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#making them SUCH a well-knit unit
thatfandomslut · 17 days
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I Want To Marry You
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Regina George x Reader
Word Count: 1k
Trigger Warnings: description of making out, extra fluffy
Request:
Valentine's / Followers Celebration; Regina George w/ quote 57 with chocolate number 7. Or: "You don't marry someone you can live with, you marry the person you cannot live without." w/ falling in love
Valentine's / Followers Celebration requests are closed.
(Y/n)'s chest heaved, some hair from her bun slipping out and in front of her eyes. She and Regina had just pushed their beds together and they were now admiring their work. This was their second semester as college roommates, and they were rarely apart from each other. Even during their breaks, they called on FaceTime every day at some point. Everyone on campus knew they were together, except (Y/n) and Regina. Their tight-knit friend group deemed it to be a tragedy that it was taking them this long to realize their feelings for each other. They were beginning to wonder if they needed to help them or not. Instead, they just waited for the girls to finally realize their feelings themselves.
"Now we just have to put the full mattress on the bed." (Y/n) wiped the sweat from their brow. They went halfsies on a storage unit for the two twin mattresses that the college gave them. They knew they would have to return it to bed at the end of the semester, but that wasn't for months. For now, they stood together, wondering why they felt like this was the best idea given how much work it was becoming. They still needed to move their desks to the opposite side of the room and then pile the mattresses in the U-Haul they had gotten. "Are you ready, babe?"
The 'babe' would've thrown Regina off if (Y/n) didn't call everyone babe. It still did cause a tingle to shoot through her spine as she held the mattress onto the bed. "Perfect," Regina commented as she pulled out the sheets they had picked out together. "You know, we should get married," Regina said absentmindedly as she tossed (Y/n) her corners for the fitted sheet. The words caused (Y/n) to freeze for a moment as she thought about the right words to say. Regina, on the other hand, did not realize the depth in her words.
(Y/n) bit back a smile before she looked over at Regina, fixing the sheet to where there were no creases. "Why is that? Are you just that in love with me?" (Y/n) asked cheekily. As cheeky as she was, she was genuinely curious about what Regina had to say about how felt about her. She was hoping that this was the moment that she would hear the words that she had always wanted to hear come from Regina. Her fingers twitched as she reached for her pillow to put on the bed before they put on the final cover, staring at Regina expectantly.
Regina was now beginning to realize how deep her words had met when she had also frozen momentarily over (Y/n)'s initial question. "Well, I think the way we live together is amazing, nothing would have to change. We already have each other's schedules memorized. We have the U-Haul and the storage unit. Why not also just get married?" Regina teased lightly, trying to stop her heart from beating as quickly as it was.
(Y/n) turned on the fan she had over on her side of the bed before she laid down in thought. The other side of the mattress dipped, letting her know that Regina had joined her side. Their hands grazed together before they turned to look at each other. "You don't marry someone you can live with, you marry the person you cannot live without." (Y/n) told her softly. She had been falling in love with Regina since last semester, but the idea of Regina only wanting to marry her because they lived together well didn't sit right with her. Then again, why was she overthinking this? They weren't even dating.
Regina's eyes flickered to (Y/n)'s lips for a moment as she pursed her own. "I know, but… I want to marry you." She whispered, now making sure she put the depth in her sentence. "Obviously, we'd have to date first, but I want to do that, too. What you said is right because I can't live without you. I have loved you since Christmas, right before last semester." Regina told her, causing (Y/n)'s lips to part slightly in shock. She wasn't expecting any of those words to come out of Regina.
"I feel the same way, Regina." She said softly. They weren't sure who initiated the kiss, just that their lips were now crashing together as they ruined the sheets they had just made. But neither of them cared about that as their hands tried to find a place on each other's bodies. As they pulled away, they both adorned swollen lips and giant smiles. "I have been falling for you since last semester. I just never could imagine that you felt the same way. You're just… You're perfect, Regina."
"What's going on in here?" Their friend's voice could be heard as they entered the dorm. The door had been opened, so they couldn't exactly fault Sasha for ruining their moment. Instead, they watched Sasha's eyes widen. Regina laughed a bit, covering her mouth as (Y/n)'s face turned a deep shade of red. "I did not mean to interrupt. I'm very sorry, I should've knocked on the wall. We were just wondering if you two wanted to join us for dinner. Do you want me to tell the others that you two are busy?"
Regina stood up as she fixed herself. Looking over at (Y/n), she nodded softly. "Yeah, we have a date we need to get to. It's long overdue. But thank you for the invite, Sash." She said softly, watching Sasha leave with a wink. "What do you say for going somewhere special after we drop off the mattresses?" She questioned softly, glancing over at (Y/n) with a sly smirk on her pink lips.
(Y/n) grinned widely, standing up to kiss Regina another quick kiss. "Let me shower first, and then for sure." Regina watched (Y/n) leave the room with a giant grin, happy that she and (Y/n) finally got together. All it took was them putting a bed together to realize that they liked each other.
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chelscait · 7 months
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not on the same wavelength. | Ona Batlle.
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category: ANGST. proper.
summary: one jealous and the other uncommunicative.
word count: 1.9k. these keep getting shorter.
a/n: this was meant to be longer but couldn’t figure out how to carry it on. part 2 may be persuaded.
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You were entirely envious of your girlfriend when she got the offer to go back to Barcelona, your home town.
She had been reluctant to tell you in fear of how you'd react, guilty of the fact that she chose her career over you and your feelings.
When you were dropped from the B team and moved to England, you knew you had no real chance to move back there again. The board basically told you you weren't good enough, and they do and will never need you.
You had ranted and cried all day after that meeting to Ona, and that's when she offered for you both to move as far away as possible.
The words made you freeze; you hadn't a clue about how football was run outside of Spain and didn't know a word of any other language. Her idea made you scoff.
"Don't be silly, Ona. That won't work." You shook your head as you continued your pacing, rubbing a hand down your face in the meantime.
"How do you know? It might be good to get a fresh start, you know? Just us two." Ona shrugged as she fiddled with one of your pillows she held in her lap; it was obvious she was struggling too.
"What? You're willing to actually give up on Barcelona.. for me?" Your voice cracked in acknowledgement, coming to a still before you looked at her, playing with the necklace you were wearing, which sported her initials.
"Amor, I'd give up everything for you, and I'd do anything for you. Think about it."
"I don't need to; let's do it. Fuck Barca." You agreed as you climbed onto the bed next to her, enthusiastically pulling her down to lay on top of you, squeezing her as tight as possible.
"You don't mean that." She mumbled into your chest as you practically suffocated her with your embrace, giggling softly when her baby hairs tickled your skin.
"No, I don't.. but fuck the directors."
You spent the rest of that evening researching other clubs and their logistics, as well as shouting out each club name until you found one that was at least suitable whilst still being Barcelona fans.
You had both called your agents the next day, asking for offers from any clubs and telling them you were ready and wanting to leave Levante and Barcelona behind- a fresh start.
When one of the clubs you both agreed to consider popped up in one of the options asking for both of you, you didn't hesitate and signed for the summer transfer of 2020 to Man United.
It was perfect for the both of you- a relatively newly founded club with an ambition to score high- and that was just what you both wanted and needed.
To say you were the star signings was an understatement; you both practically carried the team.
You loved it in England a lot, and you always expressed your feelings around your opinion, but Ona never agreed. Although she did love it there, it wasn't Barca, and it wasn't home.
She was homesick, incredibly, and it made you feel like shit, and it never left.
You both had made good friendships within the team and formed a tight-knit group, which benefited the club's style of play; however, you could see Ona struggle, whereas you did not have that difficulty.
She had never been that outgoing, not like you.
There were many times where Ona was left alone, having difficulties being herself without you there, and she'd watch you do what she so desperately wanted to do but couldn't.
You tried hard to get her to join in, and the halfhearted letdown always made your heart drop. That was one thing you didn't want to happen. To become distant.
For you, it felt like Ona was further away from you than she would have been if she stayed in Barcelona, and it killed you.
You didn't know what to do at all, but she promised that this is what she wanted, and it made you feel bitter that she's making you feel that you are the one that's put her in this predicament; it wasn't.
You woke up many nights in an empty bed. Ona was somewhere in the apartment by herself, and you knew she wouldn't dare leave the space of her own home, if it even was.
You traced her side of the bed through the crinkles of the cold bedsheets before you forcefully closed your eyes and turned over, a single tear slipping past your barrier.
Neither of you fell asleep that night. Ona had crept back to bed, but you could hear she was wide awake, just like you, yet she didn't move or make a noise. She let you both drown in the unknown silence and wait for further communication.
Having kept yourself away from her, you didn't realise or know her state. How much she was bottling her feelings and emotions up, her struggle however made you struggle, and the air kept inside your bottle felt like it would explode any minute.
Grabbing your phone was an indication to Ona that you were conscious that morning. She was lying on her side of the bed, looking up at the ceiling with her knees bent upward, pulling some of the cover off of you as she stared at your side profile.
You didn't say your usual good morning and give her your first kiss of the day; she didn't realise that you knew and that she was hurting you, so she moved to snuggle up to you.
You kept your focus on your phone, though, trying too hard to conceal your emotions. The aura that was irradiating from you left Ona with the battle of actually looking at you or not, and your body stiffened as she snuck her arm around your stomach, making her stick with the latter.
"Are you okay?" She mumbled into your side, playing with the hem of your t-shirt to distract her from what was to come.
"Fine. You?" You curtly answered before sniffling, taking one of your hands off your phone to trace Onas side with your finger tips.
Your slight touch welled tears in Ona's eyes; she didn't want to feel the way she did yet she did, and her feelings will most definitely hurt yours, not knowing whether she'd get another intimate moment again if it all blows up.
She tried to keep the flow at bay, but she struggled, drops falling one by one onto your t-shirt before she sniffled, grabbing your attention.
"Ona.. What is it that you're not telling me? I can see you, all of you. You're not very good at hiding it." You frowned, placing your phone back on your bedside table before playing with her hair gently, caressing her head as she stayed curled up into you.
You could feel her trying to say something; her hard breathing was delaying.
"Lo siento. Lo siento mucho amor. I'm just... it's so hard." She cried and buried herself deeper into you, yourself responding by gently pulling her up closer towards you so her face could be buried in your neck.
"I know, but we're together, right? That's all that matters as of now."
She didn't respond, continuing to sob into your neck, and your hand hesitated its journey down her back before your eyes started to tear up.
"Right?" Your voice cracked as you didn't get your answer, your mind whirling in all different directions.
"I want to go home. I want to go home, Y/N. I can't take this anymore." She sobbed as she sat up, messily brushing all of her wet strands of hair away from her face.
Your heart dropped at her words, the guilt seizing you. You didn't know what to say, and you removed your gaze from hers before fiddling with your hands.
"This is football, Ona. You can't pick and choose; it's brutal, I know, but sometimes.. you have to make sacrifices to get what you want, even if it's hard. Barcelona is not on the agenda right now, and we're not on theirs; they may never need us. You have to understand that, Ona." You tried to convince.
You knew what you were saying were lies, as there were rumours that Barcelona wanted the both of you back for a while now, but you wanted Ona to stay with you, and you didn't want to go or let go.
"It's not just the club and football, though; I miss my life, my family, and my physical home. I miss home." She suffocated in her own tears, looking up at the ceiling to try and lessen the current trailing down her cheeks.
"What about me? Am I not your home? Your life? Like you have told me multiple times before."
"You are, but just a part of it, and I'm sorry.. but it's not enough. I am not satisfied with Manchester; I'm not satisfied like this."
"And you’re not satisfied with our relationship, got it." You whispered with a curt nod, pushing yourself to sit up a bit more and chuck the covers off of you.
"Y/N.."
"You know what, Ona? This was your idea, your fucking idea to do this, and your pinning all of your... whatever! on me." You began shouting after you got up from your bed, shaking your head at Ona's selfishness.
"I'm not.."
"You may not think it, but you are. I have felt like absolute dog shit the whole time we've been here. Especially these last few weeks, and I don't know what to say to you, Ona. I don't know. You're killing me."
"I didn't realise; I'm sorry." She mumbled as she shuffled closer to the edge of the bed, in reach of you. You allowed her to grab your hand before she rested her head on your stomach. Though you made no effort to comfort.
"Ona, I just don't know what to do. I love you. I love you so much, but I don't think I'm good enough to return, mentally and physically." You laid a dead hand on the top of her head as she wrapped her arms around you, awkwardly pulling you in tighter.
"It's okay, but you have to know.. I want to go home, and I want to do this in a way where we'll be okay.."
"Ona, it's not you thinking of leaving that is upsetting me.. I'm not stopping you. It's the fact that you have continuously lied to me this whole time about how you felt. It has almost felt like you haven't trusted me, and you don't trust me. It has really hurt me how I have known what you were feeling without you actually telling me."
"I feel like I'm losing you.." She whispered loud enough for you to hear, a fresh batch of tears finding home to soak in your t-shirt.
"You're not losing me; you'll never lose me. I'm losing you." Your voice cracked before you sniffled, hands trailing to Onas cheeks to pull her face away from you. You looked down at her as she sheepishly looked up while leaning into your touch before you bent down to place your forehead against hers.
"No.."
"I think the best thing we need right now is space. I'm going to go stay with Lucia for a bit; you can stay here." You pulled away, your hands reluctantly falling from her face.
"No, Y/N.. please, this will make it worse." Ona grew panicked as she let out a sob, her hands flailing to find your own again and bring them back to her.
"Please Ona. Just let me go. I'm sorry."
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potatomountain · 11 days
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CIY- CH 9
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Chapter Nine
📍pairing: detective ateez ot8 x detective afab reader
📍word count: 3.3k
📍network: @pirateeznet
📍Warnings: mentions of mxm relationships and death. depictions of violence
📍Beta readers (and sole motivation): @flurrys-creativity , @candypop1611 , @yourfatherlucifer, @yessa-vie and edited by the amazing: @daesukiii
masterlist | Previous | Next
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It wasn’t until the click on the lock resounded in your skull that you realized you were now in Hongjoong’s office, standing awkwardly before his desk still trying to wrap your head around what you just saw. He was quiet, only the sound of his breathing indicating that he was behind you: deep inhales and shaky exhales. 
Swallowing hard and licking your dry lips, you managed to call out. “Captain…?” It was all you could manage because where exactly did you start with the questions? Hell, what even were your questions?
“I know. Fuck I know.” Grumbling he moved around you and leaned back against his desk, head slumped forward. “I would ask you to ignore the things he said, but we both know that’s not going to happen. You’re too stubborn.”
Hongjoong had been neither welcoming nor unwelcoming until this point, seemingly giving you orders just to keep you busy or because that was his job, but really you couldn’t figure out the enigmatic Captain. You knew he valued the opinion of his team, the Vice the most, and that he would do things without an explanation and they all just trusted him enough not to ask. But you were also well aware some things that had been said just didn’t add up to what you expected a unit like this to run: maybe it was more so that it was things your unit would never say or do.
The sudden thought was jarring, a frown pulling at your lips. You shouldn’t be thinking about them when they weren’t your unit anymore- and they proved the way they did things was just not for you either.
Was it any better here?
Before you could dwell on that question, Hongjoong continued. “To answer one of the questions I know is in your head: yes we do have sexual relations with each other in the unit. Did you think I, or San for that matter, flirted just to do so?”
“To be honest, I refused to give it much thought.” You replied dryly, still reeling a bit. To think they would be open about sex with each other? Not only coworkers, but other men. How were they so open minded to such concepts but were so adamant about not needing you or welcoming you? Hell, Jongho continued on a daily basis to remind you that he didn’t like you. Did they think you were going to judge them?
Did they think you were going to be such a priss about it?
One glance at Hongjoong and you relaxed: of course, they thought you were. These men were a tightly knit group, and you were an outsider forced upon them. They trusted each other, now realizing on a much deeper level than you suspected, and they didn’t want you a part of that.
That shouldn’t hurt.
“But it’s not really my business is it? It’s not like you’re making me watch, nor forcing me into the same boat. Who you all fuck is really not my concern.” You clarified, attempting to ease the frown on his brow. 
It just deepened, your name tumbling from his lips. “We know it’s against regulations and policy-”
“And? You think I’m going to tell anyone? Would make me a fucking hypocrite, probably.” You scoffed.
He tilted his head in confusion. “Thought you didn’t do anything with your last unit?”
“Doesn’t mean I didn’t want to.” You fixed him with a hardened stare. “Not that they would’ve done anything, they are so adamant about following the rules. And I’d rather you not press. That is what you want to tell me, isn’t it? Keep my nose out of it as much as I can?”
His eyes widened a bit at your attitude, shaking his head as he stood up. “That’s not- fuck. You seem upset about that.”
“Why would I be upset?” Okay, the way you snapped it out definitely said you were. Trying to take a deep breath, you shut your eyes for a moment. “With all due respect Captain, I’m not here to get close or be nice; I just want to do my job and help where I can. One unit has already kicked me to the curb, I would rather that not be repeated, so you can rest assured I won’t do anything to draw the board’s attention. It would be the word of a troublemaker against yours anyways, and that is a battle not worth my time. So if you want me to keep my nose out of your personal life, so be it. Is there anything else you wanted to say?”
Opening your eyes to his mouth hanging open wasn’t what you expected, but the lack of immediate response was enough of an answer for you. “Very well, I’ll take my leave.” You turned on your heel with a hardened expression, reaching the door quickly and stumbling with the lock.
The door was slammed shut before you got to open it far, Captain’s hand holding it shut while the other caged you in. Again he muttered your name, breath fanning against the back of your head telling you just how close he was. You attempted to ignore the way your heartbeat skyrocketed, and the heat that tinged your ears.
“Yes, Captain?” You breathed out in response, hand still on the handle and not moving.
“I didn’t bring you here to warn you to stay out of it… I’m offering to give you an explanation to any questions you have.”
His tone was sweet, soft, almost pleading… and it disarmed you in a way you didn’t like. “I don’t have any questions right now, Captain. I’m still trying to process all that happened.” The questions that did come to mind weren’t ones you believed he could answer- no he wasn’t the one you wanted to ask. “When should I expect field work?” You asked instead, turning your head slightly and breath catching in your throat.
Hard to ignore how gorgeous he was when his face was right there.
“I’ll talk with Seonghwa, we’ll figure out how to implement you into the field and then Wooyoung and San will brief you before you go. Give us a few days to put it together, alright firecracker?” His thumb was on your chin, turning you a bit more so you were more face to face.
You felt almost hypnotized by how soft he was, the touch solidifying that even more for you. “A-alright Captain. What should I do for now?”
“How about you head home for the day and just relax? Go over your notes or go to the shooting range downtown? One of the others can go with you?” He ran his thumb just under your lip, gaze dipping before a second before locking onto yours. “Would you like that?”
“Maybe. I’ll take the day off then.” You weren’t sure you wanted to be here anyways. Not without looking at all of them and trying to figure out who fucked who. Wooyoung’s earlier comment about the Captain and his office got to you- maybe that’s why you were so easily swayed by him right now?
He hummed lowly, dropping his hand and stepping back. “Good girl. Don’t worry about the rest. Go on.” He stepped away and leaned back against his desk, giving you ample space to leave.
You were too flustered to do anything but nod and leave. Didn’t even glance at the others, just headed for your desk.
San, the ever knight-in-shining-armor rushed after you though, calling your name.
“Yes?” Still feeling a bit dazed, you glanced up at him, chest tight as you were reminded of his injuries. “You didn’t have to run after me.”
“You don’t look okay, I was worried.” He looked you over, bringing his good hand up to your forehead and frowning. “You look like you have a fever but you're not that warm.” 
“San- I’m just overwhelmed, please.” With much more calm than you were feeling, you reached up and grabbed his hand off your head. “I need to know though… about Wooyoung-”
“It’s just physical, I promise.” He interrupted, almost panicking. “He shouldn’t have- that wasn’t how- fuck I’m sorry you-”
You cupped his face, stopping his ramblings. “It’s okay, I’m not judging you or anything Sannie. Just… surprised. It’s… it’s just a lot to process. I knew you guys did things differently, I just didn’t expect this I guess? Don’t think this changes anything.”
He softened into a pout, bringing his hand to cover yours. “You fit in so well here sweetcheeks, I wish you knew that.”
You smiled wryly, pulling your hands away. “I don’t think I do. I’ll see you tomorrow, get some rest, okay?” You patted his uninjured shoulder as you passed him, not giving him a chance to prove you wrong as you rushed out the door.
You didn’t even grab your coffee.
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San returned to the back to see that chaos was one thin string away from exploding everywhere. Hongjoong stepped out of his office and fixed Wooyoung with a glare as he advanced.
“W-W-Wait a second Captain! We can talk about this- ngh!” Wooyoung scrambled back against his desk, just to be yanked forward by the collar. 
“What the fuck was that? Huh Detective? Did you forget you are part of this fucking unit, that you are technically working as a policeman?” Hongjoong gritted his teeth, nearly throwing the man to the floor. “You nearly fucked up a little too much!”
Wooyoung tumbled to the floor, grabbing his glasses that had fallen in the process. “None of you told me about her!? What the fuck did you want me to do?”
