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shotmrmiller · 2 months

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retired pornstar!Ghost who can't seem to ever keep his hands to himself whenever you're around, even when about to film.

f!reader, 18+ smut. unedited.

If you're standing at a table making coffee, he'll sneak up from behind and wrap his arms around you, his chin resting on the crown of your head.

Hi, Ghost.

G'mornin', love.

If you're walking out of Price's office with a script in hand, he's by your side in mere moments, throwing an arm over your shoulder.

"New script?"

"You should know, you're my co-star. Again."

"Lucky me, pet."

He's leading you toward his office, perches you on his desk and cups his hand over your core.

"Gonna let me eat this pretty pussy?"

"I dunno, Ghost. Gonna fuck me here too?" you smirk at him.

"Whatever you want from me," he breathes.

You stumble out hours later with swollen lips, love bites mottled over your neck and collarbone, and his warm spend trickling down your legs because Ghost pocketed your knickers.

The day of, he's texting you if you'd like a ride to the studio.

Sure thing. Get me in 15.

Yes ma'am.

He doesn't ask for your address, and you don't question why he knows where you live either. Ghost, forever the gentleman, opens the passenger door for you, and gently helps you get in. The entire drive over, his hand rested on your bare thigh, his small finger occasionally grazing your clothed cunt. By the time you arrive, your knickers are damp with your arousal.

"Somethin' wrong, love?"

You snort at his feigned innocence. "Cute. Is mercilessly teasing me fun to you?"

"Sorry 'bout tha.'" Ghost doesn't sound all that apologetic.

He brings you in tight, wrapping his arm around you firmly.

"Lemme make it up t'you in my dressin' room", he purrs.

You click your tongue. "Price'll have your head if he catches me in there, especially when we're about to make a vid."

"Be sure to keep quiet, then. Would absolutely hate to get caught."

With his smart fingers and expert tongue, you're brought to peak 3 times.

Price rolls his eyes when he spots you both walking in at the same time 15 minutes before the shoot.

"Always cheek by jowl, eh Simon?"

His piercing eyes cut to Price's. "Not a crime, last I checked."

Price lifts his hands up, palms outward in mock surrender. "Easy, Ghost. Only teasin'." He turns away, gesturing the crew to get in their places.

Ghost taps your chin with his pointer finger, drawing your attention. "Showtime, baby."

The wolfish grin on your face mirrors his.

"Showtime," you echo.

Ghost turns sex into art. He moves with discipline; every languid roll of his hips deliberate. Like a skilled painter, he transformed you into a living masterpiece, using each drag of his cock as a brush stroke on the canvas of your very being.

It's otherworldly.

He watches your face intently as he changes the angle, bites his bottom lip when he changes the pace, grunting into your ear as your walls begin to flutter— the telltale sign of 'his favorite part', as he loves to say.

"Gonna come f'me? Lemme hear that sweet, little voice of yours, pet." Almost as if following his command, you're digging your nails into his biceps, and closing your eyes in bliss as you climax. A loud, drawn-out moan escapes your lips as your cunt rhythmically pulses around Ghost's heavy length. Your soft thighs quiver around his broad waist as he works you through the aftershocks with slow, firm thrusts.

"Look at tha'. Came when I told ya to, like a good girl." Your mind is blank from your orgasm, tongue too heavy and thick in your mouth for you to even try to articulate a response.

"Creamed all over my cock, can ya hear it?" Hard not to when the wet sounds of your pussy squelching every time he bottoms out fills the room.

"You're so fuckin' tight. Cunt's squeezin' me like it doesn't want me to pull out."

His filthy words send a jolt straight to your throbbing core. "Felt tha'. What, you got a breedin' kink?"

Another jolt, so sharp it almost hurts.

"Want me to fill ya with my come? Is tha' it?" His husky voice dripping with desire. With want.

yes. yesyesyessss—

"Tell me you want me. Fuck, tell me you want me to come in you." The words fall from your spit-slick lips like a faucet.

"Come in me, oh my god, come in me. Fill my pussy up."

His thrusts lose some of their rhythm, but still not sloppy enough like when he's on the very brink.

Ghost's jaw in clenched, as if digging his heels in to hold off his climax. Well, that's simply unacceptable.

Your fingers tangle into his hair, giving him a slight tug to have his lips hover over yours.

"I want you come in me, Simon."

The change is instantaneous. His eyes widen a fraction before stealing your very breath with a searing kiss and fucks you. He puts his weight behind each snap of his hips. The tip of his cock pressing into the plug of your womb, making your eyes prickle with tears.

It's too much, he's too much, you think you've gone and bitten off more than you can chew with him when he mercifully stills with a groan you swallow— cock twitching as it pains your insides white.

He breaks away, gasping for air, sweat that beaded on his forehead dripping onto your heated skin.

Cut.

DaVinci and his muse.

Later, when he threads his fingers into your damp hair, you ask him why he doesn't record with others.

"'Cause I don't want to."

Oh?

"Besides, you and I have fantastic chemistry, dont'cha think?" He tugs on a lock of hair. "The fans love seeing us together, just as much as I love seeing my cock disappear into your sweet pussy."

He chuckles when he takes in your flustered expression. "Don't ask questions you aren't prepared to hear, then."

#call of duty #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #cod mwii #cod mw2 #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley smut #simon ghost riley x you #ghost smut #simon ghost riley x f reader #simon riley x you #ghost x reader

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annabelle--cane · 3 months

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"the magnus protocol had a whole ARG beforehand? what?"

yes! it did!

"oh so I need to have participated in this whole big thing to actually understand the podcast?"

not at all! from the official post-mortem put out by RQ, "while the ARG was not something that was necessary to participate in to understand the magnus protocol, it was designed to contain a wealth of background story and context that would enrich any player's listening experience."

"a wealth of background context that would enrich my listening experience 👀👀👀 how can I learn about this?"

SO glad you asked. sadly, many of the materials made for the arg have been taken down since the game ended 😔 (ex., the official OIAR, magnus institute, and bonzoland websites. (edit ii: I found partial wayback machine captures! see below) though @strangehauntsuk is still up!), so we're a bit low on primary sources, but in terms of learning about what happened:

for a starting point, I would really recommend this video by @pinkelotjeart

youtube

it's super accessible, it was made in real time as the game progressed and follows the solving and revelation of clues as they happened, it hits all the major points of the mystery and moments of community insanity while eliding some of the nitty gritty puzzle grinding, 10/10 would recommend.

here's the official summary put out by RQ, and I'd recommend reading through this once you've already gotten a basic handle on the flow of the story and the basic connections between major clues and events. it's got some fun behind-the-scenes info and lays out the thought process behind the puzzles in simple terms

here's the full masterdoc of all puzzles and resolutions put together in the statement remains discord server. masterdoc my absolute BELOVED, masterdoc my bethrothed, masterdoc my soul mate. I'd recommend this as a second port of call after the above video as it either contains all details about the puzzles or links to other expanded docs that do.

here's the narrative summary doc that lays out all the plot and lore discovered in three pages of plain prose. if you just want to get to the good bits as fast as you can and get blasted directly in the face by contextless lore bombs, this is the doc for you. if you don't want to start with the video, I'd say this is another good entry point.

once you've got the lay of the land, some of the game materials that I found particularly interesting include:

the in-universe east germany expat usenet forum, with all content translated into english. most of it is irrelevant space filler with occasional extremely sus lore, but I still found it fun to read through. love to soak in some fictional forum drama.

chdb.xlsx, the spreadsheet of the names of all the children the protocol 'verse magnus institute was studying/experimenting on. EDIT: here is a version of the sheet without any annotations and with all of the names in their original order, kudos to @theboombutton for catching that the commonly shared copy had the order swapped around.

klaus.xls, a (very corrupted) spreadsheet with what looks like the classifications of a bunch of old OIAR cases.

EDIT: have a few more saved materials from the game that I forgot to include.

an in-universe audio ad to apply to the OIAR that ran before archives episodes and kicked off the whole game.

an in-universe video ad to apply to the OIAR, this one is an official upload that's still up from the game itself. you can subscribe to the OIAR's official youtube channel today, if you so chose.

the robo-voicemail greeting from the OIAR's phone line.

EDIT II:

here is a wayback machine capture of the OIAR's official website.

here is a wayback machine capture of the bonzoland website.

(pretty sure both of the above captures just archived the home pages, though I haven't tried clicking all of the links. I'd say they're still worth looking at, the home pages give a good window into the vibes.)

once you start poking around in these documents, you'll find a bunch of links to others with further information, the materials I've included here just contain what I feel to be the most relevant details to getting a broad feel for the whole game. once again, huge shout out to the statement remains server, I was barely in there as the ARG was in progress and only ducked my head in every so often to find links like these. true mvps of the fandom.

#gonna pin this for a bit because every day I get 2-5 asks saying 'there was an arg? how do I learn about it?'#tmagp #video #marina marvels at life

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thestuffedalligator · 11 months

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The goblin looked at the orc. The orc looked at the goblin. They both looked down at the crumpled shape of the Overlord, His Unholy Majesty, in his obsidian armor.

His final spasms had been mesmerizingly acrobatic. The fall down the steps leading up to his iron throne had pretzelled his body quite impressively, both arms folded behind his back and one leg bent at a jaunty angle.

The goblin looked at the orc. The orc looked at the goblin.

"Shit," said the goblin.

"Shit," said the orc.

"We're likely to get blamed for this," the goblin said. She walked over to the head of the glittering mangled heap and started pulling the helmet off.

"It's not our fault," the orc said. "It's hard to help someone choking when they wear two-hundred pounds of spiked armor at all times."

"Yeah, well," the goblin grunted. The helmet came free, and the bald head of the Overlord bounced on the stone with a hollow, coconut noise. "You know how it is in this bloody country - thieves get their heads cut off so they can't think about thieving, and all that." She fished in the Overlord's mouth with a finger and pulled out the obstructing olive on the end of her claw.

