#drive a army tank

[savage-kult-of-gorthaur]

THE FULL, ARMORED, MILITARY MIGHT OF THE GALACTIC REPUBLIC ON TEN MONSTER WHEELS.

PIC(S) INFO: Mega spotlight on Doodle art of the HAVw A6 Juggernaut, a.k.a., the Juggernaut, the clone turbo tank, or simply the turbo tank, a heavily armed and armored ten-wheeled tank used as military transports by the Grand Army of the Republic during the Clone Wars. Doodle art by @mizmaru_kawahara, c. January 2005.

Source: www.picuki.com/media/3539629761519876248, Amino Apps, Quota, various, etc...

[wondersimp]

He Tries

Unless it's for patrol, Jason Todd rarely leaves Crime Alley.

Most of your relationship together consists of home dates. Going out means a walk around the neighborhood, maybe a trip to the local Batburger if you're feeling adventurous. Anything beyond that is like pulling teeth with him.

He's not exactly a recluse, but his time after the Lazarus pit has made his paranoia reach the same levels as Bruce's and so he's rather stay within his home turf.

Despite the name, Crime Alley was his safe zone. It's where he grew up. He knows the people, the streets, has every nook and cranny there is to find memorized. Outside of the area? It's a minefield. Too many variables for him to account for.

He's already uncomfortable with how others view him. The fact that he's built like a tank alone makes him self-conscious, (We're not even getting into his autopsy scars.) Dealing with his family is stressful enough, so trying to interact with people he doesn't know or trust, and on top of unfamiliar territory? Fuck that, it's not worth the hassle. He'll stick to what he's familiar with, thank you very much.

Eventually, people in your social circle start to notice, and they have questions. Why is it so rare to see you two together at social gatherings? How come you always have to run errands on your own? When will they actually get to meet the guy?

His absence will be interpreted as his not caring, and they'll start to speculate the seemingly low-effort he puts into your relationship. Shouldn't he make more of an effort, plan for more elaborate dates? Maybe he's not as invested in the relationship. They might even hint that he's not worth the time, and it's time to cut your losses. Maybe find someone more dedicated and serious about pursuing a future together.

You promptly tell those people to go and fuck off.

Look, this man has been through hell and back. He's died and come back to life with a serious case of trauma as a souvenir. Before you, he never intended to step foot into civilian life again.

But for you? Oh God does he try.

You can tell when you catch him one morning psyching himself up to pick you up from a group hangout. You can tell in the way he finally agrees to try that cafe by your work and never lets go of your hand. His knuckles will be white from how hard he’s gripping the counter, but the one around your hand could not be more gentle. You can tell when he works up the courage to introduce you to Alfred, despite still having trouble with anything connected to his life in the Wayne family.

You definitely know when one day you find yourself required to attend a Wayne Gala for your job. Surrounded by Gotham's highest elites has you feeling out of place and absolutely terrified of making the slightest misstep, so you call your boyfriend for a pep talk. The second he clocks in on your anxiety, the man's on his way and arriving in minutes, a suit and tie haphazardly thrown on (fitting him WAY too well) and his hair wild from the drive up on his bike as he’s scanning the room for you.

This was the man that would rather take a crowbar to the knee then spend a night among Gotham's socialites. Not even Mr. Pennyworth himself could get him to go. Yet here he is with an arm around your waist as you navigate around the crowded ballroom. He'll be stiff as a board the entire time and speak only a handful of words in total to the other guests, but he never stops the slow circles he makes on your side with his thumb.

You know Jason has his personal demons, and things that were no big deal for others was an incredible struggle for him. You also knew that there was nothing he wouldn't fight through if it was for you. Whether it be an army or himself, he'd always continue to try.

For a life with you, he'd learn to live again.

And that was more then you could ever ask for.

A/n: Was it good? Was it bad? Heck if I know, but gotta show my love for Mr. Jason Todd somehow :P

[astraljedi]

He is in love (Joaquin Torres Imagine)

Request: I love angst as much as the next person but I need a Joaquin Torres domestic imagine where he's so in love with reader and they have a healthy relationship

Pairing: Joaquin Torres x Female reader

Warnings: Male provider trope, mention of alcohol. This is mostly fluff, just a loving boyfriend who loves spoiling his girlfriend.

Word Count: 3.33K

Song: You Are In Love by Taylor Swift

A/N: Ugh, I love me some sweet requests like this one! Let me know what you guys think 🫶🏻 -

And he keeps the picture of you in his office downtown And you understand now why they lost their minds and fought the wars

“Breakfast was delicious.” I smile as Joaquin presses a kiss to my cheek. I grab the plate from his hands and place it in the sink with the other dishes I’m currently washing.

“What’s the plan for today?” he asks, nuzzling his face into my neck and leaving soft, wet kisses on my skin. His arms wrap around my waist, holding me close, not wanting to let go even as I move to load the dishwasher.

“First, I have a pilates class at eight, then I need to stop by the supermarket for some groceries.” I turn to face him once I’m done putting away the dishes, looping my arms around his neck.

“Skip the supermarket—we can go together tomorrow after work.”

“Yes sir.” I smile, stepping up on my tiptoes to press a kiss to his lips.

“Today’s your brunch date with the girls?” Joaquin pulls out his wallet from his back pocket and hands me his silver credit card.

“Baby, you don’t have to.”

“Don’t start with me, baby.” He pulls me back into his chest. “I want you to indulge and have fun with the girls. Don’t let them split the check.”

“You spoil me so much.”

“And I love spoiling you.” He kisses the back of my hand with a horrible posh accent. “Tell Simone I hope she had a great time on her honeymoon, but I’m stealing her husband next football Sunday.”

“We already know it.” I roll my eyes playfully. You really can’t come between those two and their Sunday football traditions.

Joaquin throws on his army jacket and heads toward the front door. “By the way, I filled your tank yesterday after I finished washing your car.” He grabs his keys from the small bowl by the door like he always does.

“Thank you! I totally forgot I was supposed to get gas on Friday before coming home.”

“You don’t have to thank me, baby. I like taking care of you.” He gives me a look, reaching for my hand reassuringly. “What’s the point of being your man if I’m not making your life easier?”

I tug on the ends of my red jacket, already zipped halfway over my matching sports bra. “I don’t know what I did before I met you.”

We walk out the driveway and to his car still holding hands, the morning air still crisp. 

My tiny red shorts don’t do much for warmth—but they do something to Joaquin. He keeps sneaking glances at me from the corner of his eye.

“You’re so bad at being subtle.” I giggle, my cheeks blushing. I can’t even blame him—I’m just as bad. I can’t help staring at him either. He wears the same uniform every day and it still drives me absolutely insane. There’s just something about seeing him in his army getup every morning and evening. It never gets old.

He opens the driver’s side door but doesn’t get in yet. Instead, he turns to me, pulling me in by the waist. “I can’t help it. I gotta get my fill of you for the day to survive my long work hours.”

“Don’t be dramatic.” I look up at him, laughing softly, right before one of his hands slips from my waist to grip my ass.

“Baby, the neighbors,” I warn, trying to hide my smile.

His lips brush mine, and I think it’s going to be a sweet, quick goodbye kiss—until it’s not. Suddenly I’m on my toes, hands in his hair, his mouth moving against mine like we’re teenagers making out in the driveway after curfew. His fingers slip just under the hem of my jacket, warm and gentle on my lower back, and for a second I consider dragging him back inside and making him even more late to work.

When we finally pull away, I’m breathless. He tucks a rogue piece of hair behind my ear and grins, boyish and smug.

“Let me know when you leave to meet up with the girls.”

“I will.” I steal one last kiss before he hops into his car. “I love you.”

“Love you too, baby.” He shoots me a wink before backing out of the driveway. I’m smiling like a complete idiot.

When I turn around to walk back into the house, my eyes meet our grumpy old lady neighbor across the street. Mrs. Riley is standing on her porch, arms crossed, already shaking her head in disapproval at our early morning makeout session.

“Good morning, Mrs. Riley,” I call out sweetly, trying not to laugh as she mutters something under her breath. I walk back inside and shut the door behind me, still grinning, trying to calm my racing heart.

By the time my pilates class wraps up, I already have my outfit picked out in my head for brunch with the girls. Mia—my very pregnant best friend—and I went to the mall last Friday, and I found the perfect dress for our monthly get-together.

I shower quickly to wash off the post-pilates sweaty and sticky feeling off my skin. Once I’m clean and dry, I slip into the buttery yellow sundress and tie the dainty straps into delicate little bows on top of my shoulders. The corseted midi dress fits like a glove and pairs perfectly with my favorite platform sandals. It’s perfect for our late brunch reservation and I can’t wait to wear it more next spring.

I grab my phone and walk out of the walk-in closet, heading over to the big mirror tucked into the corner of our master bedroom. I angle my body just a little, sliding one leg forward to show a peek of skin through the slit in the dress. I snap a quick picture and send it to Joaquin.

Leaving soon, love you 💋

His response comes almost instantly—except it’s not a text. It’s a FaceTime call.

The moment his face pops up on my screen and he gets a good look at me, he lets out a low whistle while I show off my outfit with a spin.

“Te ves hermosa, como siempre,” he murmurs into the phone, clearly hiding somewhere in his shared office.

“Aren’t you supposed to be working, Lieutenant?”

“Yeah, but you decided to send me a picture of you in that dress. You’re killing me, baby,” he says, leaning back dramatically in his chair.

“I think you’ll survive, handsome.” I giggle, grabbing my purse from the bed and adjusting the strap over my shoulder.

“I can’t even begin to say the things running through my head right now.” He groans, running a hand down his face. “But if I want to buy you hundreds of dresses like that, I have to keep working. Have fun, sweetheart.”

“I will! And try not to stare at the picture all day. You actually have to get back to work.”

I hear voices in the background, someone entering the room, and Joaquin glances over his shoulder.

“Now I really have to go,” he sighs. “Call me if you need anything.”

I blow him a kiss through the screen before ending the call, my mood lighter than before.

The girls and I usually have brunch at our favorite spot downtown called Oliver. For a Monday, the front patio is surprisingly full, but I head straight inside and make my way toward the back patio where we always sit—our usual reserved table waiting for us.

Oliver has seen us through every season of our lives. When Tiana passed the bar exam. Mia’s first baby shower, three years ago. The day after Simone got engaged to Marcus, two years ago. So many memories tied to this place. And today, for our monthly catch-up, we’re celebrating Simone’s return from her month-long honeymoon in Europe.

“You’re late,” Mia points out, classic Virgo, she never changes.

“I’m sorry,” I say, pulling out a chair and slipping into it. “I had to stop by the florist to pay the deposit for your baby shower.”

“Girl, is that the dress you bought last Friday?” Tiana whistles, raising her champagne glass to me. I laugh and nod—of course she remembers. I sent them a minute-long video haul in the group chat the second I got home.

“Lucky for us Joaquin’s at work,” she teases. “He wouldn’t let you leave the house for days if he saw you in that dress.”

“I sent him a pic and he didn’t even hesitate to FaceTime me like two seconds later.” I grin as the waiter sets a mimosa down in front of me. “Thanks,” I tell him, then take a quick sip.

“Ugh, you guys are so gross.” Mia rolls her eyes playfully and takes a sip of her orange juice.

“Let her live, Mia,” Simone jumps in. “We had to deal with you and Andrew first and none of us complained.”

Tiana and I laugh with Simone as Mia shrugs, pretending like she has no idea what we’re talking about.

“I don’t know what you guys are talking about,” she says, all innocent.

“Oh, Andrew baby, I miss you already,” I say in my best impression of Mia, dramatically grabbing Tiana’s hands across the table.

“Mia, I can’t wait to kiss every freckle on your beautiful face,” Tiana adds, joining in with her own over-the-top impersonation of Mia and Andrew’s honeymoon phase (which, honestly, never ended).

“Oh shut it, people are staring.” Mia throws a piece of bread at us, laughing.

“How’s my baby shower coming along?” she asks, switching topics before we get even more dramatic.

“The flowers and décor are ordered. I’m just waiting on the quote from the company renting the chairs and tables, but mostly everything’s on schedule.” I rattle it off like a checklist, gasping a little once I reach the end. I finish my mimosa and glance at the menu, even though I already know what I’m going to order. I get the same thing every time.

“Andrew and I finished the guest list. Remind me to send it to you later,” Mia says, reaching for her orange juice.

“How do you feel after a month-long honeymoon?” I ask Simone, who’s sitting across from me.

“It was amazing! We went to that restaurant you and Joaquin recommended in Rome—it was so good, we actually went again before leaving for Spain.”

“It’s so good, and the owners are the sweetest,” I add, smiling.

The rest of brunch flows the way it always does with laughter echoing around our table, plates filled with delicious food, and us reminiscing about college and diving into girl talk. Eventually, the waiter sets the bill down, and before anyone can argue, I grab it and slide Joaquin’s card into the little black folder.

“What?” I ask, noticing the three of them smirking at me.

“Oh, nothing,” Simone says, the first to speak. “Just make sure to thank Joaquin for brunch.”

“She didn’t even look at the total,” Tiana points out with a laugh.

“Why would she?” Mia chuckles. “Her man loves spoiling her.”

“As he should,” they all say in unison, like it’s rehearsed. I try to laugh it off, but I can already feel the warmth creeping into my cheeks.

“Our girl is in love,” Tiana sings, just a little too happy from the mimosas.

“You’re the last one of us who hasn’t gotten engaged yet,” Simone says. “What’s he waiting for?”

“We’ve talked about it,” I say, brushing a loose strand of hair behind my ear. “But we just want to enjoy the house for a while. Maybe down the line, ring shopping could be on the table.”

Everyone’s always asking when we’re getting married, when we’re having a baby—but honestly, the stress of closing on the house was enough. Joaquin and I just want to enjoy what we’ve built for a little while before the next big thing.

“It’s been more than a year since you guys moved in,” Mia says, more to herself than to anyone.

“Yeah, but it hasn’t been a year since Joaquin fully recovered from his injuries from that assignment,” I begin, my tone softening. “My fear is that he could get shipped out at any time and I need the security of knowing he’s coming home. I don’t think I can go through what happened last time again.”

