#maybe i just need to be medicated and move out of the country and then it’ll be a grand old time but right now these things haunt me

[improbabledreamgirl]

i want to be more productive and have more initiative to do tasks that are simple and well within my capabilities. i want to be more driven, to aspire to challenging goals, to impress the people who have supported me and expect great things from me. i want to be better at things i suck at, to learn useful skills and actually remember them when the time comes. i want to sleep and wake up ready to take on the day, not yearning to stay in my bed. i want to carry out simple routines in the morning and at night so i can look and feel good. i wish i was better. i wish i didn’t have to be better. i wish i was enough the way i am and not labeled lazy or selfish for wanting things to be easier. i want to be better but it’s so hard when there isn’t any set guidelines. clear rules and instructions, the physical and mental energy to follow them, and the genuine support of those around me rather than a condescending encouragement to keep pushing myself until i’m completely miserable.

[neil-gaiman]

Hi Neil.

I know you are flooded with asks and this somehow became extremely long. Too long. “Why am I suddenly telling this poor man my life story?” too long. “I think I’d rather he work on the GO3 script than read this wild beast” too long. “He’s going to think you’re criminally dangerously insane” too long. If you never get to it, I’m good with never seeing a response from you. Maybe it’s better that way? Maybe an anon would have been nice here. But, it’s 2024, so I say “we ball.” It’s a privilege to be able to send this to you at all. You get a lot to this effect and I hope they give you good feels, so maybe what’s the harm, yeah? Because this is not an ask. This is a thank you letter.

First, thanks for reblogging my therapist post, I hope it amused you. I nearly sent you “How am i supposed to explain this to my therapist?!” But refrained. At that time.

So, therapy. What is therapy really? Well…

Things have been really rotten for as long as I can remember. Bad health, bad doctors, bad relationships, bad coping mechanisms, bad all kinds of things. (Yeah, bad is a weak and unhelpful word, my therapist reminds me, but we’re doing this.)

Well, things got even more really really rotten and BAD these last few years. Health declined further, coping mechanisms declined further and more intensely, packed up my life, applied for disability, moved back in with my parents across the country.

Then 4 years ago last week I watched my fiance die of a sudden heart attack. I was 29. Two years later my best friend died. Then last summer I sauntered vaguely into a cancer scare. Not long before an operation my cat who has been my companion through so much garbage died as well. I’m not entirely in the clear on the cancer scare front. All my attempts at going back to work, volunteering, going to grad school - they collapsed on me because I couldn’t get through this STUFF.

(Sometimes when I talk about this, when I tell people, I think “they are going to think you are a raging pathological liar.” Because I’m not sure I would believe someone if they told me all of this happened to them. In such a short time period. All before they were 35. And hell if that hasn’t been isolating. You know how it sounds? Lonely. And it is.)

I did the hypervigilant and sensation/experience chasing stage of PTSD. It got me in a lot of trouble in all kinds of ways. I had to do a lot of medical and psych advocating because things kept getting worse. That was exhausting. Then that peaked. I went into the thick of the “I feel absolutely nothing” stage for a long time. I didn’t feel fatigue or hunger or thirst. Not people, feelings, a reason. Not hope.

But of course, like seems be for a lot of us, I somehow found Good Omens at just the right time. I was a very “I’m so cool and intellectual I mostly consume non-fiction media” person for too long. Like, what? How is that even a real thing? And it wasn’t real. It was just part of this curated autism mask that I don’t think anyone really bought anyway.

I think I got to a point where I’d just had too much reality. I needed fantasy. I didn’t realize I always needed it. But I denied myself for too many odd and painful reasons. Maybe I thought it was an escape I didn’t deserve.

But as it turns out, it wasn’t an escape. I watched both seasons last fall, and then this light came on. I watched it again and again.

I came to tumblr because I needed more. I found this fandom. I stepped into this beautiful world of fanart and fanfiction and brain flexing meta writing and a sense of community and wonder that you and Terry created - that everyone involved in the show inflated - exploded in the right way - like fireworks if fireworks were some kind of autocatalytic reaction - a self perpetuating force.

It’s not a “saved my life” feeling. Not a “getting my life back” feeling. It’s been a “maybe it’s time for you to have the life you’ve always been denied - that you’ve denied yourself” feeling.

I’m creating. I’m not “great” yet. Not terribly “good” at all. Maybe “behind” as far as the “proper” timeline for starting. I know there isn’t one, not really, but boy does that society machine make ya feel like there is. And sure, I started and stopped a lot in the past. But the second it got hard I always gave up. I felt like if I didn’t get it “right” to begin with, then I just didn’t have it in me at all. But for once I’m really in it. I’m writing and trying to draw things that look less like fever dream five year old drawings. (Not that there’s anything wrong with those, is there? 🙃) I’m eating better. I’m sleeping better. I reach out to old friends more. I’ve made new friends who share this love of Good Omens.

My therapist has been floored by the change in me. After that first funny mini flop, he has been so encouraging about it. I saw him this week and I said “Maybe this is helping me get prepared to start living again. Maybe it’s a springboard.” And he honest to god said “But You ARE living. This is YOU LIVING. Why does it have to be a springboard? Why do you have to turn this into ‘work?’ Just let yourself have this for once in your life.”

But there were two more added elements that made it all work. And I can’t help but think this whole brainrot thing wouldn’t have happened without them. So many things just happened all at just the right time - a proper coincidence.

In all of the madness of the last few years I finally got the memo that I'm autistic. i figured I was for a while. But it finally sunk in for me and my docs and my people. So I’d been working on unpacking that. Grieving the life that could have been entirely different, shedding the mask. I let myself hyperfixate openly instead of hiding it and hating myself for “spiralling” or “obsessing” like others -!like ‘I’ always punished myself for before we knew that it was a trait and not a personality flaw.

Then over the last few months my therapist and I started trying this new exercise. One session he stopped me and said “in the last 20 minutes you have responded to what I’ve said with 9 ‘I knows.’” My response to that? “Ugh, I know.” So we started this “I know” swear jar type situation. Really, I’ve been afraid of not knowing. I couldn’t let myself “not know.” Because it meant I was “dumb.” I was just drowning for so long in guilt and self loathing for the “I knew better and screwed up anyway.” Or “I should’ve known better - I should know that by now.”

As it turns out, there’s a lot of things I don’t know. That I didn’t know. Things I will never know. And refusing to admit all of that kept me from learning a damn thing. Kept me from asking questions. Kept me from trying new things because it was scary to do something new - something unknown - and I "knew" how it would all turn out anyway. Kept me from connecting with people because it was painful or embarrassing when they knew things I didn’t and it seemed like I already should have. Kept me from getting better at making art, music, writing. Kept me from forgiving myself. Kept me from growing. And kept me from moving forward. Maybe not on. I don’t know if we ever “move on” from things. But we can move forward as we carry them. And as we do, the weight gets less. We’re able to carry it better. But only if we can admit that we don’t know how. Only if we don’t treat ourselves like this is something we do know or should know and we’re just failing because we’re less than. Not good enough. Not strong enough. Not deserving. We have to be able to say “I don’t know how to do this.” And then we can start looking for the answers. We can ask. We can learn.

I thought about the apple. Being able to tell the difference between good and evil. Aziraphale’s years and years of watching what he “knows” to be true be proven wrong. Crowley’s need to ask questions…

The simple and enormous gift of “Knowledge.” The “Knowledge” of the difference between Good and Evil. The “Knowledge” that can only be gained by realizing, accepting, admitting that there are things we don’t know. Asking the questions. Sometimes we get answers we don’t like. Sometimes the consequences of asking hurt us. And unless you want to stay in that painful place that painful knowledge got you, well, you’ve got to let yourself learn how to get out.

So all of this good? I never expected this. I never thought I deserved it. Joy and belonging and this sense that “Yeah, maybe things can get better. Maybe things can be good.” Because I said those things, not truly believing them, to the people I thought needed to hear it. But it couldn’t save them. It was hollow. The proof for us wasn’t really in our orbit or on our radar at the time. And now they’re gone.

People always say “it’s never too late.”

One of the people I lost said “it’s later than you think.”

I jokingly would respond “it’s already too late.”

It was for him in the end. For them. For some people I guess it really is. But maybe a lot of the “too late” people are there because they think “they know” that things will never be good for them. So they stop looking, they stop asking, stop finding. And eventually they just stop.

Then there came Crowley’s “It’s always too late.” The first time I heard it I thought “For sure, Crowley-cakes, I KNOW.”

But then…I just needed to rewatch the whole thing. And lines like that…familiar things…familiar themes…I was suddenly identifying with these characters. I suddenly saw myself. And the realization hit - I connected with something! Something new. And I FELT THAT. And that tiny little crack that made in the wall was just enough to start breaking it down. Yeah, when you start letting yourself feel after not feeling for so long, opening up to the good feelings means opening up to feelings and then the bad ones come out too. But when there IS good … it helps you balance. You can deal with the bad a little better because you’ve got the good thing to lean against when it gets too much. And now you’ve got feelings. You’ve got good and bad. You’ve got sticky foggy grey. You’ve got life.

Whew.

So, TLDR, thank you. From the bottom of my slowly healing heart, thank you.

And to sign off with some shits and giggles… I couldn’t find this in existence as a sticker so I had to custom order. Perhaps this will spread misery and panic among the humans of my city - or at least a malignant and creepy sense of unease.

Or maybe they’ll say “wtf” and go home and google it and they’ll fall into the Good Omens hole they never knew they needed too.

Thank you for this. I never quite know what to say to messages like this apart from I am really glad that it helps. (It becomes the weird extra piece that I worry about when writing season 3 -- hoping that it will be that thing again. Not just a story, but something that helps people feel and helps with healing and helps with love.)

[unearthly-doting]

yandere farmer

a/n: smth smth i Really like people w southern accents smth smth so here's a farmer. im not 100% satisfied w this one but it's been in my drafts for so long so here it is.

warnings: mdni, not proofread, yandere content, gn reader, male yandere, idk how cars work so, overprotective behavior, obsessive behavior, reader has hair in this sorry if u dont, murder, brief mention of vomit, non-con kissing, mild depictions of gore, choking, i think that's it??

— maybe it's a bit cliché but life in the big city was exhausting, and all you wanted to do was get away from it all. it was a bit sudden, deciding you wanted to uproot your entire life and start somewhere new, but you knew that this is exactly what you needed.

— and it's not as if you weren't going into this blind. a friend of yours had a family vacation home in a small farm town that hadn't been used in years, and they were willing to let you stay there until you could find a place of your own.

— you had everything planned out. you had enough money on you for gas and food for the drive there, and you had already had some of your stuff shipped off to your new temporary home, so you didn't have to worry about leaving anything behind. you even kept a little extra money on you in case you needed to crash at a motel.

— the drive had started off fine. traffic wasn't too bad as you left the city, and there were no major setbacks until you were almost at your destination. when you were 20 miles out from the farmer town you'd be living in, your car just suddenly died on you. it still had gas in the tank, and there didn't seem to be anything wrong with the car itself, it just… died.

— what's worse is the fact that your phone had no service. you suppose that's not too shocking, considering how far out in the country you are, but it's a bit shocking, isn't it? you're not that educated on farming life or this small town, but surely they had modern technology, right?

— it's cliché, honestly. it felt like the start of some cheap slasher. or maybe a southern christmas romance movie. you're not quite sure which would be worse. the slasher, realistically. whatever, you're getting off track.

— the point is, your car is dead, your phone is useless, and it's starting to get dark. you could probably make it to that motel you saw a few miles back, but you didn't really feel comfortable leaving your car out here alone. not to mention you're not even sure if you have enough money on you to cover one night at a motel.

— the universe, in all her mercy, takes pity on you before you can get too upset over your plight, because not even 20 minutes after your car stops, a truck drives by. it's beat up, but it slows to a stop next to your car. the window rolls down, revealing the driver to be a man just a little older than you.

— he asked if you needed help, and offered to tow your car and drive you to town. you didn't have much choice but to agree, and the drive to town was… not as awkward as you thought it would be, actually.

— the man introduced himself as rigby shaw, a farmer that lives on the outskirts of town. you actually drove by his farm maybe 15 miles back, and he had been heading into town to pick up some medication for one of his dogs when he saw you pacing outside your car. in turn, you told him how you were moving into the small town because life in the city had been overwhelming.

— rigby didn't think you'd survive long outside of the city. city folk rarely ever strive in small, out of touch towns, away from modern technology. the small handful that made their way here always went back to the city not even three months into being here, so he didn't expect to see you last long either. you were nicer than most city folk, though.

— but you were determined to make a living out here, so when rigby dropped you off, you got to work immediately. you unpacked your stuff that had been there waiting for you, and in the morning, you got to work trying to fix your car. turns out, your fan belt had somehow come loose just enough that your car could no longer function. why? who knows, maybe the universe was in a silly mood.

— anyways, you settled into the small town life with relative ease, and rigby was very surprised when he returned to town a few weeks later, you were still there. the only thing you were struggling with was finding a job. maybe because he was fascinated by your determination, but rigby ended up offering you a job on his farm. he did need help taking care of the crops and feeding the animals there, but he mostly just wanted to learn more about you.

— you were a fast learner, and his dogs took to you fairly quickly. the cattle and horses were a little less trusting, though that was expected. he's sure they'll take to you soon enough, given how you respect their boundaries and go at their pace unlike his previous farmhands. you had no problem taking on any challenge rigby had set up for you, and maybe that's when he started finding himself thinking about you.

— if he's out in town while you're on the farm, he's worrying that you might get injured without him around. you can take care of yourself, but he can't help but worry. same for when you're in town while he's on the farm. you’re still an outsider there, and he knows that some of the townsfolk may try scaring you off. or maybe they'll try hurting you. or maybe you'll be completely fine and he's just overreacting.

