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buckybabesonly · 1 year

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Dirty Little Secret

Summary: You believe Bucky doesn’t even remember your name, not knowing he moans it to himself at night.

Part 2 - Dirty Little Confession

Pairing: Bucky x Female!Reader

Genre: Smut

Warnings: Masturbation (male)

Word count: 1.4K

A/N: Wrote this on my phone lol sorry for any potential errors. Just wanted to get a little smutty post out there. Also - thanks for nearly 400 followers in just over one week of starting this blog! I’m so happy 🥲 Enjoy!

“Hey. Are you listening?”

A pair of fingers snapped in front of your eyes, breaking you out of your reverie. You blinked in embarrassment as Natasha scowled at you playfully.

“Seriously though, did you listen to anything I just said?”

“No,” you confessed sheepishly.

Her eyes followed your line of sight, landing on a certain Bucky Barnes.

“Ah. You started writing ‘Mrs Bucky Barnes’ across your notepads yet?”

You blushed, heat rising to your cheeks. Were you that obvious? You supposed that one would have to be blind not to notice the goo-goo eyes you gave Bucky all the time whenever he was in the vicinity.

He had arrived at the compound just a few months ago, settling in to his new reformed life away from his history as the Winter Soldier. Steve did his best to help him adjust, and from what you could tell, he was fairly quiet and kept to himself.

“He’s kind of exactly my type,” you confessed to Natasha quietly, biting on your lower lip.

“I see. You like a guy with a high body count, huh.”

“Nat!” You exclaimed, slapping her arm as she snickered at the double entendre. “Not funny.”

“Hey, he gave me this.” Natasha yanked up her top, showing off her scar just above the hipbone. “I’m allowed to be mean to him.”

You grumbled in response as Natasha leant closer, cocking an eyebrow. “Anyway, as I was saying, I really need you to help me run some analysis on this equipment we picked up from…”

You shuffled through the compound hallways, a stack of files in your arms. You rounded a corner sharply, almost colliding with a tall, dark figure who sidestepped you neatly.

“Jesus Christ!” Though a collision had been avoided, you squawked in shock nonetheless, promptly dropping the files onto the floor.

“Ah, shit. Sorry,” Bucky said, quickly kneeling down to collect them.

“Oh god, I’m sorry,” you floundered, cheeks flushing red. He straightened up and stacked the files on your arms neatly, his long fingers brushing against yours ever so slightly. His eyes met yours as he offered you a half smile, the corners of his lips quirking up.

His irises were a gorgeous, gray blue, and you silently noted that you had never been stood so close to him before. He smelt so good, and he looked even better in his tight tactical gear.

“Thank you,” you stuttered, wanting to kick yourself at how ruffled you sounded. The effect this man had on you was unfair.

“You’re welcome…” he paused deliberately, and you offered your name to him eagerly. He repeated it, and you loved the way the syllables sounded on his tongue.

“See you around,” he said casually before he strode off again, leaving you a flustered mess in the hallway.

Okay, at least step one was accomplished - he finally knew your name, even if he might not remember it.

You sighed, knowing your little schoolgirl crush was going to be the death of you.

Bucky lay in bed that night, as he did most nights since coming to the compound, with his hands down his pants.

He liked to start off slow, usually. On the odd occasion, he would want it fast, his hands working overtime on his cock as he showered, water streaming over his body as he pumped himself to completion. He would cum hard each time, bracing himself against the shower tiles, your name on his lips.

But usually he liked to take his time. Enjoyed painting a picture in his mind, a mental porno in which you were the star.

God, you had been so fucking cute today. Bucky loved watching you squirm, seeing you blush, practically see the blood rushing to your cheeks.

He had playfully orchestrated the encounter in the hallway, able to smell your subtle perfume with his elevated senses (it had the smell of vanilla and sakura blossoms) as you power walked through the compound.

He was delighted when you practically unravelled in front of him just from a simple stare and a sweep of his fingers. He wondered what you would be like if he ever got you in front of him, naked, ready to take his cock.

His hand palmed his semi-hard erection as he settled back against the pillows, eyes closed. He teased himself, fingers gently tapping his dick, pulling slightly at his balls.

Your face was fixed in his mind. He recalled your wide, shocked eyes, your mouth open in a small ‘O’ as you gasped.

He imagined that mouth stretching wider, tongue lolling out, asking to suck his cock. You would be on your knees as he stood over you, feeding his dick into your warm cavern, and you would take as much as you could like a good girl. So eager to please.

“Ah, fuck,” Bucky hissed, pulling down the hem of his sweatpants and freeing himself completely.

His cock was heavy and thick as it lay against his stomach, twitching slightly as his mind filled itself with the most lewd images of you.

Of course he knew your name. He had asked Steve for it after the first few times he’d spotted you, playing it off as a casual inquiry.

He moaned it now as he dragged drops of his pre-cum down his shaft, wishing it was your hands that was wrapped around his length.

Somehow he found it thrilling, the idea of you believing that he had no clue who you were. He wondered what your reaction would be if you could see him now, rendered a horny, sweaty mess as he masturbated to thoughts of you and only you.

He imagined you spread out in front of him, legs wide, panting and begging for him to fuck your tight pussy. He would slap the head of his cock against your entrance, dragging it against your wet folds, teasing.

In reality, he knew that if he ever found himself in that position, he wouldn’t be able to hold back. Hell, he’d be the one begging you to let him fuck you.

“Yeah, you like that, baby?” Bucky grunted, his hand beginning to move at a steady tempo. If he went too fast, he would definitely cum within seconds, and he wanted to make this last.

He imagined being able to fondle your soft breasts, imagined being able use his mouth on your nipples, wanting to suckle on your tits. He imagined being allowed to kiss every inch of your body, from your toes, up the inner thighs, through the valley of your breasts and to your lips.

He would kiss you with passion and fire, tongue searching yours, wet and hot and needy. He would cup his hand behind your neck, fuck into you slowly and make you moan his name into his mouth.

He tried to imagine how that would sound like, high pitched and breathy.

“Beg for me,” Bucky said aloud, his hand moving up and down his cock as he fantasised about it moving in and out of your cunt instead. “God, beg me to cum inside you.”

He bet your soaking pussy would feel ten times better than jerking off alone in his room, but for now, this was the best he could get. He imagined rutting into you, hard, watching you shake under him as you became undone.

“You gonna let me cum inside you, princess?” He groaned, feeling himself reach the edge. He could see you in his mind, touching your own clit, pleasuring yourself as Bucky’s fat cock disappeared inside you over and over and over again.

You would beg for him to breed you, to fill you up, that sweet mouth speaking the filthiest words.

“Ah - ah fuck, I’ll give it to you, you’re taking it all like a good girl,” Bucky gasped, his hand clenching around his thick, veiny cock before he released all the pent up sexual frustration inside.

Creamy, hot ropes of cum spurted out, onto his stomach. He steadily stroked himself through the high, imagining you crying out as you orgasmed, imagining you being filled up with his seed.

He envisioned how it would look as he continued to thrust, you letting yourself be used, whimpering at the over stimulation.

Bucky was breathing rapidly, body finally going lax as his sticky hand released his softening cock. His heart was beating rapidly as he licked his lips, sighing longingly.

One day, he thought, almost a prayer, one day I’ll get to see what you look like when you cum.

Part 2 - Dirty Little Confession

#bucky x reader #bucky x female reader #Bucky smut #Bucky Barnes #bucky barnes smut #bucky fic #Bucky x you smut #Bucky x you PWP

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kamotecue · 9 months

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the secret wife ➳ k. gorry

pairing: katrina gorry x reader

summary: it was a match between two secret lovers, australia and sweden were to face off for the bronze medal shattering the dreams of one. swedish!reader

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ ⋆✦⋆ ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

you were nervous, how can you not be? it was the bronze match against australia, the team your wife plays for. no one knew you were a couple except harper, gorry’s little bundle of joy.

you saw asllani giving you a look, as you sighed. you hardly got nervous, the only time you did was during the wedding, everything went smoothly thankfully.

“nervös, y/n? [nervous, y/n?]” asllani asked, as you gave her a timid smile.

“det är inte som du [it’s not like you].” madga chuckled as you gave her a soft push. they were right, but you knew how important this match was to katrina. she wished to win the world cup as they are one of the co-hosts of this tournament, and deep down you wanted her to win as well.

“det är bara nerverna [it’s just the nerves].” you said, chuckling at the end. you watched as the substitute players made their way to the bench, while you joined the rest in the tunnel.

you saw her give you a soft smile, as you returned it before heading to your spot, behind asllani as you had the number 10.

the next thing you knew it was time to walk out the tunnel, you grabbed your mascot’s hand as you simply swung it from time to time. as you took the starting XI picture, you glanced at the other team and softly smile before heading to your position.

“focus, y/n.” madga said, as you gave her a nod.

so far there has been no goals, until the 30th minute were frido scored the penalty after she went down under the pressure of polkinghorne. you watched as the celebrated, a soft smile on your face.

in the first minute of extra time, you watched as katrina was given a yellow card after she tried to nick the ball from asllani but ended up leaving on the floor. you sighed, you knew it would be a physical game, especially when both teams were desperate to get the medal.

but what you didn’t expect was for asllani to go for the ball, which ended for your wife to fall on the floor and asllani standing above her, making your wife unable to move.

you knew this wouldn’t end well, as katrina got up she shoved your captain. you saw asllani had pushed her, which made you step in. you were in front for katrina, everyone expected you to push her away from asllani but you did the most unexpected thing by pushing asllani back.

you however didn’t expect to get pushed by polkinghorne, causing gorry to push her away.

“vi behöver inte att du får en gul. [we don’t need you to get a yellow.]” you said, as asllani sighed before taking a deep breath.

as the ref signaled for half time, you went ahead of the team and reached the locker room first, taking a seat as you fidgeted with your hands.

you listened to the tactics of your coach, as you’d softly drum the water bottle against your thigh to keep you busy. the game is almost over, australia has a chance to change this whole game around.

then half time was over, you watched as asllani passed the armband to madga who wore it. you took your spot on the midfield, as the game continued.

in the 58th minute, you watched as steph catley sent a cross from the back line. mary fowler made a tap on the ball, sending it past your goal keeper making it 1-1. the australian fans had cheered loudly, there is a chance that they can win it. but their hopes were shattered as asllani made a goal in the 62nd minute.

she drove through the middle, where she slides it for blackstenius who is forced wide by hunt, however she keeps her cool to shake off the australian defender and pick out asllani. she hits the shot from the first time from just outside the box, and australia’s goal keeper mackenzie arnold can’t get enough on it to keep it out. 2-1 to sweden!

you didn’t know how long the game would continue, it was the additional time, but your answers were heard as the whistle had been blown signaling the end of the match. you watched as the matildas crumbled to their feet.

you saw your team ran on the field, joining the huddle as you gave katrina a small smile who returned it, yet it didn’t reach her eyes.

you shook hands with every player, leaving the love of your life last. she wrapped her arms around your waist as she buried her face into the crook of your neck.

“i’m sorry, love. i knew how much it meant to you.” you said, as katrina chuckled. she gave you a tap on your back, as she shook her head.

“don’t apologize love, you were the better team after all.” katrina said, as you gave her a tight hug.

“go and get your medal.” katrina said, as you nodded before joining your team. once the pictures were over, you jogged back to katrina who gave you a soft smile.

“here, love. you also deserve this medal.” you said, as you reached over your neck and put the medal around hers, as she gently shoved you before pulling you into a kiss that caught the attention of both of your teams, the fans and it was a shock.

#katrina gorry #katrina gorry imagine #katrina gorry x reader #auswnt x reader #matildas x reader #woso imagine #woso x reader #woso one shot

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jinkookspencil · 10 months

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Hey, one with jk, he attends a red carpet and saw for the first time to his idol ( this world wide famous singer) and starts fanboying her, and they spend time together, and he asks for his number

i was surprised at how quickly i wrote this since my writing pace has been so incredibly slow and also since i’ve never written idol!jungkook like this before or idol!reader. now i keep resisting the urge to hold it in my drafts and add to it and make it longer >.< i feel like i might be able to maybe continue it?? but idk. thank you sm for requesting, anon!! i hope you like it!

she’s here? | jjk

jungkook arrives at another tedious brand event… only to see his celebrity crush

wc: ~1.8k

tags: idol!jungkook x idol!reader (afab reader) / fluff / one-shot / first meeting / clean except swearing / featuring: kim mingyu of seventeen / mentions: IU and cha eunwoo of astro

The flashing lights appeared before the car had even come to a full stop, and Jungkook was bored already. Sat fiddling with his styled outfit and brand-gifted jewelry, as he began to hear distant yells of his name, he wondered how soon he could leave the event. It wasn’t personal, just another tedious event.

“It’s good you decided to come here,” his manager, Do-yun, says beside him as if reading his thoughts. “It’s been a while since you made a public appearance, you’re contracted to show off your brand ambassadorship and promote the jewelry, and most of all, your album is coming up. This’ll be good.”

“Mhmm,” Jungkook murmurs, ready to disassociate for the next couple of hours while putting on his best smile. All he wanted at that moment was samgyeopsal, karaoke, and beers with Mingyu and Eunwoo… but duty calls. “Is Mingyu going to be here?”

“The PLEDIS team hasn’t answered my text,” Do-yun says. “You’re up.”

The van’s jet-black door slides open and Jungkook is almost immediately blinded by the lights of the cameras going off right in front of him. He’d forgotten just how bright they could be, but thankfully remembered his failsafe sensory-overload tactic: covering up his face with his hands. It was the only way Jungkook could cope, and for once, he thanked his youthful appearance and reputation for making him seem adorable above all else. He adjusts soon enough, as always, strutting down the carpet and showing off his charm, outfit, and accessories. He was able to pick up on one or two of the paparazzi and press’ requests, showing off a finger-heart pose and playfully touching his abs over his outfit, but in an instant, their loud voices fade, and time slows. He can’t hear anything. He can’t see anything… but the beautiful smile he's started to dream of, right behind the clear double doors of the event. Was that really….

“Jungkook!”

He hears that - a call right beside his ears coming from the familiar, booming voice of his own manager, now grabbing his elbow. “Snap out of it. You’re supposed to be in by now.”

Looking around, Jungkook realizes he’d been holding up a line, with a dozen other celebrities waiting for his moment to be over, while the paparazzi continued to cheer, capture, and fawn over him, eating up his ‘adorable spacing out moment.’

“I apologize!” Jungkook smiles, bowing to the celebrities beside him as well as the hundreds of photographers ahead of him, his heart racing as Do-yun and his security team lead him to the double doors. When they’re pulled open, his bubbling anticipation subsides, for rather than the heavenly hallucination he must've had, he sees Mingyu standing before him.

“Gyu!” Jungkook yelps, hugging his best friend, who greets him with the same enthusiasm. “Samgyeopsal and karaoke afterwards?”

“Please, sunbaenim,” Mingyu giggles quietly. “I’m bored out of my fucking mind. I’ve been here for an hour already.”

Unable to wait even a minute, Jungkook brings in both his manager and his best friend into a huddle. “Hey, am I dreaming, or was that _____ I saw in here?”

“She is here, simp,” Mingyu smiles, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively before sticking out his tongue between his teeth.

“Do-yun, you didn’t tell me she would be here tonight,” Jungkook says in a panic.

“I didn’t know. Seems she decided at the last minute, just like you did.”

“Soulmates,” Jungkook whispers under his breath, ignoring the two men rolling their eyes before him. “This is fate. We keep missing each other at these things…. I have to meet her.”

“I’ll make it happen, Kook-ah,” Mingyu smirks, expecting the light shove Jungkook gives him afterward. “For you, I promise. You know we don’t have the same taste in girls. Do-yun, do you know that I never even crushed on IU?”

“You fucking idiot - you know you’re the only idol who hasn’t, right?” Jungkook says. “Anyways, IU was a boyhood crush. This…. she… she’s even better.”

“Oh, shit. Do-yun-nim. This is serious. We need to do something.”

“I don’t know where your team is, Kim Mingyu, but I’m dragging the both of you to meet everyone you actually have to meet here. Then, sit in a corner and chat about pork or singalongs, or mingle with safe people. Men - or female staff only. You know the drill,” Do-yun says sternly. “Best to stay safe even though you don’t really have to worry about sneaky photos - security is tight, and they took all our phones. The only people with their phones are idols and brand ambassadors such as yourselves. Got it?”

The boys nod reluctantly. “Now we know why he keeps missing her at these things,” Mingyu scoffs, and at that, Do-yun quickly places a hand on Jungkook’s shoulder.

“I’ll make it happen, Jungkook-ssi.”

It’d been close to an hour since Do-yun scurried away and mere minutes since Mingyu silently left Jungkook to fend for himself and wish his other members had been invited. He was so used to being glued to his hyungs at the hip, and now he found himself scanning the crowded room for a familiar face.

“Jungkook!” Mingyu’s familiar voice boomed, and Jungkook finds his best friend farther than he’d expected, close to the other side of the room with a wide smirk on his face. Knowing his friend was just as menacing as he was sweet, Jungkook made his way there without any thoughts…

"For your own benefit, I took a page from your book and stopped waiting around for the company’s approval... You're my bad influence, so you are my first bad idea. Thank me or scold me later."

One can never be sure when it comes to Mingyu, so Jungkook nods and allows his friend to grab him by the hand…. silently leading him through the crowded room... to you.

