had always been self sufficient and your childhood gave you skills you were able to call on after the entire world shat itself. To be honest, you hadn't even noticed the world had completely gone to ruin until you tried to call your pharmacy to refill your heat and scent suppressants.

The line was dead. So you called the grocery store. Dead. The movie theater, the diner, the post office. Dead dead dead. Panic seized you by the throat and you dropped your home phone onto the ground. You splashed cold water onto your face and looked into the mirror with puffy eyes and shaking hands.

What were you going to do? The world couldn't have ended. Right? You should have noticed sooner. "Fuck," you said, pulling on your shoes and grabbed your car keys, you got into your car, "fuck!"

As it turns out, you did in fact miss the ending of the world. You yelled obscenities and banged on your steering wheel. The entire small town you lived near was deserted. Windows were boarded up and cars were parked by the road with tires missing or windows smashed in.

You missed the entire end of the world.

As it turns out, the end of the world wasn't that bad. Nothing really changed. Well besides the rarity of getting your hands on heat suppressants and scent blockers. The first week after you finally got caught up on the whole "the world has ended" thing you raided.

You avoided using your car after you got a mild scare that someone else had been attracted to the noise. Hiding in the very smelly gas station bathroom while you listened to the sound of boots crunching on glass was enough to teach you that lesson.

You tore apart the pharmacy the first week, finding what had to be at least four months worth of scent blockers and nine months of heat suppressants. You took everything you deemed useful and stuffed it into your backpack before hiking back home.

You set up a routine, patrol the forest edge twice a day, care for your garden and check any trap for animals to eat. Self sufficiency had never been such a blessing.

It was the middle of winter three years later when you first saw them.

Men. No, not just men. Alphas. Their scent almost made your knees buckle when you smelt it down wind. For a moment your mind went hazy as their smells flooded your mind until that part of your brain that had been responsible for your survival kicked back in.

Alphas. In your territory. Your territory. It felt like a crime and you felt your inner omegas turmoil. As you watched the four men walk down the road that led into town through your binoculars you debated on what you should do. Run, flee while you are down wind. With shaky hands, whether from the cold or fear you didn't know, you climbed down from the perch you were on and sprinted back home while doing your best to cover your own tracks.

You went in circles, outside in the cold long past when your hands and feet had gone cold. But you were sure they couldn't follow. You were sure they didn't even know you were there.

Three years. You had been off of heat suppressants and scent blockers for years. After a while your heats had stopped coming, whether it was from lack of sleep or stress or some evolutionary thing that happened when no one to mate was around, the bottom line was that you were unprepared.

You boarded up your door and threw water on your fire. You grabbed every blanket in the house and ran into your bedroom. At first you did it for warmth. If you were going to hide you couldn't have fire to give out smoke and you needed to be warm.

Then you continued to mess with the blankets and pillows. You huffed, growing increasingly frustrated at your inability to get it right. You grabbed your laundry and threw it in too, arranged and rearranged until it felt right. It wasn't until you took a step back that you realized what you had done. Something you haven't in years. Before you was a nest. Large enough to fit many in it. Maybe even five. You swallowed hard as your fingers dug into your stomach. It was going to be a long winter.

[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?”

[crunchyroaches27]

”You’re safe, pet.” | TF 141 x omega!reader

OKAYYY BEAR WITH ME! I just released a pt2 of the ghoap post I made but I could not help but write this one. It’s fluff and angst and the same time.

omega!reader is rescued from a Omega trafficking ring by TF141

BACKGROUND INFO

everyone has lil tails and ears (🥺) + Omegaverse AU + they/them pronouns used; Gender neutral + Alphas have pointed canines for marking

there are more characters, like Alejandro but he doesn’t play too much of a major role. He doesn’t deserve to be here

Price is the pack leader. He is an Alpha— the most dominant out of his other mates. His word is absolute law. He likes to regularly scent his pack, it makes him feel reassured that his pack is safe. Price is essentially their cigarette-smoking dad

Ghost is next in line in this chain of command, he is also an Alpha. He is more impulsive than the others and often has to have many restraints, leading to him often being aloof and angsty. Soap likes Ghost, but Ghost is too fucking slow

Gaz is third in line, also an Alpha like the ones before him. He is cool and collected, yet he also is a bit of a rebel— here and there he will challenge Price’s authority and be snarky

And finally, Soap. Poor Soap is at the bottom, being a Beta. Despite not being an Omega, he still carries out monotonous tasks. As the “peacemaker” of his pack, he ensures that all is well between them. That doesn’t mean he isn’t a jackass sometimes. His body scent is fainter, but his scenting abilities are better than the rest bc he is a Beta

In this cruel world made up of Alphas, Betas, and Omegas, there is bound to be danger lurking in every dark alley, every shady nightclub. Over the course of three days, you had seen and felt things you thought would never end. You were used and passed along like a joint. One particular Alpha paid a good fortune for you, and you found yourself dressed in skimpy clothes and drugged with aphrodisiacs. Your pheromones leaked like a pipe. There’s no hope. Why even bother? you thought angstily as you were transported to a new location.

You’d heard of the tragic trafficking of Omegas, but you didn’t expect to experience it firsthand. Omegas have to know every tactic to defend themselves. Your ears drooped in disgust and a sort of disbelief as your body began to enter some sort of stupor; the drugs meant to make you extremely docile and languid were starting to kick in. The sudden sensation of a sharp turn and the screech of wheels snapped you out from your haze. Instead of hearing the usual excited chatter, you heard gunshots. You were too lethargic to even move, so you passed out in your seat. When you awoke, four men surrounded you; three Alphas and one Beta.

You found yourself on a small cot. Three Alphas and one Beta were sniffing your pheromones to deduce your mental, physical, and emotional state. “Aye, Omega’s ‘woken up,” the Beta with the warhawk mumbled. The bearded Alpha hummed. “Hmm. Let’s start with introductions. What’s your name, Omega?” Another Alpha, clad in a skull mask, trilled, seemingly pleased at your arousal (arousal as in the waking up sense!!). “You’re safe, pet. We don’t bite, at least, not unless you want us to.” He jibed with a British lilt once he sensed your fear. His dark-skinned pack mate snorted, rolling his eyes. You could smell he was an Alpha, too.

All of their ears were perked high in expectation, their eyes watching your every move, sniffing every pheromone released into the already stuffy air. “Y/N,” your response made them nod in acknowledgment. “Mm, ‘Kay. We already knew that. Jus’ wanted to see if we got the right person.” The bearded Alpha sighed before continuing. “Well, I’m Price. This ‘ere is Ghost, Gaz on my right, and Soap’s the one in front of ya.” Soap promptly bent down and twinkled at you, his tail wagging. You didn’t even have to ask for their ranks, you could smell it in the bodily fragrances they released— that applied for them too. You could tell that Price, Ghost and Gaz were all Alphas, while Soap was a Beta.

You wondered how they weren't dying to breed you, your pheromones were uncapped and flowing out into the air freely. They must be taking some kick ass suppressors, you surmised. You were, for the lack of better words, glad they weren’t groping your body ravenously. Yet, despite their composed demeanors, glints of wolfish desires were expressed through their eyes. Their tails were rigid and raised.

“We saved you from that trafficking ring— shouldn’t you be more grateful?” Ghost earned himself an elbow pinch from Price. Ghost lowered his ears and grumbled as Gaz snickered. “Omega’s pumped full of drugs. Damnit, they’re barely alive,” Price grunted, his brows knitted— not in regards to Ghost— but at your deplorable condition. “Don’t expect much yet.”

“Soap, call in exfil, we need to go back to base. We need to get this Omega treated.” At Price’s order, Soap’s ears flicked and he soon got to work. “Don’t worry, Omega,” Price murmured, his thick fingers tracing circles on your sunken-in cheeks. He practically melted at the sigh you soughed. “You’re safe, pet.”

One half of you loved his touch, the Omega side that constantly craved the touch and comfort of an Alpha; the other half wanted to flinch back and snarl at it. You’d been touched, and not in a nice way— you didn’t want to bear that again. Yet because Price’s touch was refreshingly compassionate, the former side won.

At the hospital

When you arrived at the base, you were stirred awake by a splitting headache, an after effect of the narcotics. Your vision was bleary but you could tell that you were in an infirmary— and that you were not alone, either.

Ghost and Soap were seated on the chairs adjacent to your little mattress. Their tails were curled curled together as they waited for your awakening. When you finally announced it by clearing your throat, both of their ears shot up in attention and whipped their heads around to face you.

Soap was the first one to detach from the tail-curling and walk towards you, a gentle concern painted onto his face. “Ye feelin’ any better, Omega?” He chuckled at your reply, a tired no. His hands neared to replace the tape covering your scent glands, but then he stopped, seemingly remembering his manners. “Mind if I change ‘em? Not gonna try anything slick,” Soap asked, his icy blue eyes warming themselves for you.

“No,” you croaked. Slowly, he started to strip the tape off, clean your gland, and patch a new piece of tape on. Obviously, your scent had been carried in the air, exciting both Soap and Ghost. You knew Soap had a better nose than the rest. Soap’s pupils had dilated, making you a bit uneasy, “not gonna try anythin’,” he assured you again, smelling your distrust.

“Where’s Price and Gaz?” You questioned, hoping you remembered the name of the two Alphas right. “They’re in Mexico. With a friend; they should be back soon.” Ghost replied, rising to his feet to join Soap. They both assessed you with such focused attention— especially Ghost— making you feel like a piece of meat again. Your ears pinned themselves against your head.

Ghost’s inhaled deeply through his mouth, his breath trembling. He leaned closer towards you, his head tilting to try and whiff up any of your heady pheromones that still lingered in the air from the tape-replacing. Ghost's ears were angled towards you.

Ghost realized what he was doing and promptly gave you your space, as if to prove his salaciousness was kept under control. Or maybe he did it as an apology. "Sorry, just, you smell nice."

Soap hummed in what could be expressed as skepticism.

"Well, I think we should leave 'em to their own devices." Soap said, giving your hand a quick squeeze. He ordered for a glass of water to be delivered to your room before he left with his packmate.

You were left alone with your thoughts. You realized how much of a windfall this was. Out of hundreds of millions, you were saved. You had quite possibly the aid of God by your side. What an occurrence.

Sorry. Didn't really know how to end it, but pt2 will come out fs 😚

[dlphantom]

Let's talk first heat with Alpha!Gaz and Omega!Male Reader for the first time.

𖤓Part 1 ?𖤓

·:*¨༺ ���✮♱ ༻¨*:·

So you guys end up meeting from a co-op mission between you and TF141. You, a mission Intel and data specialist, are sent out on base to help the boys track some recently found evidence of Makarov's location. Something along the lines of some sloppy cam footage and Internet tracing ect..

Anyways, you've got roughly another week before heading back to your own base when your heat strikes. You knew something was off;felt a little too warm in the showers when it was barely at half, your boxers were too itchy when they're freshly washed. So of course you brush it off and just try to get back to your room asap.

It started getting worse the longer you took to get back, trembles all over, excessive sweating, sensitivity to the clothes on your body. Your pheromones were out of whack to say. Which quickly leads to your dorm neighbor-a certain brown eyed beauty- catching a whiff of your tantalizing scent down the hallway.

Getting inside you quickly rush to fling off the icky clothes that scratched you the wrong way. Hands tremble slightly as you pick through your unloaded duffle in the bedside table for the special military issued pills to keep your heat at bay. Internally cursing yourself for not keeping a better eye on the schedule of your body.

While you rummage and murmur to yourself about how much of a jackass you are, a knock on the door shocks you from the craze you're in. "fuck." Wasn't this just the perfect time for some company?

Pushing off your knees roughly you stomp to the door with unintentional anger. Too much was happening right now for someone to come ask something from you.

"yes? What is it?". Ah, that's it. Gaz could smell the anger and frustration in your scent along with the time old tell of an omega in heat.

"You think I could come in for a sec?". Now Gaz was worried if you'd reject him, because even though an alpha should never have to ask for an omegas permission, he was still nice enough to anyway. It's like he could hear your brain mulling over the options through the thick wooden door.

And just as he was about to say something, the door opened just enough for him to see your sweaty irritated face. In that instant everything became clearer. Your smell hit him stronger than ever, causing him to lose grip on the internal urges of a primal alpha.

Quickly he barges in and slams the door shut behind him. His chest rising as he takes in deep raggedy breathes of your scent, oh so sweet and delectable.

"fuckin' 'ell love where has this been the whole time?". With a snarl he pushes forward to grab you by the waist with rough hands. Clearly neither of you mind how aggressive he's being with you, but that always came with the game.

·:*¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨*:·

𖤓 I know it's been a while, and my fandoms have switched a lot but lemme know if y'all would want a part 2. Especially since it hasn't even grazed smut yet.

[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.” 

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[bbystark]

♡ soap's little plan ♡

abo!141 x omega!reader

♡ masterlist ♡ request more! ♡

summary: despite having a pack of his own, soap finds himself wanting more. he's grown tired of being the only Omega with 2 unruly Alphas. good thing you showed up, now he can flush those pesky little suppressants and make you theirs.

⚠︎ suggestive themes, soap being a little obsessed, invasions of privacy

a/n: series??? idk where this came from but enjoy

Soap wasn’t an unhappy man. He was talented, knew just how dangerous he was in the field, how many brushes with death he’d skillfully skirted with a big “fuck you” and a bloody smile. He had the respect of his peers and fear of the new recruits. Most importantly, he had a pack he loved. Never went to bed wanting or alone. His inner Omega should be satisfied, all things considering, and yet, he still yearns. 

He feels guilty sometimes. When he’s laid out on one of his mate’s beds, sweaty and thrumming with release. He rolls over, pressing wet kisses to damp skin and trying to focus on fingers that ghost over his head. Tries to push out the gnawing subconscious thought of more. He wants to scoff at himself. 3 mates and somehow he still couldn’t help but be greedy. 

It’s like Price says in the field (and in the bedroom, funnily enough): “You're a goddamn restless dog ain’t ‘ya? Restless and a dog, indeed. 

His words run through Soap’s mind as he stares at you. His dirty little one-sided secret. He’s watched you for months. Smelled you immediately when his eyes first landed on you, an unforgettable mix of vanilla licorice, fruit, and a tang of something earthy, like grass or rain. So unbelievably feminine and soft, he was intoxicated. Couldn’t help but watch as you walked down the hall. You had glanced at him, eyebrows furrowing slightly; he remembered the chill that ran through him when you locked eyes. 

° 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ₒ 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 °

He had immediately sweet talked the Beta receptionist into handing over your file. He had tucked it under his arm and taken it to his room, locking the door and glancing around like he was a teen with a raunchy magazine. Read it front to back. You were smart, specialized in cybersecurity before you joined the military. Now you drifted from team to team, going where you were needed. Helping run covert hops here, a little hacking there. He felt a grin take over his face when he saw that in your last assignment, you acted as a demolition expert. An impressive resume, he faintly wondered why you hadn’t been pinned down by a team yet. Clearly, you were an asset. 

He got to your current contract papers, seeing you were brought on to be a floater. You’d help with missions in the unit how they saw fit. He could only pray that he’d be working with you eventually. He closes the file, thumbing the small file photo of you. You were beautiful no doubt, not smiling but still holding a hint of softness. 

He pauses when he realizes he didn’t see a presentation in your file. He flips through the pages again, skimming through your medical report. The boxes next to ‘Omega’, ‘Alpha’, and ‘Beta’ are all unmarked. It clicks then, your sweet smell and the lack of presentation in your files. You were an Omega. 

Soap wasn’t really supposed to be where he was as an Omega. While there were no rules against it, there were hardly any Omegas here for a reason. It was hard, both physically and mentally. Soap had taken twice the recommended amount of suppressants and nearly went broke buying scent blockers. Put his body through hell and back to prove he was worthy. It was only when he became Lieutenant and had the protection of a pack that he felt comfortable enough to stop hiding his presentation . By then, no one could really say anything about it. 

His heart raced. You were an Omega. He had no proof other than being one himself, but he was almost sure of it. It did nothing to curb his growing curiosity. 

He should have pushed you out of his mind, but he’s Soap. He’s insistent and can be downright stubborn when it comes down to it. It was just his nature. He formulated a whole plan, get close to you, slowly ease you into meeting his pack, then make you theirs. Plain and simple. 

It was not plain and simple. 

First of all, the guilt started eating at him. He had everything he’d ever hoped for, a family, a successful career, and here he was. The worst part is that Soap couldn’t help it, he loved his mates, their masculine presence and smell that filled a room. But he secretly can’t help but wish there was another Omega around, someone who could help him ground his Alphas. Gaz did a great job, but he was a beta, and Soap often received the brunt end of Ghost and Prices’ more baser instincts. Not just an Omega, but a woman. Someone with that femininity and power that balances and soothes an entire pack into submission. 

Second of all, you didn’t want to give him the time of day. 

The first time he approaches you is in the dining hall, your face stoic and focused as you grab an apple and place it on your tray. He takes a few breaths, your muted and yet somehow still overwhelming scent filling his senses. 

“New around here bonnie?” He finally gets the courage up to speak.  “Names Johnny, but people call me Soap.” He reaches a hand out. 

You take it hesitantly, and he revels in the softness. He tries not to get distracted by the way his hand almost completely covers your own. 

“Y/n.” you respond curtly, releasing his hand and grabbing your tray.  “Transferred a week ago.” You don’t wait for his response, making your way over to one of the many tables littered with people chatting. Soap hastily grabs a banana and his tray, taking long strides to catch up with you. 

“So uh, how you likin’ it so far?” He flinches at his own stutter. God, he’s out of practice. 

You give him a pointed look. 

“S’fine.” You sit, hastily picking up your spoon and taking a bite of oatmeal. It doesn’t deter Soap. 

He spends the next 30 minutes talking your ear off, receiving the occasional nod or “mhm” from you. You give up very little about yourself, answering shortly and precisely. It drives him mad. 

You cut off his rant on the latest recruits, standing abruptly. “It was nice talking with you Lieutenant MacTavish, but I have to get going.” 

He watches as you leave, stunned and frankly a little turned on at how easily you brushed him off. Soap was a sucker for a chase. 

He faintly realizes that you knew his rank and last name, and has a feeling that you’re a careful and intelligent woman. It only fuels his growing suspicion of your presentation. 

° 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ₒ 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 °

Soap keeps trying after that, despite the gnawing feeling of guilt and greediness. The less you give him, the more enraptured he becomes. With every eye roll and silent stretch you give him, he falls deeper and deeper into the need to make you his. 

It only takes a couple months for it all to come to a head. Soap finds you in a hallway late at night, most people tucked away in their quarters. Your scent is slightly off, soured and citrusy. He loves it. 

“Where are you stormin’ off to?” 

You don’t answer, which is not unusual, but the way you push past him without so much of a glance, is. “Aye, c’mon love, what’s got you so worked up?” 

You turn on your heel, almost crashing into Soap. You didn’t hate him, sometimes you even welcomed the company, even though his jokes were shit. Not that you’d let him know you even remotely liked his presence. You stare him down for a second, teeth gritted. 

You had just overheard some particularly nasty and sexist comments about you, not the first time- hell not even the fiftieth time. But it never stung less, that people refused to see your experience and rank simply because you had the misfortune of being born a woman. You regret the words almost as soon as you say them. 

“Leave me the fuck alone, MacTavish. I’m not interested in your company, and I sure as shit didn’t ask for it. Go bother your pack, and leave me alone.” You spit the word at him, and you’re not sure why. Maybe it’s a reflection of your own loneliness deep down. You can’t stand the shock on his face, so you turn around and sulk to the kitchen to find a sweet treat to placate you. 

Soap watches as you leave, and he’s hurt. How can you not see how perfect you’d be for the pack? Granted, he’s the only one that knows, he still has no idea how to broach the topic with his pack. Would they hate him? Call him selfish, wonder why they weren’t enough for him? His fists clench at his sides as your scent completely fades. 

Then it clicks. He doesn’t know why he hadn’t thought of it before. He smiles to himself, no longer upset at your blatant rejection. He almost skips back to his room. 

He has it all figured out. 

° 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 ₒ 𐐪𐑂 ♡ 𐐪𐑂 °

The next morning he flirts with some nurses, brings them donuts from the place off base. While they’re all distracted and giggling amongst each other, he quietly slips into the record room and grabs your files. His heart beats out of his chest at the little checkmark next to “Omega”. 

He knew it. He flips through the files quickly, finding a detailed page tracking your heat cycles. You haven’t had a heat in years, seeing a note that says you denied a doctor's request to go into heat at least once every 3 years. He knew that pain, he couldn’t imagine you putting yourself through that. You shouldn't be putting yourself through that. He’ll make sure that you don’t have to anymore. 

He flips a few more pages, going back to when you did have your heats. He finds an entry that notes that you had unusually long and painful heats, along with a prescription of sedatives. The next line states that you usually have them every 3 months, February, May, August and sometimes December. He hears his heartbeat in his ears when he realizes his luck of it being the beginning of December. It was meant to be. 

He closes the file quietly, closing his eyes in relief. You’d be his, and his pack’s, soon. 

