#so i come up with alternates that are quite good themselves

[soaps-mohawk]

Cherry Red, Crimson Blood

Chapter 2 - Adjustments

Summary: You're struggling a bit in your adjustment to your new life, and you're finding some of them are easier to get along with than others. Luckily you're not in it alone.

Pairing: Poly 141 x reader

Warnings: Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, Alternate Universe, a/b/o typical classism and sexism, military inaccuracies, let's be real this is so unrealistic but it's a/b/o you're not here for accuracy.

Author's Note: I'm so just overwhelmed with the attention this fic has gotten, but not in a bad way I promise! I'm just surprised is all. Thank you everyone that has read and reblogged and commented. I love all of you and so, since I have no self control, here is Chapter 2. Lots more world building and dialogue in this part, but I promise good stuff is coming.

Also I promise Soap will get his time soon. He's just the hardest for me to write, and you'll see why in this chapter.

MASTERLIST | <- Previous | Next ->

“She was lying.” 

Price doesn’t bother looking up as a dark figure leans against the wall next to him. He stares out at the empty space between the barracks and the mess hall, not much traffic between the buildings during this time of day. 

“About how she got to the institute.” 

“Or at least not telling the whole truth.” Price says, turning to look at Simon. “Something tells me she’d talk if we asked.” 

“She’s soft.” Simon says, letting his gaze drift off into the distance. 

“She’s a civilian.” Price counters. “The CIA did a little training, but she’ll need some work. We can’t leave her completely defenseless...” 

Simon turns to face him again. “There’s something else.” 

Price pushes himself off the wall, heading back inside. Simon follows, the two of them making their way down the hall to his office. “There’s hundreds of American military bases across the world, thousands of regiments they could have chosen from, and yet, they sent her to us.” 

Simon closes the door behind him as Price sinks into his desk chair. “You think it was deliberate?” 

Price pulls open one of the drawers, pulling out the file Kate had given him. “Laswell said the CIA has had eyes on her for years.” He slides it across his desk to Simon. “There’s a lot of why's in this situation, and a lot of how’s. Like, if what she’s saying is true, how did a Staff Sergeant get his daughter into FIOT practically overnight?” 

Simon glances up at him over the top of the file. “You think there’s something else going on with this Initiative.” 

Price nods. “I do. I think there’s more than one experiment being run, and we’re the guinea pigs.” 

You stare at your reflection in the mirror as you run a comb through your damp hair. You look tired, the dark circles that have plagued your face for the last few weeks looking even darker now. It’s been a long day, so long it’s hard to believe it’s only been a matter of hours since you boarded the helicopter in London. 

Your new pack had made themselves scarce after dinner, leaving you to your own devices. You had been left alone after lunch too, and you had spent that time laying in bed, resting after the overwhelming scenting. 

You’d played back the last few hours in your mind. Leaving London in the helicopter, meeting your new Pack Alpha, Laswell leaving, meeting your new pack, the scenting. You had plenty to think about, to stress over, and you had been surprised when the knock came at your door for dinner. You were equally surprised to see Gaz and Soap waiting for you. 

You’d been sandwiched between them again as you walked to the mess. It was busier for dinner, and the eyes weren’t quite so quick to look away with the alphas missing. You know they have to be curious, with an omega on base following around two members of a SpecOps team, smelling like them. You know what they were probably thinking of you, what they were thinking your presence means. 

You’ve begun to understand Price’s rules a bit more. 

Price and Ghost had joined you as Soap said they would, coming in late from whatever they had been busy doing. You had been seated next to Soap, Ghost taking his other side while Price sat next to Gaz. It hadn’t gone unnoticed to you how close Soap and Ghost sat, and you remembered the look in Ghost’s eyes when Soap had approached to scent you. How his defensive stare had turned icy, threatening even, when he’d gotten close to you as if you were capable of hurting Soap. It had been a silent warning. If you tried anything, you’d have him to contend with. 

Ghost is territorial, more so than most alphas. You had seen it just a bit in Price, but only because you had been watching for it. Ghost was silent in his claim, but his gaze spoke of his territorialism. As you sat at the table with them, you slowly felt the stares lessen, the curious alphas and betas around you slowly turning away from your table until you were left in peace. You knew it was all thanks to a well-pointed glare from the second alpha at the table. 

They’d escorted you back to the barracks before disappearing again, leaving you alone. You’d opted for a shower to try and clear your head, exhaustion weighing heavy in your limbs but your mind was racing too much to really get any rest. You haven’t been told what their normal schedules entail or even what they look like, but you expect an early morning tomorrow. Since Price had said at least one of them needed to escort you around base, that likely meant you were going to be constrained to their schedules. 

You know even when they’re not away, their days are probably full of training and briefings, much like yours had been for three months. They’re probably up early, earlier than you’d like to be, and then they go non-stop all day. 

You wonder if they ever get a break. 

Maybe this is a break for them. 

You sit on the edge of the bed after you finish your routine, eyeing the pillows and blankets stacked at the end. They’re military issue, not as soft or as plush as you might have preferred. This is your new normal, though. Comfort isn’t exactly going to be a high priority. 

Tears prick your eyes as you run your hand over the comforter. You know it’s the exhaustion, the stress of the day beginning to weigh on you. You’re worn out, and that’s causing a slip in the tight reins you keep on your mood. Omegas and alphas were both prone to being moody, and those who were unrestrained could lose control quickly. Alphas were quick to anger, while omegas could get depressed very easily. Exhaustion drives both to being grumpy, though alphas will descend into irritability and anger, while omegas will get whiny and weepy. 

You hate it, how easily you can be driven to cry. How easily you can lose control. It makes you feel weak and helpless, but that’s partially by design. It was supposed to be your pack’s job to fix that, to give you that support and take care of you. 

Except you don’t know your pack. 

What would they do if you approached them like this, all teary and needy? Would instinct take over and snap them into their roles? Or would they give you an awkward pat on the back and leave you to take care of yourself? Gaz would help you, you think. He had slipped into that role so easily during the scenting. Your fingers twitch on the bedspread, your mind telling you to seek him out, track him down, even if it’s only to catch a whiff of his scent again.  

Your phone screen lights up where it’s sitting on the nightstand, drawing your attention from the door. Kate had given you the phone just this morning before you left the hotel. It had her number on it, as well as your pack’s. You’d half expected to find messages already from them when you’d turned it on, but there had been none. They had kept that boundary of meeting in person first. 

You pick up the phone, checking the message. It’s from Price. 

Breakfast is at 0700. I’ll take you to see the Omega Specialist after. 

Seven o’clock. It’s not terribly early. You’d eaten around the same time at the institute. You’ll get to meet the Omega Specialist as well tomorrow. You’ve met plenty of them in your time as an omega, but something about the idea of having someone there who knows, who understands is comforting to you. 

You send a reply in acknowledgement for tomorrow’s plan before setting an alarm for tomorrow morning. There’s an uneasy feeling under your skin, a tickling in the back of your mind that you can’t seem to relax. Your eyes are drawn to the desk where the shirts still sit, and before you know it you’re moving to the desk, letting your fingers trail over each one. 

You grab Price’s shirt, taking it back to your bed. You curl up with your back facing the door, holding the shirt against your chest, letting the scent of tobacco smoke and whiskey fill your nose. Silent tears slide down your cheeks, your face pressing into the pillow to muffle your sobs. 

As you try to muffle your tears, you miss the sound of boots pausing in front of your door, the person on the other side standing there for a moment before continuing down the hall. 

You let out a groan as your alarm pulls you from sleep. You had drifted in and out for a few hours before finally managing to get a couple precious hours of sleep. You’d woken when the others got up. You knew they were trying to be quiet but you had heard them shuffling around, talking quietly amongst each other. You’re normally a fairly deep sleeper, but in a new place you always struggle. 

A new place surrounded by almost complete strangers. 

You turn off your alarm, sitting up and rubbing your eyes. They’re burning a bit, the exhaustion still weighing heavy on your shoulders. You pad to the bathroom, splashing cold water on your face to try and make yourself at least look more alive than you feel. The last thing you need is them getting worried about you. That’s attention you’re not sure you want right now. 

You blink sleepily at your closet, trying to decide what to wear. Were you allowed to wear anything? You didn’t have much besides the basics, since the only thing you had been allowed to wear at the institute was its uniform and the clothes they provided. Then when you were with the CIA, they had provided clothes for you to wear as well. The things you have now had been bought by Kate before you left D.C. 

Everyone on base wore similar variants of the same uniform. You’re not military, though, so you don’t think those rules apply to you. No one had said anything about your state of dress yesterday. You opt for comfort, knowing you’d likely find out soon if you were going to be forced to dress differently too. 

You’re tying your shoes when the knock sounds on your door. You had heard the others moving around, footsteps in the hallway, opening and closing doors, quiet voices talking and Soap laughing at something. You know it’s one of them, yet the nervous tickle at the back of your head is back. 

Soap is leaning casually against your doorframe when you open the door. His face lights up in a smile as he sees you. “Morning, bonny. Sleep alright?” 

“Yeah.” You shrug. “Tossed and turned for a while.” 

“We didne keep ye up did we?” He asks, his smile faltering just a bit. 

You shake your head. “No, I never sleep well the first few nights in a new place.” 

“Well, our beds are always open if ye need something more comfortable.” He winks at you playfully. 

Your face warms at his words, the double meaning not lost on you. You were right, Soap was going to be the one to push your boundaries the most. 

Gaz elbows him in the ribs as he passes. “She’s been here a day, mate, don’t go scaring her off now.” He leans on the other side of your doorframe, giving you a smile. “Morning.” 

“Morning.” You say, your face still warm from Soap’s teasing. 

“You hungry?” Gaz asks. 

You nod. You do feel hungry this morning, likely a side effect from your emotional night last night. You step out of your room, the two betas stepping back to give you space as you close the door behind you. Ghost is leaning against the wall next to his door, his eyes watching with the typical cautious disinterest that seemed to be his default setting. 

Gaz and Soap sandwich you between them again, close enough their arms brush yours as you walk. It was almost as if they could sense your inner turmoil, the neediness still tugging at the back of your mind. If Ghost hadn’t been trailing the three of you, you might have been tempted to give in and grip their sleeves, or slip your hands into theirs. How would Ghost respond to such a bold move? The mental image of your body flying through the air as he punted you into next week almost makes you laugh. 

Price is already seated at a table frowning at his phone over a cup of coffee. Gaz and Soap load up your tray for you, something you’re getting used to rather quickly. It was expected from the alphas, or at least Price, to coddle you a bit, but it seemed the betas were more than happy to get in on it as well. 

The thought makes something flutter in your chest. 

You’re seated between Gaz and Price again once you reach the table, Price greeting you with a tired smile. “Morning. Sleep alright?” 

“Not really.” You say honestly. “New place and all. I’ll settle in eventually.” 

“Maybe the Omega Specialist can give you some ideas to help.” He glances at his watch before looking at you as you spoon a heaping spoonful of porridge into your mouth. “Take your time. We have until 8.” 

You listen to the conversation at the table as you eat, Gaz and Soap talking about a football game that’s on tonight. You feel eyes on you, your skin prickling a bit. You glance up, half expecting Ghost to be glowering at you again, but his gaze is focused on his eggs. You cast a quick glance around the mess, turning slightly to look behind you. 

Three tables over, you find the gaze of some soldier focused on you. You haven’t paid much attention to anyone else on the base, but then again you haven’t had much time or reason to yet. You can’t read the expression on his face as he stares at you, but you feel a shiver run down your spine as your eyes meet his. 

He stares at you for a few seconds before his gaze moves slightly past you, quickly dropping back to his plate. You turn around, finding Ghost staring just past your head. His eyes are narrowed, his scent coming off stronger than it had been. You can practically see his hackles raised, the warning clear in the air. You feel the urge to curl in on yourself, the threatening aura radiating from him makes you want to cower. 

It doesn't go unnoticed by those at the table either. 

“Easy, Ghost.” Price says calmly, Gaz turning to follow his line of sight. 

“Bloody wanker.” Ghost grumbles before rising from the table. 

You turn back around, but the soldier that had been staring at you is gone. 

You nervously pick at your sweatshirt sleeves as you sit in the plastic chair next to Price. You’re still on edge a bit from what happened at breakfast. It wasn’t so much being stared at that bothered you. After now three meals in the mess, you’ve almost come to expect it. It’s Ghost’s reaction that has your mind still reeling. 

“I’ve always hated the medical center.” Price says with a sigh as he leans his head back against the wall. “It smells too sterile. Makes my nose burn. Reminds me of too many close calls.” 

His words jar you a bit. You hadn’t even thought about that aspect of his job. He’s used to getting shot at, to getting into fights, running head first into danger that would send most running the other way. You wonder how many times he’s been the one with the close call, and how many others he’s had to watch have their own. 

You wonder how many times he’s had to make that trip to tell someone’s family. 

You’re pulled from your thoughts as the door across from you opens. Price pushes himself to his feet, and you follow as a kind looking woman steps out. You breathe a quiet sigh of relief. You don’t have anything against male Omega Specialists, but you were already surrounded by men. Sure you have Kate, but she’s half a world away. 

