#ww2 fanfiction

[evashearta]

revelations

eva sat alone on the windowsill of her munich villa. 

surrounded by finely furnished, almost sweet, candy like decorative furniture and paintings, she herself felt like a mere adornment, a doll to lie seductively, sweetly on the cushions, waiting for another secret night with her lover. 

she felt an odd disgust to her existence which turned her on as much as it stepped on her, both on her heart, her nerves, her patience.

what was her duty in this world?

to the women of the nazi party, it was work, religion, community, kitchen, children. 

she did not even have the status of a proper woman. 

she was eternally hitler’s girl, imprisoned. 

when she was not even a woman, but a mere girl... why wouldn't she have a bit of fun?...

herta. herta never whines on her lap. herta never goes on and on about the war. herta never monologues. herta never...

herta never hurt her the way he did

she never made her feel as though her life was being taken from her heart, crushed to pieces and confined to a couch and a sachet of money, a secret in plain sight. 

what duty did she have, neither child nor woman? none. neither school, community nor work bound a caged bird. 

fuck it, she said, at least in her head so. 

the loneliness will never end, and sleeping pills to keep me in my dreams as blutrote rosen plays on the gramophone, there are only so few, fewer each night and morning come to early. 

her lover is her abuser, no matter how much he gives her

she knows he is the death of her. 

a sudden thought struck her.

his niece. 

where is she? 

there has been no word of the frilly youth, the little bird of singing voice

no word nor sound has come from her

only the newspapers, only the newspapers. perhaps, she might read one. 

“geli raubal; suicide or murder?” monstrous revelations on hitler’s twisted psyche”

so she wasn't the only one. 

revelations one upon the other pile on her

overwhelming her

but it was a burden that freed her, revealed unto her

it was the freedom of knowing, but a hard weight to bear. 

eva was no longer to be kept the virgin dictator's dirty secret, nor suicidal teen scandal. 

her hand reached to that gift of the modern age, the telephone. so many lonely nights, so many tears of impatience left their salty, bittersweet mark on the numbers she turned.

herta. 

she needed herta. 

all her body, all her being, all her soul and nerve in her body craved herta like nothing else, she was her anima, her life, her spirit. her touch, her breath, her heartbeat. all she wanted was herta, and nothing else in the world. from earliest days of youth, she and her friend were inseparable, true siblings, family... 

time goes by so slowly, but eva was going to push through the fog, the sloginess of time, the sap that entrapped her like an insect in history, a dead decoration suspended in movement, life.

phone rang. impatient, hungry, no; deathly starving for the line to be answered, for the line not to lie flat. eva truly felt, her life was put to the line of a telephone cable. herta. 

#mod choccy #eva braun #reichblr fanfiction #eva braun fanfiction #ww2 fanfiction

[starofthesea7]

König~ it means ‘darling’

(König fingers you in the kitchen.)

Baby hairs stuck to the sweat of the back of your neck as you padded down the stairs to the communal kitchenette on floor 3. A heatwave had swept through the desert valley, expanse of sand still warm from the blazing sun, long since set. You’d woken up with a parched throat, in search of a glass of water.

As you neared the kitchen, flickering phosphorescence of the 80’s refrigerator down the hallway revealed another sleepless soldier must be awake. You peered inside, with half a mind to turn around, depending on who you might discover; you were now painfully aware of your thin cotton tank top and threadbare sleep shorts that must be at least a decade old, and how a soldier may mistakenly perceive your attire as some sort of colourful welcome sign.

Your gaze fell upon König inspecting the contents of the fridge, and you immediately felt your muscles relax, knowing he would blush at a mere glimpse of your clothed chest, let alone bother you for it. It was known that the colossal man was always snacking, as the energy needed to sustain such a large body, as well as its profuse activity, was immense. Now he was basking in the cool air of the refrigerator, bent over to peer in, his arm draped over the door. The fluorescent glow illuminated the contours of his bare chest abdomen, and you found your eyes lingering.

You’d never seen him shirtless before, and fuck, he was attractive. A greek marble statue carved by an expert hand. Lean rippling muscle, a pale, broad expanse of solid back, formed naturally by constant use and necessity. A well oiled machine, complete with a sheen of sweat glazing his heated skin. Your gaze trailed down, to a thick waist, soft indents of relaxed abs, and muscled hips which disappeared below the waistband of his pyjama pants.

You’d had a crush on the Austrian soldier for a while now, but fate had never placed the two of you in a room together, or close enough for you to make true conversation with the introvert. He was friendly enough, but you’d never gotten past simple gentile greeting. His soft presence, however, always brought comfort with it. So large, yet unimposing, as if nothing could harm you with him there.

You breathed in, and took a step forward. Bare feet sticking to cool linoleum. He turned at the movement eyes darting, then relaxing when he saw you smiling at him. You now realized he wasn’t wearing his mask. Somehow, it felt natural, here, under the cover of night. The lightsource behind him left much to your imagination as he turned toward you, however you were bathed in light. He could see your face, flushed with heat, cheeks shining with perspiration.

“König,” Your voice was soft as you greeted him, “Couldn’t sleep either?”

He shook his head, his voice was deep and raspy with fatigue, and it nudged a quickened heart beat in your chest. “‘S too hot.”

“I know. That fridge feels nice.” You brushed passed him, barely grazing his hip with yours, it left a fuzzy tingle in it’s wake. He seemed decidedly too large for the tiny kitchen, like a lion in a cage. Unnatural.

You turned, filling a glass with water, and found yourself wondering if he was watching you, studying the curves of your body the way you just had his. Perhaps he was noticing the way your shorts were a size or two too small, riding up the split of your ass. Perhaps he felt this pull towards you, as you did towards him. Pole to pole. You glanced over your shoulder to see him fully engrossed in comparing the nutrient facts of two different fruit cups. You felt yourself flush, and downed your glass of water, cool water soothing your heated body. Slightly.

You filled it again, before turning to him, taking a another sip from your cup. “Water?”

He turned slightly, looking down at you, “Sure, thank you.”

Before you could think twice, you were handing him your own glass. His eyes flickered from the glass, down to you, and back to the glass. Before you could reiterate, correct yourself, grab him a new, clean one from the cupboard, he took it, a large pale hand swallowing it whole. It was littered with a collection of veins and small scars. You couldn’t help but imagine how it might look compared to your own. Holding yours. Perhaps on your thigh. Your windpipe…

As he raised it to his lips, his eyes held yours vehemently, the sight of his lips where yours had been moments ago made your head cloud slightly. You gazed up at him, ardent through your lashes, studying what you could see of his face.

Although bare before you, in face and body, his true form still escaped you. An enigma. You could make out broad, muscled shoulders, a pale, broad column of neck with a white, healed scar gracing one side. You wanted to graze it with your teeth. A glint of canines and a jaw, sharp, with a whisper of stubble. His nose was large and slightly crooked, in endearing way, as if it had been broken when he was a child. Flicker of an eye, green, which you knew all too well, as they were usually your only point of reference for his expression. His hair was light, tousled from bed, and looked in need of a trim, shorter pieces curling across his forehead and around his neck, damp with sweat. He was younger than you’d imagined. And, admittedly, more attractive.

He leaned into you, and your pulse quickened, before realizing he was only placing the glass on the counter beside you. “Danke.” You nodded up at him, words escaping you in the moment, his close proximity having an embarrassing effect on you. He was hard to read; you supposed that was part of his job. His true motives indecipherable, though laced throughout his subtle movements. Did he want to reach out? Touch you?

You were pulled from your thoughts, “Would you, uh, would you like a fruit cup?” His voice was hesitant, you could tell he felt as though he should offer you something in exchange for the drink. It was cute.

You smiled at him, and pulled yourself up onto the counter, feeling it cold against your skin. A reminder you weren’t wearing anything under your threadbare shorts. “Sure. Mango please.”

As he moved, chilled air swept across your body, goosebumps rose and you saw his eyes flick to your chest, the movement undetectable had you not been studying him. Your heartbeat quickened—your nipples must have been poking through your thin tank. He tore his eyes away quickly.

He cleared his throat and turned back to the fridge, as it illuminated his face you noticed a large scar running from his cheekbone down to his jaw, as well as a split lip. How strange, only hours ago he had been on the field. Ferocious. Violent. Yet here he was, presenting you with a fruit cup. He selected the one labeled mango, and you realized it was the one he had set aside to have himself, and the last mango. You watched as he attempted to open it for you, collossal fingers struggling to grasp the small tab.

You held back a grin. “Here, I can do it.” You opened it easily. Not wanting to dirty a spoon, you began to eat it with your fingers. You felt his eyes on you as you slipped the fruit into your mouth.

Now he was struggling to open his own, bent over to focus. You chuckled, “Let me help. ‘S difficult with your big hands, huh.”

Hair fell across his forehead as he raised his head to look at you, cheeks flushing at your remark, and it dawned on you that perhaps he was insecure about his size. The thought was almost funny to you —If only you could tell him it was one of his best qualities. Hell, it made you want him. Badly.

“Yeah, danke, liebling.” You opened it with no trouble, before handing it back to him. He stood in front of you, a foot of space between your thighs and his, thick with tension. You wanted him closer, the space feeling like both a mile and a hair’s width. Both of you were illuminated softly in the darkness, quietly eating packaged tropical fruit.

Your voice surprised you, breaking the comfortable silence, “What does that mean?”

“Hm?” The deep sound made your throat dry.

“Liebling.” You cringed at your poor imitation.

“Oh, uh..” he was blushing, avoiding eye contact. Your pulse quickened slightly with anticipation. What had he called you? His voice quieted with embarrassment, “It means ‘darling’.”

Your heart swelled at his words. Darling. König had called you darling. You leaned back against the cabinet, shoulder blades pressing into plywood, legs parting slightly. You saw his eyes waver from his snack to your thighs. Splayed out before him. Tilting your head up at him, your lips stretched into a smile and you blurted, “You’re cute.”

He flushed at your words, eyebrows raised slightly. “Really? No one calls me that.” His fingers toyed with the plastic in his hands.

