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peachesofteal · 5 months

Note

pls let Simon hold that baby 🥺

Light on - single mom/neighbor fic Simon Riley/female reader 18+ mdni / mild suggestive content, mention of spanking - could be considered mildly dark and twisty

"Oh, you came!"

What? Yes, he came. You invited him, didn't you? Wasn't that... did he get this wrong? "Er, yeah... I thought you said-"

"I did, I did. Come in." You step to the side, allowing him entry into the hallway where the smell of something incredible lingers, pulling at the pockets of his cheeks. You can cook. Judging by the scent of roast chicken and herbs that fill the room, he knows immediately that you're better than the 'subpar' dinner you mentioned yesterday. "You just ah, seemed unsure. I didn't want to assume." His hand pats his pocket instinctively, seeking the mask, trying to fight the urge to pull it over his face, pleasantly surprised you don't seem off put by his face, or the fact that it's the first time you've seen him without it.

"I had some things going on today, wasn't sure about my schedule until a few hours ago." Lie. It's a lie, a bold faced one. He knew he'd be here from the moment you had rushed out the invite, offering to cook him dinner as he dwarfed you inside your cozy apartment, dead smoke detector batteries in his hand.

"Well, thank you for coming. And thanks for all your help yesterday. I couldn't figure that stupid thing out to save my life." You laugh, teeth exposed, easy and carefree. A shiver ricochets down his spine. Why you let him inside your flat the first time, he'll never understand. Maybe one day, he'll reprimand you for it. Chide you for letting a stranger inside your home, remind you to be more cautious. He would explain why you need to more careful, more observant of your surroundings, as his thumb rubbed away the fat tears falling over your cheeks, the result of him taking his palm to your ass a dozen times for the slip up. Can't be makin' mistakes like that, love. Not with it just being you and the baby when I'm not here- he'd tell you, make you promise not to do it again, soothing your tears with cool cream against your skin and gentle, but firm, reassurance.

You just need someone to take care of you, that's all. Teach you.

Emmaline makes a noise, a half babble, half cry, and it breaks him from his reckless daydream, bringing him back to reality in a matter of seconds. What is he thinking? You're his neighbor. He doesn't even know you.

"Thanks for inviting me." You're bent at the waist, hands pulling a roasting rack from the oven, perfectly cooked bird sitting on a bed of potatoes and carrots, and his stomach rumbles almost loud enough for you to hear.

"I owe you. That beeping would've kept little miss here up for hours." You jerk your head in Emmaline's direction, where she's fixated on you, mouth hanging half open. "Needs a few more minutes." You mumble to yourself, and then turn around again. "Do you want a drink? I've got some lagers, and a bottle of wine somewhere." Your fingers knot together, words on the tip of your tongue hopeful, almost... nervous, and you give him another smile, albeit this one is less confident.

"A lager would be good." He tries to settle you by being agreeable, and you produce two from the fridge, your fingers brushing against his when you hand one to him, skin warm and so, so soft, the kind of soft he's rarely felt, the kind that feels like silk against sandpaper. Yours against his.

"So, you said you travel for-" Your question is interrupted by a shriek, a demanding cry from Emmaline, her little fists waving in the air at you, like she's indignant about the redirection of your attention. You pick her up, yellow jumper bright against your red apron, and you shoot him an apologetic grimace. "I'm sorry, I was hoping she'd be down by now but, she's just been so fussy lately." You bounce her back and forth, cries quieting until she's just blinking at you with wet eyes, and the timer on the oven goes off. "Shit. Ah..." You look at her, and then look at the oven. "Can you, would you mind?" You extend your arms, Emma inside them, and he puts every piece of his training to use trying to control his reaction.

His heart soars.

His brain panics.

"Yeah, okay." He says, and you dip forward, pushing her into his arms. He knows how to hold a baby, held Joseph plenty, and she seems to agree, settling in against his chest, hands grabbing at his sweatshirt, tugging and trying to eat the fabric. She's light, lighter than he expected, but still sturdy, and when her lips shift into a gummy smile as she makes eye contact with him, he feels everything logical inside him shutting down.

Beautiful baby girl, and her perfect, sweet, angel of a mum.

He'll be keeping you.

He'll be keeping you both.

#peaches writes #light on #simon ghost riley #simon riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #peaches asks #female reader

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peachesofteal · 5 months

Note

you satisfy the urge to see Ghost with little babies and simultaneously make me want more of him with little babies

Light on - single mom/neighbor fic Simon Riley/female reader

He sleeps like the dead on and off for the almost three days.

Uninterrupted, undisturbed, face buried in a pillow, television cranked as loud as he can get away with, the noise one of the only things capable of lulling him to sleep and keeping him under when he’s not on an op or in an active engagement zone. He gets up to eat, use the bathroom or shower, climb the four floors to the roof to smoke, but otherwise, he sleeps. He eats, and sleeps, and repeats this very simple routine, as he always does when he’s here, until it’s interrupted one night, by the tap of a hesitant knock on his door.

The sound freezes his blood, every nerve ending in his body lighting up in alert, muscles priming for an offensive position. He finds the one of many guns stashed in the flat on his way to open the door, mask slipping over his face, holding the weapon tucked carefully behind his body as he looks through the peephole to find… you. The girl from the roof, the baby, Emmaline, in your arms, your eyes nervously darting down the hallway before looking back to his door expectantly. Shit.

“I’m sorry.” You rush out immediately when he opens it, peering up at him with exhausted eyes. Emma is against your chest, and one of your hands cradles her head, the other under her bum, while you bounce her up and down while also rocking back and forth. “I don’t mean to be a pain in the arse but, is there any way I can ask you to turn your TV volume down a bit?” You try to smile but it straightens into a grimace and then your eyes dart to the ground before looking back up at him. “We uh, share a wall.” You tilt your head to the left, to the unit next to his and his eyes widen. “I’m so sorry. I don’t mean to bother you, I’m not trying to be that neighbor but-“ Jesus Christ. You share a wall with him? His mind drifts to an image of you asleep in your bed, tucked up under your covers all sweet, lashes laying delicately on your cheeks.

“Of course. It’s not a bother.” The baby cries in response, a broken wail making her lower lip tremble and you pat her back soothingly until she quiets, little hiccups coming from her mouth while she rubs her face into your shirt.

“Thank you.” You’re still bouncing, still swaying, and he’s mystified, watching you stroke a gentle finger through her fine curls. She yawns sleepily against you, and the tension leaks from your body a bit, spine slumping slightly, shoulders relaxing a notch. You look down at her, checking for something he doesn’t understand, before raising your radiant, tired face back up to his. He really, really wishes he wasn’t holding a handgun behind his back right now. “They told me, when I rented… that you weren’t around much. I thought it’d be a good fit since…” you gesture with an eyebrow towards Emmaline, and he nods.

“I travel for work.” His voice sounds more raspy than normal, a byproduct of too much sleep, something you look like you’d probably kill to have. Fuck. He’s been blasting his television while you’ve been up with a screaming baby for two bleedin’ days.

“Right, well I hope we won’t be too noisy for you, when you are home.” A door slams on third floor above the two of you, the bang of it swinging shut too loud and you tense, something bleak flickering across your face before it’s chased away with a half-forced smile. “Anyway… thanks, again.”

“Of course.” He repeats it, like it’s obvious, and then just as you turn away, he remembers something: “I’m Simon.” You glance back at him, timid smile tugging at your lips, your own name falling from your mouth like you’re giving him a gift.

“Oh, and you know Emmaline already.” You lightly tease, and he nods, his own lips lifting in an almost smile behind the mask in response.

#peaches asks #peaches writes #simon riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #light on

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peachesofteal · 5 months

Note

Can we please please please get some more Simon x single mother au? Possibly him helping in the garden/ keeping emmaline out of trouble while Mom works in the garden

Light on - single mom/neighbor fic Simon Riley/female reader 18+ mdni / mild sexual content

“Ow! fuck!”

