#eventually they'll see through it all

[overworkedunderwhelmed]

The real love language of the Love Square is clownery.

[lenreli]

Dreamling Drabble Series Masterpost

A collection of the various little series in my drabbles! :D

Dreamling Masterpost (other fics/drabbles etc)

Vampire Hob

Hurry > "I wouldn't do that if I were you" > Good Boy > Messy

Photographer Dream

Hair Pulling > Cherries > Camera

Bartender Dream & Chef Hob

"Just admit it already" > Drops

Regency Enemies-to-lovers

Enemies to Lovers > Furry > Quickie > "Forget about it"

Dream in a Choker

Latex > French Kiss

Vaguely Period Mean Hob

"You can't say no forever" > "Another round?"

1389/2022 Swap

"No way" (1389 Hob/2022 Dream) > Cruise Ship (2022 Hob/1389 Dream) > Unlimited (2022 Dreamling)

Comic/Show Swap

"Yeah, right" // I wanna feel myself denied (4k+)

Pirate Captain Hob & Ex-Noble Dream

"Better safe than sorry" > Fighting Kink > Pirate AU > Red > Golden

Scifi with Vampire Hob & Witch Dream

"Why are you kneeling?" > Courtesy > "Not in particular, no" > Calendar > "I need you" > Skinny

Djinn Dream

Djinn Dream > Woods > Into The Woods

Life!Hob

Reverse!verse > Upside Down > Whisper // Sunlit Station (1.9k)

Professional Model Hob

Pine > Model AU > Leaking

"Antagonistic" Teachers

"I'm going to kill you" > "Don't kid yourself"

Sculptures & Dreams Art Gallery > "He's not my boyfriend"

Boss Dream & PA Hob 50 Shades But Good > Sunset

Getaway Driver Hob & Criminal Dream "Good luck" > Ticking Clock > "Don't take me for a fool"

Neighbours "I'm your new neighbour" > "Louder"

BDSM with Werewolf Hob & Fairy Dream "See what happens" > Sex

Spin the Bottle Spin the Bottle > New Experience

Spanking "Do I have to say it again?" > Offering

[blindwideopen]

We truly mean nothing to you. Our suspicions were confirmed. Nothing but another toy to you.

[ashherahh]

your first time with your future spouse +18

Note: Please take it if it resonates, leave it if it doesn't. Meditate before making your decision. It's completely okay if you don't resonate with this reading. The collective is huge and I'm sure you'll receive the messages you need in due time.

pile 1

You're seen as quite meek by most people and even by your future spouse when you first meet them. Eventually they learn what a little freak you are! You're so prim and proper and polite in front of others but when you're alone you're a bit depraved. You're what people would call a mental slut.

The energy I'm picking up is that you weren't really sexually compatible with previous partners and so you just thought that you're not someone who feels that intense sexual attraction people always seem to be talking about. That doesn't stop all the thoughts you have.

There's a strong energy of abstinence but there's definitely an underlying energy of someone that is like a caged werewolf under a full moon.

To explain what I'm seeing, it's as though you do get sexually aroused but no one seems to tick your boxes in a sense so you haven't gone all the way in a hot minute. It's like mentally, you're really pumped up and then you're in front of someone and it's like being thrown with a bucket of ice water. I am seeing a problem with climaxing and your mind kind of wanders a bit.

When you first do the deed with your future spouse, you give disclosures and you do make them aware of how you feel about sex and your experiences. You're very open with them, mainly because you don't want to get your hopes up and you don't want them to be disappointed.

Your future spouse is very patient with you and they're very understanding. I'm seeing you're very comfortable with them, that's why the two of you are able to discuss intimacy so openly.

Lemme tell you something, they are so confident in themselves and they're going to teach you a thing or two. Wink wink, nudge nudge.

They keep this to themselves because they don't want you to overthink your first time together and they want to keep you as present in the act as they possibly can.

You ever crave something but you can't seem to figure out what it is? Then when you do stumble across it, it's like puzzle pieces falling in place. That's what your first time with them is like.

I'm seeing that they hold you quite close to them through the entire act. They'll keep your back to their front or they'll put you in positions where you feel like they're all over you.

They talk you through it, not really dirty talk but more like they give you a lot of praises. I'm seeing that they touch your belly a lot, that's a very sensitive spot for you that you didn't even know about.

Your future spouse has stamina and I do see it takes a while for you to orgasm the first time but their focus is completely on you. They really get off on seeing you thoroughly pleasured. You two leave each other feeling so satisfied, and it only gets better from there.

pile 2

You love your future spouse's voice and their hands. It's as though your entire body is voice activated around them. That's the first thing you notice about them. I'm seeing that they have an accent different from yours as well.

They have a very commanding energy. Someone who is very solid and stable and career oriented. Big boss vibes.

They use that same energy in the bedroom...

Hehehe oh they like to stand behind you and whisper in your ear, even if it's normal things, they like to tease you and see your reaction to them.

They have beautiful hands and because they've picked up on how much you like that part of them, they're constantly putting them on display so to speak. They also like to flex around you too. The physical attraction between the two of you is so carnal and thick, you could cut through it with a knife.

You two know each other, I am seeing a work setting. You're in an environment with them whereby if you weren't, you wouldn't know one another or be in the same circles because of how different you are. I am seeing that you guys are not dating when you have sex for the first time but it does become an exclusive relationship afterwards.

You mask your attraction to them behind annoyance, but because they're quite attractive and very charismatic, they can see it and they do things on purpose to get a rise out of you. Your discussions become quite heated with them, they like to debate with you.

Your future spouse is a brat tamer and you're a brat. Even if you're not into the BDSM lifestyle, they're definitely not vanilla, that's the kind of dynamic you have. So, your first time with them is very... unplanned. It's sudden and kind of just happens but it's so explosive. I see this happening in their space so to speak.

They spent so long teasing you and riling you up, that they have been doing it to themselves in the process as well.

It's as though your spouse was waiting so long for this and they have no control at all. They're like someone starved and they want to do everything with you. Meanwhile you're just head empty because did you want this all along? Ohmygoodness, you did!

Goodness, your first time is more like a quickie because you two just can't control yourselves around each other!

You both come to terms with your true feelings for each other during the act. It's like a revelation. You can't get enough of one another.

pile 3

Tantric sex. Your first time with your future spouse is so spiritual, it's proper lovemaking. Not rushed, no anxiety, no overthinking. This is like a joining of souls.

I'm seeing that you and you future spouse take the act of sex very, very seriously. You two are very involved in spirituality so you both don't want any unwanted soul ties or things like that. I am seeing you two waiting a looooong time before having sex. I'm seeing strongly that many of you will wait until you're married, I'm not seeing a conventional marriage ceremony either.

Because of the lifestyle you practice, you want to make sure that you're in this forever. Your future spouse already feels that they'll spend the rest of their earthly life with you and so they're not rushed to have you the first time. You on the other hand... you're chomping at the bit to have them and they know it but they always redirect your energy. Your libido seems a lot higher than theirs on the surface, but it's only because they've been practicing on controlling theirs a lot longer than you have.

I see that they were born into this lifestyle and these spiritual practices, and you only started later in life.

They try and get you to do other activities to get your mind off of sex but sometimes you'll just be looking at them and they'll catch you and be like, "Nah uh, not my goodies, not yet."

It's really not that they don't want you but they want things to be in place before they have you like that so to speak. Sometimes, even though you understand where they're coming from, you still feel at times that they're not into you.

All of that goes out of the window your first time with them!

They really set the mood with candles and music. They take their time preparing you as well. They'll give you a full body massage. They love to use their mouth on you... So, foreplay will have them with their head between your legs for a while.

I'm seeing that their eyes are on you constantly, even in the throws of pleasure they'll try to keep looking into your eyes. They'll be watching your reactions and they love to hear you.

Phew! It's hot in here!

You were not expecting your future spouse to be so intense and so passionate. Their sexual energy is not really "aggressive", it's more sensual. They want all of your senses to be tantalised. All of those times they have you do something else will be so worth it.

[quantum1mmortality]

Captain Curly; marriage hcs <3

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Chat I know I mentioned getting back into writing for twst but the current hyperfixation is too strong rn so just bare with me I NEED to write for mouthwashing

!this is written with an AU in mind; curly still works for pony express, but there's no ship. Just a normal job. Also J***y doesn't exist.!

Tw/cw; afab!reader, mentions of pregnancy and having said baby, MANHANDLING!!!!, teasing, use of pet names, uhhh I can't think of any else

Not proofread

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Sfw

I think Curly would definitely be a family oriented person. The further you'd get into your relationship, the more he'd ask about your opinion on kids and if you'd want any in the future.

I also think Curly would be on the traditional side, too. If you said yes to having kids, he'd take that as an opportunity to show you how good of a provider he can be, and how willing he is to become a father.

When you do eventually have children, he'd be more than willing to take off work to help around the house. You just gave birth, he knows it's hard for you, so he'd make breakfast, lunch, and dinner for all three of you.

Sidenote; Curly would definitely be a good cook. He probably took culinary in highschool

If he knew Anya at the time, he'd have her babysit your children so he could take you out on dates. This happens quite often, too; probably around once or twice a month. He just wants to show how much he appreciates you and everything you've done for him and your relationship <3

He'd take you to the most expensive restaurants and tell you to order whatever you wanted, and if you're done breastfeeding, he'd order a bottle of champagne for you both.

He'd be one of those "I love my wife" husbands. Everyone at his job is so sick of hearing him talk so highly of you. It'll be someone's birthday, they'll bring a cake, and he just won't eat it. Why? "My wife could make a better cake."

After you guys got married, he couldn't stop calling you his wife. That name felt so surreal to him; like the woman of his dreams is finally his? And there's a title for that?? Of course he's going to use it constantly.

He probably also took Anya out to help him pick out a ring. And thank god he did btw because he would've gotten you a ring with the biggest diamond they had 😭😭 (sorry to all the big ring lovers in chat rn they're just not it for me)

Nsfw

Curly is a romantic. He'd want to take things slow, cherish you as much as possible, especially if it's your first time.

He wouldn't think of it as sex, he'd think of it as lovemaking; showing you his worth and how much he cares about you.

He rarely gets rough, you have to ask him to be because he just won't do it. But, he's a suck up for you, so if you want something, it's yours.

So, he'd get rough. He'd go faster than he usually does, maybe put his hand around your neck and squeeze ever so gently. But afterwards, he'd feel awful; like he was hurting you or something.

He'd apologize profusely, say he's never gonna do it again, but does it a few days later. It's like going through the five stages of grief but skipping the first four and consistently being at acceptance

He's a hand holder. Since he's an intimate person, his preferred position is missionary. He likes this position for a few reasons; he gets to see your expression if you're enjoying it or uncomfortable, he gets to kiss you, and he can hold your hand. It's one of his favorite things to do, not only because he finds it much more romantic, but he also loves how you squeeze his hand when you're getting close.

Teasing is one of the things he does best. But verbal teasing, not physical. You can hear him giggle anytime he's inside you, practically taunting you when he knows you're close. He'd say something dumb like, "aw, is princess gonna cum?" And then have a shit eating grin on his face.

Pet names are another thing he uses often. Like I said previously, he'd call you princess, but there's also other names he'd call you during the act. Love, darling, and angel are the ones he uses for you most commonly, aside from princess of course.

I saw someone else say this on here and their hcs were actually what made me want to write (I swear on my SOUL I am NOT trying to copy them 🙏🙏🙏🙏 sorry if it comes off like that) but they said Curly would be buff and I completely agree. He would be HUGE, I'm thinking 6'3-6'5, easily over 220lbs.