She’s tall, dark hair pulled back into a ponytail. Despite being a doctor she’s dressed casually, no white coat or gloves to be seen. Her eyes are light green and crease in the corners when she smiles. 

“Hello, I’m Dr. Keller.” She introduces herself, shaking Price’s hand. 

American. You think, silently breathing another sigh of relief. Kate really had pulled some strings with this one. 

“Captain John Price.” He says. 

You introduce yourself when she turns to you, shaking your hand. Her voice is soft and gentle, the scent of beta coming off her in waves. 

“Come on in,” She says, leading you into the office. “Sit anywhere you like. Make yourselves comfortable.” 

Her office isn’t what you expected either. Instead of the harsh fluorescents, the lighting is softer, warmer. There’s paintings and posters all over the walls, along with several plants. There’s a desk covered in books and paperwork in one corner and a bookshelf with several books packed into it in the other. There’s a couch on one wall, and a couple plush looking chairs on the other. 

You move to one of the chairs, sinking down onto it. It envelops you in softness, and you feel as if you might sink into it and never be able to get out. After a day of hard plastic and stiff blankets, it nearly makes you weep. 

Price takes the chair next to you, Dr. Keller sitting on the couch across from you. The office smells good, a light, neutral scent in the air aside from the pure almondy scent of beta. 

“Alright,” She says, holding a tablet and a stack of files in her lap. “I always like to start by introducing myself and telling you a bit about me, then we’ll get into the important stuff.” 

She jumps into telling you about herself. Where she grew up: California. Where she studied: UC Berkeley. What institute she did her residency at: West Coast Training Academy. Where she worked last before Kate called her in: some poor inner city institute in LA. 

“Now, on to the more important stuff.” She says, turning on the tablet. “I got your medical records yesterday. You’re quite the healthy girl.” 

“Yes ma'am. I have good genes. That’s what my mom used to say.” You respond. 

Dr. Keller smiles. “Hardly even been sick. Your heats are all normal, too, correct?” 

“Yes, ma’am.” You say. “Except for a three month stretch two years ago.” 

“Yes, the heat sickness epidemic that hit America.” She says. 

You nod. “FIOT locked down completely and everyone was supposed to quarantine, but I heard a rumor that it was one of the beta food workers. She snuck out to see her alpha boyfriend and brought it in with her. We only think it was her because she disappeared not long after the first omega got sick.” 

Dr. Keller hums. “I know not everyone was so willing to take it seriously. You made a full recovery, though. No lasting side effects, I’m sure thanks to the state of the art medical facilities that FIOT keeps.” 

“Yes, ma’am. We were lucky it was just a mild case.” 

“That is lucky.” She flips through something on the tablet. “Your lab results all look phenomenal. I like to do checkups monthly, just to ensure everything is working as it should. I know the CIA gave you quite the cocktail of vaccines while you were with them.” She turns her gaze to Price. “Captain Price, I’ve sent in a request for your team’s vaccination records as well. I’m sure you’ve had everything under the sun, but I’d like to ensure there’s no risk of any accidental exposures.” 

“I don’t see a problem with that.” Price says. “If RAMC gives you any trouble, just let me know. I’ll get them for you myself.” 

“Thank you, Captain.” She says. “One last bit in this part and then we can move on. I see FIOT issued an implant before you left, as is standard practice.” 

You nod. “Yes, ma’am.” 

“Good. You’ve had more than enough time for it to take effect so we won’t have to worry about any accidental slip ups during your next heat.” 

Your cheeks warm at her words a bit. You’ve been trying to avoid thinking about that inevitable side of things. 

“And your next heat is roughly six weeks away.” She says, looking at the calendar. “Don't be surprised if it comes a little earlier now that you’re being exposed to alphas again.” 

Your stomach twists nervously at that thought. It was common for heats to be triggered early after exposure to alphas, especially after such a prolonged period without exposure to them. It wasn’t likely to start tomorrow, but you knew it could jump a week or two due to the natural pheromones alphas put off, and the instinctual call for the alpha/omega bond. 

“You’re planning for the claiming to take place during the heat?” Dr. Keller asks. 

“Yes, that’s the plan.” Price says. 

“That is the most natural time for it.” Dr. Keller says. “Of course, it is always up to omega preference in the end.” 

You don’t miss the way her eyes dart to you for a second. 

“Now that that’s over with,” She says, putting the tablet to the side. “If it’s alright with you, I’d like to do this next part with just the two of us.” 

A beat of silence passes before you realize she’s asking you. Her eyes are on you, and so are Price’s. She’s asking you. She’s asking you what you want. 

“I-I guess...yeah.” You stutter over your words, not quite sure how to answer. Is there a wrong answer? Would Price be upset if you said yes? Would Dr. Keller be upset if you said no? Your eyes turn to Price, trying to gauge his reaction. 

“It’s up to you.” He says softly. “We’re here for you.” 

You sit up a little straighter at his words, nodding your head. “Y-Yes. That’s okay.” 

Price pushes himself to stand up. “I’ll be right outside.” 

The air inside the room seems to lighten as he leaves, Dr. Keller reclining back on the couch as the door clicks shut. She pulls out a stack of papers and a pen before she looks at you. Your palms are sweating, and you’re starting to think you’d like the chair to swallow you whole. 

“This next part can feel a bit personal, but I just want you to know that everything you say in here is as confidential as you’d like it to be. Captain Price is right. I am an Omega Specialist, I’m here for you. I’m not just a doctor, I’m here to help you in all aspects of being an omega. I know FIOT teaches a lot, mainly obedience and compliance. I want to make it clear that you can be honest with me.” She holds up the stack of papers. “No one is going to see these papers but me, alright?” 

“Yes, ma’am.” You nod. 

“You don’t have to be so formal with me.” She smiles. “You can call me Dr. Keller, or Doc. You could even call me an evil bitch if you want, it won’t phase me any.” 

You can’t help the small smile that forms on your face. 

“I’ve got some questions I’d like to ask you. They’re a sort of tracker to measure how well you’re settling in and bonding with your new pack. I’d like to meet once a week until your next heat just to see how well you’re settling in. After that we can meet as often as you’d like. Sound good?” 

You nod in approval. It sounds like a lot, but you also know you’re going to have a lot of downtime, even with your pack on base. 

“Alright, let’s get started. How are you settling in? I know it’s barely been a day, but I want to know how you feel here.” 

Your heart begins to pound in your chest. How do you feel here? How do you feel after being pulled from the institute and taken to a training facility where you found out you’d be moving halfway across the world to be a military pack’s omega. 

This wasn’t what you had expected when you reached the age where you became an available omega. Most omegas at FIOT came from rich, powerful, important families and your purpose there was to be groomed into the perfect omega to return right back to that world. 

You thought you would be chosen quickly. You had expected it. With your scores and your high ratings and your status, you were what most alphas dreamed of. Yet, the years had passed and though there was some interest, nothing had ever come of it. You weren’t alone in it. There were others like you, those who excelled at being an omega, but then seemed to stall in the selection once they came of age. 

Of course, now that you look back on it, you can’t help but think it might have been done on purpose. The Omega Initiative was new, you had been told during your first briefing explaining why you were taken to a remote building somewhere outside of D.C. and greeted not by your new pack, but swathes of CIA agents. Military packs were nothing new, but they wanted to utilize the naturally formed packs and make them stronger and more stable by adding in omegas. 

Only highly skilled omegas were considered for the program, but of course you had no say in whether you were going to partake or not. They chose the omegas and they decided where you would end up. 

It wasn’t that dissimilar from being chosen from an Institute. At FIOT there was a screening process packs had to go through to be determined eligible to have access to omega files. Then the pack would have to send a neutral emissary, usually a beta, to meet the omegas in person and choose on behalf of the alpha. Most institutes don’t have that strenuous of a process, and some don’t have a process at all. In some, alphas themselves could walk in and choose an omega without even so much as a background check. 

Omegas never got a say. As soon as you were handed over to an institute, the ability to choose was taken from you. Whoever your caretakers were as a pup signed over their rights to you and the institute became your legal guardian. They dictated your life up until you joined a new pack. 

You had hoped it would be someone rich. If nothing else, you’d get to live a cushy life and you’d never have to worry about anything. When they told you what was really going to happen to you, you had almost cried. You did cry, late at night curled up in your bunk after hours of training and briefings. 

Kate picked you for this pack specifically because she knew them and she knew you could handle them and their world. 

Maybe if you had been worse at being an omega, things would have been better for you. 

Or maybe they would have been worse. 

“It’s...different.” You finally say, picking at your sleeves again. “But in a lot of ways, it’s similar to The Institute. It always takes me time to settle somewhere new.” 

“Me too.” Dr. Keller says, writing some things down. “And with the time change, it’s just so much harder. I feel like I should be in bed right now, but it’s 8 AM. Have you started nesting?” 

You shake your head. “No. I don’t even feel the urge to.” 

“That’s fine.” She says, writing something else down. “In truth, I’d be more concerned if you were.” 

Your eyebrows raise a bit. “Why?” 

“During an adjustment period for an omega, especially in a new pack, there can be something that happens called false instincts. The sudden urge to nest, a drive to bond with pack members too soon, false heats. It’s usually brought on by a sudden change in environment, like when omegas are taken from a place where they’ve spent sometimes years with no exposure to alphas and are suddenly thrown into a space with a lot of alphas. It’s more common in larger packs where you have alphas, betas, and other omegas.” 

“Could it happen in smaller packs?” You ask. 

“It’s possible, though rare. It can cause some serious issues down the line when those instincts are actually supposed to begin to show up, like adjustment sickness. I’d say if you’re starting to feel the urge to nest or bond before the first week is up, then come talk to me, alright?” 

“Yes, ma’am.” You nod. 

She smiles, turning the page. “How far have you gotten with the bonding process?” 

“Just the scenting yesterday.” You answer. 

“And how did that go?” 

You pick at the loose thread on your sweatshirt. “Fine. It was...overwhelming.” 

“They can be.” Dr. Keller says. “The new members of your pack, how are you getting along with them?” 

“Fine, I guess.” You shrug. “I like Soap and Gaz. Price, he’s...he’s nice, and Ghost...” You trail off, not sure how to answer. If she’d asked before breakfast you might have said he doesn't like you. He doesn’t want you to be part of his pack, but after what happened at breakfast...

You can’t be sure he did it for you. He could have thought that soldier was staring at Soap or Gaz or even Price. He could have thought the soldier was staring at him and was annoyed with it. He had scared off the stares at every meal you’d eaten together, but how often did they get stared at? You couldn’t know if that was a daily occurrence and he was just growing sick of it. 

He could be annoyed with you because you’re drawing in the stares. 

“I don’t know what to think about him yet.” You answer. 

She writes something else down, going through a few more questions with you. How is your appetite? How are you sleeping? Are you taking care of your needs? Do you have any concerns? 

Before you know it the hour has passed and you’re walking out the door into the fluorescent, sterile hallway of the medical center. 

“Remember, you have my number. If you need anything, I’m here for you.” Dr. Keller says as you part ways. 

You walk with Price out of the medical center, glad to be out in the fresh air. It’s not particularly warm, and the sun is hidden behind a layer of clouds, but it’s better than the medical center. 

“What do you think?” Price asks as you follow him back to the barracks. 

“I think it went well.” You say, mind still reeling from an eventful morning. You’re beginning to feel your restless night. 

“Do you like Dr. Keller?” He asks, probing a bit. 

You nod. “Yes, sir. She’s nice.” 

“Good.” He says, opening the door to the barracks for you. “I have to leave to oversee training for the next few hours.” He glances at his watch. “One of us will come get you for lunch.” 

You nod. Of course you’d find yourself alone again between meals. You’re beginning to notice a pattern. “Yes, sir.” 

His hand is warm as it settles on your shoulder, squeezing gently. You’re surprised by the touch, as small as it is. Were they too fighting the urge to get close to you, like you had this morning? 

You can still feel the warmth of his hand even after it’s disappeared and he’s gone. You head for the rec room, deciding to avoid the constricting feeling of being shut in your room for the time being. 

The TV is on when you enter, but the room is empty, playing some morning talk show. You move to the bookshelf against the wall, letting your eyes scan the titles. There's a surprising lack of military-based books shoved into the packed shelf. Of course there's a handful of old manuals and handbooks, nothing that you're particularly concerned about needing to read. You let out a sigh, standing on your toes to reach a Brandon Sanderson novel. 

You look around the room but the remote for the TV seems to be missing, and it’s too high on the wall for you to reach the power button, so you leave it on, curling up on one corner of the couch as you begin to read. 

You’re not sure how much time has passed when something moves in your peripheral. The sun has come out briefly, shining in through the windows. You look up from the book, suddenly feeling very small under Ghost’s gaze. His eyes are narrowed as he stares down at you, a thousand things flashing through your mind. Are you in his spot? Is this his book? Had he come to the rec room hoping to be alone and here you are infringing in his space? 

“Come on.” He says, his voice rougher than it had been this morning. “Lunch.” 

He’s already turned and heading out the door as you scramble up, leaving the book on the coffee table as you hurry to catch up to him. His steps are quick and wide, and you find yourself having to almost speedwalk to keep up with him. 

