#can you guys tell I’ve been off my medication for a few days

[halfmoth-halfman]

the little things

Pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x Medic!Reader Synopsis: Five times Soap questions the relationship between Ghost and the 141's Medic, and the one time he gets an answer. Word Count: 2.9k Warnings: mentions of blood, mild swearing Disclaimer: I do not own modern warfare or any of the modern warfare characters.

part two. part three. part four.

The first time is purely by accident. 

It’s not like he’s trying to eavesdrop; it isn’t his fault the infirmary doors were left wide open, and it doesn’t seem like you and Ghost are trying to be quiet. Price called everyone for a meeting in twenty and, since the infirmary’s on the way, Soap figures he’d swing by and grab you. He’s walking towards the doors, paying attention to nothing in particular, when your unmistakable laugh echoes into the hallway. Soap stumbles slightly, caught off guard by the sudden noise. 

Someone’s enjoying themselves, he thinks. He’s almost six steps from the door when you laugh again, this time followed by the deep timbre of a familiar voice that makes Soap stop in his tracks.

Price was the one who had brought you onto the team, but it was supposedly Ghost who had recommended you. “Only medic I ever met who actually knew what they were doing,” he had said. Apparently the two of you had previously worked on multiple missions together, and that was made obvious by the way you two worked flawlessly around each other with an efficiency that could only have been cultivated through a deep trust and years of teamwork. 

Soap slowly approaches, all his stealth training coming to the forefront as he leans next to the door and focuses in on what you’re saying.

“It’ll only take a day, two tops. I promise.” Soap can hear the smile in your voice. Glancing at the glass panes of the doors, he can just make out your reflection. You’re standing beside an empty bed, behind an overbed table that’s covered in papers, leaning on your elbows to smile widely up at Ghost as he stands against the wall on the opposite side of the bed looking wholly unimpressed. 

“You want me to spend an entire day sitting in the corner and watching you give everyone on base flu shots?” 

“No, I’m asking if you’ll sit in the corner and look intimidating while I give everyone on base flu shots. The “look intimidating” part’s important,” you speak matter-of-factly. 

“I’ve seen you amputate a man’s leg at the knee mid-combat. You’re telling me you can’t handle a few shots by yourself?”

Soap makes a note to ask about that story later. 

“I can handle myself just fine, thank you. It’s everyone else that’s the problem here.” Ghost blinks at you, seemingly not believing you. “I get it, you’re all big, tough guys who face death every day-” Soap sinks his teeth into his cheek to fight back a laugh as you try to lower your voice in a very poor imitation of Ghost, “-but the way some of these guys act, you’d think I was coming at them with some kind of medieval torture device. I just think-” “That’d be a first.”

“-If I had someone that everyone respects, and is a little bit afraid of, sitting nearby then they’d stop with the whining and I can get my job done faster.” 

There’s a long pause as you and Ghost stand locked into a staring contest. Soap swears that, for a moment, something like amusement crosses Ghost’s eyes. 

“You think people are only a little afraid of me?” Ghost asks, tilting his head ever-so-slightly. You let out a loud, exaggerated scoff, throwing your hands up.

“Fine! Go lurk in a dark corner and scare children, or whatever it is you do, instead of helping me. Just don’t be surprised if I’m suddenly out of painkillers the next time you get shot.” You’re facing away from him, pouting like a child with your arms crossed over your chest. Both Soap and Ghost know you don’t mean it, your flawless reputation is too important to you, but Ghost sighs and nods anyways.

“Just tell me what days-” Ghost is barely done talking when you’re spinning around, nearly knocking the table over.

“Really?”

“Whatever will get you to stop being a brat.” Like water off a duck’s back, the insult runs right off of you as you clap your hands together. “Now, come on. Don’t want to be late to Price’s meeting.” Ghost pushes himself off the wall as you shuffle your scattered papers into organized piles to look through later. Soap leans back, taking a few quiet steps back from the door as you and Ghost start to leave the infirmary. 

“Hold on, one sec.” Soap pauses as he hears your hurried footsteps, looking back to your reflection in the glass. Eyes widening, his jaw drops as he watches Ghost let you grab his arm and push yourself up onto your toes to place a quick kiss to the cheekbone of the larger man’s plated skull mask. “Thank you,” you speak softly, taking a couple small steps back. 

Soap doesn’t have time to process as you and Ghost step out of the infirmary, immediately spotting him as he stands dumbly in the hallway. 

“Hey Soap! You heading to Price’s office, too?” Soap blinks, shaking off the shock and giving you a quick nod. 

“Yeah, I was just about to come get the two of you.”

“Let’s go, then,” Ghost says, turning and walking away without waiting for you or Soap. You fall in step behind him almost instantly, waving Soap over. Soap glances between the two of you as he follows. He knew the two of you weren’t strangers. He’d even speculated you might’ve been friends, but he’d never imagined you might’ve been something more. He wants to know more, but also gets the sneaking suspicion that this isn’t something he should be prying into. Ghost has always been a private man. 

Either way, he has no time to think on it further as the three of you enter Price’s office. 

-

The second time, he’s in far too much pain and far too tired to really remember if it actually happened. 

Despite everything, the mission had been a success, though the cost had almost been too much. Your team of seven has two unconscious, three severely injured, and the rest sporting a variety of bullet grazes and knife wounds. None dead, thanks to your quick thinking and efficient work. It’s late and the team’s holed up in an old safehouse overnight waiting for evac. Soap is sat up against the far wall, watching you with drooping eyes as you flit around the safehouse, tending to everyone’s wounds. He had been fortunate enough to only have a few minor wounds, but the adrenaline of the fight is fading fast and the comedown is hitting hard. 

Ghost is on watch and is the last person you check on, at his own insistence and much to your annoyance. He bats you away from any of the minor cuts and bruises, so you pull up a chair next to his and focus on the deep gash running across his right forearm. Through his sleep-hazed gaze, Soap watches you expertly stitch Ghost’s arm. He can hear the two of you mumbling to each other, but doesn’t have the energy to try and decipher your words. Once you’ve finished wrapping Ghost’s arm, you glance around at the others. 

You must assume everyone is asleep by the way you deflate, running a tired hand down your face and stretching your neck with a grimace. You scoot your chair closer to Ghost’s, shutting your eyes and letting your head fall against his armored shoulder. To Soap’s surprise and not to yours, Ghost makes no move to push you away, instead shifting so your head’s not at such an awkward angle and settling into his own chair. Soap can feel his curiosity creeping up, but sleep wins out in the end and he passes out not long after. 

When he wakes, Ghost is in the same spot, but you’re curled up in a beaten up arm chair across the room still asleep. 

When evac finally arrives, everyone is awake, and you and Ghost hardly acknowledge each other as he briefs Price over comms and you help load wounded into the helicopter.

-

The third time, he’s sneaking through the rain and blood-soaked streets of Las Almas, Ghost guiding him through his ear as he makes his way to the church. 

He knows he should’ve seen it coming, but Graves’s betrayal stings nonetheless. Soap pushes the anger down, instead focusing on reaching the rendezvous point so they can escape and rescue Alejandro. The banter helps, but there’s an edge to Ghost’s voice that Soap understands as worry. 

They haven’t heard from you since you all were separated. 

They both know you can handle yourself, and worrying about it won’t help, so they talk and sort through their situation: what supplies Soap can pick up, how bad tequila tastes, the tactical uses for dog piss. Everything is as fine as it can be while on the run from deadly mercenaries. Until-

“The mask. Take it off.”

“Show my face?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Negative.”

“Are you ugly?”

“Quite the opposite.”

“Can confirm.” Soap nearly jumps out of his skin at the sudden sound of your voice. 

“Holy hell, where have you been?”

“Aw, you worried about me, Soap?” The teasing tells him you’re not in too much danger, or are at least somewhere you feel safe, but something in your voice feels…off.

“What’s your status?” Ghost cuts in.

“Managed to get out of the village,” you groan through a deep exhale, and give a haggard laugh, “can’t say the same for the Shadows.”

Ghost gives a quiet hum of praise, but all Soap can hear is the strain in your winded voice. “You alright, Doc? You sound-”

“Dings and scrapes, Soap. I’ll be fine. Meet up with you later.”

“Wh-”

“Don’t worry about it, Johnny,” Ghost sighs, “just focus on getting to the church.” 

“Right,” Soap mutters. He returns his focus back to the mission at hand, rummaging through the drawers in front of him for rope he can wrap around his extra fan blade. 

It hits him just as he spots the reflective shine of a shard of glass on the floor. Can confirm, is what you’d said. Did that mean-

“The Doc’s seen you without the mask.” It comes out as more of a statement than a question. 

“Let’s worry about you, Sergeant.”

-

The fourth time, he lands hard on his feet in the pitch black of Alejandro’s safehouse. Soap has his back turned as Ghost climbs in the window behind him. Luckily for him, as Ghost sees the laser sight aiming right for Soap’s back. 

“Don’t move!” Ghost calls out, before launching a knife into the support beam across the room. Soap whirls around to shine his light at the beam just as someone calls out from behind it.

“¿Quién está ahí?”

Before either he or Ghost can answer, someone else stands and walks around to the front, “About time you two showed up!” Your voice is an instant relief as they both relax while you turn back to let Rodolfo know it’s safe to come out. 

“Either of you injured?” you ask, eyes scanning over Soap as Ghost hops down from the open window and Rudy returns his knife. 

“Nothing major,” Soap assures you, though your eyes linger on the bullet hole in his arm. 

“Found this one trying to climb in through the same window,” Rudy explains, nodding towards you. 

“I almost had it,” you laugh, leaning to the side to put your weight on the beam. They don’t miss the way you wince, and it doesn’t take long to notice your right leg is a deep red from the knee up.

“Your leg-”

“Looks worse than it is.” 

Soap doesn’t believe you, but the subject changes to Graves and he lets it go. The four of you settle around the table as the guys formulate their plan for Alejandro’s prison break. You set your palms atop the table, leaning forward to take as much weight off of your leg as you can so you can focus on the conversation. It doesn’t help much, but it helps enough and soon the plan is concrete enough to take action. While Rudy leads Soap to the weapons locker, you take a seat on a nearby box to check the haphazard bandages you’ve wrapped around your thigh.

“You’re staying here.” Soap glances over as Ghost speaks. You laugh quietly, leaning back on your hands to stare up at the man towering over you.

“Leaving me all by my lonesome?” You sound like you’re complaining, but even from a distance Soap can see the relief in your face. Your teasing does little to soothe the stress radiating from Ghost.

“Just-” Ghost lets out a long sigh before dropping his voice so low, Soap can barely hear his words. “Be careful. Please.” You sit up straight, face suddenly serious as you set a gentle hand on Ghost’s wrist.

“For you? Always.”

“Soap, can you grab the rest of the guns?” Soap snaps back to attention, nodding at Rudy and collecting what guns he can. It takes all of two minutes, and when he turns back, Ghost is sorting through papers and you’ve set to properly bandaging your leg. 

-

By the fifth time something happens, Soap is absolutely sure there’s something between you and the Lieutenant. He notices it everytime the two of you are together: the quiet banter, the dark jokes only the two of you enjoy, the way Ghost always seems to hover near where you’re standing. It isn’t until the 141’s every-so-often night out that his suspicions are confirmed. Gaz and Price stepped away for a round of darts ten minutes ago, and now Soap finds himself sitting alone watching you and Ghost talk at the opposite end of the bar.

“You keep staring like that, and they’re going to notice.” Soap chokes on his drink as Price takes a seat next to him, Gaz snickering as he flops down on Soap’s other side and claps him on the back. 

“I…I don’t know what you’re talking about, sir,” Soap coughs out, clearing his throat and looking anywhere but the other end of the bar. Price sees straight through his lie, of course.

“Gaz, why don’t you see if the Doc wants to try a hand at darts?” 

“Sure thing, boss.” Another clap on the back and Gaz is making his way over to you and Ghost. Soap startles as Price leans close and nudges him in the side with his elbow. 

“Keep your eyes on him,” Price whispers, and leans away to sip at his own glass. Soap takes another drink, sneakily glancing up just as Gaz reaches you and Ghost. You smile widely at him, nodding when he gestures towards the darts board. You turn and say something to Ghost before standing from the bar and following after Gaz to the other side of the room. Ghost’s eyes follow you the entire way, never once leaving your form.

“Watches like a hawk, that one,” Price hums, “and I thought he’d be better at subtlety.” Soap turns to his Captain, brows furrowed in confusion. 

“You-” Price shushes him, and nods back towards Ghost. Soap looks back, and they watch as Ghost sets down his empty glass, stands, then makes his way over to you and Gaz. He posts up, leaning against the wall closest to you where you can easily smile at him every time one of your throws lands. 

“Like a lost puppy,” Price laughs.

“What’s the situation there?” Soap asks, glancing back at Price, but all Price can offer is a lazy shrug. 

“Don’t know, but whatever it is, it’s been happening for a long time.”

-

“Alright, just got a couple papers for you to sign and you should be good to go,” you smile, gently turning Soap’s head to examine the area you’ve just pulled his stitches from. 

“Thanks, Doc. ‘Preciate it.” You give a playfully dismissive wave, disappearing behind the dividing curtain. 

“I’ll be right back!” you call and Soap nods, more to himself than you. He glances around at his sterile surroundings, eyes bouncing from the white walls to the white floor to the white bedsheets. The overbed table sits just next to him, though this time there’s no mess of papers scattered atop it. Instead, there sits a single file and after twenty seconds of solid boredom, Soap can’t help himself. 

Lifting from the bottom corner of the file, Soap nearly drops it as he sees your picture clipped to a pile of papers. He looks behind him, pulling the curtain just enough to peer through. He spots you on the far side of the infirmary, waiting patiently at the printer. Letting the curtain fall, he quickly turns back to your file. He flips it open, picking up the paper with your photo attached. It’s an older picture, maybe from three or four years ago, but your smile is still as wide as ever. 

Flipping the picture up reveals almost two entire pages of solid black lines. There’s more redacted information here than Soap has ever seen. Soap skims through what few sentences are available, every so often catching things like SIS and specialty interrogation tactics and a slew of words he never would’ve associated with your cheerful demeanor. He gets to the final page that appears to be a printed copy of the photo and his heart nearly stops as he reads the name written at the bottom and everything clicks together in his head.

Your last name is Riley.

#simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley #simon ghost riley #modern warfare #modern warfare 2 #mw fics #moth writes #private

[vampcastellan]

halloween with luke castellan

summary: planning a halloween party with your boyfriend luke castellan at camp half-blood :p 

pairing : luke castellan x fem!reader, reader's cabin not specified. 

word count: 2.1k

warning(s) : summerween vibes, lots of fluff, probably too much plot, kissing in the dark, mentions of alcohol, underage drinking, borderline smut but not really, and use of y/n 

✩ ‧₊˚ author's note: let me know if you're interested in a part two! it would be covering more of the party itself, moments with luke and also a few other mixed characters.

dedications: my bestfriend @dalgonacafe !

⋆｡‧˚ʚ 🤍 ɞ˚‧｡⋆⋆｡‧˚ʚ 🤍 ɞ˚‧｡⋆⋆｡‧˚ʚ 🤍 ɞ˚‧｡⋆ 

you and luke have been together for over 2 years now. the entire camp loves you guys together, for multiple reasons. one of these being your incredible ability to throw halloween parties, and you always have the best couples costumes there. 

“okay how about bonnie and clyde?” you roll over on the bed and glance in luke’s direction. he’s currently laying on the hermes cabin floor, keeping his focus on the paper in front of him. 