"Do-yun-nim was taking too long. Found her much hotter friend first, and ta-da,” Mingyu quickly whispers into his ear.

In a moment of panic, Jungkook’s idol-wired brain took over, quickly scanning the room for any warning signs - untrustworthy staff or sketchy fellow idols, hidden cameras. It seemed… safe. It was just an innocent meeting, tucked away in a corner of the room… No biggie.

“BTS Jungkook…”

Jungkook couldn’t believe it. Your voice was as sweet as it was in your interviews… But you were far, far more beautiful in real life.

“____!” he cheers. “It’s really nice to meet you.”

“Me? Coming from BTS’ Jeon Jungkook, wah, I guess I’ve made it then.”

Holy shit, how do you blush so adorably?

“You have made it,” Jungkook says, “And with your own blood, sweat, and tears, too. It’s insanely admirable.”

“You flatter me too much. You paved the way! I hope to one day get to the level where I can quote my own songs too.”

“That… was unintentional,” Jungkook blushes, regretting his choice of words. “But your lyrics are… some of the most beautiful I’ve come across in all my years as an idol. Your latest single brought me to tears.”

“It’s true. It was embarrassing,” Mingyu confirms, ignoring Jungkook’s glare.

“Oh, no, that touches my heart. It makes me feel like an honest artist and a bit proud, actually - not that I made you cry! But that my experience translated into the song like that… I cried every second I worked on the song, actually.”

“Oh no. I hope you never cry a day in your life, _____,” Jungkook blurts. “Don’t get hurt, please.”

“Thank you, Jungkook,” you say with a heartwarming giggle. “I have to, though, don’t I? I’ll take care of my health, but I have to live. To live is to cry every now and then.”

“That’s true. Namjoon-hyung says that too - you know he’s the main songwriter in our group, right?”

“Of course.”

“Beautiful lyrics can only come from beautiful people.”

In a failed attempt to hide his scoff, Mingyu scurries off. “Simp," he quickly mutters under his breath. "I’ll go find your friend, ____.”

“Kim Mingyu, treat her well!” you call out with a ferocity that ignites another fire in Jungkook’s heart.

“Jungkook-ssi…. Maybe we can write together sometime?”

“I’m not really a writer,” Jungkook says, not knowing the reason why. A failed display of honesty, perhaps? He has written in the past, of course, for both his own discography as well as BTS’…. A surge of regret floods his system in a second.

“You’re a beautiful person, Jungkook, so by your logic, you must be able to write some beautiful lyrics as well.”

Stunned, Jungkook is unable to respond. Did you just call him beautiful?

“You really are as cute as they say… as cute as I imagined,” you smile. “What do you say?”

Jungkook nods, happily giving you his phone when you ask for it before typing in his number in yours.

“So I can call you?” Jungkook asks, brushing his hair away from his face.

“I hope you do.”

You turn your back, ready to make your way back into the event and probably find your friend, but the moment you’d turned your back, Jungkook realizes he hadn’t said enough.

“____?” It takes another moment for Jungkook to muster up the courage to go on once he sees your face again, so he spills out his words the moment they come to him. “I just want to tell you that I… I really respect you as an artist. I always have, and I always will. I can’t say the same for so many of our peers these days, unfortunately, so I felt like I needed to say that.”

“I...... I needed to hear that more than anything else, Jungkook-ssi... Thank you,” you say quietly.

“Thank you," you repeat in a whisper. “I’m also thanking whatever force or higher power made you say that just now.”

“I mean it myself, though,” Jungkook reiterates.

“I know, but it feels like fate that you’d told me that tonight. I’ll tell you the story one day - why I so badly needed to hear that tonight.”

Jungkook nods, exhaling in an effort to hide his astonishment as you walk away in a rush, hiding whatever emotion you were feeling too.

One day.

He’ll hold you - and fate - up to that.

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tacticaldiary · 11 months

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To Hate A Heart That Beats For You

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Reader

Genre: Jealousy, Tension

"Say please." It's all teeth and a sharp teasing voice with her. Ghost stills at the command, annoying flickering its agitated flames.

Every fucking thing about her rubbed him the wrong way, made him so...out of control? Agitated? All of the above? She always somehow manages to make him concede. She did it back then and she's doing it right now with his breath ghosting over her lips, hot and heavy.

Masterlist

There are not many things that shake the foundation of control Ghost keeps a tight grip on.

Throw him in the middle of a gunfight, a brawl or a series of rough drills and he's normally the first one to make it out. All his life he's been the kind of person to keep to himself, to deal with problems as efficiently and effectively as possible.

She was the exception.

Standing in front of him after two years, with the same pride lining her shoulders, the defiance in her eyes.

"You remember the Lieutenant, don't you?" Laswell stands between them, an unknowing mediator.

"We're...acquainted." She says dryly, locking eyes with Ghost himself. Her voice is the same as well. Everything about her is a shock to his system so part of him is glad that she's the one who spoke up.

Two years. Two years since they'd been promoted to the rank of Lieutenant together and gone their separate ways. He'd joined the 141 and she had taken fancy to some tactical intel gathering specialist group.

Laswell pauses, looking up from her file at the clear snap of tension in the air.

"No need for introductions then." She shuts the folder, giving them both her full attention. "She'll be joining your team for today, talking to your recruits about the intel gathering division she's a part of. Sergeant Gaz is already doing vice versa. I expect you to play nice for today, I don't want any... incidents, copy?"

"Copy." She says, watching Ghost nod.

And then suddenly they're alone, with only the thump of distant footsteps from the recruits to punctuate the silence hanging between them.

"As friendly as ever I see."

"I'm as friendly as you are pleasant." Ghost responds.

"I'm plenty pleasant. It's you that's never been able to get that stick out of your ass."

"Careful." He narrows his eyes, pushing himself off the wall. "We know how the last time you picked a fight ended."

"That's cute." She smiles. "I seem to remember you getting put on desk duty for two weeks."

"After I choked you out on the training mat."

"I'm sure you've been dreaming of doing that again." Her self-satisfied smile widens when he doesn't respond for a moment, taken aback. With a shake of her head, she directs her gaze back onto the field where the soldiers are slowly finishing their last lap. "I feel sorry for them. Having to see your ugly mug in the morning with that mask can't make their breakfast settle very well."

An arm brushes against hers, and before he pushes past her, Ghost leans down right next to her ear. "You were yelling quite the opposite the last time you saw it." He whispers with a slightly thicker accent than usual, letting the satisfaction of seeing that smug expression falter for a moment settle deep into him as he knocks past her roughly.

They had a...messy history to say the least.

Two forces as headstrong as them were bound to butt heads. Her earliest memory is arguing with him. The both of them have always had a competitive streak, whether that be on the mat or running timed drills.

That tension had to blow up in their faces sometime, and that time just happened to be the day after they both got promoted...

Her eyes follow his form as he orders the recruits over, telling them to split into small groups, informing them of why she was there.

Red creeps up her neck her mind flashes back to that night. They had been taunting each other in passing all day, silently arguing who the better candidate had been, which one of them deserved it more. It doesn't sound like Ghost at all but they'd always had something more fiery than what they were like by themselves.

One too many jabs had led to a small tussle, which had led to a moment of weakness and...well, now's not the time to remember the frantic touches and calloused hands. The first time she'd seen his maskless...

He certainly had been anything but ugly and that makes her so fucking mad.

Shaking it off, she composes herself and decides to take the reigns.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

It's been an hour of standing around, supervising the talk, and Ghost is ready to tear into something. Or someone, more preferably.

His jaw clenches, watching how she floats from soldier to soldier, group to group. The effect on them is instantaneous with the way they straighten up, surprised at being addressed before melting into smiles that are a tad bit too wide and eager, and eyes that wander farther than appropriate.

Her hand lingers on some of their shoulders, elbows nudge and compliments flow out of her mouth.

Maybe he's finally going insane?

A few times their eyes meet, and neither of them look away, too stubborn to be the first to fold. Every time, the corner of her mouth quirks up when she turns to keep doing what she was.

A sick, ugly feeling rears its head inside him at the sight.

What gave those pathetic recruits the right to look at her that way? And why are his fingers twitching for the knives strapped along the expanse of his body?

Why the fuck does he care?

"...Ghost? You with us?" She raises an eyebrow when his glare snaps to her instead. She's wandered over to him, leaving the recruits to talk amongst themselves for a break.

"What?" He says coldly.

"Someone piss in your breakfast?" God, he'd throttle her first, then move on to those other men-

"Same person who pissed in yours." The retort gets him a raise of an eyebrow but nothing more.

"Sure. I'm done here, so you can go back to terrorising the poor kids." It's a receptive group, more than a couple of them had shown interest in what she was saying. A few of the more promising ones she had taken a personal note of, intending to pass their names forward to Laswell to consider.

"Until we have the misfortune of meeting again." She says, and maybe it's a throwaway act of trying to remain civil in such a public setting, but she extends a hand towards him.

He eyes it for a second, eyes narrowing.

"If you're afraid I'll throw you over my shoulder like last time-"

She grins smugly when he takes her hands, squeezing it through the brief handshake a little harder than necessary.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

This is a terrible idea.

Somehow, because whoever's up there seems to have a personal vendetta against him, Ghost finds himself standing in front of her office door, a file on all the recruit's scores and past experiences Laswell had ordered him to pass onto her clutched loosely in his arm.

It was 11 at night, but the army notoriously never slept.

Because he's not a fucking animal, he knocks, waiting to hear her call out an okay before pushing the door open.

It's as sparsely decorated as his own office. There's not much to keep the value of sentiment in with lives as busy as theirs, but the things that catch his focus are the small picture frames set on her desk.

After her, of course.

Changed into something more casual, his eyes trace the dips and curves that are so utterly her.

"Did you need something?" She asks, the friendly edge to her voice flittering away when she sees it's him.

"No, but you do." Moving closer, he tosses the file onto her desk. Staring at it for a moment, she clicks her tongue whilst flipping through the pages.

"I'd like to snag a couple of these for my team in a few years." She mutters to herself, pausing over a few of the reports. Ghost's hands twitch with the urge to curl them inwards when he remembers the events of this morning.

She's studying him, he realises. With a quiet, titled expression, she's taking him in head to toe and it's the first time in a while Ghost has felt so stripped to the core.

"Got something to say?" His voice comes out rougher than intended. Making no move to speak, the corner of her lips quirk up slightly. Huffing quietly, she spins her chair back around to face her desk, picking up the pen she'd discarded when he first walked through her doors.

It's quiet. The scratching of pen on paper. Something about it jarrs him, ignites a twinge of irritation because why the hell is she so quiet now after he's asked her a question? Normally she sparsely shuts up enough for his heart to cool down from its quickened pace.

He'd say later on that he weighed the decision he made, that he really thought it through but frankly, the only thing on his mind is her, and it's cloudy with enough anger and an emotion he's not willing to admit right now that he acts without thinking. Completely on instinct.

Ghost spins the chair around so he's facing her and looking down. "Ignoring me now?" He says into the sharp silence. "Never thought I'd see the day you shut your mouth."

"Is that the way you talk to someone you spent the night with?" She answers. He grunts in surprise at her hand curling around the back of his beck, yanking him further down until they're face to face. "That's why you're still here, aren't you? Still bothered from this morning?" The smug look on her face only makes Ghost more irritated because she's right. He could have easily left after dropping the file off. He had no apparent reason to stay. "Couldn't stand the thought of sharing something you've already had a bite out of?"

It dawns on him with her tone right there and then.

She'd been doing it on purpose. The glances to him as she made her rounds, the way she lingered over the recruits only when she could feel his eyes burning into her from behind.

Ghost is met with that teasing, smug grin that fixes him into place a little too effectively because when she hooks an ankle around the bend of his knee and pulls, he goes down onto his knees without much of a fight. He's tall enough so they're actually face to face now, eyes level.

"Finally caught on?" The smooth lilt to has his stomach twisting and his mind reeling, though he stays as composed on the outside as always. Waiting. Watching. Urging himself to keep his hands to himself.

"Fuckin' hell." He breathes out. "You little minx."

"Affirmative."

Heated eyes take in the being that is her. Sharp smiles, dirty tactics, and that attitude that made him want to do things that would get him discharged if he were to ever voice them.

All of her was a deadly beautiful.

It checks out that Ghost is lover of deadly.

Calloused, rough hands, trails up her legs and settle around her hips. His eyes flicker down to her mouth and for a moment, neither of them speak. Then she leans closer and for a moment Ghost braces himself.

"Say please." It's all teeth and a sharp teasing voice with her. Ghost stills at the command, annoying flickering its agitated flames.

Every fucking thing about her rubbed him the wrong way, made him so...out of control? Agitated? All of the above?

He swallows past the bitter taste in his throat. Weighs his options.

"Please."

He mumbles it because she always somehow manages to make him concede. She did it back then and she's doing it right now with his breath ghosting over her lips, hot and heavy.

A smirk curves her mouth. "What was that?" She whispers. "Couldn't quite hear you..." Her hands move from his collar up to the edge of his balaclava, toying with the edge. Ghost makes no move to stop her when she slowly, so achingly slowly, starts rolling the fabric up.

"I fuckin' hate you." He growls, actions and words at war.

"You're showing me a lot of love for someone who claims so." Is all she says, movements halting as the fabric bunches over his nose, laying bare the bottom half of his face. "Would you let anyone touch you like this, hmm?" Skimming her fingers over the scar on his chin, his own hands tighten around her hips at the gentle feeling. She ends up cupping his cheeks. "Because I'll tell you this, Simon-"

It's a physical reaction, the way she says his name. He straightens up instinctively and takes in a muted, sharp inhale. She leans closer, and if he only tilted his head up a fraction they'd brush lips.

"It's been a long time since I've let anyone touch me like you are."

It snaps something in him, maybe his patience or perhaps his resolve.

One hand slides up to the back of her neck, the other one yanks her out of her chair and to the floor. He crashes their mouths together in a kiss that brings an instant sort of relief. It's not sweet by any means, all clicking teeth and pulling at each other. Hands roaming and breaths shared.

Neither of them knows who pulls away first, but eventually they're left to catch their breath, their foreheads pressed together.

Then she laughs, a light, soft breeze. "You should've seen yourself back then. Looked like you wanted to flay those kids alive." She snickers.

"I did." There's no use denying it, not when this, when she, makes something curl up and settle down deep within him. As much as she riles him up, she also brings him a kind of peace that he can't describe.

Goddamn, he's so far gone. Maybe he should book in a psych eval soon...

"Never thought I'd see the day you were like this." She hums, "Wish I'd taken a video of it."

"It won't happen again, love." He shakes his head, trying and failing to push down the slightest bit of amusement. "That you can count on."

"Wanna bet?" She says cheekily, scratching at the nape of his neck with her nails gently. It makes a shiver run down his spine, the curl of her lips widens as she feels it.

"You drive me fuckin' insane, you know that?" He mumbles against her lips.

"You love it." Is all she manages to get out before he pulls her in again.

Requests Are Open! Reblog, Like and Comment!

(27/07/2023)

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delicatebarness · 9 days

Note

So I was thinking earlier for the Avengers Bunch

What if…while on a mission and in the middle of the fight reader is listening to music and just starts humming which leads to singing quietly till other young avenger hears and joins and another one and so on

the young avengers just start singing cause someone is anxious or just because they’re bored and when they run into the enemy they are like what is happening

And the song would be “We Didn’t Start The Fire” Fallout boy rendition or you can chose

The Avengers Bunch | Who's Robert Downey Jr Anyway?! #004

Summary: ^^ Requested.

Warning: Violence. Mentions of real-life events from 1989 - 2023 that could be triggering.

Word Count: 567

Series Masterlist

Tags: @somnorvos |

youtube

On the outskirts of an abandoned nuclear power plant, bursts of energy and lights flashing illuminated the night sky. The recruits were in the thick of their mission, each one of them locked in their conflict. Amidst the chaos, you crouched behind a pile of rubble, trying to catch your breath and reload your guns. After a moment, you remembered you packed your AirPods…

“Why do you need them?” you remember Bucky asking you from your doorway.

Slipping them into your ears, you pressed shuffle on your playlist, and the familiar strains of “We Didn’t Start The Fire” by Fall Out Boy filled your senses. As you re-entered the battle, you found yourself humming along to the beat.

Softly, the hums turned into singing, barely audible over the fights. “Captain Planet, Arab Spring, LA riots, Rodney King…”

Nearby, Kate crouched with her bow at the ready, glancing over at you. “Are you singing?”

You gave her a sheepish grin, still humming. “It’s to help me focus.”

Nodding, Kate smiled at you before she took a deep breath and joined on the next line. “Deepfakes, earthquakes, Iceland volcano…”

Spider-Man swung in from above you, delivering a kick to a robotic enemy. He landed next to you, eyebrows raised beneath his mask. “Cool! Karaoke time!” Without hesitation, he joined in, surprisingly in tune. “Oklahoma City bomb…”

Suddenly, an amplified voice added a deep resonance as a shadow loomed over you. “I am Groot, I am Groot, I am Groot, I am Groot…” Groot has caught on to what was happening.

Soon enough, the four of you were all belting out the song, your voices melding together in a harmonious chorus. Your enemies, a group of heavily armed mercenaries even paused in their attacks. Staring in confusion at you all.

