#scot mccall

[femmehysteria]

I'm doing a series of "Best Character Named X" polls where all the characters have the same first name but are from completely different media, feel free to send in name/charcacter suggestions, I'm posting one poll a day, check my pinned post for active polls

[imissthembutitwasntadisaster]

"I don't know why I'm the one who keeps finding the bodies but maybe if I stop trying to fight it I'll find them before it happens...maybe with enough time...or someone like you...to do something about it" "you get me the time and I'll do something about it"

[outcastpack]

[mlmfantasywrites]

Rules:

- I only write for male reader, and I only write for male character’s

- I write for most kinks and I do angst, smut, and fluff.

- I’m not really into Dom reader and I’m better at writing bttm sub reader and Dom top character so keep that in mind.

Some of the character’s I write for include:

Luke Castellan (PJO)

Scot McCall (teen wolf)

Zed Necrodopolis (zombies)

Wally Clark (school spirits)

Milo manheim

Nate Jacob’s (euphoria)

Jacob Cutos (the quarry)

Vinnie hacker

Noah Beck

Jacob Day

Charlie Bushnell

John B (outer banks)

Rare Cameron (outer banks)

JJ Maybank (outer banks)

Trevor Wagner

Joe Bartolozzi

Finn Hudson (glee)

Blaine Anderson (glee)

Sam Evans (glee)

Billy Loomis (scream)

Ethan Landry (scream)

Chad Meeks (scream)

Finnick Odair (hunger games)

Peeta Melark (hunger games)

Bellamy Blake (the 100)

Sean Anderson (journey 2 the mysterious island)

And any more! Feel free to ask if you don’t see someone listed.

[training4theapocalypse]

a fine wee lass, a bonnie wee lass ch.1

John ‘Soap’ MacTavish x Fem Reader

Rating: Explicit - 18+ only

Word Count: 2k

Warnings / Tags: Smut, infidelity, size difference, references to previous underage romance (when they were both teens).

Summary: You're the bridesmaid at your brother’s wedding and his best man, John MacTavish is back in town. You just hope he doesn't remember when you last saw him, when you tried with all your might to stop him from joining the army.

A/N: I've not played COD since like 2012 but I keep seeing clips of Soap on TikTok and my wee Scottish heart just fancies the pants off him. This is inspired by a Scottish folk song called 'Bonnie Wee Jeannie McCall'. The dialogue is written in Scots - I hope you can follow along.

ALSO I just found out about @glitterypirateduck’s challenge by a happy accident the day after I wrote this and this fits nicely into:

Prompt 28: They don't need to know

Masterlist (there’s no other COD stuff here sorry)

Chapter 1: The first night I met her she was awfy, awfy shy

You pull your shawl around you as you stand outside the old castle. Rain lashes down across the sprawling Falkirk countryside while revellers laugh from the wedding inside. The music hasn’t started yet - you think that you’re safe to have a breather before you need to go inside for the first dance. 

You stand as close to the wall as you can, taking cover from the rain. Your pink satin shoes are getting soaked. Not that it matters. The shoes your brother’s new wife chose for her bridesmaids are so ugly it’s unlikely you’d have worn them again anyway. But she’ll be fuming when she sees the state of them.

The door to the castle opens behind you and you move over, dodging a puddle to let the newcomer seek the shelter of the castle wall too.

“Awryt, darlin?” asks a voice and you look up from the puddle at your feet to see John MacTavish, your brother’s best man, pulling out a packet of cigarettes from his jacket pocket. “I didnae think you smoked.”

“I don’t,” you say, putting your vape to your lips and raising your eyebrows once.

He pulls a sour face. “Them? They’re fulla chemicals and like, mercury, and that.”

“Oh aye? What’s in these? Vitamins?” you ask, flicking the pack of cigarettes in his hand with a forefinger. “You didnae smoke afore joinin’ the army.”

“Aye, well, I was sixteen when you last saw me. And you were, whit, twelve?”

“Fifteen, John.”

There’s only a year between you and your big brother, Tam. But the way he and John treated you, you’d have thought there was a decade between you. Acting like you were an annoying wee tag-along. You just wanted to be included from time to time.

