#alpha!rumple

[martianbugsbunny]

Hewwo I saw your ask captaincroc and I wonder if you've got any ideas/headcanons on ABO stuff or au's,,,,, if not or you don't like that trope then maybe for soulmate, like what kind of mark or how they know, who gets it/knows it first or the likes

Also I love thinking about them too hhhhhhhh

Luv ya mate I eat this stuff up :) Gonna stick it under a read more because it turned out to be a long post, like I said I love thinking about these guys. Plus, I know A/B/O universe isn't everyone's thing, so for those who don't partake you can just skip it, it's all chill. As you will see, I answered both parts of this because I am simply rabid for soulmates AUs and I couldn't resist.

I haven't really thought about A/B/O universe stuff for this pairing yet (which is not to say I will not ever in depth, because I like messing around with the dynamics in that kind of universe in my head even tho I've never actually written a fic for it) but like off the top of my head I 100% would steal that thing from The Miller's Daughter and have Hook pledge his firstborn child to Rumple in exchange for a magical favor, as an omega who's never been through a heat before and doesn't believe that he ever will, only for some plant on Neverland or smthn to trigger his first one and since he already made that deal, he realizes the only alpha who's an acceptable mate for him is Rumple, because if they form a bond then maybe, just maybe, Rumple will let him have visitation rights or something. Rumple agrees reluctantly, mostly because he's still working through the issues of letting Bae go, but in the end if he's going to take any resulting child from this heat from Killian, he wants it to be his child and not some random person's. Of course Rumple falls hard for him as he's staying at the castle to recuperate after his heat, but doesn't want to put himself in the vulnerable position of admitting his feelings. Rumple, being magical and because I say so, knows immediately that Hook is indeed carrying his child, and he comes up with the excuse of "well you promised this kid to me so you have to stay here until it's born so I know you're not going to try to abscond with my goods, plus it's going to be mine in the future so I need to make sure you're taking care of it for me now," and Hook buys it because when a guy will take your firstborn child in a bargain, why wouldn't he say that. He falls in love with Rumple over the next nine months, and gradually starts to see through the Dark One veneer as he realizes that Rumple's loved him the whole time, and that's why he's been so fussy (in his own weird way). After the birth (two girls, I think) Rumple stands there watching Hook cradle the babies in his arms, and he says "you know, you've technically already given me a child, after a fashion, by carrying and birthing it, I don't have to actually keep either of them, it would totally mess with my schedule for arranging the Dark Curse anyway," because he hasn't figured out yet that his feelings are reciprocated. Hook argues that a pirate is a man of his word, but suggests they make a small adjustment to the deal: I'll give you my firstborn and my second born and any other children I have because I'm giving myself to you. And they live evilly ever after lol.

As for soulmate AUs, I have already done one of the ones where each person starts to see color only because they meet their soulmate, it is possibly one of my finest works of fanfiction and I'm ridiculously proud of it, but I'm always happy to meditate on other forms of soulmate AU.

I kind of like the idea of a soulmate AU where the mark that appears on each person's skin is something that will only make sense to them once they actually know their soulmate, because that just makes it so much more complicated to actually figure out who your soulmate is. So Rumple would have an image of a sextant right above his heart, and Hook would have...his is a little harder, because Rumple didn't have many material possessions that he was really attached to, but maybe he has...herm, I'm gonna go dramatic on this one and say he has the image of the Dark Curse scroll on his wrist because as far as I can remember (and I could be wrong about this lol) it was not common knowledge that Rumple was behind the curse, I think most people just thought it was Regina, but at the very least nobody really knew why Rumple wanted it cast, so that is something Hook would have to figure out over time.

Ngl I also enjoy the idea of them in an AU where your soulmate's name is on your skin from like the moment you're born, so Rumple would have Killian Jones written on him and Hook would have Rumplestiltskin, they have antagonism of an unspecified nature (idk, maybe it's like the original except Milah only ever refers to Rumple as "the coward" or "my ex-husband" because it ruins the suspense if Hook knows) and as usual it runs all the way into the Curse and when Hook comes to Storybrooke to kill Rumple, because Hook never learned the Dark One's name, and Rumple only heard Hook referred to as "Captain" or "Captain Hook," so neither of them connected the dots. Bonus points if Hook raids Rumple's old village at least a hundred years into his magically extended lifespan, and he finds this old-ass ledger with a record of births in it, and in his infinite wisdoms doesn't realize that this guy who was born a little over a hundred years ago is the same bastard who's also been living a lot longer than he should. I just love the idea of how many narrative hoops they would have to jump through in order to not learn they were each other's soulmate until let's say the moment Hook stabs him; then he catches sight of the name Jones somewhere on Rumple's skin, maybe on his collarbone where people normally wouldn't see it, but he just got stabbed so his shirt has shifted, and of course Hook knows it's himself, but he has to confirm, so he none-too-gently shreds more of Rumple's shirt and yep, there it is, Killian Jones. And then Hook turns right round and decides you know what, I've spent most of my life believing my soulmate lived and died ages before I existed, I'm not going to let him die now even if he is the Dark One, and he fights with the heroes against Cora and he definitely kills her instead of or maybe with Snow.

Thanks for the fun anon, I absolutely loved spending some time on this and I really do hope you see it bc I don't know if you can see when someone answers an anonymous ask you sent in, but tysm for the inspiration!!! Always feel free to send more asks about these guys, I love them so much, and although I don't have much time for writing fics right now, I might be able to use some of this stuff for fics when I do have time, so if there's an idea you want to try planting in my brain bc you want a fic about it, this is totally the way to do it lol.

[amethystdreamer114]

My Weakness Part 1/?

Summary: ABO where Gold is a hot-blooded alpha and struggles with rutting symptoms, while trying his hardest to gain your favor before the worst hits…

TW: rut, swearing, smut, vomiting, random other sickfic stuff I decide on- honestly this is kinda a kitchen sink sickfic so😂

Soft, yellow candlelight illuminated Gold’s jacket as he paced up and down the isles of his store, attempting to distract himself with various items. With every second, the clock ticked closer to midnight. He could already feel his chest and neck heating up as his fever started.

Alpha ruts were… interesting to say the least. They lasted 5-7 days and typically worked in phases.

Phase 1: Fever, heightened sense of smell, temper or outbursts, an insatiable need to find a mate, or if you had one, an insatiable need to be near them.

Gold had a mate… or so he thought.

He’d met you at Granny’s on one of his walks. He could still picture it perfectly. Your pastel yellow sundress, the way your hair flowed in the breeze, the way you smelled like sweet oranges and freshly picked flowers.

He remembered how you had been so kind and gentle to him, especially since he’d just been left alone by Belle.

You two had talked for a few minutes on the bench outside. He’d studied your every word and the way you looked at him as if, for once, he mattered for more than just being The Dark One.

That’s when the blasted pirate showed up.

“(Y/n) love, we mustn’t get too close to the crocodile.” He swept you away, gesturing to his hand. “Learned my bloody lesson the hard way.”

Since then, you’d been on his mind and now, he was even more drawn to you. Especially since every now and again, he’d catch your scent.

Belle had left him at the worst time possible. During a rut, if an alpha *doesn’t* have a mate, symptoms are much worse.

What would normally feel like an off-day or residual flu symptoms very quickly became debilitating.

The clock continued to tick, showing him that his time was passing quickly. With every step, every attempt to distract himself, he could feel the chills and discomfort settling in. His long, brown hair stuck to his forehead with sweat. Soon, he started to feel disoriented and confused.

He fumbled around for his cane and then gave all the effort he had to reach the back of the shop, where he all but collapsed on one of the couches.

The fabric felt like knives as it rubbed against this feverish skin.

He started to curl in on himself, tugging on the edge of a thin throw blanket that was almost out of reach.

That’s when a gust of wind through the window brought in your scent. In his hazy state, he envisioned you at his side, stroking his hair and telling reassuring him that it would be alright and he’d make it through this.

He was scared, honestly. He’d never been through a rut alone.

He needed you and now, he had to find you and beg for the help he so desperately needed.

[soaps-mohawk]

Cherry Red, Crimson Blood

Chapter 18: Don't Let Me Go

Summary: Things have gone wrong in your pack's absence. Can they make it back in time before irreparable damage is done? Can they fix the damage that's already been dealt?

Pairing: Poly 141 x reader

Word Count: 10,232...oops

Warnings: ANGST, Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, Alternate Universe, a/b/o typical classism and sexism, ANGST, anxiety, fear, panic attacks, very descriptive scenes of panic and anxiety, very heavy emotionally in the beginning, major invasions of privacy, hurt/sort of comfort, very brief mention of violence and death, and most importantly: fluff

A/N: Yeah, so this one kind of got away from me. It's definitely one of my favorite chapters now, and it's definitely the longest so far. It's pretty heavy, so plan something fun afterwards because it will hurt. I tried to catch all the possible triggers, but of course, if I miss one let me know. I promise things will begin to take a turn for the happier after this, at least for a bit. Picks up pretty much right where chapter 17 left off.

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You’re shaking. Your breaths are coming in gasps as you stare at your open door. There’s no scent in the air, nothing that would give you a hint of who invaded your space, or if they’re still in there. You should leave, barricade yourself somewhere and call Dr. Keller, or even Kate. 

What could they do, though? Your pack won’t be home until tomorrow at the earliest. 

No one can help you. 

You slowly push your door open, ready to run in case someone is hiding inside. You stand in the doorway, scanning the small space, but there’s no sign of anyone. There’s still no scent either, just your own mingled with the slight chemical burn of scent blockers. Your eyes scan the room, looking for anything that might be new, anything that might be missing, anything that might be slightly out of place. 

The clothes on the floor are slightly rumpled, but you’re not sure if you did that in your haste to pull on shoes before you left, or if they’ve been that way since the knock sounded on your door. You lift your gaze to the ceiling, scanning it and that’s when you notice it. The cover over the vent is slightly out of place. You likely wouldn’t have noticed if you hadn’t been paying attention, if you hadn’t looked. 

The thought sends a chill running down your spine. 

You keep your eyes on the vent as you grab your desk chair, kicking clothes out of the way as you move it under the vent. You stand on the chair, reaching for the vent, but it’s not quite enough. You shove the chair to the side, taking everything off your desk before you pull it under the vent. You climb up on shaky legs, your heart thudding in your chest as you remove the vent cover. 

Nausea twists at your stomach as your breath leaves you in a sharp gasp. There, strategically placed between two of the gaps in the vent cover, is a camera. It’s small, and would have been invisible just staring at the vent from below. You feel like you might be sick as you pull it free from the vent cover, staring down into the tiny lens. 

How long has it been up there? 

You drop the camera onto your desk, your fingers shaking and trembling as you feel along the edges of the vent, checking for anything else that might be hiding up there. You replace the cover after you find nothing, a sense of dread filling you. 

Had the guys put it up so they could watch you, make sure that you’re safe? Had they put it up there before you arrived? You think about all the times you’ve changed in your room, your heat. 

You climb down from the desk, tugging it further towards the center of the room before you climb back up, unscrewing the cover off the light. You check the bulb, looking for any cameras or recording devices. You screw the cover of the light back on after finding none, a quiet sob leaving your lips as you look around your room. 

You close the door and lock it before you begin your search, checking every corner and piece of furniture for cameras or recording devices. You empty the dresser and closet, checking every drawer and corner for anything suspicious. 

You pull recording devices from under your desk and the back of your nightstand, the adhesive still fresh enough they pop right off. A cold sweat has overtaken you as you find another recording device and another camera, adding them to the growing pile on your desk. 

A quiet sob of fear leaves your lips as you check the bathroom, tearing your room apart to check every inch. You search up a tutorial on YouTube, using your phone to check for more possible cameras that you might have missed. 

You stare down at the pile of cameras and recording devices on your desk. Someone entered your room and planted them while you were with General Shepherd. It had all been deliberate. Get you away from your room and distracted so they could enter and set up the devices. You wonder if it’s all part of some sick plan, some way to ensure things are going well with your pack. General Shepherd had been very interested in your mark, invading your space without a moment of hesitation to see it firsthand. You would have shown him, had he asked to see it. Instead he’d just done it himself, as if it was nothing. 

Your hands are shaking as you find a ziploc bag in the mess you’ve made of your room, putting the cameras and recording devices into it. You drop it onto the floor before stepping on it, listening to the crack of metal and plastic and glass under your shoe. Tears slip down your cheeks as you pick up the bag of broken pieces, taking it to the bathroom. You hide it far in the back of the cupboard beneath the sink, piling things around it and on top of it to keep it hidden. 

You stand in the doorway of the bathroom, your skin crawling as you stare at the mess. You don’t feel safe anymore, not even in your own space. The thought of someone breaching the sacred space, entering your room without a second thought to put up cameras makes your stomach churn. 

Where will you go? You can’t just leave, find somewhere else to feel safe. What if they did the same to the guys’ rooms? There could have been an entire team of people that came in and put cameras up all over the barracks. A sob leaves your lips as you rush to the door, double checking it’s locked before you shove the dresser against it. You flip your desk up to cover the window as much as it can, just in case anyone tries to climb in.  

You sink to the floor in the middle of the disaster that has become your room, sobbing quietly. You want your pack home, you want to feel safe again. You glance at your phone where it’s sitting on a pile of shirts, afraid to even touch it. That woman could have done anything to it while you were with General Shepherd. What if they’re trying to call you and they can’t reach you? 

You should try to reach Dr. Keller, tell her what happened, get her to check if there’s anyone lurking around the barracks that shouldn’t be. What if they try to attack her, though? Can she defend herself? You don’t know if she can fight or not. What if she gets hurt because of you? She could ask someone else on base to look, but what if they were involved in it? What if it was someone already on base that had done it? The thought nearly makes you sick. 

You’re scared to leave again. What if they’ve noticed you found the cameras and come back while you’re gone? What if they come back while you’re here? 

The tears flow freely as you sob, too afraid to even move. You can feel it, the panic starting to bubble up again, the fear welling inside you. Your muscles begin to tense, shoulders pulling up near your ears as you try to defend yourself from this invisible threat. It’s an easy slope from fear to distress, and there’s no one to help you if you start distressing. You press your palms into your eyes, holding your breath to try and shock your body into something other than panic. 

You bite back a startled scream as a knock sounds at the door, your heart rate spiking again. 

“It’s just me,” Dr. Keller’s voice sounds through the door. “Ready for dinner?” 

You take a deep breath, staring at the dresser blocking your door. You’ll have to move it to get out, which she’ll likely notice. You could lie, you could lie easily, but you’re not sure you could keep it up right now. She’ll notice the tears, the obvious signs of panic and distress. She’ll want to know, and you can’t trust yourself not to spill everything. 

You should tell her about what had happened, but you know she’ll be disappointed. She’ll think you were stupid for leaving, for not even sending her a text. She’ll tell John when he returns, too. He should know about it, but there’s no way a high ranking General could arrive on base without them knowing, especially one that’s their commander. Maybe it had all been a test. Maybe they do know about General Shepherd and just forgot to tell you this was going to happen. 

Maybe Dr. Keller even knew about it, and didn’t say anything because she thought you knew too. 

“I-I’m not hungry.” You say, trying to keep your voice from shaking. 

There’s a pause outside the door for a moment, a beat of silence that’s too loud.

“Is everything alright?” She finally asks. 

“Y-Yeah.” You say, clearing your throat. “Just...not really hungry right now.” 

It’s silent again for a beat, making you hold your breath anxiously. 

“Are you sure? I can come back later, or bring you dinner.” She says. 

“I’m sure.” You swallow the tears welling in your eyes again. “I’ll grab a snack if I get hungry later.” 

“Okay...” She says, and you can almost see the frown on her face. “Text or call if you need anything, alright?” 

“Yeah.” You say, your voice cracking a bit. 

You regret it almost instantly, the urge to shove the dresser out of the way and fling the door open strong as you hear her receding steps down the hallway. You don’t want to be alone, but Dr. Keller can’t give you what you need. The tears start falling again, sliding down your cheeks as you flop onto your back, ignoring the way the edge of a book digs into your spine. 

You just want your pack back. You want John to scoop you up into his arms and wrap you in his warmth and soothing scent. You want Kyle and Johnny to squish you between them, sandwich you so tightly you’re scared you might burst. You want Ghost to wrap himself around you and offer you a blanket of protection against anyone who would even dare cast a glance in your direction. 

You just want to feel at home again. 

You want to be safe again. 

***

The emotional and physical exhaustion pushes you into the state between consciousness and sleep. You’ve moved to your bed, tucked under the covers and stuck between the wall and your giant bear, as if it could offer you some form of protection as you float between awareness and somewhere in the realm of sleep for a few hours.

You’re not sure what time it is, when the disruption comes. It takes you a moment to register why you’re awake. Some deep part of your brain is prickling, sending out warning signals to your body. Something’s happening, something’s wrong, something’s posing a threat. 

You hold your breath in the silence of the barracks, listening to the slow, quiet footsteps making their way down the hall. For a moment you think you might be imagining them, that you’re still asleep and dreaming. Your fingers pinch at your skin, nails digging in to confirm that you are, in fact, awake. This is really happening. 

Your heartbeat picks up, the bitter stench of fear that’s coated your room intensifying as the footsteps pause outside your door. You let out a quiet, shaky breath as you lay there, thinking up every time you checked the door in the last few hours to ensure it was locked and the dresser was still pushed in front of it. 

You cover your mouth as the door handle wiggles, catching on the lock. The whimper of fear threatening to rise catches in your throat as you hold your breath, your body trembling under your blankets. You should reach for your phone, send a text to Kate, call Dr. Keller, do something. Yet, you’re frozen in fear as the handle continues to wiggle before stopping. 

You don’t release a breath until the footsteps fade, a quiet whimper slipping from your lips. Someone just tried to get into your room. 

You’re panicking, breaths coming in short, sharp gasps as you burrow under your covers, barricading yourself between the wall and your bear, hoping you’ll be invisible in case they come back, in case they force their way in. You can’t fight, not after the day you’ve had. The best you can hope for is that your scent is rank enough in the room it’ll deter whoever is trying to get in. 

You need tomorrow to come, and fast. 

***

Daylight doesn't bring any sense of comfort. 

All it does is shed more light on the disaster your room has become, the physical representation of your internal thoughts and feelings. Your face feels puffy from crying, and there’s a bad taste in your mouth. You haven’t brushed your teeth since yesterday, nor have you showered, too scared to put yourself in such a vulnerable position. 

You glance at your phone, checking for missed calls, but there’s none. Dr. Keller will be by soon to get you for breakfast, but you’re not sure you can stand going to the mess. The idea of leaving your room, leaving it empty so anyone could just walk in and bug it or touch your things or hide out so they can take revenge on you for finding and destroying their cameras and recording devices has you paralyzed. 

That must have been what whoever entered the barracks last night had come to do. Maybe they thought you’d spend the night in one of the other rooms and they’d come to replace them. Or, maybe they wanted you to be in your room. Maybe that was the plan all along. 

The thought sends a chill running down your spine. 

You burrow back under your blankets, curling up against your giant teddy bear. You wish it was Price, that his arm would wrap around you and hold you close, keep you safe and protected in his arms. You’d take any of them right now, even Ghost. At least you know he’d protect you, especially if someone tried to enter the barracks without permission. 

You’re still lying there when Dr. Keller arrives. You stare at the dresser still pushed against the door, keeping you from opening it. Not that you really want to. You can’t stop the anxiety from taking over, bringing forward the image of Dr. Keller held at gunpoint on the other side of the door, trying to trick you into opening it so whoever tried to get in last night can finally do what they came to do. 

You know it’s a ridiculous thought. No one would be that stupid in broad daylight, and you doubt Dr. Keller would let something like that happen to her. She’d put up a fight, or at least you hope so. 

You can’t move the dresser without her knowing you’d pushed it against the door, which will only prompt questions. Questions you don’t want to answer. 

She calls your name through the door, concern lacing her voice. “Everything alright?” 

No. You want to scream it, tears gathering in your eyes again. You want to push the dresser out of the way, throw open the door and confess everything that’s happened in the last few hours to her. You want to bring her into your space, keep her there until your pack returns so you can feel even just an ounce of safety. 

But what if she gets mad? 

Leaving yesterday was stupid. Going off with some unknown beta without telling anyone was the dumbest thing you’ve done since your arrival on base. She’ll be disappointed and she’ll tell your pack and they’ll be disappointed that you didn’t say anything to her about it. Even if they knew it happened, they’d still be disappointed that you didn’t think to even question it, that you didn’t think to let Dr. Keller know what was going on. 

You made a stupid decision, and you won’t be able to take their disappointment and anger. Not after everything. 

“Yeah.” You call out, your voice shaking. “I-I’m alright.” 

You can tell she doesn’t believe you, even though you can’t see her. She probably has that look on her face she gets when she knows you’re not telling the whole truth. You take a deep breath, trying to calm the racing of your heart. You’re afraid it might give out after the stress of the last few days. 

“Are you ready for breakfast?” She finally asks, likely giving up on trying to get any more details from you. 

You’re not hungry, and you know going to the mess will not end well. The risk of distressing is high, and the thought that any one in the mess might have been the intruder last night nearly sends you over the edge. One wrong glance in your direction might cause you to do something reckless. “I’m not hungry.” You finally say, pulling the blankets tighter around you. 

“Are you sure?” She asks. “Did you eat something last night?” 

“Yeah.” You lie, trying to keep your voice from breaking. “I had some snacks.” 

Her feet shuffle outside the door for a moment, and you can almost hear her sigh. “If you’re sure?” 

“I-I’m sure.” You reply. 

There’s a moment of silence before you get a response, your breath catching in your throat from the nerves. “Alright.” She finally says. “I got word that your pack will be landing in a couple of hours and we have permission to go out to the airfield and greet them. I’ll come back to get you when it’s time. If you need anything, call me.” 

You listen to her footsteps recede down the hallway, tears burning your eyes. You hate lying. You feel bad for keeping the truth from her, but the shame of revealing what you did is too strong. 

You hastily wipe your eyes, staring at the mess on your floor. You need to get your room back to at least its somewhat normal state, and you need to put yourself back to your normal state as well. If anyone gets any hint that something is wrong, you might crack, and you’re not sure you could handle the repercussions. 

You start with the desk, flipping it back the way it’s supposed to be and positioning it as close to where it was as you can get. You collect the books and other little things that go on it, trying to arrange it as close to how it normally is. You know they’ll notice if any little thing is out of place, if anything looks suspicious. You can blame some of it on cleaning, if they ask. You did some deep cleaning while they were away. That’s one way of putting it. 

You push the dresser back into place next, putting the drawers back in before starting on the clothes, putting everything back where it belongs. You make your bed last, the urge to nest gone completely. You’re shaking with exhaustion by the time you finish, tempted to crawl back into bed, but you know you can’t. Your pack is coming back, and you need everything to look like it’s fine still. 

They’ll notice. They’ll see it, and they’ll ask, and you’ll have to spill everything and face the shame and anger from being so stupid. 

Tears burn your eyes as you slip your desk chair under the door handle, making sure it’s secure before heading to the shower to get ready for your pack’s imminent return. You shower with the door open, getting done quickly to avoid being vulnerable for long. You try to make yourself look as decent as possible, ignoring the fact that there’s broken cameras and recording devices hidden under the sink. Eventually you’ll forget. Eventually it’ll fade from your mind and become nothing more than a forgotten nightmare. 

