#heli-x 2

[rj-opp]

I love babygirlifying these men

[annoyinglythoughtfuldestiny]

They should run away together and live their best lives with their bugs and barn owls. 🐛🦉

[smulo-var]

Kánon: Tohle je Julie

Já: Mhm. Blorbo, rozumím

Kánon: Její rodiče jsou mrtví

Já: Huh?? HUHHH???

Kánon: Má strašnou smůlu

Já: No OČIVIDNĚ wtf

Kánon: Tady je jediná blízká osoba Hermína

Já: No paráda voe aspoň v tom není sama ale vraťme se k těm rodičům na chvíli??

Kánon: A víte, co je její největší problém?

Já: CELÁ TAHLE SITUACE MOŽNÁ

Kánon: Že si nemůže najít chlapa 😔

Já:... UHHHHH

Já: DOTAZ ŠÉFE, kdy umřeli? Jak umřeli? Kolik jí bylo- moment, kolik je jí teď?? Mohla za to její smůla že umřeli? Obviňuje se za to? Očividně ne, protože ji to celý film úplně minimálně zatěžuje a tohle je jediná zmínka ale wtf? Jak dlouho je tam Hermína? Byla tam ještě když vládli její rodiče? A jestli ne, jaká je tam mezera? Dny? Roky? Co dělala Julie mezi tím? Co se DĚLO PŘED ZAČÁTKEM FILMU

Kánon: Potřebuje manžela :3 !!!

[softaestluv]

Breaking Bread

Simon Riley who is quite the anomaly of a man, or human, rather. Your lieutenant who has only spoken a handful of words to you.

Simon Riley who happens to be sat at the only open table in the mess hall.

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x Sergeant! reader

Tags: Tags: Short n’ Sweet, Fluff, Pining, Slow burn if you squint, Food as a love language, Eventual romance, Eventual smut, Military inaccuracies

Pt. 1, Pt. 2, Pt. 3, Pt. 4, Pt. 5

on ao3 here!

You weren’t exactly sure what festered in your chest at the table with Ghost, but it ruminated and bloomed thickly in your throat between each gulp of his tea. It made you nervous around him, in a far different way than the nerves that prickled your skin because he was your superior. Nothing more than the dominance and assertiveness his stature demanded.

But somewhere along the lines the pricks morphed into tingles, claws against flesh became bristles on a brush, started in your chest before swooping low and fluttering in the pit of your stomach.

You almost wished you hadn’t realized the change, that you were anxious simply because your lieutenant wore a fucking skull mask and could snap your neck in two if he wanted. Not because he managed to crawl under your skin between the handful of short sentences he’s spoken to you.

But Simon Riley wasn’t a man of words. You didn’t need them anyways, they were insignificant in the palms of his actions.

So, you began to swim in the warmth that radiated your flesh in his presence— drowned in it with the tea he made just for you. Choked on it when he shared his food with you. When the counter ran out of something before you were able to get it, walked to the table with a pout, and he would place his own on your tray without a word. Or grabbing an item he knew you liked just so you could have double of your favorite— voice gruff when he mumbled ‘these the ones you like, yeah?’

You protested everytime because as much as you like the action, the thought behind it all; you also wanted him to eat. He was a giant, massive, needed more sustenance than you did, but he never responded to your denials. Made you learn quite quickly to accept it without a word because he wanted you to have it more than he needed it. So, like a good sergeant, you always do, fills you in ways you’ve never felt before.

Then, he began to save a seat for you in meetings and debriefs, just as his eyes urged you to the spot in front of him in the mess hall, they flicked to the empty space next to him everywhere you went. During training, on heli rides, in the rec room, in vehicle transports. Maybe it was subconscious, an automatic reaction to seeing your figure standing there searching for an open seat, but even when you had a spot on the rec room couch, he would find a way to your side. Sat next to you more often than not.

It became a running joke between the other sergeants, moving from the spot next to you if Ghost enters the room with a hushed ‘better move from the lieutenant’s seat.’

It burns your cheeks when they’re right, when he sits next to you without a word like that’s where he belonged. You almost feel bad for Soap when you see the look of betrayal on his face when Ghost tells him to move from his spot next to him— ‘LT, ah thocht we were closer than that.’

Mouthed a ‘sorry’ to him as you took his spot— your spot next to Ghost.

You thought maybe you were reading too much into it when a large hand on your shoulder to correct your form became two palms on your hips. When the ghost of his hand to guide you down the hall or to your shared table became a firm touch. When his pinky finger would slide lower than the rest, barely brush over the seams of your pants and resting on the top of your ass.

When he sat a little too close on the rec room couch, thighs pressed together. Knees knocking when you sat across him during lunch, or his foot sliding between yours so your legs would encase his. When a gravel ‘Sergeant’ became ‘dove’ or a murmured ‘sweet’art.’

Each touch had a fire ignited under your skin— in your core. Burnt you alive when you were alone in your room and all you could think about was the distant memory of his large fingers curled around your skin or the way his accent was thick, vibrated in your skull with each term of endearment he murmured to you.

And then, the two of you began to share food outside of the mess hall. The first time it happened you were on a covert mission with him and Soap. Ghost insisted he keep watch during a rest stop, told you and Johnny to sleep. Which you did, but you had waken up soon after. Lifted a drowsy head to find Ghost perched opposite of the window.

“Ghost.” You whispered.

“Dove.” He said lowly, didn’t even turn his head to face you.

You crawled over to his spot quietly as to not wake up Soap, stopping in front of him, “Are you tired? I can watch the rest of the night.”

“What are you on ‘bout?” He remarked, like you had said the most absurd thing, “Go back to sleep.”

You maneuvered to his side anyways, sat next to him as you began to unzip the pocket in your vest. Pulled out the granola bar you had stashed in there when you found out you were going on the assignment with Ghost.

It was smushed and crumbled, a sad remanent of the protein bar it used to be, but it was the best you could offer your lieutenant on an extended assignment. His eyes hesitantly flickered to yours as you broke it in half and held it out for him.

When he didn’t immediately accept it, you spoke softly, “Our little secret.”

“You’re distracting me, dove,” He grumbled, but still, he was a little too eager to eat it.

The next time it happened, you were in the rec room sprawled across the couch. It was late, one or two sergeants lingering in the space. Ghost had walked in with a cup of tea, presumably to walk through to his room, but he stopped when he saw you reading. Made his way over when you gave him a small smile, squeezed himself in the spot next to you.

And because you enjoy seeing the annoyed glimmer in his eyes a little too much you ask him if it was tea before hiding your laugh behind your palm, “Smells nice.”

To your surprise he held it out for you as an offering, raising your eyebrows in response, stammering, “Oh no, I didn’t mean it like that! It’s yours, I can go make my own.”

As you began to shift from your spot, because tea did sound good, he grunts disapprovingly and nudges you back into your seat.

“I’m sharin��,” He explained irritatedly, and when you don’t immediately take it, he dips his head lower, continuing quieter, “Our little secret.”

You can’t even hide the smile that smears across your lips, leaning forward, so he could press the rim to your lips.

“Careful,” He murmurs, watching you intently, “‘ts hot.”

It is hot.

Makes your mouth and throat burn.

You’re hot.

In other ways than from the tea.

It swirls in your chest and scalds your skin. Stings. Sears.

Fingertips aching at your side, digging into the pages of your book to alleviate the sensation.

Ghost stays with you until the both of you finish the cup of tea. Taking turns to gulp the liquid down between pages in the book you long gave up on reading, couldn’t focus with him right there. When he keeps turning the cup so he can drink from where your lips pressed, a breath of a kiss from your lieutenant every time he twists it back for you to drink from the same spot.

It might be subconscious, maybe he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it, but his eyes focus on you intensely, lips parted wantonly as you drink his tea. It makes swallowing difficult, makes breathing near impossible. Lips clinging to the rim as if you were trying to suck the imprint of his mouth clean off.

You probably shouldn’t, you know you’re being quite greedy over your lieutenant’s sharing and silence, but most days you sit on the couch waiting for him. Some days he doesn’t show, too busy with Price or too tired to trudge to the mess hall for tea, but maybe he wanted to sit with you just as much as you anticipated him between each page of your book. Maybe he felt bad everytime he saw you laying there, waiting for him, and carved out time to ease your desperation.

Though he’s there most nights than not, one cup of tea in gloved palms. His figure looms at the entrance, standing quietly until you notice him, like he had been waiting for your permission to join your space. And just as he flickered his eyes in the mess hall, you flash yours to the spot next to you.

And what’s the relationship between the two of you if not sharing small treats with each other? So, you begin to store chocolate in your pockets in preparation for your shared tea time.

The first time you pull a piece out and hand him a slightly melted slice he looks at you with complete amusement.

“You just always got chocolate on you, dove?” He asked, exhaling a soft laugh as he peeled his gloves off.

“Only for you,” You confess, placing the chunk in his bare palms.

You find his gaze when he keeps his hand open, doesn’t immediately throw the chocolate into his mouth eagerly like he usually does. His eyes were unwavering, fixed so strikingly you think you might’ve said something wrong, diverting your stare somewhere else, so you could remember to fucking breathe.

“Um I,” You begin to stammer because you’re not entirely sure what to say, but he cuts you off before you can form a complete thought —“Our little secret, right?”

You nod at him wide-eyed. Starry-eyed. Open-mouthed as he pops the piece into his mouth like he wasn’t pinning you to the spot seconds before, stripped you bare and exposed in the rec room.

The rec room, just like the mess hall, becomes yours and Ghost’s. Public spaces with the two of you at the center, sharing more than food and fleeting glances that the both of you seem to miss every time.

[smulo-var]

HOŠIIII

VIDÍTE TO VŠICHNI?!

MÁME PRVNÍ OFICIÁLNÍ FANART!!!!!

Ale jinak jsem 100% normální co se Smůlo Vař týče..... Nic... Uhh... Obsesivního nebo tak

A je hotová i druhá šestice máte ještě nějaké postavy co by jste chtěli vidět?

[heli-writes]

A dragon's heart - Masterlist

Pairing: Barbarian!Bakugou Katsuki x female!reader

Summary: The dragonblood tribe is known for being cruel, barbarian warriors that slaughter, loot and rape all places they pass through. They are feared among the villagers and even bigger cities. Having lost most of their women to a plague, they're trying to ensure their tribe's survival by kidnapping women from other places. However, they're not the only monsters in human form out there. When y/n experiences this first hand, she has no choice but to ask for help from no other but the barbarian leader Katsuki Bakugou himself.

Heli's Masterlist

Part 1,

Part 2,

Part 3,

Part 4,

Part 5,

Part 6,

Part 7,

Part 8,

Part 9,

Part 10

Part 11

Part 12

Part 13

Part 14

Part 15

Part 16

Part 17

Part 18 (coming soon)

[qwimblenorrisstan]

Surprise | Soap x Reader

Summary: After a mission that they barely survived, Ghost leads the team to a safe place to stay, his half-sister’s apartment.

Word Count: ~ 1.6k

Warnings: mentions of death, blood, missiles, etc

A/N: first time writing for cod…hope you enjoy, lmk what to do for part 2!! (also here is what I had in mind for the apartment layout, if you’re like me and can’t picture buildings in your head)

Requests are open!

Masterlist | Next

Their mission had gone to complete shit.

It had started relatively simple compared to the other missions they’d been doing, with Russians, cartels, Mexican forces, and whatnot. They’d been shipped out to America, a suspected terrorist group that had been working for General Barkov when he’d been killed.

A group that had now gone rogue, and rumor was that they were headed to Britain, holding a missile for transport that had been stolen from a covert American base. The Americans weren’t taking it too well, but that was to be expected.

“We don’t have enough information to know who they are, you just need to get that missile transported, and get out of there.” Laswell had told them.

“Sounds easy compared to what we do every mornin’, right Lt?” Soap had said with a grin, nudging him with an elbow slightly, and he had only given a grunt in response, still processing information.

“Easy” his arse.

Sent to one of the states at first, they’d tracked down this supposed terrorist group, apparently it being a lot larger than they originally expected. A lot larger.

It was only because of the intel Gaz had gotten his hands on that they’d been able to locate the missile while it moved, it being located in a broken-down warehouse near Galveston, Texas. Right near the Gulf of Mexico, if they were planning on taking it to sea to travel with it.

And when they’d stormed the warehouse?

A total mess. Unorganized and sloppy.

Soap had blown the door, and they’d planted charges around to detonate for the men guarding the missile but had underestimated just how many there would be. It was crawling with them, more confirmation that they’d been informed somehow beforehand of Task Force 141.

Men in vents, ceiling panels, underneath desks, and hiding behind cabinets, doors, anything.

