#(also i'm always pleased with how much of the german i can follow)

[shredsandpatches]

thinkin' about this a lot, and the fact that Goethe had not read Marlowe when he wrote Faust I

* reasonably but not completely literal translation of the German:

[hottpinkpenguin]

Easy Company HC's: Letters Home

A/n: I'm really rolling with these BofB headcanons! hope you enjoy :)

Characters included: Dick Winters, Lewis Nixon, Ronald Speirs, Carwood Lipton, Buck Compton, David Webster, Joe Liebgott

Dick Winters

Writes frequent, short letters

Meticulously dates his letters and includes a blurb about the weather. January 12th, 1945. It’s snowing outside, dark and cold. 

Starts each letter with My dear y/n 

Always asks how you are, even though he’s the one fighting a damn war

Follows up on every little question or story you include in your letters. How was the bake sale? Did you ever hear how Louise Graham’s brother is doing after taking that shrapnel to the shoulder? Hope you were able to get someone out to look at the washing machine.

Ends his letters with classic but sentimental sign-offs, like Affectionately yours and All my love

Makes sure not to include anything in his letters that would worry you. Doesn’t necessarily lie or fake being happy, but just gently side steps that. 

Although every once in a while you get a longer letter where Dick’s handwriting is a little messier. You know it’s from writing fast, you can almost feel the pressure behind the penmarks. He opens up more in those letters, talks about losing too many good men and sometimes will say things that just absolutely break your heart, like sometimes I wonder how all of this is really going to end for the men who are over here fighting. 

Even in these letters, Dick never says “I” or “Me”, always writes about the men and the boys. You know - and so does he - that he’s including himself in those boys.

His next letter he always makes sure to reassure you. And it’s genuine, you can tell. He’ll say something like I have to put some of these heavier thoughts somewhere, and there’s nowhere I trust more than with you. 

When he comes home, you find a stack of letters you wrote to him tied up in a neat bundle and stashed in an inside pocket of his Ike jacket that he sewed in especially for that purpose. You could tell by the flimsy, near-ripped creases and dirty paper that he’d read each one about a hundred times over. Buried in the middle of the stack was the picture you’d given him before he’d left for training. On the back, he’d written simply your name, the date the photo was taken, and a short instruction: in event of my death, please send all personal effects to with your home address. It made you sob but you never told him you found it.

GIF by mads-weasley

Lewis Nixon

Rarely writes. Actually drives you crazy with worry most of the time.

When he finally does, you can tell that he’s initially annoyed at having to put his thoughts down on paper. Letters start off with short, sarcastic sentences like nothing new here. Still fighting the war, in case you hadn’t heard. Enjoying German hospitality. 

But as the letters go on he relaxes into it and stops being so grouchy. 

Because he’s always grumpy at having to write (you should probably thank Dick for cajoling Lew into actually sitting down to write to you), he usually doesn’t write any sort of introduction or sweet address, just dives right into it.

His letters usually don’t say much, he just kind of rambles about how much he hates being away from you and how he can’t wait for the whole damn thing to be over. 

Sometimes he’ll write something so incredibly romantic it takes your breath away, like I’d fight a whole division of Panzers myself if I could just get one more sniff of your perfume. 

Those are the letters you save and reread to yourself over and over again when you’re waiting weeks for the next one.

Always signs off with something kind of sassy but also sweet?, like You know I love you or Keep our bed warm for me. 

Sometimes you feel like you can smell whiskey on the paper, which both worries you but also reminds you of Lew

When he finally gets home and you ask him about what he did with your letters, he kind of looks at you like you’ve gone crazy and says I read them of course, what else was I supposed to do with them? 

This hurts your feelings at first which of course he doesn’t understand, but after a few weeks you start to realize that he actually did read them and not only that he memorized their contents. Like he refers to your mother as “the Wicked Witch of Wichita” (something you called here after you wrote him a long rambling letter about how angry she made you at your sister’s bridal shower) and buys you a bouquet of daffodils because you wrote him a letter with a daffodil doodle in the margins of the page talking about the spring gardens. 

You realize that Lew shows his love in the little details, and it makes you appreciate him all the more.

GIF by beautifulguycollector

Ronald Speirs

Ron’s letters read like military bulletins. 

Doing well despite the cold. 1st sgt sick with pneumonia. Think of you often.

Writes predictably once per week. Never misses a letter. Ever. 

You always write him long, lengthy, romantic letters. Sometimes even a little raunchy, if you’ve had some wine. After one particularly *ahem* suggestive letter, you feel ridiculous and say so the next time you write.

In typical Ron fashion, you get a short, to-the-point reply, but it still puts a smile on your face and a blush on your cheeks: Loved your letter. Keep writing. 

Towards the end of the war, Ron starts a countdown to when he expects to be coming home. Two months now, maybe less. Home for the Fourth of July. 

Also signs off with R.S. Which makes you laugh, as if you could forget who was writing to you.

Whenever your girlfriends find a letter from Ron (you keep them all in a shoebox in your closet), they tease you and ask how you can possibly be in love with someone so stiff and formal. To which you can only chuckle to yourself, because you know it’s just that they don’t understand that Ron doesn’t tell you he loves you, he shows you. Writing a letter every single week. Updating you on everything going on, even short updates, because he wants you to know how he’s doing. That’s Ronald Speirs’ love language.

Maybe three weeks before Ron comes home, you start getting boxes of (stolen?) German silver at your door. At first it freaks you out and makes you feel slimy for having lavish riches from an enemy country, so you don’t unpack the boxes and you just stack them up in the back bedroom. When Ron gets home and sees the boxes unopened and shut away, he immediately asks you what’s wrong. You stammer out an explanation and without blinking an eye, Ron loads them into his truck and takes them to the dump. 

(Later you convince him that a better use of those would be to donate them to the local orphanage, so off he goes in his truck to get the boxes back out of the dump and bring them to shelter.)

One night when you’re lying awake, head on Ron’s chest, talking idly about things that don’t matter, he interrupts you to ask Can you guess which letter I kept? 

You instantly blush, thinking of that risque letter you wrote him when you were halfway through your second bottle of white wine. He shakes his head and pulls a letter out of his nightstand and hands it to you. You don’t recognize it immediately, although you do see that it’s too short to be one of the naughtier correspondences. 

It’s too dark to read, so you ask him which letter. He says it’s the one you wrote to me for my birthday. 

You don’t remember that one and you tell him as much, so you ask him why he kept that one instead of some of the others. He looks down at you with a serious look in his eyes, a little surprised that you can’t figure it out. Then he tells you: it’s the first time you wrote that you loved me. 

The next day, you sneak a peek at the letter and realize he’s right. You signed it, I love you Ron. 

From then on, you make sure to tell him that every night before he falls asleep.

Carwood Lipton

Formal, sweet letters. This man is a king of romancing by words.

Writes as often as he can, but you know that Lip needs peace and quiet for an entire evening to get one of those letters done (he probably definitely writes a draft or two before he gets it right). And let’s face it, Easy Company doesn’t have the luxury of many quiet evenings. 

Always, always, always starts his letters off with Dear (future) Mrs. Lipton, which you honestly think is hopelessly corny but it’s way too adorable to tell him so. And besides, you secretly love it.

He always reminisces about home in his letters. Tells you how much he misses the smell of your baking, the squeak of the front porch swing that you two would sit on and watch the sunset. 

He worries a lot about you and his family. He always asks you to look in on his mother if it’s not too much trouble. 

Lip doesn’t talk much about the war, in fact he hardly acknowledges it at all. And he never uses the term ‘war’ or ‘battle’. Instead, he says things like The boys over here are still committed to doing the job or Easy presses on.  

Lip’s letters get a little shorter and less soft after Bastogne. He starts including the names of the casualties in his company in the P.S. Even though you don’t know these men except by name - and some of them, not even that - you feel honored that he trusts you with their memories. 

Lip has saved your letters and all the pictures you sent to him - he loves pictures, and asks for an updated one of you almost every month - tucked in his foot locker and safely between the pages of his Bible so they don’t get creased or dirty. 

You also find that he’s kept stacks of letters from some of his men that died in the field. When you ask him what he plans to do with the letters, he gets a heartbreaking, far-off look in his eyes and says I reckon I’ll try to get them back to their families. 

You take on the burden of doing that, and you write to some of the families introducing yourself and introducing Lip and offering to forward them the letters.

All the replies you get back mention that their soldier talked about how good a leader and friend Lip was. Their replies bring tears to your eyes. For some reason, you don’t show the letters to Lip, although you do tell him about them. He never asks to read the letters, he just kisses you on your forehead and tells you that he’s never loved you more. 

Even after he’s home, he’ll still write you a letter from time to time, usually at Christmastime or for your birthday in the summer. His letters are always talking about his favorite memories with you, and there’s always a paragraph at the end where he talks about how in love with you he is. It’s borderline poetry and it makes you cry every single time.

GIF by balladofthe101st

Buck Compton

Basically just writes a list of questions for you to answer in every letter.

Wants to know everything about what’s going on at home. Especially sports teams.

Doesn’t write frequently, so sometimes it’s hard to feel like there’s a conversation happening. 

But he always includes sweet little notes about how much he’s thinking of you and how he’s counting down the days until he can hold you again, so you’re not complaining. 

Not the most poetic writer. Always says what he thinks and feels though. Completely honest and open. 

Does not tell you anything about the war. Basically ignores the entire thing. 

Sometimes you think about asking him about that, but you figure that he’s not talking about it for a reason, so you follow suit.

Calls you baby in his letters. 

Doesn’t actually say ‘I love you’ in his letters, although says everything else. Miss you baby. Dream about you all the time. When I get home, I’m putting a ring on your finger. 

One time he writes that he woke up last night out of a dream and swore I could taste you and it makes your toes curl.

You save that letter, tuck it in your underwear drawer. 

Signs his letters very simply: Buck. Sometimes he’ll put something in like until next time or I’ll write soon. But usually nothing super romantic or sentimental.

Doesn’t save your letters, but that really doesn’t bother you too much because all you wrote in them was basically just rambling details that Buck requested about your boring day-to-day. 

Buck’s always better in person than in writing - he’s a quality time and physical touch kind of guy - but you know that your letters were his only lifeline to normal during the war, and you’re just happy to have him back at all. 

He does surprise you one night when it’s really quiet in the house and you’re sitting on the couch together, each reading a book. He suddenly turns to you and says You know baby girl, your letters saved my sanity over there. It’s the most he’s really ever said about the war, but it’s enough, and you kiss him so he knows that you get it.  

GIF by balladofthe101st

David Webster

Unsurprisingly, Web is probably the best letter writer in all of Easy Company. 

He helps a lot of the other guys write letters home, especially if they’re trying to say something important. Web just has a knack for words unlike any other. 

He writes a lot of letters home, not just to you, but to the rest of his family, his siblings, some of his friends, and definitely his professors. 

So because you’re close with Web’s family, you do get to read a lot of his writing. 

His letters to you are different though. They’re darker and a little less polished. Sometimes, they frighten you a little bit. Web talks about things you’re not you really understand - like how pointless death is, how empty it makes him feel to see his friends get KIA, how he carries around guilt about surviving this long like an anchor. 

Refers to you exclusively in his letters by your first name, his writing is always serious and somber and drenched with heavy emotions, so pet names just really don’t fit the vibe.

He quotes poetry and literature quite a bit when he writes. It all feels a bit Gothic, but you’ve always known that Web has found clarity in the world through books, so you don’t begrudge him a little poetic license.

Signs his letters Yours in perpetuity, David K. Webster. 

Asks you to send books. Sometimes he asks for something specific, but other times he’s happy to get whatever you pick out for him. Your tastes are different from his; you prefer to choose shorter, gentle pieces about life in the British countryside or Western adventure novels. Web would prefer Wadsworth or Hemingway, but he figures it’s probably in his best interests to read things that don’t tackle dark themes. You always tuck a letter for him into the first few pages. 

He doesn’t save your letters, per se, although he does save every single book you send to him. When he gets home, he puts them all up on the bookshelf in his office. Even though they’re beat up and stained and not at all fitting with the rest of his collection, they’re front and center. 

Sometimes he takes a stab at sketching in his letters. He’s not bad, either. You try to encourage him to take lessons when he gets home, which he never does. He secretly loves how much you love his drawings though.

GIF by yourspeirs

Joe Liebgott

KING OF DIRTY LETTERS

You definitely like to re-read his letters… again and again…

Not every letter is a dirty one. But most are. Or at least have a dirty section in them. 

You don’t know how this man makes you feel wanted from halfway around the world, but somehow he does. Lord knows you love a lot about your Joey, but you didn’t realize how good he was with words until you found yourself practically stalking the mailman, hoping for another delivery from Joe.

Uses a lot of pet names in his letters. Baby girl, Doll, Princess are some of his favorites. Literally never calls you by your name.

Always signs off with Your Joey. 

Even when Joe is clearly in a dark place, his letters are saturated with how much he needs you and how he can’t stop thinking about all the ways he’s going to have you when he gets home. 

When your mother finds one of Joey’s letters to you, she throws an absolute shit fit and freaks out that you’re sleeping with someone before you’re married. It takes a long time for you to convince her that you haven’t slept with Joey yet, you’re just… really into dirty talking.

She kinda chills after that but still looks at you suspiciously every time you get a letter from him.

She never tells your dad though, which makes you think maybe she’s more supportive of your relationship with him than you realized.

After working up the courage, you write Joe a letter that is so sinful you actually doubt whether you should send it in the mail, it just feels so wrong.

When I say this man goes crazy for that letter, it is an understatement. He is out of his mind and immediately writes you a reply telling you so. Basically begs you for more.

