Hello, hello! I'm Ghoul(they/them) and I write fic, like a lot of fic. This is my Directory
I write in second person(you) so all of my fic can be read as x reader, and you can think of any callsigns/nicknames as your own. However, my fic is technically x oc, if that's not for you no problem! I don't include descriptions or names in any of my fics.
I am an adult writing stories about adults for adults, and so Minors and Ageless Blogs Do Not Interact
I do not give consent for my work to be used in ai, be that ai chats or ai writing. This is a hard boundary I will not budge on.
Buy me a Ko-fi! And check out my ao3
Here I am on bluesky!
COD AUs
Cowboys
Fae
Demons
Ballet
Historic Aus
Sin Summer
Ghost!Ghost
Regency Au
Cyberpunk Au
The Ghost Distribution System
Professor Au
I want the Darlings
Sugar Daddy!Hesh
SCP-141
Shining Au
The Price of Fire
Alone on the Holidays?
Hephaestus!Nikto
The Doll Au
Cult Au
Monstober 2025
FAQ:
Can I write Fic with your OCs?
Yep! Just tag me in it if you post it.
Can I tell you about an OC I have for [insert au]?
Of course! OC talk is always open, but posting is contained to the morning.
Can I draw you OCs?
Yes. BUT I try to keep their descriptions vague so people can use them as Reader inserts, so I might not post/reblog it if you submit/post the art.
Do you take requests?
Sort of. If you have thoughts I'd love to hear them and if they inspire me I'll write something, but it might not be exactly what you requested. I tend to use asks as jumping off points rather than direct requests.
Do you cross post to anywhere else?
Yup! My ao3 account is actualPrincess
Could you make a character AI for [insert character or au]?
No. I absolutely abhor ai and hope it crashes and burns before it does any more damage to art and creativity. Role-Play in a discord server like an adult.
Do you have a list of your OCs anywhere?
Yup. Here you go!
Ghoul's Hozier Bullshit
Pillow Princess Ghost
those who plagiarize my work or harass me will be met with misfortune :)
Words: 4k
Tags: Eventual John Price x Reader, cult au, brainwashing, double speak, indoctrination, passively suicidal ideation, f!reader, self destructive habits, isolation, cheating, public embarrassment, insomnia, sleep deprivation, depressed!reader, cult leader!price, cult leader!Gaz
Summary: Your life has been on a downward spiral for months. It's hard to find a real reason to keep going when everything you do seems to backfire. That is, until you get a flier for a meditation seminar that promises to fix all your problems
<- prev chapter | next chapter ->
Kyle's class is definitely popular. You stand in the doorway for a good few minutes before you spot an empty chair and rush to grab it. Kyle himself sits against the edge of the desk at the front chatting with a few women. You recognize Claire, the quiet girl from the bar. That’s how you’re choosing to remember her, not as Claire the public masturbator but as the quiet one.
You don’t think you can handle thinking about that other one too long.
Certainly can't look her in they eye when she smiles at you.
The room feels, oddly, like a classroom. There are desks and plastic chairs, a white board at the front, if you didn’t know any better you’d think you were back in school.
It’s more like a night class you suppose.
Everyone here is an adult, most of them seem to have taken the class before too. You see people working on things, scrolling their phone casually, chatting with other people in the class. Again you're the clear outsider. Shuffling to the back of the class and keeping your head down. You're too glad there was an open seat near the back where no one can see you.
Specifically where Nina can't see you.
You don’t really want to be asked about John walking you in, and she's apparently a front row kind of girl.
Walking in with John was sort of nice, you suppose. He held the door for you, talked in a low tone like he only wanted you to hear it as you walked past. You’d seen a couple people glance your way, and more than a few people stick their eyes to John.
He must be pretty well liked around here.
What the hell is he doing talking to you?
Doesn't matter. You don’t want to give your new friend the wrong idea, so best to avoid her and put some distance between yourself and John.
Because isolating yourself has literally never backfired for you before. You mentally roll your eyes at yourself.
Maybe you do need a life coach.
Kyle claps his hands and you see the people he was talking to scurrying back to their seats. His smile positively lights up the room, all teeth and a sparkle in his eyes. You close your own phone to pay attention. You paid for this class, you may as well learn something.
Nina was right about one thing, this guy is hot.
Are all the instructors here hot?
“I see we have a new face today,” He says with a cheery voice, his eyes landing on you like an 18-wheeler.
Every eye in the class turns to look at you.
The twist of bodies is a sickening crack of bones and creak of plastic, placid smiles that don’t touch a single eye in the room as they all settle on you.
You force a smile.
“Introduce yourself,” Kyle presses.
“Sure,” You try to keep your voice from wavering, “I’m, uh-”
“Would you stand up please?” Kyle presses again.