— he starts hovering around you more often when you're on his farm, jumping in to help you whenever he thinks you might be struggling with something. you think he's just worried you might fuck his crops up or something, so you never really pay much mind to his behavior. it only struck you as odd when he insisted on helping you feed the dogs of all things. was he scared you would poison them? you wouldn't, obviously, so you don't know why he'd think that.

— his behavior only seems to escalate when you meet a guy in town one day and start going on casual dates with him. he was… shocked, when you asked to take the day off because of some guy. in the months that you've been living in town, you had never shown any interest in pursuing a romantic relationship with… anyone, truly. you had always seemed so dedicated to working on the farm and making a living for yourself, rigby had never even considered you could want anything other than that.

— at first, he felt disappointed. why would you prioritize dates with some guy when you could be working on the farm with him instead? it took him a bit to realize that disappointment he was feeling was jealousy. he hated when you'd step away from him to accept calls from your new boyfriend. he hated how you stopped eating lunch with him in favor of eating it with your boyfriend.

— your boyfriend wasn't even that great of a guy. rigby did some research on him–it's not stalking, he's just making sure it's safe for you to date this guy!–and he was not pleased with what he found. you could do so much better! you didn't understand why rigby was so interested in your boyfriend, always asking questions about how he treats you, if he's really what you're looking for in a relationship, if you actually loved him…

— you couldn't help but notice how touchy rigby has become as well, his hands always lingering on you far too long when he helps you with your work. you swear that you've heard him smell your hair a few times when he's close as well. he's been acting weird ever since you officially started dating your boyfriend. he's even going as far as to pile more work on top of you, leaving little free time for you to spend with your lover.

— it's gotten unbearable to the point where you decided you ultimately needed to find a new place to work. you liked rigby, he was a great guy with a kind heart, but his behavior was bordering on obsession and you didn't want to enable this behavior by ignoring it. your boyfriend agreed, and with his help, you were able to find a job at the local market in town.

— rigby was not pleased when he heard you on the phone with your lover, talking about how you'd tell him you were quitting after you finished work.

You're not really sure what happened. One moment, you were on the phone with your boyfriend and then the next, you were being hit in the head and everything had gone dark. The sun had only just started setting when you had been knocked out, but it was completely dark outside when you had woken up.

Your head was pounding as you opened your eyes, looking around in an attempt to figure out what the hell had happened to you. You were still on the farm, that much you knew. The first thing that worried you was the fact that your hands were bound to a wooden post, leaving you unable to move without injuring yourself. Your phone was broken on the ground, so it was completely useless.

Did a trespasser knock you out? It's not the first person people have trespassed on the farm, trying to steal the horses or ‘save’ the animals Rigby had. You had assumed that to be the case, because… what else could have happened for you to be tied up like this?

“Rigby?!” You shout his name, wincing at the throbbing in your head as you did so. Was he okay? Was he hurt? What if something happened to him? What if–

Your panicked thoughts get put on pause when a light blinded you, and you shied away from it as best as you could as you tried to figure out its source. It seemed to be a flashlight, and you only realized who was holding it when they got closer.

For a moment, you relaxed at the sight of Rigby, relieved to see he was okay as he approached, though there was something off about him. Maybe it was the fact that he didn't seem injured, yet there was blood on his hands. Or maybe it was the… borderline crazed look in his eyes.

Something wasn't right.

“Rigby…?” You hesitantly called his name, your relief bleeding away into a reluctant unease, “Are you okay? What happened? Why am I tied up?”

His silence did little to help you as he set his flashlight down on the ground and started undoing your binds. Your wrists felt raw as you gently rubbed them once they were free, standing up while Rigby retrieved his flashlight.

“Rigby, what the hell is going on?” You ask, growing frustrated at being left in the dark. You had been knocked out and tied up, so you think you deserve some sort of explanation as to what had happened.

“I have a gift for you.” Rigby says, completely dodging your question as he grabbed your wrist and pulled you after him. His grip was tight, almost bruising as he dragged you along, ignoring you when you asked him to loosen his grip on you. He refused to answer any of your questions, and you were starting to get worried.

You've never been scared of Rigby. Sure, his behavior lately had been concerning, but you had no reason to be scared. But right now, you couldn't help but feel a bit afraid as he led you in the dark. Your concern only grew when you realized he was taking you to the barn the pigs were kept in.

“Will you just tell me what's going on?” Your words fall upon deaf ears as he passes the flashlight to you, motioning for you to take the lead as he opens the barn doors. You hesitate before shining the flashlight in the barn, slowly stepping forward.

Most of the pigs were sleeping in their own separate stalls, a few were watching you and Rigby with indifference as you both stepped deeper into the barn. But two things stood out to you. One, a handful of pigs were nowhere to be seen. Two, there was this weird… squelching sound coming from the back of the barn.

“It's just back there.” Rigby says, his breath hitting the back of your neck and causing you to jump. You hadn't even realized how close he had gotten. You scurry forward just to get some distance. Truthfully, you didn't want to see this ‘gift’ Rigby was talking about, but you knew that you couldn't turn back.

Deep down, you knew something horrible was about to happen. The squelching sound grew louder, and you could hear the sound of chewing along with it. When you looked back at Rigby for some sort of reassurance, he just had this strange smile on his face. It sent a chill down your spine.

And when you hesitantly looked in the last stall at the very back of the barn to see the source of the noise, your ‘gift’, you dropped the flashlight in horror and let out a scream as you stumbled back right into Rigby's arms.

On the ground was your boyfriend's corpse, his face nearly maimed beyond recognition as several pigs chewed at his body. You're lucky you're able to swallow the vomit in your throat as you try to get out of Rigby's hold, looking away from the horrific scene in front of you as you cried.

“Let go of me!” You claw at his arms, but he just holds you tightly against his chest, gently shushing you as he forces you to watch the pigs eat.

“Do you like it?” He asks, completely ignoring your horror, “It wasn't hard getting him to come here. I just told him you had an accident, and suddenly, he was on his way. Isn't that sweet? It's a shame he wasn't stronger… he never would've been able to protect you if someone tried hurting you. But I can, see? I can give you what you deserve.”

You weren't even listening to his deluded words, trying to squirm out of his hold, “You're a fucking monster.” You spit out, a sharp gasp being torn out of your mouth when he shoves you against the wall of the barn, his hand around your throat as he lightly squeezes. A subtle threat, one that had you shutting up.

“I expect some fucking gratitude, you ungrateful brat.” Rigby’s voice is cold, his anger had never been something you'd ever been on the receiving end of, “I did this for you. For us. You should be thanking me.” His hand on your throat tightens, squeezing the air out of your lungs, his gaze hard as he stares at you expectantly.

Desperate for air, you're barely able to wheeze out a small, “Thank you.”

As black spots start to fill your vision, Rigby removes his hand from your neck, and you're able to breathe again. His anger was gone, replaced with delighted satisfaction.

“Of course, darlin’.” He sweetly says, a bloodied hand coming up to gently wipe the tears off your face, “I'd do anything for you. I can provide for you, so just be good for me in return, okay?”

And as he pulls you into a kiss, his lips pressing against yours with a heated desperation, you find yourself missing the city for the first time since you left it.

[jellicatty]

‧˚꒰ TRAFALGAR LAW FALLING IN LOVE ₊

╰┈➤ contains : trafalgar law x gender neutral reader. fluff. sfw. 908 words.

╰┈➤ note : he may be a bit ooc here huhu plz forgive me ｡°(°.◜ᯅ◝°)°｡

— "You're interesting Y/N- ya"

• There’s only one thing you need in order to impress and catch the attention of Trafalgar Law: be smart. Body shape, body count, and looks do not matter to him. With intelligence alone, it’s easy to capture this man’s eyes.

• Once he’s attracted to you, expect to be showered with teasing remarks. Of course, not too many, just enough to make you flustered for the rest of the day. However, this does not mean he wants to be your significant other. Remember, this is Trafalgar Law we’re talking about. He wants to be sure if this is a feeling he wants to pursue.

• He knows the dangers of the New World and losing someone close all too well. So, I’m guessing he will never make a move (unless provoked by a near-death experience). Only stares from afar, small jokes here and there, and maybe some light touches too. It would be the end for him if you knew he was somehow attracted to you.

• You probably have to be friends before the whole ordeal happens. I can’t see Law falling in love at first sight or immediately after a few days. There has to be some deep trust and chemistry running between you.

— "This can’t be real."

• After some time, if his crush on you still hasn’t gone away, then he might consider thinking about it. Hard. Because there’s no way he, Trafalgar Law, could catch feelings for someone. He knew the day would come when he would eventually find someone and harbor feelings. But he didn’t expect it to be you, someone already dear to him.

• Well, he’s glad it was you. Since Law is a terrifying ex-warlord, supernova pirate, it would be extremely hard for him to have feelings for a civilian. Heck, he wouldn't even let himself, nor his crew, get close enough to a random person. It’s too risky.

• So he has feelings for you. Now what? He would be in full denial mode. He will deny it and will push you away. He’s angry and afraid of the connection blossoming between you two. Having lost so many people, from his own family and country to Corazon, his acknowledgment of his feelings would take a while. If he does stop pretending to be blind to his own emotions, a confession from him will be very unlikely. He’s taking this to his grave and no one can possibly know about it.

• His crew knows. Specifically, Bepo, Shachi, and Penguin. Bepo would for sure know about it first, then tell the other two about his assumption. Shachi and Penguin would quickly agree and start planning.

"Operation: get Law some game!"

• Law would be so annoyed if they knew because, first of all, only he has to know it. Second, what happens if you knew, huh? That aside, his advances towards you would be so awkward and… peculiar.

• Shachi and Penguin probably saw "Medical pick-up lines for your babe!" and gave it to Law.

• "Erythema is red. Cyanosis is blue. I get apneic when I see you!"

• Oh Law, please don't let them bring out the medical pick-up lines. He would handle the flirting himself but damn, why is it so hard now that he likes you? His smoothness is still there, but eye contact and your smile can easily break his cool.

• Speaking of your smile, Law is enchanted by it! Not only that, but by your eyes too. It doesn’t matter if the color is dark brown or blue, as long as he feels the sincerity and affection behind it, he would be head over heels. Imagine, Law getting flustered at your pretty eyes fluttering (*≧ω≦)

• He would be so soft for you and don’t take advantage of it. Just bring out your best puppy eyes and he will do anything for you (but you will hear a quiet grumble). His weakness is cute things, and if you’re someone with a face leaning on the cutesy side, then congratulations! You have Trafalgar Law wrapped around your finger. Joking, but it would really be such an advantage if you’re cute.

• Plus, he’s overprotective of you. Really, really protective. His possessiveness and protectiveness show whenever you’re in danger. Law would definitely not put you on the front lines when a battle happens. This is for your own safety, and he doesn't care if you hate him for it. He trusts your abilities, but there are enemies out of your league, especially in the New World.

• You nearly dying can push him to suddenly blurt out his feelings. It would be really random and subtle; you won’t even realize it at first. Him too, he would do it unintentionally since his emotions controlled his mouth.

• There are other ways he can confess; he would much prefer it if it was spontaneous though because thinking too much about it makes him nervous. However, he still plans ahead of time what to say to you. It wouldn’t be extravagant. Maybe a few simple words then he’s out. But...

— Words can’t describe what he’s feeling.

• No amount of words can truly convey the overwhelming emotion drowning his torn heart. He takes Y/N's hand in his and slowly moves it to where his heart resides. His heartbeat quickens with each passing second, his breath picking up pace while his eyes search theirs for the familiar beauty that entices him.

— "All of this… it’s because of you."

© jellicatty | no plagiarising please (*ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ꕤ*.ﾟ

[bigassmoonchild]

Maple Syrup

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Reader

Word Count: 2.2k

Summary: All you needed was to contain the aphrodisiac, make an antidote just in case, and go home. But working with the 141 was never that simple, and now you and Ghost would find out how it worked. Up close and personal.

Content Tags: Vague kidnapping near the beginning, Sex Pollen, Smut, PiV Sex, Fingering, Fuck or Die, Mild Dubious Consent (consent is gained after pollen gets inhaled), No use of Y/N, Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, Alpha! Ghost

A/N: Honest to god, I've been trying to write a story based on this thought alone. I can't even get it started but maybe this will get me. There also needs to be more Omegaverse written for COD, there can be some interesting stuff from it. Lmk if you want more of this, i'm exhausted <3 (p.s. I've changed the summary like, 10 times and idk how to feel about it)

Next, Headcannons, Masterlist

"Gaz, are we clear to enter?" Ghost asked into the comms. Gaz had gone into the building first, alongside Soap, to clear out the path you and Ghost would take. It was almost a straight shot, it felt too easy to get to the weapon you were there for. Maple Syrup, they had called it, even though it was an airborne weapon. You could hear a few shouts of a language, it sounded Russian but you weren't entirely sure, but you didn't have long to dwell on it as they stopped with a few gunshots.

Another few grunts came through before Gaz finally responded. "We're all clear in here, we still need to sweep a few rooms closer to Docs target, but you should be good to enter," he answered. Ghost nodded at you and led the way in, gun resting on his shoulder as he looked every which way. You knew it was a safety precaution, but you trusted Gaz.

You always trusted easily, it was in your nature. You were an Omega, and having trust in the people meant to protect you felt natural. You trusted your pack, even if you hadn't been a part of it for too long.

Maybe you shouldn't trust as easily.

Ghost shoved you into the wall next to you and started firing, bullets whistling past your ears as you ducked low. It reeked of sex, of Alphas and Omegas in heat or rut. Even through the military grade suppressant you could smell it, and it hurt. Ghost ducked around the corner, more gunshots echoing before a grunt came from him, and you heard the sound of a body dropping.

You didn't think before rounding that corner, seeing Ghost on the ground unmoving shook you. You ran your hands over him to feel for blood, but you couldn't see or feel anything. By the time you got to his shoulders, you found a needle trapped between his vest and arm, right in the meaty part of his inner-most shoulder. You plucked it off of him without thinking, tossing it to the side before pressing to feel for anything left inside.

