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ryescapades · 2 months ago

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aubade · ₊˚ˑ༄ؘ°࿐ | kaiju no. 8

— there is you, and then there is him. as dawn breaks, love lays its claim.

fluff prompt: palm kisses <3 characters: hoshina soshiro x gn weapon specialist!reader

genre/warning: fluff, mutual pining, ooc hoshina prolly, indirect confession, takes place after the sagamihara operation's celebration party, narumi cameo bcs why not

a/n: specially made for my lovely moot @/spookuna <3 i'm a bit attached to this one ngl..

2.9k wc

they say it is a soldier's pride to be able to serve the country they've sworn their lives on. duty, honor and discipline; these are all necessary in order to bring out the best in oneself to protect what matters to them.

expectedly, it is no different in the jakdf. bound by duty, the officers, no matter what position or department they're in, are well aware of the obligation they have to adhere to. they hone their skills and take pride in their abilities to be the best version of themselves so as to protect the lives of the people from the onslaught of kaiju in any way they can.

however, as a defense force officer yourself, your pride lies in your weapons. specifically, the weapons that you made.

ever since you were a mere child, all you've ever known was the forging of heated metals and the whirring sound of machines. the you from years ago used to enjoy watching the process of weapon-making, both machinery and man-made alike. hence, it is only natural that you grew up pursuing a career born out of your interest; a weapon specialist in the jakdf.

you were one of their best, in fact. hardworking and dedicated, you were deserving enough to be stationed at the first division base, where all the cream of the crops reside. studying and researching together with your fellow engineers in the process of making kaiju-specialized arsenals have become as natural as eating your daily meals.

additionally, discussing about the weapons with the soldiers themselves for any improvements is something you'd grown to enjoy doing.

and unbeknownst to most of those around you, you might just have the slightest bit of favoritism towards one soldier in particular...

"how was it, the blaze round? or is the explosive one still better?" you inquire during one afternoon in the testing lab. the first division officer turns to you while holding the rifle containing said blazing cartridges, half of it already emptied after the shooting trial.

"it's working well, y/n-san! your idea of flaming bullets is really doing wonders, seriously. but i do think the design could be better though, for instance..." as he drones on about what upgrades you could add to the gun, you listen with rapt attention, jotting down new ideas on your notebook. after the testing session ends, you mull over your notes in the silence of the now-empty lab.

a curious voice, fused with a bit of bafflement then brings you out of your headspace that is previously filled with a bunch of chemicals, kaiju remains and mechanical parts.

"you're still doing tests on that fire gun-thingy?" you lift your head up to see captain narumi waltzing in, the usual air of confidence and nonchalance sticking to him like a second skin.

you perk up, throwing him a quick salute. "yep, as usual! still got a long way to go though. there's so many stuff i need to fix, especially the cartridge and the substance formula. and there's the barrel part too—"

narumi grimaces, "okay, okay, chill, y/n. i'm only here to pick up my weapon, not to hear you nerd out about your little experiment," he huffs, walking over to the corner of the lab where his bayonet case is kept. you only give a responding chuckle and a lighthearted apology.

being the nosy ass that he is, narumi peeks over your figure to glimpse at what you're working on. however, his magenta hues latch on to your hands. in all the years he's known you, narumi has only ever seen you with your gloves on but today, your hands are bare and free from the confine of those military-issued fabrics.

with the case now slung over his shoulder, he's about to interrogate you about the lines he'd just seen on your palms when your phone that was sitting on the desk rings, a familiar name flashing on the screen.

the captain clicks his tongue. "the heck does this asshole want from you?" he questions in annoyance, albeit while sliding the device to you all the same just as you ask him who's calling.

he takes note of the way your eyes light up when they land upon the name of the caller, a smile quirking up on your face as you feel your heart skipping a (few too many) beat. you immediately slide a finger across the screen to put the call on speaker so that you can still look over your findings and talk to him all the while.

right, speaking of favoritism...

"vice-captain hoshina?" you cheerily greet, and narumi forces himself to hold in a gag (spoiler: he fails) when the man on the other line speaks up, "hey there. you free right now?" internally, you almost punched yourself at how giddy you get after hearing the smooth and light baritone of hoshina's voice.

you send your captain a glare before shooing him out with a wave of your hand. gruntling under his breath, the bicolor-haired man rolls his eyes as he pushes the door on his way out. "damn lovebirds,"

you ignore his not-so vague comment, fully focused on the one you're currently in love speaking with. "no, not really. i was just testing out some new stuff. why?" you query.

"you've heard about the sagamihara operation, right? well, ya see... one of my blades broke while i was fightin' no. 8, and the other one is pretty scratched up. i'm afraid i'd have to get the spare ones you keep at the hq," hoshina explains, and your eyebrows raise in shock.

"what? i've only heard that the mission turned out quite the struggle in the end, but nothing about no. 8 showing up. are you okay?" hoshina finds himself to be a lucky man, for you're not there with him to see how wide he's smiling, his cheeks practically hurt from your expression of concern for him.

"i'm all good, don't worry, dear. and besides, i won't be taken down so easily like that, ya know? have some faith in me, yeah?" you blush slightly at the nickname and his teasing tone before letting out a small laugh. "sorry, sorry. i do have faith in you, vice-captain. you hold that 'strongest close-quarters combatant' title for a reason, no?" you muse, not even bothering to keep the sheer honesty from flowing out.

the grip on his own phone tightens, relishing in the subtle praise sneaking behind your words. throughout his years in the defense force, people have complimented him on his hand-to-hand skills, sure. more often so now that he's a high-ranking officer in the third division. but when it comes to you, it just feels... right. assuring, somehow.

hoshina chuckles breathily, "you're right. so, about my swords... should i go there to pick it up or will you be sending a courier for it?"

for a moment you contemplate, weighing over your decisions. on one side, you really don't have any other purpose to go all the way to tachikawa apart from delivering the weapon. plus, your schedule is not exactly flexible enough to be making such impromptu visits to another base.

on the other hand, going to tachikawa means you get to see him. and deliver the weapon, obviously. but the way you see it, meeting him is enough reason for you to confidently set your choice.

"actually... you know what? i'll be going to tachikawa myself,"

if it were anybody else, you would've reprimanded them for disregarding their duties so carelessly like this. why do something so pointlessly time-consuming when there's a more effective way of doing it? or something along the lines of 'you should stick true to your obligation as a defense force officer, something something, blah blah...'

but who could blame you, really. for hoshina soshiro, you would take the tiniest crumb of chance to see him standing in front your very eyes, only to remind yourself time and time again that he's the one your heart longs for.

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

the hour clock strikes around six in the morning when you step foot onto the third division's turf, the sun still on its way to reach above the horizon for the incoming dawn.

you had taken some good five minutes of lecturing yourself about impulsively making a trip to another base, hands gripping tight on the steering wheel as you eventually came to terms with the fact that you were, indeed, driving by yourself from the ariake maritime base straight to tachikawa.

being the responsible officer that you are, you informed captain narumi of your little quote unquote adventure, which he only cackled at. you definitely did not bribe him with a new disc game of his choosing for his bs5 if he promised not tell on you to your superiors...

now, as you settle your belongings in the third division's library, you suddenly feel the nerves wrecking inside. it's quite a silly issue, really. it's not like this is the first time you're meeting hoshina. truth be told, you think you've seen more of him than captain ashiro, even though the latter is the more frequent visitor to the main headquarters out of the two.

you can't help it. everything about hoshina just makes you feel nervous, shy, but warm and happy all the same. your heart would beat a thousand miles per hour when he's near, heat rushing to every part of your body as if you had just burned yourself. well, maybe that's partly accurate, with how stupidly and ridiculously hot hoshina soshiro is—

a knock on the door interrupts your train of improper thoughts.

a figure stands at the huge opened entrance, leaning against the doorway with his arms crossed against his— oh, sweet lord... he's wearing that compression shirt again. it takes every ounce of your willpower to not let your eyes stray anywhere below the turtleneck-line, lest you're in for a lifetime of teasing by the man.

you're a bit unlucky, it seems. because when you finally look at him, there is a knowing glint in his wine-tinted irises, as if he understands exactly what goes on in your mind, though he produces no word to address it.

"vice-captain, hi," you start, then proceed to mentally smack yourself because what the heck is that lame-ass greeting?

hoshina smiles, and your eyes greedily take in the sight of his curled up mouth. "hi yourself. how was the drive? i was worried for a second when ya said you're comin' here alone. you could've taken the shinkansen... or better yet, i could've gone there myself," thin eyebrows furrowing slightly, he approaches where you stand in the middle of the room where a metal table sits among others.

you laugh sheepishly, scratching gingerly on the skin of your cheek. "traffic was okay, thanks. and this is kind of an impulsive idea, really. i went straight to my car without thinking instead of going to the train station. plus, i wanted to give these to you myself," you say, mentioning to the leather sheaths sitting on the table.

hoshina tilts his head, giving you a confused smile, "why so? aren't they the same ol' blades like the ones i've been using before?" he asks, which causes your expression to brighten.

grabbing the weapons in your hands, you excitedly unsheathe the twin swords before displaying them in front of him. the blades are familiar, marked as his signature weapon SW-2033, gleaming sharp in the dim light of the library and shaped as similarly as his old ones.

"they are, but i added some touch ups to them too! i did some tweaking in the metal constitution of the blades to make them lighter, but more sturdy and tough to cut through harder things. they're supposedly more responsive to any change in your combat power too. the new composition has some kaiju remains in it, but you didn't hear that from me, okay?" you whisper the last part cheekily.

hoshina laughs, comfortably taking the swords when you hand them out to him and slowly turning them back and forth for observation, awestruck with your creation when suddenly a small detail catches his eyes. "what's this?" he mutters curiously, bringing the handle of the swords for a closer scrutiny.

you immediately straighten up at his attentiveness, your arms sliding behind your back and your fingers starting to play with the hem of your gloves from the jitters. "ah, that. well, i figured the swords would hold out much longer this time. so i thought it wouldn't hurt to do a little mark of ownership on each of them," you mumble, holding your breath while gauging his reaction all the same.

there, beside the jagged, razor-sharp edge of the dark steel blade, a small and intricate swirl of his first name is carved, along with a pressed mark of your own initials just above the izumo tech logo at the hilt.

there's a lump his throat, his slanted eyes widening in surprise.

bashfulness washes over you when he doesn't say anything, still staring at the weapons. "o-of course, i can remove my name if that's what you're concerned about! the hilt is easy to be swapped so—"

"no, they're perfect... thank you," he breathes.

your own eyes widen, gulping down the nervousness that is starting to dwindle down a bit, thankfully. you inwardly smile, relieved at how this is turning out. "think nothing of it! it's just something i thought to do in passing and it's not like there are many others in the defense force who specializes in swordsmanship." your hand reaches up to brush it off.

hoshina suddenly freezes when his eyes latch onto your gloved hand, the piece of stitched up cloth slightly nudged up from your earlier fidgeting to reveal a smidgen of your palm, causing you to tense slightly. you move to hide your hand from his view but your speed is no match against his; the man snatches it into his own, frowning deeply.

he puts aside the twin blades and takes a step towards you. one of his slender, much longer fingers slides under the dark fabric, exposing more and more of your palm to his amaranthine gaze at such a slow pace that it just makes the embarrassment to settle even deeper, simmering in the depth of your stomach and causing shivers to run down the length of your back.

eventually, the glove comes off and his eyes rove over the skin of your palm. it's soft to the touch, hoshina thinks. even so, he can't help but to stare at the lines upon lines of raised skin, ragged and roughly positioned on the surface. your hand is severely scarred.

you try to clench your hand into a fist and pull back but the swordsman seems persistent enough that you just relent, looking away to avoid his eyes. "it's bad, isn't it?" you smile, no mirth whatsoever.

play with knives, and you're bound to get nicked, you'd heard once.

his downturned expression remains. "it is. did you get them while refining my new swords?" he questions quietly into the air between you. your teeth catches on your bottom lip before you let out a low hum, "i always get them when i refine your swords.” the space around you grows tight, and the next thing that happens causes your chest to be even tighter.

hoshina moves closer into your space, your forehead almost knocking against him as he brings your palm to his lips. your mouth dries and feels like sandpaper as the airy, featherlight sensation continues to descend on various spots on your skin a few more times, your pulse quickening as he trails them to your wrist. he's careful with his fangs, but the sudden appearance of his tongue has you gasping slightly. it's wet, and it's warm against your skin. "w-what..." you stammer.