“Sure.” You push back from your desk to stand and you’re thrust back into secondary school, you barely get your name out before the entire group is repeating it back to you, “Ni-Nina said I should take this class, said it changed her life and I guess I need a change too?” You laugh a little at the self deprecating comment, not sure why you feel the need to explain yourself so clearly. You’re on the spot with no idea what to say.
“That’s good,” Kyle tells you, “That’s why we’re all here, to try and improve ourselves.” When you go to sit down he stops you, his smile wide as he holds up his hand. “Why do you think you need a change?”
“What?” The question throws you, just at the edge of too personal.
“You need a change, why?” Kyle presses again.
“I guess I just-” you search for a reason, “-feel stuck?”
“Stuck?” Kyle prompts.
“Like I’m just sort of treading water, y’know?” You explain, you see a few heads nod around the classroom. “Stuck.”
“In what way?” Kyle tips his head, “Personally? At work? With friendships?”
You let out a breath and vaguely toss your hands in front of you, giving him a silent “I don’t know” before you ever open your mouth.
“Just in general.” Kyle makes a face, pursing his lips and narrowing his eyes in suspicion. “Like- Ok, like my partner fucking left me and my work sucks, and all of my friends think I’m depressing, and I’m just-” you spend a moment making aborted gestures of frustration before Kyle cuts in.
“Stuck?”
“Yes!” you relent.
“Good.” Kyle nods.
“Good?”
“Good,” He repeats, “the first step to solving a problem is realizing there is one, so: good. Good job.”
The acknowledgement settles over you in the ensuing silence. You skin feels hot, embarrassed, uneasy. Kyle stares at you, his smile almost sincere as the room waits. You don't know if you're allowed to sit down yet, so you keep standing.
"Anything else?" He asks, in a tone that betrays you've waited too long and now you're holding up the rest of the class. You shake your head and drop down into your seat, bringing your shoulders closer to your ears to hide the shame that creeps over you. "Great, then let's jump in."
Kyle turns towards the board at the front and uncaps a red marker, in tight neat script he writes out "problem" in the middle of the board and circles it.
"All of you are here because you have something in your life" — he turns back, his eyes touching you as he smiles — "that has you feeling stuck. I'd like us all to take a moment to identify what that problem is." He glances at his watch, pauses, and then nods. "We'll give it a minute, whatever first comes to mind."
The class falls into quiet, the hum of human noise silent as the group thinks. There is no tap of fingers, no yawn, no sound that might betray there were even people in the room. It grips you like a vice, holds you in place, scared to make a move and shatter the atmosphere with the scrape of your chair or a breath too loud. Even turning your head seems too much, the twist of your skin liable to make some horrid noise, unheard over the roar of blood in your ears as you struggle with silence.
Kyle checks his watch again and claps his hand. You do your best not to startle at the sudden noise.
"Let's start here, then go across and back." You follow the point of his finger to find the first victim of this game. They struggle to smile at him, apparently just as reluctant as you at being chosen.
You hadn't thought of anything in the time given. You'd been so focused on not coughing or sneezing that you hadn't picked one of your many problems to focus on.
And even with so many problems it all feels too personal. You hate yourself for constantly capitulating to everyone else, for never saying what you want, for being unable to make even the simplest decisions. You must have some sort of personality or facial defect because your ex cheated on you and then left you when you worked up the nerve to confront them about it, not even mentioning that you're still holding onto their favorite sweatshirt in a desperate attempt to maybe see them again and get an explanation. (Although you know that will only hurt you further, adding to your long list of personal defects that cause problems in your life.) You can't sleep, a medical problem that your doctor had blamed on anxiety and stress but refused to give you medication for because you "wanted it too badly."
You settle on something vague, something relateable, something that won't get you committed. Your boss is an asshole and is working you into the ground.
"I'm selfish," Nina says bright and clear from the front of the room, "I want too much from life, from the people in my life, and I end up hurt when they can't live up to my expectations."
Your eyes widen as you stare at your desk, discomfort taking control of the twitch in your lips. It's a thoughtful answer and far too personal, as if you were sitting in on a therapy session. Your mouth screws to one side, nose wrinkling, you squeeze your hands into fists under the desk.
Kyle says your name, shattered crystal cutting into your uncomfortable fidgeting. You jerk your head up and he smiles at you, pleased in a way that turns your stomach.
"You look uncomfortable," his lips form the words but you only feel the impact of them, "why is that?"
Your mind blanks, mental gears grinding to a terrified halt under his watchful umber gaze.
"Um," an elegant start to your own personal train crash, "it's just, really personal?"
"Sorry love, I didn't quite catch that last bit," his teeth are as white as a viper's, "could you speak up?"
"It's really personal," you shout, ripping your voice back to a quiver in embarrassment afterwards, "I didn't expect it to be so personal."
