#poly!task force 141 x reader

[cas-backwards-tie]

Chapter One: News Crashing

Poly!TaskForce 141 x Omega!Reader

The Omega Pack Plan Masterlist

Summary: A change in procedure around base causes you to spiral as your world comes crashing down. There's only one way out of this and it starts with telling the truth.

Words: 4.4k

Warnings: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Anxiety, Existentialism, Misogyny, Dismissive Attitudes, Angst, Rage

Mentions of: Medication,

A/N: Honestly, I'd been inspired by a few series (Standard Emergency Protocol and Pantry Solutions) I've read those and it caused me to want to write my own A/B/O COD AU, so I started this as a sort of funny fic awhile ago. I'm haven't entirely plotted out the whole story, but I have some ideas for the first few chapters. I was finally inspired to finish and post it because @cringeycookies liked the snippet I posted in a wip tag game. So thanks to everyone who inspired me, and a special thank you to @penelopepine for helping me with the dialogue and Price's reaction as I try to begin writing for them.

"I'm sorry, Ma'am," the nurse responds, "we're no longer authorized to refill suppressants of any kinds for any purpose." With a push of the empty orange pill bottle back across the counter in your direction, she offers you an ugly forced smile.

"Is there really nothing we can do?!" You complain incredulously, "Nothing at all? What am I supposed to do with this?!" Taking the emptied bottle into your hands, you stare at the nurse with widened eyes and a wild look.

"There is no 'we'..." she rolls her eyes in response, focus returning to the papers before her. "But if you insist, you can always bring it up with your CO, or the Base Commander." She scribbles something out on the page, but you can hardly focus when your world is virtually crumbling apart around you. "Now if you don't mind, some of us actually have work to do around here."

Still stunned, you can't help the way your breathing picks up as your heart begins to race. About a month ago now there was a base-wide meeting where they'd finally cracked down and implemented a new program the government is trying out: OPP. The Omega Pack Plan. While it's uncommon for Omegas to even be recruited into the military to begin with, such a thing does exist. Regardless, the Base Commander gathered everyone in the Auditorium for a presentation to talk about the new program and how the army would implement it into the troops. Luckily, considering you're on an elite Task Force, it doesn't apply to you. At least... it didn't.

"What the hell is this?!" You yell, tossing the orange bottle in his direction.

He'd heard the stomps all the way down the hall and smelled you coming, so he's neither surprised by your appearance, nor startled by the toss of the bottle. John swiftly catches it in his hand as he looks up at you. "What?" He inquires, finally glancing down to examine what he's caught. "A pill bottle?"

"Captain, it's empty! They won't refill it- I can-"

A groan tumbles past his lips as he drags a hand down his beard. "Look, Panther-" referring to you by your callsign, interesting move. "There's nothing I can do, it's over my head now. I wish I could do something, but I can't." Sitting back in his leather chair, Price places the bottle on the desk; a faint rap of the plastic hitting the wood is the only sound between you momentarily before you hurriedly shut the door.

Panic begins to flood your system as you're not sure how to handle this. It's your turn to freak out. You know how this goes, you know the story now; ever since they'd implemented and dispersed the Omegas into the troops, they'd started implementing them into the Task Forces, and now they have to do so with the One Four One. Fingers curling in and out of shapes as you try to process your next move, you speak before you can even begin to plan what you're going to tell him.

"I- I'm- I..." You're pacing his office now, the heavy gaze of your Captain upon you as you try to prevent yourself from hyperventilating. The thing is, you're usually good with pressure- really good. It's your job to be good. It's just... this is different. This is your life, your livelihood at stake, the livelihood of all your future generations to come.

A sigh resounds throughout the office before you hear the low timbre of his voice. "Dove," he calls out with a gentle tone, "I want you to take a deep breath for me. Alright?" With the calm and even sound of your Captain's voice and the assured look on his face, you comply. Exhaling the last of your breath, you close your eyes and focus in on the deep intake of air through your nose. With the parting of your lips you slowly release it before giving yourself a moment.

When you open your eyes he gestures to the seat before his desk, though you know he won't take offense if you decline. Hesitant, one hand finds its way to the other, wrapping around your arm as you listen to him speak. "Now, can you explain what has you in this state? I assure you that there's nothing that can't be dealt with." You want to trust him, you know him--John Price--your Captain. He's always had your back, always made sure you felt comfortable in the Taskforce, always made an effort to check on you after things got rough.

You nod. Licking your lips, you search his blue eyes as you tentatively take the seat across him.

"Whatever it is, we'll deal with it, alright? I can guarantee you that unless you're trying to tell me you're an Omega, nothing you say is going to shock me that warrants the amount of panic you're putting yourself through," Price chuckles. He's obviously joking, trying to break the tension with humor. Lips drawn upward into a small smile, the Captain stares at you expectantly.

"What if I am?" You whisper, eyes unable to tear from his visage as you try and gauge his reaction. Unexpectedly, silence fills the space between you and feels deafening in the small space. The growing comfort of his office these couple of months now feels like a cage you're forced to stay in, under watch, as you stare down your superior on the brink of a battle to the death. And that's what you do. His blue eyes bore into yours, skeptically shifting between your left and right as he seems to try and get a read on you.

All of the sudden you jump at the smack of his hands hitting the desk in front of him. He laughs at you.

He's laughing at you.

And you're sitting there with your guts spilled out, dread eating away at the pit in your stomach... and he's laughing. It feels like forever is passing you by as you stare at him in shock, this moment between the two of you frozen in time as nothing else persists.

"I understand what this was now," Price explains, still chuckling to himself as he shakes his head. There's a warm smile on his face that feels eerie considering the dire context of the situation at hand. "You got me! I fully believed you for a second there, too."

Eyebrows furrowing in dark realization, you can't help but stare at him wildly. "Wha-" You begin to question him and his line of thinking, but he cuts you off.

"This was all a prank, right? The bottle, the hysterics- you really outdid yourself, Sergeant." Leaning back in his chair, he props his ankle up on his other knee. "Because let me tell you, this was good. Better than anything Soap's cooked up in awhile. Did you come up with it yourself?" There's a cheeky grin on his lips. "Ah, I know you did."

Lips opening and closing like a fish out of water, you sit in the armchair across from him pale with a dazed look across your face. He doesn't actually think that this was...

"Well, with your little triumph in your pocket, I say we get back to work, yeah? I've got some new leads from MI6 that've just popped in." With that, the man stands from his desk and rounds it. "Garrick should be back around Tea. I'll see you in the Command Station then," he informs you. It's then that he passes by, a genial clap on your shoulder while he's at it.

Left stunned in silence, you can't help but grit your teeth, consequentially pronouncing your jaw as anger ebbs through your bloodstream. Breath getting heavier, you can't help but loathe the meeting tonight. Your Captain might be satisfied with the conversation, but all you feel is discouraged. He's abandoned you, left you alone in his office with a humiliating sense of betrayal and shattered trust. Almost like you hadn't just told him your biggest secret at all.

Punching the standard heavy punching bag hanging in front of you, you grunt, ignoring the pain that gnaws at your knuckles underneath the reusable hand wraps. Sweat builds on your brow as you continue to unleash your pent up anger on the gym’s equipment. How could he?! When had you ever pulled anything even similar to this? Never! And the fact that you’ve only been on the team for a handful of months only exacerbates the abandonment you’re feeling right now. He’s your Captain! Regardless of your feelings or the situation at hand, isn’t he supposed to be there for you? He’d promised from the get go to help you with whatever you need, and now the one time you go to him for aid it backfires in your face and leaves you without any sort of solution going forward aside from straight up telling the whole team the flat out truth, and God forbid! You can’t even begin to fathom how that’d go.

A pent up and frustrated yell almost akin to something of a growl emanates from you as you tear into another round of swift jabs and punches. Regardless of the situation at hand, you’ve been trying to build up your upper body’s strength and letting out the anger you’d accumulated over this morning’s events seemed like a perfect opportunity to let loose.

The stretches and treadmill routine didn’t take a lot out of you, but the weights, and now the punching bag definitely is starting to take its toll. Sweat beads at your forehead in rivulets that drip down the sides of your neck, down your scalp past your neck and between your shoulder blades. Tank top soaked in sweat, you breathe hard as your heart pumps rapidly in your chest. You would’ve wound up here at some point or another tonight, but the Captain’s discourteous response certainly led to an earlier workout time.

While others sparsely litter the gym’s floor, you pay them no mind and vice versa. It’s not uncommon for soldiers to be found blowing off steam or aiming to beat their highest reps on the weights. Yet, this gym is reserved for higher standing members of the Force, the gym on the far side of the base where there are less people, offices, and considering the regular army men train in the bigger gym closer to their quarters, it’s mostly other higher ranked officers in here.

“Captain’s lookin’ for ya,” Markowski, another Sergeant that you’d come to befriend on base announces from the doorway, having poked his head in after leaving a few minutes earlier. He belongs to a different Task Force.

A groan tumbles out of you as you realize it’s already that time. Just as the door clicks shut, your phone chimes loudly with the alarm you’d set earlier going off. A few quick swipes of your fingers, you turn the alarm off and unlock the device, seeing a number of messages flood your notifications.

Kyle: You hear they’ve bumped up the timeline? 😯

Johnny: “ https://Tiktok/Shattered.Rat567 ” Had me rollin’ 🤣👏🏻 Gotta check it, Bonnie

Simon: You coming to the meeting or not? 🤨

Johnny: Where r u? You’re usually first here 👀 Cap’s getting peeved, watch out

Not looking forward to the inevitable mess of a meeting before you, you don’t bother rushing to join the men. With a wash of your face in the women’s locker room, a speedy bathroom break, and a grab of the items you’d brought with you, you’re heading for the Command Station.

With the time Price set the meeting, you won't get to eat dinner till afterward. You'd be lying if you said you weren't annoyed by this entire situation, your agitation from neglecting your hunger earlier has certainly come to bite you in the backside.

While you don’t have time to respond to their texts, having set the alarm with only enough time to get back to your team’s Command ‘station’ albeit more like your headquarters before heading out. Speed-walking through the orderly halls with a haste perfectly common around here, you navigate with a well practiced knowledge. Though you’ve only been here coming up on six months soon, you’re well acquainted with this part of the base.

Rounding the corner, you’re in the hall, close. Yet, the worry of being late lingers in the back of your mind and adds another layer of annoyance on top of your residual anger buried deep down from this morning’s situation. You’d inevitably come up with your solution. It’s not one you like… but it’s the only logical option. Another turn and you’re striding into the big garage-like room.

“Nice of you to finally join us, Sergeant,” Price calls out to you. Lifting his eyes from the map laid out across your station's table, he glares in your direction.

“What took you so long?” Soap snaps, his brows slightly furrowed as he stares at you from the opposite side of the table, hands lazily wrapped around his vest’s straps.

A look at your watch tells you that you’re not even late, the meeting doesn’t officially start for another minute! But you are usually waiting on them. He’s got you there.

“Yeah, you’re usually the first one here. It’s not like you,” Gaz whispers under his breath as you sidle up alongside Ghost, Gaz standing diagonal to you right beside Price at the head of the table.

“Focus,” Ghost orders the men, his hands tucked in his hoodie’s pocket. You don’t fail to notice the way he subtly takes a step further away from you as soon as they start talking again. Price goes back to talking plans as Gaz is questioning the circumstances of the information the Captain had acquired earlier when he’d had to leave the office.

“Which is exactly why-”

A heavy exhale on your behalf leaves the men frozen as their eyes drift back to you. “Do you have something you’d like to say, Panther?” The Captain questions. Jaw clenched, you tear your eyes from the map they’d settled on.

“We’ve got a big problem,” you announce, cutting off the Captain as you finally raise your gaze to meet Price’s slightly widened blue eyes.

“Well, if you see something that needs changin’ then let’s hear it,” he responds. A ‘hmph’ follows as he crosses his arms over his chest and sits his weight back onto his heels.

“It’s not about the op,” you correct him. Tilting your head side to side you attempt to crack the kinks in your neck while standing a little straighter to appear more engaged and serious.

“And it’s more important than this? What we’re doin’ right now?” Soap questions, his hands dropping to rest on the table as he looms over it, eyeing you with frustration obvious in his irises.

“What is it?” Gaz asks, a quirk of his eyebrow garnering your attention for a split-second. He’s genuinely asking, and there doesn’t seem to be a hostility in his scent as he turns his attention to you. Then there’s Ghost, who you don’t even need to look at to feel his heavy gaze on you, waiting expectantly.

“Actually, it is,” you argue with Soap, anger beginning to boil in your belly, the frustration and angst having been left to simmer all afternoon. “I can’t believe you didn’t take me seriously when I came to you earlier,” you turn your anger on Price. He looks taken aback by the outburst, something you’re not known for.

“Dove,” he calls calmly, hands out in an attempt to pacify.

“Don’t-” you bark, starting to raise your voice without realizing it. “I came to you in confidance! Trusting you when you said you’d be there to help me if I ever needed it! How could you?” Gritting your teeth, you don’t realize how hard you’re breathing as your chest heaves with anger.

“Woah, woah-” Gaz sputters, “What-” holding his hands out to try and diffuse the argument.

“I let myself be vulnerable-” You continue to shout.

“Isn’t this something that shoul-” Soap attempts to dissuade, backing down as he puts his hands out.

“-and tell you the truth, and-” you’re lunging for him across the table. You’re held back by a massive hand on your shoulder. “You laugh in my face?! What the fuck is wrong with you?”

You're suddenly pulled back, off your feet, and shoved into a metal chair that'd been nearby. Your Lieutenant is hovering over you, his cold eyes now tinged with a spark of anger as they bore into you scrutinizingly. There's the sound of commotion behind him, multiple voices overlapping, yet you can't see anything with that utter giant in front of you!

“Does anyone wanna explain what the bloody hell is goin’ on here?” Ghost snaps. It's only then when the man steps aside that you can see where everyone is. With both of you in your respective corners, you simply glare at the Captain from over your crossed arms out in front of you.

“Are you bleedin’ kidding me, ya Scally?” Price grunts as he shrugs Gaz’ hand off his shoulder. “You’re still on about it! When w-"

"That doesn't explain what happened, Cap," Gaz interrupts, stopping him from going off and getting them nowhere.

He groans, running a hand over his face once more before composing himself. Everyone waits for an explanation—you too—he’d been the first to speak, and you’re curious to hear what he comes up with. “She came into my office, bloody cryin’, tossing me a pill bottle, muttering about, saying she’s a-”

You don’t dare let him finish, not wanting him to be the one to finally say it, exposing your truth to the team. "Omega. I’m an Omega, ” you finish his sentence. While you’re scared to meet their faces, you take a deep breath and force yourself to do so.

"Christ," Price curses, fingers coming up to pinch the skin between his brows as he hangs his head.

Ghost's stoicism is nothing unordinary, and in fact, is somewhat a comfort considering you'd expected nothing less from him.

Gaz looks stunned for a moment, eyes flitting about the other’s faces before the serious look on his face morphs. Lips slowly drawing upward, you shouldn’t be surprised when he starts laughing. "Yeah right," Garrick teases, "and I'm actually the Prime Minister."

Yet, it's not just him. The uproarious laughter from your right only adds fuel to the already burning flame as the two other Sergeants laugh like idiots. All as if it's some poor joke with no consequences to anyone's life, and yet... it's the truth. At the end of the day, it doesn't change anything. At the end of the day, your life is still in jeopardy and they're treating it like some joke. Unable to form any sort of retort, you simply blink; stuck in a stupor raw, stung, and with a dumb look on your face.

Soap, rounding the table slaps Gaz on the back, his face flushed red from laughing so hard. "Yer makin' my stomach hurt. God," he eggs the other on between his dying chuckles and attempting to catch his breath.

"You're really just gonna stand there and laugh?!" You finally burst. Anger surely must be coming off your scent in waves, but you don't care. Standing from the chair, you don't flinch as Ghost swipes his arm out in front of you in case you were going for the Captain again. There will be no physical altercation on his watch.

"She already pulled this on me earlier, mind you, and now what? You're trying to pull it over on the lads' too, eh?" Price goads you.

"And I was telling the truth! You're the one who said I was joking," you point out. The volume of your voice is lost on you, partially blinded by the fury bleeding out.

"I suppose you never did admit to it being a prank," Price reasons, fingers grazing his beard as he runs them over it repeatedly in thought. "But how do you expect us to believe that when you clearly smell of a Beta?"

"Even on the battlefield, after everything we've been through-" Gaz starts.

"After yer all sweaty from a workout, too. I think we'd notice, Pan," Johnny argues, illuminating a legitimate point of consideration.

"Oh please," you mutter quietly to yourself. Shaking your head, you can't believe they're really all being this daft right now. "Like you have heard of those Scent Spritzers.”

There are various perfumes on the market specifically designed to alter one’s scent. Most use it smell like an Alpha when they’re not, or an Omega when they’re wanting to seduce an Alpha when going out. But Omegas posing as Betas was rarely heard of. You’re more than sure it happens more frequently than people know of, they just haven’t been caught. And in your line of work? It’s scarce. People are thoroughly vetted, but… you’d been on suppressants for a long, long time. And a Beta perfume only perfected your hiding.

“Did you forget we’re Alphas, love? We’d be able to smell you across the room if you were,” Gaz taunts. There’s a puff of his chest that makes his cockiness even more annoying than usual.

"You really want to be an Omega? Dumb yourself down to some weak fragile thing?” Johnny jokes, nudging Gaz’ arm as he shakes his head.

“A doll who can get whoever she wants? Want to be nothing more than good for knockin' up and popping out pups?” Gaz adds on.

“Are you serious right now?” You test, seething under your skin as your hands ball up into fists. “How could you say that?!”

“It’s what people say,” Ghost comments.

“Nobody would want that and you’re out here lying about it,” Johnny pokes.

