#now I need to find out how to take these firings OFF my record because nobody is going to hire me with 3 wrongful terminations on my name | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

gyeomsweetgyeom · 1 month ago

Text

⋆⭒˚.⋆ I like(?) Haechan ⋆⭒˚.⋆

summary: you and Haechan are too close and Jaehyun finally admits that he’s just a tiny bit jealous

(cw: f!reader, cursing, alcohol consumption, relationship insecurities)

Fratboy!Jaehyun never in his life ever thought that there would even be the fraction of a chance that there would ever be the possibility that he would ever- not in this life, or the next, or even his past lives- that he would EVER be jealous of Lee Haechan. But as he stood in Haechan's doorway, staring at his girlfriend, his fucking sweetheart in Haechan's bed, he started to think that the green eyed monster had finally successfully possessed him.

It hadn't started off like this and he can admit that this situation he's glaring at half asleep is all his fault, but there are events that led up to this envious possession.

The first time he had felt a little weird about you and Haechan was the first time you came over as his official girlfriend and immediately came in to hug Haechan before you even hugged Jaehyun, you know, your boyfriend. You had a bright, excited smile as you ran right past Taeyong, who had so kindly answered the door, and pulled Haechan into your embrace. Jaehyun shook it off because as soon as you were done with Haechan you were in Jaehyun's lap covering his face with kisses.

Then there was a party that had gone on far too long. Yes, Jaehyun is proud, they partied until like 5 in the morning, like, fuck, come on! That was a frat record! And sure yes, Jaehyun had been a little drunk (very drunk) (totally Johnny's fault) when he looked over and saw you, all buzzed and tired and cuddly on the couch, tilting over sleepily until your head was resting on Haechan's shoulder. Haechan didn't flinch, didn't act surprised, simply laid his head on top of yours and fell asleep too.

Then it just seemed to be a lot of little instances that jumped out in Jaehyun's mind now at 2 in the morning. Now, he's starting to hate the way that Haechan only posts a story for Jaehyun's birthday, but you get a post on the grid and multiple stories throughout the year? Jaehyun hates the way that you and Haechan have inside jokes and refuse to explain them to him.

And right now he fucking abhors that you are sleeping in Haechan's bed! Like ok, yes, Jaehyun did take a couple gummy melatonin vitamins so he was sleeping extra deeply, and yes, he did accidentally kick you off the bed shortly after he accidentally elbowed you in the nose, but did you have to go to Haechan's room? Well, not only that but also sleep in his bed-- with him there?!

Jaehyun trudged over to the bed and begins to shake you like there's a fire in the house and you need to wake up now! You wake up with a gasp, eyes flying open while you look around for the disaster. Instead, you find Jaehyun standing there with a frown on his face and his arms crossed.

"What's happening?" You ask in that cute, groggy voice of yours.

"You're not in my bed."

"Baby," you sigh, laying down again, "you elbowed me in the nose and kicked me off the bed. I'm tired and I want to sleep."

"You're sleeping with Haechan."

"I'm sleeping next to him. He runs hot and I have my warm pajamas on tonight."

Jaehyun hates that you know Haechan runs hot when he sleeps. Jaehyun groans under his breath and tugs on your hand, "come back to bed."

"Fine, but if you kick me off the bed again, I'm not going to anyone else's room, I'm going home," you huff as you throw the covers off. Haechan remains deeply asleep, none the wiser to what's happening around him.

Back in Jaehyun's bed, he has you embraced so tightly against his chest that your ear is starting to hurt against his muscular chest. The house is silent, probably as quiet as you've ever heard it, but you can practically hear the cogs in his brain whirring and it's driving you crazy. "What's wrong?" you ask softly.

Jaehyun wants to say how well you know him, but in reality, it's one of the things he loves most about you. "I don't want this to become anything bigger than it is, but... god! I think--I think I'm jealous of Haechan," Jaehyun shyly breathes out. Great, it's out there, one of his biggest insecurities is out in the universe.

You pop your head up, your chin resting on his chest as you look into his eyes with a cute furrow of your brow, "Jealous of Haechan?"

Jaehyun runs a hand down his face, how can he best say this? How can he phrase this so he doesn't sound like an insecure, jealous little boy? "Maybe... I'm just jealous of how-- how close the two of you are. I just-- all the little things you guys do with each other like throw me off. Like posting each other all the time, sharing a bed, falling asleep on each other and he cuddles you! You kiss his cheeks and he tells you things he would never tell me!"

Your thumb rubs away at the line between his brows with a soft gentleness that immediately has Jaehyun calming down. He loves the way you know him. You smile at him softly, "I want you to know that there is no way Haechan would ever come between the two of us, ever. I have a soft spot for him, yeah. In some ways he's like a younger brother and in other ways he's one of my girlfriends. What I do with him isn't anything I wouldn't do with Ari or Kira. He's even told me I've gotten too comfortable talking about my periods with him, he hates that."

Jaehyun laughs softly at that and you smile back, continuing, "I think, maybe... just maybe... you might be a little jealous that Haechan isn't as open with you?"

Jaehyun guffaws, his mouth literally drops open, "I don't want that little shit bag close to me in any way! Having him in the same frat is already too close!"

"Think about it, baby, you don't have siblings, but you have your brothers here. Haechan is about as 'younger brother' as they come and you're getting the full experience. I think that you're maybe feeling a little hurt or frustrated that you don't have as deep a connection with him as you'd like. Which I totally get, he grows on you kind of like eczema, so annoying at first and then you just grow to get used to it and handle it the best way you've learned," you explain, ending it all with a yawn.

Again, deep, deep, deep, deep... deep down Jaehyun knows you're right. You know him probably better than anyone on the face of the planet. Right now, he's not ready to admit that he wants to treat Haechan like a real brother.

"I kind of hate when you use your three semesters of psychology on me," Jaehyun tells you, rubbing a lulling hand up and down your back.

"It has to pay off somehow, right? But hey, your secret is safe with me."

"Yeah, I think I'd rather rush Alpha Sig than ever admit I want to be close with... gah! I can't even say it!" Jaehyun exclaims with an over exaggerated shudder.

"Be nice, you love him a little bit," you respond as your eyes finally start falling shut again.

"Like him a little bit, more like,"Jaehyun grumbles before closing his own eyes with the hope that when he wakes up this will all be a nightmare.

#kpop imagines #kpop au #kpop scenarios #kpop reactions #nct imagines #nct x reader #nct fluff #nct timestamps #nct oneshot #fratboy!jaehyun #frat!jaehyun #frat!nct #jaehyun x reader #jaehyun imagines #jaehyun fluff #jaehyun oneshot

457 notes · View notes

alastor-simp · 9 days ago

Text

Get Radio-Jinxed!- Alastor Reacts To Jinx Reader

❥Summary- A new addition has arrived to the hotel, catching Alastor's attention. He finds them highly entertaining despite the "explosive" tendencies that they have.

❥Tags- Alastor x Jinx Reader, Jinx, Arcane, Alastor x Jinx, Some spoilers of Arcane S1 and S2.

❥Notes- I have finally finished the Arcane series and OMG I LOVE JINX SO MUCH. I decided to do an Alastor x Jinx Reader because I wanted to experience how would Alastor interact or respond to a character like Jinx so here we go! Enjoy!

❥Credit- Divider by @the-voice-beckons-below

💙Alastor didn't know what to make of you when you entered through the doors of the hotel. Your form was shrouded by a black cloak, but he was able to make out your sky blue hair and shimmering violet eyes. "Hmm what have we here? A sweet little blue bird has decided to join our establishment?" Bending down, Alastor comes close to your face, hoping to get some sort of reaction from you.

🩷The stone cold gaze you threw back at him manage to stun him a bit, before the frown plastered on your face turned into a smirk. "Huh, so your the radio bozo that everyone yaps about in the streets. I expected you to be a tad more intimidating, but ya look like an overdressed Bambi." The smile etched onto Al's face twitched, clearly realizing that this little bluebird had a feisty side to them. "I can assure you this "bozo" in front of you could rip you apart, limb from limb," His fangs sharpened, as a eerie glow began to emanate from his body, powers leaking out.

💙A brunt object had pressed against Alastor's stomach, forcing him to look down, seeing an odd-looking gun pointed directly at his abdomen. "Well, this little "bluebird" can blast so many holes into ya that you'll look like swiss cheese. Wanna test it out?" The both of you continued the stare off until Charlie grabbed you, slowly pushing you away to avoid a brawl. Well it was clear that the two of you disliked each other after that incident, resulting in a few clapback fights between the both of you. Alastor detested how direct to the point your insults were towards him, making it very difficult for him to control his temper, but he promised dear Charlie that he wouldn't harm any of the guests at the hotel.

🩷The relationship did take a turn one day. Alastor was performing his usual walk around the hallways when he hear the sound of a loud smash coming from one of the rooms. Teleporting to the sound, he discovered that sound was caused by you, having smashed the mirror. He found you curled on the ground, hands placed against your ears, appearing so small that it soften his heart a bit. "Having another one of your temper tantrums again, little bluebird?" He snarked out, preparing for you to fire back at him. "St-stop." That wasn't the response he was expecting resulting in him to tilt his head at you. "Stop what?" Alastor questioned, crimson eyes filled with concern once he noticed the tears on your face. "The voices....make them go away. Th..they never stop...always whispering in my ear. Please..make them stop."

💙Al was still unclear what you meant by voices, were you cursed by someone perhaps? Either way, he couldn't bear to leave you in this sorry state. Snapping his fingers, the both of you were transported into his bayou dimension room. He figured the tranquility here would be enough to drown out whatever voices that were pestering you. His shadow also turned on the record player, soft jazz music flowing throughout the room.

🩷Getting on his knees, he placed his hands on top of yours, as they were still covering your ears. "My dear, there is no need to worry now. No voices will be able to enter my domain." Slowly but surely, the hands that clawed at your ears were pulled away, the whispering voices finally disappearing. Pink eyes gazed around the room, taking in all of the nature and peaceful ambiance, leaving you speechless. Al opened his mouth to say something, but closed it upon seeing the shine in your eyes.

💙You avoided him, sparking some annoyance from him. He went out of his way to help you with your voice problem and this is what he gets? It irked him, claws digging into the chair he was sitting on, causing some of the cushioning to rip. His irritated behavior was very easy to spot from the other residents, hinting that it be best to avoid him for the time being. "Hey." A soft voice spoke next to Al, snapping him out of his thoughts, head turning to see you standing, hands behind your back. "Come out of hiding, have we?" Alastor's smile had grew, showing off his large teeth, as he noticed your shy nature.

🩷 Normally you would insult him, but this time you presented him with a radio? Removing the object from behind your back, you revealed a small radio to him, resembling the one that got destroyed from the last extermination. Handing it to him, you looked away, fingers twirling your blue braids. "Never tinkered with something this ancient before, so it took a while to get all the parts working. Figured it was a way to thank ya for.....ya know." Alastor continued to look at you, eyes widen in awe. You did this for him? It made his black heart soften.

💙 "Why thank you, little bluebird! I must say, you have a real knack for this." Lips drew into a soft smile, as the radio in his hand had vanished, having been teleported into his room. "Jinx," you muttered out, earning a head tilt from the red man in front of you. "Jinx?" Alastor repeated, confused at what you said. "Yup that's me. That's my name. Don't wear it out, deer man." You said, rolling your eyes at him, as you walked away, going back to hide in your room. Well well, the little bluebird has a name, Al thought to himself, smiling even wider.

🩷It was nice to see that the two of you weren't butting heads anymore, the both of you could actually manage to stay in a room together without causing Charlie to worry. Alastor greatly admired your talent at inventing, especially weapons. He never heard of "Hextech" before, but he preferred it more to the so-called Vox tech that his rival created. You even offered to fiddle with his microphone, which he refused, "Come on! I ain't gonna break the thing. Just wanna add some things here and there to it." Grabby hands aimed for his staff, which he held out of your reach. "No thank you, my dear. I like my staff the way it is, thank you." Groaning, you placed your hands on your hips, "Jeez! You're such an old man." Scoffing at you, Alastor twirled his microphone staff, while giving you a playful glare. "I may be from the 1900s, but I'm not an old man, little blue bird." Chuckling, the violet eyes of yours did a roll, "Fine, then you're an old deer." Only response you got from Al was a small chuckle, giving your forehead a small flick, before he disappeared.

