#gun military truck

[minecraftfan11onscratch]

@sonictober's Sonictober 2024

Day 8: Truck

🎶 Trust me and we will escape from the - GIANT INCOMING TRUCK -

(Vehicles are NOT my forte as an artist)

[awesome-casuallyfamouscollector]

Russian Ural-4320 military truck and T-12 anti-tank gun was destroyed in Glotovo, Belgorod region, Russia, 2023. Source:  Ukraine Weapons Tracker 

P.S. Do you remember how proud and self-confident the Russian orcs started the war on February 24, 2022: Capturing Kyiv in three days and then marching to Berlin, but now look at the burned-out Russian cannons and military trucks littering the roadsides of Russia itself...Nice! It's true that this outdated Russian junk doesn't cost much...,and orcs are cheap as well...

[lightdancer1]

Colonel Gaddafi stands as one of the few people in military history to be on the receiving side of an innovation that ultimately deeply and irreparably embarrassed him:

The Battle of Fada, the culminating point of the Toyota War, is one of the forgotten decisive battles of recent history. It ended for the remainder of the Gaddafi era Libyan efforts to expand into Chad, it profoundly discredit Gaddafi when instead of sponsoring the PLO he had to fight a real war and proved very bad at it. The irony that the same man who set in motion everything leading up to the battle and then went on to lose it has been written as believing the exact opposite of what he actually did should not be lost on anyone.

[shotmrmiller]

tw: mentions of roofies, murder, then smut:)

cbf!simon would absolutely kill for you.

cbf!simon has always been your partner in crime.

even in your youth, back when he was built like a daffodil, he was always by your side. kept you safe from the mean girls at school, always got in trouble for throwing hands at boys who made crass comments at you and the like. then he'd left his butcher job to join the military. "I gotta learn how to keep you safe, love. i'll always come back to ya."

and he had. he returned to you almost four times his size; he left a boy and came back a man. down to your very bones, you knew that he would always keep you safe.

which is why he was the first person you called when the guy next to you at the bar roofied your drink. the beer fizzed irregularly and had an almost milky colour even though it was an ipa.

the idiot had dared to smile at you, an oily, crooked grin with yellow teeth, and lifted his own glass to toast with you.

you bolted out of your seat in seconds, heading straight to the ladies' room, and dialed.

he answered on the second ring.

"please come get me." you hadn't meant to sound as terrified as you felt.

"be there in 5," then hung up.

he lived 15 minutes away from the dingy bar.

true to his word, he was there in 5, texting where you were at.

inside the ladies bathroom.

he let himself in, put his jacket around your quivering shoulders, and with a strong, comforting arm, guided you toward the exit and into his truck. simon remained silent as he sat you in the passenger seat, gently pulling the seatbelt over your chest, clicking it into place.

he stood next to you, his hands resting on your jean-clad thighs, waiting patiently for you to explain.

your teeth sink into your bottom lip as you sort out your thoughts. you no longer felt afraid, that much was certain. simon has always been your pillar of strength. there was nothing to fear with him at your side.

so why do your hands continue to tremble? digging deeper, you realize that you're angry. no.

furious.

some imbecile thought he'd take advantage of you. if you'd been any more drunk, you would have been a victim— wound up lifeless in a dirty ditch.

you burned with fury, your blood boiling under your skin. how dare he? how dare he?

simon softly touches your tightly clenched hands, coaxing your fingers to unfurl.

everything pulls hard to port when your eyes land on his disfigured knuckles— scarred by battle. you've never liked what simon did for a living. he just fought and killed people that some higher-up told him were the bad guys.

in war, there is no good or bad side. the field is too soaked in blood for anyone to recognize where the line is if there even was one to begin with.

until now. just this once, you couldn't be more grateful that simon possesses the skills he does.

you make your decision. "there was a guy in there. green hat, ugly brown jacket with yellow, crooked teeth. he drugged my beer, then toasted me so i would drink it."

his hands tighten around yours marginally. "and now i'm here, safe, with you. but he's still in there, with potentially a pocket full of pills, on the lookout for his next victim. how am i supposed to sleep tonight, knowing that if someone goes missing tonight, the blood will be on my hands?"

you cut your eyes to his dark, hardened ones, and the words tumble out of your mouth with surprising ease.

"there's trash in there that needs throwing out, simon."

nothing but a wretched mongrel that needs to be put down.

simon's nod is subtle, but it's there. you exhale a shuddering breath, heart slamming against your ribcage.

he's a gun in your hand, and you've just pulled the trigger.

simon hands you the keys to the truck. "are you sober enough to drive home?" he quietly asks.

hard to keep a buzz when you almost became a victim of—

"yes."

he's opening the glove compartment, taking out his skeleton gloves, and a tac knife that he tucks inside the waistband of his jeans.

"go home. i'll see ya in a bit." his voice is flat, lifeless.

simon closes the door and raps his knuckles on the hood of the truck before heading inside.

and so the elephant marches to war.

-

it's well past midnight when he crawls in through your window. one moment his boots are on the windowsill, the next he's pinning you onto your mattress, hips flush against yours.

his chilly, clean hands lift the hem of your loose shirt, dimpling the soft skin that his fingers dig into— his bare lips grazing the shell of your ear.

"he is no longer a problem."

he grinds his clothed erection against the flimsy fabric of your sleeping shorts.

"you did the right thing by telling me what he did."

simon trails a path of open-mouthed kisses from your ear down to your mouth, licking your bottom lip.

"nothing gets me harder than when my girl looks at me to keep her safe."

your breath hitches when a hand begins to move south, lifting the waistband of your bottoms and sliding his fingers over your slick pussy. "it seems you like it too. does it turn you on, ordering me around like a dog? i bark at your command, pet."

one finger sinks into your wet heat, his groan drowning out your own.

"you like having this much power over me? how easily i bend to your will?" he croons.

there are two fingers in you now, so much thicker than your own, and the way they curl and drag along your nerves has your toes tingling. he takes you to the precipice at frightening speed— the expert hands that kill without remorse are the same ones that are bringing you your pleasure.

he thrusts his fingers into you with an obscene squelch and a thumb circles your slippery clit.

"i'd burn the world to ashes if you asked it of me."

the coil in your stomach is tight, your body tense in anticipation.

"so... would you? would you ask me to bring the world to its very knees?"

the answer sits on the tip of your tongue when you climax around his fingers, walls pulsing rhythmically, arousal dripping from his knuckles.

later will be a good time to reflect on how you don't feel even remotely guilty for what's been done.

for now, you focus on how good simon feels as he slowly sinks into you, splitting you wide open with his heavy cock.

-

simon finds no pills in the guy's pockets. no baggie, no bottle.

nothing.

shame that his little love has declared the guy's life forfeit.

your wish is his command.

[feralgoblinqueen]

I’m not the first to write something like this but here’s my spin on shifter!141.

*****

They had spent too long in their bestial forms. Time feels different when the wolf takes over, easier to lose track of and even harder to remember their human lives. By the time one of them remembers the house in the woods and its many acres that still needs a final payment under a fake name it’s too late.

They look on from the tree line, taking note of the changes made by the new owner. A budding flower garden in front of the house, well kept and just starting to show its spring colors. Around back a large vegetable patch was still green, nothing yet ready to harvest. The exterior had a fresh coat of paint and small repairs had been made. A single faded blue truck rumbled up the long and winding driveway. That’s when they first laid eyes upon you.

—————

“Abandoned, Selling As Is” was what the advertisement had read. No one else had wanted the plot of land hours away from civilization. For you, though, it was perfect. Somewhere to start over, to be alone and relearn who you are.

The rooms still held the previous owner’s belongings. Everything had been left untouched as if they just vanished one day. All men, you assumed, just from the sparse decor and the clothes left behind. Military, maybe, from how the beds were made with their sheets tucked into hospital corners. Paranoid loners, possibly even doomsday preppers, was another guess you made after discovering a gun safe hidden behind a false wall under the stairs.

It was almost a game, once a day trying a hand full of combinations to see if any worked. Something mindless to fill an unoccupied moment of time. That’s when you really started going through the papers and books left behind. Looking for any clues at what the code might be. A notepad left on the small hallway table is where you scribbled down all the combinations that hadn’t worked, in a meager attempt to not repeat yourself. A small mystery to add a little life to your loneliness.

At night is when things really come to life this far out into the wilderness. In the early days of owning the property, before you were able to get the satellite internet set up, you’d spend the evenings watching and listening on the back porch. Deer were the most common, using the wide open expanse of a backyard as a place to graze in the evenings. Owls silently swooping down on field mice before retreating to the trees once more. Coyotes, crickets, and night birds made a symphony of nature most nights.

The most exciting were the wolves. You could always hear them howling in the distance, calling to one another. They weren’t like the coyotes that cackled over one another in attempt to sound larger or more numerous than they actually were. These were direct calls and responses. Their vocalizations sounding almost melancholy, as if they were yearning for something that seemed just out of reach.

It was a quiet night when you finally decided to respond to their calls. The evening had been spent making supply lists for your trek into the nearest town in the morning. A large cooler had been thrown into the bed of your truck to store items intended for the refrigerator and deep freezer.

You sat on the tailgate, listening to the night song that seemed to encapsulate the peaceful valley you now owned. A celebratory drink held in one hand and a small, proud smile graces your lips. Your house was starting to feel like a real home and that was definitely worth celebrating.

The wolves that you had grown fond of, yet had never seen, were starting up. Your favorite night song. A melody that you could listen to for hours. One you had listened to for hours.

Four. You could make out four distinct calls at this point. Two were more vocal than others, their tones more playful. One was definitely the pack leader. His call the first and last each night, like a command or an order. And one was rarely heard, usually only short responses and never as loud as the others. But the valley always carried their calls to you, teaching you their voices. They were faceless friends in your solitude.

So you call out into the night. The long howl a poor imitation of theirs, straining your vocal cords.

The night grows still. All goes quiet. As the silence passes for a beat, then another, your smile slowly falters and fades. A pang of disappointment and a small bubble of guilt at interrupting their conversation.

All animals, even fierce predators, could be skittish. You worried that your call had scared them off, ruining your chances of ever spotting them. With a hop you jump off the tailgate, slamming it shut in frustration. Heavy feet stomping all the way onto the porch and inside. You could only hope they hadn’t heard your foolishness and that something else has quieted them.

The night remains silent as you crawl into bed. The night song ending early and sewing sadness into your dreams.

But they had heard you.

Your distinctly human howling calling to a dormant part of their minds. They remembered themselves. They remembered their life in the valley. They remembered the house where their human lives were lived.

And they were coming home.

[eve-was-framed]

the amount of mass killings committed by us military veterans with a history of domestic violence should be a huge red flag but still the government and pretty much every news outlet seems to gloss over those factors completely every time this happens. data shows that at a disproportionate number of mass killers served in the military.

the most recent New Orleans mass killer was motivated by religious extremism, but also served in the military and planned on murdering his entire family but instead decided to drive his truck into a crowd of people.

the maine bowling alley shooter was a veteran with a history of domestic violence and chose that location because his ex liked to hang out there. before the shooting law enforcement and the military was warned by multiple people multiple times that he was planning to do something like this and they did nothing. 18 killed.

the sutherland springs shooter was a veteran with a well documented history of domestic violence and spent only 12 months in prison for attacking his wife and son and pointing a loaded gun at them, and was constantly threatening to murder them. he was later investigated for rape, had a history of animal abuse and bragged about adopting pets so he could use them as target practice, posted online that he was going to do a shooting, and he chose that location because that was his ex’s church. he ended up murdering 26 people including his ex’s grandma.

there are more examples too, but my point is that it seems extremely obvious that domestic violence offenses aren’t taken nearly as seriously as they should be. and it also seems obvious that the complete and total lack of any accountability for military members who commit crimes against both civilians and other members (look at the rape statistics) ends up attracting young men who have a desire to commit violence and they come out of it even more mentally unstable and dangerous.

[mushies-stories]

One thing led to another and now I'm a wife to four military men? 18+

141 X F!READER

CH. One: A mission not gone as planned

Chapter one Summary: You were a hired guard to travel with a cargo container. You were not told what was in it or who you were guarding it from, and in the end your team was under prepared and your truck was overrun by a task force. After a misfire the container was shot and mist covered you and a soldier you had been tackled by. The soldier dragged you along with him when everyone began to scatter.

