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thewriterg · 1 month ago

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𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐧’ 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐨𝐬 chp.7

pairing(s); simon 'ghost' riley x fem!reader, johnny 'soap' mactavish x fem!reader, kyle 'gaz' garrick x fem!reader, john 'bravo six' price x fem!reader, werewolf!soap, harp crow hybrid!gaz, dragon hybrid!price, wraith!hybrid (?) ghost, phoenix!hybrid (?) reader

summary; I’m sorry john.

word count; 4.9k+ | chasin’ chaos masterlist

warning(s); monster au, dark twisted themes, normal cod violence, firearms, knives, combat, pinning (?), poly themes, death, r call sign is flatline, blood consumption, eventual smut, kissin, and language

“Roba! We got a ping on captain Price near the perimeter” Vernon shoots through the door; a wary tone to match his sickly look. He watches as the chupacabra brushes his concern away, not even moving to face his form, a sly grin stretching over his mouth.

“Dragons and their Hoards. You scratch up their things and they'll walk straight into a trap.” The leader huffs a laugh while the soldier freezes at his backside. The brunette's voice raises, pitch going a few times higher than normal. The hairs on the back of his neck start to stand and all of a sudden the room is getting suspiciously warm.

“You lured him here? Roba, we’ll be annihilated, we're sitting ducks!” The man has seen his superior Price work in the field. The last thing he wanted to put on his todo list was to be on the receiving end of the Captains wrath. Brown eyes dart downwards to clawed hands; A vial of thick crimson liquid has found a temporary home in the hybrid's animalistic hold, –suddenly his voice dies out.

“...Is that blood?”

“My vampire friend, he's been experimenting. Us hybrids are all mongrels. Less concentrated offshoots of our originals. But with the right boost to the system… apparently, even a mutt can cripple a dragon.” Roba finally throws a glance at the tense man, shutting the brief case that held what must've been more viles; Vern can't really begin to care. The polo jacket collar around the girth of his neck is suddenly tight around as he swallows the lump in his throat. The leader's grin is short of sinister as he pops off the lid with a flick of his thumb.

“Get the boys packing and stay away from the courtyard. I'm plucking this thorn out of my side for good.”

💌💌💌💌

“I want it on record that I think this is a stupid Idea. You need to wait for reinforcements.” Laswell’s voice rings through the coms in Price's pointed ear. Pear colored wings stroke broadly behind him keeping him upright as he hovers over the court, his eyes scanning the perimeter a hundredth time over.

“My assigned ‘reinforcements’ went in with my lieutenants and never came back out.” He replies impertinently, eyes darting to one side even though no able body was there to receive the pointed gaze.

“Damnit John- I always hoped you'd age out of this one-man army shit.” The woman's voice rings out with a sigh dying heavy on her lips. The captain responds without missing a beat.

“They're torturing them, Laswell.” The brunette hisses like it burns him.

“...And if they're already dead?”

“Then they'll all burn.” The line dies as Price finally swoops towards the ground, landing on one knee with a thump before he stands to his full, hulking, height. He was beyond trained for scenarios like this. He’d be a liar if he said it was just because two of his best were on the line that made him take flight. It was more than that- you both were more than that. Your sudden bashfulness around him hidden under your scheduled nature; Simon's yearning need for his praise and reassurance wrapped beneath his tough skin. They’d burn hotter than hell if he didnt get to see it again.

“Roba! Let's negotiate.” His voice booms across the yard and he doesnt get to take two steps before an instinct –like a flatline with a sudden heartbeat– swipes at him harshly. His wings carry his weight as he propels up into the air, by a graze of hair missing the damaging embrace of his opposition.

“Captain Price… here for your team? You should've come with a hearse, amigo.” When the lower hybrid looks up to higher one out of two the captain can't help but cringe. Roba is twice his normal size; his shirt looks like nothing but rags on his body, the fabric torn to shreds against his skin, his pupils are blown taking up all of its iris, and one eye is squinted making the other look bigger.

“Manuel… What did you do to yourself? Where are your men?” The captain's arms still at his sides, his eyebrows furrow as he looks at the leader's drunken form.

“Hah! Im freeing us both from the distraction. No more fighting with human flesh bags! Monster against monster- how it should be!” The dragon must tire from the chupacabra's speech because he swoops down, a hand on the fat of his thick neck; pinning him to the ground momentarily snarling out.

“Enough! Where the hell are my lieutenants?!” Price's hair is ruffled as he bares his fangs, patience short of thin.

“You're not listening, captain. I killed them you fool! With the help of one of your own soldiers! Your boy got a bullet between his teeth and the girl… ah she was feisty- that one. My guys ran their test… gave her a little treatment from a friend of mine; vampire down in the states and her system couldn't stand it. You should've taken a bite of them while you still could. But don't worry. Ask nicely and I'll let you lick their blood off the floor”

Price can feel himself tense as Roba goes on. His eyes are wide and there's a permanent snarl at his lips. Hearing about how you ended, smoke extinguishes out from the corner of his lips and flames spark from between his teeth as a growl brews deep in his throat.

A crash rings over the courtyard and Vern swore he could feel the ground shake beneath his feet as soldiers around him call out worriedly.

“The dragon, he's here.” One states and the brunette cant be bothered to remember who.

“Keep moving! We’ll need these supplies wherever we remake camp.” His voice booms over to the remaining soldiers who aren't already loaded up in a box truck waiting for departure. One is quick to retaliate.

“Watch it puta. We follow Roba, not you. You might be his newest rat but he eats those for breakfast.” The man is eerily mad about something the soldier can't seem to understand and he huffs, lips turned downwards as the bulkier figure walks away from him with colorful curses beneath his breath. The brunette leans against the wall, his eyes falling over your slumped figure strapped to a makeshift operation chair. The scientists were sure to take every precaution including taking their test outside for reasons he does not know. You're bruised on every surface he can see but it's worse around the poorly done IV in your arm.

There's a sudden crash through the wall bricks crumbling inches away from the mans head. Black smoke-like shadows penetrate the chest of the soldier who cursed him before, they come back up his throat and out of his mouth as a finale. The black aura busts through the truck wall tearing its side open like it was anything but a sheet of paper. Low and behold stands the blonde lieutenant in all his glory claws torn into another private’s neck.

“You-uuU” Smoke crawls out from his eyes and mouth streaking up and down the surface of his face like veins. The lights are flashing for the soldier to run; the briefcase with vials of blood clenched tightly in his hold, yet as soon as he turns the lieutenant stands before him with a hand wrapped around his neck.

“Roba. Where is he?!” Ghost roars fangs bared claws digging into Vernons Skin, making him drop the case from his hold as he chokes out a location. His head slightly cocks itself at the noise, eyes fallen on the shattered shards of glass and pool of crimson.

“Blood… that's right… wannabe bloodsucker.” The wraith forces the man to the ground, a palm stretched across the top of his overgrown buzzed head. His face hovers over the mess, palms trying to push himself up and away to no avail.

“Get your fill… fucking pathetic.” Pleas die out as a sickening crunch rings in Simon's ears; having smashed the soldier's face into the glass, the blood splattering up at the pressure. The grin on his face falls as his eyes avert to your slumped form. The blonde immediately stands from his kneeling position trailing over to you with the drag of his feet; Simon cups your cheek, clawed fingers sweeping away the curls that stick to the tacky dried blood on your face that leaks from your temple. When he notes the needle in your arm he's quick to rip it out before crumbling to his knees, his head resting in your lap. He hears the roars of Roba in the distance and it quickly makes his skin start to burn with an aching rage all over again.

“He’sss DEAD- Lovie I swear it! I'll be back for you.” The lieutenant hisses long pointed tongue darting out uncontrollably as the ground vibrates beneath him. His gaze softens as he turns and looks at your figure; lacking a heartbeat and caving into yourself. No sassy remark, no small smile, no life in your gorgeous eyes. That fucker would die.

And he will die today.

Roba escapes the heat by the skin of his teeth, the flame licking his ankle as he moves to scatter away. Price's mouth is agape, the fire that escapes from his throat is broad and burly. The leader barely dodges the captain's landing in response grabbing hold of his thick moss colored tail using it to slam him beneath his growing figure. The chupacabra curses as a flame burns bright in his face momentarily kissing the surface; barely able to recover before the brunettes' claws break the skin on his cheek with a broad slash. Quickly flipping the hybrid –despite him being twice his size– the dragon rests on his hardened back, arms wrapping around the base of his neck in a tight headlock as he squirmed beneath him.

“I'm going to gut you like a pig.” John's claws dig into the fat of Robas jugular while he growls in protest. The captain's senses scream at him again but he's too slow to react before he’s knocked into a wall by a slither of pitch black smoke.

Shadows overcome Robas figure, yanking him back against the floor until he feels himself being lifted in the air. His eyes widen at the sight –or what he can recognize– of the supposedly dead man walking. With a swipe of his hand Ghost’s claws graze the skin across the hybrid's jaw.

“You're right… I do prefer it this way” The wraith grins clutching his fingers into a fist staring down at the man who took his life. Took your life.

Took. your. Life.

“What the hell was that?” Price groans brows furrowed as he begins to pick himself up suddenly still in his place. His lieutenant stands over the man who supposedly put him six feet underground, black shadows of smoke allowing him to hover in the air wrapping around his body like a warm embrace. They seep out of his eyes and mouth, crawl up his back to his scalp; they make a home of him.

“...Simon?”

“What's wrong- feeling trapped?” He chuckles out as Roba struggles beneath him cursing fluently.

“Demon… you're a demon! You son of a whor-” The chupacabra chokes on his words growls dying while bearing his teeth as a black fist wraps around his tongue.

“Simon! …What did he do to you?” Price calls and the blonde cocks his head to stare at the dragon voidly. The brunette's face is flooded with concern and maybe beneath his frown is a swipe of pity. He suddenly hunches over into himself groaning, the blonde clutches his head irritably; shadows shoot out in retaliation one side pinning the mutt to the ground the other knocking the captain back a few feet. John grunts at the landing, going to call out to him again.

“NO! He needs to die! Stay out of my way!” The wraith pins the dragon to the floor pitch black covered hand clenching around his shoulder; the captain swallows at the grip.

“Simon, stop, your hand!” He shoots back like the touch scorns him, going back to grabbing at his blonde locs with a pained protest.

Tommys a monster-

Touch her and they won't find the piec-

Rip his tongue ou-

Vernon killed

Captain

Dead-

Ill be back for yo-

Rip his tongue out

Rip.His.Tongue.Out.

RIP HIS TONGUE OUT

“Lieutenant!” The captain takes hold of his hoard, hands cupping either side of his jaw while he stares into bitch black eyes that suddenly fades. The shadows clear behind him –not to nothing but they simmer down and Price could cry at the look recognition in his eyes.

“... John.” The older man –of the two– sighs a small grin making its way to his face that's short lived as the roar of Roba rings from behind them before his figure is dragged away. Ghost is on guard subconsciously keeping his captain behind him despite the fact Price is right on his heels as they follow the claw marks left by the chupacabra.

“You took… everything from me” Simon hears you before he sees you and when he does his heart beats potently in his chest. Doll-like cracks litter your skin; they kiss up your arms and neck, going as far to stretch across your face. Orange hues glow beneath, shining through the crevices. Your hand is outstretched in front of you and there are sparks of orange and yellow that hold the blood drunk leader to the wall before they quickly fling him across the courtyard with the flick of your wrist.

