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#military au
journen · 10 months
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CWRB - Team #10
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Hey guys! This was my piece for the @codywanreversebang event. :)
Military au!! Helicopter pilot Obi and door gunner Cody. I was fortunate enough to be paired with the amazingly talented writers @bitwhizzle and @crownprincecody . Check out their fics here, and here, respectively. Really - their stories did my art way more justice than it deserved, and i couldn’t recommend more you give them a read!
Thank you both for working with me!! 🥺 It was a pleasure!
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pogkorichanart · 5 months
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sukuna smut piece is on rendering stage, maybe will finish it by next week!! this time i also draw a simple backgroud!! (just try to show more atmosphere they are fucking in the office lol:3 i'm not really good at painting background but it's good that i try yipee!!
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kucyash · 5 months
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Pov: Kushya no longer had strength to go on. Ren had to persuade him.
(Lol remembered that military AU and thought of making lil comics)
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jove999 · 10 months
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This is a very self indulgent project I’ve drawn with my friends with the only purpose of ‘I want to see a bunch of hot women in uniforms’ Plz don’t say anything about errors or mistakes 😂
You can find more art under the tag ‘ military au ’ in my blog (You can see under there👇)
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thejessc0de · 9 months
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military AU Choso
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cherryredstars · 8 months
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CHERRYYY!! OMG LOOK
so I found this silly little tiktok while I was scrolling and...
https://www.tiktok.com/@__av.enue/video/7263884206076448001
I just wanted to ask if you could write something based on that?? 🤭
Idk much about writing so I'll just leave the rest to you and give you that
Thank you and have a good day/night!! :D
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Warnings: Military AU, Talks of Death, Mentions of Abandonment, Slight Mentions with gn!reader
Summary: What if Miguel joined the military?
A/N: That tik tok is so!!!!!! I loved it!!! Made it more military than COD based because I didn’t want to steal those ideas!
Word Count: 1.1K (Edited)
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Miguel never wanted to join the military. Gabriel was the one who had enlisted, and he loved it. He would come to visit Miguel while on leave and tell his big brother about his war stories and comrades. He would gush about the dreams he had to be part of a more elite squad and have a higher position. Gabriel would constantly hint at Miguel that he would be a great fit for the military with his love for rules and his large physique. Miguel would always brush it off, more content in his current work as a geneticist. 
The day he had woken up to a knock on his door will always haunt him. He was dressed in nothing but basketball shorts, hair still messy from sleep when he opened the door to find two dressed soldiers at his doorstep. They held grim, stoic expressions as a folded flag rested in their arms. Miguel’s grip on the doorknob tightened as they recited the rehearsed lines spoken when they had to report a death to a family. Miguel had tuned them out, staring past them until their mouths stopped moving. He wordlessly took the flag from them and closed the door with a nod. Later that night, Miguel drank an entire bottle of bourbon in the dark of his living room, furniture and objects shattered on the floor around him. 
A few weeks later, Miguel enlisted for the same branch Gabriel was in. He had finished boot camp at the top of his platoon, earning him an E-3 rank. Right after, he had started his AIT, choosing to study as a specialist for nuclear, chemical, and biological threats. With his former science background, he was able to do well. After graduation, he got a few days of break before he was assigned to a unit. 
It was slow for him to make friends, more focused on trying to work his way up and complete his brother’s goals. But eventually, he was able to warm up the slightest bit and found camaraderie among his fellow soldiers. 
It was hard for him to see some of his friends die in the field. No matter how many times it happened, it never got easier for him to deal with it. Sometimes, he questioned why Gabriel would want to live a life like this, why Miguel even bothered to make friends with people who are more destined to die than to live. But, the longer he stayed in the military the more he realized that no one wants to actually end up dead. That, the thought of throwing your life away gets easier when you know you aren’t dying alone. That, if you do end up dying, there will be people who hold onto your memory. Someone who will hold the pain for you and tell your story. He hopes someone shares his story in the same way he shares Gabriel’s when he dies. 
During one of his leaves, he had a drunken one night stand. He forgets about it, thinking nothing of it as he leaves for duty again. It only comes to bite him in the ass when he returns on leave again, finding out he got her pregnant. He doesn’t want kids. Not when he’s in the military and he spends more time on duty than in his own home.  How was he supposed to be a father if he’s forced to be a soldier first? What’s even worse, once the baby is born (a daughter he affectionately names Gabriella after his brother), her mother ups and leaves. He had no idea what to do, a now single father who won’t be able to be there during the crucial years of his daughter’s life. He ends up letting a military friend’s wife take care of her when he has to leave for duty, he later hires a nanny once Gabriella gets older. 
During another one of his leaves, he meets you. Between the military and taking care of his daughter, he finds little room for you at first. But eventually, a date happens. And that turns into more dates until you’re living in his home taking care of his daughter while he’s away. It brings him the greatest amount of joy when he comes back home, and among the civilian families, you and Gabriella stand waving excitedly for him. 
Both of his dog tags stay at home. The first tag, he had given to Gabriella to hold on to when she was younger. He had held on to the other one before he had given it to you. He has to hide his smile every time he looks towards the dining room table to see you and Gabriella, eating happily with matching tags around your necks. In return, a folded and sun damaged photo of Gabriella and you are tucked into his breast pocket, right over his heart. 
After having Gabriella and dating you, his fear of dying has increased. It pains him to think he would leave behind the two greatest people the world has ever gifted him with. The thought of you or Gabriella opening the door, just like he did years ago, to find someone holding a flag out as a shitty apology haunts him. In his nightmares, Gabriella hears the knock and opens the door. You come walking behind her, scolding her for opening the door for strangers. But, the words turn into sobs as two men (the same ones that showed up at his door for Gabriel) give you the same death speech and hand you a blood-stained flag. His dream always ends with Gabriella asking, “Do you think they’re Papa’s friends? Maybe they know when he’s coming home.”
Despite his fear, he always makes it home. He gets achievements and awards for his military work. He gets promoted to higher ranks, becomes part of that elite squad Gabriel always talked about. Gets the title that should have been Gabriel’s instead of Miguel’s.
He stays in the military for the full 20 years that are required if he wants retirement benefits. When those twenty years are up, he happily goes home to the both of you, knowing the threats of not coming home are gone. He spends the rest of his life working as a geneticist again, coming home to the loves of his life at the same time every day. 
