Omegaverse Power couple gaz and reader who wear scent blockers all the time and constantly have people guessing their designations.
You love to fuck with people about it, one day ur scruffing gaz and growling at him with a deep rumble. The next hes got u cornered against a walk with ur neck bared submissively. It drives people crazy, some of them bold enough to outright ask ur designation. You both know there's a betting pool going on, and its fucking hilarious.
You swear you hear rookies argue in the halls about the way gaz left a bit mark on ur shoulder last week, only for someone else to chime in about you leading him everywhere. So far the highest bets are on you being an alpha, and gaz being an omega.
The best part? Ur both betas. Have been, always will be. You just like to fuck with people (and take a share of the prize pool when ghost wins lol)
A/n: heyyyyy okay heres part 6 i hope you enjoy MWAH
~*~
It wasn't anything they hadn't done dozens of times before.
Simple. To the point.
Get in, get out, get rid of all hostiles.
The scent of Omega had been used before in this way, almost like a biological warfare.
But never had they succumbed to it the way they did that day.
A single split second hesitation that allowed the little thing to get the jump on them.
Though she didn't do much physical damage, the limp fall of her body shook the men to their core.
One, more than most.
Because in that moment, she wasn't a hostile. Wasn't an enemy.
For a split second, she was a woman. An Omega.
For a quick but impactful moment, he could feel you in her.
And then Soap put a bullet in her.
The memory of everything that happened and the idea of all that could've gone wrong stirs unease deep within his primal mind. A feeling that, for once, he doesn't fight.
Instead, he lets it wash through his body, mirroring the water raining down on him.
Finally, once he's cleaned the day off, he follows his nose in an attempt at finding you. You who can calm him, soothe the ache he feels in his chest, in his bond.
Simon starts at your room, following the aging scent of you down the halls, his brows drawing together when he walks through the kitchen, and then his heart rate spikes when he pushes through the exit at the very back.
The edges of his vision cloud and all that consumes him is the thick viscous sound of blood pumping behind his ears.
The wind carries a fresher version of your scent to his nose and he snaps back to attention, grabbing his phone as he takes off running.
Soap answers on the first ring, brows immediately pulling together when he hears the wind on the other end.
And then he's sitting up stiff as a board, smacking his hand into Gaz's thigh to grab his attention.
"We're on our way."
~*~
Your training exercise evading your pack mates taught you a lot.
Far more than you're sure they'd want you to know.
Because now it's been three days and they still haven't found you.
You can feel Simon's anger through the bond, feel his worry, and something else that you refuse to name.
Instead, you focus on anything else. Everything else.
Creating shelter, masking your scent, protecting yourself from the elements and the animals alike.
You're not sure how far you are from the base, but if the sounds of the wolves at night are anything to go off of, you're pretty far.
A wave of fear suddenly washes over you, followed immediately by chills as sweat begins to bead on your body.
The sound of the fire crackling nearby does little to drown out your moan of dread as you drop your head back against the little cave wall.
You don't have long. A few hours, at most, until your heat hits full throttle.
So you spring into action.
Stoking the fire to keep it alive, you venture outside to gather more wood.
You took enough rations and water to -hopefully- last your heat, now all you need is enough wood and mud to mask your scent throughout the worst of it.
The worst of it hits faster than usual, and you find yourself stumbling back to the cave, trying to hold on to your bounty while also pressing a firm hand to your cramping abdomen.
You drop the wood as soon as you're back inside the safety of your cave, hunching over with your hands on your thighs and trying to take deep breaths.
Sweat beads down your back, sticking your shirt to your skin until you tear it off in a heat-induced rage.
Cool rock is suddenly pressed against your flushed skin and you groan softly, fingers digging into the ground as you seek out the sweet relief you know you won't find.
Because the one thing that can truly cure the desperate longing ache in your belly is the one you want to see least in the world.
But just because you don't want to see him, doesn't mean he isn't tearing the world apart in his search for you.
Unfortunately for him, he's not the first one to track you.
You hardly notice the new presence. You don't hear him approach, only really registering his presence a moment before his clammy rough hands find your soft, tingling skin.
A sound that's half whine half gasp leaves your lips, and you crane your head back to look at the man.
Fear ices your veins when you're met with a face you don't recognize.
"Didn't think it was true," the man murmurs, a heavy hand grabbing the back of your neck and forcing your face into the ground.
You try to fight, to flee, to escape with your dignity intact, but you're a slave to your instincgs.
As if there wasn't enough salt in the wound, this only proves your Alpha right. Omegas are useless. Weak. Fragile.
The rough hand holding your neck forces you to submit against your will, and not but a whimper leaves your lips.
Silent tears trek down your cheeks and for a brief but profound moment you find yourself wishing you'd never been cursed with your presentation.
A harsh knee forces its way between yours, shoving your thighs apart.
The scent of your heat is already heavy in the cave, but with nothing but your panties covering you, the spreading of your legs only further taints the air.
The brute on top of you is suddenly gone, and it takes you a few moments to realize why.
There, in the mouth of the cave beyond the flicker of the flames is a familiar skull face, murderous eyes focused on the man on the ground in front of him.
You watch through the fire as he towers over the stranger, head cocking to the side with an eery calmness.
And then he's sinking to his knees, strong hand squeezing the mans throat.
"Touch her again," he whispers, his eyes unblinking, unwavering.
