Chapters: 2/2
Fandom: Call of Duty (Video Games)
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Phillip Graves/Nikolai/John Price (Call of Duty)
Characters: John Price (Call of Duty), Nikolai (Call of Duty: Modern Warfare), Phillip Graves (Call of Duty), Simon "Ghost" Riley, Kyle "Gaz" Garrick, John "Soap" MacTavish
Additional Tags: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Background Relationships, Alpha Nikolai (Call of Duty: Modern Warfare), Omega John Price (Call of Duty), Threesome - M/M/M, Alpha Phillip Graves (Call of Duty), Established Relationship, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Phillip Graves the Disney Princess, Sub Phillip Graves (Call of Duty), Enemies to Lovers
Summary:
Price's heat suppressants choose the worst time to fail, putting him and Nik in a less-than-ideal situation. He supposes he'll have to make the best of it.
@cod-dump @el-viruss @worldseer and whomever else would like to see Nik and Price dealing with Graves in the most fun way :]
Sherlock glances at himself, the other self, bloody-nosed and still standing against the wall, looking at James like —
"I was there. I don't need to study what I did."
"Don't you?" James says, and Sherlock glares at him. This false James steps away, out of sight, ghosting around behind him until he can murmur in Sherlock's other ear: "What is it that you want, Sherlock?"
or, 4k of mind palace nonsense. And kissing, eventually.
Behold, my gift for the @nikprice-gift-exchange 2025 winter edition! I was tasked with gifting @imallergictomyself some nikprice goodness, and I am here to deliver! I went with the character study prompt (with a hint? a sprinkling? of internalized something idk if it's homophobia in this case....), and I hope this is something you'll enjoy.
Link to this story on Ao3 here!
John wasn’t even sure he knew what this fight was even about anymore. He wasn’t even sure it was still a fight, or that it had been one to begin with. But when two men with more military training than socialization tried to “talk something out,” it sounded an awful lot like an argument. It had started slowly, a quiet build-up of passive remarks from Nik when he’d come back to the flat after a month tangled up in the latest mission his group had completed. He’d been damn near chipper on the phone from the airbase after touching down, so clearly, the job had gone well. John had been grinning right along with him just listening to him after the limited contact during the time he’d been away.
Making dinner had seemed a nice surprise, in his mind. He knew how draining missions could be, even the wildly successful ones. He knew how much Nik had invested in his operators, in his work, in all he did, and that investment hardly stopped at time and money. Just like John, he cared about the work, and that could take its own toll. Besides, Nik had done the same for him time and time again. Countless nights, mostly just back on base in the shitty little kitchen there, making sure he had something hot on his plate when he needed it. Probably showing off at first, earlier in their relationship. Some confounded method to impress upon John that he was everything someone could want—not that John had needed much convincing in wanting, more in the taking and having. But those early days were a few years behind them now.
All of this in his mind, John could not for the life of him figure out why Nik seemed upset that he had started preparing a meal. They stood on opposite sides of the kitchen island, but they might as well have been across the fucking English Channel, considering the utter lack of understanding between them right now.
Half of dinner was halfway ready around John. A baking pan of chopped carrots, sprouts, and potatoes, all seasoned and oiled, was waiting to get into the pre-heated oven. A pair of steaks, likewise prepared, were ready to sear and join the veggies afterwards. Was it a terribly exciting meal? No, but considering a few months ago, John had been worried about burning anything that wasn’t just-add-water, he had been looking forward to the two of them enjoying the fruits of his labor.
“Nik, I don’t need supervision chopping vegetables!” he said sharply, gesturing to the vegetables.
“No, of course not,” Nik allowed, but it wasn’t convincing. He’d barely settled in since coming in the door a few minutes ago. His bag was by the door, but his shoes and jacket were still on.
“Then why on Earth would it have occurred to me to wait for you to get home to start cutting vegetables?” John asked, throwing his arms out to the side. He hated raising his voice with Nik, absolutely hated it, but the man was being completely obtuse.
“It’s not that long to wait!”
He exhaled through his nose, looking up to the ceiling for any clarity. He found none. “Look, I asked you on the phone if all this was good for dinner—” he said, once again gesturing to the food around him.
