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Guilt in whump. Heavy emphasis on that guilt being felt by Caretaker or anyone close to Whumpee.
I love it when Whumpee isn't taken seriously. Maybe before the Whumpeningâ˘, they were known to be overdramatic, or are a 'person who cried wolf' type. So, when they tell Caretaker, who is actively tending to visibly wounded patients, that they're hurt, all they get is a brief once over and a "can't you just take a pain reliever? I'm busy."
And it happens, time and time again. Maybe Whumpee seeks out someone else, but everyone has the same dismissive attitude about it. Perhaps it gets to a point where people aren't just annoyed, but frustrated. 'This is serious, Whumpee, we don't have time to be messing around!' After numerous attempts, they still won't receive any help, and so they stop asking.
Things have seemingly gone back to normal. Then, Whumpee's legs give out, and they're unconscious before they even hit the floor. Caretaker is first to look, and feels their heart drop into their stomach when they find out Whumpee was, if anything, underestimating how bad it was.
They must have been hurting for days, possibly weeks. They came to Caretaker, whose entire job is to ease pain and mend wounds, and were turned away without much of a thought. They can't furrow their brow this time and ask Whumpee "why didn't you come find me?" because they didâ over and over.
Bonus points if Whumpee is alone when they finally collapse. No one finds them until they're in a puddle of their own blood, pale and far too easy to pick up.
Why did you even join the military? You werenât still sure⌠You had nothing to lose and you never wanted to work at some fast-food chain, earning barely anything, dealing with people all day⌠and on top of that, being constantly tormented. You thought everything would change, starting everything all over again.
Well, you only thought. You had just joined some other version of hell. It was normal in the beginning, and you expected there to be a lot of immature boys⌠but hell, it was unbearable. You had a few female friends, but you couldnât really chat with them⌠so you were all alone. You didnât complain; you had your own little world. It wasnât hard⌠until you met them: Ethan and Derek.
You first thought they were interested in you, some kind of childish crush. You didnât care⌠but it turned into a nightmare.. they were harassing you.
It started with little notes:
"You look cute today"
"That hairstyle suits you"
- Your dearest Ethan :)
âŚ
âYou look so good in that tank top, it really squeezes your breasts very wellâŚâ
âŚ
You just looked at that⌠disgusted. You didnât wear that tank top after that day. Sometimes they came to you and had small talk; you just avoided them after that note, but they werenât really happy about itâŚ
Slowly, everything turned into bullying. You felt everyoneâs eyes on you⌠giggles⌠looksâŚ
After training, you showered in the locker room, put on your clothes, and turned to leave⌠Ethan and Derek were looking at you and smiling. You felt a knot in your stomach⌠speechless.
âYouâve been avoiding me, babyâŚâ said Ethan, stepping closer to you.
âWhy donât you just take off that hoodie and let me see your delicate body?â
You stepped back, your hands started shaking. âEthan, itâs not funny, quit that.â Then he grabbed your arm and shoved you against a locker. You started strugglingâQuit struggling, baby⌠you want this, donât you?â You just started crying. âEthan, please stop.â
âEthan, I said fucking stop.â You kicked his stomach; he whined a bit. âYou little bitch.â You turned towards the door to run away, but Derek caught you. Ethan grabbed your chin. âLet me put that mouth of yours to use.â
Fuck⌠fuck⌠fuck⌠you were done⌠You kept struggling, tears on your cheeks, chest burning. He unbuckled his belt⌠you looked the door.. hoped.. hoped.. and the door opened. It was nurse.
âWhat the fuck is happening?â
...
You just sat there⌠at the commanding officerâs office, and learned that Ethan was his nephew.
âIâm sorry for what happened, I truly am, but thereâs nothing I can do. Youâre a smart woman⌠I can clearly see it in your eyes, but Iâll make sure this never happens again. I warned themâŚâ Only warned? Your throat kept burning; you forced yourself not to cry. "âŚIâm preparing a report. Iâll transfer you to another barracks."