“We’re only trying to point out the flaws in your little rouse, Pan,” Gaz says, a smile lighting up his features as he crosses his arms over his chest.

"And what if I was lying, hm? Would that change anything you just said to me? How you feel about Omegas?" You scoff.

“This isn’t about your designation,” Price finally speaks. Fingers still weaved into his beard, his blue eyes lift to meet yours. “I see what this is about now, but there's nothin' to worry about, Dove.” Your Captain takes on a softer tone and all of the sudden you feel yourself start to get emotional as a twinge of sadness, of the hurt bleeding through upon understanding makes you feel seen.

“I know it's intimidating, the thought of having your first unmedicated heat, but we have medics here. It's natural. Heats, ruts, we all have them. And, hey... at least you're not an Omega, right?" Whatever relief you’d momentarily experienced sinks back down in your gut with the speed of a rollercoaster drop. It’s as silent as a stakeout, the only sound being people’s breathing. And the lack of yours.

It takes a moment to gather yourself, everyone’s eyes on you with the serious topic change. While sex and the downsides to a designation are something discussed with the boys, you’d often been left out. And to your comfort. "You know what? I can’t do this,” you retort. Backing from the group, you toss your hands up. “I guess you'll just have to wait and see," you bite back. With a whip of your hair over your shoulder, you head for the door.

The room is silent once more as everyone gawks. You’d never reacted in such a manner, had an outburst like that… this is… certainly different, and something they’re not at all used to.

“It’s because they took away her suppressants today,” Price explains. It might not have been something the group should be privileged to know. A private matter, really… but with the way you acted? He felt the men deserve an explanation, at least.

“That makes sense,” Gaz responds quietly, eyes still on the door you’d gone through.

“That’s no excuse,” Johnny counters, arms crossing over his chest with a scowl on his lips.

"Well... that went better than I thought,” Ghost comments with a shrug. “Back to the plan? We can fill her in later.”

[gazsdiary]

BY ANY OTHER NAME

Chapter 1: The ring

Summary: The sudden appearence of certain pack on your life makes you question whether you're being watched. After meeting them, questions start to arise about who you really are and how the task force members feel about you.

Pairing: poly!141 x Reader [A/B/O Universe]

Warnings: mentions is marriage, gaz not being happy.

Words: 6K (ups...)

Previous chapter: Johnny’s Secret

Author's note: pls tell me this long or shorter chapters?

(I do NOT allow anyone stealing, translating or imitating this work)

Don’t forget to reblog, like and comment!

“You mean to tell me, that you had been disappearing to see a girl?”

“Ye donae get' it! I'm tellin' ye, it’s no' just any lass!”

Price leaned against his desk chair as he looked at the scene in front of him. A loved one faced Johnny and a fuming Gaz, who had been walking from one side of the room to another. Gaz huffed when he hear Johnny’s reply. Yes, he was fuming.

“Huh! Do you hear him?” He asked Price walking closer to his desk motioning to Johnny “Looks like that much gunpowder has gotten him”

Soap’s face hardened. He steps forward, closing the gap between them, frustration bubbling over. “Agh, shut it, Gaz! This isn’t some daft wee fling! I’m no’ sneakin’ around like a bloody idiot. I love her.”

Gaz scoffs, shaking his head as if he has heard a madman, but Soap kept going. And then, his voice softens, almost like he can’t help it when he speaks about you. “When I’m wi’ her… it’s different. She makes me feel, safe? Like I can finally bloody breathe without wonderin’ when it’s all gonna fall apart.” Price could see how his eyes soften, although he kept his fists clenched.

“Johnny If I see that smile on your face one more time, Ghost is going to have to take me off you with hot water” He growled “You don’t even know her!”

"I do know her! She eats in the meds office 'cause the Mess Hall’s got too many smells an’ it overwhelms her! She likes my jokes, an’ her nose twitches when she laughs! I ken everythin’ aboot her! I-“ He signed, his shoulders slumping a bit "Listen, I’m just sayin’ ye should meet her. She’s an absolute sweetheart, an’ I know ye’ll like her. Maybe even feel the way I do. I’m tellin’ ye, she’s what we’ve been lookin’ for, our  missin’ piece."

Price analysed the atmosphere in the room. While Gaz looked heartbroken, his brows furrowed and his eyes dripping with sadness, his mouth slightly opened as if he wanted to say something, Missing? You felt like you were missing something? Aren't we enough? Aren’t I enough? But the words were too painful to fall out of his mouth. Johnny, however, was the living image of love stroked. Price had to be honest, he hadn’t seen him like that since he started meeting up with Gaz. Back in the day, he had been almost too shy to join their pack.

He was the youngest, the newest, and maybe that’s why he was so reluctant about the idea of adding someone else. Maybe it was the idea of not being the “missing piece” anymore, maybe it was the idea of not being enough. Maybe that was it. Pack 141 was incomplete until Gaz arrival, they all had said it, so why did they need another packmate? He was enough to complete the pack, they were a pack and they were happy. But the hole in his chest only grew wider each second Price stood in silence, listening to Soap talk.

Gaz looked at his Pack Alpha, while he leaned into the table, his elbows on top of it “You know that there is a possibility this doesn’t work, right? That it’s only you who feel  that connection with her” Price watched with steady eyes how Johnny nodded his head muttering a small aye. 

After a beat, Price continued, his voice unwavering.“I won’t risk the pack's stability for her… However” Johnny lit up when he pronounced that word “We’ll organize a meeting to get to know her”

Gaz felt his world turning upside down, shadows and flashing lights dancing around him as the distanced voice of Soap celebrating and laughing drilled his ears.

A forced cough caught everyone's attention.

Simon. Yess, Simon. Only Simon could stop this nonsense.

“What?”

Simon pushed himself off the wall he was leaning in, walking slowly towards the middle of the room “There's a problem in your plan” Simon spoke with a deep voice as he looked, with cold eyes, as Johnny turned towards him:

“She has a ring on her finger”

Since the day you had bump into them they had started showing up everywhere. 

You tried ignoring them, you really did. Your routine with Johnny was still the same, sometimes he would pop up randomly in the same place you were. He’ll say with his characteristic smirk and shrugging casually Oh, I was just passin’ by, an’ I saw ye… Right… Then the other two started to appear. The one you had bumped into usually watched you from afar. It didn't matter where you were, he was already there. You could feel his eyes watching you, only for you to turn around and see some aviator glasses covering his face. 

It was starting to get on your nerves, the idea of being followed everywhere. You had no idea if Johnny had talked about you or if this was some special agent protecting their pack kinda bullshit. 

You knew it was intended to be subtle, but the large hulking man in a Baklava wasn't as unnoticed as he thought. While the other one followed you like a shadow, this man stomped his way through and every soldier around slipped away as fast as they could.

You were inside one of the med offices wondering if you should speak to Johnny about what had been happening. You knew he was coming to have lunch with you, he always did. It was a really good moment to talk about this. Hey, Johnny your pack has been hmm a bit intruding? Could you tell them to back off? Sigh. Maybe it was you who was overstepping, I mean, having lunch everyday with one of their packmates was probably considered intruding.

Before you could rumble your thoughts around anymore, a loud knock stopped your frantic thinking. With big strides you reached the door in only a few steps, the blurry shadow though the textured glass only seemed to grow bigger and bigger. You took only one moment to try to make your hair look decent before yanking the door open: 

“Johnny I want to talk about- I- You…”

The words died on your tongue.

Instead of Johnny’s usual bright grin, the sudden appearance of the hulking body of the skull-balaclava man had you stuttering with wide eyes. You were met with Simon “Ghost” Riley, standing tall in your doorway, clad in his gear, his presence filled the small space, your face near his chest. 

Your fingers tightened around the door handle, suddenly hyper-aware of how close you were—face near to his chest. You tried taking a deep breath trying to calm your heartbeat, he wasn't supposed to be here. 

Your mouth suddenly felt dry, “I- What are you doing here?” 

“Aren't you a nurse?”

“I- I mean, yes?” 

He hummed before bumping into you slightly as he made his way into the office, broad-shouldered, wearing his uniform, every inch of him radiating authority as sat on one of the examination tables, the metal structure screeching under his weight. His presence was overwhelming, filling the room like a storm rolling in. 

“I’m hurt” He grumbled in a deep voice “Fix me”.

Your eyes betrayed you as they run over how his legs spread when he sat, his wide thighs pressed against the mattress, the fabric of his jeans stretching, his hands flat on the mattress, his forearms stretched backwards supporting his weight, his chest silhouette under his shirt, the sharp cut of his jaw beneath the mask. He was watching you too, gaze heavy, unwavering, dark eyes locked onto yours, piercing and unreadable, but there was something in them, something that made heat rush to your cheeks.

You felt hot under his gaze. 

Turning sharply, heart hammering as you reached for the door, you caught a glimpse of him, just the barest shift behind his mask, but you were almost sure he was smiling.

Breathing deeply you walked towards him, stopping in front of him, almost between his legs. You tried figuring out if this was some kind of test; however, none of the way his eyes stayed motionless and his eyebrows furrowed indicated it.

“So, what happened… Lieutenant Riley?” You had to read his name tag sewn into his shirt.

“Ghost. Call me Ghost” His name rolled out of his mouth as he looked at you.

After clearing his throat he continued “Shoulder’s been acting up,” he muttered, rolling it back like the movement alone would emphasize his point. “Figured I’d get it checked.”

You nodded, steadying yourself, pushing away all hesitation “Right, let me take a look-”

The moment you reached for his arm, he caught your hand instead. His fingers wrapped around your wrist, halting your movements. Not roughly, but firm enough to make you pause and stay gripped. 

 You looked up at him, confused, but he wasn’t watching your face anymore.

He was looking at your hand.

At your ring.

His thumb dragged lightly over the small and smooth metal, a barely-there touch, but it sent a jolt through your spine anyway.

His grip didn’t falter, but something in his eyes shifted.

“Didn’t know you were married,” he said, voice quieter now, deeper.

Your pulse thundered in your ears. A sharp panic started swirling inside your chest, your ribs suddenly felt too tight for your lungs, and your throat tightened making your mouth go dry. The weight of his stare pinned you in place, knowing there was no easy way out of this.

“I-...” The word barely made it past your lips, weak, uncertain, halting. You forced yourself to swallow, to steady your breath, but the heat of his fingers against your skin made it impossible to think straight.

A flicker of something unreadable passed through his eyes. He still didn’t let go. And for a moment, just for a brief moment, you wondered if he even wanted to.

Then—

The door burst open.

“Bonnie! Ye ready to-?”

Johnny’s voice, loud and full of its usual warmth, disappeared the moment he took in the scene before him.

Your wrist, still in Ghost’s grasp.

You, standing between his legs, close, almost too close.

You whipped your head towards him, startled, frozen in place. Ghost, however, was slower, his head turning with measured precision, a deliberate movement. His gaze was unreadable as he met Johnny’s shocked expression.

Johnny’s usual nice eyes had vanished. However, it wasn’t just because both of you in front of him. It was Ghost’s eyes. Dark. Sharp. Fixated. Like he was found doing something he wasn’t supposed to, something he wasn’t willing to step away from. Like a predator standing over its kill, possessive, unwavering, ready to strike at anyone who dared step nearer.

Johnny’s usual easy song smile faltered, his eyes darting between the two of you. His expression darkened, you could see the confusion flickering beneath the surface, the corner of his mouth twitching slightly  “What’s going on here?”

Ghost released your hand instantly, pushing himself off the examination table with a calculated slowness. “Nothin’,” he said, voice level. “Shoulder’s fine now.”

“Wait, what about-”

He didn't even share a glance to you as he brushed past Johnny, exiting the room without uttering another word. The moment you heard the door close you released a breath you didn't even know you were holding. The skin he had touched tingled with the invisible promise of being touched again.

Johnny waited until he heard the door close to move. He walked fastly towards you, his hands grabbing your arms carefully, almost cuddling you in his warm embrace. His eyes search your face for any sign of harm. “Ye alright, lass?”

You hesitated for a moment. Were you? If you were, why did you feel like your heart was going to break through your ribs? “Yes, I think so…”

Although he nodded, the crease in his eyebrow only deepened. He tried keeping his voice soft, but there was something sharper behind, an edge of concern, maybe even jealousy. “Bonnie… what did Ghost want?” 

You opened your mouth, but no words came out. 

You wished you had an answer, you really did.

Because truthfully, you didn’t know either.

You were jolted out of your flashback when Johnny grabbed your shoulders, slightly shaking you. He was looking at you with worried eyes, again. “Ye good?”

“I don’t know if this is a good idea, Johnny. What could he possibly want to talk about?”

You stare back at him as you play with your hands. You had the bad habit of picking your hangnail skin when you were nervous, a habit that hadn't taken Johnny long to realise. He is good at reading people, especially people he cares about.

He grabbed your sweating hands, slowly running his thumb over your skin. He smiled at you, letting out a small chuckle “Lass, yer gonna wreck yer hands 'fore we’ve even stepped in".

His grip was steady, not tight but grounding. His thumb traced soothing circles over your knuckles. You tried focusing on the callouses of his warm hands, you reflected on how that roughness came from years of training. It was comforting. Too comforting. 

You tried swallowing, but your mouth felt like sand. Calm down.

“Listen, it’s just Price wantin’ a chat, aye? Nothin’ to worry about.” Johnny reassured you, lowering his gaze to try catch your eyes “Unless there’s somethin’ yer no’ tellin’ me, hmm?”

Your breath caught, your heart stopping for a second, but you forced out a small dismissive laugh “No, nothing like that. It’s just… I don’t know why a captain is summoning me.”

Johnny hummed, clearly seeing that you were still trembling, but he did not push anymore. Instead he squeezed your hand before offering you his charming lopsided smirk.

“Don’t worry, lass. Ye got this”

Before you could answer, the door to the office opened: 

“You can come in now”

It was almost funny. How they could see your nervous shadow through the texture glass of the office door. They had been watching how your nervous figure kept moving from one side to another as Johnny tried to keep you calm and still. Your blurred silhouette shifted, the distorted outline of your movements casting faint shadows against the dim light outside. It was funny, Ghost had to admit it. How even if you tried so hard to whisper, they could still hear your nervous rambles. Johnny knew they were hearing it, they knew it.

The room was silent, save for the ticking of Price's watches, and the air was light. Price had ordered a deep clean and for the windows to be open all morning, so the room smelt nice and clean, not deep alpha scent in sight.

Ghost stood near the window, farther away from the sofas. It wasn't a command, it was more of a suggestion so he would not intimidate you. He obeyed as he growled something about not even dreaming about being close to you. Which wasn't really true because now, with his arms crossed against his chest, as he observed yours and Johnny’s movements through the glass, he wanted nothing else to pull you inside the room. 

Price sat behind his desk, tapping a pen against his fingers. He could see how tense Ghost’s frame was. He had been studying the room for a while. Gaz leaned against the wall next to the door, one foot propped up, his hands resting on his belt, his fingest casually hooked into the loops. His posture was relaxed, effortless, with an easy confidence. At least someone is relaxed.

“Well. Johnny has been outside for quite some time now” Gaz spoke breaking the silence “Doesn’t look like she’s interested in our little meeting”

“See that?” Ghost muttered from the other side of the room “She’s nervous”

Gaz scoffed as he pulled himself off the wall “Looks like she doesn’t want to be here.” He tilted his head as the shadows shifted again “I’ve seen better acting” He let out a short, humourless laugh.

“She’s scared, she’s shaking like a leaf” Ghost barked back.

With a shrug of his shoulder Gaz replied “Doesn’t matter to me” His tone was dismissive, his gaze never stayed too long on the door.

Price's eyes narrowed slightly when he saw your form stiffed when Johnny moved closer, his shadow nearly overlapping yours through the glass. 

“She’s keeping her distance” Price said “Not too much. She doesn’t want to be rude about it”.

Ghost’s jaw tightened, though he said nothing. He wasn't particularly fond of small talk, especially when it involved things that did not concern him. However. His eyes never left you moving through the glass, his expression unreadable. He had to admit, you were an enigma and he was fascinated by you. He already knew about your little secret meetings even before Johnny's secret was revealed. You had caught his attention. 

Despite his outward nonchalance, something inside him was on edge. There was something about you, something hidden that captivated him, something that made his chest rise with anxiety. And that bothered him more than he cared to admit. He wasn’t used to feeling this unsettled, not over someone he barely knew.

Ghost’s attention moved back to Price and, for a moment, their eyes met. He could almost hear the growl starting to grow inside Simon’s chest. Ghost was protective. He couldn’t help but feel the tug of something deeper than curiosity when it came to you. Price understood it just by looking at him. Something was off, but not in the way Gaz assumed.

“I’ll keep an eye on her,” Ghost muttered, his voice gravelly as he moved away from the window, still not breaking his gaze from the door. “She’s… interesting.”

Gaz gave him a side-eyed glance, clearly unimpressed with Ghost’s cryptic words. “Interesting? That’s one word for it. You’ve already made up your mind, haven’t you?”

Before Ghost could bite a response back, Price hushed them, the room suddenly silent. The faint sound of hurried whispers echoed in the hallway, the blurry shadow outside the door shifting once again. 

Price’s expression softened, seeing how tense Ghost figure was. He spoke with authority in his voice. “We don’t know her yet, Gaz. Give her a chance. If she’s what Johnny needs, then she deserves that much.”

Gaz held Simon’s gaze for a bit, his eyebrows frown and his jaw tight. 

“Yeah, well…” He muttered as he strode lezley “just because Johnny’s smitten doesn’t mean we all have to play along.”

He turned around, shrugging lazily. “I don’t like her. Don’t trust her either. All this ‘she’s nervous’ and ‘she’s interesting’ talk? Doesn’t mean a thing to me. I’ve seen people act sweet before screwing everything up.”

His hand closed around the door handle as he threw a glance over his shoulder, towards Simon, tone flat.