"And that makes you uncomfortable, knowing Nina more personally?"
You hesitate, fists balling tighter until your nails dig painfully into your palms. You look at Nina and she gives you a small smile, her eyes almost hurt. Almost.
You like Nina. You want to be close to Nina. Nina has been nothing but kind and welcoming to you, and you wanted- want to be her friend. To know her more personally, the way the rest of the women in her friend group did.
"It's ok," Kyle's voice is softer, "it's perfectly normal."
Nina nods, and the vice in your chest loosens a little.
"I'm sorry for picking on you," your gaze moves to Kyle, some unwelcome emotion bubbling hot in your throat, "but this is exactly what I wanted to talk about today."
He turns back to the board and writes out "human connection" before drawing an arrow connecting it back to "problem." He taps the board with his marker.
"Depression, anxiety, loneliness, most of our problems come from the same root." He crosses out 'human connection' and turns back to the group, "a lack of proper connection."
Anthropologists consider the first true sign of human civilization to be a healed femur. Not fire, not weapons, not writing, a healed bone. Proof that we weren't leaving our fellow man to die, that we cared for each other. Human civilization is built by human connection."
Not just being around other people but by helping and caring for other people."
Kyle closes his eyes, and takes a deep breath. If ever there was a perfect demonstration of a natural human system it was this, a precise singular in and out as if to center himself before speaking again.
"Nina wants more from the people in her life, because she's been neglected by those she loves, am I right?" Nina nods.
"Todd you started drinking after your divorce, right?" A nod from the man in the corner.
Kyle looks at you.
"What were you going to share?"
"My, um, my boss" — you can barely get the words out, your face feels hot, your heart racing — "he's an asshole, I feel like I can never do anything right with him, like he's undermining my career just because he hates me."
You cringe at how childish it is, how personal.
Kyle nods, sympathetic in his smile but not his eyes, before his attention goes to the group, "There's a term I like to use: the web of suffering. It's the idea that when one of our core connections breaks, it splinters into different parts of our life and makes it harder to maintain the rest of our connections. You stop seeing the people around you as part of you, part of your web, and start seeing just the hurt that, that loss inflicted."
You said your partner recently left you," —Nina gasps, it takes you a moment to register Kyle's attention is on you again, that everyone's attention has turned to you— "that must have been hard, does it make your boss hit harder?"
The attention makes tears prick at your lash line.
Everyone needs to look away from you right fucking now.
You swallow hard and give a jerking nod. It does. When he was still around even your bad days at the office were manageable. You knew you had something good to come home to, that at the end of the day there was someone who loved you, who wanted you.
You sniffle and feel an arm wrap around your shoulders, your eyes flit to where Nina is pressed to your side, her lip quivering and her gaze sincere. She must see something in your face because she gives your shoulder a squeeze and smiles as soft as down.
"Hey," she whispers, "us dump-ees gotta stick together, right?"
She's warm, a solid presence grounding you in the moment. You nod and she squeezes you again.
-
Nina stays behind after class to talk to Kyle, and though you offer to wait for her she shoos you off.
You feel raw.
Nina had held onto you for the rest of the hour long class, occasionally giving you a reassuring squeeze as you both listened to Kyle talk. Kyle, to his credit, didn't point you out for the rest of class, but he had grabbed your arm as you were walking out to apologize.
"You did really great work today," He told you with an apologetic smile, "untangling ourselves from what's holding us back is hard, but you took it like a champ."
You really wanted to be mad at him.
You probably should have been mad at him.
But somehow, even scraped to the bone, you felt better.
Like a weight you'd been carrying had lifted just a fraction.
You'd given him a smile and he'd released you, holding up a finger to keep you in place as he grabbed something from his desk.
He held out a pamphlet to you. Sleep restriction therapy. There's a boyish excitement in his eyes as you take it.
"You said you have insomnia, this really helped my mate sleep after we got out of the army, thought it might help you too." You'd flipped open the pamphlet and were greeted by a timetable.
"I wanted to give you some homework too," He said.
"I don't know if I'm coming back," you hadn't looked up from the pamphlet and cringed when you said it, embarrassed not to give this man a resounding yes, but Kyle didn't seem offended when you peaked up at him. He laughed, and your skin was hot with the sound of it. God dammit. He was hot.
"Even if you never come back," he relented, "let someone do something nice for you without trying to deny it. Just see how it feels."
You'd mumbled a vague agreement to that and scurried out since Nina had been so eager to talk to him. Although now you were standing in the hall with your tail still tucked between your legs and no idea where to go from here. Nina said not to wait up, but you wanted to wait, you wanted to thank her for comforting you. She didn't have to, but she had, and it had been nice.
You unfold the pamphlet again and start at the top.