A little about the Reader: Reader is shorter than the guys and has some length of hair, but mostly the physical description is up to yall readers to imagine. Personality isn't anything too extreme one way or the other, but she has an interest in art, and crafting. Creating in general. reader is infertile, because I said so. It's not a big plot point, reader doesn't care. ALSO because I want this to be longer than I've written before, the guys are ‘straight’ for all intensive purposes. I love reading true poly 141 but ima keep it chill, for my own sanity. 

Warnings: SMUT 18+, unprotected sex, creampie, poisoned by aphrodisiac, swearing, talk of infertility. Bad accents… also lack of, sorry XD but any pointers on how our boys should sound would be very welcomed! Homies help homies, right?

Word count: 6473

The beginning.

“S’fuckin hot!” The man, your enemy grunts as he pulls his gear off along with his jacket. His mohawk is a mess and his forehead is sticky with sweat. The room you were in was void of everything but the rusted metal chair that Soap took and an old desk that he pushed against the door. You sat on the floor and against the wall across from him.

You roll your eyes. “It's because of you we’re even in this mess.” you weren't doing much better than him. You were both affected by the unknown toxin and he had only managed to make it to a dingy basement with you before it all became too much to keep walking. His team was waiting for the all clear and location from him before moving in.

“Me? If ya had just surrendered then i wouldn't have’ta tackle yer ass.” he scoffs back. “By the way, yer a terrible fighter.” Soap adds. Petty you think. 

You take off your vest and jacket with a huff, the heat getting to be too much. The wall felt cool against your back as you leaned on it and you savored the feeling. “Because I'm not even a real soldier, I've had very minimal training in combat.” you admit. Soap looks at you a little confused. You roll your eyes. “I was hired to watch the cargo mostly, I'm not half bad with guns. I work for an outside source. Meaning I'm basically of no use to you, I have no information, and can we just not talk?” you add with a bit of a cheeky smile. The best one you could muster up under your conditions. 

You settle into a mildly uncomfortable silence. Your body is too hot for the wall to have helped for long. You close your eyes and lean your head back, willing whatever was taking effect to pass.

“Did ya even know what was in that cargo?” His voice disrupts what little peace you were managing to get. 

You shake your head. “Nope.”

“Amazing.”

You open your eyes to look at him. “What?”

“Yer a little dumb aren't ya?” He snorts. 

Your eyes narrow a little in irritation. “What's that supposed to mean?” 

Soap pulls his shirt over his head and tosses it to the side. “Ya take a dangerous job from people ya barely know anything about while barely knowing how to take care of yerself? Sounds pretty dumb to me.”

You weren't sure why but your body seemed to react to seeing him so bare. Your own body still felt impossibly warm and your pussy fluttered at the sight of him. You let out a soft huff and try to clear your head, whatever toxin you both inhaled must have been potent. “I've done just fine, I'm good with a gun.” you tell him, trying to defend yourself. 

Again he snorts a laugh. “That so? Because from where I'm sitting ye dont look like yer in the best position to be talking.” he points out. He was right, you were now unarmed and your body and mind were both being affected by some sort of toxin. “Besided, I don't know about ye lass, but i'm startin to think whatever we took in was an aphrodisiac.” he says. 

You look at him, eyes widening. “How do you assume that?”

Soap leans back in the chair, legs spreading out a bit and looking at you through half lidded eyes. “Because the only thought running through my head is ya being stuffed full o’my cock.” He says bluntly. 

A look of shock spreads across your face, your body however has a different reaction. You could feel how damp your panties were starting to get. “I think that's just your problem.” you try and lie, try to ignore the truth of the situation and the way his gaze was making you feel. Even mostly clothed you felt exposed to him as his eyes wandered around your body. 

He raises one brow and a smirk plays at the corner of his lip. “Tha’so bonnie? Body isn't hot, ya aren't feeling yer pussy getting all wet and needy?” He wasn't just teasing you, he was taunting you. 

As hard as you try, his words still have an effect on you. He was right, your mind is being flooded with thoughts of him. You couldn't just give in to those thoughts though, right? You don't respond in words, instead you shake your head and avoid looking anywhere but his body. Not like his face was any better to look at. He was good looking and had the most entrancing blue eyes. A chill runs up your spine and the dampness between your legs grows. 

This isn't helping. 

Now he was smirking. “Sorry lass but m’not sure I believe tha,” he chuckles. “Bet yer pretty pussy is aching just as badly as my cock.” Your eyes flicker to his crotch where there was indeed a bulge. Your mouth practically started watering at the sight, mind flooded at the thought of how stuffed you'd be. “See, eyein it up.” your eyes snap back to his, embarrassed of your own actions. “Wishin it was fuckin yer little pussy bonnie? All ya gotta do is ask.” he asks, voice huskier than before. One of his large hands came down to press and message at his cock, his eyes never leaving yours. Soap needed you, but he needed you to need it just as bad. He might be a killer, a soldier, but he had respect for women and this toxin was not working with his morals. 

You clamp your legs together as you take in the whole sight of him. You could barely handle the growing ache in your core anymore, ignoring it was becoming impossible and he knew what he was doing to you. He could see it in your face and your body as you begin to rub your thighs together. “I can't do that…” you try to explain but a heat wave crashed into you and your breathing began to pick up a bit more.

“C’mon lass, ya know I can help. Let me make yer pussy feel better, I'll take care of ya.” he tries to reassure you he means it, he doesn't want to hurt you, but he knows you both need this. You can't help feeling uncertain and it shows. He lets out a soft sigh, he doesn't blame you, he was probably intimidating no matter how much you pretend to be as tough as you act. “Soap, can call me soap, I'll make sure no matter what yer taken care of, alright?” He says with a softer smile, a reassuring smile. 

You nod slowly, accepting his obvious call sign. “Y/N.” you tell him, figuring using anything but your real name was pointless. 

“Nice to meet you, Y/N.” Soap says, smile widening ever so slightly. He liked the sound of your name on his tongue. Lazily he undid his pants and slid his hand under the fabric, watching you as you thought about what he said. He groans softly when he starts to slowly pump his cock, his eyes fluttering a little as they stay focused on you. You can't help but watch his movements, his pants even loose seemed to be straining his cock. He must be big and you assumed pretty thick, if it's anything like the rest of him that is. “Are you sure?” you ask.

He nods and huffs softly. “If wha ya say is true, ya were just fer hire yeah.” 

The feeling between your legs was quickly becoming unbearable and you couldn't think of anything else to do about it. Slowly you stood on shaky legs, using the wall as balance before taking the few steps across the room to Soap. He pulls his cock out and adjusts his pants so you have a good view of everything. He was big and thick, a few thick veins trailed up the bottom and sides and it was leaking precum already.

“Alright lass, take off those bottoms.” He instructed. Your eyes trailed up his body and back to his face. You didn't sleep around, and the times you have it was never any good, or special. Your brain was still trying to fight your body's urges. Soap could see the conflict on your face. He reaches a hand out and pulls you closer by the hips. You let out a startled gasp and reached out to hold onto his shoulders. “There we go, I got ya.” Soap says. His fingers do quick work with your buckles and buttons and you are free of the damp fabric. 

He glanced up at you when he noticed your underwear. Definitely not military approved lace. You roll your eyes and yank them down yourself. “Shut up, it's not like anyone normally would know.” you say as Soap guides you onto his lap with his hands on your waist. You're placed right on his cock and the feeling of your dripping pussy makes you both shutter a little at the contact.

Again he chuckles. “Guess it's my lucky day.” he teases. He's a little goofy you realize. It helps make you feel a little less nervous, that maybe under normal circumstances this wouldn't be so bad. You don't even realize it when your hips start to shift and grind down against his length. Your mind seemed to have fogged over momentarily, the feeling of his warm cock being the only thing you can think of. “Feeling good dove?” 

you're brought back to reality and halt your movements. If you weren't already so warm you knew your face would be shining bright red right now. That new nickname didn't sound too bad coming from him either you think. “Ye-yeah, I mean… i did-”

“Shh, it's okay.” His smile is kind when he looks at you, but the look in his eyes shows you that lust has taken over. “I'm gonna lift ya and I want’ya to guide me in, can ya do that lass?” he asks. 

“Mhm.” you hum with a nod. With one hand placed on his shoulders for support he wrapped his hands under your thighs and lifted you up. You reach a hand down and slide your fingers down his length and it makes your pussy flutter. 

“Ready?” He asks. You give him a nod in response and line him up with your dripping cunt. “Good girl.” he praised. 

He took a lot of care in how he held you and once the tip of his cock was pressing against your entrance he was gentle when pushing in. As much as he wanted to pull you down and have you take his whole length right then, he wouldn’t. 

You couldn't hold in your gasps and breathy moans. He was making you feel so good so easily, you wanted him to fill you up, wanted him to keep stretching your pussy on his thick cock.

The sounds you were making as he filled you up inch by inch were like music to his ears and encouraged him to keep going until you were finally at the base of his cock. “There we are Dove, properly stuffed with my cock.” he says, looking down between your bodies and admiring your pussy. His eyes stayed trained on your slick core as he pulled you up a little, cock twitching at the sight of sliding in and out of you. “Tight little pussy, gripping my cock so perfectly.” He groans as he sets a slow pace, rocking you on his cock while you hold onto his shoulders and try to stay focused. 

You almost felt like a toy as he effortlessly benched your body. You didnt mind that much, the need to be filled and fucked heavily on your mind. It wasn't long before you were craving more, needing him to go faster, make you really feel him. Your eyes flutter when you look into his. “M-more, please.” you managed to get out.

Soap shuddered at your words, the way you looked at him with such pleading eyes. “Fuck Bonnie.” he groans. His grip on you tightened before he started to move you faster. You hold onto him just as tight, nails slowly digging more and more into his skin the better it starts to feel. 

You held your voice as much as you could in case someone was still in the area. While soap would have preferred to be able to hear every sound you could make, he knew better as well and settled on what he was able to get. Soaking in your breathy moans and sharp gasps, the feeling of your breath creeping closer to his neck. You had to wrap your arms around his neck the harder you were slammed down on his cock. You could feel the knot in your stomach getting closer to snapping with every thrust. You found it hard to keep your voice quiet so you pressed yourself into soap, moaning into his neck and clinging to him. 

Your actions cause Soap to smirk a little. His cock was throbbing and precum mixing with your own juices, all of it making him feel just as close to his own release. “Gunna cum for me bonnie?” his voice was deeper, close to your ear and it made you shiver. You shake your head and a whiny moan escapes you. Soap responds with a low moan of his own. “C’mon then, make a mess dove.” he encourages. 

His words and a few more thrusts were all it took for you to come undone. Your pussy squeezed his cock as you covered his cock in your slick. You did all you could to hold back your sounds, using the crook of his neck and shoulder to mask most of it. All of it hitting Soap's ears and pushing him closer and closer to the edge. Your pussy taking his cock so well and your pretty little sounds were perfect to him. “Need to cum Dove.” he warns you and slows down his pace, letting you ride out the last of your high. He can't help the desperate moan when your pussy flutters at his words. 

Your thoughts are instantly filled with thoughts of his cum filling you up, how good it would feel. They fuel a new desire and another ache in your pussy. “Cum, like this.” you say softly, just loud enough for him to hear. 

His cock twitched. “Ya want tha bonnie, want me to fill ya up?” he groans, picking his pace back up. 

“Need it, n-need you please.” you whine. Your pussy was dripping, making a mess of his lap and pants and you didn't want to waste time explaining that it doesn't matter, you wont get pregnant. You were close to the edge again, pussy fluttering around his thick cock and you needed to feel him cum. “Please cum, need to feel you cum.” you babble.

Soap was focused now, focused on feeling every inch of you. Marveling at how it feels having you take all of him. “Fuckin perfect pussy, gunna be good and take my cum?” Your response was a needy mewl and your nails digging into his back, sure to leave marks. Soap reacted by slamming you down on his cock as he came. His hands moved to your hips to hold you there while he grinds up into you. 