One of many. 

You toss your pajamas on the floor haphazardly, just to make things look more normal. You know if it’s too clean, that might raise some suspicions as well. You don’t want to give away that something happened, you don’t want to raise any suspicions. You just want things to go back to normal. You want your pack back, and you want to feel safe again. 

At least, until they have to leave again. 

You sink to the floor, leaning up against your bed as you wait for Dr. Keller to take you to greet your pack when they return. 

***

Every minute seems to drag on infinitely as you stare across the tarmac. They’ll be landing any minute. Any minute now the nightmare will be over and you’ll get to see your pack again after days of being apart. Finally, maybe, you can begin to feel safe again. 

You watch the plane as it comes in to land, your hands already trembling in anticipation. There’s a twisting in your stomach, you’re not sure if it’s worry or fear or excitement. They’re so close, so close you can almost smell them. Your omega is scratching at the back of your brain, your muscles twitching as the ramp begins to lower on the plane. You need to see them, you need to smell them, you need to ensure they’re alright. 

You can’t stop yourself. As soon as their boots hit the tarmac, you’re running. You don’t care if you’re breaking rules, you don’t care if the other soldiers get worried, or see you as a possible threat, you need to be in your alpha’s arms again. 

John grunts from the force of you hitting him, but you can’t bring yourself to care. You throw your arms around him, clinging to him as tight as you can. You’re whimpering, the quiet sounds dragging from your lips but you don’t care. You press your face into his chest, breathing him in. He smells like sweat and musk, the sharp metallic tang of gunpowder burning your nose. Yet, underneath it all, you can make out the earthy scent, the petrichor going straight to your brain. 

His arms wrap tight around you, squishing you up against his chest. His vest digs into your skin, but you don’t care. You can’t feel much of anything but relief. His breath fans your forehead as he leans down, his hand cupping the back of your head. He shushes you gently, pressing a kiss to your forehead. Tears fill your eyes as you cling to him, fingers gripping his shirt tightly like you’re afraid he might disappear again. If it wasn’t for the pain in your chest, you might have thought this was all a dream, that they might disappear suddenly and you’ll wake up alone again. 

“Easy.” John rumbles, gently stroking the back of your head. 

You cling to him tighter as his hand gets close to your neck, the thought of General Shepherd’s hand being so close to your neck where he could scruff you so easily making your insides squirm. 

He’s gone. He’s gone and your pack is here. 

“You’re alright.” John tries to reassure you, squeezing his arms around your trembling form. “I’ve got you.” 

You keep your face pressed against his chest, breathing him in, trying to get his scent to calm the raging storm within you. Your omega is still scratching at the back of your mind, a deep need to claw your way under John’s skin and into his body pushing at the front of your mind. You won’t be safe until you’ve been utterly consumed by him, until you’re safely tucked where no one can hurt you without going through him first. 

“Alpha,” You whine quietly, nuzzling your face against his chest. His clothes are in the way, a barrier against what you need. To feel him, to smell him fully again. 

“Easy.” He says, grabbing your hands as they shift towards the velcro straps of his tactical vest. “Let’s get back to the barracks first before we start that, sweetheart.” 

You don’t want to go back to the barracks. It’s not safe anymore. What if there’s someone waiting there for you to return? What if they get hurt because you don’t tell them what happened? What if you get hurt and cause them pain? 

“You’re alright.” John says, stroking the back of your head as he begins to ease your grip on him. “There’s a couple of muppets here who I think would like to greet you too.” 

Right. You’re so caught up in your alpha, you forgot the rest of your pack. You slowly allow yourself to be peeled away from John, Kyle right there to let you cling to him. 

And so you do. 

Your grip around him is just as tight, ignoring the uncomfortable ridges of his own vest. He holds you just as tightly, projecting his scent just a bit to try and calm you. Someone presses against your back, arms wrapping around both you and Kyle. The scent of citrus lined with beta invades your nose, Johnny squishing you into a sandwich between them. Your eyes squeeze shut as citrus and salty sea air blend together, the beta’s scents reaching deep into your brain to try and ease some of the tension in your body. 

They’re back. They’re safe. You’re safe. 

Now you just have to convince yourself of that fact. 

***

“How was she?” John asks as he approaches Dr. Keller. 

“Held it together longer than I thought she would.” She says. “Things took a turn yesterday afternoon. Shut herself in her room and wouldn’t come out. I don’t think she’s eaten anything since lunch yesterday either.” 

“We’ll get some food in her.” John says. “Thank you, for looking after her for us.” 

“Well, it is partly my job.” Dr. Keller shrugs. “Always happy to do it.” 

“Things will get easier, won’t they?” He asks. 

“Eventually. She’ll learn what coping mechanisms help and she’ll adapt.” 

“Hopefully at least one of us will be able to stay moving forward. I don’t like leaving her here alone.” He grimaces. 

“Separation is hard no matter what, especially with limited contact, on all parties involved.” She gives him a look. “I think the best thing you can do right now is just be together as a pack. Let those bonds heal and let her do what she needs.” 

“Thank you, doctor.” John says, shaking her hand. 

“Call me, if you need anything, as usual.” Dr. Keller says, watching his retreating back before getting into her car to make the short drive back to the medical center. 

John gets into the car waiting to take them back to the barracks, sitting next to Kyle who’s holding you straddling his lap, your face pressed into his neck. “That looks safe.” He remarks, even though they wouldn’t be going very fast, or very far. 

“Couldn’t get her to let go.” Kyle says, tightening his hold around you as the car begins moving. 

“You’re alright, sweetheart.” John says, rubbing your back gently. 

You turn your face to look at him, your eyes red from the numerous tears you’ve already shed, and the ones still trailing down your face. The guilt nearly makes him sick as he stares at you, feeling the slight tremble still from where his hand rests against your back. 

He’d never say it out loud, but he hates the fact they had to leave you, all four of them at once too. He’d fought, argued. He and Simon could have handled it on their own, even him and the two Sergeants would have been sufficient. Anything not to leave you by yourself during their first deployment. 

Despite his attempts, General Shepherd had been insistent that all four of them were necessary for this particular task. 

So, he had been forced to leave you behind on your own. It’s gone about as well as he expected, from the looks of it. He knew the separation would get to you eventually. The stress would grow to be too much. Every day he anticipated the news to come from Kate that you had distressed and your omega had taken over because he wasn’t there to help you. 

Every day he waited for the news that they’d lost you because the brass that put this initiative into place couldn’t understand why taking them all at once was a bad idea. 

Or maybe that was their plan all along. 

He couldn’t stop the conspiratorial thoughts running through his head as their mission dragged on. What if they were doing this on purpose? It wouldn’t be that strange to push the boundaries of what could be tolerated for the purpose of testing just how effective the initiative really could be. But pushing it like that so soon? Sure, he could rationalize it was possible. War could break out at any moment, which would require most military members to leave, to be separated from their packs for months or even years. His own team could be called out at any time for months working to eliminate a target and stop war from breaking out. 

Yet, he can’t help but feel there was something more, something deeper going on. What if they had called away for more nefarious reasons? What if getting you alone had been the reason behind General Shepherd’s insistence that all four of them were necessary for this particular task? He had refused to entertain those dark thoughts for too long, the fear of leaving you alone already itching in the back of his mind from the moment they boarded the plane to leave. 

He hadn’t been able to hide his relief at hearing your voice on the phone. Though you had sounded upset, and rightfully so, his worries had been lessened in knowing you were alright. You would tell them if something had happened. He knows you wouldn’t keep something that serious a secret. If someone had hurt you, or had tried to hurt you, you would tell one of them. 

Even though he trusts you, he does plan to speak to Dr. Keller more in depth later to ensure everything went as fine as she seemed to imply it did. Obviously their absence has been hard on you, but he needs to make sure you really will be alright, that you will be able to come back from the obvious distress this has caused you. 

***

You finally release your constricting hold on Kyle as the car pulls up outside the barracks. Even with them back, it still doesn't feel like home anymore, not after such sacred space was invaded so easily, so nonchalantly. Kyle climbs out of the car, setting you on your feet on the ground. You look between him and John, realizing Ghost and Johnny are still in the car. Your stomach falls as you realize what they're about to say, tears gathering in your eyes again.

“We still have some things we need to do.” John says, reaching towards you. 

You have the momentary urge to flinch from his touch, but you let his hand cup your cheek. “You're leaving me again.” You say, your voice breaking. 

John almost looks guilty. He almost looks upset by your visible turmoil. His hand drops from your cheek to your back, turning you towards the barracks. Your stomach twists as he guides you inside, the fear of someone being inside spiking. You know you're safe with John, that he wouldn’t let anything happen to you, but you'd have to play dumb if they did catch someone inside. You’d have to act like you didn’t know someone had entered before, like you had been unaware of anything going on. That might almost be worse than telling them the truth. 

You inhale as he stops in front of your door, still closed from when you'd left with Dr. Keller. There's no chemical burn of scent blockers, just your scent in the air, and John's scent coming off him as he stands next to you. 

“We won't be long. Maybe an hour at most, and we'll only be across base. We'll come back and we can get lunch before our afternoon meeting. Then we'll just have reports to do, and you can sit in my office while I work on those, okay?” He says. 

Your brows pinch as you try to hold in your tears. You want to tell him, you want to reveal what happened, beg him not to leave you alone here again, but you can't. You can't face that shame, the disappointment you know he'll show on his face at the knowledge that you let that happen. You willingly left with a stranger without telling anyone. You let someone invade your pack's space so easily. They were gone for a week and you screwed everything up. 

“Tomorrow we'll spend the day together. All of us. I promise.” He says wiping the tear that slides down your cheek. 

Even though they're back, you still don't have them. 

You inhale shakily before nodding. “Yeah. Fine.”

John's thumb brushes your cheek for a moment before he leans down, pressing a kiss to your forehead. 

You watch his back retreat as he leaves the barracks, leaving you alone again. You think back to when they’d left you, watching his back as he boarded the plane to be taken from you. You stare at the door as the cars drive off, a cold chill running down your spine. What if General Shepherd is still here? What if they're going to meet with him? What if he tells them he met with you while they were gone and they had no idea? 

Maybe you should have been honest with them from the start. 

You stare at your closed door, your hands shaking. What if there's someone inside? What if someone is waiting to take their revenge for you destroying the cameras. What if they put new ones up? 

You should have opened the door while Price was here so you could have at least screamed when someone would hear you. You back away from your door slowly, deciding to wait in the rec room. At least there you might have a chance. You could break a window and run, or at least have a higher chance of making it to a door. 

Would anyone help you? Would anyone come if you screamed? What if they’re all in on it? 

You're shaking as you sink onto the couch, sitting so you can see into the hallway. You want to see them coming so you can prepare yourself, or at least give yourself a chance to make an escape before it’s too late. 

You run through all the things Ghost has taught you in your head as you sit and wait, the minutes dragging by painfully slow. You can feel every second, though that may just be the anxiety and fear pulsing within you. You wish you could sleep, you wish you could relax, you wish you could do anything to make the time go by faster, but yet you remain hypervigilant, staring so hard you flinch at every little shadow your brain convinces you is moving. 

You’re not sure how long you sit there, tense and coiled, ready to spring at a moment’s notice. It can’t be more than an hour as John promised, yet it feels like a lifetime before you hear movement. 

You hold your breath as the barracks door opens, boots thudding with every footstep coming down the hall. You nearly whimper when a figure rounds the corner, before you let out a sigh of relief. 

“Ready for lunch, kitten?” Johnny asks, standing in the doorway of the rec room. 

You swallow the lump in your throat, your hands still clenched into fists. You're breathing hard, your entire body tense. You know you're reaching dangerous territory. Any more panic, you may start distressing. What a welcome home for them, coming back to a distressed omega. They're probably exhausted, and here you are making a scene. 

Hands close around yours. Warm, calloused hands apply gentle pressure, slowly uncurling your fingers. Your hands are shaking, trembling just slightly. 

“Ye alright, kitten?” Johnny asks, kneeling in front of you. When he moved, you're not sure. 

“I-I'm not...” You start, your voice shaking. 

“Ye need tae eat.” He counters, as if he had read your mind, expected the answer.  

He's right. You're beginning to feel it gnawing in your stomach, something deeper than the anxiety. With all the stressing you've been doing, you know you need to eat something. Being hungry is not helping that any, either. 

“I don't want to go to the mess.” You say quickly, the words almost mushing together incoherently. “Too much.” 

Johnny sits back, staring at you for a moment before nodding in understanding. “Alright. That's fair. I'll let the lads know.”

He stands up, leaving you alone in the rec room again. You listen to his footsteps fade, the door opening and closing for a moment. You hold your breath, practically on the edge of your seat. There's no reason they would make you go to the mess. You've eaten in the barracks many times before. 

You blame your worry on your hunger. You know omegas don't do well when hungry. Omegas don't do well being uncomfortable in general. 

Saying these last few days have been uncomfortable for you is a bit of an oversimplification. 

Footsteps echo down the hallway, a familiar hulking figure approaching the rec room. You never thought there would come a time when you would feel relief upon seeing Ghost. Yet here you are, the tension easing from your shoulders as he steps into the rec room. 

“They're grabbing us food.” He says, moving to sit in his usual spot in the chair facing the door. He sighs as he sinks into the cushions, and you can only imagine how tired he must be. 

And here you are making things worse. 

“You're stressed.” He says, staring at you. His eyes are still painted black beneath his mask, adding to the eerie vibe coming off of him. You're beginning to understand why they call him Ghost. “Stinking up the barracks.” He says, pulling out his phone. 

“Oh.” You say quietly, sinking in on yourself as you sit there. “Sorry.” 

You pick nervously at your sweatshirt as you wait for the others to return, letting out a quiet sigh of relief as they enter the rec room, food in hand. 

Johnny sits you on his lap as you eat, making sure you get your fill, likely aware that you haven't eaten yet today thanks to Dr. Keller telling on you. It's quiet in the room as everyone eats, even the TV off. They all look tired and tense, and you can only imagine what happened during their time away. The things they did, the things they saw. You wonder how much blood is on their hands now, hands that have touched you, hands that are holding you. 

They can just go off and kill people and come back and act like nothing has happened. 

You could almost laugh at how psychotic it all sounds. 

This is your life now. This is your new normal. 

“We have a quick meeting. Shouldn't take too long.” John says as they stand, Johnny placing you gently on your feet. 

You tug at your sweatshirt, avoiding his gaze. They're leaving you again. They won't be far this time, but still. You just want to curl up in bed with them and lay there until you feel safe again. 

Tomorrow, John had said. Tomorrow they will be yours. 

It might have been easier if you hadn't been told they were coming home until tomorrow.

***

You tense under the blanket as the door closes, quiet footsteps approaching your position on the couch. There's a quiet sigh as a figure drops to a knee in front of you, their figure visible as a shadow beneath the blanket. 

“Can you breathe under there?” 

You slowly lower the blanket just enough to peek over the top of it. John is kneeling next to the couch, his brows furrowed in a frown. You're in his office, having shut yourself in there while they went into the meeting. John had made you swear not to go snooping as he’d let you inside. You had promised, as you still feel no desire to dig through the likely classified files that were locked in the cabinets and on his computer. Instead you had parked yourself on his couch, burrowing under a blanket that smelled faintly of petrichor and tobacco smoke. 

“There she is.” He says as you peek above the blanket, gently running a hand over the top of your head. “How are you holding up, sweetheart?” 

“You left me.” You say quietly, trying not to burst into tears and confess everything. 

“I know.” He says, wiping the tear that slides down your cheek. “But we came back, just like we promised.” 

He is right in that regard, yet you can’t help the tears as they slide down your cheeks. The ache in your chest that had started to build over the last few days is still present despite their return. Everything is wrong. They feel too far away, too distant. Nothing is safe anymore, nothing is sacred, and they’re just acting like everything is back to normal. 

“Would you like to kneel for me?” He asks, his thumb stroking your cheek. 

You’re tempted to say no. For the first time you feel wary of your alpha. What kinds of things would you admit in your dazed state? If he questioned you, would you give him enough to put together that something had happened and you’ve been trying to hide it from him? Maybe it would help, though. It would at least ease some of the tension that’s built up. Maybe it could pull you back from the edge of distress you’ve been dangling over for almost two days. Maybe he’ll accidentally scruff you and you can forget the whole thing happened. 

The dark thought sends a chill down your spine. 

“Okay.” You say, pushing yourself up to sit. 

John offers you a hand, helping you up off the couch. You don't want to let go of his hand, you don't want to be parted from him. The omega in the back of your mind is screaming at you to get close to him and stay there for the rest of time. If he leaves you again...you're not sure you can handle it. 

He settles in his desk chair, getting everything he needs ready. He'll work on his reports while you kneel, a familiar position, a familiar situation. You've done this before several times. You're not sure why you're suddenly nervous. 

You set the pillow down, dropping to your knees beside him. The chair creaks as he shifts slightly, his hand coming to rest on the back of your head. You fight the urge to flinch, to move away as he gently strokes his hand over your hair. You've done this before, he's done this before. You're not sure why your heart is thudding in your chest. 

His hand slowly moves lower, slipping closer and closer to your neck. You can't help it as your shoulders come up, preventing him from gripping the back of your neck. He moves his hand away as you get defensive, his chair turning slightly as he leans down. 

“It's alright, sweetheart. It's just me.” He soothes you, his hand returning to the top of your head. “I know it's been a while, but I promise I remember what to do.” 

“Sorry, sorry.” You gasp out, trying to relax. “I don't...I don't know...”

You do know. Your brain keeps flashing back to General Shepherd, his hand tugging down your collar, so close to your neck. How easily he could have scruffed you, if he'd wanted to. You would have known if he had, but he could have done anything to you during the time he had control. 

“You're stressed, all worked up.” John says, still stroking the top of your head, trying to soothe you. “It's been a long week for all of us. It was a risk, sending all four of us at once. A stupid risk that shouldn't have been taken.”

You're pulled from your emotional state at the slight hint of anger in his voice. It hadn't taken you long to figure out they likely were all sent in order to get you alone. It would have been impossible to get you out of the barracks and put cameras up with even one of them here. Did he know about Shepherd's visit? Had he put two and two together and figured out they sent all four of them on purpose? You figured he'd be angrier if he knew about what you did, about what they did to you. He would be blazing a path straight to General Shepherd if your alpha knew he got so close to you, put you in that kind of situation. 

At least, you hope he would. There’s still that fear in the back of your mind, that worry that it was all a test and you’ve failed. Would they send you back to the institute? Would they break the bonds and send you to a different pack? Would they send you out on your own, leaving you to fend for yourself until some other alpha crossed your path and decided you were worth it? Does he know you’re lying to him, hiding the truth of what happened while he was away? Is he waiting for you to confess, biding his time to see how long you try to hide it? 

You want to tell him. You really do, but you can't bring yourself to get the words out. You can't bring yourself to confess here on your knees before your alpha. You feel guilty, like a sinner, yet the shame keeps the words trapped inside. 

He continues to soothe you, sliding his hand further down until he reaches your neck. You force yourself to relax, knowing you need this. You need your alpha to take control. You need him to ease the heavy weight on your shoulders, even if he doesn't know what he's lifting. 

You close your eyes as his fingers press into your neck, your brain quieting to a hum as you begin to slip into the back of your mind. You feel the rush of endorphins as your brain begins to calm itself, quieting the storm that's been raging for almost a week. You begin to go numb, relaxing into John's hold as he eases you into a quiet, meditative state. He begins to work on his reports as he holds you, your mind floating off somewhere else, somewhere safer where no one can break in and hurt you, somewhere where the barracks are still secure and safe and your pack never left.

Somewhere where there's no initiative, and your pack picked you because they wanted you, because you were a good omega who did as she was told and didn't make stupid mistakes that put everyone in danger. 

The last of the tension leaves your body, your mind distant from the present moment. You're safe with your alpha. He'd never let anything happen to you. None of your pack would let anything happen to you.

The thought continues to repeat in your head like a mantra as you relax, held up by the strong pillar that is your alpha. 

***

“Report's done, Captain.” Kyle says, placing the stack of papers on John's desk. 

“Thanks.” John sighs, grabbing them. 

Kyle turns to look at you, fast asleep on the couch. “You want me to take her?” He asks, the formality easing between them as they settle into being a pack and not a task force on duty anymore. 

John stares at you, curled up on his lumpy old couch. It’s getting late, or at least it feels that way. You’ve been out, sleeping peacefully on his couch since he eased you out of your kneeling position. You’d clung to him tightly, and for a moment he’d considered holding you, letting you sit with him as you dozed, but he knows he can’t risk you seeing something you shouldn’t. So he’d eased you onto the couch, having to peel your hands away from his shirt. He’d nearly given up and let you keep hold of his shirt before you finally relaxed and released him. 

“Would probably be more comfortable.” He rubs his eyes, feeling the call of sleep himself. He wonders how much you managed to sleep while they were gone. You look tired, though you’ve been looking tired since your heat ended. He needs to rest himself, but he wants to get these reports done so he can keep his promise for tomorrow. “I'll be in there soon.”

“Don't work too hard.” Kyle says, moving to lift you off the couch. 

“No promises.” 

Kyle shakes his head before scooping you up off the couch, blanket and all. You’re still sound asleep as he carries you, pausing in the hallway for a moment. He had just been instinctually going to his room, but would you be more comfortable in your own room? You probably have spent the last week shut inside your space. It might be nice to spend some time somewhere else. 

He takes you into his room, laying you on the bed, making sure you’re comfortable. He needs to shower and throw his clothes in the wash, but he doesn’t want to leave you and risk you waking up without someone there. You’re sleeping deeply, though, not even stirring as he tucks the blanket up higher around you. He doesn't want to crawl into bed smelling like gunpowder and sweat. That might throw you off too. 

He takes the risk, knowing he can do both tasks quickly. No more than twenty minutes to get himself clean and his dirty clothes in the wash, as he prays you stay asleep and won't start panicking if you wake in a strange place. He had sensed how close you had been to distress, how tense you had been when he held you in the car. It’s been a hard week for you, even harder than it had been for them. 

He breathes out a quiet sigh of relief as he finds you still asleep when he returns to his room. You haven't moved at all, still tucked under the blanket from John's office. He gets himself changed and moisturized, rubbing some cream on the bruises that dot his skin. He's going to be sore tomorrow, they all will be, but he knows they won't be doing much. John had already told them tomorrow will be dedicated to spending time with you and helping you recover from the stress of them being gone. He’s silently glad for the break, knowing it could only be a few days before they get called out again. 

John had also told him he’d be pushing harder for one of them to stay whenever he can. He’s not taking this risk again, not if it can be avoided. 

Kyle’s pulling on his sweatpants when you inhale sharply. You're sitting up straight on his bed, eyes wide as you look around in fear. They’re hazy, confusion settling into your mind after going from John’s office to Kyle’s room after kneeling. 

“Hey, hey. It's alright.” Kyle says, moving over to the bed, taking a seat on the edge so he’s in your line of sight. “You're just in my room.”

“Kyle?” You whisper, clarity returning to your gaze as you stare at him. 

“I'm here.” He says. “Just went to take a shower and clean up.”

“Where's John?” You ask, tears gathering in your eyes. 

