#by knowing that he can still help someone that he can still protect someone and make things right for them

[roosterforme]

Aim for the Sky Part 35 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: You're conflicted by your own words, unsure if you can stay away from your husband. There's only one person who can tell you the truth about Bradley, but she's the same one who seems to be on a quest to ruin your life.

Warnings: Angst, adult language, body image, DILF Roo, pregnancy, jealousy, mentions of cheating

Length: 3000 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

Aim for the Sky masterlist. This was written to accompany my series Is It Working For You? along with a bunch of my one-shots and other series, but it can be read on its own! Check my masterlist for the reading order.

Tramp whimpered at your feet. The muffled sound of the Bronco's door closing sent you to the front window to look out onto the driveway. It was dark, but you could see Bradley's tear-streaked face lit up by the dome light as you choked on a sob. It took everything you had to stand there instead of running to him. 

He was gripping the steering wheel of the blue Bronco, and you waited silently for the engine to start. But it didn't. He barely moved. And you barely moved. But you couldn't step away from the window even as the light inside the Bronco faded into the night. Everything was silent. Your pounding heartbeat was all you could hear as the baby squirmed around in your belly like she knew her father was too far away from her now. Minutes passed, and you sank down onto the couch, but Bradley never started the engine.

You wanted him to come back inside, but you just told him you wouldn't hesitate to take the kids and move back to Maryland with your parents. "What did you do?" you gasped as fresh tears filled your eyes. You couldn't tell if you were being strong or stupid or some combination of the two, but the longer you stared out the window, the more you realized Bradley wasn't leaving you even though you told him to.

Relief washed over you knowing he wasn't running off to Indigo. Maybe there was a way to salvage things. You couldn't take back what you said, and he couldn't take back anything he'd already done with her, but you didn't think you could stop loving him. You didn't think you could separate him from his daughters.

Your emotions were a mess as you eventually left the couch to get ready for bed. After you checked on Rose, finding her sound asleep in her crib without a care in the world, you peeked outside one more time. Bradley was still in the driveway, watching over the Craftsman and everything inside.

You took your broken heart to bed, trying your best to fall asleep through your tears.

-------------------------------

It was cold outside this late in October, but Bradley sucked it up. He was certain you knew he was still sitting in the driveway, and he didn't want to start the engine at three in the morning and startle you. Or make you think he was leaving. He wasn't going anywhere. So he let the cold surround him. 

Maybe you didn't want him in the house with you and Rose at the moment, but it was his responsibility to protect his family. And he wanted to be as close as you'd let him. Between small spurts of sleep, his mind drifted to the idea of you and Rose packing up everything in the house and moving across the country to live with your parents. It left him on the verge of panic each time. He bought the house for you. He had a family because of you. He was living beyond his wildest dreams married to you.

There was no way to convince you he wasn't lying. There was nothing he could say at this point that wouldn't sound like he was trying to cover his own ass. You could talk to Mav or Nat or Jake until they were blue in the face, but if you didn't trust him, it would sound like everyone was covering for him. Because truthfully, only he and Lieutenant Jeffries knew for sure that Bradley had never touched her.

Everything with the Navy took time. Mav was a big help, but a report would need to be written up for formal action. And now Bradley would need to notify someone about the new message Indigo sent with the world's worst timing, but meanwhile he was supposed to carry on like everything was completely normal.

As soon as daylight broke, he rubbed his exhaustion away from his eyes. He wanted to get to base to shower and change into the clean flight suit he kept in his locker, but he had to make sure you knew he spent the whole night in the Bronco first. So Bradley waited until he saw movement inside. Just a quick flick of the living room curtain, but he was sure you saw him. Nevertheless, he sent a text.

I'm leaving for work. If you want to talk, come find me, and I'll clear my schedule. We'll figure this out. We have to, because I can't live without you. I love you.

He didn't expect you to respond right away. He stretched, his body positively aching from sitting in one spot for so long before he started the engine. His stomach growled as he drove, reminding him he didn't get to enjoy what you cooked for dinner last night. He'd been missing dinner too often. It was almost Halloween, and the two of you should have been planning a costume for Rose to wear. He should have been working on an anniversary getaway for November. He'd been fucking up a lot for someone who wasn't aware he was doing it, but he certainly wasn't an adulterer. 

The locker room was empty as he changed out of his wrinkly uniform and slipped under the hot shower stream. Nothing was going to make him feel better if you didn't trust him. Once again, he thought about you throwing all your fancy kitchen gadgets in a box and leaving without a backward glance in his direction. Bradley's hands shook, and he didn't know how he'd make it through the day at this rate.

As he pulled on his flight suit, he thought about going up to your office to wait for you to arrive. But he'd end up on his knees again, begging you to stay with him, and that wasn't what you needed to hear right now. He was exhausted, but he tried to clear his mind and think of some way to convince you he would never do anything to hurt you. But if Indigo already made comments directly to you, it felt like all hope was lost.

The walk to his office was long, but not long enough for inspiration to strike. Maybe Nat could give him some advice. She'd been harping on about girl code the other day. As much as he hated to admit it, Jake might be a helpful ally right now. He was a big fan of yours, and always quick to remind Bradley he'd married way out of his league.

He settled in behind his desk, unable to look away from the wedding photo for a few minutes. You looked perfect that day. You were perfect every day. There was no doubt you'd be perfect without him, but he didn't want you going anywhere unless you took him, too.

"Fuck," Bradley gasped, lungs burning with the effort to hold back his tears. His students would be sitting down to take a practicum exam shortly. He didn't necessarily need to be there, but it would look good if he was. But he'd also have to face Indigo in the classroom. Maverick was still up in Lemoore, and he was the only one who knew Bradley filed a formal complaint.

This was all exhausting. Nausea and fatigue waged war in his body as Bradley stumbled to his feet once again. He needed something to drink. Some cold water. He threw his office door open wide and walked back up the hallway to the small lounge where he grabbed a water bottle and downed it in one go. Panting, he took a second one before slowly heading back the way he came.

He didn't even feel better as he started sweating profusely. He wanted you. He wanted you to let him hold you. He wanted to kiss Rose. 

His office door was just a few feet away when he heard her voice.

"Lieutenant Commander Bradshaw."

The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end, fingers wrapping around the bottle so aggressively, he was afraid it would explode in his hand. He'd been told to keep his distance for now, but clearly Indigo was none the wiser as she followed him right inside his office.

"Sir," she said, voice bold and unbothered. "I thought we could walk to the classroom together."

Bradley spun and looked at her. He really shouldn't be surprised at this point. He also shouldn't be talking to her alone in his office, but she was standing there expectantly, blinking those eyes up at him.

"Unless you're not ready to head over yet...."

Her words trailed off as she casually reached for the door, fingers grazing the wood.

"Do not close that door," Bradley barked, surprising himself with his angry tone. Indigo's hand dropped to her side, eyes wide, but she took a step closer as he backed up until he hit his desk. He managed to set the water bottle down, chest rising and falling rapidly. He shouldn't be talking to her, but he couldn't help himself as he shook his head. "What is your problem?"

She cocked her head slightly, a hesitant smile on her lips. "Sir?"

Bradley skirted along past his desk as she tracked him. "I don't understand why you're trying to ruin my life," he hissed.

Indigo froze before bursting into delighted laughter that set his teeth on edge. "Ruin your life? I can assure you, Sir, I would like nothing more than to have a very good time with you."

Any warmth remaining in Bradley's body vanished, leaving him sweaty and shivering. "That's not appropriate," he gasped. "You're reporting to me through Top Gun, and I'm married."

She rolled her eyes and muttered, "This was a lot easier last time."

"You've done this before?" Bradley asked, eyes darting to the door and empty hallway beyond, wishing he'd just gone to your office instead. 

"I like older men," Indigo replied sweetly. "Ones with lots of pins on their uniforms. And they've always been agreeable before."

"Unbelievable," Bradley groaned, ready to throw away all of his insignia pins and run away. "Lieutenant Jeffries, I have never laid a finger on you. We've never been alone in here with the door closed, ever."

"But you wanted to. You can admit it," she whispered, reaching once more for the door.

"Are you out of your mind?" Bradley's voice shook, but it was loud enough that she froze again. "You think I would jeopardize my marriage for you? My family? The thought never crossed my mind!"

Indigo licked her lips. "I've seen your wife. She's pregnant again. And she's -"

"She's perfect," Bradley barked, eyes blazing as he glanced at the wedding photo. "Do not talk about her. Ever." He squeezed his eyes closed and squared his shoulders before glaring at Indigo. "Get the fuck out of my office."

He was afraid she wasn't going to listen, the way she stood there and stared at him in surprise. But Bradley had nothing left. His fingers were shaking, and he was sure he was going to vomit. She finally turned and marched from the room with her chin in the air, and Bradley turned to face his desk.

Panic like he never felt before filled his veins. He had no idea what he was supposed to do now as he gripped the edge of his desk and stared down at his boots. His body shook with silent sobs as he tried to catch his breath, but his brain couldn't seem to get past the fact that his life was in absolute ruins.

"Oh, God," he gasped, lifting his head in time to see his office door move a few inches. Before he could fully register what was happening, you popped out from behind it and carefully pushed it closed.

"Sweetheart?" he croaked, examining your tear-streaked cheeks before you stumbled closer to him.

Why were you in his office? You were crying, working your hands in front of your pregnant belly as you whispered, "I'm sorry, Bradley!"

When he held his arms open, you rushed into them, burying your face in his chest as you wailed. He had no idea why you were in his office, but if the end result was getting to hold you tight, he didn't need a reason. As soon as you touched him, he immediately felt better. 

"I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry," you sobbed over and over, body shaking against him. "I was so scared, and I look so awful right now. And I'm just so sorry!"

"Shhh," he coaxed softly, kissing the top of your head before letting his chin rest there. "It's okay."

"No. It's not okay," came your immediate, muffled response, arms tightening around him. "I made you sleep outside. I told you I'd leave with the girls." You looked up at him, tears brimming from your eyes. "I'm sorry I didn't believe you."

Bradley shook his head, bringing his hand up to rest on your cheek. "I'm sorry I put you through this shit. This is so fucked up."

He let you cry, wiping your tears with his thumb as they fell for the longest time. He already felt like he could figure out a way to fix everything as long as you still wanted him. 

Bradley kissed your quivering lips as you started to calm down. "Please never leave me. I'm not going to stop being in love with you. Okay? I just want my girls." With one more kiss, he whispered, "And there's nothing wrong with the way you look. You're perfect."

The smallest smile found your lips. "That's what you told Indigo."

"Baby Girl, that's what I tell everybody," he promised, relieved beyond belief that you witness that miserable exchange. "What are you doing here anyway?" he whispered, keeping you snug against him as you looked up at his face. "Not that I'm complaining, but I wasn't expecting you to want to see me."

