Your usual letters sent out to the few soldier penpals you have go out on Monday mornings without fail. It all goes without a hitch, nothing unusual, nothing in the routine on your end changing - until you get a letter back with handwriting you don’t recognize and you realize that your letter to Lieutenant Riley was delivered. Just not to the right one.
Or:
Reader has a hobby sending letters to soldiers overseas and sends out a letter to one of her usual penpals - a Lieutenant Riley.
But this time it's delivered to a Lt. S. Riley, not her usual Lt. C. Riley
Prologue, Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four Part Five Part Six
—
Your love language has always been gift giving. Either with small things found out while doing errands or cooking for people - giving something to someone you care about because it made you think of them makes something warm and pleasing curl up in your chest.
Signing up to be penpals for soldiers overseas is a no brainer. You remember doing it as a child in maybe kindergarten or first grade, just mostly small sentences written in what was probably crayon and whatever drawing you had finished that day in art class. You don’t remember if you ever got a reply but for some reason that experience always stuck with you.
Now as an adult with a strange magpie obsession with stationery and good pens - signing up seems like the perfect excuse to buy more stationery and pens while also getting the chance to give back to someone and possibly make their day a little more bearable. It means you can start collecting stickers and other small items to stick in your letters as well.
It’s nearing the end of summer when you finish writing a letter to one of your usual soldiers - a Lt. C. Riley - who you think is in Europe somewhere but don’t really know or care enough to ask because you know he won’t be able to tell you anyway. Letter finished and signed, folded up and placed in its matching envelope, you quickly place the correct stamps and addresses needed to make sure the letter gets to where it’s needed. It’s a Monday morning, so you're eager to get it sent off as soon as possible. You know it’ll be weeks before you hear any sort of reply from him, but it still makes a pleasant feeling just knowing it’s on its way and it’ll be at its destination soon.
Letter in the mailbox and on its way, you turn your thoughts now to your commute to work and think nothing more of the letter - trusting the universe to do its job.
—
It isn’t until nearly a month later when you get a letter with unfamiliar handwriting on the envelope that your mind goes back to the letter you sent weeks ago. It’s obviously from a soldier - a standard paper all military personnel seem to use is a dead give away - but it takes skimming over the letter with confusion that you realize what's happened.
Somewhere along the line someone read your handwriting as Lt. S. Riley instead of Lt. C. Riley. Oops. You’ll have to make another letter for C. Riley later you think, but right now this S. Riley has your attention despite the short one page letter.
Dear… M., I guess?
I’m not C. Riley. Unless something got switched and someone forgot to tell me. Honestly, it wouldn't surprise me at this point. Military competence at its finest.
Your letter landed on my desk. I don’t know how — The mailroom here is lawless, and envelopes go where they please. Usually it just disappears forever, so consider yourself lucky it found someone.
Since you asked for a ruling: Honeycrisps are absolutely the superior apple. Anyone who says they’re “too loud” is wrong. Loud apples are a sign of good character.
As for the sand: yes, it’s everywhere. In my boots, in my food, probably in my soul at this point. The new lieutenant hasn’t stopped yelling, but I think he’s slowing down from lack of hydration. Just a matter of time now.
Your neighbor probably is spying on you. At least it’s probably from boredom and not any vindictiveness. Old ladies have nothing better to do and they’ve achieved stealth levels that Special Forces can only dream of. Believe me, I’ve tried.
Strangest thing I’ve seen this month? A guy in my unit tried to heat his coffee by holding the cup over a lighter. I watched this happen. I let it happen. Sometimes you have to let nature take its course.
If you want me to try forwarding this to C. Riley, I will — but no promises. The mail gremlins are powerful and vindictive. But if you don’t mind writing to the wrong Riley for a bit… I wouldn’t say no to another letter.
— S. Riley
P.S. Salt is almost always necessary. Or at least better than nothing.
—
You need to pause a few times to laugh, but the anxiety of your letter being delivered to the wrong person eases as you read the last few sentences of his letter. You don’t mind at all writing back. As soon as you’re settled in at your desk for the night, you find yourself intentionally leaving S. Riley's reply for last, not wanting to let your over eagerness at a new friend show too much, even if it's just to just yourself. It’s not like he would know - only your dog is witness to your weird letter writing rituals anyway. But still.
You rewrite the letter to C. Riley - this time making sure to address the envelope as clearly as you can to ensure its proper arrival - and get started on a few other letters to your non-military penpals before you cave and start writing out a response to S. Riley. You find yourself taking much more care with your reply than you expect, until nearly two hours later it’s done to your satisfaction and you can carefully fold and address it. Once it’s sitting neat on your pile of outgoing mail you feel like you can finally relax fully, settling into your couch with some hot tea and a new episode from your current tv show. You try to tell yourself that you’ll wait for Monday to mail you letters like you always do - but you know now you won’t be able to wait and give up on the pretense that you won’t be taking the letter for S. Riley out first thing in the morning.
You do feel a little bad for the guy in his unit though - you hope he at least got some form of edible coffee out of it.
Reader who's shuffling towards their winter break, exhausted, malaised. The beginnings of a flu are catching in your throat, nose blocked up and head-heavy. Too overtired to notice the way things have been moving around your apartment
—scratches around the locks, food gone from the fridge, an extra cup sitting in the drying rack—
It's only when you finally reach Friday night, with the time and the promise of a lie-in on Saturday, that you start to feel a prickling on your neck. Shaking it off, you take a hot shower, steam furling and opening up your congested nose. Hot water spraying over your aching muscles—
—except
The shampoo is almost used up. The bathroom was already slightly damp when you got in.
When you reach for the towel, it's already wet. Hastily folded over the rack, and smelling like you but more—
The lights go out as you're staring at your stunned face in the steam-hazed mirror.
<- former chapter - AO3 link - this is the last chapter, sinners.<3
Call of duty. Explicit, 18+, minors do it interact. Read the tags. WC: 4.8k words (i think lol.)
MDNI MDNI MDNI READ THE TAGS
Tags: rape/non-con elements, dub-con, dog!hybrid!people being kept as pets, alternative universe - farm, dark, farmer!John Price, working dogs, punishments, mating cycles/ruts/heat (no omegaverse), the dove isn’t dead but its dying, it dies later on, reader is a brat, knotting, dog tails and ears, mentions of trauma, violence, angst, hurt/comfort, collars, rough sex, breeding kink, biting, threesome, foursome, everyone is fucking your honor, enemies to lovers in a fucked up way, chubby reader, reader has a pussy, pregnancy
Author Note: Phew OKAY, this was a beast to write, especially because I wanted to describe so much, but I can’t keep writing on it, lol. I have to allow myself to finish it. I will write more in this universe, I have plans of writing a fic following Valeria, heh. And i will most likely write one-shots here and there, but I also want to explore other ideas not in this universe, as i also have other fics i want to write lmao. I have never given birth to a kid (and i have no intention to), so take the whole uh pregnancy part with a pinch of salt. I kept a lot of it vague, sorry lmao. I am, however from a big family. So uh. Yeah. Also ngl, this fic took a much sweeter turn than i had planned, but oh well. It happens and i had a good time writing it. Thank you for all the support, it really means a lot to me, sweet sinners. Ily all, smooches for everyone.<3333
It was close to midday and usually the farm would be rather quiet by now, calm and content, animals at their places for the day. The sun was shining for once, the British weather hournering you with some warmth. It warmed the roof of the houses, the fur of the baby goats playing outside.
Peaceful, all around.
Or, well, almost… not inside the farm house.
You were angry. Not just angry, but mad, livid; you were growling and snapping at the pack members as they came closer to apologise, or at least attempt to - and then you would hide again in the crook of John’s armpit, whining as Farah and Alex tried to comfort you. John had to hold onto your jaw multiple times, just to make sure you would accidentally nip at Farah and Alex, Nikolai trying to herd the male hybrids a little more away, though they constantly refused.
They wanted to see the screen too.
Not just one pup - not two - no, you were having bloody four pups and you were almost even more upset about it than moving to the farm.
… almost.
You sniffled as you looked at the screen as Farah pointed so that you and the others could see the hearts and slowly growing pups inside you.
“You’re never gonna knot me again,” you angrily hissed at the male hybrids - Gaz had the decency to look apologetic, but the others didn’t. Soap was one big grin, Ghost was looking smug, filled with pride. Alex patted your head, saying it would be alright but you couldn’t see how.
Alex tried to explain that it wasn’t super uncommon for hybrids to have quadruplets, as your bodies were different from humans in many ways other than the visual ones, but you were already spiraling.
How the fuck were you even supposed to walk? You asked the male hybrids just that, though it was more of an accusation you supposed.
“Your bloody knots,” you growled, “I’m not gonna be able to walk!”
“Dinnae fash, lass, we will carry ye around,” Soap promised with a grin, tail wafting happily from side to side, only earning an angry growl from you, Price and Nik hushing you, holding onto your jaw again, trying to keep you still.
Farah and Alex help you clean the gel off, explaining what they need to make sure of, what food to avoid now and which vitamins to get you, especially when now carrying quadruplets - though it was possible one of them might disappear and get absorbed by the other fosters.
After the two vets left, you refused to talk to your pack mates, upset with the four pups currently inside of you - logically you knew it wasn’t their fault, but it sure felt like it was… yes you had initiated the mating yourself, but you hadn’t thought their sperm would knock you up like this. You stayed on the couch, leaned against the corner, nipping at the other hybrids as they tried getting closer.
Though both of your owners chastised you and the men apologized for something that essentially wasn’t their fault, you remained upset for a good thirty minutes.
It wasn’t until you owners tried giving Gaz one of your favorite snacks, the hybrid slowly crawling towards you on all fours, looking up at you at the couch, tail carefully wagging. Keeping his body language all submissive, letting out a whine as he got close to you. Finally you gave in with a grumble, leaning down and snatching the snack from his mouth and then he was on you, cuddling you and nuzzling him. The others joined him soon, Price sending you a happy smile as he looked from the kitchen.
You still grumbled a little when their licking became too much but you were melting into their touches.
✨✨✨✨
It was breakfast, a little week later, that Price and Nikolai came with the suggestion; a bigger place for all of them, either inside the house or as an expansion to it, so you could all be closer. They would keep the old shed so the boys could still have a place to Power Nap during work.
It was a suggestion, an offer - they didn’t demand it, actually asked you about it and you felt a certain pride from the fact.
Whatever the chaos that you had created had done to the two men, it had helped. You had slid to your knees afterwards, crawling to your owner, looking up at Price as you sucked him off - to your surprise but delight, Gaz joined you, licking at Price’s cock as well, stealing kisses from you, licking the cum from your mouth afterwards. John praised you both, scratching you beneath your chins - you hadn’t realised that Soap had gone to Nik before looking over, the Russian stroking his cock, Soap almost shyly sitting in front of him, his own bulge hard, as he had his mouth open, tongue out.