You hadn't noticed the people advancing behind you, had ignored the calling from the comms or footsteps coming from the same direction Gaz and Soap were supposed to be in, but you felt the prick of the needle on your back. With a shout, you fell forwards, catching yourself from falling face first into the ground. You attempted to crawl forwards, get away from the men approaching from the back, but the medication they pumped into you caught up quicker than you could move.

It was with a groan that you sat up, swallowing thickly at the sickly sweet taste in your mouth. You tried wiping your face, but your hands moved slower than they felt, missing twice before wiping the area around your mouth. Pulling your hand back, a thin, dark red coating came back on them. You blinked hard, trying to remember what you had come here for.

The Maple Syrup mist. You couldn't remember much else about it, your mind moving at about the same speed as the namesake for the pollen-like substance. It was airborne. You knew that. There was something especially dangerous about it that a lot of the countries who knew about it wanted it gone. You were hired to make sure that no matter what happened, there was an anti-dote for it.

Something like that.

You blinked back into it when the door to wherever you were creaked open. You glanced up slowly, blinking at the men who entered and grabbed you, speaking loudly at you. What were they talking about? It wasn't Russian, you hadn't been in Russia or near any of their allies when you'd been grabbed.

You wouldn't understand it, your mind was moving at half the speed they were dragging you at. A few twists and turns, some scattered conversation floating around, and being dropped twice was what it took for you to be tossed into a similar room as your first. You laid face first on the ground, the cold helping to clear your head slightly.

Small cramps started in your back, twinging you every few seconds. A voice came over a loudspeaker, whatever they were saying it was something they were very pleased with. You turned, slowly, onto your back before crawling backwards to lean onto the wall behind you.

Maple Syrup. What the hell about it was so important they sent the 141 after it? Something something, military grade suppressants. The suppressants. Maple Syrup could break through military grade suppressants. You groaned, the cramps moving through your back and into your stomach. You could feel the heat, all-encompassing, starting to wash over you.

A loud, long creak echoed from the area to your left, and your head dropped to your shoulder as you turned it to look at the wall. A scent came wafting from the slowly opening crack in the wall, growing headier as the walls fully opened up. It was musky, with leather and tobacco, hints of the gunpowder you often smelled back on base. It made your mouth water.

The groan from the corner directly next to you startled you back into the present. As your eyes adjusted to the new lighting between the two rooms, a dark shape became clearer in the corner. A skull mask was lying tossed a few meters from it, and as your vision cleared up more, you could tell it was Ghost.

His head hardly moved as his eyes found yours, staring through you from beneath the balaclava.

"What's the verdict, Doc?" He grumbled, deep in his throat.

"Dosed with Maple Syrup," you whispered back, and his head fell back down between his legs.

A short, harsh sound came from him, it had to be a laugh, "then what's gonna happen to us?"

"When was your last natural rut?" You looked at him, licking your dried lips. You could see his head move sharply from your peripheral, his eyes flittering up and down. He shook his head, another dry laugh coming from him.

"It's that bad?" You nodded. "Probably since I took my last, longer leave. I think it was four or five years ago, but I don't remember," you blinked slowly. The levels of androstenone in him would be high, especially without a rut to keep him leveled, and the Maple Syrup would only force him to produce more. Too much, and he'd die of something. Whether it would be heat stroke, or dehydration you had no idea.

"If you don't pop a knot or two, you'll die. Heat stroke, maybe dehydration, but you'll die. I don't know the exact amount of androstenone inside of you, but if it gets too high you could be forced into a feral rut," you glanced over at him, his eyes scrunched shut, a low groan coming from his throat. He glanced back up to you, his eyes softened and fear started to lace his scent.

Ghost shook his head. "If I go feral, I'll kill you. I can't, Doc, I don't wanna kill you," his voice grew more strained as his sentence wore on.

"I'll be fine," you gave him a soft smile. "I'm going to go into heat, and if I don't get a knot, I'll die. I don't know if the weapon shit is able to counteract the birth control part of the suppressants, but I don't feel good. I need you to fuck me, Ghost," you whispered the last part. He shook his head. "You have my permission, so it's up to you to act," you swallowed again, eyes shutting as sweat beaded down your neck.

It was getting hot. Too hot, and you could feel your slick pooling and soaking through your pants. You could smell it, and you knew he could smell it. You could hear the panting breaths he took, the grunts he let out. A long, low growl came from him and his heavy steps inched closer to you.

Ghost grabbed you by the back of your neck, shoving you forward into the ground and scenting your throat deeply. He tore at the neck of your shirt, ripping it to let him get more of your scent. He licked a long line, sucking into the base of your neck softly as his teeth grazed along it.

He stuffed his fingers under your pants and panties, leaving you whining as two of his fingers brushed past your clit and buried into you. Even feral, the Alpha was trying to take care of you. They curled and pressed against you, leaving you writhing under him as you whined for more.

Pleasure blossomed in your abdomen, the heel of his hand grazing against your clit with each pump his fingers made, leaving you throbbing around his fingers. Ghost was able to get one more finger in you, nosing up your neck before sucking a dark hickey into your neck, teeth grazing along your neck and nipping you here and there, soothing it with a lick.

He tugged his fingers out of you, dragging your pants and panties down before shoving his down as well. He rutted his cock against your folds, soaking himself in your slick before sliding inside of you. A long, loud moan tore out of your throat as he kept sliding further and further into you, bottoming out with a growl from him.

Writhing against him with your mouth hanging open, he dragged himself out of you before rutting back in. Your nails scratched against the floor beneath you, you could feel your heartbeat in your clit and Ghost against your back.

Licking and sucking at your scent gland, Ghost dragged his face against it and growling. You could feel him throb inside of you, heat flooding you with his cum. A long whine came from your throat, hips pushing back and out against him as his fingers found your clit, rubbing in soft but quick strokes. Heat shredded through your abdomen, sliding through the rest of your body as your orgasm tore through your body.

You could feel your clit pulse with each heartbeat, his fingers not waning from stroking it, shocks flowing through you with each stroke. You thought you could feel tears pouring down your face, mouth wide open as you groaned. Ghost pulled out, letting you drop to the ground on your stomach before he flipped you over, pulling your legs to his shoulders and rocking his cock back inside of you.

Dropping your head back, your mouth still gaped open as he filled you once more. You could feel his knot catching onto you each time he thrust, leaving you whining. Ghost dropped back down, mouthing at your scent gland once more, leaving his open for your own mouth.

Pushing his balaclava away from his gland, you took licks of his for yourself. He tasted good, so good, his scent flooding into your mouth, you had to pull back just enough so that you could breathe. He grunted with each thrust, his abdomen brushing against your clit with every other thrust, your legs pushed into your chest.

Each thrust left you whining for more, faster, harder even if he couldn't hear or understand you through the feral rut. You felt tears pooling in your eyes again, dripping down your face as you gasped with each thrust, cunt throbbing around him as his knot caught more and more with every thrust until he couldn't pull out anymore. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head as you felt a sharp, stinging pain radiate from your neck before it heated into what almost felt like agonizing pleasure.

It burned white hot and you clawed at his arms, hips bucking against his, which were just barely thrusting against you, trying to pump you full and pump deep.

When he finally released your neck, he let out a long groan as his own orgasm seemed to finally wash over him. Ghost let his head drop to your shoulder, his hips trying to thrust harder and you couldn't stop yourself from biting down on his own gland in turn.

It was hard to see the way his mouth dropped open under the balaclava and his eyes roll back, but from what you could see it left you moaning against his neck.

It took you a few minutes to come back to when you released his neck. All you could taste those few minutes was Ghost, nothing more. You had to gasp for actual oxygen as his taste nearly embedded itself in your mouth.

From the moment you released his neck, to the moment you became more aware of what was happening, he had adjusted you to sitting in his lap with his back against the wall. You could hear him talking, but your mind was gone. There wasn't pain, but you weren't entirely comfortable. Your neck was sore, and your cunt was still throbbing around him.

He nuzzled your neck, lapping at your now marked gland.

Ghost wasn't entirely sure what would happen, neither of you would be able to hide the marks and even so, he would have to report this. He figured it wouldn't matter, for now, he could wait to figure everything out until you got medevacked and taken care of. Price would know what to do, he always did.

Next

[ethereallyjade]

Pick a Card: Traits of Your F/S

Choose a photo that calls to you and the cards will tell you a message. As always, this is just for fun. Do not take anything seriously or above legal or medical advice. If your interested in personal tarot readings and want to support me, check out my Paid Readings! Masterlist

1 - 2

3 - 4

Images are not mine

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Pile 1

Your F/S might wear big clothes. I'm seeing dresses, baggy clothes, or just oversized things. I'm getting somewhat emo vibes or they might just like black clothing. They are great at keeping optimism and picking themselves back up after periods of grief. Your F/S might have a hard time connecting with others or has had a bit of a rough past in terms of relationships. They could be a bit of a rebel as well or just crave more freedom in their lives. Back to their looks, their clothes might stand out in some way. Something about them or their personality is bold, but they don't even mean to be. They might have a very simple look, but it's so different from those around them that it comes off as bold, because I'm picking up on a very quiet and even reserved energy from them so I don't think their looks are a very conscious choice on their part. Either way, I'm still seeing that they're confident in themselves and have a leader like potential.

Pile 2

Clumsy, and colorful. Might wear sweaters or hoodies a lot. Could have an affinity towards churches? Or maybe really likes historic buildings or museums. Likes to travel. Likes the ocean. They are independent and trust their own decisions. They might move homes a lot and don't like living in one area for too long. They might live or be from somewhere with a cold climate. They have a humble upbringing. Could have come from a broken home, divorced parents, low income, or even faced homelessness at some point, but I'm seeing that they're ready to move on from that or have already. All in all, they're a very talented person and they're ready to take their opportunities. They might be from a different country than you.

Pile 3

Clean, smooth, "Must be perfect." Maybe their a Virgo lmao. I'm seeing that they can be the type of person to put up a front. They appear as well put together, mature, clean, and may even be seen as a leader of sorts, but on the inside they're definitely struggling with something. They might be a really naive person, and find themselves often being taken advantage of by those around them. This could also be taken as they're a very emotional person and need to learn how to put up this courageous front so that they stop being taken advantage of. As far as physical appearance goes, I'm seeing someone who's blond, medium length hair. Might like wearing blues and greens, dresses or long shirts. They might like to accessorize themselves. They may also be the type to really dress up when they leave the house, but dress very casual or im hearing 'bummy' behind closed doors lol.

Pile 4

They like hanging out with friends or even partying and drinking. They love to travel. I'm seeing a very happy and positive person hear. Maybe they can be randomly contemplative or have big dreams which is something their friends find odd about them because they usually have a kind of careless and partying type of personality. On the flip side, I can also see this as being someone that does not like to party. Maybe they're surrounding friends have a careless, parting attitude towards life and they want to break free of that and work towards something they find important. They might not be very close with their friends or feel like they've never fit in with their friend group, and again, dream of going somewhere else or leaving to find their people. They might contemplate moving overseas, so they might either be a foreigner to you or maybe you both move to a new country together. For physical traits, they might have curly hair. I'm seeing a lot of the color red. That might be their favorite color, or a color they wear a lot. Maybe their hair is red. I'm also seeing that they might get dressed up often.

[python333]

what's a noise to an eardrum? — python³

― ― ― ―

synopsis you've been on a mission for a while, and instead of going back to your quarters after coming back, you head to ghost's.

relationships platonic!ghost & gn!reader.

characters simon "ghost" riley.

word count 2.2k

warnings ghost's pov, 2nd person pov [you/your/yourself], sleep deprivation, bad cliches, bad writing, might be ooc

note hey gang!!! i think i got all the warnings since this is pretty lighthearted considering what i usually post, so enjoy :) lmk your thoughts!

Ghost was sitting at his desk―in his own sleeping quarters, since it’s technically past curfew and he doesn’t need any trouble from recruits about him being in his office after hours, the annoying little shits―typing away at his computer, trying to get a report on his latest assignment done before going to bed.

He’s had a little bit of trouble sleeping lately. Not to say that it’s your fault, but it’s definitely your fault. He doesn’t necessarily need you around to go to sleep, but since you volunteered for a mission a week ago, he’s been a little on edge. Originally, it would’ve been Soap and a few other sergeants heading out to a small town in some country down in Central America, but you took the place of Soap after Price had explained the mission. 

It could technically be done by one person, he’d said in short, but it’s quicker to send out a squadron than a single soldier.

You weren’t the best sniper they had, but you had enough experience with it for Price to approve of you going with one other person to keep watch of you. The long duration of the mission was really to be blamed on how often your target had been moving, leaving you with little room to take any shots. It wasn’t too important of a mission, however―as long as you didn’t miss your target in the end―so Ghost is sure Price is glad that he only had to send out one soldier instead of around six or seven.

Still, despite how there was little to no chance of you coming out of this mission in multiple pieces, Ghost found himself worried; something he, admittedly, feels for a lot of the soldiers here. His worry for you is different, though. Maybe it’s an age thing. Maybe it has something to do with how he’s seen you grow over the years that you’ve been here, and how close you’ve gotten to going from a Private to a Lance Corporal. It’s a relatively low rank for someone in the 141, which only makes him―dare he admit it―prouder. A weird feeling lingers in his mind when the word proud comes to mind as he thinks of you, but he ignores that feeling, instead opting to focus on the report he so desperately wanted to finish.

Despite his usual sleep aversion, he finds himself wanting to sleep for once.

Just as he gets to the middle of his report, he hears a knock at the door. Before Ghost can even say anything, he hears the door open, and his head whips around to see who would decide that it’s a good idea to enter his room without his permission. Though, all of his confusion and building anger dissipates the moment he sees that it’s you. Fresh from medical, he can safely assume, seeing the various bandages and bruises on you, and that odd too-clean smell that’s sticking to you. You look so exhausted, it’s almost funny. Almost. 

