Hiya! I'm Saint Quincy, I'm in my 30s and I've been in fandom for longer than I care to think about. I write mostly poly!141, and will reblog recs and fan art.
Links: fic list - AO3
Rules: MDNI, no blank blogs, no AI or chatbots creators
tags: sickfic, omegaverse, a/b/o, scentmatching, semi established ghoap, mostly fluff, some angst
AN: possibly the penultimate chapter, enjoy!
Part Two | AO3 | other fics
Johnny has never felt more useless.
He would have stayed in that bed with you forever if he could have, if the guilt hadn't been eating him alive. The press of your body, tucked in against his chest, breathing slowing until he was certain you were asleep. Your cheeks still wet with tears, lashes clumped, still pouting as he rubs a hand over your back.
He knows rationally that your heart was broken long before he met you, but if he had been someone else, a different alpha, he would have gone after you that first day, he would have talked to Price, he would have taken the leave necessary to find out if you were meant to be his. He would have known how to comfort you properly.
Johnny knows why you reacted the way you did, he's been in the military long enough to understand the way trauma can manifest, the way your biggest enemy can be yourself, your own thoughts, your own feelings. He knows and yet, he can't help but feel like he's done something wrong. A better alpha, a more deserving alpha would be able to help you. Would do something more than hold you while you cry.
It's why he's dragging himself out of the bed, tucking you into the blankets, replacing his body with a pillow that you clutch on to with a desperation that breaks his heart. The jolt of pain in his knee as he hobbles to the kitchen is deserved, he's abandoning you and the pain is only a fraction of what you are feeling.
"Ahm goan tae kill 'im?"
Simon is sitting at the table in the kitchen scrolling mindlessly through recipes on his phone. He looks up at Johnny with a frown, his gaze going right to Johnny's knee.
"Not goin' t'be killin' anyone with a bum knee."
Simon kicks the other chair out, pointing to a steaming mug.
"Dinnae want a tea," he grumbles, dropping down heavily into the chair.
"Try again."
Johnny picks up the mug, the heat seeps into his fingers, just shy of burning but he accepts this pain as well.
"Cannae imagine someone rejectin' our omega. Bastart," he curses, trailing off into whispered obscenities he knows Simon only understands half of.
Simon listens patiently as Johnny tells him what you told him, his voice low, hopefully low enough not to disturb you. You need your sleep, you're barely over being sick and now they're causing you distress with their talk of packs and mates and just being here, disturbing your life.
He doesn't look up from his long cold cup of coffee when he hears you padding into the kitchen. Simon knows now what he knows, about the alpha, about the rejection, about all the hurt you keep close to your heart.
"Need somethin', love?" Simon asks in a soft voice Johnny has only ever heard him use with you.
Your feet shuffle against the floor before you answer.
"I want to go to my flat," you say after a moment of quiet.
Of course. You're rejecting them. They aren't enough, how could they be? They don't know how to hold soft things, how to nurture, how to protect something that isn't with guns, and knives and bloodshed. It had been years since Johnny had given up on the idea of a pack, but for these few brief days, bathing in your scent and daydreaming of all the ways that Simon and him could make you happy?
He should have never let himself hope.
"That's olright, prolly better than this dump."
Johnny can't find the energy to care about the insult. He knows its a dump, what omega would come here and think that the alpha that lives in this shithole could provide for them.
"I mean," you pause, taking a step closer to Simon, "it's a bit cozier. And my nest is there."
Your nest.
Your nest where you kept Simon's sweatshirt before you ever met them.
Your nest where you slept alone because some asshole had the gall to reject you.
"Need me to escort ye? Don't know what kind of shifty types live here."
You laugh.
"My bed is bigger," you say quietly.
"That so?"
"Mmhmm, and my couch is softer."
"Yeah?"
"Mmhmm, and I have a proper ottoman."
Ottoman? Why would you mention an ottoman?