That night, while you’re showering in the gym, Soap is breaking into your room. It doesn’t take much effort, he’s in within minutes, stepping into your sacred space. There’s a half assed nest in the corner of your room, your instincts must be strong if you’re still nesting while taking suppressants. He wants to go over and fluff it for you, add his scent covered shirt to the pitiful pile. He shakes his head. He needs to focus on why he’s here. 

He rifles through your cabinets, desperately searching. He knows you like long showers, but he’s still on edge. If he gets caught, it’s all over. He tries to be quick without disturbing the placement of your items, but he begins to panic when he can’t find those familiar little pills. He rushes to your bed, looking underneath. He’s about to lose hope when he moves from underneath your bed, cursing when he knocks his head on the frame. 

He almost doesn’t hear it. The soft thud of something falling. He looks back under the bed, eyes falling on a tiny box meant for jewelry. He grabs it, slowly opening it and removing the piece of foam on top. 

Bingo. 

He stares at the tiny pills, the familiar pale blue a contrast against the black of the box. He spills a few in his hand. There were enough for months. You were like he was, handing your health over in exchange for surviving here. His fist closes over pills as he makes his way out of your room. He locks your door behind him, trying not to run to his room. When he makes it there, he’s buzzing with excitement. He goes to his bathroom, opening the toilet lid and fishing the box from his pocket. He doesn’t hesitate in throwing them all into the bowl, and watching as the water swirls when he flushes. The water settles, and your pills are gone. 

Omega’s are the most sensitive of the three presentations. Senses more in tune than even the best Alpha. It was in their very biology to be strong in ways Alpha’s were not, to hold a pack together. Your biology would work quickly, work through the artificial hormones you’d been poisoning yourself with in haste. It happened to him, after so long of suppressing his Omega, it came back with a vengeance. You would be no different. 

And with Price’s rut- and Ghost’s, coming up soon, they won’t stand a chance against the strong smell of an Omega in heat. He’ll make sure that they find you, that they take care of you. 

It was all part of his plan, after all.

[cas-backwards-tie]

Chapter One: News Crashing

Poly!TaskForce 141 x Omega!Reader

The Omega Pack Plan Masterlist

Summary: A change in procedure around base causes you to spiral as your world comes crashing down. There's only one way out of this and it starts with telling the truth.

Words: 4.4k

Warnings: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Anxiety, Existentialism, Misogyny, Dismissive Attitudes, Angst, Rage

Mentions of: Medication,

A/N: Honestly, I'd been inspired by a few series (Standard Emergency Protocol and Pantry Solutions) I've read those and it caused me to want to write my own ABO COD AU, so I started this as a sort of funny fic awhile ago. I'm haven't entirely plotted out the whole story, but I have some ideas for the first few chapters. I was finally inspired to finish and post it because @cringeycookies liked the snippet I posted in a wip tag game. So thanks to everyone who inspired me, and a special thank you to @penelopepine for helping me with the dialogue and Price's reaction as I try to begin writing for them.

"I'm sorry, Ma'am," the nurse responds, "we're no longer authorized to refill suppressants of any kinds for any purpose." With a push of the empty orange pill bottle back across the counter in your direction, she offers you an ugly forced smile.

"Is there really nothing we can do?!" You complain incredulously, "Nothing at all? What am I supposed to do with this?!" Taking the emptied bottle into your hands, you stare at the nurse with widened eyes and a wild look.

"There is no 'we'..." she rolls her eyes in response, focus returning to the papers before her. "But if you insist, you can always bring it up with your CO, or the Base Commander." She scribbles something out on the page, but you can hardly focus when your world is virtually crumbling apart around you. "Now if you don't mind, some of us actually have work to do around here."

Still stunned, you can't help the way your breathing picks up as your heart begins to race. About a month ago now there was a base-wide meeting where they'd finally cracked down and implemented a new program the government is trying out: OPP. The Omega Pack Plan. While it's uncommon for Omegas to even be recruited into the military to begin with, such a thing does exist. Regardless, the Base Commander gathered everyone in the Auditorium for a presentation to talk about the new program and how the army would implement it into the troops. Luckily, considering you're on an elite Task Force, it doesn't apply to you. At least... it didn't.

"What the hell is this?!" You yell, tossing the orange bottle in his direction.

He'd heard the stomps all the way down the hall and smelled you coming, so he's neither surprised by your appearance, nor startled by the toss of the bottle. John swiftly catches it in his hand as he looks up at you. "What?" He inquires, finally glancing down to examine what he's caught. "A pill bottle?"

"Captain, it's empty! They won't refill it- I can-"

A groan tumbles past his lips as he drags a hand down his beard. "Look, Panther-" referring to you by your callsign, interesting move. "There's nothing I can do, it's over my head now. I wish I could do something, but I can't." Sitting back in his leather chair, Price places the bottle on the desk; a faint rap of the plastic hitting the wood is the only sound between you momentarily before you hurriedly shut the door.

Panic begins to flood your system as you're not sure how to handle this. It's your turn to freak out. You know how this goes, you know the story now; ever since they'd implemented and dispersed the Omegas into the troops, they'd started implementing them into the Task Forces, and now they have to do so with the One Four One. Fingers curling in and out of shapes as you try to process your next move, you speak before you can even begin to plan what you're going to tell him.

"I- I'm- I..." You're pacing his office now, the heavy gaze of your Captain upon you as you try to prevent yourself from hyperventilating. The thing is, you're usually good with pressure- really good. It's your job to be good. It's just... this is different. This is your life, your livelihood at stake, the livelihood of all your future generations to come.

A sigh resounds throughout the office before you hear the low timbre of his voice. "Dove," he calls out with a gentle tone, "I want you to take a deep breath for me. Alright?" With the calm and even sound of your Captain's voice and the assured look on his face, you comply. Exhaling the last of your breath, you close your eyes and focus in on the deep intake of air through your nose. With the parting of your lips you slowly release it before giving yourself a moment.

When you open your eyes he gestures to the seat before his desk, though you know he won't take offense if you decline. Hesitant, one hand finds its way to the other, wrapping around your arm as you listen to him speak. "Now, can you explain what has you in this state? I assure you that there's nothing that can't be dealt with." You want to trust him, you know him--John Price--your Captain. He's always had your back, always made sure you felt comfortable in the Taskforce, always made an effort to check on you after things got rough.

You nod. Licking your lips, you search his blue eyes as you tentatively take the seat across him.

"Whatever it is, we'll deal with it, alright? I can guarantee you that unless you're trying to tell me you're an Omega, nothing you say is going to shock me that warrants the amount of panic you're putting yourself through," Price chuckles. He's obviously joking, trying to break the tension with humor. Lips drawn upward into a small smile, the Captain stares at you expectantly.

"What if I am?" You whisper, eyes unable to tear from his visage as you try and gauge his reaction. Unexpectedly, silence fills the space between you and feels deafening in the small space. The growing comfort of his office these couple of months now feels like a cage you're forced to stay in, under watch, as you stare down your superior on the brink of a battle to the death. And that's what you do. His blue eyes bore into yours, skeptically shifting between your left and right as he seems to try and get a read on you.

All of the sudden you jump at the smack of his hands hitting the desk in front of him. He laughs at you.

He's laughing at you.

And you're sitting there with your guts spilled out, dread eating away at the pit in your stomach... and he's laughing. It feels like forever is passing you by as you stare at him in shock, this moment between the two of you frozen in time as nothing else persists.

"I understand what this was now," Price explains, still chuckling to himself as he shakes his head. There's a warm smile on his face that feels eerie considering the dire context of the situation at hand. "You got me! I fully believed you for a second there, too."

Eyebrows furrowing in dark realization, you can't help but stare at him wildly. "Wha-" You begin to question him and his line of thinking, but he cuts you off.

"This was all a prank, right? The bottle, the hysterics- you really outdid yourself, Sergeant." Leaning back in his chair, he props his ankle up on his other knee. "Because let me tell you, this was good. Better than anything Soap's cooked up in awhile. Did you come up with it yourself?" There's a cheeky grin on his lips. "Ah, I know you did."

Lips opening and closing like a fish out of water, you sit in the armchair across from him pale with a dazed look across your face. He doesn't actually think that this was...

"Well, with your little triumph in your pocket, I say we get back to work, yeah? I've got some new leads from MI6 that've just popped in." With that, the man stands from his desk and rounds it. "Garrick should be back around Tea. I'll see you in the Command Station then," he informs you. It's then that he passes by, a genial clap on your shoulder while he's at it.

Left stunned in silence, you can't help but grit your teeth, consequentially pronouncing your jaw as anger ebbs through your bloodstream. Breath getting heavier, you can't help but loathe the meeting tonight. Your Captain might be satisfied with the conversation, but all you feel is discouraged. He's abandoned you, left you alone in his office with a humiliating sense of betrayal and shattered trust. Almost like you hadn't just told him your biggest secret at all.

Punching the standard heavy punching bag hanging in front of you, you grunt, ignoring the pain that gnaws at your knuckles underneath the reusable hand wraps. Sweat builds on your brow as you continue to unleash your pent up anger on the gym’s equipment. How could he?! When had you ever pulled anything even similar to this? Never! And the fact that you’ve only been on the team for a handful of months only exacerbates the abandonment you’re feeling right now. He’s your Captain! Regardless of your feelings or the situation at hand, isn’t he supposed to be there for you? He’d promised from the get go to help you with whatever you need, and now the one time you go to him for aid it backfires in your face and leaves you without any sort of solution going forward aside from straight up telling the whole team the flat out truth, and God forbid! You can’t even begin to fathom how that’d go.

A pent up and frustrated yell almost akin to something of a growl emanates from you as you tear into another round of swift jabs and punches. Regardless of the situation at hand, you’ve been trying to build up your upper body’s strength and letting out the anger you’d accumulated over this morning’s events seemed like a perfect opportunity to let loose.

The stretches and treadmill routine didn’t take a lot out of you, but the weights, and now the punching bag definitely is starting to take its toll. Sweat beads at your forehead in rivulets that drip down the sides of your neck, down your scalp past your neck and between your shoulder blades. Tank top soaked in sweat, you breathe hard as your heart pumps rapidly in your chest. You would’ve wound up here at some point or another tonight, but the Captain’s discourteous response certainly led to an earlier workout time.

While others sparsely litter the gym’s floor, you pay them no mind and vice versa. It’s not uncommon for soldiers to be found blowing off steam or aiming to beat their highest reps on the weights. Yet, this gym is reserved for higher standing members of the Force, the gym on the far side of the base where there are less people, offices, and considering the regular army men train in the bigger gym closer to their quarters, it’s mostly other higher ranked officers in here.

“Captain’s lookin’ for ya,” Markowski, another Sergeant that you’d come to befriend on base announces from the doorway, having poked his head in after leaving a few minutes earlier. He belongs to a different Task Force.

A groan tumbles out of you as you realize it’s already that time. Just as the door clicks shut, your phone chimes loudly with the alarm you’d set earlier going off. A few quick swipes of your fingers, you turn the alarm off and unlock the device, seeing a number of messages flood your notifications.

Kyle: You hear they’ve bumped up the timeline? 😯

Johnny: “ https://Tiktok/Shattered.Rat567 ” Had me rollin’ 🤣👏🏻 Gotta check it, Bonnie

Simon: You coming to the meeting or not? 🤨

Johnny: Where r u? You’re usually first here 👀 Cap’s getting peeved, watch out

Not looking forward to the inevitable mess of a meeting before you, you don’t bother rushing to join the men. With a wash of your face in the women’s locker room, a speedy bathroom break, and a grab of the items you’d brought with you, you’re heading for the Command Station.

With the time Price set the meeting, you won't get to eat dinner till afterward. You'd be lying if you said you weren't annoyed by this entire situation, your agitation from neglecting your hunger earlier has certainly come to bite you in the backside.

While you don’t have time to respond to their texts, having set the alarm with only enough time to get back to your team’s Command ‘station’ albeit more like your headquarters before heading out. Speed-walking through the orderly halls with a haste perfectly common around here, you navigate with a well practiced knowledge. Though you’ve only been here coming up on six months soon, you’re well acquainted with this part of the base.

Rounding the corner, you’re in the hall, close. Yet, the worry of being late lingers in the back of your mind and adds another layer of annoyance on top of your residual anger buried deep down from this morning’s situation. You’d inevitably come up with your solution. It’s not one you like… but it’s the only logical option. Another turn and you’re striding into the big garage-like room.

“Nice of you to finally join us, Sergeant,” Price calls out to you. Lifting his eyes from the map laid out across your station's table, he glares in your direction.

“What took you so long?” Soap snaps, his brows slightly furrowed as he stares at you from the opposite side of the table, hands lazily wrapped around his vest’s straps.

A look at your watch tells you that you’re not even late, the meeting doesn’t officially start for another minute! But you are usually waiting on them. He’s got you there.

“Yeah, you’re usually the first one here. It’s not like you,” Gaz whispers under his breath as you sidle up alongside Ghost, Gaz standing diagonal to you right beside Price at the head of the table.

“Focus,” Ghost orders the men, his hands tucked in his hoodie’s pocket. You don’t fail to notice the way he subtly takes a step further away from you as soon as they start talking again. Price goes back to talking plans as Gaz is questioning the circumstances of the information the Captain had acquired earlier when he’d had to leave the office.

“Which is exactly why-”

A heavy exhale on your behalf leaves the men frozen as their eyes drift back to you. “Do you have something you’d like to say, Panther?” The Captain questions. Jaw clenched, you tear your eyes from the map they’d settled on.

“We’ve got a big problem,” you announce, cutting off the Captain as you finally raise your gaze to meet Price’s slightly widened blue eyes.

“Well, if you see something that needs changin’ then let’s hear it,” he responds. A ‘hmph’ follows as he crosses his arms over his chest and sits his weight back onto his heels.

“It’s not about the op,” you correct him. Tilting your head side to side you attempt to crack the kinks in your neck while standing a little straighter to appear more engaged and serious.

“And it’s more important than this? What we’re doin’ right now?” Soap questions, his hands dropping to rest on the table as he looms over it, eyeing you with frustration obvious in his irises.

“What is it?” Gaz asks, a quirk of his eyebrow garnering your attention for a split-second. He’s genuinely asking, and there doesn’t seem to be a hostility in his scent as he turns his attention to you. Then there’s Ghost, who you don’t even need to look at to feel his heavy gaze on you, waiting expectantly.

“Actually, it is,” you argue with Soap, anger beginning to boil in your belly, the frustration and angst having been left to simmer all afternoon. “I can’t believe you didn’t take me seriously when I came to you earlier,” you turn your anger on Price. He looks taken aback by the outburst, something you’re not known for.

“Dove,” he calls calmly, hands out in an attempt to pacify.

“Don’t-” you bark, starting to raise your voice without realizing it. “I came to you in confidance! Trusting you when you said you’d be there to help me if I ever needed it! How could you?” Gritting your teeth, you don’t realize how hard you’re breathing as your chest heaves with anger.

“Woah, woah-” Gaz sputters, “What-” holding his hands out to try and diffuse the argument.

“I let myself be vulnerable-” You continue to shout.

“Isn’t this something that shoul-” Soap attempts to dissuade, backing down as he puts his hands out.

“-and tell you the truth, and-” you’re lunging for him across the table. You’re held back by a massive hand on your shoulder. “You laugh in my face?! What the fuck is wrong with you?”

You're suddenly pulled back, off your feet, and shoved into a metal chair that'd been nearby. Your Lieutenant is hovering over you, his cold eyes now tinged with a spark of anger as they bore into you scrutinizingly. There's the sound of commotion behind him, multiple voices overlapping, yet you can't see anything with that utter giant in front of you!

“Does anyone wanna explain what the bloody hell is goin’ on here?” Ghost snaps. It's only then when the man steps aside that you can see where everyone is. With both of you in your respective corners, you simply glare at the Captain from over your crossed arms out in front of you.

“Are you bleedin’ kidding me, ya Scally?” Price grunts as he shrugs Gaz’ hand off his shoulder. “You’re still on about it! When w-"

"That doesn't explain what happened, Cap," Gaz interrupts, stopping him from going off and getting them nowhere.

He groans, running a hand over his face once more before composing himself. Everyone waits for an explanation—you too—he’d been the first to speak, and you’re curious to hear what he comes up with. “She came into my office, bloody cryin’, tossing me a pill bottle, muttering about, saying she’s a-”

You don’t dare let him finish, not wanting him to be the one to finally say it, exposing your truth to the team. "Omega. I’m an Omega, ” you finish his sentence. While you’re scared to meet their faces, you take a deep breath and force yourself to do so.

"Christ," Price curses, fingers coming up to pinch the skin between his brows as he hangs his head.

Ghost's stoicism is nothing unordinary, and in fact, is somewhat a comfort considering you'd expected nothing less from him.

Gaz looks stunned for a moment, eyes flitting about the other’s faces before the serious look on his face morphs. Lips slowly drawing upward, you shouldn’t be surprised when he starts laughing. "Yeah right," Garrick teases, "and I'm actually the Prime Minister."

Yet, it's not just him. The uproarious laughter from your right only adds fuel to the already burning flame as the two other Sergeants laugh like idiots. All as if it's some poor joke with no consequences to anyone's life, and yet... it's the truth. At the end of the day, it doesn't change anything. At the end of the day, your life is still in jeopardy and they're treating it like some joke. Unable to form any sort of retort, you simply blink; stuck in a stupor raw, stung, and with a dumb look on your face.

Soap, rounding the table slaps Gaz on the back, his face flushed red from laughing so hard. "Yer makin' my stomach hurt. God," he eggs the other on between his dying chuckles and attempting to catch his breath.

"You're really just gonna stand there and laugh?!" You finally burst. Anger surely must be coming off your scent in waves, but you don't care. Standing from the chair, you don't flinch as Ghost swipes his arm out in front of you in case you were going for the Captain again. There will be no physical altercation on his watch.

"She already pulled this on me earlier, mind you, and now what? You're trying to pull it over on the lads' too, eh?" Price goads you.

"And I was telling the truth! You're the one who said I was joking," you point out. The volume of your voice is lost on you, partially blinded by the fury bleeding out.

"I suppose you never did admit to it being a prank," Price reasons, fingers grazing his beard as he runs them over it repeatedly in thought. "But how do you expect us to believe that when you clearly smell of a Beta?"

"Even on the battlefield, after everything we've been through-" Gaz starts.

"After yer all sweaty from a workout, too. I think we'd notice, Pan," Johnny argues, illuminating a legitimate point of consideration.

"Oh please," you mutter quietly to yourself. Shaking your head, you can't believe they're really all being this daft right now. "Like you have heard of those Scent Spritzers.”

There are various perfumes on the market specifically designed to alter one’s scent. Most use it smell like an Alpha when they’re not, or an Omega when they’re wanting to seduce an Alpha when going out. But Omegas posing as Betas was rarely heard of. You’re more than sure it happens more frequently than people know of, they just haven’t been caught. And in your line of work? It’s scarce. People are thoroughly vetted, but… you’d been on suppressants for a long, long time. And a Beta perfume only perfected your hiding.

“Did you forget we’re Alphas, love? We’d be able to smell you across the room if you were,” Gaz taunts. There’s a puff of his chest that makes his cockiness even more annoying than usual.

"You really want to be an Omega? Dumb yourself down to some weak fragile thing?” Johnny jokes, nudging Gaz’ arm as he shakes his head.

“A doll who can get whoever she wants? Want to be nothing more than good for knockin' up and popping out pups?” Gaz adds on.

“Are you serious right now?” You test, seething under your skin as your hands ball up into fists. “How could you say that?!”

“It’s what people say,” Ghost comments.

“Nobody would want that and you’re out here lying about it,” Johnny pokes.

“We’re only trying to point out the flaws in your little rouse, Pan,” Gaz says, a smile lighting up his features as he crosses his arms over his chest.

"And what if I was lying, hm? Would that change anything you just said to me? How you feel about Omegas?" You scoff.

“This isn’t about your designation,” Price finally speaks. Fingers still weaved into his beard, his blue eyes lift to meet yours. “I see what this is about now, but there's nothin' to worry about, Dove.” Your Captain takes on a softer tone and all of the sudden you feel yourself start to get emotional as a twinge of sadness, of the hurt bleeding through upon understanding makes you feel seen.

“I know it's intimidating, the thought of having your first unmedicated heat, but we have medics here. It's natural. Heats, ruts, we all have them. And, hey... at least you're not an Omega, right?" Whatever relief you’d momentarily experienced sinks back down in your gut with the speed of a rollercoaster drop. It’s as silent as a stakeout, the only sound being people’s breathing. And the lack of yours.

It takes a moment to gather yourself, everyone’s eyes on you with the serious topic change. While sex and the downsides to a designation are something discussed with the boys, you’d often been left out. And to your comfort. "You know what? I can’t do this,” you retort. Backing from the group, you toss your hands up. “I guess you'll just have to wait and see," you bite back. With a whip of your hair over your shoulder, you head for the door.

The room is silent once more as everyone gawks. You’d never reacted in such a manner, had an outburst like that… this is… certainly different, and something they’re not at all used to.

“It’s because they took away her suppressants today,” Price explains. It might not have been something the group should be privileged to know. A private matter, really… but with the way you acted? He felt the men deserve an explanation, at least.

