#but it's still enough that i consider it done

[not-neverland06]

How About a Nuke?

Part VIII / Part IX

(Completed) Series Masterlist

Cooper Howard x fem!reader, The ghoul x fem!reader A/N: PLEASE READ, we have reached the end of their journey and I am so sad/happy/excited about it. I don’t even know how to feel honestly. I just want to thank everyone who has commented, messaged or reblogged this story. Your kind words and funny little depressed memes have been really uplifting for me. I was actually considering just giving up on this blog when I posted the first chapter. I haven’t had much inspiration lately or interaction I feel like, and you all have helped reignite that spark within me. Summary: There’s something keeping you tied to Cooper Howard, an invisible string wrapped around you both. You’ve fought against it as long as you could but he’s not gonna let you fight for much longer.

It’s been a month and the bounty on her head gets bigger everyday. Normally the compound hires privately, they don’t like going through the agencies. He figures with Sylvie dead they’re struggling to find a new leader and they’re falling apart. Or they’re just desperate for her head on a stick. 

He sees her face everywhere, crudely drawn images of her varying in their accuracy. In some she has a hat like his on, in others her nose is the wrong shape, or her eyes are all wrong. No one seems to have a good grasp on who she is. Out of curiosity and a strange need to know she’s still alive, he’s asked around. 

There are different rumors as to where she’s hiding out. Some think she’s taken to hiding out in the caves near Filly. Anyone with half a brain knows that the area’s overrun by irradiated bears and other mutated freaks. 

There are those that say they’ve seen her wandering through the sands. Following that lead had led him nowhere. He doesn’t know where she is and it’s driving him insane. She’s like a constant itch in the back of his mind that he just can’t scratch. Days and nights are spent thinking about her and he hates it. 

He’s not sure what he’d do when he does find her. Whether he’d shoot her to repay the favor or just tie her up to keep her from leaving again. He’s conflicted on how he feels about her. He’s bothered that he feels anything towards her at all. And he knows that when she shot him, she was shooting to kill. 

She had no way of knowing that he would heal from that bullet. She’d watched him bleed out on the ground and left him for dead. He was impressed, as much as he wanted to be mad, he was almost proud in a way. 

Throughout their tumultuous lives and times together she’d always had to be guided by him. He’d shown her the ways of whatever world they were living in. She’d relied on him and he enjoyed it. The time had to come when eventually she wouldn’t need him anymore. 

It’s outside of Filly that he finds the most accurate poster of her so far. She looks like she did in their first movie together. A proper outlaw, wanted all across the Wastelands for her crimes against a bunch of sick fucks. If he could kill Sylvie again, he would. He’d kill all of them. 

Not that he’s condemning them because of what the compound’s doing. He’s dabbled in organ trade before, eaten people, he’s done a lot of fucked up shit. But he draws the line at trying to hurt her. He’s the only one who should be allowed to fuck with her.

He takes the poster down and whistles softly at the price under her name. It’s enough to keep him happy for a longtime. If he never wanted to take on another bounty he wouldn’t have to. Course, he was never in this for the money. A man’s gotta have something to entertain himself with at the end of the world. 

He wonders if she’s even still alive. Maybe a Deathclaw got her a day after she left him behind. He could have walked past her corpse and never even known it. He folds the poster up and slips it in his bag. He doesn’t know why he bothers keeping it. Possibly because it’s the closest thing to her that he’s got, but he doesn’t feel like lingering on that thought for long. 

He tugs his hat lower on his head and heads through the tunnel leading to Filly. He’s caused a lot of issues here over the years. Usually he kills most of the people who could identify him as an instigator, but he doesn’t feel like pushing his luck today. He needs more supplies and he knows Ma June won’t sell to him if he causes a fight beforehand. 

It’s louder than normal today, more people rushing around. They’re all congregating around something in the center of the marketplace. He turns to the left, heading up the stairs to try and get a better look at what’s got everyone so excited. 

“They found her!” A boy shouts, fidgeting in his spot next to him. He glances at him from under his hat and the boy pales before scurrying away from him. His lips turn up in a cruel grin and he finally gets a good look at what’s happening. 

She’s kneeling in the middle of the marketplace, two Knights on either side of her. He’s more surprised by the fact that she actually has picked up a hat in her time away from him. 

She seems to be playing into the outlaw routine more than he thought she would. 

You’re embarrassed, honestly, that you let these two idiots capture you. Them and their useless little squires. 

You’ve found odd jobs through the Brotherhood when they need assistance looking for relics of the old world. Though, you’re really not sure how much use a toaster oven can be to them, but they pay good money for it. 

Once your bounty was posted and they figured out who you were, though, that stopped being useful. You can’t even hunt bounties because the agencies would just grab you and turn you over to the compound.

They clearly didn’t give a shit about women, you don’t get why they’re making this whole Sylvie situation such a big deal. 

You had to bribe Ma June by buying some of her junk, but eventually she’d helped you find some work in Filly. The people here are stupid enough that they don’t recognize you when they see you. Most of them are high or drunk so the only thing you have to worry about is wandering hands and not stepping in the middle of their brawls. 

From the patrons of the bar you hear stories about yourself. How you slaughtered the entire compound, even the children, which is so far from the truth you can’t help but scoff. Or how you apparently slept with a ghoul and you're carrying his mutant baby. 

You don’t even know where they got that one from. 

They also seem to think you wander through the sands, shooting anyone who gets in your way. It’s a comfort that no one seems to have caught onto you yet. But it’s also disheartening to know that all that’s left of civilization is a bunch of psychopathic idiots. 

What happened to natural selection?

You know your stint in Filly is up when two Knights walk in, their squires struggling to carry their bags behind them. You pull your hat further over your head and duck behind the bar. You try to keep your back to them and let the old man, Marley, who runs the bar deal with them. 

His shaky voice is cautious as he greets them, “What are Knights doing so far out here?”

One of their distorted voices rings out through the, now quiet, bar. “We got bored. Wanted to shoot some shit.”

You roll your eyes and focus on cleaning the cup in front of you. You spit into it, not enough water to properly clean it, and scrub at it with a stained towel. Marley hums, clearly displeased with the answer. You can hear his tottering steps approaching you and wince, praying he’s not going to do what you think he is. 

He tugs on your shirt with a shaky hand and you slump forward in defeat. “Deal with these jackasses,” he mutters, taking drinks over to a different table. 

You pour the only alcohol the bar has into two cups and keep your head down as you approach. “Heard that a woman took over for Knight Damien.”

One of them scoffs and shakes his armored head, “What the fuck is this world coming to?” You don’t know how they’re planning on drinking their liquor with the helmets on but you’re not going to ask stupid questions. You drop the cups in front of them, but your hand slips and one of them tips over into a Knight’s lap. 

“I’ve got it, sire.” Their squire lunges forward and begins vigorously scrubbing their armor. Your face curls up in distaste and you’re about to walk away when a metal hand grips your wrist. 

“Holy shit, it’s her!” Oh, you’re so screwed. 

They’ve got a fucking leash on you, it’s humiliating. The scarred and dirt-covered faces of the citizens of Filly surround you. They’re all leering, shouting at you and begging the Knight’s to share in the bounty. But the Knight’s aren’t listening, they’re just congratulating each other. 

“What do you think they’ll give us?”

One of them shoves their squire and he goes toppling into his large bag, feet flailing in the air. “Hopefully better fucking squires. I’m getting sick of this one’s stupid face.” 

The squire kneels down and shouts in a shaking voice, “I’m sorry if I’ve disappointed you, sire!” God, you really hate these people. You wished they would just shoot you. Having to sit here and listen to them talk was making your brain go numb. 

The Knight’s distorted laugh rings out through his helmet. The other one glances over at you, “What do you think she did? I’ve never seen the compound this pissed off.”

“I dunno. Hey!” You know he’s talking to you, that they want an answer, you really don’t care to give them one. “What’d you do?” They stare at you for a moment and then he sighs when you don’t respond. He shoves his squire towards you and the kid goes stumbling over his feet. “Make her talk.”

He nods rapidly, head bobbing up and down. “Of course, sire.” Your hands twitch to your side and you give him a wicked grin as he approaches. 

He’s debating going down there and trying to help her when the first shot goes off. He doesn’t even see it happen, he just watches as one of the squires drops to the ground. 

Those who don’t want to get caught in the crossfire are quick to move away from the area, hiding in their shops or shoving past him to get through the tunnel. He heads down the stairs, taking his time and trying to figure out where the shot came from. 

The second squire moves towards her and his head flies back, a hole between his eyes and his brains splattering across the ground. One Knight shoves the other one and points at their dead squire’s, “Did you not take her fucking gun?”

He’s been in those suits. He remembers how it felt, the power you get from being in them. How they make you feel like a big man. He also remembers how fucking slow they could be. She’s on her feet and running for cover before they can even start to grab her. 

She dives behind a stall and tugs a knife out of her boot, sawing at the ropes around her wrists. He can’t reach her before the fighting starts. Someone in the remaining crowd shouts, “Grab her! Get the bounty!” And all hell breaks loose. 

Someone runs at him and he shoots them before they can grab him. Shots start going off, the Knight’s mowing down anyone who tries to swoop in on their bounty. Everyone else is shooting blindly, just trying to get rid of the competition so they can claim her bounty as their own. 

He ducks under the hail fire and slides next to her as she’s reloading her gun. She glances over at him and frowns, “Didn’t I kill you?”

He hears a shout and watches as some half-feral woman charges at them. She shoots her dead and turns back to him. He gives her a wry smile, “You want to do this now, sweetheart?”

She peers over her cover and surveys the chaos going on around them. She sighs and glances back at him, “Why aren’t you dead?” 

He tugs one of his specially made bullets out of his bag and loads it into his gun. He lifts himself to his knees and aims at the weak spot on the Knight’s chest plate. They both watch as blood explodes out of the neck of the power armor, the Knight’s friend cussing as he watches him die. 

“Next time,” she turns to look at him, “aim for the head,” he instructs. She glares at him before making her way to Ma June’s shop. He follows, not willing to let her out of his sight again, and she ducks behind the barrels of supplies in front of the shop. 

“Clearly,” she winces as the Knight’s gun starts firing off again, “I’m not making it out of here on my own.” They dive to the side as bullets rip through the barrels they’re leaning against. They’re not gonna have cover for much longer.

He grins at her, “Sounds like you’re asking me for a favor, darling.”

The sounds of screams and bodies dropping is nearly deafening. A few feet away a bullet catches a man in the throat and he drops to the ground. They watch as he chokes on his blood and tries to claw his way to safety. Steps rapidly approach them and she turns to shoot a different man, his body dropping an inch away from them. 

He turns back to her and his lips turn down, “After you tried to kill me? You want my help,” he laughs at her and she glares. 

Before she can speak a voice rings out above them, “I got her!” He shoots at the woman on the upper level above them, half of her leg gets blown off and she tumbles over the railing, narrowly missing the pair. 

He turns back to her, “You’re asking a lot, darling.”

“You’ve fucking shot me, twice. I’m not asking you for anything.” Her lips turn down in a sneer and she looks at him like the very sight of him disgusts her. “I don't need your help. I don't need you.” She glances back over her shoulder, surveying the gore and the bullets flying around them. She checks her gun and he sees just how little ammo she has left. “I’ll handle this myself.” She snaps the chamber of her gun closed and moves to get up. He grabs her wrist and yanks her back down, ignoring the angry expression on her face. 

“Look, you might not want my help, but you need it, sweetheart. Just stay here.” 

You watch as Cooper runs off, his guns firing before he’s even fully standing. You only wait a second before you’re running into Ma June’s and out her back door. She shouts at you as you barrel through her shop, knocking over her displays and shelves, but you can’t waste any time getting the hell out of dodge. 

You’re surprised Cooper was stupid enough to think you would actually wait for him. The Knight’s had called for an air evac out of Filly and if you stay there any longer you’ll be back in the compound before you can blink. 

You’ve spent a month evading them, you’re not about to let yourself get caught because of Cooper. 

You can’t believe he’s not dead. It’s not like you’ve been losing sleep over killing him, but it’s been hard to cope with the fact that you killed the man that was once the love of your life. Seeing him again, though, you wished you had shot him in his smug face. 

You’d forgotten, in the time apart, just how condescending he could be. He seemed to think you needed him to survive. You didn’t. 

At best, he provided the comfort of company. Poorly. 

Despite how much he undervalued you, you were perfectly capable of taking care of yourself. You didn’t need him to save you. You would have figured your way out of there on your own, eventually. You’ve handled yourself a month in the Wastelands without him. You learned how to carve an existence for yourself out here and you did it without help. 

You race into the woods beyond Filly, putting as much distance between you and the sounds of fighting as quickly as you can. The trees around you begin to shake, the ground vibrating and a swirl of dirt and leaves rises into the air and whips you in the face. 

You look up and begin pushing yourself faster. One of the Brotherhood’s Vertibird’s is circling Filly. “This is not a hostile landing! Please remain calm!” You blame your distraction on the announcement. 

You would have heard him coming up behind you if you hadn’t been listening to whatever the Brotherhood was saying. Rope loops around your arms and you’re yanked backwards. Your head thumps painfully hard against the forest floor, rocks scraping you as you’re dragged across the ground. 

Cooper’s face appears over yours, a cruel smile on his lips. “Now, this seems awfully familiar.” He walks around you, boots straddling your waist and grabs you by the front of your shirt, yanking you back to your feet. “I thought I told you to stay put, sweetheart.”