"Sleep restriction therapy is a multi-step, multi-week process that initially restricts the amount of time a person spends in bed overnight and then gradually increases that time. The goals of SRT are to increase sleep efficiency—"
"How was class?" A rough voice beside you asks. You startle at the sound, and crumple the paper in your hands as your fists clench.
Disappointment lances through you at the damage as you loosen your grip and try to straighten out the page. You glance up at John Price and his smiles, a tight thing that creases the corners of his eyes.
"Didn' mean to scare you, sweet'eart."
"You didn't," you lie. His smile splits to show his teeth and you hurry to refold your pamphlet.
"Class was good," you tell him, circling back to the question which had not scared you, "I don't know if it's for me, but it was good."
"Gaz not pretty enough to bring you back?"
"What? No, I-"
He chuckles, deep and indulgent, and you realize he was joking. You press your lips together in a thin line as your face heats. John takes the opportunity to deliver a dangerous blow.
"Friday meditation has a space open, would love to have you if I still meet your standards."
You flex and curl your toes in your shoes.
You'd almost completely forgotten that you'd called him handsome on Monday. Apparently you were the only one trying to forget.
"I, uh, don't know if I have the funds for two classes this week."
"I'll tell Cassie to wave the fee."
You are going to set yourself on fire.
When Kyle said to let someone do something nice for you, you knew it would be hard but you didn't know it would be 'slowly pulling teeth' hard.
"Oh," you grit your teeth, trying to force the words past the dentition barrier, "that's nice of you. Thank you."
So much for feeling better.
John's smile doesn't falter, if anything it grows, showing more teeth as you fidget with the corner of your pamphlet.
"You must be itchin' to get home." There's a lingering note at the end, a tail that slithers quietly to a point.
A trap you tumble perfectly into.
"No! That's not-" You're too quick, too determined not to come off as rude, to be likeable.
"No?" John's voice is saccharin as it drips from his lips, patronizing in a way that makes your thighs press a little closer together.
Oh God you have to find different porn to watch if this is how you talk to people.
"I was waiting for Nina." You feel suddenly sheepish. You don't want to tell him anything, to stumble into another verbal trap that reveals some new horror to you.
"Nina," her name sticks in John's smile, caught in his teeth, "she's a good one, we're all big fans."
You swallow the jealousy that threatens to clog your throat.
You get it, Nina is great. You like Nina a lot, so why wouldn't other people?
Your head turns just slightly to glance back at the classroom for her and John's hand raises, turning you back towards him with two fingers against you jaw.
"Should focus on the people you're talkin' to, sweet'eart."
It drops heavy into your stomach beside his cloying 'no.'
Oh no.
You get a sudden flashbulb memory or John's ass in yoga pants as your brain desperately attempts to remember if you'd peaked at his dick too.
You may not need to set yourself on fire, because you're going to spontaneously combust instead.
"Feelin' alright?" John hums, switching to cupping your cheek then resting his knuckles against your forehead, "Got warm all've'a sudden."
"I have to go." You're crumpling your pamphlet again. "I have to leave right now."
"Oh," John's hand drops and whatever spell he'd cast over you breaks, "alright."
You turn and power walk towards the rec center entrance. Nina is a big girl, she doesn't need you to wait for her.
"See you Friday," John calls behind you when you barely manage to get the front door open.
"Yep!" You will not live that long.
-
Nina texts you while you're on the train home.
"John says you were waiting for me :( Didn't realize I took so long with Kyle, get home safe <3"
You try not to feel guilty for leaving. She did tell you that you could go, but you shouldn't have run out of there so fast.
God you are such a fucking idiot.
You knock the back of your head against the train window a few times, closing your eyes against the wave of exhaustion that hits you.
Maybe there's something wrong with you.
You do your best to uncrumple the sleep therapy pamphlet against your thigh, smoothing your hand over the edges with care until it feels a little more presentable.
You curl over yourself to read it, your trunk unable to bear the weight of the day as you slouch in your seat.
It's an easy enough idea. You just don't go to bed until you normally fall asleep. You try to think of what time you fell asleep last night. Maybe three or four in the morning? That sounds really fucking bad.
You check your phone and work up the nerve to type out a reply to Nina, but not enough to send one. So you delete the reply and switch to instagram.
Halfway down your front page you get an ad for the rec center. Your fingers hover over it like some sort of divine sign before you remember your phone is probably loaded with spyware. You give the ad page a tap and are brought to the 'Whole Body' instagram page.
It's exactly what you suspected it would be: smiling groups of people doing yoga, an attentive class, kids at summer camp, typical rec center stuff. You open one of the videos to watch a group of children tumbling around in a bounce house, the caption tells you it's from community day, whatever that is. You scroll and are greeted by John opening what you recognize as the meditation room door, it opens to a green screen boasting membership passes are now on sale. It's cringe as fuck, and screams "botched attempt to be hip with the young people."