The manhandling would go CRAZY, you don't like a position? No issue, he'll just pick you up and put you in a different one. Can't keep your legs open while he's being a munch? As much as he enjoys the feeling of suffocating between your thighs, which believe me, he does, he can't exactly pleasure you if he's unconscious from the lack of airflow. Not a big issue, a firm hand on each leg will do the trick.

Another comment on his body alone to wrap this up; he'd definitely be muscular in his legs and especially his arms. I think his stomach would be toned, not a six pack, but toned. Maybe even a little pudge and a v line 🤭🤭🤭🤭🤭

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A/N: hi guys pls send requests for curly fics plasplsplspslsplsplslsplspls I'm so thirsty for this man oh ky god I'm crynng

[charlesoberonn]

When you were young, your mother used to read you an old fairytale every night before bed.

It was a sad story, about lovers who walked through hell to reunite with one another and almost succeeded, only to be separated again forever in the last moment. It made you cry, and the next night you would beg your mom to read it again.

"You know it'll be sad, right?"

"This time they'll win, mom! This time they'll have a happy ending!"

But they didn't. Nor did they win in the next night, or the night after that.

Deep down, logically, you knew it'll always end the same way. The story is done. It's been told long before you were born. But when mom was telling it, you could pretend that maybe this time it'll work out. This time will be different.

When you grew older you didn't stop pretending, even though you knew it was silly and getting sillier. When you learned to read and write, one of the first things you wrote was a new ending. It was bad, about you as an all-powerful angel coming down to help the lovers reunite and then you get invited to their wedding.

"It's not real, it's fanfic." a friend told you when you showed them. They explained the word, and you saw what they meant. But you didn't care, seeing the words on the page helped you pretend.

You read voraciously as you grew. All kinds of stories with all kinds of ending. But you kept coming back to that one. Reading from your mom's old copy which her read to her from.

You didn't need mom to read to you anymore, but sometimes you asked her to anyway. Occasionally she'd do it, but more often than not she was tired.

Soon she stopped reading. Then she stopped speaking altogether, her voice too weak and throat too sick to speak aloud. That's when you started reading the story to her.

It was hard at first, your tears choking you up. It was hard pretending that the story will end differently.

"The diagnoses are just estimates, probabilities." your dad said. And when he spoke, you could pretend there was a chance. But when the doctors spoke, their words felt as final and unchanging as the old words in the storybook.

Eventually, mom was no more. Your dad read something personal and touching in her funeral. Everyone thought you would, too. Everyone knew how much you loved writing since you were little.

You thought you would write too, imagined it in your mind as your mother's end drew near. You had so much to say, but the words wouldn't come out. The only words that would come to you were from the story. You tried to bat them away, but you knew you couldn't. You couldn't change this ending.

When it came your time to eulogize, you pulled out the book and without preamble started reading from the second-to-last page. This time there was no pretending.

Everyone knew the story, even the people who didn't know mom personally. Everyone knew it will end in tragedy. The lovers will not get a happy ending.

Except this time they did.

You didn't notice the change until you were halfway through the final page, so out of it you were. But the reactions from the mourning crowd clued you in. Your stoic dad choking down a chuckle.

You looked closely at the book and saw the words were written in your mom's neat handwriting.

You kept on reading, a smile on your face.

It wasn't the real ending. It was fanfic.

But just for a little while, seeing the words on the page helped you pretend a little longer.

[kneelingshadowsalome]

FATUM NOS IUNGEBIT 1/4

(König x F!Reader)

Summary: You have seen him in your dreams. The seer has divined his coming. But nothing has prepared you for witnessing him in the flesh. (Historical AU where König fights for the Roman Empire in an auxiliary unit, finds a cute barbarian woman and decides to keep her as his own.) Word count: 5.3 k Tags/warnings: 18+ ONLY. Spoils of war/enemies to lovers trope, graphic depictions of violence, historical gruesomeness, pining, odd banter, mixed feelings, romantic fluff, dubcon cuddling, eventual smut. Captor/captive dynamic. König is a brutal warrior... and a gentle giant. A/N: Lol what now? König dual wields 2 swords, goes Mike Tyson on his enemies, teaches his captive girl constellations in German, cuddles her and feeds her grapes, buuut mainly just tries to get into her pants (which historically did not exist at the time) A bit of a slow burn, but don't worry, they'll bang eventually ^^

AD 90, somewhere in the untamed frontiers of the Roman Empire…

The end of the world is here.

Not only have the crops failed for two years in a row, making chieftains beggars and beggars food for the fish, but now there are rumours that the god of war has arrived to destroy the land. The accursed Romans had turned their eagle gaze back to your land after years of sending their troops elsewhere, making it seem like they were not interested in your distant land after all. Untamed, they called it, harsh and barren and therefore inferior – your lush, abundant, beautiful land. No doubt they spat on it in their war councils because your roads were not paved, because your crops and villages were modest, and the women sometimes fought alongside men. Their storytellers immortalized false tales about you, calling you barbarians, but the only barbarians you could think of were the Romans themselves – crude, filthy and boorish creatures, drowning in wine and shit in their cities.

Rumours started to get fat and distressed when the troops approached your village. They said there was a giant at the head of the army, that the Romans followed a Titan's son who loved to eat men, torture women and impale children. They said he didn't accept proper food but preferred to eat his fallen enemies, washed his weapons with the blood of children, and split captured women apart with his cock, as long and sharp as his sword. They told that the Titan ordered his soldiers to poison the wells and destroy the growing crops with salt and vinegar. The rumours said that his tent was bigger than any chieftain's house and that he still struggled to stand at full height inside it. 

Even the land itself seemed to bow before him. Good weather followed his conquest wherever he went; ambushes failed, scouts got caught and tortured, exposing more villages to pillage and ruin. Your brother told you to flee the village, but how could you survive without your clansmen? You didn't know how to hunt; you barely knew how to fish. Your task in the village was to gather clams from the shore, dye wool and help the old Seer. How long could you survive on sorrels and clams alone?  

. . .

The old woman calls you to see her on the brink of war, and tells you to prepare for a ceremonial offering. Two horses, black as night if possible, brown at the very least, to appease the Great Mother of the Earth and quench her thirst for blood. If the Mother is satisfied with your offering, She will perhaps stop the approaching army or convince the Titan to leave your village alone.

She does a small rite before you, and you need to stay with her through her visions. You hate the smell of the leaves she burns, and try to cover your nose with your tunic to prevent breathing in the bitter fumes. The seer looks like she’s just lying herself down to sleep, but it’s always a burden when the spirits arrive and she starts to talk. You turn your back on her to coax them to rise: a mortal stare annoys the chthonic ones. You nearly fall asleep too as you wait, wanting nothing more than to go back to your own hut and have a good night’s sleep. Perhaps because you’re lousy tonight, and less vigilant as you should be, the spirits arrive sooner than either of you thought.

“He’s strong,” the seer croaks from the earthen bed, and you fight the urge to turn around and peek at the old woman, currently in the clutches of spirits. 

“Invincible… Hungry... The horses…won’t suffice…”

She drifts someplace else, and you try to memorize every word, every intonation, as cryptic or as simple as they are, for later interpretation.

“I see you,” she says in a slightly more cheerful tone, which is odd because the old woman is never happy or satisfied, no matter how bright the sun shines or how much food there is in the storages and pits.

“Me?” You dare to speak even though you’re not allowed to disturb the spirits. You could slap yourself for blurting out a single word, but luckily, the hungry ones don’t attack you for your insolence.

“You.. will be his downfall,” she speaks as if you are having a conversation here. “Be there. When he arrives.”

“...Be there? Why?” You dare to utter again, more concerned about what the Mother implies than the potential fury of some lowly earthen spirits. You haven’t got the faintest clue about what She might be suggesting. Why do you have to participate in the battle? How can you be there without getting killed? You’re not a warrior… The Mother has it all wrong. 

Suddenly, you curse the night, you curse the whole day, knowing your brother’s late proposal was perhaps a warning, a hint from the gods to leave, and leave quickly.

The old woman laughs dryly on the ground - the throaty, outright sick cackle makes you flinch. 

You don’t like this... You don’t like this at all.

“Mother. What must I do?” You demand to know, thinking about how all the gods, spirits, old women, and Titans should go to hell.

“Become a tree,” the old woman offers as if it’s the easiest thing to do. “A flower. Me...”

. . .

You become a marten first, then a bird. Then perhaps a tree.

You climb a spruce and wait there. You wait until the sunrise; you wait until noon. You wait until you see the glint of the Roman spearheads and hear the sound of their march.

You’ve dreamed of the Titan ever since you left the seer’s hut. You’ve dreamed of him slaying everyone in the village; you’ve dreamed of him driving a thick spear into the ground and grabbing you with an intent to raise you into the air and impale you on it. You’ve dreamed of him behind you, above you, inside you. You wake up one morning only to see that half of the people have left. You don’t know where they have gone, and you can’t follow them even if you did because the old woman waits for you in front of her hut and gives you a nod the instant you walk into another beautiful, sunny day.

That’s why you’ve turned into a branch in a tree, but for what purpose, you have no idea. You can’t understand why you must be here to witness the world’s end.

Your men scream and shout and roar as they crash into the thick forest of spears. The enemy is silent: it’s eerie, how the world burns and falls into ruin around you, people are screaming; everyone who has a soul and a heart is screaming for Mother as they die, but the men behind the Roman shields refuse to emit a sound. They don’t curse or shout or summon their gods; they simply stand their ground and pant mist into the air as wave after wave of men break on their shields and die before their feet. Somebody loses his spear because it gets stuck between your clansman’s ribs, but the Roman simply draws his sword in its stead: it’s the only sound among the pitched wails that cut through the forest – the cold, clear ring of a gladius being pulled from its sheath.

That is why you flinch at the sound of the first shout, a brutish command that sends all the shields to the side, only to present more shields: the Romans switch positions in their formation as if they’re not even human beings like the rest of you, just a single enormous creature made of iron and leather and bone, operating it's flat forest of weapons.

And then you see him: the giant of your dreams, the hungry titan everyone has told you about. He rises from the tide of helmets like a summoned god, concealed as one of the soldiers and only now revealing his true nature. He stands at least two heads taller than the rest, pushes his own soldiers to the side and breaks out of the formation these vicious Romans love so much. You knew he would be strong and big, but you didn't know he refused to show his face… You wonder what kind of a monster hides behind the black cloth with nothing but two eye holes ripped on it. As if this man needed the additional effort to stand out from other soldiers...

He's like a God of War, just like the survivors said: his armour is of Roman design, but the amount of metal that had to be scraped together to cover this man's shoulders and chest must've demanded a fortune in gold. He doesn't seem to care about the Roman ways, however: he throws his shield away as soon as he's out of the cumbersome formation as if he has carried it only as a decoration up until this point. He draws another sword in its stead – if any other man did such a stupid thing, traded his shield for a weapon, you would snort. But not now.

Standing between the Romans and your clansmen like a challenge, a threat, a deity, even the men possessed by the seer's blood spells hesitate to approach him. But when they do, the god unleashes carnage: the first warrior gets his stomach slashed open, and the two thick swords look like toothpicks when wielded by this man. A stomach wound is a gruesome, slow way to die - but just before the warrior's entrails spill to dangle between his feet, the brute grants him mercy by sweeping his head off with a single blow of his gladius. 

