Hi, this is a reminder that I've switched to my new blog @doggoboigaugau to post writings and art works. I still haven't decided what to do with this old blog which used to be terminated for 2 months yet @@. But yeah if you come here to read the Stray dog series or for my art works, please go to @doggoboigaugau Thanks yall for your love and support <3
✨Masterlist✨
My writing:
Ghost x Soap x Traumatized Male Reader - Part 1 / Part 2 / For latest parts please go to @doggoboigaugau
Summary: Alphas are the victims of society's hierarchy. Ghost finds the medic of his team in a building and in heat.
Word count: 2129 words
Distant noises of men screaming and shouting were piercing through your brain while continuous explosions almost deafened your ears. You tried to urge your brain to work on recalling what the hell was going on at this very moment, but it was inundated with too many noises for analyzing to make room for another matter. Helplessly, you turned to your body, internally screaming for it to function as you found yourself unable to open your eyes, move your arms, or open your mouth. On top of that, you can feel your whole body burning uncomfortably as if you’re put on a cross and burnt alive like the Omega ‘witches’ in medieval times, and the burn feels the worst in your stomach.
Your heat arrives. Worst, it arrives in the middle of a gruesome battle, and you are the only medic alive on your team.
“Fuck.” You mumble. It won’t be too bad if you have your emergency kit containing scent suppressants with you like always, but during the ambush earlier, you dropped it while running for your life. If your enemy finds that kit, they’ll know there is an Alpha somewhere on this battlefield.
That won’t be of the gravest concern for you right now. Because you are in heat, your scent will soon flood this whole compound, and any Omegas that can sense it will blow this place up and search every corner to find you. A weak, lonely, delicious, and especially rare Alpha. It’s scary to even think about what will happen when they find you. Given that only 2,9% of the population now are Alphas, and most Omegas are likely to live their lives without experiencing Alpha scents and intercourse with Alphas until their very death, once you are found, you’ll never be found again. You’ll be kept in a cage, whether it is a room in a military base, a luxurious mansion, or a literal cage, and your only job from then on is to be a pretty little thing for the Omegas to cherish and sexualize.
“I have to think of something…” You mumble to yourself again. But what thing? Without scent suppressants, the Omegas will soon locate you and ‘eat you alive’.
Suddenly, the sound of heavy boots echoes on the first floor of the building whose second floor you’re hiding in. Who is this? You ask yourself. Are they on your side or on the enemy’s side? Either way, if you don’t think of an escape plan right now, your life as a free individual will end abruptly.
You look outside the window of the room, looking down at the ground below.
“Too high…” Even if you escape from this building, your legs probably won’t be good enough to run from potential predators later.
Much to your horror, you can no longer hear any sound anymore. The sound of the heavy boots just earlier appears to vanish into thin air, since now the only noises your fuzzy head under the influence of the heat can make out of are from gun fires, explosions, and screaming. Where does that person go? The inability to locate the potential enemy and the fear of losing freedom forever, subjected to hungry men’s wishes, makes the burning in your brain and stomach worsens, scared of your own active imagination.
“Doc?”
You jump. It’s a familiar voice, belonging to the person whom even in the middle of a crowd you can always recognize.
“L.t…” You mutter, turning your head back to what is supposed to be the door of this room in this dilapidated building. Ghost is standing there. His expression is hard to tell as always because of his skull mask, but you can easily guess his eyes are widened in surprise.
“You- you are an Alpha???” The massive man exclaims. It’s a piece of information that renders even the most unimpressionable man like Ghost speechless.
