#alpha/omega chase

[spn-fanfic-reblog-writes]

“Don’t Provoke Dean”

Chapter 2

She had no idea where she was going, but her Omega told her to run hard from the pack leader. She knew she was faster than him, which meant he had to be smart or wait for her to get tired. She huffed, losing her jacket, she scented the air, searching for water. She moved around trees, avoiding bushes to prevent leaving her scent. Her human mind, still somewhat alert, began to question if she wanted to be caught.

She knew how she felt about him but was uncertain of his current intention. She was scared she pushed him too far and broke their friendship. Her Omega said differently believing this to be a mating run. She disbelieved the hopeful side of her. No one had ever punished her since she was packless. Being packless protected her from a lot of harm, but it also meant if an Alpha tried or did anything, there was no one to protect her or demand recompense on her behalf.

Every time she thought of Dean Winchester, her Omega would whine and whimper, saddened to be away from him. She had never understood the pull toward him, which had always been there. Since he seemed to not show any sign of it, she always assumed it was one-sided and just a biological instinct she ignored.

The run was making her realize just how tired she was of fighting whatever this was between them. She had never been afraid of Dean Winchester since they met. Right now, however, she was afraid of herself, of her Omega, because she wanted to be caught and had no idea what would happen when he did.

Dean, ever the hunter, knew after the first hunt with Y/N, they were scent-bonded. He never told Sam but wouldn’t be surprised if he knew. Sam was psychic and seemed to read people well. He caught her scent again and followed it. Her arousal became stronger, the vanilla becoming more buttery. The Alpha knew their situation was ideal: no wind and weather mild but for the humidity. He knew he could wait her out, but that meant she would stop simply due to her tiredness, he wanted her to want this just as much as him. His Alpha was a simpering mess every time she was near and he was done. Dean was going to mate her, and then neither of them would have this stupid argument ever again. She would be his Omega and he would get to keep her, forever.

Having hunted with her enough, he knew how she thought. He ran along the river, knowing she’d probably try to hide her scent. Oddly, once he was at the river, her scent didn’t lessen, it seemed stronger. He continued to follow it and after a few hundred yards noticed it weakened. He paused, scenting and tasting the air. He backtracked, thinking she must have done so as well. He was very wrong.

Once he was back at the river, where the scent guided him, he was knocked down to the ground. Instantly recognizing his Omega, he rolled to outmaneuver her but failed. She had him trapped in a headlock. He was getting too old to wrestle like a horny teenager. He was horny and knew his eyes were red. He was holding his Alpha from truly surfacing, worried he would scare her. He was a special Alpha who partially changed when completely in sync with his wolf. He was able to get out of her headlock and saw her.

Y/N was like him.

Her gold irises, beautiful in the moonlight that was making her freckles, somehow, glow. Her fangs had dropped as she encircled him. She had short, black claws in place of her fingernails and multiple tuffs of thin fur matching her Y/C hair on both hands, up her upper arms, and he bet it was along her back some too. Her scent wrapped around him: the woodiness of the sandalwood, the light, floral earthiness of strawberry, and the deep butteriness of the vanilla. The image of a sweet, floral strawberry rose pie on a window sill came to mind. It reminded him of the one Missouri made once, he secretly loved it but denied it when he was a kid. He inhaled his mate’s scent deeply.

Y/N growled at the Alpha. She was not some weak Omega waiting to be caught. No, she decided to trick him and get the jump on him before he did on her. Her plan worked perfectly until he got away. Despite her height advantage over him (being nearly a foot shorter than him), he was very good at wrestling and it was something they tended to do when bored at the bunker. She swiped at him, Alpha’s being quick to heal, his chest was already free of the mark by the time she’d knocked him off his feet and began working to pin him to the ground. He easily flipped them with his Alpha strength as his Alpha surfaced and he shifted as well.

Just like Y/N, Dean’s hands were covered in fur matching his dirty blonde hair that went up the back of his arms and down the back of his neck onto his whole back and down. His fangs dropped and he growled, dominantly, demanding her submission. She repositioned her feet and turned within his grasp onto her front but he kept her wrists in his hands. A wrong move for her as it allowed Dean to bite, without breaking skin, the back of her, pinning her Omega in place. Y/N’s Omega had no choice but to obey, and went pliant in his grip. She closed her eyes and waited. Her breathing came out in heavy pants. He carefully released his bite and leaned down next to her ear, licking the tender spot below and back of her ear causing a shiver to run down her body. Dean growled approvingly.

He nosed along her, placing sloppy kisses along her neck and inhaling at her mating gland. He licked and nipped her mating gland, increasing the scent of her Omega arousal. He softened his grip on her wrists as he continued to tease her mating gland. She whined as he continued.

“You have me,” Y/N’s voice broke with the admission. “Please,” she begged and huffed as she pushed her jean-cladded ass and thighs against his abdomen and pelvis.

He smiled, unseen, and kissed the back of her neck. Shivers ran down her spine each time he did. “Good girl.” She whimpered in response.

“Alpha,” she moaned, squeezing her thighs together.

“Impatient,” he stated, thrusting his leg between her legs. He leaned down next to her ear, breathing heavily. “You are mine, Y/N. I know you’ve felt it.”

She could feel tears flooding her eyes. He did. He did, and her mind celebrated.

He placed several kisses on the back of her back and quickly moved to limit his weight on her. “I’m sorry it took me so long to see, Omega,” he half growled and half whined.

She reached back, grabbed his neck, and turned her head into his face, attempting to nuzzle and comfort him. “I’m sorry…I…gave up,” she whispered, nasally from the tears she wouldn’t let fall.

He sat back, allowing her to roll back over. Her shirt and jeans were covered in dirt and grass stains. Dean figured he was the same but ignored it. It doesn’t matter. Red eyes met gold, silence encompassed them for several long moments as Dean looked over her face. Whatever Dean seemed to be searching for in Y/N’s face, he must have found it because the next thing she knew, he surged forward, kissing her. His arms wrapped around her, his leg returned between her thighs, and she reciprocated—one hand in his hair and the other holding the shirt on his back.

Dean pulled back, panting, gasping for breath. “You’re…you’re mine, Y/N.”

“I am,” she agreed, breathlessly. She whined. “Mate me, Alpha. Please,” she panted. “Please, Dean.” Her eyes searched his face.

“You’ll be mine?”

Tears began to fall down her cheeks. “I’ve always been yours, Dean. I—I—I love you.”

Dean passionately kissed her, mostly a gnashing of teeth and tongues. He slipped one hand between them, unsnapping his jeans and then hers, and pulled hers down. She wiggled to help, lips always touching, as he haphazardly pulled her underwear down in the process to where she had one leg out of her underwear and jeans. Dean smiled at this. She let go of his shirt and worked to help him with her jeans, and then when he leaned back, she followed him to help him with his. She reached in and grabbed his thick Alpha cock. He hissed at her touch and moaned as she pulled him out.

Moaning at the sight of Dean’s gorgeous erection, she laid down, grabbed his shirt with both hands and pulled him on her, wrapping her legs around him. “Fuck me, Alpha,” she demanded growling.

His eyebrows rose in surprise at her assertiveness as he went with her, one hand behind her head, leaning on his elbow as he took himself in hand positioning himself at her entrance. He looked down as he slowly pushed into her slick shiny pussy. Y/N groaned, reveling in the stretch. He touched everywhere inside her channel, and she practically purred at the feel.

Dean grinned, surprised by her sounds, and enjoyed them. “Like that, sweetheart?” His voice was deeper, guttural, and dancing goosebumps along her skin.

“Yes,” she breathed. “Full, so full, oh.”

Dean stilled but Y/N gritted her teeth. “Don’t you stop.”

“Yes ma’am.” He pulled back and thrust hard into her, both moaning in unison. He repeated the motion again and again as he built up a rhythm, both of them groaning in pleasure. Dean watched her writhe on his cock and felt her walls flutter around him. Y/N’s eyes were closed, mouth open panting as she held onto Dean’s biceps, meeting him thrust-for-thrust, over and over and over. Soon, she could feel his enlarging knot teasing her entrance. She tried grinding against him each time he bottomed out, pulling a growl from her when she succeeded

“Knot me,” she begged.

“Hold on, Darlin’,” Dean panted against her open mouth. He thrust harder, forcing his increasing knot in and out of her. Shudder after shudder with each jab of his knot’s partial entering, until his knot reached full size. A handful of thrusts later, he pushed it within her and the pressure against her sweet spot pulled her over the edge. Her walls squeezed around Dean’s knot and he bit into her swollen mating gland, coppery liquid rushing onto his tongue. He growled, feeling spend after spend coat Y/N’s inner walls as she gushed, coating his pelvis and her thighs in her juices, screaming through her orgasm as everything seemed to go dark.

To be continued…Part 3

Part 1

Tag @harmonity-vibes

[plumeriacosmos]

polin a/b/o au where omega penelope is doing everything she can to avoid colin. colin, the most desirable alpha, thinks this is the start of a mating chase, and of course he does so love a challenge.

[somepsychopomp]

Everything Beautiful about the Ocean

Working on an omegaverse HoO AU w/ dark alpha Jason & omega Percy, plus protective alpha Annabeth! Turns out that rereading Mark of Athena is giving me such bad brain rot rn.

I'm playing around with a rough draft atm, I have no idea how long it'll end up being or if I'll keep going but this was a lot of fun to write

Excerpt:

Yes, Annabeth understood perfectly well that in order for their plans to succeed, Greeks and Romans would have to work together. Yes, she knew she’d have to be one of those Greeks and Jason would have to be one of those Romans. Yes, as much as she didn’t want to, she knew she’d have to work with him closely or else their whole world was going to burn. 

But she’d be damned if she let Jason Grace within arm’s reach of Percy Jackson. 

Word count: Approx. 2540

The Argo II was about to reach Camp Jupiter. Below them, the rolling hills of San Francisco sprawled far and wide, looking to Annabeth like a miniature model of a city. 

Even without her sense of smell, the atmosphere on the ship was tense and restless. Piper paced back and forth, practicing her charmspeak in case they had to appease the Romans. Leo stood at the helm with all his gadgets and controls, flying across his expansive console to keep their descent as smooth as possible. 

Annabeth waited at the port side of the ship while Jason stood proud at the bow. Their hope was that the Romans would see their long lost leader, decked in a toga and purple cape, aboard the massive war ship and at least hesitate to attack it. 

As if he could sense her watching him, Jason cast a glance over his shoulder. Annabeth held her ground, meeting his eye with her chin ever so slightly raised. Jason gave no reaction. He turned his attention back to the valley on the horizon. 

She didn’t trust him. He knew she didn’t trust him. 

It wasn’t because Jason was an outsider or a Roman. It wasn’t because he was hauntingly perfect- perpetually ready to help others, confident, strong, and always seeking to do the right thing. 

Or almost always. Annabeth never forgot, and doubted she’d ever be able to forget, the incident from months ago. 

Yes, she understood perfectly well that in order for their plans to succeed, Greeks and Romans would have to work together. Yes, she knew she’d have to be one of those Greeks and Jason would have to be one of those Romans. Yes, as much as she didn’t want to, she knew she’d have to work with him closely or else their whole world was going to burn. 

But she’d be damned if she let Jason Grace within arm’s reach of Percy Jackson. 

Percy. 

Annabeth inhaled sharply, taking in the scent of fresh air. She was so close to getting her best friend back. She cast her gaze over the side of the ship, where she was met with the sight of what was unmistakably Camp Jupiter. 

Jason described the place well enough that Annabeth felt she could recognize most of it. She saw the narrow river cutting through the valley, the Little Tiber. The river terminated in a small lake surrounded by a collection of domed buildings, a coliseum, and other smaller structures dotted in between. That had to be New Rome. Some of its buildings were in ruins, other bolstered fractured domes and there were pit marks in the fields beyond the city. 

She also spotted a walled encampment with guard towers at each corner, its gates open as armored teenagers rushed in their direction. 

They were low enough now that Annabeth could make out individual faces in the crowd directly below them. Kids in togas, along with adult civilians, all craned their necks to gawk at the massive war ship above them. 

Where is he? She wondered. What did they do to him?

Along with a description of Camp Jupiter, Jason also told Annabeth other things about the Roman side of the pantheon. Romans believed that the majority of omega demigods were too weak to survive; they were meek and unsuited to hardship, which was why most were swiftly picked off by monsters before ever learning they were demigods. Or if they lived long enough to reach Lupa, the she-wolf, she’d often make quick work of them as well. 

That was one commonality between the camps, unfortunately. Alpha demigods far outnumbered Camp Half-Blood’s omegas, by about seven to three. But they at least had a sizable omega population. It was just that most Greek demigods, regardless of secondary gender, tended to die young. And Annabeth honestly preferred it that way to the Romans, who seemed more than willing to keep their society alpha-dominant. 

Only a handful of omegas served in the Twelfth Legion, with all of them being medics or messengers or fulfilling some other kind of non-combatant role. 

Percy, according to Jason, was “probably” going to be the first exception in centuries. 

That was another reason why Annabeth didn’t trust Jason. Even knowing Percy was the leader of Camp Half-Blood and a child of the Big Three, Jason’s equal in every way, he seemed so reluctant at the time to tell Annabeth about how omegas were treated at Camp Jupiter. Jason acted almost apologetic, like he was giving Annabeth some bad news. 

He honestly had the gall to doubt that Percy would make it very far here. But the mental image of Percy relegated to a subservient role was not only laughable, it was impossible. Even if he’d had his memories wiped like Jason, and even if Roman culture was as strict as Jason described, Percy had the sea in his veins. He hated being restrained and would never let himself be bossed around or bullied. 

