#alpha!simon

it's scares you, the tang of menacity you pick up on, the way his lips pull up in a snarl, and when he growls, gravelly and loud, you let out an uncontrollable, instinctive whimper, shrinking in the bow of your body, trying to curl, hide, shield yourself with a sharp distress to your pleasantly sweet scent, whirling around your shivering form in waves that reach out to simon, distracting, forcing the haze of an possessing anger dissipate, leaving behind a pang of a quilt.

simon would apologize to you in private, properly, where he'd be able to persuade you to let him show how sorry he is for making you so uncomfortable, with your quivering legs spread wide, dangling at his broad, stretched out shoulders, and his drooling mouth devouring your sweet cunt, pulsing and soppy all over his twisting tongue, the pitch high keen of your voice a delight to his ears, and maybe, just maybe, you'll let him stick in with a tip, perhaps.

he just wants to make sure you'll be safe if he's suddenly wouldn't be any near you, and he was acting so good all the time, even with his gums aching to bite into the tender flesh of your neck, lick over your scent gland, make it swell, and when he does makes you gush in his mouth, swallowing gulps of your slick until dry, limbs boneless, toes spasming in a curl, you don't fight off the feel of his crooked nose digging in the curve of your sweaty neck.

your glassy eyes flutter shut, nails clawing up from simon's shoulders to his cropped hair, sharp, unsure, trying to pull him away and as close as possible, listening to the gravelly, almost purring coo of his voice, soothing your tangled, wracked nerves, and you let him, garbling, mewling, until his sharp canines pierce deep in, chapped, tissued lips suck down to soothe the sting that makes you sob, spine arching painfully, until your body sags completely, useless.

he'd wait for a next, better time to warm you up to try and take his knot, there's no pleasure in forcing you, rushing things, for now, his inner alpha is sated enough, seeing those imprinted dents of his teeth bruising over your neck like a brand, your body cradled close, deep asleep and letting out unguarded, barely audible purrs, humming something illegible as his palm cups over your gland, face nuzzling in the crown of your head, and yes, it's more than enough.

The warm smile you pointed down at him, which he met with his own love-laced gaze, got interrupted by the jarring noise of the table scraping against the floor. Glancing up, you saw Simon had decided to move the entire—extremely heavy—table to divert the attention to him instead of each other. Typical.

Simon spoke, voice low and menacing as he returned the towel to Kyle once his mess had been cleared.

“I don’t like my pack visiting you. I won’t stand for your broken scent mucking up my nest.” His dark eyes bored into yours. You returned the glare with the same fervor. “I don’t like you.”

“Oh, good,” you rolled your eyes, “The feeling is mutual, ya big bastard.”

Kyle coughed to cover the bark of a laugh. John’s eye started to twitch in your peripherals. Before anyone could suck in a breath to fire another round, a pounding knock came from the front door. The men reacted like the unfamiliar sound came from an enemy. Johnny pointed at you with a stern look that said ‘stay here, don’t move’ and then nodded to John before heading to the front door. Simon and Kyle slid open the back door and slipped onto the back porch. They likely split up. John skirted the couch and peered out the front window without adjusting any of the curtains yet to be opened for the morning.

“Delivery,” John said the word quietly.

It reached Johnny by the nod of his head. He unlocked the door and opened it with one foot wedged tight behind it.

“Got an overnight delivery for this address. Can you sign here?” The woman who stood at the door stood with the casual annoyance of someone who dealt with the public for a job. She held a tablet out toward Johnny, a medium-sized box resting at her feet.

“Course. How was your drive up?” He chatted with her with a warm smile. You glanced at John, who hadn’t moved from his post by the window. He had a phone in one hand, thumb flying over the keys. You slurped the tea in your mug.

“Muddy. I’m not looking forward to my drive back down.” She took the tablet back from Johnny and handed him the box.

“If you can keep to the dryer patches, you should avoid getting bogged on the way down.” Johnny offered it with a smile in his voice. He shifted the box under one arm, “If you get stuck, you can call the local towing company; we have them on speed dial after an extraordinarily wet spring last year.”

“Thanks, I have their number saved in my phone already. It’s good to know they can save me from up here, too.” She waved at Johnny as she started for the stairs, “Have a good day.”

John remained at his perch, minute shifts of his head tracking the delivery van until it became obscured by trees. Johnny shut and locked the front door. You had never understood why they did that when there was no one within a reasonable distance. Jumpy fuckers. Kyle and Simon returned from their outside observations as John and Johnny converged at the kitchen table. Their whispered voices were too quiet and full of unfamiliar words as they were joined by the other two. The box sat, edges neatly lined up with the table.

You were the only one who flinched when John’s phone rang.

He answered it with a gruff ‘Price.’ You hadn’t realized any of them were tense until their muscles relaxed in reaction to John’s.

“Kate,” he chuckled, running a hand through his hair. “The next time you are sending us a box, especially one with a battery label, a touch of warning would be appreciated. Nearly took out a civilian who dropped off a box that smelled faintly of machine oil. We were going to start bomb procedures if you hadn’t gotten back to me in the next two minutes.”

Bomb procedures? How often were these four near bombs to have a plan for them? Smoothing the questions from your face, you knew the timing had worked as Simon’s glare found no purchase in your expression. His hate had a refreshing flavor as compared to Sarah’s saccharine lies. You hoped she was dead. Maybe you’d meet her on your walk through death. Your eyes remained locked with Simon’s as your mind wandered away from the control panel, the imaginings of the beyond tinkling in your ears.

You did not return to the moment until you heard John refer to you.

“—Wife will go with Simon. You two need to work out how to keep everyone’s vital organs in their bodies.”

Before either of you could protest, Simon, because of his bullheaded nature, and you, because you don’t know what the hell you were just volunteered for, John cut a glare across the two of you.

“Simon is the most capable of keeping our wife safe while placing all the sensors Kate has sent our way.”

Kyle took a single look at your face as this news settled. His lips quirked. He laughed so hard he had to walk out of the dining space and around the wood stove. The jerk at least made a pit stop to press a kiss to your cheek, still chortling. You poured out your tea, too annoyed to deal with its tepid nature. The mug went in gently, clinking against the basin. It gave you an excuse to not pout at Kyle’s laughter.

“Chin up, dearest. You won’t be the first person Simon has delivered to safety who he detests.” Kyle rested a hot palm on your thigh. The weight of his palm eased the fear teasing at your heart. You didn’t believe Simon couldn’t keep you safe, bit more of a hunch that he wouldn’t purposefully hurt you.

“Not helpful, Kyle.” Your brows fought the muscles between them to touch. It was too damn early in the morning to have a hate-induced headache.

“You’ll be fine. We will only be a shout away.” Kyle tipped his head atop yours, torso nestled between your knees, as John laid out the plans you still did not understand. The small hum he let out when your fingers dug under the edge of his shirt warmed your heart. Digging into the muscles at the base of his spine, you found them stiff and knotted with all the tension he held from his position as an alpha and likely from his job. A low rumble started deep in your throat. Kyle melted.

This must have been the other half of what your grandfather had told you about, soothing alphas. Simon would be a no-go for easing his worries. That left the last task for you to complete before death pulled you beneath the dirt would be loving John. You could hold on for that.

Loving John would have to wait until you no longer wanted to smother him with a pillow. The conversation you had paid no real attention to had landed you here—here being deeper into the woods with the alpha, who would happily shove you into a badger hole if it meant getting his pack back into the neat boxes he expected them to sit in. The two of you were meant to place a variety of sensors at specific points to create a more secure barrier against whoever had started to take out the rescued betas.

You were dying either way. At least a bullet between the eyes would be mostly painless. You snickered at your own morbid thoughts as you forced your weary body over another felled tree. The idea of falling back into Scorpio’s—and more particularly Sarah’s—hands did leave you with a queasy sense of dread.

Simon’s huff of annoyance at your inability to move at the pace of a soldier in peak physical performance struck a chord.

Fuck him.

Something had broken through the forests of fear in your head when you woke this morning. You didn’t want to live in the dark anymore. Time slipped by faster as it neared the end, and if you were going down, you wanted to leave claw marks on every wall as proof that you existed once and deserved to be remembered. Let Simon be your first mark.

The taste of Johnny still lingered in your molars. It made you bold.

“Do you hate all new people in your life, or am I special?”

Without looking back, you can’t decide if the ominous creaking you hear is Simon’s molars or a branch that suffered under his anger.

“I don’t hate you.” He ground the words out like playing millstone was his job.

Now that startled a laugh out of you. Not a tinkling little thing, no, the laugh that erupted out of you went on and on. You leaned against a tree, eyes filling with tears from how hard your ribs squeezed. Doesn’t hate you? Yeah, and the moon is purple.