"Y'know what ye're askin'? Johnny's already movin' more than 'e should be. Get 'im up there an we probably shouldn't move 'im again."
"You meant what you said earlier? About being mates?" you ask nervously.
"Course we did, didn't we Johnny?"
Johnny lifts his head.
You blink at him as you wait, face blank expecting to be rejected again. Because he knows what it feels like to have that voice in the back of your head, that ghost of doubt that manages to scream louder than everything else.
"Aye," he chokes out, "meant what Ah said. Goin' tae be sick of us before Ah even make it out for PT."
"I don't know, you might decide you're sick of me," you say it as a joke, but he sees it for what it is.
"Nae, never."
***********************
You feel surprisingly more settled once you have Johnny and Simon tucked away in your own flat. You know part of it is those pesky instincts, the ones that settled the moment you had them on the couch, your throw blankets and pillows placed around them, Johnny's leg carefully elevated on the ottoman, an ice pack from your freezer wrapped carefully around his knee.
They promised it was nothing, all routine, don't worry about it, but you had never seen a wound like that before. You had never so much as broken a bone. And now that you had the two of them here your instincts wanted to pull them into your nest and keep them safe.
Which was laughable. Simon was probably the largest man you had ever seen, he had almost bodily lifted Johnny off the floor when he decided the injured man was putting too much weight on his knee. Even with his knee in a brace you were certain Johnny would have an easier time fighting off an intruder than you would.
But if they stayed in your nest then nothing outside could hurt them.
Instead you settle for letting Simon squish you between the two of them on the couch. A throw blanket draped over your laps, the telly playing some inane reality show that Johnny insisted was worth a watch. It was not.
"'ave you ever thought about being in a pack?"
Simon asks the question in the same tone he asked you what you wanted for dinner. He does it without looking away from the screen.
"I guess? I mean, when I presented sure. Everyone grows up watching those fairytale romances with the omega in distress who is whisked away by some hunky alphas. So it's hard not to think about it, consider what it might be like."
"What about platonic pack mates?"
Platonic pack mates?
You shift to get a better look at him. He's still looking straight ahead at the telly. Simon has his hand on your knee over the blanket. It had been distracting at first, the heavy weight of it, even more distracting once your mind had started to wonder. It gives away his unease, his fingers flexing around you even as he tries to keep his face impassive.
"I've never considered it. I guess I never had any friends that I would have wanted to be pack with," you say with a shrug.
"Would you consider it?"
"Would you?" you ask back.
"'aven't 'ad a chance to talk to Johnny about it, but if we're goin' to be mates we should be open with each other, yeah?"
You nod, you know there will be things they can't tell you about their work. You have more than gathered that what they do is very dangerous. But a part of you still kind of assumed there would be things they kept from you, not on purpose, but just as part of the two of them being something before you. Even if for years it had only been friendly between them.
"Yeah."
"I know Johnny told ye we have a military pack, that we're close."
You nod.
"Our captain, John," Simon starts but you interrupt.
"Your boss's name is John?"
"Aye, good thin' most everyone calls me Soap."
You snicker at the name, "what's everyone call you? Shampoo?" you ask Simon.
Johnny laughs while Simon groans.
"It's classified."
You pout.
"Don't want you t'have to know that side of me."
You don't like the way he sounds defeated when he says it. You don't want him to have to hide part of himself because you don't want to have to hide any parts of yourself.
"Okay, so your captain, other John, what about him?"
Simon looks around you at Johnny before settling his gaze back on you.
"Bought a house, bit of a fixer upper but it has good bones. He had a suspicion about us, said it could be a pack house if we wanted. A place he can retire to. A place him and Kyle can rest. A place we could all be together."
You don't know who Kyle is, there hasn't been a lot of time to chat about your lives. You've heard that finding your scent matches can be emotional, chaotic, like the coming together of two stars at the start of the universe. But you imagine most of the time all of the involved parties can smell each other and are for the most part coherent and not feverish, and that they don't then trauma dump on the others before asking them back to their nest.