In the depths of the crowd below, Annabeth’s eyes fell on a figure with dark hair and tanned skin. He was dressed in a toga like the other Romans with two others at his side. Despite all the distance between them, it felt like their eyes met. 

I’m coming for you, she thought, almost like a prayer, I’m getting you out of here. 

But first, she was going to have to stuff all her apprehensive alpha pheromones away in order to make peace with the Romans. 

+++

Before he saw Percy Jackson, Jason knew he was near. Even when they were surrounded by a crowd of Romans, many of whom stared at Jason in awe, he could pick out the one scent that wasn’t like any other. The vast majority of Roman demigods were alphas with heavy, musky scents. But there was one scent mixed among all the others that was light and soothing like a sea breeze.

He raised his nose and tried to detect its source, leading the group from the Argo II until he came face to face with two very familiar people. 

Reyna was expressionless as she took in the situation. She stood proud and tall, her hair spilling over her shoulders and her cape fluttering in the wind. But she also looked tired. 

Jason nodded in her direction as Annabeth came to stand at his side. Reyna’s gaze flashed to her and Jason could see the wariness in her eyes. He couldn’t blame her. Not only was Annabeth a stranger and a Greek, she carried the scent of heady musk that marked her as an alpha, mixed with something peppery and sharp. 

Jason was no better, he smelled of ozone and warm resin. 

Then his whole body seized as he saw Percy Jackson come into view. Pictures of the other boy in the Big House did not do him justice. All the stories he heard did nothing to fully capture who he was. Everything Jason thought he knew about Percy was wrong. 

Here in the flesh, with his scent as fresh as it could be, Jason’s vision went hazy for a moment. He smelled something sweet and milky, the telltale sign of a maturing omega. But it was fused with notes of salt that gave way to a fresh sea breeze. 

The thing was, Romans were taught to avoid the ocean. They weren’t a people inclined to seafaring and they feared the unpredictable wrath of Neptune. To many of them, Jason included, the ocean was a symbol of disorder and the unknown. But if Greeks and Romans were something like opposites then Percy Jackson, son of Poseidon, must have embodied everything beautiful about the ocean, including its glittering splendor and its desire to run free. 

Jason could feel himself salivating, an ache spreading in his upper jaw as he fought the urge to drop his fangs. His heart started to beat faster. He swallowed and took a deep breath to keep himself composed. He blinked hard to clear his vision. 

Percy was dressed in a toga like a proper Roman. Like a present waiting for Jason, an omega given in gift to a praetor. 

Then Annabeth surged forward. Without a word, she and Percy embraced as though they were long-lost mates. He nuzzled her hair and Jason swore, he swore, he could hear the faint sound of purring. 

He felt sparks flare up between his fingertips and clenched his hands into fists to hide them. Jason smiled for the crowd and tried to focus on the objective at hand. 

There was plenty to celebrate, after all. He’d come home. And by the looks of it, Camp Jupiter just survived an intense battle with the giants.  

Low tables and couches were brought out into the forum as wind spirits shepherded drinks and plates of food for a feast. A large table and four sofas were set up for the leaders and their parties, which meant Jason, Reyna, Octavian, and Percy all sat in close proximity along with their guests. Annabeth sat close to Percy’s side while Leo and Piper sat between her and Jason. 

Two more demigods that Jason didn’t recognize sat to Percy’s other side, a large boy with dark cropped hair and a smaller girl with bright golden eyes. Percy introduced them as Frank and Hazel, his friends that he’d gone on a quest with to Alaska to recover the camp’s golden eagle. 

As Percy gestured to them, Jason couldn’t help but notice the SPQR tattoo on his arm, plus a trident and a single stripe. Annabeth also noticed it, judging by the way she froze.

He’s already one of us. 

Which meant, at least to his inner alpha, that Percy was already Jason’s. But all that would have to wait for now.

Playing the part of a perfect praetor, Jason did his part to relay his own adventures, including arriving at Camp Half-Blood with no memories of his past and venturing to the Wolf House to free Hera. He was thankful he had Piper and Leo to help fill in all the details because it was truly hard to focus on anything other than the smell of omega in the air. 

A lot of demigods here didn’t bother with scent blockers or patches. Everyone knew nearly everyone else was an alpha and it was seen as a test of fortitude to not wear them. In theory, a properly disciplined Roman soldier wouldn’t need anything to hide their pheromones because they’d be in perfect control of their emotions. Still, Jason knew a lot of campers had secret stashes of scent-neutralizing deodorant. 

Percy didn’t use deodorant, blockers, or patches, though. He didn’t wear a protective leather collar to cover his mating glands the way all other Roman omegas did. He was somehow able to resist cowering among hundreds of intermingling alpha scents and all their pheromones. 

Jason took in that sweet, breezy smell with every breath. He drank in the sight of Percy’s beautiful green eyes. He wanted to run his fingers through that gray lock of hair Percy had at his temple. 

A small part of him wanted to leap across the table, pin down that brave little omega, and bite into his glands with everything he had. He had enough strength to restrain himself, thankfully. That, and he was certain Annabeth would be quick enough to slit his throat before he ever made contact with Percy’s neck. 

How is he doing it? Jason wondered. 

How was Percy Jackson acting like a Roman? An alpha?

+++

After making initial contact with the Romans and winning their temporary trust, Annabeth organized all her worries from greatest to least. 

Gain the Romans’ good will. Scope out their numbers, defenses, and abilities. Get their help. Head east. Somewhere on that list, maybe higher than everything else, was surveying Percy. She’d seen the tattoo on his arm and it made her skin crawl. It wasn’t like Jason, who’d been born Roman and grew up knowing their ways. Seeing that same tattoo on Percy felt wrong. Like he was marked as their property. 

She was at least happy that he wasn’t hurt. He didn’t have any air of distress to him. Far from it; rather, he looked taller, tanner, more strongly built. But he was still familiar and that was what mattered to her the most. He still had his long, windswept hair and his trouble-maker smile. He hadn’t shaken off his omega frame, either. Percy was still lithe with long legs and a narrow, tapered waist. Despite being such an accomplished sword fighter, his hands were still slender, if not covered with the same nicks, old scars, and calluses he had since he was twelve. 

But Annabeth was very perceptive. His hips had filled out a bit, she was certain of it. His chest, too. Percy was a pretty flat-chested omega when she last saw him, even when he wasn’t wearing a sports bra. Not that there was anything wrong with that. He was a male omega, after all. They typically didn’t develop breasts as noticeable as female omegas or alphas. But now that she was looking, there was definitely a gentle curve to his chest. 

He grew a lot, was her conclusion. Percy was stronger, sure, but he also became even more beautiful. It partly served as a painful reminder for how long he’d been missing, that he could change so much in that time. But even though he was stronger now, he was still clearly built for speed and agility. He never was and never will be a beefy meathead like some of the Ares kids back at Camp Half-Blood. Or Frank, if he wasn’t so nice. Or Jason, for that matter. 

Jason had the build of a very traditional swordsman and alpha. He was quite muscular with broad shoulders and strong arms. Looking at the two of them side by side, it was like Jason and Percy were equal and opposites. Greek and Roman. The sea and sky. Alpha and omega. 

Annabeth also noticed how much Jason was staring at her best friend. She did her best not to glare daggers or put out any hostile pheromones. Unlike the Romans, who stunk of pride and power, it was much more common for campers at Camp Half-Blood to wear patches or use blockers out of courtesy. Annabeth scratched at the adhesive patch on the side of her neck. 

Though she never gave a specific reason why, back when the Argo II was under construction, she installed the specialized lock on Percy’s cabin door herself. When Leo asked what she was doing with one of his drills, she simply said that the only omega on board deserved to have a little extra security. 

It made her feel vaguely dirty and sexist, acting like Percy needed more protection than anyone else. Leo was surprised at first but he trusted her judgment. Really, the lock, which was enchanted to resist picking, was meant to keep out only one alpha. 

She was still glad she did it now. She decided before arriving in California that as soon as she found Percy, he was not leaving her sight. Even if it did make her feel even more like a knothead alpha.

[samanddean76]

Title: Chasing Destiny

Ship: J2 | Word Count: 998 | Rating: Explicit

Major Warnings: None Apply

Tags: Alternate Universe - Wolves, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha Jensen Ackles, Omega Jared Padalecki, Anal Sex, Knotting, Chases, Implied Mpreg, Top Jensen Ackles/Bottom Jared Padalecki, Kinktober 2024, Into The Omegaverse Prompt: Midnight Chase

Summary: Jared had challenged his Alpha, and Jensen was more than willing to accept his Omega's bold actions. But he wasn't prepared for what came next.

Written for @intotheomegaverse 's October 24th prompt of Midnight Chase.

Story on AO3.

[marc--chilton]

the way I was about to send an ask about being obsessed with the house omegaverse au. like you’ve thought it about it a lot and I need to hear more. omegaverse is genuinely so intriguing to me and I love the dynamics and behaviors and everything. <3

seeing this message right after i'm like "no takers??" SENT me i want you to know. i'm on a call with a friend and she asked about my cat right when i saw this so i cackled right in her ear. the timing was So Good oh my god.

anyway

the first time the ducklings hear house purr is because of a bad pain day and at first they are so shocked to hear it at all they don't even consider the reasoning. he always claimed to be an alpha (as a joke? true duping? who knows) and yeah alphas can purr but they generally sound very different from omega purring..... which is what house was doing. involuntarily.

the novelty wears off pretty quick though because he's actually more insufferable. their latest patient wasn't getting better, which means house wasn't going home at a decent hour (or at all), wasn't sleeping, eating, which makes everything that much worse. so when they're sent away for another round of tests they scurry right on out.

it's cameron who finds house later. he's still in his office where she was going to deliver the test results. so is wilson. house is still in his chair but he's turned away from his desk, the computer, the whiteboard, into wilson who is either hugging house to his chest or has put him in a headlock, she's not sure. but house is still. no pained trembling, the tension in his shoulders gone slack..... it's almost eerie.

wilson's status isn't a secret, nor is it a badge, because it really is not a big deal to him most of the time. but he is never more thankful for it as he is those times, the moments where the neediest, most guarded man on the planet can't help himself so it's on wilson to help him. which is why he's there now instead of going home like was intended. all it took was one look at his friend to know he was needed even if house wouldn't ask for it.

cameron had only just barely cracked the door when she noticed them. and it hit her; this wasn't just an embrace. the scent of an alpha, intended to soothe, slithered out to greet her. caught off guard, it instinctually rankled her. a gasp, her own scent, something she did caught wilson's attention then and oh. the eyes that snapped to her were dark, the man's posture going from a solid post to a downright protective curl. for a second she thought she might have seen a glint of teeth.

a reflex, obviously. totally unbidden. but she was already scampering off, the strange hindbrain they never evolved out of deciding in a millisecond that even a mere miscommunication of challenge would ruin the night for everyone. house, if anything, had only burrowed even further into that warmth, the comfort, the safety.

[housethemd]