💙This was the Jinx that Al had gotten to know better, he hadn't seen the Jinx that roamed the streets of hell, and boy were you a spectacle to watch. The quickness of your moves outmatched your opponents, and not only that, you were a very good shot. The weapons you yielded either left your victims with holes through their heads or parts of themselves being blown up from your chomper bombs. Quite impressive. He wouldn't mind you joining him during one of his hunts, as your fighting skills would be greatly appreciated.

🩷 His radio tower was your safe haven during one of your "episodes." The past always came back to haunt you, visions of your trauma taunting you wherever you looked. Al was always present in his tower when they occurred, his presence being enough to get you through them. He knew that you had a bit of an aversion to physical touch like him, so he chose just to sit next to you, then wrapping his arms around you or holding your hand. He heard you mention some names like "Vi" and "Vander," but he never questioned you.

💙The episode finally ended, making you extremely tired, resulting in your head falling on to Al's lap, causing a radio screech to sound out. Alastor raised his hands up in the air, not expecting you to drift off so quickly, and on his lap as well. The feelings of unease he felt was prickling at his back, yet they quickly went away as he calmed down, trying to get use to the sensation of you touching him. His crimson eyes caused at you, laughing a bit at the little snore that came out of your mouth. His gaze started to focus on your long blue braids, grasping on of them in his hands, wrapping the softness in his fingers. He never was a fan of blue, but he slowly came to admire it a bit when he was with you. His shadow had emerged from the ground, teasing him by making heart shapes in his eyes, which Alastor ignored, shooing the entity away. His shadow left, leaving just you and Alastor alone, as Alastor continued to play with your hair as you continued to doze off.

-END-

Sinners:

@alastorsgoldie @91062854-ka , @delectableworm , @iiotic

@cookiekyo , @demoarah , @danveration , @beebsbea ,

@veethewriter , @forbidden-sunlight , @pinkcrystal44 , @luujjvi ,

@unholycheesesnack , @saturnhas82moons , @jyoongim ,

@aceofcards0-0 , @ghostdoodlen , @yourdoorisunlocked ,

@starshipcookie , @ainsliemac , @aria-tempest , @nobuharashinyao

, @sweet06tart , @blakedbeanss , @ihyperfixatedagain , @ktssstuff ,

@yakultt-art , @mooniee123 , @nightmarenaya , @darischerry ,

@sadnessiscoldtea , @alastorssimp , @imacollasaltitan ,

@dilucragnvindr-my-beloved , @batmanmonstarr , @felice-jaganshi ,

@justchillaine , @crazed-flower , @ohmylovewhereartthou-blog ,

@akiooshizuka , @lokis-imaginary-friend ,

@themysteriousslenderman , @huntlowfan , @futureittomainn ,

@christinaatyourservice92 , , @just-trash-yeah-thats-it ,

@angelinevalentine89 , @yunimimii , @staryosh1 ,

@mihawksdemoness , @crystalreads , @blahblahbruhmeow ,

@madam-strawberryrose , @inkslayer , @azazel-nyx , @lixanjewel ,

@artemisandhunters , @thereeallink , @ask-theradio-demon ,

@lousypotatoes @l4zyb0n35 , @midorichoco

@lillyisfreakyy , @alastorthirsty , @yukiinee ,

, @aconstructofamind @angiiiiiiiiie

@pumppkinlynn @erikaafernns , @silverpaw2 ,

@cosmiccandydreamer , @killer-nightmare0 , @visara-valentina

@thereallsaturnstar , @coffee-or-hot-cocoa ,

@fckedupandbeautiful , @fries11 ,

@toneystank-3000. , @doll-babe-a-tron-queenthousand

, @alastor-the-radio-demons-blog , @twistedvanillacoffee

@morganodaidiot , @boldlyenchantingfox22 , @verona2314 ,

@angelmoonlight , @thatbadassauthor , @wantondoe ,

@doorknobhater , @the-stereo-demoness

250 notes · View notes

ns-imagines · 1 year ago

Text

Nikto никто

Nikto Character Introduction

If you find yourself drooling over possessive and obsessive!Ghost or König lemme introduce you to Nikto…

SFW [ all cannon information ]

Word Count: TBA its a lot

Warnings: Disorder mention; Torture mention; dissociative disorder mentioned;

A/N: Lemme talk to you for a moment…

My new masked crush. Heart and coochie go brrrrrrrrrrrrr

Post has not been checked for grammar corrections / Not requested :D

Cannon Information:

Nikto (Neeek-toe) is a Operator in Spetsnaz for the Allegiance faction which is within the KorTac Organization. Basically hes a contractor for the contractors. Its cannon that he has facial scarring which is why he wears a mask. Not a turn off for me ah ha ha

So he isn’t necessarily a good guy like the 141 guys (even though now they’re considered war criminals I suppose) but he’s also not a bad guy. In summary, man does what he gets hired to do.

Anyways, after going AWOL in October 2022 from the Russian contracting military group he resurfaced in June 2023 (also the introduction of his character in the game). He resurfaced being the leader of a military group which was overtaking the Dutch city of Vondel.

On the Official Wiki he is only given two paragraphs of biography. You can read it here -> https://callofduty.fandom.com/wiki/Nikto

Also mentioned on the page [ for the COD Mobile universe ] is that theres cannon beef between Ghost and Nikto!! Yes, you heard me right. So on the wiki it is mentioned that Nikto was working for a guy named Templar. Whom is betrayed and killed by Ghost. Then when Ghost went after everyone else in the helicopter he shot Nikto. It was thought that Nikto died from the shot but he didnt….

Nikto reappears when he takes a group of people hostage and records a video explaining that the world has failed them and has left people like (Nikto) to beg and then fight over the scraps. Price (yes Price) tries to convince Nikto to let the hostages go and to basically chill out but Nikto wins by blowing up the building. With the hostages inside.

Okay maybe he has beef with all of 141… and is kinda a bad guy I can change him

SO then time passes and Nikto reappears again seeking a gun deal with a dude named Gunzo. Gunzo asks Nikto “why a man wanted on every continent, doesnt have guns” this pisses Nikto off. Nikto replies with “i dont need guns” then proceeds to buy the guns from Gunzo. Then Nikto gasses the fuck out of Gunzo and his men with Nova Gas. Nikto explains to Gunzo that the world is failing blah blah. He then goes on to brag about how he doesnt need a gas mask to breath like everyone else because hes that edgy and then he just executes Gunzo. We can fix him

Nikto disappears again only to reappear flying a F-85B Bullshark and leading a military riot. He then orders a attack on Prices convoy (video below) and basically down their helicopter. In the video below you can see small arms fire, an RPG, and then a finishing shot. Which was shot by Nikto’s aircraft. Okay maybe he is bad, we can fix him ?

Which you can watch here -> https://youtu.be/dDaCTCu82t0

youtube

In game bio from MW, CODM, and MW2

It is referenced in his bio MW and CODM that he has acute dissociative disorder. Which according to WebMD

“Dissociative disorders involve problems with memory, identity, emotion, perception, behavior and sense of self. Dissociative symptoms can potentially disrupt every area of mental functioning. Dissociation is a disconnection between a person’s thoughts, memories, feelings, actions or sense of who he or she is.”

Which is explained to be from when he was tortured by Mr. Z. That event is also where he got his facial scarring from. Although he is Russian; in current MW2 timeline his nationality and language is [ REDACTED ]. I was looking around on the internet for why and Reddit believes its due to current world current events/tension. Rewording to: we can accept and love him. I dont think we can fix him.

I don’t expect this post to get a lot of attention but for those who like it my requests are fully open ❤️

i will definitely be posting more Nikto content and what I think Nikto looks like and how he acts.

Thank you for reading! -Kiv

#cod nikto #nikto x reader #call of duty x reader #character introduction #ghost x reader #konig x reader #simon ghost riley #konig mw2

1K notes · View notes

elusivewildflower · 7 months ago

Text

Never Leaving You Again | Colt Seavers x GN! Reader

Pairing: Colt Seavers x GN! Reader

Summary: After getting into a car accident and being unconscious for several days, Reader wakes up to find their ex-boyfriend Colt in their hospital room. They haven't spoken since his own accident over a year ago and Reader isn't exactly thrilled to see him.

Warnings: Hospitals, mention of injuries, very angsty as reader was ghosted by Colt a year ago and now he's shown back up. Ends happily, though!

Word Count: 1.9k

A/N: As always, thanks to the Goose Groupies for the help with ideas and encouragement!! This is loosely based off of this idea that @hederasgarden reblogged the other day! I've still got another Colt fic that is nearly finished, as this idea was a nice surprise to take over my muse! I hope you all enjoy! Please like and reblog!

As you regain consciousness, the first thing you notice is the sound of rhythmic beeping. Your eyelids feel heavy and your mouth is drier than the Sahara Desert. It takes a few attempts of opening your eyes before you’re finally successful. When you do, you’re greeted by the sight of a tiled ceiling. A few moments later and you begin to become aware of the rest of your body. Your head is pounding, you have a sharp pain in your ribs every time you breathe, and you’re pretty certain one of your legs is broken. There’s other aches and pains radiating throughout your body, but you’re unable to pinpoint exactly where quite yet.

You’ve deduced that you’re in the hospital. The sound of machines beeping, the familiar weight of an I.V. needle in your arm, and the harsh lighting made that easy to figure out. Now, you just needed to remember how you had gotten here. As you push yourself up into a sitting position, which causes your ribs to ache in protest, you let out a hiss of pain. Suddenly, you’re aware that you’re not in the room alone.

“Oh thank God, you’re awake!” A cry of relief came from a voice that sounded all too familiar.

Your brows furrowed in confusion at first, and then with anger. Sitting in an uncomfortable looking chair was none other than your ex, Colt Seavers. He certainly looked worse for wear. His short blond hair was all disheveled, he had bags under his eyes, and his clothes were wrinkled.

What the hell was he doing here?

You opened your mouth to ask that very question, but no sound came out. A hand rose to your throat as you realized you desperately needed something to drink.

Sensing what you needed, Colt rushed to your bedside table to pour you a cup of water from the pitcher that sat there. Wordlessly, you accepted the drink and gulped it down in record time. Colt took the empty cup from you and sat it back down.

“How are you feeling? Would you like more water? Do you remember anything?” Colt fired questions rapidly as he worried over you.

He was acting as if everything was completely normal between you. As if he had never ghosted you over a year ago and broke your heart. It was bad enough that you were still trying to piece together what landed you in the hospital in the first place, but for him to be here too? You were beyond confused and you were livid.

“What the hell are you doing here, Colt?” Your words didn’t hold as much menace in them as you felt, but you chalked that up to the fact that your voicebox felt strained.

Colt’s face fell drastically. He looked like a puppy that had just been kicked. His blue eyes darted back and forth as he tried to find his words. “I….I was your emergency contact.” He spoke softly, sounding deflated.

You sat there in silence for a moment as that information sank in. Fuck, did you really forget to change that? You shook your head, just because he was your contact and he showed up doesn’t make everything alright. He nearly died over a year ago from a stunt gone wrong and he didn’t let you sit at his bedside, so why did he deserve to sit at yours?

“You shouldn’t have come, Colt. You need to leave.” You finally broke the silence with your firm words.

Somehow Colt’s face fell even further. You didn’t understand why he looked so devastated. Neither of you had spoken since his accident, and it wasn’t from lack of trying – at least on your part. He ignored every single phone call and text message you sent. After a while, you had to give up. It wasn’t healthy to continue begging a man to let you take care of him – to be there for him.