“Keep your mouth shut!” San was the one to belt the words out, stepping over to his partner and planting his foot into his side. “Instead you just rambled and ranted in Wooyoung fashion. How the fuck does she know you as Mito? She wasn’t supposed to know!”
Yunho pulled San back, taking note of how pissed he was. “She should’ve been gone before you got back.” He winced when San shrugged him off, putting distance between him and the others.
“Then why isn’t she? Will someone explain to me what the fuck I missed and why you’re getting all huffy over a broad that ‘should’ve been gone’? Huh?” Wooyoung looked around, spotting Yeosang and relaxing a bit. “Sangie?”
Yeosang fixed him with a slightly colder stare than usual, tension in his jaw. “You should’ve asked instead of questioning how none of us fucked her yet. She’s a detective, not one of the women your mother- you’re used to being around.”
Wooyoung narrowed his eyes as he pushed himself up onto his knees. “Were you about to bring my mother’s work into this?” His voice was dangerously low, the already heavy tension growing in the room.
Yeosang seemed just as taken back by his own words, shaking his head and glancing down at the drink in his hand. Wooyoung took notice, then glanced at San who was still watching him with a fixed glare. With a look of understanding, he stood up. “Got it, fine. Anyone willing to fill me in? Or do you want me to continue trying to fuck her?”
The way San straightened just confirmed Wooyoung’s suspicions. But it was Hongjoong that answered, arms crossed over his chest. “She was forced to transfer from her old unit. Higher-ups approved her transfer here-”
“Let’s be honest, they were hoping she would throw us off.” Jongho spoke up, reminding them he was there as he put his gun back together. “And at this rate, she will. Some of you are getting too fucking buddy buddy and that’s going to blow everything we worked for if she digs too much.”
“Well if she is going to blow it, Wooyoung just gave her plenty of ammunition. Should we move up our plans?” Yunho chided in, standing up and stretching. “Mingi and I already set up the bait like you asked. It’s only a matter of time before it’s taken.”
Seonghwa shook his head. “If she was going to be a whistleblower, I feel like she would have been given an offer by the higher-ups: give them information to tear us apart and all her bad rep goes away. With how much she misses her old unit, I assume they still might give her the ultimatum. What do you think, Joong? You pulled her aside to gauge what she would do with this information.”
Hongjoong shrugged, shaking his head. “Hard to tell. She said she wouldn’t, that she doesn't care what we do. I think she was being honest. You would know better though, wouldn’t you San?” He glanced over at him. “You’ve been with her the most.”
“She won’t. It’s not harming anyone so she won’t feel the need to do anything about it. And if she is offered redemption for information on us, she won’t do that either. She feels pretty betrayed by her last unit for kicking her this way, so she wouldn’t do anything that would cause us harm, despite some of us deserving it.” San snarled at Wooyoung and then glanced at Jongho. “She’s loyal to her own moral code, probably loyal to some of her old unit but she doesn’t feel as if she has to work with them to be loyal. Higher-ups won’t do anything to jeopardize that unit.”
“But the other enemies might. They catch wind of her-”
“Don’t even entertain that idea, Jongho.” San stepped forward.
Seonghwa sighed, sharing a look with Hongjoong. “I think we have to make a decision, as a group. Either way is going to be a risk. We either fight for her to transfer out, or we decide to integrate her.”
A chorus of protests rang through the office, some louder than others. 
“Then we fight for the transfer?”
Wooyoung scoffed. “Yeah no, let me get this straight first. That beautiful woman gets forced to transfer out of her last unit and ends up here because the higher-ups insist?”
“Apparently she requested it because they made her choose- and we are the farthest from her last precinct.” Seonghwa mumbled, indulging the information she had said in their office. “The board and commissioner just pushed it instead of trying for elsewhere.”
“Okay okay- so she is forced to transfer by the unit, the very people she trusted, and was hurt enough by that to go as far as she could from them? Yeah?” He looked around, some of them unable to look them in his eyes. “And it sounded like you all gave her piss poor treatment since she got here.”
“Sounds about right.” Even Jongho looked away, a little guilty.
Wooyoung scoffed, rolling his eyes. “And yet some of you are getting so fucking offended over my talk of having her on my cock- that right fucking there Choi San, you’re obvious.” He pointed at his friend who had stepped forward ready to punch him. “So we are just gonna- what- push her away and break her even more because none of us want to give her a chance?”
The atmosphere felt even more grim as his words weighed on their shoulders.
“It’s not as simple as that- we worked too hard to take that chance!” Jongho stood up, fire blazing in his eyes. “I'm not going to let her problems get in the way of what we already accomplished! So what if she gets hurt? If she can’t trust us or blames us for turning her away? You want her to sacrifice the things we have? Want this to be her life?”
“Jongho has a point- we accepted this, all of us made this our responsibility because of our own reasons, our own choice. We can’t expect her to do the same. Does she even have any ties, Yeosang?” Yunho glanced over at the quiet man, who just shook his head. “She made it personal over a dead kid she arrested a few times? Big whoop.”
San narrowed his eyes on Yunho. “When did you find out about that? It was just Hwa and I-”
“Heard you talking it over with her.” Mingi grumbled next to him, apparently in a sour mood.
Hongjoong cleared his throat. “Then I think you two would find that the most relatable, wouldn’t you? With your own experiences?”
Mingi scoffed, shifting into the chair but Hongjoong continued. “You could’ve been that dead kid Mingi, you know that. We all know that. But officer Jeong-”
“Captain, I know where you are going with this and please don’t. We don’t need you comparing her to my dead fucking father.” Yunho fixed the smaller man with an intense glare.
“Sure we do. If we keep her on, it’s likely she’ll meet the same fate.” Hongjoong was unphased as Yunho slammed his hands on the desk, pivoting on his foot to step away and run his now shaking hand through his hair. “So you agree?”
Wooyoung rolled his eyes. “Back to what I was saying! Our options are to force her onto another team, which sounds like she is the type to get in way over her head wherever she is anyways, or take her on fully and let her help. And it seems like you already gave her plenty of ammunition on the green vipers, which, I’m assuming is where her personal vendetta you so graciously mentioned came from? If we’re talking about that newest kid that got killed- who is to say she won’t do what some of us have thought of?”
Several men in the room stiffened, guilty of the assumption. 
San was the first to speak after a drawn-out silence. “She would too. You don’t have to spend much time with her to know she would. Fuck! I don’t like what you’re implying, Wooyoung!”
“I’m not the only one. Right Captain?” Wooyoung smirked at him. “You’re so pissy with me because I forced your hand too soon, but this was your plan? She fits in here, I noticed that and I just met the chick.”
All attention switched to Hongjoong, his own expression impassive. It was a gentle nudge from Seonghwa that had him speaking up. “She’s made incredible progress, even suggesting something we hadn’t thought of. Mentally she is a great detective, and strategist, and would make a valuable asset to the team-”
“You have to be fucking kidding me? You can’t be serious, Captain!” Jongho was the one to slap his hands on the desk now, sneering at him. “Absolutely not!”
“This isn’t just your decision Jongho!” San stepped over to him. “Test her if you want, but she does fit.”
“Maybe on your cock.” Mingi threw out, in an even more sour mood. 
San rolled his eyes. “Fuck you Mingi.”
“Come do it then.”
“QUIET!” Seonghwa yelled out, silencing the room and halting the movements of everyone; even Yunho turned back around to take it all in. “Your Leader was speaking, and you will listen.” 
Hongjoong waited until all attention was back on him. “I’m not saying she knows everything, or be completely involved right away, but she would be a valuable asset. So we bring her in, find a place in this all where she could be helpful but won’t infringe on our other works. A few months, maybe a year, and then we can decide. Either she trusts us, works with us, or we handle things properly. After all… wouldn’t be the first time a cop dies on the job, right?”
With solemn expressions, each one of them nods, calling out in unison “Yes, sir.”
Wooyoung took note of a few things that had him believe it wasn’t going to be so black and white… and he was excited to see how this unfolds.
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Taglist (form): @mingsolo | @wowie-hockey | @crispybaguettes | @tiny-apocalypse | @philijack | @lelaleleb | @idfkeddieishot | @isiloiale | @vannabanana1995  | @piratequeen-queenofgames | @starstruckforyou | @minheeskitten | @amphiroxx  | @cloudysannie | @sugarnspice630 | @hongjoongswifefr | @sanhwalvr | @plutoneu |  @sousydive |  @fatalt | @bts-army380 | @iwishiwasrichasfuck | @bitchwhytho | @st4rhwa | @thesafecafe
Taglist will be continued in a reblog!!
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kathwritesworld · 2 months
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LOVERS UNITE ☀️🌊
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summary: reader opens a surf shop and needs some help, so she hires jj maybank. so what happens when they fall in love?
warnings: none really, fem!reader.
wc: 723.
part two
you had just moved to the outer banks two days ago and already had your surf shop up and running. you were exhausted from the sleepless night you had, figuring everything out, but damn was it worth it.
it was 05.30 when you finally finished up and decided to get ready for your day. you put on your favorite bikini paired with some jean shorts and an old oversized tee. then you packed up your backpack with an extra bikini- just in case, a towel, your laptop, your surf wax, tanning oil, and lip balm. in your side pockets you put a tumbler cup of coffee on one side and your water bottle on the other.
you slipped your sandals on and went out the door, getting in your car to drive to the beach.
when you arrived it was around 06.00 and the sun was rising. you got out and got your surf board off of the top of the car, walking to the sand to put your bag down. you get your surf wax out and put a little on the back part of your board for traction then take your shorts and shirt off- putting them in your bag. then going into the water.
you checked your watch and see its 07.30, realizing you lost track of time while surfing and quickly got out. you dry off and get dressed again before packing up and going to your shop. when you get there its about 07.50, and making note of this you hastily unlock your store and walk inside, turning the lights on, right as you do that you hear a male voice “hey! are you y/n?” you turned around to see a blonde boy in cargo shorts and a tank top “yeah… are you jj?” you say, walking towards him, “yes ma’am” jj says with a slight smirk “oh, well its great to meet you! thank you so much for helping me out.” you say with a smile, happy that you’ll have some help around the shop “yeah, of course- hey why’s your hair wet?” he asks when he sees the water still dripping from your hair “oh- i just came from surfing” you explained “oh wow, this early?” he says, a little shocked “yeah you gotta try it! it’s great- really uh.. calming, y’know?” you say with a small smile. “yeah? i’ll have to try it sometime then” he says smiling back at you.
it had been a long day. surprisingly your shop was actually pretty busy, even though you just opened it. a couple came in and wanted surfing lessons, so you were pretty happy you packed that extra bikini. closing your laptop, you start shutting the shop down. you were so tired, but you wanted to go out to the ocean and chill for a bit before you go home.
the waves were pretty calm today, barely any real waves, just some ankle breakers. you decided to go out on your board and just sit there. the board between your legs, the sun on your skin, the breeze through your hair. it was great. you were looking out into the distance, watching the sun start to set, when you heard jj “you good?” he says, brows knit together. “yeah… just thinkin” you say, smiling at him. even though you two just met, you had a lot of similarities, so you got along pretty well. “its, uh, nice out here.. calm” jj says and you nod your head in agreement. a moment of comfortable silence washes over the both of you before jj pipes up again “hey… uh… would you- um like to hang out with me and my friends?” jj asks, nervous. you raise one brow at him before he continues, “they’re really chill guys- well ones a girl- i just mean-… i think y'all would get along well… john b would actually love to work for you! and you remind me of kiara a lot- and you’re smart like pope- i guess… i just think you’d fit in.” he says, stumbling over his words. “i would love to meet your friends, jj” you say so sweetly it makes his heart skip a beat. “yeah, yeah great! uh… would tomorrow work?” he asks, not normally this shy. “tomorrow’s great.” you say with a soft smile, trying to hide your blush.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
⋰˚☆ author’s notes ࿐ ࿔*:・゚
AHHHH FIRST PART DONE OMGG. uh i have like no idea where im taking this so… if u have an idea tell me rn pls🙏🙏
@rafeandonlyrafe
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bitchy-craft · 9 months
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Who Your Spirit Animal Is | Pick A Pile
Hello and welcome to this Pick A Pile! In here you'll find out what your spirit animal is. I hope you guys enjoy and find this useful. Do make sure to leave comments down below on your experience! I do want to remind you all that this is a General Pick A Pile which means this is for a lot of people; therefore keep what resonates and leave what doesn't.
Masterlist > Questions
Pick A Pile!
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Pile 1:
The wolf is a majestic and highly intelligent creature that holds significant spiritual symbolism. It is known for its strong instincts, keen senses, and remarkable ability to work together as a cohesive unit within a pack. Wolves are highly social animals, living in close-knit communities that rely on teamwork for survival.
Spiritually, the wolf represents instincts, intuition, and loyalty. It embodies the wild spirit and the pursuit of freedom while highlighting the importance of finding balance between personal freedom and social connections. The wolf encourages us to listen to our inner voice, trust our instincts, and tap into our innate wisdom.
Having the wolf as a spirit animal can teach us important lessons. It reminds us to embrace our individuality while understanding the value of community and cooperation. The wolf energy encourages us to lead with compassion and empathy, to support and protect those we care about.
Additionally, the wolf teaches us to navigate life's challenges by relying on our intuition and inner guidance.
Pile 2:
The owl is a creature of mystery and wisdom, often associated with the realm of spirituality and higher knowledge. Owls are nocturnal hunters with exceptional night vision and hearing. Their ability to see through the darkness and their keen intuition make them symbols of insight and perception.
As a spirit animal, the owl guides us to look beyond the surface and trust our inner wisdom. It represents the importance of deep introspection and the exploration of our subconscious minds. Owls teach us to embrace the unknown and navigate life's complexities with a heightened sense of awareness.
The owl's wisdom encourages us to develop our intuitive abilities, to pay attention to the subtle signs and messages from the universe. It reminds us to trust our instincts and inner voice when making decisions or facing challenges.
Additionally, the owl energy urges us to seek knowledge and spiritual enlightenment, to uncover hidden truths and see through illusions.
Pile 3:
The bear is a powerful and protective animal that holds great symbolism in many cultures. It is associated with strength, courage, and introspection. Bears are known for their physical power and resilience, as well as their ability to go within and hibernate during the winter months.
Spiritually, the bear teaches us the importance of solitude and introspection. It encourages us to take time for ourselves, to retreat into our inner world, and explore our thoughts, emotions, and spiritual growth. The bear's hibernation period represents a time of rest, reflection, and renewal.
Having the bear as a spirit animal can provide us with valuable lessons. It reminds us to be strong and stand up for ourselves and our beliefs. Bear energy encourages us to embrace our personal power and face challenges with courage and resilience. It also teaches us to find balance between activity and rest, reminding us to listen to our bodies and prioritize our well-being.
The bear's protective nature extends beyond the self, reminding us to care for and protect our loved ones. It represents nurturing and unconditional love, encouraging us to create a safe and supportive environment for those around us.
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greatlydelirious · 1 year
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𝐃𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐬, 𝐊𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐡𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐬
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Simon “Ghost” Riley x F!Reader
wordcount: 6.1k words
summary: The night that death granted you mercy you swore to never let yourself become vulnerable again. That was until you started to be haunted by a man who knew your feelings all too well.
warnings: smut, mask stays on, slight breeding kink, angst, injury, mentions of past trauma, super fluffy, established relationships, (Ghost is highkey obsessed with you)
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“Who’s your crew?” Laswell asks while sighing, exasperated by Price’s persistence. He swipes up the stack of files she got for him before going through them.
“Sergeant Garrick.”
“Kyle?” she recalls.
“They call him ‘Gaz’. He never said anything.” Laswell looks over the front of the file before he pulls out another. “John MacTavish, SAS. Sniper- demolitions. Goes by ‘Soap’.” Once again Price hands it to Laswell.
“Why?”
“That’s classified.” Price’s tone is even before he moves on chuckling. “There he is… Simon Riley.” When he places this one down, Laswell’s eyebrows knit, “There’s no picture.”
“Never.”
He softly whistles before saying your name, “… but she only answers to ‘Rose’.”
“Rose? That’s a delicate name.” Laswell arches a brow when Price lets out a dry laugh.
“Anything but.” Price taps the photo attached to the folder. The woman was mean mugging the camera with a hardened expression that made even him shudder and was the envy of any of the men who joined her ranks.
“Now the rest…” Price swipes the files back while staring down the CIA station chief across from him. “That’s need to know. Unless we got a deal.”
Laswell stares back at him equally stoic, “What are you calling this task force?”
A light smirk plays on Price’s lips, “1-4-1.”
Sweat percolates from every inch of your skin as you make your way to your designated post. The heavy fatigues and protective gear that use to bother you now act as a comforting weight. A reminder of where you are and the mission you are about to accomplish with your team. Not some sissy team, but Task Force 141; a special operations task force military unit that housed the best and… wildest.
Wildest was far more apt than the word brightest to describe the band of seasoned soldiers Captain Price brought together. He recruited you from the United States military special force known as 75th Ranger Regiment. Anyone who has met someone you fought alongside knew the female killing machine that holds the moniker “Rose”.
At first, you wanted to decline Price’s proposition to join. You’d worked under the command of General Shepherd before during your time with the U.S. Army Rangers, but you were still hesitant. After surviving unspeakable horrors in Afghanistan, you became far too deep in your itch to maim and kill.
Not only did you need the structure being a part of a force gave you, but the thrill. When your old captain tried to give you a base job after recovering from severe injuries you went berserk. Hell, you were even moments away from joining the French Foreign Legion. Of course, Price caught wind of this and promised to put you to work. Luckily for him, he kept up his promise.
You are a specially trained fucking soldier; not a rookie, not a gun polisher, but a sharpshooter that rivaled the likes of Simon “Ghost” Riley. The statement might sound crass, but you didn’t have the luxury to lapse in confidence. Every corner you turn, every order you follow, and every shot you take must be concise and without a shred of hesitation. This wasn’t fun and games, it was life and death.
Well… maybe it’s a little bit of fun sometimes.
Scuffling noises and grunts fill the coms until they abruptly cease.
“Rose, do you copy?”
Silence.
“Answer me, Rose. Do. You. Copy.” Now the question turned into gritted demands. Each word leaves a sharper bite than the last.
Silence is the only answer yet again. Before Ghost can crush the radio in his steely grip, static meets his ears.
Grunting you push the now limp body on your chest to the ground. “Copy Lt.” Blood audibly squelches as you reclaim your knife. “Can’t get rid of me that easily.” Wiping the trusty blade on your pant leg you chuckle at a joke in your head, “What has two arms, two legs, and ten holes?
Soap can be heard groaning. You are just as bad as Ghost when it comes to so-called “army humor”. “You gotta be fuckin’ kiddin-“ Someone clicks their mic to cut off Soap’s grumbling.
“What?” A gravelly voice that gives you goosebumps plays along.
“The guy I just stabbed.”
“Ten holes huh?”
“Men have nine, thought he could use an extra one in the neck.”
“You’re bloody sick.”
“No, I’m quite blood free right now and I don’t have a stuffy nose. Thanks for your concern.”
A deep huff cuts through the coms and you recognize it as Ghost’s version of a laugh. Triumph fills you with being the one to elicit that rare sound. Thankfully, no one else was around to catch the subtle blush rising on your cheeks.
Focus, Rose.
“What do you call a Russian sniper from the Soviet Army who never misses his target?” Ghost asks you right after you finish clearing the hallway that held the stairway leading to the roof of the building.
“Go on.” You encourage as you start to make your ascent.
“The most skilled marxman in the military.” Now that had to be the most military dad joke you’ve ever heard.
“Please tell me you’re at your spot Rose.” Soap once again groans and for a second he regrets every decision that got him stuck with the two of you.
With an amused lilt in your voice, you push open a metal door, cold night air giving a second of reprieve against your hot skin. “Fortunately for you and unfortunately for me, affirmative.”
Taking a deep breath, you crouch before setting your M21 EBR sniper rifle on the edge of the roof and maneuvering the ACOG Scope attached. The semi-automatic rifle has extremely low recoil and you liked its dual use for medium and longer ranges. Other soldiers had a hard time with the scope’s slight sway, but you tamed the gun how one would a horse; using a subtle, soft touch to steer it in the right direction.
Electricity thrums through you as you anticipate what is about to take place. You adjust your scope until you’re finally focused on the building across the street. Standing behind one of the windows was your target, Nabeel Bashar, drinking and laughing with other men in the room.
Nabeel Bashar is a close associate of Hassan Zyani and one of the lower-ranked leaders in the terrorist organization Al-Qatala. Although he’s not important enough to give you information you don’t already have, his death is important enough to make an impact.
That’s it Nabeel. Move one more inch to the left and I got you.
Your leather gloves slightly squeak as you adjust the grip on your sniper rifle. The gun is an extension of yourself, and it’s about to send a message to Hassan. After a few minutes that feel like hours, the man steps perfectly into your line of sight.
“Rose to Bravo 0-6. I’m in position and have a clear shot.”
“Hold your position until Ghost gives the order.”
“Copy.”
Captain Price’s command sits at the forefront of your mind as your anticipation grows. You might have an itchy trigger finger, but you’re too seasoned to pull it prematurely. Years of training and discipline that started when you were a child kept you steadfast in waiting.
