Inspired by this lovely bit @silverlullabies gifted us.
Omega!reader who accepted a long time ago that their scent is disgusting because it reminds people of blood and gunpowder.
It might have been acceptable for an alpha but not for an omega. How would you ever be able to soothe your pups with this kind of violent scent? Nothing sweet or calming about you. You had to wear blockers from a young age because your scent was disturbing for others. When you entered the military you quickly learned that you could cause flashbacks with your scent and it had been used against prisoners more than once until you couldn't take it anymore. It left you broken in ways you didn't even fully understand, all you knew was that alphas either found you disgusting, disturbing or they were panicking, because all their instincts screamed 'wounded omega' once they got so much as a whiff of you.
You adapted. Scent blockers and suppressants, special mandatory leave once a year to go through a heat, so you could avoid long term affects on your health. Although you hoped secretly that your body would finally give up the craving for a mate and pups. You would never have that and you found it ridiculous to keep pretending otherwise.
So you grow cold. They call you ice princess. You don't object. You learn to use your scent like a weapon, a tool. Best decoy on the field to lure the enemy to the injured omega, only to find a deadly surprise. Easy to slip into shelters and hospitals. You are very specialised and the professional praise you get has to be enough to feed your twisted omega side.
When you join a mission with the 141 you don't expect it to be any different. You tell them they don't need to know your scent, but they insist, so they know what to prepare for and not get confused. Fair enough.
And of course you are not surprised by the looks of pity and sadness Gaz and Soap give you when they realise the reason why you use the thick patches and never participate in friendly scenting
What you are absolutely unprepared for is the way Ghost takes a deep breath, then another and then growls when Price calls him back. He doesn't move. Instead he grabs you, holds you close and presses his nose to your scent glands like an addict.
And you have no idea what to do because you can feel his length and a knot building, pressed against your hip. Hands that hold you but in a way that feels protective. And your brain screaming alpha alpha alpha at you.
Something about alpha!141 becoming free use during omega!reader's heat....
After realizing just how exhausting keeping up with an SAS trained omega is alone, the team came to the agreement of simply...moving in to price's house for the two weeks surrounded the lead up and come down of your heat.
The paperwork comes with, of course, they all still have jobs to do while you're on heat leave. But if you decide to interrupt said paperwork to ride gaz all evening...then that's simply how it is.
An omega with free reign of the home, not confined to a nest...it only feels a little bit like you're hunting them for sport.
Sometimes you end up dragging ghost to the nest all day, sometimes you're hopping between all of them. If you beg real sweetly and push your scent, you can convince gaz and ghost to fuck eachother while you get off on the show.
With the combined efforts of all of them, they can barely scrape by your heat intact. It's fine...you'll repay them when their ruts sync up, after all.
a dark!a/b/o universe where omegas are kept mostly in breeding/selling facilities for alphas.
they don’t even see the light of day — every omega is kept underground.
so how does one get bought, you say?
candles.
goddamn candles.
each facility will get the scent of their omegas to make candles as a ‘selling point’ for each one, in order to keep them as ‘pure’ as possible. the only time these omegas interact with an alpha is when they’ve finally been bought.
a cruel design to send them into heat as soon as they come within the scent field of the alpha who’s just bought them.
so, of course, ghost goes down to these facilities quite frequently to scent the candles, waiting until he finds one that makes his eyes roll back. the workers always know what he’s there for, and point him to the new batches.
new omegas.
it’s been happening for months now, so he was expecting just another trip of subpar scents before going home—
until he smells your scent.
he freezes, reading the description on the candle, before thrusting it into the worker’s hand.
“get ‘em,” he grunts, pawing at his mask that now felt incredibly suffocating and hot on his face and neck.
poor you has no idea what you’re in for.
and yes, simon absolutely lights the candle while he’s pounding into you every which way, both of you deep into your respective ruts/heats🙂↕️
AN: i feel like ghost is one of those alphas who’s so obsessed w you he gets a rash if he’s not in you. send tweet
Just because you’re an omega doesn’t mean you can’t perform at the level of the rest of the 141.
You, and various other omegas, have proven this time and time again. It was a battle to let omegas into the military, but now that you’re here it’s clear you have a lot to offer.
That doesn’t mean things aren’t different, though. Of course, every new person is going to do things slightly differently or need certain accommodations. In the way that some alphas can’t be on the same team because they’ll clash too much, or how rut leave needs to be approved. Same thing for omegas.