The lump in my throat is familiar. So is the weight pressing on my chest.

“Honey,” Simone says gently. She and Mia reach out to grab my hands, and Tiana wraps an arm around my shoulder.

“Have you talked to him about this?” Simone asks.

I nod. “He knows he can’t promise me that kind of security. And I don’t want to be the reason he stops doing what he’s been dreaming of for years. He was so excited when he got that ridiculous suit,” I say, smiling through the ache.

“We’re here for you,” Mia adds softly.

“Thank you, guys.” I exhale, offering a small smile. Even though they can’t fully understand what it’s like, just having them by my side means everything.

After brunch, I need to turn off the racing thoughts and anxiety. I send a quick text to Joaquin:

Just got home and the girls say thank you for brunch today. I’m feeling a little off so I’m going to disconnect for a while. Please let me know when you’re on your way home. Love you.

I change into a soft loungewear set—my favorite one—and head toward the sunroom. Even though Joaquin and I share a spacious office down the hall, something about the warm, golden light in this room helps me breathe easier. It’s become my little sanctuary for working, thinking, or just calming down when I feel overwhelmed.

I pull up the guest list Mia sent me on my laptop and dive into the never-ending to-do list for her baby shower. Before I know it, hours slip by. The sun’s dropped lower in the sky, filling the room with orange and pink hues as golden hour settles in. The soft light makes the space glow, and the record player blasts Taylor Swift’s How You Get The Girl at full volume—definitely not Mrs. Riley-approved. 

“Remind her how it used to be, yeahhh…” I sing along, completely off-key, dancing in place as my half-up hair swishes around my shoulders in soft waves. 

I don’t see Joaquin leaning against the doorway in his army uniform, cap tucked under one arm, while he leans on the doorframe. He doesn’t say a word. Admiring the sight in front of him.

I don’t even realize he’s there.

He stays that way for a while, just watching me in my little bubble—shoulders relaxed, focused, lost in creating something for someone I love. He always says how much he loves watching me work.

"The way your eyes shimmer, how you jump with excitement when something turns out just right—or even better. The way you pour your heart into everything you do… it’s something I’ll never stop falling for," he once said, back when I was planning Mia’s first baby shower. His words stuck with me—still do.

Then the next song starts.

You Are In Love.

“You can see it with the lights out, lights out… You are in love, true love…” I hum along, this time quieter, softer.

“And for once, you let go… of your fears and your ghosts…”

He exhales, quietly, still not wanting to interrupt. But he can’t help it. Not when I’m standing there in my soft two-piece set, glowing in the warm light, surrounded by music in my favorite place in the whole house.

He clears his throat, just loud enough for me to hear.

I jump, my hand flying to my chest. “Joaquin!”

He laughs softly, stepping into the room. “Didn’t mean to scare you, baby.”

“What time is it?” I ask, still a little breathless. “Aren’t you home early?”

“I am,” he says. “I got worried after I read your text. I wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

He steps closer, the record still spinning behind me, humming through the speakers. He extends a hand and I take it, letting him gently pull me up from the floor. Without saying anything else, he wraps his arms around me, guiding my hand to his shoulder, his other hand finding the small of my back. He clasps my free hand in his, and I rest my head against his chest as we begin to sway, slow and easy.

And so it goes… You two are dancing in a snow globe, ’round' and ’round…

The song wraps around us, fading into the background as all I can hear is the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. I close my eyes, letting it ground me as we move gently in the same spot just the two of us.

“You’re exactly what I needed,” I say softly, looking up just as the next track begins to play. We stop swaying, but we don’t let go. We stay right there, in each other’s arms.

“Want to talk about it?” he asks, pressing a kiss to the top of my head.

“Maybe later,” I whisper. “I want to stay like this.”

He leans down and kisses me—long, deep, and slow. 

Then he whispers, “Over dinner? I brought dinner.”

I smile, my chest aching in that familiar way. “Sometimes I feel like you’re a dream and I don’t want to wake up. I don’t want to get up and realize it was too good to be true.”

He pulls me even closer. “I’m not going anywhere.”

A few weeks later

The backyard is filled with the laughter of kids running wild, family and friends catching up, and a very pregnant Mia sitting at a table, eating and looking completely over it. She’s glowing, but definitely tired of being pregnant. Meanwhile, Andrew is chasing after their three-year-old, Lily, who giggles every time she dodges his outstretched arms like it’s the best game in the world.

I sneak inside to grab more of the appetizers everyone’s loving. As I make my way into the kitchen, I glance out the window, watching the scene outside. My heart feels full. The kind of full that makes you pause and take it in, because it’s not always like this. But right now, it’s perfect.

“Finally, a moment alone with the woman I love,” Joaquin says, wrapping his arms around me from behind. I smile instantly, resting my hands over his and leaning into his warmth.

“You okay?” he murmurs against my ear.

“Just recharging,” I answer, closing my eyes for a second. The sounds of kids’ laughter floating in from the yard melt away the last bits of stress I didn’t even realize I was still holding onto.

“Mia looks so done at this point with pregnancy,” Joaquin says, and we both laugh quietly.

“She does,” I nod. “But I know she loved everything. She cries every time she notices a new detail.”

“I don’t doubt it,” he chuckles.

I turn in his arms to face him, resting my forehead against his chest, my safe place. “Don’t tell her this, but I’m glad it’s almost over,” I laugh, low and tired. “I’m so tired.”

He kisses the top of my head, then rests his chin there, hugging me tighter. “After everyone leaves, you sit back and relax. Marcus and I are in charge of cleaning duty.”

Then, in a soft voice, he adds, “When we get married and fill this house with kids… I hope it feels exactly like this.”

It takes me a second to register what he just said. My breath catches, and I lift my head to look at him. My eyes search his, and I can already feel them welling up. The thought of him chasing after a mini version of us in this same backyard—it’s dizzying.

A little overwhelming and exciting at the same time.

It feels right. 

He catches the look on my face, his eyes soft as he takes it all in too. 

“I hope so too,” I whisper.

[heroesrest64]

crack and suggestive(?) request but BUT!!!! succubus/incubus reader who got thrown out of hell and up into the human realm bc they srsly have no game and is actually. a loser, even with the help of their uncontrolled tempting scent (or anything succubi and incubi alike have that would naturally have ppl drawn to them regardless of their appearances) to the point they weren't even considered by their kind as their own so now as some way to get themself back down in hell again, reader found themself a group of heroes (aka the chain) and finally decided to (stubbornly) accompany them on their journey despite almost getting mistaken by the chain at first as part of dark link's army (you can decide what's the reasoning on why reader accompanied the chain whether they wanted to prove themselves worthy of being a succubus/incubus and have their ass back down in hell or js wanting to tag along bc they absolutely do NOT know the human realm rlly well)

this is an idea of mine so seeing as requests are alloweddd, it would be rlly interesting to see a scenario of their first meeting w/ reader and ANDD some shenanigans that would occur once the chain finally got used to succubus/incubus reader and even considered them one of their ownn!!

BUT PLS DON'T FEEL PRESSURED TO WRITE THIS IF YOU DON'T WANT TO😭😭😭 THANK YOU NONETHELESS WHETHER YOU DO MY REQUEST OR NOT!!

(Honestly as soon as I read this my mind was flooded with ideas on what to write, I wouldn’t mind making some more parts for it lol)

Warnings: slight NSFW minors dni

So. You got kicked out of hell.

You didn’t even think that was a possibility, but here you are, sitting on the side of a dusty street with nothing but the very minimal clothes on your back and the mission to corrupt and devour at least eight souls before returning to the eternity of damnation you call Home.

All in all, things are not looking very good for you. See, you’re a succubus. Y’know, a seduction demon. But you’ve got no game. Absolutely none. You’ve never seduced a person in your life, even people with absolutely zero standards. You thought you’d just be able to coast by for the most part- you weren’t consumed with a thirst for power and domination like most of your kin- Asmodeus’ idea of a joke, you’re sure, but not a fun one as you’re practically a regular human with some stronger than average pheremones and a high sex drive that does nothing for the crippling awkwardness you experience whenever you’re in the presence of someone even moderately attractive.

“They could’ve at least let me bring a change of clothes, damn.” You sigh, running a clawed hand through your hair as you glance down at your cropped tank and short shorts. Loungewear, you think, is not going to cut it in whatever realm they threw you into.

“A traveler! They seem lost.” A young voice draws your attention, and you cut a look towards where it came from. A group of nine travellers, a kid and eight extremely good-looking men. As subtly as you can, you shake your fist at the ground, internally cursing Asmodeus for what must be another one of his jokes.

Maybe you can just walk past them, all casual-like. Afterwards, you can find a town or something and get a room, maybe look for a job scrubbing dishes. That’d be nice. Heck, it might be even better than the setup you had down in hell.

“Hey, I think their eyes just turned red. Kinda like the Shadow-” One of the men mutters, and you feel a bead of sweat appear on your brow. That doesn’t sound good.

“Now that you mention it, they do kind of look monstrous.” Another one points out, setting a finger under his chin consideringly. Wow. Rude. Not ‘Cute’ not ‘Sexy’, hell, not even ‘normal’. ‘Monstrous’.

“Should we… Fight them? I mean, they’re kinda just standing there not doing anything. It would feel wrong to, y’know, go in swords drawn, but they’re very obviously a monster.” A different one pipes up. You scowl in his general direction, offended. These guys are really just talking about you to your face, and what’s worse, they’re now threatening violence on your person.

“Maybe we should take them hostage. They look intelligent, so the Shadow might value them.” The one wearing a too-big scarf suggests, and the rest mumble their agreements.

You always pictured yourself getting tied up by a good looking man, but not like this. No, not like this.

“They’re surprisingly well behaved. What’s your purpose?” One of them asks- a man with unruly blonde hair tied at his neck and a blue tunic covering his torso.

“Oh so you ask me something like that now, after you’ve tied me up?” You ask, rolling your eyes in exasperation. The man has the decency to flush in embarrassment, and you snicker at his blushing cheeks. Your voice does tend to have that effect on mortals. Too bad you’re usually too nervous to utilize that particular skill, although right now you’re too pissed to stumble over your words.

“Don’t mind them, Wild. They’re trying to throw you off.” Scarf guy scoffs, glaring down at you, and you stick your tongue out at him.

“To answer your question, I was sent here to seduce eight people. I was just gonna take my time with it, but since you guys already have me tied up like this, I suppose we could skip dinner and get right to the show,” You snicker, but quickly choke back the sound when the rope tied around your body is tugged forward.

“It looks like the Shadow is running out of viable tactics if it’s resorting to terrible attempts at seduction like this. That pick-up line sucked.” One of the men in a red tunic with a streak of pink dyeing his bangs rolls his eyes, and you notice he’s the one with the rope holding you in place. He looks like a bit of a pushover, but you suppose if the others trusted him with the rope, he’s probably strong and smart enough to keep you captive.

“You wish it was a pick-up line. Too bad for you I’m not interested in shorties.” You laugh, some sort of classic villain sound that struggles to hide the lie that came out of your mouth prior to the laughter. You’re actually really into short men, and the blonde hair is really doing it for you. It truly isn’t fair how good looking all of these men are.

Once your laughter dies down and you’re left in the quiet that followed the grating sound, you clear your throat once, then twice, then decide to continue to talk so the embarrassment won’t eat you alive.

“Anyway, as this is my first time being kidnapped, I feel like I should ask you guys your names.” You hum, rocking back on the balls of your feet. The men pause, as if they weren���t expecting such a question, and slowly mutter out their titles before asking for yours. It’s an awkward exchange, and soon after, the men seem to decide to start walking.

You spend most of the walk squabbling with the man holding your rope who you now know as Legend. Even when he changes shifts with Twilight, you continue to shout insults and barely disguised flirts at the man all the way until Time calls out for everyone to stop and make camp. Surprisingly, you’re released for your bonds at this time, and instead find your feet tied together to prevent an easy escape and are made to sit beside Sky who’s working on a wood carving beside you.

“I don’t get it. Why are you guys treating me… kind of normal, even though you think I’m some sort of villain?” You ask, digging a stick in the dirt in front of you lazily.

“Well, you haven’t done anything wrong yet, it wouldn’t make sense for us to hurt you- innocent until proven guilty, I guess.” Sky shrugs, brushing away some wood shavings. You hum a long note, striking a line through your drawing.

“Dinner’s ready! Does fried rice and baked salmon work for you?” Wild calls out, trouncing over with his arms filled with plates. Sky happily takes his, but you hesitate. You can eat normal food, sure, but it doesn’t do anything for you, and you wouldn't want to waste these people’s rations even if they did abduct you.

“No thank you, I’m not hungry.” You duck your head, gnawing on your bottom lip as Wild lets out a concerned sound before moving on.

“You should really eat. I know this situation is upsetting, but you’ll just hurt yourself this way.” Sky whispers once Wild has moved out of earshot. You stab the ground with your stick with a bit more force than necessary.

“What does it matter to you? I’m a monster aren’t I? Maybe the only thing I can consume is mortal flesh and blood.” You roll your eyes, lazily lolling your head to look at the man. He seems to observe you for a second, eyes scanning your face before tracking to your freshly bitten lips. You immediately recognize the look on his face and blush, turning your head back towards the ground.

“Do you actually want flesh and blood, or is it something else you need?” Sky asks, quietly observing as you dig your fingers into your arms. His words… sound an awful lot like a proposition. Like he’s trying to see if he can offer you what you need.

You haven’t feasted in a long time…

Surely just a nibble won’t hurt.

Notes:

Sky is absolutely gone after that first interaction. This might be a good thing because his version of infatuation is a love so sweet it could make even a demon think they’re an angel. What’s more, he would romance them as normally as any other Hylian. Flowers, carvings, cuddles and other such romantic gestures. Succubus reader might think they tricked him into becoming infatuated at first, but he’s obviously not pursuing them with sex in mind. He’s legitimately trying to court them, get to know them, and only gets truly aroused when they initiate (other times, he just can’t help himself lol)

Four is the one you usually share a bedroll with, seeing as he’s small enough you can fit beside him without it being too cramped. This became a problem when he realized just how good you smell, and how good your curves feel pressed against him. All of that mixed with how little you wear at any given time, and let’s just say the man is done for.