"it's beautiful. you're beautiful, y/n," hoshina murmurs, causing the sharp intake of your breath as the blood in your veins pumps in a frenzy.

he glances up to see your fluttering eyes and reddened cheeks. with those as the only indications he needs, he closes the distance to press his lips onto yours in a shy, tender kiss.

finally, your foolish little heart wants to scream. after months of lingering eye contacts, of shy touches, whispered praises and not-so-platonic gestures. after months of dancing around these intense, dizzying feelings.

the softness of your mouth gives to the pressure of his, dancing unhurriedly against each other as you savor the heat he emits. hoshina holds you close, your imperfectly perfect hand cradled protectively against his chest as his free hand comes up to steady a palm over your warm cheek.

he pulls back slowly to give you space and take a minute but you follow him, eyes still closed and lips chasing after his in an attempt to be connected once more. hoshina breathes out a chuckle and calls out for you, fondness seeping out from each syllable of your name that has you opening your eyes to peer at his own.

and here, as the first rays of sunlight pour through the windows of the library, casting a golden hue across the room and painting him in such an exquisite way it leaves the air rushing out of your lungs. the bell chimes somewhere in your mind, the musical vibrations synchronizing with the love you hold for the man in front of you.

somewhere in the back of your mind, you’ve never thought so beautifully of your hands ever before.

what i would give to be otp with hoshina like i'm his actual gf ... *cries in non fiction

©🅁🅈🄴🅂🄲🄰🄿🄰🄳🄴🅂. do not steal, translate or repost my work anywhere else !

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matramancer · 3 months ago

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pt. 2 | NARUMI GEN WITH A MITSURI! LIKE READER🌸

🌸Previously we focused a lot on Mitsuri! Reader’s background, now, I want to show her relationship to Gen in particular after becoming a platoon leader and drop some interactions with Kikoru!

part 1 | Masterlist

🌸Tags: narumi pining stage(?). oblivious Narumi, mutual pining, mutual admiration, friends to lovers but not yet question mark, loser narumi, OBAMITSU NARUMI AND READER!!!

Well into your time in the First Division, you’ve established a rather interesting sense of partnership with Narumi Gen.

At first, the two of you were still quite stiff, what with how it seemed like you and Narumi were just too different in terms of personality.

One was a lousy trash man–brash, childish and stuck to his handheld when he wasn’t on the field, and while the other was a happy go lucky, passionate girl who grew to be well loved for her demeanor, you were quite shy when it came to approaching him. After all, he IS your captain and the man on top of the Defense Force. You had a great deal of respect for him even before you joined arms. In fact, striving to be worthy to stand with him–to be stronger, was the collective ambition of every officer there.

After finally earning his acknowledgement, you ended up spending more and more time with him. Since you caught his eye with your strength. then you’ll have to keep honing it if you were to prove your existence. So you trained and trained, kept your limbs stretched, made sure your flexibility and agility always stayed fresh in your blood. Turn it into second nature.

And whenever the captain threw his hand in and actually showed up for a couple of rounds to spar you, you gave it your all. It became clear that he in particular took part in stoking your flames with his principle. To show results.

With that in mind, you’ve been building blocks since the very beginning, he notes one day, rummaging through your files and every assessment result.

Your shooting range assessments during your time as a rookie. Physical check ups. Combat training. Laps. They were above average–it’s what landed you in the First Division in the first place.

But what made you shine was your insane physical prowess, and how superhuman you were with transferring your power to the weapon you held.

Your terrain practice and obstacle shooting course held the highest rookie records. Your field reports never lied, there was even drone footage. Then there was the daikaiju incident, where you wielded an entire machine gun and amassed such a formidable blast upon first use, the numbers were too overwhelming for a rookie.

He remembers another report he got after your health assessment. They had studied the composition of your muscles, your combat levels, and more. Gotten real up and personal with you, so much so that you noted the experience while looking away.

He’ll never forget Isao’s words after Hasegawa recounted their discoveries in his office. Your extreme constitution, your rapidly increasing combat power, your leap in abilities as soon as you donned on your suit. Your power.

“Another prodigy right after Ashiro Mina.” Narumi paused as Isao turned to face the both them. “The next piece of the puzzle for the Defense Force.”

If Mina was the missing link to fight daikaiju–humanity’s biggest threat at the time, then you were second just to her to complete the frontlines. Another sleeping tiger.

Isao himself gave him and Hasegawa an order. One that drove home the responsibility he had as your captain now. “Hone her strength. A girl with her potential belongs in our main defenses.”

He made you sound all cool and all, but as soon as Narumi made his way to the training hall, he was flabbergasted as you held a comically long photostrip filled with the pictures of the cats you had back at home, gushing over them with several of your platoon members.

“I love Nekotarou, General Whiskers the 2nd, and Meowy Antoinette soooo much!” Were those the names of your cats? He wonders. “I’m going to spend my life savings on building a shrine in their image near Yokohama Station.“ Impossible.

Hearing that gave Narumi whiplash. Right, the daikaiju prodigy that even Mr. Isao acknowledged…

So there you were one day, nervously looking down at a serious private meeting with your Captain and Vice Captain. “You know, Mr. Isao went over some of your assessments some time ago.” Your heart immediately dropped, your shocked expression instantly showing on your face.

“DIRECTOR GENERAL SHINOMIYA?!?!?!?!” Narumi watched as you, noting how you were akin to watching a hamster get scared by loud noise.

You quickly regain your composure (though you still looked comedically nervous in Narumi’s peering eyes) as he read out your achievements. You’ve already proved yourself well, with a high performance level that was brimming with potential.

But most notably, it was your high physical prowess and how superhuman you were with transferring your power to the weapon you held. That was what made you a force to be reckoned with,

“So, with that in mind–” Hasegawa stood up, followed by Narumi. “As a newly appointed platoon leader with one of the strongest, most unique combat power readings we’ve had in the force, we will start work on your special weapon.”

“...” You stare at the two of them. Narumi stares back. Hasegawa paces his sight between the two of you. Then, the words processed in your head, and you let out the biggest beamful smile they’ve set their eyes on. “THANK–THANK YOU SO MUCH!” you stifled a few tears, following them like a duckling to meet with Izumo Tech.

And after a long testing period, you were bestowed with what the people at the weaponries department could only describe as a weapon as unique as its user. Your whip-sword.

With how unique your weapon was, it was imperative for you to train twice as hard–learning the ropes and making sure your new fighting style was worth all the effort. Your pride as an officer–a bearer of a special weapon relied on this. That was when Narumi rolled in, and when he wanted to test your strength himself, you eagerly accepted. Unexpectedly, it turned into a new tradition between the two of you.

Around this time was the turning point of how you slowly broke out of just simple subordination to him, and towards a strange yet delightful symbiotic relationship, one where you didn’t just acknowledge each other’s strengths, but learned more about the person behind them. He started talking to you more once you asked him excitedly about what games he plays, and he started to eat the meals you brought.

Truth to be told, your journey only became more arduous then. You were strong, sure, but you still couldn’t hold a candle to Narumi. And it only spurred you on further.

A particularly remarkable moment between the two of you was the first time you really voiced your compliments to him outloud (to Hasegawa’s dismay…)

It was when he beat you in hand to hand combat one day, and perhaps something felt different with how you were pushing your blood circulation and heart beat to the limit, but it was super clear that he really went all out that day. And he was admirable. “You’re amazing, Captain!”

“Of course,” he was to reply to you instinctively, but the sheer look of admiration you had sprawled on your face despite getting floored took him by surprise. You were always holding back a little around him–though he knew from word of mouth that you really were a very excitable person–so to see this other side of you was still pretty new for him. He just soaks in your words as you continue.

“Your form is amazing, how long did it take you to perfect it?” “I need to up my precision too. Yours is so remarkable.” “Please let me spar with you more!”

Perhaps you let your mouth run a little too loose by then. “I hope to one day earn my place next to you, Narumi–” You stop. Narumi stops. Then, your hands fly to your mouth as you let out a choked sound of what seemed to be your life regrets. “--I’m sorry!!!” Your forehead had already hit the floor multiple times before he registered your apology, seeing you fret over thinking that you overstepped a line.

But things are okay. You’re good friends now. He’s confident with that. He’s seen all 2760 of the pictures in your “my cats❤️❤️” album on your phone. He has all your favorite foods memorized. He knows the best ways to bait you.

He also had a huge ego boost when you showed up one day with the ends of your hair dyed a new color, following the long tradition of the 1st Division platoon leaders.

Has been scolded once or twice by Hasegawa for making you stay up late helping him farm dungeons on his BS5. When Narumi rebutted that he was your captain and that this was “an important mission”, Hasegawa promptly shot him down by stating that it was abuse of power.

He was actually the first person you showcased your new fighting style with your whip-sword to. Still couldn’t believe that you actually named it after your cats.

When the time came for you to use your new weapon on the field for the first time, you felt a bit more pressured than you should. Despite the fruitful results from in house training, the field is a very different environment, and you couldn’t afford to mess up. This test drive meant a lot–developing your weapon probably took a fortune–and you didn’t want to disappoint Narumi. He spent so much time with you. For you.

You move towards the approaching Yoju with total concentration, launching yourself in the air. “MTS-1437 field test commenced. Initiate subjugation,” Kurusu announced through the comms whilst giving you clearance, the operations room watching expectantly.

To say it was a success was an understatement. Not when the entire operation room seemed to look at your floating figure in awe, your sword gracefully twirling around your body. You looked as light as the wind, so graceful and elegant as you zeroed in on the yoju, before unleashing an onslaught of the techniques you spent so much practice on. Seeing you with your sword dance didn’t just fit your entire being amazingly – It felt so right.

Inside of him, Narumi felt a sense of achievement, watching you from the operations room as well.

“...Did she just say Catlove Shower?” He tensed, coughing a bit.

His memories bring him back to the specialized training room the both of you frequented, when you had eagerly just showed him your techniques. He remembers how gleefully you smiled, how your eyes turned into half moons from how elated you were after he gave you his approval. It was just a “good job” he thought, but it must have meant the world for you. Your place in the force must have meant the world for you. Something in his heart started to tug.

Before he realized it himself, a snide remark came out of his throat. “She was really happy with the names she thought up–so shut it.” Everyone near his vicinity tensed, looking at him in shock. No one expected him to comment that, not even Hasegawa.

As mentioned in the previous headcanons, you and Narumi have grown accustomed to each other’s fighting style. As you also worked with the combo of gunmanship to melee–though not exactly similar, you had turned to him for a lot of pointers. Not only that, but the joint weapon training you underwent with him contributed a lot to both of your understandings of how the other fought. So, it was no surprise that your battle sense became more reminiscent of his.

Narumi only let you join his side as soon as he knew he didn’t have to worry about you. As much as he valued you as a person and the friendship you had, he knew that the laws of the battlefield were strict. He couldn’t trust himself if he couldn’t trust you to handle your own. Especially when the 1st Division handled the toughest of kaijus.

His tough love and constant, merciless training made you stronger. And truthfully, seeing you advancing so rapidly in his eyes scared him a bit (was this what Isao felt?). So he was immensely tough on you. You had to be strong.

But when it came to Narumi and your beloved 1st Division officers, you quickly reminded them of the you behind your strength. The (Y/N) that smiled and earned herself the title of the Pillar of Love, the pink creature that made up the most unlikely duo on planet Earth with Narumi Gen.

It’s the mutual understanding and respect you have with each other that brought your bond both in and out of the battlefield this far.

So when Kikoru rolled in, she couldn’t help but admire you. At the time of her transfer, you were a name she’s heard whispers about. The 1st Division’s pillar of love. An expert heavy hitter who excels in mid ranged combat. Exactly someone she could confide in in improving her techniques with the axe.

And Gen used this to his advantage.

“Oi, Narumi.” He winces in pain as you whack the top of his head in place of Hasegawa, letting out a string of complaints. “As much as I love Kikoru-chan, I don’t think General Shinomiya would appreciate it if you threw all the training to me.”

“I told you, it’s our dual responsibility,” he says in between button mashing his console, “I gave you the order to help teach her the ropes. You have a similar combat style with hers.”