“It is good,” Nik cut in, a bit indignant perhaps. He knew that John knew what his favorite meals were, and this one ranked fairly high. There was still something shifty in his expression, though, and it was driving John absolutely mad.
“Oh, bloody fantastic, it’s good,” he responded with a bit too much sarcasm. “Then what th’ fuck’s the problem with it right now?” Nik’s mouth opened, but he couldn’t get any words out. “What, ‘s’it the wrong cut o’ meat, then?” John went on, struggling to keep his voice down, and only somewhat succeeding. “Y’want bloody purple carrots or some shit like that?”
“No, I don’t need purple carrots!” Nik rubbed his face roughly with one hand. “The food is fine, John—”
“Then what in the fuck’s got into you?” he demanded. “’M tryin’ to do somethin’ nice—”
“You didn’t need to start it before I got back,” Nik interrupted.
John barked a laugh that didn’t have much humor in it. “Oh, fuck me—Nik, that’s the nice part!”
Again, there was this shadow behind Nik’s expression, one John didn’t recognize. Something was eating at him, and for some absolutely asinine reason, the man wasn’t owning up to it. “Well, it does not need to be so nice,” he countered, folding his arms. It only made him look more petulant and poked the thorn deeper into John’s side.
He tried changing tactics. Clearly, that one wasn’t going anywhere. “Luv, ya look half-dead on your feet,” he said, managing to soften his voice a touch despite his frustration. “Ya really wanna fly across how many time zones, deal with god only knows how much paperwork to start debriefing, then drive all the way to this flat, and then worry about dinner?”
“Why not?” Nik’s voice was even sharper now.
“Hell d’you mean ‘why not?’” John wanted to know. “You wan’ that over kickin’ yer feet up on the couch—”
“Is not a crime if I do want!” he shot back before John could even finish his sentence. Now he looked properly pissed off, which was pissing John off, because he still didn’t know what the hell had pissed him off in the first place.
“’S not a crime if you don’t, either!”
“Da, well, I do want,” Nik said, his dark eyes flashing. “And you are keeping me out of the kitchen.”
What? How was John keeping him out of the kitchen? He had merely suggested Nik didn’t have to be in the kitchen, and suddenly he was keeping him out? “Not keepin’ you outta nowhere, fanks, ‘cause all I’m tryin’ to say is you look tired, had a long day, and I can deal wiv’ dinner for once. Been learning!” He brandished the tongs intended for the steaks.
“I’m not tired!” John blinked, momentarily silenced by the Russian yelled in his direction. Actually yelled, which almost never happened to him. In his silence, Nik went on, still in Russian. “I am not tired! I can come home and I can cook. I can cook in my fucking sleep! Long day? Long day—no, not so long I can’t sear a damn steak. No, I don’t need to put my feet up like some lazy fuck who lets his wife do all of the cooking because he cannot imagine being of actual use in a home.” He rubbed his eyes again—he really did look tired—and gestured to the prepped meal. “Will you just let me do this?”
Forget the English Channel between them; there was the entire Atlantic Ocean there. John stood there, still holding the tongs, and just gawked at him. It was a good thing the stove wasn’t on, because he didn’t want to explain to first responders that an argument this inane had started an oil fire. Eventually, his silent staring got to Nik, whose harsh expression started faltering the longer it went on.
He had to say something, though. Something.
“Uh.” Fucking brilliant. He set down the tongs and folded one arm across his chest, using the other hand to cup his chin. “Nikolai.” The man shifted, his brash, indignant confidence cracking. “What did you hear me say?” he asked, pulling it out of something Kate had told him months ago about a tiff with her wife. When Nik’s brows only furrowed, now out of confusion, he tried to explain. “When I said you looked tired, and that I could deal with dinner,” he said, all traces of anger gone from his voice, “what do you think I’m saying to you?”
Another moment of silence stretched, though this one felt less strenuous. Nik stared back at him for a moment, then dropped his gaze to the countertop and shoved his hands into his jacket pockets. After a moment there, he picked his head up again, and John caught a glint of shame flicker in his face before he spoke. “I want to take care of you,” he said plainly, back in English. “Now I feel like I cannot.”
