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tojisun · 4 months ago

Text

the lights are on

!! simon riley x afab reader; chubby reader; confidence and body issues; past bullying (not by simon and briefly mentioned); smut - minors dni // divider by @/plutism!

i projected too much of myself onto the reader so do forgive me for that. this is a milestone celebration for me, mostly, but also for you all so i hope you all would like it too <3

this is inspired by rachel wiley’s “10 honest thoughts on being loved by a skinny boy” - a slam poetry

you are told that love comes easily — that it is the budding of spring, shimmering and vibrant, and blooming oh-so tenderly. unfurling oh-so carefully, like you are melting into padded sheets and cashmere sweaters.

you are told that love comes easily — that it stands out amongst a vast ocean. that it is distinguishable; a beacon so familiar you run towards it, unafraid and unashamed. like fate or destiny; like fairytales being remade.

you are told that love comes easily, but you know they mean to people who don’t look like you; only for the girls with slim arms and robust legs, with dips in their waists and hour-glass figures, with bones pressing against their skins like carved mountains.

love comes easily to thin girls. to the girls whose loud laughter are heard as wind chimes, whose jolly isn’t sneered at or embarrassing to see, whose confidence is just is — that it isn’t an act of empowerment or a statement or a message.

so you slink back into your shadows with little laughs and curled shoulders, like maybe if you diminished your presence enough, you would be seen physically small too. petite is a word no one has used for you but how else can anyone explain the way you trim yourself into bite-sized pieces?

you aren’t the first to be chosen; not the one people fight over. when you walk into a room, the best that could happen was that no one would notice you. that you would blend into the shadows or the walls, quiet and peaceful. painfully lonely, yes, but peaceful, nevertheless.

(you still have nightmares of high school.

of boys using you for their dares, like the only thing good about you was to be the butt of the joke; like asking you out was a comedic show.

of girls and—

sometimes, they’re meaner than the boys with all their lilac and softness; you thought that at least they were a kindred soul, but so many times, during lunch, you were cornered into tears until you became full from nothing but your anguish.)

when simon first walked into your life, you knew it — whatever ‘it’ could be — was impossible.

you had already ended the tragedy before something could even begin. you saw his beauty — in a way that you cannot explain; in a way that is rugged and scarred and terrifying, almost, but beautiful, still — and knew there was no way he would fall for you, anyway.

but simon was… persistent. charming you in a way that was painfully absent of all suave but he was still so charismatic, he always left your stomach in knots. hope bloomed in your chest and you realized that maybe it needn’t be a tragedy; that it mustn’t be a joke nor a dare; that you must be—

loved.

that you are loved — just that. just as is.

simon watches as you lay down on the bed, your cheeks tingling with heat as embarrassment rises from the base of your neck, dancing past your shoulders and devouring up until even the tip of your nose thrums with feverish touch. you look away from him, feeling so shy at the intensity in his eyes. he looks at you like he is ravenous for you; like you are the only nourishment he needs, and that you have made him hungry, his gums aching with the need to sink his teeth into the soft parts of your body.

you have never been looked at like this before, and it is intoxicating. it makes you heady, breathless, lips parted open as you gasp for air—

rustling fills your ears and you perk up, getting ready to snap your bra off, only to find simon naked, bare, his cock chubbing up from underneath his bush, and you have never loved a body until his. lust coils in the tendrils of your heart, stretching into the yawning that burrows in the pit of your stomach to capture you whole.

you want him.

god, do you want him.

he falls to his knees, stalking close to where you are splayed on the bed like the offering you are that he says he will never deserve, but you stop him with a hand up and a quiet breath, and, “the lights.”

your voice trembles. shame slowly snuffs out the greed.

“can you turn them off, please?” you ask because it is a courtesy you were taught to—

‘can you bathe me in darkness so that the two of us can pretend that i am not undesirable and that your love is not a fluke?’

‘can you hide me from your eyes so your mind does not give you reason to pull away?’

‘can you reduce me into a body to fuck into, so that our pretend-love story does not end?’

your question makes simon still, his heady eyes lightening up again. recognition slips into his consciousness and he rouses up — you tell yourself that the caving in your chest isn’t a heartbreak — to reach forward.

to reach for—

you.

simon’s scarred palm falls to your stomach, planting atop the sea of stretch marks. his thumb traces their ridges, so soft and slow and intimate, and your eyes burn because why is he so cruel?

why must he touch you like you are something to revere? like you are something priceless and that he is undeserving of you? like you are, all parts, beautiful?

“won’t you let me love you like this?” is what he says instead, and he moves, desperate to meet your eyes. “can we do it with the lights on, from now on?”

all the air in your lungs is knocked out of you.

his words were quiet but they resonated so loudly, almost booming and deafening. the world doesn’t freeze nor does time slow, but there is something in that moment that makes you feel like you are at the throes of something divine. like you are finally sewn together.

you do not sob but you are so close to doing so. instead, you pull him close, trembling, and give him a kiss. he melts into it, his hands mapping the softness of your body, digging into the fat and never letting go.

he devours you like this — hot lips against your own. spit is shared, moans fall in between the tiny cracks whenever you pull away to breathe only for simon to push close again, never letting you stray alone any longer, and clingy as he fits you into him.

the first drag of his fingers into your cunt makes you gasp, your head falling back to the pillows as a mewl drips from your mouth. he pulls away, huffing, and positions himself so he can watch you. you keep your head tipped up, still so embarrassed by being exposed this way, but simon curls his fingers just right, and he strokes against something that punches a gasp out of you.

“shit—”

“like this, sweetheart?” simon croons, nuzzling his face on your rib, his cheek bumping against your boob. he pulls his fingers out, dragging with him muffled squelching noises that tickle your ears, before fucking his fingers in you again.

you whine, a drawn hiccupped sound, and claw at the sheets at the pace he adopts. it is fast, overwhelming, but still not enough. it seems like he’s spoiled you rotten, and left you needy for nothing but his cock.

“fuck me,” you whimper, arms looped around his wrists. you feel so weak from the pleasure, wrung out of orgasms with his fingers in your cunt and his palm against your clit. you flick your eyes up, meeting his gaze. “si, please?”

he lets out a snarl, his softness and need peaking into something dangerous. you find that you are not scared, instead, you are besotted — inviting him in by spreading your legs wider, showing him how wet your pussy is and that it is ready for his taking.

your face crumples at the slow slide, his cock fucking you raw like this is the first time again. like you two have more to explore, more to uncover, and you keen at the intensity of it all.

missionary has never felt this good before; simon thrusts his hips, humping the remaining inches in, and you scream — your hips snapping up, and your throat burning with the ache. simon holds you by your waist, his fingers dimpling your flesh, and fucks you with gusto.

he chases his orgasm as he melts into you. he is louder today, and more guttural with his desires. he snarls his praises, the words curling from the backs of his teeth until they drip on you like hot wax — scalding, overwhelming, and leaving you to feel all tender and raw.

“si!” you cry out, reaching forward to play with your clit. “m’close, baby. m’close!”

“yeah?” he rasps out, his balls slapping against your ass. you go dizzy, eyes rolling to the back of your skull as goosebumps rise across the expanse of your body. “do i make my baby feel good? tell me, sweetheart, go on. tell me, huh?”

he is rambling, untethered, himself, as he loses in his own swelling euphoria.

you sob, toes digging into the mattress because you are unable to properly vocalize the pleasure, your mind all razed by the way he fucks you, but your baby is asking you to do so, so you tell him, “s’good. baby, s’good! i feel so full an’ only you can fuck me good an’— an’ si, i’m gonna— i’m gonna—”

your orgasm hits you like a fever breaking; like you are feeling a sense of release that has never been felt before. you feel like you are suspended, floating, your skin buzzing with lightning. you don’t even know you are screaming, deaf to anything but the explosion of ecstatic pleasure.

your teeth rattle at the first spurt of simon’s cum, and he presses uncoordinated kisses on your lips. it makes you giggle, all sluggish now that exhaustion is weaving in, and it is then that you meet simon’s eyes.

they are so clear and vibrant, the way they only ever are under light. they crinkle in his smile, and you puff, snuggling close, feeling like you can drop to sleep with his cock still in you.