“I trained with you, and you’re training with her. Which means I’m training with–” cutting off his speech, you brazenly pick up his lawn chair, balancing the captain as you carried the seat to the training grounds. You made it look so easy.

“My apologies, captain!” Kikoru watches in stunned silence as you haul him over to where the two of you were previously sparring, dropping him on the ground gently whilst listening to his childish rebuttals.

The blonde only watched as Narumi rose from his seat and yelled out more curses in an annoyed frenzy, now chasing you in circles as you held his handheld controller. You were expertly dodging him too, maneuvering the strikes he made with his hands and feet. Yet it despite the showcase of skill, it all felt too goofy to be real.

Was that… really the strongest kaiju combatant in Japan and the famed love pillar?

“GIVE THAT BACK!” Narumi yells, reenacting a forward strike so cleanly, it had Isao written all over it. He narrowly misses your body mid jump.

“MY APOLOGIES!” Your apologetic tone could not be more contrasting than your actions as your legs landed on his head, pummeling Narumi to the ground for your landing.

At this point, even Kafka was watching with his jaw on the floor, Kikoru beside him watching intently. “Even in a light quarrel, those two are masters in their field! But still…” She zeroes in on the tug of war for Narumi’s console between the two of you.

…Could she really trust the two of you during her time here?

A/n: Part three with wingman Kikoru question mark?

#kaiju no 8 #kaiju no. 8 #kaiju hachigo #kaijuno8 #kaiju 8 #kaiju no 8 x reader #kaiju no. 8 x reader #reader insert #narumi gen #narumi gen x reader #gen narumi #gen narumi x reader #gen narumi x you #kikoru shinomiya

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songsofadelaide · 4 months ago

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prism — a side story to cosmic.

cw: captain narumi x (f) platoon leader, established (secret) relationship, fluff and smut, takes place between iv and v of cosmic. no use of 'yn'. narumi gen is his own warning. minors do not interact.

wc: 3k

You were no stranger to an observant eye. As a Platoon Leader, you were subject to your superiors' watchful surveillance and your team members's discerning gazes. It came as no surprise to you when the Captain of the First Division presented you with an upgrade to your beloved personal weapon, the submachine gun marked FE-0080 or Reginleif and asked for you to demonstrate your marksmanship that brought Asakusa's scorpion-type Honju to its knees.

So you acquiesced to your Captain's command and joined the rookies in their shooting training. You didn't back down from a posed challenge, after all, and you impressed your platoon members and fellow Platoon Leaders once more with your precise marksmanship.

When Gen first took notice of your personal weapon, he surmised it was specifically made to pair with your speed. Anything heavier would weigh you down. Reginleif was a submachine gun made for more close combat offensives and had less firepower than a machine gun or a rifle, but it made up for its lack of strength with its speed and automatic mechanism.

"Unleashed Combat Power is at 67%."

As you finished setting a record for the rookies to beat, whispers from other division members filled the air.

"The Platoon Leader's super quick, huh? It's almost like she vanishes into thin air."

"She even beat Platoon Leader Tachibana during the joint training exercises between the Eastern Divisions. That's how Captain Narumi discovered her."

"Speaking of which, she and the Captain have been spending a lot of time together..."

Gen himself didn't notice the amount of time you two were spending together. It was lost to him, but the memory of his enjoyment remained— you coming to see him, summoned or not. One day, your presence simply became natural, like a second instinct, until it became a necessity, especially for him.

You sitting next to him in his office, sometimes as Player 2 but most of the time just plain old you. You in your tracksuit uniform with nothing but a white tee underneath. You mindlessly scrolling through your social media while he stormed through whatever game he was playing, warming his bed until you had to leave him— whether it was due to an emergency or just because the day had ended. The sound of your laughter and derision filled his office and he can't seem to snap out of his compulsion to steal the rest of your sound straight away from your lips.

He signalled for the end of the shooting training after the rookies concluded their rounds and dismissed everyone for the rest of the afternoon.

"Captain Narumi, sir," you called out to your superior, who had just finished checking the Operation Leader's report handed to him by your Vice Captain.

"Platoon Leader."

"One of my team members is celebrating their birthday today. They're planning a short trip to the city for drinks this evening," you started as you shadowed Gen's steps back to the base's main hall. "As much as I would love to finish our Maelduin's Portal campaign from earlier, my platoon would appreciate being able to spend some time with me, and I with them. I hope you're amenable, of course…"

He wanted to disagree with you but didn't want to come off as increasingly needy, especially since he knew now that people were already talking about how much time you've been spending together. Was he being needy?

"Enjoy the rest of your evening, then."

Because he certainly didn't.

Your platoon arrived back at base a little before 21:00 and the first thing you wanted to do was take a dip into the baths because you were certain you smelled terrible— a smorgasbord of alcohol, barbecue smoke and cigarette ash, no thanks to the old smokers seated next to your group's long table.

But Gen had other plans in mind that derailed your quick trip to the baths.

A single notification lit up from your mobile phone as you placed it on the desk in your personal quarters.

[ N. Gen-隊長: I'm outside your room. ]

"Captain Narumi?" You quietly called for him, a tender smile on your face as you opened your door for him. "Did you wait for me all this time?"

Gen smelled like he just got out of the bath, ready to go to bed, while you still smelled of smoke and alcohol. Still, he didn't think twice before embracing you, which you hesitantly returned.

"I still smell like alcohol…" You murmured into the crook of his neck as you gently played with the hair on his nape. "Pretty sure I taste like it, too…"

"I don't really care…" He murmured before diving in for a kiss. Sure enough, you tasted like an evening out, the bitter taste of beer still lingering in your mouth.

"Hey," you said as you gently broke your kiss. "You might be fine with this, but I'm not. I-I mean the way I smell. Please, Gen, let me take a quick bath. I promise I'll be back in five— no, ten minutes. I'll be back and let's pick up where we left off, okay?"

Not even the grumble that left his lips could stop you from grabbing your basket of toiletries plus a change of clothes and leaving him for a bath you promised would be quick.

It was only in the quiet that he realised it was his first time here in your personal quarters. It's always been you visiting him in his office but rarely did you invite him over— for reasons now clear to him.

Your room was incredibly bare, even for a Platoon Leader. Apart from the standard furnishings provided by the Defense Force, nothing in that place anchored you there or made known to others that it was your lodging. You kept no trinkets or little decorations, and on your desk sat your mobile phone, which even had the default wallpaper on.

It had no passcode, either, and he found himself there aptly named 'Captain Narumi Gen' when he took a peep at your messages. All the people in your phonebook were properly labelled and addressed, such as your parents, your elder brother Kanata and his wife Marie, your squad leaders Akabane, Kagomura, Ookawa, and your fellow Platoon Leaders.

You kept no notes, even fewer photos, and Gen was filled with this awful dread that you'd leave no trace behind if anything ever happened to you. His thoughts were soon replaced by a wave of comfort when he plopped down on your bed. "At least your pillows smell like you…"

He almost nodded off too if not for your arrival. You were still a little damp from your quick soak, your skin still warm and balmy as you shut your door behind you. "Are you still awake, Captain?"

"Yeah, I am. S'impossible to fall asleep here in your room," he said as he sat up again, quietly observing the way you neatly stashed your belongings in your single closet.

"Really, now? I'd expect you to get a good night's rest here since I have a proper bed and all," you chuckled at his response. "Or are you so used to sleeping on a futon that a bed's uncomfortable for you?"

"No. Your bed… smells like you," he stated, a hand sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck this time. You were fresh out of the bath, still practically buzzing with warmth, and it made him uneasy in an exciting way. "It's…"

"Is it nasty?" You asked as you made your approach. You were in similar standard white shirts and black sweatpants and Gen visibly swallowed as you sat closely next to him. "Captain Narumi?"

"Don't… Don't call me that now," he grunted at you, his lip trembling in anticipation as you raised a hand to cup his cheek.

"Gen…"

Ah, his name sounded so, so sweet whenever it left your lips, but this time even more, and he was this close to stealing that sweetness himself if you hadn't scooched over to kiss him yourself. It was tender and affectionate and somewhat apologetic, tasting of green tea mouthwash this time, until you broke away from him and stuck out your tongue to lick the corner of his mouth.

You did it in such a teasing manner but he couldn't even smile— because he was already so, so hard. He pulled out his erection from under his sweatpants and guided your hand to it, his breath hitching as he felt your warm fingers curl around his length and stroke him at a leisurely pace.

Though you couldn't see his eyes, you were certain he had a heady, cloudy, half-lidded gaze on you. He followed your steady movement with bated breath as you got down on your knees and placed yourself between his thighs.

"Doing it here in my room has its advantages," you told him as you started stroking him again, your breath ghosting over his length. "No one's gonna come in here unannounced…"

Gen let out a low hiss when you flicked out your tongue and slowly licked the tip of his cock, taking all the time in the world to do so.

"Ggh… S-Stop it already—" He grunted yet again, and though he told you to stop, it was clear he meant otherwise by the way he had a guiding hand on the crown of your head. "Ugh…"

Hearing the sound of his voice dipping and straining in pleasure encouraged you to do even better for him. He shuddered as you gradually received him in your mouth.

…Maybe he did find a way to tame that smart mouth of yours after all.

The pace of your blowjob was pleasant, but you knew he was close by the way his thighs closed around you. He tried to wriggle away from you, but you shook your head at him and gently picked up the pace, your cheeks hollowed out as you sucked on him a bit more.

He took your refusal to let him go as a sign that you'll receive his seed in your mouth, so he obliged you, his body convulsing as he held your head in his hands. A low, guttural moan he obviously tried to suppress escaped his lips as you swallowed his cum, thick strings stuck in the back of your throat, and you eventually released him with a soft 'pop' from your slightly swollen lips.

"My good girl," his praise was caught between his soft exhales. He pulled you up into his arms and allowed you to tenderly sweep back his hair that curtained his lovesick gaze.

"You're so handsome," you told him with a smile, your fingers gently toying with the hair on his nape once more. Gen adored being the recipient of such compliments, even more so from you, but he still gets embarrassed from time to time. He's red up to his neck now, his hands warm on your waist.

"My good girl," he said yet again, his wine-coloured eyes holding your own heady gaze. One hand wandered underneath your shirt while the other dipped under the waistband of your sweatpants, deft fingers rhythmically running over the moistness between your legs. His lips curl into a teasing smile as your expression fades into one of pleasure.

He was already hard again, but he didn't want to be so greedy. Neither did he want the night to end so soon. He did away with your clothes, all similarly and carelessly tossed aside as he motioned for you to lie down on your back for him. A glint of mischief lit his eyes as he placed himself between your legs, lowering his face to your thighs, peppering them with light and faint kisses before he eventually opened his mouth to taste you.

Another rapid rush of pleasure shot through your body as he gripped your thighs and happily ate you out, playing deaf to your impatient whines as he leisurely and unhurriedly licked and lapped at your folds.

"Tell me what you want, my good girl," Gen whispered, his low and lazy voice hot against your sopping pussy. He already knew what you wanted by the way you ground against his mouth, the burning sultriness between your legs threatening to overflow onto the rest of his face. He slid a finger knuckle-deep into you and thrust at what he believed was an agreeable pace given the sound of your moans, which you were trying your hardest to suppress.

His fingers were skilled and reached the places you never could on your own, but you needed more. "P…"

"If you tell me, 'please put it in my pussy', then I'll do it."

Oh, you wanted to hurl so many complaints at him, but your impatience already showed in your countenance and he was clearly enjoying this. "Well? Hurry up and say it."

"M… My p… ah…" You pathetically whimpered at him, your voice cracking as he broke into another crooked grin.

"Use your words, my pretty girl. I can't really understand you."

Tears welled in the corners of your eyes as you relented to his teasing, your legs quivering at the leisurely pace he's taken. "Please… Please put it in my p-pussy…!"

It didn't take long for Gen to take charge after hearing you plead for him so earnestly. He was already as stiff as a pole, anyway, so he angled himself over you and slid his length over the burning wetness of your pussy before thrusting into you.

The pace he moved at was gratifying for you both, the sound of your whines was enough of a confirmation for him.