“That makes sense,” Gaz responds quietly, eyes still on the door you’d gone through.

“That’s no excuse,” Johnny counters, arms crossing over his chest with a scowl on his lips.

"Well... that went better than I thought,” Ghost comments with a shrug. “Back to the plan? We can fill her in later.”

[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.”

[waves-against-a-cliff]

After the end - Post-apocalypse Omegaverse AU

Summary - The first shot is fired. While you come up with a plan to confuse and bait these four alphas, they come up with their own strategy.

Tags - Omegaverse (duh), alpha/beta/omega dynamics, non traditional dynamics, all of the 141 are alphas, you're an omega. Eventual smut, dub-con, knotting, mating press, polyamory, alphas love alphas. 141 x reader. Omega has a shotgun, I REPEAT, Omega has a shotgun. Mentions of violence.

Prologue Chapter 1 Chapter 2

You looked at the four men with wide eyes and they stared back at you with equally wide ones as well. Your finger moved to the trigger of the shotgun and the one with a scraggly mohawk stepped forward. You growled without even meaning to and he hesitated. "Come on Bonnie, drop tae shotgun," he tried to negotiate but you snarled at him.

"Get the fuck out of my woods," you replied, snarling so hard spit flies from your mouth. You pointed the shotgun at the four of them but mostly focused on the Scottish brute in front of you, "Or I'll kill you."

A nasty smile crossed his face, feral and unnatural. "Oh ye wouldnae. You're just a little omega," he cooed and you pulled the trigger. The kick is a little more than you expected and you're pushed flat on your back from the kick. You the blast heard echo through the woods and your ears are ringing. Behind the ringing you hear curses and you looked to see the Scottish alpha on the ground clutching his shoulder with a dark look in his eyes.

His three other alpha packmates gathered around him, fretting over his wound and so you took the chance to get onto your feet and get away. "She's gettin' away!" You heard another shout and then more curses. You assumed that one fell into the hole you had covered up. You hoped he enjoys the wooden spikes.

You huffed and puffed after a while, your breathing fogging the air around you. The winter chill had made your nose hurt and your fingers were stiff. You rubbed them together to try and gather some heat in them. You shakily reloaded the shotgun, putting the spent shotgun shell into your pocket.

You don't need anymore tracks leading them to you.

You can't help but wonder how they figured it out. How they knew someone was still lingering around this long forgotten small town. You racked your brain for the answer as you kept walking, snow crunching under your well worn boots.

You thought back to a few days ago, the last time you had been in for resupply. You had noticed one of your traps had been triggered. The false floor in a building had collapsed underneath the weight of someone. You checked it and found a very big, unnaturally big, beta. He was already dead, he was wearing a T-shirt as a mask of all things. It had taken a lot of effort to get him from the pit, you'd had to grab your old jeep, rarely used except for times like these when you needed to haul something big.

In this case, a tall T-shirt mask wearing beta.

You had cut yourself on a shard of glass picking him up and loading him into the back. You hadn't even thought about it when you wiped your hand on the wooden pole. "Fucking stupid," you whispered to yourself. Carelessness.

After all this time it was carelessness that had gotten you at last.

Then it gave you an idea. If they were able to track your scent using blood...

You grabbed your pocket knife and looked at it, the idea of the perfect trap starting in your mind.

"Fuckin' bitch," Soap hissed from between clenched teeth. The shotgun blast had barely grazed his shoulder but it still hurt like a massive bitch. "She actually shot tae damn thing."

Gaz scoffed as he wrapped his mild puncture wound, the wooden stakes at the bottom not sharpened enough to do any real damage. "That's what you get for provoking," he replied as he stood up.

"I was not provoking!" Soap said and Gaz rolled his eyes.

"Shut it you two," Price finally snapped as he pinched the bridge of his nose using his index and thumb. Gaz had been right, there was an omega running around in this forest still. The issue was now that not only did she know that they were here but that she had known before hand.

"How's Soaps shoulder?" Price asked Ghost, who had a stronger bond with Soap. It was natural. Price was more bonded with Gaz and he could feel his inner alpha snarling and pacing that he was hurt.

"It'll be fine. Luckily the shot mostly missed," Ghost replied gruffly. Price turned to his pack and looked over them.

"What do you think Ghost?"

"I think she has more 'f these traps laid out through the forest," he replied, his shoulders tensed at the idea of having to navigate an entirely booby trapped forest.

"Did you hear what she said?" Gaz asked and Price raised a brow.

"Yes Kyle, what of it?"

"She referred to this place as her woods."

"What of it?" Soap snapped and Gaz glared at his fellow sergeant.

"This is her territory," Gaz finally finished and everyone gave him a skeptical look.

"Omegas don't have territory," Soap responded, "they aren't built like that."

Gaz rolled his eyes. Out of everyone within the pack, Gaz might be the most versed on how omegas operated with Ghost not far behind him. "Even if this is her territory," Price said and even he sounded skeptical, "there's still an easy solution."

Ghost looked at his captain, his stomach churned at what he was about to say. He knew what he would say. They could scruff her.

"We just have to get close." Price said and Soap huffed out a laugh.

"Damn thing is fuckin' feral. We aren't gettin' through these woods without a few more scratches."

"So you're willin' to give up a ripe omega?" Gaz challenged and Soap shook his head.

"I didnae say that."

[lostintransist]

Broken Beyond Bearing

-… . - .- … / -… . .. -. —. / -… ..- - -.-. …. . .-. . -..

@beloveds-embrace I hope I did this idea a bit of justice so far. Inspired by the delcious idea from beloveds found here.

CW: references to medical procedures that were not agreed to, reader is dying, A/B/O, odd dynamics, babies first time writing A/B/O.

A/N: I am really new to A/B/O so if something feels off or if you want more of this idea LMK!

Kate told you that the CIA still used Morse code in the field sometimes. It had fallen out of fashion after World War II and the alphabet soup of government agencies liked to reuse what they could. She said it worked best for short messages and when speaking could alert enemies. She talked at you nonstop on the long drive from the hospital. You wondered if the silence would bite at her toes or if the drone of the engine would keep it at bay.

She found you in the waiting room. Back straight, head upright you stare out the window across from you. If you ignore her maybe she will leave you alone like everyone else. You had been freed from a facility when some government agency or another busted them for performing illegal experiments on betas. Everyone else had a family to return to.

You weren’t everyone.

“I have a friend at this hospital. He called me when he saw that you had yet to be released,” she uses a soft voice as if the mint green and oddly shaped couches were pews instead. Pews don’t creak like plastic when you shift your weight. “My name is Kate. My friend, Ty, is an administrator here. He mentioned you needed someone to sign for you due to your beta status and the lack of documentation on your identity.”

Silence had been your only weapon against the staff there and the staff here.

She smells of alpha, the heady scent that should reek of safety and confidence. It tastes sour in the back of your throat.

“I’ve read through the information about you from Scorpio, the changes they made to you? They don’t expect you to make it another five years.” Kate rubbed her hands down the top of her slacks. “I’m here to give you an offer.”

Glancing at her without turning your head you wait. When she meets your side eye you shift your gaze back to the distant fluffy clouds dotting the sky like sheep grazing through a meadow. The sky sheep look all the whiter for the blanket of snow smothering the earth below.

“I know of a group of men, even split between them alpha and omega, who could use someone to care for. They are gone for long stretches of time and won’t pressure you for anything, only to care for you and use you as a touchstone of normalcy,” Kate lets out a breath, the shifting air bringing more of her should be comforting scent to your nose.

Voices drift past the locked doors to your right. You had posted up on the maternity floor, the staff had yet to find you here the last few times you were able to avoid their gazes.

“Why me?” Your voice whispers out. Should have grabbed the water mug the night nurse had left on your tray before you ducked from the room.

“Well, that’s the sticking point. They don’t know you would be coming. The guys have started to fray at the edges, getting reckless on jobs. I need them to be safe. If they have someone to come home to?”

Ah, so this wasn’t about you. Couldn’t ever be about you could it? No. Always a beta, never important.

Scorpio had seen six hundred seventeen betas through their doors before you quit counting. Not one of them left through the front door.

“You can’t tell them I’m dying.”

Control had to be a resource you doled out sparingly.

“Done.”

“And I get my own bed.”

The wrinkles around her face deepen as Kate settles on an unsure look.

“I’m not sure…”

“I will spend time in their nest when invited but I get my own bed,” you look at her now, face to face.

She must see something unmovable in your expression.

Sighing, her eyes drift shut and her shoulders relax.

“I will make it happen.”

Nodding once you stand.

“Lead on Kate, let us meet my doom head-on.”

Kate chooses not to comment on your morose declaration.

Maybe that is why she filled the car with her voice? She must not appreciate your brand of deadly honesty.

Her voice drifts away as she turns off the well-maintained and snow-cleared highway for a clear spot marked only by the tire tracks that lead between the dense trees.

“I’ve told them so many damn times they need to move closer but no it’s all ‘Kate you don’t understand we need the space from everyone’ and never thinking of how hard it is for people to visit them,” she mutters to herself as the color leeches from her knuckles with each slip of the tires.

“Maybe they don’t want visitors.”

Kate’s brows pull down as she glares out the windshield.

Looking back out the window you catch sight of a massive moose between the trunks before it disappears into the trees. It takes another twenty minutes of achingly slow driving before Kate finally relaxes her shoulders.

The smell of satisfaction drifts through the car heater. Turning you find a modestly large cabin, a green metal slanted roof, and a porch that reaches from one corner of the house to the other. Next to the stairs that connected the porch to the ground are two vehicles, one SUV and one large truck, though these both sit neatly under the porch. Kate parks in the open.

Without hesitation she climbs from the driver’s seat, grabbing the backpack she picked up for you with your three changes of clothes and two sets for sleeping. Kate is halfway up the stairs when you finally join her. Snow clings to the canvas of your shoes even as you follow in the large boot prints she left behind for you.

Tucking your arms close to your chest you stand behind Kate as she pounds with a fist on the door. The swish of her coat is the loudest sound beyond her beating for entry. You are fighting to keep your teeth from chattering when the door finally opens. You didn’t know cold had a smell. The only word you could find for it? Sharp.

“John. Took you long enough,” Kate pushes her way through the opening in the door.

A burly man steps back to allow her entrance. He is barely decent, his robe hanging open and tie only just covering his bits. John lifts a brow at you when you don’t immediately follow. You are not dressed for winter. When a particularly chilled bit of wind rushes past you and into the house, he moves to shut the door. Darting inside you watch him warily until you stand near Kate again. She stands in front of a massive couch. Counting the cushions, you give yourself the space to breathe. Twelve separate sitting spaces, three walls of a square, and still with room to walk behind and peer out the window that took up nearly the whole wall behind it.

“Not like you to show up without calling Kate. What is this about?” John steps around the snow you shed on his hardwood floor.

“I brought you a wife.”

They stare at each other for nearly thirty seconds. Your toes start to sting from the cold. The shoes on your feet squeak as you shift from foot to foot. Making the mistake of breathing too deeply you can taste the battle of wills between them. Kate’s shouldn’t be sour scent warred with John’s masculine, woodsy scent. He was an omega?

A long table is positioned opposite the kitchen, and central to it all is a wood-burning stove. The kitchen has an excess of cabinets. You start to count them to avoid what your nose is telling you.

“Why would I need a wife?” He finally asks.

You are also curious about the word choice. Betas weren’t terribly important in the grand scheme, born at a lower rate and died at a faster one. Populations didn’t need betas to survive, they, you, were mostly only good for keeping fights from escalating. With everyone receiving training in school anymore on how to address and deal with signs of rut/heat to avoid fights, death due to rut-related combat had reduced by over half. Betas were less important than ever. The other reduction in deaths had come from Scorpio.

Sarah had always been so proud to tell you about how you were contributing to keeping alphas from killing each other when she drew your blood or injected you with yet another unknown serum. The government had started to pump the barest amount of what Sarah called, calmers, into the water system. Said it was good for everyone, like fluoride.

“Serin, helicopter, Los Alamos, hospital visit. Would you like me to go on?” Kate said all those words as if they made any sort of sense.

John sucked in a deep breath through his nose. His eyes snapped to you.

“What are you?”

Kate steps in front of you. The slap of your hand to your scent gland runs parallel to her words. Sarah had done something to you, changed everything at a base level, including your scent.

“Beta, and a wife. Someone to care for, someone who needs you.”

His eyes are on you as sounds from deeper in the house reach your ears. Deep voices, a loud thump, then laughter. You look past John and see a set of stairs near the front door that leads to a second floor that only takes up part of the space from the vaulted ceiling.

“We don’t need anyone Kate-” he folds his arms across his hairy chest as Kate cuts him off.

“Should I ask them then? Call them down and see what they say?” She glares up at him, the height difference not making a difference even when her alpha to his omega should. You had only ever seen one dynamic, alpha ruling, all else managing to stay out of their way. That did not hold true here. They battled as equals.

John let his lung full of air go, a sigh of admission as his hands fell to his hips.

“No. We will take her.”

Kate nods once, settling your backpack on the couch before turning and giving your shoulder a squeeze.

When she turns back to John she gives him the final piece of information.

“She gets a room to herself. Doesn’t need to be much, but at least a place to retreat when everything becomes too much.”

He rolls his eyes but nods.

“Anything else Kate?” He asks drolly.

The glare she sends him is met with a smirk.

“I will check back in a week to see how everyone is settling.”

John walks her to the front door, opening it for Kate to step back into the startling brilliance of the sun twinkling off snow.

When the door clicks shut behind her John turns to you. His eyes drift from your feet upward until settling on your face.

“Hello, wife.”

Part 2 | Broken Masterlist | Masterlist

[lay-z]

🇸🇪 Day 15 – Domestic bliss

A continuation to ❄️ Day 7 – Make do, which means it's set in the same universe!

Synopsis: This year, you’re not stuck, but willingly spending Christmas in a cozy cottage in the beautiful wilderness of Sweden. 

Pairing: alpha!TF-141 x fem!omega!Reader 

Warnings/Info: NSFW, 18+ | Omegaverse; military!Reader; a/b/o dynamics; emotional support (dog) omega; established poly!relationship; claimed mates; typical alpha/omega behaviour; knotting; breeding; fluff/aftercare  

Word count: 2.6k

↳ back to 🎅🏼 Masterlist ☃️

Location: Öjarn, Northern Sweden

EST. remng. time until exfil: Undisclosed

When the brass decided to transfer you to another unit after a year of serving with the 141, Captain Price didn't hesitate, made the necessary arrangements and swiftly claimed you as his omega, along with the rest of his squad. 

That was roughly two months ago. 

Now, the Captain's inner alpha preens whenever he catches a glimpse of the four mating bite marks along the junctures of your pretty neck; two on each shoulder, slightly different sizes, but all equal and serious in their claim. All binding for a lifetime, too. 

In return, each one of your mates wears your unique bite mark proudly; dainty crescent scars adorning each of their necks. You'd claimed them all as your mates eagerly, no questions asked, but “Who goes first?”. 

The Captain did.  

Then Simon.  

And Kyle. 

Johnny. 

You've become their perfect pillow princess. The sweetest most beautiful, supportive and docile omega each of them could've ever dreamed of and wished for. You help them decompress and unwind, sleep better and keep the nightmares at bay with your soothing scent and gentle purrs. 

They’re completely enamoured with you; so much so that the urge to hide you away and keep you from danger is becoming increasingly difficult to suppress. That’s why the Captain decided to bring you all here on leave, wanting to spend this Christmas in a more appropriate and comfortable way than the last. 

They rented a pretty cottage in the woods, close to a gorgeous lake where a herd of reindeer roams, far away from civilization, with a nice fireplace, plenty of supplies and provisions to last for several weeks, and enough spaces to relax, lounge and bond. To breed. 

John’s chest rumbles with a deep purr at the thought. He’s been planning on breeding you with his boys, start easing you into being knotted more frequently even before your upcoming heat.

It’s enough to make his cock chuff in his pants as he watches you fool around and playfight with his younger packmates, his dear Sergeants. They like to get a bit rough with you, enjoying the way you growl at them and giggle in delight, but they’re always gentle enough to never hurt you, knowing fully well that their Captain and Ghost would rip them a new one if you’d so much as catch a bruise on your supple skin.  

You squeal when Johnny pins you to the fur carpet in front of the fireplace, straddling your hips while Kyle holds your wrists above your head to keep you from thrashing. The young alphas growl playfully at you, and John hides his smile as he takes a sip of his morning coffee, keeping his distance for now. 

“Now what?” You ask through a giddy smile, eyes sparkling with mirth as your gaze flickers between Johnny and Kyle.  

“Now... we claim our bonnie prize. Right, Garrick?” Johnny shoots Kyle a look, the formers eyes already darkened from diamond blue to navy, his cock hot and heavy in his pants. Kyle clicks his tongue with a nod and licks his lips, just as excited as his packmate. Their heady arousal thick in the air around the spacious living room while your saccharine scent slowly mixes with theirs, creating a perfect concoction of a natural aphrodisiac. 

Your skin flushes, heartrate picking up at their possessive behaviour. A year ago, you would’ve felt flustered, embarrassed at how turned on you get by simply playfighting with them, but you’ve long learned that it’s perfectly natural. They want you needy and desperate, and bold about it. 

“Want you both,” you keen while your cunt slicks up and throbs around nothing, “I want you to use me.” 

Both young alphas groan. Kyle squeezes your wrists before he reaches for the hem of your flimsy sweater to pull it off you. Johnny snarls and grinds his big bulge against your warm core, seeking friction as he keeps the weight off his bad knee. 

“Alright! That’s enough for now, lads. Give our sweet omega a break.” John barks commandingly, sauntering over to the throuple on the floor. “Make yourselves useful and go chop some wood outside. It’s going to be cold tonight.” 

Both Kyle and Johnny leave you be reluctantly, the latter more hesitantly than the former, but as the leading alpha, the Captain’s word is law in this pack – in and outside of the field. He keeps the peace and balance, even if he must bring in Simon as his enforcer sometimes, and neither Kyle nor Johnny wants to get scuffed by the Lieutenant again. 

“Send Simon back inside when you see him, aye? I need to have a word with him.” He calls after the younger men as they scurry off to get dressed and follow their orders. 

John approaches you slowly, eyes never leaving yours as you roll over onto your stomach, lifting your legs, crossed at the ankles with your ass perched up a little, already presenting for him and luring him in. It always works. 

“Quite the tease today, aren’t you, sweetheart?” John kneels on one leg, knees popping as he goes down. He cups your chin, tilting it up to him. “How’re you feeling?” 

You blink your pretty eyes up at him with feigned innocence. “Good, sir,” you purr, flashing a warm smile when John huffs in amusement, “I feel toasty warm and safe here.” 

John nods, pleased with your answer as he rubs the pad of his thumb over your chin in contemplation. 

Your back arches against Simon’s flushed chest, damp skins sticky with sweat while he breathes down your neck, mouthing along the curve of your shoulder as he keeps you impaled on his massive cock while he sits with his broad back against the headboard of the large bed, your thighs spread wide open and draped over his strong legs, giving John a perfect view of your wonderful cunt and the way it swallows and stretches around Simon’s prick. 

Your syrupy slick is dripping around your hole, down your crack and his heavy balls. You feel so full and yet it’s not enough. You’re burning up inside. The squelch is obscene whenever he lifts you up a little only to drop you back down on his length, making you cry out in pleasure each time. 

“Remember, lad, don’t knot her. I need you to prepare her for mine.” John reminds him sternly, still casually leaning against the bedroom wall. 

Simon grunts, nodding curtly. “Yes, sir.” 

John hums in approval at his obedience. Although he’s allowed Simon to drop the formalities off duty, especially in an intimate situation like this, his Lieutenant simply cannot do it, can’t give up the control. Deep down, John knows it’s so that Simon won’t forget himself, scared of his own self that he might do something to you he will regret if he’d ever lose control. It’s like he’s clinging to the power dynamic; clinging to John being the leader, the one and only alpha who can keep Simon on a metaphorical leash, ready to pull on it if he gets too rough. 

John knows Simon would never do anything harmful to you. John also knows that Kyle and Johnny are more prone to wearing you out when no one is around to keep them in check. He makes a mental note to have a pack briefing soon. If he wants to start breeding you, he wants to do it right with everyone involved and on the same page. 

And then your high-pitched moans pull John out of his thoughts, and he watches your body quake and tremble while Simon keeps thrusting up into your convulsing walls, large hands gripping the fat of your thighs as he coaxes another orgasm out of you while he holds his own release back. 

John can see how badly Simon wants to come, too. The tendons and veins throbbing in his thick neck, the sweat trickling down his temples, pale and heavily scarred skin now flushed and hot, and the way his shoulders shake with restraint, are all clear indicators of this pleasurable torture, though Captain’s orders hold him back and he’s a fiercely obedient pup. 

John tilts his head to the side, eyes zeroed in on the way your slick keeps gushing around Simon’s cock. “Would you like Simon to come inside you, sweetheart? You want to relief him of his suffering, hm? Your choice, love.” 