Simon placed a sensor while you dissolved into mirth. When you could breathe again, tears wiped from your cheeks, and only a small hitch in your breathing, you looked up at him from where you leaned on the tree that supported you.

“Right. You don’t hate me. Sure. Do you lie that effectively when you’re doing whatever secret jobs you do for Kate?”

Whatever feelings he had been masking before were fully on display now. Every muscle you could see tightened against his bones. He stomped up to you on silent feet. Each step that should have thundered and instead landed silently ratcheted your laughter to the operating table, leaving you squirming as the taste of copper flooded your tongue.

“Interlopers will find no warmth in my nest.”

He turned, those long legs creating distance you would have to run to overcome. Running would trigger a coughing fit. You refused to prove weakness in the form of blood in your teeth to Simon. He might not want to hurt you like Scorpio did, but he wouldn’t help you either.

So, you trudged. His back became the mountain you aimed for. Twenty minutes into following him, the cawing of your crows started. You called to them as you always did with a quick ‘hello, hello’. They flew ahead and circled back, familiar with your pace. Your crows called to you, their harsh cries grounding in ways nothing else you had ever found. Footsteps slowed. Something felt off in your bones.

Looking down at your hands, you slowly curled the fingers of one hand and then the other. They didn’t close down to fists; the skin of your fingertips were tight against the swelling. A questioning caw at your feet surprised you into a cough. Bones shouldn’t ache. Yours did, though. Your ribs and fascia fighting to keep you from shattering under the strength of your incoming demise.

Sipping air between your teeth like Kyle’s fancy drinks, you turned toward home. Nearly twenty crows, a murder now, fluttered near your feet and above you in the branches as you moved; they were your favorite part of living. If you passed out, doing so closer to home would make you easier to find. Stars only knew if Simon would report where you lay after he stepped over your limp body.

He didn’t know you well enough to truly hate you. That thought tied itself neatly around your scapulae, pulling them tight. Were you the problem? Or were you the mirror he couldn’t stand to face? Why could these structural thoughts never arrive with a clear mind and a hand to hold?

Crows scattered with warning caws and a light dusting of disturbed earth. Simon must have finished placing all the sensors. He followed behind you, silent as an owl. Your murder drifted from branch to branch, sentries to your slow trudge homeward. Stopping, a hand pressed firmly into some bark, you took a moment to breathe…and run the detonation cord between you and Simon. If you were going to die, you wanted to force him to confront himself and not lay his fears at your feet. You had enough of those all on your own.

“I don’t think you hate me, Simon.”

He grunted a reply. You continued.

“I think you envy me.” Cut off with a cough, you stared at the specks of blood along your forearm as you continued. “I think you’re scared of me. Not because I could win in a fight, but because your pack is calmer and happier than you’ve seen them in a long, long while. Everything you can do for them wasn’t enough to make Johnny laugh, or John smile, or Kyle sit still.”

Fault lines give warning rumbles before they break. You ignored the ones from behind you and started walking again. When his voice came, the quiet volume surprised you; the hate being spewed did not.

“I don’t envy you for anything. You’re nothing more than a beta that’s broken beyond bearing. You won’t replace me—”

“I can’t replace you, Simon,” you snarled at him, feet nearly slipping in the dirt as you fought your way up the small hill. The silence that followed lifted every hair on your body and whispered to your soul that the trees listened and judged.

He chuffed from behind you, clearly bent on arguing the point. Spinning once you topped the rise, you stared down at him.

“They don’t-”

You cut him off with a yell—a match to the wick that would disturb the careful balance of the nitroglycerin. Boom.

“I am dying! I can’t replace you because I will be lucky to see five full years away from Scorpio! And that’s only if you all are actually able to keep me safe.”

Holding his eyes as this information sank in, you chose not to let the flash of relief that crossed his face take root in your soul.

The snap of a twig had both of you searching out the source of the sound. Johnny stood there, staring at you.

“What?”

That softly spoken word sucked at you—passing too close to the sun, and now you were hurtling toward a fiery death.

“Johnny, I didn’t mean for you to hear that,” you held both hands low and wide fingers to the sky as if approaching a cornered animal.

“Johnny,” Simon started, cautiously.

He appeared before you in a flash, throwing you over his shoulder as he ignored Simon’s calls. Running the entire way to the house, Johnny didn’t pause to remove his—or your—shoes before he hurtled up the stairs. You weren’t welcome upstairs.

“No, Johnny. Simon doesn’t want-”

“Fuck what Simon wants, I need you here,” he dumped you on the edge of the massive nest atop the largest mattress you have ever seen. “Do the others know?”

He pulled your boots off roughly, throwing them before ripping off his own. He climbed into the nest, pulling you to the center and ripping a blanket from the constructed wall. Johnny rested his head on your stomach as he covered both of you in darkness that exuded his scent.

“No. Only Kate. It was my condition to coming here, that she couldn’t tell you.”

“Would you have ever told us or died alone and left us to find you rotting in your bed?” The words were harsh. What came after your breaths stopped hadn’t occurred to you. There was no good answer to his question.

You could do nothing but hold him as he wept into you. Curling down around him, you held him as best you could. Johnny’s tears were permission to weep for yourself, to mourn the loss of your men. You would miss them, all of them. While it might have been easier to never know them, you can’t regret learning to love them. And you do love them, even Simon, who would rather you died today than a few years from now.

Sleep stole you away from there, comforted and safe, invited into something you had never known before.

Broken Masterlist | Masterlist | Taglist

Gaz’s words echo in your ears as the large man crosses the room on silent feet.

‘He’s afraid…’

It’s hard to believe someone so massive and menacing could ever be afraid. Especially because of you.

Your silence doesn’t bother Simon. He’s honestly a little surprised that you haven’t gotten up and left yet. 

He takes it as a win and continues on his way toward you, determined to say what he came here to say and leave right after. 

As he gets closer, he waits for your scent to hit him. 

He waits until he’s only a few feet away, and still doesn’t get a single hint of the scent that’s been itching at his brain for weeks upon weeks upon weeks. 

You look different.

He wonders briefly if the suppressants are to blame for that, too, but when your eyes meet his, he knows that’s not what it is. 

You’ve changed. At your root, your core. You’re different from the Omega he trained with all that time ago. 

“He’s doing good work with you. Your stance is stronger,” he tries again. 

“Is your rut due?” Your question visibly catches him off guard and you can’t help the little spark of satisfaction you feel. 

Is this power? 

Certainly not. Can’t be. 

An Omega like you having any semblance of power over an Alpha like him? 

“No, why would-”

“You haven’t said a word to me,” you interrupt, rising to your feet. 

“You’ve barely looked at me, and you leave the room every time I enter. What reason could you possibly have to come seek me out if it isn’t your rut?”

He lets out a heavy sigh and drops his eyes for a moment. 

There it is. 

“I know. And I know you’re angry and-”

You let out a tired, breathy laugh that tastes a little bitter around the edges. “You seem to know a lot of things, Simon.”

Hearing his name on your tongue lands like a blow to the chest, and he needs a moment to recover before speaking again. 

“I thought space would help,” he finally tries. “I don’t know if you remember what happened last time you saw me, but you didn’t exactly make it seem like you wanted an apology.”

“I don’t.” You don’t specify if you mean you don’t remember or don’t want an apology, but he seems to understand that those two words apply to both. 

“I figured. But you’re getting one anyway.”

As he takes a step toward you, he watches for any trace of the feral Omega he met in the woods. The one who refused to let him come near. 

“I’m sorry. I said what I said and I can’t take it back, but I can try to make things better. I can start showing up... Being there for you the way you need me to. If you’ll let me.”

You press your lips together to stop the bottom one from trembling. 

He sounds so genuine, so real. So different from the man who called you a waste of Oxygen. 

You wonder how much his conversation with Laswell has changed his perspective. 

The reminder of the overheard conversation makes your stomach churn. 

The fact that he knows so many dirty intimate details of your wretched life and your constructed childhood, yet you know next to nothing about him besides his prejudice against Omegas. 

“Why now?” You finally ask, throat tight as you try your hardest to maintain your composure. 

Gaz’s words of encouragement ring in your ears. 

This is your life. You get to decide what you do. 

Simon shrugs and looks away, eyes scanning the room as if he’s looking for an intruder, a threat, a danger to his Omega. But he just can’t look at you. Not when you’re staring at him with those intense eyes and all those feelings. 

There’s so much he wants to do, wants to say, but he knows he can’t. Not now, not when you’re still so fragile. Not when your scent, your biology, is being regulated by Military-Grade suppressants. 

“I’ve been watching you,” he finally says, eyes still roving over every inch of the room. 