Your hand jerks, drawing back to your mouth with a hiss.

“What is it?” He forces himself still, staring daggers at where the tip of your finger has started to leak blood, a thick drop dripping down the side before you bring it to your mouth, lush lips wrapping around your injury. “Are you alright?” His tone is tightly controlled, even keeled, nonchalant, but on the inside, worry gnaws away at his stomach, chewing through the organ until it’s spilling free and running rampant through his body.

“There’s a piece of glass in here.” In the garden bed? “Some of the other tenants, hang around up here at night. They usually leave bottles or cans behind.” The worry turns to anger, a simple plan slowly taking shape in his mind, a strategy to find the rooftop partiers, and ensure they never leave glass in your garden again.

Emmaline cries, nose and brows wrinkled in irritation, and you turn to coo at her, finger still half in your mouth.

“It’s okay, little pea. Just give me a second.” She continues to fuss, and you sigh, wilting like one of your own little flowers, left too long in the sun without water. You blink, and it’s like you’ve shed your sunlit skin for an exhausted shell. Oh, sweetheart. I know it’s hard, but you don’t have to do it on your own anymore.

I’m here now.

“Can I?” He asks softly, warming at how your face lights with relief.

“Yes, please.” You point to the bottle that’s tucked in the side of the backpack, and he unbuckles her from the bouncer that you lugged up the four flights of stairs earlier, even though he had texted you an hour before and politely suggested you wait for him to be finished his phone call, so he could help you.

You went up anyway, much to his displeasure. Displeasure, that he had to swallow, permanently.

You’re not his. Not yet. He can’t be disappointed by resistance or refusal when you don’t even know all the ways he can be there for you yet. He knows you’ll learn. You’re a smart girl. His smart girl.

Emmaline lays nestled in the crook of his elbow, slightly elevated on her back, and he pops the cap of the bottle easily, rubbing his index finger against her cheek to trigger the reflex that will open her mouth. When it does, he keeps it at the right angle to ensure the formula doesn’t flow too fast into her belly.

“You’ve done this before.” You murmur, reaching into the backpack for a band aid. You’re studying him, tracing over his face, his hands that are nearly the size of your baby, and he can feel the scrutiny, the curious intensity of your gaze.

“Had a nephew. I was around a lot, when he was this age.” He had a brother too. And a mother. A sister-in-law. A family.

Emmaline gurgles around the nipple, and he slips it free, sitting her mostly upright, giving her a gentle pat on the back amid her protestations, little grunts that he’s sure she means as ‘feed me’ and ‘more’. He waits for you to ask him the dreaded questions, the focus on the word had, the inevitable conversation about loss and family and pain, guilt and grief that can make a man feel like he’s been buried alive.

You don’t.

Instead, you simply say,

“Emmaline had a dad once, too.”

It’s nearly 2100 when you knock on his door later, baby monitor in one hand, two amber colored bottles in another.

“Hey. You busy?” His heart does a double tap inside his chest. Bad timing, the worst. Your sweet mouth is slightly open, hopeful, teeth parted just barely to reveal a flash of tongue, and his jaw clenches against the wild need that catapults through his veins to his cock. What do you taste like? What do you feel like? You motion to the monitor. “Just went down. Figure I have about an hour before I pass out myself and could use some adult time.” Shit. The duffel bag next to the door practically speaks for him, irritatingly reminding him he has a plane to catch in less than two hours.

“I can’t, I’m about to head out.” Your brow furrows, confusion churning into understanding within a moment, disappointment flickering across your expression before it smooths out.

“Right. Okay.”

“I want to.” He hurries the words. “But I travel… for work and I have to be on a flight in a few hours.” You’re already half turning away, slinking off to your apartment, giving him a soft agreement as you go.

“Sure, yeah.”

“Wait, sweetheart,” You startle at the pet name, eyes going wide at the inferred affection. “when I get back, let’s… have a drink.” You nod, and he smiles a real smile, barely tugging his lips upward, probably hardly visible to you. The kind of smile he’s been wearing around you these past two weeks, the kind of smile he tries to give Emmaline when she stares at him.

“Alright, sounds good then.” Your key finds your lock, and he steps out into the hallway, trapping your gaze with his own.

“You girls be good.” He says, a parting instruction, and a bashful, bewildered smile of your own curves across your mouth.

“We will.”

#light on #peaches asks #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley #peaches writes

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peachesofteal · 8 months

Note

Speaking about Ghost/Soap/Darling omegaverse... May I bring the idea of Soap and Ghost being alpha and Darling an omega? But wait, let me sprinkle a little of angsty thoughts about it:

Johnny and Simon get to spend their ruts together. Hell, they share a room, and even on base they get to have privacy and go through them with the help of each other, not only fulfilling their physical needs, which are sated of course, but also emotional. Yeah sure, heats are emotional but ruts are too, and they spend so much time together that almost, if not all of their ruts together have been spent in the company of each other.

But Darling? Imagine Darling having a heat every time she's alone. Simon and Johnny gone on some mission, gone for weeks and sometimes even months. Trying to satisfy herself with whatever smell is left on Simon's hoodie or Johnny's shirt. She tries to brush away the thoughts of loneliness and being left out that arise every time she rests in her nest, every time she has to painfully get through her heats without her mates' company.

Hell, she tries to hide everything every time Johnny and Simon come home, smelling like each other and fresh bite marks on their necks. She really, really tries. But nothing escapes those two, no. They can smell that little, slightly rotten smell on Darling, sensing her discomfort and those bouts of anger flaring up, those hints of desperation hiding in a slightly-rotten fruit smell. It becomes stronger and stronger each time she sees how close they are after they tell her that another rut came while they were on base, and her? At this point she might lie and say she's on suppressants. Again, they at least suspect about it.

But hell, the fact that there are always fresh bite marks on them every time they come home, while hers is is non-existent (Johnny and Simon foolishly believe she doesn't wish to be bitten), is NOT helping at all.

And they realize how drastic, how deep the problem is once their leave coincides with Darling's heat.

Except she hides. She doesn't let them in, because they maybe have never seen her on her heats.

She doesn't trust them to know how to deal with it, how to deal with an omegas' most vulnerable moment when all they've known is how alphas deal with their ruts.

Darling doesn't trust them, not fully, at least.

Djsjjd jfc when you said omegaverse I was 👁️👁️. Peach I hope you're having such a good day and I must thank you once more for giving us such beautiful stories, I hope nothing but good things happen to you from now on:)

— 🫔 Anon

Oh… okay, I see you. This is so good! There’s so much to explore here… 🩵

18+ / dead disco omegaverse au (it needs a name but we’ll get there?) / mature themes

The door swings wide, and Johnny is nearly bowled over by the scent. It’s everywhere in the flat, wafting down the hall to where they both stand at the threshold, overcome with the smell of overripe fruit, something sour and tart hovering at the precipice.

It’s the smell of their omega in distress.

But what surprises them both, is along with the burnt tannins of distress, is another smell. A ripe smell, a bruised stone fruit smell.

The smell of an omega in heat.

But their omega doesn’t have heats. You’re on suppressants.

Still, it’s definitely your scent. There’s no mistaking it.

Simon tenses, hackles rising with a growl. Johnny’s hand finds his chest, placing his palm over the older, bigger alpha’s heart soothingly. They’ve just both come off a rut, poor timing all things considered. Both exhausted, they were looking forward to getting home and falling into bed with you, cuddling you close while they both slept off the stress from the op and the remaining… sensitivities.

“Darling?” Simon calls, keeping his voice soft and easy.

There’s no answer. The flat is silent.

