#simon 'ghost' riley x reader x johnny 'soap' mactavish

[quarterlifekitty]

What kind of slasher are they?

cw: violence, slut shaming

Ghost is like Michael Myers or, Bobby from Sorority House Massacre. The reasons for what he does aren’t explicitly clear, and he’s not about to tell you why he’s doing what he’s doing. His kills are indiscriminate and he doesn’t even relish in them— it’s just something that needs to be done. He’s pursuing you because you are (or at least resemble) someone important from his life before. And he has unfinished business with you.

Gaz is like Pearl (from Pearl) or Patrick Bateman— he kills to cope with the meaningless mundanity of his life. He’s meticulous in his appearance and knows he’s not like everyone else— he just can’t be. There’s something rotten inside, so he has to be beautiful on the outside. You’re spared because you don’t play by the rules that he knows society to operate on. You listen when he speaks, you don’t just wait for your turn to talk. There’s something behind your eyes when you smile. You’re real, and he isn’t, and you need to be preserved.

Soap is like Freddy Krueger or the Driller Killer (from Slumber Party Massacre 2). He’s the man of your dreams, and above all else, he’s here to have fun. Usually that means goring pretty things like you and turning them into blood fountains, but if you happen to be more fun alive than screaming for mercy and impaled? He’ll probably wanna keep you around. Too bad about all your friends, though.

Price is a resident killer, like Vincent from Motel Hell or Chuck Connors in Tourist Trap. It’s you who walks into his domain, and it’ll be the last mistake you ever make. He’s nested quite nicely, and made the perfect system to kill, process and dispose— all with a smile and a family name that makes him beloved in the small town. You’re spared because, well… it’s about time for him to settle down. And of course you’re none the wiser now, but when you’ve gotten used to everything? He wants you to help him.

König is like Jason Vorhees. He kills because you’ve done something bad— a violation of his own personal code of ethics. He’ll strike swift and true, clearing out all of the filth from his own little corner of the world. You’re spared because you’re such a good girl— just the kind his mother would’ve loved. You’re not like one of those whores traipsing around in his woods… No, he’ll save you from all of those bad influences you find yourself surrounded by.

[codnasties]

p!link collection 2 👻🚬🧢🧼🪦🗡 (🌽 links)

ghost 👻

ghost loves the feeling of his balls twitching as he's burried deep inside of you, filling you with his cum

pulling your hair, locks tightly wrapped around his hand as he pushes his dick deeply into you is like second nature for him

send ghost soapy tit pics and you are getting videos of his soapy dick and balls. and he's actually hung

· · ────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ────── · ·

price 🚬

price's big body fully swallowing yours as he passionalety kisses you and whispers dirty words as he's balls deep

he can't help but love your plump ass. slotting his dick between your cheeks as he cums on your back

price keeps a fleshligh in his desk drawers to help him through long paperwork nights

· · ────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ────── · ·

gaz 🧢

the one view gaz enjoys more than anything is the one of your ass jigging every time it hits his thighs as he fucks you

'gaz is a romantinc slow fucker' nope, he fucks roughly and nasty. if you aint' sore the next day then he didn't fuck you

kyle garrick is an avid car sex enyojer, making you ride his dick or bending you over the dashboard to eat you out

· · ────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ────── · ·

soap 🧼

johnny makes messes. covering your body with his cum, creating a piece of art out of it

soap blowing up your phone with horny messages and audios but he tops it all of with a video

soap gets so distracted by ass, he may be balls deep in you and just loose track of time because of playing with it

· · ────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ────── · ·

graves 🪦

graves sending you a video of what you are missing on while he's away: heavy dick wrapped in a condom

he isn't home much, so when he is he doesn't care that you are working from home, he fucking you anyways

graves ends up punishing his bratty partner a lot. his afve is fingering you until you make a mess

· · ────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ────── · ·

konig 🗡

dick so big that is impossible to properly suck him off :'( barely fitting the tip of his grithy cock on your mouth

mutual masturbation with konig, but he gets so blissed out he forgets the 'mutual' part

· · ────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ────── · ·

makarov 🐺

he fucks nasty and possesively, chocking you, slaping you and whispering how much of a whore you are

[callmecoke]

Thinking of the first time the 141 discover you on a website for Sugar Babies...

TW: Sex work, specifically being a sugar baby. Mention of insanity, but it's mostly exaggeration; this one's pretty SFW, but I would proceed with caution because the subject matter is adult. Not Proofread!!

This is the first instalment of something I’ll continue writing about!!! And also my first post!!!! Yipeeee😆😆😆

I’m thinking about one tired, slow, dull day with our favourite 141 boys as they sit around waiting to receive orders and go-tos from higher-ups. They’ve done everything they could to pass the time: Polished and prepared the weaponry, sorted and stored old files, and Simon even got desperate enough to fold, wash and tuck in bedding for the second time. But eventually, they ran out of little distractions and were left waiting for orders that might never come. Bit by bit, it was driving them mad. The first to snap was Gaz, who was already pacing up and down the base like a madman. Out of desperation, he grabbed his laptop that he hid under his bed and opened it. He knew he wasn’t allowed to access electronic devices while at base; frankly, he wasn’t even supposed to have them at all. But Price couldn’t be bothered to chastise his sergeant, as he was equally starting to get desperate for some action too. 

Gaz just started opening tabs, looking for anything to pass the time. He wasn’t sure what his goal was other than to find something that might quell his building insanity. That’s when he saw it. Some sort of…dating website? No, not entirely that. It was filled with livestreams, gorgeous younger men and women just talking. He looked further and found it was some kind of sugar baby service where people could come on and interact with lonely rich fellas with cash to spend. Interesting, but not his thing. He was about to exit the page when he spotted your livestream. You were attractive, no doubt about that, but you also seemed a lot more nervous than the other ‘sugar babies’ on this website acted. Like you were new to all this. Your live stream was just you sitting on your bed with the laptop in front of you, only having a dozen or so viewers at most. Curiosity struck him, and his finger moved to click on your livestream. 

The audio of you talking played out of the speakers on the laptop, making the other three men's heads turn in Gaz’s direction. You spoke softly, careful with your words as you talked about yourself and your day, answering questions now and again. It was intriguing. You had each of their attention with the way you spoke. None of them had spoken to a civilian for months. Outside of the 141, they barely even saw another human being with the way they were stuck there. So hearing your voice felt like singing angels to them, one that came to pull them out of the darkness of their minds. Soap and Simon silently shuffled to where Gaz was and leered behind him, watching you talk over his shoulder. Price continued to sit on his side of the room, but he was still entranced by your voice. Even ordering Gaz to turn up the volume if it got too quiet.

Gaz soon realised that the livestream was nearing its end. You hadn’t earned a lot of money, and you were slowly losing steam. But Gaz was desperate. He needed to hear your voice again. To talk to you, speak to you, interact with you somehow. His fingers moved before his brain did, and he input his card details into the website faster than the speed of sound. You had to pay in order to leave a comment and interact on this kind of website, so he tipped you a healthy sum of cash before typing out the quickest sentence he could to get your attention.

“Do you have a boyfriend?”

[iskinpeople]

OH? THE ENDING??

god going on a date with johnny whom you matched on tinder and he's the type of guy you avoid like the plague; jaw-dropping good looks, cheeky ㅤㅤsmiles, hits the gym more in a week than you've done all year and worst of all, could charm the pants off a snake.

so it's truly no wonder that you end up letting him bury his face between your thighs and lap at your glistening sex until your moans almost turn into screams and you haven't even left the bar's driveway, then left to watch johnny wipe the condensation off the windshield with a spare shirt so he can drive you home all the while his chin drips with your slick.

he fucks you against the front door once inside, legs hooked over his arms, then again over your couch, hand curled around your throat, and again, in front of your full length mirror while he tells you how pretty you look taking all of him, to look at how pretty you look, his crystalline eyes latching onto yours through the reflection, pretty as a peach.

then he leaves you with his spend sticking your thighs together, a languid kiss that tastes of you, and with his personal number on a scrap piece of paper.

and that's the last you hear of him. he'd said that he's quite a busy man, military and whatnot, and all in all, while you'd raked your nails down his back on the first date, it had been a date. you require more than good sex to get into a committed relationship.

a swipe of your thumb brings up tinder again, and you match with another bloke not your type. big, broad man, biceps the size of your thighs with a deadpan stare that sees right through false bravado. but he's doesn't seem to care in the slightest that he makes you nervous, doesn't care that you stutter out responses to his rather abnormal questions.

simon takes you home and sits eerily silent with his hands dwarfing the steering wheel as you chew on your lip before tentatively inviting him in for a nightcap, and you must be the luckiest person on the planet because he's just as devoted to your pleasure as your last partner.

he brings you peak after peak with his tongue, his fingers, swirls your pearl with the tip of his misaligned nose. then he lets you be on top first, concentration knitting your brows togethee as you try to fit all of him in and pride warms your cheeks when you can hear his teeth audibly grind as his fingers bite into the soft of your waist once you take him to the root, thighs flush against his hips.

you come undone more times than you can count, the neighbors more than likely knowing his name by the time he walks out the front door (after checking the locks on your windows) and that's that.

until it isn't because a text from johnny awakens your phone screen, an invite to a restaurant downtown next saturday, one you've only ever fancied of eating at and well-

a date is a date, isn't it?

you tell him to pick you up at seven and he tells you to wear something you wouldn't mind letting him keep underneath, preferably something in red. (must've seen that particular number while you looked for some sleeping shorts before he left that night.)

hopefully you won't feel too bad breaking things off with whoever doesn't ask you to be theirs first.

(simon and johnny fuck each other to the thought of you back at base, simon's fist viciously tight around johnny's cock as he's got him drooling into the flattened pillow, almost like she's fucking you too, eh, johnny?)

[ghouljams]

feel free to ignore this if it is too much, i had this thought bc worms but

i think simon would be really into johnny wearing their afab partner's underwear

Johnny in lingerie is...

Look it doesn't even have to be your underwear, Simon will buy Johnny lingerie just to see him in it. There's something really special about seeing his thick cock straining against silk panties, the ruddy tip poking over the lacy edge, pre-come starting to turn the fabric translucent every time he tucks himself back into the panties. Not to mention the way the lace garter set hugs Johnny's waist, the dark hair on his stomach poking through the holes in the lace, the garters themselves straining against the flex of his thighs. Johnny's favorite part has to be the bra though. He likes the way the lace pulls against his nipples, the light scratch of it, the way the straps frame his chest and make his pecs look bigger. Johnny will spend hours in front of the mirror, slowing pumping his hand up and down his cock at the sight of that lacy bra over his tits.

Simon's favorite part is watching Johnny fuck his poor edged cock into your cunt, shucking the panties down just below his balls so that your slick marks up the lace and mixes with Johnny's pre-come on the already damp fabric. Really lovely to see your squirt dripping off the lace around Johnny's waist, making his hair shiny with your spend so that Simon can lap it off. Something about cleaning up his partners' mess... He likes feeling useful to the two prettiest people he's ever slept with.

[cherie-doll]

Hellu, could you maybe do a drabble or hc or whatever you feel comfortable with, of the cod men reacting to reader being in a car crash??

(I was just in a car crash, my head hurts, I’m coping 💀)

If not then that’s okay ❤️❤️

my goodness, are you okay dear?? ૮ ㅇㅁㅇ ྀིა

𓏲 Price, Ghost, Soap, Gaz, Roach, Alejandro, Rudy, Phillip Graves, Makarov, Keegan, König, Horangi, Nikto

🝮 Price finally got some downtime to rest and catch up on his sleep debt at home. You insisted he stay home while you go to the grocery store only a few blocks away. Now imagine how his body tenses and he's up from the recliner in a heartbeat the moment he receives the phone call about your accident. He's supposed to drop the tense and hard face off while he's at home with you but this is worse. He's trying to keep calm on the surface but a can of worries within, just wanting to spill out. Thankfully, the accident didn't result in fatalities nor major injuries. He's holding you and checking you all over, listening to everything you're saying. Does something hurt? Feel dizzy? Need water? He's taking you right home, don't worry about the wrecked car.

🝮 Simon's mood when he picks up the phone initially is that he's annoyed, his answering "yes?" is a little sharp because you had just had a small argument over him once again not paying attention to the list of items you insisted he take when grocery shopping but didn't. So now you had to pause everything and go get the thing yourself, which means he'd have to wait at least another hour before he could eat dinner. Your voice over the phone was weak and scared, your frail voice that barely answered because your mind was all over the place and fading. You couldn't think straight after the crash. Simon dropped everything and staying on call with you made it faster than the cops would've. He carried you out of the car and cradled your body in his arms even in the ambulance, all the while muttering lowly how reckless you could be and how stupid and idiotic he was for letting you drive while mad. He swears he'd never let it happen again.

🝮 Johnny wasn't expecting you to answer with "was in a car crash" to "how was your day?" Like why are you telling him just now that you're arriving home. He gets off the couch he's by your side in an instant. Why didn't you call him? Because you thought it was nothing big? He almost thinks you're bluffing, why he can't help but assume the worst or imagine a terrible accident. You're sitting down this instant and- did you go to the hospital? And if you did he's surprised they just let you walk out. You argue back that you barely got a bruise but he insists you're going again and getting an examination done just in case. You have to tell him these things else he'll have a hard time letting you go out alone again.

🝮 The only thing Kyle knew was that you'd be hanging out with friends. And that's how it was supposed to be, he could expect you to come home late in the evening or maybe nearing night. But the clock marked the midnight hour and you hadn't walked through the front door yet; very unusual of you. He paced the living room from one wall to the other, he had the right to be worried so he wasn't being a controlling nor clingy partner if he just wanted to know where you were past midnight. The worry only increased when he called and it went straight to voicemail. Okay, maybe your phone died. And he kept trying to come up with plausible reasons as to why you weren't home yet when the bell rang and he threw the door open to a distressed looking friend of yours explaining the car accident you had been caught up in. You were conscious when taken away but in pain, your friend was still explaining this when Kyle grabbed his shoes and was already walking to the driveway.