Even though your letters back and forth with Joe are pretty raunchy, there’s also a sweetness to them. He’s always sure to mention that This ain’t just all talk, Doll. When you’re Mrs. Liebgott, you’re gonna see exactly what I’ve been writing about. Which you know is still pretty dirty, but hey, he’s basically proposing to you, right?

You are not the least bit surprised to know that he kept your naughtiest letters when he finally gets home.

But, Joseph Liebgott is a man of his word, and even though he is clearly dying to and you’re practically begging him to, he doesn’t make good on all those dirty promises until after you’re wearing his ring.

Much to your delight, you find that he is just as good with actions as he is with words.

[disneyprincemuke]

u said "3k celebration" i heard "be annoying, terrorize me"

so here is from the prompt list: enemies but one is admitting, confessing and crying to the another after almost losing them!!!!!

WITH RBR!SEB cause 🫠🫠🫠🫠 (she could be a driver too mayhaps... maybe even teammates hm idk oopsie and uh seb is the one admitting cause i love pathetic men)

to be fair, my requests are always open so that i can be terrorised lolsie xoxo,, i ask the voices to stop but i actually like the voices

also, i've been writing this blurb for like an hour, hour and a half... i didn't know any other way to make this shorter than how it is now like idk tine u bring out the long winded writer in me idk

"what the hell were you thinking?" you watch blankly as sebastian walks into your hospital room. "your car literally split in half! are you not at least a little bit glad that you came out alive?" you stare at him before you rest your head gently on the pillow that christian had fluffed up behind you. you close your eyes. "no. i want to get some sleep. go away." "what the hell is wrong with you? wake up!" sebastian cries, throwing his head back. on the tv in the corner of the room, the race carries on. the race that you had both retired from after a nasty crash between you two. while his crash was minor, your car had broken in half. the race was delayed by almost two hours following the crash of the red bulls. "sebastian," you sigh tiredly, opening your eyes. "go away. we're seriously not close enough for you to care this much about my crash." "what are you talking about?" "be serious right now." he tilts his head, hands on his hips. "i don't understand." "we don't like each other. cut the crap, sebastian," you sigh, adjusting yourself under the blanket that christian had laid over you. "just go away. let's fight later when i'm off the meds." "what do you mean? i like you." sebastian lowers his voice, looking down at you. a hand hovers over you gently. "why would you say i don't?" "we've been at each other's throats since christian promoted me from the junior team," you huff, turning around to face the other side of the bed. "stop pretending you care for me. do you need me to speak in german for you to understand? nico taught me." "i don't hate you!" sebastian tugs at his hair, looking down at you in confusion. "i don't hate you! i'm in love with you!" you move your head, wincing slightly when a sharp pain shoots through your neck. "what did you just say?" "i've been in love with you the moment you walked into the red bull racing home for an f2 race last year!" sebastian groans, throwing his head back in dismay. "are you seriously so oblivious?" but, you just close your eyes again. you steady your breathing, begging for the medication to hit you the way it had a couple minutes ago. you try to ignore the way your heart races in your chest and the way you can no longer bite back the smile growing on your face. perhaps nico and lewis were right when they teased you just about a week ago about sebastian liking you more than you assessed. though, it is a little childish that the world champion had reduced himself to playground tactics to try and rile you up. all the teasing, the endless one-sided flirting, winking at you across the room during team dinners. it's more infuriating than anything you've ever known in the world. you huff. "i don't want to talk about this right now, sebastian. please go away."

[mysticficti0n]

All my Attention part 2

warnings- swearing, fluffy/sext Tom, mentions of being cat called, romance (😏)

words- 2.7k

If you'd like to read the previous parts → All my attention series

a/n- so I am British and cannot speak any German, I speak a little French, Spanish and Italian but German- no. I also do not trust Google translate so this is gonna be like an avatar thing (if you've seen the newest one Jake says that their language just became normal or something along those lines) so in reality this is all in German, you as a reader know German but, its wrote in English... make sense? no... well. also thank you all so much for the response to the first part! I couldn't believe I woke up and saw that many likes, I was shocked, love you all 🤍

(p.s also sorry this is quite short! but I will right more soon because I am loving this so far ★)

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backstory- you are the 5th member of Tokio Hotel and you always thought the love was equally platonic between you and a certain guitarist... but what if that all changed?

"Ready?"

"yeah" I spoke again getting up and waving to the rest of the band, Tom with his newly cleaned hands held the door for me and a small smile pressed onto his face, he followed me behind and directed us out the building to the now mostly empty streets as it was around 9:30pm and not many people hung out in this area of town anyways, the feeling of night air whipping at my skin calmed me, it washed me of all my thoughts for a few seconds, we began to walk to our hotel it was around a twenty minuet walk and all on flat ground so if anything we'd make it in shorter time

"can I have a smoke?" Tom asked breaking the silence for the first time, I stopped walking to grab the packet out my bag and hand him one and get one for myself, I knew I shouldn't have really had another one but after the day I had, it was necessary "thanks" he spoke letting me light it

"no problem" we began our walk again under the flickering streetlights that pierced the night, a few cars ran by and lonely workers who were leaving the offices that surrounded the streets passed us by, my eyes found the profile of the boy next to me, still in his performance clothes and his hair tied in a cap, I was on the side where I couldn't see the lip piercing and without it he looked like a baby

"doing alright there?" his voice snatched me back as he followed his words by laugh

"I'm fine" I spoke back trying to look now anywhere but him "are you doing alright?" I spoke back

"of course, never been better!" a sarcastic tone laced his voice but I knew it wasn't intended at me "you know... I will always look out for you Y/n, especially from him- its cliche but" his steps halted, I turned myself to look at him again, our eyes locked together

"its not fair that you had to do it though Tom thats the point" i spoke, removing myself from his gaze with a serious expression "I am grateful, I am, but none of it should've happened! its bullshit" i felt myself getting angrier by the second but I couldn't stop myself

"but it's not your fault, its nobodies fault but his Y/n" Tom began following me as I picked up my pace "and plus were fine, we aren't the ones who have a broken nose and maybe a rib- who knows" I ignored his quips and kept going focusing on the mismatched patterns on the street "Y/n!" he called "slow down I can't go that fast" I stopped still not facing him, I felt if I looked at him all my emotions would spill out and it couldn't happen again. I felt Tom's hand press the small of my back and I turned around to face him, fighting back tears as I saw the look in his eyes that threatened to break me "please don't be upset"

"how can I not be upset, not fucking only did I have to see my ex in the audience but...his fucking face- and why the fuck did he look sad! . then you, Bill and Georg fucked him up and...and what if Felix is right- what if it gets out 'Tokio Hotel beats fan' and what story will he fucking tell?! and it is my fault- I should've never got with him, i don't know what to fucking do with myself. the media still think me and him are together, daily I get tagged or sent pictures of me and him saying 'Y/n and Brian are so cute' or 'Y/n and Brian are so that' and it kills me! I want to scream and yes you were right Tom, I do hide my feelings and that little fucking pathetic cry I had earlier was only fucking some of it!" my voice shook as I only got louder, Tom watched, eyes analysing everything I did

"Y/n you cannot blame this all on yourself! you didn't cause it, yes you did date Brian but that isn't your fault that dick came tonight!" Toms voice matched mine "you can't seriously think that-"

"You don't fucking understand Tom! fuck you get different girls every god damn night- fuck them and leave them and you're seen as this sexy guy! you haven't been in a relationship since Savour and that didn't go well did it? so you don't get it! You'll never understand the shit I feel right now!" I screamed shoving his body away from me, he looked shocked, eyes narrowing

"And what?! yes I fuck girls but I'm fucking looking out for you and trying to understand its not my fault you are to much of a fucking bitch to actually talk to us about it!" his words caught me off guard "I want you to be okay! but all you're doing is smoking like a fucking chimney and shoving me away literally!" with that I spun on my heal and walked away from him again, I couldn't get my head straight "don't fucking walk away!" I flipped him off and herd him groan "Y/n come on!"

after that I never looked back- keeping my head down and ignored the comments random people said on the streets about my clothes and my 'pretty little face'. I finally saw the flashy lights of our hotel and pushed the door open to a friendly looking desk women clicking away at a computer

"hiya darling what can I do you for?" she spoke glaring up at me with green glasses perched near the end of her nose

"I have a room under the name Y/l/n" she nodded and typed along the keyboard

"mhm.. okay yes your luggage was dropped earlier by a huge bus with like hundreds of other stuff..." she trailed off " here is your key number 486 on the 4th floor and if you need anything don't be afraid to give us a call" the ginger lady spoke passing me my key

"thank you..." I went to walk to the lift before I saw the door open again and a panting Tom fell through "fuck" I hummed going into the metal doors of the lift

"Y/n come on... shit" he growled "hold the door" I saw him jog toward me and I stuck my arm out before the doors could close "thanks" and all I did was raise my eyebrows, the ride up to the 4th floor felt like an eternity, stood in silence besides the slight clipping of the metal shaft

'floor number 4' the intercom spoke revealing a long corridor barren bar a few plants potted by doors, I walked out closely followed by Tom who had just caught his breath, I looked at the numbers passing by until I finally saw mine near the end, I slipped my key into the hole and turned it open, the room was small but large enough to keep me for the night, one double bed, a tv, small make up desk and a bathroom with a huge mirror

"you can go now" I spoke to Tom who was standing outside my room hands in his pockets staring at me

"no" is all he answered with "we need to talk, and I mean properly talk" I shook my head

"not tonight" I saw his face soften "I just... I can't Tom"

"okay... tomorrow?"

"maybe" I spoke back to which he breathed and opened his arms calling me in for a hug- even if we had the worst argument, wanted to murder each other, we'd always hug each other it was just one of those. I walked into his arms and they curled around my hip pulling me tightly, my forehead landed into his neck to which he rested his head on top

"I love you" Tom whispered pressing a light kiss to the top of my head

"love you too"

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RING RING RING

my heart stopped hearing my phone go off next to me in bed, I squinted trying to avoid the bright light that was now illuminating my room 'Mom' I sighed happily and picked the phone up holding it to my ear "hello" my voice was groggy and full of sleep but I tried to sound as awake as I could for 5:25am

"hi sunshine! how are you?" she spoke and I could feel the smile through the phone

"I'm okay, tired but all good here, how about you?"

"well we're missing you, your sister has been asking when her big sister will be home, oh darling- how are the boys? they doing good to I hope" hearing the mention of my sister warmed me, my mini me, my little Stella, she was only 2 and was just the best thing in the whole wide world to me, her cute little blonde curls that decorated her head and her bright green eyes, she was gorgeous

"ah I miss her so much, tell her soon I only have one more show and its a day show so I could try be home today to see her, and the guys are good, me and Tom walked back last night from the show- but nothing really interesting has happened since- how's home?"

"well, I've been spending a lot of my days cleaning, playing dress up with Stella and cooking dinner so not at all fun compared to what you're doing sweetie... but I did call you to ask something" her voice went serious, she never had these sorts of conversations with me unless something bad happened "so I was speaking to Tom last night-"

"Tom who?" my heart dropped "Kaulitz or not?"

"mhm, Kaulitz and he said to me-" my stomach dropped she doesn't know yet, I didn't have the mind to say to her that me and Brian broke up, she admired him... "well he asked if me, your father, Stella, his family, Georg and Gustav's family would like to come see your show today as it being a day show we can bring Stella and I think she'll love it, I mean you remember when she sat in the practise studio and clapped when you and Bill gave her the show of a life time" thank fuck

"OH! Oh my god yes that would be amazing! yes do come" I called, my sleepiness soon going into adrenaline realising I get to see my family again after a month "and of course I remember performing for Stella, she loved it, oh but please mom come" I herd her laugh and shift herself in whatever seat she was in

"okay darling we will- I'll best leave you for now and I'll see you tonight, love you sunshine!"

"love you mom see you later" the line ended and I did a lying down happy dance, I was ready to preform that second, I couldn't contain my excitement, I quickly got up running from my room to go to the room of the guitarist, my knuckles going red from hitting so hard

"fuck I'm coming my god-" as the door opened I ran into his arms "woah what the fuck!"

"thank you so much!" I chanted squeezing him tightly, I pulled away and his face went from looking scared shitless to a shy grin

"shit I thought you were a crazy fan or something Y/n, and why are you thanking me?" he wrapped his arms around me relaxing

"inviting mom and dad and Stella and everyone else, just... ahh I can't wait!" we pulled apart and I started jumping around "I get to see my Stella!"

"Oh no problem, I thought she'd love to see our show as were her favourites, obviously" he smiled, scratching his head- for the first time I actually looked at Tom properly, I realised he was in his boxers which fit in all the right places according to him and nothing else besides the necklace he wore every day... thats also when I realised I was still in my little black number with a sheer mesh top just about reaching my thighs

"I can't get over it!" I laughed perching myself on his bed

"scuff what I said yesterday, tonight will be the best show we ever do" he walked over to the other side of his bed and lay back down, one arm resting on his stomach and the other went behind my back and held my hip giving me a feeling I'd never had before from Tom- butterflies.

"oh absolutely" i huffed "I am like completely awake now"

"good, well I mean we've gotta go in like an hour ish for rehearsal" I nodded relaxing more into the spongy mattress, we sat there in comfortable silence, his hand still holding me ".....im sorry for last night- not for the fight- the way I spoke to you.. It wasn't right, I was so close to just knocking on your door and saying this all but I had a feeling you would beat me up if I tried" he laughed looking up to me causing me to do the same

"so you take back calling me a 'fucking bitch'?" he nodded

"yep- all of it. I think I was just... worried for you, you know how much I care about you and seeing you looking upset all day was just... ugh I don't even know"

"I know... I'm sorry I know you were trying but I am just.. a twat really" he rolled his eyes "what?"