A roar finally rises from your enemy: they cheer Death on as the head of your neighbour meets the mud next. The soil is already soaked in blood, but the Mother is hungry still. The forest booms with Her bloodlust as the god moves around like a slow tempest of muscle, metal and darkness: he breaks every Roman rule by fighting as his own man instead of demeaning himself as one of them, a lowly part of this odd metal beast before you. He sends a limb flying in the air with a swing of a sword; he uses the same weapon as a bludgeon to bash in someone's skull. He crushes a man's chest simply by sinking down onto one knee, breaking bone, tendon and flesh to splinters as a whole ribcage gets crushed under his massive weight. 

Warriors flee before him, they fall under the combined wrath of the Mother and the Titan's sword. The dead seem to fall eternally, along with your heart, before meeting the ground with a hollow thud. 

Your chieftain is among the last men standing, meeting this unstoppable foe with admirable courage. Not having succumbed to the spells of bloodlust in years, he meets his death as a seasoned but old warrior. With his fighting years behind him, your chief doesn't have a chance against this man, but you have to grant the beast a feather's worth of honour, because he recognizes your chieftain as the veteran he is and salutes him with his sword. Then he proceeds with the bloodbath: flinging your leader's sword and axe easily to the side, he walks straight into his arms like he would into a hug, grabs him by the waist, and raises him into the air like he's nothing but a child. 

Your scream never leaves your lungs as you watch how the Titan raises the draping cloth from his face, just enough to sink his teeth into your beloved chieftain’s neck. The noise that erupts from your elder is not that of a man but a tortured animal. It’s not from this world, what you witness next: the giant tears a hunk of flesh from your chief like he’s a piece of roasted meat. Blood streams forth, his screams fade away all too slowly, and you hear your own weak wail in the air as the Titan lets go of the heap that used to be a strong male and a wise leader. 

Your chieftain is dead; his essence spills to the earth in spurts to appease the God of War, who spits blood and flesh to the ground, making you gag into the cold spring air. 

Then he raises his swords towards the sun, and the forest erupts into a roar with him: the thundering, ear-splitting cheer from his warriors makes the very earth quake beneath your tree. It seems to shake the branches of the forest, and before you know it, the giant’s howl of triumph breaks the one you’re curled around, and you fall, fall, fall into the mud beneath you. 

You're not a tree anymore. No: you’re very much a human woman there in the dirt as the sound of shouting ceases like a distant dream. 

And he turns. 

Death turns.

Mother always said you were a curious creature, which is perhaps why you search for his eyes, even though you should be running. She also said you were a smart one, which is why you know that running is futile. Your limbs wouldn’t carry you far anyway. It is a cruel joke from the gods to have what little strength you have left pour out of you into the ground and up to the feet of the enemy who is already strong, both in body and in will.

The Titan looks at you with genuine wonder, a curiosity that surpasses your own. To your odd thrill, you find that his eyes are blue: the same blue of the sea which you used to collect delicious clams from. 

The soldiers behind him shift with lust – their gear clinks as they devour you with unbridled hunger. The Titan is the only one who looks at you like you’re simply a cute little squirrel who happened to fall from a tree right there at his feet. Then his eyes drop to your breasts, and the familiar hunger that lives in men gives the ocean of his eyes a clouded look. When his stare finds yours again, he's a different man: the treacherous beast of your dreams.

You had hoped for a swift death… Violent but quick. But it’s clear that it’s not death he has in store for you as he takes a step towards you. It’s not a quick nor a slow death; it’s not death at all, because–

No.

No.

You’d rather have your arms torn off and fed to the Romans rather than have him thrust the sword between his legs, his third weapon, inside you. If you’re going to die screaming, it will not happen on your back; you will not amuse this beast with your womanhood and tears.

You scramble forward to pick up something, anything: a bronze dirk from a fallen warrior. The giant’s eyes fall on the sad excuse of a weapon, then on the sorry excuse of you. He thinks you’re planning to fight him with that thing, and the corners of his eyes crease a little from the prospect of having to subdue you. You’re proving to be quite the entertainment, and you curse those eyes, looking so kind and lively when just moments ago, the same eyes were inhuman and possessed. His are the eyes of a wayfarer, a wanderer, not a soldier: you catch a hint of sadness in them and curse again.

He’s not human, you remind yourself and show him what actual humans are made of. What women are made of. You give him another name, Giant, because you’ve always feared giants and hated the stories about them. Dumb and reckless creatures they are, stupid destroyers who always place their trust in their size. You never meant to fight him, and he only catches up on it as you turn the dagger towards yourself and guide it to point straight at your heart. 

You will be his downfall, just like the seer said.

“Nein–Warte,” the Giant speaks his first words, surprisingly soft to belong to a man like him. 

The sorrow in his stare consumes you in full now. It gushes forth like a tide, causing your breath and hands to shake when they need to be stern. You straighten your spine, jut your chin forward, and call for Mother: you don’t even know if you’re yelling for your bearer, or the Great Mother, or the earth that gives life to all. Perhaps you call them all to gather around and witness your sacrifice, higher in price than any of the Titan’s offerings combined. The blood you’re about to spill onto the soil will surely appease the land and raise it to arms to finally fight against this beast. 

He says something else just before you pull the blade back to strike it into your chest, and you curse for the third time in your mind: giants aren’t supposed to move that fast; they aren’t supposed to interfere in your last ritual. 

But the worst of it is that even when he finally subdues you, even as he wrestles the blade away from you, he ends up drawing a large gash on his forearm… As if he is trying his best to protect you from accidentally cutting yourself.

. . . 

You are brought to his tent, screaming. 

It’s not as big as a chieftain’s house; it’s barely the size of yours. But it is larger than the tents you saw when you got carried there: as a spitting, screeching, hissing package of what these brutes would no doubt consider a true barbarian woman with uncivilized manners and a fuckable cunt. They will talk about you around their campfires tonight: about you getting broken in by their true commander. It’s enough to satisfy them for now: to imagine their champion to fuck you bloody and sore. And who knows: perhaps they’ll receive the scraps if the Titan gets tired of you.

The precious dagger is somewhere in the mud, probably trampled there like it’s nothing but a piece of worthless metal. Your own trampling is only about to begin as the Giant marches into his abode and sends the men away, giving you uneasy looks in the process, perhaps checking if any of them had enough time to have a go at you. Luckily for him, you’re in the same condition as he left you: legs together, safe and pretty, because he bound them with a rope along with your hands. You are nothing but a delivery, thrown on the floor of dirt and a few animal skins. He just nods at you, happy to acknowledge that you are untouched by the others, as if it would somehow be worse for you to be raped by ten of those petite men than be raped by him: a cruel, bloodthirsty Giant with a giant cock. 

Your ankles and wrists get sore as you watch him doff his armour. He takes off the helmet, the belted straps, the segmented plates of his shoulder guards and the heavy Roman cuirass. The gods have truly favoured this man, not only gifting him tremendous height but insurmountable strength too. His muscles are large and lean and quiver with latent power as he moves; his back is so broad it almost competes with the wide mouth of the tent. He doesn’t seem to suffer from the cold either, but he keeps his mask on for whatever ghastly reason. Even if there is a monster under that mask, his body speaks of virility: he’s a man in his prime, a giant at his strongest, making you feel like an elf, a tiny little creature in the feet of this man who must be descended from titans indeed.

You continue to watch as he washes his hands in a small basin, cleans his mouth and neck, too. You reckon the water in that bowl is blood red and dark when he finally dries himself with a white cloth. He stands before you in nothing but his mask and the dark red tunic he had under the armour. He ties it from the waist with a simple leather belt, and it only now makes sense to you why Roman soldiers dye their clothes red: you’re pretty sure you can still see the darker spots on the hem of that tunic, the ones that used to be the lifeblood of your clansmen and kin.

He has the audacity to ask you - wordlessly - to clean his wound, the one you caused him. He sets you free from your bounds, and you are given fresh water and another cloth. He even opens a smallish wooden box of salve that has a familiar smell to it: pine tar and honey, used by your people to treat minor wounds and prevent bad spirits from getting into the wound. You wonder how he even knows about such a balm: is this warrior a Roman at all, or is he some odd creature hauled from the edges of the world to fight for them? You wonder if he has made the salve himself, extracted the tar from the pine and foraged the wax and honey himself, then cursed with his coarse language when he got stung by multiple bees…

You drive away the thoughts that threaten to make this brute human by snorting at his injury. The damage he gave to himself when he tried to guide the blade away from you at the price of his own blood. 

It still troubles you that he did it. Even a tiny wound like this can bring any man down if it starts to fester. The cold winds and rains of spring can easily get into the gash and make it rot. 

The idea of this giant being forced to his knees because of some filthy dagger wielded by a squirrel of a woman makes you smile inside. It would be a fitting fate for this man. But the vision also makes your heart sting. The thought of him dying of a simple flesh wound, alone and far away from his home, makes your heart grow kinder than it should. 

You decide there is nothing you can do but treat his arm, strong and scarred from previous battles. He sits down while you get to stay on the ground, and you try to ignore it that your face is now level with his groin. He sits with a wide spread in those powerful thighs, and you wonder if it's because the rumours about his cock are true. You keep your eyes everywhere else except the hem of that tunic and what's going on under there. He purrs at your touch, making it clear that it doesn't need much more than your soft fingertips to get him hard after a triumphant day on the field of battle. 

The wound is not deep, but you clean it carefully, trying to ignore the way his eyes seem to bore into you as you take care of him. Your hand is somewhat steady as you treat the damage with the nice-smelling salve, but you flinch as his hand suddenly meets your cheek. You look up at him, heart plummeting, thighs instinctively pressing together from the gentle way with which he cups your face.

“Schön,” he says, again with a tender voice and an adoring, almost worshipful stare. You don’t have a clue what he’s saying, but you know now for sure that it's not the tongue of the Romans he speaks. The scent of pines and bees lingers between you as he brushes a thumb over your lower lip. You are weak enough to give him a breath, a helpless, hot little exhale that meets his hand like a gift.

“Schön wie eine Fee,” he rumbles, sounding intoxicated or like he's under a spell of sleep.

“What the hell are you saying,” you whisper in your own tongue: just a meek little sputter, a tiny, horrified breath, but the giant’s eyes narrow with a smile.

“Sie redet,” he says happily, and your shoulders sink – you are on the verge of screaming from frustration alone. Whatever you do seems to only amuse this man, and you snap your mouth shut. Your cheeks heat up with recurring waves of odd fever. The ground beneath your shins is all but warm, and yet you feel warm all over: a dangerous sign, you know, and oddly tied to the peculiar bodings you have seen all week.

Because there have been many omens in the air lately. 

It’s just that none of them were portents of war. 

The cranes started to mate early this year, and you have found a lot of clams from the shore every day. Even your brother encountered a boar with nine piglets; everyone celebrated him as some holy man who had seen the Great Mother when he returned to the village that day. The wind started to blow from south soon after, and the moon has grown along with your womb: this morning, on the brink of war, you woke up wet and restless. 

All the omens speak of fertility, of growth, of a new cycle and of birth: of spring and life. There’s nothing about death and decay, nothing except what the people have told you about… him. The death himself. The war god.

“König,” he says as if he can hear your thoughts and wishes to correct them. You look up and see he’s pointing to himself, or rather, holding his hand over his heart. You fight the urge to scoff at the gesture. As if this beast had a heart…

“König,” he repeats the word and pats his chest, and you realize he’s trying to tell you his name. You wrinkle your nose in distaste, and he smiles. It’s easy to tell when he does, even with the cloth that covers his face: you can see the joy clearly from his eyes, the boyish grin that must be occurring under that mask.

“Du?” He points at you next, inquisitive. He has an odd way of pointing: with two fingers, slightly crooked, and you understand very well what he’s asking of you. You refuse to tell him your name, however, settling for pouting a lip at him next. The smile in his eyes only deepens.