"Ah…" You coiled your arms around his neck, trembling at his warm touch, his calluses rough yet ticklish against your skin, especially when he sank his fingers into the plushness of your breasts. "Gh…"

Why does it feel like this? You managed a thought as he fucked you deep into your sheets and mattress, the sound of your soft moans and his pleased groans filling the air in the room. You knew you'd be dead if someone else heard you, but you couldn't consider being considerate now— because he's s-so good…!

Gen's bangs fell over his eyes again, hiding away the blissed-out look on his face. He knew it didn't matter that much to you anymore and neither did it to him— because all he could think about at that moment was burying his cock deep into you— fuck good manners and propriety!

You were seeing stars now, his pace slightly rushed and rough and it could only mean that he was just as close to finishing as you were. "D-Don't… don't stop…"

But he knew he had to. He was smarter than this. He knew he had to pull out. You couldn't afford to— at a time like this, too!

Yet in between his blissed-out euphoria and common sense was a single thought: a family. With you. Your stomach round with a child that was a heap of trouble like he was—

"P-Please, Gen… I'm so close…!"

He snapped back to his sweet reality— your walls tightening around him as he thrust with even more urgency this time.

"Cum for me, then, my good girl," he managed to chuckle at you. You choked out another small cry as tears filled your eyes again in a wave of oscillating pleasure, your spasms making it difficult for him to pull out as he intended.

"Y-You can cu—"

Gen pulled out of you panting the moment you were about to say he could finish inside you instead, opting to spill his scorching cum all over your stomach. He caught his breath before flicking his middle finger on your forehead with all his tender might.

"Ow! Wh-What was that for?!"

"At least let me put a ring on you before you ask me to cum inside ya!"

"You didn't have to hit me that hard."

"It wasn't even that hard."

A large bandaid was spread over your forehead where your boyfriend last exacted his violence on you. Your quiet breakfast for two at the mess hall the following morning was cut short when Eiji sat next to Gen with his breakfast, along with a clean folder that contained only two sheets of paper.

"Good morning, Narumi. And the Platoon Leader, too. Once you're done eating, I'll need you two to fill out these forms," he stated as he handed you one of the sheets with a header in bold letters that read Workplace Relationship Disclosure Form.

"O-Oh," came your slightly startled reaction as you realised what it was. You placed down your utensils and read the information that had to be filled out. "S-So, do I write 'boyfriend' here? This is so embarrassing…"

"The hell do you mean it's embarrassing? Are you embarrassed to be with me? Embarrassed that I'm your boyfriend?!" Gen yapped at you as he filled out the form handed to him. You were shocked to see him filling out the paperwork himself, even more so when he wrote 'fiancée' next to your name.

"If there is anything to be embarrassed about, it's keeping your fellow Platoon Leaders awake at night because of your… raucous behaviour," your Vice Captain stated with a feigned cough, and though it was clearly addressed to you, his sharp gaze was directed at your Captain. "If you don't want the top brass to hear about this and mete out a punishment for you both, I suggest you refrain from doing it here at base."

"O-Of course, V-Vice Captain Hasegawa! It won't happen again!" You squeaked at the older man and gave him a stiff bow.

Gen gaped at your quick surrender before eventually turning to Eiji, who had yet to start his meal. "Haa? We're actually doing important work here! They can consider this our attempt at preserving my lineage, Japan's Strongest— Ow!"

The older man flicked his middle finger at the young Captain's forehead this time. "Since everyone's talking about you two anyway, let's give them more to gossip about. But I expect not to hear anything about it again starting tomorrow."

#songsofadelaidewrites💛#kaiju no. 8 #kaiju no.8 x reader #narumi gen x reader #things i can't stop thinking abt lol #starry divider by @/cafekitsune

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90s-music-tourney · 1 month ago

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All songs have been chosen for the 90s music tourney

Lithium by Nirvana

Rebel Girl by Bikini Kill

Ironic by Alanis Morrisette

She don't use Jelly by Flaming Lips

Iris by Goo Goo Dolls

What's Up by 4 non blondes

Peaches by Presidents of the United States

Criminal by Fiona Apple

Bitch by Meredith Brooks

Good Riddance (Time of your Life) by Green Day

… Baby One More Time by Britney Spears

Sober by TOOL

Breakfast at Tiffany's by Deep Blue Something

Wonderwall by Oasis

Love Fool by The Cardigans

baby got back by sir mix-a-lot

whatta man by salt n peppa

No Scrubs by TLC

Istanbul (Not Constantinople) by They Might Be Giants

Losing my Religion by REM

Fem in a Black Leather Jacket by Pansy Division

No Rain by Blind Melon

Friday I'm in Love by The Cure

Mr. Jones by Counting Crows

Californication by Red Hot Chili Peppers

Tubthumping by Chumbawamba

Zombie by Cranberries

Smooth By Santana Ft. Rob Thomas

One Week by Barenaked Ladies

Semi Charmed Life by Third Eye Blind

Kiss Me by Sixpence None the Richer

All Star by Smash Mouth

Buddy Holly by Weezer

My Heart Will Go On by Celine Dion

Genie in a Bottle By Christina Aguilera

Barbie Girl by Aqua

Spice up your life by Spice Girls

Steal My Sunshine By Len

Cannonball by the Breeders

Bittersweet Symphony by the Verve

What is Love By haddaway

Follow you down by Gin Blossom

Freedom by George Michael

Nothing Compares to You by Sinead o Connor

Around the World by Daft Punk

Laid by James

Possum Kingdom by Toadies

Flagpole Sitta by Harvey Danger

Only Happy When it Rains by Garbage

Bullet with Butterfly Wings by Smashing Pumpkins

Sunny Came Home by Shawn Colvin

Pepper by Butthole Surfers

Mother Mother by Tracy Bonham

Tim I wish you were born a girl by of Montreal

Voodoo by Godsmack

Mambo No. 5 by Lou Bega

Livin La Vida Loca by Ricky Martin

Just a Girl by No Doubt

Closer by Nine Inch Nails

California Live by Tupac

I will Always Love you by Whitney Houston

Give Me One Reason by Tracy Chapman

Good Day by Ice Cube

Gin and Juice by Snoop Dogg

Dragula by Rob Zombie

My Name is by Eminem

You Get What You Give by New Radicals

No Diggity by Blackstreet

Loser by Beck

pretty fly (for a white guy) by the offspring

What's my Age Again by Blink-182

I want it that way by the Backstreet Boys

Intergalactic By the Beastie Boys

Two Princes by Spin Doctor

Killing in the Name by Rage Against the Machine

Girls and Boys by Blur

Where is my mind by the Pixies

Closing Time by Semisonic

Creep by Radiohead

Say My Name by Destiny's Child

Jump Around by House of Pain

Check the Rhime by A Tribe Called Quest

November Rain by Guns n Roses

The Distance by CAKE

Every You, Every Me by Placebo

The Sign by Ace of Base

Vogue by Madonna

Don't Let Go (Love) by En Vogue

Mm Bop by Hansen

Believe By Cher

Mo Money, Mo Problems by Notorious BIG

Gold Soundz by Pavement

The Rain (Supa Dupa Fly) by Missy Elliot

Common People by Pulp

Doll Parts by Hole

Gangsta's Paradise by Coolio

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captain-price-unofficially · 2 months ago

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Soldier H.E. Goddard of the Perth Regiment, carrying a Bren Light Machine gun on his shoulder, as he moves through a forest north of Arnhem with the 5th Canadian Division. Netherlands, April 1945

#wwii #liberation of holland #western front

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blurredcolour · 11 months ago

Text

We'll Meet Again

[One-shot]

Eugene Roe x Nurse!Female Reader

Nine hours is all it takes for Eugene Roe to realize that his hesitance to share his feelings for you was completely misguided.

Warnings: Language, Weapons, Canon Typical Violence, Smoking, Treatment of Wounds, Medical Procedures, Hospital Settings, Pining, Questionably Written Cajun Accent, Inevitable Historical and Military Inaccuracies, Mature/Explicit Themes - 18+ ONLY

Author’s Note: The title of this fic is based off the song We'll Meet Again by Vera Lynn (I recommend the version where she is accompanied by Sailors, Soldiers & Airmen of His Majesty's Forces). This is a work of fiction based off the portrayal by the actors in the HBO series. I hold nothing but respect for the real life individuals referenced within.

Word Count: 7578

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

“Roe it’s not mine, I’m alright. Roe.” Eugene was vaguely aware of your voice as he pulled at your blood drenched field jacket, fingers fumbling slightly as he fought with the buttons before he was able to delve beneath, beginning to tug at your sweater and wool shirt, desperate to find where you were hit. “I’m fine, please…Eugene!” You grabbed his wrists forcefully, your blood-slicked fingers sliding against his skin, but it was enough to finally pull his attention to your face. “It’s not my blood, I’m alright.” You repeated gently as his eyes met yours and he exhaled at last.

He frowned anew as he lifted a hand to wipe at the splatter of arterial spray across your cheek, succeeding only in smudging the scarlet across your beautiful skin, marring it further. You sighed and gestured with your head to the SS officer laying on the table behind him, his now-unseeing eyes staring blankly up at the ceiling, the wound at his neck obviously the source of all the blood you wore.

You tugged at his left wrist, which you still held within your grasp, and he looked back to you quickly, following as you led him over to a bank of sinks at the back of the room. As you released him, he watched you grimace slightly at the sensation of the blood growing slightly tacky between your skin and his. You took both his hands in yours and gently began to wash them.

Eugene’s heart throbbed tenderly as he watched the warm water sluice pink before your fingers thoroughly coated his skin with soap then rinsed it clean. Looking up to you with a soft smile, he was reminded of the state of your face and quickly swiped it clean with his wet thumb, lips stretching hopelessly wider at your warm grin.

“Nine hou’s.” He sighed, jaw clenching as his chest constricted painfully, the terror and anguish he’d been desperately trying to hold at bay all day flooding back to him.

“What?” You asked, confusion painting your face and he swallowed roughly, having to fight to focus while standing in your presence after so many months apart.

“Ya were missin’ – a hostage – fo’ nine hou’s.” He pressed his lips together, struggling to hold back the depth and breadth of his feelings on the matter.

He watched you swallow and put on that brave smile you wore for the sake of soothing your patients. “It was just like any other nine hours, except there were German patients and machine guns.”

“Please don’ give me tha’ smile.” He muttered sadly. “Are ya really alrigh’?” He pressed, eyeing you meaningfully.

Your brow twitched, mouth opening, looking about answer his question when the door to the room opened and you stepped back to grab a towel, handing it to him. “I’m just fine, Roe, thank you for asking. The rest of the SS patients are through that door there.” You gestured, nodding to the latest arrival, Webster, who quickly went through to secure the next room with Liebgott hot on his heels.

Roe watched as you assumed your professional mantle, leading him into the room where seven SS men, prisoners now, were being looked after by the rest of the nurses that had been in your hospital convoy when the 6th SS Mountain Division had decided to take you all hostage to provide them with medical care in this abandoned nursing home near Juchen. The women immediately flocked to you for direction and Eugene realized that you now wore a silver 1st Lieutenant’s insignia on your collar, promoted since he’d first met you that night in February of last year in Swindon.

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

“These heels are killing me…” You muttered as you finally escaped the dancefloor to sit at the table next to Eugene’s, wedging yourself into the corner defensively.

He’d been watching you all night. Watching as trooper after trooper of the 506th from Able right through Item asked you to dance, barely giving you a moment to sit despite how tired you looked, behind that beautiful smile of yours, and how time and again you accepted, too polite to refuse.

“I’m surprised you didn’t wear your combat boots.” One of your tablemates teased.

A mischievous grin crossed your features and Eugene ducked his head as he found his lips twitching automatically in response to it. “Well, I would have except every time I upend the things, I still find sand from North Africa.”

A chorus of laughter flitted around the table and Eugene was convinced that yours was the most beautiful sound he’d ever heard, finding himself thoroughly annoyed when it was extinguished by a couple of men sidling over to pull a few of your fellow nurses onto the dancefloor again.

“What was it like…over there…” A timid voice piped up as the band began to play that Vera Lynn song the Brits were crazy about and Eugene risked a glance at your face as you addressed a young woman, she could not be much older than twenty, only the two of you remaining at the table.

“Well, Barbara,” You paused thoughtfully, eyes focusing on some distant memory, the hints of fatigue he’d seen lurking beneath your smile coming to the fore for a brief moment before you turned to your colleague with a reassuring warmth. “It’s exactly like they say it’ll be.” You nodded firmly.

