Chapter Text
Simon presented at 16, later than most omegas.
He had always been big, all the military training his dad gave him only making him seem more like an alpha. Broad shoulders, big arms, he was talk too.
His family was sure that he was an alpha. His father, proud of Simon’s desire to follow the military career. “Another great alpha in the family!” He used to boast to his friends.
An alpha son, of course, was much better than a good for nothing omega. At least female omega were good for breeding, males were much less fertile and prone to dying in labor, in his father's eyes, they were useless.
But when the time came, Simon didn't present as an alpha.
His first heat was a haze, probably painful but he couldn’t recall. While most memories of the day were gone from his memories, he could never forget the look of disgust in his father's eyes. It was made clear to him at that momento that he was no longer his father's son.
When the heat was over, his mother handed him a pack of suppressants in silence, he took them without questioning. And he kept taking it despite the constant pain and nausea.
Eventually he got over it. Or, well, got good at pretending he wasn’t feeling anything.
It was hard enough for omegas to enroll in the military, he couldn’t afford to be seen as weak. Couldn’t afford to make any mistakes, anything that could make people doubt his capabilities. He kept training, pushing himself to his limits and beyond.
And so, he became The Ghost.
The cold and precise sniper, the best at clearing missions by himself. The Ghost that could torture a man to insanity without even blinking. The Ghost which face was unknown and no one dared to try to see despite their curiosity.
Ghost, the omega that could beat anyone in hand-to-hand combat. The man that rose to the role of lieutenant despite being just an omega and earned the respect of the whole country.
Well, that was written on the news, but Ghost knew it was pure bullshit.
People wanted nothing more than to see him fail so they could use him as a cautionary take. "Look, that's what happens when you let an omega join the military."
At the start, he was mindful of his every move, his posture, his manners. With time however, he became more relaxed, confident on his own abilities and aware of the weight of his role in the military. He’d talk more, crack bad jokes and even go out to drink with his fellow soldiers from time to time. Some, he would dare call his friends, but never let too close. He was The Ghost now, not Simon Riley, it was a risk he didn't want to take.
But Ghost was proud of himself, of all that he accomplished. He inspired other omegas to join the military, he punched his fair share of assholes.
Of course, it was hard to find time for dating when you spent half of your life trying to survive. By the time he was 27, Ghost had done little more than kissing another drunk stranger in a bar.
That was until 141 entered his life. The task force, sure, but the 141 pack.
An alpha-only pack composed of Captain John Price, Sargeant Soap MacTavish, Commander Farah Karim and Sargeant Kyle “Gaz” Garrick. The pack that taught a full-grown man that he didn’t have to fight alone. It was easy to become fond of someone when they had saved your ass a few times, even easier when they had saved your life.
He found a place within the task force.
Simon owed his life to Price, and probably his whole career too. The omega lost count of how many times he had saved Soap's life, but Soap kept count of how many times he had saved Ghost's life, the fucker...
Farah kept him from becoming history under a detonated building, Gaz… well, Gaz stepped on a landmine once when he went out to take a piss, that was a close call.
But not once during his years with the task force did Ghost think about being part of the pack. They were an established thing, very much in love with one another if the way they looked at each other was any evidence. And Ghost respected his teammates more than anything.
More than that, Simon was getting old. At 34, he was past what was considered the 'prime' for omegas. He had no soft skin nor sweet scent, nothing that was usually considered attractive in omegas.
So, he thought nothing of it when Soap started acting a bit more protective, or when Price scolded him for acting hastily on a mission that could’ve gotten him hurt, even if he succeeded, or when Farah volunteered to go with him on a solo mission, or when they started touching him more than normally.
Of course, a few shoulder bumps, lingering stares, standing closer than normal and he starts thinking Garrick hurt his head because suddenly the sergeant seemed to lose sense of what was personal space when standing next to Ghost.
It took months, a drunk MacTavish trying to kiss him and a really hard punch thrown at said MacTavish's face because “How could you betray your pack?” for Simon to understand it.
As Soap held some frozen peas to his face, the 141 pack sat down with Ghost and told him they’d been courting him for months now, shocked that he didn’t notice when they started leaving their scents on him.
'Course he didn't, he had scent blockers on his mask so he would not get distracted or nauseous because of the lingering effects of the suppressants.
Those suppressants, he discovered the year he got into the military. The ones his mother gave him were strong enough to set his body back into the state before presenting, actively fucking up any class-related development of his body. They were banned for causing way too many deaths and infertility in young omegas.
He’d been off those for more than a decade but his body would still feel the effects sometimes. The piercing pain that took over his body, the lack of heats or a menstrual cycle.
He’d go to have his reproductive systems checked, wouldn't be surprised if it was fucked up as well, but he didn’t.
Because well, nothing could get inside of him to actually check its state.
Ghost had vaginismus. He didn’t think much of it when he got the diagnosis, forgot about it, too focused on earning a place in the military. Sex didn’t cross his mind, sex with an alpha even less. He could pleasure himself without needing to stick his fingers or anything inside of him anyways. And Ghost had no plans on interrupting his militar career to give another generation to the cursed bloodline of the Riley's.
It never mattered until now. When Ghost was faced with four alphas asking for his permission to officially court him.
And it would be so easy to say “No” if that was really how he felt. Instead, he asked them to rethink it. And they reassured him, told Ghost they had talked about courting him plenty. Then, he asked for time to consider it.
Part of him was screaming for him to say yes, to hold on to the opportunity of being their mate. Ghost never listened to that part of himself.
It took him more than a month to give them a response and three more days of trying to make them give up on the idea before Simon gave them his answer.
It was hesitant, almost shy, if that word could ever be used to describe a man like Ghost. But when he had four alphas scrambling to hug him at the same time, “Yes.” felt like the only right answer.