“I'm gonna KILL you! How dare you?! How dare you take a man like Simon- my Simon! I'll be the last thing you'll see! I'LL KILL YOU DO YOU HEAR ME?!” Your screech rings across the distance; The iris of your eyes burning the same color as the sparks that wrap around your arms, gaze –feral– dead set on mutt in front of you. The hybrid snarls barely getting a head start to run at you before he’s struck by arrows made up of your energy; It's pure chaos. You direct everything you possibly could throw to his form without missing a beat inching closer with the strut of your feet.

The men- Your men can't miss the dark aura that surrounds you, the dark purple veins that swarm underneath your eyes, the fangs that replace your canines, all of it. Price calls out for you and he can see your shoulder stiffen and It could be comical how both his lieutenants shared the same sinister looks when they hear his voice but, he can see how you recognized him right away; your eyes flicker between burnt orange and their original color that sucked him in all those months ago.

Roba takes the open moment to topple over and before you could retaliate, shadows of dark smoke wrap around him, tearing through the skin and bone of his bicep –the limb being cut clean off from its source– throwing his figure a few meters away. When you gather yourself to stand in a blink, Price is in front of you, his eyes gaze deep into yours and you hiss as his hand wraps around your wrists.

“They killed him! They killed Simon- he needs to die! That fucker is going to die…Get out of my way!” You bare your fangs at the dragon before your world seems to slow.

“Lovie.” Your body turns instantly at the sound and there he stands in all his glory before you, alive and well. The lieutenant.

“Simon…” The veins beneath your eye retreat as you take in a breath you didn't know you were holding. You blink once and then again, you take a step forward and just like everything in your field of work it's short lived. John is snatched away from his position and slammed into the floor.

“Roba-!!” The chupacabra tears into the span of his wing, taking the limb from the brunettes back into his sharp teeth. Roba roars about blood and you cant see the look of connection in Simons eyes –you cant see the scene of how his hand coats in the vial kept blood while he smashed his former soldiers face into the glass, how he took that same crimson cover hand and slashed it across the chupacabras face, wrapped his hand around his tongue.– all you see is your captain on his knees, pupils shrunken, brows shot up to his hairline, and mouth agape.

You drop to your knees wrapping an arm around your captain's waist lying your head on his shoulder; you can feel Simon behind you before he follows in suit, one forearm tucked beneath the armpit of his superior the other bringing you impossibly closer to them. Without missing a beat Simon makes a shield like cocoon at your backs and you take hold of the foreign energy you feel without even thinking about it. The darkly pitched shadows are littered with sparks of orange and it shoots into the roof of the chupacabra's mouth through his head and another darts through his neck.

“I'm sorry John.”

💌💌💌💌

“Laswell…” Price can feel the woman's presence without looking at her; stretched on his stomach, he can feel the absence against his back.

“John-! John, you fucking overgrown lizard-” The woman drops the clipboard she was previously looking over, the brunette shifts his head to finally meet her gaze.

“Kate.” His tone stops her rambling and she isn't given a chance to come up with something as he asks, cold cut turkey.

“It's gone, isn't it.” He knows it is. He feels it is. He doesn't ask it like a question, he says it like a statement. But it doesn't keep him from confirming.

“...I'm sorry, John. They did all they could.” He doesn't hear anything else, burying his face into the pillow with a soft huff.

💌💌💌💌

“I should've chosen my words better. When I said I wished you'd stop your one man army shticks, I didn't mean like this.” The blonde continues when the dragon hums for her to do so; finally sat upright in the shitty medbay bed. He rolls his shoulder –the side one wing still sits behind–, shifting to the edge of the cot.

“Y’know what they say about hindsight- omph!” The hybrid falls to the floor with a thud when he goes to stand, knees weak. The operator rushes to the hulking man's side, slinging his arm around her neck; lowering him back to the edge of the mattress.

“Goddamnit John, Stop! You've just had a limb torn off and you've been asleep for three days-”

“Three days? Where's Simon and Y/n?”

“Kate?!” The captain booms, voice raising when she doesn't answer quick enough for his liking.

“You need to wait. You have to trust me on this- they're safe. I won't let anything or anyone touch them. But you'll be no use to them right now. ” She holds her hand out, brows furrowed as she goes on, never taking eyes off him.

“I lose one wing and now I'm useless?!”

“No. That's not-”

“Im still a fucking dragon Laswell, dont you ever forget it! Now move-” The dragon snarls, the shakiness of his knees suddenly no longer present as he stands to his full height. He glares pointedly at the shorter woman until she finally matches his tone.

“Sit DOWN!” His pupils shrink.

“He's on a brink. You know what he is now, you know how careful we need to be. And she's- John it's bad… you lost a wing- but she lost a set. Can't get her calm enough to get treated or even run tests on her new… abilities. What will they do if the first time they see you, you can barely walk on your own? Simon Riley and Y/n Y/l/n were my recommendations before they were yours. Wait, John. Trust me.” The brunette lets his head fall into his hands cursing beneath his breath.

💌💌💌💌

“How are they?” Steady on his own two feet the hybrid walks alongside Laswell down the scheduled corridor where you both seemed to be kept.

“He's sitting pretty as always. Your girly hasn't moved in days. He's got one way glass, she's got something bigger” The blonde tosses her gaze over her shoulder when he stops a low growl brewing in his throat.

“They put them in a cell?!”

“He asked for it himself actually. The brass were all too happy to provide. She didn't really have much of a choice; meds slipped up and she saw you… didn't like how you were looking and she damn sure let them know it.” She continues.

“They're on edge. As a human, Simon was Reliable. Got things Done. Even Y/n as a phoenix knew her way around and didn't need much to complete a mission. Now, we might as well be sitting on timebombs. You'll be their first and last attempt to bring them to heel.” Laswell crosses her arms over her chest fighting the urge to nibble on the skin of her fingers.

“To their heel?” The man scoffs.

“I think they'll accept anything that'll make them calm down.” She tries and soothes the captain's nerves, still not moving to sugarcoat anything.

“And if I fail?”

“They depressurise his chamber, he suffocates. She gets an iron bullet to the head.”

“Like choking out flames… Keep everyone out of those rooms.” The one winged hybrid steps to a door as the woman mutters a ‘copy that.’. Watching his figure disappear into the wraith's holding room.

“Simon.” His lieutenant looks short of wrecked; his blonde locs are tousled, shadows climb up the glass of his holding chamber and make a home around his limbs, the usual whites of his eyes are pitch black and his iris’ are a piercing white. He notes how the man doesnt look up until he calls for him.

“Price. …Shouldn't have come for me.” The dragon stops himself from frowning as the wraith drops his head once more, gazing at his feet. He can practically feel the regret radiating off his shoulders.

“Wouldn't have been your captain if I hadn't.”

“I would've killed him. On my own. It would've been clean. I tried to salvage your wing but he shredded the nerves, that fucker. …You came for me and you'll never fly again” The lieutenant continues when a blanket of silence falls over the captain's shoulders. Ghost doesnt look up until he hears the voice of his superior.

“...Took me four days to learn to walk again. I still stumble. When I see this wing in the mirror, I hate it. What good is one wing for a dragon? He should’ve just taken the set. Is that what you think?” Simon snarls in protest, standing to meet the Johns gaze as he slams the door to the chamber closed, not backing down from the blondes shadow littered form.

“NO!”

“You got him for me, Simon. I read the report. Straight through the brain and neck. You hit the artery dead on. Precise. Controlled. Because that’s you, lieutenant. You're in control.” Prices tanned fist rests on the chest of Ghosts; shadows fiss over his hand, taking him in yet barely grazing a hair

“...Not always.”

“Then trust that I am. Even one wing down.” The brunette turns on his heel propping the door open for the blonde to inch out and he does.

“I want to see ‘er” The older man sighs looking over his shoulder, biting the inside of his lip.

“Trust me.” He says simply leaving the blonde with his thoughts when he nods simply.

💌💌💌💌

“Get out.” Price hears you before he sees you but it’s not long until he finds you tucked into a corner, gaze faced towards the wall. His eyes immediately look towards your back; the fresh scar that trails down your spine peaks through the gaps in the hospital gown you occupy in. You don't move to look at him, he's not totally sure you know it's him.

“I'll be sure to keep you away from welcome duty, yeah?” You barely turn your head over your shoulder at the sound of the dragon's gruff voice. He doesn't smell like himself; the notes of aftershave, gun powder, and a good cigar are muffled underneath the smell of a sterile hospital despite him being in his normal gear –a weighted brace wrapping around his shoulder to get him accustomed to the imbalanced weight–.

“You shouldn't be in here, John.” The cracks on your skin he sees everytime you go in the field to battle are still there, unusually stubborn to leave. You're in a fetal position holding your knees to your chest, chin tucked into your arms and it pinches at his heart strings at how frail you look.

“Who else would be fit enough to come if it weren't your captain?” The brunette hums, lips tucking into a frown when you don't move to acknowledge him. He takes a step forward, a soft thump following underneath his heavy boot onto the cold cement floor before kneeling to your level; his rough, calloused, hands gently land around your wrist and he holds you there as you squirm beneath him.

“Stop John! I'm going to hur-”

“Look, love! You can't hurt me; you don't want to, so you won't. You know where to focus your energy and deep down you can control-” The captain follows after you in suite, standing to his full height when you do finally manage to rip away from him.

“You don't understand! You don't understand how it feels for something you can't control to grow in you every passing minute!” Your voice is short of a sob, your arms wrapped around your torso in a self-hug as you dart across the small room, anything to get away. John breathes in for a beat, listening to your raw voice that usually pooled like honey. There's veins crawling underneath your eyes and when you open your mouth wide enough he can see the sharp ends of your teeth.

“W-when he took my wings… he took all of me. I can't ground myself anymore, it feels like a fire spreading in me and the only thing I have to put it out is lighter fluid! I'm nothing, without my wings… I'm nothing.” You don't quite recognize when you start to cry until you can't stop, your shoulder wrack with sobs and exhaustion. There's a dull ache in your head, a plethora of things leading up to the factor. Your ears ring and you know your senses are dull as Price makes two broad steps across the room to reach you. His arms engulf you whole and you allow your figure to fall into him.

“You're more than anything. There’s no way anyone can convince me you haven't hung the stars in the sky; so I know not only as your captain, but as your suitor… that you'll overcome this and I'll be there with you, every step.” The dragon's chin is tucked into your head while his shirt catches the overflow of your tears; he takes your chin in his clawed hand, tilting your head to meet his gaze. He never takes his eyes off you; maybe if you looked in his eyes hard enough you could see how much he meant it.

“What if I can't do it?”

“Then I'll still be there, watching you make constellations connect.”

💌💌💌💌

*present day*

“You arent askin’ for permission so I won't give you any. But you know where I stand and we both know going cold turkey isn't working long term.” Price adverts his gaze to Ghost, his mask hiked above the bridge of his nose as he huffs in a breath of tobacco; his gloves are absent from his hands, shadows crawl up his forearms fading out at the peak of his elbow. The dragon's lips inch upwards around his lug at the sight.

“So what, I should let my hair out and frolic?”

“Always thought you were the spitting image of Julie Andrews.”

“Fuck off.”

“She's sharp, Simon. Picks up on things. You know and I know that better than anybody. And Johnny-” The brunette gathers himself up, crushing his cigar underneath his boot when he stands. The blonde finally looks to his superior questioning his choice of name for the mohawked sergeant.