“But fine. Let’s get this over with.”

And with that, Gaz opened the door, the light from the hallway spilling into the room as he met Johnny’s waiting stare. Yours, just behind him.

“You can come in now.”

The teacup was warm in your hands, the delicate porcelain did not help calming your nerves but the soft smell of the tea reached a conforming place inside your head.

You sat straight on the armchair, trying to appear as relaxed as possible. Johnny had dragged his chair closer to yours, his knee nearly brushing your own. You had never seen him smile like this, his face was lit up like a child in front of a birthday cake. The soft clink of ceramic came from the desk as Price returned with a small milk pitcher, you saw how it had different flowers painted all over it while Price offered it to you gently. He had a soft smile on his face, it made his cheeks chubby in an adorable way you thought.

“Here you go, love” he said, with a small, reassuring smile. “How d’you take it? Sugar? Milk?”

A blush started to creep at your cheeks, for some reason the nickname made you feel fussy and with a small nod you said “Just a bit of milk, please.”

“Of course.” He poured it for you, precise and calm, like this was just another pleasant afternoon. “No need to be nervous. There’s nothing wrong, just a friendly chat.”

But it didn't feel like that. Not with the way the man with the skull baklava was looking at you, arms braced on his knees, his eyes fixed on you without blinking once. His baklava hid most of his face, the only visible thing being his eyes, they were dark, his pupils dilated. It felt like he was trying to burn you into his memory. He hadn't said anything since you entered, just murmuring a soft greeting… But now, with his gaze fixed on you, you were pretty sure he wanted to say something more.

“Ghost” Price barked with a tight smile “Ease up, mate.” 

You watched how Ghost didn’t reply, but blinked slowly as if coming out of a trance and looked away, jaw clenched tight.

“See? Told ye, they’re a decent bunch. Don’t even bite.” Johnny whispered almost in your ear, never stopping smiling as he looked at you with such a shine in his eyes. They were so pretty. You had always thought it, since the first moment you met, you could spend hours looking at him.

You could only hum taking a sip of your tea, trying to banish the heat of your cheeks with Johnny looking at you. “Nice is a way to put it…” You murmured, unable to stop yourself. Ghost’s eyes flicked back to you when you said that, head tilting the slightest bit and, even if you couldn’t see it, a small smile appeared under his mask. 

However, not everyone was happy. Across the room, Gaz cleared his throat loudly, arms still folded tightly.

Price turned sharply to look back at him, his cold eyes sent his sergeant a cold look before looking back at you. He closed his eyes for just a moment, breathing deeply before opening them again and smiling back at you. “Don’t mind him, love. Tell me, how’s the medical wing treating you?”

He was so nice. He was the nicest one, well, after Johnny. He was your Johnny after all. However, Price’s smile was so nice. The way he looked at you with such a softnest, he look so nice, so warm made your tummy flutter, a warm feeling inside your chest that made you want to roll onto his scent- 

No.  Nothing like that.

“Bonnie?” 

You snapped back into the room, you looked to your right, Johnny was looking at you with a worried face. Right. Price had asked you a question. 

“Hmm… It’s good, sometimes it gets a bit too much, but I like it” You tried giving him a smile, something to hide how nervous you were. However, it didn’t take long for it to disappear from your face. 

A small smile appeared on Price’s face “That’s nice”

His gaze dropped to your hands very subtly, but you saw the flicker of confusion before it was buried under his usual warm and nice persona.

“Married and still making time for the military wounded. Must be a hell of a man you’ve got,” he said lightly, nodding toward your left hand.

Your blood turned to ice.

Your hand instinctively curled into your lap, but it was too late. The ring, your ring, had already drawn attention. You heard Johnny shift beside you. Not a word. Just movement. Stiff and controlled.

Gaz scoffed, sharp and low. “Figures.”

You looked up sharply, but he wasn’t even looking at you anymore. Just stared hard at the opposite wall like he couldn’t be bothered to hide the sour taste in his mouth.

“I didnae think-” Johnny began, but his voice faltered.

You swallowed hard, your throat suddenly felt like if you were being choked. “It’s complicated.”

“Isn’t it always,” Gaz muttered under his breath.

The air thickened around you. Ghost, still as stone in his chair, had been watching you. Not your hands. Not your face. You.

Then he spoke.

“You don’t smell like him”

Silence invaded the room as Ghost's deep voice made that statement. All of them were thinking the same thing, however Ghost was the one to say it. Price didn't separate his eyes from you even after Ghost's statement, and you could feel how Johhny’s figure tensed up, his fist balled up and his shoulders tense. 

You looked back at Price, because you refuse to even share a gaze with Johnny. You knew that this topic would come up sooner and later, but as long as Johnny could ignore it, you would play along. Fantasizing about your little relationship, about your secret meetings, about how warm your hand felt inside his own, about how peaceful you were inside his arms, about the butterflies you felt when he smiled at you. 

Yes, you could play along. 

However, your little bubble had now popped, revealing the sad truth about your situation.

You tried smiling but failed when a sudden trembling breath left your body “He… He’s not usually here” You could feel Johnny's eyes burning a hole into you, his usually nice smile now gone, a slight frown on his forehead. 

Price hummed leaning backwards, a casual manspread as he got comfortable, his arms crossed against his chest “Hmm that’s quite dangerous for you”

“We are literally on a military base” You tried laughing it off, however the masked man didn’t share your sense of humour.

“That’s exactly why he’s saying it” He almost growls, a dangerous vibration coming from his throat “Lot’s of men here and you don’t even smell like your mate.”

There it was. The elephant in the room. 

You kept your eyes on Price, refusing to meet Ghost’s stare even though you could feel the weight of it pressing down on you.

“I told you,” you said quietly, trying to steady your voice. “He’s always deployed. Sometimes even for months”

Silence.

Price blinked slowly, clearly trying to read between your lines. He didn’t push, not yet, but the thoughtful frown now tugging at his lips told you he didn’t buy it completely.

Ghost leaned forward just slightly, arms still crossed but his eyes narrowed, sharp like a blade. “And the suppressant?”

Your blood ran cold.

“I—what?”

“You don’t smell like an omega at all,” he said, quiet but firm. “Not masked. Not faded. It’s muted. Synthetic.” He tilted his head. “Not like your mate, not like an omega. It's like someone’s trying real hard not to be noticed.”

The air felt thick again, but this time it was colder, heavier.

“I take them when he’s gone,” you murmured, not quite looking at anyone. “It’s safer that way. I don’t like drawing attention.”

It was half the truth. You weren’t sure if that made it better or worse.

Price let out a slow, long breath. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, voice low and steady—but not unkind. “You know that’s not how a pack works, love. If your mate cared—really cared—he’d be making sure you’re safe. You wouldn’t have to cover your scent. Wouldn’t need suppressants.”

You didn’t speak. Couldn’t. Your chest was too tight.

“A bond like that should be felt,” Price continued, softer now. “We should know you’re his. But you walk in here smelling like no one. That’s not only negligence. That’s abandonment.”

Your eyes stung. You fought the tears threatening to climb up your throat. You looked down at your hands. “I am with someone,” you whispered.

Simon let out a short breath, almost like a laugh. “If that’s true, then he’s already forgotten you.”

Silence. A beat too long. No one moved.

“Lieutenant” Price barks as he turns around to look at him.

You stood up, stumbling a bit as you got dizzy from the sudden movement, your chair scraped back harshly against the floor. Johnny followed your movements, trying to stabilise you “I- I think I should leave” You eyes looked around trying to find a scape, your form frigid, like a deer in headlights “I don’t feel comfortable anymore. I’m sorry,” You whispered before running outside of the office.

Johnny followed you, only stopping for a moment at the door, to turn around towards his pack, a ting of sadness and rage behind his eyes “Well done, lads. Bloody brilliant. Just fuckin’ perfect.” He fumed befores sprinting outside of the door. 

Price massaged his forehead and rubbed his face trying to keep his cool. He could only hope that in the process of losing you, they hadn’t lost Johnny.

You and Johnny walked in a comfortable silence. His hands brushed yours every step you took. His walk tried to seem relaxed, but the way his tense shoulders sway told you everything you needed to know about how he felt. 

Your tears had now dried on your cheeks, Johnny had hugged you after he chased you down, kissing your head and whispering sweet nothing into your ears to calm you down.

He even offered to walk you back to your house, and after a sincere apology and a small nod, you decided to walk in silence. You didn’t really know what to say after what had happened, you had too many things to explain. But you stayed silent. Johnny had too many things to say, his mind full of different thoughts. But he stayed silent too.

The base was quiet at this hour. Only a couple of people walking around, moving from one place to another, probably returning back to rest for the night. The path was somewhat dark, a few street lamps illuminated enough to have a “clear” visibility if someone was to enter.

You live in another compound, away from the other medical staff, from all the staff. Johnny did not question it, they had done enough digging for today. However, it was usually higher ranks or special units that had their own building. Johnny’s blood boiled thinking of you kissing with, or married to one of the higher ranks. The image of you arm in arm with one of those assholes, with Macmillan, or worse, with someone like Shepherd. Yes, it made him furious.

Johnny could’t allowed that. You were so nice, so soft, so undoubtedly uncorrupted, that the mere thought of you being laying at night with someone with blood on their hands. You have blood on your hands too, Johnny. He could almost hear Price's voice. And yes, it still made his blood boil.

Before he could realise it, you were already standing in front of your door. You were looking at him with remorse, he grabbed your hands and he gave you his usual smile; however, this time it didn’t reach his eyes.

“Don’t gimme that look, lass. Yer eyes are far too bonnie for that.” A small laugh escaped through his sincere smile. 

“Johnny, I-”

With a shake of his head he stopped you, Not even looking at your eyes anymore, his gaze fixed to your ring, as his thumbs caressed over it.

"He’s a lucky bastard, innit…" He whispered and it sounded like a curse, like a cruel joke life was playing on him. He tried rubbing the small metal band a bit, only a bit, harder, like he wanted to erase it, but it only turned around. A cruel joke, the ring felt like a curse and your doorway made him feel like the Gods were punishing him, pulling him back to hell, like those old Greek poets stories, dragging him away from his muse.

He raised his eyes back to yours, You had never seen him so serious befores, his eyes were so blue, so many things twirling behind them, you could see it, if you could only read them. 

He pulled you slightly closer to him, your chest barely touching with every breath. His lips trembled when he tried speaking “You know, If ye ever need anythin', anythin' at all, ye call me, alright?.” He rummage through his left back pocket, taking out a small folded ripped piece of paper, putting it inside your hand "I dunno what this is, don’t care either. Somethin’ feels off, somethin’ weird happens—you call. Aye?".

Johnny shook your hands slightly before you could rebate this order “Got it?”

You nodded and Johnny signed, closing his eyes “Can I at least ask his name?” 

After a moment of doubt you answer with a meek: “Sebastian” 

He nodded, still with his eyes closed. Sebastian he thought. He had never heard that name around base, and that was for the best, because if he did, he would probably be already trying to find him. Accidents happen all the time in the army… Sign. One second later he smiled again, that warm smile you loved. 

He let the name sit on his tongue like it burned, then gave you a crooked smile, too tired and too bitter at the edges to be real.

“Sebastian, aye?” he said, nodding slowly. "Bet he drinks fancy fizz water on purpose and probably knows how to say bourgeoisie".

You snorted—barely—but it made him smile for real, even if it was small and sad.

"Let me guess—one o’ them that gels his hair for PT. What a prick."

He paused, just a second too long, before glancing back down at your hand. His voice dropped.

"Still. He’s a lucky bastard."

Johnny nodded, slowly, as if talking himself through something no one else could hear. Then, with that familiar gentleness, he reached forward and tucked a small piece of hair away from your forehead before pressing a kiss to your forehead. It lingered just a second longer than it should’ve. Just long enough to mean something.

When he stepped back, he kept your gaze for a breath, and then another, before forcing the corners of his mouth up into a smile. Tired. Lopsided. Cracked with quiet heartbreak.

He took a few steps backward, his hand brushing through his hair before he stuffed his hands inside his pockets. He tilted his head with a lopsided grin. "So… see ye tomorra? Same time at the meds office? I’ll bring lunch, you bring… no Sebastian?"He said, mock-hopeful, with a crooked smirk.

He let the silence breathe, and then he shrugged: 

"Kiddin’… unless ye aren’t."

A wink. A smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. Then he turned and walked away.

And you stood in the doorway, already missing him.

The soft click of the door behind you sounded louder than usual. You leaned your back against it and let out a long, slow breath, eyes fluttering shut as the last pieces of Johnny’s presence slipped from your skin.

The house was dark. Still. The kind of stillness that pressed against your ears.

You stepped forward and kicked off your boots, the floor creaking under your weight. The silence wrapped around you tightly, until-

CRASH

Something clattered in the kitchen.

You froze.

Heart lurching, breath caught in your throat, you turned your head toward the sound. The darkness stretched before you like a threat.

Another noise — softer this time. A thump. Your mind raced.

Had someone followed you? No, impossible. You’d have known.You’d have noticed. Unless— No. No, it couldn’t be.

Slowly, your hand headed straight for the wooden small chest of drawers by the entrance. Your fingers moved without hesitation, sliding open the right drawer without making any noise and wrapping around cold steel.

The pistol was exactly where you'd left it.

You checked the magazine, thumbed off the safety, and held it low but ready as you padded across the wooden floor, every step silent and deliberate.

“…Sebastian?” you called out softly, every syllable trembling.

You stepped further inside. Still nothing. Another cautious step.

Heart hammering. Breath locked. The darkness stretched before you like a threat.

“…Sebastian,” you tried again, louder now, heart beating against your ribs like a warning drum.

You turned the corner sharply.

And there he was.

Not a soldier. Not a stranger. Just your cat.

He looked up from where he had just knocked over an empty mug, his tail flicking lazily like nothing at all had happened.

“Sebastian!” you hissed, voice caught between exasperation and relief dropping the muzzle of the gun. You clicked the safety back on, slid the weapon into the waistband of your trousers, and exhaled a tight, bitter breath.

He meowed, as if answering your earlier call with a well-earned sense of entitlement, then padded off to his food bowl like royalty expecting a feast.

You exhaled a shaky laugh, the tension didn’t drain all at once as you poured his wet food in his little plate. “You're lucky I love you, you little menace.”

You shuffled into your room, peeling off your uniform piece by piece like shedding someone else’s skin. The ring came off last — cold and hollow in your palm.

A perfect circle, forged for a lie. Not a promise. A cover. A fraud. You didn’t look at it when you set it on the dresser. You couldn’t.

The gun followed, placed carefully beside the ring, like two parts of a story no one knew. One you weren’t ready to tell.

You sat on the edge of the bed, staring at your bare hand. The absence of the ring left a slight indentation. You pressed your fingers there. Then slowly, your hand drifted to your neck.

No mark. No claim. Nothing to hide. Noone to give explanations. And yet — so much to explain.

You crawled into bed, muscles aching, heart heavier than before. The sheets felt colder tonight. Or maybe you just noticed it more. The lack of warmth, of scent, of presence. You pulled the blanket tighter, but it didn’t help.

Sebastian jumped onto your bed with a soft thud, laying down near your stomach, settling in for the night like nothing had happened. 

You remembered Johnny’s voice when he said your name — soft, warm, like the sun through your window after a nightmare. He made everything feel easier, even now, even after everything. Like maybe you weren’t entirely alone.

And then there was Ghost. You didn’t understand it. The way your skin tightened under his gaze. Like your body recognized something your mind didn’t. Something dangerous and old and… inevitable. A strange, quiet pull.

And Price… His presence had weight. Not crushing — anchoring. Just being near him slowed everything down. Your breath. Your thoughts. A calm feeling ivaded you, your heart beating slower and your mind feeling fuzzy.

This wasn’t about comfort. It wasn’t even about truth. It was about the fact that for a few moments today — just a few — you’d forgotten to lie.

And it had felt… good.

Stupid.

But good.

You shut your eyes tight and curled your knees up, facing the wall, blinking slowly into the dark.

This couldn’t happen. Not really. Not with them. Not like this. Not while you were still someone else entirely.

But that didn’t stop you from wanting it.

Even if it couldn’t be. At least… not yet.

TAGLIST: @suicidarsi @an-ever-angry-bi @corvid007 @danielle143 @annoyingnonamesan @littlelovebug98 @hypertail @just-lost-inbetween-worlds @rainbowangel @forgetmenotsilly @mirimirionthewall

[boolger]

A lapdog at a farm - chapter 1

AO3 link. next chapter -> Call of duty. Explicit, 18+, minors do not interact. read the tags. wc: 4,147

Maybe support me on kofi?🥺👉👈

Farmer!John Price x Hybrid!Reader, hybrid! Kyle Gaz Garrick x hybrid! Johnny Soap MacTavish x hybrid! Simon Ghost, John Price x Nikolai.

Summary: When Price was young and left his childhood home, a farm in the middle of nowhere in England, he didn’t enter the military. Instead he moved to London, got a degree and a good career, earning good money. He got you, a human dog hybrid as a pet, after feeling lonely - and you lived your best life for years, spoiled and pampered, Price’s lapdog who got praised at every party. Loved and fucked every night. That was until Price decided to return to his roots and go back to farming - dragging you along to the middle of nowhere, away from all the wonders of the big city. Expecting you to accept this sudden change in lifestyle and pretend to be a farm dog. Bad luck however, because you fucking hated it, and became more and more unruly. In hopes of getting you to calm down and to keep his live-stock and farm safe, Price then got three working dog hybrids - and all at once, your life was even worse than before.

tags: Rape/non-con elements, dub-con, dog!hybrid!people being kept as pets, alternative universe - farm, dark, farmer!John Price, working-dogs, punishments, mating cycles/rut/heat (no omegaverse), the dove isn't dead but its dying, reader is a brat, knotting, animal tails and ears, mentions of trauma, violence, angst, hurt/comfort, collars, rough sex, breeding kink, biting, threesome, foursome, everyone is fucking your honor, enemies to lovers, chubby reader, reader has a pussy

author's note: Hi sinners <33 Just a heads up; the reader is gonna be a spoiled brat. If you want a smart and sweet reader who isn’t mean at times, well. Bad news. This ain’t it.🥰The reader is she / her and has a pussy and is chubby. I tried my best to keep the descriptions somewhat vague otherwise. Reader is a cocker spaniel hybrid. I will tell the others along the way. In this universe, hybrids have ears, tail, claws beneath nails and canine fangs. There will be heats and ruts but there is no omegaverse. They will have personality traits of their dog breed and so on. Now. I know there aren’t wild wolves in the UK… but in this fic there is, ok? mwah.

