A/n; I haven’t wrote for marvel in so long… anyhow, headcanons because I can and I want to
warning(s): both miles are stubborn in their own ways, mrs independent woman reader, slithers of mama Rio, a little bickering, mentions of social norms, pet names, rusty spanish, and language l
earth 1610 miles! who’s love language is acts of service, —as well as physical touch— in which it literally makes him go insane when you don’t let him do something for you. drastic or mundane you volunteer yourself everytime and he hates it
earth 1610 miles! who has to learn to somewhat bully his way into doing things for you… you guys sitting together during lunch and you forgot to get utensils? before you can even swing your leg over the bench of the cafeteria table he’s already up walking back to the cart that carries condiments, napkins, plastic packaged utensils and things of the sort
earth 1610 miles! where you both turn it into a little competition on who can help the other one more. you ask him to hold your phone so you can tie your shoe? that’s cute, meanwhile he fully gets down on one knee and ties them for you. Oh, his dorm is messy and he can’t find his notes he needed to finish over the weekend back home? meanwhile, your in your own room copying down what you you wrote from your notes filled with scribblings of words onto his semi empty notebook.
earth 1610 miles! who likes to do something to make your life a little easier no matter how big or small. your about to have a study session and you ran to the bathroom? guess who taking all the text books and notes out of your bag so you don’t have to rummage thought it? Well miles of course :)
earth 1610 miles! who loves you because you think about him and your actions really show it. he had to patrol and couldn’t watch the new episode of his favorite super hero, guess who recorded the who thing start to finish so he could watch it in his down time?
earth 1610 miles! who is in a healthy happy competition of completing services for one another with you because “Te amo aunque seas terco, mi vida.”
ミ★ミ★ミ★
earth 42 miles! who is quite literally wont take no for an answer. it got to a point where he would just start doing things for you instead of asking. you look like you’re carrying too many bags on your mini splurge at the mall? welp now you’re carrying NOTHING.
earth 42 miles! where you both grew up around the social norm of ‘the man should pay for dates with a woman’ and rather he knew it or not, miles subconsciously adapted it into his life. you on the other hand couldn’t call bull shit fast enough to save your life. however, while miles really did value your core beliefs he couldn’t really be bothered to break the habit. he wasn’t wealthy per say, but he had enough to simultaneously spoil you with things as well as help his mom with necessities.
earth 42 miles! who mutters a “watch out ma” when you even try and reach for your purse to pay for ANYTHING. total of $8.67 at the bodega trying to get snacks for your movie night? “I got it.” total of $78.92 after having appetizers, meals, and dessert? “I got it.” $250 to go get some self care done “I got it.”
earth 42 miles! that gets you so frustrated that you guys start to have petty arguments that mama Rio doesn’t stand for. yes you’re lovers, but she will still make you hug in the oversized, OVERSIZED, tshirt until you figure it out like you’re siblings.
earth 42 miles! who you have to learn just loves that way and if you want a change you have to force it yourself. the look he gave you when you came back from the “restroom” on your next weekly date having found out when he waived down your waiter that the meal was already paid for was priceless and so was the small twitch of his lips upward at the bright, proud look on your face.
a/n: in honor of —a very late— father’s day. i wrote this on my phone half asleep
warning(s): nanami is down bad, modern day (no sorcery), eventual nsfw, pregnancy, black coded reader, borderline yandere nanami… & reader, idk your both bat shit crazy leave me alone
down bad husband nanami who! quite literally worships the ground —you— his wife walks on and he shows it in more ways than one.
from materialism; clothes, bags, shoes, flowers, fancy restaurants, anything you could want to complete acts of domestication; helping you wash or take care of your hair, removing your makeup/doing your skincare when you didn’t have the energy, taking care and cleaning the house, cooking, anything you could want he gives it no complaints
the bare minimum he claims
down bad husband nanami who! was overjoyed when two lines came up —a positive— on the plastic stick —not that it was much surprise to him, having switched out your birth control for sugar pills—
pregnancy was a breeze other than the chaos your son was hellbent on giving you and your blonde businessman made sure of it
“honey, i really think you should take your leave of absence.” nanami hums sorting through pieces of beige wood and bags of screws, ready to assemble the crib he gently guided you away from putting together yourself
“ken… i’m barely four months.”
down bad husband nanami who! starts to work from home more to offer greater support and assistance when you enter you third trimester refusing business opportunities that weren’t able to be processed within the comfort of his home as soon as you were 27 weeks
it has nothing to do with the fact he loves to see you begin to nest more intensely; urging him to come do whatever you want in the nursery that he didn’t allow you to do yourself -which was anything to do with a ladder, tools, lifting, carrying, or straining— and kento didn’t dare move with less purpose to see you get huffy and snappy
and he sure as hell didn’t act like he didn’t hear you calling his name so he could see you waddle to the doorway of his office with a pout and angry brows
no of course not.
down bad husband nanami who! walked around the house shirtless for easy skin to skin contact when your son arrived, a spitting image of you he was more than proud to say.
kento didn’t hesitate to do anything you asked or give you anything you needed
it was your turn to get up and change the baby but you had just found yourself in a deep rest as the baby monitor crackled to life?
kento is turning down the monitor before you could wake up gently slipping out of bed and down the haul to the nursery —that the baby slept in for all of two days when you determined you weren’t he wasn’t ready and kento more than willingly built a bedside bassinet for him to sleep in—.
you internally crashing out when a select few members of both of your families come visit you all and someone keeps getting to close kissing your son?
kento is gently reminding everyone that while you both appreciate them loving your baby as much as you both did he would appreciate it if they only used mouths for talking
you need to take a shower but being away from the newborn gives you anxiety?
kento is more than happy to hold him in the door way of the bathroom allowing you to peak your head out of the tub and lay eyes on him with no complaints
down bad husband nanami who! grows more possessive protective of you during your postpartum stage
god forbid the mail man lingers outside on the lawn for too long conversing with you as you plant a couple of new flowers for the front garden Nanami is outside in a flash baby wrapped securely to his chest an arm snaking around your widened hips pulling you close to his muscular frame
down bad husband nanami who! lives to please in more ways than one
you comment on how his ass has been looking ever so lovely lately? —showing him your money was indeed where your mouth was by the slaps, pinches, and bites you’d been giving more frequently— he’s focusing on nothing but glutes and legs for the rest of the week despite the soreness
and when your hormones are all over the place who is he to stop you from sliding on his cock in the middle of the night?
“f-fuck im sorryyyy, ken. i’ve been a mess.” your whining rolling your hips against the firm muscle of your husbands pelvis
“honey, h-how many times do i —shit, sweetheart r-right there— tell you, you can take whatever you fucking want from m-me?” kento keeps his hips still letting you set the pace placing warm calloused hands against your hips his composure beginning to crack when he feels his tip nudging against the sponge of your walls making you grip him like a vice
“everyday, ken! every fucking day- oh my g-goddd!” The blonde could care less about the scratches your leaving down his bare chest or the fact he will inevitably have to change the sheets for the 4th time in a week (it only being tuesday) since you didn’t have time
“exactly, sweetheart. you take whatever. you. need. want me fill you up again? you feeling empty? missing the baby?” Nanami finally begins to buck his hips into you while you’re loosing your mind over his words almost as if he’d been reading your exact thoughts
you hadn’t been using condoms but even if you did… the package of a magnum was no match to the end of a thumbtack and the adoration of you and your husbands genes mixing to make a beautiful child. not that he needed to know that…
and neither did you need to know about the prime delivery of more sugar pills sitting on your door step…
“Barbie has a great day everyday but Ken only has a great day if Barbie looks at him!”
warning(s): reader is EVILLLL; female manipulator pro max (in honor of women’s history month), cheating(?), poly themes; sashisu x reader because i’m sick of only seeing satosugu, toxic relationship(s), modern day (no sorcery), this is a college setting/au, purple eyed suguru bc i said so, slithers of nsfw, idk you’re ur own warning…
manipulating sashisu! who was used to your…antics since you’d all been friends since high school, not really realizing they got worse since you all went to the same college
manipulating sashisu! and subconsciously realizing satoru was the easiest to get on board with whatever you wanted to do and when he hesitated —almost never— on whatever you were pestering him about he was almost immediately convinced otherwise
“i don’t know about that sweets…” he’d lean down to your height, making sure his chin wasn’t digging too roughly in your shoulder, with his calloused palms on your bare hips as you stare at yourself in the illuminated bathroom mirror of your penthouse —courtesy of the gojo family and their insane amount of money that they could practically wipe their ass with—
“whatever, satoru. i thought you understood me.” you’d shaken his hands off you about to walk through the threshold of the bathroom to the master bedroom before the snow haired man was grabbing your wrist, pulling you into his chest
“you’re right, i don’t know what i was talking about.”
manipulating sashisu! when you were mad at one of them giving the others all your attention
“F-fuck Sho, you make me feel s-soooo good.” Your moans filled the room entirely as the brunette lied her tongue flat against your clit, spelling her name in the sanctuary between your folds that made you grab onto her bangs while satoru gently took a nipple between his teeth switching between nipping and suckling at the bud
all while suguru chops vegetables with more force than necessary down the hall in the kitchen
manipulating sashisu! to buying you whatever you want exactly when you want it
“suguboo, can you get me this purse please?” suguru knew better than to look you in the eyes when you were asking for something, —not that he wouldn’t fold anyway— you’d pout your lip and bat your lashes and suddenly he couldn’t say no
“angel, you have bags in there still in the box with tags on them.” He hums trying to not peak from behind his hair that was kept down —kudos to you—
“Oh… okay” you’d mumble lip jutting out just the right amount before rising up off the sectional couch that costed more than majority of your peers rent
“…my wallet is in my jeans from last night, go get it.”
manipulating sashisu! into changing their appearance to your standards
“what happened was it dandruff again? I could’ve washed it!” You stare at Shoko mouth agape at her shoulder length bob cut, the once flowing brunette locs that tousled down her back no where evident.