The girl’s shoulders relaxed as she smiled in relief, nodding in renewed confidence as you each took a sip of your drink. Eugene swallowed, wishing he could hear your real thoughts on North Africa, not just the canned propaganda reels put together to show before the pictures, but the firsthand account of a medical professional. There was only so much training could prepare them for, and they all knew as soon as the weather was right, they were headed for France.

Despite the longing he felt to do so, Eugene did not ask you to dance that night. He drank a few beers and smoked more than a few cigarettes as you forced yourself onto the dancefloor three additional times before you and the youngest of your companions decided to call it a night. Eugene felt that was a sensible idea – the number of buses back to Aldbourne was growing increasingly limited by the hour.

As dictated by the blackout, clumps of people were walking on either side of the road with their flashlights pointed downward, barely lighting their way as vehicles with their headlights reduced to mere slits wended their way through the crowd of inebriated celebrants. Eugene could not help but feel like it was a recipe for disaster, but your laughter, like the peal of bells, pulled his attention from across the darkened street.

“It’s snowing!” You declared with a wonder-filled gasp, and he blinked up at the sky to feel the kiss of melting snowflakes on his cheeks, his breath curling and hanging in the notably colder air.

The peace of the moment was shattered as an unruly group of men from Fox company bolted across the road, trying to reach the same bus stop he was heading for, a drunken straggler not seeing the delivery van and unfortunately the driver not seeing him either – until it was too late. There was a squealing of tires, a ‘crash’ as the load within the van was displaced, and a sickening ‘crunch’ followed by a wail of pain. Eugene lunged into the street, surprised to find you already kneeling beside the victim as you looked him over.

“What’s your name, trooper?” You were smiling warmly, your colleague hovering behind you nervously as the driver had begun pacing anxiously.

“Robert Boye, Ma’am.” He replied through clenched teeth.

Unlike the calm look on your face, your hands were a flurry of movement, honing in on the compound fracture on the man’s leg, lifting your fingers into the slim beams of light to reveal blood from where the bone had broken through his skin. Eugene was already undoing his belt when you turned to him, and you graced him with a brilliant smile that had his adrenaline-fueled heart skipping a few beats.

“I’m a medic, Ma’am. Tourniquet?”

“On his thigh, please, trooper.” You nodded, shrugging out of your overcoat to drape over Boye. “We’re going to get you to a hospital, alright Robert. Just hold on.” Standing quickly, you walked over to the delivery driver though Eugene wasn’t able to hear your conversation as he finished checking over the man in the road, confirming there were no other apparent injuries.

“You’e from Fox company, righ’?”

“Yeah, that’s right…Easy?” He replied, shaking from the cold or shock – or both, most likely.

Eugene nodded in reply, lifting his eyes as the delivery driver raised his voice at you, the sound of crates and empty milk jugs hitting the sidewalk filling the night air.

“Ya crazy Yankee cunt, what in god’s name d’ya think yer doin’?!”

By then quite a crowd had gathered in the road, and the slur hurled your way had more than just Eugene’s hackles up. Undeterred, you stepped forward, looking the rude and careless man directly in the eye. “You’ve struck an innocent pedestrian and now you’re going to make it right, sir. Your cargo will be right where you left it.”

He returned the look coldly but seemed increasingly aware of the looming threat in the darkness about you, eventually huffing in agreement. You provided directions to a hospital Eugene recognized as the nearest American hospital, surely that was where you were stationed, before sending several men to help him load Boye into the back.

“Medic, please come with me?” You looked to him as you climbed into the van and Eugene nodded quickly, jumping into the back with you as you looked to the wide-eyed young woman standing at the curb, watching you in awe.

“Barbara, go back inside and find Fran. Get her to walk you home.”

“Y..yes Ma’am!” She nodded quickly before hurrying back toward the dance hall as the back doors of the van were closed, leaving the three of you in darkness as the van lurched into motion.

“Medic…” You huffed and introduced yourself properly before asking him his name.

“Eugene Roe, Ma’am.” He replied quickly, turning on his flashlight. He was rewarded once again with one of your heart-stopping smiles.

“Wonderful, you have a flashlight. Thank you. How’re you holding up Robert?” You turned your attention back to the patient, checking his pulse at his wrist, pressing a hand to his forehead – most likely to assess for temperature and perspiration.

“Hurts an awful lot, Ma’am.” He grunted as the van hit a rut and you nodded sympathetically, kneeling on the floor beside him in your dress uniform, balancing easily as the van wove its way through the crowd outside the dancehall with more care this time.

“Thank you very much for being so brave for me. Where are you from?”

“Yakima, Washington.”

“Tell me, Robert. If I were to visit Yakima, Washington what is the food I absolutely must try?” You asked, bracing yourself against the roof as the driver took a wide turn.

“My momma’s cherry pie, without a doubt. My father grows bing cherries. Best in the state. And then my momma makes the best pie you will ever eat in your life.” Robert replied with relaxed smile, conversation taking his mind off the pain in his leg.

“Cherry pie – that sounds positively heavenly. So, you grew up on a cherry farm?” Your practiced smile and encouragement prompted the injured man to ramble on about his childhood playing amongst the cherry blossoms, gorging himself on ripe fruit, and skiing in the mountains whilst you the pair of you subtly kept an eye on his wound and vitals. Ever vigilant for a sudden change in demeanour that might signify a head injury or internal bleeding – your patient management was effortless, and Eugene could only feel his affection for you growing.

He was admittedly a little disappointed when the van came to a stop, the flustered driver opening the doors as a duty nurse came outside and gasped to find the three of you in the back of the unassuming vehicle.

“I’ll be right back with a stretcher!” She called out before dashing inside, returning promptly with two orderlies to help load the injured Boye so he might be carted inside.

The pair of you rushed behind into the temporary hospital in a building that looked like it had begun its life as a warehouse of some kind. The shift Doctor appeared from down the hall, and you quickly provided all pertinent information related to treatment.

“Well, you two had best inform the MPs as well, before that driver disappears on us.”

“Yes, sir.” You replied quickly, shooting Eugene an apologetic look before leading him to the MP office at the front of the hospital to make your report, pulling your garrison cap from your head, reminding him to do the same.

You’d barely started your tale when the MP told you both to ‘take a seat’ and dashed out of the office to try and stop the driver and you looked to him with even more pronounced regret. “I’m so sorry, Roe, I’m sure you were just trying to get back to your billet.”

Your use of his last name undoubtedly came from place of professional courtesy, however a part of him ached with the longing to hear how your mouth might form his first name.

“Not at all, Ma’am.” He gestured for you to take one of the empty chairs, only sitting once you had sunk into it with a soft sigh.

“Thank you very much for your help. I was feeling quite adrift with no supplies but then the universe sent me you.” You smiled warmly and he swallowed thickly.

“Ya did all tha work, Ma’am, I was jus’ there.”

Shaking your head stubbornly, he frowned a little as he watched a small shiver roll through you, belatedly realizing your coat had long since vanished with Boye. He started to pull at the jacket of his dress uniform, and you lay a hand on his arm.

“I’m alright, just tired. Based on your accent, I’d say you need your jacket more than me.” You smiled teasingly and he huffed a laugh, looking down at his shoes briefly as he straightened his uniform before lifting his eyes to meet yours quickly.

“It was impressive, Ma’am, how ya stood up ta tha’ man.”

You looked to him earnestly then, not sugar-coating your expression, or your answer, as you had for Barbara. “If we don’t stand up for our patients, Roe, no one will.” You spoke with breathtaking sincerity and all he could muster in response was a firm nod.

The door banged open as the MP hauled the very man in question into the office, his expression going livid as he once again came face to face with you.

“Goddamn Yankee cunt.” He spat at you, making Eugene surge to his feet to stand in front of you protectively, the scent of liquor potent on the man’s breath as he brushed by his rigid frame.

“I’ll be right back to take your statements, one moment.” The MP muttered, putting the uncooperative driver in a back room.

“Could this night get any longer…” You whispered and pinched the bridge of your nose, making Eugene turn back to you.

“How long ya been in England?” He asked, trying your own trick of distraction on you as he resumed his seat.

“Hmm? Oh, landed two weeks ago, I guess. Thought a break from the heat would be nice, hasn’t been quite as quaint as I was led to believe.” You laughed softly and shook your head. “You?”

“Las’ Septembah.”

“Well, I bet you know all the best spots by now then, hmm?” You smirked and he shook his head with rueful smile but did not have the chance to elaborate on his lack of free time as the MP returned to finally take your full statements.

It was nearly two in the morning once all the paperwork was done, the driver of the van turned over to the local police while the MP summoned a subordinate to return the pair of you to your billets.

“See you in a few hours.” The nurse who’d first greeted the pair of you poked her head out of the doorway to the treatment room.

You laughed without much energy. “For sure, Betty. Thanks for your help.”

“You work weekends?” Roe asked quietly, offering a hand to help you into the back of the jeep and you nodded as he settled next to you.

“My days off are Monday, Tuesday.” He must have frowned visibly as you shrugged with a weary smile. “It’s alright, I was the last to arrive here and someone needs to do it.”

As you hugged your arms around yourself tightly in the open back of the vehicle, overcoat still nowhere to be seen, he shifted to try and block the wind with his body. As you shuffled closer, huddling against him slightly, he swallowed thickly, his heart hammering against his ribs.

“You’re going to do great out there, Eugene Roe.” You smiled warmly, the vehicle pulling up outside a nearby shop with an apartment on the second floor.

“Thank ya, Ma’am.” He murmured quietly, taking a shaky breath as you climbed out of the jeep, pausing to wave at him from the curb.

He ought to ask to see you again, to write to you, something, but a part of him was reluctant to start anything he might not be able to see through with his future so very uncertain. He lifted his hand in return as the MP pulled out to drive him back to Aldbourne, regret immediately settling into his gut, leaving a sour aftertaste in his mouth.

Eugene was surprised when his belt arrived at his billet the following Thursday along with a note from you, once again thanking him for his assistance with Robert Boye’s care. You also assured him the patient was doing well and would be ‘fighting fit’ within a few months. He was impressed to see not a trace of blood on the woven fabric, indicating that you had obviously taken the time to clean it for him. Unable to stop the fond smile from unfurling on his features, he quickly hid the note in the pocket of his ODs as he heard Spina’s footsteps on the stairs.

“You coming to London this weekend, Gene?” He asked, sitting heavily on his bed in the corner and Eugene found himself shaking his head in return.

“Too much to do.” He replied vaguely, recalling one of the posters from the hospital hallway calling for blood donations.

“You’re missing out.” Spina teased in a sing-song voice, laying back on his bed once he’d taken off his boots.

The smile you greeted him with Saturday morning when he arrived to donate blood thoroughly convinced him otherwise.

“That’s very generous of you Roe, follow me, I’ll get you set up.” You turned to lead him past a few of the occupied beds and he nodded warmly to Boye as he looked up from a letter he was reading. “If you could take off your jacket and roll up your sleeve please, I’ll be right back with the supplies.” You said as you gestured to a cot, unfolding a privacy screen before turning to fetch the necessities.

Eugene complied, swallowing thickly as he watched the way your hospital dress swished around your hips as you walked away, quite frankly preferring this outfit to your dress uniform. Returning with a collection bottle, needle, and some tubing, you lifted his arm to search for a vein. He swallowed thickly at the goosebumps that rippled across his skin, able to smell the scent of soap lingering on you, the proximity nearly killing him.

“I never did ask, Roe, where are you from?” You glanced at him with your professional smile, fingers settling over their target in the inside of his elbow.

“Loosiana, Ma’am.” He murmured softly, watching you insert the needle so smoothly he barely felt more than a pinch before his blood began to fill the bottle in your hands.

“Louisiana.” You repeated warmly, eyes flicking between the bottle and his face, listening while monitoring the volume you were collecting. “Famous for Mardi Gras, yes?”

He nodded quickly. “Tha’s righ’, yes.”

“A lot warmer than England, hmm?” You chuckled and shook your head.

“Did ya get you’ jacket back?” He tilted his head. “Thank ya fo’ returnin’ ma belt.”