“Still working on things.” He says, cupping your face. “He'll be in eventually.”

The tears fall from your eyes, sliding down your cheeks. They wet his thumbs as he strokes your skin, your body trembling slightly as you sniffle. 

Something’s wrong. He's known it since you latched onto him on the tarmac. The way you'd held onto him like he might disappear, how you looked almost angry when John told you they still had things to do, the way your scent had filled the barracks, bitter with fear and stress. 

Something’s up, something you're not letting them in on. But, to be fair, they had just left you for a week, up and abandoned you to go play heroes. He wouldn't blame you for not telling them anything. The bonds have weakened. He can feel it, beyond just his natural beta senses. 

“What can I do?” He asks quietly, trying to project his scent a bit to help calm you. He doesn't want you distressing, not after holding it together for so long. 

“I...I need...” You inhale shakily, still trembling in his hold. “I don't know.” You whine, the tears falling faster now. 

He pulls you against his chest, holding you as you cry. He feels the tugging in his chest, sympathy for you and what you must be feeling, along with the guilt of knowing they caused this. They did this just with their absence. 

An idea begins to form in his mind as he holds you, something his family used to do when he was younger. 

He pulls away from you, standing up. “Come on. I have an idea.” 

He strips the blankets from his bed before pulling the mattress off the frame. He drags it to the door and out into the hallway before heading down to John's room. You follow behind him, watching him as he opens the door to John’s room, dragging the mattress in and dropping it on the floor. 

“Stay here.” He tells you, heading back out into the hallway.

“What're ye doin’?” Johnny asks, sticking his head out of his door. 

“Grab your mattress and Simon and meet me in Price's room.” Kyle says as he heads down the hallway, ignoring Johnny's further questioning as he makes for John’s office. 

He doesn't bother knocking, walking right in. John blinks at him from behind the desk, and for a moment Kyle wonders if he'd fallen asleep sitting up. It wouldn't be the first time. 

“Come on.” Kyle says, moving to stand in front of his desk. “Finish those tomorrow.”

“They're important, I have to get them done asap.” John counters. 

“Yeah, well I have something more important.” He leans forward at John's questioning stare. “Your omega needs you.” 

John stares at his beta for a moment, and Kyle can see the gears turning in his head, the debate happening, the conflict in his mind. He so rarely sees his alpha, his captain so indecisive for so long. He's usually so quick to act, analyzing a situation and making a decision in mere seconds. 

If only you knew the things you've done by simply existing in their lives. 

John closes the file on his desk, slipping it into the drawer before locking it. Kyle fights the triumphant grin threatening to form on his face as John stands from his chair after shutting his computer off. Kyle makes his way back down the hallway, John following behind after locking his office door. Kyle stops at his room, grabbing his comforter before heading for John’s room. 

Johnny had obviously gotten the idea of what Kyle had in mind, his mattress and John's laid out side by side so the three make one giant bed for them on the floor. He’s already laid out his own comforter and Simon’s, as well as John’s on the mattresses. They probably wouldn’t need blankets for long with their body heat, but the blend of scents will hopefully begin to ease the tempest raging in your mind. 

You’ve parked yourself in the corner, watching it all happen. You seem so small, so lost, so out of place. It's not all that different from when you'd arrived in their lives. Has being gone for a week really reverted things so drastically for you? Has your stress broken the bonds so much that you feel like a stranger amongst them again? 

Kyle steps over the mattresses, approaching you slowly. You look up from where you had been staring off into space, blinking up at him. Your eyes are still red and watery from crying, your arms clutching one of your stuffed bears against your chest. It’s the one John had scented for you, back when they were trying to get you to nest. He wonders if you’ve nested since they left, if that urge is still there, or if that too has faded. 

Kyle doesn’t often feel angry at his job. Not anymore. He doesn’t often question it. It’s what he signed up for, and he does it because someone has to. He chose this life, so he does his best to be a good soldier, to follow orders. Yet, as he stares down at you, he can’t help but feel anger bristling in the back of his mind. He tries to blame it on his instincts, on the fact that a member of his pack is so upset, so distressed at something that’s happened, and he doesn't know what to do to help. 

Yet he knows they were the cause of it, even if it wasn’t their choice directly. Something happened because of them. He tries to rationalize it. This is an experiment, a test to see how well packs will do with omegas, if it has any effect on how well they can do their jobs, if it makes them stronger, or if it weakens them. Those in charge had obviously put little regard in for how it would affect the omegas. They couldn’t have known how you would react, how badly all of them leaving would affect you. Or maybe they did know, and they simply didn’t care.. Perhaps you weren’t the focus of their study, but you were still a variable, you were still an important piece of this puzzle. 

How can they be more effective if their omega is struggling because of their absence? How can they be expected to function like a team now knowing leaving behind their omega will only cause distress for all of them? 

Kyle takes a deep breath, pushing back the anger and the emotions whirling in his own mind. He needs to focus on you right now, focus on helping you relax, helping you get back to where you were before they left you. He’s doing the best he can do right now for you, giving you what you need, even if you don’t realize it’s what you need yet. 

He holds out his hand to you, staying still as you stare at it. It takes you a moment before you slowly begin to move, slipping one of your hands into his. He guides you to the mattress in the middle, Johnny’s mattress, easing you down to sit on it. You glance around as Johnny and John toss pillows onto the mattresses haphazardly, making sure everything is perfect. It’s not a pretty nest, he’d hardly call it a nest at all, but he knows nesting is not necessarily all about looks. It’s about feeling, and right now, he knows you need to feel safe and secure. 

John quickly changes into more comfortable clothes as Kyle stretches out on the mattress, opening his arms to you. You curl up against his side, resting your cheek against his chest. You press your face into his skin, inhaling for a moment before you settle, slowly beginning to relax in his hold. 

Simon enters the room as John settles on Kyle’s other side, closing the door behind him and locking it, securing the five of you inside. Johnny settles on the other side of you, pressing up close against your back. He pulls one of the comforters up around the three of you before he tosses an arm around you, resting his hand on Kyle’s stomach, sandwiching you between the two betas again. 

Simon stands over the makeshift nest, staring down at the four of you. He’s obviously the most uncomfortable with the situation, and still a bit miffed from your lack of greeting on the tarmac. It was his own fault for being so closed off with you for so long. You had instinctively sought out the members of the pack you felt the most connected to, the most comfortable with in your time of such great stress. 

“Aw come on, ye big bastard, get in the bed.” Soap says, snapping Simon out of his reverie. 

Simon shuts the light off, bathing them in near darkness. You tense for a moment as the lights go off before you slowly relax again. Kyle listens to your breaths even out as Simon gets comfortable on the mattress behind Johnny, the four of them settling in around you. 

It's already warm in the room but none of them would even think of complaining. They’re too focused on surrounding you with their scent and their protection, the very thing you need the most. 

NEXT ->

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[matchingbatbites]

praline sweet

Mature | 1.8k | Read on Ao3

This is a belated birthday gift for @tboyeddie! Sorry this took so long, I had like 4 versions of this going at once and couldn't figure out which one to actually use! I wanted to give you something soft, though, so hopefully this fits the bill! <3

CW: Omegaverse, Alpha Eddie, Omega Steve, Pre-heat fluff, Rated mature for a little dirty talk and some indecent thoughts

The call is unexpected, when it comes. Robin's voice is familiar on the other end of the line, but what she says-

“Hey, Steve hit his pre-heat today, and the party is bringing him stuff to add to his nest, just to make our scents stronger. Pick out a t-shirt or something and bring it over when you have the chance, yeah?”

Eddie blinks, almost pulls the phone away to look at it, make sure it's real, because what?

“I uh, I didn't know Steve was so close to his heat.”

“Yeah, it's kind of early, but he said that's not weird. All you need to worry about is bringing something to add to his nest. Got it, loverboy?”

That's kind of a big deal. Omegas in pre-heat want to be surrounded by the scents of their pack, to have that sense of familiarity as their bodies slowly adjust in preparation for what is basically a three day sex marathon. This is Steve's first heat that Eddie is really aware of. He'd apparently had one a couple of weeks after the spring break from hell, but Eddie had still been hospitalized at that point. 

So now, three months later, Steve's heat seems to be right on time. The fact that he apparently wants Eddie's scent in his nest makes the alpha nearly kick into a purr. It ignites something deeper, too, the desire to bundle Steve up in the nest, to hold him and keep him safe, to stretch him open on the alpha's cock and help him through his heat instead of leaving him to suffer alone-

And yeah, killing that train of thought immediately while he's still on the phone with Steve's best friend. 

“Yeah, sure. I'll head over this afternoon.”

“Perfect. Thanks, Eddie.”

Eddie can't resist bringing a few things with him to Steve's. He grabs a couple of shirts, soft ones he's worn so much that they nearly have holes in them, and an old sweatshirt that used to belong to Wayne, that Eddie snagged for his own not long after he moved in.

Somehow, Eddie makes himself wait until after lunch before he heads to the Harrington house. He's nervous the entire ride over, only because he doesn't know how this is going to go. 

The thing between him and Steve is new, like three-weeks-old new, like only-Robin-knows new. It's a gentle bond built through joking and talking and just spending time together, and it's so, so fragile, at least to Eddie. 

Because Eddie's never dated anyone - much less courted an omega before. What if he fucks it up? What if he does something wrong that makes Steve break up with him and their friendship is ruined and Robin fucking kills him for hurting Steve? Fears that he has yet to voice, that he’s shoved to the back of his mind every time he's seen Steve since they started dating.

He tries to shake it off, but he’s still nervous as he rings the bell, announcing his arrival. It’s not long before the door swings open to reveal Steve on the other side. He looks a bit rumpled and sleepy, like he’d been napping before Eddie showed up, but he chirps when he recognizes the man on his doorstep. 

Eddie grins as Steve blushes at the involuntary reaction, but doesn't comment on it. “Hey, Stevie. Robin said you needed some stuff for your nest, so I brought you a few things.”

The omega seems to melt a bit at the gesture, and the scent of praline pecans fills the entryway as Steve says “Thanks, Eds. You wanna come in?”

Eddie nods and follows Steve inside, waiting briefly for the younger to lock the door behind them before he guides Eddie up the stairs to his room. He passes the clothing over to Steve, who immediately takes one of the shirts and presses it to his face, inhaling Eddie’s own black tea and clove scent.

“I didn’t realize your heat was so close,” Eddie says as he props his hip against the desk, and Steve glances at him as he begins to add the shirt into his nest.

“Yeah, it’s actually early. I was gonna talk to you about it, but I wasn’t expecting it so soon. I, uh. I think being around you made it happen faster.”

Eddie tamps down the alpha pride that swells at the admission, that Steve’s omega is reacting to him, to his presence. “Well, we can talk about it now, if you want?” he asks instead, and Steve turns to look at him, the second shirt in his hands. He wrings it nervously before turning and tucking it into the walls of the nest, a bit closer to the head of it this time - easier to smell. Eddie’s Alpha preens. 

With that task done, Steve takes a breath and turns to face Eddie once again.

“I like you, Eddie. Like a lot. I had some time to get to know you even before we started dating, and I really, really like you. I know we’ve only been together a few weeks, so it feels way too soon to ask you to spend my heat with me - I don’t want you to feel like you have to, just because you’re my alpha - but I’d really love it if you would stay for some of my pre-heat? If you want to, no uh, no pressure or anything.”

His alpha. Steve called Eddie his alpha. 

Eddie’s been so worried, so scared of fucking things up that he’s been taking it slow, carefully feeling out each step before moving on to the next. He hadn’t realized that Steve was so far ahead, that he was already so comfortable with claiming Eddie as his after only a few weeks of dating, not even courting yet. And Eddie wonders-

He’d already been half in love when he asked Steve out. Had Steve felt the same? 

For the first time since he decided to take that chance, to ask Steve on a date, Eddie’s worries disappear as Steve’s claim instantly quells the alpha’s fears. He crosses the room to stand in front of Steve, and can’t resist reaching out to touch him, one hand settling on Steve’s neck and the other on his waist. The omega hums softly and leans into the contact, and Eddie smiles.

“Stevie, sweetheart, honey. I would love to stay with you; for your pre-heat or your full heat, whatever you want.”

Steve blinks at him, hazel eyes wide with surprise. “You don’t have to, Eddie-”

Eddie shakes his head. “I know, but I want to. Gotta make sure my omega is taken care of during his heat, yeah?”

Hands snap to grab Eddie’s shirt as Steve actually trills, the sound high and delighted before it shifts into a pleased purr. Eddie laughs and tugs Steve into a sweet kiss, and feels the vibrations against his hands, his lips. It quickly peters off into a gentle hum as they just stay there, holding each other and trading soft kisses.

“I am a little disappointed,” Steve says after a moment. “I was kind of hoping we could have our first time before my heat hit.”

Eddie shrugs and rubs his thumb over the twin moles on Steve’s cheek. “I mean, we still have a few days, technically. If you're, you know, feeling up to it. If not, our first time doesn't have to be during your heat. I can help you this time without fucking you.”

“You say that, until I’m in the middle of it, crying and begging you to fuck me, to come in me and knock me up.”

And fuck, the mental image that conjures up. Eddie takes a deep breath to settle his Alpha, to calm the sudden desire that shoots through him at just the thought of it. The scent of sweet praline floods his senses, and he can practically taste the teasing undertone as Steve grins at him, clearly aware of what he’s doing.

Eddie gives a playful growl and goes to respond, but is cut off when Steve's hand shoots up to his face, covering his mouth as he yawns wide. He forgot that Steve had been sleeping when he showed up, and probably hasn’t slept enough to satisfy his instincts. 

“Is this what the next few days are gonna be like? Lots of naps?”

“Not just naps. There’s also cramps and snacking,” Steve corrects, and Eddie just shakes his head fondly. He reaches over to grab the sweatshirt and passes it to Steve. “Well, let’s get you back to bed, then. I need to run back home and grab some stuff since I’m staying, and I’ll feel better knowing you’re all cozied up and safe.”

Steve smiles, something soft and gooey, but as he takes the sweatshirt and holds it up, reading the logo on it, it shifts. He looks at Eddie, unimpressed but with a teasing shine in his eyes as he says “Atlanta Braves? Really?”

Eddie just shrugs and doesn’t bother to hide his grin. “Wayne's from Georgia.”

The omega just shakes his head before pulling off the sweater he’s currently wearing and slipping on the navy sweatshirt. “This feels wrong,” he says even as he tucks his nose into the collar, eyes fluttering as he inhales the alpha’s scent, and Eddie chuckles.

“I’m sure the Cubbies will forgive you this one time, sugar.”

Steve rolls his eyes but smiles as he climbs into the nest, and Eddie watches as he bundles himself up in the soft blankets. He looks so fucking cozy, and the alpha can’t resist leaning down to press a kiss to Steve’s forehead. “I'll be back soon, okay?” he says, earning a soft chirp from the sleepy omega.

It only takes Eddie about half an hour to collect what he needs and get back to the Harrington house, and Steve is still asleep when he makes his way back into the bedroom. He toes off his shoes and shakes the omega gently, trying to wake him as carefully as possible.

“Stevie?” he says and gets a soft grumble in response. Eddie huffs a laugh and tries again. “Baby, I’m not gonna get in your nest without permission. You gotta invite me in, sweetheart.”

Some part of Steve’s sleepy mind must recognize what Eddie’s asking, because a hand appears from the mess of blankets to grab Eddie’s shirt and tugs him closer. The alpha smiles and lets himself be pulled forward until he’s laying with Steve, their arms wrapped around each other and Steve’s face pressed into his neck.

Eddie’s purr rumbles low in his chest as he starts to doze, and the room is flooded with the scent of spiced pecans and home.

[inkstainedheartbeats]

Part three of this

It’s three days after the negative pregnancy test. Three days of Steve practically tiptoeing around their apartment. And Eddie knows that it’s not personal. That Steve doesn’t even realize how soft and meek he’s gotten. Like a solid seventy-five percent of Hawkins his parents were both Betas. He knows that things weren’t shiny and happy in the Harrington household. That habits are hard to break. Look at him and his food hiding habits he still has even after living with the god amongst men that is his Uncle.

Robin knows. Robin knew the moment that Eddie called to tell her she needed to find another ride in to work. The Beta woman hasn’t left Steve’s side. Stuck to him like a limpet.

They’re sitting at the table. Steve across from Eddie, their feet touching, with Robin resting her head on Steve’s shoulder. Breakfast is growing cold in front of them.

“You said some of it was me,” Steve starts off before cutting himself off. He takes a big bite out of his eggs. Robin makes an encouraging sound from next to him.

“Look, I slept through most of health class. But when we got serious I went to Uncle Wayne.”

Admitting this gets him small smiles, Robin even reaches a hand over to place on his. He knows she’ll always take Steve’s side, that to love one means to love the other so this act of kindness is… it makes him brave.

“One of the reasons that Alphas don’t tend to bare children isn’t just society being fucking sexist. It’s because Alphas produce a hormone that neither of the other secondaries can. And like, normally it doesn’t matter. But it makes pregnancies harder on Alphas. Wayne gave me all sorts of pamphlets on Alpha health, got me in contact with an Alpha ex of his.”

He’s squeezing Robin’s hand.

“I can’t loose you, Steve. I know we’re waiting to Mark each other, I understand why we’re waiting but even without the physical evidence of it, you are my Mate. And if I lost you?”

It was the threat of losing Steve to Vecna that had him breaking the control the bastard had on him. It was the sight of Steve bleeding yet again, standing in front of El, head tilted back like Chrissy’s that had him snapping. Steve was it for him. His heart knew it before his head did and he knows Steve is much the same. He saw proof of it in how skinny Steve was. How rumpled and ill kept he was.

“I am open to children. I would love to see you round and waddling with my pups inside you, Steve, but I am a coward.”

“You’re not. You’re not a coward, Eds.”

Steve’s pushed back his chair from the table. Clambered up onto his lap. Wide hands are buried deep in his hair. They’re not kissing, not yet. Not with Robin in the room. Because kissing like this never stays kissing and while Steve tells her everything she doesn’t want a front row seat to it all.

Steve pours out his own fears. Of his father. Of his mother who tried but still failed in the grand scheme of things. His health.

“I’ve had so many concussions, Eds. Literal brain damage that will some day come and bite me in the ass.”

They’re honest with each other with Robin as their witness. It feels like confession. It feels like marriage. Like a divine oath.

“You make me feel brave, Eds. I’m not scared of this with you at my side.”

“Lady Buckley, might I advise you to flee this luxurious castle for… a couple of hours? I need to show my King just how brave he makes me feel.”

———/———/———/———/———/——

He’s still scared shitless when they test again. It’s been six months and Eddie has fucked Steve on nearly every available surface at every opportunity he can. His stomach rolls and breakfast threatens to make a reappearance. But Steve is in his lap while they sit in the tub.

He’s not quite sure why they have to be in here but something about bathrooms makes Steve feels safe so this is where he sits. He squeezes Steve tight against him as they wait for time to move on by. When the scent of joy fills the bathroom he laughs.

“Thank fuck,” he breathes out.

“Yeah, thank fuck,” Steve echos.

And if they fuck like rabbits in that tub no one has to know.

———/———/———/———/———/——

Hope you don’t mind me tagging you in the resolution @xxbottlecapx

[evansbby]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐁𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐈𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞 (𝐏𝐎𝐘𝐓 𝐏𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐥)

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: dark alpha!Steve Rogers x naive omega!Reader

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: dark Steve, heavy misogyny, a/b/o dynamics, stalking, smut, daddy!kink, swearing, 18+, minors dni!

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: You walk into the lecture hall and Steve doesn’t know how to act.

𝐀/𝐍: Well, it’s finally here! This is a prequel of my fic Preying on You Tonight, completely in the point of view of everyone’s favourite toxic king, Steve! This is around 11k words. Please enjoy!

The first time Steve sees you, it’s like he suddenly can’t breathe. And the funniest thing is, he doesn’t even see you at first – he senses you, as ridiculous as that sounds. He’s just sitting there in the middle of the lecture hall, prodding the back of Bucky’s head as his friend lays slumped over on his desk, looking comically hungover – dark eyebags, rumpled clothes, red eyes – the works.

And then Steve feels this strange sensation, this prickling feeling at the back of his neck that makes his heart beat faster too. Almost like he’s nervous or anxious – which is stupid because Steve is never nervous or anxious. Even during the biggest football games of the season, with hordes of people in the crowd and even NFL recruiters watching, Steve still doesn’t break a sweat.

So, why does it suddenly feel like all the air’s been forced out of his lungs?

And then it hits him. It’s only the tiniest hint of the most incredible scent that he’s ever smelled, but it hits him like a fucking freight train. He remembers being really young, and his mother would grow magnolias in her garden. He remembers being almost obsessed with the smell, and inexplicably being drawn to the garden countless times before temptation finally gave in and he plucked a handful of the delicate flower, smelling it greedily.

His mother had just laughed – she never got angry at him. And Steve still remembers how he’d clutched the flowers tightly in his little fist all throughout lunch; because now that he had them, he could never let them go. And they smelled so intoxicatingly good – creamy and sweet, like vanilla with swirls of lemon. They smelled like spring, and Steve always liked spring. He’d kept the flowers by his bedside table (in his drawer, so his dad wouldn’t see).

But soon enough, the flowers had wilted – and that had made Steve mad. “What’s it gonna take to keep them alive?!” He’d demanded his mother, probably only about five years old yet angry at the world and angry at his flowers for dying on him. And his mother had patted his head, and soothed him with kisses.

“Love, Stevie. It takes love to keep them alive. Love, and patience and nurturing.”

And Steve remembers looking at his mother, then looking down at his poor, dead magnolias… A beat passing before he’d promptly thrown them to the ground and stomped all over them. If they were weak enough to just die like that, then he had no use for them. No matter how good they smelled.

But now, in the lecture hall on the first day of his senior year of college, Steve smells those magnolias again. Creamy and seductive yet reminding him of innocence, and youth, and memories of spring and new life. Just the right level of sweet, tickling his nostrils pleasantly, before he takes the deepest whiff of his life, like he just can’t get enough of the addicting smell.

And then he sees you.

Half-hidden by the most outrageously large hoodie he’s ever seen, with your books clutched to your chest and the shyest little smile on your face, you tentatively enter the lecture hall and Steve feels like his heart has stopped.

But… why?

He’s not blind – he can see you’re pretty. Very pretty. Softly pretty, is how Steve would describe it if he had to. All shy and hesitant as you make your way into the gigantic lecture hall, like a little butterfly in a jungle. He sees how you smile around, but you don’t seem to know anyone because you take a seat in the front row all by yourself, looking all intimidated and scared and excited and nervous, all rolled into one. And it creates the most attractive combination and he can’t stop staring at you.

You’re an omega, you have to be, judging by your demeanour and your scent – although the intoxicating smell seems to be fading away slowly as the minutes go by. And Steve wonders what exactly you’re doing here. There are barely any girls in this class – and absolutely no omegas. In Steve’s opinion, a World Politics class is no place for an omega to be hanging around – especially one as weak and delicate-looking as you. Maybe you’re lost, because you don’t look like you belong here at all, not in this lecture, and not in this university either – or any other university for that matter.

Steve firmly believes that omegas like you should be at home – cooking or cleaning or waiting patiently on all fours to be fucked by alphas like himself. And that thought – as out of the blue as it was – immediately has his cock thickening in his slacks.