"I-I'm sorry, Lieutenant," the man pleads hoarsely, voice lacking the confidence it held mere moments earlier.
"Touch her again!" He snarls, cracking the man's head against the ground.
Your inner Omega forces you to move, eyes on the two threats standing between you and safety.
"Do it," Simon says, "go on. Make your death worthwhile, at least."
The cave stinks of smoke, pheromones, and fear. You can't tear your eyes from the two men, even when a crunch rings out and the man stops struggling.
Simon's eyes meet yours, finally, for one breath, and then another, and then he's hauling the dying man out of the cave without a word.
You move quickly, grabbing only what you absolutely need and then running out of the cave in the opposite direction.
You stumble more than you sprint, but you don't care. Your Omega doesn't care.
All that matters is putting as much space between you and the Alpha as possible.
But if you think you're getting away that easy, you've got another thing coming.
It takes him no time at all to catch up to you. Your heat hinders you more than you're ready to admit.
But that's what gives you the upper hand.
It's your heat, your feral Omega, that forces him to stay several paces away when he catches you.
He holds his hands up in surrender, inching forward slowly.
With every step he takes, you take one back, growling warningly.
He doesn't want to hurt you. More than anything he just wants to take you back to base and lock you in his room where nothing and no one can ever hurt you.
But he knows you're not going anywhere without a fight.
"Omega," he tries, ducking down when you huck a rock at him.
"No," you snarl. Though it's your voice, it doesn't sound like you at all.
Because you, the you he's used to, are hidden somewhere behind the teeth and claws of your inner Omega.
She's at the reins, she's holdin the steering wheel.
And he has no idea how to talk to her.
"I won't hurt you."
"Get away."
"No."
"Get away!" Another rock.
"Stop!" Now his voice rivals yours, heavy authority weighing down the words.
"Why are you even out here? I thought I was a waste of fucking oxygen. Why waste your time coming after me?"
This makes him pause and then he's swallowing down his regret and forcing out whatever he can think of to break the tense silence.
"Wasn't talking about you." Is his pathetic lie.
You glare at him.
"Let me leave."
"No."
"Please."
"Never."
A sob bubbles out of your chest and you feel anger burn through your being.
How dare he witness your pain.
He does more than just witness it. He completely disregards it. Takes advantage of it and uses it to gain the upper hand.
He tosses you over his shoulder like a bag of potatoes, strong arms pinning your writhing body to his to stop you from escaping. With you hauled over his shoulder, he marches back to the cave to -hopefully- find some peace for the rest of the night.
The moment his grip loosens, you slip away and scramble as far back as you can, burrowing as deeply in the cave as possible while keeping your wild eyes on him.
You don't let him touch you.
Or maybe, your Omega doesn't let him touch you.
Either way, Simon Riley sits at the mouth of the cave, dark eyes tick tocking between you and the dangerous world outside like the pendulum of a grandfather clock.
You, you in the corner of the cave, writhing in heat induced agony while refusing the cure. You with one hand shoved between your legs and the other groping a heaving breast.
Your scent is heavy and thick, but with a protector now you don't feel the need to mask it. Nor can you really focus on somethings so trivial when it feels like someone's taking a chainsaw to your insides.
Your pain is tangeible, palpible. Simon can taste it on the air and it kills him that you wont fucking let him help you.
So instead, he called-
"Jesus, isn't that a sight."
Captain John Price shuffles his feet loudly just outside the cave, weary eyes trained on you as you snap your head up, growling in warning at the intruder.
"S'just me," he tries, holding his hands up in surrender.
You glance between him and Simon for a few long seconds before eventually dropping your head back and letting out another mewl of pain as your fingers continue working between your legs.
"How long she been like this?" He asks, shrugging off his jacket then kneeling to untie his boots.
"Hours at least. Maybe longer."
"Fuckin' hell."
The older Alpha takes a deep, rumbling breath, then huffs one out just as heavily.
He does this a few times, works hard to break through the barrier of your scent that's gushing from you almost as profusely as the slick between your thighs.
When the first hints of that musky, woodsy scent finally tickle your nose you whine, eyes flashing open.
"Alpha."
A shiver ripples down Simon's spine, and he needs to take slow, careful breaths to keep his composure.
"M'here, little one. Can I touch you?" Price asks quietly, always the gentleman.
You reach for him, a shuddering cry hiccuping out of your chest when his fingers brush against yours.
Simon's heart cracks in his chest a bit at the noise and he wishes he could drown in the waves of regret that poison him. They storm over him, hurricanes of envy and self-loathing that do everything but take him away.
So he sits, like the bad mutt he is, and watches as his Captain slides two thick fingers through your dripping folds while your hands flutter pathetically against his chest.
Simon can practically feel the ghost of you as he watches his Captain handle you.
Price does it with such ease, such tenderness, it almost makes the Ghost sick.
The older Alpha tugs off his shirt and rolls you onto your stomach, a happy growl rumbling in his chest when you immediately arch your back and present your pussy for him.
"There she is, good Omega. Had us worried sick," he murmurs, pants shoved down to his ankles as he makes his way behind you.
He blankets himself over you, thick hairy chest warming your sensitive back while his fingers slip into your sopping little hole.
The mewl that leaves your lips is finer than any music, and Price suddenly feels a decade younger.
He nudges his nose against the back of your neck and scents you deeply, huffs and puffs hot breaths of air onto the sensitive skin there and relishes in the way the rest of your body responds.