The missile had only been taken out because of air support, the same air support that had nearly been shot down and taken out, when a heli had finally come in to reprieve them while snatching that missile up and getting the hell out of there.

That didn’t solve the problem of the men everywhere, though. The charges that had been meant to blow some to pieces had been botched, and with all the gunfire, they would attract unwanted attention. Police were already investigating, conveniently turning a blind eye to Price and the rest of his force. It wasn’t a coincidence. Not when Shepherd had a history of paying people off to keep them quiet.

But that wasn’t their problem, right now, Ghost was trying to devise a way to get them the hell out of America, or at least out of goddamn Texas. Of all the places to be stuck in.

“Laswell, where the hell is our exfil?”

He radioed over, crouched down on the roof of a building, taking out whoever he could from it. Many of the men in the terrorist group weren’t a bad shot either, so he decided to keep his head relatively low.

“Negative, Ghost.” Price’s voice responded.

“The hell does that mean?”

“We aren’t leaving. Too many men still here, Kate wants us keeping eyes on ‘em.”

“Bloody fucking hell..”

They had decided to regroup at an old church down the road, Soap was a little banged up, with more than a few cuts and bruises, and Gaz dealing with a minor head injury he’d gotten when someone had tried to smash his skull in with a gun, and Price donning a decent sized cut to the arm.

“This is a covert mission. We can’t stay at a hotel or anything of the like, so where are we going?” Gaz asked, and Price paused for a moment, looking a bit unsure, which made sense considering this had been a get-in-get-out mission before it had changed. Before he could open his mouth to speak, Ghost spoke.

“I know someone, but they’re a long ways away.”

~ 3:48 A.M.~

A knock that was more like a banging on your door woke you up from your light sleep as you quietly sat up in your bed, standing and tiptoeing over to the front door of your spacey apartment.

It was large, for the price. But considering you were working for the landlord at a local restaurant, as he was the general manager there as well, it made sense.

The apartment held two spare bedrooms, and a nice living room connected to a kitchen with a table in it you liked using. Two bathrooms, one in the hallway where your room was in, another connected to a guest bedroom. A little balcony, which came in handy when one of your friends wanted a smoke break when over at your place.

Palming the closed hunting knife still connected to your pants and hanging loosely, you figured you were safe enough to answer the door, and looking through the peephole, you saw four men.

Military, and the one in the Ghost mask…

Opening the door, your face now annoyed, you stared him dead in the eye. Didn’t even glance at the others.

“We need a place to stay. A month or two at most.”

His low and rough voice, donning a British accent, said. It was louder than you remembered him being, but then again, he wasn’t the scared little Simon that you’d known anymore, scared of the abusive father you’d both shared. He wasn’t the Simon who mumbled or spoke quietly anymore.

A silent conversation passed between you two at the door, a thick silence passing over the entire group. The other men stared. Your eyes narrowed, a nonverbal question.

Are you on a mission?

He didn’t move for a moment, no doubt thinking of the information he could share with you. Another reason for your eventual fallout, the fact that he wouldn’t ever share with you anything if what he did. It was always to keep you safe.

Eventually, he gave a tiny, near imperceptible nod. On a mission. Of course, he would come to you while on a mission, dragging you into it. It wasn’t like you were helpless against attackers, not at all, but they’d had some crazy shit happen to them over the years, and that was just from what you’d overheard.

With a resigned sigh, you looked over at the other men he’d brought.

A taller man, with a beard, and a bucket hat. He looked like he had authority. A man on the shorter end, with some scruff, a mohawk, and a poorly restrained cheeky smile. The last man was darker, an almost caramel brown, with short hair, cleanly shaven, and a hat on.

Military men, clearly, but if Simon was willing to trust them around you, then you didn’t count them much as a threat right now.

“Names.”

You said flatly, and the Mohawk-one’s brows raised before replying.

“You can call me Soap-“

“I mean your name, not your shitty military nickname.”

You interrupted bluntly, clearly not in the best mood after being woken at 3 AM because of Simon Riley. “Soap” raised his hands in a mock gesture of innocence.

“Easy, lass. It’s Johnny, if you must know.”

Scottish, then. You could tell by the accent. The taller one spoke.

“John Price.”

The prettiest of the group spoke with a little smile that could’ve fooled you for not being faked.

“Kyle.”

Giving them all one last flat, surveying look, you jerked your head into the apartment, walking in.

“Two guest bedrooms down that way, bathrooms down the hall, there’s a balcony if you want a second exit. Don’t break anything.”

You said simply, and they walked in, looking tired as hell and covered in bandages. However, you weren’t going to let this go. Not right now.

You grabbed Simon by the arm, and he stiffened, stopping.

“You and I are going to have a little talk, Simon.” You said, dragging him into your room, and shutting the door behind you as he sighed, pulling his mask off. Blond hair and lashes came into view, as well as baby blue eyes.

“What the fuck were you thinking, bringing-“

You began, pissed as hell. He hadn’t contacted you in years, not since his mom had died, and with your shared father already dead, you’d been shoved into foster care.

“We’re all injured. We can’t stay anywhere we can be easily found. This area isn’t as well registered, and we’ll be gone in a month.” He spoke simply as if it wasn’t anything to get upset or emotional about.

You took a breath and breathed it out. Stay calm.

“I’m not talking about the mission, Simon.”

He seemed unused to being called his real name. At least, by the stiffening of his shoulders, you guessed so.

“There’s nothing else to talk about.”

He said gruffly, turning to open the door and leave. You stepped in his way, and he stared down at you, unamused. You were barely 5’6, and he was 6’2, so it was quite the height difference.

“You can’t run from your problems forever, Simon.”

You said, hands on your hips, and he simply picked you up, placing you beside him as he opened the door and walked out. Always running from his problems.

It was surprisingly unsurprising.

~ 4:07 A.M.~

“You want to explain who the hell that is, Simon?”

Price asked gruffly from where they were all gathered in one of the guest rooms. Simon paused his quiet pacing for a moment to reply.

“My half-sister.” He answered, and a silence fell over at that. The only sibling they knew he had was Tommy, and Tommy was long dead at that. A few seconds passed, before Soap, in the bathroom connected to this particular guest room, combing his Mohawk and going through his haircare routine, spoke up.

“She’s a real bonnie lass.” Johnny said with a grin, and Simon sighed.

“English, MacTavish.”

“She’s hot as fuck, sir.” The Scotsman said, and there was a small, disappointed sigh from Gaz, who already knew he’d have to patch up Soap from Ghost, who was fuming silently.

[umhwarmglitterstory]

Ladybird, Ladybird

||Jake Sully & Daughter reader || Miles Quaritch x f!reader ||

| Mature | Depictions of violence | Mentions of death |

Chapter 2

(<- Chapter 1) (Ladybird, ladybird masterlist)

•••

Spring 2159

The glass and the filter panels started vibrating with the new song, a really old one, with synth and bass and drums. Your head rested against it, looking up through the glass ceiling. At the lights sizzling, at the moon, at the club neon stripes, at the low orbit ships.

At the blank point between the satellite and ships. Invisible, but there it was, your star. Because you had memorized it long ago, where exactly Alfa Centauri was supposed to be.

You lived too up north to see it, and wouldn't leave your country for the first time until you were seventeen. So, you had resigned to learn where it was supposed to be. That point under your soles, across the floor, across earth, across 4.36 years light of void space.

And every day since he left, you searched for it, somewhere in the soil. And every day you were stationed on a more southern country you looked for it in the sky, even if realistically you'd never actually see its light.

Because it wasn't a star, it was a prayer.

And maybe he is looking back at the sun. Back at me.

You downed another glass of bundy rum. Until you were seeing so blurry you couldn't even distinguish the moon.

Early Summer 2159

You knew who you'd never be. This was just temporal. It would pass. No?

So just for the meanwhile, you didn't care.

You stopped aiming at legs, and went for the chest. Blew heads and stared at the red mist in the air. You didn't try to decipher the gurgles and whimpers, to find the words amidst the yells. Just noise, just noise.

I'm doing it for him, you had told yourself, the very first time you got a kill count. You had to. You had to become a remarkable soldier, and too, maybe, study enough. Become a biologist, like Tom. Whatever, anything.

To meet him halfway. To be like like him. To see him sooner.

And now, right now… at least out here you could ‘decompress’, you had shredded and burned and thrown away all your uni books. All except that one.

“He turned his back on Earth” You braced yourself while Becca counted for the detonation.

“He is responsible for the slaughter of thousands of soldiers, miss Sully” You clutched your rifle on the heli trip to a new drop

“He picked those blue monkeys over his kind, his people” You emptied your cartridge behind a tarp that moved. Maybe it was the wind, maybe it was a dog. Maybe it was someone. You recharged

“Whatever psychotropic drug this Eywa is, he put it above humanity, above everything” You were preparing your cot when bullets rained down the camp, you and Martin jumped behind the counter. Something- a bullet, went through your leg, at the center below the knee. You didn't yelp.

Above you-

As it started it stopped. Martin patted you on the shoulder and went outside to check the B team. You rolled up your pants’s leg, blood oozed from the hole. It hurt, and burned.

He left you.

He chose them

He'll never come back

You'll never punch him or hug him.

You'll never see him again.

Your vision blurred with tears.

Late Summer 2159

You got the most expensive treatment his money could pay. It had been a destructive bullet, the de-fragmenting kind, and yet in a week you were out, with a little limp that would likely fully disappear in six months.

This tour you had earned six mentions. Better than ever.

Now that you got nothing to look forward…

You started lying, because back at the beginning, you had stupidly insisted ‘Goose’ as your call, honoring him. Back when he was your world.

-On your drawer it rested, “Mother Goose Rhymes”, under Tommy's books.-

Back when Bianca was alive, you had gotten a deep cut on your face, from the side of your forehead, down the side of your check and the angle of your jawbone, touching your neck.

“Yeah, they've told me it looks like a Glasgow”

No one had, because it didn't. But the name was sticking, and you were so happy for that. Anything but Goose, or Mother goose, or Giselle. Anything but him.

It would still be a while before anything became official, engraved.

Fall 2159

His birthday- Their birthday.

You woke up on your former neighbor's bed, Yohan or something, with no recollection of the past day. Those pills were strong, you liked them. You asked Yohan for more, and left his place only a week later.

Inevitably, here and there started to appear rumors. ‘News’ of a war, a lost one, and the condemnation of earth.

But not his name, you noticed, maybe to avoid any form of reverence. So, a nameless ‘group of traitors’ was to blame.

Winter 2159

You were called -close to Christmas- to one of the RDA centers, a different one.

Both groups had started to form: People who spat on the traitors, and people who admired them. People who for a while had been admiring her, Pandora.

“You need to change your name, immediately,” Mancini had said “As common as ‘Sully’ is, someone is bound to find the connection, and therefore, you”

First Goose, now Sully.

It hit you harder than you had expected, and you had expected it for months by now.

You told yourself you were okay with it, that you despised it. And you should. But then it all felt so unfair. You only had it for two years.

The soulless, almost surgical procedure, contrasted with the one you did a couple years ago, all by yourself. Hot with emotions and feelings, needing something to grab, to hold on to.

When you were seventeen, your neighbor, Mrs Veenani, passed away. The last person you had, the last person in the entire world that had met you and Jake.

Without her, without your mom, without Jake and without Tom, did you even exist?

A primordial fear and loneliness had covered you. Everything disappearing. Everything getting away like sand between your fingers.

So you had held onto it, onto your pathetically self assigned family name.

You stared at your brand new ID. Everything, including the photo, exactly the same. Except one word: Smith

Starting that same day, all your belongings, documents, uniforms and tags, would carry that last name. The commoner amongst commoners.

So you dared ask for a favor, and you could have begged. You had really tried, and still, everything was getting away like sand between your fingers.

“That… that last entry. May I see it?

***

He smiled that stupid smile. The pitiful, hurt one? Like when you gave him a gift he actually hated, or when you told him he could walk again in no time.

Or when he told you he'd be leaving earth.

You started chewing on your finger's joints.

Entry: 00862102154-05

Sent: Day-11 Month-06 Year-2154

Origin: Alfa Centauri - Pandora

Received: Day-24 Month-10 Year-2158

Displayed: Day-22 Month-12 Year-2159

P. Redacted

“Hey kiddo. I've missed you. Uhm. Well, woah. So much has happened these last days, uh, months. I.. I promise you, I've been really really busy. I uh, I quite literally was born again! Ha, can you believe it? The Iknimaya, remember? Well, what- I am one of them. In… in every sense of the word, I am one of them… Omaticaya. Uh, Na'vi.

It's… it's so much more than you could ever imagine. It's… ah, well, how do you describe the indescribable?

...

Eywa is… beautiful. The most beautiful thing you could ever, ever imagine. And she, she talked to me- well, not quite, literally, but, ah… it changed. So many, so much- it's all so different?