Every year, on the day those soldiers come to Miguel’s door, he goes down to visit Gabriel’s grave. He sets down a fresh bouquet of flowers and sits there catching his brother up on what he missed since his last visit. And each year, Miguel thanks Gabriel for the family he found because of his years in the military. He thanks Gabriel for being the reason he now has you and Gabriella waiting for him at home. When he leaves the cemetery, he always has his hands shoved in his pockets, clutching onto a pair of dog tags that have his last name engraved on them, but aren’t his.
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I apologize if I used any terms wrong or if things aren’t accurate. Despite coming from a military family, I have no idea what I’m talking about and everything was creative liberty or looked up.
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wheredidhiseyebrowsgo · 9 months
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Hi! Hopre youre fine and all! Can you give me som military fics like Squared Away? Where no real countries are involve but they are fighting monsters or something? Thanks <3
Sure!
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Squared Away by Suaine
(1/1 I 15,809 I Teen I Sterek)
Alpha LT Derek Hale gets a promotion, a pack, and a mission. Stiles is a complication.
***
We Fight Monsters Together by scarlettletterr
(1/1 I 11,555 I Explicit I Sterek)
Derek Hale doesn't trust humans anymore and is determined to pilot his family’s mecha alone. Too bad he doesn't get a choice when he's paired up with the brightest most sarcastic human mind to ever come out of Beacon Hills in the form of Stiles Stilinski.
Second Galaxy to the Right and Straight On Til Morning by spurklie
(1/1 I 16,679 I Explicit I Sterek)
Stiles is reading reports on his tablet and drinking from a bottle of water in the base mess hall when he realises there is someone standing at his table. Dragging his eyes up from the calculations, he chokes on his water and then spits some all over Derek, who barely flinches.
Ultra Violet by ElisAttack
(3/3 I 16,836 I Teen I Sterek)
"There's no way he's a quarian. Least of all the quarian prince we're supposed to be escorting." Erica whines, and Derek wonders why he named her his staff lieutenant, she has no tact whatsoever.
"I'm sorry, but you must be a level 4 friend to unlock my tragic back-story." The prince jokes. "And call me Stiles, even I can't pronounce my actual name."
Or the one where Derek and his crew are assigned to be the glorified babysitter of an alien prince, and everything is not as it seems.
Triton's Folly by Kaye_Fraser, S3anchaidh
(8/8 I 46,185 I Teen I Sterek)
As an officer in the United Earth Alliance, Major Derek Hale understands the order of things and his place in the world. Yet, a decade of war and a lifetime of dedicated service have taken its toll. The only thing that has kept him sane all these years is the video logs of a scientist he’d found years ago, buried in the rubble of a research station on Callisto. He knows that the man in the videos – Stiles – is long gone, lost to the vastness of space, but to Derek, he’s alive. In fact, he thinks he has fallen half in love with the boundless energy and bright-eyed optimism of the image he sees on his screen. Then, everything changes when a fateful mission strands him on the surface of a desolate moon … and brings him face-to-face with a man he had only ever dreamed of meeting.
Relationships That Start Under Intense Circumstances by seraphina_snape
(1/1 I 59,448 I Explicit I Sterek)
In a world where werewolves are a normal part of life and the Argents have turned from being hunters into leading one of the biggest pro-wolf organizations in the US, Stiles is the newly promoted assistant head of the Argent Weapons International R&D department. When he uncovers a conspiracy and finds evidence of an anti-werewolf movement that spreads into the highest positions at AWI, he knows he must do what he can to stop Kate and Gerard Argent from destroying what the rest of the Argents (and the rest of the world) have worked for so hard.
Things get a little complicated when Kate and Gerard turn the tables on Stiles and accuse him of treason and espionage. On the run and with killers on his tail to shut him up, Stiles has to find a way to stop the release of a dangerous product, prove his innocence and find a way to implicate Kate and Gerard in the conspiracy. With his dad, Scott and Allison in danger from Kate and Gerard, Stiles is incredibly grateful when he meets Derek Hale who promptly saves his life. But it soon becomes clear that Derek is hiding something that could be the undoing of Stiles and everything he's trying to do.
Specialized Technical Intelligence and Logistics for Earth and Space (S.T.I.L.E.S) by Yiichi
(10/10 I 73,419 I Not Rated I Sterek)
“What the hell kind of a name is Stiles?” he asked.
“You know, a series of sounds spoken in a particular sequence that represent my identity, primarily, referring to me?“ the AI – Stiles – answered cheekily, crossing his own arms in front of his chest, mirroring Derek’s position.
“Ooh, this one’s feisty,” Peter smirked.
War Crimes by loserchic
(69/69 I 81,840 I Mature I Sterek)
In a fantastical military state, Stiles, an orphaned nobody, street smart omega was rescued as a child by war hero alpha, Commander Derek Hale. Six years later, Stiles still maintains an obsession with taking care of himself and a blatant mistrust of alphas. Stiles becomes the first omega to be accepted into elite training with the Black Wolves, the military's special operations force. Derek has always intended to mate with Stiles and is furious at the idea of him entering training. However, Stiles' guardians only agree to allow Derek to mate with Stiles if he allows Stiles to attempt Black Wolves' training. Derek becomes Stiles' commanding officer and the war between them begins. Also a lot of fraternization.
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czyzx · 12 days
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Here is my stupid Army AU.
Wyll: The high speed Lieutenant and platoon leader. Professional cat wrangler. Younger and less experienced than all of this NCOs but still in charge. Respected for his rank, and because he lets the guys go home when work is done. Do not trust him with the map.
Karlach: the 11B (Infantry) Platoon Sergeant. Has seen the worst shit imaginable. Is an absolute hardass because she cares about keeping people alive. Laments that deployment is easier than garrison life. Probably has a bronze star. Former Drill Sergeant. Has already finished her first workout before first formation.
Shadowheart: 68W (Medic) Staff Sergeant. She will tighten the torniquete all the way down in training scenarios. Threatens people with ass IVs if they don’t drink enough water. She will make this blood draw as painful or as painless as you want it to be. Can be bribed to let you sleep in the air conditioned medical tent.
Lae’zel: Staff Sergeant. Marine turned Soldier. Has an air assault badge and Ranger tab. The bane of Privates everywhere. She will burn your entire house down if you are 30 seconds late for your guard shift. Not afraid to correct the Company Commander.