“What the hell?” one of them muttered, lowering their weapon slightly.

Even the most seasoned in their ranks, looked bewildered. “What is happening?” he growled, becoming distracted for a moment.

You and your friends never missed a beat. You used the mercenaries’ confusion to your advantage. “Cambridge Analytica!” you sang together, your voices rang out across the battlefield.

As the last of the mercenaries were knocked out, you regrouped, still singing the lines of the song.

Kate paused and looked confused when you all sang, “Robert Downey Jr, Iron Man.” Picking up her arrows she asked, “Wait, who’s Robert Downey Jr anyway?”

“No idea,” Peter shrugged, sending one more punch toward a waking mercenary. “Must be some old actor.”

Groot nodded, “I am Groot.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Tony will know.”

Once your enemies were tied up and the area was secure, you made your way back to the Quin Jet. As you and the rest of your team boarded, still humming together, you found the ‘older’ Avengers sitting inside, their heads in their hands.

Bucky looked up first, his face a mix of annoyance and amusement. “Do you realize we have comms? We heard… everything.”

Steve sighed, rubbing his temples. “Every. Single. Note.”

With a raised eyebrow, Natasha made her way over to you. “Not the most conventional tactic, but it worked.”

You blushed slightly. “Sorry, we just got carried away.” Sharing a look with your friends, you all tried to stifle your laughter. Leaning back in your seat, you began to hum softly again as the Quin Jet lifted off.

“For the love of Odin, shut up!”

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ddejavvu · 10 months

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Hey! Idk if you do extensions on previous works, but if you do I would love to request an extension for your hangman getting all shy around his crush who is his WSO story :)

(This is my first time requesting so I hope I’m following all the rules/doing it properly! I’m so sorry if I’m not! Also, please feel free to ignore this if you don’t feel inspired or if you have too many requests!)

You know how in the movie when they had those briefings/meetings the WSO and their pilots sit together? I can picture hangman being all chivalrous and pulling out the chair for his WSO and being all ‘I saved you a seat! Only if you want though…’ and being all blushy when she sits down and he keeps trying to focus on the meeting but he can’t. And all the other daggers are watching like ‘who are you and what did you do with hangman???’/giving him knowing looks because it’s obvious how down bad he is!

Sorry if this is too specific, and feel free to ignore this! :)💗💗

Your squadron gets semi jumbled as you file through the door to the classroom, but somehow you manage to fall in line after Jake. You two seem to have developed magnetic charges in the short time you've been his backseater, you're always one step behind him or he's brushing his shoulder against your own when he passes.

He heads for a spot in the front row of seats, the cushy blue chair looking like heaven after being crammed into a fighter jet for two hours. You're about to drift left to sit beside Natasha when Jake turns to gesture to the row he's standing beside, "Here y'go, darlin'. Take the far one."

You're not sure why he's insisting on the seat closer to the wall rather than the aisle for you; maybe he wants to chat with Rooster across the way. Said pilot is whispering something to Coyote beside him, and the two snicker while shooting Jake a sneaky glance. Whatever the reason, you let Jake usher you into the seat right of the aisle, and he settles right beside you in front of the podium.

You sink into the seat with a grateful thank-you, but it's interrupted by a sharp creak from the old chair you've put your weight on. It's a loud, awkward sound, and most heads in the room turn to look at you curiously. You try not to feel embarrassed, after all it's not your fault the chair is unstable, but Jake stands abruptly from his own chair at the commotion.

"Here, swap." He offers, his charming smile on full display, "You want the quiet one?"

"Oh, it's okay," You assure Jake, flattered by his chivalry as he reaches for your hand to pull you out of the chair, "It's just creaky, I can live with it."

"Don't worry about it," He dismisses your evasion tactics, gesturing to his previous seat that's now wide-open, "Come on darlin', this way you can see the screen better. Don't want you to miss anything."

Your second round of thanks to him is mumbled slightly as you hoist yourself up and over the divider between your seats, settling into the slightly warm cushions that Jake had just evacuated. The chair beside you creaks even louder than before at Jake's broad frame resting on its worn parts, but he owns the mishap far smoother than you had, clearing his throat with an amused smirk on his face and slinging his arm around the back of your chair.

There's a round of chuckles that pass through the mostly-silent classroom at his dramatic antics, and you're not surprised that Bradley takes the opportunity to pick at Jake.

"Thank god you two switched. Y/N smells much nicer than you, Hangman, and that chair'll drown out whatever bullshit comes out of your mouth."

There is, in fact, a rather loud creak as Jake leans towards Bradley to retaliate. However, you're more focused on the large hand that's come to fall against your thigh, slight pressure put just above your knee as Hangman leans over you to speak.

"You wanna talk about smells, Bradshaw, everyone knows your therapist is a bottle. Christ, walking past you smells like a closing shift at the Hard Deck."

"Alright!" Natasha's quick to step in, having seen many similar conversations take unfortunate nosedives, "Alright, you two both drink too much, and everybody smells like sweat in here. Okay? Just back down."

Hangman concedes with a tight clench to his jaw, and when he leans back into his seat, his face passes by yours. He sends you a sheepish smile, squeezing gently at your thigh before releasing it as his back presses to the creaky chair once more.

"Sorry about that," He keeps his voice hushed, attention turned to the front when Maverick finally steps through the doors, "He likes pissing me off."

"And it works," You chuckle, nudging his shoulder teasingly with your own, "Don't let him get to you, Hangman. Phoenix was right, we all smell like shit."

Maverick begins his makeshift lecture and drowns out whatever Jake could have mustered up in response, but the two of you each wear matching grins as your class session begins. There's no need for a verbal response as he nudges your thigh with the knuckle of his pointer finger: 'thanks'.

#jake seresin x reader #jake seresin imagine #jake seresin fanfiction #jake seresin x you #jake seresin x y/n #hangman #hangman x reader #hangman x you #hangman x y/n #hangman fanfiction #hangman imagine #jake hangman seresin #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin imagine #jake hangman seresin fanfiction #jake hangman seresin x you #jake hangman seresin x y/n #top gun x reader #top gun maverick x reader

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shares-a-vest · 1 year

Text

had to write a Steve-centric Mother's Day thingy too. this one is sad like my Eddie one yesterday, but at least my boys are smiling by the end???

Mother's Day, 1998

Eddie tries not to watch from his prime position on the couch as Steve paces back and forward in the kitchen. He stops every now and then to linger by the phone mounted on the wall near the table.

Okay so maybe Eddie peers above his notebook once or twice and follows swiftly by looking down at Joanie, surrounded by a kaleidoscope of crayons as she colours at the coffee table. Steve sighs loud enough that the sound travels into the living room. Eddie listens as he punches in a number and walks off, presumably stretching the cord as far from earshot as possible.

"Shit," he curses.

"You swore," Joanie chimes, not looking up from her colouring book.

"I expect a freebie today, munchkin," he peeks out from his notebook to find Joanie glaring.

"...Fine," she agrees after a long pause.

He grumbles and scribbles out the most recent lines of his poem, the rhyming couplet suddenly feeling too saccharine for the general mood of today.

He should have known better, considering Steve emerged from the bedroom relatively late (for him) cradling his favourite sickly little furball Meatloaf like a baby - which he continued to do all morning. The poor thing is now teetering on the kitchen island, abandoned and desperate to get down.

Eddie hops up, rushing to the cat before he can get into too much trouble. Meatloaf whimpers, his meow more like a cry, regardless of whether his keeper has left him on his lonesome or not. He cringes at the sound. It's just so goddamn sad and certainly, a noise he could do without today especially.

He releases Meatloaf, now free to roam the apartment. But the scamp follows the phone cord stretching to the bedroom, his wobbly back legs catching and slipping every few steps as he hurries along, presumably on his way to get stuck under a piece of furniture.

Eddie makes a beeline back to the couch, not wanting to eavesdrop on Steve's phone call. He can hear murmuring, which he convinces himself is a good sign. At least Steve's mother actually picked up the phone this time.

Eddie tosses his notebook to the side, now uninterested in his tradition of writing a Mother's Day poem for his own mother. He chews at his nails, a fidgeting tactic to stop himself from twirling his hair. At least if he chews his nails, the worrying technique will be lost on Steve who won't be able to fixate on Eddie's feelings to distract himself.

"What going on?" Joanie wonders suspiciously, craning her neck to look down the hall.

"Uh…" he hums.

He really doesn't know how to answer. Mrs Harrington isn't exactly a frequent topic of conversation - if at all, for that matter.

"Is Dad calling Ganma?" Joanie's eyes light up at the enquiry.

If Eddie was feeling mean enough, he'd blame all of this on Dustin and Suzie. Traditionally they all spend Mother's Day doting over Claudia, aka, Joanie's precious Ganma (a toddler mispronunciation turned official familial title). But this year Dustin was far too busy with work to take time off, let alone a weekend plus a few days, so Claudia took it upon herself to travel to them. And, with Nancy and Robin back in Hawkins visiting Karen Wheeler, Eddie was left with Steve and Joanie in the city for Mother's Day weekend.

In hindsight, he should have called up Wayne to come for a fun-filled Pa-centric weekend instead.

Joanie walks over to the couch expecting an answer.

"Oh, uh. No, honey," he splutters, "Dad is calling his mom."

His daughter frowns, "Oh."

Yeah, kid. 'Oh' is an understatement.

Eddie pats the empty space next to him and Joanie reaches up with grabby hands, wanting uppies. He obliges.

Joanie fiddles with the buttons on the front of her unicorn-patterned onesie, lost in thought for a long while before cutting the silence with a heartbreaking, "He'll be happier when we call Ganma."

Eddie reaches for his notebook, deciding on writing his mom a verse about this blessing of a kid.

Steve soon comes back, hanging up the phone without a word and sets about making lunch. Eddie quickly scoops up Joanie and plops her on the floor to resume her colouring.

"Steve?" he asks tentatively as he practically tiptoes to the kitchen.

"What?" Steve snaps, tone biting.

He fusses with the twist tie at the top of their loaf of bread, not really committing to any of the sandwich-making efficiency he typically possesses.

"We could go out for lunch?" Eddie suggests, immediately regretting it.

"What, so we can see everyone celebrating Mother's Day? Even though my mom hates me? I shouldn't have done that... Idiot... Stupid."

Steve shakes his head.

"Sweetheart."

"I'm sorry," he whispers, voice throaty and strained, "Today is worse for you. I just set myself up to be upset."

He looks up, teary-eyed.

Eddie chops his hand through the air between them, insistent, "Completely difference circumstances, Stevie," he takes his hand and tugs, "Come sit down, I'll make us some lunch in a bit, yeah?"

They turn to exit the kitchen and are faced with Joanie, clutching her colouring book to her chest while Blondie and a surprisingly not lost Meatloaf circle her feet.

"Can we call Ganma now?"

Okay, so this kid is absolutely a precious little bean, a blessing who is the light of Eddie and Steve's lives in ways they can barely articulate sometimes.

But she often lacks the ability to read the room as she escorts her battalion of cats around the apartment.

Eddie could blame the sheer amount of time Joanie spends with Robin 'I Don't Have A Strong Grasp of Social Cues' Buckley, but he knows he is the exact goddamn same.

Steve pinches his nose before removing his glasses to rub at his eyes, "Yeah, baby, we can call Ganma."

He recovers enough to check his watch, needing to extend his arm almost fully to see it. Meanwhile, Eddie quickly shoos Joanie back to the living room as he picks up the phone.

They let Joanie take the reins, watching on from the couch as she excitedly recounts her week at preschool to Claudia (and she spoils the gift they had bought that is currently in transit while she's at it).

Eddie feels Steve sinks down in his seat and lean into his side.

"You wanna talk about it?" Eddie asks, trying to remain casual by doodling in the margins of his now-finished poem.

"Maybe later," Steve breathes heavily.

"We aren't doing this again, staying here. We'll at least see Wayne for the weekend."

Before Steve can argue, Joanie is waving the phone in Steve's face. He takes it and sniffles.

"Happy Mother's Day, Claudia," he says, clearing his throat, "I love you."

Whatever Claudia says in return, it's enough to make Steve smile.

more of this informal au HERE

#i'll get back to some nonsense soon i promise (and shorter stuff wtf is with my excessive word count atm)#whyyy do i feel guilty writing steddie as being saaaad 😭#steddie as girl-dads #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie ficlet #trans eddie munson #steve harrington's parents #claudia henderson #claudia henderson 🐈

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a-french-coconut · 5 days

Text

Athena x Ares

She looks with disdain at the war unfolding below her.

So much carnage, so much mortality.

Ares must be basking in the bloodbath he created.

Her half-brother unfurls mixed emotions within her being.

What they share in common is what divide them.

Athena is tactical, she is who whispers in the mind of generals about great plans. She stands from afar, away from the front line.

Ares is a soldier on that front line, he is covered in blood while he fights alongside the mortals.

He is brutal, fearless, rushing into combat before she has time to design a plan worthy of victory.

And no matter how much he hates it, he embodies the soldiers who obey the generals she guides.

In the spectrum of war, they stand at the opposite of each other.

Her eyes narrow when she sees him amongst the soldiers.

He is not allowed to mingle on a such level and he knows it.

So does their father, whose punishments are not to deal with slightly.

Ares, the King is watching you.

She sees him stiffen, clearly debating if his soldier's life are worth what awaits him, but he does not vanish from the battlefield.

Ares, you fool, come back on Olympus now !

Her hands grip her spear tightly as dark clouds gather right above her brother who he still standing amongst the mortals.

He will kill them if you stay.

Thunder rumbles, the last warning from their father before he acts on.

Ares disappears in flash and the storm is avoided.

"Why must you always be so defiant ?" She asks to him, feeling his presence behind her.

He shrugs, placing his shield next to her spear, and watches with her the battle.

"They will lose without me." He says, hands gripping the balcony, "it's not fair."

"It's war."

"And yet Father prohibits me from intervening, in my own domain." He snarls, the balcony reduced to dust.

"Our domain," she corrects him, "we both share war in this pantheon, Ares."

He laughs, a mirthless sound showing his blood stained teeth.

"Your definition of war is pathetic."

Anger rises in her as she turns to face him.

"I'm not the one relishing in carnage and blood."

She takes a step forward, fury boiling in her at the insult.

"If one of us is pathetic, Ares, it's you." She snarls, ignoring the clenching of his jaw, "Unable to control your very domain. And do not forget that your precious soldiers are my generals' pawns to move as they see fit."

His red eyes flash, an aura of rage glowing around him as he refuses to back down and also gets closer.

"You call me bloodthirsty but do you even hear yourself ?" He hisses. "Calling them pawns, as if they are mere objects to move around !"

"You're a hypocrite Athena, a prideful goddess boasting about protecting heroes when in reality you send to die the real heroes."

He's screaming at her, towering over her as his divine essence shows.

"I can't believe I spent the last eons loving you !" He roars, whole body trembling with fury.

His words are a shock, a spear piercing her heart.

He is silent, tense and looking everywhere but her.

She waits for him to back track, to justify himself but he stubbornly doesn't say anything.

"You-"

"Yes." He cuts her, "I love you." he repeats with a certain sadness and resignation.

"You can't imagine how much I hated myself for it." He chuckles bitterly, "to love you as you embody everything I stand against, the massacre of soldiers as if they didn't matter, the generals safe in their bunkers are they watch, not a drop of blood staining their clothes."

"Ares," she says with caution, "I have sworn an oath of virginity, one I take very seriously and that I don't intend to break-"

"I never expected from you to do so." He sighs, picking up his shield. "Love doesn't have to be carnal, in my eyes at least."

"I... I wouldn't have expected that from you."

"I stopped trying to impress you a long time ago." He shrugs, "There was no point in trying when I already knew you despised me for what I represent."

Ares gives her a bitter smile, tinted with sadness.

"Nobody loves war, after all."

Her mind is in a frenzy, trying to compute his words and the fact that he's leaving.

She is unprepared for the yearn in her heart when she sees him leave.

They stand at the opposites of war.

What's that phrase Aphrodite rants about every time an unlikely couple is formed ?

Opposites attract.

"I do." She whispers, "I love war."

Somehow, the wind carries her words and Ares stops walking.

When he turns, there is a vulnerability she has never seen in his eyes.

"I'm not one of your pawn, Athena," he warns her, "if this is a game for you, don't even try to include me."

"It's not a game," she says firmly, "I do feel something for you."

She gets closer to him, since he is glued to his spot.

"We are both patrons of the same domain," she reasons, "it is natural for us to have a special bond."

"As long as you respect my vows, I am ready to love you Ares. And I suppose we can still have demigods children."

"You don't mind that I sleep with mortal women ?" He asks surprised, "or men ?"

"As long as it purely physical, no."

Quick as the wind, she conjures her spear and place it under his throat.

"Should you dare break those conditions while you are with me, you will regret it I assure you." She threatens him.

Ares only smiles, a dangerous glint in his eyes.

"Is fighting going to be our love language ?" He conjures his own spear and shield, deflecting her attack.

Athena takes a defensive stance, waiting for Ares to make the first move.

"I hope you don't mind losing." She taunts him.

"Not against you."

She rolls her eyes, even though she blushes, and block with Aegis Ares' strike.

"How do you think our family is going to take the news ?" She asks him, making a jab at his unprotected side.

"I think Artemis is going to kill me." He groans, dodging her spear.

"I won't let her." She slams him with her shield, sending him on the ground.