“Love? Are you here?” Johnny tries, pushing through to the bedroom, where he’s half expecting to see you curled up in the bed.

Except, you’re not.

It looks like you may have been, at one point. It’s a pile of blankets and pillows, haphazardly arranged with various shirts and other soft things.

Johnny chokes on a breath. The scent is much, much stronger in here, and Simon’s eyes slide closed as he draws a deep inhale.

“Omega?” He murmurs, and to their relief, there’s a small whimper from the closet.

When he gets the door open, his heart breaks. Simon’s body goes preternaturally still, and they both stare down at you.

You’re drenched in sweat, burrowed in a pile of clothes, eyes wide. You reek, panic and fear, distress and pain burning in their nostrils, along with the overripe scent, the telltale smell of a heat. Worse, when you look up at them, there’s no recognition there. Nothing to show that you know who they are to you, or even where you are. Johnny shoves away his panic over your confusion, this state, to try to coax you forward into his arms.

“Hey, there ye are.” He reaches for you, slowly, and your body presses against the corner, head shaking back and forth. Johnny frowns. “Darling, it’s okay. It’s us, you’re alright.” His hand gets closer, nearly brushing you knee, and then to their absolute shock, you snarl.

Simon is conflicted. He’s confused.

Why did you tell them you’re on suppressants?

They would have done things a lot differently, if that wasn’t the case. They wouldn’t have left you alone, if they had known. His stomach clenches when he thinks about the possibility that this isn’t the first time you’ve been on your own during a heat.

“Darling.” Simon coos. He doesn’t want to reach for you. He doesn’t want to pull you from the closet, this safe spot you’ve built, your nest. He doesn’t want to force you out, like his father would have. Like he always did to his mother. His father would have gripped you so hard it would have hurt you, left bruises on you. He would have terrified you, taken joy from it. “Omegas are weak.” Simon was raised to believe. “The lesser. It’s our job to teach ‘em.”

You snort out a trembling breath from your nose, little groan slipping from your lips and you rub your wrist on your gland. Johnny makes a strangled sound in his throat as it happens, and Simon doesn’t need to ask to know what he’s thinking.

Only omegas who have been abandoned or lost their mates try to self soothe like that, scent themselves like that. It’s an instinct, something that happens to try to prevent them from becoming overheated or harmed by a heat unmanaged.

“No, no no. It’s alright, love, we’re here.” Johnny pleads, hand still tentatively outstretched while you stare at his fingers. Every time your wrist rubs over your gland, they both cringe, and Johnny’s body goes rigid.

“I- don’t-” You stutter. You blink at them slowly, and he can see it all on your face, plain as day. The pain. The confusion. The distress.

Simon crouches, just outside the closet. He starts up a soothing rumble, trying to lure you towards him. You lift your head slowly when you hear it, when you feel the subharmonics, the song that sings to you.

“Come here, baby.” Your brow creases, and you rub your face. You look exhausted, like you haven’t slept in days and he wonders how long you’ve been you like this, how long you’ve been suffering. You don’t smell like pre heat, so you must be on the curve upwards. Guilt burns in his stomach. “It’s alright now.” Johnny moves next to him, shifting into a kneel very slowly while you watch him, hazy gaze fixed on the bite marks on his neck, over his gland.

“You’re safe.” Johnny coaxes, and he keeps his hand towards you, but unmoving, trying to show you that neither of them are a threat.

They both work to emit soothing scents, trying to lull you into their arms. You watch them warily, curiously, eyes opening and closing in slow motion as your instincts battle whatever confusion is happening beneath the surface.

It works. You crawl slowly out from the corner, t shirt sticking to your skin, your arms trembling under your weight.

“Good girl.” Simon murmurs. Neither of them move, afraid to spook you, and then you’re curling up between their bodies, rubbing your wrist against your gland over and over.

You tuck yourself into them, head laying on Simon’s chest and his hand comes slowly to rub your back, getting you used to his touch, easing you into a more relaxed state while Johnny smooths a hand over your shoulder, coasting his wrist closer and closer to your gland, trying to scent you subtly and soothe you, gentle you. You whimper when he makes contact, and they both press a little closer.

“Shhh. You’re okay, darling. We’re here.” Simon bows his head, skimming his nose overtop your scalp, and you shift, hands grabbing for Johnny, trying to pull his body overtop yours, effectively sandwiching yourself as tight as you can between their mass. You whine, and Johnny hums in your ear, soothing you by scenting until you’re letting out little rumbles of your own, soft purrs puffing against Simon’s chest, Johnny’s lips ghosting across your sweat dotted forehead.

#🫔 anon #tamale anon you genius!#peaches asks #peaches writes #dead disco omegaverse au

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peachesofteal · 1 month

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are going to write more about that recent ghoap/reader scenario bc it’s DELICIOUS i’m on my knees begging for more

(no honestly your writing is INSANE. out of this world. like every word you write is pure gold)

18+ dark content

Wherever you are, it's huge.

It's a compound of some kind, you think, with long hallways with small windows and locked doors twisting and turning for what feels like miles, each step you take more confusing and misplaced than the last.

No matter where you go, you're no closer to a beginning or an end. You can't even turn back to the room you were in, the king size bed you woke up inside, the suffocating headache throbbing behind your eyes, the ache and pain in your mouth making it difficult to backtrack.

It makes you want to rip your hair from your scalp. It makes you feel insane.

What is happening?

You can't stop shaking. You're trembling like a newborn deer, lost in the wilderness without a mother. No shoes. Some night shirt falling to your thighs, hair twisted back away from your face.

None of it your own doing. None of it familiar. Not your bed. Not your clothes. Not your hairstyle.

Where are you?

"Hello?" You try again, echoing bouncing off the walls, to no avail. You strain to look out a window, just barely getting a glance of a rolling hill, lush green grass and a vibrant tree line.

Definitely not in the city anymore.

Fear lights a fuse on a stick of dynamite, the intensity nearly bringing you to your knees.

What happened? Oh god. What's happening?

"There ye are!" You blink, and then blink again. Recognition forcing it's way to the front of conscious thought.

That's... that's.... the Scottish guy. From the alleyway. What's he doing here?

"Wh-what... Who..." You stumble, and he pulls you upright by the elbow, grip just a shade too strong.

"Ye had us worried. Cannae run off like that." He chides, and tries to tug you forward, into his side. Your heartbeat clangs in your chest, too loud, too fast.

When you don't move, he sighs.

"C'mon love. Dinnae be difficult."

"Who... are you?"

"I'm Johnny. Remember? We met last week?" Your stomach flips. Last week? He means last night. Surely.

"Last night? Outside the bar?"

"Last week, bonnie. When ye fainted on me? I know, ye probably dinnae remember. Ye've had a long few days." He's got you firmly on his hip now, an arm around your waist, anchoring you without trouble. You're a wisp on the wind, barely standing, barely breathing, content to be pulled along in whatever gust catches you.

Right now, it's him.

He leads you to a door, smiling the whole way.

"Are ye hungry? Probably need somethin' soft for yer mouth." Your mouth. Your subconsciously touch the corner of your jaw.

"I... what's going on?" You keep throwing these questions at him, and he continues to ignore you, instead pushing you through into a kitchen-

where the scariest man you'd ever seen sits at a table, enjoying some eggs and toast.

"Hello, love."

#peaches asks #i wrote this on my phone #so mind the mistakes #ghoap x reader

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peachesofteal · 8 months

Note

PEACH i’m humblingly asking for more omegaverse dead disco, maybe hearing some more thoughts from ghost and johnny about darling’s heat? perhaps they managed to get you to rest (as they’re both still incredibly sensitive) and as they’re talking about what to do, they witness even more self soothing behaviors from darling in your sleep, like they aren’t even there.

i usually don’t particularly read omegaverse, but the way you wrote it??? AGHHHHH I LOVE IT

So, I don��t usually dabble in omegaverse either, this is the first time I’ve actually started to put words down for it (except for a little fic I’ve been plucking away at) so it’s a little intimidating but also fun! I find it very self indulgent but hey, that’s why I’m here. 🩵

I live for your ideas they’re always sooooo good. Takes place after this.

