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moody-alcoholic · 2 months ago

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These Violent Delights

Chapter 9 - Nothing Stays the Same

Summary: Poly 141 x fem!reader, a/b/o alternate universe 8.2k words. Why can things never stay the same, the omega just wants to be happy.

CW: a/b/o alternative universe, a/b/o dynamics, typical a/b/o universe tropes (scenting), use of weapons, Non-consensual drugging, blood, descriptions of wounds, horrible military inaccuracies, angst, nightmares, memory blackouts, gaslighting.

AN: This story arc is definitely one of the most fun I have ever written. Chapter's might come out a little quicker since I'm having so much fun writing. (No promises check HERE for updates)

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Enjoy <3

You wake before the sun is up. You would have to get used to early mornings again after you spent the last week getting as much rest as possible. The sun is just peeking through the clouds as you finish dressing and tiptoe through the barracks. As soon as you make it outside you take in a deep breath of pine filled air as you cross the green over to the lab. As you expected, Dr. Miller is the only one here this early. His head pops up from the desk as soon as you walk in.

“Good morning.” He smiles as you walk over to him.

“Good morning.” You smile at him sitting down on a stool next to him as he types something on a laptop.

“What are we doing today?” you ask, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes.

“Nothing too serious. Drink this,” he says, handing you a plastic cup filled with what looks like water.

“What is it?” you ask. He looks up at you quickly, you can smell his alpha now.

“If I tell you it could change the results. I’ll tell you after you’ve drunk it.” He smiles. You smile at him, swallowing your nerves. You bring it to your lips and drink it down as he watches you. It doesn’t taste of anything. Maybe it’s just water. You think you can taste salt but maybe that’s just your mind trying too hard. You put the empty cup down on the table. He smiles again, turning back to the laptop.

“So John is your alpha now?” he asks. Your mouth suddenly goes dry.

“Yeah,” you say, smacking your lips together.

“What about Professor Hale?”

You’re hit with a wave of dizziness. Your hand flies to the back of your neck. You cough, looking at Dr. Miller. He turns looking at you. Your body feels heavy. Adrenaline kicks in and you stand up off the stool.

What’s happening?

He gets up off his stool too as your vision goes blurry. Your body collapses to the ground.

“It’s a mild sedative, you won’t remember any of this,” he says as he bends down in front of you, his words echoing in your ears.

“It didn’t have to be like this,” he sighs. Then everything goes black.

You jump awake. You’re laid in the bed in the exam room. Your head is spinning, and you don’t remember what happened. There’s a pain at the back of your neck. Your hand goes to feel the familiar indent of John’s mark. You’re alone, the pale yellow walls being lit up with shades of red.

What happened?

You came here to see Dr. Miller.

What happened?

You get up making your way to the door. When it opens and you head to the stairs. You can only smell alpha in the air. It has to be Dr. Miller. You grip the banister as you walk down the steps. You can see the top of his head as you reach the bottom and he turns to look at you.

“Hey, you’re awake,” he calls, smiling at you. “I went to take some blood and you passed out.”

You look at him, confused, as you make it to the bottom.

“I’ve never seen you drop so fast. Have you been eating properly?” he asks as he comes over to you. You try to remember the last meal you had.

“Pork something,” you say, rubbing the back of your neck.

“The canteen hasn't had the nicest food lately,” he says smiling. You look up at him. He was taking your blood and you passed out. He's looking at you with a concerned look on his face.

“Are you sure you’re feeling okay? You can lay down for a few more minutes if you want?”

You shake your head. You need to get back to the barracks before anyone notices you’re gone.

“Take it easy,” he calls after you as you leave the lab. Your hand drops from your neck as you see the sun rising over the top of the trees. You take in a deep breath, and the cool morning air fills your lungs. You can smell the pine, the wet ground. Your head feels fuzzy.

What the hell happened?

Dr. Piper wakes you up by shaking your shoulder. She's smiling at you as you blink awake.

“It’s almost noon, thought you might want to eat.”

You nod, swinging your legs out the bed.

“What’s that?” you ask, looking at a pile of something on your desk. Dr. Piper looks around.

“Simon got you some books. He and John managed to pull some strings so you would have something to do while they’re away.”

“While they’re away?” you ask standing up.

“Yes, I’ll let John explain,” she says, leading you out of the room. You make it into the common room. John is sitting at the table but you can’t see anyone else.

“‘Afternoon,” he says, smiling as you sit next to him at the table.

“Tea?” Dr. Piper asks. You shake your head, and John already has a mug in his hands. You both look up at her and she seems to take that as her cue to leave. John puts his hand on your thigh under the table as he waits until the door closes and he’s sure the doctor is gone before talking.

“We have to go away. For a mission. It shouldn’t take us long, a few days at the most,” he says. You look up at him.

“What are you doing?” you ask.

“Nothing you need to worry about,” he says

“You’re a soldier,” you say, swallowing away the lump in your throat.

“Yeah, but it’s better if you don’t know.”

“I don’t want you to get hurt.” You feel sick again. The thought of John or anyone in your pack getting hurt makes a knot form in your stomach. You want John to say something. You want him to tell you it’s all going to be okay. He doesn’t say anything though, and it feels like the seconds are dragging on.

“We may be soldiers but we’re special forces. Counter-terrorism. We stop the worst of the worst people,” he says. You look up at him waiting for him to continue. You remember what Dr. Miller said that one time: ‘They will kill for you, they have killed for you.’

“You kill the bad guys,” you say, forcing a smile.

“Exactly, you don’t need to worry. We’re experts,” he says.

“How long will you be gone for?”

“A few days. 2 at the most.”

“Let me guess, you can’t tell me where,” you say, smiling, trying to lighten the mood. You want him to know you’re okay with this. It’s just a part of their life you need to accept.

“California. That’s all I can tell you,” he says, and you smile. You get the feeling he wasn’t supposed to tell you even that. Who would you tell though, Dr. Piper? She probably already knows. Dr. Miller? What’s he going to do?

“Bring me a souvenir?” You smile at him, trying to keep the mood light. He smiles.

“Thank you for the books,” you say. He squeezes your thigh.

“It was Simon who suggested it actually, made the boys take a trip to a charity shop. I’m sorry if you’ve read some of them already.

“It’s fine honestly, thank you.” You’re grateful for something to do other than watching TV.

“When we come back would you be interested in helping with some more training?” he asks. You nod. You like being helpful, especially if you can help them. His hand leaves your leg, and he gets up.

“Lunch?” he asks. You nod, following him out.

Ghost walks towards the top of the hill backing up on the house they were due to raid. Soap was by his side. Price and Gaz were on the other side of the building with SWAT.

“Hill’s a pain in the ass,” Soap pants as they make it to the overview point.

“You need to workout more,” Ghost sighs, getting into position laying down and setting up his sniper. Soap lays next to him pulling out some binoculars.

“Nice house, could you imagine something like that LT?”

Ghost sighs looking down at the massive house with the immaculately mowed garden. There’s a pool and gazebo. Why have a pool when you live less than a kilometer from the beach.

“Bravo-2 in position,” Ghost says over the radio, ignoring Soap’s comments.

“A mansion with a pool, a nice big lawn, surrounded by greenery,” Soap says. The light is low in the sky. It’s still early morning. The best time to catch this guy.

“Get in position, Soap,” he says without looking over at him. He hears Soap sigh shuffling down the hill to drop behind the wall surrounding the garden. Ghost’s watching the house for signs of life. His job is to watch their backs to make sure there are no surprises.

“Bravo-1 in position. Any movement?” Price’s voice comes in Ghost’s ear. He looks through his scope checking the windows again.

“Negative,” he responds as he sees Soap jump the wall.

“Remember boys, as soon as the place is clear we’ll send in the locals,” Laswell’s voice states over the comms. They didn’t need to be here for this. Ghost and Price knew that. This could have easily been done by the local constabulary. Or even Shadow Company. Shepherd is doing this on purpose to get them off the base.

It felt wrong leaving the omega alone with the threat of Professor Hale hanging over them. Price had spoken with Dr. Montgomery though. She wasn’t a soldier but she was willing to protect the omega with her life and that’s all they needed. The sound of dogs barking pulls Ghost’s attention to the backdoor.

“Shite, no one said anything about a dog,” Soap says, moving away from the back door. There are lights coming on in the house now.

“Got movement, upstairs,” Ghost relays. Shit, they’ve been caught.

“Watcher, call in the troops we’re going in hot,” Price says as Ghost starts to put his rifle away. “Ghost, Soap, take the back door.”

Ghost’s not even paying attention as he puts the rifle down, sliding down the hill and jumping the wall to meet with Soap. The dogs are barking again as downstairs lights are being turned on.

“Bravo-2, we’ve got movement here.”

“Remember, there are civilians inside with the mark,” Price says.

“The mark is a male, 40, is to be considered armed and dangerous,” Laswell says.

“Copy,” Ghost replies as he stacks up on the door with Soap. Price starts a countdown as Ghost can hear the man inside trying to wrangle the dogs. The countdown stops and on zero Soap kicks the door in.

Everything happens fast: there’s shouting, banging, voices of people from different parts of the house. Soap has a man in the kitchen on his stomach, hands behind his back in zipties. As Ghost makes it through the massive kitchen and dining room to a door, he spies Price and the rest of the officers fanning out. Soap comes up beside him.

“Where do you reckon the dogs are?” he asks as Ghost scans the adjoining room.

“Garage by the sound of it,” he replies. That's good that they’re out of the way for now.

“We’ve got one civilian in the kitchen,” Soap relays over the radio. There's a steady stream of information coming through the radio now. Price and Gaz finish securing the ground floor before meeting with Ghost and Soap in the living room. Police and SWAT were moving around the house securing the civilians. No sign of their main man though.

“LT wanna clear the garage?” Soap shouts. Ghost turns to nod at him. He walks back through the kitchen and SWAT are talking to the man Soap tied up earlier. Ghost gets a good look at him as he passes, following Soap to a door. Definitely not the mark, too young, not tall enough.

Soap stacks up on one side of the door while Ghost takes the other, moving his weapon to fit more comfortably in his hands.

“I hate shooting dogs,” Soap says.

“Don’t. I'll do it then,” Ghost says.