“-Mactavish doesn't take kindly to people making decisions for him. Give it a chance.” He rebuttals sassily before continuing on turning on his heel to depart.

“You should take your own advice about Y/l/n.” The paler man of the two calls out stopping the tanner one in his tracks; he grins softly, gazing over his shoulder.

“Am I that transparent?”

“You've always had your favorites.” The skull wearing lieutenant pulls the black cloth over the remaining open surface of his face, not moving to look towards the captain.

“Don't pout, not after the conversation we just had. You know she's always been a different situation. I know how I'm going about the pup licking at her ankles but, seems you need more time to debrief.” John hums, fingers pushing his unbuttoned collar even more open before the pads of his fingertips graze across the mate mark on his collarbone. The blonde itches to touch his own at his shoulder blade.

“There's a meeting at 07:00 tomorrow, be there. And make nice with the vaqueros .” The dragon continues on his journey while the wraith grunts in response.

He’d see about that.

💌💌💌💌

posting every 3-5 days she says🌝

forgive me my shayla’s 💔

the semester is over and i can breathe again

i think i’m gonna explain lore down here in the next chapters

umm don’t we love Simon, Price, and Deity’s love story ^.^

my hyper fixation is chasin chaos right now i feel like i can’t write anything else >:(

i think this chapter took me the shortest amount of time despite being one of the longest so far

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thewriterg · 1 month ago

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it may take me a month to put out a chapter but at least im not using ai to write it.

IT MAY TAKE ME A MONTH TO PUT OUT A CHAPTER BUT AT LEAST IM NOT USING AI TO WRITE IT

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thewriterg · 2 months ago

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So Nanami and Gojo coded

i need to get some.

(another ramble cause i’m a NASTY DAWG)

(older sub x younger dom)

…

there’s just something so…indecent about relationship.

it’s wrong, i mean he’s so much older than you!

he was looking for a sugar baby and you just happened to meet, this was totally fate!!!

what you weren’t expecting was how sexy he could be, seriously where’s the old guy who’s on the verge of dying?

his suit hugged his body in all the right ways, his voice echoed so nicely in your head, and something about the way he looked at you…

it sent shivers down your spine.

the same shivers go down your spine when he’s begging at your feet, apologizing for being such a perverted old man.

it doesn’t really matter how you got there, a few drinks too many probably.

all that matters is that your foot is stepping on his cock and that he wanted more.

his deep moans rumble throughout the private suite he got for you two.

“what a pathetic cock, how are you supposed to satisfy me?”

you say harshly, and then another fun idea comes into mind.

“maybe you want to be the one to take it?”

with those few words his body convulses and his dark voice choked.

a wet patch forms on his designer pants and you laugh.

“did i give you permission? you have no manners for your age.”

he begs for your forgiveness, bucking into your foot once again as he slides another stack of bills to you.

this is getting fun.

#nanami x reader #gojo x reader

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thewriterg · 3 months ago

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𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐧 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐨𝐬’ chp. 6

pairing(s); simon ‘ghost’ riley x fem!reader, johnny ‘soap’ mactavish x fem!reader, kyle ‘gaz’ garrick x fem!reader, john ‘bravo six’ price x fem!reader, werewolf!soap, harp crow hybrid!gaz, dragon hybrid!price, wraith!hybrid (?) ghost, phoenix!hybrid (?) reader

summary; new moon, before, and diplomacy

word count; 5.4k+ | chasin’ chaos masterlist

A/n: trying to post every 3-5 days… don’t quote me

You all watch as Soap sits on hind legs, attention directed towards the moon. He pants softly with his tongue slightly darted out, his thick auburn fur keeping him protected from the occasional winds of the night. When the moon reaches its peak the Scott howls with a carrying pitch loud enough to hear for miles pass base.

“Calling for his pack.” Price clarifies eyes pointed at You and Ghost with a smirk that was all too knowing. Gaz clumsily howls back at the call; the wolf's head swivels, his eyes shifted from their domestic green to a glowing teal, the whites of his eyes now pitch black. You don't quite zone in on the conversation the dragon and harpy have –something about sitting out due to his wing you were sure– instead you tilt your head at the shifted sergeant and he mirrors you. The interaction makes you hum before you see the captain making his way to the field; he stands with his knees slightly buckled and his arms spaced away from his sides. The wolf playfully growls and the dragon's tail sways gently behind him.

“Alright lad, be gentle.” The four legged hybrid doesn’t waste another second, sprinting towards his locked target with precision head first into his chest. Johns sturdy though, and doesn't budge hopping on the back of his neck.

“Not bowling me over this time, son.” Johnny is quick to nudge him off his being and the man lands on his back, quickly moving out the way as the wolf went to pounce on him. You and Gaz watch as Ghost jumps over the wall landing on his knees with a thump immediately catching his attention.

“Alright, Johnny. Show me what you've got.” The skull masked wearing lieutenant quips. The sergeant immediately takes interest moving in a position to pounce, not taking note of Ghost's palms planted in the cut grass. When he goes to jump onto the masked lieutenant he misses; the wraith uses his shadows to push him up in the air using the upper ground to stare down at the wolf. Simon doesn't expect him to jump as high as he does, neither does he expect your familiar sparks of energy to nudge the wolf away. The sergeant lands on his paws force making his limbs slide through the dirt before coming to a stop.

“Hope you don't mind, pretty boy. They'll pull something if you're too rough.” You tease and you're sure you hear both men scoff while the shifted hybrid playfully growls at you before dashing off of his back legs. You're quick to move out the way as he topples over Simon in result of your place. Not who he was focused on but he plays all the same; he licks the lieutenant's stomach pushing up the black jacket to get to his skin. Price jumps on the wolf's neck loosely wrapping his arms around the base.

“You two enjoying yourself?” He calls out

“You could say that.”

“In a rough patch.”

“Need a nightcap, sir?” Kyle questions while Price cracks his neck rolling his shoulders; he eventually strayed away from the field.

“Probably stronger than that, Gaz. Later starts tomorrow, Simon, Y/n, take the the morning off. I’m guessing you’ll need it.” He hums at the sight of both his lieutenants while the Harpy snickers. You’re rubbing your palm on the underside of the wolf’s snout and Ghost takes place at the side of his neck. The Scott licks at your shoulder; vibrating with hums underneath the skull masked lieutenants person, tail swishing up and down.

Eventually the captain and sergeant call it a night leaving the three of you alone. You make way to more scheduled area, finding stray piles of tarps and bug out bags to lie on. Your eyes avert at the night sky, connecting random stars to make odd shapes in the scheduled sanctuary of your mind; something you hadn’t done since before… You’re quick to shift your eyes to meet the gaze that burns at your temples before continuing your bidding at the sky.

“Spit it out” You tempt plainly, you have your phoenix mask swept over your face, its orange and red tones contrasting against the night. Others have trouble reading you but never Simon.

“The anniversary’s next week.” He prompts back, it’s more of a statement than a question; the wraith knows damn well it is, practically branded in his memory with a hot rod. You snort at the choice of words he uses, shaking your head in response.

“Just another day.” You shrug seemingly unbothered but he knew better. The way– your shoulders got a tad stiff before resetting to their lax position, the slight pause in your subconscious movement, the way your lips slightly part before closing. The tell tale signs he stubbornly refused to ignore.

“Think I haven’ been around you long enough to know when you're arsein’ me?” The skull masked lieutenant glares at the side of your face and you huff beginning to get irritable at his proding.

“Are you seriously doing this right now?” You hiss out returning the hostile look with just as much intensity.

“Tell me when's a good time for you then, love? Humor me.”

“Don't sta-”

You both suddenly break away at the sound of whimpering beneath you. Soap whines, lying on his stomach paws situated underneath his snout; he rubs his fur coated body against the both of you nudging your shoulders with the tip of his nose. Simon scratches behind his ears and you pat the side of his jaw. After a moment you part your lips to speak.

“Ghost-”

“Simon” He corrects you and you fight the urge to roll your eyes.

“It was a long time ago, Si. I've come to terms with it.” You lower your body to the ground using your shoulder to prop up your head. Simon has a distant, hesitant look in his eyes and when he averts his gaze you place a hand on his jaw redirecting his attention to your person. He huffs against your hand, a bit stiff before he settles into the warmth of your palm. You lean down to press your lips against the corner of his masked mouth; When you go to pull away he wraps a hand around your back pulling you closer to the warmth of his body. He lift a hand to his face moving his balaclava to sit atop of the bridge of his slightly crooked nose –result of years of it being broken and reset– his scared face is no stranger to you and even as you only see a quarter of its surface you could recall every scar that littered his pale skin. His lips meet yours and even though you can’t see it you picture the scar dragging from the bottom of his cheek to end at the the middle of his cheek.

You're both interrupted again and it humorous of how annoyed the wolfs growl sounds. He tugs the sleeve of Ghost’s jacket pulling the blonde back a few inches –not– enough room to squeeze himself between the two of you opting to roll on his broad back. You can't help but let out a chuckle at Simon's face while Johnny whines for your attention giving the best puppy dog eyes he can muster. The skull wearing lieutenant rolled his eyes as you silently cave rubbing your fingers up and down the four legged mutts stomach.

“Don't pout.” You tease a smirk on your face at the lieutenant whose frown seems to deepen as you called him out.

“‘M not.” He sighs for the umpteenth time as you all begin to settle, getting as comfortable as you could; trying to accommodate each other's bodies. Simon watches as your blinks delay and the rises in your chest become further apart in time. Johnnys already out, having settled on his stomach paws set underneath his chin. The wraiths not too far behind, –while no stranger to the absence of sleep– he’s not sure how he feels about the sudden exhaustion that overcomes him.

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Simon groggily peels his eyes open; scratching the side of his bare head, the blonde shaved sides prickling the pads of his fingers. His eyes dart at the sound of movement at his side and the lieutenant is quickly gone rigid. The brunette scott –returned to his human skin– is pressed against his side, a leg thrown over his. However what makes the wraith's feathers ruffle is the wolf's attire, nothing.

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“Lt.” You can feel his presence before you see him, slowing the speed in your step until it comes to a full halt. Your head shifts over your shoulder, your eyes piercing as you reply back with his call sign falling from your masked lips. While the brunette adores it, he can't help but yearn for the softened exterior of your eyes he remembers. You note the sergeant is more decent than when you left him, having opted to part ways from the two men in the wee hours of dawn. He grins with a tilt of his head, dark mohawk complying with it.

“Not ‘Johnny’ anymore?”

“Getting your lieutenants mixed up, sergeant. You're slipping.” You muse sarcastically moving to turn on your heel.

“Pretty Boy then?” He stops you again.

“No need to read into it.” You surrender after a while and it's funny how quickly his face shifts to one of a drunk —peely, embarrassed, and comical beads of sweat.

“Just assessing the damage from last night. My wolf is- I know he can be a lot.” He views you from the peripheral of his vision, arms crossed over his chest, fiddling with the fabric of his tshirt.

“He’s you isn't he? Oh, I see. Embarrassed are you?” You finally direct your attention back to his being, eyes slightly squinted with a teasing undertone to your voice. The sergeant doesn't seem impressed at the humor you seem to find in the situation. You can see his poking canines as he parts his lips to rebuttal.

“I'm allowed to be.” He practically huffs.