"Who is Kyle?" you ask at the same time Johnny asks, "'ad suspicions aboot us?"
Simon grins almost deviously, his gaze settling back on Johnny as he answers his question first.
"Aye, called ye smitten. Said ye were askin' questions about courtin' omegas."
You wiggle around until you can also see Johnny's face, a warm flush blooming across his cheeks, painting his ears. It creeps down his neck and you wonder how far down it goes. If he would let you take a peak.
"Someone caught your eye?" you tease.
It's out of character for you to be the one teasing, but you can't help the way Johnny's embarrassment makes your heart race.
"Didnae think 'e would go blabberin' tae everyone aboot it."
"Got us the paperwork all filled out and everythin', just got t'sign it."
"Paperwork?"
You don't know much about the military, or how packs work in the military. You don't really know how packs work outside of the military, you had only ever dated solo alphas and betas. Your last disastrous relationship was the closest you had ever gotten to sealing the deal and even then maybe there was a part of you that knew it wasn't going to work out because you had never considered what the next steps were. Sure you wanted the bond, your instincts had rode you hard for the bond, but then what?
"Aye, 'ave tae make everythin' official. Even Simon and Ah 'ave tae fill somethin' out."
Simon shifts next to you, his arm snaking around to rest over your shoulders so that his face can burrow into your neck. He breathes deeply, mouth ghosting over your scent gland and sending shivers down your spine.
"Don't 'ave t'rush," he says against your skin.
It doesn't feel like rushing, not to you. Not when you're practically bathing in the scent of the two alphas next to you. When instincts are telling you that this is perfect, this is where you are meant to be.
It's not a rejection, but the irrational side of you wonders if it is. Why wouldn't Simon want to rush things when fate, or nature, or whatever had decided the three of you were meant for each other. The rational side of you is already screaming that you are going too fast and doomed to repeat the same heartbreak. To live the same story as before. You push both away.
You push all of those thoughts away, breathing in Simon and melting into his touch. You didn't need to worry about all that right now, you would enjoy this for as long as you have it.
***********************
The three of you fall into a comfortable routine. You werenāt sure who was more antsy about being cooped up in your flat, Simon or Johnny. Simon at least had the ability to leave, after Johnny's first appointment post op where he had been scolded by the doctor he had been relegated to the nest.Ā
It made you incredibly happy to tuck the unhappy Scot into your nest everyday, taking care of him between researching and writing articles. Sometimes he would ask you to describe the places. What you liked about them. What you would eat at the restaurants. What you would drink at the fancy bars. What you would wear if you went there with him on a date.Ā
Then in the quiet of the night he would whisper to you what he would do with you after those dates. Teasing you with his words until you thought you would combust. Until Simon would remind the two of you that Johnny was on strict orders to not move his leg.Ā And Johnny would quip that you had two perfectly fine knees and the three of you could make it work.
Simon had impressive self control which meant that you and Johnny were left horny and a bit miffed that you couldn't convince Simon to let you explore each other more intimately.
"Goin' tae get dolled up for Simon?"
Johnny is propped up in the nest, fluffy pillows stacked up behind him. He's watching you with hungry eyes as you pull out everything from your closet in search of something to wear. You are sure your scent is crispy and burnt, and tainting everything you touch.
"I don't own any clothes," you whine.
Johnny looks pointedly at the piles of clothes on the bed, "dinnae ken if that's true, bon. Could go in that and Simon would be 'appy."
You look down at your comfy pyjamas, the kind that you had been embarrassed to wear the first night that the alphas were here and still felt uncomfortable with when you thought about it too much. A feeling you dealt with by giving into your instincts and stealing clothes from Simon and Johnny's piles that they had taken to storing in your front closet.
"But I won't be happy," you confess glaring down at the piles of clothes.
"Come 'ere."
