amaryllis

22 | She/Her | COD enthusiast

[amaryllis-3]

𖤓 Just a stressed uni student in love with big, scary military men.

𖤓 English isn't my first language, and I have only recently started using it for writing. I hope to improve on it over time!

𖤓 Please, feel free to comment, leave asks or dm me. I'd love to connect with the community.

This blog will feature EXPLICIT, DARK and MATURE themes. Don't interact if you are under 18.

➮ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

[amaryllis-3]

I was reading and randomly looked at you name and then realized, that’s a flower- wait that’s the flower I got tattooed on me! They are so pretty, did you know they are closely related to the family of flowers that Lillys are in. Lillys also are the worst flower to have around you if you’re allergic to pollen.

It indeed is! I've always been interested in knowing the meaning/symbolism behind flowers. The one of the amaryllis caught my eye and I decided to pick it as my username (besides the fact that it really looks beautiful, and I find its ring lovely).

I can definitely approve the choice of a floral tattoo, and it would definitely be the first one I'd go for if I wasn't so scared of needles. Even without seeing it, I'm sure yours must be super pretty!

To be honest, I really had no idea. Thank you for teaching me something new today! And also thank you for reaching out to me 🩷! I hope you had an enjoyable read ^^

[amaryllis-3]

Alpha! Simon and Beta! Johnny who, after searching fruitlessly for years the third member to complete their pack, found the perfect little Omega in a pub after one of their missions.

The problem? The annoying mark sitting on your neck that almost seemed to mock them.

You were already mated. What a way to spoil the party.

The two, fortunately, were certainly not known for being saints. What would have been a small theft when their moral compass was well and truly messed up anyway?

AN: Sneak peek of an idea I was planning to work on in the near future

➮ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

[amaryllis-3]

Pairing: Stalker! König × Fem Reader

WARNINGS: MDNI, 18+, dark content, stalking, dubcon, noncon (both are hinted, non vividly described)

No matter how much you might have wanted to believe otherwise, you weren't alone. You were aware of that.

The windows were shuttered, heavy curtains drawn to shroud the glass, and yet you could still feel his eyes staring at you, following your every movement without missing a single one.

It almost made you suspect he was stuck inside with you.

As if fate was trying to mock you, a dull noise echoed behind you. Loud enough to be heard in the complete silence of your flat, loud enough to inform you of his presence.

Ah, he considered you so incapable of escaping him that he didn't really worry about blowing his cover. After all the weeks he'd spent observing you, he knew deep down that you wouldn't stand a chance anyway. Not against someone like him.

Your body petrified in its position, heart racing and lump trapped in your throat. Your face hardly turned, just the right amount to spot the man standing near the door that separated the kitchen from the living room.

There was no doubt whatsoever regarding his identity, even though that was the first time he'd let himself be completely seen. You'd glimpsed his shadow on different occasions, nothing he hadn't chosen to show you, however.

He was enormous, more imposing than anyone you'd ever met. His squared shoulders virtually succeeded in blocking any trail of light coming from the adjacent room, and that veil... That black veil which masked every possible detail of his features, except for the piercing blue irises, sent your anxiety sky-high.

He was on you before you could think of doing anything. Absurd how someone so big could move so fast. His arm closed around your waist, lifting you off the ground as if you weighed nothing and making your back crash into his broad chest. Despite the material in between, you could sense his hot breath branding your neck, his lips parting to whisper in your ear: "I caught you, Mäuschen."

Your eyes began to sting, salty tears soon to be shed as his other hand travelled down, resting on your belly. His gloved fingers barely shifted the fabric of your top to caress your heated skin.

"You did so well... ignoring all the signs." His voice wasn't what you'd expect from a mountain of a man such as him: it wasn't deep, rough, or gruff, but it came out somewhat high-pitched, in an accented, sickeningly sweet flow that managed to give you goosebumps. "That's why you can't be left alone. Anyone could sneak in here, and you wouldn't even notice."

The "just like me" wasn't uttered. It wasn't really necessary, not with the way the implication had settled in the air around you. He'd already done it. He'd violated the security of your home who knows how many times prior to that. He'd invaded your privacy, and you'd made no effort to stop him, nothing sufficient at least.

On top of all the paranoia and fear he'd planted in you, he also had the audacity to toy with you. Playing with his prey before snatching it, not unlike a cat with mice. Had you perhaps become that? A mouse about to be devoured?

"Don't be afraid." If his aim was to reassure you, he was doing a terrible job. His hand descended lower until it cupped your mound, thick fingertips tentatively rubbing the area where your clothed clit should have been. A choked sob escaped your mouth when you felt the outline of his cock pressing against your ass, the reality of what was to happen shortly thereafter starting to grow painfully clear.

"I'll take care of you from now on."

➮ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

[amaryllis-3]

unhinged fem reader × unhinged task force 141

WARNINGS: MDNI, dark themes, stalker! reader

"Don't you have the feeling of being watched?"