Your cunt clenches around three of his thick fingers, a shiver ripples down your spine, and finally, finally, your scent starts to settle and a soft sigh leaves your lips.
Price's scent is so homey, so warm and so safe that tears spring to your eyes and shuffle down your cheeks in silent little streams.
You whine in protest when he pulls his fingers out of you, but he's quick to shush you with a soft nip at your neck.
His heavy cock is there suddenly, warm and throbbing between your legs, and then he slides through your folds, rubbing your wet clit on each pass.
The sound that leaves your mouth has Simon's hands twitching.
"Easy, little one," Price rumbles in your ear, hot breath fanning down your neck and dusting over your mark.
Your breath hitches on a moan, and your hips jerk back just as he rolls his forward. Instead of sliding through your folds again and further tormenting you, he's swiftly half-sheathed inside of your fluttering walls.
A shuddering groan leaves the man behind you, and then he's pulling back only to slide right back in.
You gush around him as he works his way inside of you, mouth and eyes wide as you finally, finally get that relief you've been gnawing at for hours.
Drool pools under your chin and your eyes become glassy as he fucks every inch of his thick cock into your wet hole.
Your Alpha watches on in silent despair.
When Simon was in his rut, he fucked you like a dog, hot and hungry and desperate.
Price, on the other hand, ruts into you hard and heavy like a bear. Big grizzly body caging you against the floor of your den as he fucks his cubs into your waiting womb while your Alpha sits like a cuck at the mouth of the cave.
Eventually, after the darkness has started to fade and your belly is almost swollen with cum, you fall asleep in Price's arms.
"We need to bring her back."
Simon only snorts and shakes his head.
"She's satiated right now. We need to take advantage of it," Price presses, huffing more of his scent onto you to keep you lost in the fog of your bliss.
Silence falls over the cave for a long moment before Simon is up and moving, packing up what little belongings you have.
This is omegaverse related so please here me out… What about something different? What about…
A
Feral Omega?
I’m talking like, this omega isn’t your typical omega. This omega is downright dangerous, reports of Omega going feral but causes of harm to them due to some omega discrimination.
So what if, reader who is feral omega, is down right butchering enemies. And doesn’t hesitate to almost maul some alpha recruits if they want to mess with her..
Cw: omegaverse, feral!reader, violence, blood, weird pack dynamic, discrimination, protective behaviour, tell me if I missed any.
You were a ‘one-of-a-kind’ omega —spoken with utmost reverence by them. You were their strong and independent omega, whispered in crowded halls, mumbled in darkest nights, screamed in busy moments, and kissed to in warm and comfortable beds. You were anything but a strong and dedicated and reliable soldier, someone Ghost had grown to respect after a joint Op, then coaxed to rely on by the others when they saw how welcoming Ghost was and simply how skillful you were at your job.
You were small but spry, less bulky but flexible, weaker but resourceful. You were everything they sought for in an omega. You were so much alike Soap, yet molecularly different. Though it was every alpha’s dream of finding a soft and loving mate to provide and protect for, someone smaller and more fragile than their thick muscles and broad build, there was a thrill in being reminded that they weren’t always at the top, being grounded and brought back down from their high horses. Against all of traditional mating couples, your current age and time had demanded more equal partnering, a relationship where both parties stood on the same ground.
And Ghost and Price thrived on that, their employment demanded a level of independence from their mates and pack mates, the capability of standing on their own and manage grief and stress. That’s where Soap stood, an omega at it’s finest, strong and independent and emotionally knowledgeable, the glue to their pack, and Gaz, the stabiliser, the soft and gentle hand that reminded them of who they were.
Then you came bulldozing through their well-built dynamic: feral and wrathful, full of hate and anger for the world who had wronged you. When the military had rejected you for both your sex and gender, you’d worked up the ranks in the CIA with your blood, sweat and tears, starting from a fresh agent - a rookie - to an experienced one. You’d gotten so far that Laswell had eventually reach out to you, acknowledged by someone so powerful and partnered with The Ghost had gotten you the acknowledgment and respect you’d dreamed of.
It was a rough start with Ghost, but he learned to rely on you as much as you did him, you had formed a mutual understanding that only grew into fondness after meeting the rest of his pack. They were a functioning mix of weird and quirky: a leading alpha that was a big, soft bear, another alpha that was rough on the edge but caring, an overenergetic and fiery omega and a beta that represented everything you liked in one, calm, open-minded and smart. It was odd seeing you join them so often and continuously on Ops that didn’t need much of CIA intervention, but you all made it work.
You’d become a familiar face on base, a blunt and no-nonsense agent to new people, but cracked jokes and smiled with those you knew. Fiercely protective of your pack as much as they were with you. If Soap was a menace, then you were an omen, your deep frown and growling snarl, baring your teeth as a warning before you attacked. The world had taught you to bark and bite —and bite you did, a strong and dangerous one, leaving you bruised and roughed up, but your opponent gasping for life and battered.
Honestly, sometimes you were more trouble than it’s worth, but wouldn’t have it any other way.
Could we maybe…have more feral? Feral is best baby 😭
It had taken a while but Feral had accepted they had a scent again, their second gender now more prominent. Beta, just like Kyle and Johnny.
Maybe that’s why Feral started collecting their clothes first in their room, replacing the stolen clothes with their own. It just made sense to them. They were closest to Kyle and Johnny after all.