“no, no! it was hot and it was getting in the way of clinicals and labs.” The brunette tried to reassure your nerves avoiding your eyes —that looked at her like she’d grown three heads at the salon— while you slowly shook your head in disbelief
“I loved that hair. That- that was my hair, Sho. I- how could you do this? How could she do this!?” You looked over your shoulder to Suguru and Satoru, and arm stretched out to the girl who stared at you wearily
“babe, it’s just hair, it’ll grow back.” She tried to gently laugh off the reaction making the white haired jock to wince while suguru bit the inside of his cheek.
“you’re back smoking cigarettes and you practically shaved your head!” your voice was short from a screech
“okay, come on angel.” suguru murmured guiding you to the bedroom, satoru hot on his heels
manipulating sashisu! to the point they start second guessing things YOU said/agreed on
“i mean i feel like we should just switch it up y’know? It’s not gonna be forever… we’ll still come home to each other.” Shoko clenched the cigarette between her fingertips a little tighter as she finished her reasoning for wanting to peruse open relationships. Her, suguru, satoru, and you were all in the living room placed randomly around the open space.
they all looked at you expectantly waiting for you to deny, flip your lid, curse them to hell at the mere idea, fuck until the sun came up
“Thats a pretty good idea.” you hummed, staring blankly at your grown out nails.
suguru chokes on his tea, brows furrowed; shoko quickly swipes a palm over the couch cushion to prevent a burn hole where she had dropped her cigarette; satorus pristine blue eyes twitch beneath his sunglasses
before any of them could speak up you were standing from the cushioned love seat dusting off your skirt and moving across the are with a few wide strides
“well, i have my evening classes to get to.” you hummed picking up your costly shoulder from a equally pricy barstool before exiting your shared home
“she doesn’t have evening classes.” suguru speaks up after a beat of silence, his nails digging into his palms as he stares at the door like you’ll appear from behind it.
manipulating sashisu! by keeping the small highlight of them on your social media but deleting every other post with the thought of them in it.
suddenly your stories were filled with videos of you —recently— with you hair done, lashes done, nails fresh, and eyebrows carved. Satoru checked his bank apps over and over to see when you charged his card. I mean you couldn’t be that mad if you were still using him.
It was brought to his attention that you were in fact not using him.
manipulating sashisu! by introducing a couple of new ‘friends’ a week that sickly looked nothing like any of them
“These are my roommates, roomies this is takuma”
“this is kento”
“this is toji”
“this is haibara”
“this is utahime”
manipulating sashisu! and being the straw that broke the camels back when they had made it out the house to one of the biggest frat parties of the semester
satoru and shoko were talking up a random cheerleader who seemingly had pom pom’s for brains as the brunette fought not to roll her eyes itching to light a cigarette, of course the snow haired jock didn’t falter one bit; he could flirt with a brick wall given the chance.
suguru stood close by, talking to a group of young men and women alike; they seemingly threw themselves at him and he struggled not to reach in his pocket and pour a alarming amount of sanitizer into his palms
you could catch the trios attention in any crowd. of course you could. however, their eyes weren’t on you but who’d you walked into the party with.
ryomen fucking sukuna.
the pink haired bastards grin was wide when his fraternity cheered for seemingly his presence overall
manipulating sashisu! when you lock eyes with purple, brown, and blue irises staring back at you. sugurus jaw clenches when you have the D1 wrestler bend to your height whispering something hidden in his ear, red eyes glance at the group boredly before he wraps an arm around your hips while you pull him into a crowd of dancing bodies
seeing your hips roll and your ass grind down on sukunas crotch made heat rise to their faces.
satoru was the first out of his seat storming over to the two of you before suguru or shoko could reach him. it happened in a flash; one moment he tugs your wrist pulling you off of the man and the next all you could hear despite the booming music was the sickening crack of satoru’s fist connecting with sukuna’s nose taking him off guard
the part erupted in chaos, sukuna’s frat members taking it upon themselves to join causing your raven haired boyfriend to eventually began fighting. you see some familiar faces of their own friends joining in as shoko pushed her way through the crowd ending up standing next to you as you watched over the brawl, bored. once you realized they weren’t going to kill each other you finally made your way towards the front door stepping over bodies that were struggling against each other on the ground.
the cool breeze of the night hit your face soothing your hot skin as you stepped onto the lawn. when you ignored the couples that were eating each others faces and practically fucking, pressed against the side of the house walls it was pretty peaceful.
manipulating sashisu! when the fight eventually calmed and they were of course, kicked out they saw your sitting in one of plastic lawn chairs that belong to the frat. suguru made no hesitation storming over towards you his chin modeling and new cut and his hair tousled.
“what the hell was that!?” suguru seethed, his brows furrowed, he was still sexy when he was mad you noted.
manipulating sashisu! as you tilt your head to look up at all three of them. satoru didn’t look to far off from him either a decent size bruise blooming across his pale cheek, all while shoko was unscathed; not opting in a fight between a half a dozen brainless jocks. —she would also never hear the end of it from gojo or geto is he even tried—
manipulating sashisu! when you raise a eyebrow, scoffing.
“i didn’t force you to to do that. i didn’t put a gun to your head and say ‘oh yeah totally start a fight with the head frat brother, IN HIS OWN HOUSE” you hissed standing heels slightly sinking into the grass
manipulating sashisu! when satoru laughed humorlessly stepping closer to your frame
“you knew what you were doing as soon as you stepped foot in there with him” the jealousy was radiating off him in waves, even though he was never one to quite hide it.
“you were the ones who said you wanted to see other people! i do it and it’s the world stops spinning?” your voice raised and the couples who were quite literally consuming each others features perked up at the drama.
“oh please, you’re one of the smartest people in our class ranking. you can tell when someone’s bullshitting you” it was true, they wanted to make you jealous and you didn’t let them, didn’t give them the reaction they wanted and here they were melting like putty between your fingers
manipulating sashisu! when shoko huffed out a breath noticing the peering eyes around you.
“alright babe, you won. we can finish whatever… this is at home” she gestured towards you and satoru who were standing nose to nose. suguru who pinched the bridge of his nose trying to calm himself quickly fished through his pockets for his car keys, beginning to inch towards the car; dragging satoru along with him. shoko cleared her throat while you glanced at her, rolling your eyes, and crossing your arms against your chest.
“i’m not going anywher-” before you could even turn away fully she was gripping you arm, staring dead into your eyes.
“get in the car, (+++).” her tone left no room for arguing, she looked like she craved for a cigarette. you huffed trailing behind your boyfriends, you fight to not let your lips curve upwards.
truth be told, you didn’t actually sleep with any of the people you had introduced them to. they wanted to make you jealous, why couldn’t you do the same? —even if you did take it a step too far—
while you did have your fun, the thought of sex with them while everyone was angry seemed like a real fun weekend.