"you've only just realised?" he spoke sarcastically, lifting his head from the pillow to look properly at me

"hey!" I shoved him and he nearly fell from the end of the bed, quickly I moved to grab him before he slipped and panic shot though his body

"Y/N!" he called reaching out for me before his body slammed into the floor with a thud "ow"

"Oh- Oh my god! are you okay!? I'm... fuck... I'm sorry" I spoke through stifled laughter as I held my chest, Tom sat back up and rubbed his back, I have no clue what made be laugh harder but I fell stomach first on to the bed and belted out another cackle hearing Tom join it with me

"you are such a fucking idiot!" he called scruffing my hair, I got back up leaning up on my elbows, he still on the floor, when we sat like this our faces were only a few inches away and the room fell quiet, smiles still spread across our faces. I watched his eyes, those brown eyes there is something bewitching about them. They can be warm and inviting, or mysterious and brooding, they flickered between my Y/C/E eyes and my lips giving me a nervous ache through my body "I meant what I said before that all though Y/n" my name coming from his pierced lips made me feel different then any other time "I care about you so fucking much it's crazy-" the tension between us grew, he leaned in closer to me, my heart racing with excitement. the only source of light emanating from a small lamp on the bedside table which just about illuminated his face but i could see the meaning in his movements as his hand reached to cup my jaw, he drew me closer, our foreheads knocking together "I want to kiss you right now" he spoke in a whisper, it was just loud enough for me to hear, our eyes flicked back together and though no words left me, he knew exactly what I wanted to say

As he pulled me closer, my heart was beating so quickly, it felt as if it could leap out of my chest at any moment. Our eyes met for a brief moment again before he leaned in and pressed his lips gently to mine. In that moment, time seemed to stand still as I melted into his touch. Every inch of my body was on fire, my mind could only think of Tom, Tom fucking Kaulitz.... who knew I need it so badly. Without breaking the kiss he stood back up and brought me to my knees, his hand holding my face to his, I tangled my arms around his neck trying to get him closer and closer "fuck" I spoke and it came more as a whimper as he tugged gently on my hair, I felt a smirk appear to his face. We pulled away and immediately I felt coldness but I soon melted as he brought my gaze to him

"you don't understand how long I've wanted to kiss you Y/n"

[alisonwritesimagines]

Two is Better Than One ~Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader x König Imagine~

Requested by anonymous:

Hi hi!! Can I please request something with Ghost and König with their gf who's like, kinda high maintenance and a crybaby? THANK YOU AND CONGRATS ON 5K

Summary: Both Ghost and König are back home to you. Even if you tend to be a little too much.

Author’s Note: When I tell you these men are so fine! I will literally let these men do anything to me. Also, why is this the only gif of them together? I'm hoping that the new Call of Duty game or at least the next one to follow the CoDMW2 (2022) will have more of König and Ghost together.

Reader’s Pronouns: She/Her

Warnings: polyamorous relationship, Ghost and König like each other romantically as well because why not, fluff with some angst in the end, praise kink in a way but nothing sexual

Side Note: This is a secondary blog. If you comment a question down below, I will not answer since this is not the main blog. Please send the question to my inbox if you want a response back!

Do not repost this anywhere!

Ghost and König can both agree one one thing. The two of them would do anything for you. Even if it meant having to go to McDonalds at the dead of night just to get fries or run to the nearest store for some ice cream. No matter what, they would do anything for you.

So when they came back home to you, they were happy to just have a quiet day together. You all were in the living room as you snuggled against König on the couch, watching TikToks on your phone. Ghost sat in the recliner chair as he watched the latest football match.

As Ghost watched the match and König slept soundly holding you, the two didn't miss the sound of you sobbing. König woke up quickly before looking over at you.

"What's wrong?" Ghost asked you.

"It's just a sad TikTok," you frowned as you sobbed. Ghost let out a sigh before walking over and taking your phone out of your hand.

"No more for you for now," Ghost said.

"Simon!" You whined.

"No buts. Be a good girl and just cuddle with König. And later, I'll hold you while you watch TikToks again," Ghost ordered. You nodded before turning to König.

Whenever you and your boyfriends would go out, the two tend to be more protective of you from any dangers. The other thing they also tend to do is having to keep you away from all the things you would want for no reason.

"König! Can I please have this plushie?" You asked him as you held up a cute cow Squishmallow.

"You already have a lot of plush toys, meine Liebe (my love)," König tells you.

"Bitte (please)," you pouted at him. You had been practicing a few German words to practice to communicate with König.

"Nein, meine Liebe (no, my love)," König answered.

"But König!"

"If König says no, he says no," Ghost tells you from behind. You jumped a little from Ghost startling you. You turned over and looked up at your other boyfriend.

You gave Ghost the puppy eyes with a pout. You clutched the stuff toy against your chest as you stared up at Ghost. He could see the tears begin to form in your eyes, still always questioning on how you was able to do that.

"If we get this for you, then you're going to have to pay the price later," Ghost tells you. You nodded at him before smiling up at him.

"König."

"Ja?"

"Make sure she doesn't stray away from us," Ghost tells König.

"Come here."

You held onto König before the two of you headed to the aisle with the items you actually needed.

The worst part when it comes to the two or even just one of them having to leave for a mission. Before you three became a throuple, you had met the two when you were still an active solider on duty. However, due to a mission gone wrong, you were honorably discharged. But luckily, you three kept in touch and became a throuple.

"Do you have to go?" You asked, already sobbing a little.

"I'll try to come home as soon as possible," Ghost tells you.

"But then if you leave, then König will have to leave at one point as well," you started to sob.

"Darling, the sooner we go, the sooner we are able to come back," Ghost assures you as he held you in his arms.

"Promise me you'll come home safe," you tell him as you held onto him tightly.

"I promise. I'll come back home to the two of you," Ghost said.

"Liebe, he needs to go," König said. You nodded before pulling away from Ghost. Ghost quickly lifted his mask up a little before leaning down to kiss you quickly on the lips. You kissed him back, tasting a little of your salty tears.

"I love you," you tell him.

"I love you too. I'll see you soon okay?"

"Okay," you nodded. Ghost pulled away before looking over at König before giving him a kiss as well.

König held onto you as you both watch Ghost leave your shared home. You looked up at König before he picked you up. You wrapped your arms around him as he pressed his forehead against yours.

"Let's go watch some movies and have cuddles. Okay?" König asked. You nodded before resting your head onto his shoulder as he carried you over to the living room.

[buriedpentacles]

Reminder that many new-agers and other neo- spiritual cults have appropriated so much from so many different religions. You are not immune to their terminology and ideology!!!

And even if something is an "open practice" (though it's rarely that cut and dry) you should still research the culture and history, you should still know where it originates from and how it has changed because neo- religions LOVE to ignore the true histories to further their agenda.

Think about terms you might use and research them, discover where they come from and if they're actually appropriate to include in your practice.

The western Chakras were appropriated in the 1800s from Hinduism and Buddhism.

Tarot was originally a Northern Italian card deck used to play card games like Tarocchini.

The "Qabalah" many occultists use today is stolen from Jewish Mysticism.

The "sabbat" names in the wiccan (or pagan) "calendar of the year" was mostly taken from Celtic cultures.

Smudging is an important ritual to many Indigenous communities and it is more than just burning some herbs. (Side note: White Sage is very sacred, and overharvested by Westerners)

Runes were part of Germanic languages long before they were used for divination.

Western Astrology stems from Mesopotamia, and Vedic Astrology originates in Hindiusm.

Things like Starseeds and Indigo children stem from the 1970s (not as ancient as new agers like to believe) and are similiar to the concept of fae Changlings - they're also very ableist concepts.

I'm not going to tell you what you can or cannot do or use in your craft. I have no authority and even if I did, I have no way of forcing you to follow it. All I am saying is please listen to these communities and their voices, and consider the history of the things you want to include. Make the best decision you can based on research and consideration, not what you think sounds cool. (Another side note: cultures, religions and communities are not a monolith, there will not always be one "right" answer, but that doesn't mean you get to cherry pick for the answer you want.)

[johnsgunbelt]

Hello!!! I'm a recent follower and just wanted to say I absolutely **adore** the stuff you write and I've binged your entire blog 🥹💕 If you're up for it, could you write something with Ghost where he meets a woman who's *just like him* personality-wise (wary of strangers and untrusting)? (headcanons encouraged!) Thank you so much for all you've written so far, please keep going and have a great day! ☺️💕

Twin - Simon 'Ghost' Riley

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Violence?,Guns?,Fluff

Ghost has always been wary of strangers, he doesn’t trust anyone…But you. When he first met you he could tell, you were just like him.

So a couple years later you guys move in with each other, more so you move into his house so you can look after it while he’s deployed but when he comes home he takes you out to dinner.

He noticed what you noticed, a lady at the bar staring you down like she was telling someone something on the phone about you.

“I don’t trust-” “I know. Just ignore er’ probably talking trash. Look at those split ends.” You nearly spit out your drink as you let out a laugh you leaned over and then you heard it. A gunshot that JUST missed you.

Ghost quickly picked you up and ran to the back of the restaurant. What the fuck happened on that mission?

“I knew something was off!” “How are you not fucking terrified you nearly got shot!?!” “Dad used to be a cop, been to the shooting range a couple of times-Not the point! How the fuck do we get out of here?” Ghost rolled his eyes

“Right..There’s that window right there? If we crawl out we should be fine. Will probably take us around the back.” You nodded, “You should probably go first and also tell Price about this later…” He went out the window and reached for your hand and pulled you out and carried you down the block.

“I will tell Price, can you call an uber?” “Yeah thank god we didn’t take a car I would’ve been so pissed.” Ghost scoffed. “You’re like a mini me.” “Shut up, no I'm not..” You finished up with the uber and Ghost passed the phone and it was Price.

“Jesus, are you okay? Ghost told us what happened-” “Blonde hair…Split ends like 5’4? Brown eyes. Does that help?” “Oh-Actually yeah thank you..” You talked for 5 minutes then handed the phone back. Thank god the uber showed up, you get bored quickly.

Ghost and you like the same shows,foods,And you practically have the same emotions. It was like you were just the female copy of him. It was terrifying how accurate your emotions were.

“Si! Can you get me-” “Chips? Got it.” “Thank you!” You didn’t know how he knew but he did and you loved that. 

You guys did buy a german shepard, his name is Rocky and at first Ghost didn’t want him but he trained the dog to attack on command so now he likes him.

You both love coffee. BLACK coffee. It can never have anything too sweet in it or you’ll both hate it. 

Has definitely listened to all your playlists and loves them, lets you have AUX cord a lot.

One time on an undercover mission he let you drive all of them to the designated spot they needed to be able to see the target at.

“God, I hate these missions.” Soap complained and Price rolled his eyes. “And I hate you Soap, were here lower your voice!” “Okay mini Ghost.”

You glared back at him from the front seat and Ghost turned around and tried to tell him in a hand motion to shut up!!

“We can end this early and I will come back there and kill you myself.” “I-You know what my bad I’m sorry Mrs.Riley.” You turned your attention to the window and watched for the target. You liked the ring of “Mrs.Riley”

“You know what Si-” “Yes, we will look at ring’s later.” “Okay good, at that one store-” “Yes the one at the mall you like.” Soaps jaw dropped.

“You aren’t married?” “We are by paper and have been for 2 years, we just have to do an event and get rings.” Ghost spoke up and you smiled a little. You loved this life no matter how crazy it really was.

YAYYY I LOVED THIS!! MAKING AN AU FRFR!!!!!! 😻

[babyhatesreality]

Hi if you take request I just have this in my mind:

Sometimes when you are somewhere outside (like in a mall) you get distracted by all those people and colorful stores. And if you don’t hold your daddies hands you will easily go another way.

So what if she is to distracted by something and Steve and Bucky just further without noticing that she didn’t follow (maybe they are stressed or smt like that) and she just follows someone who looks like one of her daddy’s and she only notices later that this was not her daddy and she was lost.

Okay so first things first, I'm old and don't know how to put the two similar asks together nicely so here’s a screenshot and get off my lawn. :P (edited to add: Also for @justme1234456 who requested this too!<3)

Second, I had to alter both asks a bit to align it with what I see as canon in my AU. I really hope that’s okay, and I’m sorry if this isn’t what you were looking for. I have to be honest about what I think could actually happen in this little world I’ve created otherwise I just can’t write it truthfully. If that offends anyone, I’m truly sorry for hurting feelings, and I encourage you to find what you’re needing with many of the other insanely-more-talented-than-I-am writers on this site. 

Break Away

Pairing: Daddy!Stucky x little f!reader

Warnings: DDLG (SSC), language, pet names, praise, scared reader, angst, tears, large and pushy crowds, overprotective Papa and Daddy, fluff fluff fluff and did I mention fluff? 

YOU ARE RESPONSIBLE FOR YOUR OWN MEDIA CONSUMPTION. THIS STORY IS SFW- THE REST OF MY BLOG IS NOT NECESSARILY SO. MINORS DNI. I DO NOT CONSENT FOR MY WORK TO BE STOLEN, COPIED, OR TRANSLATED ONTO ANY OTHER SITE BUT MY OWN. Likes, comments and reblogs are deeply appreciated. 

What started as a nice walk in the park quickly turned into one of their worst nightmares. 

It had been raining for days in New York. Normally you wouldn’t have minded, having a massive pile of toys to play with and books to have read to you, and an endless supply of other family members in the tower to keep you entertained. But you were fidgety, constantly needing to be on the move. Your daddies had taken you to the big gym floor and set you loose on the giant running track, they’d taken you to the Olympic-sized indoor pool, and they’d even managed to convince Tony to let them take the Quinjet on a quick spin around the state. All of which managed to keep you satisfied...for that day. Then the next day they’d find you with your nose pressed up against the sliding glass door to the patio, watching the pouring rain, asking politely if you could go outside. Four thousand times in a row. 