Feral had now been allowed to eat outside their room, the scent coming from them more pleasant than the sour, sharp one they used to give off. There was always a hand placed on the back of their neck though, in case anyone thought it was smart to approach.
Feral was… happy? Content? They didn’t know what they were feeling as it had been so long since their frayed nerves could settle.
Movie nights between the three Beta’s became a reoccurring thing. All of them snuggled under a couch, Ghost’s or Price’s blanket thrown over their legs.
Maybe it was the blanket that made Feral take it with them to their nes- room. The strong alpha smell nearly overwhelming the scent of the Beta’s but it made that weird purr rumble from deep inside Feral’s chest once more.
~
It has been a few days since anyone on the taskforce has seen Feral, Johnny and Kyle finally heading over to their room. The building Feral is located in reeks of omega in heat, the lads thinking a nearby alpha having procured one. The scent though grows thicker the closer they walk to Feral’s room.
Their door has some scratches that weren’t there before on the outside, making the hairs on their arms prick up as they open it, the full blast of omega in heat hitting their noses, making their eyes water.
And right there, right there in the middle of a nest made up of their clothes and blankets is Feral, their Beta, growling lowly at them before they realise it’s their pack, whimpering as they try to satisfy the slick heat between their legs.
taglist: @kxnnxy
A/N: omg finally got to write feral reader!!!! Had this idea for a week but struggled to find motivation to write these past few days. Thank you for your patience 🥰
in sickness and in health, ch. 2 - alpha!simon riley x omega!reader
here is chapter two!!!! in writing this chapter, i realized that this little fic has taken on a complete life of its own that i never anticipated, and will have many, many more chapters to come, so if you want to be added to a tag list to make sure you stay up-to-date, let me know in the replies! eat well, lovelies <3
as always, if you want to understand more about my omegaverse au, you can look at my masterpost here, and it'll help explain all of the intricacies that may or may not be explained well enough in these short-form fics!
word count: 4,270 chapter one chapter three
masterlist ao3 link
You slept. And you slept. And you slept.
But, Simon held tight to his promise to you. He didn’t leave your side for any longer than necessary, and necessary held a very… loose definition to Simon as you laid on his bed, all but comatose. In the three days since you had shown up at his door, Simon had left the bed maybe five times to relieve himself, and a handful of other times just to growl somebody away from the door who had missed the memo that Simon and you would be out of commission for the foreseeable future. The rest of the time, he just laid next to you, curled up like a guard dog. Sometimes he talked to you, but most of the time, he was just watching your chest as it rose up and down, his fingers resting delicately over your wrist to ensure your heart was still beating. That you were still here.
It had been three days. And you still hadn’t woken up. The worry in Simon’s heart was becoming hard to keep down, and the neglect of his own body was starting to catch up with him. He hadn’t done any work, hadn’t showered, and had barely eaten the food that the team had left at the door. He was going insane with panic, with fear, at the thought that he lost you. That he had killed you.
He never knew what he had had until it was gone.
Simon was spiraling. He sat in the corner of the bed, making sure to keep his thigh pressed against you, but his head was in his hands as his fingers tugged relentlessly at his dirty blond strands. It was his fault. All of this was. He didn’t know how to be a good alpha, let alone any sort of partner that he knew you needed him to be. He was so completely lost in his own tortured mind that he didn’t even hear Soap as he slipped into the room.
It wasn’t until the tray full of food that Soap was carrying clattered to the ground that Simon even noticed he was in there. Simon’s head snapped up, his hackles rising as a vicious growl ripped through his throat. The sound was a clear warning to get the fuck away from him and his mate, but all Soap did was roll his eyes in complete exasperation and take a step closer to your sleeping form.
Simon’s growl intensified at the intrusion, his muscles rippling in preparation to fight. It didn’t matter that this was Johnny, one of the few people on this earth that Simon trusted wholeheartedly. His mate was dying, and Simon’s alpha was tearing itself apart, identifying anything and anyone that got too close to you as a threat. But, the other alpha ignored him. The only sign that Simon got that Soap even heard his posturing was the low, return growl that left Soap’s lips as they curled up to reveal his alpha fangs.
“Haud yer wheesht,” Soap grumbled in reply as his hand came up to rest on your shoulder, his thumb rubbing gently over the joint. Soap’s focus was entirely on you, completely ignoring the massive bulk of Simon just on the other side of you. Soap and you had always been friends, and you had sought comfort in him over the last few months of Simon’s neglect. Guilt gnawed at him that he wasn’t enough, that he couldn’t help prevent the bond sickness from stealing you away, but that guilt was far overshadowed by the rage he felt towards Simon.
“How could ye ever do this to ‘er, huh?” Soap muttered, the words low and dangerous as he finally glanced up at Simon. “She was good. More tha’ good. She was a great fuckin’ medic, better teammate, and now look at ‘er.”
Simon’s alpha growled in response. He knew he had fucked up, destroyed you in ways he was only beginning to comprehend. He would take you yelling at him, telling him how shit he was, but hearing it from Soap, another alpha, was a whole new level of shame and guilt. Simon wasn’t built to hold this much emotion, never taught how to properly deal with his feelings, and he was at his breaking point. His rage was rising, like water that had been left on the stove too long without proper supervision, the bubbles breaking free over the steely confines of the walls he had built around his heart.
The very same confines that had kept him from you.