pairing(s); simon riley x fem!reader, reader x toxic family
summary; You tried to keep it together to keep him away from it to not get attached but it only take one situation for you to come crumbling down reaching out to simon for comfort —angstober day;14—
word count; 900+
warning(s); age gap, sweetheart is her/your own warning, thinking college student reader so like early twenties and simon is about mid to late forties, arguments, crying, angst, kisses, pet names, mention of violence, simon abt to risk it all, and language
playlist; nothings new by rio romeo
A/n:—GIFs; @astrolux111 & @silenthqll— GIF does not determine race
Simon was up it didn’t take much to wake him and when he heard the footsteps approaching his flat front door he was up the handgun from his scratched wooden nightstand that he’d bought off some older man who he was sure had passed to the unknown by now
The rough knocks on his door frame were demanding and rushed as if the person behind the wood was on time crunch he approached the door the firearm clutched in his hand his finger taking no time to rest on the trigger his hand was on the nob before he swung the door open his eyebrows furrowing not expecting to see what was in his line of sight
Your eyes were red and puffy tear streaks stringing your face your hair out of place as well as your shifted clothes Simon swiftly setting down his defense on standing table next to his door grabbing your arm to bring you into the shelter of his home he checks over your body to find nothing alarming but the soaking wet clothes clinging to your body
“S-simon” Is all you can get out as your body racked with sobs you shoulders hunched and he wraps an arm around you littered with tattoos your face hidden in his chest covered by the cotton tshirt that was a little small on him your cold wet clothes transferring onto his as shushes you slowly moving you into his bedroom sitting you on his mattress slipping your drenched shirt over your head as you sniffle your head throbbing from the continuous tears and energy spent you didn’t realize you were dressed in dry attire until you were getting picked up and suddenly the weighed down fabric wasn’t overwhelming you anymore your legs wraps around the blondes torso lying your head on his shoulder you body still shivering as you felt yourself dip onto his worn mattress rubbing his hands down your goosebump covered arms
“Come on love what’s the matter with my sweet girl, hmm? Tell Si what’s the matter” Something triggers in you causing more streams of tears to fall down your face and you try to speak choking out incoherent words and sniffles simon rubs a hand over your hair pressing a kiss your forehead his brain screaming at him to to go punch the nearest punk out on the street because there has to be something, something major to keep you acting this way
“I don’t want you to leave me” You body wracks you chest feels like it’s gonna cave any minute you feel like your airway you’ll be cut off and your sound will be free from your body
“Sweetheart it’s gonna take more than a few tears to get rid of me, matter of fact you won’t be able to you understand?” You nod your head before your spewing everything weighing your chest down to the floor about you family and how they make you feel more down then you’d ever been without meaning to the situation I particular causing your weaker construction to tip over and collapse your siblings couldn’t keep their hands out of your things and this time it had did it you’d been saving for a new laptop for class it cost more than you liked to admit and your sister god you loved her but she was at the age where she couldn’t keep her hands off of thing your things to be exact and long story short your laptop was broken in your sisters hands you berated her scolded her it was the least you could do for the trouble she caused you
When your parents arrived home you expected them to finish the job rip your sister a new one she ran into your father arms rambling of how mean and what a monster you are and even after you told your parents about what she had done she’s barely get a slap on the wrist you were older you shouldn’t yell at the younger ones defending your honor and standing your ground got you yelled at a stinging mark on your cheek
“My h-head hurts” You whimpered after a moment of silence and it was true you didn’t know how long you’ve been crying for and your head felt like it was going to explode Simon sets you down on the mattress briefly your head still spinning and pounding in your ears he leaves and returns again two pain killers that look like a spec of nothing in his palm he sets and on your cheek gently prying your jaw open setting the drugs on your tongue before you swallow the he praises you for it and your realize how much of a all time low you are
“Come on sweetheart no more tears you know it’ll make it worse” This time you’re not sobbing from the pain your chest but rather the pain your head hiccups slipping from your lips falling apart in his grasp and he held you like he always will and as he always had
A/n; head canons of sweetheart and simon because you guys seem to like them and I don’t have it in me for a full blurb today —angstober day; 18—
warning(s); age gap simon is about mid forties r is in college so early twenties, angst, and language
older simon! who will break down the door to get into the locked bathroom after you didn’t respond to his previous calls just for him to get into the the room the air stale and ice cold while you sit under the freezing water the hell bent temperature that you enjoyed and he himself couldn’t stand under for too long nowhere evident in the room
older simon! who will ignore your shivering wet body against his dry clothes drying your form off while you shook like a leaf half lidded eyes avoiding his until your fully dressed and he places a sacred kiss on your forehead rubbing a thumb again you tear stained cheeks
older simon! who lets you rant/cry in his hold why he runs a palm over the crown of your head shushing you mumbling sweet nothings in you ear like “there you go love take your time” “tell Si what’s the matter” “sweetheart you’re gonna flood your pretty face if you keep this up” not the best person to expect a response from but a damn good listener
older simon! who praises you for everything you do big and small from passing your exams to eating a portion of a real meal
older simon! who hates seeing your moods relapse after you’ve gone back to your parents for not even a full weekend just to come back to him with tears in your eyes and a tremble in your sweet voice
older simon! who makes you layer up for cold mornings complaining about you “catchin’ a lurgy”
older simon! who persuaded you to stay with him for the weekend and promises to do something adventurous through the next there-ish days when morning came simon was up like usual his dreams stuck in the realm never leaving when he had any
older simon! who slips on your clothes during early mornings when you have no energy to even acknowledge the time of day you usually do just about nothing by yourself in these early moments except use the bathroom
pairing(s); simon ‘ghost’ riley x fem!reader, johnny ‘soap’ mactavish x fem!reader, kyle ‘gaz’ garrick x fem!reader, john ‘bravo six’ price x fem!reader, werewolf!soap, harp crow hybrid!gaz, dragon hybrid!price, wraith!hybrid (?) ghost, phoenix!hybrid (?) reader
summary; new moon, before, and diplomacy
word count; 5.4k+ | chasin’ chaos masterlist
warning(s); monster au, dark twisted themes, normal cod violence, firearms, knives, combat, pinning (?), poly themes, death, r call sign is flatline, blood consumption, eventual smut, kissin, and language
A/n: trying to post every 3-5 days… don’t quote me
You all watch as Soap sits on hind legs, attention directed towards the moon. He pants softly with his tongue slightly darted out, his thick auburn fur keeping him protected from the occasional winds of the night. When the moon reaches its peak the Scott howls with a carrying pitch loud enough to hear for miles pass base.
“Calling for his pack.” Price clarifies eyes pointed at You and Ghost with a smirk that was all too knowing. Gaz clumsily howls back at the call; the wolf's head swivels, his eyes shifted from their domestic green to a glowing teal, the whites of his eyes now pitch black. You don't quite zone in on the conversation the dragon and harpy have –something about sitting out due to his wing you were sure– instead you tilt your head at the shifted sergeant and he mirrors you. The interaction makes you hum before you see the captain making his way to the field; he stands with his knees slightly buckled and his arms spaced away from his sides. The wolf playfully growls and the dragon's tail sways gently behind him.
“Alright lad, be gentle.” The four legged hybrid doesn’t waste another second, sprinting towards his locked target with precision head first into his chest. Johns sturdy though, and doesn't budge hopping on the back of his neck.
“Not bowling me over this time, son.” Johnny is quick to nudge him off his being and the man lands on his back, quickly moving out the way as the wolf went to pounce on him. You and Gaz watch as Ghost jumps over the wall landing on his knees with a thump immediately catching his attention.
“Alright, Johnny. Show me what you've got.” The skull masked wearing lieutenant quips. The sergeant immediately takes interest moving in a position to pounce, not taking note of Ghost's palms planted in the cut grass. When he goes to jump onto the masked lieutenant he misses; the wraith uses his shadows to push him up in the air using the upper ground to stare down at the wolf. Simon doesn't expect him to jump as high as he does, neither does he expect your familiar sparks of energy to nudge the wolf away. The sergeant lands on his paws force making his limbs slide through the dirt before coming to a stop.
“Hope you don't mind, pretty boy. They'll pull something if you're too rough.” You tease and you're sure you hear both men scoff while the shifted hybrid playfully growls at you before dashing off of his back legs. You're quick to move out the way as he topples over Simon in result of your place. Not who he was focused on but he plays all the same; he licks the lieutenant's stomach pushing up the black jacket to get to his skin. Price jumps on the wolf's neck loosely wrapping his arms around the base.
“You two enjoying yourself?” He calls out
“You could say that.”
“In a rough patch.”
“Need a nightcap, sir?” Kyle questions while Price cracks his neck rolling his shoulders; he eventually strayed away from the field.
“Probably stronger than that, Gaz. Later starts tomorrow, Simon, Y/n, take the the morning off. I’m guessing you’ll need it.” He hums at the sight of both his lieutenants while the Harpy snickers. You’re rubbing your palm on the underside of the wolf’s snout and Ghost takes place at the side of his neck. The Scott licks at your shoulder; vibrating with hums underneath the skull masked lieutenants person, tail swishing up and down.
Eventually the captain and sergeant call it a night leaving the three of you alone. You make way to more scheduled area, finding stray piles of tarps and bug out bags to lie on. Your eyes avert at the night sky, connecting random stars to make odd shapes in the scheduled sanctuary of your mind; something you hadn’t done since before… You’re quick to shift your eyes to meet the gaze that burns at your temples before continuing your bidding at the sky.
“Spit it out” You tempt plainly, you have your phoenix mask swept over your face, its orange and red tones contrasting against the night. Others have trouble reading you but never Simon.
“The anniversary’s next week.” He prompts back, it’s more of a statement than a question; the wraith knows damn well it is, practically branded in his memory with a hot rod. You snort at the choice of words he uses, shaking your head in response.
“Just another day.” You shrug seemingly unbothered but he knew better. The way– your shoulders got a tad stiff before resetting to their lax position, the slight pause in your subconscious movement, the way your lips slightly part before closing. The tell tale signs he stubbornly refused to ignore.
“Think I haven’ been around you long enough to know when you're arsein’ me?” The skull masked lieutenant glares at the side of your face and you huff beginning to get irritable at his proding.