Finally the rain let up right before your bedtime, and the ground became okay enough to not be a giant puddle by morning. You were so excited about going outside, wiggling around so much, that Bucky later grumbled to Steve that it had been easier escaping from the German army than getting you into your coat and rain boots. 

“We goin’ to the park, we goin’ to the park, we goin’ to the PAAAAAAAAAAARK!!!” you sung at the top of your little lungs, running back and forth with joy as you held onto Steve and Bucky’s hands, walking through the hallways of the tower. You squealed in delight when they both lifted their arms in tandem, swinging you into the air. “Again again please!!” you begged, laughing uproariously with delight when they obliged. 

Steve grinned down at you as you giggled gleefully. He was craving the fresh air just as much as you were and felt as joyful as you did. “Okay, so when we get to Central Park, what are you going to do, angel?” he asked you. 

“Hold your hand always!”

“That’s my smart girl. You hold my hand or Daddy’s hand at all times. And what happens if we get separated and you don’t see us?”

“Look for a ‘Venger to help!” 

“Right again! I’m so proud of you!” You giggled and blushed, wiggling around extra hard to let Papa know how happy his praise made you. “Now. Last one. If you don’t see someone who can help you, what do you do?”

“Light up shoes and stay PUT!”

“Great job, baby!” Steve cheered, suddenly swinging around and lifting you up into the air while you laughed crazily. All the littles in the Avengers Tower had light up shoes with tiny trackers in them, so if anything ever happened to them outside the tower and they were in little space, they’d always have a tracker on them that a caregiver could follow. It wasn’t too hard to convince any little to wear the shoes that lit up when they stomped; in fact, you all had gone through several pairs of light up shoes, delighted at the light up features. Hey, the system worked. 

Bucky grinned at the two of you, reaching back out for your hand the moment your feet touched the ground. “Good job remembering the rules, Trouble,” he said. You wiggled with joy and blushed again, making him chuckle. He looked up at his husband. “You sure you wanna try this without caps and glasses?” he asked again, raising his eyebrows. “No disguises at all?”

Steve smile warmly at his worrywart husband. “We’re not undercover, Buck. We live in this city too, and everyone already knows it anyways. It’ll be okay, and if it’s not, we’ll just ask people to respect our space or we’ll go a different direction. It’ll be fine.”

Bucky kept the smile, but tightened his grip on your hand. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A little while later, the three of you were enjoying the birds singing, the fresh, cool breeze blowing through the trees, and the hum of human activity all around you. It was so lovely, it seemed like everyone in New York City was trying to get outside to see the sun. You held tight to your daddies’ hands, but your head was constantly whipping around, trying to take in all the sights at once.  

Suddenly, there was a scream in the distance. Bucky and Steve’s heads snapped in the direction of the sound automatically, their grips tightening on yours. Out of nowhere, this group of seven or eight teens came barreling at the three of you, all with their phones out, screaming about Captain America and The Winter Soldier. With the speed of light, Bucky tucked you underneath his vibranium arm, cuddling you against his body to keep you safe. This meant you had to let go of Papa’s hand, and you tried to turn your head to make sure he was okay, but Daddy’s grip on you was too strong and you couldn’t see him. 

Before you knew it, the crowd grew suddenly larger, and you heard people pointing at the group of teens in recognition- they were something called a...’influencer’ or a ‘TikTok star’ or something...you didn’t understand all the yelling. You got very, very still, hanging desperately onto Daddy’s shirt as he tried to be polite- Avengers had an image to maintain, especially the ‘reformed’ ones like him- but get these people to back off. 

One of the boys grabbed onto the vibranium arm that was holding you, screaming about how cool it was. It scared you so badly, not seeing this boy until his hands were reaching right where you were at and the loudness, that you stumbled backwards, causing you to slip out from underneath Bucky’s arm.

 Bucky’s head whipped around the second he lost contact with you. “Steve!” he hollered over the melee as he tried to move the kid away from you. “Get her!” All you caught was a glimpse of Steve’s searching blue eyes before a tidal wave of people crashed into you. It was insane- some sort of mob mentality had taken over. Between the two famous Avengers and the internet sensations surrounding them, everyone lost their minds. You tried to push against the tide, tried desperately to keep your eyes on either of them, but the crush of the crowd was too much. Your throat choked up in fear- you couldn’t even call out for them. You were carried away by the wave. It seemed to go on forever and you couldn’t stop it as it pushed you farther and farther away. 

Finally there was a break in the people that had been crowding you, and you pushed with all your might to get free of the mob. Trying to keep calm and be brave, you looked around, remembering Rule #2 as hard as you could. Your heart leapt when you saw a long mane of red hair a distance away, and you instantly ran towards it, thinking it was Aunt Natasha. Just as you were about to throw your arms around the woman, she suddenly turned. It wasn’t Auntie Nat. You mumbled an awkward apology and ran in the other direction, embarrassed. 

Gulping hard to try to keep your scared sobs inside, you came to a halt. You looked around and didn’t see anything you recognized. There was a pretty, tall fountain with an angel on top close to you, but you didn’t remember it from before. “Light up shoes and stay put,” you whispered to yourself. “Light up shoes and stay put.” You stomped your feet as hard as you could, seeing the rainbow lights activate. You looked around desperately, waiting for them to come and rescue you. You stomped harder and harder, the tears building in your eyes. No Papa. No Daddy. You slowly walked the few steps to the fountain and carefully sat down, the tears now running down your face. Every now and then, you stomped your feet to keep the shoes lit up. “Please find me,” you whispered tearfully, pleading into the air. 

Suddenly, there were shrieks and gasps coming from in front of you. You looked up to see people suddenly rushing to the sides, looking like they were dodging to get out of the way of a speeding train. And they were. A speeding train in the form of Daddy. 

Bucky came racing towards you faster than you’d ever seen anyone run. You could almost see the flames coming off his feet. The crowd parted for him, but he didn’t give two flying fucks if he ran any of them over. With barely a bend of the knees, he came flying over the stone balustrade walls surrounding the fountain, his eyes locked on your tiny form. All you could do was reach your hands to him before he reached you, scooping you up and crushing you to his chest like he was never going to let you go again. 

You just clung to him, still too frightened to do anything else. “Hey, it’s okay baby, it’s okay, Daddy’s here. Daddy’s here and he’s not letting you go,” Bucky was murmuring into your ear, so fast you could barely make out the words. “I am so sorry baby. Daddy will never let that happen again, you hear me? Never again. Never, never again. I’m right here.” You just whimpered and nodded, your tears soaking the front of his shirt. You heard another set of feet come to a screeching halt near you, but you were still too worked up to turn to see if it was Papa. You knew if it wasn’t, Daddy was going to keep you safe, and that was all you could handle at the moment. “Deep breaths, baby, can you do that for me? Can you take some deep breaths?” Daddy asked frantically, tilting his head back to look at you. “Can you take some deep breaths with me? Some deep breaths with Daddy?” You managed to nod again, and relief flooded his face. “That’s my good girl. Okay, we’re gonna sit down and take some breaths together.”

Bucky sat on the edge of the fountain where he’d found you. He turned you in his lap so you could see Steve sitting next to the both of you. Your left hand shot out instantly, needing to touch him too. Steve took your hand, covering it with his other, stroking and patting it, his eyes a warring storm of fear and relief, while Bucky held you tight, 

“Okay, baby, let’s breathe together. You remember how we breathe when we’re scared?” Daddy asked, looking down at you, his tone a bit calmer now. You could see he was still struggling too, and that gave you the nudge to be brave enough to breathe together. You nodded. “We can do it. We’ll do it together, Daddy and Baby. Okay, here we go. Breathe in.” You two locked eyes and breathed in, Bucky counting as he inhaled. “One, two, three, four,” he said on the air, then nodded at you. You held your breath with him as his lips moved, counting to four again, but not letting any air out. “Breathe out, one, two, three, four, five, six,” Bucky said, keeping his eyes locked on you while you went through the exercise together. He silently counted to six as you held your breath again. You went through the cycle three times together, feeling better and better each time. When you finished, Daddy smiled proudly at you. “I knew you could do it, Baby. Daddy loves you so much.”

“Love you too Daddy,” you said, tucking your forehead into his chest again, happy that he was okay now too. You brought Papa’s hand up to your face. “Love you too Papa.” You squeezed his fingers, pressing them in to your cheek.

“Papa loves you so much,” Steve responded, his voice tight with emotion. “Are you okay honey?” You pursed your lips for a moment, but nodded. 

“M’okay. Big peoples.”

“Yeah, that crowd was crazy, right?”

“Too loud.”

“Definitely too loud. I’m so sorry baby, that should never have happened.”

“They all go away?”

“Yeah, they’re all away now. You remember how Uncle Tony says that he can watch everybody everywhere?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, he saw on his cameras that the mean crowd was bothering us and his flying suits came to help.”

“WOW.”

“We’ll have to thank him when we get home.”

“Okay, I help.”

Both your daddies chuckled, relieved that you were starting to sound like you again. “What do you think, Baby? Do you want to go home?” Bucky asked, bouncing you a little, trying to gauge how you were feeling. 

“Um,” you said. Now that you were over the fear, you weren’t QUITE ready to be back inside just yet. “We look at duckies please?” The men exchanged a quick look, checking in with each other, before they turned back to you, smiling. 

“Okay, Trouble, we will go look at the ducks,” Bucky said softly, before placing a kiss on your forehead. “Good manners.” He stood up and was about to tell you that you were only staying at the park if he carried you for the rest of the day, but the iron grip you had on his tee shirt and the way your legs locked around his waist let him know that you had no intention of being set down, anyways. He pressed another kiss into your hair. 

They walked to a quieter section by the water, grinning and laughing as you insisted on pointing to each and every duck, naming them one by one. After about ten minutes, Steve got a pedicab to get you all back to the street so you wouldn’t have to walk through all the people again. You’d made a full recovery by the time you all got back to Avengers’ Tower, babbling excitedly about all the ducky friends you’d made today and making plans to bring them bread tomorrow.

But Bucky still didn’t set you down for the rest of the evening. And you were okay with that. 

[edbluemel]

𖤓˚𓅆𓇢𓆸 navigation ⋆.˚𝄞⨾𓍢ִ໋⋆☾

☼𓋼𓍊 𓆏𖧧 hi I'm caitlyn! ˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗ -ོ 𓅰

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☆ mutuals: also here

If we’re moots, ILY (even if we’ve never talked!!) p.s please don’t be scared to message me whenever, I don’t bite. We can be awkward together akdjfjjd!!! I wanna hear about the things you love or whatever you wanna scream/fan girl about or how your day’s going or literally anything you want to tell me!! I care and I want to listen !! ♡ anyways thanks so much for following me and I’m glad we somehow found each other on this hellsite! Muah!! Sending a big hug your way besties!!!

@28goldens @amalgamads-aneacc @ashleyyroses @bestofcastle @biathecreature @chippythedog @calia-lynn @charliexspring @daomaikeng @delphines @dreamersdivingheadfirst @dxnny-art @esmealux @elliewlliams @evenasyoungastheyare @greenforestworshipper @ghost-roads @haroldsmoon @huggieshalo @holyshit @horancover @harrysmaison @handgf @harrysputa @icarusinterlude @justthinkingaboutlouis @lululawrence @lebesyej @laurenxgerman @lassos-welton @leojfitz @laffertys @laurens-german @lavenderberries @larriescompass @lucy-mclean @mauraeyk @mayasbishop @morningstaraurora @mazykeen @moon-sun-thyme @niallonlyknows @pearlblue2 @pocketsized-healer @pop-punklouis @sason-judeikis @suesheroll @salvatoreselena @stedelasso @sneaky-salty-bitch @stayprettyandsmile @starrynightniall @sunshineysprinkles @sharpesjoy @softcherubhips @seeleybooth @sunmoonandrainbows @sthabit @sunsmile-lou @tomlinshires @thelarrielouie @trixiedeckerstar @toherlover @useryoumna @useragarfield @violet-bridgerton @welllbeafineline @wecantalktomorrow @wendersfive @youkilledpetunia @zourried

*if you're on this list and confused why I tagged you it's bc you follow one of my sideblogs lmao

☆ about me:

pronouns: she/her

animal & nature lover, directioner since 2011 (ot5), biologist and photographer by day - fangirl blogger at all other times, scorpio

music: love pop, rock, lofi, really just anything tbh, I'm literally always listening to music ALWAYS

shows: castle, lucifer, obx, ted lasso, young royals, virgin river, sex education, psych, adow, heartstopper, bridgerton, & sooo many more

movies: the little mermaid, anyone but you, pride & prejudice, sleeping with other people, la la land, the greatest showman, shazam, narnia, barbie & a ton more

watch list/to read list: NEVER ENDING (but listen...I am always open to suggestions...honestly please send me reccs I would absolutely love to hear what you guys have to say/what you're currently into)

drafts/queue: also never ending (the struggle is soooo real being in so many fandoms afsjjgk)

I’d love to make more friends on here, please say hi! I'd love to talk & make new friends (although I suck at replying quickly akjdfl but I def still wanna chat w you)

[lady-raidia]

Hi my fellow german ♡

If you're up to, I'd love to request a Gil-Galad x reader writing (: I'm so sad that there is still not much out there. Something fluffy like love at first sight or first kiss (or both haha)

Thank you so much in advance!♡

Hey there! 💗 I am so sorry that you had to wait such a long time for me to respond! :( I was suffering from a writers block and I couldn't write anything for months :'( But I am back and I am trying to catch up! I hope that you enjoy this One-Shot (or maybe two shot hehe) even though it ended up a little bit shorter than I wanted to. But I will try to write a part 2 for this one, so we can have more Gil-Galad content hehe. Again, I am so sorry that you had to wait for such a long time! And I am sorry if my english sounds weird in the story :o But please enjoy! 💗💗

FOREST HEART - GIL-GALAD IMAGINE

Pairing: Gil-Galad x Reader

Summary: You are an old friend of Galadriel and visit her in Lindon, where you wander off into the forest. You just wanted to enjoy the nature but you found a hidden treasure that will change your life.