But you stick out like a sore thumb, with your patchy little book bag that looks like it’s been DIY-ed out of a pair of old jeans, and your little sneakers that are still scuffed even though he can tell you’ve tried to scrub them clean and polish them and make them look new. You’re not from here, you’re not like the people he’s grown up with. He’s never seen you before – who the hell are you?

And why do you smell so good?

“Well, well, well – fresh meat.” Bucky is suddenly no longer hungover, eyes alert as he follows Steve’s gaze and locks in on you.

Tiny, little you in the front row of the lecture hall, unpacking all your textbooks and already starting with your notes despite the fact that the lecture hasn’t even begun yet. What could you possibly be writing down? The damn date?

And Steve feels an inexplicable wave of irritation because it’s not just Bucky who’s staring at you. He can see Thor, Andy, Ransom and Curtis, amongst others, lean forward with sick interest gleaming in their eyes at the sight of a little omega like you in their midst.

“She’s gorgeous.” Bucky whistles lowly, nudging Sam, who is also staring at you appreciatively. And it makes Steve want to gouge both their fucking eyes out. And he’s trying to keep his cool but it’s hard to do that when his breath seems to hitch every time he looks at you, and it’s confusing the fuck out of him because you’re just some random omega. And never before has an omega got a reaction like this out of him before.

“She’s probably lost.” Sam snorts, “I wonder if she’s an omega.”

Steve blinks, “She is. Can’t you smell her?”

The two alphas shake their heads before Bucky leans forward on the table to get a better look at you, “She’s probably on suppressants, but she looks like an omega. All shy and weak and shit.” He licks his lips, “That’s really fucking hot, if you ask me.”

Nobody fucking asked you! Steve wants to sneer but he manages to control himself.

“I call dibs.” Bucky announces, sitting up straight and baring his teeth like some sort of comical predator, and never in his life has Steve felt more irritation than how he does right now. Actually, irritation is an understatement – if Bucky wasn’t his best friend since childhood, he’d definitely have punched him in the face or at least verbally insulted him enough to knock him down a few pegs.

Suddenly, Steve’s happy that you’re wearing that ridiculously large hoodie because at least your body’s shielded from all the less-than-innocent gazes that seem to be drinking you in from all angles. And how fucking dare they look at you? When Steve saw you first? Smelled you first??

She’s way below my league, Steve has to remind himself. He’s Steve Rogers, star alpha quarterback and captain of the football team. From one of the most distinguished families in New York, with a future in both the NFL and politics, both with his own talent and his father’s connections.

And then there’s you. With your clothes that clearly look like they’re hand-me-downs, and your scuffed trainers and the fact that you’re probably a nobody scholarship student fresh out of some trashy, no-good neighbourhood. Nope, Steve knows he’s leagues above you, and he knows that the lucky omega he ends up with will be from an esteemed and traditional family. And that’s definitely not you.

So then why does his heart skip a fucking beat when he sees you smile softly at the professor who has just entered the room? And why does he want to rip the professor’s heart out and feed it to him for daring to smile back at you? Dumb fucking asshole professor… Steve could have him fired in a heartbeat. How dare he look at you, how dare Bucky look at you, how dare anyone look at you–

“She’s fucking the professor.”

“Huh?” Bucky stops dead in the middle of explaining his elaborate plan to seduce the class’s newest omega. “What did you say?”

Steve runs his hand through his hair and shoots his friend a smug smile, “I recognise her now. I saw her earlier today when I went to the professor’s office. He had her bent over his desk – and I’m sure it wasn’t the first time.” The lies roll off his tongue smooth as butter, and he feels not a pang of remorse as he watches the dreamy look on Bucky’s face morph into one of disgust.

“Yeah, she’s just a trashy bimbo omega from some small hick town,” Steve continues, relishing the gullible looks of immediate disdain on both Bucky and Sam’s faces. And he knows word will spread fast – it always does around here. “And I’m pretty sure I heard a rumour about a girl sleeping with the dean to gain admission – that was definitely about her too.”

Sam scoffs, “So she’s probably a stupid no-brain slut. As if this place wasn’t going downhill already, now they’re taking in hick-town omegas too.”

Steve narrows his eyes at Bucky, who is still staring longingly at you.

“Hey, Buck. Speaking of slutty omegas – Natasha was asking about you the other day.”

The brunette tears his gaze away from you, “She was?”

Lying comes quite easily to Steve. “Yeah, Sharon mentioned it. Maybe you should give her a call, I know Nat’s an easy slut but at least she doesn’t fuck professors and deans to get herself through college, right?”

Manipulating his friends is almost as easy as lying, and Steve smirks as Bucky finally nods and gets his phone out. And Steve leans back, letting out a sigh of relief because he knows word travels fast, and soon none of these half-wit alphas would be giving you a second glance. And maybe a small part of him knows that spreading this rumour is unfair on you, but in a way, he’s doing you a favour. He’s just protecting you, isn’t he? From all the unwanted attention?

***

Bucky: Heads up, your girlfriend is about to walk in through the front door.

Steve stares at the text for a few seconds, mild irritation brewing inside him. But he feels no real sense of panic or urgency as he glances down at the girl on her knees in front of him – Priya or Ria or something, he can’t remember. Not that it matters anyways. He tugs on her hair, smirking as she protests with her mouth full of his cock.

“Hurry up. My girlfriend’s on her way over.” He informs Priya/Ria, who starts sputtering and trying to push herself off him but Steve keeps her head in place, lazily thrusting in and out of her mouth as he quickly texts Bucky back.

Steve: Stall her for a few minutes.

Bucky replies with a thumbs up and Steve tosses his phone aside, trying to focus on what’s right in front of him. And in this case, it’s a scantily clad girl whose head is currently bobbing up and down on his dick. Steve sighs, clutching her hair harder and increasing the pace of his thrusts, wanting to cum quickly and get rid of her straight after.

He’d already fucked her half an hour ago before taking a smoke break during which she’d unfortunately stuck around. And there’s a part of Steve that doesn’t even care, that wants Sharon to walk in on him getting blown by some random bitch. And it isn’t the first time he’s cheated on her either. The way Steve sees it, why stick to one girl when you could have every single one? And he’s confident that there isn’t a single girl at this university who wouldn’t spread her legs for him.

And then his thoughts fall on you. Fragile, innocent little omega who is now forever labelled as the campus slut. But would you spread your legs for him? Steve bets you’re inexperienced, judging by how shy and studious you look, but that doesn’t mean he can’t get you to sleep with him. Fuck, he can’t help but imagine you on your knees in front of him, eyes wide as saucers and tears dripping down your cheeks as he fucks your face. Shit. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

He cums embarrassingly quickly, images of you pouting and crying as he shoves his big dick down your throat flashing before his eyes. And God, he knows he can do better than you, better than some lowlife scholarship omega with scuffed trainers and a dumbly peculiar taste in oversized hoodies. Yet he can’t understand why just the singular thought of you blowing him had him cumming faster than Sharon or any of the other girls ever could.

He doesn’t really have time to mull over any of this, however, shoving Priya/Ria off his dick and tossing her clothes at her while she sputters on the floor.

“Get dressed, Sharon’s downstairs.” Steve tucks his dick back into his sweats before grabbing his phone and settling down on his bed.

“Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God, why didn’t you tell me she was coming over today? You know she’s head cheerleader this year? If she sees me here, she’ll kick me off the squad!” Priya/Ria laments but Steve is already bored, finding a random Tetris game on his phone more interesting than whatever this bitch is spewing as he lets out a yawn.

Priya/Ria complains and panics for the next three minutes, and Steve doesn’t spare her a second glance as she grumbles her way out the window. Annoying slut. Speaking of which, Sharon bursts into his room not three seconds after Priya/Ria leaves.

“Baby!” Sharon squeals, launching herself at him at top speed, and Steve holds onto her waist gingerly, letting her cover his face in kisses. “I missed you so much!”

She’d been skiing in Vermont with her family for the past two weeks, and it had been a damn good two weeks for Steve. Quiet and peaceful without his girlfriend’s dumb chatter acting as an incessant background noise to his thoughts. In fact, he wouldn’t have minded if she’d extended her trip and stayed away for another two weeks, because hooking up with other girls sure was a lot easier when she was gone.

“I thought about you every night, babe. I really wish you’d come with me!” She gushes, flipping her blonde hair over her shoulders as she straddles his hips. God. Now he has to make conversation with her and pretend he’s interested in her dumb bullshit family life. How has he been keeping up this act for two years now? I mean sure, Sharon’s a good fuck but she’s not that good.

“I told you, it’s football season.” He yawns, hoping she’ll get the hint and fuck off. Or she could stay, he didn’t really care as long as she kept quiet. But Sharon does the complete opposite, instead launching into a whole account about how he should have been there and how good the snow was and how many new outfits she bought and how many pictures she took and blah blah blah. Honestly, all her mindless chatter does is consolidate the fact that he needs to break up with her soon.

“And I would’ve come up to you sooner but Bucky kept talking to me.” Sharon wrinkles her nose, absentmindedly tracing shapes on his chest before laying her head down on it and snuggling up into him. “I think he has a crush on me.”

Steve snorts at that, “Bucky does not have a crush on you.”

She whips her head up, “What makes you so sure?”

Because me and Bucky have the exact same taste in girls and it’s not you, Steve wants to say but he manages to refrain. “He likes quiet girls,” Steve finds himself saying instead except he’s talking more about himself now, “Shy girls who know their place.”

Sharon rolls her eyes, “All you alphas are stuck in the past, aren’t you?” She sighs before bumping her nose against his, “It’s a good thing I lucked out with you, babe. Can you imagine where we’d be if you hadn’t asked me out sophomore year?”

I’d probably be free, Steve thinks to himself. In many ways, he’d been a different person two years ago when he’d asked Sharon out for the first time. He’d always been traditional, wanting to settle down with the right omega after he graduated, definitely have a few children. And even if he had thought Sharon would be his long-term girlfriend-turned wife by the end of college – he certainly didn’t think that anymore.

Nope, Sharon wouldn’t be the one he’d be marrying, she was useful for a good fuck now and again but nothing more than that, not wife material. She definitely wouldn’t be the omega who would eventually carry his children and his legacy.

And then for some unexplained reason, Steve’s mind shifts to you. How shy you were in class, how you kept to yourself with your eyes downcast. He may have falsely labelled you as the campus slut but he was sure you were a virgin, or extremely inexperienced at the very least. And then an image flashes through his mind: you, all knocked up and round with his baby. In a pretty dress of his choosing, cooking him dinner with an obedient smile on your face. Fuck. He feels his cock harden almost immediately.

“Ooh, you missed me, didn’t you?” Sharon sits back up and grinds down on his crotch with a mischievous smile on her face. “I can’t believe you went without sex for two whole weeks. It must’ve been torture for you.”

“You can’t even imagine.” Steve says distractedly. Sharon’s pulling his sweats down and undressing herself but he’s still got his mind on you. God, you’d look so sexy if he got you pregnant. He wouldn’t allow you to wear your stupid hoodies anymore. No, it would be all skirts and dresses – how an omega is supposed to dress. And then he’d bend you over and fuck you real good, like you’ve never been fucked before. Or maybe he’d let you ride him, all pregnant and weepy and shy on top of him, your eyes shining like you worship him…

He's painfully hard now, and Sharon’s jerking him off while he pretends it’s you. You, all innocent and unsure of what you’re doing. Looking up at him and begging him to tell you how to do it, how to please your alpha. You’re a stupid, no-good scholarship omega who is clearly below his league, but in this moment all Steve can think about it how goddamn fucking sexy you’d look holding his cock, or sucking it – or sitting on it.

“Mm, keep going, baby.” Steve murmurs, pretending like you’re in front of him right now instead of his insufferable girlfriend. “Make daddy feel good.”

He’s so deep into his daydream that he doesn’t even notice that Sharon is fully undressed until he feels her line the tip of his dick against her leaking hole. He manages to swat her off just in time, reaching out to rummage through his nightstand drawer and tossing a condom at her.

Sharon’s face falls before she scoffs, “You know, I wouldn’t mind if you didn’t use protection. You never used to.”

“Just put it on.” Steve isn’t in the mood for her bullshit. If he fucked her raw, then she’d most likely get pregnant. Then he’d have to marry her and take care of her – which wouldn’t be ideal, especially since he’s now planning on breaking up with her. But he’s happy he’s trained Sharon well enough to know when he’s not fucking around. Without another word, she unrolls the condom onto his dick before sinking down on it, moaning like a fucking porn-star as she does it.

He flips her over so she’s on her hands and knees and he doesn’t have to look at her. This way, it’s easier to imagine that it’s you. And Steve’s now accepted the fact that if he wants to get off, he’s going to have to think of you. Fuck, he bets you’d cry if he ever fucked you. Either cry or pass out from how good he’d make you feel. He bets you’d beg him to knot you, to give you his babies. And he would. Fuck.

Sharon lets out a moan and a string of curse words along with his name, and Steve has to forcibly shove her face into the pillow to zone her out. Because all he really wants to do is picture you. Fuck, he wishes he could cum inside you, hear you squeak and moan while he completely ruins you for any other man. Except there wouldn’t be any other man because you belong to Steve.

Mine, he thinks with gritted teeth, picturing your nervous little smile when you’d entered the lecture hall that morning, all mine.

***

“A little birdie told me that that little omega is only a freshman.” Bucky says, perking Steve’s interest immediately as they walk into their World Politics lecture a few days later. “Which means she’s either really fucking smart to be taking a senior class, or she fucked her way up.”

“She definitely fucked her way into the class,” Steve finds himself saying, “Omegas aren’t smart, so there’s no way she’d have gotten into the class otherwise.” He feels a wave of irritation, however. A freshman. In a senior class. And an omega, no less. There was no way, no fucking way.

And there you are again, sitting front row with all your pens lined out in front of you like some stupid, eager omega. His nose twitches, trying to sniff your addictive scent but it seems that whatever cheap suppressant you’re taking is extra strong today, because he can’t detect it at all. And this irritates him even more, because, embarrassing as it was, he’d been looking forward to spending the lecture smelling your goddamn fucking scent.

“Hey, sweetheart.” Bucky pipes up when they cross by your table, and you look up immediately. And Steve can feel his heart in his fucking throat because you make direct eye contact with him and not Bucky. The brunette seems unperturbed, however, “I’m Bucky. This is Sam, and this is Steve.”

You look up and nod at each of them. “Hi, Bucky. Hi, Sam. Hello, Steve.”

For a moment, it feels like Steve’s in heaven. And it’s the fucking cheesiest thing in the world, but it’s in the way you say his name. All soft and shy and clearly self-conscious yet in an extremely cute way. Fuck, what was he, fifteen years old? He doesn’t care, though, he wants to hear you say his name again. And preferably not whilst also saying his friends’ names in the same sentence.

And it irritates him that Bucky spoke to you first. Steve had seen you first therefore it only made sense that he should’ve spoken to you first too. It also irritates him how close Bucky and Sam are standing to you, and how you’re shooting them a small smile right this instant.

Steve is silently seething, and Bucky and Sam are grinning at you like you’re some kind of spectacle. You tell them your name (and his heart skips a beat when he hears it, because it fits you perfectly and he feels like he’s known this name all his life).

And then, no one speaks for a while, and he sees you shift slightly, clearly uncomfortable as you bite your lip. For a second, he wishes he could read your mind, but it doesn’t matter because you have the world’s most emotive face. He can practically see your thoughts as they race through your head. He knows that you’re intimidated by him, by all three of them – but that’s nothing new. And then you open your mouth to speak.

“H-How are you guys finding this class so far?” You ask in a voice sweet as honey. And Steve hates how other alphas around the room have whipped their heads towards you again. He hates how Sam’s features have softened as he looks you over, and he hates how Bucky’s got that predatory look in his eye again, the same one he had last time. He knows he has to do something. Fast.

“Funny, we were going to ask you the same thing.” Steve says, and you blink up at him.

“Me? I, uh, I really like it.” You say shyly, and he can tell that you have trouble maintaining eye contact with him but you try your best as you continue, “Some of the concepts are challenging, but I’m really enjoying it.”

“Oh, I bet you’re really enjoying it.” Steve grins, pointedly glancing at the professor before fixing his gaze back on you, innuendo dripping from his tone. Bucky catches on and chuckles, as does Sam.

You look confused, “Um, I don’t understand–”

Sam snorts, “Don’t play dumb.”

“Is it the class you’re enjoying, sweetheart, or what happens after it?” Bucky joins in.

You shake your head, “I’m sorry, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

And sure, there’s a voice at the back of Steve’s head telling him to quit it and back off. That sensible voice that shows its face from time to time, telling him that you don’t deserve this at all. But he chooses to ignore it, and maybe it’s because he’s been irritated ever since he found out you’re a fucking freshman omega in a senior class where you don’t belong. Or since Bucky spoke to you first before Steve could, and he could see that interest in Bucky’s eyes. Either way, he ignores the voice of rationality in his head. He’s Steve fucking Rogers, after all. He can say whatever he wants to.

“Wearing grossly oversized outfits to hide your body won’t hide the fact that you’re a slut.” Steve says it softly, but everyone hears it. And he doesn’t think he’ll ever forget the way your head whips up to look at him, the way your lower lip quivers and the way your breath hitches.

“Wh-What? I’m not a… a–”

“A slut? Come on. Everyone knows you spread your legs to get into this class. That’s probably why you sit in the front row, too. So the professor can get a good eyeful of the campus slut before you got to his office after class.” Steve smirks, although it isn’t very satisfying to see your face crumple at his words, and he feels a pang of guilt that he tries his hardest to ignore. You shake your head.

“No! I didn’t–”

“Omegas like you don’t belong in a class like this,” Sam pipes up, and you bow your head. Steve can see your hands trembling under the table as you clasp them in your lap. And God, you look so small, so weak in your big fucking hoodie that nearly swallows you whole. You look like you’re begging for an alpha like him to protect you. But what’s he supposed to protect you from – himself?

He watches you for the rest of the class. You sit there, determinedly taking notes as if three alphas didn’t just embarrass and insult you at the start of the lecture. You don’t ever raise your hand to answer any questions, but Steve can tell that you know all the answers. It’s the way you mouth them cutely, the way you nod when the correct answer is said – as if you knew it all along. It’s the way your nose scrunches in concentration as you read every word of the lecture slides before writing it all down. In a way, he admires your persistence and devotion to your goddamned notes. Omegas are known to be devoted – but to their alphas, not World fucking Politics lectures.

You still look morose and deflated by the time the lecture ends, taking ages to slowly pack your book bag. Sam and Bucky leave, but Steve hangs back. Talk to her! The voice in his head urges him. Tell her you mistook her for someone else, tell her you didn’t mean it! Ask her out! And he lets himself imagine it for a second, asking you out on a date. Picking you up and presenting you with yellow roses, taking you to a restaurant that’s way too fancy for you, and you’d probably be wearing that goddamn hoodie, too.

He almost smiles, before shaking the thought away. I’m not that pathetic, he thinks. Some random scholarship omega isn’t worth taking on a date. There’s a peculiar longing within him but he stuffs it deeper down inside himself. Girls long for him, not the other way around and it’s best if he remembers that.

That doesn’t stop him from following you out of the lecture hall, however. It’s cute, the way you lug your bookbag on your shoulder. You’ve stocked it so full of unnecessary textbooks that it’s weighing you down like a tonne of rocks. His hands itch to help you, but he has to hang back because you don’t know he’s there, and also because you’re now on the phone.

He can’t hear what you’re saying, or who you’re on the phone with. But after a few minutes, your shoulders prop up and the pep in your step returns. Whoever is on the other end of the line – probably a friend or your mom – has managed to cheer you up. He gets close enough to hear you say:

“Yes. I’m going to try harder to make friends. Don’t you worry about me!”

It’s sickening. How cute you sound. And it’s even more sickening how he finds himself following you all the way back to your dorm room, keeping his head low and a small distance between the two of you. And sure, he’s never fucking stalked a girl before and this is definitely unhinged behaviour, but it’s like he can’t help it.

And it’s kind of fun observing you. At one point, you stop in front of a rose bush to smell the delicate flowers. Steve thinks back to how he’d imagined asking you out and giving you a bouquet of yellow roses. He lets himself imagine some more: you bringing the bouquet up to your nose and inhaling gently, a pretty smile on your face as you stand up on your tiptoes to kiss him and tell him thank you.

The picture sits pretty in his mind for a good ten seconds, a smile touching his lips before he aggressively wipes it off. Stop being a sappy fucking loser, he tells himself, before refocusing on his omega. You’re making your way into your dorm building now – it’s one of the cheaper ones on campus. The dorms in there are about the size of postage stamps, and it makes him think of everything he could provide for you: money, clothes, gifts – anything you asked for.

Ask her out! The voice inside his head is beguiling. If he asked you out, he would no longer have to deal with Sharon. If he asked you out, Bucky and the rest of them would all back the fuck up. So then what was stopping him? What was stopping him from marching straight into your stupid tiny fucking dorm room and telling you that he’d pick you up tomorrow at 7 for dinner?

She’s below my fucking league, he reminds himself, although that excuse seems to be getting flimsier and flimsier. He’s distracted from his inner turmoil, however, when he sees you appear in your room through your window. You neatly place your bag on your desk before pulling your hoodie over your head. Steve’s breath catches in his throat, and he watches closely as your tank top is next, joining your hoodie on the floor.

Steve’s lost count of how many girls he’s seen naked in his lifetime, but none of them hold a candle to what he’s seeing right now. The way you slip your leggings down, stepping out of them, now just in your bra and panties. Fuck, you’re so sexy. So fucking sexy, and he can feel himself getting rock hard. And half of him wants to reprimand you, chastise you for being so fucking stupid to be changing without drawing your curtains first. He should take you over his fucking knee for that…

But the other half of him just stands there, transfixed. You wriggle into a tee, your legs still bare and your cute ass on display for a few more seconds before you put on a pair of pyjama shorts. It’s when you sit down on your desk which is facing the window, that he finally backs off. Forcibly ripping his gaze away from you and walking away, the vision of you ingrained deeply in his head.

That night, in the privacy of his shower, he cums harder than he ever has before. Just the sight of you changing replaying over and over again in his brain. Nobody has ever had such an effect on him before, and he wonders what this means. Even after he’s jacked off, he can’t seem to shake you out of his mind. It’s like his eyes are itching to just see you again, drink you in again.

Finally, from the depths of one of his drawers, Steve pulls out an old sketchbook that his mother had bought for him on one of his birthdays. She was the only one who knew that he could draw, and she kept encouraging him to do it despite the fact that Steve hadn’t touched an art supply for years now. But it’s like his fingers are itching to put the images in his head down on paper.

And once he starts drawing, it’s like he can’t stop. It comes so naturally to him, like he’s known your face for years and committed it to his memory. He draws you sitting front row during the lecture, trying his hardest to capture that look of concentration on your face, the furrow of your brow, the way you bite your lip. He even draws you in your ridiculously oversized hoodie, how it practically swallows you whole. And he finds himself smiling at how cute you look in it – despite the fact that omegas aren’t supposed to wear things like that.