For you…whenever you land in a new place, you needed a moment to familiarize yourself, and if you needed to stay for a while…well you’d need a makeshift nest.
All omegas rely on nesting for regulation. Not just for themselves but also their pack. Some rely on it more than others, though.
You’re one such omega…someone who needs a nest. It was something you considered when joining the military, and something you’ve often had to suppress in yourself for the sake of the mission. It got to the point where you needed to get on scent suppressants because you’d be on mission without a nest and distress so much that the enemy could smell you.
That’s how the first mission with the 141 went. Suppressing your needs and distressing because of it, but holding it together for the mission (or trying to).
But of course they noticed. They notice everything. So they broached the topic.
“…you can nest, ‘mega.” Kyle decided to just go for it.
You stopped your pacing in front of the window of the safe house, arms folded across your chest. You turn your head to look at him to find him just…looking at you. Like he was serious. A quick glance at the others tell you no one was making a joke.
“…really?” Your arms unfold, body turning to face them completely. Still looking back and forth between them all, waiting for one of them to tell you they were kidding.
“‘Course you can. We’ll be holed up here for a few more hours. You can use our jackets.” Price verifies, tossing a hand behind him to indicate to where you all threw your jackets down. He turns back to the notebook he’s scribbling in like it’s no big deal.
You eagerly take a step forward before stopping yourself. Is this a test? Is he trying to see if you’re a liability? Omegas obviously calm down in nests and some people are of the opinion it would make them vulnerable in the field…maybe he’s trying to see if you’ll crack?
“You…don’t think it’s unprofessional?”
Price’s brows furrow and his nose scrunches up like he just smelled something bad, “what’re you on about? ‘S natural.”
“Bug, did someone tell ya you couldn’t nest in the field?” Soap leans forward, forearms resting in his knees. He caught on immediately.
“I—“ you’re confused now, “I thought…that was protocol?”
That gets everyone to look at you. It’s silent for a moment before they all start talking at once, overlapping voices talking about how that was not true and omegas need to nest and the scent you’ll release during the nesting will make them all more alert.
“What dumb fuck told you that?” Ghost speaks up.
It shuts everyone up. They want to know too.
“My old captain…” you meekly admit.
They don’t respond again. You see Price’s jaw tick like he’s offended at how your previous captain conducted himself.
“Use the jackets.” Simon shuts down the conversation. “You can relax. We got you.” He leaves no room for argument.
You believe him…that they’d protect you if it came down to it.
So you resume your walk to the pile, feeling a bit confused still about why your two captains were so different. And a bit bad about commandeering everyone’s jackets. It was…intimate…to make a nest from their scents. Especially considering this was your first mission together. But you didn’t exactly have any other material, and you suppose you’ll need to familiarize yourself with them eventually. So you get to work.
Again…there isn’t much to work with, but you end up shoving the jackets together on the rickety sofa along with a pillow you scrounged up and one of the threadbare blankets from a long-abandoned linen closet. It’s…not good but it’s something. And even just the act of putting a nest together is soothing you. And…you do like their scents. 
“Good job, ‘mega.” Comes Simon’s low tone, meant just for you.
You suppress a smile and happy hum. That shouldn’t make you as satisfied as it does—him complimenting your fucked up, makeshift nest that is objectively the worst nest you’ve ever made—but it does.
You relax fast. Calm, happy scent flooding the room, making the rest of the pack team more calm and alert too.
When it’s time to go, they bring you out of your trance gently. Kyle crouching down next to you and whispering your name, giving your shoulder a little shake. You pack up quick, giving everyone’s jackets back. They try to be subtle about how they inhale your scent off of them.
You finish the rest of the mission like normal, but not before Price asks for the name of your old captain.
You’re used to it now, and so are they. Any mission where you’re out on the field for an extended period, you’ll nest with whatever you can get your hands on. More often than not, that involves a lot of their clothes. It’s far better than ignoring your instincts, and you know that they’re capable enough to mean you aren’t a liability. Maybe you can convince one of them to nest with you next time…
Alpha!Nikolai, inviting alpha!John and pack to come to his cabin after a mission. John agreeing, gathering alpha!Simon, omega!Johnny, and beta!Kyle, up and heading out into the Russian countryside.