🝮 Roach and you frequented bars pretty often and usually took a cab home. You hadn't had more than one drink however and decided to drive home while he dozed off in the backseat. He woke up to the sound of tires screeching and before he could make out what was happening his body was jerked and thrown forward. Groaning and rubbing his neck he called your name only for you to weakly respond. A soft gasp left his lips followed by his fingers reaching out to the bleeding gash, blood staining his fingertips. When he called emergency services and had you taken to the hospital, the cops has questioned how the accident happened and he was ready to take the blame on insisting you drive despite both having consumed alcohol. He knew there wasn't any other believable lie he could sputter, surely the one drink you'd had would show up on the tests.

🝮 Alejandro didn't think it'd ever happen to you. An accident bad enough that you had to be taken to the hospital? He's there as fast as he possibly could get there. He ignores the nurses who are trying to tell him that you're okay for the most part, just a little shaken. But he's checking you all over and almost loses it when he sees a bruise, demanding for the doctor. It takes you forcibly holding him back and holding his head so he can meet your eyes and see that you're fine, you're not in severe pain. From now on you're not driving anywhere alone because he doesn't another scare like that to happen again.

🝮 Rudy is worried sick when you insisted on driving the last stretch of the way home, at night too. Your driving skills are passable during the day but at night it can be difficult to tell from the high beams of other car's lights flashing at you. When you tried braking at a stop sign you saw last minute, due to the ice already forming on the road the car didn't come to a complete stop and nearly skid off the road. His hand instinctively reaches across to hold against your body, making sure you don't fly forward despite you having the seatbelt on. It's just instinct for him to protect you in every situation. He gets off, running over to your side and the time doesn't matter anymore. He'll sit out on the hood of the car however long you need to recover from the close call until you're ready to go back home. Except he's not letting you drive.

🝮 Phillip was waiting at a second location for you to come pick him up after his car was getting fixed for something. He wouldn't have bothered you but the repair shop was half an hour drive away, something was just bound to happen. And he doesn't realize this because his mind is so preoccupied with the petty shop owner over what was the problem with his truck that when his phone rings and he picks up he sounds a little mad, not at you though. Soon he hears a dispatcher's voice instead of yours his mind goes to the worst place. Don't know where he gets the car from but he's speeding down the highway praying that you're fine and he gets to you. But he gets there and sees you sitting on a strip of grass off to the side of the mess and holding an ice pack to your head.

🝮 Makarov is hiring a chauffeur to drive you everywhere and anywhere you need from here on out and finding out who was the idiot who rammed into the back of your car while at a stoplight. He can't believe you didn't ask the other driver for their information, doesn't matter though, he'll get the information later. Maybe you should quit going out altogether, no? Okay it was worth a try, whatever you want. From now on you have to promise to not ever get into an accident ever again. "How am I supposed to control tha-"

🝮 Keegan didn't freak out after you told him you just veered off the main road and were now stuck in some rundown road. He calmly gathered whatever tools he thought he might need and started his truck. The scene he encounters when he arrives is somewhat off, you're waving him over, sitting on the hood of your car with a sheepish smile. He walks around the car and finds the dent on the side and back of the car. And before he can ask what the hell happened- shit, you're bleeding? You're going to have to start from the beginning if you don't want him ignoring your requests and taking you to the emergency room instead.

🝮 König left the car parked with you waiting for him in the passenger seat, and when he came back he sees his car in pieces, absolutely destroyed from a car speeding off the road and ramming into the side. He panics, tries to pry the door open to get to you, even breaks a window before you're tapping him from behind. "I'm right here" He turns around, lifts you off the ground and lets out a sigh of relief. He seriously thought he would have to search through the wrecked car for you. How had you even gotten out? You saw stray cat and got out before the car had been hit. But now you have to be the one worrying over König's hand and forearm which has glass embedded.

🝮 Horangi blames himself for the car crash. He wanted to teach you to drift because you'd seen how he does it and you're eager to nail it too. Things escalate rather quickly and it's no longer a smooth Saturday drive when you loose control and drive off the road, the tires slipping onto the grass and slamming sideways into a tree. He's holding your head, not knowing if you're got knocked out unconscious or not, but his mind doesn't fully register the bigger dent is on the rear doors not the driver nor passenger side. With one hand he's holding your head to his chest, his other shaky hand attempting to dial emergency services, feeling faint himself before you come to and look around confused. He's grabbing your face in his hands looking you all over making sure you didn't receive a single bruise.

🝮 You assumed Nikto would be cross if he saw the state his car was in. He was hesitant to let you drive out alone knowing you still went a little hard on your turns and it had been raining frequently. The moment he arrives, you're fixed on his eyes, carefully determining whether he's already thought of what he'd do to you the moment he saw the disaster his car was. But you're surprised and speechless when he strides over to you, silently looks you over, barely assesses the car and just picks you up. "Aren't you mad?" "About what?" "Your car!" And he barely glances at it, shrugs and drives you home.

[starsofang]

CALL OF THE SEA / PART TWENTY

pirate poly!141 x f!reader tw: NSFW, MDNI, brief violence/gore, some heat ngl, some inaccuracies but it is indeed fiction masterlist a/n: let's pretend i'm not a day late and act like this is a surprise. surpriiiise!

When a group of unhinged pirates invade your small village, you're whisked away from your peaceful home and thrown on to a voyage out at sea. Forced to obtain a new role as their medic, you have no choice but to accept your fate as you join their forces and aid them in their treacherous travels.

There was a strange sensation deep within your core when you began to gain consciousness. A lingering feeling, something that tugged you in an undiscoverable direction. It felt like a string, pulling at you, luring you to someplace unknown when you couldn’t begin the venture to discover it.

It nagged at you in your sleep and only grew more bothersome when you woke.

Your surroundings were unfamiliar when you opened your eyes. The room you were in was small. The walls appeared to be made out of old wood that had seen better days, the telltale sign of withering as if rain had been its slow destroyer.

A candle-lit lantern sat beside you on a table, flickering daunting shadows along the walls. Besides that, a messy desk was filled with scattered pages, scribbled with words you couldn’t decipher. Perched along the wall on the desk, a collection of various jars and glasses sat, each filled with contents you couldn’t recognize.

It was dim and cold, only a furry pelt covering you from the hips down while your arms rose with goosebumps from the lingering chill in the room. The cot you laid on was far from comfortable, though the only thing it caused was an ache in your back that pinched when you moved.

The more you observed your surroundings, the more it began to look eerily similar to your old room back in your village. The strange jars, the unkempt work on the desk—it all felt so familiar, as if you had teleported back to your room in a dream.

A brief spike of fear rose within you when you noticed that you were alone. Your crew was nowhere to be found, nor were there any clues as to whether or not you were trapped within another nightmare that had shifted from its usual storyline.

Instinct led you to move, quick to lift the heavy pelt from off your body. Except, when you pulled it off, the first thing you noticed was how little your discomfort was from moving. As a matter of fact, there was none of it at all—only soreness from lying so still for God knows how long.

The crushing pain that you’d been tortured with had ceased to exist, as well as the hairs on your neck no longer standing up as if a shadow had been behind you at all times, lurking.

You lifted a careful hand, slowly inching it to your injury—only to realize it didn’t hurt. Your fingertips brushed against your skin, cool to the touch whereas before it was flush and warm. You dared to even dig your fingers lightly into you, washed over with surprise when nothing bit back at you.

You don’t recall much from when you last fell into sleep to now. It was hazy, like a misty fog was clouding up the chambers of your mind. The only thing that you could sense was that lingering pit of familiarity, as well as a touch of something weary that made your heart beat just a little bit faster.

You threw your legs over the side of the cot, standing on shaky legs that forgot the act of balance for a brief moment. It felt new to stand on your own once again with little struggle after having been trapped in Price’s bed for long enough that it tested your sanity. There was none telling just how long you’d been cooped up on this new, mysterious cot, either.

Testing the waters, you slowly contorted your body into a long, healthy stretch, feelings your tender muscles and rattled bones shift and pop. While you were entirely joyful to be back on your feet, it raised the question of how.

Whatever injury you had that had been injected with a ruthless venom that Graves bestowed to you shouldn’t have you healed so quickly, even with a visit to a medical off shore. You knew how impossible it truly was. Healing would’ve taken weeks, if not months.

So how on Earth were you standing, unharmed?

“You look well.”

Nearly jumping out of your skin, you turned to see an unfamiliar woman stepping into the makeshift hut. She was old and withered, wrinkles lining her face, but her eyes were kind, albeit tired. She was a small thing, almost what one would imagine at the mention of a witch, like stories you’d heard as a child. Silly ones, anyway.

Her shoulders were hefty with a smaller pelt than the one you had around you, its fur as dark as night. Her clothes were otherworldly, as if she’d gathered random fabrics and threw them together on a whim. Nothing about her seemed ordinary. Dare you say, she reminded you of Mary.

She was a stranger, yet you felt compelled to feel at ease.

“Who are you?” you asked, suspicious.

She smiled a toothy grin, gaps staring back at you. “Your boys brought you here to get you fixed up. How do you feel?”

You wiggled your fingers and toes for good measure before responding, “I am alright, but I fear I do not understand.”

The woman stepped further into the room, taking slow paces. Her age was undetectable, but the stark grays in her hair told you she was much, much older.

“There is much I do not understand either,” she replied. She made her way to the cot you were laid upon, taking a seat on the edge.

Your eyes followed her every move, remaining frozen in place. You dared not to move away in fear of offending her, nor closer out of weariness.

“I do not know why you’ve come all this way when this was something you could’ve done yourself. Dove, is it?” she asked.

The name had you tensing, and before you could grow concerned, she stopped you. “That is all they call you. Dove this, dove that—it was not hard to figure out.”

You slowly let your guard fall back down, but only slightly. Price would not allow them to take you to someone they did not trust to leave you alone with. Then again, it rose the question—where were they?

“I am confused,” you muttered, furrowing your eyebrows.

“About which part?” she questioned. The lingering tone felt a bit like a tease, as if she knew she was ruffling a few feathers. “Not to worry. They are resting in beds I’ve prepared for them. You had a long journey, I heard.”

She gave you no reason to doubt, but you could not be blamed for doing so anyway. You were in a strange place, healed far too quickly for normalcy with your crew out of sight. Graves embedded that fear within you, following you everywhere you went like a menace.

“How did you do this?” You gestured to your side, where the dress you wore was torn to reveal the once tarnished skin while the rest hanged loosely off your body. It hurt to know the dress was ruined, but it was the least of your worries. “This is not a possible heal. It would have been a process for me to properly recover. I would like an explanation.”

The woman looked surprised, raising her thin eyebrows and glancing between you and your bare skin. “You do not know?”

“Pardon?” You threw her a just as bewildered look.

“That is why you have come all this way?” she asked. “Because you do not know?”

“I am not quite following,” you confessed, deflating.

“The gift,” she remarked. “You do not feel it?”

“I do not know of this gift you are speaking of,” you retorted. Being hidden in the dark just like Price had done to you before was sparking something in you. You were growing impatient.

The woman tapped her long fingernail against her chin, muttering to herself. The flashy rings adorning her fingers winked back at you. “You feel something, don’t you?” she asked, waggling her finger. “That sense of knowing, like you have been here before. There is something here that seems… familiar. Am I correct?”

Her tone held a touch of accusation, as if she knew she was reading you like a book. You narrowed your eyes at her, setting your jaw taut, just as Price would do when presenting himself as tough.

“I am not a woman who entertains mind games,” you uttered, putting on a brave front. “If you are to explain a thing to me, it should be with haste.”

She smiled, contrasting the soft edges around her eyes that gave them a subtle sweetness. With the gaps in her teeth, they were unkempt, a hint of decay rotting around the edges.

“You have spirit,” she noted, seemingly pleased rather than annoyed. “You will need it if you are to be a healer, of course.”

“How did you know that?” you accused, stiffening.

Though you didn’t know her, she acted like she knew you. As if you’d been friends for ages, reading you like an open page, bookmarking your inner workings inside her head. You didn’t know how to feel, but you knew it didn’t feel great.

“That is what you are,” she said ecstatically. As she spoke, she stood, stepping towards you with her finger jammed in your face. “That is the gift I speak of. The hands of a sorceress, gifted with the God’s will to heal. You are nature’s force, one who shall lead others to the way of fortune. You do not feel it?”

This woman must be crazy. She was speaking of pure sorcery, the very thing had landed you with shattered bones and an infection so malicious, it tore you from the inside out.

You glanced at your hands, stretching your fingers and furling them into fists. They certainly did not look like magic hands, nor ones given a blessing. You weren’t buying it, though, how would you have been healed so quickly?

The more you thought about it, the more the dots connected. Though the idea was outlandish, it wouldn’t be the only odd thing you’d experienced—Graves was a paradox on his own.

The desire you had since childhood to help others, going as far as to be deemed as the outcast of the village in order to venture into the world of medicines and herbs, made sense. The urge to heal more than your ability, though only a mere pupil in the works, was always an overwhelming one, something you wished you could pursue.

Performing your job above and beyond, healing the sick and poor. Just as the prophecy stated.

When the realization hit you, your breath caught in your throat, eyes blowing wide.

Graves targeted you because you were the medic spoken of in the prophecy. Everything Price had thought, down to the day he captured you, was right. Whereas he was searching for a medic, somehow, he knew it was you. Rather than killing you like he’d done many others, he brought you upon his ship and invested his faith in you.

“How?” you asked, choking on a breath. “How has this happened?”

“It does not simply happen, child,” she explained, satisfied. “The Gods choose who they deem fit. It is them who bestow the gift upon us. They seek the ones who hold purity and good. Your soul was bright in your past life, shining the way for others who could never escape a world of darkness. This is what you’ve been given in return.”

You were given the information far too quickly. It was difficult to swallow, knowing others were depending on you. Of course, that’s what you wanted all your life—but the truest part of it was much more heavier than you’d like it to be.

“Us?” you repeated back, confused. “Tell me you do not mean—”

“We are sisters in that aspect, child.”

“That is how I am able to stand right now?” Your fingers grazed your healed skin again, taking in the smoothness. Not a scar or bump left. “It was you?”

“You are not the only one of your kind. There are others, though uncommon. It is not safe times for us, but,” she paused, glancing down at your side, “I see you have already figured that out.”

“You know of Graves?”