“I did, yes. And again, it was the least I could do.” Your eyes crinkled at the corners as you smiled this time, his heart swelling as he was becoming more skilled at discerning your real versus polite expressions. You pressed a piece of gauze over the needle before pulling it from his arm, the bottle now filled with the crimson fluid from his veins. “Could you apply pressure to that for me please?”

He nodded, fingertips brushing against yours as he took over, a jolt of electricity sizzling through him. Your eyes met his briefly before you turned back to the task at hand, and he could not help but wonder if you had felt it too. As you lay your fingers over his to lift the gauze and take a peek at the puncture in his skin, Eugene bit the inside of his cheek trying to maintain his composure. Replacing it with an adhesive bandage, you handed him a cookie to eat as you jotted down his information on the label on the bottle.

“Thank you aga–” Your gratitude was cut short by a loud crash over by the nurses’ station that had Eugene quickly on his feet though he noticed you barely reacted. “Sorry about that.” You sighed and urged him to sit back down with the gentle pressure of your palm on his shoulder. “I keep trying to fix that darn shelf, but the screws won’t stay in the wall.”

“Sorry!” Called a timid voice Eugene recognized as Barbara from last Friday’s dance and he looked up to you.

“I’d be happy ta take a look at it fo’ ya.”

You eyed him a moment, clearly weighing your desire to impose on him further. “Eat your cookie and then we’ll talk.” You ultimately said and he nearly inhaled the thing.

“I like fixin’ things.” He murmured once he’d swallowed, rolling down his sleeve and following you over to inspect the carnage Barbara had unleashed.

You helped her stack the last of the clipboards and manuals that were scattered across the floor onto the edge of the desk as Eugene looked over the shelf before eyeing the screws and finally the holes in the wall.

“You’ screws are stripped. Needs some new ones an’ maybe a few anchors.” He added as he eyed the weight of what you intended to store up there.

You worried your lip between your teeth for a moment before grabbing a key from the desk. “Maintenance room is this way, shall we see if they have what we need?”

He followed you down the hall and around the corner to a room that was no more than a glorified cupboard. You pulled the cord on the lightbulb dangling from the ceiling and he began rooting around, collecting tools in an empty toolbox before nodding to you to signal that he’d secured everything necessary.

“Don’t carry that with the arm I just took blood from please.” You reminded gently and he nodded again, walking back with you. “How can I help?” You tilted your head, nurse’s cap barely hanging on by the pins in your hair, presenting quite possibly the most adorable sight Eugene had ever seen.

“Could you an’ Miss Barbara hold tha shelf up fo’ me, please? Show me where ya’d like it?” He set the toolbox on the ground, grabbing the pencil he’d prepared as the pair of you positioned the shelf on the wall. He made a series of marks beneath it where he would drill new holes and marked the end placements. “Thank ya both, kindly.” He nodded and you set it down with a smile.

The sound of the door opening signalled the arrival of the doctor to do his midday rounds and you glanced at him, looking ready to apologize but he shook his head. “Don’ worry ‘bout me, you’ workin’. I’ll get this fixed an’ get outta you’ hair.”

“Thank you, Roe.” You nodded warmly before grabbing the clipboards from the desk and hurrying over with Barbara in tow.

Eugene did a thorough job of re-installing that shelf for you – putting new holes in the studs with the hand drill before tapping in a set of anchors to ensure it would never let you down again. It may have taken him a little longer than necessary due to the numerous glances he stole at you over his shoulder, but when his eyes met yours around the fifth glance, he turned back to his work quickly, cheeks burning, and did not risk another.

Once he was satisfied in the shelf’s structural stability, he began to place the manuals back onto it, hazarding a guess that you would want them in alphabetical order, glancing at you as you stashed the clipboards – now neatly back in their rack – beside them, rounds clearly complete.

“This looks amazing, Roe, I am once again in your debt.”

“It should hold alrigh’, even if ya get mo’e manuals.” He nodded humbly. “It was ma pleasu’e.”

“Well, I assure you we are extremely grateful.” You nodded firmly and he was unable to stop the slight smile that snuck onto his lips, watching as your own grew brightly in return. “Now I’m sure there’s somewhere you’d much rather spend your days off than our boring little hospital.”

He swallowed tightly, quite convinced that was utterly untrue but was unable to verbally disagree. “I’ll leave ya to it then, Ma’am.” He nodded, putting the tools away before shrugging into his uniform jacket once more and heading out into the drizzly afternoon.

It became a habit, spending his Saturdays at your hospital, fixing up little things that were broken but not priorities for the regular handyman. Donating blood every few weeks when you’d let him. It was, of course, all a thinly veiled excuse to see you – not that he would ever reveal that to you. As winter melted into spring, training and preparation for what was to come only intensified, and the potential outcomes remained at the forefront of his mind. If he were to speak honestly, Eugene, like many men, did not expect to survive the assault on France. Hitler had been there too long, had had too much time to get dug in snug as a tick. What they were planning to attempt was nearly impossible – just like his chances of survival.

You deserved better than that. Better than to open your heart to a man like him, if you even cared to, only to have him wiped from the earth by some piece of artillery or some such horrific ending. Eugene had a sense you’d seen enough horror first-hand in North Africa and he wanted no part in inflicting more upon you. So, he remained cordial, friendly, holding his breath and biting his tongue when your hands would brush, when you’d gently fix his tie after he’d gotten it crooked under the sink and when you’d swipe the sawdust from his shoulders before he put his uniform jacket back on.

The domesticity of your care and concern for him made his heart ache something fierce but he bore it stoically, silently, repeatedly like some kind of martyr. A smarter man might have stayed away but Eugene needed those few hours with you every week as badly as he needed the comforting nicotine of his Lucky Strikes. The news that they were shipping out to Upottery in late May was thus a rude reminder that his time, his life, was no longer his own.

The entire time he was packing, Eugene debated with himself before ultimately deciding to jot off a quick note of apology explaining his absence for that coming weekend and wishing you well until ‘next time.’ What a terrible expression it was. Forcing himself to take it to the post office, he sent it to the hospital where you worked before boarding the transit truck to move out. The days passed in almost a blur, the frenetic pace of preparation and practice jumps all leading up to the inevitable.

Eugene was dressed in full gear, having just secured his leg bag when he heard Vest call out his name, waving a letter addressed to him. Settling back down on the tarmac to open it, his brows furrowed in confusion at the unfamiliar handwriting.

Eugene was so taken aback he nearly missed Meehan’s announcement that the jump was off due to bad weather that night, spending several hours re-reading your letter, thinking about the things he wished to write to you in reply. Vowing to put them on paper if he ever saw the end of this thing. By the time he made it back to Aldbourne in July, he made a visit to the hospital where you had been stationed only to be informed by Barbara that you’d left for France with the 47th Field Hospital five days earlier.

He swallowed his bitter chuckle while Barbara kindly scrawled your post address now that you were deployed. “If you’d like to write to her.” She murmured timidly and he took it with a soft thanks before heading back to his billet.

It made perfect sense that you had been sent to France; nurses with field experience were hard to come by and you were obviously too talented to loiter in England. Thus, he had taken the time to reply to you, a proper letter this time, though still withholding his true feelings now that his eyes were well and truly opened to the rapidity with which a man’s fortunes could change.

Mail was slow, your replies taking a frustrating amount of time to reach him, and Eugene was certain you felt the same, especially as it became increasingly apparent that your paths through Europe were remarkably similar and yet did not cross again. Not until Easter Sunday of 1945.

2nd Battalion had left Belgium that morning, crossing the border into Germany in the grey light of dawn. It had been deeply unsettling to pass so close by their former positions in Bastogne, Foy, and Rachamps the day before. Memories, thick as winter fog, had put a damper on the mood of excitement amongst the men at being on the move again, a hush that persisted into the morning. It was a quiet that allowed them all to hear the frantic honking of a jeep horn, many of them, including Eugene, sitting higher in their transports to see a vehicle painted with the Geneva cross pull up beside that occupied by Winters, Nixon, Speirs and Welsh, bringing the entire convoy to a halt.

Craning his neck, Eugene strained to hear the conversation, but his attempts were futile as they were simply too far away. His brow furrowed as the rest of the batallion’s Lieutenants were called up by Speirs, a map was then unfurled on the hood of the jeep, intense conversation occurring amongst the huddled officers. Like some kind of silent movie without the title cards.

“What the hell do you think that’s all about?” Heffron griped beside him, and Eugene shook his head, completely at a loss.

It wasn’t until Lipton returned to the back of their transport, hauled up with the assistance of Luz’s friendly hand, that Eugene understood the gravity of the situation.

“Hospital convoy has gone missing, boys. Left Aachen over four hours ago and should have arrived in Juchen by now. There’s no trace of them.” He began putting on his gear, a silent signal for everyone to do the same.

“Nobody just vanishes in Germany, Lieutenant.” Heffron muttered grimly, securing his webbing.

“Major Winters’ thoughts exactly. We have eleven nurses and four ambulances unaccounted for somewhere between here and Juchen. So, we’re going to find ‘em.”

“What hospital, sir?” Eugene piped up as he secured his satchel around his body, the men glancing at him, reminding him that he rarely spoke.

“Uh, the 47th Field Hospital I think, Doc.” Lipton replied before getting the men off the truck to begin combing the roadside for clues.

The 47th Field Hospital. Your 47th. He stood rooted to the spot, blind to all that moved in front of him, sound muffled as he felt like the only thing he could be sure of – your safety – came crashing down around him.

“Hey Doc, you coming or what?” Heffron called up to him and Eugene blinked rapidly before hopping out of the back of the transport to follow quickly.

Eleven nurses missing. Field Hospitals had roughly eighteen nurses, if fully staffed, meaning there was more than a fifty-fifty chance you were among the missing. He shoved his balled fists into his pockets and began searching. Searching for what, he had no idea. The infuriating feeling of helplessness rose within him like the tide, relentless and uncontrollable.

It took a further three hours of driving, stopping, searching, until finally a farmer reported having heard machine gun fire earlier that morning near Titz. A yawning pit of dread opened deep within his stomach as all manner of possible scenarios played out in his mind. The three companies split up then, with Easy heading into the town of Titz while Dog continued on the road to Juchen and Fox turned towards Gevelsdorf.

He was not able to lay eyes upon you for another two hours, and to find you soaked in blood had sent him immediately into a frenzied state of triage, desperate to keep you alive after finding you at last. Calmed only by the proof that you were unhurt, at the reasonable explanation for the state of your clothes lying dead behind him, Eugene had never been more annoyed with Webster and Liebgott than when they had interrupted his chance to speak with you.

The rest of 2nd Battalion arrived, taking over the building for the night and securing the prisoners until MPs could arrive the next day to take them to a nearby prison camp. Winters had ensured a wing was reserved exclusively for the nurses, though you had assured him a guard would not be necessary. Eugene had offered himself and the other Battalion medics to help with the schedule you were drawing up to watch over the patients, but you politely refused, insisting he had done enough. Eugene certainly did not feel that way.

Finding himself unable to sleep that night, he slipped out of the room he shared with Spina, Heffron, and Ramirez, making his way down to the makeshift treatment space you had set up to see if he could be of any use. He stopped at top of the stairs as he nearly ran into you, making your way up to the nurses’ wing with your wet field jacket in your hands.

“Roe!” You breathed, startled, before smiling at him tiredly. “Can’t sleep?”

He shook his head. “Ya neithah?”

“Wanted to try and get this somewhat clean for tomorrow.” You murmured, gesturing to your jacket before glancing at him. “But no, not really.” You admitted softly.

He motioned with his head for you to follow him to sit on the ledge beneath a large bay window opposite the staircase. You draped your damp jacket over the back of a wooden chair that had seen better days, turning to look out over the landscape as raindrops began to patter against the glass. He slid a cigarette from the pack in his breast pocket, offering it you and only once you had declined with a shake of your head and kind smile, lit it for himself.

“Nine hours isn’t a long time considering the years I’ve spent away from home.” Your hushed voice, a continuation of your conversation from hours previous, broke through the sound of the rain hitting the windowpane.

Eugene exhaled slowly, smoke curling from his lips. “It only takes seconds ta die…”

You eyed him sharply in the dim light, shaking your head. “You of all people know how little control we have over that.”

Swallowing tightly, as you did have a point, he nodded. “Sorry Ma’am.”

You huffed a little. “Eugene, every time you call me Ma’am I feel like my mother.”