But that was ten years ago. Last time you saw John, he was just a boy, and you, just a lass. But now he’s older, with a scar on his chin that’s only highlighted by his coarse, dark stubble. The scar cuts across the hair there like white lightning. He’s taller, and broader than when you last saw him and his hair is shaved much shorter and neater than the teenage John you remember.

“Aw, aye. I mind now. You and your pals had wangled your way intae the sixth-year leavers’ gaff. As usual.”

“Did I? Any excuse for a drink back then, I s’pose.”

“Aye, but I remember ‘cause I wis leavin’ in a few days for the army. And you were -” He cuts himself off suddenly.

“I was whit?” a smile cracks across your face, waiting to hear his description of how you looked that night. Beautiful? Stunning? Mesmerising? You see yourself as you had been - your hair perfectly straightened, your Oh Polly bandage dress hugging your form in all the right places. In your memory, you were the embodiment of a siren. You had dolled up that night to impress the older boys. Or, if you were honest, one particular older boy.

“Well, I mean,” he says putting a cigarette between his lips and flicking his lighter. The orange glow briefly illuminates his face, casting shadows that seem to momentarily harden his features, making you remember he’s no longer a boy of sixteen but a man of twenty-six. “You were absolutely gantin’ for it.”

Your mouth falls open and you hit his arm. 

Mortifying. 

“Whit? Fae you? Aye, right !” you say, sarcastically but your face flushes bright red, immediately giving you away. You might have been drunk but John MacTavish rejecting your drunken advances as a teenager was probably the defining moment of your formative years. 

As your words, brushing off his teasing, hang in the air, the jolt of embarrassment reminds you of a different party.

On that fateful night, ten years ago, the music was much louder. The floor was littered with empty cans and bottles and you’d ‘accidentally on purpose’ bumped into John in the hallway before pulling him into someone’s parents’ bedroom. You’d recklessly thrown your arms around him.

“Woah, woah, woah. What you daen?” he’d whispered in a panic.

“Please, Johnny,” you’d slurred drunkenly. “I dunno when I’ll see you again. Somethin’ tae remember me by.”

You had leaned in to kiss him but he turned his head. You were so drunk you didn’t care. You sucked on his neck, feeling that dark stubble under your sloppy tongue as your hand found his cock in his jeans.

But he’d stopped you in your tracks. Pinned your arms to the side. He was stronger than you, even as a teenager.

“Naw, look, I cannae,” he had said. And even though your eyes could barely focus on his, you could tell he was annoyed at you. But you didn’t care. You just wanted him so badly. 

“Aw, come on, John. Please? I’ll show you my tits,” you had said. “I’ll - I’ll go the full way. I’ll do anythin’. Just - just don’t leave, awryt?”

The sound of cheers from the reception hall cuts through your memory and snaps you back to your current, rainy surroundings.

“Aye, well, I was probably just dreamin’,” says present-day John. “It probably never happened.” 

It’s considerate of him, to pretend that it never happened.

But no matter how hard you try to pretend, there’s no denying that you made a fool of yourself, plain and simple. 

Sometimes late at night when you can’t sleep, the memory makes you cringe as you replay that embarrassing moment. You try and cut yourself some slack, remind yourself that you were just a desperate, heartbroken teenager who’d drunk half a bottle of vodka working up the courage to make the move she’d always thought about. Begging John not to join the army. Begging John to fuck her. 

He had declined both requests.

But that doesn’t matter because you’re a fully grown woman now. One that hasn’t spent more than a second thinking about John MacTavish coming home for her brother’s wedding. No, sir. Not one second. Definitely not.

You exhale a laugh like it’s a funny memory. “Maybe it did happen. I cannae really remember, I must have been steamin’ drunk,” you say. But you know what happened. He knows what happened. And he knows you know. 

John's response comes with a delay, his chuckle soft and tinged with a hint of meaningful self-deprecation, to try and frame some of the embarrassment back onto himself. “You must’ve been steamin' to have tried it on wae the likes of me. You were always far too good for me,” he laughs, but this time his smile doesn’t quite reach those bright blue eyes. 