Who get inside and seated, only to see an omega!reader walk into the kitchen.
"You have an omega?" John asked, surprised the old bastard never mentioned.
Nikolai not looking away from the TV. "Da."
"And... how did you get an omega?" John asked slowly.
"Came home from deployment. They were curled in my bed." Nikolai shrugged.
"And you just... kept them?" Kyle pipped up.
"They're pretty, chose me, and well stabbed me when I tried to make them leave." Nikolai replied.
The room went silent, Simon’s brow lifting, Johnny choking on a laugh, Kyle mouthing stabbed? while John stared like Nikolai had completely lost his mind.
"Right," John muttered, rubbing his face. "And aren’t they a little young for you?"
"They're of age." Nikolai said, as if that was the least debatable thing in the world.
"That’s not..Nikolai, you can’t just keep an omega because they wandered into your house," John tried again, tone edging into command. "Come on, sweetheart, let’s get you home—"
The moment he stepped closer, you bared your teeth, lunged, and sank them right into John’s hand. He jerked back with a shout as you bolted across the room, scrambling into Nikolai’s lap like a territorial wildcat, growling low and mean.
"What the hell?!" John snapped as he looked at the bite mark. The omega having broken skin. "Is that thing even an omega?"
"More like feral animal. Which you may want to check that for rabies. I have gotten it tested yet." Nik said nonchalantly. Then he moved and wrapped an arm around you, his fingers runnung up and down your spine in a soothing motion. "Hush, milaya, you're no going anywhere."
"And i thought Johnny was feral." Simon muttered under his breath.
Being an omega and an enemy combatant, running into alpha!soap in a confined area
He’s got the bulk to knock you flat on your ass after a few grueling minutes that feel like a lifetime. No matter, you’ve done more with less before— his neck is unprotected, so you crane your neck and open your mouth, ready to gore him.
You’ve done it before. No big deal. But you don’t anticipate the groan-turned-chuckle and the growing hard-on pressing against your gut. Your brain freezes for a split second— enough for him to pry a gloved hand between your jaws and his arteries and yank you off. So now he’s only slightly maimed rather than dead. He turns his head to see the blood drip from your mouth before slamming his forehead into yours, your head thunking against the floor. It gives him just enough time to zip tie your wrists and throw you over his shoulder right as he gets a message in his earpiece to head back.
He earns no end of side-eye when he meets with the rest of the 141, his neck noticeably mutilated while his blood is smeared from the tip of your nose to the bottom on your chin, and steadily dripping down to stain the collar of your uniform. Soap looks pleased as punch. You’re visibly bristling and breathing through gritted teeth.
“Ye all laughed, said it’d never happen, but guess who found themselves a pretty little omega? Didn’t even have to buy ‘er a drink,” he announces with a puffed chest. “Got a bonnie little nip ta prove it n’ everythin’.” He’s practically purring like a contented cat while he guides you by your restraints to the back of the jeep. Once they’re sat inside and on the road, Ghost takes a handful of bills from his vest pocket and counts them.
“50 quid says the omega kills him before the staph infection does”
alpha!jack abbot x omega!fem!reader. a/b/o au and dynamics, references to omega discrimination, scenting, instincts, penetrative sex, fingering, sex at work, power imbalance, brat taming, praise, possessiveness, unprotected sex.
word count: 2.4k
a/n: I dont feel great about this one tbh... i dont think i captured the dynamic quite as well as i'd hoped to. but hopefully ya'll enjoy :')
Jack’s really not sure what your problem is.
You’re stubborn, headstrong, overly ambitious, and oftentimes just shy of rude. All of which are things Jack has come to expect from omegas after years of working with them in such a high-stakes environment— most take on an overly-harsh exterior to counteract the stigma they face. It’s a survival mechanism, a necessary precaution in order to be taken seriously and have any chance of success in a profession that’s dominated by alphas and deals with countless assholes day in and day out.
Jack doesn’t begrudge them. He knows that working in the Pitt— or in emergency medicine, or in any medical setting, for that matter— isn’t easy for omegas. He tries to keep that in mind and act accordingly. He works hard to foster a good work environment for everyone on his crew.
He likes to think he does a halfway decent job. And, seemingly, most of the omegas that have passed through his supervision over the years would agree. Once they see how he runs things they usually start to let their guards down a bit. They stop entering every situation with their teeth bared and hackles raised. They speak their minds with confidence rather than nervous aggression. They accept his teaching without assuming he’s trying to undermine them.