One thing becomes abundantly clear to Steve that night. He wants you. He wants to own you. He doesn’t want you to belong to anybody else, not now and not ever. But aren’t you out of his league? So then what?  Just fuck her once and get her out of your system, he tries to tell himself. But would that be enough? Girls have always been easy subjects for Steve, but for the first time in his life, he finds himself confused, and his thoughts seem to be at war with each other.

It's only been a week since he first laid eyes on you but it’s like he can’t get you out of his head. He wants you to be his, yet at the same time he can’t believe that he’s fallen for some random scholarship omega. Fallen? No, he hasn’t fallen for you. It’s just lust. Just lust. Just. Lust.

It has to be, right?

***

The next World Politics lecture falls on a Friday – and it’s been three whole days since Steve has last seen you. Three torturously long days filled with Sharon’s irritating squawking and incessant presence in his room. Steve finds that she no longer makes him hard, and every time he fucks her, he finds himself longing for you in her place. You wouldn’t howl so annoyingly when you came, or scratch at his back like a stupid bitch. Actually, he wouldn’t mind if you scratched his back while he fucked you dumb into the mattress, your eyes glazed over and tears running down your cheeks as he knots inside you again and again.

And that’s what Steve’s daydreaming about before the start of the lecture, when he feels a light tap on his shoulder.

“Ex-Excuse me?”

He turns around and his heart skips a beat. You. In a huge green hoodie, almost eye level to him despite the fact that he’s sitting down and you’re standing up. Fuck, you look really cute, all shy as you shift your weight from one foot to the other. And Steve isn’t used to girls coming up to him. He knows he’s very intimidating, as are Bucky and Sam, who have now also turned to gawk at the little omega standing in front of the three of them.

Steve doesn’t know what to do, because up until a second ago he was in the middle of imagining you naked underneath him while he fucked you so hard you saw stars. And now here you are, standing before him with a Tupperware container in your hands, looking uncomfortable and shy as ever.

“Look who it is, Little Miss Campus Slut.” Sam is the first to speak.

Steve watches you blink and take a deep breath before you speak. “H-Hello, Steve. Sam. Bucky.” You nod at each of them, and Steve doesn’t think he’ll ever get over the sound of you saying his name – he just wishes he wasn’t lumped in with his friends every time.

“I th-think we – uh – I think we all got off on the wrong foot last time,” Your voice shakes as you speak, and Steve finds your stutter kind of cute. “I kn-know you guys were probably joking but, I – uh…” You swallow, and Steve has to admire your guts. He can tell you’re practically shitting yourself with how nervous you look. You shake your head and smile softly, “I made these. For you. I mean, all three of you. As a kind of peace offering.”

You open the Tupperware container and hold it out towards him. Inside, there are about a dozen brownies, cut into neat little squares. The smell alone is heavenly, and he can see that some of them have pieces of caramel oozing out. From his peripheral, he can see Bucky lick his lips.

“I baked them this morning,” You say proudly, “A friend of mine told me that there’s nothing a batch of brownies can’t solve. So, these are for you, and maybe now we could be friends?”

Sweet, naïve, innocent. God, you’re everything Steve wants in a girl. And for a second, he lets his thoughts run wild again. This time, he imagines you baking brownies for him – solely him – in a big house he’s bought for the two of you. You’re heavily pregnant and wearing a cherry print apron, and you sit on his lap while you serve him the freshly baked brownies. An alpha and his little omega, knocked up and completely devoted to him. A perfect family. The perfect life.

Which is why it makes little sense when he slaps his hand upwards, knocking the container out of your hand and sending the brownies flying everywhere, landing on the floor in a sorry heap by your feet. Sam and Bucky burst out laughing, and Steve smiles coolly, although he doesn’t really feel like smiling on the inside. Why did he do that?

Because she’s a stupid scholarship omega, and I can do whatever I want, he answers his own question but even he has to admit that his reasoning is less than satisfactory.

Your eyes widen in shock before your face crumples, “Wh-Why would you do that?”

Steve shrugs, “It’s not very nice of you to try and feed us your weird, contaminated brownies. I mean, we don’t know where your hands have been, do we? Oh wait, we do.” He looks pointedly at the professor at the front of the room before looking back at you, a smug smile on his face that he tries hard not to let falter when he sees the tears welling up in the corners of your eyes.

“I worked re-really hard on those.” You look like you’ve wilted, and there’s that one part deep inside him – maybe his soul? – telling him how fucked up he is for doing what he’s just done. But it’s just a joke, he justifies to himself.

“Don’t get all emotional just because we don’t want your STD brownies.” Steve says, trying hard to keep stone-faced as he watches you flinch and gasp at his words.

“I-I-I don’t have an STD!”

“I-I-I don’t care.” Steve mimics your stutter, making his voice all high-pitched. Sam and Bucky laugh again, along with a bunch of other people who are within earshot. And the look of hurt that crosses your face seems to ingrain itself in his brain, searing him from the inside out till he almost feels sick. Fuck. Why did he keep going?

Because she doesn’t matter, he tells himself. He’s made fun of billions of others in the past, and this shouldn’t be any different, right?

With your lower lip quivering, you swallow back your tears. And he’s surprised when he sees you narrow your eyes at him, “Th-That was really mean.”

And maybe it’s because you’re glaring at him and he doesn’t like that, or maybe it’s because you look so fucking small – standing there with your chin upturned and hands shaking in anger at being wronged. But Steve feels himself getting hard – rock hard. Part of him wants to gather your quivering body in his arms and kiss you and hug you and protect you from it all. But a larger part of him feels this strong need, this hunger, to control you. You look so small, so hurt, so submissive. He can see licks of anger through the tears in your eyes, however, and he wants to snuff it out. Control you completely. Make you bend to his will and listen to his every command.

“Y-You shouldn’t have done that.” You say quietly and Steve narrows his eyes.

“Shouldn’t have done what, omega?” He chews the word around, savours it before spitting it out, and he loves how your eyes widen at being called by your designation. He’s never called anyone by their designation before, and the surge of power he feels over you when he does? Fuck, it’s irreplaceable.

“Th-That’s not my name.” You try and stand your ground but really, it’s not like you’re any match for him. “Don’t call me that – p-please.”

“Why not? That’s what you are, after all. Your name doesn’t matter to me – whatever it is.” (He knows exactly what your name is, because he’s spent the past few days thinking about how great it would sound if you put his last name next to it, but that’s beside the point).

“And I don’t think you’re in any position to tell me what to do, omega.” He adds smoothly, noting how you bow your head in submission, but there are still angry tears glistening in your eyes and he can see your hands balled into fists by your sides, and you’re opening your mouth as if to argue with him. Snuff it out, he tells himself, snuff out any fight she has left in her.

“Don’t think you can talk back to an alpha. Just because you fucked your way into college doesn’t mean the rest of us are going to give you special treatment.” He says, every one of his words dripping in acid. And he wonders how far he can take it, how much further he can control you…

“Now, I want you to keep your mouth shut, walk back over to your seat and sit down and remain silent for the rest of the class.” He orders you before shooting you a smirk. “Now.”

He watches your eyes widen when you realise that it’s an alpha command, and then you’re walking away, head down and an empty Tupperware container in your hand. And the pure power trip Steve gets from it all has adrenaline and excitement pumping through his veins and straight down to his cock. Fuck. He’s never alpha-commanded an omega like this before. Sharon sometimes but it’s never been as gratifying as this.

It's in your stance, how weak and little you look as you walk dejectedly back to your seat. You’ve listened to him, and the power he gets from that is unbeatable. And addicting. He wants to feel it again. Sure, he’s always been domineering with girls but with you, it’s different. You’re different. So perfect and shy, so pretty and submissive… Fuck, he’s so hard now.

He leans back in his seat, staring at you while you get your books out with shaky hands. That’s when he notices that you’re crying, your hands keep reaching up to wipe your eyes with the sleeve of your hoodie and your shoulders quiver uncontrollably. Shit. Steve had made you cry, and his heart pangs with guilt. But it’s confusing, because there’s a dark part of him that’s so turned on right now, that wants to lick your tears up then embarrass you some more. Then you’d cry some more and he’d push you down to your knees, shove his cock in your mouth and really give you something to cry about.

But he also wants to gather you in his arms, hold you in his lap and comfort you. Tell you that he didn’t mean it, that he doesn’t know why he’s doing all this. Well, he does know why – but sometimes he isn’t convinced by his own rationale. Control you. Comfort you. Control you. Comfort you. Control you–

“Hey, these are pretty good.” Bucky’s voice knocks Steve out of his reverie, and he looks down to see his friend scooping up pieces of brownie off the ground.

Sam groans, “Please tell me you’re not eating the floor-brownies.”

“What? They’re good!” Bucky defends himself with a mouthful of the sweet treat. “Shit, you know what? I wouldn’t even mind getting an STD. I think she’s worth it. So fucking hot and she bakes too? I wonder what else she can do.”

Steve rolls his eyes, wanting nothing more than to punch Bucky in the skull for calling his omega hot. Because of course, Steve’s already consolidated in his mind that you’re his. He just has to figure out what exactly he wants from you. For now, however, he’s content with staring at you from afar, and imagining how pretty you’d look baking brownies for him and bending over while he made you cum on his knot over and over again.

***

“You know, I’d let you mark me if you wanted to.” Sharon says one day, out of nowhere. Steve’s walking her to one of her classes (or more like, she’d seen him walking with his friends and dragged him away).

Steve barks out a laugh, “Why the fuck would I do that?”

“Why wouldn’t you? We’re both seniors, about to graduate and we’re in a serious, committed relationship.” Sharon squeezes his hand, and Steve feels a sudden urge to throw up. What a dumb fucking idiot Sharon was, as if he’d ever mark her. He’s still trying to figure out how to break up with her – he absolutely hates talking to her and he doesn’t even consider her a good fuck anymore. She’s lucky he’s kept her around for this long, yet has the audacity to talk about marking.

“You shouldn’t be thinking about things like that.” He says, hoping to drop the subject but of course, she doesn’t seem to want to let it go.

“Come on, babe. I remember back when we first started going out, you told me that you wanted to marry me and have a ton of kids! I remember thinking how cute you sounded when you said that.”

Steve doesn’t even have the energy to correct her. Sure, he’d said that he was a traditional alpha just like his father. He wanted to get married young and have kids young too. However, he’d never mentioned wanting all of this with Sharon, but of course the dumb bitch had selective hearing and liked to make stuff up, but that wasn’t Steve’s fault.

He lets her talk for the duration of their walk up to her lecture, and all he contributes is a disinterested grunt now and again. But Sharon loves the sound of her own voice, so she doesn’t seem to notice his lack of interest in conversing with her. Finally, outside her lecture hall, she stands up on her tiptoes to give him a kiss. And it’s while he’s kissing his girlfriend that Steve feels a prickle in the back of his neck. Almost like he’s being watched.

He opens his eyes, looking straight ahead beyond Sharon’s shoulder. And there you are, sitting in the courtyard. You look like a fucking angel, bathing in the sunlight that peaks out at you through the branches of the tree you’re sat underneath. And you’ve got this almost curious look on your face as you watch him kiss his girlfriend. He makes eye contact with you for about five magical seconds before you realise that he’s watching you, all while his lips move against Sharon’s.

Quickly, you bury your nose in the book you’re reading, and he can see your eyes widening in alarm. Somehow, he knows your heart’s racing – because his is too. And he feels this longing for you, wishing so bad that it was you he was kissing instead of Sharon. But you’d been watching him! What did that mean? Maybe you liked him how he likes you?

I don’t like her! He tells himself stubbornly, she’s below my league… But he doesn’t know who he’s kidding with that excuse anymore.

Bidding Sharon goodbye, he can’t help but feel this gravitational pull, tugging him over to you. For a second, he imagines sitting down next to you, asking you what you’re reading and watching as you happily tell him. And he’d be interested in what you have to say, because you’re not a stupid bitch like Sharon or any of the other girls on campus. You’re special. And so beautiful.

He watches as you slowly lose yourself in whatever book you’re reading, and you’ve got a fucking juice-box next to you which you sip on every so often. God, could you be any cuter? You look so innocent, and for one dark second, he wishes he could just take you and lock you up in his house. You’d be safe over there, inside the house and away from any college like a good, traditional little omega. And he’d buy you a whole library full of books to keep you happy, and you’d cook and clean and dote on him and carry his babies, and that would make him happy.

Steve finds himself walking over, casting a shadow over your figure as he looms above you, and you look up at him fearfully. Fuck. He doesn’t think he’ll ever get over the way you’re looking at him right now. Like you’re wary, scared – like he’s this formidable alpha that could completely ruin you – which is all true.

“Well, well, well. Look who it is.” He says softly, and you gulp.

“H-Hello, Steve.” You attempt a smile but you’re shaking like a leaf. And he’s surprised that you’re still greeting him nicely despite how horrible he was to you in the last lecture.

“What are you doing?” He asks, but it comes out sounding like a demand.

“Just reading.” You answer, and he can see that you’re trying to hide your shaking hands. The book rests open in your lap, and you look so sweet, sitting down by his feet. It makes him imagine nasty things, like wanting to pull you forward by your hair, make you mouth at his crotch in front of everyone in this courtyard, make you beg for his alpha cock before he shoves it down past your quivering lips.

Which is why it doesn’t make much sense when, in one fluid motion, he steps down hard on your juice-box, the liquid spurting out and splattering all over your top, and the open book too, immediately leaving large, blotchy stains on both.

“Oh no!” You lament, panic overtaking your features as you immediately begin to fan out the book, shaking it and trying to get the water out. But all Steve can focus on is your wet top – it’s oversized but it’s not a hoodie, at least – and the way it clings to your skin. You’re so fucking hot, and you don’t even realise it – you seem more preoccupied by the damn book.

“It was a library book!” You say quietly, tears forming in your eyes and Steve feels another pang of guilt because he’s made you cry again. “I can’t… I can’t afford…” Your voice trails off.

Steve smirks, “You can’t afford to replace the book, can you?” It consolidates every assumption he’d made about you. You come from nothing and you’re a no one, with your hand-me-down clothes and DIY bookbag. He truly could give you anything and everything you’d ever want, and he lets himself imagine it. Him buying you bags and bags of clothes, helping you put them on, dressing you up like his own little doll that smells sweet like magnolias and is devoted to him. He bets you’d be so thankful – you’re not used to any kind of riches after all – and you’d worship him in return.

And all of this gives him an idea. A way to exert even more control over you, and give you a bit in return too. Grabbing his wallet from his jacket pocket, he fishes out a hundred-dollar bill. You’re too busy trying to shake the liquid off your book that you don’t even notice it when he reaches forward and tucks the crisp note into the hemline of your top.

You gasp, “What’s… What’re you doing?”

“You know that report we have due next week, don’t you?” Steve muses, scanning your face carefully. He sees your throat bob as you swallow, hanging onto his every word as you hold the hundred-dollar bill between your fingers gingerly. “Why don’t you do mine for me, omega?”

Your eyes widen and you shake your head, “Th-That’s dishonest! And I have my own report to do–” You try to hand him the money back but he bats your hand away. And he knows he could easily use an alpha-command on you and make you exactly what he asks of you, just like how he made you walk away in the lecture last time after the brownie incident.

But he craves true control over you, and maybe he can manipulate you? Mould your pretty little mind into wanting to please him? He knows you’re biologically wired to please him; your base omega desires want nothing more than to make an alpha proud – he knows that. He could play into that, use that. Manipulate you, and find out just how far he can take this sweet control over you.

“Come on, omega, I really think you should do my report.” Steve keeps his voice even, his eyes boring into yours with intensity, and you look like you’re about to melt under his gaze. “Otherwise, you’ll disappoint me. And you don’t want to disappoint me, do you?

Almost as if you’re hypnotised, you shake your head no. And Steve can’t believe how easy this is, and he wonders whether his scent smells good to you, and whether it has any effect on you. It must do… because you look like you’re about to turn into putty in his hands.

“B-But it’s cheating.” You whisper.

“That doesn’t matter. You’re going to do my report for me, and you’re going to put all your effort into it. Because at the end of the day, that’s the only thing an omega like you is good for. Pleasing an alpha. You want to please me, don’t you?”

He loves how he can practically read every single thought that crosses inside that pretty little head of yours. He loves the look of conflict on your face, how you’re trying to fight against your base desires. It makes him feel powerful, strong – how someone can have that much control over another human being, it thrills him.

Finally, you nod, and whisper a delicate “okay” that goes straight to Steve’s dick. You’re so beautiful and submissive, he can’t help but reach out to tap your cheek condescendingly. What a good girl, he wants to say, but that would be overdoing it. Instead, he just smirks and leaves, loving how you sit there, stunned and with the hundred still between your thumb and forefinger.

He goes home that day and jerks off thinking about you and all the power he exerted over you today. How easy it was to make you cry, then manipulate you into doing exactly what he wanted you to. He pumps his dick to the thought of how innocent you are, how sweet and pretty and how you’re everything he’s ever wanted in a girl – he just didn’t know it until now.

He also thinks about what you’re going to do with the money he gave you. Replacing the library book wouldn’t cost that much, and he hopes you spend the rest of the hundred on clothes or jewellery for yourself. That way, it would be like he bought something for you, he bought it for you and now you’re wearing it on your skin. Something he bought. Because you belong to Steve. And then he cums hard, slapping the bathroom wall so hard that one of the tiles chips.

Then, he cleans off and gets his sketchbook out. He draws you sitting under the tree with your little juice-box. He makes sure to make the drawing as detailed as possible, down to the top you were wearing and the way you looked so engrossed in your book. At the last second, he adds one more detail. A jagged mark on the side of your neck. His mark. Then he slams his sketchbook shut and buries it under his bed.

You give Steve his finished report only two days later, at the start of the next lecture. Quietly, you scurry up to him and wordlessly hold out the typed-up paper placed neatly in a binder. He snatches it from you, making sure to remain stone-faced except you don’t even make eye-contact with him – which is mildly irritating. But he guesses you’re too scared of him, and this proves to be true because you quickly walk back to your seat as soon as he takes the report from you.

Sam whistles lowly, “Out of everyone in this class, you made the slut omega do your paper?”

“Good luck redoing the whole thing, unless you want an F.” Bucky adds.

Steve opens the report to scan through it, and the hundred-dollar bill flutters out from where it was tucked in the first page. Huh. You’d returned the money. His heart can’t help but sink, because here he was trying to help you and you’d thrown it back in his face. Curiously, he watches you in your usual seat in the front row. You’re texting someone on your phone and he feels a wave of jealousy. Was there someone else taking care of you? A boyfriend?

He pushes that thought out of his mind as soon as it enters it. No. You’re too sweet, too pure to have a boyfriend. You’re a lonely little omega, and the only person who talks to you on campus is Steve. That’s how he’s painted you in his head and that’s what you are.

But now he wants to find out more about you. And it’s easy enough, going to the admin office and flirting with one of the secretaries. Easily noting down the password to the computer that had all the freshman student details on it, and when the giggling secretary excused herself to go to the bathroom, he quickly typed in your name.

And all your information pops up on the screen in front of him. Home address (some random, desolate hick-town, just as he suspected), your phone number (he quickly saves it on his phone) as well as your mother’s contact details. No father. Interesting. It meant you probably had some sort of daddy issues that Steve could undoubtedly take advantage of in the future.

Back in his own room, Steve stares at your number on his phone. He could easily call you right this instant, or text you. He could thank you for doing his report and offer to take you out. And then he’d show up at your doorstep with a bouquet of yellow roses, take you to the most expensive restaurant in town and then he’d drive up to a great spot he knows, where the two of you could stargaze and then he’d kiss you for the first time before taking you to the backseat of his car and making love to you, all soft and sweet – because you’re soft and sweet.

Steve has to forcibly push these sappy thoughts out of his head. He’s not a lovesick fifteen-year-old kid, for fucksakes! He’s an alpha, way above the league of some small, hick-town omega who comes from a broken home. It’s just lust, he reminds himself, lust and control. That’s all you want with her, Steve. Remember that.

Weeks go by where Steve doesn’t miss a chance when it comes to bullying you. It’s just an extremely easy thing to do, despite the fact that sometimes, it feels like he’s putting his heart through a shredder when he sees you bow your head and cry. Why can’t he just leave you alone? Why is he so goddamned obsessed with you?

He stares at you a lot, too. And sometimes, he finds you staring back at him before you quickly look away. She has a crush on me, too! He thinks to himself before shaking his head and trying to focus on something else. But he can’t. You’re everywhere. Even when he hooks up with other girls now, he picks ones out who have the same features as you. Same hair colour, same skin-tone. That way, it’s easier to pretend it’s you when he’s fucking them from behind.

But it’s not you. You’d be so much better. So much sweeter, so much more subservient. And Steve wants you so bad, it’s starting to become a physical need.

He, along with Bucky and Sam, sit in the row behind you on the day everyone gets their graded reports back. He does it so he can catch another whiff of your scent which he hasn’t smelled since the first day he saw you. But to no avail – your suppressants are too fucking strong and this irritates him no end.

Bucky and Sam spend the lecture poking fun at you, juvenile jokes which Steve doesn’t even find funny despite the fact that he’s the one who started the whole ‘campus slut’ movement in the first place.

But from his position behind you, he can see you type in your passcode to unlock your phone, and subconsciously he commits it to his memory. He wonders who you text and call, what friends you have. Ever since he looked you up on the computer system, he just wants to know every single thing about you. And he knows he’s acting like a fucking creep – sometimes he has the strong urge to just grab you and smell you, smell your hair and your neck and just bury his nose into you. It’s insane. No other girl has made him feel like this, but it’s like he can’t help it.

Steve gets an A+ on his report, and when he glances at you holding your own paper, he sees you got an A+ too. Which means you submitted two top tier research papers. A smart omega, he thinks to himself. And he hates that you’re smart. Well, he admires you for it but he hates that he admires it. Because you shouldn’t be here writing reports on world politics. No, you should be inside a kitchen. Or in his bed.

He watches you smile and clasp your hands together, clearly happy with your grade. And he hangs back again, waiting for Bucky and Sam to leave at the end of the lecture before he approaches you.

“Congratulations, omega. Did you let the professor put it up your ass so he’d give you the highest grade in class?” Steve asks nonchalantly.

But this time, you don’t even protest against his lie, or even look at him. No, you keep your gaze diverted, staring intensely at the floor before you scrunch your eyes up. Shit. You’re well and truly afraid of him – he can practically see you shaking. And is it possible to feel bad yet get hard at the same time? Steve doesn’t know anymore, he’s always hard when he’s in your presence.

He watches you scurry away, looking intimidated beyond belief. And as you leave, you accidentally brush up against him. Your whole body, brushing up against his front, and Steve feels like someone’s kicked him in the fucking balls because it winds him. His heart seems to skip several beats and he feels like he can’t breathe.

Your body had only made contact with his for a few seconds at most, but he can’t believe the effect it had on him. Your soft little body, like a boost of serotonin straight to his heart. And his cock. Fuck. You practically half-run out of the room in a bid to get away from him, and you have no fucking clue that you’ve left him reeling. He’s 6’6 and weighs about 240 pounds but an unassuming little omega has almost knocked him off his feet.

And this incenses him. It embarrasses him. It confuses him.

I need to fuck her; he thinks to himself. I need to feel her again. Claim her. Make her mine.

Maybe then I’ll get her out of my system once and for all.