“Don't be. He was a real good boy.” You hum patting his cheek with a gloved hand, it throws you a bit when he takes your wrist into his.

“Deity-” He starts

“Flatline.” You correct, trying your hardest not to hiss it out through your teeth. You mind breeches pestering Price for a golden star. Though, through it all the scott never dropped your hand.

“I woke up smelling like you two. Am I supposed to read into that?” You stare at him for a second and he notes how much easier he thinks it is to read Ghost over you; despite your same shared preference of a mask the scott couldn't understand how the other three did it.

“Up to you, Johnny.” You state plainly and he wants to scream at the mellowness of your tone; a frown adorning his lips while his eyebrows scrunch.

“...Wanna learn something new about werewolves, ma’am? Taking back control after going full wolf- it's like surfacing after a dive. Things are murky sometimes but what my wolf did, I remember it all.” The Scott’s clawed hand adorns yours, not waiting for you to give a proper response. As he goes on he slips off your glove, orange glowing cracks kiss the surface.

“What he smelled, what he saw, what he tasted.” Your fingers twitch against your will when the brunettes tongue darts, out swiping over the surface of your palm, never breaking the eye contact you shared. Your lips part and before you could speak the two of you are on guard as a voice booms down the hall.

“Aircraft in landing zone. Personnel respond.”

“...We're not done here.” You mutter in passing, shoving your glove back over your bare hand.

Soap was so damn close.

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Ghost could smirk at the scene of you making your way out to the landing; Soap following in suit. You move to stand next to the blonde fixing him with a pointed gaze that he raises his hands at in surrender. Boots clank against the metal ramp leading out to the open. Two men walk out one with patches of tan fur running up his arm with spots of a jaguar; he could shift between two of something –you couldn't quite recall– his cat-like tail mirroring the pattern of the fur above. The other you couldn't make much of due to his gear other than his tail; a little more fluffy then his partner but less fluffy then Soaps.

“The corps wasn't supposed to drop you off until tomorrow” Simon hits the head on the nail, never the one for small talk, beating around a bush.

“We know- but our window has shortened. That cockatrice was a bad omen. We sent word of the change of plans last night” Alejandro, –you recall now– stands with his arms crossed over his chest. Soap somewhat sheepishly grins taking fault.

“Uh… we were busy. Full moon.” Rudy –it had to be– nudges the back of his partner's neck and if the look on his face didn't tell him ‘I told you so’ the mutters from his lips did.

“Can't be helped. I'm Sergeant John ‘Soap’ Mactavish. That's Ghost and Flatline.” The Scott, quick to break formalities pointed at the two of you with his thumb before shaking the pair's hand.

“Lieutenant Simon Riley and Y/n Y/l/n! Good to put a face to a name, so to speak.” You hate how eager he is at the drop of your name, like he knows you. Your shoulders tense and the tips of your fingers tingle.

“Real reputation you two have. Real mean sons of bitches even before-”Another thing you couldn't stand were reptiles and here was a literal snake in front of you; talking about you in your own base. Valerias in front of you quicker than you'd like. The python haired woman squints her faint green eyes at your person, scales take place up her arms in patches. Simon's shadows project up his arms more opaquely and the Scott swore he could see your irises flicker that burning orange.

“C’mon this way. Captain Price’s got more experience being the welcome committee.” The wolf tries to make light of the situation with a stiff chuckle, sweeping the trio away from the two of you. When he averts his gaze over his shoulder he frowns at the sight of your tense selves and it deepens when he catches your form slipping through the doors of base in the opposite direction with some pep to your step. Simon opting to stay outside however, unknowingly turning his back to the brunette's gaze rubbing his palm down the back of his neck.

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“Heard from Soap our new arrivals made a bad first impression.” Price hums coming to stand next to the skull wearing lieutenant who didn’t move to stand from his seated position. The wraith unclenched his fist and clenched them again in a rhythm. His shadow sat more stubbornly, traveling up his arms making their presence known instead of being the usual fly on the wall they were.

“He tell you wha’ I had for breakfast as well?” John shrugs, raising a brow, hands shoved deep in his pockets.

“Could ask. Would he know?” Simon looks at the captain through the peripheral of his eyes before directing his attention back in front of him. The dragon notes the slight dip in mask at his forehead signaling the scrunch of his eyebrows.

“…They knew who we were. Before.” The older hybrid moves to sit next to the wraith, one knee propped up. His wing twitches to expand around the back of the man next to him, his hoard. He silently gives into it.

“Contracts of silence only go so far. We knew people would talk. They’ve gone and made Johnny curious. He wouldn’t push either of you, you don’t have to tell him.” The brunette assures the blonde and he sighs.

“…No. I do. My part at least” It’s Prices turn to huff now a small smile on his lips.

“Deity’ll catch up. She’s already startin’ to poke and take interest.” Simon hums knowingly; John notes how the blondes shoulder just barely release pressure at the mere mention of his second lieutenant.

“Smoke with me, Riley.” It’s more of a statement than a question, as John holds out a cigar for the lieutenant to take.

“That an order, captain?” Simon take the brown lug in his hand

“I’m sure you’ll force me to make it one.”

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*about six years ago*

“Rare to see you hovering, captain.” The blonde hums —his sides are short and there’s only about an inch or two on the top— cigar pinched in between the skin of his index and ring finger. They both look down at the scene of you training your soldiers; –normals, that day– you were on track to be so fresh at the role but, they expected no less from you.

“Thought I’d come see your boys work through their drills.” The dragon drags the smoke, allowing it to settle in his lungs before letting it go. His wings sit strong on his back, the slight breeze he catches in them makes him think about taking a flight.

“You mean Vernon.” The lieutenant replied stiffly.

“He's lagging.” The captain confirms his observation aloud.

“I know. But he's the only one who came back from Roba alive. We’ll need him on strike” The blonde curates strategically as he watches you make the soldier run a lap.

“All logic with you.” Price grins around the tobacco, arms crossed against his chest.

“Well I’m not keeping him for sentimental reasons.” Ghost huffs; dog tag dangling from his neck while he leaned on the stone wall beneath him. He feels an itch in the small scar kissing his cheekbone, he doesn’t scratch.

“Try as you might, I know there’s a heart underneath that scowl, Riley.” The older dragon hums

“A sorry excuse for one.”

“Simon.” The lieutenant averts his gaze from the field to his captain.

“I’ll have to hang back on this one. Roba’s men had their gear fine tuned to ping my heat signature ever since our last run in.” The brunette hums averting his attention from the way your tank top begins to rise at the low of your back.

“And They ‘aven’t gotten hers?” The blonde questions tilting his head towards the field. John huffs out a laugh, shaking his head.

“There’s not much their tech could detect on a Phoenix. Her heat signature alone wouldn’t be able to be measured, make their system go to shit.” The lieutenant thinks it’s oddly fitting for you watching as you bark positions.

“Putting these boys in the hands of you two. So you’d better come back in one piece. That’s an order.” The clawed hand on his shoulder is warm and Simon doesn’t think twice before responding.

“…Copy that.”

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“Simon Riley. You’re a difficult man to crack. To think you’d break your own damn wrists to escape! I’d be pissed about the mess but hey- four less men I’ll need to pay, eh?” The light of the hallway is brighter than the fire of hell; it shines down on Simon’s body and he closes his eyes, head hanging low. The wooden chair he’s bound to is anything short of comfortable —his wrists are rubbed raw behind his back by the too tight ropes, his ankles are bound to the front post of the oak wood chair legs, and he feels the urge to throw up at the throbbing in his temple with the dried blood sticking to his forehead from an open wound.

“Ah well, you special forces guys are all nuts. But you know what they say about us chupacabras” Boots smack against the ground without much remorse, approaching him stealthily. Robs is truly a blob of flub, his stomach pokes over his pants sitting atop of his belt. Slim brown spikes —a shade lighter than his darker than his kept hair— placed in a line through the middle of his head, his ears are pointed at the tips, his thick bushy mustache starts at the top of his lips and wraps down to his thick chin.

“There's no hide we can't sink our teeth into.” The grin on his mouth is nothing but sinister, teeth sharp. Ghost can feel his breath on the crown of his head; can't find the urge to redirect his closed eyes, tilted towards the floor and before he knew it the presence right above his shoulder began to leave.

“Your man Vernon- he learned that the hard way. Was all too eager to squeal on you and your captain, once we really got started. But ah as far as rats go, not much of a prize.” The blonde lieutenant listened as the gruff man simply shrugged it off while nothing was simple about it.

“You though… Señor Riley… you're just a Human, mixed up in matters you’ll never understand.” Simon wants to throw up at the quick movement of his head; claws roughly slip into his scalp, the pulling of his hair making him grunt.

“What do you say huh? I'll cut you a deal, same as your girl. I let you go home and you squeal when I pull on your tail.” He tenses at the mention of you, he wonders if they've killed you since they split you up after trying to escape. They would all find a fate worse than death if –he could never see your eyes again, never could feel the warmth of the small smiles youd give specially to him and John, never hear how you defended their honor when they weren’t present to. He’d kill every last one of them.

“I'll even sweeten the deal- be good and you might even get a promotion, eh? Between the two of us, Captain Riley sounds much better than Price, no?” Simon is beyond trained for these situations, hell he's found himself in these situations it was a routine; Don't let them know they've broken you, don't panic –it makes it all the worse–, assume no one is coming for you, and keep your mouth shut. As the leader drops the hold on the lieutenant's hair he’s quick to grab his face squeezing with too much pressure.

“Well?”

“... I'd rather rip your tongue off and feed it to you” The tone of Ghost's voice could make the highest of killers shiver. It wasnt like he had an aspiration to do it, no. The honest, certainty could make the opposing man go rigid. Instead he huffs out a deep chuckle.

“That look in your eyes… I bet you really would. Crazy son of a bitch. Ah, well. That's what I get for trying diplomacy. Should've taken the deal pendejo. You're about to learn exactly why humans aren’t built for deputies between monsters.” Roba tosses his head, slashing his claws through the skin of his cheeks when he does so. The sting is nothing compared to the look in his eyes when he hears a voice all too familiar approaching the room.

“Get the fuck off me!” Simon struggles against his restraints as you’re dragged underneath your arms by two men who were all too rough; one being your own damn soldier. You look frail, your skin is covered in patches of dirt, they've stripped you to your bra –having the decency to let you keep your pants that are littered with splatters of blood–, and there's a cut reaching from the tip of your brow and down the skin of your lid ending at the beginning of your cheekbone. You're thrown to the cold stone floor given barely enough time to break your fall with your wrists. Your hair is wet, the curl toppling down your back at the weight of the water.

“Your girly… she's like you. I offer to make her a captain, just for a few tests on the wings. Let my boys do their research, didn't budge one bit.” The blonde curses something colorful at the chupacabra as his greasy palms slip to the back of your head, dragging you to be situated in front of the lieutenant. Roba nods at his men and Simon curses Vernon just as fluently as he pulls your arm to either side of you leaving your back open.

“You lay a finger on her and they won't be able to find all the pieces to you!” The leader laughs from behind him, walking like a lion stalking its prey before situating himself behind your struggling form.

“See what I don't think you understand is… If I can’t have what I want, no one else can have it either.” You feel the cold steel of the knife on your back and before you can register your bra is cut. The lieutenant roars as the undergarment falls to the floor. Adrenaline picks up as he tries to lift his body up and down to break the oak wood.