You frown at him, shoving your leg up between his. He groans, doubling over while you shimmy out of the loose rope. “Honestly, after all the shit that’s happened you think I’m gonna listen to anything you say?” You step back from him, brushing the dirt off your clothes as best you can. 

You sigh in frustration when you realize that when the Knight’s had grabbed you, you’d lost your supplies. Cooper looks up at you and scoffs, “Missing something?” You eye his bag on the ground and start to go for it. He pulls the hammer of his gun back and you glance towards him. You’d forgotten what a quick draw he could be.

He’s fully recovered now, eyes narrowed in on you and gun pointed right at your chest. “See, a bullet to the chest might not kill me, but I reckon it’ll do a hell of a lot of damage to you. Why don’t you back up for me, sweetheart?”

You let go of his bag and slowly back away from him. He keeps his gun trained on you and stoops down, throwing his bag back over his shoulder. Your eyes dart to the hat on his head and your lips curl up when you spot the hole you’d put in it. 

Two hundred years and he’s kept that hat nearly pristine, you take no small amount of pride in being the one to ruin it. 

“The Brotherhood will be swarming these woods in a few minutes. They’re not gonna be too happy about one of their Knight’s being dead. Come with me, I can help you out.”

You scoff, “Like I’ll ever trust you again. You’ve shot me, sold me, and left me for dead, Cooper.”

He huffs, eyes narrowing and lips curled in a sardonic grin. You can tell he’s getting pissed off. “The choice is yours,” he tucks his gun back in his holster and turns on his heels. You watch in surprise as he stalks away from you. You had fully expected him to put up more of a fight, it almost hurts that he left so easily again. 

Then you hear the sounds of orders being shouted behind you. Metal creaking and stomping through the underbrush and you realize he hadn’t left but forced you between a rock and a hard place. You could follow him or let yourself get captured by the Brotherhood. 

“Fuck,” you mutter under your breath. You risk a glance over your shoulder and spot a rapidly approaching party of squires. You run in the direction Cooper went and find him leaning casually against a tree, a satisfied look on his face when he spots you. “Don’t say a word,” you warn, shoving past him. 

He glances at her from across the fire and finds himself feeling almost at ease for the first time in a month. It’s been a while since he’s looked up to actually find her staring back at him. She might look like she wants to kill him, but she’s here. 

“You have to admit, we make a pretty good team, darling.”

She gives him an unimpressed look, “Yeah, Cooper, we’re so great at murdering people.” She looks over to the dead bodies of the raiders they’d stolen this camp from and shakes her head. “I forgot how much death you surround yourself with.”

“I surround myself with? Might I remind you, you fired the first shot, sweetheart.” Granted, he had shoved her out of her hiding spot and given her no choice about it. 

Her head shoots up and she glares at him, “You made me!” She opens her mouth and he grins. He enjoys provoking her like this. Even if the last time he had she’d shot him because of it, but it’s fun to rile her up. She always gets so pissed off, it entertains him to no end. 

To his disappointment, she closes her mouth and shakes her head, choosing not to engage with him. He sighs and rips off a piece of jerky. “When did you turn into such a wet fucking blanket?”

Her eyes flare with anger, despite that, he can hear how hurt she really is. “Maybe when you sold me!”

He tilts his head and runs his tongue over his teeth, “You ever gonna let that go? I told you it was a mistake. How was I supposed to know they were gonna breed you like a prize pig?”

She scoffs, the noise high pitched and shocked. She shakes her head and stares at him with wide eyes, “You are unbelievable.” He shrugs and takes a swig from the flask he’d stolen off one of the raiders. He’s not sure how they make their alcohol, or if they trade for it, but it’s fucking disgusting. He frowns at the flask and drains the rest of it before tossing it into the woods behind him. 

She sighs and runs a hand over her face, her voice tired as she asks, “What’s the plan here, Cooper?” 

He picks at his teeth and shakes his head, “With what?”

She leans against the log behind her and gestures at herself. “With me. What, are you going to wait for me to pass out so you can tie me up and send me back to the compound? I’ve seen the price on my head. I know how valuable I am to everyone in the Wastelands.”

He doesn’t know why what she’s saying bothers him so much but it does. “You really think I’d send you back there?”

Her face is devoid of anything as she responds, “Why wouldn’t you?”

It’s the bluntness with which she asks that, that bugs him. Like there’s no other possibility but him betraying her. Taking advantage of her while she was vulnerable and weak and then handing her over to the people who want her dead. He wouldn’t do that to her. 

He didn’t go through all this fucking trouble to find her just to lose her again. He wants to tell her as much but she’s on her feet and grabbing her bag before he can. “Look, I appreciate the help today, but I’m not interested in starting this partnership back up again. I think it’s better if we just part ways.”

He whips his gun out before he can think about what he’s doing. She freezes, still bent over and eyes his gun warily. “I’m afraid that’s not an option, darling.” He can’t let her leave again. And maybe this isn’t the best way to go about it, but he doesn’t know how else to stop her. 

“You gonna shoot me, Cooper?” She whispers, her own hand twitching for the revolver at her side. He stands up and grabs her wrists, ignoring the way she struggles against him. He binds her hands with his rope and he sits back down, 

“I’m not gonna turn you in and I’m not gonna shoot you. But you’re not getting out of here that easy, sweetheart.”

Her eyes narrow in on his, her fists clenched tightly in anger. “I killed two men with my hands bound today. What’s stopping me from killing you?”

He shrugs, “Nothing. There’s nothing stopping you, just like there’s nothing stopping me. But I’m not killing you, am I? See,” he leans forward, “I’ve fought too hard and spent too much time looking after you to just let you go now. We’re in this together, whether you want it or not.”

Her lips split in a sneer and she throws herself down on the log. “You’re all the fucking same. You treat me like a goddamn dog that needs to be beat into submission. I’m not some misbehaving pet, Cooper!” Her eyes well up and her voice breaks, “You don’t get to just leash me and expect me to be okay with it.”

“I’m under no illusions that you’re happy here, sweetheart.” He runs a hand down his face and she shakes her head in disbelief. 

“Then just let me go,” she’s bordering on begging now and his chest squeezes the longer she stares at him with those pleading eyes of hers. It’s not something he’s familiar with, this feeling, this longing for her to just shut the fuck up and stop making this so damn difficult for him. 

“I can’t,” he mutters, wanting her to just drop it. 

“Why not?” She snaps, dropping any pretenses of trying to get him to sympathize with her.

He surges forward and grabs her by the jaw. Her eyes widen in shock and he smashes their lips together, teeth clashing painfully. There’s nothing gentle or sweet about this kiss. Her teeth are ripping into his scarred lips until the taste of copper is spreading on his tongue. He groans, digging his fingers into her cheeks until her lips part. 

His tongue probes against hers, the taste of his blood spreading into her mouth as well. She whimpers, the noise stirring something in him he’d forgotten about. There’s an old desire bubbling in him that’s making him blind to the rest of the world. He wants her, more than he ever wants to admit. 

He’s wanted her for a long time before this and they both know it. How hard he’s fought against it, against moments like these. He didn’t think he was still capable of this feeling, this desire for her. But it’s consuming. She’s ruining him, running him in circles until he thinks he’s going insane. 

But it’s not the same gentle passion it once was. It’s as twisted as he’s become. The desire to possess, consume, covet until she’s his and only his to do with what he wants. His teeth dig into her, letting her blood overcome the taste of his own. He groans, his free hand grabbing her waist and yanking her closer. 

She tastes so much sweeter than he does, he wants to rip a chunk of her off and eat her whole. He’s so distracted he doesn't even notice her pulling out her gun until he’s shooting back from her. He lands roughly on the forest floor and groans, hands clutched over the bleeding hole in his gut. Pain radiates through his abdomen and he rolls onto his side.

He looks up at her in shock. She’s spitting their blood onto the ground, her bound hands wiping at her lips. “Asshole,” she mutters. She tucks her gun back in her holster and looks over at him. 

His eyes are wide in disbelief as he struggles to sit back up. The movement causes another wave of pain and he hisses through gritted teeth, “You shot me!”

She rolls her eyes and gives him a blank look, “You’ll live.” He limps back to his own seat and lifts his shirt, watching as the hole closes over slowly and the blood stops leaking. She watches as he heals and sighs, “Unfortunately.” He tugs it back down and sighs at the state of his shirt. 

“My shirt won’t.” He digs a finger into the hole and tugs on it, watching as it rips wider. Two hundred years he’s kept these clothes, she ruins them in a month. Un-fucking-believable. 

“Sew it,” she gripes, still wiping at her mouth. “I can’t believe you just fucking kissed me,” she frowns and spits again, bits of crimson lingering on her lips. 

He sighs and leans back against the tree. “Felt right in the moment.” It did, he wants to do it again. They’re even now, they’ve both shot each other twice. No reason for her to shoot again. 

He wants to feel the way she shivers against him and moans into his mouth. She can be pissed all she wants but she kissed back, she can’t deny that. He’s sure if she wasn’t tied up she’d be a bit more receptive to him. Or maybe she just needs time to cool off after the whole compound incident, a month seems like a reasonable amount of time. Then again, women are so damn unreasonable. 

She tugs a knife out of her boot and positions it between her knees. She places it between her wrists and saws at the rope until it falls free. She slides the knife back in her boot and tosses the ruined rope at him. 

He catches it with a sigh and glances up at her. “Why didn’t you do that earlier?”

Her eyes are alight with a challenge, “I wanted to see if you would let me go yourself.” Well, clearly, he had failed her little test. “I wanted to see if there was even a possibility I could ever trust you again.”

He gives her an unimpressed look, slightly pissed off about his shirt. He never should have taught her how to shoot. If he’d known it would come back to bite him in the ass he wouldn’t have. “And?”

She gives him a disbelieving look and shakes her head. “And instead of letting me go, you kissed me.“ She throws her hands up in astonishment and glares at him. “Why the hell would you think that was a good idea?”

He smirks and revels in the way she shivers at the sight. “Well, darling, I’ve always been better with actions not words.”

“Yeah,” her voice is a challenge, eyes hard and jaw clenched tightly in frustration. He loves the sight of her all riled up. He loves it even more knowing he’s the one getting her like this. “What were you trying to tell me with that little display?”

He doesn’t answer her question, not wanting to just yet. “You liked it, didn’t you?” Her mouth snaps shut and she looks away from him. He laughs, leaning back and giving her a smug look. “You can be pissed off at me as much as you want, sweetheart,” the nickname rolls off his tongue like a taunt and she sneers at him. “But you want me just the same as you used to.”

“Do you like hurting me? Is that why you keep me around? You’ve been alone for two hundred years, Cooper. And for the majority of them you’ve harbored this hatred for me because you thought I had abandoned you just like everyone else.” 

Her words strike a place deep inside him that has him on edge. She knows what she’s doing. He’s forgotten, in his time with her, that in the same way he can get under her skin, she can do it too. She knows him just as well, she’s just always been the better half of their duo. She never feels the need to stoop to the level he does. But she’s doing it now and it feels like a kick in the teeth. 

“And I’m the only one that’s actually stuck by you.” She laughs, but there’s an underlying pain to it. She looks away from him and wipes at her cheeks and his fists clench within his gloves. “Is this your revenge? You think by torturing me you get back at everyone whose ever fucked you over. I’m sick of it, Cooper. I’m not gonna let you use me anymore.”

“I feel for you,” he forces the words out. He doesn’t want to tell her this. He shouldn’t have to tell her this. She should just stick with him, it’s what they’d always done, it’s how it always should be. Them, together. But she’s fighting against that, against him, so much that he doesn’t have a choice. 

She’s backed him into a corner he doesn’t know how to get out of. “In a way I haven’t in a very long time. I can’t let you go. Don’t you get that, sweetheart? We’re in this together.”

She shakes her head and he sighs. “No,” she looks at him and just shakes her head again. “No, you don’t love me, Cooper, or you don’t want me at least. I’m not the same girl I was, that’s what you’re after. That idea in your head, of us together, that’s who I was. You were right, the Wastelands changes you. I can’t be her for you and I don’t want to be.”

He chuckles and she shrinks away from the sound in suspicion. “Newsflash, darling, I’m not the same man. I loved you a long time ago, sweetheart, but I’m not capable of that anymore. Not for the girl you were, anyway.”

She nodded, her arms wrapped around herself. She looked like she accepted the answer, but he could see beyond that, could see that she thought he was rejecting her. It hurt, she could hate him as much as she wanted, but that still hurt her. “Good,” she muttered, “she’s gone.”

“Well, good.” She shrank further into herself and he grinned.  “You. You as you are now. That’s what I want. I don’t give a shit about who we were, the only person I’ve wanted since I’ve been out here has been you. You’re the only person I’ve met who can actually keep up with me. I don’t give a shit if anyone in this godforsaken Wasteland lives or dies, but I give a shit about you. You’re also the only one who can knock me on my ass.”

Her eyes darted to the hole in his shirt and a small grin came over her lips. “Haven’t been shot a lot, have you, cowboy?”

“No,” he chuckles again and grins at her, “I haven’t. Though, I am still pretty pissed about the hole in my hat.”

Her tone loses a bit of her playfulness and she glares at him, “You more than earned that.”

He acquiesces and holds up his hands in surrender, “Maybe.” She scoffs at that and rolls her eyes. “But I think we’re even now.”