Decisions were made, haha, you know?... God, how I wish you could be here, that I could, I could talk to you. Explain it. I- I!... Ahh… I love you, and, you are the most important person to me back there. You… you know that. Yes, of course you do.

Uhmm…

…

…

…

I wish we could talk. Face to face, you know? I miss your voice, and, I always wonder what it sounds like, my big baby. My big girl… Always my babygirl… Argh! I- everyday, I just, wake up, and, then. “oh wait, I'm supposed to be good, really good” You know? To fight for- you know, the things we love, the things we believe. And it's always scary and, doubtful? But, I know… I really know… it's just, I wish-! Argh!... that things were different, so different. Just, not like this. You know. Me here and you there, and ten fucking years to exchange a word.

It- It feels particularly unfair, today.

I…

I think about you. I think about how much I love, how much I, I would do anything for you. To, to keep you safe, happy, at home… your home.

What wouldn't I do? What wouldn't I do…

I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I know I am rambling. Ah, gosh, please guys don't, don't delete this. An old man can run his mouth, no?

…

My point is... Baby, I love you. I am so proud of you, and, and every day apart I miss you terribly. But, I am trying to be a better man. Okay? A man you can be proud of, look up to even!… And I think, how would I do it, how I'd care for you, provide and protect you, all that. And… I am doing this for you, too. Okay? To be, to be the one with the big ‘biggestest’ heart.

I… I guess i'll continue to miss you terrible, hmm, no?... Thank you, by the way, uhm, by the way, for every day you were there with me, even when I was an asshole. You truly were the best part of those years, and… and you'll be alright. You'll be alright… The… the most brave, strong, smart, and beautiful woman, in the entire world. Never forget that, okay?

Promise?

Uhm…

And, uhm… I love you. So much… Goodbye.”

Only there and then did you realize, you had hoped to it all to be wrong. For them to be lying, framing him. Because, how could he?

But no. The only liar had been Jake.

***

February 2160

Would Bianca's memorial just get harder and harder every year? It's supposed to get easier, to fade. Soldiers shouldn't mourn, not comrades. And yet.

One thing led to another. You trashed that warehouse you called your apartment.

“Bottles used to break” had said Mrs Veenani. You missed that.

You were laying on the floor, in and out of consciousness. A puddle of puke besides you. You were going to sell the place, and everything inside they could just burn. His few clothing you had saved, his books and the ones he and Tom had gifted you, your old toys and trinkets…

What had you been doing? What were you thinking?

You wore, quite regularly, their Jackets. One from Tommy, two from Jake. Your body only recently big and bulk enough to hold them without fastening belts.

Not one, but the two fuckers that had thought you so disgusting and unworthy of calling family-!

Oh, you dumb cunt.

You crawled on all fours and grabbed his jacket, Tommy's, a navy blue one in faux leather. You bit the back of the collar and pulled, until your Jaw and arms tensed. It gave, and after the first tough strands, it ripped with ease.

You threw the rags against the window glass.

Next, to one of Jake's, the zipper black one with silver strands. It was tougher, you had to kneel on it and pull at the sleeves, one then the other, then bite the back seam until you opened a hole, ripping it like paper. You threw one by one the four pieces against the wall

Then, finally, his black jacket. The one with big buttons and pockets. His favorite. The one he wore the last day.

You grabbed the sides, by the collar, as if he was wearing it. You started to pull, but your hands were shaking too much. One, two, three drops fell on the fabric. You buried your face on it and screamed at the top of your lungs.

Summer 2160

“The world, is shit, ya know?” You slurred, making the girl on the couch snort. “Ont’ worry, I'll fucking fix it!” You cheered, fixing your party hat with the embossed ‘21’ on it.

“Ya'know, m gonna be a fucking sargent next year” You half yelled, the girl and the man howled and clapped. Arthur -or Archie -whatever, sat down by your side on the floor, his arm around your naked waist “Ow man, that's terrible. Worst news ever, no Andrea? What should we do with, you know, the drugs?” He asked, dramatically, swinging in the air the bag with the neon pills.

You three laughed. You picked a bright pink one and put it in your mouth, grabbing the tequila bottle.

“Woah, ain't you still unde-” You sloppily put your finger on his lips “Shh, shh. This is an army trick” You took a long sip of tequila, downing the pellet “They cancel each other” You said, now pressing your finger against your own cheek. You and Arthur laughed, Andrea rather dozing away on the couch, her eyes semi-closed on her blissed face.

“Setro- Seriously, ain't you worried they catch you?” He asked, and you laughed so hard you heaved by the end. “Setrously!” You mocked, and laughed a bit more. He lifted you and sat you on his lap, your legs straddling his hips as his dick hardened again.

“But seriously, seriously, wouldn't you get scolded? Expelled?” He asked. You looked him in the eye, some uncalled anger bubbling in your chest.

“Tell you what-” You said, grabbing your phone from the very messy coffee table. “Let me earn, some favors, no?” He raised his eyebrows, confused but interested.

You called Delgado, Colonel Delgado.

You took a couple of deep, grounding breaths.

“Yes? Smith?” She asked

“Yeah, hello, Lily”

“...What is it?”

“Uhm, nothing ste- serious, or official, you know?”

“What is it then”

“I… I've been meaning to tell you, respectfully, ma'am, you are hot as fuck”

Fall 2160

Almost three months passed before, surprisingly, your drunken self-dare ended with actually going out with Delgado, with Lily.

… The talking was meh, curt and never really passed the formalities. Maybe the age gap worried her, or the fact that, in theory, and by a long, long stretch, she was your superior. You honestly didn't give a fuck.

Maybe it was you taking it all wrong.

Whatever it was, it passed the second she took you to her apartment and locked her door. The both of you very drunk, you lounged yourself at her and she caught you. You kissed and touched, undressed as fast as you could on your clumsy state.

You kissed and sucked and bit, down her neck, torso and hips, down to her cunt. Did she moan and whine.

“Mother fucking christ- There! Yes!” She had cried.

If anything, it would be good for your ego. That'd be enough, in the end, no?

You laid beside her on the bed, too hot and bothered to pull the sheet over. You studied her dozing face, out of habit you tuck some of her black hair behind her ear. She smiled and huffed, still, too drunk. You felt guilty, having kind of forced her to binge drink. It was unfair how sober you yourself were in comparison, alcohol alone not really doing the trick like it used to.

“Girl, hmm, you should called me earlier” She slurred.

You huffed “Honestly, never thought you'd reciprocate”

“What?- I totally gave you eyes”

“No? When?”

“Your, uh, your new ID, the ‘Sully’ stuff”

Ruined. A weight sank in your chest, your breath hitched for a second. Lily was too drunk to catch it, apparently.

But that… that gave you the idea.

“Any news, by the way?” You asked. Since that day, the day you met her and Mancini, nothing had been revealed to you, or the public. Everything was classified, under heavy investigation. You heard more about the war through Hecate's anti RDA propaganda than you ever could via official sources.

That last thing, his last message, it had been shown to you only for how useless they had deemed it. Out of pity, then.

Lily hummed, “That's official data, miss” She said, snuggling deeper into her pillow. You rolled your eyes, played to slowly snake your leg up hers, hooking it by her hips.

“Good this isn't some ‘’official’ interrogation then. Come one, some gossip, before Hecate shares it online in a month”

She groaned “Ugh, those damn fuckers… Mhh… What's there to say…” She went silent, and for a second you feared she had already fallen asleep. Until she faintly snorted “He's got himself a blue family”

You forced a laugh of yourself. “What?”

“Mhm, a boy's been born”

“... What?” You repeated, nothing but a little thread of voice.

“Adopted one too, they said”

“A-...

Adopted?”

“Mmh… Other kid, around while the wife was still pregnant. Or not, maybe that's-” She yawned “Maybe that's how they breed…” She finished with a dying voice.

No. You had read more than enough about Pandora, and Na'vi, and avatars. It was- it was the same- the same exact process-

It was too quiet, silent. Probably she had those sound barriers- Why wouldn't she, she had the money, it all looked so damn expensive! that tacky long lamp on the wall!

It was too silent, and dark, Your eyes watered, your vision tunneled. Saliva pooled at your mouth with the familiar twist in your stomach.

How… What did, he- he

When- when was it-

“I… I'm barely an adult myself, kiddo. I'm sorry”

How fucking long had it been for him?! Two years?!

How could he, HOW COULD HE!-

You barely made it to the bathroom

(Chapter 3 ->)

[babygirl-riley]

What’s a Soulmate?

Ghost never thought he would have came this far in life

“It’s a person who knew you, accepted you and believed in you before anyone else did.”

simon x reader guide

simon x reader fluff/angst

“Who’s ya soulmate?” The question rang in his mind as he stared down at the child. What does he say? How does he say it? The little girl was smart for being 8, he didn’t know what to say. He stared at her before looking up at his wife. Both of them waiting for a response.

Everyone was afraid of Ghost, his demeanor always the same. Cold and rash. Always the “bad cop,” always the hard ass Lieutenant, always the one to make sure the drills are harder if you disobeyed orders. Until you happened.

Bright eyed Sargent that was kind in the eyes yet deadly with your hands. Deadly in turning a cold hearted man into a soft teddy bear. Yet it wasn’t fast, it was slow for Ghost to start even talking to you. When you were introduced to the team Ghost felt that skip on his heart.

No.

That was his thought at first, no way in hell. You looked innocent, almost innocent enough to not even be here. You fit in pretty well, made jokes when things got heated, barked orders to privates, and skilled with your sniper. At first when talking to Soap you mentioned how you thought Ghost hated you. You would always try to talk to him, he would only respond if needed and when he didn’t really need to he would stare and nod.

It wasn’t until 2 months later both of you were ready and waiting for a heli. Watching cadets training on the tarmac, some of them having the worst time of their lives as the drill sergeant yelled at them. That’s when he leaned closer to you from the side. “What do you call a group of kids who enlists in the military,” You slowly looked up to him his eyes barring into your. “The INFANTry.”

You blinked a couple of times before chuckling. “That’s a good one. Why didn’t the troop tell anyone about their rank in the military,” Ghost looked up towards the team coming up. “It was PRIVATE.”

Ghost shook his head before walking away towards the group. After that he was more closer to you, both of you in sync at all times. He would eventually join the group during downtime, sitting next to you, or close to you. Ghost finally was able to talk to you not just about military things but also just random shit.

Ghost learning you love bourbon just like him. How you love meatloaf and he hated it without some cheese in the middle. Little did he know you surprised him by cooking him some and brought it to work. Ghost glared at you and you shrugged. “I’m alone Ghost I can’t eat all of it myself. So I split it.”

When he ate it, his heart sunk. It was like how his mom made it, almost the damn same just different seasoning. He stared at the food for moment grumbling to himself as he ate more.

Months later you came storming in. “Whats your deal?” You said slamming his office door.

Ghost snapped his head up glaring at you. Before he went back to his paperwork, you stood there for a moment. “Hello?” You asked walking to his desk placing your hands on it.

Ghost couldn’t look up to you, two nights ago he fucked up. Morbidly fucked up. The team was drinking late one night, having some drinks at a pub. Ghost felt it, the way you laughed, danced, teased him with your eyes.

There was tension that built the small touches from both of you. The glances. The tension in the air. Hell the team felt it as well, watching Ghost become more nicer towards you, subtle of course. They didn’t really notice until he would give compliments like “Not bad.” “Doing good Sargent.” Things that the Lieutenant wouldn’t say out loud.

When the night came to a slow down, you wanted to go home. It was just a couple of blocks, so why not walk you home. When reaching your apartment, Ghost looked down at you. His heart racing. Hands becoming wet. Your eyes just barring into his. “Thank you Ghost.” Ghost nodded once before you looked away. Both of you not moving. “Would you like to come in?”

After that you made tea, it was all over once your hand made a little touch of his. Clothes being thrown off, moans and pants being filled inside your apartment, skin to skin contact. It was a mistake. It was wrong. Yet it felt right. When you fell asleep he left.

His mind racing, Ghost never felt that way before. Wanting more. Loving it. Especially fucking his teammate. The only way to fix it, making sure they were apart. You noticed almost immediately, he would avoid, he would be gone instead of coming with the team. He even made sure that you wouldn’t be paired up with him.

Ghost longed more for you however, craved more. He missed your laugh, voice, hell even just your presence. He didn’t understand why it fucking scared him. So instead letting Simon take care of it he pushed him lower away. “You going to answer me or be a fucking coward.” You snapped leaning closer.

Fuck how he hated your determination, your spicy attitude. He snapped his head up. “Coward?” He questioned straightening up.

“What the sex was just what you needed? And instead of being an actual man you just push all of it,” He was silent glaring at you anger starting to course through his veins. “I thought we were at least fucking friends.”