"I came to talk to you as soon as I dropped Rose off." You wiped your tears on his flight suit as you added, "When I got here, the door was wide open, so I came inside. Then I heard her voice in the hallway. I panicked and hid behind the door."

"And I couldn't be happier that you did," he whispered.

"She really wanted to close the door."

"She really did."

"I hate her."

"Me, too," he sighed, exhausted from thinking about Indigo. He let his breathing match yours, falling into a comfortable rhythm that he didn't want to let go of yet. "I have an idea. Let's go home."

"Home?"

"Yeah. Let's go get Rose from the nursery and ditch the rest of the day. I just want to go home."

Now you were the one running your hand along his scarred cheek. "You must be exhausted." When he nodded, you said, "Okay. Let's go home, and I'll take care of you."

When you tried to pull away, Bradley kept you close. "No. I'm going to take care of you. I clearly haven't been doing enough of that since I started this position. So that's going to change immediately."

"We can take care of each other," you replied easily, but you were smiling. "I just need to talk to Cat first."

Bradley groaned softly. He was already imagining the three of you at home. He would make lunch while you fed Rose, and then everyone could take a long nap. He just wanted everything to feel normal again. 

"Why do you need Cat first?"

You laced your fingers with his and started to tug him toward the door. "To get the ball rolling on Indigo's spectacular downfall."

"What?" Bradley's eyebrows shot up. "I just inadvertently managed to clear my name, and you already formulated a plan?"

You waved your free hand in the air. "It's like half a plan at best, but it's coming together." You paused. "You know what? I'll just call Cat when we get home. I'm sure we can handle it from there. I really want to snuggle with you, and I'm starving."

Bradley made sure the door locked behind him. "I am in awe of you," he murmured, letting you lead him down the hallway.

"Nobody messes with my husband."

--------------------------------

You felt alive again for the first time in weeks. You were thriving. Bradley never let you out of his sight as he made lunch and burped Rose. He put her down in her crib, wrapped you in his arms, and led you toward the promise of an afternoon nap.

"Wait, Cat's calling me back," you whispered, watching his face fall as he tried to get you to the bedroom. "It'll just take a minute."

"I can barely keep my eyes open," he murmured, kissing your cheek before you backed away. "Just come in when you're done."

You watched him turn to the bedroom, pulling his undershirt over his head as he went. The temptation of his warm body wrapped around yours was almost too much to fight, but when you thought about Indigo, you wanted to punch a hole in the wall. Or her face.

"Hi."

"Where are you?" Cat asked. "I thought I saw you in the parking lot this morning, and now you're magically nowhere to be found."

"I'm at home," you told her quickly. "Hey, how close are you to finishing the new code for the Super Hornet updates?"

There was a beat of silence. "Not that close. We aren't rolling out the updates until the end of the year. It'll ground some of the pilots."

You smiled to yourself. "I want to start doing it sooner."

"Sooner?" she asked, confused. "How much sooner?"

"Tomorrow."

---------------------------------

Hearing that straight from Indigo had to make BG feel so much better! Is this me being nicer? Beginning to mend things? Stay tuned.

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[uniasus]

Bruce doesn't like meeting members from JLD as Bruce instead of Batman, but he doesn't have much of a choice. Doesn't have much to contribute to the fight either.

Jasmine Nightingale original attack had been devastating, a cat five hurricane released on the Hall of Justice whose concentrated power pulverized stone. Heroes died, some quick, some not. Only Zatanna had seen it coming, seconds before the lightening strike.

J'onn had responded with a blast from the Watchtower.

The energy beam had made the Ghost Queen stumble, but ultimately she had absorbed the blast and turned it back on the Justice League, lightening downing flyers from the sky. Clark had dropped quickly, denting part of the collapsed roof.

The Ghost Queen wielded magic, more than anyone else on Earth. Worse, when Diana had tried to get a hit in, Zatanna had stepped up to protect Jasmine.

That fight had been the first of three, each one devastating to the League and people of Earth. Jasmine Nightingale did not care about her civilians and some of her ghostly allies took glee in attacking them. Few people in the League could stand up to the Realms forces. None could win a fight.

And JLD fights for the ghosts.

Hence, Bruce Wayne and John Constantine planning a meet in a dive bar in Kansas. It's too removed from population centers for Jasmine to target, and Bruce and John can blend in well enough.

Bruce watches John slink in, collar up. He looks more wan than usual, and he unexpectedly has a kid with him. Bruce does his best to not look at Jason and Dick, not talking in a booth across the bar. Something about the ghost army calls to Jason, and he's developed a sixth sense to tell if they're near. Bruce wonders if the kid with John is the same.

Bruce pulls on his wrist in an overhead stretch, and John sees him. He marches over, nervous in a way that's unfamiliar. Bruce doesn't like it.

John sits across from him, kid on the outside edge of the booth. Before he can ask, the waiter is there. Bruce orders around of water for the table, and the kid pips up asking for a milkshake. Bruce let's him.

As soon as he can, Bruce leans forward to hide their conversation. "I need you to explain right now why JLD is not fighting for Earth."

"We are. Sorta," John insists.

"There's at least a dozen photos of Zatanna fighting side by side with the Ghost Zone. I've seen you summon at least two demons. Captain Marvel seems to be her rear guard -" the boy coughs. Bruce eyes him before continuing. "So please, explain."

John runs a hand through his hair. "My personal situation aside...a few things you should know. First, having Dark's help? Wouldn't win this war. Jasmine Nightingale is Queen Regent of the Infinite Realms and Earth? Part of her realms. The only reason we're not cooked is because she's looking for someone."

"Her younger brother."

"Right. Zatanna figured it'd be in Earth's best interest, long term, for the Realms to know not everyone is against them and to separate us from the League. Because the second thing you should know? The League does have her brother."

Bruce frowns.

The kid pulls out a file from his hoodie pocket. It's bent, but Bruce recognizes the file. He blanches.

It's one of the first prisoners files the League has. Someone near Chicago had called in a glowing boy causing trouble, and the League had captured him. He'd been a mystery, hard to contain and hard to capture on film. J'onn couldn't understand his mind, and he'd been difficult to communicate with. Bruce remembers hours trying to understand him, only to come to the conclusion that he'd been something mimicking a teen. It's been years since he thought about him, but the blurry prisoner photo has the same quality as those in the news featuring Jasmine Nightingale.

The file states he's still a prisoner, ten years after his first capture. The log records says no one has visited him in three years.

He's still locked in a cell, twenty feet below the Hall of Justice in a prison block that's been abandoned.

"Jazz," the kid says, "came to Earth and followed a sense to find him at the Hall. That sense disappeared when she destroyed it."

"There's lock down protocols to prevent escape. I bet they activated as soon as she attacked, blocking her ability to find him."

"You think he's still there?" John asks. "She thinks you're hiding him, purposefully keeping him trapped."

"I," Bruce swallows. He'd thought the poltergeist a human mimic, a devious being unwilling to talk and stubborn enough to resist interrogation. Now, he realizes the prisoner was most likely scared and lost.

"I forgot about him," Bruce whisperer. "We never keep prisoners very long unless they're dangerous."

"He is," the kid says. "Once crowned, he'll have more power than Jazz."

"But he never displayed that when we captured him. We..."

John leans forward. "You wanna know Zatanna's plan to win this war before it stretches out any further? The League digs up Prince Daniel and hands him over. You surrender."

"We're the scapegoat," Bruce whisperers. Because JLD could have noticed Daniel and free him early. They could have negotiated. They could have fought against the ghosts. Zatanna could have stood in the way of Jasmine's first storm.

"She sees you as the enemy and JLD as allies," the kid says. "And her control over the Realms limits what some of us can do," he looks over at John and Bruce wonders if one of his soul contacts is with the Queen of Ghosts.

"She could destroy Earth in a day," the kid rubs a hand down his face and Bruce stares, trying to place it, "destroying the Justice League is less damage."

"Plus," John adds, "You do have her brother."

Bruce knows part of being Batman means putting his life on the line, but this is so much bigger.

"Can we negotiate terms of surrender?"

The kid nods. "Captain Marvel is willing. John can't and Zatanna is too close to Jazz. We don't want her to feel betrayed or that we've been hiding things from her."

Bruce nods. If Jasmine wants the entire League as recomputence, than JLD will be Earth's only defense.

Minimizing damage has never been this difficult. "I'll talk to the others."

"Send a bird to Fawcett with your terms."

The "Prisoner" of the Justice League

DP x DC Prompt

Near the beginning of the Justice League's time, they had acquired a 'prisoner' of sorts. The 'prisoner' is an entity that Mimics a human teenage boy. They have snow white hair that flows as if in the wind or underwater, and they wear a mostly black and white hazmat suit with a stylized D on their chest.

Batman was the only one who had interrogation skills, so he was the go-to for interrogation for their 'prisoner'. Batman had remained in the underground cell block in the Hall of Justice for hours before returning, the sounds of the 'prisoner' banging against his cell continues, with Batman saying he couldn't get anything out of their 'prisoner'.

Things get really busy for the Justice League after Batman attempts to interrogate their 'prisoner' a few more times. It gets so busy that everyone slowly forget that they have a 'prisoner' since his banging had stopped after half a year in their cell. Even Batman, who has become a 'Tired Dad,' forgot about the prisoner under the Hall of Justice.

When JLD is formed, they are told that they can't help out much, as the entirety of JLD is searching for the missing Prince of the Infinite Realms, which causes them to not be near the Hall of Justice.

A couple of years after the emergence of the newest Robin and Superman's son is when the Justice League is reminded of their 'Prisoner'.

Jasmine Nightingale, the Ghostly Queen Regent of the Infinite Realms, had come to their world in search of her brother, the Crown Prince of the Infinite Realms. She followed the faint bond she had with her brother, and the League members were baffled that it led them to the Hall of Justice, specifically, the cell block where their 'Prisoner' is, who still looks like a teenage boy, despite how many years past.

[revelboo]

Great monarch Revelboo if I ask you nicely could you please assign me a mech to cuddle 🥰 I can’t decide who I would want to cuddle with the most! Which mechs would enjoy it the most and which would enjoy it but refuse to admit it? ty ty you are the best 👑

Ahh! Love this 💕

Cuddle Time Headcanons

ES Wheeljack

- tries his hardest to convince you that you don’t actually want to cuddle with him. Painfully awkward guy, but he just gives up and allows it if you insist. Secretly loves it even if he’s embarassed

• Optics wide, he freezes when you just climb up into his lap and sit down. Like you belong there. And then you’re leaning into him and he hears Elita and Optimus make noises that sound suspiciously like badly suppressed laughter. Surely you’d rather sit with someone else? No? Embarrassed enough even before you lean into him with a happy little sigh. Venting softly, he loosely drapes a hand against you, freezing when you latch onto a servo and snuggle against his palm. Apparently no one wants to help him and he has no idea why you’ve latched onto him. Chosen him as your protector and safe spot. And okay, maybe it makes warmth spread through him, makes him want to protect you. But they’re all still staring at him and not even hiding that they think it’s funny. They have to realize he’s not cut out for this.