You finished your fruit, and licked your fingers clean, eyes on his. “I think you’re very cute.” His vehement eye contact as you sucked your finger made you dizzy. It felt intimate, even a little dirty- cliche. A low budget porno.

Something urged you to keep going. Push further. Whether it was the heat, the late hour or clenching of your cunt you couldn’t be sure, but you wanted more. You wanted to touch him. “Can I try?” You nodded towards the last piece of fruit in his fingers. Your pulse hammered. He looked at his hand, and back at you, as you dared him to give it to you, feed it to you. Your palms were glued to the counter, making no move to do it yourself.

He swallowed hoarsely. You suddenly realized he was shy. Although he was an intimidating presence -colossal in comparison- you made him nervous. Your muscles tensed in anticipation, your jaw opened for him. “Yeah,” His voice was soft and raspy. He leaned forward, lips parted slightly, mirroring yours. Your abdomen tightened as he grabbed the counter in between your legs, as if to stabilize himself, still not courageous enough to grab you. You gazed up at him, wanton through damp lashes as his fingers entered your mouth, so gently. Afraid to be too rough, afraid to hurt you. Used to being a bull in a china shop-but you could take him. God you could take him.

His lids were heavy, pupils blown as he stared at your lips. You felt his breath hitch as your lips wrapped around his fingers, sucking gently. Sweet, rough, calloused. Hot and large. You felt high with fervour, something in you wanted to take him deeper, show him you could do it. But you held back, pulling away with a quiet pop. Lips wet with juice and spit.

He raised his fingers, brushing a lock of hair from your cheek gentle with veneration, before they found the back of your head, skimming, then intertwining, tugging. Need overtook his timid respect. Your scalp prickled as he gripped the back of your head pulling you towards him. Into him. Your lips parted as you looked up at his face, back arching as he tugged you into him, searing cunt pressing molten against the cold plastic countertop. He was looking down at you with furrowed brows, need etched into every feature. Hot breath fanned your cheeks.

“Bitte.” Please. “Don’t tease me.” A fervent murmur that made your stomach flop. He pulled you into him, dwarfing you, lips searing against yours, his mouth opening immediately, inviting you in, pleading for more. More of you. He tasted of peaches and blood as his lip re-split with his mindless movements. Sweet ambrosia collocating with metallic copper. Oxymoron of gentle and harsh. Sweet and bitter.

He was scorching in your arms, musk and sweat. Deep and heady. Months of built up need unwinding, finally. Hot lust satiated, slightly. His grip was white knuckled on the counter between your plush thighs. It’s proximity taunting you, reminding you how badly you needed him there. How your fingers hadn’t been enough for the past months, how you were too small. But he could do it. God he could. He could fill you up- stretch you out. You couldn’t help gripping his wrist, inching your way towards him, squirming, letting out a warbled whimper as your wet cunt dragged against the counter. He groaned into your open mouth, fingertips tightening in your hair when he found your puffy cunt bare for him, clenching, wet and waiting for him.

You jolted as rough fingers brushed your clit, letting out a quiet, pathetic whine. “Quiet, leibling.” His calloused thumbs rubbed circles around the sensitive spot, making you squirm. He groaned as his fingers glided slowly down your sopping slit. His head swam- all for him? This was all for him? He could hardly wrap his mind around the thought. He’d touched himself at night, shamefully, thinking about you-about this puffy little cunt just a few doors down. And here you were, spread and ready for him, wanting to take him. His cock flushed beneath his waistband, heavy and hot. Needy.

You cried out softly as he split you open on his finger, and he pulled you into his shoulder, your mouth agape at the feeling of being stuffed with him. His middle finger twice the size of your own, you squirmed as he sank, knuckle deep. He pushed another inside of you, and you spasmed around him, overwhelmed at the euphoric feeling of being stretched so easily. Gummy walls pulled him in deeper. Sweat prickled his forehead as he held back his need to feel you squeezing his pulsing cock, the want to spread you open, fill you up- see how far you could go. See if you really could take all he wanted to give. You let out an airy moan as he hit that spongey spot inside of you with his middle finger, thighs glued together in over stimulation, spine arching-

Suddenly, to your dismay, he pulled out, quickly stepping away from you. You blindly reached out for him as cold air hit you. Reeling with emptiness. Had you done something wrong? Then you heard it, a creak of stairs. Heavy footsteps.

He reached out and you jolted as he brushed your clit, tugging your threadbare shorts back over your gaping cunt. He leaned back against the counter, face composed as ever.

A figure emerged from the hallway. It was the Lieutenant. He was squinting in the darkness to make out your figures. Voice was rough against the silence, save for the buzzing refrigerator, “Ah, grabbing a snack too?” You could do nothing but stare at König, unable to believe he had been knuckle deep inside you just moments before.

König nodded, face relaxed, lids heavy. He raised his hand and your sopping cunt clenched as you saw him place his fingers to his mouth, to taste you. As the Lieutenant watched. Vulgar. Lecherous. Your spit, slick, and peach juice swirling together in his hot mouth.

You flushed down to your fucking thighs at his words: “Yes sir, just having a peach.”

#cod #könig #konig fanfiction #konig imagine #konig cod #konig call of duty #konig headcanons #könig mw2 #könig imagine #könig smut #könig x y/n #könig cod #konig modern warfare #konig x reader #könig call of duty #könig x reader #cod mw2 #cod ww2 #konig #könig modern warfare #könig x you #könig fluff #konig smut #konig x y/n #konig mw2 #mw2 #cod imagine #cod smut #smut #konig fluff

[mamirhodessxox]

Request for Cody 💜

Cody is on the road a lot and a workaholic, to the point he neglects his wife in a way. He misses date nights, family dinners and a birthday party to the point reader files for divorce. Cody then tries to get his family back. ( 3 year old son Silas , 9 month old daughter Brielle )

Before You Leave Me

Cody Rhodes x Fem!Reader

Desc: Cody has seemed to be more focused in his work life than his own personal home life which leaves Y/N in a conflicted decision that he refuses to accept.

Contents: Angst, Fluff, Mentions of divorce, light false accusations of cheating , use of foul language, arguing, Happy endings :)

🏷️ list: @alyyaanna @ginswife @coolpastelartshoe @greatkoalawizard @cokolin044 @kotoriarlert @alicerosejensen @bunnybot55 @agent-dessis-posts-deactivated2 @adollonyourshelf @mini-rhodes @southerngirl41 @harmshake @femdisa @kabloswrld @claymoresofinfamy23 @jeysbvck

{~I'm very serious with you guys interacting with my writing!!!! it would make me so happy & excited, the more comments & reposts the more inspiration i have to write :) likes and comments are strongly appreciated so please COMMENT COMMENT COMMENT COMMEENNTTT the more comments the more content <3!!!~}

Being married to Cody was not easy, especially if you were head over heels for the man, You thought that if he settled down, had children, etc, he would be less of a workaholic but boy were you wrong. He was on the road 24/7 You & the kids barely got to see him, You both were parents of 2, a 3 year old son named Silas & your new 9 month old daughter Brielle, He missed out on a lot within MONTHS.

Cody was a man who brought food on the table, he was man of the house but because of his absence it was leaving your song with many questions such as “Why didn’t daddy come to my birthday party?” Or “Why wasn’t daddy here for Christmas?” These were questions you had no idea how to answer to the poor kid other than “Daddy was busy” which was a bullshit answer, He should never be too busy to miss out on his sons 2nd birthday but once the 3rd birthday hit you were sick of it and his false promises. This made you order divorce papers before the birthday as a just incase moment if he didn’t show up to his sons party within a few weeks.

2 weeks prior to Silas’ 3rd birthday you two had argued over work and by the end of that shit show he promised with his entire soul he would be there for his sons 3rd birthday, but ultimately he couldn’t make it because of his schedule. This was becoming a regular habit almost every year, Cody missed out on your guys’ dates, holidays, birthday’s & anniversary..but this was the final straw.

It was the day of your son’s birthday and you waited in the backyard watching your toddler run around with his friends while other parents attempted asking you on where your husband was. You held Brielle in your arms checking your phone every few hours but got no updates from Cody.

And then night time struck. You set Brielle in her crib and pranced into your son’s room to tuck him in bed “Mommy?” You heard the 3 year old chirp out as he sat criss crossed in his bed with a moping expression “Yes sweetheart?” Silas frowned when you got to his level “Where’s daddy? He promised.” Your heart broke in half as your son asked where his father’s presence was, you shrugged and frowned before kissing the top of his head “Daddy got caught up in work sweetheart, I’m sorry,” he huffed and turned to his side once you finished tucking him in you had snuck into the bedroom that used to be shared with you & cody, you kneeled down to the height of your bedside table taking out the papers you had waiting for this very moment & began signing away what you possibly could on your side of the divorce & proceeded to walk downstairs with them and set them down on the kitchen counter next to the pen you had used consenting to the divorce.

around 2:30 in the morning you heard the door open & close in a quiet manner followed by a heavy sigh & luggage being set onto the ground which made you sit up from the couch, Cody looked over towards your direction and smiled lightly before taking notice at the irritated look on your face “You missed his party.” He heard you speak up and stop in his tracks before you stood up “Sweetheart there was problems with the bu-“ “You said that for our anniversary, his 2nd birthday, Christmas, Halloween, the excuse is getting outdated Cody.” He frowned and your words knowing you were right, “Well I’m here no-“ you shook your head while walking past your husband and booking it to the kitchen “I’m tired of this Cody. I love you & you know I do hut it kills me when our son is walking around with a hurt heart whenever he sees another child with a present father, he asks me almost 12 times a day where his daddy is or why didn’t you come to his birthday party. Hell he even requested to have a cake dedicated to yo-“ “Y/N I work like hell to put food on the table and keep a roof under your head!” You widened your eyes and glared “Quite honestly Cody I’d rather fucking starve to death if it meant my son & daughter’s father was present in their life! I’m sick of having all of the neighborhood moms gossiping about our marriage & I’m sick of you not being here for your kids & wife!.”