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The countryside was peaceful compared to the city; the absence of the bustling streets and constant traffic, created a quietness that was indescribable.

Out here, at the new farm, the noises only came from animals that lived in the stables and barn or the occasional rumble as a tractor turned on. The wind caressed the never ending fields of wheat and the long rows of fruit trees, under which the goats and sheep walked most days.

The stress here wasn’t the same kind as in the city. Sure , there were stressful moments and sometimes Price looked like he needed to sleep for more than just the few hours he got everyday.

But he didn’t have to worry about the morning traffic, waiting in a queue for an overpriced, questionable tea or coffee. There was no need for him to wear a suit, no noisy, overfilled train cars in the underground. No crowded dog or hybrid parks, no meetings or rules to follow - except those John Price decided for himself.

He was happy, so much was clear to you. It had been three months since the move - Johnhad gone back to his roots, buying back the farm that his parents had used to own a little while ago, using some of his endless wealth on renovating the place. There was no step on the stairs that was loose, like it used to when he was a kid - sure they still creaked, but you weren’t afraid they would disappear from beneath you.

It was modernized, but most of the old charm left. Price fit right in; the furniture he had inherited and never believed he would use was suddenly in the living room. His knowledge of the business world was abandoned in the city, for the knowledge of farming that he still had left from his youth. John got a couple of farm hands and workers, who helped him with the big place.

It was like he reclaimed his own self that had been buried beneath the suits, ties and paperwork. Now he didn’t smoke his cigars from stress, but from pleasure, clearly much content.

It was like the farm had truly made John Price happy once more; his smiles more genuine, his true self stepping forth. Returning to his childhood home and taking over the farm had been the best decision Price had made. There was no question about it.

… and you hated every bloody day at the farm.

The early morning hours in bed with him, being disturbed by the farm waking up, the rooster crowing and John leaving the bed, giving you a pat in between your ears, taking all the heat with him. The constant bugs, the muddy stables and the big animals, the helpers who always teased you for not fitting in, the lack of friends you had out here. The foxes’ screams in the night, the wolves howling, and the cows occasionally mooing sounded like creatures stepping out of nightmares.

You were not made for farm life. Literally. Simply not made for it.

Some would argue that you, as a hybrid pet, didn’t have a say in it and sure , legally you didn’t. But you were a lapdog, an elegant pet. Not a farm dog. Created to be cared for and cuddled, you were a purebred cocker spaniel hybrid; you weren’t made to run around on a farm, following John on his duties And doing work. 

Sure, you had the instincts to hunt a few things here and there, but it was mostly balls and the occasional bird or squirrel. You weren’t a guard hybrid, not really a working dog.

You had had enough trauma throughout your life - you deserved not to be forced into this! You had grown up being trained to be a lapdog, not a working-dog like you felt like John expected you to act like now.

You wanted John to be happy, you really did - you loved your Master! When he bought you a few years ago, when you were still aggressive and unruly (… more than now at least), you had thought he would tire of you like everybody else had. But with patience, rules, training, praise and punishment and a whole lot of sex later, you were a perfect hybrid pet for the city! People always praised how well you looked, laughing when Price said you were really a little troublemaker. You would follow him throughout the fancy apartment, on your daily walks, sometimes for meetings.

But why the fuck did it have to be a farm? He worked somwwhat the same time that he did before, genuinely seeming to enjoy himself. Forgetting about poor you!

Out here, there were no hybrid daycare that you would go to when he had long days, there were none of your playmates nearby, everything stank of animals and there were no places nearby for you to get your hair and fur styled and pampered! No nail technicians, no fancy cafes, no shops for John to buy you things in! No special made coffee or chef-made meals every other evening, no freshly baked croissants.

You felt like you had tried . You really had. 

But after the first week, you had your first breakdown - and as the weeks passed, they didn’t stop. At first, John was sympathetic, like the perfect owner he was.

Cooing at you, kissing your forehead, as he gently scratched your ears. Kissing away any tears, saying it was okay - that you were just overwhelmed, that it would be okay. That you would come to like it out here.

Big fucking joke.

He had tried every trick in the book, in an attempt to please you and made you less upset, but as days turned into weeks and tantrums began to appear, you knew his patience began to disappear.

He followed professional advice and then the advice of the neighbors down the street, Rodolfo and Alejandro (who had caught you running away at one point), tried some of the workers’ advice. He had given you your own room, and it was mostly designed like your own, perfect to the pale green paint on the wall, all your toys and dog beds, your CDs - everything. He had tried hauling you along every day, trying to give you a routine to follow - but after two weeks, he gave up, not having the energy to deal with a tantrum that got worse and worse each day. He went on walks with you, fucked you silly, tried his best — and you didn’t want it.

No, you wanted to go back to your old life. Not this country life that you hadn’t signed up for, with horses that neighed loudly whenever you passed them; they were definitely going to trample you at the first chance, you knew that. You could hear foxes scream in the night, warning you of the dangers. The goats and sheep were so fucking loud and no you didn’t want to go pick fresh apples off the trees - had he seen the size of the spiders crawling on them?

When you in one of your biggest tantrums took off and bolted from the farm in distress, Rodolfo and Alejandro had almost hit you when you emerged from the corn fields onto the road. 

You had cried the entire drive home, no matter what the two men had tried saying, especially as Rodolfo called Price in advance — your master was livid . The worst thing was, that it was not that kind of anger where he yelled at you before punishing you - no, this one was almost silent, a sharp grip on your collar as he dragged you along after thanking his neighbours.

He had belted you then, ignoring your crying and screaming, only stopping when you broke, sobbing and going quiet. He had explained it to you then, what could have happened, what dangers you could have ended in - and as you sobbingly apologized and tried to explain, that you wanted to go back to the city, John had sighed .

Said that he had pampered you too much since he got you, which had made you greedy and attention seeking. Which only made you cry more, as you hid your face in his neck, fingers digging into his shirt, ass cheeks burning.

“Spoiled rotten, little birdie,” he mused, though you could hear the softness in him, your tail wagging a little, hoping to get him to be less mad.

“‘M sorry,” you had whined in distress, upset with yourself as well, ears tipping down, “wanna be good but I don’t like it.”

Your rather dull escape attempt resulted in several things. An AirTag on your collar, so that he always knew where you were. A remarkable lack of treats, sex and then… the crate .

You fucking hated the dog crate. 

Sure, it hadn’t been nice of you to bite one of his pillows into a simple pulp of fabric, feathers everywhere. Or create chaos in the kitchen… or get drunk on his fancy whiskey (that one had ended worse for you, hangover was a bitch and there wasn’t much sympathy from John). And yes, you might have ripped most of the flowers surrounding the house up, until one of the workers had caught you. Maybe pissing yourself in the middle of the living room while staring him in the eyes and ignoring his warnings had been a little…excessive. 

But the dog crate? You hated that thing with a burning passion. 

Hated it when he locked you up, ignoring your whimpers and whines, your promises to behave, ignoring your little howls as he left. 

Mean. The farm had made him mean. Perhaps you had become a bit unruly too, but it was like he didn’t take your clear suffering seriously.

Mean and happy - unruly and suffering. What a pair you were. One of the workers, KAte Laswell, who was a big helper and often stayed over for dinner, suggested a fucking shock collar. You had growled, only stopped when John sent you a sharp look. 

You had even heard him talking over the phone with somebody, saying that he didn’t want to rehome you, but he didn’t know what to do.

That had made you melt a little and you had cried as you had crawled into his bed a couple of hours later, begging him to not abandon you. Fears of never getting to see John again or being loved again by him made you cling onto him as he kissed away your tears, gently fucking you.

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

It was a random morning a couple of days later, that you found him still in the kitchen, reading the newspaper, humming to himself while smoking a cigar.

He looked nice like this. Despite how he sometimes muttered about being too old, he wasn’t really that old. Late thirties, and perhaps it was the peace on his face or the sun rays that kissed him, which made him look younger. But still. There was a decade between you, but days like this, you were reminded that it didn’t matter.

“Are you going to stare all day or are you going to join me, Darling?” He asked teasingly, pulling you from your thoughts. You let out a little huff and kissed him good morning, receiving a pat on the ass before you sat down on your own seat. It had been a while since the two of you had eaten together - often he was up at the crack of dawn, so his calm behavior and gentle humming was unusual to say the least.

“Why are you not working?” You asked carefully, as you ate some of the bread, trying to ignore how it wasn’t a fancy sourdough one - though you were pretty sure he had picked it up from a local bakery in the village which was a little drive away.

“Because,” he put the paper down, then tapping some ash off the cigar into his ashtray, before looking over at you, a pleased smile on his face, “you and I are going on a trip.”

“A trip?” You didn’t even bother to be embarrassed about how your voice got higher with excitement or how your tail thumped against the backrest of the chair as you wagged it, “where are we going? When? Can we go now?”

Price had laughed, a happy sound that you knew not many got to hear; it made your heart beat a little faster, made you feel butterflies in your stomach. 

“Well, we got to do a few things first to get ready, and you ,” he used the cigar to point at you, your tail wagging a little faster, “need to not freak out when I tell you where we are going.”

Despite the warning, tears streamed down your cheeks when he told you. John didn’t get mad as a part of you had expected; he knew your abandonment issues first hand, knew how you had been left behind before, from one bad owner to another. 

“You’re going to sell me and leave me with a mean owner and I’m gonna die of hunger and thirst - and - and —“

“Not gonna leave you, princess,” John crooned, covering your face in kisses as you hiccuped and sniffled, clinging to his clothes, “you know that. My favorite puppy. Pretty girl.”

Despite your tears and small sobs, your tail wagged at his words, “silly puppy,” he mused with a smile, gently scratching your lower back, “‘m not gonna sell you. Ale and Rodolfo are looking for a hybrid, I figured we could go look at the auction as well.”

“What if - what if - what if you’ll like them more?” You sniffled dramatically, sure that your life was only going to become worse than it already was. One thing was this bloody farm and the crate, another thing was having to share Price. You didn’t like the idea one bit. If that happened, you were going to show him how a proper tantrum was thrown - the crate would probably be the least of your worries.

As if to prove his love, John bent you over the table, fucking you in between the clattering dishes and cutlery, tea and coffee almost spilling over. Despite how many times your owner fucked you, it made you lose control of your mind every single time. His cock reached so deep inside you that it bordered on pain, your mouth open as you panted and moaned at each thrust; your soft stomach being pressed against the edge of the table, one hand holding onto the back of your collar, the other on your tail. The table rattled, John groaned and moaned, your fingers desperately trying to hold onto anything. 

“My princess,” he snarled darkly into your ear, “you’ll always be mine-“ a moan, a grunt, “- no matter what happens, yeah?”

“Yes ye-ah- yes, sir, I’m yours - ah ah - I’m yours!” you managed in between pants and wails of pleasure, fear of abandonment forgotten in the ocean of euphoric satisfaction. 

You came harder than you had for a while; the reminder of your worth, of how you deserved his worship, making you cream around his throbbing length, legs in spasms afterwards. He pushed deeper, filling you up with a loud roar like sound, his hands moving to grab onto the fat of your ass and hips as he came. Pain and pleasure made your toes curl and a content sigh left you, your tail wagging against Price as he chuckled.

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

The auction hall was filled to the brim with humans and hybrids alike. Every owned hybrid followed their respective owners, all wearing mandatory leashes so no pets would be confused with the ones that were being sold. You wore your own pink one with pride, gem stones sparkling. A matching leash connected to the D-ring on it, that also bore your tags. You were convinced yours were the most beautiful in this entire place.

“They’re bonded,” Laswell pointed out, pointing to the papers that hung nearby, showing off general information about them, “gotta get all three.”

You dared to look at the little board with the informations about the three hybrids they were looking at.

“Ah, we don't have space for three, mi amor.”

“eso es una pena,” Rodolfo answered, while you looked over at John - who kept looking at the three hybrids. You dared to peek over at them.

All three of them were enormous .

Two of them wore muzzles, meaning they were biters. At least at the auction. You shouldn’t judge then, not really, but you did... Even though you had worn a muzzle five years ago, when Price had chosen you. You hadn’t tried biting people out of malice; you had been scared and angry at the world. Angry for being abandoned once more, over the fact that you were most likely being passed on to another abusive master. You leaned a little closer to Price, taking in his scent.

Even from the start, despite all the problems and your attitude problems, he had been sweet. Strict at times — probably not enough — but kind.

The biggest one looked like a Great Pyrenees breed, most likely. The fur on his ears and tail looked shorter, badly cut. Probably due to matting or if he refused to get it cut. His hair, a dark blonde almost brown, was in a buzz cut. He had scars, all over - unable to hide because of the lack of clothes most hybrids were given, only underwear. There was a lot in his face, though you suspected a bunch were hidden by the muzzle. He stared into nothing, his ears curled back, though they moved now and again, listening to different sounds.

“Hard to get sold,” Laswell commented and you looked over at her in synchronicity with John, “they’re ex-military.”

Like he had been called to them, a man who wore one of the seller badges appeared.

“They’re obedient once they fall into place,” he happily explained, going full seller-mode, “they’re just not too fond of the auctions - too many people.”

“Makes sense,” Price mused, clearly interested - much to your annoyance. The fact that he asked follow up questions made you frown, fingers tightening in his shirt. He was here to look. To help Alejandro and Rodolfo, who both had continued their walk. You dared to look over at the hybrids again. All three were staring at you and John. 

“How come they were discharged?”

“One of them got a hearing loss -“ he nodded towards them, “the one with the mohawk. And they’re a bonded pack.”

“So only retiring him was out of the question,” John concluded once more looking over at them.

You felt your tail go in between your legs. He couldn’t be seriously considering those three . you couldn’t help but let out a small whine. Price gave your leash a little tug.

“They’re working dogs,” the seller continued, his eyes flickering to you, making you huff, “so they’ll need something to do, not just be pets.”

“Oh I know. I have a farm. Need some work dogs - this one isn’t guarding much.”

They all laughed, your tail going even further between your legs with embarrassment.

“You can’t be serious,” you whined in a whisper to John, not caring that you sounded needy - spoiled would Laswell had said and you ignored her as she rolled her eyes.

“Hush, Princess.” John didn’t even look at you.

“You have animals there?” The seller asked, “one of them is a herding dog - the border collie.”

“I do - several. That’s why there's a need for guarding dogs as well, bloody wolves have been terrorizing us.”

You knew he was telling the truth; he had muttered about dead sheeps and goats several times - even a calf had lost its life to the wolves in the area, despite he and Laswell having shot two already. Even foxes had gotten into the coop, despite the fences.

“They’re good at that too, with their training,” the seller offered, clearly interested in selling them or at least getting John to bid on them. “The one with the mohawk, Soap , will have hearing aids with him, so you don’t need to worry about that.”

You looked over at this “Soap”, scrunching your nose. They were still staring, the biggest one bending down to listen to the third one, a beautiful black man, whisper in his ear. No doubt judging you.

“It says here they don’t do well with others,” you muttered, in a desperate attempt to sway John, pointing to the board with their papers. It did indeed say so, to which you wanted to argue that YOU should be his main focus in this whole thing - how would he even consider adding them to your household if these dogs could get a hold of you?

“It’s in the sense that they’re not really housetrained to be social family pets,” the seller swooped in, pushing your argument away, annoying you even more, “they’ve had missions all their lives. They need to have something to do.”

“I’m sure you’ll get along with them, sweetheart,” Price answered, giving you a small scratch beneath your chin as he finally looked over at you, a glint in his eyes, “some company will do you good.”

You huffed, crossing your arms. Hardly . Price’s smile told you that he thought this was a great idea however. You dared to look at the men again. Still staring, fucking bastards.

The black man seemed like a mix of some breeds, German shepherd and… you looked shortly at the board. Belgian malinois. Fancy. He wasn’t as tall as the big one, but broad and with scars as well. There was a more slender look to him, but his six pack proved he was strong. His curly hair wasn’t too long, probably cut not too long ago. He was looking at you curiously, making you raise your upper lip a little, as if to warn him.

The one with the hearing loss looked like some sort of border collie - covered in scars as well, some of his skin looking like it had been too close to fire. He was broad like the two others, his upper arms the size of your head. He even sent you a cheeky grin, even daring to wink at you. You just looked away, tipping your chin up a little.

“You can look closer if you want, sir?”

You were pulled back into the conversation at once and before you could argue, John had already passed on your leash to Laswell and walked towards the men with the seller. You whined, distressed that he was really, actually considering this.

“You’ll be fine,” Laswell commented calmly, with empathy in her voice for once, though she didn’t look at you, merely at John and the others.

“He is gonna lose interest in me,” you whined, perhaps a little dramatically, bottom lip wobbling a little as you could feel tears welling up in your eyes, “then he’ll leave me in the crate all day and only care about them an—“

“Calm down,” Laswell said, “you’ll work yourself into a fuss.”

“He can’t do this to me,” you argued in a sullen voice, already imagining John forgetting all about you, focusing on these three hybrids for the rest of his life, leaving you cold and lonely inside the dog crate - maybe even rehoming you, “he promised he wouldn’t get rid of me.”