A/N: And there we go! i know yall may be a bit disappointed since this does not advance the plot at all and nothing really happened but!! this is just meant to be an insight into Steve’s head!! i know a lot of you want to know what he was thinking so here you go!! I do want to note that he DOES come across as a fucking psycho askfsdajkfn but he’s a dark character what can i say??? He develops a lot from here tho! ANYWAYS, please leave feedback, i’d love to know what you think! I hope you enjoyed!! bye dhfsdnk

[st-danger]

in my experience, being afab and having a small belly you can have your g spot pressed from the outside given enough pressure… makes me think of aether and dew…. 😳

Transmasc Dew cornering Aether in his room one afternoon. Just Needing It (tm). Demanding in a way Aether loves; not cruel the way Alpha could be when he wanted something, but so genuinely craving Aether doing anything at all to him... he's willing to overlook any bratty behaviour. Dew doesn't mean it that way.

He just really wants Aether, and that knowledge never fails to make him go a little crosseyed.

So when Dew slinks into his room and tells Aether point blank he'll let Aether do whatever so long as he gets his fingers first, he's quick to agree. To lay him down with a pillow under his ass, to watch Dew spread out, hair fanned around him. Looking regal and elegant even on his back in rumpled sheets.

It isn't a huge surprise to find him hot already, all pink and slippery. Aether takes one finger to stroke up and down his lips, which are puffy and parting for him already. Fat little dick begging for a kiss, which Aether gives it because he's never been much for denying himself things he wants, and he sees no reason to start now, or at all. Almost chaste, the way he presses his lips against it and feels it give a satisfying twitch. He'll suck him after this; the second orgasm is usually much harder to wring out of him, but he'll force it out in no time once he can lick it into his mouth and suckle and swipe his tongue back and forth just the way he knows will make Dew cum. Even if he's trying not to. Even if Aether tells him he's not allowed and that he just has to hold it in. Doesn't matter. Aether knows his body better than he does, sometimes.

He knows exactly how to settle between his legs and slide his thick ring and middle finger inside with one gentle push. Dew's already so gooey. It's easy to crook his fingers and pet, and it's even easier to lay the heel of his other hand low on his belly, below his navel, down the light dusting of hair to just above the light patch of hair.

Easy, to push his hand down, gentle but firm and stroke inside and hear Dew cuss a blue streak while Aether feels those muscles flutter around him. He daydreams about what they'll feel like stretching around his cock, getting to see the struggle on Dew's face while he convinces his body to relax. To let him all the way inside.

For now, he rubs and presses, outside and inside, and Dew groans and lets his toes curl.

[rainforestakiie]

If you take request perhaps an Omega Adam x Omega Lucifer, where Lucifer protects Adam from Lilith (who is an Alpha), and throws her out of their nest .

The Omege lovers comfort each other and snuggle .. Just wanna have something cute 👉🏻👈🏻👀 ofcourse if you don't take request, you can ignore this !

love your stories on ao3 and your short stories here ! :)

hello, thank you for the message. i really hope you like this au! thank you so much for letting me be so creative. i worked really hard on it.

i love omegas in general and i love omega adamsapple. haha. it's so fun to write.

here is part 04 of promised souls! with your request added into it!

Promised Soul (Omegaverse Mythology AU) = Part 01. Part 02. Part 03. Part 04.

The warmth wrapped around Adam like a lover’s embrace, cradling him in a cocoon of blissful comfort. He ached to burrow deeper into the softness of his nest, surrendering to the quiet pull of sleep that fogged his mind and tingled across his skin. The gentle weight of drowsiness ghosted over him, drawing a sigh from his parted lips, soft and full of contentment. His long lashes fluttered, trembling against his cheeks, and a reluctant whine escaped as consciousness tried to tug him from the dreamy haze that enveloped him.

His eyelids twitched, heavy with the desire to stay closed, but he forced them open with a groggy grumble. Mornings had never been his friend, but this was especially cruel—the sky outside still clung to the edges of night. He yearned to sink back into the warmth, his eyelids already drooping again, inviting the return of sleep. A pleased hum escaped him as he felt a tender nuzzle against his mating glands, a gesture so sweet and intimate that it soothed his soul.

But then, something stirred uneasily within him. A knot of tension twisted deep in his gut, a signal from instincts older than thought. Adam blinked his eyes open once more, scanning the familiar, shadowed corners of his small, box-like flat. His brow furrowed in confusion, the unease settling in his chest like a stone. What was wrong? His Omega instincts screamed that something was off, though the room appeared unchanged.

His gaze flicked to the blankets across from his nest, disturbed and rumpled as though someone had once laid there but had since vanished. Who could it have been? Where could they have gone? Adam snorted, shaking off the eerie thought and lifting his arm to wipe his nose—only to freeze. His arm refused to move. Panic prickled through him as the realization struck—he couldn’t move at all. Not from lack of trying, but as if some unseen force held him bound. His muscles twitched in resistance as he struggled to turn his head, to glimpse what had become of his nest.

His heart skipped as his gaze fell on something strange—where there had once been worn-down pillows and tattered cushions, his nest was now lined with iridescent feathers, shimmering in every colour of the rainbow. They were soft, thick, and crossed in intricate patterns, moving in a slow, rhythmic rise and fall, as though breathing. The sensation was alive, unnervingly alive.

A delicate rattle reached his ears, and his eyes darted down toward his feet. There, nestled in the feathered confines, was the golden tail of a rattlesnake, shaking with a soft, deliberate rhythm. The tail was framed by white and blue feathers, scales glimmering like jewels in the dim light.

Adam’s breath caught in his throat. What in the world...?

Adam blinked slowly, his eyes tracing the length of the feathered serpent coiled around him. The creature’s scaled body shimmered with hues of gold, green, and blue, each intake of breath making the gleam more hypnotic. A shiver crawled up Adam’s spine as he became acutely aware of the soft, warm breath against the back of his neck, the nuzzling pressure sending goosebumps across his skin. His heart quickened at the realization of the black and green clawed hands draped protectively over his middle, holding him close in a tender embrace.

The Nephilim—Lucifer—had wound himself around Adam, claiming the nest and transforming it into something far more luxurious and warmer. Adam felt the temptation to surrender to it, to drift back into sleep with this divine being wrapped around him. But curiosity gnawed at him, and with a slight wiggle, he managed to shift from his side onto his back. A sigh escaped his lips as the weight of Lucifer settled more comfortably against him, familiar and intimate.

Lucifer’s face, sharp yet beautiful, nuzzled against the hollow of Adam’s throat, before brushing against his chest, his cheek nestling there as if Adam’s body had been made just for him to rest on. Gold and crimson eyes, both ethereal and dangerously alluring, peeked up at Adam through long, dark lashes. The Godling’s sinuous form coiled tighter, his body still tangled around them both, turning the nest into their shared sanctuary.

"Good morning," Lucifer greeted with an almost childlike yawn.

His full, red lips parting wide to reveal snake-like fangs nestled in the roof of his mouth. His soft tongue flicked out as he stretched, a small pearl of moisture gathering in the corner of his right eye. It was a sight so innocent and disarming, yet so utterly otherworldly.

“Morning,” Adam replied, blinking down at the divine being draped over him. His gaze flickered toward the rumpled blankets across the flat. “Didn’t I leave you over there last night?”

Lucifer hummed in response, pressing his cheek tighter against Adam’s chest, his purring breath vibrating softly through his body.

"It was too cold over there," Lucifer murmured, the words low and sweet, “And you looked so much more inviting.”

The Godling peeked up with a mischievous gleam, his forked tongue flickering out briefly, teasingly. His claws, sharp yet gentle, twined up Adam’s arms, gripping his shoulders possessively.

 “And you’re so warm...” Lucifer purred, his voice a sultry whisper, laced with affection.

Adam’s breath hitched as heat flushed his cheeks.

“O-Oh,” he stammered, a high-pitched sound escaping his lips, not quite a gasp, not quite a whimper, as Lucifer pressed a kiss to his collarbone, the touch light but electric. “W-Well, um... maybe you should... move?”

"Move?" Lucifer’s crimson eyes widened, and he scoffed in mock offense, snuggling in closer, his pouty lips brushing against Adam’s chest. "Why would I ever do that?"

Adam opened his mouth to respond, but his words were swallowed by a sharp yelp as Lucifer’s teasing escalated. The Nephilim raised his head, his lips trailing like whispers across Adam’s chin, nipping playfully before pressing a series of feather-light kisses down his throat. His long tongue flicked over the exposed skin, cool and soft, leaving a trail of shivers in its wake.

Adam’s body tensed, his pulse quickening under the tender assault, but somewhere deep inside him, beneath the rush of embarrassment and surprise, there was a warmth, a comfort in being so adored, so cherished. And even as his mind raced for words, for some semblance of control, his body relaxed instinctively, surrendering to Lucifer's affectionate embrace.

Adam’s breath hitched sharply in his throat, his eyes widening as Lucifer leaned over him, the weight of his presence suffocating yet intoxicating. Lucifer’s red and gold eyes gleamed with a light that seemed to steal the very air from Adam’s lungs, leaving him helpless under the godling's gaze. He hadn’t noticed before, but now, as the light shifted, Adam could see the soft feathers—red and white—sprouting amidst Lucifer’s golden hair, glistening with a divine glow.

“Adam~” Lucifer’s voice was a seductive melody, the sound wrapping around Adam like a caress.

He grinned wickedly, his tail rattling softly in delight. His eyes grew heavy-lidded, his cheeks flushed with an almost feverish warmth as he lowered his face closer to Adam's. The slow, deliberate movement sent shivers down Adam’s spine, and his lips parted in a soft, breathless whisper.

“W-What are you doing?” Adam managed to ask, his voice trembling with both anticipation and shyness.

Lucifer’s lips hovered a mere inch from Adam’s, and the godling released a soft, teasing whistle, his claws tracing up Adam’s throat in a slow, deliberate caress. His fingertips brushed against Adam’s cheeks, sending sparks of sensation through his skin.

“You’re my mate,” Lucifer murmured, his voice low and sultry, “And mates show their affection like this~”

Before Adam could fully process his words, Lucifer’s lips pressed gently against his. The warmth of the kiss was overwhelming, soft yet insistent, as Lucifer purred against him, the sound vibrating deep in his chest. He moved his lips tenderly against Adam’s, licking lightly at his bottom lip as if savouring the taste of his phoenix mate. The sensation was dizzying, and Adam’s heart raced wildly in his chest, his body trembling under the gentle onslaught.

Lucifer’s fingertips traced the faint specks of ash dusting Adam’s skin, lingering over them as if they were precious relics. As he broke the kiss, Lucifer’s lips trailed along Adam’s cheeks, pressing soft kisses to each speck as if worshiping the remnants of what Adam had once been. Adam’s breath stuttered, his body burning with the unexpected tenderness.

“Adam, you’re so cute~” Lucifer purred, his voice thick with affection.

He tilted his head, rubbing his cheek against Adam’s like a cat marking its territory, his skin warm and comforting. Adam felt the heady rush of Lucifer’s pheromones filling the air around them, a scent that made him feel simultaneously vulnerable and desired. Though Lucifer lacked a nose, he still buried his face in Adam’s throat, nuzzling against his pulse before inhaling deeply.

“And you smell so nice too~”

“That’s not possible,” he murmured, shaking his head in disbelief. Adam made a face, his brow furrowing. “I failed in the rebirth... I don’t have any pheromones.”

Lucifer pulled back slightly, his eyes sparkling with mischief and certainty.

“Oh, but you do~” he said with a grin, his lips quirking into a playful smirk. “You do. I can smell them, and they’re wonderful~ “

Lucifer licked his tongue along Adam’s cheek, dragging it towards his throat. A gasp escaped Adam as Lucifer’s mouth searched for his Omega glands. “Mingled with mine, it’s even better~”

Adam’s cheeks flushed crimson, his heart pounding at the thought. Lucifer’s words were laced with a dangerous kind of charm, one that made it hard to think clearly, let alone resist.

Lucifer's hands glided over Adam's body, his sharp, clawed fingers teasing at the fabric of Adam's worn shirt. Feathers, soft and delicate, shivered along his skull, slowly sprouting through the cascade of golden curls. With a mischievous smile, Lucifer pressed his face close, nuzzling against Adam, drenching him in his intoxicating scent with playful delight.

Adam gasped, his breath hitching as a sudden wave of dizzying heat flooded his senses. His entire body quivered, his breath shallow and ragged as warmth overwhelmed him. It was only made worse by Lucifer's much warmer body winding even tighter around him, the end of his serpentine form vibrating with soft, rumbling purrs.

“Adam~” Lucifer giggled, stretching luxuriously above the trembling Phoenix Omega. He took Adam's hand, guiding it gently to his cheek. “Do you like me? Don't you think I'm the perfect mate for you?”

Adam’s mouth opened and closed, unable to form a single word as steam, impossibly, began to rise from his flushed skin. He was completely lost, his thoughts a tangled mess. Just yesterday morning, he had resigned himself to the belief that he would never have a mate—that no one would ever find him worthy. After Lilith’s brutal rejection, he had been certain he would live, and die, alone. Yet here was Lucifer—a Nephilim—claiming to be his destined mate, his perfect match. Adam couldn’t even begin to process it all.

“Does my beauty leave you speechless?” Lucifer purred, his cheek, rosy and warm, pressing sweetly into Adam’s trembling hand, a soft, teasing coo escaping his lips.

Lucifer’s gaze softened as he looked down at Adam, his claws brushing gently along his jawline, tracing the delicate curve of his face. His voice, usually laced with mischief, carried a note of sincerity now, and the teasing grin faded into something more tender.

“I missed you; you know?” Lucifer whispered, his voice a soft murmur, his breath warm against Adam’s skin. He nestled closer, his body winding protectively around the Phoenix.

“I didn’t know it at first... but I’ve been searching for you for so long. I didn’t find anyone else in the Pentagram, no one, favourable.” He chuckled lightly, the sound rich and warm, vibrating through Adam’s body. "They were all too... predictable. But you—you're different."

Adam blinked, still trying to grasp the strange situation unfolding around him. His heart fluttered, an odd mix of disbelief and warmth swirling in his chest. He could feel Lucifer’s heartbeat against him, steady, reassuring.

“But... you’ve only just met me,” Adam managed, his voice a breathless whisper.

Lucifer’s eyes twinkled, his smile softening.

“I’ve known you longer than you think, Adam,” he said, pressing a kiss to Adam's temple, the light touch sending a shiver through Adam's body. "You may not remember, but I’ve been watching, waiting for you to be ready. My father, Quetzalcoatl, always insisted that his children venture into the Middle Realm to find their chosen mates. He believed there was something special about the creatures of Earth. Something... unique.”

He sighed softly, resting his forehead against Adam’s. “But I... I didn’t care about following in my siblings’ footsteps. I thought I was better off alone, that no one could be my equal.”

Adam, despite the overwhelming heat in his body and the fluttering in his stomach, found himself curious. He tilted his head slightly, his brow furrowing as he listened intently. “So why did you change your mind? You didn’t want to come here... but you did.”

Lucifer hummed thoughtfully, his fingers continuing their gentle exploration of Adam’s skin. “Gabriel, my brother... he was the last of my siblings to descend to Earth. He told me the creatures here had changed since our ancestors' time. That they were no longer simple beings... but something more, something mysterious. Something worth finding.” He paused, his lips curving into a soft smile. “And he was right. When I saw you, I knew. You are everything I’ve been waiting for. No one else compares.”

Adam’s breath hitched, his mind racing. “But... how? Why? I thought you’d see us as... monsters,” he asked, his voice shaky but laced with genuine curiosity. “Is it true? The legends of Quetzalcoatl?”

Lucifer chuckled softly, a deep rumble in his chest as he nuzzled closer, his forehead resting against Adam’s. “Most of what the Pentagram monsters believe... it’s true,” he murmured. “My father did indeed descend to the Middle Realm long ago. He saw something in humanity, something that the other realms could never understand. He believed in love, in connection. And he passed that down to us, his children. But the creatures of this world... you’re not monsters, Adam.”

His golden eyes sparkled with warmth as he tilted Adam’s chin up, their gazes locking. “You’re beautiful. Flawed, yes... but that’s what makes you so special. You make me feel something I didn’t think I was capable of.”

Adam’s heart raced, his cheeks flushed with both heat and affection. He had never imagined someone like Lucifer could exist, let alone choose him. And yet, here they were, tangled together in something that felt surreal, but at the same time, perfectly right.

Lucifer smiled, brushing a lock of hair from Adam's forehead, his voice dropping to a low, affectionate whisper.

"You're my perfect mate, Adam. My other half... the one I've waited for. And I’ll never let you go."

Adam’s chest swelled with a warmth he couldn’t quite explain, but for the first time in a long time, he felt wanted. Truly wanted. He leaned into Lucifer’s touch; his eyes fluttering shut as a soft sigh escaped him.

Lucifer’s smile widened, and there was a certain gleam in his golden eyes as he began to recount the story of his father. Adam, still cradled in his arms, listened closely, intrigued by the ancient history.

“My father, Quetzalcoatl, wasn’t just some deity overseeing the Middle Realm. He was a creator, a god who shaped this world with his own hands,” Lucifer began, his voice filled with reverence. “But it didn’t start peacefully. No, the world was born from conflict. My father’s brother, my uncle, Tezcatlipoca, wasn’t so fond of this place. The two of them fought fiercely, their power clashing until they caught hold of a monstrous creature, splitting it into pieces.”

Lucifer’s hands gestured dramatically, his feathers flaring out as he spoke, his enthusiasm contagious. “Those pieces became the earth and the sky. Quetzalcoatl took the land, the seas, the life, while Tezcatlipoca... well, he wanted nothing to do with it. He retreated to the underworld, far from the light and life that filled my father’s world.”

Adam’s breath hitched; his attention completely captured. “So Quetzalcoatl was the one who stayed? Who nurtured everything?”

Lucifer nodded, his fingers lightly caressing Adam’s arm. “Exactly. In the beginning, my father created the first humans—Steve and Eve. He wanted to see them thrive, to live in harmony in the paradise he had made. The garden they lived in had everything they could have ever wished for, a perfect world just for them.”

Adam's brows furrowed in thought. “Steve and Eve... I’ve read about them. They were supposed to be the first, right? The first humans.”

Lucifer nodded solemnly. “Yes, but my father didn’t expect humans to be so... fragile.” His voice lowered, tinged with sadness. “Eve was the first to fall. She ate a rotten apple, a fruit that had been tainted, and it poisoned her from the inside out. My father tried everything to save her, but it was too late. The disease had spread through her body, and she passed.”

Adam’s heart ached at the thought. “That’s awful... and Steve?”

Lucifer sighed deeply, his feathers trembling slightly as he continued. “Steve was heartbroken. My father thought of making him a new wife, but Steve... he couldn’t bear it. The grief overwhelmed him, and he threw himself from the highest cliff in the garden, choosing to follow Eve in death rather than live without her.”

Adam stared at Lucifer, his chest tightening. “I didn’t know... that’s not in the textbooks.”

Lucifer chuckled softly. “Not all stories are written down, Adam. Some are passed through whispers, through bloodlines.” He shifted closer, pressing his forehead gently against Adam’s, his breath warm on his skin.

“Humans turned out to be far more complicated than my father had expected. Fragile, yes, but dangerous too. They couldn’t survive alone, without guidance. So, my father decided that the next breed of life had to be stronger. More resilient, less susceptible to disease, hunger, or the whims of the weather.”

Adam’s eyes widened with curiosity. “How did he do that? How did he create something stronger?”

Lucifer’s smile returned, his pride in his father’s tale shining through. “He went to the underworld, where Tezcatlipoca resided. He carried the bones of Steve and Eve with him, determined to give life to something new, something better. At first, my uncle refused. Tezcatlipoca had always blamed Quetzalcoatl for creating life without reason, for being too sentimental. He believed everything my father made would eventually fail.”

Adam leaned forward, captivated. “But your father didn’t give up, did he?”

“No,” Lucifer replied, his voice brimming with excitement. “Quetzalcoatl challenged Tezcatlipoca. And despite all my uncle’s tricks and deceptions, my father won. He’s strong, Adam, stronger than anyone. Tezcatlipoca, in his defeat, showed my father something he had created in secret, emerald, green bones, pulsing with strength and power, far greater than anything in the Middle Realm. Those were the bones my father wanted to use to remake Steve and Eve.”

Adam blinked, awe filling his features. “Emerald bones... that’s incredible. So, Tezcatlipoca just... let him take them?”

Lucifer grinned widely, his eyes gleaming. “Not exactly. Tezcatlipoca never gave anything away freely. He agreed, but on one condition—there had to be a blood sacrifice. A tribute, made to him, from the creatures that would take over the new world.”

Adam’s breath caught in his throat. “Is that why there were... blood sacrifices every hundred years? Is that why those rituals existed?”

Lucifer shrugged casually, though his grin remained. “Blood is important to us. It’s the essence of life, the price for power. Even my father respects it, as much as he loves his creations. And Tezcatlipoca... well, blood was the only currency he ever valued.”

Adam sat back, trying to absorb the weight of it all. The myths, the legends, they were all so much more real than he had imagined. “I never knew... I didn’t realize the sacrifices were part of the deal.”

Lucifer chuckled, his fingers gently brushing through Adam’s hair as he nuzzled closer. “It’s all part of the balance, Adam. Life and death. Creation and destruction. My father understood that better than anyone.”

He paused, a warm, affectionate look crossing his face as he gazed down at Adam. “I’m proud of him, you know. Of his strength, his love. He fought for this world, for beings like you... and for beings like me.”

Adam swallowed hard, his heart thudding in his chest as he gazed up at Lucifer. There was so much love, so much reverence in the way Lucifer spoke of his father, and Adam could feel it radiating off him. It was infectious, drawing Adam closer into the warmth of Lucifer’s embrace.

Lucifer smiled, a playful glint in his eyes as he leaned in to press a gentle kiss to Adam’s forehead. “And now you, Adam, you’re part of that incredible story now. My father’s legacy... it lives through you, too and our children.”

“Children?” Adam squawked, his eyes growing wide.

A laugh escaped Lucifer and wiggled his form up against Adam’s. His long slim arms sliding around Adam, pinning him to the bottom of the nest. His cherry-red lips shined as he brought them close to Adam’s.

“That’s right. Our children~” Lucifer cooed, his eyes growing dark and hungry. “I’m gonna fill you up! We’re going to have at least five litters~”

“What?” Adam gasped, shuddering as Lucifer rolled their hips together. “W-Wait – I’m – I can’t carry five litters!”

Nipping at Adam’s throat, Lucifer moaned softly. “Don’t worry. We’ll take turns.”

“Take turns?” Adam repeated with a brilliant blush spreading across his face. “What breed are you-“

A sudden knock on the door shattered the intimate moment between Adam and Lucifer. Adam froze, his entire body going rigid as his breath caught in his throat. Lucifer, however, merely glanced toward the door, his expression one of annoyance, his lips curling into a displeased pout.

"Who dares interrupt us?" Lucifer muttered irritably, his feathers ruffling with irritation.

From the other side of the door, a voice rang out, sultry and commanding. "Adam? It's Lilith. Open the door."

Lucifer’s frown deepened the instant he felt Adam’s reaction. His heart raced wildly, his skin flushing hotter, and a cold sweat broke across his forehead. Lucifer tilted his head, his sharp golden eyes narrowing at Adam.