Tears began to well up in Colt’s eyes as he looked away from you. He sniffled and chuckled ruefully before speaking. “I thought if you still had me as your contact, then that meant you would want me here…”

Your mouth dropped open for a moment as you were at a loss for words. You stared at him in disbelief. “We haven’t spoken in over a year, Colt! You….you ghosted me!” Colt flinched as your voice raised, but you continued on. “You ignored me!” Your arms flailed around wildly as you shouted. “You shut me out!” By now, tears had welled up in your own eyes and were trailing down your cheeks. “Why would I want you here?!”

Colt didn’t have a chance to respond as the volume of your voice must’ve alerted the nurses you were finally awake. Seconds later, one popped in with a concerned look. “Is everything alright in here?”

You glanced between the nurse and Colt with a heavy sigh, but nodded. Colt remained silent and his gaze was now glued to the floor. Every so often you could hear him sniffle and his hand would raise to wipe at his nose. You tried your best to blink back your tears as the nurse came over to check your vitals.

The air in the room was heavy and uncomfortable as the nurse asked you various questions about what you remembered. It started with your name, your birthday, where you worked, and ended with what you recalled from your accident. Thankfully, in the last ten minutes of arguing with Colt, the memory of the car crash had come back to you. What you didn’t realize, however, was that you had been unconscious for several days. The nurse took her time explaining to you the extent of your injuries and that you’d be staying in the hospital for at least a few more days. She refilled your cup with water and told you the doctor would be in to see you shortly before leaving. She shot one last glance towards Colt on her way out.

Now, the two of you were alone again. After you reached over to grab your cup of water and take a few sips from it, your attention settled on Colt. God, he really looked like shit. Even more so now that his eyes were red and puffy from crying. He still refused to look up from the tiled floor, but you could see the tears that continued to fall down his face. You let out another heavy sigh, ignoring the sharp pain in your ribs. He was crying because of you. While a part of you rejoiced to know that he felt at least a fraction of the hurt you felt when he left you, the other part of you ached with regret.

You set your cup back on the bedside table. “Have you been here the whole time?” You asked softly.

Colt finally lifted his gaze to meet yours and nodded. “I came as soon as I got the call.” He then chuckled wetly as he brushed away a few tears and sniffled. “I didn’t want you to be alone.”

The ache in your heart only worsened at his admission and tears were blurring your vision. But there was still one nagging question you had to ask. “Why didn’t you let me be there for you?”

Now it was Colt’s turn to sigh heavily. His hands rubbed up and down his thighs as he shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “I…was embarrassed and felt like a failure.” His eyes refused to meet yours as he continued. “I nearly killed myself in front of you and the whole crew because I made a miscalculation– which turns out, wasn’t a miscalculation at all.” His words confused you, but he didn’t leave any time for you to speak. “But, at the time I thought I had screwed up. I didn’t think you’d want to deal with all of the….serious stuff.”

All you could do was shake your head as Colt rambled on. “You know, the surgeries, the rehab, the…bathroom stuff.” He gave a shrug of his shoulders. “After a while, I realized my mistake. But I thought it was too late….That you had probably moved on.” He sucked in a shaky breath. “When I got that call…” He trailed off for a moment, wiping away fresh tears that had fallen down his cheeks. “I finally knew how you felt that day and I am so sorry for shutting you out.” Colt finally let his baby blues meet yours as he apologized.

“I thought that if I was your emergency contact, that maybe I hadn’t missed my chance.” His eyes fell from yours once more as he shook his head solemnly. “I see now that I was wrong…” Colt pushed himself up from his seat and heaved a sigh, glancing towards the door before speaking once more. “For whatever it’s worth, I’m still in love with you.”

As you watched him walk towards the door, your heart felt as if it was breaking into two all over again. You knew deep down that you couldn’t let him leave. “Colt, wait–.”

He halted in his tracks and looked at you expectantly. You could see it written all over his face – the hope that you would tell him what he desperately wanted to hear.

More tears cascaded down your cheeks and your lips trembled as you drew in a shaky breath. “I’m still in love with you too.” You admitted softly.

A beaming smile spread across Colt’s face as he laughed with relief. He was happier than you had seen him in a very long time. In mere seconds he crossed the room and crashed his lips against yours. His large, calloused, hand reached for your jaw and held you in place. He didn’t want you pulling away from him any time soon, but you had no plans of doing that anyway. One of your hands threaded through his messy hair as you passionately devoured each other. His thick beard scratched across your skin, but you loved every second of it. Your heart rate was increasing by the minute, the rhythmic beeping kicking up in tempo, but neither of you cared. It had been far too long since your last kiss. When you absolutely had to pull away for air, there was hardly a gap between you. Your breaths mingled and noses nuzzled against each other gently.

After a moment of having full oxygen in your brain again, your confusion from earlier returned. Your brows furrowed as you posed your question. “What did you mean by your accident wasn’t a miscalculation?”

Colt chuckled softly, planting another kiss on your lips. “Oh, sweetheart, we’ve got a lot to catch up on.”

This time, you couldn’t help but laugh too. “Mm, eighteen months is a long time to be apart.” Your mind is briefly filled with all of the things you would have to catch him up on. For the first time in a long time, you feel giddy.

“And I’m never leaving you again.” He murmured confidently, the tears in his blue eyes finally drying up as a light now shined within them.

You captured his lips in a tender kiss and he responded eagerly. It wasn’t long before his tongue was licking into your mouth and exploring every inch that he had missed in your time apart. You knew there was much for you to discuss, and you had a lengthy road to recovery, but there was no one else in the world you’d rather be with than Colt.

The two of you would figure it out – and that gave you hope for the first time in over a year.

#colt seavers fic #the fall guy fic #colt seavers x reader #colt seavers x gn! reader #colt seavers #the fall guy #ryan gosling fic #ryan gosling #my fics

242 notes · View notes

halcyone-of-the-sea · 1 year ago

Text

How To Adapt To Fire (I)

AU MASTERLIST || PART II

PAIRING: Fireman!John 'Soap' MacTavish x F!Journalist!Reader

WORDCOUNT: 4.4k

WARNINGS: Fire(s), intended harm, mentions of death, murder, crime, corruption, arsonist mystery plot, pining, protective!Johnny, flirting, intense banter, etc.

A/N: This is based off of US Firemen just because that's what I'm most familiar with!

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

There was an arsonist in the city, and you were going to catch them.

Getting out of your car, you slap the door closed behind you and rush out, heels clicking over the concrete as the roaring flames continue violently—orange and red going high into the air, all centered around an abandoned warehouse building. Through the darkness of night, everything was lit up like hell.

Your satchel hits against your thigh one fast step at a time, arms pumping as your eyes find the flashing lights beyond the glare, squinting.

“MacTavish!” You shout, jogging to the line of yellow tape and slipping under it through a small crowd of locals who call to you sharply. Voices going in one ear and out the other, you only search for that familiar helmeted head and the Scottish accent that accompanies it.

“What is she doing?”

“How come she gets to go closer!?”

“Stop that woman!”

Your white blouse does little to push back the gusts of molten heat on the roaring airwaves, and neither do your dress pants. You push on with stubborn righteousness, even as the mulling firefighters groan under their breaths when they catch sight of you, all pausing in their various duties and panic of grabbing the hoses and getting the water going.

The iconic red trucks sit stationary, but the man beside one of the three vehicles has his head nearly snapped off when he darts it over to you in a fast instant.

“MacTavish!” You call out again, locking onto wide blue eyes that blink rapidly at your appearance.

An under-the-breath curse is leveled out, heard in between shouts and the spray of water, droplets hitting your hard face.

“Steamin’ bloody Jesus. Not again.” Heavy boots jog over, tan and yellow uniform loose beside the places where the straps of his gear attach various items and tools to his body. “What in the hell are you doin’ here, Pencils?”

“My job,” you call stiffly, your finger going out to tap at the small plastic card attached to your blouse.

‘PRESS PASS’

“So be a good informant and tell me how much damage this is going to cause,” your hand is already inside of your satchel, flicking on a hand-held recorder, as your eyes scan about. “The fire was bigger here,” you begin without wasting any time, and the firefighter in front of you sighs in exasperation, clenching his jaw. “Was it because this place was abandoned unlike the last four scenes, or because there was a different accelerant used.”

“I’ve told you, Hen,” MacTavish’s hand moves out in appeasement gestures, glancing at the fire and the rest of the teams that rush to get the rest of the hoses going. “Ya can’t be here when the fucking fire is still ongoing. Do you want to get burnt to a damn crisp?”

“I need answers,” you level, gaze darting back to stare into cerulean blues.

John MacTavish, who everyone just calls Johnny or Soap, for some reason, had been a familiar face to you for upwards of two months. In that time, there had been an alarming amount of suspected arson cases—twelve, counting this one. There was an unprecedented spark-up, most taking place in older neighborhoods and abandoned buildings barring the previous four, of which two people had been seriously injured, and three had died.

But now, it was back to out-of-the-way properties, and you wanted to know why. You needed to.

Such an escalation just to suddenly drop back down to no casualties? It didn’t make sense. If it wasn’t for your career as a journalist, then it was for your morbid curiosity of which Johnny was intently familiar with.

The Scot clenches his jaw, dark eyebrows under his helmet stuck into a line. Around him, the others were getting the blaze under control the best they could—there was no need to go inside to search for anyone and all that had to be done was keep the fire from spreading. So, he had no trouble trying to get you to see sense yet again.

“Do you ever give it a rest,” he asks gruffly, accent thick. “Christ, I’ll be gray before you learn to stop sticking your hands where they don’t belong.”

“You’re not my mother, MacTavish,” you speak, lowering the recorder. “Do you have anything for me?”

Johnny moves up a hand and runs it over his face, groaning. A smirk flickers to your lips.

“You’re worse than a fly,” he breathes, unimpressed eyes opening to stick to you. “I can’t say much right now, most of it is left for forensics. Just from the blaze alone,” he glances over, taking it in. “I’d make a guess that an accelerant was used. Especially with how fast it popped up and the intensity of it. I’d have to get the dogs down here for a sniff, but it’s likely.”

“Do you think it’s—”

“Connected?” Johnny interrupts, lips twitching at the annotated gimmer in your eye. “Aye. This was man-made. There was nothing here that could start a blaze like this.”

You click the recorder’s button and move back with a sigh.

“Lovely.”

The Scot raises a slow brow, looking you up and down, confused. “That’s it?”

“It’s all you can give me right now,” you mutter, sliding a look at him as your eyes squint at the rabid flames. Pieces of screeching metal fall into a heap, a loud boom of spreading smoke and lifeless coughing of material in the air.

“Fucking hell,” you murmur to yourself. “This had to be one of the biggest ones so far.”

It was getting held back from the surrounding buildings—slowly but surely in the morning, the entire place would be a smoldering pile of ash and metal, only more questions left behind.

Johnny sets his hands on the collar of his gear, sighing. “Won’t be the deadliest, though, will it? I’m just glad there won’t be bodies to drag out.”

You send a side-eye his way, feet shuffling. “That, I can agree with. But the pattern doesn’t make any sense to me.”

“Well, sorry, Hen, but you’ll catch me a bit more concerned about the potential next targets than the pattern.” He grunts, rolling his shoulders. “We need to catch this prick. Soon. Resources are stretched thin.”

“It’s like the guy completely switched his M.O.,” you ignore him, eyes narrowing. “Abandoned buildings, then to taking people's lives, then right back to where he started? That doesn’t happen overnight.”

Johnny grunts. “‘Cept here.”

You sigh, tapping your fingers against your bag. The man at your side looks over, shrugging as he takes in the firmness of your expression—the same that he usually wears to any scene he gets called to. Determination.

“I’ll get the report to you soon as I get it,” Johnny breathes, tilting his head. “Figured with all of your connections, you’ll have a better chance at piecing it all together.”

“Thank you,” you nod. The man hums.

“Now, get the hell out of here, yeah? Makin’ me nervous. Tape’s there for a reason Dearie.”

Scoffing, you toss up a hand and shake your head. “I live to make people nervous, MacTavish. You don’t help bust criminals and not make people nervous.”

You begin backing back up, studying the land one more time. Johnny’s lips are thin, and he shifts his legs to stare after you.