...
That was it⌠You were preparing your bag. The nurse was sweet; you didnât count how many times you thanked her. She said she had experienced something similar too. She was panicked when you screamed in the locker room. Your luck really worked that time.
The new barracks wasn't that bad, you had some friends in here, the boys were minding their own business. But there was only problem, There wasn't enough bed for you and had to stay with a higher rank soldier, you were nervous because you just met with a lot of higher ranked soldiers, they seem sweet, way better from the old barracks. Captain Price told you that he saw the report and wished luck for you. Of course the report wasn't that detailed, it only mentioned the bullying, nothing else..
You entered the room.. it felt cold, you didn't really examined the room you just started putting your clothes to wardrobe
Captain Price mentioned that your "new roommate" was a Liteutant, Simon "Ghost" Riley, he was in a mission and returning after a week, you had a knot in your stomach.. still affacted after that incident.
The week was good, you kinda socialized and made new friends damn you even started laughing you were healing.
You were just sitting at the room and.. the door was opened... he entered.. seem a bit scary, had a mask printed skull, he froze.
"Who are you?" He's voice was deep, asked it in a low, gravelly tone, calm yet edged with an unspoken warning.
"I.. i umm.. i transferred here.. the barracks were full so they gave me this room.."
He just looked at you, you felt so fucking ashamed, why didn't they mentioned about you? He just nodded.
"Keep your things to yourself. Try not to make any noise." Damn⌠you wanted to sink into the ground; he was.. intimidating.
"Okay, sirâŚ" He didnât look at you after that, never spoke, only made eye contact sometimes. Slowly, he made space for you, organized his things on his side, giving you some room. He left the room early and came back late; sometimes you didnât even notice when he came or went.
Well, this guy was interesting.
(this was my first fic and english is my second language if theres mistakes im sorry..)
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The team had all been assembled for an important meeting. Whumpeeâs side throbbed with every beat of their heart, their nerves turning their pulse into a constant, agonizing reminder. Despite that, they played it coolâ even managed to crack a few jokes during the meeting. No one questioned the fact that they stayed seated as the others filtered out of the room.
Everyone except caretaker. Then, before they knew it, they were alone, the door closed behind them. Caretaker sat nearly parallel to them across the table, silently glaring at whumpee like theyâd been doing the entire meeting.
Whumpee drummed their fingers on the long, polished table to an awkward beat.
âSoâŚâ they finally said, âis this the part where we turn off the lights andââ
âJust stop.â
Whumpee scoffed, âI beg your pardon?â
âStop it. This act.â
Caretaker stood up and walked around the table. They didnât tear their gaze from whumpee the entire time, and once theyâd gotten close enough they placed one hand on the table, another on the back of Whumpeeâs chair, and leaned close.
âYou might be justified to think the others stupid, but youâre getting on my nerves now.â
âI⌠donât know what youâre talking about.â
Price asking reader "you broken?" After you rendezvous with him during an op, and when you start to tell him how much your chest is hurting, he scoffs "i didn't ask if you were hurt, kid, I asked if yer broken. Can you still fight?" Of course you know what happens to soldiers who dissapoint price on the field, so you ignore the sharp pain on every inhale and nod "good. Now get back out there, soap needs support."
Part 2 to the 'slept your way up'(I can't think of a better name lol)
Whumptober day 9: Alternate prompt Jealousy
Pairing: None
CW: Military inaccuracies, sexism, canon-typical violence, halo references(sue me i was rereading the books okay) and dw, will still make sense if you haven't read halo. not proof read
Part 1
The transfer request ended up on Laswells desk. Price never signed it, insisting he could fix things, but you weren't above going around him. Especially not after everything that had happened.
Laswell didn't question why you wanted to leave. After all, she was a woman in a position of power. She had heard everything that had been said to you an more. She had a thick skin now, but she remembered how much it stung when she was starting out.