It was a hunch, nothing more, but after all those years of having to keep his guard up, Kyle was painfully aware of his surroundings. Even with his back to them, the man could perceive someone's intense gaze piercing him, the hairs on the nape of his neck standing up slightly. For a moment he almost felt in danger, as if a predator was about to pounce on him and tear him to shreds, before he forced himself to rationalise the situation.

He was in a pub, at home, not in some war theatre putting his life at risk for international security. Most of those present were so drunk they were struggling to stand; they could hardly have posed a threat. Besides, with the military background he and his teammates, who were sitting in the booth around him, had, the most dangerous ones there would have been them.

Perhaps it was the duty's mindset talking: his body might have been in Britain, but his mind was still stuck in some scorching desert of the Middle East. After the long deployment that had kept him busy over the last few months, getting back into his everyday routine had proved difficult. Having a pint with his best mates should have been the right opportunity for that, and he didn't need to ruin it with his paranoia.

He almost regretted bringing it up, noticing how relaxed his comrades were. Had anything really been out of the ordinary, they would have noticed it too.

Yes, it had merely been a poor trick of his consciousness, nothing serious. He could have ignored the unsettling sensation that had begun to simmer under his skin; it was just for a night at the end.

Notwithstanding his good intentions, Gaz's eyes ended up moving subtly around the room, his body remaining motionless as they scanned every nook and cranny they had access to for explanations.

There didn't seem to be anything relevant to report.

Kyle almost breathed a sigh of relief, once, to his extreme horror, he identified the source of his discomfort. His heart slowed its pace for a fraction of a second before resuming beating at double speed.

You had the most bloody chilling stare he'd encountered in a long time, and that was already saying a lot. It appeared capable of delving into his soul, but not in the pleasant, clichéd way one would have found exclusively in a romance novel.

No, yours was ruthless.

It clung tooth and nail to the walls of his being without regard for what his reaction may have been. It was greedy and insistent, driven by an insatiable hunger that nearly bordered on desperation; the kind of expression that should have belonged to a raving lunatic, not someone like you.

Despite having been caught red-handed, you hadn't even bothered to look away. You'd met him head-on, as if you wanted to make your presence known to him, wanted him to realise that from the moment he'd set foot in that place, your full attention had been uniquely on him. Hell, he wasn't even sure he'd seen you blink since he'd initiated eye contact.

There was something extremely wrong with you, something that he wouldn't usually prefer to meddle with outside of work, but which simultaneously drew him like a moth to the flame. You were simply captivating, in a psychotic way, but equally so.

"That's the bird." Gaz's head turned quickly towards Ghost, who hadn't dwelled to articulate more. As though that was a well-known notion. The comment was followed by Johnny's big laugh and a grunt of approval from Price, knowing glances exchanged between the three able to convey more than a thousand words.

Was he the sole one in the dark about the whole affair?

Kyle shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Your existence was still a steady constant in his brain from which it was practically impossible to escape, but he was stubborn about discovering the truth. His eyes moved around his companions, trying to interpret the mystery you were. He wanted to be part of it, wanted to have access to what could only be a dirty little secret he'd been excluded from for no apparent reason.

"The bird?" He asked in a hushed whisper that had a reverential tinge to it. His focus was locked on the man who had dangled the forbidden fruit in front of him just to deny it right when he was about to grab it. His lieutenant was a mask of austere silence, the balaclava he wore making it difficult to comprehend what Simon Riley was thinking. Gaz, however, swore he saw the corners of his lips lifting barely from beneath the fabric, brown irises flashing with a mirth he didn't believe he'd ever witnessed on him.

The answer, however, didn't come from him, but rather from the Scot, who was far too excited to share the news with him. "The bonnie thing has been stalkin' us for a while noo." The casualness in his tone would normally have made Kyle frown, but with you involved, he didn't feel like opening his mouth. Ah, pretending nothing was going on when a stranger was actually hounding his mates purely because you had made the butterflies in his stomach flutter in a manner he couldn't define? What on earth was happening to him? To them?

"And she's quite dedicated," Ghost added, "she sneaked into Price's house the other day." At that the captain let out a small chuckle, lips stretched into an affectionate smile, which clashed considerably with the talk the group was having. "She surely did. (Gaz didn't mean to be mistaken but was that a hint of admiration seeping out of his superior's words?) Was naive to assume I wouldn't notice, though."

How strange life was. If anything like that had happened a few days earlier — no scratch that! if that had happened merely a few hours earlier, he would have taken them for crazy. Yet now... Now he was somewhat envious that you hadn't attempted to break into his residence.

"Seems she's startin' to fancy Garrick as well". Only then did Kyle notice how none of the three were really looking at him. Their faces might have been facing in his direction, but their equally intense eyes were passing through him, trying to catch a glimpse of what was behind, trying to catch a glimpse of you. "Och, ye bet. Ah could ken that wild stare anywhere," Johnny confirmed, hardly suppressing the excitement he was experiencing.