“And who’s that?” he asked, his voice dripping with judgment.

Adam, suddenly panicking, leapt to his feet, throwing a frantic look at Lucifer. “Hide! You must hide, now!”

Lucifer blinked, completely caught off guard as Adam bundled him up within his arms and practically throw him inside the cupboard.  

“Adam, what—” he started, but before he could finish, he was unceremoniously thrown inside. He let out a startled yelp as he tumbled into the small, cramped space, landing in an ungraceful heap.

Rubbing his head, Lucifer pouted, glaring up at Adam through the cracks of the cupboard door as the Phoenix hurriedly explained. "You need to stay quiet, okay? Don’t make a sound, don’t come out, nothing. Lilith is dangerous, and if anyone finds out about you... I don’t know what’ll happen.”

Lucifer opened his mouth to protest, but Adam was already closing the door, leaving him trapped inside the dark cupboard.

Lucifer grumbled to himself, his pride bruised, but his curiosity piqued. He realized the wooden panels of the cupboard door could be tilted slightly, and he carefully adjusted them, allowing him to peer through the cracks. He watched, both irritated and confused, as Adam frantically straightened his clothes.

Adam caught sight of himself in the mirror, grimacing as he noticed the blood smeared across his body and his tattered clothing. Lucifer, unimpressed, could only roll his eyes as he watched Adam try to make himself look more presentable—though there was only so much that could be done.

Finally, Adam opened the door, and Lucifer’s feathers bristled in recognition. Standing there was an Alpha Jorōgumo, Lilith. She was tall, imposing, with an almost predatory grace. Without hesitation, Lilith pushed her way into the flat, her nose twitching as she immediately caught the scent of fresh blood hanging in the air.

Adam awkwardly closed the door behind her, but before he could say anything, Lilith spun around and grabbed his arm with surprising strength. Her eyes were sharp, glittering with suspicion.

“What happened?” she demanded, her voice sharp and biting. Adam flinched, unable to speak as Lilith’s grip tightened. “How did you get out of Quetzalcoatl’s temple? How weren’t you caught?”

Adam opened his mouth, but nothing came out. He could barely form a thought, let alone a coherent answer. Lilith’s questions came fast, firing off like bullets. “And how did you get back here? What’s going on? Are you not hurt?”

“Lilith, are you okay?” Adam finally managed to stammer, though his voice was shaky and strained.

Lilith ignored his question entirely, her eyes narrowing as she launched into a rant.

“The other Jorōgumo... we found them, scattered around the temple. Dead. Ripped apart and drained of blood.” Her voice dropped, her tone becoming almost curious, even impressed. “Whoever did it was strong. Impressive, really. The Jorōgumo are not easy to take down, let alone an entire herd.”

She paused, her sharp gaze finally flicking around Adam’s flat, taking in the sight of the blood splattered across the room. Her eyes lingered on Adam’s poor excuse for a nest, the telltale stains of blood within it. A slow smirk spread across her lips.

“At first, I thought it was your blood,” she murmured, her voice dark and low. “But no... the scent in here is too rich. It’s not just you. There’s the scent of multiple people... multiple bodies.”

Her eyes gleamed with a sinister hunger as she turned her gaze back to Adam, taking in the sight of him—dishevelled, covered in blood, and clearly panicking.

Adam’s stomach twisted in knots as he looked down at himself. He pulled at his clothes nervously, his voice barely above a whisper. “It’s not my blood...”

Lilith’s lips curled into a dangerous smile. “I know,” she purred, taking a slow, deliberate step toward him. Her eyes were dilated with want, her breathing shallow.

“It’s the blood of my clan. And you—” She closed the distance between them in a flash, pinning Adam to the wall, her body pressing against his. “You took them down, didn’t you?”

Adam’s face flushed with heat as Lilith’s breath brushed against his skin. He tried to squirm away, but her grip was firm.

“I... I didn’t do it,” he stammered, his heart racing in his chest.

Lilith wasn’t listening. Her eyes were glazed over with something dark and dangerous as she leaned in closer, her voice a low, seductive whisper.

“I’m impressed, Adam. I might even consider you as a mate.”

Adam’s heart skipped a beat, his panic rising as he tried to slip out from under her. “I didn’t do it!” he insisted, managing to duck out of her grip and back away. His eyes darted toward the cupboard, hoping Lucifer was staying hidden, though the situation was becoming more dangerous by the second.

But Lilith followed, her gaze predatory, never leaving him.

“Oh, don’t be modest,” she purred, her voice laced with amusement. “Who else could’ve taken down that many Jorōgumo? You’ve impressed me, Adam... and that’s not easy to do.”

Adam’s pulse quickened, his mind racing as he backed further into the flat. He needed to figure out a way to get her to leave before she realized just who, or what, was hiding inside his cupboard.

His thoughts were cut of when Lilith suddenly grabbed him. Her strong hands yanking him close and her face pushing into his throat, inhaling his scent sharply. His body prickled, his skin twitching and hairs standing up on. Adam’s eyes grow wide, and his mouth gapped.

“W-Wait, Lilith, you don’t understand-“

“You don’t smell of anything, but that’s alright.” Lilith said, running a hand down his back. She tilted her head back to look up at him with hooded, glassy eyes. “I’m going to fuck you, Adam. I’ll make you come so hard that you won’t be able to see straight. If I knew how strong you really were all this time, I would have bedded you like you wanted months ago.”

A laugh escaped her. Lilith opened her mouth, revealing rows of sharp teeth. Her spider fangs beginning to stretch out towards him. “Who knew. You just had to kill one of my sisters and I’d become all hot and bothered.”

“Lilith, wait-“

Lilith's fingers clamped around Adam's chin, her grip firm and possessive as she pulled him closer, her eyes dark and predatory. Their lips hovered dangerously close; her breath warm against his skin. Just as Adam’s heart raced in pure terror, sensing her venomous intent, a bone-rattling screech echoed through the room, so sharp and fierce it could have split the heavens.

Lucifer exploded from the cupboard with a roar that shook the very walls. His serpentine body unfurled with startling speed, scales glistening in the dim light. His six massive wings, glowing with an otherworldly power, burst from his back, filling the room with a blinding light as they unfurled.

In the blink of an eye, Lucifer was upon them, moving with the swiftness of a predator. His long, coiling form wrapped protectively and possessively around Adam, spiralling around his torso, shoulders, and head, his immense wings shielding the trembling Omega from Lilith's sight.

Lucifer's sharp teeth flashed dangerously as he hissed at Lilith, his entire being radiating fury.

"How dare you touch my mate!" he spat, his voice low and venomous.

Adam stumbled in the embrace of Lucifer’s coils, his hands instinctively reaching up to steady himself as the Nephilim's sinuous body wound tighter around him. His vision was blocked by Lucifer’s enormous wings, and he found himself clinging to the serpentine form just to keep from falling over.

Lilith gasped and stumbled backward; her eyes wide with shock. She had never seen anything like Lucifer before, and the sheer presence of his dark shadow, now growing monstrous and dragon-like, sent a shiver down her spine. She struggled to find words, but all she could do was stare at the terrifyingly beautiful creature before her.

"Adam is mine," Lucifer snarled, his eyes glowing like molten gold, filled with anger and protectiveness. "He belongs to me! No one—no one—is allowed to touch him, let alone mate with him, but me!"

His wings flared wider, and he loomed over Lilith, his entire body exuding a terrifying dominance. "Leave, or I’ll devour you, just as I devoured your precious Jorōgumo clan."

Lilith’s eyes flickered with fear as she stumbled back further, her confidence and seduction evaporating in the face of Lucifer’s raw, terrifying power. Without another word, she spun on her heel and hurried out of the flat, slamming the door behind her. Her presence disappeared as quickly as it had come.

Even after the door had clicked shut, Lucifer didn’t release Adam right away. His body remained coiled protectively around him, his wings still shrouding Adam from the world. He waited, eyes locked on the door, until he was certain Lilith had truly gone. Only then did he slowly unwind himself, but his anger still simmered just beneath the surface.

Lucifer turned on Adam, his eyes blazing with hurt and frustration.

"How dare you?" he growled, his voice low and dangerous. "How dare you even entertain the idea of mating with someone else when I’m here? How could you let her get that close to you?!"

Adam, still a little shaken, held up his hands in a gesture of surrender.

"Lucifer, I—I wasn’t trying to! I didn’t want that," he stammered, trying to calm the furious Nephilim. "I don’t like Lilith like that. She’s an old friend from when we were kids."

Lucifer’s anger flickered, but it didn’t vanish. His golden eyes narrowed, his wings rustling restlessly behind him.

"She was all over you," he snapped, his jealousy clear in every word. "And you didn’t stop her."

Adam took a deep breath, forcing himself to stay calm. "Lilith isn’t interested in me that way, not really," he said gently. "She’s a Jorōgumo, Lucifer. She only wants strong, powerful mates, someone who’s worthy of her. And I’m... I’m not that."

The words made Lucifer’s expression darken with renewed frustration. His voice dropped to a near-growl. "Is that what you want, then? Do you wish she was interested in you? Would you rather have someone like her instead of me?"

Adam sighed softly and stepped closer, cupping Lucifer’s cheeks with both hands. The warmth of Adam’s touch stilled Lucifer’s angry energy, though the tension in his body remained.

"I used to wish she was," Adam admitted, his voice soft but honest. Lucifer’s whole body stiffened at the confession, his heart twisting painfully in his chest. But Adam wasn’t finished. "I thought if Lilith showed any interest in me, then maybe... maybe I wasn’t as hopeless as everyone said. That maybe I wouldn’t be alone forever."

Adam’s eyes softened as he continued. "But that was before... before I found you again."

He smiled, his heart swelling with emotion as he looked into Lucifer’s glowing eyes. "Before I felt you calling to me like you always have. And now that I know you’re real, that you’re here, I can’t imagine being with anyone but you."

Lucifer’s breath caught in his throat, his golden eyes widening as Adam’s words sank in. For a moment, he was stunned into silence. Then, his anger melted away, replaced by a deep, overwhelming tenderness. His wings folded inward, brushing against Adam gently, protectively.

"Does this mean..." Lucifer began, his voice soft and almost shy for the first time, "you’ve accepted being my mate?"

Adam blushed deeply, his cheeks turning a soft pink as he averted his eyes for a moment, feeling bashful. But then he nodded, his gaze returning to Lucifer’s with absolute certainty.

"Yes," he said quietly but firmly. "I love you, Lucifer. I’ve always loved you. Even when everyone told me you weren’t real, I believed in you. And now that I know you are... I don’t want anyone else."

Lucifer’s entire face lit up with pure, unbridled joy. He smiled, wide and radiant, his wings shimmering with happiness as they gently curled around Adam once more.

"Adam..." he breathed, his voice full of love and wonder.

In that moment, all the tension, the jealousy, and the fear melted away. There was only them—two souls intertwined, finding each other again after so long. Lucifer leaned in slowly, his lips brushing against Adam’s forehead in the gentlest of kisses.

"You are mine, then," Lucifer whispered, his voice soft and filled with awe. "And I’m yours."

Adam blushed even deeper but smiled, resting his head against Lucifer’s chest, feeling the steady, warm rhythm of his heartbeat.

"Always," he whispered back, his arms wrapping around Lucifer’s serpentine form.

And for the first time in what felt like forever, Adam felt whole.

[wolfsetfree-if]

hen mc will now live in my head rent-free esp if their fur is all fluffy. it reminds me of that one gif where a giant fluffy bernese is lying on its paws and the owner asks, where is the cat?? the dog raises its head and the kitty pops up, all rumpled and sleepy 😂 if any of the pups grows up to be an alpha, i imagine they'd be veeeery smug that they can still fit under omega mc

Oh, I saw it! So cute, MC would be the same with the pups!

Definitely an older alpha kid still going to their omega parent for the best snuggles, happy to still experience the feeling of being surrounded by their parent, surrounded by their familiar, comforting scent

[amethystdreamer114]

My Weakness Part 2/?

Summary: ABO where Gold is a hot-blooded alpha and struggles with rutting symptoms, while trying his hardest to gain your favor before the worst hits…

TW: rut, swearing, smut, vomiting, random other sickfic stuff I decide on- honestly this is kinda a kitchen sink sickfic so😂

As soon as he left his shop, the cold air hit hard, making him shiver so hard he could barely move. The dim streetlights and similar looking cobblestone alleyways didn’t make it easy to navigate as his sense of direction was marred by intense dizziness.

“J-j-just have to m-make it t-to the d-dock…” he reminded himself.

The further he walked, the more his old leg injury flared up, leaving him limping (and occasionally falling) onto the icy sidewalks. Between the chills, his confusion, and the fact that he hadn’t been able to eat all day due to nausea, he nearly passed out at the boarding ramp of the ship.

“Aye! Outta here you bloody crocodile! I’ll not have you on my ship. You try, you’ll lose.” Hook was serious. His sword was already drawn. As an alpha himself, he could smell Gold’s rut coming on quick. You’d already gone to bed and he was about to join you… except for one thing.

“Killian you okay? I smelled…” you gasped when you saw Gold, who was slowly turning into Rumple.

“He’s not our problem lass. He’d have Belle if he hadn’t been an ass.” Killian’s eyes were like knives.

“Please I-I’m-“ he shuddered, falling to his knees.

You couldn’t bear to see someone in such a vulnerable state, alone, and you knew it would only get worse. Not to mention, you and Killian hadn’t exactly been *happy* lately.

You grabbed your coat and started down the ramp.

“(Y/n)! He’s fine! He doesn’t deserve-“

You cut him off.

“I’m not about to let him suffer. If you had half a heart, you’d understand.” You scolded, finally reaching him.

At first, he flinched away from your touch, not wanting to cause more trouble. His head was beginning to hurt and any yelling would have him curled up on the concrete, clutching his temples.

“It’s alright sweetheart, I won’t hurt you. He won’t hurt you either.” You whispered, looking up at Killian who was absolutely fuming.

“I’m gonna get you back to your shop. You just tell me when you think you can move.” You stroked his hair back and then down his neck. He felt so warm as he leaned into your touch with a pitiful whimper.

He curled into your chest, as his animalistic instincts took over.

“You s-smell so-“ your scent calmed him down quite a bit. His chills lessened, and the aches in his muscles had relaxed.

“And I’m gonna be here,” you rubbed his back. “As long as you need me.”

He nodded, now transforming further into his Rumplestiltskin appearance. His now curled hair fluffed up against your breast as he cuddled into you.

Killian just huffed and started throwing random items like his canteen overboard or to the other side of the ship where they’d shatter.

Each sound led to Rumple nearly bursting into tears. Loud noises and bright light sensitivity… both signs of a rut-induced migraine which only happened when an alpha didn’t have a set mate.

“I’m staying with you Rumple,” you soothed him before carefully helping him to his feet to begin the trek back to his shop.

[marc--chilton]

(mgv) wilson absolutely finds amusement in house's worry that wilson will cheat on him even after they have a kid together, no matter how many times he emphasizes he'd have to be a colossal idiot to cheat on a lunatic like house. to wilson, it's such a ridiculous fear (that he can't entirely blame house for having) that, for his own entertainment, he will weaponize just to rile house up. he's at the nurse's station exchanging files or whatever, holding giselle with one arm while she dozes on his shoulder, smiling that prettyboy smile at pretty nurse #9201757 right where house can see him from his office. and everyone knows how attractive it is for an alpha to be good with kids.

his smile doesn't fade even as the nurse skitters away. if anything, he has to bite the inside of his cheek so he isn't outright grinning, especially when he can pinpoint house's approach now not just by the sound of his gait, but how giselle perks up, wiggling a little and yipping, pleased and still sleepy. house's dramatic entrance is ruined a little by his quick little trill to their pup before he's back to glowering.

"back to your old panty-peeling ways, i see"

chipper as can be, wilson replies, "good afternoon to you too, jealous ass!"

needless to say, the ploy to make house jealous just so wilson can enjoy the possessiveness works flawlessly. by the time house stalks off -- with giselle, bc naptime or not it's his turn to watch her -- wilson is left at the station, ruffled and rumpled where house had scentmarked him all over while his arms were full of their pup leaving him defenseless. and rather than get flustered and embarrassed like he would before, he just laughs. runs a cursory hand through his hair, straightens his coat and collar and tie on his way back to his office, and only halfway hopes he doesn't look like a total idiot giggling and purring down the hall

[viviseawrites]

it's time! my piece for the @steddiebang2024 is finally here!

a pretense of the heart

rated E | chapter 1 of 5 | an enemies-to-lovers omegaverse regency au with beautiful art by @lulalulens, betaed by @pink-luna-moth.

summary: The society season in Hawkins lasts only a few months, but its ramifications can last a lifetime. And for omega Steven Harrington, this season will be the most unforgettable of his life. Between a string of high-profile deaths and multiple tense encounters with infuriating alpha Edward Munson, he almost wishes to skip the season entirely. If only that were an option.

excerpt from chapter 1 — the minuet:

“Oh, Mr. Munson, have you met the Honorable Mr. Steven Harrington?”

Those deep brown eyes swing his way—the same as they were that day across the street—and Steve sees the moment Munson recognizes him, sees the quirk of his eyebrow and the slight upturn of his lips before he bows, more dramatic than proper. The edge of playful acknowledgment brings a hot flush of something like exhilaration to Steve’s face. “I had not, but I thank you for the introduction, Miss Cunningham. Edward Munson, at your service. It is a pleasure to meet you.”

“Likewise,” Steve mutters without thinking. He watches Mr. Munson’s eyebrows slowly climb his forehead at the awkward silence that settles between them. What in the world is Steve supposed to talk about with him—cricket? Embroidery? Horses, perhaps?

Bless Miss Cunningham. She steps forward to ask Miss Perkins about her dress, and Steve gratefully seizes upon the distraction, only allowing a quick glance at Mr. Munson out of the corner of his eye. With the attention seemingly diverted from him, Mr. Munson takes up far less space. He stares out over the crowd, eyes roving from face to face with something almost careful in his gaze, and Steve notices the way he sways on his feet, his hands shoved into the pockets of his trousers, rumpling the line of them.

Well, Steve finally found him after spending so long thinking about him. He might as well make an effort, he decides, tilting his head just so and softening his jaw before he speaks. “Have you tried the punch tonight, Mr. Munson?” Steve ventures.

Mr. Munson whips his head back around to face Steve at the question, startled, but he relaxes again immediately. “Nope,” he says. His mouth shapes each letter in a way that draws Steve’s gaze to his lips. He wonders for a brief second how they would feel against his own.

He needs to get himself under control, he realizes, noting the amusement blooming across Mr. Munson’s face. Right. Steve straightens his shoulders. Perhaps his reputation has not yet reached Mr. Munson’s ears. Perhaps Steve still may have a chance, and he intends not to waste it.

read the rest on ao3

[quackquackcey]

Writing Patterns

Rules: list the first line of your last 10 11 (posted) fics and see if there's a pattern!

I was tagged by the amazing @renmackree! 💛 I'm kinda curious about my pattern; I have a feeling it's dialogue.... LOL (I won't include drabbles 🌝)

Lava Cakes & Molten Chocolates

E | Sterek | 6k | post-canon, love potion mishap, fluff & smut, mating bite

"Stiles."

Derek's Kumquat

E | Sterek | 45k | post-canon, friends w/ benefits to lovers, smutty, humor

“I’m like this kumquat, sweet on the outside and tart on the inside.”

Hottest Thing Since Stuffed Crust

E | Sterek | 4k | canon div, college student!Stiles, getting together, car sex

"Uh, hey."

Stiles the Furry Little Disaster Waiting to Happen

T | Sterek | 5k wip | summer between seasons 2 & 3, spell gone wrong, hamster!Stiles feat. Derek's big boobies lol

Stiles loved animals.

“Me too”

E | Sterek | 10k | canon div, college student!Stiles, costume party, baking, smut, massage...

Stiles had a weird habit.

Blooms in the Darkness

E | Sterek | 18k | season 3B rewrite, void!Stiles, anchors, spark awakening, smut, hurt/comfort

It first began as nothing more than a speck.

Meat, Ducks, & Cigarettes

E | Lawlu | 8k | high school AU, hungry days-inspired, delinquents, fighting, smut

“Hey, Torao, can I—”

More Than Obsessed

E | Sterek | 43k | AU, serpentine!Stiles x killer!Derek, action, smut, mates, you can't spell manslaughter without laughter

The first time Stiles saw him, he thought, ‘Does this guy even know what he’s doing with that fishing pole?’

Rumpled sheets, smoke-tinged kisses, and sea salted lightning

E | Sterek | 14k | modern AU, a/b/o, case!fic, alpha mafia boss!Derek x omega FBI agent!Stiles, spark awakening

The canteen quieted from carefree chatter to hushed whispers, as it did everytime Stiles and Derek walked in.

Like Clockwork

E | Sterek | 6k | modern AU, a/b/o, alpha CEO!Derek x omega secretary!Stiles, pwp, animal hybrids

Stiles had never believed in love at first sight.

More Than Enough

E | Sterek | 8k | season 2 rewrite, get together after pool scene, 5 + 1 things, hurt/comfort, smut

“The only way to prove yourself is through blood. Fear. Remember that.”

Kind of a pattern w/ dialogue as I thought, although less dialogue than I thought... lmao 👁👁 I did 11 bc I have a huge soft spot for More Than Enough, don't mind me lol 🌝

Idk who's done this but I'll low-pressure tag @chenziee, @katia-anyway, @sugareey-makes-stuff, @basicallyahedgehog, @betsib - anyone feel free to join!

[missacidburn928s-heathenhideaway]

Intoxicating. That's What You Are. (Affinity Series)

Alpha!Bucky x Sweet Little Omega!POC!Reader

Wordcount: 1413

Summary:

A surprise morning visit from Bucky while you get ready for the day. Cuddly, cute, soft Bucky, just wanting to take care of his omega before she goes about her day.

Warnings:

Fluff and Smut, Mild Smut, Alpha/Omega, Alpha Bucky Barnes, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Sweet Bucky Barnes, Soft Bucky Barnes, Oral Sex

Notes:

Sometimes art imitates life 😉

Bannner by @cafekitsune Divider by @firefly-graphics

Sunlight creeps in through the curtains of your large bay window, filling the room with its warmth, slowly rousing you from your slumber. You bury your face in the red henley you wore to bed and inhale the fading scent of sandalwood, whiskey and honey, a small smile appearing on your sleep rumpled face. It’s been two weeks since you last saw Bucky as he has been away on a mission with Steve and Sam. He’s kept in contact as best he could, texting when he had a signal and you even got a call last week. Nothing compares to having your Alpha in your bed keeping you warm though. Hopefully he’ll be home safe and sound soon. Until then you do have a life you have to keep living. No use in daydreaming the morning away when you have things to get done. 

You throw the comforter back and place your bare feet on the soft rug beneath your bed, stretching out your back and arms before getting up and doing your morning routine. After relieving your very full bladder, you brush your teeth and then turn the shower on to heat up while you head to the closest to grab clothes for the day. As you are standing in front of the full length mirror, a dress in each hand, holding each up to your chest, trying to see which one to put on you spot a figure standing in the doorway behind you. You lock eyes with the steel greys of your Alpha.