When Wild realizes your sustenance is literally arousal and that you feed on souls instead of actual food, he’s surprised, but willing to try and find a way to feed you. One day you tease him before he starts cooking, and he’s left pent up the whole time. Once everything is served, you mention how the food smells good and actually eat some. Wild is not proud to admit he came in his pants at the moan you let out upon your first bite of food.

Twilight was usually the one to tie you up during those first few days together, and he will never ever admit what seeing you in his ropes does to him. The sight of the rope burn on your wrists and around your ankles does something to him, and you seem to know it as you constantly praise the rope work and occasionally ask if he’d be interested in shibari. He’s a little disappointed when it’s decided you aren’t actually a villain and you’re allowed out of the ropes, but sometimes you offer to let him tie you up for old times sake.

Time has seen a great many things in his time, but an awkward succubus was not something he was ever expecting. Unfortunately, your awkwardness is charming, and watching you slowly come out of your shell around the others is endearing. You’re not monstrous or demonic in anything other than appearance, and Time has watched you carefully etch protective runes into everyone you touch. He supposes it was only a matter of time until he fell for your charms, too.

As someone who is part Fae, Hyrule expected to be completely opposed to your very existence, and yet time and time again he finds himself drawn to you like a fly to honey. It might have to do with your scent, or how your kisses are filled with tempting nectar that keeps him coming back for more. He counts himself lucky you aren’t like the rest of your brethren down in hell, because he’s sure you would’ve claimed his soul in mere seconds otherwise.

Warriors was honestly scared of you at first. You remind him a lot of Cia, with the lack of clothes and snarky remarks. Once you calm down and start stuttering through interactions, though, he feels endeared. You’re practically harmless, and the runes you write on him and everyone else are protective. They don’t wrap around his arm like a shackle, but rather lay across his skin like a lazy cat. With your care, he slowly starts to work through his trauma, and in return, Warriors helps you become more comfortable speaking to others and helps you communicate with the rest of the chain.

Legend is so freaking jealous it’s actually hilarious. Honestly just those first couple interactions were enough to get him having a little crush on you, but afterwards, seeing you flirt around with the others, initiating intimacy with each of them as casually as if you were sitting down for dinner, it makes his blood boil. At first he thought it was because he felt like you were taking advantage of his sword brothers, but one day he just snaps, pins you against a tree, and preforms the sloppiest make out session you could probably conceive before stomping away in a huff. This pattern continues until you sit him down and ask him if he likes you, at which point he realizes oh no I totally like them and is embarrassed

[yourstrulyrani]

hii um actually ive never done this before and im kinda nervous but yeah.

uh so i know most drabbles/fanfics (esp with x reader) talk about simon riley being like "unworthy" of love or something and while i feel like that is true about his character it just gets repetitive sometimes so why not one where he just realizes that this is just what he needed, it's what was missing. not that he was unworthy or something, he just never pursued it.

okay!! thank you :3

a/n: omg hii please don’t be nervous!! you’re all good, i opened my requests up for a reason so please feel free! im guessing you read my last work & i honestly feel the same way. it does get repetitive but it is pretty fun to write/read about. i adore the angst. i love your idea and i feel simon (like anyone else) would love to his fullest once he realizes he's a little too single LMAO. i hope this is what you were looking for 🥲👍🏼

simon riley x medic!f!reader wc: 1460 .. part two

Ghost was drowning in missions. At the end of his deployment, he was exhausted. He walked onto base, eyes heavy with the need to sleep and muscles aching with the need of a hot shower to soothe them. He dropped his bag by the door of his dorm but was welcomed with the reminder to go to the medbay for a routine evaluation. He only had a few cuts and scratches so he was close to simply ditching, but a few minutes with the medic wouldn't hurt.

Ghost walked to the medical wing on base, his legs heavy to the point he stomped with each step. He entered the medical center, seeing you in the dim light writing the inventory of some medical supplies on a clipboard. He knocked on the door to make his present known, which he knew worked when you turned around.

"Oh. Hi, LT. Good..." You trailed off to look at the clock on the wall which had its minute hand a little past midnight, "morning?" You both were surprised that both of you were on base this late, but sometimes duty calls for it. As the team's medic, you sometimes use the late nights for medical reports. Ghost uses his late nights for mission reports and to sleep over on base when he's too tired to drive back home. Simon takes notice of your eyes, the light casting shadows just right to show how your eyelids slightly droop, most definitely from a lack of sleep.

Ghost sits on one of the vacant beds. "You're up late, Doc." Simon now internally cringes at the fact he's here so late. "I can leave. I just came over because of the—"

"Evaluations after every deployment. Yeah. No worries. You can stay, this won't take long." You take the current paper off the clipboard, walking over to your desk to replace it with a form to put in Ghost's file later. You have been here for some time, but Ghost's presence makes you shake in your own boots sometimes. You can't help it: A 6'4 man who's built like a tank who operates like one too? You once saw him at the fitness center bench pressing well over your weight, and you were wondering if you should clench your thighs closer together or be scared of the man. You decided on both.

You walk over to where Ghost is seated and analyze his physical appearance. With his mask still on and an army-green short-sleeved t-shirt and jeans on, you look for any injuries you can. Your eyes trail along his tattooed right arm, adorned with skulls, flames, and other drawings. His other arm is bare, instead marked with fresh scratches and cuts, most likely from the missions he was on during his recent deployment.

A few minutes pass and you continue with your checkup while writing on the clipboard. You found a gash on his upper bicep which you're now tending to, albeit with some struggle due to Simon's stubborn nature:

"Lift up your sleeve, please."

"But it's just a gash, doc."

"A gash that, forbid, gets bacteria in it and gets infected. Then I'll be the one amputating that same arm. It's called necrotizing fasciitis."

"Why would they invent something like a bloody fascist infection?"

You giggle while cleaning up his wound at the encounter a few minutes ago, unaware that it may seem weird that you're laughing out of the blue. Ghost notices, "What's so funny?" You can see his eyes squint under the balaclava, the only piece of facial expression you'll ever have from him.

"You called a medical term fascist, sir."

He grunted. "Sounded like it." You noticed how his accent elongated the word "like" and you thought it was hot.

Gosh, get a grip.

You grab the dressing, Simon on cue lifting up his arm to give you better access, his bicep bulging. You wrap it around his gash following the bandage, finally patching him up for tonight. Ghost tests it out. He holds his shoulder with the opposite hand and moves his arm in a circle. He can feel the compression of the dressing and bandage around his gash, already knowing you did a good job as always. He nods in approval, "Thanks, Doc."

You smile warmly, and Simon felt his own heart skipping a beat at it. You were tired he could tell, even more now probably from taking care of him but your smile was still radiant. He saw your eyes squinting as you smiled, a tell-tale sign that your smile was genuine. He watches you take off your gloves and scoot back on the rolling stool to stand up, “Feel free to call me or come back to the clinic if you notice anything wrong with the bandage, like if it gets wet or a strong odor. I need you to heal, okay?” The concern in your voice makes Simon melt. He knows you're a doctor, a damn phenomenal one at that and it’s in your nature to care for people, but he wonders what it would be like for someone to care for him like this exclusively just because. Ghost nods compliantly, “Will do.” Ghost stands up and walks out with a soft “Goodnight.”

Simon drove home that night, deciding that he needed the comfort of his home since his dorm was too small. His next deployment wasn’t until a few weeks, so he had plenty of time to spare in England for now. Simon placed the keys into the door and walked inside. Like always, he was welcome with a minimally decorated home. He never saw the point in decorating a house with a person who wouldn’t see it a majority of the time, but he couldn’t help but think when he walked in: The house needs something.

Too tired for a shower and afraid to get his wound wet now, he plops upstairs on his bed. For the first time in his life, Simon’s bed felt...empty. He couldn’t help but think when he laid his head on the pillow: This bed needs something.

His mind failed to rest when he woke up in the afternoon. The sheets fell to his waist when he sat up and his hair was sticking out in all sorts of directions. When he went to the shower to clean himself off from his long deployment finally, he couldn’t help but think: This bathroom feels so empty. All that was on his sink was a holder for his single toothbrush and a single tube of toothpaste, along with a single hairbrush and some soap. Everything in his house came solo.

He walked out of the en-suite bathroom and noticed how singular his bedroom was. The single bedside table, the single pillow, the single blanket, the closet with clothes only for him. Heading downstairs with singularity in his head, he observed his kitchen. The tea kettle stood alone, the utensils were enough only for him, and so was the food in the fridge. Simon never thought his house was this empty until now and he almost feels guilty...embarrassed. Having a home should mean having a space to make yours, to decorate it with photos and to make it lived-in. But what is there to decorate and make lively when there is no one to do it with?

The thought continues to linger on as the days go by, getting stronger with the time.

The garden needs flowers.

I should buy some houseplants.

I should buy a throw blanket.

A few more mugs wouldn't hurt.

Like a usual Brit, he enjoys a cup of tea in the afternoon. Simon then realizes, with his single cup of tea in hand, that this house does not need something, but he himself is in need of someone. He has never felt like there was a void to be filled in life, but he feels obligated to do it now. Countless years of living a solitary life, and now all he yearns for is someone to cherish.

Simon is in need of you.

If you were here, he would have two bedside tables, a lot of pillows, and a closet with clothes enough for the both of you. He’d have more than a pair of shoes in the shoe rack. A house lived-in and a heart devoted.

Most importantly, he would have you.

Simon remembers what you said: “Feel free to call me or come back to the clinic...like if it gets wet..."

Simon took no time in hesitating to go to the bathroom sink and wet the bandage up. He didn't care if he could get a fascist infection or whatever it was called, as long as he got another chance to see your pretty face again.

(i feel like this needs a part two but idk)

~ yours truly, rani ♥︎

[titanomancy]

If anything, that roadmap Krieg tease undersold how much the Death Korps would be getting in the new year. Between the existing tanks and Veteran Guardsmen, this is at least as much of an army as any of the old pewter regiments had in the '90s. Arguably more.

Starting from the top, Lord Marshal Dreir is a great alternative to the Lord Solar for the role of, "general on horse mount," and stands in his stead among any of the classic regimental heroes.

And if your gonna have one guy on a horse mount, you really ought to have an entire cavalry charge. I think they might have gone a little ham on the Krieg steeds' claws, though - I liked them better a more like goat hooves, so that they look nearly like horses be not quite. Somebody at the studio clearly decided that's insufficiently brutal.

Combat engineers are another adaptation of an existing Forge World kit that looks great. Loving the little screw drive remote mine, although it looks like it's about twice as big as it ought to be to read better on the tabletop.

Artillery emplacements are big Krieg energy and these new heavy guns certainly deliver. The quad mortar is back again, as are two flavors of cannon and a rocket battery. Wouldn't look at all out of place alongside the classic Basilisk platforms (which, who knows, may still make their way to plastic), or the next entry in the new lineup.

Classic heavy weapon carriages, once again in the 2nd Edition style. These are all a little bit more in tune with the nostalgic approach to Imperial Guard than the more modern take on the concept found in the Cadian Field Ordnance Battery, and I think helps them to fill a unique niche from the standard heavy weapons teams.

Rounding things out are a brand new command squad featuring not one but two Commissars (Lord and cadet), vox, standard and chemyst. I think adapting the quartermaster would have probably been a better pull but they seem to be leaning hard into the harsh environment specialists aspect. That combat accountancy servo skull goes hard, though.

Overall, solid. Very happy to see, and when taken alongside the many Solar Auxilia tanks now or soon to be available, represents one of the most comprehensive updates to a range yet seen.

[justinspoliticalcorner]

Nikki McCann Ramírez, Naomi LaChance, Asawin Suebsaeng, Andrew Perez, and Stephen Rodrick at Rolling Stone:

WASHINGTON — On Saturday, President Donald Trump held a hideously expensive military parade in Washington, D.C., on his birthday. Trump and his top officials stood on a stage at the National Mall behind two tanks, before two large digital American flags. Military bands and troops, some on horses, some in vehicles, some in tanks, others in Howitzers, marched in the streets. So did a few robot dogs. An army parachute team jumped down. Helicopters flew over. Drones flew by. There were many, many tanks. The spectacle was billed as honoring the U.S. Army’s 250th birthday — and planners put in admirable effort to sell this fiction, with processions designed to honor key times in American military history. In reality, the event was just one part of the Trump administration’s vast, billion-dollar government effort to make the leader feel good about himself. 

The weekend’s pageantry, which some administration officials referred to as “Donald Trump’s birthday parade” behind closed doors, fulfilled the president’s longtime desire for a grand military parade. Starting at the Pentagon in Virginia, the troops in the parade — who honored the Revolutionary War, the Civil War, World War II, the Korean War, the Vietnam War, and the Global War on Terror — had to walk for about two-and-a-half miles.  Trump sat next to his wife Melania and the former Fox News host, Defense Secretary Pete Hegseth. At points, Trump stood alone in front onstage, such as when he saluted troops marching as the 1st Cavalry Division. At another point, Secretary of State Marco Rubio was pictured yawning on C-SPAN. The military officials shown on C-SPAN spoke with reverence about the War on Terror.  Late in the event, Trump stood at a podium onstage and swore in 250 new or reenlisting troops. “Welcome to the United States Army and have a great life,” Trump said after they recited the Oath of Enlistment. “Thank you very much. Have a great life.”  After two hours, the event reached its logical conclusion: political speeches. J.D. Vance briefly went first. “June 14 is of course the birthday of the Army,” Vance said. “It is, of course, the birthday of the president of the United States. And Happy Birthday, Mr. President.” He delivered the laugh line of the night. “It’s also my wedding anniversary,” he said before immediately leaving the stage.

