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the-raindeer-king · 2 months ago

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Safe

Based off this

Poly 141 (with a focus on Price x Gaz) Omegaverse, angsty with a happy ending! Enjoy my lovelies!

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Kyle can’t recall exactly when it started: this itch beneath his skin. Maybe it had always been there, dormant until the perfect moment. Or maybe it had just been a recent development, a side effect of his medication. Or maybe… no. He knows exactly when it started, and he knows exactly who’s to blame for it.

John Price.

Maybe blaming the alpha is unfair. He might not even know what he’s done specifically to upset Kyle, but the omega doubts that. Price doesn’t do anything unintentionally, and surely he’d have seen this coming when he built the team - the pack.

Using heat suppressants and scent blockers had always seemed like a good choice. Kyle didn’t want his secondary gender to get in the way of his job, didn’t want to be overlooked just because he was an omega. And he stands by this decision. He wouldn’t have made it this far in his career without those two prescriptions, and he doesn’t regret using them. He doesn’t regret using them…

Right?

No. No. He doesn’t regret it. Being treated like a beta is what he wanted. Omegas tend to get overlooked in this field, shielded from anything considered “too difficult”. Sexist beliefs that society has clung to for far too long, and Kyle refused to let it stop him from doing what he wanted. So, then why does he feel like this?

This bubbling, itching feeling beneath his skin, emotions he can’t name threatening to pull him out to sea, threatening to drown him if he doesn’t get a grip on himself. And all the doctor had to say was to stop using his suppressants. But Kyle already knows that won’t fix the problem. The only way to fix this is to bury himself in the scent of -

“Gaz!”

The hand on his shoulder makes the omega jolt in his seat, dragged out of his thoughts. He blinks, eyes darting around the empty meeting room before turning to look up at Price, worry written all over the alpha’s features.

“You alright? You’ve been sitting here for almost five minutes,” Price asks, hand sliding from Gaz’s shoulder to the nape of his neck.

Gaz immediately goes tense, fighting the urge to whine. Fighting the urge to lean into Price’s touch, the urge to submit to this feeling that sits below the surface of his skin. But there’s so many reasons why he can’t do that, and instead, he scrambles out of his seat, away from Price.

“Sorry, sir. Just lost in thought,” Gaz replies, failing to hide the panic in his voice. But he’s out of the room long before Price can say anything else, missing the way the alpha watches him with a worried expression.

It’s in this scrambling panic that Kyle doesn’t realize where he’s going, how fast he’s moving, focused solely on putting space between himself and the aching feeling that always settles in him whenever he’s around Price. He ends up crashing into someone else, nearly knocking them both down if not for Ghost’s reflexes, the larger omega grunting as he catches Kyle.

“Easy, Sargent,” he grunts, one arm wrapped around Kyle.

The smaller omega shoves himself away from Ghost, who lets him go willingly. Whatever’s going on, pushing Kyle isn’t going to help.

“I’m fine. I’m fine,” he forces out, running a hand over his face.

“Ye don’t look fine,” Soap pipes up, peeking around Ghost with curiosity in his eyes. Both of the omegas are holding a pile of blankets in their arms, the scent of Price and Nik - the two alphas in the pack - heavy on the fabric. It makes Kyle’s nose twitch, and that whine starts to build up in the back of his throat again.

He doesn’t understand how Soap and Ghost can both be just… fine with presenting as their secondary genders. Neither of them seem bothered by the prejudice or the expectations. It probably helps that they’re both built like a brickhouse. And while Kyle’s not dainty by any means, he’s built leaner than the other two omegas.

“Do ye want us to go get Price?” Soap offers, taking a small step forward. The blankets in his arms shift, scent of the alphas filling the air between them, and Kyle’s hands curl into fists to stop himself from reaching out, from grabbing the blankets from Soap.

“No!” Kyle snaps, harsher than he meant it to sound. For the first time in a couple of months, he’s grateful for his scent blockers. Otherwise, the hallway would reek of an omega in distress, and he can’t bear that kind of embarrassment right now.

Taking in a deep breath, he exhales shakily before continuing, quieter now, “No. I don’t need…” Another sigh, a step backwards. “I’m fine. Think I’m gonna… go lay down.”

He’s already making his way back to his room before the other two can argue against it.

***

This feeling only grows worse over the next couple of weeks. He can’t be around Price or Nikolai very long, antsy and desperate. And he can’t be around Ghost or Soap either, territorial and snappy. It’s turning into a bigger problem than any of them care to admit, and Price is ready to put an end to it.