“love you si,” you murmur, your words sticking together in your drowsiness.

he presses a kiss on your temple and breathes you in. then, “i love you too, sweetheart.”

and the lights are still on.

thank you once again for the 15k, and i hope you have loved this the way i loved writing it <33

i was struck with the poetry, and the way wiley described the way she is loved. she started her performance with the lines: “i say, ‘i am fat.’ he says, ‘no, you are beautiful.’ i wonder why i cannot be both.” and i have never related to anything more. wiley then talks about how their relationship unfurls, and in ‘6’ (it is a list poetry), she says, “he tells me he loves me with the lights on,” and i sobbed.

so i wrote a fic of me, and i hope thats alright.

#simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley #simon riley smut #afab reader #simon ghost riley smut #cod x reader #chubby reader #suns

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girlgenius1111 · 5 months ago

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by your side

part 2 to responsibility how do you fix something when you don't have all the pieces? how do you heal when you aren't sure you deserve to? basically, r tries to work through the actions of her father, and the grief she feels for her mother. heavy angst but obviously still fluff. also hi thank you @wileys-russo your lil ideas saved this fic

-------

The early hours of the morning had been kind of a blur; one minute, you were cradled in Alexia’s arms in your house. The next minute, or so it felt like, you were being gently laid on the bed in the guest bedroom back at Alexia’s. Perhaps it was exhaustion, or perhaps it was the intense stress of the previous day, but almost as soon as you curled up under the covers on the guest bed, you were out cold. You didn’t remember leaving your house, or getting to Alexia’s. The state you were in worried your captain deeply, and she found herself hesitating in your doorway, terrified to leave you alone again.

Worry was plaguing her, taking over every molecule in her body. This wasn’t a problem Ale could fix, and she hated not being able to solve things. Especially when the issue was hurting someone she cared about. It was only when she felt a gentle hand grab hers that she was brought out of her spiral.

“Come to bed, Ale.” Olga whispered, softly tugging her girlfriend down the hall towards their room. Alexia didn’t resist very much, the allure of falling limp into her girlfriend’s arms in her bed too strong.

“I don’t want to leave her,” she argued weakly, glancing back down the hall towards where you lay peacefully sleeping. Well, sleeping at least.

“She’s asleep, and you need to be too. It’s been a long night for you, Ale, you have to let yourself rest.”

“But-”

“No buts.” Olga interrupted, all but pushing her girlfriend to sit on the edge of the bed before she got a new pair of pajamas out for the blonde. Alexia was very strict about inside clothes and outside clothes, and Olga knew better than to try to get her girlfriend to sleep under the covers in clothes that had left the house. “You can’t help her if you’re exhausted.”

Begrudgingly, Alexia nodded, taking the clothes from Olga and changing quickly.

It was only once they were both back in bed, the lights flicked off and Alexia uncharacteristically curled up with her head on Olga’s chest, that the blonde spoke again. “I can’t fix this, Olga. I don’t know how to help her.”

Olga hummed, dragging her nails slowly up and down her girlfriend’s back. “You don’t need to do it all by yourself. Tomorrow, you’ll talk to a few of your teammates. Ingrid and Mapi can come over and spend time with her, and you’ll bring Irene to go meet with her lawyer and her case worker. The less stress on chiquita, the better. You can tell the club what’s going on. Everyone will come up with a plan, and once there is a plan, you’ll feel better, and so will she. Take it one day at a time, Ale. That’s all you have to do.”

It was amazing how rationally Olga could speak about such a stressful situation. It was also amazing how quickly she calmed Alexia’s anxiety. When Olga laid it all out like that, it seemed manageable. Olga was always right, and the blonde knew that this case wasn’t different. Alexia tucked her face into the brunette’s neck, leaving a soft kiss on the skin there. “One day at a time.” She repeated, whole body relaxing into her girlfriend’s.

One day at a time. Alexia could do that. And so could you, she hoped.

The phone calls that had to be made the next day were difficult, to say the least. Alexia had to explain, several times over, what had happened. To the club, to your lawyer, to a few of your other teammates. Alexia, though, thrived in an environment where there were things to do, tasks to complete. It was easier to approach the situation in a clinical way, like it was a checklist, than to think about the feelings of it all.

She left you with Ingrid and Mapi, who were going to take you to get what you needed from your house, and picked up Irene on her way to the Barça offices. Your social worker, lawyer, the club's lawyer, and a few of the coaches would be meeting her there. That was the next thing for her to check off, yet she was finding it incredibly difficult to keep her feelings in check. She kept seeing flashes of your face when you arrived last night.

In all her years of knowing you, Alexia had never seen you do anything that was even remotely unkind. You were always always kind. It was difficult for her to imagine anyone hurting you, though she occasionally saw it happen on the pitch. What was impossible, though, was trying to figure out how your father had inflicted so much pain onto you. You were so good. Alexia wasn’t sure how, after losing your mom and enduring what you had, you remained purely good. It wasn’t fair. It really wasn’t fucking fair.

-------

“Look at you in this one!” Mapi practically shouted with glee, holding up a photo of a 5 year old you, striking a rather ridiculous pose and sticking out your hand in a peace sign. “Look at your tiny little face!”

You rolled your eyes, shoving yet another photo album into the box. Your mom had loved to take photos, and there were countless albums filled with photos of you. You’d always liked to flip back through them, especially after losing her. The way she photographed; it was as if you could feel her love in the way she captured you.The most mundane things, captured, printed, and saved forever. Everything you did as a child excited your mom, made her beam with pride. It was easier to remember that grin she’d get, when you’d do something to make her laugh, when you looked back through these pictures.

“Is this her?” Ingrid asked softly, holding up another photo, this time of 3 year old you, out cold in your mother’s arms as she smiled hugely at the camera. Your father must have taken that one. As always when you saw a photo of her, you felt a pang of longing in your chest, one that never eased with time. Sometimes, grief rushed through you with such power, you felt like you could double over in pain. Even now, even years later. That was something that never got better.

“Yeah, that’s her.”

Ingrid smiled, handing it to Mapi, who also inspected it closely.

“She looks kind.” Ingrid noted. You thought of her warm hugs, and the funny voices she’d do when she’d read you bedtime stories. The way she always put a little note in your lunch. The silly dance she’d do to distract you when you’d need to get a shot. When you’d score a goal and look into the stand and see her there, smiling proudly. Or when you’d miss a goal, and her smile would still be there, still proudly watching you play.

You still looked to the stands for her sometimes, on instinct. You missed her proud smile and her warm hugs and her kindness more than anything. Ingrid was right; she really did look kind, in a way that only someone purely and completely good could.

You bit your lip, nodding rapidly. “She was. Really kind.”

“Nena, you look like her.” Mapi said quietly, looking back and forth between you and the photo.

People never said that. Never. They talked about how you and your father were practically twins, how you had the same nose and the same mouth as him. The same hair color, the same laugh, the same walk. You were just like him, everyone said. No one ever really compared you to your mom. You always thought it was because she was much too beautiful to be compared to.

“No, I look like my dad.” You disagreed, shaking your head and taking the picture from the Spaniard’s outstretched hand.

Ignoring Ingrid’s look telling her to drop it, Mapi also shook her head.

“No, you have her eyes. Look, when she smiles? They crinkle just like yours do when you smile.” Mapi pointed at the photo, and suddenly, you couldn’t tear your eyes off it. “And that dimple on her cheek? You have that too, but only when you smile really big.”

“Really?” You asked, refusing to look away from the photo. Mapi nodded, and Ingrid voiced her agreement, too.

“You look kind, just like her.”

You squinted, seeing the resemblance finally, but not seeing the kindness. “I don’t think I’m as kind as she’d like me to be.”

“Well, from everything you’ve ever told me about her, I think she’d be very proud of you.” Mapi said definitively. You shrugged, silently disagreeing with her. There was nothing to be proud of, you thought. You turned the page, hoping for something to distract from Mapi’s statement. The photo on the next page sent a rush of different emotions through you, and you could only stare at it for a moment before you let it slip from your grip as you stood.

“Pequeña?”

“I need some air.” You choked out, practically stumbling to the front door and wrenching it open. Ingrid and Mapi looked after you, startled at your abrupt exit.

Picking up the photo album you’d dropped, Ingrid’s face melted into one of understanding. She handed it over to the Spaniard, before getting to her feet herself and heading out the front door after you. Mapi took in the photo, not needing to think too hard about why it had upset you.