"Hey fam," John says, his tone genuine if a little confused, "check out these dope deals."
You smile despite yourself and like the video. You open the caption to see the usual 'letting the boss try out social media for the day' message. You suppose even meditation seminars aren't immune to viral marketing gimmicks.
You close out of their reels and scroll up to follow the page. There's a youtube link in their bio boasting pre-recorded meditations. Again you hover over the link, torn.
On the one hand, the meditation class you took on Monday was the most relaxed you've felt in ages, and there's a good chance the dulcet tones of John Price can put you to sleep. On the other hand it's a quick fix, and you're not sure how long it'll work for. You look at the sleep therapy pamphlet on your knee.
Kyle's trying to help you, the least you can do it try it.
You close your phone as the speaker chimes for your stop and stand to start get off. You'll think about it on the walk home.
-
You get another text from Nina as soon as you stick your key in your front door.
"Hope you got home safe!"
You type out a quick reply as you scoot inside and hip-check your door closed.
"home safe, it was great to see you!"
That feels too impersonal. You delete it.
"finally home, great class tonight!"
That's not right either. You don't know if you'd call class great after crying in front of a dozen people.
"i'm home"
What are you a guy who isn't interested in her?
"home safe, thanks for today!"
Quick, clean, neutral. You stare at your phone screen and dare yourself to send it. You tap the button ignoring the creep of anxiety that comes with the 'sent' notification.
You lock your phone and putter about your apartment making pot noodle before settling on the couch to find something to watch. You spend a few hours watching netflix previews trying to figure out what looks good before your phone goes off.
Ten o'clock. You swipe away the alarm reminding you to call your ex.
Whatever mood you'd been festering in, the reminder of him makes it worse. You click out of netflix and look up an episode of Snapped, something light where a cheater gets what's coming to them.
You switch to a comedy when they start showing crime scene photos, squeamish at all the blood.
It's easier to tune that out, to settle into doomscrolling and ignore the raising and lowering numbers on your phone's clock. Your eyes get heavy and your phone screen dims as the battery percentage dips too low.
Three AM comes too easily to you.
But, for the first time in a long time, so does sleep.
When you haul yourself off the couch you all but collapse onto your bed, phone tossed onto your nightstand and work clothes still pressing their buttons into your skin. Darkness takes you like, well, like falling asleep.
summary: you gotten everything you've ever wished for.
pairing: soapgaz x reader, (past) ghostprice x reader.
warnings: hurt/comfort, mildly suggestive, GhostPrice (they're their own warning at this point).
notes: i made a slight amendment to reader's backstory, yes because i didn't want her completely alone.
part of the [rotten work] series.
John sees it.
the growing itch in Simon’s hands. the need for him to go to your apartment. the longing glance cast upon that knitted white sweater. nowadays, Simon can’t stray too far from it.
the man hasn’t been quite himself lately. and it worries John to no end.
and not that John is any better. not with the way he’s always checking if he’d been unblocked from all the ways they used to contact you. he detests the gnawing ache sitting at the pit of his stomach whenever he recalls that fact.
none of his messages have been returned. his calls won’t go through. he can’t find you on any social media and he’s got too much pride to resort to using burner accounts just to see what you’re up to.
then he starts to wonder if he and Simon read things the wrong way on your end.
because they know you. the sign you gave when you sent back John’s beanie was clear enough, wasn’t it? they left the door open for you to come back and you should have by now.
yet, you didn’t.
you’ve been radio silent since then. not a word from you. not another forgotten garment sent back. not even a letter. nothing.
and you’re hardly even at your place anymore. they can’t time the right moment to sit down and have a proper conversation with you because you’re scarcely available now.
John hates that the thought is starting to sink in.
that maybe you’re finally cutting ties with them.
“it suits you, dear.”
you were timid to wear it on this particular day, with a pink sundress and sandals. the necklace glimmers under the summer’s light as it rests comfortably on your neck.
you smiled. “thanks, grandpa.”
if only he knew the story behind it.
you’d rather not give your grandparents a heart attack with that tidbit so you keep it to yourself.
the three of you sit at the patio under the cool shade. the wooden couches lined with blue cushions were an added comfort among the lush green trees and flowers. you pour tea for your grandfather and grandmother as you talk to them while you have yourself a tall glass of lemonade.
it’s not often you come to visit them. your maternal grandparents were pretty much ostracized from the rest of the family years ago back for reasons you have yet to uncover. your paternal grandparents always spoke ill of them. for years, you’ve had the misfortune of being forced to spend time with your paternal grandparents and enduring the same treatment from them as the rest of your immediate family.
and for years, you’ve had the misfortune of not seeing your maternal grandparents for that time until you were much older and upon realizing that they don’t hate you as much as the rest of your family, you’ve come to mourn the time you’ve missed with them.
they won’t tell you why they don’t talk to their daughter anymore. quite frankly, considering how much of a bitch she is, you don’t doubt it’s her fault but you’ll leave that up for speculation until you hear the full story.
it’s nice coming to visit them every so often. you can’t believe you forgot how treasured you felt in their presence. the isolation caused by your immediate family must’ve gotten to your head, must’ve clouded your mind from remembering that these two people were the only ones who’s love never faltered on being unconditional.
you’re glad you came here. you’re glad you still have them. making plans to visit them more often becomes your new objective because you’re going to spend as much time as possible you have while you still can.