Nik mostly hit his tongue, you licked the couple of drops of cum which had missed from his skin. Gaz had crawled beneath the temple to Ghost instead, letting the bigger hybrid fuck his mouth. While John and Nik cleaned off the table, Soap fucked you beneath it, making the plates and cutlery shake rhythmically, Nik chastiseing you now and again until you both finished
As you laid beneath it, soaking in the pleased feeling of the orgasm, Soap knotted to you - much to your annoyance, since it hadn’t taken you long to let them do that to you again - you found yourself hoping this would continue, all of you getting along with each other.
✨✨✨✨
It was a couple of days later that you had made your decision together with your pack, that the four of you went to Price, telling what you all wanted.
You didn’t think too much of it then, switching between sleeping at the shed with the others and then inside - when it was too cold, Gaz usually made you get inside, worried you would freeze.
It was almost a week later when Price and Nik appeared with some plans for the extension, when you were all eating lunch. It would be an extension of the main farmhouse, with a door directly into it, so that it would be easier for everyone to come and go. It was much bigger than the shed, almost a tiny house of itself, Price sweetly kissing your forehead and telling you that he wanted you to have enough space for all the pups without struggling - making your tail wag so hard it almost hurt, licking and kissing his cheek with a happy whine.
✨✨✨✨
At first you almost felt like the promise of quadruplets had been a lie - your stomach didn’t seem to change that much and though your tits felt a little sore, it felt, well… Normal.
That didn’t last though. As soon as you hit month three, it hit with full speed - your stomach grew and so did your hunger at a speed you had never experienced before.
You raided the entire kitchen not even trying to hide the mess when your masters came for lunch, sitting on the floor, inhaling chocolate together with some leftovers from the day before, ready to attack a chicken foot afterwards, to really finish off with.
You didn’t get the opportunity to, though - you knew that, just from the mere sight of John with his furrowed brow and from Nik’s amused grin.
John spanked you and you spread your legs afterwards, whining for him to fuck you - he did, careful with your growing stomach, cooing about how you should just ask and he would give you everything you wanted.
That there was no need to make a mess in the kitchen, leaving cans of beans and tomatoes all over the floor, a turned over bag of flour abandoned, having fallen from one of the shelves as you tried to grab the sugar next to it.
”Can’t have you crawling on the tables, mama,” he cooed, kissing one of your burning cheeks, swiping a finger over some of his cum dripping from your puffy pussy, “Can’t have you fall down, no?”
The rest of the pack came to eat not long afterwards, the kitchen still a mess, you sitting on the couch in the living room, shyly wagging your tail at them, while you gnawed at a piece of Nik’s jerky, which he had kindly sneaked and given you, only stopping to take a bite of a cucumber now and again.
Food forgotten for a moment, your three mates were on you, licking and cooing, keeping their voices low as they promised to help you next time you wanted to raid the kitchen. Soap licked your cunt, insisting on ‘cleaning you off’, while Gaz and Ghost peppered your tits and stomach with kisses.
✨✨✨✨✨✨
Your belly was swollen, lots of stretch marks having joined your already existing ones - you had already had morning sickness for a month, but it seemed to be over once more. You felt hormonal, tired and big. It was carrying around three dumbbells all the time, your back screaming half the time. Your tits grew too, which Gaz and Soap in particular, seemed fond of.
Ghost however, learned to stand behind you, big arms curling around you and carefully holding on beneath your stomach, letting you feel a moment of relief as he carried the weight of the pups.
Alex and Farah came by on the regular, checking your vitals and everything. Everything seemed to be going as it should - even the aggressive moments you were beginning to have, where you didn’t want anyone to touch your belly was apparently normal, as you got closer and closer to your due date.
One month left. It was normal to have those instincts, wanting to make sure the pups were in a safe environment when born.
Speaking of that - that became a discussion.
”It’s too big a risk, sweetheart,” John pleaded softly with you and you turned your head away, letting out a dramatic huff. Your arms were crossed, refusing to look at any of them.
”I’m giving birth here,” you demanded, still not looking at them, “Or I’m not giving birth at all.”
You knew for a fact that it didn’t work that way, you couldn’t just refuse to give birth to the four babies currently making your stomach swell up like a giant balloon.
”you’re literally gonna give birth to four kids,” Gaz pointed out, arms crossed too, looking just as stubborn as you, “what if something happens?”
“I wanna give birth here,” you replied once more, “I don’t want to go to some sterile place.”
”Daisy,” Farah’s voice was gentle, “We just don’t want anything to happen to your pups.”
You let out a little sad sound.
”I’m not a bad mom,” you answered with a whine, arms uncrossing to hold onto your stomach, “I’m not.”
”Nobody said that,” Farah said, leaning forward to gently pat your head, “and it’s okay to be scared - you’ve never tried it before and we know it’s not gonna be easy.”
You bit your bottom lip, another sad sound. Soap carefully snuggled against you on the couch, pressing his nose against your neck.
”There are nesting rooms at the hybrid hospital,” Alex added, “you can bring everything you want in there a week before the due date, make it feel right, yeah? We will let you go yourself as long as you want and help you if necessary.”
You could feel one of the pups kick at your ribs, making you wince for a moment, curling your fingers against the stomach a little more.
“Okay,” you finally whispered, “But I want to decide what we bring.”
✨✨✨✨
You had brought a lot of blankets to the hybrid hospital, but a lot of clothes as well — not all your own. In fact, most of them weren’t your own. Nikolai had let out a pained sound as you had grabbed his leather jacket and you had shot him such a nasty look that you almost regretted it. You could see the pack behind him tensing up as well, as if ready to hold Nik so that you could steal it.
”Fine, lapochka,” he finally grumbled, grabbing one of John’s coats to wear instead, “But I want it back afterwards.”
You arrived a week before, getting used to the facility and getting your nest ready. John and Nik switched between being there, going home to help at the ranch and then switching - Ghost, Gaz and Soap all stayed with you, the mere mention of them leaving making you growl the loudest.
It was on the fourth day into your stay that your water broke, making you and all the hybrids panic for a short moment. Farah and Alex arrived shortly after, as well as a specialist who had helped with a lot of hybrid births, when there were more than 3 pups at once. Said specialist seemed nice enough but it took a couple of hours before you got used to her - John almost muzzling Soap and Ghost from how they growled at her at first.
Despite all of your fears and the exhausting and stressful experience it was to give birth to four babies, it didn’t matter once they were all on your chest. Tiny and perfect, unable to open their eyes and letting out small coos to make sure you were there.
Fat little bastards laying on your chest, finally no longer in your stomach, all declared healthy.
The specialist, Farah and Alex made sure all of them were alright and that you were doing fine. You had gotten stitches and fluids but otherwise you were good.
You were enamored, watching their tiny ears and tails, their tiny fingers and barely there claws pawing at you, hungry for touch and food.
You didn’t let John nor Nikolai hold them at first, but they didn’t seem mad about it.
Gaz, Soap and Ghost on the other hand were allowed to - in a way, it almost looked comical to you. They held them as you got cleaned up a little, exhausted but not wanting to miss a moment.
The male hybrids that you had hated for the first while, all seemed like lap dogs themselves; they were all so big in their own ways and the pups were tiny, so careful that it might as well have been delicate porcelain they held onto. Ghost’s big hands almost seemed to swallow one of the pups.
Two girls, two boys. Perfect. All of them.
You stayed at the hospital, making sure everything was alright. They got the shots they needed, the chips that were required by law, so that they were a part of the system.
It was three days later that you finally offered John to hold one of your boys, shyly offering it to him with a whine, your tail wagging against the temporary nest.
You pretended to not see the tears in his eyes, Nikolai leaned over his shoulder, looking with awe at them himself, whispering something you couldn’t understand.
It was the day after that you were finally up and walking again, wanting to go home.
✨✨✨✨
You were inside with them for the first month, your working dogs looking after you in shifts - while John and Nikolai looked after you all the time.
It wasn’t easy, especially not at first.
Cries that kept most of you awake at night, their never ending hunger and your sudden role not just as a mother to a single pup but to four. It was dirty diapers and stressful moments, it was tears rolling down your cheeks as you felt helpless despite the pack being there. It was fear of the future, of whether you did everything as well as you should.
It was late night kisses as Ghost, Gaz or Soap comforted you; on your lips, cheeks, nose and against your temple. Whispering your actual name in moments shared in secrets.
✨✨✨✨
In a way they grew up too fast. One moment they were barely able to crawl and the next you were running after a delighted toddler in a diaper, escaping from bath time, leaving Soap and John behind in the bathroom to wash the others after a day outside.
“Alice!” You yipped, the tiny child just screaming with delight, ducking under the table to escape, tail wagging so quickly it hit chair legs on the way. She made it to the hallway, almost at the door, when Nikolai appeared from the stairs, swooping her up, Alice letting out an annoyed howl at her capture.
“Not behaving today , eh?” He asked, the baby squealing as he tickled her tummy before handing back your pup, “escaping the bath again?”
“It’s like she knows just when to bolt,” you agreed, frowning at your pup who looked up at you with Soap’s eyes, Gaz’s hair and skin tone but Ghost’s facial features. Long, pointy and fluffy ears that might raise when she got older, might not, too much of a mixed breed for any of you to know.
She clapped her dirty hands against your cheeks and you huffed at her, before carrying her back to the bathroom where she let out excited barks at the sight of her siblings.
They all looked different, yet somehow the same. Sharing yours or the men’s features in different ways. Alice, Henry, Oscar and Florence. Some of them had your nose, some of them had Gaz’ hair, some Ghost’s freckles, and some of them had Soap’s chin.
They grew quickly — too quickly for you to almost follow along, the extension to the house filled to the brim and once more expanded. As soon as they had learned to walk and crawl up on things, it became even more crazy, especially as they ran off to hide in the stalls, meeting the goats and some of the barn cats.
Once, Florence disappeared into the corn fields that you had once ran into to escape the men - it seemed so long ago and despite time having passed and knowing that Valeria had found a mate of her own, a stray that she had thrown her love onto, all of you were still territorial.
Nothing happened however. It only took five minutes before a slightly grumpy looking Valeria appeared, holding Florence in her arms, your daughter tugging on one of the other hybrid’s ears, as if Valeria wasn’t scary one bit.
”Sorry, Valeria,” you said as she gave you Florence over the fence, the other letting out a little grumble.
”’s okay,” she said - and you didn’t comment on how her tail wagged a little as she walked away.
✨✨✨✨
It was five years after the quadruplets birth, that you got pregnant once more, ready to castrate your pack members yourself, making Soap, Ghost and Gaz sleep out in the shed, while you took your pups to sleep in John’s and Nik’s bed, all of you barely fitting in there.
It had truly been an accident this time - you hadn’t even been in heat. Nik seemed amused, as the asshole did with everything, while John seemed a little more frustrated, yet confused over how the fuck you and the others hybrids had even managed to knock you up.
And it was fucking twins.
It took three days before you let your working dogs back into the little house you had, all the pups delighted, while Soap, Ghost and Gaz all kissed you and licked you so you smelled like more of them.