You couldn’t have been more than 3, asleep in your car seat in the back of the car. The photo was from the point of view of the driver, and also captured your father, asleep in almost an identical position in the passenger seat. His arm was stretched back, hand reaching to where yours extended. You were gripping onto two of his fingers with your small fist, slumped to the side a bit in order to reach him.

It didn’t look like a particularly comfortable position for either of you, yet you were both happily dozing. Mapi took a moment, willing herself not to rip the damn photo into pieces. The same hand you’d clung onto for comfort and safety as a child had inflicted the gash and the bruises that marked your face now. How does a parent go from loving and dedicated, as your father seemed in the photos, to the man he was now? Practically a stranger to you. The family that had known you was gone, leaving nothing in its absence.

Mapi headed out after the two of you, not sure what she should say. What she could say. She stepped onto the front porch, heart melting a bit at the way you sat, with your head resting on Ingrid’s shoulder. The Norwegian’s hand rubbed slowly up and down your back, though you inhaled shakily every few seconds, crying silently.

It appeared you didn’t have anything to say, either.

-------

It was unclear whether Mapi suggested ice cream because you still had time to kill before Alexia arrived home from her meeting, if she was trying to cheer you up, or if she just wanted ice cream. Regardless, you had agreed timidly, not wanting to seem too excited as you felt they’d already done enough for you today. Ingrid had pounced on the idea, though, dragging you halfway across the city to the best ice cream shop in Spain.

You appreciated her enthusiasm, even if you were exhausted and wanted nothing more than to go ho- back to Alexia’s, and take a nap. Alexia and Olga were both still out, though, and you were quite sure no one was going to leave you home alone anytime soon.

The whole day had broken records, you were sure, of Mapi being quieter than she’d ever been in her life. Her and Ingrid didn’t try to get you to talk, not really. They just kept you company, allowing you to stare out at the ocean from where the three of you sat eating your ice cream. Well, mostly.

“Nena?” Mapi asked. You hummed, looking up from your ice cream. Mint chocolate chip, it had been your mom’s favorite. Or was that peanut butter chocolate chip? You couldn’t remember. “Do you want to go visit your mom? Where she’s buried, I mean?”

You furrowed your brow, looking a bit defensive. “What would that do?”

“You could talk to her. Or… I don’t know. It might be nice to visit. I always feel my abuela around a bit more after I visit her.”

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes, keeping your mouth shut, but the Spaniard easily clocked the skeptical look on your face. She nudged you with her shoe, keeping her expression curious and open. “What?”

“Mapi, my mom is dead. There is nothing to feel.”

“You don’t think she’s hanging around?”

“I don’t believe in God, Mapi. I don’t believe in heaven or hell, I don’t think she’s anywhere.”

You used to believe. You’d been raised religious, kept up with it casually. Until your mom had gotten sick, and you’d laid awake night after night for months, praying to God that she’d get better. That He wouldn’t take her from you. And then she was gone and you decided that even if he was up there, you hated him. God has a plan, everyone always told you that, especially after she’d died. You didn’t care about any plan, though. Not now, not then. You wanted your mom back, divine plans be damned.

She was gone, though. And it felt like she faded away from you with every passing day.

You couldn’t quite hear her voice anymore. Couldn’t smell her perfume, even if you thought really hard. You couldn’t remember what her paella tasted like, or the little song she used to sing when she’d braid your hair. You weren’t sure if the red sweater or the green sweater had been her favorite.

You felt the gap she’d left behind more than anything. You’d see something crazy happen, and think about how you wished you could tell her. Every song from her favorite artist that came out, every movie you knew she would have loved. Every goal you scored. Every game or trophy you won. You thought of her.

You used to feel her everywhere and now you were afraid that you felt her absence more than anything. The harder you tried to hold on to your memories of her, the easier they seemed to slip away. If she was still around, why did it feel like she was only getting farther and farther away from you?

Mapi interrupted your thought spiral. “You don’t have to believe in anything, or go visit anyone. We just want to help you, nena.”

“I know.” You nodded shakily. A thousand other replies swirled around in your brain, but none of them made their way out of your mouth. They were too complicated to sift through, some of them completely contradictory. Your phone buzzed, much to your relief, with a text from Alexia.

Hola, nena. How are you doing? We are almost done here, and then we can just relax the rest of the day. Maybe have a movie night? Whatever you feel like! It’s Olga’s night to cook, but everything else is your choice. See you soon. <3

Your stomach twisted with some emotion; you weren’t sure if it was good or bad. Maybe both. Hopeful, but terrified. You didn’t want to get used to being cared for. What would happen when it was taken away again?

------

The meeting had gone well, if Alexia’s relieved mood was any indication. You weren’t sure what that meant for you, though. And you were more than a little scared to ask. What if she seemed relieved because they had decided they were going to take you away somewhere? And she wouldn’t have to deal with you anymore?

You worried all through dinner, which had been delicious, though you hadn’t been able to stomach much. There were no signs that you were becoming less worked up, even as you sat in the corner of the couch, wrapped up in a very warm blanket. You’d chosen the movie, and Olga and Ale had bickered over who got to hold onto the remote.

The domesticity of the situation wasn’t helping the turmoil in your head, everything compounding to become rather overwhelming. If you were to stay, where did you fit here? Alexia sat with her arm around her girlfriend, their hands linked together under the blanket they shared, you were sure. They were in love, and had a life together. Surely, you staying would just drive a wedge between them? And that was only if Alexia even wanted you to stay.

Both her and Olga seemed to pick up on your increased anxiety, though, finally stepping in after you’d gnawed on all of your nails, and had just pulled so hard at one of your cuticles, it began to bleed. Alexia had paused the movie you’d chosen, disappearing to find a bandage, while her girlfriend turned to face you.

“Hey, pequeña? Are you feeling anxious?” Olga asked gently, fighting back a sad frown at how stricken you looked to be asked so outwardly about your feelings. Your captain returned just in time to hear your shaky response.

“A little.” You admitted.

“Is there anything we can do to make you feel better?” Alexia wondered, insisting on wrapping the adhesive bandage onto your finger herself, though you were more than capable.

You hesitated, chewing on your lip. “The meeting today… Am I staying here? Or being sent somewhere else?” Alexia’s head whipped up to look at you, which wasn’t an obvious good sign or bad sign.

For Alexia, there was never any question. You were staying with her, she’d move heaven and earth to make it happen if she had to. The blonde hadn’t thought to tell you that you were staying with her, because it had never been up for debate. Clearly, though, you were still quite unsure that your captain wanted you around.

You took her silence in a different way, though, now convinced you would be leaving, and began scrambling to assure her that it was okay. You understood. “I get it, Ale, you don’t need me around here, I don’t blame you at all…”

Alexia found her voice finally, looking frantically at her girlfriend. “No! No, nena, you are staying here. You are staying here with us, for as long as you want to. I wouldn’t have you go anywhere else.”

Your captain studied you, feeling a wave of sadness at the expression of shock on your face.

“You want me to stay here?” You asked quietly, almost disbelieving. “Both of you?”

“Yes.” Alexia promised. You fixed your attention on Olga, doubtfully gazing at her. Ale was your captain; but Olga owed you nothing. She just smiled gently at you, though, reaching out to squeeze your hand.

“I want you here too, nena. I promise.”

A beat passed, before you swallowed thickly and nodded. “Thank you.” You were barely able to keep your voice from breaking, but Alexia pulled you into her all the same.

“Don’t thank us. Just believe us.”

Nodding again, you laid your head on her shoulder, trying to ignore the tears falling from your eyes. What a strange feeling it was, to be loved. You’d forgotten.

------

“I don’t want to do this.” You said quietly, not moving to undo your seatbelt even as Alexia turned the car off. “Please don’t make me.”

Your captain didn’t want to make you do anything. She would have been content to let you stay curled up on her couch, where you obviously felt relatively safe. That’s all she wanted; for you to feel safe. There was no way to avoid what came with the legal process, though, and this was a required step.

A familiar pained expression washed over Alexia’s face. “I know. I’m sorry. We have to do this.”