Your legs shake and your pussy flutters, Soap fills your senses, his low groans and his cum filling your pussy. Tears prick the corners of your eyes as you cum again. You're both lost in a haze of pure pleasure, you rock your hips in time with his now slow and gentle thrusts. Slowly you caught your breaths. You figured that was it, his cock wasn't as hard anymore but there was still something, you could still feel a dull ache. One that only grew when you focused on the way his cum was leaking out. When he was about to lift you to pull out you couldn't hold back a displeased whine.

Soap chuckled softly and settled you back down. “Like my cock tha much bonnie?” he asks, a small smirk playing at the corner of his lips. You pull back and look at him with half lidded eyes. Slowly you rolled your hips, gasping a little when you felt his cock twitch. “Fuck, this is some poison.” his cock was already getting hard again, filling you up and fogging his brain all over again. He hooks his hands under your things again and stands, lifting you while keeping his cock snug in your pussy. He brings you to the desk and lays you right on top, leaning over you to get a view of your face. “This time I want to see this pretty face when ya cum dove.” he tells you before sliding almost all the way out just to slam back into you. You have to throw your hands over your mouth to suppress the yelp you let out. 

With his hands holding your hips in a firm grip he doesn't waste time being so gentle this go around.

*******************************************************

You weren't sure how long the poison lasted, or how many rounds you went by the end. Hell you don't even remember the end, it all became a blur and at some point you had passed out. True to his word, Soap did make sure to take care of you. At least in the sense that you had woken up in a decent looking hospital bed dawning a hospital gown and not in an interrogation room. Your body was still sore a day and a half later but it's nothing you couldn't handle. Having become dehydrated in your previous state, you were hooked up to a drip bag. 

“Looks like ya weren't lyin lass.” Soap familiar voice causes you to snap your head to the doorway, you were lost in thought, trying to piece the events after you blacked out together. He was already back in uniform and roaming around and here you were still stuck in a hospital bed rehydrating. Soap closed the door behind him and stepped into the room. He grabs the empty office chair and and sets it next to the side of your bed and sits down

“Told you, there was no reason for me to.” you state, pulling the blanket up a little more over your lap.

“That ya did lass, never doubted ya either.” He says with a stupid grin. “Love the dress by the way.” He teases with a nod to your attire.

You roll your eyes and ignore the sudden reaction of butterflies. “So what now, what's going to happen to me?” you ask simply.

He eyes you for a moment and you try to stay as confident as you could. “Tell me, what is it ya want, lass?” he asks. You look at him with a raised brow, confused. “Yer job, is this what ya want’ta be doing?” he asks, tone becoming more serious. 

You blink a few times, thinking about what he's asking. What benefit knowing the answer would be to him. You shake your head slowly. “No, not really. Just kind of got stuck in it.” You admit. It was true, you never cared for the job, just the money you got from it. “Why?” you ask.

You don't know why you were feeling so anxious, but him being this close again made your skin warm a little. “Why do ya keep at this job then?” Another question. 

You tilt your head a little, trying to figure him out. “Money, it pays… well.” you tell him. “What's the point of these questions?” you were starting to get a little irritated. 

He smiled then, the stern facade wiped away. “Well Bonnie, I was thinking maybe I could make ya an offer, if you’ll hear my proposal out.” He waits for you to object and when you don't he continues. “My mates and me, we've been looking for a lass, someone to be ours.” he begins and watches your features as he explains. “Think ye’r what we're lookin for Bonnie.” 

You couldn't believe what you were hearing. “What are you talking about? You want me to be a whore for you and your “mates”, that's it?” you were offended and it showed. 

Soap shook his head. “No, not at all. I mean…there's four of us, and it's difficult for us to maintain relationships because we go on long missions. But we thought, maybe if we find someone who would like’ta  be with all of us...” He tries to explain better, he was starting to become uncertain, a little shy even when he realized how it was starting to sound. “Really didn't mean any offense Bonnie, ya also happen to be aware of our jobs, and the struggles that come with it and that might be somewhat beneficial.” he adds, trying hard to save this conversation. He rubs the back of his neck nervously. “I know it was because of the poison, but I can't stop thinking about ya lass and I think the others would feel the same as me.” He confessed.

You feel your face heat up at his confession. You take a moment and process what he's saying. “I guess I understand, but how exactly would this all work? ” you ask.

He smiles a little, seeing that you aren't as angry now. “We have a nice home we all got about a year ago when we decided to do this. ya can do whatever ya want to it. We will take care of ya, whatever ya need, won't hav’ta worry about anything.” Soap smiles when you don't look totally disgusted at the idea. “Ye’ll be our girl.” He adds. He looked at you with hopeful eyes, like a puppy actually. 

You let out a soft sigh, relaxing a little. “Can I at least meet the others first, before deciding to sign my body over?” you ask, a little sarcastically.

Soap chuckles. “And yer heart Bonnie, don't forget that.” he jokes. You give him a small smile in return. Okay, he was maybe a little charming, in a dorky kind of way. “Sure ya can, I'm sure our captain will be by eventually anyways. Did make him a little curious when I wouldnt stop talkin’bout ya.” he admits sheepishly. 

You're sure after this whole conversation your face was a few shades redder than it normally was. “Of course you did.” you say, rolling your eyes again with a chuckle.

“Wait, not like that… well a little, hell Bonnie.” he chuckles nervously. “Just talk to Price, yeah, he’s our captain, hear him out and if yer still interested we can set up a little meet and greet.” 

You look at him, trying to look for any malicious intent but either he was a really good actor, or he meant it. “Alright.” you answer simply with a short nod.

He gives you a genuine smile. “That's it, I'll see you later then dove.” Setting the chair back in its rightful place he leaves, after one more look back with a goofy grin before shutting the door again. 

That brings a small smile to your face. He was nice you thought, maybe even a little funny. Were you really going to consider being, what, a girlfriend for hire for a group of military guys? You think back to your little accident with Soap. The thought makes you want to rub your thighs together. Though you were grateful he didn't bring it up just now, you dont think you're ready for that conversation just yet. But that was him, you didn't know who the other men where you would be with. The logistics of everything was confusing. 

Then there was the future, did they mean to keep you around forever, or would you be tossed out after a while? What kind of future were they looking for, maybe they wanted kids and to be like a normal family. That was something you couldn't give them, at least not naturally. You were told by three doctors a few years ago you were infertile, no fault of your own, just happens sometimes. You weren’t too upset at the news, adoption was always an option along with others, and if you didn't have any that was alright by you too. But did four men feel the same as you?

You let out a sigh and turn the tv on to find the least boring show you could and attempt to clear your mind. A rather hard task when memories from your time with Soap keep popping into your head. You think over the offer, you'd be lying if you said your interest was peaked. It's not like you really cared for your current job anyways, it was just a means to an end, but what was the end? Would they really take care of you? 

You shake your head, trying to clear your thoughts. After a while the tv manages to grab some of your attention.

A couple of hours go by and you've gotten the iv finally taken out and were given something to eat, though you only ended up eating the fruit cup. You were told to sit tight and someone would be in to discharge you. You settle in and let your mind relax a little, focusing on the tv drama you found that was already half way through the series. After a while your peace was disturbed by a knock on the door.

Starting to feel anxious again you let out a huff and prepare yourself, you didn't know if it was a doctor or Soaps captain. You mute the tv and face the door. “Come in.” 

The handle turners and you knew who he was the moment your eyes saw him step into the room. “Y/N? I'm Captain price.” He greets you with a smile and closes the door behind him. He was dressed similarly to Soap and he was older than you and Soap and definitely had the ‘aura’ of a Captain by just the way stood.

You nod in response and motion to the chair for him. “You can sit if you want.” you offer. You felt even more awkward being in a hospital gown now. You didn't know what to say, this kind of situation was never something you’ve had to deal with before. 

“Thank you.” he places the chair next to the bed and sits. “I assume you know what this is about?” he asks.

“Yes.” you answer simply, trying not to show how nervous you really are. 

“I can answer any other questions you have, if you'd like.” He begins. “I know what we are asking is not very conventional, and I would hate to put you in any uncomfortable situations.” He explains.

You take in what he says and gather your thoughts before responding. “Would… would we all like, share a bed or something? Also what about money, and a job? Do I have to find a new one? How is this all going to end? And wha…” you stop, realizing you were just blurting out every thought you were having. 

Before you could dive too far into self pity due to embarrassment, the Captain surprises you. He laughs, nothing too extreme but enough to have him tilting back a little in his chair. “That boy really didn't do a great job explaining, did he.” He says, more as a fact than a question. “First, you, like the rest of us, will have your own room. That doesn't mean you only have to sleep in your own bed, you are allowed to choose wherever that is.” he explains with a knowing look in his eye. Even with something implied what he said did help your nerves a little. “As for money, so long as you don't destroy our banks, you will be taken care of. Money to do with as you please and you can ask for anything. You can work if you want, though we would prefer it to be close to home, coming home to you is a big part of the deal. That seem okay to you?” He asks. 

Soap did say something along the lines of being taken care of. You wouldn't have to work, or you could. “How do you know I'm right for all of you? What if the others dont like me or we don't get along? I'm not that attractive, you don't know anything about me.”

The captain gives you a soft smile. “Well we don't expect you to be on board right away, it is a lot to ask someone to decide in one day. I was thinking you would come stay with us for a few days in the house, get to know everyone and all that. As for how you see yourself, I can promise you, my men will prove you wrong, if you let them.” he offers but notices the look of hesitance on your face. “You don't have to do anything you don't want to love. We understand what happened between you and Soap, it wasn't either of your choices. While it is what led us to you, it was not the only reason. Soap saw something in you and really pushed for this, can't be without good reason.” he tells you. “You have every right to say no whenever you want and we will respect that.

You nod along to his words. Becoming a little flustered at the mention of Soap and you. The thought of him talking about you like that made your heart skip a beat. Your mind flashes to who the other could be, were as nice as Soap and their Captain seem to be, would you get along with the others? “Could you tell me a little about the others maybe?” you ask, voice quieter now.  

“Of course.” John says. “Their names are Gaz and Ghost. Gaz is our pretty boy, as much as he pushes my buttons. He's a good lad, kind, caring, all of that. Ghost, well he seems big and scary, wears a mask more often than not but he's really not all that scary.” he spoke of the others fondly, warmth written on his face and you smile a little at his descriptions. 

However you can't help but notice you haven't been told any of their first names, it's all been what you assume is a call sign. “Am I ever going to know your names?” you ask, raising a brow.

He chuckles. “Of course love. Ghost will be back tomorrow and I thought we could do a proper introduction then? Ghost is a little more private about himself than the rest of us, but if you just give him a little time he will warm up to you.” he explains. You go to ask one another question but stop yourself, not sure how to bring it up. The Captain notices and gives you a soft smile. “What is it, love?” he asks.

You glance down at your hands a moment before facing him again. “Kids, I can't have them.” you tell him rather bluntly.

“Do you want kids?” he asks.

You shake your head. “I mean, I can't say one hundred percent no… but I'm not upset that I can't, I can always adopt ya know and… I mean.” you take a short breath and gather your thoughts. “If that was something you all needed, a child, with me, I can't do it.” You explain.

“It doesn't make a difference to us, love, we knew our family would already look different when we decided to do this.” you can't help but be a little shocked. “We are looking for a partner, and what you want or don't want matters.what we need is for you to be happy and healthy.” He leaned in a little and eyes never left yours as he spoke.“As for an end? I can't say what will happen in the future for certain, but our goal is forever if we can have it.” He speaks with a look of sincerity in his eyes. “So Dove, what do you say, come stay with us for a few days?”

Warm, your cheeks felt warm and your heart was beating faster. Something about him made you want to trust him, he spoke so gently to you, not something you expected from someone in his profession. You look at your hands as you think, fidgeting with the hem of the blanket. Soap was funny, and nice and you already knew what sex with him could be like, and if the others are as good as those two seemed to be, why not? You take a short breath and nod once. “Yeah… I think I'd like to give it a try.” you say, glancing at the man through your lashes. 

You could have sworn your heart skipped a million beats when a brighter smile spread across his face. “Glad to hear that love. I think you’ll like the place, and I'm sure with your touch added it will feel even more at home for all of us.” He says with a nod and stands. “Would you mind waiting here just a bit longer? I have some paperwork to finish up before we head home.” He explains. 