*****
Since the first record of humanity on Earth, there have been three genders: Alpha, Beta, and Omega. At the beginning of mankind, according to prehistoric parietal art, drawings on vessels, bowls, or potteries, and earliest writings, Alphas were described as the dominant individuals of the communities, leaders and decision makers of all trades, and the biggest contributors to growth and advancement in every field of the early societies. Betas and Omegas were by no means members of no use, but their roles were rather more passive and behind the scene, and when outright wars threatened, it was the Alphas that were powerful enough to withstand successive tortuous days of fighting and sustaining horrendous injuries. Portraits of Alphas were often men of tall and muscular build and in powerful poses, such as riding on horses with weapons in hands, or standing before a throne and overlooking a kingdom. Archaeological evidence suggested that during the early time, Alphas, Betas, and Omegas lived in harmony and each gender had specific roles to play in society, as Alphas–the gender bestowed with physical advantages–were in charge of diplomatic activities which also included wars; Omegas, with their slender frames, delicate hands, and exceptional reproductive abilities, were creators of the majority of arts, as well as the housekeepers responsible for educating offspring; Betas, who seemed to be the most “ordinary” of all since they were without any exceptional traits, would do anything necessary that Alphas and Omegas didn’t have the time for to keep the society function properly. In short, all genders were important parts of the early society, each represented a strong link in the chain of the prehistoric generations.
Regarding attraction and reproductive activities, humanity functioned mainly based on scent. Alphas and Omegas, as the most sexually active ones, had very strong and unique scents, and as a result, their scent glands which were located on the back of their neck were more prominent. Betas’ scents were much weaker, so the glands on their necks were not as noticeable. Another notable characteristic of Alphas and Omegas was heat circles. This varied across individuals, but on average, every three weeks or a month, they would experience heat, the time during which their reproductive capacities were greatest, and contrary to popular early belief, both Alphas and Omegas needed gentle care and constant scent reassurance from their mates. In order to mark someone as their “mate”, Alphas or Omegas would bite the scent gland on the back of the mate’s neck and inject their own scents into the individual through it, although historians agreed that Alphas were often the ones to do this kind of gestures due to their more dominant role in the early society.
However, the harmonious relationships among these three genders started to show signs of deterioration when mankind began expeditions to other territories in search of safe trading routes, both on land and at sea, to boost their economy. As trading exploded on various continents, bestowing great wealth and luxury to men, the consumers’ needs also brought about the emergence of new commodities. Omegas were one of those. Slavery became immensely profitable, and Omegas were abducted, captured, and forced to leave their homes. Since then, the value of Omegas was reduced to that of property that Alphas could own.
That part of the dark history was not taught in schools to children nowadays. The details of that time are only known to the historians, and are protected by the governments, which are now mainly run by Omegas. In fact, more than 90% of the people in power now are Omegas.
What brought about such a chance? The Omegas never accepted their place as slaves. After several generations of slavery, which could amount to some centuries, Omegas had become stronger, larger, and more muscular in build. They secretly connected to each other from all countries, and with the help of many progressive Alphas who opposed slavery, organized revolts against the governments. Victory ensued, and a society of equality was slowly being built again. The progressive people hoped to rebuild the balance of the old societies, but the majority of Omegas in power, who feared that history could repeat itself, had another plan. They slaughtered Alphas in secret, even the ones that used to help them regain their freedom. And when the brutality meted out to the Alpha population could no longer go unnoticed, they continued their quest of complete decimation despite opposition and warnings from the forward-thinking.
Only until there was no trace of the Alphas did these men stop their barbarity. But then they realized why the so-called forward-thinking were so scared of a future without any Alphas.
The heat circles.
Both Alphas and Omegas needed care and reassurance from their mates during these times, and an Omega without the scent of an Alpha, just like an Alpha without that of an Omega, would turn into a berserk monster blinded by the instinctive and primal needs. Thousands of men were turned into such a state every month, as the governments were now desperate to find any Alphas that had been lucky enough to hide from their blade, as well as fund projects that could produce remedies to this instinctive desire. Some Alphas were found, hidden away by their Omega and Beta relatives who truly cared for their wellbeing, but these poor boys were vulnerable and subjected to serious health problems, and even death, as they had to care for too many men.
It took the Omegas various decades and millions of deaths of men who craved Alpha scent but could never have it to produce types of suppressants strong enough to prevent further painful deaths. Still, the Alpha scents are what men have always sought after, and since below 3% of the world population now are Alphas, only the wealthiest, most successful men can lay their hands on an Alpha.