“How about your pretty bird… won’t sing no more eh?” Simon watches as your breaths begin to rise and fall too quickly; you were too young, too young to be a damn lieutenant, too young to be in special forces, too young to be here.

“Si.” His name falls from your lips with a gasp. Your eyes are cloudy and all of sudden there's a lump in his throat.

“You’re alright lovie. Look at me. Don’t take your eyes off me, alright?” He knows you can tell it’s an order by the firmness of his voice but, his tone is so soft with you. Always with you.

“Funny thing about the Phoenix, my friend. They have these freaky little… tendrils of nerves called queues. My men were trying to figure out where the hell they could be, your man here though… gave them an idea.” You don't know what you were expecting but it sure as hell wasn't a knife in your back. The scream is short of human; it wasn't a human noise, in fact. It served no purpose but to express its pain in all ways seeking out relief. You try to keep it together for Simon, you try not to scream –you fail. While the cold steel of the knife rips down the skin of your spine it's a contrast with the white blinding, burning, pain you feel. You can feel the connection from your wings fading, dying, and the panic in your body stills, they've broken you. You open your eyes and can see Simon struggling on his side against his restraints; the remains of the chair scattered not too far from him.

Tears flow down your face in a never ending stream and your hearing you didn't know you'd loss returns as Roba ends his assault at your tailbone. You don't feel anything; you don't feel how you’re lowered to the floor, the smacking of boots around you, or the slam of the cell door. Simon moves his ass, rocking himself until he was able to sit up and scoot to your fetal position. You shiver at the air on your back; the wound leaks crimson in a way that makes a mess of everything it touches, slowly mending itself together.

“You're alright, you're gonna be fine. They'll fix you up real good when we get home, yeah? ” You try to hold your anguish but the effort is fruitless. You shake your head, lips parting before they close again.

“I can't f-feel my wings, my w-wings.” His heart drops again at the pure pain in your voice that shakes your chest. You can't find it in yourself to stop crying and he doesn't tell you to. Something so sacred, the only thing left you had connected to your past life –ripped from right underneath you.

“I know lovie, I know. You're gonna be alright, we're gonna be alright.” The blonde doesnt know if he's reassuring you or himself; he doesn't care to find out.

It feels like ice poured down your back when the door is swung open and you’re ripped apart from each other again. This time just a few feet apart instead of rooms down. Your body feels like it knows what's going to happen before your mind does; you've seen this scene before. A new sense of adrenaline is found within you when you project the back of your head to smack into the soldier behind that wraps their hands around your wrist; you come to find that it's the brunette who betrayed your team and the crunch of his nose is all the more satisfying. You're not given much time to do anything before you're grabbed up again and you feel sick as the fanged leader's chuckle falls over the room. Roba reaches over to take a gun from another man behind you. He pulls the barrel back and it clicks as he walks in front of Simon –who's forced on his knees–, still giving you a clear view of the scene. His earthy brown eyes dart to you quickly as you shout then quickly switch to the being in front of him.

“Please! Roba!” You begged him. You begged to any God out there that could hear for help; Understanding that life was pain, another living being had learned. Your body aches as the men behind you tighten their grip as you thrash beneath their touch.

“Sweetheart.” The blonde calls out to you and your stomach drops at the pet name; he knows what's going to happen and a weight tugs at the organ in your chest. You're sobbing again –you can't remember if you ever stopped– while there's a hand that pulls at your hair keeping your gaze locked in front of you.

“Please. I'll tell you anything, please just let him go.” Begging must look short of pathetic on you while Simon sits there on his knees. You hate that look in his eyes, like he's signed his name on his contract of fate in black ink on a dotted line.

“It's too late.” It doesn't feel real when the gun goes off; your ears ring once more and you fight against the hold restraining you. You scream trying to get to Simon; they've actually done it, they killed him. The way his body falls to the floor so limply, so lifeless. The last time you try to dart out of your restraints the butt of a pistol meets your jaw, your vision is black.

*****

Wraiths are amorphous, semi-tangible beings born of strong desires for vengeance. Often mistaken for poltergeists or demons, wraiths are characterized by explosive bouts of anger and violence which manifest through black ‘smoke’ that cling and stains their skin.

Myths around the world depict wraiths as the great equalizer in a world where humans are comparably defenseless. Folklore depicts wraiths as humanity's last resort, a way to balance the scales against the might of monsters.

The risk of creating a hellbent killing machine would often deter mass pillaging and destruction and would send a message to those careless enough to leave a survivor.

In the birth of a wraith, myths highlight the necessity of being at a ‘graveyard’ when close to death, as the impending return to earth tricks The Reaper into complacency… only for the surely dead to go on living.

Simon Riley kicks at the roof of the box he's in, the wood eventually caves beneath the force of his feet. The thumps and slight moving of pebbles of dirt are unheard by no one near; he snarls around the white cloth wrapped around his head, situated in his mouth.

Wraiths are characterized by immense focus. Anger.

The lynchpin of their transformation is their stubbornness to die and their burning desire for retribution.

His short fingernails morph to claws ripping the ropes that bind his wrist; his teeth adapt fangs that snap the tension of the silencer in his mouth. Thick black streams of smoke crawl up his neck.

They are known as living spectres. Their bodies' death clings to with such passion, that even Mother Nature believes they are dead. More commonly, these beings are known by a simpler moniker.

He's a dead man crawling up from his grave, his eyes are unfound on his face clouded by the smoke that crowded them. His uncanny long tongue darts out his mouth as he huffs a puff of rage, fangs aching as he snarls.

“The one's death didn't want.”

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Locked in clocked in this whole chapter

Yay Ghost and Deity lore! (events that traumatically alter their brain chemistry)

does chat want a tag list?

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thewriterg · 4 months ago

Text

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐧’ 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐨𝐬 chp.5

pairing(s); simon ‘ghost’ riley x fem!reader, johnny ‘soap’ mactavish x fem!reader, kyle ‘gaz’ garrick x fem!reader, john ‘bravo six’ price, werewolf!soap, harp crow hybrid!gaz, dragon hybrid!price, wraith!hybrid (?) ghost, phoenix!hybrid (?) reader

summary; debriefs, makeups, and a cockatrice.

word count; 3.0k+ | chasin’ chaos masterlist

A/n: Daddy’s home 🌝

“Preliminary recon?” Gaz notes, reading over the files that were passed around sitting in the window seal of the meeting room. He appreciates this room the most, the open bay window gives him a break from all the artificial lighting of base. The drift he gets against his wings that slightly ruffle his oak colored feathers against the radius lifts his spirits a little. —something to do with the nature of harpies, he's sure—. The crow hybrid has one leg underneath the other, talon clawed foot poking out along with the few stray feathers that lay against his calves in patches: unflexed, delicate, and soft since no threat was present.

“For the international corps. They’ll be sending us three of their best soon.” Price answers, arms crossed over his broad chest, stray wing spread strong, thick hairless pear green tail still behind his knees, horns mirroring the sight. He has the small quirk of his lips that he usually does, his form screams power and it wouldn’t take a wolf or vampire to smell the authority on the captain.

“Whew… really making us earn our keep, Captain” The rich skinned sergeant whistles combined with a slight chirp.

“Kyle will take point, Ghost and Deity on support, and Soap on clean up if it calls for it.” You sit in front of Gaz, your chin resting on your propped up knee staring boredly at the Mohawked sergeant across from you that immediately went to protest at his position.

“Clean up duty? What I do to you Price, shit in your coffee?” The wolf’s sarcastic remark doesn’t go unrecognized and his deadpan expression makes it all the obvious he’s not impressed.

“With the full moon in a few days you’re lucky I’m letting you leave homebase at all lad” The dragon matches the man’s tone, gaze pointing at him directly as to say: ‘don’t dig a hole for yourself’. You lean back in your chair, backside pressing against the wall and can feel Gaz’s calf feathers puff up against your shoulder there ghosting over his skin. It could bring a smirk to your face, that he still flaunted himself towards you way after the courting process. You throw your arm out on the edge of the window as you would on the back of the couch and the harpy wants to chur at the open initiation of touch. The hand that wasn’t balled in a fist propping up his cheek goes to brush against your forearm. The strokes are precise and broad like a paintbrush and if you weren’t immune to it goosebumps would’ve risen atop of your skin at the slight drag of his claws.

Kyle wasn’t stupid he knew you were reaching out about the night previous. You barely affectionately reached out to any of them but he didn’t take it to heart after a while. ‘Emotionally constipated’ he liked to joke to the team. Yet you had more than enough reason to reach out when night terrors plagued his mind.

💌💌💌💌

Gaz was painfully aware of this situation he was in being a dream and he didn’t know if that was worse. Dressed head to toe in tac gear bullets punctured through his shoulder and thigh. The sight around him makes him sick, his homebase rained hell upon. The 141 all lie in a pool of their own cold blood, dead before they have a chance to hit the floor.

The sergeant's wings were totaled and if he didn’t have more to worry about he would sob at the connection dying from them. Pitifully, he drags himself to cover behind a base issued truck. His ears are ringing and his body is overheated. When he settles and finally stops turning his head over his shoulder, the feeling of burning bile rises up in throat. Price lied unmoving, staring right back at him with lifeless eyes. One side of the dragon was completely burned and the other battered with bruises and knicks. Calm shore crashing blue eyes turned to nothing but still cold waters.

The harpy is not sure how exactly a phone made its way to his palm, if he’d taken it off the captain or got it off himself, all he knows is he’s dialing that number so familiar to his finger tips.

He fully come to terms that he’s in a dream now if he hadn’t before, somethings are just physically impossible to happen in real life —Yet it still hurts all the same.— The world almost fades to black and just before the tine fails he hears a click on the other side. A scene begins to draw itself out in real time as the hybrid begins to see you standing outside somewhere dressed in your usual all black attire.

“Y/n?! Y/n are you there I need you?!” He opens his mouth and it has yet to register to his shaken brain.

“Kyle?” You questioned, having only called him his real name on occasion and he missed the way he sounded on your lips.

“Oh thank god-, thank god y/n, you’re gonna save me right? I-I called you and you're comin’ to get me?” He tries to suppress his broken whimpers at the end of his rushed rant yet they escaped, neither of you cared to comment on it.

“Kyle, why did you call me? I work for another task force now, I can’t save you.” His brown eyes look at you on the other line, phone pressed against your ear, lips pressed into a line, and brows furrowed. The reality settles on him.

“You didn’t pick up…”

“Right.”

“It went to voicemail.”

“Yeah.”

“..So, this is where it ends.” The words were automated, he wouldn’t say that! He could fix it, he would fix it!

“It’s too late, what’s done is done…” He looks at you again and you of course can’t see him there. The way he painfully reaches out for you, his dead wings weighing his weak body back. You're picking at a loose thread of your jacket, staring off into the abyss.

“There’s nothing I can do Kyle, I’m not real. None of this is…” He knows, he truly knows it deep down yet… he hates to hear you say it.

“So what do I do now?”

“Kyle… it doesn’t matter”

“Well if it doesn’t matter… Can I stay on the phone with you at least?” He hums lying on his good side as the adrenaline wears down and out of his body.

“Okay…” You hum, sitting on the curb of some sort.

“How was your day?” The toffee skinned sergeant sighed gently, rattling his lungs.

“Good.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, my day was good.”