“You’re a cold bastard sometimes you know,” Soap says, tipping his head. Ghost rolls his eyes pressing down on the door handle as he pushes it open. He scans with his weapon and there are 2 cars in the massive garage. He walks in with Soap behind him, there very well could be someone in here.

They still haven't found the mark and there are no signs of the dogs. Ghost and Soap split, with Ghost walking behind the cars and Soap walking in front of them. They walk in sync, slow as they scan each corner.

It’s when they’re standing between the cars that someone springs out. Ghost doesn’t have much time to determine if it’s a threat or not. He sees the weapon in his hands. Soap is shouting at him over the hood of the car. Shots ring out, and the man drops.

“Contact, garage,” Ghost shouts as he hears people rushing in. He looks over at Soap. He can smell the blood in the air, he can smell pain.

“Johnny!” Simon calls for his attention as they walk round to check the body. Ghost watches him looking for where Soap is injured. There’s the body of the man, blood pooling from his head.

“Watcher, target eliminated,” Ghost says as he watches Soap lower his weapon, his hand pressing on his shoulder. Now he can see the blood.

“Good job boys, sending exfil, we’ll leave the clean up to the locals,” Laswell says in his ear.

“Ghost what’s the sitrep?” Price asks.

“Mark down, Soap’s hit,” Ghost says, letting his weapon swing down going over to him.

“I’m good LT, it’s just a scratch.”

“Yeah, I’ll be the judge of that,” Ghost says, half dragging him out of the garage and back into the building. He pushes him down on the first available seat. Soap is still protesting when Gaz comes round the corner.

“What’d ya do Soap?” he asks as Ghost pulls his sleeve up. He’s been shot through the shoulder.

“How do you feel?” Ghost asks.

“I’m fine LT, don’t need you fussing,” Soap says as he looks up at Ghost. A shoulder shot could take him out the field for weeks. Ghost starts pressing bandages into the wound as Soap winces.

“Holy shit,” Gaz says looking at the back of his shoulder where the exit wound should be. “It was through and through right?” Gaz looks up at Ghost who looks confused, he moves to see what Gaz is looking at. It’s definitely through and through but the bleeding has stopped. The exit wounds indicate the bullet shattered but the smaller wounds are healing up before their very eyes. Ghost takes the bandage off the entrance wound. It’s stopped bleeding already.

“What is it?” Soap asks, trying to look, but Ghost grabs his arms, keeping him in place.

“It’s healing already,” Gaz says.

“How do you feel?” Ghost asks him. Soap stands up moving his shoulder.

“Fine, we’re super soldiers, remember,” Soap says playfully, nudging Ghost. Price walks round the corner taking the scene in for a second.

“You solid?” he asks Soap who nods at him. “Gaz, Soap go help SWAT out front. Try not to piss them off before exfil gets here.” He sighs watching Soap pull the skin around his wound.

“Don’t play with it, it’ll get infected,” Gaz says, swatting his hand away and placing a bandage over it.

“We’re fucking super soldiers mate, a little infection isn’t going to slow me,” Soap says. Ghost shakes his head. He must still have adrenaline running through his system. Price looks up at Ghost moving so Gaz and Soap can leave. Price nods him back to the garage which has been opened out to the garden now. He can see officers and SWAT doing their thing, a tent has been set up with a table and a laptop. Vans are being driven into the driveway.

Price walks down the steps to look over at the body while Ghost follows him, but something catches his eyes and before he reaches Price, he picks up a piece of paper. His stomach sinks. Now that Soap is not in the room, he can smell the familiar smell of blood and death. There’s something else there too. Beta.

“Look at this,” Ghost says, taking a step and handing the paper to Price. He reads the same thing Ghost read a few seconds earlier.

“Omega initiative. Shit.” He looks back at the body, they both do. Ghost killed him. He had a weapon in his hand, and he shot Soap.

“Whoever doesn’t go back to work for Hale has a death sentence,” Ghost says as a matter of fact putting the pieces together.

“Not necessarily, our orders were to take him alive,” Price corrects him. “Back to Graves.”

“Back to Hale,” Ghost says. Price sighs, turning to him he folds the paper up putting it in one of his vest pockets.

“Seems like Hale’s doing a bit of a recruitment drive.”

“What are you reading?” Dr. Miller asks as you sit on the stool reading the last few pages of the chapter.

“Moby-Dick.” You show him the cover, smiling.

“Here, smell this one,” he says, pressing a q-tip under your nose. You wince at the strong smell.

“Smells like chemicals,” you say, turning the page. He sighs writing something down.

“Try this one,” he says with a new q-tip and a new smell. You breathe it in. It’s not as strong.

“Smells like beta,” you say. He sighs again and writes something else down.

“Stronger or weaker than the last one?”

“Weaker,” you say, unsure.

“How’s it going?” you ask. He seems frustrated about something.

“The scents are either too strong or not strong enough to mask anything.” You watch as he dips a clean q-tip in another clear liquid. He sniffs it then holds it under your nose.

“Smells sweet, like apple pie,” you say. It’s the smell of your mother. Or at least the smell you used to think was what your mother smelt like. You put the book down, marking your page. It makes you sad. Your head is starting to spin after smelling so many different things.

“Smells like sadness.” You sigh.

“I’m sure your pack will be back soon. It’s been 2 days,” he says. You nod, standing up. You don’t want to do this anymore.

“One more, come on,” he says, reaching out and lightly pulling your arm. You sigh, turning back to him, letting him push the q-tip under your nose. You breathe it in.

“Alpha,” you say. He nods, smiling.

“You should get some rest. You did good today,” he says. You nod, gripping the book and heading back to the barracks. You hate being in the barracks when your pack’s not around. It just feels empty. You walk in to see Dr. Piper making coffee. Almost as soon as they had left, she had moved a coffee machine in.

“Hey, where have you been so early?” she asks, stirring a cup of something.

“Dr. Miller needed my help for the scent blocker.” She looks confused for a second as she sits at the table.

“Do you help him a lot?” she asks. You shrug. You’re tired now.

“Not really, I just wish it wasn’t so early,” you say, sitting down opposite her.

“I’ll have a word with him. You should get a good night's rest,” she says, sipping on her coffee. “How have you been sleeping? Have the nightmares been getting better?”

You nod. They haven’t been as bad. It feels like everything gets worse when your pack’s not around though. You miss them.

“When do you think they’ll be back?” you ask.

“Well, actually Kate told me they should be back tonight. I didn't want to tell you because they still might get held up,” she says. You look up at her smiling. It makes you feel warm thinking about the fact they could be back tonight.

You’re too excited to take a nap now. You smile at her, almost skipping down to your room. You look at the sun rising over the trees, the pile of books and the scent of nature in the air makes you happy. Happier than you’ve been in years.

You curl up in your nest, feeling the warm bubble inside you get stronger. You end up in your nest with a stack of books. You manage to make it through Moby-Dick before you start feeling sleepy. Your mind wanders to your pack wondering what they’re doing as you find yourself dozing off a few pages into your next book.

You’re back in the lab. You’re laying in a bed. It’s a hospital bed. You can’t smell anything in the air, but you know where you are. You’re back in the bunker, the horrible dark place. The door opens and you expect the Professor to walk in. Instead it’s Dr. Miller. You don’t relax though.

“What are you doing here?” you ask as you try to move but you can't. You're tied down. He doesn’t say anything, going over to a table and picking something up. You try to move and as you can’t, panic rises in you. You feel sick as you see him turn round. He’s holding a scalpel in his hand. The door opens again and it is Graves, the man who went into your personal space, who ordered your nest destroyed. You stare at him wide eyes, confused as you look back over at Dr. Miller.

“What’s happening?” you ask, panic rising in your voice as you try to move but you can’t. You’re pinned down too tightly.

“It didn't have to be like this,” Dr. Miller says, pulling a surgical mask over his face.

“No, please,” you plead as he nods at Graves whose hands land on your face, pulling your head to the side uncomfortably. The back of your neck is exposed as you can feel Dr. Miller touch your mark. You plead for him to stop, but he doesn’t say anything. You scream as his scalpel makes contact with your skin. Everything goes blurry as tears stream down your face. You’re fighting with Graves’ grip as best as you can, trying to move your head. There’s more pain now, another cut and everything goes black.

You wake screaming. Your hand flies to the back of your neck. You can feel your mark, the indents John’s teeth left. You’re shaking, panting, it feels like you can’t breathe, your nails digging into your hand. You hear commotion as your door is flung open. Dr. Piper is there. She rushes over, her cool hands finding your face forcing you to look at her as you rub the back of your neck.

“You’re okay, it’s just a dream,” she says. You’re not listening to her. You smell alpha in the air, and looking behind her you can see Johnny in the doorway. They’re back. You look down at Dr. Piper, trying to take deep breaths but it just comes out as sobs.

She pulls you into her arms as you let your hand drop from the back of your neck. You close your eyes breathing in her calming scent. She’s shushing you, rubbing your back. You open your eyes, blinking the tears away looking over at the doorway. John is there now, standing in the doorway outside the threshold of your space.

“John,” you breathe. Dr. Piper lets you go as John steps into the room. She turns to look and gets up.

“Hey,” he says, kneeling down by you. Your nest is a mess. You must have been thrashing around in your sleep. You don’t wait, throwing yourself in his arms almost knocking him over. You see Dr. Piper leave, pulling the door closed and shooing the others away. You need this time now with your alpha. You close your eyes breathing in his scent, letting it fill your lungs. He’s back and he’s safe.

“I’ve missed you,” you say, gripping him tighter like this is a dream too and he’s going to vanish at any second.

“We’ve only been gone 2 days, not even 48 hours.” You can hear the smile in his voice as his hands run over you. You break away from the hug.

“What was the dream about?” he asks.

“The bunker, Graves was there,” the memory is fading. There was someone else too, but you can’t remember who. The Professor, probably.

“You’re never going back there. We destroyed it, remember,” he says, smiling at you. You nod. You know the place is gone. It’s not gone in your mind though.

“Want to lie down in my bed?” he asks, and you nod. You do, you want to be near him. You support yourself on him as he helps you off the floor. He holds his hand out and you take it letting him wrap his arm around you.