Despite your anger, you had liked the amazement on the quadruplets’ faces once they felt the twins kick inside your stomach for the first time, Ghost sniffling with delight, while Gaz and Soap were wagging so hard you were afraid it would hit one of the pups and tumble them to the ground.
Laswell took care of the pups while you gave birth - the woman might not fully admit to it, but you knew she had a very soft spot for them. Spoiling them the two days before she took them to meet their new siblings at the hospital.
Once more Nik had to give up his leather jacket, muttering about how it was hard to get it clean last time.
After giving birth and healing, you demanded to get your tubes tied and after several talks, psychologist and doctor visits, John let you have the procedure.
Though Ghost, Soap and Gaz weren't too happy about the idea at first, they were also not denying that six kids was enough - more than enough. Hadn’t you been a pack of four, you weren’t sure you would have been able to handle it. Ghost shyly admitted one late evening that it was a lot of his hybrid instincts that held him back, the forever present idea of breeding you that made him sceptical. But he still supported you, together with the others.
There was indeed enough trouble as it was with all the pups. Alice, Florence, Oscar and Henry were already growing into kids having their own opinions, needing to try out boundaries and figure out what they liked and didn’t like. They didn’t quite understand that Leo and Sophie was too young to play with them at first.
They grew up with more love than you had experienced in your own childhood, freed from the forced training of becoming the perfect lapdog. They weren’t hit or spanked, the only fights they got into were play fights or fights with each other that their parents or owners were always quick to break up.
Nobody told any of them off for following their instincts, as you had experienced — nobody declawed them or filed down their fangs like it had been done to you. They weren’t punished for barking. You didn’t need to be a genius to know that a lot of the overprotectiveness from the men also came from the lack of their own parents’ being unable to be there for them throughout their childhood.
They socialised with humans a lot, John finding a daycare for them as they grew older, as well as a school for hybrids later on. It made both Ghost and Gaz bawl their eyes off the first day they left for school, never having been able to do that themselves.
Snuggling with both John and Nik at the couch but stubbornly refusing to admit so.
✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨
They were in their early twenties when the first of them left.
It was Henry who left first, after a couple of people had come to meet the young hybrids and he had gotten along with a couple, who had kids on their own. They also had an older hybrid, whom he took a liking to.
John - and not to mention, you and your mates - didn’t let him go easily. It took three months of visits, paperwork and Henry visiting the new owners at a week at a time, before it was the young hybrid himself who put his foot down. He wanted to go and finally you felt peace with letting him do so, kissing him all over when he packed his last stuff, leaving with his new owners, waving from the car.
He wasn’t going far, only an one-hour drive away but still. All of you pretended not to cry afterwards. Leo and Sophia, your youngest pups were inconsolable the first two days, the teenage pups not quite understanding fully where their brother was going.
Florence was the next to leave - she had more herding instincts than any of the others, often happily following Soap around when herding the sheep or goats. It had started with her herding the chicken at a young age and as the years passed, she had grown to love it.
So when a farmer came by together with his family - it was almost a perfect fit from the moment they saw each other. It was a big family, with three generations living on the farms, together with three other hybrids already helping. But they were expanding and were getting more sheep - so another hybrid was needed, even though they had actual dogs as well.
The procedure was the same as with Henry though Florence put her foot down a little earlier than his brother, wanting to move to her new owners now.
Two-hour drive, but with the promise of regular visits, you let another of your adult pups leave the nest, four pups left.
Oscar was the third - and if you were honest, he was one of your pups that you had been most nervous about, since he seemed more sensitive. He wasn’t into herding like Florence and didn’t have the same outgoing energy as Henry did. He liked comforting others but he sometimes seemed to get uncomfortable when there were too many people together.
But when a young lesbian couple came to meet him, you knew that he was going to be alright. Even after the first time, it was clear that he had taken a liking to the two women, especially one of the women, who was soft-spoken and had anxiety.
The papers were drawn up a month after, as Oscar also went to take a one-year course to become a registered service hybrid, to help one of his new owners to get more comfortable.
Another two-hour drive, but the women had family in the area, so they would be around often.
Alice was the fourth of them, not having vibed with two applicants, turning twenty-three not too long after meeting the couple she decided to join. They lived in one of the bigger cities, a three-hour drive, but they fit so well together that you couldn’t make yourself feel bad about it.
She was a snuggle bug and much more of a stereotypical lapdog than any of her siblings, so the couple seemed right. They had a kid that she seemed to bond with pretty quickly as well.
You felt old sometimes, seeing your pups growing up - it was as if twenty years had passed by so quickly that you barely noticed it. There were grey speckles of hair in Nikolai’s hair, John’s beard almost grey by now, making the man grumble about feeling like a grandpa sometimes. Sometimes you wondered if they had wanted kids of their own. If they had wanted someone to throw their love onto, just like you, Ghost, Gaz and Soap had had. Yet, they seemed happy at the same time, having been nothing but loving towards your pups throughout their life from birth to young adults.
Leo and Sophia also left in their twenties.
Sophia had tried with a few different people before she met the right one - almost having given up on the idea of finding her own owner, bawling her eyes out, feeling like a failure.
That was until she met a lady a couple years older than herself. She was blind and already had a blind dog, but needed more help in her daily life - as well as more company. She would visit her brother often, who also had hybrids, so Sophia wouldn’t be fully cut off from hybrid company. Sophia excelled in her training as a guide hybrid and passed with flying colors, happily leaving together with her owner with signed papers and a heartfelt goodbye from everyone.
Leo left not too long after - they had run into one of Nikolai and John’s old friends and the hybrid had been smitten ever since, the almost mute man having found comfort in the hybrid despite only meeting for a couple of hours. Just like all the others, they went through a trial period, because while you believed in Nikolai and John when they said that he was a good man, you wanted to make sure that Leo didn’t rush into the situation.
✨✨✨✨
At last, it was John, Nikolai, Ghost, Soap, Gaz and you back at the farm that you had declared your worst enemy over two decades ago. You didn’t hate to admit that you liked the place now, even if you never got into running through muddy fields or guarding livestock. You didn’t miss the city any more - at least not in the way that you used to.
The first month that you had all been alone, you all fucked like rabbits, all of you happy to have sex with the others by now. You all calmed down after that, having gotten most of it out of your system, though you were happy to not having to worry about pups walking in on you being pounded by one of their dads or their dads fucking the throats of John or Nik.
It was odd too. You grew older, all of you did.
In many ways life felt like it always had, in other ways, it seemed so different. You felt happy, a lapdog living her best life at a farm.
Hi spring! I really love your 141 baby fics, especially the soap ones. for your autumn challnege can you write reader telling soap that she is pregnant ? pretty please🥺
𝐀 𝐒𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐒𝐮𝐫𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐞 ♡
John "Soap" MacTavish x reader || Main Masterlist || Spotify
summary: After a month apart, you can finally tell Johnny the secret you've waited to reveal.
word count: 1.3k
𝐎𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐞: 𝐃𝐚𝐲 𝟏𝟖) 𝐅𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐲 𝐄𝐱𝐩𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧
You lie curled up in the soft warmth of your blankets, the gentle autumn sunlight streaming through the curtains. You dwell in the faint sound of breathing beside you—steady and deep. It’s calm and comforting, a sound you have missed so much. Johnny had returned home last night after a month-long deployment, and you still can’t quite believe he’s finally back, in your cosy little bedroom, right here next to you.
As the dim light dances across his face, you take a moment to admire him. The shadow of his stubbles outlines his strong jaw, and you can’t help but trace the line with your fingers, careful not to wake him. His features have softened in slumber, though even in sleep, there’s a distinct aura of strength about him. A sense of joy swells in your heart, and you lean closer, resting your head on his shoulder, inhaling the familiar scent of him—warmth mixed with a hint of clean soap and something uniquely Johnny.
But despite the content, happiness blooming within you, your mind is racing with thoughts you can hardly contain. A life altering revelation you’ve kept for weeks, a hidden truth that has grown heavier with each passing day. You can almost feel it pulsing beneath the surface, begging for release.
You have spent countless nights these past weeks imagining what it would be like to share the news with him, but now that the moment is finally here, your heart races. You can hardly believe that just two weeks ago, you had taken that little white stick from the chemist, waited under anxious breaths for it to change, and when those two lines appeared—joy flooded through you like a tidal wave. You are pregnant.
As you listen to Johnny’s rhythmic breathing, you bite your lip, torn between letting him sleep peacefully and the burning desire to spill your secret, to share this monumental news that will forever change both of your lives. You know how much he wants this, and the thought of his reaction fills you with excitement and nerves in equal measure. In this moment you regret not having told him last night, but you didn’t want to overwhelm him right after he’d come back home, to give him a chance to reacclimate and enjoy the sweetness of being back home, yet the weight of the truth feels unbearable under the tenderness of this moment.
You carefully push yourself up onto one elbow, leaning in closer to him. You brush a strand of hair from his forehead and plant a gentle kiss there, hoping to rouse him from his dreams. His eyes flutter open, their deep blue locking onto yours. There’s a short moment of groggy confusion, followed by blissful clarity, a slow smile breaking across his face as he takes in your tender gaze. He pulls you closer in his embrace, almost instinctive, as if anchoring both of you in this fleeting moment.
“Hey,” he murmurs, his deep voice thick with sleep. There’s an undeniable warmth in his gaze, the way the blue of his eyes brightens as they sweep over your face.
“Hey,” you reply, your heart racing as you lean in to plant a gentle kiss on his lips. “Welcome home,” you whisper into his mouth before pulling back.
“God, I missed you,” Johnny breathes, his voice still husky with sleep. He pulls away just enough to look into your eyes. You can see him trying to read the emotions swirling in your gaze, and it makes the weight of your secret even heavier.
“I missed you too,” you say softly, brushing your fingers along his jawline again, wanting to memorise every minute detail of his face after being apart.
“Did I really sleep through the night with you next to me?”
You chuckle softly, nodding. “Yeah, you did. I think you were pretty tired.”
Johnny stretches, his muscles taut under your fingertips. He sighs contentedly and shifts his weight, propping himself up on one elbow to look at you more closely. You can see in his eyes that he has noticed the tension beneath your calm demeanour. The way he studies you makes your heartbeat quicken; his gaze is unwavering, filled with a mix of love and curiosity. “What’s going on in that bonnie head of yours?” he asks, his brow slightly furrowing with a mix of curiosity and concern as he studies your expression.
You chew your lip, the moment of truth dawning on you like the sunlight spilling into the room. “I have something important to tell you,” you say, your voice steady despite the thud of your heart.
He tilts his head, eyes glinting with curiosity and apprehension. “You’re scaring me a little now,” he admits, a playful smile curling at the corners of his mouth. “You know I’d take on the world to protect you, right?”
The sincerity in his tone makes your resolve strengthen, and you smile softly back at him. “I know, and that’s why I’m so excited to tell you.” You take a deep breath, steeling yourself, and let your hand cradle the side of his face for assurance. “I’m pregnant.”