She popped it into her mouth and chewed. "What do you reckon they do for a regicide?" she said.

"We should run," the orc said. She had started bouncing her leg. "I hear that there's some places in the Alliance where they just kill you and let you stay dead. That's got to be nicer than what'll happen if we stay here."

The goblin started to nod - and then her gaze fell on the helmet.

It looked like a pineapple designed by a deranged blacksmith. It was all thorns and spikes and hard edges, as though the maker had been very determined to not let pigeons roost on it. The only bits that weren't solid iron were eyeholes. Nobody had ever seen the Overlord's face.

She held up the helmet and squinted from it to the orc. One of the thorns had been bent badly in the fall.

Nobody had ever seen the Overlord's face...

"Right," she muttered. "Right. Could work - or."

The orc had a sudden vision of the immediate future. "No," she said.

"I mean you're about his height-"

"No."

"It would just be for a-"

"Absolutely not."

"Just hear me out," the goblin said. "Outside of this room are two-thousand men and orcs and goblins who are absolutely gonzo about this man, and there's a whole country of them outside of the castle, and at any moment someone's going to walk in that door and see one dead tit in black armor and two unbelievably dead idiots next to him.

"Or." She tossed the helmet up like a basketball to the orc, who fumbled and tried to find somewhere to hold it that wasn't a knife's edge. "We chuck him out the window now, walk out the door in the armor, and ditch the armor as soon as nobody sees us."

The orc had started bouncing her leg again. "They'll know something's up the second I walk out of the room."

"No worries," said the goblin. "Leave that to me."

---

It had been a very strange year for the Empire.

Change had rolled across the land as slow and inevitable as a glacier. Roads and bridges carved the gray, blasted wildlands, and a number of social reforms had made the country a place where you could be miserable, yes, but miserable in comfort and safety, and that was an improvement.

Barely anyone got boiled alive in molten metal, and even if the disgusted sun never rose to light the Empire, at least you had a roof over your head to protect yourself from the acid rain.

"Your empire flourishes, Your Unholy Majesty," the magician said over her wine glass. She looked down from the tower's balcony over the gleaming stone battlements. Some work had been done to line the castle and surrounding city with sizzling, crackling alchemical lights at night. The whole thing glowed like something dangerously radioactive.

The suit of armor waved a languid, glittering gauntlet over to the goblin, who bowed.

"His Abominable Gloriousness Thanks You," the goblin recited. "The Prosperity Of His Empire Can Only Be Achieved Through The Prosperity Of His People."

"If I may be so bold, I am quite pleased that you had chosen to take my counsel under consideration," said the magician. "We have accomplished many things together."

Another wave. Another bow. "The Overlord, May His Presence Swallow The Sun And Stars, Thanks You As Well."

"It was quite gratifying to see you change your mind, after so many centuries of denial." The wine was swirled. "Tell me, what was it that finally gave you cause to listen to me?"

There was the slightest hesitation. The goblin's eyes flicked to the armor, then to the magician. She puffed out her chest. "Do you question the wisdom of His Austere Lugubriousness?" she asked.

The magician looked at the goblin. She looked at the armor. She tipped her head back and drank the wine too quickly.

She looked back at the armor. "I know you're the orc, you moron," she said.

The room went deathly still. An alchemical light fizzled.

The orc pulled off the helmet, sending long, untied hair down tangling, and said: "How could you possibly-"

"Because you're both idiots!" the magician said. The goblin jumped. The orc jumped with a noise like a dropped stove. "What kind of a plan was this?! If it wasn't for me, you would have been turned into fertilizer months ago."

She closed her eyes. She took a long, dramatic breath. She set the wine glass down on the balcony rail.

"How did the Overlord die?" she asked when she seemed like she had gotten a hold over herself.

"Choked on an olive," said the goblin.

"Threw his body out the window," said the orc.

"You don't have to mention the window," said the goblin.

"Right," said the orc. "Sorry."

The magician looked out over the city, hand curled thoughtfully under her nose. "Who knows about this?"

"Just us. And, uh. You. Apparently."

"And why did you accept my counsel?"

The orc blinked. "Sorry?"

"Why did you accept my counsel?" the magician repeated.

"Well," the orc said. "Well - you seemed like you had good ideas-"

"Great ideas!" the goblin said with an edge of desperation. "Don't know why the old bastard didn't listen to you!"

"Right - right," said the orc. "And when we figured we were stuck doing this - well, it just made sense, really."

The magician seemed to absorb this. She nodded. "All right," she said, striding between the two and grabbing the crystal decanter.

"Um," said the orc. "Sorry. What happens now?"

"What happens is that you two will continue to serve as Overlord," said the magician. "You will continue to take my counsel. We will continue to reform this bloody country, and gods willing, we will turn it into the crown jewel of the world by next Midwinter."

The orc looked at the goblin. The goblin looked at the orc.

"Really?" the goblin asked.

"Oh yes," said the magician. "I've worked hard to be counsel to the Overlord, and I have no reason to stop now. And besides-"

She looked the orc up and down with a deliberate slowness, poring over every microscopic detail, eyes tracing over every jagged line, and grinned like a panther.

"You look much better in the armor than he ever did," she said. Dark robes swirled like a becleavaged thundercloud, and she strode out through the high iron doors, decanter in hand.

The goblin looked at the orc. The orc looked at the goblin.

"Shit," said the goblin.

"Shit," said the orc.

#short story #fantasy writing #narrativia #10k

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stranger-awakening · 10 months

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ok theme update besties !!!! i’m orange now !!! still jonathan for my icon and mobile header because i simply cannot abandon him but new desktop sidebar picture from my silly little comics and new blog title from the newest one piece trailer because it makes me so so crazy

#can't believe we got this quote in the trailer and the fact that we're getting it in the show at all like good god my Rights #like this was For Me do y'all know this???#sidebar pic is from the run i'm currently reading yes i am very very very behind i simply dont Keep Up with comics that much #but i love my boys and i love when they get to be brothers :')#anyways i like it a lot i haven't been bright/vibrant in a minute it's a vibe :)#jess rants about life

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angelltheninth · 3 months

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Back in the Dating Game

Pairing: Lucifer Morningstar x Fem!Reader

Tags: fluff, new relationship, first date, phone calls, being flustered, gifts, kissing, poly Lucilith, Lucifer Morningstar is a gentleman and silly

Word count: 1.2k

Summary: After a while of dancing around it you and Lucifer are finally going on a date. He's been freaking out about it and goes to ask the only person he can for advice, his daughter, Charlie.

A/N: This came to me at like 2 in the morning and I thought it was hilarious.

Over a month has passed since Charlie and her friends battle with Adam and Hell is slowly going back to... it's usual brand of chaos. Lucifer however has his own worries past Hell's current affairs. His upcoming date.

"It's a date. A date. You've been on dates before. You're the King of Hell!" He yelled at his own reflection, ferocious at first and then sunk back down into his chair. "Like ten thousand years ago. Ugh. Why is it still so hard. I gotta find someone who... wait... that's it!"

He rushed out the door of his bedroom, greeting one Hotel staff member after the other, even Alastor, although he swore that the Radio Demon tried to trip him. It was still early morning so he choose to leave him be. For now.

"Charlie can I- oh- oh my golly-!" Lucifer was has never looked away faster in his life, his long, long life.

"Dad! What the FUCK is wrong with you?!" Charlie kicked her legs so fast one of her hooves smacked Vaggie in the face. "Shit! Vaggie I'm so sorry! Are you bleeding! Oh my god you are!"

Vaggie put her hand up and instead of bothering to stop the bleeding searched for her nightgown. There were few things worse then getting caught between her girlfriend's legs.

"Are uh... you two dressed now?" Lucifer coughed awkwardly as he listened to the commotion behind him. "I'm so sorry I didn't know you two were- I mean it's fine you're girlfriends and sex is a very natural-"

"Dad, please don't. You can turn around just... knock next time." Lucifer turned around, one hand still on his face, "You can look, we're dressed."

The King of Hell cleared his throat, standing there for a few more moments before walking over to a chair and sitting down. "Soooo... wings huh? Hey, me too! Aha-haaa!" He grinned way to much, trying to break the awkward atmosphere. "Charlie... you like girls right?"

"Yes? Didn't you just... dad, what's going on?"

He gulped, tapping his fingers on his cane, "There's this woman I've kind of, maybe, soft of been seeing and... well your old man's been out of the dating game for the past ten thousand years. It's... I'm nervous about the date tonight." He was out of breath by the time he finished talking, almost shaking.

Charlie and Vaggie looked at each other, and a moment later Charlie exploded with excitement.

"Who is she? When did you meet? Did you kiss yet? Is she as pretty as mom? Does she like singing? Have you kissed yet or not?! Wait I already asked that!"

"Charlie, Charlie calm down! This is gonna be our first official date. Your mom gave a thumbs up? We didn't talk much though. I really think this-" A phone rang in his pocket, "Oh! Oh god! It's her! What do I do?!"

"Pick up the phone?" Vaggie suggested.

"Good idea Gabby! That's why I like you!" That wasn't even close to her name but okay, he was under a lot of stress. "What do I say?"

"Just... be yourself?" Not helpful.

"Myself. Okay. I'm Lucifer. The King of Hell!" He took a deep breath and pressed answer, "Hey bitch!"

Both Charlie and Vaggie faceplalmed, Vaggie cringing more because of her busted nose and lip.

"Uhm, hey Lucifer. Are we still on for tonight?" You asked with no small amount of stress of your own. You were getting a date with the King of Hell, it was scary and exciting at the same time.

"Of course we're on! We are gonna get it on! Not like that, no! I uh... want to..." He looked to the side where both Charlie and Vaggie made X gestures with their arms, "Make you an X?"

