once he was able to settle into the role of captain and take less orders than he gives, it spiraled a little out of control and into his personal life. his wife turned into another thing to control and boss around. so she left him before they could have any kids. before she was tied to him forever.
he wasn't that heartbroken, just a little annoyed he didn't have anyone to get his cock wet whenever he wanted. finding birds at bars wasn't hard for him, he just couldn't be bothered.
that's when he finds you aimlessly wandering around the base with a big sticker on your sweater that read "CIVILIAN". he asks if you need assistance, you blink up at him and ask him where Kate Laswell is and the lilt in your voice goes straight to his groin. he just smiles and guides you across the hall to where Kate's office is. you'd been a few feet away from the damn nameplate on the wall and still couldn't find it. so pretty and so dumb, his favorite combination.
now...it's his job to help, but it's not his job to stare at your ass as you walk away. but every curve on you was so enticing, he really couldn't help himself. so he waits like a patient predator for you to leave, catching you on the way out and asking if you'd like him to walk you to the entrance so you don't get lost. you just smile up at him and nod.
kate tried to chastise him for dating you, she really did her best to prevent your demise. you were too young, too soft, too innocent for a man like him. the rest of the team held the same thoughts, but would never voice them. everyone was so damn concerned about you and your wellbeing. and you never understood why.
sure, he asked you to move in after 3 months. but he was right! it made more sense since he wasn't home all the time, if you lived with him it made seeing him a lot easier. and yes he proposed only 2 months after you moved in, everyone in your life (and his) telling you it was way too soon and that you didn't really know him yet. but when you know, you know! sometimes the pitiful stares really confused you, the way Kyle and Johnny smiled weakly at you when you visited John on base, belly already round with child #1 only a few months after he slid that diamond on your finger.
it was as if everyone thought you were some trapped animal. snatched from your home in the rainforest and dropped into a cramped cage in the middle of a busy metropolitan city zoo, destined to live out the rest of your pathetic life cooped up there.
but no one understood that you were exactly where you wanted to be. so what if John had a preference over what clothes you wore and food you ate? those types of decisions were boring and quite frankly it was nice to have someone do it for you. yes he made you quit your job so he could "provide for you", but you hated that dead end office anyway. he expected a lot of sex, but he fucked you so good and full it was almost impossible to say no.
so you let everyone think John was in charge. especially John. he really thought he had it made, a pretty little wife that asked how high when he said jump. one that always had tea on the table and a whiskey ready for him when the kids finally went to bed. one that dutifully opened her legs and her mouth whenever he said the word.
but you ran that house with an iron fist. albeit a manicured one.
squeaky cupboard door? he better fix it, no matter how long his day was. favorite heels wearing thin? he better buy you three new pairs in different colors. he wanted to act like a big strong man? he could take the trash out, fix your car, tend the garden, build you furniture, and entertain the kids while you have a nice long soak in the bath.
you let him fuck you six ways to Sunday almost nightly, desecrate and violate you in ways you would never suggest on your own, and get you pregnant mere months after you've pushed out another one of his kids. so damn right you're getting a foot massage even though he's the one who's been on his feet all day.
so yes, you let John (and everyone else) think that he's in control. that you're some sweet little housewife that John caught in his web. too dumb for your own good.
but it takes John three tries to get the kids to quiet down.
it only takes one look from you to get them in line.
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You don’t know what you did to make your pack hate you.
But they do hate you, of that, you’re certain. It’s been weeks of avoidance, of glaring when they see you, of “accidentally” hitting you too hard during spars. Ghost and Gaz seem to hate you the most, but you can’t be sure, because you’ve barely even seen Soap in weeks, and whenever you do, he refuses to make eye contact with you, his tail tucked between his legs. Price is slightly less antagonistic, but there is no more warmth in his interactions with you, all of them coldly professional.
It’s tearing you up inside.
You’re considering putting in for a transfer when the news comes—you’re being loaned out to the Americans for a mission that will take several weeks, maybe months. No one else from the 141 will be coming with you.
You hold off on your transfer request, as a favor to Laswell, who apparently personally recommended you. You know it likely won’t be accepted until after the mission is finished, anyway.
You’re up and on the tarmac at 05:00. None of your pack comes to say goodbye.