“You know Graves is never going to be coming in here again. You’re safe here,” he says. You can see in the common room. Johnny and Kyle poke their heads round the corner and you smile at them. John presses you into his room, and the place is messier than you’ve ever seen it. A bag half unpacked is in the middle of the room, and there’s an open laptop and weapons on the desk. They make your breath catch in your throat. You walk over and sit on the bed.

“Did you kill anyone?” you ask as he pulls your chin up to look at him. He shakes his head. You can smell the lie in the air.

“You don’t have to lie,” you say, swallowing. He looks at you like he’s deciding what to do, letting out a sigh and coming to sit next to you on the bed.

“You told me you wouldn’t worry,” he says.

“I didn’t worry. I just missed you,” you say as he strokes your thigh.

“Lay down,” he instructs. You follow his instructions, laying on the side of the bed pressed up against the wall. He lays next to you and you turn your body to the side so you can look at him.

“So, we have this mission. One guy, suspected to be smuggling and selling large quantities of pharmaceuticals to private buyers. We work with the local police and SWAT but Commander Graves wants him brought in alive. Unfortunately, he managed to get a weapon and took a shot at John-”

“Johnny got shot?” you gasp, propping yourself up in the bad. You feel a wave of nausea wash over you. Someone in your pack got hurt.

“He’s fine,” John says, his hand resting on your shoulder pushing you back down on the bed. Your eyes dart to the door. You saw him in your room, and he did look fine. Maybe he is fine. Your heart still aches for him though, the image of him being injured is swimming around in your head.

“John’s fine but Simon shot the guy and unfortunately he died. The police secured the house and found the evidence they needed to arrest the other members of the family then we came back,” he finishes explaining. You swallow hard. You knew they were doing horrible things, they’re soldiers.

“Does that happen a lot? Getting shot?” you ask scooting closer to him.

“No, we don’t make a habit out of it.” He smiles, his fingers coming to brush hair out of your face. You close your eyes relaxing into the pillow.

“Dr. Montgomery told me you’ve been helping Dr. Miller?” You nod. “You should get some rest. I’ll wake you up for dinner?” he asks, you nod again. You still feel tired, all the scenting this morning must have really taken it out of you. He leans over and kisses you on the forehead as you get under the covers. He gets up, takes his laptop and leaves the room. You smile rolling over to his side of the bed. His pillows have his scent. You relax, breathing it in, closing your eyes. They’re back and they’re safe. It’s not getting easier though, each time they go away.

You wake to shouting. John isn’t in the bed, and something is going on in the common room. Your body feels stiff, and you can already tell you’ve been asleep for way more than a few hours.

“Fuck off!” That’s Johnny, you can hear his accent cutting thick through the air.

“Shepherd wanted me to deliver the message personally.” It’s Graves. You swallow, opening the door to the hall. You can see John and Simon standing there both with their arms crossed. Johnny is the one who looks back and sees you. He walks up stopping in front of you. You try to look around him, his hand lands on your shoulder.

“What's going on?” you ask.

“‘Hey sleepyhead, how ‘bout you go back to bed for a bit,” he says smiling at you. You can see it’s getting dark out. You must have slept for a good few hours.

“Is that her?” you hear Graves call. You freeze, reaching out and gripping Johnny’s arm. John said he would never be back.

“Time to go Graves. Don’t you have a base to take care of?” John says.

“You have until the morning,” he says. You swallow hard looking up at Johnny. You can smell him projecting a calming scent. You wonder if he and Kyle have had time to practice. Or maybe they are just naturals. You hear a door close and let go of Johnny’s arm. He smiles, putting his arm around your shoulders, and you stop, nudging it off.

“You were shot Johnny,” you say. He smiles, putting it back round you and continuing to walk you into the common room.

“Super soldier remember, thanks to that drug of yours.” Simon is still standing with his arms crossed watching Graves walk across the green back towards the main building. John is sitting down at the table with Kyle sipping tea.

“Sorry we woke you,” Kyle says looking at you sympathetically. You look at John. He looks tired. You feel sad all of a sudden, like you want to reach out and hug him. He looks up at you and meets your eye-line for a second. A shiver runs down your spine.

“Did you get into trouble?” you ask

“No,” it’s Simon’s voice that speaks up. So harsh in the air you almost jump. John pushes his chair out getting up with his cup of tea. You feel bad, like you’ve done something wrong. You watch as he disappears into his office without saying a word.

“Sit down, lass,” Johnny says, placing a cup of tea down in front of you. For someone who doesn't drink it, Johnny somehow manages to make the best tea. You nod, sitting down. Simon finally moves. He walks behind you knocking on John’s office. He doesn’t wait for a response though before going in.

“What did Graves want?” you ask. Johnny and Kyle look at each other then back at you.

“‘Nothing you need to worry about,” Johnny smiles. You try to ignore the yearning to know more. You wish they wouldn’t be so secretive. You wish they would tell you what they were doing. No, you don’t deserve that information , you remind yourself. You’re not a soldier, just an omega . It only feels like it’s been a few seconds of awkward silence before John and Simon walk back out into the common room. You sip your tea as John sits at the table opposite you.

“Professor Hale has requested to have contact with you.” You freeze at his words. The tea suddenly tastes horrible in your mouth. You want to spit it out instead you swallow it down letting it burn your throat.

“You can say no, but he wants you to know the option is there.” It feels like John is looking into your soul, his eyes harsh as he tries to read your reaction. The Professor has always been such a constant in your life. You think back to what Dr. Miller said. Maybe he did love you? Maybe this was his way of saying sorry? Or maybe he’ll let you stay with your pack, watch you from a distance, and then spring when you least expect it. It makes you feel sick.

“I—” You start but the words catch in your throat. What if this was a test, some weird fucked up experiment. You look up at John. Simon is standing behind him with his arms crossed. You trust them, there’s no way this is a test. Does Dr. Piper know? What would she say? She worked with him for years. Maybe she would like to communicate with him again. You close your eyes, sighing.

“I don’t want to see him,” you say, looking down at your tea, gripping it harder like you’re about to be told you don’t have a choice. You feel guilty. It doesn’t feel real. It’s like it’s the end of a massive part of your life. If you never see him again, will you ever forgive yourself? A hand rests on the top of your back, and you look up seeing Kyle smile down at you. You look over at John. He’s watching you, and you can’t tell if he looks disappointed or not. Simon’s still standing behind him with his arms crossed. You can never tell what he’s thinking.

“If you ever change your mind.”

You shake your head.

“He’s been the only other constant in my life. He did love me. I feel like I should give him the benefit of the doubt.” You look back down.

“You don’t owe him anything,” John says. You don’t know if you believe him or not. The last time you saw the Professor, he was breaking your ankle for trying to leave. Kyle's hand runs across your back.

“He tortured you. You spent your whole life being hurt. He doesn’t deserve the right to even ask. You never have to see him again. You shouldn’t see him again,” Simon says, his voice is sharp in the air. You look up at him. You’ve come to learn that Simon’s not the most talkative person but he means everything he says.

“He’s right,” Kyle says. “You have no reason to talk to him.”

You look down at your mug. You feel the tears coming, your eyes welling up as you try to stop them, squeezing your eyes shut. You have to be strong, you don’t get to cry for him. Simon’s right and Kyle is right. You never have to see him again. When you open your eyes everything is blurry. You swallow the lump in your throat away.

You don’t know what happens but the next thing you know Kyle’s hand has left your back and everyone is walking out of the building. John stays seated. You bring your sleeve up to wipe your eyes. You try to hide it but you’re not doing the best job. John waits until the building is empty before getting up and sitting in the seat next to you. He turns your chair to face him slightly. You let go of your cup, as you turn to look at him. His hand comes up to your chin pulling your face up to look at him. He leans down and kisses your forehead.

“Simon’s right, Professor Hale doesn’t deserve the right to even ask you. If it was up to me, I wouldn’t even be asking,” he says, his thumb stroking your cheek. He brushes one of your tears away.

“I feel guilty,” you admit. You want to look down but John’s hand on your face won’t let you. John nods.

“You don’t have anything to feel guilty about.” His thumb brushes your cheek. You nod. He stands up, offering you his hand. You take it and he leads you to the sofa. You sit down and you sit next to him. He spreads his arm over the back of the sofa and you smile at him as you lean up against him. He reaches over to pick up the remote.

“More of the screaming women?” he asks, flicking through the channel as smile.

“You pick,” you say, snuggling up against him more.

“John?” He hums rubbing your arm. “Are you going to kill the Professor?” There’s silence. You don’t know why you were expecting a quick answer. You don’t know if you’re going to like the answer.

“I would kill him. If I had to.” You look up at him. He smiles at you.

“Do you ever regret it? Killing anyone?”

“From time to time, sometimes people get mixed up in all sorts of things.”

“How do you do it?”

“The good outweighs the bad.” He squeezes you tighter. “You don’t need to worry about that kind of stuff.” You sigh, stretching your arm across his stomach. You let yourself relax. You don’t know how you would feel if the Professor was to die. Maybe you would feel relief, or maybe you would feel even more guilty.

John starts talking about what’s happening on the TV but you’re only half paying attention, your mind preoccupied with the Professor. It doesn’t feel like you’ve been laid there for very long when the door to the building opens. John turns and you sit up to see who’s walked in.

“Johnny’s shoulder’s playing up. Si’s taken him to see the doc,” Kyle says as he sticks his head in the door.

“Dr. Piper?” you ask as you sit up, a lump forming in your stomach. John said he was fine. Kyle nods and John gets up off the sofa. You follow him as he walks out of the building. All of you take a quick walk across the green to the lab. When you get in, a few scientists look over at you all. You see Dr. Miller who smiles at you.

“She’s upstairs if you’re looking for her,” he says. John thanks him and you make your way up to the medical room. When you walk in, Simon is leaned up against the wall on the far side of the room, his arms crossed. Johnny is sat on the edge of the bed with his shirt off. Dr. Piper’s taking the bandage off his shoulder. You feel blood rush to your cheeks as you see him topless. He’s fitter than John is, and hairier too which you didn’t expect. He winks as you and you look away trying not to feel embarrassed.

“It’s healed fine. You say it’s still painful?” she asks, pressing down on and around where the scar is.

“It healed that quickly?” John asks, shocked crossing his arms as he leans in to look.