Johnny closes the door behind him, ensuring it clicks shut, but keeping it quiet enough that it won’t wake you.

They don’t need it to open to listen for you, your scent alone will tell them everything they need to know.

“She’s asleep. Finally.” His head droops forward, into Simon’s chest as the bigger Alpha rubs his back gently. They managed to lull you into a heat hazed sleep, both of them emitting enough pheromones to break through your hormone addled state, reassuring you it was safe enough for you to lay in the bed.

“No- no.” Simon strips his hoodie off and places it on the bed, followed by his t shirt and then Johnny’s as they coax you towards the mattress.

“Yes, darling. It’s okay. This is our bed, it’s your bed.” He holds out your own long sleeve t shirt, trying to jog your awareness with your own scent. Your temperature has gone down since they got home, regulated by their ability to relax you, scent you, but it’s evident you haven’t slept in days. You don’t have the strength to manage a cycle right now, and their priority is your health.

The rest has to wait.

“It’s- it’s not safe.” Your eyes dart around and Simon tightens his grip on the back of your neck, just enough to help settle you into to an calmer state, while Johnny eases you onto your side slowly.

“You’re safe. We’re right here. You’re in your nest, at home.” Fat tears pool at your eyelids and then roll down your cheeks while you grab for them, trying to press yourself as close as possible.

“A-alpha.” You whimper and Johnny’s heart chips. How long had you been here, crying for them? Alone?

“Shhh.” He hums, and you wrap your arms around his neck. Simon keeps his chest to your back, steady and soothing subharmonics rattling through the three of you. “Close your eyes, darling. Rest.”

It wasn’t uncommon for Omegas to experience feelings of distress and anxiety during a heat or before, and considering the depth of your emotions on a regular day, it didn’t surprise Johnny or Simon that these heat standard emotions were affecting you so strongly.

But for you to be trying to self soothe, scent yourself, was enough to make them both very, very concerned.

It makes them wonder if there are other things about you, that maybe they don’t know.

“She won’t be down for long.” Simon murmurs into Johnny’s overgrown mohawk, and he nods. When you wake, he knows it will be to unbearable agony, and he dreads those moments when you’ll be upset and in pain.

“Need to go to the grocery store.” He grunts, and pulls away to peer into the fridge, worrying his lip between his teeth as he stares at it’s sparse contents. You haven’t been eating. Anxiety roils his stomach, and Simon rumbles a bit to calm him. You’ll need food, and lots of it, fresh fruit and vegetables, protein. Enough to water and juice to sink a ship, too. It’s been a long time since either of them have experienced an Omega’s heat, and it being yours, makes it all that more intense. Precarious. Precious.

They always dreamed of sharing your heat with you, used to whisper about it to one another during their ruts, dreaming about you, wishing you were with them.

But you were insistent about the suppressants. Stubborn about them. You said you needed the drugs, that you couldn’t handle your heats, that you didn’t want them. That you didn’t want to be controlled by your designation.

And they believed you. They didn’t want to push you, make it seem like they were engaging in overbearing Alpha behavior. They loved you no matter your designation. With heats, or no heats.

“Why did she lie?” Simon questions aloud, staring off at the door. His face is grim, and Johnny shakes his head.

“Dinnae ken.”

“I think… there are a lot of things, we don’t know.” He pauses, and then a look of heartbreak filters across his face. “This… this is my fault. I should have been paying closer attention. I shouldn’t have pushed away my instincts, should’ve taken control.” Johnny’s about to disagree when there’s a spike in your scent, waves of sour tinged distress and confusion pulsing from the bedroom.

You’re curled on the bed, shaking against the sheets, a pillow tucked between your knees and-

Your wrist is rubbing against the gland in your neck, again.

Trying to scent yourself, soothe yourself. Even though you’re laying in a pile of their clothes, even though Simon’s balaclava is twisted around your forearm.

Johnny feels sick.

Why don’t you recognize your own partners? Why are you emulating abused, abandoned Omega behaviors?

Why does it feel like you’re on an island somewhere, where they can’t reach you?

“Darling.” Simon coos, and then starts to break down the tense lines of your body, your muscles, encouraging you to lay flat while you whimper and squeak in your fitful sleep.

They shouldn’t have left you alone.

You curl up against the bigger Alpha, but your wrist finds the gland again, and Simon catches it in his hand, pressing a finger to your palm in circular movements.

“No, no baby.” He holds your hand steady, and you twitch against him, lashes fluttering. Johnny molds himself onto the other side, and replaces your movements with his own, pushing out as many calming pheromones as possible, letting his lips press to your hair, your ear, the soft skin of your neck.

Minutes pass, and Simon holds your wrists firm. You twist and pull against him but they hold you steady between their bodies, gentling you as much as they can until your eyes are blinking awake and you’re wincing in pain.

“I don’t feel good.” You moan, and he hums, wide palm sliding over your belly to tuck you closer.

“I know darling, I know. We’re going to make it better, I promise.”

#peaches asks #peaches writes #dead disco omegaverse au

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peachesofteal · 7 months

Note

That nurse au? Devoured it and it lives in my brain rent free. If Simon and Johnny notice the bruises on Nurse do they share looks? Maybe Johnny tries to gently ask about them? I loved this so much.

Anon is referencing this. The way nurse x ghoap has spread through my brain like a flesh eating bacteria is insane. And I can't actually answer this ask because I'm writing it as a fic but I'm happy to give you a little possible snippet/glimpse/ramble down below:

The tablet in your hand chimes, drawing your attention away from the vending machine and to it's far-too-bright-for-this-ungodly-hour screen, to where it displays a status change in red.

268: 38.5 degrees.

Fuck. You abandon your sub par dinner options for nearly sprinting to the room, slowing to a walk to take long, deep breaths before your knuckles are rapping on the glass. Get control of yourself. Simon is too perceptive. He will panic. It could be nothing.

You don't even bother acknowledging your thought process there, the truth that is starting to bleed from your heart, through your body like a disease. The reason why you check on them so often, the reason why you can't stop thinking about them, even when you're off shift. The reason why, when you go home in the morning to go to bed, you drift off thinking about Johnny's sleepy smile, or Simon's voice, humming in your ears.

"Hi." You whisper when you slip inside. He straightens a bit in the armchair, but you're happy to see he's using it as a recliner now, progress from last week when he wouldn't even let himself lean backwards, or fall asleep willingly.

His brow furrows above the black mask.

"Hey, everything alright?" Shit. You're not surprised, you were just in here, after all. Spending too much time sitting in the chair opposite him, next to Johnny, on your break before your patient fell asleep.

"Yeah, I ah... have to draw some blood." You really do not want to wake him up, or alarm Simon, but you also refuse to lie to either of them. You fire off a text to the attending on call, just to advise him of Johnny's temperature and the impending labs that he can expect, before sliding a drawer open as softly as possible and pulling out everything you'll need. You can feel his gaze burning a hole in your scrubs, his ever present scrutiny impossible to escape. Sometimes you think he might be reading your fucking mind.

"He just fell asleep." He protests, and you think, you imagine, that he's frowning behind the mask. You think you almost know what it looks like, strong mouth pulled downwards in consternation, wide jaw gnashed tight.

"I know, but he's running just a bit of a fever." He jolts, and you hold up a hand in caution. "It's not too high, so I'm not super worried, but we'll need to check his white cell count, just in case okay? And then we'll go from there."