"I have an op I can put you on while I find somewhere to put you."
You said yes without a second thought.
And once you were gone and safe from the fall out, Laswell rounded on her boys.
"The hell were you thinking?" She spits, "You think I just put whoever on this team? I'm in charge here, I get the final say. Even if she did sleep with john, which she didn't, I have the final say. I wouldn't let someone who's only qualification is how good she is in bed onto this team. Though my judgement seems to be impaired since the three of you only seem to be thinking with what's between your legs."
Soaps ears flush and Gaz starts fidgeting with the hem of his shirt. Ghost shifts uncomfortably. At least they have the decency to look contrite.
"Where is she Kate." Price asks, "They want to apologize."
"She's gone." Laswell rolls her eyes at the various sounds of surprise, "She's a skilled operative, young as she is. I brought her on board because she has undercover skills the rest of you don't. I'm not gonna waste her on administrative leave while I sort out her transfer."
"Can ye bring 'er back?" Laswell snorts at Soap's question.
"No chance. She's gone deep cover, infiltrating a group called SPARTAN we suspect to be trying to create super soldiers. You all will just have to sit on your guilt until she gets us what we need."
The next 6 months are spent clearly being punished by Laswell. They are forced to attend sexual harassment seminars, and are cut off from all but the most important of missions, forced doing grunt work instead. Anytime Price is in the same room as them, he just looks disappointed. Everyone is miserable. They just want things to go back to the way they were.
How dare they. You seethed silently, arms crossed in the back of the transport. How fucking dare they. After everything we've been through. That's what they think of me.
You were beyond pissed. But you didn't have much time to dwell on it. As soon as you got to your destination, you were given a false name and life to fall into. You were shown the black market listing for what you needed to do, and within hours of touching down you were alread signed up for the SPARTAN program, a small chip inserted into your wrist that would record everything until you dug it out and activated the homing beacon inside. You were then taken under the darkness of night, blindfolded and handcuffed and driven for hours and hours before getting on a plane and then driving some more, until finally you reached a facility in the middle of the jungle.
The SPARTAN program was unlike anything you had experienced. Competitive games that were quite literally survival of the fittest. Came in last place in the race? No dinner for you. Lost at capture the flag? No sleep. It was kill or be killed.
Thankfully, your trusts issues kept you from being stabbed in the back. You felt a sense of derisive gratitude towards your former teammates as you watched the other members of the program sabotaged each other to get to first.
You clawed your way to the top of the class, with the scars to show for it, earning the trust of the instructors. Rules were laxed, blind eyes turned if you were wondering somewhere you shouldn't be. Most assumed you were just trying to get further ahead of your fellow recruits. No one suspected you were gathering intel to use against them until the wrath of an international special forces team descended upon the camp.
"That's the problem with assumptions, isn't it?" You hissed to one of the instructors you were arresting, making sure your mic was on so you could be heard by loud and clear by certain other people, "It makes an ass out of you and me." You shove the man who had tormented you for six months onto the back of a van, slamming the door shut as hard as you can.
Your old team is standing next to the van as you step back, but you don't even spare them a glance as you limp past, headed straight for Laswell. the SPARTANS hadn't gone down without a fight, and you hadn't come out unscathed. The other recruits turned on you, and its a miracle you came out with just a though and through to your thigh and some cuts and bruise.
You just wanted to go home.
"Bonnie!" Soap calls after you. You ignore him. Rage still simmers in your stomach, and your time apart had only made it grown stronger, if anything. A hand grabs your shoulder and you rip yourself out of their grasp, spinning around angrily.
"What?" You practically snarl at Ghost, "Gonna ask me if i slept with anyone we just arrested?"
"Wha- no. Y'r hurt." His voice is steady and flat, but you can see the flicker of guilt in his eyes. Good, you think viciously, he should be guilty.
The rest of the team steps up, minus Price, who seems to recognize you want space. Gaz keeps his eyes downcast, looking apologetic, but he doesn't say anything. No, it's Soap who opens his fat mouth.