She smiled once more, though it looked more like a grimace. “We all know of the Devil of the Seas.”

And a devil he was. He was rotten, his core decayed and filled with maggots.

“I am to cease his plan,” you said, lips turning into a scowl. “It is written in the stars, and I cannot escape. But… I do not know how.”

“Time will only tell, child,” she assured kindly. Her wrinkled hands reached for yours, taking them in her grasp. Her palms covered yours, smoothing over your skin. “You will know. Perhaps you already do.”

You let it sink in, thinking back on everything that had happened thus far. Your nightmare came back to you, feeling the burning heat of towering fires that you’d relived over and over until it was engraved in memory.

There was something in your village, waiting for you to discover it. You knew it, but you could now admit the defeat of having to return to the ruins.

“Your… abilities,” you began, hesitating on the word. You weren’t sure what to refer to it as. Power? Sorcery? It was unclear. “How do you use them?”

“That is for you to learn and adapt,” she said sympathetically. “It would not be much of a gift if they were all the same. Just like your current path, you will also figure out your specialty—with time.”

“And my men? They do not know?”

Her smile turned into a mischievous grin, her chubby cheeks mushing up. “Your secret is yours to tell, my dove.”

“I am happy to see you all resting well.”

You smiled as your crew quickly rustled in their sleep, shooting up in alarm. It was a pitiful sight, really, seeing the four men smushed into uncomfortable cots on the hard floor, all sprawled in different positions that shouldn’t have been good for their necks.

“Dove,” Soap said first, grinning boyishly. “Look at ye.”

He stood immediately, scooping you into a bone-crushing hug. It knocked the air out of your lungs, but you awkwardly returned it, patting his back.

“Thought you were a goner, aye?” Gaz teased, looking over to Ghost beside him and nudging him with an elbow.

Ghost did nothing, only standing to shake off his rattling bones and grunt in response.

The Captain rose as well, appearing much less exhausted than before. The bags under his eyes had fainted enough to where they weren’t screaming at you, though he looked a bit scraggly, his hair strewn about. His endearing appearance did nothing to hide his worry, though.

“You’re feelin’ alright, dove?” he asked, hesitating.

You slowly released your hold on Soap, who took a step back. Stood before them, you could only hope you looked much better than before. Your hair needed care, yes, and your skin was crying out for a warm bathe, but you would stick with that for now. Feeling no more pain was your main concern.

“I am well,” you assured, giving him a small smile.

Your answer brought him the calm he needed, his shoulders visibly relaxing. Gaz seemed to match his relief, though you knew he was trying to hide it. After all, you still didn’t know what to do about… that.

“I’m sure Thea’s cot was not comfortable by any means. We may return to the ship, now that we know things are alright,” Price explained. Ghost seemed rather chipper at the idea, if it wasn’t for the gloomy cloud practically circling him just from being away from his home.

“Thea?” you asked, curious.

“Her name,” Price replied, quirking a brow. “Did she not tell you?”

You sucked your teeth, face showing a tint of displeasure that you attempted not to make noticeable. You owed the poor woman. It wasn’t your fault she shared news you weren’t prepared to hear.

“She has told me plenty,” you murmured. The men mirrored confused expressions. “Captain.”

“Yes, dove?” he answered.

“I requested something from you,” you explained. His confusion grew further before it dawned on him. “I do wish you would do it.”

“What request?” Gaz pitched in. Soap murmured in agreement, Ghost only side eyeing the bunch of you as he silently listened in.

“My request to return to my village,” you replied. Soap opened his mouth to retort. You knew immediately what he was going to say, so before he could, you raised a hand, successfully cutting him off. “I know it is ruins. That’s the point. There is something there that we must see. I believe it’s important.”

“How do you know?” Price pushed. He hadn’t asked you why the first time, but now that you were on your feet and conscious, he felt it was safe to question.

You frowned to yourself, recalling the horrible memory. As if on cue, you could feel your skin warm, like you were still pitted under flickering flames that ate greedily at your flesh and bone until you were nothing but ash.

“I saw it in a dream,” you said quietly.

Ghost scowled, shooting up from his cot. It was the first he’d done anything other than grunt and shift since your return. “This is goin’ on too long, Price. Let me kill the Devil and settle the score. He’s playin’ games I want no part in.”

“It was not Graves!” you exclaimed, hushing Ghost. He threw you a look of confusion, his eyes telling a whole story while he remained concealed away inside his mask. “At least, I do not think so. It was… different. I could not feel Graves with me in those dreams.” You glanced between them, silently pleading. “It was my village’s calling, not him. Please, I must know what it wants.”

“Have we not learned this before, dove? Huh?” Ghost asked, tossing his hands in the air. His body grew tense, tone clipped as he spoke. “He’s foolin’ you just as he has before. There’s nothin’ but fucked up bodies and rubble. That’s somethin’ you want to see again?”

“Ghost, that’s not fair,” Soap tried, frowning.

“It is not due to Graves,” you defended, hands balling by your sides. “Something is leading me back and I believe it is in our best interest to check. What if it has to do with the prophecy?”

“The prophecy?” Ghost laughed, bitterness spilling out of it and spewing at you like toxins. “Best interest? Your best interest is goin’ to get you killed. You were already on the brink of it, mind you.”

“That was not my fault,” you muttered, feeling your irritation growing.

“Of course it’s not your fault, dove,” Gaz assured, but Ghost was quick to wipe it away.

“We’re already pullin’ at strings here. At this rate, you’re goin’ to get yourself a permanent mark on his list, and we won’t be able to save you from it. You need to think,” Ghost continued. His frustration was written all over his body language, the way his hands shook as they furled and unfurled, his shoulders moving with every word.

“That’s enough,” Price snipped, silencing the both of you. “If there’s a slight possibility that somethin’s there to help us with Graves, then it’s a possibility I’m not lettin’ go. This is for dove, and for you, Ghost. Have you forgotten that? It is not only about her. It’s about you, too. You’re in this mess just as much as her, just as much as us.”

Ghost scoffed, turning his head away and crossing his arms. He said nothing, resorting back to his own personal isolation, appearing to have nothing more to add.

“Let us just return to the ship,” Gaz inquired. “Perhaps it will clear our minds to be back at home.”

Soap nodded in agreement, as did you, albeit stubbornly.

Price let out an exhausted sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I want no more bickerin’. This is not a fight between us. Am I clear?”

You only nodded once more, grumbling quietly to yourself. Ghost huffed but agreed nonetheless.

“Then let’s get you back, scrounge up somethin’ to eat, yes?” Price offered, and the sound of a fresh meal had all your anger dissolving.

Everything fell back into normal routine rather quickly. After shoveling down your meal, you were left satisfied with the outcome of what’s transpired, grateful to be alive and walking. Ghost still had a prick in his spine, but he slowly relaxed into his normal(ish) self, calming from the burst at the thought of Graves’ early return.

Soap had been your lap dog since your return, hovering on your heels and following you wherever you went. Though it was a bit ridiculous, you appreciated the care and thought your crew had for you, especially after a near loss.

The only thing able to stop it was Gaz, approaching you after dinner and shooing Soap away like disciplining a child.

“Might it be too much to ask of a few minutes of company tonight?” he asked. It was strange to see that subtle nervousness hiding in his words.

“Joining you to stargaze again?” you asked, feigning disinterest.

“Of course. What else is it I do around here?” he quipped, causing you to snicker. “If you’re not feelin’ your best, you can rest. No pressure, aye?”

You pretended to ponder, pursing your lips and tapping them with a finger. “I suppose I have the energy,” you retorted. “Though, I’m sorry you do not have your telescope anymore. It must not be as fun.”

“It’ll be fun,” he dismissed with a smile. “It is must more fun with you there to observe with me, anyway.”

The subtle chivalry had your heart racing almost immediately. Being bedridden and facing such dark worlds within your head had you nearly losing a piece of you, but Gaz always brought back that mischievous spark.

“I do not think it will be fun while I am looking like this. It may take away from the beauty.”

Gaz snorted, rolling his eyes and gently grabbing your shoulder to lead you along. “Funny.”

You grinned as you followed, approaching the usual spot you always found him in. The day was long, as were the weeks with nothing to stare at but the walls, and you knew a change of scenery would be the real cure.

He plopped down on the deck, and you joined him, dangling your legs over the ledge just as you’d done before. Nothing had changed, and for that, you were grateful.

“There will be no quarrels tonight,” he said lightly. “I believe you need a break from that.”

“Please,” you sighed, relaxing.

Your body felt weightless for the first time in weeks, and you took advantage of the moment, allowing the chilly breeze to glide along your skin. The quietness was welcomed, your mind going mute, void of any thoughts of Graves or a roaring fire that had trapped you in its grasp.

Gaz knew it was what you needed. He always seemed to know.

“You have to open your eyes to enjoy the sky,” Gaz piped in, tease in his tone.

You peeked your eyes open after they’d fallen into rest from the sheer calm of the moment. You glanced over at him, holding back a smile. “I am enjoying the moment. You may enjoy the sky.”

“Tch,” he sounded, returning to stargazing quietly.

Silence fell over you, one that was comforting and stable. It put you completely at ease and you realized how much you missed the peace. Your life was turned into a living hell once Graves stepped into your life, but for the night, he seemed to grant you your moment of clarity. How generous he was.

“Suuure is pretty out,” he murmured to himself. Your smile crept on your lips as you opened tour eyes once more.

“You are trying to tempt me to watch the sky again,” you accused, raising an eyebrow.

“Is it workin’?” he asked, leaning towards you and cocking his head.

“Not very well.”

“Ach, c’mon,” he huffed, nudging your shoulder. “I have done you plenty of favors in the past, yes? Grant me one as well.”

You feigned annoyance, though your smile gave you away. “Just this once.”

Gaz grinned back, seemingly pleased with himself. “Thank you.”

You did as promised and turned to the sky, peering up at the blanket of stars. Just as before, they shined beautifully, and it made you wonder why you hadn’t looked at them before in your village.

“You didn’t let me kiss you last time,” Gaz said suddenly, keeping his eyes trained to the sky.

You stiffened, growing embarrassed at how quickly your heart reacted to his words.

“No chance for a redo, is there?” he continued. He finally turned a side eye to you, glancing at you from his peripheral.

You could tell he was treading carefully while simultaneously going all for it. It was making you both nervous and excited.

You could never deny the way your heart yearned for your crew in its own interesting ways.

“I… have kissed the Captain,” you replied quietly, avoiding his gaze with the stars as your excuse. “Or more so, he has kissed me. I do not know if that will mess things up.”

“Why would it?” he asked, and he seemed so unfazed by it that it made you question if you’d read things wrong. “You’re a silly girl to think it would, dove.”

You briefly recalled Soap encouraging you before you fell into a heavy sleep. You confessed to him the feelings that left your sanity growing slimmer, and he had simply told you there was nothing wrong with having multiple infatuations. You had never heard of it before, only ever seeing the loyalty between two people and never another, yet, Soap would never lie to you for the sake of it.

“It will not mess things up between us, then?” you questioned, growing uncertain.

As if he could sense it, he smiled, easing the pit in your stomach. “I’d be a stupid brute if I ever let it,” he replied calmly.

You hadn’t even realized he’d shifted closer, his right thigh pressed against your left. You felt the heat of his skin radiate from beneath his pants and shift on to yours.

It was hard to deny yourself the pleasure. You’d been stricken with illness that left you weak and vulnerable, loneliness creeping in like a shadow to haunt you while you remained there. In the times there was nobody there to watch you as you slowly grew sicker, you’d find yourself wishing to see one of them, to cure the aching hole in your heart that Price had only begun to fill.

You felt selfish for wanting more.

“Perhaps just one,” you whispered, nearly furling in on yourself in shame.

Gaz could see the gears in your head begin to break down, and he wouldn’t have it. His hand came to rest along your jaw, slowly lifting your head to face him. You had no choice but to meet his gaze, locking eyes.

“Nothin’ will happen,” he murmured softly. “I promise.”

Without a moment to breathe, he leaned in, soft lips locking on to yours as if you were the drug he couldn’t live without. He was warm as he grew closer, his arm coming to wrap around you and press you against him, scared you’d run away.

You wanted to do anything but run. Everything about Gaz was so euphoric, lighting a fire beneath your skin that seemed to burn with a fever. It was absolutely striking, to be kissing the one who granted you nothing but calm in a roaring sea.

Unlike Price, where circumstances were ideal, with Gaz it seemed almost too perfect, and you’d lost track of time, losing yourself in him.

It was only when you were out of breath, lungs screaming for air did you pull away, sucking in little gasps to grant them mercy.

Gaz’s pupils were blown, lips glossed over with your mixed saliva as the moonlight casted a shine over them. It lured you in for more, but you feared too much all at once.

“Soap wanted you to join us tonight, but perhaps you should bed with the Captain,” he breathed, catching his own breath.

You froze, throwing him a concerned look. “Have I done something wrong?”

Gaz’s lips curled into a loose smile. His chest heaved and his cheeks ached, and if you weren’t worried, you would’ve told him he looked downright sinful.

“Not at all,” he assured lightly. “But I do not know if I will be able to stop myself if you’re to sleep in our quarters. I have wanted that for a while, and I fear I’ll get greedy for more if you stay.”

The realization dawned on you, that he was referring to more. As much as the sudden boldness had your stomach rolling somersaults and your mind infecting with temptation, your embarrassment for being so oblivious to it was overpowering it.

“You do not wish for me to room with you?” you asked, eyes darting down to his lips before quickly diverting back to his eyes.

“Oh, that is not it, dove,” he laughed breathlessly. “It is my mind tellin’ me that. I will not be able to sleep beside you, knowing it is anythin’ but what I want to do.”

Your skin warmed up, fighting off the chill in the air. You stared at him, lips parting to reply, yet nothing came out.

Price was gentle with his kiss, which came as a surprise, seeing as he is a brute of a Captain—a warrior, a killer to those at his mercy. Yet, Gaz had been the one to test the waters, dipping his toes in before diving right in. He was being risky, and he didn’t even seem to care, not one bit.

“That…that is dangerous,” you whispered, averting your eyes from him, though it was the last thing you wanted to do.