John blinked at him. He glanced at the vegetables and the steaks and the tongs around him. He dropped his arms and started around the kitchen island towards his partner. “Nik…” he said. “You take better care of me than I do most days.”
One corner of Nik’s mouth twitched. “That bar is a bit low, though.”
“Yeah, awright,” he said, allowing a soft smile. “Did it never occur to you I might wanna return the favor every once in a while, luv?” Now that he was close enough, he reached for Nik’s chin, running his thumb over the silver and black in the short beard there.
Nik leaned into the touch, but there remained some hesitation in his face. “You don’t have to.”
“Didn’ say nuffin’ ‘bout having to, darlin’.”
He glanced sideways at the food set up around the stove, like there was still something telling him he should be over there. John wished he knew what to say to shut it up, whatever it was. It was a sweet notion, but not when he could see how much Nik needed to rest and recuperate. At length, Nik sighed, leaning heavier into John’s hand and closing his eyes. “I missed you.”
He smiled, feeling something bright and warm bubble up in his chest at the admission. He stepped closer and took Nik’s face in both hands now, running his thumbs over his cheekbones. So fucking handsome. There was still lingering awe that someone this bloody stunning had waited way too long just for him.
“Aye, missed ya too, Nik,” he murmured.
“I should not have yelled at you.”
He shook his head even though Nik’s eyes were still closed. “No, but I’ll forgive you. On a condition.”
Those dark eyes flicked open again. His hands moved from his pockets and slid into place around John’s waist. “Condition being…?” It sounded like he had his suspicions already.
John hummed, taking a moment to enjoy the warmth spreading from those big hands. “Condition being,” he said, “you actually go over ‘n’ sit on the couch with yer feet up while I make us dinner.” He watched Nik’s brows draw up and the corners of his mouth twitch down as he clearly resisted the urge to pout and complain about the condition. With a smile, he went on before he stopped resisting. “I know, I know, that’s askin’ a lot. Think of it like this: when I tell you you look tired and to let me handle dinner, I’m not callin’ ya useless, ‘m not callin’ ya a failure, an’ I’m definitely not callin’ ya a lazy fucker who can’t imagine being of any use around the house.”
The reminder of his own words made Nik wince slightly. “That was… a bit harsh.”
“Yeah, a bit,” John agreed. “An’ I’m not your wife. But I’m not sayin’ any o’ that, right? I’m sayin’ this is a place where you can jus’ exist an’ not worry about the little things, ‘cos I can help take care o’ the both of us, aye? I’m doin’ it ‘cos I love you, absurdly capable man that you are.” Unable to resist himself any longer, he leaned in to press his lips to Nik’s. The gesture was returned without hesitation, and Nik’s hands slid around his waist to his back to draw him closer.
It was a sweet kiss, unhurried, but clearly something Nik had missed while he was away. He’d missed it too, of course. When they parted, Nik kept their foreheads resting against the other and sighed quietly. “I will… try better. To be better. It’s… I do enjoy cooking for you,” he said apologetically.
“I know,” John said. “I like it too. ‘M not takin’ anythin’ away from you, learnin’ all this. ‘M givin’ you options, Nik.”
“Options…” he repeated. He lifted his head, once again looking over at the kitchen and the food laid out. There was still a pinch of conflict in his brow, but he dipped his chin faintly. “Do I have to sit on the couch?” he asked, turning up the puppy dog eyes as he looked back at John.
He chuckled, letting his hands slide down Nik’s jaw to his neck. “Awright, no, ya don’ have ta sit on the couch. But if you start backseat cooking, we’ll be ‘avin’ another chat.”
Student girl boards the bus, stands in line, puttering. Swipes her pass, waits around, step by step, along the aisle. The bus starts, people fall. Student girl stands, wavers, but balances. Traffic walls the streets, pedestrians scream. The careless bus keeps course, screeching halt. Her stop! Wow, just in time!
Student girl has a class. It's winter outside. It's cold, dark, and drab. Dawn breaks, a timezone away. The sun hasn't clocked in today. Student girl has to go, despite conditions. How brave plants are, she muses, passing under nakes trees. Sleeping all winter, can't even stay green for me
Student girl has lost the plot. Weeks roll up, work piles up, morale is down. But exams are on the horizon, she must find a solution. Student girl haunts the library, gets coffee, stays busy… and still doesn't study. Now the dreaded day, she shrugs, it's all common sense anyway.