Astarion: Specialist 92Y (Supply) . If you know, you know. Bribes Shadowheart into letting him sleep in the med tent.
Gale: I went back-and-forth on where to put this guy. I think he’s detached from division artillery. He is the crusty old Seargent First Class who knows everything there is to know about indirect fires. He has been on profile for the past 15 years. Everything bad that has ever happened to him is his ex-wife’s fault. Doesn’t go to formation
Bonus:
Mizora: the stripper from Gate 2.
Cazador: the used car dealer from Gate 1.
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Big Sky Eyes*
Chapter Thirteen
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Master List |  Bucky Barnes Master List  |  Series Master List
Previous Chapter
Pairing: Cowboy!Bucky Barnes x Disabled!OFC Maybe Cole
A/N: Thank you @pansexual-maniac for the coffee request! Sorry it took all month to get to!
Warnings: smut, angst, violence
**I do not tag. **To be notified of updates and new works, subscribe to me or the story on AO3 for email notification, or follow the library blog @tilltheendwilliwrite-library  with notifications turned on so you’re not missing out. An account is required to access my work on AO3. For more information on how to get your FREE AO3 account, see this post.
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fatuifucker · 2 years
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GENERAL XIAO WOULD BE SO HOT FOAMING AT THE MOUTH I THOUGHT OF THIS TOO OMEGEE
-😼
[cw: smut, military au, power imbalance, masturbation, stuff with underwear idk what to call it djdhdj, unintentional voyeurism, office sex, object insertion, whipping]
TAGS = @zen-daydreams, @edenialucas, @urcatbf, @nejibot, @honeyjetcoaster, @ventriloquistz (ik it's not an actual fic but it's too hot come on also tagging @numi-x bc I kinda wrote this with you in mind)
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General Alatus is a mysterious one. You respect him. You admire him. You crave for him. You know you shouldn't feel this way. But that cold amber gaze that scrutinizes your figure as he examines you from head to toe makes you shiver. When he addresses you in that low gravelly voice, oh, you really can't blame yourself. War is cruel. And your desires may be one of your only outlets from the daily battlefield of bloodshed and death.
But perhaps you should have been more careful. Maybe you should have checked if your door was locked in case any of the inspectors would accidentally peek into your nightly activities. Maybe you should have bitten on a pillow or your bed sheets so no one would hear you moaning his name; moaning your general's name. But your fantasies are just so addicting.
You fantasize about being nervous. Nervous to be touching yourself so openly in front of your own superior. Nervous to be scrutinized by your general's hot amber eyes as he stares at your crotch where you're touching yourself so lewdly, all with an impassive look on his face. He wouldn't even let you take your underwear off. And when you do cum, he would order you to take your underwear and pass it to him where he shoves it in one of his pants pockets and dismisses you, leaving you confused and dumbfounded.
He would order you back into his office the next day, where you notice his demeanor to have undergone a drastic shift. His gaze would be dark and heavy with lust as he places your underwear from yesterday on the table. Your soiled underwear. Not just from you but from his own fluids.
"Look at what you have done to me, soldier." General Alatus wheezes, lifting your undergarment to his nose and inhaling it, not breaking eye contact with you. “So undisciplined. It seems I need to train you harder if you have any hopes on becoming a soldier worthy of serving this nation.”
In trainings, he is always harsh and this wouldn’t be an exception. Many of the generals carry around a riding crop to discipline the unruly soldiers. You have never seen General Alatus carry one on his person but oh gosh you hope he has one. Just imagining him cumming on the end of his crop, soaking it in his fluids before inserting it into your hole and then whipping you with it until he leaves read marks all over your ass <3 Oh and when he does fuck you, he would be relentless and rough, stretching and fucking your whole until you’re just screaming “Sir, yes, sir!” or “Yes, General Alatus!”
Those are the thoughts that go through your head as you cum all over your fingers in bed. Sighing in relief, you leave your room to clean yourself in the bathroom, only to see the man you were fantasizing about in the hallway.
“General Alatus?”
He nearly jumps at the sound of your voice, swiftly turning around and coughing. “Oh, it’s you…”
Is he...blushing?
“Are you the one doing the checks today, sir?”
“That is correct.” He nods, his eyes uncharacteristically avoiding yours. “I will give you time to clean yourself. But you need to be back in your room in five minutes. Understood?”
How did he…wait, is he hard?! Did he–
“O-oh…y-yes, sir…”
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highqueenofelfhame · 1 year
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a/n: okay so chapter three of this might be up before ten of ciwyw simply because i'm excited about it and it's already like halfway done. i'm sorry if this is disappointing news BUT i promise it's a really really good chapter with delicious content. love u, thank you for reading <3
rowaelin // 5.6k words // skoh masterlist // masterlist
“I wish I could tell you guys about this bullshit, but it’s fucking classified,” Aelin hissed into the cell phone she had sandwiched between her ear and shoulder. To their credit, Elide and Lysandra tried to disguise their laughter on the other end, but it came back muffled all the same. The two were drunk on a beach somewhere in Ellywe, and it showed.
 Everyone knew that Aelin joining the Cadre would be a disaster one way or another. When the idea was proposed to her, she turned it down. Three different times. The bad blood with Rowan flowed so deep that she didn’t care about an increase in pay or the less boring missions that came along with it. Truthfully, she would rather be lost in the Staghorns somewhere with Aedion’s unit or back in the desert with the one that showed up to take over for the Cadre. 
 Yet when Darrow approached her with the idea a fourth time, stressing how much they needed an extra person, she caved. The claims that she was the only person fit for the job had gone to her head a little bit, and it was biting her in the ass. He had even brought in her Uncle Gavriel to talk to her about going. The bastard knew that it would sway her, and it had worked. Now that this mission required them to be married, she was pretty sure it had been in the works for a little longer than they knew, and convincing Aelin to join them was the final piece of the puzzle. 
 Currently, she was quickly washing her hands in a bathroom at the Rifthold International Airport. The flight had been sixteen hours, and she was desperate for a bath that didn’t require body wipes to make her smell decent. The boys were probably waiting for her, but she didn’t care. Rare was it that she could use her personal phone to call her friends, and godsdammit, she was going to take advantage.