Your thoughts are jumbled as you follow him out of the barracks and off towards the mess. Why would they send him to get you? Was he the only one available? Yesterday they had time before lunch to return to the barracks, or had that only been because of you? Or were they perhaps hoping this might offer a chance for the two of you to bond a bit? 

Or were they entirely blind to Ghost’s disinterest in your existence? 

Perhaps they were used to it. After so long together, perhaps they just thought it was normal. If you were brave enough to bring it up, would you get a “oh that’s just how he is” in response? 

You can’t see the others as you enter the mess, Ghost leading you to the line. He stands behind you like a hulking shadow, his scent covered by the smell of gunpowder and sweat. You fill your own tray for the first time, grabbing things that look appetizing. You’ll have to get used to it eventually, even though the others insisted on doing it for the time being. When they’re not here, you’ll have to do it yourself. 

Ghost leads you to an empty table, and you opt to sit across from him. You begin to eat, taking big bites to avoid the need for conversation, not that you really thought Ghost would strike up a conversation with you. Your eyes flicker around the room nervously, glancing over the entrances time and time again, waiting for the others to arrive. 

“Stop twitching. They’re on their way.” 

The words cut straight through you and you snap your head around to face Ghost. He’s got his mask pulled up to his nose, your eyes immediately drawn to the exposed pale skin. There’s light stubble on his chin. You remember how that had felt on your own skin when he’d scented you. He’s blonde, you think, or at least has light hair judging by the color of the stubble. There’s a scar on his chin, almost hidden by the stubble. 

Your face warms as you realize you’ve been caught in your nervous fretting. Of course, you should have known he would take notice. There’s not a lot they don’t notice, you think. Though, when your survival depends on noticing even the smallest detail of anything or anyone...

You jump as a tray is set down next to yours, your eyes snapping up to see Gaz with a smile on his face. You turn back to look at Ghost, his mask pulled back down but you see a slight shake to his shoulders for a second.

Was he...laughing at you? 

Your attention is drawn from him as Gaz takes a seat next to you, sitting close enough his arm is almost brushing yours. Price and Soap taking their usual spots as well. You’re beginning to pick up on the patterns that existed around them, and their own patterns. Perhaps that will make it easier for you to fit yourself into their lives. You knew from the start they weren’t going to change to fit you into their lives. They couldn’t. You were going to have to find a way to fit into their lives. 

Gaz walks you back to the barracks after lunch, abnormally quiet as he watches you warily. He walks you to your door, leaning on the doorframe as you step inside. 

“You alright?” He asks, big brown eyes shining with worry as he looks you over. 

“Yeah.” You nod, shifting on your feet. “Just tired. I think I might take a nap.” 

He nods, and you’re sure he doesn't quite believe you, but he doesn’t press any. “Alright. Happy napping.” 

You close the door as he leaves, sinking down onto the edge of the bed with a sigh. It’s been a long day and it’s only lunch. Between the probing questions from Dr. Keller and the few minutes you had spent alone with Ghost you feel exhausted. It was good to know you weren’t entirely broken in your lack of nesting instincts, and perhaps your turmoil with belonging in this place wasn’t quite as abnormal as you thought. 

What to do about Ghost.

He’s said more words to you today than he did in the entirety of the previous day. In fact, you think today might be the first time he’s spoken to you at all. You know he doesn’t approve of you, and you’d go so far as to say he doesn’t like you. You can imagine he fought the hardest against you being added to the pack. They were fine without you. It didn’t take a genius to see that. 

You’re an outsider. A civilian. A risk. 

An unneeded disruption to their lives. 

You pull your phone out of your pocket, staring at the dark screen. You know Ghost might never accept you. He won’t want to claim you, he won’t mate you, but...perhaps you might just get him to tolerate you. 

You unlock your phone, sending a quick text to Kate. 

“Can you get a book for me?”

You regret your decision momentarily as you step into the rec room. Gaz and Soap are lounged on the couch, beer bottles open on the coffee table. The TV is playing ads, their attention on each other. You almost feel as if you’re infringing upon a private moment as they laugh, half tempted to race back to your room and hide until your hunger draws you out or someone breaks down the door to get to you. 

“Hey!” Gaz’s face lights up when he sees you, Soap turning to look at you.

“Hey, bonny!” His face lights up with a smile. 

“Do you mind if I join you?” You ask, shifting nervously on your feet. 

“Not at all.” Gaz says, patting the empty spot on the couch next to him. “You want a beer?” 

You shake your head. “No thank you. Never could get past the taste.” 

Soap throws his head back as he laughs, slapping Gaz’s shoulder. “I keep tellin’ ye!” 

“Yet you keep drinking it!” Gaz attempts to defend himself. 

“Cause it’s th’ only thing we got!” Soap argues, leaning around Gaz to stare at you. “So, ye a football fan, bonny?” 

“Well, I watched the World Cup a couple times as a kid.” You say. “My household was more of an American football and baseball household. Two of my older brothers played soccer, though they never were very serious about it. Mostly just did it to fulfill my dad’s physical activity extracurricular requirement.” 

“What did you do to fulfill that requirement?” Gaz asks as he takes a sip of his beer. 

“Softball. I was...not good at it.” You laugh. “I could catch and throw, but I don’t think I hit the ball a single time I was at bat.” 

Both of them chuckle, turning back to the TV as the ad ends. “Don’t worry, we’ll turn you into a proper football fan yet.” Gaz says. 

You watch the game with them, and it doesn’t take you long to realize they’re rooting for opposing teams. They explain things to you here and there in between yelling at the TV and each other. Despite how loud they are, you find yourself relaxing further and further, the tension from the last two days easing away, even as the two betas yell at each other over a soccer game. 

Gaz tenses for a second as he feels a sudden weight on his shoulder. He turns his head slightly, noticing you’ve fallen asleep, your head drooping onto his shoulder. His lips quirk up in a smile as he gently nudges Soap. 

“Wha?” Soap asks, turning to look at him. 

He jerks his head to the side, leaning back just slightly so Soap can see. A grin breaks out on the younger man’s face and he pulls out his phone. “Aww, look a’ that. Think we should wake ‘er and get ‘er tae bed?” 

“Nah.” Gaz says. “Let her sleep for now. She probably needs it.” 

You sleep soundly through overtime, Gaz not moving until the post game is over, letting you sleep as long as possible. He knows you have to be tired, after the last few days and the time difference. You looked tired today, with dark circles and droopy eyes. He hates to wake you, but he knows you can’t sleep on the couch. 

He nudges you gently, trying to rouse you. “Hey.” He nudges you again, your head finally lifting off his shoulder. 

You blink sleepily, rubbing at your eyes. You make a quiet sound in protest of being awake, eyes drooping closed again. 

“Come on, love.” He says, keeping you upright. “It’s time for bed.” 

You cover your yawn with your hand, blinking at him sleepily. “Bed?” You murmur sleepily, Gaz smiling softly at how adorable you are in this state. 

“Yeah, you’ll be more comfortable in bed.” He pushes himself to stand, hands on your arms to pull you up. 

You make another sound in protest, nearly falling against his chest when he gets you on your feet. He wraps an arm around you, letting you lean on him as he guides you back to bed, Soap cleaning up the mess they had made. 

You’re more awake once you get to your door, blinking up at him with bleary eyes. “‘S fun.” You murmur, rubbing your eyes. “Should do that more often.” 

“You’re always welcome to join us.” He says. “Get some rest. You’ve had a long week.” He leans forward, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Night, love.” 

He waits until your door is closed before heading back down the hallway towards the rec room, a small smile on his face. 

NEXT ->

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[discodeerdiary]

There's a good reason why I try not to argue publicly with anyone under 18, and it's not that I think they're inherently stupid, it's not that I think their brains are "underdeveloped", it's not that I think they can "do no wrong", it's that I never know how much freedom they actually have to think freely, or how many of their opinions are actually their own. Of course, under-18s *can be* capable of thinking for themselves and developing their own opinions, but (here in the US at least) law and culture put a lot of roadblocks on their ability to do so.

Of course parents and teachers cannot actually control the inner thoughts of the children they wield power over, but they can restrict the information that they have access to, can punish them for saying the wrong things, can cut them off from healthy diverse social groups, and can convince the child their thoughts are being monitored through religion, psychology, and other appeals to higher authority.

Thus if a random teenager says some headass shit in my mentions I have no way of knowing if these are opinions they arrived at on their own, or if they are dogmas forced on them by the people holding food and shelter over their head. If it's the latter, there's nothing to be gained from a public confrontation: people are generally unwilling to change their opinions in a direction that threatens their social support system, and they are especially unwilling to do so at the behest of an internet stranger who cannot offer alternative forms of support. If a teen is genuinely curious about my opinion (that is *if they consent* to a discussion of disagreements) and if I have the mental bandwidth for a potentially emotionally loaded conversation, yeah I'll have it, but I'm not gonna maintain any illusions about my ability to change their mind until they can find a way to live independently.

This is also why my leniency toward the not-yet-adult tends to also extend to the recently-adult. Coming up with a system of beliefs that you're actually willing to stand behind? Shit takes time, and I'm not necessarily gonna expect it of a 20-year-old who may, for all I know, have been living under conditions of near-absolute control up until their 18th birthday. Sure they may be opening their mind in college, or college may be their parents way of keeping them too occupied with busywork to develop new opinions, as they continue to hold financial support over their head. It's around their mid-twenties that I'm willing to go full gloves-off antagonistic with strangers, knowing that they've had a few years of legal and social adulthood under their belt, and that even if they're still financially dependent on their parents it's a different sort of dependence, one where they're given default legal permission to run away from home.

A lot of people are deeply uncomfortable with this line of thinking because if you look too far into the factors that influence young people's thoughts, you eventually have to start asking yourself which forces of dependency are influencing your own beliefs and opinions. Yeah, as an independent adult you may have the option to quit your job, divorce your spouse, ditch your friends, move to another country, but realistically how many of these can you accomplish at the same time? How many do you even want to? And how are all of these forces *in aggregate* setting the acceptable limits of what you're allowed to think and feel? It can be upsetting to think of yourself this way, it can be easier to think of yourself as a true free thinker and children as mindless automatons, but I urge you to think of mentally coercive environments as a continuum rather than a binary. The point is not to free yourself from all influence, but to gain the ability to see yourself as an influenced mind, and to have compassion for those dealing with all the bullshit you don't have to anymore.

[hunxi-guilai]

so I know that a lot of chinese names are references to specific poems. Is there a way to determine this (vs general auspicious meaning) and which poem specifically? I'd love to be able to figure this out for character names and I haven't been able to find any resources (in case it's helpful, I'd say I'm my understanding is maybe HSK4-level so I can clumsily make my way through the chinese internet with the help of a dictionary)

feel free to make this public so that others can benefit if you have any suggestions

oof... unfortunately I suspect that this, along with one's repertoire of chengyu, is something that one simply Just Learns with reading more. my personal repertoire of poetry is embarrassingly thin, so the horrible horrible process I've been going through is, well, throwing the name into a search bar and hoping for the best.

here's an example of how I (think I) went about doing this for Xiao Xingchen's name, way back when I wrote this post:

I went ahead and dropped "星尘 诗词" ("Xingchen poetry") into the search bar, which turned up this:

Generally speaking, I'll only put the name (minus the surname) because putting the character's full name into a search bar will probably turn up the character themselves, and if someone's name is being derived from a poem, it's usually independent of the surname anyway.

Xiao Xingchen's name is an interesting example because it doesn't quite come from a poem, but it doesn't not come from a poem. you can see that the search engine has automatically assumed that I am looking for poems about constellations, as "星辰" and "星尘" are homonyms, and one of these is more commonly seen. I usually consider that a solid indication that "星尘" (the name) is a novel formation of characters in a name, and not likely a poetic reference.

but! in for a penny, etc. I'm a huge fan of the first search result, gushicimingju, since it's a solid database of poetry and some prose. clicking into that listing informs me that gushicimingju is turning up. oh my. 119 possible matches:

note that these are matches for "星辰" (constellation), not actually our character's name. still! you can click in and peruse the selection if you'd like.

now that you're on gushicimingju's site, you can also use the search function within the site to search for more exact matches, without worrying that you'll accidentally activate the fandom itself.

looks like there's a few matches for "晓星," but nothing for the full name.

so! gushicimingju is a solid database I like to refer to most of the time. if for some reason I'm feeling particularly academically rigorous, I might also do some searches on ctext as sometimes names will come out of famous turns of phrases (a la Zhao Yun 赵云 / Zhao Zilong 赵子龙 from that post I linked earlier) rather than poems. searching the dictionary sometimes (Pleco, or zdic) doesn't hurt either. basically, I throw spaghetti at the search engine wall to see what results come back for these characters in this particular order to try and get the original referent (if any) to show up; I'll probably give up after a few permutations of search terms if nothing is actively jumping out at me

but back to the search results: sometimes, if your character is famous enough, straight up searching for "what poem is this character's name from?" will help you find like-minded people on baidu zhidao (basically yahoo answers):

although of course, take baidu zhidao result with all of the salt you would take with any yahoo answers (look for alternate sources to validate, good for a laugh most of the time)

best of luck!

[harunayuuka2060]

MC: ...

Leona: *has been "subtly" observing them*

MC: ...

Falena's wife: ...

Falena's wife: Back to our discussion.