The words hang in the air, swirling around you like a gentle breeze, and for a moment, silence envelops you both. You watch as his expression shifts from surprise to a grin that splits his face wide open, his eyes sparkling with an emotion you can barely decipher.
“Are you serious?” he breathes, almost as though he’s afraid to believe it.
You nod, biting your lip to suppress your own excitement. “I took a test two weeks ago… and then a few more after that to be sure. I wanted to wait to tell you in person.”
He sits up fully now, something electric weaving through his features. “Really?”
“Really,” you confirm, your voice steady and filled with warmth as you find your grounding in the gravity of the moment.
In an instant, the surprise morphs into pure elation. Johnny’s smile widens, his eyes shimmering with light, and he lets out a breathy laugh that resonates through the space between you, bright and rich, a sound filled with joy and disbelief all at once. “Love, you’re really serious?!” His hands find your waist, pulling you closer as he inspects your face for any sign of jest. The sincerity in your eyes reassures him that this is no joke. “I cannae believe it! This is—this is pure brilliant! He wraps his strong arms around you, lifting you off the bed, making you squeal with a mix of surprise and joy, and spins you around in a joyous whirl, as you laugh along with him, both of you lost in the sheer magic of the moment.
When he finally sets you back down, he holds you tightly, his face buried in your neck, and you can feel the tremor of his excitement in the way he hugs you.
“We’re having a wean,” he breathes, and there’s an awe in his voice that sends shivers down your spine. You can hear how much this means to him, to you both, and it ignites a fire of hope and dreams that you carefully begin to weave together with him.
“We are,” you reply softly, a smile breaking across your face as his words wash over you like a soothing balm. You can feel the warmth radiating off him, and everything beyond your embrace fades into oblivion. “I know we have talked about it, but I never imagined it would happen so soon,” you admit.
Johnny pulls back just enough to meet your gaze, his eyes alight with wonder. “Do you know how far along you are?” he asks, a mix of concern and excitement lacing his tone.
“About seven or eight weeks,” you reply, the reality of the timeline settling in, although it feels strangely surreal. “I was going to schedule an appointment for that first ultrasound, but I wanted to wait till you got home.”
A blend of awe and protectiveness washes over Johnny’s face as he absorbs the news. “Aye, we’ll make the appointments together, figure everything out. You, me, and our wee one.”
imagine if word gets around that Crook is getting too friendly with the 141, the men have taken it upon themselves to make sure your reputation doesn't get affected
when in reality they just fuck it up themselves. Tremendously.
Warning: Brief mentions of blood, jeopardizing rumors, angst with no comfort, very very very very much incorrect writing of how kitchens work on bases
ALSO: if you don't like how I format this series bro, just go away, you don't have to tell me lmao.
Dividers by: @cafekitsune
COD masterlist
Cook!reader Masterlist
✦ So like just imagine that unbeknownst to you, something's changed within the base. Of course, you wouldn't see it right away, you're in the kitchen every hour of the day.
✦ But little things start to catch your eye.
✦ The way a group of new soldiers tend to watch you when you interact with Gaz. The scoff that escapes one of the rookies after you assure Ghost there are still rolls they are just not ready. The sigh escapes another soldier right when Soap tries to make conversation.
✦ You don't mention anything about it. Mostly because what are you gonna do about it?
✦ You're the one making their food after all.
✦ But then the week's chore schedules come out. And you're irritated as fuck.
✦ Because why the hell is Sevan and Jason being pulled out of their shifts?
✦ You need Sevan for the lunch rush. And you need Jason desperately for the breakfast rush too. On top of that, Lottie isn't even in the kitchen with you for some fucking reason. She's not even a soldier.
✦ The only ones that stay put are Marco and Paul, who are just employees.
✦ So naturally you take it to Ms. Copper.
✦ "Hey so is there something wrong with the schedule? My crew isn't where I need them to be."
✦ Ms. Copper raises her brow, tilting her head in confusion.
✦ "There shouldn't be a change, Crook. Let me take a look."
✦ So she sees the same thing you do and with her own authority just simply changes it back! Easy.
✦ Until You notice Price’s heated gaze on Jason as he laughs about something Paul said to him out the window and switches the trays of food the next morning.
✦ Until you see Simon silently staring across the way to Sevan helping the dishwashers, collecting dirty plates and utensils.
✦ Dinner was fine until you were getting ready for clean up and Price came marching in. "And just where the bloody hell were you two muppets this morning."
✦ You were shocked at his volume, his pointed glare, even his tense posture. He looked like a Captain alright.
✦ "What's happenin' here?"
✦ Price’s arms are crossed, as his glare gets transferred to you. "These two were here playing kitchenmaid when they were meant to be at training."
✦ "Yeah I know, I had the schedule switched when it came out. I thought you got the update." You respond, looking back at Jason and Sevan as they joined just to catch Marco before the trio left for the night. “Both of you weren't working the dinner shift so-”
✦ “We were at training,” Jason explains. “We just weren’t meant to be with the morning team.”
✦ Sevan only nods, but the two look almost fearful. You can imagine what their punishment is for skipping training of all things.
✦ Price looks deep in thought before he blinks and waves his hand off. “Carry on then.” Is all he states before he turns to leave.
✦ You hear the two soldiers sigh in relief when he leaves but dammit. What was the point of all that?
✦ When your crew finishes with clean up, and you’ve removed your uniform into your civilian clothes, you head out to find Price.
✦ Passing other soldiers you miss their small glances, the small whispers behind your back. How could you focus on them? After all you had one thing on your mind and besides, you figured the soldiers liked you at least. No way they would turn around and talk about you like that right?
✦ A gruff ‘come in’ brings you to poke your head through the now-opened door. You see Price sitting down with Ghost looking over his shoulder at his computer. What it could be you have no clue.
✦ But you don’t think you want to ask after Ghost pats him quickly on the arm and watches as Price quickly clicks to something else. It has you pause for a moment, quickly bringing a nervous smile to your face. “Bad time?”
✦ “No, Love,” Price coughs, waving his hand in front of his face. “No not at all. What’s the matter? Someone giving you trouble?”
✦ You scoff, crossing your arms over your chest after you close the door behind you. “Sure something like that.”
✦ Ghost’s fist clenched for a moment, almost missed entirely by you if you didn’t notice how they flexed back open. Your eyes meet Price’s and you're taken aback by the look of anger that flashes through them before they soften on you.
✦ “Who?” He huffs through his chapped lips. “We’ll take care of it, don’t you worry-”
✦ “John-” You hold your hand up, pausing his rant. Your feet carry you across the room right in front of his desk. “I’m talking about your attitude earlier.”
✦ The two men blink, heads turning to look at each other before returning their sights to you. “Say again?”
✦ You shake your head, bewildered. “You cannot be serious.”
✦ Your hands glide over your forehead, a small laugh escaping you. “You went completely mad in the mess hall earlier! Nearly had those soldiers pissing themselves in fear!”
✦ Simon snorts, his hands brushing against each other before they cross over his chest. His posture relaxes, but his cockiness is still standing tall. “We were told the schedule was solidified-”
✦ “And by who?” You rest your hands on your hips. “Who gives you the right to schedule out my crew?”
✦ “Some of your crew are our men.” Price scoffs. “I need them in training. They enlisted and now they’re here, they’re not your little minions to-”
✦ “I never said they were!” You scoff, smiling in astonishment. “Besides, I’m well aware they’re your soldiers. I only see them every morning and evening, and sometimes on Thursdays I’ll see them all day long.”
✦ Your crew has been the same for the past two years, and the five of you began this sort of arrangement you have a year into the job. Nothing changed when things started, so why must things be changed now?
✦ Especially since they knew how bad it could get in the kitchen to have randoms in the mix, the boys get switched out, but they’re there for the majority of prep.
✦ Jason is skilled with a knife and translates well with cutting vegetables and meats. He’s also very handy with the communication. Most might think it’s you calling the next items but no. That’s all him.
✦ Sevan knows sanitation like the back of his hand. He keeps the kitchen in order while tidying up and dammit does he send food out like a machine.
✦ “Well we needed them this morning-”
✦ “Okay, and that could’ve been communicated, John.”
✦ “What happens when they’re deployed elsewhere then?” He snaps.
✦ Honestly, the hostility you’re being shown shocks you. Not once has he ever shown this kind of side of him. It seems to have Ghost on edge as well because he keeps glancing in between the both of you.
✦ “Then we get it scheduled to ourselves. Me, Lottie, Paul and Marco! We pick up the slack.” You scoff. “You act like this had never happened before. When your soldiers are deployed I get a load off of me, they aren’t needed-”
✦ “Then learn to do it starting today.” Price knocks on the table, beginning to walk his way towards you. “We aren’t your bloody employees, Crook-”
✦ “Don’t.” You snap back, a finger pointed right on his chest as you stride forward, right in front of him. “I never once treated you like an employee. Nor any of the others. John, you know how stressful the kitchen gets when random people are-”
✦ Again, the captain cuts you off. “This is the last time I’m discussing this. The schedule’s been changed. This is for your good.”
✦ With that he, with some nerve, leads you out of his office with a slam of the door behind you.
✦ You honestly almost want to scream.
✦ That same night you see the change in the schedule, making you almost yank your hair out. It just about has you turning right back around to Copper’s office. But what the hell did Price mean by ‘for your own good?’
✦ The next morning there are two randoms in your kitchen
✦ You don’t get the chance to memorize their names because when lunch rolls around they’re switched.
✦ Yes, each chow hour there is a new pair in your fucking kitchen.
✦ The first two got along just fine with others, you had them on prep for the majority of it. They at least knew to shout something when they were passing their finished product.
✦ The lunch pair was a little worse for wear, you had to throw out a good tray of potatoes because one spilled the pasta salad in the mixer.
✦ Dinner was rough.
✦Not enough prep was done for the meat and bad cuts were being cooked. Most of it was charred. Lottie got hit above the head when she was crouched, with a metal tray of chopped celery because one of the rando’s didn’t shout ‘behind.’
✦ Then clean up. They half-assed everything.
✦ There was still residue on the silverware, the floors weren’t mopped, and there was a whole tub of dishes left to the side.
✦ It was Soap to find you later in the night, furiously wiping a warm soapy rag all around a plate that had crusts of the spaghetti sauce from earlier.
✦ “Crook?”
✦ ”What?”
✦ ”er…ye still joining us fer-”
✦ “No. Tell John I said he can fuck right off too.”
✦ Ouch.
✦ So naturally, he does. Cause he’s Soap fucking MacTavish and he and Gaz are way out of the fucking loop here.
✦ When they get to the bar, without you much to Price’s disappointment, Soap shares the message.
✦ “I didn’t wanna ask, after all, she’s skilled with a knife, gentlemen.” Gaz snickers into his beer before taking a swig. “But what the fuck was going on? I’m sure I heard Crook invent like five new curses in a record time.”
✦ ”Yeah, Price. Do tell. Tell ‘em what you did.”