There’s a long silence as you say nothing. With a deliberate motion, you bring the vape to your lips, inhaling deeply, the action grounding you back to the here and now as the artificial kiwi-passionfruit-guava fills your lungs with something that you know must be bad for them. As you exhale, your gaze drifts down to your soaked shoes, the pink satin darkened by the rain. They’ve changed beyond recognition.

“Woah,” he coughs his own puff of smoke. “Now just whit is that ?” asks John, his eyes clocking your left hand.

You tilt your hand subtly, letting the diamond catch the cloudy daylight. “Did Tam no mention it?” The words linger between you, almost casual. “I’m engaged, John.”

For a moment, John just stares at your hand, his face unreadable. Then, a low whistle escapes him, a mix of surprise and something unspoken. He glances up at you, his eyes searching yours for the answer to a question that he doesn’t voice. “Engaged, eh? Tam never said a word.” His gaze shifts away, a frown creasing his forehead. “Where’s the lucky man the night?”

“He’s offshore the now - he works on the rigs.”

“Christ, I’ll say,” says John, taking your hand and examining your ring. “He’d need tae be workin’ in oil for a big rock like this wan.”

Your hand feels small in his. His thick brows soften from a frown when he pulls his gaze up from your engagement ring to meet your eyes. His eyes are blue and full of a warmth that you wouldn’t expect from someone who, from Tam’s account, is a hardened soldier. 

Your heart thuds in your chest when you realise that he’s been holding your hand for too long. But you don’t retract it.

“Aww the best tae the happy couple, then,” he says softly. “I suppose Tam never telt me ‘cause he had a lot to be dealing wae his own wedding and that.” John lets go of your hand. “Dae you no miss your fella, wae him being offshore?”

“Four weeks on, two weeks off. I see him plenty… More than your missus sees you, I expect. How often d’you come home? Once or twice a year?”

“I’ve no got a missus so I don’t need tae worry about that.”

The raucous laughter from inside the wedding venue dies down suddenly. And you hear the master of ceremonies announcing the entrance of the bride and groom.

“Gads,” says John, stubbing out his half-finished cigarette. 

“If we miss the first dance, we’re fucked,” you say. “I’ll never hear the fuckin’ end of it.”

You try to carefully step over the puddle - John takes your arm and holds on to you so you don’t fall. He opens the oak door for you but as you’re about to pass, he grips you tighter, stopping your movement. 

“Listen, darlin’, there are some things that are just off-limits,” he says, his voice a low, gravelly whisper in your ear as he leans close. He smells like cigarettes - normally that smell would turn your stomach but there’s something sweet in his aftershave, like vanilla, that makes the tobacco smell musky and warm. 

“Meanin’?” You look up at him, confused.

“The last time I saw you,” he murmurs. “You were mad wae it. I couldnae, in good conscience, take you up on that offer when you were that drunk. And you’re my best pal’s wee sister tae boot. I couldnae dae that tae Tam.”

“John, that was - that was a long time ago. It was nothin’.”

“And now,” he continues. “Now you’re engaged. Which means you’re even more off-limits.”

Off-limits?  

He’s talking like you’re in that bedroom again, begging for his attention. Except you’re not. You’re not begging for John again. He’s just assuming that you’re about to.

That presumptuous bastard. 

“You’ve got some fuckin’ nerve, John MacTavish. Who are you tae try and let me down gently? It’s been ten years and I’m no even slightly interested in you anymore.”

“Naw, I know,” he says, refusing to match your volume or tone of indignation. “I’m just tellin’ you out loud why I won’t be trying it on with the most beautiful lassie in the room. And why I said no back then, as well.”

“Haul! You two!” You and John spring apart to see your tiny, furious wee auntie storming down the hallway. “You’re missing your brother’s first dance with his new wife and you’re both supposed to be on the dancefloor.” 

“We - we are?” you stammer.

“Aye, did you no hear the emcee telling the wedding party to join the bride and groom? That means bridesmaids and groomsmen, ya pair of glaikit idiots. Your maw’s fuckin’ ragin’”

And with that, John lets the door behind you swing shut and you both leg it past your auntie to the reception room, with you leaving wet footprints in your wake as you go. The music from the room swells into clarity as you burst through the doors and skid inelegantly onto the dancefloor. 