Alphas are now treated like Omegas in the old societies, the pretty little things that offer men pleasure and help to show off their status, but obviously, the Omegas are not very proud of what they have done to reach this stage.
*****
“I’ve always thought you’re a Beta…” Ghost says, his voice surprisingly so much softer than usual as he looks at the trembling Alpha in the corner of the room.
“It was…thanks to the scent suppressants…” You stutter.
“Then you’ve hid it well, haven’t you?” The man with the skull mask asks. You hiccup helplessly as you can feel Ghost radiating his strong scent which quickly wraps around your burning body like a warm blanket.
Scotch. His scent smells like Scotch. It’s funny enough because it’s also the man’s favorite drink.
“What are you doing…?” You ask, curling up into a ball in the corner, looking like a weak, newborn wolf pup who has lost his pack, alone and vulnerable in the middle of the vicious wild.
“Helping you to hide your scent, idiot.” The man chuckles, which is even more strange. He kneels down beside you, his strong hands grabs your arm, forcing you to open up before him.
Your self-defense mechanism kicks in as you try to struggle against this unrivaled Omega, “Let me go! What do you want?”
“Shhh…” Ghost whispers to your ear. His eyes narrow as he loosens the collar of your white coat, revealing your swelling, reddened scent gland. The poor little thing is twitching constantly, which is a clear sign of the individual being in heat and desperately needing suppressants or their mates’ care and scent reassurance.
“Let me mark you.”
“What???” You exclaim, unable to believe in your own ears what the man just says.
“I said, let me mark you.” Ghost patiently repeats, “As in I’ll bite your scent gland and inject my scent into you.”
“What??? No way!!” You protest and struggle again.
Ghost easily suppressed your weak attempt to get away with his strong hands and arms, “This is your only chance to get out of here safely, Doc. If I don’t mark you, your scent will reveal to every man here on this battlefield that you’re the rare Alpha that they’re supposed to have no opportunity to meet during their entire lifetime. You can imagine what happens after that, right? To them, you’re the delicious little prey that they wish to have at least a bite on. But, if you let me mark you, my scent will act like the natural suppressants, and you can go back to the base without fear of being found out and then take care of your heat later. What do you say, huh? Little Alpha?”
Seeing that you’re still indecisive, Ghost lowers his head to your neck again, “Or if you like, I can help you to take care of your heat as well…”
“I don’t need your help with my heat!!” You exclaim, then try to stay calm despite your furiously blushing face, “F-fine…Mark me…”
To be continued...
New series lmao...Also my surgery was delayed :)
There will be smut in this one, but rather with a darker theme because this is a dystopian society after all lmao 👍👍👍
Summary: Male Reader apologizes to Ghost after the incident. The two men confess.
Word count: 1516
Warning: Slight description of violent thoughts.
And here he is. Without the skull mask. The face of the man that has appeared so many times in your dream. Blond hair, long and perfectly curling eyelashes that slightly shadow his brown eyes. A long scar that starts at the corner of his left eyebrow, pretty near to his piercing, and runs down to the corner of his mouth. He looks even prettier than you could ever imagine. But you would never wish that you’ll see his real face for the first time in such a scenario like this. You gulp, trying not to stare at the three red scratches on his right cheek.
“I– I’m sorry…” Finally, you muster enough courage to say the words. Your mind thought of what had brought you here, into this embarrassing situation. You and the first man you’ve ever had a real crush on, Fyodor, met again after years of no contact. You lost yourself and found a place to fall into your old habit of burning your arm with cigarettes. Ghost found out, people started to surround you, and you got mad and attacked him like a rabid dog before running away. Then, Soap showed up in front of your door, and stayed with you in your room for a while, helping you to mentally prepare for this difficult ‘speech’ of apology.
Ghost looks at you, his brown eyes narrow, probably to gauge how sincere you are with your apology. The three scratches on his cheek that no one but you caused during the motion glow so bright to your eyes that it makes you feel even more guilty and horrible than you already were.
“Y/n, did you know you strip my mask off during that little act of yours? In front of everyone?” Ghost hisses, obviously very angry and disappointed.