“Yeah, one of the wonders of the drug,” she says, smiling. “If it still hurts tomorrow we’ll do an x-ray but it’s most likely your bones just taking a little longer to heal. I’ll get you a sling.” She heads through the door in the room. You peek your head in seeing a bed and some storage.

“Physical wounds and broken bones will repair themselves relatively quickly, most of the time within 24-48 hours, as long as you’re in good health. Blood is a big factor too. Lose too much of it and you will not be able to repair yourself,” Dr. Piper says as she hands Johnny his shirt back. He pulls it on.

“What about getting sick?” Kyle asks.

“You have a stronger immune system but you can still get sick, also of course the healthier you are the better it works,” Dr. Piper says.

“Okay so we don’t have to worry about getting shot in the field,” Johnny chuckles.

“Well if you get shot in the head or the heart, you’ll still probably be dead. Trauma is still trauma,” Dr. Piper says, helping him secure the sling.

“I can show you,” you say looking round the room. They look at you confused for a few seconds. You walk over to a tray and pick up a scalpel.

“Woah, wait!” They all start to protest as you bring the blade to your lower arm.

“It’s okay, the Professor used to make me do it all the time,” you say, shrugging.

“Stop!” John’s voice is harsh in the air as you look at him waiting for what he will say next. “You don’t have to hurt yourself to show us.” You look up at Dr. Piper who shrugs. You move putting the scalpel back down. You feel the collective sigh in the room as you look around them.

“Okay, so we still need to continue to treat injuries seriously,” John says to everyone. Johnny jumps down off the bed.

“If you want I can look into maybe making something that can speed up the wound healing process? Professor Hale was pretty close to a breakthrough before you rescued the omega,” Dr. Piper says as she walks around everyone, opening the door to back out to the lab.

“Sure, if you think you can,” John says as everyone piles out. You smile at Dr. Piper as you pass her.

“You should all get some food before the mess closes,” John says, stopping at the top of the steps.

“What about you?” you ask him. Now that you think of it, when does he ever get time to eat? You’ve only seen him eat a few times.

“I’ll catch up, just have to have a word with Dr. Montgomery first,” he says, placing his hand on the small of your back and gently pressing you to the steps. You sigh following Kyle down the steps. The lab is empty. Most of the scientists will have gone for breaks since it is almost midday. Kyle waits for you, holding the door open as you all exit.

“So did Professor Hale make you hurt yourself a lot?” he asks as you walk next to Kyle across the grass.

“It’s the best way to prove to people it works. He would have people come and I got to show off for them.”

“What do you mean?” he asks.

“Well like, he would have these people called ‘investors’ I think, and I would get to dress nice and get out of my room for the day. He would show them around the lab and they would meet all the scientists, and then they would meet me. I would show them the ‘miracles’ of the formula,” you explain as you make it to the mess.

“Do you remember any of them?” It’s Simon ahead of you who asks the question. You shake your head.

“They were always men, always in such nice clothes. I never knew their names. He would always just call them ‘investor,’” you say, picking up a tray. Simon hums and you follow him and Johnny piling your plate with food and two pudding cups.

“Dr. Piper might know,” you say. Simon nods. You want to be helpful, but a lot of the time when it comes to what happened in the bunker, it can get blurry. You’re never quite sure where the real memories start. Besides, thinking about them upsets you. It’s enough that you have nightmares, you don’t need to worry about it during the day too. You follow Kyle to a table sitting down in front of Simon. You’re so caught up in your thoughts you don’t even realise Simon has pulled the bottom of his mask up.

You think back to a few days ago when you saw the top of his head and his blonde hair. You’re trying to piece the two together to imagine what his whole face might look like. You’re staring at him, gawking at him as he chews on his food. His head tips to the side as he looks at you, and you watch him swallow as his fork comes back up to his mouth.

“It’s rude to stare,” he says. You immediately feel heat come to your cheeks, looking back down at your tray. Your hands fiddle with the lid on your pudding cup as you let the wave of embarrassment wash over you.

“Be nice LT,” Johnny hisses under his breath, nudging him. You feel like you’ve invaded his privacy. Maybe you should apologize. You look back up at him as you pick up your spoon. You don’t know what to say, so you just spoon some pudding in your mouth. As soon as it hits your tongue it tastes bitter. You almost want to spit it out but you swallow it, frowning as you look at the cup.

“Not good?” Johnny asks. You look at the flavor, butterscotch. You don’t think you’ve ever tried that one before.

“I don’t think I like butterscotch,” you say, putting your spoon down. Johnny reaches over picking up the unopened one.

“That’s not possible.” Johnny smiles at you. You smile back picking up your fork. Guess it serves you right for skipping straight to dessert. You eat your food listening to Johnny and Kyle talk, but you can’t help your eyes wondering to Simon every now and then. You really want to see him smile. You wish you could see him without the mask. Maybe you will, if he’s getting more comfortable around you. At one point he turns and your eyes meet his, you smile at him but instead he ignores you, turning back to listen into the conversation between Johnny and Kyle.

You spend most of the meal just pushing food around the plate. You’re distracted by something you can’t quite put your finger on. You’re not hungry, just tired. You want to crawl into your nest with a book and sleep. You’ve been sleeping in there more than in your bed. It’s not comfortable sleeping on the floor but you feel like that you have less nightmares when you’re safe in your nest compared to in your bed.

You excuse yourself from the table, ignoring Kyle’s comments that you’ve hardly eaten anything. When you make it outside, the dark clouds make the air feel electric. Maybe there’s a storm coming. You can hear the distant rumbles as you make your way across the green to the barracks. The lights are off. John must not be back yet. You turn the one in the common room on then walk to your room.

Your nest is still a mess from earlier. You pull the duvet and pillows off your bed and bend down fixing it. You stack all the pillows back up, laying blankets over them as you arrange everything around. You keep going till it feels right again. You go over to the books on the table. You don’t know what you want to read. You pick up ‘ The Secret Garden’ if not just for the pretty cover. You take it over to your nest climbing in and leaning up against the wall.

You hear Johnny, Kyle and Simon coming back from the mess a few pages into the book. You hear their voices in the common room, the sound of doors opening and closing. You smile, letting yourself relax, and you read until you fall asleep.

When John makes it back to the barracks Johnny and Kyle are laid out on the sofa. Simon is sat at the table with a mug in his hand. John stands in the doorway as everyone turns to look at him. Simon meets his eye line, John tips his head gesturing outside.

‘Follow me.’

Simon gets up immediately leaving the table as John steps back outside. He walks away from the building to the wall round the edge of the base. He waits a few seconds before speaking.

“The labs have been bugged,” John says.

“Think it’s Graves?” Simon asks. John sighs.

“Don’t know, she only found it yesterday.”

“Mic? Camera?”

“Microphone,” he replies.

“Think there's more?” Simon asks.

“Think so, why only plant one.”

“What do you want to do?”

“If it is Graves, I don’t want him to know we’re on to him. It could be something else though.” John sighs scratching his chin.

“Who? Shepherd?”

“I don’t know. If the lab is bugged though there’s a chance the barracks are too.”

“Want to search it?”

“I want to do it without raising suspicion, from Graves, Shepherd, anyone.”

“What about Soap and Gaz?” Simon asks as they make it back towards the barracks.

“No, let's keep it between us, until we have proof or know who’s doing it. Dr. Montgomery is going to keep an eye out. She’ll let me know if she finds anything,” John says, stopping at the door to the barracks. Kyle and Johnny are still sitting on the sofa as they both walk in.

“Hey LT, Kyle found the football!” Johnny says enthusiastically.

“Manchester United, that's the good one right?” Johnny smiles. Simon sighs going back over to the table to get his cup of tea.

“Just keep it down,” John says, going to his office.

“It’s the first match of the league Cap, wanna watch?” Kyle calls. He does but he shakes his head, he has work to do. He watches Simon take his tea over to the sofa chair. He looks down the hall seeing your bedroom door closed, and he takes in a long breath. He can smell you in the air, strawberries. He smiles and walks into his office.

next Dividers by Plum98 & gild-ui Beta reader and editor - rememberwren

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alaynestone · 3 months ago

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FIC RECS for @spnficrecfest - august 16-18 casefics

i'm attempting to limit myself to just one small sample of the fics that could be recced in every category so that my list is more easily digestible. it's a given that many good fics will be left out but if we keep this up they will have their turn later.

a few of my favorite casefics

torch song by art_savage (gen, season 2) Children are disappearing in Durango, Colorado. Dean starts to take the case a bit too personally.

in reverse by sodakey (gen, season 1) After Faith, a job has the boys looking for missing hikers in Wyoming. While Sam worries it’s connected to what happened to Dean ten years ago, Dean wonders if Sam would be better off back in the world of normal.

red by big_pink (gen, season 1) Something evil is killing treeplanters in the forests of the Pacific Northwest, possibly the same predator that Dean narrowly escaped years before. How Grimm will things get before the brothers figure it out?

beatty, 1988 by kalliel (gen, preseries) There are hunts that go down smooth, just enough kick, relished and savored. Others are just a date and a name.

love like salt by kalliel (gen, preseries) The Winchesters revisit a ghostly snag in one of John's old cases. Meanwhile, Sam scrambles to mend their broken pieces, even as his world unravels around him. Dean just unravels.

flowers on a razor wire by jaimeykay (gen, preseries) The Winchesters find themselves grounded for several months when John is injured on a hunt, but no matter if they stay or go, a case always seems to find them in the end: a demon is threatening the town's children. 16-year-old Dean joins forces with a local hunter, whose belief in teaching Dean how to be the perfect hunter runs up against Sam's distrust and suspicion.

lovetown by nigeltde (sam/dean, season 2) Spill your guts.

no birds today by whereupon (sam/dean, season 3) Something's killing women in a small Nebraska town, Sam has boundary issues, and Dean's just trying to make peace.

from coast to coast by paxlux (sam/dean, season 1) They've seen some unbelievable things.

cupid's got a gun by geckoholic (sam/dean, season 4) Ever since hell, Dean's in no hurry to get that show on the road again. They've tried, and it doesn't work, too many bad memories from what's been done to him downstairs. A case that involves a cursed cross and a vengeful witch takes that choice away from them.

the old gods return by fleshflutter (sam/dean, season 3) The envelope is waiting for them behind the desk of the motel when they try to check out. It's made of a thick, coarse brown paper and Sam can't stop touching the flowing script in black ink that's the only marking on it: Mr. Samuel Winchester.