The we Alexia used made you feel a bit weird. It felt mostly like a good thing; like you weren’t alone. At the same time, it was also kind of scary. There was a lack of control that came along with relying on another person, and this was not something you were used to. You only grew paler as you and Alexia exited the car. She kept a guiding hand on your shoulder, and you weren’t convinced she didn't think you were about to bolt.

“What if… what if I just talk to you, instead?” You asked, coming to a complete stop in the middle of the parking lot. With more patience than you thought you deserved Alexia turned back towards you, a sympathetic expression on her face. “No therapist, just you.”

Your captain grabbed your hand, but didn’t tug you any closer to the building. “You can always talk to me pequeña. Always. I know you really don't want to do this, but your social worker is requiring it, as is your lawyer. It sucks, I know it sucks. You just have to do your best and tell her as much as you can. And if it’s awful, we’ll find someone else.”

“If I don’t like her, I don’t have to come back?”

“No. I promise.”

“And you’ll stay in the waiting room?” You hated being so openly vulnerable, but the care that your captain was showing you was making it increasingly difficult to remain stoic.

“Of course. You aren’t doing this alone, nena. Any of it.”

As you got in the elevator, and Ale pushed the button for the therapist office’s floor, you were struck with the thought that she’d so easily calmed your fears and anxieties. Your captain had always been a comforting individual, but when you showed up on her doorstep a few days ago, you never could have expected how easily she’d taken you in. It was like second nature to her, making sure you were okay.

She made taking care of you seem… easy. You’d thought it to be a hard task for a long time. It was a bit astounding, how quickly Ale had you questioning things you’d been believing for years.

Alexia had picked the therapist, you remembered. She’d done the research and found this woman, and for some reason, that made it easier for you to walk into the office and shake the therapist, Elia’s, hand.

It was even easier when Alexia patted you on the cheek and sent you a reassuring smile. “I’ll be right out here if you need me, okay?”

With a nod, you followed the therapist into the room, feeling significantly less anxiety than you’d been feeling a few minutes ago. Odd.

-------

“Ms. Putellas?” Elia peeked her head out of the room, too professional to seem flustered, yet still clearly concerned with something.

The blonde looked up from her phone, knowing very well that it had not been even close to the full hour you were supposed to be in there for. “Yes?”

“Can you join us for a bit? We’re feeling a bit upset, and I think she needs…” Elia trailed off as Alexia lurched to her feet and practically ran into the room. You were crying into your hands, and your captain briefly thought that you’d been reduced to tears an unfair amount of times in the past few days.

“Hey, hey, I’m here.” Alexia soothed, taking a seat on the couch next to you and carefully pulling you into her arms. “It’s okay, I've got you.”

You had been trying to force your tears to stop, still not fully comfortable with being so vulnerable in front of Alexia, and this mostly strange woman sitting across from you. Your captain had such a calming aura about her, and you felt inexplicably better as soon as she took a seat next to you. Alexia was safe.

“I-I…” It was a struggle to get any words out and you weren’t really sure what you were trying to say.

“Just give yourself a minute, focus on breathing.” Alexia coached, exaggerating her own breathing as you tried to match her.

Your therapist watched with a completely impassive face as you clung to the blonde. Her job was to determine your mental wellbeing, as well as figure out if the placement you were in at the moment was the right one. She was quite sure she had her answers, only 20 minutes into the session. You were most definitely not okay. But you were probably in the right place.

It was obvious to her that Alexia was someone you trusted. Someone you felt safe with. You’d tried to just get everything out in the open, thinking if you rushed through the whole story it wouldn’t hurt as much. You had been wrong; you were barely halfway through what you needed to say before you were bursting into tears and quietly asking for Alexia. It wasn’t very common for someone who had endured what you had to so easily trust someone, even outside of the initial situation. But she could see why you trusted Alexia.

The blonde held you protectively, shushing you gently as you cried. All her attention was on you as she tried to calm you down. Not on Elia, not on the way the therapist was taking copious notes. Alexia wasn’t putting on any kind of performance to get to keep you. Her concern was genuinely only with your wellbeing in that moment.

After a few minutes, Alexia leaned you back and handed you your water bottle, encouraging you to take a few sips. Once you’d done that, you used your shirt to wipe your eyes, and turned towards the therapist; though you didn’t meet her gaze.

“Sorry. I thought I could get through that, I didn't mean to freak out.”

“Don’t apologize.” Alexia and Elia said at the same time. You looked between them, caught between amusement and annoyance that they were suddenly ganging up on you.

“You said something to me that I’d like to go back to, if that’s alright.” Elia said. You nodded your agreement, your hand gripping onto Alexia’s as if you were afraid the therapist was going to make her leave. She didn’t do any such thing, and Alexia gave your hand a comforting squeeze.

“You said the way your father acts is your fault.” Next to you, your captain inhaled sharply. “Can you explain to me why you think that?”

You shrugged, suddenly looking very closed off. Elia wasn’t sure if the question had been too much, or if you were too embarrassed to admit the truth in front of Alexia. The rest of the session passed quickly, with you giving very short answers, clearly ready to be done for the day.

She let you go early, though with homework; to try to figure out why you are so reluctant to blame your father for his behavior, and so willing to blame yourself. There was no answer, you thought to yourself. That was just how things were.

-------

It was after your first training session with the team that you brought up your idea. It had been a good day; though everyone seemed to go out of their way to give you a hug or make you laugh, you didn’t mind it. It was as good of a day as you’d had in a while, and you weren’t quite sure why you were so set on ruining it. Your captain could very obviously tell that there was something on your mind; that something had been for a few days.

You were both eating a snack in the kitchen when you finally let her in, and asked what you’d been thinking about asking for a while now.

“Ale?”

“Hmm?” The blonde looked up at you from the banana she was peeling, giving you a very soft and very encouraging smile. It wasn’t like you to start a conversation that seemed serious; normally, she was the one prompting you.

“I… I want to visit my dad. In jail.” You rushed through the sentence, as if Alexia wouldn’t understand but still agree if you spoke fast enough. No luck, though, as Alexia looked at you in surprise. This was clearly not what she had been expecting.

“No, nena, I think that is a really bad idea.” She said firmly.

“I wasn’t asking for permission.” You said without thinking. After a beat, your face flushed red and you tensed with what could only be described as fear. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to say that,”

Slightly puzzled by your panic, she put her snack down and walked around the counter to stand next to you. Cautiously, she put a hand on your back, feeling you relax at her touch.

Now that she thought about it, Alexia had never once seen you advocate for yourself. Never. And from the way you were shrinking under her gaze, you clearly thought you weren’t allowed to disagree with her, or ask for what you needed. She wondered how long it had been since you’d felt safe enough to just… exist. Live. Do things without worrying and worrying about the consequences of the tone of your voice or the things you said. Alexia knew she had to tread carefully; because while she was sure going to visit your dad would not end well for you… she didn’t want to control you.

“You don’t need my permission.” Alexia said gently. “I am not your keeper; you are old enough to make your own decisions, especially about things like this. I just really don’t think it is a good idea. I won’t stop you, nena, but I do not think you should do it.”

You contemplated, looking like you were trying to decide if this was some kind of trick or not. Would she really not be mad if you went against what she wanted? You didn’t want to risk what little peace you’d found in the past week. Nothing was worth that. You were just about to agree with her, drop the idea entirely, when she asked a follow up question, clearly trying to understand your motives.

“Can I ask why you want to see him?”

You worried your lip between your teeth, not entirely sure you knew why yourself. You just… had to see him. If there was a chance for you to get your father back, you’d take it. “If he says sorry…”

“You’ll forgive him?” Alexia tried and failed to keep the disgust out of her voice and you frowned, withdrawing further into yourself. All your captain got was a shrug in response. He’d never said it before, and there was no reason for you to think he would now, but still. You clung to that hope; it was all you had left of your family. And you were so sure that your mother wouldn’t want you to give up on him so easily.

“He’s my dad, Ale.” You mumbled, shrugging out from under her hand and wrapping your arms around yourself. Alexia noticed you do that when you were anxious, or upset; like you were trying to self soothe. She hated it. You didn’t need to do that yourself anymore, she was here, ready and willing to give you all the hugs you could ever need. You looked downright afraid of her in that moment, though, and the blonde had to school her features and take a deep breath before she said anything.