“Fee,” he pokes you gently on the shoulder and leans back in his odd Roman chair, seemingly content with having now named you. 

And Mother was right: you are curious, so incredibly curious to know what this beast has chosen to call you and why. Are you a rat to him…? Some bird? Perhaps simply a girl?

He is so pleased with your conversation that he pours himself some wine and drinks the whole cup with one gulp. Great, you sigh inside your head, a beast and a drunkard. He pours another cup and tries to offer it to you, and when you don’t make a move to grab the clay mug, he brings it to your lips. You entertain him with a tiny sip: you’ve heard of wine and know that Romans are fond of it, but you have never tasted it yourself. 

The tart, bitter flavour almost makes you cough. You thought wine was supposed to be sweet: everyone always describes it as something like milk or honey or juice from an overripe apple. It very much is not, and you almost choke on it and then make a wry face at your captor. He - König - only laughs. It’s another thing that catches you off guard: first those boyish, sad eyes and now this hearty, grown man’s laugh. You have proved to be such an amusement to him that he doesn’t force you to drink any more wine and enjoys the rest of it himself. 

Then he rises and makes you shrink from him again, towers above you for a moment, and looks at you with that warm curiosity that makes your heart race.

“Müde?” 

He tilts his head, the bag of darkness shifts, the blue eyes behold you fondly, and for some reason, you whimper an answer to yet another question you can’t even understand. He takes your little squeak as a yes and falls to crouch before you, then raises a massive hand to the leather strings that keep your demure little dress up. 

To your horror, he pulls the knotted tangle open before you can stop him. Your dress falls from your shoulders and drops to pool around you, and you simply and verily stop breathing.

His eyes wash over you, he examines every little part of exposed skin like an entire treasure chest has suddenly opened before him. You pray to all the gods that he would find it in his heart to be gentle tonight. Your nipples perk up – from the cold or from his stare, you don’t know. 

The rough callous of his palm meets your breast and encloses it in warm support. He cups you, weighs you like he would a fruit, and then he squeezes you, rather hard, too: a deliberate attempt to make you squeal again. He replies to your pathetic mewl with an approving rumble, and you look up at him with all the helpless tenderness of the Mother, hoping that Her gentle pleas might persuade this man not to hurt you.

“Please don’t,” you whisper, and his eyes dart to your mouth, to your eyes, then back to your lips again. He immediately softens his touch. Then he lifts you from inside your poor dress, picks you up like you weigh nothing at all, and carries you to his broad bed, the sturdiest you have ever seen. 

This man feels like the strangest of fates, like a hopeless destiny, as he sets you on the skins and straw mattress, right next to your fluttering heart. Your insides ache as he undresses before you, entirely without shame. He’s hard under the tunic he rips off and tosses on the cold ground. Your eyes are glued to the legendary cock you’ve heard so much about, the cock that splits women apart: and it’s true that it's huge. It resembles the ones you’ve seen on horses, not on men, and your thighs are glued together as he comes next to you while that pale, monstrous cock sways long and heavy between his thighs. He moves you around a little, and you squeal from how weak you feel: weak as a mouse as he covers you with one of those rich furs he has in plenty on the bed. Then crawls under it too, right next to you.

Your heart almost wrenches itself out of your chest as a strong arm pulls you against him: the swell of your ass meets his thighs, solid and broad like treetrunks, and your lower back meets the hot, almost too hot horse cock. It starts to leak and throb against your skin the instant your flesh is pressed against his. You try not to whimper and moan as the Giant, König, curls around you like you two have always done this.

He takes a long, earnest inhale from your neck and hair, rumbles deeply and contently, and tightens his grip. Apparently, you smell and feel good… 

You wait and wait to be plundered and raped, but König only settles for holding you tightly, like you’re a children’s toy made of the softest straw and purest undyed wool. You relax slowly, and he purrs against your back, starts to fondle your breasts, ardently, until your body betrays you and you find yourself wet again; he squeezes and squishes your teats slowly, approvingly, then pinches your nipple once before finally falling into a heavy, deep sleep.

…

Please forgive your author for any historical inaccuracies and other silly things you find facepalmable <3 During this time König would've probably spoken some form of Old Saxon but since I'm not a TOLKIEN we have to settle for modern-day German here. I don't have a taglist for this fic so please check my pinned masterlist for future updates.

Translations

Nein, warte - No, wait

Schön - Beautiful 

Schön wie eine Fee - Beautiful as a fairy

Sie redet - She talks

Du? - You?

Müde? - Tired?

[yandere-daydreams]

How do you think divorcing any jjk man or genshin character would go? Like straight up just leaving them cold when you had the chance.

tw - non/con, controlling relationships, abusive themes.

hmmmm i've never actually written a divorce fic have i. anyway we're going jjk with this because i've thought long and hard and come up with neat and concise categories that encompass all of their freak needs.

some less controlling men, like gojo and nanami, might let you go through with it, less because they understand why you want to leave them and more because they don't fully believe you ever would. you're their soulmate, the love of their life, the light of their existence, and even if you're a little angry now, you'll come to your senses eventually. sure, they'll talk to your little attorney and go to your little court dates, but the moment you actually start to physically remove yourself from their vicinity, try to strip them of the parts of yourself that they've already taken ownership of, they'll put a stop to your temper tantrum with a few more locks on the front door and a long night or reminding you why you got married in the first place, followed immediately by burning those silly papers you brought home and sliding the ring that you tried to return back onto your finger, where it belongs. they'll let you have your fun, sure, but at the end of the day, they're your husband, and they'll remind you as many times as they have to until it sticks.

others, like geto and yuuta, never present divorce as an option. geto's a special case - if you got married legally, then there's a very, very good chance that he's got you locked away too tightly to so much as see a courthouse, let alone step inside of one long enough to file for something as time-consuming as divorce. if you ever get away from him, you should be fleeing the country, not hiring an attorny. you know better than to waste your time on something so petty.

as for yuuta, there's only a small chance you consented to marriage in the first place. it's much more likely that you simply woke up with a ring stitched surgically onto your finger and a strange man calling himself your husband in your bed, and 'divorce' just isn't a word in his vocabulary. he's going to be your husband until the day he dies, and no scrap of paper you might show him is going to change that.

and others still, like toji, are going to panic. you can't leave him. i mean, you can - it's not like he's around often enough to stop you - but you can't leave him. you can say that you're sick of him crashing on your couch, that you don't like how often he comes home covered in blood, that you concerned about the well-being of his kids, but that doesn't mean you have to start yelling about ""restraining orders"" and ""calling cps"". you two are good together, and he's sure you'll see that after he gives you a good reason to stay with him - namely, a broken leg and his cock shoved deep enough inside of you to push every other thought out of your mind. you're lucky he loves you so much. if you're lucky, he'll even recite his vows as he fucks the concept of divorce out of your head entirely <3

[formulawolff]

"you belong here" - s.v.

pairing: gf!reader x aston martin!sebastian vettel

word count: 1.5k

warnings: (slight) age gap relationship, a little bit of cursing here and there, seb being absolutely down bad for the reader, some (slight) angst, the general public being judgmental, (slight) slut shaming, the drivers being little shits (as always), yadayadayada

a/n: i am a perfectionist when it comes to writing personalities, mannerisms, cadences of words, etc. so if i happened to not do the best job with this fic, please be patient with me!!! this is my first time writing for seb!!! i am open to feedback!!! <3

"okay, from the top. how many drivers are there?"

"twenty."

"nope!" he shakes his head, his lips curling into a smug smirk, "there are nineteen drivers. sorry love, but you were incorrect."

"sebastian," you scoff, rolling your eyes, "you needed to specify if you were included. because if you weren't included, there would be nineteen other drivers. if you were, there would be twenty."

"that's why it's called a trick question," his hand squeezes yours, "your hands are clammy, by the way."

"maybe because i'm nervous?" you counter, "this is my first time tagging along to a grand prix, you know."

"i know," he brings your hand to his mouth, kissing it tenderly, "i'm sorry for being a little pest."

"you're not a pest," your heart swells at the gesture, "i'm just anxious to meet everyone, that's all."

"oh they'll love you," confidence oozes out of his words, "i have no doubts about that."

sebastian vettel, four time world drivers' champion, was your boyfriend of the last year or so. the two of you met online, as you had slid into his dms on instagram after a very intoxicated evening out with friends.

since you had a love for formula one since you were a teenager, you admired drivers such as lewis hamilton, nico rosberg, daniel ricciardo, and well, sebastian.

you weren't quite sure where the love for the sport came from, but you could remember the sleepless nights you spent on youtube, eagerly clicking through racing highlights through various grand prixes. the sleepovers where your friends would be doing makeovers on you or painting your nails as you chattered about all of the driver drama and lore.

so, when you learned that mr. vettel was very single, and very open to the world of dating, you decided to shoot your shot. it took about six or seven drinks, but you mustered the courage to type out those fateful words.

i heard your single. we should change that.

shockingly, you received a response not too long after sending the message.

i believe it's *you're and not your. why should i take you up on your offer? you're a very beautiful woman but i need a little more information before i take you out on a date. ;)

from that message, the two of you chatted constantly, getting to know one another in-between shifts at your job, and his free time between races, press conferences, and training sessions.

eventually, he asked for your number, requesting a facetime call. you obliged, the two of you talking for hours upon hours that night. only a week or so later, he flew you out to his place in switzerland, requesting that you spend the weekend with him.

you did, falling for him the moment you met him in person. well, not like it was difficult by any means. with his charming aura and goofy persona, you felt comfortable almost immediately, letting your walls come crashing down.

nothing was too much or too out-of-pocket. you could make all of the vulgar jokes you wished, and he would laugh right along, only escalating the joke further. you could cry on his shoulder about anything, and he would happily rub your back, wiping away the tears that fell. he would hold you every night you slept together, not letting go until you wriggled away in the mornings.

and now, here you were, hand-in-hand as you entered the paddock. your heart skips a beat as your gaze falls on lance stroll, sebastian's fellow driver and teammate.

upon seeing you, his mouth curves into a bright smile, "look who it is!"

"i know you're not that excited to see me," sebastian pouts, "or did you really miss me that much?"

lance rolls his eyes at sebastian, sticking out his right hand, "good morning! i'm lance. i'm the other aston martin driver. well, you probably already know that."

"it's nice to meet you," you suppress a giggle, "i've heard a lot about you!"

"oh have you?" lance arches a brow, turning to sebastian, "have you been talking shit?"

"always pooks," sebastian chuckles, "not really. i just happen to talk a lot about racing. i'm sure she's tired of it by now."

"oh never," you flash sebastian a radiant grin, "i never get tired of all of the racing talk. i've loved formula one since i was about thirteen or so."

"that's awesome!" lance gushes, "you have yourself a keeper then, seb."

"i know i do," you feel his arm wrap around your shoulder, "should we go meet some fans? i promise they won't bite."

"fans?" you echo, a shiver running down your spine.

"well yeah," lance nods, "we have some time before we need to meet up with everyone. we usually chat with some fans, hand out some autographs. nothing too serious or glamorous."

"if you say so," you mumble, the words so quiet you were shocked you heard them.

it wasn't like you were dreading interacting with fans, it was just that you were a bit daunted by the idea.

ever since sebastian went public with you about a month ago, the reaction from the public was mixed. one half was adamant that you were too young for the driver, as there was an almost fifteen year age gap between the two of you. the plethora of negative comments that flooded the comment section of your instagram posts was almost too much to bear.

the other half, however, was very supportive, voicing that they "shipped" the two of you or that you were good for the driver. some comments even went as far to say that you were "a breath of fresh air", and that sebastian needed someone like you in his life.

yet, as the three of you stroll out of the paddock, you hoped for the latter. that the fans would be kind, welcoming you with open arms.

you could only dream, right?