“Barely,” she mutters, rubbing at the bruises on her wrists. She glances up at him and sighs, a surrender in her eyes. “But, it’s close enough now.”

He stands up and she eyes him warily as he throws himself down on the log next to her. He holds out a hand, “What do you say, darling, partners?”

She sighs and stares at his hand for a long time. He doesn’t mind, he leaves it there, hovering between them. He knows she’ll take it. “Deny it as much as you want but this is how it’s meant to be. You can keep fighting it or save us both some time.”

She reaches forward and tentatively wraps a hand around his, she uses it to yank him forward, their faces separated by an inch. “Shoot me again,” she whispers, “and I won’t miss the next time I knock you on your ass.”

“Oh shit,” you jump at the kickback on the rifle and nearly drop it to the ground. Cooper laughs and reaches around you, taking it from you. 

“Maybe I should have started you off with something with a little less kick to it.” He props the rifle against the tree and glances over to the cans you’d been shooting at. Well, you’d gotten one out of five at least. 

In all fairness this was the first time you’d ever handled a gun, you’re sure you’re doing fine for a beginner. He sucks on his teeth and looks at your targets. The serious look on his face cracks and he’s clearly trying to fight off laughing. 

You shove at his shoulder, smiling, “Shut up. I’ve never used one of these things before.”

He picks the rifle back up and starts laughing now, “You mean a gun?” 

You throw your arms in the air in defeat and slump into the patio chairs he’s dragged to the back of the cabin. “This is pointless, anyway.” He cocks the rifle and lifts it up to aim properly. In quick succession he knocks the remaining four cans off the fence. You roll your eyes at him, “Show off.”

He smiles and takes a seat next to you. You remain silent for a while, gazing across the yard and to the towering mountains across from his cabin. You appreciate him inviting you here. When you’d told him how overwhelmed you’d been feeling with all the new publicity you hadn’t expected him to drag you all the way out to his mountain home. 

You wouldn’t have accepted if you’d known it was just going to be you and him. You’d thought he was bringing his wife and kid, too. Spending a long weekend playing house with Cooper wasn’t going to do anything in getting rid of your crush. It was just getting worse the longer you were around him.

Waking up everyday and having him be the first person to greet you was going to send you into an early grave. You swear your heart’s never beat this fast around anyone else. He seems to be the only man who's ever had you feeling this head over heels. 

“I think it’s important you learn.”

You glance over at him, surprised at how serious he sounds. He’s still staring out at the mountains, but his gaze is distant. His mind is some place else. “Why?” You ask, voice quiet, afraid to spoil the moment.

He finally blinks, gaze darting down to his hands and the rifle still in them. “It’s easy for people to dismiss the war nowadays. They weren’t there, they didn’t watch as hundreds of good men and women died for them.” You frown, sometimes it’s easy to forget that he’d been fighting on the frontlines. He’s so good at being a socialite, you feel guilty that even you sometimes forget he was a soldier before he was Cooper Howard. 

His voice is heavy, the tension thick around the both of you. “They seem to think the war is over. I know it’s not, it’s just going to get worse. People can bury their heads in the sand as long as they want, but when the fighting is at their front door, what are they going to do?”

You reach out, hand covering his own. He finally looks up at you and you smile. “I appreciate it, Cooper.”

His eyes quickly look at your hand before looking back at you. “For what?”

You shrug, moving closer to him and lacing your fingers with his. You shouldn’t indulge yourself like this, but you can’t help it. He seems so sad and you only want to make him feel better. You just want to take care of him, the way he takes care of you. 

“For always looking out for me. You’re always there, I appreciate it. I appreciate you.”

The sad cast over his face finally breaks and he smiles at you. His hand squeezes yours once, then again and he looks back out at the mountains without saying anything else. You don’t think he needs to, that either of you needs to. Sometimes you understand each other better without words. 

You’ll always be there for one another.

You eye him warily and he holds the jerky out further. “Aren’t you a little curious?” He taunts, waving the jerky around in front of your face. You know he thinks you won’t take it. That he’s just screwing with you. He’s been doing this ever since you agreed to tag along with him. Teasing you at every given opportunity. 

You snatch it from his hands and rip a piece of it off. It kind of tastes like beef, if not a little sweeter. There’s also that metallic radiated tang to it. You chew it slowly, savoring the slightly caught off guard look on his face. You swallow it down, forcing your face to stay straight and not give away how disgusted you feel right now. 

He chuckles, leaning back and looking at you with something that seems like appreciation. “I hope you know that was ass jerky.”

You gag now, glaring at him and tossing the rest of the jerky at his smug face. “You’re such a dick.” You take a swig from your canteen and swirl the water around your mouth. It gets rid of the taste well enough but you’re never going to get over the fact that you swallowed a part of someone’s ass. 

He suddenly gets serious, swatting at your arm and motioning to the front of the store. You crouch beside him, watching as a raider walks out of the front doors. You don’t get why they chose an old movie store for their hideout, but Cooper had it on good authority that they had a decent cache of supplies inside. 

The last time you’d followed him into one of these things, you’d nearly died, and then he’d sold you. You’re still not fully trusting of him. The only reason you’re with him now is because you need extra security from bounty hunters after getting booted out of Filly. 

If he wasn’t such a good shot, you would have never given him a second glance. Despite how much he insists the compound was an honest mistake, you find the trust slow to come. You’ll let him take the lead on this one, you’re not confident in him having your back if things take a turn. 

He moves forward and you hang back, keeping watch while he slits the guard’s throat. He lowers the body quietly to the ground and you creep behind him, following him through the doors of the store. 

This group is smaller than the last one you dealt with. Only five of them with no extra guards outside. Cooper ducks behind a dust covered shelf before they can spot either of you. You go to the other side of the store, moving slowly along the edge until you have a good shot. 

You take out one man and Cooper manages to hit two more before they start firing off their own guns. You dart back behind the shelf, willing to let Cooper handle the last two. But one of them dives behind the shelf and grabs at you. 

Another shot goes off and his friend’s body hits the ground while he rounds the corner with you. He’s got an arm wrapped around your throat and the barrel of his gun pushing so hard into your skull you can feel an indent forming. 

It wouldn’t be hard to shoot this guy, you still have your gun in your hand. Cooper seems to realize that, too, from the questioning look he gives you. You drop your gun to the floor, you want to see what he’ll do. 

Maybe you’re stupid, gambling with your life like this. But you don’t feel any fear, not from the guy holding you hostage at least. You just keep your eyes locked on Cooper’s. They’re so familiar to you, yet so distant. Like a stranger you’ve known all your life. 

He slowly rises from the floor, hands raised in the air in surrender. “Alright, let’s just see if we can’t talk this out like gentlemen.”

The guy holding you jerks you roughly, gun banging painfully against your temple. You wince but remain quiet. “Stay back or I’ll blow her goddamn brains out!”

Cooper’s eyes dart from your face to the guy. He huffs, frowning and pursing his lips like he’s trying to think of a way to talk himself out of this. He could leave, he’s got enough time to make it through the door before he fires at him. 

Or he could help you. 

It’s the only reason you let yourself get caught. If he wants your trust he’s going to have to prove it. Cooper looks at you and a grin splits across his face. It’s like he’s read your mind, from the knowing look on his face you think he might’ve. 

Then again, you never really needed words to talk to each other. 

With a speed that never fails to catch you off guard his hand darts under his jacket and he draws his gun. He’s shooting the man before you even get a chance to brace yourself. Your body gets dragged back slightly by the dead weight but Cooper moves forward and wraps a hand around your shirt, tugging you into him. 

Your hands shoot out, bracing yourself against his chest. He peers at you from under his hat and grins, “You didn’t really think I was gonna let you go that easy did you, darling?” Your eyes dart down to his lips, you feel like you can still taste him. 

The timing of his kiss might not have been appropriate, but he certainly hadn’t made it forgettable. Nothing about him was forgettable. As much as you wished he could be. You hated yourself for still letting yourself fall into his trap. 

Hollywood might have once labeled you as the most seductive actress of your generation, but Cooper had you beat. He kept you coming back even when you knew you shouldn’t. He had you wrapped around him and all you wanted to do was squeeze until he let you go. 

You push off of him, ignoring how much you want to pull him closer. You move towards their pile of supplies, “Let’s see what we’ve got.”

There are a few different posters set up in the old movie store that intrigue him. But the one that’s caught his attention the most is set up directly behind her. Her back is to it, so she hasn’t gotten a chance to see it yet, but it’s all he can focus on. 

The Outlaw and The Sheriff

Their first movie together. 

He looks at her and huffs out a laugh, she glances up at him for a moment before she begins rifling through her bag again. She looks like she walked right off the fucking poster, hat and all. She’s the spitting image of herself, but she seems so different. 

Maybe it’s the eyes. The light there has changed, dimmed slightly from how it used to be. She used to seem so naive to the world, like a little lamb that just needed some guidance. Now, he wonders just how much of the world she’d seen before he found her. If maybe she had never been as innocent to it’s cruelties as he’d once assumed. 

She stepped into this new role of hers just as quickly as he had. You didn’t just change that quickly without knowing already just how awful people could be. 

“Sweetheart,” she looks up and he points behind her. She turns around and looks up to the poster.

She scoffs, moving to stand beside him, “I always hated how I looked in that.”

He glances over at her and shakes his head, “Probably shouldn’t show you a mirror anytime soon, then.” Her hands reach up to fiddle with the brim of her hat and she smiles, a real smile for once. 

“No, I suppose not.” Her hands trace over her lips, he glances back at the poster. At that old signature of hers. She always had to have those red lips. “It’s so different,” she whispers and he knows she didn’t mean for him to hear. Her eyes glisten and he frowns. 

He shouldn’t have shown her. It’s not like he enjoyed seeing those fucking Vault-Boy posters, he sure as hell hated seeing clips of himself. Why would she enjoy seeing who she used to be? Who they used to be?

Things used to be so simple. He loved her, she loved him. Now he’d fucked up so much he wasn’t sure she could ever look at him the way she used to. He didn’t want who she was before, he couldn’t handle that. This new her, well, he didn’t give her near enough credit. 

But he wouldn’t hate seeing someone look at him like that again. Endless adoration and unflinching loyalty. He knew he would follow her anywhere, he’d realized that a while ago. He didn’t have anything in the Wastelands, nothing but hate and spite to keep him going all this time.

Now, he had her. He just needed her to realize that she had him just the same. She had him wrapped around her and he hated it and loved it at the same time. Hated her and loved her for it all the same. 

He tugs his glove off before he reaches for her. He cups her cheek, thumb tracing over her lips before she turns towards him. His eyes meet hers and he smiles slightly at the familiarity and mystery to them. So much of her he recognizes and then there are these new parts he’s yet to discover. 

He wants to discover all of her. Learn everything he can about her all over again, feed his desire to consume her entirely. 

She pulls him in this time, her lips chapped and cracked. Her arms wind around his neck, yanking him closer and he tugs at her. She tastes as sweet as he remembers and it only makes him crave more. More of her, more of anything she’ll let him have. 

She pulls back from him, pressing her hand against his chest, slowly backing him against the wall. He lets her ease him to the floor and she throws a leg over his lap. She settles herself above him, both her hands tightly grasping his neck, crushing their bodies together, eyes gazing intently into his own. He doesn’t know what she’s looking for in him but she seems to find it when she leans in once more. 

She isn’t giving him a chance at control, she’s got a leash on him, pulling back anytime he tries to lead. He relents, following her as she slowly explores him. 

He’s not sure how long this peace between them will last before one of them inevitably fucks up. But they’re stuck together now. It doesn’t matter what happens, he’s not letting her get away from him again. 

She’s his, always has been, always will be. It’s been that way since before the fallout. He’s led her, guided her.

He had loved her as a different man. History always seems to repeat itself with them. As twisted as the world is, as twisted as they’ve become, they always seem to drift back together. No matter how much the both of them fight against it. 

He’s giving in now, giving into her. 

end. — I do not own the characters or the game/show Fallout, but this writing is my own all rights reserved © not-neverland06 2024. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

#cooper howard x reader #the ghoul x reader #fallout x reader #fallout tv series #how about a nuke? #cooper howard #the ghoul

[slayfics]

Would you consider writing a pro hero!bakugo x pro goth reader fic. Like maybe where they meet on a mission or something.

Katsuki meets a pro goth hero.

550 words

Katsuki was on the scene within seconds of the call. A villain on the move attempting to get away. Not a high-grade villain, so it was going to be an easy task. Either way, Katsuki was glad for the excitement on his patrol shift.

A loud bang and he flew into the alleyway where the villain was last spotted. But he didn’t find a fleeing villain, instead, he was met with a sight that made his ears go hot.

Another pro had beaten him to the scene. The villain was plastered against the floor the pro straddled on top of him pinning him from escaping.

“Where did your friends go?!” You yelled giving the villain a shake.

The villain only mumbled with a flush face, blood trickling from his nose, as you continued to interrogate him, unintentionally bouncing atop him as you yelled and shook him.

Katsuki huffed at the sight. Did you not notice the villain was way too flustered to say anything sensical?

Katsuki didn’t blame the villain. Your slick black hero outfit left little to the imagination. Curves fully displayed and plump breasts pushed together from the tight fit.

You may have thought you were punishing the villain, but this looked more like a reward to Katsuki.

The longer he watched the scene the harder it was to keep his thoughts about work. Your long black hair swayed as you yelled, full lips adorned in shiny black lipstick.