MC: Yes. You're hoping that I would be of help to His Majesty now that his health is deteriorating.

Falena's wife: Yes. Would it be possible for you to extend his life?

MC: There are factors that we need to consider. Does he still want to rule this country?

Falena's wife: No. He wants to live longer so he would be able to witness Cheka and Liora grow up into fine princes, and your second child to be born.

MC: Hmm. I could strengthen his heart, however... He likes to eat things that aren't good for him.

Falena's wife: *chuckles* We could just instruct Kifaj to be strict on him.

MC: In that case, I will start on the treatment.

MC: How are you feeling, Your Majesty?

The king: I'm feeling great. *chuckles* I think I could yell better on Kifaj now.

Kifaj: And I will do better to ignore you if needed.

The king: Anyway, is it true there will be a second-born?

MC: It will not until two years, Your Majesty.

The king: Oh. It takes that long?

MC: Yes.

The king: Oh. I see. How come? Isn't pregnancy supposed to be nine months?

MC: It's different with transcendentals, Your Majesty.

The king: *sigh* Well then, I guess I have to wait that long.

The king: I wish it's a girl this time so the Kingscholar will have their little princess.

MC: ...

MC: A princess it is.

The king and Kifaj: ...

The king: That's wonderful! Kifaj! Buy everything that will suit our baby princess!

Kifaj: Yes, Your Majesty!

MC: Again, the baby will not be born until two years.

The king: That is fine! Knowing that it will be a princess is enough!

Leona: *staring sternly at them from behind*

MC: *carrying Liora*

Baby Liora: *seems curious why his father is staring*

MC: What is it, Leona?

Leona: *walks and moves in front of them* The request you've been trying to delay.

MC: ...

MC: Sharing your mana to me is out of the question.

Leona: Tch. But I want to help you and I don't want to see not waking up for days again.

MC: ...

MC: How long will you try to insist on this?

Leona: I don't know. Maybe until you give me an alternative?

MC: ...

MC: I could give you one, but it would cost you a great inconvenience.

Leona: What is it?

MC: Cater our daughter for me.

Leona: ...

Leona: How?

MC: Like how I catered Liora. I will transfer the seed in your heart.

MC: You must keep your emotions stable.

Leona: Alright. I can do that.

MC: ...

MC: Alright. Come closer.

Leona: Yes- Mmp!

MC: *pulls themselves away* Give her back to me after two years. The same way that I did just now.

Leona: *blushing* That's a kiss you-

MC: I wouldn't call it as such. Now leave and stop bothering me for today.

Baby Liora: *waves at his father*

Leona: ...

Ruggie: *almost got choked on his food*

Ruggie: *then laughs*

Leona: *frowns at him*

Ruggie: That's a lot of trust, man. To think that MC allowed you to take care of your daughter.

Leona: Yes. But in the end, they're still the one who's going to birth it.

Ruggie: Though, are you sure you're up for the job? Two years is quite a long time, you know?

Leona: Yes. What do you take me for?

Ruggie: Impatient, easily annoyed-

Leona: *glares at him*

Ruggie: That. That's what I'm talking about. MC has always been cool-headed that's why Prince Liora has no complications and they carried him for three and a half-years.

Ruggie: I wonder how you are going to manage that.

Leona: It's my future daughter we're talking about here, Ruggie. I will do everything for her.

Ruggie: Okay. Why don't we start first by you eating vegetables?

Leona: *scowls*

Ruggie: It's for the baby princess. *amused by his expression*

Falena: I'm glad you have entrusted the development process to Leona.

MC: He wanted to help so I let him.

Falena: *happy sigh* I could already imagine what my niece would be like. *chuckles* *is imagining a snobbish baby and will frown at the sight of anyone*

MC: *knows what he's thinking and couldn't agree more*

[blackmoonoracle]

PICK A CARD - THE PATH AHEAD

PILE ONE

I feel like a lot is being hidden from pile one honestly, like- there are a LOT of blessings coming to you guys. One big blessing may be that you will be entering into some sort of partnership. Likely a business ordeal that is really going to help your reputation. I'm talking a lot of recognition, maybe even being given access to certain resources that are rather hard to ascertain for most people. This partnership could be with a fire sign woman, or some sort of witch. Or YOU could be a fire sign woman or a witch. I'm seeing where something you've been working on for a very long time is going to start paying off. For some it could be a skill, people could be giving you recognition for how thorough you are. It's possible that some people are going to be confused by your success? You could've been struggling with stagnancy for quite some time, and then it's like out of the blue suddenly everything is just paying off all at once. It's like people saw the work you were putting in, and they just sort of figured it was all for nothing maybe? Good on you for not letting the way people talked, viewed, or projected onto you keep you from going after your desires. You may be isolating yourself from family due to some kind of trauma, or perhaps that has already recently happened. It seems like you're already a bit of a loner, or hard for others to read? So this could be you abandoning a family dynamic, or refusing to participate in some sort of cycle any longer for the sake of benefiting an abuser or keeping the peace & happiness of others. You're learning how to prioritize yourself. You are releasing mental and emotional blockages in love, that have kept you from having emotional peace. Learning a new skill, and learning how to move in silence. I feel like you will be taking on a new endeavour and you are not going to be telling ANYONE about this. Keep your passion, don't forget who you are, and if people try to cause drama or fight with you or bring up past grudges don't even put energy into engaging with them. State your piece if need be and keep it moving, these people are only seeking access to your energy because they delude themselves out of admitting their regrets. Trust that the right doors will be opened for you, keep things to yourself for the time being and trust your friends. They're in your corner, they're NOT trying to hurt you. If this pile resonated, and you'd like to book a personal reading based on this particular topic you can message me and tell me your pile number for a 45$ in depth reading on this topic.

PILE TWO A LOT of pentacles came out for this pile, so more than likely Taurus, capricorn, Virgo, and 10th, 6th, and 2nd house energy are present here. I feel like a lot of you are rather self centered at times, there's nothing wrong with knowing when to prioritize yourself, but I do feel like there is a lesson coming up regarding your reputation and your tendency to hoard resources of some kind? It feels like you can be rather argumentative at times, or that alternatively you have a lot of internal conflict regarding your reputation and what success means to you. Even if you are not hoarding a resource of some kind, the common theme here is stubbornness. I see you WANT to be in this King of Pentacles energy, feeling like you have financial security AND luxurious amounts of spending money. Yet, I also feel like sometimes you get caught up in money and materialism. There is more to life than money, and with the 2 of cups on the bottom of the deck this could actually be about romance. The lovers was beneath it. I feel like you are needing to tap in more with your feminine side, maybe spending more time nurturing your ideas and desires. Learning how to back up what you want to create, there is a need for you to develop your space of comfort more. Give yourself more peace, and connect with those you love more frequently. Basically, from what I can tell spirit is asking you to take control and make some changes in the way you are engaging with your loved ones. Be more present, and stop projecting unrealistic expectations onto yourself and others. It can make you pretty crabby at times from what I can tell, and it puts you in a position to where you can be a bit greedy- or just stubborn in general about what you think should be expected from others. Be more accountable for the role you play in your misery & learn to let go of what YOU think is best. The universe is trying to show you an easier path, but you are scared of letting go of what you've created. Things move in seasons. Relax, and let shit happen, it doesn't always need to be to a T. Some of you also need to express your thoughts and feelings more frequently. My throat feels tight, and weird, and like blocked? So definitely work on your communication as well. Keep going, and know that you are in control of your path. If any of you are into energy cleansing, do that more frequently. Sleep more often, stop letting people get to you, or when you fall or fail, just shake it off. Don't let it control or affect you too deeply. sometimes it just is what it is. Lastly, pay attention to signs in the form of butterflies, and listen to more music. Dance, get creative, paint, host a kickback. Do SOMETHING to get your creative juices flowing. If this pile resonated, and you'd like to book a personal reading based on this particular topic you can message me and tell me your pile number for a 45$ in depth reading on this topic.

PILE THREE

I feel like this pile has gone through a lot of trials and tribulations recently, I'm picking up on either a water sign woman or maternal energy doing a lot of manipulative stuff. It feels to me like there is someone in your life that is using their emotions to align you with their desired outcomes. It feels like you are very much in your own idea of what life should be and how you can develop that for yourself. I see where you may have a creative endeavor that you really want to pay off. You may stress and have frequent anxiety about fulfilling this desire due to this energy and the way it engages with you. You're being asked to keep your goals and ideas in mind. By choosing yourself and your truest desires over what this person has decided is best for you you will find true healing and self expression. I feel that this individual has very black & white thinking and a position of authority somehow. Seeing as the Justice card came out. There may be an influence coming in from a passionate, witchy, or fire sign woman who is teaching you some form of manifestation or spell work possibly? This could also be you tapping into your witchy side. I just keep hearing witchy woman. Your outlook on life is being shifted significantly in the coming future in order for your path to your desires to unfold properly. You may be forced to leave things behind, you may have to cut your losses regarding financial support from a family member of some kind and take things into your own hands. I'm seeing where you will be forced to let go of some sort of comfort zone of some kind. Because it is actively blocking you from achieving your goals. It's being shown here where your desires and your current circumstances quite literally cannot develop together. Like it's impossible. You need to learn that sometimes, especially if this is about leaving the house and moving to be on your own- that you have to be willing to take risks. Things are not meant to always be easy, but you are a strong and willing soul who can accomplish whatever your heart desires. Find a new outlook, and really ask yourself if your desires are so unattainable. If this pile resonated, and you'd like to book a personal reading based on this particular topic you can message me and tell me your pile number for a 45$ in depth reading on this topic.

[vivianbernadetteaurora]

Astrological placements

I’ve noticed in the acting industries there is a lot of Scorpio Sun, and Aries moons.🌓 me the porn industry the acting the reality TV or any other kind of industry you look it up and you’ll see exactly what I mean the Kardashians 2 of them have Aries placements Kendall is a Aries moon with a Scorpio sun so there you go kris is a Scorpio 🌞

 alt alternative girls either have a lot of air replacements, fireplace Ments and possibly water rising

Can moons the easiest people to vent to because they like to vent themselves, especially me who is a Scorpio 🌒 to the love of my life was a cancer moon and we used to sit in bitch all day, sense of that we just both needed to learn about our emotions a lot

As I’ve said before, Pisces moons of cult, who like to think that they can make women be exactly the way they want them to be and it’s proven to work here were a few examples Kanye West, Hugh Hefner on a larger scale, and Prince on a large scale to

Cancer women as it was some of the most strongest women I’ve ever ever met in my life, they hold extremely well, and not crybabies like everybody calls them  to them in the house and everything they’ve ever owned has been in their house.

Aries or actually very nosy people,. on the down low.

Sagittarius people are actually very passive aggressive, the rising ones and other placements same with Libra moons 🌙 I know two people are close to me who have this placement both placements, don’t know which one is which sometimes.

Capricorn mars  very weird in bed, like a dead stare and if you’re into that and you love them, maybe it’s not so bad but when I was with someone who was supposed to love, it was very creepy

Scorpio Mars, are the best in bed they’re so dirty they will literally let you do anything, golden showers putting stuff up you know where, and letting you Degrate them.

Andrew Tate, is a Pisces Mars, and they’re actually very good at debates and delegating.

And being objective. they are, quite good at playing fake as well, look at Paris Hilton and she did it for years. She did the baby voice the blue contacts.

Cancer rising can come off is quite an abrasive, but I think there’s some of the best parents and some of the best people too .

[foxcantswim]

hii, I was searching on your account to see if you were accepting requests but I didn't find anything, so if you really aren't accepting feel free to ignore my request.

I was thinking about your latest Vanessa work and the question arose about how Vanessa would act if Vanny's personality controlled her and she flirted with Reader

It's a little strange but I love jealous Vanessa

FNAF Movie / / Vanessa x F!Reader x Vanny [Like She Does]

(gif by me)

Vanessa's alternate personality, Vanny, likes to flirt with you. Vanessa doesn't like it. Contents: Jealous!Vanessa, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship Warnings: Split Personality, Vanny leaving marks on Reader, Vanessa being sad :( WC: 1,417

Part 2 (Smut 18+)

"Hey there, Y/N~" a glitched voice fills your ears from behind you.

You leaned further into your chair, "What do you want, Vanny? Can't you see I'm busy working?"

Every other day Vanny would pay you a visit whilst you worked the night shift. You couldn't quite decide if you preferred her or Vanessa... But you did love both of them equally, they were pretty much the same person after all. However, Vanessa would disagree. She wanted you all to herself and she hated the Vanny side of her. You knew she couldn't control her other personality and you never judged her for it, you simply embraced it and learned to get used to it.

"Don't be mean, Y/N," Vanny draped her arms around your shoulders from behind, laughing into your ear, "I'm just here to keep your pretty self company."

You couldn't help but sigh in her embrace, "Mhm... Can't wait for you to annoy me."

Vanny removed her arms from you and turned your chair around to face her.

You rolled your eyes at her attire, "Do you have to wear that awful thing?" you nodded at the rabbit suit she was wearing.

"You don't like it?" Vanny cocked her head.

"Not really, no."

She quickly removed the rabbit mask from her head and threw it to the ground, her blonde hair was a mess and there was almost a crazy manic look in her eyes.