“But ya outrank me, even mo’e so now 1st Lieutenan’.” His nose crinkled in confusion.

You hummed noncommittally, an uneasy silence falling over the pair of you as Eugene finished his cigarette, stubbing it out against the windowsill behind him. Neither of you seemed certain of what to say or do next. Of what you were anymore – no longer just acquaintances, colleagues, or pen pals. Despite his best efforts, Eugene was terrifyingly convinced you were a great deal more.

“What’s something you wish you had done before you came over here?” Your voice broke through his thoughts, and he inhaled sharply before giving you his answer without hesitation.

“Shoulda asked ya ta dance tha’ nigh’.”

He heard your breath leave your lips with a shudder, watching you stand with the sinking feeling that he’d misjudged the entirety of your relationship. It was only when you turned back to him with your hand outstretched that he remembered how to breathe.

“Dance with me now, Eugene.”

His eyes widened, confusion surely evident on his face even as he set his worn and battered hand in yours. “But there’s no music.”

Your fingers closed around his, tugging him to his feet as you began to hum that Vera Lynn song, bringing a smile to his face as he set his other hand on your waist to begin dancing with you in earnest. Your fingers laced through his, a shiver running through him as you wrapped your arm around his shoulder before laying your head against his collarbone.

“Cold?” You whispered and he shook his head.

“It’s nice.” He replied as you started humming again, the repetitive nature of the song making him grin slightly. “Finally got ta dance in you’ comba’ boots.” He murmured, discreetly inhaling the scent of you.

You giggled softly against him, leaning back to look over his features in the low light. “Why didn’t you ask me to dance, Eugene?”

He swallowed roughly. “Ya looked tired, Ma’am. Didn’t want ta make ya suffah any mo’e.”

“Dancing with you is not a hardship.” You whispered, the pair of you still moving to the ghost of the song in the now silent hallway. “I would have said yes with one of those smiles you like.”

He laugh softly, squeezing your hand slightly. “I was worried, too. Worried I’d do somethin’ stupid like make ya care ‘bout me an’ then get myself killed. But then I thought I’d lost ya today…did lose ya fo’ nine hou’s…” His throat clenched with emotion, sealing off his ability to say anything further.

Your feet came to a stop as you eyed him intensely. “Eugene Roe, you have no control over that either.” You admonished gently. “I do care about you, whether you like it or not.”

The sound of his heart frantically pumping blood through his body filled his ears as he stared at you in wonder, awestruck by your fierce determination to bear affection for him despite the risks.

“M..may I…” He struggled to speak through the overwhelming adoration he felt for you, and you sighed fondly, leaning in to press your lips to his.

His grip tightened on your waist as his eyes fluttered shut, your soft mouth feeling like the finest silk brushing against his. He sighed dreamily as your fingers abandoned his shoulder to wend their way into his hair, drawing him tighter to you. He indulged in the impulse to slide his hand up your spine to rest between your shoulder blades, the feeling of your back arching in response headier than any liquor he’d ever tasted.

Your fingers gently unlaced from his, hand shifting to cup his jaw as you pulled back to press featherlight kisses across his brow and down his nose. “You didn’t lose me, Eugene.” You sighed against his skin, lips traveling across his left cheek. “I’m just fine.”

As you made your way along his jaw, he turned his head to kiss you fiercely, tongue darting past your startled lips to communicate all the things he could not seem to be able to say, holding your body so tightly against his as though he wished he could absorb you into his very being. You clung to him, matching the ferocity of his embrace with a reassuring tenderness of your own that had him melting against you, face burrowing against your neck.

“Thank ya, Ma’am.” He sighed with a bone deep weariness and felt your body shake against his as you laughed softly.

“Call me something better, Eugene.” You chided sweetly, kissing his temple. “Especially if you’re going to kiss me like that.”

He smirked before pressing his lips to the column of your throat, trailing kisses up towards your jaw, reveling in the way your breath hitched in your throat in response. “Alrigh’ cher.” He smiled warmly before kissing you gently.

“Cher.” You repeated softly once he released your lips.

“Cajun for darlin’.”

He watched your teeth sink into your lower lip, a grin stretching over your face as you looked to him through your lashes making the muscles of his abdomen clench.

“That will do quite nicely, Eugene.” You sighed before your fingers tightened in his hair, pulling him in to kiss him deeply.

You were both short of breath by the time you pulled back, hand caressing his face as your features contracted apologetically. “I should go before someone finds us.”

Eugene nodded begrudgingly as you were once again speaking the truth. “Goodnigh’, cher.” He said softly, loosening his hold on you.

“We’ll meet again, Eugene.” You smiled, eyes twinkling with mirth in the not-so-dark hallway as the light of pre-dawn began to seep through the tracks of rain cascading down the window, and his eyes widened as he realized that was the name of that damn song.

“You’d bettah not be covered in blood nex’ time, cher.” He admonished playfully, freshly addicted to the way your lips ticked up at the corners every time he said it.

“Likewise, Eugene.” You laughed and blew him a kiss before grabbing your surely still-damp field jacket, walking backwards as far as you could until you absolutely had to turn around.

He stood on the porch the next morning, hiding from the rain as he watched you load the nurses in your charge into newly arrived ambulances to complete your journey to the field hospital in Juchen. He barely looked up as he heard the scuff of jump boots on the worn brick beside him, Heffron leaning against the wall to light a cigarette, trying to soak in every last moment of your presence before you were inevitably parted once again. It was a great comfort to know you’d be just twenty-five kilometres behind him, perhaps a sign of kinder times ahead.

“So, you get your hands on some tits in Titz?” Heffron asked with a sly grin, making Eugene turn to him sharply.

“Heffron, watch you’ damn mouth.” He snapped at him brusquely, making the redhead’s eyes widen.

“Sheesh, Doc, she must be somethin’ special. Sorry.” He squawked and pointed at the road. “She’s looking this way.”

Eugene looked back quickly to see you, drenched by rain, waving at him with a bright smile he could still see despite your helmet, and he waved back, cheeks aching a little as his expression automatically mirrored yours.

“You’d bettah keep this to you’self, Heffron.” Eugene rounded on him with a serious look that he hoped was intimidating as soon as you pulled the backdoor of the vehicle shut behind you.

“Your secret is safe with me, lover boy.” Heffron winked, and Eugene did not believe him for a second.

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

Read the Sequel - Born To Be Yours

Band of Brothers Masterlist

Tag list: @bcon24 , @ronsparky, @fuckoffthanos

#eugene roe x reader #eugene roe imagines #eugene roe imagine #eugene roe #doc roe #band of brothers x reader #band of brothers imagines #band of brothers imagine #band of brothers

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sgtgrunt0331-3 · 4 months ago

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Pfc. Justin O’Neal, a team leader and Lance Cpl. Ignacio Aguinaga, a machine gunner with 2nd Battalion, 5th Marine Regiment, 1st Marine Division, fire a M2A1 .50-caliber machine gun during a littoral live fire exercise for Marine Aviation Support Activity 23 at Punta Baja, Palawan, Philippines, July 15, 2023.

(Photo by Lance Cpl. Juan Torres)

#usmc #us marines #infantry #grunts #machine gunner #50 cal #military #warrior wednesday

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c0ffee-stain · 5 months ago

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Whispers

Five Hargreeves x f!reader

Navigation • Previous Chapter: 1.08 • Chapter 9 - 1.09 • Next Chapter: Chapter 10 - 1.1

Death wish

"You both look good," The Handler observed. "all things considered."

"It's good to see you again." My stomach churned at his response.

The woman smiled, tilting her head up slightly as if reminiscing an old memory. "Feels like we met just yesterday. Of course you were both a little bit older then." A hostile smile began to stretch across her face. "Congratulations on the age regression. Very clever." Her eyes then averted to mine. "Threw us all of the scent."

Five used whatever strength he could summon not to scoff right then and there. "Ah well, I wish I could take credit. I just miscalculated the time dilation projections and..." His lips pressed into a tight lipped smile. "Well, you know. Here we are."

I shot a glare towards the boy. The more he spoke, the more he seemed to implicate his actions with mine.

Her crimson lips twitched upwards. "Yes," She spoke. "Here you both are."

"But you do realise your efforts are futile. So why don't you tell me what you really want."

What I was promised--

"I want you to put a stop to it." Five replied.

"You realise what you're asking for is next to impossible, even for me. What's meant to be is meant to be. That's our raison d'etre, our purpose."

Five reached into his holster and pointed a gun towards The Handler, standing comfortably with a hand in his pocket. "Yeah?" He hummed, his tense shoulders contrasting the carefree tone he boasted as if he were in control. "Well how about survival as a raison?"

"I'll just be replaced," The Handler shrugged. "I'm but a... small cog in a machine." She was clearly unimpressed that even Five had settled with the naïve conclusion that all his problems would be eradicated with her demise. A thought many before him had proceeded with in the past. A thought that I had attempted to act on too many times to count, only to be slapped back into reality and be forced to come to terms with the harsh truth.

I was lucky to have The Handler. Luckier than most who were slaving away back in the confines of the Commission with the false promise of escape.

The woman began approaching Five in measured steps, facing the barrel of the gun shamelessly. "This fantasy you've been nurturing about summoning up your family and kidnaping y/n to stop the apocalypse," She paused as Five gradually began to retract the gun, his fist trembling in anger and teeth dug deep into his tongue. "is just that. A fantasy."

She then turned to face me. "And I'm more than positive that you're tired of being held hostage by someone you despise." As Five began to open his mouth to respond, The Handler smoothly proceeded, "You're one of my most valuable assets- maybe even my most- so I'm willing to turn a blind eye and..." She paused, her blue eyes glinting in familiarity. "cut a deal with you."

"No--"

"Yes." I firmly stated, glaring at the boy beside me. "I would be more than happy to."

"What do you think you're doing--"

I snapped my neck towards him and scowled. "What I should've done from the beginning."

"Don't think we're leaving you out, Fivey. We want to offer you a new position back at the Commission." She lifted her hand towards him as if in surrender. "In management."

This caught my attention immediately, my lips parting slightly as I caught myself from protesting to her decisions.

Five sputtered in response, almost not finding his words. "Sorry," He scoffed. "what's that now?"

"Come back to work for us again. You know it's where you belong." The Handler was closer to Five now, his gun faltering ever so slightly.

"Well it didn't work out too well the last time."

"But you wouldn't be in the correctional division any longer. I'm talking about... the home office." She spoke. "You'd have the best health and pension, and an end to this ceaseless travel."

The platinum haired woman chuckled before any of us could object. "You're a distinguished professional in," She paused, dramatically inhaling a deep breath as her eyes roamed Five's figure. "school boy shorts. We have the technology to reverse the process for the both of you."

The boys shoulders slumped slightly, showcasing his eventual defeat to the Handlers flattering promises and honeyed words. Both which he knew would eventual morph into sweet nothings to trap him into her tapestry of lies. Each web sewn delicately with a careful equivocation to back up every false pretence ever spewed from those red stained lips.

"I mean, you can't be happy like this." She proceeded, her polished manicured hand clasping over the gun, gently pushing it down.

"I'm not looking for happy." He rasped.

The Handler left a trail of feather light touches along Five's cheek, her fingers just brushing his skin, as she said, "We're all looking for happy. We can make that happen."

"We can make you... yourself again."

He sighed, his eyes averting from place to place abruptly. "And what about my family?" Five countered.

"What about them?"

"I want them to survive."

I rolled my eyes, grumbling a curse in annoyance at how thick Five's skull presented itself to be time and time again. And it seemed the same thought was running through the Handlers mind as she glared blankly at the boy before looking away with a sigh, her gaze landing on the statue-like bodies of Luther, Diego and Klaus.

She puckered her lips. "All of them?"

"Yes," His eyes narrowed. "All of them."

The woman flexed her hands and reached for her sunglasses, placing them back on top of the bridge of her nose in a swift movement.

"I'll see what I can do."

There was no way in hell Five would fall for something like this so easily. The boy would be the next person after me to have witnessed the brutalness and severity of what the actions of the Commissions Handler can lead to. Especially if ones future relies soley on a deal based on a 'maybe'- an uncertainty.

She raised a hand, her lips turning into a smile.

“So, do we have a deal?”

The question lingered in the air for longer than it should have, the weight of each of the Handlers words staining the tense atmosphere like venom does to its prey.