“too basic, anything else?” he replies. 

this is at least the 30th option you’ve given him, and his responses are all “no” “that's bad” “(blank) did that last year” and so forth. you accept defeat and throw yourself into the pillows, letting out a heavy sigh. luke notices this and stands up, walking over to your spot on his bed. 

“we still have a couple days before we need the costumes, its okay y/n” he kisses the side of your head before laying down next to you. the both of you sat in silence for a few moments before a lightbulb went off in your head. “CHUCKY AND TIFFANY” you shout at him excitedly. this is the first idea that he doesn't immediately shut down. you can visibly see the wheels turning in his head before he replies. “yes, you’re a genius, my love!” he wraps his arms around you and pulls you on top of himself. he places playful kisses all over your face while you laugh and try to push him away. “okay okay, we still need to plan luke!!” you peel yourself off his chest and begin thinking about how the costumes will look. although luke isn't much help with the planning, he does get his half brothers, the stoll twins to sneak in some items you needed. after a week of playing with fabrics, costume paint and fake blood, they are finally ready. all you have to do is make sure they fit now.

*time skip brought to you by: clarisse la rue’s curl routine*

you’re walking around camp with a small backpack, all of luke’s costume aspects are hidden inside. you stumble across the dining pavilion, only for him to not be there. you check the 12 cabins, the medical building, and even the vineyards. luke is nowhere to be seen, and the clock is ticking. 

“annabeth! annabeth chase!” you sprint toward the poseidon cabin doors, catching her right before it closes. “hi y/n! can i help you?” a light blush is spread across her cheeks, knowing you caught her going to visit percy. they’ve been dating for a few weeks, but refuse to tell everyone. it’s still obvious, and almost every camper knows, even chiron. 

“have you seen my boyfriend? i’ve lost him again and we have to finish these costumes for the party tomorrow night” you sigh and rub your forehead, obviously stressed.

“uhhhm, yes actually. i think clarisse was using him as a training dummy for the new kids. they should be up in the fields!” she smiles sheepishly. you thank her for her efforts and walk off, heading toward the training grounds. 

annabeth is right, per usual, as you approach the hill, you can see a horde of children gathered in small circles learning how to wield multiple weapons. luke is in the center of one of them, twisting and turning his sword. 

his brown curls are sticking to his forehead, his face is red and tired looking. seeing as it's already mid day, they’ve probably been working out here all morning. his clothes are damp and stick to his body, making his abs visible through his shirt. even a completely sweaty mess, he still looks incredibly  good and it makes your heart flutter.

he turns around at perfect timing, almost as if he can feel you approaching. he smiles your way before dismissing the kids for a break. you happily walk your way to where he stands.

“hello handsome, how’s training?” you wrap your arms around his waist and beam up at him. he reciprocates the action by looping his hands into the back pockets of your pants.  

“hi y/n'' he smiles before leaning down to kiss you, his lips are warm and welcoming. it’s a small moment that’s cut short by a group of nearby kids giggling in awe. you pull away from him and tuck your head into his chest in embarrassment.

“how much longer are you needed?” you pull away and glance up at him “we have a halloween party to throw tomorrow!” you add on, smirking and wiggling your eyebrows excitedly. 

“can i shower before you steal me away..?” he sighs and smells himself before fake gagging. you laugh at his actions before nodding your head yes.

you begin to walk away down the hill and back into camp, looking back at him and shouting “YOU HAVE 30 MINUTES CASTELLAN! FIND ME IN 30 MINUTES, GOT IT?” before giving a funny thumbs up and storming off.

*time skip brought to you by: walker scobell’s ginger allegations*

“lucas castellan, i swear if you keep moving i’ll give up right now and you're going to have to figure out this costume on your own!” his small movements are making it nearly impossible to check the sizing and fit for everything needed. although there's not enough time to fix any of the sizing anyway, as long as it's not too small everything should be fine!

“pleaseeee y/n, i'm bored, how much longer do i need to stand here??" he pouts, and kicks, and whines like a little child. 

“as long as i say so” you snap the behind of his shirt and then walk back to stand in front of him. smiling innocently at the move you just pulled. luke gives you an upset look but his stare quickly fades back to normal.

“we’re all done now, thank you!” the smile on your face beams happily. luke, thankful to finally be free, picks you up bridal style. 

“did you speak to clarisse about the forest being cleared? i know they’ve been working on it for a few days now.” he questions, carrying you over to a small corner of the cabin where your bed stands. 

“yeah everything is ready, i'm waiting on the twins to find that alcohol dealing cyclops.” you sigh, bringing your hands to cover your face stressfully, as he gently places the two of you on the bed. within seconds you find yourself wrapped up with luke, hands around waists, legs intertwined, and your head tucked into his chest. 

*time skip brought to you by: grovers cgi hoofed feet*

you carry the last of the drink coolers toward the main table, and set them by the others. some of the camp kids have been helping you set up the forest for the party tonight. there's bushes and trees that perfectly block off where camp adults could possibly see what's happening. the beach shoreline is sprinkled with log chairs, a couple snack tables and a lit campfire in the center. nightfall is setting and people will finally be arriving soon

“so clarisse, are you coming with chris?” you turn in her direction and smirk when she meets your eyes. chris rodriguez is a son of hermes, so he’s technically luke’s half brother. he’s also clarisse’s crush, but she won't make a move on him. 

“oh shut up, you know he doesn't even like me y/n” she glances at you and gives a mean looking face. all you can do is laugh before replying back “well that’s not what luke told me last week!” you smile cheerfully and hold up a bag of plastic cups toward her. “you are making a move tonight or else i will tell him myself!” clarisse just sighs before nodding her head, silently agreeing. 

a few campers start to trickle in, wearing a mixture of homemade and store bought costumes. some of the girls have turned their everyday makeup into scary face paint and fake blood. the twins must have worked overtime smuggling in so many wanted items for the party. annabeth walks in alongside percy, and they’re matching together, prince eric and ariel. it's cute and also funny, ariel is a daughter of poseidon in the mortal made movies, but not in a demi-god way. 

“hey i'm gonna run down and fix up the beach tables, can you help me host til i get back?” you smile towards clarisse as she nods her yes. you walk back towards the shoreline, passing the young lovers on your way.

“this, this is amazing!” you bow in awe, annabeth blushing slightly and percy laughs. “i was forced into it, but thank you” he beams happily at you before looking down to beth.

“where’s your boyfriend?” she looks at you, and then around the party, confused. 

“uhhhhm great question, running late i assume? i’m gonna go fix up the rest of the tables but feel free to grab some drinks and hang out!” you shoot a reassuring smile toward the two before walking off. 

suddenly someone wraps their arms around your waist and rips you into the air, spinning you around. you scream loud enough for a couple nearby kids to glance your way concerned. 

“HELLO?? GET YOUR HANDS OFF OF ME!!” you screech and try to wiggle out of their grasp. by the hands gripping onto you, it's obvious this isn't a girl. unless it was clarisse…but you know she wouldn't dare touch someone unless she really had to. “PUT ME DOWN!! WHAT ARE YOU, CRAZY??” you kick your feet and flail your arms. the boy chuckles and places you back down in front of him, you look up and sigh. “really luke??? you scared the shit out of me!” you push his shoulder and scoff, rolling your eyes and turning to walk away. he laughs to himself and reaches out grabbing your wrist, he spins you back toward his body and into his arms. “i'm sorry, it was funny!” he said in between laughing. “i didn't even know you could scream that high! it was amazing baby!” he tries to make you feel better, but all you can do is stare at him. 

his hair is normally brown and curly, laying messy over his forehead. but now its carefully slicked back, like an 80’s greaser boy. theres orange hair spray covering the top as well, completing the appeal. the scar he once got from a past quest is highlighted by the fake blood around it. one of the camp girls must have helped him do his additional makeup, because it looks amazing. he’s suited into the costume you helped make him as well, wearing a colorful striped shirt and overalls on top. somehow everything fits just right, he looks good and he knows it too. a sly smirk sits on his face when he notices how your eyes are practically jumping out of your head. 

“earth to y/n, you okay down there?” he shakes your shoulders carefully, a small attempt to grab your attention again. 

“what? yeah! yes, i'm great! sorry you just scared me is all.” you nervously spit back at him. “i have to finish moving some stuff around for the tables down by the beach. come find me later?” you smile up at him with such love behind your eyes

“oh yes ma'am, yes of course.” he nods quickly before leaning down to kiss you. one turns to two, then three and maybe even four before his arm drops down to your waist. he’s dangerously pulling you closer to him, grabbing onto any parts of you that he can. you allow it to happen as well, dipping your head lower and giving him access to deepen the kiss. your hands find their way to the back of his neck, playing with parts of his hair. the way he kisses you is out of pure hunger, and his movements easily become sloppy with lust the longer that the two of you are together. 

you gently pull back, the both of you are breathing heavily and lips glossy. 

“okay! okay!” you giggle in between a couple more of luke’s desperate small kisses. he finally pulls back and looks at you fully, eyeing you up and down a few times before replying 

“i like the costume, by the way. if you couldn't tell” he smirks down at you before kissing your cheek and turning to walk away. “i’ll come find you later, pretty girl!” you blush and shake your head yes as you watch luke disappear off into the opposite part of the forest.

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#luke castellan fluff #luke castellan x you #luke castellan x yn #luke castellan x y/n #charlie bushnell x reader #luke castellan pjo #percy jackson #percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson fanfic #luke castellan fic #luke castellan imagine #luke castellan x fem!reader #luke castellan x reader #luke pjo

[peachesofteal]

Would darling in the baby trap au ever get an abortion as a way to take control back? Simon and Johnny took her choice away so she takes that hope from them? I love all the different routes of the au you’ve written so far!

TW: abortion

18 + / dark themes, reader had an abortion, angst / baby trap au / Darling doesn’t know about the baby trapping - this is not after 'spits', just exists somewhere in baby trap au

The bed feels more empty than it ever has before.

The guys are dead asleep, Johnny curled along your side, a hand possessively resting overtop your belly button. Simon is snoring a little, from laying his back, his fingers curled on the inside of your thigh. Like a tether.

You’re laying awake, staring at the ceiling, counting your breathing. A very large part of you wants them to sleep in for hours so you can delay the inevitable. The conversation looms in the back of your mind, like a ticking time bomb, and even though you’ve rehearsed it a million times… you still weren’t sure how exactly you were going to tell them.

They wanted this.

They had wanted this so badly, they were so thrilled when you had told them you were pregnant.

It was shocking. It was unsettling. You always believed you and Simon, lived on the same page. And then, to be so blindsided by their unadulterated glee... it was a betrayal.

And you couldn't even be mad at them, for being happy about an accident. For embracing such a big change with a positive attitude.

But you could be in control of your own body. Make your own decisions.

Johnny stirs, and then he pulls you closer, shifting until your legs are intertwined with his and you’re partially rolled over, your face buried in his chest.

“Good morning.” He whispers with a kiss, a loving touch that’s placed in your hair.

“Morning.” You mumble, and his arms tighten around you.

“How’re ye feeling?” You’ve been ‘sick’ the past few days, with what they thought were pregnancy symptoms, but in reality, was just the remnants of medication.

“Better.” You take a long breath, and then let out slowly. “Johnny, I- I have something I need to tell you. Both of you.” You don’t look up from where your face is pressed to his warm skin, and when he tries to peel you off, you resist, pushing back. Simon’s snoring stopped a minute ago, and now his chest presses to your back.

“What is it?” He smooths a hand over your forehead, and then waits.

“I…” fuck. The air in the room is now non existent, your body buzzing with a weird numbness that spreads through your veins like an illness. Everything feels heavy, and you try to relax enough to speak.

“Darling?” Johnny encourages and you close your eyes.

“I had an abortion.”

The energy in the room shifts. Johnny holds his breath, and Simon sits halfway up, while you clench your eyes shut like a child hiding from a monster.

“It’s why I’ve not been feeling well… I got the pills from the clinic. Last week. Took them the other day.”

“You…” Johnny says, and his arms go limp around you, the motion alone enough to bring tears to your eyes.

Simon doesn't let go, but his arms tighten, and you steel yourself against the swell of your feelings, the pain, the sadness, welling up into a giant pit that swallows your entire stomach.

"Why?" It's a simple word, a question in a syllable, but the answer is vast, and complicated, and hard.

"I didn't want it. Wasn't ready, to be a mom. I felt like I was trapping you both-"

"We wanted to keep it." Johnny rebukes, tone frosty, colder than you've ever heard it before. It makes you feel nauseous.

No. No, it's not fair. It's your body, not yours.

"What about what I wanted? It's... it's my body! Not yours-"

"But it was our baby too." He seethes, sitting up, jerking away from you. Simon still holds you, stroking a soothing hand up and down your arm.

"Johnny." It sounds like a warning, but one Johnny doesn't heed.

"How could ye be so selfish? How could ye not even tell us? We wanted that baby! Wanted it together, all of us, darling. As a family!" His outburst, the words, shock you, and tears pour down your cheeks, chest shuddering with sobs while Simon keeps you from moving.

"That's enough, Johnny." Simon's voice takes on the edge, the authority, and Johnny snaps his mouth shut, staring at you, saying nothing. Hopelessness etched across his face.

"I'm s-sorry." You sob. "I didn't want it." He says something in response, something you can't understand, and you turn away, seeking the warmth of Simon's body, eager to hide from his anger.

You hurt him. You betrayed him.

Simon rubs your back, whispering to you that you're okay, that you need to focus on breathing, that everything will be okay, but all you feel inside of yourself is a vacant, gaping hole. A hole where your heart used to be. A hole where a baby used to be.

"I'm sorry, I'm so, so sorry." you cry, hoping Johnny hears your apology, your plea.

The bedroom door slams in response.

#peaches asks #peaches writes #baby trap au #tw abortion #tw dark themes #tw dark and twisty #soap x reader x ghost #female reader

[morganbritton132]

PLEASE ELABORATE ON THE BRACELET WITH EDDIES NUMBER ON IT

Was there a time Steve sleepwalked and someone did call Eddie? Was there another time it came in handy when Steve lost Eddie (or Eddie lost Steve) or something other?? Please I need more that is so cute

Just a warning, I made this sad for no reason.

Once when Steve went on tour with Eddie, he wandered off in a post-ictal fog and ended up lost in the city. It took them a few hours to find each other because Steve didn’t know where he was nor did he have any money on him. After that, he would write the phone number of Eddie’s manager on his arm since he was the only guy on tour with a cell phone.

Pat, Eddie’s manager, wasn’t thrilled with this arrangement because he didn’t particularly like Steve, but after Steve channeled the coldest version of his mother and reminded Pat that only one of them was replaceable – “And managers are a dime of dozen” – he begrudgingly agreed.

He was never called.

Steve actually got the idea for the bracelet from one of his second graders.

After a pretty bad allergic reaction, one of his students came back to school with a little silver bracelet on her wrist. It had her mother’s phone number on it and the words ‘Peanut Allergy.’ She smiled up at Steve when she showed him and said, “My mama says this will keep me safe!”

He smiles too, “I bet it will.”

The bracelet is a surprise that Steve never gets to tell Eddie about. The day it comes in the mail, Eddie is over at Gareth’s for a D&D campaign so Steve never even gets the chance to tell him. He goes to bed before Eddie gets home and wakes up in the Emergency Room.

He’s cold and his feet hurt, and there are cuts on his hands and medical tape on his face, and for a second, he thinks he’s in the backseat of a blue Camaro with the world’s most reckless driver. He tries to sit up and it sets up an alarm and then there’s a hand in his, squeezing it.