You laughed at how nervous he sounded too, "Already dumping me? You haven't even kissed me yet. I'm not that bad at it, I promise."

"No, no I don't mean... I look forward to seeing you tonight. It will be the best, most romantic, the most magical shit you've ever seen... baby?" Lucifer tried to chuckle but it sounded very forced.

"Well okay then. Sweep me off my feet, my good sir." Look at you, already using petnames for each other.

"S-Sir...?" His mind was already going places that were very much not appropriate in front of his daughter and her girlfriend, "See you tonight!" He ended the call, "That went well. Wish me luck Charlie! Oh and use protection! Your old man ain't ready to be a grandpa yet."

"Daaad!" Charlie blushed a deep red as Lucifer stepped through a portal and back into his room.

The knock at your door was quick and hard, and a few minutes early. But you knew who it was, the hat and the wings were a dead giveaway. You checked your outfit and make-up in the mirror one last time before opening the door and beholding the King of Hell himself holding out flowers for you with a shy smile on his face.

"Hope these aren't too much for a first date." He handed them off to you. "They're alive! They're gonna be great houseguards when they grow fully." Good, then you wouldn't have to feed them. The demons breaking into your home will do that.

"Thank you, I'm sure they'll be lovely." You put them aside and took his hand as he tapped his cane on the floor and opened a portal to a restaurant you haven't been to before. It looked much too fancy, but not for the King. "Wow."

Lucifer pulled out a chair for you but tripped over his own. "I'm okay!"

He was such a goof ball.

"I uh... look, I need to be honest with you. I haven't been on a date in a while. I don't know how to do... this. I walked in on my daughter with her girlfriend today because I couldn't figure out how to talk to you!" He leaned against his chair and ran his hand across his face, his red cheeks reddening even more.

"Lucifer, it's fine." You reached for his hand, "You're the King of Hell. I was scared to go out with you, I didn't know what to expect. Your reputation is pretty intimidating. But I'm glad you're not that guy."

"And what kind of guy am I?" He leaned in, so interested in what you had to say. He'd been judged for so long, for all the wrong things, he had to know what you think.

"Really funny, someone who cares about his family, charming, and dare I say devilishly handsome." You pushed yourself over the desk and kissed him on the cheek, in front of everyone. "And so cute when you blush." You whispered and looked at him with hooded eyes. Lucifer didn't reply but you did see his tail moving behind him. "Puppy energy. Interesting."

"Oh no, I'm not into pet play. But I'm sure we can find other things we're both into." His eyebrows wiggled as he let his long tongue curl at you. You clenched your legs, excited for more dates with him if this is the energy he's gonna bring every time.

#hazbin hotel x reader #lucifer morningstar x reader #lucifer x reader #hazbin hotel imagine #lucifer morningstar imagine #lucifer imagine #hazbin hotel headcanon #hazbin hotel fanfiction #lucifer morningstar headcanon #lucifer morningstar fanfiction #lucifer headcanons #lucifer fanfiction #hazbin hotel fluff #lucifer morningstar fluff #lucifer fluff #hazbin hotel #lucifer morningstar #lucifer #x female reader

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inkskinned · 3 months

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you have to go to work so you can pay for your doctor, who is not taking your insurance right now, and if you say i can't afford the doctor's you are told - get a better job. it is very sad that you are unwell, yes, but maybe you should have thought about that before not having a better job.

(where is the better job? who is giving out these better jobs? you are sick, you are hurting - how the hell are you supposed to be well enough for this better job?)

but you go to the doctor because you had the nerve to be hurt or sick or whatever else. and they tell you that it is because you have anxiety. you try your best. you are a self-advocate. you've done the reading (which sometimes pisses them off worse, honestly). you say it is actually adding to my anxiety, it is effecting my quality of life. so they say that you are fat. they say that all young people have this happen to them, isn't it a medical marvel! they say that you should eat more vegetables. they say that you probably just need to lose a little more weight, and that you are faking it for attention.

(what attention could this doctor possibly give? what validation? that's their fucking job, isn't it?)

there is always a hypochondriac, right. someone always tells you about a hypochondriac. or someone who is unnecessarily aggressive during the worst days of their life. or someone looking "for a quick fix". or some idiot who wasn't educated about how to properly care for themselves who just abandons their treatment. and again, the hypochondriac, the overly-cautious hysteric. these people don't deserve to be treated like humans (right), and since you might be one of these people, you also don't get treated like a human. because those people can really fuck with the system, you now have to pay for it. and besides. you're actually probably faking it.

(more often than not, you find a 2:1 ratio of these stories. for every "hypochondriac", there are 2 people who knew something was wrong, and yet nobody could fucking find it. the story often ends with pointless suffering. the story often ends with and now it's too late, and it's going to kill me.)

you are actually just making excuses. someone else got that procedure or that diagnosis and he's fine, you should be fine too. someone else said they watched a documentary about other inspirational people with your exact same condition, maybe you should be inspirational, too. you're just too morbid. your pain and your experience is probably just not statistically concerning. it is all self-reported anyway, and you're just being a baby.

(once, while sitting down in the middle of making coffee, you had the sudden, horrible thought - i could kill myself to make the pain stop. you had to call your best friend after that. had to pet your dog. had to cry about it in the shower. you won't, but that moment - god, fuck. the pain just goes on and on.)

you know someone who went in for routine surgery and said i still feel everything. they told her to just relax. it took her kicking and screaming before they figured out she wasn't lying - the anesthetic drip hadn't been working. you know someone who went in for severe migraines who was told drink water and lose weight. you know someone who was actively bleeding out and throwing up in the ER and was told you're just having a bad period.

in the ER there are always these little posters saying things like "don't wait! get checked today!" and you think about how often you do wait. how often the days spool out. you once waited a full week before seeing the doctor for what you thought was a sprained wrist. it had actually been broken - they had to rebreak it to set it.

but you go into the doctor. the problem you're having is immediate. the person behind the counter frowns and says we're not taking your insurance. you will be paying for this out-of-pocket.

they send you home with tylenol and a little health packet about weight loss or anxiety or attention deficit. on the front it has your birthday and diagnosis. you think about crying, and the words swim. it might as well say go fuck yourself. it might as well say you're a fucking idiot. it might as well say light your money on fire and lie down in it. and the entire fucking time - the problem persists.

it's okay. it's okay, it's just another thing, you think. it's just another thing i have to learn to live with.

#spilled ink #warm up #can you tell what i'm mad about today specifically #i will say that there are a LOT of things that go into this. like a lot. this is ungendered and unspecific for a reason #it isn't just sexism. it's also racism. and ableism. and honestly classism.#and before a healthcare professional reads this as a personal attack: i understand ur burnt out #we are ALSO burnt out. your situation is also dire. this is not an attack on you.#this is a commentary on the incredible amounts of bigotry that lie at the heart of capitalism #where people have to pay money out of pocket to be told to fuck off.#your job is important. so is our humanity. and if you cannot accept that people are fucking mad as hell #at the industry - you are probably not listening .#anyway at some point im gonna write a piece about sexism specifically in medical shit #but i don't want terfs clowning in it bc they can't understand nuance #> it is true that ppl w/a uterus are more likely to experience medical malpractice & dismissal globally #> it is also true that trans people experience an equally fucked up and bad time in the medical field #> great news! the medical industrial complex is an equal opportunity life ruiner :)#(if you find it necessary to go into a debate about biology while discussing medical malpractice #i want to warn you that you're misunderstanding the issue. because guess what.#cis MEN might experience this. particularly black men. particularly disabled men.#so YES having a uterus can lead to more trouble for you. but this happens a LOT.#instead of fighting those ALSO experiencing your pain.... try working WITH them.#which btw. is like. actual feminism.)

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soaps-mohawk · 2 months

Text

Cherry Red, Crimson Blood

Chapter 9: Save Me

Summary: You find yourself confronting feelings as you move past the events that caused your distress, and as your heat begins looming closer and closer.

Pairings: Poly 141 x reader

Warnings: Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, Alternate Universe, a/b/o typical classism and sexism, military inaccuracies, language, angst, panic, PTSD, mention of weapons, slight suggestive content

A/N: I feel like a broken record but I really don't like this one either, but I'm so ready to just get to this point in the story lol. I feel like I've dragged it on long enough. We're definitely reaching a point where things are shifting and changing and things might seem like they're moving kind of fast. Sorry for all the choppy time jumps too, I just wanted to get to this point in the fic 😭

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A knock on the door pulls you from sleep. You groan quietly, wrapping your arms tighter around the pillow you're cuddling.

That pillow lets out its own groan, moving slightly.

“Gotta get up, love. Answer the door.” Your pillow grumbles, shifting in your hold.

You're wrapped around Gaz still, clinging to him tightly. You vaguely remember an alarm going off and Gaz rolling over to turn it off before you slipped back into sleep. Gaz had apparently fallen back asleep as well, or at least had stayed with you after both of your alarms going off.

Gaz carefully untangles your limbs from around him, slipping a pillow into your arms before rising from the bed. He stretches his arms over his head, a sliver of skin visible as he does so. You stare at it until he lowers his arms, your eyes already slipping closed again as he opens the door.

You hear quiet voices, the words lost on you as you slip further and further into a daze of sleep.

Until the smell of food hits your nose. Your stomach growls loudly, and you lift your head, squinting sleepily as you search for the source of the delicious smell.

“Morning, sweetheart.” Price's voice rumbles through your ears, his hand warm as it brushes over your head. “How do you feel?”

You let out another groan, leaning into his touch as his hand strokes your hair. You’re still sore, muscles aching like you had spent the entire day yesterday training. You feel less emotionally drained, not quite so overwhelmed to the point of near numbness now.

“Dr. Keller wants to see you after you’ve eaten.” Price says, pulling his hand back.