“Are you seriously doing this right now?” You hiss out returning the hostile look with just as much intensity.
“Tell me when's a good time for you then, love? Humor me.”
“Don't sta-”
You both suddenly break away at the sound of whimpering beneath you. Soap whines, lying on his stomach paws situated underneath his snout; he rubs his fur coated body against the both of you nudging your shoulders with the tip of his nose. Simon scratches behind his ears and you pat the side of his jaw. After a moment you part your lips to speak.
“Ghost-”
“Simon” He corrects you and you fight the urge to roll your eyes.
“It was a long time ago, Si. I've come to terms with it.” You lower your body to the ground using your shoulder to prop up your head. Simon has a distant, hesitant look in his eyes and when he averts his gaze you place a hand on his jaw redirecting his attention to your person. He huffs against your hand, a bit stiff before he settles into the warmth of your palm. You lean down to press your lips against the corner of his masked mouth; When you go to pull away he wraps a hand around your back pulling you closer to the warmth of his body. He lift a hand to his face moving his balaclava to sit atop of the bridge of his slightly crooked nose –result of years of it being broken and reset– his scared face is no stranger to you and even as you only see a quarter of its surface you could recall every scar that littered his pale skin. His lips meet yours and even though you can’t see it you picture the scar dragging from the bottom of his cheek to end at the the middle of his cheek.
You're both interrupted again and it humorous of how annoyed the wolfs growl sounds. He tugs the sleeve of Ghost’s jacket pulling the blonde back a few inches –not– enough room to squeeze himself between the two of you opting to roll on his broad back. You can't help but let out a chuckle at Simon's face while Johnny whines for your attention giving the best puppy dog eyes he can muster. The skull wearing lieutenant rolled his eyes as you silently cave rubbing your fingers up and down the four legged mutts stomach.
“Don't pout.” You tease a smirk on your face at the lieutenant whose frown seems to deepen as you called him out.
“‘M not.” He sighs for the umpteenth time as you all begin to settle, getting as comfortable as you could; trying to accommodate each other's bodies. Simon watches as your blinks delay and the rises in your chest become further apart in time. Johnnys already out, having settled on his stomach paws set underneath his chin. The wraiths not too far behind, –while no stranger to the absence of sleep– he’s not sure how he feels about the sudden exhaustion that overcomes him.
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Simon groggily peels his eyes open; scratching the side of his bare head, the blonde shaved sides prickling the pads of his fingers. His eyes dart at the sound of movement at his side and the lieutenant is quickly gone rigid. The brunette scott –returned to his human skin– is pressed against his side, a leg thrown over his. However what makes the wraith's feathers ruffle is the wolf's attire, nothing.
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“Lt.” You can feel his presence before you see him, slowing the speed in your step until it comes to a full halt. Your head shifts over your shoulder, your eyes piercing as you reply back with his call sign falling from your masked lips. While the brunette adores it, he can't help but yearn for the softened exterior of your eyes he remembers. You note the sergeant is more decent than when you left him, having opted to part ways from the two men in the wee hours of dawn. He grins with a tilt of his head, dark mohawk complying with it.
“Not ‘Johnny’ anymore?”
“Getting your lieutenants mixed up, sergeant. You're slipping.” You muse sarcastically moving to turn on your heel.
“Pretty Boy then?” He stops you again.
“No need to read into it.” You surrender after a while and it's funny how quickly his face shifts to one of a drunk —peely, embarrassed, and comical beads of sweat.
“Just assessing the damage from last night. My wolf is- I know he can be a lot.” He views you from the peripheral of his vision, arms crossed over his chest, fiddling with the fabric of his tshirt.
“He’s you isn't he? Oh, I see. Embarrassed are you?” You finally direct your attention back to his being, eyes slightly squinted with a teasing undertone to your voice. The sergeant doesn't seem impressed at the humor you seem to find in the situation. You can see his poking canines as he parts his lips to rebuttal.
“I'm allowed to be.” He practically huffs.
“Don't be. He was a real good boy.” You hum patting his cheek with a gloved hand, it throws you a bit when he takes your wrist into his.
“Deity-” He starts
“Flatline.” You correct, trying your hardest not to hiss it out through your teeth. You mind breeches pestering Price for a golden star. Though, through it all the scott never dropped your hand.
“I woke up smelling like you two. Am I supposed to read into that?” You stare at him for a second and he notes how much easier he thinks it is to read Ghost over you; despite your same shared preference of a mask the scott couldn't understand how the other three did it.
“Up to you, Johnny.” You state plainly and he wants to scream at the mellowness of your tone; a frown adorning his lips while his eyebrows scrunch.
“...Wanna learn something new about werewolves, ma’am? Taking back control after going full wolf- it's like surfacing after a dive. Things are murky sometimes but what my wolf did, I remember it all.” The Scott’s clawed hand adorns yours, not waiting for you to give a proper response. As he goes on he slips off your glove, orange glowing cracks kiss the surface.
“What he smelled, what he saw, what he tasted.” Your fingers twitch against your will when the brunettes tongue darts, out swiping over the surface of your palm, never breaking the eye contact you shared. Your lips part and before you could speak the two of you are on guard as a voice booms down the hall.
“Aircraft in landing zone. Personnel respond.”
“...We're not done here.” You mutter in passing, shoving your glove back over your bare hand.
Soap was so damn close.
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Ghost could smirk at the scene of you making your way out to the landing; Soap following in suit. You move to stand next to the blonde fixing him with a pointed gaze that he raises his hands at in surrender. Boots clank against the metal ramp leading out to the open. Two men walk out one with patches of tan fur running up his arm with spots of a jaguar; he could shift between two of something –you couldn't quite recall– his cat-like tail mirroring the pattern of the fur above. The other you couldn't make much of due to his gear other than his tail; a little more fluffy then his partner but less fluffy then Soaps.
“The corps wasn't supposed to drop you off until tomorrow” Simon hits the head on the nail, never the one for small talk, beating around a bush.
“We know- but our window has shortened. That cockatrice was a bad omen. We sent word of the change of plans last night” Alejandro, –you recall now– stands with his arms crossed over his chest. Soap somewhat sheepishly grins taking fault.
“Uh… we were busy. Full moon.” Rudy –it had to be– nudges the back of his partner's neck and if the look on his face didn't tell him ‘I told you so’ the mutters from his lips did.
“Can't be helped. I'm Sergeant John ‘Soap’ Mactavish. That's Ghost and Flatline.” The Scott, quick to break formalities pointed at the two of you with his thumb before shaking the pair's hand.
“Lieutenant Simon Riley and Y/n Y/l/n! Good to put a face to a name, so to speak.” You hate how eager he is at the drop of your name, like he knows you. Your shoulders tense and the tips of your fingers tingle.
“Real reputation you two have. Real mean sons of bitches even before-”Another thing you couldn't stand were reptiles and here was a literal snake in front of you; talking about you in your own base. Valerias in front of you quicker than you'd like. The python haired woman squints her faint green eyes at your person, scales take place up her arms in patches. Simon's shadows project up his arms more opaquely and the Scott swore he could see your irises flicker that burning orange.
“C’mon this way. Captain Price’s got more experience being the welcome committee.” The wolf tries to make light of the situation with a stiff chuckle, sweeping the trio away from the two of you. When he averts his gaze over his shoulder he frowns at the sight of your tense selves and it deepens when he catches your form slipping through the doors of base in the opposite direction with some pep to your step. Simon opting to stay outside however, unknowingly turning his back to the brunette's gaze rubbing his palm down the back of his neck.
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“Heard from Soap our new arrivals made a bad first impression.” Price hums coming to stand next to the skull wearing lieutenant who didn’t move to stand from his seated position. The wraith unclenched his fist and clenched them again in a rhythm. His shadow sat more stubbornly, traveling up his arms making their presence known instead of being the usual fly on the wall they were.
“He tell you wha’ I had for breakfast as well?” John shrugs, raising a brow, hands shoved deep in his pockets.
“Could ask. Would he know?” Simon looks at the captain through the peripheral of his eyes before directing his attention back in front of him. The dragon notes the slight dip in mask at his forehead signaling the scrunch of his eyebrows.
“…They knew who we were. Before.” The older hybrid moves to sit next to the wraith, one knee propped up. His wing twitches to expand around the back of the man next to him, his hoard. He silently gives into it.
“Contracts of silence only go so far. We knew people would talk. They’ve gone and made Johnny curious. He wouldn’t push either of you, you don’t have to tell him.” The brunette assures the blonde and he sighs.
“…No. I do. My part at least” It’s Prices turn to huff now a small smile on his lips.
“Deity’ll catch up. She’s already startin’ to poke and take interest.” Simon hums knowingly; John notes how the blondes shoulder just barely release pressure at the mere mention of his second lieutenant.
“Smoke with me, Riley.” It’s more of a statement than a question, as John holds out a cigar for the lieutenant to take.
“That an order, captain?” Simon take the brown lug in his hand
“I’m sure you’ll force me to make it one.”