As the helo lifts off, you feel the bonds you’d formed with each and every one of them—once so strong and a great source of comfort—break, unable to hold up under the strain of rejection any longer. It’s agony, but it’s freedom, too, in a way.
Johnny wakes up with a pained gasp, clawing at his chest as he shoots up in bed. Beside him, Simon sits up sharply as well, reaching for the gun under his pillow before realizing the room is empty.
“Just a nightmare,” he soothes his sergeant, heart breaking at the horrible whines coming from him. He pulls Johnny close, kissing the crown of his head. “S’olright, Soap. Go back ta sleep.”
And Soap does, the ache in his chest slowly fading, but never quite disappearing entirely. He wonders what he was dreaming of, to have such an intense reaction…
As per usual, just an idea, and writers can take it and run with it. Just let me know where to read your work.
Gaz has a secret. His soft human.
It started as a selective project a way to gauge the general public's current opinion of hybrids. He edited a few pictures so his wings were not visible and made a fake profile.
Out of the 141 Gaz trusts humans the least. He was not thousands of years old like Price. He was never human like Ghost once was. He can not smell emotions like Soap can. He was born this way and forced to face the harsh reality. So, no, he does not trust humans, but he trusts when his flock says someone is worth it.
But then they messaged him. It was about his sweater. They said it was the prettiest blue and they wanted to know where to buy it. He couldn't help himself; he researched them. They were soft in all the ways he could never be. He found himself having deep conversations with them, then video calls where he carefully hid his wings.
They were so sweet and soft. Always in a sweater of some kind, always a size or two big. "like a hug." They were kind. They loved scents. Always had some candle going in the background of their calls. He was addicted to their softness.
Yet he was terrified. They were from a region that was hostile to hybrids. He was always so careful to avoid chirps or any indication he was anything other than human. Then they slipped up one day, and an excited squeak came out. It sounded far too much like a chirp. they covered their mouth and apologized.
Gaz nearly had a heart attack as they started bawling, begging him to stay friends. That they know they are weird. That they normally have better control. Please don't leave. He thanks his training for the ability to calm them down from what is clearly a panic attack. He reassures them that the noise did not bother him about thousand times before he can ask why they made the noise.
They explain through tears that their brain processes information differently. That they did not get along with other kids growing up. They watched a lot of nature documentaries as a child, and some of the sounds got absorbed into their form of communication. That people find it weird, and they have always struggled to make friends.
Gaz just adores their chirps. Even does some back. Of course, the reader thinks this is to be friendly to them, not realizing that Gaz has essentially decided they are flock. He still hides his hybrid status. Gaz sneaks away to make his video call at least once weekly. Gaz starts sending them little trinkets and sweaters and blankets and plushies. They send trinkets back and sweaters. They are essentially courting each other, and Gaz has yet to tell them the truth. They are just excited to finally have a friend. Gaz has to focus really hard to make sure his wings do not fluff into frame when they make happy sounds at opening what he sends them. He had to pretend his camera was acting up the first time he saw them stemming with their sleeves, it looked too much like fluffing wings. Then he found out they nest in the blankets and plushies he sent.
This was all fine and dandy until Gaz did not call for two weeks. Sure, he had gone longer without calling, but he would always give a heads-up or text. Now he was completely radio silent. They feared they had upset their dearest friend in some way, but they knew Gaz was some type of military and could not shake this odd feeling.
So you may have hidden some things from Gaz. Like the fact that you study magic, or like the fact that you are incredibly good at investigating things. You started with the return address from the package he last sent you.
You are not 100% sure how you even got there, but you are in an interrogation room in homemade gear with Laswell across from you, with you only repeating, "I will not stop until I have my person back."
What had actually happened was that you were caught sneaking into a base and hissed at a general who called Laswell, assuming you were a hybrid.
Simply put, the gear you made is laced with magic and sigils but is also loose-fitting and designed to obscure your identity. You are wearing a collar with a tag (extra strong sigil on the tag) and what looks like a muzzle with a voice changer in it and a hood that is literally held in place with hairpins. Unfortunately, this also looks a lot like control gear. Laswell knows from experience that removing gear from a hybrid is not a wise decision if said hybrid is comfortable in it.