You let out a quiet whine, trying to chase his hand. He chuckles, gently nudging you back so you don’t topple off your bed. He slips his hands under your arms, moving you so you’re sitting on the bed. Your cheeks warm at how easily he does it, that warmth heating to an inferno as he sits on the edge of your bed with the bowl of porridge in his hand. You’re suddenly very awake as he holds out a spoonful to you, and you feel as if your face might burst into flames. His eyes are focused, lips turning up in a small smile as you let him feed you. You know it’s appeasing his alpha, just based on the pride practically beaming from him.

You hold his gaze as he feeds you the porridge, skin prickling from the attention as you cling to the stuffed strawberry in your lap. You can imagine him in your nest, holding you against his chest, feeding you in your heat-induced daze, making sure you eat and get plenty of fluids.

“You alright in there?” He asks, scanning your face.

You nod, trying to calm the inferno under your skin. “Yeah. Just thinking.”

The content smile on his face shifts, morphing into a smirk. “Must be some good thoughts, then.”

You nod, taking the glass of water he offers you and downing it.

“Get yourself dressed, then we’ll go see Dr. Keller.” He says, pushing himself up to stand.

“Yes, sir.” You nod again, letting out a yawn.

“If you’re not up in ten minutes, I’ll be forced to make you get up.” He says, giving you a playful smirk before leaving and closing the door behind him.

Your face warms again at his words. You’re half tempted to burrow back under the covers, if only to see if he’d follow through with that threat.

Dr. Keller said it would be a good idea.

You tell yourself that as you stand in Price’s office. The door is closed behind you, sealing you both inside together. His scent is heavy in the air, making your head spin. You wonder how long he’s been sitting at his desk, how long he’s been shut inside today.

“Grab a pillow.” He says, his voice thick and heavy. He sounds tired, and you wonder how much he slept last night. If he slept at all.

Your slippers make a scuffing sound as you shuffle over to the couch, grabbing the pillow you had used last time. You move over to him as he leans back in the chair, taking your spot next to him. You sit back on your heels, letting out a breath as you try and relax. His hand strokes the back of your head, giving you a moment to adjust to his touch before he slides it down to the back of your neck.

You fight the instinctual urge to protect yourself, stopping your shoulders from lifting to try and force his hand away. You’re still not quite used to it, the vulnerability making your omega squirm, especially after the events that took place yesterday.

You know you can trust Price, but your omega wants to bristle at everything right now. Perhaps you’re picking up on Price’s own exhaustion, his own stress bleeding into you.

His fingers press into your neck and your body relaxes almost immediately. Your mind begins to clear, and you feel as if you’re floating away from your body. All the emotions and the stress and the soreness in your body fades as you relax into Price’s hold. Warmth begins to flood your body as your omega finally settles, nearly preening as your alpha takes control, taking the weight of the world off your shoulders.

You can’t see Price’s gaze on you as he watches you kneel for him, lost in his own thoughts. How easily you relax for him, how trusting you are of him in this moment. You’re putting your entire being in his hands and trusting him with it, even though you’re practically still strangers. It hasn’t even been three full weeks since your arrival in their lives and already so much has happened. It feels like things are moving so quickly, but he knows they could move faster.

If he were a worse man, a worse alpha, he would have claimed you already. Taken what was his to take and cared little for you and your needs.

He’s not going to be that kind of alpha. He decided that a long time ago, long before you came into the picture.

You fall into him limply as he eases his hand from your neck, letting you rest against him and breathe in his scent. Your nose presses into his neck, your warm little breaths causing goosebumps to form on his skin. A quiet sound rumbles in your chest as you press closer to him, getting louder as you breathe him in.

You’re...purring.

Pride wells within him again. You’re comfortable enough to purr around him. He did that. He made you feel safe and comfortable enough to open up that much.

He slips his arms around you, rising from the floor to move to the couch. You continue to purr, the sound vibrating through you and straight to his inner alpha. The sound begins before he can stop it, his own chest vibrating as he answers your purr with one of his own.

He holds you close to his chest, purring contently as you slowly drift off in your relaxed state. Eventually your purrs die off as sleep takes you, but he continues to sit there, his own purrs vibrating in his chest as if they can reach through and soothe you even in your sleep.

“Too tight?”

You move your wrists, pulling slightly at the restraints. “No.” You shake your head.

“Good.” He runs a hand over your head, tugging at the vest, making sure it’s secured before he steps back. “Alright?”

You nod, shifting slightly in the wooden chair. “Yes, sir.”

“Remember, it’ll be fast and intense, but they’ll take good care of you. Don��t forget to play it up a bit. It’s good to know if they can focus in this situation.” Price says, running his hand over your head again. “And I’ll be watching the entire time.”

He leans down, pressing a kiss on your forehead before he leaves the room, the beta outside the door pulling it closed behind him. You tug at the restraints habitually, even though you could get out of them easily. Just like you could get out of the vest strapped to your chest and the chair you’re sitting in easily.

Hostage rescue training was not how you expected to spend your Thursday morning, but you suppose there are worse things you could be doing besides being restrained in a chair with a fake bomb strapped to your chest.

Price had told you about their training yesterday. You hadn’t expected to hear about how you were going to play hostage when he summoned you to his office, but it had been far too formal a request to be something simple. You had been hesitant when he explained, but the risk was small. They weren’t using live bullets, and the bomb strapped to your chest was hardly more than a bunch of wires and a timer counting down. Price had even ensured the restraints weren’t too tight, and had shown you how to slip out of them easily.

The worst part had been your mind running rampant while he secured the rope around your wrists.

You hear the distant sound of the helicopter dropping them off, the entire mood in the house shifting. The betas outside have a role to play, and so do you.

The sound of the door outside getting kicked in makes you jump, your heart rate kicking up. You know it’s them, you know it’s fake, yet you can’t help but let the emotions in the moment get to you.

They don’t know it’s you they’re rescuing.

Price hadn’t told them you were involved. He wanted to see if they could keep their heads in a situation like this. It’s important to know. Gives them something to work on if they can’t.

You hear the pop of the fake guns outside the door before two solid thuds shake the door in front of you. You hold your breath, your fingers shaking in the excitement and adrenaline as the door flies open. You flinch out of instinct, blinking at them as the three enter the room. It suddenly seems smaller with them in it, their surprise not lost to you, even in the tenseness of the situation. You know you’re scent is thick in the room, cutting through the trained laser focus in their minds as they run through a drill they’ve probably done countless times.

Something they’ve probably done in real life situations as well.

“Easy, sunshine.” Soap says, kneeling down in front of you. “Gonna get ye out of here.”

“You can defuse that, right?” Gaz asks, standing behind him. You know they’re both trained in demolitions. You remember that from their files.

“Course I can.” Soap says, looking at the wires.

The timer starts beeping in warning, your heart rate picking up instinctively. There wasn’t anything that would actually explode if he failed, but you can’t help the chill of fear settling in as he messes with the wires.

“Come on, Johnny.” Ghost says from behind you.

“I got it.” Soap growls out, sweat beading on his forehead.

You stare at him, your heart pounding in your chest. Time seems to slow as he studies the wires, the timer continuing to beep as it counts down. Even though you’re not in any danger, you still feel the fear welling inside you. He does know what he’s doing, he wouldn’t be in this position in the first place if he didn’t. Yet you can see the struggle, the hesitation, the uncertainty in his gaze.

He wouldn’t let you die, right?

“Ten seconds.” Gaz warns.

“Johnny?” You breathe, voice cracking as you meet his bright blue eyes.

He mutters a curse before cutting one of the wires. The tenseness in the room is palpable for a moment as all four of you hold your breath. The silence is loud, the timer on the fake bomb sitting still at six seconds. Soap’s head falls forward to rest against your chest as he breathes a sigh of relief. You’re shaking, fingers trembling as Ghost cuts the rope around your wrists.

“Hostage secure.” Gaz says into their comms.

“I wasnae gonna let ye die, sunshine.” Soap says, removing the vest from your body.

“Kinda felt like it.” You murmur as he helps you out of the chair, your legs shaking a bit from the adrenaline.

“Come on.” Ghost says as soon as Soap has you on your feet. “Captain’s waiting.”

Your legs still feel unsteady as you follow them out of the building and across the grass, hand clutched tightly in Soap’s. The fabric of his glove is rough against your skin, but you can still feel the warmth of his hand in yours. You lean against his side as you reach Price across the field, not missing the way his gaze scans you head to toe quickly before he addresses the others.

“Not bad,” Price says. “And the hostage is in one piece.”

You’re still shaking a little, but you can’t stop the smile that tugs at your lips. “Was kind of fun, actually, getting tied up and stuff.”

Soap and Gaz both let out groans at your words, Ghost rolling his eyes at your cheeky smile. The corner of Price’s lips twitch, and you can’t help but beam with pride at eliciting such a reaction.

“Let’s get back to base, and we’ll go over the specifics.” Price says.

You wind up in the back seat of one of the cars with Soap, his arm draped across the back of the seat. You’re leaning into his side, his fingers brushing your arm every so often as the car drives down the bumpy road.

“Ye called me Johnny.” He says quietly, leaning in closer to you.

You stare up at him. “You were going to let me explode.”

“I was not.” He says, looking offended. “I knew wha’ I was doin’” His brows pinch together, his hand cupping the back of your head. “I would never let anythin’ happen to you.”

“I know.” You say, leaning your head on his shoulder. “At least I hope so. Blowing up is kind of a shitty way to die.”

He huffs out a laugh. “Well, if it happened that way, ye wouldn’t be goin’ out alone.” He presses a kiss to your forehead. “Ye can call me Johnny anytime you want.”

You smile, snuggling deeper into his side. “Okay, Johnny.”

Your smile only widens as you pick up the subtle rumbling purr sounding from his chest.

“How are things?”

“Fine.” You shrug, sinking back in the chair.

“I heard you took part in the hostage training. How did that go?” Dr. Keller asks.