Alexia knew that if she said she didn’t want you to again, you wouldn’t go. Your captain had spent the last week analyzing all of your behavior, talking to your therapist, talking to your teammates, talking to her mother and her girlfriend. Anyone that could give her some insight into how to best help you. She felt like she understood you, on some level, now. Much more than she had before, when you’d just been her little quiet teammate, who did her best to stay in the shadows. There was a complexity to you that she’d missed entirely, but now that she saw it, she realized how desperately you craved her approval. You’d always been closer to her than anyone else, but now you were practically attached at the hip to her. Not that she minded; whatever made you feel safe.

So Alexia knew that your paramount worry was what she thought. And no matter how many times she tried to convince you that you were allowed to make this decision for yourself, she knew you wouldn’t go against what she wanted. She didn’t need to ask if you were sure, either; you wouldn't have brought it up to her if you weren’t.

With a sigh, she relented. “If that's what you want to do, then that’s what we’ll do. I can take you later today?”

Your whole body deflated with relief, and you were diving forward to hug her tightly before you could stop yourself. “Thank you.” You mumbled the words into her shoulder, beyond grateful for her understanding.

She hugged you back, tightly, the now familiar scent of her perfume overwhelming your senses. It didn’t matter how many times she offered you a hug or a kiss on the forehead or a hand to hold; you were pretty sure you’d always be surprised. It was apparent to her that you were understandably touch starved, but you still seemed a little confused why you sunk into her hugs, and were beginning to do the same with Olga’s.

“Of course, pequeña.” Alexia replied, hoping with all of her being that this wouldn’t prove to be a mistake. She had a sinking feeling it would be.

------

His face appeared every time you closed your eyes. More than his empty words, and the careless look in his eyes as he looked at you through the glass. He hadn’t cared that you visited, hadn’t apologized. He’d blamed you for provoking him, somehow. And for what happened after.

And still, his appearance was burned into your mind. You had a bruise across your forehead, and he had a matching one. You’d gotten the stitches out of your cheek the day before, and now he had some in his cheek.

You’d look even more alike, now, with matching scars on your face.

It was like as you healed, and moved on, you transferred your pain to him. Like there was no growth without forgetting. You were leaving him behind buried in grief. The people that loved you were desperately trying to pull you out, and suddenly, you felt like digging your heels in and going limp. Because he was your dad and if he was hurting, shouldn’t you be hurting too? Just as much? Why were you allowed to be happy when he wasn’t able to?

Memories ran through your mind, on repeat. His smile when you scored a goal on him for the first time. His grimace as he saw you walk through the door of your house. His hand on yours, teaching you how to hold a baseball. His hands on you, pushing and pushing; like you were a physical manifestation of his pain, and he wanted it away from him at all costs. A whispered I love you as he and your mom put you to bed after a late night. Not a word uttered while you sobbed, her casket being lowered into the ground.

Was he still in there somewhere? Buried under all the hurt and the pain and the grief, did he still love you? He had to. If he didn’t, you had only yourself to blame. For leaving the house that night and going to Alexia’s. For talking to the police. For pressing charges.

The very small logical part of you knew this wasn’t true, but the overwhelming majority of your brain couldn’t comprehend that you weren’t to blame, that he was. How could you hate someone and love someone at the same time? You were sure you did. You loved him and you hated him. You wanted to never see him again, and you wanted to go back home with him, even if nothing was different.

After everything, you still loved him. How could he not love you? How could he not care, like he’d said was the case inside that jail, with a swollen face and a broken look in his eyes.

You moved like a zombie as you exited the building, and Alexia was quick to jump out of the car and run to you. You were practically in a catatonic state as she reached you, face completely blank. She placed both her hands on your cheeks, worry only growing when you didn’t react other than to flicker your eyes up at her, and then look away.

“Nena?”

No response.

“Sweetheart, are you okay?”

Still, nothing.

Alexia was at a complete loss; you continued to stare blankly just over her shoulder. It felt like you were underwater, your captain’s words mostly unintelligible. A thousand thoughts ran through your head, but really only one broke through. Alexia was talking to you, Alexia was here. You lurched towards the safety that she brought, practically falling into her arms.

“Okay, okay, okay,” Alexia said, wrapping her arms around you just in time before you fell crumpled to the ground. “You’re alright, you’re safe. He’s locked up in there, and you’re out here with me.”

As your captain led you to the car, you wondered if a part of you wasn’t locked up there with him. If you’d ever be able to pry that piece away, and give it back to yourself.

------

“I’m gonna go check on her.” Alexia burst out, attempting to rise to her feet. A hand grabbed her arm, yanking her back down onto the sofa.

“No, Ale.” Olga sighed.

With a dramatic sigh, Alexia flopped onto her side, having been fighting this battle for at least two hours. As soon as you’d both returned home from your visit, still without having said a single word, you disappeared up to the guest room. The blonde had wanted to go after you immediately, but Olga had stopped her, encouraging her to give you time to process whatever had happened on your own. Alexa hadn’t wanted to do that then, and now it had been two hours, and she still hadn’t seen you.

“But-”

“No. Give her time.”

“I’ve given her time, amor. Two whole hours!”

“She must be exhausted, Alexia. Imagine how mentally tiring this all has to be for her. You have to let her work some of this out herself. She can’t decide how she feels if you’re hovering over her asking her the same questions she is asking herself.” As always, everything the brunette was saying made sense, though it still didn’t seem to make the midfielder feel any better.

“What if she needs a hug?” Alexia mumbled, pulling at a loose thread on the couch, glaring at her girlfriend when she slapped the blonde’s hand away from it.

“Maybe you need a hug.” Olga replied, shifting her laptop off her legs, and opening her arms for Alexia. The blonde was only able to hold out for a few seconds, her frown quickly melting away as she sank into the smaller girl’s embrace. One long hug later, Alexia evidently felt better, sliding off her girlfriend’s lap so she could resume her work. The captain reached for her phone, smiling triumphantly to herself when she read the text she’d received.

“Mapi says I should go in there!”

Olga didn’t look up from her computer. “And Ingrid? What does Ingrid say?”

Alexia’s face fell, and she read back through the thread. “To give her time.” She sighed, throwing her phone back onto the couch and ignoring the smirk on her girlfriend’s face. Another entire hour passed before you emerged from your room, shuffling down the stairs, wrapped in one of your mother’s hoodies. Alexia froze, like you were a wild animal she was going to scare off, while Olga remained completely normal, smiling at you and patting the couch in between the two of them.

“Hola, nena. Are you hungry?”

You shrugged, pulling your knees to your chest and attempting to make yourself as small as possible. Alexia continued to stare at her, and if you’d been feeling more yourself, you absolutely would have made fun of her for it. You could barely look at her, feeling horrible that you hadn’t listened to her advice in the first place. At the same time, you knew that there was no part of you that would have been able to move on without the clarity you received today. If you could even call it clarity, if you could even consider moving on.

Sensing that the two of you needed to talk, Olga rose to her feet, shutting her laptop, and affectionately ruffling your hair. “I’ll go get us some pizza for dinner, yes?”

You both agreed, although you did so somewhat begrudgingly. There was a conversation incoming, you knew, and it seemed as though it would include some variation of I told you so.

You wanted to avoid that, and for some reason, decided the best way to accomplish this goal was to just… start talking. As soon as the door was shut behind Olga, you were talking, feeling Alexia watching you carefully.

“He didn’t say sorry. He wasn’t even really that mad, he was just so… indifferent to me. He told me it was my fault, and I knew he’d say that. I don’t-. I think I would be mad at him if… if they hadn’t…”

“If they hadn’t what, nena?” Alexia wondered. Your face had a glazed over look to it, like you weren’t full there with her, but you responded nonetheless.

“They found out he was in for ‘hitting his kid’, he said. And they beat him for it. His face was all messed up, one of his eyes was barely open. He looked so defeated, Ale, and it’s all my fault.”

Alexia was immediately shaking her head. “No. He made his own decisions, and he is facing the consequences of them now. None of that is your fault. That’s what happens to men in prison that hit their kids.”

There was a note of… satisfaction in Alexia’s voice. Like justice had been done.

“He didn’t hit me.” You disagreed weakly.

“No, he broke down your bedroom door and threw a bottle of vodka at your face. He hurt you. That isn’t okay.”