It takes Steve a second to recognize the rings, to follow the rings up an arm, up to big eyes and messy curls, and Steve breaths out the only thing he can think, “Wow.”

“Wowza, big boy,” Eddie grins back at him, and Steve loves him. “How are you feeling?”

“Did something happen?”

“Yeah, uh. Sleepwalking again,” Eddie hums and then he smiles again. He taps a ring on his free hand against the metal bracelet on Steve’s wrist, “This is fucking brilliant, by the way. Did you think of it?”

Steve’s jaw kinda hurts like he’s been clenching it, but he smiles anyways, “Yeah.”

“You’re a genius, babe. They called me immediately,” He says, kissing his knuckles. Steve frowns, seeing a bruise there. Eddie notices and his grin takes on a chaotic edge, “You punched a security guard.”

“What?”

“For real, babe,” Eddie laughs at the panicked look on his face. “I don’t know what they did to trigger you, but you fuckin’ decked one of ‘em.”

“Oh my god, I’m going to jail.”

“Nah, it’s all good. I took care of it,” Eddie says and then to the skeptical look on Steve’s face, he rolls his eyes. “Okay, fine. The guy is a fan and I gave him tickets not to press charges. Also, he feels pretty bad about spooking you since you clearly weren’t in your right mind.”

“Was in my left mind then?” Steve half-jokes, half-yawns. “Who brought me in?”

“You did.” Eddie’s smile dims in a way that’s a little sad but full of love. “You came here on your own actually – without shoes. We’re gonna have to teach your left mind about shoes – and, uh. Based on what I’ve heard, you were looking for a patient.”

“A patient? What patient?”

“They, uh. They said you were looking for Max.”

#Post-Vecna Steve was always either coming or going from the hospital and after he has a nightmare about Max it’s just easier for his mind to #put his anxiety into a routine so he does what he did then and he goes to the hospital #Side note: I love the thought of little toddler Steve hearing his mom tell his dad’s secretary that he’s definitely sleeping with that she’s #replaceable and nothing special and then internalizing that mean girl energy #eddie munson tiktok saga #steve harrington #eddie munson

[techs-goggles9902]

Hi. I read that you're in your Captain Rex phase, so for a request, how about he x F! Kix's assistant doctor where is her birthday and Hardcase, Fives and Jesse convince her to celebrate on 79s. She doesn't drink, so when she does this for the first time she ends up confessing her feelings for Rex to his brothers and at that moment he listens. Rex takes her home and takes care of her. And maybe when she's sober they can talk about it, and she finds out that Rex feels the same way about her. ♥️

I Like You - Rex/f!medic reader

REQUESTS ARE OPEN! SEE MASTERLIST FOR DETAILS. I WRITE FOR ALL LISTED FANDOMS BTW

Warnings: alcohol, mentions of syringes (but not used, just thrown away)

Word count: 1544 (dialogue heavy)

A/N: sorry I took a few days! It took me a while to figure out how to write this since I’ve never drank or anything, so a lot of googling! I hope this is what you meant! I’d be happy to rewrite it if you’re not happy!!! ❤️

“Stitches!”

You turn at the call of your name. Well, nickname. Ever since the Republic needed more medics and you came into the 501st family, that’s been your name. The men gave each other names, and they saw fit to give you your own.

“Fives, hey. Did you need somethin’?” You ask as you pick up another discarded syringe from underneath a gurney. The last battle was brutal, with so many fatalities. So many men. Troopers. Friends. Brothers.

“What, I can’t just come and say hi to my favorite medic for no apparent reason?” He smirks. You give him a look.

He folds, “Fine. Well… ‘Case and Jesse told me it was your birthday. Why didn’t you tell us?”

“I didn’t want to make a fu-”

“Don’t lie. I know how you and the other nat-borns avoid birthdays around us. It’s not like we’ll get offended, Stitch. It’s your birthday!” Fives grins and shakes your shoulders enough to make you smile back.

You give him that little shy smile of yours and his gaze softens from excited to empathetic.

“Can we take you out tonight? Not as a date, of course. You have someone in mind for that, don’t you, Stitch?” He waggles his eyebrows at you.

“Shhh! Shut up, we don’t talk about that…”

“Okay, fine. But, please, Stitch? Hardcase and Jesse would be devastated. You don’t want to crush their hearts, do you? Do you?”

“Oh, Fives, you… Fine! I can’t take your begging and pleading. You’re buying,” you say with a grin, walking away to discard the syringe. Fives follows you.

“We have a couple hours until we get home, so… Uh… Do what girls do,” he says.

“Okay, okay! Get out of here already, Maker…” You laugh as Fives hugs you from behind and runs out of the medbay before you can throw anything at him.

Why did I even say yes? I’ve never even touched alcohol and now I’m surrounded by it. I swear, if I’m dragged back to the barracks, I’m killing all three of those idiots.

“Stitch! Over here!” You’re called from a small booth in the back of 79’s. You’ve been to this bar a multitude of times over your two year career in the 501st, but you’ve ever had a drink here. You were, as Hardcase calls it, the designated driver.

You approach the booth, weaving between drunk troopers, their civilian dance partners, and server droids. Fives, Hardcase, and Jesse already had drinks in their hands as you slid in the booth next to Jesse.

“Finally made it. Ordered you a drink,” Hardcase says with his little grin.

“Too kind, good sir,” you retort, shoving Jesse to give you more room in the booth. He shoves back with a smirk.

The server droid quickly delivers your drink, a colorful cocktail with various sugary fruits on skewers balancing on the rim of the glass.

“How can you guys even afford this?” Your jaw goes slack at the sight of the drink.

“Bill it to the Republic!” Fives yells, raising his own glass in the air. Hardcase and Jesse reciprocate, thrusting their glasses in the air, spilling a bit of its contents on the table top.

“Sure, sure, yeah,” you giggle, slightly raising your glass so you don’t knock off the fruits.

It started with the cocktail. Then a few shots of Spotchka. Then some Corellian ale you’ve seen in holo-commercials. The four of you couldn’t even walk straight, but did it matter? It was your birthday and your first time experiencing the feeling of alcohol flowing through your veins.

The buzz kept you upright, kept you awake, kept you partying.

What if he was here… heh, we’d have fun… A lot of fun.

“So, who’s this mystery man we’ve had to hear so much about, Stitch?” Hardcase slurs.

“Oh my Maker… He’s. So. Fine. No, seriously, you don’t understand, ‘Case. And, he’s so nice…” you sigh dreamily.

“Oh, it’s me?” Jesse laughs.

“No… c’mere,” you beckon, the three clones leaning in with wide eyes. “It’s Rex.”

“Ha! I knew it! Stitch likes Rex!” Fives cackles, raising his empty glass in the air. Hardcase’s eyes go wide and he nudges Fives’ ribs with his elbow and points to something, or someone, behind you, in front of them.

“Wha… Oh. Hey, Captain… Didn’t know you were gonna be here…” Fives says, quickly lowering his arm, his face turning a deep scarlet.

Your breath stops halfway to your lungs, your blood running cold. Did he just say captain-

“Different Rex, of course. You know, that one dude… He’s uh… Over there somewhere…” Hardcase quickly says, pointing somewhere across the dimly lit bar. Fives and Jesse turn their attention there as well, all murmuring under their breath about the nonexistent other Rex.

“Okay, I think Stitch has had a bit too much to drink tonight. You’re obviously not getting home by yourselves anytime soon,” Rex says, curling his fingers around your upper arm and easing you to your feet.

“Rex, I, uh…”

“Stitch, don’t worry about it. Let’s get you home, yeah? Let you sober up for the night,” Rex gently pulls you away from the booth, the drunk trio of clones still trying to point out the different Rex. None of them notice as Rex takes you out the backdoor.

“What’s your passcode?” Rex asks as he comes to a stop at the door of your apartment, ready to type in your code.

“7-5-6-7,” you recite, your cheeks burning a bright pink. Rex raises his brows with a little chuckle and pulls you inside, shutting the door behind you.

“Let’s get something non-alcohol related into your system. You have water in the conservator?” He asks, gently pushing you onto a kitchen chair.

“Mmhmm.”

He finds a bottle of water and a ration pack, opens both, and places them in front of you.

“I want them both gone,” he firmly says as he slides in the seat across from you. He watches, making sure you eat and drink everything. “Happy Birthday, by the way.”

He said Happy Birthday to me. He said Happy Birthday to me. He said Happy Birthday to me. He said-

“Thanks.”

Once the ration pack is eaten and the glass is empty, Rex cleans up, ordering you to the bedroom. You sit on the bed, not wanting to go and find your pajamas, not wanting to clean off your makeup.

“C’mere,” his soft voice coos. It’s music to your ears, the way his accent makes him pronounce the sounds just a tad differently.

He grabs a wipe from your adjacent bathroom and gently wipes away the cosmetic gunk you painted on your face. You just barely hear him whisper, “Don’t see why you need it. You’re beautiful without it.”

The words bring warmth to your chest, butterflies to your stomach, happy thoughts to the mushy thing between your ears. He called me beautiful…

He turns away as you change into just your undershirt, hiding the rest of your body beneath the covers of your bed.

“Ah ah! Not on the stomach or back. Your side, Stitch,” he says, turning around and pushing you onto your side, piling pillows to keep you in position.

“But what if I like sleeping on my tummy?” You ask, trying to roll over to face him. He sighs.

“And you think I’m a difficult patient?”

“But… What if I get uncomfy?”

“Hon, lie still, please.”

“Bu-”

“No.”

You pout, jutting out your bottom lip. Rex smiles. “You’re cute like this. Get some sleep, Stitch.”

He called me cute…

Waking up with a skull crushing headache made you rethink going out in the first place. The nausea hits you as you sit up, your head spinning. The Coruscant sun spills through your translucent curtains, illuminating your bedroom.

The sounds of passing speeders whirling past your windows are muted by the durasteel walls. Someone, a man, sits in the chair beside your window, his face is slowly revealed as the sun rises higher.

Rex… he stayed with me… Aw, he’s sleeping…

“Mmm… Finally ‘wake…” he says, his husky voice laced with sleep. His eyes crack open and his drowsy hazel irises look upon yours. “Feeling okay?”

“Did… Did you sleep there?”

“Mmhmm… I didn’t wanna intrude. It’s your bed,” he says, rubbing his eyes with his calloused hands. “But how do you feel?”

“Hungover, I guess.”

“First time?”

You nod. “About what I said last night…”

“Hey, no. Don’t apologize, okay? I… like you, as well, Stitch,” Rex says, coming over and sitting beside you on your bed, the mattress dipping beside you.

“I- What? You do?” Your eyes widen, everything that happened, every little thing he cooed in your ear the previous night, all of it comes back. He called you cute. Beautiful.

He nods, wringing his hands in his lap, a shy smile tugging at his lips. He turns slightly to face you, the two of you subconsciously leaning in. Your lips part as your eyes drift down to his own lips, his tongue quickly wetting them.

“I really like you, Stitch…” He murmurs as he leans in closer.

“I really like you, to-” You’re shut up by his lips pressing against yours.

Maybe I won’t kill the idiot trio, afterall…

Taglist: @will-is-silly @fionajames @sevdidntdie @hellhound5925 @dangraccoon @skellymom

Please lmk if you want to be added or taken off the taglist!

Dividers by @ saradika

#Sha speaks #the clone wars #star wars #clone troopers #tcw #captain rex #captain Rex x reader #captain Rex x you #star wars fan fiction #fan fiction

[mockerycrow]

Undercover V (Soap x GN!Reader)

undercover series masterlist - previous | next

Summary: Your stress is staying at it’s peak for the time being as you come to terms that you’re staying under a secure watch until you’re properly evaluated, under the wise eyes of John “Soap” MacTavish. Chapter five, otherwise known as “babysitting duty”.

A/N: I’m so sorry for taking literally a month for this chapter. I’m so glad you guys are still loving this series. This a bit of a humorous filler, so I apologize. Next chapter will have more story!! <3

[WARNINGS: Mentions of genocide and human trafficking, inaccurate medical stuff.]

“Truth has many shades; it is not a matter of black and white, but grey.” -Morgan Freeman.

AFTER MY WHOLE failed evaluation, they allowed me to rest again, which I’m half thankful for, half not. I got a few hours of sleep in, but not enough to feel good about. The ache of sitting in a bed for a couple days is finally beginning to kick in so much so that I can’t sleep. I woke up really early in the morning, around 3 AM. I wasn’t surprised to see the lights in my room to be off, but I was surprised to vaguely see a figure in my room which at first freaked me the fuck out, but I quickly realized was Soap. I can’t make his features out enough to see if he’s awake or not, but I don’t care.

I need to get out of this damn bed.

I move my handcuffed hand a bit to grasp onto the hospital bed railing and I begin to slowly pull myself from my bed, hissing as new aches bloom across my healing wounds. Especially my damn stomach area, fuck. I ignore the pain blooming underneath my skin and I manage to get myself into a sitting position, and I can already feel some relief hitting me once I’m not laying back against a surface. I slowly curl one of my legs up, a soft noise leaving my lips as I feel my muscles in my leg thank me for bending my leg. I hear Soap stir, but I don’t pay him any mind. He makes a “hmm?” sound as I take a slow deep breath, allowing the aches in my wounds to subside.

“What’re you doin’?” Soap grumbles out, voice thick and heavy with sleep, making him a bit hard to understand when combined with his accent. He inhales loudly as he stretches and I glance at my handcuffs. “Sitting up.” I reply curtly. Can he not fucking see??

..I forgot it’s dark in here. Anyway..

“Ya need to lay back down and rest—“ I groan. “All I’ve been doing is laying down! My back fuckin’ hurts, man! I’m tired of sitting here like a wet noodle.” Soap gets up from his seat and walks closer to me—which isn’t that far of a distance, honestly, since Soap’s chair is considerably close to my bed. I notice his gloves are still on as he puts a hand on my shoulder, which he must’ve chosen the sore shoulder because I since and shy away from his touch. “Ow.”

Soap quickly retracts his hand, wincing himself in sympathy. “Look, it’s late, aye? Why don’t ya lay down fer now, have tha’ doctors help you in the mornin’?” His eyes glance up at the clock up on the wall, squinting his eyes to look as it’s dark in here. I groan and bite my lip, silently licking and choosing my battles. He is right, it’s much better for me to wait until the doctors or nurses come and help me. I sigh and make a motion with my free hand. “Alright.”

I manage to get myself laid back onto the bed, and I keep looking at my handcuffs. I move my cuffed hand around as I look at Mohawk, gesturing to my cuffed wrist now. “Okay, tell me how truly necessary this is. It’s getting a bit tiring.” My tone is a bit.. curt, and I don’t mean it, but I’m getting antsy in this room and I fucking hate just laying here. I’m uses to being out on the field, so sitting in one place doesn’t do me much good. Soap snorts as he sits himself back in his chair and without looking, grabs his sketchbook notebook thing from where he stuffed it between my mattress and the frame of the hospital type bed. “I dinnae ken how i can say this in a nicer way but, you’re.. considered a risk of some sort by the dafties overseein’ ya.”

I blink at him for a moment and he has a sheepish look on his face, his free hand coming up behind his head and scratching it. I pretend that I know one hundred of what he said—look, sometimes Scottish accents are hard to understand. “You’re one of the ‘dafties’ overseeing me.”

“You know what I mean!” Soap grumbles. I pause for a moment and keep my eyes on him, my fingers absentmindedly drawing patterns into the fabric of my blanket. “Do you think I’m a risk, Soap?”

