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I want to feel guilty. I want to feel that it's wrong. by leiseil
Fandoms: The Pitt (TV)
03 Apr 2026
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Summary
In Robby's absence, Jack Abbot's roof contemplation feels colder, more tempting than before. He expects another brisk solitary evening, but instead finds a resident breaking in his spot. He really can't help but comfort someone else, can he?
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Jack Abbot and Dennis Whitaker have sad lives. At least they can share them.
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Soap has constantly had to fight the stereotypes of his secondary gender. An omega in the military is rare enough; even more so in the SAS. He didn't let it stop him, nor the prejudices he faced from his teammates and higher ups. If they talked shit- which they did- well, Soap wasnt afraid to put the alphas in their place. It left him with a hefty amount of disciplinary reports in his file but he wore it like a badge of honor. Being an omega, always on guard and always ready to defend himself weighed on his shoulder, exhausted him straight down to his bones.
A new base, a new team, and a new taskforce; would this be a fresh start, or will Soap end up in the same cycle of bigoty he's been used to facing?
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“Simon?”
Simon slides a book into place before turning around. The man in front of him is lean, worn thin, with bags like dusky thumbprints beneath his eyes. He’s swallowed by the massive black hoodie he’s wearing, his hands wedged deep into his pockets and his shoulders hunched.
For reasons he cannot begin to understand, Simon wants to crush this man into a tiny ball and then shove him into the mouth that gapes, screaming, around his own starved heart.
He doesn’t do that, obviously. He’s on the clock.
Or: Ghost loses his memories and falls in love with his husband, again.
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Ghost had locked the door behind him within seconds, mask ripped off and forgotten, the feral creature within him screaming at the sight of a terrified Fledgling. Fledglings should not be scared. Fledglings should be cradled close and held away from the world, safe from the humans and other monsters who would dare to harm them. Fledglings should be warm with fresh blood from their Sire, teething like a newborn babe, and purring in delight while the venom works through their system peacefully. Fledglings' eyes should not be red.
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Jack smelled it as soon as he stepped outside. Metallic, clean, not human. Right at the edge of the field full of dead crops Robby hadn't bothered to burn yet, wide, glowing eyes watched Jack's every move. He slipped closer, sitting himself down in the snow and giving a low growl to the familiar figure in the snow.
Dennis gave him a crooked smile. He wore a thin sweater, the same jeans he was wearing the first time they met, and a distinct lack of shoes or socks. He looked pretty out here, snow complimenting his skin. He was too pale, even for winter. Jack could see his veins on his hands, but more distracting was the splatters of blood all over them.
"I know what you are," Dennis said. His voice was rougher now than it had been the first night. There were no humans here for him to pretend for.
Jack morphed himself back, gripping a knife in his pocket. It was silver. It burned his hand. He figured it would burn Dennis too, if he let it.
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Robby and Jack thought they had seen the last of the monsters and paranormal things in the woods a few years ago. Dennis Whitaker did nothing but prove them wrong.Series
- Part 1 of things that go “bump” in the night