"Post op fever is common." He repeats the words you told him last week, after Johnny's second surgery, the one where they went in for the pneumothorax complication, and you nod to reassure him.

"Right. So, just going to do a quick blood draw and get it downstairs so we can find out what's going on." Simon shifts uncomfortably, but nods. You squeeze Johnny's shoulder softly, before swabbing the spot on the inside of his elbow.

He blinks, eyes opening slowly, confused brow smoothing when he looks from his partner, over to you.

"There's our girl." He mumbles softly, and your face heats, eyes widening in surprise before you regulate your reaction. Simon coughs, loudly, and you shake your head with a nervous smile.

"Such a flirt, MacTavish." You tie him fast, fingers a little more clumsy than usual, off balance from hearing him say 'our girl', like you mean something to them. "I just need to get some blood and then I'll leave you in peace." He shrugs, but Simon grabs for his hand and squeezes it.

"Ah come on, Si." He slurs, but reaches to cup Simon's cheek over the mask, rubbing a thumb over the fabric.

"You're runnin’ a fever, Johnny."

"Ach. 's nothing." He brushes it off, but you watch how his eyes are slow to track Simon's movements. You casually glance at the monitor, noting his blood pressure.

"Could be." You assure him. "But can't be too sure, so we're going to check a few labs, alright?" He nods, sleepy, already falling back under, and you pull the needle, taping a small patch of gauze over the puncture in one fell swoop. “Alright. Let me run these down, and I’ll be back up to check on you in a bit.” You turn, stripping your gloves off into the trash.

“We’ll miss ye.” He whispers, and you roll your eyes playfully, even as your stomach clenches.

Simon’s eyes don’t leave you for a single second, not until the door is shut and you’re out of sight.

#nurse x ghoap #idk what we're calling this #peaches asks #peaches writes #ghoap x reader #ghost x soap x reader #ghost x soap #simon riley #john soap mactavish #simon riley x reader #john soap mactavish x reader

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peachesofteal · 8 months

Note

Very curious about the aftermath of darling having to explain why they lied about taking the suppressants— would they refuse to say anything? Or during their heat would Simon & Johnny contact their doctor for something— maybe if darlings fever was higher than it should be— and found out a bit what happened to them when they were younger because they’re their medical proxy.

🖤

Takes place after this / thank you to @ghostlythunderbird for her help!

18+ MDNI / dead disco omegaverse au / cock warming / mature themes

Simon leans over the tub, fingers swirling through the extremely hot water while you whimper and gasp against Johnny’s chest, mouth half open, nearly asleep astride his lap.

“Alpha.” You whine when he shifts, face burrowed against his skin.

“I’ve got ye, darling. I’m here.” He smoothes a hand up and down your back, soothing you, all while trying not to grit his teeth too loud.

He’s teetering on the edge, cock hard again inside your body, recovered from earlier when he finally took you as Simon soaped you clean.

Simon spreads his fingers across the the small of your back, dripping water droplets up your spine before twisting a bunch of your hair into a clip to keep it from getting wet. You’d be mad if you weren’t out of your mind in a heat haze, and your hair got wet outside of a wash day.

“Johnny.” You whimper, and the Alpha’s hand disappears beneath the water in response, patting your hip and pressing his lips to gland to settle you.

Simon really wants to pluck you from the tub and spread you to wide on the bathroom floor. He wants to spread towels out to prevent your skin from being chilled and then lay you on your back, wants to fuck his come deep into your womb until you’re gushing with it, until it takes. It’s the same way Johnny felt, when you were sitting on his lap, bouncing with your desperation, crying in need for him to fill you.

If he was in a rut, no one would have even made it to the bathroom. He would have already bred you, already fucked you full of his seed and plugged it.

But he’s not. And he’s not the one in the tub right now either, so he has to attend to the other things. Just as important, not as much fun.

“A-alpha please.” You gasp, eyes wide and teary and Johnny nods, pressing a thumb against your bottom lip, and starting back up a deep, harmonic purr in hopes of getting you back to sleep.

“I know, I know.” He coos.

Simon bends, swallowing Johnny’s lips, kissing him lazily, indulging in his pants and gasps as you tighten around him. You push at Simon’s shoulder, face screwed up in irritation, and he chuckles softly before kissing you sweetly, long and deep until you’re whining for him to get in the tub behind you.

Now that they’ve started, you’ll only stop for food and rest, and getting you to eat and drink will be a challenge in itself. Everything is shifting, your unease, distress has faded away to your instincts, your drive to be bred by them, and they’ll spend the rest of your heat giving you everything you need, soothing you and praising you, comforting you and making you feel safe, satisfying and taking care of you. They’ll flood you with their DNA, their hormones, their pheromones, completing the cycle over and over until it passes.

Simon relishes it. He loves caring for you with or without your designation, loves the idea of growing their family, of him or Johnny fucking you full of themselves until you’re swelling with their baby. It’s instinct, and primal, but so, so much more with you. You’re not just some Omega… you’re theirs. Their darling. You’ve always been theirs.

Which is why he can’t stay in the bathroom, even though he dearly wants to.

Your fingers latch onto his forearm when he pulls away, and he folds you farther into Johnny, until his mouth is above your gland and he’s licking, distracting you enough for Simon to slip away.

“Her last prescription was written six months ago, but it was a lower dosage, preparing for the weaning off time frame.” The kitchen knife slows to a stop in the middle of the apple he’s cutting, and he places it down to hold the phone firmly in his hand.

“Sorry, you said… six months?” His heart thunders in his ears. Six months? Half a year? He struggles to get a handle on the ache in his soul when he thinks about you struggling for so long, without them even knowing.

The doctor sighs.

“She was advised to inform you, to see if your work schedules could be adjusted for her heats. After being on suppressants for so long, they were anticipated to be more intense, more debilitating.”

“I- I don’t understand. Why did she come off the suppressants?”

“The long term use of suppressants have had negative impacts on her body… did she not tell you?” His stomach twists.

“No, she… failed to mention. We came home to her in the beginning of a heat but, she wasn’t herself. She was self soothing, we’re very concerned.”

“As you’re aware, yourself and Mr. MacTavish are listed as medical proxy… I can email an encrypted chart with her medical information if you’d like.” He grimaces. You’re going to be so pissed, so bloody heated when you come out of this and realize they’ve trampled all over your boundaries in this way but what else can he do?

“Alright, that will work fine.”

He reads the file alone. He doesn’t think it appropriate, to read it with Johnny while you’re practically attached to him, even though that makes him feel guilty too.

But he can’t run the risk of upsetting you, not when they finally got you settled and comfortable.

So, he opens it on the couch. It’s a massive file, as he expects most Omega’s are, considering their unique genetic needs, complicated endocrine systems and of course, reproductive health needs.

He finds the chart notes from your appointment, six months ago.

“-advised pt that stopping suppressants should be considered due to impact in pheromone production and reproductive health. Advised pt that continued long term use may have permanent effects. Pt stated she understood, agreed to start next month with a lower dosage to wean off.”

He scrolls, to a visit from last year. It’s fairly standard, mentions of blood work and labs, appropriate levels and other medical jargon, but something sticks out.

“-pt inquired if it was possible to successfully bite and bond without a heat. Informed pt it was not advised.”

Why were you asking about bites? You’d never expressed interest in that to them before… you had always told them you were happy the way things were. That you didn’t need a bond to be theirs, just like you didn’t need a heat. He’s still frowning when a note from your visit three years ago jars him.

“-pt advised she feels she’s in a safe, healthy relationship, and would consider coming off suppressants. Previous feral state symptoms have seemed to completely dissipate. Pt seems happy and very healthy. I advised I feel it would be safe if she did come off her suppressants if she chose.”

Feral? Feral state?

“Oh, darling.” He murmurs. “Why didn’t you tell us?”