Soap takes a moment to look back at me, and I mean really look back at me. His eyes pierce through mine again, taking in every detail of my face—and that causes me to look away again, because it makes me feel weird. “I mean.. Maybe. If I had ta’make the final decision, I’d let ya roam, but with someone to watch over ya.” His voice is serious as he seemingly tells me the truth about what he thinks. In a way, I find comfort in his words but I also.. don’t.

It hurts to know that they consider me so unstable.

“You should go back ta’sleep.”

I don’t answer and I look down at my fingers as my index finger scratches at the corner of my thumbnail. It feels like my damn nerves are on fire. “Can’t.” I mutter, and I curse myself when my voice is barely audible. Soap seems to catch what I said, though, because his eyebrow raises in an questioning manner. “Ya haven’t even tried,” He retorts, nearly snorting. Soap wipes his eyes as I huff—he’s right, I haven’t, but I know I won’t be able to. I look over at the clock on the wall, as if I could will time to go by faster. I let out a quiet noise as I shift myself a bit, a subtle painful ache settling back into my jaw and my abdomen. Oh yeah—I’m injured. It’s not like I forgot but, I’ve been so pumped of drugs this entire time, so I haven’t felt much since waking up the first time in this bed. I try to cross my arms, but my damn hand is still handcuffed!

Oh, god fucking dammit, I wanna get out of this bed!

“Stop actin’ like a wee bairn.” Soap snorts as he glances over at me again, then back down at his sketchbook notebook thing. I should probably ask what it is. “I don’t even know what the fuck that means.” I hiss with as much venom as I can muster, which isn’t much because I’m… cuffed to a bed. God. I hate this.

“Oh, lemme translate for ya.. Stop actin’ like a baby. Better?” He questions, pencil in hand. “Sure.” I mutter. I eye the pencil. “What is that?” I ask, pointing over to his general direction. “What is what?” Soap murmurs before holding up the notebook sketchbook thing. “This? It’s a sketchbook.” Ah, okay. I don’t have to call it that super long name now. Sketchbook, it is. I nod quietly as I glance around the room, trying to find something to focus on. It’s not like they could give me my phone. I wouldn’t be surprised if Makarov took it, destroyed it maybe.

….

Makarov.

I feel my heart suddenly drop into my gut and dig deep to stay there. Makarov.. He’s one hell of a man, that’s for sure. Can I even call him a man? He’s not a human being by my standards, anyway. The things I’ve seen him do, the things I’ve seen him order others to do—me to do.. He’s the worlds single largest threat and he’s in the wind. My fingers grasp at my blanket. He is not loyal to any country, he’s not loyal to any creed—he slaughters for his own gain, he doesn’t flinch at anything. Not human trafficking, genocide, fucking hell, what am I saying?? He’s the one doing the genocide! Just the simple thought of him makes my hair stand up and I hate that. I’m going to have to expose myself to these people, what I did to seem loyal—no, I’m not going to excuse it. Yeah, sure, I did it under the guise of loyalty, but I hurt a lot of fucking people. Any regular civilian would call for my death, but what they don’t understand is that when you’re fighting a war and trying to prevent a bigger one, one that will end in M.A.D? You do what you have to do. You turn your brain off, you pull the trigger.

I don’t know what to think anymore.

Something nudges my leg which snaps me out of my daze—it’s Soap’s boot. He puts his foot back on the ground when he has my attention. His eyebrow is slightly pulled in, the outer edge of his lip is pulled tight for a moment. “Get out of yer head there, mm? Look, let’s play a little game, shall we?”

I groan and I look up at the ceiling. “I feel like I’m being babysat when you say that.” Soap grins. “Ya are. Anyway—give me a, uh.. give me a thing to draw.” I blink at his words and I decide to not point out what he just said. I grumble and shrug. “I don’t know,” I began, glancing around the room at the different medical posters plastered on the walls—one of them on a program offered to help others to quit smoking. Bet that hasn’t helped too many. “A dog.”

Soap shakes his head as I began to say those words. “No, pick somethin’ else.” I raise an eyebrow at how quick he denied my request. “No, I want you to draw a dog.” I challenge, watching the way he twirls the pencil between his fingers. “Choose somethin’ else, I’m not drawin’ a dog.” My heart monitor begins to beep faster and Soap puts his hands up defensively. “Steamin’ Jesus, gettin’ worked up over the drawing? I’ll draw ya a cat instead, calm ya tits.”

I try to cover my snort of amusement because that wasn’t even on purpose. Soap is hunched over his sketchbook and I watch his pencil wisp across the paper, and I notice an indent on Soap’s cheek, almost like he bites the inside of it or sucks on the inside as he focuses. Huh. Makes me wonder if he does that on missions, too. I turn my head again and read the clock—it’s 3:30ish, maybe 3:40 AM. I only glanced at it before looking back at Soap.

I think I’ll actually break these handcuffs and end my life by breaking off pieces of the drywall and consuming it if this is how the next few hours will be spent.

“Y’know, my L.T. told me a joke concernin’ a dog.”

L.T.? Lieutenant, I’m assuming. I don’t say anything, but I look at him. Soap looks up from his sketchbook with a grin on his face again. “Wha’has two legs and bleeds?”

“A dog,” I respond.

“Half a dog.” He corrects me.

I blink at him slowly before trying to subdue the smile appearing on my face. I’m smiling because it’s stupid. “That’s dumb.” Soap inhales through his teeth as his pencil strokes across the paper. “Oooh, don’t let my L.T. hear that, yeah? The man loves his jokes.” My eyes watch his hand holding the pencil as I speak. “So,” I begin. “Your team is.. who exactly, again? You, Price, who else?” Soap hums. “Well, there’s me—I’m a sergeant. There’s Gaz, who’s also a sergeant. You’ve met Price, he’s my cap’n, and then there’s ‘The Ghost’.” He chuckles, glancing at me for a moment. “He’s my L.T.”

“‘The Ghost’?” I question, raising an eyebrow. Sounds like a name a middle schooler puts down for their kahoot game. Soap looks back at his sketchbook. “Well, it’s just Ghost. That’s just what he goes by.”

Edgy, damn…

“Hm. That’s the 141, then?” I bite back saying something about how they waterboarded me, because I know deep down that won’t help anyone. I’m trying to not think about all the damn torture I’ve endured this year because I find it quite annoying when my chest tightens so harshly—to the point where I can’t fucking breathe. Damn panic attacks.

Soap clears his throat and grins, erasing something before swiping the eraser shavings to the side. “All done. Wanna see?” He looks at me expectantly and I motion for him to show me. Soap turns his sketchbook towards me and he’s sketched out a messy, yet well put together drawing of a cat. He drew it in just a few minutes so it isn’t the most detailed, but it’s quite amazing for the time span he drew it in. “Oh, damn,” I say in quiet awe. “I thought you were just going to.. draw a little fella, I dunno.” I wince as my jaw pulses sharp pain through my nerves and my hand instinctively shoot’s up to cup my jaw. Soap’s sharp gaze lingers where my hand is for a moment before he shuts his sketchbook and stuffs it back between the mattress and the hospital bed frame. He grunts as he stands up and leans over me, his finger pressing the red call button on the remote near my pillow. He probably noticed my pain. “Thanks,” I mumble, my hand remaining on my cheek. My eyes flutter shut as the pain begins to intensify, so much so that I don’t notice another presence beside me until they utter my name. I eyes shoot open quickly, my body tense, but I quickly relax when I see it’s a nurse. “The Sergeant here told me you’re feeling some pain. Do you mind rating it on a scale of one to ten?” The nurse murmurs. The nurse is a man with long brown hair that’s tied up neatly into a bun. He has a darker colored beard with red hairs around his mustache and lower lip, dawning square-ish glasses.

“It’s at a four right now,” I respond, glancing at my IV lines before looking at the nurse’s gloves. “It’s climbing, though.”

The nurse hums and writes down my symptoms on a sticky note. “I’m going to go get you a small dose of a narcotic for you, alright? Usually I would give you some tylenol, but you’ve had some extensive medical care.”

I blink. Oh wow. A narcotic?

Soap grins and pokes me with the eraser of his pencil. “Looks like I’ll be babysittin’ ya fer a while more, yeah?”

Fuck.

taglist;; @hardnutpost @glitterypirateduck @elowynnlane @boycigs @wolfyland07 @escapefromrealitysm @tapioca-marzipan @cj-theyoungling @fullmoon-94 @gothgirl6-6-6 @thriving-n-jiving @paniniii @calloumii @the-spartan-himself @bi-witch-bxtch @blob-11 @cumbermovels

if your name is crossed out, it wouldn’t let me tag you, apologies!!

#call of duty #call of duty mwii #cod mw2 #mw2022 #mw2 2022 #cod #modern warfare ii #undercover⛈️🗯️ #soap x reader #soap x gn!reader #soap x gn reader #john mactavish x you #john mactavish x gn!reader #john soap mactavish x reader #john soap mactavish x gn!reader #cod soap #soap cod #soap mctavish #soap mactavish #john soap mactavish #john soap mctavish x reader #john soap mactavish x you #john soap mctavish x you #john soap mctavish #modern warfare 2 #modern warfare soap #cod mw soap #cod mwii #mw2 x reader #call of duty mw2

[ponyosmom35]

going home

Simon ghost Riley x reader

Liability chapter fourteen!

summary: reader bids her friends goodbye as she readies herself to go home and deal with the aftermath of her sisters death. Having to say goodbye to Simon proved much harder than she ever imagined.

Liability masterlist:

https://www.tumblr.com/ponyosmom35/733401347573088256/simon-ghost-riley?source=share

Simon walks into the base and hands his weapon to one of the soliders who took care of it. He pauses as he spots a familiar redhead speaking to a group of medics. He wasn’t expecting to see her again, he figured that she woud’ve left by now. Part of him was thankful that he was given another chance to say goodbye, another part wished she’d gone. Each time they spoke it was harder to push her into the back of his mind. He lingers in the area for a few minutes before her eyes find him. She hugs the medics and moves over to him holding her suitcase and bag in her hands. 

“didn't expect to see you here, thought you were leaving” he comments 

“got delayed” she says softly 

He noitces the sadness in your eyes, and the pain that's eating away at her “how have you been holding up?”

“I'm doing my best to keep my shit together” she admits sadly ”if one more person tries to talk to me about her I think I might scream, anyways how was the mission, seemed like you were in and out”

“it was just a routine operation. Not too much action or anything special” he says taking her bags and setting them on the ground. 

“I'm glad that I caught you guys before leaving” she smiles

“thought you already said your goodbyes?”

“one more can't hurt right?”

“alright, then, get to it” he jokes

“I am gonna miss you Simon, who else is gonna tell me the dumbest fucking jokes all day?” she asks, causing him to laugh.

“and you're gonna miss my brilliant sense of humor” he says this in a sarcastic, yet playful tone. “you just love to hear me talk, don't ya?”

“I like your accent” she admits,  mocking his voice

“oh, really? well you wouldn't be the first to find it charming and irresistible” he brags

She laughs loudly, playing it off as a joke, though she knew it was true. “yet another thing I'm gonna miss, your massive ego”

“a massive ego?” he questions, not even bothering to deny it “I mean, it's the truth, innit?”

“hand to god it is the truth” she admits 

“You might be the only person who can make me laugh at myself”

“someone needs to knock you down a peg” she says hitting his arm 

He leans back against the wall and crosses his arms, while maintaining a playful tone of voice, “ah yes, that's right, you used to be a real brat back then, didn't ya? thought you knew everything, and could teach me a few things” he teases

“I'm a fountain of knowledge” she shrugs 

“a fountain of pride, more like it” he teases, watching as you laugh “and a fountain of attitude”

“You’ve got a lot of nerve, all that from the most arrogant and stubborn man I’ve ever met”

“just 'cause I'm the best at what I do, doesn't mean I'm arrogant or stubborn, does it?”

“I hate to break it to you but, you might just be the most-” she is cut off by Soap sprinting over to them. He hops over her luggage and wraps his arms around her, lifting her off the ground and spinning her around. Simon looks over to Soap and shakes his head, noticing his playful antics with her while slightly rolling my eyes, and grinning playfully to himself. 

“precious cargo suds!” she yells as she hits his back, trying to get him to set her down. Giggling at him. 

He continues to spin her, then sets her down on her feet. “ankle biter I thought you were leaving!”

“I'm leaving in ten, got delayed”

“Well that means we got time...for a game of hide and seek” He puts his hands over his face and starts counting.

“shut the fuck up, normally I wouldn't turn down an opportunity to hide from you but I'm gonna have to raincheck this time” she smiles sadly.

Soap drops his hands a sighs, placing a hand on her shoulder  “what am I gonna do here without you lass? who's gonna debate with me all day?”

“you'll just have to call me when you feel like getting verbally assaulted” she says making them laugh  “what I'm concerned about is nobody making sure you don't eat more than 12 tacos on taco Tuesday”

“12 is light work”

“you have to save some for everyone else!” she repremands, He starts rubbing the back of his head sheepishly and mumbles

“Yeah alright. I'll save some” He pauses for a moment and looks at her. his face is filled with worry. he then speaks in a more serious tone. “are you gonna be okay? should I be worried?”

“everyone keeps telling me I'll be okay eventually, I'm not sure right now. I think being with my parents is what's best right now”

“Yeah...Yeah. You'll be okay” He steps forward, and pulls her into into a hug. He holds her tight for a few seconds, and then let's go. The smile comes back to his face. “You're strong lass. One of the strongest out there. Trust me”

“thank you Johnny, I'm really gonna miss you”

“Take care of yourself alright? you know my number, you have any trouble or need anything at all, get in touch with me.”

“don't worry whenever I feel like fighting, you'll be getting a phone call”

“perfect”

“I've already got a list of stuff we're gonna discuss”

“A full list?!” he asks in shock

“ten topics and counting”

“God help me”

She leans up and kisses his cheek gently “ bye Johnny”

“Bye lass”

She spots Kyle walking through the base, he takes off his vest and she runs over to him. She wraps her arms around his shoulders. He holds her tightly and rubs her back. “Glad to see you haven’t left yet”

“Just saying my goodbyes” she admits as she pulls back

“I’m gonna miss you red”

“What are you guys gonna do without me?” she jokes

“Cry probably” 

“Me too” she laughs 

“When do you think you’ll be comin back?”

“I’m not sure” she responds 

“Take your time love, allow yourself to feel it”

“I’ll do my best” she nods 

“You’ve got my number yeah?”

“Yeah”

“I expect at least one call a week”

“How about two?” she smiles, he holds his heart

“How did I get so lucky?”

“Nobody knows” she smirks 

“Take it easy alright? Know that you’ve got people here who love you, anything you need you let us know”

“Thank you Kyle” she smiles as she hugs him once more 

“Miss you already kid” he murmurs 

“Save your tears for another day” she says pulling away as she sees Simon and Price waiting near her car. She walks up to them and Price sets his hand on her shoulder.

“Thank you for all of your work here, you’re presence here will be missed”

“Thank you sir”

“Take all of the time you need, and when you’re ready, you give me a call alright?” 

“I will”

“Don’t hesitate to reach out” he says before wrapping her in a quick hug. “I’ll leave you to it Simon”

She moves closer to him with tears in her eyes. He steps forward to meet her halfway, and embraces her tightly for a long, strong hug, letting her lean her head on his shoulder, as he comforts jer and rubs her back reassuringly, all while trying hard to hold back his own tears, and his voice shaking from all of the suppressed emotion, barely able to get out a few words.

 “It's alright…” he whispers in her ear “you remember what I said?”