Bluestreak

- aware that he can be clingy, but if you encourage or just don’t tell him to stop, he just wants to cuddle with you.

• Servos flexing because you’d gone to sleep curled in your nest of blankets while he’d been out too late. And knows he shouldn’t disturb you when you look so relaxed, but still slides his servos under you. Hears the soft, sleepy sound you make, head lifting before you realize it’s him and relax in his hands. Lying down curled on his side, he cuddles you up against his chassis and folds his door wings out behind him. Cups a hand against you, chin tucked against his chassis and legs drawn up until he’s curled around you as much as he can. Letting the warmth of you keep the nightmares at bay.

Swerve

- if you give him permission to cuddle or just seek out his body heat, he’s all for it. But the narrative in his head is probably that you’re deeply, madly in love with him, not just cold

• Startling when you drape yourself against him, eyes closed and making a pitiful little noise of misery, he mass shifts for you, arms open wide. “Cold again?” He asks, feeling almost guilty that he’d been cutting down the temperature in his habsuite on purpose just so you’d curl up against him. And you just sprawl in his arms, letting him wrap himself around you. “I’ll file a complaint with Mags, let him know there’s something wrong with the heat again,” he lies, resting his chin on top of your head. And it’s just a little, bitty lie. You understand, right? Getting used to the pulse of his spark just like he’s used to the beat of your heart. And pretending you’re his, that you want to be in his arms. That you know you belong right here.

Jazz

- wants you to read one of your smutty books to him, promising he’ll behave while you sprawl on top of him

• “Hand,” you mutter as he drapes a hand over you, one servo on your butt. “Jazz.” And his crooked grin is completely unapologetic. Even if he’d promised to behave. Huffing, you flip open the book to the page you’d folded the corner of the night before. You swear he likes these cheesy romance novels more than you do as you begin to read to him, relaxing with the feel of his warmth against you, sprawled on him.

Hound

- wants to share with you the vast, green world outside the Ark. To curl up with you by a lake and relax

• “Oh.” The area’s heavily wooded, sun lancing through the leaves to dapple the mass shifted mech in gold as you look from him to the calm lake. Realizing that he’s sharing this with you, something that matters to him and his arms come around you, tugging you back into his frame. And you relax, feeling the heat of the sun and warmth of the mech at your back. “It’s beautiful.” Playing with his servos as his chin rests on top of your head.

TFA Bulkhead

- big, awkward guy. Lets you sprawl on top of him, a big hand draped over you as you both watch TV and whisper (and Sari and Bee both complain)

• Laughing as he slowly goes over backwards and you end up sprawled on top of him, he drapes a big hand over you, head back to watch the TV upside down. Laying your chin on him as a big servo runs between your shoulder blades, you can hear Sari and Bee’s loud ‘ewww’ at you both. It’s not like you’re making out, but they’re carrying on like you are and you reach to touch Bulkhead’s chin. Relaxed and comfortable where you are.

Armada Starscream

- wouldn’t admit that he needs the feel of you, your scent and warmth against him to be able to recharge. If you want to cuddle up against him, he allows it. Won’t ask for it even though a part of him loves it

• Venting he doesn’t resist when you and the mini-cons all sprawl on him. There’s no fighting it at this point, acting as your bed. Suspects you’re only after his warmth, but he doesn’t really mind having you there. Recharges better knowing where you are, feeling your heart beating against him. Because this is as close to home and family as he’s had in forever. Wants to protect this feeling, to hold onto it.

[aimfor-theheart]

mafia au with bodyguard vi i am gnawing on the bars of my enclosure

anon i’m trying to distract myself on this flight so here take this little drabble bc i can’t get bodyguard!vi out of my mind ��

***

You laze at your vanity, languid like a cat; taking your time to get ready. Your hair is half undone. You’re still in your sheer, dark tights and bra—some jewelry hanging from your bare skin, some still scattered on the vanity in front of you. Your martini glass gleams alongside the pearls in the lowlight of your bedroom.

You’re powdering your face when someone knocks.

“Come in,” You say, despite your state of undress.

When Vi enters, you catch her eyes in the reflection of your vanity mirror.

She curses a little, averting her gaze. You smile, slow and mischievous.

“You know, usually when people are undressed, they don’t tell someone to stroll into their bedroom.” Vi remarks.

“Oh, but I knew it was you.” You respond innocently.

She huffs a bit of a laugh. You see a muscle feather in her jaw. She’s still looking away from you, but there’s something in her face—it lurks around the edges of her expression, like she’s trying to keep it hidden.

(Hunger looks good on her.)

“I’m your bodyguard, princess. I should be standing outside your door while you get ready like this.” She says and you’ve found that she likes to tell you about what she should do with you. She likes to tell you what’s proper, as you lure her into something improper.

“Oh, relax. Have a drink, would you?” You retort, lifting your martini glass to her in the mirror as if to demonstrate. You take a sip, lemon twist and flowery gin hit your tongue in a cool burst. “I wanted company while I finish getting ready.”

She lets go of a hard sigh. “You’re trying to get me killed. Your father would have my head.”

“Good thing he’s not around tonight, then.” You hum, finally returning to your preening and powdering.

“Would you at least put on some clothes for me?” Vi asks the ceiling and really it’s almost—funny, how chivalrous she’s trying to be. Gentlemanly. She still hasn’t looked your way.

Well, that won’t do.

“Don’t tell me you’re shy.” You coo, finally turning from the mirror to face her. “Not with your reputation…”

She barks out a laugh.

“I’m being paid to protect you.” Vi reiterates and you think, at this point, she’s reminding herself more than you.

“So you can’t keep me company while I get ready?” You ask sweetly.

Her eyes cut to you before she can stop herself, a flash of blue lighting. When she takes you in, it’s with a hitched breath. Her eyes skip down the curves of your body. She looks away again.

“You’re not sly, sweetheart. I know your game.” Vi says, dragging a hand through her hair, tousling it further.

You let go of an overdramatic sigh, “Fine, fine. I’ll dress.”

And with that, you saunter to your wardrobe, where the slinky little dress you’ll be wearing tonight hangs. It’s midnight purple, shimmering like dark water at night. You pull it from the hanger and carefully slip it on. But in the back, it hangs open, zipper undone.

Your eyes cut to Vi—she’s still turned away and you trace the broad lines of her back. The sliver of her tattoo that starts at the nape of her neck.

“Vi,” You say her name so lightly, “will you help me?”

When she looks at you, it’s of the open back of your dress, all your bare skin and the silk. The lacy back of your bra—the shadow of your matching panties beneath the tights. You peek over your shoulder demurely.

Vi swallows hard.

But still, she approaches. Her footsteps are slow, heavy. And then she’s behind you and you can almost feel her, feel her warmth. You stay perfectly still for her—waiting, breath held—

The touch of her fingers against the bare skin of your lower back makes your lashes flutter. She takes the zipper in hand. With her other hand, she smoothes the fabric of the dress, palm open against the curve of your waist.

Slowly, she pulls the zipper up along your spine.

When she’s done, she settles that hand on your waist, too. Holds you.

“You’re such trouble.” She murmurs, squeezes a little into the soft give of your hips.

“I just needed your help.” You say, bedroom soft.

This little, frustrated groan works its way out of her throat. Your stomach flips, thinking of what it might sound against your throat, or inner thighs. She hangs her head and for a moment, you think she might close the rest of the distance, might let her lips fall to the nape of your neck, or press her chest all against your back—

Instead, she’s gone. Hands off you, held up like she’s trying to show she’s innocent, as she takes a few steps away from you.

She sinks into one of your loveseats—the one that faces the vanity.

“Finish getting ready, princess.”

And for once, you listen to her. You finish pinning your hair. You finish your makeup and add your jewelry. You drink the rest of your martini, the warmth of alcohol hitting you sweet and hot, somewhere in your chest.

When you’re finished, you nudge your stocking clad foot in her direction.

She knows, instantly and moves to you. She eases to one knee, and takes one of your heels in hand. She pulls your foot into her lap, then she deftly eases the shoe onto your foot. She buckles the strap around your ankle dutifully. She does the other one with the same, methodical devotion.

She looks up at you from her knees, your ankle still held in her rough palm. “Happy?” She asks.

“Endlessly.” Your smile is a cat’s curve, a crescent moon.

“You’re so spoiled.” Vi says, adjusting the strap of your heel, so it sits perfectly.

“I like to be taken care of, that’s all.” You say primly.

She snorts at that, and squeezes your ankle in her strong hand. “Princess?” She says, eyes dark and imploring, looking up at you—

It’s such a good look on her. Like this, on her knees.

“Hm?”

She stands slowly, now towering over you. You slowly tip your head back to look up at her. And she even takes your chin in hand, makes you hold her eyes.

“Don’t run off tonight.” She warns.

Your smile turns sharp—eyes dancing with mischief.

“But you always did love a good chase.”

(Hunger looks good on her.)

[skhv67]

SFW and NSFW Relationship Headcanons with Nam-gyu and Thanos / Choi Su-bong

wc: 2k words overall

tw: NSFW (only +18 please), substance abuse topics, fluff, angst

nam-gyu

• SO, in the beginning this man is not gonna trust you in the slightest no matter how friendly and nice you seem. BUT he won't appear distrustful, if anything he's gonna be friendly with you to see what you have to offer that he could take from you.

• No love at first sight, I don't think he usually thinks outside business or convenience, so it's possible that in the beginning he uses you for his benefit. But as he gets to know you, the connection deepens and he stops seeing you as an object, he's down horrendous.

• Not a single person around him will not know about you, I feel he talks about their partner to anyone willing to listen to him.

• His love language would be physical touch and gift giving. Hands on you ALLLLL the time, he's CLINGY clingy. He'd also use the contacts he makes from the club to take you to cool or fancy places or get you expensive stuff.

• Unfortunately he's an addict and of hard drugs so this will affect his mood and life style 100% in the worst ways. I doubt he'd stop even for his partner because he's exposed to these substances in his job at the club all the time. Still, he doesn't seem the type to offer you to join him in this, the most he could do is offer you weed as a one time thing to have some extra fun.

• Will probably try to sabotage the relationship constantly because of his addiction, because he believes you deserve something better or because he's having insecure thoughts against you. Reasure him!! Drugs can make you paranoid and fuck your mind up so he's gonna need tons of reassurance that what's on his mind is not real and that you love him.

• Unfortunately it will be impossible to not find him during a trip. He's obviously happy when he's not sober, but I think if he was with you during these moments he'd feel guilty and try to harm you verbally to make you leave him or will just hurt himself.

• Suuuuuper prideful. If you've hurt him or you've argued he's definitely more prone to be hostile and close off instead of trying to solve the problem. Like the scene of him eating Thanos pills after he died, he'd probably dismiss your importance in his life to try to make himself feel better about the situation (he fails). He'd probably need someone super patient and understanding of his personality so this doesn't end up in a break up.