Your brother and his wife are too absorbed in their own happiness to have noticed your late entry and you breathe a sigh of relief. But it’s short-lived. You immediately stiffen again when John takes your waist and you realise that he’s your dance partner.

As the two of you begin swaying to the music, your mind races. You’re no longer that sad, rejected teenager, yet here, in John's reassuring grasp, you feel the ghost of her stirring. His gaze is careful, and guarded, but there's still that question in his eyes that he’s forbidden to ask.

And behind your own eyes, you can’t help the stream of curses going off inside your head. 

You curse your nerves for being the reason you got so drunk at that party. 

You curse John for being Tam’s best man.

But most of all, you curse yourself as you watch your left hand rest on John’s shoulder as you dance, the giant diamond ring glittering like a heavy disco ball. 

[evilartist37]

Blorbovember Masterlist

Prompt 1 - Nostalgic: Jack Frost

Prompt 2 - Newest: Tiabeanie

Prompt 3 - Kin: Fishlegs Ingerman

Prompt 4 - Crush: Hiccup Haddock

Prompt 5 - Dead: Viggo Grimborn

Prompt 6 - Memory: Crowley

Prompt 7 - Fashion: Mary Queen of Scots

Prompt 8 - Symbolism: Thor

Prompt 9 - Angst: Stiles

Prompt 10 - Quote: Lydia Martin

Prompt 11 - Pathetic: Sam Winchester

Prompt 12 - Thrive: Nimona

Prompt 13 - Floral: Thranduil

Prompt 14 - Song: Loki

Prompt 15 - Transformation: Scott McCall

[scotianostra]

The Actor Phil McCall was born on November 26, 1925 in Glasgow.

A nostalgic one for us Scots, McCall had many parts in Film, Television and radio. After some experience on the amateur stage, he entered the Royal Scottish Academy of Music and Drama where he completed the drama course with distinction. Being a more mature student, he had no illusions about the profession he was entering, but a thirst for knowledge, a love for theatre, and for the arts continued throughout his life.

He was an avid reader of plays and literature which, allied to his understanding of the lives of ordinary working people, made him a powerful interpreter of many aspects of the human condition.

His successes ranged from pathos and grit in plays ancient and modern to hilarious dames in pantomime. For many thousands of people he will be remembered for his performances at Perth, Dundee, Glasgow Citizens, and the Pavilion, the Royal Lyceum, Edinburgh, and the Traverse Theatre, Edinburgh, Eden Court, Inverness, His Majesty's Aberdeen, and Motherwell Civic Theatre with resident companies or visiting with the Scottish Theatre Company.

His TV roles stretch from the early days in Z Cars, The Gorbals Boy, Minder and Monarch of the Glen. If his film appearances were less numerous, a few were jewels, even in cameo. It was a source of annoyance more than pleasure that, to non-theatregoers, he was best known for a television advertisement.

For some actors there is one stand out part you are remembered for, Phil McCall's might not have been on have won him any Baftas or Oscars but it is one of the most remembered for us Scots, Phil came outwith the immortal lines..."Pea and ham soup from a chicken, now that's clever".

It's a tragicly sad end to this post, Phil McCalls wife found him hanged at their home in Glasgow on 29 January 2002. He was due on stage that night at Glasgow’s Briggait Theatre on the opening night of the Grid Iron Theatre Production Fermentation, one of the most-anticipated Scottish stage plays in years.

It is believed he had suffered bouts of depression in his past, and aged at 76 it shows you that depression can affect you at any age, to live a full life like he did and take his own life is a lesson we should all take heed of, depression is a real illness, I my self suffer regularly, at 58 I have accepted it will not leave me, I survive day by day, doing these posts is a therapy for me.

[prctectrice]

STILES WAS RIGHT but don't tell him she thought that. He'd never let her live it down. Being alive again was weird and even though Melissa both knew and let her spend the night with Scott, Allison could tell she still had questions. Who wouldn't? It wasn't every day your son's dead ex, now girlfriend, spent the night every other night. It seemed to be going well until she woke up in a cold sweat, hand gripping the blade she had put on the night stand just in case... worried about whatever it was that had attacked Stiles potentially attacking the McCall house too, even if subconsciously. "Scott..."