Cody frowned and tried approaching you but looked down at the counters for a split second and saw papers “What the hell is this?” You shrugged before rummaging through the fridge before pulling out a bottle of wine & pouring the red liquid into a glass “Divorce papers Cody. This marriage clearly isn’t working and I’d rather put it to an end now before it gets worse. You’re 4 steps away from having an affair with another woman with how far away you’ve been from your family so I’d rather prevent you betraying our marriage. I’m mainly doing it for the kid-“ “Y/N I would never cheat on you what the hell are you talking about?!”

You frowned setting down the glass & leaned against the counter behind you with crossed arms “You were nearly late when I gave birth to Brielle, You didn’t show up last Christmas or the Christmas before, You didn’t show up to your sons 3rd and 2nd birthday all for a fucking job that involves you getting punched everyday for a check. You forgot about our anniversary, I didn’t want to do this Cody but this marriage isn’t working, If I stayed any longer nothing would change, I have tried like hell to get you to be here for our family but your too focused on a paycheck then us.” You didn’t notice a tear roll down your face until it dropped onto your arm. Cody frowned & approached your carefully and shook his head “I’m not accepting those damn papers sweetheart, You know I won’t, I’m not leaving you or this fam-“ “You already have, You missed out on Brielle crawling for the first time, You missed out on your son joining the little leagues soccer team and getting a score, You even missed out on be finding out I was pregnant with Brielle Cody. How am I supposed to believe you when you haven’t been here to prove me anything?”

He shook his head and stepped closer towards you and tangled his fingers within your hair and wiped off your face with his free hand “Let me make it right sweetness, let me prove you wrong, I’ll do anything in my power to prevent this from happening, I’ll take time off, I’ll quit anything you want just say the word but goddamnit your not leaving me.” He crouched onto his knees in front of you and kissed your legs gently and gripped at the summer dress he gifted you that was hugging your body in the right ways, You’d never seen Cody beg on his knees before, especially for you to stay with him “Cody I want nothing from you, I don’t want child support from thi-“ “Y/N your not fucking divorcing me, I won’t allow it to happen & if you think for a millisecond in that beautiful goddamn brain of yours that I will then you are extremely mistaken.”

Your fingers ran through his hair as he stared up at you before kissing your stomach down your thigh to your leg before holding your hand and kissing the ring he placed on your dainty finger when you both were wedded. “Cody I can’t keep doing this anymore, You keep making false promises that I know I can no longer believe.” He frowned and gripped at your hips slightly while he shook his head non stop “Y/N I will never ever miss out on another holiday, anniversary, or birthday, it breaks me knowing you expect me to betray our marriage I will do anything in my power to prevent you from leaving me even if it means I quit my job baby.”

You frowned and thought about his words before hesitantly nodding your head which made his stand on his feet and holding your face in the palms of his hands “I promise I will never miss another important day ever again angel.” He mumbled before pulling her into a gentle kiss “I love you..” You muttered against his mouth before pulling away “I-I’m really sorry for pulling the whole divorce thing..” he shook his head and pulled you into a large hug “Don’t apologize sweetheart, I understand your frustrations & more than that but you also know by now that You’re not leaving me that easily” you smiled sadly against his shoulder and pull away while he gently grabbed ahold of your hand and placed a kiss on your wedding ring “Why don’t you go and get some rest alright? I’ll take control of everything tomorrow & I’ll empty out my schedule, go get some sleep alright?”

You held onto his hand and nodded hesitantly before pull away making your way upstairs to the bedroom you two would share, Cody stood in the kitchen & sighed running his hand down his jaw & glared over at the divorce papers before snatching them off of the counter & ripping them to shreds before dumping the pieces of paper in the trash before he went upstairs moments later.

The next morning you woke up to his side of the bed quite cold and empty which made you frown “Cody?” You tried calling out but you soon heard the giggles of Silas souring throughout downstairs which immediately pulled you into relief before climbing out of bed & making your way downstairs & seeing Cody serving a birthday breakfast to Silas which brought a warm smile on your face before approaching him “Morning sweetheart.” He hummed out before pushing a mug filled with coffee towards you which you took into your hands “Morning love” you walked past Silas who was eating the pancakes Cody made him & pressed a kiss into his head before doing the same with Brielle who was in a high chair.

You sat on the couch and looked over towards the kitchen once more & smiled to yourself as Cody kept to his word on being more present for you & the kids, You were immediately happy with the fact he fought for you to not go through with the divorce & ultimately proved his promises too you.

mamirhodessxox’s Masterlist

#cody rhodes #oh my fucking goooood #cody rhodes imagine #cody rhodes fic #cody rhodes x you #cody rhodes smut #wwe #wwe imagine #wwe smackdown #wweedit #mamirhodessxox #wwe edit #wwe jey uso #wwe john cena #wwe gifs #wwe fanfiction #wwe chyna #wwe cody rhodes #wwe superstars #wwe wrestlemania #wwe raw #cody rhodes edit #cody wwe #wwe lb #wwe nxt #wwe royal rumble #ww2 #wwe liveblog #wwe x reader #writing community

[bird-slayer-brainrot]

Soldier On, Come Down - Chpt. 1. - - Ineffable Husbands WW2 au human!Crowley angel!Aziraphale angst multi-chapter

(TW this chapter contains light gore (st*bbing so that bit will be marked with the first and final world in red text)

London, 1939

Aziraphale, Principality and Angel of the Eastern Gate of the Garden of Eden, loved humans.

He had lived amongst humans since his assignment on Eden had ended, and he quite enjoyed his role as Heaven’s official ambassador to humanity. It had been a shock to receive such a coveted position (as much as Angels could covet, anyway).

The job had its downsides, like any, but for the most part, Aziraphale could overlook these. The books, food, wine and art made it worth it.

Humans were amazingly clever creatures, with a knack for imagining purposeful, advanced creations to Angel in Heaven could have ever dreamed of, if they did dream. They were masterful artists, poets, writers, inventors. Aziraphale, nearly six thousand years into this extended assignment, stood in awe at the inventions of the human race.

The motorcar, however, was an exception.

On a Saturday evening in Soho, Aziraphale was particularly bothered. He had plans to attend an Opera at the West End. These plans were interrupted when the driver had stopped him miles from the theatre. It was drizzling, as it often did in London lately, and Aziraphale crowded himself underneath a canopy to avoid getting soaked.

Aziraphale could have miracled the driver to take him to the right language, but with the state of England and the war going on, he felt it was best to cut down on miracle usage just in case he needed them for something important, which he probably would. And he didn’t want to risk Heaven the memo from heaven about too many frivolous miracles.

“Are you going in?” a voice spoke beside him. Aziraphale turned, ready to offer his apologises

He hadn’t realised he had been standing in the entrance way to a storefront.

But he was stuck on the words as he came face to face with the man.

He was perhaps the most beautiful person Aziraphale had ever laid eyes on.

Aziraphale was still staring when the stranger cleared his throat.

“Oh, my apologies.” Aziraphale said too loudly. The gentlemen was dressed in black and grey, which would have struck Aziraphale as unusual if, immediately after, Aziraphale noticed his striking copper hair. He wore it longer than was the fashion. He was also very tall, and slender. He held a black umbrella that he seemed to be in the process of wringing out his umbrella before he’d noticed Aziraphale.

“Are you alright?” the gentlemen said with concern. Aziraphale was still staring, so he tore his gaze from the gentlemen’s face.

“No. Yes. I mean.” Aziraphale stuttered. “I just got caught in the rain.”

The man nodded, the small smile still on his face, then he held out his umbrella.

“Would you like to borrow mine?” he said without hesitation.  Aziraphale looked up him again ready to insist he was fine, but stopped when he noticed his eyes.

They were the colour of liquid gold, except for the ring of green surrounding his pupils. It was deep, Earthy green Aziraphale last recalled seeing in the Garden back when he’d first received this assignment.

“No. No thank you.” Aziraphale said softly. “I think I should like to stay here.”

*

My Dear Anthony,

I hope by the time this letter reaches you in England that you and Anathema will be quite settled in, with Annie at university and you doing your things (I must confess, I don’t quite recall the word you used to describe your profession. It may come to me one day.)

I must admit, dear brother, that although you grumble when I express sentiments to you, that I will miss you terrible when you return to England. There shall be a Crowley-shaped hole in my heart, I should think, for a long time till come. Please do come back and visit us in California.

Thank you for taking care of Anathema. It has always been her dream to attend Oxford. Do you remember when she was a little girl, with her book on magic and fairytales? She’d take it with her everywhere.

She can be quite stubborn at times, but she is a remarkable young woman, and I know that, under your guidance, my dear Annie will be something great. Please give her my love.

Take care of yourself.

Your Loving Sister,

Lucy

-

Crowley smiled down at the letter from his sister. He would never admit it, of course, but he missed his sister terribly. California, too, with its bright, sunny weather. The rain and fog of London coloured the world bleak in comparison.

Crowley had been back in London for a month. Anathema, his niece, was due to start at Oxford, once she got her acceptance, in three months.

She was a standout in stuffy old England, with her American wardrobe, accent, and mannerisms. She stood out in LA, too. She’d spent the days

Crowley had an apartment in Soho that he’d rented out in the year he’d been in America. The death of Lucy’s husband and Anathema’s father had hit their family hard. With their pieces stitched haphazardously back together, Anathema had decided that Oxford was her calling. England was a fresh start, and Crowley had to return at some point. Her mother had, after some convincing, agreed.

He was meant to meet Anathema for dinner that evening at the pub they frequented later on. With nothing else to do, Crowley decided a walk and some fresh air would do him some good, and stepped out into the English rain.

*

The Drooping Donkey had all the grace of a typical Soho bar on a Saturday evening. There was a group of soldiers crowded around a pretty young woman playing the piano, a lively war-tune Aziraphale recalled hearing over the radio on the BBC earlier that morning when he was rearranging his Atlas collection. They nursed warming bears. Chatty patrons took up the tables. There was luckily one spare (Aziraphale may have the ability to have any table he wished to, however he believed in ethical use of miracles) and, after ordering a glass of the house red, Aziraphale made his way over to it and took a seat, content to wait out the storm before going home.

When Aziraphale looked up, he made eye contact with the red-haired gentlemen from earlier. He was alone at the bar, and when Aziraphale looked at him, he did something completely surprising. He smiled.