They even start to give in to their instincts a bit, without fear that he’ll think of them as weak or take advantage of their vulnerability. They allow themselves to preen under his praise, submit under his command, and settle under his comfort.
Not you. You’ve been here for 3 months now and he can still feel your eyes tracking him through every room like you’re waiting for him to pounce. You still respond to everything he asks through clenched teeth, like you’re bracing for backlash that never comes. You still roll your eyes at every one of his jokes and question every one of his orders.
Tonight is no different. If Jack took a shot every time you rolled your eyes, scowled, or talked back to him, his name would be up on the patient board.
He should find it infuriating. Part of him— the most basic, primitive part— does. You give him the urge to snap his teeth and growl, make you show him some respect.
The rest of Jack finds you… interesting. Exciting. Jack loves a challenge, and you pose a very fun one. He’s determined to figure you out.
Jack tracks you down after shift change. He finds you in the empty room of the last patient you discharged. You’re hunched over your rolling computer cart, finishing up some charting.
When he walks in you look startled, then cornered, then extremely irritated.
“You know, I came in here for some peace and quiet.”
“Do you have some kind of problem with me?” Jack asks, choosing to ignore your snide greeting. You eye him for a moment, like you’re deciding whether you want to tell the truth or not. He raises a brow and waits.
“You clearly don’t trust me with the patients.” You eventually say, stony. Not true. “You’re always— hovering. Like you’re waiting for me to slip up. But I’m not gonna slip up”
Anxiety and vulnerability roll off you in waves, souring your scent. When Jack smells it he desperately aches to soften. To gather you in his arms and rumble out assurances. I know you won’t, little omega. You do such a good job. You’re so good. It takes everything in him to stifle the urge.
“I’m your attending,” he says calmly, careful to keep his voice even. “It’s kinda my job to keep an eye on you. Y’know, to attend.”
Your eyes narrow. “You’re not my attending.” You grind out the words, and maybe Jack’s reading into it, but you sound… bitter? Jealous? “You and Shen are the attendings. Supervising me isn’t your personal little pet project.”
“You want it to be?”
You look taken aback. Just for a second. Jack can’t help but revel in it– you’re not easy to shake.
“I just want you to fuck off and stop breathing down my neck so I can actually do my job!”
Jack doesn’t respond for a moment. He barely manages to stifle his surprise at the fact that an omega just, essentially, cursed him out and spat in his face. He stares down his nose at you, intentionally allowing the silence to feel thick. Studying you.
He sees you catch on. You straighten up, even puff out your chest a bit, trying to look strong and sure and unbothered.
It’s a good attempt, he’ll give you that. You’d have plenty of alphas fooled.
But Jack catches the way your head tilts back for just an instant like you’re about to bare your throat. Sees the flash of doubt in your eyes, like your instincts are begging you to just give this up already, roll over, and show him your belly. Oh. That’s new. He feels his cock swell.
“Yeah? You want me to fuck off?” He lets his voice drop an octave. You make a choked, barely-there sound that he’d like to call a whimper. Your scent shifts sweeter.
Jack steps towards you, big and slow and imposing, and is surprised again when you don’t back up. Ballsy little thing.
“You know what I think?” His voice is smooth, low, almost a purr. Dripping with alpha condescension.
Jack sees your throat bob as you swallow. You just glare up at him without a word, and he knows it's because you don’t trust your voice not to waver. He smirks.
“I’ll tell you, sweetheart.” He watches you shiver. He’s so close now that he’s almost touching you. “I think you know that I’m good at what I do. I think you respect me. Maybe even like me a little. And all this attitude you give me…” he raises a brow and leans down, letting his breath fan over your face, “Is you trying to overcompensate for the fact that what you really want is to be bent over and put in your place.”
It’s bold, Jack realizes. Might be too much. Could make you turn tail, but he doubts it. You’re braver than that.
He watches you stiffen. There’s a flash of blatant hunger in your eyes— bingo— but it’s quickly snuffed out by stubborn defiance.
“I’m not just some needy ommie who’ll give it up to any alpha with a pulse.” Your voice only wavers a little.