To say your father was proud of you was an understatement. As a U.S. Army Vietnam Veteran, he was a stickler for raising tough kids. Sprain something? Walk it off. Lose at a sport? Try harder. His motto is, “When all else fails, your mind is the only thing that can save you.” Advice that not only helped save your life but was engrained in your bones.
Over the years and during your time in Afghanistan, you accrued accomplishments and honorary medals that you thought of as just “chest candy,” but your father gladly took them to display in his living room to show off to his fishing buddies. Based on the way he constantly brags about you; you are most definitely his favorite.
So much so that he has more than once grilled you endlessly about the man you told your mother about. Simply calling him a man didn’t do enough justice though. Simon “Ghost” Riley isn’t just an apparition, but a carnal animal outside and inside the bedroom. Unforgivingly rough as he gets to what he wants while thrumming with a deathly power that practically begs for someone to challenge him.
Unsurprising to everyone, that’s what you did when you joined Task Force 141. The tales of the heartless Lieutenant with the seemingly permanent skull-patterned balaclava never scared you. If anything, it made you want to test your sparring skills with him. When you finally convinced him to practice with you and he managed to pin you down after an hour, he was far more than impressed. Intrigued, surprised, and aroused captured the essence of how he felt.
Ghost admires your brutality. You never hesitate, never give anyone the inkling that you’ll be an easy target. Some would say the element of surprise could work in your favor, but you like a rough fight. If you’re not feeling the aching reminder of it the next day, you don’t feel like you won. That philosophy may be dangerous, but that’s what Ghost loves about you.
Yet what he covets the most is the vulnerability you gave him the pleasure of witnessing. Everyone got to see the bloodthirsty soldier, but he got to see the resilient woman who soaked in her complex emotions behind closed doors. A woman who liked his stern voice and uncharacteristically soft touches.
You always melted in his hands like a kitten snuggling close for warmth. At times the rumbled moans that came straight from your chest even sounded like purrs. Ghost craved that soothing sound. A rare sign of mindless comfort from his “pretty rose.”
“Red Rose” was the full cover name you were given. You were as fresh as a rose when you joined the 75th Ranger Regiment, the only experience under your belt being from your short time in the army. During those beginning years of your career it was just “Rose”, but it became far too tame to describe the person you are now.
Anytime you clean sweep a room that had more than enough men to overpower you, Gaz said you “painted the roses red”. Are you a part of Task Force 141 if you didn’t have a sense of dark humor?
Like any rose, thorns covered the outside of you, not a protective shield, but a visible threat that you will bite back when handled. It wasn’t a secret what was done to you; as unspeakable as it may be. Not only did your mind plague you with vivid memories in the middle of the night, but it manifested physically as well.
Deep scars that left phantom pains in their wake littered your body. No matter how hard you itched or rubbed the pangs hit you with a vengeance. They were etched reminders of not only the pains of living but the miracle of survival. You were deeply respected for surviving what you went through, but it morphed into fear when you continued to be a part of the force.
Some people let the venom of the past take them down, but others will use the searing pain as motivation to push forward. You’re the latter.
Despite your hardened exterior and savage nature amidst combat, you get along with your team swimmingly. Yes, you snap, bark, and bite, but like any good Doberman when someone shows you they are trustworthy, you are fiercely loyal. And by this point, 141 felt more like home than anywhere else. They treated you like any other man on the team and would take a bullet for you without hesitation.
The only thing that was akin to what you feel like, is a Doberman shaking with the excitement for its next command. All you needed was that one word. Once you get that command the metaphorical leash can be dropped so the beast can attack.
“Shoot.”
In a millisecond your finger pulls the trigger. Glass shattering mixed with the whistling shot is like music to your ears, a symphony of justice executing its judgment. You watch as Nabeel Bashar falls limply to the ground, the hole in his head forming a crimson puddle underneath him. Pulling away from your rifle you grab your radio, “Nabeel’s down. Enemy K.I.A.”
One down.
“Clean shot, Rose.” Price praises through the coms. “Now let’s get you-“
Yelling erupting below makes your focus turn to the street. Stationed soldiers yell in a language you don’t understand while rushing into the building you’re in.
Shit.
You manage to duck when bullets ricochet off the concrete next to you, making dust spread in the air. “I’m under fire and they’re making their way inside.” You have to practically scream to be heard over the sudden gunfire. The cadence of your voice held not even a semblance of a quiver as you barked the information. You’ve stared at the face of death before; you can do it again.
“You will do it again.” Ghost’s voice pops in your head almost in a warning. The last time you were trapped in a situation like this you had the infamous man alongside you. Except then you had a nasty stab wound to your side and Ghost had even nastier gunshot wounds to the thigh and shoulder.
Enemies are everywhere. Stray bullets whizz past your head as you make it into the empty house with half of Ghost’s weight against your hip. The plan didn’t go awry, but totally nuclear. Now you both are left surrounded and injured. Concerningly so based on the dark stain your partner was leaving on the floor. He tried to help you barricade the room, but the moment he started to tip to the ground you helped him sit down. No matter how bullheaded he is, he can only withstand so much blood loss.
Ghost’s head slowly starts to fall forward as he sits against the wall. The chopper is on its way and the only body you planned to haul with you was a breathing one. Thick fabric meets your palm as you slap Ghost awake. Even though he is sluggish, he captures your wrist before you can step back. When you try to tug out of his grip, he only squeezes harder.
You opt to instead crouch in front of him, eyes blazing, “If you leave me now, I’ll come after you.”
When he simply blinks at you, you move your face until it’s inches away from his masked one. “Do you hear me, you bloody bastard? I mean it.”
A wet chuckle leaves the man below you, “Bloody, eh? I’ve rubbed off on yah already?”
“Make it through this and you can rub off on me all you want.” Now Ghost truly laughs despite himself. Despite the pain. Jokes made the hurt go away, mental or physical, but what really made the bleeding man tick was the way your eyes twinkled with promise. You truly do mean it.
Slippery fingers intertwine as Ghost holds your other hand as well. Despite the danger and the blood, there was something so intimate about his touch.
“Deal.”
That was the night you officially fell in love with Simon “Ghost” Riley.
“Backup is on its way now. Stand your ground, Rose.” Price’s words are meant to be comforting, but they only make you curse.
You know the team is set up in houses nearby, but these men are coming in fast. The sound of heavy footsteps pounding against metal steps further confirms your thought. Rolling your shoulders, you let a cold smile spread across your face.
Game on.
-
“Fuckin’ hell…” Ghost couldn’t help but breathe out the words when he finally makes it to you. He’s never mowed down enemies so fast. Any person who got in his way was given a swift death, and apparently, so did any in yours.
You’re a vision in red. Blood and entrails cling to your body as you stand in the middle of the wreckage. Fingers still twitched around the blades in both your hands, sniper rifle long forgotten somewhere. When your bullets ran out you opted to use it as a baton, cracking enemies until it got lost during a scuffle. Bodies are strewn across the rooftop like it was nothing. Like it was normal for someone to have the capabilities to fight all these men by themself; let alone a woman half their size.
Ghost has never seen anything more breathtaking. The gore only illuminates the primal energy that surged through you, through him. Every instinct urges him to run to you, feel you, and claim you just as you are now.
Wouldn’t be the first time.
With a shaky laugh, you sheath your weapons, not looking away from the man in front of you. The air is fraught with tension not stemming from the surprise attack. “Sorry, you missed the party, sir. I hope you can forgive me.” Your voice practically keens with a desire only Ghost can quell.
“Sir”, a formality laced with sin that unfurls from your tongue to snake into his ears. The sound of it coming from you so desperately, so needy, for him, calls to every fiber of Ghost’s being. You take without recourse every day; lives, commands, jests, anything you could while leaving nothing in return. Until it came to him. That three-letter title was you giving your power over to Ghost. An exchange of trust that never ceased to rock him to his core.
A grunt is given to you in response. A silent warning that said, “If you keep it up with that, I can’t be held accountable for what happens next.”
You knew that verbatim since the last time he grunted like that and you continued to push his limits, you were left with such a bad limp the next day that Captain Price made you go to medical for a check-up since he was convinced you were injured. Technically with how bad you were aching, it did qualify as an injury, but the dull throb between your legs indicated it was the good kind.
Before Ghost can make a step forward, Soap and Gaz run up in quick succession. They stop short just as Ghost did as they also take in the sight. Dark eyes continue to stay transfixed on you. Almost like you were the only person in the whole city.
Although, after a couple of minutes of three pairs of eyes ogling you, you decide you had enough for one day. Exasperated, you reach for your radio, “All clear Captain.”
-
By the time the team makes it to the safe house, you are utterly drained. Everything aches. The thick layer of sticky human splatter covering your form begins to gnaw at your senses. The lights feel too bright, the air too hot, and the atmosphere too quiet.
You tug off the pounds of clunky armor and gear, tossing it on an open countertop like the others. For a moment you just stare at the items. The dismantling got the surface mucked with dirty substances. Not only that but your hands, arms, and the sweat rolling down your forehead makes it spread even more.
Dirty. Dirty. Dirty. The mantra leaves you frozen, not knowing what to do, not knowing what else to say.
Someone pats you firmly on the shoulder, “I’ll take care of it, eh? Go clean up. Lord knows you deserve it.”
You can’t distinguish the voice of who’s talking when your feet begin to move at the command before your mind can register it. Normally you didn’t become this frazzled so soon, but you haven’t had time to be alone for weeks now. No time to scream into a pillow or cry in your room or feel his touch.
Every high has a crash, and you are free-falling. Fast.
Soap lets out a sigh of concern before grabbing a rag to start getting to work. He doesn’t say anything when he sees a dark shadow larger than your own follow you down the hallway.
When the bathroom door closes seemingly by itself you don’t hesitate. Nails scratch your skin as you practically tear off the clothes clinging to you. When you hear the fabric of your shirt rip you don’t care. You don’t have the wherewithal to even try. Yanking back the curtain, you blindly search for the handle. When water starts pouring down you practically jump into the shower.
You arch your head back into the stream of water. Clear, turns red, then turns black with the mixture of blood and soot as it sinks into the drain, taking your adrenaline with it. Limbs quake and memories flood uninvited into your brain. To escape the onslaught of emotions you close your eyes and try to focus on the sounds around you. Water is dripping, slipping, and sliding in your mouth. Water that was meant to soothe, but once smothered you and used as a tool to make you talk, to make you break.
Large hands encompass the sides of your head and pull you from the stream internally ripping you apart. Only then do you hear the sobs spilling from your mouth. Your eyes fly open and are confronted with misty blue ones surrounded by pitch blackness, equally searching and equally pained. Pained not only for you but for the fact that he knows exactly what you’re feeling. He knows how the past is twisting your guts until the only thing your body wants to do is destroy or be destroyed.
“Focus, angel.”
The words come out in a deep yet soft command. A shiver travels across your skin and an ache settles in your heart. Ghost is here with you. You aren’t in that place anymore. Your hands cling so desperately around his wrists as if he would drift away at any moment. Like he’s the answer to your salvation.
In actuality, you’re his.
With a harsh tug, hungry lips slam into yours. You hadn’t noticed that his balaclava was pushed up, but you couldn’t be more relieved to truly feel him. The kiss is as possessive as it is sloppy. Tongues don’t dance but spar as Ghost uses his grip on your head to keep you locked in place. Not that you would ever dream about pulling away.
He tastes of metal, grit, and something addictively sweet. He’s like one of those candies in sketchy wrapping, but when you pop it in your mouth it’s the best thing to ever grace your tastebuds. Moaning you back up against the cold shower wall to make room for the large man. His lips only move to start descending on your neck. Lips and teeth and tongue tease with a fiery passion that make you gasp at each little assault of his mouth on your skin.
Something hard presses against your slick stomach as Ghost blankets your body with his own. He towers over you not only in stature but width. Your body is perfectly hidden in front of his own like a human shield. The pure notion of what he can do to you makes heat pool in your core.
Your sudden reaction doesn’t go unnoticed. They seldom do.
A thick finger instantly meets your folds, sliding through the wet sensitive flesh in agonizingly slow pets. Ghost lets out a satisfied grunt at how willing and wet you already are for him. He pushes the digit inside your pussy with ease. You desperately grab his biceps to keep yourself from melting into a puddle at his touch.
“Please.” The wobbled plead comes out like a mewling kitten. When you say it so sweetly how could he ever deny you? When a second finger joins the first the delightful stretch that follows makes your nails dig into his taut skin. Ghost doesn’t pause as he begins to fuck you with deep, slow thrusts. Fingers curve to hit the spongy sweet spot inside your pussy that has you clenching around him like a vice.
The hardness against your stomach twitches at the sound, feel, and look of you. So devastatingly perfect, devastatingly his.
In your haze, you look down at where his body meets yours. Each stroke of his fingers makes you dizzy, but all you can focus on is his cock. The tip is ruby red as it throbs and leaks with precum with the anticipation to take you.
“Simon.” His head snaps up to search your face. The name comes out in a whisper as your eyes say a thousand more words you can’t possibly string together in a coherent sentence.
His lips ghost the shell of your ear, “My strong girl did so well today. She deserves my cock don’t yah think?” You feebly nod, unable to make any sounds except for pathetic moans. Strong hands lift your legs so they’re dangling atop his muscular thighs. He’s like a makeshift seat as he keeps your back pressed against the wall to keep you propped up for him. Now the head of his cock is resting between the lips of your sex.
Breath eludes you as you watch Ghost look at where your bodies are joined. He gently rocks against your pussy, rubbing your clit with each slow stroke. The new position leaves you no room to buck against him. You’re completely left at his mercy.
“…so fuckin’ pretty.” The admiring words rumble from his chest as he finally pushes inside. It’s almost too much. His cock never fails to split you open to the point that you think you might rip in half. He’s too hard, too long, too thick, too big. Yet you can’t help but whine when he stops moving after only half of his cock is nestled in your pussy.
Ghost shoves his face in your neck and you can feel his body trembling, not from physical exertion, but from the force he was using to control himself. Teeth nip and scrape at the tender flesh above your collarbone as he begins to slowly push more of himself into your quivering pussy. In silent submission, you crane your neck further to give him better access to your pulse point.  
You don’t want Ghost to hold back. You want the delicious pain that comes from him tearing you apart because you know he’ll always sew you back together again.
“Fuck me, bite me, take me, please.”
“Copy.” Ghost’s tone is deceptively playful and you swear you feel him smirk against your neck.
Cheeky bastard.
Any semblance of lightheartedness quickly disappears when he slams the rest of his cock inside you. Instead of biting, he sucks the spot his teeth were previously teasing. Ghost’s hands settle on your ass to pull you on and off his cock in tandem with his thrusts. He’s everywhere all at once and all you can do is desperately moan at the contact you’ve starved for.
The pace starts deep and languid before rapidly turning rough and downright feral. Gravelly groans tumble from the usually composed man as your tight walls cling to him at every pull of his cock. You’re almost too tight and he’s almost too big. Almost.
“That’s it... take my cock, angel.” Your bottom lip trembles when Ghost moves to rest his forehead against yours while continuing to fuck into you hard enough to bruise. The soft skin at his pelvis abuses your clit to the point of overstimulation with the onslaught of movement. It’s so intense that you’re sure you’ll fall apart by the next jut of his hips, but he never gives you more than you can handle. Ghost is the only person you’ve trusted with your body in many years; and for that, he’ll be forever grateful.
His eyes never leave yours as he takes in every little emotion swirling in their depths. Before you were on the brink of darkness, now all he sees is lust and a four-letter word that would be his undoing.
Once you almost died and went to hell. Now you feel like you’ve died and gone to heaven. Euphoria made you docile and pliable, a mewling, dizzy, sweet mess that only made Ghost fuck you harder. The sounds he’s making are like brimstone and ash as he fucks his fallen angel.
“Angel” was an especially fond nickname Ghost gave you at the beginning of your relationship. One he saved for your most intimate moments together. To him, you’re a celestial being; too good to be with the likes of him. He sees your drive to do good, to protect people from the torment you’d endured. Outsiders may see a bloodthirsty soldier, but he saw you for who you really are. A woman who strived to do good, to protect people from horrors unimaginable. Even if it meant sacrificing herself. Although Ghost may not be as noble, he is as driven. He’ll be your patron saint, your protector till the end of days; but even then, he’ll be too selfish to let you go. Ghost would cut down Gods and travel through hell and back for you. Anything for his angel.
A particularly sharp thrust makes you cry out. You’re so close you can feel the electricity crackling between the two of you. But neither of you cared for things that came easy. In an instant Ghost pulls out of you and flips you around with the grace of a seasoned fighter. The spray of water hits the sides of your bodies as you’re bent with your front against the shower wall.
Your forearms support your weight as you slam your palms into the wall in a poor attempt for leverage. Each aching muscle in your legs shakes from the pressure of standing on your tiptoes to reach closer to Ghost’s hips. Emptiness gives way to fullness when your pussy is once again invaded by his cock. His front molds into your back like you are made for him. You fit so perfectly tight against him, around him, pushing and squeezing as your velvet walls flutter to accommodate him.
Fingers slip between your own in an act so tender it betrays the rough slap of his hips against you. Truly an enigma even you had yet to completely figure out. But with your fast-approaching climax, you didn’t have the room to dwell on the concept. You can tell Ghost is close too; his thrusts are growing sloppy and his fingers that are intertwined with yours squeeze in a white-knuckled grip to attempt to ground himself.
His hands slip from yours to find purchase on your hip with one hand while the other snakes around to descend on your clit. Even lost in desire his movements are precise and expert in how they derive pleasure from you.
“Do you want me to fill you up, angel? Make you mine?” Ghost’s voice is distorted by growls and full-blown lust. Your emphatic moans and confirmations blend only to heighten as he slams into you and rolls your sensitive bud just right. Ghost’s ministrations, cock, voice, words, and noises all blend together in perfect symphony as you reach your rapture.
His grip on you is like steel as you meet each of Ghost’s thrusts. Your heart thumps like a hummingbird and sparks feel as though they’re lighting under your skin. A loud groan reverberates next to your ear as heat blooms in your core. You’re so tight in the throes of your own orgasm, milking Ghost for everything he’s got.
Ghost continues to push his cum inside you, thrusting in deep, hard strokes to secure it in and make it stick. The insatiable need to make you his in a permanent way motivates the overstimulating pounding. His fingers knead the flesh at your hips, coaxing you to stay open for him.
Only when your whimpers waver and turn whiny does he reluctantly slow his movements before coming to a complete stop. Ghost pulls you from the wall so he can lean you against his chest, cock still buried deep inside you. The rhythmic rise and fall of his chest would lull you to sleep if you weren’t acutely aware of your surroundings again. You don’t know how much time has passed, but when Ghost pulls out of you, you shiver from the newfound emptiness.
When you start to adjust your limbs, you feel that the skin on your fingertips is pruned, indicating that you’ve overstayed your welcome. You turn around in Ghost’s grip so you can properly gaze up at him (even if you still have to crane your neck). Your hands absentmindedly rub the muscles in his chest that rumbles like a dragon. Truly an unwavering force in every sense of the word. Unfortunately for both of you, you couldn’t stay like this forever.
“We have to get out sometime, big guy.” Grunting, Ghost grabs your hand before pulling it to his lips, kissing your knuckles like he was memorizing the feel of them. Satiated blue eyes look at you with an emotion that makes you swallow thickly. He was going to be the death of you.
Wordlessly, Ghost reaches around to finally stop the stream of water before scooping you into his arms. A part of you wanted to protest that you could move on your own, but you wouldn’t ever deprive his need to feel you. You wince as Ghost helps you out of the shower. At first, you think it’s from the ache between your thighs, but the pain stems from somewhere lower.
In an instant, you’re plopped on the bathroom counter. “Didn’t care to tell me about this?” Ghost elevates your right leg with an edge of anger in his voice. Not at you per se, but the fact that you’re injured. A streak of red is trailing down your outer thigh with the other droplets of water to the floor. The gash isn’t concerningly deep, but after your exertions, the area was irritated from being neglected.
“I’ve been so caught up I didn’t even feel the damn thing.” The knife wound must have occurred when you were fighting off those men on the rooftop. Everything happened so fast since you came to the safe house that you didn’t take the time to look over yourself.
When a white-hot bolt of pain hits your gut, you’re reminded of your oversight again. You sure as hell can feel it now though. Sighing, Ghost makes quick work of cleaning and wrapping your wound with items from his bag. Of course, he brought it into the bathroom with him. The man is never unprepared.
“Wish you gave me the chance to kill those bastards, love.” The comment only makes you laugh. Leave it to Ghost to think of vengeance right after fucking your brains out.
You admire his concentration in silence. Before you met him you always “licked your own wounds” after every mission you went on, never having someone care so intimately about you to tend to your injuries themself. Now you had Ghost’s expert hands piecing you back together. Despite your pride, you cherish that those hands, invisibly coated in so many people’s blood, takes extra precaution while cleaning up yours. At this moment you feel nothing but lingering bliss and something you thought you’d never feel again… love.