Bets On Babies

(ABO Universe, Omega!House/Alpha!Wilson, established relationship, mpreg (? do you tag a/b/o mpreg, idk) approximately S1, Team POV, snippet style)

~~~

January

It starts when Cameron discovers a prescription bottle she doesn’t recognize in House’s backpack.

She isn’t invading his privacy, not really.

Their patient is improving. Their patient is improving and the team doesn’t know why. House knows why, he administered the mystery treatment, and then proceeded to tell them that the answer is hidden somewhere in his office.

The answer isn’t in his backpack, unfortunately. She does study the label of the bottle she found - she doesn’t recognize the name of the drug.

“Hey Foreman, have you heard of this before? It’s in House’s name.” She asks, tossing the bottle towards the bookshelf where Foreman is seated on the floor combing through each one.

He catches the bottle and examines the label, eyebrows climbing his forehead.

“Yeah, I remember this from my OBGYN rotation. It’s prescribed to omegas in preparation for breeding.” His voice is high pitched, and disbelieving.

Cameron’s mouth falls open. They know that House is an omega, and that he’s married and bonded to Dr. Wilson. She just never thought the two of them would have pups. While she can picture Dr. Wilson as a father, it’s a little harder to see for House.

“Toss it here.” Chase scoffs.

Foreman tosses the bottle to Chase who’s seated at House’s desk going through his computer.

“Yes this is prescribed if an omega is planning on being bred, but it’s also prescribed for Distressed Heat Syndrome. It’s not conception specific, it’s just for general reproductive support.” He explains, tossing the bottle back to Cameron.

“You think it’s more likely House has Distressed Heat Syndrome?” Cameron questions.

“Uh yeah. Can you picture House pregnant? Anyway, House is an omega in his mid-fourties’ who, as far as we are aware, has never pupped. That’s the most common situation for people with Distressed Heat Syndrome.”

“I think I want to stop taking about our boss and what is or is not going on with his reproductive organs.” Foreman jumped in.

Cameron put away the pill bottle, just in time too as a few minutes later House limbed into his office.

He stopped, looking at the mess they’d made before speaking.

“You idiots.” He said with an eye roll.

Climbing onto a chair, he pulled a piece of paper with the answer on it tapped to the ceiling.

April

No one thinks about it again for a while. Not until House announces that he’ll be off the next week on a Friday morning. They aren’t stupid, they know why.

First of all because they can all do math and know that House takes a week off every 13 weeks, a slightly long but still normal heat cycle.

Second of all because they can smell him. Even Cameron who’s a beta can tell his scent is stronger, though she can’t pick up the sweetening of the scent the way Chase, an omega, and Foreman, an alpha, can.

It’s clear House is in preheat. His increased scent, the way he keeps tugging slightly on the collar of his shirt. He’s stretched the neck out from pulling, so now the scar of his bond bite is visible. Dr. Wilson keeps popping in, hovering around in that concerned alpha way.

The three of them are just coming back from running the tests House wanted when they freeze in front of House’s office door.

Wilson is nuzzling against House’s neck and House has his eyes closed and head tilted, a clearly submissive gesture. This isn’t the first time the team has caught a glimpse of House engaging in omega-typical behaviour, so that doesn’t shock them. What does shock them is the words leaving Dr. Wilson’s mouth.

“Can’t wait to breed you. Gonna fill you up with my pup, my pretty omega.”

They back away slowly before House or Wilson sees them, deciding to give the pair a few minutes.

“Still think that prescription was for Distressed Heat Syndrome?” Cameron quips.

“Lots of couples enjoy the fantasy of breeding without planning on actually doing it. It’s why heats and ruts exist, for breeding. It’s a healthy expression of sexuality especially for a bonded couple like House and Wilson. You know if House is in preheat than Wilson’s in prerut.” Chase lectured.

It was true. Bonded couples heats and ruts synced because it meant the greatest chance of conception if both partners where at peak fertility at the same time.

By the time they returned to the office, Wilson had left and House was sitting at his desk looking at something on his computer. The only indication that anything uncouth had taken place was the heavy scent of omega and alpha pheromones in the air.

July

The summer sun shines through the glass into House’s office. Cameron is rooting around his mess of a desk, trying to get his paperwork in order. They don’t have a case right now as House is off on heat leave, so she has nothing better to do. God knows House won’t do his own paperwork.

As she gathers up piles of papers she unearths a book. It’s titled “Fertility and the Mature Omega.” She stares at it for a moment, before calling in the rest of the team.

When Chase and Foreman arrive and she holds up the book Foreman rolls his eyes. Chase grabs the book out of her hands. She places her hands on her hips as Chase flips through the book, convinced she’s found proof that House and Wilson are trying for a pup.

“This book covers conception yes, but it also covers menopause.” Chase thrusts the book back her.

“House is only 45, most omegas don’t hit menopause until 55. You really think it’s that part of the book he’s looking at?” Cameron questioned indignantly.

“I think it’s far more likely that Gregory House is going through menopause than trying to get pregnant. Is he 10 years younger than the average menopausal omega? Yes. But we already figured out he probably has Distressed Heat Syndrome and the complications from that often result in early menopause.”

What Chase was saying was true. DHS caused soaring fevers, anxiety, pain during intercourse. In extreme cases it even caused impotence, leaving the omega with no choice but to ride out the heat without any of the relief sex provides.

“If he is going through menopause it would mean missing heats. House hasn’t missed a heat.” Cameron countered.

“The first sign of menopause can be shorter, less intense heats. Yes he comes in, we can tell he’s in preheat, and he takes a week off. Doesn’t mean he’s actually in heat the entire time.” Chase argued.

There was no settling the disagreement. Foreman wouldn’t give an opinion to tip the scale, so all the could do was wait to see what happened. Either House would start missing heats, or he’d announce he was pregnant.

October

House should have taken heat leave a week ago at least. He’d had no signs of preheat either. Wilson seemed to be coming around more often, and House seemed down.

“I told you it was menopause.” Chase sing-songed one day after Wilson and House went to the cafeteria together.

“He could be pregnant.” Cameron insisted.

“You don’t think he would have said something by now? He’d be 14 weeks along.” Chase countered.

“Some people choose to keep their pregnancies to themselves for as long as they can. He might not want the attention that comes from being a pregnant omega.”

Omega doctors were relatively rare. A pregnant omega doctor would garner a lot of attention. Especially if that pregnant omega doctor was Gregory House.

“He’s seemed down, and menopause can cause depression.” Chase said.

“Pregnancy can cause fatigue.” Cameron countered.

“We could test him.” Foreman said from his seat in the corner.

Foreman had thus far been avoiding being a part of his colleagues speculation about their bosses breeding cycles but he was getting tired of listening to it. A pregnancy test would confirm either Cameron or Chase’s theory.

“How do you suggest we do that? Do you know how hard it is to steal someone’s blood?” Chase exclaimed.

“We could steal his urine.” Cameron said.

“My thoughts exactly.” Foreman agreed.

Chase looked back and forth between the two team members.

“How exactly do you think we are going to steal House’s urine?” Chase said, bewildered.

In the end they came up with a plan to stop the drain and flushing mechanism on the urinal in the morgue mens room. It was almost never used, and House wouldn’t be able to tell that it wasn’t draining or flushing until it was to late. The trickiest part was getting him to the morgue at the right time, but after paying a janitor to wax the floor right outside the DDx room in the middle of their DDx they were able to get House to relocate to the morgue (it helped that the morgue was one of House’s favorite places to hold a DDx.)

Cameron purchased a cup of coffee for each of them from the canteen on the way down, and in House’s she put a fast acting diuretic. She made sure the one she chose wouldn’t do any damage if House was pregnant. Sure enough, part way through the DDx House wandered into the bathroom to yell demands at them from there. After they’d decided on a course of treatment for the patient House limped off and the three fellows played rock paper scissors to determine who had to retrieve the sample. Chase lost.

Foreman decided he’d be the one to run the test, as he wasn’t a part of Cameron and Chase’s debate. They sat on the opposite side of the room as Foreman waited the allotted three minutes. The timer went off and he looked down at the test before proclaiming,

“Well, it looks like Cameron wins. House is pregnant.”

They all scurried up to House’s office, where they found House in his recliner and Wilson sitting in House’s desk chair next to him.

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” House asked, eyeing the three of them.

They were all silent for a few beats before Cameron exclaimed, “You’re pregnant!”

“What? No. I hadn’t noticed. Though now that I think about it, it does explain the six weeks of vomiting every morning, way I’m tired all the time, and why my jeans stopped fitting.” House said sarcastically.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Chase asked.

“I knew you’d figure it out eventually.”

[fancytacopaper]

I think you'd like this story: "Bound by Fates (ABO PJO AU) " by BlueDreams1998 on Wattpad https://www.wattpad.com/story/376573311?utm_source=android&utm_medium=com.tumblr&utm_content=share_writing&wp_page=create&wp_uname=BlueDreams1998

I've recently started a new PJO ABO AU story . For more information, click on the link.

[yonemurishiroku]

There’s only one Percabeth fanfic I find delightful and that’s where Percy is pregnant.

[many-gay-magpies]

fuck now i wanna write a season 2 au where boyd joins scott's pack, OR instead of running off looking for another pack at the end of the season, boyd convinces erica and they BOTH join scott. idk.

[mythology-freak]

I swear to the gods omega Percy is the best.

[spn-fanfic-reblog-writes]

@destielvalentinesexchange

My story posted! Yay!

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 3,896

Summary:

“Thank you for the invite, Pack Alpha,” Dean politely spoke.

“Enchanted to meet you, beautiful Omega Winchester.” Castiel paused, staring into Dean’s moss green eyes….

They fell silent looking into each other’s eyes. Luckily, Dean was the last person for Castiel to meet.

“You are beautiful, Dean.”

Dean could feel his face heat up and spread down to his neck. Demurely he replied, “Thank you.”

“Of course.” Cas placed a gentle kiss on Dean’s knuckles as he stared again.

[therapeutic-dose]

Tbh I am shocked I’ve never posted omegaverse. I have a one shot half done. Which I will finish one day. It’s just surprising that I haven’t had any posted already

[yanderenightmare]

♡ TW: nsfw, noncon/dubcon, yandere, captive reader, omegaverse, forced bonding is implied, subjugation, some type of sexism, soft dom, but extremely patronizing

♡ fem reader

You offer to go down on him for the first time since he claimed you for himself, and his heart swells with all sorts of bliss—shock and awe, love and pride—utterly overjoyed at the pretty sight of you, so pliant and on your knees, acting like a proper Omega for a change—his cutest little mate. It’s so adorable he ought to take pictures, yet he doesn’t want to miss a thing or spoil the mood—after all, you always get so embarrassed when he brings the camera out.

So he settles for just watching—his adoring eyes resting on you, admiring how you struggle to fit all of him inside your mouth, thinking it’s the just cutest and sweetest how you try so hard for him. Bless whatever brought this new change of behavior on. He can’t be grateful enough.

It was only a couple of days ago when you’d still bite and claw and run away from him at every turn, growling and snarling like a rabid wildling and not the sweet Omega he knew you could be with the proper love and care. Maybe it’s just that—has his love for you finally tamed you? Oh, he couldn’t be more pleased if that’s it.

Look at you… trying your very best. He didn’t mind if you could only fit half of him—just seeing you try to take it all made him more than happy. The way your pink tongue slides along his veins—all teasingly and ticklish—makes him smile while looking down at you. Petting your head in smooth, encouraging strokes—reminding you to breathe every now and again.

He even pinches your cheek when you cough, crooning, “Careful now, there’s no need to rush, baby—take it slow.”

You curse him from where you kneel at his feet, trying to get it over with quickly. Despite your struggles, he seems pleased, and you think you might have managed to get yourself off the hook. That is… until he wraps his cock with one of his big hands and pulls it away from you. 

“I think that’s enough for now,” he says in his best attempt at sounding suave by nature, and yet, as you look up at him, you see it plain as day.

It makes your guts fold—the eagerness that encompasses him as he looks down at you with kind eyes and a smile—not completely able to hide the frenzy behind it.

No, please, you sulk inwardly—your clit is so sensitive from yesterday, you think you might die if he toys with it again today. You almost indulge the urge to scoot back, attempt to crawl away, and hide in false hope. But you know, chasing you around would just serve as kindling to his inner animal—he would take it as a game, hunting and pinning you down only to lick you clean like a dug-up bone.

You shudder at the thought and almost beg him to allow you to continue, almost insist you can do better, but all you manage is to bite your tongue and cry instead.

“You did so good, baby, don’t pout,” he coos, cradling your face and lifting it up to let him kiss it silly—chastely yet excessively—quick pecks all over, the same way you’d kiss something that’s just too cute for its own good.

It’s his way of comforting you, you suppose, or it might just be him poking fun. You can never really tell with him—if his coddling is all some act or something even more unsettling. But you suppose it doesn’t really matter either.

“Come here, baby, and I’ll do the rest, okay?” he asks, and yet it isn’t a question as he hauls you up off the floor and repositions you as he sees fit—on your back, belly-up beneath him.

His alpha pheromones are quick to overwhelm you, thick and suffocating, pouring over you in waves, drenching you in sweat and something else—something that makes everything sensitive.

The former fight you had when you were still independent has all but left you completely—siphoned from your being every day that’s passed and left you soft like the rest of those Omegas you vowed you’d never become—weak-willed with a body even more so. You feel like a stuffed animal at this point, full of cloudy cotton with a broken voice device that only knows how to squeak when played with.

He takes you beneath the knees and folds them down neatly by your head—one large hand taking both your summoned ankles in a single grip—and you’re locked in, unable to do much else other than pant—kept from breathing too much by the weight of your own thighs pressing down on you.

This had been what you were trying to avoid—this awful position which he seems to love just as much as you dread.

He whistles in awe at the pretty sight of you—all squished beneath him like that—face flushed, and your bloated lips parted with cute little draws of breath—tits bunched together, glossed in a sheen of sweat and heaving with the labored rise and fall of your chest—and that adorable cunt, wet and puffy, swollen up like a pink pillow eagerly waiting for him, a soft bed for his cock and a perfectly bite-sized slice of his favorite cake. His gut rumbles, and his mouth soaks. To think he hasn’t had a single taste all day—he’s beyond starving.