You widen your eyes, feeling a lump in your throat as you try to say something. Anything. But you know nothing can fix what you caused. It’s because of you that everyone there has seen Ghost’s face, the thing that he has put effort into to hide from people.
Soap says, “Look, I’m not trying to underestimate the severity of this situation, but I just wanna say that I did step up and help Ghost to hide his face in time before anyone can have a good look at its prettiness.”
Now Ghost’s burning eyes turn to Soap and the Scottish man chuckles nervously, rubbing the back of his neck, “Sorry… You two continue, I won’t butt in.”
Again, the man of your dream turns his attention back to you, and you have to embarrassingly admit to yourself that he still looks so hot being angry like this. You turn your head slightly to the side with the hope that none of the two men will notice how blushingly red your cheeks and neck have gotten.
“Look straight in my eyes, Y/n.” The man roars.
Tremblingly, you turn your head back to look him in the eyes as he demands.
“Why did you do that to yourself?” Ghost asks, as he grabs your left arm and lifts it up to emphasize his point. His fingers squeeze around your flesh so tightly that you unknowingly grimace.
“I– I don’t really know…” You stutter. The Brit is furious, his aura is powerful and intimidating, and you can do nothing but shrink in his raged presence.
“You don’t know? YOU DON’T KNOW??” Simon grits each word through his teeth.
Tears brim in your eyes again, “I don’t know! Alright? It’s just… I just felt this burning anger inside my body, my stomach, and I wanted to… do something… to hurt someone! I wanted to punch someone really hard in the face multiple times! And then when they fell to their knees, I’d kick them really hard in the face. Then– then I’d peel their skin off! But I cannot hurt anyone but myself, so I did it! I burnt my arm and it made me feel better!”
Simon stares blankly at you, saying nothing but breathing heavily. Soap observes you two carefully, his eyes move between you and Simon.
You expect Simon to scream back at you, calling you ugly names, like a failure, a monster, a psychopath, a liability, or just a crazy, unloveable dog. But all his reaction is a surprisingly soft, trembling voice, “This is the first time you’ve ever opened up to us…”
Your big puppy eyes widen again at the man, as never in your dream would anyone respond this way to such bloody, concerning words.
“W-what?”
“I said, this is the first time you’ve ever opened up to us.” The man ‘kindly’ repeats the sentence for you, and Soap almost bursts out laughing. The Scot is notorious for laughing in unfitting circumstances.
“Well, actually he opened up to me just a few minutes ago.” Soap jokes.
“Shut up, Soap.” Simon rolls his eyes annoyedly.
“Sorry, sorry…” Soap giggles and then does the ‘zipping’ motion across the line of his mouth to indicate that he won’t butt in again and he’s serious this time.
“Y/n, why is it so hard for you to open up? To trust us?” Simon proceeds, his brown eyes glittering in the dim sunlight that manages to pass through many layers of blinds into his own dark room as if he’s crying. But he is not, because there is no tear.
Seeing that you’re not replying, he pries further, “Why??”
It’s quite ridiculous to think that it turns out Simon is the one who has this kind of talk with you. About ‘Why don't you just open up?’. Admittedly, no one will expect this seemingly emotionless man under that legendary skull mask and with the thickest shell ever to be forcing this conversation onto you. You thought he must’ve known why. You thought you two are somewhat similar, and he’ll understand why you do the things you do. Two wounded children who have to spend a lifetime trying to find ways to ease the pain engraved so deeply in their souls. He should’ve known…and helped you to avoid opening up about it. Instead, unfortunately, he’s here, making you pour your heart out.