💌💌💌💌

“The op’s meant to be covert, Mactavish. A giant dog scream that to you?” Ghosts gruff voice falls over the conference room and the mutt ‘tsks’ underneath his breath before responding with a curt

“No sir”

You watch the interaction intensely, always the one to observe. Another moment passes and you hum standing from your chair, eyes advert towards your form. Gaz ignores the yearning in his chest and the urge to feel your skin underneath his fingers.

“Pups on clean up, got it. Mind if we wrap this up? I'm hungry.” Price looks at you wearily, before muttering a gruff ‘dismissed’ underneath his breath. You turn expectantly at the harpy crow pulling him with your eyes before you move towards the exit. The hybrid doesn't miss a beat hoping down from his position in the window. Soap irritably follows you both out, parting ways from the debrief room with a stiff tail.

“I was thinking, we could go to the abandoned dock… If you didn't have anything to do.” Gaz watched as you uncertainly inquired with an unusual bashfulness to you that lied underneath the surface of your mask. The harpy fights the calling to puff out the feathers on his chest in response to the rare display.

“Is the sky blue?” He teases and you can't stop yourself from rolling your eyes while the sergeant laughs at the display. You sigh as you both reach the outdoors the wind ruffles the feathers on the crows wings and sends slight chills up your spine at the quick change in temperature. The walk to the dock isn't too far from base somewhere close, yet scheduled and soon enough you're both stepping on the boardwalk. The wood doest croak beneath the pressure while making a way to the ledge Gaz takes a seat his leg dangling above the lake and you follow in suit. The silence is comfortable, the environment around you says what you don't. The current of the water, the leaves rustling in the trees, the bees humming and buzzing further away.

“ Did you sleep any better last night?” The sergeant’s gaze adverts while you stare out onto the water. He couldn't help to stare at your form, your eyes soft and your posture laxed. It was nice to see you so… domesticated. When he doesn't respond your eyes pierce him expectantly waiting for a response and he hums.

“Always sleep better with you” He grins and it isn't short of beautiful. You nudge his shoulder with yours in mock annoyance, the warm skinned harpy leans into you and you allow it. The silence falls over the both of you once more while the sun begins to set against the horizon. He feels you shift above him but doesn't move to look.

“Kyle, I'd never leave you for dead. No matter what happens or how things end… I'll always care for you” As the sergeant moves his line of sight to you his eyes slightly widen at your bare face. Youve shown your face to him a handful of times, usually in the small group setting you always preferred and his breath always seemed to slip away from him despite the fact. The color of your irises, the curve of your nose, the plump of your lips, stray scars from years of battle, the way your curls roll down your shoulders falling loose from the bun you had them in. He could never tire from any of it.

“I know you wouldn't.” He nods his head in response, never averting his eyes from you. The sergeant begins to sit up right and you meet him halfway; the kiss is gentle and soft; it says everything and nothing. Kyle defines himself as a selfish man because the thought of having to break away from you and eventually go back to base is almost worse than the night terror that plagued his mind the night before. You eventually break away from one another and Gaz chases your lips. You huff and nudge him away with your cheek trying to retreat from his over exaggerated puckered lips, you both tip backwards falling back on the boardwalk. The harpy rolls atop of you prepping kisses all over the surface of your face: The plumpness of your cheeks, the bridge of your nose, the curve of your lips, the skin on your neck. You grunt at the affection and once you had enough you flip yourselves over taking position on top of the harpy. Your hips position on top of his and you take hold of his wrists.

“I’d live in this position if I could Lt.” The toffee skinned sergeant grins up at you while you roll your eyes at his remark.

“You're hangin’ around Soap too much” He hums in response, not moving to deny, it makes you sigh all the more. Gaz grins mischievously and before you could raise a brow he flaps his wings forcing you down to press against his chest.

“If you wanted me closer, all you had to do was ask.” You can't stop the quirk of your lip at the way he looks at you and you're suddenly aware of proximity as well as your position. Your crotch is positioned atop of his, your chests are pressed against one another, and you could feel his breath against your skin. He hums in reply before his lips part.

“I always want you close, Luietantiet.” He practically growls and it isn't hard to give in to his succumbs as your lips smash together and your hips start to rock at a steady pace.

💌💌💌💌

“A fucking cockatrice, so much for a covert OP.” Soap chimes arrogantly into his mic, the Scott wasn't fully transitioned but he did double in size, ears pointed, and more hair adorning his body. He just sounded like he had a smirk on his face and it took everything in Ghots’s being to not wipe it off.

“Hey- silver lining! You're not just cleaning up anymore.” Gaz grunts between words he's perched on the hybrid's shoulders, wrestling a cloth on its eyes as it struggles beneath him. Out of all the bird hybrids he probably hated cockatrice the most and this one wasnt giving them a better track record at all.

“Hell of a recon mission Price.” The harpy chirps into his own mic, as soon as he thought he had a good grip the bird opened his mouth with a screech. The warm skinned sergeant lost his balance falling to the ground and the opposing bird didn't let up, grabbing hold of his wings and pinning them to his hips, applying much more pressure on one over the other. He curses openly twisting in the rabid animals' hold, freeing one wing and unsuccessful in granting freedom to the other. The cockatrice hisses, eyes an uncanny, piercing, red. Soap jumps on the back of the threat, tearing his claws into the hybrid's back, pasts his feathers and into his flesh.

“Chicken..” The two lock eyes and the cockatrice doesn't take a second before flinging the wolf off his back with the flap of his wing. The white feathered being began to panic when Ghost's shadows wrap around his wrists. The skull masked lieutenant pulls the rope like smoke down as the bird struggles underneath him.

“How long are you two gonna keep catching your breath?” He questions gruffly into his mic the hybrid slipping his shadows after twisting and turning from every which direction. The hybrid settles before opening his mouth to let out that wretched screech, but before he could fully project your orange and red sparks of energy wrap around his body and beak.

“Shut the fuck up.” You hiss before throwing its mass form into the tree with the swipe of your wrist. There's littered cracks up your skin like a cracked glass doll that shines a glowing orange underneath the surface. You take a few strides to stand at the side of Gaz and Ghost.

“You broken? The Phoenix and Wraith look at him wearlily and the harpy notes the thin sheet of worry underneath the glare of both of his lieutenants' eyes. Your face is free of your mask the hybrids doing, he was sure; your face matches your hands –the only skin not covered by your gear– cracks kissing your cheeks and your eyes glowing a faint orange.

“Fucker got my wing.” The sergeant huffs rolling his shoulder and attempting to stretch his cramped wing.

“Pay him back for the favor.” Ghost remarks gently raking his gruff fingers through the twisted feathers as gently as he could.

“Planning on it.” He mumbles, handing you your mask that he kept tucked away since he found it. You nod at him in thanks before slipping it back over your head, slipping your gloves back on in suit from your pockect. Before you could part your lips your attention directed towards the stray tail that came at you. Gaz expands his good wing stretching it behind your backs acting as a wall of protection. You and Ghost Interlock shadows and energy to rope around the cockatrice's tail. You all come to see Soap tearing a chunk out of the hybrid's neck as its squeaks and screeches die out. He’d tripled in size and shifted completely.

“..Fucking hell…” Ghost mutters

“So much for keeping it together ‘till the full moon. Guess we're lucky he's getting his energy out now, Soaps a handful when his wolf takes over.” Gaz hums knowingly at the scene.

“Less of a chatterbox at least.” You muse watching as the wolf digs into the white feather bird way past his time of death.

“Sure, but harder to wrangle. Can understand orders well enough, doesn't mean he’ll follow them and he’s… got a lot less inhibitions.” The wolf lands in front of you all, tail swiftly thumping behind, him panting softly.

“Menace in all forms, Huh?” You chide rubbing up and down the wolf's snout while his tongue darts to lick at your hand. Ghost fights the quirk of his lips at the sight, as the scott rubs himself against his body, stealing chin scratches from Gaz.

“He stuck like this until the end of the full moon?” The skull masked lieutenant questioned taking the thought from your mind.

“Or when the wolf gets bored. Whichever comes first.” The harpy replied not taking his eyes off the thick furred sergeant. He eventually hums and nudges you both with his eyes for help. You begin to lead the way, quickly turning around at the sound of the wolf whining and whimpering. Ghosts has his shadows around his neck as a makeshift leash yet that doesn't seem to be the reason for his protest. His animalistic brown eyes don't seem to leave your form as he approaches you. The Scott’s snout nudges your shoulder and you lift your hand up to see what he wants and with sharp teeth he tugs your glove off.

“You serious?” You huff at him as he licks your hand before nuzzling his neck on the same spot, whining when you didn't seem to comply.

“Alright, Alright.” You roll your eyes as you take part in Ghosts' shadows, red and orange sparks littering the black smoke around the wolf's neck. You both have hold of the wolf while Gaz lied perched on his furry back. You could imagine the facepalm and deep sigh Price would give you all when you returned to base.

💌💌💌💌

Not the post you were expecting on your feed 😭

it’s been a hell of a year and it’s only march hello?

trying to form a posting schedule, mind you.

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thewriterg · 6 months ago

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STOP THE NSFW POSTS I'M SAD I WANT COMFORT, NOT SOME ROUGH BACKSHOTS😭😭😭

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thewriterg · 9 months ago

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mr and mrs ‘let me do it’

A/n; I haven’t wrote for marvel in so long… anyhow, headcanons because I can and I want to

warning(s): both miles are stubborn in their own ways, mrs independent woman reader, slithers of mama Rio, a little bickering, mentions of social norms, pet names, rusty spanish, and language l

earth 1610 miles! who’s love language is acts of service, —as well as physical touch— in which it literally makes him go insane when you don’t let him do something for you. drastic or mundane you volunteer yourself everytime and he hates it

earth 1610 miles! who has to learn to somewhat bully his way into doing things for you… you guys sitting together during lunch and you forgot to get utensils? before you can even swing your leg over the bench of the cafeteria table he’s already up walking back to the cart that carries condiments, napkins, plastic packaged utensils and things of the sort

earth 1610 miles! where you both turn it into a little competition on who can help the other one more. you ask him to hold your phone so you can tie your shoe? that’s cute, meanwhile he fully gets down on one knee and ties them for you. Oh, his dorm is messy and he can’t find his notes he needed to finish over the weekend back home? meanwhile, your in your own room copying down what you you wrote from your notes filled with scribblings of words onto his semi empty notebook.

earth 1610 miles! who likes to do something to make your life a little easier no matter how big or small. your about to have a study session and you ran to the bathroom? guess who taking all the text books and notes out of your bag so you don’t have to rummage thought it? Well miles of course :)

earth 1610 miles! who loves you because you think about him and your actions really show it. he had to patrol and couldn’t watch the new episode of his favorite super hero, guess who recorded the who thing start to finish so he could watch it in his down time?

earth 1610 miles! who is in a healthy happy competition of completing services for one another with you because “Te amo aunque seas terco, mi vida.”

