#alpha!john

[crashdevlin]

Appointment in Samarra

Author’s Note: This is part Thirty of The Best Laid Plans series

Summary: Dean goes to Death in an effort to save Sam. Everything falls apart from there.

Pairing: Alpha!Dean x Omega!Reader

Word count: 4018

Story Warnings:  angst...A/B/O dynamics, canon divergence, mentions of physical violence against the reader, Sam is a douchebag because no soul, there's some drugs in the mix but not recreationally

~~~

"Are you out of your goddamn mind?" you asked, watching Dean toss his bag into the back of the Impala.

"No. This is the right call, Y/n."

"Ya know, I could kinda support working for a demon to get Sam's soul back, and I could kinda see working with another one to get him back for you, but Death? Really?" You slammed your hand on the driver's door to stop him from opening it and driving away. "You want to kill yourself to call a reaper in the hopes of getting ahold of-"

"Of the only Horseman who cared about setting shit back to normal after Lucifer popped out? Yeah! You got a problem with that, Y/n?" Dean snapped.

"Yes! I do. Death does not owe you a favor! Death is fucking Death! You're really gonna ask him to save Sam?! He's part of why Sam ended up in the Cage in the first damn place!"

"Sam ended up-" Dean shook his head and grabbed your wrist. "Come with me or don't."

You pulled your hand back and crossed your arms over your chest. "I'm not going to watch you die to save Sam again."

"Then I'll see you when I got Sam back."

You watched him drive away until you couldn’t see the taillights anymore.

"He just won't let it go." Sam's voice made you jump and turn to find him leaning against the motel door. "Even after both Cas and Crowley said my soul is probably shredded, he still wants to put it-"

"We've done Hell, Sam. If we could live with it, then you-"

"Shouldn't have to. After everything I've been through, you really think I deserve-"

You rolled your eyes and pulled out the motel key. "You don't get to make that decision, Sam. You chose to die. After everything, you chose to die. Someone brought you back. You don't get to decide that you don't have to feel it."

"You know I could kill you without giving it a second thought, and you still have the balls to talk to me like that?"

You pushed the key into the lock and twisted it, looking over your shoulder at him as you pushed the door open. "You could have killed me a hundred times. You don’t have the balls to go through with it."

"Omega, stop," he growled, and your body stopped in its tracks. Sam's arm wrapped around your chest and yanked you back into his body. Fear flooded you as you tried to resist the Voice. "You forget how easy I could turn you into exactly what you've been trying not to be. A few simple words in the right tone, and you're fucking putty. You wanna act all big and bad, but without Dean and Dad around to stop me, you are just another weak little omega who doesn't know her place. I could mark you all over again if-"

"I will cut you out of me again if you try," you promised.

"Not if I took you somewhere secret and locked you up. Knocked you up. Leave you naked and pregnant, just like an omega's supposed to be."

"You're gonna hate yourself for this shit when Dean gets your soul back," you growled out as John's voice rang out across the parking lot.

"The hell's wrong with you?! Let 'er go!" John's scent enveloped you as his hand wrapped around your upper arm and pulled you from Sam's grasp. "What, as soon as your brother drives away, you take a stab at Y/n? You might not have a soul, but you know better than to take another alpha's-"

"She doesn't belong to him. I don't have a soul, and that's why I can see this for what it is: a lovesick omega following around an alpha who might love her with everything in him but will never make her his because he will never take away her escape hatch." Your heart fell into your stomach at Sam's words. Why did they have to seem so fucking accurate? "She's gonna die waiting for him," Sam finished before walking away and jumping into the back of John's truck.

"He doesn't mean that. He's just tryin' to hurt you. Dean loves you, girl."

"Yeah, I know...but…” You smiled up at John and shrugged. “Sam’s not wrong. He’s an asshole, but he’s not wrong, John. Dean’s never going to mark me. I’ve made my peace with that.”

“You can’t have. You’re-”

You patted his shoulder and reached down to pick up your duffel bag from inside the door. “One day, I’m gonna go into heat, and I’m not gonna be able to come down. The fever is gonna boil my brain, and my organs are gonna shut down, and it’ll be because Dean wanted to give me the opportunity to find an Alpha better than him. I know that. I know that’s how I’m gonna go out. More than Dean knows he’s gonna go out on a hunt someday. I have made my peace. Because I have his love, I don’t need his mark.” You laughed a little sadly and looked into his eyes. “Tell me you feel anything else in me.”

“It’s not fair,” he said, eventually.

“Life never is.” You walked past him and climbed into the cab of the truck, your bag at your feet.

~~~~

"Death agreed to get his soul back?” John asked, shaking his head.

“Yeah.” Dean nodded. “I got him to agree to go down and pluck-”

“You what?!” Sam exploded.

“Just hear me out,” Dean implored.

“I heard Cas and Crowley when they said it would either kill me or turn me to Jell-o, Dean! I heard enough!”

“Death said he can put up a wall.”

“A wall?”

“Yes. Yes, a wall that--that, basically, you wouldn’t remember Hell.”

You rolled your eyes at the idea that Sam would get away without any of the damage of Hellfire.

“Really?”

“Really,” Dean confirmed.

“For good? Like a cure?”

Dean looked over to you, Bobby, and John. “No, it’s not a cure. It...he said it could last a lifetime.”

“Great. So, playin’ pretty fast and loose with my life here, don’t you think, Dean?”

“I’m trying to save your life!”

“Exactly, Dean! It’s my life! It’s my life, it’s my soul...and it sure as hell ain’t your head that’s gonna explode when this whole scheme of yours goes sideways!” Sam exclaimed.

You shook your head and stood. “Here’s a question. Death isn’t really the type to just do this kind of major thing out of the goodness of his Horseman heart. What’s on the line on your end, Dean?”

Sam looked like he hadn’t even considered it, but Bobby and John both leaned forward as Dean looked away, uncomfortable. “Sorry, we didn’t get that,” Bobby urged.

“I have to wear the ring for a day,” Dean answered.

“Why the hell would he want you to do that?” Bobby asked.

“Get his rocks off. I don’t know. But I’m doin’ it.” Sam scoffed and started to walk out of the study. “Where you goin’?” Dean asked.

“Look, I hear you, all right? I get it. I just need a minute to wrap my head around it, all right?”

You watched as Sam grabbed his jacket and disappeared out the door into the salvage yard. “You know he went to-”

“Yeah,” Dean interrupted, before patting his pocket. “Way ahead of ‘im.”

You looked up into his eyes and licked your lips. “Okay. So...Death for a day, huh?”

“Gonna try to talk me out of it?”

“Nope.” You leaned against Bobby’s desk and shrugged. “I’d never win.”

“Damn right.” Dean grabbed his jacket and slipped it on as he headed out the door, Bobby following him.

John stayed behind. “Wow. I can’t even imagine doing Death’s job.”

You licked your lips and looked over at the bookshelf. “I can. I’ve...I’ve had long conversations with Hades and Charon about...reaping...death.” You scoffed and spun to grab a book. “It’s so unfair. I remember...I remember Hell. I remember the Underworld. I remember the torture and the fear and the hopelessness and Sam...Sam gets to forget. How unfair.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Yeah.” You flipped open the book and looked down at a classical drawing of Hades. “Life’s unfair.”

~~~~

Your bed seemed too soft. The pillows hurt your neck. You stared at the ceiling above you but it didn’t matter. No sleep would come with Dean playing Death and Sam...somewhere. You turned on your side and looked across the room.

Dean would do anything for that jerk. Sam had been horrible to you in so many ways. With his soul, without his soul, on demon blood, sober...none of it seemed to really matter. Sam could do anything and Dean would still risk life and limb for him.

“Sam’s back. Wouldn’t tell us where he went,” Bobby said, stepping into your doorway.

“Doesn’t matter. When Dean gets back, everything will go back to how it used to be...which will be...just fine, I suppose.”

"You don't really sound too keen on that, girl."

You sat up and shrugged. "Sam has been...five different kinds of...he hasn't really respected me in a long time, Bobby. He went off to Stanford, became a 'normal' jerk, and forgot who he was...forgot who I was. Every once in a while, I'll get a glimmer of the old Sam but...the surface Sam...even when he has a soul...when we get him back…"

"Then maybe you shouldn't be with them boys anymore, Y/n." You rolled your eyes and looked away. "No, I know. You love Dean. We all know you love Dean but look at it clear." Bobby stepped in and kneeled down in front of you. "You can always love again. There is an alpha out there that'll love you every bit of what Dean does, who will mark you and not leave you twisted like this...who won't leave you to die...who won't pick his brother over you. Those boys are family and I love 'em, you know I do, but Dean will always put Sam ahead of everythin' else and Sam will always kinda feel like you shoulda been his."

You shook your head. "Bobby, you can’t lecture me about all the fish in the sea." You looked away and focused on the clock on your side table. "You never remarried. You don't date. You found your love and you have-"

"That's not the same thing. What happened to...my wife, it was traumatic...and it ain't like there's a lot of women my age who'd understand my life."

"And who is gonna understand my life, huh?" You stood and leaned against your dresser as Bobby stood. "No one would. Not even other hunters."

"Well, maybe you don't go fer a hunter this time, Y/n." Bobby's words made your eyebrows come together in confusion. "Yer daddy didn't want you in this life. He didn't want you with some asshole hunter alpha and he didn't-"

"It's too late! We already fucked that up years ago and-" You interrupted but Bobby talked over you.

"He didn't want you to be a hunter either and it ain't too late for you to get out of the game and set up in a-"

"It is too late!" You threw your hands up and stomped around him, irritation pouring off of you. "I am too damaged to even attempt normal."

"No, you are not. If Dean could do normal for a year with Lisa and her boy, then you can-"

"Did you bring that up just to hurt me?" you snapped.

Bobby’s entire demeanor softened. “No, of course not.” He reached out and gently grabbed your shoulders. “I never want to hurt you. I’m just sayin’...Dean has been through the same thing you’ve been through...and he was able to-to spend all that time...he was able to be normal, Y/n, for a year. You could be normal, too.”

“Why are you pushing for this now? Huh?”

“Because Dean’s never gonna abandon Sam...and Sam’s always going to be a sore subject for you...and you…” Bobby sighed and looked pointedly at your neck. “You’re free, Y/n. You don’t have marks. You don’t have scars. You have love and devotion for a man who has finally admitted he feels the same and I know that is an amazing thing for you but why don’t you take your freedom and-”

Fear and anger flooded you and it took you a moment to realize that the feelings weren’t your reaction to Bobby’s words. A flash of Sam standing over John with a large wrench hit you and you flew into action, slapping Bobby’s hands off of you and diving for the box of medicine under your bed.

“What’s going on?”

“Sam’s off his nut, go stop him!” you said, pulling out a syringe and a small glass vial. You didn’t even try to calculate how much propofol would be required for an alpha with 200 pounds of pure muscle; you just filled the syringe and followed Bobby down the stairs and into the kitchen. You gasped at the image of Bobby trying to wrestle the heavy wrench away from Sam as John lay bleeding on the floor in front of the fridge. You jumped at him, jamming the needle into his carotid. He growled and you fell back as he thrashed to get Bobby off of him.

“Get off! I have to do this!”

“You’re insane! That’s your father!” Bobby grunted out as you stood and jammed the plunger of the syringe down, flooding Sam’s system with sedatives.

You dropped to your knees next to John, putting your hand over the gaping wound on the side of his head. “Oh, god, John. Bobby, get me a towel as soon as Sam drops!”

“What’d you give ‘im?” Bobby’s voice strained as Sam went limp against him.

“Propofol.”

“Why do you have propofol?”

“Why do you have opium?” you snapped as you snatched the towel he offered you from his hand. “I thought it might knock me out long enough to get through a heat, but it only worked for a few hours.”

Bobby didn’t ask for further explanation as he checked John’s pulse and stepped away to grab Sam’s arms and pull him toward the basement.

“W’happen?” John groaned as his eyes fluttered open.

“Sam tried to kill you. Can you sit up?”

“Yeah.” John set his hands down and tried to sit up, but failed. “Guess not.”

“You’re probably concussed. We’ll get you onto the couch in the study in a minute. What the fuck happened?"

“Um...he said...he had to. He said that...he had to make his vessel...unfit or…”

You sighed heavily. “Of course. If he makes his vessel unclean, his soul won’t go back. Patricide.” You shook your head and stood, planting your feet on the tile and grabbing his hands, pulling him to his feet.

“How’d you stop ‘im?” John asked, limping toward the couch in the study.

“I gave him a bunch of propofol.”

“What, really? How’d you know how much to give him?”

“I didn’t.”

“Wait.” John grabbed your elbow as he stopped in front of the couch. “Is he gonna die? Isn’t that what killed Michael Jackson?”

“I don’t know.”

“I’m pretty sure that doctor gave Jackson too much-”

“I don’t know if Sam is going to die, John,” you clarified. “And I don’t care. I didn’t have time to calculate how much to give him, I just saved your life.”

“Thank you. I...can’t…”

“Just lay down and get some rest. Bobby and I will deal with Sam.”

John nodded slowly and sat down, resting his head against the arm of the couch. His eyes fluttered closed and you ran your hand down your face before turning to head down into the basement.

~~~~

"How long's he gonna be out?"

You shrugged and ran the tip of your knife under your thumbnail. "I don't know. I've never shot up a full-grown, soulless monster before."

"Ya know, you're real fucking nonchalant about the fact that you might've killed my brother," Dean growled.

"Next time, I'll let him kill everybody in a bid to keep your plan to restore his soul from working out," you responded, clicking the knife closed and tucking it in your pocket. "Speaking of failures, when he does wake up, we just gonna leave him locked in the panic room for the rest of his life or what?"

"I didn’t fail," Dean protested. “And I learned...I went back...I fixed…”

"Didn't succeed," you argued. "You couldn’t hack it as Death and I think I saw that coming because you've never been able to really handle anyone's passing...especially Sam...and isn't that the lesson Death was going for? All things must end, all things must die, stop obsessively trying to skirt death?"

"I didn’t bring Sam back this time. I...I stayed in Cicero. I did what I promised! Someone else brought him back and I'm supposed to pay for it?"

"Of course. It's your job, isn't it? You've always been responsible for that kid."

"She's very smart, isn't she?" a voice with a proper tone made your head snap to the right, where a skinny man in black was suddenly sitting at the table. “Dean, join me. Brought you one.” The Horseman offered Dean a hotdog wrapped in foil. “From a little stand in Los Angeles known for their bacon dogs. Sit.”

“Should I?” You motioned at the door to the study.

“No, no. Stay. I didn’t bring a dog for you, unfortunately.” He gestured at the seat on his left as Dean sat in the one on his right.

“Wow, what’s with you and cheap food?” Dean asked.

“I could ask you the same thing,” Death replied. “Thought I’d have a treat before I put the ring back on.” Dean pulled the ring out of his pocket and rolled it between his fingers. “Heavier than it looks, isn’t it? Sometimes, you just want the thing off. But you know that.” Death picked up a beer and looked down at Dean’s unopened hot dog. “Not hungry?”

“Look. I think you know that I flunked. So there.” Dean thunked the ring down on the table between them. “Oh, and by the way, I, uh...I sucked at bein’ you. Really screwed up the whole ‘natural order’ thing. But I’m sure you knew about that, too.”

“So, if you could go back, would you simply kill the little girl? No fuss, no stompling your feet?”

“Knowing what I know now, yeah.”

“I’m surprised to hear that,” Death said, before taking a drink of his beer. “Surprised and glad.”

“Yeah, well, don’t get excited. I would saved the nurse, okay? That’s it.”

“I think it’s a little more than that. Today, you got a hard look behind the curtain. Wrecking the natural order's not quite such fun when you have to mop up the mess, is it? This is hard for you, Dean. You throw away your life because you've come to assume that it'll bounce right back into your lap. But the human soul is not a rubber ball. It's vulnerable, impermanent, but stronger than you know. And more valuable than you can imagine.” The way those words were said, it seemed like Death was trying to convey some cryptic message. “So...I think you've learned something today.”

“Want to know what I think? I think you knew that I wouldn't last a day,” Dean accused.