It was a sharp contrast to the usual girl pros he was used to with bright preppy colors that made his eyes squint. Your costume dilated his pupils and shallowed his breath, and no matter how hard he tried to redirect his thoughts he wondered what you’d look like on top of him instead.

“I said where are your friends?!!” You yelled again, obviously to Katsuki’s gaze.

“Think we’ll have better luck if I ask 'em,” Katsuki said, alerting your attention.

You dropped the villain and his head slammed against the ground. His nose still spewing blood.

“Oh, are my methods not good enough for the Great Dynamite?” You teased, eyebrow raised, you stepped off the villain.

Your attitude caught Katsuki off guard, but he found himself clenching his fists as his throat dried.

“Just sayin' I don’t think that nosebleed is because ya hit him in the face, pretty sure he’s not thinking with his head right now,” Katsuki spoke ignoring your jab.

“Alright then, show me how it’s done little fuse,” you taunted and sat up on one of the garbage bins. Legs crossed you gestured to the villain lying dizzy on the floor, indicating for Katsuki to give it a go.

Katsuki scoffed at your nickname pretending to be annoyed, but it made his eyes darken, and cheeks flush.

Katsuki picked up the villain in one hand, lighting up a blast in the other. “Speak or ya gonna be hurting even worse,” he demanded.

“Fuck ok- they are hiding in the dive bar two streets over! They were supposed to wait for my signal,” the villain confessed.

“Was that so hard,” Katsuki taunted, slamming the villain back on the floor and knocking him out.

“Oh, so you like it rough,” you taunted.

What kind of hero were you, Katsuki thought. Mustering up his best eye roll he answered, “Yeah I do- and if you want to meet me later, I’ll show ya there’s nothing little about me.”

sinners: @queenpiranhadon @unofficialmuilover @maddietries @fiannee @i-heart-carlisle @derangedmango @matchat3a @bakugouswaif @reneinii @zanarkandskylines @pastelbakugou @abadbitchblogs @deluluforcarlos55 @b134ch-m4h-ey3z @that-one-fangirl69 @pinkpurpledreams @that-one-fangirl69 @dreamcastgirl99

#</slay writes> #katsuki fanfic #katsuki bakugo #bakugo katsuki #bakugou katsuki x reader #katsuki x y/n #katsuki x you #bnha katsuki #katsuki x reader #katsuki #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugou katsuki #bakugo x reader #bakugo #mha bakugo x reader #bakugo x self insert #bakugo x you #bakugo x y/n #bakugo x female reader #bakugo katuski #bnha bakugou #katsuki bakugou #mha bakugou #bakugou x reader #bnha bakugo katsuki #katsuki bakugo mha #bakugou x you #mha x y/n #mha x you #mha x reader

[ahllohehn]

Hello!! I was wondering if the big 3 were allowed to have children in your pjo au? I just found out about it and I'm very unwell/pos

Uh, I want to answer everything creatively so, here! Lore of my own below! (Again, can be considered not canon, if wanted. This is just my own stuff!)

An excerpt from the Camp Oracle's Journal:

"I had the honor of meeting one of the only Big Three kids in camp during my 3rd week as the oracle. He looked a little intimidating, or maybe I just thought he was intimidating because everyone spoke so highly of him like the ground he walks on needed to be worshipped--

But as soon as I got an actual conversation with him, he seems.... actually not like a bloodthirsty monster? I mean, hearing 'son of Hades' I would've assumed I'd be smacked in the face with some teenage angst and daddy issues, but all I got was some fossil who exclaims 'oh snappers!' like it's a game character voiceline.

I challenged him to a spar because, you know, I thought he'd show his true colors in battle or something! And if I fainted mid-sparring because of my curiosity, then at least my curiosity was sated?

But nope, still the same fossil who giggles even when he gets beat down by a mortal child way shorter than him.

I didn't know if he was just making it easier for me, but his humbleness really made me feel like I was on top of the world, so I just took it as is. It was fun.

I eventually asked X why everyone speaks of Etho like he's a god despite him being... well, as he is, and of course- he laughed at me.

Apparently there was an agreed ban on Big Three kids years ago, but was eventually voided because of Etho's existence. Obviously I asked how that came to be and all X said, in an ominous way, 'Because he's Etho.'

.....

Gatekeeper :p

Anyway, apparently I just challenged and beat up the same man who may or may not have done some big heroic thing to make the gods scared enough to void a divine agreement between the Big Three.

Should I be scared? Probably not, haha.

Even if he was quite the big deal back then, you will not find me trembling in front of a guy that giggles like a schoolgirl whenever Joel visits."

#Hermits and The Olympians #ethoslab #ethoslab fanart #etho hermitcraft #hermitcraft #hermitcraft fanart #hermitblr #Ichikarume Art #im an artist not a writer #my apologies lol

[brucewaynehater101]

I'm not done torturing Timothy

Kid dies of overwork in the middle of his work hours as CEO of Wayne Enterprises

All the bats are busy everywhere else and while they are the first to know Tim was confirmed dead, said death was too public and it rapidly spreads all over Gotham, the internet and maybe spheres outside of them that the teen CEO is dead before he even turned 18

Questions at W.E. but the Waynes especially are being asked, and people want answers.

All anybody—to Gotham as a whole, to Young Justice, to the Justice League, and anyone else—can do now is live with the fallout of Tim's and Red Robin's death, and go from their

Inspired by those fics and AUs where Tim sacrifices his time, sleep, energy, sanity, happiness mental health & physical health, and general well-being for the Bats

Is fandom or canon ever really done with torturing Tim?

And great AU! Let's beef it up.

I couldn't find a definitive answer for how long it takes before someone dies due to overworking. The consensus is that 54 or more hours a week is considered over-working. One article said they studied what health conditions people received over a ten-year study.

So, let's start Tim off early.

In this AU, he skipped grades. So, even though he was intelligent enough to do so, this had a few effects.

The effects include poor socialization (and chances to be a kid/de-stress with peers), increased workload (more homework/more mental energy required in comparison to those his age), and he needed to study harder than his classmates to ensure he was keeping up.

His workload increased when he became Robin.

He was worried about Bruce, and his Robin activities/responsibilities took a lot of time. School is already usually around 35 hours, not including homework. In this AU, his parents also enrolled him in honors classes with the expectation that he maintains decent grades. Add on that his Robin needed to ensure Batman wasn't violent every night Batman went out? He was patrolling at least 5 nights a week.

The subsequent losses and grief were overwhelming and stressful

Not much needs to be said about this other than just another aspect added onto Tim's shoulders

Bruce dies

That's another loss, there's all of the stress with the Battle of the Cowl/losing Robin, he works without breaks or supports to find Bruce, and he assumes some control of WE. His missing spleen also lowers his immune system (which was already jeopardized by his stress and the permanent consequences of the Clench).

Tim continues to work as CEO in this AU while managing the Bats, Waynes, various hero society issues, and patrol ad Red Robin.

No wonder he collapses. I think the even more increase in work combined with his strenuous relationships with everyone (YJ is still trying to navigate Kon and Bart coming back to life with Tim and Cassie's fight) causes Tim to pile more and more onto his shoulders until he dies.

So, with all of these added together, Tim can die pretty quickly after obtaining the CEO position. I like to think that a combination of being sick, having an infection, lack of sleep, and stress took him out.

I hope Bruce burns to death in this one for not noticing, putting more pressure on Tim's shoulders, and being an ass :)

#dc comics #tim drake #dc universe #thank you for the ask!!!! #dc au #you can add more of tim's canon events to give him more stress while taking out his support systems

[kraeted]

CONTAINS: sawamura daichi x curly haired fem reader, fluff

PART OF THE FIRSTS SERIES | daichi learns something new about you when he watches you do your hair for the first time

"What are you doing?" Daichi asked with a curious smile. He put his rinsed toothbrush back in the cup sat between the two faucets of your bathroom.

You just sectioned your hair, a crooked part running from ear to ear while the rest of your wet curly hair rested on top of your head in a bun. The ends off your hair sporadically dripped, soaking the top of your black shirt.

"My hair?" You met his eyes in the reflection of the mirror with scrunched eyebrows. You raked your leave-in conditioner through your hair, making sure not to miss a single strand.

"Of course," he chuckled and turned to you, leaning his hip against the counter, "I just mean does it always take all of this," he grabbed your small container of gel and read the label, "to do your hair?"

In the years you were long distance, it was no secret how much time you spent on your hair, especially on wash days. You always sent him a message on those days, giving him a heads up to let him know you were going to be radio silent for a couple of hours. Daichi assumed it was the washing that took the most effort, considering the length and different texture of your hair. But now he got to witness the whole process, it was clear he was mistaken.

"Not always." Daichi watched closely as you singled out a curl, twirled it around your finger until it reached your scalp and let it go. It fell into a perfect ringlet. "The first day I use all of my products and the rest of the week I only use water and mousse-- oh and sometimes gel, depending on the hair style I wanna wear."

He nodded and absentmindedly chewed on his bottom lip as his softened gaze stayed with you. It had been a little over a week since you moved in and again he realized how much he had been deprived of with the thousands of kilometers between you. It was a bittersweet feeling, constantly being reminded of what he missed, but also of how many things there were still left to be discovered.

After a moment of silence you let your arms fall at your side and you glanced at him. "Are you just going to stare at me until I'm done?"

"Would that be a problem?"

"That would be creepy."

You laughed together and you continued, your wrinkled fingers making ringlet after ringlet, finishing the bottom row.

"And what is this. . . technique called?"

"This technique," you playfully mocked his formal choice of words, "is called finger coiling."

Daichi observed your hair. The finger coiled curls looked closer to what your every day hair looked like compared to your freshly washed hair. "Do you need to do that to make your curls?"

"Oh, no," you took down your bun to section off another row, "water just weighs down my hair, but when it dries, even without products, my hair looks like what you're used to-- well, a frizzy version of what you're used to."

"Do you have any pictures of your hair like that?"

If anyone else had asked you that question, you would have thought it was to laugh at you, but Daichi's innocent curiosity was strangely heartwarming. "I would have to look in my phone, but probably yeah."

You wetted your, now, damp hair and raked your products through it until it looked more defined. When you started finger coiling each individual curl, Daichi leaned closer to you. "Can I try coiling one?"

Your eyes slightly widened and your hands came to a halt. "Really?"

"If you're okay with it."

An uncontrollable smile spread across your face. "Yeah."

You turned your back to him and he pushed himself off the counter. You looked at both of your reflections in the mirror and picked out a curl for him to practice on. "Do you need any help or have you watched closely enough?"

He took the curl from your hand and narrowed his eyes in concentration. "I should be fine. . . I think."

Daichi started off the right way, his finger holding on to the end of your clumped strands, only to twirl them the opposite direction of your curl pattern. Your shoulders shuddered as you horribly failed at suppressing your chuckles, the curl unraveling in his motion.

"Okay maybe this isn't as easy as it looks." Amusement laced his voice as he inspected his work and compared it to yours.

"You'll get it next time." You took the frizzy curl back and kissed him with a smile, adoring his willingness to try.

NOTE: i decided to make a series out of this, because it's so easy to think of cute (and angsty) scenarios for this. who knows how long i'll keep this up, but i hope you enjoyed it either way. if anyone has any suggestions for scenarios i would love to hear them :)

#signed by rae #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu fluff #daichi sawamura #sawamura daichi #daichi sawamura x reader #sawamura daichi x reader #daichi x reader #daichi x you #daichi fluff #haikyuu daichi #haikyuu headcanons

[your-mums-nuts]

okok idk if you've heard the spoiler happening where colin is upset with pen and ends up at a brothel?? i've seen it twice now and uh. im really hoping it isn't true. it made sense in the first part when he was still figuring things out, but after? i really don't think they will cause that's not in colin's favor at all, but why would someone say it if it wasn't true??

do you have any other information on it and do you think it's true?? (really hoping you can quell my irrational anxiety about this lol)

thank you!!

Girl dm me about this please cause I wanna hear what you’ve heard.

But in all seriousness- I am incredibly anxious about this too! I got my information about it from a Nicola and Luke interview where they imply something happens in part two that Nicola hated, and then Nicola goes “it’s not like he’s cheating on her..”

And then Luke said something like, “but he’s had to watch her all season..”

My hope is that it’s maybe at a ball and he dances with someone else in front of her after the Whistledown reveal. I would still dislike it because we’ve seen pen look longingly at Colin dancing with others for two seasons already, but it’d be far better if it meant nothing and was pointed, then it being an actual consideration.

If they did decide to do something with the brothel, even him just considering visiting a brothel, I am going to be so incredibly pissed off. I don’t care how upset or betrayed he is- cheating or even just considering cheating is so so disgusting and so unlike Colin.

Also I’m sorry but Whistledown is not that bad. I understand where the anger and feelings of betrayal would come from, but she has reasons. She was young and silly and went about it the wrong way but she at least has reasons for what she’s done.

If Colin were to do anything, however small, even if it was just implied possible cheating, there’s no reasoning there. There’s no ‘I did it for the grand scheme of things’ or ‘I was young and naive’ or even, ‘I felt powerless and overlooked.’

But in happier news (because a lot of this is just me spiralling) I think they’re clever enough not to do that. Bridgerton is kind of the ‘man on his hands and knees for woman he loves’ show, and it’s been extremely praised for embracing the female gaze in romance and sex alike.

.. and If they do go through with any of this, trust that the polin fanfic legends WILL be writing some great canon divergence, so there’s always that.