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*about six years ago*
“Rare to see you hovering, captain.” The blonde hums —his sides are short and there’s only about an inch or two on the top— cigar pinched in between the skin of his index and ring finger. They both look down at the scene of you training your soldiers; –normals, that day– you were on track to be so fresh at the role but, they expected no less from you.
“Thought I’d come see your boys work through their drills.” The dragon drags the smoke, allowing it to settle in his lungs before letting it go. His wings sit strong on his back, the slight breeze he catches in them makes him think about taking a flight.
“You mean Vernon.” The lieutenant replied stiffly.
“He's lagging.” The captain confirms his observation aloud.
“I know. But he's the only one who came back from Roba alive. We’ll need him on strike” The blonde curates strategically as he watches you make the soldier run a lap.
“All logic with you.” Price grins around the tobacco, arms crossed against his chest.
“Well I’m not keeping him for sentimental reasons.” Ghost huffs; dog tag dangling from his neck while he leaned on the stone wall beneath him. He feels an itch in the small scar kissing his cheekbone, he doesn’t scratch.
“Try as you might, I know there’s a heart underneath that scowl, Riley.” The older dragon hums
“A sorry excuse for one.”
“Simon.” The lieutenant averts his gaze from the field to his captain.
“I’ll have to hang back on this one. Roba’s men had their gear fine tuned to ping my heat signature ever since our last run in.” The brunette hums averting his attention from the way your tank top begins to rise at the low of your back.
“And They ‘aven’t gotten hers?” The blonde questions tilting his head towards the field. John huffs out a laugh, shaking his head.
“There’s not much their tech could detect on a Phoenix. Her heat signature alone wouldn’t be able to be measured, make their system go to shit.” The lieutenant thinks it’s oddly fitting for you watching as you bark positions.
“Putting these boys in the hands of you two. So you’d better come back in one piece. That’s an order.” The clawed hand on his shoulder is warm and Simon doesn’t think twice before responding.
“…Copy that.”
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“Simon Riley. You’re a difficult man to crack. To think you’d break your own damn wrists to escape! I’d be pissed about the mess but hey- four less men I’ll need to pay, eh?” The light of the hallway is brighter than the fire of hell; it shines down on Simon’s body and he closes his eyes, head hanging low. The wooden chair he’s bound to is anything short of comfortable —his wrists are rubbed raw behind his back by the too tight ropes, his ankles are bound to the front post of the oak wood chair legs, and he feels the urge to throw up at the throbbing in his temple with the dried blood sticking to his forehead from an open wound.
“Ah well, you special forces guys are all nuts. But you know what they say about us chupacabras” Boots smack against the ground without much remorse, approaching him stealthily. Robs is truly a blob of flub, his stomach pokes over his pants sitting atop of his belt. Slim brown spikes —a shade lighter than his darker than his kept hair— placed in a line through the middle of his head, his ears are pointed at the tips, his thick bushy mustache starts at the top of his lips and wraps down to his thick chin.
“There's no hide we can't sink our teeth into.” The grin on his mouth is nothing but sinister, teeth sharp. Ghost can feel his breath on the crown of his head; can't find the urge to redirect his closed eyes, tilted towards the floor and before he knew it the presence right above his shoulder began to leave.
“Your man Vernon- he learned that the hard way. Was all too eager to squeal on you and your captain, once we really got started. But ah as far as rats go, not much of a prize.” The blonde lieutenant listened as the gruff man simply shrugged it off while nothing was simple about it.
“You though… Señor Riley… you're just a Human, mixed up in matters you’ll never understand.” Simon wants to throw up at the quick movement of his head; claws roughly slip into his scalp, the pulling of his hair making him grunt.
“What do you say huh? I'll cut you a deal, same as your girl. I let you go home and you squeal when I pull on your tail.” He tenses at the mention of you, he wonders if they've killed you since they split you up after trying to escape. They would all find a fate worse than death if –he could never see your eyes again, never could feel the warmth of the small smiles youd give specially to him and John, never hear how you defended their honor when they weren’t present to. He’d kill every last one of them.
“I'll even sweeten the deal- be good and you might even get a promotion, eh? Between the two of us, Captain Riley sounds much better than Price, no?” Simon is beyond trained for these situations, hell he's found himself in these situations it was a routine; Don't let them know they've broken you, don't panic –it makes it all the worse–, assume no one is coming for you, and keep your mouth shut. As the leader drops the hold on the lieutenant's hair he’s quick to grab his face squeezing with too much pressure.
“Well?”
“... I'd rather rip your tongue off and feed it to you” The tone of Ghost's voice could make the highest of killers shiver. It wasnt like he had an aspiration to do it, no. The honest, certainty could make the opposing man go rigid. Instead he huffs out a deep chuckle.
“That look in your eyes… I bet you really would. Crazy son of a bitch. Ah, well. That's what I get for trying diplomacy. Should've taken the deal pendejo. You're about to learn exactly why humans aren’t built for deputies between monsters.” Roba tosses his head, slashing his claws through the skin of his cheeks when he does so. The sting is nothing compared to the look in his eyes when he hears a voice all too familiar approaching the room.
“Get the fuck off me!” Simon struggles against his restraints as you’re dragged underneath your arms by two men who were all too rough; one being your own damn soldier. You look frail, your skin is covered in patches of dirt, they've stripped you to your bra –having the decency to let you keep your pants that are littered with splatters of blood–, and there's a cut reaching from the tip of your brow and down the skin of your lid ending at the beginning of your cheekbone. You're thrown to the cold stone floor given barely enough time to break your fall with your wrists. Your hair is wet, the curl toppling down your back at the weight of the water.
“Your girly… she's like you. I offer to make her a captain, just for a few tests on the wings. Let my boys do their research, didn't budge one bit.” The blonde curses something colorful at the chupacabra as his greasy palms slip to the back of your head, dragging you to be situated in front of the lieutenant. Roba nods at his men and Simon curses Vernon just as fluently as he pulls your arm to either side of you leaving your back open.
“You lay a finger on her and they won't be able to find all the pieces to you!” The leader laughs from behind him, walking like a lion stalking its prey before situating himself behind your struggling form.
“See what I don't think you understand is… If I can’t have what I want, no one else can have it either.” You feel the cold steel of the knife on your back and before you can register your bra is cut. The lieutenant roars as the undergarment falls to the floor. Adrenaline picks up as he tries to lift his body up and down to break the oak wood.
“How about your pretty bird… won’t sing no more eh?” Simon watches as your breaths begin to rise and fall too quickly; you were too young, too young to be a damn lieutenant, too young to be in special forces, too young to be here.
“Si.” His name falls from your lips with a gasp. Your eyes are cloudy and all of sudden there's a lump in his throat.
“You’re alright lovie. Look at me. Don’t take your eyes off me, alright?” He knows you can tell it’s an order by the firmness of his voice but, his tone is so soft with you. Always with you.
“Funny thing about the Phoenix, my friend. They have these freaky little… tendrils of nerves called queues. My men were trying to figure out where the hell they could be, your man here though… gave them an idea.” You don't know what you were expecting but it sure as hell wasn't a knife in your back. The scream is short of human; it wasn't a human noise, in fact. It served no purpose but to express its pain in all ways seeking out relief. You try to keep it together for Simon, you try not to scream –you fail. While the cold steel of the knife rips down the skin of your spine it's a contrast with the white blinding, burning, pain you feel. You can feel the connection from your wings fading, dying, and the panic in your body stills, they've broken you. You open your eyes and can see Simon struggling on his side against his restraints; the remains of the chair scattered not too far from him.
Tears flow down your face in a never ending stream and your hearing you didn't know you'd loss returns as Roba ends his assault at your tailbone. You don't feel anything; you don't feel how you’re lowered to the floor, the smacking of boots around you, or the slam of the cell door. Simon moves his ass, rocking himself until he was able to sit up and scoot to your fetal position. You shiver at the air on your back; the wound leaks crimson in a way that makes a mess of everything it touches, slowly mending itself together.
“You're alright, you're gonna be fine. They'll fix you up real good when we get home, yeah? ” You try to hold your anguish but the effort is fruitless. You shake your head, lips parting before they close again.
“I can't f-feel my wings, my w-wings.” His heart drops again at the pure pain in your voice that shakes your chest. You can't find it in yourself to stop crying and he doesn't tell you to. Something so sacred, the only thing left you had connected to your past life –ripped from right underneath you.
“I know lovie, I know. You're gonna be alright, we're gonna be alright.” The blonde doesnt know if he's reassuring you or himself; he doesn't care to find out.
It feels like ice poured down your back when the door is swung open and you’re ripped apart from each other again. This time just a few feet apart instead of rooms down. Your body feels like it knows what's going to happen before your mind does; you've seen this scene before. A new sense of adrenaline is found within you when you project the back of your head to smack into the soldier behind that wraps their hands around your wrist; you come to find that it's the brunette who betrayed your team and the crunch of his nose is all the more satisfying. You're not given much time to do anything before you're grabbed up again and you feel sick as the fanged leader's chuckle falls over the room. Roba reaches over to take a gun from another man behind you. He pulls the barrel back and it clicks as he walks in front of Simon –who's forced on his knees–, still giving you a clear view of the scene. His earthy brown eyes dart to you quickly as you shout then quickly switch to the being in front of him.