Everywhere but that space you occupy. 

“Watched you with Gaz, watched you by yourself. I can see it in you… that spark. It’s not gone yet, and I wanna help bring you back to life.” 

Of all the things you thought he’d say, that was nowhere on the list.

“You’re not just a toy for me to abuse during my rut.” His words are final and unflinching, and as he says them he brings his eyes back to you. 

You hold his gaze with dry, thoughtful eyes.

“Whatever they told you before… it doesn’t matter. That’s not who you are, not anymore.”

Another silence rests between the two of you but it’s far less tense, less awkward. 

This silence is almost welcome. An unspoken olive branch extended and left to hang there until you decide to take it or swat it away. 

Your fingers reach out, accepting his peace offering, and then his fingers find yours.

His palm slides across yours, long boney fingers wrapping around your hand until he has enough of a grip to help you to your feet. 

Your eyes stay locked on his the entire time until you’re on your feet. Only then, once your hands are no longer connected, do you drop your gaze as well. 

“I’ll let you get back to it.” He starts heading toward the door, pausing once to shoot a soft glance over his shoulder. 

“You ever get tired of Gaz you let me know. I won’t be far.”

‘I won’t be far.’ 

A promise. A hefty one, at that. 

Without giving you an opportunity to respond, he leaves the room.

Once the door clicks closed behind him, he lets out a heavy sigh and his shoulders loosen a bit. 

That went… a lot better than he thought it would.

He doesn’t get to celebrate his little victory for too long, of course.

The flickering shadow of an all-black uniform glides through his peripheral vision, vanishing a split-second after his eyes land on it fully. 

Odd.

Instead of going the way he normally would, he takes a left toward the shadow. 

Something in his gut twists, tightening when he finds no trace of them. 

Not even a scent to follow. 

~*~

Price leans forward, brows heavy as Simon captures his full attention. 

“You’re sure?” He asks, voice gruff and low. 

Simon nods once. 

“Wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t.”

Price works his jaw a few times, mulling over the situation before leaning back in his chair once again. 

“Run through it one more time.”

“At the west end of the Gym hallway. They were scentless, wore an all-black uniform. I couldn’t tell if they were armed. They disappeared within seconds.”

Laswell pinches the bridge of her nose and squeezes her eyes shut. 

“Theta-6. They must be checking on her.”

Price’s mouth tightens into a hard line as a wave of anger sours the air. 

“They’re not permitted to have field assets active on my base, much less without my knowledge.”

“John, let’s be frank. The only reason Simon saw the agent is because this has already escalated,” Laswell says, her voice bordering on exhaustion. 

“They’re here to observe without being seen, they have been the whole time, haven’t they?” Simon realizes, far slower than he’d like to admit. “See if she’s meeting expectations.”

“Which she obviously isn’t,” Laswell adds without missing a beat. “Not to them. They built her to be obedient, desirable, disposable. Training with Gaz? Running from her assignment? Her Alpha? None of that is acceptable.”

“She’s a person,” Simon growls, “not hardware. Not a pet or a toy.”

“Good luck trying to tell that to the funding board.”

A heavy silence settles over the office as the reality of her words set in.

There’s a reason Theta-6 has been able to do the things they do. Why they get away with the cruelty that goes on behind those closed doors. 

Because they produce attractive results… 

Most of the time. 

“We’ll keep her close,” Price orders, bringing the room back to attention. “No more wandering alone. I want eyes on her. Always. If Theta-6 is getting bolder, that means they’re not just looking. They’re deciding.”

~*~

The water raining down on you is a couple degrees past ‘too hot’, but you stand beneath it anyway.

The stinging pain does wonders to help ground you as it runs over old bruises and healing scars. 

Beyond the hot water scalding your skin, you can still feel the ghost of Simon’s touch on your hand. The feeling of him, so warm and steady and sure. So purely Simon. 

You wonder what it’s like to be so rooted in who you are. To be so sure of yourself. 

But hey, at least now you’re trying, right? 

Something still doesn’t feel right. 

A deep feeling of unease that gnaws on the walls of your stomach like a caged animal desperate to escape. 

No matter what you try or who you’re with, you can’t seem to shake the prickle in the back of your neck. The deep gut instinct that something is watching you. 

Which makes no logical sense, you try to reason. 

Nothing gets inside these walls without permission. Without clearance. 

Shaking the silly thoughts from your head, you turn the water off and step out of the shower, freezing when you notice movement in your peripherals. 

Right as you turn to look, the soap clinging precariously to your lashes decides to acquaint itself with your eyes. 

You blink furiously, scrubbing at your eyes with the back of your hand until you can kind of see and then-

You’re alone. 

Of course you’re alone. This is a military base, for God’s sake. 

You check the bathroom door once for good measure, heart hammering just a tiny bit less when you confirm it’s still locked. 

Bracing both hands on the counter, you take slow, careful breaths as your composure flops around on the floor like a dead fish. 

It’s your suppressants, you try to reason. It must be. There’s no other rational explanation for your newfound paranoia. 

Right?  

~*~

“Fuck!” Your back hits the mat with a thud hard enough to knock most of the air from your lungs. 

Gaz is quick to roll off of you and help you lean forward until you’re able to catch your breath. 

“What’s going on?” He asks quietly, one steady hand resting on your back. 

You shake your head and avoid his eyes. 

“Didn’t sleep great.”

Just because he can’t smell the lie doesn’t mean he won’t be able to see it. 

It’s not like it’s totally a lie, though. 

You haven’t been sleeping too well lately. It’s hard when every second your paranoia increases. When every sound makes you twitch and every movement makes your heart skip a beat. 

Sleeping hasn’t exactly been the easiest. 

“It’s more than just that,” he presses, coming to kneel in front of you. “I’m here if you need to talk about it. You know that.”

You do know that. And you’d be lying if you said you hadn’t thought about it.

But the last thing you want is to burden Gaz anymore with your issues. 

You just need to tough it out. Push through it for however much longer they’ll be in your system, and then everything will be back to normal. 

Or whatever new-normal is waiting. 

These are the thoughts that plague you as you continue training. 

These, accompanied with the ever-present feeling of being watched, have you missing a step and catching the corner of Gaz’s fist to your jaw. 

Though he’s not hitting nearly as hard as he would with anyone else, the force of it is still enough to knock you off balance and send you tumbling to the floor. 

“Okay, that’s enough for today.”

You shake your head furiously and rise to your feet. 

“No, we’re not done.”

“Yes. We are. You’re not gonna learn anything this way. And I don’t need to teach you how to take a beating.” He turns away from you and starts unwrapping his knuckles, ending the argument before you have a chance to start it. 

“I’ll take you to get something to eat. Or I can take you to rest, whatever you need. But this,” he motions to the gym around you, “isn’t what you need right now.”

A distraction is exactly what you need. But you can’t tell him that, because all it will lead to is a loving, motherly conversation about what it is you’re trying to distract yourself from. 

“I’ll be fine to walk on my own.”

He opens his mouth to protest but you’re already halfway across the gym toward the door. 

His expression is tight as he watches you walk, and he struggles with his own internal battle. 

Price’s orders were direct: Don’t let you out of his sight. 

But at the same time, the last thing he wants to do is make you feel trapped. 

So he lets you venture into the hallway alone, watches you as far as the windows allow, and then trusts a higher power to keep you safe when you disappear from view. 

Your footsteps echo in your ears as you march toward your room. 

You feel a little bit bad for not confiding in Gaz but it’s all so suffocating; all you want is time and space to breathe.

Gaz has earned your trust more than most, but even his loyalties are questionable. What happens if you confide in him and he tells Price? What if they tell Laswell?

Each step away from the Gym feels colder than the last, and that familiar eerie tickling starts to creep up your neck. 

Wrapping your arms around yourself, you pick up the pace. 

The last thing you want to do is spend another moment exposed to the ever-present gaze of whatever creature haunts your peripherals. 

And as you turn down another hallway, your steps falter and your heart drops into your stomach. 

There’s an open supply closet down the hall, and a figure standing in front of it. 

They’re tall, that’s the first thing you notice. 

The next thing you notice is the lack of standard uniform. There isn’t so much as a patch on the all-black uniform. 

They’ve got a datapad in their hands and their head is focused toward the closet, but you swear their eyes flicker to yours for the briefest of moments. 

It’s a fraction of a second but it’s more than enough for that eerie feeling to race down your spine. 

You continue marching, keeping your eyes forward as if nothing is amiss. As if you didn’t just hesitate. 

As if you are not painfully aware of how out of place the two of you are. And you’re sure they know it too. 

The figure doesn’t move as you pass by, doesn’t so much as nod your way, but the pit in your stomach grows the closer you get. 