Any wrong word or movement could result in two of, or all of us dead. And I was more than ready to make the former come true if necessary.

Five looked down to her hand, to her eyes, then twisted his neck to meet mine with brows furrowed from the constant weight of suspicion burdening him and his every thought.

"One thing." He turned away and took long strides towards Hazel and Cha Cha, placing his gun back into the holster attached to his hip, and reached down, de-assembling one of the duo's pistols and flinging it away. Hastily, he made his way back and reached towards the bullet hanging mid air aimed for Luther, repositioning its trajectory away from his brother.

Back in the situation he was in seconds ago, repeating his actions he looked down at the Handlers stretched hand, but quickly halted himself from making contact. "Actually scratch that." He licked his lips hastily. "One more thing."

This time he took a few steps towards me, his palm coming to grip my wrist in a vice-like grip and pulled me away from the woman's intruding presence.

"What is your problem?" I hissed, my face scrunched in a mixture of pain and frustration. Clenching my jaw, I did my best to hide the pain and focused on Fives gaze.

His darkened eyes bore into mine intensely as his forehead wrinkled and nose scrunched in disgust, lips pinched into a tight scowl. The pain in my wrist quickly subsided into a dull numbness as Five tightened his palm further, pulling me eerily closer.

"If find out that you've been planning this from the start," He began, lowering his voice to mask the tremor bound to shake through his words. "I will rip you apart limb from limb and watch you bleed out beneath me with a laugh on my face." I felt his spit fling onto my face, my jaw tightening further in distaste. "And this isn't some everyday threat, y/n," I raised a brow at the use of my first name. "This is personal."

"Got that?" His breath fanned against my face and his grip tightened momentarily before releasing my wrist all together and strolling back to the Handler as if nothing had happened at all, not giving me a single second to respond like the coward he was proving to be.

"Close your mouth dear." I heard the Handlers voice echo into my ears as I approached the two. "Wouldn't want to swallow any flies."

I swallowed my last bit if anger down to my gut and scoffed, not trusting myself to look at the boy beside me in fears I'd do something I'd come to regret.

At last, Five clasped his hand over the Handlers, a pleasant smile gracing her lips.

"Deal."

Date: REDACTED, 1955 Location: TEMPS COMMISSION HQ Time: REDACTED

It was strange to be back at the Commission so fast. Like a sudden whiplash, a sudden feeling that from here, things could only get worse no matter what I tried. I couldn't really explain it.

Especially now, as the Handler, Five and I walked through the Commissions front garden as if we had all the time in the world. And technically, we did. But everything I felt my gut wailing and screaming for me to understand only proved that time was the only thing I didn't have.

It was terrifying. But even fear couldn't replace the anger brewing within me. All because of some fucking man-child who decided to be selfish and save his family from their inevitable doom.

And the audacity this idiot had to threaten me as if I was the one endangering a whole timeline was beyond me.

A scoff left my lips as his threats rang in my mind. I shook my head in annoyance. I should be the one to rip his limbs apart. I should be the one to watch him bleed into the ground. I should be the one that comes out on top, laughing at his last dying efforts to merely take another breath. But most of all, I should be the one to be talking out a deal with the Handler.

As if on cue, the Handlers words rang through the air, along with the series of greetings from the Commission associates around us.

“I’ve never met anyone quite like you. Hazel and Cha Cha, for example, are talented certainly, but they can’t see the big picture.”

“And what, he can?” I grumbled, before hissing in pain. Five had thrown his heel back and kicked my shin. As I tried to respond with my own attack, the boy read my mind and swiftly moved to the side to dodge my foot.

Acting as if she hadn’t witnessed a thing, the Handler carried on with her flattery. “Your spunk, your enterprising spirit, it reminds me of myself if I may be so vainglorious.” She smiled, leading us in towards the buildings entrance.

"If things work out for you here, you could potentially make a fine successor, Five."

The moment we stepped foot inside the headquarters, the Handlers coat was swiftly taken by another worker as she led us through the familiar staircase. Once I opened my mouth to speak, the boy beside me quickly cut in front with a shove and a glare, and asked, "I'd like to discuss the logistics of my family's safety at your earliest convenience." Then added, "As well as this body replacement."

"Such chutzpah." The Handler sighed. "It's refreshing, I'll admit."

I rolled my eyes, the memories of my own 'chutzpah' flickering through my mind along with the punishments that came with it. "Don't claim to be brave if you can't handle a little pain." is what the Handler always used to say. The way the blue hues of her eyes glistened in grim satisfaction, and the way her voice reminded me of one I longed to forget would forever stick with me, haunting every reflection my eyes dared to meet.

The image of her unsettling grin, deep crimson lipstick smeared onto the unnatural white of her teeth. The metallic stench of blood that seemed to come and go with every snap of her fingers. The haze of smoke blocking whatever was left of my tear-stricken vision, and her warm breathing whispering bittersweet nothings into my ear- which were more bitter than I remembered. The memory was impossible to forget.

I mean, how could I forget such a core moment in my life?

How could I forget my first failure?

But that didn’t matter right now. As all I needed right this second, was to watch her inflict the same punishments onto Five. No matter how cruel that may be. I needed to see someone else go through the same... incidents as I did. I needed to know that I wasn't the only one who'd fell prey to the woman's actions. But from the way the Handler was treating Five, meeting his every demand with an agreement or a compromise, it seemed that I was unlucky enough to keep getting the short end of the stick.

I hadn't even realised my fists were clenched until a sting shot through my palm. My eyes averted down to my hand, crescent marks staring right back up at me with the same intensity.

"Now that you've finally agreed to work with us, we've got all the time in the world." Smug. Her voice was so fucking smug. I ran my hand over my face as if the action was going to release the tension in my jaw, my eyes- anywhere.

The woman led us through the Commission as a mini-reintroduction as if we hadn't been working there a few days ago.

"The Commission works in support of a delicate balance between the time line of events and mankind's free will." Leading us towards the briefcase storage room, she turned towards Five. "The briefcase is no longer part of your kit. Free your mind." She placed an arm around his shoulder, making sure to make eye contact with me as she uttered his name. "You're management now, Five."

She smirked at my expression. "One of us."

Before going up another flight of stairs, she paused and turned on her heels to face me properly, Five following her actions to meet my stare with his stern one.

"Since I'll be showing Five where he'll be working among the case managers, you're no longer needed." She said, looking me up and down. "Wait in my office so we can discuss the details concerning your return."

And with that, the two left without a second glance- well, I didn't miss the way the boy gave me a strange look before joining the Handler. He was clearly trying to communicate something but it'd take a lot more than an odd glance to crack through the resentment clouding my eyes and better judgement.

Maybe that's why I did what I did the moment I was no longer shadowed by their presence.

Was what I was about to do a good idea? No.

No, it was not.

But I was going to do it anyway.

Without a second thought, I rushed towards the direction of the Handlers office, receiving odd glances from analysts after practically witnessing some random teenager sprint through the hallways. I quickly entered, shutting the door behind me before I set my eyes on a painting opposite to where I stood.

The piece of art was breath taking. You could tell that every brush and stroke of the artists paintbrush was done so with delicacy and precision. Everything was perfect, from the swarms of dark red hues and smoky oranges, to the smallest spec of green that seemed insignificant when looking at the canvas up close. But when you take a step back to appreciate the big picture, you begin to appreciate the details that seem invisible to the naked eye.

You've always had a soft spot for art. Maybe that's why The Handler had chosen to place the very thing that could change the darkness of your fate into a bright one, within the hard work of another's.

You grabbed one of the knives strapped to your body and with a deep exhale, slashed vertically through the artwork you were admiring only a moment ago. The cut was swift and neat, revealing a small silver key dangling in the air with a piece of string through the key hole that was attached to the top of the canvas.

A dwindling smile began to tug at my lips as a familiar engraving of the letter 'J' caught my eye. I hurriedly snapped the rope and grabbed the key, holding it tightly in my palm as if it were going to disappear from my grasp if I loosened my grip.

As if the universe could read my mind, the door clicked open and locked shut, before a voice pierced through the air.

“It seems that the bloodhound has gnawed through her leash.” She spoke. “Again.”

I turned to face her. "One of the things you trained me in is debt collection." I replied, a tired grin on my face. "I'm just doing my job."

The Handler laughed, making my eyes narrow at the hollow sound leaving her lips. She reached for a pocket watch on her desk and snapped it open. "I'm sorry to inform you, dear, but the deadline's not up yet." It snapped shut.

"Now," The woman sighed as she gracefully sat on her chair, holding a pipe between her fingers and crossing her legs. "be a good girl and give me the key so we can get on with--."

"No."

Silence

The Handler cocked her head to the side and exhaled a puff of smoke. An exasperated burst of a chuckle escaped her lips and I watched the way she poked her tongue against the inside of her cheek. “I’m not sure I heard you right. What was it you said?”

“I thought I made it clear.” I sneered. “No.”

The next few moments were like watching a snake shed its skin and bare its fangs. The women in front of me was ridding herself of the many faces she wore over her true one, finally confronting me with those same cold, ruthless eyes that had began this never ending hell, and the same lips that uttered the command that allowed for such pain to be inflicted on me all those years ago. In a place I held as my safe haven, nonetheless.

Forcing my expression to remain neutral, I spoke. “It’s refreshing to finally speak to the real deal instead of those millions of personas you’ve harboured over the years. It gets exhausting.”

The women stood, her floral dress flowing with her every movement before she finally towered in front of me. She licked her thumb and began rubbing something off my cheek in a rough manner- in a painful manner. Slim fingers danced across my youthful skin and curled around my jaw, angling my head to look up at her. The pads of her fingers made sure to hold me tightly in place, a way for her to declare her never ending control over me. "Such a pretty face." She cooed, "Such a shame you're not the obedient little thing I raised you to be."

I attempted to pull away from her grasp, only for it to tighten. My lips twisted into a scowl. "I was trained to kill. What, did you expect me to turn out like one of those little ‘50s housewives? Ever-so ignorant and docile?”

She smiled.

"You want to see Jasper?" Her voice was hushed, making sure not to break the suffocating pressure of power, and my lack of, she knew I was drowning in despite the best I did to not display a hint of it on my face. But I could never get anything past the woman in front of me. Now was no exception.

I didn't dare to respond no matter badly I wanted to scream 'yes'.

But she could read the desperation in my eyes and answered for me with her following actions.

After finally releasing her grip and holding out her palm for the key tightly held in my palm, I gave in and placed the precious metal back into her possession.

I followed the woman through the door and down the main corridor. My body tensed at the amount of peering eyes averting towards us but I couldn't dwell on the feeling for long as a new anxiety began to rise within me. It was unnatural, something I've never felt before. Sure, I was anxious and practically filled to the brim with stress like never before, but I felt something else too- hope.

I was going to see the very person I swore to protect after three years of not seeing him and I was closer to ending this chapter of my life.

Ever since I was forced to work with Five, The Handler had prevented me from seeing Jasper, in fears of me "getting distracted" and "not paying Five enough attention."

Three years she had kept me away.

Three fucking years.

Finally, the clack of her heels came to an abrupt stop and a familiar ding of an elevator rang. The doors opened.

"You're the first person to come down here that isn't an executive." The Handler lifted a plastic case with a biometric thumbprint scanner and pressed onto a button that sent us plummeting through the Commissions deep underground. "Except from darling Jasper, of course."

The doors finally opened to a corridor that looked identical to the one above surface. I walked quick behind The Handlers heels until she spun to face me.

My heart was beating faster than I thought it would've. The anticipation and suspense felt like a side affect of a drug. One that could only be cured if The Handler would open the large metal door that stood ahead of me so I could finally see those amber eyes that I'd only been able to stare at in my dreams.

The woman laughed mockingly at my expression. "It'd be cruel to make you wait any longer."

The sound of a key twisting and metal screeching open made my heart leap up into my throat and crash down into my stomach.

That's when I saw him.

Thick black curls, tired honey brown eyes, and full lips that I'd sometimes catch myself staring at for a beat too long.

"Jasper."

Thank you all for the supportive comments- I'm not able to respond to comments on this account but please know that I am reading ALL OF THEM <33 I hope you all enjoyed this chapter! After a little under a year, I am finally back and I've got a lot planned for this fic so stay tuned...

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