He scrolls farther, eyes scanning through years and years of visits, going much farther back since they’ve known you, until he finds an intake form from a hospital, when you only 16 years old.

His heart stops in his chest.

“-female Omega brought in with the group who was rescued from the trafficking ring. Fluctuates between catatonia and feral state. No bites or bonds, gland intact. Unable to verbalize her name, or memories. Started on sedative drip until specialist arrives.”

#peaches asks #peaches writes #dead disco omegaverse au #ghost x soap x reader

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peachesofteal · 10 months

Note

Imagine got the baby trap au that darling does get away, but as years pass Johnny and ghost manage to run into darling again, and seeing her with their baby🥺 they try to convince her to come back 🥺 that darling needs them, and so does their baby🥺

SCREAMS! What is WRONG with you! You are SICK! I love you SO much, this is painful, I love it.

Simon's pushing the trolley down the aisle, while Johnny walks in front, pulling items off the shelf and placing them neatly in the bottom. He's not fond of this grocery, preferring the one at their last place, but for all intents and purposes, it's not too bad. He can't complain, he supposes. They made the decision to move around like this together, after all. He didn't say no after Johnny begged him to sell the flat, didn't disagree when Johnny said it was too hard. That it was too much. He knew it was.

He's lost in thought about this, about their recent rental by the sea, and the smell of the kelp and salt that lingered in the air every morning when the trolley jerks to a stop, Johnny with his hand on the front, standing stone still.

"Simon." He croaks. He's stopped dead in the middle of the floor, staring straight ahead, looking at someone.

Looking at you.

You, with a child in your arms, a child that looks like a perfect mixture of you and one of them, the melding of DNA babbling happy in your grip, while you answer her with excited words and exaggerated facial expressions. You, smiling, bright, and beaming, while the little girl mimics your facial expressions. You, putting cans into the trolley, while she makes grabby hands for everything. You, and their daughter. Together. Here.

You're so beautiful. She's so beautiful. And she looks healthy, happy, perfect. He nearly falls to his knees, while Johnny physically shakes beside him, his entire body trembling like he's experiencing the aftershocks of an earthquake.

Have you been alone this whole time? Did you have her all by yourself? Is anyone helping you? Do you have support? Are you okay?

Simon can't move. All he can do is stare at you, just like Johnny is. He's quick to catalogue everything he's seeing, quick to look beneath the baby talk and the pinched smile. Quick to see the other things, the ones you were always shit at hiding from them. The weight loss. The tone of your skin. The way your eyes shift, blink and shutter while you carry the baby's weight. The contents of your cart, the overflowing bounty of top tier baby food, colorful smoothies in pouches and plump produce, while the adult food is limp and lackluster, or just canned. You're taking care of the baby, but no one is taking care of you.

One hundred thoughts flicker through his head. Mostly, its the lines that he's rehearsed to himself a million times, the apologies, the demands, the denials. The begging. The pleading.

I did everything wrong. I made every mistake. We never deserved you. We love you so much. Come home.

"Simon." Johnny hisses, and he jerks to see you, staring back at them, eyes wide and panicked, your hand cradling the baby's head protectively. "No. No, no." Johnny whispers, because he can see the same thing Simon does, the way you're looking past them, around them, looking for an exit. Looking for an escape.

"Don't run." Simon calls to where you stand like a frightened deer at the other end of the aisle. "Please. Please, darling. Don't run."

#baby trap au #peaches asks #peaches writes #ghost x soap x reader #soap x ghost x reader #ghoap x reader #ghost x reader x soap

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peachesofteal · 4 months

Note

Mother Peaches you. You are BLESSING us with content. And I am an ungrateful heathen stepping into your home to throw out a thought that if you by chance were stumped on something to write or wanted to throw a scrap out into the void as a warm up writing piece or cool down or whatever the writer equivalent is. May I propose the idea of Simon and Johnny boy taking care of darling when she has a cold? The sniffles, if you will. For I fear that I am on deaths doorstep and this cold will actually take me out. My dying wish, if you please, dear peach. May those two beefy boys take me to the gates of heaven.

Here is some comfort and fluff for everyone before Chapter 11 goes up. Consider it a gift. Hope you recovered well, dear anon! Ghost/Soap/female reader - Dead Disco verse Warnings-tags: sickfic, loss of consciousness, hospitals.

"Ye're sleepy this morning." Johnny hums, palm smoothing over your forehead. "Ye feelin' okay?" A yawn stretches your lips wide, and you shrug.

"Yeah, just tired." Your head hurts a little, an ache reverberating behind your skull, spreading out from your eyes to your ears, so you bury your face in his chest, breathing in the scent of his skin. "Don't wanna get up."

"Well, ye dinnae have to. But I thought we could have breakfast while we wait for Si." He murmurs. You blink up at him, sight a little bleary, and he frowns, brow wrinkled in concern. "Darling?"

"Yeah, breakfast is fine. Good." your lips smack, dry. Crusted. You snuggle closer, chilled, and Johnny wraps his arms around you, rubbing a palm down your back.

"Are ye sure ye're feeling alright?"

"Mhmm."

"Breakfast in bed, then?" The proposal carries weight, memories, of past meals in bed, ones that ended with you being the meal instead of whatever Johnny whipped up, but instead of it exciting you, you relent to your weariness, sinking back into the sheets with a sigh. Johnny kisses you, sweet lips on your brow. "Go back to sleep, love. I'll bring you something in a bit." And well, who can say no to that?

You wake some time later to the bed shifting, blankets being moved. The air is heavy, thick with heat even though you're freezing, the throbbing in your skull much worse than it was before.

"Darling?" It's Simon. He's in bed beside you, trying to peel you free from the pile of blankets. You open your mouth to respond, but instead of words, a dry heave wells in your chest, rough, sputtering cough wracking your body. "Fuck, okay. I've got you, c'mon. Up we go." He heaves you into his arms, supporting your weight, back to his chest, your breathing labored.

"She's gotten worse." Johnny grimaces, thumb stroking your temple. "Didnae have a cough this morning." This morning?

"What time is it?" You croak.

"It's nearly twelve." Twelve? You've slept the whole morning. You fidget, trying to shift off the bed, but Simon stills you with an arm across your chest, palm flat over your heart.

"Jus' take it easy. You're not going anywhere."

"I slept the whole morning." You protest, but let them lay you back, settling you against the pillows.

"You're sick, darling. You're running a fever, and I don't like the sound of that cough." You shake your head, trying to protest, but when you take a breath, it gets stuck in your chest, and your eyes widen when your lungs heave. "Alright, you're alright." Simon soothes, voice low in your ear. "Just breathe, that's it." Once the bout finishes, he resettles you, and then trades places with Johnny, tucking him in alongside your body, working the blankets in around you both.

"Simon's goin' get ye some tea, and I'm goin' hold ye for a while."

"We had plans today." You moan, and he clucks.

"We can reschedule. Ye're what's important." Blue eyes full of worry watch you, and his brow crumples. "Ach, poor darling girl. I'm sorry ye're feeling so bad." He's so sweet, so kind. So loving, even when you're sick as death, it still makes you feel so warm and tingly, all through your body.

"Love you." You whisper, and he holds you close, nose in your hair.

"Love ye too."

Everything is dark. You feel like you're swimming in a murky pool, blackened, sticky tar that weighs you down, your arms and legs trying to fight to propel you up to the surface for air, working to break through so you can breathe.

In the water, in the deep, someone calls your name. Someone yells it, shouts it, and you try opening your eyes in response, to no avail. I'm here, you want to scream. I'm right here. Your body shakes, like you're being dragged, tossed around like a doll, and you try to speak, use your voice again. Nothing comes, and the dark swallows you whole, filling your mouth and nose with it's pitch black water, pushing you beneath it's swell once more.

