#this is my first omegaverse fanfic- yell at me if I messed up lol

[rosegolden13]

A Lesson in Inevitability

18+, omegaverse dynamics, manipulation, almost scruffing, mean alpha John Price, a lil bit nicer beta Gaz, military inaccuracies

~1k words

You make your knock loud, firm against the wood of his door. It takes a conscious effort not to be soft, but you can do it. His hum is all you get for confirmation that you can come in.

He’s lounged back in his chair, boots on the desk and files in hand.

You wait for him to address you, like a good omega should. But fuck that. He doesn’t even look towards you.

You’ve got a rank higher than your designation. You honestly hope your anger bitters your scent, even with the military-grade scent blockers you’ve applied heavily to your scent glands, just so that he’ll stop sitting there and ignoring you.

“Captain.” It’s more demanding than you’ve ever been with him.

You succeed in catching him off guard, as much as one can with John Price, the notoriously unshakable alpha, for his eyes finally meet yours. You don’t blink. It takes nearly everything in you to fight the urge to lower your gaze, but you don’t. 

When he says nothing, you fill the silence. “With all due respect, sir, you can’t keep putting me on on desk duty. Frankly, it’s an insult to my abilities and my rank. I’m just as much part of this-” 

“Spare me the tirade, Sergeant.” His words are biting as they interrupt yours, boots on the floor before you can even blink. He’s fast for an alpha. “The answer is no.”

You blink, taken aback by this. “No? What do you-”

“I mean, you’re not seein’ the field, hear me?” He’s approaching you leisurely and slow, discarding the file on his desk, but his voice is near a growl.

Your omega understands the danger before you do. She’s ready to bare her neck and submit, fall on her knees if it means Price'll be proud of her again, like he was when you brought him the completed paperwork he needed this morning. She can't handle this.

But you can. This isn’t your Alpha. He’s your Captain. “Why not?” The words are flat, as is your subtle scent overwhelming the scentblocker, no longer the sweet vanilla but more like something burnt and smoking.

He arches a brow, arms crossed over his chest. “Don’t question your superiors, soldier.”

Gritting your teeth, you go to turn on your heel. You know exactly how to get him to answer. “Transfer me, then. If you won’t use me, somebody will.”

He doesn’t let you get to the door, grabbing your shoulder a bit too tightly. “And let you get killed? Is that what you want?” He yanks you around and your body doesn’t stand a chance against his strength.

“No, I-I just want to do my job, Price! For god’s sake.” You try to push at his arms, but his grip is steel-like on your shoulders. 

“Do it then.” His voice is a dangerous calm as he meets your eyes. “Shake me off, Sergeant. Show me you can handle the field.”

You gape at him a moment, sure you’re misunderstanding what he means. But before you can protest, he has you up against the door which hits against the frame, wood meeting wood in a dull thump. His face is closer to yours than its been in weeks, not since you first joined and had to get the awkward experience of scenting one another out of the way.

“You heard me. Try to get away.” The words are a growl, predatory in a way that makes your whole body go rigid with fear. 

But you fight through the instinctual panic. You’ve been through worse, and he won’t hurt you, even if you inner omega is convinced he will.

“What the hell is this?” It’s more scared than you want it to sound as you struggle against him, managing to kick the knee you know is bad.

But he just chuckles, easily wrestling you into place with your front pressed to the door, cheek against the wood. “Good strength for a ‘mega. But you can’t resist your nature, soldier.” His thick fingers tease at the nape of your neck, causing you to tense beneath his touch.

“Price!” It’s a panicky squeak as you squirm desperately against him, the dread making your throat close up. “Don’t-” Already, just the graze of his fingers against that sensitive area, attuned to the smallest of touches, is causing your mind to go numb around the edges, your knees weakening. 

“That’s how easy it is. Someone gets their hands on you like that, and you’re dead. You’re not ready, you hear me?” The words seem to sink into your flesh, engraving themselves inside you, just as his fingers press further into your nape. It’s enough to make you sink against the door, the tension leaving your body.

His touch is gone seconds later, his grip back on your shoulders as he shakes you. “Do you understand, soldier?”

Your mind is still distant, the fear you felt moments ago dulled, but, even in this state, you know better than to argue against this. You've lost. There’s a salty wetness against your lips when you open them to speak, but you don’t remember crying. “... Yes, sir.”

“You won’t ask me for field work again, will you?”

“No, sir.”

“That’s a good ‘mega.” He squeezes your shoulder before you hear his boots heading back over to his desk. 

—

You’re not quite sure how you end up in Kyle’s arms, but, as you come back to yourself, you’re grateful to be here. His scent is clean and fresh, like a warm basket of laundry just out of the dryer.

He’s cooing to you in that low, soothing tone of his, saying something about how mean old Price doesn’t know how to take care of a sweet little thing like you, how he’ll talk to him for you about this, how maybe Price was right but he shouldn’t have been so cruel about it, how he’ll take good care of you, lovie. 

It only occurs to you much later, a month or so, when you’re squished between the two of them, breathless, naked, and sweaty, that maybe it was a little too convenient that Kyle was there that day.