“Oh, I know.” Jack nods. He feels, looks, and smells painfully smug. His voice is like velvet. “But you’ll give it up to me, won’t you?”
That breaks you. You practically collapse in on yourself, all small, and breathe out an involuntary “alpha.”
“There it is.” Jack coos. The praise makes you preen, and you extend your neck, baring your throat for Jack to brush his lips against. You smell fucking delicious. “Sweet little omega. You don’t have to fight it.”
“You’re such a douchebag.” You bite out. Sure, it’s weak and shaky, but it impresses Jack regardless. He has his nose pressed against your gland and you’re still talking back.
“Ooh, you don’t quit.” He rumbles. He pulls back slightly, his big hand coming up to cup the side of your neck. His eyes rake shamelessly down your body, not even trying to hide his desire. He’s sure you can smell it on him anyway. “What’s it gonna take, baby? Do you need my cock inside you to finally start behaving yourself?”
“You tell me, Abbot.” You sneer. “What’s it gonna take, in your professional opinion?”
Jack smiles, challenging and predatory in a way that would make most omegas wither. But not you. Your lip curls up, showing off cute little canines. He can’t help but groan and grind down against your abdomen.
“Fuck, baby.” Jack growls. “So cute when you act all tough.” He grips around your hip with a big hand and backs you up against the hospital bed while the other works hastily at the waistband of your scrubs. Once he has them loosened, he shoves his hand right down the front of your panties.
The second he gets his fingers inside you, you melt. Slick practically pours onto his hand. The strong, heady scent of it is overwhelming. It makes his nostrils flare.
If the way you’re squirming around on the bed and whining incoherently tells him anything, it’s that he’s not gonna need to get his cock involved to make you behave. The realization hits him like a truck, right through to his ego.
“There you go, little omega. You like that?” He taunts.
You nod, finally eager and obedient. It’s like a victory after all the fight you’ve given him. Jack didn’t know that submission from an omega could feel quite this good. It usually comes too easy.
“Yeah. Good girl. I’ve got you, sweetheart. Let me take care of you.”
“D-Dr. Abbot— alpha— please.”
You sound fucking broken and Jack can’t stand it. His instincts whir— make her happy, make her feel good, fill her up.
“I’ve got you.” He repeats in the low, steady voice he reserves for omegas in distress. He pulls his fingers out of you, and it’s only so he can free his cock from his scrubs, but you whine anyway.
“Fuck— hurry up.”
“Shh. Easy.” Jack murmurs. His free hand reaches up, intending to stroke soothingly across your cheek— but he has to yank it away when you turn your head and nip at his fingers like a kitten. Fucking brat.
“Settle down.” He growls. The tone squeezes you tight, wrings out any fight you have left. You’re left lax on the bed below him– boneless, pliant, willing. Good, his alpha purrs. “That’s better. Just take what I give you.”
Jack slides his hard cock through your slit once, coating it in your slick, before he pushes into you.
You feel like heaven— the hottest, wettest, tightest fucking pussy he’s ever had. And the sound you make when he stretches you. That high pitched, keening moan of pleasure. Jack wants to bottle that sound.
“Good omega.” He purrs, leaning down to press hot kisses along the column of your neck. He’s possessed by the need to ensure you smell like him for days.
You arch into it, exposing your throat further, pushing your hips down on his cock.
“You feel so fucking good. You were made for this.”
You whine at that, and Jack can see your mind wrestling with the sentiment despite the way it makes your pussy gush and your instincts sing.
Jack hushes you. “It’s okay.” He holds you still by your hip and litters more wet, soothing kisses across your jaw. “There’s nothin’ wrong with it, sweet girl. Let yourself enjoy this.”
“Abbot—“ when you say it, Jack can’t stifle his choked laugh— “feels so good.”
“Call me Jack, baby, my fuckin’ dick’s inside you.” He shakes his head before he briefly connects his lips with yours. “Jesus. I woulda done this ages ago if I knew you wanted it this bad.”
His cock sponges over your g-spot and his tip kisses your cervix with every thrust. He can feel you getting close— your pussy’s clenching, you’re whimpering louder, slick is dripping down your thighs and onto the bed below. Your hands grapple desperately at his freckled sides, arms, and shoulders, nails leaving indented crescents in their wake.
“Come on, sweet omega.” Jack purrs in your ear. His hand finds your breast so he can thumb circles on your nipple as further encouragement. He fucks into you relentlessly. “I want you to cum for me. Milk my cock.”