“Please! Roba!” You begged him. You begged to any God out there that could hear for help; Understanding that life was pain, another living being had learned. Your body aches as the men behind you tighten their grip as you thrash beneath their touch.
“Sweetheart.” The blonde calls out to you and your stomach drops at the pet name; he knows what's going to happen and a weight tugs at the organ in your chest. You're sobbing again –you can't remember if you ever stopped– while there's a hand that pulls at your hair keeping your gaze locked in front of you.
“Please. I'll tell you anything, please just let him go.” Begging must look short of pathetic on you while Simon sits there on his knees. You hate that look in his eyes, like he's signed his name on his contract of fate in black ink on a dotted line.
“It's too late.” It doesn't feel real when the gun goes off; your ears ring once more and you fight against the hold restraining you. You scream trying to get to Simon; they've actually done it, they killed him. The way his body falls to the floor so limply, so lifeless. The last time you try to dart out of your restraints the butt of a pistol meets your jaw, your vision is black.
*****
Wraiths are amorphous, semi-tangible beings born of strong desires for vengeance. Often mistaken for poltergeists or demons, wraiths are characterized by explosive bouts of anger and violence which manifest through black ‘smoke’ that cling and stains their skin.
Myths around the world depict wraiths as the great equalizer in a world where humans are comparably defenseless. Folklore depicts wraiths as humanity's last resort, a way to balance the scales against the might of monsters.
The risk of creating a hellbent killing machine would often deter mass pillaging and destruction and would send a message to those careless enough to leave a survivor.
In the birth of a wraith, myths highlight the necessity of being at a ‘graveyard’ when close to death, as the impending return to earth tricks The Reaper into complacency… only for the surely dead to go on living.
Simon Riley kicks at the roof of the box he's in, the wood eventually caves beneath the force of his feet. The thumps and slight moving of pebbles of dirt are unheard by no one near; he snarls around the white cloth wrapped around his head, situated in his mouth.
Wraiths are characterized by immense focus. Anger.
The lynchpin of their transformation is their stubbornness to die and their burning desire for retribution.
His short fingernails morph to claws ripping the ropes that bind his wrist; his teeth adapt fangs that snap the tension of the silencer in his mouth. Thick black streams of smoke crawl up his neck.
They are known as living spectres. Their bodies' death clings to with such passion, that even Mother Nature believes they are dead. More commonly, these beings are known by a simpler moniker.
He's a dead man crawling up from his grave, his eyes are unfound on his face clouded by the smoke that crowded them. His uncanny long tongue darts out his mouth as he huffs a puff of rage, fangs aching as he snarls.
“The one's death didn't want.”
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Locked in clocked in this whole chapter
Yay Ghost and Deity lore! (events that traumatically alter their brain chemistry)
pairing(s); simon 'ghost' riley x fem!reader, johnny 'soap' mactavish x fem!reader, kyle 'gaz' garrick x fem!reader, john 'bravo six' price x fem!reader, werewolf!soap, harp crow hybrid!gaz, dragon hybrid!price, wraith!hybrid (?) ghost, phoenix!hybrid (?) reader
summary; I’m sorry john.
word count; 4.9k+ | chasin’ chaos masterlist
warning(s); monster au, dark twisted themes, normal cod violence, firearms, knives, combat, pinning (?), poly themes, death, r call sign is flatline, blood consumption, eventual smut, kissin, and language
“Roba! We got a ping on captain Price near the perimeter” Vernon shoots through the door; a wary tone to match his sickly look. He watches as the chupacabra brushes his concern away, not even moving to face his form, a sly grin stretching over his mouth.
“Dragons and their Hoards. You scratch up their things and they'll walk straight into a trap.” The leader huffs a laugh while the soldier freezes at his backside. The brunette's voice raises, pitch going a few times higher than normal. The hairs on the back of his neck start to stand and all of a sudden the room is getting suspiciously warm.
“You lured him here? Roba, we’ll be annihilated, we're sitting ducks!” The man has seen his superior Price work in the field. The last thing he wanted to put on his todo list was to be on the receiving end of the Captains wrath. Brown eyes dart downwards to clawed hands; A vial of thick crimson liquid has found a temporary home in the hybrid's animalistic hold, –suddenly his voice dies out.
“...Is that blood?”
“My vampire friend, he's been experimenting. Us hybrids are all mongrels. Less concentrated offshoots of our originals. But with the right boost to the system… apparently, even a mutt can cripple a dragon.” Roba finally throws a glance at the tense man, shutting the brief case that held what must've been more viles; Vern can't really begin to care. The polo jacket collar around the girth of his neck is suddenly tight around as he swallows the lump in his throat. The leader's grin is short of sinister as he pops off the lid with a flick of his thumb.
“Get the boys packing and stay away from the courtyard. I'm plucking this thorn out of my side for good.”
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“I want it on record that I think this is a stupid Idea. You need to wait for reinforcements.” Laswell’s voice rings through the coms in Price's pointed ear. Pear colored wings stroke broadly behind him keeping him upright as he hovers over the court, his eyes scanning the perimeter a hundredth time over.
“My assigned ‘reinforcements’ went in with my lieutenants and never came back out.” He replies impertinently, eyes darting to one side even though no able body was there to receive the pointed gaze.
“Damnit John- I always hoped you'd age out of this one-man army shit.” The woman's voice rings out with a sigh dying heavy on her lips. The captain responds without missing a beat.
“They're torturing them, Laswell.” The brunette hisses like it burns him.
“...And if they're already dead?”
“Then they'll all burn.” The line dies as Price finally swoops towards the ground, landing on one knee with a thump before he stands to his full, hulking, height. He was beyond trained for scenarios like this. He’d be a liar if he said it was just because two of his best were on the line that made him take flight. It was more than that- you both were more than that. Your sudden bashfulness around him hidden under your scheduled nature; Simon's yearning need for his praise and reassurance wrapped beneath his tough skin. They’d burn hotter than hell if he didnt get to see it again.
“Roba! Let's negotiate.” His voice booms across the yard and he doesnt get to take two steps before an instinct –like a flatline with a sudden heartbeat– swipes at him harshly. His wings carry his weight as he propels up into the air, by a graze of hair missing the damaging embrace of his opposition.
“Captain Price… here for your team? You should've come with a hearse, amigo.” When the lower hybrid looks up to higher one out of two the captain can't help but cringe. Roba is twice his normal size; his shirt looks like nothing but rags on his body, the fabric torn to shreds against his skin, his pupils are blown taking up all of its iris, and one eye is squinted making the other look bigger.
“Manuel… What did you do to yourself? Where are your men?” The captain's arms still at his sides, his eyebrows furrow as he looks at the leader's drunken form.
“Hah! Im freeing us both from the distraction. No more fighting with human flesh bags! Monster against monster- how it should be!” The dragon must tire from the chupacabra's speech because he swoops down, a hand on the fat of his thick neck; pinning him to the ground momentarily snarling out.
“Enough! Where the hell are my lieutenants?!” Price's hair is ruffled as he bares his fangs, patience short of thin.
“You're not listening, captain. I killed them you fool! With the help of one of your own soldiers! Your boy got a bullet between his teeth and the girl… ah she was feisty- that one. My guys ran their test… gave her a little treatment from a friend of mine; vampire down in the states and her system couldn't stand it. You should've taken a bite of them while you still could. But don't worry. Ask nicely and I'll let you lick their blood off the floor”
Price can feel himself tense as Roba goes on. His eyes are wide and there's a permanent snarl at his lips. Hearing about how you ended, smoke extinguishes out from the corner of his lips and flames spark from between his teeth as a growl brews deep in his throat.
A crash rings over the courtyard and Vern swore he could feel the ground shake beneath his feet as soldiers around him call out worriedly.
“The dragon, he's here.” One states and the brunette cant be bothered to remember who.
“Keep moving! We’ll need these supplies wherever we remake camp.” His voice booms over to the remaining soldiers who aren't already loaded up in a box truck waiting for departure. One is quick to retaliate.
“Watch it puta. We follow Roba, not you. You might be his newest rat but he eats those for breakfast.” The man is eerily mad about something the soldier can't seem to understand and he huffs, lips turned downwards as the bulkier figure walks away from him with colorful curses beneath his breath. The brunette leans against the wall, his eyes falling over your slumped figure strapped to a makeshift operation chair. The scientists were sure to take every precaution including taking their test outside for reasons he does not know. You're bruised on every surface he can see but it's worse around the poorly done IV in your arm.
There's a sudden crash through the wall bricks crumbling inches away from the mans head. Black smoke-like shadows penetrate the chest of the soldier who cursed him before, they come back up his throat and out of his mouth as a finale. The black aura busts through the truck wall tearing its side open like it was anything but a sheet of paper. Low and behold stands the blonde lieutenant in all his glory claws torn into another private’s neck.