As if drawn by theirs, Gaz's gaze returned to you, finding you in the same position he'd left you. No noticeable changes were present, but now that all four of them were acknowledging your presence, he was pretty certain he saw your pupils dilate. His rational side would have considered it simply a play of the lights; after all, his eyesight wasn't sharp enough to pick up those small details from his position. And nonetheless he sensed that this was the case, that you thrived a little more under their attention.

He had to see it, witness for himself how that strange dynamic between the five of you would evolve. He was sure you would disrupt their lives, but they would absolutely return the favour.

"So you'll be on board too, sergeant?" Kyle didn't even need to ponder much the instant the proposal left John's mouth, mind and soul already strangely in agreement about his next course of action. "Yeah, I think I will, Cap."

Just a silly thought I've had lately instead of behaving like a productive human being. May add more in the future.

➮ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

[tojisun]

price catches it first — that whiff spreading in the den, clogging up his throat like ratafia. it makes him pause, words failing him now, and he snaps his jaw shut at the start of a rumble pulsing from his chest.

he turns just as the others do, watching as you rub on your throat and grumble to yourself. it is bare, the first it’s ever been since you’ve arrived at the base, and his eyes drop to your collar in wonder.

he’s heard of those before — collars that conceal scents. they’ve become a privilege, not quite a necessity, so only a few are found with them. still, rarer are those who would wear them for hours on end, and in the base, you happened to be the only one to do so.

intriguing, if not at least worrying, because price had seen your file. you’re an alpha. an alpha prime, it seemed, based on your presentation records, and yet you came to him with a collar on your throat and your scent heavily suppressed. he didn’t ask, this is not the line of work where one can, and just demanded for your loyalty and skill.

so this is the first that they’re smelling of you. it is overwhelming, like all other alpha scents usually are, but it curls at the end. sweet but burnt. crackling firewood and smoke. it is pleasant but not just; like at every turn, there has to be something that gives. something unexpected; something unusual.

john breathes in sharply, his muscles going taut underneath the fatigues when he realizes what it is. the rest of the squad follow — they sit up straighter, their shoulders drawn higher, and their scents rap against each other, mixing in dizzying blends. the den becomes packed with worry, apprehension, horror, anger, protectiveness, protectiveness, protectiveness.

still, you only look at them with a cocked brow, daring them to go. to speak of what it is weighing down on their tongues.

it is kyle to do so. kyle who you trust more than anyone else.

“you’ve been bitched.”

he says it with no malice, but just as a fact rolling off his tongue, one that makes your fingers twitch while your face stays frozen, still a mask of normalcy. of measured strength and quiet fortitude.

“i have,” you reply, also void of emotion. any other day he would commend the control you have of your emotions to not even let it slip into your scent, especially after having relied on your collar so much, but tonight isn’t the right time. tonight, john’s mind swirls, his tongue heavy with the things he wants to say.

so he tries.

“was it—”

you blink at him. then, you laugh. “oh! yes, of course. i wanted it.”

your reply fills him up, stuffing him with cotton. he realizes that your tension was of worry; you were afraid that they would judge you. and john feels lighter, elated and calm now, but also he feels disjointed, like he is floating, and john, he–

he tries.

he tries not to imagine the weight of your words. he tries not to give them shape. but his mind is faster than his conscience, and john now thinks of you, alpha prime, begging for another alpha to turn you. to fill you up and drown your scent glands with their own before gnawing on your skin. biting. biting. biting. until it takes root, upending every fibre within you to make room for the submission. for the delicateness. for the heat.

john’s thoughts only grind to a halt when the new scent is snuffed out from the room, extinguished in its entirety, leaving no trail. his eyes find you fastening the collar on your neck again, your roughened fingers unlatching the buckle to loop the leather.

he swallows like he is a man parched, but his throat only grows dryer. there is nothing for him to feast on.

it goes by so slowly; your familiarity with the collar does not aid you in fastening its loose end, and john wonders if you might need help, after all. only, just as the question is building on the tip of his tongue, he realizes what you’re doing.

what teases you are leaving.

“so,” you say like you have not just presented an opportunity for them to latch onto. “can i be dismissed?”

john hums his ascent, and ends the meeting for tonight. they watch as you gather your files before waltzing away with only the sound of your boots following you. the rest of the squad stays, awashed by the… offering.

because it was everything and that.

it was a proof of your trust, and a question of their own, one that john knows that they will eagerly prove to you. but it was also an invitation; a revelation and now a question.

john watches the way simon’s knuckles turn white as he balls his hands into fists and wonders if his boys would allow him to be the first to you.

——

this is nothing and everything alike; experimenting on omegaverse in hopes that i’ll get out of my slump </3

[amaryllis-3]

Word count: 1.3k

Pairing: John "Soap" MacTavish x Reader

Soap had always been proud of his dog hybrid nature. Who wouldn't when they could count on better senses and physical abilities than the rest of the human population, instincts that had proven true on too many occasions to be considered a fluke, and a pair of puppy-dog eyes that increased the chances of slipping out of tricky situations by a good 90 percent? Hell, he could look like a terrifying beast during operations, only to turn into the most endearing and lovable being in his everyday life. Not to mention all the extra cuteness points he could benefit from.