“I remember”

“Good…” he pulls away and gently cups both sides of her face, making sure to look deeply into her eyes, noticing how red and swollen they are from all of the crying, and wiping away her tears with his thumbs. 

“don't be a stranger ghost” she whispers “make sure you don't forget about simon, he deserves a life too”

Simon nods, and opens the vehicle door for her. He looks at her once more before shutting it. He throws her luggage in the back and hits the tuck twice. He watches as they drive away. He does not move from his spot until the vehicle disappears from his view. There she goes, the only woman he’s ever loved. 

#smut #cod mw2 #ghost call of duty #ghost cod #mw2 #simon ghost riley #simon ghost x you #simon riley #angst #cod x reader #call of duty x reader #call of duty #call of duty modern warfare #call of duty modern warfare 2 #modern warefare ii #cod modern warfare #modern warfare 2 #modern warfare #ghost mw2 #ghost #ghost simon riley #cod ghost #call of duty ghost #cod mw ghost #call of duty mw2 #call of duty mwii #call of duty ghosts #simon riley x you #simon riley x reader #simon ghost x reader

[iheartzegras]

Hi! Can I please get prompt 1. “hey, hey. it’s okay, i’ve got you now” with Quinn Hughes

it’ll be fine - quinn hughes

hey anon! thanks for your request! 💗

my requests are still open, so send in anything!

—————————————————————————

today, quinn had a game. the canucks had been having a good game from what you’d seen from your spot in with the wags at the arena. quinn had been playing fantastic. you couldn’t ask for anything better.

you had only left for a few minutes to go and get a drink, but by the time you had come back, the other players wives had concerned looks on their faces. you didn’t know what could’ve gone wrong.

you quickly walked to see what the commotion was, and when you saw quinn being taken down the tunnel, you also grew concerned. “what happened?” you had quickly asked. another wife replied “quinn, uh, he got hit in the face with puck” she said somewhat nervously. you realized with his lack of injuries, his luck would run out sooner or later. that luck ran out that day.

now, you were jogging down the halls desperately trying to reach the medical staff to see your hurt boyfriend. you flashed your pass at the security guard and continued on your way until you met up with the staff. “y/n, quinn is just in the room on the left. the bleeding isn’t bad, but it’ll definitely be bruised.” “okay, thank you so much”

walking into that room and seeing quinn holding onto his nose in pain made your heart ache. as soon as he saw you he tried to get to you. “hey, hey. it’s okay, i’ve got you now” you tried to comfort him. “it’s not that bad, i should be able to go back on. i’m just upset that it had to happen in such a good game” he abruptly spoke. “quinn, if you don’t feel the best, maybe you should stay off?” “no, it’s okay”

10 minutes later, quinn was right back on the ice. you tried to tell him that he didn’t need to go on, but he really did not want to stay off. he did have to wear the fishbowl though, which you made sure to get pictures of to send to jack and luke later.

the canucks ended up winning the game, with quinn scoring a goal and an assist. you couldn’t be prouder. meeting him back in the tunnel he had the happiest look on his face. “see, i told you i’d be okay!” he told you. “yes, and i’m so proud of you!”. you gave him the biggest hug, which he of course accepted and then he kissed your forehead. you two both headed home after a fabulous game.

games like these were what quinn enjoyed most. the challenges thrown at him only drove him farther. he was always so dedicated to everything in life. he really was the best for you.

—————————————————————————

another request done!

first time writing for quinn, lmk what you guys think!

also, thanks sm for the love on my last few posts 🫶🫶

#quinn hughes #quinn hughes imagine #quinn hughes blurb #quinn hughes fic #nhl #nhl imagine #nhl blurb

[adiduck]

anotha question ✨

there’s gotta be some icemav pining for each other that’s borderline verbal abuse of one another that makes the daggers think they hate each other (affectionately)…or everyone can tell they like each other cause 22’ is right there

You know what? I think I can do this. I'm gonna give a few different snippets (some of which I have already posted) which, in totality, I believe paint a picture:

Pushups with Bradley (already posted)

“Strong silent type,” he says finally. “No worries, no worries. I can fill the air for all of us.”

“He can,” Ice says, because he’s a damn good wingman and knows when Maverick needs a backup straight man in a conversation.

“One of my many talents,” Maverick agrees, gratefully. “Right under fucking up high yo-yos in new aircraft.”

“One-seventy-one,” Hondo says, and his voice shakes a little like he’s suppressing a laugh. Maverick looks up and winks at him while he’s doing his pushup.

“I got him into a defensive spiral and pulled out right before we hit the hard deck, and he reversed positions and got me on lock when I didn’t drop down to weapons envelope,” Rooster says suddenly.

Maverick pauses and then whistles low. 

“One-seventy-two.”

“That’s closer than I got,” Maverick says. “Fucker using the hard deck against you. One of our instructors did that to me first day at Top Gun.”

“And you broke the hard deck to get tone,” Ice interrupts, voice very dry.

“One-seventy-three.”

“And it didn’t count, because of the fuckin’ hard deck,” Maverick agrees. “Probably made the right call there, honestly. Saved yourself a reaming from the brass.”

“Not that Mav’d know anything about that,” Ice offers up.

“A third talent,” Maverick says easily, grinning.

On Ice’s other side, Rooster’s starting to relax a little.

“You really can just run your mouth, huh?” Rooster asks.

“You have no idea,” Ice drawls.

Rooster snorts.

“Alright, that’s enough chatter, gentlemen,” Hondo says, amused. “One-seventy-four!”

-

Football

“Come on, Captain Mitchell, take it off,” Phoenix crows, just after they’re back in the water post-lunch. The Captain, midway through pulling his white t-shirt over his head, starts to laugh, whole-bodied and amused.

“Been a while since I’ve been objectified by someone under my command to my face,” he says, peering out the neck hole as Phoenix grins, unrepentant. Very helpfully, Hangman puts two fingers in his mouth and wolf whistles, and everyone else cracks up.

The Captain’s played with them for the first half of the morning--keeps up, makes it pretty clear that he’s still meeting those medical standards for flight. He takes a few breaks--Maverick makes sure to tell him to remember to hydrate--old people are more susceptible to heat stroke, right?--and to be careful not to break a hip every time he comes back. Like clockwork. It makes the Captain’s jaw tick, which is hilarious enough Maverick doesn’t mind getting his ass kicked the next round every time he does it.

Eventually, though, it’s just too hot, and the guys start stripping shirts off. Maverick’s been enjoying the view, actually. There are a lot of very pretty people slated for this particular mission, and that’s not even counting Ice, with his wide shoulders and swimmer’s build, the freckles across his shoulders and eyes shining with challenge.

Maverick’s not stupid enough to hit on any of them when he’s gonna need to fly a suicide mission with them in two weeks, even on the down-low--Hangman’s definitely watching Maverick under his lashes when he thinks nobody’s looking, he’s not fucking subtle--but the point really does stand.

The Captain’s just about the last to give in, and honestly it probably is because he’s feeling old next to everyone else, if Maverick had to guess.

But here he is, joining the rest of them in shirtlessness. Maverick grins, soaking in the sun and comradery and good cheer, and knocks shoulders with Ice.

Ice shakes his head. “Keep it to a dull roar,” he calls. “I still have to deal with the younger version in a couple weeks after you all inflate his ego."

“Too late for that,” the Captain says, and winks at Ice, then continues to pull the shirt off over his head--

-

Later in Football

“Gotta ask, Maverick, are you also that crazy, or was that something that came with age?” Omaha complains. Over on the shore, the Captain raises his hands in surrender, laughing as he’s herded over to a chair. Still in the water next to them, Bradley scoffs and turns away.

Maverick frowns, and then shrugs, uncomfortable. “I have a pretty high pain tolerance,” he says. “I dunno, if he says Medical said he was fine, he’s probably fine.”

“So,” Omaha says. “The answer’s yes.”

“The answer’s definitely yes,” Ice drawls, he flips the football up onto his finger, gets a few decent spins before it wobbles and falls into his hand. “Hey,” he shouts at the shore. “Are we playing or what?”

“Hold your horses, we’re coming,” Hangman hollers back, as the Captain laughs again, reaches behind him to pull his dog tags to the front of his chest--

Maverick freezes. “Is he wearing a ring on that chain?” he asks, squinting.

Ice frowns, squinting too.

“Huh,” Omaha says. “Looks like it.”

“Aviators,” Bradley shouts suddenly, and Maverick startles a little. “Move it or we’ll move it for you!”

Hangman flips him off, even as Phoenix also rolls her eyes and the group starts moving back towards the water.

Maverick starts towards the shore. “Play without me,” he says.

“Come on, Maverick, if you go sit down we don’t have even teams,” Bradley says.

It’s definitely a ring. The Captain’s noticed him looking now though, flipped his aviators up to raise an eyebrow at him.

“He’s not married,” Maverick says, as Ice catches up to him. “It would’ve been in his file. Divorced? Engaged?”

“Divorced would have also been in his file,” Ice says. “Mav, if he wanted you to know, maybe he’d have told you.”

Maverick pauses. Hesitates. “It’s not Charlie, probably,” he says, feeling a bit guilty. He--well, he hasn’t been thinking about Charlie. He’s been busy, sure, but--

“It could be,” Ice says. “But if he wanted you to know, he’d tell you. Come on, let’s go back and play.”

Maverick hesitates.

“This’d be the second time you run out on me to go talk to someone about your love life, Mitchell,” Ice says. “Gonna start thinking it’s me.”

“It’s definitely you,” Maverick says automatically, and then huffs, rolls his eyes. “Well when you put it like that--”

Ice huffs a laugh, throws an arm over Maverick’s shoulder and turns him around. “Let’s show these assholes how it’s done, shall we?”

-

Drinking Game

“Star Wars and Star Trek got a complete reboot in the form of a movie. Which one really did?” Fanboy asks, grinning.

“Star Trek,” Ice says, only half a beat later. His voice has loosened to something of a drawl along with the set of his shoulders, the sprawl in his chair becoming increasingly boneless with every wrong answer. “Star Wars is only three movies, I don’t know why they’d bother remaking them.”

“Mitchell?” Fanboy asks.

“Uh,” Maverick says. He’s on beer three in about half an hour, and that’s not a lot, but it’s not nothing. And he barely knows what either of those things are. “I’m going to go with Lieutenant Nerd’s assessment over here.”

“Bite me,” Ice says easily.

“You’re correct,” Fanboy says, and Ice smirks in satisfaction as all around them everyone takes a drink. Maverick grins back, can’t seem to help it.

“Okay, next, a sports question,” Payback says. “Let’s see how well you know your baseball. Use of certain steroids was approved in 2007, or the Red Sox won the World Series in 2004.”

The world stops. “They did?” Maverick says, the words bursting out of him without any input from his brain, maybe too loud.

Phoenix cracks up, leaning over the table.

“Of course you’re a Sox fan,” Hangman mutters, rolling his eyes.

“I’m going for steroids are legal,” Ice informs them primly.

“Hey,” Maverick says. Ice gives him a bland look back, mouth pinched at the corners. Asshole.

“Might as well drink, then,” Payback says. “Sox have won most recently in 2004, 2007, 2013, and 2018.”

“Yes!” Maverick says. “Fact check!”

“You don’t believe him?” Phoenix asks.“I just want to see,” Maverick says, and holds out his hand for the cell phone. “Come on, give it up. This is the best day of my life.”

-

Last run before the mission (already shared in this exercise)

“Still with me, Phoenix?” Maverick asks, swinging into the fourth turn.

“We’re with you, Mav, don’t wait for us,” Phoenix says, and Maverick grins, banking hard.

“Kinda--the point, isn’t it?” he asks through the lung compression, and leans into a bank in the opposite direction. “Can’t do it myself.”

“Red letter day,” Ice says over the radio, sounding equally winded from the banking. “Mark your--calendars.”

Maverick laughs. “You said that, not me,” he says, and turns a flat ninety degrees under the simulated aqueduct.

“Do you know what ‘maverick’ means?”

“Sounds like a story,” Payback gets out.

“Tell you later,” Maverick says, and evens out, grins. “Time?”

“Five seconds under,” Bob says.

Maverick grins. “Fuck yes. Now comes the easy bit. Bob, prep that laser--popping!”

“The easy bit, he says,” Fanboy says. “They’re calling them miracles.”

“Naw,” Maverick says, reaching the apex of his climb. And there’s the target. “They call us ‘Maverick’ and ‘Iceman’.”

#adi is a writer #ask game #wip snippets #icemav #operation groundhog au #I think everyone's getting the picture LOL

[archiveikemen]

'Black Wedding' Story Event: Chapter 1

Roger's Route

I do not own any of the Ikemen Series content being uploaded on this blog, everything belongs to CYBIRD. Please support them by playing their games and buying stories. Not 100% accurate, expect mistakes.

read this before interacting with my posts

Things were getting busy at the laboratory in the basement of Crown’s castle.

Jude: Be more careful, you quack.

Roger: Then avoid knives if you don't want to receive medical attention from a quack, you sinister looking man.

Jude: What!?

Ellis: I think the way Jude gets a knife wound every three days is very bad.

Roger: Right? You should say that to him more, Ellis.

Jude: Ellis, don't you forget who you’re working for.

Roger: Hm? Ellis, you’re injured too. You’re after Jude.

Ellis: Sorry. Thanks, Roger.

Liam: Roger, you in?

Roger: What is it this time?

Liam: Sorry for telling you this when you’re so busy. Ahaha, I got myself hurt.

Liam smiled while blood dripped from his arm.

Roger: Hey, Kate. Stop the bleeding on that stupid cat’s arm with the clean cloth over there. Raise the wound—

Kate: Above the heart, yes?

Roger: Correct.

(Hang on, why am I acting as his assistant?)

However, hanging around Roger was beneficial to me because he was conducting research on curses.

Moreover, I noticed recently that I had gotten used to assisting him with his work.

— But to be very honest, from the bottom of my heart, I wasn’t too fond of being treated like a dog.

???: Roger, are you here?

Roger: Darn it, who is it now?

Someone unexpected had come to the basement—

William: Hm?

...

Roger: You’re not injured, so the reason why you were looking for me must've been for a mission.

Roger: You almost never end up in the infirmary due to an injury, so it surprised me to see you there.

Kate: I was surprised too. I almost couldn't believe my eyes when I saw you.

William: Fufu, I’ll be sure to meet your expectations and lose an arm before heading to the infirmary next time.

(If there’s anyone who can cut William’s arm off, I’d love to bear witness to that.)

Roger: — Anyway, what’s the mission about?

William mentioned that he had something he wanted to discuss with Roger and I.

William: Recently, there has been a certain rumour spreading around amongst couples in London.

William: Rumour has it that if a couple has their wedding ceremony with an organisation by the name of “Amour”, their love would last forever.

William: However, the couples who visited that organisation never returned. Not just one couple, but a few of them.

When they heard about it, William and Victor conducted an investigation into the matter.

They found out that a man who identified himself as the “Leader” of the organisation was behind those disappearances.

It seemed that he killed the couples, and stole the money that they had saved to start their new life together.

Roger: If that much has already been made known, then why hasn’t he been punished?

(Roger is right, there's no way William and Victor would let that man get away with his deeds.)

William: Ah, that man only shows himself during the wedding ceremony.

(During the wedding ceremony? That means…)

Kate: You want Roger and I to infiltrate the organisation, disguised as an engaged couple.

Kate: And lure that “Leader” out?

William: Correct. After that, it will be up to you to decide how you want to punish him.

Roger: I get what the mission is about, but why me? There are other guys suitable for the role.