“You-uuU” Smoke crawls out from his eyes and mouth streaking up and down the surface of his face like veins. The lights are flashing for the soldier to run; the briefcase with vials of blood clenched tightly in his hold, yet as soon as he turns the lieutenant stands before him with a hand wrapped around his neck.
“Roba. Where is he?!” Ghost roars fangs bared claws digging into Vernons Skin, making him drop the case from his hold as he chokes out a location. His head slightly cocks itself at the noise, eyes fallen on the shattered shards of glass and pool of crimson.
“Blood… that's right… wannabe bloodsucker.” The wraith forces the man to the ground, a palm stretched across the top of his overgrown buzzed head. His face hovers over the mess, palms trying to push himself up and away to no avail.
“Get your fill… fucking pathetic.” Pleas die out as a sickening crunch rings in Simon's ears; having smashed the soldier's face into the glass, the blood splattering up at the pressure. The grin on his face falls as his eyes avert to your slumped form. The blonde immediately stands from his kneeling position trailing over to you with the drag of his feet; Simon cups your cheek, clawed fingers sweeping away the curls that stick to the tacky dried blood on your face that leaks from your temple. When he notes the needle in your arm he's quick to rip it out before crumbling to his knees, his head resting in your lap. He hears the roars of Roba in the distance and it quickly makes his skin start to burn with an aching rage all over again.
“He’sss DEAD- Lovie I swear it! I'll be back for you.” The lieutenant hisses long pointed tongue darting out uncontrollably as the ground vibrates beneath him. His gaze softens as he turns and looks at your figure; lacking a heartbeat and caving into yourself. No sassy remark, no small smile, no life in your gorgeous eyes. That fucker would die.
And he will die today.
Roba escapes the heat by the skin of his teeth, the flame licking his ankle as he moves to scatter away. Price's mouth is agape, the fire that escapes from his throat is broad and burly. The leader barely dodges the captain's landing in response grabbing hold of his thick moss colored tail using it to slam him beneath his growing figure. The chupacabra curses as a flame burns bright in his face momentarily kissing the surface; barely able to recover before the brunettes' claws break the skin on his cheek with a broad slash. Quickly flipping the hybrid –despite him being twice his size– the dragon rests on his hardened back, arms wrapping around the base of his neck in a tight headlock as he squirmed beneath him.
“I'm going to gut you like a pig.” John's claws dig into the fat of Robas jugular while he growls in protest. The captain's senses scream at him again but he's too slow to react before he’s knocked into a wall by a slither of pitch black smoke.
Shadows overcome Robas figure, yanking him back against the floor until he feels himself being lifted in the air. His eyes widen at the sight –or what he can recognize– of the supposedly dead man walking. With a swipe of his hand Ghost’s claws graze the skin across the hybrid's jaw.
“You're right… I do prefer it this way” The wraith grins clutching his fingers into a fist staring down at the man who took his life. Took your life.
Took. your. Life.
“What the hell was that?” Price groans brows furrowed as he begins to pick himself up suddenly still in his place. His lieutenant stands over the man who supposedly put him six feet underground, black shadows of smoke allowing him to hover in the air wrapping around his body like a warm embrace. They seep out of his eyes and mouth, crawl up his back to his scalp; they make a home of him.
“...Simon?”
“What's wrong- feeling trapped?” He chuckles out as Roba struggles beneath him cursing fluently.
“Demon… you're a demon! You son of a whor-” The chupacabra chokes on his words growls dying while bearing his teeth as a black fist wraps around his tongue.
“Simon! …What did he do to you?” Price calls and the blonde cocks his head to stare at the dragon voidly. The brunette's face is flooded with concern and maybe beneath his frown is a swipe of pity. He suddenly hunches over into himself groaning, the blonde clutches his head irritably; shadows shoot out in retaliation one side pinning the mutt to the ground the other knocking the captain back a few feet. John grunts at the landing, going to call out to him again.
“NO! He needs to die! Stay out of my way!” The wraith pins the dragon to the floor pitch black covered hand clenching around his shoulder; the captain swallows at the grip.
“Simon, stop, your hand!” He shoots back like the touch scorns him, going back to grabbing at his blonde locs with a pained protest.
Tommys a monster-
Touch her and they won't find the piec-
Rip his tongue ou-
Vernon killed
Captain
Dead-
Ill be back for yo-
Rip his tongue out
Rip.His.Tongue.Out.
RIP HIS TONGUE OUT
“Lieutenant!” The captain takes hold of his hoard, hands cupping either side of his jaw while he stares into bitch black eyes that suddenly fades. The shadows clear behind him –not to nothing but they simmer down and Price could cry at the look recognition in his eyes.
“... John.” The older man –of the two– sighs a small grin making its way to his face that's short lived as the roar of Roba rings from behind them before his figure is dragged away. Ghost is on guard subconsciously keeping his captain behind him despite the fact Price is right on his heels as they follow the claw marks left by the chupacabra.
“You took… everything from me” Simon hears you before he sees you and when he does his heart beats potently in his chest. Doll-like cracks litter your skin; they kiss up your arms and neck, going as far to stretch across your face. Orange hues glow beneath, shining through the crevices. Your hand is outstretched in front of you and there are sparks of orange and yellow that hold the blood drunk leader to the wall before they quickly fling him across the courtyard with the flick of your wrist.
“I'm gonna KILL you! How dare you?! How dare you take a man like Simon- my Simon! I'll be the last thing you'll see! I'LL KILL YOU DO YOU HEAR ME?!” Your screech rings across the distance; The iris of your eyes burning the same color as the sparks that wrap around your arms, gaze –feral– dead set on mutt in front of you. The hybrid snarls barely getting a head start to run at you before he’s struck by arrows made up of your energy; It's pure chaos. You direct everything you possibly could throw to his form without missing a beat inching closer with the strut of your feet.
The men- Your men can't miss the dark aura that surrounds you, the dark purple veins that swarm underneath your eyes, the fangs that replace your canines, all of it. Price calls out for you and he can see your shoulder stiffen and It could be comical how both his lieutenants shared the same sinister looks when they hear his voice but, he can see how you recognized him right away; your eyes flicker between burnt orange and their original color that sucked him in all those months ago.
Roba takes the open moment to topple over and before you could retaliate, shadows of dark smoke wrap around him, tearing through the skin and bone of his bicep –the limb being cut clean off from its source– throwing his figure a few meters away. When you gather yourself to stand in a blink, Price is in front of you, his eyes gaze deep into yours and you hiss as his hand wraps around your wrists.
“They killed him! They killed Simon- he needs to die! That fucker is going to die…Get out of my way!” You bare your fangs at the dragon before your world seems to slow.
“Lovie.” Your body turns instantly at the sound and there he stands in all his glory before you, alive and well. The lieutenant.
“Simon…” The veins beneath your eye retreat as you take in a breath you didn't know you were holding. You blink once and then again, you take a step forward and just like everything in your field of work it's short lived. John is snatched away from his position and slammed into the floor.
“Roba-!!” The chupacabra tears into the span of his wing, taking the limb from the brunettes back into his sharp teeth. Roba roars about blood and you cant see the look of connection in Simons eyes –you cant see the scene of how his hand coats in the vial kept blood while he smashed his former soldiers face into the glass, how he took that same crimson cover hand and slashed it across the chupacabras face, wrapped his hand around his tongue.– all you see is your captain on his knees, pupils shrunken, brows shot up to his hairline, and mouth agape.
You drop to your knees wrapping an arm around your captain's waist lying your head on his shoulder; you can feel Simon behind you before he follows in suit, one forearm tucked beneath the armpit of his superior the other bringing you impossibly closer to them. Without missing a beat Simon makes a shield like cocoon at your backs and you take hold of the foreign energy you feel without even thinking about it. The darkly pitched shadows are littered with sparks of orange and it shoots into the roof of the chupacabra's mouth through his head and another darts through his neck.
“I'm sorry John.”
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“Laswell…” Price can feel the woman's presence without looking at her; stretched on his stomach, he can feel the absence against his back.
“John-! John, you fucking overgrown lizard-” The woman drops the clipboard she was previously looking over, the brunette shifts his head to finally meet her gaze.
“Kate.” His tone stops her rambling and she isn't given a chance to come up with something as he asks, cold cut turkey.
“It's gone, isn't it.” He knows it is. He feels it is. He doesn't ask it like a question, he says it like a statement. But it doesn't keep him from confirming.
“...I'm sorry, John. They did all they could.” He doesn't hear anything else, burying his face into the pillow with a soft huff.
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“I should've chosen my words better. When I said I wished you'd stop your one man army shticks, I didn't mean like this.” The blonde continues when the dragon hums for her to do so; finally sat upright in the shitty medbay bed. He rolls his shoulder –the side one wing still sits behind–, shifting to the edge of the cot.
“Y’know what they say about hindsight- omph!” The hybrid falls to the floor with a thud when he goes to stand, knees weak. The operator rushes to the hulking man's side, slinging his arm around her neck; lowering him back to the edge of the mattress.