“You’re being dramatic,” Laswell answered just as calmly as before, “John loves you too much, you’re just being spoiled. Hanging out with some working dogs will do you good.”

“They probably have fleas,” you said, your prejudices seeping into your words, knowing you’re being mean, judgmental against your own kind, “they’ll kill me and eat my dead body.”

Laswell laughed. “No they won’t. Worst thing they’ll do, is probably knock you up.”

A high pitched, scandalized sound left you, despite knowing you had an implant. Laswell laughed again, giving your leash a little yank and then scratching you behind your long ears.

“Settle, Princess. That won’t happen without John’s permission.”

You almost cried at the sight of John shaking the seller’s hand.

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

They all met up again for the actual auction part and you sat at John’s feet, sniffling a little. Crying hadn’t helped, in fact John had just petted and kissed you, calling you sensitive. Alejandro had gotten a hybrid earlier that they didn’t need to bid on - she was for sale for a certain price. Something about being too intense without enough space to roam, having attacked others before.

Fucking great. Beasts all around you.

John won the bidding on the three working dog hybrids he had been interested in - because of course he did. He spent way too much money on them too, according to you.

One more - or well, three more fucking things to hate about this “farming life” that had been forced upon you.

Maybe John had gone mad.

next chapter ->

[simp-ly-writes]

╰┈➤ Status: "completed"

Relationship: poly! 141 x gn! reader

Summary: You had quit the military after an incident and have been working as a freelance photographer for many years and had built a platform for yourself. But when an offer comes knocking at your door, will you relive your past while trying not to get yourself killed in the process or choose to live a more reserved life to yourself? The decision you make is not an easy one- yet the people you meet along the way may sway the opinions you hold about your future and your relationships.

Chapters: (pt.1) (pt.2) (pt.3) (pt.4) (pt.5) (pt.6) (pt.7) (pt.8) (pt.9) (pt.10) word count: 50,000 words (100 pages)

Series Quotes:

Quote From Kyle Garrick (said in pt.2)

Quote from Fish #1 (said in pt.6)

Quote from Fish #2 (said in pt.6)

╰┈➤ *✧･ﾟ:* Thank you for checking in, more to come soon! *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ

[cmncisspnandmore]

All hands on deck -Part 3

Parings: Poly!Taskforce141 X Wife!Reader

Warnings: None?

Word count: 7844

Not beta read or edited, all mistakes are mine.

Previous: Part 2

2 months. 8 weeks. 56 days.1,344 hours. 80,640 minutes.

That’s how long John, Kyle, Simon and Johnny had been gone.

You rest your head on your hand, sitting on the dark brown chair in the corner of the playroom. Your mug of peppermint tea sitting on a coaster next to you, Right next to the book Kyle was reading before he left. Hope sits on the floor, smashing wooden blocks together, her little cheeks flushed pink. Her short brown hair pulled up in two tiny pigtails. Theo lays on the oversized bean bag, rubbing his eyes furiously. 

“Mama,” he whines, and you look over, blinking rapidly as you focus on the 4 year old.

“Yes baby?” 

“I want Papa!” he cries, head tipping back as a harsh sob leaves his lips. 

“I know baby, i know,” you frown, standing from your chair, walking over to the overtired toddler and picking him up.He presses his face into the side of your neck.

“I want Papa,” he whines again, his voice tired. For the past 2 weeks Theo had refused to go to bed, throwing monumental fits, throwing himself to the ground and crying for hours. Nothing you did soothed him, it always ended the same way, you sitting outside his bedroom door, your own tears trailing down your cheeks as you listened to him cry himself to sleep. The days with him weren't much easier, his overtiredness causing every small thing to be a battle. He had started going after Hope, hitting her, biting her, and then in turn hitting you when you tried to break them up.

The only saving grace for your sanity was that the older children had school during the day. With 3 of your 5 children gone from the house 8 hours a day you were at least able to have some semblance of order. But the house was nowhere near where you wanted it to be. The dishes piled up in the sink. Laundry wasn't done, and the entire house needed to be deep cleaned. But there wasn't enough time in the day.

You felt like you were drowning, an engine running without gas. Between waking up at every small sound in the house, Theo’s refusal to sleep, and getting up at 5am each morning to get breakfast and lunches done for the older kids. Not to mention the never ending errands you had to run, going to the grocery store, bringing Kira to gymnastics, Joseph to football, Isla to ballet. 

You were exhausted.

Theo sniffles into your neck, and you rub his back gently, trying to soothe him. 

“I want Papa,” he says softly, his tears soaking the collar of your pink blouse. 

“I know, I wish I knew when he was going to be home,” you breathe. Your lips brush over his cheek, your hand making small circles on his back. Hope toddles over to you, her hands gripping your pant legs. Her big blue eyes turned up towards you.

“Up! Up!” she demands, her hands pulling on your yoga pants. You crouch and pick her up, settling her on your other hip. Theo notices and reaches over smacking her in the face. It takes Hope a moment to register what happened and she starts screaming. 

“Theo!” you scold, putting the 4 year old on his feet. He stares up at you with his brown eyes. Tiny brows furrowed in anger.

“No! No Hope! I don't like her!” he screams, raising his tiny fists to beat against your leg. You cradle Hope to your chest as Theo beats on your thigh. Big tears stream down her cheeks, a tiny hand print on her face, 

“Theo we don't hit, it's not nice.” You sigh, looking down at him. His face is red and angry as he continues to hit you. “Damnit Theo ENOUGH!” You yell, and he stops immediately, his lower lip trembling. You watch as his face scrunches up and he starts to scream. 

“I no like you Mama!” he screeches before he takes off from the playroom, his angry footsteps disappearing down the hall. You close your eyes, your head pounding, Hope still crying softly in your arms. Theo’s angry screams down the hall, you take a deep breath. Trying to compose yourself, as you walk down the hallway. 

“Do you want some strawberries? Will that make you feel better?” You ask Hope, and she stops crying almost immediately. You shake your head, she was definitely one of your husbands kids, food seemed to be the cure all for her. You walk down the hall and set her in her highchair. You see Theo’s feet peeking out from under the island counter, but don't say anything. You know if you said something to him he would just lash out at you. He was like a tightly wound spring, one wrong move and he exploded. 

You grab the container of berries from the fridge and start cutting them into small pieces, plating them on one of Hope’s tiny pink plates. You deposit them on her tray and she digs in, hands fisting as much fruit as she can. She shoves fistfull after fistfull into her mouth.  Strawberry juice dribbled down her chin, staining her yellow dress pink.  

A little hand grabs the bottom of your pants as you put the knife into the kitchen sink. You glance down, Theos small hand grips the black fabric tight. You kneel down, knees cracking as you come face to face with your overtired four year old.

“Sowwy Mama…” he says softly, looking down at the cream tile.

“I accept your apology, but we don’t use our hands to hit people. It’s not nice, Hope didn’t do anything to you. I know you miss Papa, Dad, Da and Daddy. I wish I could make them appear so they could hug you sooo tight they squish all the sad outta you, but I can’t. And I miss them too, Theo. It’s okay to be upset, but it’s not okay to use your hands to hurt people, okay?” You rub your fingers over the backs of his hands, and he nods. Brown curls falling into his face, you brush them back smiling softly at him.

“C’mon, how about you have a snack before we go pick up the twins and Isla from the bus stop, does that sound nice?” You reach for him, pulling him to his feet. He nods, “we have any blueberries?” 

“We sure do,” you smile, and Theo races to a chair, scrambling up it. He rests his elbows on the table, and watches as you grab them from the fridge and put them back in a bowl for him.

You take a seat opposite of him, watching as he eats the small blue fruit. Your head resting on your hand, your head still pounds. Each beat of your heart is like a hammer in your head. You rub your temples, wincing as Hope starts to bang her plate on the high chair tray.

“More! More! More!” she laughs, the plate clattering to the floor. 

“Okay, okay, you can have a few more,” you push back your chair, grabbing her plate from the floor, you squick some blueberries for her, and give her back the plate. Theo and Hope eat their fruit happily, your eyes flickering to the clock on the wall. It was almost time to go to the bus stop to get the other kids. 

“Eat up my friends, we gotta go get your siblings in a moment,” you muse, walking down the hall. You collect Theo and Hope's shoes, after slipping on a pair of flats. Theo’s dinosaur sneakers are tattered and in need of replacing. You sigh as the velcro closure hangs on by mere threads. It was always something. You kneel in front of Hope’s highchair and slide her baby pink crocs onto her feet. Her face smeared in pink and purple juices from her snack. You wipe her mouth with your sleeves, staining your shirt. You could hear Simon's voice in your head, grumbling about trying to get stains out of your shirts. A smile ticked up on your lips, he did most of the laundry when they were home. He claimed the monotonous task quieted his mind, much like when he cleaned his gun. He would always scold you for using your shirt or pants to wipe the various messes off the children. At one point he was convinced you did it just to punish him. 

Not that it was your intention. You never did it maliciously to give him more to do, but with 5 kids it was faster to just use your shirt or pants to wipe small messes than find a rag. There was barely enough time to use your shirt before they smeared it over the furniture. 

The clock on the wall chimes, 3pm, the soft melodic song pulling you from your thoughts. You quickly slip on Theo’s shoes, and pull Hope from her high chair. 

“Lets go my friend, time to get the others,” you hold your hand. Theo climbs off the chair, shoving his last berry in his mouth. His tiny hand slips into yours, as you walk down the hall. Pulling open the front door you glance around, hoping that maybe the black sub they took to base would be pulling down the driveway, but it was empty. Only the discarded bikes and sidewalk chalk there. The chalk drawings faded from the sun, and various shoes walked across it.

The bus stop was at the end of your street, about a 5 minute walk from your house. Theo holds your hand the whole way, eagerly looking at the houses as you pass them. He points out all the different color flowers that are starting to bloom in your neighbors yards. A group of parents stand at the end of the street, all of them talking among themselves. 

“Mama! Piper!” Theo exclaims tugging on your hand as he spots his friend. Piper was your next door neighbor Maria’s daughter. She was the youngest of 3, only a few months older than Theo. 

“Alright go on, but stay on the grass,” You call after him as he pulls away from you, little legs carrying him towards the red headed toddler. Piper notices his running, and jumps up and down tugging on her mothers dress. Maira says something to her and she runs up to Theo, pulling him over to the grass on the edge of the street. Threry sink into the grass, plucking flowers from the ground and making them into a pile.

“Hey” Maria greets you as you walk up to the group. A few other parents giving you a small wave.

“Hi,” You smile, shifting Hope higher on your hip.

“Hello Little Missy,” Maria greets Hope, her hands coming to snatch her from you. She settles Hope on her hip, Hopes hands playing with the beaded necklace she wears. ‘How’ve you been? Have they come home yet?”

“Not yet,” you shake your head and Maria reaches out, her hand squeezing your arm lightly.

“I’m sorry, love, hopefully they’ll be home soon,” she gives you a reassuring smile.

“I hope so,” you run your hand through your hair. “The past few weeks have been a lot.” 

“You look tired, if you need anything let me know,” Maria pats your arm. “I’ll watch this little cutie for you any day, and Piper had been begging for Theo to come over and play. Maybe we can set up a playdate for them later this week? I can take them for a few hours and you can get some rest.” 

Your eyes water, Maria was always so kind to you. She knew what it was like to have a husband who was gone alot. Her own husband worked a lot overseas in the states, she would often just stop over with a meal for your family when she knew the guys were gone. 

“Oh hun, don’t cry.” She whispers, pulling you towards her. Her arms wrapping around your shoulders, Hope smushed between you two as she embraced you.

“Sorry, I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” you wipe at the tears that collect on your lower lash line.

“Don’t apologize, you’ve got a lot on your plate, I’ get overwhelmed with 3, I can’t imagine 5. Kids are a lot of work, and it’s not like they’re sitting in an office somewhere like my Michael. They’re out god knows where putting their lives on the line. I at least get the comfort of knowing Michael is in a hotel room each night safe. I couldn’t imagine not knowing where my husband was, if he was alright. And you have not 1 but 4 people to worry about.” Her hand rests on your shoulder, the warmth from her palm seeping through the fabric of your shirt.

“I know, I just feel so stupid being upset by it. It’s been almost 8 years of dealing with it. I mean god, I’ve been with them since I was 18,” you sniffle, taking a deep breath.

“8 years is a long time, they’ve been your safe place for most of your adult life. It’s hard to not know when you’ll get that security back. No one is judging you for having a hard time.” She adjusts Hope in her arms, switching her to the other hip. She studies you for a moment, before she leans in. “If there’s something you need to talk to me about, I’m a pretty good secret keeper.” Her eyes drift to your stomach before she looks back at your face. A suggestive smile on her lips.

“Oh, no! No!” You wave your hands in the air. “That’s not it at all, I haven’t even gotten my period back since Hope stopped breastfeeding. Soon hopefully,” you laugh, as the bus pulls up to the end of the street. 

“Okay..” Maria hums, handing your youngest back to you. Theo runs over to you grabbing your leg as he watches the bus doors open. A few neighborhood kids get off before you 3 do. Joseph spots you first, his black backpack over one shoulder, he runs over. Kira and Isla follow. 

“Are they home yet Mama?” Joseph asks, hope flaring in his blue eyes. Blue eyes that looked exactly like Johnny’s. 

“Not yet Babe, soon though,” you pat his head, running your fingers through his short brown hair. 

“It’s okay Mama,” he sighs, a frown on his lips as he shrugs his backpack up higher. Isla skips over, her bright pink sneakers lighting up.

“C’mon Theo I'll race you home!” Isla teases her younger brother, and they both take off. Isla clearly lets Theo stay ahead of her, she steps far shorter than normal.

“Stay on the side of the road please! And where I can see you!” You call after them. Kira and Joseph walk next to you. Both of them are unusually quiet on the walk home. Isla coaches Theo on stopping at each mailbox on the way back to the house. Always looking over her shoulder to make sure you weren't far behind.

“Everything okay?” You ask, bumping your hip into Kira’s shoulder.

Her blonde hair has started to come loose from her braid, stray tendrils of hair falling into her face. She shrugs slightly, kicking at a rock with her shoe.

“Someone said that we’re weird because we have 4 Dads and that there's no way we could have 4 dads that three of them aren't really our dads.” Joseph chimes in, swinging Hope's hand back and forth, as he walks next to you.

“That's not true, your fathers are most definitely your dads. They all love you,” you frown.

“But it’s true isn't it? I'm Daddy’s and Joseph is Da’s, Theo is Dad’s, and Hope and Isla are Papas… That's why my hair is blonde like Daddy’s and Theo’s skin is brown like Dads. Joseph, Isla and Hope all have blue eyes and brown hair because Da and Papa have brown hair and blue eyes,” Kira crosses her arms over her chest, one hand playing a strand of her blonde hair.

“Yes, you’re right about that. You may look like Daddy, but who reads you a story every night when he's home?” You touch her shoulder gently as you reach your driveway.

“Dad does,” She looks up at you with furrowed brows. 

“And who makes you whatever you want for breakfast on sunday morning?”

“Papa…” she trails off.

“And who gives you the best hugs when you’re sad? Besides me of course.” You smile,

“Da..”

“And who plays whatever game you want, whenever you want?”

A smile forms on her lips, “daddy.” 

“And all of those things are what Fathers do for their kids right?” You ask, setting Hope down in the front yard and she takes off towards Theo and Isla.

“Mhmm..” she stands in front of you, as you crouch down. Your hands holding hers, giving them a soft squeeze.

“So just because you might be Daddy’s kid biologically, doesn't mean your fathers don't love any less, or love any of the other kids more. All of them love so much, and they would do anything for any of you guys. They are no less your dad just because you don't have the same blood type or the same hair color. Because family isn't about who you’re related to, it's about who loves you. If you were to ask any of them how many kids they had, they would say they have 5 beautiful, smart, kind and caring kids. Kids they love more than anything in the entire world, and nothing will ever change that. A lot of people have more than one Mom or dad. You remember Sophie right, she used to live down the street before she moved.” You gently tuck some of the loose hair behind her ear.

“Yeah, Sophie had two Moms because her Dad married someone else after her mom died,” She nods a small smile on her lips.

“So see, people can have more than one or dad, because all that matters is that they love you. So next time someone is mean to you, you just remember that your fathers love you so much, Kira. And nothing will ever change that.” You pull her to you and hug her, her arms wrapping around your neck. Her blonde hair tickles your cheek as she hugs you tight. Over her shoulder you watch as Hope chews on Islas backpack strap, Theo and Isla rolling around in the grass, Isla doing forward rolls and Theo trying to copy his older sister. Joseph watches you and Kira from the front steps. A smile forming on his lips, as you smile at him.

Your poor sensitive boy had been worried about Kira, he didn't like it when she was upset. Even as a baby whenever Kira would cry his little body would stiffen up, all his muscles tense until someone comforted her. For the longest time you had them sleeping in the same cot. When you tried to separate them they screamed and cried. You had been worried about safe sleep, insisting that they sleep separately. It was Kyle who suggested putting them in the same cot. After 5 days of little to no sleep you finally caved, and as soon as you laid Kira next to Joseph they both drifted off instantly. Little bodies pressed against each other. 

It made sense, when you thought about it. They had only ever known life with another person stuck to their side. They couldn't understand why it had changed when they were born.

Now looking at your almost 8 year olds your heart aches. You loved them fiercely and the thought of people giving them a hard time about their dads made you crazy. Why couldn’t people just leave it alone, it’s not like you were hurting anyone. Your lifestyle didn’t cause anyone harm, no one was dead because you had four husbands.

There wasn't some catastrophic event that would happen because you found happiness in the arms of four men. 

“Okay, Mama,” Kira pulls back slightly so there's some distance between you two. “Can we get pizza for dinner?” 

