Gregory FNAF - Omegaverse AU

Bullworth Academy wasn't just an educational institution. Not really.

The classrooms, the hallways, the courtyard… every space was marked by something more than the normal dynamics of any other school. Here, biology dictated the rules. It wasn’t enough to be smart, athletic, or charismatic. It didn’t matter if you came from a rich or poor family. What really defined your position was what ran through your veins.

Alpha. Beta. Omega.

The system was as old as humanity itself, but here, in a place filled with teenagers driven by hormones and social expectations, it became a game of survival.

The Alphas ruled, as always. It wasn’t just about strength or size. Some weren’t even the tallest or most muscular, but there was something about them: a presence that demanded attention, respect, or fear. An Alpha could be the king of the school or a nobody, but there was always the pressure to be something. To stand out. To impose oneself. Because an Alpha who failed to lead… well, wasn’t worthy of being called an Alpha.

Betas floated through the social structure like cogs in a larger machine. They didn’t have the pressure of Alphas or the vulnerability of Omegas. For some, it was a blessing: a life without expectations, without the need to constantly prove themselves. For others, it was frustrating: an eternal second place in a world that seemed to move on without them.

And then there were the Omegas.

The old stigma of submission was still present, but Bullworth was not a place where stereotypes went unchallenged. There were Omegas who bowed to pressure, yes, but there were also those who fought it tooth and nail. Some played on the perception of fragility to manipulate, others completely rejected the role biology had given them. In ancient times, Omegas were seen as weak, in need of protection. In Bullworth, they were unpredictable. Some Alphas still tried to assert their dominance,

but not all Omegas were willing to accept it.

Here, the problem was nothing other than Alfism.

The system that put Alphas at the top and measured them by their ability to control and possess. A mindset that pushed the strong to be stronger, the Betas to not interfere, and the Omegas to fit in or resist.

But true power was not just in instinct.

It was about knowing when to challenge him.

Gregory is an Alpha, but not the typical dominant who imposes himself with force or aggression. His control does not come from brutality, but from his presence, from the way he moves and observes, more calculating than impulsive. He is an Alpha who does not need to prove anything for people to notice him.

Evan, on the other hand, is an Omega who rejects expected submission. He is not fragile, he does not seek protection, nor does he follow imposed biological norms. In a world where Omegas are often seen as prey or dependent figures, Evan refuses to fit into that mold.

Both break away from what the society of their world dictates they should be. And perhaps, for that very reason, they are drawn towards each other.

Gregory is shorter than other Alphas his age, causing many to underestimate his presence at first. His build is slim, but not frail; he has a lithe body, built for moving quickly rather than imposing himself with brute force. His skin is light tan, with a few marks on his elbows and knees that indicate he's spent too much time running, climbing, or running away from trouble.

His hair is dark brown, with always messy locks that he rarely bothers to comb. He keeps his hood up most of the time, more of a habit than a necessity. His hazel eyes appear dull at first glance, but when he sets his sights on something—or someone—they have an intensity that's hard to ignore.

He always wears comfortable, functional clothing, usually baggy sweatshirts and slightly worn jeans. He doesn't follow the academy's dress code with much enthusiasm. His hands have calluses on the fingers, possibly from holding objects too tightly.

He usually wears clothes in a somewhat dull or neutral tone, but mostly wears a bluish-colored t-shirt with two light blue stripes on the chest, combined with tan-beige shorts, and red platform sneakers with white socks sticking out.

Gregory is not a traditional Alpha. He doesn't seek to impose his presence with force or to be noticed with aggression. His leadership is not loud or demanding, but silent, based on observation and control of the situation. He doesn't need to fight to make people feel his authority; his calculating attitude and sharp gaze are usually enough for most people to prefer not to mess with him.

He has a keen survival instinct, as if he is always ready to flee or fight back at any moment. He doesn't trust anyone easily and hates rules that try to box him into a stereotype. The social structure of Alphas, Betas and Omegas seems absurd to him, but he knows how to navigate within it so as not to become an easy target.

He is quiet, but not shy. If he speaks, it is because he has something to say, and when he does, his words are sharp and direct. He is not interested in being liked or admired; he only cares about staying safe and not owing anyone anything.

He has a dry, sarcastic sense of humor, almost cruel at times. He is not the type of Alpha who seeks to dominate with grandiloquent gestures; his dominance is subtle, almost passive, but undeniable.