An hour later, Aziraphale was still recounting the event in self-pity. He could leave now, as the handsome stranger had left. In truth, he’d been too shocked by the gentlemen (who had, upon meeting him, offered him his own umbrella?) and had been unable to use his brain. He had no choice but to enter the bar after the gentlemen, who had held the door out for Aziraphale. Even now, Aziraphale replayed the memory of that brief, awkward interaction over and over in his head. It was pointless. It wasn’t like Aziraphale would ever see him again. He was a human. A handsome, kind human. Still, he had appreciated that small show of kindness. It left a warm feeling in Aziraphale’s chest. The war was getting to him.  

It was dark outside by the time Aziraphale exited The Drooping Donkey. The rain had cleared and, while the street maintained most of the business of a typical Soho Saturday, the sidewalk was mostly deserted. That’s why, when Aziraphale heard a noise like a group of hushed voices and a loud banging sound, he immediately rushed to the source.

The redhead man from the bar laid crumbled against the wall of a deserted alley. He was bundled behind bags of rubbish. Aziraphale hurried over to him, kneeling down to see better and miracleing a source of light. Aziraphale’s checked that the man was still breathing first, which he was, but was barely conscious. In the light, Aziraphale could see immediately that he had multiple injuries. His face was bruised, and his knuckles and hands were red. Then, Aziraphale spotted the spreading red across his stomach. Just below it, there was a knife.

It lay discarded in the wet, tossed carelessly, as though it had not just killed a man.

The stranger groaned as Aziraphale lifted the fabric away from the knife wound to locate the stab wound. It didn’t take long to find it. Blood gushed down the man’s abdomen from the puncture, and bile threatened to rise in Aziraphale’s throat as he realised that the kind stranger likely wouldn’t survive it. He had lost too much blood. Aziraphale had no idea how long he had been here, left like this. There was no time to take him to a hospital. He hadn’t been with a wife or friends at the bar. He would likely die here, cold, and alone.

Aziraphale reached down, pressing a hand against the wound, and healing it. It was overkill, to heal it completely, but the man looked in enough pain that Aziraphale couldn’t help but want to help him as best as he could. He spluttered at the motion, coughing harshly. Aziraphale stood up quickly, miracleing his trousers clean from where they had been stained by water and blood. He also miracled the stranger unconscious.

Aziraphale would have liked to have stayed with the stranger to make sure he got better, but he couldn’t answer the questions the man would obviously have. With any luck, the gentleman would wake up with a nasty hangover, with little recollection of what had occurred the night before. He’d likely interpret the black eye as being the result of a minor drunken scuffle. He would not remember Aziraphale, and Aziraphale would never see him again.

A kindness for a kindness was all it was. Miracling him out of sight, Aziraphale turned, and walked away.

#ineffable husbands #neil gaimen #good omens #david tennant #michael sheen #aziraphale #crowley #my writing #writing #creative writing #fanfiction #fanfiction writing #aziracrow #aziraphale x crowley #anthony j crowley #human!crowley #angel!aziraphale #ww2 fiction #ww2 au #england ww2 #angst #romance

[diogxnxs]

Just wrote a short DonZe fanfic that's set after the war at the Pacific has finally been won. I decided to write this in Jose's perspective. I've always found that bit of Donald serving in the Pacific Theater during World War 2 very interesting. There's just so much about that can be explored from the perspective of various characters. And I thought that, Jose must've been very nervous. Heck, maybe he didn't think Donald would come back. So here you go.

#Donald Duck #Jose Carioca #Ze Carioca #DonZe #Disney #Ducktales #Duckverse #Fanfiction #My Art #My Writing #Saludos Amigos #The Three Caballeros #The Legend of the Three Caballeros #WW2 Donald Duck

[plentyoffandoms]

Main Masterlist ♡ Hook Masterlist ♡ Alternate Universe Masterlist

My Darling Nurse

Hook x f/Reader (WW2 AU)

Just like all my other stories, this has not been proofread, but please enjoy.

Warnings: mentions of War.

Gifs & photos do not belong to me

WC 1305

My Dearest Mother,

I know it has been long since you got my last letter, and I know you must have been worried sick about me, and for that, I am very sorry.

It is hard for us to get letters and packages from home, and even more so for us to send a letter home.

I will not dull you with the details of what I go through every day here, but I let you know about some of the good things that have happened to me.

Ever since arriving at this island, I have been taken under the wing by Lieutenant James Cipperly and Dustin Howard. They say that they trained under Father.

My good friend Donovan also got shipped with me here. I know his wife and step-daughter must feel like you. Sick with worry over the lack of letters.

We have been here for four months already, but it seems like a lifetime.

I was hit by shrapnel, but I was quickly taken care of by a wonderful nurse, whose name I can not remember sadly, but Mother, I am perfectly fine. I just have the faintest scar from it.

I will say this, though: I miss home. I miss Massapequa, which I never thought I would ever say.

I thought I needed to see the world, but I am sick of seeing the world. After all this is done and if I survive this war, I will never leave Massapequa.

But coming home and surviving this madness isn't the only thing that is keeping me going.

I met someone.

Yes, it is ridiculous to fall in love during war time, but she was like an angel who was sent from heaven to take care of me. She helped the nurse, whom I mentioned previously in this letter.

Her name is YN LN, and mother she is unlike any woman I have met in my short life. I learned so much about her in the short time we have spent together.

I told her I was going to marry her once this war was over, and she giggled at me. Oh, mother, her laughter, even the thought of it brings such a smile to my face, the other men must think I have gone crazy.

She is smart, so very smart. She beat me at chess. I was Massapequa chess champion, and she beat me at it. Even the older nurses look at her for guidance as she that smart.

She is gorgeous, not just in body but in mind. I have never felt this way about someone in my life.

I can not promise that I will come back, Mother, but I will try, and if I do, I will be bringing home a wife.

Your faithful son,

Tyler

My darling son,

I am so happy to hear from you. I was worried sick, and I waited every day for the mail to arrive to see if I had gotten a letter from you or your father.

Speaking of your father, you may have heard the news by the time you get this letter. He was injured, and he lost the lower part of his left leg.

He has been shipped home, and I see him every day until I am told to go home.

I return to an empty home, with only Dolly and Shooter to welcome me home. They are good dogs, and they hardly leave my side when I am home.

I hope your father likes sleeping with dogs because they have now taken over his side of the bed. I am training them to sleep at my feet.

Enough of myself.

My son, Tyler Senerchia, is in love?

I never thought I would ever see the day. This YN must be someone special for her to capture your interest.

My dear boy, you write as if you do plan on surviving this war. I may not know all the details about what is going on in the Pacific, but you must come back to your family. You must come back to your father and I. Come back to Dolly and Shooter, who will lay on your bed, missing you.

All I can say is please come home to me and your father. I wish for YN to survive as well if you are so sure about marrying this woman.

I miss you, my son.

My only child.

I will have your father write to you once he is feeling up to it. Just to let you know, he kept the last letter you wrote me under his pillow at the hospital.

I know he is worried about you. He knows what war can do to a young man's mind. That was why he was adamant about you not signing up for the war.

We love you, Tyler.

Your mother.

The moment we were informed that the war was over, I hugged Donovan, happy that the two of us made it through this hell.

But we still weren't allowed to go home yet. There was work that needed to be done. The able-bodied men were put to work, but there was only one person on my mind.

She made it through the war, but I know she is still very busy getting the injured ready to travel back to wherever that may be.

But I finally had a break and practically ran to where she was now located.

I watched from the distance as she helped load a man on a stretcher, but once that was done, she looked in my direction, like she knew I was there.

I walked quickly to her and wrapped my arms around her waist, lifting her into the air, making her squeal.

"Tyler, I am dirty." She told me as I placed her back on her feet.

"I do not care, YN. All I care about is that we made it."

"That we did." She gave me a soft smile as she took a step back, out of my arms. At first, I was hurt but then realised that everyone was watching us.

"You remembered what I said when I first met you."

"Of course, silly. You told me you were going to marry me."

"Exactly, and I am still serious about that. Even though I do not have a ring with me, YN LN, will you marry me?"

I waited with baited breath. Every second felt like ten minutes as I waited for her to answer.

"Yes, Tyler. I will marry you."

I wanted to pull her into my arms and kiss her, but that will happen when we are alone.

Dearest Mother and Father.

I wish to inform you that I will be arriving home, hopefully by the end of summer, and I will be bringing my fiancé YN with me.

I proposed to her without a ring, but that will change when I get home. Mother, you told me I can have Grandma Smiths engagement ring. I would like for YN to have it that is still alright?

This letter is short, I know, but there is still much to be done.

I love you both, and I can not wait for you to meet YN.

Your son,

Tyler.

YN and I were surrounded by the people we cared most about as we said our vows at my family's church.

The moment we became husband and wife, and we kissed, I dipped her, and she squealed unto my mouth, her hands wrapping even tighter around my neck.

My parents loved her, as well as our dogs. Her family loves me, even with her moving to Massapequa.

With my grandmother's engagement ring on her finger, along now with a new wedding ring, we ran down the aisle, looking forward to spending the rest of our lives together.

Tag list: @lghockey @nicoleveno14 @legit9thlunaticwarrior @hooks-martin @wwenhlimagines @melissahausen @faerieofthenightcourt @tahiri-veyla @midwestmade29

#aew #all elite wrestling #reader imagine #female reader #reader insert #hook aew #hook imagine #hook fanfiction #hook fic #hook x female reader #hook x f/Reader #hook #wrestler x f/Reader #wrestler fic #ww2 fiction #ww2 wrestler #hook au

[cc-horan28]

Be My Valentine - 9

The Wind, It Held Your Soul

(T) 1.7k

WW2 AU Soldier!Louis Tomlinson x Doctor!Harry Styles (3/3)

Tw death, implied time period accurate homophobia

Harry swallowed, lump in his throat firmly lodged, hands shaking as he glanced down at the little strip of paper.

18 words. They would be emblazoned across his mind forever. 18 words that changed everything. He still remembered the look Gemma had given him as she handed him the paper. 

OR

Harry is widowed in a time he cannot even accept it in public.