✦ The lieutenant is met with a cold stare from his commanding officer, which he returns with his own steely eyes.
✦ “I pulled the pair of soldiers we had with her.”
✦ “And for what reason?”
✦ The Captain is quiet for only a moment before he leans in. “Heard some of the rookies making comments bout Crook.”
✦ “So why not have us deal with it? They should know better-”
✦ “Because they weren’t just talking about er. They were talkin’ bout you two.”
✦ The sergeants blink in confusion.
✦ “So a bit of gossip then? So what? ‘S not like we-”
✦ “So.” the lieutenant chimes in. “That means her job is in jeopardy.”
✦ The whole table is silent. Not a word gets uttered from either of them. Just the ol’ jukebox that sounds just about ready to die in the back of the bar and few of the customers that surround them.
✦ You’re not a soldier. No. But you are a civilian who works with military officials. There is a code of conduct everyone should follow.
✦ And you do. To your own knowledge, you do.
✦ “What’d they say?”
✦ Price leans back, his hand sliding upon the polished wood of the table. “Tha’ you and the pair of kitchen hands were passin’ her around like some barracks bunny…”
✦ Soap eyes widen, offended on your own behalf.
✦ “That’s fuckin’ ridiculous-”
✦ “Aye- where the fuck did they come up with-”
✦ “It doesn’t matter. That’s why I pulled the two soldiers. They’re thinkin’ they’re involved too.”
✦ With that in mind, the sergeants do little to interact with you in the daytime.
✦ You almost feel hurt if it wasn’t for the stress the kitchen was piling up on.
✦ The breakfast pair was a new pair of faces, rookies, that would not stop fucking yapping.
✦ You thought you found a small life hack, where putting the new guys on the prep would take a load off you.
✦ But no.
✦ They talk and talk and talk.
✦ It’d be different if they talk and work but fucking hell dude. They just stand and talk. No chopping or peeling or anything.
✦ You had to get on their ass for the fourth time that hour before the timer for Lunch cooking started.
✦ “You guys are excused. But for the love of God just do something right and clean up your station-”
✦ “Sorry ms. Cook, we don’t take orders from you”
✦ “Yeah you excused us. Maybe the sergeants can teach you a thing or two about ordering around.”
✦ Marco whirled around, brows furrowed. “The fuck you say-?”
✦ “Alright!” You shout. “No dicking around in my fucking kitchen. You two- OUT!”
✦ The pair left with a scoff, both cackling as they tossed their aprons on the hooks.
✦ “Fucking Christ, Crook. I didn’t think the rumors were actually like a thing.” Marco sighs out.
✦ “What rumors?”
✦ So Marco, the loverly gossip sponge, spills how after that little snapping match you had with Price, Sevan, and Jason told him how new rookies were talking smack about you.
✦ “Not just the rookies, either. Some of the seasoned guys here too. Guess they’re startin’ to believe it. I’m sorry, Crook I thought you knew.”
✦ You turn to meet eyes with Lottie, who looks just as confused as you are before she gasps in horror. “Oh my God, that kiss-”
✦ The two people that walked out of the base when you and Soap were outside- you really didn’t think anything of it.
✦ “Ugh, and Jason must’ve opened his trap about the mouse thing with Garrick-”
✦ “We have mice?”
✦ “No!” you and Lottie shout as Paul barely walks in from the freezer with the next main course.
✦ “Hey now, Jason can keep a secret- hell I didn’t even know bout any of that.” Marco tries to defend. “Besides, that still doesn’t explain why they got moved out of the kitchen.”
✦ “Unless the Sergeant did it to keep their mouths shut.” Paul muses, sharpening the set of knives being used to chop the next few pieces of vegetables.
✦ “Kyle is not like that. This is all a big misunderstanding.”
✦ You just know Price is not going to budge, so you go to Ghost of all people to help you out.
✦ You think you have a tight enough bond with him to provide you with a little bit of help. Or maybe just to be in your corner.
✦ But no matter how many times you go to Simon for some kind of answer, you’re met with resistance.
✦ “How about for morning prep?” “No”
✦ “For lunch cleaning?” “No time.”
✦ “Can they at least help me cooking-”
✦ Simon snapped at that one. “Crook, we said no. Do I need to fucking spell the word for you? Deal with the change or fuck right o-”
✦ He almost looked shocked at his words. Like he didn’t really have control of his mouth for a moment.
✦ You didn’t cry, your lip didn’t wobble. But my my, did you look so defeated.
✦ “I just need help, Si…” You sigh. “You know how you train your men for the field? I trained those two on my own. And you won’t even tell me why you took them back like that.”
✦ After that there was more tension in the kitchen. You’d stray away from the four, which they suppose helped the rumors die down. But damn. You wouldn’t even call their names anymore.
✦ Then the breaking point.
✦ You should’ve really thought better than to supply these idiots with sharp kitchen knives. They aren’t like their hunting knives where they can practice they’re stabbing-
✦ No these things are meant to cut meat.
✦ So when you heard Marco scream from the kitchen while you were checking in on the serving crew, you felt your heart sink.
✦ You race in, ignoring the commotion behind you of soldiers standing up to see if what ever happened was in their view.
✦ They do see you come back out with blood on your left hand as you shout ‘Medic!’
✦ From what you gathered from the apologizing rookie, is that Marco turned around the corner from a station (that wasn’t his) and the rookie was coming back from the sharpening shelves on the wall.
✦ The blade was pointed forward and Marco ran right into it.
✦ There was so much blood on Paul’s hand from where he tried to stop the bleeding. The knife was removed when he fell to his knees.
✦ You didn’t know what to do. You didn’t know who to talk to.
✦ And when Captain John Price makes his way towards you, worry in his eye,
✦ You can’t help but glare and hug yourself in hopes he doesn’t reach out to hug you. You’re too angry.
✦ He knows.
✦ “Crook…”
✦ “I told you.” You mutter. “They said they punctured something in him. He needed a blood transfusion. That might be light work for you soldiers or rookies but we aren’t soldiers. At least not anymore.”
✦ You stand from your seat, walking towards him. “If there’s a problem with silly rumors, Captain. Let me deal with it. Those people are like my family. And Sevan and Jason? Would have never done something like this.”
✦ Your eye never leaves him. Unblinking. “Either put them back or end this arrangement. I’m not having people get hurt because you think I can’t handle HR or stupid fucking rumors.”
✦ With that you walk away from him.
✦ And he wonders for a moment if you walked away from them completely...
heh, I needed a reason to write Price and Simon's solo fics.
Thanks for reading! Please comment and reblog I'd appreciate it!
Being part of the 141 pack meant you watched out for your boys, always. As their medic, it meant you sometimes flew into danger for them. When someone uses that knowledge against you to separate you from your pack, you pay the price.
Warnings: Blood, treating wounds, medical inaccuracies, shifter biology, shifter dynamics, psychological torture, physical torture, being blinded (hood over head), brief self-harm (pulling feathers). This one is a bit dark so if you would like more in depth warnings, come ask me.
Word count: 7.6k
Harpy eagle f!reader x 141 poly
You soared over the trees, sharp eyes watching for your team. You’d gotten the call that they needed you a few hours prior, so you knew they’d likely moved some from their last coordinates. But you doubted they’d gone far. You weren’t even tired yet, broad wings carrying you and your pack.
Finally, you spotted Soap, in a convenient space between trees. Good man, making your life easier. You didn’t cry out in recognition, because that was dangerous. But you did dive, tucking your wings close and waiting until the last possible moment to pull up, flapping down to land on your pack. It was specially designed to be sturdy enough for you to land on, fortunately.
“There ye are,” Soap murmured, grinning at you and reaching out one hand to stroke the top of your head. You blinked at him, chirping. “C’mon. Someone got a lucky hit on Ghost.”
You hopped off your medic pack, hopping a few steps away before you shifted. “How bad?” you asked, opening up your pack and throwing on clothes. For the chill more than for modesty.
You had no modesty around your boys anymore.
“Price wants ye to check, because Ghost is bein’ an ass.”
“I heard that,” came the grumpy growl from Ghost.
You rolled your eyes and picked up your pack, which looked more like a picnic basket when you carried it this way. “If you’re alive enough to growl, you’re alive enough to behave,” you pointed out. He still had his mask on, but he wasn’t arguing lying down, either. Hmm. Must be feeling worse than you thought.
You settled on your knees next to Ghost, giving him a quick once-over. Bandages had been packed down against his thigh, though you ignored them for the moment. Nothing else looked out of place.
“Anywhere hurting besides the thigh?”
“Took a round to the vest,” he admitted, a little reluctant and a lot grumpy. Probably mostly grumpy that he got hit.
“Just bruised,” Gaz said as he crouched a little to the side of you and behind you, out of the way but ready to assist. “Didn’t even crack a rib.”
“Lucky bastard,” you agreed, shifting your attention down to his thigh. “And this?”
“A graze,” Gaz said. “But it bled a lot, more than normal.”
You hummed acknowledgement, leaning closer. Ghost shifted, and you cooed softly, almost reflexively. He huffed but settled.
The wound wasn’t bad under the bandages, but it was in a tricky spot, just above his knee. You couldn’t see any real reason why it would have bled more than normal except use, which was kind of inevitable. But even so, just to be on the safe side, you smeared it with ointment and rewrapped it.
“How far do you have to go?” You packed up the rest of your supplies after forcing Ghost to drink more water.
“Little ways yet.” Price shrugged, planting his hands on his hips.
“I’m fine to keep going,” Ghost said, because of course he did.
“You finish your water,” you said, poking his hip. “Then we’ll see.”
He huffed, eyes narrowing at you. But he subsided. Mostly because you both knew Price would side with you.
“If you left now?” You raised one eyebrow at Price.
“We’d make it by dawn.”
You puffed out a breath. That was not too bad. Ghost was tough, you knew he could last that long, especially since he’d already been forced to rest (and probably to eat something, knowing the rest of the pack). “I’ll scout ahead,” you said, pushing up to your feet. “Circle back and follow behind, make sure you’re fine.”
“I’ve got your pack,” Gaz offered before you could say anything more. You rolled your eyes at him but didn’t protest. You knew better.
You also knew better than to shift again without eating something, so you ripped open a protein bar and ate it as fast as possible under Price’s approving eye. Tossing your clothes back at Gaz and grinning at his playful huff, you shifted back and took off again.
The route forward to their exfil point was clear and quiet, even to your keen gaze. Turning to circle back, you made sure to check back in on your guys as you flew above them.
No enemies behind, either. They’d done a good job of either killing everyone who’d tried to follow, or losing them. You expected nothing less from them.
Pleased, you made a few big circles just to be sure. Still nothing. No sign of enemies. You took your time following your pack to the exfil point.
True to Price’s prediction, just as the sun broke the horizon the pack made it to exfil. You dove down to join them, landing next to Ghost. Gaz tossed your clothes to you as soon as you shifted, and Ghost shoved water at you.
“You all are mother hens, y’know that?” you grumbled without any heat, grinning, even as you double-checked Gaz’s straps.