“I’m a pirate, dove,” he reminded with a grin. “Trust that sleep would be the last thing we’d be doin’.”

You sputtered on your own words, unable to even muster proper ones. Gaz found humor in your shyness, snickering loudly. He released you only when you nearly burst at the seams, brushing a knuckle against your cheek before letting it fall.

“You do things to me, dove,” he said, voice growing softer. “That is what’s dangerous.”

You found the strength to look at him again, noting the tenderness that filled his gaze. He looked at you as if you had captured the stars for him, and it had your heart lurching out of your chest.

“I’ll tell Soap you wanted a quiet night,” he continued, smiling softly. “You’ve had a long few weeks. Perhaps you should get some proper rest, now that you’re well.”

You nodded slowly, stuck in a daze from both the kiss and his words. They stuck to you like glue, trapped in your head in a permanent repeat.

“I… enjoyed your company, Gaz,” you confessed. “I am glad we were able to have a moment to ourselves after so long.”

Gaz looked surprised for a moment before he melted into gratitude. “As am I, dove. Now go on.”

You smiled at him, one which he returned, and you stood from your usual spot on the deck, making your way back to the Captain’s quarters with your heart fuller than it had been before.

[hidingwhere]

John Prices wife coming to pick him up at the airport after he returns from a mission, but the car is now full of military men.

One look at the three boys, completely exhausted and pulling their phones out to book a taxi had your heart crying. Without thinking, you offered them all a lift to yours and Johns home for them to stay overnight.

So now there’s three men cramped onto your three backseats, John having the luxury of sitting in the front. Simon is on the end (still in his balaclava but luckily not the skull mask because you’d be a little creeped out seeing that every time in the rear view mirror), Johnny in the middle and then Kyle on the other end. Johnny complains for about 10 minutes that he’s squished in and has no room to move but after that he’s completely zonked out on Simons shoulder.

Your music plays quietly through the speakers and they’re happy to listen to anything that isn’t gun shots or explosions.

Once you arrive home, they all climb out the car, grabbing their bags from the boot and dumping them down in the living room.

“Place looks less lifeless than last time I was here,” comments Johnny.

“Finally got a woman’s touch to it,” adds Kyle.

You smile a little at the non-direct compliment. Price also looks around, noticing the little details that have changed or the things that have been added around his house, keeping a hand on your back. He leans down and kisses you gently, mumbling “I missed you” against your lips.

“I missed you too. But it looks like you’ve lost weight.” You glance down at his body. “I’ll fatten you up again,” you tease with a little giggle as he chuckles.

It’s around 9pm by the time you’ve cooked dinner for four people who have appetites of bears. They all look at you as if you’re an angel sent from heaven when they see the food, sitting down at the dining table silently and scoffing down the meal.

By 10pm, you go into the living room thinking they’re all watching TV but instead they’re all asleep. You grab some spare blankets from beside the sofa and cover them up except for John. You shake him awake and make him move upstairs into bed with you. There’s no way you’re letting him sleep on the sofa and not with you after weeks apart.

[alkaline-wtr]

Dirty Talk 141 Head-cannon

Description: How I imagine the boys would feel about dirty talk. Warnings/Genres: 141 x fem!reader, smut, blowjob, fingering, pwp, head-cannon WC:742

** A bit rough but I just wanted to get this up. Enjoy.

Soap: Johnny enjoys dirty talk so much, in fact, he does most of the talking. While you lie on your back pinned into the mattress by his body weight, he spews a string of praises through heavy pants and grunts. Needily bucking his hips into you.

"You like that, huh, feeling me inside you? You feel so good Darlin'. So wet for me, yeah?"

Each sentence comes out as breathy whines. The words nearly caught in his throat as he struggled to keep a steady rhythm. You feel Johnny's length deep with each sloppy thrust.

"Fuck,"

He whimpers,

"I'm getting close darlin’ you just drive me crazy every time."

You could hardly get a word in if you wanted, but you don't mind much.

Gaz: For Kyle, dirty talk is useless and unproductive. He doesn’t care to hear your filthy mewls when your mouth is better suited for other activities.

His 'Shut up and take it' attitude leads him to find any way he can think to keep your tongue occupied, whether it's giving you a couple of slender fingers to suck on or guiding you to your knees the moment you start to speak.

Your eyes ogle the spot of his muscular chest where your palm is splayed out.

“Don’t speak baby, just use that pretty little mouth of yours to show me how you feel huh?”

No more needed to be said, you're eagerly taking his cock into your mouth, coating it in your saliva so your hand glides along his shaft with ease.

You can’t help but gaze up at Kyle through your glassy eyes to watch as he bites back moans. A hand holding a fist full of your hair to make sure the tip of his cock reaches the back of your throat.

"See Darlin'?"

He grumbled. Words weren’t necessary when the gargled moans that vibrated around him were validating enough.

Simon: It's not that he doesn't like dirty talk, but rather, he uses it as a form of measurement for his performance.

After all, if you're able to form anything more than strangled moans and incoherent babbling, slipping curses out under your breath about how good it feels to have his cock buried deep inside your sopping cunt, or how hungrily he laps at your overstimulated clit, then he just isn't doing well enough.

His only goal is to have you shaking with beads of sweat glistening over your soft skin. Your mind is too clouded by ecstasy to remember your own name. Words were just that, a meter to indicate your level of pleasure in that given moment.

"Oh, Simon,"

you exhale.

"Feels good."

Your content hum was too stable for him. He picks up the pace, two of his knuckles pressing deeper into you, curling in time with his thumb that circles your clit.

The gasp you let out as you squirm against his palm is reassuring to him. It isn't much longer that you try and speak again, Driving Simon to add another finger, fucking into your bucking hips so hard that you can't help but close your eyes and grip the sheet. The only noise left in the room besides the wet squelching of your tight cunt, is the squeals of pleasure replacing your intended pleas.

Price: John is his own type of animal, his tip just barely nuzzled against your heat. You can squirm and whimper all you want,

"You'll have ta use your words, sweetheart."

He teases,

"Please, please. I just need to feel you already I can't take it anymore."

Your pussy aches and throbs with the need to release. It's been almost an hour of this. John edges you for as long as it takes, only continuing when he deems your begging and pleading to be satisfactory.

"Come on sweetheart you can do better than that."

The mischievous chuckle that follows frustrates you even more. For an older man, he seemed to have a little too much patience and stamina for this type of thing. And your guess was as good as anyone's on what he wanted to hear for you to finally cum.

Still, you continue to try, fighting through the overstimulation. You weren't sure if your jumbled words had met his standards or if maybe he just pitied you seeing the tears forming in your water line. But he leaves you writhing and screaming out his name as you ride out your most intense orgasm yet.

[willowed-wisp]

stitches [simon ‘ghost’ riley]

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x reader/you

Hopefully this doesn’t suck and makes sense for the most part. Thanks for anybody that reads this 🥰

WARNINGS: smut, descriptions of injury, body insecurity… a bit of plus size!reader

When you joined the Special Forces, you didn’t want to form attachments.

That was the only rule you held yourself to.

As a medic back at base, you thought it would be easy. Alas, fate had other plans in the form of Task Force 141.

Lead by Captain John Price- who had handpicked you for medical support- to stay back at whatever base looked like- whether it be a van or a safe house.

With that, you lived with the boys. John Price, Kyle Garrick, Johnny MacTavish and Simon Riley. You kept yourself to yourself at first, not confident among four SAS soldiers nor in yourself. Knowing of them only.

So you planned to stay huddled in the corner and quiet.

Then in the middle of the night, you came face to face with a black balaclava and a gruff voice, “Ya good?” You only remember the nightmares… more so flashbacks. They were relentless- creeping in the recesses of your mind, waiting for times when stress peaked. Unfortunately this entire ordeal was nerve-wracking.

You only noticed the warm hand on your shoulder, instinct led you to stare past the noir covering the majority of his face and into his eyes. Caring eyes.

He had no need to check if you were okay, he didn’t know you but, nevertheless, it was nice to see the lieutenant as something other than a looming figure.

The seriousness became too much to bear for you, “Do you sleep in that thing?” Using humour to take the edge off- well trying to.

“Soundly,” Earthy, rugged… British yourself, he sounded awfully English. That was when your eyes dawned on the clock- the time more specifically. 02:01.

“Do you sleep at all?” Another attempt but he didn’t laugh- your smile faded, maybe a tad intimated. He wasn’t exactly small.

He stood away, no longer crouching at your bedside. How tall was the guy? You tried to hide the wonder on your face, “Better than you… when I do get a kip…” Some pain in those words. “Better get some shut eye, Y/L/N… see ya at dawn.” You slept better knowing at least someone in 141 had your back.

After that you started integrating more with the lads. You learned that Johnny could clean his messes up exceptionally well, and that’s why he was called ‘Soap’. Price still thought the name was bullcrap but alas, not your problem.

You also noticed that Ghost never showed his face. Black face paint shrouding the skin showing around his dark eyes or his sunglasses. You preferred the face paint.

He had a habit of watching you from across the room chatting with Soap and Gaz- you blocked any possible avenues of relationships. Not that they’d be interested in you (your own thoughts). You didn’t find yourself attractive or good enough. A bit too much weight, you continued to think.

It was a good thing, you couldn’t get distracted.

That was until that day…

Supply checks… stock up on the sterilised needle and stitch thread. You barely had any use to 141, just a glorified nurse who had no business being given a code name.

“Stitches! It’s LT!” The brash Scotsman bolstered his comrade over to the gurney in the impromptu medical van. Blue eyes flashed over into yours, hulking the larger man to lay on his back.

Ghost wasn’t having any of it, attempting to sit up only for more blood to gush from his thigh. You rushed into action, “Soap, get us out of here,” said all too calmly for someone under such pressure. The man did as he was told and they were off. Meanwhile, you had pushed the lieutenant down on the bed. He grunted in pain each time he made a move, “For fuck’s sake, stay still so I can fucking see.” Blue gloves on, as he stopped wriggling, “Thank you.” You were still unimpressed but at least he listened. Unbeknownst to you under the mask he donned a pained smirk- unaware you could be so commandeering. Almost proud of you.

A grunt paused his pride, “Fuck…” Through gritted teeth. Your fingers working the tweezers with expert precision.

He went to sit up, your left hand pressed against his sturdy chest- pushing him down, “Want me to snag your femoral artery, Ghost?” In no time, a red-coated bullet laid in the metal tray and he sat there in his boxer shorts- watching you work and hitching a breath each time the needle breached skin.

They were the gentlest hands that had ever worked on him. “What happened?” Eyes boring into his as you cast off the stitch.

“Someone got the jump on me, should see ‘im,” you smiled at that, able to tell he was too. By his eyes.

The ones you dreamt of every night- except when the terrors returned. Johnny was too heavy of a sleeper to hear you, but Simon’s eyes were what you woke up to. In the flesh. He never asked what they were about, just comforted you.

When your deployment ended, and you returned home… you missed the guys. And his warm eyes whenever you returned to the land of the living.

Johnny contacted you. A pub crawl in Scotland, apparently Gaz, Price and even Simon were game.

Turns out you and Ghost didn’t live too far away. In ten minutes, a knock at your door and you met that deep gaze. “Johnny only just message ya, didn’t he?” He shook his head in disbelief. “I’m drivin’ us, don’t trust Gaz’s deathtrap…”

“Well… I just need to grab my stuff,” He started to walk away up the path to his 4x4. “You can come in and wait if you wanted?” Who was he to turn you down when you asked so nicely.

He helped you with your bags, “You sure ya gonna get through with that?”

“Haha,” dry humour, there was a reason you seemed to get on, “And if you want me to get more shit…”

You could see a glint in his eyes, “Nah, you’re alright, love…” That went straight down to between your thighs, the look on your face amused the man.

Surprisingly, the two of you weren’t awkward. Quiet here and there.

You assumed he wasn’t used to social interaction in general- especially wearing that balaclava, not good for conversation.

Simon was good to talk to, all waffled speech was redacted with him. Straight forward, sometimes sarcastic and wholly looking for banter- that’s what you preferred.

And there was no chance he would be interested in you. He has the aura of a guy who gets the attention of stunning women. Why would he want you? (You thought)

It was never going to happen.

By the end of that car ride, he learned about your messy string of exes and he had way too much Shania Twain on his playlist (and knew all of the words).

Johnny greeted you both with open arms, a tight hug for you, “You been ta’ing care of yourself, Stitches?”

“Better than you look, use more soap…” The laughs and hug came to an abrupt end- his stare directed over to Simon who loomed behind you. Was it just you, or did Johnny look scared?

“Let me show y’ where you’ll be sleepin’…”You went to grab your bags but Ghost already had it covered.

Poor you, you didn’t know what would await your stay at Johnny MacTavish’s.

The tip was a stretch, your head thrown back against the blanket pillow. Silent screams playing in your throat. He could feel the struggle and see the pleasure striking your visage. Murmurs of his name, “Si- Simon -!” Broken and whimpering. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t on the edge of losing his cool. You were pulsing around him so angelic.

“You’re takin’ me so well, lovie,” His hips took a full stroke, bracing your cervix. Thrumming and dripping wet. Another groan of his name.

The rhythm sank in, strangled moans trapped- your breathing wild against his ear. His thrusts swinging all the way back until they gutted you. Over and over. “Feels. So. GOOD -!” His hand covering your mouth, noting that the owner of the house was just next door and the other two at the end of the hall. Simon’s place supposed to be on the couch downstairs surrounded by Soap’s army memorabilia. Not right there, balls deep inside of you. Loving every second.

Cherishing every inch of you, kissing you in the moment to stay quiet so he could remain there for a while longer. So he may get some sleep, for the first time in a week.

Before you know it, his hand anchored around your ankles- spreading them to hook better. You’ve never moaned so loud in your life. Even echoing off the walls of the room. “Fuck it…” He was too far gone to care what the boys heard or thought. He had been thinking about that moment since he met you, looking so delectable with his cock hammering into you. Taking him so well.

You didn’t know if he would ever tire out, another rush of adrenaline and exhaustion swept over your limp body- numb to anything other than where his thighs slammed against your own and how raw you were going to in the morning.