“I have no idea what you're talking about.”

“I lost. Fine. But at least have the balls to admit that it was rigged from the jump.”

The chill that went through Dean at the look Death gave him was felt by you from across the table. “Most people speak to me with more respect,” Death warned.

“I didn't mean…”

“We're done here. It's been lovely.” Death stood, obviously unhappy with Dean’s attitude. “But now I'm going to go to hell to get your brother's soul.”

Both of you looked up at Death with wide eyes. “Why would you do that for me?” Dean asked.

“I wouldn't do it for you. You and your brother and this one keep coming back. You're an affront to the balance of the universe, and you cause disruption on a global scale.

“Apologize for that.”

“But you have use. Right now, you're digging at something. The intrepid detective. I want you to keep digging, Dean.”

“So you're just gonna be cryptic, or…”

Death leaned over Dean, picking up the ring from the table. “It's about the souls. You'll understand when you need to.”

“Wait,” Dean urged as Death started to slip the ring onto his finger. “With Sam...Is this wall thing really gonna work?

“Call it 75 percent.”

As Death disappeared, you and Dean stared at each other. “So, that was Death? Seems nice enough,” you eventually said.

“How long do you think-”

“He’s Death.” You stood and started for the basement, Dean rushing ahead as soon as you hit the bottom of the stairs. You watched from the corner as Sam screamed and Death gave him his soul and the wall. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair that he’d get to not remember. You walked up the stairs and into the study, looking down at John as he slept.

“It’s not fair, is it?” You gasped as you turned to see Death standing in the doorway, leaning on his cane.

“Life’s not-”

“Yes, I’ve been around long enough to have garnered that gem of wisdom,” he said, a bit condescendingly. “You were sent to Hell. Your soul was rescued, given new life. You died trying to prevent the End. Your soul was rescued, given new life. You are a scarred and scared young woman who never wanted to be a twice-dead, thrice-alive omega Hunter in the first place.”

“I’m not a young woman,” you whispered.

“I’ve been around longer than almost anything in the universe, Y/n. You’re an embryo compared to me.” Death stepped forward, tilting his head slightly as he examined you. “But you’re right. Why should you have to remember what has damaged you when Sam gets to forget?”

“I’m not the special Winchester Lucifer vessel that saved the world. That’s why Sam gets-”

“That isn’t what I’m asking. I’m asking if you want to forget as well.”

Your eyebrows came together at the question. If he could make you forget Hell, you could sleep again. You could dream again. You could move forward, move on. “Yes, but why would you?”

“I’m a fan of equality,” Death said, reaching out his hand.

“Will I remember not to scratch at the wall?”