Lightly twisting your leg, Ghost looks over his handiwork with a satisfied grunt. Thick fingers start to card through your wet strands of hair before moving down to cup your cheeks. His thumbs draw small circles on your skin in a manner so soothing it made butterflies awaken in your stomach.
“Do you think they heard us?” They had to of heard, but you knew that they would make themselves think they didn’t. If one of them even uttered a single syllable about it Ghost would pop their head off like a cherry stem.
“That’s the goal.” A wicked blush flames your cheeks as you playfully swat his chest.
Possessive bastard.
Sighing, you hop off the counter and grab your undergarments. Can’t delay facing the team any longer. The comfortable silence continues to stretch as you both get re-dressed. Thankfully Ghost hands you a spare shirt since you tore yours before getting in the shower. It all feels strangely domestic, especially when putting where you are into consideration. But home is where the heart is, and Ghost has yours in the palm of his hand.
Strong arms pull you to a hard chest once you’re fully dressed. A ghost of a smile plays on your lover’s lips and the sight makes you smile in return. Ghost leaves you with one last searing kiss before pulling his balaclava back down and exiting the bathroom.
Amidst war, death, and a lingering past you were able to fight your demons and find love. And as fate would have it, you love the angel of death himself.
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gaeasun · 6 months
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Cut Lawquane was absolutely a Commando
Ok, crazy theory time.
I think Cut Lawquane was a Commando, or least a Commander. But going with Commando for now. But I don't think he was a rank and file clone trooper.
All of the clone troopers i think should be shown as exceptionally trained, but Cut Lawquane showed incredible skill, even though we saw him compared to Rex the entire episode. Evidences are below:
A) Rex is both a Captain and one of the oldest of the CT's, but the entire time Cut acts as his equal and perhaps even elder. He doesn't talk quite down to Rex, but it reminds me of how people act when they're just a grade apart. Not like they know everything and the other knows nothing, but there is a definite difference between them. Also he instinctively recognizes Rex as a Captain, but is not phased by that at all.
B) He disables Rex, the Captain Rex, with a farming tool in zero seconds flat, and does it without hurting him.
C) He recognizes Commando droids, which are typically only used in special assignments. And he also knows that it takes a headshot to pierce their armor. On Rishi it was Captain Rex who recognized them and said they were brand new. So for Cut to already know exactly what they are, especially when he's been out of the war for months, at least implies he could have been on high stakes missions before right in the beginning of the war. Which is also why I'm leaning Commando instead of Commander, because it's more Commandos who go on missions while Commanders are still often with general forces.
D) He has a highly developed sense of individuality and creative thinking, which was encouraged more in the special forces than general troopers.
E) Cut also says, specifically, "everyone I cared about, my team, was gone." Commandos are specifically trained to work in groups of four as a cohesive team. additionally, with these commando units being so tightly knit, the feelings of complete loss could have played a large role in Cut's desertion.
F) Cut and Rex play a game of dejarik, and while the winner is not shown, by the end they're both down to the last piece, which shows that Cut is around Rex's level when it comes to strategy. And Rex is so good at strategy that Marshall Commander Cody, who the commanding officer of around 36,000 men, considered Rex to be one of the best they had in that regard. Not to mention that Cut is impressed with Rex too.
G) Cut has 3 blaster type weapons that are probably the weapons he had on him when he deserted: an older rifle, a blaster carbine, and a DC-17. Now, it makes sense for a farmer to own a rifle, and the blaster carbine is a general GAR blaster. but the DC-17 is the same blaster pistol that Rex uses, that we have only seen used by ARC Troopers, Captains, and Commanders.
H) This is probably the most obvious one of all, but Cut is an incredibly good fighter. Even our beloved ARC troopers Fives and Echo struggle to take on a few. Cut takes on 20 and lives (granted the droids are not top form but its still impressive). He makes three headshots in a row with his rifle in less than three seconds, and the next three kill shots are all headshots as well. he also throws a wooden rafter-beam off him (that might be dad-strength tho) and hits a metal droid with a wooden chair hard enough to break both of them. he also punched one of them in the face hard enough the droids eyes flashed red (and then slightly regretted it, but it didn't look like he broke his hand either).
I) Cut hadn't been fighting for at least several months, since he deserted almost right after Geonosis. so as incredible as his skills are, he had probably been even better before, so just think about that for a moment.
Edit: i forgot to put this in because it wasnt in The Deserter, but by bad batch he already has gray streaks and a receding hairline. guys an old teenager for sure
So, Cut is a highly trained and skilled fighter in both hand to hand combat and blaster combat, he's at least as old as Rex and is not intimidated by his rank at all, he was in a specific team and felt like everything had no meaning after they all died, he has the weapons of an officer, had seen enough of commando droids to recognize them and their weaknesses, is Rex's match in strategy and combat while being more independent.
All of this points to Cut being anything but a regular CT, and as far as I'm concerned he was absolutely a Commando.
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gglitch1dd · 5 months
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Never meant to be (Werewolf Eijiro x Werewolf Reader)
Day 7 of Breedingtober
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Even though you love each other, sometimes responsibility triumphs over love
Warning: Forbidden love, werewolves (they can turn into giant wolves but when they are in their human forms they have the fluffy ears and tails), ANGSTY SMUT, ANGST, NO HAPPY ENDINGS, NO COMFORT, pregnancy, babies, background rivalry, prejudice, arranged marriage, background kiri x mina,
Words: 6,1k
Eijiro waited silently as he watched the pack sleep easily in the late moonlight that radiated from the moon high above. His father, the Alpha of the pack, had ears like… well, a wolf, but luckily the best thing about Takeo and most Kirishimas was that they slept like dead logs. Which was a good thing in this case.
Eijiro stuck his head up from his place. His family were all asleep, jumbled up together in a mess of fur and skin as his father had chosen to sleep in his wolf form, forming a circle around his wife and their pups who slept in warm knitted blankets and furs in his mother’s nest, safe. The youngest pups slept with their heads on Yua’s chest and body while the older the pups got, they were scattered around the warm central space.
As the oldest, his parents didn’t mind that he didn’t sleep in the nest anymore. It was about time he would be mated and start his own family unit which meant having his own den, but in the mean time he slept close by if not in the nest. This was as good a time as any to sneak out. Whenever he did sneak out he was always in his true form, it was faster, but safer too if anything happened.
Carefully, he stood up on all four paws. He slowly moved towards the exit out of the den. He heard a sharp inhale making his head snap to look at the nest. He didn’t move. Then he heard a huff and almost like a snore from his father. He eased before softly, scampering out into the forest. The moon was high and bright as it shone on the Pack A. The rest of the pack was asleep and if not, were on guard to keep the pack lands safe. Eijiro had to be smart as he was quick.
He carefully stayed low, keeping to the shadows. His fur was as dark as the shadows themselves, which made it easier to move in the dark. He was aware how all the guards moved on their duties so it wasn’t a trouble bypassing them. All he had to do was reach the river. That’s all that he focused on.
“And where the fuck are you going, Eijiro?” The voice made him pause. He turned his head to look at his best friend, Katsuki. He had a scowl on his face as his arms were crossed over his chest. His large ears flicked ontop of his head as his tail didn’t wag, showing that he wasn’t amused.
Eijiro paused, half thinking of bolting and not answering him at all. Eijiro lowered his head with a sigh. Fur became flesh and oversized canine became man. Until finally the large werewolf stood across from the blond. Both men were stark naked and yet didn’t seem to mind as they stared at each other. Eijiro immediately didn’t respond which roused Katsuki’s suspicions.
“You’re going to see them, aren’t you?” He asked. Eijiro didn’t answer again either but it made him look guilty enough that Katsuki knew the answer. Katsuki let out a low growl in frustration as he dragged a hand through his hair.  “What part of they are the enemy, don’t you understand!” He motioned to the side. Although his voice was low, it still felt as though he was shouting at Eijiro. “They are of our enemy pack, one of the pups to the Alpha and here you are gallivanting in the middle of the night with them.”
“Katsuki, you don’t understand.” Eijiro urged as he took a step closer to his best friend. Katsuki let out a low growl, throwing his hands up in disbelief. Eijiro hesitated but furrowed his eyebrows. “They are my fated, my wolf chose them and them me.”
Katsuki scowled. “I don’t care if the moon gave you them as your mate, you are putting this whole pack at risk with your stupidity.” He hissed. “And if their father goes looking and finds you knot deep inside them and kills you for it, then what? Who’s supposed to explain to your parents how their eldest son died at the hands of the enemy and I never said anything!” He motioned to his chest as he glared over at Eijiro.
Eijiro swallowed down hard and looked away from Katsuki. Eijiro wasn’t stupid, he knew that death was a risk and something that happened in other packs and in their own. They killed anyone from the enemies pack without a second hesitation. However… it pained him to be away from you.
Katsuki could tell that talking to Eijiro was futile and stupid and that there was no convincing him. He let out a growl and turned his head. Skin became blond fur and man became canine, as the large blond wolf moved to walk back to where he was on duty.
“Katsuki, please.” Eijiro urged, the wolf hesitated. “Don’t. Tonight… tonight is the last night. I promise.”
Katsuki glanced back at his best friend. He didn’t say anything, his right ear flicking before walking back, without giving Eijiro a second glance. Eijiro knew his friend, and he knew that this was a final warning, to either break things off with you once and for all or the entire pack would know. He let out a breath as he turned around to head to the river.
The river separated the two packs, but it was also at this river where the two of you met. If one walked further down the river bank, one would eventually reach a cliff side where the waterfall fell down too to form the river that separated the packs, and behind that river was a cave. A cave that the two of you met up every third night or so. Eijiro was careful as he slipped behind the waterfall to the carved in space behind it to where you were.
You stood with your back to him before smelling his scent even behind the smell of water and damp earth. You turned around to look at him. Your smile brightened up his entire being, your tail swishing behind you in excitement just at the mere sight of him. You were precious and amazing, and all his. Which pained his heart even more. “Eijiro!” You quickly moved into his waiting arms, his warm embrace enclosing around you as he buried his face in your neck. You took a deep inhale of his scent as you loved the feeling and smell of him. You moved to look up at him with a smile, “I’ve missed you.” You reached up and put your forehead against his nuzzling him in affection.
He put on his own sad smile, closing his eyes as he returned your affections. “I’ve missed you too.” He spoke softer than normal. You couldn’t resist but meet up to reach his warm lips. His grip turned possessive making you giggle as you held onto him achingly. You always wished for him to be much closer by, but you both aren’t able to do that.
You separated to look back up at him, but your smile slowly fell at the guilty look on his face. You furrowed your eyebrows as you moved a hand to the side of his face. “What’s wrong?” You asked confused and soft.  “What is the matter?”
Eijiro closed his eyes. “We… we can’t do this anymore.” He spoke lowly, almost in pain to utter such words to you. Your face fell at the words he was saying. He let out a sigh as he opened his eyes to look back at you. “I think our time together like this is over, Y/N.”
You shook your head as you slowly slipped out of his hold, a look of pure disbelief as you looked up at him. “No, Eijiro. What do you mean this is over? You are my everything.”
“And you are mine.”
“No!” You interrupted him with an adamant growl. “If I was, you wouldn’t be doing this to me.” Eijiro let out a heavy sigh as his ears moved down flat against his head. “What changed? What happened?” You asked, urging him to tell you the truth.
He swallowed down hard as he put a hand to his eyes. “Katsuki knows about us. That and my father has arranged for me and another she-wolf to be mated.” It was no surprise, as the next Alpha it would be expected for Eijiro to be mated, and considering he had not chosen any of the wolves in his pack yet, his parents would automatically make that decision for him.
“Who?”
The sound of your vicious growl brought a smile to his face, you were always the feisty type when it came to him. So damn possessive. But then again, he couldn’t lie and say he wasn’t the same. “Ashido Mina. I grew up with her and we’re good enough friends. She’s… she’s perfect for the pack like that.”
It hurt to hear him say that but you knew he wasn’t wrong. If it was what the pack needed, he had to choose that. But it didn’t make you feel any less of an imperfect option for him. “Then why entertain me?” You spoke quietly as you turned to look away from him, your arms wrapping around your bare form as you turned away from him. “Why entertain the thought of choosing me as your Alpha female?”
Eijiro hesitated. He did do that. One of the many distant painful daydreams the both of you would have if life was different… simpler. If you weren’t from two rivalling packs that would tear each other to shreds at any moment. “You know how my parents are. After the death of my older sisters…” Eijiro swallowed down hard. You turned back to look at him. “You know how protective they are of me and how vicious they are to wolves like you.”
You paused. “Wolves like me?” You whispered with furrowed eyebrows. Eijiro squeezed his eyes shut. He messed up with that one. You put a hand to your chest. “You mean wolves from my pack? Wolves like me?” You asked.
“Y/N… please, you know I didn’t mean it like that.” He pleaded as he took a step forward.
“What so you parents wouldn’t even accept me as your bonded fated mate because I’m from another pack?” You asked.
Eijiro let out a breath in frustration, his eyebrows furrowed. “Y/N, your father murdered my older sisters Akari and Ayah in cold blood while they were still pups, you can’t expect people to forget that!”
You let out a growl as you took a step forward. “I am not my father.”
“I know that!” He shouted back at you. “Don’t you understand that this is bigger than us! I can’t just run away with you or take you as my mate without countless lives being lost due to our selfish actions!”
“Then what are we supposed to do!”
“I don’t know!”
You paused as you looked up at him with a frown, however that’s when he noticed the tears in your eyes as you looked up at him. You sniffed as you looked down at the ground. The both of you didn’t say anything, the deafening sound of the waterfall had drowned out your shouts and yet it still felt almost too loud between the both of you.
You closed your eyes before looking up at him again, a tear falling down your face. “You do know.” You whispered. Eijiro eased at your words. You moved to wipe your cheek as you sniffed. You moved over to him slowly, his face broken as he watched you near him. You reached up and placed a kiss to his cheek. You turned to leave, not wanting to make this harder than it was already.
But it was too late for Eijiro. He grabbed your arm and pulled you into his embrace. He kissed you deeply, keeping his arms around you almost as if he was afraid to let you go. You couldn’t help but kiss him back. All you wanted was to be in his arms like this. To feel his hot skin against yours and for nothing else to matter. Eijiro put his forehead against yours. He looked at you and you looked at him.
You both didn’t have to say anything to agree on it.  
If this was to be your last night together, it would not only be one of separation.
You closed your eyes as you joined hands with him. You nodded your head and that was all he needed. He carefully lifted you up, into his arms before carefully lowering you down to the ground in his arms. His hands were carefully, taking their time to trace you and to feel you. If this was going to be the last time he would touch your body, he wanted to memorise everything about it and so did you as he carefully dragged his hands up your body up to your sex, finding solace and home within your slicked heat.
You let out a soft whimper at his thick fingers inside you but you moved your hands over his body. You felt the hard earned muscles that he had earned over the years, you traced every scar and you knew every story of them all. He had told you them all and you always felt like you were right there when they happened. You gripped him tighter at his fingers that were methodical in the way they moved inside of you, trying to give you pleasure and yet also feel every inch of you almost as though he was trying to commit your body to memory.
Eijiro kissed you again, wanting everything to disappear. You weren’t some wolf from the enemy side and he wasn’t the heir to his pack. You were just two wolves that were in love and allowed to be in love and rejoiced for it. It hurt being in love with you knowing that other people were praised for finding partnership with others and he would be shunned for it.
You gasped as you arched your back in his grasp, the hand to your back feeling you bend at the pleasure he was giving you. He always loved the way you would react to his touch. The way you would wiggle and writhe, slick dripping past his fingers as he stretched you out to fit his cock perfectly. You were always perfect for him in his eyes. You weren’t meant for him like he was meant for you.
Even now as he slowly slid his cock inside you, you now on your hands and knees, presented before him perfectly. Your sharp nails scratched at the ground as Eijiro held onto your hips. He moved down to put his chest to your back, pulling you against him as he buried his face to the back of your neck, tears in his eyes as he fought back a sob. It was painful to think of not seeing you again, or not holding you like this, kissing you, embracing you, talking to you, living with you. Living without you almost felt gut wrenching and sickening and yet here he was.
Your eyes were squeezed shut as you felt his own tears hit your neck, your tears falling down your face. You let out a heavy breath as you turned your head to put your forehead against his. He was slow. You wanted him to be slow. You wanted to savour and remember every inch of him inside you, every thrust. It was actually hard to forget him either way. Eijiro was a beautiful mate. He was large, perfectly sculpted as a protector, he could fill you up effortlessly with is cock and hands to hold you while he did it. And he never was short of not filling you up until you were brimming from all the cum inside you.
Your moans and cries were mixed into one lewd painful symphony of emotions. You would never get to claim Eijiro as your own. You would never get to dance with him under the moon and stars after your mating ceremony with your pack or his to watch and celebrate in your union with the both of you. You would never get to watch him rise and become Alpha of his pack. You’d never get to bare his pups and teach them to hunt or learn stories of their people. You’d never get to hold Eijiro and the family you could have had in your own warm den as a family.
Because life wasn’t fair to people like you and Eijiro. Life was never fair. And you would ever to face that everyday with another mate that would never love you, see you, hold you, fuck you, breed you, exist with you like Eijiro did.
You’d never get to be satisfied again.
Eijiro let out low growls as he held you tightly, his thrusts more powerful as you both neared your ends. You were both so desperate for it, his grip on you vicious and your calls for him needy, and yet you both truly didn’t want it to end. You grasped each other because it was your last, cursing the moon for separating the both of you even though it brought you together.
With your breaths quickened, each thrust making you shiver and ache and Eijiros groans and thrusts harder you both reached that inexplicable high together. Your sexes joined to make you into one being continuous and held together by his knot. You closet your eyes tears slipping out as you indulged in the beautiful feeling that was the both of you. It was warm and perfect and real and final.
Even as you held each other, not baring to separate. Eijiro slipped into sleep, with your last goodbye echoing in his head.
“Goodbye, Eijiro.”
By the time Eijiro woke up, you were gone. The sun was barely just rising and Eijiro never felt more alone.
With a quick dip in the river, he walked back onto his packlands in his true form, a fraction if the man he once was for the rest of the pieces had left with you. His large paws hit the ground heavily almost as if he could barely keep himself up any longer.
Katsuki sat there on guard just where Eijiro had found him the night before. The blond didn’t say anything but he watched. He could sense it, he could even smell it. Eijiro looked exhausted. He looked drained. He looked like a shell of the wolf he once was. The large dark haired wolf walked past Katsuki with a low head and a pain filled expression. The blond wolf was silent but he let his friend go, knowing that he needed time to process and breathe.
Eijiro was like this till he sulked into his family den. His mother perked up at the sight of him. She hadn’t heard him leave but as he walked back to the place he normally slept in, he looked worrisome.  Her son looked broken. He flopped down onto the ground and closed his eyes, his tail wrapping around him as he kept his back to his family.
15 months later
“Eijiro.” Katsuki stuck his head into the room in one of the many system of caves that made the packs homes. Eijiro stopped talking as he looked to Katsuki and so did the other high ranking wolves in the pack. The blond looked concerned, the frown on his face worrisome. “Your presence is requested.”
“By who?” He asked.
Katsuki hesitated, wondering how best it was to put this. “A… member of our opposing pack.”
Takeo let out a loud growl at the thought of it. He furrowed his eyebrows as he looked to the blond. “and why aren’t they dead already for stepping onto our lands?”
Katsuki swallowed down hard and looked to Eijiro. Something in Eijiro grew uneasy at the look his best friend had on his face. “It’s best if you come and see why for yourself.” He settled on. Not waiting for anything else to say, Katsuki left.
Takeo looked to Eijiro for answers but Eijiro had none. He wasn’t sure what was going on nor what he had to do with any of this. He just hoped it wasn’t you. Although he ached to see you again, it just wasn’t possible. Not with Mina now in the picture and how far he had come to making sure that he could call himself a worthy heir. He couldn’t lose focus. And yet the only reason his feet were moving so fast, following Katsuki’s scent, was because of that hope. Out in the sunlight, he followed his friend who trudged barefoot towards one of the packs borders.
Not by the river.
It made Eijiro feel disappointed.
Eijiro moved to walk side by side with Katsuki. He glanced back at his rather concerned father and then back to Katsuki. He opened his mouth to ask but Katsuki beat him to it. “You fucked up, Ei.”
He put simply with a sigh. “You really fucked up.”
Before Eijiro could ask what that meant, a crowd came in view. The crowd was near the border but was far enough in to keep everyone comfortable. Katsuki let out a low growl, making people move out away to make space for the new group that was there to see what the matter was.
The moment Eijiro saw who was the reason of this whole summons, he froze. You stood holding two pups in your arms. You in all your glory.
You.
A low threatening growl erupted from your chest at the wolves that surrounded you. However, there was one above everyone else who stood near you and that was Yua, surprisingly. Your eyes met Eijiro’s and you stopped being defensive of the pups you held in your arms. Your face relaxed at the sight of him. You looked older, more mature almost and yet the same.
A loud growl silence everyone, every jab and growl that was pointed your way. Takeo moved to stand in the circle. He glared at you. “State your business here.” Short, cordial and to the point. You  preferred that.