The mission that Gaz was on was a collaboration with a human team. Laswell is under the impression that you are a hybrid that believes you are owned by one of those humans. Which means several things. One, she is probably going to have to take one of them into custody. It is some relief to her that you do not refer to them as owner. At minimum, you will help her get her boys home if it means bringing your person home. Laswell also knows from experience that breaking an ownership mindset will have to start with finding said owner. So she agrees to help you get your person back.
You joined a team breaking into where a lead, said they were being held. It was a dead end, but Laswell was certain that the person captured knew where the 141 was taken. The problem he was not talking. You growled in frustration, sounding enough like a wolf that the hybrids near you backed up. "I can make him talk." It was a risk you knew that. Your body was already weak from using so much magic on that mission.
Laswell let you in the room with him, and you sat in the chair across from him as he spat insults about hybrids at you. You calmly took off your goggles, laying them on the table and looked him in the eyes.
From Laswell's perspective, it seemed like the cameras were malfunctioning, the visuals distorting, and the room looking darker and more shadowy. Then the feed was completely cut when you looked him in the eye, "I am-" sounds like death came through the speaker, and she rushed to the door to the interrogation room, trying to get to you. The door would not budge. You had set up wards, making sure there would be no interruptions, and your magic entered his mind. You did no damage, but you made it clear what you could do, then stood as he begged to tell where they were. You opened the door and collapsed into Laswell's arms.
You were placed in the med bay. Exhaustion. Laswell cursed herself for not noticing sooner just how much you had been pushing yourself. You were not like her boys. You did not have the training.
The rescue happened while you were asleep, but the moment you were up, you were waiting outside on their return, pacing so much that Laswell feared you would faint again. So she made you sit in a folding chair and drink some juice and nibble on crackers.
Gaz was the last to step out of the vehicle, and to say everyone was confused was an understatement. One second, you were standing beside Laswell, the next, you were in Kyle's arms, mask muzzle on the ground as you chirped and whined at him, smelling like that place. You rubbed up against him, scent-marking him, trying to fix it as you checked out his injuries. Then, you saw his injured wing, and a legitimate pained whine came out before magic quickly formed in your hand as you cast a spell to speed up his healing and ease the pain. Downside: you were effectively exhausted again. Now barely conscious and just snuggling in Gaz as he holds you up.
His soft human is in his arms. It feels so right, but everything is wrong. They should not be here. They should never be here. His arms are around them, and his wings create a protective shield. They smell like the med bay. He barely contains his rage, "What did they do to you?" His human blinks sleepily at him, just clinging harder like they do not understand. He suspects they are too out of it to comprehend anything anymore. Gaz scoops them up and carries them to the nest, refusing to let anyone, even his own flock, near until he is sure his mate is okay.
Laswell is confused and talks to Price about the new hybrid. They come to the conclusion that it must be a mating thing. Some hybrids use possessive terms for mates. Price is definitely not happy that Kyle hid the fact that he had a mate, but then again, in their line of work, one can never be too careful. Price is, however, very relieved that Gaz brought you to the pack nest even if he will not allow anyone else near. That at least means he wants you to smell like the pack, not just himself. They take turns leaving snacks and such at the edge of the nest for them.
When you finally come to, Gaz is asleep, wing draped over you like a blanket, and you feel too warm, too much. You crawl out from the nest only to be met with Ghost, who is internally panicking because he was just dropping off snacks. What if he scares you? Kyle will kill him. Only you are too busy shedding your gear, feeling nauseous to really care about the hulking figure at first.
Overstimulated and feeling sick, you manage a few words, somehow conveying the problem to Ghost. Ghost barely processes that he is definitely looking at a human before he quickly gets you a cold water and a wet rag. Soap sees Ghost sprinting to and from the kitchen and alerts Price.
So now the entire team is awkwardly standing far enough away that if Gaz wakes up, they won't anger the mating instincts while they try and fail to understand what happened. Soap snaps out of it first, offering to show you where the restrooms are so you can take a cold shower and hopefully fight off the nausea. Price fears Gaz will try to kill Soap after, since this would effectively remove all the scent from you, and points out as such. Ghost retrieves Gaz's bodywash and shampoo while Soap gets you one of Gaz's t-shirts.
Gaz wakes up horrified that you are not in his arms but calms and seems is delighted that his soft human mate is being doted on by his pack, eating ice cream in his clothes. This is also the first time he has ever seen his soft human in a t-shirt, and he can not suppress what his wings do in response.