ミ★ミ★ミ★

earth 42 miles! who is quite literally wont take no for an answer. it got to a point where he would just start doing things for you instead of asking. you look like you’re carrying too many bags on your mini splurge at the mall? welp now you’re carrying NOTHING.

earth 42 miles! where you both grew up around the social norm of ‘the man should pay for dates with a woman’ and rather he knew it or not, miles subconsciously adapted it into his life. you on the other hand couldn’t call bull shit fast enough to save your life. however, while miles really did value your core beliefs he couldn’t really be bothered to break the habit. he wasn’t wealthy per say, but he had enough to simultaneously spoil you with things as well as help his mom with necessities.

earth 42 miles! who mutters a “watch out ma” when you even try and reach for your purse to pay for ANYTHING. total of $8.67 at the bodega trying to get snacks for your movie night? “I got it.” total of $78.92 after having appetizers, meals, and dessert? “I got it.” $250 to go get some self care done “I got it.”

earth 42 miles! that gets you so frustrated that you guys start to have petty arguments that mama Rio doesn’t stand for. yes you’re lovers, but she will still make you hug in the oversized, OVERSIZED, tshirt until you figure it out like you’re siblings.

earth 42 miles! who you have to learn just loves that way and if you want a change you have to force it yourself. the look he gave you when you came back from the “restroom” on your next weekly date having found out when he waived down your waiter that the meal was already paid for was priceless and so was the small twitch of his lips upward at the bright, proud look on your face.

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thewriterg · 9 months ago

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𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐜𝐮𝐦 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐡𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐧𝐨𝐰

pairing(s): kento nanami x fem!reader, sub!nanami x dom!reader

summary: you were here for a mission but, that didn’t mean you couldn’t have a little fun in your wake? It was nothing personal, honest.

word count: 800+

warning(s): reader is mean like sinister six mean, blackmailing, sub nanaminnn, restraints?, cheating, oral f receiving, slapping, orgasm denial, cock stepping, nanami licks your boot?, choking, pet names, sorcerer reader, and language

A/n:—GIFs; @pseudowho & — this is more of a thirst/ jumble of words then a fic

“Hello? Oh yes, good afternoon. How may I help you? Mr Nanami can’t come to the phone right now, im afraid. May I take a message?” The curl of your lips is short of ominous as you stare down at the blonde business man. Your foot bobs up and down with a board expression on your face listening to person over the line. When the sorcerer tries to speak —which comes out as nothing but muffled gibberish due to his dotted tie that was usually in perfect place around his collar was now being used as a gag— you glare at him harshly, applying pressure against the upside of his cock to be smashed onto the floor. It stares at you angrily flashing deep shades of reds and pinks.

“Perfect, goodbye now.” You place the corded phone onto its hook, sighing deeply at the continued protest coming from plush drooling lips. You lean torwards his kneeling figure and for a moment Nanami thinks you’re going to remove the cloth from his mouth. However, in response your closed palm makes contact with his pale cheek. The Impact leaves a biting sting that almost made him gasp at the unexpectedness of it.

“Can’t even follow simple instructions. God, this look is truly pathetic on you” You chuckle lowly, chocolate brown eyes staring back at you with a pure dose of hatred. You rub the bottom of your black pump against the skin of his length —the tip leaking pre onto the floor— and watch the slight shudder of his shoulders.

“You scream and I swear everything you have will be taken.” You wait for a quick moment before snatching the tie from around the blonde’s mouth, he makes quick work of bad mouthing you.

“You insufferable wom-”

“Now Kento, that’s no way to speak to someone making you feel like this.” The stiletto heel of your shoe is pressed to the slit of his sensitive cock and your palm makes a home at the base of his neck, squeezing with a steady pressure. Against his will, Nanami lets out a shaky breath, his body betrays him but he shakes his head all the same.

“No.” He insists

“No?” You muse

“No.”

“That’s rich seeing as you could’ve gotten out of the restraints anytime you wanted. Those ropes were made by a grade four and you’re what? A grade two at least, yeah? No matter how much your mouth says no, your body continues to say something differently. Poor Mrs. Nanami, sitting up in that six figure house waiting for you to come home… yet here you are being a manwhore” Your chuckle rings in his ears, you scent overwhelms his senses. You had him pinned literally and figuratively. God did you always smell this good?

“I mean, all you have to do is tell me to stop. Tell me to stop touching your dick and I’ll walk out that door right now.” You hum fingers wrapped around the base pumping up and down the length slowly. Shaky breaths along with slight grunts plague the air, yet there is no protest. You scoff at the action and drastically change the pace of your wrist making sure to drag it up his length at a rate painful to try and keep from coming to.

“Cmon’ Nanamin, I know you want to come. That’s it pretty boy, just blow your load.” Your thumb swipes over his swollen tip beads of pre spurting out at your every touch. Just as the feeling strengthens and he can feel him self beginning to peak you rip your hand away. The blonde grunts that sounds like a borderline whine, glaring at your figure.

“I know you didn’t think it’d be that easy. You’re a big boy Nanami, you know better than anyone you have to work for what you want.” You lean back in his desk chair placing your heeled boot on his chest, it shocks you how quick he is to comply; hesitantly darting out his tongue to swipe across the leather. You’d snap a picture if you didn’t have the desire to feel his tongue elsewhere.

“That’s adorable. How about you put that tongue to good use” You hum setting both of your legs across his shoulders. The look he has for you is to be described as nothing less other than drunk. The blonde peaks inside your skirt, you thighs bare of any undergarment and he doesn’t try to contain the groan that escapes him inching towards your center.

The office phone rings again.

“Hello? Oh- oh I’m sorry Mr. Nanami has his hands tied…” You grab on hold to the locks of platinum buried from under your tight pencil skirt, struggling to keep your voice steady.

“Can I take a message?”

#kento nanami #nanami smut #nanami x reader #nanami x you #nanami x fem!reader #sub jjk #Jjk #jjk smut #jjk x reader #romance #smut #fem!reader #spooktober #kinktober #i love you #thewriterg

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thewriterg · 9 months ago

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𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐟𝐚𝐥𝐥

pairing(s): johnny cage x fem!reader, kenshi takahashi x fem!reader, johnny cage x reader x kenshi takahashi

summary: fall was your favorite season of the year and you had rubbed it off on them

word count: 1.1k+

warning(s): poly themes, angst, mentions of an unhealthy relationship, pet names, kissing, mentions of depression, and language

A/n: —GIFs; @mortal-kombat-1— so my stupid ass scheduled the post for the wrong day which is why it’s late :| but here you are

“ ‘Taka just left huh?” Johnny speaks aloud —even though it was more of a statement than a question— taking a seat next to you. Your smile invites him to inch closer, he’d brought your beloved picnic basket filled with your favorite goodies. It was strange how you all felt the lingering presence of one another… a shared uncanny skill shared across swordsman’s and sorcerer’s.

Your hum blended in with the whistling of the trees while the brunette began to unpack the multitudes of fruits and snacks you enjoyed. Not indulging too much you lie flat on your back, the Hollywood star following in suit. You gaze up into the blue grey hues of the sky that took place earlier in the day now that the leaves were changing and the air was crisper.

Johnny closed his eyes taking in a deep breath taking in the cool air; something you rubbed off on him during this time of the shifting season. He didn’t know how long he was there for, with his eyes closed and nose open. When he did open his gaze it was darker than it was before. The sun was setting and his body began to get indecently warm despite the nipping chill that took over the evening. The effects of the top shelf whiskey taking its toll on his worn body as he took his fill in a swig that was a second too long to be considered a swig. You whisper to him, simple and straightforward like you always were —it sounds like the rustling of leaves, still blending in with the sound of the trees— what plagues his mind?

“Just can’t remember how we got like this. I mean- holy fucking Christ, we were something” The swordsman just barely slurs, proof he was decently drunk. You learn to hold your liquor at a young age when you grow up in front of cameras and celebratory parties. He wishes it could go back to what it was, he wishes it could’ve happened before it did so he had more time.

ミ★ミ★ミ★

“I win, again.” Kenshi was getting used to his new blindfolded life and successfully mastering something new daily. It was the best feeling to watch him succeed.

“Well aren’t you two a sight?” You hummed gently and watched both of them perk up like puppies. Johnny jogs towards you and Kenshi takes his long strides across the room before you are engulfed in an embrace. You feel your feet lift off the ground and you can’t tell who’s lifting who but it was warm and it was them and that’s all that mattered.

Both men hugged you like they haven’t seen you for over a lifetime because that was honestly what it felt like. Three weeks. Three weeks you’d been gone on a mission accompanied by Bi-Han and Sub-Zero and the feeling of yearning was strong. Once your feet were back on the ground you just stared at them both, Johnny’s brown eyes and even blind Kenshi’s face ever so expressive stare back. There was something off about you… no sarcastic remark or the immediate action of ‘jumping in their bones’. They scratched that though, Kenshi reprimanded you a million times about returning to full health mentally and physically before you were intimate.

Your palms slipped onto the surface of their warm cheeks, your cold hands able to send a chill down spines. You lean into them, your head landing on their shoulders that were pressed against one another and you let your body weight fall into your knees instead of onto them. Which they let you know they didn’t appreciate by a disapproving grunt coming from the back of the throat, lowering you all to the dark gray marble tile floor of the Cage mini mansion.

They worry, questions, and concerns are flying all over your head in one ear and out the other. You're propped on both knees, your bottom situated on the back of the calves, and your spine bent forward. It's all too much to bear. The mission wracks your mind over and over and over like a scratched dvd skipping and repeating the same scene. Corrupted children, chaos magic, blood, fire, smoke, murderer, ‘I had to’.

I had to,

I had to.

I had to!

The men watch as your shoulders begin to shudder, racking your body in totality. Johnny froze; he's never seen or heard you cry before, Kenshi flexes his arms around you attempting to ground you before you can even attempt to float. The Hollywood star stares at the Taira clan leader while rubbing your back, bending to fold over you, as if he was trying to take the words that plagued your mind for you.

“Hana, you have to let us know what's wrong so we can help you.” (花/ flower)

“Please baby, anything.”

You simply couldn't let the words leave your lips, it was not their burden to bear and you would not continue to let them worry. Yet you could not say nothing, you knew them, you knew they wouldn't let it be no matter how much you swore it. You took a breath through your nose, let it escape from your mouth and just as quick as you started crying is how quickly you stopped. Small hiccups escape your throat and you swallow them down before anymore can escape.

“I just, I just missed you both. I thought I wouldn’t see you again.” You breathe out heavily through your mouth. It wasn’t necessarily a lie but it wasn’t the truth and if they don’t believe you they don’t say anything about it.

ミ★ミ★ミ★

“I-it wasn’t supposed to be you, dolly.” When he registers the first drop of warmth that makes it to his cheeks he struggles to stop the continuous flow. His hand clutches onto the pure white stone of your grave, his forehead leaning against your name. Life seemed so empty of everything, after your death Johnny and Kenshi tried to continue the relationship without you it’s what you would’ve wanted them to do. However, it simply just didn’t work. They loved each other, of course they did… but when such a drastic piece of the relationship was missing so suddenly, it took a toll on them. Arguing, coming in late, throwing things, after a while of denial they best though it be good to go their separate ways.

“This is your stupid season. Your stupid color changing leaves, your stupid cold nights, y-your stupid air. How am I supposed to live without you this fall?”

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thewriterg · 9 months ago

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The Cory Kenshin of tumblr

I feel like I get this at least three times a year and it makes me giggle every time

#my nonies #nonnie #anons #i love you #thewriterg

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thewriterg · 9 months ago

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How have you been?^^

I’ve been decent nonnie, ready for break honestly 😓I hope you’re doing alright!

#my nonies #nonnie #anons #i love you #thewriterg

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thewriterg · 9 months ago

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YOURE BACK!!