Your lips are parted, eager to be stuffed with another cock, as you regard John with a heavy-lidded gaze, head lolling back against Simon’s shoulder as you moan and whimper, and ultimately nod.  

Your pleading voice and verbal permission is the only push Simon needs, and he drops your thighs to wrap his bulky arms around your torso instead as he pumps his hips and starts fucking you with wild abandon, grunting praises in your ear while his dark eyes keep flicking down to his claiming mark on your right shoulder. His jaw twitches and his canines ache to bite and claim you all over again, but he manages to suppress the urge for now. 

“Yes,” you whine, hands grasping and holding onto Simon’s tattooed forearms desperately while you turn your head, nuzzling his throat while your warm breath puffs against his sweaty skin. “Yes, please, Si!” 

When Simon cums and spills his release inside of you eventually, John is already shedding his clothes, dropping the fabrics on the bedroom floor before approaching the bed. 

You’re mewling and chirping happily as Simon’s cock keeps throbbing while his chest heaves with rumbling, satisfied growls. He tilts your head to the side to seal your lips in a sloppy yet sweet kiss, licking into your mouth to taste you thoroughly before John’s arm snakes around your waist, ready to claim you for himself. 

Simon doesn’t snarl, doesn’t growl possessively when his Captain comes to steal you away. No, he only whines deep in his throat, but lets go of you, nonetheless, right when his knot starts to swell, eager to lock inside you. 

“Not yet, Simon,” John reminds him with a low rumble as he pulls you into his own arms, against his warm hairy chest. “You’ll get your turn, lad.” 

You’re already at that point where you’re just happy to be passed around along your alphas, eager to serve and have their cocks fill you up repeatedly. It starting to feel different, though, and in the back of your mind, you already know why that is. 

“How do you want it, love?” John asks softly, meaty palms caressing up and down your flanks while his own cock is bobbing against his lower abdomen, weeping with precum from its ruddy tip. You want to lick and cherish it. Behind you, Simon traces the curve of your spine with the rough tips of his fingers, needing the contact. You shudder and whine needily. 

John’s eyes soften. “That bad already, huh?” He reaches for your wrist and pulls you closer until you straddle his lap and he can kiss you properly. 

“Something wrong, sir?” Simon asks, his gruff voice laced with concern for you.  

John pulls back from the sensual kiss, a string of saliva connecting your lips that he licks away. 

“Our omega is going into heat soon and you know how needy she already is out of it,” he answers matter-of-factly. “Isn’t that right, princess?”  

You nod slowly, eyes becoming all glossy as you tremble under John’s loving gaze. 

Kyle and Johnny push and shove each other like a pair of rowdy pups after kicking off their wet boots by the front door, both carrying a pile of cut firewood. They’re still restless and buzzing with energy, even after exerting themselves outside in the snow, chopping wood for the past hour. 

“You smell that?” Kyle asks suddenly, dark brows furrowed quizzically as he drops the logs next to the fireplace, sniffing the air. 

Johnny rubs the cold tip of his nose with his equally cold hands. “Nah. Smell what?” He scents the air as well, eyes squinting as he picks up a familiar sound instead, one that has his heart start thudding rapidly in his chest. His eyes widen with glee as he looks at Kyle before they both take off sprinting down the hallway towards the master bedroom. 

What they find in the bedroom has them both freezing on the spot and their throats start rumbling with whiney growls, pricks already swelling with unbridled need and desire for you. 

The air is thick with the heady scent of sex, familiar alpha pheromones and your sweet, sweet slick. It makes their mouths water, and their chests swell with affection and pride.  

You’re on all fours on the bed, head resting on your folded forearms, your plump ass is up in the air, your back arched so beautifully as their Captain takes you from behind while Simon watches with heavy-lidded eyes, jerking his cock in rhythm with John’s shallow thrusts into your fluttering cunt. Neither of them minds the audience and you’re certainly calling out to them with soft, saccharine whines. 

Johnny doesn’t hesitate another second before he starts undressing in a hurry, more than eager to join, and Kyle swiftly follows the lead. 

“Permission to join, sir.” Johnny requests breathlessly and the mattress dips and creaks as he climbs onto the bed, already reaching you to pet your hair lovingly; his other hand squeezing his shaft to release some of that gut-wrenching pressure. Kyle crawls onto the mattress behind him, opting to lean against the headboard like Simon. 

Meanwhile, your eyelashes flutter as you blink up at your other two alphas; their heavy, delicious scents making your walls clench and convulse around John’s thick, swollen knot. Pressing your face into the mattress below, you keep panting and whining and moaning while John gropes and squeezes your ass cheeks soothingly, hushing you with his deep, husky voice before he addresses his packmates. 

“She’s going into heat soon. I had to knot her now, but she’ll need more.” He grunts out as his knot keeps throbbing, locked in past your soppy entrance. 

And their eyes darken at their Captain’s explanation. Now that they know what’s going on, it all makes sense.  

“Heat.” Kyle repeats under his breath, eyes trained on your while his cock twitches inside his boxer briefs. He remembers the first heat that got triggered when they’d claimed you as their omega, and his heart flutters in his chest, his stomach doing a little flip. It was one of the most stressful yet best and rewarding times of his life so far. 

When Johnny lies down next to you and starts caressing the curve of your spine, Simon glares and gives his calf a warning nudge with his foot. “Let her be, Johnny. Don’t overwhelm her.” 

“Am not even doin’ anythin’!” Johnny grumbles, glancing over his shoulder with a frown before his Captain’s stern glare makes him duck his head and simply lay down next to you like an obedient pup, and when you turn your head to gaze at the youngest alpha, he scoots closer to nuzzle his cold nose against yours sweetly. 

“And just to be clear,” Simon mutters, his cheeks flushing brighter as he keeps himself from bucking into his fist, “Cap’ already said tha’ it’s my turn to knot her next.” 

[shmalk]

141 is filled with alphas, not a single omega in sight. there are a few betas, but they're either low-ranking or transfers that were never going to last.

like you! (beta!reader) who works at reception and takes calls, scans badges and is the first point of contact for the task force.

none of them know your name, none of them even speak to you - maybe price, when you transfer a call to him, he'll mumble a thank you. or even laswell, when you bring her a coffee.

it's nothing, really, you don't mind.

only, one day, a totally normal friday, you've done the exact same style in your hair you always have, and you're wearing more clothes than you were yesterday.

price wants a coffee, sure- you make it, just the way he likes, and head towards his office. you knock, and wait a few seconds until you hear 'come in.'

the office is silent, it usually is - but this time there's more than just price inside.

they're finishing up just as you enter, soap and gaz sitting in front of the desk whilst ghost leant against the back wall.

"my apologies, captain." your voice isn't exactly quiet - why should it be, you've done nothing wrong, but its still respectful. price just nods as you place the cup down on his desk.

"thanks, that's all." he dismisses everyone in the room, and you wait for the boys to file out before you do, soap and gaz both giving you a cheeky smile.

ghost is the one to hold open the door, standing just adjacent to the doorway with his arm sprawled against it. its a heavy door, and you swallow as you pass him.

"thank you," you all but mumble out as you rush past him - straight into the break room.

you can't help but rant about the situation to your roommate whilst you're packing up your things, your phone tucked between your jaw and shoulder.

"i mean- he held the door open for me and i couldn't even look him in the eye to say thank you!" you stress, throwing your bag into your passenger seat before leaning back against your car. "god, all i wan't right now is a plate of sushi and some boba."

"too bad its pizza night, dweeb."

"thats not fair! i could loose my job, i should be allowed to eat my comfort food when im stressed out."

you stress about it over the whole weekend, and when you return back to work on monday you try to act as casual as possible. of course, you don't see ghost - price doesn't order a coffee, and youre break time comes around quicker than you expected.

you had brought- oh, theres- your favourite sushi, and a boba drink sitting where your food was supposed to be. in somewhat messy hand writing, on a small piece of paper, theres your name.

signed ' s. riley. '

i am a sucker for sweet lil moments like this !!

in my head i think that simon would like a beta, or an alpha, but in this lil snippet (which is CERTAINLY getting turned into a fic) he's big and broad and gets worried when he's with alphas because they can't think straight, he tells them what to do and he does it.

but you? you dont react to his scent or chase him down to get him to court you - so, of fource, he courts you. <3

[the-californicationist]

Cali's Kinktober: Day 06

Kinktober Masterlist coitus more ferarum - "fuck like animals" TF141 x f!reader Kinks > omegaverse, comeflation, hurt-comfort, fuck or die, medical discussions about dicks and puberty Full tags on AO3 - MDNI - Read at your own risk.

An Omegaverse AU. You are a professional, one of the best. As a Guidance Omega, you are happy to lend your (well-paid) skills to any Alpha in need. However, when one of your regular clients asks you to help his friend through his very first rut, you wonder if there are some challenges that are beyond your expertise. 

You were no doctor, but that definitely did not look good. As you stood next to your long-time client, Captain John Price, the Apex Alpha of his pack, you studied his soldier’s condition. It was the man’s first rut, which was very odd indeed, but nothing about this situation was normal. Apparently, he’d been living as a Beta for years, thinking that he had just missed his parents’ genetic code. But, now that he had been exposed to some sort of Konni terrorist drug, his genes had mutated, awakening latent Alphic traits. 

“How old is he?” You asked. 

“Twenty-nine. Too bloody old to be going through a first rut,” Price sighed, crossing his arms over his wide chest, “Mine was painful when I was a lad, and my cock was half the size it was meant to be. To be stretched like this… We’re lookin’ to you, Omega. You ever seen anythin’ like it?”

You shook your head. You hadn’t ever seen this before. When Alphas went through their first puberty as younglings, their genitals swelled, growing three or four times their size, breaking the thin skin they had since their birth and replacing their reproductive system with functioning Alpha hormones and fully equipped physical traits. As they matured further, their genitals would still grow and change with them, but not nearly as much as the first time. The initial switch in puberty could be traumatizing for younglings that went through it in later years rather than earlier. 

“No,” you sighed with him, “If he were younger, we could obviously opt for the surgery, but this is his mature skin. It’s not the membrane. All those years as a Beta, and now for him to be going through this… The pain must be unbearable. Perhaps… no, no. I don’t think that’s possible.”

“What?” Johnny’s Alpha, Simon Riley, interrupted your thought, insisting, “Tell us. We’ll do anything. We need him to survive this.”

Any other time, you would say that this was a gross overreaction, but in this case, their new Alpha friend may lose his life if he failed to make the change. If his skin cut and bled, if his hormones failed to take over in his Alphic glands, he might not live to even have a rut at all. 

“And you’ve tried the warm baths? The ones with the numbing oil I sent you?” You clarified, wondering how he was responding to other treatments.

“Every four hours. They help him get through a few hours of sleep at night, but it’s not sustainable. He can’t even wear clothes for fuck’s sake,” Gaz, an old friend of yours who had known you before your work as a Guardian Omega, spoke up. He was curt, obviously stressed about his friend. 

You walked over to Johnny’s bedside and held his hand, 

“Hey, Johnny. I’m the Guardian Omega John told you about. I’m here to help you, okay?”

He writhed, sweat beading over his brow, and he glowered down at his naked body, fiercely glaring at his red, swollen prick,

“Serves me right for all the bloody wishin’ I did as a laddie for havin’ a bigger knob, aye?”

The fact that he managed a slight smile and a wry joke, even if it was said through clenched teeth, immediately won you over. This man was exactly your type; brave, funny, and built like a beast. You didn’t know if you could help him, but you wanted to try. 

“Johnny, we have to let your dick stretch to its true size. If it stays trapped behind your foreskin and the outer epidermis of your sheath, you could have internal bleeding, or worse.”

“I didnae ken the word epidermis could turn me on, bonnie, but the way you say it… proves me wrong.”

His soft blue eyes finally met yours, and you could tell he was just putting on a courageous face. He knew he was in trouble, and he was probably in more pain than you previously suspected. 

“What was your idea?” Simon pressed, coming to stand next to Johnny’s bedside, staring at you with some urgency. 

You looked down at Johnny, rubbing the back of his hand with your fingers, feeling the ridges of his knuckles,

“I could keep you in me. We could… soak the skin in the Omegan oils. It would be…” 

You stopped talking. It was ridiculous. And based on the look on all of the men’s faces, they couldn’t believe you were even suggesting it.

“You cannae do it, lass. It’d throw you into a wee heat, and I’m in no state to help you. Ah! Shite,” Johnny gasped, wincing in pain as his cock throbbed, obviously eager to be a part of a heat, hypothetical or not. 

“I’ll stay, love. You’re gonna need some help gettin’ yourself to that state and keepin’ it that way,” Price volunteered. 

“I can’t ask you to do that, John. You’d be in just as much pain as Johnny by the end of the heat.”

“Aye, but I’d be alive, and if it works, so would he.”

John was stubborn. But, he was right. If you were going to try to soak Johnny’s aching cock in you for hours, you needed to prepare. Gaz could see the gears turning in your head,

“You’re gonna need us in shifts, and you know it. This is gonna take a fuckin’ village.”

And so it did. You had John bring in supplies – food, hydration, lube, and every comfort item you could imagine needing – and you got to work. The first step was getting Johnny settled inside of you so that you could allow his skin to soften in the oils from your glands. But, you couldn’t produce those on your own. You needed to be worked up to it by an Alpha, preferably one who knew how to get your body to come hard and quick. Wash, rinse, and repeat. 

You wouldn’t be able to get any pleasure from Johnny’s straining cock while he was inside of you. Thrusting would be beyond painful for him, and it would be dangerous to his system. You would need to cockwarm him, and John and his men would need to make you come without fucking you. The only problem was, if you were made to stay in that deep, orgasmic state for long enough, your body would toss you into a heat, and that’s when the real fun would begin. 

In your heat, you would expose all of the Alphas in the room to your pheromones. They would rut, and they wouldn’t be able to rut into your cunt with it occupied, as it were. They had to endure the cycle without your soothing oils, sacrificing their own comfort so that you could help Johnny’s foreskin and swollen tissue endure the change. 

You thought it might work. It was the best idea you had, but the problem was staring you right in the face: Alphas in a rut physically needed to fuck for it to stop. If – and it was a big if – your plan worked for Soap and you could coax his prick to form a knot, you would then need to service the other three. They might fight each other to be first in line, they might hurt you. It was so risky, but it was a risk you were all willing to take in order for Johnny to get better. 

“Johnny,” you woke him from the nap he was taking while you were all gathering supplies, “We’re ready.”

“Mm,” he groaned, his eyes wrenched shut from the pain, “Alright, bonnie. I’m ready for you.”

“This will be the worst of it, I think. And,” you made sure he was looking into your face, “It will be very, very painful.”

He nodded,

“I ken it, lass. Dinnae fash yourself. Needs doin’, and I know you… Angh! Fuck,” he hissed, grabbing your hand tighter when a pang struck him, “You’ll be there for me.” 

“I will, Johnny. I won’t leave you. This is gonna work,” you leaned down and kissed him on the cheek, trying to be respectful of Simon’s claim, even if it was now – at least hormonally – invalid.

You stood on the bed, straddling his hips, and Simon and Gaz were there to help lower you into position. You wanted to be able to settle your hole on him as carefully as possible. No sudden movements. 

You poured copious amounts of lube down his shaft and used your fingers to spread it around the outside and inside of your entrance. You wanted him to feel as little resistance as possible. This was about comfort, not pleasure. 

“Alright, slow as you can,” you instructed, letting the two giants by your side lower you down into position. 

The moment your skin made contact with Johnny’s ruddy cockhead, he screamed out in agony,

“Creepin’ Jesus! Fuck, fuck, fuck!” 

“Hold him, John!” You called out to their captain for help. If Johnny jerked forward, he could rip his flesh and cause permanent damage. 

Price’s huge hands pinned his friend to the bed, and you could see tears streaming down Johnny’s cheeks. You wished you could take his pain away, but stopping now meant giving up on him, and you weren’t going to let it come to that. 

Another inch and you had half of his pulsing head inside of you. It was smooth and easy for you to take with all the lube, but if you hadn’t prepped yourself, Johnny’s giant phallus would be a challenge. If he lived, he would be quite a formidable Alpha. You couldn’t let him down. 

“A little further, Gaz,” you said in a low voice, not wanting to scare Johnny of more pain. 

Another inch and the crown popped into you, sealing itself within your warm, wet body. 

Johnny cried out, shouting for mercy, begging for them to just let him die. 

“You can’t fuckin’ die, Johnny,” Simon said, trying to comfort his mate, “C’mon, love. You can do this.”

“Si… please, I cannae…” Soap looked up at him, pleading. 

You dropped a little more, and each time you did, you felt your heart clench at Johnny’s groans of anguish, ready for it to end even though you had just begun. 

Finally, after more than thirty minutes of this terrible limbo, you reached his base and you settled your weight on his body, staying as still as possible to minimize his discomfort. 

“Fuck, bonnie. I cannae do it. I’m sorry, I’m… It hurts,” Johnny was sobbing, and Simon rushed to his side.

Price finally let him free, and he laid there beneath you, throbbing inside of you, aching in your warmth. 

“John,” you whispered, getting Price’s attention, “We should hurry.”

The captain took one last look at Soap and then came over to your side. He stripped off his clothes and tugged on his already-hard cock, drooling for you despite the drama. Your pheromones were strong even without a rut; it was why you had been so successful at your job. You just hoped it would be enough. 

Price sat on the bed next to where you were straddling Johnny’s cock, and he began to kiss you, making sure to take care not to move you too much, but still taking charge of your pleasure nonetheless. You felt his hand begin to rub your lubed folds, prepping your body for your first of many orgasms. 

“Mngh,” you gasped, “Your hands are always so damn good.”

“Love touchin’ you, sweetheart. Gonna make you come for me,” John purred. 

And he was right. It didn’t take much effort from him, and you were at the precipice of your first descent into the dark abyss of bliss, trying to come without accidentally humping forward, controlling your breathing, focusing on your core. 

“Motherfuck–” You let out a deep guttural groan, your belly twisting in on itself and punishing you for staying so still. 

“Good girl,” Price murmured, picking up the pace to chase another one down. 

Two, three, four more, and you were sobbing with pleasure. You couldn’t stop yourself from pulsing around Johnny, but he was trying to be brave. He hadn’t complained once during this part of the process, and as you felt your body produce its slick from high up in your cunt, you hoped his flesh would yield and allow his cock to grow. You weren’t sure exactly where your body was going to fit more of him, but that was a problem for later.

“There it is,” you told Price in a slurred voice.

“Your slick? Aye, I smell you, love. Smells like heaven.”

“Keep going,” Simon said over his shoulder, “Please.”

You nodded down at him, holding onto Price for stability, trying your best to stay in this submissive state without any overt movement. It was not easy. All you wanted to do was hump the life out of Johnny’s fat cock and make him drop his load inside of you, but you knew, logically, that couldn’t happen. So, you stayed as still as you could, holding your hips in place, trying to be as stationary as possible for him. 

The afternoon turned into evening and then into night, and Price had switched out with Gaz who was now buzzing your high-powered vibrator on you with a dark look in his eyes. 

“Babes, I think we have to stop.”

“No,” you gasped, sweat pouring off of your brow, “It’s working. I can feel him growing inside of me. It’ll work.”

“That’s not what I mean. You’re droppin’ into heat. Look at you, you’re burnin’ up.”

You knew he was right, and you also knew it was way too soon. If you fell into your heat now, the whole process would be even harder. The three Alphas who were helping you would have their own needs, soon. And you would be the only one able to solve their rut. 

Price was already not faring so well. He’d needed to step into the other room to cool off, and you could see his knot hanging heavy above his balls. He was producing so much of his own slick and come, and your body was feeding off of that knowledge. 

“Look, Kyle,” you nodded down at Soap, “He’s asleep, deeply, and he finally has some relief. This is working, and we can’t stop now.”

“Come again, then. Come for me right now,” Gaz used his voice to command you, and you were so weak to his Alpha's power that you did. He had forced you to come just then, and you had to clutch him around the neck to stop from sliding back and forth over Soap’s growing cock. 

“See?” Gaz glared at you, “You’re in the early stages now. Your fever isn’t the only bloody clue.”

He grabbed your hair at the nape of your neck and made you look down at his cock. It was huge, and the tip gleamed with an iridescent bead of his Alphic slick. That wasn’t his normal precome. It was a rut, and you were staring at the first drop of his breeding fluids, ready to be painted inside of you to eas the way for his seed to take root. 

“Yeah,” Simon sighed, showing you his rainbow-covered palm, “I’ve had it for a while, now. I was just hopin’ Johnny’d be better and we could stop the rut from setting in.”

“Johnny’s knot is just starting to form. If we stop, he’ll have to go through the rest without the oils, and he… mngh…” The vibrator teased your clit, making you feel another orgasm coming on. It was painful for you to come, but you could handle it. Overstimulation was not life-threatening. You gritted your teeth and continued, “He can’t do it alone.”

“Then, come again,” Gaz swiped a wet thumb across your tight asshole, pressing the vibrator even stronger to your body, making you tumble and struggle with another orgasm, “The faster he knots you, the sooner I can have this pretty fuckin’ cunt.”

“Sergeant,” Price snapped at Gaz, forcing his attention away from you, his voice full of a different kind of hunger. 