“It was fine, kind of intense but also kind of fun.” You shrug again, a smile tugs at your lips. “They didn’t know I was the hostage, so that was fun to see their reactions.”

“Was that reassuring to see them in action and have them pretend to rescue you? I know we’ve talked about that fear briefly.” Dr. Keller says.

“In a way, I guess.” You say. “At least, I know they could do it if they had to. I mean, not that I don’t trust that they couldn’t, but...it’s different.”

“It’s different when it’s someone you care about.” Dr. Keller says. “How are you feeling? I know we talked earlier this week, but distressing is a serious thing to go through.”

“I’m alright.” You say, picking at your jeans. “Not sore anymore. Price called off training for a while to let us both kind of figure things out.”

“Have you spoken to Lieutenant Riley since Monday?” She asks.

You nod. “Yeah. A couple times. I didn’t accept his apology, not that he really said sorry directly, but he at least...explained some things.”

“And it is totally within your right to not forgive him.” Dr. Keller says. “I applaud you for putting up that boundary. I know it’s not easy, but sometimes people need to work to prove themselves again.” She makes herself comfortable on the couch, staring at you. “How have you been aside from all the excitement? Have you started nesting yet?”

You shake your head, biting your lip. “No. I-I feel more comfortable now that I have things for my room, but...I still don’t feel like nesting.”

Dr. Keller hums, staring at you for a moment before she writes something down. “What do you think is causing this hesitance in your instincts?”

Your mouth opens in surprise at her question, not quite expecting it. You had spoken last week about things you might be able to do to help if you weren’t nesting by now. You had expected to start throwing out ideas in that regard, not that you would be digging into why.

“I’d like you to be honest with me. Remember this conversation will only ever be between us. No one else is going to hear this, no one else will ever see my notes. It’s just you and me.” She leans forward, putting her elbows on her knees as she stares at you. “Would you have chosen to be in a place like this, if it were up to you?”

“It wasn’t up to me. It never was.” You say, starting to sweat nervously a bit. It’s getting warm in the office.

“I know, but hypothetically speaking. If you had the option to choose, would you have chosen a place like this? A military pack?”

You stare at your hands, fighting the emotions welling up inside you. You wouldn’t have. You know that, you’ve thought about it over and over. You wouldn’t have put yourself in this position. You would have gone as far from the military and politics as you could have, had it been up to you. You want something quiet and easy with an alpha that loves you and takes care of you. Not...not this.

You’re crying. You can’t stop the tears that are trailing down your cheeks. You feel guilty for thinking that way. It’s not your choice, it would have never been your choice. You’re supposed to be a good omega and be okay going wherever you’re told to, with whatever pack picks you.

They hadn’t chosen you.

They hadn’t wanted you here. Price had fought against your addition to their pack up until you arrived. You know Ghost has his own opinions about your presence here. They had been told they were getting an omega and you had been told you were going to be that omega.

Would they have chosen you?

You wouldn’t have wanted them to.

Dr. Keller says your name quietly, her tone sympathetic as you sit there and cry. You’re crying for the life you were supposed to have, the life you could have had, the many things that would have been different had you just been a good pup and presented like you were supposed to.

“I don’t want to be here.” You sob, burying your face into your hands.

You feel guilty, admitting it, even if it is the truth. Your pack has been nothing but kind and supportive, aside from the incident earlier this week. You like them, all things considered. You can imagine yourself being happy with them. Was it what you wanted, though? Was this where you would have elected to spend the rest of your life?

No.

“Can you tell me why?” Dr. Keller asks softly.

Her question only makes you cry harder. You could. You could tell her exactly why. You don’t want to bring up those feelings, those memories, those emotions. You want to leave them behind in the past, buried under everything you learned that made you such a good omega. It would ruin everything, if that got out, if those feelings came to light again.

Your breaths are coming in gasps as you sob, Dr. Keller rising from the couch. She grabs a stuffed animal from her closet, walking back over to you. She eases it into your arms, pressing it against your chest.

“Squeeze. It will help.” She directs you, dropping to a knee beside you. “This has something to do with the military, doesn't it?” She says softly, putting a hand on your back. “I know your father served and you spent most of your childhood on bases. Was there something that happened?”

You take deep breaths, squeezing the bear against your chest as tight as you can. “I can’t.” You sob, shaking your head. “I can’t.”

“Okay.” She says, gently rubbing your back. “That’s okay. Deep breaths.”

You continue to breathe, trying to calm the tears. Dr. Keller continues to rub your back, trying to ensure you don't slip into distress again. The calming beta scent floods your nose, reaching back into your brain to calm the turmoil.

Slowly your breaths begin to even out, and the tears slow to a stop. You’re still clutching the stuffed bear to your chest, arms wrapped around it tight.

“You’re doing a good job.” Dr. Keller says, grabbing a box of tissues for you. “You’re handling this whole situation better than I think a lot of omegas would. But, that doesn’t mean you have to be okay with it. I’d be more concerned if you weren’t struggling a bit. You don’t have to tell me everything, you don’t have to tell me anything. It’s all up to you. I just want you to know that I’m not going to judge you for anything, and I’m not going to tell anyone anything. I’m here for you, and you alone.”

You slowly release your grip on the bear, your hands still shaking a bit. Dr. Keller moves back to the couch as you stare down at the plastic eyes, running your fingers over its soft fur.

“I do think it would be a good idea to address the nesting issue sooner rather than later.” Dr. Keller says, still speaking softly. “We don’t have to get into the why until you feel comfortable enough to, but you need a nest before your heat starts. I have a couple exercises in mind to help maybe jumpstart those instincts, but we’ll need Captain Price in on this issue as well for them to work. I can speak for him on your behalf, if you’d like. I won’t tell him any details.” She says as your eyes dart up to look at her. “Only that there’s a nesting issue and there’s some exercises I’d like the two of you to try.”

You let your gaze drop back to the bear. You know you need to start nesting, and with your heat rapidly approaching, you’re beginning to be pressed for time. Your heat could start as soon as next week and if you don’t have a nest...

“I guess that’s fine.” You say, staring back down at the bear in your hands. “If you think he can help.”

Dr. Keller nods, a small smile tugging at her lips. “I think he can.”

“Thank you for meeting with me, Captain Price.” Dr. Keller says as they take a seat in her office. “I just wanted to preface this conversation by saying I was given permission to discuss this with you, because we both agree you should be made aware of what’s going on.” Dr. Keller shuffles her notes as Price sits there, back straight in the chair. “Frankly, if I’m being honest, I’m starting to get a little concerned about my patient.”

“Concerned about what?” Price asks, brows pinching.

“She’s not having nesting instincts.” Dr. Keller watches Price’s face as she speaks. “Even with what you did for her, buying her things to make her more comfortable, she’s not getting that urge to make a nest. I know you’re aware that’s a crucial piece of a successful heat, and with that looming ever closer, I’m worried about her.”

“What do you think is causing it?” Price asks, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees.

“I’m not sure, yet. I did promise I wouldn’t reveal any details about anything, but I do feel comfortable saying, as I’m sure you have figured out, there’s a lot of trauma behind that institute taught, if I may be so frank, bullshit.”

The corner of Price’s mouth twitches. “Not a fan of institutes?”

Dr. Keller shakes her head. “No. I’m not. There’s many professionals that share the same sentiment. They’re hardly the nurturing and cultivating places they present themselves to be, though I’m sure you’re figuring that out yourself. It’s always been about control and profit. The current model most of them use is outdated and has been proven in study to be highly ineffective. There are some places here in Europe that are beginning to reform institutes and what they teach, taking a more omega-centric approach, instead of just priming them for future alphas and packs.”

“Can it be undone, the things she was taught?” He asks, purely out of curiosity. “The way she thinks about herself?”

“I think so, to a degree.” Dr. Keller answers. “You’re already seeing it a bit. She’s already having her beliefs and understanding challenged. Supporting her through that will be an important step in your bonding. The best thing you can do is support her and prove her institute taught beliefs wrong. I think you’re doing a fantastic job already, as is she.”

“What can we do about the nesting?” He asks.

“I have a couple exercises in mind I’d like to try. I’ve used one in practice before in a different situation. It was at one of the institutes I worked at after I was certified as an omega specialist. Two omegas were brought in off the streets. I can’t give too many details but they’d been through something very traumatic and had bonded intensely with each other. They couldn’t be separated at all without slipping into near distress. Of course, institutes don’t allow those kinds of bonds as it’s hard on the omegas when they reach selection age. So, we did an exercise where I had both scent a stuffed animal and then gave them each other’s so they’d have something tangible to focus on. Then we started slowly working on separation, using those stuffed animals so they could keep the scent of the other close. It worked, eventually they were able to be apart. I’d like to try the same thing, but to the opposite effect. I’d like you to scent a stuffed animal so it can be used as a sort of symbol, something tangible she can use to represent you.”

“A way to introduce me into her nest without having me there invading her space.” Price says.

“Exactly.” Dr. Keller smiles. “Having an alpha’s scent around her might help induce not only that feeling of comfort she needs, but may also help induce those instincts to nest. Doing it this way prevents the risk of discomfort by having an alpha invading her space directly, while still allowing for the introduction of an alpha’s scent.”

“Alright. What else do you think might help?” Price asks, running his hand over his beard.

“Another exercise, this one more tactile in nature. This particular one she can do herself, though she may choose to involve you later as she gets more comfortable doing it. I know she’s kneeling for you already, which is fantastic. Some omegas don’t kneel until after being claimed. That she feels comfortable enough to do it already is a good sign. She’s already had these exercises explained to her, but I would like to meet with you both to walk through them again, and in the end, it’s her decision what happens.” Dr. Keller gives him a small smile. “Do you have any questions?”

“What can be done if these exercises don’t work?” Price asks.

“There are a couple other things that can be done, though they’re far more invasive. I wouldn’t even suggest them unless she’s showing clear signs of pre-heat symptoms and still hasn’t nested yet. They have their risks, and that’s not something I’m willing to gamble on unless it’s absolutely necessary.”