His given words were: vein, power, matter, and cling.
None of them featured in the bits I've written over the past week, but it led me on a fun trip through older wips (and one published work because I ran out of wips and had to cheat a lil, shhh don't tell the tumblr cops). Have a nice random scattering of characters and AUs:
Vein
(Wayhaven, Keiji/Mason)
Keiji tenses, a groan torn from his throat as he struggles against Mason’s unrelenting grip. The cut throbs in time with his pulse and when Mason roughly drags his nails down its edge he yelps, then slumps back against the tree as the pressure finally eases. “Cruel,” he accuses breathlessly.
“You deserve worse.” Mason doesn’t break eye contact as he slowly licks Keiji’s blood off his fingertips, savouring every drop.
Keiji’s breath hisses out between his teeth and he jerks his arms forward again, straining against Mason’s grip to no avail. “You ever gonna make good on all that teasing?” His words break off into a shameless moan when Mason fits his thigh between his legs, the harsh friction a delicious relief. He’s painfully hard in his jeans but the ache only fans the fire in his veins, so he grinds down against Mason’s thigh and tips his head back, baring his throat. “Why settle for a taste when the real thing’s right here?” he drawls.
Power
(Wayhaven, Val/Felix)
“You two are…?” Nat asks.
They are sure Felix could power a lightbulb with the sheer force of his excitement. “Yep.”
“Finally,” Mason hisses from his newest dark corner, leaning against the side table behind them. “Now he can stop moping around whenever they’re not here.”
“Hey!” Felix turns to look at Mason with a pout, though he doesn’t take his hand off their thigh.
They take the opportunity to hide the hint of a smile behind their hand, though it doesn’t diminish any when he turns back to them with the same ridiculous pout.
“That’s not true,” he tries to reassure them still. As if he still has a reputation to protect for them.
“It isn’t?” they ask innocently. “That’s disappointing, I thought you missed me.”
His eyes widen and he opens his mouth to launch into a defence when he takes another look at them, and he squints. “That’s mean, Val.”
Matter
(JJK AU, Keiji/Sukuna mindbreak)
then sukuna submerges them both in the bath and the soulscape turns cloying and dark, the comforting shadows of keiji's own domain turned suffocating and dense. reaching into them feels like reaching into pure curse, raising the hairs on the back of his neck in a deep and instinctual fear he hasn't had to try and suppress in years. still, he grits his teeth and reaches out to it because he'll need his power to fight sukuna, and he is not so weak as to be intimidated by just this.
between one breath and the next, sukuna is there, in his soulscape (his domain?), and keiji doesn't even give him time to open his smug fucking mouth. the spear of shadow lands, he knows it did, he feels it, but sukuna just smirks and-- the sheer speed of him is just like that time at the detention center. he's gotten stronger since then, he has, but here and now it doesn't seem to matter. sukuna is fast and he is strong and when he does manage to land a hit on him it barely penetrates and doesn't even slow his stride, and… sukuna kills him. over, and over, and over. bisects him, cuts his throat, decapitates him. drowns him in his own shadows, once, and after that one there's. there's a lot more drowning, and suffocating.
Cling
(Jembax AU, Val-centric)
“A deft touch indeed,” Temperance echoes, wry amusement curling through her voice at the display.
The Collector pulls his hand back from between their thighs and wipes his fingers clean on the sheer fabric of their dress. It is an effort he doesn’t take much care with and when he finally accepts his whiskey from them he stains the glass, their scent clinging to his fingertips. From the deep breath he takes as he lifts the glass to his lips, it is a combination he savours. “One of these days you must show me how you do it,” he says after he has taken a sip.
Thanks again, this was a nice excuse to reread stuff~ Tagging @triquizzies and @heimdallwatchesyou so this can get lost in your inboxes, your words are: Blood, hand, gaze.
im gonna post my cute short work in progress epilogue about my dnd chararetr inspired by an offhand comment made by @sarosthewizarddude after I bought up my characters backstory and he said my two characters should kiss so here is a short story setting up their relationship, im ok with any sort of criticism and it has yet to be finished so here it is!