You close the door behind you and Ghost turns his head back to his laptop. It’s not that he doesn’t want to look at you, but it’s a little harder to when you look so disheveled. He hears a few footsteps, then the squeaking of bed springs, and a sigh before the rustling of bed sheets. In the faint reflection of his computer screen, Ghost can just barely see you getting comfortable under the covers of his bed, seeming to fully disregard his presence. He doesn’t mind, though. He gets it; that feeling after being on guard for so long, not sure how much of it you can let down even though you’re back on base, and that strange structureless feeling where you wish you had bones but only feel like flesh. 

It’s odd, put simply. When Ghost thinks of the feeling, he thinks of the age-old question, if a tree falls in a forest and nobody is around to hear it, does it make a sound? The feeling is like a constant questioning of what you’re experiencing, the wonderance of whether or not you can feel safe if the safest you’ve ever felt is a feeling lost somewhere beyond you. If you lose a feeling, was it ever felt? If you lost safety, were you ever safe, or, as Maslow would put it, were you always missing that basic need? Ghost knows plenty about missing safety. He knows that his mind blanks when he tries to think about the last time he felt safe before the 141. 

He knows that you know plenty about missing safety, too. Not a lot, because you never say enough to clue him in on just how much you’re missing, but he has his suspicions. Some are confirmed, others mere theories, but still―he knows you well enough. That’s why you’re in his room, not saying a word, just breathing heavily into his pillow and trying to garner warmth from his blanket. He can see you staring at him from the bed. He’s sure you want him to say something, and because it’s you that’s looking at him, he does.

“Back already?” Ghost asks dryly, drawing a small huff out of you. 

“Soap said y’missed me,” you reply, making Ghost scoff, “when he visited me in the infirmary.” 

“Too big of a mouth on ‘im,” Ghost saves the draft of his report, deciding to just save writing it for another time, instead closing out of the program and hovering his finger over the power button on his keyboard, “don’t know how y’managed to understand him.” 

You hum and sit up in Ghost’s bed, the blankets rustling again, and as Ghost’s screen goes black, he turns around to see you sitting up with the blankets wrapped around you like a jacket. He blinks at you, before raising an eyebrow at your position.

“Ruinin’ my blankets?” he asks, though sounding barely offended, “After walking in unannounced besides that little knock?”

“Ruin’s a pretty strong word,” you argue, “and it wasn’t a little knock. It was loud. Practically echoed off the walls.”

Ghost can sense your sarcasm from a mile away, but continues to play along, leaning back in his chair. You look a little more tired covered in blankets, he thinks, those dark circles under your eyes are a little more pronounced. He sees them a lot. Those darkened semi-circles that he used to think were just a part of you, some kind of skin condition, but later realized they were a product of your sleep deprivation. It would’ve been his first thought had he not always seen you with the bags under your eyes, but after going on leave with you―a few months ago, back to his small house, after you had admitted that you preferred staying with him to going back to your dingy apartment―and witnessing you getting proper rest, seeing those circles get a little lighter, he knew that it was more of a sleep issue. 

He’s gone through his fair share of sleeping problems. He still goes through them; everyone in the military does, he’s sure. Ghost used to think that he took the brunt of it, compared to the rest of the task force, not because of the missions but because of what came before the missions. He’s changed his way of thinking since then, has opened up his mind a little more beyond the idea of suffering more than someone else in a specific sense, but he still had that feeling that he took on the majority of nightmares. The word “nightmare” feels a little juvenile for him, but until someone creates a better word for the repulsive things he sees after closing his eyes and just barely drifting asleep, that’s what he’s stuck with. 

“You better hope y’didn’t wake anyone up with it, then,” Ghost hums, “I doubt anyone wants to be awake right now.” 

He sees a small smile grow on your face and small spots of blood arise from beneath the cracked skin of your lips. 

“Everyone here sleeps like a rock as far as I know,” you reply, before pausing, considering, “maybe except for the guys who came in a few weeks ago.”

“I’m sure they’ll be gone by next month,” Ghost tells you, his tone almost reassuring, “I don’t think they can handle any of… this.” 

“You don’t think they can handle your bullying?” you scoff, making Ghost huff out a small laugh, “Weak.” 

“Not everyone’s as strong as you, unfortunately,” Ghost hums sarcastically, getting up from his chair and walking the short distance over to his bed where you’re sitting. Automatically, you move so that Ghost can sit down next to you.

You’re both silent for a little bit. Ghost can see the few healing bruises on your face a little clearer here. Small dark yellows and reds on the sharper points of your face, the parts where the bone is a little closer to the skin, particularly your cheeks and a few over your jawline and near your chin. They’re a bad look on you, not because Ghost doesn’t think you can handle yourself, but because he knows that you can handle yourself, so the only way you could’ve gotten those bruises is if you were forced into a corner. He would consider that they were an accident, somehow self-inflicted, but he knows better than that. 

“Are you tired?” Ghost asks, even though he knows the answer.

“I haven’t slept in a few days.” There it is.

“And for the few days that you did sleep?” He thinks he knows the answer to this too.

“I don’t know if you can really call it that.” Bingo.

It’s not surprising to him. Not only has he been on enough missions with you to know how hard it is for you to sleep outside of the base, but he’s managed to get you to actually tell him about your sleeping struggles. He knows. He watches you subtly kick off your boots, letting them fall over onto their sides, as if you could read his mind and know what he’s going to request next.

“Lay down,” Ghost puts a bare hand on your clothed shoulder and lightly pushes at it, prompting you to lean back onto your side, settling into the bed with the blankets still wrapped around you.

Ghost doesn’t mind the lack of blankets he’s getting. As long as you’re the one hogging them, he finds it easier to go without them, strangely enough. He lays down onto the bed next to you, his head naturally above yours, and neither of you bother to change positions. He doesn’t attempt to pull the blankets from you, and you don’t try to move away from him, the both of you simply existing together in one small space with nothing interrupting you two. A thin layer of air, similar to the blanket covering you, seems to cover the both of you, not trapping you together but instead comforting the both of you. The air feels woven from Ghost’s thoughts, yarn strewn from his cerebral cortex, emotions run through an invisible loom to create the beautiful quilt that covers the both of you. 

Ghost’s hand comes up to thumb at the edge of his balaclava, and he pulls it up the tiniest bit, but then pauses to think.

He knows that if you just turn your head up the tiniest bit, you’ll see his face. The blonde stubble peeking out from under his skin, the small dent forming in the middle of his nose from the constant wearing of his balaclava, and possibly the most embarrassing of all, that small smile he wears that pulls at his already cracking lips that draws blood on occasion. Despite all of this, he pulls his face covering all the way off, and tosses it onto his desk. Your face doesn’t move an inch despite how obvious it is that some kind of fabric has hit the desk. 

He considers saying thank you, but Ghost doesn’t deem it necessary. You’re so close to sleeping that he doesn’t want to risk ruining your chances by talking to you. So, instead, he just brings his arm over your side and lets his hand reach up into the nape of your neck to toy with the small hairs tapering off there. They’re short enough that he’s essentially just brushing his fingers against the skin of your neck, but he assumes you don’t mind, considering how you continue to not move. You stay still peacefully, soft breaths leaving you as your body starts to actually relax.

So you weren’t lying about your lack of sleep, he thinks, his own eyes slowly closing, not that I thought you were, anyway.

Your breathing creates the perfect white noise to him. The vibrations emitting from your larynx that escape your mouth reach his ear canals, where they bounce off of his eardrums, and move down from his middle ears to his inner ears where the nerve endings that live there turn the vibrations into electrical impulses and are translated by his brain into actual sound. The translation sounds like more than just a simple sound, though; it’s like your breathing is translated into actual words rather than breathing, words like safe and guarded. Those small vibrations bounce around in his ears and turn into syllables, then eventually whispers, then firm speech. 

Those words are like music to his ears, as cliché as it is, and he cherishes every word he hears―more than he’ll ever let you know.

[oh-saints]

You could write something like friends with benefits with Ruben Dias but he really falls in love w reader 😬 ? you can decide the rest just make it angst

you really can blame back to december (taylor's version) for this. who's ready?

saudade

(portugese) a deep emotional state of melancholic longing for a person or thing that is absent; desiderium.

it was a word rúben only learnt in front of his oldest flame. his favourite flame. however, between the two of them, did time heal everything?

rúben dias x doctor!reader word count: 4.5k prompts: above + summer fling + @julianalvarez9's post here (sorry, girlie, gotta twist your idea a bit) tw: explicit foreplay but suggestive smut 👀 note: y'all can blame ms. swift's newly released album, okay? well, aside from the depressive mood lately and recent work stress, the particular song kickstarted me to write my arse off like i just broke up with my ex (when it's an old news already lol). but as usual, i happen to write this at dawn so not beta-read yet. song: back to december + all too well

“oh, there she is!”

oh for the love of god, you know you were late, okay? when you hadn’t stopped running back and forth for two consecutive days straight to save everyone and their mother’s lives, it was pretty understandable to take the chance of hibernating the first thing you had a day off, right?

“after an eon of disappearing,” the groom—your favourite cousin but god did he love basking attention—raised his glass towards you, and you could only smile his way through the gritted teeth. “I’m glad you decide to grace us with you presence, Your Majesty.”

but of course your family wouldn’t understand that, for they lived a totally different lifestyle to yours, despite begging you to enrol yourself to the most prestigious medical school. ironic now that they were the ones who always begged you to come home when you felt like you’ve moved to your home the moment you got accepted to the most reputable cardiology and cardiothoracic department in the country.

so you smiled wider—for the appearance, of course—but you said nothing back.

you were still regulating your breaths, palpable by your huffs and puffs as you took the empty seat—god if the bridezilla got mad because you took the wrong seat, you’d fight her because it was already a sacrifice on your end to drag your ass to this weekend full of wedding festivities—and before you could do anything else, a glass of water was shoved your way gently.

“you look like you need one.”

you were not surprised by the voice. he sounded like he looked like—rough, buff, strong, bulk. you were rather surprised at the small smile thrown your way when he handed you the crystal, filled with clear liquid.

oh, the choice of drink, too, by the way. in a weekend that would soon be filled with endless flow of champagne and other alcoholic and questionable options, he chose still water.

realising you were still eyeing the glass in his hand, his demeanour changed slightly. “not a fan of water?”

“I thought you’re kind of a beer guy.”

your response sent him into a laughing fit because honestly, rúben was expecting you to throw a flirty banter. with an evening gown that rocked a thigh slit as high as the bride’s ego, you looked more ready to have some fun from the get-go.

but the sound of that deep, masculine laugh did wonders to you. heat immediately run through your entire body, and you immediately knew you liked it more than you thought you should because you kept wanting more. more of his laugh, more of his voice, more of his smiles, more of his scent. more of him.

“it’s too early for that, no?”

with the way he lifted his eyebrows teasingly, you almost questioned your decision to become a doctor. you’d definitely been missing out this special specimen beside you, due to burying yourself in between your patients’ body—literally, in order to save their lives. you really need to go out more often.

or maybe, you need to step up the game while you can before hospital took your fair share of fun as soon as you landed back home. shivers ran down the underside of your arms at the last thought.

fuck it, then. if there was one thing hospital taught you the hard way, it was to might as well enjoy things while it lasted.

you grabbed the glass of water from his hands—his skin felt exactly like it seemed—before signalling for two flutes of champagne. the server went to grab your request as you shoo away your thirst with the water and then proceeded to down the champagne when the server was back in the vicinity, all while never straying your eyes from his. “in Italy, nothing’s too early, no?”

and that was another laugh you’d come to like. god, if coffee did no longer work on your bloodstream, someone should get her that as her daily fix of adrenaline dose before her night shift started.

the man in front of you took his portion of champagne and said his thanks, his eyes held yours like there was no tomorrow. despite the roughness in his facial features, stubbles and all, his smile was warm. and for you, the whole combination was what made your knees weak.

how could someone look so sexy and smug in all his friendliness?

“it’s rúben, by the way.”

with the small smirk slowly tugging the corner of his lips as he sipped the champagne, rúben should really consider himself lucky you didn’t jump on him and replaced the crystal flute under his lips instead.

＊✿❀○❀✿＊＊✿❀○❀✿＊＊✿❀○❀✿＊

despite your initial dislike towards the bride—purely because you thought she had a severe princess disease—you tried so hard not to rain in her parade. no matter what, it was still her special day, probably one she’d been dreaming since she was a toddler.

also, have you mentioned that the groom was one of your favourite person on earth?

so you didn’t even dare to move anywhere outside the safe sanctuary of your table because you knew you’d be bombarded by the elders for how rarely you showed your face again in family functions like these, or for how you could not even show up with a boyfriend in tow. amongst the lineage, you were the only one left without a lover or some sort, but instead of draining your energy to explain how exhausting it was to live so that other people can live too, you stayed put.

that, and the fact that rúben provided 1001 reasons why you should stay behind with him. yes, sexiness aside, you found yourself able to converse so many things outside the medical jargons and it kind of made you miss it—the ordinary life everyone else was leading. you missed talking about the latest blockbuster movie, you even missed wearing something else than the hospital scrub and your favourite crocs for more than 10 hours straight.

you even missed the flirting phase, thanks to rúben’s impeccable ability to chime in some subtle but straightforward seduction. rúben himself already exuded some hotness, his laugh and words managed to shoot some warmth throughout your body, and the champagne tripled the heat all over you.

rúben was only downing another glass of negroni and you were only watching the liquid move from his mouth to his throat, but you needed to excuse yourself. your brain was no longer cooperating with every other organ intact to your body—you couldn’t shouldn’t think all of these forbidden thoughts inside of your mind because rúben had been nothing but a gentleman, yet you were the one who kept wanting to cross the line.

yes, rúben might’ve dropped some not-so discreet touches down your arms, on top of your knees, under your knees. yes, he twirled with your unkempt hair, tucked them behind your ears. but the groom used to do that all the time with you, just to tease you around, so what made this time different?