He kicks her, making her lost balance and falling too as he gets up.

He is stronger than her physically, but she is more strategic.

Instead of trying to get up, she grabs him and pulls him down.

He is too surprised to respond when she kisses him.

It's quick, just long enough for her to straddle him and place a knife under his throat.

"I win." She says smugly.

He doesn't respond, still dazed.

"Men, all it takes is a kiss." She scoffs, getting up.

"We should fight more often." He offers, still on the ground.

"And we will," she answers, amused, "but right now, we have a meeting to attend. Get up."

When they enter the room at the same time, Aphrodite blows a kiss to Athena, the goddess of love squealing quietly, earning herself a weird look from Artemis.

#percy jackon and the olympians #pjo #percy jackson #heroes of olympus #athena #ares #athena x ares

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bungalowbear · 8 months

Text

The Curse of Mother Grime

Pairing: jobless!Naoya Zen’in x fem!reader

Summary: A museum date with Naoya produces unwanted circumstances.

Warnings: mention of male masturbation, some foreplay, suggestion of sex at the end, reader is described to have breasts, curse from a dead woman, naoya can’t get it up

Word Count: 2,740

A/N: This is my fun and silly little entry for @bastardblvd’s House of Slimy Horrors Collab. My prompt was curses. This is my first time writing Naoya, so if you feel anything is ooc it probably is. You’re also seeing him at arguably his lowest point lol. Also, I have an obsession with Grime Town McDonald’s, so I couldn’t stop myself from adding it here. I had so much fun writing this and I hope you all enjoy! And happy haunting season!

Dividers by @anlian-aishang.

The Grime Town History Museum is a spare room on the second floor of City Hall, a donation from some sunglasses model during his failed attempt at running for Mayor. You’re here with Naoya because it’s your turn to choose where to have date night and you think he can use some cultural enrichment.

“A museum?”

Naoya frowns, staring at the tattered banner above the double doors.

“I’ve always wanted to have a cute museum date.” You do a little spin to show off the outfit you meticulously chose for the occasion. “And it’s my turn to pick so you can’t back out.”

“Whatever.”

Naoya throws his arm across your shoulders and you both walk through the open doors. You take in the state of the room. The floral patterned wallpaper is faded, peeling at the top corners. There’s a large rust colored stain in the carpet that you take care to walk around. The subtle damp smell makes your sinuses feel a bit stuffy.

But you’re determined not to show any signs of discomfort, instead opting to guide Naoya along the wall lined with old newspaper clippings thumb tacked to the walls. Some are older and some more recent. You both share a laugh over the article about the Condom Shortage of 2007.

After perusing the newspaper articles you cross the room toward the only thing on the wall that’s not pinned. A sepia toned portrait of a woman hangs in a bronzed frame. The plaque below her portrait says she was the wife of Grime Town’s founding father. To the right there’s a vanity secured by caution tape. The vanity is made of dark wood with a large oval mirror. The piece was clearly made by expert hands as the floral carvings around the mirror are stunning.

Naoya notices a piece of paper stapled to the caution tape and bends down to read it.

“Beware: if you look into the mirror and say her name three times you’ll be afflicted with the same curse she put on her husband,” Naoya recites.

He hums, standing up straight.

“That’s a little…weird,” you say.

“Dare me to do it?”

“I don’t know.” You bend down the reread the sign. “It doesn’t even say what the curse is. What if you go bald?”

“It’s probably just a scare tactic. It is almost Halloween.” Naoya scoffs. “Nothing’s gonna happen.”

Before you can protest further, Naoya stands directly in line with the vanity. He squats down to be at eye level with the mirror and says her name three times. You hold your breath, waiting for something to happen. After a long minute of nothing you startle, heart racing when Naoya suddenly lets out a booming laugh.

“See. I told you,” Naoya says through his laughter. “Nothing happened.”

You grab his arm, scolding him for scaring you. But he ignores you and continues laughing as you pull him along to the next display.

The next day you’re at Spirit Halloween for your early afternoon shift when your phone vibrates in your back pocket. You ignore it as you help two teenagers decide between matching devil or lumberjack costumes. Eventually they decide to just get one each. After they’re gone you realize your phone hasn’t stopped buzzing, so you ask your manager if you can step away from the sales floor to use the restroom.

When you turn the lock on the stall door you take out your phone. A picture of Naoya asleep with drool sliding down the corner of his mouth lights up your screen. You swipe to answer the call and wince when his voice pierces through the speaker. But his words are coming out too fast for you to make sense of them.

“Slow down, Naoya,” you tell him. “I can’t understand what you’re saying.”

You hear him take a deep breath.

“I was watching Days of Our Grimes and you know I like to stick my hand down by boxers when the housewife—”

You growl into the receiver. “Get to the point.”

“I can’t get hard.”

You pause, brow furrowing as your mind processes his words.

“What?”

“Don’t make me say it again,” he whines.

“I don’t understand.”

“My dick is broken! Mother Grime fucking cursed me!”

“Naoya.” You sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose. “This isn’t funny. I’m at work.”

“I’m not joking,” he insists. “This is serious!”

“I have to get back. We’re really busy. Halloween is in a week and the entire store is half off.”

“But—”

“I’ll see you in a few hours,” you promise as you’re about to end the call. “Bye!”

After his stint as a dealer went sideways Naoya spends most of his time moping around your apartment, which is why you’re certain the phone call was just a cry for attention. You feel a little bad about hanging up on him so you decide to surprise him.

When you step into your apartment you slip your shoes off and hang up your jacket.

“Naoya,” you call out to him. “I’m back.”

There’s no answer.

“Naoya?”

You hold the plastic bag to your chest as you wander through the living room and the kitchen with no sign of him. Shuffling down the narrow hallway, you reach your bedroom to find the door wide open. You frown at Naoya face down on your bed with his arms and legs spread out like a starfish.

“Hey.” You try to turn him over but he doesn’t budge. “What are you doing?”

You can’t make out what he says as he mumbles, kind of pathetically, into your comforter. You try moving him again but this time you can feel him purposefully resisting. You huff, rolling your eyes before going into the bathroom.

Locking the door behind you, you place the plastic bag on the counter and take out the costume you brought home. With the sale going on and your employee discount it was practically free. You feel giddy as you start to undress and then slip into the costume. You take a look at yourself in the mirror, applying gloss to your lips and touching up your mascara before opening the bathroom door.

“Naoya.”

You say his name softly, a gentle prod for his attention, as you stand in the doorway with your hands folded in front of your stomach. He doesn’t react, so you try again.

“Naoya, baby?” You voice is sickly sweet with fabricated concern. This wouldn’t be the first time the two of you role-played in the bedroom, and you’re sure once you get him to look your way you’ll have him in your clutches. “Are you not feeling well? Maybe I could nurse you back to health?”

You watch Naoya slowly lift his head, turning slightly to look at you over his shoulder. His eyes widen and he perks up. Hastily, he turns his body to sit up. His gaze travels from the nurse’s cap on your head and down your body clad in a tight white uniform. Naoya stares at your chest, where the top two buttons are left undone to expose more of your cleavage. You turn in a slow circle to give him the opportunity to see the back of the short skirt that barely covers your ass.

Naoya says your name in a breathy whisper. You recognize the lust in his eyes. The way his fingers twitch with the anticipation of grabbing hold of you sends shivers down your body.

You walk toward him and as soon as you’re within reach his hands go directly to your chest, roughly grabbing and squeezing your soft flesh. One hand wanders down to your waist and then to your back. Naoya’s touch travels over the swell of your bum and reaches further to take a large handful of your left cheek. Hungry kisses are pressed along your neck as his touch sets your body ablaze. You need him so badly that you start to palm him through his pants. It usually doesn’t take long to get him hard, but after a few minutes you realize he’s still completely soft.

“Uh…Naoya?”

“I told you.” He drops his head in defeat, words muffled with his face resting between your tits. “I’m fucking cursed.”

“There’s no such thing as curses.”

You chuckle and he grips your waist firmly with both hands in response.

“Then why am I still limp when all I want to do is shove my dick inside you?”

“It’s all in your head.” You soothe your hand over his dyed blonde hair. “We can do other stuff in the meantime.”

“I’m telling you, it’s that bitch—”

Suddenly, a sharp crack makes the two of you jump. You turn your heads to your full length mirror and gape at the glass that is now splintered right down the middle.

“Maybe we should consult an expert,” you say.

Standing at the McDonald’s counter, you greet Aki with a smile and he stoically returns the greeting. Naoya hovers behind you as you order yours and his usual meals. Aki asks if that will be all. You’re prepared to say yes when Naoya lowers his head to whisper in your ear.

Aki raises a brow.

“And a pumpkin pie, please,” you say.

You pay and walk over to the soda fountain. As you’re pouring your drinks you catch the tail end of something crawl underneath a table. You grab Naoya by the hand and lead him toward the corner of the dining room.

You bend down and see Toji and his worm splitting a single french fry.

“Hello, Toji.”

“Hey, gorgeous.” The older man flashes you a cocky smile, stretching the scar on his lip. Then his eyes move to Naoya and he frowns. “What do you want?”

“Did we really have to come and see him?” Naoya asks.

“He’s the best chance at solving your…problem.”

“Little cousin’s got a problem, huh?” Toji sits with his legs crossed. He leans forward to rest his massive forearms over his knees. “And what would that be?”

Naoya hesitates. He sips on his drink and looks away.

You nudge him with your elbow. “Tell him.”

The younger Zen’in pouts. He heaves a giant sigh before turning his head away, muttering out a few words. You roll your eyes. Toji brings his hand up to curve around his ear.

“What was that?”

“My dick can’t get hard,” Naoya hisses, glaring at his cousin. “There. I said it. Happy now?”

Toji laughs, a full bellied laugh. But then his brow furrows and he’s looking at you.

“What do you want me to do about it? Jerk him off?” Toji curls his lip in disgust. “Just because I changed my name to Fushiguro doesn’t mean we’re not still related. Who do you think we are? Targaryens?”

“Ew, babe.” Naoya mimics his cousin’s expression. “Is that what you brought me here for?”

“No, you idiots.” You drag your hand down your face. “Toji ran the fortune telling booth at the summer block party, so he has some experience with the supernatural.”

“Supernatural?” Toji sounds intrigued. “What exactly happened, little cousin?”

Naoya recounts your museum date. He tells Toji about Mother Grime’s vanity, the cracked mirror in your room, and how he hasn’t been able to get an erection since.

“Did you not see the caution tape? The paper stapled to it?” Toji shakes his head at the end of Naoya’s recap. “Every guy in this town knows not to go messing with Mother Grime unless you never want another boner ever again.”

“No one told me!” Naoya argues.

Toji shrugs.

“So can you, like, look into your crystal ball or whatever and tell me how to fix this?”

“Depends.” Toji rubs his chin. “Let’s talk payment.”

“What do you want?”

Toji hums as he contemplates, his cheek resting on his propped up fist as he stares at the floor. After a few short seconds he angles his face up at Naoya. The smile he wears can only mean misery for the younger Zen’in.

“I want your pumpkin pie.”

“I didn’t get a pie,” Naoya denies immediately.

“You always get a pie,” Toji retorts.

Naoya clenches his jaw, annoyed that he’s been caught.

“I’ll buy you another one,” you whisper.

Naoya looks at you out of the corner of his eye, obviously displeased, but one nod from you has some of his tension falling away.

“Fine.”

Toji smiles, victorious, and pats the floor in front of him. Naoya scoots closer, ducking his head to fit underneath the table. You giggle at the sight of the two grown men hunched over to fit in the tight spot.

“Give me your hand,” Toji says.

“What for?”

“I’m going to read your palm.”

Naoya reluctantly does as he’s told. “I thought you used a crystal ball?”

Toji grins, haughtily. “I’m a man of many talents.”

Naoya rolls his eyes.

“So what does my hand say then? What do I have to do?”

Toji hums, turning Naoya’s hand this way and that. The older Zen’in traces a large finger over the lines of his cousin’s palm.

“You’re not going to like it,” Toji warns.

“I don’t care. I’ll do anything.”

Toji chuckles. He knows his cousin means it.

Aki calls out your order and you go to the counter. You eye the cousins warily before going to collect your food. You ask Aki for another pumpkin pie but he says they’re out. You sigh, your head already aching because you know Naoya is going to throw a fit.

Naoya walks into the living room with a sour expression. You snicker as he pulls down at the hem of the puffed out skirt of the maid costume.

“It’s too short,” Naoya complains. “It barely covers anything.”

“Just the way you like it,” you tease.

He throws you a glare before snatching the feather duster off the low table. Per Toji’s instructions, Naoya is to be your maid for three days. One day for each time he chanted Mother Grime’s name. And lucky for you the first two days happens to be on your days off.

So you watch from the sofa as he cleans the apartment. Sweeping, scrubbing, dusting. You ask him for the occasional refill on your snacks and he dutifully, yet begrudgingly, fulfills your every request. Watching him cook is even more enjoyable. After he burned the rice he opted instead to prepare instant ramen.

When you go back to work on the third day you expect Naoya to have shirked his duties but when you get home he greets you at the genkan. The apartment is spotless. There’s dinner ready for you. Ramen again, but this time with a thick piece of ham and a soft boiled egg split between your two bowls. You’re very impressed and you tell him so, not missing the way his eyes shine from the praise.

The morning after the third day you wake up to something hard pressing against your back. You don’t recognize it for what it is until Naoya suddenly gasps and sits up in bed. He shoves the covers down, leaving you shivering at the sudden cold air, and lifts the waistband of his boxers.

“Yes!”

“N’oya,” you whine, blindly grabbing the cover and pulling it over your head. “I’m tryna sleep.”

“But, babe, I’m cured. We can do it now!”

His excitement would be endearing if it weren’t so early in the morning. You burrow further into the mattress, intent on ignoring him and hoping he’ll just take care of himself.

“C’mon.” You feel his large presence hover over you. “It’s been so long and I really want my first time again to be with you.”

You groan in protest.

“I can put the maid costume on.” Naoya pauses. His eyes meet yours when you peek your eyes out from under the cover. “Don’t think I didn’t notice you checking me out. Or how much you liked bossing me around.”

He looks down at you in silence. Then a smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth when you drop the cover to expose the rest of your face.

“Okay,” you agree. “But you have to make me breakfast after.”

Naoya leaps out of bed and into the closet. You smile to yourself as you watch him change into the costume, frantic and desperate to finally put his rehabilitated member to use again, and send a silent thanks to Mother Grime.

#catalog #zenin naoya x reader #naoya zenin x reader #zenin naoya #naoya zenin #slimeballs

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bronx-bomber87 · 1 year

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Mid Week Review. Was able to watch the ep last night and jot down my thoughts. After this one only have 5 left in S1. Wild. Off we go.

1x15 Manhunt

The cold open is too funny. The "commercial" is hilarious LOL Poor Lucy struggled the most in it with her lines. They all find out they were pranked and it wasn't real. Lucy looking back and getting that reaction from Tim. I am dying haha Lucy is so embarrassed and slightly mortified. Not Tim he’s having a good time with this haha

Once again enjoying himself far too much at her displeasure hehe Who is this man? Not the Tim she had in very beginning that's for sure. Making jokes, being a goober, and laughing with the other T.O.'s having a grand old time. She really did this to herself ha I love it so much. I mean look at this man and his beautiful smile. He is having a blast and it shows. Truly a wonder to behold I gotta say.

Ep kicks off strong. There is a prison escape from a transport bus so Tim and Lucy are on the hunt. They round up one guy right away. Make quite the entrance saying there is only 6 left. I love this shot for the height difference between them. Always loved their tall/small thing. Makes me happy. I can't really explain why other than it does.

Afterwards they are assigned inside the search grid canvassing neighborhoods and such. Telling people who are out to stay indoors for now. They run into a little neighborhood militia not long after. They say they’re defending their neighborhood. The body language they both give to these dopes LOL. It's too damn good. If they could eye roll any harder with how they react to them they would haha These idiots try and do a citizens arrest for a gardener. Tim and Lucy both lay into them like a tag team. Getting them to back off and beat it. So fun to watch honestly.

Tim ends it with telling them if they see them out again they’ll get arrested. Cracks me up Lucy calls him on what the codes he used to scare them. She just can't help herself. Tim making jokes and being a sassy pants with her I adore it. Her little smile at him when he says ‘They don’t know that.’ it’s a theme in this one for Lucy. Just looking at Tim with smiles/heart eyes. I’m here for it.

Feds are involved much to Tim's dismay. Using their tactics to locate the remaining escaped prisoners. Everyone splits off after their debrief with them. Lucy and Tim go back to station to meet up with an informant of Tim’s. Says he'll know about one of the escaped convicts. Used to be in the gang the 54 who this prisoner is currently affiliated with. As they're walking up to meet his informant Lucy is asking about predictive analytics. It was brought up earlier in their meeting and Tim disagreed with its method.

So of course Lucy is going to probe more about it. Tim explains how it’s not as good as hitting the streets. That Feds rather use a computer than scuff their loafers. He’s so passionate about what he does and how he does things in patrol. Just look at her face above while he’s explaining why his way better than the fed's computer. She knows it’s something he’ll fiercely defend. Something he takes seriously and a little personally.