Warnings: None, just some Gil, snobby language and bad english.

Request Here / Masterlist

Nestled amidst ancient trees and shimmering waters, you have lived a life full of peace and harmony. You had chosen this life, far from Lindon, to escape the gossip and side-eyes you would get when passing by other elves who knew you were not like them. Your father was an elf, but your mother was of the race of men. She was the most beautiful woman you have ever seen but the fragility of a mortal life took her away from you. After her passing, your father followed her into death, since his heart couldn't bear the grief and loss it had suffered.

You grew up in a small cottage close to Lindon, the place your mother and her mother were born and raised. It was your sanctuary, your haven, and as a child, you thought Valinor must have looked exactly like your home. Even after your parents passed away you stayed at that small cottage to care for the garden your mother cherished so much.

Even though you lived your life far from others, you still had close friends you have known since childhood. One of them was Galadriel and you would refer to her as your best friend. You held her dear in your heart and even though you hadn't seen each other for centuries, you regularly wrote letters to each other. You would usually write about how your garden is growing and that the birds are nesting again, while Galadriel would entertain you with the adventures she had been on. (If you can call it an adventure. She is trying to hunt down orcs to find Sauron and with each letter you get from her it becomes apparent that she is slowly losing her mind. You are worried for your friend because she seems too fixated on Sauron being still alive.)

A couple of days ago you received an invitation to Lindon to celebrate Galadriel and her troop for „freeing the world of all evil“. You were happy to hear that her efforts to hunt down every orc are finally being acknowledged! And you wouldn’t be her friend if you wouldn’t tend that celebrations! So with a mix of excitement, worries and nostalgia you went on the journey towards Lindon.

When you arrived, Galadriel greeted you with open arms and a radiant smile on her face! It must have been decades the last time you have seen each other. But before you could talk about old memories and laugh about the shenanigans you did when you were children, she introduced you to Elrond, the herald of the High King. He offered to guide you around since Galadriel had business to do and while he was giving you a small history lesson that wasn’t really anticipating, he also warned you to not get too deep into the forest. For someone who doesn’t know the woods very well it is easy to get lost in them. And the last thing Elrond wants is to lose you and having Galadriel yelling at him for not paying attention. You had to promise to not go on your own and to always stay in the city. And you really wanted to keep that promise. You really did.

The days before the celebration you tried to spend as much time with Galadriel as possible. But she still had some duties she had to attend to, so she would usually leave you alone in the evening. It is your third evening here in Lindon and you already wish to be back at your small cottage. Elves aren’t a noisy folk but still it seemed like their voices were yelling at you. All the people, the talking, the faint music in the distance - you weren’t used to it, so for that moment it was just too much for you. You needed a moment of silence and since you arrived in Lindon it seemed like the trees were talking to you. You remembered the promise you’ve made and said to yourself that you would only walk for a bit - not too far off, so you can easily find a way back. Also, you have the senses of an elf, so nothing could go wrong.

With a sense of childlike wonder, you ventured off the path that was before you and headed straight into the woods. The forest with its towering trees, vibrant flowers and singing birds, mesmerized you and you have totally forgotten the words of Elrond. With each step you take, you get further away from the city but closer to the calmness of your soul.

Lost in the magic of the moment, you failed to notice the sun slowly going down and being replaced by a soft darkness.

„Beautiful isn’t it?“ Suddenly, a voice broke through the silence of the trees, dragging you back to reality. Startled, you turned to find a men standing in front of you with a gentle smile on his face. His presence was both mysterious and comforting. You have seen his face before, many years ago, but you can’t remember who he was. Maybe a friend of your father?

„Indeed. While the soil here might look like any other forest, it is made of hope and wishes from those who have walked here before us." You spoke softly while maintaining your gaze on the man in front of you.

He came a few steps closer to you with a light smile on his face. „It has been a long time since someone recognized Lindon's beauty. Too many became used to its sight and stopped wondering what miracles it might hold.“ You listened carefully to his words and nodded „But it seems you are not from Lindon. Lost, perhaps?“

„Galadriel is a friend of mine, and I am not lost. My feet tend to carry me places where my heart wants to go but my thoughts are too afraid of.“ The man before opened his mouth to share his thoughts with you but was interrupted by the voice of Galadriel who came running towards you.

„Y/N you shouldn’t be here!“ She looked at you and then made eye contact with the dark-haired elf in front of you. „I apologize! Y/N is a visitor and a friend of mine, my king.“ You nearly tripped over a root when you heard your friend address that man as „my king“. The reason his face was so familiar is because he is the High King of the Noldor, Gil-Galad.

Galadriel drags you away from him before you have a chance to speak, scolding you for being so careless. You apologized to her several times and felt that by not addressing him by his title, you had offended the king. In fact, he felt no offense at all. The thought of your conversation still lingered in his mind as he watched you and Galadriel walk away. Whenever his shoulders are unable to bear the weight of the crown, he retreats into the forest to enjoy the silence. Usually, the elves of Lindon don’t go that far into the woods so he can be on his own. But today, you were carried deeper into the woods by your own feet without a care in the world. For a while, Gil-Galad watched you admire the flowers and trees while the last light of the setting sun was reflected in your eyes. He was in awe and for the first time in his long life, he didn’t have the courage to speak. But when darkness slowly reached out, he talked to you and he was immediately enchanted by your voice and words. He always thought that he had lost his heart in the woods but it seemed that you found it. Now it is up to you if you want to claim it for yourself.

To be continued 💗

@fenharel-enaste @starlady66 (I am back, I hope it is okay I tagged you guys again! :) )

[currantlees-creative-corner]

Sternentreue (Colored Version)

"It's a promise..."

I said I was going to color this one, wasn't I? 😊 So here it is, in all it's colorful glory (and I made the Inktober version my new blog header). I tried how the more cel-ish shading I did for some of my inktober pieces works with color, and I'm overall extremely happy how it turned out!!

For all those who haven't seen the original (and are too lazy for following the link), Sternentreue is the German name of Oathkeeper / Yakusoku no Omamori. I love this name because there is something really poetic about it: literally translated it means loyalty of / to the stars, but more figuratively, it can be interpreted as staying true to one's (chosen) destiny / promise.

Also, thanks to everyone who liked and reblogged / shared the original. I was stoked to see so many of you liked it, so... Thank you so, so much! 💗

As always, please reblog on Tumblr instead of reposting! I'm okay with having my work reposted on other social media sites that I'm not on, as long as I'm credited (ideally by linking my blog or my main). Do not claim my creative work as your own! Thank you 💜

[shirk-ethic]

some studies in revolution

Hello! This is a sideblog dedicated to history and theory of revolutions: what they are, how they're made, what happens when they succeed and fail. It is probably going to be made up of analysis and quotes and is intended to kind of "keep me honest" about doing some actual intellectual work in the midst of life's drudgery. I also think that my grounding in revolutionary theory is personally inadequate and I want to correct that.

To start out, it's been a long time since I was actively reading academic history, and I learn history best from listening and taking notes; only reading makes it less "sticky" in my memory. So I'm initially going to use Mike Duncan's Revolutions podcast as a means of marking my progress and giving some focus to the project, as well as providing a baseline to build notes on which can then be supplemented through more rigorous academic histories.

In tandem with each subject, I plan to read some primary and secondary sources, including relevant writings in revolutionary theory (both from revolutionaries, i.e. Lenin/Fanon/Robespierre/etc., and from academic sociologists or historians, i.e. Skocpol, Barrington Moore, Eric Wolf). Eventually I'll run out of Duncan, so if anyone has other similar podcasts or some lecture series that they think would be useful - especially for historical events after the Russian Revolution - please let me know! Reading recs are also always welcome.

As far as what I'm hoping to cover, I'm going to do something non-chronological and relatively free-form. I definitely want to cover the following:

English Civil War

French Revolution

Haitian Revolution

Mexican Revolution

Russian Revolution(s)

Chinese Revolution

Cuban Revolution

Algerian War of Independence

Iranian Revolution

This is definitely passing over some notable ones but I'm not foreclosing coverage of any particular thing by way of making this list, just kind of giving an indicator of where I'm at right now. I also have some historical interests I'd like to spend more time learning and talking about, like certain Roman revolts (Catiline did nothing wrong) and the German Peasants' War. So maybe after France or Haiti I'll get a wild hair to do a write-up on Thomas Muntzer, or Easter Rising, or Spanish anarchism. I want my focus to mainly be on the seizure of power, and what was done with power once seized, but I'd also like to explore failures, losses, and short-term experiments. I'm most likely going to start with the French Revolution and then possibly double back to the English Civil War when I have some time, and then we'll just see what happens. I will also probably not be doing a ton of military history though I won't avoid it where relevant; it's frequently just not enjoyable for me to talk about in detail. Very much approaching these things from the social/political history angle as much as I can.

If you choose to follow along with this personal project, please feel free to chime in as I hope this can lead to some interesting conversations with other people who care about topics like political radicalism, comparative history, political theory, etc. Who knows what life will bring, but I'm hoping that I'll be able to keep this going for a while.

I may also change the name but I needed something and I thought this was funny.

[tenaciousbouquetearthquake]

It's just what wolves do, pt1

An AU where the boys are a pack of shifters who've been recruited by the British government to fight Nazis. I've borrowed details from Nalini Singh's Psychangeling books in how I've written shifters, so if you notice any similarities, that's why. Also, follow me please and let's be friends. I need more people who read her books to talk to and I need to talk about how much I hated Primal Mirror and how disappointing it was.

Read it on ao3 | Check out the Masterlist

Ch01, Apple and Gus meet at Dunkirk, but leopards and wolves notoriously don't get along with each other and Gus seems to take a special pleasure in annoying Apple. But, you know, shifters are inherently tactile creatures. They require physical and sexual contact to keep their animals under control.

I mean, what can you do? Things to expect: wolf Gus being a pain in the ass to leopard Apple, Gus as a kleptomaniac, Gus has a glasses fetish, and *sex* happening off screen. Because we're keeping it G in this one.

Oh, and Apple mauls someone and Gus severs someone's carotid artery and breaks their neck, and *coughs* okay, it's PG-13. I make no promises about reader/bear!Anders stories being rated PG-13. I might get too excited and write that as smut. I can't help myself. I'm obsessed.

Around 5,000 words.

Dunkirk

***

There isn’t a day that goes by that Apple isn’t glad that he was born a cat. His settles his rifle carefully in position, finger poised on the trigger, and eyes his prey from across a field. From this position, he can not only see him perfectly, even in the pitch black of night, but he can scent him on the wind—sweat and mud and filth, too many days stuck in a trench with no relief while the fight drags on.

Apple knew when he signed up to fight that the war wouldn’t be a picnic. When Apple was sent to Dunkirk, he knew this wouldn’t be an easy fight.

But it’s a necessary one, Apple thinks, and even though he’s not particularly happy with being trapped in a foxhole with—Apple smothers the growl that threatens to escape him and redirects his thoughts away from him. He can’t be distracted, not now, while his prey is moving. His eyes narrow as he watches the German, the shape of him moving in the darkness. He’s a distance away from the rest of the others, fiddling with the buttons on his uniform, moving to undo his trousers and relieve himself. Maybe it’s bad form to kill a man while he’s taking a piss, but then, Apple thinks, it’s his own fault for straying too far from his comrades and a little too far into Apple’s view, and as much as Apple likes to think himself a gentleman and has the title to back it up…he’s not above taking this kill.

Not if it gets him out of Dunkirk a little bit faster.

Not if it gets this war over with a little more quickly.

He holds the rifle carefully, aiming with the sort of precision that only a cat could manage, and feels his eyes shift to full leopard in feline delight. Shifters have always had to curb or control their inner animals in an effort to fit into polite society, but perhaps this is one advantage to war—the only one to be had. Apple doesn’t have to hold himself back anymore, not in this moment. His inner leopard is ready for the kill, muscles tense, every inch of him ready to strike.

The enemy is in the perfect position. His finger begins to tense around the trigger, one delicate move from ending a man’s life. Slowly. Apple paces himself. He takes a breath in. He begins to exhale, his finger curling—there’s a scream in the distance and Apple releases an unearthly growl, a feline snarl from deep in his chest that echoes out into the night as a harsh warning to anyone nearby. “Fuck.”

Somewhere in the distance, Gus howls in wild laughter, his wolf form nearly prancing into view of Apple by the kill. His snout is bloody from where he’d leapt at the German and caught his throat, latching on and sinking his teeth deep into the man’s throat, severing his carotid artery in one go. He’d landed with a quiet, graceful thud, giving his neck one good shake that effectively snapped his neck, before dropping the body where it lay and prancing out into open space.

Apple can see the eyes of his wolf looking toward through the darkness, a silvery glow in the pitch black, wearing an expression only a fellow shifter would recognize—a bloody, toothy grin at having stolen Apple’s prey.

There isn’t a day that goes by that Apple isn’t glad he was born a cat, but he could do without a goddamn wolf to keep him company.

As soon as Gus gets back to the foxhole, there’s going to be hell to pay.