#polin #bridgerton #penelope featherington #colin bridgerton

[fantasy-relax]

Sweet Alpha Dangerous Omega

Part 8 Part 9

Taking off your clothes Bela thought about how furious her mother was going to be with you, her first choice of punishment would be to cut your hands or at least fracture them which Bela couldn't allow due to your work with Relia. A week in the dungeon, with a single meal of bread and water, plus twenty lashes a day would be more than enough to teach you a lesson. Even so, the blonde would have to calm her down to prevent her from going overboard and ending up killing you.

Coming out of her thoughts and looking at your half-naked body, Bela finally looks at your scars in more detail, it is the first time she has done so because the physical checkup she did on you was with your clothes on and she couldn't see you clearly when you bathed with Cassandra.

Your legs, arms, and torso are covered in scars, some from claws, cuts, and bites (Bela will set her garden on fire if the teeth marks on your arm aren't Cassandra's). The most certain origin of it was from your work as a hunter and your carpentry work.

However, there were others that she knew well.

Discipline marks.

Most of them were on your back, but there were also behind your legs, all of them seemed to be from years ago.

So, in the end your submission and obedience were due to your upbringing, a man would not tolerate his son disrespecting him, much less a daughter, he would not care if she was an alpha. Considering that the presentation of the sub gender was in early childhood, your upbringing must have greatly suppressed your alpha traits.

But an alpha would always be an alpha.

Surrounded by women smaller and weaker than you, of an “inferior” sub gender, of course sooner or later you would feel with the power and right to establish your superiority.

And now you had to be disciplined, as many times as necessary to control that wild beast in you.

Haa

What a disappointment.

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

"Sixteen"

Your cries of pain were music to her ears.

"Seventeen"

It was always the same with alphas and men.

"Eighteen"

They believed they had the right to do whatever they wanted simply because of their “Genetic Superiority.”

"Nineteen"

Imbeciles.

"Twenty"

You tried to hold back your sobs to protect your pathetic pride, Alcina rolled her eyes and signaled for her dear Bela to take you down to disinfect your wounds and bandage you for the day.

After all she still needed you alive.

But Alcina would let Heisenberg spit in her face before allowing her beloved Cassandra to spend her most vulnerable period with a feral alpha.

Grabbing the bottle of alcohol, she emptied it on your wounds.

“I told you that I would make you regret it.”

You’re crying and moans of pain filled her with satisfaction.

And her Beta with guilt.

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

“Good morning freak”

The maid smiled at you mockingly and there was only malice in her eyes. Placing the tray of food on a table, she grabbed the piece of bread and then trampled it and placed it back on the tray.

“Your food is ready.”

She took the glass of water and spat into it.

“And your drink.”

She left the tray far away from your cell, to reach it you had to stretch and consequently open your wounds.

It was that or not eat for another day.

“Aren't you hungry?”

Your stomach hurt, before you could go up to three days without eating without any problem, but after spending a month eating full meals three times a day you no longer had the same resistance as before.

“If you don't want it, I'll take it.”

You reached out to grab her before she carried out her threat.

“UGH that's disgusting, you really are a mutt.”

Picking up the tray and the glass, she simply left the room.

There were four more days left to finish your punishment.

You regretted breaking the rules the matriarch had imposed on you.

Still, you'd do it again.

It didn't matter that Cassandra didn't want you as a mate.

Her omega had chosen you as a suitable alpha.

And it was your duty to defend her when she couldn't.

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

Knock Knock

"Enter"

The maid was one who had been working for a year, Zina was the only omega except for Cassandra who did not have a partner and preferred to take suppressants to cope with her heat.

“Sorry to interrupt you, Lady Bela.”

“Don’t worry, what do you need?”

It was well known that all the Dimitrescu were softer with the Omega women than with the Betas. It was hard not to be when they were the only ones who understood and followed the castle rules without any drama.

“Um it's about the alpha.”

BAM

“Did she do something to you?” Her voice was pure venom. She knew she should have watched you more, an alpha would always be an alpha whether male or female.

“NO, NO, NEVER”

  Bela took a deep breath and sat back looking through the papers and books on the floor thanks to her broken desk.

She would have to order Relia a new one.

Zina reached out to pick up everything that had fallen to the ground, talking as she did so.

“She only goes from her room to the kitchen and workshop, she doesn't look for a fight or mess with anyone, but…” She places the notebooks on the coffee table and sighs. “I can't say the same about the other maids.”

#resident evil village #cassandra dimitrescu #my work

[alphajocklover]

What about a G2S story about greasers? There's so few of those.

Imagine: A very lonely gay guy meets a rockabilly, greaser gang. They take him under their wing, which gay guy appreciates because of his loneliness. But slowly they start changing him, making him just like them.

In the end the lonely gay guy becomes a James Dean, Danny Zuco-wannabe with the gang becoming his new found family.

A lot of people think that Alphas and Betas are a relatively new thing. It makes sense to assume so in a way. Alphas as we know them are pretty new, but that’s only because Alpha culture has changed over time, just like ours. There were Alphas in the old west, in the ancient world, and even going back to the beginning of civilization as we know it. Recently I discovered an old book where someone had written down a number of stories about Alphas from the past. I guess I’m not the first person to document their behavior. One story in particular stuck with me though, so I’ve transcribed it here. Hope you enjoy.

Caleb Sparrow was a complete and utter nerd. An unhip clyde with a reputation for being a bit of a spaz. The kind of goof all the cool cats completely ignored. He was only really good at one thing: not standing out. A part of him hated that he was the way he was, that he was a loser with no friends. But a part of him was grateful. For a secretly queer man living in 1955, he was actually pretty lucky. No one bullied him (mainly because no one noticed him), his secret desires hadn’t been found out, and he had a good future ahead of him. He knew that eventually he’d land a steady job, find a swell gal who he could get along with well enough to marry, and live the traditional life his parents had always wanted of him. A part of him was grateful. But a part of him still hated it all. Hated how lonely he was, how he’d never find someone he’d really love, how his entire life was always going to be a lie. But he was resigned to it. Until… he met an Alpha named Biff.

Biff was everything Caleb wasn’t. He was the hippest greaser in town, with a handsome face, manly muscles, a souped up rag top and a gang of fellow greasers to hang with. Biff had it all. Sure all the squares all said he was bad news, but he didn’t care. He had it made in the shade. He had a different betty with him every night. That’s what made it so weird to everyone when Biff suddenly started being so friendly with Caleb. Caleb didn’t know what to make of it at first, and was pretty sure he was going to end up getting beat, but Biff was… well he was dreamy, so Caleb let himself believe that he really wanted to be his friend. He had no idea that Biff was just looking for a new Beta. Turning Caleb into the perfect Beta took less time than you’d expect. Caleb integrated into the gang with surprising ease, all of the other members treating him like they had been friends for life, and as he began to grow closer to the group and Biff, he began to change.

At first it was a slight change in style and lingo, trying to keep up with his new crew. Then he shot up several inches and began to pack on muscle, which the 19 year old brushed off as an overdue growth spurt. But over time the style changes became more and more drastic and his body grew at an even faster rate. Soon he wasn’t just the new kid, he was the second in command, right after Biff. That’s why everyone started calling him Deuce. Just like everyone else in the gang Deuce was muscular, cool, loved cars and was obsessed with Biff. Deuce eventually even came out to Biff and confessed his love, but Biff didn’t wanna deal with all the issues that came with having a queer beta, so he ‘suggested’ that Deuce was actually a pussy hound like him. Considering how many gals Deuce has played backseat bingo with I think Biff might have overdone it, but just like always he got what he wanted. Another manly, muscular, straight greaser for his gang.

**hey there guys! Never done anything with Greasers before, so it’s probably not as good as my usual stuff, but I had fun with it. Hope you all enjoy. Might revisit the idea of Alphas throughout history sometime**

#muscle growth tf #greaser tf #muscle tf #alpha with a capital a #gay to straight

[ohlawdthebirds]

Ace In The Hole

Platonic!141 x Gn! and Asexual!Reader

Huge thank you to @groguspicklejar for letting me turn her drabble into a full fic. You can find the drabble here.

TW: Nothing huge, slight NSFW because sex is mentioned in this fic.

Synopsis: Price is fed up with how much Soap and Gaz sleep around. He's at his wits end until you come up with a solution.

And credit to @cafekitsune for these gorgeous dividers.

FREE PALESTINE FOREVER!!!!

Captain John Price was a lot of things: a respected member of the armed forces, a diligent leader, and an overall powerhouse of a man. He’d survived weeks of bootcamp, hailstorms of bullets, and targets on his life at every given turn. That all being said, he found himself wondering where he went wrong in life. When did he, captain of an elite task force, become mediator for his subordinates’ squabbles?

Soap and Gaz sat in front of him, petulant as toddlers, arguing over their latest paramour. The two of them shared a barracks room and were arguing over a “sleepover schedule” so that all of their “needs” were being met. From what Price had gathered, they currently had no set schedule, leaving them walking in on each other while with their barrack bunny of the week.

Not for the first time, John Price considered an early retirement.

“Ye cannae take the whole week, ye bampot!” Soap was indignant over Gaz’s proposed schedule, one that would give him Monday through Thursday, leaving Soap with Friday and Saturday. Sundays were off limits. Even God rested.

“Ah’m no lettin’ ye keep the lass to yerself. Isnae fair now innit?” He cried.

“Fair? You want the bird all to yourself, then? As I recall, you were balls deep in her most of last week. Nearly had to pry you out of her, you arse!” Gaz tossed back.

It was no secret that the two of them were sluts. Whores, even. John “Soap” MacTavish and Kyle “Gaz” Garrick had a penchant for sleeping around. They’d bedded no less than half their battalion, bedded a fair number of civilians during their leaves, and even bedded each other on a few occasions. Price would be lying if he said he wasn’t impressed. But with these conquests came the inevitable: arguing over shared partners and said partners sometimes fighting over who got to sleep with whom. It was ridiculous, really.

They continued on until Price decided he was actively losing brain cells. He slammed his hands on the desk and stood from his chair. Two of his best and brightest froze in their seats, eyes wide as they stared at him.

“Right then, is there any particular reason you lot felt the need to have this discussion in my office? Clearly you two don’t have enough to keep you busy. Seems I’ll have to change that.”

Soap and Gaz loudly protested, voices overlapping each other’s. Price was gearing up to distribute both a mountain of paperwork and multiple laps around the building when a knock came from his office door. He fixed Soap and Gaz with a piercing stare that silenced them, before calling out for whomever knocked to come in. You stepped in, brows furrowed over the yelling you heard earlier.

“Everything okay in here, sir?”

Price nodded gruffly. “These two were done anyways. Boys, you’re dismissed.”

Once Price declared something there was no pushing back on it. The man was immovable once he made up his mind.

The two sergeants decided it was best to cut their losses then and there and continue their argument back in the barracks. They greeted you on their way out, Gaz gently clapping you on the shoulder and Soap bumping fists with you. Price sat back behind his desk and retrieved a cigar from a drawer.

“I thought you were on leave today?” the captain said.

 “Still am,” you replied, “Just wanted to make sure nothing came up before I left out.”

Price shook his head. “You’re all good, kid. See you Monday.”

You grinned and nodded. You were about to move towards the door but paused, turning to face Price. “Captain, I know it’s none of my business, truly, but I overheard what Soap and Gaz were arguing about before I came in. I think I could potentially help you out here.”

Price’s brow furrowed. You continued, “You know how competitive those two get, right? Why not use that against them? Make a bet to see who can go the longest without sleeping with anyone.”

Price ran a hand over his moustache as he considered. It wasn’t a bad plan. It was certainly one that had potential.

“Could work, certainly. But you know they won’t just accept a bet without a good prize, right?”

A smirk crossed your lips. “Of course, Cap, that’s where this gets interesting.” You leaned forward, eyebrows raised. Price indulged you, leaning forward himself.

“I enter this little competition. A third person will ensure they won’t try cheating, since they’ll have to keep themselves accountable. The winner not only gets to decide on whatever weird schedule thing they’ve got going on, provided all partners consent of course, but they also get dibs on the good seat in the chopper on our next mission.”

Price sat back in his chair, mulling it over. “Knew there was a reason we recruited you. Ace, you might have just saved me a weekend’s worth of headaches. I’ll inform those two gits.”

You grinned. This would certainly be interesting, especially since no one knew you had quite the “ace” up your sleeve.

-

It wasn’t a secret that you were asexual, it just wasn’t something that came up often. You never officially came out to the 141, deeming it unnecessary. When asked whether you were dating, you’d brush off the questions by answering that you weren’t all that interested. When prompted further if anyone on base had caught your eye, you’d respond that you were too busy. These things were true in a sense; being a sniper for the 141 certainly kept you busy and even during your downtime you found yourself preoccupied with whatever hobby you’d decided to indulge in that week or hanging out with your teammates. You lived a full life and considered dating relatively low on your list of priorities. There was also something deeply hilarious about your callsign being “Ace”, though it was referencing just how skillful you were with a sniper rifle. Entering this contest wasn’t anything difficult for you. In fact, you thought it would be interesting to see how your teammates would rise to the challenge.

-

The first week after Price announced the challenge was probably the funniest week of your life. Soap and Gaz were indignant, which you expected, but they accepted the challenge, nonetheless. When Price revealed that you were also in the running, they made it a point to corner you at the shooting range. You were reloading your gun when they walked in. Soap was the first to approach you, striding forward with his arms crossed.