"Bonnie, we're-"
"Not here boys." Laswell appears at your shoulder, "You want to grovel, you can do it on base. We have people to imprison, medical attention to get, intel to look over. and a debrief to do. Personal feelings can be sorted out later."
Or never. You think bitterly. You plan on being gone before they have the opportunity to talk to you. You didn't want to hear whatever pitiful excuses they had come up with in your absence. You just wanted to go home and have a fresh start.
If only it'd be that easy.
A/N: okay i never intended to do a follow up for the og post, but then I had brain worms. So here. IDK if it made sense but whatever
tags even though its been a year since part 1: @blackhawkfanatic @kenzieloulou17
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Simon is always warm, his body just naturally runs hotter than most others and it's always been an issue for him that he does his best to ignore. Until he can't anymore not after having a pretty thing like you share his need your freezing cold hands and get pressed to his larger body for warmth. It's the best sleep he's gotten in he can't remember how long all thanks to you having ice for hands and feet helping keep his body cool at night and he'll be damned if he goes back to sleeping alone and waking up covered in sweat
Price felt like a right prick for the next few days. You moped and hardly ate a thing. Your friends tried to make you feeling better but you just looked like a defleated balloon. Unlike other young dragons whoâd probably challenge him you just caved. You just looked miserable. But Price couldnât tell you were so angry as well. So fucking angry. Despite the crying and your down mood, in training you were brutal. You burned off the anger in training, hissing and blowing smoke whenever you spared with Soap who always joked that you might really hurt someone with that temper.
While you were sparing with a younger crocodile hybrid he realized you were going to hard. Your instincts pushing you to prove your strength. You gave a low growl, inhaling deeply with smoke curling from your nose and mouth when it clicked. You were going to blast fire. He had to yank you off a crocodile hybrid and clamped your jaws shut before you could burn them to the a crisp. The croc left as soon as they could and you fought till they out of sight. Price dragged you to the infirmary while you just slumped like dead weight.
He hoisted you into a seat and began looking for disinfectant. âWhat the hell was that solider?â Price looked at you and you stared at floor. Your aggressive and cold demeanor faded, replaced with a tired looking soul. Price sighed and began disinfecting your cuts âI know it hurts, all the hormones and being so close to springâŚâ Priceâs tone dropped lower to make you feel more comfortable. His eyes softened to be warmer as he made this attempt to hopefully have you move on and find a partner. âI know. Youâre young, your hormones are going crazy itâll be your first season yes?â You nodded looking up at him embarrassed. Price sighed âYeah I get it. But Ghost is mine poppet. Thereâs plenty of hybrids on base. Iâm sure any one of them would spend spring with you.â He was trying to be positive, but you still looked wilted.
You were extraordinarily loyal for. dragon who hadnât even gotten past the first stage. He questioned if you were even fully dragon. Dragons werenât this loyal for a non mate. Maybe part wolf or swan for whatever kind of shit was going on. âPoppetâŚwhat do love about Ghost?â Price asked the fated question. Sure itâd piss him off but he had to figure out how deep it went. You spilt your heart to him, you talked about Ghostâs build, his energy, his scent, his personalityâŚAs you spoke Price just kept feeling awful. You fell in love within two weeks, probably a mix of loneliness and hormones. Your wings did little excited flaps as you spoke about Ghost. Price snarled at you and you immediately lowered your head. âWhat about Soap or Gaz??? Or anyone else on base!? Ghost is my mate.â Price snapped at you causing you to shrink into yourself.
âI canât help itâŚHis scent makes me happyâŚand I canât help thinking heâd make my offspring strong and keep my nest safeââ Price listen the more his heart ached. Because you were right. Price had laid an infertile clutch last year and while he was exhausted and curled around his nest Ghost took care of him in earnest as well. He kept guard of the nest and brought Price food while he incubated. While they were no babies, Price realized this time maybe he truly wanted to try for little ones. Price growled at you and snapped âThereâs other dragons. Hell other hybrids. Youâll find someone just stop looking at my Simonâ Price hissed and left you alone crying. He immediately felt like shit. He couldnât help being agressive when it came to Ghost, it was in his blood, his instincts. Heâd have to ask Soap or Gaz to talk to you instead.