• Despite this I feel there's gonna be a lot of splits during the relationship, ypull be apart at least for a few days until one reaches out. He'd rather die than calling you while he's sober to ask you to come back but this man is definitely calling you during an episode and begging you to go help him.

• Masks his pain and protects his true feelings with desdain. In his worst moments (never to your face of course, only when he's using substances by himself), he will insult you and make himself think he's better off without you. This is only a way of self harm, he'd probably sob after thinking that because he'll make himself believe you don't love him and that he's not enough for you.

• Might look like he only looks for his own benefit (which he usually does with most people) but if you've won a spot in his heart he's such a puppy. He'd give you whatever you asked, and he's so soft spoken and sweet when it's just the two of you.

• If you're down for it, he'd want at least one subtle matching tattoo. He's already got a few and as soon as he realizes his feelings he'll be wanting to have you in his skin the very next day (and it'll happen even if you don't want to match with him).

• Hes the jealous type but he won't show it in public. The most he'd do if he got jealous in public would be not talking to you until you're home. A toxic trait of his is that when he's jealous he gets mad at you instead of the other person. He's aware it's not your fault, it's just a reaction of his insecurity.

• If you're ever sad or have a problem he'd handle it. He's not good with words or feelings so his way of comforting would be trying to get revenge on whatever has made you sad. If it's no one's fault he'd be a bit more awkward about it but he'd just hug you until you stop crying.

NSFW

• Heavily sexually driven relationship. He's the type to be infatuated with someone to the point to wanting to be inside their skin and what better way to do that than through sex :D Obviously he won't want you just for this but he sees sex as the most perfect way to show his feelings. He usually struggles with talking about his feelings sober, so this is the easiest way for him to be vulnerable with you.

• He's quite sadistic and if he feels safe with you he'll be less scared of showing this side to you. He loooves calling you slut or whore and overall has quite a degrading dirty talk. If you're sensitive he'll try to bargain about praising you while still using degrading pet names but he's totally fine with dropping this and leaving this side of him outside bed business if you sit down with him and reject it.

• Please fuck this man at least once while you're high. He doesn't want you to do this stuff often like he does but give him a treat every once in a while

• He's into sexting, specially when he's outside hanging with people or working because he's bored out of his mind. Spam this poor man with pics wearing revealing clothes (doesn't ask for nudes just in case he loses his phone) and he'd be texting you the nastiest shit in the middle of a hangout. The best part of this is that this man can't have a poker face for his life so you can clearly picture him smiling and trying to cover his face while looking at his screen.

• Loves worshipping you but let's be honest here, this man loves being praised. He doesn't ever feel appreciated enough so talk about how much you need him and he'll have a boner before you finish talking. If you praise him while he's degrading you in bed he might get a bit shocked at first and even a little shy but this will make him cockier and more confident in himself, which translates in more pleasure for you

• Treats you like royalty during aftercare. And once he's finished and goes back to bed with you, take advantage of how soft he is before he comes back to his shell. Maybe trace his freckles or his tattoos and caress him tenderly and you might even make him want to cry.

choi su-bong / thanos

• This man does NOT have a type, he will try to get with you no matter what. Girly? Into it. Masculine? Into it. Soft spoken? Into it. You curse like a sailor? Into it. You even dare to be unappealing to him? Don't careeee

• In the beginning it's gonna be like all the other relationships or flings he's had: chasing after you trying to charm his way into getting a date. He probably won't even think at first that you're gonna be so special to him but when you two connect he will make you know from minute one that you two are already together.

• He's quite shallow. Not in the sense that he will only care about your looks but they're important to him. As he doesn't have a type, this doesn't mean he won't like you if you don't fit with certain beauty canons, don't worry.

• Quite more thoughtful and softer than Nam-gyu. He might be a bit self absorbed but he's still quite understanding of feelings and he'd handle you with utmost care always.

• It's absolutely impossible having an argument or being mad at this man. Unless you betray him tremendously (please don't), a relationship with him is quite lighthearted and you won't have to be walking on eggshells around him because he never takes anything too seriously.

• Once you two make it official this man is putting you in all his music videos and cd covers. He won't be scared to show you off to his fans either, or to anyone. There's no louder man in this world so you better believe everybody's gonna hear about you (mainly against their will).

• His love language is words of affirmation but you probably expected it because this man is yapper3000. Expect corny improvised raps about you and just pick up lines even when you're already together. Will be flirty with you most of the time so don't worry about the relationship getting dull at some point (he'll make sure it won't).

• He's a user but I feel like he doesn't let it be a problem for him like Nam-gyu does. He sure uses substances for stress or when he's in pain but mainly for fun, and it doesn't really leave any awful consequences on him. It wouldn't affect your relationship and he would be quite protective with you about it, he wouldn't even let you try them under any circumstances. If you already do drugs, he still will worry about you but won't say anything about it unless it gets serious.

• Lives for impressing you, he loves to get a geniune praise or reaction from you. He'd probably push himself to be better just to make you proud of him, because he has you in a bigger pedestal than himself.

• He might be disrespectful to other people but if he loves you best believe you're never getting rid of him, he's the most loyal person you're gonna meet. Won't say a bad word about you under any circumstances and will make sure you know where he stands with you.

• I'm deeply sorry for you if this man gets jealous in public because he's gonna make a scene. He's definitely gonna try to fight the other person to 'defend your honor' so please keep this kid out of trouble.

NSFW

• You could quite literally convince this man to do whatever the fuck you want during sex, seriously. He obviously has his own kinks but whatever you want to try he's up for it. He won't be weirded out about anything and is willing to take whatever role you propose him.

• Make out king. He loves sex but what he loves more than sex is starting it. Both the initial make out and the foreplay are where you'll find him enjoy himself the most. Might elongate the make out session just to do some dry humping tbh, he won't feel ashamed of cumming in his pants. Geniunely, try to make this man ashamed of anything, I dare you

• The give and take is quite balanced in your relationship but he'd be lying if he said he doesn't have a preference for being between your legs. As I said he's more into foreplay than sex itself so good luck when he's trying to get the seventh orgasm out of you only with his tongue.

• The sex is QUITE dynamic... He's too active, the most slow he's gonna be is when you're making out. Enjoy getting manhandled to the moon and back, and good luck with the next day's leg pains.

• Quite chill with aftercare, probably cracking jokes or trying to make you laugh just being himself while he cleans you up. Will watch some TV with you or play some games when you're both finished because he's still quite active.

dividers credit: muffiinss

[nymphaea-blue]

How would Rafayel be as your lover?

Info : 700+ word count, inspired by Radiant Halo - tender moments, fluff, slight mentions of possessive Rafayel, reader wears makeup.

﹒　⁺ Rafayel as your lover would not hesitate to spend money on you, he has more than enough. He would take you on expensive dates, buy you designer clothes (or design some for you himself) and buy you gifts on a weekly basis because he can, and he is more than happy to spoil you a little.

﹒　⁺ Rafayel as your lover would often help you with your makeup and clothing. He knows how to do makeup, so all you need to do is ask and he will do it with no hesitation. It's an intimate moment, one would think, with how Rafayel always looks at you when he does your makeup and helps you get ready. It's a small, domestic action but he truly cares about your comfort and he wants you to shine as brightly as possible.

“Try not to blink, cutie. We don’t want you to look like you have a blackeye the entire evening, right?” Rafayel teased you as he did your eye makeup. You were used to doing your makeup on your own, but this is a feeling you were slowly growing accustomed to as well. “Okay. Open up your eyes for me, I need to see if your eyeliner is symmetrical.” And you did as he asked, but your face immediately flushed as you noticed how close to your face he was and you couldn’t help but admire him. His face carried his signature smile that you adored and his eyes stared at you with so much love as they looked around your face, so focused on the task but also focused on you as a whole. You didn’t know you were staring until he spoke again. “It looks pretty symmetrical to me, come on, let’s go… Whatcha staring at, hm?” 

﹒　⁺ Rafayel as your lover would paint you many, many times. Most of the pieces are in his home, those are the ones that are more detailed or show your precious moments spent together, he loves to look at them and cherish how you look. A few rare paintings of you would be in galleries for others to watch, especially during his big exhibitions. Those ones are just mere representations of you, still painted with love but a mist of secrets as well, you aren't shown in full detail but everyone knows it's you. None of the pieces showcasing you ever get sold, no matter how much they want to pay for it. He wouldn't be able to deal with it if someone could just stare at you all day, you are just his after all.

﹒　⁺ Rafayel as your lover would protect you. He hired you as his bodyguard but with time, he finds himself doing that job more often. No matter how small it is, if you get uncomfortable or are in danger he will be by your side - no questions asked. He would fight for you, if he had to. Those hands aren’t just for art after all, they are perfect for holding you after a rough moment as well, and they can deliver punches too if someone dares to even try to get their hands on you without your permission.

﹒　⁺ Rafayel as your lover would have a whole room cleared for you in his home, just in case you would like to move in. Of course, if you are comfortable you are more than welcome to sleep in his room, the bed is big enough anyways and if not - then after a while of being dramatic he can sleep on the couch… or in the bathtub, for some reason.

﹒　⁺ Rafayel as your lover would be such a gentleman. He always opens the doors for you, no matter if you are entering a restaurant or just sitting down in the passenger seat of his luxurious car. He will gently take off your coat and hang it on the back of your chair, alongside your purse which he will happily carry later if your shoulder starts hurting. Whenever he wants to ask you for a dance, he will offer you a hand first with a polite “May I?”. Whenever you are out during a more serious occasion, he has everything you might need in his car or nearby - a change of shoes, bandaids, your makeup essentials, as well as a matching coat or something to cover you up if you get cold. He might not always act seriously and his demeanor can be playful, but when it comes to love, he does it right and it’s clear with the way he acts around you as if you are the most precious thing in the world, because to him - you are.

[annabelle--cane]

(ao3)

The best part is, it’s not even a lie.

The words drop from her mouth like rotten dates as she kneels on the ground outside that hideous portal, and she doesn’t even have to lie.

“He was protecting me, that Archivist thing tried to, to drink up my memories, and he tackled it, I think, and both of them must have fallen--and I passed out.”

Alice doesn’t break down. It’s written over every inch of her face that she wants to, and Celia can feel it in her body’s tension when she’s pulled in close, but she just about holds it together. Not stoic and steely, but on the move. Not giving into despair. She keeps up a good natter as they start their return-trip.

“This wormhole or whatever, it’s come up in loads of cases going back years, right? And Gwen says that Lena’s been, well, a lot more hands-on then she looks, so she must know something about it, must be able to help. You can, just, go back home and rest, try to sleep off some of the panic with your kid, and I’ll go track down Lena. We can get started on fixing this.”

Celia nods, waiting on the train platform. If Sam comes back then the universe would be back out of balance, she’d have to start all over again. Pick someone new to spend months with and slowly gain their trust to the point where they ignore all her secrets and convince themself it was their idea to go to the Hilltop.