It was a double win.

Thus, he'd never found a reason to complain about his circumstances, not until that evening.

He'd caught it after a full day of training, one of the few that had managed to undermine a bit of his restless energy. The most heavenly and enticing scent he'd ever detected had passed right in front of his room. The man was on his feet before he could realise it, his quick legs bringing him to open the door far too dramatically just to peep out with his head, as if suddenly wanting to appear more subtle.

The corridor was completely deserted, no trace of the person who had so utterly captured his interest, except perhaps simply for the faint trail left by your perfume, still lingering in the air.

Johnny didn't let it drag him down. Instead of going back to his quarters and forgetting about it, his body moved without a second thought to search the area, nose needing to work overtime to try and pinpoint your exact location. Your essence was unique, new, and therefore easier to identify among the others he was already familiar with. Or should have been, in theory.

He'd ended up circling around the same corners and halls, tracking a trail to then get stuck in a blind spot and have to start over again, but nothing. He'd found absolutely nothing. A total fiasco.

You seemed to have dissolved into thin air as quickly as you had materialised.

Soap felt his mood plummet, fatigue setting in after the thrill of the hunt had subsided. The doggy ears flattened on his skull, lips pouting a little as he returned on his steps and settled to call it a night, for now.

He wasn't giving up; it wasn't really his style. This was purely a tactical pause to rearrange his strategy.

Johnny told himself that things would work out. They lived in a guarded area, where access was restricted and supervised. Surely you couldn't have sneaked in without a proper motivation, and had you become a stable resident, he would have met you sooner or later. So it was merely a matter of time.

Too bad that between thinking it and actually applying it there was a big ocean to bridge.

The man was going crazy. Not even a week had passed, and still there wasn't a single spot in the entire facility that wasn't soaked in your aroma. It was addictive, and it haunted him like a ghost, only to elude him if he decided to chase it. For a highly developed olfactory sense such as his, it was a real curse being able to smell you everywhere and nowhere all at once.

Being affected so much was foreign to him, a little alienating if he had to be honest. He'd tried asking at other hybrids if they'd noticed anything out of the ordinary, anything that might explain the reason for his strange behaviour. Maybe you simply had a more intense fragrance than average, and it might have similarly hit them. He hoped this was the case because otherwise he would have seriously begun to believe that he'd lost his sanity. Yet he'd received nothing useful other than a pat on the shoulder and the advice to not stress over it.

As if it was that easy.

He didn't know your appearance; he wasn't even sure whether or not you were someone he wanted to associate with, but one thing was clear: he needed to figure out who you were and fast. Every fibre of his being screamed at him to hurry up, to plant his hands on your hips and push you towards him, to lap your skin with his tongue, pointed canines sinking into it with the sole intent of marking you, making you his—

God, he was raving.

Luckily, it appeared some pious soul up above had chosen to not abandon him in complete delirium, since after sleepless nights spent tossing and turning, body sweating and mind clouded by heated fantasies, you had finally showed up.

He was hanging out with his squad, arms crossed at his chest and dark circles barely visible, when your scent hit him for the umpteenth time. There was, however, something different about it: it was stronger, more consistent, more real than it had ever been. His head immediately spun towards the source, his gaze fixed on the centre of his thoughts. You.

"Who's that?" He enquired before he could truly ponder it through. He was oblivious to what force was holding him back from throwing himself at you like a madman, but from now on he would certainly have to give some credit to his self-restraint. "New medic," came Ghost's dry reply first, followed next by Price's grunt. "Specialised in hybrid care, I 'eard."

Soap's heart did a little flip. His attention was solely on you as you crouched on the ground to check one of the young recruits who had been injured. You were actually more attractive than he could have imagined and also seemed a kind-hearted individual, if he could take as an indicator the diligence you were putting into your approach.

Well, that wasn't enough though, was it? He needed more to come up with some sort of justification as to why he was so drawn to a complete stranger.

Now that he was aware of your name and looks, discovering your routine and adapting it to his own was the inevitable next step. Of course he hadn't spoken to you, not yet at least. He merely stalked you around the base like a guard dog, supervising your every action and pretending to be doing something else whenever the sneaking suspicion of being watched led you to turn and check if that was true.

Could it result creepy? Yes. Would he be bothered by it? Not exactly.

What had started out as simple curiosity (lies; he was down bad from the beginning) was morphing not quite subtly into another feeling.

His cerulean eyes never left you; you were the first thing they lingered on when he walked into a room and the last from which they reticently parted when he moved away. The urge to constantly keep track of your whereabouts soon became a condition he was unwilling to renounce, not with the way sharing your spaces made him feel. Learning your preferences, habits, and mannerisms then had proved so effortless, so natural that not a single doubt had arisen in his mind.

Ah, he knew it. You couldn't be a horrible human, not with the way your being inebriated his consciousness, and your face pushed him towards total adoration. Johnny was falling in love all too fast, and he didn't regret it one bit. You were the most wonderful person who had ever stepped on this earth (he would have fought anyone who tried to say otherwise), the one he could share his future with.