Your legs fell, his grip focused at your jaw; leaning over- rubbing against sensitivity deep- and claiming your lips in a ravenous kiss that had your head spinning more than before.

Hands falling to your hips, thrusts sloppy as you tightened once again. “Where can I- ,” Drunk on how he tasted, your legs locked around his body.

“Inside,” Your hand found the base of his hair at Simon’s neck, holding on for dear life. Warmth spread downwards as your nails dug into his toned back and neck alike. A thick groan filled the air- enough to become addicted.

Neither of you panted, thriving in the silence. He savoured being hilted inside you, careful not to crush you beneath him. Hot breath spanning your collarbone. “Can’t tell ya how long I’ve wan’ed to do that…”

You felt so small against him, so yearned for. No face covering on his end, no boundaries. Laid bare to him and he wanted you anyway.

Fingers stroked at his thick hair, “Same, Si…”

Neither of you knew who fell victim to slumber first.

The morning came around, the boys had looked proud of themselves… too proud, too giddy. Especially Johnny.

“I think the gutters need check’ng, heard some weird noise last nigh’,” You’ve never threatened Johnny’s mohawk before but that day you grew close.

Price even had a glint of mischief in those clear eyes of his, “Vampires common in Scotland?” You didn’t check your neck, too caught up in the heat the previous night.

Gaz had a smirk on his face, “Not from what I know of, sir…”

Christ, you were never gonna hear the end of it.

______

masterlist

[sevs-corner]

Another one of my wild dreams coming to me, I swear the voices are having too much fun when I’m unconscious, where its the usual Soulmate-Reincarnation trope but the Tf 141 guys always get to meet each other but…you.

Every. Single. Time.

In each new life, they’d always happen to meet, but nearing the end of theirs— a longing always seem to linger in their hearts. Pieces of their memory always missing with a piece of their soul not being fulfilled.

At first, they don’t notice it— it was already rare enough to have 4 soulmates all tied together. So, to think of another partner being somewhere out there? Yeah, that was outrageous.

They were already thankful enough that they had each other, how could they still feel so greedy and longing?

We’re they not enough for each other?

What was lacking? What were they lacking?

When then they hear murmurs of soulmates being together, they all said they’ll feel something snap into place.

They think its the soulmate bond being locked into place, their soul finally complete and fates intertwined.

Yet… they only got to the first couple of steps to that. Seeing that zing in each other’s eyes that recognizes each other as soulmates, the bonding ritual, the return of past life memories…

Every time they get to that point, they’d remember that something was just… missing.

So they try, in each life to the next, to find some way to fix that last piece into place— test out all their theories.

What if there was something wrong that they did? Were they truly partners? What if one wasn’t their mate with the other?

It wasn’t until Price offered the idea that there may be… a fifth person… involved that their tactics changed.

But they never got lucky.

How come it was so easy to find each other but not…you?

They were just about to give up in this timeline, their lives being ran rugged in the military made their hearts weak and souls crushed already— why would they make the extra effort when they already had the partners they wanted right besides them?

But they regret saying that, bringing it up and believing in it when that familiar zing rings across their brains and underneath their skins as they see you— fresh eyed recruit sent right to their team.

It was like their prayers have finally been answered, all the sacrifices their past selves made now coming to fruition—

But you see no zing- you’ve never had one.

That must be another reason why you always happen to miss them- whether it be through an early death, a bad relationship, an unfortunate event, living across the country from them.

But no, you were always right near them. You just couldn’t find them like they did with each other.

It just didn’t click until now for you and they are distraught for you.

They are so happy, souls now complete and their memories as well— but you had nothing.

That feeling of wholeness and unconditional love— you couldn’t feel it.

So they swear, that from then on, they’d always find you next— no matter how many times they’d repeat it, all the struggles and pain, it was incomparable to you who felt nothing from a forced severed soul bond.

My sleepi and awake mind are cooking but im not in the kitchen- send help what the

Masterlist here! Prev dream idea i was talkin about here- its becoming a saga oml

[quarterlifekitty]

“Just the tip”

cw: includes some dubcon/noncon depending on interpretation

Gaz is saying it to tease you when he’s just barely inside of you. “Is that enough for you, love?” He can feel you pulse around him as you whine, just short of begging.

Soap is saying it when he’s drunk, you’re drunk, and you definitely shouldn’t be doing it. He’s promising you don’t have the go all the way— just a little, just to help him get it out of his system, ok?

Ghost is just straight up tricking you. Told you he’d take it slow tonight, but then he snaps his hips against yours so hard that your ass flesh of your ass ripples. “Can’t believe you keep fallin’ for that one, birdie.”

Price is condescending as all hell. He’s talking to you in that babying way when you’re horny and desperate. “Just the tip— that’s all she needs, yeah? This sweet little pussy… Aw, does that feel better, darl’?”

König really meant it in the moment that he said it. He knows you’re anxious about taking him— and for good reason. But once he finds himself inside, how is he supposed to resist? You’re just too sweet. Too warm. Too wet. Too tight. Too breathtaking beneath him. He’s only a man, leibling.

[yourabsolutemother]

At Sundown Chapter 2

!!MDNI!!

Chapter 1 here

===

A/N: Sorry this took me so long, I got sick 😭 We’re going to ignore how I gave Ghost blue eyes last time. IT’S FINE. I hate this chapter, I'm so sorry pfft. Also sorry if it feels unnatural if I call Johnny ‘Soap’, I’m dyslexic and having John and Johnny makes it hard for me to follow. 

CW: Military inaccuracy, accent inaccuracy, possible lore inaccuracy, typical a/b/o sexism and classism, cursing, slightly suggestive, reader is referred to as they/them but is afab, but reader is referred to as a woman sometimes (I try my best to make it gender neutral but I’m not the brightest), everyone is kinda being unfaithful, ‘fat’ and ‘whore’ are used as insults at two separate points, slight mention of verbal and physical bullying, mention of current political events, tiny bit of angst, mention of drug use, mention of taking medicine for anxiety

Chapter overview: Jasmine makes it up to reader, and John makes it up to Soap. Soap becomes interested in reader and it makes John a little uncomfortable

WC: 10k

===

You are woken up the next morning by Jasmine jumping on your bed, making your bed rebound as she settles next to you with her hands reaching for you. You groan out and yank the blankets over your face, tightening your grip when you feel Jasmine trying to tug it down and away from your face. “Go ‘way..” You croak out, dragging out the sound on your words. You aren’t too keen on getting up so early when it is your only day off for the next few months. You start to relax back into the bed, the overwhelming urge to fall back asleep becoming too much for your tired and overworked body, when you feel Jasmine start to poke your temple. She’s being very persistent in waking you up and it only makes you want to scream in her face to get out. You might be a little dramatic in the mornings, just a little obviously. “Pup…” She whispers, waiting for you to answer while she traces shapes on your exposed shoulder. She watches as goosebumps cover your skin and you shiver at the feeling. She knows it’s your weakness, and it honestly isn’t helping to keep you awake. The repetitive motion of her finger is starting to lull you back to sleep. When you don’t stir, she starts to chant the nickname annoyingly.

“Pup. Pup… Pup… Hey Pup. Hey Pup, guess what? Pup.”

“Puuuuuuuup.” She groans loudly, flopping down practically on top of you.You shove her to the side before she makes contact with you, making her grunt as her face hits the bed unexpectedly. You sit up, groaning loudly and glaring at her through your sleepy annoyedness. Your blanket pools around your waist, fluffing as it catches air on its way down. “What do you want, Jasmine?” The sound of her full name on your lips made her wince on the inside, you only do that when you’re mad. She feels like she deserves it though, after how she treated you. You deserve to treat her in such a salty way. She reaches out and holds your hand, noticing how you don’t grip her hand like you normally do. It’s like she’s just holding your hand, instead of the two of you holding each other's. Because it is like that.  “I wanted to make it up to you for last night.” Her tone is very to the point, like she isn’t afraid to admit that she is in the wrong. That’s what you like about her, she isn’t stubborn and set in her way like you are. You thank her often for putting up with the things you put her through sometimes. She always reminds you that you treat her like that because you trust her and feel safe around her, so she’s glad to put up with it as long as you aren’t always acting that way.

You give her a curious look as she continues to speak, explaining her reasoning for waking you up so early on your day off. “It wasn’t fair that I made fun of you like that when you were upset.” She tells you, reaching to gently pull the blanket fully from your body, urging you to get out of bed so she can take you out. “I should’ve realized it wasn’t the right time.” She continues to tell you, her thumb brushing over your cheek in a maternal gesture. “I’m sorry, Pup,” She finishes, her voice carrying unwavering remorse. You can tell that she feels bad for the way that she treated you when you came home so stressed out last night. You needed someone to lean on and to comfort you, and she as a beta should’ve done a better job of doing so. She shouldn't have overlooked such an obvious cry for help.

You smile and sit up taller in bed, the blanket tangling around your feet leaving you arrayed in only your sports bra and shorts. Jasmine's eyes never falter from your face, her face lighting up when she notices your heightened happiness, seeing that her apologizing made you feel much better. To her, it feels like a small gesture, but to you it means the world. “I have a reservation at your favorite breakfast place. Let's go.” She explains to you, her eyes soft and appreciative. Your eyes light up at her words and you scoot to the edge of the bed, ready to partake in some free food.

You are quick to scurry out of bed at the sound of her words and quickly start to get dressed. “How did you even manage to do that?” You ask happily, your excited voice becoming muffled when you pull your shirt over your head. “It's so hard to get a reservation.” Your favorite breakfast place in your city also happened to be everyone else’s favorite too. It is constantly packed and they’re only open until 11. They only serve breakfast too which makes things so much worse. The food there is just so homely, tastes like something your mother used to make when you were stuck home, sick out of your mind. You miss your mom, but you try to stop thinking about her as you finish pulling on your clothes, now dressed in a white tank top and loose jeans.

Jasmine sits on the edge of your bed as you get dressed, her gaze staying upwards towards your face. She’s leaning back on her hands and her ankles are crossed lazily. “I have my ways.” She responds vaguely, and you know not to push any further. Sometimes she’s a very mysterious person, you learned very early on that if she doesn’t want to open up about something, she isn’t going to. It used to bother you, being used to people that you are close with talking about anything that is bothering them or talking about their day. But Jasmine hardly does. Since her job is centered around using her abilities as a beta to calm people down when the pressure is high, it seems silly to her to worry other people with her problems when she needs to be worrying about others.

You are giddy as you come out of the bathroom after brushing your teeth and deodorant. You grab your bag and throw it on, facing her with an excited energy practically bouncing off of you. Your orange scent is heavy and thick in your room. It makes breathing feel like it’s harder, almost like the air is concentrated. Jasmine smiles and stands up despite this, reaching her hand out for you to take which you excitedly do and follow her out of your room and downstairs. She is slightly taller than you, so you have to walk a bit faster when you are walking with her. She’s even walking at a slower pace as you are trying to keep up. It's happened one too many times that she gets distracted when in a crowded place and starts booking it, leaving you in the dust. You are used to seeing her worried face as she weaves back through the crowd to find you, cursing herself for leaving you vulnerable to nasty alphas and betas. Omegas can be awful sometimes too. She worries about you too much sometimes.

Your other beta roommate, whom you still don’t know the name of, is sitting at the island working on whatever he works on. He has his back to the two of you and doesn’t even acknowledge your presence, even as you get closer to the door. “We’re going out.” Jasmine speaks, her eyes scanning his figure. He just waves his hand dismissively and grunts, hunching over his work more intensely than before as if to say ‘go away, im busy’

You feel your heart drop the tiniest bit, hating it when people don’t seem to like you. You have gotten used to it at work, but you have a very solid wall between your work life and your everyday life, even if you hardly have days off. And with you and the beta being in such close quarters, you know this dreadful feeling will never go away unless he suddenly decides he likes you. “Come on, let's go.” You hear Jasmine say into your ear, her tone all-knowing.

You’ve known Jasmine for years, for as long as you can really remember, life with and without her blending together as the years pass. From what you can remember, you met her in kindergarten, you two didn’t share a class but you shared a recess and the occasional computer lab. Your mothers got tired of hearing the two of you begging for a playdate because you never got to spend any real time with each other, and set up weekly playdates until middle school when you had more classes together. From there your relationship flourished and you were friends all throughout school. The two of you went to different colleges and fell out of touch. Recently, you found out that she was looking for roommates and she let you stay with her for a lower rate than what she was originally asking. She had to give up her office and put her desk in her room so she could get another roommate to afford it, just so you could have less on your shoulders.

She did a lot of recreational drug use when she was in highschool, which you dabbled in but was never really fully into. She stopped smoking when she had to get a real job, since they do drug tests on her regularly. Her memory is a bit more foggy than yours because of how much time she spent high in school. burning her brain cells in the process you assume. She remembers it as, the two of you met in the third grade in the computer lab and she only asked her mom once before they allowed us to meet outside of school. The rest of the story matched up pretty well, surprisingly. There are a few things that she doesn’t remember. Like the six months in highschool when you two didn’t talk because she went through this whole ‘mean girl’ phase and decided you weren't good enough to be in her friend group. She quickly realized that the new ‘friends’ she made weren’t in it for the long haul and didn’t care a thing for her feelings. She came crawling back begging for forgiveness, which of course, you were happy to give. You had missed her the entire time.

She ushers you out of the house, shooting a glare back at your roommate, who doesn’t even notice the passive aggressive gesture, his face still buried in what you always assume to be paperwork. You take a deep breath of the fresh morning air and a small smile comes to your face. You haven’t been able to do much of anything recently because of how much you are working, it’s nice to be able to not think about anything work related. You don’t have to put in any tickets, you don’t have to deal with any angry alphas, or even any alphas that want something more from you. You don’t have to deal with the staff of the restaurant that despises you based on nothing but the fact that you are an omega. You are also excited to go out because you know going out with Jasmine means she is paying for everything that you are going to do today. You gave up a while ago trying to argue with her, she says her love language is acts of service. So buying your stuff makes her feel like she is showing her appreciation for you. You can’t complain too much, it makes you feel special.