[...] Even before the speech component, the C-SPAN feed gave off a vibe that alternated between military recruitment video and softcore Trump propaganda. Video played several times of Trump giving speeches. Occasionally, a small banner popped up that said: “Video courtesy of America 250.” The nonprofit America 250, which is helping organize the ongoing publicly-funded campaign celebrating the country’s semiquincentennial, has been taken over by Trump allies and one of his campaign operatives. [...] The military parade was overseen by the American commander-in-chief as he conducts a militarized crackdown on immigrants in Los Angeles, California, driving protests. He sent in National Guard troops and Marines not because their presence is necessary to keep the peace, but as a show of force — and as a test run for operations in other states and cities, should the president feel angry enough to launch them, likely illegally. At 2,000 locations across the country, protesters held a “No Kings” Day to voice their anger toward the president. About 20,000 people gathered in downtown Los Angeles, undeterred by law enforcement’s use of non-lethal weapons on earlier protests and the president’s escalation by sending in troops.  [...] For an event that shut down much of central Washington D.C., closed key roads, and reportedly cost up to $45 million, the promise of a display of America’s military might — that just coincidentally happened to fall on Trump’s birthday — didn’t exactly draw out legions of his fans. Instead, the crowd of supporters, servicemembers, curious locals, and military-adjacent spectators who braved the oppressive heat and humidity of a post-thunderstorm D.C. managed to just fill out their allotted side of the street over several blocks in front of the White House, with plenty of room to spare. 

Donald Trump got an unhappy birthday present yesterday: his dictatorial wet dream of a military parade that costed taxpayers bunch of money had far fewer people in attendance than anticipated that got way outdwarfed by No Kings protests across the nation.

[bones4thecats]

Miko's Army! Sister; TFP! Bulkhead's S/O

Character: Bulkhead (Transformers Prime) Inspired By: The most random thoughts A/N: This may be a part two, don't know, y'all can vote after reading! ⚠️ Trigger Warnings for: Nothing ⚠️

╔══════════════════════════════════════════╗

╚═════ Bulkhead ══════════════════════════════╝

💥 You were Miko's older sister, being 9 years older than the 15-year-old. She admired everything you did growing up. You were a very strong woman, participating in multiple strength-related sports as you aged, ranging from wrestling to volleyball

💥 When you turned 18, you moved into America and gained citizenship before joining their military, becoming one of their best members quickly. Once you returned from missions overseas, you got the news that your sister, Miko, had been getting ready to be an exchange student from your parents

💥 It definitely shook your life around, as you hadn't seen her since she was 9 and you were a new-adult. Miko was ecstatic to move in with her older sister once again, knowing you would be such an amazing caretaker for the meanwhile

💥 As the time passed, Miko gained a strong love for American pop-culture. She dyed part of her hair pink and grew into a thrill-seeking young teenager with a strong sense of bravery and loyalty, which she gained from your influence

💥 One morning, she had woke up after falling asleep on the couch in front of the TV with you reading a book in your chair. She was not wanting to go to school, but she knew that you wanted her to go and she couldn't make you angry, your anger scared everyone

💥 She lightly walked out into the living room, finding you there with your canine, Koro, sitting down with his vest wrapped around his body

"What are ya' doing?" She asked.

"Getting ready for work. I have a shift starting at 9:00, so you might wanna get ready 'cause you're getting dropped off early."

"Ugh..." She groaned as she walked away to get dressed and fix her hair.

"Don't worry, Miko. I should be off sooner rather than later tonight, my boss said that I could leave to get you and get back when you're home."

💥 Miko, after some bribery from you, got dressed and pulled her hair up into the two buns and single ponytail in the back. You smiled and handed her a lunchbox filled with her favorite foods before grabbing your own along with your keys, turning on your 2009 Ford F-150, and vesting up your dog before leaving

💥 As you drove Miko to school, you got a call. Picking it up, you answered formally to your boss before asking him what he needed you to do the rest of the day

"Well, Agent Nakadai, we are in need of your presence today. A plan is needing some finalization. Are you clear to come in?"

"Yes, sir. I'm about two minutes away from my sister's school, I'll drop her off and head over immediately."

"Alright. I shall see you soon, Agent."

"You as well, sir."

💥 Hanging up your phone, Miko asked who called, to which you said your boss before laying your phone in the cup holder and turned on some Slash Monkey, knowing it was Miko's favorite band to listen too

💥 She sang along to the music while playing an air guitar as you laughed and kept driving, only slowing down once entering the school-area. Miko looked at you and smiled, pulling her tank-top strap back up and slinging her bag over her shouldr before jumping out, saying her goodbyes, before running off to screw around like normal

💥 You smiled and drove off towards your work, hoping that this wouldn't cause anything to keep you for too long. You needed to hang around your sister more, work just- could get difficult...

»–•–«

💥 It did not go as planned.

💥 Once you saw the lock hit when Miko would get out, you groaned, grabbing your phone and calling your sister. She answered and you just said that she needed to tell you where she would be in around 2 to 3 hours, and she just said she'd be walking around Jasper

💥 You told her that you'd call when you got out and that when you did, she would need to go to K.O. Burger and wait for you there. She agreed and said she was gonna go have some fun now

"Okay, just-"

"Be careful, yeah, I know."

"Love you, Miko."

"You too, big sis!"

»–•–«

💥 Nodding as you spoke to your boss again, you heard both Arcee and Bumblebee returning from grabbing the two male humans that found them in the action against two Vehicons the day prior

"Are the two of them back?"

"Yes they are. I better go see the boys and make sure they don't pass out."

"That you should. Have a good rest of your day, Agent."

"You as well, Fowler."

💥 Closing the phone and stuffing it in your pocket, you turned around and began walking towards the main room where the others were. You were ready to meet the boys, but were not ready to meet the third human they got

"I'm Raf." You heard.

"I'm Miko! Who're you?"

"Bulkhead..."

"Are you a car? I bet you're a truck. A monster truck! Do you like heavy metal? How much do you weight? Ever use a wrecking-ball for a punching bag?"

💥 You quickened your walk to a run as you heard the ramblings. You prayed to every God of every religion that that was not the Miko you were related too

💥 WHY WERE YOU WRONG ALL THE TIME?!

"Miko Nakadai! What are you doing here?!"

💥 The female froze as everyone turned to look at you in confusion. Did you know the young girl?

"Hey! Funny seeing you here!"

"I told you to- why can't you listen for five minutes?" You mumbled as you ran down the stairs to your younger sister.

"Uhm, Y/N?" Bulkhead asked, causing you to turn around to look up at the green-mech.

"...Yes?"

"How do you know her?"

"Oh, don't tell me she's your sister." Ratchet said, a groan ready to come out.

"Well... yeah."

💥 The Autobots looked at you with shock, you guys looked similar, yet different. Her hair has a thick, pink stripe while yours had nothing. She had a very flamboyant fashion sense, while yours was far more dark and solid-appearing. Miko also had an outgoing personality while you were cold and calculating with your words

💥 Bulkhead looked at you and back at Miko nervously, wondering what his next words should be

"Why didn't you tell me about this sooner?!" Miko asked excitedly.

"It was classified." You glared at Bumblebee and Arcee, making them slightly shift, before continuing. "And none of your business."

"Y/N, if I may ask, how old is Miko?"

"I'm 15! Y/N's-"

"24. We're aware."

"I didn't know how old she was." Arcee said, making Bulkhead slightly tense and look away, his face-plate slightly tinted blue.

"Are you like my sister's boyfriend or something? She does rave about someone nicknamed 'Bulky'."

"MIKO! Enough!" You yelled, grabbing her arm and pulling her away to look at you, only to be interrupted by Optimus walking inside to speak to the humans.

"Y/N, I believe it is in all of our best interests to assist these... children, in gaining some consolation in what is happening in this base."

"Understood, Prime."

💥 Bulkhead saw you slightly back away, so he bent his hand down for you to jump on, which you did. He picked you fully up to perch on his shoulder and listen as Optimus spoke to your sister and the two other males

💥 You looked at Miko and sighed... this was going to be a more difficult time caring for her than you thought...

[sonyaheaneyauthor]

Trump seems to be finally realising that Putin thinks he’s an idiot

Let’s hope that The Donald is as mad as hell, and will put the boot in where it will hurt Putin the most.

By Charles Moore.

With the peace negotiations poised to re-start, Russia launched a massive drone and missile strike against Ukraine this weekend. This capped a week that has seen continuous attacks against civilian targets. The Kremlin insists, of course, that Russia is attacking military targets, but even the most cynical Russian supporters would choke on the idea that every hospital and school in Ukraine is full of tanks and missiles. Even President Trump seems to have eventually concluded that Putin is taking him for a fool, after his vitriolic outburst on Sunday against the Russian leader.

On Sunday the US president ranted that he “does not like” what Putin is doing, and called him “absolutely crazy”. To add fuel to the fire, Kremlin spokesman Dmitry Peskov suggested in response that Trump was suffering from “emotional overload”, and Russian newspapers are leading with the story that the US government is sanctioning Europe with high tariffs but not Russia.

The Russian papers may be full of anti-Ukraine and European rhetoric, but they are also full of the perilous state of the Russian economy. Everything except tank production is in free-fall downwards – and tank production is still nowhere near enough to match the grievous losses of the war. If Saudi and US threats to drive oil prices below $50 a barrel are realised, the Russian war machine is likely to grind to a halt by this year’s end.

Worryingly, there is also widespread assertion in the Russian media that “legally” the Soviet Union still exists, and the Special Military Operation in Ukraine is an internal matter. According to this logic that would also be the case if Russia invaded the Baltic States and Poland – as those countries expect, which is why they are building up their forces as fast as possible.

But, finally, President Trump seems to have realised that the Russians think he is an idiot. They are now openly goading him and the penny has finally dropped. The US president has belatedly realised that the “bad guys” are in Moscow and not in Kyiv and other European capitals. The big mistake Moscow has now made was to neglect Trump’s vanity. This is an error that Vladimir Putin may live to regret. Trump, in his anger at the obvious Russian disrespect, may now push the sanctions button and deprive Moscow of the vital oil revenue which allows it to sustain its massive army and creaking economy.

Frankly, I hope – and most outside the Kremlin are probably hoping with me – that Donald Trump is now as mad as hell, and will put the boot into Russia where it hurts the most. That’s the best chance of ending the war, rather than trying to negotiate with Putin.

https://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/2025/05/26/trump-crazy-putin-ukraine-strike-war-idiot/

[argumate]

Israeli soldiers have been deliberately firing at unarmed Palestinians near aid distribution sites in Gaza, army whistleblowers have said.

First-hand accounts reported in the Israeli newspaper Haaretz allege that commanders had in recent weeks ordered troops to shoot at crowds “to drive them away or disperse them, even though it was clear they posed no threat”.

Soldiers used “heavy machineguns, grenade launchers [and] mortars” to suppress hungry Gazans queuing for food at new distribution points set up by a controversial private firm, it is claimed.

It is also alleged that some soldiers took orders from a brigadier general who had previously stated that there were “no innocents in Gaza”.

One soldier told Haaretz: “It’s a killing field. Where I was stationed, between one and five people were killed every day.

“They’re treated like a hostile force – no crowd-control measures, no tear gas – just live fire with everything imaginable: heavy machineguns, grenade launchers, mortars. Then, once the centre opens, the shooting stops, and they know they can approach. Our form of communication is gunfire.”

...

An IDF officer told Haaretz that the military’s security perimeters around distribution points included tanks, snipers and mortars, and they were designed to protect those present and ensure aid distribution could take place.

“At night, we open fire to signal to the population that this is a combat zone, and they mustn’t come near,” the officer said.

“Once, the mortars stopped firing, and we saw people starting to approach. So we resumed fire to make it clear they weren’t allowed to. In the end, one of the shells landed on a group of people.”

In other cases, he said, “We fired machine guns from tanks and threw grenades. There was one incident where a group of civilians was hit while advancing under the cover of fog. It wasn’t intentional, but these things happen.”

According to the officers and soldiers who spoke to Haaretz, the IDF fires at people who arrive before opening hours to prevent them from approaching, or again after the centres close, to disperse them.

not great work my dudes

[kirbymongerr]

"Oh, the mech? Yeah, hell of a thing. Hard to believe I ended up in the pilot program. I had some nasty pains after all the surgery, Phantom pains sure but still, y'know. What's it like? It's a machine. I operate it. Like yeah, I'm wired into the damn thing but that's just for rapid processing and micro-adjustments, the controls are still largely analog. What's the AI like? Can hardly call the system one, the government just wanted to intimidate other armies by saying we have some fancy AI, it just pings me about system wear, fuel and ammo. My... handler? You mean my CO? Or the mechanics? No, no I don't get conditioned, I get orders and I follow them to the best of my ability within the situation.

... alright, listen. I can see what you're angling for here, so lemme make something clear. I pilot a big, expensive weapon that specifically excels against targets that cannot fight it on even ground. My job is to go mercilessly blow up people the government wants blown up that cannot hope to fight back against a mech. If I got off to anything in my job, I'd be incredibly fucked up as a person. I don't get hard when I drive my walking tank, you weirdo. This is why they kicked you out of the pilot program, ya perv."

[blair3writ3s]

And I Can’t Help Myself | Kyle Scheible

Kyle Scheible x F!reader, smut

You and Kyle end up stuck in the same hotel room after a concert, and he tries his best to stay as far away from you as possible. Spoiler, he ends up knuckles deep inside you.

Warnings: confused to lovers. The CLASSIC one bed trope. Cussing, inexperienced reader. Reader calls people “babe” platonically. Kyle speaks French because Timothée does and it’s the hottest thing ever so!! The French is in italics :}

OOC but I don’t care

MDNI

Your extremely rusty, ancient car rumbled down the highway. The steering wheel trembled slightly beneath your hands. Honda Civics, seating exactly five, had almost enough room to fit the band. Almost. You had to make Kyle sit in the trunk.

Luckily, your car was a hatchback, and police officers didn’t have much interest in pulling over a rag-tag car full of high schoolers; blasting Seven Nation Army.

Olive, sitting next to you, shouted the lyrics of the song. Her blonde hair was all mused up from the wind, but it still looked marvelous.

Tony, Miles, and Jake, in the backseat, sang along. Their yelling was completed with air guitar motions and air drumming. With the windows rolled down, it was a madhouse.

Between the loudness of your band; and hair flying everywhere, it was almost enough to take your mind off the show tonight.

Almost.

The car rumbled along, nearing the shabby hotel Olive had booked for us. It was the closest hotel to our venue, and the cheapest too.