You can't help the laugh that bubbles out of you, and you give her a small nod. “Sure Baby, let's all go inside. I’ll help you with your homework and then we’ll order pizza.” 

Your back rests against Theos bedroom door, your ass went numb an hour ago. He had stopped crying, the camera app pulled up on your phone showing him laying across his bed, little legs hanging off his bed. His mouth opens as he snores softly.  

After dinner it was a shit show. Hope threw up all her pizza, Theo decided to draw on the walls, Kira and Joseph got in a huge screaming match over whose turn it was to pick a movie. And Isla had accidentally run into the glass cabinet in the dining room and broke it, earning herself a small cut on her hand. 

Your night ended with Theo throwing the world's longest tantrum because his Papa still wasn't home to tuck him in. 

You weren't sure how much more of this you could take. Your entire body hurt, your head pounded with each beat of your heart. Every muscle felt like you went 10 rounds with Simon. Your head knocks softly against the door, as you look up at the white ceiling of the hallway. 

It was almost 2 in the morning and despite how bone crushingly tired you were, you couldn't find it in you to get up. To crawl into your massive bed and lay there, missing your men. Sleeping alone for most people was a luxury, especially for someone who had as big of a bed as yours. But to you, the empty bed with more pillows and blankets than one person could need was a constant reminder that they weren't home. 

You had tried calling their cell phones earlier, knowing that it would just go straight to voicemail. You had just needed to hear their voices, hoping it would give you the strength to get through the night. 

Tears prick the back of your eyes, your throat constricting with emotion. You missed them so much it was starting to physically hurt. You could feel the hole in your chest growing with each passing day. You couldn’t hold back the tears anymore, and they started to fall rapidly. Your breathing turns harsh and rapid as you fold over on yourself. Hands gripping your knees as you sob. Your spine digs into the hard wood of the door behind you, but you barely notice. The physical discomfort is no match for the bone deep ache in your heart. Each breath is like a million tiny needles embedding into your lungs as you struggle to pull in oxygen. 

Your soft sobs echo through the hallway, and you’re honestly surprised you haven’t woken one of your children. Pulling your bottom lip between your teeth you bite back a scream that threatens to rip from you. Your vision becomes spotty as you hyperventilate, and eventually it becomes too much and you drift off into a dreamless sleep.

Warm hands, soft voices, the smell of jasmine and vanilla. Another set of hands, these ones larger. A different scent, one of gunpowder and leather. 

“C’mon Darling, open your beautiful eyes,” a gruff voice coaxed.

John.

“She’s not runnin’ a fever…” another voice, this one laced with an accent.

Johnny.

“Baby? Can you hear us?” A warm palm brushes over your forehead.

Kyle.

“Give her a minute, the poor thing looks exhausted.”

Simon.

Your eyes flutter open and you blink at the harsh overhead light from the ceiling fan over your bed. People swim at the edges of your vision and you rub your eyes, trying to focus. When you pull your hands away from your eyes, you have a sudden feeling of Deja vu. Four sets of eyes peer down at you. Two sets of blue, two sets of brown. 

“There you are,” John's lips tip up in a small smile.

“I’m not dead right?” You whisper, voice hoarse. 

“No, Baby, you’re alive,” Kyle laughs slightly, his warm hand coming to brush along your cheek. You lean into his hand, the warmth from his fingers seeping into the skin of your cheek. You look at the others, they’re still wearing their fatigues, you push yourself up onto your elbows. 

“When did you get home?” You ask, your gaze landing on Simon. He stands against the wall opposite your bed. Eyebrows furrowed as he watched you like a hawk.

 “20 minutes ago,” Johnny answers, slipping onto the bed next to you, he pulls you towards him. He cradles you against his chest, his lips brushing your cheek.

“You were asleep outside Theo’s door, you look exhausted Darling,” John puts his boonie hat on the dresser, and pulls his gun out of the waistband of his pants. He walks over, shoving Johnny over for a second to grabs his as well. John disappears into the walk-in closet and you can hear the beep of the electronic lock for their gun safe. 

“Oh…” you murmur as Johnny tucks you under his chin, his hands rubbing up and down your sides.

“I take things have been rough?” Kyle sits on the other side of you. As if on cue, the baby monitor for Theo’s room screeches to life. 

“Mama!!! I want Papa!!” Theo’s little voice crackles over the monitor.

John pokes his head out of the closet, wearing a T-shirt and sweatpant. “That’s my cue,” he mutters, walking over to the bed and dropping a kiss to your head. He slips from the room, and a moment later you hear Theo’s bedroom door open.

“Papa?” Theo’s voice is small and sleepy.

“Hi buddy, you looking for me?” John says quietly.

Simon reaches forward and switches off the monitor. Before he disappears into the closet to change as well.

“Missed you Mo Chridhe..” Johnny kisses your shoulder and hair.

“Not as much as I missed all of you,” you smile, grabbing Kyle’s hand and squeezing softly.

“Go change MacTavish, you’re gonna ruin my sheets,” Simon grunts. “Stop hogging the wife too,” he crosses his arms over his chest and stares down at you and Johnny. 

Johnny sighs and climbs off the bed and Simon slips into his spot, pulling you basically on top of him. His lips press to the side of your head as he anchors his arms around your waist. You look at his face, the dark circles under his eyes and a new cut through his eyebrow. Every muscle in his body is tense. You feel like you’re cuddling a rock wall more than your husband.

Kyle heads into the bathroom leaving you and Simon alone for a few moments. You rest your head on his large chest, his heart beating frantically against his ribs.

“It’s okay Si… you’re home now.. you can relax,” you gently rub your fingers over his jaw. The muscles twitching under your fingers.

He lets out a long breath, his hands coming up to cup your cheeks as he presses his mouth to yours. He pours everything into the kiss, his worries, his anxiety, the love he feels for you. He leaves you breathless as he pulls back.

“Get some sleep, Lovie. You need it.” Simon lets you go slightly so you can settle into your spot in the middle of the bed. Kyle flicks the light switch off and climbs in behind Simon, his arm over Simon’s body and resting on your hip. A few seconds later Johnny slips into bed facing you, his hand grabbing yours.your eyes grow heavy as he settles the blankets over you. The soft click of the bedroom door, followed by a slight shift in the mattress as John climbs in, the last thing you remember before you drift off to sleep.

You wake the next morning, bed empty, and you sit up. Did you dream of them coming home?

You glance around the room, but when your eyes settle on John’s boonie hat and Simon’s skull balaclava sitting on the dresser, you know you didn’t.

Slipping from the bed you change into a pair of leggings and a top, quickly brushing your teeth. You can hear laughter from the floor below as you walk down the hall. All the kids' bedroom doors are open, and the scent of pancakes floats up the stairs.

“Daddy! Daddy! Look, this one looks like a smiley face!” Joseph laughs.

“Nice job bud, can you make another?” Simon’s deep voice replies.

You round the corner and pause in the doorway, Theo is snuggled up on John’s chest, as John sits in a chair. His large hands rubbed the four year olds back.

Hope sits in her high chair, Kyle perched on the edge of the table as he rips up a pancake for her. Her tiny hands are grabbing the pieces faster than he can place them. 

Kira and Isla are sitting with Johnny at the table eating, their faces covered in sticky syrup, chocolate from the pancakes on their fingers.

“Hi Mama!” Joseph is the first to notice you, your shadowy figure at the edge of the doorway. All eyes snap to you, your children smiling before going back to what they were doing. Your husbands regard you for a few extra moments. Gaz only momentarily before Hope smacks her hands on her tray, demanding the man in front of her rip her pancake faster. 

John smiles at you over Theo’s head, his head tipping towards the full coffee pot. He knew you well, the first thing you needed in the morning was a caffeine fix. Johnny watches as you walk to the coffee pot, pouring yourself a cup and adding all your favorite mix ins. 

“Did ya sleep well?” He asks, wiping syrup from the table with a wet cloth.

“I did, best I’ve slept in awhile actually,” you hold the warm mug between your hands. You peer over the kitchen island where Simon is standing with Joseph making pancakes. He pours the batter onto the hot griddle before Joseph carefully drops various toppings into it. Blueberries for some, and chocolate chips for others.

“What kind do you want mama?” The boy asks, a smile on his lips as he shoves a stray chocolate chip into his mouth.

“I’m okay baby, thank you,” you walk over kissing his cheek before stretching up on your toes to kiss Simon’s. Simon’s brown eyes flicker over to you, but he doesn’t say anything just observing you.

You slide into a bar stool and watch as they continue to make stacks of pancakes. Once they are out of batter Simon plates two pancakes for Joseph, steering him in the direction of the table for him to eat. You raise your mug to your lips taking a small sip of your coffee. Your nose scrunching as the liquid slides over your tongue. Your stomach rolls slightly as you take another sip. You set the mug down on the counter, looking up to see Simon once again watching you. His hands held the empty bowl of pancake batter. 

“Something wrong with the coffee?” He inquires and you swear his eyes can see right through to your very soul. 

“I think the cream might be bad,” you push the mug away from you. Suddenly John’s hand is wrapping around the mug and he takes a sip. He’s quiet for a moment before he sets the cup down.

“Kira, Joseph, Isla, get ready for school,” John looks over at the kids who are staring at all of you. They quickly scramble from the room. Their footsteps race up the stairs as they run to their rooms to change.

“When did you find out?” He asks, and you look up at him puzzled.

“What?” 

“You don’t have to hide it, baby. We weren’t kidding when we said it before we left.” Kyle pulls Hope from her high chair and comes to stand around the counter with the other two.

“Said what?” You look between Simon, Kyle and John, your eyes flickering between them all. Johnny comes over, dropping the kids plates into the large sink.

“About wanting another bairn,” he crosses his arms over his chest. A smirk on his face as he looks at you.

“I’m not pregnant.” You blurt out, running your hands over your face. When you pull your hands from your face they’re all staring at you with doubtful looks on their faces. “I’m not!” 

“The only time you don’t like coffee is when you’re pregnant,” Simon states like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“When was your last period?” Kyle asks, shifting Hope up higher in his arms.

“I haven’t gotten one since Hope stopped breastfeeding, that’s normal though,” you cross your arms over your chest.

“Did you not learn anything the last time you thought that?” Johnny laughs, and you cheeks flame. Okay so maybe they had a point, the last time you didn’t get a period after you stopped breastfeeding was when you got pregnant with Isla 3 months after the twins were born. 

“Sod off,” you grumble, getting off the stool and storming up the stairs. 

“Lovie! Don’t be like that, we aren’t mad!” Simon calls after you, but you don’t miss the laughter in his voice. 

“I’ll prove you wrong! Just gimme a moment!” You slam the bathroom door closed, and drop to your knees in front of the bathroom vanity. You pull out baskets of random items. Gauze, kids hair brushes, extra tooth paste, a Barbie doll that went missing months ago. A half used box of tissues, and more. You finally spot what you’re looking for, a box of digital pregnancy tests you kept in the back of the vanity.

You don’t bother shoving anything back under the vanity, as you quickly pee on the test strip and put the blue plastic cover on. You jog back down the stairs, the test in your hand as you place it on the counter in front of them. The little digital screen blinks, the bars creeping ever so slow as you give each of them a glare. 

John puts Theo on the floor and the 4 year old runs off, his own tiny feet going up the stairs as he goes to find his siblings. Kyle sets Hope on the counter, and she smacks the countertop with her hands, laughing at the sound that echoes through the quiet kitchen. 

“Darling, we want as many children as you’ll give us,” John reaches over and flips the test over so no one can see the digital screen. 

“We already have 5, how many more could we possibly need?” You sit on the bar stool, as Simon hands Hope 2 wooden spoons for her to play with. She shoves one in her mouth and waves the other around, almost smacking Gaz in the face. 

“I’d like 3 more,” Johnny answers, leaning his forearms against the counter. 

“8 Children total?” You stare at him, unable to wipe the slightly horrified look off your face. “You realize that there would be 13 people in our family at that point right?” 

“What's got you shaken up Mo Chridhe?” he frowns at you.

“I-I don't know if i can handle 8 kids alone….” You whisper, your voice shaking.

You could barely keep the 5 you had already alive when they were gone. Add in 3 more and you were sure you weren't going to survive. But you loved your children, and had always wanted a huge family. It was something you dreamed of as a child, and you knew how much each of your husbands adored the children. Were you really ready to never have a newborn baby again? Never experience the first time a baby smiles or laughs. Your gaze flickers to Hope, as she sits on the counter top, drool trailing down her chin as she gnaws on the wooden spoon. Kyle watches her, a smile on his face as she smiles at him. 

“We talked a lot on this last deployment, and we agreed we would be stepping back a lot,” John comes to stand behind your chair, his hands rubbing up and down your back.

“But you’re the best at what you do… I’d feel terrible if something catastrophic happened because you were home instead of where you were needed.” You look between the 3 of them in front of you.

“Love, here is where we’re needed,” Simon frowns.

“We’ve been doing this for a long time, longer than most task forces. It’s about time we think about passing the baton to another task force anyways. We’ve been talking with Laswell and she’d sent us some files of teams she thinks would be a good fit. We would train them, and we would still be working on base. But we wouldn't be deploying as much, only when we were really needed.” Kyle adds.

“We’ve been asked to help train and teach new recruits, we’ve got a lot of experience in the field, and it's helpful for them to learn from people who have been out there, seen what we have. We’ll still be doing what we love, but we’ll get to come home to our family every night. You won't have to worry if we’ll be coming back every time we walk out the door. You’d get the help with the children, and we’d get to see them more. Spend time with them. We’ve missed a lot over the years and we don't want to miss anymore.” Simon runs hand through his blonde hair, and your eyes fill with tears. 

“You’re not just doing it for me right? You want to step back right?” You look over your shoulder at John. 

“You’re part of the reason, but we’ve all taken a beating over the years. And it was getting time for us to retire anyways, we’re just doing it a few years earlier. But trust us Darling, we want to be home. Being out there doesn't give us the same thrill it did years ago. Being here, with you, that's what we look forward to.” John runs his fingers through your hair, and you nod. 

“Okay,” you breathe, your eyes falling to the flipped over test. 

“No matter what it says, we’ll be okay,” Kyle reaches across the table and rubs his fingers over your knuckles. 

“What do you want it to say?” Simon asks, drawing your attention to him. 

You chew your bottom lip, what did you want it to say?

You were happy with the 5 beautiful children you had. The twins, Isla, Theo and Hope, they were amazing children and you loved watching them everyday. But your family didn't feel complete. You didn't feel done, your heart still longed for more.You loved how close the kids you had now were, they were never alone, they always had someone to play with. And when the time came and none of you were around, they would still have each other. 

“I want more,” you finally answer, and all 4 of the men in your life smile. 

“Even if it's negative, we’ll keep trying okay?” John kisses the top of your head. Taking one last deep breath you reach forward and pick up the test. You look at all of them as they wait for you to flip it over. 

Your hands shake slightly as you flip over the little blue test, 5 sets of eyes peer down at the small screen. 

‘Pregnant, 3+’ stares back at you. 

Johnny is the first to move as he nearly climbs over Kyle and John to get to you. His arms wrap around your waist as he pulls you from the chair, and spins you around. His face is buried in your neck as he holds you tight. 

“You’re so fucking perfect,” he mumbles as he presses his lips to yours. 

“Get out of the way MacTavish,” John grumbles as he pulls you from Soap and into his arms, he presses a kiss to your lips as well. “I love you, thank you for giving us another.

“You don't have to thank me,” You laugh as you kiss him back.

Kyle is next, his hands settling on your waist as he pulls you in, his lips finding yours. “We do, because you’ve already given us 5, and we would never ask for more if it wasn't what you wanted.” 

Simon is the last, he pulls you in, his large hands on your hips as he leans down, his forehead bumping yours as you share a breath there. “You sure this is what you want?” He asks softly, you can hear the others move about the kitchen. Kyle takes Hope to put her shoes on. John and Soap call up the stairs for the older children to get their backpacks as they slip their lunchboxes into them.

“I’m sure,” you smile, “I want this.”

“As long as you’re sure,” Simon presses a kiss to your mouth before he hugs you tight. You wrap your arms around him, leaning your head on his chest. 

The sounds of footsteps running down the stairs pull you away, Isla, Kira, and Joseph file into the kitchen, their backpacks on, all dressed for school.

“We’re ready, can we all go to the bus stop this morning?” Joseph asks, looking between you and Simon.

“Sure bud, let me just put my shoes on,” you smile, you walk down the hall to grab your shoes and pull them on. The rest of your family waits, as you tie your sneakers.  John holds Hope in his arms, Simon holds Theo’s hand, Johnny and Kyle head out the door first. The children followed. You fall in step in the middle of your group, it was warm today. Warmer than normal for this time of year, but you didn't mind it. Although the unusual warmth usually brought thunderstorms. 

Those you weren’t too fond of. 

As you approach the bus stop you see the normal group of parents waiting with their children. Maria stands next to her two older boys standing with a group of friends, Piper sits on the grass, her little head lifting as you all approach. She waves enthusiastically to Theo, and Theo pulls away from Simon. Running as fast as his little legs will carry him to his friend. They sit in the grass, building a stack of rocks to see who can get it higher. 

Maria looks at you, a giant smile on her face as she sees your husband’s with you. 

“I see they came back!” she exclaims, as you and the others stop a few steps from her.

“Pleasure to see you again Maria,” John hugs her.

“Glad you made it back,” she smiles, hugging each of them, even Simon who stiffly hugs her back.

“We’ll be around a lot more,” Johnny smiles, his arm snaking around your waist as he pulls you into his side. 

“Oh?” Maria looks at them.

“We’re stepping back, we have much more important things here,” John explains, and Maria nods.

“I’m glad you’ll be around more,” she eyes you suspiciously. “Are you still going to tell me I'm wrong?” She gives you a pointed look.

“Ma- y- how does everyone always know before me! It's my bloody body.” You grumble, and Soap laughs. 