Whumpee has been working out in the field. They need to prepare the crops for an upcoming storm. Caretaker has to practically beg them to come inside and drink water at the end of the day. Despite their hesitation, Whumpee eventually follows Caretaker, upset with themselves for how little theyâd accomplished since their field was a main food supply.Â
Every bit of exposed skin is red with sunburn from the hot day. They swallow down the water theyâre offered with desperation they hadnât expected. Their muscles gave out as Caretaker guided them to a chair. The world was starting to spin. Their arms burned where Caretaker held onto them for support, keeping them from collapsing. A dull roar filled their ears as darkness crept around the edges of their vision. The last thing they saw was Caretakerâs lips moving frantically as they looked down on them with their brow furrowed deeply.
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CW: Torture, Canon-typical violence
Summary: Ghost wakes up. and we learn more about your past.
A/N: Part 4! Haven't written like, actual character interactions in a while but anyways here we are. I hope you enjoy because I wrote this instead of my 4 page essay that was due yesterday. Thanks to @haven247 for thier help with this chapter! Also please let me know of any spelling or continuity errors! 1.5k Words.
Part 1 Part 2 Part 3
"Lets move out." Elias shoulders his rifle, gesturing to the rest of the team to get a move on. You'd finally found the building you had spent the past week looking for, and gotten ahold of the intel you'd been tracking with relatively minor problems. Unfortunately, the exfil sight is a two day walk from here, and as the sun was already setting, it would probably be three more before you got back home.
You follow your captain, hoisting the bag of medical supplies you carry back onto your back. Riley trots along next to you, occasionally bumping your leg with his snout. You indulge him for moment, pausing to pet his matted fur. He'd get a nice warm bath once you got back to base. God that sounded nice. It's been weeks since you've been able to bathe, and even the toughest of soldiers would be feeling disgusting by now.
The air is humid, pressing in on you like a physical weight. Sweat drips into your eyes and down your back, making everything sticky and gross. Your skin itches where your clothes are compressed by your gear, and goggles are fogging up with every breath you exhale. Thankfully, you're almost back to camp.
"Russ, you have first watch." Keegan had escaped this op without any injuries, so he got to go keep an eye out while you patched everyone else up.
It takes about an hour, but you get everyone as patched up as you can with your limited supplies. No one was to terribly injuried, just a broken finger and some scratches that needed disinfecting and stitches.
"Good work kid." You look up from your supplies, making eye contact with your captain, "Get some food and get to sleep. We've got a long march ahead of us."
"Aye, sir." You head towards the fire in the center of camp, plopping down next to Hesh on the log. Riley is in front of his feet and you reach out, absentmindedly scratching behind his ears. Hesh holds out a can of...stuff...for you to eat. You're too hungry to care, and scarf the food down without even tasting it.
"Thanks."
"mhm."
"You ready to be home?" You ask. You know eveyone is tired and probably wants quiet, but you've never liked sitting in silence.
"You can say that again." Hesh sighs, "This jungle..."
"Disgusting." You agree. Before you can say more, Keegan comes to the fire, and Hesh leaves with a quick "goodnight" to go take his place.
"Night L/N." Keegan's voice reaches your ears as he pats your shoulder, heading off to his tent.
"Night." You stand, heading in the same direction to get to your own tent. You had the last watch, and tomorrow was going to be miles upon miles of marching, so you needed as much sleep as possible. You unroll your sleeping mat, then strip your gear off before laying down. It's too hot for anything to be covering you, really, and you'd tempted to go commando if you weren't on an op. Thankfully, your exhaustion outweighs your discomfort, and you drift off into a dreamless sleep almost as soon as you close your eyes.