Turning down the radio and rolling up the windows, you shouted, your voice laced with excitement, “Guys! We’re almost here. Get your stuff together.”

Olive grinned, exclaiming, “Between your horrible driving and Ky in the back,” Kyle held up his middle finger from the trunk, face blank.

“I thought for sure at least one of us wouldn’t make it.” She laughed, her laughter a bird-like chirping. You swatted at her leather-clad arm playfully, scoffing at her antics.

Glancing in your mirrors, pulling into the parking spot, you locked eyes with Kyle. He had his book in one hand, bass on his lap. Nausea was plastered on his face, likely from the boat-like qualities of the car.

You snickered under your breath.

-

Kyle, face pale and hands sweaty, slammed the trunk shut with a finality that mirrored the nausea etched on his face. Eyeliner was smudged around his eyes, and his eyebrows furrowed into a frown, a sight that would have sent shivers down the spine of any other girl back at home.

Unfortunately, you weren’t too different from them.

“Remind me,” Kyle grumbled, “To never let you drive anywhere ever again.” He said to you, a sarcastic lilt in his voice.

You turned around to face him, slamming your door shut. “Remind me,” I mocked, “Which one of us has an actual drivers license?” You walked over to him, picking your guitar up off the ground, along with your backpack full of essentials.

He cocked an eyebrow at you, shifting his weight from one foot to the next.

You turned towards the back windshield of the car, hip bumping the side of his upper thigh. Combing your hands through your layered hair, and adjusting your tank top, you made eye contact with him in the mirror.

“At least I can drive, babe.” You commented, ignoring the prickle of fondness that ran down your spine.

“Sure, chérie,” Kyle said, lowering his voice to match the slight grin playing on his lips.

He promptly turned away, ruffling your hair before he walked towards the hotel, following your band mates inside. Your eyes, despite your best judgement, followed his figure. He was stupidly hot, a kind of hotness that a guy like him shouldn’t get to have.

Not that you would ever, not in a million years, tell him that.

-

“ONE ROOM?? I BOOKED THREE!” Olive screeched, an angry redness was creeping up her neck. She glared at the receptionist, “How do you expect 6 people to cram into one room!?”

The receptionist looked blankly at her, glancing at the lot of us. “I don’t know. But I can assure you that your file only has one room under it.” She clicked her tongue “you’ll have to make do.”

Olive clenched her jaw, eye twitching. “LISTEN HERE YOU-“ She raised her voice further, leaning inwards towards the older woman.

“Oli, babe,” You interjected swiftly, grabbing her arm. “Why don’t you go.. take a walk?” Olive’s jaw clenched, shoulders tense as she stomped out of the hotel. She slammed the glass door shut so hard you thought it would shatter. Luckily, it did not.

Pushing through your band mates to the front desk, you smiled in a friendly manner to the clerk. She did not not return your smile.

“Is there any way to book an additional 2 rooms now? We can pay.” You said, putting on your costumer service voice, that you use at your management job.

“Nope.” She said, voice as monotone as ever. “I’m afraid we only have one other free room, and it only has one double bed.” She flicked her eyes back across the group of us, “As opposed to the two separate beds your other room has.” She finished, glancing down to the computer, clicking away.

“We’ll take it! Anything’s better than one room.” Miles quickly interjected, glancing at you pleadingly.

“It’ll cost $100 for one nights stay, and because you’re just getting it now…$50 extra.” The clerk stated, glancing back up at you.

You turned towards Jake, the manager of the band. He swept his dark hair to the side, swiftly giving you the cash for the room.

You passed the money to the woman, and quickly guided the band up to the rooms.

-

“Ok, boys…and Olive,” You said, putting your hands on your maxi-skirt-clad hips. “Oli and I are going to take the room with the single bed, and you guys are going to have to figure out the other room.” You tossed Tony the keys, turning towards the room directly across the hall.

“Really?” Kyle challenged, grabbing your arm before you entered your room. “What are we, children? Why do all four of us have to get packed into that room,” he said, gesturing the boys standing around him, as well as the door to their room “while you and Olive get plenty of space?” He stated, walking towards the other end of the hallway, and towards the other room.

“I vote we split three for three. It’s much more fair.” Kyle declared, crossing his arms. “What do you think, little Miss Guitarist? ” he really knew how to push your buttons, even when you were both feuding over something as fickle as rooming arrangements.

“I dunno, Mister Bassist, maybe I don’t want to share a room with your annoying ass!” You whisper-shouted, pulling Oli inside of the room and slamming the door behind you.

Kyle, from outside your door, yelled “Va te faire foutre, putain de con!”, banged on your door once, then gave up, going into his designated room.

-

“And I thought I had a flare for the dramatic,” Olive teased, setting her outfit for the night out on the bed. “You and Kyle are on a completely different planet. Especially with him yelling his French” She chirped, laughing at the situation.

“I can’t believe I actually won that fight,” You said lightheartedly. “I thought for sure he was going to kick down the door.” I rolled my eyes, turning towards her.

“I know, right? I mean, he still hasn’t given up with the whole dating thing..” Olive said, nudging you playfully.

“Yeah, yeah.” You sighed, setting your bag on the bed. “He’s a player. I’d rather die than give in to that nightmare” You joked, turning back towards her.

Olive sighed, grabbing your hand softly. “I really don’t think he wants to hurt you-“

You swiftly interrupted her “-I’m going to take a quick shower before I start getting ready, ok, babe? I want to look perfect for tonight.”

“Sure,” she sighed, flashing you the classic; ‘I-don’t-agree-but-I’ll-go-along-with-it’, best friend look.

-

Your clothes clung to you uncomfortably, the grime of the day begging to be washed away. Quickly stripping, you set out a towel for yourself and a hair mask. You took your time in the shower, scrubbing, exfoliating, shaving, moisturizing. You were determined to be ready for tonight, who knew how it would go.

The time flew so quick, it surprised you to hear a rhythmic knock on the door, disrupting your trance.

“What’s up?” You called, scrubbing the last of the hair mask out of your hair.

“I’m going to head over to the other room to practice with the boys,” Olive called through the door. “I want to go over vocals one more time with Miles. And I think Tony wants to assemble some of his drum equipment,”

“Ok! I’ll see you in 30.” You called back, excitement flowing through your veins for the approaching show.

You finished the shower, drying off and blow drying your hair. Tonight, you decided, you were going to go all out. Full glam, you suppose.

The room door clicked open, implying Olive’s departure. You heard some mumbling, but it wasn’t outside the ordinary to hear Olive talking to herself. The door promptly clicked shut.

Thinking nothing of it, you finished your makeup and hair, leaving the bathroom in only your bra and underwear from the day to find your outfit for the night.

The bathroom door clicked shut, and you whirled around, startled to find Kyle; sitting on your bed. A small laugh escaped your lips as you saw his flustered expression. His cheeks were flushed a deep crimson, and his hazel eyes stared into yours blankly.

He mumbled “Putain de chaud”, eyes darting away from yours. The bass that he had previously been strumming was left limp in his lap.

“What gibberish are you grumbling now?” You complained, Turing your back on him. Quickly slipping on a stray sweatshirt Olive had left out, you covered your torso and upper thighs from view. “What are you doing in here anyway?” You inquired crudely, digging through your bag for your clothes.

“Merde, I was just looking for my bass, and found it in here near your guitar.” He said, glancing away from your perturbed expression. “And it was really loud in the other room so I wanted to stay in here, ma femme parfaite.” He trailed off, not making eye contact while saying the last part.

“You can’t just switch into French and assume I understand,” You ridiculed him, pulling your tights on. “For all I know, you just called me a “cunt-bitch -whore” I teased, a playful smile pulling at my lips.

“The world may never know,” he said, lying back on the bed, slight smirk playing on his lips. His hair fell across his forehead, eyes closing, strumming his bass absentmindedly. And for a second, you wanted to kiss him.

-

The band unloaded out your car, hauling the musical equipment towards the entrance of the venue. Pushing through the door, you followed closely behind Olive, trying not to bump your band mates with the case of your guitar. The venue was still completely empty, to your relief. It was big, clearly a party scene. There was a slight haze in the air, from what, you don’t know.

Jake, being the manager, walked across the venue, beginning to set up the -sparse- merch he had designed for the band. It was a typical black band tee, but with the name of your band, “L'Enfance Nue”, sprawled across the upper half.

The rest of us decidedly walked over towards the stage, hauling the equipment behind you.

You hopped up onto the stage, placing your guitar and amp cord close to the center, but a little to stage left. Olive was already in the center with Miles, attempting to plug in their microphones to the questionable-looking amp.

Kyle stood to your stage left, also puzzling over the amp and his bass.

“Fuck this. My plug doesn’t fit,” He grumbled, standing up from his crouched position. Turning towards you, he demanded “Did you switch our cords, belle?”

You rolled your eyes at his antics, flipping your hair over your shoulder. Approaching the amp, you grabbed Kyle’s bass right out of his hands. You briefly glanced over it, noticing the black sheen and the shallow scratches throughout the face of the instrument.

You glanced up at him briefly; making, then quickly breaking, eye contact. His brunette hair had fallen into his eyes, mouth slightly agape, creating an aloof look.

You knew better.

“Oh,” you laughed, pulling the plug out of the socket on his bass. “You had the cord twisted. This side,” you clicked it into the amp, “goes here, and this” you finished the circuit, fully plugging in the instrument, “goes into here! Dumbass.” You laughed, strumming a B7 chord on the bass.

“Give that back, belle!” He demanded, grabbing your hand, which was now attempting a bass line that he plays during one of the songs.

“You can’t even play..” he trailed off, staring at your ring-clad hand. His hazel eyes drifted back up to yours, stopping briefly on your parted lips. An annoying smirk tugged on the corners of him mouth.

The position you two were in hit you like a bus. Your bodies were nearly touching, with his hand grasping yours, and his bass hanging from a strap around your shoulders. To an outsider looking in, you were about to kiss.

Yeah right.

You punched his shoulder with your opposite hand, backing away from him. Kyle scoffed, putting his hands up in surrender. Passing him his bass, you padded over to your own cord and instrument, plugging it in and tuning.

Your fingers played with the knobs on the guitar, adjusting it to perfection. You could feel Kyle’s insidious gaze on your profile, but you decidedly avoided eye contact. An embarrassed redness creeped up your neck, the tension of the room was becoming unbearable.

The lights in the venue began to dim, and the stage lights lit up. The ambiance of the room shifted, stirring your nerves. This was really happening, your first show.

-

The night went by in a haze, but the only thing you could really focus on was Kyle. He was in “the zone”, so to speak.

His hair was in his eyes, mouth hanging slightly open. A light sheen coated his forehead, dark eyeliner smudged around his eyes. He was strumming his bass with quick, ring-clad fingers, body swaying slightly to the beat.

And, despite his fuck-boyness, he looked angelic.

Kyle, finishing his bass line, glanced up at you, smirking. You smiled back, completing your solo at the end of the song.

The crowd cheered, a sound that was simply music to your ears. They loved you, loved the band. You basked in the glow of their cheers, hugging Olive from the side.

Kyle sneaked up behind the both of you, slinging his arm around your shoulder. He was smiling the brightest you’ve ever seen him smile, laughter was pouring from his lips like song.

Olive glanced at you mischievously, a small smirk pulling at her cherry lips.

“Y’all wanna hear some punk-ass French?!” She yelled into the microphone, laughing as the crowd erupted in cheers.

You both pushed Kyle forward, giggling as his face turned a bright crimson.

“Um, hey guys,” He said into the mic. There was a few whoops from the crowd, egging him on. “Nous sommes “L’Enfance nue”!” He said, laughing under his breath. “Nous sommes plutôt cool, alors... ouais. Passe une bonne nuit!” The crowd erupted into cheers and clapping.

You never wanted the night to end.

-

But, like all things, it did.

And now you wanted nothing more than to shower and relax, in your bed, alone.

Alas, Olive decided tonight, of all nights, was the night to make a move on Miles. And so, Olive sat on his lap in the backseat of your car, loudly making out with him.

And when you arrived at the hotel, they had wordlessly claimed the room with the two beds, locking the door swiftly behind them.

-

“Guys!! Really? Come ON!” You yelled, banging on the door. Turning to the group, you sighed, crossing your arms. “What are we going to do?” You groaned, leaning against the wall.

“Well.. I guess I can find another hotel..” Jake said, scratching the back of his head bashfully.

“I’ll go with him!” Tony quickly agreed, following Jake out of the hotel. You turned to Kyle, sighing reluctantly.

-

“Alright" you declared, marching towards the door. "Let's get this over with." Kyle followed, his movements mirroring yours. The small walk down the cramped hallway was filled with a tension.

Neither of you dared to speak. Reaching the door, you fumbled for the key, your irritation evident in your clumsiness. Finally, with a click, the door swung open, revealing a room that was thoroughly unappealing.

The bed loomed before you, a battleground for an uncomfortable night's sleep. With a sigh, you began building a formidable fortress of pillows in the center of the bed. Kyle rolled his eyes at the sight, scoffing at you.

“We’re not children, belle,” Kyle stated, starting to dismantle your fortress.

“‘You could’ve fooled me, Ky,” you said, giving up on the pillows. Grabbing your bag, you walked swiftly into the bathroom, hoping to change into something more comfortable.

There was a certain absurdity to the situation, being forced to share a room with someone who you refused to love.

And unfortunately, your resolve you crumbling.

-

You sat at the small vanity, brushing your hair out. You saw Kyle approaching you out in the reflection, but you refused to make direct eye contact.

You knew what was about to happen.

He touched your shoulder lightly, rubbing circles on the exposed skin.

-

“You’re beautiful,” he told you, his voice still soft. “You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”

“Thank you.” Your voice is soft, too, but it is also nervous, almost fearful.

He knelt down. “Belle, look at me.”

You bit your lip. You didn’t want to look at him. In fact, you were quite sure everyone would be infinitely better off if you never laid eyes on him again, bandmate or no.

You did, though, turning around on the chair hesitantly. He took your hands in his, smiling at you in such a way that your heart fluttered.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” He whispered, clutching your hands. “Your heart is safe with me,” he finished, blushing lightly.