There’s a type of familiarity in the blankness of their eyes, the emotionless expression on their face. 

You’ve seen it many many times before. 

You may not know the name of the Agent at the supply closet, but you don’t have to. 

You know who they are and what they’re here for. 

And when you glance back before rounding the corner, they’re gone. 

The closet is closed. 

And there isn’t a trace of them. 

Three years ago, you and Simon got married. It wasn’t anything flashy or big - fuck, how could it have been when you didn’t even love each other? But, military law forbade an unmated omega from joining the ranks, and Simon was seen as a wild-card alpha, too headstrong and violent, too hard to control. So, the brass laid out an ultimatum: mate, get married, or be discharged. Both you and Simon had worked too hard for too long to get where you were, so discharge was entirely off the table. There was no courting, no dates, and the wedding, if you could call it that, was little more than signing papers - three signatures on a thick piece of A4 government paper, one from you, one from Simon, and one from your witness, Captain John Price. You didn’t even exchange rings or vows. It took less than five minutes. 

After all was said and done, you and Simon went back to your lives. Of course, you were respectful to one another, and you spent one or two heats and ruts together, but you both maintained a distance away from each other. Neither of you were thrilled with the idea of being tied down, of being mated. The mating bond between you felt more like the neck of a too-tight sweater than it did a comfort, feeling each other’s emotions more of a chore than something you looked forward to. Sure, you worked well together, fluid and deadly like a well oiled M2 on the field. Always had. But there was a stark difference between working well together, and being mated.

So that’s how you ended up here. You had lost twenty pounds. Your skin was sallow and pale, your eyes sunken in. When you looked in the mirror, you could count your ribs, the knobs of your spine, even when they were hidden under the bruises that bloomed across your sickly skin.

You had thrown yourself into work, and when there was no work, you were challenging any living thing to go for a round with you on the sparring mat. But, you were weak; the bond sickness sapped all of your energy and strength faster than you could ever hope to replenish it. Your scent, which was once a warm and spicy caramelized vanilla, now smelled like sugar burnt to the bottom of a pot - acrid and rotted. You were dying, and you knew it. But your pride was far too great to ever go crawling back to Simon, the very man who caused the sickness to infiltrate every cell of your being. It had been months of this torture. Simon, your alpha, had all but abandoned you. You had been without his touch, his scent, anything and everything that the very base instincts of your omega craved from its mate for far too long. It didn't matter to your omega that this marriage, this mating bond was nothing more than a way to keep both you and Simon in the service. Instincts couldn't be fought with fact, and now you were reaping the consequences of the neglect of the bond. You had thought bond sickness was a myth, a fear-mongering tactic to keep alphas in line. However, you were now aware that there was far more truth than you could have ever imagined to that story that is told. 

You had seen the concerned looks of your team as they watched you haunt the halls of the base like a spectre. Soap had started to bring you chocolates and drinks, anything in hopes to get you to eat. Gaz took a different approach, always being the one to take you up on your sparring requests, the beta knowing that at the very least he could be gentle with you while still giving you an outlet. The Captain had made sure to keep you off any truly strenuous missions and tasks, mainly relegating you to the medbay or to training recruits. If you were any stronger, you would be pissed, but right now you took it as a blessing. At least he hadn’t kicked you off the team for your weakness. But Simon? Simon was nowhere to be found. He continuously was the first volunteer for the most dangerous missions, keeping him away from base for weeks to months at a time. When he came back bloody and bruised, he would avoid the medbay like the plague, only coming in to get fixed up by another combat medic when he knew Soap or Gaz had forcefully pulled you away. If you two happened to be walking in the same hallway, Simon would duck out of your sight without even so much as a word. You had long since given up on running after him. 

So color yourself surprised when you were standing in front of the mirror in your bathroom and the screen of your phone lit up, a text from Simon blaring on the too-bright screen. You had every intention of ignoring it, but your pride was no match for the dying ache of your omega. 

Come to my quarters.

The text was simple. Demanding, even. And all it did was make you angry. 

You quickly tugged on a pair of sweats and forced a tank top over your bruised and feverish skin. You thought briefly for a moment about tugging a sweatshirt on over your mottled skin, but, fuck it, let him see all that he has done to you. Maybe he would give you the one blessing you had hoped for over the last few months of neglect, and finally sever the bond between you. 

You trudged through the hallways of the base, every soldier you passed giving you a wide berth. You were certain you looked like death froze over, and the rage-filled expression set over your brows and your lips certainly did not help. When you reached his door, you didn’t even bother to knock. You just shoved your copy of the key in the door and slammed the door open. 

Simon barely even looked up from where he was lounging on the bed. His shirt was off, a rare sight, even for you, but even more shocking was the fact that he wasn’t wearing his mask.  He didn’t look much better than you - his once-bronzed skin paled, his own scars raised and reddened, and his musculature slightly less defined.

“You came.” He didn’t seem surprised, the rough timbre of his voice as unchanging as if he had remarked on the weather, which only increased the volatile rage that had flooded your system. His arms lazily opened in an invitation to lay with him. “No use just standin’ in the doorway.”

You, in all of your rage, just stood stockstill in the still-open doorway. Even as your omega side cried to jump into his arms and let his scent and his touch wash away all the pain, you refused with a defiant jut of your chin. You didn’t know why he had called you here, and the only thing your mind could conjure up is that Price, or Laswell, or fuck, even Soap, had sat him down and forced him to do this. And you wanted nothing to do with this or with him if he actually was not trying to change.

“I don’t want your pity. And I sure as hell don’t want your affection just because Price told you that you had to fix me,” you replied, your voice shaking with weakness and pain, even as you tried your damndest to keep it steady, strong. 

Simon growled lowly at the sound of your rage-filled pain, the sound of an alpha not used to having somebody fall immediately into line. His arms were still open, but you could see the way his muscles clenched, his own anger rising. “It ain’t about pity. It’s about basic biology,” he bit out, the words short and angry. 

That made you laugh, the sound short and sardonic before it morphs into a cough that shakes your entire, frail being. You brought a shaking hand up to wipe your lips before you fixed him with a glare hard enough to freeze an ocean. “Basic biology?" you mocked. “Yeah, for sure. But it’s also basic biology to not let bond sickness even be a worry for your omega, but looks like you fucked that one right up, didn’t you!?”

Your words made something in Simon snap. Your rage, the vitriol, clenched his hands into fists as he quickly swung his powerful legs over the edge of the bed, crossing the space between you in the space between one of your breaths and the next. He was in your face now, just enough space between you to not be pressing completely against you. You averted your gaze, knowing that if you didn’t, you might continue yelling at him, or worse. 

“Look at me,” he ordered, using the same tone he does on the battlefield. His hands are still clenched into fists, but they are shaking. Why?

That tone made your eyes harden, the instincts of a hard-bred soldier kicking in. Even through the fraying of your bond, your sickness, you knew that voice. You listened when given an order. You allowed your head to loll back to look up at him, but your expression was still set in that same hard glare. You weren’t on a battlefield. You were on base, far away from the acrid explosions and hot gunpowder. How dare he pretend otherwise? “Why?” you bit back in response. “This isn’t some tactical decision, Simon. Don’t treat me like one of your fuckin’ rookies.” 

He took a sharp breath through his teeth, obviously trying to control himself. He knew you were weak, the bond sickness taking so much more from you than it ever did him. But your defiance, your spirit despite the bond sickness was making his alpha go crazy. Even with you glaring up at him, he stared down at you with fierce eyes as his hands gripped your hips, shoving you out of the doorway and pressing you against the wall right beside it. Taking one hand off of your hip, he shut the door with a resounding click before his grip, and his attention came back entirely to you. “I ain’t treatin’ you like a goddamned rookie,” he growled out, his cold brown gaze entirely focused on your own broken one as one hand slams into the wall by your head. Even through your rage, he can see it. Feel it. He had broken you. And that knowledge caused his alpha to writhe in pain. “I’m treatin’ ya like my fuckin’ omega.” 

As he caged you in, growled those words at you, your own expression hardened. Your lips curled up to reveal your smaller omega fangs, a low growl of your own reverberating from your chest as your hands clenched into fists. It’s hard to ignore the sheer size difference between the two of you as he towers over you, his head dipped low to keep your attention. However, that did nothing to stop your rage, in fact, it increased it tenfold. 

“Oh, right. I forgot. Being your omega means less than being one of your rookies, silly me.”