Jasmine opens the passenger side door to her car and waits for you to fully get in before she closes it behind you, making her way to the other side of the car by going around the front. You put on your sunglasses as she circles around the car to the driver side, the dark tint eases the strain on your eyes from the harsh light coming from the morning sun. It’s just coming up above the horizon behind you. It’s glaring off the mirrors and anything around that is chrome. She gets in and starts the car, you are quick to connect the bluetooth to her car. Only after connecting do you take off your bag and buckle your seatbelt. Jasmine has been expanding her music taste recently and it's less than impressive. It’s not that it’s bad, it’s just not the vibe that you’re ever really looking for. You turn on the playlist title ‘Road trip/sing along’

Jasmine starts driving, with one hand on the steering wheel and her other arm resting on the center console. She once told you she always keeps her arm on the console so that she can reach over and ‘save you’ from getting hurt if something is going wrong. Like she can save you with an arm if the car starts flipping. Her fingers tap against the leather of her steering wheel as she drives towards the diner she’s taking you to. You can hardly sit still in your seat, happy to go after not going for so long.

The drive is around 45 minutes, since the diner is on the other side of the city and there is Saturday traffic. You sit with your legs crossed in the seat, watching things pass by the window. You get lost in thought as Jasmine drives, your mind wandering through memories and anxiously thinking about the bills you have to pay with your next paycheck. You are prescribed anxiety medicine by your doctor, a pretty high dose, but it still hardly helps. You’re just glad you don’t spend all night staying up worrying about literally everything. The medicine helps the insonia the most.

You are ripped out of your thoughts by a particularly hard break from Jasmine, Her fingers brushing against your arm for a moment. Your eyes snap to the road and see someone that had not seen a mail truck that is putting mail in a mailbox, due to a curve that hides it from our view as we come up. The car is able to change lanes and go around the mail truck, but there isn’t enough room for us as well so Jasmine presses on the brakes harder. Her hand presses against your shoulder, holding you back from going forward too far as she presses the brake pedal. Which is unnecessary since you're perfectly capable of doing it yourself. Sometimes she acts as though you are incompetent, but it makes it so you don’t have to do as much when you are around her, so you allow her to do it.

“I’m sorry, hun. That’s a really bad spot for a mailbox.” Jasmine apologizes with a slight laugh, glancing over at you with a slight grin on her face. You feel when she lets off of the brake and presses the gas, continuing down the road and getting in the other lane to overtake the mail truck. She only lets go of your shoulder once she is safely around the mail truck. “Did you know that if you hit a mail truck, unless they’re being really stupid, it's your fault?” You blurt out, watching the mail truck as you pass it. “It doesn’t help that mail truck drivers are like the worst drivers in existence.” You can’t remember where you learned the information, but you find it odd that they don’t teach it to new drivers. You turn your head and look at Jasmine, who is glancing at you with her eyebrows furrowed in faux judgment. “No wonder you’re unmated.” She mumbles, looking back at the road with a smirk and giggle.

You gasp and slap her arm, turning in your seat as your mouth falls open in shock. “Excuse me, ma’am!” You gasp, fighting back a laugh erupting from your throat. “That is so uncalled for!” You shriek, placing a hand over your heart, pretending as though she had hurt you. “And you’re one to talk. The last time you were even remotely close to finding one was in highschool.” You tell her, pointing a finger at her. She can’t stop giggling as she drives, trying to keep her eyes open so she can see the road. She is the only person you trust to make jokes like that about you. She’s helped you through countless breakdowns about the fact that you are unmated and too afraid alphas to mate with one, no matter how much your instincts crave it. You know that when she jokes about it, she doesn’t mean what she says because she's had to convince you of the opposite too many times for you to count.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When John wakes up and he’s in his room, cuddling with his pack while they sleep peacefully. His room is the master bedroom, it has two king size beds on the ground inside, pushed together so that they could all sleep in a cuddle pile comfortably. He’s laying closest to the right side of the bed with Gaz’s back pressed against his chest, their legs are tangled together. Soap is facing Gaz, his chin resting on Gaz’s head. Ghost is behind soap, closest to the left side with his face buried in the space between Soap's shoulder blades, snoring loudly. He lifts his hand from Gaz’s waist and brushes a stray hair from Soap’s mohawk away from his forehead, his thumb ghosting over the younger’s cheekbone softly. He places a kiss on the top of Gaz’s head, getting up and sitting just on the edge of the bed for a moment. He lets the memories of last night run through his head, how poorly he treated Soap when all he was trying to do was help. John sighed and stood up from the bed, pushing off of his knees with his hands.

He gets ready for the day as quietly as he can, trying to think of ways he could make it up to his beta. He could just wait for him to wake up and give him a verbal apology, but it doesn’t feel like enough for a beta that has to deal with two hormonal alphas. He pulled a shirt over his head and left the room, closing the door quietly behind himself before making his way downstairs. He walks to the kitchen and starts to make tea, planning on starting breakfast once it’s brewing. But a lightbulb goes off in his brain, finally knowing what else to do other than tell him how utterly sorry he is for being so rude. He quickly dumps the water from the kettle and books it back up the stairs, skipping every other step with quiet and practiced ease. The primal part of his brain loves the idea of taking care of his beta, pampering what’s his, showing him off. He slips back into his bedroom and hones in on Soap, who has now turned to face simon. Simon is on his back, one arm over his eyes while his other arm lays out beside him, Soap is using it as a pillow. Gaz has his front pressed against soaps back, his arms tucked into his chest as he curled around his bonded pack mate.

John kneels on the edge of the bed, just below Soap, and runs his hands up and down Soap’s calves. He does this for a little bit, paying special attention to spots where he feels knots in the muscles. The beta lets out breathy grunts in his sleep every time a knot slips from underneath John’s fingers, but still doesn’t seem to want to wake up, he just licks his lips and turns his head, continuing to let out pleased sounds from John’s massage. John huffs in annoyance at the shorter man's deep sleeping. He carefully places his hands next to Soap’s head, slotting between him and the two men either side of him. He leans over and brushes his lips over the shell of Soap’s ear. “Johnny..” He whispers out gently, placing kisses to the side of Soap’s face a bit firmly to wake him up. The larger man’s mustache tickles Soap’s face, making his lips twitch in his sleep.

Finally, Soap starts to wake up, his eyes fluttering open, being met with Simon's shoulder and John's arm. He lets out a hum and closes his eyes again, not wanting to get up quite yet. This makes John laugh quietly in his ear, leaning his weight onto the arm next to Simon and using his other hand to sort of lift Soaps head by his neck, supporting his mate's head with his fingers. “Ge' up, i’m taking you ou'.” John speaks, his voice hushed so the other two pack members won't hear him and wake up. Soap’s eyes immediately snap open at the mention of going out. He knows what that means. Food. He sits up in bed slowly, allowing John time to slide off and stand from the mattress. They both move carefully so as to not wake the alpha and the beta that are still asleep, watching as they squirm to find each other's warmth, making sure they find each other. Soap slides off the bed the rest of the way once Simon has Gaz in his arms and shoots a charming smile at Price. “Whit's the occasion?” He asks John, his head tilted to the side a bit in curiosity.

John takes a hold of his arm gently and guides him out of the room, leaving the sleeping pair to a peaceful and quiet bedroom. He slides his hand from the back of Soap's arm to interlace his fingers with the other man’s. “I wonted to make i' up to you for being such a cunt yesterday.” John explains, his voice now louder since they aren’t around sleeping people anymore. His voice is gruff and a bit crackly from sleep, it makes Soap shiver unnoticeably. “You’re a very good beta, don’' le' my behavior go to your head.” John continues, his voice now holding a hint of vulnerability, Soap knows he means what he says.

Soap leans against his side and smiles warmly up at him. “t’s ma job tae tak care o ye, e'en whan you’re havin an aff day.” Soap reminds his alpha, his thumb brushing over the back of John’s hand. John takes a deep breath and nods. “I’m glad you think so..” He admits, the breath he just took coming out, making his words sound all breathy. “It’s jus' tha' i feel like a good alpha, a real alpha, wouldn’' le' their emotions ge' in the woy of making sure their pack is happy..” He continues, his grip tightening on Soap's hand as they come up to Soap’s room, turning his head to fully look at Soap. The beta smiles reassuringly at John and places a gentle kiss to his lips briefly. “Ye are a guid alpha, John, don’t ye iver forget tha’.” His voice carries a very hard resolve, his eyes burning with a determination for John to really understand what he is saying. “youre allowit tae let gae sometimes, keepin things inside isnae guid. We're yer pack, we're here for ye na matter whit.” Soap tells him, poking the alpha in the ribs.

John can’t help but believe Soap, the look he is giving can convince John of anything. He can murder his entire family and pull this face and he will be an innocent man in John’s eyes. John's free hand comes up and cups Soap’s cheek, cradling his face in his hand as he leans in and kisses him lovingly. The taller man puts his heart and soul into the kiss, making sure Soap knows he loves him, and the rest of the pack, more than anything else in the world. He would give a limb for any one of them, easily. Soap lets go of John’s hand and rests his hands on John's ribs at his side, having to look up slightly to kiss him back with overwhelming emotion. John’s now free hand moves to grasp onto Soap’s hips while they share the intimate kiss. The rest of the world fades out as they kiss, holding each other close like they are afraid they’d be forced apart. Their lips clash and their teeth hit each other a few times, the pair not worrying about being polite about it.

Soap is the first to pull away, taking a deep breath through his nose as he rests his forehead against John’s. “Come in, I need clothes.” He mutters, sliding his hand down the alpha’s side before slipping off his body. John leans down and buries his face into Soap’s neck, taking a deep breath of Soap’s freshly cut grass scent. He lets out a little huff and sighs softly. Soap stands there, his hands once again finding his mate’s ribs. He holds on as John really takes his time to smell him, effectively scenting himself with Soap’s scent. “You smell so good. 'll never be able to ge' over it, I swear.” He mumbles, pulling away to look at Soap’s face. “Let’s go..” He continues, smiling as he reaches for the door handle.

Soap can feel his heart drop to his stomach and his throat starts to tighten up. He doesn’t know how John will react to the smell of an omega in his room. He prays that the omega next door, who is slowly catching his attention, isn’t in their room and their scent isn’t wafting through his room like it normally is when the omega is home. He doesn’t even notice the way he holds his breath as John opens the door and steps in. He tries to conceal his anxiety and steps in behind John, his hands going to hold onto the shirt he has on, tugging a bit on the fabric. Soap seems a little surprised when John doesn’t react to any smell, stepping in further so that he can smell better for himself. As Soap breathes in, he is relieved to smell that the omega is not in their room and his room was free of any smells as far as he could tell.

“Kinda smells like oranges in here.” John points out as he makes his way over to the bed that Soap hardly uses and sits down, leaning back on his hands while he looks at Soap. He wasn't looking at him like he wanta a reason as to why it smells so much like oranges, which makes Soap release the breath he forgot he was been holding. John continues to look at Soap while he racks his brain for things to tell his alpha. “Thare wis an omega at trainin last nicht thon wasn’t wearin scent blocker. Got aw ower me” Soap explains, remembering the lie that he told Simon last night. “Si haed tae scent me whan A came home last nicht” He tells John, connecting the lies to make it seem more believable if the two alphas are to ever talk about Soap smelling like oranges.

He feels bad having to lie to his alphas, but he doesn’t want them thinking that he is doing unfaithful things behind everyone’s back. The omega is infatuating, but that doesn't stop Soap from knowing that his place is with his pack. He isn’t so unhappy in the relationship that he needs to cheat to feel better about himself. He’s secure. The omega is just so interesting and engaging, that he can’t keep his mind off of them for more than a few hours. And knowing that they are only a few feet away at any moment when they’re both home makes his brain swim with intrigue

John just nods, completely unaware of the dishonesty coming from his beta mate. John shakes his head and scoffs a little bit. “Those new omegas need to have a talking to, they never follow the rules. There's a reason we wear scen' blockers.” John rants on about how disrespectful the new omega recruits are, a new wave of omegas that think they can change the societal rules that have been around for millenia. It is just safer the way they have it set up. Plus, if anything were to happen to them, not revealing they are an omega right off gives them a better chance of survival. The enemies they fought do appalling things to the omegas that are trapped in their claws.

Soap goes to his dresser and pulls out new underwear, socks, and two pairs of pants. He throws one pair of pants at John as he walks by to go to the closet. “Ye forgot pants, mate.” He laughs, opening the closet door to look for a shirt. Soap’s back is towards John as he fishes around in the hangers for a shirt he deems good enough. John stands up, Soap paying no mind to him since John still has to put the pants he gave him on. He jumps when John grabs his hips. “Wha' if I don'' won' to pu' pants on?” He asks, pulling Soap’s hips against his own. “Fuckin’ love yer scent, pup..” John grumbles against his neck. He pushes his nose right up against the scent gland in Soap’s neck, chuffing softly against the skin as his dick grows harder in the confines of his boxers. Soap chuckles and reaches behind him to swat John away from him. “Ye promisit me breakfast. Yer dick, unfortunately, will no be enough.” Soap tells John, finally pulling a shirt out of the closet. It is one of Simon’s old shirts that Soap stole from him, Soap doesn’t know that Simon knows he stole it, but lets him keep it.

John groans and immediately backs off when Soap tells him off, sliding Soap’s pants on. He has to suck in his stomach a little bit to button the pants, since John is bigger than Soap. Soap is tall for a beta, and so is Gaz, but John is still bigger. He doesn’t bother putting on a belt since the pants are sure to stay on his hips. He pulls his shirt over where his muscular hips muffin top out of the pants, much to Soap’s displeasure. “Givn’ me blue balls over ‘ere.” John mumbles as he sits back down on the bed, watching as Soap pulls his (Simon’s) shirt over his head. “Ye don' even care, do you?” John jokes, grabbing Soap once he’s done getting dressed. He pulls the beta to stand between his spread legs, resting his chin on Soap's muscular stomach and looking up at him with affected sadness. Soap laughs and threads his fingers through John's hair, looking down at him as he pulls a faux pity face. “Of course I do.” He says in a fake tone, pursing his lips slightly. “Poor poor alpha.” He continues to joke, cradling John's head in his arms. “Left high and dry.”