You cleared your throat. “I don’t represent my former pack. I’ve been packless for the last twelve months. All I wish is to deliver what belongs to your son.” You looked to Yua who took one of the pups from you. The older she-wolf looked down at the little pup before her ears shot up in surprise, peaking her husband’s interest. “I only figured that...” You looked at the last twin in your arm before looking back at Eijiro. “enough Kirishima pups have died because of my family. These ones deserve a chance. If you could find it in your hearts to take in your kin, please do and I'll leave at once.”
Yua looked to her mate, motioning to the little pup in her arms. “Takeo.” She let out softly.
Looking to the large Alpha was one of the pups, a girl, with black hair and dark fur to match of her ears and tails. The chubby little thing looked up at Takeo with wide ruby eyes. Eijiro’s eyes widened before looking at the other twin. A boy. His ears down as he looked rather timid, hiding into your shoulder, a lot like how Eijiro was as a pup.
Two pups.
Twins.
Undeniably his.
Everyone turned to look at Eijiro. Eijiro swallowed down hard. “Fuck.”
“Yah…” Katsuki said with a heavy sigh as he scratched the back of his head. “That’s what I said.”
Takeo was speechless for the most part and it was best that everyone talked in a more disclosed setting so you all went to the cave that Eijiro was in with his father before Katsuki called him. You got some looks as an outsider but more out of interest than out of prejudice. Eijiro watched you silently as kept yourself away from him in an essence. You held your pups possessively in your arms almost as if someone would come and grab them away from you. As if you weren’t here to leave them with him.
Once inside you kept far away, leaving the pups on the stone table where they looked around in wonder at all the new faces. You stepped back keeping to yourself as everyone seemed to just stare at either you or the pups.
Takeo put a hand to his brows, trying to digest what was happening. He had his eyes closed as he took a moment. “Eijiro,” His only son looked to him knowing that he had messed up. Takeo opened his ruby eyes as he looked over to him. “Who is this wolf?” He motioned over to you.
Eijiro paused as he looked to you. At first you didn't meet his gaze until you looked up at him. Suddenly it felt as if the world stopped once again. As if you were the only wolf ever meant for him and his heart only ached more to reach over towards you. You were so beautiful even now. Eijiro swallowed down hard, agony and pain evident in his eyes. “My… my fated.” He just barely whispered.
Yua gasped as she looked to her son, her face in worry and her golden eyes conveyed that. “You had a fated EIjiro? Something so rare and you didn't tell us?” She asked putting her hands to her chest.
Eijiro let out a sigh as he looked away from her. “I'm sorry I wasn't so eager to tell you that I was in love with someone from the enemy pack.” He let out lowly.
Takeo let out a warning growl as he put his hands on the table. Eijiro bowed his head lower towards his mother in apology for his tone. “Eijiro, this is serious. You were out with this female and you didn’t think it was of any importance.”
“I didn't think this would happen!” Eijiro expressed as he motioned over to the blissfully unaware pups.
Your attention moved over to your pups, blocking out father and son as they argued. Your daughter had her foot in her mouth, chewing on her soft feet as she gripped it with both hands. Your son however looked rather scared, his ruby eyes filled with slight distress. He looked to you. Although he couldn't speak, you could tell he was deeply upset. His ears were flat against his head not liking the shouting. You noticed tears start to fill his eyes at all the shouting.
You shushed him sweetly as you stepped closer to him. You accepted him into your arms, allowing the little pup to bury his head in the crook of your neck.
“And what about Mina?” Takeo asked with a worried look. “She's already expecting a litter and now we have this problem on our hands. This won't reflect well on her! Wha-"
“Takeo!” Yua hissed over at him with a pointed glare before motioning to you.
You held your son in your arms trying to calm him down from all the shouting and arguing. You shushed him sweetly rubbing his back. “Its okay… its okay.” You spoke softly to him as you carried him. You then noticed your daughter look worriedly up at you. She reached her hands up towards you. Adjusting your son to be in one of your arms you reached down and picked her up as well, holding her in your arms.
Eijiro couldn't help but ease at the sight of you with his pups. You looked like such a natural with them, holding them in your arms like they were your world.
Katsuki, as Eijiro's second, was present in the meeting. He looked at Eijiro, crimson eyes on him before flicking to you. He furrowed his eyebrows for a minute, arms crossed over a loose tunic. “They seem pretty young.” He spoke out, taking everyone's attention. “Not more than a year.”
You shook your head at the blond talking. You didn't know who he was but you knew he was important enough to be in the room so you didn't question it. “No… just under half a year.” You expressed as you gently rocked the twins in your arms allowing them to calm down.
Katsuki frowned slightly. “And you've been without your pack for a year?”
You let out a soft scoff as you carefully adjusted your daughter in your arms as she reached up to pet your face. “Not everyone welcomes pups from an unknown father.” You let out bitterly. You looked down at your daughter. “They wouldn't have let them live if I had stayed.”
“Half a year ago…” Katsuki let out softly. “That's… that's during winter-”
“You gave birth during the winter?” Eijiro let out concerned. “All on your own?”
“Well its not like a I had a choice.” You defended with a low hiss. “It's not like I could have come here.” You looked to Takeo specifically with a scowl, knowing his stance on you. “And it's not like I would be welcomed anywhere else with pups with me.” You moved forward, putting the pups down once more, allowing them to whine as you put them to sit down. “Which is why I came to leave them with you.”
You took a step back and kept your hands to yourself. Eijiro had never seen you look so emotionless, almost as if you were trying to detach yourself from the pups entirely. Your face was fallen and sullen. You swallowed down hard before looking up at all of them, tears lining your eyes but nothing else showing your mood on your face.
“I've done all I've can. I've weaned them off milk so they don't need me anymore. They can't survive with me out there, they would die. They don't need their mother anymore. They would have a better chance here with all of you, illegitimate but alive. And that's all a mother like me wants for her children. I don't want to join your pack, I don't need the scrutiny or humiliation that will be thrown at me and my children if I do.” You expressed as you bowed before them. “All I ask, is that you care for them, Eijiro.” That's when he noticed you were shaking. You were holding back sobs and cries as your voice came out weakly. “Please.”
Eijiro scowled as he held back his own emotions on the matter. You deserved to be with your pups, you deserved to be here with him where you could both watch over them together. You tried your best to keep them alive, you tried your best which is why you were here. You had no other choice. You couldn't do anything different. Eijiro half thought all this his fault, which it was. He opened his mouth to speak.
“Eijiro.” Entering the room was a pink haired she-wolf. She was beautiful, a toned beautiful body of perfect brown skin and hazel eyes. She wore shorts and a simple half tunic, exposing the soft expectant belly of growing pups. Her bump was still small, not larger than four months. She looked over to Eijiro and moved over to him. “I came as soon as I-" She paused at the sight of the twins. Two pups who looked undeniably like Kirishimas and couldn't have been from any of Eijiro's sisters or mother (the whole pack would have known).  She looked to Eijiro who was quiet. He gave her a look and Mina understood that this was something that would be explained to her eventually but something that wasn't recent, despite a slight look of guilt on his face.
So that was Mina…
She was beautiful, you couldn't deny that. Probably perfect for Eijiro in every way shape and form. She wasn't you afterall.
Eijiro looked to you. “Are you sure this is what you want?” He asked you. “I'm sure you can-"
“It's okay.” You assured him with a sad smile. “This isn't what I want but it's what's necessary. I can't be selfish.”
Yua had a sad look as she looked up to her husband. Takeo was silent as he allowed Eijiro to handle this until there was a need to interfere. Yua was worried. She felt as though this wasn't right and yet… she understood your reasoning and could see no other option. You were right, you couldn't just stay. Yua put on a sad smile as she looked at you, almost from one mother to another. “What are their names?”
You looked down, shame coming up your throat. “I… I didn't name them. It's… it’s easier that way. I thought their father should do that.” You explained. “They respond to anything, they're smart pups.” You looked to Katsuki with a hard swallow. “You walked me in. May… may you escort me out, please?”
Katsuki looked to Takeo who was silent for a moment, but motioned that Katsuki could. Katsuki moved meaning that you could follow him.
You hesitated as you looked back at the twins. Your little girl smiled up at you and your sweet little boy looked at you and then at the blond. You tried to fight back tears as you looked at them. You would probably never see them again. Maybe one day they would hate you for leaving them and not fighting to stay, maybe they wouldn't even want to see you again should your stars align to meet with the two of them.
But you did know that it wouldn't stop you from loving them, and praying for them everyday. You scowled as you felt a sob in the back of your throat. You forced a smile on your face as you gave each of them a small kiss on their foreheads before moving over to Katsuki, wiping away tears you wouldn't allow to fall. The blond male pitied you. He really did. And part of him wished that this wouldn’t be so painful for you.
Before you could leave, Yua stepped forward towards you, grabbing your hand. She held your hand caringly. “I promise to take care of them.” You smiled at her promise, the look in her eye telling you that she was serious. You nodded and left after Katsuki.
Eijiro felt a tug in his heart as he watched you leave. He felt sick. He felt as though he was going to retch at the very idea that once again when you had just come back, you were leaving again and he would never see you again. Mina looked between her husband and back in the direction you went. With a deep breath she took his hand and dragged him after Katsuki, making his eyes widened in surprise.
It was an otherwise silent walk to the pack border. Uneventful as you willed yourself not to cry in grief. Finally Katsuki stopped, the land before him mostly bare and unclaimed and off away from their pack. He looked down to you. “Here we are.”
You bowed your head in gratitude. “Thank you.” You spoke softly.
“Y/N.” Eijiro spoke as he took a short jog towards you. Mina followed behind him, staying just a bit behind him but not too far away. His ruby eyes looked down at you and damn did you miss them. You gave him a weak smile. He was speechless for a moment before swallowing down hard. “Where… where are you going to go?”
You shrugged. “Maybe the north. I've heard of a few good packs there.” You turned to look at Mina. You looked down to her stomach and instinctively she rested her hands to her bump. “How far long are you?”
She gave you a friendly smile. “Three months.”
You hummed with a nod. You looked up at Eijiro. “Take care of her, take care of them.” You meant it genuinely even if it came out quieter than you wanted it to be.
He wanted to reach over and hug you. Sweep you into his arms and never let go, but he was afraid he would never let go of you again. He nodded his head with a broken smile.
With that you turned around away from him. With the cracking of bones where skin became fur, you stood as your wolf. You glanced back at Eijiro for just a second before running away. You didn't look back after that and all Eijiro could do was watch as you slipped out of his fingers again.
339 notes · View notes
hunterbunter3000 · 11 months
Note
I'm thinking of sweetheart being the mother of task force 141 when laswell isn't there like in the middle of the night when sweetheart is sleeping and just wakes up when she hears the door creaking and looks at the door and sees one of the boys looking like they were crying and they ask if they could cuddle with then because they had a nightmare and sweetheart just coos at them pats the empty spot so they can lay on and sweetheart spoons them making on of the boys feel safe and falls asleep immediately while sweetheart is slowly scratching their head
And then sweetheart falls asleep and when she wakes up of the cod boys are in her room, asleep and she just laughs and gets out of bed and go make some breakfast and coffee or tea for them
Like AHHODHDHEBR like if ghost was the one he would have slight tears in his eyes or konig I know damn well he would be holding a tiger teddy-
Fucking sobbing on the floor for this shit
I AM TOOOOO WTF THIS IS SO ADORABLE 😭😭😭 König holding a tiger teddy that he's had ever since he was a kid is making me ferallLLLLLLAAHHHH
LIKE MY MATERNAL INSTINCTS ARE JUST KICKING INNNNN
And I'm sorry- all I saw was König and tiger stuffy and now this whole thing is just about him AHAHANA
Brown Palace and Grey Oceans
--
(Help this got so long-- it always starts off funny and then i try to be an actual writer smh YOU'LL SEE WHAT I MEAN)
(I honestly don't know what König looks like... even the wiki lore isn't saying anything so I kinda just made him up myself 😅 like how everyone does LOL)
Süße Torte = Sweet Pie
Cw.: FLUFF FLUFF FLUFFY FLUFF
Word count: long. (IDK HOW TO DO A WORD COUNT)
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Yk damn WELL König would open her door as quietly as possible and tip toe to her. He would second guess waking her up cause she looks so damn peaceful sleeping. Her eyelashes laying gently on her soft cheeks, the moonlight shining on her brown skin, making her look ethereal. But he needs comfort right now. The nightmare he had, he can't deal with that by himself.
So he would gently shake Sweetheart's shoulder. And she would SO wake up like a parent would: gasping for air, wide eyed and jerking back. He would step back and apologize. He thinks this was a bad idea but Sweetheart stops him.
Sweetheart, wiping her eyes and sleep in her voice: What's wrong hun?
König, holding his tiger to his side: Uhm... I had a bad... very bad dream.
He breathes in deep, tears welling in his eyes.
König, voice shaking: Can I please sleep with you...?
Sweetheart could hear her heart break. Seeing such a unit of a man be dwindled down to this... (I WANNA HUG HIM)
Her eyebrows knit together, sad that he feels this way. She scoots over and pats her bed. König sniffs, hand rubbing his nose under his home hood. (The brown embroidered hood Sweetheart made him for the base)
He squeezes in there, both of them getting situated in her already small bed. Sweetheart has most of the blanket, but König doesn't care. As long as he's with someone. (Sweetheart specifically)
He turns to her body, face now in her bosom. His eyes go wide, and he looks up at her. She smiles warmly at him. Her eyes go to the little tiger teddy he's holding in his hands. She coos at him.
Sweetheart: How long have you had that?
König feels embarrassed. He kinda forgot he even brought it with him, as it's his comfort companion. (His grandma found it in the attic and sent it to him)
He curses as he hides it behind his back, but Sweetheart grabs his arm. She holds the stuffed tiger, a cute tiny smile and round ears with stripes loosely sewn on the fading base. A big black button for the eye, but the other one is missing, it's just an opening. It's missing a tail, and some tears are on the body. A very old stuffed animal, but Sweetheart can tell it's loved.
Sweetheart: it's so cute... what's the name?
She's not judging him. A grown man, standing at a whopping 6'10, owns an old tiger stuffed animal that he has had ever since he was a child. And she's not judging him. Not laughing in his face and kicking him out. She's asking what his name is, with curiosity in her eyes. How is she real?
König, whispering: ....Hobbes.
Sweetheart: Pardon?
König, speaking a bit louder: His name is-- is Hobbes.
Sweetheart, gasps: Like from Calvin and Hobbes?
König, perks up: You know of those comics?
Sweetheart, giggling: Hell yeah! I used to read them constantly when I was younger. I still have them actually at my home! You could read some if you want when I go back.
König, getting excited and feeling better: I would love that, Süße Torte. Thank you.
Sweetheart, smiling and giving Hobbes back to him: No problem. Are you feeling tired?
He nods his head, about to take off his hood but stops himself. He looks at Sweetheart, eyes asking 'Should I take this off? Will you be uncomfortable?' She looks back him. 'The real question is, will You be uncomfortable if you take it off?'
König thinks on this. He looks back at her brown eyes. Her soft, dark eyes. Eyes that suck him every time he looks at them, entering the smoky quartz palace he would stay in forever. Eyes that always make him feel safe, wrapping him in the darkest color of silk. Eyes that hold many stories and love. Sensual, trustworthy eyes. He can trust her.
König: I trust you.
He takes it off and places it on the floor, face bare and open to the world. He could have sworn Sweetheart's eyes sparkled with actual stars when they got wide. His messy, auburn brown hair is swept back. Thick, soft angeled eyebrows nervously twitch under the hard stare from the woman.
And his eyes, oh, his round, gentle eyes. The ones that light up and shine when she looks at them. The grayish green tint reminded her of clear ocean water, wanting to swim in them forever. Eyes that hold many stories and many secrets. Beautiful eyes. He's beautiful to her.
With his crooked and scarred nose, he has broken many times over the years. Pink downturned lips, curtained over with a thin brown beard on a sharp jaw.
König gulps, eyes still focused on hers. They're staring into each other's color, too far gone to come back to reality. Sweetheart breaks it after what it felt like hours. She starts to laugh quietly, making König confused and a bit self-conscious. She looks back up at him.
Sweetheart, scoffing in disbelief: Who would've thought you were so pretty under those hoods...
He can't breathe.
Sweetheart, still shocked: I mean I never would've guessed. You're... wow.
She places her hand on his sharp cheek. Skin on skin. Warmth. He can feel it. Finally.
Sweetheart: You're really beautiful, Y'know that König?
He can't-- this- it's too much. Overwhelming. Her warm hand, the soft awe look in her eye, her scent, her words, her eyes-- it's too much.
He dips into her neck, hiding his face as his hands wrap around her.
König, beet red: Can we please just- go to sleep? My heart... my heart can't take much more of this.
Sweetheart giggles, wrapping her hands on his head.
Sweetheart: of course.
Her long nails scratch the nape of his neck, almost making König purr. He relaxes into her, molding his body against hers, as they finally give themselves to the night.
König woke up on an empty bed. The sunlight poked at his eyes, telling him to start his day. His hand feels the cozy sheets, where Sweetheart's supposed to be. Sweetheart. Where is she?
He rolls over but falls on the floor with a huge thud and a yelp, and her items shudder from his clumsiness. He grabs his hood as he gets up, stretching his sleepy body. How long was he asleep? It felt like a coma. But nonetheless, he feels extremely well rested, with Sweetheart in his arms and Hobbes-- wait a minute...
Where's Hobbes?
His heart rate picks up as he speeds walk out of her room. Are the others awake? Is she showing them? Making fun of him? No, no please no.
He gets out of his head when he Sweetheart in the living area alone, repairing Hobbes. She hums as she works with a smile, bonnet still on her head, wearing a big sweater and leggings with her legs crossed. She ticks up and sees König.
Sweetheart, waving at him: Good morning, baby! How'd ya sleep?
Baby?
Baby. She called him baby.
König stumbles back a bit. He shakes his head and clears his throat, an overwhelming feeling replacing the over-thinking.
König: yeah. I mean- fine! Good. Wonderful. I slept wonderfully. It was... I needed that. Thank you.
Sweetheart, chuckling: Of course! By the way, there's coffee and some eggs I made you in the kitchen. If you want it.
König, feeling his heart melt: Oh, thank you Süße Torte. I appreciate it.
She nods her head, continuing back to repairing Hobbes with her needle and thread. König relishes this feeling. The feeling of them being the only ones awake, the feeling of having breakfast made, the feeling of enjoying one's presence. It felt right. It felt domesticated. It felt...
Like they were together. In a relationship. Boyfriend and girlfriend. Husband and wife.
He shakes his head, almost spilling the sugar he was pouring for his coffee. He looks back at Sweetheart, still in her own world, being her. Being perfect.
Boyfriend and girlfriend. He scoffs, mixing his coffee. Please, that will never happen.
You're really beautiful, y'know that König?
He stops.
You're... wow.
His heart beating fast yet sinking at the same time. A small sick feeling in his stomach but butterflies in his chest. He collects his eggs and coffee and places it on the table before heading to Sweetheart on the couch. He sits across from her, watching her working hands, nimble and caring to Hobbes' tears. She sees him and smiles, showing her work.
Sweetheart: Look! I'm almost done sewing up his little scars. I also fixed his eye and tightened his ears and limbs! I need to wash and refill him, though.
She went on and on, rambling on what to do for Hobbes. König smiles. He hasn't done that in so long. He takes off his hood and places his hand on her knee. Their eyes meet, hers sparkling again from seeing his face.
König, sincerely smiling: I thank you for all that you have done for me. In just a short time... I feel like I found myself again.
Sweetheart beams. She's so glad she could help him out. Seeing König in that state last night makes her heart feel heavy, but none of that. He's happy. He's relaxed. He's grateful.
Her hand rests on top of his, and he moves his into hers, Sweetheart's now perched atop of his. The sun smiles on their eyes, their different colored crystals gleam bright.
Sweetheart: You're welcome.
They stayed like that, enjoying each other's company until they were sucked in.
Her Brown Palace and His Grey Oceans.
--
Lil Bonus.!
Sweetheart: Have you noticed that Hobbes doesn't have a tail?
König, snickering: Yes, I know. When I was little, Krueger would fight me over Hobbes. And one day, he pulled on it so hard that he ripped off the tail. I cried for days.
Sweetheart:
Sweetheart, getting up: Imma choke him out.
König: Sweetheart no that was years ago!
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Reblogs and comments are highly appreciated! Thank ya for reading ♡🙏
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onlyonetifosi · 9 months
Note
Could you do Logan x pregnant wife reader?
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As the sun cast a warm glow over the picturesque Italian countryside, Y/N stood at the window, gazing out at the rolling hills. She couldn't help but smile as she thought about the news she was about to share with her beloved husband, Logan Sargeant, an accomplished F1 driver. Today, she would announce that they were going to be parents.
The couple had been together for years, having met as teenagers when Logan had made the bold decision to move from the United States to Europe to pursue his racing dreams. Y/N, being an Italian living in the UK, had been there for him every step of the way.