“I thought you hit the jackpot or something.”

and there was rúben again, his voice matched the concern written all over his face. even in times like this, when her inside was a mess all over, rúben managed to think of her well-being. damn it, he really made it so hard for you to contain the burning desire.

there, she said it. desire—a word so foreign in her dictionary recently, for she’d momentarily lost her want to study the human anatomy since the moment she walked into this party late.

“what, you’d run away or something if I did?”

despite you hyperventilating earlier, as you ran towards a balcony of this huge Italian castle looking for air, you were sure rúben couldn’t see a trace of it anymore. you were already sporting the provocating look you’d come to realise only come into the surface when stirred right—aka only rúben managed to do so by far.

and only rúben could take the outmost pride in enticing such vixen from her hiding place. you wouldn’t have braved the face to sport such dangerous dress if you didn’t have the energy in you, and he was more than glad you ended up taking your seat beside his, despite knowing you were supposed to be seated somewhere else later into the night, for he could satisfy himself with the sly and slightly naughty look you only threw his way whenever he wanted.

he’d be the worst liar on this planet if he said he wasn’t tempted to kill distance between your lips and his, so many times tonight. but his father taught him courtesy, and to do such radical act in a room full of other people’s guests would be an insolence and disrespect to the bride and groom.

but now that the matter of prying eyes was gone…

“I’d brush your teeth, of course,” a small gasp from you didn’t escape his ears. “what do you take me for?”

you smiled but you were shaking your head disapprovingly as you folded your arms in front of you. “when are you going to stop being a gentleman, rúben?”

“why should I?” the man stepped closer to you, and you wished he was still wearing the dark blue vest because you certainly couldn’t handle those specs ghosting behind the white shirt. “do you want me to be a bad guy?”

but you couldn’t also deny you’d want to see those chiselled chest. combined with that smirk and fascinating kind of mirth dancing in his eyes, would you be dead and sent to heaven? “can you?”

you were both now so close, rúben only needed to lift your chin towards his face to claim your lips. “oh, is that a challenge?”

he could easily did, by the way, with the way your lips were gaping as soon as he gripped his chin gently. but he decided to tease you more, as his nose reached down to touch yours while his body pushed you to the railing, giving him the excuse to catch your body in his arms.

your brain was now completely unwired, your limb was moving the way rúben orchestrated yourself like a maestro to his favourite instrument. all you remembered was to hold on to the back of rúben’s neck and the side of his strong arm, as he gathered you in his sturdy embrace, and chanting don’t fall, don’t fall to your now-airhead.

when he finally tipped your chin to his desired angle and your lips caressed one another, your breath turned shaky and it gave him an immense sense of pride. he’d been wanting to have this, dropping hints here and there so you’d let yourself free of expressing your inner self, because he knew you wanted the same thing too.

“what do you want?”

if anyone went wet at his usual voice, wait until you heard this version of rúben.

you could already feel yourself turning into a weak excuse of a puddle. your brain was melting, your inside was evaporating.

“tell me what do you want, baby, and I’ll give ‘em to you.”

it wasn’t that you were shy to voice them, but it was because you couldn’t find the words. funny how you could read endless words and medical jargons and yet, gone was everything inside and outside of yourself, including your so-called dignity you were often praised for when you were doing your rounds, when he dropped the word baby to call you with.

so you raised yourself on your tiptoes and pushed yourself towards him.

“uh, oh,” damn it, you forgot he was a footballer. he was paid to use his reflexes on weekly basis. avoiding your advances were nothing against his job. “words, baby.”

“you,” you managed to breathe out the simplest word you could find in the currently short-circuited brain of yours, but the very word seemed to please the man, whose smirk went wider oh-so sexily. “want you, rúben.”

if it wasn’t for the fireworks going off at the background five minutes later, rúben would’ve succeeded in making you fall apart in record time. but rúben didn’t know the word give up so while he kept to himself for the remaining of the night, he’d come looking after you as soon as the party ended and everyone went back to their respective suites.

you, too, certainly didn’t see this coming. but when rúben immediately kissed you senselessly as soon as you opened the door—well, as soon as he pushed you inside and opened your pathetic excuse of bathrobe, that is—you weren’t complaining. you even helped him shed the rest of your fabrics before unbuttoning all of his, all without separating yourself from him, because the last time you did, you never got the chance to chase your high.

“but, rúben, tomorrow’s the wedding!” you squealed as he lifted your body, your legs immediately locked your position against the large man, as he walked you both to your bed. “we’re so gonna be late, rúben.”

he was peppering your neck with kisses as he placed you down the mattress, rousing giggles from your end. “that will give them a story to tell, no?”

“you’re crazy—oh, oh,” the crispiness of your laughter was interrupted by the sensation of rúben’s tongue devilishly sucking your sensitive spot. “oh, fuck! fuck, rúben, fuck!”

if his tongue wasn’t twirling the bruising skin so well to soothe the pain, you’d smack the smile you felt against your skin. “well, they say that what happens in Italy, stays in Italy.”

“I think you’re mistaken for what happens in las vegas, stays in las vegas—oh, fuck, rúben…! don’t fucking stop.”

“is that so?” oh, how dare he stop?! you sat up when rúben halted the wet ministrations of his tongue against your breasts, about to protest the footballer, when he pinched your budding nipples. your head immediately fell back to the pillow, surrendering yourself instead. “can’t seem to remember. you keep distracting me, meu anjo.”

the sensation of his warm saliva against the coldness of his fingers’ pads were unlike no other that you mewled out the loudest moan you’d ever done. so disgusting you had to bring down his lips towards you to shut yourself up. “should we go to las vegas instead?”

“tonight?” rúben popped a now-hardened nipple of yours, and the sight was definitely something you could not erase from your memory. “I can call my plane.”

“don’t tempt me, rúben, because we know this weekend is going to be boring from the looks of it.”

“let’s bring las vegas to us, then.”

long story short, rúben brought you las vegas and its glory every chance he got during the weekend.

＊✿❀○❀✿＊＊✿❀○❀✿＊＊✿❀○❀✿＊

“must we go back to reality tomorrow?”

the giant central back chuckled at your submission. you were tucked under his arms, your fingers were drawing air on his chest, and somehow he knew you were pouting as you did so. it never ceased his wonder how you could be a temptress for a minute, then turned into a cutie-patootie—your words, not his—the next second.

it never ceased his wonder too as to how you’d always spurt out the same question all over again, every weekend you both got the chance to escape reality, despite knowing the definite answer of yes, we all have a life to lead tomorrow from him.

many of your colleagues had inquired about your relationship with the familiar face they’d seen over the weekend on their TV screens, but you didn’t know what to answer them. you were texting and flirting all the time but you were certainly wasn’t dating. you had sex, and you happened to repeat them whenever things got tough for either of you.

it was starting to become a vicious cycle, you and him. it was an impending doom, escaping the harsh reality only to seek for harsh and explosive sex instead of facing them head first.

he should’ve said no to every of your calls, but you crying over another life you failed to save wasn’t something in his card to ignore.

you should’ve said no to every of his calls, purely because you knew you were another rebound or another anger fuck from the losing game, but you didn’t have the energy in you to think of any reason to say no, not when you’ve racked your brain to save the failing life of your patients.

you both became a constant fixture, the only thing guaranteed good, when all else failed in your respective lives.

including the romantic aspect of your life.

but how could it not fail when rúben always picked up your calls when you had a bad day—that bad that you didn’t have the energy to have sex with him? he’d listened to you crying before stopping yourself, he’d listened to the silent you gave him because you were processing things. he’d listened to them all before offering to pick you up from work, no matter how stupid it looked like for him to slide in his vehicle at 5 in the morning when he had to be back at the training centre at 9 sharp.

when he couldn’t be around when you were having a mental breakdance, rúben would send you and your team a mini buffet for your lunch so you could share happiness the same way you shared him your devastation. so you could be back on your feet in no time because time is of essence for your job, your patients need you to be strong and healthy so they too could do and feel the same.

rúben—bless him—even spared his time to visit your patients when december came around the corner. he’d cheered them up, like the way he always did around you and for you, and even gave the kids and their caretakers gifts so they didn’t feel bored spending the festive holiday at the hospital. the next week, he brought over his entire football team just because one of the elder patients said he was a fan of his team.

he did all that, like a true gentleman you’d met the first time at your cousin’s Italian wedding, only to drop you the biggest nuclear bomb right on top of your head, right on christmas eve.

it was a dinner hosted by one of his teammates. he’d asked you to come because he knew you didn’t prepare for any last minute plan when your surgery schedule fell through—the patient died before you could save her—and thought the merry atmosphere would turn your sour mood to a better one.

you, from the beginning, didn’t want to go because you didn’t feel like intruding. and maybe, you shouldn’t have come.

the host, rúben’s captain, asked what kind of relationship you both were having, just as you were about to call for the men to join the women in the kitchen because the food were all ready to be served by now. but you never joined either side because of rúben’s answer.

“I’m getting married,” you remembered vividly. “she was nothing but a good fuck.”

＊✿❀○❀✿＊＊✿❀○❀✿＊＊✿❀○❀✿＊

but that was—what, five years ago?

you’d moved on with life, and that included moving far away from home to london. you obtained your specialist degree and was now under the tutelage of the best cardiovascular professor in town. you were often credited as prof. nagelsmann’s golden child because of how much the professor adored you, for your vast knowledge and eagerness to learn, as well as your hardworking attitude.

if people knew that you were studying till you broke your neck and had constant nosebleed till exhaustion took over your body at first only to put your mind somewhere else…

well, they didn’t need to know that. people only needed to know that you lived and breathed for the hospital now, because you’d now come to terms that life and death was two of the things that you were sure of to happen. nothing else were as definite as those two.

well, maybe also the jinx when you stashed away your hospital scrub for ordinary clothing as you clocked out of your shift.

as soon as your junior called your name, just five steps beyond the hospital territory, not even your car in sight yet, you knew you had to go back inside and save your kdrama marathon for another time. “code blue?”

your junior nodded and immediately jumped to describe the dire emergency. you were also handed the patient’s medical record. “male, 35 years old with CoA[1]. his stent’s infected so we have to do replacement but his CT scan shows hemothorax[2] and raptured aorta as well.”

your legs wanted to give away when your eyes spotted the name.

it’s ivan dias.

＊✿❀○❀✿＊＊✿❀○❀✿＊＊✿❀○❀✿＊

rúben couldn’t believe his eyes.

there you were, explaining the whole procedure his brother would be going through. clad in your hospital scrub with no make-up, you were still as beautiful as he’d remembered. not even signs of time grazing your skin, as if the cold temperature of the operating theatre froze away the concept of time from your face.

your natural look was what initially drew him into you. in a room full of people caking their faces in the latest make-up trend, you definitely stood out in his eyes. you even outshone everyone else, including the bride, if he was being honest. and when he found out you were more than a pretty face, it didn’t take him another minute to settle his decision to make you stay behind in the table with him, so no one else could take you far away from him.

possessive, people would say to him. a trait he thought he’d hated in everyone else, but a trait that turned out to be something that showed up only whenever you were concerned.

but god, did rúben want you. so bad he felt like he could kill anyone else who casted you a seductive glance, despite you not acknowledging them.

and it made him hate himself because he was turning to be everyone else he’d come to hate. he didn’t want to be selfish, he didn’t want to push everyone else for what he solely wanted. he didn’t want you all for himself—he shouldn’t want you all for himself.

you both were only friends after all.

at least, that was rúben used to think of. because who the hell listened to another person crying for hours, if not for friends? who the hell picked up another person at 5 in the morning, if not for friends? who the hell reminded another person to eat so they could take care of their patients, if not for friends?

so he did everything he could, including dating around till he painted the town as red as the possessiveness he wished to hide, in hope he could diminish this niggling feeling that was bothering him day and night. he sought help and read endless books, just so he could validate the peculiar emotions he was feeling, that only vanished when you were around.

but nothing satisfied him. nothing was the answer to his long-standing question. even when he decided to jump the big gun and got married with someone else that didn’t even understand a simple arithmetic question, rúben still felt the gnawing hole inside of him, that was still thirsty of something he didn’t know of.

the hole grew into a big, black, gaping hole as his marriage went on. the hole even swallowed the existence and the idea of the two of them, the couple that could perfectly plaster the covers of bridal vogue, into a mere memory, burned to ashes and blown to the sky.

even then, too, rúben only wanted to see you. because being around you always brought strange waves of calmness to him.

so he did, only to find you go off the grid for good. he’d asked for you to everyone he knew and everyone he thought could possibly knew of your existence, to no avail. he’d thought of going to your home and asked to your parents but he decided to go against it because he respected you and your decision—he always does from the first moment he met you.

he remembered he didn’t even want to touch you until you succumbed yourself entirely to his palm, and he promised you he’d do that and he intended to keep his end of words, be it when you were around or not. he could only pray to God to meet you again in due time and course, when you were ready to see him again.

but now… god, did he want to scream out loud in happiness. you were still as gentle as ever, having handled fragile lives in your hands of both the parents and the guardians. your voice still reminded him of an umbrella under a blazing hot day, as you elaborated ivan’s condition to his parents. your hands still reminded him of a silk handkerchief tucked properly under one’s suit, as you touched his parents in reassurance.

only then did he realise that this sharp feeling inside of him, only you could provoke such intense emotions like a dagger stab to his heart, was longing.

he’d longed to have you in his arms again, despite having you there all his previous times with you. he’d longed to have you around him again, despite being around you. no distance was still a distance per his standard. and he realised he’d made the biggest mistake by not proclaiming you when he had the chance.

fuck possessiveness, he wanted you back.

after all these years, he still wanted you so bad.