Johnny pulls away the blanket, lifting his arm so you can burrow in to the space beside him. You hate the way his scent alone is enough to settle you, to melt away all that anxiety.
āI just want to do something special for Simon, heās been so good to us.ā
āAh ken, bon, but ah promise āeāll love whatever ya wear, but if ya want mah opinion, the first one with the buttons.āĀ
He tries to hold you but you wiggle out of his arms to rummage through the pile of clothes to find the first outfit you had put on before doubt crept in.Ā
āIf he hates it I'm going to blame you."
"Nae goin' tae 'ate it."
You weren't sure if you trusted Johnny's opinion on the outfit and the longer you sat alone at the table in the corner of this bar waiting for Simon you had more time to question the decision.
He was five minutes late.
It shouldn't be an issue. It isn't an issue. You tell yourself this every time the waiter comes over and asks if you are ready to order. Finally you break down and order a glass of wine. The orange wine you had written about in your article.
When the wine arrives its perfectly dry and funky, and not nearly enough to distract you from the pit in your stomach.
Simon was supposed to be on leave, but unlike Johnny there was nothing physically wrong with him and when their captain had called to ask for him to advise on a mission the alpha had jumped at the opportunity.
As you sit waiting, fighting the urge to refresh your texting app, you start to worry that something has gone wrong. Simon wouldn't have stood you up, rationally you know that, but what if something had happened on base? What if there was an accident? You might still be in the getting to know you phase of your courtship but you were certain that Simon would have at least texted you that he was running late.
You are so lost in your thoughts that you don't see the man approaching until he is right at your side.
He's pretty with dark skin, warm brown eyes, a carefully trimmed mustache, an easy smile that he flashes at you as he slides into the seat across from you. He's the kind of man that you would have fantasized about in your past life, the kind of man your eyes would have caught on but you would have never been brave enough to approach.
"That seats taken," you say, trying to sound firm.
"Simon sent me to tell you he won't be able to make it."
You can't help but frown. You don't recognize this man, he could be anyone, yet he claims to know Simon. Could he be lying?
You had de-scented before leaving the flat, had even put on those stick on scent blockers but neither could block out the smell of burnt sugar as your unease grew. If he really was a friend of Simon's he would be on military grade suppressants and while he wouldn't be able to pick up the exact notes of your scent he would be able to pickup on the change.
You get nothing from him but the space had been filling up, the tables all taken now as more people hovered around the bar shouting out their drink orders. It makes it harder to pick up individual scents.
The waiter, as if sensing that you were no longer alone materializes at the strangers side, grinning as he asks the stranger if he is ready to order, wrongly assuing your date has finally arrived
"He's notā" you start, but he interrupts you.
"Just a lager, mate, ta," he says with a smile. Once the waiter is out of earshot he says, "our secret. Technically I am still on the clock."
You don't return the smile he sends your way.
"How do I know you are who you say you are? You haven't even told me your name."
"Smart, you shouldn't trust random men. But I know your name." He leans forward, whispering your name before leaning back with a smug smile.
"Not good enough," you shoot back, taking a sip of your wine. "You could be some kind of stalker, or spy or something."
The man laughs now, the smile that accompanies it is less smug, less calculating.
"Aye, but would a spy have this?"
He pulls out his phone, flicking through his pictures until he finds one he likes and passes the phone across the table to you just as the waiter returns with his drink.
You instantly recognize your alphas. Johnny's hair is freshly shaved on the sides, his blue eyes bright and teeth flashing as he smiled at the camera. Simon is there too only the change between him in uniform and out seems far more drastic because his whole face is covered by a balaclava, but you recognize the slope of his shoulders, the honey brown of his eyes, and even the way he leans in towards Johnny like the Scot is the sun and Simon is merely a moon caught by his allure.
There are two other men you do not know. One is the man sat across from you, only in the picture his mustache is grown out into his scruff and a black ball cap is pulled down low on his head. Next to him is an older man who exudes alpha, even in this quick shot of him. He's broad, although not as tall as Simon, with a narrow waist and thick arms that are crossed over his chest. His mouth is turned down in a frown, a grown out beard on his face as well.