“Careful, solnyshko, we do not want to push where we’re not wanted,” Nikolai croons as they settle for bed. Simon is settled between the two alpha, face pressed against Nikolai’s neck while Price rubs his back. It’s been a rough day for the omega, and he wanted comfort, despite the conversation going on around him.

“He doesn’t have a bloody choice. Been disrespectful and bratty all fucking week,” Price shoots back. If it were up to him, they’d drag Kyle into their room and just force him to accept what his body wants. But they can’t risk him going feral. The omega’s already teetering on the edge of something, mentally and emotionally, and they don’t want to make it worse.

“Hmm…” Nik hums for a moment before turning his attention to Simon, gently nudging the omega. When he gets a grumble in response, he asks softly, “What do you think, zaychik?”

“Think you need to ease ‘im into it,” Simon mumbles out, leaning back just enough to look at Nikolai. The omega blinks slowly, sleep pulling at him. He yawns softly, before adding, “Or jus’ hold ‘im down. I don’t fucking know.”

Nik huffs softly in amusement, running a hand through Simon’s hair, nails scratching against the omega’s scalp. He lets out a rumble of approval at the way Simon melts against him. “We will not be holding anyone down,” he says, although the alpha would be lying if he didn’t admit that the idea was tempting. “Gaz is our packmate. We will respect him.”

Price snorts, settling down in bed behind Simon, one arm slung over the omega. “Better off bending him over my knee. Teach him some manners,” he huffs, swatting at Nikolai when he pinches him.

“I’ll bend you over my knee,” Nikolai threatens, but there’s a lightness to his tone that makes Price laugh, tension bleeding out of the room as the two alphas relax into the bed. There will be time to worry about this in the morning, to figure out how to help Kyle whether he wants it or not.

***

It starts simple. Blankets left at Kyle’s barrack door, saturated in Price or Nikolai’s scent. Sometimes both. Sometimes with Ghost or Soap’s as well. At some point, someone sneaks in a giant teddy bear, but it has all four scents on it and it’s impossible to figure out who did it. Not that it really matters. Kyle’s finally starting to put together a proper nest, and it helps soothe the itching beneath his skin.

He’s been going without his scent blockers for the last week as well, a small attempt to help. And when he can’t find them, seemingly having gone missing from his room, he decides that maybe it’s for the best, unaware that his naturally sweet scent is driving all four of his packmates crazy.

However, the itch doesn’t go away. After a few days, it only seems to get worse. He has to stop himself from snarling every time he sees Ghost cuddled up to Price, or Soap receiving affection from Nikolai. It’s so bad that sometimes he gets upset seeing Soap and Ghost scent each other. There’s no way that they’re all intentionally displaying more affection in front of him, but it certainly feels that way and Kyle’s not sure how much more of this he can handle.

Lucky for Kyle, he doesn’t have to wait very long.

Recruits. Stupid, idiotic, bloody recruits. Too fresh faced to really understand what they’re signing up for; cocky morons with veins full of hormones and a head full of idealistic heroics. And somehow (thanks to Ghost), Gaz is stuck watching over training. He shouldn’t have agreed, but something about being called ‘Price’s favorite’ had him feeling far more agreeable than it should’ve.

One of them, an alpha who’s name Gaz can’t bother to remember, is being a showoff, flexing at any given opportunity and puffing his chest out, showing off for the omega Sargent. It’s obnoxious, watching how hard he’s trying to impress Gaz, and it’s kind of funny how uninterested Gaz is.

There’s only two alphas that Gaz is interested in, and he can feel the weight of Price’s stare from here.

“Sargent Garrick!” Private Show-off calls, missing the way Gaz tenses up as he approaches. The private smiles, scent heavy in the air between them. While it’s not a bad scent, it still makes Gaz scrunch his nose up.

Everything happens quicker than Gaz can process it. The recruit’s hand reached out for him, something about fuzz on his uniform, and Gaz is swinging his leg around, knocking the recruit’s feet out from underneath him, snarling and snapping until -

“Garrick!”

Price grabs him by the back of his shirt, yanking him away from the recruit. The alpha snaps orders at all of them, but Gaz can’t hear anything over the blood rushing in his ears, and it’s not until Price gives him a rough shake that he realizes he’s even talking to him.

“My office. Now.”

The walk there is silent, save for the sound of their boots against the floor. It’s been a while since Gaz has been reprimanded, usually on his best behavior while they’re on base. It’s really just a bunch of technical, bureaucratic bullshit, but he knows the song and dance and can play it well. Usually.