Roger: … There’s so many people coming to me injured that I even need Kate to assist me.

William: Her Majesty said that your ears with extraordinary hearing abilities will be useful for the mission.

William: Also…

William: I have a message for you from the Queen’s aide. “The reward for this mission is a Legend Beer”.

Roger: Hey, hey, really…?

(The look in Roger’s eyes changed immediately!?)

Kate: Legend Beer?

Roger: It’s a very rare type of beer produced in Germany, and I’ve always wanted to try it.

Roger: Then it’s settled. Will you marry me, young lady?

Kate: What…!

Roger: If you’re willing, then there's one thing we need to do. Come with me.

Kate: W-Wait!?

While I was still puzzled, Roger dragged me to the common room.

If we were to fail to convince the organisation that we were an engaged couple, we would not be allowed to enter the premises, let alone have our wedding.

In order to avoid such an outcome, it was suggested to us that we come up with a plan on how we were going to prove that we were a real couple.

(... I feel like I’ve just lost to some beer, but I still have to do the mission anyway. I’ll do my best.)

Roger: My current profession won’t do, so I’ll be posing as a boxer and you’ll be a… postwoman.

Kate: I understand that my role is a postwoman because that’s what I worked as before, but why are you a boxer…?

Roger: Hm? Oh, I haven't told you? Boxing is a hobby of mine.

Kate: I didn't know that.

I thought that Roger having boxing as a hobby finally explained his muscular body.

(Seriously, the more things I know about him, the more gaps appear.)

Roger: And that’s for our professions. Lastly, we’ll have to agree on how we met each other. Any ideas?

Kate: Uh… how about I got into some trouble while doing my deliveries, you saved me, and so we started dating?

Roger: Oh, so you’re into that sort of thing?

Kate: That’s not true!

Roger: Okay, okay. Let’s go with your idea.

Roger: What else is there… we might be asked about the things we like about each other.

Roger: Crying is one of your hobbies—

Kate: Wrong!

(I need to correct him or he’ll misunderstand.)

Kate: Watching plays is one of my hobbies. I also enjoy eating delicious food.

Roger: Plays, huh. Your hobby is the complete opposite of mine.

Kate: Really?

Roger: Yeah, I’m quite unfamiliar with the arts and anything related to them. It's just not my thing.

(I thought that I already knew a lot about Roger, but it looks like there are still things I don't know.)

Roger: Anyway, we should talk about what we like about each other.

Roger: Say, young lady, what do you like about me?

Kate: Um…

Roger: Hm?

Seated in front of me, Roger locked his eyes on me as if he were testing me.

His gaze felt strangely alluring, making it hard for me to respond immediately.

Roger: Oops, since you can’t answer that question, I’ll just have to let you know—

Kate: L-Let me know?

Roger: I’d love to bed you right now, but we that would lead to both of us not getting enough sleep in preparation for tomorrow's mission.

Kate: B-Bed me…?

Roger: Pfft, hahaha! Hey, you won’t look anything like my fiancée if you get all upset because of that, young lady.

Roger: Come on, you can just say what you think my strengths are.

Roger laughed in satisfaction, seemingly enjoying seeing my frustration.

(Ugh… I’m always being led on by Roger.)

It felt frustrating to have him pushing me around, so I started thinking about the traits Roger would possibly look for in a potential partner.

Kate: You would like a woman who… has a mind of her own, and looks good when she cries… I guess?

Roger: Heh, you know me so well. I’m impressed.

Roger: Alright, we’ll definitely get through this smoothly. Let’s work well together tomorrow, yeah?

…

— The next day, we arrived at “Amour” and were greeted by several believers dressed fully in white.

Believer: Welcome to Amour. From this moment on, you will be put through a series of tests for us to determine whether you are truly in love with each other.

Believer: Only couples who are truly in love will be allowed to get married and meet our Leader.

(Everything will be fine, as long as we go according to what we discussed yesterday. Alright, let's do this!)

#ikemen villains #ikemen series #cybird ikemen #cybird otome #otome #ikevil story event #niki translates

[stevenbasic]

GITJ Post 319: Lunch with Abby

“So one of my girls, Lakshmi, tells me he’s all upset that I didn’t let him help me move,” said Melissa Monroe, Office Manager at what would soon no longer be a specialty geriatric medical practice on the city’s outskirts. She sounded a little frustrated. “You know I couldn’t, right? For, like, obvious reasons?”

“Yeah,” laughed Abby, her friend of several years and the sales rep/handler assigned to this project which - to an increasing number of people - was maybe becoming a little far-reaching, “Are they still mad about that? Your, uh…” Though increasingly bold these days, Abby still had to be a little concerned about prying ears. “…landlords?”

“Yeah sorta. My mom is too,” answered Melissa, spearing an artichoke heart from her plate of salad, “But she’s away for a while. I’ll deal with her when she gets back.” The two women were sharing lunch at a local restaurant that Thursday afternoon, and Melissa was glad she had Abby to talk to. Things had been a little funny with him these past couple of days, and it’d be nice to have a fresh perspective. Abby was a few years older, in her early thirties though she still looked so pretty, and Melissa had come to value her wisdom. Abby just seemed to…get her. Plus - she dressed so nice, so professional! Melissa always tooked to her as an example of how even a girl with a figure can dress for the corporate world. Abby was great. 

Knowing this about her ‘friend’, how Melissa respected her, made it a bit harder for Abby to say what she’d needed to say, and sometimes do what she needed to do. Melissa was a sweet girl, but she’d developed a little bit of a rebellious streak, and not everyone was happy with the way things were starting to proceed. Abby had, through this whole assignment, been tasked with keeping the course straight, the waters calm. “I also don’t know if it was a good idea,” she offered, choosing her words carefully, “You had everything you needed at your old place.”

“Yeah, I guess, I know. They’ve been so nice,” Melissa agreed, allowing that fact to her friend and doing her best to sound grateful, “I just wanted to be somewhere, even just for this little while, where I felt like I wasn’t being watched all the time.”

“I get that,” Abby conceded, forking a morsel of tortellini from her own plate. She understood it must be hard to be a girl in Melissa’s unique situation. But she also knew how they needed to keeps tabs on her, and him. “And it’ll be, what, a month or so before your mom gets back?”

“So I hear,” Melissa replied, “and by then the new places should be ready for us, if, like, all the construction keeps on schedule.” She bit her lower lip, took a moment as a waitress came by to refill her water glass. “But in the meantime it’s just that, well, when I want to be alone with him, I wanna be alone with him.”

After the waitress had left, Abby Solowicki smiled at her charge, knowing she needed to appear warm and supportive, “You really love him don’t you?” she asked. Of course she’d seen the reports, the EEGs, the bloodwork. There were quantifiers attributable to all this, and Melissa’s readings was off the charts.

“Omigod you have no idea,” gushed Melissa, immediately, a throb of wetness causing her to clamp her thighs tight, “I can’t…I can’t even describe it.”

This is what they hadn’t planned for, Abby surmised, watching the wave of emotions light Melissa’s face. She’s getting so caught up in this, much more than they thought she would. “I’m so happy for you guys,” she offered, smiling genially but knowing the answer to her next question before she asked it, “And he’s told you he feels the same way?”

Ugh, no. But the idea of it, imagining his quivering face looking up at her and professing his love made Melissa squirm again. “No…he hasn’t,” she breathed in exasperation, but able to actually hear his stammering little voice speaking those words: ILY. She wanted that so bad!! But…but…she understood, what he’s been going through.  “I’ve had guys tell me a lot of things,” she said to Abby, in explanation, “and I want him to…like…mean it, when he finally says it.”

Abby nodded.

Despite logic, despite the fact that it all made sense, him taking it slow, Melissa Monroe felt her blood start to simmer. She’d told him she loved him…why didn’t he feel the same?! Was there something wrong with her?!? Her friends were supportive, telling her that she was imagining it, his reticence and distance, but she’d definitely felt it this week. Had she gone a bit too far? Over the weekend, on Tuesday night? Been too much for him? Too aggressive? She knew he was fragile…

To Abby, to her friend, Melissa described her nights with him. How she’d manipulated him with her body, and with what she knew to be his weaknesses. She described her shows of physical strength. And then: “I was there, in his bed with him yesterday morning, and I just, y’know, with my perfumes. I pretended I was asleep but I  made him do…whatever I wanted. It just feels so good to play with him! But now maybe I feel a bit bad.”

“It’s okay. You’re just experimenting with your power,” Abby reassured her, knowing the course she had to take, “You’re growing, you’re growing stronger every day. It’s all so you can be better for him.”

Melissa nodded, taking a sip of her water and feeling acutely the weight of her chest, the musculature in her arms, back, shoulders. She could sense the ever-filling ocean of ultra-potent pheromones just barely held back by the floodgates under her skin, along with the hint of other budding abilities. She was becoming more powerful every day, and she knew it was true, she could feel it was true…it was all for him. The thought brought her a new wave of wetness, and she nearly sighed.

“Listen, Tits,” Abby began again, using the playful nickname she’d adopted for Melissa, “Men are all nervous, they have been for a while, but especially now after the election. They’ve been in denial but lots of them have seen it coming.” Abby, herself, had to control her voice and the excitement in it. “Imagine how he must feel, now. All that he’s lost, how he’s…like you said…getting smaller. He’s been surrounded by women all his life, and you’re surrounding him with even more, women who are bigger and stronger and smarter. Like all of them he’s worried about losing his rights, his independence. Don’t you think he’s nervous? That he’s scared? Maybe he sees his life slipping away and doesn’t know what the future is going to be.”

Oh godddddd, Melissa groaned, privately. Why was this so thrilling to her??

“So this is my advice,” Abby spoke, smiling seeing the effect she was having, “show him that you can be a comfort, that you can be protection for him now that things are changing. Did you watch the camera feed from his apartment last night, with him and that girl…what’s her name? Lilly?”

“Lakshmi,” Melissa answered, in correction, “No. I figured it was, like, a private moment for them.”

“Well I read the transcript, quick,” Abby explained, “He’s looking for it - comfort and protection. You’ve seen some of the notes on him, right? The history? He really wants a mother figure. And, jesus, Melissa…look at you.”

To that, Melissa blushed. It’s not that it was a surprise, the more…maternal aspects of her appearance being pointed out. She’d been called “mommy” by online admirers more times than she could count.

“I’d say soften up on him, calm his anxieties like only a woman can. It will get you what you want. If he’s scared, afraid that things are changing? Use that. He likes your boobs as much as you say? Great. You guys are supposed to be going out this weekend? Don't go out, stay in. Give him a night with your breasts.”

Melissa snorted. But then pictured it, how she could steer the evening, what she could wear. Omigod I could make him melt. “Like, a date with my boobs?”

“Haha sure a boob date,” Abby laughed, “that’s, like, every man’s dream, these days. He’s been nervous about you being strong with him, when you get excited? Show him how gentle you can be. You already take care of him in so many ways. Show him just how much of a mother figure you already are, and what things could be like.”

Melissa giggled, again, with the thought of it. She pictured herself in an apron, pumps and a beehive, pulling a tray of cookies from the oven. He was sat at the table like a little boy, a glass of milk - strike that, a bottle of milk - on his…haha omigod…high chair. 

“You know what I’m talking about, right?” Abby asked.

“Sure, yes, right,” Melissa answered, biting her lower lip in the arousal she was already feeling. Was it getting hot in here haha? “Lakshmi says he’s feeling a little ignored. I didn’t want that. I had just wanted to give him some space, let him process things, not freak him out by being too…me,” she continued, “but maybe…”

“I think what he wants is for you to be the most ‘you’ you can be,” Abby pressed, seeing how she could salvage this situation, “He doesn’t want to be ignored? You have a lot of love for him? Smother him with it. Drown him in comfort. Show him he’ll never be ignored again.”

“Oh wow, Abby,” Melissa breathed, fanning herself with her napkin, “I could drown him so good…”

“Yes you could,” Abby encouraged.

”And he likes me big, he wants me bigger, I can tell,” Melissa added, “And now…I want to do it for him. Grow. Grow more.”

“You know what they’re saying in the labs, right? About you?” Abby spoke, leaning in and dropping her voice, “You have the potential to grow much, much bigger.” This was starting to work out really, really well.

“Yes oh god yes Abby,” Melissa replied, caught up in the plans, “He’s nervous, about the changes? I can show him that he needs protection. I can show him how nice it could be for him with women in charge.”

“You’re so sweet and caring…”

“I can be sweet and caring. I can be kind, gentle, considerate…”

“Yes,” Abby continued, “You’ve already proven you’re big. You’ve proven you can physically dominate him so easily. But looking after him, protecting him, caring for him? That’s what he needs right now. That's something you must constantly show.”

Melissa forked forcefully into an olive, a slice of pepper, and thought back to gentle moments with him, how hard and quivery she’d made him. “He likes it when I´m kind…very much…” She then thought to herself, as she imagined his face: You like it kind? Then I´ll give you kind. She chuckled to herself, finding how aggressive she’d become with her salad. “I want to be a comfort to him, I do,” she said, “but I think he kinda likes it both ways.”

“Sure sure,” Abby encouraged, “men can be funny like that. We’ve all got to realize that the old stereotypes are breaking down, roles are reversing. Men now like us to show them the rough, take-charge lovemaking. They want to be dominated, they want us to toss them around like rag dolls. Men are at the gym less, women more. Secretly they want to be, like, brutalized, made to feel small and weak and terrified of us. But then, they’re needy and - you’re right - then they want us as Mommy to comfort them.”

“Oh godddd Abby,” Melissa laughed, “stop you’re going to make me burst. I just want to boink him.”

“Haha nothing wrong with that,” Abby replied with a glimmer in her eyes, “When you’re in a relationship it’s just important to understand the other persons feelings. He’s like all men these days. What he really wants and needs is a mommy girlfriend.”

She knew this. 

“He needs the comfort, the protection. But also the guidance, the discipline. He needs someone to tell him what to do, reward him when he does what you want, and sometimes punish him when he disappoints you.” 

Abby watched her friend nodding, absorbing her advice, and continued. “I do it with the guy I’m dating, ” Abby said to Melissa, “Like, when we’re alone, just at home, I make sure to praise the little things he does, cleaning up after himself, wearing an outfit I like. It makes him feel good and it helps, it helps solidify our roles.”

“Jay does like that sort of thing too…” Melissa offered, nodding. 

“And I make sure he feels dependent on me, too,” Abby continued, deciding to allow herself another slice of the bread on the table, “Like, I make more money then him, and I want him to know it. When we go out in public, for example. Usually, I’ll either pay for whatever we plan on spending money on that day or make him pay for his stuff with my money if we are buying little things for him.”

“ooo yes I can do that!” Melissa giggled, remembering how good it felt to pay for his dinner. 

“For instance, a shirt that we just bought for him. We were at Hera’s. He carried it all around the store and all the way up to the register. I let him do that all by himself,” Abby began, “When we went to check out, I opened my purse and handed him my card, the cashier standing right in front of us, people watching. That part’s really

important, that he knows others are seeing it happen.”

“Was he embarrassed?” Melissa asked, feeling like she should be taking notes. 

“A little. But I talked him through it, how to slide the card into the machine. And I signed for it of course, telling him he’d done a good job. He liked that.”

Melissa giggled. She hadn’t met Abby’s new boyfriend yet but he sounded like a keeper. 

“And so,” Abby continued, shifting herself in her seat on the leather bench, “it all looks innocent enough to the person behind the register, the other people in the store, but him just knowing what was going to take place with that shirt and having to buy it with mommy’s money was really powerful. It’s just little things like that.”