“I knew you’d succeed,” rúben sat down with two cans of your choice of beer. “I haven’t had the chance to congratulate you. congratulations, by the way.”

“thank you,” while you flashed him a smile, you smiled rather awkwardly and scooted further away from him. like you were scared of him. like a child was scared of what a stranger had in their hands. “i—”

he didn’t like that you were getting further away from his reach. he couldn’t launch his old moves on you again if you did. “I hope you still like Budweiser.”

“I do, but I’m sorry, do I know you?”

but it seemed like he’d lost you now, the way he’d lost you years ago.

[1] coarctation of aorta; a birth defect in the aorta, where it is far narrower than normal, blocking the blood flow to the body. on severe cases, it is so narrow that it can back up the blood flow to the left ventricle, forcing the muscle there to work twice as hard in order to distribute blood the way it’s supposed to be.

[2] hemothorax; a presence of blood is detected between the chest wall and the lungs. commonly, may be caused by blunt trauma or by complication of a disease.

[fictionalmenxyn]

She’s the Lieutenants girl

Summary: Y/n is a nurse for the military especially Task Force 141 and lucky for her that’s Ghost’s team. After a small injury with a new recruit and that recruit being flirty. What does Ghost make him do?

Tw: mentions of small cuts/ injury and mentions of knives

Y/n had always known that working as a nurse for Task Force 141 about how dangerous your job was. But you loved the thrill of the work and knowing that you was helping your country in your own way. What made it even better was that your boyfriend, Ghost, was also a part of the squad. You were sitting at your desk catching up on filling out documents and files for any injured people and what medication they may have needed to take. You were just about to move onto the next file when there was a knock at your door. You beckoned “come in!” The person was actually Ghost. Looking up you saw the man that you had been waiting to see today. He spoke “Hey love, how’s work?” You nodded “alright so far.. what have you been up to?” He answered “me and Soap have been helping out and training the new recruits” you smiled and asked “how has that been?” You got up out of your chair and walked over to him and gave him a hug. He smiled under the mask and spoke “alright till Johnny was placing the knives back and had cut his hand.. that’s why we are both here” you looked behind to see Soap walk on over. You smiled and spoke “hey Soap, how bad is it?” He answered “not that bad maybe butterfly stitches at most” you nodded and walked over to the medical cupboard and started to clean Soap’s wound. After finishing up Ghost spoke “we are planning on going to a near by food place, Soap mentioned it and we were wondering if you wanted to join after your done?” You smiled at Ghost and spoke “I’d love to join, I only have about fifteen minutes left so I won’t be too long” Ghost spoke “ok, me and Soap will wait out here for you then.” You nodded and went on your tippy toes to give Ghost a kiss on the cheek as you walked back over to your desk. It’s now been a few minutes and it’s been a bit too quite. But as you were putting away all the files you managed to finish; there was a knock at your door so you beckoned them in. Turns out it was one of the new recruits Ghost is mentoring. You spoke “so how can I help you?” The young boy replied “I’ve got a cut in between my thumb and index finger.” He jokingly added “those bloody throwing knives are lethal” you chuckled and ushered him over to the small bed and said “once you first use them it’s hard but once you get the grip and stuff right, they are really handy to use” you was now taking care of a new recruit who had just got injured during training. You were cleaning up his wound when you heard a knock on the door. You knew it was Ghost and he must have come to check if you were finishing up. But before you could finish dressing up the wound, the recruit started to flirt with you. You tried to be polite and kept your distance, but the boy kept flirting. "So do you have a boyfriend?" the boy asked. "Maybe," you replied, knowing where he was going with this. The boy then asked you out for a date, but you politely declined, telling him that you were already going on a date that afternoon. He asked “with who?” As if on cue, Ghost spoke from behind you, "I am, aren't I, my love?" Y/n smiled, feeling relieved that Ghost had arrived at the right time. The new recruit was shocked and asked “wait are you two together? Like dating?”. Y/n jokingly asked Ghost, "hm? Are we, Ghost?" Ghost smirked under his mask and replied, "Last time I checked, we were." The new recruit knew he had overstepped his bounds and quickly apologised “I’m so sorry Lieutenant sir I didn’t know she was yours”. Ghost then told him “no need to apologise to me but you will be apologising to her and your squad since you are going to do some laps on the track outside and a chat with me in my office tomorrow” the boy looked at you and spoke “sorry” you nodded and ushered him over to the desk. After he left, Y/n got ready to leave with Ghost and Soap for some lunch at a nearby food place. As they walked away, Y/n couldn't help but feel glad to have Ghost by your side and help you when he knew it was needed.

Hope you all like it! if you have anything you’d like me to write make sure to message or request it!

Have a good day/night!

(Also if you’d like a update on me as the author which I don’t think most would want but I’ll do one cuz you never know. Well I’ve been well doing my exams soon I have a Welsh speaking one Thursday which I’m dreading cuz I hate speaking Welsh. I have joined a rugby team which I’m playing my first game tomorrow and I’m so hyped! If you cared to read this I appreciate it have a good day/night!)

[cactusspatz]

May recs

So May turned into my biennial swing through Naruto fandom (have I ever seen a single episode? nope), during which I managed to fall down the Madara/Tobirama rabbit hole - which is a very fun time if you enjoy extreme competency and enemies-to-lovers! Also I've got some Kakashi/Iruka fic, and a couple of Guardian fics for Shen Wei/Zhao Yunlan. More recs at Pinboard as well!

NARUTO - FOUNDERS ERA

As Is the Sea Marvelous by blackkat

Tobirama is willing to give absolutely anything for Hashirama and his dream.

AKA the fic that started me down this rabbit hole. Blackkat is so dangerous with the gateway drug fics like that - this is a great canon AU aimed directly at my id where Tobirama surrenders to the Uchiha in hopes of stopping an escalation of the war after he wounds Izuna.

and all the fire's at your fingertips by pandaflower

Tobirama is elbow deep in a stealth mission in Wind Country when he runs into a shinobi squad toting a stolen Uchiha child. Tobirama disapproves.

Charming gen competence porn/kidfic adventure.

With Enemies Like These by sarkasticfics

After a serious and devastating attack, the Uchiha are in desperate need of a sealmaster. Unfortunately for them, the best candidate happens to be from the Senju clan. Fortunately for them, he doesn't seem all that inclined to act like an enemy. Which is lucky because, as it turns out, there are plenty of other adversaries making moves in Fire Country - both the clans will need to make new friends to survive. Madara would have been content if his new husband tolerated him and helped his clan stay safe. He doesn't quite know what to do with the fact that his husband doesn't stop there.

Jam-packed with competence and tropes, just the way I like it - and there's some incredibly lovely moments as they reconcile with their clans' bloody pasts.

Count Your Blessings by madmothmadame

The war is over. Tobirama ended it when he put his sword through Izuna's center mass. But where war had united the Senju behind their leader, peace threatened to tear them apart. And who better for the warmongers to look to as a leader than the greatest killer of Uchiha they had ever seen? There were only two problems with that plan. One, Tobirama would never, ever, betray his elder brother. Two, he may or may not have a surprisingly not dead Uchiha Izuna in a coma in his guest room, hiding the secret of resurrection that Tobirama needs with everything he is. Now if only he would wake.

Deliciously epic. The inciting incident is very hand-wavey (having been inspired by another fic), but the follow-through in worldbuilding around Konoha's founding, the metric truckload of feels, and the twisty political intrigue makes for a great read. Be warned, there's like 250K of hurt before it gets to any sort of comfort, so maybe save it for a long rainy day if you don't want to suffer (like me). Also, the ship is pretty background, so don't expect much romance - but the gen relationships are fantastic and crunchy.

NARUTO - CANON ERA

for the record by ohwickedsoul

Asuma looks from Anko, who is laser-focused in a way rarely seen outside missions, and Iruka’s bewildered face. “Holy shit,” he says. “You’ve seen Kakashi’s face.”

The ending is TRUE ROMANCE, OKAY. And hilarious!

It's Amazing Who You Stumble Into (along the road of life) by vulcanhighblood

Hatake Kakashi and Umino Iruka have been part of each other's lives for a long time. A lot longer than Iruka realizes, anyway. Kakashi recognizes this is something of a problem, but only once it's too late to do anything about it. OR How To Make Your Secret Identity Friend Your Real-Life Boyfriend: A Shinobi's Guide To How Not To Romance

In which they keep running into each other over the years, complicated by Kakashi being ANBU for the first half of it. I loved the varied assortment of meetings, and the way they kept trading off on helping each other (physically, medically, emotionally).

GUARDIAN

Breaking Point by musicalluna & nightwalker

Zhao Yunlan is having a really terrible week, and it just gets worse when he starts to think Shen Wei has gotten tired of his bullshit.

Fantastic post-canon piece where the boys really need to communicate, and the universe/work is not helping. Excellent characterization and some brutally good relationship fights - but they figure it out in the end.

However deep the Lake by elenothar

Zhao Yunlan finds out a lot earlier that the Envoy isn't as invulnerable as he seems.

Classic h/c story where they're taken captive together in Episode 4.

[andavs]

I’m just getting into 911… got any buddie fic recs?

You know, I actually do?

Actually, Truly by MilenaDaniels Isabel calls to tell them Eddie's been shot on a Thursday afternoon and by lunch on Friday Helena and Ramon are landing at LAX. When they land, they learn Eddie's already home recovering and has been for two weeks. ---- Or, Helena (and Ramon) tries to find a way back into Eddie's life and doesn't know what to make of finding Buck around every corner she turns.

Breathe by @kitkatpancakestack After Eddie Diaz has a breakdown in the middle of a grocery store, he's forced to face the fact that he might not be dealing with his PTSD as well as he thought. At the urging of his aunt, he leaves to spend the summer in a small California beach town, where he meets a bright-eyed, blond-haired surf instructor who reminds him what it feels like to be alive.

bro·ken by @thekristen999 bro·ken

adjective 1. having been fractured or damaged and no longer in one piece or in working order. 2. having given up all hope; despairing.

Forced to take shady side jobs to pay his bills, Evan Buckley doesn’t think he’s ever seen such rock bottom. Until he meets Eddie Diaz, a man even more desperate and alone. Season 3 AU.

if you say it with your hands by @henswilsons Buck thinks it must be a habit he still hasn’t dropped from his days in the army, or maybe it comes with the territory of being a dad – but Eddie can nap pretty much anywhere.

or, Eddie starts casually falling asleep against Buck, and Buck is very normal about it.

In the Gray You are Golden by @letmetellyouaboutmyfeels When the world fell apart, Eddie did his best to keep his son safe. But now winter's coming on, their supplies are dwindling, and Christopher needs medical attention, so Eddie takes the chance to move them across the country to the west coast, where the rumored 118 Safezone takes in all survivors.

Buck's proud to be a member of the 118's search and rescue teams, but he can't shake the conviction that his lost sister is still alive in the wasteland. When he sneaks out to find her, he runs into Eddie and Chris instead, and vows to get them to the 118 safely.

But the wasteland has many ways of tearing people apart, and the undead are just one trick up its sleeve...

Your Fingerprints Smeared on My Heart (Lead Me Back to You) by @letmetellyouaboutmyfeels In 1880, Evan Buckley of the arriviste set is sent out west to oversee his family's railroad and recover from a broken heart - and meets Eddie Diaz, cowboy. When fate tears them apart, they make a promise: find each other again.

In 2018, Buck walks into his fire station in Los Angeles - and meets Eddie Diaz, new recruit.

[sorchathered]

Sacred New Beginnings- Chapter 8

A/N- thank you guys so much for being patient with me, I know that cliffhanger shook everyone up but I promise your patience will be rewarded!

Pairing- Jake Seresin x Reader (OC Stormy)

Warnings- injuries, cursing, smut

Song inspo- “Like I’m gonna lose you” - Meghan Trainor

It had been nearly 6 weeks since your accident, ejecting over the ocean in an aircraft during a dogfight which resulted in your shoot not properly deploying, sending you spiraling towards the ocean at a speed that thankfully didn’t kill you or your pilot. The emergency team that life flighted you to Maryland had to sedate you heavily to manage your pain, so excruciating that it required what the doctor had called a medically induced coma. Broken collarbone, broken left wrist, fractured femur and a gnarly concussion that had you out for several days, waking up alive certainly not what you were expecting; the first thing that caught your eyes was the golden blonde hair and green eyes of the man you loved. Jake had been there through it all, every sleepless night, surgery, pt until you were finally released to go back to your home in Pensacola. You knew your godfather had facilitated some sort of miracle to allow Jake so much time away from his job and for that you couldn’t be more grateful, Uncle Beau couldn’t be your support team so he made sure you had everything you needed.

You were exhausted, the plane ride had been painful and as much as you’d tried to put on a brave face Jake could tell you were suffering, he got you inside and settled in bed and refused to let you do anything other than rest, you knew he had to be running on fumes but if he was he didn’t show it. You weren’t wrong, he was wrung out both emotionally and physically but if he stopped pushing forward he knew he’d break down, there had been nights when you were sedated that he worried you wouldn’t get through it and having to face life alone without you was too much for his heart to bear. Now that he had you home and safe he couldn’t imagine going back to North Island, let alone watching you get back into your jet, the thought sent a shudder through him; losing you was never something he’d imagined before all of this but now it consumed his every waking moment. It wasn’t healthy, and he was a bad liar so he knew you could tell he was fraying at the edges, your doctor had suggested that it would be beneficial for you both to do therapy together or separate and he was sure that was an option that needed to be explored. He started a load of laundry and as the clothes swirled in the washer he scrolled through his phone to find admiral Simpsons number, maybe requesting a transfer could give him the peace he needed to sleep at night.