Y/N was standing in front of the large bathroom mirror, clutching a pregnancy test in her trembling hands. She took a deep breath, her mind filled with a million thoughts. This tiny plastic stick held the power to change their lives forever. She made her way downstairs founding Logan in the kitchen, engrossed in his morning routine of preparing a healthy breakfast. As she approached him, her heart swelled with love.
"Logan," she said, her voice filled with anticipation. "There's something important I need to tell you."
He turned to her, a curious smile playing on his lips. "What is it, amore mio?" he asked, using the endearing Italian term he often used for her.
Y/N took his hands in hers and looked into his eyes, her own sparkling with happiness. "I'm pregnant, Logan. We're going to have a baby."
Logan's face lit up with a mix of surprise and sheer delight. His eyes filled with tears as he pulled Y/N into a tight embrace. "Y/N, that's incredible! We're going to be parents! I couldn't be happier!"
Feeling a wave of relief wash over her, Y/N held him tightly, her heart overflowing with love and gratitude. In that moment, she knew that they were ready to face any challenge that lay ahead.
Over the next few months, Y/N and Logan shared their joyous news with their closest friends in the F1 world. They decided to start with their dear friend Oscar Piastri, a rising star in the racing community. Y/N had no doubt that he would make the perfect godfather for their child.
One sunny afternoon, Y/N and Logan invited Oscar to join them for a leisurely stroll through a nearby park. As they walked amidst the vibrant flowers and towering trees, Y/N felt a sense of serenity, knowing that she was surrounded by loved ones.
Finally, she found the courage to break the silence. "Oscar," she began, her voice filled with excitement. "Logan and I have some incredible news to share with you."
Oscar looked at them curiously, a playful smile on his face. "Well, spill the beans then! What's going on?"
Y/N took a deep breath, her heart pounding. "We're going to have a baby, Oscar. Logan and I were wondering if you would do us the honor of being our baby's godfather."
Oscar's eyes widened, and a look of pure joy washed over his face. He pulled them both into a warm embrace. "Y/N, Logan, I'm honored! You can count on me. I'll be the best godfather your child could ever ask for!"
As the news of Y/N's pregnancy spread, it reached the ears of other F1 drivers and their partners, and they were thrilled for Y/N and Logan and couldn't wait to celebrate this joyous occasion.
One evening, Y/N and Logan hosted a special gathering at their home, inviting their fellow F1 drivers and their partners. The atmosphere was filled with laughter, chatter, and the shared anticipation of welcoming a new member into their tight-knit community.
Y/N stood alongside Logan, her growing bump serving as a visible testament to their happiness. She glanced around the room, seeing familiar faces and feeling a profound sense of gratitude for the support they had received.
As the guests mingled, Y/N found herself drawn to Alex Albon and his girlfriend, Lily, enjoying their company and camaraderie. She knew they would be thrilled to hear the news.
Making her way towards them, Y/N couldn't help but smile. "Alex, I have something wonderful to share with you and your partner," she said, her voice brimming with excitement.
Alex's eyes widened, a mixture of surprise and curiosity lighting up his face. "What is it, Y/N? You've got that glow about you."
Y/N took a deep breath, her hand resting gently on her belly. "Logan and I are going to be parents. We're expecting a baby."
A moment of silence hung in the air before Alex and Lily erupted into exclamations of joy and congratulations. They enveloped Y/N in a warm hug, expressing their happiness for her and Logan.
"Mate, this is fantastic! You're going to be an amazing dad. Y/N, this is incredible news! We couldn't be happier for you both," Alex exclaimed, his voice filled with genuine warmth. “And I will take the role of the cool uncle. I'll teach your little one all the racing tricks."
Lily's eyes widened, and she let out a joyful squeal. "Oh my goodness! Congratulations, you two! That's incredible news!"
"Liam, we're going to have a baby," Y/N announced, her voice filled with joy when she approached the kiwi that came from Japan to visit and because redbull needed him
Liam's eyes lit up, and he enveloped both of them in a tight hug. "That's amazing, you two! You'll be incredible parents, I just know it."
The joyous announcement rippled through the gathering, spreading smiles, laughter, and an overwhelming sense of unity. The F1 community, with all its competitiveness on the racetrack, reveled in the shared happiness of this new beginning.
As the night wore on, the conversation shifted from racing to parenting, with the WAGs offering Y/N advice, sharing their own experiences, and reassuring her that she would be an amazing mother. Y/N listened attentively, grateful for the camaraderie and the wisdom bestowed upon her.
A few days later, as Logan prepared for a race, he found himself approached by Charles Leclerc. Charles Leclerc, having heard the news through his brother Arthur, made his way to Logan. A broad smile graced his face as he approached the beaming couple.
"Logan, Y/N, I heard the incredible news from Arthur and Carla" Charles said, extending a hand to his friend. "Congratulations! You're going to be amazing parents."
Logan's face lit up as he shook Charles' hand. "Thank you, Charles. Your support means a lot to us."
Charles leaned in closer, his voice filled with sincerity. "You two deserve all the happiness in the world. The news had been spread so be prepared. They're all excited for you."
The news spread, as Charles said, other drivers approached them, one after another, expressing their heartfelt congratulations. Max Verstappen, Pierre Gasly, Carlos Sainz, Lando Norris, and Yuki Tsunoda, among others, gathered around, enveloping Y/N and Logan in a sea of warm wishes.
Max, always the jokester, playfully punched Yn’s arm. "Miss Sarge, you're going to be outnumbered by racers in your own home now. Congrats, you both."
Pierre chimed in with a grin, "We're going to have a future champion on our hands. Best wishes to both of you."
Carlos joined the conversation, wrapping an arm around Y/N. "Logan, Y/N, congratulations! Parenthood is a rollercoaster ride, but it's the most rewarding one. Enjoy every moment."
Lando, his smile infectious, added, "Logan, mate, you're going to be an amazing dad. And hey, if you ever need a babysitter, you know who to call."
Yuki beamed, his enthusiasm contagious. "Congratulations, Logan and Y/N! I can't wait to meet the little one. They'll grow up surrounded by legends!"
As the drivers continued to congratulate Logan and Yn, their joy united them, forming a bond that went beyond the racetrack. In that moment, they were not just fierce competitors but a supportive family ready to embrace the next generation.
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biteofcherry · 2 years
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Alpha Steven Rogers having to get intel out of a very cute omega reader 🌚🌝 he’s all condescending with his praises as she breaks under him 😩👌🏻
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Honey not vinegar
alpha!Steve Rogers x omega female reader; dark!Steve Rogers x female reader,
warnings: manipulation; gaslighting; mild verbal humiliation; praise kink; dark!Steve Rogers; his softness serves only manipulation, it’s not because he’s actually soft; alpha!Steve Rogers; dark!avengers;
~ * ~
You trembled in fear as his hands reached out for you. Another threatening alpha who came to lash you with pain and cruel words.
But as he wrapped a blanket around you, your body froze in surprise then instantly relaxed into the soft fabric that allowed you to shield your indecent state. 
The blanket was light blue, knitted, and it smelled fresh. Such a stark contrast to your plain, sweat-soaked underwear and the thin mattress with holes in it, on which you’ve been staying for the past three days. Or was it four already? You had no idea, time passed differently when locked in a dark, windowless cell.
“There, now,” the alpha’s voice was calm and warm. “That’s better.”
You chanced lifting your gaze up to look at him. Your breath hitched when you recognized in him the poster boy of freedom, selflessness and protection. 
Captain America. Steve Rogers. 
Out of his famous suit, just in plain jeans and a tight t-shirt. His biceps were so huge he could crack your head like a walnut in a split of a second. 
“Are you going to play the good cop?” Your voice was hoarse - from all the hours without water, as well from all the screaming and crying those men who interrogated you caused. 
They tried to break you with harsh treatment, with cruel words about your brother, yourself, about all the things that would happen to you if you didn’t tell them where your brother was. Him and his team, a sleepers Hydra unit that went active. 
“No, little one.” Steve gave you a sympathetic smile. “I’m simply going to be a decent alpha.”
Before you got a chance to ask him what that was supposed to mean, Steve picked you up. 
You were too weak and too tired to fight him. Your body was achy enough it wouldn’t hold against a supersoldier’s assault. Besides, you were quite excited about the prospect of leaving this cell, no matter where he took you. Maybe somewhere worse.
Bundled in a blanket, he carried you out of the stinking cell. You passed some people in the corridor, but no one dared to even cast a glance your way. Everyone parted to the sides to make room for Steve as he went. 
He took you to an elevator; held you the whole time as it ascended onto one of the highest floors. Once there, he brought you to a spacious apartment and into the bedroom. 
Through the large, floor-to-ceiling windows you could see the tops of skyscrapers reflecting sunlight against the blue sky. A line of red-silver iron legion circled around the tower like a halo.  
Steve placed you on the bed. A big one, with a semi-soft mattress and clean sheets. It felt like the highest luxury to your bruised body. 
He sat on the bed facing you. His beautiful face showed concern, but you were too bitter to believe anyone was worried about you anymore.
“Decent alphas take defenseless omegas to their bedrooms?” Usually there’d be more spark in your tone, but you were exhausted and… sad. 
“They take care of omegas.” Steve’s easy reply hit something in you. 
That string which threatened to make you cry at your fate. 
Though the physical pain was burdening, when you cried after each interrogation it was because you mourned the life you had just a week before. And because it hurt to think that now it was reduced to being a meaningless trash no one cared for. 
“Especially ones that are important to them.” Steve reached for something on the bedside table and a second later was handing you a bottle of water. 
You took the water gladly, but frowned at Steve’s words. He either implied you weren’t important enough for someone to protect you, or he was saying your brother was a bad alpha who didn’t care about you. 
“I fear your brother has his priorities all wrong.” He sighed, shaking his head in disappointment. 
“Not only for choosing to serve Hydra.” Steve interjected when you opened your mouth to defend Caleb. “But he abandoned his own sister.”
“He didn’t-” you protested.
“Didn’t he?” Steve challenged, opening a drawer in the bedside table and taking out a small, orange bag. “He fled when he knew we got on his tail. He left a civilian, helpless omega without protection, despite being aware we will be breaking down that door.”
Your fingers clenched on the bottle as you stared not at Steve’s face, but at his fingers unzipping the bag and revealing first aid supplies.
Surprisingly gently, he pushed the blanket off your shoulders. You felt an urge to cover yourself from his penetrating gaze as it slid over you, inch by inch. Though he didn’t stare at you lewdly, you felt completely naked and vulnerable under his perceptive gaze.  
“Such a sweet thing, you are.” Steve cooed, taking your wrist in his hand and stretching out your arm. 
The little praise in his tone elicited warmth. Your eyes closed briefly, eyelashes fluttering against your cheeks as you bit your lip. 
“Did you know there wasn’t a single attempt at rescuing you?” Steve said, applying antibacterial, soothing ointment into your bruises. “Not even a search for you.” 
“Why are you telling me this?” You sniffled, less at the sting of your cuts and more because the truth Steve told you was breaking your heart.
You didn’t want to listen to him. Didn’t want to believe him. Just like you didn’t care for the words the other interrogators spat at you. But the other men pushed you around and called you a Hydra spawn, it was easy to block out their bullshit and stick to your own beliefs purely out of spite.
Steve was tending to your wounds. He spoke softly and as if he deeply cared about you. 
It’s been so long since you experienced that.
“Because, little one, you have to realize you’re not fierce, or brave, or loyal. You’re simply naive believing your brother will come for you.” How he mocked you with cruel words, but kept his voice so tender, was giving you whiplash. 
“Sweet, silly omega.” Steve wrapped a bandage around your wrist, covering the blue bruise from handcuffs. 
“You should rely on an alpha who really has your safety in mind. Allow him to protect you and care for you,” he kept listing as he rubbed your calf in a soothing manner. “Someone who would make your brother pay for how he used you and hurt you.”
Your brain seemed to fill with fog. Confusion and battling thoughts distracting you from your previously adamant determination to not break. 
Steve’s voice sounded so comforting; his touch so affectionate it made you sigh in relief and yearn for more. He took you out from that dark, cold, smelly cell and let you into his own bed. 
An enemy who did more to you than your own brother has…
“It’s your men who hurt me.” You shook your head, your bottom lip trembling. 
“They were just doing their job, as nasty it may be.” Steve squeezed your ankle, his thumb drawing circles on your skin. “But neither of them abandoned their families, or wifes to do it. Your brother did.”
“He abandoned you.” Steve said more firmly, the words sinking into your consciousness against your reason rebelling. 
“He allowed for that to happen to you. He made those people do it to you.” 
When a first, hot tear rolled down your cheek, Steve cooed. He climbed onto the bed and settled against the headboard, then swiftly pulled you onto his lap. 
“Think what more he would let happen, if I didn’t come get you.” 
You cried almost soundlessly, your fingers crumpling the fabric of Steve’s shirt as you clung to him. He smelled so nice. Like warm cookies and spicy whiskey. And he was so strong, felt so secure as you leaned into him. He made you feel safe.    
Steve rubbed your back. He rested his other hand on your hip, you didn’t even notice his thumb hooked beneath the waistband of your panties, tracing the sensitive skin there. 
“I’ve got you, little omega.” Steve murmured as you wept. 
“Isn’t that better? Having an alpha to take care of you?” He asked. “An alpha who will protect you. And guide you. Lead you so you don’t accidentally make mistakes that would hurt your fragile, sweet self.”
Steve’s fingers combed through your hair a few times. Seemingly patient for your response. Slowly, he wrapped your hair around his hand and gently tilted your head back.
“Isn’t it better?” He repeated the question.
With eyes glazed over, you looked up at him and whispered - “It’s better.”
Out of damp, dark prison where only pain awaited you; it was so much better to be here with Steve. To have him talk to you so softly, even if his words were condescending and hurtful at times. 
“I want to give you that.” Steve’s hold on your hair eased and his hand slipped to wrap around the back of your neck. His fingertips grazed your mating gland. 
“Let me keep you safe and help you grow into a wonderful, obedient little omega I know you yearn to be.”
You stared at him with hopeful eyes, a longing whimper escaping your lips as your heart ached for the secured and sunlit life Steve was tempting you with.
“I ask nothing in return, just that you trust me.” Steve lowered his head, his blue eyes holding your gaze captive. Tip of his nose nearly grazed your own. 
“Do you trust me?” He asked and when you nodded he sighed in relief and smiled at you.
It felt like a burst of sunshine from between dark clouds, warming your face and igniting hope for a happier time. 
You’ve been warned about Captain America. Never in direct words that undermined his devotion to the people, but the men in your family often mentioned a man this perfect has to have a dark side. 
But you couldn’t help but be drawn to his charm, to believe his promise of taking good care of you if you only allowed him to. 
“Thank you, little one. You’re being so good.” Steve’s praise almost made you chirp. It’s been so long since you felt appreciated. 
“Now, tell me what you know about your brother’s plans and whereabouts.” His tone was tinged with strict command and some part of you wanted to clamp up. 
Steve tsk-ed seeing your resistance. His eyebrows drew in a frown, but his hold on you remained as tender as it was. 
“Omega, you said you trust me.” He reminded you. “I need this information to ensure your brother, or any of his accomplices, never pose a threat to you. Or to any other featherbrained, weak omega they might want to use. You want to help me do that, right? Want to make me proud of how helpful you were?”
You did want that. You craved his praise more than you ever wanted your mother’s acceptance.
So you told Steve everything you knew, including a password to your own computer, because your brother occasionally used it. 
“You did so well, little omega.” Steve kissed your temple and this time you really chirped.
Something flashed in Steve’s eyes. You thought it to be a glint of cocky triumph, but it quickly dissolved into affection that fooled you. 
“Rest now.” Steve moved from beneath you, sitting you down on the warm spot he vacated.
He draped the covers over you and put the blue blanket on top of it, your fingers quickly reaching for the fabric you began associating with rescue.   
“I’ll be back soon,” he said as he stood up, “I’ll get you something to eat.”
“Thank you, Steve.” You replied, your lips curving into a first, shy smile. 
Steve bent down and cupped your chin, his fingers squeezing your flesh a tad harder. 
“If I’m to take care of you, little one, you have to address me properly.” 
“Yes, alpha.” It rolled out on your tongue immediately.
You didn’t want to disappoint Steve, fearing he’d take away his tenderness. You also felt irrationally comfortable saying it, as if something clicked right into place. 
“Good little omega.” He praised. He shifted his hand, cupping now your cheek and rubbing his thumb across your lips. 
Steve typed in the security lock as he left the apartment, making sure you had no way to sneak out, as well that no one unwanted would come in snooping.
Bucky was waiting just outside, with his back leaning against the opposite wall.
He had a pad in his hand, the screen displaying live footage from Steve’s bedroom. Sound included. The record of what you revealed to Steve has already been sent to the team, preparations for attack being made. 
“Four days of breaking her without any effect and you do it in less than three hours.” Bucky whistled.
“I told you. Honey attracts better than vinegar.” Steve smirked in victory.
“Yeah? You're gonna fill her with your honey, too?” Bucky grinned, tapping a sequence on the pad and giving it back to Steve with a stilled frame of you in Steve’s lap, looking up at him with reverence. 
“You know, I think I will.” Steve considered; he already knew you’d be so eager to please him in any way, just to hear some praise and to be touched. 
“She’s so affection-starved she’ll milk me dry and beg for more, if I only show her some tenderness.”
It would be so easy to keep you compliant. Easy to fill your simple, silly needs too and make himself into the perfect alpha in your eyes. 
“I have to say, this is the most nefarious checkmate move.” Bucky clapped Steve on the shoulder as they started walking toward the elevator.
“We gotta capture Caleb Pierce alive. Keep him in a hole in the ground, alive just enough to torment him with updates on his little omega sister whoring out for Captain America.”
“Kinda pity his old man is already dead.” Steve grinned at Bucky. “Wish we could get to see dear Alexander’s face as he learned I defiled his daughter. Maybe broadcast how she screams when I knot her.”
“Wouldn’t that be something.” Bucky sighed dreamily. 
“We’ll do that to Caleb.” Steve promised, with a dark, determined glint in his eyes. “Bury Hydra along with him forever. Just after I show him how his little sister, my sweet omega slut, grows with a baby I planted inside her.”
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a-random-whovian7 · 9 months
Text
What your favourite Doctor says about you (just like the Master and Companion lists, this is all just jokes and my own terrible takes, absolutely no offence intended towards anyone). This is gonna be a long one, so good luck:
One (I think):
Is somehow able to sit through The Keys of Marinus whilst completely sober. Their feelings on Twice Upon a Time completely depend on whether they are able to accept that TV shows made in the 1960s will inevitably have some outdated bits or not. Loves slow-burners and less science-heavy stories, and wishes the Doctor would go back to trolling his companions again. Prays every night for The Celestial Toymaker and Marco Polo to be found. Hates the Timeless Child with a burning passion.
Two:
Two fans deserve a lot better. Despite a large chunk of their era being limited to surviving audio, PowerPoint presentations telesnaps and the, er, mixed bag of animated reconstructions, they still contribute a lot to the discussion of Classic Who and are usually well versed in the lore of the EU. 2nd Doctor fans are remarkable, as they are able to get along with pretty much every other group of fans. However, there is plenty of infighting thanks to the UNIT dating controversy and which story should be reconstructed next. If they ship Two/Jamie, they have fully earned your love and are surprisingly good if you pass them the aux.
Three:
Pretty much blows a gasket whenever some idiot says that the modern era is 'too political'. Like, I'm sorry, but was the "England for the English" scene in the Claws of Axos a little too subtle for you? Were Malcolm Hulke's scripts absolutely apolitical in your eyes? Does the mere existence of The Green Death mean nothing to you?! Oh, well maybe you should try WATCHING THE SHOW and DOING YOUR RESEARCH before you start claiming that it's become 'tOo pOLiTiCaL' because the main characters aren't always played by Whiteguy McStraight now, shouldn't you?! YOU AND YOUR MEDIOCRE OPINION SHALL COWER BEFORE MY KNOWLEDGE OF THE THIRD DOCTOR'S ERA AND THERE IS NOTHING YOU CAN DO TO STOP ME!
It is for this very reason that 3rd Doctor fans get along particularly well with 13th Doctor fans. Perfectly nice people with a great sense of humour and an excellent taste in episodes, unless a conversation resembling the above occurs, at which point you will see how much damage the repressed urge to do Venusian Akido can do. Refuses to admit that The Ambassadors of Death is two episodes too long.
Four:
Either a child of the 70s or chaos incarnate. Yes, 4 is pretty much the universally recognised Doctor, but that doesn't stop him from being one of the most unhinged Doctors. Loves more gothic horror-themed episodes and can ignore the somewhat questionable production qualities of early Baker stories. They have almost certainly attempted to make The Scarf at one point; whether they were successful or not entirely depends on their talent for knitting. Is surprisingly ok with admitting that Tom Baker stayed for a little too long and that his later seasons were a little underwhelming. Hasn't stopped them from watching every version of Shada though.
Five:
The tired parental figure of any group they are in. They immediately related to this Doctor when they saw 5 trying to hold it together whilst his multiple adopted humans argued, whined and got themselves trapped on doomed freighter ships. Has tried to play cricket once, but a general confusion over the rules and a few broken windows stopped that. You can take care of the cinnamon roll that is the standard 5 fan by providing them with cups of tea, giving them lots of hugs and removing all copies of Time Flight from your house.