You give him a small smile. “Yeah that's okay, I've got my drama to finish anyway.” you joke, nodding to the muted tv that was still playing your show. 

He chuckles. “That's right, just a bit then.” 

With that he places the chair back and takes his leave. You unmute your show and try to focus back on the story, a task easier said than done however. Your nerves are all over the place and at the same time you are filled with anticipation. So many different thoughts coursed through your brain, making you question your decision. Could you be risking your life, or were these men actually normal, good people? If they are, will they really take care of you, would you get to live with all of them?

You replay your conversation over and over in your head and it comforts you a little. The Captain seemed so genuine and sincere when he spoke. Even Soap was basically a gentleman when he stopped by. You thought for a second about running out, hospital gown and all but quickly dismissed that idea. 

You close your eyes and take a deep breath and slow exhale. 

Your moment of clarity is interrupted by yet another knock on the door, this one just a little softer. 

“Come in” You call. 

One of your nurses, Jackie, you think, entered with a black paper bag. It almost looked like a gift. “This is for you, someone dropped it off, there's clothes in it.” She tells you while setting it on the bed beside you. “Guess you won't be needing to make a fashion statement with a pair of scrubs.” she smiles. “I also have some release forms for you to sign.” she adds, handing you the clipboard and a pen. 

You chuckle and smile back, taking the board from her. “As long as it's not this stupid gown, I'd take it.” you joke and scribble your signature where it was needed and handed it back.

She snorts a laugh and nods in agreement. “Very true, well you have a safe trip home, glad you're feeling better.” 

“Thanks, and thank you for bringing the clothes.” she smiles and nods before disappearing, closing the door behind her. 

You reach in the bag and find a plain black shirt, blue jeans and a black hoodie. Under those were a few pairs of socks and… you pause a moment before picking up the panties. Red lace. You roll your eyes while your cheeks turn a shade of pink. Soap was the one who went out and got you these clothes, and being a cheeky bastard about it too. 

You roll your eyes and grab a pair of socks. Once you got them on you slid off the bed and threw the rest of the clothes on, ready to not feel so naked around everyone. They fit well enough, the hoodie was a little big but comfortable. You sit in the chair to put your boots on, loosely lacing them. 

Your eyes snap to the door at another knock. “Bonnie, cn’i i come’n?” Soap calls from the hallway. 

“Yeah!” you shout. 

He smiles when he sees you finishing up your laces. “Hope the clothes are okay, I wasn't sure what yed like.” A small smirk appeared on his face, “well, mostly.” he teases.

You glance up at him with a raised brow. “Like a teenage boy.” you mumble, still loud enough for him to hear. “But yes they are, thank you. Definitely better than scrubs.” you say.

Soap feigned being hurt at your remark but ignores it. “Pretty bonnie like yerself would make anything look good, so ya have nothin to worry’bout.” 

You chuckle and shake your head. “If you say so.” you try not to let him see how his comment  has managed to fluster you. 

“I do.” He said proudly. Then his phone beeped. He fished it from his pocket and took a quick glance at it. “Looks like we're all really to go, ya got yerself all together, lass?” he asks. 

You stand with a shrug and look down at yourself. “Yeah, I didn't really have anything with me but my clothes.” you felt that same nervous feeling begin to bubble up again. This was it, you were going to try this with them. 

Soap crinkles his nose. “Both our clothes got thrown out, promise we didn want them back.” he informs you. 

You mirror his expression as you cross the room, stopping in front of him. “Yeah, probably right.” you agree. 

For a moment he looks you over. “Well, we’ll make sure to get you more clothes, take you shopping if you'd like, and whatever else you’ll want or need too. For now though, let's get you home so you can have a good night of sleep.” He smiles and opens the door for you. 

You looked from him to the door, that same nervous feeling began to bubble up again. This was it, you were going to try this with them. It took you a moment before your legs started moving, but a cloud of excitement grew and sat right beside the swarm of nerves as soon as you stepped into the hallway. 

You weren't going to turn back now, or at least not yet. You wanted to go with them, to follow Soap and see what this life could bring you.

****************************************************

🍄 Thank you for reading!

[kkusuka]

i'm back on my medic bullshit.

being hired to be the medic for an elite task force came with it's own insanity- which you prepared for.

you prepared for the amount of blood, Sergeant MacTavish and his tendency to get shot in the arm, then not heading your warning about overusing said arm, then blowing his stiches causing even more blood.

you prepared to be fought against, Captain Price and his need to be constantly working and on top of things, which he can't exactly do with a nasty concussion from being in a helicopter crash, but he only listens to you after getting flash banged by his own office lights.

you prepared to be listened to, Sergeant Garrick is like an angel in a sea of demons, it's not often, but when he does get injured he hangs off of every word you say to him. he comes in early for his check-ups, heads your warnings and even got you a little mug when you clear him for field activities.

you even prepared to get nothing, Lieutenant Riley doesn't get hurt, then when he does he just sits and listens to you rattle on about how to take care of his ankle, then he leaves with a nod of his head.

what you did not prepare for was walking in on poor Sergeant MacTavish- after a nasty fall out of a moving truck, then rolling into a ditch and diving right into a river- sat up, head thrown back, hand wrapped around his throbbing cock. he isn't nearly as shocked as you were, there was always a risk of someone walking in on you in the military and he had been practically shouting your name.

and Johnny was not the 141 member known for sweet-talking but he somehow convinces you that getting him off will not only make him feel better now, but it will also exponentially speed up his recovery! and so you end up on your knees, licking his cock up and down as his hand guides the back of your head.

and, to your dismay, he did make a speedy recovery, but gave your blowjob skills all of the credit. and he made sure everyone possible knew about your magical skills. (you were worried about getting fired for malpractice, the 141 was plotting who was gonna be next.)

now they didn't all suddenly throw themselves in the path of danger, no amount of horniness would make them risk their jobs, but no one can help not getting hurt every once in a while.

Sergeant Garrick getting his face thrown into a concrete wall and just needing you to sit on it to make him feel better. hands holding your hips to his face, tongue circling your clit as you try to hold onto the metal headboard of the infirmary room. and one time just isn't enough, most medicine takes a few doses before it can actually start working, so he needs you on your back, and bent over the bed, and sitting on the examination table; not to mention those weekly check-ins to make sure he's actually healing.

then Captain Price gets caught in a nasty helicopter crash, his leg is hurt, not broken, but he can't do anything but paperwork for a month. and that's ok! because he has you to sit on his cock for hours, you don't want him to be lonely while his team gets to be together, and laswell is for too busy to keep him company. and it really will help him to have your tight pussy squeezing his cock while he completes his work. and since it's all confidential, he can’t have you reading over all of it, so his only choice is fucking you until the only thing you can think about are his fingers playing with your clit and his cock fucking into you.

Lieutenant Riley doesn't get hurt, so he has to get a little creative. (he wants to just pick you up and fuck you wherever he can but Johnny said that would ruin the bit, he doesn't care about the fucking bit when he's the only one who hasn't fucked their medic.) so he's suddenly in your office about everything; his fingers are aching from having to teach rookies the proper way to hold a gun, he hit his head on a doorframe and needs some pain meds, dog bite, until he just gets fed up. those fuckers were handed perfect opportunities and it's clear that he isn't getting the same grace, so he'll just have to create it on his own.

obviously that includes just going to your office, locking the door, and fucking you against it. it's unceremonious and rather inopportune but his face is in the junction of your shoulders, biting into the flesh of your neck, and his hands are keeping you pinned to the door as his hips piston into yours. he sits with you for at least an hour after, cleaning the cum on your thighs, then leaves you with four dog tags and a command to wear them at all times.

and any question about who's medic you were are promptly shut down now that a  6'4 ghost, or the loudest scot on the planet, or the smell of cigars that don't come out even with bleach, or Sergeant Garrick follow you around.

[burb-ie]

So in tfa, Warframes and Civilframes (civilian) are separate frametype categories essentially. Most Warframes went to the Decepticons (hence why they are all automatically considered "dangerous" whether they are actually Decepticon or not) while the Autobots are made up mostly by civilframes. It seems to be implied that any and all warframe mechs on cybertron after the war and the autobots seized control were reformatted into civilframes (for example, Drift was reformatted and a mech called "powerglide" who doesn't have a flight based altmode despite what his name suggests are referenced in the Allspark Almanac). Basically; (and this isn't exactly completely canon, just what seems to be generally accepted by the fandom)

Warframe: any mech with a weapon or artillery based alt-mode (tank, fighter jet, gun, etc.), or a mech with built in heavy weapons. These mechs are typically larger, stronger, and built with heavier armor than their civilian counterparts.

Civilframe: mechs with commercial vehicle or utility alt-modes (car, truck, microscope, etc.) and do not possess built in weapons. These mechs are the most common and are smaller, faster, and lighter than their warframe counterparts.

There does seem to be an exception though; flightframes are a bit different. Most commercial flightframes are shuttles or large aircrafts which would fit closer with warframe traits despite lacking built in weapons, while military grade flightframes, like Jets and helicopters, are usually smaller and lightweight to make up for speed and agility in flight. But that isn't to say there aren't small, lightweight, commercial flyers or big, heavy weapons, flyers. Due to these discrepancies, the Autobots have deemed that there are to be No Flightframes among their ranks. (With the exception of the Jettwins, but you'll probably get to them later if you haven't already)

That being said, yes, TFP Optimus would absolutely be a warframe by these standards. And while it may not be strictly implicit, there is absolutely a version of functionalism and caste system in post war Autobot society in TFA, albeit, far more subtle and not explicitly referenced as such. Likely even unbeknownst to TFA Team Prime, but TFP Optimus will notice. I think the longer he stays in TFA, the more he'll dislike Autobot (or rather High Council/Senate) controlled Cybertron.

Oh my god thank you so much for explaining this to me, you're awesome!

Yeah TFP Optimus would most DEFINITELY be considered a war frame, and I feel like distrust would be worse given how he keeps his jetpack in this crossover

A flying artillery of weapons, exactly the perfect description of a Decepticon

And while OP wont be aware of the caste system of tfa for all of season one and half of season two because he wouldn't exactly be himself

Once he actually gets a closer look at this world's Cybertron's system of running things around he's gonna take a VERY deep breath

Then start punching the wall

Because WHY can't they leave racism behind in any universe, what is wrong with you people, if youre still gonna implement a caste system even post war then why even have a war in the first place, they're just gonna make history repeat itself and he can see it coming with his own eyes with the events going on around him with Megatron returning and stuff

Bro can't retire in peace

Can't have shit in detroit

(btw if anyone wants to share more tfa facts that im unaware of my inbox is open wide for all of you, ENLIGHTEN ME, i love learning more plus it helps me not to make mistakes in the future)

[awesome-casuallyfamouscollector]

Destroyed Russian Ural-4320 military truck with ZU-23 AA gun, Ukraine, March 23, 2023. Source:  Naalsio26

[mickandmusings]

love you, miss you, mean it

*this is a two part series, read part two here!*

**I recommend listening to 'love you, miss you, mean it' by luke bryan. it's a slight inspiration for this story and it's part two. (sorry, my southern roots are showing oops) **

pairing: bob floyd x f!kazansky!reader

word count: 2.6k

summary: before the daggers, before the uranium mission, before even top gun and 'bob', there was just young bobby floyd, finding himself at the doorstep of the kazansky household, year after year, finding family between a father and daughter, and a new understanding of true love.

(based off a request, but i'll post it when i'm finished with both parts, it will give too much away! <3)

warnings: lots of sticky sweet fluff, I accidentally made Ice a single dad??, 'Bobby' as Bob's civilian name, most likely military inaccuracies

-

The very first time Bob Floyd found himself standing on the Kazansky's front door, he was seventeen years old. He had parked his hand-me-down pickup truck on the street in front of the house, crossed the yard in record time, and rang the doorbell. He was standing on the welcome mat in a spiffy black tux, his sweaty palms clutching a plastic box that contained a corsage made of light purple flowers. Bob had no idea what kind of flowers they were, more than happy to leave that to the florist, but he knew they were the same color as the bowtie that seemed to be choking him. He was incredibly nervous, pushing his glasses up his nose in a repetitive nervous habit. His sapphire eyes caught a tall shadow approaching the door, and Bob felt his spine straighten, his heart hammering in his chest. Bob had heard the stories of Admiral Tom 'Iceman' Kazansky, US Pacific Fleet Commander (and more importantly, Y/N's dad) but now, as Iceman stared down at him, he began to realize he certainly lived up to his callsign.