“I know it’s not okay, I know that. But he’s grieving, Ale. He’s hurting too. He misses my mom just like I do, it’s not his fault.” It was as if you were pleading with Alexia to agree with you. To let him off the hook, or maybe… maybe you were pleading with her to stand her ground. And convince you of what you knew was right.

Alexia remained firm, not raising her voice even as you did so. “That is no excuse to hurt you. You have been grieving, too, and-”

“I pushed him once,” you cried, tears suddenly flooding down your face. “I pushed him and he pushed me back but I started it. It’s all my fault, all of this is all my fault.” You dropped your forehead onto your knees, sniffling and gasping for air as you tried to get a hold on yourself. You felt the presence of Alexia next to you, carefully rubbing her hand up and down your back.

“He is an adult, and you are a kid. You didn’t deserve any of this, pequeña. You don’t deserve to be his punching bag just because he is hurting. You are hurting, too, and he should be taking care of you.”

Her voice was soft in your ear, and you wanted to believe her. So badly. “He’s my dad,” you whimpered, lifting your head just enough for the blonde to see your tearstained face, the fresh scar on your cheek. Every day she had to look at it, she knew she’d never forgive him for what he’d done.

“I know.”

“I just want…I want everything to go back to how it was, before she got sick and before he stopped loving me. I want to have a parent again. It’s not fair. ”

“No, cariño, it isn’t fair, not at all.”

It didn’t quite seem like you were hearing Alexia, but she certainly heard the next words out of your mouth.

“I’m all alone,” you choked out. More than anything in the world, you didn’t want to be alone. Even if all you had was your father… at least you had him. At least you had someone. It was ridiculous and completely nonsensical, but you think you would have forgiven him for anything, found a way to blame yourself, if it meant you got to keep the shattered pieces of the family you once had. The pieces cut your hands to shreds, but you held onto them nonetheless, thinking you had no other option. That it was that, or nothing at all.

Hands guided your face up further, and you were surprised to see a fierce look on Alexia’s face. “You are not alone. You will never be alone. Mapi, Ingrid, Irene, Frido, everyone would be there in a heartbeat for you, if you needed them. No one on this team would ever let you be alone.”

Alexia spoke carefully, trying to gauge whether the words were sinking in or not.

“And pequeña, I would never, ever let you be alone. I’ve got you, now. You are important to me, I care about you, and you are not alone. I know you feel like you are, but you aren’t, you absolutely aren’t. I am here now, nena, and I always will be. For as long as you need me, I'll be right here.” She gripped your hand in hers, her rather impassioned speech echoing in your ears.

Maybe, you thought, you could put yourself back together. With your teammates help, with Alexia’s help, it could be accomplished.

You didn't think he could. With your help or without it, he was who he was. And as much as you wanted to, you couldn’t change that. If he wanted to stay in the grief, live in the past, there was nothing you could do to drag him to peace against his will. Maybe he didn’t deserve peace, or happiness.

You weren’t sure that you did, either, but that was another fight, for another day. As Alexia hugged you tightly, as Olga entered through the front door and joined you both on the couch, you didn’t feel lonely for the first time in what felt like forever. Whatever was to come, you weren’t alone in it. You didn’t believe that entirely, yet, but you got the sense that you would, one day. You got the sense that there was someone out there that wouldn’t rest peacefully until you were happy, and safe, and loved.

As suddenly as she had gone, you felt like she was back. Standing next to you in court as you testified against your father. Watching from the stands as you played some of the best football of your life.

Her hand on your shoulder as you moved out of Alexia’s spare room, a year later. A different person than the one that had shown up on her porch, bloody and entirely broken. You felt her right all over, all the time. But especially as you hung her picture up on the wall in your new apartment. The family photos wall, you’d decided.

Your mom wasn’t alone up there. She was surrounded by photos of you and your teammates. Of you laughing and holding trophies and looking like the energetic, happy child she’d known. Alexia helped you hang all the pictures up, and you had an overwhelming sense that your mother, wherever she was, approved of your new family. Maybe, she’d even sent them to you, knowing her girl needed all the love in the world. If there was anything you were sure about, it was that you were loved.

And what a feeling that was.

-------

don't really have to much to say here. let me know what you think! thanks for reading 🫶🏻🥰

#woso imagine #woso x reader #woso one shot #woso fanfics #barcelona femeni x reader #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas x platonic reader #platonic reader #mapi leon x reader #ingrid engen x reader #mapi leon x platonic reader #ingrid engen x platonic reader

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askdacast · 4 months ago

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hey block people fans, so I really love the Tanuki Joel/Smallishbeans fanart goin around as inspired by @mellozheist's design and it made me think, what youkai (Japanese folklore monsters) would we portray the other Hermitcraft/Life Series members as? Some of the more obvious and fun ideas I thought of:

Scar - Kitsune, easy. Charismatic, cunning wiles, enterprising, known for tricking people, tendency to be wet cat on the rare instance you find his weakness. Also kitsune are rivals to tanuki (although Scar and Joel aren't really rivals so much as occasional partners in crime). You could alternatively choose the bakeneko because it's also a wiley shapeshifter and cat connection (RIP Jellie).

Grian - Tengu, also easy choice. Not just for the obvious pesky bird connection. Tengu are also trickster beings. They are sometimes evil (abducting humans) but sometimes benign and teach humans secret arts. They are excellent fighters and leaders, but just like a regular crow, they can just as easily goof off for no reason at all. Dangerously capable but also goofy bird fits Grian to a T.

Mumbo - Kappa, maybe? He's not associated with water much iirc but the kappa from not iRL folklore but a certain series are associated with engineering, and I needed an appropriate one for the Redstoners lol

Etho - Kamaitachi. Weasel with sharp blades. Like a tanuki (Joel), but consistently sneaky, while also being just a little guy. Can probably team up with Skizzle and Tango for the traditional trio of sneaky people with sharp blades. EDIT: I know there's fanart of him as a kitsune to match Tanuki Joel, and I'm by no means contesting that, this is just a fun alternative.

Cleo - Yamauba/Yamanba. I'M NOT CALLING CLEO AN OLD HAG, LET ME EXPLAIN. DANGEROUSLY FIERCE AND INTELLIGENT WITCH WHO LIVES IN THE MOUNTAINS AND IS JUST AS PROTECTIVE OF HER (potentially foster) CHILDREN AS MUCH AS SHE IS A TERROR TO THOSE WHO CROSS HER.

Bdubs/Skizzleman - Oni. They beeg. They angery. They not necessarily dumb but they stronk and one of them has lived in the mountains at least once. I can even see Bdubs being like a Sakata Kintoki spoof (the "son" of a yamanba a.k.a Cleo)

Jimmy - Yosuzume. Birds of bad luck. Canary curse. Need I explain more?

feel free to give alternative suggestions or ideas for the others, or ask me what youkai I think might fit certain traits, I may not know much about the block people but I know a little too much about Japanese folklore so this is just a fun exercise for me

#mcyt #hermitcraft #life series #traffic smp #trafficblr #life series smp #japanese folklore #japanese mythology #youkai #memes #all this because of tanuki joel #smallishbeans

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eli-am-confused · 4 months ago

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I think them as a childhood group of friends cold be very fun! Like they kinda work as a Scooby Doo/Solve It Squad kinda group except most of the crimes are actually supernatural and connected to the occult (I’m sure that’s a thing i guess Gravity Falls?) thinking of calling them the Hatchet Catchers or something like that?

Anyway Duke mostly handles the “civilian” stuff (talking to witnesses and adults) and patches everyone up with the first aid kit he keeps in his bag. Holloway is also very good with adults but she mostly handles research and take-down. Wiley is more the action type but he has a way with cult members that can get kinda creepy at times. He also sews which is fun! Sheila is best as long-cons and waiting shit out, she’s also very good to have in a fight.

Here’s them as teens too. This is like a month or so before the Accident™️.

Duke(definitely lying): Sorry dad. We’ll never sneak onto an active crime scene again.