“Oh don’t mind me. Just enjoying the view.” His eyes roam up your bare legs and stop as he reaches your bottom. “Is that my shirt?” He asks with a smirk and a hint of lust in his voice. 

“Yes it is. It’s the only thing around here that smells like you. I missed you and this helped me calm down enough to sleep and stay asleep. You know what your scent does to me, Bucky.” You state as you turn around and place the dresses on the bench seat of the bay window. You walk over to your Alpha and caress his scruffy jaw. He must have come here straight from his debrief as he still has pieces of his uniform on. “I won’t ever apologize for wanting a piece of you near me when you're not around. Even if it’s just a shirt you left behind that faintly smells like you. You’re mine and I like having your scent wrapped around me.” You lightly kiss the cleft in his chin. “What brings you here so early? Did I miss a call or text from you?”

He wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you close. “No my sweet little Omega, you didn’t miss a call or text from me. I didn't want to wake you. We got in pretty early this morning and then had to debrief. I still have to write up my report but I can do that later at mine and Steve’s place. I needed to see you and hold you in my arms. I can feel my rut coming. Should be here in the next couple days and you know how rough I can get during it. Just wanted to love on my girl a bit, remind her how sweet I can be before I lose my mind to my rut.” He kisses your forehead. 

You let out a sigh of contentment and look up at him. “You know I love all the pieces of you right? Even the feral ones. I quite like those parts actually.” You bite your lip thinking about how he absolutely destroys you when he’s in rut and you can't wait. “With that said, I’ll happily take your sweetness this morning. Just so long as I can make it to work on time.” You run your hands through the hairs on his nape, inciting a soft purr to emanate from his chest. 

“As much as I want to throw you back into bed and just take my time worshiping every inch of your delectable body; I know how much your work means to you. So that will have to wait until tonight. For now, I think I can settle for a taste before we both have to head back out into the world. What do you say, Doll? Can I feast upon the sweet honey that weeps from between your thighs? I’ll make it quick I promise. Just a taste and then I’ll help you finish getting ready for the day.” His hands have slipped under your shirt and are rubbing small circles into your back. 

“When you ask so sweetly, how could I possibly say no.”

A grins splits across his face and before you know it your back hits the mattress of your king sized bed and Bucky is pushing your legs apart resting your knees on his broad shoulders. He kisses your thighs. “This is the only place I wanted to be for the last 48 hours. Couldn't stop thinking about all the little noises you make for me when I eat you out. How you squirm when I hit the right spot with my tongue. Fuck . Just look at you Omega, so wet for me you're dripping onto the sheets already.” He swipes his tongue up along your folds from entrance to clit, eliciting a moan from you. You’re always super sensitive in the morning and you haven't even touched yourself in the two weeks he's been gone. So just that little movement is almost too much already. 

He wasn't kidding when he said he’d make it quick. He wasted no time thrusting his tongue inside you. The thick muscle massaging your silken walls, giving them something to clamp on to. “ Fuck, Alpha. That feels so good.” Your hands are anchored in his hair, just enjoying the ride on his tongue he is giving you. When he swirls his tongue, pulls it out and then moves it to lightly draw figure eight patterns on your clit you lose it. A rainbow of stars detonate behind your eyes and your hearing goes fuzzy as the orgam slams into you. Gripping onto his locks tighter as you writhe beneath him, back arching off the mattress before you go limp, laying in a state of bonelessness.

As the sounds of your apartment start to come back to you, you blink open your eyes and peer down at Bucky. His chin is glistening wet. A saccharine smile gracing his handsome face. Adoration shining in is icy blues. “There she is. Welcome back Omega.” He laughs. “Had me worried for a minute there.Thought I might have made ya pass out. Looks like it was just one hell of an orgasm.” 

A sweet smile adorns your blissed out face. “One hell of an orgasm indeed.” You look over to the clock on the nightstand. “Looks like we still have a bit of time before the water runs cold in my shower and I certainly owe you after that performance. How about a little oral reciprocation in the shower, Alpha? Get dirty while we get clean.”

He chuckles. “While I would love nothing more. You know how I feel about that mouth of yours. That’s not going to be necessary. Seems I was a bit backed up from my mission and the way you were gripping my hair and just riding my face at the end, sort of sent me over the edge with you.” He sits up and you spot a darkened patch near his inner thigh. 

“Is it normal that I find it extremely sexy that you came just from eating me out?” You ask as you run your fingers down his abs and tease his waistband. 

“What can I say. Pleasing you pleases me Doll. Let’s get you in that shower before it runs cold and get you headed out for the day.” He grabs your hand and kisses your knuckles. “The quicker you get your sexy ass to work the sooner you’ll be back home and we can get lost between the sheets for a couple hours.” He stares deeply into your eyes. “I’ll even knot ya real nice and sweet. Reclaim you while we're making love. You deserve some sweetness before my rut fully hits and I utterly destroy you.” With that he picks you up off the bed and carries you into the bathroom so you can finally start your day. 

[leviackermanscleaningbuddy]

SKZ DRABBLE-OT8

The one where volunteering sucks. And freshmen are just as bad for your health as energy drinks.

Or the seventeenth installment of the SKZ!pack prequel series.

Tags: Skz, Stray Kids, Stay, OT8, SKZ!pack, SKZ!abo, Poly!skz, omegaverse, pack!prequel, skz!Pack prequel series, new, update, skz x you, skz x reader, ot8 x you, ot8 x reader, bang chan, lee minho, seo changbin, lee felix, hwang hyunjin, han jisung, kim seungmin, yang jeongin, y/n, fluff, skz fluff

Genre: Fluff

Title: Orientation

“I can’t believe you let hyung talk you into volunteering. Let alone a whole day of giving tours to baby freshmen who have proven to be no smarter than a box of rocks and just as annoying.” Hyunjin scoffs as he catches sight of you, tugging on your ‘Department of Sciences’ hoodie. 

Jisung makes a noise of annoyance in his throat, a nonverbal beratement at Hyunjin to stop moving around so goddamn much, and paints another coat of nail polish across the omega’s nail, his tongue stuck between his lips in concentration. 

You sigh and roll your eyes. “You get a class credit for doing it. It’s an easy A.” 

Hyunjin snorts, but stays still this time, giving you an unconvinced stare from the kitchen table. “Still can’t believe it.” 

“And I still can’t believe that you all took bets on my kinks.” Chan enters the kitchen now on the tail end of the conversation, straightening his unruly curls with his fingers, already sporting his navy ‘Department of Music’ sweatshirt. He gives Hyunjin a sharp stare, only given away by the slightly amused twitch to his lips. “So I guess we’re even.” 

Minho appears in the doorway, looking entirely too sleep rumpled for almost eleven in the morning, and scowls at all of you. 

“What the hell are you all doing in my kitchen?” 

“Hanging out.” Hyunjin offers unhelpfully, as Jisung finishes one of his hands with a flourish and an admonishment to blow carefully on the wet nails. 

“I think the freshmen are cute.” Felix chimes in, sliding into the seat next to Hyunjin and resting his head lightly on the other omega’s shoulder. “They’re precious, all wide eyed and innocent and excited for a new year.” 

Minho looks downright exasperated now. 

“Oh my god, is literally everyone here?” 

Jisung scoffs. “You would. Leave it to Sunshine Angel Baby Felix to think the newest wave of fresh meat is ‘adorable.’” 

“I hate the freshmen.” Changbin grunts, sliding carefully past Minho in the doorway, headed straight for the fridge, as he tugs open the door and reaches inside to pull out a bottle of orange juice. “They come into the studio spaces and fuck all the equipment up.” 

He lifts the juice to his lips in an annoyed sort of motion and takes a swig right from the jug. 

“Seo Changbin, I know you did not just drink straight out of my carton like some sort of bumbling, disgusting, uncivilized neanderthal.” 

Changbin looks suitably apologetic as he wipes his mouth on the back of his hand. “Sorry, hyung.” 

“The actual worst thing about freshmen though, is that they don’t know how to keep their stupid hands or thoughts to themselves.” Hyunjin continues with barely concealed annoyance, as Seungmin skirts around the still lurking Minho and tosses Changbin a cup from the cabinet with remarkable ease. 

Minho sighs and scrubs down his face with his hand as if he’s about to commit murder, before he turns and disappears back down the hallway to his room without a word. 

A moment later, a door slams shut.

“Yeah.” Jisung agrees with a vicious nod, digging around in Minho’s pantry and emerging victoriously with a bag of chips in his fisted grip, which he uses to point sternly in Hyunjin’s direction, then your own. “Noona is hella hot-goddamn fine even-and those little cretins are gonna be hitting on her alllllll day.” 

Beside you, Chan makes a sound of betrayal in his throat. 

“What am I, chopped liver?” 

You grin and turn to the put-out alpha standing beside you, patting his cheek a few times, none too gently, with the open palm of your hand. 

“You’re very pretty, Christopher. Now c’mon, we’re gonna be late.” 

********

You pop open a much needed can of Monster on your walk across campus, and Chan immediately gives you a judgmental side eye as you lift the energy drink to your lips. 

“Energy drinks are bad for you, you know.” 

You take a long sip, and stare him down boldly. “Funny, cause you know what else is bad for me? Children. And we’re about to spend the whole day with a fuck ton of them.” 

Chan considers you for a moment, dark eyes thoughtful, and then reaches for the can, fingers curling around your own as he steals it and raises it to his own lips for a quick swig. 

“Touche.” 

You walk in silence for several moments, gravel crunching beneath your feet, and then Chan says, glancing sidelong at you once more, “You look cute, you know? In your department sweatshirt.” 

You roll your eyes and hide the smile that’s threatening behind your teeth. 

Instead, you turn to him and raise a brow, keeping your expression serious. 

“I’d look cuter if it were off of me though.” 

Chan chokes on the sip of energy drink he has just stolen, and you laugh as he hands you back the can once more, coughing, desperately trying to scrub off the spilled stain that now marks the front of his hoodie. 

“Shit.” 

You pull him to a stop, turning him to face you as you knock his fumbling hands out of the way and pat at the spilled energy drink with a napkin from the recesses of your backpack. 

You’re aware he’s watching you, but you purposefully keep your gaze downturned, focusing more than is necessary on wiping away the stain from the navy material. 

You finally chance a glance up at him through your lashes. 

“You’re just too easy, baby. I had to.” You give a little laugh and a shrug as you finally release your hold on him, but don’t step away. “Sorry.” 

Something flickers across his gaze at your words, but you don’t catch what it is before it disappears, and then he says quietly, “Say that again.” 

You tilt your head and stare up at him, confused. 

“What? Sorry?” 

He shakes his own head, curls falling into his eyes, and there is a thin ring of gold around his pupils now, bleeding into the caramel of his irises. 

“No. What you called me.” 

Understanding dawns on you, and you swallow, trying to ignore the sudden heavy scent of rain in the surrounding air. 

“What, baby?” 

Chan hums, a contented sort of rumble in his chest, and your wolf practically salivates at the way his pupils dilate in response to your voice, and that word. 

“Interesting.” You muse, smirking now. 

You take a step closer to him. 

Chan lets out a long, controlled breath between barely parted lips, and shakes his head, and when he looks at you again, there’s no sign of the gold, of the alpha, that plagued his eyes, only moments before. 

He offers you the hint of a sheepish smile as you feel your own wolf retreat a bit. 

“Sorry. It’s been awhile.” 

You study him for another long moment, and then put some space in between you once more.

“Changbin calls you ‘babe’ at the studio all the time. He told me.” 

Chan grimaces as you both continue to walk once more.

“Yeah, but that’s not the same, that’s just in joking. Bros being bros.” 

“Is it?” You query, glancing at him from the corner of your eye, and you see realization begin to cross his face. 

“Isn’t it?” He repeats back slightly under his breath, brow furrowed. 

You groan and roll your eyes, hurrying your steps so he has to catch up to you, still looking deep in thought. 

“God, the music department is so gay.” 

********

“Okay, any questions?” You clap your hands to get the chattering group of freshmen’s attention, as Chan does his best to round them up into one space outside the campus cafeteria. 

One of the girls-Rheena? Raina?-raises her hand.

You point to her. 

“Yeah.” 

She glances at Chan like he’s put the stars in the sky, her pale pink lips slightly agape as she ogles. 

“Is he your boyfriend?” 

Chan looks caught off guard, glancing at you with a hooded expression, one brow raised.

You sigh. “Yes.” You glance around the group, ignoring the crestfallen look on the omega girl’s face. “Any other questions?” 

Another freshman raises their hand, this time, a boy. 

You don’t like the cocky look in his eye. 

“How’d you manage to bag another alpha? Isn’t that like, weird or something?” 

You sigh again, longer this time, and mutter beneath your breath, “I meant questions about the tour, god.” 

You force a smile onto your face and stare down the smirking little shit-newly alpha-as you say tightly, “It’s not weird. Perfectly acceptable actually.” 

The boy looks like he’s about to say something else, but luckily, Chan jumps in before he can speak again. 

“Okay!” He claps his hands loudly and grins at the freshman. “Lunch time! You can enter the cafeteria through the doors behind you, use the cards we showed you to pay for your meal plan, and then find somewhere to sit.” He glances down at the watch he wears and then back to the group of kids before you. “You’ve got an hour and a half, and then we need to meet back here for the final leg of the tour, okay? Everybody got that?” 

There are several nods and murmurs of agreement, and then the group of freshmen disperse and disappear into the swinging doors that lead to the cafeteria. 

You blow out the annoyed breath you’ve been holding and subtly flip little alpha man off behind his back as he leaves your sight. 

Beside you, Chan chuckles. 

“You weren’t kidding when you said you didn’t like kids.” You scoff and shoot him a glare. “It’s not that I don’t like kids, okay? I just don’t like that kid.” 

Chan grins, all flashing pointed teeth, and hands you your sack lunch as you both settle onto the cement stairs behind you, a knowing look in his eyes as he watches you dig around for your sandwich. 

“Fair. But you also have to remember-” He takes a bite of his own sandwich, chewing thoughtfully. “-it sucks to present. He’s probably dealing with a whole slew of hormones from his alpha that he didn’t even have to think about before.” 

You chew sullenly, unwilling to give Chan the point he deserves. 

He takes a sip from his coke and glances at you sidelong, waiting. 

You sigh and crush your own now empty can between your fingers. 

“Fine. I’ll try to give him the benefit of the doubt.” 

Chan grins, tossing his eaten lunch into the nearest trash can, before he leans over and pats your head in an altogether annoying way, which is why it catches you off guard completely when he murmurs in your ear, breath warm on your skin, voice dipping into deep alpha timber. 

“Good girl.” 

You swallow your bite of sandwich, now dry in your mouth, and try not to think about earlier, when he had asked you to repeat what you had said, in that same lilting, deep, commanding tone. 

Say that again. 

You repress a shudder and throw your own half eaten lunch into the same trash can. 

“Well if it isn’t my two favorite nerds.” 

A familiar voice breaks through the tension of the moment, followed by a snap of Autumn in the air, and you both glance up as San, grinning ear to ear, comes into view around the corner of the cafeteria. 

You immediately groan even as Chan stands to give the incoming beta a high five. 

San’s face doesn’t lose its grin as they both settle back down beside you, the beta throwing his arms around the two of you and pulling you close. 

“Sup, alphas?” 

You roll your eyes. “Why am I not surprised that you’re here? Although-” You glance to where he appeared, half expecting to see Wooyoung rounding the corner at any moment. “-where’s your better half? I’d think your ugly mug would scare the children if he’s not around.” 

You offer him a sweetly innocent smile. 

San scoffs. “Please. I’m hot as fuck and you know it.” 

A crisp, cold wave of early Autumn washes over you at his words, and you make a show of pinching your nose. 

“Seriously, Sannie, did he forget your leash? There’s no other way he’d let you wander around on your own.” 

“For your information, I hold his leash, so jot that down-” San leans into you and runs his cold nose along your throat, even as you shove him away from you. He gives you a grin so wide his eyes disappear into crescents. “-and second, he’s rounding up our kids for the second half of the tour.” 

“You let him do that on his own?” Chan asks with slight amusement, glancing down at his watch, even as he stands and stretches. 

“Of course.” San shrugs, dark eyes gleaming now, as he smirks wickedly. “I wanted him to know what the rest of us have to deal with on a daily basis, living with him.” 

“Cruel.” You remark, but there’s respect in your tone, and he knows it. 

“Cruel, but just.” He gives you a wink, and you grin. 

San stands, towering next to Chan, and stretches his own arms above his head, his maroon ‘Department of Dance’ sweatshirt riding up to reveal a tan swath of skin, and the beginning lines of the dark ink of his matching tattoo that he shares with his moonmate, sketched across his hip. 

You stand as well, gathering up the last of your trash, and San gives you a questioning look. 

“Where’s Minnie? Couldn’t convince him to come this year?” 

You snort beneath your breath. “Lee Minho would rather pull out his own teeth than have to deal with freshmen-and you-all day.” 

San makes a wounded face, always dramatic, as you all begin walking toward the cafeteria and the bustling groups of freshmen. 

“Damn. Harsh.” He grins roguishly. “I was really looking forward to us wearing matching couple’s hoodies.” 

“Pretty sure Minho burned that sweatshirt the first week of school. Something about ‘lack of school spirit and maroon isn’t his color.’” Chan remarks dryly from San’s other side, and the beta mocks a pout. 

“He would.” 

San glances over your head and waves wildly to someone, and you follow his gaze, finding a harried looking Wooyoung standing with a large group of gathered freshmen, tapping his foot impatiently and glaring at the beta beside you. 

San whistles beneath his breath. “He looks mad.” 

You nod in agreement. “You’re gonna die.” 

Chan claps the beta on the back. “Hell of a way to go, man.” 

San sighs, and then he perks up again, whirling to face the two of you even as he walks away, walking backward and somehow narrowly avoiding every freshman in his path. 

He points to the two of you. “Oh, hey! We’ve got a freshie in our group that doesn’t belong. Not interested in Dance or anything down that alley whatsoever, but he’s still undecided major wise. Care if I send the little dude to you for the second half? Maybe he’ll dig science or music.” 

Beside you, Chan shrugs. 

“Sure. Send him over.” 

San gives you an enthusiastic double thumbs up, and turns to run in the direction of the still waiting Wooyoung. 

“Think they’ll accept a trade?” You remark sarcastically beneath your breath, as your own group comes into view, cocky little alpha shit right up front and center, your gaze immediately falling to him. 

Chan nudges you warningly in the side, and you bite back a smirk. 

He’s addressing the group of waiting freshmen, when San saunters over with the newest member of your entourage, pulling him up beside you quietly as Chan continues to go over the itinerary for the rest of the day. 

You glance over your shoulder at the beta, and unwittingly, your gaze falls to the boy beside him. 

He’s small, dark red hair falling over the tips of his ears, pointed features pretty and delicate, fox-like, the way he holds himself reminding you a little bit of Felix, unsure and hesitant. 

San is saying something to you, but you’re not registering, because something deep inside-your wolf-is keeping your gaze pinned on the mysterious freshman at his side. 

And then, it hits you. 

He doesn’t smell. He doesn’t have a scent. 

Whereas the rest of the incoming students haven’t quite learned how to control their pheromones yet, their scents strong in your nose, telling you exactly where they fall in the subgender way of things, the boy in front of you smells like nothing-nothing except laundry detergent and maybe a little bit of sweat from the high overhead sun. 

He’s unpresented? Is that even still a thing? 

Curiosity instantly rears its head, and your wolf simultaneously urges you forward without a second thought. 

You hold out your hand, and San stops talking, looking at you curiously. 

“(Y/N).” Your fingers don’t waver, as you watch the boy glance to you in slight surprise, and then down to your still outstretched hand. “And you are?” 

After another brief moment of hesitation, he places his palm in yours. 

“Yang Jeongin.”

San chuckles, giving you a knowing look, which you dutifully ignore, and claps the new student on the back once more. 

“Well, you’re in good hands, Jeongin. I’m gonna get going.” 

And then he’s gone, with one last pointed look in your direction. 

It’s then that you realize your fingers are still interlaced with Jeongin’s, and you pull back abruptly, clearing your throat, even as Chan finally finishes his long winded speech to the other freshmen. 

“Well, Jeongin.” You motion with your head to the group behind you. “Hopefully you think Music and Science are a bit more interesting than whatever those two goons had going on in your old group.” 

Jeongin stares at you for a moment, and then he smiles, and something within you loses breath at the sight, his sharp teeth flashing, eyes disappearing into crescent moons within his cheeks. 

“I’m sure I’ll fit in just fine.” 

You swallow hard, and pull your gaze away from his own, glancing at Chan now, who is staring at the two of you quizzically, one eyebrow raised in silent question. 

You shrug in the other alpha’s direction, and then turn back to Jeongin with a nod. 

“I’m sure you will, Yang Jeongin. I have no doubt about that.”

************************************************************************

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[eevylynn]

First Line Game

The lovely @whimsicalmeerkat tagged me in this. The idea is to post the first line from the last ten fics you posted and see if there’s a trend.

Yeah, so a couple needed more than one imho, oh well!

Low pressure tags: @endwersed @hedwig221b @takadasaiko @reidslovely

1. Dark Horse || Stiles/Void Stiles E || 1909 wc

“Breathe.” His whole body was buzzing; his brain felt staticky. Stiles bit his lip to test how that felt. It hurt. A lot actually… Wait, that’s good right?

2. September First || Sterek, Hogwarts AU T || 2789 wc

Noah Stilinski popped his head into his son’s room, knocking softly on the door as he went to wake his son up to get him ready to catch the train.

3. That Boy is a Monster || Sterek, Creature Stiles G || 1836 wc

“Stiles, run!” Derek yelled, frantically turning to push him away from the giant reptile creature. 

4. Late Night Devil || Steter, Murder Mates T || 2126 wc

Peter prowled through the dense foliage of the preserve, his burden slung over his shoulder like a macabre trophy.

5. Tiny Spark, Mighty Flame || Sterek, Werewolf Stiles T || 4833 wc

Among born werewolves, it was common knowledge that the prime age for a human to endure the bite of an Alpha and survive was typically during their teenage or young adult years.

6. Love and Frogs || Stiles/Kira/Malia G || 1956 wc

Kira was practically vibrating out of her seat by the time Stiles threw his jeep into park.

7. You're Good || Sterek, Future Fic E || 7576 wc

Locking the office up with a whistle, Stiles tossed his keys in the air before catching them and shoving them in his back pocket before he turned to walk down the street to the combination coffee and bar that sat a block or so away from his office.

8. His Little Miracle || Sterek, Kid fic G || 651 wc

A cry crackled from the baby monitor, rousing Stiles from his deep slumber. A quick glance at the clock on his phone told him it was 3:30, so it was past the time Eli would normally wake for Derek to feed him.

9. Tallahassee Bagels || Swanfire, Non-magic Foodtruck AU G || 884 wc

Emma sighed as she took a break from doing paperwork. While she enjoyed the rush that came from solving a case, she really hated the paperwork. After a glance at the clock overhead told her it was nearing noon, she figured now was as good a time as any to take a much needed break.

10. Torque and Tumblers || Stiltskin Fam (Henry, Nealfire, & Rumple) G || 1249 wc

“It’s all about the tumblers,” Neal said as he wiggled one pick around before twisting with the other causing an audible “tick”.