“We know what to look for,” Kyle kisses the side of your head.

“I just knew because even though you looked knackered, you still looked like you were glowing,” Maria laughs.

“Simon figured it out because of my coffee,” you grumble, crossing your arms over your chest. 

“I'm happy for you, dear. If you need anything let me know. Although I wonder how you’ll fit another in that house of yours. You’re quickly outgrowing it,” Maria adds as the bus pulls up. The older children all race off to get onto it, and wave you as they all climb on. 

“We haven't figured that much out yet,” you shrug, “I'm sure we’ll think of something.”

“I’m sure you will,” she hugs you. “Congratulations.”

“Thank you,” you hug her back.

“C’mon Theo! Time to go,” Simon calls and the small boy hugs his friend before he races over. 

You wave again to Maria and begin the walk back to the house, Hope having fallen asleep in John's arms. Her brown hair falling into her face as she sleeps peacefully. You look between the four men that walk with you.

“What are we going to do about the room… we don't have any more bedrooms.” You place your hand on your still flat stomach. How long did you have to prepare?

Where would you even put a baby? 

Isla still had her own room, and sure you could move Theo into there, but he still wasn't a good sleeper and you didn't want to ruin her sleep by him waking up. 

You could move the new baby into Hope's room with her but it might still cause problems with how frequently new babies wake up. She would be almost three and a half by the time the baby was going to be ready for their own room. And you certainly were going to need a bigger dining room table to be able to fit everyone. 

“We can always move, we’ve talked about moving in the past. Wanting to get out into the countryside more.  It would be a good time to buy right now anyways, interest rates are low. And I'm sure there’s something out in the rural parts that would be plenty big enough for us, and we can always add on. We don't really have enough land with the current house to add on, we’d be building too close to the neighbors.” John explains, as you get to the end of your driveway.

You stare at your house, you’ve been in it for 5 years, having moved in when you were pregnant with Isla, a month before she was due. The twins were still babies themselves. You loved the house, but it was too small for such a large family. With only 5 bedrooms, and 3 bathrooms it was becoming crowded. Your kitchen, although big enough for now, wasn't going to be able to accommodate everyone for much longer. And you always wanted a house with lots of land for the kids to play in. You had a decent sized yard now but it was nowhere near big enough for the swingset the kids kept asking for. 

And it wasn't like it was a small house. It had almost 3000 sqft, but when you have 5 children and one (possibly 2) on the way. You needed something bigger. Something with room to grow. 

“Okay, we’ll start looking at listings.” 

“So we’re gonna move?” Simon confirms.

“We’re moving,”

Next:

[imaginedreamwrite]

Thriving Thursday (maybe also thankful Thursday): pretty little thing family after omegas had the baby (or maybe a few more babies) and being thankful that shitty ex dropped them and that they sent in the application for the matchmaker service

You can’t help but stare when the little wrapped bundle nestles further into the broad chest of one of the most capably dangerous alpha’s you know. The sniper and soldier, calculating and dedicated to being a ghost on every operation he goes on, is dedicated to keeping your baby safe.

Every movement that could have woken your baby, that could have stirred them from the sleep they’re in on his chest, draws his ire. Johnny raised his voice to shout across the kitchen asking Kyle about something, and Simon could have killed Johnny with his eyes alone.

It was his time with the freshly born babe, this beautiful little boy that was going to be raised to be a good and strong alpha like his daddies. There was nothing that was going to end the time Simon had with him early, not until your hungry little boy needed to breastfeed.

You watched him, that protective daddy that he was, as you rested after giving birth. You were in labour for a long time and though your alpha’s were there for you every minute, it was still you that had to go through that.

The doctor recommended you take the time you need to recover, to give your body time to heal. The alpha’s in your pack stepped up the moment your baby boy first cried.

The first time he used his lungs to cry in the hospital room, pride flourished in the hospital. Gaz was the first one to hold your baby, the first alpha to calm the son that had just come into the world. Kyle’s voice soothed your baby, stilling the cries that had filled the room.

“You need to eat.” The interruption to your view of Simon comes when John sits beside you on the couch, carrying a plate of food for you—a combination of protein, fruits, vegetables and legumes. “I want you to finish it all.”

You sit up and lean against John, your head resting on his shoulder. He turns his head to kiss your forehead, giving you an affectionate exchange for the plate of food in his hand. He watches, he waits, as you start eating the food piece by piece, making sure you are cared for.

When Johnny and Gaz come into the living room, Kyle’s carrying a bottle of your breast milk for the baby. Johnny carry’s a diaper for your son and a spare set of clothes to change into, almost as if he predicts that he’s going to have a blowout.

“Give ‘im here, Si.” Johnny approaches the couch Simon’s sitting on, where your baby is tucked against his chest, nestling in. “It’s my turn.”

“The baby’s hungry,” Simon doesn’t deny Johnny, he wouldn’t do that, but he does take as much time as he can before he gives your son up.

Once Johnny takes your baby, he sits on the other side of you your baby snuggling into one of his daddies chests. It only takes a few minutes for your baby to wake up, his soft little cries and scrunched nose evident of his hunger.

“My boy,” Johnny coos, calming your baby before his hunger makes him too cranky, “got mum’s milk right here.”

Johnny taps the nipple of the bottle against your baby’s lips, waiting until he follows the movement. Once he takes the nipple into his mouth, he begins suckling and quickly becomes content with eating. Johnny’s fingers brush over his forehead, his scent soothing your son who looks up at his daddy watching him.

“Best decision we ever made,” Johnny whispers to your son, speaking to him as he east and fills his belly with breast milk you pumped and stored, “applying to meet your mama. She’s beautiful, your mama, and you are gonna grow up like your daddy-”

“The biggest and strongest,” Simon says with a lilt to his voice, “alpha. The best of the best.”

There was a general consensus among them all, the alpha’s that would’ve sent your ex a thank you card for walking out. Cause if he hadn’t then they wouldn’t have had the chance with you.

And that would’ve been one of the greatest upsets of their life.

[consciouscarrot]

cw; dark themes, written and edited half asleep

thinking about a nightfall by penelope douglas type of situation with blackchurch, but instead of it being emmy getting dumped in with will and co, it’s reader being dumped in with tf141. (brief summary of context here)

the boys are stuck there, have been for years without any outside contact, especially not from women. they’re immediately enraptured with you, obsessed with your every expression and movement.

you met simon first; waking up in a panic then stumbling out into the hallway, desperately trying to figure out where the hell you were, freezing at the sight of a dark figure, barely concealed by the shadows. he’s tall, and visibly very strong, his face completely hidden, but you can feel his eyes on you, the heavy weight of his gaze locked onto you, watching you like a predator would its prey. you stammer out a few words, anything to get him to drop his eyes or tell you what was going on. he stayed silent, and you could’ve sworn you saw his shoulders shaking lightly, was he laughing at you? completely losing your nerve, you spun on your heal, running down the hall as you heard the man’s heavy footsteps behind you, heartbeat pounding in your ears.

price was next, you turned a corner and bumped right into his chest, strong arms catching you as you fell back with a squeal. he held you steady, raising an eyebrow as the corner of his mouth twitched up, holding back a smile. he’d waited so goddamn long for this, he almost couldn’t believe you were real. you looked so scared, wide eyes staring up at him as salty tears spilled down your cheeks, a quiet whimper escaping your lips as you feel simon press up against your back, sandwiching you between them.

price shushes you, asking you what your name was kindly, smile finally slipping past his grasp at the deep flush of your cheeks, before guiding you to the living room and sitting down next to you to ask you some questions. you were too scared to run again, knowing that there’s no way you could get past the two of them, yet alone run faster, they’d catch up in mere seconds. simon always loomed near, staying with his back leant against a wall in the living room as he watched the two of you talk. you couldn’t bare to look at him, far too terrified to meet his eyes in the much lighter room. the mask didn’t help. you weren’t quite sure what it was of, weren’t quite sure you could cope with knowing yet either.

johnny and kyle were last, loud barks of laughter echoing down the hall, interrupting your shy and brief answer to another of price’s questions. they trailed into the room, their conversation coming to an abrupt end at the sight of you, johnny’s eyes nearly bulging out his head as kyle’s jaw dropped.

price ordered them to sit, observing your reactions as you watched warily, very aware of the fact that you seemed to be in a house full of men in the middle of nowhere, no where to escape to and no one to protect you from them. kyle gave you a small smile, obviously trying to calm you whilst johnny looked like he might explode with excitement beside him, beaming at you before going into a erratic ramble of questions, giving you no time to answer before asking another one. you shook silently on the sofa, wracking your brain for some kind of a solution, hopelessly begging your mind to wake up from whatever horrific nightmare this was.

fearful tears streamed down your face, trying to slowly distance yourself from the men, shifting down the sofa and towards the door. you nearly jumped out of your skin when simon pushed off the wall to move closer, walking up to you before kneeling before you. your heart leapt in your chest as you finally met his gaze, the realisation that his mask was a human skull, making you whimper again. his head tilted as he just looked at you for a minute, your brows furrowed and chin quivering at the terrifying man knelt in front of you.

eventually, he smacked his lips together, exchanging a quick glance at price before returning his focus back to you, “you’re ours now, lovie, and we’ve been waiting a very long time for you.”

[miwsolovely]

pirate au, reader runs away from family, ends up in the 141’s ship, SLOWBURN ENEMIES TO LOVERS

take my phone away from me

[impatientpandersrevised]

I headcanon Ghost sounding like Corpse Husband.

[ccwpidsblog]

hi bb we're literally on the phone rn but im thinking about reader and how disappointed she'd be when her and the guys get to the base in London 😔

where are the trees? and the caves? where are the wandering tourists she can feast on? she's been happily eating exotic fruits on her island in brazil for decades and now shes forced to help these big nasty mortal brutes on their suicide missions. omg she's so so upset with her situation and hates that shes a woman of her word.

and to make it worse?? price won't even let her eat the new recruits or the men they hold hostage :((( not even a nibble. he's such a mean old man :(( like hows a girl supposed to get some nutrients around here? it's okay she might just eat johnny one day :)

i also made a moodboard?? for xoana cus she's one of my favorite ocs you've made. love you byeee

omg guys i have the best partner everrrr 🥹🥹

read wild woman for context

she is highly disappointed with the living conditions of the base. its smelly, loud, and unfortunately littered with men who are very interested in 141s newest member. thankfully the reader has very weird and off putting energy in like a sexy way ofc that causes them not to approach and those that do are quickly sent away with their tail between their legs when her eyes slit and she snarls at them like a caged animal. which price or kyle quickly show their disappointment in her behavior leaving her huffy. johnny and simon will it wholeheartedly encourage it though.

i can just imagine ghost taking her by the back of the neck like a scolded kitten when he catches her luring in a new recruit. just as shes about to take a bite he swooping in "we told you no eating." carrying her away while she snarls and curses.

on the topic of food she's not impressed by it but she does get free rain missions, killing as many as she can and making their jobs easier and she does get hostages sometimes. only the ones that choose to be extra difficult.

and poor johnny he knows no peace with her around but he doesn't wanna be saved.

[cas-backwards-tie]

The Omega Pack Plan Masterlist

Poly!TaskForce 141 x Omega!Reader

Summary: The military's new initiative has finally implemented across the board. With no way around the impending reveal of your identity, you have to confess to your teammates first. Whether you're kicked out of the Taskforce, demoted, or even potentially relieved of your position in the military is only a matter of time.

Warnings: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Medication, Existentialism, Dismissive Attitudes, Misogyny, Anger, Rage,

Mentions of:

Chapters: News Crashing | Reap What You Sow | The Contract |

[gazsdiary]

JOHNNY'S SECRET

Pairing: Johnny Soap Mactavish x Reader (Later Poly!tf141 x reader)

ABO Universe

Prologue of By Any name Series but can be read as oneshot.

Next chapter here:

Summary: Johnny has a secret and Gaz is determined to find out what is he is hiding that makes him smile like a fool. Or rather: who.

Warnings: none

Authors note: Let me know if you want this to become a series!

Disclaimer: (I do NOT allow anyone stealing, translating or imitating this work)

xoxo

Something was going on with Johnny. He had been disappearing at random hours for the last couple of days, nobody knew where he went. At first, none of them cared, maybe he was just getting some air or going to the bathroom. Who knows. He was always a bit weird if they were honest. However, Gaz had started noticing some slight changes in his new behaviour, or his new routine. For example, how he always disappeared at the same time, sometimes even leaving in the middle of lunch without giving any explanations. And always came back smiling. A stupid smile as Simon had named it, but a smile nonetheless. 

When Gaz had asked them about this, Simon shrugged his shoulders and Price only frowned his lips, saying that he’ll keep an eye on him. So he had made it his mission to find where his same-rank friend was when he disappeared. 

They had always been glued to the hip. Well, since he came around. It had been weird at the beginning. The connection they had, almost instantly, was electrifying. He was the one that introduced him to the rest of the pack, he would be forever thankful for that. However. 

There was no space for secrets in their relationship, and Johnny was hiding a big one. And it was Gaz’s responsibility to find out what it was, mostly for the pack stability he said. Mostly. Because, would he sound needy if he said he felt left out by his partner in crime?

That’s why he was there right now. Waiting for Johnny to come out of the medical hallway, leaning against the wall, waiting patiently looking at the door. Medical office 1. 263. First floor. Soap was there. He knew it. He had followed him all the way from the Mess, from a cautious distance. 

Is this where he had been disappearing all this time? Was he sick? Was it something so serious to hide it from the Pack? Worried fill him for a second before he heard the door open, Soap exiting with that fucking dumb smile. It fell rapidly from his face when he saw his packmate leaning against the wall, a frown adorning his forehead. 

“What’re ye doing here?” He asked in a huss, closing the door and walking fastly towards him. There was not an ounce of that smile anymore.

“What am I doing  here? Now you’re taking the piss” 

Soap growled grabbing him by the arm and dragging him around the corner, hiding away from the clinic, Gaz’s back was towards that direction.

“Listen, ye can’t be here. Ye donae get it. Just, trust me”

“You’ve been disappearing, no one knows where you are going and you tell me to go away? Me ? What the fuck is happening Johnny? Are you sick or som’?You can trust me, you know-”

He almost fell forward, a weight crashing into him, hitting him on his back. 

“Ow! I’m so sorry about that, sir!” You apologised, never stopping your pace as you snuck around them “Oh, bye Johnny! See you tomorrow!” You didn’t stop walking down the hallway, slightly tripping over when you tried to catch your speed after that bump.

Gaz’s gaze followed your retreating form. You had bump into him and looked him in the eye as you apologised, you even smiled at him. He felt a warm feeling spreading inside his chest, his fingertips tingling. He had to stop the happy grumbles growing in his chest

“Who was that?”

“That’s gonna be our wife.”

[simp-ly-writes]

╰┈➤ Status: "completed"

Relationship: Platonic!141 x Reader

Summary: Spy AU! Task Force 141 gets temporarily recruited by MI6- the British Secret Intelligence Services for a mission since Laswell owed more than a few favours over the years from you and your team.

Chapters: (pt.1) (pt.2) (pt.3) (pt.4) (pt.5) (pt.6) (pt.7) (pt.8) word count: 27,000 words

╰┈➤ *✧･ﾟ:* Thank you for checking in, more to come soon! *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ

[cmncisspnandmore]

All Hands On Deck- Part 4

Pairings: Poly!141 X Pregnant!Wife!Reader

Warnings: Smut

Word Count: 2852 (I suck)

Previous: Part 3

A/N: I wish i could say im back but im not sure if i really am. Life had been really fucking shitty and honestly writing has been the last thing i wanted to do, so heres what i had written before life kicked me when i was already down. Its short and i apologize. When i do get back on my feet i promise i will make them longer.

“What do you think of this one?” Kyle slides his laptop towards you, showing you another house listing. 

This one was 5 bedrooms, with an unfinished basement, 2 large living rooms. You scroll the listing and shake your head. The kitchen was so outdated you were afraid the pipes were insulated in asbestos.

“It needs a lot of renovation, and I'm worried about asbestos. That kitchen looks like it hasn't been touched since the 30’s,” you slide the laptop back to him.

“What about this one Mo Chridhe?” Johnny slides a real estate magazine towards you. The page flipped to a tudor style build, and you shake your head, scrunching up your nose.

“No,” You rest your head on your hand, you glance at John and Simon who are talking quietly amongst themselves. 

“What about you two?” You ask, and they both look at you. Simon and John share a look, communicating without words. You hated when they did that, silently talking with their eyes. All your husbands did it, it was something they developed after working together for years. Johnny and Kyle look over at them and share a look too.

“Oh no you four don't, tell me what you're thinking,” you frown, and they laugh. 

“We’ve been looking for a month, Lovie, maybe we won't find anything that fits all of us.” Simon explains coming over and standing behind you. He wraps his large arms around you, putting his large scarred hand on your stomach.

“So what are you suggesting?” You look up at him, your head tipped back against his chest. He looks down at you, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“How about we build?” He suggests.

“Like from the ground up?” You ask brows furrowed. 

“No from the top down,” Johnny retorts, “Ouch!” He whines rubbing the back of his head as Kyle glares at him.

“Boys,” John warns.

“We found a few large plots of land we can build on, that already have water and electricity hook ups for them,” Simon explains, reaching over you and grabbing the laptop on the counter. He pulls it closer to him, his fingers moving over the keys as he pulls up the listing for the land. Pulls up the picture of a plot of land, 5 acres in the countryside. 

“Hmm..” you hum as you look at it, trying to imagine what kind of house you would build there. 

“We can have whatever you want. If you want 20 bathrooms you can have it,"John crosses his arms across his chest. His shirt flexing over his forearms, your eyes drifting to the light green fabric. Your eyes trail up his arms to his chest, his neck and finally to his face. His beard was a little longer, his bright blue eyes looking at you. As you stare he raises an eyebrow at you. The rumbling at your back sending goosebumps over your skin. 