Gaz blinked, the dark look in his eyes giving way to his usual sweetness, and he started to apologize to you,

“Fuck, I’m sorry, babes. Just got a little carried away. You smell so fuckin’ intense in your heats. Your scent…”

“It’s okay, Kyle,” you kissed him on the mouth, “It’s not your fault. Just take a break. I can handle John.”

Gaz kissed you back and retreated, clothing himself and ducking outside on the patio for a smoke. As John came to your side, he helped you onto some pillows, placing them under your knees. 

Just when you were settling in again, trying to stay as comfortable as you could, you both heard Soap wake up with a start. Simon was making some tea, but he was right back at Johnny’s side. 

“Johnny, careful,” he helped him readjust, waiting for the cries of pain to begin again. 

But, the screams didn’t come. Sure, he didn’t look like he was having a particularly good time, but he was not crying out in agony. He seemed more surprised that you were,

“Oh, shite. Bonnie, that feels… better. Feels like I can breathe again. Fuck. The base though. It’s so fuckin’ swollen.”

“Your knot,” you panted, “Your knot finally has room to form. I can feel it stretching me.”

Price moved his hand to the edge of your puffy, aching lips, feeling around the place where your body met Johnny’s, checking to see how far he had knotted you. 

“Tha’s our good girl,” he smiled up at you, “Been givin’ him your come, love?”

You nodded, resting your head on Price’s neck, exhausted, but trying to push onward. Soap still needed your strength. 

“Let’s give him a little more, yeah?” The captain’s hand moved to your arse, dipping his finger into your tight hole, even tighter now that it was fighting Johnny’s raging erection for space. 

“Holy fuck,” Price moaned, “He’s got you so fuckin’ full.”

Between Soap’s spread legs, Price laid down on his belly on the bed and began to kiss and bite the meat of your ass, his warm, wet tongue heading straight for your hole. 

He began to lick the outside of your rim, lapping at you in big, long licks. His huge hands were holding your cheeks apart, squeezing their plumpness in his fingers indulgently. When the tip of his pink, writhing muscle reached just beyond the inside of your hole, you cried out, gasping from the sensation. John began to fuck you with his mouth, and you felt your whole body come alive with sparkling need. 

“Mngh! John, please!” You shuddered, your knees trembling on the pillows. 

John hummed, talking to you between decadent licks,

“You smell so bloody good, Omega. You’ve got me fuckin’ dripping down my cock. My knot is already so full for you. Ready for you.”

“Ngh! You’re comin’ on me, lass. I can feel you, and it actually feels bloody brilliant,” Johnny commented, moaning through gritted teeth. 

The man in your pussy was still so sensitive; it was hard for him to focus. But, Soap was growing. His knot was filling with his blood, hardening within you. You could feel it. He was becoming a true Alpha. 

“Are you okay, Johnny? Does it hurt?” You asked him, watching as Simon rubbed his hands all over his chest and belly, trying to sooth him. 

“In the best way, hen. It’s workin’. I know it is.”

Price’s mouth, and the relief you felt at Johnny’s progress, worked together in your nerves and allowed your muscles to relax. You melted into an orgasm over him, pouring your Omegan oils all over his skin. In that same moment, as your come surrounded Johnny’s immense knot, you felt it slip just that much further into you and plug your hole with its girth. He’d done it; he had knotted you without injury. 

“Unhgh! Fuck! Fuck, bonnie, that feels… oh, fuck, I’m gonna come.”

You screamed in a wild shout, coming even harder now that you felt Johnny’s thick cream burst inside of your belly, hot and sticky and trapped within you. It made you feel so full of him, his knot and his come leaving little room for anything else. You dared to roll your hips on him, helping drain him dry, pulling more and more come from his heavy balls and letting it churn inside of you, swirling around his cock within your walls. 

Price came back up for air, and after you caught your breath, he helped Johnny slip himself out. His cock was red and bruised from his ordeal, but it was the prick of an Alpha. He’d lived through the change. 

Just when you were going to lean forward and congratulate him, Price’s hands clenched around your shoulders and yanked you from the bed. 

“John! Wait, it’s –”

“It’s my turn, love. You’re in a fuckin’ heat for me, and I’m ready for you,” his face turned dark and serious, just like Gaz had done, and there was no man in the room capable of saving you from John Price. 

“Just let me have a moment. I’m so sore, John. If you can wait for–nghah!!”

He threw you down on your hands and knees and thrust himself inside of you, his large shape too much for your body to ignore. You felt the glide of his slick, and you knew he needed to rut inside of you. He’d mate with you, and it would take, even through your pharmaceutical-grade blockers. He was an Apex Alpha, and there were no drugs on the planet to keep him from completing his birthright. You were about to be bred. 

“Waited long enough, pretty girl. Johnny’s got you so warm and soft. Shouldn’t be long before you’re taking my knot, too,” he growled in your ear, laying over your body as he tried to squeeze every last inch of his shaft inside your hole. 

You could feel his knot swelling at his root like a giant’s fist, bigger than you had ever felt it. But, you’d never serviced him during a heat. It wasn’t done. Guardian Omegas were there to help with ruts; they handled their heats on their own. But, goddamn it was nice to have a real cock for it this time. You’d been single for a long time, and you’d forgotten just how luxurious your body made it feel when you did the right thing and fed a true Alpha right inside your core. 

His thrusts were lewd and cruel. John banged himself into you, a hammer and its tack, dragging you under him and covering you with his hulking body. He was trying to knot you already, but you weren’t prepared to take him. Your whole body felt like it would burn up if you let it, and your skin flushed hot with need. 

“John… I can’t. You’re too much for me. I’m not… Oh, God, fuck!”

Price didn’t listen to your pleas for mercy. Or, he couldn’t. When you looked at him over your shoulder, you saw his eyes, unfocused and half-closed, glancing down every few thrusts to stare at his cock as it whet itself inside of your pussy. He was gone. 

He shoved himself forward, planting his hand in the middle of your back like a hawk with its talons, clutching at his soft prey as he devoured it. His knot pressed, and then retreated, only to press again, determined to get stuck inside your cunt so that his come could fill your womb. 

One more hard thrust, and he was in. 

You wailed out in high pleasure, and you felt your body begin to shudder and tremble from the mind-breaking lust of taking his enormous knot. It was so heavy inside of you that you felt like you were being pushed down by it. When you tried to lift your hips to roll them against him, you couldn’t move. He was too big. 

“Tha’s it, love. Tha’s it. This cunt belongs to me.”

John began to come, grunting and growling out nasty words to you as he spilled his seed inside of you. You felt it pool within you, mixing with Johnny’s, overwhelming it and soaking into your womb. He just kept filling you and filling you; you thought it would never stop. In fact, your belly began to feel tight against the floor, swollen with his milky white come. 

But, your legs were dry. He had knotted you so tightly that nothing escaped. When his hips tried to hump you, reflexes from his sex-fueled brain, he dragged you back across the floor with his dick, strong enough to yank your whole body back and forth with his knot. You felt like a ragdoll, tossed about, stuffed and cock-drunk.     

When he finally did pull out of you, you felt the gush of fluids burst out of your hole and cover the floor. It was a sickening, oozing sort of feeling, and you had to catch your breath from the way your belly clenched and spasmed from the stress.

Just when you thought your ordeal was over, you felt another set of hands take their place on your ass cheeks, holding you down again. 

You looked over your shoulder, and you realized that Gaz had come back inside, ready for his turn with you. 

You started to protest, but John’s callused hand grabbed your face, lifting you up and setting your mouth on his cock, breathing hard and groaning,

“Good little Omega. Be sweet for Garrick, love. You’ll have me again soon. Quite the fuckin’ rut you started. Had no idea this pussy could be so nice. Might have to send you into heat more often.”

idek what the hell this is. someone put me out to pasture holy hell what is wrong with me

[diejager]

Please!!! I need more of Beta Reader x Poly 141 please!!!

Or maybe an Omega went feral of an alpha who try to do something to her and she went FERAL???

Cw: pack dynamic, Beta!reader, fluff, tell me if I missed any.

You groaned beside Gaz, walking into a crowded room with his arm wrapped around your shoulder. It smelled of rut and aggression, adrenaline laced high and drunken thrill pumping through the pulsing veins of alphas who called this bar home. It was a pungent smell, nose clogging and headache inducing to your sensitive sense. Perhaps you should have wore a blocker like the three others did, betas often had no use to one since their - and by extension yours - noses weren’t as keen or sensitive as the others secondary sexes. Betas couldn’t scent any amount of pheromone or musk, but you were the unfortunate one born with a rare disability —or so most betas considered a disability that negated their clear-minded conscience.

Logic over emotions, the mind presided over the heart of betas. It was what made them essential in a population where the leading figures had moments of hyperactivity and extreme emotional imbalance. Gaz didn’t have any issue following his expectations, cool-minded, gentle and caring, and emotionally dependable. There were such a drastic difference between him and you, grumpy, emotional and suffering from a perpetual scent-inducing headache. He could stay level-headed in all and any situation, but you caved to anger and irritation if the smells became too much. 

He was an examplary beta, yet he always praised you ad encouraged you to join them, a warm palm on your back, or a firm grip on your shoulder, Gaz was a steady rock you learned to lean onto. He was less volatile than Ghost and Price and less excitable than Soap. It almost made you loathe how comfortable he was with everyone while you still stuck out like a sore thumb after months under their care. 

And it didn’t help that Soap had managed to convince you - coerced, you mumbled - to come drink with them. The bar was packed, filled to the brim with alphas, omegas and betas, most patched with blockers over their noses, but their scent glands still stank under the thick, patchy blockers on their necks and shoulders. Price led you to their designated booth, seemingly promised to them by a higher power. They sat and chatted, boisterous words shared between Gaz and Soap while Ghost loomed over the table to your right, taking the seat at the edge in guardianship. They soaked in the comfortable familiarity: the warm lights and brick walls of the pub, the low music and loud chatter and clatter of glass. 

It was all something that would usually make someone relax and calm or happy, but it only made you squirm in your seat, occasionally bumping into Ghost to your right and Soap to your left, squeezed between two big men that smelled so strongly. It made you slightly nauseous, enough to feel a pang at the back of your head, but keep you conscious. You sighed a fourth time, shifting once more, when Ghost placed his hand on your thigh, his palm so big and hot grounding you and keeping you still to his wandering and worried eyes. 

“You all right?” The rumble of his voice had lowered to an accommodating tone, considerate of your growing aches, “Do you need a moment?”

You shook your head, mumbling a soft ‘no, thank you’, reassuring his worry and nodding to the table where Price just arrived with drinks in hand. Ghost reached for both his and your drinks, leaning into you and bathing you in his scent, the woody musk coating you in a soft layer of comfort. You were truly fortunate that their scents were the least irritating you’ve ever encountered, soft and comfortable compared to the grating and annoying musk of other teams you’ve worked with. 

Thanking Ghost for the drink and flushing lightly after Soap had leaned over and pressed his nose to yours, smiling cheekily at Ghost, you hypothesised that perhaps you could end up liking such outing and spending more times surrounding by them.

Taglist: @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @bvxygriimes @distracteddragoness @konigsblog @im-making-an-effort @daisychainsinknots @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @danielle143 @tuttifuckinfruttifriday @notspiders @brokenpieces-72 @petwifed @randominstake @haven-1307 @shironasumi @sparky--bunny @bloobewy @cod-z @sweetnanah @aldis-nuts @evolutionarry @kaoyamamegami @cassiecasluciluce

[soaps-mohawk]

Cherry Red, Crimson Blood

Chapter 38: Shattered

Summary: Things aren't okay. They never will be again.

Pairing: Poly 141 x reader

Word Count: 8,520 words

Warnings: Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, Alternate Universe, angst, PTSD, nightmares, POV changes, depression and anxiety, medical stuff, injuries, brief description of a possible death, language, mention of weight loss due to medical stuff, emotionally heavy chapter (again), slightly graphic imagery, illness, so much crying

A/N: I just want to make something very clear here since there's a scene in this chapter that might be interpreted this way, but 'mega is NOT suicidal. That's not something that's going to be in this fic, and neither is self-harm. It would have been well warned in advance if that was going to be something coming up in this fic. She's struggling a lot, but she's not suicidal, she's not going to become suicidal, nor will she self-harm even off screen. So don't worry. That's not what's happening. It won't be happening.

Okay, just wanted to make that clear. Enjoy the suffering!

11/30/24: **This chapter has been edited and rewritten from its original version**

MASTERLIST | <- Previous | Next ->

The scream slices through the silence seconds before chaos erupts. 

John is on his feet and out the door before Kyle is even fully awake. Simon is on his heels down the stairs, the two of them nearly colliding in their rush. His heart thuds in his chest as he sees your door open, the overhead light on. It’s bad. It must be bad if the overhead light is on. You hate the overhead light. 

He barrels in like a bull, ready to fight. The screaming has stopped, but it still rings in his ears. The fear, the panic. Something has happened. Someone got in. He should have made you take the room upstairs. He should have put a barrier between you and the door. That window. Someone could break that easily and grab you before they even noticed.

“It’s okay, it’s okay.” 

The screaming has stopped, but gut-wrenching sobs have taken its place. He takes a moment to scan the room. Nothing is misplaced. The window isn’t broken, there’s no bodies, no one that shouldn’t be in there. 

“You’re okay.” Christine soothes you as you sob. “It was just a nightmare.” 

The bright fluorescent overhead light burns his eyes as he stands there, staring at the bed. Christine is right there, having beaten them across the living room, or perhaps she had already been in there, having heard you in your distress before they could. You're tucked in her arms, your face against her shoulder as she holds you. 

Nightmare. 

The safety and security the cottage promised has faded, leaving you at the mercy of the horrors your mind can conjure up in your sleep. Something twists deep in John’s stomach as he turns, motioning for the others to back up and give you some space. You won’t want them there, and things will only get worse if you notice them. 

His heart is still thudding in his chest as he stands there, the sharp sound of your scream still ringing in his ears despite his confirmation of your safety. The other three look just as startled as he feels, standing there tensely in the dark living room. He brings himself to move, turning his back on them for a moment to try and gather his thoughts as he flips on the lamp in the corner. It casts a warm light across the living room, far too warm for how he’s feeling. He’s trying not to panic, trying not to be sick on the floor from the worry. His heart is in his throat, trying to choke him. He’s trying so hard to be strong, not just for him, but for his pack, for you. 

He sinks down on one of the couches, rubbing a hand over his face. He had been so sure something had happened, that their safe little bubble had been breached and someone knew about their whereabouts. He had been so sure someone was trying to hurt you with a scream like that. 

Maybe someone was, but not in reality. 

What is it you dream about now? Your nightmares about your father and your traumatic presentation must seem like nothing now compared to what must haunt your mind. Do you dream of Graves and his torture? Do you dream of them leaving you behind? Do you dream of dying because of their failures? 

A hand settles on his shoulder, a body sinking onto the couch next to him. Arms are wrapping around him, easing him against a solid chest. 

He’s crying. 

He didn’t even realize the tears had started flowing. 

He can hear the reverberating voice in his head, yelling at him, telling him not to show such weakness in front of his pack, in front of his team. He’s supposed to be the strong one, he’s supposed to be the stable one keeping the pack afloat and steady. Yet here he is, breaking down in front of them. 

“It’s okay.” 

Kyle. 

His sweet Kyle. 

How he’s been neglecting his sweet beta, and yet, how willing Kyle still is to reach out and comfort him in such a time of visible distress. That’s what betas are supposed to do. Mediate and balance the emotions of the pack. How have they been coping with all of this? How have Kyle and Johnny been managing in such a time of disarray and upheaval? Have they been managing it? He doesn’t even know. He doesn’t even know the state of his pack, of the members of his team. 

What a failure he is. 

He lets himself lean against Kyle, something filling his chest as Kyle’s soft scent seeps into his senses. He’s projecting it, not just for John but also for the whole room. Johnny is crying too, soft sobs tearing from his chest as he sits on the other couch. Simon is on his knees in front of him, trying to get him calmed and breathing. 

They’ve been ignoring and denying each other for days, fraying the bonds further while trying so hard not to. The pain they’ve been causing in their emotional constipation and intentional neglect is almost worse than the pain caused by their infighting. At least fighting they were feeling something. At least fighting they weren’t cutting each other off so willingly. 

“We can’t do this anymore.” He says, his voice thick and shaky from his tears. “Cutting each other off. It’s not helping anything.” He doesn’t move from where he’s tucked against Kyle’s chest, letting the comfort wash over him for the first time in a week and a half. 

How he’s missed this. 

“It’s not doing any good for any of us.” Simon says, shifting onto the couch next to Johnny. 

“Especially not our omega.” Kyle says, voicing the thought flashing through all of their minds. 

“We may not be able to do much to help her right now, but we can focus on each other. That is something we can do.” John swallows thickly, his alpha starting to come back to life, his instincts aware again as he stares at Johnny and Simon. “Doing nothing isn’t good for any of us. We need to have something to focus on, something tangible we can do. Denying each other comfort isn’t going to help anyone.” 

“I full-heartedly agree.” 

John whips around, Christine standing in front of your closed door. He hadn’t even noticed her enter the room, hadn’t sensed her standing behind them. Johnny and Simon are the only two that don’t look startled, but they must have seen her come out from their position facing your door. 

“Sorry.” The corner of her lip twitches up in a smirk. “Thought you would have noticed.” 

John clears his throat. “How is she?” 

“Settled again.” Christine says, moving over to the chair. 

“How long has she been having nightmares?” Kyle asks. 

“Since that first day in the med center in Dallas.” She says, sinking into the chair. How heavy this must all be on her shoulders. “I’d almost call them more sleep hallucinations. Mostly of Graves. Seeing him in the room, being attacked by him.” 

“Is there anything that can be done to help?” John asks. 

“For these kinds of nightmares? Not really.” Christine folds her hands in her lap. “Her brain is trying to process what happened. Until she feels safe enough to truly begin working on processing the trauma, it’s likely the nightmares will continue.” 

“Is there anything we can do to help her feel safe?” Kyle says. 

Christine’s lips purse as she looks between the four of them. “I’m not sure any of you could do anything right now directly, at least. She’s not open to that yet. Working on your bonds with each other, though, could help her omega finally settle and allow her emotions to even out again. That can help her feel safer, remove that instability and the fear of losing control again.” 

All of them share looks, John and Simon staring at one another. They hadn’t even thought about that. Well, at least he hadn’t. Christine had told him months ago that omegas need their alpha when they distress, when their omega takes over. They can come back from it with the help of an alpha...their alpha. Without one, the chances of survival were slim. Yet here you are, trying to do it all on your own. Having to do it all on your own. 

That ache in his chest starts again as he stares at Simon. He sent Simon after you, he made Simon go through that process of seeing you in that state and scruffing you. He made Simon be the one to help you through that. He made Simon be there when you needed an alpha most because he couldn’t face the fact that he abandoned you, he left you behind like you were nothing but another faceless soldier. 

He wipes his face as the tears start falling again. He truly is a failure of an alpha. 

Despite Christine’s reassurances, John can’t help the automatic reaction to your screams. On his feet instantly, his heart pounding in his chest ready to fight bare handed whatever might be causing such a reaction. Whoever might be causing such a reaction. He can’t fight the demons in your head, though, and he’s always greeted by the sight of Christine by your side, comforting you as best she can. 

He wants to hate her, wants to be angry at her for taking his place, doing what he should be doing. His alpha scratches at his mind every time he sees her by your side, giving you comforts he should be giving, but it’s his fault. It’s his fault she’s the one there with you. It’s his fault you’re suffering so much. Those thoughts send his alpha crawling back into its cage with its tail between its legs. 

It doesn’t matter the time of day, whether it was a nap or the middle of the night, your screams have a pain throbbing deep in his chest. His heart is constantly racing, waiting for that rush of adrenaline at the sound of your terrified scream, at that rush of instinct to protect and fight. He’s not sure how much his heart can take. 

He might have a heart attack by the end of their stay at the cottage. 

That’s something he’s been trying not to think about. 

They can’t stay here forever, no matter how much he knows you’ll want to, how much the others will want to. Eventually they’ll begin to go stir-crazy, itching for something to do. They still have jobs, and Kate can only keep them off the radar for so long, and can only give so many excuses. Eventually they’ll have to go back. Eventually they’ll have to make that decision of what comes next. 

He’s going to delay that as much as he possibly can. 

They can’t go back while Shepherd is still out there. They can’t trust that anywhere is safe while he’s still skulking around, while he still has contacts that could put them all in danger. That could put you in danger. 

That’s not a risk he’s willing to take again. 

But what comes next? 

What will they decide to do? Can they go back, knowing what the inevitable will be? Can they take that risk of having to leave you again, put you through that constant fear and worry that they might not come back? What if they all leave again? Could you survive the fear that something might happen while they’re away again? Not to them, but to you? 

Could they leave you alone again? 

Those are thoughts for another day when they’re inevitably faced with the fact they have to return to society and their lives and jobs. 

They have time. 

He has to make sure you’re okay first. 

You’re not okay.

You’re so very far from okay. 

The bedside lamp is on, casting a golden glow around the room. 