“Alright! I’ll tell you why!” You shout, and the mountain of a man flinches, obviously not expecting you to be so harsh, “I’m just– not really good at maintaining relationships, OK?” Your brain starts playing tricks on you again, as Fyodor’s face pops so vividly inside your mind, along with the memories between you and him, and between you and some other people whom you wish things could’ve been different…
“I don’t understand how relationships work. I don’t understand how other people do it so easily. I don’t know, they just… they send each other stupid messages, stupid little jokes and memes, and then they hang out with each other,... I try to do the exact same things as them, but still I can’t. Everything that has me in it is just meant to end sooner or later. No matter how much effort I put into a relationship, it still ends in one way or another. It’s just– I’m just– different.” You stop to catch your breath. It feels like your heart can jump out of your ribs at any moment now and it’s hard to breathe. Then, you realize your vision is blurry, and that you’ve been crying this whole time.
Simon is silent for a while, before speaking again, “So… you don’t believe any relationship will work for you, so you just don’t open up to avoid…”
“Attachment.” You say. Breathlessly. “I will never be who I want to be.”
“What do you mean?” Simon is right in front of you. You two are so close now that you can feel the heat of his body radiating around you, as if it’s wrapping you up in the warm cloth of a blanket. He lifts his hand and wipes your tears rolling down on your rosy cheek with his rough thumb.
“I want to be…a happy, humorous, and likable person. Someone who can crack funny jokes. Someone with a positive and attractive aura. Someone who can make people immediately like them and want to be around them. Someone who has a lot of friends, knows a lot of people,... Someone is able to give love in return…”
“I’m pretty sure you’re already such a person.” Simon speaks gently, his voice is soft and warm.
“No. It’s just a facade. A mask. The truth is I’m a despicable person filled with ugly thoughts and jealousy.” You shake your head.
“What’s so fun wishing to be someone else?” Soap suddenly speaks up after being silent and observing you two for so long. He moves closer to you too, and now you realize you’re being cornered by both of the men. As you instinctively take a few steps back to maintain a ‘safe’ distance, the Scot smirks dangerously, amused at how scared you appear to be and how your adorable puppy eyes nervously dart between him and Simon.
Summary: Soap goes to see Male Reader after the incident between him and Ghost.
Word count: 2033
Warning: none.
You know you’ve fucked up. Losing control over your own actions and unleashing your emotions on your L.T. in front of everyone. Now you’ll be seen as a liability. If they’re kind enough, they may cross your name out of the upcoming mission and will take care of you later after the mission is over, and if not, they can get rid of you, making you transfer elsewhere and then you will have to start from scratch again, trying to build relationships with new faces while coping with the strange circumstances. Not that you are anything near as close with the other men of the 141 as they are to each other, but at least they’ve been around you enough to understand you to a certain extent and will let you have a leeway occasionally with the meetings or the paper works when they notice you’re not really OK for those seemingly effortless errands. With new people? You probably will have to shut your mouth and forget about your own emotional needs pretty usually so as not to be the center of disdain and labeled as an incompetent outcast.
As these thoughts run through your mind like midnight trains that seemingly carry with them the hope and dream of a lone onlooker into the pitch darkness, you sit in your room, door is locked, all windows are closed shut, with hands covering your face. You dread the thought of having to adapt to a new environment with new people so much that you think if the worst-case scenario ever happens, you will just end it all to save yourselves from further suffering and your stupid, unrealistic expectations.
What kind of expectations specifically? Well, you’ve never created a positive impression on any other teams before the 141 since you’re always that timid, reversed, and obviously mentally struggling pathetic wet blanket that stayed in the corner every meeting. No one wanted to talk to you or spend their precious leisure time with you because no one wanted to waste their time on a depressed little shit, or get heavily attached to by a crybaby that demanded their attention 24/7 or else he’d think he was worth nothing to them. Therefore, whenever you received the news that you’d be transferred to a new team, you always expected a new chance to be a different person. You would always try to muster all your courage and all the…qualities closest to extroversion inside you (if it ever exists) with the hope that this new team could be different. You would present them with a more optimistic, outgoing, and attractive picture of yourself, and they would remember to include you in everything, like some silly card games, some sparring bets, or simply just listing your name along with theirs when they plan to do something. You thought the feeling of loneliness and isolation that you used to feel among your old teammates would end. You thought you would stop feeling so invisible.