Simon’s eyes zeroed in on Soap’s hand on your shoulder, and he lost it. He scrambled off of the bed, his movements uncoordinated due to the lack of sleep and sustenance, but still full of the undeniable power that lived within the massive bulk of the alpha. He slapped Soap’s hand away, and grabbed at the straps of his tactical vest. Simon picked the smaller alpha up and spun to press him against the wall, Soap’s head cracking off the drywall. But, it wasn’t enough. Simon hated himself. Hated Soap. Hated everything that he could even remotely tie in as a factor to your comatose state on his bed. Simon gnashed his teeth in Soap’s face, pure, unbridled alpha rage pouring off of him.
Soap just smirked, completely unfazed.
“Oh, I see. Now you can be all protective over ‘er when she’s dying, aye? When it’s yer fuckin’ fault that she wasted away like this? You should’ve been better!” Soap was close to yelling now, his own hands coming up to Simon’s throat. Soap wasn’t going to kill him, no, the only thing that that would accomplish right now is causing more harm to you. But, dammit, if he wasn’t close.
Soap squeezed at Simon’s throat, his alpha claws digging into the mating bite on the side of the larger alpha’s throat. “I should rip that fuckin’ bite right off of ye, ye know that right?”
Simon roared, jerking his neck around to get Soap’s claws as far away as possible from the scent gland that held the imprint of your smaller omega fangs - the last thing truly tying him to you. He was far too gone with his rage, his alpha bursting against the confines of his skin, to even begin to formulate a response. All he could see was the red-hot haze of his rage, of his grief, the anguish that had settled so permanently into his bones over the last three days.
Soap grinned, a mean, sadistic thing that did little more than show off his alpha fangs. It was a challenge, an expression eerily similar to what a predator does when defending their territory. But you were not Soap’s territory. He knew that. He wasn’t trying to vye for your affection or to stake claim on you. His goal was single-minded: get Simon pissed enough to finally admit that he needs you, that he’ll fight for you, for your health, and that he’ll never abandon you this way again.
And if he wouldn’t? Well, Soap wasn’t looking for an omega of his own. Mainly just saw you as a constant in his life, in his pack, but he would single-handedly rip out that mating bite that glared, swollen and red from the strain of the bond, on the edge of Simon’s throat with his own claws and claim you as his own, if it meant fixing you, giving you some sort of stability.
“Ye did this to ‘er! Yer neglect, yer fuckin’ issues, made ‘er this way! All because your head was so far up your goddamned arse you couldn’t see it! She deserves better! She deserves an alpha who will take care of ‘er, not someone who will abandon her for months on end in hopes of getting blown to pieces!”
“I know!” Simon roared in response as he lifted Soap away from the wall again and slammed him back into it. “I know!” His grip on Soap started to falter as tears welled up in his eyes. He let go of Soap with one hand, the smaller alpha falling back to his feet on the ground as Simon scraped his hand across his face to prevent the tears from falling.
“I… I just… I don’t know how to do this, Johnny. It’s not like I grew up with a…” Simon trailed off, his voice thick with tears and regret as he completely let go of Soap to run his hands through his hair in anguish. “My father was an awful man. A horrendous example of an alpha. He… the things he did, Johnny, to me, to Tommy, to my poor fuckin’ mum… the only promise I made to myself when I left that place and let it burn to the ground was to never be like him. And that meant keeping myself as far away from any omega as I possibly could. I never wanted this! And then the brass gave that ultimatum, and shoved us together, and… and I sure as shit wasn’t gonna be the reason that she got kicked out of the place that she worked tooth and nail to get to! I didn’t know how to be an alpha! I didn’t know how to protect her, and I had no one to ask! I just… I… I just didn’t know…”
Soap stood against the wall, mouth agape as he looked down at the massive, trembling form of the man he considered his best friend. Somewhere in his monologue, Simon had completely collapsed onto his knees, his head back in his hands, but Soap was too busy listening to the raw, honest truth falling from Simon’s tear-stained lips to even begin to try and guess when it had happened. Soap was in shock. But, he was at even more of a loss at how to comfort the other alpha.
Soap crouched down beside Simon, his hand awkwardly, yet gently, patting his shoulder as Simon’s hulking form shook from the force of his silent tears, his agony. Soap sighed as he rubbed his other hand over the back of his own neck. What the fuck had he gotten himself into?
“Ghost, I… I think you need to go talk to Price. Maybe get in with the base therapist.”
Simon stiffened under Soap’s touch as those words left his mouth. He didn’t want to go talk to Price, even if he was his captain and a part of his pack. He didn’t want to have to admit to his failures to the same person who gave him orders, signed off on his paychecks. And a therapist? Yeah, he talked to a therapist, he’d just about be signing off on his own discharge forms.
Soap felt it. How his words affected Simon. He sighed again, a low rumble reverberating from his chest in an attempt to provide some comfort to the larger alpha. It was normally a move reserved for comforting a pup, or a distressed omega, but Soap was truly at a loss of what to do here. He had never seen Simon break down like this.
“Ghost, Price can help. He’s been with his bonnie lass for years, and they’re happy with pups runnin’ ‘round. Just… you can’t keep doin’ this to ‘er. And if that means you need direction, need to see how to be an alpha… at least talk to Price. She deserves an alpha who can be there for her, at the very least.”
Simon nodded slowly, wiping his hand across his face again. He felt weak, like a failure, but he knew he had to try.