The next time you wake, you're not in the bedroom. The ceiling is white, world too bright. There's something on your face, in your arm, and you whine at the feeling, skin pulling taut beneath tape.

"Hey, hey. You're alright." It's Simon, Simon's voice around you, pulling you closer, and your vision focuses, to see the two very concerned, very frantic faces of your boyfriends hovering over you.

"There she is." Johnny breathes.

"What..." You look around. This is a hospital. Why are you in the hospital? "What happened?" Just being in a place like this makes you anxious, sends your pulse rate higher, and they both glance up at the sound of the hurried beeping coming from the monitor.

"Ye're okay. It's alright, darling. Take a deep breath."

"We couldn't wake you up." Simon explains from your right, sitting back in a chair that's been pulled to the side of the bed. He clutches your hand, kissing your knuckles. "You were wheezing and it-" He stops abruptly, swallowing. He looks scared, you realize, and when you look at Johnny's face, you see it too. The fear. The worry.

"Ye sounded like ye were in pain." Johnny says. "We called for an ambulance and brought ye here."

"Am... am I okay?" You whisper, and they both smile, gently. Sweetly.

"You're okay, darling. You're going to be fine. You're on a strong course of antibiotics and we're going to take you home tomorrow." Simon assures, still holding onto your hand. Johnny perches on the bed by your hip, leaning over to kiss you, lips on your cheek for a lingering second.

"They said we can stay with ye tonight." He gestures to the little pull out bed by the window, and a recliner that has a pillow and blankets stacked on it. "Hospital sleepover. We're all goin' eat jello." He thumbs your cheek, and you both smile, eyes wandering to where Simon sits like stone, severe expression on his face. "She's alright, Si. See?" Johnny murmurs, and he nods.

"I know." He clears his throat. "I know she is." You squeeze his hand.

"Everything's goin' be alright." Johnny continues, and Simon's eyes shudder for a second, slipping shut when he takes a deep breath. When he opens them, he looks calmer, more steadfast, and you smile at him.

"How about that jello, then?"

#peaches asks #dead disco #peaches writes #ghost x soap x reader #soap x reader x ghost #ghost x reader x soap #ghoap x reader #simon riley #john soap mactavish

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peachesofteal · 8 months

Note

Oh my gosh imagine! Imagine Johnny wakes up first so naturally he goes to check on you and you’re just gone! So ofc he goes to wake up Ghost in a panic. And naturally they search the whole house before realizing that the front door is open and then they just lose it. Bc their omega isn’t just outside, she’s outside IN HEAT other alphas will jump at the chance to mate and breed what’s theirs. And poor you has no clue what’s happening. All you know is it’s hot and loud and everything is so scary and you just want Johnny & Simon to come back and take care of you and keep you safe. All you can do is sink down on your knees in the middle of the sidewalk & cry. Johnny & Simon are finally able to find you, less than a block away sobbing your poor hear out on the dirty ground and their hearts just break bc their poor sweet darling is like this. Simon just scoops you up and carries a whimpering, sobbing you back to the apartment, tucking you back into your nest and promising a hovering Johnny that they’ll discuss this with you when you wake back up.

(I’m sorry for how long this is your last post just really got me)

HEY hi hello this is 🤌 let us indulge. Takes place after this.

🩵

18+ / MDNI / dead disco omegaverse au / Mature themes

Johnny wakes instinctively.

There’s a buzzing in the back of his mind, a gnawing, biting sound that’s fissuring across his soft tissues and down into his cerebral cortex. It’s bothering him, dragging him further and further to consciousness.

Wake up. Wake up, wake up, wake up-

“Johnny.” Of course, Simon has woken at the same time. They operate on the same circuit, same wave length, same state of being. It is no surprise that as soon as Johnny’s eyes are blinking open blearily, his partner’s, his mate’s, are doing the same.

They were so fucking tired. Not having slept in over twenty four hours, and then thrown for a loop when they got home to you, found you, suffering, terrified, in the beginning throes of your heat, hiding in the closet.

He tried not to think about what it all meant. He’s still trying.

His brain snaps to life just as Simon is sitting up, both of them groping in the dark. His hindbrain is screaming at him, urging up forward and up. Something is wrong, something is wrong, Omega, Omega-

“Darling?” Simon calls out to no answer. No sound of you breathing, or coming awake between them in the bed. No sound your whimpering, or the little soft moans that you had making in your sleep.

Your scent is still present, but not tangible. Not real.

The bed is cool in the middle. His fingers stretch across his, hoping to feel the curve of your body, the heat of your skin.

Simon’s already got the light on by the time he’s swinging his legs over the mattress.

Johnny’s heart plummets to his stomach.

You’re not in the room.

Where are you?

Simon strides over to the closet door and eases it open, crouching on his knees, brow furrowing.

You’re not there. Your scent is even older in the closet too, sour distress faded amongst clean linen.

“Si-“

“Be calm.” The other Alpha instructs, but how can he? You’re not here.

Where are you?

He bolts from the room with his mate hot on his heels. You’ll be in the kitchen, he decides. Possibly trying to eat, your mind forcing you towards nutrition in preparation for breeding. Or, you’ll be curled up on the couch, half asleep, trying to smother your noises or soothe your pain by yourself.

“Darling?” It echoes, with no response. He sniffs the air on instinct, just to confirm the worst. His fear.

You’re not in the flat.

“Fuck.” Simon growls, and Johnny turns, nearly pushing into him.

Simon stands rigid, staring at the end of the hall.

Where the front door is hanging wide open.

“No.” It’s the ghost of a whisper, denial clogging his throat. “No, no, no.” His entire body, his brain, roars.

He yells your name. Shouts it, while Simon storms back into the bedroom and nearly rips the bathroom door from its hinges to look for you.

“She could be anywhere.” Johnny is not stupid. He’s incredibly intelligent. His expertise highlights his strengths, his tactical awareness, his patience, his problem solving and critical thinking skills. He’s not some impatient, newly packed Alpha with the hindbrain of a peanut. Outside of a rut, he stays fairly in control.

Or at least, he usually is.

But right now, his instinct is hard to shove down. It’s pushing through his mouth, forming across his tongue in fearful, rage filled snarl.

His Omega, their Omega, is gone. You’re gone, and could be anywhere. You could be hurt. You could be in danger. another Alpha could have found you. Could be trying to mate you, breed you. Could be trying to take what is theirs. Could be hurting you.

You’re out there, alone. Without them.

Something desperate, something scared and worried, breaks from his mouth.

Simon’s operating within the same window. He’s practically vibrating, pheromones filling the flat with the off taste of distress.

“Get dressed.” Simon snaps, and Johnny follows him into the room, moving in lock step.

They track your scent for almost an hour before it becomes strong enough to get a lock on it. Everyone steps out of their way, shying off the sidewalk and casting curious glances towards them, but Simon stops for none of them.

He’s only focused on one thing.

Omega.

“Close.” Johnny murmurs, Simon jerks his head in confirmation. Your scent is getting more and more pungent, rotten stone fruit permeating through his skin like a sickness.

You’re scared. You’re confused, panicked.

He tries to think like you would, but if he’s being honest, he doesn’t understand you right now. He doesn’t understand anything, doesn’t know why you’ve been lying, doesn’t know what’s been happening in their own flat. He doesn’t know what drove you to leave in the middle of the night, during your heat, and it’s driving him a little insane.

Where are you? His heart weeps when he thinks about you, their little Omega, on the street somewhere. Scared. Alone.

We’re coming, darling.

It doesn’t take too much longer, after that first hour. The full strength of your scent hits them like a truck when they turn down a block, and then to their relief, and subsequent horror, they find you kneeling on the sidewalk, sobbing. Your body shaking, eyes wide with fear as an Alpha towers over you. They can smell everything, your slick, your sweat, the evidence of your too vulnerable state, and Simon wants to rip this intruder to pieces.