"Kid, wake up. Your watch." Logan shakes you awake, waiting for you to get up before taking your place on the floor.
"Oi, my tent!." You protest, kicking his legs as you strap your gear back on.
"Yer not using in." He mumbles, "mm sleepin."
"Fine. But you're packing it." . You sigh in annoyance, rolling your eyes as you kick him again and head off into the night.
~back to le present~
"-government doesn't want them."
"What..."
"You...want them."
"-USA."
"- didn't look...useless, I'm...here?"
"Ghost won't...sure?"
"He's...you won't?"
"Just...about it...-stood?"
"Yes ma'am."
Ghost hates coming out of anesthesia. He gets nauseous, not that he'd ever tell anyone. His mind is fuzzy, his ears ring, his limbs are heavy. He cries too. Its an involuntarily response, but still. Embarrassing for a soldier. Makes him feel weak. He hates it. And he's come out of anesthesia more times the past few days then he ever has in his entire life.
"He's waking up." Laswell murmurs, "We'll discuss this later." Price nods, going to stand by Ghost's bed. He'd recognize that heavy breathing anywhere.
"You with us?"
Ghost nods numbly, his mind fuzzy with pain killers. God everything hurts, even with the high dose of morphine he's sure they have him on.
"Good. It's been a couple weeks since you've given us coherent response." Ghost tries to respond to that, but his tongue is heavy and his mouth won't cooperate. Price notices and shakes his head, "Don't worry about responding. You are on some pretty heavy meds. That group really messed you up. I'm amazed that little medic was able to keep you alive, honestly."
Ghost starts at that, his eyes narrowing at the thought of you, bent over him and patching him up.
"We've got them here, you know." Price continues, trying to gauge Ghosts reaction, "They're pretty beat up too, surprisingly." But Ghost isn't listening. All he feels is your hands digging in his side, can see your face as you refused to just let him die. The rage, and maybe a little fear, he feels at hearing you're not just on base, but receiving medical care and help from his team, disgusts him.
Is not fair, obviously. You never did anything to him. But trauma doesn't tend to be logical. You were all he ever saw, and though you may be helping him, you were what he associated with...everything.
"Why..th' fuck?" He finally gets out, his voice raspy and hoarse from a combination of things. Screaming, disuse, the breathing tube he was on.
"Things I can't tell ya right now, Simon." Price sighs and gently rests a hand on his shoulder, "All I can say now is that they weren't there willingly either. We do a lot of shady things, I'm sure you understand just doing what it takes to survive." Ghost practically snarls at that, jerking away from Prices hand.
All he succeeds in doing is making his body light up in pain. God he hasn't hurt this bad since he was digging his way out of an early grave. It feels like every nerve is screaming at him, white-hot pain lacing up his arms, his side, his leg.
"-ar me? Simon, can you hear me?" Price's voice finally breaks through the ringing in Ghost's ears, and he nods shakily, still gasping for breath. What was wrong with him?
"Good." Price shakes his head, "You're in no condition to be moving right now. The wound on your side perforated your organs, what's left of the muscles in your upper arms are so badly torn you had to have surgery to repair them, we had to rebreak your tibias and put rods in so they'd heal right, and you are severely malnourished. Among other things. They done made a mess of you, son."
The information wasn't surprising. In fact, he was surprised that that was the worst of it. He probably had you to thank for that, not that he'd ever admit it. He doesn't care about the injuries. It is what it is and it's not like he can change how hurt he got. No, his biggest worry is whether or not he can still be a soldier.
"You'll still be able to serve." Price reassures him, "You'll have a lot of physical therapy to do, and your mandatory therapy sessions, plus passing the psych eval, but after that you'll get added back to our team. Don't worry, Simon. I won't let you go." That last part comes out possessive, but Ghost doesn't care. He knows Price has an obsession with keeping his team, his team. But it feels nice to be wanted. Satiates some part of him still screaming for his fathers attention.