“Jack— Alpha— fuck.” You sound broken as your orgasm washes over you. You shake below him on the table— lips parted, brows furrowed, eyes locked on his. Jack growls.
“There you go, that’s it. You’re so good.” He means it more than he’s ever meant anything. You’re so fucking good. You look good, you smell good, you feel good, you sound good. Jack’s not gonna last much longer. “You’re such a good omega.”
“Yours,” You keen— and fuck, you’re still cumming. “Your omega.”
“Mine.” Jack nods. His hips falter. “My good girl. Doing so well for your alpha.”
Jack lets his teeth ghost over your mating bond, grazing the tender, unbroken skin there.
The whimpery sound you let out sends him over the edge. His hips snap forward one more time and he spills inside you with a long, low groan. It takes everything in him to hold back and not bite you right then.
“Babygirl,” Jack grits out once he can speak, breathless. Your walls are still fluttering around his softening cock. “You’re fucking incredible.”
You don’t say anything. He lifts his head from the crook of your neck. “Hey. Look at me. You okay?”
“Jack…” you murmur. You’re looking at him like he hung the moon and the stars, and he feels like he could start glowing. Still, your scent sours with uncertainty. “Jesus, this is— we shouldn’t have—“
“Why not?”
“This is completely unprofessional—“
Jack scoffs. “Yeah, doll, we’re well past that.”
“This is exactly what I’ve been trying to avoid!” Your voice is raised. “And you make it very difficult!”
You’re clearly dismayed, and Jack shouldn’t grin, but he does.
“Do I?” Jack leans down to nose against the gland on your neck again. He smells only himself there, mingling with your scent, and goddamn he could get hard again. His tongue darts out to soothe over the area, and you melt. “Do I make it hard for you to conduct yourself?” He lets a mocking lilt bleed into his tone. “Is that why you insist on being such a pain in my ass all the time?”
“Don’t be mean.” You grumble. You're trying, and failing, to maintain your contempt. The words come out far too pleading.
“Attagirl. Now you’re getting it.” Jack coos. He leans down and gives you a kiss. “If you want me to be sweet on you then all you have to do is ask.”
You scowl at him. You still smell anxious, and that won't do at all.
Jack's expression softens. He deepens his scent to match, radiating protective reassurance. "Everything's gonna be okay, doll. I'll make sure of it."
You know how it all works. At least, you think you know how it all works.
"Feel that?" Ghost asks, his cock stretches you out almost painfully, and still you can feel most pressing against your entrance. Your stomach is full of him, your cervix nudged by the head of his fat cock as it finds a home buried deep inside. You shake your head against the pillows with a whine, your hips twitching as his hands pull your ass apart, kneading the soft flesh with rough callused fingers. "Feel that knot pressin' against ya so nicely?" His voice is shot, croaking with how rough it hits your ear. Your eyes roll as your lashes flutter, the heat of his words dripping down your spine liquor thick.
Your cunt throbs, pulses with needy pleasure as it squeezes tight around him. You want to touch, to reach a hand between you and stroke the hardened bud that seems to glow with heat. You want to feel over your stomach, see if he presses against you as heavily as you think, perhaps you could find his hard cock beneath all your softness. The thought sends a shiver through you. Libidinous desire isn't befitting of a princess.
And yet, Ghost circles his hips, grinding his knot against your entrance, and you feel that liquid desire drip from you. Hot and slick. You feel it like a fever drenching your skin, sticky with sweat and yearning.
"Let me in Princess," Ghost murmurs, leaning to press his weight against your back, "Lemme breed this li'le pussy, bet I get it my first try." The curve of his smile as his lips skate over your neck makes a whine bubble in your throat, deep and needy as the punch of his cock. "Can even help the process," he offers, lips parting to tease his teeth against the soft spot where your mating gland lies.
"Please-"
Your whimpered word jerks you awake. Sweat dampens the bed beneath you, the sheets sticking to your skin as your breath shudders through your chest. Fever blazes through your body, the air the tickles your skin is frigid and uncomfortable, and you gather the damp blankets back around you. Your thighs are wet with slick and your core pulses with sick desire. A cramp tightens in your stomach painfully, and you curl into yourself. You want Ghost, but heats aren't the time to be playing the lovesick fool.