You knew the second the words left your mouth that you just opened a Pandora’s box. You saw it in the way his eyes instantaneously darkened, in the way his hand left the wall before you could even blink, his fingers crushing your jaw between them in a bruising grip, forcing your head back against the wall as he brought his face ever closer to yours. However, as his face got closer, you could see the glint of something else in his eyes. Triumph. His alpha was revelling in watching you snap and get fiery again. It was a victory, in his mind, to see you able to be so angry after the bond sickness had taken so much from you. “Watch it, sweetheart,” he muttered, his voice low and gruff. “I know that attitude of yours will always be there, but careful.”

His words sent another wave of anger through you, and as he forced your head back, you jerked your neck, snapping your teeth at him, your small omega fangs glinting in the low light of his quarters. It was a clear message. Fuck the bond sickness, he had no right to touch you right now. You did not forgive him, and he has to work to even begin to earn that, and if he won’t? You would dissolve the bond without him, whether or not it risked your life. 

“Don’t sweetheart me,” you growled out, glaring up at him even as the bruising grip of his fingers squished your cheeks together, slurring your words. “Not after everything.”

His alpha instincts flared again, the desire to force you into accepting his help clear as his eyes flashed in irritation at your anger. He pressed you further into the wall, his body now flush against yours as he snarled right back. “Then do something about it,” he challenged. “Get mad. Fight me. Let it all out. But, you’re not leaving this room until you let me fix this.”

As much as you hated it, hearing Simon’s permission gave you the ability to let it all out. No matter how much you wanted to pretend that you were unaffected by him, the knowledge that he wanted you to fight, wanted to fix this broken bond between you, allowed you to finally and truly get all of the anger out, and maybe, just maybe, give the bond a chance to heal. 

And so you did. Your body jerked against his, your sallow cheeks flushing red as you bared your omega fangs and growled at him again. Your eyes held the faintest spark of life, a far cry from what they used to have, but there was something there now. 

When Simon saw that spark, the faintest hint of his omega coming back, he chuckled gruffly, his eyes glinting with a possessive heat. 

“Yes, spitfire. I want you t’ fight me. Hit me, scream, yell at me, tell me how shit of an alpha I’ve been. I don’t care. Just don’t. Hold. Back.” 

As soon as the words left his mouth, the dam inside of you broke. Months worth of anger, agony, grief, pain, and aching sadness flooded your veins like a hot, volatile drug. It felt like a living, breathing thing as the emotions curled around your lungs, your muscles, your heart. Tears pushed at your lash line, the aching pain making itself known through the rage. 

You held his cold brown gaze for a moment, your eyes searching his. When all you saw in return was steely determination, you did the only thing you could think of. Before he could even move out of the way, you shut your eyes and cranked your head back as far as it would go, and drove your forehead straight into his nose. It wasn’t nearly hard enough to break it, but definitely hard enough to hurt and make the blood start flowing. 

He staggered back from you, his hands coming up to cup his nose, but the alpha was far from angry. In fact, he was grinning, the blood pouring from his nose coating his lips and teeth. A low growl of approval rumbled from his chest as he stared at you, approval glinting in his eyes. “Good girl,” he muttered lowly, the praise slipping through so naturally. 

As his praise washed over you, you felt your stomach flip. It shouldn’t feel that good. Not after the months and months of neglect so bad that you were literally dying. But, you couldn’t help the small ember of warmth that bloomed through your chest as that muttered praise of good girl flowed through your veins like a warm blanket settling over you. 

But, you were still angry. And hurt. And countless other emotions that you couldn’t even begin to name, all just culminating into a neverending ache. And as you saw the blood marring the plush flesh of his lower lip, something inside of you snapped. 

He had made his worst mistake. He had let go of you, and now you could truly fight. 

You crouched down, using your smaller stature and power legs to kick your leg out, and you swept it across the ground, knocking the much-bigger alpha off of his feet. You watched as his massive frame hit the ground, shaking the walls, a bloom of satisfaction erupting in your chest. Adrenaline was pumping through your veins now, the only thing allowing you to move, and before he had the chance to become reoriented, you were on top of him, straddling his hips as you punched at his chest. Your tears of anguish were falling freely now, sobs breaking free with your yells. 

“You have broken me! Broken! I used to be so strong, so happy, and you destroyed that! Ripped it away from me! All because you were too fucking caught up in your own shit, your own fucking fear, that you couldn’t even be half of the alpha you needed to be!”

Simon grunted in pain as his back collided with the cold, hard tile of his quarters, his hands automatically coming up to grab at your hips. Not to shove you off, no, but to keep you on top of him. He knew he deserved this. Every punch, every pointed word, every tear. It was his penance for all of the pain and agony he had put you through, even if it was ripping his heart to absolute shreds. 

“I know, I know,” he growled softly, his voice thick with regret. “I know I did.”

You shook your head, tears and snot flying from the force. You were so angry, so hurt, but the adrenaline was quickly running its course, leaving behind only bone-deep exhaustion and pain. Your punches slowly weakened, until you were barely able to lift your hands. Instead, they came to rest on his bare chest, your omega claws digging sharply into the thick muscle that covered his chest, one of your hands directly over his heart, needing him to feel a fraction of the agony that coursed through your own. 

“Don’t you agree with me! Don’t you dare! Gods, you do this to me for months, and you… you have nothing to say for yourself!? I tried! Tried to be a good spouse, a good omega! I tried to give you your space, to be unobtrusive, even though that killed my omega! And all I fuckin’ got in return is this fucking bond sickness that is killing me! Tearing me apart from the inside out!” 

His body shuddered as your claws dug into his chest, his skin breaking under the tiny points. It hurt in every way that it could, but the tiny pinpricks of blood that welled around your claws were nothing compared to how he had hurt you. He knew that he deserved this, every inch of your wrath, of your anger, and the pain it brought for him. It was the least he could do - to bear this for you. But, Gods, it didn’t stop your words from tearing into his heart in a way your claws couldn’t even begin to touch. 

“I know, sweetheart, I know,” he repeated, his words thick with the guilt that was threatening to choke him. “And I’m sorry. I’m so damn sorry.”

His apology broke what little strength you had left. The bond between you was fraying, seconds away from snapping completely, and you had never felt more lost. A sob broke free from your lips, the force of the sound causing your body to lurch forward. But, Simon was there. For once, he was there. His chest caught your head, your tears wetting his skin almost instantaneously as your claws scratched down his torso, leaving thin, raised red lines down his scarred skin. 

He hissed softly in response to the pain, but he made no attempt to move, to shy away from it. You had completely given up on your ego, your omega so desperate for your alpha, no matter what he had done. But, you were still so hurt, your omega so wounded that you had no idea how you were going to come back from this. 

“Just… just tell me why. Why did you do this? Why did you treat me like this?” you sobbed out into his chest, your sour, distressed omega pheromones wafting around him like a shroud of despair. 

His alpha writhed in pain at your scent. It was wrong, so, so wrong, but he had done this. His neglect, his apathy, had taken his once strong, ferocious omega and reduced her down to this. He had never seen you like this. And he never wanted to again. He could feel the bond between you slipping between his fingers, and fear rose to take its place. He wrapped his arms around you, cradling your tiny, trembling form against him, his nose burying into your hair as he pressed a featherlight, shaking kiss into it. He swallowed harshly against the lump in his throat, his heart clenching in fear. In pain. In anger at himself. “I was a coward, love.” 

You sobbed harder against his chest at his admission, shaking your head jerkily. Your body felt like it was freezing and burning up at the same time, as the frayed edges of the bond dug into you like poisonous thorns. You could feel your mind shattering, your heart stuttering as the bond sickness continued to take hold. You were dying, and you knew it. But at this point, you would almost take death over the amount of pain you were in. “That’s not a good excuse,” came your shaking reply, the words thick with tears and agony, but they were strong with conviction. “Tell me why, Simon. Tell me why, or break the godsdamned bond.” 

The words that left your lips felt like they were suffocating the alpha. Break the bond. His arms tightened around you until you were completely pressed against him, and he could feel every shudder, every quiver in your weakening body. A low growl rumbles from his chest, the sound full of pain but also a desperate desire to comfort. He had to try - to even attempt to explain, even if he wasn’t sure it would do anything. But the thought of losing you without even trying made his heart shatter, his alpha howl in protest. 

“Because I was afraid,” he murmured, his voice thick with regret and honesty as his knuckles ran across the knobs of your spine. That caused him more pain than you would ever know, feeling how you had atrophied from his neglect. How his dismissal, his abandonment had caused his once strong, beautiful omega, to waste away before his very eyes. “Afraid of getting caught up in you, in this. Of loving you, of giving you part of my heart. I didn’t know how to keep you safe. I didn’t think I was worthy of having something like that, like you. I still don’t.” 