#spnficrecfest #supernatural #fic recs #wincest #*#ao3 links where they're available even if the fics were originally posted elsewhere #lj and even ffnet links for the rest

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dutiful-wildcraft · 10 months ago

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Pack 141 - Fae!Soap Headcanons

Tags: monster au, Fae!Soap, poly 141, sfw, fluff, general lore, Soap's mom? for a minute at least, fae lore I roughly researched.

-Soap's mother was a stubborn and superstitious woman. When her baby boy was born with a caul over his face, her heart seized with dread. She had been told stories, how it was lucky to have a child able to see beyond the veil. How the caul signified a great power, coveted by the people of the forest. Her only babe, marked as Fae.

-They would come for her child, steal him in the night and replace him with another. And it would be a cold day in hell before Jill Mactavish let anything touch her son.

-She slept with the bundle clutched tightly in her arms, refusing to sleep until she left the hospital. Left him wrapped snugly to her front as she hammered iron railroad spikes into the corners of her property; hung horseshoes above her doors, sprinkled fine lines of salt around every doorway and window of her home.

-She thought it had worked. At least for a while. But the Fae are persistent if nothing else. Jill began to notice strange flowers pop up around the foundation of her home, odd tapping rhythms heard in the night. Would she know? Would she know if the lamb in her arms was replaced with another?

-She was so exhausted, worn thin from paranoia. Yet Jill Mactavish was no quitter. Under the light of a pale full moon she marched to the edge of her property. Her blue eyed bundle cooing and gumming happily at his fingers as he wriggled against her chest. With a final look to the boy she faced the forest with a stern resolve, “You won't take him! But I'll share him! Leave us be or help me raise him right!”

-The winds rustled, branches creaking ominously. Leaves gathered and spun into a tornado of color in the chill autumn air. Jill would freeze in place as the leaves fell away, revealing an ethereally beautiful creature before her. All high cheekbones and sharp eyes surrounded by inky black sclera.

-Ordinarily the Fae would swap out changelings, snag the babe once it was the right size and replace it with one of their own. Considering the wee one was already Touched….perhaps a swap would be unnecessary. Human mother's were coveted. The milk of human kindness and all that, and the babe was truly beautiful, destined to be strong. The fae had looked Jill up and down with a calculating look. Yes. A deal could be struck. They would raise the baby together.

-And thus Soap spent his time in equal parts amongst the Fae and humans, learning to socialize with both, though he didn't completely fitting in with either. Soap was hell on wheels. Rambunctious and equally curious, constantly nosing or getting into things he ought not have. Not that he was ostracized by either group he was just..*odd.* Unable to find his footing or close friends.

-You could say that Soap has many siblings, though this term is used liberally. By human technicalities Soap is an only child (his mum's baby boy). His mother, through the nature of her bargain, was brought into the fold with young John. Helping to raise and nurse her own gaggle of fae children of differing bloods. Other children Soap would call family.

-Fae don't have strict family dynamics, it's certainly a community effort to rear little ones. Fae children can be produced in a myriad of ways, with no one way being seen above another, p in v? that works. Born from a flower? Sure why not. Throw some herbs and intent together until a wailing babe sounds from the cauldron? That works too.

-Soap naturally inquired about this, as any kid would. “Ma? Did I come from a flower?” “You came from my belly wee one” Soap had squinted at her, eyeing her belly incredulously, "but how?”

-It took several conversations to get the toddler to understand that the other children in his human primary school were not in fact his brothers and sisters.

-As humans are fascinated with the Fae, the Fae are equally as fascinated by humans. As John grew into a young man he would see the differences. The Fae courts had long fallen into a peaceful rhythm. The humans? Hardly. With a powerful knack for chaos, among other abilities. Soap threw himself into the army. Keen to help as many as he could, and perhaps even find his own way.

-Soap is a marked child. He is more resilient on average than most Fae, and shows no obvious limitations in what disciplines he can learn. However, as marked he does have particular dispositions toward the following.

-Tongues, the ability to speak any language at will. Sometimes without thinking about it. For Soap this isn't automatic, but after a few days of listening or studying he's fluent. (Albeit with the accent). This gives Soap a peculiar edge when working with varying communities, elements, and other critters/creatures.

-Glamour, a sophisticated illusion, these may allow for invisibility or changes to appearance for a brief time (upwards to an hour but possibly longer depending on the severity of the change). Living amongst the Fae made permanent changes to his body. The sclera of his eyes had shifted inky black. His teeth and nails razor sharp. There is an ethereal beauty to all Fae as well. Naturally Soap uses this ability to cover some of the obvious issues.

-Soap knows he's distracting. He's a proud thing, and rarely bothers shifting that. He's damn good at what he does and looks damn good doing it. Hshows off his muscles/skills/looks without shame.

-Shapeshifting, self explanatory, but only works proportionally give or take a few inches. He may take on the appearance of another person or creature, briefly. But once again, only appearance. Mimicking voices is another skill.

-Sight or Clairvoyance, this ability's range depends on the court or bloodline. In Soap's case, his visions will occasionally come to him in dreams, these being more sophisticated visions or events far in the future. These visions are generally more detailed. He is typically privy to smaller prophecies, glimpses of events happening minutes before him. These are typically vague, but have consistently been enough to save his and his teammates asses numerous times in the field. The Infamous Mactavish Intuition ;)

-Soap is one hell of an alchemist, and can make due with most natural items at his disposal. Poisons, potions, explosives, you name it, Soap can make it. He excelled remarkably in the maths and sciences in school, and it’s why he was also quickly assigned to demolitions so long ago.

-Soap has a very noticeable smell. One that isn't exclusively detected by other supernatural beings. Any human standing beside him would notice it. Lemon and shortbread, with a warm curl of rose. Clean, green and vaguely sweet. People wonder if his callsign was from this fact rather than his prowess on the field.

-Nudity has no taboo with the Fae. Raised as such, the man has literally no shame. Soap Mactavish has been naked since he was a child in the woods, and will continue to proudly do so. Does not understand why everyone else is so uptight about it. Will bust in on someone in the shower without a second thought. “Stop screamin’ it’s just me”

-Fae are very partial to music, and Soap is no exception. He is so easily captivated by the sound, swaying slightly, almost as if hypnotized. Soap isn’t as in tune with artists and genres as Gaz is, but he keeps a hoard of songs on his phone. Gaz is his main contributor, keeps him well fed with playlists he makes. Playing new records for Soap as they bop around the kitchen together, playfully dancing or headbanging together. Soap was once pretty proficient with piano and guitar at his mam’s encouragement. His singing however, nearly got him killed in basic.

-Many animals are the watchdogs of the Fae. Soap has been seen having conversations with himself, unknowing to onlookers that a little frog or squirrel was sitting beside him. Someone swears they saw a mouse crawl out of his tac vest once. He whistles with the birds, scoops up bugs and plops them back into the weeds. He unfortunately doesn’t know the language of the shower spider. He doesn't bother to learn, he thinks he prefers the silence in this instance.

-Soap can be attracted with a myriad of things just like any other fae. Music as mentioned above is one. He is also partial to pretty chimes and bells, running water, shiny and/or colorful displays, as well as anything sweet, candies or sweet creams/milks/liquors.

- Too much contact with iron on his bare skin will poison him. Fortunately most weaponry constructed now is made of more synthetic material. It can be noticed that Soap is very particular about his gloves, and is rarely seen without them on. Iron on properties or above doors won’t exactly stop him, but it is incredibly uncomfortable and will lead to sickness if he is trapped within such a ward for too long.

-Fae, like crows, are enamored with jewels and other shiny objects, less of a weakness really and more of a distraction. Soap, prior to his enlistment had several piercings, such as his ears, and brow…among other things. He was very fond of the adornments, and easily captivated by the shiny displays on others. (This also extends to his intense love of blowing shit up and watching the sparks fly, big ole hearts in his eyes as the colors dance) In the event the team goes out for something special Soap will throw on a few pieces for fun~

-Soap can not lie, at least not directly, however Soap is a very sharp lad, and has learned to cleverly navigate around this by either not telling the whole truth, letting others assume, or simply not correcting misconceptions. He is a Fae afterall, being clever is his specialty.

-Customs of love and marriage vary among the Fae. Many Fae interpret strong love as variations of servitude, especially towards human mates. Soap has gotten himself tangled between both of these versions of love. For Soap love is servitude. Not something to be expected of his lovers, but from him. Soap gives himself to his lovers willingly, He wants to be good, give them anything they want and let them take what they need. Love is worship, and Soap is a very devoted man.

-Soap and Gaz had bro’d up as soon as they spotted each other. Having seen through each other's glamours, they became fast friends. Two oddballs fighting side by side. Which would turn into playful banter, and kips on the helo leaning against one another. Then to wandering hands and desperate kisses, having found comfort and fondness in each other after years of hiding themselves among humans. Soap and Gaz are the most cuddly. Johnny likes to lay sprawled in his Sphinx’s nest, his arms curled around his middle, face buried against Gaz's stomach. Both of them absolutely hate to sleep alone.

- Soap had a knack for getting into trouble. Disregarding orders to do what needed to be done. Had nearly been kicked out had his skills not saved his skin (and countless others). It was Price who sniffed him out, offered to take the man on loan for a bit. Soap's former CO was happy to be rid of him and hopeful that the notoriously stern Captain would knock some sense into him. Price, however had no such plans, he cut Soap loose, full authority, and watched the man bloom. Price did not anger at Soap’s decisions, didn’t flinch at his savagery in the field. In fact, Price had looked upon him with fondness (and a fair amount of exasperation). He kept Soap warm with lovely praises and a regular morning coffee, plus a heavy splash of sweet cream, for good measure.

-Simon had been more difficult, adamant on giving the Fae a hard time. Having seemingly been put off by Soap ever since he bounded off the truck and fist-bumped his arm on the tarmac. But Soap was determined, chatting and teasing, unphased by the lieutenants' icey behavior. They fell together in no time. Soap nestled to his chest, lips brushing over Simon's slow beating heart. Soap would never admit it. Never admit that he knew it would be like this all along. That Soap had seen him in his dreams.