There’s nothing there. There’s nothing there. 

It’s one of the rare times you’ve woken before you can react, before you can scream and alert everyone in the house that you’ve had a nightmare. They’ll all come running. All of them. 

You hate it. 

You hate the nightmares, you hate the fear, you hate the constant pain and worry and the constant knowledge that your pack is right there. They want to go back to how things were, they want things to go back to normal, but they can’t. They expect you to forgive them, to go back to loving them, but how can you after everything? 

They left you. 

They let this happen to you and they just want you to pretend like nothing happened. That’s what they would do. Go back to normal life after being tortured and forget it all happened because that’s what they do. 

You’re not them. 

You don’t want to be like them. 

Cold. Heartless. Uncaring. Unwilling to put anyone but themselves first. 

Fuck them. 

The only thing keeping you here is the fact you’re bonded to them. That, and you’re an omega. You’d get picked up off the street and brought right back here to your owner. Or, worse, you’d get picked up by someone looking for a cute little omega to add to their collection. 

Or worse. 

You’d get picked up by someone else. 

Graves. Shepherd. 

If you’re lucky, they’d kill you instantly. Leave your body on the front porch for the others to find. You won’t care anymore. You’ll be dead. 

You hastily wipe the tears from your cheeks, wiggling yourself back until you’re leaning against the headboard. Your shoulder doesn’t hurt quite as much anymore. It still throbs, still aches, still occasionally almost puts you on the floor when you try to reach over your head with it. Your throat is healing too. Soup isn’t quite as horrible as it was a few days ago. Solid food makes you ache, but at least you can get it down without feeling like you’re swallowing glass. 

You still haven’t spoken to them, though. 

You can hardly stand to look at them. 

Fuck them. 

Just the thought of them makes you want to scream. 

Dr. Keller says it's normal, being angry. ‘It’s all part of the process.’ The anger, the fear, the pain, the depression. It’s all normal. It’s all part of the process. It’s all necessary. You won’t get better holding it all in. You won’t get better numbing yourself. You won’t get better if you don’t allow yourself to feel everything. 

You hate it. 

Why should you have to go through all these feelings, all this pain? Why should you be the one suffering because of their decisions? It’s not fair. They should be suffering. They should be in pain. They should be the ones on the brink of insanity because of the fear and the pain and the suffering and their omega constantly screaming at them. 

It makes you want to scream. 

Screaming will only draw them in, force them closer. Screaming will alert them all, make them all come running. You don’t want any of them near. You don’t want to have to see them again. 

Fuck them. 

You let out a huff before wiggling back down the bed until your head hits the pillow. You won’t go back to sleep. You never do. At least you have the pain and exhaustion and tumultuous emotions and your very nature to excuse your constant naps, constant sleeping during the day. They don’t need to know you’re not sleeping at night. They won’t care. They don’t care. None of them do. 

Fuck. Them. 

You want your phone, you want something to keep you occupied. It’s probably lying somewhere on the side of the road shattered beyond repair. That, or it’s back in the barracks. The barracks. Fuck that place. You’ll rip your hair out strand by strand if you have to go back there. It’s not safe, it’s not happy. There’s nothing good about that place anymore. 

It’s just a place of pain. You might as well have been tortured by Phil there. 

You were tortured there. 

It wasn’t a physical torture, but a mental one. The entire experiment was just torture for you. No one thought of you, no one cared about you. 

Dr. Keller cares. 

It’s her job to care. 

Still, you can’t hate her entirely. She’s the only one that understands. She’s the only one that can help. She’s the only one that’s been helping. Not just now, but back then. She cared, she fought for you, she did her best with what she had. Sure, she made mistakes, but so did you. She’s the only one you can forgive. 

She’s the only one you want to forgive. 

Fuck the others. Fuck your pack. Fuck those fucking soldiers who were never going to care about anyone but themselves, who were never going to care about anything but their jobs and their duties and the good of the world. 

You should have been their world. 

They couldn’t put you first. They wouldn’t put you first. They didn’t want to put you first. 

They won’t change. They can’t change. There’s no hope for change. 

You’ll just go back to the way things were before and be forced to pretend everything's okay and that you’re happy and fine and content. Were you ever really content or were you just trying to make the best of the situation? Were you deluding yourself into believing you loved them and cared about them and that they loved you and cared about you to numb the fact you knew deep down that they never would, that they never could. Were you deluding yourself into thinking everything was fine and dandy to hide the constant pain from the knowledge that you would never come first? 

The pain begins to burn in your chest again. It’s hot like acid, rising in your chest to your throat, threatening to choke you. It’s a deep pain, one nestled right in against your soul. Tears leak out of your eyes again as you squeeze them shut, pushing your right hand against your chest in an attempt to get it to pass. 

You thought you were dying the first time. 

You could only be so lucky. 

The bond. 

It’s trying to break, trying to sever itself, trying to free you from the constant pain, but it can’t. 

Maybe because deep down you don’t want it to. Maybe deep down you want to forgive them and move past all of this. Maybe you want things to go back to normal, even if normal means pain and distress and fear. Maybe you want to believe them that they’re finally going to put you first. 

‘Maybe’ is only a doorway to disappointment and pain. 

Fuck yourself. 

Fuck your omega. 

Fuck your pack. 

Hell, fuck Dr. Keller for not fighting harder, for not doing more. 

Fuck Graves and his haunting of your nightmares.

Fuck Kate for choosing you.

Fuck Shepherd for creating the initiative in the first place to try and cover his own ass. 

Fuck them all. 

You tug the blanket higher around yourself, rolling onto your right side. 

Fuck. Them. All. 

You don’t want him here. 

He does it now, usually in the mornings. 

You hate it. 

You like it. It’s nice. He’s the only one making an effort. 

He never says anything, surprisingly enough. It’s silent as he sits there, steaming cup of coffee in hand. Always coffee, never tea. He won’t sink that low. He brings you a cup, but you can never bring yourself to touch it. You feel like a mental patient stuck in a straight jacket. You could free yourself, but that would bring too much awareness, too many questions, too much pain. 

You don’t want to. 

So instead you sit there in silence, staring out at the sea. It’s so far away still, yet it’s right there. You can hear it and smell it and see it. 

The sea. 

They brought you to the sea. 

John remembered. He did it for you. 

The thought has something stirring in your chest, and it’s not pain or anger. 

You hate it. 

Johnny leans back in the chair, his eyes on the horizon like yours. He sits there in that chair every chance he gets, usually in the mornings when Dr. Keller takes time for herself and leaves one of them watching you through the sliding glass door. You do feel guilty for forcing so much on Dr. Keller’s shoulders, yet you need her. 

You’re not ready for the others yet, no matter how loudly your omega screams at you. 

You don’t want them. 

Fuck, you desperately need them. 

Your eyelids flutter frantically as you try to keep the tears at bay. You can’t cry. You can’t let him know how close you are to breaking down. You can’t. 

You can’t reach out. 

You can’t take his hand. 

How desperately you want to. 

You nearly breathe a sigh of relief when the sliding door opens, Dr. Keller’s soft footsteps crossing the wood planks of the porch. 

“Ready to go inside now?” She asks, pressing the back of her hand against your cheek. You don’t say anything, don’t react, frozen in fear of everything coming tumbling out in front of Johnny. “You’re getting cold.” 

Johnny glances your way and you immediately turn to look at Dr. Keller, scared to look him in the face. That desperate hold you have on the gaping wound in your abdomen will open and your guts will come spilling out like some gory scene in a horror movie. 

Disembowelment thanks to your own weakness. 

Dr. Keller holds the crutch out for you as you push yourself to stand. Your legs are strong enough you could probably walk without it, but it’s still nice to have it in case you get tired. 

If you fall, you’ll never get up again. 

It’s the weakness from your liquid diet over the past week and a half. The weakness of being unable to eat solid foods, to properly nourish. You’ve lost weight, your clothes hanging from your body in a way they never did before. You’ve lost the softness that marks you as an omega, but it feels fitting. You don’t feel like an omega anymore. 

You don’t feel like anything anymore. 

You’re fighting your instincts out of pain and suffering and stubbornness. You keep taping your omega’s mouth shut despite how loudly she screams at you. You don’t want your instincts. You don’t want that need. Eventually it has to go away. Eventually it has to recede and your omega has to go back into her cage and sleep. Eventually you can numb yourself to it and force it away forever. 

That will certainly make things easier. 

But will it make things better? 

No. Probably not. 

It’ll make things worse. 

But if it allows you to keep your distance, allows you to avoid them, you’ll risk it. You’d take numbness over anything right now. 

How you miss those long days of depression while they were away. How you took those days for granted. 

Who knew those hours spent worrying about them and their distance and what might happen to them would be for nothing? 

What you wouldn’t give for all of them to disappear right now. 

How badly it would destroy you. 

“She’s at war with herself. That instinctual need is screaming at her, but that emotional pain is keeping her shut away. If anyone is going to get through to her, it will probably be you.” 

“I can’t do that.” 

“Can’t or won’t?” 

Simon clenches his jaw as he stares at Christine. As much as he wants to hate the doctor and her ability to see straight through him, he can’t deny how necessary her presence has been. She’s the only one you tolerate, the only one you’ll let close. Without her you’d probably be rotting in bed, stuck and unable to do anything out of stubbornness. You won’t let them close, yet you need them close. 

You’re going to rip yourself in half, metaphorically and possibly even literally. 

He shakes that mental image from his mind. The horrifying images his mind has conjured up over the last few days have his stomach churning. Even his tea no longer looks appetizing. 

He put milk in it this time. Almost how he likes it. Almost how he wants it. 

“Johnny’s the one actually trying.” Simon says, staring across at her. She doesn’t shy from his gaze, doesn't even flinch. “You should talk to him.” 

“While I agree, reintroducing a beta from the pack is the first step, eventually she’s going to need an alpha.” Christine says. 

“She needs her alpha.” He argues. 

“She doesn’t want her alpha.” Christine counters. “He’s going to be the last she lets close, but she’s going to need some kind of stability.” 

“I can’t give her that.” 

“Can’t or won’t?” 

Simon clenches his hand around his mug, his knuckles going white. She’s infuriating, yet he can’t be mad at her. Not completely. The good she’s doing for you, for the pack, far outweighs his annoyance with the doctor. She’s right. He knows it deep down, but he can’t. He can’t do that, he can’t put you through that. He’s already done enough. He did his part, he faced his fears, he saved your life. That’s enough for him. It’s up to John now. 

John has to do the work to fix it. He broke it, it’s no one else’s job to fix it. 

“Maybe both.” Simon finally says, pushing himself up to stand. “It’s not my job to fix this.” 

He leaves his mug behind as he stalks out of the kitchen, heading for the front door. He can’t stand being in the house any longer, cooped up with the same five people. Four people and a ghost. 

He shakes his head, jogging down the steps into the gravel. He should go for a jog. A long jog. He could jog to town and back. That will clear his head. 

That’s a long jog.

If something happens while he’s away, he won’t get back in time. It’ll be his fault because he took the time to do something selfish. He can picture it, coming back to find five bodies laying in pools of blood, dead because he wasn’t there to help, because he wasn’t there to fight. 

It’s a ridiculous thought. There’s three other highly trained soldiers in the house. If anyone tried anything, they wouldn’t make it past the door. He can see it now, Price’s alpha coming out in a rage because someone dared try to enter and hurt his vulnerable omega. He’d probably win in a fight ten to one if that happened, and he has Kyle and Johnny to back him up. Christine would take you and run the first chance she could. She wouldn’t let anything happen to you. Not again. 

Still, he can’t shake that fear. If he can’t sprint back, then it's too far. If it will leave the pack too vulnerable, he can’t. 

To the beach and back, then. 

She’s like an angel. 

The soft sunlight streaming through the clouds makes her glow. You wouldn’t be surprised if the sun was shining just for her, sending down a beam just to illuminate just how ethereal she is. 

The Garrick beauty is genetic. 

Kyle is beautiful in terms of a man. He shares the same ethereal glow as his sister, but Ashley? You don’t feel worthy of looking upon her. 

“Kyle never mentioned an omega, but then again, he never says much about his job.” She gives another dazzling smile, your heart rate picking up just slightly. “Can’t, I should say. You haven’t been with them long, huh.” 

“About nine months.” You say, your voice still a bit hoarse. It’s not quite healed yet. It might be that way forever. 

“Such a short amount of time to go through so much.” She says, giving you a soft, sympathetic look. You don’t know how much she knows, though it’s still fairly obvious you’ve been through hell. That you’re still going through hell. “Christine told me a bit about what happened. I don’t blame you one bit for being upset at them. I would have left them, but I know. In a perfect world, right?” 

You make a quiet sound. Indeed in a perfect world where omegas have rights and can make their own decisions and could leave and have support in doing so. You’d leave with Dr. Keller or even Ashley, even though you’ve only known her for ten minutes. She has the same magnetic energy as Kyle, so much so you don’t mind the way the scent blockers burn your nose. She probably smells like something warm and soft, something comforting. 

“So, tell me about yourself. What do you like to do?” She says, settling in the chair. It’s cool outside, but she doesn’t seem bothered by it one bit. 

You scramble for something, anything. What is it you like to do? What are your hobbies? You’re drawing a blank, your mind searching through its filing cabinets to find where you shoved all the things you like to do. 

“I like to read.” You finally say, remembering the stack of untouched books on the dresser across from the bed. 

“Oh? What do you like to read?” She asks. 

What do you like to read? What is a genre? What are books? 

“Oh, I read anything, as long as it’s interesting.” Is that the truth? You’re not quite sure. 

“I see, I see. Well, there’s quite the collection on those shelves inside. I’m a reader too. Read through those entire shelves over the years.” She grins at you. “We could do a little book club, if you’d like. Read some books and talk about them over some tea. We could get Christine in on it too. Have a little thing just for us girls.” 

You nod, staring at her in awe. This is the first time someone outside of your little circle has offered to do anything with you, for you. 

You want to do it. 

You want to spend time with someone who isn’t your pack, who isn’t Dr. Keller. 

“Okay.” You say, still staring at her in awe. 

“I could come over on the weekends, or we could do a call if you’re not up to seeing anyone.” She continues, and you’re not sure if she made this plan before she came, or if she’s coming up with it on the spot. Regardless, you're still impressed by her and her dedication to a complete stranger. 

“Would...would that be too much?” You ask, your brain starting to wake up again, the wires connecting once more. 

“Not at all.” She shakes her head. “I live and work in Exeter, so I’m not too terribly far away.” 

You’re not sure where Exeter is off the top of your head. Your mental map isn’t even sure how far away London is...or even where you are on a map of England. Are you even in England right now? 

“What do you do for work?” You ask, realizing you’ve been silent for an awkward amount of time. 

“I’m a finance lawyer.” She says. “Mum used to say ‘you love to argue so much, you should become a lawyer.’” She laughs. “So I did.” 

“You must make a lot of money.” You say. You don’t know how much lawyers make in England relative to the US. 

“I make enough to be comfortable.” She says. Enough to travel back and forth every weekend. “Seriously, though, if you need or want anything, let me know. I’m more than happy to come sit with you and give you a break from those stinky men.” 

You’re not quite sure what happens to your face. It contorts, muscles shaking off the dust and starting to move before you even realize it. Your lips are tilting upwards instead of downwards. Something is happening. Something that feels good, something that you’ve been missing. 

You’re smiling. 

You’re smiling. You haven’t smiled in a long time. Weeks. Not since the cameras. Not since your pack left. You haven’t felt like smiling in so long you’re certain you forgot how to. But yet, here you are, smiling at Ashley. It’s not a genuine smile, one that crinkles your eyes and shows joy, but it’s a smile. It almost hurts your face after so long. 

She’s funny too. 

Stinky men. 

They are that. 

Your smile falls as soon as the sliding glass door opens, your head whipping around to look. Ashley turns to look too, perhaps out of instinct at your sudden movement. 

You’re half expecting it to be one of the guys, maybe Kyle out to ruin the moment, but it’s only Dr. Keller. 

“How are things going?” She asks, stepping up beside you. 

“Good.” Ashley says. “We’re planning a book club.” 

“Oh?” Dr. Keller raises a brow, looking between you. “I think that would be fantastic.” 

“You’re welcome to join in if you’d like,” Ashley says, giving Dr. Keller a smile. 

You stare up at Dr. Keller, watching the way her lips turn up a smile, her eyes shining with...something. Her hands open and close, tugging at her pants almost nervously. Your brows raise as you look back up at her face. She almost looks...flustered. 

Oh. 

Another grin forms on your face as you stare between them, Ashley still smiling and Dr. Keller still looking a bit flustered. 

Oh. 

“You could join us if you want.” You say slowly, still looking up at Dr. Keller. 

She seems to snap out of her daze, her gaze darting down to you. She gives you a soft smile, back to her composed, professional self. “If that’s what you’d like.” 

You nod. Even though you see her constantly every day, you’re not tired of her existence yet. She’s the only one whose existence in the house doesn’t make you want to gouge your eyes out, the only one you want to talk to, to see, to have around. If you had the choice, you’d be here alone with her. 

That’s not possible. You know it’s not. 

“A thing for just us girls.” Ashley says. “On the weekends. No pressure whatsoever.” 

“I think that would be fantastic.” Dr. Keller says. “A nice little distraction.” 

“A nice break from those stinky men.” You say. 

Both Dr. Keller and Ashley erupt in laughter. 

Another smile tugs at your lips. 

You don’t want to be here. You can feel him staring at you from behind. He hasn’t moved since Dr. Keller left, still just standing there like he’s not sure he can approach you or not. You hope he doesn’t. You want him to. 

You don’t say anything, still staring out at the ocean, but you can see him reflected in the glass, obscuring your view of the horizon. Hatred burns inside of you as you have no choice but to stare at him, even when you’re trying not to. He’s like a ghost, always haunting you. He always will be. 

“I didn’t want to try to rush into this.” He finally says, knowing you’re not going to say anything. You won’t greet him, welcome him into your space. It already feels like an intrusion into your safety, him being here. 

Is this becoming a safe space? A nest? No, not that far. It’s becoming sacred to you, though, and having him in it without invitation feels wrong. It makes you uncomfortable. 

You hate it. 

“But I just wanted you to know that we’re all feeling the weight of what we did, I’m feeling the weight of what I decided to do. We all feel guilty for putting you through that, for forcing you to endure things you never should have.” 

He swallows thickly, falling silent for a moment. You almost feel like laughing at his attempt at an apology, another attempt at an apology. Why is he even bothering? He knows you won’t forgive him. He’s probably doing it for himself again, to make himself feel better. 

“I know it’s not an ideal situation, being forced in such a small space together, but we all wanted you to know that you’re the one setting the boundaries. If you don’t want us to be somewhere or do something, then you can tell us, or have Christine tell us. If you don’t want to see us at all, we can make our best attempts at that.” 

“That would be ideal.” You say, breaking the silence you’ve held for days. It’s the first time you’ve spoken to him since the hospital, since his first sad attempt at an apology. 

It shocks him to stillness and silence. 

The words hurt, burning your throat like acid as you stare at his reflection in the glass. You hate it, how pathetic he looks standing there. Where’s the big, tough alpha? Where’s the strong protector? Where’s the person that’s supposed to take care of you and care about you? 

He never existed. 

He left you behind. 

He never cared. 

Anger begins to bubble within you. 

“I’m sorry.” He says, his voice shaking. “I never meant for this to happen-”

“You think your sad attempts at apologies are going to work?” You hiss at him through your teeth. You push yourself to stand, turning to face him. “You left me. You fucking left me there knowing full well what was going to happen!” You’re shouting now. All the quiet movements on the other side of the wall in the main area stop. 

They’re all listening. 

It’s not like you’re giving them much of a choice not to. 

Fuck them.

“I know,” He says, his eyes wide as he stares at you. 

“Do you? Do you know?” Your voice is wavering, your throat starting to ache but you can’t stop. Not now. It’s all coming out and there’s no stopping it. “You. Left. Me. You willingly turned your back on me time and time again even when I was being tortured! You leaving was torture enough and you still chose me second. I’ve always been second. I’ve never mattered enough for you to even question anything!” 

You let out a sob, the sound cracking in your throat. It hurts, but it will always hurt. You’ll always carry this hurt with you, so you want him to hurt too. 

“I asked you once if you would ever leave for me. You said if things got dangerous, if my life were ever at risk because of you, you’d leave in a heartbeat.” The tears are falling, streaming down your face. “Was that a lie?” 

He doesn’t say anything. He just stands there, staring at you. Does he even remember that conversation? 

“Was that a lie?” You shout, making him jump. 

His eyes drop to the floor, his scent souring. Good, you think. Let it hurt. 

“Answer me.” You say, pushing him to give some response to your question. You need to know. You need him to say it. 

“I didn’t intend for it to be.” He says quietly. 

“You didn’t intend for it to be.” You say, bitterness coating your tone. “What the fuck does that mean? You said you wouldn’t let me go even if the initiative failed. Was that a lie too? Was it all a lie to keep me happy and complacent? ‘The job always comes first,’ even when my life is in danger, right? The job always comes first over everything, even me. You lied to me.” You swallow the sob threatening to come up. “I want to hear you say it.” 