Technically, you do achieve these things while being with the 141, although you’re still the depressed, pathetic boy that refuses to open up for fear of your expectations not being lived up to; it’s your coping mechanism: you’d rather have nothing after all than risk being hurt. The 141 consists of kind and considerate men; they all have their secret, traumatic background stories so they understand that sometimes you need your time alone to process your own emotions without even having to know the exact reasons why; they always include you in everything they do, and it warms your heart every time they call out your name and insist on you going with them to different places. Still, one problem persists though, which is the inevitable fact that you have grown so attached to them that you feel impossible to ever have to leave. Even the thought of it makes your heart sink and your stomach lurch. It makes you feel physically sick. What’s worse is you probably mean nowhere near as significant to them as they are to you, which is a truth you cannot escape but still try so hard to ignore.
It was about some hours after the incident when someone knocked on your door. You try to stay as quiet as possible, even going as far as holding your breath so that whoever is on the other side of the door will think you’re not inside or you’re sleeping and will go away.
“I know you’re inside, and I know you’re not sleeping, Y/n.” Soap says with an unusually stern voice.
You groan loudly and stand up. Upon opening the door, you’re greeted with the sight of a big, angry Scottish man crossing his arms in front of his chest, his arm muscles stiffening. Apparently, he is here because of the stuff between you and Ghost. A thought suddenly crosses your mind, as you wonder what it would feel like if you also had someone who cared about you that much. It must feel nice. You think despairingly to yourself, though on the outside, you still keep that expressionless face before Soap.
“What do you want?”
“What do I want?” Soap scoffs, “Do you realize the dire situation you’re in right now?”
“Of course I do, you think I’m an idiot?” You grimace, feeling the indignation building up inside you again while the jealousy is burning your organs.
“Then why did you ask me that question?” Soap almost screams at your face.
Something suddenly snaps inside you, and you growl like a hurt animal, “YOU ALL WILL KICK ME OUT ANYWAY, SO WHY BOTHER?”
The Scott is obviously taken aback by your emotional explosion, his eyes widen and he takes one step back, “What do you mean by…kicking you out?”
“What’s else besides kicking me out of this team? Isn’t it obvious?” Your chest rises and falls noticeably as you feel like a combination of violent emotions is choking your throat. Anger, jealousy, despair, regret, hopelessness,... the worst-case scenario is so close to stopping being a scenario as you are actively making it truly happen. You scoff at yourself when the Scott is still trying to come up with the right words, a term that you despise so much suddenly pops up in your mind. Self-fulfilling prophecy. You despise that term with all your heart because you feel like whoever coined it and whoever uses it is blaming you, the person who has suffered so much in the past and is the victim of his own circumstances, for not being able to break the cycle yourself. How can anyone expect a deeply wounded soul to save itself? How can they expect right from the start that the soul knows how to achieve such a feast?
“Y/n…we’ve never planned to kick you out…” Soap carefully speaks with his softest voice possible, aware that acting impulsively right now will probably result in catastrophic consequences that can never be undone.
“It’s either today or some day in the future. It’s inevitable.” You coldly say.
“Why? Why are you so sure that we’ll get rid of you sooner or later?” Soap asks, clearly puzzled by your certitude.
“BECAUSE I’M REPLACEABLE!” You scream again, this time your heart feels like it’s being ripped open by all the overwhelming emotions which have been bottling up inside you ever since you, as a little boy, became known of what loneliness was. All the questions ‘why no one wants to play with me?’, ‘why am I always alone?’, ‘what do they have that I don’t?’,...‘what is wrong with me?’ and all the memories of how you always stood from far away, watching the kids laughing and playing with each other, or when you were on the street getting to your destination, and you suddenly stopped just to look at a group of young people sharing with each other about their normal days and talking about the new cool song they came across on a social app. The feelings that dominated your senses at those time are hard to describe. They are a mix of jealousy because you knew those people had what you’d never have, despair because you realized who you inherently were was the reason why you’re never meant for such relationships, hopelessness because you had come to terms with that loss, and, strangely, nostalgia. Nostalgia because you used to be in a couple of relationships that could’ve become the same as theirs, like what was going on between you and Fyodor, and you missed those feelings. You missed the touch, the care, and the fire. You missed the person you could’ve become.