 “Is he still an ass?” Lysandra asked as Aelin ripped a few paper towels from the dispenser to dry her hands.
 “Of course he is. He has the nerve to act like he’s the one that was scorned! As if I didn’t fight tooth and nail for our relationship to work until the physical and emotional distance was too much to deal with.” She huffed as she poked her bags with her boot, fingers pulling her braid over her shoulder just to have something to do with her hands.
“I mean, you have to come to some sort of truce to make it work,” Elide piped in, crunching sounds filling the space between words while she snacked. 
 “I know. Gods, I know. It’s just harder than I thought it would be.” Aelin sighed, her chest decompressing as several women scurried into and out of stalls around her. “I should go.”
 “Where are you, anyway?” Lys asked.
 “I can’t say, but I can allude that I’m closer to home.”
 “Can you get a normal job? You coming on vacations would be fun.” Elide’s sad-drunk tendencies were starting to peek through, making Aelin smile.
“If Rowan doesn’t kill me first, I might end my active-duty career as soon as possible after this shit is done.” It was only half a joke. Being this close to Rowan was already far more taxing than she imagined. If anything, she thought they might ignore each other and carry on with their jobs like responsible adults. Sure, she knew her old wounds were tender at best, but the explosive tension was slightly unexpected. 
 The three muttered their goodbyes as she hefted her bags onto her shoulders and filed out of the bathroom, immediately spotting Lorcan and Rowan’s heads towering over everyone else near the exit to baggage claim. Aelin forced her shoulders back and stood straight as she could. 
 Approaching Rowan was a battle of its own sort. She had to be ready for a fight constantly. There was just no way of telling if she was walking straight into the line of fire or not.
 ~*~
 The house they would be living in was beautiful. It was a large estate sitting on the cleaner side of the Avery River, nestled back in a little grove of oak trees. A large iron gate kept any outsiders from easily getting onto the property, but it was so far off any main road that they didn’t anticipate trespassers being much of a problem. 
 Not that it really mattered– every inch of the land surrounding the house was under twenty-four-seven surveillance that they could watch from inside. The day before, a tech team had come in to set up all the equipment they would need for quick and secure communication with their superiors. Though the equipment they used was always the best the Terrasen government had to offer, it was always a little more fun to use when stationed in a big city. 
 Though the house had six bedrooms, they quickly learned during the initial walk-through that three were being used for mission-related activities. One room comprised a large desk and about a dozen monitors for surveillance; another had enough desk space for all six of them with room to spare, and the third was primarily for communication. It was filled with phones and computers connected to a highly secure network that, in theory, was breach-proof. 
 That left three rooms for the six of them to divvy into, and Aelin tried to cut the corners of arguing with who was sleeping where by quickly voicing her own option. 
 “I’ll room with Fenrys. Lorcan and Rowan can share and–”
“No.” Rowan’s response was immediate and flat. A single eyebrow quirked up as she slowly pivoted on one heel to look at him. His eyes, however, were on Fenrys. It had been years, and apparently, their casual affection was still grating on his nerves like soft cheese. 
“No?” She questioned, arms folding over her chest. Rowan slid his gaze to her face as the others took a few casual steps away as if they would rather be anywhere but in the middle of their divorced parent’s fight.
“No.” The word was harder, more final this time. 
“Fine, you and me then?” She threw a hand in the air for sarcastic flair and laughed sardonically.  Surely he would drop his weapons and retreat with arms raised, but he didn’t. It surprised everyone in the room, herself more than the rest. 
“Fine.” Shock washed over her in a static wave, running across her body like an electrical current. Everything buzzed from her fingers to her toes as he told no one in particular, “We get the master.”
Nobody was going to disagree with his claim. The two of them needed as much space between them as possible. With all the tension and white-hot energy, they could hardly share a room for meetings, much less a bed. Mala must have boiled his brain to sludge during their stay in the desert. He clearly wasn’t thinking things through.
She was further surprised when he yanked both their bags off the floor where they’d dumped them upon entry and headed toward the north wing of the house. Aelin glanced at Lorcan, hoping he would have something to say on the matter, but he shrugged and grabbed his own bags, shouting that Vaughan was with him as he did. Fenrys, at least, looked as confused as she felt.
 “Have fun with… whatever the fuck that was,” Connall told her, the three remaining men collecting their bags from the floor. 
“You really put your foot in your mouth this time, didn’t you, babe?” Fen drawled, ruffling her hair and following his brother.
“You’re all traitors!” She called as they dispersed, leaving her to begrudgingly march toward the room Rowan had claimed for them. Their low chuckles followed her down the hall, and she was pretty fucking sure she even heard Lorcan laughing with them. 
 When she reached the master bedroom, she was pleasantly surprised at the size of it. A king-size bed was centered against one wall, each side with its own lamps and nightstands. The large bay window on the right side had a bench perfect for reading in if she ever found herself with downtime. There were two doors to the left of the bed. One led to a large bathroom with a shower and a huge bathtub that she would most definitely be soaking in soon. The other was a walk-in closet that rivaled the one she had at home. 
 It was also where she found Rowan.
 Each side of the closet had plenty of drawers and space for hanging clothes and a dozen or so cubbies scattered about. Rowan stood to one side, unpacking his clothes and placing them into drawers. She pretended she didn’t notice that he had chosen the left side– the same as when they lived together.
 Aelin followed suit, kneeling on the floor by her bag and dividing things amongst her drawers. Since they were in need of civilian attire for the mission, she would be going out to purchase new things sometime tomorrow before the real work began. For now, she just wanted a shower and a nap. 
Rowan had slipped out moments before she was finished. Once satisfied with her portion of the closet, she entered the bedroom to find him peering through the curtains, eyes scanning the backyard. He didn’t seem to notice her, or if he did, he chose to say nothing. Taking a deep breath, she wrapped her arms around her body and steeled herself for another fight.
 “Is it okay if I shower first?”
 “Yep.” His fingers released the curtain, and it slipped shut, the sheer fabric not doing much to shield them from the outside world. Aelin made a mental note to get some blackout curtains tomorrow, both for safety and to keep the early morning sun out when she had the luxury of sleeping past five am. 
 “Are you sure?” For once, she wasn’t pushing to get on his nerves. If he wanted the bathroom to himself first, she would allow it if it meant no verbal sparring.