“Oh, I’m doing something slightly different for you, my dear,” he responded, before fitting his palm against your forehead.

~~~~

You woke up and stretched. Today was going to be a good day. New city, new job, new start. You wished your dad was alive to see this. Or Bobby. You missed them both fiercely, but they were Hunters. Hunters never survived for long.

That’s why you promised your dad you would never pick up the rock salt, because he wanted his little girl to live a long, happy, normal life.

“31 years down, 70 more to go,” you whispered to the Heavens as you got out of bed and headed for the shower. As you undressed, your focus pinpointed the smooth skin of your neck. You suddenly yearned for a mark, but that was silly. You didn’t have an alpha. You didn’t know any alphas worth being marked. The only alphas you’d ever spent any real time with were Sam and Dean but you hadn’t seen them since you were a teen. “Silly omega bullshit.” You shook your head at yourself and got into the shower to get ready for your first day as a curator for the Natural History Museum.

“It’s gonna be a good day.”

[beatleskinkmeme]

Recently together Alpha John and Omega Paul in Hamburg, Paul's equal parts hurt and mad with how much time John's spending running around Stu

.

[xlandloud]

lil lineup or something… was mostly meant for me but i liked how they turned out

[soaps-mohawk]

Cherry Red, Crimson Blood

Chapter 15: Bonnie

Summary: Your heat is over and your pack has moved on with their lives, settling back into the familiar routine. Except, some things have begun to change, and you're not entirely sure if its for the better.

Pairing: Poly 141 x reader

Word Count: 7456 words

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, smut, oral, handjobs, overstimulation, P in V sex, unprotected sex, creampie, hair pulling, switch Johnny, Johnny's lingerie kink, Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, Alternate Universe, a/b/o typical classism and sexism, language, mention of nightmares, brief talk about killing and violence, insomnia, fluff, and of course a bit of angst

A/N: This chapter was an absolute bitch to write. I'm not kidding this was a nightmare. I'm happy with the changes I've made though, and how things are progressing. We've made a little bit of a time jump here, but not much. I think I'm getting sick so, posting the chapter before I inevitably pass out again. Oh, and Happy Easter everyone that celebrates.

Want early access to chapters, as well as other bonus content? Consider supporting me on Patreon.

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Your eyes fly open as the alarm blares. They burn as you squint against the bright phone light. An arm reaches over you, the warm skin sliding against your back as he fumbles to turn off the offending noise. 

You let out a quiet groan as you catch the numbers dictating the time on the screen before the phone is placed back on the nightstand. “‘S too early.” You grumble, rubbing at your crusty eyes. 

“Go back to sleep.” John murmurs, pressing a soft kiss to your shoulder before he shifts, climbing over you to get out of the bed. He tucks the blankets back around you before slipping into the bathroom. 

You won't go back to sleep. The last time you'd glanced at the time on your phone had been two hours ago, at 2 A.M. You’ve been awake most of the night, as you have been the last couple nights. You haven't been sleeping well. It was like your heat opened a floodgate and now every time you close your eyes, you're transported back into the past, back when you were a child. Back when things weren't fine. 

You've started trying to avoid sleep, waking constantly during the night from nightmares or from your brain’s own fear of them starting back up. It’s only been a week since your heat ended, and yet you feel no more rested than you did coming out of it. Nothing you’ve tried has worked, not even staying awake until you inevitably pass out prevents your subconscious mind from pulling up the horrible memories of your past. 

Even sleeping next to your alpha hasn’t provided any comfort for your mind. His presence isn’t enough to quell the fear in your mind that the nightmares might come back, that the memories might surface. 

Even he can’t protect you from this. 

You close your eyes as the bathroom door opens again, pretending to sleep as John dresses for his morning workout. He’s quiet, near silent as he moves about the room. It’s almost terrifying how quiet they can be. Though, you suppose, if your survival depends on it, it’s a skill you’d spend plenty of time honing. 

John grabs his phone from the nightstand, running a gentle hand over your head before he leaves the room, closing the door quietly behind him. You lay there for a few minutes, trying not to let the guilt eat you alive. You should tell them you’re struggling to sleep, that your mind is plaguing you with memories from your past, but you’re afraid of what they might think of you. You’re not the perfect omega, you’re not as whole as you might seem. 

You’re held together with duct tape on the inside. They already have enough to worry about now, they don’t need the weight of your misery thrown on top of the loads they all carry. 

You let out a long breath, turning over in John’s bed. You press your face into the pillow, inhaling the imprint of his scent on the fabric. It’s still warm where he was laying, and you shuffle over into that spot, letting your body go lax as you imagine him still there with you, arms still wrapped around your body. You want to bury yourself in his arms, press against his chest until you sink into him and become one. 

Only then, perhaps you can feel safe enough to sleep. 

You press your face further into the pillow, every inhale filled with John’s scent. It lulls you into a daze, the hypnagogic stage between sleep and wakefulness. 

You jolt as a hand touches your arm, calluses smoothing over the bare skin. You blink your eyes open, letting out a quiet groan. It’s light outside now, the room bathed in white light instead of the yellow tinge of the nightlight John had bought for his room for you.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you.” John says, gently squeezing your arm. He’s already dressed for the day, hair still damp from the shower. You hadn’t even noticed he’d returned. 

You roll over, rubbing your eyes. “‘S fine. Didn’t even know I was asleep. Breakfast time?” 

John hums, leaning over you. “Almost. You’ve got time to get ready.” 

You blink up at him blearily, your mind still trying to wake up completely after your short nap. You stare up into his eyes, getting lost in their blue depths. You feel like you could swim in them, his deep earthy scent drawing forward memories of camping and swimming in the lake. Memories you could pretend were happy, memories not tainted by fear and grief. 

“Christ,” He breathes, pressing his lips to yours. “So fucking beautiful.” 

Your cheeks warm at his words, your lips moving against his as you kiss. You trail a hand up his arm, sliding it to his back. His shirt is soft, thin enough that you can feel the muscles in his back as you smooth your hand across his shoulder blades. 

“Wish I could stay here all day.” He murmurs, his face pressing into your throat. You tilt your head for him, a quiet groan rumbling through his chest at your sign of submission. He sighs, pressing his nose against your scent gland for a moment before he straightens back up. “Got a job to do.” 

You let out a groan as you stretch, arching your back. “Fuck your job.” 

“I’d much rather be fucking you.” He says, leaning down to nip at your bottom lip before he stands up, grabbing the shirt you’d worn to slip into his room last night off the floor. It’s one of his, one you’d stolen from his laundry hamper while he was in the shower. “Don’t let anyone hear you say that.” 

You grin, pushing the sheets down before sitting up on the edge of the bed. You rub your eyes tiredly, stretching again before pulling on his shirt, slipping your slippers on. You pad back to your room, changing into more appropriate clothes for breakfast. You’ll be left to your own devices again afterward as the guys return to their normal training schedule. You won’t be napping this time, though, you fear. Instead you’ll be looking for ways to keep yourself awake. 

You and John walk hand in hand to the mess. It’s been a while since you’ve been inside of it, and you find you’ve grown to miss it a bit. You don’t miss the stares, the looks that pass over you and your entwined hands as John leads you to the line to get food. It’s like they know, like they all somehow witnessed what had transpired over the last couple weeks, like they had all been spectators to it. 

John makes your tray for you again, carrying it to the table where the others are already seated. You take your normal spot next to Kyle, both him and John sitting closer to you than before. Perhaps they were picking up on your nervous energy, but even Johnny and Ghost seemed to be sitting closer. You cast a glance between them before digging into your tray. Something had transpired, but you’re not quite sure what. 

You might never get to know. 

It’s quiet as you eat, the coffee bitter and watery, but you don’t care. You’ll suffer anything that might give you a boost of energy to make it to lunch without falling asleep. 

Johnny walks you back to the barracks after breakfast is over, his arm around your waist as you take your time crossing the courtyard. He’s oddly quiet compared to how energetic he usually is this early in the morning. Something must have happened to make him silent. 

“Johnny?” You ask after a group of soldiers jog past behind you. 

He hums, looking down at you. His eyes are still bright, but his brows are slightly furrowed. 

“Is everything alright?” You ask carefully, not wanting to risk pushing any buttons. 

“Aye.” He answers after letting out a sigh. “Jus’ an incident in the gym this mornin’. Nothing ye need tae worry about.” 

You raise your brows at him, silently conveying your desire for more information, if he can give you any. 

“Just some alphas talkin’ shite, like they do. Callin’ ye the 141’s whore. Askin’ if we all take turns or if ye let us all go at once.” He says, his tone practically seething as he leads you into the barracks. “Simon reminded them of their place.” 

You can only imagine how that went. 

Despite their obvious tension at the jabs made at you by the other alphas, you don't feel as angry as you probably should. Being called a whore was a bit demeaning, but part of what was said wasn't entirely wrong. Perhaps it's just some leftover hormones surging from your heat, or maybe being claimed has shifted your feelings towards your packmates, but the idea of being shared by them has warmth spreading through you. The mental images piecing together in your mind of taking them all at once would probably make the alphas that made that jab at you blush furiously. 

“Johnny?” You ask, turning to him when you reach your door. 

“Aye?” He stares down at you, his blue eyes soft as they gaze down into your own. 

“I, uh, I wouldn’t mind if at least part of what they said was true...” You sink your teeth into your lip. “You...uh...you’ve been waiting for a while...for your turn.” 

He gulps, shifting slightly on his feet. You can’t tell if he’s nervous or excited or something in between. 

“Well, I’ve been officially cleared to partake in more...strenuous activities..” 

“Christ.” He breathes, crowding you against the door. For a moment you’re worried he might just do it right here, right now, but instead he leans in, close enough you can smell the coffee he had with his breakfast. “I’d love that, kitten.” He bites his own lip as he stares down at yours. “Let me know, and I’ll be ready for you.” He leans down, closing the short distance between you as he kisses you. 

You lean into him, kissing him back. It feels like the first time you kissed him, except you can feel the hunger, the restraint behind this kiss. You can feel how much he’s been holding back, how long he’s waited to finally have this moment. To think of anyone desiring you in such a way makes your head spin. He wants you for you, not what you can do for him, not what you can give to him. Not even just for what’s between your legs, even if that’s what you’re going to do. 

He wants to be with you because you’re you. He doesn’t have to, he could choose not to, but he does. 

He pulls away, staring down at you. His eyes are darker now, speaking promises of what’s to come. “When you’re ready, I’ll be waiting.” 

“You're tired.” 

You blink, your gaze snapping to his face. You had been drifting thoughtlessly, quite enamored with a single spot on the floor. You're not sure how long he let you stand there, empty-headed and practically dozing upright. 

You rub your eyes, trying to force your brain back to awareness. “It's early.” You give the excuse, toeing off your shoes. “Been a while since we've done this.”

“You're going to have to work extra hard to gain it all back.” Ghost says, pulling off his sweatshirt. 

Your eyes are immediately drawn to his arms, the strength in them, the tattoos on his skin. You bite back the desire to move closer, to get just a glimpse at one close up. You want to sit and trace them, hear the story of every single one. You want to push his sleeve up, watch the way his muscles bulge and flex, see how far his tattoo goes up his arm. 

You snap yourself out of your thoughts, moving onto the mat before you do something embarrassing like starting to drool. You watch him as he stands at the edge of the mat, brown eyes taking you in as you stand there. Something tickles in the back of your mind, a hint of fear, the sense of sudden danger prevalent. What would you do if he suddenly ran at you? Try to dodge and make it to the door? Where would you go? The med center again? 

“Easy.” He grumbles, sensing your obvious tension.

Your gaze snaps back to him, his posture relaxed as he stays still. “I'm putting a lot of trust in you.”

“I know.” He says, standing almost as still as a statue. You wonder how he can possibly be so still, but you suppose it's something he learned to do. “I should never have broken that trust in the first place.”

Your eyes widen, brows lifting as you stare at him. You didn't expect such a straightforward apology from him. You haven't really gotten one, until now. You hesitate as you stand there in silence, Ghost obviously waiting for your response. 

“I don't know if I can forgive you.” You finally say. 

“You shouldn't.” He shrugs, his gaze shifting to the wall behind you. “Even if you weren't really in danger, it was still a dick move.”

Your eyebrows raise even higher. “An apology and admitting you were a dick? Should I be worried?”

He huffs out a breath, shaking his head. “Consider it an offering of amicability, for Johnny. I know you two are getting close, so inevitably we're going to find ourselves around each other more often than we have previously.”

“Well, I suppose I could accept that.” You say, shifting on your feet. “I don't think you could convince Johnny otherwise.”

“Hardly. He wouldn't listen anyway.” He finally moves, shifting on his feet. “You gonna put your hackles down so I can approach?”

You take a deep breath, relaxing the tension in your body. You don't really have a reason to fear him, despite what he did. He hasn't given you a reason to fear him since then, and he's even gone so far as to apologize in his own way. John wouldn't have allowed this to start again if he didn't trust Ghost not to do something that might put you in danger. 

John trusts him, so you should be able to as well. 

Ghost slowly approaches, your eyes watching him carefully until he's directly in front of you. You stare up at him, holding his gaze. You wish you could see the rest of his face on the off chance it might give you a hint at what he's thinking and feeling. You wonder if that's partially why he wears the mask. 

Ghost holds out his hand and you place your own in his. It's so much bigger than yours, his long fingers engulfing your wrist as he wraps your hand. You could probably do it yourself by this point, but you like making him do it. You like the way his hands hold yours, the roughness of his skin against your own. 

He starts out reviewing things you already know. Punches, kicks, dodging. It doesn't take long for you to get back into the groove of things, moving like it hasn't been nearly a month since your last training session. You notice the fatigue faster than you had during your last session, but you expected that after almost a month, paired with your heat two weeks ago. 

“Now, punching and kicking will only get you so far in a fight.” He says, giving you a moment to breathe. “Almost all fights are going to end up on the ground. Even if your goal is disarming enough to escape, the chances of you and your opponent ending up on the ground is highly likely.” 

He swipes your feet out from under you before you can even blink, nearly knocking the wind from you as you land on the mat on your back. He’s on you quickly, dropping to his hands and knees over you. Your breath catches in your throat as you stare at him above you, his hulking form seeming even larger from this angle. Your mind begins to run wild, imagining all the things that could happen in this position. 

“Focus.” He grumbles, arms flexing as he presses his hands into the mat where they rest on either side of your head. “You don’t want to be in this position in a fight. You’re too vulnerable.” 

A shiver runs down your spine at his words. You are vulnerable like this. Even with him, someone who doesn’t want to hurt you, it would be so easy. Your head begins to turn, your gaze leaving his as instinct begins to take over. 

“No.” He snaps, gripping your chin to turn your head back so he’s looking in your eyes. “You do that in a fight, you’re not going to see the other side.” 

You gulp, trying to ignore the warmth of his fingers on your face, the firmness of his grip as he keeps you from showing submission to him. That’s not why you’re here. He’s right. If you do that in a fight, it’ll be over before you even have a chance to run. 

“Your legs are far stronger than your arms. Use them to your advantage.” He says, showing you how to get him into the right position to flip him. 

You know he’s helping you as you flip him onto his back. If he really was fighting you, you’re not sure you could have done it, even if you managed to land enough of a hit to disarm him. You wind up on top of him, sitting on his stomach. The position doesn’t help your racing thoughts, and you pray you can keep enough control over yourself so you don’t make it obvious. 

“Use your legs to pin my hands.” He directs you. You shift your knees slightly, trapping his hands against the mat. “Good.” He says, laying still under you. “You can’t hold a bigger opponent down here for long, but that’s not the point. This gives you a moment of opportunity to go for the face or the neck. Stun them and that gives you a headstart. If you have a weapon available, then you have one less person to worry about chasing you.” 

You gulp at his words. It hadn’t even crossed your mind during your training. He had said it so simply, so easily. You suppose it is to him, after years of doing it, after countless moments where it’s his life or theirs. Is that what he tells himself? Is that how he rationalizes it? Is there so much blood on his hands now that killing is as easy as breathing? 

You wonder how they all rationalize it. They all have blood on their hands, they all have killed, and will kill again. Every time they leave and come back, it’s with more blood, more nameless faces on the list of lives they've taken, all in the name of the greater good. 

Is violence and death really the path to the greater good? 

“What?” He asks, sensing your inner turmoil. 

You sit back on his stomach, your body rising and falling with his even breaths. “I don’t know if I could do it.” 

He tugs his hands from beneath your knees easily, resting them on the mat next to your legs. You can feel his fingers twitch as the blood rushes back into them. “You might not have much of a choice.” He says, holding your gaze. There’s a softness in his gaze you have never seen before. “Sometimes it’s the only choice. If they’re attacking you, they’re better off dead. Even if their goal is to take you alive, the things they’ll do to you.” He shakes his head. 

He’s speaking from experience. You know he’s seen things, witnessed the brutality omegas are subjected to at the hands of the worst kinds of alphas and betas. He’s watched omegas die in front of him while he’s sat helpless.

His hand lifts, cupping the back of your head to pull you down closer to his face. You catch yourself with your hands on either side of his head, fighting the urge to tense your shoulders. His hand doesn’t move from the back of your head, his fingers not even twitching as he holds you steady. 

“If they’re willing to do it to you, how many others have been on the receiving end? If you’re not willing to be the last, how many others will come after you?” He says, his gaze intense as he stares at you. “I hope you never have to, but you always have to prepare for the worst.” 

He holds you there for a breath, staring up into your eyes before he releases you, flipping you off of him and onto your back on the mat. He pushes himself up to stand, staring down at you as you lay there, catching your breath and thinking over the last few moments that transpired. 

“Come on. It’s almost time for breakfast.” 

It’s quiet in the rec room. The TV is off for once, only the hum of electricity and the occasional turning of a page the only sound breaking the silence. You and Ghost are the only two in the rec room, both of you relaxing silently as you read. He’s in the chair as usual, and you’re stretched out on the couch. 

You’re only halfway paying attention to your book, still thinking over your conversation with Johnny earlier, and what transpired in the gym during your training session yesterday. You know how much Johnny wants to be with you, and you're more than willing to go that far with him. You like Johnny, more than just as a packmate. It's hard not to fall for him with his confidence and his playful demeanor. You know he's been desperate to take things to the next level too. 

All he's waiting on is you saying the word. 

He will never force you into it. He'll impatiently wait for you to go to him, to tell him that you want it. All jokes and teasing aside, you know he'd never make you feel like you were being forced into something. 

The thought makes you want to cry. 

“Pull his hair.” Ghost’s voice cuts through the silence, nearly making you jump. 

You lower your book so you can see him, eyebrows raising in surprise at his words. “What?” 

“When you finally fuck Johnny, grab him by the mohawk. He likes it.” Ghost says, not even looking up from his own book. 

You stare at him wide-eyed, wondering for a moment if he can read minds, or if you’re just not quite as subtle as you think you’re being. 

“I'll, uh, keep that in mind.” You say, lifting your book again to hide your blushing face. 

The room descends into silence once more, the two of you continuing to read as if nothing had happened, as if that conversation hadn’t transpired. You wish it felt that way in your mind, though. The mental images Ghost’s words have drawn up drowning out the words on the pages that you’re trying to read. You’re trying not to get worked up further, but you can’t help it. After your training session and the thoughts that had come to mind with Ghost, and now these new images of Johnny, you’re sure your scent has begun to sweeten with arousal. 

You need to rectify this, and fast. 

You knock on the door, shifting nervously on your feet. Your hands have disappeared in your sleeves, the weight of your phone in your pocket the only thing keeping you from floating to the ceiling and dissipating into the air from the anxiety. 

Your stomach nearly drops from your body as the door swings open, Gaz standing there in his full glory. 

“Everything alright?” He asks, staring down at you with those big brown eyes. “You look nervous.”

You swallow the nerves, nodding in response. “Yeah, I just...wanted to talk to you for a minute.” 

He steps away from the door, brows still pinched in worry and confusion as he motions for you to enter. You brush past him as you step into his room, taking a look around. You haven't been in his room before. It's slightly smaller than yours and John's, and it doesn't have a private bathroom. There's artwork up on the walls, and a couple of plants on his desk, along with a few personal belongings. It's neat and tidy, not that you expected anything less. 

“What did you want to talk about?” He asks, turning to face you after closing the door. 

You take a deep breath, calming the nervous twist in your stomach. You shouldn’t be nervous. It’s a natural thing to bring up to packmates. You blame it on the fatigue from your lack of sleep putting you on edge.

“I wanted to ask you something.” You start, staring into his big brown eyes. They’re so beautiful, so expressive as they stare down at you. “Johnny and I...we’re going to...sleep together soon and...I just wanted to make sure that was okay? In case maybe you wanted to go first?” 

Kyle’s lips slowly lift up into a smile as you stare at him nervously, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “He’s been an absolute tosser since before your heat, and he’d only become utterly unbearable if he didn’t get to go first.” He steps up closer to you, grinning down at you. “For the sake of everyone’s sanity, I don’t mind being patient. Besides,” He leans down, his breath fanning your ear. “I at least know what you look like naked, so I can occupy myself while I wait.” 

Your face burns with warmth at his words, a shiver running down your spine. He’s not wrong. He’s seen you at your most vulnerable, lost to your heat, naked and stuffed with John’s knot. Your brain flashes back to the start of your heat, the feel of his fingers slipping beneath the waistband of your pajama pants. You swallow thickly, meeting his gaze as he pulls back. 

“Enjoy your time with Johnny, love.” He slips his hand into yours, lifting it to his lips. He presses a soft kiss to your knuckles, lips brushing your skin as he speaks. “I’ll be here waiting for you when you’re ready.” 

You feel a bit out of breath as you leave Kyle’s room, and you’re sure your scent has sweetened with arousal and excitement. You might have been tempted to just jump Kyle’s bones right now, had it not been for your desire for Johnny, and your commitment to letting him be first again. You know Kyle’s right. You’d never hear the end of it if Johnny didn’t get the chance to be next in line. 

Now you just have to find him and tell him the good news. 

“Ye look nervous. Are ye nervous?” 

“I mean, this is a big step...” You say, wrapping your arms around Johnny’s neck as he shifts you into his lap. You try not to think about how strong he is, how easily he moves you. 

“Ye don’t have tae do this, if ye don’ want to.” He says, looking down into your eyes. 

“It’s not that...” You say, shifting in his lap. “It’s more...there’s no going back after this.” 

He wraps his arms tighter around you. “If I didnae want it, I wouldnae offer. Yer a fucking stunnin’ omega, kitten. Would be crazy not tae want ye.” 

Your cheeks warm at his words, your gaze dropping from the intensity of his own. His stubble tickles your fingers as you trace the line of his jaw, working your way towards his lips. His tongue darts out, wetting his bottom lip as your fingers trace the jagged scar on his chin. 

“Just...go easy on me? At least this first time?” You say, tracing his lips with your fingers. 

“‘Course, kitten.” He says, pressing a kiss to your fingertips. “Wouldnae want to scare ye away.” 

Your eyes widen slightly at the implications of his words, your stomach fluttering with excitement and a hint of fear at what he could possibly be alluding to. His hand lifts, gently grasping your chin, tilting your face slightly. He closes the distance between you, pressing his lips to yours. 

“Don’ worry.” He murmurs against your lips. “Take good care of ye.” 

You hum against his lips, tasting the chocolate he’d been snacking on when you sought him out as his tongue slips into your mouth. His hand leaves your chin, sliding down your throat to rest right at the base of your throat, fingers splayed across your clavicle. His thumb rests right on the edge of your mating mark, the pressure making you shiver. 

Johnny pulls you tighter against his chest, your arms wrapping around his neck. He moans against your lips as you shift against him, the bulge in his pants pressing against your ass. It’s not the first time you’ve felt it, but this time it’s different. This time you’re going to do something about it. 

“Fucking christ, take ye right here on this couch, if I’m not careful.” Johnny groans, nipping at your bottom lip. 

“Then best take me to bed, Sergeant.” You say, pulling back slightly to give him what you hope is a sultry look. 

The groan that’s pulled from his lips is downright salacious, something flashing in his eyes as you call him by his rank. He curses, tightening his hold around you before he stands, maneuvering you so you’re tossed over his shoulder. You let out a squeak of surprise that’s quickly replaced by giggles as he packs you down the hall to his room. 

He sets you on your feet once you're inside, closing the door. You look around his room, surprised to see it full of art supplies with drawings and paintings all over the walls. You stare open mouthed, taking it all in. It's messier than John and Kyle's rooms, though there's still a sense of order to it. A chaotic order, but you suppose that explains Johnny perfectly. 

“You draw?” You say, studying the art on the walls.

“Aye,” Johnny says, coming up behind you. “In my free time.”

“I didn't know that.” A small smile tugs at your lips. “They're beautiful.”  

“Thank ye, kitten.” He wraps his arms around you from behind, reminding you of why you came in here in the first place. “Not quite as beautiful as you.”

Your face warms at his compliment and you tilt your head back, staring up at him. “You're such a charmer.” 

“Try my best.” He grins, leaning down and kissing your forehead. “Promise I'll show ye my drawings later.”

You turn in his arms, wrapping your own around his neck. “I know. You're desperate.”

“Been waitin’ weeks for this, kitten.” He groans, grinding against you. 

He leans down, pressing his lips to yours. You tighten your grip around his neck, jumping into his arms. He manages to catch you, stumbling half a step back as his hands grip your thighs. You wrap your legs around his waist, lifting yourself so you’re face to face with him. 

“Christ.” He groans against your lips, walking forward until he reaches his bed.

He drops you on your back, your body bouncing on the mattress as he settles on his knees over you. His eyes have darkened as he stares down at you, your stomach twisting in excitement. Warmth has started to pool between your legs, your scent sweetening with arousal. 

Johnny’s hands are rough as they slip under your shirt, tugging it up over your head. He groans, eyes fluttering as he realizes you’re without a bra underneath. He curses quietly, something you can’t quite understand as his hands immediately close around your breasts. Your lips part as he squeezes the flesh in his hands, leaning down to take a nipple in his mouth. You gasp at the sensation as his lips close around the sensitive bud, suckling at it like he’s a man starved. 

Well, you suppose he is. 

He has been waiting for quite a while for this opportunity. Something about it makes your brain tingle, arousal pooling in your stomach at the thought of someone desiring you that much. 

It’s not just him, though. Three of the four members of your pack have expressed their desire for you in such a way. The thought makes your head spin. You’re just a simple omega, and yet, here they are going half crazy over you. 

Johnny releases your nipple with a pop, shifting so he can give the same attention to the other one. Arousal continues to pool between your legs, your arms wrapping around his shoulders. You drag your fingernails across the back of his neck, a shiver wracking through his body, his hips grinding down against your thigh. 

“Fuck,” He gasps, releasing your nipple to stare up at you.

You repeat the motion, dragging your fingers slower. His eyes roll back, hips grinding harder against your thigh. He’s so sensitive, you think, pushing your thigh up against him. He lets out what can only be described as almost a whine, rutting his hips against your leg. 

“Fuck,” He curses again, pushing himself back up onto his knees. “Tonight is about you, kitten.” He takes a deep breath before slipping his fingers under the waistband of your pants, tugging them down quickly and tossing them on the floor next to your shirt. 

He sinks his teeth into his lip as he stares down at your panties, one of the pairs he got you on your shopping trip before your date with John. You had changed into them specifically for Johnny, remembering how excited he’d looked when he bought you five pairs of the lacy garments. He groans quietly as he runs his fingers over your lace covered skin, slowly lowering his fingers between your thighs. He glances up at you, meeting his gaze and you give him a nod before his fingers dip lower, trailing the wet spot on the lacy fabric. 

You part your legs more for him as he rubs you through your panties, quiet moans leaving your lips at the feeling of the friction from the fabric. His eyes are still on you, glued to your face as the pleasure begins to build just from his touch. You buck your hips against his hand, searching out more. More pleasure, more of his touch, more of him. 

“Look at ye, needy little thing.” He groans, his thumb dragging up your slit until he finds your clit, slowly circling it through the fabric. “Barely touched ye an’ yer cunt’s already soakin’ yer skids. Fucking sweet little thing, so needy for me, aren’t ye?” 

You push yourself up onto your elbows, staring down at him. “Are you going to sit there and run your mouth all night, or are you going to fuck me?” 

He grins wickedly at you. “I’m just gettin’ started, kitten.” 

He leans down, pressing a kiss to the inside of your knee before trailing kisses up your inner thigh. His thumb continues to stroke you through your panties, applying more and more pressure as he gets closer and closer to your center. He whispers out a curse as he shoves your panties to the side, revealing your glistening folds to him. He leans forward, warm breath fanning your slit before he closes his mouth around you. 

You gasp at the sensation, dropping back onto your back on the bed as he drags his tongue through your folds, flicking it across your clit before he closes his lips around the sensitive bud, suckling at it like he did your nipples earlier. Pleasure shoots through you as he eats you like a man starved, slurping away at your pussy obscenely. 

“Fuck, Johnny!” You gasp, legs trying to close around his head, but he holds your inner thighs, keeping them spread. 

You’re not going to last very long, not with him alternating between sucking at your clit and swirling his tongue around it like that. He’s done this before, and you can’t help the momentary spike of jealousy at the thought of him between any other omega’s thighs now that he has you. 

“Gonna cum!” You whine, hips bucking against his face. 

“Yeah? Gonna make a mess all over my face?” He groans. 

You curse, your back arching as he continues to work you up, hands fisting his sheets. 

“That’s it.” He groans against your clit, dragging his teeth over the sensitive bud. “Be a good omega for me.” 

You cum with a cry, soaking his chin as he continues to tease you. He laps at your juices, not slowing any as he works you through your orgasm, even as you begin to shake with overstimulation. 

“I-I can’t.” You gasp, the burning feeling starting to pulse through you as he continues to suck at your clit. It’s quickly becoming too much, the feeling overwhelming you. 

Ghost’s words flash through your mind at that moment, his suggestion yesterday while you both spent time in the rec room reading. You reach down, sinking your fingers into Johnny’s mohawk, gripping the short strands. He lets out a groan as you tug, pulling his face from your pussy finally. His chin is glistening with your release, his tongue darting out to lick your juices from his lips. 

He follows as you tug upwards, drawing him away from your pussy. He crawls up your body until you’re almost face to face, your fingers still tangled in his hair. 

“I said that’s enough.” You say, slightly breathless from your orgasm, but you put as much authority in your tone as you can manage. 

“Yes ma’am.” He practically whines, the muscles in his arms flexing as he sinks his own fingers into the sheets around you. 

The sudden shift in control has something buzzing in your brain, the back of your neck tingling. You’re an omega. You’re not supposed to be in control, and yet, here Johnny is, practically folding in front of you. A thrill shoots through your veins at the thought of what you could make him do, what lengths he’d go to for you simply because you have him in this position. 

“Take your clothes off.” You say, releasing his mohawk. 

He sits back without complaint, tugging his shirt over his head. You take him in, the hard lines of his muscles, the dark hair on his chest, the line disappearing under the waistband of his pants. You lick your lips as he undoes the button on his pants, undoing the zipper before tugging them down with his boxers. 

His cock is hard and practically standing at attention as he kicks his pants off. He’s slightly smaller than John, but not by much. Your pussy clenches at the thought of him inside you, but you’re not ready for that quite yet. You guide Johnny back up to your face, pressing your lips against his. You can taste yourself on him, making him groan as you lick into his mouth. 

You guide him onto his back, trading places with him. He settles beneath you, his hands lifting to your hips, but you push them back as you pull away. You smirk down at him for a moment before you move, changing your position so you’re facing away from him. You trap his hands against the bed with your legs like Ghost showed you, sitting yourself on his taut stomach. He has a clear view of your ass still sporting your lacy panties, your wet folds pressed against his skin. 

“Simon show ye that one?” He asks, flexing his hands under you. He could easily overpower you and free himself, but he doesn’t.

“Uh huh.” You say, wrapping your hand around his cock. 

“Hells bells, what are you two gettin’ into during trainin’?” He groans, obviously starting to picture the lewd things you and Ghost might be doing. You wonder how he’d react to seeing you on top of Ghost like you were yesterday. 

“He’s just teaching me how to defend myself.” You say, slowly pumping his cock. “I’m finding there’s not much of a difference between fucking and fighting.” 

Johnny lets out another groan, but you’re not sure if it’s because of your words, or your hand on his cock. You continue to pump his length, feeling the softness of him in your hand, squeezing gently to feel the vein running along the bottom side. Johnny lets out a choked groan, hands twitching again under your legs. 

“Fuck, I cannae last much longer.” He gasps desperately, his length twitching in your hand. 

Pearly white beads of precum have begun to slip from his tip, and you can’t help but lean down and drag your tongue across his head, gathering some in your mouth. He lets out a whine that rivals ones of your own, his hips bucking as he gets closer and closer to his own orgasm. 

“Please, kitten, let me cum inside ye.” He begs, pulling his hands free from underneath you so he can grip your hips. 

You pull away from his cock, sitting up on his stomach. He’s panting, his fingers digging into the skin of your hips. You shift yourself again, turning back around to face him. His eyes are hooded as he stares at you, pupils blown with lust. His lips are parted as he pants, sweat beading on his forehead from the strain of holding himself back. You push yourself back until you’re hovering over his cock, pulling your panties to the side with one hand, grabbing his length with the other. 

You groan as you sink down onto him, bracing yourself with a hand on his stomach as he stretches you open. His hands settle on your waist, squeezing your hips as you work yourself down his length. 

“Fuck,” You breathe, pressing your hands against his abs as you sink down completely onto his cock, your hips flush with his. 

“So fucking tight and warm,” He groans, his grip near bruising around your hips. “Fucking feel fantastic, kitten.” 

You slowly begin rocking your hips, using your hands on his stomach for leverage. Your toes are curling already from this angle, the tip of his cock brushing that spot deep inside you with every rock of your hips. Small whines and whimpers leave your lips as you fuck yourself on his cock, squeezing your legs around his hips. They’re shaking already, and you know you won’t last long in this position. 

Johnny seems to notice that as well, his grip on your hips tightening as he starts to guide your movements. You’re starting to sweat from the effort, your thighs burning, but it feels too good to stop. You’re getting close again, the stretch of him inside you paired with the high of having such control over him just a few moments ago driving you closer and closer to the edge. 

Johnny pushes himself up as your movements begin to slow, wrapping his arms around you to shift you in his lap, laying you down on the bed facing the footboard as he slots himself over you. He takes over, thrusting into you, setting a frantic pace. Your head falls back as he pounds into you, your back arching as he folds his body over yours, pressing his face into your neck. 

“Gonna cum for me? Need tae feel ye squeezing ‘round my cock.” He grunts, nipping at the skin of your throat. 

You let out a whimper, nails digging into his shoulders. “Just like that.” You pant, squeezing your legs around his hips. “Don’t stop!” 

“Yes, ma’am.” He groans, continuing to rut into you like your pussy is the only thing that can save his life. 

You practically see stars as you cum, squeezing around his cock as pleasure jolts through your body like electricity. Your hips buck against his, grinding together like some sort of forbidden dance as he’s forced into his own orgasm by your walls squeezing around him. His hips stutter before he stills, warmth spurting into you as he cums. You hold him there, his body trembling with yours as he groans into your throat. 

“Fucking hell.” He moans, starting to shallowly thrust into you. He’s still hard, his cock dragging through your sensitive walls as he continues to fuck you despite having just orgasmed. “Never gonnae tire of this sweet cunt.” 

He probably won’t, you think as he continues to slowly thrust into you again. 

You’re in for a long night. 

Taglist:

@bobaprint @ashy-kit @anunintentionalwriter @mockerycrow @hayleybarnesx @protokosmonaut @fruitymoonbeams-blog @blue-blue0 @hindi-si-ikay @thatonepupkai @redwites @kattiieee @141trash @lothiriel9 @dillybuggg @beebeechaos @konigsmissedbeltloop @kaoyamamegami @idkkkkkkk8363 @wallwriterstuff @smile-child-13 @anomiatartle @dangerkittenclaws @bless-my-demons @mystic60 @evolutionarry @red-hydra @lunaetiicsaystuff @linaangel @codsunshine @thriving-n-jiving @slayerx147 @ferns-fics @spicyspicyliving @cityoffallencrows @ttsbaby01 @heeheehoohoohahahihi @sleepyoriana @ihatethinkingofnames10 @cassiecasluciluce @darling006 @sheep-from-rad @ohgodthebogisback @willow-sages @scythemood @daniblogs164 @mirzamsaiph 

[dante-mightdie]

c/w: fem!reader, d/s dynamics, smut, overstimulation, spanking, crying, fingering, mention of poly!141

hello what do you think of poly!141 with d/s elements? price and simon being the dominant figures and you, johnny and gaz being the subs

because I really enjoy thinking of how differently simon and price would handle punishments. especially if you’ve been acting bratty or grumpy

price will pull you into his lap, asking why his sweet girl is making such a mean face :( he knows you’re his good girl and that something must be on your mind. he’ll whisper soft things in your ear whilst his fingers fuck in and out of your pussy, making you cum so many times until you’re a tired, pliant puddle in his lap

but simon pulls you over his lap in a second. hands pinned behind your back, face shoved into the sofa cushions and your ass raised in the air. doesn’t waste anytime in raising his hand and swatting your ass repeatedly. ignoring your squeals and cries as he bruises your ass. calling you a nasty little brat who’s forgotten her place, telling you he’ll fix that mean look on your face

he’ll make you count the spanks until all you can’t even speak, the only thing leaving your mouth is quiet sobs. all the frustrations that had been piling up, causing you to act out, just leave your body in wracking sobs. only then does simon pull you into his lap, pushing your face into his neck and let you cry it all out. his warm hand rubbing up and down your back in soothing circles

[kailixart]

this is how i imagine they hang out btw

what movie do you think they're watching?

[crossfalconx5]

the lgbtq community I think

[offkilterkeys]

The world isn’t ready for my alpha kid readings.

[crashdevlin]

Remembering

Author’s Note: This is part Thirty-two of The Best Laid Plans series

Summary: John helps Y/n call upon the only beings powerful enough to help her.

Pairing: none

Word count: 4116

Story Warnings:  angst...A/B/O dynamics, canon divergence, reader illness, reader amnesia, memories of non-con, memories of abuse