“Then break the bond,” you whimpered out, the pain of the bond sickness, of your own emotions, and what little of Simon’s you could still feel through the barest threads of the bond ricocheting through your body, reduced you to little more than a husk lying on top of Simon. Your heart was shattering along with the bond, the broken edges of each splintering in a way that made it hard for you to breathe. Your breath pushed and pulled achingly achingly against your chapped lips like broken glass, just another thing ripping your very being apart. 

“If you can’t do this… I’ll… I’ll figure it out. The brass’ll let me stay, at least for a little bit. But, I can’t… I can’t keep doin’ this. ‘M not asking for love. ‘M not asking to be a real marriage, but I can’t be apart of a bond where ‘m not… where ‘m not bein’ taken care of. I can’t.” 

Your words were slurring, little more than a broken and pain-filled whimper against his broad chest, and Simon could practically hear the way his heart shatters beneath you. He did this. He did this. And yet, the selfish part of him couldn’t bear the thought of losing you, no matter how much pain he had put you through. The alpha snarled as he wrapped his arms around your ever-weakening frame impossibly tighter, as if he was afraid that if he didn’t hold you tight enough, you’d slip away from him forever. 

“No, baby, no,” he replied softly, but the words were filled with a growl of conviction, of promise. “I was stupid. I was so stupid, and I hurt you. Let me… let me fix this, okay? Please, baby. Lemme fix you. Just for right now.” 

Simon was begging. You didn’t know if you had ever heard him beg before, but here he was, begging you to allow him the chance to fix you. Your exhausted, wounded omega perked up a bit at his conviction, but you couldn’t help but feel like this was far too little, far too late. “I… I don’t know, Simon. How can you… how can you fix this?” 

The pained gasps between your words drove a stake of fear through Simon’s heart, his alpha whimpering painfully. He swallowed harshly against the ever-growing lump in his throat, as he knew that he had to be the pillar of strength. If he broke right now, there was no hope for you. His lips brushed against the top of your head as he inhaled your sour, rotted scent in despair, his hands running up and down your back in a vain attempt to soothe you. 

“Let me… let me have a chance,” the alpha, your alpha, pleaded. “Please baby, let me fix this. I’ll do better, I promise. Gods, I’ll do anything. Just… just let me get you better,  baby, please. And then, if you still want to break the bond, we can, okay? Just… I can’t lose you. I can’t let you die. Not like this. Never like this.”

You felt, more than heard, his words wash over you. You could feel your body failing, the bond sickness taking what little was left of you. Even with Simon’s touch, with his promises, you had a brief moment of clarity where you just knew that this still might be it, that the bond had been strained too far, the cavernous distance between the two of you still too great, that this bond sickness might still kill you, despite his promises to fix you. 

You were so tired. So, so tired. The pain is too much, your eyelids too heavy, and it felt like what was left of your shattered heart wasn’t pumping nearly enough oxygen through your veins. You were teetering on the edge, and all you wanted to do was sleep. 

“Just… just let me sleep. In here. With you. Please?” you mumbled, the words soft and slurred. Any fight, any pride you had just a few minutes ago was long gone, and if you were going to die, your omega wanted it to be right here, in your alpha’s arms, taken peacefully in your sleep. “I need… just, please, Si.” 

Simon’s resolve shattered at the nickname that fell past your lips. He instantly sat up, gathering your frail, fragile body in his arms as he nodded, his own tears finally breaking free. 

His fault. All his fault. Always his fault. 

He quickly stood up, your body light (too light, too light) in his arms as he carried you to his bed. He was terrified. He could feel how slow your heartbeat was, how weak your body was, how slurred your words were. He shushed you softly, gently, but the sound warbled against his own tears. 

“Shhh, shhh, baby. I got you. I got you. Just… just sleep, okay? I’ll be right here. Right here. Never leavin’ your side again. I promise. I’ll be right here when you wake up. Just sleep.” 

Simon not knowing how to treat omegas, not in the traditinal way, he just take them when he need stress relief after a shitty mission.

So when he was told that they specified him a mate, he was confused. They weren't supposed to meet and sign documents in one go. The bound was often not done properly, and omegas were always harmed duo to the lack of attention from their alpha. Thats why they wanted to go back to the old ways. courting.

Courting process start with alpha presenting gifts to omega. and what can our boy buy for her? They were never met, nor given any idea of what she can possibly like.

So the only thing he could think of was one of his old hoodies. It wasn't tattered or torn, but it was clear he'd been wearing it for a long time. The black fabric had taken on the shape of his body, the slight stretch from his large bicep and massive chest, and most importantly, his scent all over it.

He didn't even think about how much it might scares her. Make her feel unsafe.

He always wore it when he was on leave. All of his thoughts, rage, worries, and negative feelings was remained on his hoodie through his scent.

And the size of it? a huge alpha with twisted mind.

The next phase of courting is basically dating. And after months, they start the third phase, chasing.

But since we dont have enough time, they are going to skip the second phase and go straight to chasing.

Usually, after sharing some time together, they become more familiar with each other's scents and can react better to them. But they haven't meet yet, so it's going to be more like a predator and prey then chase for bonding.

Clearing the base, they let the omega walk at the hallways and leave her scent every were, then release the beast. She must run and he must follow, but he freezes after smelling her sweet scent. dumb-struck, excited and aroused.

Like i said, simon don't know shit about tradition. imagine his sweet omega looking around, waiting, confused about what is going on, what should she be expecting but the alpha is nowhere to be found , she doesn't even smell anything to indicate that he is near.

Desperate, she decides to go back to her room and call Laswell. Explain what happened, maybe they can try again later. But the closer she gets to her room, the stronger the familiar -yet not-so-familiar- scent becomes. When she reaches her door, she realizes that Instead of following, catching and claiming her, her alpha has come towards her room, marked out a considerable radius with his own scent wall to prevent any alphas from getting close to her.

What a silly man he is...

-------‐----

Love alpha simon, fuck up man has to deal with his sweet omega that he craves but she doesn't want him :(

Pls conasider that im not a writter and english is not my first language! Tnx for reading till end♡.

Omega!Reader who is sex repulsed but wants pups so during their next heat them and Alpha!Simon try for pups

Omega!Reader and Alpha!Simon are so excited but want to keep it a secret until they’re certain

Omega!Reader and Alpha!Simon and the task force get sent out on a mission. They figure it’ll be fine it seems standard nothing they haven’t done before

And then something goes horribly wrong and Alpha!Price has the choice between pulling Alpha!Simon or Omega!Reader

He pulls Simon

His logic is sound, why would anyone hurt an omega? Sure you’re part of their task force but you’re an omega you’re still highly valued so at the very least they won’t kill you and your pack can get you back and he knows you’re a tough soldier, that you won’t crack

Alpha!Simon who explodes at Price in the safe house in front of Soap and Gaz revealing to the team that you guys had been trying for pups

The team that is horrified

Alpha!Price who didn’t know his boys were trying for pups

Alpha!Price who prays you aren’t pregnant because he would be heartbroken if anything happened to you or your unborn pups

Omega!reader who is pregnant and captured

Omega!reader that is pregnant and tortured

Omega!reader who’s captors can tell by their scent that they’re pregnant and try to use that to get information from them

Omega!reader who refuses to crack like the good soldier they are even when their captors threaten their pups

Omega!reader who panics when their captors start getting physical Omega!reader who gets feral snarling, growling, snapping once their captors start targeting their belly

Omega!reader who is heartbroken and sobs in their cell when there’s blood soaking their pants after a few days

Alpha!Simon who apologizes to Alpha!Price and reassures him that he made the right call with the information he was given and that it’s his fault for not telling him

Alpha!Simon who is the first to see Omega!reader when they are rescued, tied to a chair beaten and bruised with a red face from crying and a raw voice from sobbing

And he knows

Alpha!Simon who crouches in front of them and reassures them as one of the boys untie them

“No he’s not mad, you made the right choice, it’s okay, you followed your training like the good soldier you are, you’re such a good boy it’s okay, it’s not your fault”

Alpha!Price who still feels guilty about his choice

Omega!reader who stays in their room for weeks mourning and refusing to come out

Alpha!Simon who understands this was hard on them and dutifully takes care of them while they mourn

Alpha!Simon and Omega!Reader who both feel responsible for what happened but reassure each other that it’s not their fault

Omega!Reader who some what goes back to normal after a while and the pack supports them not bringing it up but being there if they want to talk about it or still need comfort

Alpha!Simon who makes sure next time they’re trying that Alpha!Price and they whole team for that matter knows

It’s not enough, and yet, you don’t do anything to stop it. You’re the one continuing, actually, the one who chose this, the one that shoved him down onto the bed and climbed over him. It was as if you couldn’t think, like you weren’t right in the head. That familiar, hazy cloud was blinding, and Simon loved taking advantage of it. 