The Admiral's eyes were a cool blue, piercing through the teenage boy's frame as he looked him up and down. He had seemingly only just arrived home from work, still in his Navy attire. His well-pressed, wrinkle-free Navy uniform made him appear taller than he was, a looming presence that demanded respect. The flat, stoic look on his face seemed permanent, only cutting into a small upturn as he spoke.

"You must be the Bobby I keep hearing about."

Bob nods, letting out a measly, "Yes sir," before sticking out a clammy hand to shake Y/N's father's hand.

The Admiral shakes his hand with a firm grip, squeezing Bob's hand so tightly that Bob swore his blood flow had been cut off. Finally, he opened the front door wider to allow Bob in, speaking as he shut the door back into the frame.

"You should probably take a seat, get comfortable. She's been giggling upstairs for hours now, but I doubt she's ready. You'll get used to it, waiting around until she's ready."

Bob chuckles nervously, sitting stiffly on the couch as he watches the Admiral stomp about the kitchen, seemingly making a cup of coffee. The silence is deafening, Bob is too nervous to say anything, but the man's booming voice soon cuts the quiet with ease.

"So, Bobby, Y/N says you're a military brat too, is that right?"

"Uh, y-yes sir, my father, he's in the service as well, my grandfather was too, sort of the Floyd family legacy."

The Admiral nods, absorbing the information.

"What about you, do you have any plans to-"

"Dad!" Y/N's annoyed voice broke the Admiral's sentence. Her heels clack down the wooden stairs, her dress whooshing in the wind created by her motion. Bob turned his attention in the direction of her voice, standing promptly, his jaw dropping as he took in the sight of Y/N. She was dazzling in her pastel purple gown, a slight smile on her face as she spoke. "Stop trying to recruit my prom date."

Y/N and her father shared a look, seemingly speaking without having to say a word before she broke out into a smile, matching the wide toothy grin of her father, before turning back to Bob, a slight pink blush forming across her cheeks. Bob blushed as he saw her walk into the room, making his way over to her.

"Y-You look," Bob swallows thickly, gaining his confidence. "You're beautiful."

Y/N blushes fiercely, straightening the lavender bowtie around Bob's neck.

"You clean up pretty well yourself."

The teenagers' awkward gazing is cut off by Ice clearing his throat loudly, his mug of coffee in his hand as he approached them.

"C'mon, kid. Your grandparents'll kill me if I don't get a thousand pictures of you two before you leave."

Y/N cut her eyes at Bob as he stuck his arm out for her to take, helping her over the threshold of the door and into the yard, the Admiral standing in front of them with his camera ready. They all went through the motions of a typical prom photo shoot-the corsage exchange, the awkward photos in front of the house, the send off.

Finally, she and Bob were down the road in his truck, Y/N smiling in his passenger seat, Bob's shoulders much more relaxed, not feeling nearly as tense in the presence of her looming father.

"Sorry about my dad," Y/N speaks over the music playing in the truck, squeezing Bob's hand where their hands intertwined on the console. "He's just a little protective, and, not very good at small talk." She chuckles lightly.

"No, no, it's fine. He was nice. Intimidating for sure, but nice. Made a joke that you take too long to get ready for everything."

"Of course he did," Y/N smiled and rolled her eyes, leaning her head on Bob's arm. The high school juniors had been dating for a little over six months, but both of them were head-over-heels.

The couple arrived and carried on as usual for teenagers on a prom night-mingling with their mutual friend and indulging on PTO-mom made snacks. As the night wrapped up, the last slow song of the night had Bob and Y/N swaying under the sparkling disco ball in the middle of the gym. Bob's tux jacket had been discarded on a chair hours ago, accompanied by Y/N's heels, both tossed about carelessly in favor of running back to the dance floor. Her head rested on his chest, his hands around her waist sweetly. Neither of them were paying much attention to the song playing, or the other numerous couples swaying next to them. Bob's blue orbs were focused entirely on the girl looking up at him from his chest, his hand moving to brush stray curls that had fallen in her eyes. As he looked at her face, his chest filled with warmth, a funny feeling erupting, one he had never felt before. His eyebrows furrowed, his forehead creasing.

"What's the matter, B?" Her voice came soft, just loud enough for both of them to hear.

"I love you," It came out blunt and honest, with no hesitation. Neither of them had said it before, and he watched as Y/N's face went from one of confusion to one of pure elation, a wide grin forming on her face as Bob lightly pulled her closer, their lips meeting in a kiss more meaningful than their previous ones.

That night, when Bob dropped her off back at her house, with the figure of her father sitting in their living room, he smiled as he helped her out of the truck and closed the door behind her. He walked her to the front door and kissed her again before saying goodnight, a permanent smile etched on his face. He watched her get into the house and waited for the porch light to turn off before peeling out of the driveway, his face aching from his never ending smile.

When he got into his own house for the night, his tux coat thrown over his shoulder, bowtie undone and his feet aching in his dress shoes, he collapsed onto his bed with a content sigh. His phone dinged with a new message, and he smiled as he saw Y/N's name flash across the screen. He opened it quickly:

I love you, too. I miss you already. Mean it.

A blush sprouted across his fair skin, typing back a reply as his heart soared.

-

Over the next few years, Bob found himself on the Kazansky doorstep hundreds of more times-weekend dates, barbecues, birthdays, study dates, movie nights, senior prom, just because, forgetting his house keys in Y/N's room, graduation parties, the list could go on and on forever. He had grown to find the Kazansky household his second home, Iceman's walls slowly melting towards the awkward boy his daughter loved. Y/N's father would allow him to stay over on long weekends and holidays through her first years of college and his of the Naval Academy, letting Bob tag along for family vacations. Bob slowly became an extension of the Kazansky family. Bob learned lots about the Admiral during his days and weeks of being in their home. Iceman loved things that made him seem less and less intimidating from when they first met. Tom Kazansky loved to make homemade banana bread, could often be found dozing off with a book in his hand, leaned back in the recliner closest to the front door, and the Admiral loved rom-com movies with a fierceness only championed by his own daughter. The father and daughter were a well-oiled machine, understanding each other in a way that Bob had never seen before. Bob would observe as the duo would work in fluid motion in the kitchen cooking dinner-knowing what each other was thinking without having to say a word. Y/N tossing her father spices and seasonings as he lifted the spoon to her mouth, and Iceman knowing just how she liked her coffee, her tea, and her favorite shape of ice. They knew one another inside and out, something Bob would often sit in awe of. It was a true display of love for one another, so loved that you know everything about someone, you know what they need without having to say a word.

When Bob had visited the Kazansky's over his final Christmas break from the Academy, he had expected the feeling of closeness and familial love. He found himself in the kitchen with Y/N, an Elvis Christmas record spinning in the living room adjacent. He wordlessly handed her the spoon from the pot he was stirring, her lips pursing as she thought for a moment, handing him a container of salt and other seasonings she knew were needed for the soup. Bob wordlessly adds an estimated amount in the pot before he stops abruptly, realizing what had just happened. His heart hammers, he and Y/N had been dating for nearly five years now, his time at the Academy coming to an end. They had suffered through nearly four years of a long distance relationship-he in Maryland at the Naval Academy, her attending college back in their hometown. They had made it through with phone calls and even letters, long lonely days and nights, and a love for one another that defied odds. He stopped stirring promptly, looking as Y/N was pressing cookie dough onto a pan, her eyes looking up at him.

"B? What's wrong? You look like you've seen a ghost." She smiled at him sweetly, wiping off her hands before placing them on his cheeks. "Do you feel okay? You're really red, you're warm. Do you think you're coming down with a cold?"

Bob couldn't make his dry mouth form many words, finally sputtering out a single sentence:

"I-I need to talk to your Dad."

Y/N's eyebrows furrow, looking at her boyfriend incredulously, as if he had grown another head.

"Um, okay? He's in his office. Bobby, are you okay?"

Bob nodded, leaning down to place a kiss on her head before racing off to the office on the second floor. Y/N only shook her head and continued making her cookies.

Bob knocks on the heavy office door, waiting for a response.

"It's open," Iceman's voice sounds from behind the thick mahogany colored door. Bob creaks open the door, Ice's cool eyes softening as he sees Bob enter.

"She drive you out of the kitchen already, Bob?" His voice was laced with humor. "She's too much like me, taking control of every situation. Sorry."

Bob laughs, "No sir, I just, needed to talk to you."

Ice narrows in on Bob's firmly serious expression, leaning back in his chair and looking at the boy man in front of him. Bob had grown up in the past few years, taller and more muscular thanks to the Academy. He only wore his glasses when required by the military, often opting for contacts when he was home, giving him a more mature look.

"What can I do for you, son?"

Bob's heart hammered in his chest. Was he planning on doing this now? No-he had planned for a lovely dinner, perhaps a walk on the beach before he did all of this. He had certainly, at least, planned on finishing the Academy before all of this, but after their interaction in the kitchen, the complete domesticity of it, paired with his overwhelming love for her, he knew now was the right time.

"Mr. Kazansky-"

Tom interrupts him, shaking his head in a good-natured manner. "How many times have I told you to call me Iceman, or Tom? I've known you for half a decade, I don't think the formalities are necessary."

Bob nods, understanding the man's warmth, but this was different.

"Any other time before this, and after this, sir, absolutely. But I'm coming to you for matters that pertain to Y/N, and I want this to be as respectful as possible."

Tom nods curtly, appreciating Bob's respectful nature, hands meeting in his lap as Bob speaks.

"Sir, I-," Bob swallows. He thought about this conversation a million times over and over as he stared at his ceiling at the Academy every night. "I love your daughter. I have for five years now. She is infinitely kind, and overwhelmingly beautiful. She's far too smart for me to keep up with most days, and she makes even my worst days bright. I think that's truly a testament to your parenting, she's the most headstrong yet considerate person I know. She loves fiercely, and looks after those she loves with the same fervor. She knows me unlike anyone else, and she's quickly become my feeling of home. Her music has taken over my truck, my headphones, and my inner thoughts. Her favorite movies have become part of my repertoire, and her favorite books sit next to mine on a bookcase in my room. Her things are scattered all over my apartment, and she is seeped into my every thought. When something good happens, she's the first person I want to call. When something bad happens, she's the first person I want to call. I want to spend the rest of my life with her by my side. I know this is sort of sudden, but I've spent every night for a year thinking about this, and I-I would like to marry Y/N. I graduate from the Academy in less than six months, and I'll be in aviation school, and I just-I want her to know she's a priority for my future. If I have your blessing, I would like to ask her before I go back to the Academy."

Tom's head nods, standing from his chair behind the desk, causing Bob to stand, Tom's palm meeting his in a handshake, a sign of respect. He suddenly pulls Bob into a hug, a tightness that is only matched by Y/N herself, the infamous Kazansky suffocating hug.

"You've got my blessing, kid."

Bob nods in understanding, pausing as he feels his phone vibrate in his pocket. He smiles lightly at Y/N's name and several emojis beside her name on the screen.

It's lonely down here. :( Love you, miss you, mean it.

He smiles at their simple loving joke that had survived from when she had first said it years ago. He pockets his phone again, looking up at Iceman with a newfound confidence.

"Thank you, Ice, sincerely. Y/N means more to me than I feel like I could express in words."

Tom's face breaks out into a smile, his eyes twinkling with something that might have been the beginning of tears, but that's yet to be confirmed. He lightly slapped a hand on Bob's shoulder.

"For what it's worth, you've got my permission. But it's not mine that matters, kid, it's hers."

-

part two out now!

[cevansbrat0007]

A Friend in the Dark Part II

Summary: After receiving an unexpected call from you in the middle of the night, Ari's not going to let anything stop him from getting to you. But will he make it in time? Takes place directly after the events in A Friend in the Dark: Part I.