@scotted

[ksbbb]

Comfort character tag game

rules: list your top 5 comfort characters and include a gif of each!

Tagged by @maplefire18

Teen wolf

Scot McCall

Shadow and Bone

Jesper

Teen wolf

Theo raeken

Supernatural

Cas

Wwdits

Bonus cause I can’t decide

New girl

Jess

Tagging @disasterpenguin @chasing-chimeras @wolfboy88 @outcastpack @sydney-winchester @thiamsxbitch

[whittemxres]

ft. @scotted

the setting, a grocery store, the time, around 1am. there he was. the saviour of beacon hills. scott mccall. "your mom forget to get you your juice?" jackson quipped, a smirk toying at the corners of his lips.

[ofthxrns]

closed starter ft. @scotted

during his time with malia, she had often mentioned scott mccall and truth be told, lucas had hoped that sooner rather than later he'd meet him. the young wolf hoped that this would be the turning point in his journey. more than anything, he needed someone like him to show him how to live with what he'd become. it seemed that he would be the one to do so. entering beacon hills animal clinic, lucas padded his way up to the front desk. "excuse me.. sorry to bother you. i uh- i'm looking for scott mccall?"

[starfxkrinc]

https://www.tumblr.com/starfxkrinc/768263675292336128/httpswwwtumblrcomstarfxkrinc7682622038371205

dw i doubt we’ll get to john b bc imo he’s the most undeveloped and he’s the mc… i truly know nothing about that man expect he’s got daddy issues and he’s lowk kind a control freak bc he feels like a lot is out of his control 😭

fanon john b is more developed LMAOO

- sunflower (not) anon

fanon john b is so much...canon john b. i mean whatever its so crazy he got scot mccalled and jj got stilinskied

[bxmbshclls-a]

closed starter / ft. @scotted

it had taken a couple days for erica to come to terms with the fact that she was alive. what she hadn’t quite come to terms with however, was how OLD all of her school friends were. how long had she been dead for? but, even after all this time. she’d recognise scott mccall’s scent anywhere. since her return to the land of the living, erica had pretty much been keeping to herself. but, she figured it was about time she started to show her face again. the blonde sauntered toward her friend, a smirk toying on painted rouge lips. heels clacked against the wooden panelling, as she approached scott, who was perched upon a bar stool. arms wrapped around his shoulders from behind, her chin then propped atop one of her arms, close to scott's cheek. “hey, tween wolf. miss me?” the blonde gave a subtle smirk.

[katherines-imagines]

Teen Wolf

Stiles Stilinski

Lydia Martin

Scot McCall

[wolvesprotector]

-Stiles chuckled softly nodding his head scott was true it was more than enough but he definitely wanted more of the Alpha he wanted to see scott in full action and this was also so hot seeing scot mccall shirtless and naked he still couldnt believe it and he loved this he smiled trying to hold onto his moaning on what his best friend was doing his nipples sudden perked up from scotts pinch and soon would completely ripped off scotts shirt dropping the rest of it to the floor blushing madly at the view of scotts naked chest his strong abs and not to mention his six packs he licked his own lower lip and leaned himself more in his hand moved from his chest towards scotts bulge against his pants he replied to him sensually- " Yes but i require something else and something even more delicious "- he winked at the other and soon slided his tongue inside scotts mouth kissing him with pure bliss and passion -

Stiles sudden blush at them kissing that moment he always had thought someone as amazing as Scott would never returned the kiss but infact he had and that made his heart beat faster not to mention the fact on how close they were right now and he loved how that felt like he always felt like this about hi, before but he always was having hard time expressing his feelings to scott he always was so afraid to being rejected by him but once he saw scott speachless he couldnt help himself to sudden giggle he find him so adorable stiles moved himself and his body closer to the true alpha rubbing them together he leaned forward his hand to scotts shirt starting to unbotton scotts firsts bottons to tease him and his reaction- " Umm can you punch me ? i always dreamed about this moment with you but i keep waking up and feeling so sad that it wasnt real so punch me ?"

[katesharmasheart]

gif request meme ≡ teen wolf + most heartbreaking scene

“I'm in the arms of the first person I ever loved, the person I'll always love. I love you, Scott McCall.”