You never knew what you had until it was gone.
Yeah, well, he knew now. And he wasn’t ever going to let it go again.
Simon lifted his head, his watery brown eyes meeting Soap’s determined baby blues. There was still anger in Soap’s eyes, but he was shoving it away. No point in kicking his friend while he was already down.
“I… I can’t just leave her here.”
“I’ll stay with her,” came Soap’s immediate response. You had sought solace in him over the last few months, and as another alpha from your pack, you would probably be the most comfortable with him around, even if your alpha was gone.
Hearing Soap’s immediate reply made something in Ghost’s alpha twist with distress, aching at the idea of another alpha taking care of his omega, even if it was another member of his pack. A low growl born of his alpha’s displeasure of the situation rumbled out of his throat for a moment before he quickly cut it off by clearing it. Simon knew this needed to be done, and sooner rather than later. He had to fix his ways, to see what it meant to truly be the type of alpha that you needed, that you deserved. But, before he agreed, he had to know one thing.
“Do you love her?”
Soap froze, his head rearing back slightly in shock. Did he love you? “What?”
“You heard me. Do you love her?”
“Simon, she’s a part of our pack. She always has been, even before you and her mated. So, yes, I love her, but not… not like that.”
Simon nodded slowly, his joints aching as he stood up to his full height again. Everything hurt. His muscles were sore from lack of movement, sleep, and nutrition, and his heart and soul felt as if they had been ripped to shreds. Your end of the bond felt like it had been shrouded in impenetrable inky blackness, which just made him feel even more empty. Gods, it used to annoy him to no end to feel your neverending presence in his mind, but now he would give anything, his own life, just to feel it again.
Soap breathed out a silent sigh of relief as he saw the acceptance in Simon’s nod. His best friend was going to be okay, both of you would be. He had to believe it. And, in classic Soap fashion, he couldn’t help but try to chip away the sour, somber mood in the room by cracking a joke.
“But, ye fuck it up again, and I really will rip that mating bite right out of ye, ye can bet on tha’.”
Simon glared at him, but it was the first bit of normalcy he had felt in… months. He shoved at Soap’s shoulder, but all it did was make the smaller alpha’s cocky smirk widen.
“Fuck off, Johnny,” Simon mumbled half-heartedly as he pulled off the tank top he had slipped on after you had fallen asleep, and he tucked it gently next to your head to ensure you still had his scent while he was gone. He ran a gentle, almost reverent finger down your cheek, smoothing an errant piece of your hair back behind your ear. He sighed softly, his guilt threatening to break free again, but he quickly stepped back from you and tugged on a sweatshirt. He glanced at Soap, his gaze glinting with a possessive protectiveness.
Soap, knowing exactly what was running through his mind, put his hands up in a placating manner.
“I won’ touch ‘er. Just don’ be gone too long, aye?”
Simon grumbled something under his breath but nodded, grabbing his keys and shoving them in his pocket before he opened the door. He paused in the open doorway with one last, longing glance back at you filled with all of the pain and regret and guilt swirling through his veins before he finally stepped through and shut the door behind him with a soft click.
—
He didn’t want to be here. To be doing this but he would, if it meant fixing you. He stood in front of Price’s office door, shifting his weight from foot to foot as he tried to muster up enough courage to knock. The light was on, so Simon knew Price was in there. Hopefully he was just doing paperwork, and not anything… else.
Simon sighed loudly, scraping a hand down his face before he shook out his arms. He just needed to open the door. And, you know, pour his heart and soul out to the Captain, but that would come after. However, he didn’t get the chance.
“You gonna stand out there all day or are you comin’ in?”
Shit. Simon squeezed his eyes shut for a moment as he took a deep breath. He could do this. For you, he could. He had to. He shouldered open the door, but he kept his gaze on the ratty red carpet of Captain Price’s office. Mmm, low-pile. Probably feel really scratchy on his face when Price inevitably-
“Ah, Simon. I’ve been expecting you.”
Fuck. Simon felt untethered, for lack of a better word. He couldn’t get a read on Price’s expression as the older, greying alpha moved his glasses off of the bridge of his nose and carefully folded the arms in to set them on the giant wooden desk in front of him. Simon made a point to keep his gaze away from the gouged out claw marks on the surface of the desk. Simon swallowed thickly and looked back down at the carpet in front of him. He had never had to ask for help before, at least, not like this. Not anything that meant showing his weakness, his losing hand, the fact that he’s a shit ass alpha.
“Uh, yeah. I… um, sir, I need… help.” Gods, kill him now.
“Yeah,” Price breathed out harshly as he stretched his arms back around his head. “Yeah, I’d say you do.”
Simon winced at Price’s words. He sounded like a disappointed father, or, at least, what Simon imagined a disappointed father would sound like, and he felt like he had been brought into the principal’s office after painting graffiti on the side of the building during recess. He finally brought his gaze up to the older Alpha, taking a deep breath before he spoke.
“Captain, listen, I-”
Price cut him off with a raise of his hand as he stood up. Simon watched with wide eyes as Price grabbed a cigar out of the humidor that had always laid on his desk. Price grabbed his lighter, and placed the cigar between his lips before he turned away from Simon and looked out the window in the back of his office. A few moments later, and Simon heard the shink of the lighter catching, and he watched as a thick plume of dark grey smoke rose above Price’s form.
“You should’ve come to me for help sooner.”
“I know.”