Like this? Check out the versions for Ghost and Soaps online besties.
Price is going to have a turn too, lol.
@lostintransist, I don't figure this is your normal style, but i thought you might like the angst potential.
141 finds that their secretary  is incredibly tense around a soldier because of his yelling.
This is just me dumping a little- I'm sorry in advance. And hope it makes sense lol.
Warning: Angsty-ish Mention of angru house hold (Yellers)
They notice, they're not dumb. They are trained operators. They read body language to a T. Hell, they know how to control their breathing to become silent. So, of course, they notice your change in nature. The random tense movements you'd have. How your head would duck down like you were trying to shrink in. Or how you almost became compliant to everything told to you, running around like a puppy to get anything and everything for someone. Why? Because someone, specifically regarding one soldier, becomes tense. Tense, voice edge, angry, annoyed. The kind of tone that someone gets when they're a moment away from yelling if asked one more question. The boys weren't fond of the soldier to begin with; he struggled far too much to keep his temper. He could be a liability on the field.
Johnny is the first to notice, lingering near your desk with obvious flirtation, curious about the new civilian secretary—polished, composed, you. Price, likely tired of endless paperwork: the budget, accounting, hygiene shipments. All tedious but necessary evils to deal with. That's where you come in.
And Johnny watched as you swallowed thickly and seemed to become almost glazed over. Your breathing becoming slow but shallow. Odd. And then he noticed it more and more.
“‘Did ye see the bonnie Price hired?’
“Johnny-”
“Poor thing, jumps out of her skin.”
“She looking at you too long, McTavish?”
“ ‘m no Munter (ugly guy) L.T, at’s yew … Some’ins wrong with the lass tho.”
Then Ghost noticed it. To your slight cringe, he begins to hang around with Jonny. Sometimes, occupying your walks to Price’s office. Giving small grunts and hums to the nervous things you’d say.
“Ya’ll are off again soon… I heard Australia this time?”
“Hm”
“I'll place an order for camel packs… I don't think many (Soldiers) can find theirs…” Your voice trailed off; it was a note to yourself. Ghost eyes glanced down at you, watching as your brows knitted together to think of possible supplies the teams would need for their training in The Down Under. It was your job, yes; however, he was pleasantly surprised to hear a civilian use more military terms. Guess you weren't too bad.
Then he noticed the small flinch from the yell. How your eyes locked on the soldier. You were fully tensed when he (the soldier) got closer, as if you were ready to spew apologies.
John and Gaz now know.
“He sounds like my dad,” You once told Gaz, laughing it off.
Ah. So your dad was a yeller. And by the way you stare at the wall in front of your desk, Gaz would guess he’s made a few holes before, too.
Slowly, you found your station closer to John's office, farther from the areas that soldiers would be in. One of the boys would almost always tag along with you when you left the area, mostly Johnny or Gaz, with the excuse to go on a walk.
The boys didn't like the soldier regardless,and now they had another reason.
“One of the soldiers' lack of emotional regulation makes me feel unsafe to leave a civilian in that area. So we moved her"
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outlaw!ghost x afab!reader | series masterlist | wild west
summary: in a desperate, last ditch-attempt to escape your abusive husband's wrath, you encounter the man you've only heard legends of - a man named ghost.
cw: use of guns/weapons. depictions of violence, gore, death, domestic abuse. mentions of sexual assault, abuse. explicit sexual content, smut. mdni, 18+
CW: afab reader but no specification, pre established relationship, Illusion to sex, slightly controlling behaviour (gaz)
Simon RIley:
When you tell him he just stares at you for a few seconds before going “....right.” then immediately handing you the tea he was literally just drinking and disappearing into the kitchen. He does a little boomerang getting you comfort items and bringing them to the couch, he doesn’t need to and you don’t have to ask but he just gets it for you happily. You play with the little skull decal on the mug as he looks down at you, just silently watching over you and waiting.
“Simon, I'm fine…it’s not contagious.” you laugh as he just nods in response and keeps his eyes locked on you. “Simon, seriously, relax.” he eventually eases onto the couch next to you just staring.
“Sorry uh…don’t like you bein’....uncomfortable…”
“Well the staring isn’t helping.”