"Your next dose of painkiller is dispensing here in a moment. Try and get some sleep." Price pats his shoulder once and then heads for the door. Ghost almost voices a protest. Almost. He doesn't want to be alone, wants someone to help fend of the memories he's sure to relive. But he's not five. And Price isn't his dad. So he bites his lip and lets the drugs drag him into the darkness.
the full conversation from above:
"They're American. I got access to the files finally. Their names is Y/N, L/N. A medic in a special ops group referred to as GHOSTS. A lot of their file is missing, but I could see theyâve been marked KIA for years. I spoke with a representative from the US, but their government doesn't want them."
"What do you mean?â"
"You heard me. The United States government doesnât want them. It would be a scandal, the public finding out they didnât look hard enough for one of their soldiers."
"Sounds typical of the USA."
"They didn't look, and the soldier weâve got in our med bay right now is useless to them, and to us. But they saved one of oursâŚand Iâm not comfortable releasing them back into the wild. I fear they really would be KIA as soon as they left our sight. We owe them a debt. what do you think of keeping them on?â
"Ghost won't like that. Youâve seen how heâs reacted thus far. Are you sure this is the best course of action?"
"Heâs not gonna like it, or you donât?âÂ
âKate.âÂ
âJohn. Just think about it. Understood?â
âYes maâam.â
A/N: Part 4 is done. now to lock in for whumptober. I really hope writing for whumptober improves my writing, because I am rereading some of my older fics so I can work on new chapters and I feel like my writing has gone down hill. IDK if its cause school is sapping my juices or what, but i really hope i can get back up to my usually standard. I'm planning to take creative writing next semester, so hopefully that helps. anyways, love yall and thanks for reading!
tags(I'm sure there are people I missed, I'm sorry if i did): @smile6890 @cricricorner @unclearblur @redzluvvesage @just-a-harmless-potato-05 @vesna-the-spring @princess312 @norsehorseofcourse-blog @bonniperinktrance @soggywafflezz @littlebunie @sirbonesly @havoc973 @mommymilkers0526 @thegreyjoyed @pinkiliciousgunp0int @poopoobuttsy @darcellethedreamer @kamote-kuneho @z-wantstowrite @i-ate-ur-fries @fakeguysarehot @shitrandom @yunho-leeknow @idontreallyexistyet @smile6890 @thesehandsarerated-e @ciaratomioka1432
@berryjuiccy @yarn-mony @mill7531 @ink-spill04 @makimookie
I'm feeling angst do I had an idea. 141 and shifter!reader. I might write this dur8ng whumptober. You can shift into a Dogo Argentino ( a breed of dog commonly used for illegal dog fighting).
Life had not been kind to you. Your family died when you were young, and your grandmother had turned you out in the streets, still holding on to the superstitions that shifters were of the devil. You were picked up by traffickers and carted around the world, and when they discovered what you were, turned over to the Russian ultranationalists. There, you were forced to stay shifted as a dog. For years, you were thrown into rings and forced to fight.
Its been over a decade since you've been human for longer than a few hours. The only time you slip out of form is when you're sleeping. Your poor little body is riddled with scars, ears torn, and tail cut off. You're lying in your cell, head on your paws, when gunshots start going off. You yelp as your door slams open, jumping up and cowering in the corner.
"Ah, its juist a dog." A man with a mowhawk crouches down, sticking his hand out, "Awright there pup?" He coos at you. You limp forward, sniffing his hand hesitantly. He sits patiently, letting you sniff and lick before petting your head. "Poor girl. Ye'r comin' wit' me."
You follow him onto a helicopter, hiding under the seat behind his legs.
"Fuckin' hell Johnny, ah dog?"
"Ay, look ait 'er! Isnae she cute?" They say other things, but you can't hear them over the roear of the blades and your exhaustion. Without thinking, you let your eyes slip shut, and you falls asleep.