“Do you?” Price questioned, looking back at Simon over his shoulder.
“You’ve been running for years, Simon. Even before she came into the picture. And I let you. I shouldn’t have, but I kept hoping you would figure it out. And then, well, you didn’t. And then I watched you continue to close yourself off, to keep your distance. I watched as you brushed her off over, and over, and over again. And, I admit, as the pack leader, I should have stepped in. Should have forced you to stay on base and figure your shit out, but, tactically, it would’ve been a mistake to keep you here. So, we’re here now. What’s happened has happened. How are you going to fix it?”
Simon stood there, slack jawed and wide eyed as Captain John Price just essentially ripped down every single one of his defenses, his excuses, in one fell swoop. He wrung his hands in front of him, feeling exactly like he had been flayed open, all of his weaknesses and failures laid out in the open like intestines.
“I… I don’t know. That’s why I came here. I was looking for… pointers, I guess. Of how to be a better alpha- fuck, how to just be a good alpha. How to treat an omega. I wasn’t ever… I didn’t have good role models for that shit, and I just- well, Johnny said-”
“Will you actually listen?”
“What?”
Price took a deep inhale of the thick, grey smoke and held it as he turned to look at Simon face-on, studying Simon’s shaking form, the wild, lost look in his eyes, before he exhaled. Price kept his face schooled in a neutral expression, but he really did feel for Simon. He had once been a lost alpha like him, confused on how to even begin to take on the responsibility of an omega, how to take care of them. “If we have this conversation, will you actually take what I say into consideration? Or are you going to attempt for a few days, get frustrated, and then give up?”
Simon winced as Price continued to lay into him with that same cold, calculating gaze he used when discussing potential battle plans. Simon sighed softly, letting his head fall back to stare at the ceiling for a moment before he rolled his shoulders and looked at Price. “I have to fix this.”
“Is that a yes?”
“Yes.”
Price grinned around his cigar and sat back down at the desk, his fingers tracing idly over the claw marks in the surface of the wood. He gestured his arm out, inviting Simon to sit across from him. Simon squeezed into the chair, his large bulk making the chair creak in protest. He leaned back, trying to feign a confident, or at the very least, unaffected air, but all of his thoughts just kept coming back to you, his knee bouncing in a very distracting fashion as he fought every urge to just run back to his quarters, just to check on you.
Price smirked and steepled his hands in front of him, resting his chin on his thumbs. “You’re scared, ain’t ya?”
Simon nodded, biting down on his plush lower lip.
“Good. Means ya care. You’re just shit at showing it.”
Simon’s lips pressed into a thin line, but what could he do? He couldn’t protest the truth. He was already flayed open, might as well attempt to dissect and treat the diseased portions where he has been keeping all of his shit coping mechanisms.
“Did you ever court her?” Price asked, watching Simon skeptically. He could guess at the answer, as the relationship between you and Simon was far from traditional.
“No, I… Price, the brass gave us an ultimatum, you know that. I didn’t have time!”
“Not before, you didn’t, but what about after? You still could have courted her. Maybe then you would’ve trusted each other more, and we wouldn’t all be in this situation. Do you even know her favorite food? Flower? Song to dance to at 3 am in the kitchen? Color?”
With each question, Simon sank further and further into himself. He felt like the worst alpha on the planet. And, honestly, he probably was, or else you wouldn’t be still laying in his bed practically comatose.
Captain Price sighed and rubbed his thumb over the deep-set lines in his forehead. “Alright, well, those are good places to start, I guess, but… being an alpha isn’t all about gift giving and protecting. You have to listen to her. And I don’t just mean the words out of her mouth - although those are still very important - I also mean her pheromones. Her body language. Her microexpressions. All of the things she doesn’t say.”
“What!? How am I-”
Price put his hand up again to stop the tirade that he knew was about to come pouring out of Simon. “You pay attention. That’s it. It ain’t rocket science, Simon. You’ve led how many teams through how many missions? I’m sure you can figure out if one omega prefers dark or milk chocolate.”
Simon sighed loudly, the sound trailing off into a growl. He felt so stupid. He had been too focused on himself, on his own trauma and his own issues that he had completely neglected the bare minimum for you. He had so much to make up for.
He slammed his forehead down into the desk in frustration, the force making the pens on the desk jump. “I should’ve just allowed the brass to kick me out. At least then she could’ve been forced to mate someone who could actually provide for her.”
Price shrugged, leaning back in his own chair as he puffed on his cigar. “No point in thinkin’ like that. You guys are mates, and that bond stayed together for a lot longer than I ever thought it would. That means somethin’, you know. So, you’ve really only got one option. You’ve gotta fix it. Listen to her. Pay attention. Make her feel cared for.”
Simon nodded, his forehead still pressed against the cold wood of the desk, but something Price said kept sticking in his brain, ruminating like a dog trying to lick peanut butter off of the roof of its mouth.
“That means something?” Simon asked, looking up at Price, skeptically looking for clarification.
Price just grinned and pretended to zip his mouth shut before waving Simon off. “Go back to your girl. If you still haven’t figured it out in a few weeks, come talk to me. But remember, court her. Especially after all of this. Show her you care. That you can be a good alpha.”
Simon furrowed his brow, not thrilled about not getting an answer about what Price meant, but got up from his seat. He had been dismissed, and all he wanted to do was get back to you.