Price hums quietly. “Is there anything I could be doing differently to help?”

“I think you’re both doing fantastic jobs with the hand you’ve been dealt. It’s not an easy situation and the fact she’s made as much progress as she has is remarkable, honestly. My job’s been fairly easy so far. I was expecting a lot worse when Laswell briefed me. That being said, there’s still a long way to go.”

“Thank you, Doctor.” Price says, shaking her hand. “You’ve been a big help.”

“It is my job.” Dr. Keller shrugs. “Remember, I’m always here if you have any questions or concerns. I may be an Omega Specialist, but that also includes the omega’s pack as well.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Price says, giving her a smile. “And I’ll be sure to tell your brother you said hello.”

Dr. Keller smirks, huffing out a laugh. “Yeah, remind him to call his sister every once in a while, while you’re at it.”

You run your fingers over the soft fur of the teddy bear. Your eyes flutter closed as you let Price’s scent wash over you. You clutch the bear to your chest, wrapping your arms around it tightly as you lounge on your bed. You bury your nose in its fur, breathing in Price’s earthy scent from it.

A quiet sound begins to rumble in your chest as you hug the bear tightly. A small, content smile pulls at your lips as you curl up in a ball around the bear, purring quietly.

It’s been so long since you purred.

You haven’t since you were a pup, still young enough to find safety in your home, before you really understood much of anything that was going on. You only ever purred with your mother, snuggled up in the nest with your siblings, warm and content and safe.

Your dad never purred. Or, you never heard him do it. You remember the deep growls that rumbled through his chest, the scent of ozone. The warning that made you bristle, even as a pup, that tickling feeling at the back of your neck almost like your brain knew years before you even presented.

You wrap your arms tighter around the bear, letting Price’s scent flood your mind and wipe away the fear, the feelings, the emotions mixing together. Price isn’t like that. He was so willing to help you, to jump in and do what it took to make the best of a situation that neither of you had a say in. Just an alpha and an omega bound to duty, forced to follow what someone else says. How very much alike your lives are, and yet, so vastly different.

That’s why you’ve found comfort in him so quickly, you think. You understand him. He may be a captain, he may be pack alpha, he may be a leader, but he’s not in control. Not completely. There’s still someone behind the scenes, pulling the strings, telling him where to go, what to do. Someone’s pointing him in a direction and it’s his duty to follow.

You were never going to be in control. You were born a subordinate, and you had been cursed to always be one by your presentation. Your entire life would be dictated for you, by someone telling you what to be, how to act, where to go, what to do. There would always be expectations for you, someone behind the scenes pulling the strings.

Your presence here is full of expectation. You weren’t just bonding with a pack as your duty, there was expectation for it. You had been sent here with a purpose, leading an initiative that could shape the future of many omegas to come. You’re not just an omega chosen by a pack that wants one.

You’re part of a government initiative. Your whole purpose is to see if adding an omega to a pack of highly trained soldiers really will improve their effectiveness and proficiency.

Falling in love with them is just a side effect of your own mission.

Love might be a strong word for it. It wouldn’t matter to those watching your progress if you hated them. You’re supposed to bond with them, be their omega. Prove that it’s worth it, that the strengths weigh out the potential vulnerabilities. Then hundreds of omegas stuck in institutes will be trained to follow in your footsteps.

You wouldn’t wish this on anyone.

You’re lucky they’ve been so good to you. You’re lucky you’re beginning to feel it, those spaces in the back of your mind that have been empty for years beginning to fill as your omega comes to accept her pack. The betas anchoring your omega, the alphas surrounding and protecting.

You'll do your duty. You'll bond with them. You'll mate with Price. You'll allow him to claim you. You'll be their good little omega.

It won't be the worst life.

They at least care about you. Gaz and Soap have shown interest in you and mating with you themselves. Ghost...you've got a long way to go with him still, but you're beginning to make some headway into earning his acceptance.

Price...Price has begun to show some interest as well. You've knelt for him, kissed him, allowed him into your space. He calmed your distress, bought you items to help make your space more comfortable. He scented a stuffed bear to help you nest.

He'll treat you nicely, or at least you hope he will. He'll lose himself to his rut when you go into heat, and you've heard plenty of horror stories. You know what to expect, from the best to the worst. You could come out the other side mated and content, or you could come out half mauled to death. There's no way of knowing. Price will be a slave to his instincts just as much as you will be.

You don't want it to be like that.

You don't want your first encounter with the opposite sex to be lost to the haze of your heat, something that could potentially put your life at risk. How long has it been since Price has had an omega? You know he has. He's too calm, too collected around you to never have had experience with one before.

Will he treat you well? How will he touch you? You can't imagine him as being a selfish lover, but you won't know. You won't know until you're dazed with lust as your body yearns for release, for an alpha's knot.

You could find out beforehand.

The thought has you sitting up in your bed. You could pursue that with Price before your heat starts. There's no rule that says you can't before your heat. You know there's omegas that don't wait. There's alphas that don't wait when omegas join their packs. Price could have taken you that first day if he really wanted to.

Would he have bent you over his desk? Done it in his room or yours? Would he have done it in the meeting room in front of the rest of the pack? Staked his claim like some primal alpha?

The thought has warmth pooling in your stomach. The mental image of Price taking you in front of the others, sinking his teeth into your neck as he stakes his claim, marking you as his.

“Fuck.” You breathe, clenching your thighs together.

You could ask. What's the worst he's going to say? No? You'll just retreat in shame and hide out until your heat begins in embarrassment. He was so willing to do what you wanted, what you asked of him. Would he say yes if you asked him? If that's really what you wanted? Does he want it? Does he want you?

All you have to do is ask. You're allowed to want things, to desire things. Everything you've asked for so far, you've gotten.

The heat between your legs only confirms it. You want this.

You want Price.

Your hands are shaking as you reach for the door handle. He had given you permission to enter already, but your nerves make it feel like you’re moving in slow motion as you wrap your fingers around the nob, turning and pushing inwards. His eyes are on you as you slip in, closing the door behind you. You can’t read his face as he sits there, staring at you in your baggy shirt and leggings.

“What’s eating you, pup?” He asks as he stares at you, watching you fidget nervously.

“I wanted to ask you something.” You say, shifting your weight between your feet.

He reaches out a hand, motioning you closer. You approach his desk slowly, taking his outstretched hand. He guides you in front of him, lifting you to sit on the desk. He leans back in his seat, staring up at you. “You can ask me anything.”

You bite your lip, staring down at him. His hands come to rest on the edge of the desk on either side of you. It’s comforting, supportive, instead of constricting as it might have felt just two weeks ago. It only furthers your belief that you’re making the right choice, that this is what you want.

You stare down into his eyes, your hands coming to rest just beside his on the desk. “I want my first time with you to be before my heat.” The words come spilling out quickly, almost so quickly you’re not sure he caught them.

He stares at you, surprise flickering across his face for a moment before he’s back to the straight-faced captain again. “You’re sure?”

You nod. “I want to remember the first time. It’ll make me feel better after we...have to do it. I think...it’ll help me feel less like...I had to.”

Price moves just slightly closer to you, understanding shining in his eyes. “If that's what you really want.”

You nod, sliding your hands until they're resting on top of his. “It is.”

He turns his hands so can hold yours. “Saturday, then. Let me make you dinner and then we'll go from there.”

Your stomach flutters at his words, skin tingling as his thumbs rub the backs of your hands. “You want to wine and dine me first?” You ask playfully.

“Call me old fashioned.” He smirks.

“Maybe just old.” You mutter, shrieking out a laugh as he wraps his arms around your waist, tugging you into his lap. The chair creaks precariously but you know he'd break your fall.

“You want to take that back?” He murmurs, your face inches from his.

“Depends on what my punishment will be.” You say, your nose almost brushing his.

He chuckles deep in his chest, lips brushing yours as he speaks. “You'll have to wait for Saturday to find out.”

Taglist:

@bobaprint @ashy-kit @anunintentionalwriter @mockerycrow @hayleybarnesx @protokosmonaut @fruitymoonbeams-blog @blue-blue0 @hindi-si-ikay @thatonepupkai @redwites @kattiieee @141trash @lothiriel9 @dillybuggg @beebeechaos @konigsmissedbeltloop @kaoyamamegami @idkkkkkkk8363 @wallwriterstuff @smile-child-13 @anomiatartle @dangerkittenclaws @bless-my-demons @mystic60 @evolutionarry @red-hydra @lunaetiicsaystuff @linaangel @codsunshine @thriving-n-jiving @slayerx147 @ferns-fics @spicyspicyliving @cityoffallencrows @ttsbaby01 @heeheehoohoohahahihi @sleepyoriana @ihatethinkingofnames10 @cassiecasluciluce @darling006 @sheep-from-rad @ohgodthebogisback @willow-sages @scythemood @daniblogs164 @mirzamsaiph

#call of duty #call of duty fic #cod fic #poly tf 141 #omegaverse #alpha/beta/omega dynamics #a/b/o #captain price x reader #john price x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #gaz x reader #soap mactavish x reader #john mactavish x reader #soap x reader #x reader #tf 141 x reader

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zerodaryls · 1 year

Text

"how are we going so backwards with queer/trans rights in the u.s. these days?"

i keep finding myself falling into this mindset.

but the truth is, we haven't been going forwards for very long.

marriage equality wasn't a thing in the u.s. until 2015.

i was already 2 years outta high school.

hell, the stonewall riots were only just in 1969.

there are people still alive today who were alive during the riots.

the hiv/aids epidemic was at its height in the 80s-early 90s.

my own parents were in high school/college during that time. i was born in '95.

my ex-uncle was a gay guy who was being "counseled" by my religious grandmother who set him up with my aunt so he could stop being gay. needless to say, it didn't work. this was in the mid-90s. i was alive when this happened.

when i was in middle school, it was Big School Gossip that our music teacher was gay. this wasn't even two decades ago.

when i was in high school, it was Big School Gossip that our art teacher was a lesbian. this was barely over a decade ago.

caitlyn jenner came out as trans in 2015. (i know, but it's an important moment in recent trans history.)

i remember seeing tabloids in grocery stores for several years up until that point, photos of her on the cover spreading the "shocking" idea that she could be "a Transgender". people making jokes about her. pitying her family.

when i came out as trans/nonbinary, i was privileged to be living in california, where my legal and medical transition was (fairly) easily accessible (and i'm sure my being white, middle-class, and able-bodied helped in that area).

but there were still roadblocks.

they still forced me to be "examined" by a doctor to make sure my genitals were in order before he'd sign my gender change form. (a completely pointless legal requirement that accomplished nothing but make both of us uncomfortable.)

this wasn't even a decade ago.

i'm 28.

seeing queer and trans people living out loud is largely a New Thing for the general public.

being safe to walk around in rainbows and pride pins is a New Thing in the u.s. (and not even true for all parts of the u.s.!)

acceptance of queer and trans folks is still new. still uncomfortable for many cishets, even some of those who consider themselves Allies.

there have always been queer and trans people.

there have always been queer and trans allies.

but our rights, our acceptance, our place in society has always been a battle.

the battle didn't end in 2015.