A week goes by, pt is going well, your godfather has extended Jake’s leave once again but his request for transfer was denied (which you expected and told him at least 1,000 times you didn’t need him to move across the country to babysit you), but you could tell his nerves were shot. when you woke up most nights he wasn’t in the bed, usually in the living room reading or watching tv, sometimes on a run that would last for hours. Therapy hadn’t been easy the first session, you’d rehashed the drama of your crash and had ended it in tears, you’d been assured it would get easier but it felt like it never would, especially with the walls it felt like Jake was building around you. He treated you like glass and it was becoming more and more frustrating, he didn’t want to talk about what was going on in his head, he definitely wouldn’t sleep with you and all you’d gotten were a handful of kisses and hand holding since you’d come back to Florida. It felt like he was pushing you away and that was what you knew would push you over the edge, injuries you could heal from but losing him? That would destroy you.

Jake of course is clueless to your fears, he is just pushing through each day trying to make sure you are healthy and getting better, the thought hasn’t even occurred to him that he’s been distant, how could he be? He’s with you all the time! But when he gets back from his nearly 10 mile run the tension he hadn’t noticed is palpable, you’ve somehow showered and changed without him and when he catches your eyes from your spot on the couch he knows you are ready for a fight. He’s seen that look over a dozen times but never aimed at him, the storm is raging in your features, jaw clenched and eyes red rimmed with tears; you’ve been crying and somehow it’s his fault.

“Baby what’s wrong? Are you hurt? Why didn’t you wait for me? You shouldn’t be doing anything by yourself-“ he started but you waved your hand dismissively and continued to scowl and tear up, he didn’t know what was going on but whatever he’d done he would get on his knees and beg for forgiveness if he had to. “I’m not hurt, I managed to take my brace off to shower and put it back on by myself, that’s not the problem. The problem is us.” You said the last part in almost a whisper as you burst into tears, you’d never been much for crying when you were upset but everything had gotten so overwhelming and you couldn’t get your thoughts together, Jake surged forward to scoop you up and it didn’t matter that he was sweaty and gross you needed his touch more than you could say. You clawed at his skin and gasped out as you tried to stall your tears, pulling at his face to kiss you and he reciprocated but continued to hold you as gently as possible, afraid to jostle you too much and hurt your leg. Your eyes looked wild as he pulled you back a little to calm you down, but you kept clinging to him and trying to pull him closer, he didn’t want to stop but the fear of hurting you was prevalent so he pulled back completely and stood up, only to be met with another round of tears. “Hey hey, you gotta talk to me sugar I don’t understand what’s going on? You’re scaring me baby, just tell me what it is and I’ll fix it ok?” You looked at him and huffed like a petulant child and he almost laughed but knew it would only make it worse, something was eating you up and he didn’t have a clue where to start. “I don’t understand how you don’t get it, you’re doing it to me right now! You’re pushing me away, I’m not made of glass Jake! You’ve barely touched me since we got home, it’s like you don’t even want me anymore and I can’t stand it!” You wailed out and he had never felt more idiotic in his life. He had been so focused on your recovery that it had never even occurred to him that you would want him like that right now, but of course you did; you needed him physically just like he always had when things were hard and somehow he’d completely missed it. You were still sniffling as he ran his hand over his face and chuckled, which made you scrunch your face up angrily at him because how was this funny? He had been acting like an ass, of course he’d done everything to be your caretaker but damnit you wanted your boyfriend.

“Oh sweet thing I’m so sorry, I really have been stupid huh?” He said as he stepped back into your space and wiped your tears with his thumbs. “I didn’t realize, baby, can I fix it? Take you to bed and show you how sorry I am?” You nodded furiously and put your hands out for him to scoop you up, letting him carry you down the hall to the bedroom as you kissed his face and neck, running your hands through his sweaty hair and down his shoulders. He still treats you like your fragile, but it’s in the form of soft touches and gentle kisses placed all over your body as he removes your clothes, there’s a reverence in the way he loves you, you’d missed the intimacy of being with him so much it hurt, and now that he knew what you needed you knew he’d give you everything. He could tell you were irritated by the leg brace, couldn’t quite get close to him the way you wanted, you were terrible at hiding it with your furrowed brows and frustrated huffs as you tried to gain leverage and push up against him. He stilled you with a hand on your hips and kissed you sweetly on the forehead trying to smooth away the irritation. “You’re so stubborn, lay still and be a good girl ok baby girl I’m gonna get you there I promise, be sweet for me like I know you can.” You huffed out again but did what he asked, watching as he kissed down your torso and hitched your good leg over his shoulder, you were already so wet and gasping for him but he was going to draw this out as long as possible, you said you needed him to touch you so he would until you couldn’t take it anymore.

He was so damn lucky, and he knew it. He could’ve lost you, missed out on moments like this, watching you come undone for him as he tasted you over and over again until you were a crying mess, taking you to the precipice as you writhed and begged for him to let you cum, but he wouldn't let you just yet, white knuckling the sheets and sobbing his name, pussy leaking all over his hands and mouth as your beautiful eyes rolled back, it was heaven on earth being with you like this and he’d never take it for granted. You were positive that you’d come out of your own skin if he didn’t let you come soon, pulling at his hair and pleading him with wasn’t working, and soon you were too far gone to even do that, just letting little noises out as you rolled your head back and forth and gasped his name, and finally he pulled away from you, climbing back up your body to sloppily lick into your mouth, he was covered in you and it was sinful, you couldn’t stop bucking into him and squirming and he just chuckled as he groped your chest and kissed your neck. “Jake- I get it ok, I was being a brat just- just please please fuck me, need it oh fuck please please” you couldn’t stop babbling even as he began to glide his cock through your slick, and he slid into you with no resistance, your body so wound up that you couldn’t stop, immediately clamping down on him and succumbing to your orgasm. He growled into your neck at how good you were, continuing to fuck you through it as you gushed all over him and onto the sheets, he’d been so turned on by edging you that he was hopeless to hold back his own orgasm, thrusting into you hard a few times and spilling into you, both of you sweat slicked and sated, finally feeling like maybe you’d made it through the worst of this season of life.

You’d fallen asleep shortly after, going in and out as he cleaned you up and tucked you in, promises to come back after he started the laundry. You knew it hadn’t been long because the sun was still out but when you woke his side of the bed was still made and cold, so you hobbled down the hall until you could hear him talking to someone on the phone. “I know Mama, she’s gonna be alright but I don’t know how to leave her, I’m scared to death to let her out of my sight let alone in her jet again. Yeah, they’re sending me back next week, I’m gonna do everything I can to make things easier but- I don’t know mama I can ask if she wants the company, she’s got an extra room but I don’t want to overwhelm her, I just want to keep her safe.” You could hear the rawness in his voice, and your heart broke, you weren’t ready to be without him either but he had to go back, you’d already been given too many favors and the navy wasn’t likely to give anymore. “Jake” you called to him and he fumbled with the phone and swiped his eyes, looking up at you with the saddest smile you’d ever seen. “Tell your mama I’d love to have her here, you’re right I could use the company and we are definitely overdue for the girl time.” There it was, his thousand watt smile you fell in love with, he crossed the room to scoop you in his arms and you could see the relief on his face. You swiped the phone from his hand and laughed, “Hey Mama Leigh, how about we order you that plane ticket? We’ve got all sorts of catching up to do, and you can fill me in on all Jake’s most embarrassing stories.”

Leigh Seresin was the very picture of a southern grandma, styled blonde hair and perfect makeup, but none of the catty attitude, just warmth and kindness. When you and Jake picked her up from the airport she pulled you both up into a hug, fussing at you for not using your crutches and producing a big container of homemade chocolate chip cookies. She reminded you so much of your grandmother in so many ways, she wasn’t pushy but she wouldn’t let you lift a finger, making sure you were settled and then ushering Jake into the kitchen to help her make dinner as you dozed on the couch. She knew you were the one for her son, could see it on his face months ago when he’d admitted that you two were together, she wasn’t surprised one bit, she’d known for years that he had a thing for you and eventually you two would figure it out. Checking to make sure you were still asleep she dug through her never ending coach bag (Jake always called her Mary poppins because she seemed to have everything) and produced a small velvet box. “You said you wanted me to give this to you when you were ready, and I know right now may not be the right time but son one day it will be. She’s the right one sweetheart, I can feel it in my bones.” There inside the little green box was the thing he’d dreamed about putting on your finger from that very first weekend, Grandma Seresin’s vintage engagement ring. He knew he’d have to wait a little while, let you heal up all the way and see where your career took you but holding it in his hand and watching you sleep on the couch he couldn’t help but feel like everything was falling into place.

Jake Seresin masterlist

Tagging- @mamamaystbr @mamachasesmayhem @roosterforme @attapullman @bobgasm @djs8891 @mygyn @pinkdaisies9285 @mrsevans90 @seitmai @jessicab1991 @shanimallina87 @dizzybee03 @86laura11 @its-the-pilot @jostan456 @the-aspiring-fanfic-writer @kmc1989 @nouis-bum @dempy @floydsglasses

[rius-cave]

So I have an AU idea. Wanted to share it with the Adamsapple goddess /joke

Criminal AU. Tw mentions of abuse/SA

Lucifer is a serial killer who goes by the name “Devil” because of his brutal way of killing people + because there is always a pentagram drawn near his work. He hunts people who he thinks that weren’t punished enough by the law. Other than that, he’s the boss of a big company.

He had a wife before, Lilith. She was cool at the start, but then became more and more abusive, especially to Lu. They got divorced and Lilith demanded Lucifer’s money at a point he almost failed to give despite owning a huge company. And the worst part, she got away with what he did to him, not a single punishment.

Adam on the other hand, is a thief and assasin who lost most of his moralties a long time ago after everyone he knew turned against him. He’s working for Michael, he accepted his offer because he needed money for the medical treatment his daughter had to take.

Speaking of his daughter, Emily, let me tell you how she was born.

Adam was at his lowest, he had just lost his boys, his wife and his farm not so long ago. Eve went to a different country, Cain was in juvie and Abel was dead. He is a bartender and barely making enough money for himself.

Then he meets Lilith. The same Lilith who is still married to Lucifer. They start a relationship and Adam thinks he could finally move on from Eve. But NO! Lilith is an abusive piece of shit to him as well. Her abuse towards Adam grows more and more until one day… She does undescribable things to him and gets pregnant. And kind of leaves the diseased child and fades out of Adam’s life once the kid is born.

One day these traumatized boys meet. Adam is robbing the house of a rich man and Lucifer is there to kill the man. They see each other, then Lucifer attacks Adam. He has him on the floor ready to be killed but it clicks in him that this is also a criminal and wouldn’t dare report him. Then they go to their seperate ways.

Or so they think. They keep stumbling to each other and they slowly fall in love.

I love giving them trauma.

Is2g I'm going to ACTUALLY hold elections to choose the adamsapple captain just so I can say for sure THAT IT'S DEFINITELY NOT ME DSKFDSF!!!

Anyway. Wow. That sure is a lot. It's interesting how Lilith was first with Lucifer, and then with Adam. It mixes things up from the canon. Also Lilith being evil? Always a big fan of that.

You definitely not kid when you say you love giving them trauma LMAO BECAUSE THERE SURE IS A LOT OF THAT IN HERE!

I'm guessing Lucifer doesn't know about Lilith being with Adam, right? and that Emily is also Lilith's child??? How did Lilith give birth to Emily without Lucifer knowing? Maybe she left him right after she got pregnant? Hm. Either way imagine the absolute DRAMA when Lucifer finds out what she did to Adam. Oh boy, that woman is going to regret everything lol

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

I know someone on twitter said/suggested on the sode that what if silvers curse is still active and he keeps falling asleep is because he doesn’t have a lotta self love (I know that probably doesn’t make a lotta sense but I cant stop thinking about it IEBDB)

I mean… maybe that could be a component of it?? Self-love is still a form of love, after all (and his guardian fairies were not specific about what “form” of love is needed to fully break his curse. It’s also clear that Silver struggles with the idea of “paying back” his father and being enough for him.

The main issue with this is that if self-love counts for initially breaking the spell, then Silver would probably still be sleeping… since babies take several years to develop a concept of what the “self” is and how to love it; just something simple like recognizing one’s reflection takes 15-24 months on average. To develop an identity and to be happy with it takes many more years. Additionally, Silver doesn’t demonstrate overt self-image issues until he discovers the truth about his origins; even then, Sebek is able to remind him that he has Lilia’s love.

At this point, I still think the residual narcolepsy is mainly because Lilia has been having difficulties being emotionally open with Silver. Even as far back as when Lilia first found the enchanted infant, he assumed right away that the magic spun on it had worn away only due to the passage of time. It didn’t occur to him that he would ever be capable of truly loving the baby to the point that it could break the curse.

In present day, Lilia is much more overtly affectionate, but I don’t think that being affectionate is 100% equivalent to letting himself be vulnerable with others. Think about how he made the hasty announcement and decision about dropping out of school and moving to a foreign country—all because he doesn’t want his boys to see him in a weakened state. He rushes to leave before Malleus and Silver come to his farewell party. He doesn’t talk about his own history to the boys, and, in fact, actively lies to Malleus and Silver about Silver’s origins/how he found the baby.

There is some emotional distance there, and I wonder if this comes in part from Lilia and believing he’s still unable to or unworthy of love?? We know that Sebek tells Silver that Lilia loves him, but we don’t know how Lilia himself feels about this matter. The fact that Lilia is aware of what Silver’s curse is, yet continues to bring him to specialists and medical mages in hopes of curing him… That makes me think that Lilia’s still in that mindset of denial, not thinking that it’s his true love, the love of a parent, that will finally set Silver free. Or maybe he just thinks his love isn’t valid or “enough” to help Silver.