No, she stops her mind mid-thought. No, it was Sam’s idea. She was always careful to wait until he said the word, let him take the lead, she never pushed. Even earlier today, he brought up going to Oxford, he ignored the danger, he insisted on it being just the two of them, he almost made her physically restrain him before she finally backed down. And she told him that it was dangerous. Said not to thank her.

It’s not a lie. She didn’t do it. She didn’t kill him.

Her memory isn’t clear, as soon as her story started projecting out of her it had been like she was back in her Hell again. Like she was losing everything that meant anything to her again. Her name, her mind, her memories, everything about who she was, right back to year dot again. Her greatest fear--no, her greatest Fear made manifest once again, returning to that neverending torment of being eternally unmade over and over every time she managed to pull together any scrap of self. She can’t remember who she was before, but she knows damn well who she is today, and she actually likes being Celia. In that moment, she knew that she would do anything to avoid being sent back to that place. She could not let it happen.

Then, as she’d been rescued from her Hell the first time, she was saved once again. She heard more than saw Sam leap at the creature. And then she woke up and Alice was there. Perfect. She didn’t even have to make the call. Everything she wanted, all with her hands still clean.

They tremble as she takes her seat in the carriage.

She darts a glance at her companion, and Alice’s eyes are glued to the window like she’s scanning for someone, just making sure there’s no one rushing after them.

Celia likes Alice. Sam had liked Alice, too, even if the relationship had been vexed. And Sam had liked Celia enough to save her and doom himself in the process despite knowing her motives. He might not even mind.

He certainly can’t mind from where he is.

Loathing herself with every word, and letting that hatred play openly over her face, Celia says, “This all feels like my fault.”

Alice snaps around towards her with vicious purpose. “Don’t say that.”

She doesn’t even have to lie. Every tear of anguish that rolls down her cheeks is completely heartfelt. “I’m the one who mentioned this place to begin with, and he sacrificed himself to protect me, if I hadn’t--”

“No,” intercuts Alice, taking both of Celia’s hands in hers. “No, I’m not having any of that from you. You’ve just lost someone--” she swallows thickly-- “We’ve both just lost someone. Not necessarily for good, mind you, but. Yeah. And Sam, he…” Her mask almost falters, her role almost giving way to her true center, but she stands her ground. “He made his own choices, alright? I know from plenty of personal experience, you can never make that man do something he doesn’t want, no matter how much you try to shield him. It’s not your fault.”

Celia’s entire insides burn up as she lets the deceptive reassurance melt into her deceptive heart. Everything about her is a facile fiction built from the ground up over the last few years, so she tries desperately to plaster this in to who she is. She tries to make the not-lie real. She listens to this woman who cares about her tell her that it’s not really her fault, and like the worm she is she curls up into herself in sobs, letting Alice pull her in for comfort. Alice strokes down her hair and it feels like hot iron on her scalp.

It’s not a lie. She didn’t do it. She didn’t kill him.

Plenty of people have managed to survive the instant starvation.

[ghostmoon1]

Task Force Headcanons

A lil writing of the boys and their anxieties and habits, slightly angsty!

Who's included? [ bc I decided to do more than just the boys ]

Simon 'Ghost' Riley, John 'Soap' MacTavish, John Price, Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick, Konig, Kate Laswell, Nikolai

CW: Angst, mentions of death, anxiety, major character death at the end.

Simon has gotten into the habit of sitting away from the rest of his team while they are doing something, whether working out or having a bit of downtime while not on deployment.

He'll just watch, he won't interact. He'll watch with a smile as Johnny lifts his weights, breathing heavily as he throws the barbell back down with a satisfied grin. He just needs to remind himself that they're all still there with him, they're all okay. He hasn't lost any of them, they are alive and happy.

If any of them notice him, he'll simply walk away. He doesn't want to distract them, he just needs to remind himself that they are there. If anyone gets wounded while on deployment he's always mentally beating himself up over it, telling himself he should've done better, he should have protected his team. It's his job to help, to protect those who can't protect themselves.

While, yes his team can protect themselves, he just can't help but feel horrible if he sees them hurt. If they get hurt bad enough, to go to the med bay or even the hospital, he'll sit by their side until they are well enough. Telling them stories to pass the time and ensuring they eat and drink. He just wants them to be okay, they're all he has.

Johnny is constantly trying to do his best, even if that means he's overworking himself. He needs to be good enough for his team, to never let them down. He's seen enough people die in front of him and he doesn't want to be that burden on his teammates.

He works out too hard, spending most of his time running laps and lifting weights. He needs to prove himself time and time again. He worked hard enough to get into the task force, he wants to make sure he deserves that place.

There have been more than enough times when Simon finds him pushing himself to the brink of exhaustion, having to stop him and remind him he needs to rest sometimes. He can't always be pushing himself, or he'll push himself to the point of no return. If he's not pushing himself, he's always doing something to distract himself.

Working on his skills in some way, or one of his favourite things, drawing. He needs to be doing something to distract himself from the horrors of his job, otherwise, those thoughts are always plaguing his thoughts and he can't deal with that. A job like this can send even the best insane.

Price is constantly doubting himself. He's the team's captain, he needs to be the best captain for the best team. But it gets hard, it's exhausting. Late nights spent doing paperwork, missing out on much-needed sleep, and one too many close calls during deployment.

His heart races whenever someone in his team gets hurt, and he wants nothing more than to rush up to them and help them. But he can't, he's the captain. He has to stay strong. Sometimes he just doesn't want to.

Sometimes the thought of retirement comes to mind, maybe a nice cottage out in the wilderness, lush gardens and picket fences. Maybe a dog, or a cat to keep him company. He knows he can't, he needs to keep fighting. Their hands remain dirty so the world can remain clean, as he always says.

Every day is a battle for him to stay, telling himself ‘one more day’ every day. In the back of his mind, he knows he won't retire. His way out of this job will be a bullet through the head if he's lucky. He's come to accept that. You can't fight death with a fear of death.

Kyle often doubts if he's worthy of his place on the team. He worked hard, he's one of the best. Price wouldn't choose him to fight by his side if he wasn't good enough. But did he fight so hard to become a part of the team like the others?

That's why he finds himself trying so hard, coming out on top of the pack and still not feeling like it's enough. Is he really worthy? He feels like he's not. Long nights staying up, revising the things he already knows, mentally beating himself up over everything he does. He misses his shot, which could have been an innocent death. He stumbles, that could have been a bullet to the head.

It's Price who notices how much he beats himself up over it all. Although he never admits anything. It often becomes late nights with a cold drink, to burn his throat and not his heart. He silently pays respect to each innocent person he sees fall, wishing he could have been good enough to save them.

Konig is always wishing he could do something else. He wished he would have become that sniper. He tried so hard, that he thought he would be able to get there. He could've if it wasn't for his size. He pushes through to become the best of what he does since he couldn't become the best sniper. But really, he hates how he is. He hates that he's so fucking big, that his dreams were ruined because of himself.

He has no one to blame. He often finds himself going out to the run range alone, grabbing a sniper and practising, even though he knows these skills will never be put to use. He just takes in the sound of the trigger and how perfectly it hits the target in the centre and the splinter of the wood. He lets himself live a few moments of the job he could never have.

He enjoys what he does, but sometimes it feels too gruesome. Something that could be done with a single bullet, and everything goes dark, compared to fighting with everything you have for your own life just feels so dark sometimes. Late nights are always filled with the things he's done, and who he's become.

Kate overthinks so much nothing can drown out her thoughts. She cares for the Task force like they are family to her and it's her job to make sure they get the intel they need to get the job done and survive. But there's always that itch at the back of her mind, what if she got something wrong? One wrong move and their deaths will be on her shoulders.

She trusts them more than anything to be able to withstand whatever is thrown at them, but there's always that fear that lingers. Whenever she hears the comms go quiet for even a moment, she has a small panic attack, waiting for them to update her or their banter to start up again. As much as she tries to act annoyed over their jokes, she loves them. She knows they’re okay when they’re cracking jokes over the comms.

Even when things go bad and it's not her fault, she blames herself. She ran it over and over through her mind, how could she have helped them more, what could she have told them to stop this from happening? If something happens she blames it on herself and no one can stop her from blaming herself. Sarah often worries about her, and what she will end up doing to herself because of all the stress she puts herself under.

Nikolai always worries and wants to do more. Sometimes he wonders if he should have thrown in a few more guns, or maybe an RPG in the weapon stash he gave John. What if they run out of ammunition mid-fire-fight? It’s always in the back of his mind, that when he pulls up with his heli for evac, he’ll see John’s bloody body being hauled into the back.

It scares him, what if he can’t provide the help they need for a mission? He is always worrying, what if he is just the tiniest bit late when providing evac? He wouldn’t ever be able to forgive himself if he was to see one of them drop while running to him, who was supposed to be their helper, their saviour.

He always finds himself checking on John whenever he is wounded, making sure he’s eating and drinking, bandaging his wounds and cleaning them. He knows how they all are, the only one he’d trust the most to keep their wounds clean would be Kyle. He always wants to do more to help, to protect them all.

The thought of not being able to help them always plagues his mind, so whenever he gets the chance to see the team again he spends as much time as he can catching up with them, discreetly looking over them for any injuries he wasn't aware about. He always hugs John for a little longer after each deployment, telling himself he’s still here with him.

After Soap's Death...

After Soap passed, nothing was the same. 

When he saw Makarov raise his gun, he knew it was over. It's crazy how slow time goes when you're an inch away from death. His heart broke in those moments, and regret hit him like a landslide. He wanted to do better and live up to his expectations. He felt like he didn’t. He wanted to turn around and tell the team how much they meant to him. He just wished he was all he could be in this life. Maybe another time. Maybe another time he could’ve told Simon how he felt. But death comes quickly. Nothing happened, no pain. Everything just went black.

It hits Simon the hardest, witnessing your best friend's death does shit to you that no one can go back from. With Johnny, he spoke over comms with the team and had a bit of banter. Now, his voice isn’t heard besides one-worded commands and grunts of acknowledgment. He turns into a husk of a man again, something that they all had feared. He still follows Johnny’s routine, finding himself sitting next to his chair in the mess hall, staring off at where he did his usual workouts. He grabbed his journal before his room was cleaned out. He treats it like his most prized possession.

Price blames it on himself all the time. His heart dropped in the moments he heard the gunshot and the splatter of blood against the cold floor. He couldn't protect his own team, he didn't even get time to grieve his fallen teammate, he had to keep being the captain, staying strong for them. If he let himself fall apart, the rest of the team would be with him. He spends his nights staying up late, for a different reason now. Sitting at his desk with a photo of Johnny, having his cigar and placing a glass of bourbon next to his photo. Sharing many drinks that he never got to, he just hopes to be able to share a drink with his friend again. Sometimes retirement feels closer than it should be.