It’s why when Lucy tries to play devils advocate on the subject he asks her who’s side she’s on? Clearly not pleased with her defending this computer vs what he considers real police work. Lucy has learned where to pick her battles with Tim. She knows when to push something and when not to. This was not one of them. Lucy is adorable and says she didn’t know there were sides...but she’s on his definitely his LOL damn they cute.

Lucy instantly likes Deacon because he’s apart of Tim’s past. Something she has very little insight into other than Isabel. So she’s all over it when Deacon tells her he knew Tim when he was a rookie. Tim isn't loving this conversation. Its like the sign at the zoo. 'Don't feed the animals.' How Tim is feeling with this interaction haha He's putting up a sign says 'Don't feed Lucy details.' haha Deacon tells Tim that he likes her. Tim rolls his eyes and says he’s ‘Thrilled.’ You know you are sir. He’s proud of Lucy and the fact she's his rookie. Don't lie Timothy. Deacon continues by saying every time he see's Tim it's like a time machine for him.

I do adore Tim’s reaction when Deacon says only thing that's changed is the lines on his face. He's slightly offended by this. I love the way he looks at Lucy. Like checking in she still thinks he’s a handsome man. It’s ok love, you very much are. Just look at the heart eyes she’s giving you. Case and point above and below.

Also Lucy, girl you are at work. Put those things away madam haha She’s as transparent as glass and makes my heart happy. If her goal is to hide her attraction/admiration she is failing pretty hard lmao Like an open book this one. I do think she is really enjoying this guy razzing him so much. Just like Tim at the beginning of the episode she is relishing in his discomfort. What a pair these two.

Tim has a small talk with Angela before they leave. Asking if he’s changed at all since she’s met him. He's clearly more shaken up from his convo with Deacon then he originally lead on. Angela makes a crack and says he’s gotten more annoying. Ha poor Tim. He asks her to be more serious. She replies the Isabel situation changed him. He asks her if its for the better or not? Breaks my heart he doesn’t see the changes in himself. But he is seeing/sensing he needs to change something up though. Angela's reply to this all is the best part. This line right here is my fav of the scene.

Since he met Lucy Chen, Angela. Ever since he met her. Does things he never did before. Like this introspection. Before he would've shrugged that convo off. Buried it deep inside like he did everything else before. Put it in a little box never to be opened again. With her influence in his life he takes that convo little more to heart. Tim has no idea the amount he’s changed just from knowing her. The small things that if you’re not paying attention you’d miss. S1 has been incredible growth for his character.

I do love Angela's last shot at him as Tim and Lucy are leaving. That sweet little smile he gives when he hears Angela’s reply. I’ve always loved their friendship. She truly is one of his best friends. This scene is a good display of that. Of them being close. Being serious when needed but mainly giving each other shit haha Lucy looks confused but not unhappy he’s happy.

Tim and Lucy arrive at the house of Tim's informant. He’s currently protecting the prisoner they talked about. Unfortunately the gang he’s pissed off is waiting for them upon arrival. Nolan’s situation with his fugitive has taken most of their resources. So it’s just them against a whole gang to protect his informant and the prisoner. Lucy starts to get nervous when the gang begins wrecking their shop. Tim makes a joke it'll be a lot of paperwork for her. Lucy doesn't bite at the joke. You can see how nervous she is. She asks if at some point they give the 54 what they want. Weighing one life against the lives of many. Do they need to make that hard call?

Tim's reply is excellent. That strong sense of justice shining through in this moment. He can see Lucy isn't comfortable with their odds at all. Has to remind her like he did back in 1x11. That this is their job. What they signed up for. He's doing what he does best with her. Being her pillar while also injecting logic into the scenario they are currently in. He can sense her unease and is trying to alleviate it.

What I love most about this scene is Tim’s moral compass and bravery. It’s something Lucy most definitely likes as well. Also what she needs at this point in time. She's in awe of him when she says You’re willing to die for that guy? It’s in her inflection. She’s so impressed he would be willing to lay down his life for him. His reply to her cements this even further. The way he delivers his line. Phew lord. I think Lucy just fell a little more in love with him right here. She already been giving him heart eyes all day. This increased them ten fold. The way he stands up and lets Lucy see that confidence. How he refuses to let the 54 shake his resolve. He won’t let fear dictate what he knows is right.

The awe struck wonder in her eyes for him. My goodness. Earlier Angela brought up how Tim has grown since Isabel. This is further proof of that. He won’t ever allow fear to let him do something he would be ashamed of in the light of day. Amazing how much he's grown since that moment in 1x07. When his moral compass is on fire like it is right now, I think Lucy’s respect/admiration (and honestly her attraction) grows the most for Tim.

She’s getting a peak into Tim at his core. Who he is as a person. You can tell she very much likes what she sees. Nothing more attractive than a man with a plan and strong in his convictions IMO. Also who is confident in what he’s doing. Lucy needs to see that right now as she is rattled by the uneven numbers in their situation.

Deacon decides to go out and talk to them. They start to beat him up. Tim tells Lucy to stay inside. To protect their prisoner at all costs no matter what happens to him. Tim goes out to reason with the gang. To take the heat off Deacon and onto himself. Eventually the calvary shows up for them. Tim gets to look like a bad ass when they do. The way he says he’s never alone or out numbered. *fans self* always love me some confident Tim. I’ll take that all damn day.

This look between them speaks volumes. It shows the trust and bond that’s been built between them. She was worried and rightfully so but he kept her calm. He was steadfast for them both and she trusted in that. Leaned on him. She knew he would get them out of this situation and he did. That nod of his is Tim’s way of acknowledging all that. Thanking her for trusting him. That beautiful unspoken connection is on full display in this moment. Lucy is beaming from that nod. I love them so much. The ep ends for them there as far as scenes together go.

Tim's final scene is in Grey's office. That introspection Tim does leads him to decide to go for Sergeant. Says he's ready to take that next step. Grey asks what took him so long haha Lets him know it's going to require a lot of studying to prep. I LOVE this. We all know what moment this leads to. The impact Lucy has on his life is so immense. Lead him down this path. Makes me happy.

Always thank you all for your likes/comments/reblogs. These reviews are so fun for me to do. Even more so knowing others are enjoying it as well. See you all in 1x16 :)

#Caitlin rewatches The Rookie #chenford #chenford hiatus #summer rewatch #waiting on s6 #s1 #1x15 Manhunt #the rookie #tim x lucy #tim bradford #lucy chen #lucy x tim #eric winter #melissa o'neil #otp: doing my job #tim bradford x lucy chen

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the12thnightproject · 22 days

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Chapter Six: Mitsunari POV (gacha) - The Closed Door Conumdrum - We peek inside Mitsunari's brain and discover he's not nearly as absentminded as he seems. Ok. Not as absentminded.

Mitsunari x OC; Nobunaga x Mai

Previous Chapter

Logline - In order to protect a political alliance, Katusko and Mitsunari must pretend an engagement. But this “all business” arrangement is threatened by a coup against Nobunaga… and by feelings.

From the Military Notes of Ishida Mitsunari…

Accurate communication is essential on the battlefield. The ‘fog of war’ can create confusion, cause errors, and even be the cause of self-inflicted casualties. It is essential that prior to a battle beginning, clear lines and methods of communication are established.

Personal comments: Lady Okatsu is willing to eat my carrots, which is a promising development for our alliance.

Additional Note One: Lord Hideyoshi saw the above note and reminded me that carrots are good for me and that I should eat them.

Additional Note Two: Lord Masamune also saw the above and asked me if “willing to eat my carrots” was a euphemism. Am unsure what he meant.

The words of the book he was reading wavered before his eyes, then disappeared. No. It was dark. Everything had gone dark again. Dark and …

Mitsunari reached up and removed the scarf that had been tossed over his head. Mitsuhide stood in front of him, holding a tray that contained several dishes of food (including a main dish that held far too many carrots) and jar of something that looked sticky. Was that a new dessert? And why had Mitsuhide delivered his meal? He dipped a finger in the sticky substance and brought it to his mouth.

“I wouldn’t if I were you. It’s unlikely to kill you, but I doubt the effects would be at all pleasant.” Mitsuhide put the entire tray into his hands. “It’s salve, for Okatsu’s eye.”

“Is she in here?” Mitsunari glanced around the archive room, but the only other occupant was Mitsuhide.

“No. You are to deliver this to Okatsu – I’m certain, that she at least, must be hungry by now.” Mitsuhide paused for a moment, then seemed to come to a decision. “I told the maid not to bring her evening meal.”

Why had he done that? Mitsunari was aware that Hideyoshi was upset with all of them, but it was unfair of Mitsuhide to only punish Lady Okatsu. He was also certain that Hideyoshi was unaware that Okatsu wasn’t being fed.

After another long moment, Mitsuhide eventually answered his unasked question. “In order for the charade of an engagement to succeed, you and Okatsu need to figure out how to act like a couple in love.”

Love? Mitsunari liked Lady Okatsu, but he didn’t have the slightest idea how to behave as if he loved her. “What is the best tactic for love? Where would I begin?”

“You need to spend more time with her. Starting tonight. Lovers enjoy sharing a meal together.” He tapped at one of the dishes on the tray. “Lovers converse. Often, they casually touch each other – as Nobunaga and Mai do.”

I wouldn’t be so impolite as to touch her!

Mitsunari’s panic at that instruction must have shown on his face, for Mitsuhide softened his tone. “It is for you and Okatsu to decide for yourselves what feels the most natural.” Mitsuhide gave Mitsunari a light push toward the door. “Having a frank conversation would be the best place to start.”

Lady Okatsu’s door was shut. Mitsunari looked at the tray in his hands and wondered how to slide it open without dropping anything. If he were being honest with himself, he was surprised he’d managed to carry the tray from the archive room without incident.

Well. There must be a trick to it. Maids did this every day and he’d not heard any of them drop trays. But maybe they did? Maybe dropped trays was an ongoing issue that needed solved. What if they were to build small tables outside of each room? That way one could put the tray down, open the door, then pick the tray up again.

Although such a solution might take a while.

Perhaps he should talk to Lady Mai and discuss having the maids deliver meals in teams of two, so that there would always be someone to open the door. Though that would be a waste of manpower, would it not? What if each dinner tray came equipped with an attached stick that could be used as a lever to pull the door open? He was halfway through the schematics of such an invention before he realized that Lady Okatsu’s food was getting cold. Maybe she would open the door for him. “Lady Okatsu?”

He heard her rustling around. “Come on in.”

That… solved nothing.

He started to shift the tray to one hand. It tipped precariously.

Thankfully, before disaster struck, Lady Okatsu slid open the door, let him inside and immediately cleared a space for him to set down the tray. He appreciated her ability to understand what was needed without verbal instructions. It was a good quality to have in a warrior.

Not that she was a warrior. Tonight, she was a civilian, and a wounded one at that. As it had been his slow reaction time that had allowed her to get injured, he owed her an apology. “I’m sorry for-”

“I need to apologize for-” she said at the same time.

“I’m sorry-” Wait… Should he also apologize for interrupting? “I’m sorry you were hurt.” Her eye had turned purple and looked swollen and painful. At the last moment, he realized he’d been about to touch it, and quickly pulled his hand back. “I should have protected you.”

“Oh, no. It wasn’t your fault. I shouldn’t have gone over there in the first place… and once the fighting started, I should have stayed out of your way. It’s my fault. I didn’t think.” She looked away from him, and Mitsunari realized that Mitsuhide had been correct – the two of them did need to learn how to communicate. Not simply to portray love, but at more importantly to be able to cooperate during this mission.

However, medical aid was the first order of business. He handed her the salve and the cloth. “For your injury. Ieyasu makes it.” Second order of business? Determine what had happened at the restaurant. Lady Okatsu didn’t come across as particularly flighty. “Why did you go to talk to the sailors? You must have had a good reason.”

There was a battered, and unfortunately food splattered drawing on the desk. It was a sketch of a young man, who, from the shape of his face, could be related to Lady Okatsu. “My brother is missing, and the last information I had about him was that he had been imprisoned on a ship of some kind. So, whenever I see sailors – I ask. But normall… Normally they answer my questions.”

She moved the portrait aside and picked up the ointment. After taking a cautious sniff, she dipped her finger in and swiped it across her cheek… missing most of the injury entirely.

He ought to assist her. Perhaps this was what Mitsuhide meant by ‘casual touch.’ “You missed a spot – let me help.”

Lady Okatsu hesitated a moment before sitting down on the futon. She turned her face to him and shut her eyes.

It wasn’t as if he’d never treated battlefield wounds before – but the hurried ‘patch them up and move on’ atmosphere of a medical tent was different from this peaceful summer evening. It was so quiet he could hear the buzzing of the cicadas and the setting sun shone through the window at just the right angle to highlight a hint of red in Lady Okatsu’s hair. Though he knew nothing about women’s hairstyles, he suspected it wasn’t supposed to look like that, with pieces of it falling out of the complicated knot. He liked it though - it made her look a bit more approachable.

Right. The salve. He knelt next to her, dunked his fingers in the jar, and… was that too much? Better too much than too little. He transferred the ointment to her face, doing his best to spread it all over her wound before that extra glob slid-

Oops.

Lady Okatsu shivered.

“Did I hurt you?” Maybe he was putting it on wrong. He reminded himself again that Lady Okatsu wasn’t truly a warrior, for all that she was fierce and efficient.

“No.” She lightly touched the now-oily wound. “It tickled, actually.”

Hm. He had indeed put too much on. He didn’t think it was supposed to look shiny, it ought to sink in. Better try to rub it in a little more. But… now his fingers were all oily too. He tried to get the last of it with his palm, and -

Interesting.

The curve of her face fit exactly into his hand, as if her cheek and his palm were pieces of a puzzle. “There. Done.”

She opened her eyes and Mitsunari realized their faces were too close. And he was still touching her. Mitsuhide’s instructions or not, this did not feel like the prescribed ‘casual touch.’ He jerked his hand away and jumped to his feet.

Lady Okatsu reached up and brushed her fingers across her face in the spot where his palm had been a moment earlier, and he had the strangest urge to put his hand back again. She cleared her throat. “Thank you.”

You’re welcome. But the words stuck in his throat, so he smiled and bowed. He should leave. Yes. It was time for him to leave. This was enough getting-comfortable for him.

Her words stopped him at the door. “Wait. Have you eaten?”

Hm. He had not. Right. Eating together was what Mitsuhide had intended.

She beckoned him back inside. “There’s more than enough for two people.”

Yes, this was obviously true, although… “Yes. If you promise to eat all the carrots. I do not like them.”

She laughed. “Sure – if you do the same with the mushrooms.”

Perhaps that was part of what ‘love’ was. Finding someone who would eat the food you did not like. He settled down at the writing desk and watched as she divided up the dishes, keeping the carrots for herself, and transferring the mushrooms into his bowl. It might be a good idea to keep a list of things he liked about Lady Okatsu, so that if he were questioned about the truth of their relationship, he would be able to respond without hesitation.

She eats my carrots.

She is interested in military strategy.

She made sure that books didn’t fall on my—

In that instant, the memory of Lady Okatsu moving the pile of books this morning was replaced with the memory of the elderly bookseller moving a similar stack earlier this summer. He might not be good with names, but he was good with faces and… yes. He was certain that several weeks ago Lady Okatsu had been in Azuchi. And she had been disguised as an old man. Which potentially meant that… “Are you a spy?”

She paused, her food halfway between her bowl and her mouth, and looked warily at him. “No. Why are you asking?”

Best to simply get it all out in the open. “Because you were in Azuchi a few months ago dressed as an old man.”

“How did you know?” She must have determined that she was ok with him knowing because she returned to eating.

“When we met, you were familiar, but I couldn’t remember where I had seen you. Then, today in the bookstore, when you moved those books before they fell, I realized you had done that before.” And… having put together Lady Okatsu and the old man, he suddenly realized she had also been the young man he met outside the castle yesterday morning. Interesting.

She seemed nonchalant about the whole thing. “Yes, that was me. But I wasn’t spying. I mean, to me, spying is sneaking into some place and stealing information that they don’t want anyone to know about, right? I was observing things that anyone could have seen if they were paying attention.”

“Hrm.” He didn’t quite agree with her definition of spying, but he supposed part of that would depend on who she passed on her observations to. “What were you doing with the information?”

“Generally, it’s for those people who don’t want to be caught in the path of warring clans.” Either she was pretending she wasn’t worried, or she truly was not worried. Or… Mitsunari simply wasn’t interpreting her emotions well at all? It could be that. Reading people’s emotions wasn’t his strength. Maybe he ought to tell Mitsuhide and have him question her?

That idea made him pause – Mitsuhide had a reputation, a well-earned one, for his harsh interrogations. The thought of Lady Okatsu (or, whoever she was) at Mitsuhide’s mercy made his chest tighten.

But she anticipated that thought too. “In any case, Mitsuhide knows about the booksellers – my employer runs it – and if he had a problem with it, he would have put a stop to it. He uses it himself as a message drop.”

Ah. That was ok then. It seemed that Mitsuhide had taken the time to find the most qualified person to portray his fiancée. Okatsu was a professional observer (to use her word) and Mitsunari could count on her as a colleague, rather than worry she was a spy. “I ought to have realized Mitsuhide had taken this into consideration already.” He relaxed… then noticed there was another dreaded carrot in his bowl. He tossed it at Okatsu’s dish.