“Just…i want to help.” he nearly grunted slowly moving closer to you on the couch “i don’t know how”
“Just sit with me, Simon.” He spends the next hour slowly scooching closer and closer before he wraps himself around your hand, has his big hand on your stomach and just whispers.
“Am I helping…?” His breath caresses the shell of your ear and as you, not a small content little hum escapes him, a sound that makes your eyes widen because you didn’t think a man like him could even make it. “Good.” he nuzzles deep into your neck.
Johnny Mactavish:
The words “I’m on my period” exit your mouth and he does not even bat an eye, he is not bothered whatsoever. He has sisters, 3, a period means fuck all to him except if you have a particularly bad one to make a pillow fort refuge on the couch incase he does something wrong. But when you cry over stubbing your toe on the counter his hands wrap around the back of your head as he shoves it into his chest, holding you tight and shushing you.
“Ye'r braw, a hurt toe isnae gonnae murdurr ye love,” he kisses along your hairline and slowly guides you to bed letting you cry your heart out.
“But it hurts johnny-” you sniffled as he puts your heating pad on your stomach and turns on the tv, putting on your favorite show.
“A'm sure it does darlin'” he turned off the big lights and put on the lamp on your nightstand before slowly easing into bed with you and manhandling you into his arms with a contented smile. You whine in protest as he constantly feeds you water but he immediately quiets you down with headrubs, massaging and scratching your scalp. “Dinnae fight it sweets...trying tae mak' yer feelin' better alright?” When you nod he smiles and lets you fall asleep snuggled up against his body warmth.
Kyle Garrick:
“I know”
“What the fuck do you mean you know?” you huff after coming out of your bathroom, having told Kyle you were on your period, he doesn’t even look up from his phone.
His eyes flicker up“I have your period tracker on my phone” he shows his phone and it was accurate.
“That's weird- you're weird, Garrick!” you huff as you go to walk away and storm off to your den of solitude in your room but he’s hot on your tail.
“Darling, I just want to look after you…let me?” He holds you by the waist and slowly turns you before leaning down and placing a slow and gentle kiss on your lips. “I’ll delete it if you want…” he nudges at your nose with his own. “I have it mostly for…nefarious purposes” you slap his arm at that but you can’t help but crack a small smile. His whiskey brown eyes gazing down into your own with a kind of love that couldn’t quite be put into words.
“No it’s fine…” you smile, you couldn’t stay mad at him. No, literally you don’t think it’s physically possible for you to stay mad at him when he looks at you like that, with those puppy dog eyes.
“Is that why you bought me a new hot water bottle?”
He pecks your lips “mhm..” he chases your lips as you keep speaking.
“And the bathbombs….” he kept trying to kiss you, holding you gently on either side of the neck, his eyes hooded yet focussed on your lips. “Mhm~” he plants another one on you, his breathing getting a little faster.
“Is that why you bought me a family pack of chocolates?” he smiled and slowly moved the hair away from your face.
“I thought we could share them”
“Oh you’re funny garrick” you grin as you break away and grab the chocolates from the counter before planting yourself in a blanket cocoon.
John price:
He also really isn't all that bothered when you break the news, nor does he mind when you wake him up in the middle of the night to tell him you leaked on the white bed sheets. This bear of a man lifts your bridal style to the bathroom and sits you on the edge of the bath. He retrieves a clean pair of underwear and sleep shorts for you, still seemingly mostly asleep as he mechanically pulls the sheets off the bed and puts them in the wash immediately, switching it on. He knocks on the bathroom toilet.
“Alright love?” he hummed his voice about two octaves lower than normal, you can't see but his forehead is pressed against the door, almost falling asleep right then and there, shirtless pressed against the door of the ensuite.
“Mhm…”you waddle out and press into him, he’s still warm as hell, he always runs warm but he was like a personal heater just for you. “Feel like shit…” you grumble as his coarse chest hair rubs up against your cheek. He sleepily just kisses the intersection of your eye brows blindly trailing kisses down your face hoping to maybe get one somewhere close to your lips.
“Lets go back to bed, silly.” he lifts you by the back of the thighs back into bed and just smushes you into the bed and when you tell him about it the next morning he doesn't even remember a single thing. He was barely awake anyhow.