Ghost laughed standing hp. “I don’t make friends kid.”

Kid. You rolled your eyes. “Bullshit. There is something deeper in that fucking heart of yours, you’re scared.”

Ghost scoffed. “‘M not scared.”

“Then look at me in the eyes.”

Ghost didn’t even notice that he wasn’t even looking at you. Yeah he was looking at you but not AT you. When he did his heart softened, sure there was anger but there was concern that were in your eyes. He kept looking between both of your eyes, not knowing what to do.

“I don’t know what I did to make you hate me but I want to be at least professional.” You shortly explained, trying to stuff the feeling that came up through your throat.

“Ya did nothin’.” He whispered.

For a couple hours you both sat some in silence some of him apologizing and explaining. Not too much into detail but enough to get his point across. You were patient, empathetic, letting him talk while you listened. Ghost slowly was taking bits of the wall that cover Simon, not enough right now but enough to know he wanted to see you more.

You agreed to keep it on the low, that it was just sex. Even though both of you deep down knew it wasn’t that. You would hang out, outside of work, be around each other, you even had him smile or laugh. Which was rare to see, the more you both got to know each other the more Ghost got comfortable.

One night when you both decided that going to star gaze in the middle of no where together. You shared a story about how your father would take you camping and do this all the time. He never talked about family and that was okay for you. He would just nod and listen. As you kept going you said Ghost for his name.

“Simon.” He mumbled looking at you, as you slowly turned your head from the sky. “My name is Simon.”

You carefully watched his eyes, learning how to know what he felt through them. He meant to say it he had to. “Simon.” You whispered.

Ghost nodded slowly before inhaling deeply. “Only you get to call me that when we’re alone ya?”

You nodded. “Of course.”

Months went by when slowly your things would be on his apartment. You were allowed to stay the night, cuddle, have dinner with. Never have you pressed on what both of you were, even though it was obvious. You offered to cook tonight as you moved around the kitchen.

Simon watched you as you bite your lip in concentration. His heart fluttering, he learned to love the feeling. Love to know that he could feel what he is feeling still. Simon walked over to you and wrapped his arms around you. You leaned up against him as you stir the pot of noodles.

“Smells good.” He mumbled mesmerized in the stir.

“Thank you.” You whispered looking up at him smiling.

You both stared for a moment. “Move in with me?” He asked having you place the spoon down and face him.

You smiled at him placing your hands on both of his cheeks, rubbing the balaclava. “I would love to Simon.”

Now he lays in bed as you were asleep. All the times you held him when he would wake up from a nightmare, once he got comfortable. One night it was the worst he had in years, he shot up sweat covering his side of the bed. Sticking to his clothes like a wet napkin. His breathing was rigid and hard, his heartbeat erratic.

He snapped his head to you and felt your pulse immediately, going slow and trying his best not to wake you either. It wasn’t his luck as you stirred. “Si?”

“Shh lovie go back to bed.” He whispered about to get up but felt your hand grab his wrist gently.

“Another one,” You sat up as you felt the sweat through his shirt. Saw how his hair clinging to his forehead. He looked away, shame through his veins. “Come here.” You whispered softly.

Simon shifted as he went between your legs and set his head on your stomach. You sat up to lean against the headboard as you rubbed his back and hummed a sweet melody, his breathing was regulated as he wrapped his arms tighter. It could have been hours, both of you laid like that. You said nothing but hummed and whispered sweet nothings to him.

“You died.” He suddenly said which almost made you jump, due to thinking he went to sleep.

“Oh.” You said stopping your stroked as your fingers went through his locks.

It went quiet again. “I can’t loose you.” he voice was lower tiredness creeping in.

You inhaled deeply, still playing with his scalp. “Simon you will never loose me. I’m right here, alive and well. I know it doesn’t make it any better but you can feel me right now.”

Simon sighed as you felt his body relax more. “I love you.”