#me? making another Hatchetfield au when I was meant to work on the first one? more likely than you may think #I really like their kid designs ngl. they’re very cute kids #I’m realizing that I’ve totally forgotten how to draw teenagers tho lol #I think Duke’s dad being the sheriff is very funny in a situation like this ngl #love the idea of Duke constantly talking the group out of trouble because no one in their right mind could every stay mad at him #(Teen Holloway is hiding some incriminating evidence behind her back btw just so you can imagine the mischief they get into better)#starkid #hatchetverse #hatchetfield #sheila young #miss holloway #duke keane #wilbur cross #uncle wiley #hatchetfield au

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dutiful-wildcraft · 10 months ago

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Pack 141 - Werewolf!Price Headcanons

Tags: monster au, sfw, werewolf!price, mentions of gore and body horror, loose a/b/o dynamics, possessiveness, scent marking, fluff, werewolf lore sprinkled with pack 141 interactions

-A born lycan. The shift was as natural as breathing. And he quickly showed the temperment of an alpha.

-Shifts to the outsider can appear gruesome. As the wolf quite literally emerges from within, human flesh falling away like a gristly chrysalis to reveal the beast beneath. Traditionally, this shed flesh would be devoured, though it isn't commonly practiced today. The flesh disintegrates quite quickly once shed.

-This being said Price can shift in degrees, often enhancing his own claws or teeth for defensive purposes rather than shift completely.

-No, the clothes do not magically pop back on once he's done. Shifting completely is inconvenient and typically a last resort. It's difficult to strip in the middle of a fire fight, let alone find his tac bag stark naked after it's all said and done.

-For born wolves, this shift is generally smooth and quick. For those bitten, it is this first shift that often leads to their death. Around 75% of those bitten do not have the bodily fortitude to withstand the change.

-as a born wolf, Price's enhanced senses are also perfectly integrated, and require no sensory aids for him to navigate his daily life unlike the majority of bitten wolves.

-born wolves have a tendency to remain in seclusion, within the safety and comfort of their pack. When a new alpha is born they typically either stay to take over leadership, or stake out a new territory to build their own pack.

-John was quickly ostracized when he showed little interest in either of those things. He seemed to be far more preoccupied with exploring both the world and his own strength. The military amongst the humans would do quite nicely.

-During his tours there would be fleeting encounters with other monsters, typically enemies. But a few comrades as well. Such as Nikolai, a bear shifter. The pair of lycans got along beautifully.

-Now, despite his former pack's opinions of him, John had never explicitly said he didn't want a pack, just not their version of a pack. No. John had a different idea in mind.

-Simon was the first. A strong and brutal human, who had shown an endearing gentleness in certain circumstances. Price had decided immediately that Simon would belong to him. He just needed some final paper work to build his pack task force. He had even settled on changing Simon himself, despite the risks. A bloody vampire had beaten him to it. Price was hardly angry that Simon's humanity was taken from him, just that Simon had to suffer in such a way to get there. At least Price had the pleasure of siring the newborn himself.

-Next had been Soap. A wiley thing with a blatant disregard for orders and big blue eyes that were far too pretty to be all human. Price couldn't decide if he should scruff or praise him for his cheek. But Soap had an excellent knack for mixing things that should absolutely not work, into something that would cave a warehouse in seconds. Along with a distinct aversion to touching certain metals with his bare hands. His peculiarities had earned him a nickname, and also given him away as a Fae. Price would have him too.

-Garrick followed not long after. Sharp and driven Gaz. Incredibly clever with a proud determination that blazed behind those warm brown eyes. Gaz's skills made his inner wolf purr in delight. Another lovely thing for him to keep. Price was taken with him immediately, and had never felt more at ease than with the sergeant he had stolen in Piccadilly.

-While he could tell from Kyle's scent that he was something Other. Price would only receive cryptic answers or riddles that only made the younger sergeant chuckle as Price failed to guess correctly. (Price would totally not make up excessively silly answers to see the sergeants pretty smile, oh no).

-It wouldn't be until they were stranded in an excessively hot desert that Gaz would reveal himself. Price had emerged from their tent to see Garrick, posted up like it was summer vacation, with a brilliant golden wing curled over his head to shade him from the sun. A long tufted tail flickering back and forth out of a small cut in his fatigues. Gaz had looked up from his book, golden slitted eyes peering over his aviators. Flashed him a toothy grin. “Wanna make another guess Cap?”

-Price has a vicious possessive streak, and he plays it incredibly carefully in the beginning of the task force. He watches his vocabulary when talking about the “team.” His pack. Perfect, strong and beautiful. All of them. Chosen carefully. He was careful not to spook them at first, worried his possessive language would put them off. But they are, for all intents and purposes, his.

-His possessiveness had manifested subtly at first. Scent marking them. Brushing shoulders or gentle touches as he passed them. He would even resort to smoking beside them if touching seemed out of the question. At least his smoke would soak into their clothes and hair.

-As they fell together it became less subtle. Price couldn't resist sinking his teeth into their flesh as they writhed beneath him. Suck bruises along whatever flesh he could get his mouth on. It was a pro and a con that his boys all healed so well. While his marks did not remain for long, it meant he could only mark them up sooner.

-He loves that their scents all intermingle, really. But he can be stubbornly adamant that his scent is the most notable. Often catching Soap or Gaz to tug into his office, kissing the breath out of them, only to curtly send them back out, freshly scented and a bit dazed. It's a fair compromise considering Simon often hogs the sergeants to himself.

-Simon often seeks him out of his own volition. Coming to his office to sit quietly, work on his own reports and bask in Price's scent of spilled ink and warm honey. Or sneaking to his room in the night. Slipping off the mask to bury his nose against his throat. No biting. Just breathing. His scent a balm to the younger vampires frayed nerves.

-Price takes an immense amount of pride in caring for his pack, and takes his job seriously in protecting and providing. Gets immensely distraught when one of his mates is hurting. Knowing no limits in showering them in comfort items and love.

#captain john price #werewolf!price #john price #monster au #pack 141 #poly 141 #poly task force 141 #john price x kyle gaz garrick #john price x john soap mactavish #john price x simon ghost riley #pricegaz #pricesoap #ghostprice #call of duty #captain price

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chillinglyadventurous · 2 months ago

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Spooktober Day 5 - “Was that a scream?"

You were down in Ford’s lab helping him with a new type of gadget that would be helpful in tracking anomalous activity when Dipper and Mabel had stormed into the lab. They wanted to the two of you to go monster hunting. Dipper had learned about a new cryptid called the Shadow Stalker. Ford had declined, but insisted that you go along with the kids, Wendy, and Soos. He had said it would be good for you to get some fresh air.

As you were leaving, Ford stopped you, grasping your wrist, “Call me if you need anything.” He pressed a small kiss to your temple, “That thing can get a bit wiley.” He placed a walkie talkie in your hand. “Go have fun. Be safe.”

Once night fell, the moon hung high in the sky over the dense canopy of pine trees. He fog was thick and the flashlights the gang was carrying barely cut through it. You were thankful for a cool night, unsure of how long you’d be out there or how far you would have to trudge deeper into he Gravity Falls forest.

“So, what’s the plan again?” Wendy asked. Her voice was calm as always as she led the pack, cutting brush out of the way with her axe.

“We’re looking for the Shadow Stalker,” Dipper said matter-of-factly. He held up Journal 3 for you to see. Ford’s sketch of the thing was enough to send a chill up your spine. It was a large, humanoid creature with glowing red eyes. It almost reminded you of the hide-behind. “It’s been spotted in these woods for centuries. It’s drawn to sound and movement.

Your body stiffened, “Great.”

Mabel gasped, startling you from her place to your right. You gripped her hand in yours to stop her from skipping ahead of the group, “Ohhhhh, spooky! I hope it’s friendly.” She reached ino her backpack and pulled out an extra sweater. She hugged it close to her chest. You knew she had knitted it that morning for this very occasion. It was made up of black yarn and the words ‘You go, Shadow Stalker!’ on the front, “Do you think i’ll like it, [Y/N]?”

“Of course, sweetie,” sure it would like it, if it didn’t eat you. You plucked the journal from Dipper’s hand, “Ford have anything in here about how dangerous this thing is?”

Dipper shrugged as he took the journal back from you, “Can’t be that bad if he let us go alone.”

You scoffed. You loved that man, but he had also given a twelve year old a crossbow before. He almost gotten his and Dipper’s brains devoured by an interdimensional math wizard. Needless to say, you immediately expected the worst. You squeezed the walkie talkie in your hand that wasn’t holding Mabel back.