Watching you move over him like this isn’t anything new, it’s how most of your cycles started, actually. Being as close as physically possible to him, rubbing your body on him, begging for him. And he was cocky as all hell when seeing you like this. Even now, he’s laying there, one arm curled back to support his head. Every now and then, you hear - feel, a deep chuckle rumble through his chest. He likes this, likes being there for you through this. 

Your rushed and sloppy movements are dizzying, trying to get as much friction as possible while both of you are still fully clothed. Huffing out an exhausted breath, you fall forward onto him, resting over his chest. But you don’t stop moving. If anything, the heat coiling in your belly only burns brighter, hotter, your hips in constant motion. You’ve already cum once like this, and you’re sure you can do it again. Lazily, Simon’s free hand comes to rest on your hips, moving with your body while you thrust yourself onto him. And it’s only when you begin to whimper, that he finally speaks. 

“Look at you…” Ghost grumbles, eyes already half-lidded with want. “My perfect bitch in heat.”

Lifting your head, you rest your cheek against the hard shell of his mask, whining. Opening your mouth, your tongue lays out, licking a small stripe up the side of that alluring mask. The wet muscle roams the curves and divots there, and you end up keeping your mouth open for so long that saliva begins to drip onto him. It’s sloppy, it’s shameful, and he fucking loves it. 

One thing Simon absolutely adored about you, was that you didn’t act like the typical Omega. Upon your first meeting, he’d almost believed you were an Alpha, even a Beta, at least. But the smell you exuded when he was in your presence gave everything away. Nevertheless, you’re a feisty little thing, you fight for what you want; and you impressed him. Upon your first few intimate encounters, Ghost discovered that instead of laying down to submit, like any Omega would, you presented yourself to him. You’d lean forward on your knees, shoving your ass into the air and spreading yourself, fluttering and just waiting for him. You were so eager to have him, eager for him to have you. And clearly, nothing has changed.

Simon’s smell saturated every one of your senses, filling your body with pure ecstasy and delight. His body tensed beneath you, trying to restrain himself, trying to let you do this before he shoved you down and fucked you dumb. That was inevitable, of course, and he knows it’s exactly what you want. But he figures he’ll let you get this out of your system, too. 

By the time he found you, he’d actually felt bad. You were wandering the base, looking for him. He knew when your heat was due and you were shocked to not see him anywhere near you, which usually meant something important was keeping him busy. And when you finally discovered that he was in a meeting with Price, you marched back to his room to sulk. 

Piling up Simon’s dirty clothes, you plopped them onto his bed, nuzzling into them, humping them. You paid no mind to the sound of your own voice, nor how high it was becoming while you whined his name, begging for him to come back. And when he finally did, walking in on you like that… was quite the fucking sight. Sure, you’d made a small nest of his things in the past, but never before has he walked in on you rubbing yourself over them. As soon as Ghost stepped into his room, he could instantly smell the heat on you, and seeing his Omega so needy for him made his pride shine. The decision to walk in and let you do whatever you wanted to him before he laid you down to breed your pliant little body, was both easy and quick. 

“Simon,” Gasping against his faux face, you feel Ghost’s free hand slide up to your back, rubbing it kindly. 

“I’m here, love.” And for the first time tonight, he finally moves, pushing his hips up against you. “Do what you want,” He encourages sweetly, quietly. Turning his head, he rubs his forehead against your own, inhaling deeply. “Please yourself… let me see.” 

Finding the junction of his neck, your teeth come out, digging into his gland. You’ve given each other these bites before, marking the other as your mate. But every time you connect, you can’t help but do it again, claiming the other so physically, so carnally. Simon tilts his head back when you do it, too, displaying his throat for you. And all you do is bite, bite into his skin and suck on it until it’s purple and red, inhaling his scent, wanting to forever wear it. 

“Mouth,” Comes your sudden, soft cry. “I want your mouth.”

Simon grins. “Then find it.” 

As soon as he gives you permission, your hands are scrambling up his chest and to his neck, finding the edge of his covering and lifting it. He allows you to remove it completely, smiling at you in the dimness of his room. But you barely have time to admire his beauty before laying your palms on his face and diving down. In an instant, your lips are on his, mouths opening and swapping spit. Ghost lifts his chin then, meeting your movements. Your kisses were always sloppy, always hungry; and Simon loved it. The feeling of his mouth on your own after not seeing him for so long while you’ve needed him so bad, it sets your skin alight, fire burning beneath your outer layer and shooting right to your very soul. This is your partner, your mate, the one you’re bonded to. 

Simon’s groans echo into your mouth as you slowly devour him, shoving your tongue past his lips while breathing heavily against him. It aroused you both, the way he allowed this, allowed you to act out these aggressive bursts of arousal before he took control again. 

A chuckle rumbles from his throat when you suck his tongue past your lips, pulsing your own around the wet muscle. Your lover grins, voice deep as he says, “You like sucking on my tongue?”

“Yes, baby.” It’s the crack in your voice, the slight whimper that it is… that so easily displays your submissiveness. 

At that moment, Ghost’s hands slide beneath your shirt, touching the skin along your hips. And the sensation forces a shiver through your center, immediately leaning in to shove your face into his neck. 

“When’re you gonna let me take you, huh?” He asks lowly into your ear. “When’re you finally gonna stop with these horny little actions?”

“Now,” Instantly, you’re wanting to please him. “W-Whenever you want.”

With a harsh grunt, Simon is forcing you back and off of him, turning to toss you down onto his bed. Standing, he stares down at you, calming his own breaths while removing his shirt. He’s all too eager for this. And with a single nod and you’re undressing yourself, too, following his movements. You mirror him, doing as he does, removing each piece in the same fashion. 

“Like a lost puppy,” Simon grins, shaking his head. “Doing whatever I do, whatever I want you to do.”

All your response consists of is a slow nod, alongside those sweet, charming, doe-like eyes. And that drives him wild inside. 

Staring up at Simon, at the broad, strong man that he is, all you can feel is an overwhelming sensation of gratefulness. You feel insanely, incredibly, undeniably lucky. Simon is an amazing Alpha - he’s everything you could ever want. Strong, tall and broad, high-ranking and respected. Simon commanded any room he walked into, and it made you nearly fall to your knees the first time you met him. Thank god it didn’t take long for him to catch on to your likeness. But aside from all that, he cared for you, he provided for you. With him, you never had to want for anything. With him, you were safe. 

Tossing his items down on the bed, he makes sure to scatter them, laying them out in your nest. He knows the best smell will come from the most recent clothes he’s worn. His shirt, his pants, even his socks and boxers, all slightly damp from sweat and he knows the scent is sure to drive you mad. 

“God,” Inhaling a sharp breath, Ghost dives down, hovering over you and grabbing onto your jaw. Dark eyes rake over your features, over your naked body. “I fucking love you.” It’s the last thing he says before crushing his mouth to yours, spare hand sliding up to your chest. 

Beneath his fingertips, the ones wrapped around your jaw, he can feel your heartbeat. Oh, how rapid it becomes for him. And he can feel his own picking up speed, as well. The blood beneath his skin runs hot throughout his body, rushing wildly in his ears. The constant, powerful thump in his chest, the thrum of arousal flooding his crotch, it consumes him.

“Baby, ple-please.” With how ravenous his mouth has become, you can barely get a word out, let alone a proper breath. It’s all spit and tongue, your teeth clashing every now and then. He just wants to ravage you, break you apart so he can put you back together again. His passion is also evident in the way that he grabs you, fisting your breast in his hand. 

Before ripping himself away from you, Simon’s mouth slides down to your neck, lips dragging over the delicate skin before he reaches the junction of your shoulder. As soon as he’s there, he’s biting into you, teeth digging into your gland while inhaling the beautiful aroma you exude. The pain fades when your hips cant upwards, just barely able to rub against him. 

“Turn over,” Simon finally decides, forcing himself away from your neck. With heavy breaths, he backs away, giving you the room to move. “Present for me.” Simon always liked having you bent over on your knees.

Quickly, you scramble to satisfy him, turning over with a wild grin crossing your face. The way you arch your back has him groaning, one hand lifting to lazily swat at your ass. And even that light of a hit shows you how much strength his body possesses. You’re more than aware of that, of how powerful Simon’s body is, and still, you choose to be at his mercy. You want to be. Laid out for him to admire, for him to take. This powerful killer, holding everything that you are in the palm of his hand, it’s exhilarating. 

Reaching forward, Simon finds one of your hands, pulling it back until it’s on your ass. His silent gesture is clear as day to you, your fingertips digging into the plump skin to spread yourself open for him. 

“Thaaaaaat’s it,” Shuffling behind you, his breaths are audible, arousal flooding his body once again. “Just like that, wide open for me.”