“Just be careful,” he calls, fingers tightening at his collar, strong jaw moving as he fixes it. His heart stutters in its course. “Don’t stick your neck where it doesn’t belong, Hen.”

You wave a hand, and then you’re off again, disappearing into the crowd with flames rising high behind you.

The fireman watches tightly, licking his lips before shouting, “I’m serious!”

—

Your list of enemies was seemingly endless.

Drug busts, criminal enterprises, hitmen—there was no shortage of stories you’d broken and your name being printed into the papers; you weren’t at all unknown to the city or the various police or fire stations. Many described you as a public nuisance, but…you were viewed with a modicum of respect as well—even if it was kept under breath.

Yet, where there was respect, there was also the less savory emotion of contempt from the related individuals of those whom you’d landed into the eyes of the law and behind bars.

Perhaps you’d taken this arsonist for a disorganized fool…but you were about to get a very violent reality shift.

“This is the report?” You ask, Johnny sipping from his coffee cup as you both sit in the park three days later, the bench stiff as your fingers play over the manila folder you’d been passed.

“The public one.” Soap huffs when you slide him a look, his finger pointing at you as he holds his drink. “What? Pencils, I don’t care who you think you are, I’m not about to risk my career for something I can just tell you first-hand.”

You sigh, muttering before your hand pushes open the papers. “Go on, then.”

Johnny smugly smirks, chuckling as his free hand goes up to fix the backward ballcap on his head. Under the tight hold of his athletic shirt, gray sweatpants sharply contract your put-together and professional appearance—like night and day. He still smells of smoke and metal.

“You’re bein’ more snappy than usual. Publisher still on your arse, Bonnie?”

“Telling me I need to drop this goose chase,” you grumble, scoffing, eyes skimming down the printed words ahead of you. “As if.”

“Ah, he’ll come round,” Johnny’s lips flicker, flesh crinkling under that stubble of his. An overgrown mohawk leaks from the sides of his hat. “C’mon, tell me what ya need. I’ve got it all up here,” he goes to tap his head, taking another gulp of his coffee.

The morning air is cold all around you, and people pass pushing strollers or jogging—Saturday just beginning to spread over minds and wake those who’ve slept in. Johnny and you weren’t quite like that.

“Our theory about the accelerant?”

“My theory,” Soap grumbles but nods. “Gasoline. Dogs found traces all over—there was a damn lot.”

You tilt your head, glancing at him. “Fits the profile from the other cases except the ones involving casualties.” Your lips pull into a frown, Johnny’s face going more serious. “Weren’t those all started with matches to the curtains in the living rooms?”

“Aye,” Johnny tips his chin to you. “Couldn’t figure that out until—”

“Until you found the matchbox out in the lawn at one of the crime scenes, plus the busted locks on the front doors. All exactly the same.”

The fireman grunts, lips flickering as his face goes a bit red. “Know my job better than I do.”

You pause, a small heat coming to your cheeks, eyes pausing in their search for new information. “I’m not the one who willingly goes into burning buildings, give yourself more credit.”

Johnny leans closer, chuckling. “Was that a compliment, Pencils?”

“No,” you slide out.

He hums a sound of amusement, moving back as his form slouches into the bench. A bird darts past overhead, chirping. “Goin’ soft on me. ‘Bout time—I've been waiting.”

You roll your eyes heavily, closing the manila folder and shifting it into your satchel.

“Don’t you have somewhere to be?” You face Soap head-on, taking in the deep blue of his eyes and the tease hidden in them. “The station? Home?” Your brow raises. “Animal shelter—I heard they take in strays.”

“Ah,” Johnny flinches, hand raising to his chest as he feigns hurt. “This how you thank your favorite public servant?”

“You’ll live,” you grumble, standing and flattening out your long black coat. “Come on. Seeing as you’re not entirely lost to me, I’m getting breakfast today.”

Johnny’s beaming grin makes your lips pull in a low smile.

“And just like that,” he chuckles, standing up so that his boots hit the ground and his hand falls into his pocket. The empty cup in his hand is tossed into the trash. “I’m a picture-perfect specimen. Not that I wasn’t already, eh?”

“Oh, fuck off,” you breathe, voice exasperated even as your smile breeds along the lines of your face.

The both of you take off side by side, legs mirroring the others’ pace one slow movement at a time. Throughout your meetings for information, Johnny and yourself have grown close to one another—Violet’s Dinner one of the many places that was the unfortunate hub for your intel swapping. However, it was only unfortunate for the patrons, not you.

Soap gave what he knows about the fires and the ways they were started, and you gave over potential next targets based on whatever you can piece together from your police informants as well as others.

You hum as you both walk the trail, slowly weaving away from the bench and down to the gated entrance of the park, slipping past the black iron as John holds it open for you.

“Besides the ol’ fire-freak, then,” Johnny begins, smiling over at you as he itches at his neck, large arm reaching up and flexing. “Any other big breaks?”

Head turning his way, you speak easily. “In which article—the multi-generational money laundering bust at Warren’s Electrical or the murders near Fifth Ave? Or even the drug smuggling near the docks?”

Blue eyes blink. “...Eh…any of ‘em?”

You snort, turning back to the sidewalk and shrugging.

“You asked.” You slyly begin, before getting into the mental paper that you still had to type and send into editing. “Roy Laurence committed the murders near Fifth Avenue—my informant with the SWAT team says he was arrested and booked within an hour of the green light. DNA and fingerprints found at the scene of the last victim.” You raise a hand. “Now, I just have to try and get a spot in the courtroom when a trial date is released.”

“Well,” Johnny breathes, sending you a veiled look after a moment. “Don’t mean to brag, Pencils, but I got to help an old lady cross the street yesterday.”

You laugh, covering your mouth with the back of your hand as Soap chuckles. The sidewalk continues, men and women passing at their slow paces as cars zip past; the fireman taking the chivalrous stance of the person beside the street unconsciously.

“And I’m sure she was very pleased, MacTavish,” you push out, shifting closer to him as an individual passes by, bumping your arm into his.

“Aye, she was,” the man huffs proudly, puffing his chest. “Called me a handsome bloke and kissed my cheek. Blushed a bit.”

“Playboy,” you tease, eyes narrowed over at him. “Cheating on the mutts back at the station?”

Johnny gasps, putting on a serious face. “Don’t you call Mr. Spots a mutt, Dearie—that’s too far.”

“Christ,” you breathe, and an arm settles over your shoulders, shaking you a bit and squeezing your flesh before chuckles follow.

Trying not to sink into the feeling of heat and the promise of fire, you live in this moment of nearly something. There was the close sensation of borderline affection—just brushing the sense of care and…pining.

You knew the Scot was interested in you, or, at the very least, knew he had some modicum of attraction to you. Hell, the way he’d flirted with you when you’d propositioned him to be your link to the fire department was nearly laughable even today. All smirks and glinting eyes.

John was funny, no one was denying it.

There was that firm push and pull between the two of you, a string attached to your wrists that wouldn’t snap—that had seemingly only grown stronger over the months of mystery. But the arsonist took precedence.

Play can only come after work, and you were the picture of professionalism. Or maybe just stubbornness.

“The regular?” Johnny asks, letting you go as he pushes open the front door of Violet’s with his shoulder, keeping it there as you move inside and nod.

“Sure. Same seats?”

The fireman smirks. “Always.”

You smile, walking off to the corner booth as John goes up to the front, waving down the familiar face of the waitress to let her know that the both of you are here. The two exchange pleasantries as you sigh and lean back into the red-cushioned seats, letting your satchel drop near your feet. Sending a text to your editor, you tell him that you’ll have an article written up about one of your ongoing fixations by Monday.

Johnny’s broad shadow soon graces you once more, carrying a plate of fresh bread with butter on it.

“Lady’s a fuckin’ lifesaver,” he breathes. “Gave us free bread today.”

Your eyes dart over to Tammy, the waitress, who winks at you before disappearing to help another customer. Hiding the twitch of your lips, you raise a brow at John.

“Don’t you usually get pancakes, too? Your stomach will explode,” you huff.

“Ah,” his face scrunches in dismissal. “There’s always room for fresh bread.”

His large fingers are already around the body of a knife, slathering gooey butter on a steaming piece of the carb, chomping down and swallowing before he speaks—reaching for another.

“So, spill it on me.”

Your fingers reach out, grasping some bread and bringing it to your lips. You chew, swallow, and ease out, “I think there are two arsonists.”

Johnny pauses, wide eyes stuck on you as he stops his hand from bringing up the next piece of food. He blinks, his face tightens as he wonders over the information that you have, and then the groans out a long, “Fucking hell… one who’s doing it for kicks, the other who’s settling scores.”

“Precisely,” you shrug. “It explains the complete break in character, and we have enough fires to show that not only is the way the flames started different, but for different reasons as well. One wants to kill, the other can’t control it. Impulse.”

“Makes sense,” Johnny grumbles, amused mood for the moment dropping to one of flashing anger. He taps his knuckles slowly on the table, thinking. “You tell the police this theory?”

“Nah,” you shake your head as your legs shift along the seat. “You know how the chief gets about me—I need to do some of my own leg-work. Get more evidence.”

The Fireman is already shaking his head with a chuckle that has no ounce of tease or jest in it. “Nah ah, no fuckin’ way am I letting you get involved with two arsonists—certainly not one that kills people, Hen.”

“Well, it’s a good thing I’m not asking permission,” you smirk as your breakfast plates are brought over. Johnny’s is full of eggs, bacon, and pancakes, and you, your regular. You thank Tammy with a nod and take a sip of your small drink. “There has to be a connection between the victims. I’ve written about them before, my notes have the answers, I’m sure. I need to focus on one at a time—”

“Bonnie—”

“A possible Revenge-Motivated Arsonist is a far bigger threat than one that only has an impulse to light fires and not harm others. I’ll leave the ladder to you—”

A hand grabs at your own, grasping it firmly. Head snapping up to the square jaw ahead of you, which is tight, the stubble moving the scar along his chin one frown line at a time, you pause your quick rant. Face steadily heating as callouses run along your flesh like un-cut granite, your heart stutters.

“You’ll do nothing without me.” Johnny’s expression leaves no room for discussion.

Mouth slightly parted, your eyelids blink before a squeeze is leveled out on your hand, and the Fireman shifts back. Your eyes follow, stuck on how his shirt hugs his large biceps and the gentleness of how he held you—how he always held you.

Focus.

“You’re not getting dragged into this,” you chuckle, tilting your head seriously. “It could cost you your job.”

Johnny shrugs. “Only if I’m caught. If you're half as stubborn, as I already know you to be, Pencils,” he sighs, low smile coming to his lips. “Then I know you’ll be needing my level head.” Cobalt eyes twinkle.

You stare at him, blinking. Ignoring that skip in your pulse. As hard as you would like to try, you can’t say no to that face of his—that open expectation and firm choice.

“As level as a steep decline,” your grumble meets Soap’s ears, and the man’s face twists with an ingrained amusement that breeds the closer you are to him. It was easy to bounce jokes with you—like a pair of birds, squawking and puffing feathers, only stopping at strange intervals to preen one another before the loud chatter started anew.

“And stop it with the dumb nickname already,” you glare. “It happened once.”

John drags his plate closer, picking up a piece of bacon and taking a bite out of it. “It isn’t every day you see a bonnie Hen with seven pencils in her breast pocket, is it? Hell of a first meeting with that serious face of yours and the sight of fabric practically ripping open.”

“I was in a rush,” your face burns, jaw rotating. “At least I was prepared, MacTavish.”

“Well, who’s sayin’ I wasn’t prepared?”

“Me!” Your fingers grab at your fork, pointing it at him. “You were practically covered head-to-toe in ashes!”

Red cheeks on his part, but always that adorning sheen to his expression.

“I was just in from a damn fire!”

Breakfast went as it usually did—good food and better company—but there was a deeper level to it now; a sharp edge of purpose. By the time the both of you were done, you’d already made up your mind to make it back to your apartment and gather the intel that you had. Find a starting point.

But, as mysteries like these always go, the good times came to a rapid cliff-drop. Johnny was muttering about his work schedule back on the sidewalk when he got the call.