“Says the biggest hen of us,” Soap pointed out with a wicked grin.
“Now now, just because my tits are the best–” you started playfully.
“Enough,” Price interrupted, sitting on Gaz’s other side, between him and the opening. Smart man.
You and Soap subsided, though you did both roll your eyes. “Everybody good?” You looked around at them, meeting each gaze squarely for a moment, to make sure none of them were lying. They all tolerated it, well used to you by now. Satisfied that none of your guys were about to keel over, you settled back for the trip back.
Flying in a heli had never been your favorite thing to do. You much preferred to fly on your own. But you had to admit that the heli was faster - you’d tried once to keep up, and couldn’t. Which wasn’t actually surprising, just disappointing.
This flight was not bad. Not too long. Which was good, because you were getting antsy. Ghost had caught a nap on the heli, but you still wanted to make sure he was fine in better conditions than you’d had before.
As soon as the heli landed, you were out, watching Ghost carefully. He wouldn’t accept help, not in front of others, but that didn’t mean you couldn’t check in.
“‘M fine,” he grumbled at you very quietly as you fell into step next to him.
“I’m sure you are,” you agreed. “And I’ll be more sure after I get to look you over.”
Soap leaned closer, waggling his eyebrows. But he didn’t say anything, because he couldn’t. Not here. Not where people could overhear and get the wrong idea.
Simon was fine, as it turned out when you finally got him to medical. Heightened metabolisms were good for some things, after all, and that included faster healing.
But you still bullied all your guys into the nest to take a nap.
“Stop fussing,” Price grumbled, lifting his head to pin you with a look. “And get in here.”
“It is literally my job to fuss,” you grumbled right back, although you did stop messing with the pillows and observed the nest. There was a good spot next to Simon. You carefully stepped over Gaz and Price before you settled down with a soft chirp, nestled between Simon and Price. There. That was better.
Price’s soft huff made you grin to yourself. At least until Simon tucked you under his arm and started scratching your scalp. Then you relaxed into him.
Okay. Maybe you could take a nap too.
One good thing about having pack-only spaces was that you could be with your guys without fear.
Simon had been ordered to stay and rest and finish healing while the other three went on what was supposed to be a quick mission. A day or two all told, is how Price had phrased it. You didn't know the details, didn't need to know the details, but you did know that Simon hated this.
"Relax," you murmured to him soothingly, scratching your fingers against his scalp. "They'll be back soon."
He grumbled wordlessly, one hand curling against your thigh where he was also using it as a pillow.
"Easy, Simon," you murmured, low and soothing. The little bit of grooming helped both of you, you knew. And it was almost all you could do for the moment.
Until you got called to help with exfil.
You hated leaving Simon, knew he'd be all but climbing the walls in his anxiety, but… needs must. He understood.
This time you went without your med pack - supplies would be available after exfil.
You weren't even sure Price had called for you. But the order came from higher up, so off you went to go help.
From high in the air, the battlefield looked bad. You could see bodies still laying where they'd fallen, a visual indication of the path of retreat. It took a little time to find your guys, the three of them huddled together behind a half-burned building. There were no immediate threats, but you could see where enemies had set up to hinder them.
It was not an easy situation, nor an easy fix. You flapped your wings a few times, changing your trajectory.
You needed to give them a distraction, a chance to get out. Most people didn't look up - you could use that, get a good sneak attack or two in. Cause a little chaos in the line.
It would do for now, until you came up with a better plan.
You flew a little higher, using the angle of the sun to help disguise your descent. And then you dove, aiming for one soldier a little apart from the others. He never saw you coming.
But he screamed as your talons ripped through the vulnerable skin of his scalp and neck.
You flapped hard, leaving him to bleed out even as shouts started up around you. You managed to vanish into the sun, flying up high again. You'd be harder to hit that way.
Of course, now they were on alert. Damn. That hadn't quite been enough of a distraction for your guys to get away.
You needed something bigger.
Scanning the ground, you looked for something out of the way to pick up and drop on the enemy line.
It was a good plan, and it even worked.
Until you were flying away. Someone must have been watching, because there was a sharp pain in your wing, enough to make you screech. Your wing faltered and you fell, just able to slow yourself enough that you didn't injure yourself further.
You hit the ground in a flurry of blood and feathers and screeching. Your wing hurt, leaving you unable to fly.
Behind enemy lines.
The first man to lunge at you got your beak to his throat, blood hot as it splashed across your face and chest. Maybe you'd have time to get to safety, maybe you could shift and–
Something heavy fell over your head, completely blocking your vision. You screeched, loud and angry, but more heavy things landed on top of you. Something held your wings firmly down against your sides, the pain sharp enough to make you try to jerk away. But you couldn't, too many hands grabbing you and securing you.
Blind and trapped, you could only feel as you were picked up and moved.
But you weren't dead yet, which was terrifying.
People handed you off between them, and you tried to flap your wings or flex your claws or anything. But movement of any kind resulted in you being squeezed to the point of pain.
With no way to see where you were or how many of them there were, you gave up. Conserved your strength, so you'd have a better chance of escape once you could see again.
An engine rumbled to life, and you got squished in against a body.
"Try anything funny and I will break your wing," a man hissed to you in heavily-accented English. You didn't doubt that he, or someone, would.
So you behaved, because you wouldn't be able to escape if you had a broken wing. You listened to the occasional chatter in Arabic. You tried very hard not to panic.
Sooner than you expected, the car stopped and you were once again handed off. The thing never came off your head, never let you see anything.
But you could hear more people, orders shouted in Arabic, more movement.
Oh this was bad.
Someone carried you somewhere cooler. More movement around you, and for a brief moment you could see as the heavy thing over your head was yanked off - you could see two men in front of you, one of them grinning to show off two empty spaces where teeth should be.
Then darkness again as a hood was secured over your head. You'd never been put in a falconry hood, but you knew immediately that's what it was, just from the feel of the leather and ties around your head. You screeched, trying to flap your wings.
"Enough of that," a sharp voice scolded. You nearly startled to realize it sounded like a woman. There was another flurry of Arabic, orders it sounded like, and then hands grasped your right wing, the one with the bullet hole. Big hands held you in place, wing extended, other wing pinned to your side.
You had no idea what they were doing until you heard the snip, snip, snip. You screeched, enraged and despairing and agonized. But they didn't stop, and there was nothing you could do.
"There." The woman sounded far too smug, too pleased. "Now you can be my bird." She laughed, low and throaty and sadistic.
You shivered, tucking your wings in as tight as you could, shifting restlessly from foot to foot. Bells jingled as you moved and you froze in horror.
Hood and jesses. They were treating you like a falconry bird.
If you could, you might have thrown up. As it was, you made a tiny distressed noise.
A door shut somewhere nearby, leaving you with the terrible feeling that you were alone.
You tried to pace off the room, but the fucking bells kept breaking your concentration. You could stretch your wings, at least, though the right one hurt. And the way the air moved around your wing was… wrong.
That was all the confirmation you needed, even as you pulled your wings in tight again and huddled in place, shivering. They’d clipped your primaries.
Even if the hood was gone, you wouldn’t be able to fly.
You had no idea how long you stood there, alone in the forced darkness. Time was meaningless as you mentally went in circles. Simon knew you’d gone. There was a chance the other three had seen you or heard the commotion. People knew you were gone.
Someone would come for you.
Or you’d be killed first.
But you didn’t want to die, your pack needed you, you couldn’t leave them, they’d never forgive themselves if you died here–
The door opened hard enough that it slammed into the wall, and you jumped, wings flaring in agitation.
“There’s my pretty bird,” the woman from before cooed, over-sweet and mocking. “Hungry yet?” Her steps were deliberately loud as she approached you. You stiffened, holding yourself tense, but didn’t move. “Now, are you going to cooperate? Be a good bird?”
You didn’t reply, but you figured that lack of fighting would be a response. Because you had no idea where you were, and you held almost no power here. You knew that if you got too uppity, they’d make your life worse. Probably not kill you - they’d had plenty of opportunity to do that, and hadn’t yet.
But you could think of plenty of things they could do to make things worse for you.
The hood was pulled off your head, and you blinked rapidly as you adjusted to the light. The room had no windows and only one door. The artificial light washed everything yellow.
And, most importantly, left you no way to know how long it had been, how long you’d been gone.
The woman in front of you wore khaki and brown, simple clothes that were more functional than fashionable. Brown eyes held yours, a smirk slowly stretching her lips when you refused to look away first. But she didn’t seem to care about a dominance game. She just stepped further into the room, setting down two bowls for you.
Like you were a pet.
Your stomach turned and you stayed very still, head tipped, watching her closely.
“Well? Go on. Eat while you can.” Her grin had stretched into a cruel thing, showing too many teeth.
You shuffle-hopped forward, the bells on the jesses setting off every nerve you had. You hated this. Hated her. But this wouldn’t be forever, you knew it wouldn’t. You needed to eat, needed the fuel to heal and save up for your escape (as soon as you had a decent plan).
So, much as it grated on you, you ate from the bowl, keeping your gaze on her as much as you could. It felt demeaning, dehumanizing.
You felt like some exotic pet. The feeling made your blood boil, made you seethe. But you were careful to do so very quietly, only to yourself.
“Good bird,” she cooed mockingly. “We shall see how long it takes to train you.”
Before you could do more than flare your wings in protest, the hood was shoved back on your head, plunging you into darkness once more. You flapped your wings twice, momentarily off-balance.
The door shut. A lock clicked.
And you were alone again, in darkness and silence.
It was impossible to track how much time had passed. You could hear only occasional muffled sounds beyond your room, had no way to mark the passage of time.
The only breaks from the darkness were for food, always far enough apart that you were hungry, always the woman and one underling. Always demeaning. Always difficult.
You suffered through five meals. Five meals. Each one worse than the last, with more taunting, more mocking. It was harder every time to not just leap at her and rip into her.
But you remained patient, somehow.
The muffled sound of gunfire drew your attention, and you moved back and forth restlessly. It was hard not to get your hopes up, after however many days of being stuck here.
When the gunfire got louder and you heard the muffled shouts outside your door, satisfaction surged. That was probably your pack, coming for you.
And if it wasn’t, well… There was more than one way out of here.
You waited for a lull in the fighting, in the shouting and gunshots and chaos. And then you screeched, as loud as you could.
There. If that was your pack, they’d know it was you. If it was anybody else… You’d deal with that when you could.
The fighting and gunfire got closer, and you backed up slowly, carefully. The jingling of the fucking jesses still grated, but it was easier to ignore with the fighting outside.
There were two shots outside, two thuds. Your heart beat faster and you half-spread your wings, talons clicking against the floor.
“Found her,” came Soap’s voice from the door, and the breath whooshed out of you all at once. “Fuck,” he ground out, as angry as you’d ever heard him. “Okay, ‘s just me, sweets. Ah’m gonna take this off, yeah?” Hands fumbled with the hood for a moment before it was gone, leaving you blinking and near-blinded by the sudden brightness.