John huffs in amusement and pushes Soap away gently, glaring halfheartedly at him. “You suck.” He grumbles, standing up and shuffling to get past Soap. “Still smells like oranges in here. Did you ge' a candle or something? when are you even in here to burn it?” John questions, his head turning up slightly as he sniffs the air. He just stands there for a second, his eyes cast off to the side as he tries to figure out what the smell is. Luckily, you have been out of the room for long enough that while they could smell you, they couldn’t smell you. He shrugs and turns back to Soap, who is mentally panicking while he watches John. “Let's go, we gotta go. This place is apparently really popular.” John explains as he grabs his betas hand and leads him out of his room, down the stairs and to the car.

He keeps a protective hand on Soap's lower back as soon as they step outside, as if the two claim marks on either side of Soap's neck aren’t enough to show who he belongs to, who his alphas are. Soap is a large beta, a rare phenomenon that paired well with female alphas who might be a bit smaller, being mistaken constantly as a beta and taken advantage of. Soap finds it endearing how protective his two alphas are, but just a little bit unnecessary. He is perfectly capable of protecting himself and he would never leave his pack for some measly alpha. But that doesn’t stop John and Simon from protecting their two omegas like they are some tiny, helpless omegas. Not really, but that’s how Soap’s stubborn brain sees it. Soap sees it as them thinking that their beta’s can’t protect themselves or the pack, unlike the alphas who just see it as protecting their pack and making sure the strongest put up the most fight. Soap thinks it's better to make the load even between the roles, so the alphas don’t wear themselves out . Gaz is always the one who constantly hears the rants about how Simon and John treat them, having to calm Soap down and remind him about all the times that their alphas believed in his abilities on and off the field.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You and Jasmine finally make it to the restaurant, you clinging to her arm as the smell of alpha fills your nose. You try not to let the overwhelming fear of alphas get in the way of your day to day life, but sometimes it isn’t as easy as ignoring them. You keep your head tilted down so you don’t accidentally make eye contact with an alpha that might be in a bad mood. Jasmine leads you through the parking lot and towards the entrance of the restaurant, looping her arm with yours. “It’s alright, I’ve got you.” She mutters to you, reaching over with her other hand to caress the back of your hand. You are practically clawing the skin of her bicep, your nails leaving crescent indents in her skin. She winces slightly, but doesn’t move to stop you from doing it. She understands your fear of alphas, why you are always so uncomfortable around them. Luckily for you, she knows how to handle alphas that are angry, because of her line of work.

You don’t know what you’d do without her, she’s like your lifeline when you really need her. Well, except for last night. She’s usually really good about comforting you, it helps a lot that she’s a beta and she’s naturally good at it. You think back on all the times that Jasmine has helped you and used her skills as a beta to make sure you know your worth. You are the person you are today because of her and her comforting words. Your thoughts are cut short as you walk into the restaurant, your nose scrunching as you smell all the old people who don’t bother putting on scent blockers after so many years. You can’t really blame them, it’s hard to care about what other people think when you reach that age. Jasmine handles talking to the host and guides you through the busy restaurant, pulling you along as you keep your head down. You always find it really annoying when hosts walk too fast, having to keep up and hope you don’t lose them is not fun. You like to go extra slow when it's an older couple at your job. It’s so sad watching them fight through the crowd while they try to catch up to the host that's walking too fast.

This host places down your menus on the table and bids farewell to Jasmine, not bothering to glance at you as he walks away back to the host stand. Jasmine doesn’t respond, she knows the type of person he is, it’s not hard to catch once you really know what to look for. You can really tell their classist when they pretend an omega isn’t even there like what just happened, often referring to the beta or alpha nearest to them when they are taking orders to order for them. It really sucks when you don’t even know the person they ask, it sucks even more when the person they ask is classist too, ‘Oh yeah they’ll have a salad. No one wants a fat omega.’ is usually the bullshit that spews out of the mouth of a person like that.

You and Jasmine sit down, she is facing the door so she can keep an eye on it. You just sit in whatever seat feels right. It’s one of those square tables that never have enough room for two people, let alone four. You despise tables like this, sitting in these with two people when you want to sit next to each other is really something designers should think about, and what interior designers should think about when using them. The feeling of your stomach dropping when you see these is all too familiar. It makes it so much harder for you to feel safe when Jasmine can’t protect you well, not because she’s lacking, but because of the fucking table. Not desirable in the slightest.

The restaurant is busy, so it takes a really long time for your waitress to even get your drink order. You're still waiting for her to bring it back and it's been ten minutes since she left. Her name tag had a ‘new employee’ sticker on it, so you give her a slack, as if you don’t give every waiter slack. This job sucks. You know how hard it is to be on your own for your first few rushes, especially when it's this busy. Her entire section is full and it looks like she has at least two eight parties. They really need to get a manager to step in, it's simply too much for a new hire to handle. You see her whisk by with a tray full of drinks, that don’t seem to be yours, and it looks like she just spent five minutes in the freezer crying. You can feel your heart clench in your chest. “Jas, can we tip really big..?” You ask your friend, turning your head slightly to the side to look at Jasmine. She has her thumb partially in her mouth, nibbling at the skin around her cuticle while she scrolls through her phone. “Hmm?” Jasmine asks,  tilting her head up to look at you, but her eyes stay on her phone.

You kinda scoff and push her phone so it falls towards her. “You’re supposed to be making it up to me for being mean last night.” You tell her pointedly, pursing your lips while crossing your arms over your chest. “Not ignoring me.” You continue, the cheeky look still on your face. Jasmine’s face kinda falls as she catches her phone before she sits up straight and tosses her hair behind her shoulder, interlacing her fingers on the table in front of her. Her phone now sat face down on the table. “Well, I’m sorry, Madame. How may I make it up to such a noble omega such as yourself?” She asks, purposely over exaggerating her words. This makes you scoff, kicking her slightly under the table. “Oh shut it.” You scold, furrowing your eyebrows at her. She smiles and reaches down to rub the sharp stinging in her shin. “Okay, okay, I’ll pay attention.” She gives in, holding her hands up in surrender.

You spend the next five minutes talking about life and how things are going in your respective workplaces, you end up talking about your new roommate. And while you’re talking about him, you realize how little you’ve actually talked to him. Actually thinking about it, you come to find that you have only said ‘hello’. It kinda rubbed you in the wrong way, maybe you had done something wrong. Were you too loud one night while you were crying? Or while you were… entertaining yourself? You hope not, the last thing you want is a roommate who doesn’t like you, it sounds like a life of misery. The waitress sets down your drinks in front of you, her hands slightly flailing in front of her while she rants on about why she took so long getting your drinks. Jasmine politely interrupts her by placing a hand on her forearm and smiling softly. “You don’t have to worry about rushing to get our stuff, we totally understand.” She tells the waitress, pulling her hand back to rest it on the table.

You can see the panic slide off her face for a moment while she rushes out a meek ‘thank you’ before rushing off to serve her more needy customers, her face contorting back to a look of dread. Jasmine sighs as she watches the girl weave through the crowd, getting lost in the sea of customers and waitresses alike. “Yeah.., we can tip extra.” Jasmine mutters, answering your question from before that you swore she hadn’t heard. Jasmine’s eyes linger a bit longer than they should as she watches the waitress rush through the crowd and disappear. It doesn’t go unnoticed by you, and you put it in a folder in your brain to poke at her with later.

A smile bursts across your face as you hear the beta’s words, feeling the warmth of doing something good spread through you. This feeling makes all the bad feelings of being out and about disappear, it’s like you were never scared in the first place. You know that will all change as soon as you look up and see an alpha sitting not even ten feet from you, so you’ll save yourself the trouble and not look up. You always try to make people feel as though there's at least one person out there that understands what they’re going through or at least sympathizes with them. You know what it’s like to walk a road where no one is there to walk with you. How it feels to think that no one thinks that you can do things right. Jasmine is your person, you hope you are someone's person. You and Jasmine are the waitresses at this moment.

You ramble on to Jasmine for a few minutes while drinking your Shirley temple, talking about weirdly deep things that you probably shouldn’t be talking about in the middle of the busy restaurant. But who cares, it's very unlikely you’ll see any of these people ever again. And if you did, they won't remember you or how you talked about your childhood trauma in the middle of a breakfast rush. You feel that familiar tug in your bladder and you wince, knowing you’ll have to get up and make it to the bathroom by yourself. Usually, you are able to ask Jasmine to come with you. But, with how busy the restaurant is, you don’t trust to leave your stuff here unattended and come back to it untouched. So, you are forced to grow a pair and do it yourself.

You take a deep breath and mumble to Jasmine where you are going, a simple nod as she puts her phone down, that she had picked back up at one point, to give her attention to you. She wants to make sure that you make it at least to the hallway where the bathrooms were safely. She watches as you stand up and walk towards the bathroom, your hands clenched into fists and a determined look on your face as you glide through the crowd like it’s water. Thanks to being a waitress, you are able to get through crowds like it was no problem. You know when to take your chances and when taking your chance will lead to failure. It’s a pretty easy pattern to recognize once you’ve seen it a million times. You’re good at reading people, watching their mannerism like a hawk to spot hints as to what their next move is going to be. It’s necessary for your safety back in your original pack, where you were constantly teased and bullied. Turns out, it doesn’t matter if your father was a high ranking alpha in a multi-family pack, they still bully and beat the omegas. 

You're so busy swimming through the crowd that you don’t even notice another pair of eyes on you. Soap is watching you through the crowd as the host leads him and John to their table, which was in a corner. Your table is positioned in the middle, a little further away from theirs. The host smiles and pulls their chairs out before rushing back to the host stand, where there is a line of people starting to refill the lobby. It’s one of many, and definitely not the last wave. Soap lets out a little huff of air when he looks back towards where you just were after getting in his seat. He had almost gotten a good look at you. He noticed Jasmine’s car in the parking lot, when they coincidentally parked next to it. He’d recognized the parking tag that was required to be put on the rearview mirrors of residents of your neighborhood, since it was a gated community. 

John watches Soap as he scans the area near the bathroom, completely unaware he saw you, or that you are even here. John doesn’t really know who you are. He's aware of your existence, nothing more than that. He also isn’t aware of Soap’s interest in this new omega, how he craves to get to know her. It’s not like Soap is dying to get his hands on you, or that he wanted to hold you like he holds his mate. It’s just that you seem so elusive and mysterious he couldn’t help but be interested in you. He wants to know what your face looks like, he wants to know what your strong scent smells like up close. He just wants to know everything about you, learn how you work, what makes you tick. He wants to make sure that your packmates are treating you right.

 “Are you okay? Did you see something?” John asks, one hand reaching for the menu while his other reaches to hold Soap’s hand after a long period of silence. Soap just nods slowly and looks at John, blinking before he flashes his charming smile and saying the first thing that comes to mind. “Aye, some prick wis wearin a maga hat.” It is unfortunately completely believable, and John even buys it. He rolls his eyes and takes his hat off his head, placing it on the table furthest away from them. “Welcome to America.” He states with a grimace behind his tone, shaking his head as he reads the menu.

“Why i the hell did command send us here o aw places? they coud've pickit london an A'd be happier.” Soap complains, leaning back in his chair as his eyes go back to the hallway you disappeared into. If a Scot would rather be in Britain then somewhere else, it's a very heavy insult “If I knew, I would be having some very strong words with whoever made the decision. I mean, who sends three brits and a sco' to america for leave?” John complains back, not taking his eyes of the menu as he scans for something that sounds decent. Soap doesn’t hear John's response and John knows that “Can ye no like put i a request? A mean, canae ye use yer rank tae make someone move us ower the pond?” Soap questions mindlessly, knowing full well that there is absolutely nothing that John can do to make their situation any better. They are lucky they get a place as nice as they did.

“fuckers don'' even have a nice english breakfas'.” John groans, closing the menu quickly. He gives up on trying to find something to eat for right now, it’s clear from the line out the door that they wouldn’t get their order taken in a while. He scans the room for a moment before his eyes land on Soap, whose face has dropped slightly and a slightly shocked look crosses his face. John’s eyebrows furrow in confusion as he follows Soap’s gaze to the hallway, where he sees you, a younger looking woman, walking out, your eyes making a path to what he can only assume is your table, standing in the entrance of the hallway. He notices the way your chest heaves slightly before you step out and book it to your table. The both of them lose you in the crowd, Soap is left with his gaze wandering, trying to scope you out in the crowded restaurant. “Who was tha’?” John asks, his eyes returning to Soap’s shocked face. He doesn’t answer, too caught up thinking about the way your hair frames your face, how your eyes seem so soft despite how panicked you seem. His beta instincts are reeling at the thought of someone he knows is an omega being in distress. But, it is a saturday morning and he knows you have a pack, the two betas. He knows someone has your back, hopes someone does.

“Earth to Soap.” John calls out gently, waving his hand in front of his face to get his attention. “Who was tha’?” He asks again, watching as Soap blinks and looks over to him. “Ah it's nothing, cap'n. Juist people watchin. Thoucht A saw someone A knew.” Soap told John, starting to feel horrible about all the lies he has been telling his alphas recently. He knows when they find out about it, because they will, he’s gonna be neck deep in trouble. He sees the way John’s eyes squint in disbelief, scanning the beta’s face for a sign that he is lying. After not seeing one, he nods and reopens the menu, continuing to search for something to eat in this hellhole with no traditional english. “Something is on your mind, beta. What's wrong?” John questions after a moment of silence, picking his breakfast choice before he closes the menu. “Is it because of last night?” He asks, his eyes holding a look of vulnerability as he looks at his mate.

Soap seems confused for a second before he breaks out in a laugh, that’s probably too loud for the space they are in. John sees a few people turn their heads and glare at the smaller man. “Why would I be thinking so hard about last night?” Soap asks, rubbing his thumb on the back of John’s hand comfortingly. It’s obviously bothering him since he’s brought it up twice already this morning already. “Ye didn’t dae anythin wrong. Ye have been a little snippy, but it's nothin we can’t handle.” Soap reassures him, smiling at John while he watches the battle behind his eyes. John lets out a sigh and his head dips slightly. “It’s jus' that, i stood up so quickly las' nigh' in my office, though' i knocked you over..” John breathes out, his tone remorseful. “And then i didn' even stop to make sure you were okay..” John continues, his grip tightening on Soap’s hand like he’ll suddenly get mad and pull it away. “juist stop thinkin aboot it, John. A'm okay. Ye're makin it up tae me now, thon's whit matters richt now. Aye?” It helps to calm John’s nerves for now, replaying Soap’s words in his mind whenever he feels insecure about it again.