Phone to ear, you’d seen his face tighten—feet going completely still as you have to halt and look back at him, confused. A breeze goes by on the air, and your nose twitches to a sharp tang that leaves your fingers twitching.

“What do you mean, ‘fire on third street?’” Your body locks up, and Johnny’s face becomes devoid of pigment, watching yours closely. It was a strange emotion on his face; a hard and hesitant thing all at once. He was staring, brows pulled in as your lungs seemingly went to concrete inside of your ribs.

Third street? Fire?

Soap’s voice goes even lower. Spine even more straight. “...Stillview apartments?”

You’re already running before you can understand the severity of the revelation—dashing as Johnny yells after you to stop.

That was your apartment building.

“Dearie!” The fireman shouts, his boots pounding after, but you had a head start, shoving through the crowds, dodging strollers and trash cans—bags and thrown curses. “Fucking hell, stop!”

Your form darts fast, heart hammering. Already your mind is running through every possibility and explanation. How could this be happening? Why? Has one of the arsonists found you out? But even then, it could only be the one intent on murder—countless others lived in your building; this was more than intent…it was a massacre.

Fires don’t just spark at a time like this to not be called connected.

Even over the air, you could hear sirens above Johnny’s loud pleas to slow down, moving as well as he could through the rush of people.

He’s still on the phone, barking questions and the will of his legs to take him in the direction of the department building. But you. The back of your head in his black-sided vision.

The man knows that if he doesn’t catch you, you’ll run straight into that blaze not only for the principal but your evidence. Your cork boards and their red strings—your pictures and printed articles. Johnny knew you had them, he wasn’t an idiot.

You were too smart for your own good.

He was nearly there—just a few more steps and he could grab the back of your jacket like some stray cat, pull you back until you were in his arms. A fireman, yes, but he’d never get used to the inferno that was you; you consumed him utterly. It was an instant feeling for him, and even with the initial flirting, the immediate latching of his attention held fast. A bird to a wire. Hopeless, he was. Johnny was afraid at how much you trapped him in your ways—your looks and your…you-ness.

And you were only making him more afraid at this very instant.

Soap was the only person ever supposed to be walking into fire.

“Hen!” The fireman barks, sharp and visceral. But you only take the next corner faster, satchel slapping against your thigh.

“No,” you pant, legs dashing. “No, no, no. I left everything I need for this case in my filing cabinet!”

This is what you get for trying to be organized for once.

You smell the smoke before you see it, and feel the heavy hand on your coat collar not a moment after you lock on it.

“MacTavish!” Your angered voice moves out, but it’s all strangled away in a fast moment of the screaming of sirens and the visible fire from your tall apartment building strikes you. Watching blankly, your face falls as strong arms reel you back into a chest.

“Fuck,” Johnny growls, eyes wide as he looks on, phone clenched tightly in one hand. His jaw writhes with tension, vision darting from one fire truck to another and the men available to help. People were doing a myriad of things—screaming, running, watching—but through it all, there was the presence of fear coupled with a static anticipation.

Panting heavily, you watch your life’s work go up in flames, and feel the tight arms of your informant keep you close.

You learn that if you don’t adapt to this fire sooner or later, it’s going to consume you. And still, you can’t understand if you’re talking about Johnny, who murmurs quick words of comfort into your ear, or the case that just locked you in with chains of commitment and rage.

The real work had just begun as ashes fell like snow to the street; the spray of the firetruck’s water flew with sure aim. Your face hardens, and you feel that worried grip tighten, bringing you into a ramshackle hug.

You have an arsonist to catch, and not a single person would stop you now.

TAGS:

@sheviro-blog, @ivebeentrashsince2001, @mrshesh, @berryjuicyy, @romantic-homicide, @kmi-02, @neelehksttr, @littlemisstrouble, @copperchromewriting, @coelhho-brannco, @pumpkinwitchcrusade, @fictional-men-have-my-heart, @sleepyqueerenergy, @cumikering, @everything-was-dark, @marmie-noir, @anna-banana27, @iamcautiouslyoptimistic, @irenelunarsworld, @rvjaa, @sarcanti, @aeneanc, @not-so-closeted-lesbian, @mutuallimbenclosure, @emily-who-killed-a-man, @gildedpoenies, @glitterypirateduck, @writeforfandoms, @kohsk3nico, @peteymcskeet, @caramlizedtomatoes, @yoursweetobsession, @quesowakanda, @chthonian-spectre, @so-no-feint, @ray-rook, @extracrunchymilk, @doggydale, @frazie99, @develised, @1-800-no-users-left, @nuncubus, @aldis-nuts, @clear-your-mind-and-dream, @noonanaz, @cosmicpro, @stinkaton, @waves-against-a-cliff, @idocarealot

1K notes · View notes

melbatron5000 · 8 months ago

Text

The Big Damn Kiss

Buckle up, my fellow Good Omens Ineffable Mystery Puzzlers, Crackpotters, and Assorted Brainrotters, because I learned something HUGE yesterday.

This will be a bit of a long post, because I want to show you exactly how I got where I am. I want you to understand. I want to put all the naysayers to bed (ha! But I'm still gonna try), and settle this once and for all.

I know (almost) exactly what Crowley gave to Aziraphale during the kiss.

DO NOT TAKE ANY OF MY THEORIES TO NEIL! PLEASE!

Okay? Okay. Thanks. Shall we begin?

Ahem.

Firstly, whether you believe me or not, I am 100% certain that Crowley did, indeed, give something to Aziraphale in his mouth during The Kiss. I've covered that in the link previous. Okay? Okay.

I did not know what it was. I've now heard theories that it was a bullet (nope), a ball bearing (nope), hellfire (nope), and no one, NO ONE has suggested what I see. (If you have, hello! Talk to me!)

Here's our first foreshadowing Clue:

And here's our next foreshadowing Clue:

And the next:

And our last Clue:

With me so far? Well, that first GIF is a bit off, I couldn't find one of Crowley actually spitting out the flies. But he does. When Beelzebub first drags him to Hell, he actually goes "Pleaugh!" and spits out four or five flies. Edit: Found it!

Moving right along, we come to Crowley in Heaven with Muriel, looking at the trial. We learn two important things here:

One, Gabriel doesn't have a desk.

Two, Muriel does. Where they keep the records. And it's a bit lonely. Every few hundred years, someone comes and asks for something. Muriel can't access the sensitive ones, you have to be pretty high up. A throne, dominion, or higher. Like, maybe Supreme Archangel?

So if Gabriel doesn't have a desk, whose desk is he at when he's getting ready to leave Heaven? Of course I can't find a damn picture of Gabriel at the desk, but it's Muriel's. Where they keep the RECORDS.

Gabriel puts his memory into the fly, then gets on the elevator to go to Earth.

Now, when Gabriel opens the fly with his memories inside, we find out that it's a container. Bigger on the inside. You can put thing(S) in it. The bit we see of him remembering is shot in two parts, one where he's flying down a red tunnel, one where he's flying down a blue. If you slow this scene down and watch, you can see that he is NOT looking at just his own memories. There is more going on here, more that he was not present for. @embracing-the-ineffable put up a great meta about that here. Go look!

Now I figured Gabriel must have taken something else. Something important. Something useful. Something he meant to give to Aziraphale, except he forgot.

I also figured he must have left whatever it was in the fly when he took his memories out. Crowley must have realized while watching the trial footage that Gabriel also grabbed something else. I don't know when Crowley grabs the fly, but he does. And that is what he gives to Aziraphale in the kiss. Why? Well.

I had no idea what Gabriel took until I started working on the chiastic structure of season 2. I'm not done with that analysis yet, but let me show you one thing that I have found so far:

(The numbers are just to try and help me navigate the story and its events without time stamps)

My note #357 of what happens isn't quite right, but when I saw the only two times Aziraphale says "I forgive you" are towards the beginning of Season 2 and towards the end, I realized I had something.

Rephrase line 357: Crowley's kiss is forgiven IN EXCHANGE FOR RECORDS.

(Not that I think Crowley's kiss needs to be forgiven. It's just what Aziraphale says, and had to say at that moment, because the Metatron was listening in.)

What does Heaven in Good Omens remind us of most of all?

A big corporate entity. And what do powerful people do when they get fired from a big corporate entity? They download all their emails while they're cleaning out their desks. Damning emails. Emails that can be used to black mail or even destroy big corporate entities. Or, ya know, maybe they swipe some sensitive RECORDS?

Oh yes.

Records that Gabriel meant to give to Aziraphale, but he forgot. Records that Crowley realized Gabriel had put in the fly. The fly that Crowley grabbed once Gabriel had his memory out. The fly that he gave to Aziraphale when he kissed him. The fly that no longer held Gabriel's memory, but did still contain those damning records.

Here's Aziraphale reading the records:

Here's Aziraphale being horrified and outraged by what he's reading:

And here's Aziraphale realizing he has got some GOOD DIRT on Heaven. Maybe enough to bring them down:

That's it folks. I have no idea what the records actually say, and maybe we're not meant to know until season 3, but whatever it is, it's GOOD.

That's my story, and by God Herself, I'm sticking to it.

#good omens #good omens 2 #crowley #good omens meta #aziraphale #ineffable husbands #aziracrow #good omens analysis #good omens fan theory #ineffable mystery #aziraphale elevator #corporate heaven #the big damn kiss #the kiss #good omens muriel #good omens gabriel #good omens beelzebub

385 notes · View notes

fillinforlater · 1 year ago

Note

Hello plz feel free to replace my Eunbi ask with a Rose daddy kink feet smut. She has maybe my fave feet for K idol and I dream of the day I can see this smut published. White polish Rose feet stuff, licking, sucking, tasting, feet fucking ofc, and also getting her pussy pounded cumming inside, but also cumming all over her feet. Plot line you can decide. Thanks QT.

The Interview

Male Reader x Roseanne Park

Length: 2188 words

Tags: feet kink, cheating, daddy kink, an interview gone wild, infidelity, fucking feet, feet licking, footjob, masturbation, creampie, hair pulling, cum drinking, rough sex, folding in half

TW: no editing lol

(A/N: the final request of my first request phase back in early 2022. This one is so old, sorry that you had to wait for so long buddy @sooyadelicacies. I hope you enjoy it lol)

"Are you not going to start the interview? Or are you just going to stare at my feet all day?"

"W-well, it's hard to focus, like, your legs are literally pointing down at them. Your sandals barely hide the rosie!"

Rose rolls her eyes. Slender arms folded like a pretzel, she leans back into the beige cushion of her chair, fifteen-hundred, made for her ass and her ass alone. In annoyance she watches her useless boyfriend put the back of his pen on her calves but even a heavy sigh does not stop his advance. In one continuous trail, he drags the pen to her knee before she stops him with a snarky remark.

"Will you stop it? This is important to me. I need your focus on this." She taps the clipboard in his hand, knowing all too well that his horny ass has not written down a single practice question. "Please practice this with me."

"Nah, I'd much rather practice with my cock in your pussie, Rosie~" he responds, face in a smirk so disgustingly self-satisfied at his pathetic attempt at a joke that no one would argue with him looking downright ugly. Rose turns to the side, arms entangled rightly.

"You don't give a fuck about this, hm?" Rose fires back and grips her boyfriend's wrist. "We can fuck afterwards, but not now. I need your help, so please, at least try to act like a journalist."

There he goes again, blank stare focussed on her feet, her face, turning to a smirk as he finds another horny rebuttal:

"I'm no journalist, I'd much rather be an explorer. I could write books about how smooth your legs feel and how tight your pussy is."

"He is a journalist, he can surely write better than you can ever dream off!"

Rose's shout makes the room go quiet. Not that there were more people anywhere near them—but it feels like every atom has stopped moving and only motionless, perfect silence remains. Her boyfriend sinks backwards into the couch, arms folded the same way she has, an eyebrow raised in more than light concern.

"Oh. It's a guy doing the interview?"

"Are you not going to start the interview? Or are you just going to stare at my feet all day?"