Even better, she could be counted on to simply play her role, and act as a rather specialized warrior. She could pretend to be in love without truly being in love. “If you are a professional observer, Okatsu, then you aren’t someone Mitsuhide forced into this charade. Nor are you someone whose feelings could be hurt.”

“Why would my feelings be hurt?” There was a hit of something less-than-professional in her voice. He’d apparently said something wrong. But he couldn’t think what that might be.

Not daring to look at her, he tried to explain without making it worse. “I don’t want to be in love with anyone. I don’t have time for it, and I don’t want you to think-”

“No worries. Once our fake engagement is called off, I’ll go back to being a messenger and a scout, and I really like that job.” A wayward mushroom found its way into his dish. “Anyway, I imagine being a wife would severely limit my ability to search for my brother.”

Good. They seemed to have sorted out… er… whatever it was that he had said. “We are in agreement then?”

“We are.” She smiled at him, and he couldn’t help but smile back, feeling relieved that they could now be friends and fellow soldiers without the danger of feelings getting in the way of things. This was good.

This was exactly what he wanted.

That taken care of, he thought back to Mitsuhide’s suggestion and asked Okatsu (or should she still be Lady Okatsu? Maybe he needed to continue to use the formal, otherwise he might get it wrong when they were public? Although maybe an engaged couple were allowed to be less formal?) about her life as a courier and was rewarded with an interesting story about a time she had had to help a ninja out of a tree.

He sat back and listened to her chatter away knowledgably about politics and military strategy. On one level, he had a feeling that she had chosen her topics because she knew that these were things that interested him, but she had to have some interest herself to be able to speak so confidently about such things. “I witnessed a couple of the battles of the Siege of Itami last year. Was that triple column your formation?”

He nodded. The formation hadn’t been what had proved the deciding point in the campaign, though. They’d won when they filled in the castle’s moat… which had been Mitsuhide’s idea.

Before he could point that out, Lady Okatsu moved on to a different topic. “I bet you’re really good at shogi.”

“I don’t know how to play.” He’d wanted to learn but hadn’t made it a priority. Lord Hideyoshi relied on his battle plans too much for him to take the time to learn a new game on his own and he’d not found anyone willing to teach him.

“I know Mitsuhide plays – half the messages I’ve delivered over the past four years have been a part of a long drawn-out game he’s been playing with Aki.” She picked up a cloth bundle, then unwrapped it to reveal a shogi set. “I could teach you.”

That was an enticing idea. As much as he enjoyed listening to Okatsu’s stories, learning to play shogi sounded even better. If he were playing a game, he would be less stressed to think of things to talk about. “I would enjoy that very much. Mitsuhide has refused to teach me.”

Over the past week, Mitsunari had learned two things. One: he very much liked shogi. Two: Okatsu took defeat remarkably well. Rather than be upset that he’d surpassed her abilities, she instead took it as a challenge to improve her own game. Or games, since they’d branched out to Go and ban-sugoroku.

“You two are playing the less exciting version of Go.” Mitsunari looked up to see that at some point, Lady Mai had come into the room with a bundle of clothing. He’d been so intent on the game he hadn’t heard her enter.

There was a more exciting version? He took a quick peek at Okatsu’s face, but she didn’t appear to be familiar with that either, because she said to Lady Mai, “Alright, since you’re clearly waiting for me to ask – what is the more exciting version?”

“Nobunaga and I play with penalties … and favors.” Lady Mai winked.

“Oh! So, if I were to lose, Okatsu could tell me to eat my carrots?” In the years before he’d been sent to temple to be a page, he had played “Go” with his older brother. The penalties for losing hadn’t been much fun. Luckily, he’d quickly learned how to win, although that hadn’t always stopped the penalties. “That might add an element of daring to the game.”

“Uh, yeah. That.” Lady Mai laughed to herself. “Eep.”

“Serves you right.” Lady Mai and Okatsu seemed to be having a conversation that was flying past him. He wasn’t sure if it was the sort of conversation that Masamune and Mitsuhide took part in, or if this was something that would go into the mysterious vault of “women.” He figured if it was important, Okatsu would tell him later.

Meanwhile, Mai interrupted their game in process by requiring that Okatsu try on her new clothing. While his ‘fiancee’ hurried behind a screen to change, he killed time by setting up a shogi game to play against himself. Then Mai handed him a bundle of fabric as well. “I made a couple new kimonos for you too.”

He hadn’t realized that he’d be receiving a new wardrobe for this journey, but he supposed there might be formal occasions where Lord Hideyoshi would want them all to dress up. Rich clothing was a form of armor, he knew, a way to alert others that your clan had money and enough resources to spend it on luxury.

He peeked inside the bundle and saw the not only the purple hues that he normally picked out on his own (it was simpler for him to acquire clothing that looked similar – less chance of mismatching something), but also something in a dark blue-green shade. He sent an enquiring look at Lady Mai.

“I believe that’s Lady Okatsu’s favorite color,” she said to him softly, and indeed a moment later, Okatsu emerged from behind the screen wearing a complimentary lighter blue-green kimono.

“This is easier to move around in.” She turned from side to side, and the material made a soft swishing sound against her body.

That sound of fabric rustling across her body… it created an echoing vibration in his head, that for a moment blocked out all sound. He shook his head to clear it.

He hoped he wasn’t coming down with something.

When he was able to refocus his attention on the present, it was to see Okatsu swirl around and kick her leg up and out to the side. “This is amazing. Thank you!”

Mai smiled just as the door slid open behind her. “This is what I do. But… don’t tell Hideyoshi.”

Lord Hideyoshi and Lord Mitsuhide came into the room. “Don’t tell Hideyoshi what?”

“How much she spent on the fabric.” Okatsu lied to Hideyoshi so smoothly that if Mitsunari hadn’t known she was lying, he would have believed her. In fact, she possibly was telling a truth, but not the one in question.

And Lord Hideyoshi seemed to accept it without a second thought. “Oh, don’t worry about that. It’s your due as an Oda Princess.”

Mitsunari couldn’t decide how he felt about the lying. As a tactician, he thought her ability could be useful. But personally, he hoped that she never lied to him.

If she did, though, would he even be able to tell?

@bestbryn @katriniac @lyds323 @briars7 @lorei-writes

#TBTMND #a mitsunari night's dream #ikemen sengoku #fanfic #ikesen fanfic #ishida mitsunari #ikesen mitsunari #ikesen mitsuhide #ikesen mai #oc: katsuko #katsuverse #throwback thursday

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next-autopsy · 7 months

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A/N: Well, hi there! Birdie is such a sneak in this chapter, cheeky thing! Hope y'all enjoy it!

Btw the ----- signifies a kind of time skip or scene change.

Based on the actors portrayal/hbo show and written with no disrespect to the real life veterans. Also all images found on Pinterest.

TW: Not many just underaged drinking...

Tags: @malarkgirlypop, @panzershrike-pretz

Made of Glass

Chapter fourteen: Lipstick Stain

In theory; jumping out of a plane was simple.

In reality; the hardest thing Birdie had ever done.

Sure, they spent days training and practicing, but leaping from an elevated platform and hurling your body out of an actual plane were two very different things.

The first jump was daunting, no one knew what it would really be like, but once the initial stomach drop eased, Bernadette was hooked.

A rush of adrenaline hit her and bubbled into joy. The view from above was unlike anything she'd ever seen, and Birdie wished she could capture this moment somehow, remember it till her last days.

On the ground, the girl wrestled with her chute, rolling it up and packing it away before she could leave the area.

That afternoon as the sky tinted orange and pink, Bernadette witnessed a drumming out. She wasn’t aware of the existence of this event until she stood in line and watched it happen.��

Any soldier who refused to jump was transferred out of the Airborne and could not qualify as a Paratrooper.

It broke something in Birdie to see the disheartened faces being marched through the crowd in disgrace. She didn’t want to participate but she didn’t have much of a choice as it was used as a scare tactic to ensure everyone completed their five jumps. If she could, Birdie would have left this disgusting manipulation act.

One face in particular stuck out to her: Barbara Donahue, the woman of Charlie company. She had slept in the cot next to Birdie since their first day in Toccoa and the thought that she wouldn’t be there that night ran shivers down her spine.

Her head was hung in shame, and it boiled Birdies blood. How was this helping anyone? This certainly didn’t boost morale or inspire confidence, why was this allowed to happen?

Bernadette completed the last four jumps alongside her Easy men with no hiccups over the course of two weeks and the night of the fifth and final jump, a celebration was being held for her company to applaud the gaining of their jump wings. It was official.

They were Paratroopers.

Birdie adorned her dress greens; the shirt, tie and jacket were identical to the men's uniform except for some additional tailoring around the waist. She was given brand new, shiny paratrooper boots, which she was now permitted to tuck her trousers into. The women were also given a below the knee pencil skirt option but Bernadette wanted to show off her hard earned boots, so she opted for her trousers.

The woman added a simple red lip to her look and with her meticulously curled hair in an up do style, she was ready to go.

--------------------------------------------

“1000, 2000, 3000, 4000, 5000, 6000, 7000, 8000, 9-” Their rhythmic chant was cut off and replaced by cheers as Bill slammed the empty glass down onto the table. His silver jump wings had been retrieved from the bottom of the drink he chugged, now held between his teeth. Guarnere grinned at his friends, picking the shiny pin out with his fingers before he bellowed, “Heigh-Ho, Silver!” The surrounding men burst into obnoxious roars; Bernadette laughed at the comradery.

Toye stood from the rambunctious collection of men to look in the direction of the bar, he needed at least one more drink to deal with this lot.

“You gettin' ‘nother drink?” Birdie wondered, watching him eye up the other side of the room where she knew the alcohol was coming from.

“Come on, Little Bird.” He rolled his eyes; he knew she had been trying to sneak in a drink all night, but to her chagrin, Lipton and Martin had forbidden her from underaged alcohol consumption. Joe walked with the girl until they reached the bar where he leaned against the wooden countertop and waited to be served. Birdie took a place next to him, brushing her hand down the front of her jacket to flatten any creases that may have formed on the way over.

“Corporal Toye,” a mimic of Sobel’s voice exclaimed, “There will be no leaning in my company.” George Luz, was behind the bar handing out full to the brim glasses to anyone who asked, had made his way over to the pair. Toye straighten up his posture and gave the shorter man a pointed look.

“Are those dusty jump wings?” Luz went on, causing Joe to look down at his newly gained pin. “How do you expect to slay the Huns with dust on your jump wings?” The Pennsylvanian man mock blew the imaginary dust off and shined up the metal on his chest. He’d had enough of the jokesters' chatter; he just wanted a cold drink in his hand and less noise from the man in front of him.

“Luz, just give me a drink.” He pulled George in, so their faces were mere inches away from one another. Birdie’s eyes flicked between the two and her mind wandered, they were awful close.... and then she spotted it. Luz’s vision flits to Toye’s lips for a mere second before finding his eyes again. Her smile dropped from her face, stunned at the small, almost undetectable movement from the barman. It happened so quickly she was sure Toye himself hadn’t noticed.

“Hell of an idea, Joe.” A smile broke out on George’s mouth spanning ear to ear, “There you go.” He had materialized a beer, seemingly from out of thin air and placed it on the counter separating the men. Retrieving his own half-drunk liquid, he toasted the Corporal before him.

“Three miles up, three miles down.”

A voice projected into the room, halting the events of the night and startling every occupant into an upright position, “Ten Hut.” Colonel Sink marched in, followed by two men. All three took a position at the front of the room and Sink began to speak.

“Well, at ease, Paratroopers.” He paused while the room relaxed, “Good evening, Easy company.”

“Evening, sir.” They called back, so loud Birdie almost flinched.

“Now, Parachute Infantry is a brand-new concept in American Military History. But by God, the 506th is gonna forge that brand new concept into victory.” Sink’s southern drawl carried on, awe inspiring the group of men and the single woman.

“Yes, sir.”

“I want you to know I'm dammed proud of each and every one of you.” Sink looked directly at Bernadette. He doesn't call her out by name but the twinkle in his eyes showed more than needed to be said. She found herself grinning at this comment and he nodded once to confirm she understood his meaning correctly.

“Now, you deserve this party.” Chuck handed him a tall glass filled with the pale-yellow liquid everyone was drinking.

“Thank you, Sergeant Grant.” He accepts the gesture as he prepares to toast.

“Sir.” Chuck acknowledges quietly, stepping back into line with his own drink in hand. Every man in the room picked up the nearest glass regardless of whether it was theirs or not to join in the toast. George tapped Birdie on the shoulder, she kept her body in Sink’s direction but turned her head to look at him and was greeted by a full untouched beer. He smiled at her and winked, she took the offered glass gratefully, giving him a wink back.

“So, I want you to have fun.... and remember our motto.... Currahee!” Colonel Sink bellows, raising his drink above his head.

“Currahee!” The entire room hollers back, followed by cheers and whistles. A few men began chugging whatever they had left so they could grab a new drink. Birdie took a few large mouthfuls, shifting her eyes around the room in case Carwood popped out of nowhere to scold her.

The night continued. The chatter flicked on like a light switch and drinks were being downed with ease.

Toye noticed Bernadette polishing off her unlawful beverage and smirked, she had only had it for thirty seconds and it had already vanished.

---------------------------------------

“Bernadette.”

“Carwood.”

“Have you been drinking?”

“Uh....no?”

“Huh... So, this is not your bright red lipstick on the rim of this glass?” There was a long pause, Birdie shifted her focus from the glass to Lipton’s face. He was trying to look stern and disapproving but hidden behind his eyes was amusement. He couldn’t stay mad at the young woman, especially when she was celebrating a momentous accomplishment.

“You know, I think I saw Randleman with this exact shade.” Her comment pulled a hearty chuckle from the Sergeant and he shook his head playfully. He’d let her get away with this for tonight, besides, it was only one drink.

-------------------------------------

It wasn’t just one drink.

Bernadette sneakily took sips from Toye and Guarnere’s glasses when they weren’t looking, making sure to wipe away any lipstick transfer left over. She used her puppy dog eyes to beg George for another beverage and he caved immediately, handing her a heavy pour of whiskey. Towards the end of the night, she found an unattended bottle of liquor that had asked her to adopt it. How could she refuse?

It was some sort of sherry... or maybe port? Honestly, Birdie didn’t really care. She drunk it without question unaware someone was watching her.

Donald Malarkey had seen every sip of alcohol the southern girl had stolen. He didn’t mind the nineteen-year-old drinking and probably would’ve helped sneak her things if she’d asked him, but he noticed she was starting to sway and figured someone should cut her off before she makes a fool of herself or gets in trouble. He made his way through the crowd and stopped by her side, smiling at the brunette.

“Don!” Birdie beamed at him; many would think she was just being friendly, but he knew she was at the very least tipsy and realistically a bit drunk.

“Hey, Birdie. You enjoying the party?”

“Sure am!” Her already jolly voice went up in pitch till it was almost considered a squeak.

“Think it’s time to head to bed?” Malarkey suggested, hoping the inebriated woman would just agree with him and walk out quietly.

“Five more minutes?” She pouted; her bottom lip pushed out and curled downward, like a child being told no. Don had to hold back his laughter.

“Okay, come find me when you’re ready to go, I'll walk you back.” He offered the woman, she shook her head in reply and slurred some words together,

“Nah, it’s okay, Mal. I’ll get Lip to walk me.”

“Promise?” He was unsure if he should leave her, but decided to give her the benefit of the doubt and trust she would find the Sergeant before she was ready to leave the function.

“Promise.” And with that, the redhead left, returning to Muck and Penkala who had pulled out cards. Don made a mental note to keep an eye on the girl subtly for the rest of the night.

Not five minutes later and she was gone. He had played one round and when he looked back to the spot he’d left her in; she’d vanished. The man panicked and scanned the room, but Bernadette was definitely gone.

“Ah shit.” He muttered to himself.

“What?” Penkala questioned, noticing his friend's cagey behaviour and his constant turning as he examined the room's occupants.

“Birdie’s gone. She said she’d get Lipton to walk her.”

“Well, I can’t see him anywhere, so... maybe she did?” Penk suggested, trying to help his upset friend feel better. Donald now searched for the Sergeant and when he couldn’t find him either, he reasoned that Bernadette had most likely gone to him for an escort to her barracks. He prayed that’s what happened and would ask one of the two for details the next day. He also decided he’d tell the lady off for worrying him and make her promise to come say goodbye to him at every event they attended, weather she was drunk or not.

A/N: Aw Don is such a sweetie! There will be two secondary ships in the background of this fic, guess who?? I hope the chapter title mislead you hahaha

Till next time x

~ next-autopsy ~

Chapter fifteen

#band of brothers #easy company #hbo war #band of brothers fanfic #fem oc #oc #next autopsy #made of glass #made of glass chapter fourteen #joe toye #bill guarnere #george luz #chuck grant #carwood lipton #donald malarkey #alex penkala

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autisticlancemcclain · 2 years

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Sorry Daddy (But I’m Not That Easy)

Keith/Lance (Voltron), Shiro & Lance (Voltron), Shiro & Keith (Voltron), Getting Together, Fluff & Humour, 3.5k Words

Summary: Lance is pulling out all the stops to seduce Keith. Shiro is beyond amused, and as always a whore for drama.

@sleepdeprivedflower and I did an art exchange, and she asked for some dorky klance shenanigans with a side of broganes!

———

“Oh, wow, your hands are huge. I don’t know how I missed it, ha.”