And it looked like he wasn't alone in that, with the way more and more blokes had begun to crowd your space. Who did they think they were? Couldn't they see how you were well above their league or how clearly he'd already committed to keeping you for himself? Hell would freeze over before the Scot had given up what he considered naturally his, and you were no exception. It was the moment to carry on the perfect plan to win you.

➮ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

[amaryllis-3]

𝙹𝚘𝚑𝚗 𝙿𝚛𝚒𝚌𝚎

❀ You want a baby and decide to ask your captain for help

Idea | Part 1 | Part 2

𝚂𝚒𝚖𝚘𝚗 "𝙶𝚑𝚘𝚜𝚝" 𝚁𝚒𝚕𝚎𝚢

✿ Ghost finally finds the perfect mate for himself: another alpha

𝙹𝚘𝚑𝚗 "𝚂𝚘𝚊𝚙" 𝙼𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚊𝚟𝚒𝚜𝚑

❀ Dog hybrid Soap falls hard for you, the new medic

𝙺𝚢𝚕𝚎 "𝙶𝚊𝚣" 𝙶𝚊𝚛𝚛𝚒𝚌𝚔

✎ coming soon...

𝙶𝚑𝚘𝚊𝚙

❀ Ghost and Soap are looking for an Omega to complete their pack, too bad the perfect candidate, you, is already mated

Idea | Chapter 1

𝚃𝚊𝚜𝚔 𝙵𝚘𝚛𝚌𝚎 𝟷𝟺𝟷

✿ They appreciate their little new stalker far too much

𝙺ö𝚗𝚒𝚐

❀ Your personal stalker has come to get you

[amaryllis-3]

Word count: 2.1k

Pairing: John Price × Reader

Infos: Pregnancy, afab reader, mild possessive behavior near the end, mature and slightly dark themes

Based on this idea

As a member of Task Force 141, you'd dedicated your whole life to your team, to the Crown, and to the protection of international security. Going from home to work and from work to home had become the normality you'd learnt to accept.

It was nothing too tragic, truly.

When you were on duty, you didn't have time to worry about your decadent social circle, and when you were off deployment, you could always hit a pub with one of the lads. None of them would ever turn down an opportunity for a little distraction. Hell, you'd even started spending more time in the barracks than in your flat, to the point where the landlord questioned whether you'd died in action and he merely hadn't been informed about it.

Everything had been fine until, well, it no longer was.

Shrouded in the silence of your one-room apartment on a grey autumn day, you'd wondered what would be left of you after you inevitably ceased to be useful to the military. You'd probably be discharged with a respectful handshake, a few medals, and a good amount of money to spend the rest of your life doing... what exactly? Rot in loneliness?

No, you couldn't stand it, not anymore at least.

Those same circumstances you had considered acceptable and fulfilling suddenly seemed not to be enough. Perhaps you could have borne it in your early years of service, when your sole concern was coming home in one piece and making sure your comrades did the same.

But at the moment you had other needs. You were aware of it.

You'd wandered for a while in the dark searching for something that could help you feel complete — a sort of homemade spiritual journey with more failures than successes and the revelation you were seeking at the end.

You wanted a baby, desperately.

You'd never thought about motherhood before, and yet it had only taken the slightest nudge to turn it into the entire centre of your attention. It was as if a switch had been flipped in your head, triggering that innate and basic instinct to bring another creature into this world.

Shit, you had nothing ready to welcome your little angel.

The house you lived in was too small and in a part of town not ideal for easy access to schools.

Not to mention your job.

You clearly had to take a leave of absence. No matter how accustomed you were to injury, you wouldn't have tolerated the slightest chance of jeopardising your pregnancy.

You absolutely had to notify the higher-ups, or things were bound to get ugly. Money wasn't an issue with all you had saved, but it was possibly worth looking for a part-time job to support yourself in the meantime. All in all, it was better to be safe than sorry

Maybe, just maybe, you were moving things a smidge too fast. No, starting to buy baby clothes and toys was not a good idea because in your euphoric frenzy you'd forgotten a rather important detail.

You weren't in a relationship.

Now, that could have been a problem.

Your lifestyle wasn't helpful in keeping anything steady in the romance department. You could go on a mission and disappear for the next few weeks, if not months. You'd tried in the past (albeit, you must admit, with not too much effort), but balancing your various obligations had proved so stressful that you'd proudly declared yourself out of the market. Your new-found desire to start a family, though, would have forced you to return.

As resourceful as you may have been, it was going to be difficult to conceive a baby without a man to, you know, knock you up.

At that point, instead of getting on some dating app or throwing yourself into a classic blind date like a normal person, what had you done? Obviously, you'd gone to your captain, the man who had saved your life more times than you could have counted, dropping the bombshell he wouldn't have expected.

⎯⎯⎯ 「 𖤓 」⎯⎯⎯

"I want a baby," you announced the minute you entered his office, barely giving the door time to close behind you before you placed yourself in front of his desk. John's hand, which had been working on paperwork, froze in its movement, and his sterling blue eyes lifted to give you his full attention.