 “I already said yes, Aelin.” The edge of his words was sharp and short as a brand-new dagger. So much for not fighting.
 “You don’t get to do this.” She blurted, fingers gripping her shirt tightly.
 “I don’t get to do what, exactly?” Rowan looked at her then, eyebrows slightly raised and shoulders tense. At his sides, his hands were rolling up into fists. 
“Be pissy about our sleeping arrangements when you’re the one that booted out my perfectly good option.”
 “You were doing it to fuck with me, and I’m not giving you the satisfaction,” he said calmly, taking up a casual fighting stance: feet shoulder-width apart, arms folded over his chest, muscles coiled and ready to strike.
 “I was doing it because I highly doubt the other three would want to catch me in any state of undress accidentally, and only me and Connall can handle Fenrys full time,” she shot back. Her fingernails dug into the skin beneath her shirt like they would sew her up if she fell apart. The tendons in Rowan’s neck were visible, hard lines. If she were closer, she would probably be able to see his pulse pounding against his skin.  “I don’t know why you think I’m just here to fuck up your life. I didn’t even want this job to begin with.”
 Hating that she was the first to retreat, she walked to the closet to gather what she would need for her shower. Footsteps followed her, stopping in the doorway as Rowan asked, “What is that supposed to mean?”
 “Which part?” Aelin plucked a pair of boring cotton underwear from the drawer. 
“That you didn’t want this job.” Selecting a pair of shorts and a t-shirt, she turned to face him with her facial expression calling him ten kinds of stupid.
“It means that I didn’t want this fucking job.” Maybe she drew out every word a little more slowly on purpose to needle beneath his skin. The feathering of his jaw said it worked.
“I understood that part.” He sounded frustrated, his fingernails white where they pressed into his biceps. “You didn’t ask for the transfer?”
 “I turned it down three times. In the last few weeks, Darrow was up my ass about it. Even had Uncle Gav try to convince me, so I caved. Did you think I asked for this to come rain a special kind of hell down on your head?” 
“I wouldn’t put past you,” he retorted, and something in her broke. Just a little bit. 
“Contrary to whatever bullshit you’ve made up about me to craft me into your villain, I was perfectly content to never see you again. I don’t want to work with you, I don’t want to share a single molecule of oxygen with you, and I don’t want to constantly be ready to fight with you at the drop of a hat. This isn’t what I wanted for my career or my personal life. I’m here because I took an oath to protect my country, and despite my multiple refusals, they wanted me here with this unit.” Aelin shoved past him, her shoulder ramming into his arms as she did. “Do us both a favor and get over yourself, Rowan. This self-centered bullshit is exactly why I fucking left you.”
Though she hadn’t meant to be quite so dramatic, the bathroom door slammed in his face when she closed it. The sickly feeling of guilt washed over her at the look on his face. That last hateful sentence wasn’t even supposed to be said out loud. Did she even mean it?
Aelin didn’t realize she was holding her breath until she finally heard his footsteps retreat from the room and a heavy exhale whooshed from her lungs.
~*~
“Aelin, I–” His hands reached for her, but she smacked them away hard enough that it stung his palms.
 “No, no, no. I told you a thousand times if you took another deployment, I was done. And there is just no–” Aelin let out a gasping sob, one hand on her heart and the other wrapped around her torso. Unable to stop himself, he tried to pull her to him. If he could just calm her down, it would be okay.
Before his fingers could even graze her skin, she stumbled backward. A gust of wind had rain blowing at him from behind. He wasn’t sure if his face was wet with tears from his eyes or the sky. 
 “Baby–” The back of Aelin’s wrist pressed to her mouth and did nothing to muffle the sob. Knowing he was the source of her pain had him wishing for a lightning strike. 
 “There is no coming back from this.” The words were almost carried away in the storm. Not once had he ever heard her speak so softly, so broken. Tears streamed down her cheeks and neck, soaking the collar of her t-shirt while she shook her head and pointed for him to leave with a shaky finger. Her other hand was still pushing her heart back into her chest. “There is no coming back.”
The front door slammed in his face and triggered a final fissure in his heart that had his heart and soul shattering into a million jagged pieces on the rain-soaked ground. 
A firm hand on his shoulder made him jerk forward, twisting on his heel. A soldier through and through, he started to go on the defensive. Just as he reached for his attacker, he realized it was Lorcan and dropped his hands, shaking his head to clear his mind of the memory.
 Lorcan’s eyebrows knit together in confusion as he said, “I said your name twice.” 
 “Sorry. What’s up?” Rowan hadn’t meant to be so wrapped up in his thoughts as he stood on the back porch. A mirror image of the gloomy gray sky reflected on the surface of the swimming pool. The sound of the door slamming in his face still echoed in his ears, but he didn’t know if it was the past or present that haunted him. Probably both. 
 “I want to go over what needs to be done this week,” Lorcan told him, nodding toward the house. Through the windows, he could see everyone lounging on the couches and chairs that made up the formal living room. Each of them held a folder; Aelin’s was in her lap, where she curled up in the corner of the couch. Deft fingers twined her damp hair into a braid over her shoulder. Lorcan’s eyes followed his gaze as he braced his hands on his hips. “Do you need to talk about it before we go in?” 
“I don’t know what there is to say.”
 “Look, I am by no means any sort of authority on relationships, but the fact that you two can barely be in the same room without starting a fight shows how deep it all goes. You sure as fuck aren’t over it–” Lorcan gave him a stern look when he opened his mouth to object, then continued, “And neither is she. You can both act like you don’t care, but you do. At some point, an olive branch needs to be extended one way or the other. Otherwise, it will stack up to messy mistakes in the field and you’ll both drag everyone else down with you. I can’t allow that. So find a truce. Wave your white flag if you fucking have to. Talk about it. Fuck it out. I don’t care. But don’t let it compromise the job.” 
 Rowan nodded, hands sliding into his pockets as he took a deep breath. All of those things were easier said than done. If they were ever going to talk it out, they would both have to come to some peace with the past and present. Right now, he wasn’t sure how to do that. His behavior had clearly torn into her with a jagged blade, the same way her leaving him did. Both had raw, gaping wounds that were still bloody from the battle. The time apart had done nothing to heal either of them. If anything, it made it worse. 
 There wasn’t ever supposed to be so much distance, time, or emotion stretched between them, to begin with. Rowan could strut around like he didn’t care all he wanted to, but he did care. Looking at her made it hard to breathe. 