Gregory's pheromones are unusual for an Alpha. They are neither intensely dominant nor warm as one would expect from his kind. Instead, they have a dry, bitter scent, with metallic notes, as if carrying with them an implicit warning. To most, his scent is uncomfortable, a sign that he is not an ordinary Alpha.

Yet for those perceptive enough, there is something else beneath that bitterness: a faint trace of burnt wood and dry rain, a hint of pent-up emotions that rarely let out. These are neither aggressive nor comforting pheromones, but something in between: unpredictable, disconcerting, impossible to fully decipher.

For Omegas seeking security in an Alpha, Gregory is a paradox. He doesn't offer protection, but he doesn't threaten possession either. He's just himself, an Alpha who doesn't fit into any mold, and who doesn't intend to.

Gregory enjoys quiet places, those corners that people tend to ignore. He doesn’t like to be interrupted when he’s in his own world, observing from a distance, analyzing the patterns of those around him. He’s always been that way. He prefers to listen before speaking, to understand how others move, what motivates them, what holds them back. It’s a custom rather than a habit, a necessity rather than a simple preference.

He finds the rain comforting, especially when he can listen to it without getting wet. The constant sound on the roof, the feeling of the cold air, the tranquility it brings. He likes fast food because it saves him time and effort, because he doesn't have to sit at a table full of people, which is exhausting for him.

He finds strategy games interesting. Not because he likes challenges, but because he enjoys the feeling of being in control of a situation, of anticipating what is coming. Anything that involves thinking before acting captures his attention. He is not impulsive; patience has served him better than strength.

He can't stand crowds. The feeling of being trapped among too many people makes him feel uncomfortable, which is difficult to explain. He doesn't care if people try to pigeonhole him into the image of the protective Alpha, it's not his style, and it never will be. Loud people exhaust him. He prefers the right words to unnecessary shouting.

Being touched without permission is one of the things he hates the most. It's not fear or aversion, it's a matter of control. His space is his, and anyone who crosses it without warning generates immediate rejection. He doesn't like losing control of a situation, not knowing what's going on. And above all, he hates being underestimated. He's not the biggest or strongest Alpha, but that doesn't mean he doesn't know how to move in this world.

Gregory has a habit of looking before he acts. He's not one to rush into things without first analyzing the situation. He's always looking for the best angle, the best way out, the hidden advantage that others overlook. It's a habit that has served him well, both in high school and out.

He puts his hands in his pockets almost automatically, a gesture of comfort and defense at the same time. He keeps his hood up when he can, not because he has something to hide, but because it helps him filter out the noise of the outside world.

When he's restless, he plays with any small object at hand: a coin, an eraser, the edge of his sleeve. He doesn't do it consciously, but his fingers are always moving when his mind is processing something.

He doesn't like eating in crowded places. If he has the option, he prefers to eat alone, in a secluded corner or outdoors, where he can relax without feeling stared at.

If he feels someone is sizing him up, he responds in kind. He doesn't pull away, he doesn't get uncomfortable. He simply stares back, expressionless, until the other person gives in first.

Before going to sleep, he checks his surroundings more than once. It is a reflex rather than a habit, a need to make sure that everything is in order, that nothing will take him by surprise. He never sleeps deeply; his rest is light, interrupted by momentary awakenings where he confirms that everything is as it should.

In his mating season, Gregory becomes even more reserved and meticulous than usual. While other Alphas may become more aggressive or dominant, he handles it with ironclad control, suppressing any sign of vulnerability. He doesn't like anyone to notice the change in his behavior, so he tries hard to remain calm, though his patience shortens and his temper becomes more irritable.

His pheromones intensify, becoming thicker and more penetrating. They are not sweet and enveloping, but bitter and harsh, like smoke or hot metal, a presence that is felt in the air without necessarily being oppressive. They do not seek to attract, but to warn. It is a clear sign that he is not an Alpha to be trifled with.

During this time, he avoids crowded enclosed spaces, especially if there are Omegas around. Not because he fears them, but because he hates being driven by instinct. He doesn't like the idea of ​​giving in to something he doesn't fully control. However, if an Omega in heat gets too close to him, his self-control is tested. His gaze darkens, his body tenses, and his voice takes on a deeper tone, almost as if he's growling involuntarily.

The insomnia worsens. Unlike other Alphas who seek to release their energy through physical activity or casual encounters, Gregory withdraws even further into himself. He moves like a caged predator, restless but disciplined. The only way he can calm down is by isolating himself, seeking solitude until his body stops demanding the inevitable.