"Pardon?" His voice came out gruff and deep, words slipping out in a rush, as if his mind was not quite ready to digest what you had told him.

"I want a baby, Cap," you repeated unperturbed, shoulders squared, legs slightly apart, and back straight as a board. You were almost as confident in your stance as you were in your conviction.

Price's eyebrows furrowed, lips curled into a grimace that bordered on mockery. "Yeah... I heard that."

He hesitated, absentmindedly drumming his fingers on the wooden surface of the desk. "I was just wonderin' why you felt the need to share the ... news with me."

The man struggled to follow on which train of thought your brain had derailed.

What was this nonsense?

As far as he knew, you weren't in a relationship and didn't seem interested in one. At least, that was the reply you had given Soap when the Scot had pointed out your dry romantic situation.

Going from 0 to 100 wasn't anything foreign for you; he had learnt to deal with it, but this... was excessive even by your standards.

Had you met some bloke who had made you fall at his feet with honeyed words and pretty promises? No, you wouldn't have been fooled by it. Not his soldier. You were too mature for that shit, but John couldn't help the feeling of jealousy growing in the pit of his stomach.

"I'm telling you this because..." Your statement was enough to snap him out of the tunnel vision his stubborn self had coerced itself into; "...I need your help, to get one I mean."

The silence that spread through the office following your declaration was suffocating. You had mentally prepared for every possible reaction from him, yet seeing it actually happen was in no way comparable.

It wasn't the first time you had stood under Price's intense glare, not with how your relationship was set up. As much as he was your superior, you hadn't failed to make your opinion heard if something didn't sit well with you. You had never come close to insubordination, never really questioned his authority, but you certainly hadn't simply responded with a mere "aye, Cap'n" and carried on with your day.

It was an odd partnership, but it worked for both of you.

If John had to be honest, he viewed it as refreshing and somewhat fascinating. He was aware of how deep your loyalty ran — you'd have followed him down to hell if it had been necessary — so he could overlook your more colourful comments. Still, that didn't mean that he would spare you any of his warning stares.

He wasn't sure if you were playing a nasty prank on him. It wasn't like you, not about such personal matters anyway.

You probably weren't, if the determination and sheer earnestness flashing in your eyes could serve as an indication. That, though, led him to another, bigger problem: seriously consider what you were asking of him.

To state that, after all the years you had spent working shoulder to shoulder, Price had never thought of moving things to another level with you would have been a lie. He clearly found you attractive, and the chemistry between you two was undeniable. But hell, you worked so well in his team that he didn't feel like fucking it up simply for some of his urges.

Blurring the lines between work and love life could prove to be a minefield, a dangerous territory where it was difficult to venture.

You, however? Seemed more than willing to dive in like a suicidal maniac.

"You sure are somethin'." He exhaled, with a hint of exasperation. He was way past the age to keep up with you; that much was clear.

John hadn't even entertained the idea that you might see him as more than a trusted friend (he refused to believe that your relationship was purely professional), and now you were begging him to impregnate you? A whiplash wouldn't hold a candle to what this whole affair had become.

He would have wanted to plant his hands on your shoulders and shake some sense into you, to bombard you with questions about how you came up with such a plan, to remind you, in a perhaps overly patronising way, that this was not a decision you could take lightly: it was one that would change your future in the long run, one that you appeared to be handling far too casually.

His tired and burdened body rose from the chair in all its might, strong legs leading him directly in front of you. You owed a lot of explanations to your Captain, who had no intention of letting the matter go without first securing the info he was seeking.

"Why are you proposin' this to me?"

There was no malice or accusation in that, only a curiosity that bordered nearly on morbid. John felt shameful in that moment. Of all the vastly more important issues he could have raised, that was the only one his mind had focused on.

In a twisted manner, you had chosen him.

The knowledge that you'd handpicked him of all people to 'help' you was enough to rub his ego in all the right places, but he needed to know why.

Did you realise who you were offering this to? The consequences that would have followed?

His gaze never left your face, refusing to miss any possible change in your mannerisms. He made you feel like a rare species under a microscope, as if you couldn't hide anything from him, not when he had already scoured the innermost depths of your being in search of answers.

"You're the first one I thought of," you mentioned, finding it almost difficult to get the words out. Your limbs had suddenly become tense, making your posture stiffer than it should be. "Besides, I couldn't trust anyone but you with this."

John regarded himself as a stable person, capable of maintaining a cool and detached mind even in the most absurd and stressful scenarios. Yet in that moment, you had really managed to catch him off guard.

For fuck's sake, he had enough.

Did you want his cock to bully your pussy so badly, to fill it with cum again and again until there was no doubt left about the life he had planted in your womb?

He wasn't going to stop you.

Noticing his impassive expression, you hastened to assure him that, should he accept, you would ask nothing in return: no support for the baby, no parental responsibility, and no emotional attachment.

At that he merely snorted, shaking his head as if trying to chase away an annoying bug.