“so…” grandfather clears his throat. “there’s two of em’, you say?”
“yes.” you slowly say, watching him.
the wrinkles around his eyes become more pronounced as his eyes narrow. he’s always been the more protective one. given that he’s seen a lot in his lifetime, you can understand why. your grandmother, however, despite seeing as much as he has, tends to be more optimistic.
“oh, my! you never told me that.” your grandmother swats her husband’s arm indignantly. “sweetheart–”
“they’re both in a relationship.” you cut her off, your tone low and nearly trembling. “and they want me to be with them.”
“so they’re gay?”
“technically, they’re both bisexual.” you paused, glancing between the two of them. “is that bad?”
is it going to be a problem? are you going to have to make another hard choice here too? you don’t want to. you’d never want to have to choose between the two pairs of people who are dearest to you. ever.
and thankfully, you won’t have to.
“no, of course not!” the dark cloud over your head dissipates when your grandmother chimes in. “two men vying for your affection? you, my little dove, are blessed. i mean, that’s to be expected when you’ve got your looks from me.”
your grandfather groans as he leans forward to reach for another cookie. he takes a small bite of it. “so when are we meeting the bastards?”
“grandpa!” you huffed, laughing.
“what?” he said. “i wanna know the faces of the two boys who are taking out my favourite granddaughter. is that a crime?”
“it is if you’re going to be so hostile.” his wife mumbles, rolling her eyes.
his mustache wiggles as he grumbles something under his breath. it’s always been such a comical little thing about him that he likes to do because it made you giggle so much when you were a child. you’ve always been fond of it.
it seems your worries are a non-issue.
it’s not that your relationship is a bit out of the ordinary. not one but two men who are actively pursuing you. your grandfather couldn’t care if it’s a bit weird and beyond what he’s probably used to. he’s just going to be the typical overprotective father he’s always been no matter who you bring to see them.
and that’s fine. you don’t mind a little hostility from him since it’s mostly harmless and it comes from a good place.
“soon, granddad.” you finally said. “you’ll meet them soon. i promise.”
“good, good–” he nods more to himself.
you spent the afternoon answering more questions from your curious grandmother, who was more thrilled to meet your boys than her husband was.
Johnny and Kyle crafted their speech and delivered it perfectly.
they needed this time off. just a little bit to themselves to sort things out, to make preparations. after the necklace incident, they didn’t have much time to do all that before they had to report back to work and that didn’t sit right with them.
leaving you high and dry after such emotional turmoil. it wasn’t right.
and, fuck, they missed you so much too. unfathomably so. every second they were away from you was agony.
their Captain and Lieutenant were quiet as they listened and deliberated among themselves. the silence was palpable as the Sergeants were being scrutinized.
it was a long while before Price leans back and slipped the cigar out from between his lips, billowing out a puff of smoke. Simon stood sentinel behind him with arms folded.
“so when are we meeting the bird?” asked the Lieutenant.
“soon, i think.” Kyle replies first. “she’s a bit shy so give her some space to adjust.”
“bit shy’s a severe understatement.” Johnny grumbles under his breath.
Simon grunts with a nod. “noted.”
“got a picture of her?” the Captain suddenly asks.
the Sergeants glance at each other, both unsure, both unsteady on how to proceed. it’s Johnny who takes the initiative, fishing his phone from his right pocket.
“no.” Kyle grabs the device and switches it off. Simon and John stare at him with raised eyebrows. “you can run background checks on her after you’ve met.”
this is you they were talking about and if things were to get serious, John and Simon had to approve. otherwise there was going to be a whole mess of things. they were so close, too fucking close to ruin things now.
John gave him a hard stare. almost scathing. hot to the touch. he’s not often denied things concerning the safety and well-being of his people. but if both Gaz and Soap are in agreement of something then it would be wiser to trust them than go against it.
“alright.” he concedes. “whatever you say, Sergeant.”
“and do not pick her apart once she sets foot in yer house.”
the warning goes to both of them. Johnny’s glare is directed at the man standing behind his Captain.