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spooky-pomegranate · 1 year ago

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Price's Scars

Price’s breath was steady and warm on your neck. The bristles of his beard moved ever so slightly up and down against your skin with each inhale and exhale.

You turned and faced him. Watching him sleep he looked peaceful, his strong jawline relaxed, and his lips slightly parted. You reached out and traced your fingers along his stubble, feeling the soft salt and pepper bristles beneath your fingertips.

He looked different.

He felt different.

Things had changed.

Each scar on Price’s body had been like a page from his private diary and earlier he had finally let you in. He had let you read his story. He had spent hours laying himself bare, letting you flip through his pages, and inviting you to study his text. And you had reveled in it. You had soaked in each detail like he was a sacred script, that the gods had blessed you with from on high. And you had memorized every line and stroke of ink like a preacher, devoted to his scripture.

He was still Price, a man whose heart was harder to get to know than most, but now you had a better understanding of him. He had dealt with more pain than you had ever imagined, and that knowledge made you handle him differently. You touched him more delicately and looked at him with a deeper understanding.

He was strong. Physically you had always known that, but now you knew he was a fighter down to his core. And he had promised to fight for you.

Your finger trailed over a small silver scar on Price’s jaw. Training accident when he was 18. Your hand moved to his chest. A bullet wound just below his shoulder. Kastovia, 2014 op gone sideways. You touched a tiny mark behind his ear. This one made you smile. A game of cops and robbers with the boys in his neighborhood. He’d been nicked with a plastic baton a little too hard. He was 8.

As you brushed his hair away from the scar there, you imagined a tiny John Price riding around his childhood neighborhood somewhere in England, doling out prop justice with a bicycle and a vivid imagination. You bet he was cute then. Shaggy brown hair and piercing blue eyes. He probably gave his parents hell too with the trouble he got into. If he never sat still now, he must have been on another level then.

You couldn’t help but smile.

God, you loved this man. This scarred but perfect man.

#call of duty #captain price #captain john price #john price #captain john price x reader #john price x reader

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goatcheesecak3 · 10 months ago

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What I think saw characters eat for breakfast

I'm not sure why but all these make perfect sense to me

John

I feel like John likes to keep it simple with egg and soldiers, not too much salt but a lot of pepper. If he wants to treat himself though, he'll make himself scrambled eggs on toast and a little salad. (He is my peepaw and I love him)

Amanda

She's an omelette girly <3 if she's got any vegetables knocking about she'll put them in, if not it's all just very plain. She prefers something more exciting, but can only really have something convenient and quick, considering how busy she is.

Lawrence

This man loves, and I mean LOVES, avocado on toast. He probably gets fancy bread from some market, and if he knew what the hell an Instagram was, he would post a picture of it with some corny caption like "what a way to start my day!🤗☀️🥑"

Adam

He doesn't eat breakfast most days, and when he does it's usually unbuttered toast. But in an ideal world, if he had the time and the money, he'd have pancakes with chocolate sauce every day. What can I say? I think he's got a sweet tooth.

Hoffman

I think Mark had a full English ONCE and never looked back. He doesn't have time to make one every day, but he'll be damned if he doesn't at least make himself a bacon sandwich with LOTS of brown sauce

Strahm

I think strahm is big fan of porridge with some jam in it. He makes a big deal of it being "healthy, yet tasty!"

Lynn

Lynn is a busy gal, her job means early mornings and a sporadic schedule, so there's no time to make a real breakfast. I think she's big into fruit smoothies for a quick breakfast that she can drink on her way to work.

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louthesawgirl · 3 months ago

Text

What each Saw character would get as a Tesco meal deal (scientifically accurate)

Hello everyone, I decided as my debut long Saw shitpost, I thought I would decide what meal deals different Saw characters would opt for if they stumbled into a Tesco and were a bit peckish after setting up a few traps.

If you’re not from the U.K. or Ireland and are not familiar with the British & Irish institutions of a meal deal, it’s basically a packaged sandwich, pasta pot, salad, bit of sushi maybe alongside a snack item and a drink for a fixed price (it used to be around £3/ €4 but the shops are taking the piss now). Meal deals are considered a treasured institution here and are an indication of your personality. People judge your character based on what you get between two slices of cheap bread.

Here’s what different Saw characters would get for a Tesco meal deal:

Adam (Faulkner) Stanheight

1. Southern fried chicken chipotle mayo sub

2. Doritos cheese flavour

3. Vimto still drink

Judging on how we know Adam is quite an unorganised adult struggling to adult most days, I would assume he opts for high energy foods to keep his tastebuds happy. Cheese, spiced chicken and fruity drinks seem up his street. Plus, Vimto is a very Mancunian thing and if Saw was set in the U.K., there’s no way Adam would not be from Manchester.

Dr Lawrence (Larry) Gordon

1. Eat Your Greens Feta Salad

2. Apple & Grape snack pot

3. Chilled Iced Latte

I feel like because Larry is a doctor, he prioritises convenience but also eats healthily. I also imagine him to be meat free/ vegetarian so that explains the feta & greens salad (I don’t think he’d be vegan though, he seems like he loves proper cheese too much). Larry seems like he’d always be carrying breath mints or tictacs to minimise the cheese or coffee breath- nobody needs a waft of that when being told they’ve got 6 months left to live.

Amanda Young

1. BLT sandwich

2. Walkers Thai Sweet Chilli Sensations Crisps

3. Monster Energy drink (chosen based on packaging colours to match mood)

Amanda is a busy lady planning traps and building contraptions designed to almost certainly kill people. She seems like she enjoys a bit of spice along with classic comfort combinations.

John Kramer

- Chicken & bacon sandwich

- Egg snack pot

- Green smoothie

John seems like he’s mindful of what he puts into his body considering he’s consistently a salt & vinegar crisp away from death with the cancer and all. He’s also a very smart man so he would know the best value for money combination with a meal deal is getting an overpriced fruit smoothie for a drink.

Mark Hoffman

- All Day Breakfast sandwich (triple)

- Walkers Max Salt & Vinegar crisps

- Red Bull

Mark seems like he can’t get enough of bacon & sausage, even though it’s cold and not exactly very fresh. Maybe he’d even have a bit of HP brown sauce with it. Mark would also probably make immature jibes towards vegans and vegetarians because he’s that kind of man. Considering Mark works overtime setting up traps and evading capture, all he’d be drinking by the events of Saw 7 would be energy drinks.

Jill Tuck

- Egg & Cress sandwich

- Arla strawberry protein yogurt

- Bottle of water

Jill is a bit… bland. I’m sorry but I just have to say it. Egg & cress perfectly summarises Jill’s personality as seen in movies 4-7 between two pieces of bread.

Peter Strahm

- Deli style cheese & pickle sandwich

- Smoked salmon sushi pack

- Pepsi Max

Strahm made some good decisions, some regrettable ones and one very very dumb decision during his time in the Saw universe. Just like his track record with making poor decisions, I’d guess Peter would get some supermarket sushi as a snack with his meal deal- not very fresh nor authentic and will leave you wondering why you couldn’t have got a pack of reliable crisps or a chocolate bar instead.

Lindsey Perez

- Feta & sundried tomato pasta

- Propercorn sweet & salty popcorn

- Fanta orange

Perez is a great character and so she would get a meal deal to reflect that. Why do I also imagine Lindsey being veggie?

Eric Matthews

- Meatball marinara sub

- Walkers Monster Munch Pickled Onion crisps

- Red Bull

I feel like this choice accurately reflects Eric. It’s a combination that’s maybe reflective of an immature palette, maybe even a sort of guilty pleasure combination. I wonder if he’d put the monster munch hands (or feet) on his fingers and eat them like that.

Hope you enjoyed my incredibly British saw shitpost x

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moondirti · 2 years ago

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I love your writing ❤️ Can I ask, what do you think each of the 141 boys top kinks are?

thanks love! sorry this took so long, i was givin it some thought

characters included: simon 'ghost' riley, captain john price, john 'soap' mactavish, kyle 'gaz' garrick warnings: dacryphilia (mentioned sadism), gagging (spit and alluded breathplay), breeding (unprotected p-in-v and creampies), anal (lube/preparation, unprotected p-in-a)

SIMON 'GHOST' RILEY: DACRYPHILIA

i've mentioned this before but i whole-heartedly believe that simon loves seeing you cry. he's not a good man, nor does he pretend to be – he's a sadist in many ways, and that extends to the bedroom, where, more than anything, he strives to find you writhing in half pain, half pleasure.

there are darker parts of him he tries to keep at bay; that instinct to push you to your limits - seeing just how far you can contort before you threaten to break, testing the give of your flesh and what it takes to pierce it. yet, no matter how much you beg for it - no matter what you say or do - he would never expose that part of himself to you. he’d keep it locked up, tucked between a rib and that doughy part of him that still rings with vexing guilt.

but drawing glossy tears to your lovely little eyes? fucking ragged moans and high-pitched wails out of you? it’s the perfect medium, a compromise he seeks almost every lay. simon would leave bruises, would push so far into you your belly bulges. he stretches you out, tender skin pulling with a fiery sting, and pinches your clit as you try to adjust. he leaves marks he knows will heal, but ones that ache enough to get you sniffing into the crook of his neck.

and it’s when you’re all flushed out, lips swollen and salted water staining your cheeks, that he cums the hardest. it’s when you’re still hiccuping in the aftermath, tender, raw, does he opt to stay the night. just this once, just for the girl whose tears he both hates and adores.