"Better?" she said with a smirk.

You couldn't help but smile upon seeing her face, "Better."

Vanny strutted over to you and wasted no time in straddling your waist, "You know what the only good thing about not wearing the mask is?"

"W-What?" you gulped harshly as Vanny's fabric covered hands planted themselves on your shoulders.

Her smirk grew before she leaned in closer to kiss you deeply, you closed your eyes in response as you felt her smile into the kiss.

She pulled away, laughing as you let out a whine, "I can do that," Vanny said, pride in her voice.

You took a shaky breath before shaking your head, "You know Vanessa hates it when you do things like that."

The smile quickly dropped on the blonde's face, "Well I don't care what Vanessa thinks. It isn't fair that she gets to have you more than I do." The pout on her face was beyond adorable. Anybody else would be terrified of having this crazed killer rabbit in their lap, but not you... You loved this woman so dearly.

"Maybe she'll be okay with you and I at some point, okay?" you said, hopefully, "I love you both, you know? I would never have one of you without the other."

You hated 'betraying' Vanessa like this... But Vanny was her. You prayed that she would accept Vanny easing her way into the relationship.

"Vanessa is even more stubborn than me," Vanny rolled her eyes, clearly not hopeful.

You brushed a messy strand of hair out of her face, "Come on now... You know Vanessa listens to me. It's hard for her to say no to this face."

Vanny smiled slightly before burying her face into your neck, "That makes two of us."

You happily held her in your arms, a blush creeping up onto your cheeks, "I know Vanessa is going to be so annoyed when she finds out you've been flirting again."

"Mm I'm simply just claiming what's mine," Vanny kissed your neck, her teeth scraping your skin.

Instinctively, you tilted your head to the side. You knew that Vanessa was going to see the marks, but you were powerless to stop the blonde on top of you.

"Van..." you muttered, your arms tightening around her.

"Poor little Y/N. Vanessa is going to be so angry. She wishes she could do what I do to you," her teeth bit into your skin. Vanny was always the more intense one out of the two.

Vanny soothed the multiple marks on your neck with her tongue, smirking as she did.

A laugh escaped the blonde as she pulled away from your neck, she groaned soon after, "Stupid stupid Vanessa... She's trying to regain control."

A hand came up to smooth over your neck, "Vanessa is going to kill me."

"That's my job," Vanny leaned in close, that crazed look in her eye much more visible.

You really couldn't tell if she was joking or not...

She ran a finger down the side of your face and down your jaw, "She can't keep me away from you forever," her lips met yours again, finally.

That was when you felt her twitch in your arms, a sharp gasp escaping her.

The blonde quickly pulled away from you, shock on her face as she looked won at the position she was in. Her legs still firmly straddling your waist.

"Nessy?" you whispered, searching her face for answers.

"Oh shit, Y/N! I-I'm sorry, did Vanny-?"

You held her close, stopping her from moving, "Vanny didn't hurt me if that's what you're wondering."

Vanessa couldn't stop herself from looking down at her attire. A grimace crossed her face as she realised she was wearing the disgusting rabbit suit (that was definitely covered in old blood stains and sweat...).

"I hate this thing so much," Vanessa whispered, slightly upset with herself for letting Vanny take control.

Truth was, you actually hated the suit too. But it was a part of who Vanny was, and you weren't about to start hating her because of it.

"It's not so bad," you tried to reassure her, your hands rubbing her sides in comfort.

Vanessa scanned over you, still not trusting herself or Vanny. Her eyes locked onto your neck eventually.

A frown appeared on her face, "I'm guessing she did that," her voice was low.

"Come on, Ness, it's nothing-"

"You know I hate it when she flirts with you. And now she does this?"

You moved a hand up to cup her cheek, "Vanessa. Please... I love her like I love you. You're the same person. I know you don't see it that way, but please try to understand."

Vanessa shook her head, a pout on her face. She could feel the jealousy raging within her a lot more than usual.

You leaned forward to place a kiss on her cheek, "I'm still all yours, Nessy. Always. I love you, Vanessa. I'm here to accept who you really are, and that includes Vanny. Is that okay?"

A part of Vanessa had been shocked that you were okay with her crazy side. Vanny. She had always been so afraid to show anyone that side of her. Seeing you being so open to understand her made her heart melt, it was always so hard to disagree with you.

She nodded, "I-I can't promise that I will be able to accept this any time soon. But if you think that's what is best..." her eyes drifted away from you.

"No, Vanessa," you cupped both her cheeks with your hands, making her look at you, "I want all of you in on this. If you aren't ready yet, then I will let Vanny down easily. Your feelings matter to me, okay? I was yours first. Not hers."

Vanessa couldn't stop the tears from flooding into her eyes.

"I'm afraid she'll hurt you. I'm afraid I'll hurt you."

You smiled, "I know, Nessy. We'll be okay."

"You'll tell me if she does anything to hurt you, right?"

"Of course I will. I won't keep anything from you."

Vanessa nodded, feeling slightly relieved. Her heart still ached at the thought of you giving more attention to Vanny than to herself, but she knew she would have to accept it one day. Right now, she was more than happy to just sit in your arms and take it slow.

She placed a soft kiss on your lips in thanks.

"Now... I think it's about time you took that rabbit suit off and let me get back to work."

You were glad nothing bad had happened during your shift. It was hard to concentrate when there was a beautiful blonde with two personalities bugging you all night after all.

Taglist: @marvelwomen-simp ;

[rawmeknockout]

Give me more CILF (Creator I'd like to fuck) writing! Please, I beg of you!

an assortment!

Rodimus is the young, hot, eager- to-please Captain that wants to spark you up soooo bad. There's just something so hot about the way you care so fiercely for your sparkling, it really gets his engine revving. He knows he's younger than you, but that doesn't make him any less of a mech! In fact, he's got all the energy and stamina a sire could need to look after any (potential) future sparklings you might have together. He's always looking to impress you, almost tripping over himself to prove he's the mech for you. Drift has heard enough of his delulu daydreams about how much he'd like to give you another. He's always been attracted to older mechs (hard not to be when your entire population is as long-lived as Cybertronians. He may be your boss, a headstrong and over-confident sort of guy, but he could be gentle if you wanted him to be! Let him show you!

Megatron is much quieter in his appreciation of you. It's not that the thought hasn't crossed his mind that you would look SO good carrying his sparkling, it's just that he's well aware how awful a decision that would be. Doesn't stop him from cranking his shaft to the idea. He's perfectly happy to look after the sparkling you already have when you need a break. Some might say he's the very last mech that should be in charge of looking after a sparkling, but he believes that some Autobots are far too self-sacrificing. Sure, he's now committed to the Autobots, but he still holds his personal belief that Cybertronians have value far greater than any self-perceived benefit to others. He will teach your sparkling that they exist first for themselves and for no other to take advantage of: be it a system or an individual. It just sort of helps that looking after your sparkling and ingratiating himself to them also puts him in closer proximity to you.

Ratchet won't ever admit it but the prospect of having a sparkling has always been so tempting for him. Of course, he was never in any position to have a sparkling of his own, first with his practice in Dead End and then the war, and now that he's quite a bit older the chances of that have gone down tremendously. In fact, he sees it as almost bordering on negligent to conceive one. But when he sees you with your sparkling his fantasies and daydreams of a domestic life come surging to the forefront of his processor. It's hard not to feel envy towards you, even if you're forced to care for your sparkling alone, but he tries to stamp out those feelings. You're not deserving of his resentment because he chose not to have bitlets. When he gets to know you better he feels all the worse for having been envious of you, and incredibly grateful that you would let him look after your sparkling. Even if the bitlet isn't his, Ratchet is attached to your offspring like no other and is always fussing after their (and your) care. If Drift notices a difference in Ratchet's demeanor, a certain wistfulness about him, he doesn't bring it up. He knows Ratchet would simply be reluctant to give himself what he wants, although Ratchet carrying the sparkling isn't the only option...

Whirl thinks it's hot. Okay, sure he thinks a lot of things are sexy that aren't supposed to be (that one time Brainstorm's optic was hanging from the socket, for example) but this one of normal! He insists. It's not everyday you meet a Cybertronian who has carried their own offspring. It's sort of an uncommon practice and definitely the most dangerous given the alternatives, but that's part of what makes it so sexy. Rung has informed him that is, actually, a little fucked up (not his words). Whirl would like to know what you looked like carrying. Not every carrier's frame will change drastically, in fact many don't if their armor is bulky enough, but maybe yours did. The fact your frame is so... powerful in a sense, resilient, and durable is kind of a turn on for him. But then again, Whirl gets heated if there's a gun pointed at him, so maybe it is fucked up. Your frame went through all the taxing processes of creating another Cybertronian, and you didn't die! What he wouldn't give to put your frame through it's paces again... Ultra Magnus has gently tried to convince you to get a restraining order against Whirl.

[heliads]

Hello!! So excited that your requests are open! Would you do a Peter Pevensie X reader where they get trapped after battle (maybe in a cave waiting for the other pevensies to reach them) and the reader is injured so Peter has to care for her and some fluff and comfort?? Thank you! 💗💗💗 If you don't choose to write it thats ok!

masterlist

There are two soldiers in a cave, waiting for rescue. One is a king; the other, one of his subjects. He is sitting upright, alternating between anxiously scanning the mouth of the cave for intruders and staring back down at the girl. She is less active, but that is due in part to the ever growing pool of blood underneath her ribs. 

They have been here for quite some time already, and although the king will not admit it, he fears that it will be quite some time again before they are rescued. He must have faith, though, for both of them. It is hard not to worry. Not when Peter Pevensie can picture so plainly how they got here, and why they were forced into the cave to begin with. 

They were not supposed to be attacked, but it happened anyway. Narnia is a kingdom, and kingdoms fall. Rival kings lust for power that isn’t theirs, and peaceful homelands must rally to protect themselves. Soldiers turn to bitter struggles, cowards turn to run. You had two choices when the banner of war was lifted:  stay and fight, or leave and live.

You chose to stay. Will that be what kills you, wanting to be there for your friends? No one can tell for certain, but your blood is darkening the stones beneath you with a deeper stain than you’d like, and the thought of rescue is quite far off. There is no guarantee that anyone will reach you in time, regardless of what Peter is trying to whisper to you. There is no guarantee that you can hear him at all anymore.

Instead, you can hear him yesterday morning, strangely strong despite the early hour of the morning. Narnian spies had come back around dawn bearing news of an approaching army, one that didn’t look friendly. The Pevensies had been carefully monitoring threats to their kingdom for years, but no one could tell for sure that one would attack until they were already on horseback with hands on weapons.

There had been limited time for defense. Peter had rallied his army and their allies, and his siblings frantically evacuated the surrounding townspeople to a safer location, all the while battening down the hatches at home so that Cair Paravel would not be taken. Battle plans were drafted long ago, but it is one thing to write them up in the safety of peace, and something else entirely to have to use them.

The attackers didn’t arrive until midday. They gave an announcement that Narnia was to surrender peacefully or fall violently. Standing on the ramparts of the castle, looking down on the swarms of soldiers, you could feel anger burning in your chest at the insult of it all. As if Narnia would fall to a paltry foe like some neighboring king. As if there was any among your ranks that would not fight to their last breath to defend their kingdom.

Peter had given an answer somewhat along those lines, although, as coached by Susan, with a little more tact. You could tell he was fighting to keep his rage in check, though, if the red crescents imprinted into his palms from where his fingernails had bit into his palms were any sort of warning sign.

After that, the only thing left was to go to war. Before the fighting started, Peter had pulled you aside and asked if you really wanted to do this. You were a soldier of Narnia, a force fighting for good, but more than that, you were his friend, and Peter did not want to lose anyone if he could avoid it.

Tucked into a quiet alcove of Cair Paravel, golden hair rusted over with the shadows of the dark corner, Peter’s hands had tightened around yours as he said, “You can leave now, Y/N. If you want to. I want you to be safe.”

You had shaken your head. “Absolutely not. Narnia is my home, Peter. I can’t leave when she needs me.”

Peter had sighed ruefully, but the spark of pride behind his worried expression had told you what you wanted to know the most:  having you there with him meant more than he could possibly describe. The two of you are friends, just friends, but sometimes, you think that the sort of friendship you have with him has long outstripped any sort of bond of camaraderie either of you have held with anyone else. If you die, you will do it by his side. If he falls, he wants you there to see it.

Thus the battle was waged. You donned your armor as quickly as you could, grabbing your weapons before helping the other soldiers. It was time to defend your homeland. No cause could be more important. No risk could be as worthy.

The sun is setting over the hills; Peter cannot see much of it, tucked into the cave as the two of you are, but the loss of light is enough to cause him significant worry. The attackers, although arrived around noon the previous day, had waited until the dark of night to close their ranks and begin the fight. It had added a deadly edge of danger to an already perilous battle, what with the reduced visibility. 

The battle had been fought well through the night and into the next dawn, but Peter is not sure that another midnight spent in this stone refuge will prove a good idea for either of you. Mainly for you; Peter looks down again, noticing that your eyes flutter closed more than they stay open, and your skin looks dull and tired even without the loss of light. He pulls you closer to him, shuts his eyes, and prays to anyone who will hear, anyone worthwhile listening, that someone will save you. Not even him. It just has to be you.