"sebastian!"

"sebastian over here!"

voices flurry about, calling from all directions. everywhere all around, it was almost a sea of green, fans donning aston martin gear from head to toe. people of all ages flooded your field of vision, children hoisted on their parents shoulders to men and women in their seventies, maybe even their eighties.

"baby, can i see your purse?" his breath fans against your ear, snapping out of your trance.

"yeah," you nod, fumbling with your bag, "y-you need your sharpie, right?"

"hey," fingers find yours, intertwining them together, "it's just you and i. forget everyone else. just think about you and i."

"it's hard to-" you protest, yet you're swiftly cut off by a voice rising above the midst of the crowd.

"who invited the slut?"

sebastian's brows furrow, his eyes narrowing into slits, "what the fuck?"

more voices cut in, jeering.

"put her back in her crib! where she belongs!"

"you heard what i said! who invited that slut beside you?"

"goddamn," lance mutters under his breath, "what the fuck are they on right now?"

tears well up, threatening to spill over as you duck your head, lower lip trembling. sebastian senses your energy shift, wrapping a protective arm around your waist. he pulls you in close, pressing gentle kisses along your temple.

"come on, let's go back to the paddock. you don't deserve this."

lance flashes you a sympathetic glance before raising a hand, giving the crowd the finger, "whoever said that, this is for you!"

every aspect of the walk back is blurred as the tears fall. your lips are sealed tightly shut, suppressing the sobs rising in your chest.

you were barely here an hour and fans were already heckling you.

could you even last the weekend here?

did you even belong here?

"hey," his voice is soft, "come here."

blinking, you realize that he had taken you back to his motorhome, a private space for just the two of you. his arms are open, inviting you in. you nearly collapse into his chest, burying your head in it as he rubs your back.

"i'm so sorry."

"you don't have to be sorry," you shrug, swallowing the lump in your throat, "they're right. i don't belong here."

"stop that," fingers grasp your chin, tilting your head up, "you do belong here. you belong here just as much as anyone else does. i need you here."

"you promise?"

"i promise baby," sebastian tucks a few wisps of hair behind your ear, "you're irreplaceable. who cares what they think? just focus on me. it's just you and i this weekend, okay?"

"okay," you nod, sniffling slightly.

"you know what i think?" he leans in, the tip of his nose brushing against yours.

"what?" you inquire, the tears dissipating as he brings you in closer.

"they're just jealous that i have the most breathtaking, stunning, kindest, funniest girlfriend in the whole wide world. and no one, i mean no one, can take that away from me. you're mine baby. and nothing is ever going to change that."

you find yourself nearly crumbling into his chest once again, "you mean that?"

"of course i do. now, let's go try this again. if anyone is rude or hateful, i'll just spit on them, okay?"

[stubz]

Injuries and a ship invasion, no one dies

"Why do they let humans take care of our younglings? If it hadn't been for the coalition then it would've been another century till they realize our existence. Their senses have dulled to the point where its laughable that they are the dominating species of their planet. And lets not forget the fact that they're at constant war with each other over the most stupidest things, color of skin, where one lives, who they love, what they believe, etc."

"Calis stop it! Your being a xenophobe. And while some of that is true you should know by now that the humans care deeply for our children."

"I am simply being concerned parent who worries for their young's safety and well-being...we are in a dangerous area right now, the middle of a war zone, and it would make me feel safer if we had some others at the care centre till reinforcements arrive."

"Trust me my brightest, the humans will do everything they can to ensure the safety of our Dali...and knowing them they'll likely surprise you and live up to their reputation."

"...fine, fine, I apologize, you are right. The humans have surprised me so far, what's one more?"

.

..

...

....

"WHERE IS DALI?! WHERE IS MY YOUNGLING CAPTAIN!"

"Calis calm down! Your arm!"

"NO! YOU DON'T GET TO TELL ME TO CALM DOWN WHEN ENEMY FORCES HAVE INVADED OUR SHIP AND NONE OF US CAN FIND OUR YOUNG!!"

"Calis, your hurt and so is your partner. Think of Gala, they need you right now."

"...Gala is hurt because they were looking for Dali. They got shot because they were heading to the centre...I have to find Dali. For Gala, Captain."

"I'm sure that Kim and Max are doing everything they can to keep them safe."

"With all do respect Captain, how could 2 unarmed humans survive what our force couldn't."

"...I don't know but its probably going to be one hell of a story we'll be telling for the ages. Now go get your arm treated. That's an order."

.

..

...

....

"WE FOUND THEM!"

"CAPTAIN WE FOUND THE YOUNGLINGS!"

"WE NEED A CRANK AND SEND EVERY AVAILABLE MEDIC!"

"oh great stars please no...nonononono DALI!" the Delzah rushed forward, breaking through the search party, only to be stopped by their captain.

"Calis...you have to let them do their job. We, we just have to hope." he could not help the hitch in his breath. Hoping, praying, that his own child was okay underneath the wreckage that was once the youngling care centre.

They fight and thrash until eventually grief overtakes them. They collapse into the captain's arms wailing.

"...what hope do I have that my child is alive under all that rubble. Captain...the only hope I have is that they died quick and that they are with the stars now..."

"Oh Calis..." he sobs. He knows it. There was hardly a chance that anyone was still alive underneath there. Only the strongest younglings who were from a strong species may survive and his child was not one of those few. They were strong but his child was like him...a runt, the joke of the family. Too small, too weak, too soft. She was surely dead...why couldn't it have been him?

"MAPA!"

"PAPA!"

One by one, children emerge from an opening made in the rubble, and at the front of them was Dali and a small feline like child.

"my glorious star" flinging themself from the Captain Calis dragged themself to meet Dali who leaped into their Mapa's arms.

The captain was not too far behind, running to his daughter and cradling her close. Words were not exchanged but Calis could feel the vibrations coming from their purrs.

"See...I told you they would be waiting..."

last to emerge from the rubble was the humans, carried out on stretchers. Only one was conscious. Glass glittered from their skin, dirt and dust blended with vibrant red blood, staining their white bandages, and a rebar was poking out of the unconscious one's side.

"You...got everyone right?"

"Yes, human Max."

"Good...that's good..." and finally did they lose consciousness.

.

..

...

....

"Apparently they covered the windows and hid the kids in the storage room, putting them to the farthest corner while they formed a human wall in front of the door.

When those quiznaking bastards couldn't break down the door they rigged the centre with explosives. Lucky for us the humans personally requested that the storage room be made durable for the equivalent of their disasters on earth so it held up decently well."

"But how did they get so injured?"

"Decently well, meaning the room wasn't completely stable. Eventually the walls started to give and the humans had to improvise by becoming the new pillars. They took shifts until they both had to hold up the weight for what the kids guess to be 3 hours...imagine holding up all of that weight until you were on your hands and knees with rebars, broken glass, and debris piercing into your body."

"...Gala said that Human Max nearly flatlined and Human Kim needed 2 liters of blood."

"You seem confused."

"...Humans are impressive but how did they do all of that? They were already injured and yet managed to hold up a collapsed ceiling for hours until help arrived, I thought they were completely average and even weaker than us."

"Apparently when their loved ones, especially children, are in danger they tap into their more primal instincts. Allowing them to withstand a shot to the side, a slab of concrete to the head, and hours of keeping a ceiling from collapsing until they know everyone is safe.

Heard a story of a human who died only after he saw his kids was safe from a fire."

"Looks like Gala was right. Humans have surprised me once again."

[buddierecs]

fake dating buddie fics

all explicit rating - 18+ only!!!!!! make sure to kudos/comment on these amazing works :)

to build a home we deconstruct our rituals by: letmetellyouaboutmyfeels "after the shooting, eddie realizes he needs to put some things in place. like who will get his assets if he dies. who will speak for him if he ends up in a coma. what might happen if his family contests buck's guardianship. luckily, he's got a simple easy-peasy solution that won't result in insanity, catastrophe, or heartbreak: marry buck." word count: 44k important tags: fake marriage, slow burn, mutual pining, friends to lovers, fluff, angst, eventual smut meet me in the middle (underneath a little bit of mistletoe) by: princessfbi "buck and eddie agree to fake date each other to get through dinner with their parents during the holidays!" word count: 40k important tags: mutual pining, idiots in love, angst, fluff, protective!buddie, jealous!evan buckley, slow burn, smut what do i say (to make me exist?) by: cuddlyobrien "buck gets hurt at chim & maddie’s wedding, earning some temporary amnesia and thinks he was marrying eddie. the doctor advises they let him believe it. eddie is stressed from day one" word count: 27k important tags: temporary amnesia, mutual pining, season 6, anal sex, blow jobs, riding you became my world by: monstrous_moonshine "buck needs help; to get his inheritance money he has to be married. eddie offers to help, because that’s what best friends do, right? he can pretend he’s not woefully in love with buck, surely?" word count: 30k important tags: boys in love, kissing, oblivious!buddie, hurt!evan buckley, first time, hand jobs, anal sex, rimming, top!evan buckley, bottom!eddie diaz breathe out now and we fall back in by: withoutthetiger "set during the summer after 5b, buck and eddie are complete idiots (affectionate) while they pretend to be in love and then realize they haven't been pretending at all. It's just a lot of fake dating, written for the prompt "you could never hurt me." word count: 32k important tags: friends to lovers, soft!buddie, first dates, sexual tension, light angst, mutual pining, anal sex, blow jobs, hand jobs raise her with me by: jayjay__884 "buck realizes that it takes a village to raise a child when a baby girl is left on his doorstep. left with a note that tells him she's his, buck tries to do the right thing and step up to the role that was given to him, finding himself responsible for taking care of an entire human being who is depending on him. and with eddie's help, who is on his own journey of healing and self-acceptance, they both learn about the readymade family they've always had as they end up co-parenting their children together and becoming something more." word count: 222k important tags: kid fic, relationship of convenience, friends to lovers, slow burn, mutual pining, co-parenting, eventual smut i can see it in your eyes (do you mean it?) by: smilingbuckley "eddie hears that his cousin is getting engaged. not wanting to get set up by multiple family members on awkward dates so he can bring someone to the wedding, he and buck plan to fake date. they put a lot of thought into it, getting comfortable with pda, going on fake dates, even practicing kissing once... and then it's finally time to travel to el paso. but faking it is hard when he's not really faking it at all." word count: 29k important tags: idiots in love, weddings, pre-relationship, mutual pining, slow burn, sharing a bed, eventual smut, top!evan buckley, bottom!eddie diaz a thousand words (and then some) by: tawaifeddiediaz when buck and eddie get roped into a photoshoot for the friend of a friend, neither of them expect what they'll have to do. or what it'll cost for their relationship. or, the photoshoot fic that got a little angsty, then a little sexy. word count: 25k important tags: pre-relationship, photoshoots, idiots in love, light angst, soft!buddie, emotional hurt/comfort, fluff, mutual pining, explicit sexual content

[leahsgf]

LIFESAVER - leah williamson

leah williamson x child!reader | based on this request!

leah sighed as she awoke to the sound of your cries ringing through the baby monitor for what felt like the tenth time that night, wincing even more when she checked the time - it of course being only five minutes before her alarm was due to go off, only her luck.

you were usually a pretty good sleeper, and rarely cried in general, never mind throughout the night - so she had known almost instantly the first time you had awoken that you were feeling under the weather, and her worries had only proven right as the night had gone on and your state had worsened.

and again, as if it was part of a well planned routine, your cries only intensified when she eventually padded across the hallway and pushed open the door to your room, your little arms immediately throwing themselves up towards her, desperately in search of any form of comfort.

she bent down and scooped you out of your crib, cradling you in her arms in an instant, never one to deny you her embrace.