Faesira “faesy” lunarseeker and Castric “cas” hirinn scene
Cas walks into their old church tentatively, remembering the place they grew up, nothings changed scince they were a child except….. never mind. cas blocked the bad memeorys off and remembers the years spent with Faesy, but the memories were tainted. They make their way the Faesys chambers and knock “this is it” they think “you have come to make amends with her” they are tempted to turn and run but they stand their ground. They have done so much in their life how could they run now? The door opens and that famailr face appears in the doorway, her eyes were a deep almost red shade of brown and her skin was a deep shade of brown, her pointed ears adorned with piercings. She looks shocked and grabs cas by the shoulders and brings them into her room. “Why are you here Cas? What could’ve possessed you?” Her eyes are filled with tears “if you want to ruin my reputation I’d understand” Cas opens their mouth to speak but Faesy interrupts them “just tell me what you want from me!” “I wanted closure” Cas says softly “no you don’t! I can see it in you just tell me!” Faesy was sobbing now. “Faesy please just listen to me, please” she collapsed onto her bed and sat with her face in her hands “I regret it ok?! Is that what you wanted? An apology? Or did you want an excuse?!” Cas went and sat on the bed next to her and wrapped an arm around her shoulder “hey, I forgive you, being replaced is a horrible feeling, please just let me talk to you,” Faesy buried her face in Cas’ shoulder and sobbed, they both sat there for a while, time seemed to warp in those moments, Cas didn’t know how long it was. “Faesy I just wanted to see you. I…” Cas trailed off “I missed you” Faesys tear soaked face looked up at Cas “I missed ypu too Cas, no matter how much I resented you I think about you every single day, I wished things could’ve been different. I wished things hadent ended the way they had.”
Faesy laced her fingers through Cas’ and ran her fingers over their scaly knuckles. Cas spoke softly “it doesn’t have to have been the end.” Faesy looked up at them and spoke in a whisper “I stopped believing in what they taught me. The church lied to us I just don’t know what to do.” She chocked on a sob “I won’t have anywhere to go if I leave” she sighed “I know you left but that was because of me. But you’re different. I’m weak and all I have is here. I’m nothing compared to you.” Cas looked at her “you are the strongest person I’ve ever known, and if you really want to leave, I have a cabin, you can stay there while you restart your life but your welcome to stay for as long or as little as you like” cas smiled as they spoke and Faesy looked shocked “I, uh…… look, you must be exhausted from your trip here and I need to pack you can sleep in my bed if you want while I pack” so Cas lied down in her bed and drifted into a warm dreamless slumber.
Accessability link for those who can't read on dash
The man sitting next to you, absolutely cool as a freakin cucumber, is in no way at all what you were expecting. He’s tall and handsome, dressed stylishly, and young. Older than you are, but definitely younger than Deloch, for sure.
No, not at all the sort you’d expected to be meeting over some illicit library hook-up.
Now, Ibrryx? Sure, that guy would totally run a lending library of ancient rebel texts. This guy? No chance in hell, right?
He’s leaning back against the park bench, one arm thrown over the back, the other resting casually on his thigh, and looking at you sidelong through his shades. Studying you.
Cool. As a. Freakin’. Cucumber.
It’s almost a little unnerving really. Sure, you’re no stranger to this kind of meeting, but usually you’re on the other end. Doling out scrutiny with your siblings. You shift uncomfortably and fold your arms, which seems to prompt him to speak.
“So… you said you were looking to subscribe? You….. don’t look like much of a reader,” he pauses and tilts his head away from you, sizing you up. “Nevermind a researcher. And we don’t lend for thesis work, if you’re one of them college kids.”
Wow, okay, so he’s hot and rude.
You should be offended, but… No, he’s right. Still, you puff at him indignantly. “The subscription won’t be for me.”
Like it’s obvious. Well. It sort of is, if he’s asking like that right?
“It’s for my….” You trail off. You can’t call him your brother, though that’s what he is. Most trolls don’t have siblings like that, right? “Um, broodmate.”
There, that’s safe enough, right?