You squirm under him, and he chuckles again, this time breathily—showing more of the unsightly animal with the low growl that seeps into his voice, “Such a pretty girl…” It’s unclear if he’s talking to you as his inkwell eyes are set on something else. He sags forward, back hunched as he bows down to face the object of his desire with only a hair’s breadth of separation—breaths thick, puffed hot against you—canines bared in an eerie smile. “So shy…”

He ignores your wiggling completely—pinching the chunk of cunt where your clit hides, making it peak forth like a little button to press, and his grin broadens.

“There it is,” he licks his teeth with a raspy sigh—eyes wide and deadset. “My beauty.”

You squirm a little more, even though you know you’re not going anywhere until he’s satisfied. He doesn’t waste much more time—not allowing you to prepare. Keeping the pinch, he opens his mouth wide and takes the chub with eyes closed, tongue flattened and wide, cloaking your exposed clit with thirst. “Mmgh…”

He always gets like this—cute-aggressive and pussy-whipped. It’s as if he and your cunt have their own private affair, the way he completely ignores you. No, that’s not entirely fair—he gets like that when feeding you his tongue as well, but you suppose it’s easier making out with your pussy as it doesn’t need to get up for air. 

Neither does he, it seems.

He groans loudly and releases your clit from his pinching grip—but keeps his whole mouth on you—lips, tongue, and all—nose and chin too, buried there while his hand moves down to slip three digits inside, filling you up with little regard to the stretch.

Your breath flares and shudders with a whimpery moan, toes curling along with his fingers, biting your lip at how he hooks them right into the soft spot of your gummy walls, then fingerbangs you fast, right down to the knuckles each time.

“Fuck, baby—so, so good, always so good,” he slurs out into you, tongue otherwise too engaged to bother sounding coherent, yet you understand nonetheless, even though you can never really get used to it—how utterly unashamed he is. “Come on, baby, cum f’mo—cum on my face—” he all but happily begs, tongue out, slurping your slit brazenly.

He’s not a very classic Alpha—how he worships you on his hands and knees with a throat full of plead and praise. He doesn’t even touch himself—cock left hung and bobbing against the bedsheets, hard and strung up with a net of veins, pilling pearls of pre that all go to waste—too busy with you. 

It’s stupid how you’re the one who ends up feeling ignored as the unwanted and overwhelming pleasure manhandles you into submission.

“Cum, baby, give it to me.”

You mewl as his tongue draws something out from within you, making your clit blare and thrum with your heartbeat. You struggle to enjoy it, you always do, feeling forced to surrender, and yet the more you try and deny it, the firmer his hold gets, relentless as he sends you right over the edge. You yelp and seize up once it takes you—clenching tightly around his digits as they unknot your insides, turning you into utter putty in his palm. 

And even then, he doesn’t stop—as if he doesn’t know how—sighing with elation as you quake on his tongue. That crooked smile on his face, nothing short of predatory and vile as he maintains the motion of his fingers, moaning in turn at your cute spasming and all the wordless babble that leaves your lips as you shake your head, crying for him to leave it alone. “Plea’ no more—stop, too much—”

He just chuckles against you—you really are too cute for your own good. Silly little Omega, don’t you know what your pheromones do to him? But okay, fine, since you asked nicely. He gives the slit one last thorough lick before wiping his smile while sitting up.

You haven’t even started coming down when he dabs the weight of his shaft upon the sensitivity, cooing at the lewd little plaps it makes, all slick as he slides the length between your flustered pussylips���fucking through the fat of the mound, running over your full clit, again and again, while listening to you squeak more nothings.

He only croons, “Yeah, I know you like that, baby—this pretty pussy of yours just loves my attention, doesn’t it?" His eyes seem to glow with something sickly, his voice thin, just shy of unhinged. "Always so cute, I could die.”

He can’t get over it—you’re too adorable like this. Watching you pleasure him was a welcome surprise, but ultimately, this is how he always wants you—flipped and pinned with your cunt exposed to his every wish—his favorite toy that never disappoints.

“Your pretty pussy’s always such a crybaby, y’know that? Look how it weeps f’mo—so needy to get stuffed. I bet you want my knot, huh?” he keeps mumbling while using his cock to play with your overworked cunt without yet entering it. “Alright, baby—don’t worry—I’ll give it to you,” he rasps, drooling.

You can’t keep from whimpering when the bed jostles, accounting for his repositioning as he moves to mount you with his feet planted down flat on the bed. Your ankles are pinned passed your head at this point, tipping your cunt up higher than your head.

“Yeah—I’ll give you what you want.” His voice darkens, and so does the look in his eyes—soaked in something you don’t like—something wild and downright terrifying. “And I’ll give it to you good.”

You almost protest, but you know there’s no getting through to him—not with that expression. You hate Alphas, you hate him, and you really hate this awful pose—this mating-press pile-driving overkill where he always bullies into the backroom of your cunt, insisting on fucking your cervix as he digs his cockhead right at the mouth of your womb, knotting you and filling you up with the full worth of his load. It never fails to make you feel utterly wrecked and bedridden in the morning.

But he doesn’t care about that. You have no places you’re supposed to be anyway—nowhere aside from right here, in his bed, where you belong—his sweet Omega bride who’s going to give him lots of pups.

He lines himself up, pressing his head past the ring—watching it swallow around him and biting his lip at the sight. “Look at it, baby—look as I stuff that perfect pussy all the way up—”

He sinks in slowly, revering your cunt for every inch you receive—watching it in awe as it takes the entirety of his length right down to the base. It’s like a magic trick how it all disappears—you’re so tiny, and yet you’re built for this, to take every part of him in, hugging his shaft with velvet heat, milking him as he kneads the spot inside you that always makes you cry out so good for him.

“Yes, baby—that’s my girl—take it all,” he coos, all but sitting on your ass with his cock down your cunt. “It’s like your pussy’s made for me, isn’t it? Perfectly tight, perfectly deep, perfectly wet and chunky to feel like I’m fucking heaven itself—”

You feel no different from a toy when he does this—a squeaky toy manufactured for a Chihuahua puppy, yet mistakenly given to a full-grown Rottweiler. He straight dogs your cunt through several peaks—so soaked now that it fossettes down both the slope of your belly and the cliff of your spine. And still, he keeps going, rambling on like usual—all words that fail to reach you.

You’re so lightheaded you’re on the brink of passing out—overheating and out of strength, numb and tingly, beyond happy when you finally feel his knot swell within, propping you to take his seed. 

He keels over—his thighs pressed down tightly atop yours—panting above you—eyes half-mast and glazed, almost crying in bliss while feeding you his cum, knowing it's flooding your womb, breeding you full of warmth and love.

“Yes, every drop, baby—it’s all yours.” He keeps a thumb rubbing over your clit as he croons. Voice beyond lovesick, “Let’s make too many pups to count.”

♡ BNHA – Deku, Kirishima, Hawks, Natsuo, Mirio ♡ JJK – Gojo, Geto ♡ HQ – Kuro, Miya twins ♡ BLLK – Nagi, Bachira ♡ DS – Doma ♡ WB – Umemiya, Togame

♡ FEM x M INSERT masterlist ♡ GN x M INSERT masterlist

[samanddean76]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Supernatural (TV 2005) Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Castiel/Jimmy Novak/Dean Winchester Characters: Dean Winchester, Castiel (Supernatural), Jimmy Novak (Supernatural) Additional Tags: Alternate Universe, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, A/B/O, Omega Dean Winchester, Alpha Castiel (Supernatural), Alpha Jimmy Novak (Supernatural), Alpha/Alpha/Omega, Chases, Mating Bites, Scenting, Secretary Dean Winchester, Workplace Boss Castiel (Supernatural), Workplace Boss Jimmy Novak, References to Knotting, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Castiel and Jimmy Novak are Twins (Supernatural) Summary:

Omega Dean is a hard-working assistant for his twin Alpha bosses, Castiel and Jimmy Novak. At their request he stays late one night even though his heat is almost upon him. Knowing exactly where this will lead...

@spnkinkevents @spnrareships

[marc--chilton]

hihihihihi i hope non-hear-me-out asks are allowed :)

you mentioned pre-rut BULK. does house appreciate this on wilson? or is he like "ew you're muscley/fat now". does wilson get self-conscious about it, is he like "ugh i'm so fat looking :(" ? (angsty wilson will forever abide in my heart. i love that sad little dude, and i want him even Sadder and more Disparaged and Desolate sometimes) is chase rude to alphas about this phase in their cycle, because imo that's in-character man has a judgemental/fatphobic streak

is there an omegan equivalent? like. presumably in a heat there's not much time for adequate nutrition, so do they also tend to put on weight right before, or do they just hold onto what they already have more, or do they just get really skinny every three-four months?

- 🎸

oh non hear me out asks are cool too for sure

house always thinks that wilson's the hottest piece of ass no matter what. he teases him for bulking (while coincidentally also looking as though he wants to eat him) because he knows that wilson can get crabby about it sometimes solely because he has a bad habit of underestimating how much he puts on so he'll end the day in too-tight clothes or replacement scrubs to save himself the risk of ripping something or popping a button. he used to be more self conscious about it but now that he's older and has gone through twink death, he's more settled in his skin. it mostly just aggravates him for being inconvenient but it also gets him some more positive attention so it works out.

chase is a cute guy so he probably has been approached by bigger alphas with rut-fogged brains, too, so on top of his judgy fatphobia, he's definitely got the hardest time treating alphas going into rut, thinking of them with all the bad stereotypes -- excitable, horny, stupid, beefy jackasses. he's probably gotten in trouble for it before

omegas in heat eat very very little as a side effect of the cycle with their diets at the height of it mostly just being water and snack foods sometimes supplemented with sweets as more filling foods make them sick. their appetite wanes, too, so some refuse to eat even the safe foods provided to them. the food issues arise just before the peak of their heat (around the time they'd be excused from work to go on heat-leave) so by the time the worst of it passes and they can eat without nausea, omegas tend to look pretty ragged because of it -- and other reasons, obviously

[soaps-mohawk]

Cherry Red, Crimson Blood

Chapter 34: The Whole Truth

Summary: In life, we will be confronted with difficult choices. Sometimes you won't know you've made the wrong choice until it's too late

Pairing: Poly 141 x reader

Word Count: 12,900 words

Warnings: Dead dove: do not eat, Angst, graphic violence and torture, mentions of predatory behavior towards a minor, Phillip Graves is a major creep, lots blood and injuries, kidnapping and its aftermath, hostage situations, anxiety and panic attacks, language, very explicitly described torture, ‘mega gets hit a lot, choking, biting, ‘mega gets stabbed with an ice pick, author can’t write COD missions, vomiting, lots of heavy emotions, detailed descriptions of pain, guns, background character dies on screen, descriptions of guilt and grief, lots of POV changes, some descriptive language of gore and blood at the end, rehashing of ‘mega’s injuries from the last chapter, a lot of angst and very heavy content, Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, Alternate Universe

A/N: This chapter deals with some pretty heavy content. Please, please, please read and heed the warnings. I have included content warnings for the more graphic parts before they happen, so if you don't want to read those, you can skip ahead to the next part. I suggest taking breaks if you need to, read it in installments if necessary. And I cannot stress it enough, please heed the warnings.

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

MASTERLIST | <- Previous | Next ->

“Hi darlin’.” His grin widens like he’s happy to see you. “Been a long time.” 

You squeeze your eyes shut for a moment, your brain still sluggish. You feel sick as you try to process, try to figure out why and how. You try to move your arms again, but your wrists are stuck, hands burning as you pull. You desperately want them free, desperately need them free. 

“Easy,” Phil says, putting his hands on yours, pushing them flat against the arms of the chair. They’re warm and calloused, the same hand that had been on your face a few moments ago. “You’re gonna hurt yourself. More than you already have been.” He lifts your left leg, making you groan quietly as a deep ache throbs down to your foot and up to your hip. 

Running. A gunshot. Pain.

“He had strict orders not to harm you.” Phil says, adjusting the bandage wrapped around your calf. “Don’t worry. We got you all fixed up.” He sets your leg back down gingerly, his touch lingering for a moment before he looks back up at you. 

“Why?” You croak out, trying to make sense of what happened. 

Corporal McKinney broke into the barracks and chased you into the woods. He shot you and drugged you and now you’re here, restrained in a chair staring at a man you haven’t seen for years. A man who was once your dad’s best friend. 

“A lot has happened since we saw each other last.” He says, pushing himself to stand. “I left the Marines after a few years, formed my own group of military contractors. Invited your dad to join, but you know how he is. All honor and duty and serving the country. Of course, you haven’t seen him in quite a while, have you?” 

You stare up at him, starting to get scared. You never liked Phil. There was always something about him that put you off. He always stared too long, always sat too close to you. He always greeted you with a hug that lasted too long, squeezing you too tightly against him. He was sweet on you in a way he wasn’t with anyone else. He could be intense, brash and almost downright rude sometimes. He was a firm believer in traditional packs too, even if he never spoke about his own pack, his own omega. He had to have one, if he was as dedicated as he said. 

He was far too much like your father. 

Phil was always kinder to you, though. Softer. Not quite as callous and bellicose as your father in public. He was polite, always happy to lend a hand, always glad to roughhouse with your brothers to get their energy out. You saw the way your mother looked at him though. Perhaps her apprehension bled into you, those dormant omega instincts picking up on something she was projecting. 

He made you uncomfortable, and she knew it. 

What could an omega do, though, in a world where they don’t have opinions, they can’t argue, they can’t disagree. Your mother never said anything because in the world your family existed in, the world Phil existed in, she couldn’t. 

“He was so angry when he called.” Phil continues, staring down at you. “Ranting and raving about how his oldest daughter betrayed him by presenting as an omega. He couldn’t stand having such a useless child in his perfect pack.” You flinch at his words, even though you heard your father spew those very words after your presentation firsthand. 

“He called you?” You ask, the pieces starting to come together as your brain finally snaps fully into awareness. You knew he called someone, but you hadn’t thought it would ever be Phil. 

“Of course.” Phil chuckles. “We were good friends, pals, buddies. He knew I could help him.” A shiver runs down your spine. You know what he’s going to say next. “So I did. I have some contacts in some high places, people who owe me favors. So I made some calls, pulled some strings, got you into FIOT immediately, with some strings attached of course.” He leans down so you’re almost face to face. “I wanted you. They put a note in your file. You wouldn’t be placed in the registry when you were old enough, you would go to me and my pack.” 