And there was Soap, clothes a little bloodied, expression torn between rage and sympathy. He spared a moment to smooth a hand over your head.
“Can ye shift?”
You clicked your beak and awkwardly held out one leg, jingling the jess still attached.
His expression immediately darkened. “Ah’ll burn the whole place,” he swore, rapidly removing one jess, then the other.
Relieved, you immediately shifted back. Your arm ached where the bullet hole had mostly healed, and you knew you probably looked a wreck. You felt a wreck, a little shaky and unsteady. But you were also determined to get the hell out.
“Give me a gun,” you rasped, throat dry.
“Ah donnae have supplies for ye,” Soap murmured apologetically, even as he unclipped his handgun and handed it to you. “Keep close.”
You nodded silently, pushing down everything else. You’d deal with everything else later.
Warm wetness on your feet made you look down as you followed Soap out of the room that had been your prison for however long. Two guards, both dead. Clean shots. Blood had pooled in the hallway. Your upper lip curled and you stepped carefully through the hall, not wanting to slip on anything.
Soap motioned you to wait as you came up to a corner, and he peeked around first. A gunshot had him jerking back.
“Counted eight,” he murmured to you. “Wait here.”
“But–” Your shoulders raised, and if you’d had feathers they would have been floofing out.
“Ye have no vest, no protection,” Soap pointed out, soft but firm. “Jus’ got ye back, sweets. Donnae ask me this.”
And you deflated again. As much as you wanted to kill every bastard in the building yourself, he had a good point. “Okay,” you agreed quietly, grip tightening briefly on your gun. “I’ll wait.”
Soap pressed a quick, hard kiss to your temple before he was gone, picking off one before he even rounded the corner. You could do nothing but listen to the chaos and wait for the all clear to move up.
A scuff behind you had you whirling, gun up. The woman stood no more than ten paces away, teeth bared, a gun in her hand.
“Well well, is this what pretty birdie looks like when she’s not a birdie?” She laughed, the sound unhinged, divorced from reality. “What a waste.”
“Don’t move.” Your voice didn’t shake. Your hands didn’t shake. But your mind… your mind quailed.
“What’s the matter, birdie? Missing your hood?” Her teeth were bloody, eyes fixed on you as she took a step closer.
You swallowed hard, breath coming faster. If you never saw a hood again it would be too soon.
“We can fix that.” She took another step forward, lifting the gun slowly, as if it was much heavier than it actually was.
You didn’t hesitate. You didn’t blink. You shot her, center mass.
She fell.
“Sweets?” Soap sounded only a little panicky.
“Clear!” You swallowed. Then again. You were a medic, yes, but this was far from the first time you’d killed. You’d hoped this would bring a little peace.
Instead you were simply numb.
“Move up!” Soap called after another minute. You obeyed wordlessly, turning your back on the corpse without another thought.
“How far?” you asked softly, stopping behind him, letting him be your shield again.
“Not much farther.” He glanced back at you, worried. “Ye alright?”
“Fine.” Your answer was short, clipped. Because you couldn’t think about being anything other than fine. “Let’s go.”
Soap hesitated a moment longer, gaze searching your face, before he nodded once, slowly. Then he moved, keeping you behind him. You kept close to him, moving as quietly as possible, ignoring the tackiness of blood drying on your skin.
He had you wait as he cleared one more room, and then the two of you met up with Gaz. Gaz breathed in sharply when he saw you but was quick to tug you to him in a hard hug, the edges of his vest and gear blunt and uncomfortable against your skin. You didn’t care, returning the hug with an edge of desperation.
“Here,” Gaz murmured, pulling spare clothes from one of his pouches. “Couldn’t bring extra gear for you, but this’ll do for now.”
You nodded, pulling the clothes on silently. They didn’t actually help you feel any better, but being with two of your pack did.
“Price and Ghost are almost done,” Gaz told Soap, tucking you between the two so you were protected. “Ready to meet up?”
“Ready.” Soap grinned, brief and vicious. “Ye’ll like this,” he promised you, taking the lead. You followed him, Gaz on your six. The building was quiet now, tension thrumming under your skin. But you kept up, swallowing back your nerves as best you could.
“All set up?” Soap asked as he stepped into a room. You followed, a little more cautious.
“All set,” Price agreed, eyes immediately finding you. A bit of tension leaked from his shoulders and he smiled, just a little. “Ready to get out of here?”
You nodded silently, but didn’t say anything. Which didn’t matter, because Ghost was in front of you in a few long strides, one hand gently cupping your cheek to tip your head.
“Injuries?” he asked softly, gaze sweeping over you.
“Just my arm.” And your feathers, but you couldn’t think about that for longer than a moment or you’d start screaming.
Ghost nodded, pulling you into his side.
“Let’s go,” Price ordered, taking point. The others kept you in the middle between them all the way out.
At a safe distance, the group of you turned. Soap waggled his eyebrows at you, grinning, before he pushed down on a detonator.
The entire building collapsed, shaking apart as explosions ripped through it. It was incredibly cathartic to see. Or, well. It probably was. You were… kind of numb.
“Here.”
You blinked slowly to find Price holding out a water to you. Your hands trembled as you took it, drinking slowly under the watchful gaze of your pack.
“It’s not far to exfil,” Gaz murmured, one hand resting on your shoulder. You leaned into the touch, breath momentarily hitching.
“Okay.” You swallowed hard and took the protein bar Price handed over, eating mechanically. You could barely taste it.
You knew this was bad, but. Not much to be done about it yet.
“You alright to walk the rest of the way?” Price asked, glancing down at your feet.
You blinked. You… couldn’t actually feel any discomfort from your feet, though you knew you should. You were standing barefoot on the ground, and it wasn’t even flat ground. “I’m fine.”
Price eyed you for a moment before he nodded. “Let’s get out of here, then,” he murmured. Contrary to his own words, he leaned in until he could press his forehead to yours, taking a moment to just breathe. Then he pulled back, once again taking point.
You followed, a little slow but moving under your own power. At least you weren’t in pain.
Yet.
The heli was waiting for you when you arrived. You shivered briefly against the wind and hurried in, buckling in with shaking hands. Soap dropped down on one side of you, Gaz on your other side. They both double checked your harness.
The flight back didn’t seem to take any time. You sat upright, tired and numb and cold, but unable to show any of that. You would eventually, you knew. You should probably warn your guys, you knew.
But you couldn’t.
The heli set down with a bump and you jolted. Two pairs of hands steadied you, Gaz and Soap both looking at you with concern.
But nobody said anything as they escorted you to medical.
You answered anything directly asked of you, quiet and stiff. The bullet hole in your arm was deemed mostly healed (it should have been more healed, really, but you hadn’t eaten enough), and otherwise you were dehydrated and bruised, but mostly unharmed.
The problem arose when one of the medics asked you to shift.
“No.” The word was only a whisper but you leaned away, hands curling into fists, muscles pulling taut.
The medic paused, eyeing you carefully. You were known to be more easy-going and cooperative, so this? Was unusual. “If you need privacy–”
“No.” It came out a little stronger this time, even as your gaze darted to the door, heart racing. No. Absolutely not.
The medic slowly leaned back, away from you. But their voice was calm as they called, “Captain?”
Price was in front of you a moment later, taking in your posture in a quick glance. He put one heavy hand on your shoulder, ducking his head to look you in the eyes for a moment. “Easy,” he murmured, frowning a little. “You done here?” He glanced back over his shoulder at the medic.
“She hasn’t shifted yet, so we’re not technically done,” the medic explained.
Price glanced down at you, and you shook your head, jaw clenched so tight your teeth ached. “Another time,” Price grunted, gently tugging you off the exam table.
The medic sighed, exasperated but unwilling to fight. “Fine. Make sure she sleeps,” they ordered, moving out of the way. “And eats.”
Price nodded, letting his hand fall from your shoulder. You tried not to focus on that, tried to focus on following him instead. But it was hard. The touch had been grounding, helpful. Helping to pull you back into yourself.
“You should get cleaned up,” Price murmured, heading back towards your quarters. “It’ll help.”
“Yeah.” You couldn’t manage more than that, couldn’t force more out. The numbness was slowly fading, leaving you aching. And tired. So very tired.
Price paused outside your door, studying you. “Do you want someone here?”
You swallowed and forced yourself to nod. You didn’t want to be alone. But you didn’t want anyone looking at you just yet, either.
Price nodded slowly, brow furrowing a little. “I’ll stay,” he rumbled, pushing your door open and ushering you through first. “Get cleaned up, dress down for the evening.”
You nodded wordlessly, slipping past him and grabbing comfortable clothes. You had a bathroom to yourself, something you were extremely grateful for, and you shut the door between yourself and your alpha. And then immediately opened it a crack, because you felt too trapped otherwise.
Hot water felt heavenly, after everything. Getting to scrub your head felt heavenly. Everything else… Well. You definitely overdid it washing yourself, scratching your skin nearly raw in places. You did make yourself bleed again, accidentally breaking open the wound in your arm.
But you finally felt clean enough for the moment and emerged, drying off and wrapping your head in a towel. That would do.
Price was still sitting on your bed when you emerged, phone in hand, though he turned his gaze to you as soon as the door opened. His gaze lingered on your skin, and you knew he was making note of everything. But he didn’t comment.
“Figured we’d go to the pack room,” he said, carefully phrasing it as an option, rather than an order. “Got Gaz and Soap bringing food.”
You nodded. “Food sounds good,” you admitted, walking over to him. You didn’t ask, just plastered yourself to his front, cheek pressed to his chest, inhaling the comforting scent of your alpha. Price hummed softly, one hand cupping the back of your head, his other settling on your back.
“Take as long as you need,” he murmured, low and soothing. “We’ll walk together, hm?”
“Yeah.” You closed your eyes, relaxing into his warmth. Just a minute. You just needed a minute. Price only held you tighter.
You finally pulled back with one last deep breath. “Okay,” you croaked. “Let’s go.”
Price didn’t object, but he did keep you close as the two of you walked to the pack room. Almost nobody was around, which worked out well, because you were starting to use your captain for help staying upright.
No sooner had you stepped into the pack room than you got swarmed. Somehow, you weren’t exactly sure how, they settled you on the couch pressed up against Simon, with Gaz and Soap chattering as they made up plates of food, and Price hovering behind you and Simon.
“Don’t ask,” you murmured to Simon, fairly sure Price could hear too. “Not yet.”
Simon hummed softly, carefully bundling you even closer to his side. “Not yet,” he agreed, about as soft as he ever got.
Gaz and Soap carried the conversation through dinner, both of them settling around you as well until you were entirely enclosed by pack. It should have made you feel better.
It didn’t.
All you could think of were the past eight days. Eight, you discovered when Soap let it slip. Eight days you’d been stuck in that hood and silence but for the jesses, treated like an animal.
It was almost enough to make you sick.
You swallowed down what you could, but ended up leaving food. It was odd - you would have thought you’d be ravenous, after the last days. But you weren’t. You were barely hungry, only ate to try to stave off their concern.