~~~

“What are we doing?” you asked, shaking your head as you watched John Winchester dig a hole in your back garden with his hands.

“You need to take the drachma out of the necklace,” he instructed, absentmindedly gesturing toward you with his dirt-covered left hand.

“But why?” It seemed like complete nonsense to you. Why was he digging a hole and why did he need your special drachma? You pulled the necklace off and unclipped the glass case holding the coin anyway, dropping the silver into your palm and looking over at him.

“The drachma was a gift to you from Hades and Persephone. I figure a pagan god might be able to either get your memories back or find a way to get Dean back.”

You looked at him for a minute, blinking slowly as the words sank in. “Hades and Persephone?”

He nodded, still not looking at you as he piled soil to the side of the hole. “Yeah, yeah, it’s a long story, but they saved you from Hell when you sold your soul for Dean. They’re the reason you got your first second chance.” He stood, wiping his hands on his jeans as he turned to you. “You just need to bury it. Hades should show up.”

“Are-are you sure?” You rubbed the coin between your fingers, fear falling over you. “I have had this almost all of my life. I don’t want to mess it up or-”

“Dirt won’t hurt it…and calling on them didn’t do any damage last time you did it,” John assured you, covering your hand with his own and looking down into your eyes. “I promise that it’s going to be okay.”

“Oh…okay.” You nodded and stepped away from him, toward the hole. You took a steadying breath as you dropped the coin into the spot and swept dirt over it.

“It has been far too long, louloudi mou.” You gasped at the deep voice with the slightly Greek accent and twisted. He was tall and well-muscled with a thick, dark beard, dressed in a deep blue hoodie and jeans. His presence was overwhelmingly alpha and yet…comforting in the strangest way. Hades’ eyes moved from you to John and back. "You have no sign of recognition. Do you not know me, Y/n?"

"I'm sorry." You shook your head. "I...I guess, um, my memories were altered?" You looked to John for support as the larger alpha's eyebrows rose.

“Death went digging in her brain,” John answered for you. “He was trying to give her a fresh start, which he did, but it wasn’t worth it.”

Hades sighed and reached out to touch your shoulder. Part of you wanted to flinch away from the touch, as he was a stranger to you, but the comfort in his presence made you stay stalwart. “Y/n. All that was you has been taken?”

There was so much concern and caring in his words and in his eyes that you felt yourself calming down completely. “Not…not all of me…I don’t think?”

“She’s still in there. Her memories have just been hidden, buried under a lifetime of false ones.” John cleared his throat as he stepped closer to Hades. “She’s shown that she’s still there, and she can still fight, and she’s…”

“She’s sick.” The god’s head tilted as he examined you. “There is disease in your loins.” The fear flooded back for a minute, but then his hand tightened its grip on your shoulder. “Louloudi mou, you have been through so much. Do you truly want to remember it all?”

You swallowed thickly and nodded. “I’m not right. I’m not me. I need to be me so that I can get Dean back.”

“You do not remember Dean. Why do you feel you need to get him…back?”

You cleared your throat and let out a shaky breath. “He’s in Purgatory. He’s living in fear and pain. I can feel it.”

“She’s been dreamin’ of him since she’s been-”

“Dreaming of both of them,” you interrupted.

“You are connected to them, yes. You would be dreaming of them. It is inevitable.” Hades nodded and stepped back. “If you have called upon me to mine the memories out of the mountain of falsities the Horseman created, I fear I will be forced to disappoint you. This is beyond my capabilities.”

“What about Mnemosyne?” you asked, a bit desperately. “Can you just try and get her to-”

“Ah. You haven’t forgotten your lore, then?” The god smiled and nodded. “I can call upon Mnemosyne. The Titanis is a bit inconsistent and there is no guarantee of her acquiescence to the request. In fact, she might be more apt to agree if Persephone were to ask,” he said thoughtfully.

“And if she won’t help…can you, at least, help us get Dean out of Purgatory?” John asked.

Hades didn’t even look at him; his eyes focused on you entirely as he gave a singular nod. “Yes. I will get your mate back.”

“He’s not my-” you began, and Hades laughed. It was loud and stopped you in your tracks.

“You are, indeed, still in there, Y/n, because that is the same lie you used to tell me in the Underworld. I will return, hopefully with the assistance you require.”

He disappeared in an instant, leaving you staring at an empty garden. You turned to John and let out a shaky sigh. "So…what now?"

He smiled. "Now, we have a beer and wait."

You nodded and dropped to your knees to get the drachma back. "I have beer…but I think whiskey might suit the situation better."

John chuckled, heading inside. “There’s a hunter in you, after all.”

“Bottle’s above the fridge!” you called as you wiped the drachma on your pants and held it up to ensure you’d gotten all the dirt off it. You slipped the coin back into the necklace and sighed. Why was everything so crazy all of a sudden? You licked your lips as you walked into your home to see John pouring two glasses of whiskey. “Make it a double.”

“Of course,” he said, pouring more into both glasses.

~~~

“So I was in a relationship with Dean?” you asked.

John shrugged. “A bit.”

“What does that mean?” you asked, a bit miffed at the evasive answer.

Before he downed the rest of his whiskey, he seemed to contemplate which words to use. “You were in love. For years, you were both in love. Everyone could see it, but Dean was so scared that he would hurt you, and you were so tired of being treated like you were…disposable?”

“What?” You shook your head, not understanding. “What do you mean, ‘disposable’?”

John ran his hand down his face and sighed. “Look, you guys loved each other. You slept with all of us…mostly from necessity, but you were in love with Dean. And you-”

“Why would Death take me and make me into someone else?” you interrupted, sipping at your drink.

“You…weren’t happy.” He cleared his throat. “Things with Dean were rocky. Sam was a bit of an issue…always.”

Your eyebrows came together. “Why was Sam an issue? Sam was my best friend before he went off to Stanford.”

John hesitated, avoiding your eyes by looking at his lap. “Sam lost his mind a bit a few years ago. He hurt you.”

“Hurt me, how?” you pressed.

He sighed and you got the feeling he didn’t really want to go into detail for you. “It’s very complicated, Y/n. There are alternate timelines and death and resurrection and a nasty little demon bitch that got Sam addicted to her blood and-”

“Her blood?” The very idea of someone consuming demon blood in any manner was shocking.

John nodded. “Yeah.” He looked up and cleared his throat. “Do you really wanna know all this? Or do you wanna wait until your memories are fixed?”

You shrugged. Part of you wanted to know, but part of you wanted to keep the bliss of ignorance a little bit longer. “It was that bad, huh?”

“Bad enough that you wanted to forget half of your life to get rid of it.”

You couldn’t imagine what sweet Sammy had done that was so horrible. You couldn’t imagine him hurting you at all. “Yeah. I’m…not sure I want to know yet.”

“I would always choose to know, agapite mou. Knowledge is the only way to move forth,” a sweet, lovely voice said.

You turned to look up at the most beautiful woman you’d ever laid eyes upon, standing next to Hades and a large blonde woman. You stood, feeling warmth in your heart as you gazed up at the brunette. “Persephone?”

“I wish that were not a guess, dear girl,” Persephone said, smiling sadly as she walked forward. “But my cousin has graciously agreed to work her wonders on you.”

The blonde stepped forward as John stood, a coldness in her stance and voice. “Are you worth this?”

“Mnemosyne.” Hades’ voice was a warning.

She rolled her eyes and gestured at the chair you vacated before walking over to stand behind it. Persephone nodded in encouragement and smiled at you, so you sat down.

“Is this gonna be safe?” John asked.

“Is safety something you take stock in, asudden?” Hades asked.

“Point taken.”

Hands covered your eyes, taking your vision with darkness.