"This is from before the cap convinced the higher ups that we were meant to be a military pack. Kept splitting us up, those two were just heading out and we were just getting back. John wasn't too happy."
John was their captain, which meant the man across from you was Kyle.
"Does Simon wear the balaclava all the time?"
Kyle laughs, pulling the phone from your grasps and flipping through the photos again.
The next one is Simon and John, the two of them huddled together on a sagging sofa, neither in their fatigues. John is wearing a beanie that is pulled down to his thick brows, Simon has a plain black balaclava on, his head practically pressed into John's neck.
"John has a cabin we all go to sometimes, bit of a pain to get to but that is part of the allure."
You can't look away from how close they are, many alphas shy away from intimate touch with other alphas. Omegas sure, even sometimes betas, but alpha alpha pairings like Simon and Johnny aren't super common, but neither is this platonic companionship you get from just these two photos.
"You're all really close," you observe out loud, watching Kyle as he stows away the phone.
"Aye, could say that."
His face is shuttered now, no more smile, no more smugness.
"And you and John?"
"What about us?"
You aren't sure what you are asking. You were hoping he would offer something up while you tried to come up with what you actually wanted to know.
You have known enough omegas to know that the stereotype of them being protective over their alphas has merit. You have heard stories first hand of omegas casting off betas and even alphas when they weren't scent matched, or if they just didn't satisfy the omegas needs.
You had never considered what you would do in that scenario and now that you were scent matched you knew that the old you, the older you, the one from before the rejection, the one who dated casually, found heat partners on hookup apps, the one who went out with friends and had established yourself as this lifestyle officianado, would have felt something. Probably jealousy, envy, something instinctually predatory over a perceived challenge to your mates.
"I know that Simon and Johnny are scent matched, but they haven't told me everything about you and John. Are youā¦bonded?"
Kyle's laugh is strangled, you almost regret asking but he takes a long drink from his lager before giving you a genuine smile.
"You're curious if John and I are bonded, but not about our relationship with Simon and Johnny?"
You are curious about their relationship, you're very curious about the four of them. They have years of history, they probably have a bond stronger than most if they've worked together.
Could you really compete with that? Even if you are scent matched to two of them?
"I mean, I'm not not interested, I just don't want you to think I'm one of those territorial types."
Kyle laughs again, he clearly finds this whole evening very funny. "You might not be but there's no way Simon's not. I once saw him punch a marine for copin' a feel and those two idiots were even scent matched yet. Man had a nervy b when a secretary asked John if he was using a new beard oil. Doesn't matter the poor thing was asking for her mate."
Somehow you can picture it perfectly, this mysterious Captain, John, who you can't help but imagine as the most daddy of alphas if he deals with Johnny and Simon all the time.
"So you and John?"
"Aye, we're not bonded, not yet at least. I think he wants to, I do. I know it's not really traditional, yeah? An alpha-beta pairing? My family hasn't really accepted it yet, was hard enough for the lot of them when I told them I was joining the military."
"Johnny told me that he didn't really expect to find a mate, was it the same for you?"
Kyle sips his beer, brows furrowing as he thinks. It's hard to ignore how handsome he is, his dark skin, deep brown eyes, that easy confidence he exudes as he sits across from you. He's lean in a way that neither Johnny or Simon is, but there's a power behind it, a strength that betas aren't typically known for.
"Always a martyr that one. Although, I guess I was a bit of a dreamer when I enlisted, still thought I would meet a scent match, find an alpha. But I joined this team and that dream became just that, a dream. Something nice to think about when I'm sleeping in some shithole safehouse waiting for orders."
"Is it hard? The job? Am I allowed to ask that?"