“So, Price told us yer the one who proposed this whole contest, aye? Fir wye?” he asked.

You placed the gun down and turned to fully face your teammates. “’Why?’” you repeated back, “Because the two of you were causing chaos on base and Price was ready to assign you cleaning duty for the rest of your careers. If anything, you should be thanking me.”

“Well, we’re letting you know that we’ve accepted the challenge. That heli seat is mine,” Gaz said. After his incident from last year, Gaz made it a point to sit as far away from the helicopter door as possible.

“That’s fine by me,” You turned and picked the gun back up, “Though, I’m sure this’ll be easy.”

Gaz cocked an eyebrow at you. “And what makes you say that?”

“Oh, nothing in particular. Just excited to see how this’ll go.” You cocked the gun and aimed it, firing off a round into the center of the target paper.

-

After finishing at the gun range, you headed towards the canteen to grab lunch. It wasn’t until you’d grabbed your food and began to look for your teammates that you heard laughter bubbling up around the canteen. You ignored it, moving towards the back table where Ghost currently occupied a seat. Ghost didn’t acknowledge you when you sat down, his eyes trained just past your shoulder. Your brows furrowed and you quickly followed his line of sight, turning back towards the door. The moment your eyes locked onto Soap and Gaz you nearly fell out of your chair in shock.

They were dressed as nuns, and from what you could tell, they were wearing legitimate nun habits instead of cheap costumes from Halloweens past. They strode forward, faces solemn and hands folded in prayer. Soap fiddled with a rosary his mother had given him on his first deployment. They approached your table, made the sign of the cross, and sat down. Ghost shot incredulous looks at the both of them.

“What’s all this, then? Halloween come early?” He asked.

“We’ve taken a vow of chastity, Lt. The ol’ Johnny and Kyle are no more. We’ve devoted ourselves to prayer and abstinence. We’re men o’ the cloth now,” Soap replied.

“Shoulda’ taken a vow of silence,” Ghost tossed out, digging his fork into whatever mystery meat the canteen had slapped on his tray.

You and Kyle didn’t bother holding back your chuckles.

“You do realize the nun habits are unnecessary, right? Price never said you had to wear them.” You said.

“Yes, but this shows that we’re serious about this challenge,” Kyle piped up.

You fixed him with a deadpan stare. “There’s absolutely nothing serious about your current get-up. But okay.”

The rest of lunch passed without much else happening, save for the occasional snort of laughter from other personnel.

-

The second week was just as nonsensical as the first. You knew the terrible two were up to no good when jangling and clanking noises came from them as they walked into Price’s office. The men sat, albeit quite stiffly, and tried their hardest to ignore Price’s hard glare.

“What’s all that ruckus?” Price growled out.

Soap had the nerve to look as though his captain were speaking in riddles. “Ah’ dunno what yer on about Cap, we’ve done nothin’ wrong. Right Gaz?”

Gaz at least had the decency to look embarrassed. You placed down the file you were examining. “What’s all that clanking you two have got going on?”

Soap wasted no time in standing up and yanking down his pants. You were met with the sight of a leather and metal thong with a padlock over the crotch. A chastity belt. The man was wearing an honest-to-God chastity belt.

The room was stunned into silence. Gaz hung his head in shame. It only took you a moment to realize he was wearing the same contraption. Ghost was the first to break the silence.

“Those come with keys?”

“Why Lt? You lookin’ to unlock me?” Soap smirked at Ghost, still a flirt despite the clear restrictions on him.

“I’m lookin’ to throw those keys out the window,” Ghost replied dryly. You caught Price trying to stifle his laughter behind his fist.

“Do those hurt?” you asked.

“Nah, but they do pinch a bit. Mostly awkward to walk around in,” Gaz said.

Price stood from his desk and passed over more files. “If you’re all well and done, Laswell’s got a few updates from last week. Give these a read.”

You had to admit, there was something comical about reading over confidential information while knowing two men in the room had actual chastity belts on. Price soon dismissed you all back to whatever tasks you had on base. You headed to the gym with Ghost right alongside you. Soap and Gaz clanked out the door and down the hall.

“How long d’you think they’ll keep this up?” You asked once you were in the gym, scooting yourself underneath the bench press. Ghost shrugged, adding more weights to the bar.

“Depends on how just how committed they are to this whole thing. Though I’m sure they’ll break soon,” he answered.

“What makes you say that?” Your hands reached up to the bar, readying yourself to lift the weights.

“Just a feeling. Adjust your grip, you’ll kill yourself otherwise.”

“No, seriously, what makes you say that?” You gripped the bar, raising up and lowering it to your chest before raising it back up again.

“On the field, those are some of the smartest men I know. On base? Barkin’ mad, the both of ‘em. Surprised they even lasted this long.”

You racked the weights above your head once your set was finished. “You’re probably right. But you have to admit, this has been a pretty entertaining two weeks.” You looked up at Ghost, who seemed to be deep in thought.

“Why’d you join this contest anyways?” He asked.

You sat up and turned to him. “Because I knew it’d be an easy win. I don’t exactly…ah, well, I figured it’d be fun to see how things played out.”

Ghost grunted in reply. “Fair enough. Now give me twenty more reps.”

You groaned as you made your way back under the bar.

-

As it turned out, Ghost was right. The third week was when things reached their breaking point. You were on the hunt for a missing knife, one you’d lent Gaz a few days back. Ghost’s words replayed in your mind; were the sergeants reaching their breaking point? Would they soon throw in the towel?

You approached Soap and Gaz’s barrack, fist raised to knock, when you heard a noise that froze your fist mid-air. There was the sound of rustling and grunting. You jumped back from the door.

There was no way…unless?

You stepped forward again, rapping your knuckles against the wood. All sounds behind the door stopped. You were about to knock again when the door swung open.

You came face to face with Gaz, his eyes blown wide and his chest heaving.

“Gaz? You alright? Why are you so flushed?”

Your eyes caught sight of a bruise on the column of his throat. In fact, there were multiple bruises. Before he could raise his shirt to cover them, you yanked down the collar.

“Hold it, what’s this? What’s this, Gazzy-boy?! You get attacked by over-enthusiastic mosquitoes?!”

Gaz swatted your hands away. “N-no, this is just-! I burned myself earlier!”

Ignoring his protests you shouldered past him into the room, where you were met with the sight of Soap trying to pull on clothes as fast as humanly possible. You paused in the middle of the room and inhaled deeply. The air stunk of sweat and lust. Soap, having wrangled himself into pants, tried to approach you.

“Listen Ace, this isnae wit ye think it is. We were just havin’ a chat, Gaz’n ah. ”

You turned to him with a grin stretching from cheek to cheek. “Oh really? Because I think you two were having more than just a chat. And I think I just won the bet. And this-” You whipped out your phone and snapped a picture of the two of them, clothes disheveled, and skin marked with hickeys, “Is enough to prove it!”

With that you turned on your heel and booked it out the door, flying down the corridor and across the building towards Price’s office. Gaz and Soap ran after you, yelling for you to stop. The door to Price’s office nearly flew off the hinges when you barged in, phone held out in front of you. Price leveled you with a glower.

“This better be good, sergeant, otherwise you’re runnin’ laps for the next hour.”

“Oh, this is better than good, Captain, this is great.” You upped your phone’s brightness and slapped it on his desk. Price leaned over, squinting at the screen. It took only a moment for him to register what he was staring at before his eyes widened. Soap and Gaz barreled into the room, out of breath and speaking over each other.

“Cap, isnae wot ye think-!”

“Ace is framing us! We weren’t-!”

Price's face darkened. He stood from his desk, your phone in his hand.

“You fools couldn’t last 3 weeks?”

The room went dead silent, and you swore the temperature dropped a little. For a moment you wondered if you made a fatal mistake.

Price stalked forward, nearly towering over the three of you.

“Ace, you’ve won the bet. But I’ve just realized that we only discussed the reward and not the punishment for this. Any ideas?” He turned to you and handed your phone over.

Gaz and Soap shot you pleading looks, silently begging for you to be merciful. And for a moment you wondered if you should make them suffer, make them writhe. But in a moment of mercy, you decided against it.

“You know, I’m impressed that these two were able to find those nun habits and chastity belts. And such high quality too! You think they can find maid costumes?”

Price’s face lit up with the sick delight. “Oh, I’m sure they’ll manage. And I’m sure they’ll wear ‘em for the next three weeks too.”

Soap and Gaz’s faces were masks of pure shock. It was at that moment that Ghost walked into the office, a cup of tea in one hand and a file in the other. He stared at the scene in front of him, turned, and walked back out.

-

You were wrong. The weeks during the bet weren’t the funniest of your life. It was truly the weeks after that took the cake.

As per your request, Gaz and Soap procured maid outfits, complete with fishnet stockings and kitten heels. They were met with raucous laughter everywhere they went. The only one with a modicum of shame was Gaz, and even then, you caught him strutting his stuff when he passed you in the halls. Soap was happy to be back to normal. He even claimed that the costume was a hit with his partners that liked role-playing.

You saddled up next to Ghost in the rec room one night, thanking him when he brought down your favorite tea from the shelf. The two of you prepared your drinks in companionable quiet. Ghost turned to you, spoon halting in his cup.

“I would say congrats on winnin’ that bet, but I figured you would.”

You huffed out a gentle laugh. “Thanks, Lt.”

Ghost paused for a moment, seeming almost sheepish.

“You, uh…you never finished what you were saying, back when we were in the gym. Said you ‘didn’t exactly' and then you trailed off.”

“Oh, I can’t believe you remembered that. Yeah, I just…um…basically I don’t experience dating and relationships the same way everyone else does.”

“What d’you mean by that?”

You stopped stirring your tea. A part of you wondered if Ghost would understand, if he’d be supportive. You knew the man well enough that he wouldn’t ridicule you, but not everyone was understanding. It often felt like being asexual was a fringe thing. You sucked in a deep breath. Regardless of anyone’s feelings, you were asexual. It was real and anyone who said otherwise could get a mouthful of your boots.

“I’m asexual. Don’t really experience sexual attraction, y’know? Like, when you see someone others deem “hot” or “attractive” or whatever and want to have sex with them? I don’t understand that, and that desire doesn’t really happen to me. It doesn’t mean I don’t have a libido, its just never directed towards any one particular person. It’s a whole spectrum.”

You ended your ramble with a sip of tea.

“Oh, so that’s what it’s called? Didn’t realize there was a name for it,” Ghost muttered. You stiffened, cup halted in midair.

“When’d you figure that out?” Ghost asked.

“Kinda knew I was different when I began faking crushes on people back in school. And anytime those “crushes” reciprocated, I was weirded out by it. I did have real crushes, but those came a bit later. I’ve dated before, and thankfully my partners were understanding. I even had sex once! Just to try it out. It was…y’know, it was fine but I’m still definitely asexual.” You trailed off with a nervous laugh. “Sorry for the ramble, but whenever people ask, I try to explain everything, so I don’t have to keep answering questions.”

“I appreciate the honesty,” Ghost said. He cleared his throat. He seemed stuck between wanting to ask more and wondering if he was asking too much. In the end, you looked over and said: “I have a few books on it if you ever want to read up more on the subject. They helped me out a lot.”

Ghost said nothing, only nodding. He gently clinked your cup with his before he turned and headed towards the door. He stopped at the door frame and looked back over his shoulder.

“Hey Ace?”

You sipped more of your tea.

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.”

You smiled.

“Anytime, Ghost.”

#super happy with how this came out; ghost and reader ace realnesssss #task force 141 x reader #kyle gaz garrick #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #captain john price #abby anderson x reader #ace! ghost ftwwwww

[ghost-bxrd]

So I've seen you post a lot about Dick and Calvin recently, and I wanted to know how you thought Calvin would react, in this Calvin gets adopted by Bruce kind of au, to:

1). Jason's death, in the assumption Calvin can't prevent it (And subsequently what he would do to Joker for it.)

2) Damian's early childhood.

3) Tim's Tim-ness.

4) How Calvin would react to the Batman Robin situation, when he finally learns about it.

I haven't gotten the opportunity to learn much about Calvin, but you have me interested, I'm a sucker for overly traumatized characters, and I am looking for the comics with him!

We can never have enough Calvin Rose content, that boy is so underrated 🥺💚

1. Pfpfpfpf you know for ONCE I wanted to go with “Jason doesn’t die in this Au” but you asked and I shall deliver hehehe.

Look, Calvin adores children. And it’s no different with Jason, whom he basically helped Bruce raise from the moment he came to the manor. (Bruce is a good dad here but emotions are not his forte. Calvin picks up the slack.)

So we’ve got a former Talon basically raising Jason, sharing a lot of his interests, teaching him fun escape techniques and pranking the others…

Only for Jason to die in Ethiopia. Beaten within an inch of his life and then blown up.

Because his birth mother sold him to the Joker.

Look, there’s very few things that make Calvin snap. Canonically it only happens when his loved ones are in danger/threatened, or children are being hurt.

And this one ticks off both boxes.

Calvin doesn’t kill if he can help it. Hasn’t done so since that one time with the Court, and that instance still haunts him in his sleep. But this?

Yeah. He’s not losing any sleep over killing Joker. He’d hunt the clown and put him down like a rabid animal. Cold, clean, and efficient. No drawing it out.