He stands there, tears brimming in his eyes. He hasn’t moved hardly a muscle, still frozen like a statue. 

“Say it!” You scream at him, your throat tearing around the words. You’re surprised you’re not tasting blood yet from how raw it feels. 

“I lied.” He says, swallowing thickly. “I lied to you and I couldn’t keep my promise. And I’m sorry-” 

“Don’t apologize.” You cut him off starting to pace as the anger burns hot in you. “Don’t you fucking apologize to me, you don’t deserve to apologize. You don’t deserve the chance at forgiveness. You’re a shitty alpha and you always have been!” 

You let out a sob, wiping at the tears streaming down your face. There’s a tear sliding down his cheek, and it brings you some sort of relief deep down. So he can feel things after all. 

“I don’t know what I expected, though.” You let out a sardonic laugh. “You military men are all the same. It’s always about the job and the image and the ‘greater good’ and making sacrifices, even if that means sacrificing your pack. You’re just like my dad. You never wanted an omega, you never wanted me. You cast me out and let me suffer when I needed you most.” 

The anger burns hot in you again, shooting through your veins until it’s choking you as you stare at him standing there pathetically. He thought he could apologize, he thought his groveling would mean anything to you. Fuck him. Fuck them all. 

“You left me.” You grit out, your hands starting to shake. “You left me! You abandoned me, you let me get hurt! You didn’t care, you never cared about me!” You storm over to him. “Fuck you!” You scream, hitting his chest. “I fucking hate you!” You shove him back, sending him stumbling. “Get out!” You shove him again, pushing him back towards the door. “Get out! I never want to see you again!” 

He stumbles back out of the door and you slam it in his face so hard it shakes on its hinges. You click the lock as you sob in pain, pain both physical and emotional. Your chest aches, a tearing feeling burning through it. 

The bond. 

You don’t care. You don’t give a fuck anymore. You hate him, you hate them all. 

The tears and sobs threaten to choke you but you don’t care. You don’t care anymore. You don’t care about anything anymore except the anger burning hot through you, making your hands shake. Your legs give out and you slide to the floor against the door, sliding until you’re laying down on your back on the hardwood. It’s cold against your skin but you don’t care. You can’t care anymore. 

If you fall, you’ll never get up again. 

John stares at the wood in shock. The slam of the door still echoes in his ears as he stands there, frozen. He knew the chance of a negative reaction was high, but something like that? Something to that magnitude? 

Your words cut into him like a knife, searing his skin and leaving blisters behind. 

Hands push him out of the way. He stumbles to the side, his brain still catching up to his body. 

“Sweetie, I need you to open the door.” 

The words are muffled from the ringing in his ears, the ringing of your screams as you cursed his very being. 

Liar. 

His legs are shaking as he turns, his body moving automatically towards the door. The other three members of his pack are frozen, watching him as he crosses the living room, as he wraps his fingers around the handle of the sliding glass door, as he pushes it open just wide enough to slip through. 

The thud of it closing feels like a seal being stamped. He’s cut himself off, fraying that bond forever. 

Your words still ring in his head as he stands in the middle of the porch numbly. 

Liar. 

He is a liar. He made a lot of promises that he couldn’t keep, promises that he broke because of his decisions. He should have made you feel comfortable enough to reveal those cameras right away. He should have gotten you off base as soon as you revealed them. He should have never trusted Shepherd, or even Kate in that moment. He should have fought harder, he should have sent you away from base as soon as he made that decision to leave. 

So many things he should have done differently. 

You can’t change the past. 

Liar. 

He left you when you needed him most. He proved time and time again that he’d always choose the job over you, no matter what he promised. You’re not a soldier. No matter how much he tried to prepare you, train you, you’d never be able to fight like them. 

Not without taking drastic measures. 

He saw the blood. He saw the bodies. He saw the proof of an omega pushed too far, an omega forced into its primordial state. 

You did it because they left you. 

You did it because you thought the abandoned you. 

Those words ring out the loudest in his mind. Above all the others those words linger, replaying over and over again. 

‘You let me be tortured.’

Christ. 

He runs a hand over his face, the realization shocking him as a cold chill settles under his skin. There’s a weight dropping in his stomach, threatening to sink him straight through the planks of the porch and into the ground below. 

You think they left you. 

He turns on his heel, shocked to find Simon standing behind him. He can’t read his face, hidden behind the mask that hasn’t come off since they arrived at the cottage. He doesn’t need to see his face to read the giant alpha. He’s known Simon long enough to be able to read him just based on his body language. 

He’s angry, frustrated. John half expects him to start yelling too, but that’s never been Simon’s style. He only gets loud when he needs to. Instead he’ll stew and glare and darken the room with his rage. The target of his anger will feel it and know, and that’s almost worse than if he’d express that anger through words. 

Despite the cold chill of Simon’s stare, John’s mind is reeling too much to care. It all makes sense now. Your distance, your turmoil, your own anger. 

“She thinks we left her.” The words come tumbling out before he can stop them. 

“We did.” Simon says, the words short and sharp. 

“No, no,” John shakes his head. “She thinks we left her with Graves.” 

Simon shifts on his feet, the planks of the porch creaking under his weight. 

“Of course Graves would fuck with her head, make her feel like she had been abandoned. It was never about following orders for him. He would have tortured her no matter what.” Anger burns hot in John, at himself, at Graves. Of course you’d assume the worst, of course you’d believe Graves because he was playing on your own doubts. 

They left you so easily at the barracks, of course they’d leave you to be tortured. 

“She’ll never believe you.” Simon says. The squaring of his shoulders has deflated a bit. 

“No, she won’t.” John shifts on his feet, staring straight at Simon. “But I’m not going to be the one to tell her.” 

Her hand presses against your forehead, wiping some of the sweat beading on your skin. Despite your shivers, you’re burning hot. A fever. You worked yourself up too much earlier in your outburst. She had been proud of you for finally releasing some of it and showing some emotion, but she knew the consequences of getting so worked up would be high. Your omega is still unstable, on top of still trying to physically recover. You hurt yourself doing that, even if it was necessary. 

She shushes you as you whine, fingers grasping at the blanket clumsily. She pulls it higher over you, your body shuddering underneath the pile already stacked on top of you. She’d put every blanket she could find over you, and yet you still shiver. Worry floods her again as she stares down at you, your eyes pinched closed. You must be aching, your show of anger taking its toll. 

It was necessary, but at what cost? 

If your temperature continues to spike, the risk of distress heightens. You can’t handle distress in your current state, which would mean your omega would come out, finally be freed again from the unprotected cage it's been pushed back into. If your omega comes out, that will require John to help, which may only drive you further into distress. 

She needs to try and stop this before the situation continues to deteriorate. 

But how? 

How can she move you past this without the help of your pack? She can’t give you the comfort you need. Medicine or any therapeutic methods can help solve the issue at its core. Sure she can try and lower your fever with medicine, but you need your pack. You need that comfort and stability that only they can offer. 

You need someone, and it can’t be her. 

If your omega comes back out, they might never be able to get it back in. It’ll be the end of you. All of your recovery, the fight you’ve put up against your body and your instincts and your mind will have been for nothing. 

You need someone. 

An idea begins to form in her head, her hand resting against your forehead. It’s hot under her hand, your skin burning. You might hate her later for this. It’s risky, but sometimes risks have to be taken in dire situations. Sometimes those risks pan out in the end. What will happen if it fails? The inevitable that’s going to happen if she doesn’t try. It’s a lose-lose situation, but if it works, it could be a win-win. 

She can’t help you, but maybe she has someone who can. 

She tucks the blankets around you, cocooning you in an attempt to keep you warm and still while she steps away. She won’t be gone long.  

She leaves your door cracked open just in case, even though she doubts you’ll be moving much while she’s away. 

Just in case. 

One can never be too careful. 

She heads up the stairs quietly, going slow to avoid startling any of them. She’s intruding on the safe space they’ve made in their solitude. It feels like invading sacred grounds, but it's a necessary invasion. Their omega is in danger. They’ll forgive her. 

The bathroom door is closed at the end of the short hallway, a light on inside. The lights are on in both rooms too, glowing beneath both doors, and she takes a gamble. Based on the heaviness of the footsteps above the kitchen she can guess the room on the right is the one Simon and Johnny are staying in. If she’s wrong, she’ll have some explaining to do before she’s ready, and she knows John will have his thoughts about this. Though, with what happened earlier, perhaps he’ll agree. You won’t see him, but maybe...just maybe... 

She lets out a deep breath before knocking firmly, waiting a breath before she calls out.  

“Johnny, I need your help.”

She just hopes you don’t hate her too much later. 

NEXT ->

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[moody-alcoholic]

These Violent Delights

Chapter 2 - Show Me This Life

Summary: Poly 141 x fem!reader, a/b/o alternate universe. 7.5k words. You’re trying to learn more about yourself and the people around you, which is easier said then done, especially now you’re moving across the country. At least you can trust them right..?

CW: a/b/o alternative universe, a/b/o dynamics, typical a/b/o universe tropes (scenting), talking about periods, alcohol, language, mentions of past abuse, nightmares, angst.

Previous - masterlist - next AO3

Enjoy <3

“Professor?” He’s not listening to the downright annoying voice behind him. His hands balled in fists as he looks at the broken earth. They came as quickly as they left. He sniffs the air. 4 of them, all men, and the omega she’s gone too. He can’t smell her death in the air. There is no point in a clean up effort, even if there was it could take months. The omega is gone. That’s his priority, to find her and take her back. 

“Professor?” 

“What!?” He snaps turning round to see Miles stood behind him gripping a tablet. He watches the alphas eyes dilate as the scent of anger fills the air. He doesn’t want to see him right now, or anyone. He wants his omega.

“It was the CIA.” He says reaching out with a tablet. The professor grabs it out his hand looking at the profile. 

“Who is she?” His voice still filled with anger. He needs answers, he sees the name Kate Laswell. It doesn’t ring a bell. 

“I’m not sure we’re working on it.” He says. Pathetic. Useless. 

“Get out of my sight!” He shouts, thrusting the tablet in the man's hands. He turns back around as the first drops of rain are starting to fall. Now the place will be flooded too. The smell of death hangs heavy in the air. He closes his eyes breathing it in. It’s metallic, harsh, he can taste it in the air. He wonders if any of it is her blood. Her scent is fading with each gust of wind.  

Kate Laswell.

The name spins round in his head. How did the CIA find out? He thinks back to the visitors he’s had over the past few months. It could have been any of them. He’s just come back from DC to secure more funding, what was he going to tell them now? The lab is destroyed and the omega gone. His phone buzzes in his pocket. He wants to ignore it throw it into the sinking earth and forget about it. He lets it ring out watching the sky darken as heavier clouds move in, he can feel the electricity in the air making the hairs stand up on the back of his neck. 

How dare they take his omega.

Johnny comes to see you after breakfast. He always looks so cheerful, beaming as he comes over. 

“‘Mornin lass sleep well?” he asks 

“Yeah.” You reply, you had good dreams again, Dr. Piper was there too.

“Wanna go for a walk? Thought you could use a change of scenery.” He winks at you. You nod almost too enthusiastically, swinging your legs out the bed. He brings over your slippers and a dressing gown. You put them on following him out the room. He loops his arm in yours leading you out the ward and towards another building. You enjoy the fresh air and the sun on your face.  

“What’s Dr. Piper doing?” You ask, stopping to look through a door window. 

“She’s been teaching us all about you, and us I guess now we’re all in the same boat.” He says, as she’s sat typing on a laptop. John and Kate must trust her enough to give her access to a laptop, that makes you smile. 

“Think I could join?” You ask. 

“I don’t see why not, but what do you need to know about yourself?” He chuckles. You’d be surprised. You walk through the door. Piper's head looks round from the laptop and she smiles. 

“Hey, how are you feeling?” She asks. 

“Fine, I would like to get out of the hospital.” You say smiling, she nods looking past you at Johnny. 

“I heard you’ve been teaching them.” You say. 

“Yes, as much as I can. I’ve been helping Kate go over the research they took from the lab.” You don’t know why that makes you swallow hard. 

“Can I join? I’d like to know more about what was going on.” You say trying not to sound nervous. She smiles. 

“Cause you can, although some things you might already know.” She says. 

“What are you talking about today?”

“Scenting, hopefully, maybe get the alpha’s to control their scent more.” 

“That would be nice.” You say before you can stop yourself. She smiles as you hear the door behind you open. The scent of alpha fills the air. It’s not John though the presence is darker. It’s Simon. The hairs stand up on the back of your neck, you’re too scared to turn, you don’t want to turn. You look at Piper, she looks sympathetically, she wont project her scent onto you, you know that. They need to get used to you and you used to them. Besides, one of them might be claiming you next month.   

“Where have you been hiding, ey?” You hear Johnny say.

“None of your business sergeant.” A gruff voice comes back. You slip down into a seat not taking your eyes off Piper. You hear a chair scrape back as Johnny sit’s down talking with him. It’s a few minutes later when you hear John and Gaz arrive. Kyle you learned his name, but he likes to be called Gaz. The smell of John’s alpha washes over you, it’s more calming then the other man, even Piper can feel it. 

“Hey, how are you feeling?” Gaz asks you as he sits next to you. 

“Fine.” You say smiling at him. You look back over at Piper as she begins her lesson. 

A lot of the information you already know, how scent works, where it comes from. Alpha’s have the strongest scent but also have the hardest time controlling it. Betas are very good at controlling scent and masking, it’s common for beta’s to use their scent to calm alphas and omegas. Omegas are the best at detecting scent, it’s a defense mechanism at the end of the day. Being able to smell the threat before it’s right next to you.

“You’ve all scented the omega, what about each other.” She says stepping to the side. “Any volunteers.” You almost step up automatically but instead it’s John who steps up. Piper walks around him. 

“Kyle.” She motions at him, he steps up. 

“Stretch your neck your, your hormones will do the rest. Remember the scent comes from the back of your neck.” She explains. You watch as Price bears his neck towards Gaz. His nostrils flare as he breathes the scent in. The scent of his alpha fills the room, you can see Gaz wobble as he breathes it in. It makes you chuckle, the memory of new betas passing out after scenting you or an alpha. Doctor Piper moves to pull Gaz away and she helps him back to a seat. He looks out of it, and John won’t be the only alpha he has to scent today.

“Who’s next?” She asks the room, her eyes landing on you for a second. You get up walking over to him. You’ve only ever scented one alpha before. The professor, John’s scent is already overwhelming enough. You get up going towards him, he smiles at you, it helps put you at ease as you reach up. He’s taller then you and you have to step up on your toes. 

“Scenting each other is important for packs, once each member has gone through the process of projecting their scent onto one another it creates a bond between you all.” She explains. A pack. You never thought you could be part of a pack before. You close your eyes leaning in to scent him. 

“The ground after rain.” He says quietly as his scent fills your nose. You slowly open your eyes, your mouth hanging open, pupils dilated.

The ground after rain and smoke, that’s John’s scent.

You smile at him, you don’t need Piper's help to get back to your seat. John’s eyes stay on you as you sit down.

The next few minutes you’re blissed out enjoying the alpha’s scent, it’s calming, safe. It’s only when John’s finished you start paying attention. The two beta’s go next if not just to give you all a break. It’s followed by an explanation of masking, the ability to hide your scent, betas are the best at it. You feel the energy in the room change when Simon eventually walks next to Piper. 

“Two alpha’s in a pack is unusual, doesn’t mean it cannot work though.” She says, you can tell she doesn’t seem that confident. John goes first then Gaz and Johnny. It’s only you left. You get out your chair walking over to him slowly. His scent is strong, he looks down at you through his mask as you tip your head up to him. He bares his scent for you. The ground after rain and something you can’t name, it’s metallic, it makes a lump form in your throat.  

You back up from him, he’s not as scary as he seems now. He makes your head spin as he turns to look at you, his eyes meeting yours. He has dark brown eyes, you let out a breath, smiling at him. You feel Pipers hand on your arm. Goosebumps rise on the back of your neck. You turn going back over to your seat. 

“Okay, that wasn’t so bad.” Piper continues as she presses her hands together. “The calmer you are, the less prominent your scent is. If you’re stressed or upset you’ll have a harder time controlling it.” You look over at Simon, he sat down next to John instead of going to the back of the room.

You stop listening to Piper, keeping your eyes on him. What was the other smell, the ground after rain, something else, thick and heavy, harsh as it hit your nose. You flare your nostrils trying to breath him in but you can’t smell him anymore. 

Dr. Piper talks about masking and how to spot it. She says as soon as there is a beta specialist here, they will be able to help them more, she can only do so much. You know from your own experience that a lot of things are just instinct. The last thing she talks about is scruffing.

A pit forms in your stomach, you’ve never had good experience with that. That’s the point though you’re not supposed to. You remember back in the bunker, the professor would sometimes do it for no reason, sometimes for hours on end. Your hand goes up to the back of your neck. 

“For alpha’s and beta’s it’ll just feel like someone has jolted you, or hit you hard in the back of the neck, it’s painful. For omega’s it’s completely immobilising. It’s only to be used in extreme situations, I personally would argue there should never be a reason to do it. There are less invasive ways to subdue someone without resorting to scruffing.” She looks round the room, her eyes landing on you. You would happily go the rest of your life without being scruffed again. 

The door to the room opens and you turn to see Kate walk in with a tablet in her hand. Dr. Piper wraps up her speech moving back over to her laptop as Kate walks up to hand the tablet to John. You’re watching them as you hear Johnny move to sit next to you wrapping his arm around your shoulders. 

“So what do I smell like?” He asks. You smile, breathing him in. 

“You smell like clean sheets, straight out the dryer.” You say. 

“That’s boring, anything else?”  He asks huffing. 

“It’s a good smell, a nice smell, safe.” You reply smiling. You’ve always felt safe around betas. You both watch as John get’s up pressing something on the tablet. 

“We’re going to be moving to Washington.” 

“DC?” Johnny asks. 

“The state.” John says.

“Lot’s of rain, you'll be right at home.” Kate says. Dr. Piper looks over from the laptop. You watch her eyes flick between Kate and John. 

“I’m sure it won’t take you long to pack?” He asks looking round the room. Johnny and Gaz are already on their feet. 

“C’mon love, I’ll take you back.” Johnny says holding his hand out for you. 

“It’s okay, i’ve got it.” Dr. Piper says smiling. Johnny winks at you before he leaves with Gaz. You’re not sure what all the winking is about, but it makes you smile, heat rushing to your cheeks. Once the room is empty Dr. Piper comes to sit next to you. She rests her hand on your thigh. 

“I have some clothes for you so you’re not suck wearing hospital scrubs all the time.” You smile at her nodding.

“You did well today, you should be proud of yourself.” She says squeezing your leg. 

“Simon is intimidating.” You admit still thinking about his scent, the scent you can’t place. 

“He’s an alpha, you’ll get used to him.” She says standing up. 

“Let’s go get you changed and something to eat before we leave.” She holds her hand out for you. You take it as she picks the laptop up. 

“You’ll like Washington.” She says. “It’s by the ocean, lots of evergreen forests and sea air.” You smile at her, that does sound nice. 

You’ve never been on a plane before. It’s massive, bigger then you expected, it’s a cargo plane. You can’t help staring at it in awe, you watch soldiers driving crates up into it. You see Kate and John talking outside the ramp of the plane you stick close to Dr. Piper letting her lead you up to them. Kate turns to look at you. 

“It was nice to meet you, I’m sure we will see each other again at some point.” Kate says, reaching her hand out. 

“You’re not coming with us?” You ask, she shakes her head. 

“No, I'm needed elsewhere, I’ll be in touch though.” She smiles. You feel sad she’s leaving at least you had one other woman around. Piper’s hand presses on your back leading you into the plane. You’re looking all over the place, something always pulling your eyes in a new direction. Piper walks you to the front of the plane through a door into a room with what you recognise as ‘normal’ seating. Johnny and Gaz are already sat down talking. 

“Hey lass come sit with us! We’ll let you have the window seat!” Johnny calls waving at you. You turn to Dr. Piper who nods at you smiling. Johnny and Gaz move, letting you sit by the window. 

“Excited?” Johnny asks, sitting back down next to you. 

“Nervous, I’ve never been on a plane before. Does it go fast?” You ask. Gaz chuckles. 

“Oh yeah, like hundreds of miles an hour.” He says nodding. You swallow looking back out the window. You can see people walking around, driving around in strange looking vehicles. 

“How long will it take?”

“About 4 hours.” Johnny says. You look back over at them, looking past Johnny at Gaz. His head is turned away from you as he looks out the window in the other aisle. 

“You know I had an aunt who was afraid of flying.” Johnny says. You turn to frown at him. 

“I’m not scared.” You say. Johnny smiles. 

“Well if you do get scared you can hold my hand.” Johnny winks. 

“Christ.” You hear Gaz chuckle. You hear the door open and see John and Simon walking in taking seats behind you. 

“LT’s scared of heights.” Johnny says nudging you. You hear him sigh behind you. You can tell it’s not true but you smile anyway, you know he’s just trying to put you at ease. You watch out the window as you hear all kinds of banging and new noises. When the plane starts to roll back you feel strangely nervous. You can tell Johnny picks up on it nudging you to pull your attention to him. 