***

Gus lets down his heavy body with a sigh of relief, jingling as he does, grinning that wild, toothy grin of his that drives Apple absolutely crazy. For Gus, it seems like the wolf is always close to the surface, mischievous and dangerous and ready to needle the cat across from him at every opportunity. Perhaps it’s simply that Apple is a cat and Gus is a wolf, and even though they technically belong to the same pack—a band of ruffians and scoundrels and filthy animals who the British government has determined should work together in the war effort—the cat families and the wolf families are always at odds. Perhaps it's that Apple is just a little too buttoned up, a little too proper and pristine in that cat sort of way, always outwardly relaxed as if he doesn’t have a care in the world. Perhaps it’s just that Gus’s mother is right and he’s simply too wild and doesn’t have enough self-control. He was born too much of a troublemaker.

But whatever it is, Gus can’t help himself. Not where Apple is concerned. Not when he can see the leopard glaring out at him from Apple’s eyes as the other man takes a delicate spoonful of whatever flavor of soup is being served to the men tonight, and Gus watches the delicate curves of Apple’s throat as he swallows. He feels the wolf inside of him grow restless, his eyes growing bright. He’s been trying to coax Apple into letting him get closer, to letting him explore the vulnerable curves of his neck and to draw him into some play, but the cat just won’t go for it. And Gus…he’s obsessed. He can’t stop it. Too stubborn to back down, too wild to not chase after he wants with all of his strength, and the wolf wants Apple.

The wolf wants Apple with a need so fierce that it’s practically feral.

“And why,” Apple drawls, eyes of green-gold fixed on Gus over the soup that Gus can tell the cat has no real interest in, “are you jingling?”

Gus huffs out a small laugh. “No reason,” Gus lies, knowing the cat can scent it on him. It’s hard to keep secrets from shifters—you have to be very, very good to hide the scent of lie. Gus has never managed it, although he knows for a fact that Apple can. The wolf in him is fascinated by this. The man is, too.

“I didn’t think stealing was especially common among your kind,” Apple says, voice silky and crisp, a low purr that Gus finds himself leaning into, yet something else about Apple that seems to draw him in. “It doesn’t seem like very wolf-like behavior.”

There’s probably not much that Gus won’t do for that delicate purr in Apple’s voice. He wonders what it would feel like to touch the cat’s fur, to bury his hand in the vibrant gold and black of it and settle his face there and just breathe in the scent of Apple while the leopard purrs against him. It makes the wolf and the man in Gus tempted enough to let go of his already limited restraint and reach out to the cat, just to see what Apple’s skin feels like, to feel his body hum with the quiet vibration of his voice when he speaks. “You haven’t met many wolves, have you, Apple?”

The cat stills visibly and Gus feels his heart skip a beat at the sight of it. Delicious.

“No,” the cat admits. Slowly. Reluctantly. Like a soft stroke down the length of his back, a tease of a touch that leaves the wolf wanting more. Needing more.

The cat may be here to hunt Germans, but the wolf has a different prey entirely on his mind.

“Just wait until you meet my family,” Gus promises, the assumption that Apple will be coming home with him after the war hanging in the air between them, an easy thought that just seems right to Gus. He can imagine his mother’s face as seeing a cat on their doorstep, the chaos of Apple meeting a family of wolves. The wolf can hardly wait. “Pack of thieves, the lot of them. They’ll steal your glasses right off your face if they get the chance.”

The cat doesn’t appear amused by this. It only makes Gus want him more, a desperate need for Apple’s attention, like an itch that needs to be scratched. “I don’t wear glasses,” Apple replies in that silken voice.

Gus’s grin grows as he answers in a low, throaty growl. “That’s too bad,” he replies. “I reckon you’d look good in them, old boy.”

Gus’s fantasy about bringing Apple home to meet his family now includes a pair of gold-framed reading glasses perched on his nose, that dark hair of his swept back, beard and mustache pristine. Gus can’t wait to muss it up, his hands closing with an unconscious need to touch. He silently wonders if he can find a pair of reading glasses for Apple somewhere among the dead Germans before they leave Dunkirk. They won’t need it anymore and Gus is in the mood to play.

And besides, he still has room for more booty in the pockets of his battledress.

***

The idea of an interspecies pack is ludicrous, of course, but it speaks a lot to how the British government views the shifters in their midst. A bunch of animals who can be shuffled around and put together any which way the government decides would be the most useful. Generally, families stick to themselves, species never mixing.

Especially not leopards and wolves.

Apple’s mother would scruff him in an instant if she knew what was going through his mind right now. He watches the wolf pace through the morning fog, the animal’s restless energy visible with each step. Silver and brown and black, moving back and forth with a lupine grace that Apple didn’t even think was possible. His family group, in particular, prefers to remain isolated, even among shifters. Gus is his first exposure to wolves and while he’s tried to remain unimpressed, Apple has to admit to himself that he can see a majestic sort of dignity there. It makes the cat quietly attentive, watching Gus from a distance even when it’s not necessary, just to see the confident gait of the wolf as it lopes through the morning chill, the way his body tenses as he catches a rabbit’s scent and begins to track it. He paces back toward Apple and lowers himself into a play bow, bouncing back and forth on his front paws as he gazes at him.

It's an invitation, Apple knows. For some reason, this wolf has taken a liking to him. Or at least, he’s taken a liking toward irritating Apple at every opportunity.

It’s probably a wolf thing, Apple thinks. Either way, the cat isn’t interested in playing with him. Apple moves swiftly to his feet and grabs hold of his gun, taking two long steps and climbing out of the foxhole. He gazes at Gus for a long moment with the sort of patience that only a feline can muster while Gus grows increasingly restless under his gaze, shifting from one front paw to the other, head lowering and ears perching forward. The look on Gus’s face is imploring, but Apple has never considered himself particularly suited to play. He was raised to be focused on the hunt and nothing else.

There’s a strange feeling low in Apple’s gut as he turns to walk away, leaving behind a confused and whining wolf, head tilted as it watches the cat go. Apple can’t explain why the feeling of walking away from Gus bothers him so much or why the sound of Gus’s whimpers that slowly shift into full howls seem to haunt him, but they do. Perhaps it’s because he’s never been away from his family for this long before, or perhaps it’s because shifters are tactile creatures who ground themselves in the sharing of physical and sexual touch and for Apple, well…it’s been a while.

It's been too long, Apple thinks. That must be it.

He simply needs to find a partner, someone to touch. Someone to touch him in return. Release.

But Geoffrey Appleyard is the only cat in Dunkirk, and while a human would work just as well—shifters and humans have been interbreeding for centuries—Apple isn’t in the mood to explain the intricacies of shifter life and culture to an outsider.

He’ll just have to keep biding his time, he thinks as he walks away. The Battle at Dunkirk can’t last forever. He’ll get away from this place and find someone who can satisfy his need for touch, and then he’ll be back to feeling like his old self again.

Still, Apple can hear the sound of a wolf howling in his ears long after Gus has gone silent and now that Apple is aware of his lack, all he can think about is the desperate need for contact.

***

Gus is getting irritated. They were only supposed to be at Dunkirk for a couple of weeks, that was the information he’d been given. It’s been a month now and he’s still trapped here, and the longer he’s here, the more frustrated he gets. The only time he can shift is late at night or in the earliest hours of morning, before the Germans have good enough visibility to catch sight of him. Gus isn’t used to having his wolf be so restricted, penned into such a small territory and with only a few hours of freedom. Shifters need space to roam and stretch, they need to run and hunt. Most shifters shift between their human and animal forms multiple times a day.

He tugs at the collar of his battledress, undoing the top few buttons, feeling too confined in the uniform. The feeling only gets worse when he gets sight of Apple, his only real ally in this place—the only other shifter for miles. The wolf inside him huffs in annoyance, tensing as he just catches a glimpse of the leopard as Apple prowls in the moonlight. He’s fast, Gus thinks with approval, his eyes going full wolf just to keep sight of him.

Shifters may live separately from each other, and wolves and leopards don’t inherently get along, Gus’s wolf has always been a bit of a rogue and he knows when he sees something he wants. Gus tugs another few buttons loose on his battledress, leaving his shirt and coat open midway down his chest, enjoying the cool night air against his skin as he watches Apple. He has to be feeling it too, Gus thinks. He’s been watching Apple, he knows that Apple is as isolated as he is, and unlike Gus, Apple is wound far too tight. Where Gus has staved off the worst of it by letting his wolf out, Apple is a master of restraint.

But there’s only so long you can smother the animal before it’ll fight to be let out, and there’s only so long Apple can avoid him.

Gus is Gus, however, and wolves never really do know when to leave well enough alone. He tries to track Apple’s whereabouts in the night, but his eyes can’t keep up. Apple is too sneaky, too careful about the way he moves and interacts with his surroundings. He easily disappears into the darkness. The wolf is delighted at Apple’s skill, even if it’s frustrated by not being able to visually track him. Gus will have to rely on scent alone.

Luckily, wolves are excellent scent trackers. Gus can pick Apple out on the first cool breeze, a hint of Apple interlaced with the settling of dew and the thick scent of earth. Gus moves on silent feet, tracking that scent through the darkness, out of the foxhole and pacing carefully around trenches and human soldiers, further back toward a tree line. In other circumstances, Gus would be more careful. In this darkness, in the chaos of battle, it’s not unfeasible that a German or two managed to slip behind their lines, or that somewhere there’s a sniper with a good enough line of sight here. But Gus trusts Apple’s instincts—whatever he’s doing here, Gus scents only Apple, and he knows that Apple would never shift into his leopard form if he thought it would leave him vulnerable.

It turns out that Gus successfully managed to track Apple, but not where Apple is currently prowling. Instead, he finds Apple’s uniform, neatly folded and waiting for Apple to return, creases perfect and without a speck of dirt or wrinkles. Gus can’t help but grin at how perfectly Apple that is. He’s crouching down to indulge in a lupine need to touch, to feel the roughness of the fabric against his fingertips and to inhale the scent of Apple deep into his lungs, to taste it, when it happens.

Apple springs out of the darkness and tackles Gus, rolling him into his back as Apple’s leopard stands above him, pinning him to the ground with paws on either side of his head and the leopard’s heavy body on top of Gus’s human form. From here, Gus can see the fine features of the leopard, even in the darkness, the lines and spots of its face, the delicate whiskers. His lips are rolled back in a snarl, bearing those sharp teeth as Apple growls and hisses in warning, and those green-gold eyes are fixed on Gus.

Gus could live to be a hundred, could meet a hundred leopards or more in his lifetime, and he would still be able to pick Apple out of them now, he thinks.

Magnificent.

“You’re upset, I can see that,” Gus says humorously, giving him a toothy grin. Apple snarls in response, claws digging into the dirt beside Gus’s head, but Gus isn’t bothered by it. At least, not in the way Apple is hoping, he thinks. “In my defense, I was only tracking you to have a conversation. It didn’t occur to me to try and steal your clothes until just now.”

The leopard isn’t amused, especially since it’s not a lie. No, the thought of a naked Apple is now impossible to shake, especially with the leopard on top of him, pinning him to the ground, and Gus is half-wishing that he’d had that plan to start with. It’s a wolfish thing, this need to bother Apple, to annoy him, to demand Apple’s absolute attention no matter what. Apple lets out another low growl, deep from his throat, lowering his face very near to Gus’s, so close that Gus can feel the heat of his breath on his face.

He loves it. The proximity, the danger, the weight of Apple pressing down on his chest, his groin. He feels Apple’s long, elegant tail swish angrily and the weight of Apple’s body shifts just right so that Gus can’t help himself, letting out a moan and grinding his lower body upward against the cat.

Apple growls, but it gradually eases down into something else, and Gus can see that Apple hasn’t missed his reaction. Even if Apple couldn’t scent Gus’s arousal, masculine and predatory, he can feel it underneath him, hard and ready against the cat’s heavy body, and as much as Apple clearly has more control over his cat than Gus tries to have over his wolf…as much as Gus has managed to keep that need at bay…he’s quickly losing all restraint.

“I know you feel it,” Gus says, wolf in his voice, eyes glowing silver in the darkness. From the eyes of the wolf, the cat is glorious. Regal and breathtaking. He has the overwhelming urge to claim it, to claim Apple, for himself. Only for himself. “I know you need it just as much as I do.” The green-gold eyes of a leopard glare down at him in the night and any sane person, human or shifter, would be afraid under that gaze. But Gus isn’t sane—not in this moment, and certainly not where Apple is concerned. Sexual need can make anyone go a little bit mad.

This, however…this goes much deeper than that.

Mate.

Gus has to mentally shut down the thought before it can take too deep a hold in his mind. If that’s what he wants out of Apple, and gods above, it is, he has to play this correctly. Gus the wolf has to out think Apple the cat, or the cat will never give in.

Luckily, Gus can be patient when he needs to be.

“We’re the only shifters here,” Gus continues. Notably, Apple doesn’t stop him, doesn’t shift or blink or snarl again as he stares down at Gus. “We’re the only ones who can give the other what they need.” A huff of air as Apple exhales, Gus’s sweaty curls shifting on his forehead, his face moist from Apple’s breath. “Let me give you what we both need.”

There’s a long, long moment of consideration from Apple, another swish of his tail over Gus’s legs. Those thick, sharp claws dig even further into the dirt beside Gus’s head. It feels like forever that Apple just lays on top of him, forcing him to stay still. Gus hates to stay still.

But for Apple, well…for Apple, Gus can wait. Gus can gamble. Gus can plan and bide his time. Gus will do just about anything, because Gus’s wolf has already decided what it wants and the man is in full agreement.

It happens in the blink of Gus’s eyes, a soft shifting of light, that peculiar sort of magic that no one can explain where one form shifts into another and Apple the leopard is no longer laying atop Gus. Apple the man is stretched naked above him, balanced on arms that are more well-muscled than Gus had been able to guess under the uniform. Gus can see the outlines and shapes of tattoos on his chest and arms, that normally perfect hair of his tousled and loose, lips parted as he takes long, heavy breaths, the leopard still in his eyes.

Gus has never seen a more beautiful sight in all his life.