“i mean it, Simon.” he adds, his tone firm and direct. “we’ve worked too hard tae keep her grounded. she’s no’ running off because ye said somethin’ foul. keep yer thoughts tae yerself till after she’s left.”
Simon and John glance at each other, almost in disbelief. their Sergeants have never been this committed to anyone other than themselves until now and it was a shocker to see this new change. whoever this bird is must be pretty damn special.
Kyle places a hand on his partner’s shoulder in agreement, quietly reinforcing their need to protect you from anything and anyone.
even their most trusted friends. their superiors.
“two weeks.” finally said John. “get your affairs in order and then we meet her.”
you’ve been taking steady breaths. slow and heavy, sometimes mellowing out into a normal pace. but your heart leaps into your throat when you play it over and over again.
your boyfriends (yes, boyfriends) came back far sooner than expected. you were shocked when they explained to you that they asked for this time off. a couple of weeks. to make sure that you’re still on solid ground with them, to make sure that you weren’t planning on taking off while they were absent.
the thought hadn’t even crossed your mind. it didn’t even occur to you that they were even worried about the prospect of that happening.
“hold still, hen.” Johnny’s fingers fiddle with the clasp of your heel. you hold onto his shoulder to keep your balance while he helps you put on the shoes he and Kyle got for you. “now the other one.”
Kyle leaned on the door frame, watching. waiting as he puts on his cufflinks. they’re both in crisp white shirts and dark dress pants. both prepared for this date and helping you get dressed too.
your first real date with them.
you’ve been on a few outings with them, sure. but those were casual. no pressure involved, no full expectation of anything groundbreaking. they weren’t this.
a fancy dinner. getting all dolled up in a pretty dress. gathering the courage to wear the stunning diamond necklace they got for you.
(the very necklace that nearly ended it all).
your stomach fluctuates between hurling breakfast and fluttering butterflies depending on how much you’re trying not to spiral into your thoughts. all the while Johnny stands behind you and clasps the last piece of jewelry, letting it rest on your skin.
“the owner of the restaurant is a good friend of ours and he knows about you.” said Kyle. “so don’t you worry about some muppet saying anything rude, alright?”
“okay.” you catch his gaze in the mirror and nod with a smile. “i understand.”
they went to such great lengths for this. you can tell. it’s all such a dream, it doesn’t seem real that you’ve gotten this far with Johnny and Kyle. it doesn’t seem real that anyone has gotten this far with you when almost everyone else has abandoned you.
your hands clench when they start to tremble. you heave in one deep breath and let go.
it’s just the first date. one step at a time. they promised not to rush things because you’re so new to this. to loving someone who feels the same way.
you never thought this would be so overwhelming. not having to beg for affection, not having to be grateful for mere crumbs, you didn’t realize how heavy the cup weigh once it overflows.
“hey.” Johnny grasps your arms. his lips press against your cheek. “we love ye. remember that when ye get too deep in yer head. let tha’ put ye at ease, alright?”
you smile upon hearing it again and turn around to lace your arms around his neck to kiss him.
“i love you too.” you whisper into his mouth.
you’re not surprised when he doesn’t immediately pull away. the warmth he pours into you melts all of your jitters away and you sink right into him.
nothing will ever compare to this.
“Johnny…” you giggle into his mouth when his hands start to wander and grope. he groans into your mouth.
“no fucking against the mirror or we’re going to be late.” Kyle reminds the two of you as he approaches. you stifle a laugh when Johnny pouts at him. “first date, remember? we can’t miss this.”
he cups your cheek and leans in to press his lips on yours. a kiss that is softly returned. the dazed look he casts upon you when he pulls away makes you all too flustered.
first date. implying that there will be a second and third and many more to come. suddenly, there doesn’t seem to be an end to a future with them. you don’t feel the weight of a time limit in their presence.
Johnny sighs dramatically, rolling his eyes. “fine. alright. no fuckin’ against the mirror.”
“we can do that after the date.” you offered, “you won’t even have to take off my dress.”
both of them brightened upon hearing that and were all too eager to leave the house. you and Kyle wait while Johnny was pulling the car out of the driveway.
your fingers lace with Kyle’s as you whispered to him, “love you.”
he retaliates by pecking your cheek three times, a bright smile flashing across his lips before he embraces you tightly in his arms, drawing a delighted laughter from you.
you were only falling in love.
and they were right there waiting to catch you with open arms.
i almost feel bad for setting reader up for failure...
hate it when you see something in media that has great kink potential so you skedoodle post-haste to ao3 only to discover there's none fic left beef and then you have to sit there going oh I see I'M the pervert weirdo I'M the problem with society and everyone else in the world is going to heaven with a hundred innocence dollars preloaded onto their ole fashioned wholesome funtimes themepark fast pass card like fuckin oath man
The blood on the walls doesn't smell right. Ghost thinks even a human would be able to tell - the smell of rotting fruit overwhelms the cramped hall where there should be the tang of metal and meat. The ground is covered with a thin layer of something that squishes under his boots as water drips and echoes through the tunnel. Behind him, Gaz makes a disgusted noise.
