ScaredCyclops
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LochAndLoaded — Read your profile and I think you might be exactly what I’m looking for. Never done this before, have no idea what I’m doing. I’m used to being in control, but I think I’d like to see what it’s like to give it up.
John’s stomach flips as he reads it over, fingers tightening around the phone, breath hitching tightly in his chest. He doesn’t regret what he said, because it’s true. He does want to know what it would be like. And yet, he can’t help how raw it makes him feel, how exposed. Like something has been peeled open inside of him, and John is helpless to stop it.
He doesn’t even know when these thoughts started, only that he’s been thinking them for a while. This wanting turning into a need, sharp and relentless, plaguing John’s every waking thoughts. He knows he could go to the bar, knows he could find a pretty lad or lass and settle the ache in his belly.
But that ache always comes back.
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Soap’s been running his ranch on his own just fine up until now. Uses the occasional ranch hand when needs must but mostly just puts in the work so he doesn’t have to bother with them. Except now the most beautiful beta he’s ever seen has waltzed into his life and asked for a job, and God help him Soap’s given him one.
Ghost needs somewhere to lie low for a while, somewhere out of town where it’s unlikely anyone will recognise him from the wanted posters springing up all over town. Just his luck that the ranch owner is the kind of alpha dreams are made of, especially when he really can’t afford to be getting tangled up with anyone.
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Noah and the Anglerfish by HigherMagic for Niceven (Nicevensilace)
Fandoms: Call of Duty (Video Games)
13 Jan 2025
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“Steamin’ bloody Jesus,” Soap breathes. “How often does he do this?”
Gaz turns, then, and meets his eye. “Us, and Price… We’re the only ones who’d live to talk about it,” he says. “It’s a last resort.” He reaches out, then, and puts his hand on Soap’s arm. “Being his handler means being the one to call the shots, Soap. We’re the only bloody things he cares about. Everything else is fodder. If you ever have to make this call, you better be damn sure you don’t care about survivors, because there won’t be any.”
Price had been so eager to give the order. Imagine holding the nuke in your hands, knowing that you’ll be the only thing to survive its detonation. Imagine being Noah, but with the power to call the Flood whenever he wished.
Soap shivers, something not altogether kind or good curling around his brainstem at the notion.
Whether Gaz clocks it or not, he can’t say, but he eventually murmurs, “You’ll need a psych eval after this. We all get one after Ghost smokes out. Even him.”
Soap frowns. “Why?”
Gaz shrugs. “You’ll have to ask him. Personally, I think we all like it a bit too much.”
Soap blushes, and doesn’t have the words for why.
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Soap is having a perfectly pleasant holiday at his grandparent’s cottage, up until he runs headfirst into a mythical sea creature seemingly hellbent on luring him to a watery grave.
He thinks being deployed will save him from their monstrous clutches.
He never could've guessed just how wrong he was.
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Simon the Siren imprints on Soap, and it all goes downhill from there. -
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“Don’t fall for a man, bairn. They’ll steal your pelt and your soul.”
On the storm-bitten coast of Eilead, Scotland, a selkie watches a man who does not belong to the sea and Soap can’t help but be drawn to him. Ghost walks the cliffs like he carries the weight of a life he never chose. And Soap, wild and salt-born, should know better.