Warnings: Mature Themes, Ari Being A Menace, References to Home Invasion, Scared Reader, Pet Names, Cursing, Minors DNI

A/N: Special thanks to my creative consultant, @curls-and-eyeliner, who helped me come up with the opening. Part my Sweet Renegade Series. Semi-proofread, not beta'd. All mistakes are my own. Likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated. Thanks for reading!

Ari Levinson’s P.O.V.

Although it feels like hours, it’s really only a matter of minutes before Ari finds himself pulling onto your street. Not wanting to call attention to himself, he immediately kills his headlights before throwing his truck into neutral, quietly gliding down the block. 

He already knows which home is yours – the one with the rose bushes out front. Stopping a couple houses down, the bounty hunter swiftly exits his vehicle. After triple-checking the gun in his waistband, he knows it’s time to make his way to you. 

Ari moves with lethal grace, his corded muscles tense and ready to strike should an enemy make the mistake of crossing his path. As he gets closer, he spots Milton’s cruiser parked a ways down the street.

Perfect.

The burly lawman tosses a brief glance over his shoulder, just to make sure he isn’t being followed – the last thing he needed was someone sneaking up behind him. A blow to the back of the head could be deadly, even for someone as big as him. 

He does a swift scan of your front yard, noting that nothing appears out of place. Holding his breath, Ari tunes his ears to the silence, quieting the sound of his own heartbeat as he wills his military instincts to take over. During his brief conversation with you, you’d said that the intruder had been at your back door.

Which meant that was exactly where he needed to be. Heaven help the fucker if he was dumb enough to still be there, scaring the shit out of his girl. 

He draws his gun and dispenses the safety, holding it low with both hands as he stealthily makes his way around the side of your house. It was time to confront whoever was out there, hiding in the dark like a coward. 

“Gotchu, motherfucker!” He barks, aiming his weapon in the air. 

Except there’s nobody there. 

Although he’s surprised, he remains on high alert. Keeping his head on a swivel, he slowly climbs the steps leading to your back porch. He takes a moment to examine the door, smoothing his fingers along the cracked, splintered wood. The frame itself is also bent and hopelessly warped.

It didn’t take an expert to see that someone had indeed been here at one point. Most likely trying to kick the damned thing down. The whole thing appeared to be hanging on by a thread as it was.

“Shit.” Ari hisses under his breath. Raking an agitated hand through his hair, he pulls out his phone and dials your number once again. “C’mon, baby. Answer the fucking phone for me.”

Why the fuck weren’t you picking up? Had the intruder managed to make their way inside some other way? Ice fills his veins at the prospect of someone holding you captive inside. Scaring you. Hurting you. 

If that something happened to you because he hadn’t gotten here fast enough, Ari would never be able to forgive himself. 

And just where the fuck was Milton? Out in the woods somewhere holding his dick?

At that moment, Ari makes a snap decision. He was determined to get into that house. Frankly, he’d already wasted enough time out here hemming and hawing as it was. Taking a step back and leveling the door with the most powerful kick he can muster, sending it flying open with a loud thunk. 

Taking no time to celebrate, the bounty hunter goes to make his way inside only to duck when he notices an object come flying at his head at the last second. Thankfully, it connects with the door frame instead of his skull.

Your P.O.V.

“Get the fuck out of my house!” You screech, swinging your bat wildly at the large figure that just tried to break their way into your home. “I’m crazy and I’ll kill you! Lord, help me, I’ll do it!” You continue swinging, attempting to keep the intruder at bay on your front porch until help arrives. 

“Wait – stop!” The intruder pleads, throwing up a hand in the dark as his weapon goes flying. 

“I’ve called the cops, you pig-fuckin’ bastard.” You spit, raising your Louisville Slugger high. They’re on their way and –”

“Goddamn it, baby!” Ari roars, scrambling away from the assault. “It’s me! I am the cops!”

That’s enough to knock the wind out of your sails almost immediately. Blood roaring in your ears, you belatedly realize that you’d almost just turned the very man who came to rescue you into a frickin’ vegetable. 

“Ari?” You whisper, finally allowing the bat to fall limply at your feet. “Oh…oh God.”

For a brief moment, all you can do is stare at each other. You, relieved to see him here. Him, relieved to see you unhurt. And it’s only as that feeling of relief begins to settle in is that you begin to shake. Covering your mouth with trembling hands, you watch the bounty hunter stand and collect his gun, before turning on the safety and tucking it back into the security of his jeans. 

“Hey there, sweetheart.” 

You don’t think. Don’t question. Instead you just launch yourself into his arms, praying that he’ll catch you.

Of course he does.

“Why the fuck didn’t you answer your phone?” He growls after a beat, pulling away to assess you for injuries. His large, warm hands make quick work of checking you out before gently cupping your face. “Huh? Why the fuck did you go quiet on me like that?”

You rest your smaller hands atop his as Ari brushes a feather-light kiss along your brow. His big body feels so tense beneath your touch. He’s wrapped so tightly, you’re almost certain he’s bound to go off at any moment. 

“I…” You swallow thickly as you will yourself to stop shaking. “I was trying to use the element of surprise. I took my phone with me but…when he started really trying to bust down the door I knew I had to do something, so I –”

“FREEZE!” A new voice yells, taking you both by surprise. Your bounty hunter immediately spins on his heel, pushing you behind him to protect you from view. 

Fucking Milton had finally arrived. A day late and a dollar short. 

“Jesus Christ, asshole.” Ari snarls, briefly raising his hands in the air long enough for the officer to recognize the fact that there was no discernable threat. “Where the hell have you been?”

“Got held up on the way here. I’ll, uh, tell you about it later, Levinson.” Is all he says, holstering his weapon. “You okay there, darlin?”

Later he would pull the lawman aside and let him know that someone had tried to hold him up. Make it difficult for him to get here as fast as the situation had warranted. It wasn’t quite suspicious, but still odd nevertheless. 

“She’s fine.” Ari answers on your behalf, circling a possessive arm around your waist. “Fine as can be, anyway.” He continues when you nod at his side. “Almost took my head off with a baseball bat before you got here.”

“Well, I reckon I wouldn’t expect anything less from one of The Creek’s champion softball players.” Milton responds with a tired grin, his hand coming up to massage the back of his neck. “How bad’s the damage to the door?”

“Eh…” Your bounty hunter attempts to shoo you inside with a guiding hand. “Whoever our guy is did a pretty good job damn near kicking the thing off the hinges. I just finished the job. I just wanna get her indoors so we can – wait.”

Ari stops cold, his entire body going stiff as if he’d only just realized something. 

“What’s wrong?” You ask, turning to face him, briefly halting his attempts to move you along. 

“You said you just got here?” You know the question is meant solely for Milton. 

“Yeah.” The officer responds, clearly perplexed by where Ari seems to be going with this. “Why?”

“Baby, you ain’t wearin’ nothing’ but a gown and slippers.” He murmurs, his lips hovering just above your ear. “Stop fightin’ me and go inside where it’s warm. Please.”

It’s an order, that much you can tell. But as much as you want to protest, you decide to do as you’re bid, leaving the two lawmen alone. 

Just this once.

“Good girl.” He praises you, still keeping his voice low even as his words warm your belly. “We’ll be along in a moment.”

Ari’s P.O.V.

“What’s up, Levinson?” Milton tries again once you’re safely out of earshot. 

“When I pulled in, there was a cruiser already parked halfway down the block. Assumed it was you and kept it moving.” 

“That’s awful strange.”

“I know.” Ari grunts, hands on his hips. “Did you call this out over the radio?”

“Well, yeah.” The officer shrugs as he wracks his brain for more details. “But nobody responded. Figured it would just be me and you and that would be enough.”

“Well, clearly someone else heard it.” Your bounty hunter snaps. “You didn’t see anyone when you pulled up? They weren’t still parked there?”

“No.” Milton scrubs a hand along his jaw. “I came the opposite way you did. Only saw your truck.” Turning on his flashlight he flashes it towards the woods beckoning along the edge of your property. “And did you see anyone trying to break-in when you got here?”

“No. But the damage was already done.”

“Think you chased ‘em off?”

“Maybe.” Ari murmurs, his tone rife with suspicion. “But I doubt it. Somethin’ tells me the fucker dipped before I even stepped foot on the lawn.” 

“Fucking. Awesome.” The officer blows out a tired breath. Turning off his flashlight, he lightly claps the other man on the shoulder. “Look. We ain’t gonna get anywhere with this shit tonight.”

“Yeah.” He drags out the word. “Yeah, I know.” God, he needed a fucking cigarette.

“It’s late. I still need to get her statement. We…we can pick this up in the morning.” 

With nothing else left to say, the confused and frustrated men head for your front porch. Regardless of wherever Milton stood on the subject, Ari vows to get to the bottom of this bullshit. 

But first he wanted – no, he needed – to see to you.

Your P.O.V.

It’s nearly 5:00am before Officer Milton walks out your front door, leaving you alone with the one man who had the power to keep you off balance. Right now the two of you are sitting in your kitchen, each sipping a mug of hot tea with an added splash of whiskey. 

Ari had been quiet for most of your conversation with the young officer, only interjecting where and when he felt it necessary. He’d also fetched you tissues when you started to cry, and even held your hand during the…more harrowing portion of your evening. 

“Thank you.” You tell him, your voice barely above a whisper when you finally break the silence. “For coming tonight.”

He wants to tell you that he’ll always come, whenever you call. But he can’t quite seem to summon up the words. So instead he simply settles on: “You’re welcome.”

“You…you don’t have to stay.”

“I know.” 

But Ari makes no move to get up. He’s not sure he’s capable of it. Not with you sitting here looking every inch the fragile little bird that you are. Now he knew that you, his woman, had two sides.

You were either his firebrand of a Duchess, or his sweet, soft little Bird. But what you didn’t know is that he was absolutely willing and wanting to keep you. Both of you. 

Clearing his throat, your bounty hunter leans back in his chair, his turbulent blue gaze clashing with yours. “You’re gonna need someone to fix that door.” His tone comes off a little more gruff than he intends.

With a sigh, you come to rest your head on your hand. “I’m afraid it’s too early for me to call the insurance company just yet.”

“I’ll take care of it.”

His response catches you completely off guard. You stare back at him with wide eyes, silently wondering how much the whiskey was talking. 

“Sweetheart.” Once again you find your hand encased in the warmth of his, squeezing gently. “It’s gonna take the insurance company days, if not weeks, to handle this. You and I both know you can’t go that long without a proper door.”

“But I still need to report it…” You protest, hating the fact that you can’t get your brain to work as fast as you would like. 

“So do that. But in the meantime, I’ve got a buddy who owes me a favor. I’ll get him and his boys out here and we’ll get you fixed up good and proper.” 

“I can’t afford that.” 

“Did anyone ask you to pay?” He responds, making it known that he had it in him to be just as stubborn as you. Releasing his grip, he scoots away from the table. Standing up, he picks up your mugs before depositing them in the sink. 

“Ari.” While you mean to sound firm, his name comes out more like a whine, making him smile. 

“How about you get on up to bed, hm?” He murmurs when he sees your head start to dip. Now that all that adrenaline had run its course, you were plum exhausted. “I’ll close up down here. Maybe find some tarp to put over that back door until we can get you the real thing.” 

“You’re so bossy.” 

“Hmph.” Ari grunts as he helps you stand. “Afraid it’ll only get worse the more I have to repeat myself.” 

Your sweet, yet incredibly stubborn lawman runs an affectionate hand over your curls. Unable to help yourself, you lean in, burying your face in his chest to inhale his scent. And even though part of you is waiting for him to push you away, you struggle not to melt on the spot when you feel him press a tender kiss on top of your head. 

“Off to bed with you, little Bird.” He rumbles after a minute, knowing this has already gone on longer than it should’ve. “Get a move-on, now.” 

You’re in such a haze that you don’t even bother to call him out over yet another stupid nickname. First Duchess and now this? You were gonna give this handsome jerk a piece of your mind after you got some sleep. Perhaps you’d threaten to peck his eyes out or something…

Leaning on him even as you plot, you don’t balk as he leads you toward the stairs. Nor do you complain when you feel a territorial hand settle on your hip as he guides you to the foot of your bedroom where he watches you climb into bed. And you decide to ignore the way your belly flutters when you hear him calling you his “good girl” one last time. 