2. As mentioned before, Calvin adores kids. I don’t think they’d meet before Damian comes to the manor though, so no early early childhood shenanigans. But when Damian arrives, all entitled and clearly having been conditioned from a very young age, he gives Bruce a very deadpan “You do know you don’t get a discount for the amount of traumatized kids you take in, right?”

Damian is a stabby little shit that tries to kill Calvin at every turn. Dick thinks it’s hilarious. Damian becomes progressively more angry because Calvin doesn’t break a sweat side stepping each and every attempt. (Talon training pays off)

Calvin just lets Damian “burn off his excess energy” (“You do know he’s a kid and not a puppy, right?”) and uses the time the boy isn’t actively trying to murder him to child proof the manor again. Just to piss Damian off.

Having the kid try to poison him at dinner that day is so worth it.

Damian reluctantly warms up to Calvin over the next few weeks when the former Talon proves annoyingly helpful at setting up his room and helping him with training. (Although Damian turns his nose up every time Calvin obviously handles him with kiddie gloves. But the man point blank refuses to do anything else.)

3. Calvin spends a week around Tim and all his alarm bells for “neglected child” are going off like autotune in his brain.

Considering it’s still very close to Jason’s death tho it would take him some time to truly warm up to Tim.

Tim wishes Calvin remained as distant as he was the first year or so (no he doesn’t) because now Calvin has strictly limited his daily caffeine intake, is forcing him to eat at least three healthy meals a day, and actually set a bed time for him.

Tim is outraged (flustered) about being treated like a kid (like the kid he is).

4. Depending on who’s Robin when he finds out the reactions would vary greatly, but he still wouldn’t be happy that Bruce is taking kids out onto the streets at night to fight criminals either way. It remind him too much of the Court for comfort, grooming children into the percent assassin.

After a while though he’d realize that Bruce would love nothing more than for his Robin(s) to hang up the mantle and just live their lives to the fullest, and that they’re simply too stubborn and determined to fight crime with Batman to stay at home. With our without permission.

It helps that Bruce is clearly distressed and close to benching Robin whenever Dick/Jason comes back from patrol with a bruise. Never mind an actual injury.

#hello yes all the parental figures for Jason #this time Calvin is it #mom Calvin Rose #sorry I don’t make the rules he’s Jay’s mom now #Calvin Rose #jason todd #batfamily #dick grayson #batfam #bruce wayne #tim drake #robin #batdad #Damian wayne #talon #court of owls #this one got long again lol

[twopoppies]

https://twitter.com/sunfl0werv0l369/status/1793058612530598154?t=wIg5Pl9cjZ6rkzFGEoL1Xg&s=19

Hi Gina, H is in Italy and Louis is in Latam, so people are freaking out thinking they're done. Anything that happens differently than people think is reason for them to break up. Has this always been like this, or in recent years have people no longer had faith that they are together?

God, people are so exhausting.

So, no. There have always been people insisting they broke up, but not because of locations.

Before Louis was touring, there were big swaths of time where he was MIA, so it was easy enough to make an assumption that he could just as well have been on tour with Harry as he could have been anywhere else. And we had some pretty legitimate receipts and sightings at the time (2018 and thereabouts).

When Louis first announced his tour for walls and Harry announced his tour for fine line, it was very obvious that the two tours were scheduled in a way where they were very close to each other so that it was possible that they would have chunks of time off at the same time or be close enough that they could conceivably be seeing each other when one had time off and the other didn’t. Those tours were booked that way twice because of Covid. So, you could say the first time was a coincidence, but to do it a second time? I really doubt it. Then quarantine hit and the world shut down.

Once the two of them started touring again, it was so much more complicated because everyone was trying to reschedule their tours, so it didn’t look the same way. And some people decided that this meant they broke up over quarantine because somehow it’s impossible for people to consider any other reason that could possibly make it difficult for the two of them reschedule two world tours after a global pandemic.

Beyond that, people don’t really keep detailed records of where the two of them are like they used to. I think there are a few people who still do timelines, but it’s not as widespread as it used to be and so it’s harder to take a look at their day today and realize that they literally are weeks at a time where we don’t know where either one of them is. So what ends up happening is that fans freak out and think, “OMG, Harry is in Italy and Louis is in Argentina and therefore, they’re not seeing each other even though they could be and so they broke up.”

I’m sure there are other reasons, but that’s what I see most of the time. I do think the two of them are making more of an effort to keep their private lives private. People who used to have access to weird things like their flight schedules and frequent flier numbers no longer have that access (as far as I know). Receipts are very few and very far between. I just think the two of them have tightened things up and fans have difficulty with not getting constant proof.

#they’re still together

[narcissisticpdcultureis]

Not culture, but q genuine question I really need an answer to: folks is it okay to self-dx and not wish a professional diagnosis but still consider you have NPD and say that to people? I have read multiple descriptions of NPD from trusted sources for and by pwNPD, I match enough criteria (I think, I'll redo that questionnaire again) to be considered pwNPD and I really relate to a lot of experiences and struggles of other pwNPD and NPD ruins my life <3 /silly

But I don't want to get a professional diagnosis because... What will it give me? I'll just waste money on an old man saying I'm narcissistic in the most codescending tone ever, a paper and eh that's it. I already know I'm narcissistic, the paper will only give me "I am not a faker" rights (I'm actually debating faking having a diagnosis to not look fake) and won't give me any other rights at all, if I go to therapy it's more likely that I'll just go to learn how to cope with my symptoms and life in general better and not to prove that I'm autistic or narcissistic

So uh. Should I get a diagnosis? Do I have to get a diagnosis to not be considered a faker and bad for the community? Should I lie about having a professional diagnosis during discourses?

Thanks for advice in advance folks

heyo! from what i've seen, most of the community is pretty accepting of self-dx as a lot of us are well aware of how hard it can be to even achieve a diagnosis and the trouble that might come from it afterwards. i would probably advise against lying about having a diagnosis, but a lot of people would probably advise against disclosing wether or not you're professionally diagnosed online in general as you really don't really owe people that information in general.

like you kinda mentioned, therapy should be more about improving daily life and coping with your personal symptoms than about finding the exact professional diagnosis that explains everything, but if you fit the criteria and have done proper research, personal self-diagnosis is totally valid imo.

#not culture #npd #actually narcissistic #actually npd #narcissistic personality disorder #cluster b

[souls-page]

Page 31

“Like Orpheus and Eurydice, aren’t we?” He’d said as we were on the staircase of hell, voice clear amongst the chaos we've just been through, amongst the loudness of our breaths, unneeded but there.

He doesn’t know what it means, It's obvious he doesn't know, of course he doesn't, he never finished reading their story

But somehow that gives me comfort, to know he never got to the point where Orpheus lost Eurydice, to even consider that he'd lose me--that I'd lose him is far too hurtful to entertain

“I’d go to hell get you back every time, There no version of this where I don’t get you,” He said, hands coming up to hold my shoulders

his eyes are watering, his hands shaking, his breath uneven, and he is scared to no end, you can see it in his eyes

you can always see it in his eyes

yet somehow—somehow he’s still there, in front of me, holding me

with that smile on his face and even then as we stood there somehow his eyes still shone

He held me, hands rough and calloused—bruised from all the defending from all the fighting that he'd done enough for the both of them

Yet all the times he’s held me, his touch soft and gentle

As if I would break with just the wrong touch

He’d not been wrong—he’s never been wrong not about me

But now that they're out of hell, out of the stairs, out of the impending doom that they might lose each other somehow he’s still holding him

his hands still somehow find their way to him this time no longer soft, no longer gentle, his touch lingers, it stays-- not rough but he no longer holds him like it’s something casual

he holds like he means it, like he doesn’t want to let go like he’s…desperate

It was as if I would somehow disappear if he weren't touching me, which is untrue I'd never leave him even if he stopped touching me

even if he stopped being next to me, I'd still stay, because that's all I can do

The words trapped in my throat were never able to be said.

Anger, Shame, Fear

all in that order, He doesn’t want to lose me and I certainly don’t want to lose him

he still doesn’t know how any of this works, how feeling like this for Charles is okay when it's the very reason he died

but he’s so pretty to look at, the way his eyes close when he smiles, the way his hair frames his face, the way his mere presence lights up a room, the way his laugh echoes the way his touch makes him feel

ghosts don't feel, yet somehow Charles is able to make him feel everything

and he means everything to him

“I love you” He'd say it to Charles a million times if it didn’t mean having to sit there and watch as his face turned, twisted, a face that Charles had made that will never leave his head

if it didn’t mean he had to watch him try to mind his words so they don’t hurt him, if it didn’t mean that Edwin could lose him

he deserves to be loved, he always has, and he always will be, nothing he does will change that

But I don’t deserve to love someone like him, not him never me

#“I’ve loved you longer than I’ve known you” #creative writing #writing #creativewriters #writeblr #souls_page #soul writes #charles rowland #edwin payne #edwin x charles #dead boy detectives #dead boy detective agency #painland #payneland

[varpusvaras]

There was no actual dating involved when it came to being a royal.

At least not officially. Officially speaking, things started with establishing an interest, then doing some light mingling and talking that was strictly supervised, and then getting to have talks that were private, which, most of the time, were done by letters and other forms of messages. Then started the proper courting, which would gradually escalate to public courting, and finally to engagement. The engagements could last for a while, too, especially if both parties were young.

Unofficially, of course, especially during this age, all royals and nobles dated. It was just a bit of an quieter affair than other people tended to have, but it was still dating. Breha and Bail had definitely dated for a long while between their official talks and courting. Breha's parents had wanted to give her a bit more of a relaxed experience, as they had become a lot more careful with her after the fall. Bail's parents had been much the same, but Bail suspected that they were also secretly relieved over the fact that Bail had truly decided to adhere to his status, so they were willing to give him a bit leeway with some things, so he wouldn't feel pressured and get cold feet.

Not that he would've. Bail had been smitten with her from the moment she had said her first word to him. He would've given away all his other hopes and dreams, if that meant he could be with her.

Still, despite all of this, because of Breha's status as the Crown Princess, in public, they had to follow the rules. Which meant, amongst other things, that many of their activities before being engaged were severely limited by what was considered proper.

Not that Bail cared, again. He loved every second he got to spend with Breha, not matter what they were doing.

Walks were the one thing that was permitted to do in public from the very start. They did that a lot. Morning walks, if Bail was staying in Aldera and could come visit her before any other daily obligations. Afternoon walks, when the courts and lessons were on pause, and Breha wished to get some fresh air after hours of studying. Evening walks, when Bail could stretch his visit just a little further, when the city had quieted down and the stars were bright, and he could reach over without anyone batting an eye and hold her in his arms and kiss her sweetly, with his nervous heartbeat sputtering inside his ribcage.

They still did a lot of walks. Maybe it was because of nostalgia, or maybe it was so Bail could spend time with her after being away for weeks on end, and still enjoy Alderaan to the fullest. These days, their walks were longer and could take them far away from the Palace, as there was nothing that could limit them anymore.

It was precisely because all of those reasons why they were currently making their way up the trail outside Aldera. To get away from the city life and enjoy the clear skies and clean air, to clear their heads after long days of working, and to spend time together, as just Breha and Bail, and not as the Queen and the Senator.

It was a bit windy, but in all honesty, it also felt refreshing after spending so much time in the stale air of Coruscant. Bail glanced up. The lookout point was still some ways away, with newly constructed path of hardwood stairs leading up to it for the rest of the way. The view from up there would be spectacular.

Not that Bail was in too much hurry to get to the destination. Not when the whole way there was the point.

He turned back to Breha.

"I hope the path is not too steep", he joked.

Breha laughed.

"I have climbed higher mountains with much less paths", she said. She squeezed his hand. "I'm much more worried about you. The only thing you have climbed in a while are the carpeted stairs of the Senate."

Bail laughed as well.

"I climb those stairs enough times that I would already be on the top and back down again", he said.

Breha grinned.

"It's good to have you back home", she said.

Bail smiled back at her.

"It's good to be back home", he said. "I missed you."

"I missed you too", Breha said. She turned her head, and looked down, towards the city and the Palace visible in the distance. "The view is stunning."

"It is", Bail nodded. "And it will be even better from the top."

Breha didn't answer. She just looked out to the city. The wind was whipping her hair around and pulling it out from the neat braid they had been arranged into earlier that day.

She wasn't smiling anymore.

Bail frowned.

"Breha?" He called out to her. "Is everything alright?"

The wind was seriously picking up now, and was suddenly cold, like it was in the middle of the winter, instead of a bright summer's day.

"I missed you", Breha said. Bail tried to squeeze her hand comfortingly, but there was nothing in his grasp anymore. When had he stopped holding her hand?

"Breha", Bail called, and tried to reach for her hand again, but she was standing too far away for him to do so. He was already uphill, on the stairs, while she was still standing at the trail, looking down over the side of the mountain. She wasn't looking at the city anymore, just staring straight down towards the foot of the mountain.

"I missed you", she said, again. "Aren't we missing someone?"

She stepped forward. Bail hadn't noticed that she had gotten off the trail before she was already falling over the edge.

He had no time to move. He could only stand there as she fell, quickly disappearing from his view. He still heard it when she hit the ground, the hard cracking of bones breaking and the body spilling over.

Bail tried to scream. If he did scream, the sound disappeared into the roiling wind.

"Why did you do that?"

He turned around to look up the stairs. Fox was standing at the top of them, looking down at him. The red of his armor was casting a stark, red refliction on the stone surface of the stairs, that was spilling over each step, until it pooled beneath Bail's feet.