One second, everything felt fine, but the next your flashlight went out. Wendy’s was next, then Soos. Finally, Dipper and Mabel’s flashlight gave out. The five of you stood in the darkened forest. You couldn’t see much in front of you despite the moon hanging overhead. You could make out the shape of the twins, reaching for both of their hands. You could see Soos’ silhouette creep closer to you before feeling his hand on your shoulder. Wendy moved closer too.

“Oh, dudes,” Soos spoke up from right behind your ear, “not trying to freak anyone out, but the vibes of the place are way off right now.”

You nodded. The air was suddenly thick and you felt like you were being watched, “Yeah, I’m with Soos on this one. Something about this feel wrong-”

Before anyone could respond, you heard a loud crash of branches behind you. I was so loud that the five of you froze in place. Soos bumping into the back of you. You held your breath as you remembered Dipper’s words. It is attracted to sound and movement.

A loud screech filled the air then, the five of you huddled together in the middle of a moonlit clearing. Mabel hugged you around the waist. Even Dipper had clutched onto you tighter.

“Was that a scream?” Mabel whispered against your shirt.

You looked down at Dipper as he began to speak, his face pale with fear, “It didn’t sound like an animal.”

The eerie silence that followed was thick and oppressive, as if the forest itself was holding its breath. Every sound felt amplified—the rustling of leaves, the creak of branches in the wind, even the shallow breathing of your friends around you. You felt a cold bead of sweat form at the back of your neck.

“I don’t like this,” you whispered, your voice barely above a breath.

Dipper flipped through the journal faster, scanning the pages, “This is exactly where the sightings have been reported. If that noise was the Shadow Stalker, we might be too close.”

“Too close for what, exactly?” Wendy frowns, pulling out her axe.

Dipper swallows hard, “It’s said that once you hear its call, it’s already hunting you. We need to be still and quiet. Any noise, any movement, it’ll know.”

Mabel, usually the carefree one, took a step closer to you, her eyes wide. “What if we—”

Before she could finish, another crash, even louder this time, reverberated through the trees. The sound is followed by something far more chilling. A low, drawn-out growl, deep and prima echoed from all around you, making the little hairs on the back of your neck stand on end.

“Dudes, that’s definitely not a squirrel,” Soos muttered, inching closer to you, Wendy, and the kids.

You could feel your heart racing, your pulse thundering in your ears. ‘Ford should be here,’ you cursed, but you didn’t say it aloud. He should have known this would happen. Lord knows he knew everything and always made sure you knew he knew everything. He should have come with you. Wiley. Yeah, that was an understatement. Instead, you reach for your walkie talkie, the one lifeline you knew you can count on. Your fingers trembled as you turned it on, “Ford, do you copy? Over.”

A few seconds pass before you hear his voice on the other side, a flash of relief washing over you, “are you okay? What happened? Over.”

“We’re too close,” you whispered. Your voice was low, but urgent, “We think it’s here. We need you. Over.”

Another brief silence followed. The rustling behind you was getting closer. You could almost hear the gears in his mind turning, “Stay right where you are.” His voice was steady and calm. He was doing his best to not freak you out with the slight shake of his voice, “I’ll be there soon. Don’t make any sudden moves and keep quiet. Turn your walkie off. Over.”

You shut the walkie off and put it into Dipper’s bag, feeling a small sense of relief knowing that Ford is on his way, but you also know it might not be fast enough. The growling sounded closer now and you swore you saw something moving in the shadows between the trees, something tall, with glowing eyes.

Wendy stepped in front of the, her axe at the ready, her stance solid, “We’re not just going to wait around to be eaten by this thing, right?”

Dipper shook his head, “No, we just need to stall until Ford gets here. We have to stay still, no running.”

The growl turned into a low hiss and then the shadow seemed to shift. Out from the darkness, a figure emerged. It’s tall, towering over you, its body thin but impossibly long, covered in what looks like shadow itself. Its glowing red eyes scanned the group. The air grew colder. The Shadow Stalker.

Every instinct was telling you to run, but you forced yourself to stay still apart from pushing Dipper and Mabel behind you. The creature’s eyes focused on Soos, shaking so hard that you can hear the rustle of his jacket.

“It’s looking for movement,” Dipper whispered, barely moving his lips. “Stay calm. Stay-”

Before Dipper could finish, Soos stumbled backward, tripping over a tree root. The sound loud, a crack of branches and a thud as he hit the ground. The Shadow Stalker snaped its head toward Soos, its eyes glowing brighter. It gave a bone-chilling screech. It moved quickly, unnaturally fast, as it closed the distance between it and Soos in an instant.

“No!” Mabel shouted, unable to hold back her panic.

Just when it seemed like the creature is about to reach Soos, a blinding flash of light burst through the trees, hitting the Shadow Stalker in the chest. The creature screeched, recoiling as if burned by the light.

“Get away from them!” Ford’s voice boomed through the clearing as he emerged from the shadows, holding a strange device that hummed with energy. His face was set with determination. His eyes focused on the creature as it stumbled backward.

“Ford!” you cried out, the relief almost overwhelming.

Ford glanced at you, his expression softening for just a moment before he turned back to the Shadow Stalker. “Stay behind me, all of you!” he commanded, his voice sharp and authoritative.

You rushed to his side, your heart still racing as you pulled everyone behind you, but the fear you were feeling eased knowing he was there. Ford tightened his grip on the device in his hands, the light from it growing stronger. The creature hissed again, retreating further, but it circled, waiting for a chance to strike. You pressed the front of your body to Ford’s back. Dipper and Mabel were pressed firmly to either side of you. Soos had his own face buried in your back and Wendy clung to him.

Dipper, still holding the journal, tugged on Ford’s trench coat with wide eyes. “How do we stop it?”

Ford kept his focus on the creature as he adjusted a dial on the device, “We don’t kill it. We contain it. I’ve been preparing for this. I just need to hold it long enough to activate the trap.”

Mabel’s voice trembled, “What if it gets out?”

Ford glanced down at her, his expression serious, “It won’t. Not if we do this right.”

The creature howled, but Ford stepped forward to leave you feeling abandoned. His device emitted a soft hum that filled the air. The Shadow Stalker screeched in response, but Ford held his ground, a confident figure against the darkness.

“Stay close to me,” Ford said softly, his hand brushing against yours as he steadied himself. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”

You nodded, feeling a strange sense of comfort despite the danger. You’ve always trusted Ford, but in moments like this, you realized just how deeply you rely on him. You squeeze his hand briefly before stepping back, trusting him to finish what he started.

With a swift motion, Ford slammed the device into the ground and, suddenly, the forest floor around the creature began to glow. Strange, glowing symbols arose from the earth, forming a circle around the Shadow Stalker. The creature let out one final, earsplitting screech as the symbols pulse with light, trapping it inside the glowing barrier.

Ford took a deep breath, his shoulders relaxing as the creature struggled to break free, “It’s done. It won’t be bothering anyone again.”

You let out a breath, your body finally relaxing as you threw your arms around him in thanks. Your nose was pressed firmly against his chest as you sighed with relief, “You saved us. Again.”

Ford chuckled softly as he pulled you from him. A six-fingered hand caressed your cheek, “I told you I’d always protect you.”

You both grinned when Dipper, Soos, and Wendy let out a groan of disgust. Wendy told you to ge a room. Mabel, though, laughed wildly, “Awwe, they’re so in love! How can you gus be grossed out? They're adorable.”

“So, uh, what now?” Soos asked, rubbing his arm where he fell.

Ford smiled, clamping his hand on Soos’ shoulder, “Now, we head back to the Shack. I’ll deal with this creature in the morning.”

As you all began to make your way back through the woods, you stayed close to Ford, your hand still in his. His presence was like an anchor, grounding you after that shock. It had been a while since you had a good scare, but the darkness of the forest didn’t seem as menacing anymore, not with Ford by your side.

“Next time,” he said quietly, leaning in just enough for you to hear, “you’re staying in the Shack with me.”

You laughed, the tension in your chest finally releasing, “I’ll take you up on that.”

#dipper pines #stanford pines #mabel pines #gravity falls #wendy corduroy #soos ramirez #gravity falls soos #gravity falls x reader #stanford pines x reader #ford pines #ford pines x reader #spooktober

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