A/N: A huge thank you to Ash for helping me figure out the ending! And I love you Nashie and Anna for being there when I was having breakdowns over this! And ofc, ty to Akeyla for holding this fest and these amazing prompts just ah! 

Title from Louis’ ‘Holding On To Heartache’!

Harry swallowed, lump in his throat firmly lodged, hands shaking as he glanced down at the little strip of paper.

18 words. They would be emblazoned across his mind forever. 18 words that changed everything. He still remembered the look Gemma had given him as she handed him the paper. 

He had run from the stables as fast as he could when he’d heard the cook, Mrs O’Leary calling out to him. It had been months since he’d been sent back after a shell landed at the hospital Harry was working in, onfield. He had been waiting so long. He had thought it was a letter- from-

Louis. His Louis.

A sob racked his body as he bent over, paper crumpling as his fist closed down, nails digging into his palm. The pain was the only thing grounding him right now. 

He had to give it everything he had to hold back from screaming. He squeezed his eyes shut, pawing at his eyes with his closed fist. Louis won’t like- wouldn’t- Another wave of anger passed through him as he sobbed, not caring if anyone heard him.

His Louis. The telegram wasn’t even sent to him. Of course it wouldn’t. To them they were nothing. To them they didn’t- couldn’t even exist. None of that mattered. None of it mattered. He wouldn’t even get to hold a funeral for him. He couldn’t face the idea of burying an empty coffin, of having to pretend he was just a coworker- a friend. Like he wasn’t there for the only man he’d ever loved. 

He had no idea how long he stayed curled up like that, lost in thoughts of LouisLouisLouis. It was the cold that finally forced him to sit up, head freezing from where he had been resting it against the glass.

He couldn’t even face moving away from the bay window, going near the fireplace. That would involve seeing Louis’ sofa. 

Harry remembered how he would climb onto him, slotting himself onto the single-seater, legs tangled with his, toasting crumpets by the fire, sipping the tea Harry didn’t even like but had anyway, just to keep Louis company.

This bay window was Louis’ idea. ‘So we can sit together properly’, he used to say with that grin of his, eyes all crinkled up, ‘Without you squashing me,’- Harry ran his hand over the soft leather, smoothened by the years of use. Everything was his, wasn’t it-

He exhaled shudderingly, distantly surprised when he saw it fogging up in front of him. 

His face was cold, tear tracks feeling icy on his skin. He eased his grip on the paper, hugging one of the pillows to his chest as he glanced down,

WESTERN UNION

DEEPLY REGRET TO INFORM YOU THAT CAPTAIN LOUIS TOMLINSON IS OFFICIALLY REPORTED AS KILLED IN ACTION JULY NINTH. 

Tears welled up, clouding his vision as he clutched the pillow closer, burying his face in it. He cried loudly, beyond caring if anyone heard him, wailing out Louis’ name plaintively.

He breathed deeply when he pulled back, feeling slightly dizzy. He could have sworn he smelled jasmine and cinnamon. Hints of the Brumes perfume Louis liked- had liked- to wear at home.

Sure, it had said pour femme on the little bottle, he thought with a small, sad smile; but Louis never cared. Neither of them did.

He vaguely registered the insistent knocking on the door and curled up with his back to it, holding on to the pillow.

“Harold. Harry, please.” he heard Gemma say, slowly, like she was measuring each word out, but the slight tremor in her voice gave her away “Harry, don’t isolate yourself. I know- I understand you need space. And time. But this isn’t what Louis would have wanted,”

Harry barely registered what her next words were, all coherent thoughts drowned out by the rush of anger he felt. 

“Don’t you take his name, not just to console me,” he shouted, stalking across the room and throwing the door open, “Don’t take his name, Gemma. Not when you brought me this godforsaken piece of paper.” He waved the said paper around, tears milling in his eyes despite the anger he felt. He knew his anger at his sister wasn’t justified, but he couldn’t care less.

“Don’t,” he repeated, voice breaking as he collapsed onto the ground, sitting on his haunches with his head in his hands. 

“Louis,” he cried, slumping onto the ground, legs a tangle, the carpet cold under him. 

He felt Gemma crouch beside him, whispering something that he didn’t quite understand over his own voice, but he stood up when she did, letting himself be led to the sofa by the fireplace. 

She didn’t say anything, just gently combed through his hair as he stared at Louis’ sofa. 

Louis’ sofa

It hit him at once, and this time he couldn’t even choke out any sounds. Louis’ sofa which wasn’t his anymore. Where he wouldn’t sit anymore. 

Harry was grateful for her silence, her company. He wasn’t sure what he would do if he was left alone right now. He couldn’t fathom why he had wanted her to leave. Not her too-

He felt tears silently run down his face, gruelling visions of Louis alone somewhere, over the Channel, lying in a field threatening to swallow him. He tried to push the thoughts away, curling up into his sister, pulling his feet up, and taking shaky breaths to try and calm himself.

They sat there, Harry quietly hiccupping as he felt his tears dry up, only to be replaced by anger. It wasn’t aimed at Gemma this time, though.

“I didn’t even get the telegram,” he said, voice raspy already, “They didn’t even send it to me. My husband is gone, and they couldn’t even send me a fucking telegram,” His voice was rising, and he felt himself shaking with the intensity of all that he felt. 

“Harry,” Gemma breathed out, sighing deeply and choosing not to say anymore. Harry needed to get it out of his system. 

“They couldn’t because that would mean acknowledging us. They’re too busy pretending we don’t fucking exist and throwing those who protest into jails. I don’t want to erase him, Gem. I don’t want to erase us,” he broke off, closing his eyes as he bent over, forehead resting on his knees as he finally let himself think of Louis, fresh tears streaming down his cheeks. 

“I’m not going to pretend,” he said, toying with the congealed dried eggs on his plate, like it was the most natural conversation to have. Like he hadn’t not said a word for two days. “We’ll hold a proper service for him. And I won’t pretend. I won’t talk about how great a person he was, or what a good soldier he was,” 

His voice was raspy from disuse, throat raw from all the crying and screaming he’d done, bouncing between mad anger and complete desolation. He took the glass of orange juice Gemma offered with a silent nod.

She had been an angel, a constant presence, never invading his space, giving him the time he needed to process while still being a rock he could anchor to.

He took a small sip, ignoring the tears that were threatening to spill. He would have time for all that later, but he wanted Louis to have a proper send-off, and so would his sisters. And he knew Louis would have done the same, had the tables been turned. Had it been him killed on the Somme.

He quickly brushed the tears away, almost angry at himself. 

“It’s okay if there’s another service, an official one, for everyone else. But I won’t attend it,” he said as firmly as he could in his state, “Everyone who knew, who cared about him- about us- we’ll have a separate service.” 

That was all he could muster up the strength to say. Gemma stood up, patting his shoulder and kissing his cheek lightly. “He would be proud,” she whispered, “And so am I. I’ll give you some time. Ring for me if you want to talk,”

He pushed the plate away, watching Gemma’s retreating figure silently. He folded his arms and buried his head in them. 

He was used to the silence by now.

He closed his eyes as he threw the last handful of dirt, face tilted up as he let the sun warm his face. The tears coursing down his cheeks still stung against the wind, but the golden glow he saw from behind his eyelids made it just a bit more bearable. He wasn’t sure what he would have done if it was grey and rainy.

Sunny days were Louis’ favorite, Harry thought, biting down on his lower lip. He used to love heading off to Kensington, getting some fresh rolls on their way there and having them by the pond. They always had to sit just a bit too far away, and still got suspicious glares from passersby, but Harry wouldn’t have had it any other way.

None of it changed the fact that Louis was gone and Harry doubted if he would ever entirely come to terms with it. With never seeing his eyes crinkle with laughter, or hear him singing his versions of Vera Lynn’s songs. With never waking up to him sipping his awful unsweetened tea next to him, newspaper rustling as he bent down to kiss him. With never seeing him again.

No, he couldn’t think like that. Louis was always the romantic between them, talks of a beautiful after, free from pain and discrimination and everything they hated being brought up whenever they got even vaguely theological, or drunk, or both.

He couldn’t help but chuckle weakly, thinking back to those evenings together. 

Some day, he would see Louis again. The jasmine in the air, with not a bloom in sight was a testament to that.

They would never fade away. But for now, the silence would have to do.

A/N: again, I'm so sorry i don't know what possessed me to write this. Don't go and reread the first post. No matter what

Reblogs are always appreciated 💕

#bemyvalentine2024 #bemyvalentineno9 #widowed #larry stylinson #tw death #tw implied homophobia #Harry Styles #Louis Tomlinson #WW2 AU #angst #so much angst #hlcreators #hltracks #hlficlibrary #sorry for the ending #larry fics #larry fanfiction #larry angst #one direction

[mlmxreader]

Handsome G.I. | Robert Zussman x gn!reader

『••✎••』

↳ ❝ “i’ve been thinking lately..” “oh no.” zussman x gn!reader 👁️👅👁️?? ❞

: ̗̀➛ Zussman isn't too happy when he notices that his favourite corporal has been spending time with the British officers.

: ̗̀➛ jealousy, smoking, swearing

•──────────────────★•♛•★─────────────────•

Crouched down in the bushes, you could feel the fine hairs at the back of your neck standing on edge; you and Zussman had been paired together for the latest patrol, as you always were.

You worked well together, the perfect dynamic duo; even Pierson couldn't deny it, and knew all too well that if he wanted results, it was you and Zussman who would get them. Zussman was the brains between you, more thoughtful in his decisions, but you were hot headed and took actions over plans every time.

The perfect opposites.

Your temper's fire burned brightly and harshly, and his cool demeanour and relaxed nature was as soft as the kiss of the year's first snow. You were a great match. Red, especially, liked the fact that you and Zussman were a great match together.

It suited you both, you balanced each other out. But even then, you and Zussman were not without your own interpersonal issues; when the battalion teamed up with the British SOE, something changed between you and Zussman.

The two agents who had been assigned - Vivian and Arthur - were… getting in the way. It started out just fine, but the more time that the British agents pulled you away from Zussman, the more he didn’t like it one bit; there seemed to be something going on, something that he absolutely despised but couldn’t be sure why.

