Lately I've been working on a little side project, an f/f omegaverse story. I've never written omegaverse before, and a lot of this is me working out what I find appealing about the concept and what doesn't work for me. I've got a few chapters written already, and hopefully they'll keep coming.
Might put it on AO3 eventually? We'll see.
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Untitled f/f omegaverse story, part one
warnings for this part - a little discussion of what life for omegas looks like, but nothing graphic
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“Sometimes I wonder if we're doing anything worthwhile here.”
Elizabeth made no comment, but watched Lauren methodically open and dump four packets of sweetener into her mug of coffee, leaving the packets on the table amidst scattered crystals, and sigh.
“It's just — we take in people who've been abused, people who are told they deserve to be abused, and we teach them that they don't deserve to be abused and then send them right back out into the same world that told them they're worthless except as housekeepers and sex slaves!”
Elizabeth continued to say nothing. Lauren didn't need answers, she needed to vent, usually once a week on top of her actual mandated therapy sessions. God, Elizabeth was glad she only worked in the Turner Foundation's admin side, chatting up donors and arranging delivery logistics. It was no secret that she didn't think she could handle actually working with the omegas the Foundation helped, although she did keep quiet about the fact that they actually creeped her out.
“We don't even have real statistics on what the long-term outcomes are for them once they leave here. But I do know that a twenty-two-year-old girl I nursed back to physical and mental health a year ago is back, her eating disorder's even worse, and I think she actively wants to die.”
Not because they showed the signs of being abused, of course. She didn't feel anything except sympathy for that. It was the way that despite how sad and tired and afraid they were, they still leaned toward her once they sensed that she was an alpha, craving her affection and approval. There was a debate over how much that was inherent to “omega nature” and the inevitable result of pheromones, versus socialization that taught omegas from birth how they were supposed to respond when they scented an alpha. Neither one appealed. And then they always seemed to be so young …
“And that’s not even getting into the fact that we can’t work one-on-one with all of them to the extent that they need, because there just aren’t enough of us, not to mention the issue of who’s paying for the most thorough treatment packages!” Lauren punctuated this with a muted roar of frustration and dropped her head into her hands for a quick breath. “Anyway, how’s your morning?” she asked when she resurfaced.
Elizabeth shrugged. “The printer in the main office is broken again. And I got stuck on hold for half an hour with a supplier. Seems like I’m not having as bad a day as you are.”
A deeper sigh. Lauren’s eyes were tired, slightly bruised and heavy. She was heading for burnout, Elizabeth could tell — a constant issue for the staff. They took on too many cases, and then couldn’t help but care too much about each of them; you couldn’t really fault them for it, it was a sign of empathy and good priorities, but there was always a balance to strike so that they could keep doing the work, and they generally needed an external push from a supervisor to take a decent amount of time off. At least the Foundation wasn’t stingy with the PTO.
“There’s been good stuff,” Lauren said in a slightly argumentative tone, and took a sip of her over-sweetened coffee. “Um. McKayla’s making a real breakthrough, she’s started to assert some boundaries. And the omega you wrote the grant for just got here! So that has to be a good feeling for both of us.”
For a second, Elizabeth couldn't process the statement, and it came back to her. Grants were always on her mind until they were awarded, at which point she checked them off on her spreadsheet and mentally filed them under Job Well Done. They might stick with her longer if they were especially big, but with the small grants for individual patient intake she generally forgot until her alert at the six-month mark to check the records and write a report showing progress. “Oh, right. How is she?”
“Very quiet.” Lauren sighed again. “They're always so quiet when we get them. I'm hopeful we can get down to her real personality eventually, though. Do you think you could get a second grant to bump her up to a higher level of care? I mean, they'd all benefit from more one-on-one treatment, but I just have this feeling that she'd really blossom with it.”
“I can look into it,” said Elizabeth, but it wasn’t strictly true, although not quite a lie either. The grants topped out pretty low and were a one-per-customer deal, meant to get omegas in truly dire situations out of them. This one would have to make do with the basics.
It took everything Elizabeth had to remain stoic while Lauren and Mike eagerly bounced ideas for what she could do to get slightly more involved with the omegas back and forth.
“Maybe an English lit class? Or just a book club! That would be less formal.”
“Ooh, I love it! Or what about tech skills? A lot of them don't have experience with computers.”
“That might be more useful! Although, I mean, the most useful and most hands-on thing would be to help with heats —”
“No! God, no,” Elizabeth finally said, managing not to tear at her hair. “Look, I know that we have to deal with that, but — no.” Absolutely nothing sounded like a worse time than athletically fucking an omega who couldn't say no, even if they'd timidly consented to it in advance because they knew it would be necessary, and honestly, providing aftercare didn't feel like something in her skillset. She couldn't even imagine it as anything other than sublimely awkward from start to finish. “I don't have a ton of time to devote to this. How about serving food in the cafe?”
Mike and Laurence exchanged a look. “How about you just come and eat lunch in the caf with me?” Lauren suggested after a pause. “It won't take up any time, since you'll be eating lunch anyway, and there's no responsibility to it — just chatting.” It would take up time, because Elizabeth's lunch hour was an important period for quiet recharging and not interacting with anyone, but she could begrudgingly appreciate that this was at least more beneficial to her schedule than running a weekly book club or holding Excel and Word classes.
“And that's … useful?” she asked, unable to resist checking in.
“Sure,” said Mike easily. “It's good for them to get a feel for alpha pheromones in a neutral, safe space. That'll help a ton with processing — they start to understand that alphas don't have to be abusive, all that jazz.”
Well. She hated to admit it, but that sounded like a decent point.
“Okay. Fine, I can do that. Just a few times a week, though!”
“Of course, of course! Honestly, any time you can spend with them would be good.”
“Hey, it's nearly time for lunch now,” Lauren pointed out, glancing up at the wall clock and barely concealing her eagerness. “Let's go!”
“No.” She was firm, because they were not springing this on her suddenly and upending her routine within seconds of proposing the course of action. “Tomorrow.”
“But —”
“That's fine.” Mike stepped in smoothly, giving Lauren a Look that made Elizabeth sure they'd be talking about her problematic psyche all the way to their own lunches. “We're headed out. Let you get on with all of your reports or grant letters or whatever. Get out of your hair!”
Yes, please, get out of my hair.
“See you tomorrow!” Lauren called, and then finally the two of them left, blessed quiet falling in their wake as Elizabeth began to appreciate how much she didn't want to be involved with a cafeteria full of omegas.