"That's not blood, is it, Ghost?"
"Not 'uman blood," he confirms. He takes a deep whiff, and is disappointed that he can't catch the bright, clean, spicy scent of his companion over the mess. "Not vampire or werewolf, neither."
"Bloody hell," Gaz grumbles. "Do you know what it is, or just what it isn't?"
Ghost chuckles as he catches the sound of something skittering up ahead. "'S not anythin' like me."
"Thank the stars for that. Does that mean it's alive?"
Quick reminder that Kyle isn't boring. Not in the slightest. He's tired of everyone's BULLSHIT while struggling to hold himself to a standard of morality that simply doesn't exist in the career of necessary violence he actively chooses to be a part of on a daily basis.
Why? Because he legit thought that being the dark hand of fate would allow the rest of society to live in their light. But he quickly finds out how easy it is to slip into the ugliness of it all. Hell, he was already there from the start of the games.
Because remember, his first conversation with Price is, "Hey, Dad, WHY CAN'T WE DO MORE VIOLENCE TO GET THE RESULTS WE WANT VIA ANY MEANS NECESSARY?!"
That's not someone who is good, or soft or scared to engage with the enemy. That's someone who absolutely believes "The ends justify the means."
So yeah, stop writing Kyle as some paragon of virtue. He's just as deeply flawed as the rest of them. And that makes him awesome, interesting and yeah, just as hot as the rest of the 141.
I despise how the fandom erases him or accuses him of being "boring" because he hides his cracks better than everyone else. The fact that he hides his commitment to violence so well that he comes off as completely normal if you didn't know any better? Yeah, THAT IS THE SCARY PART.
inspired by this piece of art but oh, losing your husband to vampirism. heartbroken as you are, you fear for your life and that of your children, so you swear he'll never cross your threshold again. night after night, he prowls the yard and circles the house.
over the weeks, he cycles through begging, anger, and desperate promises before eventually abandoning language altogether, resorting to standing outside and watching through whatever crack affords him a glimpse inside.
the doors stay locked and the windows remain latched. you put up thick curtains and draw them before dusk each evening so he cannot peer inside. no one may leave the house after sunset.
but how the children miss their father.
one night, despite every precaution and warning you've drilled into their heads, your youngest stirs having heard the sound of their father's voice whispering in the dark. they slip from their bed and sneak out of their room and down the stairs, following the voice until it becomes clear. at the front door, they kneel before the brass cover of the mail slot.
"don't you miss me, kiddo? won't you ask daddy to come in? we'll play and play, then i'll read you a story and tuck you in. won't that be nice? ...mommy said not to? oh, well, hasn't mommy seemed sad lately? you know i always make her laugh..."
you wake to find him standing at the foot of your bed, your youngest cradled against his shoulder, sleeping soundly. he raises a finger to his lips, shushing you before you make a sound.
"hiya, darling," he whispers. "i'm gonna put this little angel back to bed, and then you and i are going to have a chat."
You are aware that a fictional character is just a rhetorical construct designed to fulfill a narrative/thematic purpose right? That their actions are written by an author who wants to use them to explore complex ideas and moral gray areas within the safe confines of fiction right? That they aren't a real person who has killed real people right?
You can thank @silverlullabies for possessing my hands)
John Price x Reader
CW: idk man, mentioned insertion, slightly toxic? idk? manipulation? It's barely there, but cw's just in case.
...He's not a romantic man, not really.
But you wanted it, so he'll do it. The stupid candles and the roses. Oils going in the diffuser to relax you and put all your worries at ease… makes it easier to convince you of things..
It's overwhelming, really. how heavy he is behind you while your front is pressed into the plush of the blankets below. He'd washed the sheets even, that clean scent sitting as a low note compared to the musk of him. Compared to the stench of the cigars he usually smelled of. Tonight though? Must've been new cologne. Tobacco, woodsmoke. Oud, maybe. Hard to tell when he's muttering to you. Counting freckles, tracing the outline of your scapula with a calloused thumb.
"Plush lil thing, mmh?"
His hips roll deep and smooth, not rushed or brutal like he usually was. Typically you were treated like a mission objective. But tonight? He savored you like a last meal.
Price was a methodical man, and he'd use that to devour each bit of you until there was no doubt, no question behind those pretty eyes on whether or not you belonged to him. He even promised to put pen to paper about it if you'd wanted.
But tonight? Mmh, no. Tonight he had to prove that Price wasn't just a thing that was paid, but that Price was a name that could be branded on more than just flesh.