 “Did you ever, at any point in your relationship, tell her about what happened to Lyria?” Lorcan asked, just as Rowan took a step toward the house. His teeth snapped together so hard that it hurt, narrowly missing a bite of his tongue. “Maybe start there.”
“I don’t think it would matter at this point.”
 “Not that I don’t think she’s a swaggering asshole ninety-nine percent of the time or anything–” Rowan snorted, looking back at Aelin through the window. She was looking back. “– But she isn’t a bitch. Not all the time, anyway.”
 Part of him wanted to throttle Lorcan for talking about her that way, but their personalities had always been mixing oil and water. Even still, Lorcan would never hold his personal relationship against her. She was far too good of an asset. 
 “Can I ask something of you?” Rowan inquired, restlessly scratching the back of his neck. His eyes didn’t leave Aelin’s, and she tilted her head curiously. Almost as if, despite their fight, she was trying to inquire if he was okay. 
 “Of course.” Rowan sidestepped out of view, not wanting her to read his lips as he looked at his commander. Lorcan leaned against the table that decorated the patio, an open and caring demeanor slipping into place. 
“If anything on this mission goes sideways, if it ever comes down to a split second when it has to be her or me… I don’t care if it’s a temporary thing where you come back for me later or we’re both bleeding out somewhere, whatever the situation is. If shit goes down and it’s her or me, you take her.” Green eyes bore fiercely into onyx ones. Lorcan’s eyes widened in surprise and something that looked a little like fear.  
“Rowan…” He wasn’t one to leave a man behind, but Rowan knew all too well that sometimes it became a necessary call to make. When forced with a split-second decision about who lived or died, the luxury of time to juggle your choices didn’t always exist. This oath would take the struggle out of it. 
 “Promise me that you will get her out first.” He hated the way his voice cracked like the fissures in his heart. Hated that he was prepared to fall to his knees and beg if it might save her life at any point in the future. Yet he knew that he would if Lorcan refused. The bad terms he and Aelin were on didn’t matter. Rowan would never forgive himself or his comrades if he woke up and something had happened to her. “Promise me, Lorcan.”
 He wished he could tell himself it was for selfish reasons. That he was asking to clear his conscience should it ever become a reality. Deep down, he knew it had nothing to do with that, though. It had nothing to do with guilt and everything to do with her and the wildfire of unresolved feelings that haunted his waking and sleeping hours. 
 Rowan tried to get over her. Attempting to lose himself through sex with other women had been a fruitless endeavor. No amount of boiling showers had made him feel clean, like any level of intimacy with someone that wasn’t Aelin left behind an oily residue he couldn’t wash away. After the third time, he quit trying. It felt too much like cheating on her, like betraying her, even if she had been the one to leave him. 
 He had followed her career over the last two and a half years. Though she had passed on another deployment when she thought he would too, months after the breakup, he heard she was back in it. Lorcan had passed him details of her missions, and Rowan had a mental list of every injury she had ever received. Nothing had been remotely close to life-threatening, but he felt every one of those wounds like they’d happened to him. It had been difficult not to follow up with her directly to see if she was okay, but she was better off without him. Of that, he was certain. 
Being part of the same unit, he would do whatever he could to protect her. It hadn’t surprised Lorcan when Rowan declared he would always choose her first the morning she arrived. The commander made him swear that it wouldn’t compromise any missions, and it wouldn’t. But for Rowan, if the choice were anyone else or Aelin, he would save Aelin first. Now he needed to be sure someone else would choose her over him. 
“Okay. I promise,” Lorcan finally swore, his eyes saying that he hoped for all the world it never came down to it.
When they made their way inside, there were two seats available. One was smack dab between Aelin and Fenrys; the other was an overstuffed chair near the window. Rowan knew for a fact that the two blondes had been sitting side by side moments earlier and knew that one or both of them had done this on purpose. They lived in a constant state of scheming and had been driving Rowan insane from the moment their friendship began.
Lorcan hijacked the chair, which left Rowan to drop onto the sofa between Bonnie and Clyde. He swore the commander was fighting off his smirk while settling into the chair away from the drama. Bastards. All of them were bastards. It was starting to feel like everyone had been part of a private meeting on the best ways to drive Rowan insane with Aelin around. 
“Here,” Aelin said softly, nudging his arm with a folder. Nodding his thanks, he flipped it open and began skimming the pages while Lorcan got into what the next few days would look like. Every breath he took was more shallow than it needed to be, but he would lose his mind if he inhaled deep enough to smell her jasmine shampoo. 
He tried to focus on Lorcan’s words, but sitting beside Aelin was a distraction in itself. The promise their commander had just made soothed a small part of his chest, even if he thought she would throttle him if she ever found out about it. The woman beside him was more than capable of taking care of herself, yes, but Rowan needed that security blanket to fall back on if things went to hell.
 Aelin nudged him with her elbow, and he blinked, looking into her quizzical gaze. It was strange to find a hint of concern hidden behind the brilliant band of gold around her iris. With a shake of his head, he looked at the folder in his lap and tuned his ears to Lorcan’s voice. Right. Now was definitely not the time to think about this. 
 They would start by surveilling the notorious Glass Castle. It was imperative they find out how easily the outside guards could be distracted and bribed. While they had inside contacts close to the prince working with them under extremely delicate conditions, they needed to see if anyone was willing to waver. Finding the weak links could lead to it all being over before an assassination attempt began.
 The Prince’s closest and really only friend was his captain of the guard. Through their contacts, he agreed to work with them on the castle’s blueprints and help them however he could. If everything went smoothly, nobody would die, lose their jobs, or be accused of treason, and in the process, their president would be safe from the fallout.
“We need to take passport photos in the morning, and someone is coming by tomorrow afternoon to stage some pictures of our Duke and Duchess over here.” Rowan and Aelin’s heads both snapped up at neck-breaking speed.
“What?” Rowan said, eyes darting to Aelin. There was no way in hell she would be okay with this.
“All of the royals in Fenharrow have websites,” she answered for Lorcan. “Do I get to wear a pretty gown?”
“You’ll wear whatever shows up, and you won’t give anybody any shit about it,” was the commander’s flat response. Aelin’s smoldering gaze told him she would do as she pleased, but her eyes wandered back down to the pages in her lap. If the wardrobe weren’t to her taste, they would surely hear about it no matter what Lorcan said.