Bile churns in your stomach as you process his words. It all makes sense now. The stares, the hugs, the closeness with your father, your rapid enrollment in an institute that can take weeks to process applications. It was all so you could be his. Something he’s wanted from early on. 

“You would have been mine,” He pushes himself up straight again, starting to pace back and forth in front of you. “If the fucking CIA hadn’t gotten involved!” You flinch as his voice raises, the frustration starting to darken his scent. “They froze your file, made the claim null and void. All for what, their little initiative that never really existed in the first place?” He huffs out a laugh, a smirk tilting his lips. “Small world, though. Who knew we’d be seeing each other again after so long.” 

He steps closer, looking down at you. You hold his gaze, suddenly feeling afraid. Even though you know him, even though you spent a good part of your childhood around him, you’re afraid of him right now. Your mind starts to revert back, the urge to lower your eyes, break eye contact like you’re supposed to flashing through your mind. 

Don’t stare alphas in the eyes. They’ll take that as a challenge. It’s not your job to challenge them. Your job is to be subservient. 

You would have been subservient to him if the CIA hadn’t gotten involved. You would have been under his control, bowing to him and his will. You’d have pups by now, at least one. He’d always talked about having a big pack with lots of pups someday, always glancing at you when he said it. 

You’re going to vomit all over him. 

It’s not just the truth that scares you, though. You’re being held captive here. That thought has registered in your mind now, the reality settling in as you get over the shock of the last few minutes. Corporal McKinney kidnapped you from base, and now you’re restrained in a chair surrounded by unknown alphas. Phil isn’t going to help you, take pity on you. He’s not here to be nice, to have a little chat and catch up on life.

That possibly ended as soon as he was denied what he wanted. 

His hand cups your chin, holding your face up as he looks down at you. His thumb is rough as it strokes your jaw, a tickling feeling starting in the back of your mind again. There’s an almost bittersweet look in his eyes as he holds your gaze. You refuse to lower it, refuse to give him that satisfaction. “You’ve grown up a lot.” He says, his hand sliding down your neck to the collar of your shirt. “You always were cute, though. I knew early on you were going to be an omega. You were far too...calm and compliant compared to your brothers. Always so polite and eager to please. You can tell if you pay attention, you know. Those dormant instincts start to show themselves long before presentation.” 

His hand pulls your collar to the side, revealing your mark. His eyes harden as he stares at it, his lips turning down into a frown. A shiver runs down your spine as the darkness in his scent intensifies. He’s not holding you hostage just to tell you about what could have been, what direction your life might have taken. He’s here for a reason, and you know your pack is involved. Something has happened, something behind the scenes, something John was looking into. 

“What’s going on?” You ask as he releases your collar, taking a step back. 

“Well, you’re being held hostage.” He says, like it isn’t already obvious. “You’re...shall we say...leverage to ensure your pack follows orders.” 

You blink at him. You haven’t heard from or spoken to your pack in weeks. You should be relieved that they’re apparently still alive, but what if you had been right and they don’t want you anymore? Why would they take you if your pack has abandoned you? Or did they take you to ensure they wouldn’t...

“Laswell stuck her nose somewhere it shouldn’t have been.” Phil says, crossing his arms. “It’s only so long before your pack finds out. Let’s just say...they’re not going to be happy about it. So, to ensure they don’t do something impulsive and reckless as they are known to do, you’re going to play hostage.” 

You gulp as you stare up at him, suddenly feeling very afraid. Your scent spikes in the air, clouding it with the bitter scent of anxiety. It was the plan all along. You knew it even if you hadn’t been told outright. Deep down you’ve always known it wasn’t about strengthening packs. It wasn’t about studying how an omega would increase or decrease the efficiency of military packs. With the events of the last few months, the idea had started to form in your mind. You know you weren’t alone in those thoughts. John and Simon were digging into the cameras for a reason. They were put up for a reason. 

It was always about control.

That was the point of the initiative. That was why they put cameras up, that was why General Shepherd was so invested in the state of your pack and if you had been mated. He needed to ensure you were close enough to them so if something happened that wasn’t supposed to, you could be used against them. 

You’re nothing more than leverage. 

Your scent spikes in the air, clouding the room as reality sinks into you. Something happened that caused this. Something called your pack away to isolate you, to leave you vulnerable. They wanted you alone as a contingency. 

Something did happen. 

Now you’re here, being held captive by a man you used to know, a man who could have been your alpha had things not played out the way they did. The thought has your stomach churning. How far will they go? How far will Phil take things? Could he be merciful because of your history? Or will his ruined plan make him more ruthless? 

You’ll be punished for something you can’t control. 

Phil makes a soft sound as he looks at you, shaking with fear in the chair. “Don’t be scared. As long as your pack does as they’re told, I won’t have to hurt you.” He turns the light back to face you, nearly blinding you. “Now, smile for the camera.” 

They’re safe. 

It had been close. A rough position to be in, but they managed it. He never doubted them and their abilities, but four against nearly fifty with no backup were not good odds. He’s been in tighter places before, and while he had his doubts, he is grateful Johnny and Simon were sent in when they were. Even if it was a bit suspicious.

“All accounted for.” John says as he sinks down onto one of the jump seats next to Kyle. 

They’re all battered and bruised from their final fight. He’s ready to get home, ready to get back to you. From the sound of it, things were not going well, according to Johnny and Simon. He has a lot to make up for, a lot of apologies to make. 

“Fucking Russian PMCs.” He says, speaking to Kate over the comms. “It’s not a coincidence Kate.” 

Kate lets out a sigh that crackles through the comm. “No, it’s not. My team and I came across some information while we were digging into the cameras.” 

“What information?” He asks slowly and carefully. He doesn’t like being kept in the dark, especially when it comes to his pack. Especially when it comes to you. 

“Not just information on the initiative, but information on General Shepherd.” 

“What information?” He asks again, slower this time as Johnny and Simon move in closer. 

“Shepherd was the one that sold those weapons to AQ and the Russians.” 

John looks at the other three members of his team. He knew something was wrong, something was off about the way Shepherd had acted while informing them about this mission. “He wanted those missiles found and destroyed so he could cover his own ass.” He says, his stomach starting to twist. He doesn’t like the way this is going. 

“But we found out the truth before you could find all the missiles.” Kate continues. “He sent you on a wild goose chase to give himself a chance to escape.” 

John’s hand tightens into a fist. “Where is he now?” 

“He’s gone dark. Totally off radar.” 

John pushes himself up to stand, the adrenaline pumping again. “I’m going to find that bastard-” 

“John.” Kate says, cutting him off. “There’s something else.” 

The twisting in his stomach intensifies. There’s a bad feeling tickling in the back of his mind. He doesn’t want to entertain the dark thoughts that are brewing. “What?” 

“They took your omega.” 

His stomach clenches, his breath catching in his lungs. The other three shift on their feet, all of them stepping closer. The scent in the plane thickens, anger and confusion mixing into a toxic cocktail. He hopes he heard that wrong, that there was some kind of interference in the connection and his brain made up the words he missed. “Repeat that.” 

“They took your omega.” Kate says again.

He lets out a long breath, his muscles tensing. He’s had a bad feeling tickling in the back of his mind for the last few days. Something was wrong, something was off. He should have known it was all a ruse. Why would AQ and the Russians store a missile in any of the places they had been sent to in the last week? It hadn’t made sense, and he had wanted to voice his doubts, but the consequences of a missile being launched because they decided not to look in one place was greater than his own perceived doubts. 

They had been right though. 

Of course it had all been a plan. Of course there had been something fishy about it. He’s hardly ever wrong. He’s been praised on his instincts on the field and off. He should have known. Pulling Simon and Johnny when they did should have been enough evidence, even if they had been needed in the end. 

“You’re positive?” He knows she is. There’s no mistaking something like that, there’s no doubting it. 

“There’s a video.” Kate says, John’s stomach dropping. “I’m sending it to you now.” 

John pulls out his phone, his fingers white as he holds it up. He’s angry, beyond angry. If they’ve laid a hand on you...if you’ve been hurt because of his own failings, his own inability to see the truth...

He clicks on the video when it comes in, a familiar face popping up on screen. “Hi boys. Been a while.” 

“Fucking Graves.” Johnny growls, his hands closing into fists in anger. 

“I have a little something of yours I think you might be interested in.” He turns the camera around, your face popping up on screen. You’re restrained in a chair, wrists red from the zip ties, but there’s a glare on your face, looking as mean and threatening as you can. There’s a bruise on your cheek and what looks like a healing cut on your lip. Someone hit you. 

“Smile for the camera.” Graves says, a bit too cheerfully. 

You don’t smile, your glare sharpening as the camera gets closer to your face. There’s still fight left in you. Whatever has happened hasn’t been too bad. Yet. 

“Let’s make this simple.” Graves says. “You stay away from Shepherd, and I won’t have to hurt this pretty little face. She is pretty, isn’t she?” 

You shift in the chair, your leg lifting before you kick outward. 

“Ow, you little bitch.” The camera jostles for a moment before it’s straightened back up, a hand shooting out to wrap around your throat. There’s no sign of any struggle, the glare still prominent on your face. “Feisty thing. Gotta keep up with those wild boys somehow.” 

The hand tilts your face just slightly, showing the mark on your neck. It is you, not that John doubted that from the beginning. It may have been almost two months, but he wouldn’t forget your face that easily. 

“Like I said,” Graves continues. “Follow your orders and she’ll be released unharmed.” 

The screen goes dark and John resists the urge to throw his phone. He shoves it back into his pocket, turning towards the wall of the plane. He throws his fist against the metal as hard as he can. It hurts, but he can barely feel it over the rage burning hot in him. 

“Fucking Shepherd!” He shouts, rearing back to throw his hand against the wall again.

Graves has his omega. Graves has his omega and now you’re being used as leverage. They’re all being played like puppets. 

A hand catches his fist before he can punch the wall again, easing him back. “Easy.” Kyle says, trying to soothe him as best he can. “We have proof of life, we know that she’s alright for now.” 

“For now.” He growls, looking around at the members of his team. “But for how long?” 

“They knew we’d go after Shepherd as soon as we learned the truth.” Simon says. “This has been in the plans for a long time.”

“They’re trying to get us to make a choice. Focus on getting our omega back while letting Shepherd escape, or go after Shepherd and let our omega be tortured.” Kyle says. 

“Those fuckin’ wankstains.” Johnny says, shifting on his feet. He’s angry, the bitter scent filling the enclosed area of the plane. They’re all angry, angry at those responsible, and angry at themselves for falling for it. “They were usin’ us the whole time.” 

John lets out a long breath. He needs a clear head going forward. He needs to be able to beat them at their own game and cause the least amount of damage to you as possible. As much as going after Shepherd first is tempting, cut the head off the snake and end things before they get too far, he knows that won’t stop Graves. He’ll continue even after Shepherd is dead. 

There might even be a second contingency. They kill Shepherd, you die too. 

“John, we can’t leave her.” Kyle says, still holding his hand. His fingers are wrapped tight around his wrist, trying to ground him as best as he can in this tumultuous moment. 

“The longer we wait, the worse things will get.” Simon says. “We go after Shepherd, we may never see her again.” 

There won’t be anything to come back to. 

He stares at his pack, all standing there, staring at him, waiting for him to make his decision. He’s their Captain, he’s their alpha. It is his decision in the end. He’s the one that they will follow, even if he makes the wrong decision. Even if he tears them apart in the end. 

“Where is she?” John growls, into his comms. 

“We’re working on decrypting the video now.” Kate replies.

“I need a location, Kate.” John says impatiently, heading towards the cockpit. For all he knows those flying the plane are in on it too. 

 “We’re doing the best we can with what we’ve got. You’ll be the first to know as soon as we find something.” Kate tried to placate him. 

“I better be.” He growls. 

Kate lets out a sigh as the comms close off. It’s not a captain she’s speaking to anymore, it’s an angry alpha. His pack, his omega is being threatened and now they all have to face the ramifications of it. She’s just as much a cog in this machine. She fell for this, she brought you into this, and now you might get hurt because of it. How she didn’t see the reality has shame burning through her. They were all blind, all led astray, all fooled by the red herring. 

There was never an initiative. It was never about strengthening packs. It was always about control. They wanted a way to control packs. Shepherd knew if the secret ever came out, there would be no stopping the consequences. Legal or illegal, retribution would come for him if the truth was revealed. 

This was his way of stopping it. 

That's why the 141 were the guinea pigs. 

They are the most dangerous threat to Shepherd, and he handed them a way to control them under the guise of strengthening packs, experimenting on how their dynamics and efficiency would shift with an omega added in. Even worse, they all fell for it. 

Time is of the essence now. Graves won’t stop, even as word reaches Shepherd that they’re easing off of him. Her only hope is that Graves won’t kill you. That will give them nothing to live for, and it will make them more ruthless than they already are. They’ll go after Graves, and then they’ll turn their eyes to Shepherd. 

No matter what you’ll always be a way to control them. 

If she can find Graves, she can send out a team to get eyes on his location. That way, they’ll have a direction she can point them in, and they won’t be going in blindly. This is a delicate situation, and she can’t trust Graves to uphold his end of the deal in this. They’re not going after Shepherd, but will that stop Graves from hurting you just because he can? 

There’s more to this than they’re letting on. She knows it, deep down. There’s something else, something even deeper below the surface. 

She’s got a lot of work to do. 

They’re going to need help. 

Christine can’t sit still anymore. She can't take it. It’s been almost eighteen hours since your disappearance and there’s been nothing. No word, no news. She knows you’re alive. Kate had confirmed that, but that hasn’t eased the burning questions eating away at her mind. What is your current state? Who took you and why? Where is your pack and are they even aware of what’s happening? 