You straighten your neck, terrified at Rose’s carelessly spoken words. It was only for a fleeting moment that your eyes caught her bare feet, the way her slender legs seem to point down at them, it was impossible not to look. You could promise her that this was only because she decided not to wear any shoes, which would have explained it, but nonetheless, you are in deep shit.

“Excuse my behavior, please,” you quickly respond, beads of sweat forming at the side of your temple. “I was just spacing out. I know I shouldn’t, but please, forgive me.”

“You’re taking this too seriously,” Rose laughs and leans back into her chair. “Is this your first interview with…”

“With someone of your caliber—yes, though I have never felt nervousness rise in me to the point such a mistake happens. I really am sorry.” You bow your head to the idol, hoping to overplay any and every thought of her thinking that you’re thinking about her feet in all kinds of ways. “Shall we begin?”

You pull out your recording device, ready to hit play and make this the professional question and answer session it was supposed to be, but Rose interjects. God knows what she is thinking when she leans forward, slender fingers right above your thigh, voice husky and deep.

“You want them on your cock, right?”

“What?!”

“You want my feet around your cock, right

“Daddy?”

“E-excuse me?!”

“I can see you drooling.” Rose captures a string of saliva with her thumb, blowing away your coverage behind decency, and spreading it over your dry lips. “I can see the want in your eyes when you look at my feet. Aren’t they pretty?”

“R-Rose, this is highly—”

"Inappropriate?" she asks, a look of brattiness and disappointment on her stunning features as her pointy, purple painted nail pokes your cheek. “Inappropriate, like staring at a lady’s feet while fantasizing about them?”

“I-I told you I’m sorry. A-and I was not fantasizing in the slightest.”

Your explanation ends with a wince. The pointy ends of Rose’s delicate fingers sink into the skin of your neck. You throw your head back. The pain is sharp, severe enough that you want it to end, but your hands still tightly hold onto the clipboard and recording device.

“Now you’re lying, Daddy.” Rose repeats that damn word without care. “Why can’t you admit that you like my feet?”

“Because…” you stammer, trying to escape the idol by sinking deeper into the couch, but Rose gets closer to you. Her face right above yours, her thighs trapping yours, her other hand is right on your—

“Because then I wouldn’t be able to hold back!”

Rose is gone, the small of her back back in her seat, her entire body far away from yours. Her entire body? No. You could never forget about her bare feet, which she raises from the carpet and places them on your piping hot bulge. In an attempt at torture, she giggles while rubbing you in between her tiny toes, curling them, pressing them against the head of your hidden cock.

“What if I don’t want you to hold back?” she whispers and fiddles with the top of her dress.

“Rose, I—”

"Don’t talk, Daddy, just

“Take me.”

Drop these useless devices, there will be no record of what is about to happen. Rose’s last sentence has ended the interview before it even started. If you can’t talk with your mouth, your hands will have to do the talking. Nothing stops you from popping open your dress pants, yanking them down your legs, your bulge the only real(ly massive) obstacle, and getting a hold of Rose’s feet.

She smiles, pale cheeks blushing at your sight and the feeling of your cock on her soles. You adjust them, making a perfect pocket to thrust into, but before you can jerk your hips upwards, Rose has taken the lead with this absolutely dreamy look in her eyes.

“Oh Daddy~” Rose moans and moves her feet up and down your length. “You are so big and girthy. Let me worship you with my feet, pretty please.”

“I-I… you’re already doing it, Rosie,” you hiss, her soft soles feeling incredible, yet you wish for some kind of lubrication for things to go smoothly.

Rose nods, her breathing getting more rapid by the second: “It’s just that I—I can’t hold back anymore. Daddy, I need to make you cover my feet, Daddy!”

Not holding back, not holding back, not—you grab Rose’s left calf and as she still yelps in shock, you put her toes in your mouth. With all manners thrown out of the window, you slobber all over her pretty little foot, spit covering every inch of her spotless skin. Rose starts to moan, her other foot teasing the sensitive underside of your shaft, forcing droplets of clean precum out of the tip.

Done with one foot, you take the other and everything leads up to this vicious cycle of covering one foot in drool while the other massages your member, smearing it with your saliva. You take a second to open your eyes and look at the idol before you. She has melted into the chair, biting the fingers of one hand while the other is rubbing her clothed crotch.

"Take them off," you mindlessly groan, before your tongue twirls around her toes. "Take off your clothes for Daddy."

Rose is eager to nod at you using the uncalled for, yet not unwanted nickname. Her eagerness does not stop there however, as she is quick to get rid of her tight white outfit, the thin strings fly over her head, her skirt travels down her legs. Before they reach her feet, she starts to jerk you off, keeping you hard and horny the few short seconds without stimulation.

"Daddy, please plaster your thick cum on my feet!" Rose moans as she inserts two fingers into her cunt.

"I won't hold back."

Pull her ankles close to you. Rose almost falls off her chair, eyes in surprise, then bliss. She is piercing herself open, her fragile legs weak, fully under her control. She loses her mind, you help her lose it and you lose your mind, she helps you lose it and you lose your train of thought—fuck it, fuck her feet.

"Daddy, y-you really seem to like me feet~"

"Fuck, they are the softest."

Move your hips back and forth, her ankles forth and back, squeeze them tighter around your cock. Watch your tip poke through it, watch Rose's finger move in and out, watch her tongue fall out of her mouth. It's all getting you closer, your breathing is rapid, Rose's too. Is she also—

"Daddy, I'm so~close~" the idol mewls and you thrust faster.

"Finger yourself stupid!" you command. "Watch me paint your feet, fuck!"

Rose's eyes tremble. She can barely focus on your erupting cock as her own sex explodes in a violent, squirting orgasm that leaves her thighs and chair in a messy, wet puddle. A deep, echoing, dumb sounding scream comes from her wide open mouth. She is the opposite of you, quietly relishing in the bliss of a climax that sends strings of cum all over soles, feet, even up to her legs.

Before the tremble of Rose's legs makes your semen fall off of them onto the carpet, you quickly fold her in half. The surprisingly flexible woman now has her cum-covered feet dangling above her delirious, glowing face.

"Open your mouth, baby girl," you whisper and watch Rose instinctively stick out her tongue. Your cum drips from her thin legs and feet straight on her face. Rose licks off whatever she can get in desperate desire, while you poke her exposed labia with your stiff cock.

"How does it taste?" you jokingly ask, ready to penetrate her pristine pussy.

"Is this really the first question to your interview?"

"There was an interview?"

Oh fuck.

"Oh fuck!" Rose vocalizes your inner thought as her pussy engulfs your entire length. You can feel her sensitive walls wrap around you, cling onto you, like she wants to squeeze more of your initial load out of you. No, you first have to get there, but with this incredible tightness and her insanely lewd expression as she swallows your dripping cum, she will have you cumming in no time.

"F-forget the interview," Rose whines. "I'll send you the answers per, per mail."

"No, we'll do the interview. Now," you growl at her, fingers tightly grabbing her small thighs. "You'll answer truthfully, baby girl."

"Hng, I-I can't think!"

"No need to. Just tell me: who fucks you better?"

"Wha—ah!"

Rose screams, laughs when you tickle her feet by spreading the remnants of your first load over her soles. Through all of it you start to thrust slower but harder, the depths of her cunt spread widely by your tip. You watch Rose throw her head back and decide to ask again.

"Who fucks you better, Rose? Your boyfriend or me?"

"You, oh God, you!"

"And who did you wear this white polish for?"

"Y-you, I'm only fucking you."

You ponder for a second, resting a hand on her throat. Rose suddenly has these puppy eyes that lack lewdness but increase your desire to dump a ridiculously large second load in her tight cunt.

"God, you look so breedable," you groan and lean down to her face, strands of rose-gold hair not hiding but increasing her stunningness. "But remember: I'm the one fucking you."

"Yes, Daddy." Rose seems to brace for a hard final fucking, but you don't want to give it to her. You feel great, fully inside her small pussy, her juices around you, keeping you wet and warm.

"Final question, Mrs. sluttiest idol:

"Where do you want my seed?"

"I need it in my pussy, Daddy~"

"You need it?"

"Of course, Daddy~ Fill me up!"

A loving thumb crazing her cheek, that's your final showing of mercy. Her ponytail in one hand, clit pinch with the other, you start to jackhammer into Rose's pussy with all the power the word 'Daddy' has given you. You won't be able to keep this up for long, but Rose is already a mess, nothing compared to the powerful idol from before.

She wants to be the little messy nothing on the chair, drilled by a big cock, her painted feet high in the air, her pussy convulsing. That's the way she wants to milk you, get your seed, and with a final thrust (and final, very harsh pull on her hair) you start to cum inside her.

"So warm, Daddy, ah!"

Fuck the interview or Fuck: The Interview? you think as you see you either losing your job or having the most incredible career of anyone in this industry.

766 notes · View notes

earthytzipi · 12 days ago

Text

I actually loved the writing of caitvi this season for a few reasons:

1. I was very fortunate to meet and consistently date my lovely wife. Having observed other adult lesbians... that shit is MESSY. It's so so so so so common for lesbians to date, break up, date again, break up again, accuse each other of abuse or of being toxic, then date again, break up another time, date another person in the friend group, and so on and so forth. This season felt very honest to me in that way. If everything had been smooth sailing for Caitlyn and Vi, I don't think I would have bought it, especially with all the conflict they set up in s1. I agree that Caitlyn is toxic to Vi in Act 1. I just also don't think that's a deal-breaker for an adult relationship as long as amends are made, and I think that Cait's decision to let Vi release Jinx is a HUGE way that she made amends. I don't think she needed to grovel (nor would that have fit her character)- it demonstrated SO much character growth for her and so much trust in, and love for, Vi.

2. I've seen a lot of displeasure with Vi's writing this season, mostly centered around Vi's loss of agency and relative passivity. Everyone is entitled to their opinion, so, you know, grain of salt. It's just that, in my experience with trauma, you hit a breaking point where nothing matters to you anymore. You can't be resilient anymore. You've lost everything and you're grieving literally everything about the life you thought you had. (For the record, my trauma didn't even involve anyone dying, just abusive friendships, people cutting me off, and conversion therapy, and I *still* got there in my early 20s.) Vi shows a remarkable ability to push forward for Powder in s1, but by the first episode of s2, her resiliency is already breaking down. To me, it made complete sense that she showed more and more passivity and alcoholism as the season went on.

I think there's a misconception that trauma causes people to become strong. That is NOT what it does. It builds these insidious negative pathways of thought in your mind that wear you down over time. Eventually, it's too much. You can't take anything in stride. Everything becomes part of this pattern of hurt.

I think Jinx firing that missile was the breaking point for Vi. She lost her parents, she lost Vander, she lost her formative teenage years to prison, and the only reason she was still going at all was for Powder. That moment is the moment she decided Powder was gone, too. Imagine the grief of losing the last person you thought you had from your old life and not even being able to share that, because that person just killed a lot of people. In that light, the decision to join with the person who still cares about her and has been there for her makes sense, even though she hates the enforcers. I think that decision causes her a lot of pain and self-hatred which is reinforced when Cait leaves her, pushing her into the absolute pit of her trauma. Then all the events at the commune happen. Throughout the season she gains and loses hope about Jinx again and again, but when she's in that prison cell, from her point of view, she's just lost Jinx all over again after finally having her back for a while, and now Caitlyn, who she loves, for good.

In the end, when Cait says she engineered the whole thing to let Jinx escape? She gives Vi hope again in that moment. If Jinx isn't tried, she's still out there and Vi can still find her and try again. If Cait knew she would let Jinx escape and still be there for her, Cait still loves her more than she cares about revenge. Given how Cait almost killed a child to get to Jinx before, I think for Vi, this represents almost a complete 180 and demonstrates that Cait is sorry. I think their actions in that moment make perfect sense.

Anyways! To me, while I think s2 was definitely rushed as hell and had some other pacing issues, I loved the storyline for Cait and Vi.