Night falls and you hear the clang of steel against steel reverberating around you. Your soldiers, though kept in rigorous practice, have not been to war in a while. They do not exercise the cruelty that the enemy fighters seem to have in spades. What you do have is heart, though, and Narnia has taught you that even the most formidable of odds can be overturned in time.

Slowly, surely, light begins to creep over the sky, and the Narnians manage to push their attackers back from Cair Paravel, over the uneven, rocky ground and towards the mountains once more. Smooth ground twists itself with stone outcroppings, making the fight even trickier than it was before. You step over bodies on the ground, unable to tell whether they are friend or foe, but you force yourself to keep your head. It would not do to lose control now.

Dawn is upon you at last, touching rosy fingers over scarlet blood and pearlescent bone. There is no such thing as a good fight, an honorable war, and if you return home, the lingering knowledge of what has been done upon this land will sit with you for a long time to come. When you come home, that is. After all of this, you must survive. Narnia must survive.

A shout, a scream; soldiers pour over the hills again, and you realize with a chill that your enemies had reinforcements in line, waiting for something like this to happen. You managed to get yourself stuck on the outskirts of the battle in an attempt to go after some higher ranking officials in the enemy army, and now you’re lost in the downstream current of dozens of opposing soldiers flooding towards you. 

Too many for you to fight by yourself, that much is certain, but you have no choice now. They encircle you, and even as you manage to take down some, there are too many of them. One raises his sword as you parry another soldier, and when you blink, it has pierced your armor, threading your ribs. It doesn’t hurt and then it does, an agony like lightning rattling through your entire body.

You might scream, you’re not sure of it. You wait for them to kill you, but strangely enough, the death blow does not come. Someone catches you before you fall, and the early morning sun shines on golden curls. Peter. He’s found you, somehow, in the tumult of the battle. You can just hear him shouting to his men that he’s going to take you to cover, and then he’s picked you up, cradling you in his arms like a bride, and running for shelter.

There’s a cave not far from here. Peter stumbles in, twisting past boulders and turns in the tunnel before he gently puts you down behind the cover of a rocky outcropping. There are too many of them out there, running past the mouth of the cave, so Peter does not dare leave you even when you tell him that you’ll be fine. It is a lie. He knows it. He stays.

Peter tells you that, despite the arrival of the enemy reinforcements, he believes the battle will be settled in favor of the Narnians. The enemy fighters were desperate, they knew they were going to lose, which was why they called in more men. They’re still being forced past the Narnian borders, though, even with a king and a soldier pulled out of the fight like this.

Peter won’t risk leaving you, not with the precarious shape you’re in. Besides, the landscape is so messed up with rocks that he is not sure that he could find this particular cave if he steps outside of it to fight again. You can hear the shouts of men, but neither of you can tell whether they’re Narnian or not. To shout back is to risk death.

Instead, the two of you stay there in the cave, feeling the hours tick by, unable to do a thing about it. Peter grows more restless as you grow more still. He tells you that his siblings will look for the two of you, that when they come, you will be safe.

“We’ll be fine,” he says, voice unnaturally slow, like a schoolboy repeating a lesson he’s learned by heart, “We’ll be fine.” You’re not entirely sure if he believes it.

And then it is dark again, and there is still no one here. Peter does not know if you are alive. He is telling himself that you are, because to keep up desperate hope is far better than giving in to the fear that he has lost you like this. There is a chance you have survived; the enemy soldier who hit you had slashed you across the front instead of stabbing you directly, which is what Peter did when he stumbled upon the scene and realized that he was about to lose the only person that matters to him more than anything else. We all have our demons, our secrets.

A scratching sound at the mouth of the cave, somewhat like a mouse but heavier, too, more purposeful. Could an enemy soldier have come back to finish the job? They may not have been able to take Cair Paravel, but they could at least slaughter the High King while they were running away.

Peter feels his entire body tense, his hand resting on his sword. He dares not draw it, too afraid of risking the noise. He’ll fight for both of them if he has to. He’ll keep them alive a little longer. Y/N does not stir by his side.

And then– a voice, just a few meters away. “Peter?”

It’s his sister. It’s Susan. Peter lets out a gasp of relief that could be a sob and calls back as loudly as he dares, “Susan?”

A clattering of footsteps and three siblings descend into the cave. Edmund’s eyes are wide and scared, but the fear starts to go away when Peter carefully gets to his feet and pulls his younger brother into an embrace. Ed starts to say something about how he thought– he thought– but Peter says it’s okay, he is not hurt, but then the words roll back on his tongue because Y/N is not okay, and therefore he cannot be, either.

Lucy has already found her friend lying motionless on the ground and hurriedly rummages through the small red bag on her side, reaching for the healing cordial she received so long ago. She carefully lets a few drops fall onto Y/N’s mouth, and the entirety of several millennia passes before Y/N coughs quietly and starts to sit up.

Peter falls to his knees, wrapping his arms around her. Distantly, he hears Susan ushering his siblings away, something about wanting to give them space, but he does not care, he does not care because she is alright, Y/N is alright, and that means he is, too, very much alright.

Y/N whispers in his ear, voice still hoarse but healing, slowly. It’s okay, they have time. “You stayed?”

“Yes,” Peter says back, choking on some unnameable emotion, “I did. I would never leave you, Y/N. I– I love you. You know that.”

She does. “I love you too,” she says, and Peter can find it within himself to smile at last, to help her up, to walk back with her to the castle. They have time. It is okay. They will all, somehow, be alright after this, and that means that far fewer worries crown Peter’s head tonight and all nights after that.

requested by @ajwild220, i hope you enjoy!

narnia tag list: empty for now, message me to be added!

[mire1li]

Blade and Kafka got too silly!

Kidnappers shouldn't be... hot... right?... right? - Blade

Alternatively - Kafka's version!

You looked at the two people standing in front of you. Though they weren’t exactly paying attention, they were still there and whispering stuff amongst themselves. 

You recognised both to be Kafka and Blade from the Xianzhou wanted posters. Jing Yuan had warned you of possible dangers of the job he offered you. Being his secretary certainly wasn’t easy, and the situation you’d gotten yourself into wasn’t helping.

Nevertheless, you never expected to actually get kidnapped. Especially by those two. 

“Oh~ you’re awake” Kafka suddenly spoke up, bringing both hers, and Blade’s, attention to you. 

You quietly sighed and looked at the wall to your right. A simple, light grey wall, with a few scratches and indents. 

“Let me get straight to the point…” she continued, her tone switching to a more serious one as she walked closer to you. 

“We brought you here for information. Of course… Silver Wolf told me of your position, it’s quite easy to infer you know as much as that General does.” 

You could faintly hear Blade scoff in the background, as he stayed where he was. Though, ‘Silver Wolf’ was a name you didn’t recognise. In fact, you had no idea there was a third member of the stellaron hunters, which then brings about the question: are there more?

Deciding not to think about it too much, you looked back at Kafka and narrowed your eyes. 

“I have the right to remain silent” 

Kafka only chuckled as she heard your reply. 

“Maybe on the Xianzhou” she rejoiced, before turning around and walking back towards Blade, though stopping half-way for some reason. She turned to look over her shoulder at you before chuckling again. 

“So…-” she was about to say something, when a short girl with grey hair slammed the door open, holding a gaming console in her hands. 

“Kafka, you’d said you’d buy me that game today. Let’s go, you owe it to me.” She exclaimed, crossing her arms. 

“I did do that, didn’t I?” Kafka pondered 

“Well… I suppose i can come along. Let’s go, silver wolf!” She starts walking towards the door, when, out of nowhere, Blade draws his sword on her, stopping her from leaving.

He glared at her, making his annoyance clear. 

“And I’m supposed to stay here whilst you’re gone?” 

“That’s right. I’m sure you can handle this, Bladie. It’s not a difficult task to get information out of someone~” the woman grinned and pushed his sword to the side, casually continuing her walk to the shorter girl. 

“Well then, I’ll be leaving now. We’ll be gone a while, anyway… bye!~” she exclaimed, taking the girl, whom you now know to be Silver Wolf, with her and shutting the door. 

“Kafka…” he hissed, keeping his glare fixated on the door for a while. It was safe to say you felt… endangered… he certainly wasn’t happy, and if you didn’t cooperate, he’d probably turn to violence. Though you couldn’t be completely sure. You’d only heard stories about him from Jing Yuan. 

“So….” You dragged out the ‘o’ sound, causing him to turn his glare to you.

You chuckled nervously, as he sheathed his sword and went to sit down, seemingly gathering his thoughts before finally looking back at you. 

“Tell me what you know and we won’t have a problem.” Blade dictated, as if he wasn’t giving you a choice. However, you’re good at finding loopholes and getting out of such situations… as new as being kidnapped may be… 

You pretended to think for a while, glancing back at the slightly damaged wall to your right. 

“Hm… no… I don’t think I will” 

“I’m not giving you a say in the matter.” He immediately replied, in a harsher tone than before. 

“So unfortunate…” you said, sighing very over-dramatically. You could tell you were getting on his nerves, although, you didn’t really care.

You assumed that, since they want information, he won’t harm you in any way. 

Blade glared at you, sighing. 

“Tell me what you know. If you just hand over the information then you won’t have to stay here any longer.” 

“Tempting, tempting….” you repeated before adding “but what if I want to stay here?” 

“And why would you want that?” He asked, confused. 

You stood in silence for a moment, giving him a deadpan look.

“Have you even seen yourself?!” You exclaimed, using your hand to motion at him. Blade looked at you, his confusion not waning. 

“What?” He asked after a moment, still not understanding what you meant. 

You stood confidently, placing your hand on your chin, in a thinking pose whilst looking at him with a slight smirk. 

“Well, you heard me! There’s a whole 5-star meal sitting in front of me!” 

“What?” He asked again in slight disbelief, slightly sitting up in his seat. 

“What? I’m not wrong!” You laughed, looking him up and down before adding to your sentence. 

“My bad, 5 stars doesn’t cover it. However, 3 Michelin stars does!” 

He opened his mouth, as if to speak, though he remained silent. Blade leaned forward and placed his hands on his face, thinking for a moment. After a few minutes, he just barely moved his hands, enough to see you. He had a mix of emotions visible on his face, the most prominent one being absolute, utter confusion. 

“What? It’s not like I’m lying!” 

He began muttering something to himself, however it was so muffled that you could only make out a few words. 

“Don’t do…- irrational…- Kafka said…- important…” 

“What’re you muttering about?” You asked, curiously, as you walked a bit closer to him. 

“I’m trying my hardest not to get rid of you.” He replied, not even sparing you a glance. Though you most certainly could see just the faintest hint of a blush on his face. 

“Oh come on! You wouldn’t do that~” you retaliated, taking on a more teasing tone now.

“Only because-“ he tried replying, however, you decided to interrupt him mid-sentence.

“Say, do you wanna, like… go out sometime?” 

“Kafka was right…” he sighed “You’re absolutely insane.”

“No! I’m simply telling the truth.” You crossed your arms and leaned your weight on one foot. “That’s great. Yeah no, I’m not going out with you.” 

“Why?” 

“Because I said so.” 

You sighed, once again over-dramatically, and leaned against the nearest wall. 

“Alright, fine… but I’m not giving up any information that could betray the Luofu.” 

“I’m leaving the moment Kafka returns.” He sighed and sat up again, leaning against the back of the chair. He’s probably hoping for Kafka to return soon. 

However, she didn’t return as soon as he hoped. Kafka returned a few hours later, absolutely exhausted so she only came to check on the both of you, whom were sitting in silence. 

“Bladie, I’m going to bed. You stay here a while longer. I’m convinced Silvie won’t be of help to you. She had me buy her like 10 games!” She mumbled and waved, right as blade was about to leave when he saw her. Kafka shut the door behind her, leaving the two of you alone… again. 

“So… about my earlier proposition-”

“No. Shut up.”