Apple gazes down at Gus and runs his tongue over his lips. Gus can scent the arousal on him, heady and wild, sexual need with an edge of violence. Delicious.

“Just to take the edge off,” Apple reasons.

Gus grins. “Whatever you need, Apple, old boy.”

The first taste of Apple makes it clear to Gus that this won’t be a one-time thing. It can’t be. The wolf can be reckless—and getting involved with a leopard could certainly be described as such—but it’s also stubborn. So very stubborn.

Gus’s lips connect with Apple’s in a kiss so aggressive that Gus is nearly loss in an immediate overload of sensation. Apple’s tongue in his mouth, the taste of him, his naked weight pressing down on Gus, a growling moan that sinks into a purr and sets Gus’s entire body on edge. It’s exhilarating and addictive and Gus knows he’s hopelessly lost.

The real battle here is no longer for Dunkirk. It’s not even against the Germans.

The battle here is now for Apple.

Gus returns the kiss, letting his hands have free reign to explore Apple as one touch leads to another. One taste leads to another. The wolf and the cat, alone in the night, a symphony of moans and wild sounds as Gus discovers that Apple is the type to leave scratches behind.

That’s alright with Gus, though, because he’s the type who likes to bite in return.

***

The cat is sated. For now. Apple doesn’t think too much on it. Refuses to think too much on it. He can’t remember the last time he heard about a cat and a wolf fucking each other, much less about any shifters who successfully mated or otherwise made a go of it in such circumstances. No, this was strictly out of necessity and convenience. Nothing more, nothing less.

Apple’s leopard has taken to claiming this section of land, prowling it at every opportunity, which isn’t as much as the cat wants, but it’ll have to do. At least there are trees here, he thinks. Places to climb, to see from so he can survey his territory. At least there are small animals to track and hunt, creatures that haven’t quite been scared off from the sounds of war. At least the underlying need for contact is gone, set aside for now.

Apple can scent Gus on himself as he moves carefully over the landscape, eases between trees and bushes, around rocks and foxholes and trenches, without being seen by anyone. The cat should be bothered by it, but it isn’t. Perhaps, Apple thinks, it’s because of the unfamiliar territory, because they’re both so isolated from everything they know, all the people who belong to them. Isolated from their homes and their packs.

When you’ve lost all sense of direction, all sense of belonging and who you are, you’ll grasp at the slightest thing that seems familiar. Anything to hold onto that can give you a sense of stability and a taste of what you’re craving. People have done dumber things than fuck obnoxious wolves in the woods in pursuit of that, right?

Maybe, Apple thinks, but not much.

His trail of thought is quickly cut off as the leopard catches an unfamiliar scent. Gunpowder and cigarettes, mixed with something else.

A German nearby. His leopard eyes move over the landscape, trying to track the source of it and finding it closer than he expected it to be. Closer than his leopard would ever allow into his territory, mere feet away from a sleeping Gus, still snoring and naked under the shelter of a tree. The last vestiges of humanity quickly disappear from Apple, the leopard half of him taking over completely. He stalks silently toward the German and a sleeping Gus, body low to the ground, poised to attack with each new step.

The German is close to Gus, too close. He raises his gun. He’s about to fire.

He doesn’t get the chance. Apple leaps an inhuman distance and takes the German down in one move, swift and deadly, a haze of claws and teeth. The screams wake Gus from his sleep, the wolf immediately alert and pushing himself up from the ground, but the German is already taken care of underneath Apple, mauled and choking on his own blood as the leopard yowls and snarls.

Gus stands back and watches, carefully still as the leopard snarls his displeasure. His muzzle is still bloody when he turns to face Gus, green-gold eyes accusatory and full of reproach. Apple growls at him, showing him sharp, bloody teeth.

Gus is unperturbed by the display. “Good morning, Apple.”

The cat is not impressed, and he’s certainly not pleased by how relaxed Gus is or how far into Apple’s territory the German managed to get.

The instinct is a feline one, coming from the most leopard part of him, a deep animalistic need that Apple gives into without any conscious thought. He gazes up at Gus with those green-gold eyes, holding that gaze for the space of an eternity, before letting his eyes slowly drift closed into a feline blink. His body moves forward, head lowering to brush his face against Gus’s leg, dragging the length of his fur against Gus, spreading his scent there and claiming the wolf for himself.

His.

No German will ever get that close to Gus again.

At least, Apple later reasons with himself, not while they’re in Dunkirk.

***

The battle is over. Apple and Gus are leaving, off to some other battlefield in this miserable war. Their mission in Dunkirk is over, the experiment of an interspecies pack of two on the battlefield an apparent success. Their superiors need never know all the specific details of it.

Even though Gus has been replaying those details in his head every spare moment.

They’re seated next to each other in the back of a truck, on their way to be shipped back to England. Dunkirk is disappearing in the background.

Gus looks over to Apple, to the fine brown strands of his hair combed perfectly into place, the soft lines around his eyes, the scruff of his beard and mustache that could use a trim. He wonders where the war will take them next, how this story will play out for the shifters in England and those who are serving God and country to keep a Nazi hell at bay. The truth is, the wolf has claimed Apple for itself, and the cat has claimed Gus in kind, although Gus is certain that Apple doesn’t see it that way. Until Apple does, the mating bond will never be fully settled between them.

It'll only be there on the surface, a hint at what could be, what they could be together.

A wolf and a cat.

He can just hear his mother’s howls of laughter, imagine her shaking her head and saying, “Only you could go to war and come back with a cat.”

The thought makes him grin.

“By the way,” Gus says, breaking the silence between them. Apple’s sharp gaze turns to look at Gus and Gus absolutely revels in the undivided attention. “I found some glasses.” Gus reaches into a pocket and pulls out the gold-framed glasses he stole off a dead German, along with quite a few other things. Those brilliant cat eyes flicker down to them, then back up at Gus. “Thought you might need these.”

It’s a game, of course. Apple doesn’t wear glasses. Shifters have notoriously good eyesight, even as they ease into an old age that’s far longer than most human lifespans. Apple will never need glasses. That man was born perfect and will remain so until the day he dies a long, long time from now.

But Gus can’t help himself. He’s a wolf. It’s just what wolves do.

Apple watches Gus for one of those long cat moments, a minute that seems to span an eternity, before reaching out to take them from him. “Jolly thoughtful of you,” Apple replies.

The wolf in Gus is jubilant. He can’t stop grinning in triumph all the way back to England, but if it bothers Apple at all, the cat doesn’t say anything.

[thommi-tomate]

Interview with Lee PT.2

By: GQ Deutschland

You lived in Manchester for a long time. What differences do you see in terms of public and media reactions between Germany and England?

In both countries, there are media - and people - who like to pigeonhole others. That's certainly not the majority, but you have to accept it. In England, however, people find it easier to compliment you on an outfit. I do the same myself. If I like what a person is wearing, I tell them that - even if I don't know them at all.

You have been living in Germany again since 2020. How have you developed since your return?

I get a bit more attention here than I did in England - and that can be both positive and negative. In England, I was considered a talent and was just one of many players at Manchester City, so everything was a bit more relaxed for me there. Here I'm a German international. On the whole, though, I'm very happy with how everything has developed.

The public mood towards the national team has not been particularly good in recent years. With the test match victories against France and Belgium, this has changed completely. How are you looking forward to the tournament?

Especially now with the successes in preparation, my mood is good and the anticipation is great. That has a lot to do with the fact that it's a home European Championship. You can only take part in something like this once in your football career, if at all. In sport, everything happens very quickly. If you lose, everything is bad, if you win, everything is great. We can put that into perspective. National coach Julian Nagelsmann always makes sure that the mood in the team is good and that we get on better and better with each other on the pitch. That's how the European Championship can take on a very special dynamic with the fans and those around us and take us a long way - hopefully all the way to the title.

Unfortunately, you yourself were suspended for the games against France and the Netherlands. Were you still able to get involved?

Definitely. It was very important for me to be with the boys again. The atmosphere within the team was already good beforehand and the coach always managed to ensure that we were relaxed and extremely focused at the same time. I'm very pleased that this has been reflected in the results and that we now have new momentum. This will hopefully carry us through the entire preparation period and well into the European Championships.

Especially at such a big tournament, it is important for success that the structure in the dressing room is right. At the age of 28, you are no longer one of the young guns. What does that mean for your position within the team?

As you get older and more experienced, you look at how you can help and support the young players. Especially in my position as an attacking midfielder, there are lots of opportunities. I'm certainly not the one who always speaks up. But I try to be a leader on the pitch - a player who brings momentum and who the others can follow. We have a very good mix of experienced and young players, from which both sides can benefit.

One big change is that Toni Kroos has returned to the national team. His qualities on the pitch are well known, but how important can he be for the team in the dressing room?

In the dressing room, he is someone that all the other players look up to. He has achieved so much that his successes give him a special status. He's incredible on the pitch, he doesn't let anything get him down. Even when things aren't going well, he's always focused. You just look at him and you know you don't have to worry. He shows us that we always have it in our own hands to turn a game around. What's more, he can really intimidate the opposition with his presence. He helps us a lot and is just incredibly good for the team.

You mentioned that you yourself are more of a quiet type. You can also see that on the pitch and it's something that critics sometimes accuse you of. Is that something you're working on?

It's in my nature to focus on myself first. But now I try to show more often that I always give my all. As an attacking player, I have less of an overview of the pitch than someone in defensive midfield. As a result, I can hardly intervene in an orderly fashion. But I can lead the way and get the others involved.

What do you expect from the European Championships?

Just being able to take part in a European Championship and represent your country is an extraordinary experience. The fact that it is taking place in your home country only makes the whole thing even greater. It's a good opportunity to be carried away and pushed by the euphoria. Of course, there is a risk that the pressure will be particularly high, but I'm just really looking forward to the tournament. I have great expectations of myself, of the team, and of course the greatest thing would be to win this title with the national team in my own country.

This euphoria can inspire a team, but a setback can quickly turn the whole thing on its head

We shouldn't start worrying now about what will happen if we are eliminated. In the past, we've seen that the fans were euphoric and grateful even when the national team was eliminated in the semi-finals - because the players always gave their best.

That was the case at the "summer fairytale", the World Cup in 2006, which also took place in Germany. You were ten years old at the time and played for Schalke 04's youth team. What memories do you have of the tournament?

I can still remember it very well. No matter where you were, people would gather and watch the games. When Germany played, the streets were empty because everyone was cheering in front of the screen or in the stadium. As a young boy, I dreamed of being on the pitch when something like that happened. So I'm in the process of fulfilling a big dream. And of course my - our - biggest goal is to give people another great summer like this.

[viric-dreams]

I'm still figuring out the speech patterns for the rest of the gang, but I do have somewhat of a read on the oldest two:

Ockham's vocabulary is marginally bigger in writing than spoken speech, because heshethey has more time to think when putting together a letter. Ockham did not have to write at all in English before landing in London, and when faced with the strange and myriad ways that Londoners open and close their letters Ockham's given up on trying to parse the connotation behind all of the greetings and just decided to just translate directly. Londoners also tend to be a bit finicky about names, so in hishertheir experience, a professional title or just "friend" is usually inoffensive enough. Don't even get himherthem started on orthography.

In speech, Ockham's more likely to fall back on a Flemish word if heshethey doesn't know the English one. Hopefully the idea gets across regardless. Ockham's spoken sentences also tend to be shorter. Often, spoken conversations are easier because hishertheir face and body language can do a lot of the heavy lifting (not that Ockham's especially outwardly expressive). It always seems to surprise people how comparatively expansive hishertheir nautical vocabulary is (which Ockham does not understand--of course it would be, Ockham spent years working on an English-speaking ship). There are also several instances where Ockham will know that an expression or idiom doesn't actually translate into English but will still insist on using it anyway, either because it sound better, or because Ockham's simply going to will it into English himherthemself through attrition.

If a character speaks either French, German, or Dutch Ockham will instantly and gladly switch. Of those three, Ockham's German is somewhat imperfect, but still better than hishertheir English.

-

Roberts' writing is formal and impersonal, but to the point. Most of the time he's writing reports, or following up on work-related matters. There's no one he would address by first name. The Commodore's invited him to do so on multiple occasions (as he's done to several of his fellow peers in the early days... but since becoming the Commodore, none of them will call him by his first name, even if he suggests it). The Commodore's the only person who calls him by his first name to his face, a holdover from even before the Fall (anyone else doing that feels uncomfortably intimate). He always signs his letters off with full title.

Roberts has a tendency to frame sentences as commands, intentionally or not. His tendency to speak loudly also adds to that effect. The more out of his comfort zone he is or closer to the end of his tether, the quieter he gets. When the word "please" starts to slip into his speech, it's a sign to tread carefully. Push too far, and it turns to anger. This is one of the rare times you'll hear profanity out of his mouth. It's not utilised particularly creatively, but the rarity of seeing him truly livid and the accompanying raised voice and body language gets the message across regardless.

Nite shares most of these speech/writing quirks, however, he's much quicker to try to turn to first names and familiarity, often more quickly than others are comfortable with. He'd like for people close to him to call him Nicholas, or any sort of nickname or pet name. His register remains polite, but often more friendly and less impersonal.

[littlemarylil]

Reunion

Stanislaus Katczinsky X f!reader

Part 1

Warnings: 18+, NSFW, smut, fluff, sexual themes, age gap

Summary: This final part is set few months after the first one, the war has ended and you still live with your family, but then you receive an unexpected letter.

A/N: This took longer than I expected and I wanna apologize for that but it's also longer than the first part. Also my English isn't the best, so please don't mind some mistakes. :)

Word count: 3,3k

After the ‘incident’ in the forest your family seemed to be suspicious or maybe your feeling of guilt made you feel that way. They never asked you about it, you never talked about it, but you felt around them more uncomfortable than you did before.