“Box dye is going to absolutely ruin our hair.” Rowan didn’t know anything about that. According to his passport, he had blonde hair and brown eyes. Curiosity got the better of him, and he leaned a little toward Aelin to see what hers said. With a flick of her wrist, it was turned toward him so he could see better. Red hair, green eyes. Rowan had a hard time imagining it.
“Are you going to complain the whole time?” Lorcan snapped. Aelin, to her credit, grinned.
 “Maybe. It’s fun getting under everyone’s skin so easily.” 
It felt like a jab with one of the daggers she favored. A quick stab into his back, the twist of the blade as it sunk deeper. Rowan sat up straight and tried to keep from crumpling the papers in his hands.
It might not be an outright bloody war, but every vaguely altruistic word that left her mouth made him tenser than any gunfight ever did.
 ~*~
A book lay open upon the pillow in her lap, eyes skimming the pages when Rowan soundlessly opened the door and slipped into their room. He was clearly hoping she would be asleep when he came to bed to avoid any awkward interactions or heated arguments. Aelin was too tired for anything beyond a few pulled punches tonight and closed her book. The t-shirt he wore was pulled over his head in a single, fluid motion, and he slipped between the sheets. After placing her nightly read on the bedside table, she snuggled under the blankets. Rowan was on his back staring at the fan when she turned her light off. Aelin lay on her side, facing him straight on.
“This is… weird,” he admitted as the air deflated from his lungs in a deep sigh.
“Sleeping together or, however fake it may be, being married to me when you never wanted it in the first place?” Aelin wasn’t sure why flames kept spewing out of her mouth every time they spoke. Closure was what she was after, yet she knew it wouldn’t come this way. It was more of a defense mechanism than anything else.
“We aren’t doing this tonight, Aelin. I’m tired.” Rowan rolled onto his side, facing away from her, hand smacking at his pillow before he settled against it. 
Through the dim moonlight slipping through those sheer curtains, she could make out the scars on his back. Some she knew, others she didn’t. Without thinking, she reached out and touched one she didn’t recognize. Rowan’s inhale was sharp, shoulders expanding and muscles tightening beneath her fingers. As tense as he was, his body betrayed him in the form of goose flesh over his skin. 
“Rowan?” Aelin must have been imagining his jagged breaths. It sounded too much like shredding self-control to be real. 
“Yeah?”
“I’m sorry. For today, I’m sorry.” Doused in a burning tension, she traced her fingers over another pale scar on his back. Tears pricked her eyes over the featherlight touches she made, at the emotion that welled up in her throat. This sort of casual intimacy used to be second nature. Aelin hated that her fingers craved to touch more of him, all of him. They never thought about touching before; they just always were. It had once been necessary, vital even. Now he was a coiled asp ready to strike, waiting for the fighting words she couldn’t find. 
“Okay,” he finally whispered back on an exhale. 
“I didn’t mean to slam the door, either. I know you won’t believe me, but I–”
“I do believe you.” Her throat was suddenly tight as she swallowed, dropping her hand from his back. Sometime soon, she would ask how he got those new markings. Maybe Fenrys would have the answers if her cowardice won over and she couldn’t ask him herself.
“Okay,” she parroted, the word muffled by the blanket as she pulled it up and tucked her face into it. 
Seconds stretched into minutes before he rolled onto his back, head turning to face her. With her eyes more adjusted to the dark, she could tell he was looking at her. They didn’t say anything, just took each other in. It was the first quiet moment they’d shared since her arrival. Somehow, the heaviness of this moment was far more abundant than the times they were yelling.
“Were you talking about me when you said it’s fun to get under our skin?”
“I’ve always liked getting under your skin,” she teased, but he didn’t smile. Aelin’s own faltered, mouth twisted to the side as she considered it. Yes, she had. “It is fun but… I didn’t mean it quite how it sounded. I haven’t been picking fights with you the last few days for shits and giggles. I’m sure you aren’t doing it for that reason either.”
It’s what she wanted to believe, anyway. Perhaps it made her naive, but she knew Rowan. Even if they hated each other, they didn’t like causing the other unnecessary pain.
 “Why are we fighting then?” The bald vulnerability he gave had her mouth parting in surprise. Of all the ways she saw this first night going, a calm discussion was nowhere on the list. Murder definitely was, but this? 
 “I don’t think we know how to be around each other like this,” she said slowly. “We had moments of bickering when we first met, sure, but…” 
The words she wanted to say would strip her a little more bare than she wanted to be, yet she wasn’t ready to let the moment go. Rowan saw her hesitation and waited patiently, eyes scanning her face as though he could sneak into her mind and steal the thoughts for himself. Tomorrow the fires would rage again but for tonight? Tonight she would settle close to the truth without laying it all at his feet.
“But?” Aelin sighed and shook her head.
“We’ve always been intense,” she shrugged a shoulder. “Now that we aren’t in love, I guess it’s just going to be in the form of verbal sparring and screaming matches. Maybe a few physical blows during training.”
Aelin averted her eyes, slipping her fingers out from beneath the blanket to inspect her nails. It probably looked as stupid as it felt, considering she could hardly see, but Rowan didn’t call her on it. Nor did he point out how unlike her it was to balk from a conversation, yet here she was, being a coward and avoiding his gaze. It was a half-truth wrapped up in a teasing taunt at best and clearly not the answer he sought.
It wasn’t fair that he still had her tied up in so many knots. For years she paraded around, pretending she was over it and it didn’t matter anymore. Not being in love with Rowan was one of the biggest lies she’d ever told, one she whispered to herself every time she found him looking at her. It was a foolish, stupid mask she wore to hide the pain of the ugly, bleeding truth of everything. 
Rowan handled it better than she did, and it hurt more than she would ever admit. 