"You can, and it is. I'm not going to lie to you, doesn't make sense to sugar coat it especially if you are going to be with those two. I mean, Soap's injury is the only reason that idiot was off his scent blockers long enough for you to match. If the job wasn't dangerous he wouldn't be limping around like a pirate."
You laugh, it's not far off of a description from the man you had been sharing a space with the last couple of weeks. Despite Simon's attempts to keep Johnny off his bad leg, he had been hobbling around the flat any chance he got. He had a tally tacked onto your fridge with a countdown to the day his doctor promised to unlock his brace so that Johnny could get some of his range of motion back.
Much to his chagrin he was still banned from having sex for a few more weeks.
"So what's it like living with those idiots?"
You find Kyle to be easy company, keeping you plied with wine and laughing as he tells stories about Johnny and Simon, Soap and Ghost as he calls them. You know that what he tells you about is watered down, sanitized versions of events, he doesn't tell you why the four of them were in a hut in Siberia during a blizzard but he does tell you about Johnny starting a fire without realizing the flue was damaged sending the 4 of them out into the blizzard while they tried to air out the "safehouse".
You had missed this, being out at a bar just existing. Kyle made you feel safe enough not to worry, not to be anxious over all of those little things that had kept you hiding in your apartment for months. It had been gradual, each little stab after that initial rejection that had picked away at you until you were a fraction of who you had been before.
You could see how cohabitation might be possible with him. It was not something you had even considered before Simon had brought it up and even after he had it was hard to consider the possibility of it working out as easily as he thought it would. How could you have known that the beta would be so amiable, so pretty as he made you promise that the beer was your little secret.
You felt flush with wine by the time you left, waving off Kyle as he offers to drive you home. It wasn't far, you could do with the walk to sober up. You were certain that Johnny would be miffed about you hanging out with his friend, he had already been put off that Simon was getting the first date when Johnny had known you longer.
"It was nice meeting you," you say, pulling Kyle into a hug. He smells faintly of body soap and gunpowder ā a scent you hadn't been able to identify before meeting Johnny and Simon, but had noticed lingering on some of their clothes.
He kisses your cheek, his lips warm, his hold on you grounding as you realize that perhaps you are more drunk than you had thought.
okay - after some brainstorming in the comments with Meep I have made a decision!
I am going to do a series of prompts where the prompt is something normal like "reader x Gaz, meet cute in a coffeeshop" but then i will randomly assign a monster/creature to the prompt and that is the challenge.
i'm not goign to commit to anything crazy like 31 posts in 31 days, but maybe like 5 ish? depending on how many monsters and ideas I come up with (totally open to suggestions)
The first rule of fandom is have fun. The second rule of fandom is find an enabler and become an enabler. Yes you should write that fic. What if it was even hornier? What if it was angstier? What if you wrote it just for me?
July 23 Update | Fanfiction Gifts for Donations to Indigenous Communities in Canada
Hello! We'd like to give you a brief update on donations and claimed commissions we've received to date!
We are happy to say that our wonderful donors have already raised over $200 CAD in just two days, which is incredible! We are so grateful and appreciative of what this community has been able to do in such a short period of time.
Prompts Claimed to Date:
Gaz x Reader - Wedding Night
141 x Reader - Kiss Cam
Ghost x Reader - Eldritch Horror
Price x Reader - Caretaker
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Please continue to reblog as well! Every bit helps.
survived the layoffs at my part time job today so I feel like I need to treat myself after being stressed all day but i have no money so i think i will have to settle with elios pizza and catching up on hotd
Hiiiii! For the WIP Guessing Game, the word is "Knife."
-dragonnarrative-writes
had to dig deep for this one, apparently I don't often use the word "knife". This is from a somewhat abandoned and fairly old roommate!ghost fic
The woman let out an exasperated huff, turning on Ghost, the knife still in her hand, other and on her hip.
āNope, stop right there mister.ā She said, brandishing the knife towards the masked man who glanced down at it for a moment before rolling his eyes and proceeding to remove items from the bag.Ā