… Anyway, if book 7 doesn’t end with Silver formally adopting the surname Vanrouge, then what was all of this suffering and all of my tears for 😭

[everytimewetouch-dot-mp3]

modern bingyuan ft. werewolf luo binghe and human shen yuan (listen i have a brain disease (autism that is omegaverse and werewolf flavored) okay, i cant help it)

binghe’s pack:

mobei jun, his second-in-command

shang qinghua, mobei jun’s mate pet human

sha hualing, nasty bitch (affectionate) who comes in clutch during territory disputes and shit

various underlings

(tangential pack members: tianlang jun and zhuzhi-lang, by virtue of bing lbh’s relatives. tlj was meant to be the pack’s alpha, but didn’t have much interest in leadership)

vague story ideas below the cut:

shen yuan moves to the same city as sqh to be closer to physicians that specialize in his medical condition. sqh initially seems really excited to meet in person, then puts it off again and again until shen yuan calls him from the hospital like ‘dude listen i know u maybe don’t actually want to meet irl but im gonna be in the hospital for a few days and im bored out of my skull, can u just bring me some games or smth and leave them at the nurses’ station’

sqh feels bad for putting off the hangout for so long, so he brings the games, the nurse directs him to shen yuan’s room, and here we meet mbj who’s curious abt who’s been bugging sqh to hang out for the past couple weeks. after that, sqh comes to visit shen yuan in the hospital every day while he’s there. he bitches about it, but it’s friendly bitching.

meanwhile sqh and mbj keep showing up to pack stuff smelling like human—one specific human. and he smells good, at least in lbh’s opinion. so he gets curious and keeps bugging qinghua to introduce him to this sweet-smelling human. ofc, he makes it seem like he’s suspicious of the human who’s suddenly started hanging around his second. sqh finally gives in and invites shen yuan to hang out with his other friends (shen yuan is very excited and extremely anxious).

binghe is immediately obsessed. shen yuan is smart and funny and a little rude, even though it doesn’t seem like he means to be, and he smells so fucking good it’s unreal. lbh doesn’t let hualing bully shen yuan, which is out of character for him nice. mobei jun tacitly approves of him, qinghua is already his friend, and hualing doesn’t try to kill him within 20 mins of meeting, so it’s p much a success. there’s one point where shen yuan’s scent suddenly turns sour from pain and the werewolves all pause, but qinghua keeps yapping on and the only sign shen yuan gives of being in pain is a tightening of his jaw and a deep, sharp inhale through the nose

after shen yuan goes home, mobei jun tells binghe that shen yuan had been in the hospital but wouldn’t say what for; he assumes shen yuan was injured somehow? but every few hangouts, shen yuan’s scent does that thing again. binghe and he have been getting closer, and eventually for some reason or another (tianlang jun or zhuzhi lang, maybe?) he’s pressured into revealing that he’s a werewolf. also at some vague, hand-wavy time, shen yuan explains that he’s not injured, he’s just got heart problems

shen yuan’s got a hand-wavy heart condition inspired by long QT; he moved because he went into cardiac arrest during a regular hospital visit and his family was like ‘ok we thought this was managed but u now need to see the best specialists in the country’ and the specialists were like ‘ok you’re getting an implantable cardiac defibrillator like yesterday; why didnt they do that after your heart stopped last time???????’ which is why he was in the hospital

anyways blah blah maybe somebody kidnaps shen yuan to get to luo binghe or smth like that, binghe goes all badass bingge mode and kills some people, and then they fuck nasty (but also tenderly!!!) and they live happily ever after

[seraphimcollections]

gentle giant | Konig x medic!reader |

chapter 5

warnings: abduction, non-consenual drugging, language.

summary: little bird is trapped in the cat's jaws with only one way out - into the belly of the beast.

w/c: 2.1

a/n: hello again! I'm really looking forward to this chapter and the next! I wanted to be a little extra care in this chapter. I'll be putting together a master list to pin to my page if that'll be easier. Oh! Do me a solid and reblog if you like this series! Final part coming soon! Thank you!

chapters: | ch. 1 | ch. 2 | ch. 3 | ch. 4 | ch. 5 |

The air had changed. With the news of your clear abduction quickly spreading across the base, the reality of both the 141 and KorTac’s failure weighed heavy on each of their shoulders. Soap’s playful demeanor was reduced to silence. Gaz didn’t know what else to do with himself besides try to keep himself busy cleaning his weapons multiple times consecutively. Price holed himself in his office, chain smoking countless of his precious cigars. No one knew where Simon was, but some say they could hear firing out in the yard at odd hours of the night. As for Kӧnig, he hadn’t slept in days. He hadn’t stepped foot out of your office. In the beginning, he couldn’t help his rage, taking it out on his surroundings -- the bookshelves, the files, anything. Quickly, the guilt settled in and he just as quickly began to try to put your office back to how he remembered it was. 

  Konig sat in his same chair, staring at the emptiness in yours’. He sat hunched over, his elbows on his knees, fingers laced together and clenched. He stared into that empty space, the rage still bubbling in his chest. Slowly, the rage began to bleed into anxiety and fear. You’ve been missing for two days. You could be anywhere, a different country, a completely other continent. Anywhere. Konig’s hands became fists in his lap. Millions of questions swirled in his head. Were you hurt? Were you even alive? Who took you, and what did they want with you? And as if the universe heard him, the bearer of answers stopped in the doorframe, not quite daring to enter, just as Konig had done many times. 

Konig’s cyan eyes caught on his stature, the 141’s loyal captain. From sight alone, Konig could see John was having as difficult a time as him, maybe even more so. In his hands held a bottle of whiskey along with two glasses in the other. 

“Mind some company?” John said gruffly. 

Konig sat up a little straighter and shook his head. John sighed, placing the glasses on the desk. He sat on the creaking wood, as if confirming they both knew that the other chair belonged only to you. Handing Konig a glass before taking his own, John took a slow sip. Konig carefully moved the glass under his hood, his lips coming to press against the lukewarm glass. 

“I’m afraid I haven’t been completely honest with you,” John finally broke the silence, “but neither have you, Colonel.” 

Konig nearly choked from hearing his formal title. John chuckled, setting his glass down. 

“I-I don’t like to mention my title, it makes people act on false intentions,” Konig explained. 

John waved dismissively, “now need to explain it to me, soldier. We all learn to play our cards close to our chests. Just in this case, I lost more than I looked to gain in the first place.” 

Konig looked at the older man in confusion, “what do you mean, Captain?” 

John’s eyes glazed over, “I never told you why we were here, did I?” 

“No, but I figured you were all on the run,” Konig said. “And that it had something to do with Maus.” 

John’s eyes lit up hearing Konig’s name for you as he took another sip. 

“Wren, she saw something she was never supposed to see,” John frowned. “Something that goes all the way up to the top. Something that lacks all honor that those sods tried their damn best to bury it. But Wren found it, and it dug it all back for them. And so they planned to do what they always do-” 

“They’re going to kill her,” Konig said, dread sinking into every ounce of his being. 

John frowned before finally nodding., “but your comrades seem to think they’ve fulfilled their end of the bargain. They left, off to the next highest payer. You’re the only one who stayed. Which is why I came to you.” 

The two men could ignite wildfires with the heat of their gazes toward each other. 

“Are you with us on this? Will you help us get our bird back?” John said with all seriousness. 

Konig’s eyes narrowed, “you have me, Captain.” 

John nodded, standing on his two feet, “good, we move out at dawn. Get ready.” 

“I’m always ready, Captain.” 

“I will see you soon, kleine maus.” 

↭

  The ringing in your ears refused to cease. Your eyelids feel heavy, most likely swollen. Your entire body ached, your wrists and ankles bound tightly together, the zipties digging into your open skin. You laid on your side, your head limply laying on what felt like leather. You tried your best to tune your ears to what was around you. You wiggled trying to find something that could tell you where you were. Your throat felt so dry that even if you tried to speak you worried it would crack and bleed. You groaned, forcing your eyes to open to blinding sunlight. You were in a car, that much made sense. You laid on the back seat, the leather seats sticking to your clammy skin. 

You squint your eyes to see the dusty blonde head of hair over the driver’s seat. You blinked in confusion, trying to piece together how you got here in the back seat of this mystery car driven by a complete stranger. Your memory came back to you like an unwelcome friend. You remember the struggle, the bruise you were sure going to get from being thrown back onto the desk. The sickly sweet smell of whatever chemical your abductor used to put you under. The back of Konig’s head as he left to see what Price wanted. 

Rage burst into you heart as you tried your best to pull against your restraints, only to find yourself weak. 

“It’s useless,” the man you thought you knew as Richards said  in an annoying sing-song voice. “The drug won’t wear off for another few hours. Don’t waste what little energy you have, sweetheart.” 

You glared up at the rear view mirror, finding the man’s eyes peering back at you with amusement. 

“Who are you? Where are you taking me?” You growl. 

“We’re going back to my place,” he smiled as if saying this to his date, “then you’re going to tell me everything you know, and then, I’ll kill you.” 

You felt your blood run cold at his words. Your eyes narrowed. 

“Shepherd sent you.” 

“Ah! There’s that sharp cunningness Shepherd told me all about!” 

You glared at the man with a stare of thousand daggers. This gaze did little to faze your abductor as his smile never left his smug face. 

“Why not just kill me? Save yourself the trouble,” you said. 

“Ah, where would the fun be in that!” The man said, sounding like he was going on a day out at a theme park and not like a man who was your executioner. 

“No, I intend on taking my time with you,” he said, his gaze connecting with your own, letting you see the true darkness in his eyes. 

You fell silent, instead trying to look outside to try to get a clue on where you were, or how far you could be from base. From Konig. You could feel your stomach drop as the tall Austrian popped into your mind. Did he know you were gone? Was he even looking for you? In the end, he was part of KorTac, a company not renowned for loyalty to one agency. But…Konig was different. He was caring, empathetic and kind. If the two of you had enough time, you could find out why such a quiet soul could be in such a messy business. But then again, so were you. 

“You won’t get far,” you said with a huff. “You have no idea who’s coming for you.” 

“Correction: I know exactly who's coming for me, little bird,” Richards said. “And I’m counting on it.”

You brow furrowed at his words, making him snicker, “you really think Shephard would just let their insubordination go? Come on, you can’t be that naive!”

“Shut up-”

“You know, I should really thank you, not only do I get to take out the 141, but now KorTac’s finest? Ugh, it’s like Christmas morning,” Richards sighed. 

You lurch forward in a rage, “you leave Konig out of this!” 

“Oh, like you did?” Richards cocked a brow. “If my memory serves me right, it was because of you that KorTac even got dragged into this mess. And it will be because of you that your beloved Konig will die.”

You felt your chest begin to tighten in panic as the thought of everyone you ever loved, ever cared about being reduced to nothing but cold flesh all in your name. You begin to struggle against your restraints, pulling at them wildly. 

“Ah, doctor?” Richards said. 

You look up at the man and in a split second you catch the small almost travel size bottle in his large hand before Richard squeezed the little trigger. You recoiled back but to no avail, the mysterious potion infiltrated and coating your throat. You cough violently, your vision beginning to swim. 

“Trust me, it would be best if you sit this part out. Easier for both of us,” Richard smirked. “Sweet dreams, little bird.”

You fell onto you back with a groan, eyes rolling back up to the roof of the car. You fought to keep your eyes open but only to be swallowed back into the darkness. 

↭

73. 

73 hours since you’ve been abducted. As each hour passed, your trail got colder and Konig became more restless. This was clear with his foul attitude that no one could dare miss. What was left of the men on the base sat around a makeshift table with schematics scattered across it. Konig stood hunched over, his palms supporting his weight on the table. Price stood at the head of the table, Ghost to his right, Gaz to his left. Soap had tried his best to try to keep Konig cool so he stayed a safe but supportive distance close to Konig. 

“What you know is that Shephard all but lost most of his clean contacts to DC, so there’s a good chance he won’t be able to smuggle her into the States,” Gaz said with arms crossed. 

“That doesn’t completely squash the possibility,” said Ghost. 

“But would he even go through the trouble? I mean if he’s already got what he wants. Why drag it out?” Gaz said. 

“You’re right, if he was smart, she’s long dead,” Ghost said matter of factly. 

The wood of the table creaked under Konig’s fist at the mention of the idea. Soap leaned over. 

“That’s not going to happen, because we’re gonna get to the fucker first,” Soap said. 

Price agreed, “Soap is right. If there’s one thing I know about that snake is that he likes to play with his food. He won’t just kill her quickly.” 

“That doesn’t make it better,” Konig said, finally standing to his full height, effectively dwarfing the rest of the men. “There must be some sort of lead of where she could have been taken.” 

“He’ll want to take care of this quietly and under the radar,” Gaz said.

“Slimy bastard won’t even come to do it himself most likely,” Ghost scoffed. “Won’t want to get his hands dirty, ‘why he sent that fucker.” 

“And we know he’s petty-” 

“That much is clear,” Soap rolled his eyes. “The bellhead chased across half of fucking Europe.” 

“So he’ll take her to a place that holds some kind of memory, maybe?” Gaz shrugged. 

Price’s eyes shot wide with realization, “Las Almas.” 

These words caught 141's attention. 

“Would he really be that obvious?” Soap said. 

“Or stupid,” Ghost chimed in. 

“But that’s exactly wants,” Price said, “he’ll want to take this back to ground zero: Las Almas.” 

“What’s in Las Almas?” Konig asked. 

“It’s where we first found out how dirty Shepherd liked to play,” Soap grunted. “Evidently he slipped out of our hands, until Wren found data suggesting his whereabouts and what’s been keeping the sorry fucker busy. Guess he didn’t want anyone poking around in his business again.” 

“And you think he’s taken Maus there?” Konig said. 

“It’s our only lead,” Price sighed, hands gripping his vest. 

Konig sighed, his shoulders slumping slightly before nodding his head, “then we shall go.” 

“And luckily for us, we have friends on the other side,” Ghost smirked underneath his mask. 

“Los Fuerzas Especiales,” Soap smirked looking up at Konig, “Mexican Special Forces. They owe us a bit of a favor.” 

Konig looked back to Price who almost looked at him as if to give him the word. Konig stoney gaze didn’t waver.

“No more waiting. We leave tonight.”

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