“But I know you,” you told him softly with a slight shake of your head, “And I can’t do this.”

He tensed, his hands tightening around yours. “Why not?”

You shook your head again.

You couldn’t tell him why you refused to allow him to have you, despite him trying so many times in the past. You knew how he felt about you.

But you know how he is, what he does.

“I love you, belle,” he whispered fiercely. “I’ve loved you for months. I want you. I need you.”

“You don’t,” you insisted, yanking your hands away and standing up, backing away from him.

He stepped forward. You turned around, adjusting a table decoration to distract yourself from him.

Then, footsteps.

Hands on your hips.

Being pulled gently backwards.

The firm lines of a male body pressed against you.

The heat emanating from him, seeping through your clothes and into your skin.

“I do,” he said quietly, pulling your hair to one side and leaning down to press kisses into the skin of your neck.

You tried desperately not to whimper.

Logical or not, you wanted him to touch you, and had for a long time.

Kyle’s grip on your hips tightened. “I want you,” he said again. “I need to be yours” Another kiss to your neck. “Please, belle. Please don’t turn ms down. I’ll be good to you, I promise,” he swore. “The best you’ve ever had.” Another kiss, this one open-mouthed.

“I want to fill you,” he murmured. “With me at first, again and again until you’re screaming for it, screaming for me .” He slid his hands up and down your sides, lingering on your hips. “Then I want to fill you with my children.” Another kiss. “And then me again. I’ve been with a lot of women, and I know… I know I’ll never tire of you, never get enough of you.”

You knew he’d been with a great many women, but hearing him say it was like an ice shard in your chest anyway.

“How many?” You whispered, your voice sharp.

“You mean, uh…” he trailed off, embarrassed.

“How many women?”

He didn’t speak for several seconds.

“About seven.”

Another ice shard.

“I see.”

“Does it bother you?” he questioned.

You didn’t say anything at first, but then, “You know it does,”

“But I love you,” Kyle pointed out, winding his arms around your waist and resting his head on your shoulder. “I have for so long” You almost scoffed. Then, after a moment, he murmured, “Are you jealous?” 

“Of course not,” you said primly.

His hands tightened on your hips, his fingers digging into the fabric of your shorts.

“I like that you’re jealous,” he told you, nuzzling your neck.

“I’m not,” you snapped.

Kyle chuckled softly, then sighed and said, “I won’t force you.” He stepped away from you. “But I… I need you to know,” he went on, “that I care for you a great deal. I’ll make it special for you. I’ll make it good for you,” he promised. “I can make you beg for me. I can make you burn for me as I burn for you.”

You turned towards him, bracing your hands against the table behind you for fear you’d fall over, shock evident on your face.

“You…” you paused, “you burn for me?”

He stepped towards you again until he was right in front of you, then cupped your cheeks in his hands. “Haven’t you seen the way I look at you?”

You shook your head, eyes wide.

“Let me be yours, belle,” he murmured, gazing longingly at your reddened lips. “Let me make you feel good.” He was leaning towards you slowly, gauging your reaction. “Please. I need you,” he said again, desperate for you. “Say you’ll have me,” he pleaded. “Say you'll let me take you, make you mine.”

“Aren’t I already yours?” You wondered aloud. Realizing your words, you slapped a hand over your mouth, face turning red.

Kyle smirked at you, chucking softly. “If you are mine I am certainly yours,” he responded.

You’d never thought you’d want to belong to someone, but you wanted to belong to him. Your heart and soul have belonged to him for a long time, though you’d never tell him that. What difference did it make if your body belonged to him, too?

You shouldn’t. You should refuse him. He would break your heart, and there’d be nothing you could do to escape him. You couldn’t very well kick him out of the band, could you?

You shouldn’t let him touch you, but with him looking at you that way, you weren’t sure you could refuse. Your resolve crumbled.

He’s already going to break my heart, you realized.

Unintentional it may be, but he will destroy you nonetheless, and there’s nothing you can do to stop it. If you let him do as he wishes, at least you’ll have him in this small way. At least you’ll be able to pretend, for a moment, that he’s truly in love with you, too.

You couldn’t refuse him. You wanted this with him too much.

You clenched your eyes shut and nodded slightly. 

Within seconds, Kyle’s hand was in your hair and his lips were moving against yours with barely restrained passion. He wound his free arm around your waist, tilting his head slightly. 

His lips never leaving yours, moving against you with a gentle pressure, he began to untie drawstring that was keeping your shorts on your waist.

Having been the only person to ever see your body since you’d passed that age of 10, you nearly pushed him away from you, nearly swatted his hands away.

He was still kissing you when he slid your tank-top off of your torso. “Tilt your head,” he said quietly, looking into your eyes. You did so. “Move your lips like I do, okay?” You nodded your understanding, and he smiled. “Good. When my tongue touches yours, just do what I do, belle.”

“What does that mean?” You asked, your voice quiet and rushed as he moved in to kiss you again. “You’ve been calling me that all night”

“Belle?” he questioned. You nodded, and he smiled again. “It means ‘beautiful’.”

You blushed. “Oh.”

And then he kissed you again. Hard. You wanted more, wanted his lips to keep moving against yours, and when you tentatively mirrored his actions, he moaned against you, gripping your hip with one hand and placing the other at the small of your back. When he felt the fabric of your bra, however, he froze.

And you remembered that he hadn’t actually taken the time to look at you in your underwear alone. He pulled back slowly, his eyes sliding down your body.

It was a fairly typical set, black lace and pink stitching that led to a bow in the center. It pushed your breasts together slightly, and hugged your curves closely.

It left nothing to the imagination.

The shapes and lines of your body were visible. The color of your nipples, the slightly curved expanse of your stomach, the slender dip of your waist and the swell of your hips.

Kyle could see every part of you, and he stared at you for nearly a minute, his eyes wide and his mouth hanging open just a fraction, before the two of them appeared to snap out of the trance they’d been in; him after seeing your body, and you at the horror of him seeing your body.

You crossed one leg in front of the other and covered your breasts with your arms.

Kyle, on the other hand, was in the process of pulling his shirt off as quickly as physically possible.

“No,” he practically growled as he yanked his shirt over his head and promptly began to unbuckle his belt, shucking off his shoes and socks at the same time. “Don’t hide yourself from me.”

You stared at him, wide-eyed, as he stripped down to his undergarments (a cotton pair of short pants with a drawstring, which he quickly undid) before sliding those over his hipbones, too, with absolutely zero hesitation.

You didn’t even get a look at his dick, he was on you so fast.

He kissed you roughly, with a groan of, “Belle,” against your lips as he slid the straps of your bra down your shoulders. It caught on the tops of your breasts, and you kissed him back hesitantly. “Take this off, amour.”

He kissed your neck wetly and began to suck on the skin there, and you were lost. Slipping your arms out of the confines of the bra, pulling it off your frame. You allowed him to slide your underwear down your legs, too, so that it pooled at your feet.

And then you were naked before him. Well and truly naked. He stopped kissing you, pulling away from you, panting. “Let me look at you.” When you lifted your arms up to block your breasts from view again, he grabbed your wrists. “No,” he said softly. “No. Tu m'appartiens maintenant.”

You found you quite liked the way French rolled off his tongue. Particularly the way he his mouth moved with every foreign syllable.

“What does that mean?” You asked, forcing your embarrassment at being so exposed from your mind.

He grinned. “It means you belong to me now.”

Yes, something deep inside of you whispered. I am yours.

And then you glanced down at his body for the first time, and…

No. No, this wasn’t going to work. It was not what you’d been expecting at all.

You have masterbated before, and it was indeed pleasurable. But that was two of your fingers, maybe three. Naturally, you’d assumed that a man would be about the same size (and therefore endurable) as your fingers.

Kyle was… Well. He most certainly wasn’t the same size as your fingers. In fact, he was about as thick as your wrist, or very nearly so, and seemed to be close to 7 inches.

Fuck.

This wouldn’t work. No, it certainly would not.

You looked back up at him, scoffing. He was taking a step towards you. You took one back. He raised an eyebrow at you, and you shook your head in response, earning a frown from your newfound partner.

“Nope,” you squeaked, taking another step back.

“Nope? Why ‘nope’?”

“If,” you began, “if that is what you plan on putting inside me, then I’m sorry to tell you, Kyle, but but there’s no fucking way”

He blinked at you in confusion. “Amour.” He said the pet name slowly, drawing out the syllables. “I promise you, it’s not impossible.”

“We can try, I guess,” you conceded, still inwardly skeptical.

Pushing past your worries, you tilted your head to the side, beckoning him back towards you. And when he pressed his body to yours, you felt it against your stomach.

Good god, but it felt even larger than it looked.

“I’ll prepare you,” Kyle promised, one of his hands resting on your hip. “You were made to take me.” He pressed a kiss just below your ear. “I know you were.” And then, he was murmuring French again. “Je vais te faire mendier pour ma bite.”

“What does that mean?” You gasped out as he trailed kisses up your neck and peppered your jaw with them.

He smirked against your skin. 

“It means I’ll make you beg for my dick.”

You whimpered. “Let me make you scream for me,” he said huskily before kissing you again, even more fiercely than he had before.

“Ky,” you gasped out as he laved at your neck. “Kyle, please—“

“I will,” he promised, cupping your cheek and kissing you hungrily. “Spread your legs for me, mon amour.”

You pushed down your nervousness by force and did so, too absorbed in him to ask the meaning of what he’d said. Once your legs were spread, he slipped his hand between them and began to stroke you.

He groaned when his fingertips first brushed against you. “You’re so wet,” he said hoarsely. “God, you must want me as much as I want you.” You didn’t speak, because he was kissing you again. And then he brushed his fingers against your clit, and you knew it was over for you. Your resolve snapped.

He rubbed you with one hand and grasped your breast with the other, stroking your nipple.

A whimper forced its way out of your throat, and he chuckled against your lips. “Does it feel good?” He was still stroking you between your legs, sending sparks of pure electricity shooting through your veins, and the fingers caressing your breast had started to pinch your nipple lightly. “Tell me if it feels good,” he encouraged.

“It— it does,” You gasped out as he trailed kisses along your jaw.

“Je vais te baiser jusqu'à ce que tu ne puisses plus bouger, jusqu'à ce que tu ne puisses plus respirer, jusqu'à ce que tu ne puisses penser à rien d'autre qu'à moi,” he murmured in your ear.

“Kyle,” you whimpered, “if you— if you’re going to speak French, you have to translate it.”

“I’ll try to remember that.” He rubbed you a little bit faster, pinched your nipple a little bit harder. “I said I’m going to fuck you until you can’t move,” he told you lowly, “until you can’t breathe, until you can’t think of anything but me.”

He slid a finger inside of you, and it was insanely better than when you’d tried it on yourself. It was… it was divine. He pulled the finger out again, pumping it a few times and rubbing that spot with his thumb all the while.

A wet squelching sound filled the room that you were embarrassed by, but Kyle seemed to revel in it. “So wet for me,” he groaned, leaning his forehead against your shoulder and sliding another finger inside you.

You clutched at his shoulders, and your hips started to move against his hand. As soon as you became physically responsive, he lifted his head and kissed you desperately, his hand leaving your breast to cup your cheek as you practically rode his fingers.

You panted and whimpered, and when he saw you biting your lip in effort to keep quiet, he pulled your lip out from between your teeth with his thumb, stroking it.

“I want every part of you,” he whispered on an exhale. “I want to hear every sound you make. Don’t you dare hide them.”

Shutting your eyes tightly and letting your head fall back against the wall with a soft thunk, you stopped trying to suppress your whimpers and cries of his name.

“Kyle, Kyle, ah, ah, Kyle—“

“I know, gentille fille,” he said quietly. “I know.”

“Oh, God, Kyle—“ you cried out.

“Trust me, beautiful. Let go.”

You were certain you were going to die. It felt as if he continued, you would die. It felt good, it felt incredible. You didn’t know how he was simply so good, but you were so grateful for it.

“Let go,” he said again, and you fisted a hand in his unruly hair, kissing him with a desperation you hadn’t known you’d had in you. His tongue brushed against yours, and you moaned into his mouth, yearning for him.

You were going to explode after all. This orgasm, it was building inside of you, and with it, your love for him was, too, and he kept thrusting his fingers into you, kept stroking you with his thumb, and you kissed him again, for fear you couldn’t contain the words within you, but then your head leaned back of its own accord.

“Kyle Kyle Kyle please, please don’t stop—“ you moaned loudly, chanting his name like a prayer.

“I won’t,” he promised darkly. “Cum for me, amour.” You cried out again, and he leaned down and bit your neck. “That’s it,” he encouraged. “Cum for me.”

“Ah ah ah, oh fuck, Kyle—“ You were sobbing now, and Kyle leaned down to suckle at your nipples, biting them gently. You practically screamed, and then you burst into starlight, and as you did, something emerged from you that you couldn’t have contained no matter how hard you tried.

“Ky,” you were sobbing.

“I know,” he murmured against your breast.

“Kyle, I love you, please, I— I love you, I love you I love you I love you, Fuck, Kyle, ah!” He froze when he heard you say it, but you were already clenching around his fingers, your body convulsing.

He pulled back from you and removed his fingers from within you, still in shock.

“Really?” He finally murmured, tilting your chin up softly. His hazel eyes gazing back into yours.

“Yeah,” you said softly, caressing his cheek. “Yeah.” You repeated louder, a smile tugging at your lips.

-

And they lived happily ever after blah blah blah

-

[jrswritings]

Tingles and Giggles - Chapter Twenty-Six - Tyler Owens x Reader

Get caught up with Chapters 1-25 on the Masterlist! :)

Chapter Twenty-Six - God's Country

Once Tyler had dried off and was dressed in jeans and a white shirt, he put on his cowboy hat and grabbed his phone. You were in a white tank top, light pink light-weight denim jacket, blue jeans, and one of Tyler’s not-so-gross ball caps.

“Ready to head out, princess?” He asked, admiring the beautiful you look. 

“I think so,” you said, putting some chapstick on and grabbing your smaller over-the-shoulder purse. 

“So it’s 2:45 now. What time do you want to head to your folks?” Tyler asked, holding the door open for you. 