She’s been sitting and twirling her thumbs. She can’t bring herself to do any paperwork, any research. What is there to do besides sit and worry? She doesn’t have a patient to take care of because she lost the one she was supposed to watch. 

She huffs out a breath, pulling her phone out of her pocket and dialing Kate. If Kate won’t call, she’ll call herself. Kate’s probably busy though, so Christine can’t blame her too much for not calling. She’s probably so far from the front of Kate’s mind right now. 

The phone rings twice before Kate answers, sounding tired and disheveled, just as much as Christine feels. 

“Laswell.”

“Kate, I need to be there.” She doesn't hold back, doesn’t try to make small talk. There’s no time for it. She knows how Kate is doing, and it’s not great. 

“Christine, I don’t know if I can take that risk.” She says. 

“I need to be there. I can't take sitting around here anymore. When...” When not if. They will find you. She knows it. “When you find her, she’s going to need someone she knows there, someone that knows how to take care of her.” Christine lets out a breath, the relief of getting her thoughts out taking some of the weight off her shoulders. 

Kate sighs, but she has to know Christine is right. She’s not sure what state you’re in, and depending on how bad it is, and where your pack is, you’re going to need her. Even if you think she was behind this. “I’ll have a plane ready to go in thirty minutes.” 

“Thank you, Kate.” She says, letting out a sigh of relief. 

“Don’t miss the flight.” 

Christine hangs up, gathering a couple things from her office before closing and locking her door. She nearly runs to her barracks, packing a bag quickly. She’s not sure what to bring, or how long this will take. She’s not even sure exactly where she’s going. 

She hurries to the airfield, phone in hand. She’s not sure where the plane is or which one she’s taking. She’s just relieved Kate is doing this for her. 

Her phone buzzes as she reaches the tarmac, making her pause. She lets out an annoyed sigh before answering the call. 

“Of course you have to call at the worst possible moment.” She says. 

“I’ve always had the worst timing.” Alex’s voice comes through the speaker, and she can almost hear the smile on his face. 

“I can’t talk long. I’m about to board a plane.” She says. 

“I know. We’ll pick you up on the tarmac.” 

She blinks in surprise. It’s been years since she’s seen her brother, months since she’s spoken with him. Ever since he retired from Delta Force, his regular calls have been happening less and less, and they’ve reached near radio silence over the last couple years. Now he’s involved in this too? 

“Kate called in a favor.” He continues, and that’s all she needs to know. “We’ll see you in a few hours.” 

“Yeah.” She says, tears brimming in her eyes as she smiles. Despite everything, she’s glad she gets to see her brother again. Glad she has some support in this. Your pack will be mad. They’ll blame her. She’s not afraid of them, but she knows Alex will stand behind her no matter what. “See you then.” 

**Content Warning: light torture, ‘mega gets punched, further injury to previous injuries, panic attack**

Your hands are starting to go numb. The constant attempts to free yourself from the zip ties isn’t helping, but you’re beginning to get twitchy. Your omega is scratching at the back of your mind, begging to be free, but you know you won’t survive it. The room is full of armed mercenaries, and you’re sure if you tried to take out Phil first, you’d be pumped full of bullets before you could even do any damage. 

He’s leaning against the wall far too casually, staring at the phone he’d used to record the first video of you. His explanation had been simple. Your pack stops going after General Shepherd, you don’t get hurt. The longer they chase Shepherd, the more Phil gets to torture you until they decide your life is worth more than Shepherd’s. 

Will they choose you over Shepherd? What if they’ve already decided to abandon you? What if your fears were right and they’ve given up, and that’s why they were gone so long? They won’t care what happens to you if they have written you off as a burden, as a loss. They’ll let Phil torture you to death and they won’t even blink an eye. You’ll just be another casualty. 

It makes your stomach hurt, the idea of your pack letting you die. Even the idea of someone who had once been a friend of your family being so cold towards you has nausea bubbling in your belly. He doesn’t care. His only worry is money, not the past. He doesn’t care. He’ll do the bidding of whoever offers the highest price. 

He lets out a sigh, pocketing his phone as he pushes himself off of the wall. “Looks like your boys don’t follow orders well.” He bends down, putting his hands on his knees so he’s face to face with you. “They’ve decided to leave you here with me. Looks like Shepherd was wrong. They don’t really care about you as much as everyone thought they did. Makes me sad, them abandoning you so easily.” 

You try to ignore his words, try to convince yourself he’s doing it on purpose, trying to mentally break you. Yet you can’t deny those words play exactly into your doubts, your fears. Have they really left you here, choosing Shepherd over you? Would they decide to do that? How easy had that decision been made?  

Tears blur your vision as you stare up at Phil, your eyes burning as you try to put on the bravest face you can. You won’t let him have the satisfaction of knowing he’s getting to you, playing into your fears. 

“Unfortunately, that means I have to hurt you.” He stands up straight, staring down at you for a moment before pulling his fist back, hitting you across the face. 

You see stars for a moment, your head snapping to the side. The left side of your face is numb, the taste of metal flooding over your tongue. You’re bleeding, blood pooling in your mouth. A hand grips your chin, pulling you back so you’re sitting up straight in the chair. You stare up at Phil, the fear fading away to anger as you glare up at him. Your face is throbbing, and you know it’s going to swell and bruise later, more than it already has thanks to Corporal McKinney. 

Traitorous bastard. 

They all are. 

“I do feel bad for hurting that pretty face.” He says, stroking your jaw with his thumb. 

The movement is impulsive, the anger becoming too much. You spit the blood in your mouth in his face, the droplets splattering across his skin. He turns his head away for a moment, bringing his other hand up to wipe at the blood. 

“That wasn’t very nice.” He says, looking down at you. 

“Fuck you, you fucking creep!” You yell, kicking at him with your bad leg. 

He releases your face, catching your leg easily. He pushes his thumb against the bullet wound, all the fight leaving you as pain tears through your body. You let out a scream, trying to pull your leg away but he won’t let you. He holds his thumb there as you scream, the tears streaming down your face. 

“Okay, okay please! Please stop!” You beg, the pain radiating up into your hip and side. You can’t take it anymore, your brain starting to go fuzzy as you hyperventilate. 

He releases your leg, his hand wrapping around your throat to lift your face. The tears are streaming down your cheeks, mixing with the blood from the cut on your cheek. There’s no sympathy, not even regret in his eyes as he stares down at you. 

“I don’t want to hurt you, but if you can’t behave, I’ll have to do just that.” He releases you as you continue to hyperventilate, your eyes starting to glaze. You’re distressing. Will Phil help you? Will he do what he has to do to keep you alive? If you die, there won’t be anything stopping your pack. The entire plan will be over. They’ll go after Shepherd, then they’ll hunt down Phil. 

Cold ice water hits you in the face, shocking you back into clarity. Phil is holding the cup of water he’d been letting you drink from periodically. You blink at him as water drips into your eyes, your breaths hitching but far slower than they had been. You’re awake and aware now. 

You didn’t even know it was possible to do that. 

“Don’t distress on me now.” He says, putting the cup down. “We have so much ahead of us.” He moves around to the back of your chair, bending down until his breath hits your ear. “Besides, you make me help you out of distress, I might not be able to stop myself.” 

Your eyes pinch closed as his lips brush the shell of your ear before he stands back up, tears mixing with the icy water still sliding down your face. 

“Please tell me you have good news.” Kyle says as they stand around the table. John is still fuming, anger rolling off of him like it has been since they found out the news. He’s hanging onto the quickly fraying strings of control he still has on his alpha. 

“We’ve narrowed down locations to the US.” Kate says, standing bravely before them. It’s not the first time she’s been before an angry alpha. It’s not the first time she’s been before an angry John. 

“Damn it, Kate, we need a location.” John says, slamming his hands down on the table. 

“We’re working on it as fast as we can.” Kate says, unflinching. “We’ve got limited people and resources now. We can’t trust just anyone anymore.” 

John lets out a long breath as Kyle puts a hand on his chest. He’s tired. They can all see it in his face. He’s tired and angry and rapidly losing control. 

Simon pushes Kyle to the side, blocking John’s view of anything but him. The big alpha puts his hands on John’s shoulders, looking him right in the eye. “You won’t do her any good by raging like this.” He says, his voice flat and calm. “You know these things don’t happen immediately. They’re underground for a reason and we just have to be patient.” 

“She doesn’t have that kind of time.” John says loudly, but there’s a strain to his voice. 

“It’s better to wait and have a direct location than to run around on a wild goose chase. That’s what they want. They want us angry and thinking on instinct.” He squeezes John’s rapidly drooping shoulders. “We all want her back, but we just have to trust Graves will keep his end of the deal.” 

“She’s stronger than she looks.” Johnny says. “She’ll give ‘em hell.” 

John runs a hand over his face as he begins to deflate. They’re right. It’s better to wait and know for sure than to waste time running around and exhausting themselves. 

“Please tell me you have any news.” John says, moving back towards the table. 

“I do.” Kate says. “I’ve called in some backup. They’ll be here shortly.” 

Christine nearly runs down the ramp once the plane has stopped on the runway. She’s jet lagged and worn out after eight hours of worrying, but she’s eager not only to finally get some news on you and your status, but to see her brother for the first time in a long time. 

It’s not hard to find him. 

“Chrissy!” He grins, hugging her tightly. 

She has half a mind to complain about the nickname she’d endured her entire childhood, but she can’t find it in her as she hugs her brother tightly. She’s missed him, more than she realized. Their jobs have kept them busy, her with her medical studies and practice, and Alex with...whatever it is he does. 

“It’s been far too long.” She says, pulling away from him. She’d love to stand there and hug him for an hour, but she can’t. They have more important things to do. Time is of the essence, if her worst fears are true. 

“A lot has happened, a lot has changed.” He says. 

She looks him over, spotting the more noticeable changes in comparison to the last time they were face to face. “You could say that.” 

“We can talk about it later.” He turns to the other person with him, a woman. “Christine, this is Farah.” He introduces her. “Farah, this is my baby sister Christine.” 

“Nice to meet you.” Farah says, shaking her hand. 

“You as well.” Christine looks between them for a moment. She knows that look in Alex’s eyes as he looks at Farah. 

“We should get moving.” Farah says, ignoring him. 

“Laswell has moved off the grid.” Alex says, opening the driver’s side of the SUV. 

Smart, if things are as bad as she thinks they are. 

Christine gets into the back, letting out a long breath. She’s closer now to finding out what’s happened to you. The guilt is still eating her alive. If she just hadn’t left, if she hadn’t believed the phone call, put it above your safety. 

Things might have been worse if she had stayed. 

“Kate filled us in about everything.” Alex says as he drives away from the airfield. “At least in regards to the pack and your involvement.” 

“There’s some things she’s not telling us.” Farah says. “Though if things are as bad as they sound, I don’t blame her.” 

“I don’t know much of anything.” Christine says, staring out the window as they drive out of the city. “I feel like it’s my fault. If I hadn’t left her alone...” 

“It’s hardly your fault.” Alex says, glancing at her in the rearview mirror. “If this was all planned, there wouldn’t have been anything that would stop it from happening.” 

“They might have done worse if you had stayed there.” Farah says, speaking Christine’s own fears aloud. 

“I wish I could see her. Make sure she’s alright.” Christine says. “If something happens to her...” 

“From what I hear she’s a hardy omega.” Alex says, trying to comfort her. “She’s withstood a lot. She can survive the 141, she’s probably giving them hell as we speak.” 

**Content Warnings: light torture, choking to the point of almost passing out, blood, very detailed descriptions of pain, non-fatal stabbing**

It’s getting hard to breathe. Phil’s grip around your throat is getting tighter and tighter, less and less oxygen getting to your bloodstream and your brain. Your mouth has an almost permanent metallic taste as blood drips down your chin. Blood stains Phil’s arm from where you bit him, teeth marks red and angry looking from where they broke the skin. 

“You fucking bitch.” He growls, jaw clenched. “Your alpha should have taught you some manners.” 

His hand squeezes tighter, cutting the air off entirely. You begin to panic, tugging against the restrains with your raw, cut up wrists. Black dots begin to dance in your vision, your legs straining against the zip ties keeping them attached to the chair. Your hands and feet are going numb, your entire body tingling. This is it. You’re going to be choked to death. 

He holds his hand there for a moment, letting you struggle before he lets go and you suck in a gasp of air. You slump over in the chair, blood splattering on the floor as you cough, your throat raw and sore. Tears burn in your eyes as you heave, trying to get the oxygen flowing through your body again. 

Phil bends down to your level as you sit there, head hanging as blood drips from your mouth. Your tongue is raw from how many times you’ve bitten it. It’s impossible to tell how much time has really passed. There’s no windows in the room. The only light source is the cracks around the door behind you. Even then with the bright light in your face constantly, it’s hard to tell anything anymore. 

“Feisty still, but everyone has their limits.” His hand cups your chin as he stands, lifting your face to follow him. His hand holds the back of your head up as he wipes at the blood under your nose and on your chin almost gently. 

Tears stream down your cheeks as you stare up at him, unable to even care anymore that his hand is so close to your neck. All he has to do is move it down just slightly and squeeze and you’ll be unaware of anything around you, at the mercy of his bidding. 

That would almost be a relief. 

He dumps another icy cup of water over your head, keeping you from slipping too much into a panic. The cold water stings the cut on your chest and the one on your arm as it slides down your shoulders. You’ve lost the ability to feel the throbbing in your calf, numb to most of the pain in your body. 

Why haven’t they come for you? Where is your pack? 

Have they written you off for good? Was finding Shepherd more important than you? 

Phil’s phone goes off, your stomach dropping. He stares at the screen for a second before turning back to you. 

You shake your head, the tears cascading down your cheeks. “No,” You start to shake. “No, please-” 

“You know I have to, darlin’.” He moves behind you, tugging on your hair to keep your head up as one of his men stands in front of you with a phone in hand. 

He counts down on his fingers before pressing record. 

“Having fun yet?” Phil says as he reaches around your head, holding your chin in his hand. He tilts your head back making you look up at him. “We sure are. Aren’t we, darlin’? Tell them. Tell them how much fun we’re having.” 