The whole meal, John catches Soap looking past him and at you. He’s confused and a little offended. He took time out of his day to take out his beta, who he treated wrongly the night before. And here he is, distracted from the conversation, from his alpha, to look at some random woman in the diner that John had to fight for a table at. He doesn’t want to say anything to Soap, not wanting to point fingers and accuse him of something that might be purely innocent. Maybe they reminded Soap of his childhood friend, or maybe it actually was his childhood friend. But it doesn’t stop John from getting grumpy. By the time they are both completely finished, John’s face is hardened, trying to hold back from twisting his face in annoyance. He slaps a forty dollar bill on the table and motions for Soap to go first through the crowd.

Soap notices the difference in John’s behavior as they get up and make their way to the exit, noticing how John doesn’t grip the back of his neck when they go through a particularly thick portion of a crowd. He doesn’t hear the quiet growl that comes from John when he turns to search for that woman one last time through the crowd before they walk out the door. The beta frowns a bit at the lack of John’s closeness, but chooses not to say anything. John’s job is very stressful as their captain, and even when they are on partial leave, his desk is covered in paperwork, all the ones that didn’t really have deadlines, but still needed to be signed. He practically lives in his office all year around.

When they get back into John’s car, Soap immediately starts to project his calming scent for John, trying to ease the off putting emotions that whatever is bothering him is causing. He can hear John taking deep breaths of this scent as he pulls out of the parking lot, obviously not wanting to feel the way he is. Once he is safely on the road, he reaches over and places a hand on Soap’s mid thigh, kneading the muscles as he tries to calm himself. “Thank you, beta.” John’s voice speaks, sounding deeper and strained, like he is trying not to snap. 

And John is doing just that. He doesn’t like the way Soap hardly looked at him the whole time, giving his attention to someone other than his mate. It makes his blood boil knowing that someone else has caught the attention of his beta. His beta. John doesn’t want to be so possessively mad, but it is his nature. Protection and control has been drilled into his brain from a young age. But he doesn’t want to be one of those alphas that doesn’t allow their pack members to be free and do what they please. So he chokes back his ego and gives his pack mates the support they need. But he can’t help but feel like he isn’t giving them the support they deserve, no matter how many times they reassure him otherwise.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You and Jasmine finally make it home after a long morning and afternoon out, carrying bags of leftover food from lunch and from all the stores the two of you visited while out. You love it when Jasmine treats you to a day like this. They aren’t too often because you always feel a little bad that she spends so much money on you during the course of only a few hours. You almost always end up with a new wardrobe worth of new clothing, mostly ‘new’ from the thrift stores. The thrift stores are the only ones you shop at because you always find good things and it's cheap enough that you can afford a few new items every few months.

You giggle at the joke Jasmine cracks as you set the bags down on the kitchen island, having to push a few random objects out of the way with the bottoms of the bags before you set them down. “You know you didn’t have to buy me all this.” You point out, which makes Jasmine groan and throw her head back in faux annoyance. “How many times do I have to tell you? I make enough money that I don’t have to worry about having a spending spree every once and a while.” She reminds you, her hand covering your mouth when you start to argue with her. “And I do not mind at all if sometimes I spend it on you. I can survive for a few more months without something new.” She tells you firmly, her eyes looking into yours like she is trying to drill her words into your thick skull.

You roll your eyes but nod anyway, simply wanting her to let go of your mouth. You’d get the last word somehow. She finally lets go of your mouth and opens the two bags of leftovers on the island. “Go on upstairs and I’ll come look at your new clothes and help you put them away, yeah?” Jasmine instructs gently while she takes one of many boxes from the bag and transfers it to the fridge. You waste no time picking up the rest of the bags and going upstairs to get all of them out.

You’re putting the last few items on your bed, laid out so Jasmine could pick which one she wants to see first when she finally comes in. This is your routine when you get new clothes. You lay them all out and she picks which ones she wants to see. She always wants to see all of them, liking the way your face lights up when you show her your new favorite shirt or socks. It doesn’t matter how little you get either, she wants to see it on you before you put it through the wash. It’s purely because you love the attention you get from doing it, basking in being someone's main focus.

The whole time that the two of you are doing this, you never hear your roommate. He is such a quiet person that the two of you have both thought you are alone in the house at one point, just to come downstairs in nothing but a t-shirt to see him sitting at the island doing god knows what. It’s lucky that he doesn’t ever give the two of you the time of day, so he never sees when you come prancing down the stairs half naked.

You spend the rest of the night giggling and talking about random things with Jasmine, slapping her arm and gasping in shock when she asks risque questions like ‘If you liked alphas, would you be a breeder?’ leaving you reeling in laughter, cause it just sounds so out of character for you. She has a tendency to forget about filtering her words, sometimes throwing out the most insane thoughts and phrases as soon as they pop into her mind. It has resulted in a few arguments in your years being friends with her, but other time you realized she doesn’t really mean any harm by her words.

You end the night with cuddles in your bed with your large stuffed animal. It is the last thing that your mother gave you before your pack kicked you out. It is the only thing that you have that reminds you of the once loving relationship you had with the woman that birthed you. You miss her. You miss your family. But you don’t miss the rest of your multi-family pack. The boys there used to tease you so much when you were growing up, and when you got older it turned into fighting over you. One gruesome fight was all it took for the pack leader to kick you out ‘in favor of peace and balance’. You thought your father and mother would’ve fought for you to stay, but they saw you as promiscuous and didn’t want a whore omega for a daughter to ruin their public image within the pack. They were the ones that really pushed for the pack leader to kick you out.

You fall asleep that night thinking about them, about your old life. Wondering how different your life would’ve been in the universe hadn’t been so cruel to you. You wonder if it will always be so cruel.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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[lisenberry]

We drift in and out

Surprise snippet of Chapter 4. Remember when I thought this was finished?

Big thank you to a few lovely asks for encouraging me to continue with it.

CW: Fluff, and mentions of bodily injuries and hospitals.

You ended up picking a ring that belonged to his great-grandmother, and had it resized just in time for his release from the hospital. 

Severe internal bleeding, five broken ribs, a fracture in his spine, a grade three concussion, and a blown out right knee.  Two agonizing weeks in intensive care before they could even fly him back home.  Six more at King Edward VII’s Hospital for veterans.

It was strange being on the other side of things.  With him in the hospital bed, arguing with the nurses and staff, and you the one adjusting his pillow and fetching a refill on his water and ice chips. 

But you were grateful to see him recover at a quicker rate than any of the doctors had anticipated.  They clearly didn’t know John, because by mid-November, he was walking with the help of a cane and sitting back on your couch.  Watching the weekly match and defying their orders not to lift anything heavier than five kilos.

Each time he hoisted the baby up into the air, you worried that he’d somehow fall apart.  Rip himself open again.  Only to remember that of all the things he had endured, the weight of your child on his chest wouldn’t be what took him from you. 

That nothing would, ever again.

He was retired.  A decommissioned weapon of warfare.  And if they tried to bring him back in again, you’d just have to bash in his other knee.

“While I admire your conviction, love, it won’t come to that.  I promise,” he’d vowed with a deep chuckle, and dropped a scratchy kiss to your temple when you’d told him as much.

The rest of the team had a laugh over it, as well.  Sergeant Garrick even offered to do it for you, if necessary.  Which sparked a grisly conversation between him and MacTavish about the correct pressure and angle with which to get the job done, and whether or not they’d need Lieutenant Riley to help hold him down. 

“Gladly,” had been the quiet man’s only reply. Made even slightly more unnerving because your drooling, teething baby had his finger clenched tightly between her sharp little teeth. And he didn't seem bothered at all.

[konigslilbug]

Unhinged!reader (self insert) with a mellow!simon is stuck in my brain today. OR UGH even better unhinged!reader with mellow!simon AND mellow!johnny god I’m obsessed. Imagine being out in public and someone looks at your boys wrong, Simon immediately knowing you’re about to say something placing a calloused hand on the back of your neck to ground you. THE BRAIN WORMS ARE WORMING.

[cherie-doll]

Cherie luveeee. Wish you good and healthy, beautiful.

I got someting.

You know those retired dog officers that have been trained for jungkies and bombs?? We adopt them while cod characters are away for deployments, because we're lonely and literal scary dog privileges hehe.

And when they're home, our dog gets alert and quite relentless by the smells until we pay the good officer jerky and 2 ice cubes.

It's messy, but hope you understand what I mean.

Dw i see your vision and tried to execute it

⪩⪨ price, ghost, soap, gaz, roach, alejandro, rudy, phillip graves, makarov, keegan, könig, horangi, nikto

No cuz imagine missing that security, yearning for those big strong muscle arms wrapping around you and engulfing your body in theirs >.<

BuT, you’re alone at home, that emptiness roaming the halls and dark rooms as the orange glow of the afternoon sun seeps through the blinds and the most awful melancholy hits you. You grab your keys and go out for a drive not being able to stand the loneliness anymore.

You’re driving around downtown and spot a shelter, you saw a poster on the glass display for cats. Only to walk in and be told that they’ve all been adopted, you’re ready to walk out until a yelp can be heard from one of the kennels and see a German shepherd watching you with his big brown eyes, head laying on his paws. Your heart squeezes and it’s as if you’re made for one another. Without another thought you ask for it and after a few moments you’re walking out with your new companion.

You spend the next couple of weeks bonding with the dog, taking him out on walks and sleeping peacefully on your bed despite your military bf/husband gone because you know the canine sleeping on the bedroom floor will protect you. You even go out a little more often than you would when they're on deployment because you've got your guard dog scaring away those with wrong intentions but is secretly a sweetheart within.

And it isn't until your partner comes back, late at night, that your dog raises his head, ears attentive and listening to the footsteps of heavy boots probably leaving dirt all over the clean entrance hallway and making their way up the stairs to the bedroom. He can sense a strange new smell, much stronger than your subtle scent. The overpowering new scent awakens his instincts and he's at the door in an instant growling and waking you up.

Much to the confusion and frustration of the dog, you're not as wary as you should be. You freely open the door and welcome the soldier who's been away for too long into your arms.

Price would be too engulfed in your embrace to notice the dog growling lowly at him. It would only be when he leans down to put away his shoes and place the duffle bag slung over his shoulder that he'd come face to face with the dog's snout sniffing him over. He'd ask where you got it from and once the dog realized there is no threat they'd get used to each other quickly.

Simon wouldn't appreciate the hair the dog has left on the side of the bed that's usually his. But he commends you for being smart and getting a dog, and not just any fluffy golden retriever, no you got a dog breed he can trust will use the best of their instincts to take care of you. He'll be at ease knowing he's not leaving you alone anymore.

Johnny would have a close call getting bitten by the doggo. Maybe warn him, yeah? But he's all over the dog, petting it, asking what's his name. And he most likely wouldn't get much sleep despite arriving late home. The dog is all excited about a new person in the house and be all over him.

Kyle tries his darn best to earn that dog's trust and convince them he's not a threat. It's not that the dog smells bad intentions from him, he just doesn't like the proximity between the both of you. Noses in between you both while you're giving Kyle a kiss on the lips. After a few treats, he got the dog to calm down and sit at the far end of the room, keeping an eye just in case lol.

Gary loves dogs and tbh he thinks this was a surprise you had planned for him. The dog can't even do his regular routine of sniffing the person because Gary is hugging him, petting and scratching behind the dog's ears. The dog loves the attention though and quickly warms up to him.

Alejandro would get a good scare at this big dog standing in the doorway watching him. Would curse loud enough his mother could surely hear from her grave and rise to throw a chancla at him. He's tired, has had a long drive and in his usual good mood would dote on the dog but not when he's on the verge of collapsing from exhaustion. Doesn't even say anything much after that and just grabs you, collapses into bed with you in his arms and falls asleep.

Rudy's first thought is that a stray dog got in and would be concerned for your safety but then sees the collar around the dog's neck and know right away he's part of the family now. And no matter how tired he is, Rudy would still sit there and with the dog resting on his lap, would ask you how you got him, where, what's his name, how you've been feeling after adopting him, etc.

Phillip doesn't pay mind to the dog, even if its growling at him and even baring teeth. Plenty of people do that to him at work, he's used to it. Man has two things in his mind since pulling into the driveway; you and rest. He takes a quick shower, doesn't even bother putting actual clothes on and just falling asleep in a towel wrapped around his waist. The dog just standing next to the bed at Phillip's side, smelling his face curiously.

Makarov isn't surprised to be greeted by dogs at the door because he's probably already owned a few big dogs but they're usually kept outside. Kicks his shoes off, which distract the snarling dog who goes after his shoes only seeing a new toy. He goes right over and starts getting ready to sleep until he turns to face your side confused to see the dog in between the both of you with his shoe in his mouth.

Keegan couldn't care less, he has no thoughts at the moment. His eyes barely register the dog who won't stop thrusting his nose into his face when he leans down to pull off his boots and socks. He just grumbles something and pushes the dog away who follows after him. He kisses you goodnight or hello, he doesn't know anymore, gives the dog a pat on the head and drifts off to sleep.

König the type to just stand there staring at the dog who stares right back at him. Surely, with how sleep deprived he is he must think it's an hallucination or maybe he's asleep and already dreaming. Reaches out, letting the dog sniff his hand and when he feels the warm breath from the dog's nostrils tickle his hand he simply nods approvingly. He'll make friends with the dog tomorrow.

Horangi would probably set off all of the dog's danger sensors because of his nature of doing things. Like he gets home, slams the door shut, his heavy footsteps making their way to you, throwing his duffle bag on the floor and tackling you (lovingly ofc duh) would make the dog think you're getting attacked.

Nikto would start asking you all sorts of question, interrogating you almost. Asking where the wolf came from, why did you get it, did you not feel safe to wait until he came back? He's asking more because he's genuinely concerned and wants to know if something specific happened that made you feel like you needed a dog as big as the one currently stuffing his nose into the pockets of his jacket.