Whenever Red pulled you away from him, Zussman didn’t mind whatsoever. After all, you were good friends with Red, and Red had his beloved Hazel waiting for him back home; in fact, Zussman liked the fact that you and Red were so close - his best friend and his favourite corporal getting along was like the perfect dream.

There just happened to be something about the British agents that rubbed Zussman the wrong way.

Maybe it was the way that Arthur smiled at you so sweetly and how he often complimented your looks; maybe it was the way that Vivian always blushed when she laughed at your jokes and how she often made you coffee in the mornings.

Zussman didn’t like it, he felt replaced, like you no longer wanted to be around him and you would have preferred to spend time with others instead of him. Like you no longer wanted to be around him, wanted nothing to do with him.

It was upsetting, really, and he wasn’t really sure how to go about it in all honesty. It was a harsh and cold day, the snow had been falling even harder than it had been the last few days, and the ice on the roads made the asphalt slick and unsteady; the winds had been blowing harshly, howling and screaming constantly.

Zussman had given you his coat a few hours ago, insisting on keeping you warm while he waited in the foxhole with you; it was impossible to go back to camp, the snow was falling thickly and heavily, blowing in your faces the very moment you tried to get out.

You were forced to hide out until the snow storm passed, until it all blew over for good. Zussman looked at you, clearing his throat as he moved a little closer, chewing the inside of his lip.

“I’ve been thinking lately…”

“Oh, no.” You eyed him suspiciously. “That’s never good.”

Zussman rolled his eyes, shaking his head as he glared at you. “No, I mean it, I just… what’s the deal with you and those British agents?”

You scoffed as you lit up a cigarette, handing it over to him before lighting another for yourself. “What’d you mean, Rob?”’

Sighing heavily, he took a drag from the cigarette and shrugged, pouting slightly. “Just… you seem to really like ‘em, y’know, and they really like you.”

You shrugged, rubbing the back of your neck for a moment, the cigarette dangling from your lips. “Yeah, I mean, they’re nice, and they’re both really smart.”

He hummed, frowning a little as he hung his head and licked his lips. “So, uh, you’re gonna get pretty close to them?”

“I mean, I doubt it,” you laughed softly. “They’re only helping us out for a little while, and… well, I ain’t gonna see the end of the war, so I can’t, y’know, see being friends with them for… y’know.”

“Right,” Zussman said quietly. “But, uhm… do you, y’know, do you see yourself being friends with them while they’re here?”

“You’re acting weird,” you told him with a shrug. “You sure you’re alright?”

He shook his head, grumbling softly. “I just… y’know, I don’t… I feel replaced, for fuck’s sake. Like you’d rather spend time with them.”

You moved a little closer to him, resting your head against his shoulder as you hummed quietly; your hand resting on his thigh as you smiled softly at him. “Oh, Robbie.”

“What?”

“It’s alright to get jealous,” you told him gently. “I just wish you would’ve said sooner.”

“Why?”

“Because then I could’ve done this,” you chuckled, leaning over and softly kissing him. 

Zussman grinned, putting his hand at the back of your neck so he could deepen the kiss, groaning softly when you moved to sit on his lap, your hands on his shoulders; he eventually broke the kiss, smiling up at you as he raised his brows, licking his lips.

“Well, hi, Corporal,” he breathed out.

“Good afternoon, Private,” you hummed softly, letting your hands rest on his chest. “Say, you wouldn’t think there’s anything going on between me and the British officers, would you?”

Zussman shook his head. “No… not at all. I just want you to admit one thing for me.”

“Oh?”

“Admit that you really did fall for the handsome, American G.I.” He grinned, letting his hands drift down to your thighs and grabbing them tightly. “Think you can do that?”

You grinned back as you adjusted yourself on his lap, humming softly as you cleared your throat and tried not to laugh. “Alright, maybe I did fall for the handsome, American G.I., a lot more than what I could’ve guessed.”

#mlem writes #robert zussman x reader #robert zussman #cod ww2 fanfic #cod ww2 #cod fanfiction #cod fanfic #cod fic #cod imagine #cod oneshot #cod one shot #cod x reader #cod x you #cod x yn #cod x y/n #cod #call of duty fanfiction #call of duty fanfic #call of duty fic #call of duty imagine #call of duty oneshot #call of duty one shot #call of duty x reader #call of duty x you #call of duty x y/n #call of duty x yn #call of duty

[agusrkive]

under the New Year’s Eve mistletoe

Coldest Winter (Levi Ackerman)

summary: a soldier’s heart and a man’s will is tested when war breaks out leaving him stranded and finds himself far away from the life he only once dreamed of the moment he met you.

There is no glory in battle worth the blood it costs, for war does not determine who is right— only who is left.

ELD. 848 PL.

December 24, 1942

under command/ FADM Erwin Smith

Sgt. Annie Leonhart wounded

Sgt. Pieck Finger wounded

Sgt. Marco Bott wounded

T/Sgt. Connie Springer wounded

1st Sgt. Armin Arlert wounded

1st Sgt. Jean Kirschtein wounded

1st Sgt. Bertolt Hoover wounded

M/Sgt. Miche Zacharius wounded

T/Sgt. Colt Grice killed in action

1st Sgt. Porco Galliard killed in action

1st Sgt. Marcel Galliard killed in action

1st Sgt. Reiner Braun missing in action

1st Sgt. Logan Magath missing in action

M/Sgt. Zeke Jaëger missing in action

M/Sgt. Levi Ackerman missing in action

December 8, 1942

to my dearest,

I wrote this letter to you on the 14th of July, Year 1942. It is with a heavy heart I bring this news to you. Today, the platoon had decided to send our unit to the north of Kolberg, Germany for the next operation. It seems like the war won’t be stopping anytime soon and by the time you have received this, it will be around late December. I miss you and not a single day goes by that my thoughts weren’t plagued by you.

I missed you and think of you even at times I shouldn’t. I have you in mind all the time and I haven’t forgotten about the promise I made to you.

I might not be able to come home soon, but I will come home to you and run with my feet if I have to. Right now, it must be the eve of the 31st of December when you’re reading this.

Please don’t worry about me and I’ll do the same. There’s a lot of things for me to say that the tip of my pen won’t be able to suffice and before I forget to tell you, there’s an odd spot at your place where I seem to have grown fond of, especially with my last visit a year ago. At the backdoor where the scenery of nature can be witnessed, there’s something that I would like to do. I won’t go into details, but I hope when the next winter comes, I’ll be there by your side. Then we’ll settle the rest of things under the mistletoe.

The world is cruel and full of danger, but it’s merciful enough to have led me to you.

- L.A

#levi ackerman #happy new year #modern au #romance #1942 #nature #new year’s eve #levi ackerman x reader #war #ww2 #literature #love letters #soldier #fluff #fiction #light angst #letters #levi #shingeki no levi #attack on titan levi #snk levi #levi x reader #levi aot #levi x you #levi ackerman x fem!reader #writers on tumblr #non canon #attack on titan #fanfiction #bad boy levi

[princessconsuelapark]

metal skin by nowhere_blake

James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers & Dog Tags & Jewish Bucky Barnes & Established Relationship & Bucky Barnes Recovering & Supportive Sam Wilson

He shrugs again. ‘It’s not on my record. Have Protestant on my dog tags in case of capture. It was what we did,’ he says, more offhand than he feels, and he’s not sure if that’s a lie or not. It was certainly what he did. But he doesn’t have it in himself to feel cowardly about it anymore. He was trying to get home to Steve. He knows he would make the same choice over and over again if he had to. OR Bucky lies about his next of kin for his dog tags, and things kind of spiral from there.

#stucky #stevebucky #steve x bucky #stucky fanfiction #stucky fic #stucky fic rec #captain america #my post #fanfiction by me #well hello i wrote a thing #it's painful #no happy ending today kiddos sorry #but it's sort of hopeful <3 #i don't know how the fuck this happened #i just read a thing about ww2 dog tags and then suddenly 7k ????

[footprintsinthesxnd]

I Think I Love You

Pairings: Jake Seresin x reader Summary: this is a blurb I wrote for @desert-fern for my 1K celebration with the prompt ‘I think I love you for 1940s Jake. I hope you like it Fern Warnings: heartbreak, leaving for war, losing a loved one.

(Y/n) had been pre-warned about this day two weeks prior but that still wouldn’t have been enough time to come to terms with the gut-wrenching feeling of losing him. The train had rolled into the station, bellowing smoke and sounding its horn, its ominous presence is known to everyone standing on the platform. She clutched tighter onto his uniform, desperately clinging to his lapel in the hope that if she just held on tight enough he’d stay. Jake gripped her hips tighter, fingers curling around the material of her dress. Through teary eyes (Y/n) could see his solemn face, his usually smiling lips turned down in a frown and his bright blue eyes overcast like the sea on a stormy day.

“Please don’t go,” she whispered into his chest as Jake pulled her into a tight hug, gripping her close to him, engulfing her in his large arms as he heard the whistle of the conductor blowing his whistle for the troops to begin boarding the train.

He sighed, “You know I have to go. I have to do this, (Y/n).”

“No, you don’t!” She cried, “You don’t have to go, you could stay here, with me.”

Jake smiled sadly at her, “I’ll be back before you know it. I promise you.” He ran his thumb over her cheek slowly, tracing the features of her face as if he was trying to commit her to memory.

The conductor shouted again, blowing his whistle as he tried to encourage the remaining soldiers to board the train.

“I have to go,” Jake stepped back slowly, picking up his kit bag. Tears began pouring down (Y/n) face as she let out a desperate sob. Jake turned away from her, unable to watch her heartbreak. He reached the door, putting one foot onto the step before he turned, rushing back towards her. She watched in shock as he grabbed her face, crashing his lips into hers in a bone-crushing kiss, his searing lips bruising hers but she didn’t mind. (Y/n) reached up, curling her fingers around the back of his neck and pulling him closer.

When they both pulled away gasping for air, Jake mumbled into her neck.

“What was that?” (Y/n) asked, pushing him away slightly.

“I think I’m in love with you,” he admitted, his eyes avoiding her face as he glared at his boots.