However, if there is someone on his radar, if there is an Omega he is truly interested in, the story changes. His gaze becomes more fixed, his presence more imposing. He does not seek to corner or mark territory immediately, but his mere existence begins to gravitate around that person, as if he is waiting for everything to fall into place. He is not one to claim with words, but his presence says it all: That Omega is mine, I will take it.

whether you know it or not.

Gregory is not the type to follow the rules of traditional courtship. He is not one to sugarcoat words, use exaggerated gestures, or seek to impress with grandiloquence. His way of courting an Omega is more silent, persistent, and, above all, territorial.

He doesn't do it right away. He observes first. He measures distances. He learns what makes him uncomfortable and what attracts him. Gregory doesn't invade an Omega's space by force, but he does make it clear that he's there. His presence is constant, inevitable, like a shadow that never leaves. He doesn't talk much, but when he does, his words carry weight, even in his apparent indifference.

His pheromones, bitter and thick, leak into the air as he approaches, marking an invisible territory he doesn't need to declare out loud. He doesn't seek to subdue, he doesn't seek to force, but he doesn't leave room for another Alpha to get too close either. If someone tries, Gregory is just there, standing with his hands in his pockets and a look in his eyes that makes it clear that competition is a pointless game.

With his particular Omega, courtship becomes more instinctive. Small gestures—not touching, but being close. Not over-talking, but listening. Not giving gifts, but showing up with something just needed. Gregory doesn't promise protection in words, but his very existence makes it obvious. And when the Omega finally challenges him, when he pushes him to see if he really is as unshakeable as he seems... Gregory smiles. Barely. Because "it" is what he wanted.

Evan grew up in a house where his father's presence filled everything. Not with affection, but with shadows. William Afton was not a man who cared for sweetness or comfort; in his world, weakness was intolerable. And Evan, with his more reserved nature, his tendency to withdraw rather than assert himself, always seemed to be on the wrong side of his father's expectations.

As a child, he learned to move silently. To avoid glances, to read the environment with the precision of someone who knows that a single mistake can make him a target. His childhood was a constant struggle between trying to be invisible and the frustration of knowing that, no matter how hard he tried, it would never be enough.

When their Omega dynamic manifested itself, there were no surprises. Only disappointment. His father said nothing, but Evan felt the weight of judgment in every silence, in every look that stuck to him like a needle. To William, an Omega was nothing more than a weak link. And Evan refused to be one.

Bullworth Academy became a battlefield where no one attacked him directly, but where he had to always be on the defensive. He knew that Omegas had a place in the hierarchy, but he was not willing to fit in. He would not be subdued, he did not seek the validation of an Alpha. He kept his head down, yes, but not out of submission, but by choice. Because in a world that expected him to lower his gaze, true rebellion was standing up without offering anything in return.

And Gregory… Gregory saw it. Not like everyone else, not with mockery or condescension. He really saw it. And that was, in many ways, much worse.

The hierarchy in the Afton family was not just a biological matter, it was a rigid structure that dictated the weight each person had to carry.

Michael, the eldest, was an Alpha. Not the kind of Alpha who imposed his presence with growls or brute force, but one of quiet authority. Ever since his father became more of a shadow than a father figure, Michael had—unwillingly, unasked—taken on as a protector. He wasn’t kind, he wasn’t warm, but he had an air of responsibility that weighed on his shoulders like an unavoidable burden.

Evan, on the other hand, was an Omega. In a house where strength and control were everything, he was the anomaly, the exception that no one knew how to handle. He didn’t fit the stereotypical image of a docile, fragile Omega, but he also couldn’t shake the condescending gaze of those who saw his nature as a weakness. Growing up among an older Alpha and a father who embodied unfettered power only made the pressure on him greater, pushing him to close himself off further, to learn to disappear even when he was in the same room as them.

Elizabeth was the youngest, the Beta. Of the three, she was the most adaptable, the one who navigated the tensions of the house without being crushed by them. She didn’t have to prove anything, she didn’t have to carry impossible expectations. She was smart and shrewd, and if she noticed the broken dynamic between her siblings, she rarely mentioned it. Not because she didn’t care, but because she knew there was no room for weakness in the Afton family.

The house was a silent battlefield, where dominance was not imposed with blows, but with glances and silences. With words that hurt more than any physical wound. In that environment, Evan learned not to expect understanding, not even from his own blood.