@elentiyawhitethorn @autumnbabylon @fancysludgeshoelamp  @wordsafterhours @live-the-fangirl-life @the-hospitality-of-knives @tangledraysofsunshine @readandlisten @westofmoon @rowanaelinn  @morganofthewildfire @writtenonreceipts @feynightlight @emster1622-blog @scarblx @thefaetrove @loveyatopluto @actuallybarb @peppermint-fae @the-devils-own @scottmcgivemeacall @livingmylifeforme  @wordsafterhours @foreverfallingforthestars @llyncooljones @emily-gsh @loosesimplicity @emilyrose111294  @charlizeed @aelinchocolatelover @cretaceous-therapod @sayosdreams @fireheart-violet @the-regal-warrior @backtobl4ck @shyvioletcat @bellasbookboyfriends @icantfindmychashma @swankii-art-teacher
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caitwritesao3 · 15 days
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Sneak peek?
“That doesn’t give you the right to disobey my orders!”
Jason sat forward on the chair a little more. “I think that’s what you're really mad about, Drake.”
“You always have to push back don’t you. You fucking insubordinate piece of shit!” Tim abruptly stood slamming both hands on the desk.
“Ah, so it is.” Jason chuckled, the sound cracking from the voice modifier. “You think you would’ve learned by now that I’m not going to just say ‘yes sir’ to every little thing.”
Tim ground his teeth, “I’m your superior officer, Hood! I not only expect you to fucking listen but when I say to fuckin’ jump the only response out of your god damn mouth should be you asking how fuckin’ high!”
Jason calmly rose to his feet causing Tim to crane his neck holding his head high as he held eye contact. Jason was nearly half a foot taller than Tim and weighed twice what he did. But Tim wasn’t going to back down, he wasn’t some green recruit or private. Red Hood didn’t scare him.
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sadviko-off · 1 month
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I tried a new style for drawing people ^ ^~
Catch the humanization of SV!
SV has vitiligo - a disorder of melanin metabolism in the skin.
WHAT DO YOU THINK ABOUT HIS HUMANIZATION!? >////<
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theresthesnitch · 1 year
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Coming to Attention
Happy birthday @r33sespieces! I hope you have a lovely day.
Sirius shook his head. “I’m sorry, Remus, but I can’t let you continue. It’s a risk to you and to your mates on the field.”
Remus bit his lip, looking like he might cry. “Please, sir. Is there anything I can do? I know I’m not cut out for this, but maybe I can do something else?”
“Something else?” Sirius raised an eyebrow at him. “Like what?”
“I don’t know, sir, but please.” Remus took a step closer, pleading look on his face. “I’ll do anything to stay.”
“Anything?” Sirius asked, eyebrow raised and a smirk on his lip. Remus inhaled sharply and his blush deepened.
~*~
Private Remus would do anything to stay in the army, and Lord Sirius just might have a task or two for him to do.
Read here on AO3.
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thepinklink · 8 months
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After some consideration, some of the boys’ ranks got switched around XD
Here they all are again, highest to lowest rank!
I also gave them all last names :)
Lieutenant Colonel Link “Time” Lonlon — Army
Captain Link “Captain” Wynner — Army
First Lieutenant Link “Sky” Skyner — Air Force
Sergeant Major of the Marine Corps Link “Legend” Rodland — Marines
Master Sergeant Link “Rancher” Lonson — Army
Master Sergeant Link “Four” Fourhand — Marines
Petty Officer First Class Link “Hyrule” Highlander — Navy
Petty Officer Second Class Link “Wind” Windham — Navy
Marine Corporal Link “Wild” Wilder — Marines
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Whumpril 2024 - Day 9 - Self-Doubt
Rex is still @cyberwhumper's boy and Vic still belongs to @bxtterflystxtches !! Vic also still has self-worth issues, oops c: This takes place in a fun little military au we have going on!
TWs: self-depreciation, self-worth issues, gun mention, military setting, nightmares, near death experiences referenced, magical exhaustion/overload mentioned
Click click click
They were at it again. Rex and Mariano were doing weapon maintenance. Victory's jaw tensed, looking back at his own gun. It didn't matter, he could still see them. He could see Mariano say something. He could see Rex laugh.
That made something in his gut twist.
It didn't matter. Mariano was Rex's spotter, they needed to do weapon maintenance together. He knew that. It didn't mean anything.
Click click click
It could mean everything. His own hands slowed and his eyes drifted back to the pair as he watched Mariano take the sniper rifle from Rex--Rex's baby, and start disassembling and reassembling it.
It was fluid, and smooth, and deliberate, like everything else the kid did. He made it look effortless. He made it look as easy as breathing. Just like his magic. He could summon plasma that rivaled the sun, clean and pure and brilliant, without so much as a stutter. He could jog miles and miles casually, before morning formation. He could handle Big Dog's big gun as effortlessly as the man himself did.
Click click click
Mariano was good. Good enough to be the wolf's eyes on the field, good enough to be a war mage, to bear those scars from training. He was barely nineteen. Victory's jaw ached.
His hands were scarred, too. Maybe not as deep or as dark, but he had them. His arms still bore the marks of blade training, and torch training. He wondered if they'd ever fade--the dreams sure hadn't. He could still feel Luis' careful touch as clearly as if he'd just left the training room. The hand that slid along his back as he knelt over the metal table, eighteen and furious and terrified.
Click click click
Luis' voice never felt that far away, either, as Mariano's low voice drifted through the open air. Luis had more of a lilt to his voice, he was more emotive overall, but Victory could still hear the similarities. It leached into his nightmares, that calm, even voice of Mariano's and his impassive dark eyes boring into Vic's very soul as his magic shorted and overwhelmed him, as he underwent a nearly-lethal internal meltdown.
Mariano watched him, in those dreams. He watched Victory Montez die on the bloodied training room floor with hardly a whisper of concern. He judged him as he faded, lightning still crackling hot at his fingertips and vision blurry. He watched as Victory Montez washed out of the war mage program, and began to wash out of life itself.
He watched as Victory proved to everyone that he'd never be enough.
The kid was watching him now, Victory realized with a start. Rex was, too. Both of them had stopped what they were doing, and it took a moment longer for Victory to realize that the shitty light bulb above his head was flickering. Face burning, he waved a hand dismissively and started packing his own things away.
The weight of their eyes was just too much to bear. He felt his chest aching, felt the crackle of his own magic racing around in his blood. He couldn't be Mariano. Not as he was, anyway.
He just needed to train more, is all. A few more hours at the shooting range. Going on more runs.
He could be good.
He could be brilliant, even.
He would show everyone just how brilliant he could be.
@lektricwhump @cyberwhumper @bxtterflystxtches @inscrutable-shadow @honeybees-125 @whumperofworlds
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