[wordstome]

I am having a goddamn nightmare of a time writing the university au (mostly because I have a shit ton of work to do…for my university…lol) so have some headcanons about the most toxic couple you’ve ever met. mdni under the cut

They’re like the definition of a situationship. They’re dating in every aspect except by name

At first she does try to sleep with other guys like she did before König but that doesn’t last long, because nobody else is as good as him. She will never admit this outside of the bedroom

Meanwhile he literally calls her his girlfriend behind her back

She’s emotionally unavailable toxic, he’s obsessive and possessive toxic

König enjoys the pursuit and just thinks it’s normal for women to be difficult like this. I would say “poor König” but he has a bad habit of picking her up and carrying her places against her will so he’s not that poor

She likes to tell herself she has no attachment to him, but she loves the ego boost he gives her by acting like a lovestruck puppy and following her everywhere. She’s also secretly into him being controlling

She does have her moments of genuinely caring about him, though. She brought him lunch once and he looked at her like she hung the moon the whole day. Her excuse was that she just happened to get/make an extra portion, but she did, in fact, get him a portion on purpose

She basically lives with him after a certain point. Her roommates barely see her anymore since she only comes and goes from her old place to get things. He constantly threatens to change the locks on her, but they both know it’s an empty threat. He much prefers to punish her in sexy ways

She'll just be minding her own business talking to a classmate or perhaps flirting with someone when König will come up behind her and put his arms around her. If she was just talking to someone she'll pat his face before attempting to shoo him off. If she was flirting with someone, she wrenches him off her and storms off in a huff (whoever she was talking to has definitely fled from König's evil eye by that point)

They don't really fight, they just have spats because König is endlessly amused by her anger and she is unable to stay mad at him for long. The one time they had a real fight was nasty, and they didn't talk for days afterwards

She's usually quite a chill, go with the flow person (because if she allowed herself too much stress or anxiety at once it would destroy her), but König brings out the spitfire in her

In equal measure, König is a bit of the shy and quiet giant type, but she brings out the brat tamer in him. They alternate balancing each other out

It's kind of easy to look at them and go "why are they still doing this to themselves" but when they get along (i.e. he's behaving himself and she's not pretending not to know him) they're as functional as any other couple

This definitely goes without saying: the nastiest most bed-breaking sex. They fuck like they’re trying to murder each other

I know it's a pet peeve of many people when they say the reader is ooooo so small and delicate next to the cod men, and I tend to agree. However, unless you are also nearly seven feet tall and built like an olympic swimmer, I'm just gonna say you're smaller than König

That being said, he LOVES using his size against her. Picking her up, bending her over things, bending her in half (mating press, his beloved)

If he wants her to stay, she'll stay. He'll have one hand on her throat pinning her down, the other keeping her open to slam into her

This brat will look him dead in the eye and ask "is that all you've got?", which obviously makes him lose his mind in the best way

She definitely has more experience than he does, which actually works out in his favor: him getting better at fucking really just means he's getting better at fucking her

They're so goddamn nasty they've definitely fucked in semi-public places because she teased him to the point of madness and he popped a boner so hard it was painful

Oh, the dirty talk. König is such a gentleman outside of the bedroom, but the degradation that comes out of him while he's fucking her is toe-curling. A lot of "nobody else can fuck you like this" and "all you're good for is taking me in your tight little hole"

He growls??? I don't know if y'all have heard his voicelines in German but he snarls at her when he's trying to teach her a lesson and it turns her into putty

This post is dedicated to @kneelingshadowsalome, who is waiting for this fic so patiently and is my shining beacon of motivation at this point lol

[skyartworkzzz]

Cult of the Goat rambling

Came up with some lore ideas, gonna put it here til Im able to draw it out!

Also mixing up with @lenorblr 's idea of the Old Gods still being around! (bless u again for sharing this with me <3 )

So, as Ive estabilished before, this universe is like a Fell version of COTL to me But how do we make an universe already quite spooky edgier? By alterning the GOOD things that happened in it What if those things did not happen?

Yk how Shamura was the one responsible for showing a world of wisdom to Narinder, until he carried on with it greedily and got punished for it? What if Shamura was the one on board with it but not Narinder? Given that the morals are reversed here, I think Narinder would be the kindest out of all the other Bishops, meaning that hed probably be the one to empathize and be able to recognize recklessness the best Shamura got all the Bishops on their side, but once Narinder expressed disdain for where their plans were going, they all sealed him away into his own domain

Since the Old Gods would still be around, the Bishops would be at constant war with them while trying to maintain their power over their own Lands (I like to think that since these are Gods we are talking about, itd be a bigass territorial and devotional conflict) So naturally, the world got much gloomier and dangerous than usual, the monsters became more terrifying and the biomes grew more traitorous, it is incredibly hard to survive in this world if u are not within the Bishops' domain/kingdom walls. Anyone outside of it cannot be trusted

NOW WHERE DOES THE GOAT COME IN THIS: Instead of being sacrificed in order to appease Narinder, the goats are sacrificed in order to empower the Bishops, which have been looking for ways to become stronger to face the Gods, so naturally these species quickly came to extinction until The Goat was the only one left

When they were executed, just as originally, their soul was transported to Narinders domain, and there they became his vessel

ALAS and however, instead of intending to free himself for the sake of power, Narinder wishes to be free in order to stop his siblings since he is the only one who can. So in order to do that, he makes the Goat his vessel and asks for a cult to be started in his name; the more devotion, the more powerful he grows, until inevitably the Goat has to lay down their own life

Now les say u could choose whether ud want to or not: If you lay down your life, the Goat is murdered and Narinder is fred, therefore implying he escapes his prison and went on to battle against his siblings As an extra, if this were to be game-esque, I imagine a post or pre-credits scene where the Goat can be seen walking into the afterlife with all the others of their kind welcoming them in

If you don’t lay down your life, the Goat offers themselves to become Narinder’s literal vessel. They would go back to the world of the living while possessed by Narinders aura, and thats how theyd beat the Bishops all at once

Once the battle is over, Narinder projects himself out as their shadow and expresses how reckless but brave they were, also pointing out that he is rather impressed by how resistent of a vessel they ended up being Narinder then warns about now being trapped inside of the Goats body and that they have consequently made themselves the new God of Death, given that they now possess Narinders powers. The Goat accepts such fate and is allowed to continue as a cult leader

So in the end, we have a Gods Vessel with their divine living inside their mind and body, both holding custody of the Crowns power like a single person And still having to face the Old Gods but thats for later brainstormi-

Eventually I think if there were to be a Mystic Seller, they would be responsible for freeing Narinder from the Goats body and giving him a mortal carcass. Before it was done tho, the MS wouldve likely warned both about their powers: Narinder would have to be reborn as a mortal in order to be his own person again, since the Crown cannot sit upon 2 brows, unless the Goat would be willing to sacrifice themselves which- hm. I think if this was once again in a game-style - before the options would show up to us - Narinder would interrupt to say he agrees with his condition Honestly I think he would be pretty chill with that LMAO just like “welp Ive done my part already, now its time to retire”, or be like “you wear the Crown well, u should keep it” @ the Goat, so he is revived and made into a follower with no personal problems

IK SOME OF THESE THINGS STILL DONT MATCH Ill likely play around with these ideas and doodle it out to test waters, BUT YEAH thats my interpretations thus far x’D

Hope yall like it! Thank chu for reading <3

[sleepingdeath-light]

yandere hcs + overworked s/o ; poly millie & moxxie

requested by ; arcade anon (16/07/23)

fandom(s) ; helluva boss

fandom masterlist(s) ; here

character(s) ; millie & moxxie

outline ; “YANDERE ASKS ROUND THREE!‼️‼️

Can I ask for Yandere Millie and Moxxie team up/poly with a Stubborn, Overworked reader? Like, the job has been really ragging on em lately, and it shows, but they REFUSE to let up/take a break because "None of these fuckin nimwits know how to do the job right!" ?

-Arcade Anon”

note ; this was actually quite good fun to write as i’ve never gotten the chance to write for these two love birds before — but in that same vein, i hope this isn’t too ooc and is an enjoyable read ^^

warning(s) ; yandere!millie, yandere!moxxie, possessive and protective behaviour, referenced forcible restrainment, references to canon-typical levels of violence

despite their hectic work schedule at i.m.p, millie and moxxie are both quick to pick up on how much you’ve been run ragged by your job — but, being more than familiar with how stubborn you can be, the two resolve to give you some time to sort things out by yourself

though not without making it clear that they’re more than happy to step in on your behalf and will do so if things get bad enough — whether you want them to or not

you can dig your heels in and argue with them as much as you want, but you’re never going to convince them to drop the issue of your work schedule — nor are you ever going to be able to convince them to not use their… professional skills to take care of issues on your behalf

(they’ve killed people for just looking at you in a way that could be interpreted as disrespectful to you and your relationship… so needless to say, they’re a very protective duo)

between themselves, usually whilst dealing with marks for work, they toss around several ideas about how to make you take care of yourself — moxxie is initially much more focused on taking the pacifist of route and just arranging a meeting with your job or sitting you down and explaining their concerns as best they can, whilst millie is plotting all sorts of violent acts that span from torturing your boss into lessening your work load (if not outright killing some of your colleagues to send a message) to tying you up and forcing you to stay at home so you can finally take a fucking break

eventually, with some shockingly sound advice from blitzø (there’s a first time for everything), they settle on something in between the two extremes

(love is all about compromise, after all! just not with you this time)

one day you get home from work and your partners are sat in the living room with matching sober expressions on their face — millie is the one to greet you first, as usual, with a cuddle and a kiss as she asks you about your day, guiding you to sit on the settee whilst moxxie quickly goes and retrieves all of the materials he’d been preparing throughout the day (blitzø had rather generously given him the day off to do so — and as thankful as he is, he still dreads what he’ll be asked to do to make up for it)

they sit you down and talk through their concerns with graphs tracking your work hours and sleep schedule that mox had spent weeks making: millie’s alternating between reassurances that they both understand where you’re coming from, backing up moxxie’s statements with her typical wrath-ring charm, and lovingly telling you to shut up and listen whilst being as physically affectionate as ever, whilst moxxie is walking you through the data and (still polite as always) explaining just how necessary it is for you to take some time off

they refute every argument you have and force you (literally, millie is startlingly strong for her size and refuses to take her hands off of you until she’s sure you’re not going to bolt off) to stay and listen to reason

and they make it as clear as day that they’re not above keeping you at home by force if that’s what it takes to get you to prioritise your well-being

and, once they’ve finished with you and are absolutely certain that you intend to listen to their advice, they go and seek out your boss under the cover of night in order to sort out the problem at the source

if millie had her way they’d have just killed your boss outright and used their death as a clear-cut example about what happens to anyone who fucks with their partner

but, thankfully, she listened to moxxie’s pleas and they instead started out diplomatically (except for the whole breaking into their home and tying them up so they can’t escape thing): clearly stating their concerns, stating alternative solutions (like offering more thorough training so you don’t feel like the only competent person in a workplace full of ‘fuckin nimwits’), and making it clear that they will come back and finish the job if they don’t sort their shit out going forwards

(millie still gets her fill of violence by taking out a few armed bodyguards and wounding your boss badly — but not fatally — when they try to weasel out of giving you some time off like they demanded, so don’t worry about that)

… needless to say, you didn’t get overworked at all after that and were instead free to spend even more time showering your (at times concerningly) adoring partners with love and being smothered by their affection in return

[storybookprincess]

@ladycrescentvenus & i collabed on a super cute killugon skatepark au drabble for the @greedislandchallenge & you want to read it sooooooooo bad:

If there is one thing that can ruin Killua’s otherwise perfect day at the skatepark, it’s a reckless newbie.

Killua knows the type. They walk in with an overconfident swagger, throw down their pristine, newly purchased board, and proceed to eat shit. Over and over. Again and again. Until they finally decide to preserve what little dignity and uninjured skin they have and slink back home.

Killua wouldn’t necessarily mind watching someone’s self-inflicted humiliation, especially when he could make a point of sailing by and executing a flawless kickflip after a particularly nasty fall.

But dumbass newbies at the skatepark had a way of making their incompetence everyone else’s problem. They caused nearly as many other skaters to wipe out as they fell themselves. With no control over their speed, and less over their direction, they’d cause crash after crash, seemingly oblivious to the wreckage in their wake. It was maddening.

Today’s newbie, however, is different.

On one hand, he’s keeping to himself, remaining in the far corner of the park as he tries and fails to learn how to properly drop in. He’s not causing any other skaters to crash, and normally, Killua would consider that a good thing.

Except that what this guy is lacking in injury to others, he more than compensates for with his own face.

His nose is bloody, one eye blackening, and Killua swears he can see a tooth coming loose. That’s without even mentioning his elbows, palms, and knees, all shredded to ribbons. It’s like he’s made it his personal mission to spill as much blood on the bowl as possible.

Normally, Killua wouldn’t mind watching a new skater make a total ass of himself.

But normally, a new skater would know when to quit.

“Hey!” Killua shouts, skating up the side of the bowl to join the newbie. “Do you have a death wish or something?”

Up close, the guy’s injuries look even worse. There’s dirt and gravel ground into his skinned knees, and the blood from his nose streaks all the way down his throat.

“Huh?” the newbie asks.

Killua stares in stunned silence.

“Come on, you can’t possibly be misunderstanding me. I’ve watched you go fifteen rounds with the pavement and lose every one.”

“Oh, this?” The newbie gestures vaguely to his face and body. “It’s fine, really! Doesn’t hurt at all.”

His wide, earnest grin is sullied by the blood still trickling from his nose.

There’s a million things that Killua could say in response, but this guy’s recklessness has him utterly bewildered. No, maybe that’s not quite the right word for this situation, but how else could he possibly describe this newbie? Flailing about as he pieces together the right moves, so determined not to bother anyone that he’ll just repeatedly injure himself instead as he tries to teach himself. Killua’s mind supplies him with images of this guy beaten into a pulp like overripe fruit, limping home once the light’s gone.

Killua's mouth opens and he hears himself say with utter resignation, “You suck at this. Let me teach you how to skateboard.” It doesn’t come as a surprise that his mouth is lightyears ahead of his brain, his subconscious mind already decided on a course of action.

Because what other alternative was there? There’s something about this guy—something soft and puppyish in those bright brown eyes—that’s pulling Killua in. Some indefinable something saying that this newbie is worth his time.