~~~

“Do you really want to know?” John’s voice echoed in your head. Opening your eyes, you found yourself in Bobby’s study, lying on the sofa. You sat up and looked over at the only other person in the room. It was John, but he looked so much younger than he did before you fell asleep. Maybe 25 years old. He looked handsome…and you weren’t sure why that didn’t upset you. “You can stay ignorant. You have the option to stay happy.”

“I’m not happy.”

“You only think that because I told you you weren’t happy. Come on. I’m a man you barely remember; a man your father told you to stay away from.”

You shook your head and stood. You could tell this wasn’t John. This was a memory or a representation. “John, or whoever you are, I might not be able to remember you, but I remember your sons. I remember Dean…and if I’m going to die soon, I need to get him back from Purgatory.”

“So you’ve got cancer. Big fucking deal. People survive the big C every day.” It was so nonchalant and cavalier. It didn’t seem right coming from him. “Why don’t you take your chances with the doctors and chemo?”

You scoffed. “No. I’m sorry, but no. Dean needs me.”

“Okay, fine. Where do you wanna start?” You turned behind you to see Sam Winchester standing in the doorway to the kitchen. He was young, too, maybe 22. He stepped away from the partition and ran his hand through his hair. “Because there’s a lot, Y/n, and I’m not just talkin’ about what we did to you. I’m talking about Hell.”

You swallowed as fear rose in you like a lava flow. “Hell?”

He nodded, a small smirk on his lips. “Hell. You know…downstairs.” Sam pointed at the floorboards. “Fire, brimstone, torture. I’m talking about a distortion of time that made it seem like hundreds of years while demons carved chunks out of you over and over with no sign of relief.” He stepped closer and the smirk turned into a sad, tight smile. “You don’t want to remember that, Y/n.”

“No. I don’t. But…”

“You have to.” Sam shook his head, his fluffy hair swaying a bit. “I get it. You don’t know who you are because you think there’s so much of you missing.”

“There is a lot-”

“Death replaced all of it. Everything he took away, he replaced, Y/n,” Sam insisted. There was an insistence in his voice, a sadness in his eyes. He seemed so much like the boy you remembered that you couldn’t help but wonder what became of him after he came back into your life. What was he hiding? “He took away your pain. He gave you a normal life. Don’t invite the pain back.”

“It’s done, Sam. I’m here. I know that I’m missing pieces. I can’t go back to pretending! So where do we start?!” you exploded. “What did you do to me, Sam Winchester? Why did I forget you?”

He sighed and dropped to the couch you woke up on, sprawling his long legs out and scratching at his head. “You know, I knew you loved my brother the moment I saw you two together. There was so much tension and neither of you would say why but I saw it. It was a few months after I got back into hunting and I was still broken up about Jessica so it didn’t feel like I was losing much when I noticed the way you looked at him in the diner.” He shook his head in exasperation. “You wouldn’t say it, because of course you wouldn’t, and Dean couldn’t see it because he thinks he’s garbage, but I saw it. And I…I ignored it. Because it only took one smell of you when you went into heat for me to remember how much your scent used to turn me on. I wanted you, Y/n, and something in me…that deep, dark, controlling, angry part of me that Azazel put in me when I was a baby…it told me I could take you.”

A flash of sickly yellow eyes went through your mind at the name ‘Azazel,’ and you gasped. Memories of torture and hellfire welled up and turned to nausea in your chest.

“Dean didn’t make it difficult, really,” Sam continued. “He practically threw you at me. You didn’t want me. You didn’t love me, but…I took you, anyway. Every chance I got.”

A quick succession of images went through your mind: you and Sam in an apple orchard, you and Sam kissing beside Dean’s hospital bed, you and Sam in the back of the Impala. You looked away at Bobby’s desk, hoping to find comfort in the stacks of books and clutter.

“But then you went to Hell. You went to Hell for Dean, and that burned me up inside, ya know? It would have been one thing if you’d just gotten killed for him. God knows we’ve had enough of that in our lives, but you, you sentenced yourself to unimaginable torture for him…and you did it with a smile on your lips because you thought he deserved to live more than you did. Dean paid it forward to me, wanted me to live because he just couldn't live with me gone." You chewed on your bottom lip and let out a huffing sigh. “You got back just in time to fail to save him, and I thought you would be mine after he went down. You should have been mine after he went down, but you fled, and you fell apart, and you left me to fall apart alone. I was alone! Of course, I wound up in a relationship with Ruby!” His words were filled with accusation and blame.

Blond hair and red lips flashed in your mind. Brown hair and pretty eyes. Blood covering Sam’s mouth. A wild look in his eyes.

A memory hit you like a Mack truck.

“You marked me!” you accused right back.

“I had to!” He jumped up, anger rolling off of him. He looked older, his body thicker and more alpha than before. “You were supposed to be mine, and you were being disrespectful by denying me!”

You scoffed at the idea that he had to mark you to make you respect his imagined claim to you. “Are you kidding me?! You bit me! I had to turn to your father to curb my heats! I-”

“You were mine! Dean was in Hell! You had no reason to deny me anymore!”

“I obviously did! You forced me to be your mate like we were back in the 17th century! Am I not a human being to you?!”

“You’re not really a human being to any of us, honestly.” You turned your attention to the kitchen where Dean Winchester was leaning against the counter, a coffee mug in his hand. “I mean, whether we love you or just want you, the Winchesters historically don’t do well with seeing you as more than just an omega.”

Your heart fell a bit as you walked toward the kitchen. “Dean, I-”

“You’re lookin’ good, Y/n…, but you’re not doin’ too good, are you?”

You swallowed. “I’m sick, but…that’s not a big deal. I’m…looking for you. I’m…”

He smiled a little and reached back to set the mug on the counter. “I appreciate it. I spent a long time looking for you before I got stuck in Purgatory, but…” He shook his head. “Baby, you don’t have to do this. I’m not worth throwing away your perfect life.”

“My life’s not perfect. I’m not happy.”

“You keep sayin’ that, but why do you trust my dad over your own heart, huh? You thought you were happy before you got sick, and he showed up, right?” Dean crossed his arms over his chest and looked across the kitchen at you. “Dad’s not any more trustworthy than Sam or me. You cut him out of your life before too.”

You swallowed thickly and chewed on your bottom lip for a second before taking a deep breath. “Why? What did John do?”

“What do you think he did? Remember what we told you about him when we were growing up. What do you think he did to you?” You looked down at the ugly tile floor. Dean’s boots entered your vision as you thought about it. The biggest complaints the boys had about their father were neglect and abuse. “So you’re going to take the word of an abusive piece of shit like John Winchester over your own emotions? You’re not that dumb, kid.”

“I knew something was missing,” you whispered. “I knew something wasn’t right. I…” You looked up, getting caught in his beautiful eyes. “He cares about me. John didn’t mean to hurt me.” You knew that in your heart.

“You know…he never meant to hurt me, either, or Sammy. But he did, didn’t he? He hurt everyone he ever came across. He left a trail of bodies a mile wide, and we just let him get away with it. Why are you so determined to be a body on the pile, Y/n?”

“It’s not for John…it’s for you.” You looked away. “Ya know what, though? John did horrible things, but he has also saved a lot of lives.” You looked back up into his eyes. “We’ve all done horrible things! We’re hunters, Dean! There’s been collateral damage, broken hearts and destroyed lives. There’s a few hundred people that probably think we’re the worst thing that ever happened to them, and that is no one’s fault. It is the nature of the job!”

“You’re making a mistake,” Sam said, forcing your attention to the study again. He was younger again, his face sad. “You can still be normal. Don’t you know what I would give to be normal, Y/n? Anything. Everything. I would sacrifice-”

“I don’t want normal; I want Dean!” you exploded.