Gaz feels alone. The base feels oddly quiet without the loud scot telling jokes and pulling pranks. It's not the same. He misses his accent flowing through the hall, he misses how annoying he was. He regrets not being able to do more to help save him, but those seconds went by so fast yet so slow. He finds himself zoning off a lot, thinking about him and praying he won't forget his voice. He'd never forgive himself if he did.

[static-radio-ao3]

quick wash — 21 minutes

i asked si to give me a location, a keyword and a color, she gave me a swing seat on a porch, soft, forest green and it somehow turned into a jegulus laundromat meet cute (sorry) - 1.5k

a birthday gift for @poetskings <3

Regulus, unlike most people, likes the fact that his building doesn’t have a laundry room. He’s somewhat less fond of the lack of heating, but he quite likes the romance of going to a laundromat. Of sitting on those plastic chairs and staring at the dizzying spin of clothes in the machine, the way they tumble in the dryer.

So every Wednesday, which has been laundry day for about as long as he can remember, he packs up his laundry and walks down seven flights of stairs, because of course the elevator doesn’t work in his building either. He brings his headphones and lets the weight of loose change in his pocket ground him.

He greets the laundromat clerk, someone his age who looks like he’s never even heard of ironing his clothes. His hair always looks disheveled, like he rolls out of bed and goes straight to work, but he never tries to talk, which Regulus appreciates.

Regulus remembers hours spent sitting in front of the washing machine as a kid, watching it spin and spin and spin. It was equal parts dizzying and meditative.

He wondered, sometimes, if he could crawl in there. He was small enough (too small, his father's voice corrects). Maybe he could crawl in and spin and spin and spin and come out clean.

If he could not be new, he could at least be clean.

Because there's no washing off the person you are. No matter how hot your showers, no matter the fact that you scrub at your skin until it's raw and pink, no matter no matter no matter.

But sometimes, if you're lucky, you can wash off the person you are. Don a shiny new identity. Make everyone forget the person you were, make sure they only see the person you've become.

Sirius did it, once. Left and never came back and became someone new. Good. Worthy.

It was a Wednesday afternoon, probably, because Regulus had been sitting there, watching the machine spin and spin and spin. He heard Sirius' footsteps, despite his light tread. He heard the front door open. Heard it close again. He didn't realize, at the time, what it meant.

The tiny overhead doorbell jingles, and Regulus looks up almost instinctively. He knows the regulars on Wednesdays. The college student who exclusively wears Thrasher hoodies. The grandma and her dog who she dresses in human clothes.

But this time, it’s none of them. Regulus can’t help the way his heart stutters, a harsh thud, when he lays eyes on the man walking in.

He looks handsome even in the glaring lights of the laundromat. The tiled walls and floors don’t cut him into flat planes. Instead, they soften his edges, cast him in a dreamy glow.

Regulus faintly thinks the man looks like a detergent advertisement.

The man tugs his gloves off and unwinds his scarf from around his neck, the protection against the winter cold excessive in the heat of the laundromat. He’s wearing a dark green sweater, made darker still by the stain that covers most of the front.

Regulus forces his eyes back to the washing machine, watching it spin and spin and spin, until a heavy coat drops down on the seat next to him. The man peels off the sweater revealing a white t-shirt. Regulus sees a thin golden chain disappear under the collar of the shirt.

When the man catches Regulus staring, he lifts his shoulders in a shrug, a bashful smile on his face.

“There was an incident involving a child and hot chocolate and favorite sweater was the unfortunate casualty.” He shakes the sweater a little as if to offer proof. “Didn’t want the stain to set, so here we are.”

“Need a hand?” Regulus asks, but he’s already pushing himself out of his chair before the man has a chance to reply.

The man blinks, surprised. Fair enough, Regulus has never been accused of being polite or helpful. Something to do with the permanent frown of his face, the rigid line of his shoulders.

“Yeah, that’d be— Thanks.”

“You can just put it in,” Regulus says, inclining his head toward the machine. “I’ll grab some detergent.”

Because, sure, he wants to be helpful, but he’s not quite willing to offer up his own detergent, the vanilla cotton one that costs more than any detergent reasonably should. Thankfully this particular laundromat sells detergent by the dose for a few cents.

“Who’s your friend?” The clerk asks, leaning on the counter and glancing over Regulus’ shoulder.

“Not a friend, just helping him out,” Regulus says mildly, rifling through the different bottles of detergent until he finds the right one.

The clerk fixes him with a flat stare. “You’ve been coming here for months and never once have your tried to help someone.”

“Maybe because that’s literally your job,” Regulus quips. “Also ever heard of New Year’s resolutions?”

“It’s February. Little late for those, isn’t it?”

“Okay,” Regulus squints at the name tag, “Evan. Thank you so much for your input.”

“Oh, shit, wrong shirt again,” Evan (?) grumbles, fiddling with the tag on his shirt. “Boss is gonna kill me.”

Regulus opens his mouth to say— something, probably, but he decides he’s better off leaving it alone, so he fills a tiny cup with detergent, drops a few cents in the clerk’s hand and heads back to the machines.

He makes quick work of setting up the machine, selecting the shortest program, quick wash — 21 minutes.

“I’m James, by the way.”

Regulus settles back into his chair, offering his own name in return.

“Oh, like the star! That’s such a coincidence, one of my friends is also named after a star.”

Regulus’ mind flashes to another boy named after a star, but he pushes the thought away. “Yeah, well, you know what they say,” he mumbles awkwardly, unsure how to proceed and the floor unsteady under his feet even though he’s sitting.

“No?” James says, voice climbing and head tilted. He shoves his coat to the side, making space for himself next to Regulus. “What do they say?”

Great question. “Nothing, it’s— nothing.”

Spin and spin and spin, washing away sin and sin and sin.

“So,” James asks after a while, shifting in his seat to face Regulus. “You come here often? Wait, shit, that sounded like a bad pick-up line. I just meant that you seem to know your way around these things.”

“Yeah, my building doesn’t have a laundry room and this place is just down the street, so I’m here pretty much every week.”

“Cool,” James says, and the worst part is that he genuinely seems to find that cool. James pulls out his phone, and Regulus knows he should look away — privacy and all that, but Regulus isn’t looking at the screen at all. His eyes catch on James’ hands, big and veiny.

When James moves again, Regulus catches a whiff of his cologne. And Regulus tries to be normal about it, tries not to inhale too deeply and trap the scent into his lungs, but James smells woodsy and soft. Sunny pines, like forest green personified.

Regulus can picture him a swing seat on a porch on a cool summer evening, a breeze tousling his dark curls. Regulus blinks, suddenly back under the harsh glare of the laundromat lights.

“What about you?” James asks, expecting Regulus to know what he’s been talking about, which is a reasonable expectation, but there is unfortunately static in Regulus’ brain.

When Regulus is silent for too long, James laughs. It’s not a mean laugh, or a cruel one, like his mother’s laughter. It’s not at Regulus’ expense, like his father’s laughter. He feels warmed by the sound, and can’t help the bashful smile that appears on his face.

“I was just asking what you do for a living,” James repeats.

“Oh! I work at a bookstore. I’m the buyer for our children’s section, actually. And I have Tuesdays and Wednesdays off, hence the laundromat.”

“Do you have a favorite book?” James asks. Then he adds, “Personally, I’m a huge fan of Green Eggs and Ham.”

It’s a bad joke, really, but Regulus can’t help the amused huff that escapes him. James’ eyes brighten, leaning a little closer to Regulus as if desperate to hear it again. Like Regulus is the sun and James is a flower.

They talk while James’ sweater spins and spins and spins. Talk about books and movies and TV shows. They talk while Regulus unloads the dryer and folds his shirts, the fabric warm under his fingertips. He’s meticulous about it, moving slow despite the practice, desperate to prolong the interaction. Desperate to coax another laugh out of James, warm and low and rumbling.

Eventually though, he’s got all of his clothes sorted away in his bag, James’ sweater almost done washing and then needing a little while to dry, too.

But before Regulus can be too disappointed about it, James asks, “Same time next week?” His eyes are bright and soft behind his glasses, a tiny smudge right on the edge.

“Sure,” Regulus says. He tucks his smile away for safekeeping. When he gets back home, he drops it in the jar of pennies on his desk.

[semisasseater]

But I'm overwhelmed with jealousy

Jealous! Se-mi x fem! reader

Summary: jealous gf se-mi headcannons!

Tw: jealous, possessive, aggression, intimation, killing/sabotaging players (didn’t get into detail), light hearted threats, se-mi is down BAD, se-mi wants readers attention, physical touch, humor + exaggeration (the kid part.) swearing and snarky remarks.. (kinda?) let me know if i missed anything!

authors note: can you see this is an enhypen reference? (the name of the fic and the pictures used..) dyk i actually name all my fics after my favorite artists (enhypen, illit, and ariana grande?!) also im gonna cry i miss my wife gabby but she’s doing SCHOOL. gonna sob

Not proofread!

Word count: 531

Jealous! Se-mi x Reader Headcanons

• Se-mi isn’t the type to openly admit she’s jealous, but the moment she feels threatened, her entire demeanor changes. Her eyes darken, her body stiffens, and her jaw clenches ever so slightly.

• She has a sharp resting glare, so sometimes people don’t even realize she’s fuming with jealousy—until she makes a snarky remark under her breath.

• If she sees someone getting too comfortable around you, she’ll silently step closer, standing just a little too protectively beside you, as if she’s reminding them who you belong to.

When a Kid Compliments You:

• You two were just casually walking down the street when a little kid looked up at you and innocently said, “Wow! You’re really pretty!”

• Before you could even react, you felt the air change—Se-mi went completely silent.

• You turned to see her standing still, her eyes darkened, lips pressed into a thin line. Instant panic.

• “Oh nononono, Se-mi! You’re not gonna hurt the child—he just complimented me!” you blurted out, quickly stepping in front of her.

• She scoffed, shaking her head. “You think I’d actually fight a kid?”

• …You weren’t sure. Because the way she was looking at that child made you think she just might.

• The poor kid, oblivious to the tension, just giggled and ran off. Meanwhile, you spent the next five minutes calming Se-mi down, reassuring her that even toddlers weren’t competition for her.

When Another Player Flirts With You in the Game:

• Se-mi is not subtle when another player tries flirting with you.

• She immediately steps between you and them, fixing them with a cold, unreadable stare.

• “Keep your eyes on the game, not my girlfriend” she says flatly scaring the other player away.

• If they don’t get the message, she doesn’t mind “accidentally” knocking into them during red light green light or making their life slightly more difficult.

• One time, Player 230 “jokingly” said, “Damn, Y/N, if we make it out of here, you should go on a date with me instead.”

• Se-mi didn’t say a word—she just gave him a look that made him rethink and question what he said then he takes what he said back.

Random Moments of Jealousy:

• Eye Contact? Nope. If someone so much as stares at you too long, Se-mi will stare back—until they get so uncomfortable they look away first.