The knife finds his hand like it’s always belonged there. Like it was born there, like it’s an extension of his body.

“Alpha.” You sob openly, eyes glinting in recognition when you blink up at them, and his instincts scream, hindbrain urging him to slaughter this fool in front of them so that he can tuck you into his arms.

“Get the fuck away from her.” Johnny growls, and the other Alpha straightens, clearly sizing him up for a fight.

“Piss off. Found ‘er first.”

“Don’t think so.” Simon grits out, and it’s enough to give their opponent pause, his gaze darting back and forth between the two of them.

Simon lifts the knife. Just enough to catch his attention, just enough to convince him to turn tail and run.

Leave him. His scent is strong, kill him another day. Omega needs us.

Johnny’s already moving towards you as soon as the offending outsider splits, and Simon tucks the blade away. For another day.

You cry, your wailing shattering his heart, splintering across his hindbrain, forcing him down towards you.

“Darling.” They both crouch, and your hands reach, seeking, shivering in the night. “Shhh. It’s alright now, baby.” Simon’s body instinctively seeks yours, looking to provide you with safety, with comfort, to cease your crying while Johnny’s does the same, and they both press you between them, holding tight while you hyperventilate.

“Try to breathe, love. We’re here now, it’s okay.” Johnny rumbles, setting up a deep vibration from his chest, soothing harmonics radiating from his body. When you don’t calm, he looks to his mate in worry, still trying to calm you. “Alpha’s here, right here. We’re with you, darling.”

It’s clear, you’re not going to calm down out here. Your body is in fight or flight.

They need to get you back to the nest.

Johnny tugs you forward, maintaining full contact and tucking your face under his chin until Simon stands, when he bends forward and plucks you into his chest, tucking you away protectively while they trek back to the flat.

You cry, aloud, during the short trip. Sobbing into his neck, chest gasping for air while your hands try to hold onto Johnny at the same time. He tries to keep your face pressed to his gland, arms banded around your back, cradling your head to his neck. It hurts him, both of them, and Simon churns out soothing, calming pheromones in bucketloads, desperate to break through to you.

“Shhh, darling. Shhh.” He coos against your trembles, Johnny running ahead to unlock the door. They don’t even turn the lights on as they find their way into the bedroom, seeking the nest that you had previously abandoned.

When he puts you down and they pull away, you scream.

“Hey, we’re here. Everything’s alright, you’re safe now.” Johnny whispers, and then curls around you. You shiver, still reaching, and Simon molds himself along the other side, your body between them, sniffling and crying while you paw at their clothes. “She needs a bath.” Simon agrees, but he’s not sure if now is the time. Will you even let them bathe you?

“In the morning.” You need water, and food. It’s probably too late to even try to delay the rest of it, though he’s not sure either of them should be trying to fuck you in this state.

“What are we going to do?” Johnny worries aloud, voice teetering with anxiety. Simon knows that he’s scared, unraveling, only keeping himself at bay because you’re in his arms.

“In the morning, Johnny.” Simon reaches, stroking along the Alpha’s gland to soothe him, settle him.

He shifts, pushing off the pile to go to the kitchen and your scent spikes, noxious panic singing out into the room. You whimper, eyes peering through the dark at him, one hand clutching onto where Johnny has you pressed to his back, his mouth lapping over your gland, again and again, and the other, reaching for Simon.

“Alright, alright. I’m here, we’re here darling. We’ve got you.”

He folds your small fingers into his grip, sinking into the nest as he too, presses his lips to your neck to soothe you, strengthening your instincts until you’re softening, small whimpers purring in your chest.

#peaches asks #peaches writes #dead disco omegaverse au

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peachesofteal · 5 months

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Okay but, reader walking in on Simon doting on Emma

They’re going for a walk? Reader goes to grab something and comes back- Simon is smearing sunscreen on Emma’s face and she’s crying *crocodile* tears trying to get him to stop and he’s just like ‘ No, no don’t cry- don’t want you gettin’ a sun burn! M’ trying to help you, don’t cry’

Emma’s binky drops on the floor and he instantly grabs it, put’s it in his mouth to clean it off and pops it back in her mouth- just like he’s seen those mother’s do in the park

Her cuddling into his big ol’ tiddies to sleep and he just presses his nose to her head and breathes- he never knew why people liked sniffing babies… now he does.

And every time reader catches him- his eyes draw to her like a deer in headlights before reader looks at him with such a sweet look on her face that makes his face flush red… no one has looked at him that warmly before…

He’s the kind of dude who as soon as you leave, takes that stupid bow off. It’s stupid- the baby is cute enough. Then doesn’t know where he put it once you come back. Must’ve misplaced it… weird.

Trying to stop himself from laughing when she’s in those onesies that make them look like a bear- deep chuckles, biting back his grin as he grabs the tail in the back and lifts her bottom up and gently shakes her with it. (She was having tummy time)

Dresses her as a skeleton and wears his balaclava for Halloween…. No one messes with them on Halloween… even with the baby dressed up as a cute little skeleton and wiggling around as she’s strapped to his chest, he’s fucking terrifying.

(He wanted a different costume- a little cow costume but, reader insisted it be a skeleton so Emma would match him! It’s cute! And look! Reader dressed up to match him! I think Ghost would be a little bit touched reader though of *him* so much…)

Just thoughts! Not requests!

Sharing so everyone else can read. Definitely agree Simon is a baby head sniffer. Every chance he gets. Emma who lays her head on his chest because it’s her new favorite spot to sleep and those things are like pillows.

#peaches asks #light on

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peachesofteal · 10 months

Text

Dead Disco - AUs

Collection of AU works featuring the characters and relationship from Dead Disco. Dead Disco masterlist All works are 18+ Minors DNI. All works contain mature themes. READ THE TAGS.

Baby Trap AU: 18+ Dark and twisted themes. Explicit sex. Collection of asks revolving around Simon and Johnny baby trapping Darling by replacing her birth control with placebo to get her pregnant on purpose. Tag: baby trap au Original ramble here. Main asks: Breeding kink "What a good girl." List of things "You taste different." That little piece of foil "I'm not." Abortion Spits Grocery store Tranquilizer post tranq Ghost "I want to lay down." Grocery store pt 2 Sobs Darling dies "I need a break" Did you do this? Did you do this aftermath Phone call Hospital After hospital Doting and annoying Cramps cramps pt 2 Johnny "Darling, please!" Celestialpax - baby trap reverse uno card someone calls the cops Mango smoothie Team sport

Disco baby AU: 18+ Minors DNI. Mature themes. Collection of asks revolving around Darling getting pregnant on accident. Tag: disco baby au Main asks: Ultimate angst Cloud kick Hovering Cupcake Thoughts Birthday party You get it Johnny punches your boyfriend Baby girl Bee on the doorstep Bee and the guys after the doorstep The phone call - taken The phone call - angst The rescue insufferable

Omegaverse AU: 18+ mature themes. Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics. Explicit sex. Collection of asks/drabbles revolving around the throuple existing in omegaverse. Tag: dead disco omegaverse au Tamale anon "I think there are a lot of things we don't know." The suppressants What if Darling went MIA Lost and Found Pillow talk Warming You're safe Conversation Second heat

Zombie AU: Undead Disco 18+ mature themes. Collection of asks/drabbles revolving around the throuple existing during a zombie apocalypse Tag: dead disco zombie au or undead disco Ghoap x reader zombie au? What if darling was in Simon's place Immune darling humming Gollum Changes https-shogun Packing

Fantasy AU: 18+ mature themes. Collection of asks/drabbles revolving around the throuple existing in a fantasy timeline. The Seer Warprize princess If you're a... No notes Horseback

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