You’re still crying, unable to stop as you stare at the camera. They really have given up on you. They’ve deemed you unworthy of saving. They’ve let you sit here and be beat up and tortured all because they put the job first. 

They really have given up on you. 

Are they even watching? 

“Please,” You croak out, half begging your pack to care, half begging Phil to have mercy. 

“Since you can’t seem to bring yourselves to care about your own omega,” He shifts slightly, someone handing him something behind you. You catch a glint of metal, your heart rate picking up. You’re panicking, breaths coming in shaky gasps. You know he can do worse. He’s threatened worse, but what is he going to do? “It seems you need a little more...motivation.” 

You try to wiggle out of his grasp in panic, wrists bleeding again from tugging at the zip ties. They’re coated in your blood, your leg throbbing but you don’t care. You need to get away, get free. “No, no-”

You let out a scream. 

It’s sharp and piercing, but nowhere near the sharp pain in your neck. It fires through your very nerve endings, making you aware of the very cells in your body. It shoots up into your brain, igniting every neuron in your brain. Your very blood feels like it’s boiling, your skin on fire from the pain. Every inhale feels like you’re breathing in sand, and every exhale is like glass shards dragging through your lungs and up your throat. The tears streaming down your face may as well be slicing through layers of skin, every wound pulsing and throbbing with a new kind of angry vengeance. 

You’re sobbing, nearly choking on air as the pain continues to pulse in your body. It’s too much, every sensation inside and outside of your body meshing together in an agonizing harmony. 

“Shhh.” Phil tries to shush you as he bends down, his cheek resting against the side of your head. “I know, I know. You’ll be alright.” He presses a kiss to the side of your head before letting you go limp in the chair. 

Your scream still hangs in the air even after the video ends. 

It’s otherwise silent in the room, all eight of them feeling the weight of their decisions on their shoulders. The scents in the air are full of pain and regret and guilt and anger. 

“Was that fatal?” Kate asks, breaking the tense silence. 

“No.” Christine chokes out, her voice shaky. Her hands are trembling where they’re tucked against her sides. Her arms are crossed over her chest, trying to bring herself some kind of comfort after what she had just watched. “He went for the scent gland. It’s not a fatal injury, unless you go too deep, but he knew what he was doing.” She swallows the lump in her throat. “It’s just incredibly painful.” 

Her words hang in the air for a moment, all of them still trying to process what they had just seen. 

John slams his hands on the table, all of them jumping. “I fucking told you.” He says, his voice laced with the deep growl of his alpha. “I fucking told you Kate, she should have been flown out here as soon as you made the call.” 

“I know.” Kate says, undeterred by his anger. She’s seen it many times, though she’s rarely been on the receiving end of it. “I know, I made a bad call. None of us knew they would take it this far.” 

“But we knew something was going on behind the scenes.” John says, still radiating anger. “All precautions should have been taken.” 

“There was no guarantee her being here would have stopped them. She might not have been any safer here.” Kate says, trying to ease his anger, even though she knows it’s completely warranted. “This goes far deeper than we thought it did. Even before this plan was set into motion.” She waits a moment, letting the air settle. “A year ago, a convoy was smuggling missiles and other weapons into the Middle East in an off-the-books operation. The convoy was attacked and the missiles and arms were stolen by a Russian PMC group. The operation was conducted under the command of Shepherd, and the soldiers in the convoy were all Shadow Company.” 

“That’s how Graves is tied into this.” Kyle says. 

“It goes deeper than that.” Kate says, pulling up a file and displaying it on screen. “The missiles and weapons being smuggled weren’t being sent to aid allies in the Middle East. Shepherd sold them to AQ and the Russians. The PMC group that attacked Shadow Company was hired by Shepherd to make it look like an ambush.” 

“Fucking weasel.” Simon growls. 

“I don’t know how much Graves knows, or how much he helped hide the entire operation, but his ties to this go even deeper than that.” Kate says, and they all shift closer. “Graves has history with your omega.” She says, pulling up an old photo. “We combed through one of her brothers’ Facebook pages. Found an old photo of her dad with Graves. They served on the same base when her family lived in Texas before Graves left to join MARSOC. She would have still been a child at the time.” 

They stare at the photo, Graves clearly identifiable as he stands next to another man, beers in their hands. There’s two other boys in the photo, young and grinning at the camera. Standing in front of Graves is a little girl, a happy grin on her face. They’re all in various combinations of red, white, and blue. 

4th of July, they assume. 

“That’s how she got into the institute so fast.” John says, staring at the photo. He’s never seen a photo of your father before. You must take after your mother. “Graves pulled the strings.” 

Kate nods. “He did, but under the condition he would be the one to claim her when she grew old enough. The CIA wiped out that claim when they froze her file.” 

The 141 all shift on their feet, sharing looks. John feels a sick twisting in his stomach at the implications. Your position in the photo suddenly makes sense. Anger burns in him, deep and bubbling like magma. He’ll kill the bastard. 

“This is revenge then.” Johnny says. 

“In a way, I think.” Kate says. “We took away what he wanted. Graves wasn’t going to pass up this opportunity. He’s not afraid to get his hands dirty.” 

“This all is what the initiative was created for.” Christine says, leaning against the table. “A contingency in case this all was uncovered.” 

“A way to control us.” Kyle says. 

Kate nods. “Yes. It was all a plan to give the 141 a weakness, a way to be controlled should the situation arise. In this case it just so happened to be the uncovering of his traitorous arms deals.” 

“We were all pawns in this.” Christine says. 

“We let them walk right in and take control like that.” John says, turning to Christine. “You let them walk in and take our omega.” 

She turns to face him, undeterred by his agitation and anger. “I did what I thought was right at the time. I got a call from one of the front desk workers in the med center saying that someone was waiting in my office for me.” She explains. “They wouldn’t say who it was, and the whole thing felt off. I knew whoever would be visiting me was not going to be friendly, so I felt it was safer to leave her in the barracks than take her with me and risk something happening in a place she doesn’t know well. In the barracks at least she’d know places to hide and barricade herself.” 

She takes a deep breath, still facing down John fearlessly. He’s coiled tight like a spring, ready to jump at any moment should he deem it necessary. It’s those protective instincts, the knowledge that his omega is somewhere else, taken unwillingly and being tortured feeding into that need to fight. 

“My office door was open when I got there.” She continues. “I always leave it locked. I went in prepared to fight, but I was attacked from behind. Hit over the head and drugged with something fast acting, something that would keep me incapacitated long enough for him to strike.” She stares up into his eyes, projecting her scent just a bit to try and get him to calm down. “We all made mistakes here, things we thought were the right choice at the time.” 

She’s not wrong. They all know it. They had just seen proof of it.  

“The assailant?” John asks, turning back to Kate. 

“Corporal McKinney.” Kate says. “He was in Shepherd’s pocket from the start. Someone who could watch first-hand. Someone who could sneak into the barracks unnoticed without many questions. He was likely the one that put the cameras up.” 

“Fucking wanker.” Simon growls. “He approached her once in the mess. Early on. Tried to introduce himself to her. Backed off as soon as I intervened. Never tried again, at least that we know of.” 

“She never mentioned him.” Christine says. “Or anyone else on base that might have tried to approach her.” 

“Where is he now?” Kyle asks. They’re all angry, frustrated. How had they not seen this happening? 

“Local police tracked his car to an abandoned airfield not far outside of Hereford.” Kate says. “He was dead inside. Police ruled it suicide.” 

“I’m sure it was.” John says. 

They all know it wasn’t. 

“Shadow Company likely picked her up from there with orders to stage a suicide.” Kate says. 

“One less loose string to worry about.” Simon says. “Covers their tracks in England.” 

They all go quiet. How this had all happened right under their noses? They’re all guilty of falling for it, for being too trusting in a world they know they can’t be too careful in. Allies can turn on a dime and become enemies. Betrayals can be easily bought. Things can turn downhill within a blink of an eye. They’re supposed to be prepared for the worst, ready for every possibility. 

They had written this off as a conspiracy, and now their omega is paying for it. 

“We need a plan.” Farah says, breaking the silence. 

“We can’t let Shepherd get away with this.” John says. 

“We cannae just leave her.” Johnny argues against his head alpha. It’s a brave thing, considering his alpha’s current mental state.  

“I don’t know how much more she can take.” Simon backs his beta up, the desperation and pain on your face still visible in all of their minds. 

“Let us go after Shepherd.” Alex says, offering up a solution. “He’s obviously watching for you to come after him.” 

“We can move undetected.” Farah agrees. “He’s less likely to expect us. You need to focus on your omega. Shepherd will show himself again eventually.” 

“Do we have a lead on their location?” Kyle asks, turning back to Kate. 

She nods. “We do now. I sent a team out to try and track location through the videos and where they were being sent from.” She pulls a map up on screen. “We have a location.” 

“Texas.” Alex says. 

“He took her home.” Christine says. 

“We have a plan then. We go after Graves, Farah and Alex start tracking Shepherd. Kate is eyes in the sky for us.” John says. 

“She’s going to need medical attention as soon as possible.” Christine says. She looks at Kate. “Where is the nearest military base from their location?” 

Kate types on her computer. “Naval Air Station Joint Reserve Base in Fort Worth.” 

“Get me there and I’ll be waiting. She’s going to need someone she knows.” She says, looking at John. “She’s not going to just let anyone close to her after this. She may not even let you close.” 

John stares down at her for a long moment. She stares back unflinchingly. She doesn’t get intimidated easily, not after years of dealing with institutes and alphas alike. 

He lets out a breath, staring down at her for a long moment before he nods. “I trust you.” 

“Short reunion this time.” 

“I’m just glad I got to see your face again.” Christine says, looking up at Alex. 

“Things are...complicated.” He says. “Maybe after all of this is over we can go and get some coffee. Talk about our lives...as much as we can.” 

The corner of her mouth twitches up in a smile. “I’ll hold you to that.” 

Alex pulls her into a hug, holding her tightly. “You’re doing good work, Chrissy.” 

She shakes her head at the nickname, but she holds him just as tightly. “I’m trying to.” 

Alex pulls away, squeezing her arms. “I’d say you are. You care a lot. To the point some might call it a character defect.” 

She scoffs, slapping his chest playfully. “Not like you’re much better.” She glances at the car where Farah is waiting patiently. “I’m happy for you.” 

“Oh, we’re....” Alex blushes to his ears. “We’re not...” 

She gives him a look. “Mhm sure.” She looks up at him one more time. “Be safe.” 

“As best I can.” He says. “Take care of yourself. Don’t be too hard on yourself either.” 

“I try not to be.” She squeezes his hand before stepping away. 

She watches the SUV drive off, stomach churning with nerves for both of them. Shepherd is dangerous, but Alex has fearlessly faced down danger since he was a kid. He’s always been brave and determined, loyal and unafraid to do what he thinks is right no matter what. She trusts him to take care of himself, she trusts Farah to help him, even if she only met the woman today. 

She trusts them both to take care of each other. She trusts them both to help put an end to this. 

Your body aches, muscles screaming. You can’t take much more. Your cheek throbs painfully, swollen to the point you almost can’t see out of your left eye. The pain burning from your neck makes the other pain in your body nearly irrelevant, nearly nonexistent. It’s like electricity, burning through your very cells. Every movement seems to make it flare, makes the electric shock jolt through you. The burning pain that follows makes you whimper, a pathetic choking sound squeaking out from your bruised throat. 

The pain makes you nauseous, vomit staining the front of your shirt and pants. It’s mostly bile and the little food you’ve gotten since your kidnapping. 

Nutrient bars, meant to keep you fed and nourished for a short period of time. 

You may never be able to eat them again. 

“Fuck.” Graves curses, staring at his phone. “They’ve backed off.” He steps up to you, looking down on your pathetic form. “Looks like your boys do care about you after all.” 

Do they? Are they really coming for you, or have they simply given up chasing Shepherd because they lost all their leads. Will they come for you, or will they leave you here to rot? What will Graves do then? Try to take you as his own omega? Kill you out of anger? 

Your stomach churns and you can feel the bile rising. 

You vomit again, the warm liquid splashing into your lap. You can’t lean far enough anymore, not without the risk of not being able to pull yourself back up, not with the pain burning your every movement. You can’t even lift your head anymore, your body weak and battered and bruised. There’s blood everywhere, on you and on the floor. You can still taste it in your mouth, mixing with the sourness of bile. 

Graves gives you a disgusted look before turning to the others in the room. “Duran, Lewis, keep watch. The rest of you come with me.” 

He leaves the room for the first time in what you assume is days. For once the cocktail of scents begins to disperse, all but two of the alphas finally disappearing. Where they’re going or what they’re going to do, you don’t know. You can’t bring yourself to care either way. You just want to go home. You want to see your mother again, your brothers and sisters, even your father would be a welcome sight after this. You want your alpha, you want him to hold you, to take you in his arms, keep you safe.

He abandoned you. He left you to suffer like this. 

Your breathing picks up as you sit there, chin to chest as you stare at your bloody shirt. The smells in the room are awful, the scents no longer there to block out the sour bile and metallic stench blood. Tears are streaming down your cheeks, pink tinted splatters dripping onto your pants. What are you going to do now? What are they going to do to you now? Will they keep you alive long enough for your pack to arrive then kill you in front of them? Will they torture them too, make them watch as the life slowly leaves your eyes in revenge for chasing after Shepherd? 

A sob rips through your sore throat up out of your lips. 

You just want to go home. 

You just want to be free. 

You can be. 

Distress. The final defense. The last ditch effort omegas have to save themselves. Distress will lead to your omega taking over, and if nothing else, a quiet death you won’t even realize is happening. Your body will give out and you’ll be safely tucked into the back of your brain, comforted by your instincts. You won’t have to worry anymore. You won’t have to care. 

If nothing else, the pain will be over. 

I’m sorry. 

You begin to breathe heavier, ignoring the pain in your body as you push yourself to hyperventilate. The alphas behind you might do something, might try to stop it. They could, but would they even know how? Would it even work if you got too far? They’re not your alpha. They can’t comfort you, bring you back from the edge without forcing you. Will they even bother? 