#vi arcane #caitlyn kiramman #arcane #arcane spoilers #caitvi #lesbian #arcane analysis

81 notes · View notes

reds-skull · 1 year ago

Text

Thank youuu

I love them too, I'm thinking of having them as a big brother/little brother duo maybe?? Anyway here's them buying tea for the base like stereotypical Brits

Ok first time I read this my heart melted because it's so sweet :]

I keep thinking up aus for mw2, but they're all too complicated for a one-off comic, and I just finished a series so I'm not doing another one for the time being. But I had a superpower au for them, that I'm gonna explain under a read more because I know it's gonna be long lmao

But before that thank you for everyone again! I read all your lovely comments and they warm my heart <333

SO in this au, some people gain powers the first time they die. The powers are based on how they died (also when they die they meet these cool eldritch beings called reapers that have a little chat with them to decide if they're worthy of those powers).

Soap died from an explosion. Got blown out of a building. So his powers are explosion resistance and creation. His fingertips are always on fire because he's practically blowing the air around them all the time.

Gaz fell off a helicopter :( so now he can manipulate gravity, either objects around him or himself. He also floats a few inches off the ground most times.

Price was kinda hard for me to decide but I ended up making him die by abandonment. Now he can telepathically communicate with people.

And Ghost... he died in that coffin. Got pulled out by a reaper and received the powers to control limbo, the space between life and death. He's not authorized to use them unless he's alone, so he gets sent on solo missions only, until Price recruits him to the 141.

That is, until he pairs up with Ghost.

Before being recruited to the 141, Soap mainly defused bombs. Since, even if it's too late, he won't die. Thing is, Soap still gets hurt. His bones get crushed, his heart stops, his limbs get torn apart. He does heal, but the worse the injury, the longer it takes.

That made him kinda depressed. Because he felt like a glorified bomb robot. Except he's cheaper, since it doesn't cost the military any money when he fails to defuse on time.

Ghost isn't immune to bombs. He himself doesn't enter limbo, since that traps anything alive.

He and Soap go on a mission where intel suggests the enemy has rigged various explosives around the intel they need. They split up, Soap goes to defuse them and Ghost slowly makes his way through the facility.

And Ghost does help him. But he treats him like he would a regular, non-powered human. Stops when he's in too much pain, encourages him through it. Does his best to stop the bleeding.

Ghost completes his objective, but Soap gets spotted by an enemy and detonates the bomb he's working on to save himself.

Ghost find Soap after he fails to sitrep, impaled by a rebar. He whimpers and begs Ghost to help him off it, since he can't heal.

Because Ghost sees him as human. He watched as Soap kept trying to make jokes with him, but more importantly, how he treated him no differently from anyone else.

Soap, for his side, isn't used to that... gentleness. And that's how his interest in Ghost begins.

They exfil and return to base. A few months pass, and Ghost keeps an eye on one Soap MacTavish. Looks through his medical records, past missions. Finds out just how much he suffers through.

But Ghost isn't his commending officer, so he can't do anything. Until he's approached by his captain, John Price. He brings up the option of adding a new member to the taskforce. He gives Ghost the candidates he considered, Soap was brought up, Ghost stops him and states that he would agree to a new member if it was Soap.

Now if I had like, better writing abilities I would have absolutely written this as a fic. Butttt I don't and even if I did, I don't have confidence in them so I won't. But this idea is now out there and you can do whatever you want with it.

Also I got like a lot more sketches of this au but I only posted the ones I made for the ask.

#call of duty modern warfare 2 #cod mw2 #cod fanart #cod ghost #cod soap #cod gaz #asks answered #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #kyle gaz garrick #sorry this took a while uni really kicked me while I was down #it's getting better tho #also if more ppl wanna request you can always want i dont mind #revenant au #<new name

450 notes · View notes

cameronspecial · 1 year ago

Text

Let Me Take Care of You, Angel

Pairing: Frat!Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: Threatening to Get Someone Fired, Reader being sick

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 0.8K

Summary: Y/N can barely stand but it doesn't stop her from trying to go to class, so Rafe steps up and goes for her.

A/N: This is like a prequel to Let Me Handle It, Angel, but you can read it by itself or in any order.

Masterlist

Her nose shouldn’t be so stuffy with the amount of liquid dripping down from it right now. The tickle in the back of her throat that won’t go away no matter how many cough drops or tea she drinks is driving her crazy. To top it all off, she is constantly going between being hot and cold, which causes her to turn dizzy as she is taking Rafe’s sweater on and off. She blows her nose again to alleviate some of the build-up, but she still can’t breathe.

Meanwhile, Rafe is in the kitchen getting her lunch ready. He hopes his mom’s homemade chicken noodle soup has enough broth to counterbalance the too much salt he accidentally put in. The butter bread he lays on the tray is to give her a little more substance and he is about to pour her some freshly squeezed orange juice into her favourite mug. He goes to get the juice to find his frat brother, Topper, about to pour the last of the juice into his own cup. The death glare Rafe sends his best friend stops the other boy. Rafe grabs the glass jug from the boy and pours it into her mug. He brings the tray of food upstairs to find her trying to change into some leggings. She got dizzy trying to put them on standing up so now, she is rolling around his bedroom floor trying to yank her pants up her bloated lower body. Rafe sighs at the sight of her and places the tray on his desk.

“Stop, please. Let me take care of you, Angel. Please,” he begs, taking off the leggings and putting his sweatpants back on for her. She resists a little, not because she is uncomfortable with his help but because she wants the leggings on, “No, Rafe. I have to go to class. I need to put some clothes on.” He shakes her head at her begging. “No, angel. You can barely stand up, let alone go to class. Please, sit back down and eat something,” he orders, guiding her to sit up against his headboard so she can eat. She refuses, “I have class, Rafe. I need to go. This prof takes attendance for a mark.” “Well, then I’ll go for you. I’ll record the lecture and even take notes for you, angel. Just please, stay here and get some rest,” he offers, starting to get changed into some clothes to head to her class.

“Rafe, that would never work. The professor knows what I look like and that I’m a girl.”

“Don’t worry about it, my sweet angel. I’ll take care of it. Now, I expect to see all of that food gone by the time I get back, understand?”

——

Rafe sits at the back of the lecture hall with different coloured pens and a pencil before him. He writes the date in her notebook as neatly as possible then switches to a blue pen for the title. One lazy afternoon together, when they first got together, she was studying while he just watched her. He asked her why she liked handwritten notes and why she used different colours. She explained that the handwritten notes are better for her to transcribe when she studies and the different pens help her visualize the notes better. So he is going to try his best to copy her notes how she likes it.

The clock hits 2 P.M. and Professor Simmons begins the attendance. “Y/N Y/L/N,” he calls out, looking around the front rows for her familiar face. Rafe’s hand darts up, “Present.” The masculine voice causes Professor Simmons to look up from his computer. “You aren’t Ms. Y/L/N,” he questions with an arch brow.

“No, I am not. But she is currently sick at the moment so I’m filling in. So you can just mark her as here.”

“I don’t know who you are, but this isn’t how this works.”

“Well, allow me to introduce myself. I’m Rafe Cameron. Y/N’s loving boyfriend, but also a Cameron. The same Cameron, whose name is on the business building. One phone call and I can have you fired. Tenure or not. So do we have any problem with me being here for Y/N?”

Rafe holds his phone up about to dial his dad, who would do anything in a heartbeat for Y/N because he thinks she is good for Rafe. The auditorium goes silent as they wait for the professor to answer. Professor Simmons shakes his head and continues on with the list.

——

The door opening makes Y/N look towards it. Her boyfriend stands at the entrance with a grin on his face and ice cream in his hand. “How did it go?” she barely gets out between coughs, reaching for the pint of ice cream she knows she shouldn’t be eating. Rafe wraps his arm around her and places a kiss on her temple, “Without a problem. How are you feeling, angel?” “That’s good. Thank you for going. And a little better. I haven’t puked since you left,” she tells him, eating another bite of ice cream. He smiles at that fact, “I would do anything for you. I’m so glad you are better. I love you, angel.”

“I love you too, Rafe.”

621 notes · View notes

buddierecs · 4 months ago

Text

omegaverse buddie fics

all mature rating!!! make sure to kudos/comment on these amazing works :)

a place we both know by: not1_2write "this whole thing is bobby's fault. he's the one that suggested eddie apply for the mate matching service, it was his idea to look for an omega that would love and care for christopher, to find a mate to be by eddie's side. eddie's gonna have to send him a fruit basket or something. it was the greatest idea bobby's ever had and because of it they now they have buck in their lives, in their pack and firmly nestled right in Eddie's heart." word count: 42k important tags: found family, non-traditional dynamics, pack family, alpha!eddie diaz, omega!evan buckley, protective!buddie just for this moment by: suyari “take your time,” carla said sternly. “don’t rush this because you’re worried, buck, do you hear me? any change in your scent could just set him off.” “yes, thank you, i know how to deal with alphas,” he drawled. “yes, but eddie’s not just another alpha and i think it’s time we acknowledged that.” word count: 10k important tags: alpha!eddie diaz, omega!evan buckley, bonding marks, heat/rut, idiots in love, knotting, painful orgasm. what he needs by: 7ate9 "post-lawsuit, post-grocery store, buck is feeling especially alone. on a walk, he gets attacked by an alpha in rut. after escaping, he runs to the one place he knows he’ll be safe." word count: 44k important tags: alpha!eddie diaz, omega!evan buckley, werewolf au, hurt!eddie diaz, TW: attempted rape/non-con, nesting, eventual smut you help me find my fire by: buddiesmutslut "buck has hid his omega designation from everyone, including his alpha best friend, eddie diaz. what will happen when eddie shows up, unannounced, to complain about his girlfriend, and finds out the truth?" word count: 11k important tags: alpha!eddie diaz, omega!evan buckley, pre-relationship, getting together, mating nites, ana flores bashing when did you court me? by: unhingedoveractivemuse "eddie would like to state for the record that he did try to court buck, but the omega showed no interest. so why, after thinking that buck just wasn't into male alphas, does buck choose tommy kinard?" word count: 2.9k important tags: alpha!eddie diaz, omega!evan buckley, jealous!eddie diaz, first kiss, implied sexual content kill my mind by: alaskan_outsider "the first time you smell your soulmate’s scent, you start hearing their thoughts." word count: 8.2k important tags: alpha!eddie diaz, omega!evan buckley, soulmates au, mind reading, romantic fluff, family fluff there were more beds guys by: inuhime "exhaustion sometimes leads to interesting situations, the team is too tired for these antics tonight. but at least sometimes it leads to good things." word count: 4.4k important tags: alpha!eddie diaz, omega!evan buckley, sharing a bed, idiots in love, getting together of heats and firefighters by: liron "eddie and christopher are away for a wedding, and buck can finally go through his mandatory heat. things aren't going as planned." word count: 2.8k important tags: alpha!eddie diaz, omega!evan buckley, mating cycles, worried!eddie diaz, established relationship, emotional hurt/comfort it takes two to make one by: goforeddie "omegaverse mpreg buck fic" word count: 3.8k important tags: alpha!eddie diaz, omega!evan buckley, mpreg, domestic fluff, knotting

#i will be doing the other ratings for this tomorrow #literally falling asleep while doing this oops #buck x eddie fic #buddie fic #buck x eddie #eddie diaz #buddie fics #evan buckley #buddie fic rec #911 abc #911 show #911 fandom #buddie 911 #buddie fanfic #buddie recommendations #buddie recs #buck x eddie fanfics

134 notes · View notes

jaejoongs-nipple-piercing · 6 months ago

Text

And as of 7am this morning I’ve been fired and still was not given a reason. I tried to talk about all the things I did to make sure I was being safe and following the rules but something happened and they don’t like me because I wasn’t progressing fast enough for them.

So my fear of being 30 and jobless has now unfortunately come true.

May 1, 2024: laid off due to lack of work

July 9, 2024: suspended with no explanation, said they need to investigate.

I haven’t done anything wrong. I do what they tell me and how they tell me to do it. I know I’m a bit slower but I’m better than I was. This job is more and more like Scenic and now I’m ‘most likely’ 30 and jobless.

