Omega’s are moved at the age of thirteen to private sequestered schools for their protection. School life continues as they would if they were normal, regular classes chosen by the students, but their interests are noted and are fed into an elite matchmaking system. After Graduating they start the process of meeting potential mates while on suppressants. Q’s at his 10th meeting at Uni. and is starting to lose hope when he meets 007.
I adore this prompt and have always wanted to write an omegaverse, so thank you!
Q’s fingers were sweating awkwardly as he grasped his mug, steam rising upward in greyish puffs and still too hot to consume. He blew on the top absently, eyes scanning the room. The coffeehouse was small and cozy, students scattered about on well-used couches chatting quietly on intellectual topics. Q had never been one to frequent this type of place; shy and reserved, the world of socialization had never appealed to him. He preferred the solitude of his single dorm room, and the anonymity of internet chatrooms where he could meet like-minded individuals and not worry about any judgment on his omega status, gangly limbs or the occasional spot. It was only from considerable prodding by his mother and his sole friend and lab partner Evelyn, that he was even out in the first place.
Q didn’t even know who he was looking for. All he had was a head-shot and the username ‘007’ to go by. He sipped at his tea, the hot liquid just shy of scalding, trying to decide if he should make a run for it before the next potential mate showed up. Though really, it couldn’t be worse than the last time. The last several times, in fact. There had been the creep who sat way too close, the one who was dumb as rocks, the one who giggled like an idiot, and lastly the one who put his hand on Q’s knee and just wouldn’t listen to the word ‘no.’ Q was lucky he had brushed up on his self-defense recently; all omegas were required to do so, but being thin and wiry made him even more cautious. The matchmaking system was truly abysmal, and Q had already written one carefully worded letter to the administration detailing every single failed attempt that he had been forced to endure.
A burly man in a sweater vest slid by the table, a sly smile on his face as he brushed unnecessarily close to Q’s sleeve. Q pursed his lips and took another sip, scowling down into the beverage. Fucking alphas. Think they own everyone. The man didn’t pause and Q breathed a slight sigh of relief.
Glancing down at his watch, Q began to wonder if he was actually being stood up. He didn’t know if that was in fact worse than meeting with someone he knew he was going to hate, but the truth was that he did want to meet someone. He was lonely. Very very lonely. And somewhere in his little suppressed omega heart he felt that deep longing of just having someone to love and someone who loved you unconditionally. Someone to hold at night and cling to in scary movies and share dessert with. Someone who kissed you fiercely and defended and protected you with just as much fire. The ache in his heart edged forward, through Q’s carefully constructed layers of self-preservation. And there it was, his heart laid there on the table in front of him, beating out pitifully as the seconds on his watch ticked by.
Q sighed forlornly and reached behind him to gather his parka, resigned to his fate of dying alone and the embarrassment of being stood up. As he pushed back his chair to gather up his satchel and fiddle with his gloves, he looked up to suddenly see a man standing behind the chair opposite of him. He was taller, thicker, muscles sleek underneath a dark tshirt, definitely reeking of alpha male. And his eyes. His eyes were a beautiful blue, crystal clear and warm, inquisitive and smiling with a slight crinkle near the corners. The golden hair was short and fine, shaved squarely at the sideburns and accentuating prominent ears that gave the man a strong, powerful and infinitely attractive look. Q gulped, hope stirring up from the places where his heart was leaking open.
“Double oh seven?” he asked tentatively, setting the satchel down and feeling his heart rate accelerating exponentially.
“Q,” the man replied. It was a statement, not a question. His voice was so sweet, so strong, so alluring that Q suddenly felt a wave of both calm and excitement flow through his blood. And he knew. In that moment, he knew beyond a doubt. This was his alpha. Q bit back a smile, sipping from the mug shyly, and scooching his chair back in to fit below the table.
“Hi,” Q said, losing the battle with the smile.
“Hi,” the alpha answered, claiming the other chair. They grinned at each other stupidly for a long moment before they remembered how to talk once more.