Courting. Courting. Right. He could do that. Right?
tag list: @kerst666 @misscaller06 @letaliabane @sai-int @itsmeamysworld @massivescissorsthingperson @aeeliy
Omega!reader and beta!Kyle who offers to have one of the other guys fuck you through your heat but you do NOT want them.
You literally wrinkle your nose in disgust when kyle brings the idea up, shifting from where ur snuggled against his chest to stair incredulous. "Seriously baby? Why the hell would I ever want to spend my heat with them?"
He tries to mention how they're alphas and all but ur already cutting him off "Johnny would spend half the time huffing my panties, simon doesnt even fuck omegas, and price has a power complex that i am *not* letting into my nest." You list off, turning to tuck back against his chest.
"Besides, I have you, why the hell would I want another heat partner." His hand comes up to rub along your bicep, an appreciative rumble in his chest.
"But- baby, you wont be satisfied with just me. Doesn't matter how often I fuck you, you'll be miserable and needy, maybe even in pain." He tries to reason, brows furrowed.
"Kyle, love, im never suffering or in pain when im with you. Blissed out of my mind or hazy with pain, your scent in my mouth? Thats all I need."
His eyes are wet when you next look up, a big dopey smile on his face. You kiss his nose, tell him you love him, then prompty reach for his waistband. "Though if you wanna be my heat partner we should work on that stamina. I was taught to train until failure for best results. How long before youre shooting blanks, baby?"
He looks both fearful and immensely horny, definitely ends up crying under you that night lol.
Kyle and Johnny stand frozen in Feral’s room as Feral’s fingers curl deep inside them, whining into Ghost’s jumper.
An omega. Their pack mate is an omega. An omega in heat. That’s dangerous.
“Johnny, go find Price or Ghost.” Kyle tells him. “I’ll make sure no one tries to get in.” He moves beside Feral, stroking their sweat slicked hair. He hears the door click behind him.
Feral whines again, eyes glazed as they look up at him. “K-Ky…”
“It’s okay, I’m here and Johnny is gonna get John or Simon to help you.” He coos, pushing out a calming scent for Feral.
Please!!! I need more of Beta Reader x Poly 141 please!!!
Or maybe an Omega went feral of an alpha who try to do something to her and she went FERAL???
Cw: pack dynamic, Beta!reader, fluff, tell me if I missed any.
You groaned beside Gaz, walking into a crowded room with his arm wrapped around your shoulder. It smelled of rut and aggression, adrenaline laced high and drunken thrill pumping through the pulsing veins of alphas who called this bar home. It was a pungent smell, nose clogging and headache inducing to your sensitive sense. Perhaps you should have wore a blocker like the three others did, betas often had no use to one since their - and by extension yours - noses weren’t as keen or sensitive as the others secondary sexes. Betas couldn’t scent any amount of pheromone or musk, but you were the unfortunate one born with a rare disability —or so most betas considered a disability that negated their clear-minded conscience.
Logic over emotions, the mind presided over the heart of betas. It was what made them essential in a population where the leading figures had moments of hyperactivity and extreme emotional imbalance. Gaz didn’t have any issue following his expectations, cool-minded, gentle and caring, and emotionally dependable. There were such a drastic difference between him and you, grumpy, emotional and suffering from a perpetual scent-inducing headache. He could stay level-headed in all and any situation, but you caved to anger and irritation if the smells became too much.
He was an examplary beta, yet he always praised you ad encouraged you to join them, a warm palm on your back, or a firm grip on your shoulder, Gaz was a steady rock you learned to lean onto. He was less volatile than Ghost and Price and less excitable than Soap. It almost made you loathe how comfortable he was with everyone while you still stuck out like a sore thumb after months under their care.
And it didn’t help that Soap had managed to convince you - coerced, you mumbled - to come drink with them. The bar was packed, filled to the brim with alphas, omegas and betas, most patched with blockers over their noses, but their scent glands still stank under the thick, patchy blockers on their necks and shoulders. Price led you to their designated booth, seemingly promised to them by a higher power. They sat and chatted, boisterous words shared between Gaz and Soap while Ghost loomed over the table to your right, taking the seat at the edge in guardianship. They soaked in the comfortable familiarity: the warm lights and brick walls of the pub, the low music and loud chatter and clatter of glass.
It was all something that would usually make someone relax and calm or happy, but it only made you squirm in your seat, occasionally bumping into Ghost to your right and Soap to your left, squeezed between two big men that smelled so strongly. It made you slightly nauseous, enough to feel a pang at the back of your head, but keep you conscious. You sighed a fourth time, shifting once more, when Ghost placed his hand on your thigh, his palm so big and hot grounding you and keeping you still to his wandering and worried eyes.
“You all right?” The rumble of his voice had lowered to an accommodating tone, considerate of your growing aches, “Do you need a moment?”
You shook your head, mumbling a soft ‘no, thank you’, reassuring his worry and nodding to the table where Price just arrived with drinks in hand. Ghost reached for both his and your drinks, leaning into you and bathing you in his scent, the woody musk coating you in a soft layer of comfort. You were truly fortunate that their scents were the least irritating you’ve ever encountered, soft and comfortable compared to the grating and annoying musk of other teams you’ve worked with.
Thanking Ghost for the drink and flushing lightly after Soap had leaned over and pressed his nose to yours, smiling cheekily at Ghost, you hypothesised that perhaps you could end up liking such outing and spending more times surrounding by them.