“Probably a little before 4, that way I can show you my old room and my parents house,” you said, putting your sunglasses on. 

“Works for me,” he said, grabbing your hand and heading to the elevator.

  “There really isn’t much to do here now though, there’s bars but most don’t have much going on during the day. They only really start getting going around 6pm or later,” you said, “There’s a park a couple of blocks away we can go sit at though. They have swings next to a pond.” 

“Anywhere with you sounds good to me,” he said, pulling you close and wrapping his arm around your shoulders. 

“Yeah, yeah,” you said, “You say that now, wait until you get sick of me.” 

“Which will be never,” he said, walking outside the inn and putting his sunglasses on. 

“We’ll see about that,” you said, following suit and putting your sunglasses on. 

“Try me, little lady,” he said, kissing your temple. 

“I will,” you said, starting to walk off towards the park. 

“So, are you going to tell me more about Jamie?” He asked. 

“Well, he’s my older brother. He was in the military, had a palomino named Duke,” you said, “Basically the apple of my parents eyes, nothing he did was ever wrong. He would get his heart broken by some chick he met and they’d console him indefinitely until he brought home the next one.” 

“So, their favorite?” He asked. 

“Yes, and now it’s just me and it’s like I’ll never be enough for them.” You groaned, walking over to one of the empty bench swings. 

“I see,” he said, “Does he do rodeos? Or racing?” 

“He did rodeos, Duke passed before he got out of the military,” you said, scooting closer to Tyler once he sat down. 

“What part of the military was he in?” Tyler asked.

“Army, was all he ever dreamed about growing up. Every Halloween it was a soldier,” you laughed, “One year my dad even made him a remote controlled tank to drive on Halloween.” 

“That sounds pretty sweet if you ask me,” he said, wrapping his arm around you. 

“Oh, it was, I’m sure they still have it even,” you said, “Jamie and Caleb were in the same troop and were the best of friends. One of those for life type of friends.” 

“Do you have any of those?” Tyler asked, “I have Boone, we met in high school.” 

“I used to be close with Ivy, Caleb’s sister. After I moved to Oklahoma we grew apart. Then I have Willow, but obviously that probably isn’t going to end well,” you sighed. 

“Kinda became the black sheep, huh?” He asked, “Sounds like me.” 

“Growing up we spent a lot of time with my Uncle Oliver and Aunt Vicky, my parents were always out doing something. Cattle shows, butchering cattle. Cattle usually came before me and even Jamie,” you said, “It’s what they live and breathe practically.” 

“I got the impression that Oliver and Vicky were cooler than your folks,” he chuckled, “Super laid back and supportive.” 

“My uncle calls me doodlebug, since I always would doodle at their house and bug him while in the barn,” you said, “My dad? Doesn’t even call me his baby girl or anything you could call a daughter. Just (Y/n).”

“They’ll come around baby, they’ll realize they have an amazing daughter who they’re missing out on,” he said, kissing your cheek and giving your shoulders a squeeze. 

“I hope so,” you sighed, “Otherwise I was close with my mom’s dad, we called him Poppy but his name was Tom. He died when I was 22 and I was crushed.” 

“My Papa, my dad’s dad, was the person I was close to after my folks passed, I was kind of close to Evan but not really,” Tyler said, “I was 17 when they were killed in a car crash out in Wyoming.”

“What happened?” You asked softly. 

“Drunk semi driver and all those mountains don’t mix well,” he signed, “I was stayin’ with Auntie B at the time as it was their anniversary weekend and they wanted to get away.”

“I’m sorry, Ty,” you whispered, kissing his cheek softly, “Is your papa still around?” 

“Oh yeah, him and my GiGi are retired up in Montana; or as they call it, God’s country,” he said. 

“I’d say Minnesota is God’s country, but we can agree they both are,” you said, “My grandpa and grandma have a cabin up in the Duluth area, so when I was 23 I stayed up there for a few weeks in the summer.” 

“Sounds like we need to do some road tripping to Montana and Minnesota,” he said with a smile. 

“I’d love that, I know those grandparents were going to leave me the cabin when they pass because I’m the only one whe’s ever gone up there and took care of the place,” you said while resting your head on Tyler’s shoulder. 

“Sounds like we’ll have a great place to vacation in the summer,” he said, resting his head on yours. 

“Oh it’s a beautiful place, it butts up to Lake Superior but it’s far enough away from the shore to not get damage from when the ice comes on the shore in the winter,” you said, “Four bedrooms, big campfire area.” 

“Damn, if it didn’t get so cold up there I’d say let’s move, but I don’t think they get many tornadoes?” He asked.

“There’s some, but they’re further south,” you said, “And they’re not ones we are used to chasing, baby.” 

“A tornado is a tornado,” he shrugged, “I hate to ruin our moment, but it’s almost 3:30 and we should head back to the truck to head to your folks.” 

“Yeah, great way to ruin our moment,” you said, sitting up and stretching out your arms. 

“What can I say, I’m good at some things,” he said, getting up and taking your hand. 

The walk back to the truck was quiet as you were mentally preparing yourself for what the next couple of hours could unfold at your parents. Were you finally going to lose your mind? Were they finally going to turn around? Were they going to accept Tyler? Even though you told yourself you didn’t care, you still did. 

Taglist: @fanboyswhore9 @faith719 @ummmeg @nerdgirljen @winterassassin1804 @smoothdogsgirl @xbox5angelx @ifilwtmfc @djs8891 @watashiwababy @mackevanstanfan80 @x3zerochanx3

[kiddiewrites]

I'll break every bone in your body while naning them pt.1

A story of an army doctor... and how they learn to take your strength into account.

Ok, im so so so sooooo sorry for not updating, life has been chaos lately but but but i bring to you a tiny story about the time someone tried to fuck around and found out.

Platonic!T.F.141 x reader, Minor Injuries , bit of OOC T.F. 141, pining!reader, Sexual Harassment (they get what they deserve), Not proofread

MASTERLIST

So medic!reader who’s all sunshine and cutey and nice, all soft curves and chubby cheeks and soft giggles but… strong. Like FREAKISHLY strong, there’s a reason your threat to Johnny wasn’t taken lightly by the others, they’ve seen you and they KNOW that you absolutely will do it.

What happened? Well it went like this: 

One of the rare night’s out where you’re allowed a tiny leave you went to the pub with the guys, them being a little reluctant to you being there but at the end won over by puppy eyes and a promised first round. 

We ALL know that civilian clothes do wonders for the boys, not really their usual outfits but …

GOOOOOD 

The black jeans hugging Ghost’s powerful thighs and the deep gray loose hoodie (god knows where he got it cause… THAT’S a BIG MAN)covering almost every inch of skin. His blonde hair covered by a black cap with a few tufts peeking out of it, his face covered by a black surgical mask along with his black combat boots already making him look as his usually sexy scary self. Not that you were looking…

Johnny wore khaki shorts and mountain trainers (why? Idk he looks like a guy who would do it uwu specially if it’s cold af) A loose white t-shirt, though “loose” it’s a mild way to put it… The man is built like a tank (he has massive pillowy strong titties, fight me) so the shirt expands across his well formed chest, letting the fabric drop over his stomach. And don’t even get me started on the way the sleeves FIGHT to stay in one piece, his arms are almost the size of your face, his biceps bulging with every flex aaaand maybe stoooop staring.

Kyle decided on a bit more of a soft approach, dark blue jeans that seemed a bit too tight but not as intense as Ghost’s but still it was a nice view from the back, the light brown sweater he had on concealed a bit of the muscles he had built over the years, Key Word: A bit. The sweater bulged over the muscles of his arms and hugged his toned chest in every perfect way. Along with his freshly groomed mustache and beard… Kyle was a vision; the warm energy he exuded was enough to send your head spinning in the most delicious way.

The captain had a navy blue t-shirt, his strong arms making it seem tighter than intended, although not as tight as Johnny’s, the small pudge of belly hanging beautifully over his dark blue jeans, the dark brown belt and trainer boots tying it all together. His mutton chops recently groomed making him look even hotter than he already is (I swear to GOD Price has me on a chokehold 😍 Such a fine MAN 🤤) 

Walking down the road to the jeep issued for your unit, you missed the glances headed your way from the boys, a cute warm baby pink sweater exposing your neckline and some of your shoulders, the cleavage stopping just right above your chest line, sleeves rolled up a bit to prevent them from getting in the way, tight ripped clear blue jeans paired with pink converse make you look even younger than you were, your (h/c) pulled back a bit just enough to get the hair out of your face by pins with a few strands falling from them. The boys knew that you’re a beautiful girl, seeing you in the more laid back outfit without the military issued uniform had them quickly looking away when you turned to look at them.

You took the middle seat with Kyle and Johnny by your sides, Simon climbed in at the copilot seat and the captain was driving. The drive to the pub was calm with a small talk with Kyle about the type of music you both enjoyed, Johnny joined in the conversation every now and then , Price smiled a bit at the sight of you getting along better with the team and even felt his grip on the wheel loosen a bit but he knew it was only temporary. Simon tried really hard to maintain his eyes on the road but his eyes couldn’t help but to deviate to the rear view mirror where he had a perfect view of your jean clad legs, the fat of your thighs relaxing against the hard seat of the jeep making it really hard for him to tear his eyes away.

However Simon was not the only one to notice the soft edges of your body moving and jiggling with the movement of the truck

Johnny had his arm placed around your headrest and everytime he turned to join the conversation he felt his side squishing you and it felt so good, the urge to just hug you by the waist and bury his head in your pretty tummy was…  Intense

He was known to be some sort of a flirt and had a very friendly way with people, but lately he was being a bit short with you. You attributed it to the stress of the missions so when the opportunity came to take some sort of leave you took the chance, much to the starting annoyance of the team. They still treated you kindly but it was kind of disheartening.

When you arrived at the pub Kyle helped you down the van and offered his arm for you to take - Such a gentleman, Sarge.- You smiled up at him and took his arm into yours,  your other hand resting over it. Your chest pressing against his arm was so soft and so warm, he felt himself blush as he smiled back at you.

Once inside it seemed like they had a designated table, the bartender smiled up at them and wave them at a tabla at the back -I’ll be right there boys!- a cute smile adorning his features he seemed well acquainted with them

John thanked him and led the way to the table with Simon and Johnny following behind both you and Kyle announced you were going for the drinks. The guys shouted back at you what they wanted and you headed up to the bar.

As you were walking a sudden slap at your booty had you wiping your head so fast Kyle thought you might snap your neck. It was all so sudden so you didn’t had the chance to pinpoint who the bastard was, but Kyle did.

An older man with obviously a lot to drink laughed loudly at your face along with his friends, Kyle immediately went up to grab him but the friends of the other men had you surrounded in a matter of moments.

-What’s tha matta, soldier boy? Yer net gonna tell me that fat ass wasn made to be slap’d aroun’ aren’t ya?-

If the look full of fury didn’t kill the man the right hook to the chin must definitely brought him to the edge of it. Thanks to the booze the friends of the drunk man had little time to react before they realized it wasn’t the man that threw the first punch…

It was you…

The strength of your punch was enough for the man to just fall to the ground with a Thump and gave enough time for the rest of your squad to get to where you were at.

The way you looked at the man had him scared enough to try and run away. Emphasis on "Try"

Simon grabbed the man by his collar and picked him up, you couldn’t really make out what he was saying, given that one of the drunk friends tried to lounge at you.

To their utter surprise they saw you fling that man over your head and into the ground nearly hitting his head against the edge of the table

- By all means, keep doing something stupid. Im begging you to give me the excuse -...

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[hummingjay]

Remember Nova and Cicada? Well, here's the team!

Featuring Nova, Cicada, and newer addition Leiden!

Hey look, a cut! There'd BETTER NOT be a wall of text under that thing.

Nova- LSTR

Before working as a Handler, Nova served as demolitions specialist in the Eusan Infantry, doubling as reconnaissance specialist; making for a devastating combination of effectively analyzing enemy encampments before blowing it right to hell. Her skills were viewed as apt and her commanding officers had her transferred to a strike team. She uses a variety of shrapnel, high-explosive, and incendiary grenades during combat, strategically obliterating assets. 

As a SKUA strike team handler, Nova is privileged with the best equipment of the army. Despite this, she only uses this advantage to choose grenades amongst other explosives- using an old bolt-action rifle loaded with simple but effective armor-piercing rounds. She carries a hatchet on her person for survivalist purposes as well as combat. Her armor is unorthodox as well- crafted from recycled steel plates with the help of befriended ARAR units.

Nova has a mischievous, teasing, and nonchalant personality, mixed with a penchant for taking the single most unorthodox method of completing a task. Her methods are officially cataloged as “Odd, concerning, entirely terrifying”. Such methods include driving a captured truck loaded with explosives directly into an enemy convoy, using landmines strapped to the grille to detonate upon impact while using duct tape to hold the accelerator down, as well as dousing a downed tree in gasoline before having cicada throw it an the enemy.

Nova seldom wears her gasmask, only donning it when in the vicinity of hazards or in irradiated areas. She also smokes quite a lot.

Cicada- SKUR

Cicada is the powerhouse of the team. Before now, she worked with two other handlers at differing times, both deceased. Cicada carries a powerful machine gun meant for overwhelming suppressing fire; However, she’s a crack shot and instead uses it to accurately and utterly annihilate the enemy with high-caliber rounds. To complement her HMG, she uses an automatic shotgun for closer ranges. 

She has memorized every weak spot of tanks, IFVs, and other combat vehicles and uses this knowledge to disable them with only a few rounds. Not that it matters at close range, as she can tear open almost any vehicle. She’s also able to stop vehicles in their tracks at high speeds and throw smaller ones, as discovered by imperial soldiers who attempted to crash her. Cicada, despite her terrifying visage and combat skills, is a gentle and caring unit, most fascinated by local fauna and likes watching large herds travel. If she can get close, she’ll try to pet the deer and horses. She’s especially upset that she cannot ride them- but is content with them resting on her instead. Oddly, if she names the fauna, she will give them designations instead of names, such as "D4" for the fourth deer found, stating "It is better they choose their names. "She also has a special interest in flowers, liking to adorn herself with them.