If you thought he would leave both of you, you and YOUR child, you obviously had still not fully understood the kind of man he was.

John could already imagine it.

A small cottage surrounded by nature, his beautiful wife waiting for him at the door, open arms and sweet smile, the laughter of children in the distance, and a warmth to finally caress his tough skin.

He wouldn't have let you resume your military career after; it would have been too dangerous and pointless.

Not that you had to know.

You would have so much to think about that you wouldn't even notice it. Your little angels would need the steady presence of a mother, and you certainly wouldn't be the one to deprive them of that, would you?

Don't worry; he would take care of it, putting his life on the line for the safety of your little family.

Family.

He had struggled to believe he could ever have one of his own, and now you were offering it to him on a silver platter. How lucky.

"Alright." His calloused hand rose to meet your cheek, thick thumb being passed over the soft pad of your lower lip. His face lowered enough to be exactly before yours. "I'll help you, just... don't come cryin' later for bitin' off more than you could chew."

Tag list: @nova-willow-541

✎There will definitely be a part two in the future.

[amaryllis-3]

Okay, hear me out... Last week I woke up in the middle of the night with this idea, and it has been haunting me ever since, so I decided to share it.

(AFAB reader)

After devoting most of your life to serving the nation, in some sort of weird, anticipated mid-life crisis, you realised you needed something more.

You wanted a baby, desperately.

And what had you thought at that point, pray tell, instead of working on finding a relationship and building your own sweet family? Obviously asking your captain to get you pregnant.

Indeed the first sensible answer anyone would have come up with.

So, with perhaps too much hope and little to no certainty, you had suggested it and received in return the most intense look Price had ever given you since you had known him. You almost expected a no, but he had agreed to help you, surprisingly, and as bizarre as it might sound.

Don't be fooled, though. John was only pursuing his lowest and most personal interest, rather than doing you a favour. After all, how could he have refused when you had handed on a silver platter what he had come to crave in recent years?

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ 𖤓⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

✎ I already happen to have a longer version of this sitting in my drafts (I'm still working on it) and may publish it in the future!

[amaryllis-3]

Alpha Simon "Ghost" Riley x Alpha Reader

Word count: 1.7k

WARNINGS: NSFW near the end, 18+, MDNI, Omegaverse AU

AN: I don't know what confidence boost prompted me to publish it, but by now the damage is done. I am quite shy and self-conscious about my writing, so bear with me on this one.

There was something extremely wrong with him; Ghost was sure of it — something that went against general opinion, against the organisation of their whole society, and unfortunately also against his own nature.

Simon Riley despised Omegas.

No, that was not the right verb to use.

He was scared to death of having to deal with one of them in the future, as one would expect from an Alpha worthy of the name.

The Omegas were too... soft for the likes of him.

Generalise was wrong, he knew. In his military career, he had met many who could give the most unhinged alphas a run for their money.

One thing, however, seemed to bloody well remain constant in each of them: that something sweet and gentle that sent him into complete turmoil, and not in a good way. He felt like an elephant in a glassware shop, as if his breath alone, if not calibrated well enough, could have completely shattered them.

Simon's entire life, for as long as he could remember, had been marked by violence. A mixture of blood, pain, and gunpowder that would have horrified any other ordinary man.

Truth be told, that was fine with him. Maybe even more than just fine. It was absolutely perfect. The adrenaline pumping through his veins, his skin torn by scars, the weight of a rifle in his hand was what made him feel alive, what defined him. Ghost, agile and silent on his feet, able to hide in the shadows as if he were one of them, deadlier than an army of men.

This was him, and what Simon Riley needed was not tenderness and care. It was fight, teeth, bites, a constant challenge that no Omega could bring him; something he could only find in someone like him. Another alpha.

Admitting it to himself had been harder than he had imagined. Perhaps that was why, for a very long time, he refused to consider it.

Soap often joked good-naturedly about how he was the only one who still had not found a mate. The reason, according to the Scot, was how little effort he had put into not looking like what was essentially inseparable from him.

"Ye just need tae catch up wi' someone who can stand up tae ye, Lt," Johnny had commented in that big, positive tone of his, landing a friendly punch on his arm (which earned him a not-so-subtle look of warning). "'N' when ye dae, och how ye'll regret nae givin' it a chance sooner."

Yeah, that was not going to happen, by any means.

He had tried, albeit half-heartedly, prompted by his Captain's suggestions. He had proposed an Omega made especially for him, one that would suit his way of being. Price knew them personally and could vouch for them. They were a great soldier, with a clear head and not afraid to confront him should he be an idiot, and yet...

... it was not what he needed. It was a copy, well done, but nevertheless only a pale imitation of what it should have been.

That was probably the moment when he realised no Omega would ever be good for him. The discovery came as a bit of a shock, a whiplash on the back of his neck, though deep down he had felt it for far too long.

Omegas were not made for him, just as he was not made for them.

That being said, coming across an Alpha he was interested in had proved to be equally difficult. The military base was full of them, but none had managed to catch his attention.