JOHN 'SOAP' MACTAVISH: GAGGING

it is without a doubt in my mind that i say: johnny has a major oral fixation. when people ask whether he’s an ass, tits or thighs guy, he has to turn them around to very intently point to that bloody fucking mouth of yours. it was the first thing that captured his eye – those lips smeared in lip gloss – and ever since then, he hasn’t been able to get a grip.

because – listen – he’s messy. sex with him involves every fluid imaginable, puddled in curves and bends you always miss when washing up. the worst of them is spit; he’s a sucker for you all cock-dumb and drooly, stuffed chock-full in every single hole. when he’s ramming you from behind, he’ll always hug an arm around to reach your face, pushing three thick fingers onto your tongue until you’re gagging like crazy. he nudges your tonsils, allows you the space to breathe but not enough to swallow back your piling saliva. johnny doesn’t pull back until he feels it running down his wrist, until he’s coated in you absolutely everywhere.

and it’s not just his fingers. he shoves just about anything down your throat. his cock, buried to the hilt so your nose smooshes into the crop of curly hair on his pelvis; your toys, right after making you play with yourself; hell, there was the one time he’d been too impatient to get back home and pulled you into a public restroom. he’d fucking crammed your panties into your mouth to prevent you from making noise.

he just likes seeing you struggle to fit them, issall

CAPTAIN JOHN PRICE: BREEDING

at twenty-something, he’d made a list of things he wanted to accomplish in his lifetime and, while his career goals were rapidly realised, the domestic column went largely untouched for almost a decade. he thought he was past that point of adolescent naivete – having long since learnt to be okay with the way things are – but price isn’t getting any younger. when he meets you, that yearning for a family – a pregnant wife, barefoot and waiting for him, touched with a halo type of radiance – comes back twice as strong.

he knows he can’t intentionally fuck a baby into you, not yet – he’s still in a position where he’s away from home more often than not. that being said, the captain certainly plays fast and loose with the rules. no condoms? mm, no problem, sweetheart. i’ll fetch you a plan b tomorrow, before pumping you full of cum. he thinks he’s discreet when he manhandles you into those positions, the ones where your bottom half is propped up, where your legs are pushed to your chest and his cock spears into unfathomable depths. he just wants you to feel every of him, promise.

but lord, does he lose it when he feels his head kiss the wall of your womb. It’s the sight of you, spread open and overflowing, globs of pearlescent spend oozing from a wrecked hole. it’s you smearing it into your folds with two quivering fingers and tugging him closer. price thinks he’s ready to risk it all – every ticked box, his career, his livelihood – to get to see you like that every morning, blushing with an early dawn, biting down on his shoulder to keep the kids from waking up.

for now, though, he’ll settle for fingering his cum back into you, knowing that it won’t amount to anything.

KYLE 'GAZ' GARRICK: ANAL

often pegged as the most ‘well-behaved’ member of the 141, gaz just tends to keep things quiet. he hides his snickers with a cough, his sarcastic remarks are whispered to himself (unlike soap – who almost yaps about everything to the lieutenant). as such, his top kink happens to be more of a dirty little secret than anything. it takes him a while to admit it to you, but the thought of stretching your other hole drives him mad; his eyes always draw to the ring of muscle whenever you’re bent in front of him.

he’s kind of ashamed, really. that is, until one slow afternoon where the two of you indulge in your routine of cuddles and shitty anime dubs. he’s got you nestled on his lap, curled under an old quilt that smells like sugar scrub and his aftershave. and maybe it’s the way your head tucks under his chin, or maybe it’s your legs intertwined with one another, but before he knows it, he’s grinding up into your ass and you’re reciprocating, panting as his hardening bulge cleaves between it.

you know, i’ve always wanted to try something… next thing you know, you’re in your bedroom, pillow buttressing your hips as he slowly preps you. he’s got one hand spreading your cheeks, the other coated in lube, scissoring the unbelievably tight clutch of your ass. he’s leaking onto his lap, practically twitching, but he doesn’t want to rush. he takes his time unravelling you, giving you all the orgasms you need to let go of your tensions. only then does he finally, finally, split you open.

and it’s beyond anything he’s ever imagined; your muscles are more controlled, stronger. you squeeze him with herculean strength, milking him for all he’s worth. gaz buries his face into your hair to muffle the satisfied groans that stream from him, taking you deeper, deeper, so that when he cums, you can feel it in your guts.

needless to say, anal becomes a regularity after that.

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featherandferns · 6 months ago

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It’s my birthday today!!!

Literally can not decide how jj would act about birthdays, what do you think?

-🍓

first of all - HAPPY BIRTHDAY! I hope you have had, or are having, the best day! <3

(everyone wish 🍓 anon happy birthday right now or else no more JJ fics)

hmmm. I think JJ would definitely try his best with birthdays. Even if he doesn't quite hit the mark, he'd get brownie points for giving it his best shot.

His dad didn't ever care about his birthday. At the most, he'd get a rough pat on the shoulder and a grunted happy birthday, kid, or even a can of larger if his dad was feeling extra affectionate and perky. At the least, it would go unnoticed. Thankfully, the Pogues made up for the lack. They'd supply him with drinks and weed and cake, and would spend the day doing JJ-approved things. Those typically involved starting the day with a blunt and a beer, surfing at the break, fishing in the evening and wrestling around the campfire. Money being tight and all, gifts were few and far between. Instead it was more company. That was plenty for JJ. Just the acknowledgement that he was turning another year older was enough.

Besides, his birthday brought a looming sense of dread. He'd try and push it down, distracting himself with festivities, but every year that passed, he wondered what his future might look like. A prison cell like his dad, or casual alcoholism? A scrimping-and-scraping lifestyle, alone and isolated? Or a simple but cheerful life with his friends, perhaps even rich with gold gathered from John B and Pope's countless adventures?

That final premonition became stronger after JJ met you. Once you were around, the festivities altered slightly. Instead of a blunt first-thing, it was sleepy morning sex, with you doting on JJ like he were the first born king, and then a sedated smoke straight after. The joys didn't end at the bonfire: instead, it extended into the night, with you practically worshipping JJ in the bedroom. You also splurged out to get him a gift. Usually it was something handy, like a lighter or pocketknife, but JJ treasured every bargain buy like it was a Rolex.

Because JJ knew what it felt like to go without on birthdays, whenever it was yours, he tried his best to make it special. He woke you up with his head between your thighs. He attempted to bake you breakfast in bed (often consisting of burnt pancakes and luke-warm coffee). He'd be the first in line to offer to take photos of you for your Instagram, working overtime to get the perfect angles and lighting. Had to at least try and push his luck, sneaking a shot up your skirt, earning him a smack upside the head. Same as you, he scraped together enough money to get you a gift. Some jewellery or make-up that you'd been eyeing, unable to justify the price tag. If money was too tight, he fell back on his acts of service. Fixed the creaky door. Pimped out your board. Cleaned your busted-up car. You fucking loved it.

Whilst some things became birthday traditions, one very quickly did not. The first time you celebrated a birthday with JJ, he tried to bake you a cake. Note the word 'tried'. It was undercooked, to start. When he took it out of the cake-pan, raw batter leaked everywhere. He salvaged the baked sponge and made some horrendous contemporary art out of it. The icing was just as bad. Isn't it strange how similar salt looks to sugar? In wonky, wobbling hand-writing, JJ piped happy bithday, joyfully oblivious to the spelling mistake. And whilst the cake was completely inedible (like truly diabolical), you marked that as the moment you fell in love with JJ. Hell, when a guy bakes you a cake, you sort of don't have a choice.

So, JJ tried his best with birthdays, and you appreciated every tiny effort :)

#replies #happy birthday!#drabbles #jj #jj maybank #jj x reader #jj maybank x reader #obx #outer banks #outerbanks

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thedeviltohisangel · 8 months ago

Text

All The Things I Did (7): I Thought About Thinking It Through

a/n: ok so the first blurb of the sleep talking interlude has been somewhat negated so I apologize but promise it is worth it. heavy shit this chapter as we get the full story on sidney landry. but john might say the L word...

warnings: mentions of domestic violence, mentions of character just wanting it all to stop

When John walked into the pub that night, the sounds of an angel laughing reached his ears but the cause was making his fists curl. Cass was seated at a table in the back corner with a man, who he presumed was Mr. Foster, sitting across from her. Her chin was in her hand the way it was whenever he told her a funny story. Her smile was as soft as candlelight as she nodded along to whatever he was telling her. Swears he felt his blood boil when her hand brushed against his across the table.

“Hey, baby, I didn’t think I was going to see you here tonight.” His annoyance was washed away as she turned to greet him with a smile. She said his name and brought him in for a kiss, John using her proximity to press a few more to her lips.

“John, this is Captain Will Foster. We went to spook school in Maryland together.” John kept one arm around the back of her chair as he shook the man’s hand.

“Major Egan, it’s an honor, sir.”

“Hear that, Cass, some people think it’s an honor to meet me.” She rolled her eyes as she took a sip of her soda. “You’re the one who’s going to keep an eye on my girl in Berlin?”

“I’ll do my best, sir, but this is Cass’ operation. I’m just here to do what she tells me.” Cass blushed and ducked her head. “Lieutenant Cooper graduated top of our class. Highest marks the entire year.”

“It’s not that impressive,” she began. “Not like I can fly a plane.”

“None of that,” John stated as he gripped her chin between his fingers. “You are the smartest, most gorgeous, most impressive woman that has ever walked this earth.” She smiled in spite of the ridiculousness and let him pull her in for another kiss.

“Careful, John, or all this is going to go to my head. Then I’ll be truly insufferable.”

“I have never once complained about your company.” As it always did, the rest of the world sealed itself off from the space between them. As soon as they had their eyes on each other there was nothing else that mattered. “Can I get you a refill?”

“Yes, please.” John kissed her forehead and was off in the direction of the bar.

“You and the Major, huh?”

“He is…a welcome surprise. I saw him get off a plane one day and couldn’t shake the look in his eyes.”

“Curiosity killed the cat but satisfaction brought it back,” Will replied with a swig of his beer. “You always were good at learning everything about your target without giving up even a hint of yourself.”

“John’s not my target. He’s my-” She stopped. What was he? Was there a word to describe their relationship status? Partner seemed too severe and official. Boyfriend seemed too trivial. “Mine. He’s just mine. And I’m his.”

“Simple. That works.” Oh, if he only knew. The feelings they had for each other, ability to express them agnostic, were simple. They were pure. They were real. They were warm and comforting and made her nerves tingle. But the world around them was so complicated. The lives they led as individuals were complicated, how were they supposed to twine them together? “And to think you were a runaway bride when I first met you.”

“Runaway bride?” John chose the perfect time to return. Catching the one part of that comment that Cass felt in her chest. “You?”

“It’s an exaggeration of the circumstances.” Cass transitioned to damage control. The topic of why she had left South Carolina in the first place hadn’t come up between her and John. And she had wanted to keep it that way. There was no use pouring salt in her old wounds.