“God I want to drive back to the office and take him shopping with me right now,” Melissa laughed. 

“Haha yeah I loved every minute of it,” Abby conceded, “and I think he did too.” At that, she leaned in, over her plate of chilled pasta and crusty bread, to commiserate with her asset. On cue, Melissa leaned in too. “And then, in the parking lot, after getting him seated, fastening his seatbelt for him, I gave him a quickie.”

“A handjob?” Melissa laughed, catching herself snorting too loudly. 

“Yeah a little reward, for being so good,” Abby smiled, leaning back again with a satisfied smile, “just like you’re going to reward him, this weekend, for doing everything mommy says…”

===============================

yes I have one

#growing into the job

[goatcheesecak3]

Gavin's Diary

Gavin Ellis x F!Reader

Fic type: angst

Warnings: police violence, gun violence, coma, organised crime

Summary: Gavin reflects on the mistakes he's made in his diary, as he wonders what the future might hold for him and y/n

Y/N got fucked up. And it’s my fault. I roped Ray into some bullshit, even though she warned me not to. Ray is okay now, thank god, somehow he managed to go ten full days without spilling his guts – metaphorically and literally. He says he forgives me, but I still feel awful. That’s why I told that cop, I told him everything, and I begged him to give Ray immunity. I didn’t care if I went down for it, I just wanted to get him out of the mess I made. Well, turns out that was just another thing I fucked up, because it got the love of my life hurt.

I stood on the rooftop with Detective Paris, and told him the whole plan. I told him the part I played and I even gave him Pat’s name, and he told me I would be okay. I believed him. Why the fuck did I believe a cop? Staring down into the motel car park, I pointed out the car of the man who’d been sent there to kill me.

“you won’t have to worry about him anymore” were the last words I heard before my balance was thrown off, a firm slap to my back sent me lunging forwards. My life flashed before my eyes, before I realised I had stopped falling. Desperate, clamouring hands had gripped onto any part of me that they could, and pulled me back over the ledge and onto the roof once more. The screams, those awful screams could very well have been the last thing I heard from y/n, as she held my body, which was now limp with fear, kicking and shouting at the cop to get away. She had followed me there. Smart as ever, of course y/n had known that what she had always referred to as a “Gav plan” would fall through. She was always looking out for me. As if saving my life wasn’t enough, she was willing to sacrifice her own for me, shielding my body with her own as gunshots rang out.

All this commotion was enough to get the attention of the other cops in the building, as they dashed upstairs to find Detective Paris pointing a gun at y/n and me. None of the bullets had hit me, I was, somehow, entirely unscathed. I couldn’t say the same for y/n. She lay motionless, one bullet in her thigh, another in her back. Being as incredible as she always was, y/n had a tape recorder in her pocket, it had documented the entire altercation – all while she was creeping up on me and the cop, right until the paramedics later found it on her person. By some miracle, none of the bullets or blood had gotten to it. Needless to say, Detective Paris has been arrested.

The lawyer who had been assigned to Ray’s case has decided to take y/n and I on as clients too, she’s a nice lady, and I can tell she’s invested in the wellbeing of everyone involved. So far, it’s looking good for me on the legal front, there’s physical proof that I cooperated, and that I was assaulted by an officer. It’s looking like all my charges will be dropped if I agree to keep my mouth shut about what happened. I can’t say the same for y/n, though. Legally, obviously she’s fine, but she’s been in a medically induced coma for a week now and I can’t put into words how scared I am for her.

I’ve visited her every day for the last week, just sitting by her side, holding her hand and reading her poetry. I’m not sure if she can hear me, but I hope that if she can it’s brought her some type of comfort. It’s funny, I never really got the poems and books she enjoyed before, but now they’re the only things that comfort me. There’s this one poem by a guy called Thomas Hardy, it’s about his cat dying. Y/n always loved that one, and now I think I do too, I don’t know, I guess it reminds me of her or something.

I suppose that brings me to the present. The hospital called about an hour ago, an said y/n’s finally awake and in a stable condition. I’m writing this from the hospital waiting room, knowing that these may well be the last few moments I can kid myself that y/n and I are still together, I doubt she wants anything to do with me anymore after everything I’ve put her through. Still, y/n being alive and healthy whilst hating me is better than her dying because she loved someone as fucked up as I am.

I think the nurse is calling me now, wish me luck.

A/N i've got an idea for a part 2 to this, so let me know if anyone wants it!

#the mule gavin #gavin ellis x reader #gavin ellis #gavin the mule #the mule 2014 #the mule #leigh whannel #saw 2004 #angus sampson #adam stanheight #x f!reader #angst #fanfic #fanfiction #x yn #x you

[ljxlj48]

Sure, you're scared, I've been there. I can set you free!

Jaehyun X Reader

Genre: toxic relationship

Warnings: Mature themes, abusive relationship, toxic behavior, gaslighting

Word Count: 800+

Author's Note: this one is way shorter than I wanted it to be, because I didn't know what to do anymore. sorry guys, but I hope you enjoy even though it's short. hugs and kisses to anyone reading <3

Also if you ever find yourself in this situation or in a similar situation, I highly encourage you to seek help.

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

“Jae you promised you would go with me,” you whined at Jaehyun, as he sat on the couch not bothering to get ready. 

“Baby, I didn’t say that,” Jaehyun swore that he never made any promise to go with you.  

“Yes you did,” you were beginning to get more frustrated, you already knew you were gonna be late. “Get ready please so we can go.” 

“I can’t, I already told the boys they could come over and watch the game, it starts in an hour,” Jaehyun argued back. 

“I really need you at this event with me,” your eyes began to water, at how frustrated you were getting.  “You promised,” you whispered out. 

“Y/n, I wouldn’t promise you anything for tonight, because I knew the game was on,” Jaehyun argued, getting frustrated with you as well.

“I swear you told me you would go with me, I told you about this event weeks ago,” you looked toward the ceiling not wanting to ruin your makeup that you spent a great deal of time on. 

“Must’ve been your other boyfriend,” Jaehyun said with a shake of his head.

“Jaehyun that’s not funny right now,” you snapped, “just tell the boys that they can’t come over and come with me, please.” 

“No,” Jaehyun snapped back at you, “why is it I always have to cancel my plans to accommodate you, why can’t you cancel your plans for me?” 

“I have, on many occasions,” you argued, recalling the multiple times you canceled lunches, dinner parties, birthday events, social gathering because of Jaehyun. 

“I don’t recall a single time when you canceled any of your plans to be with me,” Jaehyun said with a little taunt. 

“Jaehyun I have constantly put you above everyone else, I am asking you to do the same for me this one time,” 

“You’re always making me go with you to things, like-“

“Like when?  When have I ever made you come to an event when you didn’t want to besides right now?” 

“Matt’s birthday party,” Jaehyun offered an example. 

“I said I would go to Matt’s party alone, that you didn’t need to come,” 

“No, you said ‘come with me to Matt’s birthday party, Jae’” Jaehyun mocked your voice and actions. 

“That’s true,” you shook your head, as you could vividly recall that evening.  That evening when you told Jaehyun that he didn’t need to come, that you were just gonna say ‘happy birthday,’ drop off a gift and come home.  Jaehyun insisted on coming with you, he insisted on staying for one drink, he was the one that said he was having a good time, stay a little longer. 

“It is true, you never gave me an option that night,” Jaehyun argued. 

“That’s not true,” you said softer this time, trying to hold onto your memory. 

“Baby,” Jaehyun came up in front of you kneeling to be eye level with you, “have you been taking your medicine?”  You were on anti-anxiety medication.  

“Of course I am,” you made sure you never missed a day.  Your medication was the on thing that got you through the day.  Which you always thought was odd because you never had anxiety growing up, it’s only been these past few years that it’s gotten bad. 

“Are you sure baby?” Jaehyun asked sweetly, as he went over towards the kitchen counter to look at your pill box.  “All the days are still filled,” Jaehyun said examine the box. 

“That’s not true,” you said firmly, in your belief that you took your medication this morning.  You made your way towards Jaehyun, grabbing the box from his hand, seeing all the days that you were supposed to take your medication still filled.  “That’s not right,” yo said softly, “I swear I’ve been taking them.” 

“Baby you need to try to be on top of these, you know what can happen when you don’t take your meds,” Jaehyun said in a soft scolding manner. 

“I know, that’s why I’m sure I’ve been taking them,” you said, clearly devastated, “I thought I was taking them.” 

“I don’t think you should be going to your event tonight,” Jaehyun said, as he opened a box for you, and got a glass of water. 

“But it’s a work event, I can’t miss it,” you said, taking the glass and pill from Jaehyun.  

“Your health is more important than your work right now babe,” Jaehyun said, taking the glass from you, before writing on a post-it that you took our medication today.  “I’m sure your job will understand, we don’t even know how long you haven’t been taking your meds.” 

“Okay,” you felt like pieces of your world were missing.  You didn’t even know if you could trust your own mind anymore.  You couldn’t tell the difference between what happened and what didn’t anymore.  You felt yourself slowly going insane tonight. 

“I know you’re scared, baby,” Jaehyun said with that smile, and those eyes.  Those comforting eyes.  “I’ve been there before, I can help you,” Jaehyun reassured you once again.  And those eyes, those comforting eyes.  They put your heart at ease.  They stopped your mind from racing.  Those eyes, they were telling you ‘it's gonna be okay.’

#first #five #tags #dont #work #kpop #smtown #NCT #NCT 2021 #NCT U #NCT 127 #NCT Jaehyun #jung jaehyun #jaehyun fanfic #jaehyun imagines #jaehyun reaactions #jaehyun scenarios #jaehyun angst #jaehyun toxic #nct imagines #nct reactions #nct series #nct scenarios #nct #nct u #nct dream #nct 2021

[paperstorm]

Yes I’m sorry, that’s what I meant going from fire to Emt!

Yes I definitely think TK talked about it before making the decision. It was such a hard choice for him because he was so worried his dad would be disappointed, and he's in a vulnerable place, and Carlos is such a steady and calming and tender presence in his life especially during that time when TK was spinning out. I did deal with in my series, you mentioned that in the last ask, below the cut is how I wrote it <3

“What did you want to talk about?”

TK presses his lips together and drops his gaze for a moment. It feels dangerous to even be considering it, but he figures if there’s anywhere on earth he can do that, it’s right here.

“I. Um.”

“It’s been a really rough week, huh?” Carlos asks sympathetically.

His eyes are so big, such dark endless pools that TK can see the frowning reflection of his own face in them. He places a quick kiss to Carlos’s lips and tells him, “I’ll be right back.”

“Okay.”

TK climbs off of him. He scoops his underwear off the floor and pulls them on before he heads downstairs, for the bag he left by the door. He unzips it and finds the application.

Back in the bedroom he hands it to Carlos and then goes around to the other side of the bed, sitting beside him against the headboard. He watches as Carlos turns it right side up in his hands and reads the information on the header of the page.

His brow crumples into a frown. “You don’t want to be a firefighter anymore?” he asks, looking at TK.

TK exhales and looks at his hands. “Do you think it’s a bad idea?”

“No. Not if it’s what you want.”

“I’ve always been better at the medical stuff anyway,” TK says honestly. “I don’t know, it seems to just stick in my head.”

“You’re brilliant,” Carlos tells him, bumping his shoulder against TK’s.

TK smiles a little.

Carlos takes another look at the form. “The 126 is hiring to replace Tim?”

TK nods. “They’ve been looking. Nobody’s worked out yet. The guy they’ve got right now refused to go into that field today, that’s how I ended up there in the first place. So I can’t see him lasting much longer. I think … maybe I could be really good at it.”

“Then what’s the hesitation?”

When TK doesn’t answer right away, Carlos sets the application on the nightstand and raises his arm, giving TK a spot to lean against his chest. TK snuggles into him, wrapping his arm around Carlos’s waist. Carlos kisses his forehead.

“I became a firefighter to impress my dad,” TK admits. He’s admitting a lot of things, this week, and he’s pleasantly surprised by how okay that feels. He could tell Carlos just about anything, he thinks, and TK’s never had that before. He’s so much more accustomed to parceling out the little bits of himself that he thinks people will find the least annoying.

Carlos rubs his arm gently. “I’m not a stranger to that feeling.”

“I know.” TK kisses the warm skin under his cheek.

“Go on.”

“He always used to say his crew back in New York was his family. He’d use it as a reason he couldn’t come to my hockey game or the science fair or whatever, because they were his family. As if I wasn’t.”

Carlos sighs quietly.

“I don’t think I realized it’s what I was doing, at the time. I convinced myself I’d always wanted to be a firefighter. But I don’t think that was true, I think I was just … trying to find a way to get Dad to see me.”

“And now?”

“It’s not like I hate it. I wouldn’t have stuck with it this long if I didn’t like the job. But maybe I’d like this new job better. I could always switch back, if I’m wrong.”

“But?” Carlos pushes gently, when TK is silent for another long moment.

“What if I’m just – reacting?” TK asks. “Because my divorced parents are having a baby in their 50s, and Judd tried to teach me to drive an engine a few days ago and I was really shitty at it, and …”

“And what?”

TK closes his eyes and tucks his face into Carlos’s neck. “He said he’s going to be a father.”

“Your dad?”

“Yeah. The other day. He’s finally scheduling the surgery I’ve been bugging him about for months, because I’m going to be a father.”

“Going to be,” Carlos repeats, understanding and a tinge of sorrow in his voice.

“I’ve just … I’ve never been … enough.”

Carlos’s arm tightens around him. With his other hand he tucks a crooked finger underneath TK’s chin and lifts it, gently asking TK to look at him. There’s so much empathy swimming in his dark eyes, and TK knows how intimately Carlos understands this exact feeling.

Repeating what he’d said the other day, in a soft voice he promises, “You are more than enough for me.”

TK smiles as Carlos leans in to kiss his forehead.

“But I understand why that doesn’t fix this.”

“I know you do.”

Carlos wraps both arms around him and rests his cheek against TK’s forehead. Quietly, he says, “Maybe it is a reaction, but that doesn’t mean it’s a bad reaction. Maybe all this just helped you realize you want this.”

“Maybe.”

“I’ve seen you on medical calls, TK. You’re amazing.”

“Thanks.”

“I mean it. You’re never panicked, you help keep people calm, you have all this complicated information in your head and you can remember it all in crazy moments. You make it look so easy, when I know it’s not.”

TK squeezes his eyes shut, the praise washing over him and warming him from the inside.

“You’d be so good at this. You’d help so many people.”

“Should I apply?”

“Do you want to?”

“Yes,” TK says, thinking about it only for a second and finding the certainty he was looking for.

“Then yes.”

“You won’t be disappointed?”

“In you? Never.”

“Not even because paramedics don’t do sexy calendars like firefighters do?”

Carlos laughs and jostles him playfully. “Man, you’re right, that is a bummer. Luckily for me, I get to see you all sexy any time I want.”

TK lifts his head, looking up into Carlos’s smiling face. “Thank you.”

It feels like he’s thanking Carlos for a lot of things, and TK can’t name them all in this moment so he hopes Carlos just understands.

“Of course.” Carlos kisses him. “Always.”

#911ls asks

[brilapse]

Hi guys…..