Shiro whips his head up from where he was resting against the wall. No way. No way is someone on this good Christian castleship employing whore tactics of flirting.

“I mean, of course you had that growth spurt,” Lance continues. He’s giggling and everything, batting his eyelashes up at Keith from where he’s measuring their hands together, holy shit. “I guess I just never realised how big you really got. It’s not a bad thing, though, don’t worry. It’s cool.”

Shiro gapes at the two of them. Lance has one leg bent at the knee a little, and Shiro knows if the boy’s hair was longer he’d be twirling it around his finger. The kid’s fuckin’ blatant.

And it’s working, Lord God above. Keith is red. Like, flaming. His face is frozen, he almost looked constipated. One of his hands is still held captive by Lance, but the other is clenched so tightly around his bayard that his knuckles are completely white and bloodless.

Holy shit.

Look. Shiro will admit that he was a bit of a whore back in the day. Just a tad. He got around, one could say. And yeah, he flirted here and there. He was well versed in the art of batting his eyelashes and telling a man he was just sooo big and handsome, wow, just look at you –

Point is, he recognises what Lance is doing. Obviously. When the hardhead you’re attempting to seduce has failed to pick up on your incredibly obvious signals and has yet to make a move, you get a little desperate. A little showy, a little obvious. Shiro’s just shocked to see such bullshit happen right in front of his very eyes. And to his little brother, no less.

He scrambles to grab his phone, opening the notes app to write down some quick observations. This is a fucken’ investigation, now, okay? Detective-level shit. Here’s what he knows:

Keith and Lance have had the hots for each other for literally so long that it’s become annoying.

Lance has been passively flirting with Keith, shooting cheesy pickup lines and other stuff like that, for months.

It has gotten him nowhere.

Keith can be dense, and also has never had a boyfriend before.

Lance has clearly gotten frustrated enough that he’s done being subtle even a little bit.

Here’s the thing. When Adam’s dense ass continued to be oblivious to Shiro’s advances, back in the day, Shiro had gotten just as frustrated as Lance, pulling out all the stops. It had only taken the man a week to snap, and Shiro had gotten the fucking of his life and the man of his dreams. It was great. But Keith? Keith is at least three times more stubborn than Adam. Poor Lance has his work cut out for him, that’s for damn certain.

Shiro puts his phone away, notes gathered, and watches the disasters in question. He smirks, resisting the urge to rub his hands together like an actual supervillain. Hoo-boy. This is going to be excellent.

—

Shiro’s just about to go to bed when there’s a sharp knock on his door. He sighs, looking at his bed mournfully. So close.

Maybe he can pretend he’s asleep?

The knock comes again, and Shiro rolls his eyes, schooling his expression into neutral before walking over to the door. Apparently not.

“Lance,” Shiro greets, “hey. Come in.” He opens the door and Lance does not hesitate to stride in. Shiro closes the door, leaning against it. He looks at Lance with quiet amusement. The Cuban is tense, muttering in Spanish and avoiding Shiro’s gaze.

Fuck yes. Drama time.

“Anything I can help you with?” he asks pleasantly, knowing full well he’s being a cock. He knows exactly why Lance is here, and he’s enjoying drawing this out. He thought he was only going to see Keith lose his shit, but it appears that he gets to witness both sides of team Sexual Frustration go batty. Excellent.

Lance gives him a deadpan look, seeing right past the placid tone. “You know why I’m here.”

“Doesn’t hurt to get some clarification,” Shiro says, barely holding back a smirk. Lance glares harder, but eventually sighs, evidently deciding he wants Shiro’s help more than he wants to preserve his dignity.

“I need some advice,” Lance admits reluctantly, “of the seduction kind.”

This time, Shiro doesn’t hold the smirk back. “I see. Would this have anything to do with our resident Galran hothead?”

“Mr. Dense & Oblivious? Yeah. Unfortunately.”

Shiro laughs, shaking his head. “I dunno what you need me for. You seemed to have everything handled pretty well in training today. I’m not sure I’ve ever seen Keith go so red.”

Now it’s Lance’s turn to smirk. “Yeah, that was great.” His smirk drops, replaced by a look of annoyance. “But it didn’t work. I’ve done that before, and it worked immediately! Zero problems. And I laid it on thick. I don’t know why I can’t get through to him.”

Shiro shoots Lance and exasperated look. “C’mon, Lance. You know how Keith is.”

Lance’s expression turns all romantic and moon-eyed, Shiro notices gleefully. Oh, this is wonderful. This is so embarrassing for them. And Shiro gets to witness all of it.

“Yeah,” Lance sighs, “impulsive until it comes to people he cares about. Then he thinks and overthinks.”

Despite himself, Shiro smiles a little too. His brother is a huge softie — as much as he loves to run headfirst into trouble, as soon as others are involved, it’s like he suddenly grows the ability to think ahead. He’s very protective of his loved ones. It’s sweet.

“Exactly. So if you want him to crack, and, from his perspective, risk his friendship with you…”

Lance deflates. “I’m gonna have to try way harder.”

“And that’s the understatement of the century,” Shiro snorts. “It’ll take you a month of this, at least.”

And boy do those words appear to be the wrong thing to say. Lance rears back, eyebrow high and judgemental.

“Excuse you,” he says, hands on his hips. “I absolutely do not need a whole-ass month. I’ll be surprised if I need more than two weeks.”

Shiro laughs, opening his mouth to argue, but pauses. “Okay, as much fun as I was having being a bitch, I think I’ll draw the line at betting when you’ll successfully seduce my brother. That feels mean.”

Lance rolls his eyes for what has to be the fifth time in the twenty short minutes they’ve been having this conversation. Shiro considers making a ‘careful or your eyes will get stuck’ comment, but he’s currently being the Cool Older Brother™, and isn’t super interested in being demoted to grandpa, so he holds his tongue.

“C’mon, Shiro, hop off the high horse. It’s not like I’m setting Keith up to get his heart broken, or anything. I’m in love with the asshole. I’m just trying to get the ball rolling this way, because nothing else seems to be working.”

Shiro chokes on his own spit a little. “Sorry. I think I misheard. What was that?”

“Oh, don’t act all surprised,” Lance chides. “I think I’m pretty obvious about it.”

“I knew you liked him, but I didn’t know you were in love with him!” Shiro exclaims.

Lance shrugs, but he’s avoiding Shiro’s gaze. “He’s very charming.”

Shiro squints at him. “You are very casual about this,” he declares after a moment of judgemental staring. “Where’s the Lance who had a gay crisis and hid in his room for three days after panic-coming out to everyone in the middle of training?”

“...He had another crisis three days ago. I’ve made my peace with it now.”

Shiro grins, moving closer to ruffle Lance’s hair (much to his annoyance).

“I see. Well, in that case, I’ll take you up on that bet, Lance. There is no possible way you're gonna get my stubborn-ass brother to crack in less than a month.”

Lance grins, eyes devious and sharp. “Oh, you’re so on.”

—

Shiro has to hide a grin in his cup when Lance walks in to breakfast wearing Keith’s dorky cropped jacket, because his brother’s face is hilarious. There are a couple raised eyebrows from the rest of the team, as well, because last they checked the sleeves of Keith’s jacket were certainly not big enough to give Lance literal sweater paws.

“Where did you –” Keith’s voice cracks so many times that even Shiro, in all his amusement, starts to pity him (not Pidge. Pidge laughs and points at him.) “Uh. Where’d you get that jacket?” he finally forces out.

Lance smiles serenely, but Shiro isn’t fooled. He sees the mischief in his eyes.

Oooh, this kid is good.

“Oh, you know. I haven’t seen you wear it in a while, so I was trying to figure out why. I realised it’s too small for you, now, so I made some adjustments! It should fit you now.”

Keith blinks, and a besotted smile spreads on his face. Shiro meets Hunk’s deadpan look and they both roll their eyes in tandem.

“That’s really nice of you, Lance. Thanks.”

Lance smiles at Keith again, and makes his way to his seat. He grabs some space bacon and a bowl of goo, sitting in his usual spot right next to Keith. Shiro notices he subtly scooches his chair closer to Keith. Just the smallest amount, but still. Calculated.

“Can I, um.” Keith clears his throat. “Can I… have the jacket?”

Lance sighs, making his eyes all big and round and siccing them on poor Keith’s unprepared self. “Oh, I guess so,” he pouts. “Your clothes are just so comfortable. I was hoping to wear it for a bit longer, but if you need it back —”

“No!”

Everyone startles a little at Keith’s sudden yell, except for Shiro and Hunk who have been watching the exchange with interest.

“No, you can keep it,” Keith adds hastily. His face is a little blotchy. “It’s fine. Totally fine.”

Shiro nudges Hunk, who leans in. “Watch,” Shiro whispers, “Keith’s about to lose it.”

Lance grins at Keith, all sunny and bright, and leans in to peck Keith on the cheek.

The glass Keith was holding explodes into thousands of little shards, just as Keith turns scarlet.

“I’m gonna — gotta go clean — maybe I should — goodbye,” Keith stutters, and rushes out the door.

Lance huffs, scowling at his bowl of food goo.

“For fuck’s sake,” he mutters.

Shiro laughs at him.

—

To Lance’s credit, even Shiro’s surprised the next try doesn’t work.

They’re in the training room again, nearing the end of a simulation. Everyone’s a little tired and sweaty, as they’re rapidly approaching hour five of training and everyone’s kind of ready to wrap it up.

Lance makes the final shot, nailing a gladiator bot between the eyes and clearing the level. Shiro calls for a hydration break, sending everyone to the mini-fridge to grab a water pouch and chill out for a bit. Pidge and Hunk pair up, as per usual, idly discussing one of their projects but mostly just catching their breaths. Shiro makes his way over to Allura, handing her a water pouch. She accepts it gratefully, shooting him a smile as she does some stretches. Lance is a toss-up – he rarely sits with the same person twice in a row, preferring instead to spend time with different people every day or spend a couple minutes with everyone, like the social butterfly he is.

Today, though, he sits with Keith, as he has been doing for the past week or so. Allura inclines her head at the two, raising a questioning eyebrow at Shiro.

“Would you happen to know anything about that?”

Shiro shrugs, smirking. “I know enough to be sure that I will be treating whatever comes next as my own personal soap opera.”

“I see,” Allura snorts. “Alteans were not so complicated in their courting. I have never witnessed such foolishness before – I must admit, it truly is amusing.”

“Yeah, humans are messy,” Shiro agrees. “But these two are particularly disastrous. They’re just as stubborn as each other, so. Heaven forbid they communicate or something.”

“Mhm.”

The two watch on in comfortable silence, sipping their water and stretching lazily. It really is like a soap opera. Keith and Lance are talking quietly enough that neither Shiro or Allura can really hear, but both boys are so naturally expressive that it isn’t hard to infer the conversation. Lance is gesturing wildly, hands waving about, and Shiro’s lip-reading isn’t excellent but he’s pretty certain he sees Lance make several goofy sound effects. Keith is laughing and smiling and eating it right up, feeding into Lance’s energy.

After a few minutes the story must end, and both Keith and Lance settle into the same comfortable silence that Shiro and Allura are in, only with sexual tension.

After a few minutes, Shiro can physically see the switch turn in Lance’s face — he goes from excited and animated to devious in a nanosecond. Shiro scrambles to his feet, startling Allura.

“What’s wrong?”

“We have to get closer,” Shiro hisses.

“Why?” she asks incredulously.

“I know that look Lance is getting,” Shiro responds as they speed over to a spot where they can hear the boys better. “He’s about to make this soap opera 300% more interesting.”

Allura grins, and the two settle down again about ten or so feet behind the red and blue paladins.

“– so I guess I can’t call you Mullet anymore, huh?” Lance is saying. He’s much closer to Keith than he was before; kneeling right in front of him. Their faces can’t be more than eight inches apart.

“Guess not,” Keith says quietly. Breathlessly.

Lance hums, tilting his head. “I bet you still use 2-in-1 shampoo,” he teases, and Shiro knows exactly where this is going.

Some of the hesitance leaves Keith’s posture, and he leans forward a bit. They have this argument frequently. “It’s efficient!” he argues.

“It’s a travesty, is what it is. You’re gonna ruin your hair like that. I wonder –” Lance reaches forward, gently brushing his fingers through Keith’s fringe. Keith goes rigid, and Shiro can imagine his heartbeat thundering. “Oh, wow. It is soft, even without the conditioner.”

Keith makes an aborted, throaty noise, eyes closed and fists clenched. The poor bastard looks like he’s about to combust.

Shiro and Allura exchange smirks. Whipped.

Keith clears his throat, several times, and Lance pulls away with the tiniest smile on his face.

“Cute,” he murmurs, then sits back on his heels, re-establishing the space between them. He looks at Keith expectantly, and his thoughts could not be more clear: your turn, Keith.

There’s a moment of silence, and then Keith stands up, brushing off his pants. “We should get back to training,” he says, voice a little strangled. He holds out his hand for Lance to grab, and Lance sighs heavily before taking it and getting pulled to his feet.

Shiro and Allura look at each other, wide-eyed and incredulous.

“Yikes,” Shiro mutters.

“Yikes is correct,” Allura agrees.

—

On week three, Shiro is pretty sure he’s going to win that bet. Lance has pulled all the stops. He’s done the hand thing, the jacket thing, the oh-you’re-so-strong-I-bet-you-can-lift-me-up thing, on and on. Once Shiro even watched him climb right over Keith’s lap to get a remote. Keith had been flustered, but the attempt had been fruitless. Honestly, Shiro was starting to feel bad for him.

It wasn’t like Keith didn’t actually like Lance. He still came to Shiro’s room every night, like clockwork, to vent and moan and screech and swoon about the boy in blue and his pretty eyes and face and legs and everything about him is just so wonderful, Shiro, even when he’s pissing me off. And I swear he’s trying to kill me, Shiro, he must be, I swear I can’t even think around him sometimes –

Yeah. It’s as bad as it sounds. Sometimes Shiro just wants to shake him by the shoulders and drill it into his head that you need to go for it, your stubborn dork, Lance is so down bad for you it’s ridiculous, just please take that one step because for whatever reason Lance is just as stubborn as you are and refuses to make the step himself.

But, you know. He has a bet to win, so. Maybe he’ll knock some sense into Keith after the month is up.

The gist of the matter is that Shiro has watched Keith out-stubborn Lance for three weeks now. He genuinely believes that Lance is going to lose, and tonight’s scheme is no exception.

Lance has set the stage incredibly well. Everyone’s all cozied up for movie night, nestled in close with dozens of pillows and blankets strewn all about. Lance had quietly seated himself next to Keith, and it wasn’t even out of the ordinary, so no one bat an eye.

Well. Shiro did. But that’s because he is completely invested, at this point. He is going to see this thing through, dammit.

But anyway. Lance is wrapped up in at least 5 blankets (that boy is always cold. Seriously. Always. He claims it’s because the castle is constantly frigid and his ‘Cuban blood’ is not used to that kind of cold, but Coran told Shiro that Lance is just anaemic and has bad circulation. Go figure). He’s scooching closer to Keith by the second. Shiro resists the urge to turn down the volume of the movie they’re watching so he can hear the boys better, settling for simply straining his ears.

“Sorry,” Lance whispers, finally getting close enough to lean on Keith. “I’m just – wicked cold. And you’re basically a human furnace.”

Surprisingly, Keith doesn’t freeze up this time, or even get flustered. All he does is lift his arms so Lance can curl up under it, and smiles softly.

“Half-human furnace,” he teases, just as subdued.

Lance snorts, laying his head on Keith’s shoulder. “Half or not, you’re the hottest person here. In more ways than one.” He shoots Keith a wink, but Keith only rolls his eyes, smiling.

Hm. He seems much more comfortable with this quiet flirting, and it does not escape Lance’s notice.

Lance shoots Keith one more smile, and snuggles deeper into him, turning his attention to the movie.

Shiro smiles, soft this time instead of smug. Lance may not win their silly little bet, but he will be winning Keith’s heart. Of this, Shiro is certain.

—

The morning of the day before Lance’s month is up, he and Keith stroll into the kitchen holding hands. Both have hickeys straight-up littering their necks.

“No!” Shiro yells, barely restraining himself from slamming his hands on the table. “Fuck! Come on, Keith! You couldn’t hold out one more day? One?”

Lance winks at him, and Keith smirks, clearly having been let in on the whole ordeal.

“I honestly wanted to date Lance faster just to spite you,” he says. Shiro scowls at him.

“One fucking day,” he grumbles, but can’t bring himself to be too angry. He’s happy for the losers, after all.

“So what finally did it?” Allura, who knows all about the bet because Shiro can’t help himself, asks.

Lance shrugs. “Turns out honest communication goes a long way. I just told him I like him.”

Nothing could prepare Shiro for the volume of the scream Hunk lets out.

“Six! Fucking! Years!” he bellows, stalking towards his best friend.

Lance shrieks and hides behind Keith, who looks very amused.

“I have been fucking begging you to talk to Keith for six years! Over half a fucking decade! Half a fucking decade I have put up with the most down bad, horniest, mooniest commentary in the world!” His voice goes high and mocking, and he bats his eyelashes obnoxiously. “Oh, Hunk, he’s so pretty and mysterious. Oh, Hunk, he’s sooooo talented. Oh, Hunk, his smile is just breathtaking. Oh, Hunk, that growth spurt made him giant, god, his biceps are as big as yours. I want him to step on me. Six years of this! Six years of enduring this pain!”