You wanting to cry right then and there but didn’t. Held back the tears as you inhaled. “I love you too.”

~~~~~~~~

Never would Ghost be here. Standing at the end of an aisle hands shaking, Price came up to him placing a hand on his shoulder. “Ya know I knew you two for years before you told me?”

Simon turned to him smirking. “That right?”

“Soap, Gaz, and I bet on it. Then that year when y/n came to retire I asked her why and she told me that you were havin’ a kid.” Price smiled.

“Ya he won the pot.” Soap mumbled looking straight at the door.

Simon glared at all three of them. “The pot?”

“We bet ya were together but he bet pregnant AND together.” Gaz added looking at Price. “Fuckin’ cheater.”

Price chuckled as he nodded. “I know my crew is all.”

Simon sighed rubbing his eyes before he heard the soft music play. Snapping his head up. Never would Ghost be standing here. Oh but Simon is. He watched as a small child in a pink and white dress throw small petals on the ground. With the help of your sister. She had his eyes and your nose, his favorite your smile.

The child beamed as she saw him, giggling as she looked at the flowers and him. Never would Ghost be able to see that. Never would he even thought to have a child. When she reached him, her tiny body grabbed up to him as she hugged her and kissed her temple.

Then you came. You were beautiful in your white gown, smile beaming brighter than anything he has seen. You had tears and secretly he did too. He watched as your father walked you down. It was small aisle. Only your family and 141 that is all that we needed. When your dad handed you off to him he gripped Simon’s arm. “Thank you son.”

Never would Ghost would think someone would call him son again.

“Well princess,” Simon spoke looking at you. “My soulmate would be have to be ya mum.”

[burstinn]

I need more krueger fics (anything) 👉😔

Stalker x Stalker

(Part 1/?)

KRUEGER X M! READER

Notes And Warnings:

- Stalker x Stalker trope

- Stalking on both sides

- Masturbation and jerking off

1.To people without their awareness

2.To a dirty piece of cloth

- Sexual innuendos and thoughts

- NSFW

- no proofreading

- made in a short span of time meaning probably an hour or shorter so this is probably not the best way to yknow..

- made short on purpose because I got lazy

- This is a work of fiction made because I was bored, This should not be followed or replicated or else I will kill myself (>o<)

-made this cuz I didn't write for a good while and I felt bad

You don't know how this even started, He wasn't even acknowledging you the first time you guys met.. Was it his eyes? His accent? Maybe he reminded you of someone.. Shit you didn't care, you stopped caring for a long time now. It's an obsession at this point, You are hidden in your closet. You made a small hole inside of it like a secret room.. Just so you can keep trinkets and everything about.. Him.

Nothing but heavy breathing fills your cramped secret hole.. You need more pictures of him, this is getting out of hand, you're so desperate to feel him in some kind of fucking way it's unbelievable you held back for so long. Smelling one of the missing boxers of his wasn't enough to even satisfy you anymore.

Krueger, Sebastian Josef Krueger.. You scan your wall of pictures.. Pictures of him sleeping, working out, talking, eating, bathing.. Jerking off.. Those pictures were when you got lucky enough to take them and by God do you masturbate to those every night. Wishing one day you'd finally able to make him yours.. You know everything about him, His likes, his dislikes, his family, relatives, who he dislikes, what he does every morning and every night..

And recently you've only just started breaking into his room just to touch him, his face, tracing your finger tips against his jaw line, pressing your thumb against his soft lips.. Fuck,the thought of it makes you so hard.

But right now, you have a mission you need to attend to and the only thing that can calm your nerves is Krueger. Since you couldn't find him anywhere, Your shrine is the best place. You softly press your lips against one of the pictures of Krueger. One day, You will have the balls to actually try and talk to Krueger. You walk out of the closet, leaving with a slightly less grouchy mood. Hopefully the mission would go off without a hitch.

•~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~•

You're gone, The helicopter you got in with your other mates had just left and he watches intently and carefully to see that you actually did leave. Once he sees the heli leave the vicinity he wastes no time walking over to your room.. Not without precautions of course he made sure nobody saw him walk in there.

Fucking finally, Your room empty.. Everything in this room is just you, Your clothes, Your pictures, Your bed, your dirty laundry.

Krueger can't help but feel a short adrenaline rush come over him as makes his way to your desk which was right across from your bed.. He shuffles for a moment under the desk, pulling out a small camera.. He can't wait too watch this later, he doesn't care if you were doing nothing, reading a book, scrolling your phone, jerking off.. He didn't give a single shit he was gonna jerk off to whatever was recorded here anyway.

He pockets the camera, walking over to your bed and just.. Smelling, hugging everything.. You are so intoxicating. How could you do this to him? He knew it was wrong but he was in love, more than in love. Why else was he doing this? He loved everything about you.

Even if this obsession started over nothing special he didn't give a damn, what happened, happened and he's in love with you.

He stands up and grabs one of your dirty briefs from the hamper, making his way back to the bed laying back down and slowly lifting your brief to his nose. Krueger flinches his body getting hot just by the smell of you, He could just.. He shuts his eyes keeping your boxers to his nose.. His other hand shuffling to unbuckle his belt. His hard cock almost immediately throbbing out when he pulls his pants and boxers down.

He rips his gloves out of his hand with his teeth, slow breaths. His mind drifting off to you, naked on your bed.. Your cock out and lonely, desperate for his touch. Bothof you just whining and grunting out his name as you rubs your cocks together, moaning in each other's mouth, your tongues fighting against each other..

He didn't even notice he already came, his cum staining his uniform and on your bedsheets.. Goddamit, He promised himself he was supposed to make sure to not cum on your bed this time. He takes a breath, pocketing your brief as well as he gets up, zipping his pants up.. He should clean this.

Next time he'll be careful, It's only a miracle he doesn't get caught in your room while your sleeping, jerking off to your sleeping figure.

[littlemissclandestine]

Soft!Russell Adler x Reader pt.2

Note: Hello again my fellow Adler enjoyers! Just thought I'd add some more hcs because tbh this list is endless. He knows exactly how to treat a woman and you can't tell me otherwise. Look at him! GRAHHH!! Enjoy my lovelies... - Star ✰

🤎 Soft!Adler who has a habit of doing everything for you and you tell him to stop but he says that you've been a strong, independent woman all of your life and that it's one of the reasons he fell for you but now it's time for his girl to relax and enjoy life a little, and for you to let him take care of you

🤎 Soft!Adler who has the cutest pet names for you such as sweetheart, darlin', doll, honey, beautiful, gorgeous, tiger, princess etc

🤎 Soft!Adler who loves calling you his girl and gettin' all possessive

🤎 Soft!Adler who stands behind you while you're in front of a mirror as you're almost ready to go out, putting the necklace that he gifted you on for you, planting kisses on your neck, his hands tracing the outline of your body as he looks at you both in the mirror, in awe of you

🤎 Soft!Adler who always picks up your favourite things when he's out shopping and you're not with him, your likes and dislikes ingrained in his brain

🤎 Soft!Adler who understands your needs, both physical and emotional and fulfils them in a way that makes you adore him even more everyday

🤎 Soft!Adler who craves intimacy but denied it for far too long because of how his last relationship ended and underneath all of that bravado, America's monster needs to be reminded he is, in fact, human

🤎 Soft!Adler who takes time out and makes a conscious effort to visit your family when you finally introduce him even though it's something that makes him slightly nervous but he does it for you whether they like him or not

🤎 Soft!Adler who buys you flowers, chocolates, bath bombs etc. when you least expect it

🤎 Soft!Adler who makes you breakfast in bed during slow mornings, insisting he cleans up the plates and you have a nice soak, coming up to massage your scalp, scrub you gently and read a book to you as you hang your arms over the edge of the tub, your chin resting on top of your hands, listening intently

🤎 Soft!Adler who catches a whiff of your scent on his shirt or jacket at work, smiling to himself, leaning back in his chair as he remembers how you wore it the day before and he closes his eyes, inhaling it once more before getting back to his job

🤎 Soft!Adler who lets you apply his war paint for him on missions

🤎 Soft!Adler who offers to give you massages, claiming he is an expert and nobody would pass up on it, not even Woods or Mason

🤎 Soft!Adler who secretly loves skin on skin

🤎 Soft!Adler who picks you up bridal style or throws you over his shoulder whenever he feels like it, carrying you around the house

🤎 Soft!Adler who kisses every part of you that you don't love and cherishes it because he knows the pain of low self esteem and in his eyes, every inch of you is beautiful

🤎 Soft!Adler who opens car doors and pulls out chairs for you like a proper gentleman would

🤎 Soft!Adler who playfully smacks your ass when nobody's looking as you're boarding a heli or getting into a SUV if you work together

🤎 Soft!Adler who admires you for who you are and feels inspired by you, making him want to be a better person, not just for him but for you

🤎 Soft!Adler who won't get up and move when you've fallen asleep on him, even if his limbs are feeling numb, out of fear of disturbing you

🤎 Soft!Adler who's only vulnerable with you

🤎 Soft!Adler who tells you how you make him feel alive again after all of the trauma he has endured over the years due to the requirements of his job and the toll it takes on him, no matter how much he denies the extent of it

🤎 Soft!Adler who always wonders if he's doing right by you, how he managed to pull a girl like you in the first place, if you'd stay in his life no matter how long he's away for, how hard it gets and if you'd accept his hand in marriage when, not if, the time comes

🤎 Soft!Adler who lets his tears fall when he finally gets to see you walk down the aisle

dividers by @chachachannah <33

[piratesfromspace]

After the rain (141xReader)

Pairing: Reader x Soap (& implied Reader x 141)

Rated: Mature

Word count: 900

Summary: After being kidnapped and rescued, Rain needs to make sure Soap is still alive

Note: In the same universe as my "Rain or Shine" fic, it is the epilogue of the part 4. Some people requested this chapter, and I was happy to write a little something to offer some comfort to our poor Soap. Reader callsign is "Rain", she's bi and autistic (I am autistic myself).

Content: angst, hurt/comfort, aftermath of torture, medical setting, happy ending (kinda)

MASTERLIST // PART 1 // PART 2 // PART 3 // PART 4

Rain has a hard time opening her eyes. She’s not quite sure where she is, she’s slow to wake up, her brain still foggy from the sleeping pills. But then she moves in the bed, and everything starts hurting. Her muscles are so sore, bruises are painfully blooming under her scratched skin. Her head is heavy, throbbing. She feels like she’s been run over by a humvee. With the pain, everything comes back to her in a second. She rises with a gasp, a shot of adrenaline wringing her guts to the point she thinks she’s gonna puke. 

The light of day is peaking through the half-opened curtains of her room. She’s back on base, and everything is so vividly painful she’s sure it can’t be a dream. The memory of the past few days invades her - their capture, Johnny’s sacrifice to protect her, her crawling on the floor to rest her cheek against his bloody leg when their captor finally stopped. The sudden thought that Soap might not have survived the torture is suffocating her, she can’t breathe, it’s breaking her mind and her heart. Last she saw him he was laying on the heli floor surrounded by medics. 

A flash of white in the corner of her eyes attracts her attention when she finally gathers enough strength to get out of her bed. There is a crisp white strip of paper on her night-stand. It only says “he’s OK” in black ink, and she instantly recognizes Simon’s angular writing. Soap has made it. Tears wet her cheeks without her realizing she’s crying. 

—-

She tucks her fists inside the pocket of her hoodie. A black one that belongs to one of the boys, she can’t really tell which one. She keeps her head down, doesn’t want to cross the panicked gaze of colleagues at her face. She’s sporting various scratches, a mean bruise on the side of her jaw, her skin has a sickly yellow-ish undertone - she looks like shit and she knows it. 

She crosses the base in a hurried bee-line for the medical bay. She probably should call up her captain for further instruction, report to debrief or go see a doctor. But the only thing on her mind is finding Soap. She had always liked him - it was hard not to, he was funny, kind, quite handsome, always laughing. But she knew that he was growing obsessed with her, and it had frightened her at first. Situations like those could easily delve into unpleasant territories for everyone involved. Except it was Soap, smart-ass Soap, kind-hearted Soap, and he made it work even when it was obvious he was sad Rain had chosen Simon instead of him. After Siberia, things didn't really change, they rather shifted. The group was tighter, Rain was not shy with her attraction to the other guys, with her attraction to him. She let Johnny more into her bubble, into her heart. 

And here she is, the wet tracks of tears drying on her cheeks as she leaps through long corridors in search of Soap, when she should get checked for her own injuries, when she should maybe not stay alone like this. Her brain is still drowning in diluted stress hormones and the end trail of painkillers, the mix giving her a distant headache that will probably force her down in a couple hours. For now, she persists. 

When she finally finds him, she’s simultaneously disappointed and relieved to find him alone. Ghost, Gaz and Price must be somewhere else, maybe they just went out for a quick break. She doesn’t know how much time she has on her own with Soap, before someone, a nurse, or one of the boys, comes back. He looks like he’s sleeping. Bandages are wrapped around all his visible limbs, snaking around fingers, his wrists, part of his right arm. Around his head also, his already short hair clearly shaved for access to wounds. One of his eyes is hidden by a plastic shell. His lips are swollen, split in a few places. Skilled hands have been at work here, in dressing his wounds, wiping out dried blood, setting up electrodes and drips. It’s easy to forget how simple it is to destroy, and how labor-intensive it is to heal. The regular bip of the heart monitor is the thing that prevents her from spiraling further down. Alive. Her sergeant is alive. No need to explore the devastating thought of him being gone. 

She climbs on the bed, finds a place against him. His warmth makes her want to cry again. Her own scratched fingers hover over his cheekbones - the skin there is purple - then over his neck, she needs to feel his pulse under her scorched skin. Alive. She tucks her face next to his shoulder, tries to find the familiar smell under the antiseptic. Rain holds him the best she can without risking hurting him more, and decides that’s all she wants to do for the time being. 

That’s how the boys find them when they arrive some time after that. They had been looking for her after Simon had discovered her empty bed. They weren’t really scared. They knew she would be here. Where else? They swore to take care of each other - and that’s what they will keep doing, no matter what.

MASTERLIST

[butterfly-stitches]

BLUE MONDAYS.

[ Mature ]

AO3

Masterlist

Pairings: Russell Adler x Bell, Russell Adler x Reader Russell Adler & Bell, Russell Adler & Lawrence Sims, Bell & Lawrence Sims, Russell Adler & Helen A. Park

Warnings: Brainwashing 🧠 Psychological Torture 🧠 Torture 🧠 Mind Manipulation 🧠 Medical Experimentation 🧠 False Memories 🧠 Flashbacks 🧠 Loss of Identity 🧠 Prisoner of War 🧠 Medical Torture 🧠 Medical Inaccuracies 🧠 Military Inaccuracies 🧠 Vietnam War 🧠 Propaganda 🧠 Pining 🧠 Crush at First Sight 🧠 Unresolved Romantic Tension 🧠 Unresolved Sexual Tension 🧠 Older Man/Younger Woman 🧠 Developing Friendships 🧠 Possibly Unrequited Love 🧠 Stockholm Syndrome 🧠 Denial of Feelings 🧠 Pre-Canon 🧠 POV Second Person > Other Additional Tags to Be Added <

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Chapter 2: rewind the clock.

Words: 7,535 Summary: In which you are tried …

We’ve known each other for years. Fought together, bled together. Been through the hell of Vietnam together.