“I am replaceable, alright? It has always been like this! Always! I’m nothing to any of you. I’ve always been nothing to every. Fucking. One!” Before you know it, tears are welling up in your eyes and your tough, emotionless facade collapses in front of Soap, revealing the broken, sensitive, and wounded boy behind. You collapse on the floor as well, your legs and one of your arms support to prevent you from hitting yourself against the cold cemented surface, while your other arm cover your shameful face as you cry like a baby in front of one of the greatest soldiers of the base.
“Just go.” You say between your pathetic cries as you try to swing your door shut when still crawling on the floor.
To your surprise, however, the man grabs the door to prevent you from closing it, he does this with so much force that the veins bulge on the back of his hand.
“What the–?”
“Listen to me, Private Y/n.” Soap grunts through his clenched teeth. “We have never thought of you that way. You’re not replaceable to us. You. Are. Important, alright? We can never get rid of your ass because we love you so much, like a real family. Am I understood??”
You looks up at the angry Scottish with your widened brown eyes, still the same innocent, puppy eyes that followed his every step when you’re first transferred to the base of the 141. Soap looks at those eyes and immediately the rage ignited inside him dies out. How can he be angry at you? How can he be angry at those eyes? The man kneels down and pulls you into a big embrace. His warm, large hand rub your back and you can feel his heart beats wildly as your chests touch each other.
“This is how you have been feeling all this time?” Soap asks, his voice rumbles. You flinch a little as his warm breath tickles the sensitive skin on your neck. It feels so strange to be this close to someone.
“This is how you felt that night, after we arrived at the base from the bar? When you stood alone in the parking lot? When you spent the whole day training without eating? This is how you feel all the time with us?”
You cannot reply. Instead, you are clinging on to him as if you’re clinging for your dear life, screaming into his shoulder. Your fingers sink deeply into his clothes, wanting to make use of any other ways to release the powerful tensions within yourself besides screaming your heart out.
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry you feel this way. It’s okay, I’m here now, baby. I’m here now.” Soap keeps pouring sweet words of solace and affirmation into your ears as you let all of the suppressed emotions out. Both of you know that this isn’t the end, your pain and deep-seated traumas will not be magically healed right after this embrace just because you finally have the courage to talk about it with someone. But it is enough for now. Soap is proud of you. He is proud because, either deliberately or not, you have decided to open up. Maybe getting help wasn’t what you thought you’d gain when you screamed words deep inside your heart to him a few moments earlier, but this presents a new beginning, a beginning to a life where you believe that you can actually have what you thought you’d never have. And you deserve it. All of it.
To be continued... (dang, when will I be able to finish this?)
Hi yall, I guess some of you have known that this is my old blog that got terminated back in Feb and I had to create a new one @doggoboigaugau to continue posting the Stray dog series (a COD fanfiction) and my art works.
So the announcement here is I will switch to post everything on the new blog, so if yall are still interested in the Stray dog series please go to @doggoboigaugau
Another thing is because I lost this account, I lost my taglist so I cannot add yall to the new chapters. I wanna ask if anyone of you still wanna be in the taglist. If no you can ignore this post, if yes please comment to give me a sign :> (like a "." is enough). Thank you <333
Tblr terminated this acc of mine two months ago and just decided that I did nothing wrong and gave me back while I already posted almost everything on a new acc @doggoboigaugau and now I don't know what I'm gonna do with this one
Yall guess who hasn't written a single word of Part 3 but still writing another angst piece that will never be posted bc he listens to depressed ass music at 2am 🧍♂️🧍♂️🧍♂️
I love ships where it’s like *perfectly “normal” person, maybe a bit traumatized, wet dog vibes, feels like no one really can see them* and *Absolutely deranged person, commits homicide on the regular, is mildly obsessed with them, is the only person who can see them* and it’s a messy toxic relationship but it’s so intriguing. Won’t end well unless they both get a lot of therapy.