#hate it #I hate my life #whoever pulled these cards for me I DEMAND for them to be redealt #this is ridiculous #she’s lucky I was even up at 6am #first I heard an explosion up the road at around 3:30am #then I get called at 6 to find out I’m now unemployed #again #both times interrupting my first-time experience watching TharnType #like I really wanted to answer the phone while Tharn and Type are in rhe shower together #🤬#😭😭#I want a ton of money and a giant cuddly hug #and I’m not going to get either because I just won’t #and the supervisor told another employee I was still out sick and that’s a bull crap lie #and once again my mom and brother think it’s my fault that I lost this job #but it isn’t #I swear #now I need to find out how to take these firings OFF my record because nobody is going to hire me with 3 wrongful terminations on my name #🖕🖕🖕🖕

1 note · View note

meowmeowriley · 11 months ago

Text

@forestshadow-wolf Had asked about Duo Fatui, and you know what? Fuck it! Have what will eventually be the opening to the fic ❤

Ghost and Soap are placed on desk duty for a year after an op gone sideways. They decide to make the best of it.

"Are you fucking kidding me?!" Captain price roared as he stormed into the med bay.

Soap and Ghost were both laid up in separate cots, on either side of the room. Both now stared at him, wide eyed after his outburst.

"Sir," Ghost started but Price was not going to hear him out.

"No! Soap, what the hell were you thinking?!"

"Sir," Soap attempted to speak but Price cut him off as well.

"What the fuck were you thinking, giving a civilian your plate carrier?" Price seethed.

"Sir, he had important intel, we couldn't afford to lose him, and our route to exfil was taking heavy fire." Soap spit out his words quickly, probably to avoid being cut off again.

"Exactly sergeant, heavy fire that you took! You were shot, and you're a hell of a lot more important than some random scientist!" Price could feel his face getting red as he yelled. "And you!" He turned to face Ghost. "Now you're out of commission, because of his bloody fuck up!" He gestured sharply at a pouting Soap.

"We're the same blood type, I wasn't about to lose him over something I could easily help with, Captain." Ghost said flatly. To anyone else it would seem like Ghost was calm, detached even. Price could tell he was holding back his own anger.

Price found himself pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. He wasn't actually angry at them. Soap had saved a man with insanely useful information. Ghost had saved Soap. He was angry that he hadn't been there to protect them himself. He was angry that he almost lost two of the best soldiers there ever were. Two of his men. He was angry that now they were both one kidney lighter. The transplant wouldn't take too long to heal, but the risk of rejection or infection meant he could still lose them. "One year." That garnered confused looks from both men.

"Um, no boss, the surgeon said-" Price cut Ghot off again, further souring the man's mood for sure.

"That the risk of rejection and infection will be significantly reduced after six months. I am placing you both on desk duty for one year, starting the day you get discharged from med bay." A horrified silence filled the room. "I hope you boys can find a way to keep yourselves entertained while Gaz, Roach and I pick up your slack." It may have ben a bit harsh, but he needed them to understand how important their lives were. To the world, to the team. To him. With that, he left the room.

***

"Ah'm sorry, Ghost."

"Shut it, Johnny."

"Ah am though."

"No." Ghost opened his eyes and leaned forward, looking at his hands. After Price had stormed in, ripped them a new one, and stormed out, he had leaned back in his bed and closed his eyes in an attempt to dissuade the rising rage. "If we're sorry, Price wins. That crabbit old man can kiss my arse. We did the right things."

"Hmmm... I have an idea." Ghost finally looked over to Soap again, urging him to continue with his eyes. "We're gonna be stuck on base for a whole year, aye?"

"Aye..." Ghost was unsure where this was going.

"We should do something unhinged, something incredibly stupid and pointless, every day. We'll have some random recruit record it, someone different every day if we can. At the end of the year, we'll play it on a projector in the mess for the whole base to watch." Soap was grinning at him. "Show Price what happens when you bench two of the craziest son's o' bitches in the SAS.'

It felt like a bad idea. Like making a deal with the devil. Like it would at least make the year of bullshit ahead of them go by faster. "I'm listening..."

#cod mw2 #ghostsoap #soapghost #ghoap #fanfic #ao3 #text post #call of duty #unus annus #current wip

152 notes · View notes

gx-gameon · 10 months ago

Text

Every few years Yugioh comes back and takes over my life.

And as I rewatch the anime I can’t stop thinking about a world where Jaden was raised by Yugi.

I don’t know if you all remember but a few years back there was a creator on here and they had an au were the Gx gang were raised by the Duel monster gang. But they are gone now and I can’t find their stuff😢 but it’s okay. I’ve got my own ideas on this!

Instead of having the whole Gx gang raised by the DM gang we are just going to focus on Jaden.

When Jaden is four all the drama with Yubel happens. His parents aren’t around very often, and Yubel is being Yubel. She sees Jaden fighting and losing duels so she lashes out at the other duelest because in the dark world if Jaden lost that duel he’d be dead. She’s just protecting him. He designs the Neo-spacians and they get sent into space, and his parents make the request for Yubel to be sent up as well (I know in the show it was Jaden but we’re going to say it was his parents idea first)

Jaden is now having horrible nightmares about Yubel and his shadow magic is lashing out. He’s four. He has so much power and no idea how to control it. So his parents, afraid of their child take him to get ‘help.’ Whatever it is that they do it blocks out Jaden’s powers and his memories. He can’t remember Yubel, he can’t see spirits. But it’s to late. He’s already branded a social pariah and his parents are scared of him and he doesn’t know why. His parents just can’t take it anymore and drop the kid off at a fire station (don’t know if this is a thing in Japan but in some states you can drop a kid off at any age at and just leave) or maybe they just die. Either way they are gone and he’s in an orphanage. Alone, scared, no spirits, parents, or friends.

Here is where Yugi comes in.

Our boy just graduated. DSOD just happened. (Jaden’s cards going to space were Kaiba testing things for his satellite thingy) Kaiba is AWOL. But Yugi doesn’t know why…yet.

Maybe he’s in town for a tournament, or college, but for some reason he’s in town, and what he does find is this kid dueling by himself in a park. No one will go near him and he looks so lonely. And Yugi knows that feeling. So he goes over and plays with the kid. Jaden is ecstatic, the king of games wants to duel him! Best day ever.

Over time the two keep running into each other until Yugi learns about the kids situation. No family, no friends, he’s alone in the world. And Yugi, he just can’t stand that. Yes Jaden is a little loud and over excited but he’s a great kid and Yugi can’t even comprehend why his parents would abandon him. So he makes the decision to go and adopt this kid.

But the adoption’s weird. He expected a lot of questions. He’s 18 after all, and while he’s got his grandpa’s support, he’s still 18 years old trying to adopt a 4 year old. But the orphanage basically throws the kid at him happy to be rid of the problem. (Everyone in that part of town knows what used to happen when Jaden dueled.) and Yugi is perplexed. He’s not mad, it’s the outcome he wanted, but why is everyone so scared of the kid?

He tries to find out but there are no records of Jaden. Who his parents are, or what happened. (Rich people have the ability to get certain records closed) so he goes to the one person he can think of who might be able to find those records, Kaiba. But when he gets there Mokuba is barely keeping it together. Yugi asked where Seto is and the kid just breaks down, telling him all about Seto’s trip to the afterlife to duel Atem and Yugi is floored. Why would he be so stupid. Mokuba begs Yugi to go after his brother. But Yugi hesitates, he’s got Jaden to worry about now.

“Who’s Jaden?” And it’s in this moment that Yugi realizes he was so wrapped up in adopting Jaden, getting him home, and trying to figure out why that whole town was scared of a 4 year old, that he didn’t tell anyone about Jaden! So he quickly explains to Mokuba who Jaden is and what is happening and why he needs Seto’s help.

Mokuba didn’t think he could like Yugi anymore then he already did, after all Yugi has helped him and Seto a lot, but now! After learning he saved a kid for an orphanage and an awful upbringing like he and Seto had, he adores this man. (Now if Seto would just get his head out of his butt and realize that Yugi isn’t just his rival but also a perfect match. He’s the biggest rivalshipper) but he needs Yugi to go after Seto, after all who else can?

So Yugi calls Joey to watch Jaden. And Joey is experiencing so many different emotions, having so many breakdowns. What do you mean you got a Kid Yug? What do you mean Kaiba went to the Afterlife to duel Atem? What do you mean you’re going after him? Why? I’m so confused!!

But he instantly loves Jaden. They both love dueling, they both have empty heads. Uncle Joey is in the house! He offers to go after Kaiba for Yugi, Jaden can’t lose him, but Yugi insist he go. He wants to see Atem, but he also knows he has a better chance than Joey at coming back.

So after Kaiba Yugi goes. Jaden’s safe with Joey and Mokuba.

And if this isn’t in the top 5 weirdest thing Yugi’s ever done, which is saying something.

He meets up with Kaiba and Atem. And Atem has spent the last month yelling at Kaiba for coming here because the man didn’t plan on how to get back. And here comes Yugi, Atem sees him and starts to lose it because, either Yugi is dead or he followed Kaiba here and he doesn’t know which is worse. Until Yugi starts yelling at Kaiba as well. Because “I had to leave my son to come get you!” And hold up now Atem and Kaiba are Floored because “son?”

Atem’s wondering if it’s been way longer than he thought and Yugi and Kaiba have just aged well, or did he miss something THAT big when he was with his aibou.

So Yugi has to explain who Jaden is. (Kaiba’s in love but he doesn’t realize it) and Atem is so proud.

Yugi drags Seto back down to earth but not before some adventures in the afterlife. That may end with Atem coming back down with them by accident. (A gift from the gods, Atem didn’t plan or ask for it, but he will forever be grateful for this second chance at life) Uncle Atem gets to meet his nephew and he’s pumped.

Jaden grows up so loved. Learning from the best. Seto finds out about Jaden’s past and Atem works with the kid on unlocking his powers once again while Kaiba tries to retrieve Jaden’s cards from space. (They are his soul cards, he’s suppose to have them, just as Kaiba is suppose to have Blue-eyes, or Atem the Dark Magician. And Seto just sent them to space!! Yugi was not happy when he found out, he doesn’t blame Seto, but he’s not happy)

Jaden grows up going to all of his dad’s tournaments. They give the kid a baseball hat and sunglasses so no one knows what the ‘prince of duels’ looks like.

Eventually Yugi and Seto get their crap together and start dating/get married. Seto is the most over protective Oto-san ever. Only rivaled by uncle Atem.

When Jaden is fourteen he’s ready to go to duel school. He enrolls are Jaden Yuki. His transcript does not mention his parents, as Jaden doesn’t want any special privileges at the school.

Yugi gives his son winged kuriboh on his way to his entrance test. The whole gang is there in a private sweet to watch the entrance exams and see Jaden’s duel against Dr. Crowler.

Seto is furious at his staffs behavior but Yugi and Atem are more focused on Jaden finally being able to see spirits again. They’re so excited. Seto less so, he’s happy for his son but he’s so focused on his employee bullying a child, his child. (Lets just say Crowler owes keeping his job to Jaden, he will have no clue of this until after Jaden graduates)

Gx is so much funnier because Kaiba is hearing about all the crazy things his staff is doing and he’s ready to fire everyone, but his son keeps saying he likes them, the school, the adventure. Jaden so desperately doesn’t want any of his classmates to know who his parents are, not wanting to be treated differently. So Seto can’t fire them, yet. But once Jaden graduates he is overhauling this school.

Yugi is at a cross between laughing at Atem and Seto being over protective and also losing his mind because who stored the dark lords at this school! “Seto, did you know about this?” (Seto’s never been more scared of his husband)

Season one is uninterrupted. But season 2 is close. Even Yugi wants to step in when the evil cult comes to light. But it’s season 3 that makes the family lose their minds.

#yugioh #yugi mutou #yugi moto #yami yugi #yugioh gx #pharaoh atem #atem #jaden yuki #judai yuki #joey wheeler #mokuba kaiba #seto kaiba #rivalshipping #future spiritshipping alert #dad Yugi #I have such a soft spot for the idea of Yugi raising Jaden.

96 notes · View notes