Keith cranes his head to the side, raising an eyebrow at his (!!) boyfriend. “Seriously? Did you actually say all that?”

“Oh, don’t pretend you aren’t just as bad, Keith,” Pidge drawls. “I’ve heard more about Lance’s legs than any person should ever have to. Ever.”

That shuts Keith right up, making him go as red as his lion.

Hunk huffs. “You’re lucky I’m so happy for you, you fuckin’ punk, or I’d kill you.”

“I love you! Please don’t murder me!” Lance squeaks, still hiding behind Keith.

Hunk rolls his eyes, but walks over and pulls the couple into a bear hug so strong it lifts them both off the ground. Both reciprocate happily.

“I want in on the affection!” Coran calls, rushing over to join the hug. Pidge, Allura, and SHiro all look at each other and shrug, rushing forward to join them too.

Soon all seven of them are giggling, sharing in the joy of the couple.

Lost bet or not – Shiro’s happy for his friends. Even if it means Lance will be smug about this for eternity.

412 notes · View notes

starcolonelkatrinamoon · 21 days

Text

Death and Glory

The sound of impact guns rattled through the FOB camp of Clan Smoke Jaguar. It was all hands on deck for refit and repairs and they were behind schedule with ten mechs that needed major work.

New orders had come down from above. Instead of an assault on Falaise, they were to be interdicting the superheavy column. That dictated an entirely separate kind of tactics and warfare that they were not originally prepared for. To that end they had called in Gorgon Star - part of the untouched Supernova they had left in orbit. And they were going to need to move fast.

Five HBK-IIC “Gorgon”s were readied at the edge of the encampment to head out, along with their accompanying support elements. Up-engined J-37 transports loaded down with tons of ammunition and a couple industrialmechs with loading mechanisms for swiftly changing out the bins of belted ammunition. The five mechs had a near-standard CSJ Alpha Galaxy paintjob with one exception: a head of snake hair, painted over the cockpit and rear reactor cowling.

Katrina finished final warmup checks of her own HBK-IIC. All of the communications systems had connected with her helmet correctly. She hoped that stayed the case, even with the left torso EW pod operating at full spectrum. She toggled the painfully familiar power panel, beginning the system startup sequence.

Reactor online.

Sensors online.

Weapons online.

All systems Nominal.

A shuddering breath escaped the woman as she eased into the throttle with trepidation, leaning the BattleMech to the right to join up with Gorgon star. The Hunchback - already nicknamed Pushin’ Flowers by Gorgon star - responded snappily and swiftly, precisely coming to a stop in line with the other ‘mechs.

Katrina eyed the name painted across the shoulder of the Hunchback next to her. “Permanent Address” was hand-daubed in script across the shoulder armor, the iconography of a gravestone beneath it. As the other BattleMechs powered up one by one, the star’s BattleComms came alive and synchronized.

“Ready to rock with the dead, Star Colonel?!” Cheered Enigma the Star Commander enthusiastically, her BattleMech throwing its arm up into the air. “Last Home” could be read across its right torso, emblazoned on the outline of a crypt. Without waiting for an answer, she pushed her mech into a run, dirt kicking up.

A series of whoops and hollers would break over the comms as the rest of the star threw their mechs into overdrive, their superchargers enabling them to catch up quickly. With little hesitation, Katrina followed suit, a menacing whining coming from below her deep within the mech.

The mechs pulled into a rough wedge, Katrina pulling out front and leading the charge. As the mech ran over snowy terrain and past trees, she carefully forwarded movement plans to the rest of the star. They were in for a long haul - 400km of winding, rough terrain.

--------------------------------------------------------------

“Watch that edge!” Barked the Star Commander as Point 3’s left leg came a little too close to the edge, rocks tumbling from the sheer ridge face. The mechs were jogging along the shallow cliff as they sought to navigate over the ridges between the reinforced star and Kinship FOB. Currently they were fifteen kilometers northeast of HAMEL and twenty minutes behind schedule. They needed to pick up the pace.

Katrina twisted her mechs torso to the side to avoid a rocky outcropping. She held her breath as she watched the top of the LB 10-X pass inches from the rock face, nearly scraping the protruding fume extractor cowling. Moments later she heard a scraping of metal from the external pickups as one of the Gorgons bumped their shoulder into the same outcropping, showering her mech with gravel.

If it was this tight for a Hunchback, she couldn't imagine how tight the road would be for the J-37s. They had the advantage of not having to deal with the outcroppings above, but they also had to be far more careful about the ground conditions. They had nearly lost one of the trucks earlier to a similar ridgeline. That truck was currently at the back of the convoy with scraped paint.

Katrina dreaded what losses they might incur if they tried to rush.

--------------------------------------------------------------

Two klicks out from Coen, Gorgon star had stopped for a short break. Final combat checks rattled across the BattleComms as they prepared themselves for the grinder.

“Star Commander, counter-rotate your left rotary. The belt link is hooked up in the feed mech. Point 5, drink some water. I can hear your dry fucking mouth and it is making me thirsty. Point 3, spin your rotaries one more time? Good, all confirm final check?” Katrina rattled off, performing her own checks at the same time. EW pod was online, the angel ECM keeping them under a shroud of anti targeting systems and lidar spoofers. She fired up the bloodhound probe and watched her HUD as her own enhanced lidar systems began fully mapping the area, the secondary scanners picking up every vehicle within range. She began to tune out IFF codes.

“All green, all checks final, good to go Star Colonel,” the Star Commander responded, their RAC now rotating freely as the autoloader ejected the bent belt links from the secondary ejection port. A few 30MM autocannon rounds ejected with them, dropping into the dirt with soft thuds.

“Okay Gorgons. All checks green. We prowl!" The Star Colonel snarled into their BattleComms, kicking her own HBK-IIC up to flanking speed. The IFF pings on her radar told her the rest of the star was following behind her, spreading out into a wide wedge shape.

Within a minute they were entering the northern edge of Coen, the streets abandoned. In her 360 view Katrina watched as Gorgon star behind her torso twisted to create overlapping fields of fire.

Minutes of tedium passed before her bloodhound peaked a reactor signature. Immediately she fired an analysis wave, watching as it returned a smaller reactor signature. A 210 fusion, moving fast.

A Malak. It wouldn't be ready for them.

Confirmation clicks washed over their BattleComms like a wave.

All at once, chaos erupted.

Three more reactor signals. Fusion. 210. 270. 240. Another Malak, a Preta, and a Grigori.

The first Malak flew into the street, sparks kicking up from its feet as it turned hard into the star’s direction, skidding slightly along the pavement before catching and charging.

Katrina's TarComp blared a lock as she whipped the controls, Pushin’ Flowers twisting its torso over hard. She fired the LB 10-X at short range, the twin THOOM THOOM firing pattern of the autocannon rattling the cockpit heavily. The twin solid shots impacted the light ‘mech before it was shredded into scrap by a barrage of fire from the rest of the star.

Pushing the remaining reactor location pings to the rest of the squad, she engaged the supercharger and brought her BattleMech back up to flanking speed. A horrendous whine built in the cockpit as she charged perpendicular to the street she knew the Blakist OmniMechs would be down.

At the last second she ripped her throttle to neutral, stomping a control pedal at the same time. Her BattleMech performed a right anchor turn as she skidded along the pavement. She would have only a one second window at this speed.

The LB 10-X read green with canister munitions.

Her hands gripped the controls, sweat slicking the surfaces.

Now!

The twin resounding roar of her autocannon shook her world once again as her mech slid across the intersection and back behind another building.

The world slowed to a stop. Her heart dropped into her stomach. There in the windows she was facing, barely ten feet away, were faces.

Civilians.

Cowering, frightened, terrified.

Of what was happening. Of what they were seeing.

There were children.

Immediately she slammed the control rudder hard into the floor of the cockpit and threw the throttle all the way up, bringing her war machine to a screaming stop.

“GORGONS! CIVVIES IN THE BUILDINGS! Cubs! FIGHT WITH HONOR!”

The response was a roar.

"DIE WITH GLORY!”

The star moved up, positioning themselves opposite the street from Katrina. Momentary silence.

“I will distract the bastards!" Cheered Point 5, kicking his hunchback into movement. The ‘mech strode into the street and turned.

The rotary autocannons clicked once and begun to spin.

And then a hellacious BVVVVVVVVVV filled the air as he opened up with the twin rotaries, his mech slowly striding forwards. Aluminum casings and belt links scattered across the pavement like hail as he kept the trigger held down, lazing the torrent of shells across the three mechs that were at the far end of the street. His laughter echoed madly over the BattleComms.

Fire was returned. Lasers slagged armor away, drops of molten metal and woven diamond composite spraying to the ground. A few missiles cracked against the armor, but most flew astray the instant they entered the ECM bubble protecting the star.

Points 3 and 4 stepped into the street as well, their rotary autocannons joining the chorus of devastation that was ripping the Celestial mechs to pieces. It didn't take long for the three ‘mechs to collapse, their hulls more composed of craters than armor.

Oh so carefully, Katrina waved the civilians back from the windows. Then scooped out a small section of the wall, her mechs’ hand actuators complaining at her request to break concrete. As the wall was opened up she held out the hands of her mech, permitting the small group of civilians to transfer over.

She locked the actuators. No reason to risk it.

“We are headed back to the supply convoy to drop off the civilians and reload."

“Aff, Star Colonel."

--------------------------------------------------------------

Industrialmechs hooked ammunition feed belts into autoloader mechanisms. Thousands of rounds of ammunition rattled into emptied bins, replacing what had been expended not even twenty minutes prior.

Point 5 was having new ablative plates fast-fused to the outer layer of his ‘mechs armor.

The Star Colonel’s mech instead was being fed new ammunition from shell trays, the chain driven sleds pushing new heavy shells into the loading mechanism which fed the hungry autocannon. Each 105mm shell was accepted, sorted, and then rotated downwards, deep into the guts of her mech.

The civilians huddled at the side of one of the J-37s, near to the infantry bay. They were afraid. Cold and wet. They needed hope.

Unbuckling herself from the mech’s cockpit, she unsealed the hatch and pulled herself from Pushin' Flowers, standing up on the hull for a moment. Her power armor hummed around her. She felt the breeze, smelt the cordite on the wind. Tossing her neurohelmet back into the cockpit, she grabbed the dropline and rappelled down to the ground.

As she approached, they watched her with trepidation. She knew what sort of image she cut, but it was far more evident when faced with non combatants.

Except one child didn't flinch. They watched her with wide eyes but held no fear. As she stepped up to the group, she kneeled in the snow. A smile - normal, be normal, don't snarl - broke onto her face. Her gazed traced from the cub up to the few adults of the group that were doing their best to keep the large conglomeration under control.

She needed to say something but was lost for words. What would Nicholas-

No.

What would Alexander Kerensky say?

Pride welled in her chest as she knew what she would say.

“I am Star Colonel Katrina of the Moon bloodname. A MechWarrior of Clan Smoke Jaguar, of the Jaguar's Shadow Independent Drop Cluster. This is my rede - you will be unharmed. My transports will bring you to safety. There are shelters nearby that they will deliver you to. If we can spare it, we will leave rations and blankets.”

A pause.

"We are Smoke Jaguars, not pirates. I do not know what propaganda you have heard about us. Let our actions be the true judge of us.”

And in that moment she saw flickers of hope where once there had been despair.

--------------------------------------------------------------

Settling into the cockpit of her Hunchback, Katrina pulled her helmet on and immediately heard snark from the BattleComms.

“Aww, is the Star Colonel playing politician?" Jeered one of the Gorgons. Katrina frankly didn't care which one did. She would use this as a lesson.

“Yes. Because unlike you bastards with a deathwish, there is a REASON I am Star Colonel of this cluster. My job is not simply leading you all into battle. It is ensuring you are fed, your guns are loaded, that we have a place to sleep after a long fight. Did you think your bullets were FREE, you cutdown fodder? You forget the teachings of The Great Father. Alexander would be disappointed in you.” With her short rant finished, she queued up the bloodhound active probe once more. On their way back something had brushed the bare edge of her probes’ range, lighting up her sensor array with a reactor signal.

It had been a very big reactor. A 300 fusion type according to her readout. Which meant two things. Either it was an Archangel…

… or she had just detected an Omega. And judging from the reactor mass, she was going to assume it was an Omega.

“Luckily for you lot, the bloodhound picked up a large ping on the way back. We should go say hello, quiaff? Welcome them to the neighborhood."

A resounding wave of "aff”s set the star into motion once more.

--------------------------------------------------------------

They found the Omega and had been stalking it for the last few minutes. It was not far away from other forces and given its armor, could easily hold out until reinforcements arrived.

Katrina watched the superheavy through a ballistics hole that had punched a tunnel through a building. The ECM bubble was keeping her Hunchback and the other five behind the building next to her hidden, but they had to play it careful. There was a strong chance that they could take it down before reinforcements arrived.

Or at the very least disable the pilot. But she would need to get into the machine with her Nighthawk.

The fight was about to get complicated.

@is-the-battlemech-cool-or-not

#battletech #mechwarrior #story event #oc rp #operation touchdown #plot

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nyxlaufeyson · 6 months

Text

Sticky Tape

Winter Masterlist - Loki Oneshot Masterlist - Main Masterlist

POV: Third

Ship: Loki x Darcy Lewis

Type: Fluff with a sprinkle of crack because c'mon, it's Darcy!

Warning: Lil bit of suggestive referencing but that's it

Wordcount: 729

Prompt: "Wrapping tape" (Or something along those lines)

Synopsis: Darcy wrestles with the tape.

A/N: Idk if you know this but I freaking love tasertricks. I just don't always write for them which is crazy so here.

Banner by @jiyaxedits

Darcy cursed as she wrestled with the present. The wrapping paper was not cooperating, per usual. She had picked out a green gift wrap that had little reindeers on it. She thought that Loki would not appreciate it, but she sure would.

Wrapping presents was not an easy feat, but she was determined. She got out her heavy duty tape, and circled around the present like she was a wrestler. “Now listen here, buddy, if you don’t fricking work with me here, I will rip you to shreds! And I don’t care that you cost me $24.99.”

Darcy reconsidered her statement. “Well, okay, maybe I do care, and maybe I won’t rip you to shreds, but I’ll do something gosh darn it!”

She carefully approached the present and did her best to fold and tape the peculiar-shaped item. As she was in the middle of taping, a knock sounded at her bedroom door, making her lose her focus.

Without even waiting to see who it was, she yelled, “No!” She heard someone scoff from the other side, and she knew who it was. “You can’t come in right now, I’m, uh… changing.”

She could practically hear his smirk. “Is that supposed to keep me out?” Now it was her turn to scoff.

“Yes! And I’m not changing, so don’t come in you perv!” Loki sighed, but didn’t come in. Darcy was grateful for her small victories.

The present was only halfway concealed, so she brought it to her closet and hid it under some loose articles of clothing. She then opened her door, greeting Loki. He took in her out-of-breath form, and his eyes glanced at her bed.

His eyes widened, eyebrows raised. “Oh dear,” he said, “did you try to kidnap someone with scotch tape? You could have asked me for help. I know much better ways to-”

“No! I did not kidnap someone.” She huffed, and Loki walked further into her room so she could shut the door. She didn’t want to say that she had been wrapping presents for him, because then he would try to figure out what it was. She wanted it to be a total surprise come the holidays.

He arched his eyebrow. “No? What were you doing then?” Darcy weighed her possible responses.

She settled with distraction. “Hey! You know, I was looking for you earlier. I wanted to ask you for your opinion on this new dress I bought. Want to help me put it on? The zipper’s a little tricky.”

Loki was a lot of things, but he was no idiot. He quickly picked up on Darcy’s tactic of defense. “As much as I would love to see you in a state of undress, darling, I know that you are deflecting the question I asked.”

Darcy huffed. “Okay, fine, I was wrapping a present.” Loki’s eyes lit up. “And no, I will not give you a single hint as to what it is. I want this to be a surprise, so don’t you dare try and peek or anything.”

He held his hands up in defense. “Darling, how could you think that I would ever do such a thing! I am very patient.”

“Uh, no you’re not. You practically throw a fit every time we have to wait in a line somewhere. Remember causing a scene at Panera?” Darcy asked.

Loki frowned. “I am a god, and a prince. I am above doing such trivial things like waiting in line amongst you mortals.”

Darcy rolled her eyes. “Kay, whatever. Point is, I will tase your ass if you ever try to look and find out what it is.” Loki groaned, but did not object.

“Fine. I came to get you because Steve has assembled everyone to the living room for some reason.” Darcy nodded, getting up.

She turned to Loki, helping him up off the bed. “Did he say what for?”

Loki shrugged. “He did, but it went in one ear and out the other. I try not to pay too much attention to what he says. Most of it is unimportant.”

Darcy rolled her eyes, but made her way to the door and opened it. She could see his eyes searching her room for whatever she was wrapping. “Uh-uh, get out here.” She pulled him through the door and shut it, dragging him to whatever Steve had planned.

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#loki #loki fanfic #marvel #loki fluff #loki friggason #loki laufeyson #loki oneshot #loki marvel #happy holidays #tasertricks #darcy lewis #loki/darcy lewis #loki/darcy #darcy lewis/loki #tasertricks fanfic

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