“Your choice is made,” echoed through the house.

~~~

You gasped as your eyes snapped open. You looked across the room at John, Hades, and Persephone. Your emotions were a tempest, and you were exhausted. The trio looked hopeful, but there was little hope in your heart. Everything hurt. All of the memories that Death had so carefully hidden from your consciousness were warring at the forefront of your mind now.

“Did it work?” John asked, stepping around Hades. You nodded, not trusting yourself to speak without breaking down and bursting into tears. “Welcome back, baby girl.” He seemed to understand that it wasn’t necessarily the joyous occasion that it might have been.

“Are you well?” Hades asked, walking up and taking your hands as Mnemosyne walked around to stand beside her cousin.

You shook your head. “I’m as well as I can be…” You sniffled and chewed on your bottom lip for a moment. “I’m…me, I guess.”

“Thank God.” John rushed forward and hugged you, but you just shook your head before pushing him away lightly.

“We need to get ready to go.”

“Wait. We need to-” he started, but you stepped backward.

“We brought me back so that we could save Dean! We have to go to Purgatory!”

“Breathe, agapite mou,” Persephone said, walking over and taking your hands in hers. Every motion was meant to be calming and soothing. “You’re feeling overly emotional.”

“You asked for this, mortal. Your mind tried to shield you but you would not heed.”

You turned to glare at Mnemosyne. “I also asked for what Death did to me!” You took a deep breath and tried to calm yourself as you focused on Hades’ bearded face. “I’m sorry. I’m just…overwhelmed. I’m sorry. I asked for all of this.”

John walked forward and wrapped his arms around you. “You need to take some time and come back to yourself, darlin’.”

“No. We need to go to-”

Hades grabbed your shoulders, easily wrenching you from John’s grasp and pulling you into a tight embrace. “Listen to my wife, my girl. You need to breathe.”

You took a deep breath at his urging, resting your head against his chest as you worked to calm yourself. It wasn’t until you let out the second long exhale that you started to sob into his chest. “It’s so hard!”

Hades rubbed his hand up and down your back until you stopped crying. “Is that better, louloudi mou?”

You sniffled as you stepped back away from him. “Thank you. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to…show weakness.”

“You’re allowed to cry,” John said, stepping up.

“No. There’s so much-”

He shook his head. “There’s been some hard facts that you had to find out over the last few hours. You are allowed.”

You wiped at your eyes and sighed. “I’m fine.” You cleared your throat. “Let’s go get ready to head out.”

“We have to talk about that, actually,” John said, looking between the god and goddess of the Underworld.

A cold feeling fell over you as Hades nodded solemnly. “What?”

“Only one of us can cross into Purgatory.” Your face fell as John licked his lips. “It takes a lot of power to get there and Hades can’t take us both.”

“No.” You shook your head. It was a blow you couldn’t deal with. Only one of you heading into Purgatory? Trying to navigate that place with no support was going to be Hell. “N-no. We need-”

“I’ll go,” John volunteered. “He’s my son and I should be the one to-”

“No. Are you stupid?” you snapped. You scratched at your scalp and looked away, feeling ashamed at letting your emotions continue to be wild. “I am dying of cancer. You need to stay here and protect the people here. I will take my dying ass to somewhere worse than Hell and get your son back.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

You rolled your eyes and turned to Hades. “I’m going to grab some equipment and then you can take me.” Hades just nodded without a word, so you went into a rush to grab a camping bag, provisions, and a hunter’s toolkit that Bobby gave you. Even your other self kept a hold of that kit.

“You’re not dying,” John said when you emerged from the back of the house. He seemed resigned, not trying to keep you from going. “You’re sick, but you aren’t dying.”

“I have cancer, John,” you said, matter-of-factly. “I’m dying.” You turned to Hades and smiled tightly. “Let’s go.”

“You will survive that, just as you will survive Purgatory, louloudi mou.” You reached out and took Hades’ offered hand and the world swirled around you. A grey and brown forest appeared. “There is an exit. To the South, there is an exit, just for humans to escape Purgatory. Find Dean and take him to the door.”

You nodded, adjusting your backpack straps and looking around. “Thank you so much.”

“This land is filled with monsters, Y/n. Care for yourself.”

“I will. Thank you.”

As Hades disappeared, you took a deep breath, hoping that you could calm the intense feeling of being watched. As you looked around the trees surrounding you, you knew that feeling was going nowhere, because you were being watched by every set of eyes in Purgatory.

[sprout-fics]

Alpha Price who gets a new alpha to the team under his command, with a warning on her file that speaks of a record of insubordination and bucking authority. Price narrowing his eyes because he does not tolerate that kind of attitude on his team, but signing off on the paperwork anyways because the other alpha's record is impressive.

Price quickly realizing that this new alpha isn't insubordinate so much as bratty. She has a rankled kind of attitude where she throws her weight around, is confrontational, and sometimes gets on the team's nerves. It's admirable, however, the way she doesn't back down, always squares up to the bigger alphas, doesn't step back from a confrontation. It's clear at a glance that she's doing it only because she's defensive and insecure.

Price slowly piecing together that this alpha has had to contend with her stronger, bigger, male alpha peers who see her as inferior due to being a woman. He realizes she's developed an attitude as a self preservation mechanism, a way to stake her place and earn her right to be there purely through alpha posturing. He gives her some grace because of this, but said alpha sees it only as dismissive, ignoring her.

Said alpha pushing, and pushing until Price's patience finally snaps- full alpha instincts making him corner the smaller alpha, growling a warning low and deep in his chest. He expects his subordinate to snarl back at him, only to pause and blink when her scent floods with arousal. He watches as her eyes grow wide, a deferential little whine forcing its way up her throat, knees wobbling and trying to stay upright as he backs her into a wall.

Price realizing that what this alpha needs is to be manhandled and put in her place- to be reduced to whimpering, shaking mess by a stronger, more powerful alpha who reassures her that she's safe, that she doesn't have to earn her place. She needs someone to mutter filthy, debauched praises in her ear as he ruts into her, watches her eyes go glassy and mindless the way she deserves.

Price realizing he's more than willing to be that alpha.

[nuctua-larc]

Sleepy guys...

[soaps-mohawk]

Cherry Red, Crimson Blood

Chapter 4 - You Can Be Useful

Summary: You have a long weekend that ends rather unexpectedly. Perhaps that’s not such a bad thing. 

Pairing: Poly 141 x reader

Warnings: Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, Alternate Universe, a/b/o typical classism and sexism, military inaccuracies, suggestive content, language, some brief violence at the end.

A/N: I'm in a bit of a crisis so you're getting a bonus chapter this week. It's a beefy one and I wrote like 90% of it yesterday, just had the brain sludge by the time I was close to finishing and decided to rest before I finished and edited. Things are starting to get a big suggestive here, so as a reminder, this fic will have NSFW content in later chapters so please do not interact with it if you are under 18. I'd hate to have to block you.

MASTERLIST | <- Previous | Next ->

“How are you settling in?” 

“Fine.” You shrug. 

“Any instinct to nest at all?” 

You shake your head. “No.” 

“That’s fine.” Dr. Keller says, writing something down. “It’s only been just over a week. Have you started kneeling for Captain Price yet?” 

You shake your head again. “No.” 

Dr. Keller tilts her head. “Why not?” 

You shrug again. “He hasn’t brought it up.” 

“Is that something you’d like to start doing?” 

Her question catches you off guard again. You’re not used to being asked what you want, afterall you’re an omega. That’s not important. You’re here to serve. To do as you’re told. You remember watching your mother kneel for your father while he watched TV, her dazed, glazed over eyes staring at nothing as he almost seemed to hypnotize her into the shell of a perfect omega. It was your first taste of truly how much power alphas could hold over omegas. One hand on the back of your neck and it’s over. 

“I...I don’t know.” You say, picking at your sleeve. 

“You’re allowed to want things too.” Dr. Keller leans forward just slightly, giving you a smile. “I highly doubt Captain Price will make much of a fuss if you ask for something you need. He cares about you. If he didn’t, you wouldn’t be sitting here alone.” She tilts her head at you, watching you pick at your sleeve. “Is there anything you want or maybe need that you haven’t asked for?” 

Softer blankets. A fluffier pillow. Different body wash and shampoo. New clothes. A picture or a poster or something to make your room seem less clinical. Your instincts to finally start kicking in. Price to want you as much as he’s supposed to. Ghost to like you. To go back in time and let Soap kiss you. 

To go back in time and never present as an omega. 

“No.” You finally answer, shaking your head. “I’m fine.” 

Dr. Keller stares at you for a long moment. You avoid her gaze, picking at the seam of your sleeve. “I know you’re going to get tired of me saying this, but it’s important that you understand that this is a safe space for you. Everything that we discuss, everything that you say in here stays between you and me. Doctor-patient confidentiality is something I firmly believe in, even when it comes to alpha/omega relationships. Okay?” 

“Yes, ma’am.” You say quietly, still avoiding her gaze. 

She continues to stare at you for a moment before she leans back on the couch again, shuffling some papers around. “The two betas, Sergeant Garrick and Sergeant MacTavish. How are you getting along with them?” She continues with her questions.

“Fine.” You lean back in your chair, hoping it might swallow you whole. “They’re easiest to get along with.” 

Dr. Keller nods. “Good. I’m a strong advocate for organic pack bonding. Helps avoid any dynamic struggles or false instincts down the line. How are you sleeping?” 

“Fine I guess.” You shrug. “I nap a lot.” 

“There’s nothing wrong with that. Omegas need a lot of sleep and I can imagine adjusting to a new schedule has been rough.” Dr. Keller moves the papers to the couch next to her, looking up at you. “Is there anything you want to talk about?” 

You hesitate, pulling at the seam of your sleeve. It’s beginning to unravel a bit from your nervous picking. You’ll have to fix it. Dr. Keller is right, though. You could just ask for a new one. Price had told you they had a budget for your needs, plus they do get paid well. Anything you needed, they would gladly get for you. 

You just have to ask. 

It’s the asking that you’re not sure you can do. It feels strange to ask anything of your new pack. They’re supposed to be the ones needing things from you. If Soap had wanted to kiss you, he could have. Instead he left it up to you. He let you decide. You wonder if Price’s hesitation to move forward has been because he’s waiting on you. 

They’re all waiting on you, except maybe Ghost. They’re waiting on you to make the first moves, on you to set the pieces on the board. What is the first move? How do you set the pieces? Did you even need to? Would they fall into place organically if you just left them alone? Or would the tension continue to build up, would you continue to affect them until it became too much and the pressure causes everything to blow? 

“I’m affecting them.” You say, the words slipping out before you can stop them. 

Dr. Keller tilts her head as she stares at you. “What do you mean?” 

“They’re soldiers. They’re good soldiers with years and years of training, that’s why they're here. But...but I’m changing that. I asked Price if I could go with them and watch them run a training course cause I read in a book that I should get to know them and the things they like and so I was just curious what they do during the day when I’m not with them. He let me watch and he told me their top speeds running the training course but...none of them met those times with me there.”

You take a deep breath, the words pouring out of you easily now. You feel as if you’re not even thinking of them, not even measuring them or using caution as you normally would in any conversation. They’re slipping out from somewhere deep inside and now that you’ve opened that dam, you can’t stop it. 

“Price made them run through it five times and they still couldn’t match their top speeds. He said it was a good thing that they figured that out, that they need to know how I’m affecting them and how to adjust to me. And every time they ran through it, I couldn’t stop thinking about...” 

You take another breath, the air catching in your lungs. Your fingers are shaking, your body sinking deeper and deeper into the chair, almost as if you’re trying to get it to swallow you whole. As if the chair might wrap its arms around you and pull you into its softness and keep you there until you can’t breathe and it suffocates you. 

“What if it was me? What if they were having to rescue me? I know that’s a risk, a low one, but it’s still a risk. The CIA and Kate warned me that I could become a target if the wrong person found out about me. That’s why I can’t know anything about what they do because that puts me at more of a risk, and I could be a threat to them and the entire world if something got out that wasn’t supposed to.” 

You’re breathing heavily as the words finally come to a stop. Dr. Keller’s eyes are shining with sympathy as she stares at you. This is the most you’ve ever opened up to her, the most words you feel you’ve ever spoken to her in the two times now that you’ve met.

It feels good. It feels really good to voice your thoughts and your fears to someone on the outside, someone you can trust won’t tell anyone. You couldn’t voice these fears to your pack. They’re used to this kind of thing. They live with the knowledge they could die at any point, that any mission might be their last. How many lives have they seen lost, how many close calls have they had? You’ve seen scars already on arms, hands, faces. How many others are hidden where you can’t see? 

How many scars do they have inside, too? 

“I want you to know that your fears are very valid.” Dr. Keller says, her voice soft. “Being involved in the military comes with a lot of risks, and then you get to places like this and those risks only get greater and greater. I can’t promise you that something like that won’t ever happen, because we have no way of knowing. The risk is not zero for a reason.” 

Dr. Keller stands from the couch, moving to the chair next to you. The calming beta scent washes over you, and you know you have to be stinking up the room. She turns the chair slightly to face you, leaning forward onto her knees. You can see the imprints on the sides of her nose from where she’d been wearing glasses earlier. 

“That risk is also only low for a reason. Your identity has been well hidden, just like those of your pack’s. You’re on a well protected and secure military base. This place is a black square on Google Maps. I know, I tried looking it up when I found out where I was being assigned.” She reaches out, squeezing your arm gently. “And I highly doubt your pack would ever let anything happen to you. Packs are highly protective over their omegas. Even bad alphas can’t fight that instinct when their pack is threatened. Your pack would quite literally go to war for you.” 

She is right, you know she is. Yet that fear continues to wiggle at the back of your mind. You know they’d never let anything happen to you, but they’re going to start leaving soon. What if something happens while they’re not here? Who will help you then? The other soldiers? The betas that stare and the alphas that catcall you? 

“I guess you’re right.” You say, continuing to pick at your sleeve. At this rate, by the time your heat starts, you’ll have unraveled the whole sweatshirt.  

The buzz of your phone on your nightstand pulls you from your half asleep state. Your book is on the floor, having dropped from your hands and slid off your bed as you drifted off. Your lamp is still on, casting a warm glow around your room. You prefer the softer light compared to the fluorescent overhead, as most omegas do. There’s something too clinical and sterile about fluorescents. 

You grab your phone, pushing yourself up onto your elbow as you try to blink the sleepiness away. It’s not terribly late, but you’ve been feeling the exhaustion all day since your conversation with Dr. Keller. 

“Be ready by 0500 tomorrow. Wear something meant for the outdoors.” 

It’s a text from Price, your brow furrowing as you read it over. Five in the morning on a Saturday? That’s the earliest you’ve had to get up since your arrival on base. And wear something meant for the outdoors? You can only imagine what he has planned for the day you had been planning on spending sleeping. 

You make a quiet noise of indignation as you text back in confirmation, setting an alarm so you can be ready by 5 am. Not up by 5 am, ready by 5 am. You have half a mind to call him, or to text back asking why he feels you need to be up before the sun. You know that’s the normal time they begin their mornings during the week, usually when you hear them up and moving around, getting ready to go work out. That’s usually when you roll over and go back to sleep for another hour and a half before your own alarm gets you up for breakfast. 

You pout a little as you set your phone back on your nightstand, reaching down to grab your book and set it next to your phone. You lay back down on your bed, turning off your lamp and bathing the room in darkness. Well, it’s not totally dark. The light from the lamp outside shines in your window, casting cold shadows across the walls and floor. You’ve never been a fan of total darkness. You’d grown used to having some light in the room at The Institute. One of your roommates had insisted on having a nightlight, and there were many nights you were grateful for it as you laid awake at the mercy of your racing mind. 

A nightlight. 

You add it to the mental list of things you want, but you’ll never feel brave enough to ask for. 

Your alarm rings too early in the morning, your hand lifting to silence it quickly. 4:30 am doesn’t feel like a real time as you rise in darkness, hand fumbling for the switch to your lamp. You glare into the dimly lit room, trying to blink the sleepiness from your eyes. How desperately you want to curl back up under the blankets and sleep until someone knocks on the door to check on you because you’ve slept so long into the day. 

You don’t doubt Price will knock in about 30 minutes to get you up. He’ll be disappointed if you ignore him, you think. He wouldn’t punish you if you went against his wishes, would he? 

You don’t know that. 

You haven’t even thought to push that boundary, nor have you discussed it. You don’t want to. You’re a good omega. 

You’re a good omega. 

You repeat it over and over as you get yourself ready, splashing cold water on your face to wake yourself up. You silently thank Kate as you pull on a pair of cargo pants and hiking boots, assuming that’s what Price means by “something meant for the outdoors.” Had she bought the items in anticipation of something like this happening? You are on a military base. You should have expected you’d be pulled into something like this eventually. 

You’re debating on a jacket by the time the knock comes, right at 5 am. You wonder how long Price has been standing in the hallway, or if he’s perfected arriving right on the dot after years of expected punctuality. You decide on the jacket after checking the weather, slipping it on as you open the door. He hadn’t mentioned needing anything, not that you own any sort of supplies for the outdoors anyway. 

He doesn’t say anything as you open the door, instead motioning with his head to follow. You quietly close your door, expecting the others to be waiting for you, but their doors are all closed and they’re nowhere to be seen. You feel slightly nervous as you follow Price out into the cold morning air, glad you decided on the jacket as your breath steams from your lips. 

Price is dressed in his usual boots and cargo pants with a cargo jacket and a beanie instead of a bucket hat. There’s two packs leaning against the side of the building, Price grabbing one and approaching you. 

“What are we doing?” You ask quietly as he helps you put on the backpack, buckling it across your chest. 

“Going for a hike.” He says, putting on the other backpack. 

“Why?” You ask as he turns on a flashlight, handing it to you before turning on another one for himself. 

“I’ll explain when we get there.” He says simply, motioning for you to follow him. 

You hesitate for half a moment. A hike in the dark? The base is surrounded by forest, but you sometimes forget due to the sprawling nature of the buildings, and your usual ventures outside the barracks being to either the mess or the medical center, all of which were central on the base. 

Why does he feel the need to hike in the dark? Surely it’s more dangerous, especially for someone not quite so physically inclined like you. If he wanted to go on a hike, why hadn’t he just said that to begin with? Maybe he would have, had you asked why last night instead of just immediately agreeing. 

Going into the woods alone in the dark with an alpha you barely know. 

Anxiety twists in your stomach for a moment before you force your feet forward, walking fast to catch up to him. He leads you down one of the roads on base, your boots crunching as the ground changes from asphalt to gravel. Your anxiety doesn’t lessen any as the trees loom high above you in the darkness, the forest like a black void before you. 