END

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[go-go-gadget-autism]

I just know that husband!simon would be a fucking suburban dad. tumblr hear my pleas

would absolutely wear khaki cargo shorts

crocs/sandals with socks. would also get little skull croc thingies i forgot the name

skull themed hawaiian shirts, leaves them unbuttoned around the house

dad bod, esp after he doesn’t work in the military anymore (he’s secretly embarrassed by it) <3

would probably invite the 141 to watch football

would also probably do that thing where he gets mad at a play and stands up and angrily paces, before sitting back down

grill. grill. grill. has a pink “kiss the cook” apron that you got him as a gag gift. he wears it any time he cooks

johnny tries to take this literally, and ends up walking away with a spatula mark on his face

price thinks it’s the funniest thing he’s every seen every time without fail. ghost can sense johnny approaching from inside the house

would stand around the hood of a car with some buddies, having a chat

“yep, she isn’t goin’ anywhere” after securing something to the back of his truck

would absolutely get one of those big trucks people hate on highways

would buy his kids fancy water guns and teach them to snipe the other kids from the roof of their house

also probably makes his kids mow the lawn lol

coolest dad on the block

would share stories from his time deployed to the kids if they asked (they always ask)

the kids all call him ‘mr. ghost’

would absolutely trash kids in FPS games, including his

gives them tips so they can get better

cries tears of joy when they beat him for the first time

just husband!simon things

[occamstfs]

Masterpost !

Side Blog: Occam's Revue

Have any questions for me? Shoot them here!

Stories by Subject/Series:

Talismen:

I Beginnings ● II Gamer Grows Up ● III Sorry For The Backwash ● IV Deliverer ● V World Peace

2K Follower Writer’s Challenge:

Viral Transformation

Jock/Himbo

Most Recent: Man-Candle ● MuskMask Up ● Perfect Teeth ● Court Ordered Change ● Couples Counseled: Confidence ● In The Zone ● Typecast Troubles ● Coming Soon: Trendy Mustache

Cultural/Racial

Rosa's Cafe ● Those Holi Days ● Should've Worn Green ● Terracotta Turmoil ● Ramadan Recitations ● Anything For Extra Credit ● Actually, They're Called Tetrominoes ● Spanish Shortcuts ● K-Pop Conundrum ● One More Lap ● Ni Hao!Nyc ● Subcontinental Promotion ● Look Your Age ● Marichismo ● Change Your Tune: Alvaro

Frat

No Need To Pledge, Just Drink ● Legacies Are Supposed To Change ● How Many Drinks? ● New Meaning To Hazing ● Man Of Your Dreams ● Follow Your Nose ● Tailgating ● Peace Together

Military/Cop

Wouldn't It Be Funny? ● Coast Guard Compensation ● Anchors Aweigh ● Jonny Get Your Gun ● AL:IV Everycop

Bear

Tenor Troubles ● Beary Blast ● More Of A Man ● The Old Candy Shoppe ● Look Your Age ● Green Eyes Of Envy ● In The Rink: Dunks ● Slice Of Italy ● Talismen II: Gamer Grows Up ● For Sale: Dad Shoes ● Free Flag

Cowboy/Redneck

Ain’t No Place For A City Boy ● Country Charm ● Beau Of The Ball ● Halloween Bacchanal ● Keep On Trucking ● Coming Soon: Community Service

Role Swap

Diet Diaries ● Chauffeur Swap ● Queering The Ring ● Conjuration: The Call ●Couples Counseled: Confidence ● Couples Counseled: Care

Devolution

Pre-Homo Sapience ● Conjuration: The Call ● Coming Soon: Evo Bio 101

Surfer

Shaka-Screen ● Surfin’ The Years Away

Stoner

Ugh, I Hate Bongs. ● Higher Education

Misc

Tarot: The Knight of Swords ● Daddy: How To Be A Father ● Straight to Gay: Diet Diaries ● Twunkification: To The Ground Floor ● Voice Change: Tenor Troubles ● Temp E-Boy: Influencing Goes Both Ways ● Surfer: Shaka-Screen ● Biker: Helmet Left Behind ● Corporate Stepfordization: A Paragon Man ● Satyr and Knight: Halloween Bacchanal

[kinsey3furry300]

A fanfiction experiment: does not knowing which fandom you are reading make a good twist?

I love fanfiction.

But I also love suddenly discovering new things when reading a book. I like being surprised by shifts in tone, genre or style when reading. And the tagging and filtering systems used on AO3 and fanfiction dot net are so very good at letting you know exactly what you’re getting before you start reading, that it’s almost imposable to get pleasantly surprised like that. It's a great system for avoinding stuff that mught be triggering or just not your jam, or for finding what you like, but I miss the suprise sometimes.

So, as an experiment, I’m going to post the following Poll, and a short fic underneath the “keep reading” with nothing in the tags to let you know which fictional world this is set in. This is fanfic, but you won’t know which fandom until you start reading.

Does working it out in real time what fandom you’re in make for a fun twist?

CW for swearing and one obloquie reference to what might be offscreen sex.

Tagging a bunch of my mutuals that I think are involved in fanworks from several different fandoms to see if they enjoy the twist or if this is dumb. Sorry. Feel free to share for a wider audience.

@rain-droplet @zarohk @myheartisbro-ken @thejakeformerlyknownasprince @moonlight-fox @jewishpangolin @sarifel-corrisafid-ilxhel @abigfuzzybear @sillycourtjester @nazguldivorce @natalieironside @eom-02 @flamingswordofdoom @ghost-avian @thisfuckingdork @nice-is-neat @gaykarstaagforever @noeudspapillons @kabukiaku @bunjywunjy Edit: Also than you to the user who pointed out the rather embarrassing spelling error that both me and my beta missed. Once again the dyslexia is gunning for me.

Unpaved road. Barbed wire fence. Montana cattle country, high summer. Car.

The man in the grey suit stood in the road looking at the open hood of the car, forlorn. He took out his phone for the third time and checked. No signal. His expression did not change at this.

Upon hearing hoofbeats, he stepped over and looked, shielding his eyes from the beating sun with both hands.

“Can I help you?” asked the woman on horseback from the other side of the fence. Early or Mid 20s, black, handsome. Blue jeans, Gillingham shirt, scuffed work boots, straw cowboy hat. Faint California accent.  Rifle slung over back, old military surplus canteen dangling from the pommel of the saddle.

“Umm, yeah.” Said the man. No accent. East coast, maybe. “My rental has died on me. Do you have a phone?”

“No signal.” Said the woman, sliding off the horse and resting one foot on the barbed wire, before vaulting over, one hand on her shoulder to stop the rife swinging. “I keep a satellite phone in my truck, but that’s over the far side of the ranch. Here.” She said, tying the reigns to the fence. “I’ll take a look. What seems to be the problem?”

The man looked nervously from the rifle to the car for a moment. “Honestly? Dammed if I know. Darn thing just died on me. You out hunting?” He asked. The woman snorted.

“No, I don’t approve of hunting for sport, and I don’t eat meat anymore. I carry this for defence. Coyotes, more than people. I’ve got foals in the far paddock, and that attracts predators.”

“So you shoot them?” the man asked, sounding surprised. The woman shook her head.”

“I don’t plan to.” She said, moving to the car and resting the gun against the front bumper. The man moved out of the way and down the road a speck, giving her some room to work. “Usually I go for organic controls, this is just for last ditch emergencies.”

“Organic controls?” said the man, confused. He patted down his pockets, then pulled out a packet of cigarettes. He then took off his suit jacket, a remarkably human gesture in that heat. “What’s that?”

“Oh, coyotes and wolves are territorial. You get a large wolf to mark the edges of your land, and the rest of them generally stay away. Doesn’t work on bears, but bears are more likely to spook a horse foraging than actually hunt one. They need to be run-off, but they generally move when a large stallion charges them. We don’t get many grizzlies here, and the black bears wont normally bother a full grown horse.”

The man snorted. “You have a tame wolf, like, a pet? Just to piss on the fenceposts?” the women laughed. “No, that would be ridiculous. You can order pellets online. Wool soaked in wolf urine, wolf or tiger dung pellets, scares off the Coyotes or Cougars. Fresher is better, but thankfully I know someone at a zoo, they sort me out.” She said, looking over the engine.

“Ah? So this is your land then, I take it?” he said, moving to stand in the road, directly behind her, five paces back. Where she couldn't see.

“Yep. Nearly a thousand hectares, half horse ranch, half re-wilding program, down by the national forest. I’m partnered with fish and game. We’re reintroducing bevers next spiring, and I’m very exited about it.” She said, frowning. It honestly didn’t look like there was anything wrong with the car at all.

“Ah. Nice place. Said the man, putting an unlit cigarette to his lips. “A little hard to find.” He added, lighting up with a smile.

The woman paused. She, and there was no other word for this, twisted. Not like she was moving, but like something had suddenly gone very wrong with her spine, just for a second. Then it was over, and she calmly put one hand on the gun.

The man smiled. “Organic controls, so I see. You know, for a moment I thought I had the wrong person, but when faced with a clear threat, you reached for the gun second.”

“There are snipers.” She said, calmly. “You should know I’m being watched by the government, so if you try any crazy fanboy bullcrap-”

“Private first class Macerson and Lance-corporal Evens, USMC scout snipers, seconded out a military unit that doesn’t officially exist, yes, we knew you’d spotted them. You took the time to wait until they were replaced with the night shift, Cooper and Mackie, and then drove into town and went straight to the same bar they always hit up when they’re off duty. I presume you’d been trailing them for some time? Honestly, just confronting them would have spooked them enough, did you really need to pretend you didn’t know who they were and hook up with Evens? The poor boy is quite stricken with guilt, so I’m told. You didn’t have to twist the knife. They watch you, and we watch them. Something in Latin, ect ect. ” Said the man. He offered the cigarette to the woman, who was now standing there facing him, fists balled by her side, looking furious.

“You’re government.” She said. It was not a question.

“Yes.” Said the man smiling sweetly thought the smoke. Menthol, she noticed.  “But not yours. Although I am here with their permission.” He took a long drag.  “You know, I’m not joking when I said you were hard to find. Honestly? I thought the bird would have been the hardest to contact, but Fish and Game have an entire team dedicated to tracking his movements. I was as close to him as I am to you, if you’re wondering. He was about there” he said, pointing to the road “Pecking at roadkill. Not chatty. Marco now, Marco has a fucking press-agent and to be honest, you can mostly find him by heading to the right nightclubs and aiming for the mirrors, and poor, poor Jake, well… if you have the right security clearance, you can not only find him but make him call you ‘sir’. This spot, this spot now… properly of the radar. I had to pull a lot of strings at the state department to even find out about this place.”

“Good for you. Fuck off. I’m not interested.” She said moving to the fence and untying her horse. “I’m over it, and even if I wasn’t I don’t take kindly to strangers coming over and-”

“We’ve met before.” He said, calmly. “Back in the war.”

She hesitated “I- I don’t recall.”

The man laughed. “Well, I did look quite different then. Hork-Bajir host. You ripped my throat out. Worst thing was, I was already in the Yeerk Peace Movement at the time, just had the bad luck to draw guard duty right before the famed ‘Andalite bandits’ raided. Got off lucky, all things considered: Rachel was crushing heads that day. We need you, Cassie, the peace movement.”

“And? We’re at peace, more or less.”

“More.” The man said, sighing, “Or less. The empire is collapsing, Cassie. You’re out of the loop but I imagine you still follow the news. Balkanizing, infighting, the remnants re-militarizing, and there are some very nasty rumours starting to appear form the far edges of the empire about gods-knows what. Members of the peace movement like myself who spent years working our way up the government to key positions now find there’s hardly a government left anymore, and those of us who made allies in the Andalite and human governments, and those of us who keep in touch with the Notlith community have started to disappear, right here on earth. It… it’s falling apart.”

The young woman sighed. “It always does. What’s it to do with me.”

The man looked upset. “You founded the peace movement, we had hoped-”

“You’re not going to find peace by pulling me, specifically, into another war. What do you want? Spit it out.”

The man narrowed his eyes, took a deep pull on the menthol, glaring at her through smoke, and then continued.