“Baby?” Kyle says his warm hand landing on your arm. You jerk your head to the right where he stands, a knowing smirk on his face. 

“Did you hear Simon?” He asks, his full lips twitching at the edges as he fights back a smile. A blush flushes your cheeks, making them grow warm.

“No…” you mumble, your face tipping down to stare at the counter. 

“You get lost in that pretty head of yours?” Johnny smiles, “something catch your eye Mo Chridhe?” 

“Think she was staring at our captain,” Simons voice is laced with a smile.

“I-I” you stumble over the words, your eyes darting around the room.

“Have we been neglecting you Darling?” John comes closer standing on the left of Simon. 

“No…”

“You sure?” He whispers as he leans in his lips brushing yours. There's a sharp intake of breath behind you, Simon's fingers flexing over your small baby bump. 

“I think we haven't been paying her enough attention…” Kyle murmurs, his lips finding your neck and shoulder. Trailing over the smooth skin there, his tongue darting out to taste you. A shudder runs through you as John's hand comes to hold the side of your face, his rough fingers brushing along your jaw. 

“Steaming Jesus,” Johnny groans.

“Thank fuck it’s almost midnight,” Kyle adds.

“Think we should spread her out over the counter,” Simon mumbles, a series of affirmative noises follow. As John pulls back from your lips he smiles, your chest heaving with each ragged breath.

“Is that what you want Darling?”John breathes his minty breath fanning across your flushed face. “Want us to lay you out on the kitchen counter and have our way with you?” 

Your voice fails you and all you can do is nod. Desire coursing through your veins lighting your nerve endings on fire. Each movement from them sends new ripples of electricity over your body. 

Johnny smirks, his smile smug as he watches you squirm. He loved how turned on you got when you were pregnant. Your hormones racing, no matter how exhausted you were you couldn’t ever turn them down. It had been awhile since they all had taken you together, finding it hard to find a moment when they were all free, the children all taken care of so they could all dote on you without interruptions. The last time had been the second night after they got back and found out about the new babe. The tiny life growing inside you.

John glances at Simon, the two having a conversation with their eyes again, and suddenly you’re lifted off the stool. Placed on the white counter to like you’re the most precious thing in the world, you shudder as the counter comes in contact with your bare thighs. John moves the things behind you, and places a sweatshirt on the counter, his hands going to your shoulders to lean you back against it as Simon nudges your legs apart with his hips.

You stare up at the ceiling, the recessed lighting you hated staring back at you. You gasp as two sets of lips touch your thighs. Both warm but so distinct.

Simon and Kyle.

Kyle’s stubble is softer against your skin than Simon’s. His lips fuller. Simon’s lips are followed by tiny bites that sting slightly. Leaving marks in their wake as he trails his lips to the hem of your shorts.

“Oh,” you gasp, as a warm hand slips under the hem of your shorts and teases the edge of your panties.

“Wanna play a game?” Johnny asks, leaning his arms on the counter as he peers down at you.

“What kind of game?” You mumble eyes half lidded as he and John trail their fingers along your skin. 

“We blindfold you and see if you know who’s touching you,” Johnny smiles down at you.

“Okay. What happens if I win?” You ask, raising an eyebrow in defiance.

“You can get those chickens you’ve been asking for when we move,” John replies, and you smile.

You had been bugging them about getting chickens. With the amount of eggs your family went though it would be more practical to have them then buy 6 dozen eggs every week. At least if you had some chickens you could get fresh eggs every day.

“Deal.”

A few moments later Simon comes back with a tie from the upstairs closet and gently wraps the soft fabric around your eyes. He ties it securely behind your head making sure not to snag any of your hair in the knot.

“Ready?” Johnny's thick accent asks from your left. 

“Yes…” You mumble, your hands clenched at your sides in excitement. 

Suddenly there's a hand on your thigh that trails down to your knee, the skin is smooth and soft, but the cool metal wedding band gives away who it is. Kyle's band was significantly thinner than the others, he had used his grandfather's wedding band but due to years of resizing it had grown thin and worn. 

“Kyle…” you breathe, and you're rewarded by his lips touching yours briefly. 

“You’re right baby.”

The next set of hands are much more aggressive with their touch, they land on your sides, roughly trailing up, pushing your shirt up with them. Exposing your full breasts to the cool air. Your nipples pebble from the sudden temperature change, and suddenly a warm set of lips catches one of your nipples. 

“Johnny!” You gasp, back arching off the counter.

“Fucking hell Mactavish did you have to get us all worked up like that so fast?” Simon's deep voice grumbles, the sounds of clinking belts and fabric hitting the floor with soft thumps follow. 

“Sorry LT, cant resist these anymore,” Johnny chuckles, his tongue flicking out to lap at your nipple, earning a small moan from you. 

Your breath stutters in your chest as someone else starts to pay the same attention to your other breast as Johnny does. The lips are warm but the tell tale brush of a beard on your skin gives them away. 

“John,” you pant, your chest heaving with each breath. Between the blindfold, the anticipation and the attention they were showering your breasts with you weren't sure how long you were going to be able to pay attention and figure out who was who. Pleasure was already starting to fog your brain. A pair of large hands grabs your sleep shorts and panties and discards them. Before the same pair of hands push your knees up towards your chest and your heels land on the counter top. 

A thick finger glides along your entrance and you choke on a moan. 

“S-Simon,” you stutter out as he swirls his finger through your folds.

“Good girl,” he praises, as he regards you by pushing his finger into your aching cunt. You let out a lewd moan, as John and Johnny pull away from their assaults on your nipples to look down at what Simon was doing. 

“Fuck,” Kyle moans and you can hear his hand working his cock. 

“Want to keep playing? Maybe we should make you guess who’s cock is buried deep inside your tight little body,” John whispers in your ear, making you shiver. Goosebumps erupting on your skin. 

“Oh god, please,” you moan as Simon adds another finger, stretching you open. 

There's a moment of pause and you know they’re all looking at each other trying to figure out who gets to go first. After a brief moment Simon pulls his fingers from you and you whimper at the loss. 

The soft sound of a cap opening, and suddenly you can feel someone standing by your feet, two sets of hands help pull you to the end of the counter, your ass almost falling off but the person between your legs makes sure you don't fall. Your body trembles from anticipation and when you're sure you're going to combust if someone didn't touch you right that moment. With one hard thrust the person between your thighs slides into you. Your breath stutters in your chest as they grab your hips and slam into you. 

“Fuck!” you gasp, as they pound into you.

“Who’s between your legs Darling?” John asks, as you struggle to make sense of who's between your legs through the waves of pleasure that are rolling through you. You take a few breaths and really concentrate. The hands holding your thighs were calloused but not enough to be Simon or John.

“Tick Tock love, who is it?” Simon's voice is right by your ear. 

You groan as the person pulls almost all the way out before they ease back in, they were long but not nearly as thick as Johnny or Simon. 

“Kyle!” You gasp as Kyle slams his hips into you, his thrusts faltering as he falls over the edge, your own orgasm sweeping through you.

You suck in a sharp breath as he pulls out and Kyle’s soft lips fall onto yours before he places a soft kiss to your baby bump. 

“You’re right,” Kyle murmurs, as he trailed his hand up to your cheek where he brushes his thumb along your cheekbone.

“Ready for the next person?” He asks softly, and you nod. It takes a few seconds but eventually someone else settles into between your legs, they spread your legs wider and their hands grip your waist. They weren’t gentle, as they thrust into you with one harsh thrust, before setting a brutal pace that had you a moaning mess.

“Oh fuck! Oh god,” you moan loudly. They didn’t stop their brutal pace, their fingers digging into your skin, nails biting into the soft flesh.

“Simon!” You scream as your next orgasm quickly overtakes you, the mixture of the brutal pace and the lingering pleasure still coursing through your body from Kyle sending you tumbling over the edge far faster than normal.

“Fuck you’re so tight, so wet for me.” Simon grunts as he slams into you. It only takes him a few moments to find his own release, Simon leans over you and kisses you, his arms on either side of your head, His lips brush yours and you sigh softly. 

“You’re such a good girl,” Simon mumbles against your lips before he pulls away and slips out of you. Your entire body trembles as you lay on the counter, your skin slick with a thin veil of sweat as you wait for the next person. 

“Can you handle anymore” John's rough voice is in your ear. His breath tickles the side of your face as he talks.

“I-I don't know,” you mumble, your entire body felt like jello.

“Did we become too much for you Darling? I thought you could handle all of us?” John presses a kiss to your cheek. 

“I don't think she can, such a shame,” Kyle chimes in. his hands brushing across your thigh.

“You can handle it Lovie,” Simon coos, his large hand trailing down your chest as he tweaks one of your nipples. Your back arches off the counter and you moan loudly. 

Without warning there's someone gripping your thighs and pulling them apart, their rough hands digging into the soft flesh, and you wouldn't be surprised if you had bruises after. A moment later they bottom out inside of you. Your thighs shake as they move, their thrusts are softer than Simons but there's a controlled restraint in them. Almost as if they are afraid it really is too much for you. “Johnny, don't hold back,” you moan. 

“Ah fuck,” Johnny groans as he thrusts back into you harder. His hands digging into your thighs to hold you in place. “Fuck youre so tight for me, so wet.”

As Johnny continues his brutal pace someone undoes the tie around your eyes and you blink as your eyes adjust. Simon leans down and captures your lips in a kiss. One of his hands on your cheek as his tongue invades your mouth. Your head spins from the sensations, the feeling of Johnny's rough thrusting, Simon's attention to your lips. Johnny’s movements stutter and a moment later he stills completely. His hands let go of your thighs. His palms smack the counter on either side of your hips. 

Your moan is swallowed by Simon as Johnny pulls out of you. He dips his head and kisses the red fingerprints on your thighs for a moment. His breath tickles the sensitive flesh there, before he pulls away. 

“I guess I'm the only one left,” John smiles as he takes Johnny's place. You tear your mouth away from Simons. 

“I guess you are,” you breathe your eyes meeting his. His lip ticks up in a small smirk as he leans over you, one large hand wrapping around your throat for a moment before he squeezes lightly. His blue eyes remain locked on yours as he slowly slides into you. From the corner of your eye you can see Kyle and Johnny slip from the kitchen and a moment later the sound of the shower turning on echoes through the house. 

Simon watches as John fucks you on the counter, his eyes never straying from your reactions. The way your back arches off the counter, the way your breathing stutters when he hits that one spot inside of you. As John picks up his pace he lets go of your throat and moves his hands to your hips. He holds you in place as he slams into you with a steady yet brutal pace. As your orgasm rips through you a hand covers your mouth to silence your scream. Simon's dark brown eyes staring down at you. His pupils lost in the color of his irises. John pulls out of you and catches his breath and Simon slowly lifts his hand from your mouth and your heels slip off the edge of the counter. Your entire body went limp, your hair stuck to your forehead.

“You okay?” Simon asks softly.

“Better than okay…” you give him a lazy smile.

“Oh?” Simon tilts his head towards you, as John pulls on his boxers. 

“Yeah, I was just ravaged by my 4 husbands and I get chickens.” 

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Taglist: @sushiumex @asialovesyou09 @readinggeeklmao

[imaginedreamwrite]

New poly 141 idea that’s infected my mind

A historical au with the 141 being ranchers/cowboys who settle down in a small town. Reader is a brand new saloon girl, still a virgin who has to become a working girl to provide for herself after her family died from a disease

They are her first clients, one night after the other, and collectively agree to keep her as their own

[drenix004]

𝐏𝐋𝐔𝐂𝐊𝐋𝐄𝐘 - Part 1

141 masterlist Pluckley masterlist Teaser

Task forcé 141 x Oc!female (Au)

❝Small town, big hell❞

CWs -> fluf, angst, drugs, death, obsession, blood, torture, harassment, mental issues, eventual smut, Possessiveness, manipulation, kidnapping, themes related to cannibalism, drinking blood, Dark themes, among others.

->English is not my first language, there may be grammar or spelling errors.

W/c: 1,3k

The mist had turned into a drizzle as they entered the village. The streets were typical of any English town, just like the houses’ architecture. Modern designs were nowhere to be found; the predominant styles were Tudor and Cottage. If she happened to spot even a single house or building with a modern or industrial design, she would hit the accelerator and leave the place without a second thought. The style left a bitter taste in her mouth due to the memories it brought back.

She glanced at the rearview mirror again. The two children were pressed against the window, watching the place as they moved along. From their body language, she could tell they weren’t entirely uncomfortable, which was a good sign.

“Make sure your blankets are secure,” she said, turning a corner. The blankets she had wrapped them in were almost on the floor. “It’s cold, and we’re not used to this weather.”

“Nor to such an… open environment,” one of them replied, looking at her through the mirror. “Where are we going?”

“He marked a place on the map; I think it’s an inn.” She stopped before an intersection and looked at the map again.

“And is it safe to go there in the first place?” the other one asked. “Won’t people look at us strangely?” He touched his shaved head unconsciously, feeling uneasy. In fact, all three of them had shaved heads. “Can we trust him?”

“It’s the only option we have, considering we don’t have any papers. A hotel would be more complicated,” she answered the first question as she moved forward and turned right at the intersection. The inn had to be further ahead. “And as for him... we have no choice but to trust him. For better or worse, he got us out of there.”

The car fell silent for several minutes until they reached the inn’s parking lot. The White Horse—the white cursive letters contrasted with the Tudor design of the building. The two children shifted uncomfortably in the backseat. The second child’s question lingered in their minds.

“Will people look at us weird?” the second one repeated.

She turned off the car, folded the map, and left it on the glove compartment. Then she grabbed the bag from the passenger seat and began searching for something.

“Not necessarily. Plus, we have these.” She pulled out three wool hats. The two smaller ones had animal ears—a rabbit and a bear. The largest one, which would be hers, was plain. Turning in her seat, she showed them the hats. “We can hide the lack of hair, and since it’s cold, it won’t look suspicious.”

The children took the hats and put them on. She did the same, placing the bag on her lap again, searching for some identification—anything that could help them blend in. It would be suspicious if she had no documents for herself or the kids. She rummaged through the items absentmindedly, deciding to check more thoroughly later.

Finally, she found a woman’s wallet. Tossing the bag back onto the seat, she hurriedly searched it. Inside, there was cash, three bank cards from unfamiliar banks, and the item she was looking for: an ID card. Her photo was on the front, along with a name and surname.

“What about her?” the first child asked.

All three turned their attention to the baby carrier between the two kids. She slipped the ID into her jacket pocket.

“We’ll cover the top with a blanket to protect her from the rain.” She unfastened her seatbelt; the children did the same. Pulling a portable umbrella from the bag, she closed it. “Ready?”

“Yes.”

She stepped out, making sure to close the door properly before opening the umbrella. Inside, one child grabbed the bag from the front seat, while the other unfastened the baby carrier’s straps and covered the top with a blanket.

The oldest opened the door, letting the first child out. She handed him the umbrella and leaned halfway into the car to retrieve the baby. She lifted the carrier with one hand and took the umbrella again with the other, waiting for the second child to get out.

After confirming the door was securely closed, the children pressed closely against her, trying to stay dry and unwilling to stray far from her side.

“There’s a car,” one of them said as they walked toward the entrance. She glanced at what appeared to be a gray SUV with tinted windows, parked a few meters away.

“They’re probably waiting for someone or looking for the same thing we are. Don’t think too much about it,” she reassured them. Once at the entrance, she carefully set the baby carrier on the ground and closed the umbrella. “Here.” She handed the umbrella to the child who wasn’t carrying the bag.

Lifting the carrier again, she opened the door for the children to enter first.

A wave of warm air greeted them, making the younger ones sigh in relief. The place looked clean and spacious. The reception desk was made of beautiful brown wood, with a sofa set and a small central table in the middle of the room. Plants adorned a few corners, soft lighting filled the space, and a fireplace with several wooden ornaments added warmth.

“Let’s sit down first.” She guided the children to one of the larger sofas. Carefully placing the baby carrier beside her, she lifted the blanket slightly to check on the sleeping baby. Her breathing was normal, and her expression was peaceful. She lowered the blanket again—she didn’t feel comfortable letting others see her.

The reception area was empty, but she was sure that if she rang the small bell on the counter, someone would come. Which, of course, she did.

After a few minutes, an older woman appeared behind the counter.

“Welcome to The White Horse,” the woman greeted, typing something on the computer. “I’ll need any document with your name and registration number, please.”

“Of course.” She reached into her jacket pocket and handed over the ID.

The woman paused for a moment, staring at the identification. Her black eyes lingered on her for a few seconds before glancing at the children and then back at her.

“Calliope…” The woman looked at her closely when she said the name before offering a warm smile and resuming her typing. Calliope tensed slightly. The woman’s gaze suggested she knew things about her.

“I have a reservation under your name. It’s a large room with a king-size bed.”

“For how long, if I may ask? I made the reservation while half-asleep and don’t quite remember.” She lied. He must have made the reservation in a hurry without mentioning it.

“The system says two months.”

From a hidden drawer, the woman retrieved a key with the room number.

“The room is on the second floor. I’ll need you to sign this form.” She handed her the key and a sheet of paper.

Calliope took the pen the woman offered and began filling in the blanks. Every now and then, she glanced at the children, who sat on either side of the baby carrier.

A door opened somewhere behind her, likely another guest arriving. She paid it no mind.

“Mary, I’ve stocked the room with firewood,” a dark-skinned man said, approaching the corner of the counter; Calliope stood in the center.

“Thank you for coming despite the weather, Gaz,” the woman replied, handing him a coat.

Calliope remained silent, finishing the form and taking the key.

“Say hi to Price for me.”

“No problem, Mary.”

The children stood up as she approached them. She felt the man’s gaze following her as she turned toward the stairs, thankful the woman kept him distracted with a conversation about someone named Price and his wood.

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