“Oh, come on, Cass. Engaged to marry the big time banker’s son and fleeing the engagement party to enlist in the OSS? It’s an incredible story.” For the second time that day, John found himself furious with the tone someone was using to speak to her. She had fully retreated into herself, focused on the condensation rolling down the side of the bottle, her hands shaking in her lap at the reminder of that night.

“Doesn’t seem like she wants to talk about it, Captain.” There was authority in his tone. It was protective. Purposeful. No room to misinterpret his words. “You okay?” It looked like she was having trouble breathing. As if the amount of trauma trapped in her chest was suffocating her.

“No. I just need some air. Alone.” She doesn’t think she could look John in the eye. Not when he now knew the awful truth. Not when she was now nothing but damaged and spoiled goods. John watched her walk away with a clenched jaw.

“Major-”

“I don’t know what the fuck happened in South Carolina, Foster, but if I ever hear you mention it again it will be the last thing you ever do.” John drained the rest of his whiskey and slammed it on the table. He didn’t wait for a response. He meant the words he said. And Will knew it.

----

“There’s more than one of them,” John mocked as he sat across from the RAF officers. “I can see more than one of you, too. I could knock all of you out.” Cass hadn’t come back into the pub and John had just drowned his anger and worry in amber liquid. Buck and Veal helped settle him down as he yelled he could do it in only one punch.

“You want to get Major excited? Baseball. Specifically the Yankees,” Curt offered.

“Really? I would have thought it was the little poppet who left close to tears.” No one tried to stop him when he stood this time.

“Say that again,” he threatened.

“Why don’t we make a bit of sport out of it, Major?”

“I’ve got him, John, let me take care of him,” Curt reasoned. Really, they were all afraid John might kill him. A better man would know when to step aside. Let a more level head prevail. But John wasn’t in any particular mood to take the high ground.

“Not this time. People in this goddamn pub need to stop talking about her.” They all milled outside and John tossed his blazer into the grass. He wondered if Cass would appreciate the gesture or be repulsed by it. If she ever believed violence was the answer or always chose to think her way out of everything. He ducked the weak hand of the Brit as he thought about the way she looked earlier. The way she had hid herself from his gaze and his touch and requested she be alone. He didn’t like the hole in his chest that she left whenever she wasn’t near.

His fist landed square on his target’s face and the sickening crunch of breaking bone echoed throughout the night air. He pictured Harding’s lovesick eyes when his Cass entered the room. Pictured Foster and his words quelling the fire inside of his Cass in an instant. Pictured this pompous asshole watching his Cass walk from the pub with a shake to her shoulders. Cass was a deity that mere men were not meant to get too close to. John didn’t even believe he deserved the way she looked at him. The way she touched him and comforted him and made him feel at home in a faraway land.

“You good, Bucky?” The others were cheering and laughing and slapping him on the shoulder but Buck looked concerned more than anything.

“I gotta protect her, Buck. I can’t let this place take her from me.” He couldn’t even feel the wounds to his knuckles or the blood of another man trickling down his fingers. “I’ll find you guys later.” John ignored their groans and pleas and grabbed his jacket from the ground before heading off in her direction. His north star. He would always follow her home.

----

He knocked softly against her door, Mary not hiding her eye roll at his disheveled uniform and bloodied knuckles when she had begrudgingly let him in, his forehead landing against the wood as he waited for her to answer.

“You found me,” she whispered softly as she cracked the door open an inch.

“Always will,” he replied sincerely. “Can I come in?” She nodded and opened the door wider, John closing it behind him as she sat on the edge of her bed. He looked around and noticed a packed bag on the floor and a stack of envelopes on her desk. The one on top looked like it was addressed to her parents.

“I’m sorry I didn’t come back after…” John shook his head.

“You were upset. He shouldn’t have said what he said.” Cass chuckled drily and looked at the ceiling.

“You have my back, just like that? Without even knowing what it was he was talking about?” He sat down in her chair, elbows landing on the top of his thighs. “What happened to your hand?” She surged forward and held his hand in hers with a delicacy that made him shudder.

“I was having your back.” Not asking any further, she opened a drawer and pulled out a first aid kit. “And to answer your question, yes. It doesn’t matter what he was talking about. If it made you uncomfortable, it needed to stop.” He didn’t wince as she cleaned the blood from his hand, kissing each knuckle for extra measure, and wrapping a bandage to seal in her love.

“I appreciate that, John, but what he said was true.” He winced now.

“About being another man’s bride?” The thought made him sick. The thought that Cass was already someone else’s. That she hadn’t told him and let him fall in love with her and share in those sacred moments together. That maybe that was why she so rigidly didn’t want him to say so.

“I was supposed to be. Before I left for training, I was engaged.” She paused and waited for his reaction. Waited for him to be angry or upset and tell her she wasn’t worth the trouble.

“And I’m sure you left for a reason, Cass.” His desire to understand her almost hurt her chest. It reminded her exactly why she had left. Why Sidney Landry was most certainly not the man she was meant to marry. “You don’t have to tell me. I don’t want to drudge something up if you’ve already gotten over it.”

“No, if…if me and you are going to be me and you, you need to know. You deserve to know.” John leaned forward to hold her hands, kissing the back of them with all the love he could muster. “His name is Sidney Landry. His father is the biggest banker in the state and they’ve been looking to get their claws into my family’s business for decades.” Her hands shook slightly and he squeezed them tight.

“I’m here,” he whispered. “I’m not leaving.”

“By all accounts it was an advantageous match. They were wealthy and powerful and Sidney could have any girl in Charleston that he wanted but for some god awful reason he wanted me. My mother was so delighted. She had found a man who was willing to try to tame me.” A tear rolled down her cheek and John’s thumb wiped it away.

“Cass…”

“I had no choice but to say yes and let him parade me around like some blue ribbon. I was so miserable every second I was with him. He would grab my arms so tight they bruised everytime we went somewhere. He would say the crudest things about me having his children. I spent months just wanting it all to stop.” The tears were coming in full force. Her hands grasping John’s like he was her anchor in the storm. His own eyes were swimming with emotion as he watched her exorcize these demons from within her. “One night he had been drinking so much I couldn’t understand what he was saying. But he was so angry I wouldn’t let him touch me. So angry that he…”

“You don’t have to tell me,” he repeated, “I know all I need to, Cass.” John already knew he was going to kill Sidney Landry. Didn’t know when but he knew it would be slow.

“His hands were around my neck and I thought he was going to kill me. I hit him as hard as I could over and over before he stopped. I ran and I ran and I ran until I couldn’t breathe.”

“You ran all the way to London, huh?” he said in the hopes of getting a smile to crack across her face. It worked.

“I thought I ended up here because I was running away from him but maybe I was really just running to you.”

“That sounds about right,” he murmured as he stroked the top of her cheeks. “What you went through…You are so fucking strong, Cass. You deserve to be happy and to feel loved and protected.”

“I’m so damaged, John. I’m not meant for a life of teacups and doilies and standing there silently. No one is going to want this version of me.” Now that he knew the truth, she expected him to run too. To find a simple girl who could be the wife he deserved and the mother to his children he deserved.

“That’s not true, Cass, because I,” he swallowed and held her face between his hands, steady and strong, “because I love you. I am so fucking in love with you, Cassandra Cooper. I love every last bit of you and I love this version of you and know I’ll love every version that comes after.” She kissed him ferociously, not able to get enough of him even with no distance between them. “Come home with me when this is all over. Do me the honor and make me the happiest man alive.”

“I will, John, I will.” He kissed her with a groan, eager to lock this promise between them. “John, you need to know that I leave for Berlin in the morning. The operation it’s…it’s…others have tried and they haven’t come back.”

“I’m not letting you say goodbye,” he reasoned. “Not when you got me thinking about an after.” Oh it was so cruel and dangerous for the universe to do this to him. Give him the one thing he’d been wanting only to have her live her life on the same edge he did.

“If something happens to me, I need you to know I feel the same way you do.” She just needed to get through this. If she could survive Berlin, she could survive this whole thing. She could love John Egan wholeheartedly and unabashedly. She could find the courage to go back home if he was with her. “When I went to see Harding this morning, I went to turn down Berlin.”

“Turn it down?”

“I would have rather been here with you than anywhere else. No matter what those consequences were. But then I saw Buck’s letter and I was so angry.”

“I know. I deserve that.” She shook her head.

“No, you don’t because here I am doing the exact same thing.”

“Hey, you’re not going to need those farewell letters on your desk, okay? You’re going to go to Berlin, kick someone’s ass or steal state secrets to end the war and you’re going to come right back home to me. Just like how I am always going to come right back home to you.”

“Forever and ever?” she asked.

“Forever and ever,” he promised. “You going to let me hold you while we try and get some sleep tonight?”

And that was how Mary found them before the sun rose the following morning. John protectively wrapped around Cass from behind, their fingers interlocked at her middle. And they both studied each other for a few more minutes until Mary said it was really, really time for Cass to go. John not wanting to forget a single thing about this very moment. Cass not wanting to forget a single detail about the face of the man she loved. The face of the man she was fighting to keep safe.

“Don’t get distracted by thoughts of your love for me while you’re flying,” she teased as he pecked her lips a few times.

“I am going to fly so much faster with that admission off my chest.” She giggled and fell back into him easily, her plane whirring to life behind them.

“If you do, I might let you show me how much you love me when I get back.” That twinkle of mischief was there that he loved so dearly.

“Is that so? You better hurry then. I’m a patient man, Spook, but not when it comes to loving on you.”

“Cass! We got to go! Weather’s moving in!” Her heart dropped along with her smile as she turned back to John. The part she was dreading.

“I’ll see you when I get back,” she said, her fingers tracing the contours of his face one last time. His knuckles brushed her cheek and he kissed her one last time.

“I love you. You come back to me in one piece. That’s an order, Lieutenant.”

“I’ll do my best, Major.” She pulled him by the front of his jacket for her own last kiss. To tell him she loved him without saying the words. Those would be for after.

She walked backwards until she couldn’t anymore. Her hand pressing to her lips before she released it into the wind, John catching the sentiment with ease. He had never felt such torment watching a plane take off as he did in that moment. It was carrying everything he held dear off to a faraway place.

“Please come back to me, Cass.”

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