Your brain thinks up all the land predators that might exist in England. Do they have bears? You’ve seen Brave, but that’s in Scotland. What about big cats like cougars or mountain lions? Are there racoons in England? 

You’re on a military base, you think. Surely they have means to keep out large predators that might be dangerous. 

Your pack won’t let anything happen to you. 

Dr. Keller’s words float through your mind as you follow Price through the underbrush and into the trees. You’re not following any path, at least that you can see, though your experiences in the outdoors have been very limited since you left home. Your dad liked to camp and hike, and often you and your siblings were subjected to his weekend and holiday trips into the wilderness. 

You missed them in the early days at the Institute. You missed a lot of things back then. 

“What’s eating you back there?” Price asks as you weave through trees and underbrush. 

“There’s nothing...dangerous out here...is there, sir?” You ask, narrowly avoiding taking a branch to the face. “Bears or mountain lions?” 

Price chuckles. “The worst thing you might find is a stray badger or a snake that got through the fence somehow.” 

“Oh.” You say, shining the flashlight around you. “That’s good.” 

Price stops, turning to face you. “You’re fretting.” 

“Well, we’re in the woods in the dark at an ungodly hour and you won’t tell me why, sir.” You pout. 

“Do you trust me?” He asks, staring down at you with a hard look in his eyes. 

You stare up at him, your grip tightening on the flashlight in your hand. “Should I trust you?” 

He straightens up a bit, the corner of his lips twitching. “That’s something you have to decide.” He turns back around, starting to walk again. “All I can do is my best to try and prove myself to you. In the end, you’re the one that decides if I’m trustworthy or not.” 

You’ve never thought of it that way. He could do everything in his power to get you to trust him, but in the end it is your decision. He hasn’t proven you wrong yet, but then again...it’s only been a week. You’ve known him for a week and you’re following him through the woods alone in the dark. 

Your brothers would have a fit if they saw you right now. 

“Do you trust me?” You find yourself asking as you continue to trek through the woods, narrowly avoiding hurting yourself on various occasions. 

“You haven’t given me reason not to.” He answers, turning his head slightly to look at you over his shoulder. “I’d prefer it stayed that way.” 

“I don’t think you have to worry about that, sir. I hardly think I’m much of a threat on any term. Well, at least I don’t think I am. Ghost seems to disagree.” 

Price lets out a quiet huff, shaking his head. “Simon...Simon is a unique case. He’s good at his job, but that makes it hard for him to succeed in other areas. I’m sure Johnny has told you how much Simon couldn’t stand him at first. Now look at them.” He chuckles warmly, almost fondly. “He only sees you as a threat in your nature.” 

You frown, glancing up at the sky. It’s beginning to turn grey with dusk, the trees seeming to come alive around you in the dim light. “What do you mean by that, sir?” 

“You’re an omega. To bond with an omega, there is a degree of vulnerability required by the alpha. Being around omegas requires an openness that can be frightening if you’re not used to it.” He explains. “I’m not sure if you’ve noticed, but Simon isn’t the most open man.” 

You snort quietly. “Hadn’t noticed, sir.” 

Price chuckles at your answer. “You’re threatening to him, because you’re a challenge. Give him time. This entire situation is an adjustment for all of us, just as I’m sure it is for you too.” 

You don’t know how to respond to that statement. It is an adjustment. Joining any pack was, but a pack like this...a pack that has you tramping through the woods at 6 am for a reason you don’t even know yet is a major adjustment. 

Price stops after the sun has come up, taking a moment next to an outcropping of rocks. He clips your flashlight to your bag before unzipping it, passing you a bottle of water. You take it gladly, your mouth feeling dry after walking for so long. 

“How much further?” You ask as he drinks his own water. 

“Quite a ways.” He answers. 

“Can I know why we’re doing this yet?” You ask as he zips your water back into your backpack. 

“Not yet.” He says, continuing onward.

You let out an exasperated sigh, but follow him anyway. You don’t have much of a choice. 

Your legs are beginning to get tired, and you’re starting to feel a bit hungry. You’re not sure if you should say anything, or if he’d even stop. You assume he’s packed food, or at least you hope so. You’re going to get grumpy if you’re traversing all over the forest for hours with nothing to eat. 

Price slows his pace a bit as you approach what you think is a clearing. You can see a break in the trees ahead, the sun coming through brighter here. You’re sore and tired, your phone telling you you’ve been walking for just over two hours. 

How big is this base?

You break through the treeline, finding a small clearing with what looks like a fire watch tower in the middle of it. It’s not what you were expecting, the many scenarios of why you had been dragged out of bed at an ungodly hour and forced to hike through the woods you’ve been thinking up the last two hours, did not end quite like this. You stare up at the tower, your head tilting back to take it in. 

“Not scared of heights, are you?” Price asks, standing beside you. 

“Maybe.” You answer, eyeing the staircase winding around it to get to the top. 

“Come on.” He says, nudging you forward gently. “Up the stairs.” 

The last thing you want to do after walking for two hours is climb a never ending staircase, but you don’t think you have much of a choice. Perhaps you can finally sit once you get to the top, and maybe you’ll even get to eat. 

Price follows behind you as you take the steps, climbing slowly. Your legs are screaming, your feet aching in your boots. You wouldn’t be surprised if they’re bleeding a little, or if you wind up with blisters. You’re breathing heavily by the time you get to the top, sweat beading on your brow. Price doesn’t even seem winded behind you, and you’re sure he could have jogged up the steps if he wanted to. 

The top of the tower is mostly empty except for a small table and two chairs. There’s no windows, the tower open between the railing and the roof. Price sets his bag on the table, unzipping it. You sink into one of the chairs, letting your bag drop to the floor. 

“Can I know why we’re here now?” You ask him. 

“Drink some water and take a breath first.” He says, pulling a couple packets out of his bag. MRE’s. 

You dig your bottle out of your bag, taking note of the other contents inside. A few snack bars, a couple MRE’s of your own, another unopened bottle of water, and a book. There’s things in the other pockets but you don’t bother looking, guzzling down more water. 

You stand from your chair, your legs almost buckling in protest as Price gets the MRE’s cooking. You lean against the railing, looking down over the forest that stretches out as far as you can see below. 

“Can I know now?” You ask, knowing there has to be a good reason for him to bring you out here. 

“A training exercise.” He says finally. 

“A training exercise?” You frown, turning to look at him over your shoulder. It wasn’t a training exercise for you, was it? 

“Sometimes when we get a specific target on a mission, the only thing we have to go off of is a general location and a scent.” He explains. “We have to be able to track that scent effectively, sometimes for miles. We run training exercises out here to test their ability to track scents to hunt down a target.” 

You stare at the sprawling woods, beginning to understand. “So, they’re hunting a scent that will lead them here?” 

Price chuckles lowly, his hands coming to rest on the railing on either side of you. Your stomach flutters as he leans in close, his scent strong in your nose as his breath fans your ear. “Technically, they’re hunting you.” 

Your knuckles go white as they grip the railing, your blood pulsing in your veins. You’re well aware that some alphas like to hunt their omegas. There’s some primal urge deep within your brains to chase and be chased. You’re well aware of how it usually ends, the thought making your stomach clench. 

“You gave me the idea.” Price says, the warmth of his body radiating through your jacket. “When you asked to watch them train, I saw how you affected them, I thought...maybe you can be useful for their training afterall.” 

“Do they...do they know it’s me?” You ask as he steps back from you. You fight the urge to whine at the loss of proximity. 

“They do now.” He says with a smirk. “They’ve already started, so if they can follow your scent successfully, then they’ll be here in about an hour.” He says, looking at his watch. 

You frown a little. “But...we walked for two hours.” 

He smiles a little, pointing to a break in the trees below you hadn’t noticed until now. “That trailhead is a 20 minute hike back to base.” 

Your frown deepens. “But-” 

“We weren’t walking in a straight line.” He explains. “We doubled back and recrossed the trail several times to try and confuse them, just as someone running from them would do.” He passes you one of the MRE’s. “That’s what I want you to do, if it ever comes to it. You don’t fight unless you have no other choice. You always try to run first.” 

“Yes, sir.” You say, sitting down again. You don’t think you’d do much damage fighting anyway, but you don’t tell him that. 

You open the package, peeking at the contents. Some sort of potato hash, you think, but you don’t really care. You’re so hungry you’ll gladly eat the mystery re-hydrated food. Price sinks into the other chair with a quiet sigh, digging into the food. It’s quiet out in the woods, the only other sound besides the two of you the sounds of birds. 

You’ve always loved the woods, the quiet serenity of such isolation. You could imagine Price living in a log cabin miles from civilization, with animals and his own garden, happily living in quiet peace away from the stresses of life and war. You blame the fluttering in your stomach on the lingering thoughts of a chase, of a hunt. The thought of running, trying to evade soldiers who train to hunt others by their scents has goosebumps forming on your skin. 

They’re not from the cold either. 

The sun has disappeared behind clouds, the grey weather of England quickly becoming normal to you. You haven’t seen the sun much since you landed in London two weeks ago, and you’re sure you’re not going to see much of it for quite a long while. 

“What’s got you all twitchy over there?” Price asks, breaking the silence. 

You turn to look at him, your mouth open a bit in surprise. “How can you tell?” 

“I’ve been trained to notice small details, sweetheart.” He says, grinning at you. “Your fingers always get fidgety first. Like you’re looking for something to do with them. Usually they disappear beneath your sleeves, or you start picking at your clothes. Your scent changes too. Subtly, but still noticeable.” 

Oh god. You wince a little bit. He can still smell you, even outdoors in an open area. 

“Your eyes start to move, looking all over the place, like you’re searching for something, or trying not to stare at one place too long.” He continues, making you want to sink deeper and deeper into the chair until you disappear. Of course he can read you like a book. They all probably can. “Your breathing always picks up, fast enough it’s noticeable if you’re paying attention. It’s easy to set you off too, sweet little thing.” 

Warmth floods your face at his words and his stare, the back of your neck prickling. You meet his gaze across the table, the look in his eyes making you feel like you want to crawl under the table and hide. You hate that he can read you so easily. You won’t be able to hide anything from him. 

He probably knows you already have. 

You continue to hold his gaze, not backing down despite the intense tickling at the back of your neck. Touch alphas like a challenge, you repeat it over and over in your head. 

Don’t back down. 

Don’t back down. 

Don’t back down. 

A quiet growl rumbles through his chest, a shiver shooting down your spine so violently it nearly steals your breath. You fight the urge to bear your throat to him in submission, your head tilting back just slightly as your eyes squeeze closed. You’re panting, warmth pooling in your stomach as he chuckles lowly. He’s won, he knows it. You were never going to win. Nature was set against you. Your nature is to submit to him. 

“Innocent little thing, aren’t ya?” He says, pulling a cigar from one of his pockets. 

You know he smokes, you know they all do. You’ve smelled it on them many times, and it was to be expected. Your father hadn’t started until after he joined the Marines. Your mother hated it. “Dirty habit.” She always whispered as she smelled his uniform and the laundry he brought home from deployment. 

He could have had worse ones, you always thought. 

You can’t help but watch his lips curl around the cigar, the scent of tobacco permeating the air. His eyes are still on you, your own lips tingling a bit. You think back to how close you had been with Soap, inches from having your first real kiss. You regret it a bit now, not letting him kiss you. He wouldn’t have known he was your first, except perhaps by your awkwardness. 

You wonder how many times they’ve all been kissed. You wonder how many times they've kissed each other. You wonder how many barrack bunnies Price has been with, how many other omegas he’s been with. You can’t imagine Ghost being one for barrack bunnies, but then your mind sinks somewhere deeper. Ghost in his mask with an omega bent over the side of his bed, his hand wrapped around the back of their neck... 

Another shiver runs down your spine, your lower body beginning to pulse in time with your heart. 

“What’s going through that head of yours?” Price asks, still staring at you. 

“Soap almost kissed me a couple days ago.” You admit, not trusting yourself not to admit to the other things you’re thinking about. 

Price’s brows lift in surprise. “Did you not want him to?” 

Want. There’s that word again. You keep hearing it, but you’re not entirely sure what it means anymore. He’s asking to be sure that Soap didn’t force you into anything, even though you can’t imagine the beta doing such a thing. Betas usually weren’t aggressive without good reason, not like alphas. 

“Well...no, that’s not it...” You say, your face burning as you begin to regret your choice of topic. “I...I haven’t kissed anyone before...well, not like a real kiss. At The Institute, there was this omega, she was...progressive. Nothing they tried could break her of that and she got into the heads of a few other omegas. One of my bunkmates decided she didn’t want an alpha to be her first kiss, so...I volunteered.” 

Price continues to stare at you, a dark look in his eyes. You know some alphas like to watch omegas together. You’ve seen it in movies, things your brothers would put on when they were babysitting, things that would have gotten them hit over the head if your father found out. 

“Is that so?” He finally says, flicking some of the ash from the end of his cigar. “Not even a real kiss before you presented?” 

You shake your head. “No. I was...the weird kid in school. Most people considered it social suicide to be around me.” You let out a sarcastic laugh. “I bet quite a few of them are kicking themselves now.” 

“Why didn’t you want Soap to kiss you?” He asks, concern lacing his voice. He’s still wondering if he needs to have a long chat with the young Sergeant, or perhaps take other action. 

“Well...it wasn’t so much that I didn’t want it.” You say. “I just...thought you might be upset...if you weren’t my first...” You swallow nervously at his stare. “Since you’re pack alpha...you have the right to claim-” 

“I wouldn’t care.” He cuts you off, almost as if he’s uncomfortable with the idea of him having all the rights to claim you. As if he was uncomfortable with the idea of holding a claim over someone else. “If you want your first kiss to be with one of the others, then you shouldn’t keep yourself from what you want.” 

His words echo Dr. Keller’s. It confuses you, their willingness to allow you to want. You’re an omega, you don’t get to want. You get told what to do, what to wear. You get told what to want. You don’t make decisions, you sit and be a good omega for your alpha. 

“I don’t know what I want.” You say quietly. 

“Think about it.” He says, stubbing out his cigar. “I won’t be upset. Makes me feel a little better, in truth. Makes me feel less like an old creep trying to steal your innocence.” 

You try not to smile at his words. “I mean...you are, in a way.” 

He tsks at you but his eyes are playful as he checks his watch. “You’re trouble. We’ve got a few minutes before the hour is up. Let’s see if they can beat it.” 

You stare out at the treeline, taking deep gulps of the cool air to try and calm yourself as you wait for the others to arrive. You’re still tingling a bit from your conversation with Price, that slight tickle still crawling across the back of your neck. You want him to hold you there, feel his calloused skin against yours, feel the strength of his fingers as they press into your skin. You want him to take all the turmoil away, the fear and the insecurity and the confusion. 

You want to kneel for him. 

You’re saved from your thoughts as a familiar figure breaks through the treeline, big and hulking and wearing a skull on his face. You’ve never seen him in this mask before, only ever seeing him in his balaclava. It’s a haunting image, only his eyes visible as he looks up at the top of the tower. Soap and Gaz appear behind him, the three of them making for the staircase. 

Their boots echo on the steps as they race to the top, Soap the first one to appear with a wide grin. 

“Aye, we found the target!” He exclaims, wrapping his arms around you and lifting you into the air and spinning.

You yelp, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and hang on for dear life. He smells like musk and sweat, and you can’t help but wonder if they ran here. He sets you back on your feet, your legs aching in protest after sitting for too long. The soreness of your morning hike has caught up to you, and you’ll be feeling it for a few days. 

“Not bad.” Price says, looking at his watch. “For the first time with a new scent.” He grabs his backpack, slinging it over his shoulders. “Come on, let’s get back and you can have the rest of the day off.” 

You let out a whine in protest as Price grabs your backpack, gaining the attention of the four men. “You mean we have to walk back too?” 

“It’s not even a kilometer.” Gaz says with a grin. 

You pout. “I don’t know how far that is! I already had to walk for two hours this morning. My legs hurt.” 

“You didn’t stretch before you started?” Soap asks. 

“No! I didn’t know we’d be hiking halfway across the country when I was told to get up at 5 am!” You continue to pout. 

“Come on, you’ll survive.” Price says, clipping your backpack across your chest again. “You can sleep for the rest of the day.” 

You definitely have blisters, the sides of your feet burning as you walk down the stairs. You’re going to take a very long shower when you get back to base, and then crawl into bed and sleep until someone inevitably knocks because they’re worried about you. You’re still pouting, not having even thought about how you were going to get back to base. 

Soap stops at the bottom of the steps, turning to glance at you behind him as he bends down slightly. “Hop on, hen.” 

It takes you a moment to conceptualize what he’s doing before you break out in a grin, putting your hands on his shoulders to hoist yourself onto his back. His hands grip the backs of your thighs as you wrap your arms around his neck, holding on as he carries you piggy-back style. 

“I’ve lifted weights heavier than you, bonny.” He says, not seeming to struggle at all with carrying you. 

“Well, omegas are supposed to be small.” You say, leaning your head on his shoulder. 

“Aye, like a wee bairn.” Soap laughs. 

He carries you all the way back to base, barely even breathing heavily by the time you break the treeline. The rocking motion of being carried, along with your exhaustion, has lulled you into a daze, your head leaning against his as you desperately fight sleep. 

You’re jostled awake as Soap gently bounces you on his back. “We’re back, hen.” 

You grumble sleepily, holding onto him tighter. “Comfy.” 

“You’ll be comfier in bed, love.” Gaz says, stroking your hair. 

“Carry me.” You murmur, both of them freezing. 

“You sure about that, hen?” Soap asks. “You wan’t tae let us in your space?” 

“Mmm...yeah.” You murmur, nuzzling Soap’s shoulder. 

You miss the silent conversation between them in your half asleep state, the way Gaz’s hand hesitates on the knob, their slow, cautious steps into your space. It was a big deal, infringing upon an omega’s space. It’s sacred. One could only enter with permission, or if it was an emergency. Infringing on that space without permission could be detrimental. 

Soap gently lowers you onto your bed, helping you curl up on your side. Gaz unties your boots, setting them on the floor next to the bed before pulling off your socks. He lets out a quiet hiss as he spots your raw and blistered feet. 

“That’s going to hurt later.” He whispers. “No wonder she didn’t want to walk back.” 

“Didnae say nothing either.” Soap says, his fingers trailing your cheek. 

“Stubborn little omega.” 

Gaz’s words are the last you hear before you’re lost to sleep, your brain forcing you to give in to your exhaustion finally. 

It’s knocking at the door that wakes you. You’re not sure what time it is, or what planet you’re on. Your eyes are crusty with sleep, your pillow damp from drooling. You’re in your bed in the barracks, tucked under a blanket. You vaguely remember giving Gaz and Soap permission to enter before you were out again. 

It’s still daylight, judging by the light around the edges of your curtains. Or maybe you had slept through the day and it was morning. You can’t tell, feeling a bit like you were hit by a bus and jumped dimensions. 