“I think I love you too,” she replied, a small smile spreading across her face. Jake’s face broke into a wide smile before he kissed her again. He grabbed his bag, rushed to his seat on the train and threw open the window.

“I love you,” he shouted, waving his hands at her frantically. (Y/n) let out a hearty laugh, waving back at him.

“I love you too.”

“I’ll write to you every day,” Jake promised as the train began to pull out of the station.

(Y/n) stood on the platform with the other women, watching as the train retreated into the distance carrying their men away from them. (Y/n) now wouldn’t see Jake for many years but that moment stayed with her until they were reunited on that very same platform years later.

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

#jake hangman seresin #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake seresin fanfiction #jake seresin fluff #jake seresin #hangman imagine #ww2 au #1940s #1k celebration

[yours-dearly]

Tangled in my soul

My dearest, I long for you greatly

The feeling of dried blood on the tips of his fingers while he rubbed them together was distracting, he made the choice to focus on that instead of what had beed occupying his mind , but once the door slammed open he was brought back to where he was currently seated outside the office of LT. Williams, looking down, he took notice of the absence of blood anywhere near - for the time being he reminded himself - and that his fingertips was clean or well at least they looked like it.

After following the lieutenant into the small space he took notice of how his left leg seems to have gotten worst since last time, he didn't have time to think about it when the higher rankings man rasped out a cough and started speaking “ welcome back CPL. Barnes it's good to know that you've made it “ , despite the warm words the tone that was carrying them was not delivering the sane warmth, it was empty and monotoned like he just said those same words over and over until they lost the soul within them now only syllables rolling off onto the air.

“ S’good t’be back lieutenant but we both know y’aint bringing be here for all’at so get to it “ I ain't in no mood for formalities he thought but kept the last bit reserved in his mind , the older gave him a side eye from where he stood looking almost reliefed to get to the point, “ well aren't ya in a hurry , and here I was thinking you'd be happy to hear what I have for ya “ he spoke finally looking at him in the eyes before taking a seat the chair screeching lightly under his weight with how old it was .

“ the last time you ‘ had something for me ‘ -” he mimicked his tone not thinking it through earning a stern look before muttering an apology and continuing”- ya had me shipped off to a hell-made-hole almost freezing alongside my men, I feel i shouldn't be all'at optimistic with ya “ he finished and the cold started creeping up on him again, like the mere mention of it was enough to summon the winter.

“ nah don't you worry , it ain't an order I just thought ya’d like to know that you got promoted, congrats Sergeant “ well- that took a turn and not the one I was expecting he thought and although it was a ‘ promotion ‘ he felt the heaviness of the syllables tug at his shoulders but he smiled nonetheless “ well I sure wasn’t expecting that “ he spoke his forehead wrinkling with the rise of his eyebrows.

He ran, sprinted, head first from that tent into his own ,he needed to write to her , short tempered because that could have waited, lunching himself onto his seat he fished his pocket for what was sitting heavily in it since he got it , for what tugged at the strings of his heart with every second calling him oh so desperately.

He carefully unfolded the pages , he can't afford even a mere fold in his darling's very own dear words , the words that kept him from losing his sanity ever since he got drafted into this hell of a war

My dearest, james

I hope this letter finds you well and warm, it's been a while since I received anything from you so if you haven't lost your hands yet I better not find my mail box empty.

It's been really hectic here jamie, bonnie got a telegram a few days ago regarding the death of Daniel, sweet soft Daniel oh how cruel it was to watch it all down on her , so please for my sanity come back to me because I don't know what I'd do with myself if you didn't .

how's it been going? You back yet oh I hope you are, I hope you are nothing but warm and safe I really do , I know I can't keep the nightmares away , I'm no medic either so all I can do is sit and hope and pray for this big act of horror and terror to end so could finally come to me , to your ma , to your home.

I'd make you the warmest meals , hold you close and never let you go unless you are so sick of me , I'd bring you all the sweets that you love from mrs. Ann 's bakery, everything you my heart will ask for I'd kiss the pain awwy and stand guardian of your dreams at night but until then I'm sitting playing your laugh like a broken record so I'd never forget it , so I'd never forget you .

Not that I'd be able to even if I tried

Tell me more about it there, your fears, your nightmares and demons, I want to share your pain buck , your pain is my pain ever since you took your heart with you to the front lines and laid it vulnerable because that'd be the only explanation to my heartache.

I'm writing to you sitting on nails and daggers until I hear from you , Can't get my mind to do anything else, Can't worry or care about anything except you , so please once you can once you're safe write to me james write and make it long so long it's enough until the next one because getting enough of you was never and never will be something that I can manage to do .

Yours, truly and utterly yours

Y/n

He felt warm, the winter is no longer there and it's spring now , it's the only way there could be butterflies and he felt them all too well, he grabbed his pen Can't leave the pretty dame all worried now can we ?

My dearest, y/n

how much I'm wishing to hold ya right now, to melt your beautiful body with mine and to tangle our desperate souls with each other you can't even imagine sweetheart it's all that I think about everything pretty here is you and you are everything pretty.

I'm sorry I couldn't write to ya sooner it's been shitty awful and once I got back I got called into the lieutenant office, nothing that pretty head of yours needs to worry about ya officially are the girl of a sergeant

Sergeant Barner's got a ring , I'm still not planning on telling ya about the stuff in here - the bad ones at least which is the most of it - and I still want ya away from those terror speaking radios only music and laughing and everything good should get to those ears of your , and I don't want you biting those nails

I'm sorry about Daniel and bonnie , things like that really stop my heart love because what if it was me ? I don't want to leave knowing I would hurt you, that's your plan eh? To make me determined to come back to ya , well i gotta tell ya you don't need one sweetheart, I'm coming back and hearing your stop-all-of-the-wars laughter

Are you laughing enough doll? Are ya smiling the same way that I left ya to be? I hope to god you are because I can deal with nightmares and bombs and death but not with a world without your smile or laugh, you gotta guard your happiness sweetheart, for me, and don't let this war steal it or why the hell am I fighting for ?

How about food ? Ya eating well? And pancakes don't count sugar, please eat well I'm dying here not being able to check up on ya , to protect ya from All the guys I know were waiting for my departure to sneak up on ya n try n snatch ya , i know there's a lot cause I got the prettiest dame in Brooklyn, hell in the whole of New York.

Give em the cold shoulder sweets , be rude and bitchy - sorry but yeah give to em , men sometimes don't understand "no" steve got into enough fights about that for me to be burning here , speaking of the little rascal gemme a realistic check up on em please and give ma and Becca my dearest regards, keep each other save while I can't please.

I can't fit everything that I have to say to ya in a million letters but this 's all I can do for now , but don't hold back on me my darlin not one bit , send me anything 'n everything ya got happening there I'll be waiting for ya ' on needles n daggers ' .

yours faithfully sergeant James Barnes

Hey, it's my first time writing something I wrote it in a hurry so there might be a few mistakes here n there also english isn't my first language, feel free to point out any mistakes and tell me if you'd like for me to write more of this

( also someone teach me how to tag )

#bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x reader #james bucky barnes #40's bucky #bucky x reader #bucky angst #bucky fluff #james bucky buchanan barnes #james barnes x reader #marvel #captain america #fluff #angst #letters #ww2 #soldier bucky #winter soldier #sebastian stan #Spotify

[bird-slayer-brainrot]

Soldier On, Come Down - Chpt. 2. - - Ineffable Husbands WW2 au human!Crowley angel!Aziraphale angst multi-chapter

There was a knock on the door of the bookshop.

Azirphale looked up from his novel, sighing, and rose from his comfortable chair to answer it. Through the small window in the door, Aziraphale spotted a young, bespectacled woman frowning as she raised her fist to rap on the door again. Aziraphale hastily opened it. Aziraphale was about to tell her that the bookshop was not open, and to come again another time, before she pushed the door open, crowding Aziraphale, and marched uninvited into the bookshop.

Aziraphale watched in shock as the young woman crossed her arms.

“What are you?” she said in an American accent. She was looking at Aziraphale with a cross expression on her face and Aziraphale, who had no idea what was happening or why this strange, bossy, brightly dressed American was in his closed bookshop, just stared at her. Azirphale would have laughed if he wasn’t so confused. Out of all the things she had been expecting him to say, it wasn’t that. She was a human.

“I’m sorry.” Aziraphale said in his politest customer-service tone. The young girl looked like she was having none of it. “Whatever do you mean?”

“I can sense it.” She scrunched up her nose, and gestured around the place with her hands. ”You don’t feel human.”

The gravity of the situation finally seemed to set in. It was possible for the girl to have minor psychic capabilities. Possible, and highly, highly inconvenient. “My, dear,” Aziraphale tried to interrupt her. This was not how he had expected his day to go.

“I saw you. You healed my uncle and then you left. I saw the entire thing.”

Aziraphale froze.

“Don’t even think about it.” She stated firmly. Aziraphale, who had been thinking about erasing this whole encounter and the events before (especially that part) from her mind and setting her on her way, immediately stopped considering the possibility of getting out of this easily.

He also, admittedly, was slightly impressed. The human was bold, demanding Aziraphale to pay attention. She stood in her bright red dress, frowning, looking wholly out of place in Aziraphale’s beige and brown bookshop.

“So are you going to explain?”

Aziraphale sighed.

Her name was Anathema Device. Annie, she had insisted, for short. She wanted to know everything. This strange human girl had somehow managed not only to figure out that her uncle’s recovery was… divinely inspired. Not only that, but she had also somehow tracked Aziraphale back to his bookshop, despite the numerous miracles in place that should have made that impossible. Should have.

“It wasn’t easy.” She admitted over a second cup of tea. “I almost had trouble trying to re-locate it again today.”

Aziraphale nodded with understanding. Annie was indeed a human, and a self-proclaimed ‘occultist’. She was definitely a character.

She seemed to understand that the half-explanations Aziraphale offered were all she could reasonably expect to get out of the bookseller. What she really wanted to know was if there would be any lasting effects on her uncle – whose name was Crowley – and seemed pleased to know that he would be fine.

Aziraphale smiled as the young woman shrugged on her coat. By now, he figured erasing her mind would be a pointless endeavour. She waved at him as she exited the bookshop, and Aziraphale’s heart stopped when he saw a flash of red-hair on the pavement outside his bookshop.