Together.

Together…

=========================================

— Script 01 —

=========================================

You remembered when you first met him. All those years ago.

You were fresh off the huey; jet-lagged, motion sick and completely exhausted. The majority of your morning had been spent by long, draining hours of travel. With nothing to do but to sit still in your heli seat and mindlessly stare out beyond to leagues and leagues of endless jungle. You had grown restless during it; uncomfortable and fidgety. It was not in your nature to be so inactive and stationary for so long, although it was only for now.

Even so, it was grueling for you. Zoochosis for a captive animal, idle hands for a person with calloused palms. Your tailbone ached, your muscles stiffened. The earmuffs of the aviation headset were starting to make your ears hurt. The sound of static in your eardrums echoed in your head. But it was the only thing that blocked out the chopping winds and sounds of the rotor blades from the open cabin. Hours of constant travel that felt stagnant, stuck in a never ending loop. Trapped in a limbo of an all-encompassing jungle. A glue trap for vermin such as you. And it was all beginning to drive you mad. 

There came a sudden drop in your gut, a rising crest of nausea. Then all at once, the irrational feeling of claustrophobia. As the urgency to escape from the cramped feeling of your helicopter coursed throughout your body. Bile was in the back of your throat, a burning pain behind your eyes. You stood up, gripping the handrails tightly as you swayed on the edge from shooting up from your seat so quickly. Heels just on the precipice of the open cabin’s fuselage. Winds howling all around you, whipped against your face as you stared out. The panoramic blur of jungle greenery was starting to pull you in like a gravity wellspring, a riptide. Maw open to swallow you whole. 

A traitorous thought, a nipping need. From a desperation that entailed recklessness. Muscles primed to take the plunge and jump out. Alarm bells drowning out all logical thinking, overwhelmed instead by the fight-or-flight instinct. To run, to escape. Escape? Escape from what? 

You didn't know.

(Oh, but you do. Don’t you? Deep down where the wounds are still fresh. Nothing forgets the feel of teeth and claws.) 

There came a crackling of voices in your headset between the pilots and air control. It was incomprehensible in your current state, too stuck in your own headspace to fully grasp what was said. But you knew what it meant, you were close to your destination. Closer still to being out of the air and off the helicopter. Your eyes shut as you leaned your head to the side against your forearm, and took lungfuls of air. A process to breath out the feelings that beset you. To calm the turbulence in your head and ease away the tension in your limbs. You opened your eyes. And there, you saw it. Right as it bloomed on the horizon in the far distance. A single splotch of civilization among all the wilderness. One you recognized from your dossier. Your reassignment, your new place of conduct.

Camp Haskins. 

A base built on top of an excavated and flattened peninsula. Jungle and hilltops in the distance. A boundless murky lake surrounded it all. With wide winding rivers slithering through the expanse of overgrown verdure. Sunbeams streamed through the plies of clouds across a clear blue sky, reflecting off the water surface in an sparkling array like that of a shining prism. Hypnotizing, entrancing.

(But you could see past the surface level beauty, can’t you? Look closely, to where all the ugliness and madness lies just beneath the skin. To the false ideology that poisons the land. The hearts and the minds.)

Like ants, the shapes of soldiers and personnel were all but small dots beneath the view from your huey hovering above. You were eventually forced to sit as it started to slowly descend downwards to a stretch of land serving as a makeshift airstrip. From your view above there were other helicopters sat aside on dirt spots lined with sandbags and grass patches. Their rotor blades spun idly like weathervanes, disturbed by the sudden dusty squalls generated by the wing blades of your own.

As your steel bird landed amid the rest of the flock, without a moment of delay, your boots met the ground. Legs shaky like a fawn’s, duffle bag over your shoulder. Hot dust swirled around you, the harsh glare of the sun was in your eyes. And you squinted, shielding your face with your forearm from it all. But all you felt was relief. Eased by the feel of solid ground underneath your feet. From the cloudiness, a marshaller ducked underneath the helicopter blades. The aviation helmet and clouds of dust obscured his features. Voice muffled by the hum of the chopper blades but you understood his gestures. 

He led you toward the outskirts where a Lieutenant awaited your arrival. Silent and stoic in the shadow of one of the roosting helicopters. You were greeted with nothing more than a curt nod and a firm handshake. No formal introductions or debriefs given. But his face said it all. Apathetic and haggard, thin mouth pressed tight. You were taken aback by the abrupt unfriendliness. You weren’t expecting any enthusiastic reception, or even a warm welcome by any means, but it seemed your arrival wasn’t as big of a deal as described to you. Mannerisms and rectitude… just civil things chipped away and lost to the jungle. He walked off ahead of you, away from the airfield and towards the entrance of the base. And you followed wordlessly. 

But as you both reached the threshold of the base entrance, your steps began to slow until you eventually stopped in place. Wiping away sweat that already began to coat your skin. Your eyes went to the flagpole at the foot of the entrance gate, right along the barbed wire fencing. And up to where the sounds of whipping fabric snapped in the breeze. Above you, the star spangled banner soared. Something in you stirred at the sight of it, staring up at the domestic colors of red-white-and-blue. Of the stars and stripes in the air. You were attentive to it as it waved at you. Saluting to the soldier inside and out. Seeing those colors fly above was more of a welcome than anything, something sickly familiar. 

But the longer you stared at it, the more something began to brew within you. An itch in the recesses of your mind as you tried to remember. A jolt shot down your spinal cord and your skin crawled. Something about it felt off.

(Don’t you see it? Look closely. To the false ideology that poisons the land. The hearts and the minds.) 

Seeing those colors fly above you… 

Was as sickly familiar just as it was sickly foreign to you. 

The American flag distorted like a glitch, hemorrhaged before your very eyes. The red stripes bled. Poured out like cuts on the skin, staining the fabric darker. Until it was red, red, red. Soaked in sin, bathed in bloodshed. With only the taste of iron and rot to overload your senses. Of lies being force fed to you. Slowly, by the spoonful; easily masticated, easily digestible. 

Sluicing rivulets of burning scarlet trickled down onto the dirt below, pouring out before your feet like flood waters. But before the spillage could wash over your boots, you stepped back. As disembodied, high-pitched screams came from all around you in all directions, from everywhere all at once. Pressure expanded in your head, a ringing hummed in your ears. And all you could do was look around aimlessly as your surroundings began to fade away. As if the world around you had been sepia-stained all along. Saturated and grainy like living through a photograph. Snapshots hung in darkrooms, pictures pinned onto cork boards. 

There came another itch in the recesses of your mind, a jolt down your spinal cord once more. As an omnipresence settled in your head. With it came a cacophony that surged forward. A thousand voices that spoke with the power of one, loud and sharp in your ringing ears. Someone called to you, words unintelligible. Muffled as if spoken underwater. Until it grew louder and clearer. 

The voice called out again. And you blinked. 

Slowly, heavily. As if you just remembered you could.

You turned towards the voice. Craned your head towards the entrance of the base where the Lieutenant stood. Visibly confused and on the border of being concerned. Your eyes flicked back up to the flag, only to see that it was as it was before. Red-white-and-blue, American colors blowing in the wind. Your tongue swiped across your chapped lips and a coppery taste seeped into your mouth. You lifted your hand up, pulling it back to see blood smeared on your fingertips. A nosebleed, small and just beginning to congeal. You wiped away the trickle of blood with the inside of your sleeve. Gave one last look at the stars and stripes above before falling back in line. 

Following right after the Lieutenant. Who only remained quiet as he led you through Camp Haskins. Stealing occasional glances over his shoulder at you. You brushed off his looks however, taking in the new sights and sounds of your new workplace. The FOB was bigger than what you anticipated. Uncounting for the expansive area of its grounds and perimeter that was more like a campground than just a resting campsite. Made of wooden pallet walls, metal sheets, stacked sandbags, barbed wire, and chain link fencing. Built from the ground up, Camp Haskins was a foothold in the predacious jungles of Vietnam. A paradise in the hellscape. A somewhere in the middle of nowhere. 

And here, in such a place, you stuck out like a gangrened limb. 

Eyes were on you, curious and watchful. Whispering to each other. Peeking out from the surrounding rows of field tents and makeshift pallet sheds. Sheltering away from the sweltering heat of the afternoon sun. Listening to cheery vinyls in the background to dilute the silent suffering that simmered over the campsite. But how could they not stare? You were fresh meat among the butchered bunch, just another body for the grinder. Just another cog for the machine. But you weren’t just some starry-eyed recruit straight out of bootcamp. Just as young, yes. But far more seasoned. Having had your fair share of field and combat experience. As well as a honed skill set based in subterfuge, intel gathering, linguistics, encryption and decryption — more specifically, cryptanalysis and cryptography. 

Your experience and expertise were why you were here. And why you were reassigned to this place. 

(A new change of scenery, a new set of challenges. A sacrificial lamb in a slaughterhouse. You belonged here rightfully, did you not?)

Even so, there was an efflux of uneasiness -- an acetic mix of both nerves and nausea. Lingering after effects from your journey here. But you remained composed. Unreactive to the looks and stares from the other soldiers. Quiet as a field mouse while you followed behind the Lieutenant on a plank path between the field tents. Head down, eyes averted. Focused instead to the sounds of your footsteps on the boards. 

The wooden footpathing eventually cut past a gun range. Targets, crates, barrels, wood paneling and sandbags set up at different distances and positions. Behind cover and out in the open. A group of men watched from the sidelines underneath the shade of the camouflage net hanging over the shooting booths. Because of the rising temperature, some were shirtless. Others were still in their jungle fatigues with their collars opened wide and sleeves pulled up as far up as they could go. Instructors and quartermasters lingered nearby, observing the attempts and watching for progress.  

From what you could gather it was a shooting exercise or rather a friendly competition. Soldiers cheered on as one of the participants standing behind the firing line quickly took shots at the targets. Missing more than a few, before his aim steadied a bit. But he wasn’t quick enough as a stopwatch rang out, signaling the end of his attempt. You slowed your stride and took a moment to watch. Analyzing and surveying. Your eyes focused on the next participant that stepped forward. A stocky man with a buzzcut, wearing a stained wife beater. A rifle hung over his shoulder casually, as if it was an accessory more than a necessity. He audibly scoffed at the time set by his fellow competitor, a cocky grin on his face. A deliberate display that caught the attention of the shooting instructors.

“What? Think you can do better, Miller?” One of them said.

The man’s grin only widened in response. “More than better, sir.” 

Some of the men behind him laughed. More in agreement than doubt. Laughing with him rather than at him. From the crowd, you watched another soldier stride forward, clapping Miller on the shoulder with a hearty laugh. Then threw an arm around his neck, tugging him close like one would a younger brother.

“Gotta watch out for this one, Staff Sergeant. Fought off a whole ambush of those Vietnamese bastards down in the ridge. And all by himself.”

“Heard Miller did it all with just one mag left.” Another piped in, miming an assault rifle in his hands and taking aim at invisible enemies. “One shot, one kill.”

“Got them damn Vietnamese runnin’ at the sight of ‘im.”

The instructor only rolled his eyes, arms across his chest. “Didn’t know you had cheerleaders, Private.”

“Yeah. The best damn cheer team in ’Nam, sir. Just need some short skirts and pom-poms then it’ll feel just like home.”

Miller winked and the other men burst out in laughter much to the Staff Sergeant’s clear annoyance. By the way his lips flatten into a scowl.

“This ain’t high school football, son.” He said, stepping closer. Glaring down at the still smug Private inches from his face. “Just get your ass to the shooting stall. We’ll see just how good you are at killin’, Team Captain.”

Miller stood up straighter in a salute, a small smirk rising in the corner of his mouth. 

“Yessir.” 

But you didn’t get the chance to see the Private’s attempt at the marksman challenge. Having to hurry past the firing range instead. Just to catch up in time before he disappeared in the bustle. Only the echo of rapid gunshots and sounds of cheering were heard behind you. You were led further into the base’s center to a cluster of temper tents and pop-up canopies. It was busier this time of day. Personnel went in and out of the field tents carrying manila folders and field reports. Squads of soldiers prepared themselves for the field, packing up their ammunition and filling up their water canteens for the day. 

While other soldiers sat underneath tarpaulin awnings that sufficed as an open-air mess hall of sorts. Full of endless chatter and laughing, and the scratching sounds of cutlery on metal platters. Scraping their plates clean, not leaving any morsel or crumb. From it came the smell of hot chow wafting in the air: chicken, pork chops, vegetables, rice, and boiled legumes. Being seared on flat top grills, served from their pots and pans onto wood tables. Even though you haven’t eaten since the early morning of your departure, the pungent smells of lunch only intensified the queasiness you felt. Your nausea hadn't diminished nor had your nerves. Even now as you were led to one of the canopy tents ahead. 

Beyond the green tarp flap, a small gathering lingered inside. Surrounding a circular table, discussing quietly between themselves. But only to go dead silent as the Lieutenant approached the mouth of the tent with you in tow. From what you could tell they were all higher officers if their insignia patches and uniforms were anything to go by. But between them all, standing at the head of the table, the base commander eyed you both intensely. Stalwart, serious. Stiff postured. With sheared hair the color of polished gunmetal.

The Lieutenant was the first to proceed. Stepped forward and saluted the whole tent full of higher-ups with a polite ‘sir’. Standing so perfectly at attention it was like he was back in formation. With a simple gesture of dismissal, the gathering dispersed. Filing out of the tent like a row of waddling ducks. Walking past you as if you weren’t even there. 

“Lieutenant Weiss,” The base commander nodded.

An acknowledgement more than a greeting. But his eyes were quick to land back on you. Standing a few feet behind the other soldier. 

“Thank you, Lieutenant. I’ll take it from here. You are dismissed.” He said, without turning his attention away from you.

Lieutenant Weiss moved aside, giving you one final glance before shouldering past you. You straightened your spine, conceding the superior’s seniority with a salute of your own. The base commander rounded the table and walked forward just as your arm fell to your side. He let the silence linger a bit longer between you two. Only made you shift your weight on your heels. But eventually he spoke, narrowing his gaze at you. 

Disappointedly, you came to realize. 

“So you’re the person I’ve been waiting all day for.” 

The base commander looked you up and down for a moment, sizing you up. Processing your presence. Underwhelmed by first impressions. 

“Hm, you’re not what I expected. Hell, you don't even seem to fit the damn bill. The way they hold you up as some sort of mastermind prodigy I expected well… more.” 

He let his words settle. You knew he awaited a reply. To bite back and dissuade any doubts given about yourself or your skillset. You thought you would. At least disagree with him. But nothing rose, nothing conjured up. 