Grabbing himself, you can hear just how slick he’s become, the squelch of his prespend beneath his moving fist. You’d give anything to see him right now, the redness of his head, veins throbbing throughout his shaft. But you don’t have time for that, not when you’re so visibly in heat. 

Ghost’s tip spreads your lips from behind, his eyes trained on where you’re due to connect. Unlike his normal antics, Simon doesn’t make you wait, he doesn’t tease you or tell you to beg. Right now, his Omega needs him. And so, he slides right in.

“Simon,” Your one hand grasps for the sheets, feeling how heavy he is inside. Turning your head, your cheek rests against his pillow, forcing an overload of Ghost’s scent through your system. It’s now that you smell his dampened clothes, his shirt and boxers laying just beside your face. Eyes closing, an incredibly wanton moan floats from your mouth, simply from experiencing it. 

“Oh… Christ.” Bottoming out, Simon grunts quietly, throbbing against your walls. You’ve taken him so many times that it’s an easy transition, feeling him fill you. But that didn’t mean it wasn’t an incredible stretch, the pleasure burning through your system from it. 

The sigh you exude is one of absolute pleasure and relaxation, your need finally being sated - for now. But at the moment, you’re just focusing on him, how he feels, how he holds you, those broad hands grabbing onto your hips. Forcing his pelvis forward, Simon grinds into you, his own jaw dropping. Almost as if he can’t help himself, he’s falling over you, firm chest pressing into your back. He holds his weight above your own, keeping you safe and surrounding you in his scent. 

“Baby,” Reaching back, you find his hair, fingers tangling into the golden locks sweetly. “My Alpha…”

And that ignites something inside him. Tilting his head downward, he drags his nose up your spine, lips landing on your shoulder blade. His breath tickles your skin, his barely-there stubble. One, strong pulse then resonates through him, feeling your walls hold him tight.

“I’m yours,” Ghost promises in that deep, baritone of a voice. “I am… and you’re mine.”

He continues to move, tilting his chin upward so he can kiss the back of your neck, breathing against you while wrapping his arms around your midsection. 

“Please,” You’d been doing your best to be well behaved for him, to not outwardly beg too much, but you need this. “Please, Simon. You’re here, you’re inside me… I need you.”

A small snarl spills from his lips as he pulls out about halfway before shoving himself back in. And from the start, his pace is brutal, skin hot to the touch as it rubs along your own. His breaths are ragged and deep, eyes watching the way your backside bounces against him. Already, he can hear your panting, slithering a hand down to your clit so he can hear you whine. 

“That easy, huh?” He goads, feeling your body shake after only a few circles around the sensitive bud. “Perfect little slag.” Leaning in, Simon plants a sloppy kiss onto your cheek, urging you on. “Cum on me, love. Feels so good when you do.” 

“S-Simon,” It’s all you need to unravel, your thighs shaking from the pleasure and his brute force. He’s already punching himself against that pleasurable spot deep inside your walls, his fingers pressing harder against your clit. 

He can feel the way you spasm around him, can feel the slickness of your arousal coating his shaft. But he doesn’t stop, he rides you through it, fucking himself into you again and again. 

“Good little Omega,” Ghost purrs against your cheek, lowering his head to bite into your neck. 

Your eyes have rolled back into your head, pleasure reaching every one of your nerve endings. It washes over your body, through your hips, your limbs, up through your chest. It feels explosive, and satisfying, a start to fully satiating the primal need growing in your belly. 

With your body going relatively limp, Simon lifts himself from you, one hand staying on your hips to hoist you further into the air. And then his other is grabbing the back of your neck and forcing your face into the mattress, into the wet clothes he’d added to your nest. The motion is surprisingly rough, igniting a new spark already licking up your spine. 

“Smell it.” Simon demands, pushing your face into the fabric. “Smell me - scent yourself with it.”

He can barely hear your moans, every beautiful sound and deep inhale muffled by the fabric. This is all you want, to be covered in it, in him. There hasn’t been a single day where you haven’t been elated to wear to his scent, to show the world you’re taken. And not just by anyone, but by him. 

“Listen to you,” He’s panting out every breath, pumping himself into your welcoming walls. “So fucking wet. How many times have you cum, love? Two, maybe three?” And then he finds himself overcome with the urge to taste, to lick up the arousal spilling between your legs.

“Baby,” Your whine is high and shrill, feeling empty without him.

“Hush,” Ghost returns firmly, pulling out and bending down. 

Little time goes by before your questions disappear, feeling Simon’s mouth connect with your pink lips.

“Oh…” Slumping down, you sigh, relaxing into his touch. 

Holding your hips, Simon presses his face into you, licking into your hole. He can taste the remnants of your orgasm, can smell your combined scent. The sloppy squelch of his insistent mouth against your sex can be heard throughout the room, forcing a delicious smirk across your lips. But the knot building at the base of his shaft forces him back up, diving between your legs once again. 

“G-Ghost, Simon!” With the combination of his mouth and cock, you’re near overstimulation. 

“It’s so goddamn easy,” Shaking his head, he laughs. “You cum so easy like this.” And when you’re in heat, how can you not? 

“M-More,” Your arms are trembling, feeling absolutely conquered by your mate. But still, you’re hungry, wanting.

“What? Has my sweet Omega not had enough?”

“I need more.” Groaning, you toss your head back, feeling Simon’s chest return. 

“I’ll give you more.” Simon snarls against your ear, biting into it. And then he’s returning to the marks he’s already made, teeth imprinting into your skin, blossoming bruises just beneath the surface. There’s one bite in particular that draws blood and has you shrieking, Simon’s tongue lapping at it shortly after. 

“I can f-feel it.”

“Yeah? You feel it growing?” 

“I want it.”

“I know you do, and I’m gonna give it to you. Fill you, fuck you full and plug you with it.” His promises are spoken through quiet gasps, his own high nearing. “Christ, I need this. Always will… gorgeous, wet fucking hole. I’ll always need you.”

Listening to him say he needs you, that he needs this connection with you, makes your entire head spin. Tears form near the lashes along your eyes, feeling safe and secure with him, wanted by him. 

“Simon, please. Give it to me.” Every vein, every heavy pulse, are all felt along your velvety walls. 

All Simon can smell is you, your sweet aroma. He salivates at the sensation of it, wanting nothing more than to claim it for himself. And he’s glad to do so, over and over again. It’s addictive - you draw him in like some seductive siren, appearing so charming and innocent. And to an extent, you are, until that filthy side comes out.

“Fuck,” Your lover grunts, voice slightly higher as he breathes out the word. 

The knot growing at his base is slowly but surely catching on the thin rim of your lips, the feeling painful but worth it. The heat radiating from your body spills over to him, warming him, telling Simon’s body that it’s safe to release. 

Hard and sharp thrusts burst from his pelvis, forcing his flushed cock into your slick entrance. It’s delicious, the euphoria coursing through him, his jaw dropping, eyes drooping. Now that he’s fulfilled your need, his duty to you during this time, he becomes selfish. Pressing himself flush against your plush backside, Simon stills, body trembling. His base swells, knot plugging your entrance while he floods your insides. Strong hips rock against your own, pumping his spend into you, feeling it rush from his tip. 

“Alpha,” It’s the only thing spilling from your lips, your sex throbbing fiercely around him. 

“G-Give it to you, I’ll give it to you. Keep you full, breed this cunt.” 

“Simon,” Crying out softly for him, you feel his body begin to fully relax, breaths puffing out of his chest. It feels warm, your insides coated in a thick layer of his arousal. 

“Mine, always mine. Always, love.”

“I know,” Nodding, you sigh out, feeling his lips kiss along your back. “Always.” 

At this point, you expect to rest, feeling his weight crush you comfortably until the swelling at his base subsides. But to your surprise, he pulls you back, maneuvering the two of you down onto the bed. Simon keeps your back against his chest, holding you from behind and finally allowing you to relax. 

Ghost knows you’ll need more, and he’ll give it to you when he can. But for now, he holds you, face dipping down to find the marks he’s left on your skin. With long, slow movements, he licks them, showing the slightest bit of remorse. 

“Was I too hard on you?”

“No, no, not at all.” A bright smile forms on your lips, admiring his gentler side. “You know I love it, Si.” 

“Mm,” Humming quietly, Ghost closes his eyes, keeping himself between your legs while mending the indentations he’s left in your skin. 

If anyone were to walk into the room right now, it’d wreak of arousal and sweat, of adoration and commitment. But neither of you have to worry about that, few people on base would dare to interrupt this. One of your most intimate moments, shared just between the two of you. Once again, you feel lucky, covered completely by your Alpha and his scent, filled with everything he has to give.