He had his helmet on, but Bail could still see his eyes. The sun was shining straight at them, but it was like he didn't even notice. He just stared at Bail with his dull, dark eyes.

They should've been golden. Fox's eyes had always been a mixture of warmth of a autumn bonfire, the same depth that reminded Bail of Alderaan's night sky, and a burst of gold every time light hit them, like the most beautiful sunsets casted over Aldera from behind the mountains.

His eyes should've been golden, with the harsh, white light shining straight at them.

They were black.

"Why did you do that?" Fox asked again. "Why didn't you help her?"

Bail tried to open his mouth to say something, to say how sorry he was, to scream and cry, but he could make no sound to defend himself.

It was because there was nothing for him to say that would ever erase his mistakes.

Fox stared at him from behind the black visor of his helmet.

"Why didn't you help me?" He asked.

His mouth didn't move as he spoke.

"I am right here", he said.

He was. He was right there, just up the steps. If Bail could make his way up in time, he could help him.

He took a step forward. His foot made a hard thud when it hit the stone surface of the step, and the red shadow underneath him rippled, and the ripple turned into a wave, traveling at an impossible speed up the stairs, all the way to Fox, who toppled over when the wave reached him. His neck twisted to the side and cracked open before he even hit the hard stone, and he fell down on to the step, his limbs splayed out and his head turned towards Bail.

He was still staring at Bail.

"I am right here", he said, even though he was already dead.

Bail tried to scream, but there was no air inside his lungs. It had all disappeared into the wind around him, to the wind that was now a storm and was tearing off the moutain from the ground, and Bail woke up with his breath strangled inside his throat.

He laid there for a moment, staring at the darkness above him, before his body reminded him that he could still breathe by making his chest burn, and Bail gasped and desperately drew in a lungful of air.

He turned to his side and heaved the air back out, before he realised that it was in the middle of the night and that he was not alone in the room. He snapped his mouth shut and tried to breathed back in quietly through his teeth and calm down his painfully thundering heartbeat while doing so.

Then he remembered who were in the same room with him.

Bail turned around. Breha was sleeping in the middle tonight, after Fox and Bail had deemed her sufficiently pleased and had wanted to keep her in their holds afterwards. She wasn't wearing much more than a thin nightshirt, and through it, Bail could see the soft, golden glow under her skin, showing that she was breathing and her heart was beating.

Fox was sleeping with his face pressed onto Breha's arm, his blanket for once not draped up all the way to his shoulders, for which Bail was very thankful for, since now, when he sat up and and leaned over, he could see the same soft, golden glow under Fox's skin as well, running as a line from his neck down to small of his back.

Bail could finally breathe properly.

He looked at them for a little longer, and then laid back down. He breathed. His heart was gradually slowing down.

There were tears in his eyes. Bail wasn't sure if they had appeared there just now, or if he had been silently crying in his sleep, while he had not been able to do so in the dream.

Dream. That was all that it was. A dream. A nightmare.

Breha was alive, Fox was alive. It had just been a nightmare.

Bail let the tears fall down before wiping them away.

It was a good thing they had had some fun before going to sleep that night, because it looked like both Breha and Fox were still knocked out because of it, and had not woken up because of Bail's distress. Good. Bail wouldn't have wanted them to wake up.

He knew both of them would be disappointed in him if he ever admitted that to them.

Bail let some more tears fall down, and wiped them away again. He listened to Fox and Breha breathe, and breathed with them. Softly and slowly. He should go back to sleep.

He couldn't make himself close his eyes.

There was a knock on the door. Bail blinked, and lifted his head.

The knock came again before he could do anything else, this time much louder, very much as hard as a tiny fist could knock onto the door. The slow rhythm of Fox's breath stopped, and he lifted his head up as well. He saw Bail awake as well, and looked at him for the short moment it took for his brain to wake up.

"Is it Leia?" He mumbled.

"From the sound of it, yes." Bail was surprised how level and calm he managed to make himself sound.

Fox hummed.

"Are you dressed?" He asked.

"Sufficiently", Bail answered. Fox hummed again, and pushed himself up. Breha was waking up now as well, and she rubbed her eyes and slowly propped herself up on her elbow as Fox slid out of the bed.

"Bad dreams?" She asked, her voice quiet because of the sleep clinging to it.

Bail knew that she meant Leia.

"Maybe", he said, thankful that it was dark in the room.

Fox got the door open. He didn't even get to say anything, when Leia darted past him, her tiny feet sprinting as fast as they could, her breath coming in high-pitched hitches. She ran around the bed and clambered up on it, pulling at the sheets, and threw herself on Bail's chest.

Bail wrapped his arms around her on instinct, his body moving before his mind could.

"Leia?" He called. "What's wrong?"

She only crawled up on him when he spoke, putting her little arms around his neck and squeezing.

"Leia?" Bail tried again.

"Don't be scared", Leia said against his shoulder. "Don't be scared, Papa. Mama and Buir are here."

Oh. Bail felt a sting of guilt. He had not wanted to wake Leia up with the nightmare, either, but it seemed that his feelings had bled over to the real world much more strongly than he had even realised.

"I'm not", he said, squeezing her back. "I'm not, don't worry about me."

Fox had gotten back to bed now, and flicked the nightlight on.

"Oh", Breha said. She sat up properly now as well, her brow furrowed in a concerned frown. "Is everything alright?"

She reached her hand and brushed her fingers over Bail's cheek under his eye. Bail looked at her, and then at Fox, who had a very similar expression on him. Bail knew that he had not managed to dry all the tears properly enough.

Bail patted Leia gently on her back.

"Yes", he said, and gave Breha and Fox a look, hoping that they would understand that it meant that they would talk about it later.

It seemed like it worked, because they both nodded.

Breha then took her blanket.

"Move over", she said to Bail, and moved closer to the edge of the bed. Fox took his own blanket as well, and walked around the bed, sitting down in the edge and gently nudging Bail with his shoulder.

With Leia still in his arms, Bail moved to the middle of the bed, and laid back down when Breha put her hand on his shoulder and just as gently pushed him there. Fox draped Bail's blanket over both him and Leia, and then scooted so close that he could press his body against the side of Bail's.

Breha turned the light off and moved closer as well, resting her head against Bail's shoulder.

"Go back to sleep", she whispered. "We're right here."

She pressed her lips lightly on the skin there. Fox reached his hand and put it over Bail's, where it was resting on Leia's back.

Bail closed his eyes.

#okay just a warning #this got a little disturbing for a moment there #so as a warning this has some imagery that are close to looking suicidal #but no actual action like that happens #but still keep that in mind #I finally gave someone else than Fox the pov in this au and whoop #I am so sorry Bail #but at the same time I wanted to explore his trauma and anxities a bit as well #Bail most of the time takes the role of the supporter and the one who comforts #even though many of the things that have happened have had an effect on him as well #so yeah. comfort for him as well please #the kiss roulette snippets will come later I had to get this out of my system first #sw #tcw #Star Writing #my writing #Post Order 66 AU #Bail Organa #Breha Organa #Commander Fox #Leia Organa #bail/breha/fox

[randoimago]

okay before the ask box closes, i wanna request something 👉🏻👈🏻

may i ask for cloud, zack & sephiroth (ff7) surprising their s/o for their birthday? maybe what gifts they'd get them, where they'd take them or something along those lines ^^

Fandom: Final Fantasy

Character(s): Cloud, Sephiroth, Zack

Note(s): Here you go! I hope you enjoy <33

Cloud

He has no idea what kind of things you like. He goes to Aerith for help with what kind of present to get you. Cloud ends up being scolded by her (and Tifa when she hears he doesn't know what his S/O likes).

When it is time for your birthday, he has a bouquet of flowers that Aerith helped him pick out. He doesn't really have many date ideas, so he takes you to Seventh Heaven because it's a comfortable location and familiar.

When you're not looking, Tifa gives him a look and she and him have a secret conversation before he rolls his eyes (at her nagging) and turns to you. He's a bit shy but offers you his hand as he suggests talking a small, evening walk with him.

Sephiroth

Considering he's a famous soldier, he's got enough money that he's not worrying too much about being able to afford a gift. Although, he still doesn't buy you one. The previous mission he was on, he managed to find a very pretty gemstone that he had fashioned into something you could wear.

Sephiroth doesn't say anything when your birthday approaches. He waits until you bring it up, a bit pouty that he "forgot". Sephiroth gives an apology and teases about a Loveless play that he could sneak you both into.

Instead, he takes you somewhere where you can look at the sky with him. He pulls some strings so you can get out of Midgar with him and actually see an unpolluted sky filled with stars. That's when he'd give you the gift he had made.

Zack

He panicked too much about what to give you. He knows your birthday is soon and there's just too many options of what he can buy for you. Zack almost says "Screw it!" and buys everything, but he doesn't want to overwhelm you.

Instead, for your birthday, he takes you around the sectors to various street stalls and merchants and let's you pick out the things you like, which he'll gladly buy you. He's done enough missions that he has the gil.

Zack is also hoping that he'll see something especially nice while he's spending the night out with you. He'd like to actually surprise you with a gift too, but most of his focus is with making sure you have a great time.

#frickingnerd #final fantasy x reader #ff7 x reader #crisis core x reader #cloud strife x reader #cloud x reader #sephiroth x reader #zack fair x reader #zack x reader

[allthelovenina]

Levi Ackerman x reader

Angst, sfw, slight spoilers for season 4

Something was on your mind. Levi could tell,, but he couldn't exactly put his finger on it. You were losing weight and those eyebags under your eyes weren't unnoticed by him.

It pissed him off. He wasn't pissed just because of your change of habits, but also, the fact that you haven't opened up to him. Why wouldn't you tell him what's bothering you? Wasn't he safe enough for you? Did you not trust him? Perhaps you thought you would bug him.

He had enough of waiting and giving you time. He was going to ask you himself. He found you in the common kitchen one night, you were drinking tea and staring out the window, at the view of the training field. 'Now or never' he thought to himself.

"Hey, brat. Why are you still awake?"

You turned to the voice, the short figure of his standing in the dark, in the middle of the. Kitchen.

"Hello captain. I could ask you the same."

He raised an eyebrow. "You know I don't need much sleep. What's bothing you? You look like you have a stick up in your ass lately."

You chuckled. His mannerisms when he spoke never failed to make you laugh.

"It's fine. Just...overworking. That's all."

That was a lie. The real reason you've been stressed out was you finally realized how much you loved Levi and that scared the shit out of you considering how fragile and unstable the situation of Paradis was. Sure, the fact that Eren was gone all by himself in the land of the enemy, the hatred your island was receiving from the whole world and the unavoidable war played their part. Perhaps if it was 2 years ago when things were much less complicated, you wouldn't be this messed up. But right now you already had so much on your plate and Levi was now a new topping on that. You found yourself constantly worried about him, it was ridiculous. You, worrying about the strongest man in the world.

Your sadistic brain kept you up all night thinking about going to Marley, only to lose Levi to their government. Oh if only they knew the power he possessed and the whole "Ackerman clan" history, they would capture him, drug him, put him in a cage and make him mate with random women like an animal just to give them more kids like him and omce they are done, they'll leave him with another tragic story. Same thing...no...worse implied to Mikasa. You were so worried about them yet, it was only rational to put those two in the front line because they were the strongest.

"You're a talented liar, you know? Except that I can easily tell when you're lying."

"I'm not. Why would I?"

He was annoyed, frowned and clicked his tongue. "Stress is nothing new to you, yet I've never seen you like this. No matter what you always been so..."

"Levi, it's fine." He stopped as you interrupted, and let out a breathy sight. "That tea is clearly too cold."

You raised an eyebrow, he could see the amusement in your tired eyes.

He didn't have to know. That's what he realized and why he changed the topic. He needed to stop and calm down. You'd tell him if you wanted to. He had to respect that, he always does that. He noticed the sadness and stress in almost everyone and let them be unless they reach to him for help, but why couldn't he do the same about you? Why did he had to know what was wrong with you? Why was he worried sick in his stomach?

"Let me make you another one, will you?"

"Hmm...I wouldn't mind. Thank you."

Fine, don't tell me.

The next few days were hell for him, at this point he was the one with a stick in the ass. Grumpier than usual, scarier than ever. Even Hange barely could find the guts to talk to him. They would ask you to deliver their messages unless it was something needed to be discussed faced to face, even in that case he asked you to stay by.

One day, he came to your office with a cupcake in his hand. He remembers the first time he ate one when you offered him and told him how much you loved cupcakes. He absolutely hated it. Too sweet for his liking that he could throw it up. He left the cupcake on your desk.

"You eating this crap is better than you not eating at all, I guess."

You smiled as you saw the cupcake and took a bite. The flavour brought back your memories of the good old days. Man, you'd never thought you'd be calling those days 'the good old days'. Nanaba, Erwin and Mike. Levi's old squad, your old squad, even the 104 cadets seemed so different now. The rush of memories brought tears to your eyes as your mouth was still full. Your shaking lips and teary eyes didn't go unnoticed from Levi.

"What the hell are you crying about?" His tune sounded a little harsh but mostly concerned. You couldn't tell him, he didn't need a reminder of the ones who got away. Swallowed the cake as tears fell your eyes and smiled. "Thank you, Levi..."

It was as if that was all he needed to hear to figure out everything. He patted your head with sad eyes. "Eat that all, please."

#levi ackerman x y/n #levi ackerman #levi ackerman x reader #levi aot #captain levi #levi