“i’m here sweetheart, i’ve got you. what’s the matter hm? can you tell mama?” she soothed for what felt like the hundredth time, running her hand through your bed head, voice so gentle that no outsider would believe it was the same stoic england captain they were so used to if they witnessed it.

you simply whined, more tears angrily slipping down your noticeably red cheeks as you buried your face into her neck, whimpering - her feeling warmth radiating off of you like a heater.

she had picked up on your temperature over the night and had kept an eye on it, and whilst it had definitely now started to come back down, she could tell that you still weren’t feeling great. she could guess based on how sniffly your cries had become, paired with the level of sick you'd been over the course of the night - that you’d picked up the latest nasty bug, most likely from your nursery, despite you only going there once or twice a week.

the nursery that you now wouldn’t be able to attend for the next forty eight hours whilst your mother went to training.

usually, leah wouldn't even hesitate to call jonas and let him know that she wouldn't be able to make it to training - you were her number one priority always, but of course, the one day you get ill happens to be the one day of the season that leah can't miss, or arrange for somebody to look after you at home.

meaning she'd have to bring you with her.

“okay my bubba. we’re gonna make you all better in no time, kay? you're gonna be my little helper for the day and come to work with me, and see all your aunties! they'll be so excited to see you.” she chatted away to you as she made her way down to the kitchen - prepping your morning bottle and fetching you some 'magic' medicine, whilst bouncing you gently in her arms.

you settled finally as you drank, clutching onto the bottle for dear life as leah stroked your forehead, it’s temperature finally going down to somewhat normal as the medicine started to kick in, your tiredness following, and catching up to you.

you were almost fast asleep as she bathed and changed you into some fresh, non sicky clothes, texting the arsenal group chat as a pre warning of your previously unexpected arrival.

she was grateful to say the least when she looked in her mirror to see you still knocked out in your car seat as she drove to the training ground - hoping that you finally getting some rest in meant that you were on the up, and that you'd wake up feeling better again.

“come on then my girl, let’s go see everyone then shall we” she whispered, pressing a kiss to your head as she unbuckled and lifted your sleeping frame into her arms, slipping your dummy into your mouth and grabbing your blanket, before grabbing both of your bags and heading inside.

-

“there’s my favourite girl!” an unmistakable irish voice boomed down the corridor from behind the pair of you, leah wincing as you stirred ever so slightly - not wanting to deal with another repeat of this morning.

thankfully, no such thing happened - katie getting the hint after a single look from the blonde, and a slap on the arm from caitlin.

“shit, sorry! do you want us to take her whilst you go and speak to jonas and kim about the plan for the day? they said it won't take long today” katie whispered, already reaching out for you before she had an answer.

“you’re a lifesaver, thank you! i'll be as quick as i can - if she does wake up there’s anything she’ll need in her bag, but she should hopefully be out for a while.” leah gently transferred you into katie’s waiting arms, a now well practiced routine with the team whenever they wanted baby cuddles and you were sleeping, and passed the aussie beside her your bag.

-

by the time you woke again, nearly four hours had passed - and you had been in pretty much everyone in the building's arms at some point or another as the team took turns doing drills.

your auntie viv was the lucky one this time, your eyes fluttering open slowly as she swayed with you wrapped up in her hold, humming a dutch lullaby. she was easily one of your favourite people, and had been for as long as you could remember, having cried in everybody else's arms apart from hers, the most awkward and freaked out person over holding a baby in the room, when you were a couple of weeks old.

"vivi" you mumbled, voice muffled by both your dummy and the sleep as you glanced up at her, playing with her fingers ever so softly.

"hi tiny, you feeling any better?" she asked, knowing that you probably had no idea what she was asking you, and that the fact you weren't crying was probably the best answer she was going to get.

you had perked up massively, some colour finally returning to your cheeks as your sleep clearly fought off whatever nastiness you had been feeling earlier on.

you babbled incoherently and pointed towards where alessia, katie and steph were chatting - another sign that you were definitely feeling a little bit more like yourself, wanting to be involved in what everyone was doing again.

the dutch woman placed you down on the floor as you wriggled and attempted to get down yourself, chuckling and following after you as you determinedly toddled over to the trio.

katie was the first to notice you and scoop you up, pretending that you were a rocket ship, making you squeal with laughter before steph had reminded her to be gentle with you. she only tickled you softly in response before placing you back down and letting you kick a ball to her and alessia, as steph rummaged through your backpack for a top up of medicine and a snack for you - knowing that you'd likely be starving.

the australian had very nearly been met with a complete meltdown when you'd spotted the medicine, it only being resolved because you saw lia stopping to get a snack and take her own medicine for her leg, letting you go and happily sit with her, thinking you were as cool as your auntie lia as steph popped the syringe of pink liquid into your mouth.

-

leah had been checking in on how you were doing every half an hour or so, and she had never been happier to see you run towards her when she caught your eye.

"hi my baby! how are you feeling?" she cooed, granting your wish to be in her arms immediately and fussing over you whilst thanking all of the girls for their help.

“she’s been good, slept like a champ and just had some more medicine - think she’s officially on the mend.” steph answered, grinning at you and playing with your hair as leah pressed kisses to your cheek.

you clapped your hands and cheered, not understanding the words but loving the attention that was on you - and how the horrible ache in your body had started to fade.

“alright then! we’re all done for the day so we’re gonna head off for some much needed rest - thank you girls for all of your help with this one. say bye to your aunties then bubba.” leah collected all of your stuff and waved goodbye - you copying her almost identically, as expected.

“bye bye.” you said as clearly as your dummy would allow, waving again at each of the girls individually, who had all gathered near you, their usual place whenever you were around.

“clumsy lessi.” you mumbled as you pointed at alessia, the rest room erupting in laughter just like every other time you said it, and the striker once again protested.

“she knows like ten words and those are two of them!”

"don't get mad at the baby for speaking the truth russo!"

[lyneira]

♡ 1 sit-up = 1 kiss ♡

-> you challenge the genshin men to do sit-ups, but with each rep, they also get a kiss from you (just like in the gif above!) How would they react?

suggestive in some parts!

"I'm getting ripped tonight~" rip that [redacted]"

Itto, Childe,

They'll immediately be on the floor and all ready to go when you propose this challenge because he would be ABSOLUTELY pumped up. Like, c'mon. He gets to show off his physical prowess and get a little love from you at the same time? HECK YEAH 💪 by the time he's finished, his abs are going to be rock harder than ever and your lips are going to feel numb after kissing him hundreds of times (and let's be honest, that number probably wouldn't be an exaggeration)

Even with both of your lips being numb, he'll still expect more than just a "couple" of pecks on the lips to satiate him after you've tired him out. You've made him sweat, so it's only fair that he gets to make you sweat too. And y'all will get physical, alright ;)

"Lemme just kiss you!"

Venti, Kaveh, Scaramouche, Xiao, Diluc

He'd scoff at the idea and would roll over, whining, "Why should I do that when I can just kiss you without doing any work?" He'll go in for a kiss, but you'll instantly block it with your hand, clicking your tongue and teasingly telling him that he'll have to earn your kisses today.

I think he'll be stubborn and would still refuse to commit to your challenge for a little while before finally giving in. He'd miss your lips too much and can't go a day without your kiss, after all. He'll go down to the floor with furrowed brows and a big pout on his face, ready for the "strenuous" exercise Yet, soon, that frown would gradually turn upside down with each sit-up and kiss you'd give him.

Okay, tbh, it won't be a full, big smile because he'd slowly be dying both inside and out after each rep LOL. He's doing his best! Needless to say, he probably wouldn't get through a whole lot of reps and would be laying there, panting heavily, all sweaty and tired out by the end of that little workout session (-> mainly applied to Venti, Kaveh, and maybe Scaramouche? Xiao and Diluc would probably get through it easily, the whole thing would just be a bit annoying to them)

"The things you make me do for you, y/n...", he'd huff.

You'd giggle and lean down towards his face, "you did a good job, sweetheart~", and would then pepper his face with a multitude of kisses. "Here's your reward", you'd continue, planting a loving kiss onto his lips. And with the way he'd melt into your lips and softly moan, you would have guessed that he finally thought it was worth it after all.

Makes it interesting

Heizou, Kaeya, Ayato, Alhaitham, Baizhu

He'd agree to your challenge, but not without making it interesting in his own way. If you were going to challenge him, then he'd give you a challenge too: Could you resist him as he was doing what you had asked of him? Let's see.

Before he begins your challenge, he'd pull off his top, exposing his toned upper body, and he'd smirk to himself as he watched how you were already distracted and were practically drooling at his display. This would make the next part all the more enjoyable for him.

So the challenge would start off fine with you two giving each other a simple, quick peck after each rep. Yet, soon enough, he'd bring in more passion into his kisses, taking a bit more time on your lips after each one. His kisses would leave you wanting more, would make you forget about the exercising part and he knew this, so he'd continue with his reps, despite you attempting to hold him still.

To make matters worse, he'd also begin teasing you with his tongue, licking your bottom lip quickly, pulling back to complete his rep, and sitting back up to eventually go deeper with it, allowing his tongue to dance with yours. Even when you thought that he finally quit with the sit-ups, he again pulled back to complete another rep.

At some point, you'd have enough of his teasing and would pin him down and devour his lips, fueled by the hunger he had instilled in you. You two would eventually forget about your challenge and would have a heated makeout session instead. Seems like his plan worked, hehe

Indulges you

Zhongli, Cyno, Tighnari, Kazuha, Albedo, Dainsleif

He initially raises an eyebrow, wondering what spurred the sudden challenge on, but he won't back down from it, even if it does seem a bit trivial. Anyway, he'd be able to do it with ease, barely even breaking a sweat during the exercise.

And while he does enjoy this "fun" way of kissing you, he knows that this would simply go on for forever if he doesn't do anything. So after a certain rep, he would take the opportunity to surprise you with a long and deep kiss, holding your face firmly. When he breaks away, he'd look at your flushed face with a smile.

"Must I do more sit-ups to kiss you?"

You'd answer him by pouncing on him and kissing him.

>///<

Gorou, Thoma

They'd have a difficult time getting through the exercise, not because of the physical workout itself, but because they'd be flustered the whole time. You'd be giving him more kisses than usual and would be encouraging him so much all while having that beloved bright expression on your face as he does your challenge. This would simply be too much for his heart to handle that he'd end up collapsing mid-sit-up, and covering his face with his hands. You'd lean over and ask,

"Too tired?"

"No....you're just too cute"

If you wanna get him even more shy, gently pull off his hands from his face, give him a big ol' kiss on his lips, then say, "Well, I think you're cute too 😘" and watch him combust lol

a/n: I was just looking for cute gifs when I came across this one and was immediately inspired to write this, haha. l also kinda gave up heading towards the end ngl, the writer's block is too real for me rn :'D

© 2023 lyneira. PLEASE DO NOT COPY, PLAGIARIZE, OR REPOST MY WRITING ONTO OTHER PLATFORMS

[see-arcane]

I have been possessed by a stronger than average craving for tinkering with Jonathan Harker's genders (Jonders). Jonathan Harker is undeniably and forever my favorite gothic heroine. But, being that there is so much to chew on regarding his potential fluidity when it comes to gender roles within the story--the classic damsel, the willingly submissive half of the couple, the vengeful berserker, etc--it's got me thinking.

Let's take the metaphor out. What would happen to the Dracula narrative if Jonathan Harker was...