• Physical Touch? Absolutely Not. If someone puts a hand on your shoulder or leans in too close, she’ll immediately pull you toward her with zero hesitation.

• Possessive Gestures. She often rests her hand on your waist, gives you her jacket, or calls you “mine” loud enough for others to hear.

• When she’s feeling particularly territorial, she’ll kiss you in front of others—just to make it crystal clear who you belong to.

When You Reassure Her:

• Sometimes, her jealousy is unreasonable, and you know it.

• “Se-mi, do you really think I’d leave you for a random stranger?”

• She crosses her arms and looks away, muttering, “I don’t like people thinking they have a chance.”

• You can’t help but smile and grab her hand, pulling her close.

• “You’re the only one for me, dummy.”

• She doesn’t respond, but you see the corner of her lips twitch—and that’s how you know she’s secretly pleased.

Overall:

• Se-mi is undeniably protective and territorial, but she trusts you enough not to lash out unless absolutely necessary.

• She won’t always voice her jealousy, but she’ll make sure everyone knows you’re hers in one way or another.

• Despite her sharp and intimidating nature, she secretly just wants reassurance that you love her as much as she loves you.

• And honestly? You think it’s kinda cute—as long as she doesn’t actually try to start a fight with a child again.

@semisasseater

[dia-oro]

Imagine linked universe

But reader when they got lost again thank to portals taking all the chain to a new Hyrule they just discover the link pre-adventure here and in matter of fact is another abandoned boy- a baby and Oh. Boy. Reader could never want a baby- they could want one day or they are in a relationship with a link and they didn't even thought of it even or are still in the beginning of a courting, but their darling reader will got feral if someone touch the baby in their hands.

Imagine time wondering if that how saria was when the kokiri take care of him as baby, sweet sweet Hyrule that was alone from the very start can't help but wonder how would have been if he have someone as reader to fight to have him in their hands and care for him in a world nobody cares.

Imagine wild having a whirlwind of emotions because while he loving the mini link that is with them in that Hyrule, the both know this can't be a forever thing and is starting also to remember his little sister so he very sensitive right now.

Sky doing music all time for the baby, deep inside full of sadness and ire for he know there's will the only harshness for that baby link.

Bros, legend is emotionally no okay, that all, you have at your imagination the why.

Wind is in his element, being big brother again but also very sad that the baby cannot stay and promise to help reader to look for a good home for the mini link.

Twilight? Big bro to- almost trying to co-parenting the baby, don't be mad if he end now always in your tent somehow as Wolfie, it's the wolf instinct to there's a pup to protect- expect him to go hunting for the chain more but first he always present the food for you before giving it to wild.

Exchanging things for milk for the baby will be priority.

Four is always very aware of where reader is, he now have three of his four braincells now just focus on the baby and reader while only one is with looking for a home for the baby, to be honest if the baby didn't have the triforce in their little hand he would silently support reader to let the baby got with them, heck he would recommend give it to malon-

warrrios know they can't take the baby with them, is saddest with the toughest act of all, remind always reader they can't take the baby with them, they have made reader cry so much the whole time in that Hyrule and it's killing him inside- he want to save that baby for what he know is a weight to great for only one part of shoulders but he know, he know they can't do it and just pray to Hylia that reader can see the perfect family for the baby.

Bonus no oficial chain

First would feel a pain deep in his soul seeing another one destine to this harsh fate with the weight of their world in their tiny shoulder but even more see something so tiny starting their life with so little kindred. He suffer for reader seeing their pain for the baby link and also respect them all the more.

Chat, age is severely saddened by this, the baby is so tiny and already all alone- like he had his sister and father but this Child? Reader till the next portal take them all- he would like to do as readers say but know destiny will no let it happened.

Fierce Deity is just a observant of all these tragedies the hero's are and still, can help but be move in reader kindred, they all are used to be so unlucky in life and reader still try and try- he surely will never forget this no matter the end.

[karikitdemonrp]

Core grumbled as Kohaku teased him. "Kohaku, why must you continue to tease me?" He asked softly, tail flicking a bit as he moved to follow his warrior. "And why must you tempt fate? I worry because you can be reckless. I worry because you're so strong, too strong for your own good sometimes. What if something happens? What if you get in over your head and I'm not there to help you?" He sighed, tail slowing until it went still.

The thought plagued Core a lot since becomingKohaku's boyfriend. The kitsune had never loved someone so much and the thought of being unable to protect that person, the thought of one day losing that person... Of losig Kohaku, terrified the kitsune. But he tried not to let these fears control him despite them still lingering in the back of Core's mind.

Though, Core had to admit, he loved how strong Kohaku was and how the demon slayer continued to improve. It was inspiring. "I know I worry a lot, I'm just scared of losing you is all. Promise you won't push yourself too hard, please?" He muttered softly, tail swishing ever so slightly.

At the demon slayer flirtatious proposal Core chuckled slyly. "Can't it be a bit of both?" He muttered and moved to join and watch Kohaku hunt. "I do love watching you work. You're very good at what you do." He purred softly. "And I'm still a bit worried about your wound. It may not have been the worst wound you've gotten but it was still pretty bad and you did get it yesterday and all. I just want to be sure." The kitsune shrugged, tail flicking nervously but not very much.

Kohaku smirked, glancing back over his shoulder at Core with a knowing glint in his eyes. "Oh? Swearing revenge already? You really must be flustered," he teased, his voice smooth and playful. His fingers flexed slightly on the hilt of his weapon, not out of tension, but in anticipation of the hunt—and maybe just a little bit for how Core was reacting to him.

His smirk softened at Core’s concern, and he let out a small chuckle, shaking his head. "I know, I know. You worry too much, love," he said, his tone still playful but with a warmth underneath it. "I’ll be fine. I’m not about to let some dumb injury slow me down."

Kohaku took a step forward, then paused. His gaze flickered back to Core, his smirk returning, but this time with a little more affection behind it. "But I’ll tell you what—if you’re really that worried, maybe you should stay close. That way, if I do anything reckless, you can scold me right away." His voice dropped into a softer, more flirtatious tone as he added, "Or… maybe you just like watching me work."

[donovankinard]

that's right, that's right, 911 fic recs are back! its been a pretty light month for reading for me; i travelled quite a bit earlier in the month and then school started back up, so i don't have a huge amount to link, but i wanted to share what i have read anyway! this month we've got buddie, bucktommy, tarlos, buck&chris, saltommy, teddie and louliver! a very mlm heavy month, but with hen wilson week coming up that should change for feb.

🔥 Back to Us || @kumiokosposts evan buckley/eddie diaz || 95k Buck, struggling with abandonment and feelings of being unworthy, is shaken when Chris calls, asking if he can live with Buck now that he’s no longer with Tommy. Still hurt and angry with Eddie, Chris refuses to tell his dad about wanting to live with Buck, leaving Buck caught in the middle, torn between protecting Chris and his loyalty to Eddie. Yet as Buck promises to help, he feels something shift—beneath all the self-doubt and pain, a quiet hope emerges. For the first time in what feels like forever, someone chose him, and maybe, just maybe, he’s not as unworthy of love as he’s always believed.

🔥 Time in a Bottle || @cjlouwho evan buckley/tommy kinard || 16.7k (so far) His heart began to race as the doors swung open and out. No light shined in, letting Tommy know it was still night. Then, a heavy step started down the staircase. Thud, thud, thud. Fifteen steps. Tommy counted each one. And suddenly, he wasn't alone anymore.

🔥 white shoe, black shoe || @hazeystar evan buckley/tommy kinard || 1.5k Tommy and Buck get married and somehow let Maddie and Eddie come up with the wedding games. Or: The wedding shoe game that ends with Eddie Diaz being a menace to society (really just Buck and Tommy)

🔥 You're Not Gone (You Can't Be Gone) || @theredrenard & @buck-up-buck evan buckley/eddie diaz || 5.2k “Eddie…?” Buck sways slightly, eyes wide. He’s paler than he should be and his voice sounds so, so fragile. His hand twitches at his side like he’s trying to reach for Eddie, but he can’t quite get his arm to move. In the time it takes Eddie to glance down, then back up to Buck’s face with dawning horror painted on his features, Buck’s legs give out and he collapses onto the concrete in slow motion.

🔥 a hundred times over || @fake-mouthstatic evan buckley/tommy kinard || 7.7k (so far) A collection of BuckTommy drabbles for the 118 Daily Drabble Challenge.

🔥 To Share, A little, A lot || DracaUponTheWings carlos reyes/tk strand, evan buckley/tommy kinard || 4.7k In Which the Author seized on the possible similarities in our couples and forced them to talk.

🔥 when fate cries || @theghostofashton carlos reyes/tk strand || 67.8k An ACL tear, the statement posted a couple days later had read. Carlos would need immediate surgery, and obviously – he would not compete for the USA in London. TK, still coming off the thrill of being named to the team himself, hadn’t been sure how to feel. Carlos had always trained in Texas, and he in New York, so they rarely crossed paths outside of competitions. That’s why he was looking forward to being on the team with him, so sure it was guaranteed. It was practically a given among every coach he talked to. Carlos was a lock. It felt weird to celebrate. Wrong, almost. Carlos should have been with him. They’d both been working for this their entire lives. three years later, the road to rio brings with it far more than redemption

🔥 Come Back... Be Here || @911varietyposts evan buckley & christopher diaz || 1.1k Buck still hadn’t gone back to work, even though Maddie was pushing him to just so he could have something to distract his mind from everything going on around him. He just couldn’t bring himself to go back yet; not to the job that had claimed the love of his life. OR: Buck and Chris navigate the emotions after Eddie's death

🔥 just give hope a chance to float up || @judymarch15 sal deluca/tommy kinard || 23.4k Sal Deluca's marriage falls apart on national television. He and his daughter Sophia move back to his hometown of Smithville, Texas to live with his mom Loretta. He works on picking up the pieces of his life, grows closer to his family, and reconnects with old classmate and football teammate Tommy Kinard.

🔥 Louliver Road Trip || @writerdot lou ferrigno jr/oliver stark || 2.5k Oliver isn't alone on his road trip.

🔥 sonnet || @athenaeumsfic evan buckley/tommy kinard || 30.5k It wasn’t supposed to still feel this raw after so long. Every time Tommy passes him by, his cologne lingers in the air for a moment and Buck is transported back to this time last year when they were getting to the stage of really, properly knowing each other. He’d never been happier. A few times, Tommy swipes his back as he moves around him – the garden is crowded with three separate firehouses hanging around – and it feels like an electric shock every time. All he wants is to reach behind him, grab his hand and pull Tommy close. aka the one where Buck and Tommy have broken up but agree to a weekend in Vegas with Eddie and Chimney. Chaos ensues.

🔥 i'm broken (tell you i'm fine) || @hazeystar evan buckley/tommy kinard || 1.9k Two weeks after the breakup, Buck misses Tommy. He also loves him, did you know?