“Your broodmate,” his tone is flat, unimpressed. Geez, can this guy get any more difficult? Yes. obviously, of course.
“You know, typically,” the emphasis grates on your nerves. It’s almost condescending, but you don’t interrupt, “this meeting is meant for the intended patron. So that, you know, I can determine if they’re trustworthy or not, if it’s safe to move forward with them.”
He drums his fingers against the back of the bench. Agitated? He must think you’re wasting his time. “It doesn’t really do me any good if you’re fielding their interview.”
“Yeah well. Special circumstances. Someone had to interview you before you could interview him. He’s paranoid like that.” That’s not wholly true. This was your idea, though you cleared it with Xavier first, in case it was a bad idea. “Seems like you can relate.”
The blueblood pauses for a long moment, considering you, before finally laughing. “No, alright, that’s fair. Maybe I’m a bookworm’s honeytrap.”
“The same way I could be a librarian’s?”
“Yeah, exactly.” He leans his head back, looking up through the branches of the tree behind you, still drumming his fingers. “So where are we gonna go from here, then? If we’re both fielding for snakes?”
You hadn’t really considered that. “Oh, um… I guess we try to figure out the best tells for which of us is maybe evil and go from there?”
He laughs. It’s pleasant and warm, disarming. Caenos would like this guy, you think. “Alright, yeah that’s a good start. Maybe I should start with why you’re looking to subscribe your broodmate to a private lending library?”
“Oh well that’s easy. He’s a shut-in who spends all his time with computers, and he likes learning about history but there’s like a limit to what you can find when you don’t leave your house and the internet is awash with propaganda and misinformation campaigns, even for the technologically savvy.”
“Ah, true enough.” A satisfactory response, it seems.
You tilt your head. “If you’re so paranoid about lending, why do you lend out your less empire friendly books, and why do you let your patrons tell other people about them?”
He looks at you for a long moment, considering your question for a moment. “Because it’s important that people who’re looking for the truth are able to find it, I guess. Because it’s what the authors of the books and journals we share would have wanted.”
It’s a straightforward and honest answer. One you think your parents would like, so it’s good enough for you. Whether Keri will feel the same is debatable.
“Right, well. That’s fair. And um. True, also, I’m sure so. I’m glad you do that. And the other patrons?”
“Well, upkeep on a collection like this is a pretty costly endeavor, so. We don’t really have a choice but to take patrons. And we can’t exactly go advertising our collection on the internet, now can we? Word of mouth is all we have.” He sighs, like it pains him greatly to admit it, but shakes his head. “Besides, I think Jos would still have wanted to share some of this. It’s pretty cool at the end of the night, and people should be able to read some of it.”
“Yeah, that makes sense. So your boss is the bookworm then?” That makes more sense. This guy doesn’t look the type.
“Yeah, I’m just the delivery guy,” he laughs again, but you suspect that’s an understatement, given that he’s here checking you for suspicious activity. Not that it really matters.
“Well, someone’s gotta do it I guess. So, do I pass the sniff test?”
“You did better than most, though, obviously I’d still like to at least meet the man I’ll be sending Jos’s precious texts to.”
“Oh good luck with that. You can meet Xav, though, she’s uhhhh. his guard dog. Pretty much. She’d be collecting the whatevers for him anyhow.”
He tilts his head quizzically, but doesn’t object since he stays silent.
“If that’s um. Cool with you, we can set up another meeting with her? Afraid I’m not the only one you’ve gotta convince.” You look at him, a little sheepishly. You almost feel bad, he’s been cool and now you’ve gotta expose him to your scary older sister for final judgment.
A long pause, consideration. “Yeah, alright, I can handle that. Not tonight though, still got deliveries to make, yeah?”
“Yeah, no, that’s like, fair. I doubt Xav’s free right now anyway. We’ll be in touch then?”
“Sounds like a plan to me.” And then mister cool, calm, and collected leans down and pulls a motorcycle helmet out from under the bench and stands, tucking it under his arm. He has a bike. Freaking figures. How did he get involved in a library? “Be seein’ you round, then.”
You slump forward and huff as he stalks away. Boy, you’ve got a lot of work to do now. You pull out your phone and shoot Xav a text. Best get her updated as soon as possible, right?