So a letter from your aunt saying she needed help at her farm, because her husband died was a relief for you, but you didn't know it yet. Someone had to go to her farm and stay there until the work was done. Your father fell ill so your mother had to do most of the work on this farm and take care of your father. Before your father made up his mind, it was already obvious to you, that your father wouldn't let your brother leave. There was only one person left.

Early in the morning you packed your things without single objection and left. The only person who said goodbye to you was your mum. She was quite the opposite of you. She wasn't stubborn, she always did everything as your father said and never argued with him. You were worried about her, because now it's gonna be just her and them. You gulped back your tears. Nobody knew how long you'll stay at your aunt's farm, but you didn't really care, your home was now hell on earth for you. Your aunt was completely alone for few months and you didn't know in which state you'll find her. Over the years she and your uncle became more friends than partners, but it's kinda normal, isn't it? They always wanted children but somehow it never happened. ‘It's better to never have children than watch them die in war’, you thought.

The war was over but it didn't really left, aftereffects were everywhere around you. On the ground, on the people. Widows, drunks, children, beggars, handicapped... – you met many people during your journey and every one of them could tell you a different story.

After the sunset you finally arrived to the farm, everything was calm, the only source of light came from the kitchen. You knocked on the door and waited. After a while the door swung open. Your aunt stared at you for a while and then gave you a tight hug. It was nice to see her again, she looked more tired and older than the last time you saw her.

“I'm glad it's you and not your... Nevermind, come in, you must be tired after the way.” She was right, you were tired. You followed her to the kitchen and put your suitcases down on the floor. She served you soup, you didn't eat anything whole day so if felt like a gift from heaven. After you were full she finally spoke, you didn't know how you should talk to her, if your questions couldn't be too harmful for her right now, so you just let her talk and listened. Your uncle didn't die in war, but because he was sick and nobody had drugs for him. Of course they tried to cure him with more natural ways but it wasn't enough. After he died your aunt was left here alone and she needed help with farm, especially from a man who can do hard work. Well you have to be enough.

When she said everything she wanted to she asked you about the news at your home. You told her that your father also fell sick, but it's not something serious and he should be alright soon, about how much your brother look up to him... You also mentioned how two German soldiers stole a goose and eggs from your farm and how you stopped your brother from shooting the older one.

“What did you do after that?” she asked you after you moved ahead in our story and didn't explain this thing.

You felt your cheeks getting red. “I just-”, you tried to find good excuse, “stayed there for a moment, made sure he's not armed and that he's not going back to hurt my brother and then ran back home.” That sounds believably, right? Guessing from her reaction she believed you and you continued. You felt bad for lying to her, but you also couldn't tell her the truth.

After your conversation you were really tired and so was she. She showed you the room in which you will now live for you didn't know how long. It was nice little room, with single bed, wardrobe and window on the south.

You laid on your bed and before you fell asleep you couldn't keep the thought about the fact the war actually brought something good to you off your mind. Of course you knew that war means the worst things a human can think of, but if the war didn't happen, you most likely wouldn't be here. And you felt happy here, you finally were free and useful. Another thought came through your mind... It was about the soldier, Stanislaus. You tried to keep him off your mind, because he was most likely dead or back with his family or that other soldier, trying to live normal life and he never thought about you ever again. You sighted. No matter how wrong or weird it was, he made you feel good and wanted and you liked it.

After you woke up you opened your window, it was springtime. Everything was again full of energy after tiring winter. It was time to get to work.

You spend 3 months here now, the work was hard but you got used to it. The most important things that should be done earlier are now finished and now you got yourself into the endless circle of everyday work on the farm. You were preparing lunch for your aunt and yourself when you heard her talk with someone on the farmyard. It didn't sound like she's talking with some neighbour or someone she knew, it was more like an argument. You went outside to see what's happening. Your aunt was arguing with someone and before you were able to see the other person you already realized why was she upset. The other person wasn't speaking French but German and she hated when someone tried to speak German to her.

“What's happening auntie?” you walked to her and didn't pay much attention to the other person, yet.

“You can speak German, am I right? So please tell this gentleman to turn around and go where he came from, I don't have time for this,” after she said that she went to the barn and didn't care about the man anymore.

You finally paid attention to the man she was speaking with. He was already looking at you and looked as surprised as you did.

“Jesus...” (He's not gonna help you right now.) You took a step back. You didn't know if this was a nightmare or a dream. He was really there, in front of you, looking at you with the same eyes he did when you first met. It was this shit all over again. It was Stanislaus.

“What- What the fuck are you doing here?” You screamed this sentence although your voice was quiet.

He didn't answer, just kept looking at you. Your eyes searched for your aunt, she was still in the barn, that's good, this will take some time. He laughed, but it wasn't a laugh of happiness. What are you supposed to do? Tell him to go away? Just like that? And act like you don't know him? What was he even doing here? Did he come to steal again, to hurt you, do hurt your aunt? Was he also at your farm? Did he hurt your family? Where was the other soldier?

“What are you doing here?” You needed answers there's time for mental breakdown later. It seems like he finally got to his senses.

“I was looking for you everywhere, but now when I found you... I don't know what to say.”

This cough you off guard, but before you could say something your aunt got back.

“What does he want? Tell him we don't have anything for him and that he should go away.”

“He's asking me for a direction,” you lied. Again.

“Send him to hell where he belongs,” she answered and walked into the house.

“You can't stay here, you have to go away,” you grabbed his hand and led him away.

“Listen to me, I don't know why are you here or what you want here, but you need to leave,” you insisted.

“No, you listen to me, I didn't come all the way here just to leave when I finally found you.”

You didn't understand anything.

“What do you want here?”

“You.”

He was pretty straight with that and you appreciated it, but what the- does that mean??

You sat on a stone that lay on a wayside and rested your head on your knees, your head was full of thoughts and your feelings were mixed. Were you happy? Worried? Upset? Probably all of that.

“I'm sorry I just storm here like that...” The tone of his voice changed. He stroked your shoulder and sat next to you.

You looked at him: “How did you know I'm here? You don't even know my name.”

He was thinking for a moment. “I didn't know you're here, I went to the farm where I met you, but you weren't there, so I just... I just wandered around...” he looked so lost.

“Why didn't you go back to your home after war and stay there?”

“Y/N!?” your aunt called your name from the farm.

•••

You didn't know how you've done it but after a long conversation you've managed to persuade your aunt to let Stanislaus stay for some time.

“You shouldn't be so nice to him, you'll regret it later,” your aunt whispered as you two watched him undress himself in the kitchen.

“He just needed to wash himself,” you responded as you looked at the washtub laying on the table.

Your aunt sighed and rushed off the door on the farmyard. “I agreed to see my friend today, but now I'm not sure I can leave you here alone,” she called to you. You finally stopped staring and left before it became too creepy.

“When I get there, I'll ask her son Martin to go here and help you.”

You couldn't help yourself but roll your eyes.

“He's not getting near me, he thought it was funny to push me into water when I couldn't swim and put dead rats in my bed-”

“You were both kids back then,” your aunt responded and smiled a bit.

“But he's still idiotisch.”

She signed. You came to her, “Please believe me, it doesn't seem that he came here to hurt us, besides thanks to my brother I know how to fight with a man.”

She held your hands and said: “Please just promise me that if anything would happen, you will run away and won't try to be a hero.”

“I promise.”

•••

You were sitting on a bench and enjoyed hot weather when Stanislaus came out. He sat next to you and asked you, “She's not here?”

“No, but she'll come back soon, meanwhile you can finally explain what you're doing here.”

He lighted a cigarette and inhaled the smoke, “I'll tell you everything after you will finally introduce yourself to me,” he looked at you and offered you his cigarette which you accept. “I'm Y/N.”

As you enjoyed the cigarette he started: “When the war ended I tried to go back home, to my wife and live the same life before I left, but... I just couldn't, we couldn't. I wasn't the husband she knew and after few months she left me. Everyone I knew from the front died and people from the place I used to live just didn't understand...”

You passed him the cigarette. “What about the other guy you were with in the forest?”

“He died the day the war had ended.” You noticed the tears that started to fill his eyes, but he tried to avoid it. They had to be close.

“I'm sorry to hear that.”

“You don't have to be sorry, he didn't mean anything to you, he was just some guy who stole from you farm.”

You both fell silent and just enjoyed the shared cigarette together.

After a while you had to ask: “But I still don't understand why you tried to find me?”

Stanislaus threw away the cigarette butt and looked at you: “Don't you get it? You are the only one I've left.”

You couldn't help yourself but smile at that sentence. “What do you expect me to do? Why do you think it's gonna be different or better with me, when it didn't even work with your own wife?”

“It's my last chance, you are my last chance.”

You felt sorry for him. How hopeless and lonely must a human be to go and find the girl he once hooked up with in the forest, because he doesn't have anyone else? But this wasn't your fight, you didn't own him anything and you already had enough problems.

“I'm sorry Stanislaus, but this isn't my fight,” you stood up, walked through the gate and headed to meadow.

You laid down into the grass, made yourself comfortable and tried to collect your thoughts.

Not long after, Stanislaus arrived and sat down next to you. He scanned your entire body and you did notice that. You couldn't blame him, you were wearing a summer dress which sometimes showed more than you wanted.

“Looking for something?”

“I'm sorry, I shouldn't...”

“Just like I shouldn't seduce you in that forest, but I did,” you sat up to get closer to him, “To be honest, I didn't have it easy at home after that, well before it's wasn't perfect either, but-”

“You saved my life back there.” He looked straight into your eyes, he was serious about it.

“I know... and I don't regret any moment I had there with you. And that's probably the bad thing.”

He held your hand and then kissed it. He was really testing your morals right now. He moved up to your arm and continued kissing it. He put his leg between yours, laid you down and started kissing your collarbones. His hand moved under your dress and started squeezing your thigh, you wrapped your legs around his waist and pulled him closer to you. He finally kissed you on lips, it's was passionate, like he wanted to do this for a long time and now he couldn't get enough. You couldn't believe you're doing this again, are you really that easy, or was it just easy with him? Of course some guys have shown interest in you, but you usually straightaway refused or kept them waiting for a long time, but with him it was different, you felt like you don't need to keep him waiting. You excused your first time with an outburst of emotions and a lack of satisfaction on both sides, but now you both knew what you were doing.

“What's wrong?” he studied your face. You were completely lost in your thoughts.

“I don't know what I'm doing,” you pushed him off yourself, “this would never work out...”

“Y/N come here,” he grabbed you by your waist and hugged you.

“I hate the effect you have on me.”

“And you can't even imagine what you're doing to me,” he replied. You shook your head.

“I want you to sit on my face,” he said while he was stroking your hair.

“What?” You pulled away from the hug.

“I'm serious about it.”

You hesitated for a moment and looked around in case someone was nearby, but everything seemed quiet. You stood up, took off your panties and did as he said. He kissed your inner thighs, and slowly moved to your slit. His moustache was scratching you, but you didn't mind. He grabbed your hips to help you stay in the right position.

You bit your hand to keep yourself quiet, but it didn't really help. He knew exactly how to make you fall into pieces on him, it was overwhelming for you and the fact that you're doing something wrong turned you on even more. He kept licking and sucking your clit until you finished. You sat down on the ground next to him and tried to pull yourself together. He wiped his mouth and then licked your wetness of his fingers. This was the first time someone ate you out and he definitely wasn't ashamed about it. It was getting really hot, the whole time you were in the sun. You picked up your panties but didn't put them back on.

“Let's get inside,” you smiled at him and headed back. Your aunt wasn't back yet, so that meant you had whole farm for yourself. As you entered the kitchen, he closed the door and grabbed you from behind. He started kissing your neck and lifted your dress up until he took it off completely, leaving you fully naked. His hands that were exploring your newly exposed skin made you gasp. He bendt you over the kitchen table and kissed your back. You heard him unzipping his pants.

“Please,” you begged quietly. He didn't keep you waiting for too long before he slipped his hard cock into you. You whined, the last time you fucked with someone was with him, months ago in that stupid forest. You almost forgot how good it feels, how good it feels with him. He started thrusting, first slowly but after a while he sped up. You had to grab the edge of the table to prevent yourself from moving. He bent over for a moment to look at your face, you were completely trapped under him and he liked it. You already looked like a mess and him hitting your sweet spot inside you really didn't help you. His hands were squeezing your hips as he was thrusting forward hard enough to fill you completely. After couple of minutes he pulled his dick out and finished on your ass.

After a short rest he started looking for something to wipe you with. When he didn't find anything, he decided to clean you up himself. He started licking his own cum off your butt cheek. It caught you off guard, but you immediately remembered this man was at war, he surely ate and experienced worse things than semen on a hot woman he just railed.

You turned around to face him. “You are indeed beautiful Fräulein,” he said as he looked at you in your full beauty. “Not so beautiful after you screwed me like this.” He smiled and cuddled you tightly as you rested your head on his chest.

You jerked as you heard someone opening the gate door. “Fuck,” you quickly picked up your clothes from the floor and ran to your room as Stanislaus zipped his pants.

Your aunt came through the farmyard and came inside and looked around, “Where's Y/N?” she asked Stanislaus suspiciously.

“I'm here,” you entered the room dressed, “how was your visit?”

“It was nice, we had plenty things to talk about... And here? Everything alright?”

You looked at Stanislaus, “We talked about his past, he seems nice...”

The rest of the day went by fast. You went to bed and Stanislaus slept on the sofa in a hall.

It was midnight when someone knocked on your door. You stood up and opened the door. It was Stanislaus, without a word you invited him in and lit a candle on your nightstand.

You broke the silence first, “If you want to stay longer you could help us here, but I'm not the one who decides of you will stay or not...”

He sat next to you and kissed you.

Something told you this was the beginning of something new.

The end.