"how are we going backward all of a sudden??"

there's nothing sudden about it.

bigots have been pushing back against our progress from the get-go.

they're raising younger bigots, and they're doing all they can to limit our ability to speak up and call for continued progress.

we aren't even a decade into marriage equality in the us.

there's nothing sudden about the shift away from our rights and wellbeing.

to my fellow younger millennials and gen z folks: we're lucky to have been alive at a time where such progress has been made.

but the ugly battles of earlier generations are not behind us.

it's fucking terrifying, but i think we really need to be prepared to face some truly ugly shit in the coming years.

we need to empower ourselves and each other.

those who came before us (and are still here, by the way! the queer population doesn't end at 30, holy fuck!) found community, banded together, and lifted each other up even when the future was bleak.

listen to them.

listen to each other.

and don't for one second give up hope for a brighter future.

that's what bigots want.

do we give bigots what they want in this house?

#this is a pep talk i needed to write for myself #but i thought i'd share it in case anyone else is in need of some Perspective #i had to actually google marriage equality in the u.s.#i thought it was like. 2008 or something.#no. 2015. two years after i graduated.#marriage equality wasn't fucking legal my entire high school career.#and yes this post is very u.s. centric #i'm in the u.s. and the bills we're seeing pop up in the u.s. are what inspired this post #this is mostly addressing young u.s. americans who thought the worst was behind us #it's also largely aimed at my fellow white ppl #because i'm sure our whiteness has awarded us more ease in our queer and trans journeys #in times like these i draw strength from the willpower of older generations #queer and trans people who have been fighting the fight for so much longer #who have seen the joyous victories AND weathered the worst storms #they're still here. they're still fighting.#they're not letting anyone tell them who they are.#we may not be used to being met with such vehement hate (though i'm sure some of us unfortunately *have* dealt with that #especially folks in red states)#but idk. i feel like a lot of younger trans/queer folks are very fragile.#myself included. and i get it. and it hurts.#but like. i think a lot of us (it's me i'm us) need to grow a fucking backbone and stop looking for validation and acceptance from others #i am nonbinary. i am queer. i know this about myself. no laws will ever change that. no bigots will ever take my sense of SELF away.#and there will always be those who Get It.#i'm not gonna let myself fall into a pit of despair.#i'll feel the fear and the pain and then i'll KEEP FUCKING GOING.#because that is the ONLY option.#bigots don't get to have the satisfaction of seeing me give up hope.#my messages are open if anyone's feeling down about our continued oppression and wants to talk.#i'll send you recs of queer empowerment songs and queer elders to draw strength from.#and remind each other that we're a community. we're not alone.

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itsbansheebitch · 25 days

Text

Rants at the Hairdresser

her, behind me trimming my hair: "it's so wild how big cars are. Seems a bit dangerous, ya know?"

me, enjoying the smell of the stuff she sprayed in my hair: "Yeah, apparently that's because it's cheaper to have a car classified as a 'light truck' since you can get past safety regulations and they have different frames."

her, who has paused working on my hair: "Wait, are you serious?"

me: "Yeah, apparently it's a lot cheaper for companies to do that. And it really sucks since driving one of those cars is super dangerous, but it's even more dangerous for other people, especially if they're in a smaller car. Since it would be more safe to be another driver if they ALSO have a 'light truck,' everyone is caught in a cycle of getting bigger and bigger cars. All of which are extremely dangerous and have made being a pedestrian even more dangerous."

her: deep in thought, silent.

me, happy that someone is letting me rant about this: "Oh, the new Cadillacs are the size of tanks. That's not an exaggeration, by the way."

her, stunned: ???? "what the actual hell???"

we're silent for a bit

her, hesitantly, since I look like white trash and she has at least 10 piercings and pink hair: "I feel like America has been that way for a while... ya know?"

me: "Oh yeah, I totally get what you're saying, like, putting profit over people's safety?"

her, assured now that she knows we're both too commie pilled for this kind of conversation with someone else: "Yes! Exactly! It really sucks, right?"

me: "God, tell me about it"

I was very happy with my haircut, btw. She's so good at her job. :D

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evilminji · 1 month

Text

I woke up to this thought? And it made me smile~

Wrong way Au?

It's EASY to fly from point A to point B. Linear. Just on long, no traffic, straight line. And if you get lost? Go higher! There you are! But "normal" reporter families with Totally Human genetics can't exactly DO that.

Plus? It's part of the whole Americana thing!

Childhood.

Gotta do a road trip, see weird road side attractions, camp and hike a bit. Go somewhere other then the farm for once. Soooo~ everyone into the car! Yes, you too, Kon.

And don't look at Lois, kids. She hates this idea as much as you do. But it's for Dad. So we're doing it. Get in the car. Some times loving people means "suuuure, honey! I TOTALLY want to sit in an uncomfortable car for hours for your nostalgic dream trip!", so get comfy.

Problem is? He either can't navigate for SHIT (unlikely) or this patch of nowhere? Possibly haunted? Cursed? Fuckey. Very, very Reality Fuckey. Far more likely, honestly. They THINK that was the a same barn the passed four times now... but it looks... wrong? Off. Worse each time, in ways that are hard to place.

Where the FUCK are they Clark?

According to the GPS?

Here.

(You are Here. You are Here. You are He-)

Oh, THAT'S not cursed! She fucking KNEW they shouldn't have left the city. FUCK the countryside. She likes ONE(1) small town and it's where her in-laws live, THANK YOU VERY MUCH! If they die, she swear to GOD-!!!

Then Jon points to colorful tents up the road. A mix of the kind you buy at big box stores and Ren fairs. Balloons. What the fuuuuuck? "Fenton Family Reunion"?

Was... was that THERE a second ago?

Clark's very deliberate Not Too Tight Grip Of Panic ™ on the steering wheel? Confirms that No Honey, it was not. Kon points out? That eventually they ARE going to run out of gas. They should stop.

Words can not express how little the Kents want to do that. They have KIDS to protect. This feels "magical fuckery" to them. AKA? One of the few things Kryptonians very much CAN NOT handle.

And luck getting ahold of anybody back there kids? No? Emergency lines too?

Fuck ™.

Okay! Guess we're stopping! Stay behind us.

They park.

There are campers and trucks, modified tanks and trackers. A few horses grazing side by side with an honest to God moose and two mules. A Llama. Someone's anchored a dirigible. A boat with spindly chicken footed legs, like it's the house of baba yaga's sea faring love child. The name Fenton is slapped on everything. Peoples faces.

Grinning.

Everything grinning.

As they get closer, the racket gets louder. Crashes and smashes. Roaring laughter. Explosions. The screech of metal failing and the whine of energy overclocked. Fatty meats cooking. Spices from around the globe. Radios and instruments, at least one of which violently cuts off in a smash.

They pass an almost violently balloon choked arch, into chaos.

Grinning giants, everywhere. Every color, every shade, every race imaginable. The spectrum of humanity laid bare. Made large. Grinning, Grinning, Grinning. Crashing into each other, against, through. Smashing and laughing, as everything breaks around them. Titans.

Darting underfoot, children. Fast with wild eyes. Mad grins and fae laughs. Wives and husband's, partners and friends, dancing in and out of the chaos. Just as destructive. Perhaps MORE so. Grabbing meals from grills, laughing and joking, tossing children into the fray, all as they effortless hold conversations of their own.

Like a Dionysian revelry, all madness and joy.

Then they are noticed.

"Cousin!"

One of them booms. Locking eyes on Clark. He doesn't even have time to move, doesn't realize until too late, in all the chaos, that the man meant HIM. A running start is followed by a brutal, full body, flying tackle. Clark is taken skidding to the ground and into a headlock.

"LETS WRASTLE~!!"

He watches in helpless confusion as, with high-pitched war cries, a pair of twins jump Jon. They are wearing war paint. Krypto already taken out by a glowing green dog, now confused and wrestling off to the side. Lois has whipped out her tazer. Kon between her and who ever comes next.

By the time he wrestle his "cousin" off of him, he's lost sight of them both.

Dives into the fray.

Magic be damned, that's his FAMILY!

It... It's the most fun he's had in years. That any of them have. He finds Lois in a breathless, screaming, debate/fistfight with her new best friend. Samantha "call me Sam Or ELSE" Manson-Fouley-Fenton. Kon is in the mud pit, wrestling other teenagers in some sort of battle Royale. Jon? Has become king of the ferals. The other parents are impressed.

His years of Damian wrangling finally paying dividends, apparently.