“C’mon lass, ye got tae eat at least one meal today.” Soap’s voice calls through the door. 

You let out a groan, pushing yourself up to sit. You haven’t even changed or showered, but your shoes have been removed. You flex your toes, wincing at the sharp pain from them. You pull the blanket off, staring down at your bandaged feet. They must be as blistered and raw as they had felt in your shoes. You don’t want to get up. You’re going to be sore and probably walking with a limp. 

You know what they’re going to think. 

The stares you’ll get. 

Soon it will be for that reason, though, you think. Why not let them think it now? Then maybe by then they’ll be used to it and it’ll be much less mortifying for you. 

You get up, padding barefoot to the door. You open it, rubbing at your eyes. “What time is it?” Your voice sounds rough with sleep, your tongue feeling heavy. 

“Almost 1800 hours.” He answers. “Price let ye sleep. He and Gaz already ate. Had something tae take care of.” 

You let out a quiet groan as you rub your eyes. You slept all day, past lunch and nearly past dinner. You likely would have kept sleeping, had they let you, but then you’d be up at an ungodly hour having to scrounge for food in the rec room. 

“Get some shoes on.” Soap says. “We’ll get food in ye, then ye can sleep more.” 

You let out a quiet grumble but do as he says, grabbing your most comfortable pair of shoes before following him out of the barracks. You let your hand slip into his, the base less populated on the weekend. The mess is still busy, though, most of those that stay keeping their schedules even over the weekend. 

Soap helps you make your tray before finding Ghost sitting at a table. You deposit your tray across from them before going to grab something to drink. You look over the options, your sleep-drunk brain trying to decide on what you need. 

“I recommend coffee.” A voice says behind you. 

You spin around, looking up at a familiar face. Your stomach twists nervously, the back of your neck prickling. It’s the soldier that had been staring at you your second day on base, the one Ghost had scared off with his glare. 

“You look like you need it.” He says, giving what you assume is supposed to be a friendly smile, except to you it looks like the grin of a hungry wolf in a storybook, and you’re the injured rabbit about to be devoured. You flinch just slightly as he holds out a hand. “I’m Corporal McKinney.” 

You don’t want to take his hand, you don’t want to touch him at all. Catcalling you could handle, the stares and the whistles were nothing. None of them have been so brave as to approach you before now, and you’re starting to realize you prefer it that way. 

An overwhelming scent suddenly washes over you, the prickling at the back of your neck intensifying. It’s rich and deep, the scent of leather and gunpowder lacing the ozone-like tang of anger, of danger. 

“Can I help you, Corporal?” The deep voice rumbles behind you, the warmth close enough all you’d have to do was lean back slightly and you’d be touching him. 

The soldier’s eyes lift from you to Ghost behind you, the wicked gleam to them fading as he stares down the giant alpha. “No, sir.” The soldier swallows thickly. “Just thought I’d introduce myself to the new omega on base. Figured we’d be seeing a lot of her around.” 

“She’s no concern of yours.” Ghost says, a dangerous rumble vibrating at the edge of his voice. “You were given the briefing.” 

He hesitates and you know he’s measuring the risk of staying, of saying something else. It’s not just the threat of a dangerous alpha, but also of his superior. “Of course, sir.” He finally says, eyeing you once more before he turns on his heel, leaving the mess. 

“What do you want?” 

You turn on your heel, staring up at Ghost. You’re shaking a little, staring up at him wide-eyed. You no longer feel the haze of sleep, wide awake and alert. Ghost is staring down at you, his scent far less prominent than it had been before.

“To drink.” He motions to the selection, waiting on you to answer. 

You stare at the options, your brain trying hard to snap back into the present, to comprehend what you’re looking at. You’re on edge, on high alert after that confrontation. 

“W-Water please.” You manage to stutter out, 

“Go sit back down. I’ll get it.” He says, turning his back to you. 

You scurry back to the table, still trembling as you take your seat again. You’re getting stares, likely from the change in your scent. It’s alerting every alpha and beta in close proximity, their instincts reacting to the scent of fear, of an threatened omega. 

“Ye alright, hen?” Soap asks, giving you a worried look. The scent of beta washes over you, Soap projecting his scent to try and cover yours and calm you all at once. 

You nod, trying to swallow the panic before you alert the entire mess to your current emotional state. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m alright.” 

Ghost returns with a glass of water, setting it in front of you before taking his seat again. 

“Thank you.” You murmur, taking a long drink of it. It’s ice cold, the sensation shocking you back into reality a bit. 

You’re still trembling slightly as you eat, the back of your neck still prickling. You glance around the quickly emptying mess, eyes following every person that walks too close to the table. You know you’re safe. Soap and Ghost would make quick work of anyone who tried anything. 

Ghost did make quick work of the alpha that had approached you. 

You’re still in a bit of disbelief that Ghost had come to your aid. You remember the anger burning in his scent, the rumble at the edge of his voice. An alpha poised for a fight. Of course, you were being cornered by another alpha. You don’t doubt Soap could have easily won that fight if he had to, but an alpha had the natural advantage in a fight against other alphas. If it had been a beta cornering you, would he have still come to your aid? Or would he have watched and let Soap handle it? 

You're drawn from your thoughts as Soap’s phone rings, and he dismisses himself from the table to answer it. You wonder who it might be. Family maybe? Price? You wish you had someone that would call you regularly. You will, once they start leaving you. 

You’re left alone with Ghost, your eyes trying to look anywhere but at him. He takes your tray once you’re done, going to dump it before motioning for you to follow. You’re still a bit shaken, though you’ve managed to get your trembling under control, as well as your scent. 

He leads you back towards the barracks, your pace faster to keep up with him. Your feet hurt, but you’re eager to get back to the familiar safety of the barracks. 

You stop as a whistle sounds through the air, Ghost’s steps faltering as well. 

“Gonna go spread your legs for that freak, bunny?” A voice calls out across the courtyard. “I’m sure I could offer you a better time. At least you’ll be able to see my face.” 

The smell of ozone washes over you again, burning straight to some primal part of your brain. You’re not sure if it’s the exhaustion, or the emotions still reeling from your confrontation in the mess, but you turn on your heel, stalking over to the group of soldiers. You’re trembling again, but not out of fear. The anger has gone straight to your instincts, burning hot through your veins. 

The soldiers laugh as you approach, the one that had spoken grinning vilely at you. “Gonna take me up on my offer, omega?” The sound of your title from his lips nearly makes you shudder in disgust. It’s wrong, it sounds wrong being said in such a way. “I’d love to bend you over and stare at that sweet ass all night-” 

It’s not until your hand is throbbing that you register what happened. The soldier stumbles back a step, hand moving to his face. Your hand is balled in a fist, knuckles throbbing from the punch you delivered to his face. The next few moments seem to move in slow motion, your body pushed backwards as a hulking form comes to stand in front of you. The scent of ozone is still burning hot in your nose, anger pulsing through your body. Your ears are ringing, your hands refusing to unball from the fists they’ve closed into. You’re breathing heavily, eyes training on a small speck of mud on the back of Ghost’s jacket. 

“-You even so much as look in her direction again, I’ll rip your intestines out, tie them to the back of a humvee and drag you all the way to London, understood?” The dangerous rumble is back at the edge of his voice, his own hands balled into fists. 

“Loud and clear, sir.” The soldier spits out, massaging his face from your punch. 

A rough hand closes around your arm, making you stumble as you’re half dragged towards the barracks. You’re breathing heavily, breaths coming in gasps as the flood of emotions through you grows to almost be too much. You’re led down the hall towards the rec room, Ghost pushing you inside. 

“Sit.” He snaps, pointing at the couch.

You scramble to sit where he pointed, your brain beginning to move in autopilot as you cradle your throbbing hand to your chest. It’s still curled in a fist, the adrenaline pumping through you preventing you from uncurling your fingers. You try to steady your breathing as Ghost digs around in the fridge for a moment. You flinch as the door slams closed, Ghost dropping an ice pack on the coffee table before he takes a seat next to you on the couch. 

He grabs your hand, pulling it towards him rather roughly. He forces your fingers to uncurl, his own rough fingers digging into your hand, poking and prodding. He moves your fingers, bending your wrist and moving your arm. “It’s not broken.” He says, grabbing the ice pack and slapping it across your knuckles. “Luckily.” 

You’re still trembling, your hand lifting subconsciously to hold the ice pack in place. You feel dazed, not unlike you had earlier when you’d been pulled from sleep, only this time you can feel the emotions still pulsing through you. The remnants of anger, the disgust, the fear both from attacking an alpha, and the reprimanding you’re sure you’re due for doing such a thing.

“I shouldn’t have done that.” You murmur, feeling far away, outside of your  body looking in. 

“Probably not.” Ghost says. 

You turn slightly to look at him, pupils dilated as you simultaneously appear to see him and look straight through him. “Price is gonna find out.”

Ghost nods again, the burn of ozone gone from his scent. “He’ll believe you, though. Anything you tell him, he’s going to believe you over what anyone else says.” 

You stare at him, the skull mask from earlier gone, leaving him just in his balaclava. His eyelashes are blonde, you think as you take him in, trying to ground yourself. His skin looks soft, but that could just be the omega screaming at you. You expect him to get up, to leave you alone until you find the will to move, or one of the others finds you. Yet, he stays where he is, eyes focused across the room as you sit there. 

“You’re a purebred alpha.” You say, breaking the silence with the thought that had come to mind earlier. You need to keep talking, to keep your mind steady while you relax. 

“How did you figure it out?” He asks, not denying it. 

“Your scent.” You say, recalling earlier in the mess, the way his scent had permeated your entire body. You hadn’t just sensed it, you had felt it. His emotions, his anger, the hint of desperation for the Corporal to make the smart decision and walk away. “It’s different from other alphas. Price smells good and I’d like to roll around in his scent, but yours hits some deep primal part of my brain.” You say, turning slowly to face him. “Makes sense you’d end up in a position like this. You’re supposed to be like, an apex human.” You laugh quietly. “Just a couple of purebreds. What are the odds?” 

“Very high.” He answers. 

You laugh again. “Yeah, I know. Both of my parents were purebreds, and my grandparents. Both of them came from a long line of purebreds.” Your brows pinch into a frown. “I didn’t see it in your file, though.” 

“I don’t want it to be.” He explains. 

“Makes sense.” You say. “If I’d had that choice I’d have it left out too. As soon as someone sees it, that’s how they measure your worth. It’s not about you anymore, it’s your status they want.” You lift the ice, moving your fingers. Your hand is sore, your knuckles starting to swell a bit. 

“It’ll bruise.” He says, staring down at your hand. 

“‘Spose it could have been worse.” You say, grimacing at the ache pulsing all the way to your shoulder.

“Yeah,” He scoffs. “You could have broken your arm with a punch like that.” 

“‘S not my fault the CIA didn’t teach me much.” You murmur. “They mostly made me run.” You remember the hours and hours you spend running circles around the gym. So many circles, over and over again. 

Get involved in their hobbies. Your brain flicks through that section of the book, an idea beginning to form in your head. You’d considered it a few days ago, when you first read that chapter. Ghost speaks in violence and warfare, fighting and defending. How do you bond with the apex of humankind? 

“Teach me to fight.” 

His eyes shift slowly until he’s looking at you. You wish you could see the rest of his face, read his expression. His eyes don't give you much to go off of, something he'd likely perfected over the years. 

“Or, at least defend myself.” You continue, fighting the urge to shrink back under his gaze. “I know, Price already told me to run first, but what if that's not an option? Am I gonna throw a shitty punch and hope it works? Aim between the legs and hope I'm faster than they can block? I promise I won't go around trying to fight asshole alphas.”

He continues to stare at you, his eyes locked on yours. Your heart thuds in your chest, your stomach twisting nervously but there's no challenge in his gaze, not even a playful one like you'd initiated with Price. He's simply staring. 

You wonder what he's looking for, what he's thinking. Will he laugh at you for asking? Tell you to ask someone else? Get Price to do it since he’s actually your alpha? 

“Fine.” He grunts, breaking eye contact first as he pushes himself to stand. “We start Monday. Early.” 

A small smile tugs at your lips as you watch him leave the rec room. You may have just found your way into Ghost’s heart, or at least a way to get him to tolerate your presence. 

Monday. Early. 

You’ll be ready. 

Taglist Part 1:

@bobaprint, @ashy-kit @anunintentionalwriter @mockerycrow @hayleybarnesx @protokosmonaut @fruitymoonbeams-blog @blue-blue0 @hindi-si-ikay @hanellokey @thatonepupkai @redwites @kattiieee @141trash @ghostlythots @lothiriel9 @dillybuggg @beebeechaos @konigsmissedbeltloop @kaoyamamegami @thychuvaluswife @idkkkkkkk8363 @wallwriterstuff @bisky-business @smile-child-13 @anomiatartle @dangerkittenclaws @bless-my-demons @mystic60 @evolutionarry @red-hydra @lunaetiicsaystuff @cadotoast @linaangel @rancid-wasp @codsunshine @thriving-n-jiving @slayerx147 @ferns-fics @spicyspicyliving @cityoffallencrows @puppyel @ttsbaby01 @heeheehoohoohahahihi @sleepyoriana @ihatethinkingofnames10

[shmalk]

141 is filled with alphas, not a single omega in sight. there are a few betas, but they're either low-ranking or transfers that were never going to last.

like you! (beta!reader) who works at reception and takes calls, scans badges and is the first point of contact for the task force.

none of them know your name, none of them even speak to you - maybe price, when you transfer a call to him, he'll mumble a thank you. or even laswell, when you bring her a coffee.

it's nothing, really, you don't mind.

only, one day, a totally normal friday, you've done the exact same style in your hair you always have, and you're wearing more clothes than you were yesterday.

price wants a coffee, sure- you make it, just the way he likes, and head towards his office. you knock, and wait a few seconds until you hear 'come in.'

the office is silent, it usually is - but this time there's more than just price inside.

they're finishing up just as you enter, soap and gaz sitting in front of the desk whilst ghost leant against the back wall.

"my apologies, captain." your voice isn't exactly quiet - why should it be, you've done nothing wrong, but its still respectful. price just nods as you place the cup down on his desk.

"thanks, that's all." he dismisses everyone in the room, and you wait for the boys to file out before you do, soap and gaz both giving you a cheeky smile.

ghost is the one to hold open the door, standing just adjacent to the doorway with his arm sprawled against it. its a heavy door, and you swallow as you pass him.

"thank you," you all but mumble out as you rush past him - straight into the break room.

you can't help but rant about the situation to your roommate whilst you're packing up your things, your phone tucked between your jaw and shoulder.

"i mean- he held the door open for me and i couldn't even look him in the eye to say thank you!" you stress, throwing your bag into your passenger seat before leaning back against your car. "god, all i wan't right now is a plate of sushi and some boba."

"too bad its pizza night, dweeb."

"thats not fair! i could loose my job, i should be allowed to eat my comfort food when im stressed out."

you stress about it over the whole weekend, and when you return back to work on monday you try to act as casual as possible. of course, you don't see ghost - price doesn't order a coffee, and youre break time comes around quicker than you expected.

you had brought- oh, theres- your favourite sushi, and a boba drink sitting where your food was supposed to be. in somewhat messy hand writing, on a small piece of paper, theres your name.

signed ' s. riley. '

i am a sucker for sweet lil moments like this !!

in my head i think that simon would like a beta, or an alpha, but in this lil snippet (which is CERTAINLY getting turned into a fic) he's big and broad and gets worried when he's with alphas because they can't think straight, he tells them what to do and he does it.

but you? you dont react to his scent or chase him down to get him to court you - so, of fource, he courts you. <3

[tinkerbullisreal]

happy late 413 :)

[katakaluptastrophy]

Continuing to think about the horror of what happens to John, and the horrors of love...

When Alecto has first been created, she says to him "I picked you to change, and this is how you repay me?" and "What have you done to me?"

They're heartbreaking questions she has every right to ask, but there's something awful and ironic about them too. Because John also might have asked "what have you done to me?"

It's easy to get distracted by the cartoonish awfulness of John's own narration: "talk about police abuse", "come on, love. Guys as careful as me don't have accidents," "love a working tram system." But all of these comments come after moments where John has unwittingly come into proximity with violent death, an experience he repeatedly likens to having drugs forcibly injected into him; an omniscient, dream-like, out of body experience that seems to propel him forward through his basest impulses. The first time this happens, he's brought back from "the verge of something insane" by being shaken violently by P-. Lines like these aren't revealing John's diabolical plotting. They're a man who would rather own atrocities as premeditated than admit that he was losing his grip.

The second is when he encounters the soul of the earth. His human mind makes contact with the incoherent, furious soul of a planet. In any other context, this would be straightforwardly Lovecraftian. And everything he describes after that is full of elipses, jumbled, and detached. His friends are shot by gun-toting cultists and he says it was like a dream.

Hearing the earth screaming, feeling his friends' deaths under his skin like a drug, he might well have asked "what have you done to me?"

Alecto said to him, "I picked you to change, and this is how you repay me?" But as everything collapses, John says:

"I thought you were going to take me, somehow. Purge me. Use me as an instrument. But you didn't say anything...I was babbling, Show me. Come on. I'm ready. You kept screaming and screaming..."

John has spent months becoming something terrifying, an entity with yellow eyes and uncanny powers. He's discovered that death has an overwhelming impact on him that he cannot fully control. Everyone was relying on him to do something. And he did so many things: well-meaning things and stupid things and things that were lashing out in rage and frustration. Hundreds of people have died because of him. His friends have died because of him. Surely, surely there was a point to this. Surely there was meaning. Surely whatever did this to him, made him into this, had a greater plan.

But there is no plan. There is no great revelation. He tries to hurt the earth, to provoke some kind of answer, but the screaming continues. And when P dies, the person who snapped him out of it the last time, John lets go and the whole world dies.

John is kneeling on the grass vomiting up dirt and tearing out his own ribs, saying "there was still too much of me that was just a human being...", trying to swallow the soul of the earth. And by the end, the one shred he has to hold onto is a memory of playing with a doll as a child. That, and his anger...

The earth tried to reach out in the only way it could, amidst its incoherent suffering. And John tried to use the abilities it gave him, but he was only human. Fallible and proud and angry.

She said, "I still love you." And the horror; the horror of love, the horror of this story, is that to begin with they did this to each other.

To be clear: I don't mean to diminish the awfulness or the very specific forms that John's violence against Alecto takes, and continues to take across the story. I don't mean to excuse his own self-mythologisation. I certainly don't think he's blameless for the decisions he made and the agenda he pursued. But if there's one thing that happens over and over again in TLT, it's that the horror of love is not a one-way street.

And I wonder, in light of what we now know about the permeability of the soul, quite where John ends and Alecto begins. And when that blurring began...

[panmostuck]

some homestuck sketches at varying levels of messiness. horseleather ranger design is originally by aoalmostdaily on twitter!