“If I didn’t know any better I’d say they sent me the wrong person for the job. But if there’s anything I learned over the years it's that taking someone at face value will only be a disservice in the long run.”

The commander sighed out more wearily than was intended as his composure fell. But he was swift to stiffen his shoulders again and correct his posture. “I’m sure I don't need to give you the rundown of things. You know what needs to be done and what is required of you. You’ll be working closely with Russell Adler.”

Something in you stirred, writhing. 

The details of your debrief were foggy. But the name seemed awfully distinct. Too familiar. Like an old wound, there came a phantom pain. Skin prickled and cold sweat gathered down your spine. Empty traces of memories came and went. Too convoluted and obscure; too fleeting to fully grasp. Washed away like silt in a rushing stream.

“Adler?” You repeated. Whisper-like from your sudden breathlessness. Such a name carried weight. But on your tongue, it felt like an imprecation. 

“Correct, you’ll be assigned to his team and will take direct orders from him from now on.” He eyed you, “Is that a problem?”

You paused, taken aback by the question. Licking your dry lips, you shook your head. “Of course not, sir.”

“Good. The man's a damn bastard. He’s got a particular way of doing things but he’ll bring out that potential in you I’m sure.”

From the way he paused again, the commander intended to elaborate more. But the sound of revving engines and heavy wheels crunching on dirt gravel behind the tent cut through the conversation.

“Speak of the Devil.” The commander said, chuffing out a dry laugh. You turned your attention back to him as he walked forward. Stopping in the entry of the tent and then turned to you. 

“Let's hope you exceed expectations.” 

With that, the base commander stepped outside of the tent. And a second later, you did the same. Followed behind him closer than you did Lieutenant Weiss as he walked between the rows of tents and onto a dirt road directly behind them. A convoy of vehicles were parked on the sidelines along the fencing. Offloading platoons that jumped off from the backs of them. Tired, sweaty, and dirty. Returning back from the field. 

The commander stopped walking and you stood beside him as he scanned the soldiers across the way. 

“Adler!” He barked out toward a group of soldiers hopping out from one of the vehicles in the back of the convoy. In that loud, stern military tone that made the other soldiers stop and grow stiff. 

From the drove of soldiers, a silhouette emerged in the afternoon sun. And you faltered. Stunned suddenly by a concentrated sun glare. You shielded your face. Crushed your eyelids together, flinching away from the brightness. While the sound of heavy boots on the gravelled road stalked forward, getting closer and closer. 

Until the footsteps came to a stop in front of you both.

In the glare of the sun stood an imposing figure. Tall and broad-shouldered. Framed entirely by an angelic glow that seemed to suffuse into your surroundings. Blinding, nauseatingly bright. It was hard to look up. Like the onset of an eclipse, it hurt to stare too long. 

“Colonel.” Greeted a velvety voice; sonorous and smooth like silk. 

And your stomach twists. A dread, unprofound.

(Nothing forgets the feel of teeth and claws.)

His large shadow fell over you, blocking out the sun. Still you struggled to see. Your eyesight bleached white. You blinked over and over, slowly opening your eyes. Squinting hard as everything started to take shape around you. Subsequently, gradually, the figure grew clearer. Stinging, watery eyes yet you braved a look. A single glance. 

And all at once the world seemed to fall away, time itself slowed. Face-to-face with the man himself. 

Russell Adler.

Dressed in olive green fatigues that reeked of the jungle. Sweat, gunpowder, mud and rancid water. Overtaken now by the stench of a lit cigarette balanced between his lips. The residual smoke caught in your sinuses, filling your lungs like a house fire. Instinctively, your eyes went straight to his. Only to meet the mirrored lenses of sunglasses perched on a strong Roman nose. Eyes hidden, though it didn’t shield you away from the intensity of his gaze. Or the asphyxiating feeling it churned deep inside your fickle, feeble ribs. To a rabbit heart that thumped wildly against its bone cage. Overcome with instinctual fear.

“Adler,” The base commander nodded, hands clasped behind his back. “Brought you something.”

Smoke fell from the man’s parted lips. 

“Hm, better smokes?” 

“A new member of your team.” The commander corrected. “I trust you’ll be accommodating.”

Adler took a puff of his half-smoked cigarette. Your reflection stared back at you in his dark lenses. A shiver shot down your spine like an ice spike, hair raised at your nape. As the corner of his lips rose into a small smile. 

“I’ll be sure to find good use for ’em, sir.”

“That’s what I like to hear.” He looked between you both. “I expect results.” You felt the commander’s ironclad stare on you as the finality left his mouth. Aimed at you deliberately. 

Adler grumbled a low prusten, cigarette burning between his fingers. 

With that, the commander stepped away. Within seconds of leaving, he was already pulled into other business. Guided away towards the field tents and lost into the crowd. Leaving you alone with Adler. You shuffled on the balls of your feet. As a tense silence befell you both. A beat came and went, then he moved. A body shift that made your head immediately shoot up, body tensed, startled by the movement. 

Adler tilted his head to the side. Motioning for you to follow as he sauntered off. You watched him go, unable to move yourself. Feet rooted to the ground, limbs made of lead. When he noticed that you weren’t behind him, Adler stopped and turned. Eyebrows knitted together in a questioning look. 

“You coming or what, kid?” He asked.

You stared at him for a moment. Sun beating down on you, exposed to it now with the absence of his shadow. You took an uneven breath. Despite yourself, despite your gut feeling, you stepped forward and followed him. 

(How easily you are led astray, alongside a wolf in sheep’s clothing. Your fate is sealed. You walk with death now.) 

The crowd between the tents parted into two, leaving a clear and undisturbed path for Adler as he strode on through. You trailed behind Adler, lingering with enough interspace put between you and him to not lose track of him while also remaining at a safe distance. Eyes were on you both, curious and watchful. Whispering to each other. Peeking out from the surrounding tents and makeshift pallet sheds. Sheltered away from the high noon sun. Vinyls played cherry sweet songs in the background to omit the unabating melancholy and despair of Camp Haskins. But how could they not stare? 

Like you, Adler wasn’t exempt from the attention of other soldiers. But unlike you, the looks and whispers given were derived more from admiration and camaraderie. You saw the way they looked at him. How they reacted to him and greeted him. With nods and smiles, waves and whistles; such simple recognitions to him. But to you, it spoke volumes. Adler was a man that was well-respected, well-received. And not to be taken lightly. 

Adler slowed at open tents ahead. Stopping just before the mouth of one of the open tents, peering over his shoulder to make sure you were still behind him. Boisterous laughter and talking echoed from inside making you uneasy. Reluctantly you followed Adler inside. A group of men were strewn around the interior. Sat on cots, wood boxes and ammo boxes. Leaned on tables and against stacked crates. Half-quart beer cans and whiskey bottles gathered on a table top in the center where a card game was currently taking place. 

Poker, you realized.

“Adler! Just the man we’ve been waiting on! Nice of you to finally join us. Was worried you got caught up in some more bullshit.” 

Adler only hummed, cigarette idle in his hand. 

“Well, it doesn’t seem like you did much waiting.” Adler gestured to the empty cans and bottles, then took a slow drag of his cigarette. “I see you got the party goin’ without me, Sims.”

“Yeah, well. Better to get it started than to sit around, twiddling our thumbs and waiting on you. S’like I said, I thought you —”

The man, Sims, went quiet when he finally noticed you. As did the rest of the tent. An uncomfortable moment passed before the man let out a laugh. 

“So I was right. You did get caught up in some bullshit.”

Adler’s gaze narrowed, blowing out a rush of smoke. “Always the brazen type, Sims.”

The man, Sims, only shrugged with a wide smile, folding his hand. The action made the other players stop their staring and resume the game. “So… this the ‘new one’ then?”

“Something like that. Gonna be working with us from now on.” Adler declared. Spoke more to everybody in the tent than to just Sims.

“Goin’ to show ’em around. Try not to lose all your chips while I’m gone, Sims.”

“Got no faith in me, Doc. Just one good hand and I’ll win it all. You’ll see.”

But Adler wasn’t convinced. 

He led you back out of the tent, crushing the finished cigarette with the twisting of his boot heel. Still you kept distance between you both, trailing a few paces behind. 

“Welcome to Camp Haskins. Our little oasis in the middle of this godforsaken shitstorm.” 

Adler introduced so casually that you couldn't take any other way but derisive, acrid. Nonetheless, he showed you the basic layout of the base. Pointed out what everything was and where everything was located, various facilities and all. But you barely categorized a lot of them. Occupied instead by him, by his presence. Watching, ever observant. The nature of espionage was instinctual to you. At this distance, at arm’s length, you couldn’t help but take in the sight of the man in front of you, despite yourself. Caution thrown to the wind. But you were simple in some regards; no one was immune to charisma. So you looked and stared, just like the other soldiers did. 

Adler was the embodiment of an all American man. Clean-shaven, square-jawed, and… ruggedly handsome — despite the obstruction of his shades. His disheveled helmet hair was brushed to the side in a semblance of a groomed hairstyle. The color of it was burnished by the sun until it burned like an aureole, a crown of light. 

(But you could see past the surface level beauty, can’t you? Look closely, to where all the ugliness and madness lies just beneath the skin.)

But the glory and gore of war was already skin deep. Into the trenches of a weathered face where camouflage paint was slashed across hardened features, smudged now by sweat and grime. It was nothing less of a battle-hardened, war worn soldier. There was beauty, there was madness in him. You saw it as Adler led you to your sleeping quarters, a tent shared with other soldiers. Even now as he bid you a farewell so you could get adjusted, unpack and get some rest for what tomorrow would bring. You laid in your hard army cot, your duffle bag untouched in the corner. Overwhelmed with a wave of exhaustion like you had stayed up for days. 

You closed your eyes and dreamed of death.

◼◼◼◼◼◼◼◼◼◼◼◼◼◼◼◼◼◼◼

It was getting hard to breathe.

No matter how much you wiped away the sweat streams and matted strands from your face. Took gulps from your canteen or pulled up your sleeves. The suffocation remained. 

You were only a couple kilometers into the jungle and already you felt its bite. Cascades of sweat were already sheening on your skin, gathered on your brow. And already your uniform started to feel like a second skin, clinging to you from all the clamminess. You thought yourself prepared mentally and physically. But your debrief or specified training didn’t fully prepare you for this sort of misery. Of an inescapable and persistent humidity that didn’t take long to sink its teeth in you. A sweltering heat insulated by the density of all the trees. Canopies that were heavily intertwined in growth like tapestry; their branches woven together so tightly that they were indistinguishable from each other.

You weren’t the only one affected. So were the rest of Adler’s team. 

From their footslogging, they were as miserable as you were. But they endured and continued, without a complaint or slowing down. So you did the same and kept on walking further into an endless jungle without an end in sight. But it wasn’t just for nothing that was for certain. You remembered earlier. Hours before. When Adler had arrived at your tent to fetch you in the morning. Seemingly surprised that you were wide awake and already dressed. 

“You’re up early. Thought’d you be out cold.” Adler had commented while he walked you to the open-aired mess hall. “Hope you got decent sleep, we’ve got a job to do.”

You had sat at the same table as Adler’s team albeit at the far end of the table bench. Spacing still kept, at arm's length to everyone. No one had commented on the distance you put between everyone, especially him. But you didn't eat breakfast. That feeling in your gut had stayed and so had the nausea. You weren’t keeping up with the conversations. Only bits and pieces: how Sims lost all his chips last night then again by no other than Adler, how the eggs and ham tasted like rubber, or even how hot it always quickly gets. Mindless chatter to pass the time. 

“Hutch and his boys got ambushed down by the ridge while out on yesterday’s patrol.” Adler had told everyone after breakfast. “That piece of land’s a prime piece of real estate. Too valuable to give up. Got orders to zap ’em. So gear up. We leave within the hour.”

You had followed steps behind Sims and some other members towards a provisional tent to stock up on ammunition. 

“Heard Hutch got hit during the entire thing.” Sims had said. 

“Yeah and got his ass saved by a single stripe Private.” One of the members had added, but you couldn’t make out which one. 

“Think it's enough to send him back home?”

Another member had shook his head. “Nah, it's a through and through. They’ll have him back in the field within the month I reckon.”

You all had met Adler within the hour, on the dot. He was dressed in jungle fatigues, ammo, grenades and the rest of his gear strapped to his utility vest. M16 cradled in his hands, a boonie hat on his head. Tiger stripes across his face and arms. Without delay, all of you had gone to the airfield and hopped on a helicopter. A short ride later, you had been dropped off miles away from the destination. You and Adler’s team would have to trek the rest of the way there. 

The assignment had seemed simple enough then. Go to the ridge, eliminate the enemy, and make it back just in time for dinner. But nothing was ever so simple in the hellscape of the Vietnam jungle you would soon come to realize. Adler took point, Sims at his right, and you at the back. Covering the team’s flank. But together you all moved as one through the underbrush. Carefully and silently, slow and steady. Wary for any booby traps and trip mines even this far out in the jungle. But you were all close to the ridge. 

Still, the heat was getting to you. More than you thought possible. In the silence of the jungle, you heard it. Beneath the ambiance, in the background of you and the team’s trampling through the undergrowth. Voices in the trees. Smudges of shadow just beyond the treeline where the eye could barely see. Watching, waiting. For the perfect opportunity. Then beeps, a loud beeping. Like a ticking clock, a heartbeat. Your own? No, you recognized the sound. Of a hospital room, medical machines monitored in tandem. Then something softer. Wind chimes, the gentle ringing from a belfry in the far, far distance. 

You wiped the sweat from your brow. Head pounding. . You placed a hand against a tree, but you didn't feel the rough texture, instead it felt papery and painted underneath your fingers. Like paper mache. And the undergrowth brushed against your arms, was nothing but fabric and plastic. You blinked. The jungle changed before your eyes, dissolving like an illusion. And all you saw was white. White walls, white flooring. A hallway. The sterile scent of peroxide and bleach. Shadows behind windows, peering through. Watching, waiting. You walked faster, panic and confusion fueled your steps. But the hallway grew longer, endless. You weren’t allowed to leave just yet.  

Until you collided with something, someone. 

“What the hell? — ” A harsh mumble through gritted teeth.

You looked up, wide-eyed. Shades filled your vision, as well as a downturned scowl. As your surroundings settled back in place.

“Get your head out of the clouds, kid.”

He grabbed you, hand pressed down on your shoulder, and pulled you down into a crouch. Only then did you notice that the whole team was crouched as well, hiding behind the boughs and piles of dead leaves and vines. And all staring at you. 

“Since the new one’s so eager, could send ’em in as a distraction, Doc.” Sims, who was leaning against a tree trunk across from you, whispered. “Get them all focused on a single person.”

Adler seemed to consider it, his scowl turning into a thoughtful press of his lips. He turned towards you, making you flinch. 

“I want you to get up there.” Adler pointed out a mound between the trees not too far from where you were all at. “You’ll get a better view of where those VietCong are hiding. Pick a target and on my say, take ’em out. That should flush them all out. Think you can manage?” 

You swallowed. “Yessir.”

Adler nodded at you, sending you off. 