First thing's first--she almost definitely gets shouldered out of the Important Solicitor's position due to reasons of Being Girl. But she still has to get to Transylvania to be menaced by Count Bat Bastard. How?

Hawkins! Johanna is working at the firm as a secretary and personal assistant to a still very paternally mushy old Peter Hawkins. When Dracula's request comes around, he can't give up such a lucrative client over his gout and there's no one he trusts to pass it to. He has to go. And it'd only be right to treat his surrogate daughter to a paid scenic vacation have his aide along on the business trip. Especially when she hunted down Carfax Abbey herself! What a lovely outing they'll have.

...or not.

True to form, Count Dracula is very much not to be trusted around pretty young things of any kind. Considering his canon habits, things aren't about to go any easier for Miss Harker. But at least she has Hawkins watching out for her in-person! It all makes for some very tense talk when discussing anything other than the estate purchase; which Hawkins seems as keen to rush as Dracula is to dawdle over. But at least they'll be out of here soon. What's a couple of awkward nights, right?

One in particular has Johanna nervous as she goes to bed. Hawkins had taken Dracula aside with a hard smile, insisting there was a 'delicate matter' he wished to speak with the Count about. The last time a 'delicate matter' was brought up was when he nearly lobbed a typewriter at one of his ex-solicitor's heads for some distinctly unseemly behavior in her direction. She hopes there isn't a storm brewing under their host's roof. She hopes harder that tomorrow they'll be heading back to the Borgo Pass.

Instead:

Oh.

Oh no.

Between this and one requisite nightmare-week in which the joys of womanhood come and go--let's leave it unspoken whether her set of bloodstained cloths stay in her possession or not--Johanna gets put through the wringer. Per usual. But eventually..!

Yeah. No shock there. Deep calming breaths, Jack. Don't let the wonderful diary concuss you.

Part of being one of two (gasp) G I R L S in the Scooby Gang, Van Helsing and company vote Johanna and Mina out of the dirt hunt. Except. Well. Johanna is still necessary to have on the ground here. She's the only one with the location intel--and a surprise willed gift of inheritance and the firm from poor Hawkins, who the Transylvanian locals all vouch for as being 'slain by wolves,' leaving Johanna free of blame--so she's still running around for the crew.

Even so, odds are high that she initially gets sidelined with Mina. Which isn't overly awful. It is good to be side-by-side in this timeline! No needless sequestering from each other! Johanna is already planning to see Mina back to their new house before they have to sleep another night in an asylum.

And then comes the 3rd of October.

Van Helsing: "Madam Harker, is it not somewhat attention-catching to wear trousers in public? We are meant to be unremarkable while we wait on th--"

Johanna, has already smoked through two cigars, kukri in her lap, playing a game of chicken with God: "Do you think I scaled a mountain in three layers of skirts, Professor? No? Then I will not do the same if the rancid bastard tries to escape out the window."

Van Helsing, aside: "Friend John, can you speak sense to her?"

Jack, melting off the side of the bench: "I think I hauve consumption"

Anyway. She very much does get to the Dracula head chopping. And there will be much rejoicing. BUT all that grimdarkness aside, there are other, more hijinks-flavored opportunities to think of with this particular set up. If only because I genuinely believe that Lucy and Art, having two spare best friends on hand and a general vibe that radiates 'ooooh what if triple wedding???', would come up with the following master plan. Some truly Shakespearean folly kind of shit:

Thankfully, Johanna and Mina nix the idea pretty quick. Case in point:

And, last but not least, my final word on the range of Jonders that exist within my very best gothic heroine friend:

ha ha I do that

[findmeinforks]

The Incident - Paul Lahote x Fem!Reader

A little one shot that I just couldn't stop writing. A good angst to fluff (btw my fics will never be all angst, im too soft). Also do not fear, Im working on a Sam fic and part 3 to not letting you go. But you let ME know what you think of this one ❤️ 2K words

"My SISTER, Paul. She's my fucking SISTER!" you yelled, voice hoarse as your throat cracked.

"I could give a SHIT LESS WHAT SHE IS. YOU'RE. NOT. GOING." He screamed, jaw taut as he tried his best to subside the tremors that were threatening to take over his body.

You ignored the teeth he bared, shaking your head and scoffing.

"Aren't you tired of this?! I'm going over there. I HAVE to know she's safe."

"YOU SERIOUSLY THINK I'LL JUST SIT BY AND WATCH MY IMPRINT GO TO A PLACE WHERE I CAN'T PROTECT HER? WHAT ABOUT ME KNOWING THAT YOU'RE SAFE?? HUH?? YOU'RE SICK IF YOU THINK I WOULD BE OKAY WITH THIS!"

"Sick?!? SICK?!? LETS TALK ABOUT HOW 'SICK' IT IS THAT YOU WOULD WANT TO KILL HER AND THE BABY. THATS MY FAMILY PAUL!"

"AND WERE NOT?"

It had been like this for a week straight. Ever since the pack stormed through the door announcing their mission to kill Bella and the unborn child within her.

You felt as though your two families had been pinned against each other. Head spinning at the idea of there being a 'choice' between your sister and imprint.

On one hand you were desperate to make sure she was alright, but also exhausted at the never ending battle with your boyfriend.

Sure you had talked to Bella over the phone, but you didn't buy into the lies like your father had. Even though you knew significantly more than he did, she still attempted to downplay the situation. She had done this numerous times since getting thrown into the vampire world, but she could only keep you in the dark for so long before you unraveled the truth.

You had to see her. Even if it was the last time. By fate, or at the hands of the pack. You had to be there for her, as she would you.

Leaving your imprint though? Was at task challenging at best. On at least four different occasions you fought with Paul for so long that Emily and Sam had to intervene, prying you two apart at the pleads of other pack members.

Emily would console you while you ranted and Sam would make Paul run off his anger in the woods. When you faced him again, it turned into a rerun of the same argument. Nobody in the house had gotten sleep, and the things were progressively getting worse.

Quil came through the door, widening his eyes.

"Just a heads up everyone, a little comedic relief does not go over well. I saw my life flash before Paul's eyes." He huffed before sitting down.

"When is this going to be overrrr?" Embry whined. He shoved his head in his hands on the kitchen table while you and Paul went at it in the front yard.

Emily sighed.

"Unfortunately sooner than you think....Y/N packed her suitcase this morning." She said quietly.

"You're not really going to let her go over there are you?!?" Kim stood up, looking at both Emily and Sam.

"If you would like to stop her, please, be my guest." Sam motioned his hand to outside, where you and Paul could be seen through the window. You were throwing your arms up and pointing fingers at him, while his voice boomed loudly, towering his large frame over yours.

Kim winced.

You had always been the calm to Paul's raging storm. 'Made him all soft' as the guys would tease. None of them had actually seen you two disagree with each other. In the mind link they saw glimpses of minor arguments, most of the time being reconciled in the sheets..

Paul eventually got an order by Sam to think about something else while on patrol. 'Literally, anything else'.

"She's not going anywhere. I can count on my hand how many times they've been apart since he imprinted. They'll work it out eventually." Jared said as he pulled Kim on his lap, taking a hunk out of his apple.

Kim didn't share a look that she believed him, worriedly looking out to where you stood.

A few moments passed when her body stiffened and she gasped, making Jared look where she was.

"SHIT! SHIT!" He said, throwing Kim off his lap.

Sam turned to look out the window in time to see Paul phase, his sharp claw making contact with your skin. Your blood curdling scream instantly had everyone else off their seats, nearly knocking each other over to race outside.

You laid on the ground as your body wracked with sobs, clutching your side. Blood gushed through your hand as you started to panic, scrambling to stand. The large silver wolf only stood for a few moments before Paul shifted back, completely horrified as he frantically tried to reach you.

He felt his heart nearly rip out of his chest as you backpedaled into Emily, who was helping to hold you upright.

"NO! NO! GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM ME! IM DONE!" You cried.

Sam stood in the middle of the two of you.

Paul could feel his chest caving in, hand out, speaking more gently than he had at all in the past week.

"B-baby. Please. Please, I'm- I'm so sorry baby. Please let me just see-"

"NO! I'm done. I'm done. I'm leaving. I'm done." You repeated like a mantra, limping to the car.

"Y/N you cannot drive like this..." Emily attempted to say as she stepped in from behind you. She could see your anxiety was heightened, and afraid to set you off further.

"I have to go," you choked, on the verge of tears as you tried to open the drivers side. You had yet to even notice the gash in your side, adrenaline pumping wildly through your body.

Paul made his way around Sam, grabbing your other arm that was holding the door.

"You are crazy if you think I'm letting you leave like this. Please come-"

You yanked your arm from his grasp.

"Don't. Let me go!" You said coldly.

Paul froze. He couldn't move. You never spoke to him like this. Even in the numerous fights you two had this week.

Every single instinct in his body needed to help you. He knew you were downplaying your injuries. He knew he just royally fucked everything up. But the absolute last thing you could do was walk into a house full of vampires dripping in blood. Fucking doctor or not.

"Come inside and let me take a look at you, okay? Please." Emily said to coax you, frantically looking at your wound.

This made Sam follow her gaze, looking down to see the blood pouring from your side hadn't stopped, and you were growing paler by the minute.

"Y/N....you're going to stay here and I'll call Sue." He said in an authoritative voice, leaving no room to argue as he turned to start dialing the number.

You almost argued. You almost fought both of them on the subject. Your stubbornness almost won.

But you felt an immense pain. So strong you don't know how the hell you didn't notice it when you stood up.

That couldn't be good.

"....Y/N?" Paul said, barely above a whisper. Tears were now silently streaming down his face as he held both hands out slightly. Not close enough to touch you but to be prepared in case you fell.

You could feel yourself start to float in and out of consciousness. You tried to ground yourself by focusing on something. You looked at his hands that were outstretched.

Those hands that you held on your first date. The hands that hover your back anywhere you go. The hands that lift you up from the couch on movie nights to bring you to bed. The hands that move in just the right way when making love to you. The hands that were now shaking, not out of anger, but fear. You loved those hands.

"Y/N? Baby?" Paul said louder, more urgently as he could see you fading.

You watched him get blurry as the world started to spin.

"Paul," you murmured, before fading into darkness. The last thing you remember were the hands that caught you before you hit the ground.

"Y/N!!!" Paul screamed as he caught your body falling into him.

Sam ran back, telling him Sue was just up the street. He instructed Paul to carry you inside and onto the bed. The pack dispersed, each trying to find something to help you such as towels, an emergency kit and pillows.

Paul held you close as he lay you down, while repeatedly whispering in your ear.

"I'm so sorry baby. I'm so-so sorry. I cant lose you. Youre everything to me. I'll never yell at you again. I swear on my life. You can do whatever you want. I'll do whatever you want. Please, I love you." Paul pressed kisses to your hairline when Sue and her nurse friend entered.

Jared reluctantly came in behind them to lead Paul out of the room as they worked.

"Come on man, she'll wake up soon I promise."

After he was guided out, Paul slid down to sit on the other side of the door, refusing to move. Jared didn't push it, leaning down to sit next to him.

"Sue's seen this kind of stuff before. Just needs stitching up and stuff," Jared reassured as he put his hand on Paul's shoulder.

"It's not the injuries I'm worried about. So much as what she'll think of me when she wakes up. I....I fucked this one up, Jare."

"If Emily can forgive Sam, I think Y/N will forgive you. She's crazy about your ass."

Paul just nodded, praying he was right.

~

Your eyes fluttered open slowly as you woke. You looked around to see that you had been bandaged up along your left side, an IV attached to your arm sat close by. You attempted to sit up, whining when the pain wouldn't allow it. Within a few minutes Emily entered, her face showing relief.