For a moment, Price doesn’t say anything, just stares with a clenched jaw and stern expression. Without a word, he grabs Gaz by the arm, dragging the omega to the couch in the corner. It’s warm, a blanket forgotten by one the other omegas draped over the arm. And Gaz doesn’t fight it when Price manhandles him into his lap, face shoved against the alpha’s neck.

“Don’t know what’s gotten into you,” Price mutters, one hand holding Gaz’s head, the other splayed across the omega’s lower back. “You’re better than this.”

Kyle wants to snap at him, scream that it’s the alpha’s fault. That he wouldn’t feel like this if Price would just stop. But… that’s not really the issue here is it. Whatever’s wrong, it’s all with Kyle. Suppressed instincts and hormones and heats - it’s all dying to come out, safe in the hands of Price and Nikolai. If Kyle would just let it happen.

The omega sighs softly, practically melting into Price’s embrace. He nuzzles his face against the alpha’s neck, taking in a deep breath of Price’s scent, something warm and smokey and quintessentially Price.

“... been fighting my instincts, sir,” Kyle admits quietly. Growing up as an omega had its own drawbacks, but being a male omega seemed to make it twice as hard. Yet another reason Kyle had been so insistent on taking his suppressants. But now? Now he just wants to stop, wants to willingly fall into Price’s arms, trusting the alpha will catch him.

“Don’t have to do that anymore. Not with me, or Nik, or the others,” Price reassures him, his hand slowly sliding up and down Kyle’s back. “You’re safe here. With us.”

Kyle whimpers quietly, trembling, but he knows he’s safe. Knows that whatever baby steps the pack will have to take before he’s ready to fully integrate, they’re all more than willing to work with him. And he knows that in due time, when he stops taking his suppressants, when he has his first heat in years, there will be two alphas and two omegas more than willing to help him through it.

#call of duty #kyle gaz garrick #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #john price #nikolai cod #omegaverse #call of duty fic #cod omegaverse #john price x kyle gaz garrick #pricegaz #nikprice #nikpriceghost #poly 141 #the divider is supposed to be a butterfly hopefully that came out right lol #and hopefully you guys enjoy!! :)))))#gaz is a stubborn brat but it's fine. just needs a firm hand that price is willing to deliver #i think nik tends to spoil the omegas because thats how he was raised. maybe i'll dive into this later

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jesncin · 3 months ago

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I'm known for my Superman fancomics, but Martian Manhunter truly is my favorite superhero. Not because J'onn is better written or anything (he's very much underutilized and flawed as a character) but because the way his character evolves really speaks to me.

Alien invasions, alien body snatchers, alien shapeshifters? All of that came from the American fear of immigrants. Foreigners "invading" your home, "stealing" your jobs, marrying into the country, wearing clothes to assimilate into American society? Not expressing themselves the "right" way, all this so they can "plant more of their seeds" on the quest for "world domination". Horrifying right.

A character like Martian Manhunter is clearly built from these fears, but the incredible thing about how his character evolved is how he became a story of empathy. So much of modern J'onn stories are about his fascination with human kind and his desire to understand them. This narrative was further strengthened by Black creatives- especially Carl Lumbly (bringing his immigrant experience into his performance of J'onn in Justice League) and David Harewood (bringing conversations of racism to the forefront in his version of J'onn in CW Supergirl).

The alien who doesn't pass as human the way Superman does and has to shapeshift into layers of identity to be passable, still picks a marginalized form because he identifies with it. Personally, I deeply relate to being the outsider even among marginalized spaces and having to put up so many masks to pass as some nebulous norm. Being less palatable. The unfeeling alien trope meant to terrorize people in the Cold War days? Well when J'onn struggles expressing himself in a way normative to Earth, fans identify with that feeling of alienation as a form of neurodivergence. "He's just like me!"

All this to say. Absolute Martian Manhunter simply isn't doing it for me. Yes the art is stellar. But the "wacky sci-fi" aspects of J'onn aren't why I love him so much. I actually don't care about John Jones being some government white guy feeling alienated and described as a "martian" from being a workaholic or whatever. All this feels like a nothing burger step back from the narratives built about J'onn. And in the larger meta sense, an insult to the Black creatives who brought the most endearing aspects of J'onn's character to the forefront.

#ramblings #martian manhunter #jesncin dc meta #i know camp is the industry darling among fans rn but J'onn is my fav guy ever. I am not impressed.#it just dragged for too long and didn't deliver anything interesting to me as a martian fan.#i was far more excited over abso wondie and bats initially but mm didn't catch my attention. i'll still read it obviously but.#sigh. abso line really isn't doing it for me. i don't actually think the line is very creative or political.

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