It almost seemed as though no one on the bloody planet was destined for him, that Ghost was doomed to be alone for the rest of his existence. He had pretended to be comfortable with that for a while, carrying on as if nothing had happened.

Until you had barged into his life out of nowhere, turning everything upside down without even noticing.

It was not unusual for new recruits to be accepted. What definitely felt out of the ordinary, however, was to put them into a Special Ops team like his when they looked like they had barely gotten out of prep school. You were an Alpha like him; that much was certain. Your strong, citrusy scent filled the room as if you wanted to let everyone know of your presence, no matter how discreet it appeared to his eyes.

Simon had to be critical of such things. Theirs was a serious job; he could not allow a rookie to ruin everything and put his comrades-in-arms in danger.

Oh, how wrong he was. His sixth sense had never been so incorrect before.

You were lethal, a war machine made and finished, and that had attracted him more than he cared to admit.

Why, when he had chosen to put his soul at rest, did you have to show up and serve him everything he had ever wanted on a silver platter?

It was frustrating having to share common spaces with you, working closely together during missions. Although he didn't want to (lies), he was learning new parts of you that made him even further infatuated.

The situation was getting out of hand. Not only did his gaze find itself constantly following you around during the day (it was inevitable, he told himself; he had to make sure you didn't screw up everything), but to make matters worse, your stupid image had started to haunt him at night as well. Heated dreams of embraces, scratches, slaps of skin against skin that made him wake up in a pool of sweat, more aroused than ever.

It was pathetic, absolutely pathetic, that a man like him, with his past, had regressed to the status of a lovestruck schoolboy. A friendly touch was enough to send all the blood in his body straight to his cock. He had solely his mask to thank for concealing the almost shameful grimace in which his expression twisted into when that happened.

He couldn't go on like this; he was going insane.

Maybe that was why, in the middle of the night, after waking up from yet another wet dream, frustrated and needy, he had left his room to go bang on your door. The two glasses of bourbon he had drunk earlier had clouded his mind just enough to put aside his doubts and possible second thoughts. He was going to do it: put those fantasies to rest once and for all and replace them with the real thing.

It had taken you quite a bit to answer. He couldn't really blame you considering he had woken you up at two in the fucking morning. Your hair was slightly ruffled, your eyes clouded with sleep when you graced him with your presence.

God, he couldn't contain himself any longer.

Before you could ask him what the hell he wanted at that ungodly hour, one of his hands had gripped your shoulder, pushing you back into the dimly lit room, while the other had pulled up his balaclava just enough to reveal the lower half of his face. After absent-mindedly closing the door with the heel of his foot, his lips were pressed to yours, silencing any possible resistance.

Ghost knew he was being an asshole. It wasn't right to force contact on you when, until a few hours earlier, all you'd shared was polite chitchat. Yet you were a tough one, a fighter. You wouldn't have hesitated to push him away and kick him where the sun don't shine if you wanted to.

Simon almost expected it, though the sensation of a slap on the cheek and the accompanying outburst of possible insults never came. Instead, he sensed your fingers run through the light strands of his hair to press his face closer to yours, your tongue duelling with his for control.

You were returning his kiss with as much passion, if not more, than he had put into it.

It was overwhelming, making his head spin and taking the air out of his lungs at how intense it felt.

You wanted it; you really wanted it. You were not rejecting him; you were not rejecting that taboo contact, that something against nature that was the attraction between two Alphas.

Every thread of restraint that might have remained in him snapped at that realisation. His grip on you tightened, and he somehow managed to manoeuvre you underneath him, your back resting against the undone sheets of your bed. It was short-lived since you did not take long to reverse positions, grinding your lap against his whilst your teeth nibbled at the flesh of his neck.

Ghost would not have left you in charge long, but for the moment he could still enjoy the weight of your body on top of his. Your nails had dug into his skin as you sought the pleasure you craved. You were adorable in his eyes. Your pupils dilated, your skin heated, and the growl that echoed in your throat with every movement. All utterly perfect.

Oh, how pleasant was the feeling of your hole contracting around his dick, how immensely arousing was your face contorted into a grimace as you tried to take it all in one go. "Look at you, so greedy... You love it that much, don’t ya?" he grunted, amused, his chest pressing against yours as he forced your knees to rest against the sides of your face. Folding you in half.

You mumbled a "shut up" or something along those lines in return, but you were not denying his statement. He found it quite hilarious, actually, so much so that he cracked a laugh even as he was rearranging your insides.

No real words had been exchanged. They were superficial when the pent-up energy between the two of you had finally obtained an outlet. Thinking about the consequences of his actions did not seem right to Ghost, at least not at that time.

Would things get complicated once the fog of lust had cleared? Probably. Would he have regretted going on anyway? In no fuckin' way. You'd had the chance to push him away before. You hadn't, and now you had to deal with all that was him, Simon Riley.

Maybe, just maybe, there was really nothing wrong with him, just something misunderstood if you too, with those almost teary and yet fiery eyes, seemed to harbour the same feelings as him.

➮ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