*

Anathema watched as the white-haired man crouched down. It was hard to miss it, he stuck out like a sore thumb.

She had been running late to meet Crowley. Her conversation with Newt had drawn out. They had been arguing about the affluence of the Bronte sisters in America, in which Newt had insisted that, in his semester abroad in America (New York), he had heard not one person mention the famous literary sisters. Anathema had argued that Newt likely wasn’t hanging around interesting enough people, which seemed to shut him up about the whole thing.

She had hurried to The Dirty Donkey, which had fortunately not been too far from where she’d met Newt. She hoped Crowley hadn’t been waiting too long for her.

The stranger was crouched over a body. He seemed to flutter his hands suddenly, which Anathema found strange. Then, she felt it.

When he left, walking quickly, quietly down the not-empty street, Anathema hurried over to where the man had been. Her heart nearly stopped when she saw an unconscious Crowley,

*

Aziraphale couldn’t help the need that seized over him to make sure Crowley was alright. He was an angel, and it was his duty to guide and to help humankind. Checking in on the gentlemen from the alley was only polite. His duty, it was his duty.

Aziraphale decided to walk the mile to the bar he knew the human frequented from his conversation with his niece. Turns out, they lived near the bar, and were meant to have dinner the night Crowley was attacked.

As Aziraphale approached the bar, he paused, suddenly embarrassed with what he was doing. In all likelihood, he wasn’t even there and Aziraphale was just being foolish for hoping he’d see him there. 

Aziraphale willed his legs to work, and entered the bar

His long legs crowded below the low and worn bar table. He seemed to be waiting for someone, probably Anathema.

“Hello.” Aziraphale greeted him nervously. He had stopped a foot short of the table, not wanting to intrude just in case suspected person suddenly showed up.

Crowley looked up at the sound of a voice. The glimmer of recognition clear in his eyes.

“It’s you.” He stated. Aziraphale nodded. So much for the checking up on him, he could barely formulate a sentence.

“Please, sit.” Crowley announced. Aziraphale’s eyes widened at him, but the human man gestured to the seat opposite him. Wordlessly, Aziraphale obliged.

He was back to wearing his glasses, and they did well to hiding some of the deep purple bruise Crowley was sporting. He looked, for the most part, unaffected by what had occurred the night before. This was good, excellent. Aziraphale had come here. He had done what he had meant to do.

Crowley was watching him. Aziraphale suddenly wished for the privacy sunglasses would afford him. Crowley made a gesture to the worker, and, after asking what Aziraphale wanted (“Wine. Red.” Aziraphale had finally given in when Crowley insisted he buy his companion a drink.) ordered. When the barmaid left, he turned back to Aziraphale, and spoke.

*

Crowley had woken at midday to what was possibly the worst hangover he had ever had the misfortune to experience.

There was a noise from beside him. Crowley pulled himself up slowly, his arms weak with sleep. Anathema was there in a moment. She was saying something, but his head was pounding relentlessly. A cold glass of water was thrust in his hand. Crowley drank from it.

“Are you feeling better?” she asked softly. Crowley made a sound, and handed her back the empty glass. She was still watching him nervously. He would ask later what happened, but he needed to sleep.

*

Crowley heard the whole strange tale, trying his best not to interrupts. Anathema was almost bouncing with excitement.

But when she had told her uncle in no uncertain terms to expect the blond gentlemen at the bar that evening (her intuition, she told him), he argued. It was ridiculous, all of it. Crowley had known Anathema had a power of sorts, though he did not fully understand the scope of it, and she was desperate to have the answers. Crowley was her unwilling accomplice.

(Though it wasn’t a small part of him that was curious. Besides, it was only good manners to thank the man who had saved your life.)

 So Anathema had insisted on it, and Crowley found himself that evening sitting across from the most intriguing gentlemen he had ever seen.

*

“I was telling Anathema about this book of prophecies I’ve been trying to locate for the best part of fifteen years, and Anathema looks me straight in the eye and tells me she has a copy!”

Crowley snorted out a laugh that was probably too loud, as Aziraphale chuckled at the tale.

They had been sitting at the table for a while, by this point, and were multiple wine bottles deep into their discussion. Crowley had learnt that the man, whose name was Aziraphale, loved books. Crowley admittedly knew little about books, or prophecies, but found himself rapt by Aziraphale’s musings.

He had done this for Anathema, meeting with the gentlemen. But Crowley found himself actually enjoying the conversation, and Aziraphale hardly seemed deterred by Crowley’s stoic manner. It was nice, having a conversation with someone who made it feel like talking to him was the most natural thing in the world. Even if Aziraphale lead the conversation, Crowley hardly wanted to leave the conversation. He couldn’t remember the last time talking was nice.  

“Oh dear, I’ve held you too long.” Aziraphale suddenly exclaimed. It was true. Crowley looked around, just noticing the empty chairs and tables. Aziraphale moved to stand clumsily. Crowley suddenly felt the urge to ask him to stay.

“Thank you, again.” Was what he said instead. Aziraphale looked at him anxiously, and gave him a small smile before hurrying out the door.

It was strange, but Crowley had done his duty and thanked the man. He picked up his hat, and stood up to go.

(Chapter two! I wanted to do more this chapter but the past week has been full with uni kicking in (ahhhhh), my birthday (19, i feel old) and me suddenly getting sick today which has led to me being bedridden. Either way, I'll aim to have chapter three up earlier on Friday next week. Stay hydrated xX)

#ineffable husbands #neil gaimen #good omens #david tennant #michael sheen #aziraphale #crowley #my writing #writing #creative writing #fanfiction #fanfiction writing #aziracrow #aziraphale x crowley #anthony j crowley #human!crowley #angel!aziraphale #ww2 fiction #ww2 au #england ww2 #angst #romance

[steam-powered-chaos]

War: Chapter 3 of Data’s Backstory

(WARNING: This chapter has a graphic description of death and the horrors of war, please read at your own risk)

Data hadn’t found many things to hate in their short life, only the rough sound of their gears spinning, their mother’s gasps as she struggled to go up the stairs of her workshop, and war. They hated the war. It was loud, and frightening, and mud got into their circuits.

But the worst thing about the war was the fact that their mother was there, enlisted to fight because of the tiny ‘M’ on her birth certificate. A tiny, meaningless letter which put her in harm’s way. And they weren’t even allowed to sleep in the same quarters as her! Forced to sleep with the other fellow robots, the very inspirations for Data’s own creation, yet they didn’t feel like talking to their automaton cousins, only watching silently out the window.

Then, the very worst part of war came, whilst watching just out of the trenches at no-mans-land, they saw a familiar tangle of hair. Mother

They ignored their orders to stop, running out of the trench into enemy fire, scooping their mother into their arms gently, holding them close to their chest. Her face was a still mask of horror and pain, her chest soaked in blood that could have only been her own, blood that was no longer flowing. They held their mother close, the scientist, their dearest Annabelle, ignoring the whistle, the shout and only looking up to see the missile hurtling towards them. Data did nothing, except fling themselves over their mother’s body, trying to protect her from more harm.

It was all futile in the end.

And The Jon watched an arm fly past his optics, an arm that had a golden hue.

~END~

#spg #steam powered giraffe #fanbot #Fanfiction #Tw: death #Tw: war #tw: ww2 #tw: wwii

[ships-to-sail]

And just like that, here we are again!

It is a truth universally admired that in every fandom I enter sincerely, I will begin to contemplate a WW2 AU and at last, we've arrived at that inevitable day! And so:

“Welcome to Coney Island,” Nora says, looping her arm through Henry’s again and patting him on the hand gently when she sees the look on his face. “Isn’t it —” “ — bright,” he whispers, clearing his throat and then repeating himself, his voice stronger. “It’s so bright.” It’s the middle of the day and everywhere he looks he sees more electric light bulbs than he’s ever seen before. They outline the signs above alcove-sized shops and restaurants so big they seem to take up almost entire city blocks. They shout at Henry to try things like Nathan’s hot-dogs and new filterless camel cigarettes, scream at him that he’s in the home of the world’s fastest roller coasters, the longest scenic recreational train, wonders and marvels that all vie for his attention so energetically it sends a shiver along his arms.  “And you ain’t seen nothing yet,” June practically squeals as she loops through his other arm and starts marching him in the direction of a large wooden monstrosity, looming large along the thick-slatted boardwalk. The sign in front spells out CYCLONE in big swooping letters, and Henry swallows thickly, the first leaden drop of trepidation slithering down his spine.  And he knows, now, that he should have stopped it then. Should have found a way to beg off politely, but, well. He hadn’t, not then and not when they’d meandered their way through the cue, making small talk about the other attractions nearby and how often June and Nora made their way this far down the city. And not when he’d stepped behind Nora on a too-small wooden cart, taking his seat like nothing at all was amiss.  And so now, really, he has only himself to blame, head cradled in his hands and nothing in the world where it ought to be.  “I think I might need to lie down for a moment,” he says thickly, and the girls chuckle nervously, but that’s not what Henry hears.  What Henry hears, over their laughter, over the screams of the next round of victims on the coaster behind them, over the steady drum of waves in the distance, is a deep voice painted along the edges with warmth like a slow drip of honey. It’s not an accent, persay, but it’s a history, and it might be the most beautiful sound Henry has ever heard.  “Aw, shit Nor — what’d you do to the poor sod?!”

As always, I'm chomping at the bit to see what all y'all are working on, so PLEASE feel free to take the open tag, and if you do make sure to tag me so I can see it! Otherwise, tags are below the cut!

@dumbpeachjuice @cheesecurdsgravyandfries @orchidscript @everwitch-magiks @happiness-of-the-pursuit @indomitable-love @celaestis1 @cricketnationrise @rmd-writes @inexplicablymine @welcometololaland @kiwiana-writes @clottedcreamfudge @lilythesilly @sparklepocalypse @nontoxic-writes @tintagel-or-cockleshells @hgejfmw-hgejhsf

#red white & royal blue #rwrb #fanfiction #six sentence sunday #bugle boy of company b #ww2 AU

[mamirhodessxox]

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