“Really? You will?” The newbie’s smile is dazzling, his eyes sparkling with enthusiasm. “Thank you! Thank you so much!”

Killua isn’t used to being shown so much enthusiasm for something so commonplace, and the back of his neck prickles in faint embarrassment. “It’s no big deal,” he grumbles. “Just…figured I’d step in before you needed a blood transfusion or something.”

The newbie blinks, midway through wiping away the blood dripping down over his lip. “Oh…I…yeah, I see what you mean,” he admits with a sheepish grin. “Really, though, I do appreciate the help. Nobody I know is into skateboarding, and I’d feel pretty bad about bothering the other skaters here to ask for help. I figured I’d just try out some moves I saw on Youtube, but uh…well, you see how well that was going.” He laughs merrily, as though the wounds covering his body at this point are some sort of unremarkable little accidents to just brush off.

Shaking his head, Killua sighs. “Yeah, I did. I’m amazed you lasted as long as you did. Most people would have thrown in the towel at this point.” Or at least asked for help. Although that was never an issue Killua had to handle, since his oldest brother had been the one who inspired and then later taught him how to skate. Illumi had been a harsh teacher, sure, but he was a competent one, so Killua’s learning process had looked nothing like this guy’s. Maybe with a good teacher, this guy would be halfway decent. He already had the grit and determination for it, and that was half the battle.

Although also his offer to teach isn’t just a charitable act. Since none of Killua’s other siblings had ever shown interest, Killua had just engaged in skateboarding as a solitary activity (especially once Illumi discovered boys and had no more time to hang around his little brother). It might actually be fun to have someone to skate with. Maybe if this newbie got good enough, he’d be a test for Killua’s skills. Yeah, that didn’t sound halfway bad, now that he really thought about it.

Killua sticks out his hand. “The name’s Killua. I’m pretty good at this, so stick around and I promise I’ll teach you some cool moves. Or at least how not to smear yourself on the pavement.”

The newbie’s eyes are bright with interest, even as the bruises deepen around them. He catches Killua’s hand and shakes it, his grasp warm and firm enough to make Killua wince. “I’m Gon. Sounds good; I’m looking forward to it.”

“Right.” Killua takes his hand back before beckoning Gon to move back. “Okay then, lesson one.” He flashes a confident grin as he readies to skate down into the bowl. “Just keep your eyes on me.”

[poppy-metal]

i have THOTS about Jordan and i feel like you would understand them the best so:

GOOD LORD imagine giving them head like properly putting in the effort and the time to give them the best head ever, and they keep stopping themselves from cumming every time they are close because this feels too fucking good so they are basically using your mouth to edge themselves, and at some point the pleasure is just so so much that- they shift form without realizing- and they stare down at you like oh shit i'm sorry but their eyes roll back when you don't bat an eye and just go back to it like nothing changed and the pleasure is too good that they just let it go and come in your mouth because you have been such a good girl letting them use you like that😩

alternatively it would also be kind of funny that you have to hold back a little laugh because depending on the situation your mouth gets suddenly really empty, your face kind of falls forward and your tongue is swirling around nothing?? you were sure there was something there before wtf? that- or you get suddenly and quite unexpectedly chocked and deep-throated by a big cock and okay let's be honest maybe you need a second to catch your breath as Jordan is spewing apologies above you

i will cry because they praise you so much when you eat them out, their good girl, letting them use you hhhh. letting them rub their pussy over your tongue and whining into them. they have a hand cupped around your neck, half to hold you in place, half so they can rub their fingers into your nape soothingly. feels so good to make them feel good and you look so pretty with your lips all puffy and abused and when you wrap your lips around their clit, their knees tremble and they get overwhelmed and the sight of you pulling that tight bud into your mouth, eyes hazy like you're in your own little world, pleased as punch to be serving them, it makes them want to fill your mouth up even more and that's when it happens - the shift.

suddenly your mouth is stretched and full and you pull back in shock, and jordans so apologetic, because they'd kinda done it without really thinking about it, sitting up to cup your face like they might have hurt you. you just smile because it was a suprise but not an unpleasant one, "you want my mouth still? on your cock?" and they shudder, you're so sweet, the sweetest girl really, always willing to please and they kinda wanna mess you up about it. just a little.

"yeah," they murmur, thumb stroking your lower lip, running over your tongue when it peeks out to give their thumb a lick, "wanna see you with your mouth full. you look so fucking good, baby."

your cunt throbs and you're more than happy to oblige, mouth dropping to sink over the cock you love to worship so much, filling you so full already. you moan around the thick intrusion, and jordan groans so deep it sends another jolt right to your clit, not helped by how they reach down to flutter their hand around your throat, ringed fingers feathering over the skin there, and you realize they're feeling where their cock fills you there when they press deep.

"shit." they grunt, spreading their thighs wider so they have a better view of you, both hands now coming up to cradle your head as they pump down your throat. face flushed and eyes dark and wild, "gonna cum -"

you take it all, of course. swallowing around their cock as they spill, drinking it all down. you barely have time to let them slip out before they've shifted again, and soft hands are pulling you up, feminine soft lips devouring your mouth. "god, you're so fucking hot - how are you so hot? jesus." yanking you under them till their necklace is glancing off your nose, then dangling above you as they grin down. "that princess cunt s'probably crying, huh? can't have that."

[gicosmo]

Damn Those Marstons

Jack Marston x Fem!Reader.

Hey, RDR fans! I got into RDR2 a few months back and I literally binge watched play throughs of RDR1. This angsty idea for Jack popped up(because he can never be happy😔) and I just had to write it!

Synopsis: You’ve been with Jack for a few months now. When he asks you to meet his family, you would’ve never thought you would be meeting one of the two outlaws who killed your father.

Warnings: Takes place during RDR1(1914)(Jack is nineteen), alternate universe where the Marston family lives a bit longer lol, John uses his fake name ‘Jim Milton’, a little bit of arguing, just really sad angst.

“Can I tell you both somethin’?” Jack piped up at the dinner table, placing his spoon down into his bowl. Abigail and John immediately looked up at him, confusion written on both of their faces. It was pretty unusual for Jack to get all serious at random. Abigail nodded, “Of course. You can tell us anything, Jack.” She reached over, giving a gentle reassuring pat on his shoulder.

John remained quiet, observing his son. If anything, he was quite on edge, not wanting any bad news. Jack took a deep breath before a smile appeared on his face, “I’ve been seeing this lady. God— Ma, you’ll love her! She’s the sweetest, most loving lady you’ll meet.” Jack’s eyes sparkled as he went on a rant about his girlfriend. Abigail and John were shocked in the moment, but then proceeded to smile. They would be lying to themselves if they said they weren’t happy that Jack had finally found someone.

John chuckled as he looked at Abigail, “Looks like our boy is head over heels! When can we meet her, son?” Jack paused, thinking for a moment.

“How about tomorrow?” Jack answered, looking over at his mother, “If that’s okay with you, ma.”

Abigail laughed, nodding her head, “Of course it’s okay with me! I’ll cook a nice dinner for the four of us! I can’t wait to meet her.”

Jack was ecstatic! He was in his bed, looking up at the ceiling being unable to fall asleep. He couldn’t wait for you to meet his family. His mind was racing until he eventually tired himself out.

In the morning Jack was already at your front door. You opened it with a bright smile on your face, “Well I wasn’t expecting you today. Why do you have the dumb smile on your face? What are you planning?” You walked up to him, Jack leaning down to plant a sweet kiss on your forehead.

“I ain’t planning nothin’! Just… Will you come have dinner with my parents? Today?” Jack blurted out. It was evident he was pretty excited about this. You were taken aback by this. Dinner? With his parents?

You giggled sheepishly, “Geez, Jack. I wish you told me this sooner. I don’t think I got any nice clothes to give a good first impression…” Jack shook his head, grabbing your hands into his, “No need for fancy clothes no nothing. My parents don’t care about your wealth. They care about who you are.”

His words melted your heart. Jack bent down, pulling you in for a soft tender kiss. You always loved how gentle he was with you. Once he pulled away, you stepped back into your home, “Let me tell my mother i’ll be gone for a while. Mind waiting out here while I get ready?”

“Anything for you, darlin’.”

-)-)-)-)-)-)-)-)-)-)-)-)-)-)-)-)-)-)-)-)-)-)-)-)-)-)-)-)-)-

After getting ready, Jack helped you onto his horse and rode back to his home. The horse ride wasn’t silent what so ever as Jack couldn’t help but tell you how excited he was. All you could do was smile. It was nice seeing your lover get so excited about something.

Once you both arrive at Beechers Hope, he helped you off of the horse. He held your hand as you both walked up the step of his home. Abigail opened the door with a smile, “Why, hello! You must be the little lady Jack has been talking on and on about!” She walked up to you, giving you a friendly hug.

“Cmon now Ma— Don’t embarrass me like that…” Jack muttered, scratching his head and turning away out of embarrassment. Abigail rolled her eyes, “There’s nothing embarrassing about loving a lady! Now come on in! Dinner is almost ready!” She led you both inside the house, the scent of a good meal in the air.

“Where’s Pa?” Jack questioned, pulling a chair out for you to sit in. Abigail sighed and shrugged, “Joh— I mean, Jim went out a while ago. He said he’ll be back. He most definitely doesn’t want to miss out on this.” She reassured Jack.

Abigail sat down at the table with the both of you. She seemed like a lovely young woman. Sweet yet had a fierce aura to her. She questioned you about your home life, how you met Jack, all the basic questions a parent would ask their child’s lover.

You were honest with her. You told her how it was just you and your mother since your father was killed by some bad people when you were a kid. You spoke about how you only had some insight of two of the men who took your father’s life, hoping you wouldn’t run into them again. You spoke about how you met Jack while shopping for books, how the love for literature brought you both together.

Talking with Abigail felt so natural, both of you didn’t seem to notice someone enter the home. Jack smiled, “Took you long enough, sir.” You turned your head and immediately froze. All you could do was stare at the man with scars on his face.

“Took you long enough, Jim!” Abigail got up, gently slapping her husband’s arm. The man looked at you and smiled, “You must be the lovely lady Jack can’t shut up about! Nice to meet ya! I’m Jim. Jim Milton! You’ve already met Abigail…” You couldn’t hear his words anymore. Everything your boyfriend has told you was a lie.

There was no one named Jim Milton in this home. There wasn’t a Milton at all. The man in front of you was none other than John Marston. Jack wasn’t a Milton either. He was a Marston. They all were.

Your vision became blurry, your ears were ringing so loud. You couldn’t think straight. What could you do? What can you do?

You needed to leave.

“Hun? You okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost…” You snapped back into reality as Jack held your hands gently, looking at you with concern. You gently pushed him away, shaking your head.

“I need to leave. Excuse me.” You pushed Jack out of the way, but he immediately grabbed your wrist. “Hey hey, what’s wrong? Did we do something? Did I do something?” Jack questioned, obviously really confused and concerned.

That’s when you just snapped. You couldn’t take the pain anymore.

“As a matter of fact you did do something. Marston.” You spat at him, Jack instantly taken aback by your outburst. Abigail gasped, her hands cupping over her mouth. John froze, if anything he was terrified at the fact that you knew who they were.

“Is this what people like you do, Marston!? You kill people who had families to go back to while you’re here living a great life with your family!?” You yelled at John. Jack glanced at his father, confused and utterly shocked.

Tears fell from your face as you shook your head, “You took my father from me. I was just a kid… How come you can live your best life, seeing your child grow up… But my father can’t?” You looked at all three of them before looking at Jack,

“I can’t be with the son of an outlaw. Especially to the outlaw that took my father’s life,” You looked back at John and Abigail, “If you’re worried about me telling others about where you live, don’t. I get nothing out of revenge. Just know that your actions will catch up to you. You can never leave your old life to live a new. It happened to my father, it will happen to you.”

You walked towards the front door, “I hope you all enjoy your lives. Goodbye.” With that, you left the home. You heard the front door swing up, footsteps rushing towards you. Turning around, it was Jack.

“Darlin’! Please, don’t leave. Look, I’m sorry. I’m really sorry. I know my Pa has done some horrible things— But I swear he’s a changed man!” Jack pulled you into an embrace, “You’re the best thing that has happened to me in so long. I— I love you…”

Jack’s words were sincere. They really were. But you couldn’t shake the disgusting feeling off of you. You gently pushed him off from you,

“Jack. I love you— Well… I loved you too. But I know my father would be rolling in his grave knowing I was dating the son of the man who killed him.”

Jack’s heart sunk. He couldn’t do anything but watch you walk away. What can he even say? It wasn’t long until John came out to check up on his son.

John reached down to place a hand on Jack’s shoulder, immediately getting rejected by him. Jack glared at his father, “Damnit old man, You’ve made my life a living hell. I can forgive you for so many other things you’ve done. But this? I don’t know if I can.”

Jack bumped his father’s shoulder as he walked back into the house. Abigail tried to comfort him, but he immediately shut that down. John and Abigail had a lot to talk about.

It took you a long while to get back home. Your mother greeted you with a loving smile, but all you could do was cry in her arms. She didn’t question nor judge you, she did what a mother does best and held you. Telling you it was going to be okay.

Damn those Marstons.

Damn that sweet loving boy you fell in love with.

And damn your heart for still loving him.