So this is extremely embarrassing for me to admit but I really need help. I was recently diagnosed with hep c….. I would have had it for going on 7 years now…. Long story short, I am appalled with my doctor. When I first got clean in Jan 2017, I was tested, now it may have been to early then but sometime in 2020, I just started to feel generally unwell all of the time. Tired no matter what, low energy levels, achey, headaches, etc. Then my stomach issues started. There was a time period I was waking up sick af every day, throwing up pure stomach acid multiple times a day for months, then it kind of subsided and was probably three times a week, and it’s been like that since then. I still get “attacks” (I call them- pain and crazy nausea) every damn day. My energy levels the past year has all but plummeted. Like, I am nearly DONE for the day after showering, they are that bad.

I was complaining to my doctor. In the past 3 years, I’ve had bloodwork done 4-5 times, and not ONCE did she include the test. When she said she was going to test me for “everything”, I’m fucking sorry but I assumed she meant EVERY disease, etc. apparently fucking not. The only reason we caught it now is because I got a new methadone dr and she actually took the time to go through my medical chart and history and brought it up. So yeah, we did the test and, unfortunately it was positive.

The fact that I have been feeling so god damn bad all of the time and it was not caught, and could have been and no one thought to bring it up with my history. That’s another thing, I’m so damn unlucky I guess. When I say that I was METICULOUS about being clean and using new stuff every time during my active addiction, it was borderline ocd… but there was ONE time. ONE time that I KNOW is when this happened. I have some trauma from the time I was in active addiction…. I ended up literally homeless and unfortunately I didn’t have anything or anyone, no support… and I ended up tangled up with this one guy I put my trust in… mostly because I had no choice. He was not a good guy. Without going into details, I literally had to escape essentially and I feared for my life. I was held at gun point a few times… he was psycho and had major anger issues. Anyways. There was one time, I was on day 3 of withdrawals, and anyone who had been through them when you’re an IV user of Fentanyl… you know it’s literal hell. I wouldn’t be able to begin to tell you what it feels like. You would not be able to fathom it. There is a reason people do crazy things to get their “fix” … you’re not thinking about anything other than feeling okay again. You’re in hell and every horrible symptom you could think of, you’re experiencing. Anyways, I finally got some stuff and I didn’t have any clean things. I could barely move or walk. Didn’t have a car or money to get there. Begged him to go for me. He would not leave me alone because again, he basically held me hostage and did not have any of his “guys” around to watch me. There was another girl that came by to pay him “his cut”…. (Yeah you can imagine what he did..) and she had some stuff but all used. She swore she didn’t have anything- which, she may of not known. Fine. And I was DESPERATE and also suicidal at the time. I thought ok, this ONCE. I boiled water and even cleaned it out… and even if you don’t do that, the transmission rate is approx 10-20%, it’s not 100% guaranteed. So I thought ok just one time, if I clean it out, I should be okay.

Evidently not.

So yeah… I don’t want to talk about any more of that time in my life… I’ve been clean seven years now. Doing well… well, I was, until about a year ago when I started to get really sick. I got laid off a job and was really struggling financially and then got a new one, and now my hours are cut and way lower than when I started, so I’ve been dealing with that. Barely surviving the past few weeks.

NOW… I started treatment this week. 8 weeks. 3 pills a day… but the thing is, the side effects can be hard on some people and because of my stomach issues, we already know it’s gonna be hard on me and it’s already been BAD the past two days….and it’s gonna be a ROUGH 8 weeks. Now, it’s obviously worth it, to have a 95% chance of curing myself and go back to a normal life and feel motivated and normal again. ACTUALLY HAVE ENERGY!!!!!!!!!

I can’t work though during these 8 weeks and I am going to have zero income. I don’t have EI sickness because I had to use it last year when I got really sick. Since my hours were cut, and went to part time status, I don’t have benefits.

I got a new full time position that is supposed to start March 4th but I have to start the April training class start date instead now… I literally will not be able to do it. I am going to be in bed for 8 weeks and resting essentially.

That brings me to this….. my bills are already high and up there because of my hours being cut and only being able to pay the bare minimum on them. I am literally going to get my heat cut off and internet and cell probably. I cannot afford food, but at least I’ll be given ensure or boost with my meds from the pharmacy.

That’s another thing. The treatment is 40k Luckily the compassionate care program with the government covered 90% of it- but the other 10%, my dad had to help. I can’t ask him for any thing or any money after that…. I’m just.

If any of you would be able to help me out during this time, it would be so much appreciated ❤️

ANYthing you can do and send my PayPal… I will be so grateful.

& when I’m up and running again after treatment, when I’m not sick af all the time and i actually have energy again… I will start my OF again and make it free for a couple months. I was debating doing that to help right now but when I tell you I have ZERO energy… I have ZERO. and that combined with the side effects and feeling just so shitty and migraines from the meds… I just, I can barely do anything.

I’m just… I’m at my wits end. I’ve never not seen even a SMALL light at the end of the tunnel but I’m not seeing any lately….

Thanks guys.

Love B ❤️

#mine #my post #me #personal #my life #myself #personal post #paypal #donate if you can #please help #send help #help #please donate #donate #hep c #medical #mental health #healthcare #recovery #addiction

[sl-newsie]

Cool Your Jets- Ch. 2: Meet the Jets (Riff x newcomer)

After I finish unpacking my few possessions from my chest I decide to go out to pick up some produce for an attempt at making dinner. A few blocks down I find a Puerto Rican marketplace with a wide variety of vibrant-colored fruits and vegetables. I find some tomatoes, peppers, apples, bananas, and even cave in for a fresh pineapple as a treat. I think my foist day’s going well…

“Stop! Stop right there!”

A police siren blares past as I walk further away from the Puerto Rican neighborhood, and I know I’ll probably regret it but curiosity’s get’n the best-a me. I quickly follow the source-a the commotion to a part of town that appears… literally torn apart. Construction workers and equipment are scattered everywhere around crumbling buildings. Lovely.

“Hey you! Stop!”

I look around but the yell is not directed at me. Instead I follow it to an alley where two big groups of boys seem to be facing off- a group of whites and a group of Puerto Ricans. I keep my distance, and soon the cops and the Puerto Ricans leave, which leaves the white boys and a detective.

I cautiously peek out from behind a brick pile and see some boys crowd’n around a shorter boy, one with- a nail in his ear?!

“Whoa whoa whoa! What happened?” I step in front-a the officer, set down my grocery bag, and examine the boy’s ear. “Ouch. That’s godda hurt. Hold on a sec-” I reach into my purse, pull out some gauze, and begin to wrap his ear.

“Why not just yank it out?” A boy asks.

“Because if you just yank it out, then the bleeding will increase and only make it worse.” I say as I finish up. “You need to keep it in place until he can get to a medical professional.”

Anodda boy scoffs. “Girly, we don’t got enough dough to see no doctor. Just let us handle it and don’t worry your pretty little head over it.”

At this I whip my head to look at a boy with a tank top and gray vest, and notice he’s got dark paint stain’n his hands.

“Who are you?” I ask coldly.

“Who are you, girly?” He snickers. “I know a pretty goil when I see one, and I ain’t ever seen you before.”

I press my lips togedda and try to recover. “Name’s Marilyn Jackson, just moved from upstate. First day here and I’m already caught up in trouble. So I ask again: who are you?”

The guy tilts his head and cocklily struts up. “Riff, leader of the Jets.”

I squint. There’s that name again. “The what?”

“The Jets. The biggest gang in the West Side.” Anodda boy calls. 

“The greatest!” Riff nods. 

Oh. Great.

“So girly, what brings you to the West Side?”

“Dead folks. You?” Blunt, straight, and to-the-point.

Riff seems taken aback, but regains his posture. “Sorry for the loss, doll. Lot’ve us here got dead folks, so we get it. We’s here to keep the West Side clear of all them PRs.”

“Huh?”

“The Puerto Ricans.”

I gape. “Why? What’s so wrong with them?”

One boy laughs. “They’ve been take’n our turf, that’s what’s wrong.”

“There’s enough territory for everyone. Hell, out west there’s land that hasn’t even been built on! So don’t go tell’n me there’s not enough room. The Puerto Ricans I’ve met so far are the nicest people I've ever known! ” I sneer, which gets a chuckle out’ve Riff.

“Wow, girly. You got some bite to ya. Last time I saw somebody talk to Action like that they got a black eye.”

“Why don’t he do that now?” I dare.

“‘Cause my boys know how to treat a lady.”

I grunt. “I ain’t no ‘lady,’ Jet Boy. I’m just a goil look’n to make a live’n.”

Riff goes to say someth’n, but then the Jet called Action says: “C’mon, Riff. You told us Tony’d be at the dance, so go tell ‘im!”

“Cool it, Action. Foist we gotta introduce the newcomer,” Riff smirks as he places a hand behind my back to walk me forward. A gesture that makes me stiffen and my heartbeat skip.

“This here’s Action, Ice, A-Rab, Mouthpiece, Diesel, and you’ve already met Baby John.”

Each Jet snickers and after the brief introduction I hear a wolf whistle behind me. Riff jerks his head and sneers at the one called Ice.

“You want a lesson in manners, Ice? You know the rules.” He offers a hand, to which I respond with a raised eyebrow. But eventually I take it. “Sorry ‘bout that, doll. Normally the Jets are on their best behavior.”

“I gotta say, in the country we know how to treat each odda.” I smirk.

He smirks. “So, you’re new here. I could take you on a tour, if ya want.”

“You’d do that? What a gentleman,” I snicker. “Luv to take the offer, but I gotta get home for dinner.”

Riff smiles. “Got a hot date?”

I roll my eyes. “Oh, yeah.” I hold up my grocery bag. “Hot date for one.”

“I’m surprised- pretty goil like you could get a guy real quick-”

“Hey, Riff!”

A skinny blonde girl comes up and wraps her arms around his neck to kiss his cheek. When she sees me her eyes narrow and her smile falters.

“Who’s the newbie?”

Me being the mature one, I stick out my hand in greeting. “Hi, I’m Marilyn. I just moved here from upstate and I was get’n groceries when I… had the opportunity to meet the Jets.”

She shakes my hand and gives me a pointed look. “I’m Graziella. And for the record, he’s all mine.” She taps Riff’s chin.

I hold up my hands. “Hey, I don’t wanna tussle, I’s just try’n to live a life that ain’t mine. So hi, goodbye.”

I pick up my bag and begin walk’n back, and I realize now just how off my grammar is. Wow, only one day and I’m already talk’n like a city goil.

“Hey wait!”

I turn and see Mouthpiece trotting up.

“Unless you’re gonna threaten me too or act as if I’m a crazy hick, then leave.” I point him away.

“Now don’t be like that. Grazi’s really a nice goil-”

“A smiling bitch is more like it,” I mudda.

“Just hear me out! Would you wanna go to the dance tonight?” The blonde asks.

I stiffen. “Dance?”

“Yeah, the Dog Days dance. It’s tonight at the school gym and… I wanted to ask ya.”

I grunt. “Yeah, so you punks can toss me around too.”

“Hey! We ain’t-”

I bite my lip. “I’ll consider it, but I’ve already had a hard day. Ya know, have’n to get through the grief of lose’n my parents and move’n to a big city all alone. So excuse me if I wanna have a quiet evening alone to go with it.”

I ignore Mouthpiece’s scrambled woids and continue to walk back to my new home. Leaving the crumble’n buildings and see’n hear’n the familiar Spanish chatter makes me feel safe, and when I get back to my apartment I come across some Puerto Rican boys headed for Anita’s apartment- ones that look very familiar.

“Hey! You’re the Sharks leader. I saw you guys earlier.”

The one called Bernardo gives me a sharp look. “You live here? Why? You’re not like us-”

“Leave her alone, Bernardo!” The door opens and Maria comes out with her hands on her hips. “She’s not like them. She’s from out of town, so she’s new here, same as us.”

“She was with those Jets!”

Maria looks at me and I wave it off. “I saw some cops clear off a fight and they happened to see me.”

“What did you think of them?” Maria asks.

“Well… They’re a bit rambunctious compared to back home-”

“A bit rambunctious?! Those punks hate us just because we want turf of our own!” Bernardo gets in my face.

“Bernardo! Leave her alone!” Maria shoves him away. “Anita’s all ready for the dance and we’ve been waiting!”

She drags him and the other boy inside, leaving me in an empty hallway. So I head inside my apartment and begin to cook up some vegetables.

“Knock knock.”

“Jesus!” I nearly drop my plate. I look over at the window by my bed and see a head poking in.

“Riff?”

It is Riff, standing on the fire escape!

“What the Hell-?!” I scream, then remember where I am and lower my voice. “What the Hell are ya doing here?!”

“Will ya let me in foist?”

I gawk. “No! I ain’t gonna let some creep I just met into my house- I mean apartment!” I dig the 22-pistol outta the kitchen drawer and cock it. “Now tell me why you’re here!”

Riff’s eyes go wide and he holds up his hands. “Jeez, doll! Put that thing down before ya kill somebody!”

“Oh, please. I’m from the country- I learned to shoot a gun when I was 5. Now tell me, Riff-”

“You remember my name!” He smirks.

“Why are you here?!” I scream.

There’s a knock on the door. “Marilyn? Are you ok?”

I set the gun down and go over to crack the door open.

“Yeah, Maria I- um, just burnt my hand!”

“Ay! Are you hurt?”

“No, no I’m fine! Um… I hoid someone say there’s a dance tonight?”

She nods eagerly. “Si, si! I’m so excited! I normally don’t go to social events but for some reason this one feels special!” Maria grins.

“Could I go too, or is it through invitation?”

“No, anyone can come. It’s a social mix event, but you hardly know anyone. Do you have a date?”

“No. But what does that matter? Back where I’m from I’d go to dances by myself all the time, and still have just as much fun. Girls would dance in groups and not give a guy a second thought!”

“I guess so. If you feel comfortable.”

“Then it’s settled. Tonight I’m going to my foist city dance!”

“Ok- see you there!”

I wave a good-bye and shut the door, only to find Riff sitting on my bed!

“Hey!” I grab the gun and hold it steady. “Get off-a there!”

“Hey, I don’t wanna intrude. I’s just wonder’n if you’s go’n to the dance tonight.”

“Foist of all, how do you know where I live? Second, why the Hell do you care? And third, how do you know where I live?!”

“I know ‘cause I sent Baby John to follow you. Why the heck’re y live’n with a bunch-a PRs? Second, I care ‘cause I want you to feel welcomed here. Thirdly, see foistly.”

I groan. “Real mature, Riff. Spy’n on me, huh? I’s live’n here ‘cause it’s cheap and the neighborhood ain’t a demilitarized zone. The Puerto Ricans are people just like you and me, and they’ve helped me get settled. It’s sweet you want me to fit in but I got bigger problems than that, such as pay’n rent. But if you must know, I will be there.”

His eyes light up. “Really? That’s great! I know Grazi was be’n a bit rough on ya, but she don’t bite.”

I grunt as I go on fix’n my dinner. “We’ll see. But just- please leave and let me eat in peace.”

Riff strides over and plops down on the chair opposite me. “I mean it, Marilyn . I know what it’s like to lose your folks, so if you ever need to talk about it-”

“I’ll think of you last. Now will ya leave?”

“No, I really mean it. If you need to talk about it, just hunt me down.”

“Not if you hunt me down foist, Jet Boy. Now shoo!” I usher him out towards the window and just before he heads down the ladder he looks up with hopeful eyes.

“So you’ll be there?”

“Yes. Now go!” I roll my eyes.

“See ya soon, beautiful.”

I shut the curtains before he can see my blush. Beautiful? He’s gotta be kidding!

#riff west side story #west side story anybodys #west side story baby john #west side story imagine #west side story x reader #tony west side story #maria west side story #anita west side story #bernardo west side story #riff west side story x reader #mouthpiece west side story #west side story mouthpiece