Neglected omega reader who got taken care of by someone else. Nikolai or Konig. The drama ✨✨
I hope i did KorTac justice, I’ve never written them before except König lol @nightunite pspspsps i have nikto crumbs 🙏🏻
Neglected omega reader p1 + p2
KorTac had always liked you.
From the very first moment they’d met you, they’d been drawn in- pulled by the quiet gravity of your presence and the sharp edge of your competence. You were quick on your feet, sharp with a knife, steady under pressure. Smart and resourceful in a way that demanded respect.
But more than that?
You had heart.
You’d been assigned to their unit during a joint operation months ago. Just a temporary deployment, only meant to last a few weeks, but it had been long enough for them to notice things- little things they hadn’t been able to forget.
The way you’d patched König up without hesitation after a mission went sideways, hands steady even as blood slicked your fingers. The way you’d shared your rations with Horangi after a supply drop came in light, brushing off his protests with a stubborn glare. The way you’d sat quietly beside Nikto on watch, not asking questions when he didn’t feel like talking but always ready to listen when he did.
They noticed you, and they liked what they saw.
Liked the way you worked. Liked the way you took care of your team without ever expecting anything in return. Liked the way you carried yourself- confident but kind. Fierce but soft.
But you weren’t theirs. Couldn’t be.
You belonged to 141, and KorTac had backed off, unwilling to overstep boundaries when you already had a pack waiting for you at home. They’d told themselves it was fine- they were fine- watching from a distance.
But then you came back.
Alone.
Hollow-eyed and sharp-edged, moving like a ghost through the halls of the base, and suddenly?
All bets were off.
The first time König sees you in such a state, it’s in the corridor outside the mess hall.
You don’t look up when he walks by, don’t even seem to notice the sheer weight of his presence as he slows, lingering just long enough to let his shadow stretch over you. You’re leaning against the wall like you’re trying to hold yourself together, arms wrapped tight around your middle, shoulders curled inward. Small. Smaller than he’s ever seen you look before. Smaller than he’d ever thought he’d ever see you.
His instincts itch- Omega, alone, hurting- but you’re not his. And still…
His eyes track the tired slump of your shoulders, the way your clothes hang loose, like you’ve been skipping meals. He scents the air. Picks up the faded traces of peach and rose, but there’s something sour underneath- bitter and wrong, like spoiled fruit. König’s stomach twists.
It’s the scent of neglect.
You should never have looked like this. You should have never smelled like this.
Not you. Not the Omega who had once dragged him out of the line of fire without hesitation, barking orders and holding the line until reinforcements arrived. Not the Omega who had once laughed with him under a tin roof during a monsoon, eyes bright.
The smell lingers after he walks away, clinging to the back of his throat like smoke. But it’s the emptiness of it- the hollowness- that keeps him awake that night, staring at the ceiling and wondering which one of those 141 bastards let their Omega rot like this.
The next time König sees you, it’s in the armory.
You’re cataloging weapons, checking and re-checking the tags with mechanical precision, but your hands shake when you reach for the next one. Just a little. Just enough for him to notice.
König moves closer. Quiet, but not too quiet- he doesn’t want to startle you. You don’t look up until his shadow stretches over your workbench, and when you do, the look in your eyes hits him like a gut-punch.
Flat. Guarded. Resigned.
Like you’re expecting him to scold you.
König’s heart cracks wide open. He grips the edge of the table just to keep from reaching out.
“Doing good work.” He says softly, and you just blink.
It’s such a small thing- barely even a compliment- but your throat bobs like you’re swallowing something down. Then you duck your head and go back to your task, not looking at him again.
But you don’t flinch.
Not this time.
Nikto is next, and he doesn’t hesitate.
He remembers you. Remembers the way you’d stood shoulder to shoulder with him in the rain, eyes scanning the horizon with sharp focus as you both waited for the enemy to make their move.
You hadn’t been scared. Not even a little.
And now?
He catches you outside the rec room, sitting on the stairs with your knees drawn up to your chest. You don’t even react when he approaches, just keep staring at the floor like it might swallow you whole.
Now, you look like you’re drowning.
So Nikto doesn’t hesitate. He doesn’t say anything. Just crouches down beside you and sets a cup of coffee at your feet before walking away.
You stare at it for almost five minutes before finally picking it up.
The next morning, he does it again. Same cup. Same coffee. Same wordless offering.
It becomes a routine- something quiet and steady, something you can rely on when everything else feels too heavy.
And then there’s Horangi, who pushes the hardest.
He pushes, because he knows you can take it.
You had before- back when you’d yelled at him for ignoring orders and running off alone, eyes blazing as you shoved him back toward the evac point. He’d liked your fire back then, liked the way you didn’t back down even when he towered over you.
But now?
Now your fire’s gone out, and there’s only one group to blame.
So Horangi pushes. Tests the waters, pokes at the edges, trying to find the spark he knows is still there. He is the loudest of the three, sharp and quick with his words, but he also knows when to keep them soft. He finds you cleaning your gear one night and sits down beside you without asking.
“You missed dinner.” He says casually, pulling out a protein bar and tossing it onto your lap. Pushing past the bubble you’ve wrapped around yourself, yet not being overbearing or too much.
You open your mouth to argue, but he cuts you off.
“I’m not your Alpha,” he says with a shrug. “You don’t have to listen to me.”
You close your mouth. Look down at the protein bar. Then, without a word, you tear it open and take a bite.
Horangi grins. And just like that, he’s in.
And when you finally- finally- smile at one of his jokes?
He knows he’s got you.
141 starts noticing the shift almost immediately. Soap catches König lingering near you in the gym, eyes following the curve of your spine as you stretch, and something inside him snaps.
Ghost sees Nikto brush his fingers against yours when he hands you something, and his jaw clenches so tight he can hear his teeth grind.
Price overhears Horangi making you laugh- a real, honest-to-God laugh, a sound he can’t hear any longer even in his dreams- and has to excuse himself before he says something he can’t take back.
It gets worse when your scent starts to change; the bitterness fades first, then the sourness.
The first time Price catches a hint of warmth blooming underneath, it stops him dead in his tracks.
Because it isn’t for him. It isn’t for them.
It’s even worse to know that they drove you to it, and have no one to blame but themselves.
They let you fall through the cracks. Let the weight of their own issues and distractions leave you stranded in the dark, too far away for them to pull you back when they finally noticed you were gone.
And now? Now KorTac is picking up the pieces, with no hesitation.
König steadies you. Makes sure you eat, makes sure you rest, makes sure you feel safe even when the world outside is crumbling. Doesn’t push you away when you, big hand lingering on the curve of your spine until his scent is left there.
Nikto grounds you. Offers quiet comfort without demands, without expectations. Makes sure you know he’s there, always there, steady and unshakable. A lighthouse in the stormy seas, the hand that pulls you out of the swirling ocean.
Horangi pushes and pushes. Draws out smiles and laughter, reminds you what it feels like to be wanted. Finds excuses to bump shoulders or brush against you when you pass, just to see if you’ll let him.
And you do. You let all of them, slowly greeting them with the quietest little purr (cat activation noise).
Because it’s easier to be wanted by them than it is to be unwanted by your own pack.
And slowly- so slowly it hurts- you start to come back to life; your scent changes. Softens. Warms. The bitterness fades and the sourness disappears.
And all they can do is only watch as König takes the space they abandoned. As Nikto feeds the hunger they ignored. As Horangi brings back the fire they let burn out.
And they can’t do a damn thing about it.
Because the truth is- KorTac wanted you from the start, and now that they’ve got you?
They’re never letting go.