Nova has an affectionate nickname for her: Cica. Leiden calls her Cicada at all times.

Cicada is fond of Ara units especially, as they generally have assortments of flowers and can guide her to where they grow. Whenever they are actually at a camp, Cicada will sometimes gently try to approach them, although the Aras are usually terrified of her- so she will simply hang to the side and leave them on their own most times. She will also sit just outside where the Eules work, so she can listen to them sing. Reportedly, she attempted to sing with them once, and never again, likely due to their reaction.

Leiden- KLBR

Since Nova and Cicada operate well away from Eusan forces for long periods of time; often missing the routine check-ins for Cicadas mental state, ÆON has stationed a kolibri unit with the two for constant monitoring, by the name of Leiden; Thus allowing the team to stay away even longer.

While small, do not underestimate Leiden. Before her restationing as a handler, she served as a brutal interrogator, torturer, and executioner, and is horrifically known for brutal methods and high-efficiency, mixed with a ruthless streak that borders on sadism. Originally stationed at a facility with a distinct lack of Storches, she fulfilled their brutal roles in their stead, discovering a talent for the crafts. What info Nova cannot recover via surveillance, espionage, or stolen documents, Leiden recovers from remaining imperial soldiers. There is only one way to survive Leiden’s interrogations, and that’s to give her what she wants; the truth. She can smell a lie a planet away. Lies only make the torturous onslaught worse- and refusal to divulge only makes it longer.

Unlike Nova, Leiden uses her privileges as a handler to use a high-power Submachine gun loaded with powerful hollow-point long-range fragmenting rounds. She's adept at long ranges and aims for the neck. When needed, she disables targets by aiming for and severing tendons and muscle at the legs and arms, thus leaving them unable to run away or fight but alive for interrogation at a later time. Unlike Nova, Leiden almost constantly wears her gasmask, only adding to her terrifying visage. Leiden is older than she looks, and even before the infantry, served for years as a blockwart officer- though she does not talk of her time there. It is speculated that she had a lover during that time who was lost- most likely a kolibri who was decommissioned or disappeared- she never said- and elected transfer to the infantry of her own volition to escape the memories.

Leiden has numerous scars on the left side of her jaw- allegedly scratch marks from an animal- though this is still more info she does not divulge, and the marks look strangely similar to that from a replika’s hand.

The only soft spots one can find are those for Cicada and Nova. She respects both Cicada and Nova’s prowess in combat. She finds Nova’s good-natured and humorous tendencies to be amusing, and finds Cicada oddly cute for a a 7.5 foot tall behemoth of death, especially when she earnestly asks if she can be excused to pet the deer. Nova likes to call her Lei, and she’s the only one who can do this other than Cicada, who usually just calls her Leiden or Protektor Leiden.

[heartbreak-hotel-35]

Captain

Elvis Presley x Fem!Reader

There had been many dates with Elvis Presley. But there was one in particular that changed our relationship forever. The night he took me out on his new boat he’d named, ‘Gladys’.

A/N: a little on the shorter side with this one. But it’s LOADED with fluff and kisses. So I hope it’s enjoyable!

60s Elvis / Post Army Elvis

• •—•• •••— •• •••

“Where are you taking me?” I asked for the millionth time today. Elvis’ hand only squeezed my thigh lovingly.

“You’ll find out, Mama. Patience.” He repeated himself. The same answer as every other time I’d asked. I sighed heavily, adjusting the collar of my tank top and sitting in mostly silence for the rest of the drive. Elvis had the radio turned up and the windows down, donning his signature toothy grin. Only there was something mischievous behind it.

After a while longer, Elvis pulled the car off the road and drove up a dusty road, messing the shiny red paint of his MG MGA 1600. He rolled the windows up and untied the white ascot from around his neck.

“Tie that over your eyes for me.” He said, handing me the silk cloth. I looked over at him, brows furrowed in confusion.

“Why?” I asked, taking it from him. “You kidnapping me, Honey?” I began to tie it over my now closed eyes, not feeling the slightest bit silly. He was my comfort and confidence.

“In a way, sure.” He said teasingly. I felt his lips on my cheek in a brief but loving kiss. I secured the knot behind my head and dropped my hands to my lap, staring into the nothingness of my lids.

“Comfortable?” Elvis asked, his hand reaching out to massage the back of my neck. I hung my head, humming softly in amusement.

“As I can be.” I replied, feeling blindly for his thigh. I heard him snicker at me, but I didn’t mind much. The sound never ceased to make me smile. Then the car lurched slightly, coming to a stop. Elvis put it in park and I felt the seat dipping slightly as he scooted closer. His arm draped over my shoulders and he buried his face in my neck, peppering my skin with kisses.

“EP, I know you did not bring me out here just to kiss me while I’m blindfolded.” I said, leaning into his touch.

“Why? You don’t like it?” He muttered lowly, punctuating the question with another kiss. I chewed the inside of my bottom lip, relishing the feeling of his breath against my skin.

“I didn’t say that.” I finally answered, lifting my hand to hold the one that he had hanging over my right shoulder. His thumb brushed my knuckle tenderly. He hummed a tune I couldn’t quite put my finger on then I heard him shuffle in his seat. He planted one last kiss to my lips and then he left the car. I sat, waiting to feel his next move. The door opened and his hands grabbed mine.

“Alright, Mama. Ready?” He asked. I nodded toward the sound of his voice.

“Very.” I answered simply, letting him guide me out of the car. I stood in front of him and his chest pressed against my back.

“Okay, walk on, Baby. I got you.” Elvis said, resting his chin on my right shoulder. His hands wrapped around my waist and only then did I feel confident in taking steps. My own hands shot out in front of me instinctively and Elvis laughed. “I said I got you, Honey. Don’t worry.” I laughed along with him.

“I’m sorry. I know you do. It just feels weird.” I admitted, continuing my dangerous trek forward. He chuckled.

“I know. Don’t be sorry.” He told me, his grip on my waist tightening. “Watch your step here.” I tapped my foot in front of me, stopping when I felt a large rock. I moved, flowing with the way Elvis’ hands tugged on my body. We walked a ways more, him, guiding me and I, walking blindly. Then we stopped and he pulled me back into him, reattaching his lips to my neck.

“Stand right here a minute.” He whispered, pecking my cheek and then disappearing, taking his warmth with him. I stood there, feeling exposed yet safe, knowing Elvis wasn’t far from me. Without my sight, my hearing was heightened. So I just listened to everything around me, trying to get a clue as to where he had taken me. I heard water, distant motors of some kind and lots of gentle wind. I smiled, taking it all in and just feeling peaceful. Then I felt Elvis’ hands brushing down the length of my arms.

“Remember how I said I wanted to do something different with you?” He asked, kissing my lips lightly.

“I do, yes.” I replied, stepping forward a bit to be closer to him. His arms enveloped me and I returned the motion, holding him tightly.

“Well,” a kiss to the top of my head. “I think this might just do the trick.” Elvis moved to stand behind me and I felt the cloth around my eyes loosening. I closed my eyes in anticipation, waiting to open them until the ascot was fully off. I felt it drop, but didn’t know whether or not he wanted me to see just yet.

“What d’you think, Baby?” He asked, his fingers brushing my upper arms lovingly.

“Oh, can I open my eyes?” I asked playfully, cocking my head to face him. Elvis laughed that melodious laugh and wrapped his arms around me.

“Yes, Mama. I encourage it.” He told me. So I opened my eyes and saw a beautiful little boat, floating readily on the lake’s shoreline. What caught my attention, was the red lettering reading out ‘Gladys’. I couldn’t help the smile that grew on my face. As I looked closer, I noticed a little table, draped with a red table cloth and a bucket that held a bottle of champagne.

“Oh Elvis.” I said breathily, reaching up and laying my hand on the back of his neck.

“Now it’s just a runabout. It ain’t no fancy yacht.” He said, his southern drawl coming out more as he spoke.

“Baby, I don’t need a fancy yacht. You could’ve showed me a canoe and I’d have been happy.” I told him honestly, turning in his arms and holding either side of his face. His gaze met mine and he smiled, looking completely at ease with my words. I stood on my toes, pressing my lips to his, pouring as much love and genuineness into it as I could. His hands snaked along my lower back, keeping me grounded. We pulled apart, and he planted one last kiss to the corner of my mouth before taking my hand in his.

“Ready, Baby?” He asked, walking toward the boat.

“Absolutely!” I replied excitedly, kicking off my shoes and bending down to grab them. I heard him chuckle behind me as I walked up to the boat. My eyes danced across the vessel and I traced my fingers along the lettering of its name.

“It really is beautiful, EP.” I told him. I felt his eyes on me, so I looked over, seeing him standing at the hull, right hand on the boat and the left on his hip. I smirked, noting the mischievous look on his face. “What?”

“Nothing.” He said simply. Then he took a step forward. “Boat’s fine, Mama, but you? You’re the kind of beautiful that makes my heart forget how to beat.” My stomach tied itself into knots at his words. We had been courting for over two years and he still had his way of making me nervous.

“Oh, stop it.” I teased, the heat growing on my cheeks becoming unbearable. He chuckled softly and kissed my cheek.

“Well it’s true!” He argued, taking my hand while I stepped into the boat. Then he held my hand to his chest. “I mean, d’you feel it?” I smiled down at him, feeling his heartbeat. It was faster than usual, but no more irregular than the next person.

“I do, Honey.” I said with playful worry. “Maybe you should see a doctor.”

“Maybe you’re right.” He said, hoisting himself up and into the boat. I sat down on one of the chairs and Elvis was quick to follow my movement, only he leaned over to lay his head in my lap. “What d’you think, Doc?” He asked, keeping up with the bit. I giggled and put my hand back over his heart. Then I shook my head.

“It’s not looking too good.” I said, furrowing my brows in sadness.

“No?” He asked, putting his hand on top of mine.

“I’m afraid you’re going to need to get a kiss after every meal.” I told him, doing my best to hide the growing smile on my lips. Elvis shot up excitedly.

“Could I get some in between too?” He asked, holding my hands in his. I gasped dramatically.

“No sir! That might just make it worse!” I said, stifling a laugh. Elvis tugged me down, sitting me on his lap and holding my hips.

“Ah, I never listened to my doctor anyway.” He said, ending the bit with multiple kisses to my lips. We were smiling like idiots, laughing through every peck.

“I love you.” Elvis said, holding me against him. His gaze was unyielding, making my breath hitch.

“And I love you.” I said, touching my nose to his. Those half lidded eyes of his crinkled with his smile as he leaned in for one more kiss.

“Ready to set sail, m’lady?” He asked. I sat up straight and put my hand to my forehead in a salute.

“Aye aye, Captain.” I replied, climbing off of his lap to that he could get us out on the water. I sat quietly, watching him mess with the ropes and the little anchor that sat only a few feet below the water. Once we were off the little strip of land, he moved to the driver’s seat, starting up the motor and driving us out into the middle of nowhere.

— time skip —

The sun had now fully set. The sounds of other boats had now completely ceased. It was just Elvis, the stars and I. The boat was lit in a warm glow of the little camping lantern Elvis had brought from Graceland. I watched as he fiddled with a knot that had formed in the anchor’s rope. Champagne glass in hand, I took another sip, taking my windswept hair down from the ponytail it had been in. My skin was hot from the last rays of the day’s sun. Everything felt right.

Elvis’ brow was furrowed as he pulled and picked at the rope. His light blue button down fully unbuttoned, exposing his tanned and toned chest. His forehead glistened with sweat and his hair had no choice but to cling to it. If I had a canvas and some paints, I’d be painting one hell of a picture.

“Got it.” Elvis said, breaking the comfortable silence we’d been enduring. He huffed as he stood from the back corner of the boat, leaning over the side and carefully lowering the metal into the water.

“Good job, Baby.” I said, finishing the last of my champagne and leaning over to put the glass in one of the boat’s cupholders. He bowed a little, tossing his head back to rid his hair from his eyes. I smiled up at him and he leaned down, pecking my lips before moving the little folding table out of the way.

“Wanna see somethin’ cool?” He asked, tossing the table cloth over the back of the other chair.

“Always.” I said, standing from my place and leaning into his side. He wrapped his arm around me and lowered the lamp light until it went out with his free hand. Once it was fully dark, all the stars in the sky came into view. I blinked a few times, hoping my eyes would adjust faster. The sky was glazed in black and all sorts of blues, sprinkled with millions of white stars.

“How come it doesn’t look like this at home?” I asked, walking over to the back of the boat.

“Too much light around.” He told me. I hummed in response, craning my neck, like I was afraid I might miss a falling star.

“C’mere, Honey.” I felt his hand engulf mine, and he pulled me to the ground. “Lay down. Don’t want you hurtin’ your neck.” I had found we were both speaking softly, like we were going to disturb the emptiness around us. I laid back, my eyes bouncing around as I pretended to count each star in the sky. Elvis and I stayed like this, hand in hand, whispering sweet nothings every once in a while, enjoying each other’s company.

“It’s beautiful.” I said softly.

“It sure is.” He replied. Though I could feel his gaze fixed on me. I turned to look over at him, forcing my eyes to adjust in the darkness.

“I meant the sky, smart guy.” I teased, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. Though I couldn’t fully see his eyes, the shadows suggested they were dancing back and forth between my own. He lifted my hand from its place on the floor of the boat and tugged on it gently.

“Come over here and be my sky. Your eyes already hold the stars.” His tone was so gentle. Almost nervous. Like I wasn’t going to bend to his every wish. His word made me melt. I sat up and moved to straddle his waist, pressing my palms to the floor on either side of his head. His hands held my waist and I heard him chuckle.

“Perfect.” He muttered. I leaned down and he met me half way, our lips connecting in another tender and loving kiss.

There have been moments in our relationship that were scary. When he goes away, I worry. But he comes back every time. Exactly when he promised he would be. I didn’t care that he was Elvis Presley. But I cared about my Elvis Presley. The one that gets up on that stage. But also the one who always puts flour on my nose when I make us dinner. The one that sings his heart out for every crowd. But also the one who is always excited to sing me to sleep. My Elvis. The Elvis Presley. All of him. I couldn’t be happier. I love him and he loves me.