By the time Clark FINALLY tracks down Krypto, there is already crowd and it apparently six heel turns deep into the WWE Grand Saga of the Fenton Pet's League. Krypto, what the hell. No. No you may NOT "form one last alliance against my sworn wrestling enemy, to prove the true meaning of Christmas!" It's the middle of SUMMER!

Clark... Clark is so tired.

He's also a Fenton now. Yes, he KNOWS that's not how anything works. YOU try explaining that! He's on the call list and card list. It's like the Addams family out here! They just... just DECIDED him and his family were related! They've apparently DONE THAT BEFORE!

They leave with directions, fudge, more leftovers then anyone could possibly eat, and a massive new extended family. One that honestly? The Justice League SHOULD have known about. The sheer destructive chaos they get up too? EVERYONE should be aware of them. It seems impossible NOT to be! But? According to THEM, it's a "family thing". Reality tries to ignore them for "it's own sanity"? What???

So yeah.... no more road trips.

How was YOUR weekend?

@hdgnj @legitimatesatanspawn @nerdpoe @the-witchhunter @lolottes @babbling-babull @dcxdpdabbles @hypewinter @mutable-manifestation

#minji's writing #dpxdc #dp x dc #dc x dp #dcxdp #dc x dp prompt #danny phantom #welcome to the family au #fenton family reunion

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shotmrmiller · 27 days

Text

simon's many things. a retired fighter, for one. he hung his mma gloves a few of years ago with the excuse of getting older. he still sticks around, though— sitting in the front, so close to the hexagonal cage that his knees can touch the steel, occasionally gesturing price over to hand him a crinkled wad of cash.

gambling's illegal, you know.

thought you were a medic not a cop, pet.

a veterinarian.

good thing we're all dogs here, then.

he's also a bit unhinged, or so price says. you had pressed your tongue against the back of your teeth to keep from asking him if the hits simon's taken to the side of the head knocked a few things loose or if he was simply born that way. you'd be thoroughly unsurprised by the latter.

seen 'em take a man out with one ferocious hit— dislocated his jaw and retired him all in one second— all over cigarettes.

what, did they guy like steal them or something?

no. the prize for the winner of their fight was that pack of smokes.

incredible. (that's insane.)

he's also unrepentantly forward and a bit of a pervert, to boot. no explanation is needed.

lemme take ya out, love—

don't call me that.

and wear a pretty dress with heels. bet you'd look real good in—

stop talking, simon.

and now, you're about to find out that he's also, apparently, magnanimous.

a friday night's hustle and bustle has come and gone, as has the crowd that was in there earlier to watch a fight. the air smells of cheap alcohol and even cheaper cologne. the lighting inside is dim, casting a dull, almost sickly glow over wooden stands and the bloodied arena. the floor, once dry concrete, was now mud-slicked; drinks, urine, and spilled blood staining the surface. betting slips stick to your sneakers as you walk. (trudge, more like.)

with your worn medical supply bag around your shoulder, you tiredly head towards price's office whose metal door is being held open by an old barstool, and gently rap your knuckles on the frame. "i'm leaving, john."

he looks up at you, soft blue eyes crinkling over his glasses as he smiles. "sounds good, love. see ya later. want me to walk you out?"

always the gentleman. "no, i'm alright. i'm sure simon's out there waiting for me any—"

the metal entrance door slams open then, causing you to jump at the startling noise. you whip your head around and a resigned groan escapes your lips. it's simon and he's got bruised company. very bruised.

there's never any rest for the wicked.

"who's that?" john calls from behind you. "he lost?"

the guy whose arm is slung around simon's shoulders looks relatively young. thick, straight eyebrows, a swollen broken nose, and thin blood-crusted lips. the last time you saw a mohawk on someone, it'd been in the early 00s.

"somewhat but it's a good thing i found 'em," simon grunts. his eyes flash over to you. "can ya patch him up f'me, love? i'll go on tha' date you've been beggin' me for."

you ignore simon as you approach them both and tip the guy's head up with your fingers under his chin. searching in your front pocket, you tell him to look at you. "open your eyes as best you can, alright?"

his eyes are like sparkling blue gems— bright like the sky on a clear summer's day. he winces at the blinding white light emitting from the flashlight. "tha' necessary, lass? ah'm not seein' double, if tha's what ye lookin' fer."

he gives a pained grunt before simon tells him to stand still. "my girl here's the medic and what she says goes. clear?"

"crystal, sir." purple bruises are blooming like dark flowers around his left eye and right cheekbone, and the blood that oozed from his split lip long coagulated. his nose, however, continues to languidly drip crimson.

"not the worst break i've seen," you mutter.

the pair shuffle behind you quietly as you head toward the dedicated medical room. the sharp, clinical scent of antiseptic wafts through the air as the door swings open.

"sit, please," you gesture to the well-worn chair in the corner.

black latex gloves squeak in protest as you slide them on. "wanna tell me what's going on, simon? i'm not gonna fix the nose of a wanted murderer, am i?"

simon chuckles under his breath. "no. unlucky bloke chose to mug the wrong person. johnny here is real good at fightin', though, for someone with no real proper trainin'. figured i could give him a way to earn his money instead of stealin' it off of hard-workin' folk."

you hum and press your thumbs as gently as you can where the nasal fracture is. johnny hisses sharply and grips your wrist tightly. "easy. i barely touched it." you quickly tap the back of his hand with your knuckles. "let go, please. last thing i need is you tensing and breaking my arm."

he slackens his fingers and sits on both of his hands. "sorry, lass. ah'd never hurt a bonnie lass like ye. say, how'd ye even end up in the bowels of the city?"

his talking re-opened the cut on his upper lip, blood streaking his teeth pink. "i'm a charity case, just like you, i reckon."

johnny means to continue the conversation, but you take advantage of his distracted mind and push to the left, the sickening crunch of cartilage follows the adjustment. he curls in on himself and lets out a guttural noise that bounces off the white walls. "i'd be sorry but..." you trail off with a casual shrug.

pulling a clean rag from a basket nearby, you order johnny to sit up straight. "look up for me." he leans his head back, adam's apple bobbing as he swallows. "hold this there," he squeezes his eyes shut when you firmly press the rag under his nose, "you'll stop bleeding soon enough."

you swivel on your stool, turning your attention to simon who's been silently watching you work by the door. "any injuries on you?"

he pulls his balaclava up, revealing a blonde stubble and scarred lips. "i got an injury right," he points at his mouth, "here tha' you can kiss—"

"stop talking, simon."

johnny's laughter emerges from behind the crimson-stained cloth.

this is the first time you've ever seen simon in the ring.

simon, even while 'retired', fights with a viciousness that borders on primal. his snarl— a ravenous wolf's— bare crooked teeth that hunger for victory, for dominance.

even when he's merely teaching johnny how to survive in this subterranean battleground.

"there's no room for mercy, soap!" he bellows. his eyes are sharp as blades, holding an edge of madness. he charges forward with fists like sledgehammers, delivering blow after punishing blow; johnny's body paying the price for his mistakes.

pain is the currency in that pit of despair, laswell had once said.

simon is a beast in human skin, ferocity incarnate...and you don't remember the last time you were this aroused by such a brute display. if this is what he looks like now, after years of being the spectator and not the spectacle, you can only imagine him in the zenith of his strength, his power.

heat licks up your cheeks at the mere thought.

he looks like he was born and bred to fight. his crib must've been the stained mat he's dancing on, his lullabies the sound of fists making contact, forcing flesh to yield. his broad back bears the weight of history— jagged flesh that stretches taut with each swing.

"fight smart! rules dissolve once tha' bell tolls, mate. many come here for glory, others come for an escape but some--" simon ducks the undisciplined punch johnny throws and gives him a ruthless jab to the ribs once then another to the side of his cut jaw.

johnny falls like a tree that's been cut at the trunk, the sound his body makes on impact with the canvas echoing in the empty basement. his breathing comes in ragged bursts, sweat and trickles of blood mingling on his face. simon kneels next to him, grunting as he goes down. "some are only here for their next meal and those are the most dangerous."

he is in his element, all bruised flesh and bloodied nose.

oh no. johnny's nose is bleeding too. "simon!" his head snaps to you when you scream, eyes wide and unfettered. "i just fixed his nose, you dolt!" his expression softens then— furrowed brows and taut lips relax.

"he'll be alrigh'. even my nose whistles when i breathe," he remarks.

simpleton. nothing but fighting and gambling in that big head of his. "that doesn't mean that it's okay to break bones i mended a few days ago." you keep your eyes fixed on johnny, ignoring the way the heat that's radiating from simon's sweat-slick body seeps into your chilled skin. "why he call you soap, anyway? good at cleaning dishes?"

he slurs a little, blood dribbling from the corner of his mouth. "'cuz ah'm a shlippery bashtard."

you bite on your tongue, hoping that his slurring is because he's still mildly dazed from the punch and not something worse.

"wha' about me, love? i've got a beaten face too, y'know." you look at him then, narrowing your eyes as you take his bare face in. the bridge of his nose is pretty swollen, and you can see the onset of bruising already happening. it's also freely dribbling blood.

"shit, let me go get my medbag."

he hooks his fingers around the loops of your jeans, keeping you in place. "'fraid of a little blood, are ya? i think you'd look real good with me on you."

a jolt of arousal shoots up your spine unbidden, blooming desire, focus wavering. your breath catches and pupils dilate as they lock with his rich, brown ones.

"oi, get a room, aye?" johnny's hoarse voice snaps you back to the present, your thunderous heartbeat ebbing away like a tide from shore.

"whenever you want, sweetheart," simon purred. the lump lodged in your throat makes it hard to respond. "get the bag 'fore i bleed out. price will have my head if i drop dead on his mat."

you blink and scramble away on shaky legs and weak knees.

#call of duty #simon ghost riley x f reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley #cod mwii #cod mw2 #simon riley x reader

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