🔥 Tiny Heartbeats || @sunnywithachanceofbi evan buckley/tommy kinard || 9.9k Tommy and Buck's daughter, Edie, faces a life-threatening heart surgery at two weeks old, pushing them to confront their deepest fears while waiting in the hospital.

🔥 There's Gotta Be Some Butterflies Somewhere || Tea_gremlin evan buckley/eddie diaz || 34.7k Eddie joins the 118 after Buck is permanently disabled by an explosion at a call. Despite initial tensions, they learn just how important they can be to one another.

🔥 say what you wanna say (and let the words fall out) || @nephilimeq evan buckley/tommy kinard || 6.3k “You all saw me sad and upset over Tommy breaking up with me—but instead of asking me what went wrong or what you could do to help, all of you stopped me from reaching out to him!” Buck spat out, feeling his irritation rise at seeing his friends looking confused, but he didn’t care. Instead, he kept on talking, saying, “You kept me from reaching out to him by playing ‘keep away’ with my phone like a bunch of middle schoolers! Did it ever occur to any of you that I didn’t want the breakup to happen?” (...aka, the story where Buck and Tommy secretly get back together and then Buck finally stands up for himself against his 118 family, finally saying what he's been wanting to say for a long while, dragging all the dirt out into the open)

🔥 playing (playing with the boy) || @thatmexisaurusrex eddie diaz/tommy kinard || 5.2k Tommy. Snorted. Cute. Why was that cute?

🔥 shelter (feels like home) || @fake-mouthstatic evan buckley/tommy kinard || 1.9k Tommy wakes with a start to the sound of ringing and it takes him a few bleary eyed moments to realise it's his phone, loud even over the pounding of the rain outside. He frowns at the bright light as he picks it up, worry immediately catching in his throat when he sees Evan's name on the screen; it's close to 3am and from experience he knows that's rarely when people call with good news. "Hey babe, are you okay?" he says as he answers, rubbing his eyes as he sits up in bed. "The storm," Evan says, and Tommy's heart wrenches in his chest when he realises he's crying. "There wasn't supposed to be a storm."

🔥 John Doe|| @thatmexisaurusrex evan buckley/tommy kinard || 5.8k He was tanned. Not too tanned, but he definitely tanned more than burned in the sun. He had an aquiline nose, distinct cheekbones, and a cleft. He had curly hair; curly, chestnut brown hair. He was banged up from the hit and run. Cuts and bruises, though, the swelling was going down and the fresh red-purple was seeping into a yellow. Had three casts and almost lost his spleen. Dry lips from a week and a half asleep. He was breathing, though. Breathing steadily. He was Tara Kaplan’s first John Doe. And no one was sure if they would ever figure out who he was before he woke up.

🔥 want you more than a melody || @alchemistc evan buckley/tommy kinard || 2.5k “What are you looking for?” Tommy asks, and doesn’t linger at all on how at home Evan looks, just rifling through his things. He’d caught him sorting Tommy’s mail, last weekend, nothing overly curious, just piles of junk mail sorted away from the bills and the single postcard from his nephew, fingers drifting over the stocky block letters of Tommy’s name before he realized he’d been caught out, lips squeezing in like a kid tasting his first lemon. “The key to your china cabinet,” Evan tells him, still sorting, keys chiming merrily against each other. “Second drawer to the left of the fridge, little brass thing. It’s where I keep my ring cutter,” Tommy tells him, expanding heart and weak joints and all, as Evan grins at the joke and stalks halfway across the room in two wide, long-legged steps.

STATS: # of fics: 19 # of authors: 16 # of words read: 306.3k

[themoodyestj]

i doubt you actually know what it is like to live with a narcissist. i was in a relationship like that for a long time, he made me feel like i was nothing. i was fully convinced that i was completely useless and couldn't do anything right. i wasn't allowed to go out with my friends. i wasn't allowed to work, i had to depend on him. i wasn't allowed to have any hobbies. i was always the one who needed improvement, everything wrong was always my fault. everything always had to be spotless or else there would be dire consequences, i was so scared of him it made me sick. but in public he treated me different, he was the nicest sweetest guy, no one would have ever suspected. i honestly don't think this is Jensen's case, just look at him, he's a confident successful man with tons of friends, he gets to do what he loves for a living, he can have his music and go play golf whenever he wants, he's not afraid to be by himself for long periods of time, he's not afraid to call his wife and say "ups i messed up" and he always wants to come back to her. he's not scared.

Wow, we have an abuse gatekeeper here! Hi delulu! So glad to see you! Should I expect rain tonight?

I’m sorry you went through that, truly. And I'm not going to tell you where I have my experience from, I'm not an idiot. But your personal trauma doesn’t make you the human lie detector for abuse. You don’t get to point at a dude playing golf and go, “See? Not abused!” like that’s how this works. You think having friends, hobbies, or saying “oops, I messed up” means someone can’t be mistreated? That’s dumb as fuck.

Especially since, in this case, she needs his hobbies, his friends, his connections for him to WORK TO MAKE MONEY so she can get the lifestyle she wants!

Abuse doesn’t always look like black eyes and isolation. Sometimes it looks like constant belittling, having your achievements dismissed, your needs ignored, and walking on eggshells so much you don’t even realize it anymore. But hey, since you’re so sure, let’s flip this: if Jensen were a woman and zee kween a man, and he was being publicly humiliated, manipulated, and used as a TikTok aesthetic for “if men are easy to manipulate, they deserve it,” would you still be acting like this? Or would you be posting a whole damn essay about how “this is why women aren't protected”?

You don’t actually care about what’s happening. You just don’t want it to be real. Because if you did, you’d sit with those red flags instead of swatting them away like a toddler refusing to eat their vegetables.

And now, allow me to flip that pointing finger at you. If you were really a victim of narcissism, you wouldn’t be out here dismissing someone else’s experience. You know why? Because you’d know firsthand how painful it is, how isolating, how damn near impossible it is to reach out for help. Real survivors don’t gatekeep abuse, and they sure as hell don’t harass people for seeing red flags.

On a last note, I really hope you heal, but also learn to shut up and let others heal. Because the disgrace you just wrote, the lines you memorized from that old crumpled misogynistic evangelist pamphlet, basically forcing the idea that abuse victims have to fit a certain mold, is nothing you should be saying out loud, let alone to someone who may be potentially experiencing abuse.

It's a disservice to the people trying to survive/escape abuse. As if gaslighting and years of grooming weren't already a major issue for them.

YOU ARE PART OF THE REASON THERE STILL IS A PROBLEM.

[thejujvtsupost]

LADS CALEB SPOILERS BUT I NEED TO MAKE SURE IM INTERPRETING THINGS RIGHT BC OH MY GOD?

I just finished the main story for Caleb and I’m in absolute SHAMBLES like PLEASE let mc get the full truth so they can make up.

You’re telling me he’s doing everything so he can take mc’s place/protect her from the professor? Good lord someone send help HES SACRIFICING EVERYTHING TO PROTECT HER IM FERAL AND HEARTBROKEN HES doing so much to make sure she’s okay and she doesn’t even know yet and she feels betrayed but he’s still doing his best

FORGIVENESS COUPON EXCUSE ME—

And her voice when she found it in her pocket? I stg they better make up immediately rn asap

Anyway, the Caleb fic is still being worked on🍎💗

[lycorisketch]

Affogato Cookie Rant

Ok everyone @doomteensy asked about Affogato Cookie Headcanons and I'm gonna explain mine. Strap in this is a rollercoaster now.

(While I did playthrough the game, read the wiki, and try to ingest as much info as possible, there are chances I have missed information. Please bear with me here)

We know canonically Affogato was a resident of the Coffee Village (as is mentioned in his dialogue for his first ascension “The Coffee Tribe? I barely remember my time there…”). We also know via episode 13 when players first enter the Dark Cacao Kingdom that the Coffee Village has long since been abandoned and was left in ruins (If you have Espresso in your party when you visit the village you’ll learn that the Coffee Tribe left a long time ago.) Affogato was likely just a child when the village was abandoned (most likely falling to monsters in the area, as the only other individuals of Coffee Tribe descendent we meet are Affogato (Who is the only coffee cookie we see in the Dark Cacao Kingdom) and Espresso (Who is actually from a line of coffee cookies in the Creme Republic, likely a family branch who moved there sometime before the fall of the tribe).

The fact we only see a few coffee cookies in basically the entire game (I’m not counting Latte since that heritage is unknown) one of which is not from the Coffee Village, it’s not hard to believe that most residents were wiped out and hadn’t simply “left” as Espresso said. The Coffee Tribe residents are mentioned to be very agile and can go days without sleeping, making them good as scouts, infiltrators, and messengers for the Kingdom, yet Affogato is the ONLY one we see in the Dark Cacao Kingdom in game. No others are even mentioned.

In Affogato’s loading screen text it mentions that he had left home Affogato wandered the land and learned a lot about magic and witchcraft. It says “left” but if we consider what likely happened to the village its more likely he fled, then found solace in magic and witchcraft. It’s possible he found a group of shamans or other magic users who he then learned from, hence his strange concoctions and mysterious chants (it’s possible he learned these from individuals not originally of the Dark Cacao Kingdom, hence the words “mysterious” and “strange”.)

We can’t be sure what drives Affogato completely but we know he wants to live a life of comfort, mentioning in one dialogue that he’s spent his whole life on his knees, and now even with a seat it’s still not comfortable. This implies he lived poorly in the past, likely in his time after fleeing the village, though perhaps even before. Living out in a snowy climate without proper protection, especially as a young child, can be devastating on one’s health. Even wearing many layers, Affogato might still feel a chill of cold that will never leave his bones. Any illness or injuries he sustained during that time likely weren’t treated quickly or well (unless he found help as I suggested he might have when encountering whoever taught him his witchcraft) leaving lasting damage to him.

He’s greedy and enjoys sugar, something he might not have had the luxury of enjoying much before. He’s also shown to enjoy eating more than others, possibly due to the aforementioned poor life prior to becoming Dark Cacao’s retainer. Though he does share in his momentary success of taking the throne by throwing a feast with his disciples. (I believe it’s likely because he doesn’t want to see others “starve” when he has the power to ensure they eat well. Likely trauma from watching his village fall around him and then being alone in the snowy land of the kingdom.)

Based on what we can see of Affogato’s body (which is not a lot) he appears to have a more feminine body type or appearance (regardless of his presented gender), which, mixed with a poor upbringing would lend to a smaller or thinner body size. He presents as someone possibly physically weaker than other residents of the kingdom, even females like Caramel Arrow look strong in how they present themselves.

Also if he did receive help from a group of shamans or others, he likely learned to make medicines and incense that could help any lasting ailments he might have.

TLDR; I think Affogato is prone to sickness, is actually quite physically weak, and hides it with his many clothing layers and arrogant personality. He is likely one of the only survivors of the Coffee Village