You tilt your head to the side, putting pressure on your injured scent gland. You sob at the pain, the burning flowing straight into your very cells, making them scream. You push through it, your wrists twisting against the zip ties, digging them further into your already damaged wrists. The pain pushes you to a point of panic, your heart rate through the roof. You can feel it, the tightening of your muscles, your joints locking into place. 

You’ve never done it purposefully before, but in this state, it’s not hard. 

They left you. They’ve abandoned you. They’ve given up. It’s all your fault they left. They’re not coming for you. You’re not worth it. 

The thoughts send you down the spiral, the edges of your vision starting to go dark. You’re floating away, hands and feet going numb as your wheezing, shallow breaths block the oxygen from getting to your brain. You’re sinking, your body floating as you begin to retreat into the back of your mind. The cage is open, your omega soothing you as you drift off, curling up in the back recesses of your mind. 

You’re safe now. She whispers. 

There’s no going back. 

You’re going to get out. 

Even if you have to do it yourself. 

The last breath you remember taking is shaky, making you cough before your vision begins to fade to grey, then to black. You’re getting out of here no matter what. You’re going to go to sleep. If you fail, you’ll never know it. Your death will be quick and gentle and you’ll never know it happened until you’ve moved on to whatever is next. 

You won’t remember any of this. That’s your only consolation. 

Your vision fades to black as all memory and awareness leaves you. The last thing you remember is the snap of the zip ties around your wrists as they break. 

“Graves has moved with some of his men to the western building. It’s likely the hostage is being held in the eastern building. Gaz and I will go after Graves. Ghost and Soap will try to secure the hostage.” 

“Keller is on her way to NAS JRB as we speak. They’re on standby for medevac.” 

“Stealth is our priority. They know we’re here, we risk losing the hostage. Quick and quiet, take them by surprise. The faster we do this, the sooner it will all be over.” 

**Content Warning: blood and slight gore, someone gets shot offscreen, some gorey and explicit imagery towards the end**

He’s not unfamiliar with high stakes missions. It’s his specialty. He’s cool and calm under stress and pressure, which is why he gets chosen for them. He can detach easily, get the job done and then go home and forget. 

So why are his hands shaking? 

This isn’t a high stakes mission, not like one he’s used to doing. The stakes are higher, higher than he’s ever had before. It’s not just eliminating some faceless target, it’s not just rescuing some faceless hostage. 

It’s rescuing you. 

How much did he get for this assignment? How much did he settle for once he learned you were involved? 

He hates that you were involved in all of this. He hates that they all fell for it, blind to the truth, blind to Shepherd’s traitorous actions. They refused to entertain those conspiratorial thoughts, and now you’re paying for it.

He hates it.

He should have never left you alone like that. He should have argued against Price and his decision to leave when they knew something wasn't right. They should have known something was going on behind the scenes, that there was a higher purpose to all of this.

His conspiracies had been correct from the start.

He hates that it had to come to fruition.

How could Graves torture an innocent omega? You're not just an innocent omega to him, though. You're a broken promise, a lost opportunity, one he'd waited for, for a long time. Of course he wouldn't have stopped as soon as they started going after him. He wouldn’t give up just because Shepherd told him to stop. He’s ruthless and uncaring of who he hurts and why. He gets his orders and he completes them, no matter what, so long as whoever is giving those orders can pay a high enough price.

Far too much despite that fact, most likely. Maybe he should become a merc. Less rules and more money.

It’s not a bad idea. 

He lasers his focus on the building as they creep through the trees, moving silently. Two against however many are inside. It was impossible to tell with how many were moving between the two buildings constantly. 

He brought the whole squad. He planned on putting up a fight regardless. 

At least they have the element of surprise on their hands. 

“We move silently through the building.” He says as they approach the door. There’s two guards standing outside. “They know we’re inside, things could go downhill quickly.” 

“On you, LT.” Johnny says, taking point beside him. 

“Drop one, I’ll take the other.” He says, aiming at one of the two Shadows guarding the door. 

It’s quick and quiet, their bodies slumping onto the damp dirt. Simon scans the area before moving forward to the door. It’s unlocked, Johnny pushing it open slowly to check for a trip wire. 

None. 

Sloppy, or perhaps on purpose. They can’t be too careful. Shepherd will have let Graves know they’re not on his trail anymore. He’ll be expecting them. 

They split up, combing the bottom floor of the building. He takes out two more Shadows, checking every room for a sign of their target, but they find none. 

“Second floor.” He says, waiting at the base of the stairwell for Johnny to join him. 

“You think she’s in here?” Johnny asks as they creep up the stairs, careful not to make too much noise. 

“Well, we’ll find out.” 

It’s far too unguarded to where they’re holding you. Graves will have assumed they’d split up. He must have moved most of his men to the western building to put up as much of a barricade as possible. He can picture Graves standing there, the smirk on his face as he holds a gun to your head. Will he take that risk, shoot you in front of them and give them nothing to live for? Or will he use a knife, letting you die a slow, painful death in front of them? 

Or, maybe he moved them to the western building to make them think that’s where you are. Focus their attacks there so they leave you behind. He gets cornered, he send the word to kill you before any of them can get to you. 

More red herrings. 

He pauses before he reaches the top of the steps, taking out the shadow standing down the hallway. They split up again, looking through rooms at the top of the stairs, making their way down the hallway. 

One of the doors is open, and he silently motions for Johnny. He counts down silently in his head before rounding the corner, rifle up as he scans the room. His stomach churns as he looks inside, taking a couple cautious steps forward. He’s seen a lot of things in his time, done a lot of things, but this is different. 

“Screaming Jesus.” Johnny says, lowering his rifle as he steps in behind Simon. 

There’s blood everywhere. 

It’s coating the floors, leaving a sticky residue as it dries. It’s the room you were in. He recognizes it from the video, and the bright light in the corner is a dead giveaway. The chair in the middle of the room has been broken, the wood of the arms snapped off and splintered. There’s four bloody zip ties on the floor, along with several instruments on the floor including the ice pick. 

He wants to shove that into Graves’ eye for what he did to you. 

There’s two bodies on the floor, one of them dead in a pool of his own blood, the other choking as blood seeps onto the floor under him. He steps up to the shadow, putting his boot on his chest and pushing. The Shadow lets out a groan, coughing up blood. 

“Where the fuck is she?” He growls, staring down at the quickly paling face. 

“Fucking bitch went crazy.” He chokes out. “Went running.” 

Simon steps back, pulling out his handgun and firing two bullets into the Shadow’s head. 

“Price, we found the room.” He says into his comm. “The hostage isn’t here. A half-dead Shadow said she bolted.” 

“LT.” Johnny says, motioning to the door, the only other exit from the room. There’s a bloody handprint on the door, one too small to be one of the Shadows’. 

“I think she managed to get out.” He says, staring at the handprint. His stomach drops, his hand tightening around his rifle. He glances down at the bodies, throats cut and faces bloody. “I think her omega took over.” 

“You and Soap go after her. She’ll do the one thing she knows to do, the one instinctual thing she can do if she has nothing to fight.” Price says. “We’ve got Graves cornered.” 

Simon pushes the door open, cool air flowing into the stuffy room. There’s bloody shoe prints heading down the stairs. He can see the rapid turn on the concrete below before they head off towards the trees. 

“I’ve got a trail.” He says. 

“Go.” Price says. “Simon...you know what you have to do.” 

He does.

He motions for Johnny to follow before hurrying down the stairs. The longer they delay, the further you’ll get. He doesn’t doubt some Shadows followed you if you made that much of a ruckus. The more time they waste, the more dangerous things get, and not just because they might lose you or the shadows might catch up. 

He races towards the treeline, rifle in hand, but there’s no one else standing guard. Price and Gaz will have taken care of those in the other building, and those that were outside probably went after you. 

He slows once they break the treeline, trying to catch any hint of your scent that might be left. His only hope is that you’ve left a trail. He’s a tracker, he knows what he’s doing. His senses are stronger, more in tune. He can find you. He can track you down. He has to. 

The guilt is eating him alive. If something happens to you, he’ll never forgive himself. He’s right here, so close and yet so far. You’re running on borrowed time and there’s only so much of it left. Eventually you have to slow, eventually your body will start giving up. Will it be too late then? If a Shadow finds you when you can’t fight back...

“Dead Shadow ahead.” Johnny says, motioning to the slumped over body ahead of them. “We’re on the trail.” 

“Let’s hope she left more markers on the way.” He says, kicking the Shadow, but the stab wound in his neck is all Simon needs to know. “Keep going straight.” He says, continuing on the path they’ve been following. He needs just a whiff, a hint of your scent. Something. 

They come across another dead Shadow, this one off to the side of the path they had been following. He turns, making an adjustment before moving forward. Johnny keeps close, both of them watching for more Shadows, or for any glimpse of you. All they can hope is they’re on the right path. 

He nearly sets off in a run as he hears a sound ahead. It’s a yowl, almost like a mountain lion. It sends a tingle down his back, his alpha blaring warning alarms. A threatened omega is a dangerous thing. Fierce and protective of themselves, capable of great feats and lethal if you get too close. 

It’s you, no doubt. 

Price had been right. 

He has no choice. 

He pushes forward, his steps quick as he makes his way through the bushes. He spots you near a boulder, trying to fight off a Shadow. He’s got the upper hand, using his size against you. You’re getting tired, your movements slowing. Simon aims with his rifle, a shot to the head dropping the Shadow. You drop into a crouch, surveying the trees. You’re covered in blood, a knife in your hand as your wild eyes search for them. 

“Distract her.” He says to Johnny. “Make yourself as unthreatening as possible. I’ll go around and get her from behind.” 

He doesn’t even wait for an acknowledgement before he’s moving, slipping around to the side of the boulder. Johnny steps into the clearing slowly, holding his hands up, talking to you quietly.

“Easy, kitten. Ye know who I am.” Johnny is careful not to get too close, his steps slow as he moves to the side, getting you to turn. “We’re just here to help ye. Get ye home and safe.” 

You’re holding the knife up, brandishing it at Johnny. Simon isn’t sure if you’ve ever thrown a knife before, but he doesn’t put it past you to try in this state. 

He hopes Johnny’s reflexes are fast enough. 

He slips out from behind the boulder as you pause, wasting no time as he races up behind you and grabbing you before you can bolt or go for Johnny’s neck. You let out another yowl, struggling against him as he wraps an arm around your chest. Your teeth sink into his arm and he lets out a curse, but he doesn’t let go. If he lets go, they won’t get another chance. It’ll be too late. 

He doesn't want to do it. His mind flashes back to his father and mother, one of the few times his mother fought back. It hadn’t lasted long before her body went limp, practically a ragdoll in his father’s hold. Simon had grabbed Tommy and ran, barricading them in his room. They didn’t want to see what was going to happen next. 

He doesn’t want that kind of control over you, he doesn’t want to put you through that trauma. The disorientation, the fear, the confusion. That must have been what it felt like after being sedated during your heat. You had been sick for days, crying in Johnny’s room. He had heard every sob, every attempt to soothe you. 

He put you through that. He made you face that despite the fear on your face as Johnny escorted you to the med center. 

And now he has to do it again. 

He has to this time. He has no choice. His only other option is to let you die. Price will never forgive him. Johnny won’t even look at him again. He’d betray them worse than you did, worse than Shepherd, worse than Graves. 

You never really betrayed them in the first place, though. 

You were afraid, untrusting of them, unsure because of your past. He had been foolish to blame you, foolish to think it was somehow your fault. You acted out of fear, out of terror. How you must have felt in those moments when that beta showed up, when you faced down Shepherd alone, when you returned to find your space invaded and those cameras all over your room. They weren’t there to protect you, they weren’t there to support you. They left you alone and you hid it from them because you didn’t know any better, because you were so afraid. 

He’s a goddamn fucking prick he’s been. 

Tears blur his vision as he tucks his free arm behind you, shifting your position just enough so he can get his hand around the back of your neck. You kick out with your legs, releasing his arm, your head tilting back in a last ditch, instinctual effort to protect yourself. 

His eyes squeeze closed as you let out a yelp, his fingers digging into the back of your neck. It’s hard enough it will leave a bruise, but he has to be sure. It’s the only thing that might save you. It’s his only option, his only chance to keep you alive. 

“There you go.” He says quietly into your ear. “Need you to relax for me.” 

Your body goes limp in his hold, head resting back against his hand as he holds you there. Your muscles twitch as the tension leaves you, eyelids fluttering before they close. His arm stings where your teeth had sunk into his skin, hard enough to draw blood, but he doesn’t care. 

“Keep resting.” He says, easing his hand from the back of your neck as he shifts you in his arms. “Gonna get you somewhere safe.” 

You’re like a ragdoll in his arms as he lifts you up, cradling you against his chest. You’re warm, hair sticking to your forehead. 

“Call it in.” He tells Johnny, his eyes still glued to your face. “We need that medevac now.” 

“Price, we got her.” Johnny says into his comm. “We need medevac stat.” 

You look so peaceful despite the blood soaking your body. Partially yours, partially the Shadows you killed in your escape. You look like a gruesome painting, a gorey depiction of an omega pushed too far. Something they’d put on display in a museum, a photo that would win prizes in celebration of such a natural state caught on camera. It would be circulated for decades, something talked about centuries from now. 

A raw view of humanity’s inner beasts. 

He can’t stand it, seeing you like this. They did this to you. They are the reason you’re like this. They made the bad call in the end, they put you through this. You won’t forgive them, not after everything. You went weeks without them, without a word and then this happened. Innocence tainted in the blood of the guilty. The bloodstained omega held in the arms of the blood-tainted alpha. He should be the one covered in their blood. He should be the one carrying the weight of torture and desperation on his shoulders. 

The guardian dog covered in blood in the name of protecting his innocent sheep. 

How he’s failed you. How they all failed you. 

He pushes past the pain, past the grief, past the guilt and the horror of what they did to you, what they put you through. 

They’ve got you back. You’re safe. 

It’s over. 

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