IM BACK! (this made me a little emo like omg you guys actually care 🤧)

#my nonies #anons #i love you #thewriterg

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thewriterg · 9 months ago

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𝐬𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐭𝐨𝐨𝐭𝐡

pairing(s):spencer reid x gn!reader, mention of spencer x derek

summary:your meanings of a sweet tooth increased to a ten fold when the leaves start to change and the air becomes crisp. however, you have a level of self respect that your boyfriend doesn’t

word count: 650+

warning(s): fluff, pumpkin spice slander, pet names, kissing, and language

A/N: —GIFs; @undertheniall & @chemicalh3arts— im a little rusty give me a break

Spencer eyed you warily at your foreign action. Right before he could press the skin of his lips onto yours, your head turned with a quickness. A passion. The brunette racked his mind of what he could’ve done going down the mental checklist in his head.

Took the trash out, watered the plants, closed the drawer in the kitchen you frequently bump your hip into early mornings going to brew your coffee when he leaves it open, —boxes of tea sitting against each other in tip top shape and organization—

There were established boundaries in your relationship that the two of you silently promised to never cross. However, the doctor couldn’t help but to itch to break your most solid concrete one.

You weren’t allowed to profile one another.

No matter how dire the situation seemed, or how well intended it seemed. No. Profiling

All of this amused you to no end. While you struggled to keep a decent poker face at your boyfriend’s kicked puppy expression, he battled internal conflict on what could’ve changed in two hours. You were fine getting ready this morning, you were fine at the office, you were fine leaving the office, hell you were fine even with him telling you him and Morgan was going to try a coffee shop down the road.

What changed in a mere hour!?

“You’re a liar!” You accuse strongly, it’s funny how your top doctor lover couldn’t pick out the dramatic undertone in your voice. It was only a matter of time before you were going to crack your ‘hurt’ facade.

“What!? Ab-”

“Out of all the seasonal treats… Apple pie, sweet potato pie, cookie butter, pecan everything, apple cider donuts, fritters, cinnamon swirl bread, the list could run forever!” You throw the back of your hand over your forehead in mock distress. It’s comical the way Spencer deflates at the realization.

“You dare try to lay your lips on mine with that horrid, wretched, foul tas-” Before you can finish your sentence the lanky brunette is already plopping down onto the couch surface with a irritable sound of protest muffled by the fabric of your sweater.You smile down at the head full of curls staring back you, running your fingers through them making more by separating the bunches they make.

“Can’t believe I fell for that” He mumbled almost sadly for himself going crazy that he was so weak to your advances… I mean you worked with these types of people everyday! To think you were actually upset with him for a… rational reason. Instead you were ‘hurt’ simply because of his choice of pumpkin spice black coffee Morgan had convinced him to try.

“I can’t believe out of everything you chose pumpkin.” You teased in a matter of factly way while still massaging the back of his scalp. You could feel the curl of the brunette’s lips past the thin sweater you were wearing. When Spencer finally moved his head from being burrowed in your stomach the big guns were out and blazing. A certain pout with his combination of sad eyes made you fold everytime and the brunette knew it too.

“Spencer.” It was your turn to whine now dragging out the final ‘R’ in his name and he hummed satisfied. Pursing his lips and inching towards you. However, he was still to be met with a completely different texture than the softness of your lips by rather the palm of your hand.

“You seriously have to brush your teeth”

“Well studies recorded that if you face your discomforts head on then you’re 20% more likely to be less uncomfortable about it.” You can hear the smirk in his voice as he inches closer, making you squeal. You quickly turn yourself loose from his hold before it can tighten around your arms and you two spend the evening playing catch the cat with smiles on your faces.

#🦇𝐒𝐏𝐎𝐎𝐊𝐓𝐎𝐁𝐄𝐑;𝐆 #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x gn!reader #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x male reader #spencer reid x you #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds x you #romance #fluff #spooktober #flufftober #spooky season #writing #i love you #2024 #thewriterg

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thewriterg · 1 year ago

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why do I not hate it

request from sibling

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thewriterg · 1 year ago

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𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐦𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐲

pairing(s); ino takuma x fem!sorcerer reader, (mention of ino takuma x fem!reader x kento nanami)

summary; You’ve taught him all you could, now it was time for him to try his own hand. Ino wasn’t ready to let go just yet.

word count; 1.5k

warning(s); SMUT : >, ino gives you head, degrading, praise, sub!ino, small age gap ino is 23 r is 27, mention of threesome (heeheheheh), idk bud is just pathetic

A/n: GIFs; —@galarrapidash & @jesuistrestriste— THANK YOU GUYS FOR 2k!

“Tell me it doesn’t matter.” Ino watches leaned against the doorframe of your shared as you simply look over your shoulder rubbing a body butter up your legs, the legs that he worships. Your eyebrows furrow the extra skin gathering between your forehead while you maintain eye contact.

“Tell me it doesn’t matter if we don’t win in Shibuya tomorrow… if I don’t gain Nanami’s watch” The brunette’s voice dies out and your lips purse. Shaking your head the delicate strands moving along in sync with the movement; you turn your attention back to moisturizing your skin.

��No. You tell me if it matters you’re the professional jujitsu sorcerer, Takuma.” Rising to your feet the navy blue slip dress that he bought for you sits loose against your skin. He identifies it easily, he’d bought it for you after he earned his first check from sorcery. Sitting the tub of body care on the charcoal grey nightstand in the overly priced hotel you finally turn to look at him. The sound of his last name on your lips sending shivers up his spine reminding him of when you refused to address him casually.

“I’m not a nun. I’m not your mommy.”

“I’m just asking you’ll love me no matter what.” Ino called back, fiddling with the ring around his middle finger.

“What am I? Your God?” You huff a small chuckle, taking a seat to position yourself on the fluffy white duvet that always seemed to be the same.

“Yeah.” The tanned skin boy huffed back and you close your mouth shut. A moment passes,

Then two.

“You can beat him.” You were a mystery to Ino even after all this time however, you had yet to lie to him.

“What if I don’t? How are you going to look at me if I can’t beat Mahito?” The brunette’s gaze finally lifts from his scarred hands, big brown eyes falling over the outline of your body. Your eyes find his or his finds you, he can’t quite tell. They’re low, sultry, and bring him against his will —as if he’d back out anyway—.

“Just like this.” Another moment.

Another two.

“I’m going to say something. It’s probably gonna make you angry. I need you to hear me out, okay? I don’t wanna get Nanami’s watch rather we win at Shibuya or not.” Takuma’s arms fall to his sides as he fiddles with his fingers. You sigh, closing your eyes for a quick moment while nodding your head. He waits for them to open before he continues on.

“I’m still gonna go for it. I’m still gonna try but… I don’t need Nanami’s approval. I need yours. I don’t wanna be one of those guys who doesn’t know when to walk away, okay? Who- who, doesn’t choose his partners approval over their hero’s advice. It’s embarrassing to still be doing this shit when you’re a grown ass man.” Your head swivels before you shrug

“Okay.”

“Okay?” The masked sorcerer turns his attention away from the opposite side of the door frame that he had his back pressed upon.

“If you wanna quit being a jujitsu sorcer, you can quit being a jujitsu sorcerer let alone gain someone’s approval. You don’t need my permission.” You wouldn’t admit that your heart skips a beat when the brunette turns his back towards you, not taking more than three steps he spins back of his heel. He watches you watch him, gently dive his top half on the mattress legs still standing on the ground. The position forces him to look up to you.

“We’ve been doing this together. We’ve always been doing this together” His voice is barely above a whisper.

“I’m your Sensai. Okay, I work for you.”

“Teach me then.”

“I am teaching you.” Your voice gets a bit sharper, a little more firm.

“I’m fighting for both of us, Y/n. I know that.” You take a breath and your shoulders rise and fall with it. With your bottom lip between your teeth you stare down at Takuma with tired eyes.

“If you don’t win tomorrow, I’ll leave you.” You shake your head as the second grade plants his face in the sheets with a deep, shaky, sigh. The back of his head stared back at you, his rich brunette hair that adorned his shoulders falling to the sides of his face. You run your fingers through it, from his hairline to his nape.

“I’m serious. Does that help you?” Your voice is nothing above a whisper now. Your hands continue to keep themselves busy as your nails repeatedly soothe themselves through his scalp. Sniffing flowing through the air before the boy finally brings his head up to sit in your hand. Your thumb softly swipes across his cheek like windshield wipers blades, you glance down on the features of his face —a pout occupying his lips—. Takuma places a plethora of kisses to the inside of your wrist before continuing up your forearm and quickly to your shoulder. You allow him to settle his whole body on the bed before you take his lips against you, hands settled on the side of his neck. He hikes himself higher for a second to rest his velvet like lips on your forehead for a beat before coming back down your shoulder. The brunette leaves kisses in his wake sniffles not yet dying down but almost amplifying. Resting his head in your lap as he presses a kiss to your knee, the knee. You both sit in silence for the amount of time, you cannot count.

The peck against the surface of your panties almost makes you flinch, almost. Your gaze falls down to Takuma whose face isn’t visible to you; head in between your thighs laying gentle touches in between them with his lips.

“Ino.” You warn

“Please… just please let me do this.” There’s a slight whine to his voice as he licks a stripe up the thin cloth of the black cotton. You can feel his warm tongue through the material. With hesitation you temporarily raise your hips from the mattress while he’s quick to pull your undergarment down before he’s plunging nose deep in between your slicking folds. Your hand grabs a chunk of hair, your thigh gets thrown over your shoulder.

“Can’t go five minutes without h-having your mouth on something, huh? So needy Takuma.” The brunette whines into your cunt, the vibrations make your breath hitch in your throat.

“Please, please. I need it so bad” With no remorse, he’s squeezing his hot tongue In between your folds attending to your throbbing clit. The second grade begins to buck his hips into the sheets searching for any type of friction to soothe his half hard cock. Ino moves his lanky fingers to circle your sopping hole before inserting two fingers. He looks up at you for approval, strands of loose hair sticking to his forehead, eyes glossy and doe like a puppy.

“Need you s-so bad mommy, so bad. Only n-need you.” The brunettes back to lapping your juices with his tongue not letting anything slip by.

“Yeah? I see the way you look at Nanami, maybe I should ask him if he could do something with that whore-ish cock of yours.” Ino lets a high pitched moan slip between his lip, his hips that were once rutting into the sheets at a steady pace now stutter in their wake. You begin to grind your pussy over the mouth presented to you and Takuma’s fingers frenzy thrusting into your plush insides through the ring of muscle.

“Fuckk, pleasemommypleasemommyplease-” The moan he produces is damn right pornographic and it’s not long before he’s looping an arm around you pulling your warm, slick, cunt impossibly closer. While being nose deep into your pussy, Takuma borderline suckles on your clit like he would your hardened nipples when the cool air becomes too much on nights and you groan at the intensity of it all. Fingers pressed into your entrance, a hot tongue circling around your bud, and all of a sudden the chord in your stomach is moments away from snapping.

“Need you to finish, need to taste all of it. Please.” The brunette realizes when you finish almost immediately, your warm walls are squeezing his fingers so tight that it could cut the circulation. You’re quivering, vision spoty, and eyes rolled to the back of your head, and that’s all he needs to shoot white streams into his boxers like a horny teenager. You’re both panting while you throw an arm over your eyes, your opposite hand placed on the back of his neck rubbing your thumb up and down his nape.

“You did good Takuma, you did good.”

💌💌💌💌

we’re gonna act like I haven’t posted in three months…

I need —active— moots please 😓 (show it to me please!☹️ send it to me Rachel 😓)

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