Six:
Best fashion sense out of all the fans... somehow. Their favourite episodes are usually Vengeance on Varos or Revelation of the Daleks (both bangers), although they lean more heavily towards EU and Big Finish material, where the stories are more consistent and the costumes are less yikes. Either the best or worst fan to be around, either giving fair balanced views on the show or just being an absolute arse. Loves cats. Hates Michael Grade. Kind of ambivalent towards Mel.
Seven:
If 2nd Doctor fans are well versed in the EU lore, then these individuals are fucking academics. Constantly annoyed that 7 had two of the best seasons of Classic Who and was the darkest Doctor but is only remembered for Time and the Rani for some reason. Their favourite companion will always be Ace, which is what motivated them to watch Power of the Doctor. Usually excellent taste in stories, but is completely capable of dragging you to the depths of the EU. Wishes the Doctor would commit a few more genocides. Their religious beliefs can be summarised in the phrase "Cartmel Master Plan". Still annoyed that the most strategic Doctor was killed by the two most American things (guns and bad healthcare), but gets along well with 8 fans despite that. Somehow understands Ghost Light after just 3 rewatches.
Eight:
Big Finish fan. Basically willing to explain the entire plot of Dark Eyes if you ask them. Thinks the TV Movie is just OK, and has rewatched Night of the Doctor too many times to count. Loves a sad boy, and has definitely referred to 8 as a "poor little meow meow" at some point. Wishes 8's TARDIS interior was still intact and that he'll get his own live action series. Had an actual heart attack when he appeared in Power of the Doctor. Usually a bisexual from my personal experience, and looking at Paul McGann in the 90s, I can see why.
War (or is it Nine?):
We're stepping into the depths of the Moffat cult with this one. Wants a more traumatised Doctor, and kind of wishes we saw more of the Time War beyond the laser battle in Day of the Doctor. Content to sit back and watch due to the fact that the War Doctor had the perfect arc in his one episode, although they are happy that the War Doctor still pops up in the EU. Bridging the gap between the modern and classic series means they get along well with everyone except Shalka fans.
Nine (the Curse of Fatal Death one):
Does this one count? Just loves the classic series. Still praying for Joanna Lumley as the Doctor. Nowhere near as obnoxious as the Shalka fans and surprisingly funny.
Nine (the Scream of the Shalka one):
They pride themselves on being 'against the trend' and being fans of an overlooked bit of Doctor Who history. Doesn't quite realise that Scream of the Shalka was basically an B-tier Big Finish story with janky animation. Wants Richard E Grant to show up again. Constantly attempting to upset Eccleston and Hurt fans, only to get angry when everyone forgets Scream of the Shalka existed. They definitely listen to Weezer.
Ten, no, another Nine (the Eccleston one):
The word "fantastic" is permanently superglued to their vocabulary, and yet it never gets old. Owns a leather jacket too. Wishes that the BBC hadn't been stupid and Eccleston had stayed on for another series, but doesn't hold it against Tennant. Knows the Daleks were at their best in S1. Really wants the Reapers to return, and was utterly distraught after Chibs kind of ruined 9's role in the wider arc by blowing up Gallifrey again. Major nostalgia for the 2000s with this one, and is slowly becoming a member of the Big Finish cult thanks to Eccleston's return. Understandably forgot Adam was a thing. Both loves and hates John Barrowman.
Ten? Eleven? Ten and a half? The Tennant one. I hate numbers:
Their first experience to Doctor Who was during the golden age- wait, no, sorry, the RTD cult has threatened to terminate my membership if I'm not honest with this one.
Either a child of the 2000s, a member of the aforementioned RTD cult or someone who just likes the show to be more emotionally resonant. Well, that or they are the blandest person alive. If they acknowledge how good 10's arc was in terms of deconstructing the Doctor and setting up his fall from grace via misplaced attachments and vanity, then absolutely someone to be around. If they simply say "because he was popular", definitely bland. We all know Tennant was popular, it's still not one of the many valid reasons to love him. They have an easygoing relationship with 4 and 11 fans, and otherwise OK relations with the rest of Doctors fan groups, although there is a bit of friction between 13 stans due to 10 being dragged into a lot of 13's media post-2020 to boost ratings. They didn't like it because it cheapned 10's return and era whilst also overshadowing 13. 13 stans didn't like it because it basically gave the message that the BBC had given up on 13 before her era had finished.
Definitely excited for the 60th after the regeneration and the announcement of RTD's return. Has tried owning a pair of converses, only to find out that they aren't exactly cheap. Has fought for the Ten/Rose ship on multiple occasions. Tried hair gel once, with disastrous consequences.
Huh. This one was incredibly easy to write. All I had to do was look in a mirror.
Thirte- no, Eleven:
Major ADHD energy in the best possible way. Saw the chaotic excitable Doctor and immediately fell in love. They will not rest until they have forced every former Doctor to read the "Hello Stonehenge" speech. They have also cosplayed the most out of any fan, due to the availability of fezzes and bow ties. Definitely the most fun to be around at a party. Was disappointed by Matt Smith's decision not to return for the 60th, especially after the absolute banger that was Day of the Doctor. If they ship 11 with River, they're cool, even though 11 was very asexual in S5. If they ship him with anyone else, then yikes. Wishes for the show to return to a quirky fairytale tone again.
If they were present during the SuperWhoLock days, keep an eye on them. You're only one drink away from dragging us back to 2013, and I ain't reading any of that fanfiction again *shudders*.
Fourte- FUCK, Twelve:
A certified member of the Steven Moffat cult, or just someone who likes some of their stories to have a slightly more mature tone. Has tried to play the electric guitar more than once, only to be forced to stop by their partners or housemates. Either willing to admit some of the flaws of the era or strongly defends it, with no inbetween. Absolutely correct in their assertion that S9 and 10 absolutely slapped, although this cam be undermined if they try to defend Sleep No More. If they ship River and 12, then you can trust them with anything, and they will offer you good relationship advice. If they ship 12 and Clara in a romantic way (which is strange to me cos i always got platonic BFF vibes from them, but that's just me), they definitely have relationship advice, although waiting 4 billion years to get your memory wiped is a questionable means of resolving conflict. They have a pair of the sonic sunglasses. Cried when Capaldis majestic floofy hair got shaved off for a superhero film.
Thirteen? That's right? Phew, finally getting the hang of this. Ok, Thirteen:
There are two types of 13 fan. The first is cinnamoniest of rolls. Is just happy to sit back and have fun, thus allowing them to enjoy pretty much any episode (something that a lot of people could learn from). Immediately realised that Jodie is an amazing Doctor and deserves more praise and justice. Definitely shipped Thasmin, and are the best at constructive criticism, recognising what worked and didn't in a respectful, polite way (again, something we could all learn from). Wierdly enough, they get along well with all the Doctor fans, as they are a wholesome ray of sunshine that reminds us that every era has something to offer, no matter the general consensus.
The second type masquerades as the first, but gets all hipster-y and more than willing to use the term 'overrated' when RTD or Tennant are mentioned (so basically a healthy 80% of the #antiRTD tag).
Both are convinced that the Chibnall Era will receive a massive reappraisal like the 12th Doctor's era did, despite the odds of that happening being the same as an on-screen Thasmin kiss. I'm so sorry, that's a really mean line to end this bit on. Let's instead end by saying Haunting of Villa Diodati is an absolute banger of an episode.
Ruth:
Loves the admittedly cool concept of a mystery incarnation. The rest depends on their theory of where the Ruth Doctor fits in. If they use the season 6B theory, then they have an encyclopedic knowledge of the classical series and the EU regardless of whether they have watched it or not. If they use the Timeless Child/Division theory, then they basically settled for the easier version of 6B after looking into the insane asylum that is classic who and EU discourse (wise choice). If they think she's from an alternative universe, thinks that she's Omega, Rassilon, The Rani, The Master or any other figure, then they practically have a gold medal in Mental Gymnastics. Either way, all of them don't like to admit that they are unfortunately limited to 4 episodes (three of them being fairly mid, the other being a mild car crash) and a pretty good comic. Cool fashion taste. Gets along with 13 stans and, surprisingly, 2nd Doctor fans.
Fourteen- oh for fucks sake:
YOU ARE TENTH DOCTOR FANS. GO BACK TO EARLIER ON IN THE POST. YES, I KNOW THAT'S THE BBC'S OFFICIAL LINE AT THE MOMENT. YES, I KNOW YOU'RE HYPED FOR THE 60TH, I AM A HYPED RTD CULTIST TOO. JUST WAIT UNTIL SEPTEMBER. P L E A S E.
Fourt- no fifteen- no, fourteen- BBC, HAVE MERCY:
Only in the Doctor Who fandom can a Doctor who has only appeared in a brief clip and some photos have a fully developed fanbase. I should know, I've already joined it. Ncuti's photos in that suit sealed the deal. Either an RTD cultist or someone just looking forward to a fresh new direction. Also very fashionable. Has a somewhat complicated relationship with 13th Doctor fans due to the fact that Ncuti's first season and casting completely overshadowed S13 and the specials, but Ncuti also had to deal with the same levels of toxicity from the same 'fans' who threw temper tantrums at Jodie's casting in 2017. Best haircuts out of all the Doctor Who fans. Strange but true.
Full Fathom Five:
Y'all scare me.
Zagreus:
Y'all terrify me.
The Watcher:
Y'all confuse me.
The Valeyard:
Has wanted a darker series since god knows when. Was kind of annoyed when the Time Lord Victorious arc wasn't dedicated to a whole series. Also, the Valeyard is the Shadow the Hedgehog of the Whoniverse. I refuse to elaborate any further.
The Curator:
"Alright gang, let's see who the Curator fans really are!"
Pulls off mask
"Fourth Doctor fans?!"
All jokes aside, they just want a more experienced Doctor. Accepts that the show will have to end one day, and is cool with that, since they already have the perfect ending. Either cool grandad vibes or an actual grandad. Good knitwear. Their response to everything is simply putting the kettle on.
Doctor Moon:
Now these ones are very, very rare. I personally love the theory that Doctor Moon is a future version of the Doctor who is keeping River and the Library safe, but limiting your favourite Doctor to two episodes and an endorsement of the theory from Steven Moffat? Now that takes guts, and I like it. Usually partial to classy clothes, and talks in a very formal tone. Their best subject is usually maths.
Dr Who (Peter Cushing):
Unashamedly insane. Saw the absolutely glorious cheese-fest that was the 1960s Dalek movies and ended up loving one of the most unique versions of the Doctor. Is absolutely fine with bypassing 90% of the TV shows lore, making them really fun to talk to. Time Lords? Nah. Sonic screwdriver? Nope. Their Doctor is a wacky grandpa who built a multi-dimensional time machine in their back garden, and they love it. Is a sucker for Alternate Universe stories and usually loves classic B-movies. Knows that the movies kind of suck as adaptations, but as pure 1960s camp, they are unbeatable. Absolute legends.
All of Them:
The glue that holds this fanbase together. Enlightened individuals who have to check in every now and then to make sure that we mere mortals are behaving ourselves. They just simply enjoy the show and hold no biases. Absolutely infuriating to talk to for that very reason.
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yesokayiknow · 3 months
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anything on 13 and 14 for the bigeneration?
-since there’s already two of them, fourteen never gets shot, which means fifteen won’t be around for a while yet 😔. it also means that both the doctors play their own games against the toymaker! fourteen sticks with highest card, thirteen goes with mario kart (and wins, for the record. yes she will be holding the fact that she won her game and fourteen lost over his head forever. oh what’s that his game was pure chance and doesn’t have anything to do with his level of skill? tough)
-donna's spare room only has one bed, and they argue over who gets it for like an hour (thirteen's like i sleep on the floor a lot anyway it's fine you take the bed and fourteen's like you literally died like 5 hours ago YOU take the bed) until donna's like Why Doesn't Somebody Take The Fucking Sofa. that somebody is thirteen bc fourteen's really tall lmao. donna comes downstairs the next morning to find fourteen curled up on the floor next to the sofa anyway and is like hm i sure hope this won't be representative of their general relationship!
-for the first week, thirteen is very much not fun to be around for reasons of she literally just fucking died and was kind of hoping that it would mean she didn't have to deal with any of that unresolved trauma (spoiler alert it's still there but It's Worse Now). eventually even fourteen starts avoiding her, which makes it ten times worse (turns out she's uh kinda bleeding psychically. that's what happens when two aliens rip open your memories again and again and then your best enemy forces a regeneration on you). this goes on until she snaps at rose, at which point donna sits her down in the shed and is like we're going to talk or else i will physically kick you out. an hour (and a lot of tears) later she brings fourteen in too. they end up having semi regular check in sessions after that and it really does help
-around a month in, they just Vanish and the tardis is gone too, and donna's like well they could've left a fucking note. but i get it. and then rose is like mum come look!!! and takes her into the shed, which is now bigger on the inside and has two full rooms, one with rose's workshop (now with a bunch of vintage sewing and knitting machines in) and one with the tardis and a hammock (for thirteen) and a sofa bed (for fourteen). donna's like oh you definitely should be in seperate rooms you guys are unhealthily close and they're like we can't hear you over our amazing coping methods
-yeah they're like. really codependent. they also have vastly different ways of getting comfort (fourteen needs to be touching somebody at all times, and also loves comfortable silences; thirteen needs a five foot cube of personal space and also can't stop talking ever Or Else The Thoughts Get Her) which isn't a super great way to live tbh! luckily you kinda need surgical tools to seperate donna and fourteen, and rose and thirteen can talk at each other for hours, so it kinda balances out. the fact that they physically need to interact with other people really helps dskjldsajklds
-while fourteen isn't ten, he's just like a more mature version of him, so he slots very easily back into donna and wilf (and even sylvia)'s lives. thirteen, on the other hand, is a completely new person, and does often feel a little out of place. once everyone else realises she feels like this they're like what the fuck are you talking about. you're sad and feral. that's the doctor
-they do eventually get better with uh lots of therapy and also getting desk jobs at unit (fourteen ends up more with the organisational side while thirteen is just Generally Sciencey. she has like forty experiments going at once. kate only knows about around 2/3 of them) plus the shed expands eventually and thirteen gets her own workshop and tinkering really helps calm her down. meanwhile fourteen starts getting into baking, and that helps him too. they both just really needed a breather, yknow?
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hyatoro · 11 months
Text
Franklin Russell
ChildhoodFriend!Yandere.
Starting off with a classic. 
Appearance: 5’7”, Brown hair, brown eyes, light tan, wears a lot of knits and stuff. Cozy clothes. Medium build. (Picrew Image at bottom)
Setting: Suburban United States
You can call him whatever you want, Frankie, Frank, Franklin. Preferably yours? lolol All of your friends have to call him Frank or Franklin though. If anyone calls him Frankie he corrects them quickly, saying that it’s reserved for you and his family (but you’re already family since he plans on marrying you anyway).
He grew up normally, having been raised well by a loving family. He has two older sisters who also treat you like a little sibling. He doesn’t mind sharing you with his family cause they taught him early on that sharing is caring (lol not in his mind), so he’s become tolerant of it. 
In that same vein he also gets along with your other friends that you two made as you grew up, but he doesn’t hold them to the same esteem as you. Everyone can tell he likes you the most, but they chalk it all up to y’all being childhood friends and that he’s just the most comfortable with you. Which it IS but also not. 
Never really hangs out with them unless you’re there, though he doesn’t leave if they find him so that’s why they never really noticed it before. Like they’ll find him at the library working on his stuff and hang with him, so in their head it’s like “yeah me and Frank have hung out by ourselves before we get along fine”. 
Uses his childhood friend privileges to enter your house uninvited. It’s fine, he was given a key. So he’s not the kind of yandere to break into your home, but he’d definitely think about it if the conditions were right (you move out of your childhood home but don’t give him a spare key so he lockpicks and gaslights you into thinking you left it unlocked cause you’re used to him just being where you live so you’re not as alarmed as you should be if he were a stranger.) And his gaslighting isn’t malicious either. It’s the kind that your friends would do if they were obviously fucking with you. “Lol what the hell are you talking about? Why the hell would I do that when I could just call you to let me in?” But it’s this friend privilege that gets abused if you look at the bigger picture. But you aren’t, don’t worry about it. 
You grow up so close that sometimes you’re too lazy to kick him out of your room if you want to change so you tell him to turn around and close his eyes. You trust him. And you should, to listen to you that is. He does exactly that and only turns around when you let him, but he engraves the sounds of your clothes shuffling around into his memory each time to fuel his nightly passions. 
Thinks you’re the funniest person and laughs at most of your jokes. You know your joke sucked if even he doesn’t laugh. Even worse if he gives you this fake ass smile and you get rowdy cause “don’t you dare give me your pity”. 
Sometimes cries when you make an effort to participate in some of his hobbies even when he knows you don’t care for them. It just means so much. He likes embroidery, knitting, crocheting, and other fiber based crafts. When you made him a crochet flower he burst into tears and patched it into his next project. Cherishes it forever. 
Honestly the only reason why he’s never asked you out is because he kind of already sees you two as a set pair already. Like there’s not really a need to ask questions he already knows(?) the answers to y’know? 
Most people are deterred when they see the way he clings to you anyway, already assuming you’re taken. And honestly your life and sail fairly smoothly like this.
But when someone who doesn’t know him, say you meet someone while he’s busy and they haven’t seen the way he glues himself to you, shows interest or, god forbid, asks you out, then he is shocked. Gobsmacked. Flabbergasted. At first he doesn’t know what to do cause this has literally never happened before. 
Then he sticks by your side more than ever. He’s clingy. He’s never leaving you open to flirtatious advances ever again. You don’t even need to think about responding to their confession. Was there something you liked about them? He does his best to change to become more your type. 
In more extreme cases he would go as far as dyeing his hair, getting piercings (to a certain extent. He’s still somewhat his own person), and even getting tattoos. Which in his tastes, isn’t really part of his aesthetics. But he’d do it. 
If you suggest getting matching tattoos/matching ear piercings, then he kind of just assumes that it’s y'all getting pseudo-married. Behaves as such. 
Part of the reason why he’s still somewhat normal is because he is the youngest with two older sisters, and that does things to a motherfucker so he knows how to behave. And he knows how to fall back in line. 
Borrows your clothes all the time with zero remorse. Bigger or smaller than him it doesn’t matter he will take what he can. Don’t ask about the underwear he knows nothing about it (it’s under this secret flap in his dresser drawers. Third one down on the right.) 
Loves loves loves your casual affection with him. You always protected him when you were kids so he loves viewing you as his own personal hero, his savior. Grows his hair out a bit when you say it’s nice to thread your fingers through. Doesn’t grow it long cause he doesn’t like it, but would if you pampered him enough. 
He just loves letting you take control of him and taking your orders. He thrives on being subservient to you. He grew up used to getting bossed around, so it’s a comfort zone for him. Even better because it’s the object of all his affections. 
He prefers gentle domming cause the nature of this dynamic is cozy obsession. 
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https://picrew.me/en/image_maker/61925
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jeanboyjean · 2 months
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PART 1: First Impressions
a/n: guys doing a chaptered fic is so hard bc u have to plan everything. ive outlined this one + written some of the next parts so this is part 1/10 (I think). see masterlist for synopsis + each part as they get updated. wc: 4.5k MASTERLIST | AO3
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A warm breeze tickles your skin as you step onto campus, the atmosphere thick with the restless buzz of first day jitters. The sun is well and truly shining today, clear blue skies with not a cloud in sight. You have to admit, it’s a gorgeous day. 
Of course, it hadn’t started out that way. The first thing you had heard in the morning had been the unwelcome sound of your alarm, jolting you awake at the pleasant hour of six o’clock. It had taken all of your willpower to drag yourself out of bed after giving yourself a half hour leeway to snooze. It’d been two months since summer break first started and you really had gotten used to having the free time to laze around and relax, going to bed late at night and waking up whenever you pleased. Now, it’s the first day back at Uni, back to reality and it’s like being splashed by a bucket of ice cold water over your head.
The morning is a blur as you rush to get ready and leave on time after staying in bed a few minutes too long. This year you’re living with your childhood friend Mikasa again. The two of you had moved together from your hometown of Shiganshina for University two years ago, along with Eren and Armin, the other two in your tight knit friend group. You’ve managed to snag a small two bedroom townhouse close enough to Uni that you’ll be in close proximity to everything you need for the year. Even better, you’re lucky enough that Eren and Armin have managed to sign a lease for another unit right next door. It just feels right that all of you stick together, their presence a slice of home that you hold near and dear to your heart. Unlike you, Mikasa is a morning person. A note on your kitchen bench tells you she's already up at the gym and she'll be home later for dinner. You shake your head and make a face - that could never be you.  
You decide to take a detour on your walk to campus and the first thing you do when you leave your place is stop by your favourite coffee shop. There’s just no way to avoid it. You're going to need some caffeine today, something to breathe the life back into you. Honestly, you had been dreading this day since the start of your break, a persistent doomsday countdown always nagging in the back of your head. At this very moment, there’s nothing you want more than to be still in bed, dreaming away the morning with no responsibilities or stress. 