“Some of the Yeerk Nothlit community here on earth have, ah, some regrets about choosing to Nothlit themselves. Their dissatisfaction makes them prime recruiting material for yeerk nationalists who want to re-build the empire, some of them are working with organized crime in Brazil… and there is a rumour that Andalite medics have found a method to cure Nothlit syndrome. Worse, the rumours are true: having looked over their findings from my contacts in the Andalite military, it looks like they are either there, or very close to it. You see the implication?”

She sighed. “Thousands of angry Yeerks who want to re-build the empire running amok in the amazon? Yes I can see the problem. Why is it my problem though? What do you want me to do? Go and make a PR appearance advocating the merits of staying a snake? Wiggle a dead rat around for them so it still looks alive?”

“No. Our initial plan was to just assassinate the Andalite scientists that were working on the cure, oh, don’t give us that look. The Andalite military refused to look the other way, so the best we could manage was to get them to evoke Seerow’s Kindness and not share the cure with us Yeerks.”

“I sense a but coming.”

“But, someone sneaked a copy of the research notes out, via the Skrit Na, and they made their way to earth. The Yeerk Peace movement and the governments of the Unites States and Brazil agreed that on the balance of probability this was a bad thing, and we sent a team into to recover or destroy the data.”

“I’m not doing it. Not getting involved. If some yeerks want to un-Nothlit themselves, that’s their choice.”

"Oh, no… we’ve already destroyed the data, we believe, the mission was a success. That’s not the problem.”

“So what is?”

“The team didn’t make it out.  We need someone morph-capable to go into the amazon on a search and recue-”

“Fuck off.” she said, re-mounting the horse.

The man sighed. “I could have gone to Jake, I have the authority to just order him to do it. I could have tried to leverage Tobias, he has… personal stakes in this, but I think he’s too far gone for this. I could even just appeal to Marco’s ego, or request the Andalite military sends a war-prince and some special forces. This is time sensitive, so do you know why I’m wasting time with you?”

“I’m sure you’ll tell me.” She said.

“Jake, the Andalites, the US government, all told me the same thing: it’s not worth it. The probability of getting them out alive is too low. We’d lose more people trying to pull them out than we’d save, plus the collateral casualties… They all looked at the maths, and decided it wasn’t viable. I need someone who doesn’t look at the maths. Someone who cares about the lost lives… someone who will feel bad if this goes wrong, and hold back as a result. We have a Chee contact in place to run intel and support the op, we have a backup team, but what we don’t have is anyone I’d trust to do it right. Someone is killing our people, ma’am. The Nothlit yeerks that refuse to join the New Empire, and no doubt killing a lot of innocent anacondas in the process.  They’re dying. And I need some who is sane, functional, and cares if that stops or not. You’ll be compensated for your time: 2 million, donated to the wildlife charities of your choice, we already know your usual ones-”

“No.” said the woman, wrestling the horse around to leave.

The man pulled out a Dracon beam. The woman cussed and reached for her rifle.

He turned, and quite calmly used the weapon to burn a number onto the nearest fencepost.

“Modulated beam, the latest tech.” he said. “My phone number. I’d try my business card, but I imagine you’d rip it up dramatically. Call anytime.” He said, dropping the hood and climbing into the car. It started first time.

“Why in the hell would I call you?” she yelled.

“Because tonight, when you’re done running around on all fours marking fence-posts or seducing your minders or whatever you do on a weeknight, you’ll wonder just how many people will die if you don’t.” The man said, calmy, driving away. *****

Cassie lay in bed looking at the ceiling for a long time.

“Fuck.” She said, after some time.

There was a noise. Coyotes. You couldn’t blame them, for being killers. It was just what they did.

They didn’t choose to kill others.

She sighed, walked to the window of the ranch-house, and focused for a second, morphing her vocal cords. It took barely ten seconds.

She slid the screen off her open window, stuck her head out, and howled.  The Coyotes got the message, and left.

There. She didn’t have to shoot them, sometimes you could just scare them off, so long as they knew who the top-dog in this neighbourhood was.

Sometime the threat of force worked better than force itself. Sometimes you needed a nuanced touch to your violence, if you wanted to spare lives.

She sighed, and ran her fingers through her short buzzed hair. 

“Shit.” She said, eventually.

Cussing the whole way, she stomped downstairs to the house phone. She did not own a cell phone. No point. This was one of the last spots in the lower 48 with no cell signal of any kind. Every time they tried to build a tower here, an increasingly ludicrous succession of rare birds would be seen trying to nest on the exact spot they had picked. Never a pair, but always a single highly endagered bird trying it’s damnedest to build a nest. Eventually the government had got the fucking hint and intervened with AT&T on her behalf.

Hating herself, she picked up the phone.

He answered on the second ring.

“How many lives?” was all she asked.

“At least eighteen, more if it goes badly. Three morph-capable humans and one morph-capable Hork-Bajir, four yeerks, ten regular humans who just got caught up in this mess.  They’ve been gone 24 hours, so we’re looking at Kandrona starvation soon, if they’re not executed first.

“I… morph capable controllers?!” she said, surprised.

He laughed. “Not every Yeerk on earth took your offer to become a Nothlit, Cassie. The US government captured some portable Kandrona’s during the war. You’re smart, and attuned to social issues: if the US military wanted morphing special forces, did you not think the CIA would want the ability to finally puppet someone after years of Manchurian candidate MK Ultra bullshit? Sadly, some Yeerks just switched one empire for another. Plus, Jake’s toy-soldiers only have so many hours of training per day: if they spend all their time running around with guns and practicing morphing, that’s no time to learn languages or technical data. Four Operatives, each with a Yeerk co-pilot to round-out their skillset. All volunteers from the yeerk peace movement: went in to try and stop the killing of Nothlits and the un-Nothlit-ing the radicals. Captured. Human organized criminals aiding the Yeerk Ultra-nationalists. Voluntary controllers, Narco’s with Dracons and an axe to grind, and a bunch of very pissed-off snakes. Absolutely the worst-case scenario.”

“Fuck. Location?”

“Brazilian-Venezuelan boarder. We have a bug fighter on standby. We can get you to the approximate location to meet your team in…. seventeen minuets.”

She digested this information, drumming her fingers on the phone.

“Is this a trap?” she asked, finally.

“Certainly. But not one I’ve laid, or it would be better fucking organised. They are suspecting we’ll send someone in, they are not suspecting you, or a Chee. That gives us some hope.”

“Okay, and one more thing before I decide: You said you thought you could get Tobais involved, but he was too far gone. Personal stakes, you said. What did you mean by that?"

Pause. Crackling phone static.

“The Morph capable Hork-Bajir is Rak Hamee, Jara and Ket’s son. Younger brother of US congresswoman Toby Hamee, and they are being held hostage by Yeerk nationalists to try and leverage us into giving them the Nothlit cure.”

“Fuck.” Said Cassie. “Land the Bug in the south paddock. I don’t want you spooking the horses.”

[moonriseoverkyoto]

Ghosts in the family

Synopsis - aka all the times The Riley siblings have talked about eachother, and all the times Soap should’ve connected the dots but didn’t see the constellation.

cw/tags - MDNI 18+ making out, grinding, no piv or smut guys sorry, swearing, mentions of female anatomy, military inaccuracies, fanon versions of cod characters, threats, mild violence, mentions of guns, innuendos, etc. you’re dealing with grown men in the military that is your warning

Pairing - Johnny “Soap” MacTavish x Afab!Riley!Reader, John Price x Riley!Reader (Platonic)

Author's note - Soap is about 26, Reader is 24, Tommy is the name of Simon’s canon younger brother who later scares him with masks and anyways, just beware of that background. Pt.2 of this au, just this just shits and giggles background for later bc I dont know how to flesh out that cliffhanger I left in my Drabble, see you at the bottom! - Moon

Requests are open!

© moonriseoverkyoto 2023. please do not steal, copy, plagiarize, translate, or repost any of my works without my permission. do not steal any elements of my theme without permission.

1. Simon knew that Johnny’s intention wasn’t to piss him off, but yet he still managed to feel a migraine pool behind his eyes. All day, every mission just asking question after question. Simon wondered if this is what it was like to have a stable home. All he had was you from day one his baby sister. His lips jerk upward before he cuts off the muscle reflex of what we know as a smile. He’d rather keel over and die than let Johnny see his eyes krinkle.

“I have a sister.” He grumbles. Everyone in the truck goes silent. Johnny’s jokes stop, Gaz smirks to himself, even Price manages to watch through the rearview mirror.

“Really? And you waited so long to tell me. Oh my god what’s she like. Oh is she pretty- wait don’t answer that, that’s weird if you agree…” Simon sighs to himself as he tunes out Johnny again. Oh he wishes holiday would come faster.

2. Holiday was tough. Even worse was being stuck alone over holiday break because your only family was stuck in an operation. Especially since you just got the news after putting up Christmas decoration.

“Really Simon? I got football on the telly, your presents are all wrapped” you whined. Simon grinned under his balaclava, oh how he wished he could be there to receive your annual gag gift.

“I know I know I know, assignment came late and everyone else has families to go home to so I just suggested myself-“ he tried to calm you down knowing this would only add gasoline.

“Dammit Si, I’m your family too! Im gonna give you a new buzz cut when you get home at the rate you’re going with all these sudden plans.” Your voice cracked at his name, you know he didn’t mean to break your heart. But Simon couldn’t bare to see Johnny, Price, or Gaz not go home to their big happy families.

“Yeah I know. Im yer brother. No getting out of that one.” He said. “Why don’t you stay with Price again this year. You know he loves you around”

“Because he is the only friend of yours that I’ve met-“

“Yeah you’ll meet the guys someday. promise.”

“Maybe for this holiday present?”

“Maybe.“

“yeah yeah yeah. I love you Si”

“Love you too, and I hope that second date of yours goes well this Friday” oh if only he knew how well that date went with your mysterious Scottish man.

3. “I thought you said you don’t kiss on the second date” Johnny grinned into your lips. Your hands all in his hair.

“Only if they don’t show promise” you remarked back. You could feel his bulge grinding through your pants in the back of this telephone booth. A soft groan leaving his lips as Johnny responded

“Oh so I show promise.” You could practically hear the grin as his lips trailed down your jaw and neck, the slight friction of his scruff following as he moved aside your dogtags.

“Yeah promise that if you don’t hush up, you won’t be getting anything” you quipped back as equally as smug

“Thought you were gonna call that brother of yers” he slurred back as he smelled your perfume. The man practically drooling as your nails trailed down his neck scratching. If he had a tail it’d be whipping the air. A whimper passing through the air as his bulge caught the right part of your fabric rubbing your clit in a delightful direction

“he can wait, I have something else to call for now” you said as you opened the door of the telephone booth and whistled (or yelled if you can’t) as loud as you could do to call a taxi. Johnny had a light in his eye that he never thought would spark until he met you.

Soon you would find out later that Simon actually COULD wait and he did, 12 whole hours he stayed up staring at your apartment door to be let in - fresh on holiday too. Maybe being motormouth’d by Johnny into the window of a hummer didn’t sound so bad now

4. Simon kept a photo of you and him in his pocket everywhere that you went. I mean everywhere. No matter the place. And a lighter too incase he was captured by enemies so as to not compromise his location. But it was a photo from a holiday in France. You were both pillow fighting in the bed. Messy hair, toothless grins, back when Mummy was alive and Daddy hadn’t shown his true colors. Tommy took that picture,. Simon holds it to remind him what he’s fighting for.

“Oh is that yer little sister, she’s missin a few teeth there” Johnny grins looking over the sniper’s shoulder.

“You’re about to miss some bones if you ask about my sister again” Simon growls. fuck. Johnny is the last person he needs around his sister. It’s not like Johnny was a womanizer - he was the opposite. Johnny was perfection. He was from a happy home, a stable home, a place where you wouldn’t have to remember what happened at that old house. It scared Simon to death imagining you forgetting about him. Then he’d really be alone.

“She must’ve gotten the good genes.” Gaz pipes into the coms, what an instigator.

“Wonder what she looks like in jeans” Soap hummed as he cleaned out his gun.

Ghost hummed to himself as he secretly folded up the photo and put it right back in the pocket over his heart. Maybe you could wait another year before meeting them.

Authors note - I made a part 2, this is unedited. Im so tired. I will flesh more of this out before I take another break I promise!! Xoxo - Moon