"You're up! How are you feeling?" She checked the IV before sitting on the edge of the bed, careful of your body.

"Sore...where's, where's Paul?" Your heart ached as you started to replay what happened. There was no doubt in your mind what happened was an accident. You had seen the signs he always warned you about, and chose to ignore them in the heat of the argument. Not only that, but the look on his face when you had refused him was too much to bare.

Emily smiled, not expecting you to want to see him so soon.

"He's just outside the door. Hasn't moved. He didn't know if you'd want to see him..."

"I need to talk to him."

It hadn't even been a few seconds when Paul stood at the door. He looked more out of shape than you did. The disheveled hair and dark circles under his eyes told you he hadn't slept in days.

"I'll give you two some space. Just holler if you need anything," Emily spoke as she stood up, making her way around him and down the stairs.

Paul remained where he stood,

"If you don't want to be with me I understand. I have no words for my actions other than I am so...." he cleared his throat, trying not to cry. "So incredibly sorry I put you through this. I put you in danger when I was trying to keep you out of it. You don't have to stay I-"

"Paul please just kiss me." You interrupted, not wanting to hear the rest as you already made up your mind in forgiving him.

He stood for just a moment longer, trying to comprehend if he heard you correctly. It was when you weakly opened your arms for him that he wasted no time in rushing over to you, cupping your face and gently yet passionately kissed you with everything he had. Tears flowed his cheeks at the relief that you still wanted him. Even after everything he had put you through.

You two pulled back for air after a moment, and you ran your hand through his hair.

"I forgive you, okay? I can't imagine my life without you."

He let out a breath, smiling for the first time in weeks.

"It will never happen again. I swear on my fucking life baby." He caressed your hair, neck, landing his palm on your heart.

You two sat like that for awhile. Almost scared to leave each other's presence. You two talked for hours on the bed. Paul had confessed that the night before, while you were sleeping, the pack had fought with the Cullens. You learned that Paul refused to go, not wanting to leave your side. You were grateful to hear that Sam didn't push on him being there, knowing you were all that mattered to him, and he'd refuse him if he had too. Even if it went against his every instinct as a wolf. Turns out that Jacob had imprinted on your niece, and Bella had survived, now as a vampire.

You weren't particularly thrilled your sister was now a bloodsucker, but as long as she was alive, you were happy.

Paul eventually made his way to the other side of the bed, kissing every exposed inch of you, whispering all the things he loved about you in your ear until you fell asleep.

When your heartbeat slowed down and he was sure you were out, he reached down and felt the velvet box in his pocket. No doubt in his mind about the future you both held.

[dckweed]

Not sure if you're doing top gun requests right now, but if so, here's one. Rooster with a girl who is helping penny at the bar on a super busy night and there is some rowdy group who keeps calling her over and staring at her, and eventually they go too far and try to grab her but she just knocks one of them clean out and as the guys (hangman, fanboy, etc) is taking care of them, rooster takes her away bc she was about to go crazy on them lol. He's just like "that was so hot but you don't need to go to prison tonight."

baby i am always taking top gun requests. ooooh i love this idea so freaking much, thank you for choosing me to send it too, i absolutely do love it when you guys send things!

please note that i see every request that comes in and i am getting to them one at a time! with that being said, feel free to send one in!

anway, how are we all doing today? are we staying hydrated?

warnings: drinking, violence, inappropriate groping and harassment, bar fights, established relationship with rooster!

"BITCHLESS & DICKLESS' bradley rooster bradshaw x fem!reader

It was a busy Friday night at the Hard Deck, you and Penny the only two working and barely able to keep up with the constant flow of customers coming through, it only seemed to get even more crowded and rowdy when a small group of sailors fresh off the base come through, taking up a couple of the tables near the juke box. They signal you over and you make your towards them, order pad in hand incase they order more than just beer.

"Hey guys, how can i help you?" You ask, your voice upbeat and a smile on your face. It was sticky hot outside and you knew your shirt was clinging to your skin because of it, you tried not to feel too uncomfortable with the obvious way two of the men were staring at you. "Eyes up here, fellas." You say, giving a playful angry look. You were used to being looked at, it kind of came with the job title of bartender, but that didn't mean that it didn't make you uncomfortable.

One of the men cocks a smirk at you, leaning back easily in his seat. "They'll have a round of Budweiser," He says, his eyes not leaving you once as he gestures towards his friends. "and i'll have your number, sweetness."

Before you can open your mouth to object politely, one of his buddies beats you to it. "Hey, Hanks, give some of us a chance with her damn." He chuckles flashing you a smile.

"How about none of you get a chance?" You say sweetly, laughing with his buddies. "I'll be back with the beers in a minute." You shake your head, walking back to the bar. You grab six cold beers from the ice box and start putting them on a serving tray.

"Those boys gonna be trouble?" Penny asks, maneuvering her way behind you with a few drinks of her own. You hadn't realized that she had heard the interaction.

"No, they'll be fine." You shake your head, glancing back over at the table as you pop the tops off of the bottles one by one. The one that had asked for your number, Hanks, was staring at you and talking to the rest of his friends at the same time. His gaze unsettled you, but you carried on with your job anyway. You make your way back over to them, planting your serving smile back on to your face as you start handing out their beers. "Alright fellas, let me know if there's anything else i can get you, okay?"

"That phone number is still wanted, honey." Hanks' friend says, taking a sip from his bottle. He shoots you a wink and manspreads in his chair, you perk an eyebrow at him. What was it with navy boys being so goddamn persistent?

"I'm sure it is honey," You say, your voice a little more stern on the matter this time around. "but my boyfriend sure wouldn't appreciate me giving it out to random navy boys that walk into my bar." You turn to head back towards the actual bar, where you see Penny starting struggle.

"I don't see him around, im sure what he don't know won't kill him!" Hanks voice calls after you, its almost admirable how persistent they are, it was afterall one of the more endearing qualities about your boyfriend when you first met him, although you had to say that he hadn't been nearly as uncomfortable as these boys were.

"Oh he'll be around!" You call back over your shoulder, not noticing that at that moment said boyfriend and his group of friends had walked through the front door of the bar. You didn't notice them for quite a few minuets, giving them plenty of time to get to their usual seats as you worked on the fresh wave of customers at the bar, mixing drinks and handing them out almost mechanically.

After around twenty minutes or so Bradley comes up to the bar, standing directly behind you, your back turned as you pour beer from the tap. "Here you g-Bradley!" You exclaim excitedly, nearly spilling the beer in your hands before you hand it to the man standing next to him.

"Hey baby," He says, his voice gruff and hoars, tired. He gladly accepts your kiss as you lean across the bar for it, pressing his lips against your own. He was still wearing his flight suit, and still covered in sweat, and a quick glance towards the others told you everything y ou needed to know.

"Rough day?" You look at him, eyes questioning as you get to work making their drinks. Whiskey neat for Jake, Scotch on the rocks for Bradley and Natasha and a pop for Bob, your favorite sober companion most evenings.

"You could say that," He says, a deep sigh leaving his chest as he watches you, already feeling more at ease. You didnt pry any farther, knowing he would tell you all about it in bed that night. "When are you off?"

You pout, coming around the bar with the drinks on a serving tray. "Not until nearly closing tonight," You say, walking with him towards the others. Bradley studiously takes the tray from you, ever the gentleman even on his roughest days, his arm brushing your shoulder as you walk. "Hey guys," You greet, giving Jake and Bob your usual friendly kiss on the cheek, and with a giggle you give one to Nat too when she taps hers and gives you a lopsided grin. You could tell by looks on their faces that they all needed a dose of happiness.

"Where's mine?" Bradley whines, hand on your hip possessively. You roll your eyes at him but lean up to kiss his waiting cheek anyway, adoring the small smile that tugs at the corners of his lips.

"Awe come on Rooster, you get her all the time, let the rest of us have some." Natasha says, causing you to throw your head back in a laugh, leaning farther into your boyfriend. Your laugh was infectious and the whole group lets out a chuckle, you watch their bodies relax afterwards. "Might want to keep em coming, Y/N , it's been a rough one.."

Jake looks somewhere behind you, eyebrows pinched, stare hard. "Looks like you're in need, Y/N" He says, raising his whiskey to his lips to take a sip.

You look over your shoulder, your eyes landing on the group of sailors from earlier on the other side of the bar. "Those guys again," You sigh, grabbing your tray off the table.

Bob grabs your wrist before you go, and you furrow your brow at him. "Are those guys giving you a hard time?" He asks quietly, he knew Bradley was already on edge as it was and didn't want him looking for a fight.

"Nothing i can't handle, Bobby," You say, ruffling his hair with a wink before heading off towards the group, putting some pep back in your step. "Ready for round two already, fellas?"

The night drags on quickly and slowly all at the same time, customers come and go, drinks are made and made again and carried out to tables. The two main groups being your Boyfriend and the rest of the daggers and the group of boat boys who become more rowdy as the night drags on.

Bradley is already uneasy with them as it is, catching them staring at you one too many times and asking for your number more than once, to which you studiously turn them down, looking his way as if asking for help. He knew he would step in when needed, but he also hoped that didn't need to happen, he knew Penny would talk to Mav and Mav would talk his ear off about it tomorrow on base.

Your patience had more than worn thin, and you were counting down the minuets until your shift was over, hoping that the last half an hour would pass without any issues. Your hopes were wrong though.

You were bringing the group of boat boys another round of beers and a couple of waters and were just picking up the empties and placing them on your tray when you feel it, a large, sweaty hand sliding up the back of your thigh and right up onto your ass, giving it a heavy squeeze. Your eyes widen. "You wanna lose that fucking hand?" You ask, voice gruff as you stand up straight. The entire table quiets.

"What? Fly girl over there is good enough to squeeze this thick ass but i'm not?" Natasha had playfully smacked your ass on her way to the restroom a short time ago, something the two of you had grown close enough as friends to do. It had made you laugh, but this? Oh this was an entirely different ball game.

You see red, and off in the distance you hear Bradley and Jake both yell and the sounds of chairs scraping against the floor as they all get up abruptly. Youve done it before they can even reach you though. The tray drops from your grasp, your dominant hand balling up as the sound of shattering glass reaches your ears and your fist collides with Hanks' face, right between the eyes. You feel a sickening crunch under the force of the blow and blood spurts out of his nostrils as he slumps down, you had hit him hard enough to knock him out.

"What the fuck?!?" Bradley is next to you, arm out protectively as his friends all stand from their seats, ready to brawl over what you had done, even though their pig of a friend had done worse in your opinion. "Y/N?"

"Bitchless and Dickless over there can't catch a fucking hint!" You yell lunging for his friend. Rooster's arms hold you back though before you can make contact with him, the entire bar watches you scream and kick at the sailor as your boyfriend drags you out towards the parking lot. "Fucking assholes! Squeezed my fucking ass!"

Surprisingly, Bob is the first to throw a punch. He had been watching the idiots mess with you all night long along with Rooster. And after their long ass day he was just as ready to fight as the rest of them, infact, he actually took pleasure in what he did. His fist collides squarely with Hanks' friend and Natasha drags the already semi conscious asshole across the floor after you and Bradley, Penny coming to help her.

"Jesus christ baby, you started a fucking brawl!" Bradley laughs, opening the passenger door of the bronco, shoving all of his stuff onto the floorboard as he sets you up on the seat. "That was so fucking hot," He says, hearing police sirens in the distance already. "You have no idea how bad i want to fuck you right now but i can't have you going to jail tonight, buckle in tight baby.." He says, closing your door before running around to the drivers side, the only the thought on his mind is getting you home where you're safe and in your guys' bed, preferably underneath of him.