“Goddamnit John, Stop! You've just had a limb torn off and you've been asleep for three days-”
“Three days? Where's Simon and Y/n?”
“Kate?!” The captain booms, voice raising when she doesn't answer quick enough for his liking.
“You need to wait. You have to trust me on this- they're safe. I won't let anything or anyone touch them. But you'll be no use to them right now. ” She holds her hand out, brows furrowed as she goes on, never taking eyes off him.
“I lose one wing and now I'm useless?!”
“No. That's not-”
“Im still a fucking dragon Laswell, dont you ever forget it! Now move-” The dragon snarls, the shakiness of his knees suddenly no longer present as he stands to his full height. He glares pointedly at the shorter woman until she finally matches his tone.
“Sit DOWN!” His pupils shrink.
“He's on a brink. You know what he is now, you know how careful we need to be. And she's- John it's bad… you lost a wing- but she lost a set. Can't get her calm enough to get treated or even run tests on her new… abilities. What will they do if the first time they see you, you can barely walk on your own? Simon Riley and Y/n Y/l/n were my recommendations before they were yours. Wait, John. Trust me.” The brunette lets his head fall into his hands cursing beneath his breath.
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“How are they?” Steady on his own two feet the hybrid walks alongside Laswell down the scheduled corridor where you both seemed to be kept.
“He's sitting pretty as always. Your girly hasn't moved in days. He's got one way glass, she's got something bigger” The blonde tosses her gaze over her shoulder when he stops a low growl brewing in his throat.
“They put them in a cell?!”
“He asked for it himself actually. The brass were all too happy to provide. She didn't really have much of a choice; meds slipped up and she saw you… didn't like how you were looking and she damn sure let them know it.” She continues.
“They're on edge. As a human, Simon was Reliable. Got things Done. Even Y/n as a phoenix knew her way around and didn't need much to complete a mission. Now, we might as well be sitting on timebombs. You'll be their first and last attempt to bring them to heel.” Laswell crosses her arms over her chest fighting the urge to nibble on the skin of her fingers.
“To their heel?” The man scoffs.
“I think they'll accept anything that'll make them calm down.” She tries and soothes the captain's nerves, still not moving to sugarcoat anything.
“And if I fail?”
“They depressurise his chamber, he suffocates. She gets an iron bullet to the head.”
“Like choking out flames… Keep everyone out of those rooms.” The one winged hybrid steps to a door as the woman mutters a ‘copy that.’. Watching his figure disappear into the wraith's holding room.
“Simon.” His lieutenant looks short of wrecked; his blonde locs are tousled, shadows climb up the glass of his holding chamber and make a home around his limbs, the usual whites of his eyes are pitch black and his iris’ are a piercing white. He notes how the man doesnt look up until he calls for him.
“Price. …Shouldn't have come for me.” The dragon stops himself from frowning as the wraith drops his head once more, gazing at his feet. He can practically feel the regret radiating off his shoulders.
“Wouldn't have been your captain if I hadn't.”
“I would've killed him. On my own. It would've been clean. I tried to salvage your wing but he shredded the nerves, that fucker. …You came for me and you'll never fly again” The lieutenant continues when a blanket of silence falls over the captain's shoulders. Ghost doesnt look up until he hears the voice of his superior.
“...Took me four days to learn to walk again. I still stumble. When I see this wing in the mirror, I hate it. What good is one wing for a dragon? He should’ve just taken the set. Is that what you think?” Simon snarls in protest, standing to meet the Johns gaze as he slams the door to the chamber closed, not backing down from the blondes shadow littered form.
“NO!”
“You got him for me, Simon. I read the report. Straight through the brain and neck. You hit the artery dead on. Precise. Controlled. Because that’s you, lieutenant. You're in control.” Prices tanned fist rests on the chest of Ghosts; shadows fiss over his hand, taking him in yet barely grazing a hair
“...Not always.”
“Then trust that I am. Even one wing down.” The brunette turns on his heel propping the door open for the blonde to inch out and he does.
“I want to see ‘er” The older man sighs looking over his shoulder, biting the inside of his lip.
“Trust me.” He says simply leaving the blonde with his thoughts when he nods simply.
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“Get out.” Price hears you before he sees you but it’s not long until he finds you tucked into a corner, gaze faced towards the wall. His eyes immediately look towards your back; the fresh scar that trails down your spine peaks through the gaps in the hospital gown you occupy in. You don't move to look at him, he's not totally sure you know it's him.
“I'll be sure to keep you away from welcome duty, yeah?” You barely turn your head over your shoulder at the sound of the dragon's gruff voice. He doesn't smell like himself; the notes of aftershave, gun powder, and a good cigar are muffled underneath the smell of a sterile hospital despite him being in his normal gear –a weighted brace wrapping around his shoulder to get him accustomed to the imbalanced weight–.
“You shouldn't be in here, John.” The cracks on your skin he sees everytime you go in the field to battle are still there, unusually stubborn to leave. You're in a fetal position holding your knees to your chest, chin tucked into your arms and it pinches at his heart strings at how frail you look.
“Who else would be fit enough to come if it weren't your captain?” The brunette hums, lips tucking into a frown when you don't move to acknowledge him. He takes a step forward, a soft thump following underneath his heavy boot onto the cold cement floor before kneeling to your level; his rough, calloused, hands gently land around your wrist and he holds you there as you squirm beneath him.
“Stop John! I'm going to hur-”
“Look, love! You can't hurt me; you don't want to, so you won't. You know where to focus your energy and deep down you can control-” The captain follows after you in suite, standing to his full height when you do finally manage to rip away from him.
“You don't understand! You don't understand how it feels for something you can't control to grow in you every passing minute!” Your voice is short of a sob, your arms wrapped around your torso in a self-hug as you dart across the small room, anything to get away. John breathes in for a beat, listening to your raw voice that usually pooled like honey. There's veins crawling underneath your eyes and when you open your mouth wide enough he can see the sharp ends of your teeth.
“W-when he took my wings… he took all of me. I can't ground myself anymore, it feels like a fire spreading in me and the only thing I have to put it out is lighter fluid! I'm nothing, without my wings… I'm nothing.” You don't quite recognize when you start to cry until you can't stop, your shoulder wrack with sobs and exhaustion. There's a dull ache in your head, a plethora of things leading up to the factor. Your ears ring and you know your senses are dull as Price makes two broad steps across the room to reach you. His arms engulf you whole and you allow your figure to fall into him.
“You're more than anything. There’s no way anyone can convince me you haven't hung the stars in the sky; so I know not only as your captain, but as your suitor… that you'll overcome this and I'll be there with you, every step.” The dragon's chin is tucked into your head while his shirt catches the overflow of your tears; he takes your chin in his clawed hand, tilting your head to meet his gaze. He never takes his eyes off you; maybe if you looked in his eyes hard enough you could see how much he meant it.
“What if I can't do it?”
“Then I'll still be there, watching you make constellations connect.”
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*present day*
“You arent askin’ for permission so I won't give you any. But you know where I stand and we both know going cold turkey isn't working long term.” Price adverts his gaze to Ghost, his mask hiked above the bridge of his nose as he huffs in a breath of tobacco; his gloves are absent from his hands, shadows crawl up his forearms fading out at the peak of his elbow. The dragon's lips inch upwards around his lug at the sight.
“So what, I should let my hair out and frolic?”
“Always thought you were the spitting image of Julie Andrews.”
“Fuck off.”
“She's sharp, Simon. Picks up on things. You know and I know that better than anybody. And Johnny-” The brunette gathers himself up, crushing his cigar underneath his boot when he stands. The blonde finally looks to his superior questioning his choice of name for the mohawked sergeant.
“-Mactavish doesn't take kindly to people making decisions for him. Give it a chance.” He rebuttals sassily before continuing on turning on his heel to depart.
“You should take your own advice about Y/l/n.” The paler man of the two calls out stopping the tanner one in his tracks; he grins softly, gazing over his shoulder.
“Am I that transparent?”
“You've always had your favorites.” The skull wearing lieutenant pulls the black cloth over the remaining open surface of his face, not moving to look towards the captain.
“Don't pout, not after the conversation we just had. You know she's always been a different situation. I know how I'm going about the pup licking at her ankles but, seems you need more time to debrief.” John hums, fingers pushing his unbuttoned collar even more open before the pads of his fingertips graze across the mate mark on his collarbone. The blonde itches to touch his own at his shoulder blade.
“There's a meeting at 07:00 tomorrow, be there. And make nice with the vaqueros .” The dragon continues on his journey while the wraith grunts in response.
He’d see about that.
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posting every 3-5 days she says🌝
forgive me my shayla’s 💔
the semester is over and i can breathe again
i think i’m gonna explain lore down here in the next chapters
umm don’t we love Simon, Price, and Deity’s love story ^.^
my hyper fixation is chasin chaos right now i feel like i can’t write anything else >:(
i think this chapter took me the shortest amount of time despite being one of the longest so far