Which didn’t entirely work, from the quick looks and little touches you endured through the evening.
And then you just… settled. Let one of them take your plate when it was obvious you weren’t going to eat more, and relaxed. Simon stayed on one side of you, refusing to move. You leaned more and more into him as your eyes tried to shut, until he simply pulled you in to use his chest as a pillow. You murmured something, half complaint half thanks, and closed your eyes, the soothing sounds of your pack settling around you.
You woke to total darkness.
For a moment you couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move. If you moved you’d hear those damn bells, and there was no point because you couldn’t get anywhere, you were trapped, and your wings– your wings–
“Hey, hey, s’alright love,” Simon murmured urgently, hands patting at you. Which was when you realized you were keening, breath hitching in your chest. You still couldn’t see but you could feel your pack moving around you.
“Get the lights,” Price ordered. “Simon?”
“Not sure.” Simon put one hand over your chest. “You need to breathe.” It wasn’t until he put your hand against his chest, letting you feel the exaggerated inflation of his lungs that you realized he was talking to you.
The lights flipped on, bright and sudden, and you went limp. You were fine. You were in the pack room. You didn’t have a hood on.
“Love?” Simon leaned closer to you, eyes dark and worried.
“‘M okay,” you gasped, blinking a few times, finally settling back into reality. “Just. A minute.”
Simon didn’t move, just breathing in again. You did your best to follow along, nerves still strung taut from waking the way you did. Soap pressed up close to your side, his head resting near your hip. Your fingers curled gently in his hair, scratching lightly at his scalp to help calm yourself. Based on his pleased hum, that’s what he’d wanted in the first place.
“Better?” Price moved carefully closer, doing a quick visual check.
“Yeah.” You licked your lips, very aware of your dry throat now. “Just.” You clenched your jaw. Admitting weakness was never easy, and this was no different. “Couldn’t see.”
Soap lifted his head to look at you. “Sweets,” he started, carefully, like he was feeling for land mines. “Did they keep the hood on ye?”
You swallowed hard. “Except for when they brought me food.”
“Hood?” Gaz asked, handing over a bottle of water to you, expression mostly blank.
“And jesses,” you confirmed before taking a deep drink of water.
“We’ll make sure there’s a light on for you,” Price said, before anyone else could say anything. Which was honestly for the best - you didn’t think you could talk any more about what had happened just yet.
“You should go back to sleep,” you murmured, setting the water bottle down and scratching Soap’s scalp again. “Too early to be up.”
“Hm.” Price tipped his head, looking at you. Then he huffed softly. “Stubborn.”
You only had time to blink before he was settling back in with the rest of you, getting comfortable. The nest was big enough for all of you, because you’d made sure of that, but still.
You didn’t think anyone would manage to get back to sleep, especially with the light on. But they surprised you - Gaz snored gently against Price’s ribs, while Soap used your hip as a pillow. (He always made the oddest choices.) Price didn’t sleep, but he did close his eyes and relax.
Simon just kept you close, his steady breathing helping your own.
Your pack didn’t quite hover the next few days. They did, however, take rotating shifts making sure someone stayed with you. Simon nudged you into the pack room every night. Gaz had pulled up a nightlight from somewhere, the soft yellow light always left on now. They didn’t let you feel ashamed of it, either, though shame still tried to wiggle into your brain.
Things weren’t okay. Wouldn’t be okay for a while. But they were getting better.
Except for your wings.
You managed not to think about it most of the time, focused on staying human and getting through the worst of the aftereffects. Sure, it wasn’t conventional torture, but it was almost worse.
Things finally came to a head when the rest of the pack shifted, Gaz and Soap racing outside immediately, growling playfully at each other. Ghost followed, more placid, looking at you once over his shoulder.
Price stopped in front of you, the bear easily able to meet your gaze. You knew that if he stood up straight on his hind legs, he’d be much taller than you.
“No.” Your smile was small and tight, pained. “You go. I’m not shifting.”
His head tipped, fuzzy little ears flickering back towards the open door and back to you. He grunted softly and nosed your ribs gently.
“Okay,” you agreed. “I’ll come out for a bit.”
Satisfied, he huffed and went first, lumbering out the door. You followed him, briefly squinting against the light before you adjusted.
Gaz and Soap raced across the open space, occasionally trying to trip each other or jump over each other. Soap even got bold enough to bite Ghost’s tail and run for it, angry cat hot on his tail and gaining fast. Price found a nice sunny spot to watch and make sure they didn’t actually go overboard.
Pretty normal. Except for you. You stood stiff and still, watching them and making no effort to join. It was… too much. It wasn’t their fault, or yours. The only people responsible were dead.
None of them looked when you slipped back inside, as quietly as you could. You had one more thing you needed to do, and you needed some privacy to do it.
Your room was far enough from them that you didn’t worry about being found immediately. You carefully took off your clothes, folding them on your bed. One deep breath. Two.
You could do this. Hell, you’d been doing this since you were a child. Nothing would stop you now.
You shifted between breaths, braced for… something. But nothing happened. You didn’t immediately panic.
Okay. So far so good.
You spread your wings carefully, flapping them a few times. You could just see your reflection in the mirror. Your beak was just as sharp, your crest still upright. Bits of downy feathers stuck up from a lack of preening, but you ignored the vague feeling of wrongness. You had something more important to fix.
Your primaries had all been cut on your right wing. Not just some of them. All of them. It would take months for them to molt on their own. Months of being grounded, being flightless, being useless.
The soft, mournful sound ripped free from your throat, and you flapped again. You could hop, maybe get a bit of air. But you couldn’t fly, not like this.
Unless…
No. No, that was a terrible idea.
Except that it wasn’t, really, a terrible idea. The longer you stood there, head tipped, staring at your clipped feathers in the mirror, the more sense it made.
One last deep breath in and you dipped your head, tipping your wing to make it easier. It took a little shuffling and a little preening to get the right feather in your beak.
The first one came out cleanly, a few drips of blood accompanying it. You dropped the shaft to the floor, not giving yourself time to really feel the pain. You just did it again. And again. And again.
Until the floor was littered with blood and snipped feathers, the red stark on the black and white banded feathers. Your wing burned and ached, throbbing in time with your heart, and your chest heaved with your panting, beak open. You felt almost dizzy with it, mind gone blank.
“Sweets?” The panicked yell made you blink and cheep softly, though you didn’t move yet. Your door was unlocked. “Sweets, I smell blood.” Gaz hit the door a moment later, nearly tumbling inside when the door opened easily. He froze when he spotted you, anguish twisting his features. “Oh, Sweets, what did you do?”
You chirped at him, turning carefully, keeping your right wing flared.
Gaz knelt in front of you, ducking down to examine where you’d pulled out your feathers. “Doesn’t look like you’re still bleeding,” he murmured, almost absently preening your feathers. “But why–?”
You chirped at him and picked up one of the feathers by the shaft, showing him the cut end.
“Cut?” He frowned, gaze darting between you and the small pile of feathers, before realization hit. He swallowed hard, rage like a dark thundercloud. “But why pull them?”
You chirped softly, dropping the feather and hopping closer to him. You were not designed for flat floors, dammit, you were designed for trees!
“Do you wanna shift?” Gaz asked, frowning a little at you.
You shook yourself. Now that you’d shifted, you actually felt a little better. Still kind of awful, because you couldn’t fly, but you didn’t feel quite as raw.
He huffed. “Course not,” he agreed with a wry smile. “Can I help you preen?”
You chirped softly again, ducking your head under his hand. He took it as permission, which it was, and began combing through your feathers gently.
“Gonna have to talk to one of us eventually,” he murmured, hands gentle over your injured wing. “Can’t put it off forever.”
You clicked your beak at him and stretched, gently preening his hair. He huffed but allowed it, muttering something about you being a menace.
Gaz ended up letting you perch on his arm as he walked back to the pack room. Price huffed at your wing, gently pulling it to get a better look.
“Did you do this or did they?” His voice was calm, but you knew your alpha. He was not calm.
You chirped softly, looking to Gaz to answer for you.
“She pulled ‘em, but they were clipped.”
“Ah.” Price blew out a breath, fingers gentle as he checked your secondaries. “Force ‘em to come in sooner?”
You chirped a soft affirmative.
“Gonna need to eat more, then.” The look he gave you told you this was not an argument you would win. So you didn’t fight.
You let them take care of you and fuss (not too much), and you just worked on being better.
It took time, but the worst of the nightmares faded. Pitch black still bothered you but it was manageable, rather than panic attack inducing every time.
Things got better.
Your feathers still hadn’t come in yet, but you could be patient a little while longer. You could feel the itch where they were forming and growing. Good enough.
Your first op was supposed to be an easy one. Well. As easy as anything the 141 took on.
You, Price, and Gaz were clearing one building while Soap and Ghost cleared another. It was… not easy, but routine.
Until you stumbled over one man Gaz missed.
The man was in the back of the room, laying low. You probably wouldn’t have spotted him except a bit of light fell right on a very familiar feather. The black and white banding could, hypothetically, have been from any number of birds.
But you knew.
An angry snarl twisted your lips, and you stepped intentionally into the room, barely remembering to call to Price over your shoulder, gaze locked on your target. Your gun was steady on him.
He watched you right back, one hand reaching for a weapon from a fallen comrade in a way he probably thought was stealthy.
The bullet you planted between him and the weapon disabused him of that notion.
“Where did you get that feather?” you asked, voice low and growly. If you weren’t so focused, it would have startled you to hear how furious you sounded.
He looked up at you and grinned, front two teeth missing. You jerked back, body recalling more vividly than your mind the sudden darkness that had followed that grin.
“Easy,” Price murmured from behind you, just to the side. Close enough to support you and take the shot if you needed, but giving you space to do it yourself.
You breathed in deep. And shot him. For many reasons, including not leaving an enemy alive at your back.
But bending down to pull your feather from his shirt was just for you.
“You broken?” Price watched you, giving you space still. Letting you decide.
You tucked the feather in your vest and smiled. “Not today.” You nudged him, tipping your head to rest against his shoulder for just a moment, before you started walking again. “If we finish up before Soap, he promised he’d buy cookies.”
Price’s chuckle followed you out of the room. Gaz called over comms that the building was clear, and Soap started swearing. He and Gaz went back and forth on the matter of the cookies, easy bickering in the middle of everything else.
You just laughed, knowing your pack had you. Always.
What if Feral wasn't the only one abused in their past? What if their whole family pack was toxic and abusive. What if the reason Feral is the way that they are with 141 isn't (only) cause of the abuse they grew up with, but also the guilt of having gotten away. They are constantly carrying the guilt of having left their siblings behind. They had to get out. They couldn't have survived much longer in that house. But by running away, they abandoned their pack to continue to suffer. And what if, they don't get the chance to make up for it. Cause their pack is gone now. They were the only one who made it out alive, cause they escaped. And sometimes, they wish they hadn't.