“This is the best part you know.” He says putting his hand out palm up, you lace your fingers with his without thinking. He gives your hand a squeeze as the plane turns. You hear the engines start then before you know it the plane is barrelling down the runway. You squeeze Johnny’s hand way too tight until you feel the plane lift off the ground. As soon as that happens you relax. 

“See, not so bad.” Johnny says nudging you. You nod at him before looking back out the window, watching the ground get further and further away. You watch the plane go through the clouds as it turns, making your stomach drop. You squeeze Johnny’s hand tighter, there’s a quick stabbing pain in your side as you rearrange your position. 

“Do you have any family?” You ask Johnny without looking away from the window. 

“Yeah, you?” You weren't expecting him to ask you. You turn to him, pulling your hand out his. 

“I don’t remember my dad. My mum liked to bake, I have this memory of her. It was a sunny day, she always smelled of apple’s or cinnamon.” He has a sad look in his eyes. You don’t want him feeling sorry for you. You look back out the window. 

“What happened to them?” Johnny asks. 

“They died.” You say. There’s another scent in the air, it makes the hairs stand up on the back of your neck. You know that scent, it’s Simon. 

When you land, you travel a few hours on the road to get to the base. The whole place is surrounded by dense woodland. It makes you happy seeing so much nature. It's an army base but it's deep in the forest. You saw the ocean Dr. Piper was talking about while the plane was landing.

You've never seen an ocean before.

When you get into the barracks the smell of fresh paint hits your nose. The walls are bare and tall, there are windows with grates over them. You’re walking into a sparsely furnished living room, a sofa, a dining table and chairs. There’s a TV, you’ve not seen one of those in years. A kitchen in the corner, it’s only a small with a sink, fridge and oven. 

Apparently this building is just for you and them, the people who saved you. 141, you've heard people call them.

“Ooo, fancy.” Johnny says as he comes in behind you throwing his bag down. You move to let the rest of them come in. Fluorescent lights flicker on and you walk in looking round. There’s a corridor that leads to an emergency exit. 

“I call the biggest room.” Johnny calls from behind you. 

“You can’t just call a room.” Gaz says. 

“Yeah, says who?” Johnny asks going over to the sofa with Gaz following after him. John’s hand comes to rest on your shoulder. 

“Why don’t you go pick first?” He says watching Gaz look inside the kettle. You turn to look at him as he moves his hand. He nods you in the direction of the hallway. You smile at him and head down. 

The first two rooms are an office and what looks like a shared bathroom. You continue down to the next two rooms. They’re both bedrooms, they’re pretty much identical, a bed, a wardrobe and a desk. You keep going all the way to the end of the hallway, there are 6 rooms 3 on each side. You find yourself at the last room to the left. It has a massive window looking out over a field, you can see the walls of the base. 

You walk in the room running your fingers over the desk. It’s bigger then any room you’ve ever had before. You look in the distance through the window, you can see trees, more trees then you’ve ever seen. You're surrounded by an evergreen forest. It makes you happy, maybe you could convince John to let you explore it one day. You lift the handle on the window. It only opens a small amount but you can smell the fresh air, hear the trees swaying in the wind. This is your room. 

“What do you think?” You turn to look at Dr. Piper standing in the doorway. You smile going over to her. 

“I like it.” You say. 

“Wait till you see the lab they’ve got ready for me.” She smiles. You close the door behind you as you leave, locking it and pulling the key out. You look at the room opposite you, Dr. Piper's bag is already on the bed. You’re happy she’s going to be close to you. You make your way back down to the common room where you can hear laughing and talking. It makes you smile. You haven’t been in an environment like this before. 

“Tea?” Gaz asks from the tiny kitchen. You blink at him, looking as he stands there with mugs in his hand. 

“I’ve never had tea before.” You say walking over to him. 

“Want to try it?” He asks, you look at the bags in the cups as he pours the water in. The smell fills your nose, it's herbal. You nod watching him spoon sugar into some of the cups. He pushes one towards you then reaches into the fridge taking out some milk. You hear the door to the building open turning to see Simon walk in. He walks over to Piper and hands her something. She thanks him as he walks away. His eyes meet yours and you smile at him. You wish you could see if he was smiling back. At least he’s not sending shivers up your spine any more. 

“Want to come see the lab?” Piper asks coming back over to you. Gaz pushes a mug in your hands. You shake your head. 

“I’m going to try tea.” You say smiling and following Gaz over to the sofa. Piper smiles. 

“I’ll see you in a bit then.” She nods at you heading out. You sit down on one of the sofa chairs. 

“This is rubbish, all these channels are American, how are we supposed to watch the footy now?” Johnny says as you watch him flick through the channels. You warm your hands on the mug pulling your legs up onto the chair. You blow on the tea waiting for it to cool, Johnny lands on a news channel. You watch it mesmerised by what’s happening. You get distracted by John coming out of the office, he walks over to pick up a mug and comes over to see what’s on the TV. 

“What do you think?” He asks looking at you, you look confused for a second then you remember the tea. You bring it up and take a sip. It’s warm and milky, you can’t place the flavor but it’s sweet. You nod at him and he smiles. 

“Where did Dr. Montgomery go?” He asks. 

“She went to the lab.” Johnny says without looking up from the remote. You take another sip of the tea, your stomach growls and you realise how hungry you are. John checks his watch. 

“You should all get something to eat before the mess closes.” Johnny jumps up off the sofa while Gaz downs the rest of the tea. You place your half drunk cup on the coffee table with the others. 

“C’mon lass before they eat all the cake.” You smile at that. 

“Is there really going to be cake?” You hear John laugh as Johnny throws his arm over your shoulder. When you get to the dining hall there are still a few people hanging out. You pick up a tray following Johnny and Gaz’s lead. You see foods you’ve never seen before you want to try everything. Johnny recommends things and you end up with two plates of food. And 2 servings of chocolate pudding which you end up eating first. Johnny and Gaz chuckle at you while you go round your plates trying a little of everything until you’re full. 

You eat so much you feel like you can’t move when you’re done. Johnny steals one of your plates to finish off your mash. You lean back wondering why you’re so hungry, you count in your head again. It’s definitely not your heat. There’s the stabbing pain again. It’s not in your side anymore it’s in your abdomen. 

Shit. It’s already the end of the month, your period should be any day now.

You sigh, you’ll need to tell Piper and ask her for a mattress protector. You don’t think John would be happy if you ruined the bed on the first night. You listen to Johnny and Gaz talking about past missions. You can’t help but catch people looking at you. It makes you feel self-conscious, you feel like Johnny and Gaz can pick up on it too because before they start a new anecdote they decide to leave. 

It’s late evening as you’re leaving the mess hall with Gaz. Johnny said he needed to ‘hit the gym’ so you were left alone with Gaz. You don’t mind, following him as he leads you across the grounds back towards the barracks. 

“Do you have a family?” You ask him trying to distract yourself. 

“Yeah, a big one actually.” He says smiling. You smile back at him. 

“Do they all live in the UK?” 

“Yeah London.” He smiles. 

“Do you miss them?” 

“All the time.” He sounds sad, you feel bad. “I can show you some photos, I have some in my room.” You nod seeing him smile. There’s the pain again, a stabbing pain in your bowels. You stop, Gaz stops too turning to you. 

“You okay?” He asks. 

“Yeah, I just need to see Dr. Piper.” You say. You look over at the red brick building. 

“That’s where the lab is right?” You ask. Gaz nods.

“Want me to come with you?” You shake your head smiling at him. 

“I’m good.” You say walking off towards the building. 

Dr. Piper is filling up a cupboard with new lab supplies when a door slams closed, making her jump. She turns looking round the lab. 

“Hello?” She calls, gripping the test tube rack. She takes a breath in. Alpha. 

“John?” She asks, looking round the stack of boxes. She takes a step back backing up into something. The contact makes her jump, spinning round to see Simon standing behind her.

“Jesus, have they thought about putting a bell on you lieutenant?” She breathes feeling relieved. He hums making his way round to the other side of the table. 

“Price wanted me to come and see if there was anything you needed?” She can’t read his expression under his mask. He has such a looming presence in the room, John told her Simon was taking the changes the hardest. She only had time to quickly look over the files John had given her on him, maybe there would be some answers in there. Maybe she could get him to talk. 

“I think I’m good, got enough equipment in here, we're going to give the CDC a run for their money.” She says trying to lighten the mood. He looks at her nodding. A man of few words, along with his overpowering alpha sent, he’s always the most intimidating person in the room. 

“Has John made any progress on finding the people I recommended?” She doesn’t expect an answer from him but she’s already decided she’s going to get him to talk to her. 

“Working on it.” He says looking in a box of supplies. She nods, pressing her lips together. She tries to remember what she learned in her psychology classes. Her eyes follow the bulking figure around as he heads over to the door of her office.  

“What made you work for someone like the Professor?” He asks, she smiles, keeping her distance. 

“I agreed with his original vision for the project. I was fresh out of med school, he was offering a unique career path.” She explains watching to see his reaction. He’s good at hiding it, he’ll be a good alpha.

“What changed?” 

“He started getting more extreme. His experiments getting more and more unethical. He started to lose track of his goals.” She moves over to open another box of lab supplies. 

“Why didn’t he kill you?” He asks, walking towards her. 

“I was close with the omega, the professor had broken his bond with her. She needed someone safe, she could trust-”

“So he could keep torturing her.” He cuts her off, she looks up at him, his arms crossed. His eyes are digging into her, she can feel the anger in the air let alone smell it. 

“I’m a doctor first, I never hurt her.” 

“Whatever you have to tell yourself to sleep at night.” He says, his words harsh causing her to sigh and close the box up. 

“Like you’ve never killed anyone.” She scoffs.

“I’m a soldier.” 

“I’m a doctor.” 

“Just because you didn’t pull the trigger doesn’t mean you haven’t killed people.” He says 

“She’s alive, that's all that matters!” Piper snaps. 

“And that makes you think you’re different then him?” He scoffs. Piper shakes her head, taking a step over to him. 

“You don’t get to judge me. I did what I had to do to keep her safe, alive.” She says, tipping her head to the side watching his expression. His scent doesn’t change. His eyes are still digging into her. 

“I read the report, over 15 years she was down there.” His voice is low, it makes the hairs stand up on the back of her neck. 

“You don’t get to judge me.” Piper repeats, she can’t lose her confidence now. He shakes his head, his anger is heavy in the air. She should back down, everything in her body tells her to run and hide from him. 

“You haven’t told her about the professor yet?” He asks. Shit, she was hoping to avoid this conversation. She lets out a sigh.

“Did John ask that?” She asks. He doesn’t say anything, she stands her ground. 

“You say you’re one of the good guys but what else doesn't she know? Does she know who he is?” His alpha is on full display, his scent thick in the air. It makes her back down, she can’t avoid it this time. He shakes his head. 

“Her own father, christ, she should at least know he’s alive.” 

“Why do you care so much?” Piper says backing up, she doesn’t want to but she can’t help it. A new scent fills her nose. Omega. 

You step out from round the corner. Hugging your chest, tears in your eyes. Simon and Piper both turn to you. You feel like you can’t breathe, you stare, mouth hanging open as they watch you waiting to see what you’ll do. 

Your dad. It can’t be real. He wanted to claim you. 

You feel sick, you can’t even remember what you needed from her now. You take a step back, before you know it your body is turned and you’re sprinting out the room. You sprint as fast as you can across the grass back towards the barracks. You don’t stop, throwing yourself through the door. You don’t even register Gaz calling you as you rush past him to your room. You slam the door, turning the lock. You brace yourself on the desk sucking in gulps of air. Your lungs are burning.

He’s your father. 

He’s alive.

There’s noise in the hallway.

“What happened?” It’s John’s voice. You can smell the alpha in the air. Simon is here too. Someone tries the door handle. Then there’s a knock. Dr. Piper calls your name. She is the last person you want to see. She’s knocking on the door. 

“Go away!” You shout, your voice breaks. 

“He’s not your biological father, he married your mother to get to you!” Piper calls through the door. You don’t care, you're angry you want to scream. You go over to the door pulling it open. It almost knocks Piper off her feet. 

“That makes it better then, he just groomed me instead! Why don’t I remember him!” You snap. You look round at everyone standing in the hall. Your eyes flick to John, he looks confused, worried, they all do.

“It was a side effect of the first formula, it effected your memory.” She says. 

“I remember my mother.” You say. Dr. Piper shakes her head. 

“Who do you think of when you think of her?” She asks sympathetically. You think of the memories, of her baking, you playing in the house on the hill. It’s a sunny summers evening, you can even imagine the birds singing in the trees.  

“My mum, the house on the hill-.”

“With the pies, it’s a summer evening.” Piper finishes. She reaches out to grip your shoulders. You flinch but she holds you in place looking into your eyes. 

“Think hard about who you see when you think of your mother.” You close your eyes out of spite. You try to imagine her face but you can’t. You let out another sob, why can’t you picture her face. She’s always so real in your head, the pies, the garden.

You squeeze your eyes. It’s Dr. Piper, she’s who you see, she’s who you always think of when you think of your mother. You open your eyes, you can hardly see her through your tears. You back away from her. 

“She was so real.” You say between sobs. 

“I know, she had to be. You needed something to cling onto. Something to keep you grounded.” She says, taking a step forward but she doesn’t enter your room. 

“You lied to me!” You shout at her wiping your tears away. You’re angry, you don’t think you’ve ever felt this angry. 

“We did what we had to do to keep you safe.” She says, you can hear the pleading in her voice. 

“We? You mean you and the professor.” You say dropping your shoulders. You can’t believe what you’re hearing, you trusted her. You want to hate her, you wish you could hate her. You turn back to look at her, she looks sad, you can smell the sincerity in the air. You want to scream at her, you want to be mad, you never want to see her again. You rub the back of your neck. You feel betrayed. 

“I’m so sorry.” She says. You don’t want to see her anymore. You reach over and slam the door in her face. You wish you had a nest you could crawl up in. You don’t even have that. You hear their voices from the other side of the door.

You don’t care, you throw yourself into the bed pulling the covers over your head. For the first time you wish you were back in the bunker. Back in the tiny room you called home for the most of your life. You close your eyes. You wish you could think of your mother but the memories are tainted now. 

...

When you wake it’s dark out, the window is still cracked open and you can hear the wind blowing through the crack. Your head feels heavy, your throat dry, you get out of bed. The room is cold but you leave the window open, you want to smell the fresh air. You take a breath opening the door, Dr. Pipers door is closed, all the doors are, there’s no noise in the building now.

The only light you can see is coming out the bottom of the office. You take a deep breath in as you pass it, it’s John. You go into the kitchen looking through the cupboards for a glass. You hear the office door open as you run the tap. John sticks his head round the corner, you watch his nostrils flair. You don’t care that you smell distressed, it must be strong enough for him to pick up on it though. 

“How are you feeling?” He asks as you sip the water. 

“Fine,” it’s a lie, you don’t really know how you feel. He takes a step towards you. 

“We were going to tell you, Dr. Montgomery  thought you should get settled in first.” He says, you put the glass in the sink. 

“It’s okay, I’m sorry I acted the way I did.” You say, you don’t know why you feel like you have to apologise but you made a scene. You’re not supposed to do that. Omega’s are to be seen and not heard. The professor's words spin round in your head. 

“Don’t be silly, come on I have something for you.” He says, you nod following him. He goes into his office, the room is smaller then the bedroom, there’s just enough room for the desk, a sofa and some filing cabinets. Everything is still in boxes though as he bends down picking something up off the sofa. He turns handing you a pile of pillows and blankets. 

“Dr. Montgomery said you might want to nest.” He sounds unsure what that means, you reach out taking the pile in your arms. You want to still be mad at her. She’s right though, you want a nest. It makes you nervous as you look up at John, the last nest you made was destroyed. John would never do that, you trust him. 

“Thank you.” You say feeling the soft fabric. You wish you could run off and make a nest in the forest, surrounded by nature where you can watch the birds. Maybe high up in a tree somewhere where no one can reach you. 

“If you want some space from her I can keep her busy.” You look up at him. You wish it was that simple.

“We’re bonded, if I’m away from her for too long I get moody, sad, lonely.” You wish you could explain it, the feeling of not being with someone you bonded with. He’ll understand, if he claims you, that’s the strongest bond there is. It’s the same reason you can’t bring yourself to hate her, no matter what she’s done. 

“If there is anything you need you just have to ask.” He says his hand comes up to squeeze your shoulder. You breathe him in, his calming alpha scent fills your nose. You trust him, you feel safe around him. 

“Thank you.” You say as his hand drops, he smiles at you. 

“You should get some rest, it's late and we have a lot to do tomorrow.” You nod, turning to leave. You make it to the door hearing him following behind you. 

“John,” you stop swallowing the nerves. “Do you think maybe one day we could go for a walk in the forest?” He’s going to say no, why did you even ask? You squeeze the pile of bedding biting the inside of your cheek. His hand lands on the small of your back as he pushes you through the door turning the light off and locking the door. 

“Maybe, I’ll see what I can work out.” He says. You smile walking down towards your room. You turn back to look at him walking into his room, it’s right next to the office. He smiles at you as you walk through your door. You dump the pile down under the window. You wish it would open more so you could stick your head out and breathe in the cold night air. This would be a nice place to build a nest, you’re too tired now though. You leave the curtains open and climb back into bed. You can see out to the sky from the bed, there is no moon tonight, but you can see stars. You’ve never seen stars before, it makes you smile. 

You dream you’re walking through the forests with John. It’s warm but the sun is broken up by trees. You can hear the birds singing up in the trees. The air is thick with electricity, you end up by a lake. The sky is dark, there are rumbles of thunder in the distance. John comes up behind you, his hands land on your shoulders. His hands are strong, firm as they squeeze you.

You lean back pressing your back against his chest. You close your eyes as the scent of his alpha fills your nose and you relax into him. There’s another crash of thunder, it shakes you and your eyes flash open. There’s no lake anymore, John’s gone too. You smell apple pie, when you turn the forest is gone and replaced by the house, the house on the hill. You try to back away but something is stopping you. Hands grip your arm nails digging into your skin. 

“Why are you trying to run?” The voice is low and harsh in your ear sending shivers up your spine. It’s the professor, he’s forcing you to walk towards the house. You try to stop but he picks you up in his arms, you kick and thrash trying to claw at his skin. He laughs, his arms wrapping round you tighter. The smell of pie is replaced with the overwhelming smell of blood.

You can hear Dr. Piper’s voice. It takes you all your energy to push against him in a last ditch effort to escape. It doesn’t matter though, he lets out a deep laugh, his hand coming round to grip the back of your neck. You scream as pain radiates down your spine, your body goes limp, you can’t fight it, you try to call out but your breath catches in your throat and everything goes black. 

the whisky wasn’t cutting it. It’s his second glass and his nerves were higher then they had ever been. He’d been ignoring calls all day, leaving it to his assistant, his prodigy; Miles Ashford. He’s spent the past year as his assistant. At first he wasn’t sure why he kept him around, but he needed someone to keep his work up to date above ground. He’d promised him an omega, once he had perfected the formula. He was so close. He stood up, downing the rest of the glass, the alcohol burnt his throat. He was so close, almost perfect. There’s a knock at the door. He walks over to the drinks cabinet again reaching in and taking the bottle of whisky out. 

“Come in!” He calls. He watches as the door creaks open and Miles walks in. He walks in slowly, making sure he’s definitely allowed in before closing the door behind him. The professor sits down behind his desk. 

“I spoke to your contact at the CIA. He knows who Laswell is.” Miles put a folder down on the table. “She’s been on vacation for the past week.” 

“Red herring?” The professor asks, pouring whisky in his glass. Miles shakes his head.

“She was investigating you but Shepherd did his job, threw her off the scent then she went on vacation.” Miles puts another folder on the table. The Professor recognises it straight away. Doctor Piper Montgomery. 

“She’s been putting feelers out for old staff members. I think she’s searching for someone.” He says. The professor picks his glass up. 

“I should have put the bitch down when I had a chance.” He says, shaking his head. “Where is she?” 

“She was in New York but now she’s missing.” Miles says, the professor's eyes dig into him as he thinks taking a sip of the whisky. He lets out a long sigh. 

“Find out who she’s talking with and why. If you find her, kill her.” 

“What about the CIA?” Miles asks. 

“I think General Shepherd is capable of keeping that under control.” He lets out another sigh. Miles nods, he turns to leave the professor looks down at the file on the table. He looks at the image of Piper sticking out. Anger boils up inside him as he finishes the drink. Fucking bitch. He should have killed her when he had the chance. This is her doing he can smell it from a mile away.

He grips the desk slamming the glass down as hard as he can. It shatters the broken glass digs into his hand, ripping the flesh. He grits his teeth at the pain bringing his palm up to his mouth. He can already feel the flesh trying to repair itself.

He pulls the picture out the file. It’s a picture of you and Piper. You’re looking at her, your expression soft, his thumb runs over your face. There’s an aching in him. He needs you back, he needs to claim you. He’s going to find you, no matter what it takes. 

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Dividers by Plum98 & gild-ui

Special thank you yet again to rememberwren <3