You have fifteen minutes until your first class starts by the time you make it to campus. Although the sprawling buildings are a familiar sight, a small knot of dread ties itself in your gut. You always forget how much you associate with a place until you’re back. Now that you're here again, you can't help but relive the past trauma. You pass by a bench you remember you sat on when you got your grades back for that one assignment you spent hours and lost years of your lifespan for, only to be rewarded with a sad B minus. A shiver rolls over your body at the memory - that was not a good day at all. The old faithful library where you’ve spent countless nights staring at your notes, willing the information to absorb into your brain, is ever present in your peripheral vision as you make your way across the great lawn. 
Laughter erupts from a group of students sitting on the grass a few metres away from you and tinny pop music blares from a small speaker next to them. Reunions are happening around you, arms being thrown around shoulders and chatter bubbling away as your peers catch up with each other after the weeks apart. Despite the apprehension of being back at Uni, you're also excited to finally reunite with some friends yourself. You glance down at your phone lock screen - five minutes to go. A light breeze rustles your hair as you hurry your pace towards your destination, the science building. 
You’re out of breath by the time you make it up the steps and push open the doors to the building. It’s your third year of being a biomedical science student at the University of Mitras and it never ceases to amaze you how large the campus can feel sometimes. There are always moments where you start getting used to the expansive grounds and then you’ll be caught off guard by a towering building with grand architecture and you’re reminded not to take things for granted. 
You bring your phone up to your face again to quickly check your room in your timetable. Room 201. A sigh of relief escapes you; you’ve had classes there before. Despite almost having lived in this area of campus for the past couple years with the number of hours you'd spent here, it’s still a maze of corridors and you know from experience it’s not hard at all to find yourself getting lost. You race up the stairs to the second floor and, always a creature of habit, you take your seat in the same spot as you always had - third row, furthest to the left. 
Voices chatter away in the room and your fellow students gradually pour in in a steady stream, taking their own seats. You exchange smiles and waves with the faces you recognise. Most of you have shared multiple classes with each other since by this point in your degree, you’re all pretty much on a similar track.
A warm smile, bright as sunshine, greets you across the room and you straighten in your seat, waving enthusiastically. Your friend, Historia, who you had met as lab partners last year hurries over to you. Grinning, she stops short in front of your desk, dropping her bag down on the seat next to you. 
“Oh my God! I missed you!” She squeals, arms flinging open wide to capture you in a hug. 
You get up and squeeze her tight in a warm hug. “It’s so good to see you again! How was your summer?” 
“It was great,” she sighs wistfully. “I wish it wasn’t over yet. How about you?”
She pulls her bag off her shoulder and sets it down on the desk next to yours. Sitting down, she begins pulling her laptop and iPad out of her bag to get ready for class. The two of you jabber away, catching up on the events of the past few months. Every summer since you moved to Mitras, you’ve gone back to your hometown to stay with your parents. Meanwhile, Historia had stayed in Mitras with her girlfriend Ymir and they’ve finally moved in together.
“Ymir let me decorate the whole place,” She giggles. “Even the bedding and couch cushions.”
“I bet it looks amazing,” You say sincerely. 
“You should come over and visit! We were thinking of doing a housewarming party now that everyone’s back in town.”
Excited by the idea, you eagerly nod in agreement. A party sounds like a great way to start off the new year. The lecture room looks like it’s finally filled with students and when you look towards the front, you see the short stature of your lecturer Levi Ackermann as he finishes getting set up for class. Silence falls across the room when he gently taps on the microphone, signalling for attention. 
“Alright class. This is Biology 310. It’s 9:00 am now so we’re going to get started. Anyone who’s not supposed to be in this class please leave now.” 
Levi carries on, outlining the content the course would be covering for the rest of semester. It all sounds pretty standard to you, having been in his classes before, but it's a definite step up in terms of course load. You’re already dreading the amount of study you’re going to need to do to make sure you don’t drown in stress by the time exams roll around. Straightening up, you make sure to pay extra attention when he starts explaining the grading structure, starting with a weekly pop quiz, followed by four tests spread out throughout the term.
“You will be pleased to hear there is no final exam for this course,” Levi’s low, gravelly voice travels across the room. 
Your eyebrows raise in surprise and you turn to Historia. No final exam? You mouth at her and she shrugs. 
“Instead, you will have a final project that will be comprised of findings from your labs over the next few months and a final presentation. This will be a group project in pairs of my choosing.” 
Dread fills your body at his words and you try not to sigh as you slump down in your chair. Group projects have got to be the worst thing ever, a torture form created by the gods of education just in case you weren’t already struggling enough in your academic pursuits. Even better is the fact that you won’t even be able to choose who to partner with. In every piece of collaborative work you’ve ever done, there’s always been that one asshole that refuses to do their part and you’ve always been the one to pick up the slack. 40% of your grade , you hear Levi say and you groan inwardly, already fearing for the worst.
At the podium, Levi presses a button on his laptop and the projector screen lights up with a chart filled with names, grouped together in twos. 
“This is who you will be partnered with for the rest of the semester. I don’t want to hear any whinging and moaning about this because I’ve planned everything deliberately. I’m going to call out your names, put your hand up when you hear yours so you know where they are. When I’m done you can move over to sit together.”
He starts listing off the names with haste, barely looking up to confirm the pairings have identified each other before moving on to the next. You’re tense with anticipation as you wait for him to call out your name, eager to find out who you would be working with. Finally, you hear him say your name into the microphone and you perk up.
“... you will be with Jean Kirstein.”
Hand in the air, you turn around searching for his location. Your eyes fall on a man with light brown hair in a shaggy mullet, sitting a few rows behind you in the middle. His eyes meet yours and his hand lifts to give a small wave. You point your finger at yourself then around to him, signalling that you would move back to him.
Quietly, you pack up your things into your bag and wait. When Levi finishes rattling off the names, you push back and scurry over to Jean’s desk, plopping down next to him. 
“Hey,” you begin, smiling warmly. You introduce yourself to him, holding out your hand for him to shake.  
He just blinks at you blankly before the edges of his lips lift in what honestly looks like a small grimace. “I’m Jean.”
“Nice to meet you, Jean,” you reply, smile a little strained now with his chilly reception. You drop your hand awkwardly and wipe your clammy palms on your thighs. “How exciting that we’re going to be partners, huh?”
Ice runs through your veins when Jean winces at your words, actually groaning out loud. “Yeah, great. We’re partners.”
What the hell? Although his reaction stings a little, you try to shake it off. You're a natural people pleaser and one of your fatal flaws is that you always want to give off a good impression and give people the benefit of the doubt. You clear your throat and reach for your phone. “Guess we’re going to be spending a lot of time together now. How about we swap numbers so we can get in contact with each other?” 
Jean gives a small nod and accepts the phone you’re offering to him. As he enters in his digits, you shift in your chair, a little uncomfortable with his cold demeanour.  
"So, what’s your major?” You ask, cautiously. 
“Biomed.”
“Oh, cool! Me too.” 
His eyes flicker up to meet you and he wordlessly hands back your phone. 
“You also pre-med?” You ask him.
He just nods in response. Your fingers tap a restless rhythm onto the desk surface, about ready to take flight. The low hum of voices fill the room as your fellow classmates get to know each other and prepare for the upcoming semester. The silence between you and Jean, however, is thick and unrelenting. You wonder what could possibly be his problem. Sure, you’ve seen him in classes before but you've never had the chance to interact. There’s no reason why he should be acting like such a dick towards you. It’s just your luck to be paired with the one person who seems to have something against you. Fuck group projects.
You sneak another glance at Jean sitting next to you. He’s leaning back in his chair, legs extended in front of him between his desk and the seat in front, taking up the walking space as if it belongs to him. He’s tapping away at his laptop keyboard and curiosity gets the better of you as you lean in a little closer to see his screen.
“What are you doing?” You ask, leaning your weight half off your seat as you crane your neck towards him. 
At your words, his head snaps to you and your eyes meet. Your breath catches in your throat. Somehow, you’ve ended up face to face with him and up close you feel like you’re really seeing him for the first time. His eyes are locked on yours - amber with flecks of light honey. The world seems to slow for a moment as you stare at him, all of a sudden a deer trapped in headlights. You blink and clear your throat, leaning further away from him until you feel safe enough from the magnetism of his presence. 
“Jean?”
He straightens. The faintest hint of pink tinges the tips of his ears. “W-what?”
“I asked you what you’re doing?”
“Oh.” He turns back to his laptop, shifting the screen slightly so it’s easier for you to see. “I was just making an outline for this class … so I know what assignments we have and when they’re due and stuff.” 
A quick glance reveals a tidy table with colour coded headings and columns, half filled with empty spaces yet to be filled. You can’t help but feel a little taken aback. True, you don’t know anything about him but from first glance with his worn jeans and scruffy shoes, table empty except for his laptop, no notebooks or stationery in sight, he doesn’t really seem like the organised, neat freak type to you. He must be able to read the surprise on your face because his lips tug down and he lets out a scoff. 
“What? Didn’t think I would be someone to take my studies seriously?”
Huh, the fuck? 
You recoil. In an instant your body becomes as rigid as ice while your wide eyes snap to him in shock. “No! Why would you say that?” you question him, completely flabbergasted.
He just shakes his head, the displeased expression remaining on his face. “Whatever.”
You just sit there dumbstruck, completely lost by what’s just happened. Did you miss something? Did you do something? Why does he hate you so much? Possible scenarios race through your mind of potential ways you could have offended him, but nothing sticks. There’s honestly nothing you can think of to warrant this reaction from him. 
In your head you try to hype yourself up (It’s just one project - you can do it!) but the unease remains as you slump into your chair and groan internally when you remember that yes it’s one project, but it's worth 40% of your grade. As a pre-med student, you feel the weight of every percent and you’re barely holding on as it is. A memory of your father lecturing you about the importance of your grades flashes in your mind and you wince. If your grades drop even slightly this year it's going to be all over for you. This predicament had the potential to well and truly be the straw that broke the camel’s back. 
At the front of the room, you watch as Levi leans forward into the microphone again. Your peers quieten around you when he speaks, his amplified voice booming from the speakers. 
“Alright guys. That’s all the time we have for today. First lab’s on Wednesday. Any problems, just email me.” 
At that, the tables around you burst in a flurry of movement as you all pack your things and get ready to move to your next classes. You shove your laptop into your tote bag and sling the straps over your shoulder. You’re about to get up when you pause, remembering Jean sitting next to you. Stiffly, you turn towards him and open your mouth, unsure of what to say to him. 
“Well … I’ll see you in the lab,” you manage awkwardly.
Jean shoots a quick glance at you and nods once. “Yeah, see you.” 
Alright then. You turn away with a grimace. A gut feeling tells you this semester is going to be a real shitshow. As you walk away, you try to conjure up happy thoughts in an effort to erase the dark cloud currently hanging over you. Ahead of you, Historia waves to get your attention as you make your way to the doorway and she waits patiently for you to catch up. 
“Bio 320 next?” She asks, linking arms with you and leaning her head onto your shoulder. 
“Yup. We’re lucky it’s just down the hall. Let’s go,” 
As you start walking, the phantom weight of a pair of eyes on the back of your head urges you to turn around. When you glance over your shoulder, you catch Jean staring at you. From the distance, you can't make out his expression, but he has his head resting in his hand with his arm leaning on his desk. His eyes lock on yours and you can tell there’s no smile on his face. Your legs root to the ground as you both freeze momentarily, eyes wide. He's the first to break, quickly snapping his head away to look down at his phone. You watch the way his hair falls to hang in front of his eyes and his leg bounces restlessly as he feigns interest in whatever is on his screen.
Historia tugs your arm, shaking you from where you stand frozen with your head pointed towards his direction. There’s a slight pinch when she pokes a sharp nail hard into your shoulder. You reach up to rub at the sore spot and shoot her a look.  
“Ow, what the hell?” You yelp, glaring daggers at her.
She rolls her eyes and pulls your arm again. It causes you to stumble a little in her direction. “Quit staring and let’s go.”
“I wasn't staring,” you grumble, but your feet finally unroot themselves and you follow her lead towards the next room. 
“Yes you were … and I don't blame you. You got so lucky getting paired with Jean Kirstein. He's so smart, you’re going to have such an easy time with this project.” Her eyes light up and there’s a cheeky lift to her lips when she speaks her next words. “Plus he's not bad on the eyes right?”
You make a face at her. “I don't feel very lucky right now. I think the guy has it out for me or something. What’s the point in being smart if you’re a righteous dick” 
Historia snickers. A hand comes up to cover her mouth when she sees your disgruntled look but it’s to no avail because she can’t stop giggling. “Trust you to get on his bad side already,” she says between her tittering. “I talked to him last year once in a lab and he seemed really nice.” 
You huff and pull away from her, crossing your arms in front of your chest. Great, so it’s personal then. For some reason, this Jean guy must actually genuinely dislike you. Whatever. It doesn't phase you. He can glare as much as he wants and do his best to intimidate you or whatever it is he seems to be trying but it won't matter. At the end of the day, you're here to do the work and get the grades and he can continue being his miserable self if he pleases.  
The two of you walk into your next class and take your seats. You sigh as you pull out your laptop again, settling in for another lecture. It's only the first day but you're already counting down the hours until you get to go home. 
By the time you get home after your first day, you’re exhausted. It always takes some time for you to adjust to the routine of sitting in hours of classes and labs when you first get back from break. You kick off your shoes and drop your bag down on the floor as you shut the door behind you. The aroma of cooking spices wafts around you, getting stronger and stronger until you see Mikasa standing in the kitchen. A pot filled with a thick liquid bubbles in front of her as she slowly stirs it with a wooden spoon.
“It smells delicious in here,” you tell her enthusiastically, waving your hands towards your nose as you do an exaggerated inhale. “Whatcha making?”
Mikasa looks over her shoulder and smiles. “Japanese curry and rice. Is that okay?”
“Of course! I’ll eat whatever you make, Chef.” You lean next to her and peer into the pot. “That looks good. Need any help?” 
She nudges your shoulder and slaps your hand away playfully when you reach for the spoon. She waves her hands, as if shooing away a fly hovering over a plate of food. “No, I’m fine. I’m pretty much done - just need to plate this up.” 
You put your hands up in mock surrender and back away. Reaching into the cupboards above you, you grab a couple plates and pass them to Mikasa. She accepts them gratefully and begins scooping enough food to satisfy your appetites.  
“How was your day?” You ask her as you both sit and dig in. Steam wafts from the curry, fresh off the stove and you’re careful to not let the hot food burn your mouth. “Mmm, this is really good Mikasa,” you say between mouthfuls.
She smiles. “Thanks. It was okay. Nothing exciting.” 
Like you, Mikasa had started off as a science student too, but had soon realised halfway through her first semester that it just wasn’t for her. With her natural talents in athletics and martial arts, she had chosen to change to physical education instead. A part of you always feels a little jealous when you think about how easily she had made the change and stuck to it once she had made up her mind. If only you could change your major too, or drop out altogether. The dark cloud is back as you think back to the day you've had today. Without meaning to, your shoulders slump and you sag a little as you pick at your food. A bit of curry splashes out of your bowl when you scoop a little too forcefully. 
Mikasa cocks her head to the side, looking at you with mild concern. “How about you?”
You roll your eyes and groan. “Where do I start … Got to my first class only to be told we have to do a stupid paired project and then of course my partner turns out to be a fucking weirdo who hates me for some reason.” 
“Yikes … What do you mean by "hates you”?” She asks, fingers coming up to form air quotes.
“I don’t know!” You exclaim. “I’ve literally never met the guy before but he was acting like I killed his cat or something. I’ve never had someone be so hostile towards me before.”
“Would he be anyone that I know?”
“No, I doubt it. His name’s Jean and he’s a biomed major like me. I don’t think you would have ever met him.”
Mikasa shovels another spoonful into her mouth and hums in thought as she chews. Her eyebrows furrow slightly and her chewing pauses momentarily. “Jean … kind of sounds familiar” she mutters. “But you’re probably right, I doubt I would have met him.”
You shrug and pull a face. There’s a clang of metal as your spoon scrapes the bottom of the bowl. “He’s an asshole that’s for sure,” you grumble. 
You finish off the last of your food and sit back, folding your arms over your chest. Across the table, Mikasa scrunches her nose at you as she eats. She’s scolded you in the past for eating too fast but it’s a bad habit picked up from having to fit in feeding yourself between cramming for exams. Her eyes study your sour face with humour as she swallows her mouthful. 
“Wanna watch something? I can ask Eren and Armin what they’re up to. Would that cheer you up?” 
Despite feeling a little like a child being given a new toy to distract from throwing a tantrum, you can’t help but brighten up a little at her proposal. A smile forms on your face and you nod enthusiastically. 
“Yes! Might as well since we have nothing to study yet anyway.” 
She claps her hands. “Okay then. Let me send a text to the group. I'm sure they're free.” 
new notification in the 3 musketeers + eren 
mama mika: where are you guys rn    eren 😎: Just got done at the gym.    Armin ☀️: How was your first day guys?   mama mika: come over? movie marathon    Armin ☀️: Oh no bad day?   You: im stuck with an asshole all semester :/// i’ll tell you more later You: only a binge session with my faves will save me    Eren 😎: K we’ll come.  Eren 😎: Do you have food though I'm starving    You: yeah mikasa made curry and it's chef's kiss   Eren 😎: oh sweeeeet that sounds good Eren 😎: When are you cooking again?   You: tomorrow :D why?   Eren 😎: Cool. Remind me to eat before I come over tomorrow    You: what the hell You: my food is great wtf you would be lucky to eat it   Eren 😎: [sent a photo] Eren 😎: Why you lyin   you: i hate you so much You: not like i offered anyway 🙄   you have changed the group name to eren hate club    Eren 😎: why   eren has changed the group name to eren fan club   you have changed the group name to eren hate club   Armin ☀️: Guys don't fight. We'll be there in 15   You: he started it  You: yayyyy :)))) can you bring snacks?   Eren 😎: We don’t have any   You: :(((( you: wasn't asking u, dickhead   Armin ☀️: We’ll grab some on the way!   You: :DDD you: ok then see you soon 😘 you: i wanna watch fast and furious
Eren sent a photo of a pot with spaghetti on fire from when you last cooked for the team. It's only happened once in your life but he won't let it go.
Why does jean hate reader so much? 🤔 Surely he’s not someone that would intentionally be a dick for no reason. Stay tuned!!!
taglist: @honeybleed @cptnleviackerman @310802 @milky-aeons
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inhuman-obey-me · 8 months
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I wonder…… would it be actually possible for an angel and a demon to have offspring? And even then what it would be like? I don’t remember if there’s anything like that mentioned in the game, and considering they’re like, mortal enemies maybe in the bible lore I doubt that realistically there would be any answer apart from “no” but like……… imagine an angel/devil child in om and what it could mean for the three realms👀
Interesting question, since theoretically angel/demon physiology should be some kind of similar/compatible, but our answer is pretty definitively no, they could not have offspring together.
We have talked a bit previously about where we think angels and demons respectively come from in our Three Realms Headcanons post many moons ago, but here's a quick recap of the relevant parts:
All angels are created by their "Father" aka God; there is no concept of pregnancy or fertility amongst angels because God personally creates each of them.
Unlike angels, who are each created by God, some demons -- especially minor/lower ones -- are born through the manifestation of humans’ sins and negative energy.
Mid-tier and high level demons can be created through various means, including but not limited to sex. However, sex and pregnancy do not work the same way for demons as they do for humans. All demons involved have to consciously imbue themselves with magic that will make them fertile and guarantee conception; otherwise they are sterile by default.
This process also isn’t limited to a pair of male/female demons - multiple demons of whatever gender can contribute to the conception of a demon baby, and the child will take traits from every parent involved.
Other mid- and high-tier demon births can come from ceremonies, rituals, magic, etc.
We know that, canonically, the angels all call each other Brother and Sister, and all of them refer to God as Father as it is implied he is the one who created each of them. We also know that, as Simeon himself describes, "Lucifer and his brothers" were always a more close-knit group than how other angels interacted and they as a unit were their own separate thing. Additionally, it has been implied that angels do not necessarily get created as babies; although there are many "when you're older" comments made towards Luke, Asmodeus talks about the first Asmo Night being something like 1 week after his creation. Together, this all implies that none of them otherwise have "biological" families that that gave birth to them, and none of them can be parents either, as only God can create angels. Though to be clear, this isn't an "angels can't have sex" statement, only "angels can't have babies"!
Now, arguably since our headcanons for the demon side of births do include magical ceremonies and angels do have magic, there could perhaps be angel magic contributed into the birth of a demon. However, we also know that Mammon has suggested that angel blessings could kill a demon like him. Therefore, it would seem like rather than helping to create a new demon, it would hurt the potential demon baby or cancel out the demon magic in that process.
As for what a demon/angel child would mean for the OM world if one could be born, well, that's basically answered by MC's existence! Season 2 basically revolves all around the idea that MC has both angel magic from Lilith and demon magic from the pacts. And, well, Season 2 treats it as a deeply unstable combination that in fact threatens the safety of all three realms. So, maybe it's a good thing if there can't be any children born between angels and demons!
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