Quietly and carefully, you snuck your way through the trees. Your rifle clutched tight in your hands, your helmet feeling heavier on your head.  

The trees seemed to lean in closer and closer, closing in all around you. Squeezed and pressed around you like a tight fist, suffocating you. 

White noise in your ears, static that clears into a voice. 

“You in position?”

“Almost, sir.” You replied.

You bellied yourself towards the top of the mound, settling into a spot. You stared down your scope, but all you saw was green. “I’m in position.”

“See anything?” Adler asked.

“Nothing.”

“Stay focused. Won’t be long until they walk right into your sights.”

You shifted on your elbows, nestling yourself in the dirt and ferns. “Copy.”

But Adler was right. It wasn’t long before you noticed some movement  below you. Figures emerged from between the trees, stalking out like big cats. You couldn’t gauge how many there were but from what you can tell, it was a group of them. Outnumbered Adler’s team — even with you included . 

“See ’em?” 

You blinked at Adler’s words over the radio. “Yessir, see a group of them walking towards you.”

“Good. Have a target picked out?”

You hovered your scope over one of them, walking just outside of the formation. 

“I do.”

“Take the shot.”

With an intake of breath, you steadied your rifle scope. Finger hovered over the trigger, as your crosshairs align with the target’s head. Slowly, you released your breath and took the shot. The sound of it echoed throughout the trees, a finality that left a ringing in your ears. Watching as the soldier’s body slumped to the ground in the scope. Immediately, a firefight broke out as Adler and his team started their surprise assault. But it was a blur to you. Bullets flew around you, the flash of muzzles in the foliage. Yelled Vietnamese in one ear, team comms buzzed in the other. Screams of dying soldiers collapsing to the ground. With your advantage on the mound, you tried your best to take out as many enemies as you could. When they tried to reposition when Adler and his team advanced forward, gaining ground. 

You moved down the top of the mound, taking cover as you were reloading your rifle. Hands shaky with adrenaline as you tried to insert a fresh mag. Something moved below you, just in the corner of your eye. The flash of a rifle in a stray sunstream, aiming right at you. You ducked as the rifle was unloaded towards your direction. Sweat poured down your face, stinging your eyes. Your rifle clicked, the hammer pulled back, reloaded. You heard running footsteps and yells behind your position. Coming straight for you. You heard them close in on you. From what you could garner, there’s a few of them. You laid still, finger ghosting over the trigger as the footsteps crunching against the dried leaves grow closer. As they crested over the top, without hesitation, you unloaded your mag into them. Taking out two of them, injuring another, before a fourth rushed forward. Body collided with body, as the enemy grappled with you. Your rifle pinned against your chest, the bayonet blade of his rifle sunk into the dirt beside your waist. 

He tried to keep you still on the ground, an opportunity for his injured teammate to force himself up and aim his rifle at you. You pushed your hips up, boots on the ground, as you bucked the enemy soldier off of you. Just enough to lift up your rifle and shoot the injured soldier before he could get his shot off on you. As instant as your shot, your rifle was kicked out of your hands. You recoiled back, a punch colliding with your jaw as the soldier climbed on top of you again. Grappled with you again, as you tried to reach for your knife. Using all your strength to push, you shifted your weight, bucking him off. The momentum of the maneuver pulled you with him as he fell backwards and tumbling down the mound into the jungle ground below. 

Body met the ground, dirt and twigs scraping against your skin. Your head throbbed, mouth filling with blood from a bitten tongue. You groaned, pulling yourself up. Your enemy was doing the same across from you. Your knife laid in the middle between you both. You lunged forward, grabbing your knife just as he rushed for you. You’re on your back again, hand clasped around your knife handle. It was a battle of might as you tried to push your knife into the soldier’s chest while he pushed against your arms, trying to twist the knife around and aim it towards you. Gritted teeth sneered above you, saliva falling from jowls. You felt your wrist bent, arms strained as your enemy used his weight to his advantage. Used it as leverage to pin your arms to your side, making the knife all that much closer to your chest. 

A split decision as you loosened your grip, letting the knife fall from your hand and onto the ground. A foolish decision, sure. Letting go of your only advantage. But it was enough to make your enemy falter, stupefied by it. You mustered all your strength, a last ditch effort as you kneed his abdomen. Pushing up, flipping you both over. You hit him once. Then twice, then more and more until you felt his nose shatter beneath your fists. Teeth cracked and  pieces rattled inside his mouth. 

You grabbed a rock by his head, your knees pinning his arms down, as you brought it down. Over and over. Feeling how easily the stone cracked through bone. Until his head was caved in. All mush, skull shards, and mangled blood vessels. Like fish chum in an angler’s bucket. 

You let the bloodied rock drop from your hand, right next to the crime scene. You moved away, falling backwards against a fallen log and trying to catch your breath. Your mouth flooded with blood, the overflow trickled out of the corner of your mouth. Staining your shirt. All you could do was sit there, even as the sounds of exchanged gunfire ended and the jungle went silent. You didnt how long you sat there against the rotten log. Long enough that the radio was nothing but white noise in your ears, the voices disembodied. 

Soon you heard more footsteps in the distance. Approaching you from the side. You instantly went tense as a figure broke through the treeline in the corner of your eye. You took a breath. In your bleary vision was Adler. He stalked forward in a slow manner, gun raised. He eyed your kill on the ground, still twitching and bleeding. Brain matter splattered all along the ground just like a prion infected deer. Your eyes followed him, adrenaline still coursing through your veins. Danger still blared in your head. You watched as he stopped and looked down to your knife by his boot. He reached down and picked it up, brushing off the dirt on the blade. You could already tell he connected the dots on what happened. 

As he eyed your unbloodied blade and the bloodied rock next to the dead VietCong.

He stood over you now. His rifle lowered to his side. He flipped the knife, catching it as it turned in the air. The blade in his gloved hand and the handle offered out to you. You grabbed your knife, putting it back in its sheath on your side. He extended an arm out to you, an offer of a hand up. You reached out, accepting his helping hand. Let him pull you back on your feet as he steadied you. His hand went to your shoulder, the weight grounding you. There was a knowing look on his face as it softened, just slightly. Something akin to a confessor that knew the nature of sins to a sinner. 

Adler gave you a smile. Sardonic and sharp yet genuine. Proud.

“Welcome to Vietnam, kid.” 

You let out a strangled breath, feeling something in your chest ache and stir, coiling around your heart like barbed wire until every heartbeat stung. The roots of guerilla warfare, much like jungle rot, burgeoned underneath his sun-kissed skin. And now it sprouted underneath yours.  

(Hand-in-hand with the Devil. Look him in the eye and see how he looks like a long-lost friend.)

But for that single moment, the world around you seemed to disappear. Where only he, and that smile, remained.

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

A/N:

Critique welcomed as long as it is constructive and polite (don't be rude/mean pretty please ◡̈ ).

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⮜ Back | Next ⮞

[smulo-var]

Tak hodím si to i sem, žejo

Nevím jak pociťuju toto dílo ale tak co šlo to šlo

Navíc jsem zjistila že víme 00 nic o tom co dělá Julie ve volném čase a jaké má zájmy takže tohle fakt nešlo vymyslet..

Odkaz na TikTok:

[skauni]

Enemies to Lovers: Simon Riley x Fem!Reader

Part #1–Enemies

Part #1, Part #2, Part #3, Part #4, Part #5(final)

You and Simon never got along. The second one of you see’s, hears, or knows the other is in the same room, you start talking shit then argue. It takes Soap and Gaz to hold Simon back from getting violent, a simple arm over your chest from Price to let you know to stand down. God you wish you could pummel Simon’s stupid mask into his stupid face right now—but since training time was coming up early tomorrow you’d save it till then.

The following day, training goes as expected. As soon as you’re done with your sets you start training with Simon. Like always. You two have been brawling for about an hour now. Insults flying with fists. Idiotic insults like: “You’re so pathetic when you try to fight me, Ghost!”—coming from you. To which he responds with something just as idiotic, such as: “At least I know I’ll win!”—which is only half true most days. You two usually tie. But when you don’t he wins or you find a loophole in the rules of training to beat him.

You and Simon were both getting tired. Slower. Then he swept your legs out from under you and pinned you with his foot on your chest. You grunted, straining to remove his foot, when you know your too tired for this shit you tap out and give him the win—not without being sour about it though, of course. He scoffs and rolls his eyes and you, letting you up. “Prick…” You mutter under your breath as you get up. To which he leans in closer for. “What was that?” He practically spat out the words. “I called you a prick, dip shit.” You say a bit louder with a sneer.

And there it goes. There’s the straw that broke the camels back. You two started arguing. Again. It was like clockwork at this point. Price keeping you back, Soap and Gaz holding Simon back. You’d spit at him if the Captain wasn’t there to act like father dearest and scold you for it. But there was a mission in a few days. And you didn’t want to be left at base because you couldn’t cooperate with one guy—Simon—in the team. So you chose a… somewhat better behavior.

Fast forward like 4 days, and you and the team are packing up in preparation for the heli ride to the drop point. Your getting your gear on when you hear a knock on your doorway. You look over and your curiosity turns cold in an instant. “The hell do you want, Ghost?” You grumble. He scoffs and smirks at how mad his simple existence has made you. “Price says we’re going soon, recruit.” He said. Now that was an insult. He knew damn well you were a sergeant, not a recruit. A low level sergeant, yes, but still a sergeant nonetheless.

“Okay. Now go away. Or I’ll MAKE you into a ghost, Ghost.” You huff. He teeters his head like he’s mocking you behind the mask and leaves. When you’re ready you go to the helicopter and climb in. This was going to be a long ride if—of course… “Seriously? The only seat left is by the sarcastic shit head with a skull mask?” You groan out in annoyance as you force yourself to sit by him.

To be continued….<3

@certifiedyapperx

[heli-writes]

Between then and now, Part 2.

Part 2: The known in the unknown

Pairing: Toshinori Yagi x Reader

Summary: When a whirlwind affair between you and All Might was found out by his manager, it was made sure that no one ever knew about you or your relationship with All Might. Even twenty years later, Toshinori Yagi still thinks of you. His retirement leaves him lonely in a cold city apartment and he wonders what could’ve been. Maybe it’s time to rekindle? But is that what you want?

Disclaimers: -

Note: I finally found some time to work on this!

Heli’s Masterlist

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ *~*~*~*~ *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The present day, Japan.

It feels weird walking the streets of your hometown again. It's been so long since you've been here. The city changed a lot since you've been wandering around these streets with your friends. While everything seems familiar, most things also feel unknown.

You wander the streets that once were so familiar to you. The TV store where you used to watch the latest hero news after school with your friends has been replaced with a multimedia store. The kiosk, where you and your brother bought sour candy and picture cards hoping to pull a Gran Torino or a Crimson Riot, is also long gone. However, there are some places that are still the same. There's still the library where you and your girls studied hard for your entrance exams to get into university. It's also where you had your first kiss, just behind the business administration section. 

Of course, the old university building is still the same. You can't remember how many tears of stress you've shed here and of course tears of joy on your graduation day. That's also where you've met All Might for the first time. He was invited as a guest of honor and had to give a speech to all the graduates. Similar to you who had to give a speech since you graduated summa cum laude. You remember of nervous you were that day.

*~*~*~ *~*

Twenty-two years ago, Japan.

Dear comrades-in-arms, teachers and parents, Today we celebrate the success of a new generation and the bright future... the bright future...

You keep mumbling to yourself going through your cards over and over again. You're sitting behind the stage you have to go on in a few minutes. You groan frustratedly. No matter how well you know the speech you've written, there is no way you will deliver it successfully. First of all, you're not a motivational speaker and second of all, you are way too nervous.

 „My, my, someone's nervous!“, a booming voice says right behind you and you jump up in your seat. 

When you turn around, you're met with the largest man you've ever seen. Of course, you know who he is. All might, an upcoming hero. He made quite the name for himself, especially during his time in America. The girls in your semester fawn over his good looks. Upon closer inspection, you think he looks quite silly. You mean that grin will haunt you in your nightmares. And what...

 „What's up with your hair?“, you blurt out before you can stop yourself.

All Might's creepy smile disappears for a second and he looks stunned but as quickly as it disappears, as quickly it returns. It seriously gives you IT-clown vibes.

 „Whatever do you mean? Do you not like my hair, dear citizen?“, he asks you in his perfect-practiced hero voice. You think he sounds fake.

„Uhm, no, I don't.“, you tell him. Again, you don't really think when you answer him.

Now, All Might is taken aback.

 „Oh, really? I-i mean you don't find it flashy?“, he says in his normal voice. You're surprised at how timid and soft-spoken he sounds.

 „No.“, you tell him with a pointed look.

 „Oh, well, alright. That's a first.“, he mumbles.

You turn fully towards him. You look up at him crossing your arms.

 „Really? No one told you before that it looks like the antennae of an insect? You know, like a cockroach?“, you explain bluntly.

All Might stares at you stunned for a few seconds before starting to laugh. It's not his booming hero laugh, but an honest one. You think it suits him better than the laugh you've heard on TV.

 „You sure are an honest one.“, he tells you wiping the side of his eye.

You shrug. „Should I be dishonest instead? Sounds like a villain's trait.“, you point out. All Might gives you that pretty laugh again. 

„I suppose that's true.“, he agrees with you.

There's a moment of silence. Suddenly, the speaker on stage announces you and your speech. Surprisingly, you don't feel nervous anymore. It's probably because you don't have to go on stage with a cockroach hairstyle. Your hair is perfectly styled by the hairstylist your father paid for. 

 „Break a leg.“, All Might encourages you and gives you two thumbs-up. You give him a smile before going on stage and delivering your speech.

Your speech went well that day. Your parents were proud of you and your mother even cried a little. After the formal celebration and dinner with your family, you celebrate with your friends. Needless to say, all of you are absolutely plastered by the end of the night.

That might be the reason you don't remember much about All Might's speech. Something about being a hero in your own story or so. 

What you do remember is the way he laughs when he finds something truly funny.

~*~*~*~ *~*

The present day, Japan.

You smile fondly at the memory. You've been so deep in thought that you didn't notice how far your legs have taken you. You shake your head trying to push the thoughts out of your head and to gain a sense of reality. Right, food!, you tell yourself.

It's been so long since you've been here last, you don't really know where a supermarket is. A quick Google search later, you're finally on your way with a fixed destiny. Luckily, the city's big and so there are plenty of stores to choose from. 

You end up getting more things than you initially planned. Having to get all the essentials from salt to butter, your bags are stuffed full. You drag them with you, trying to find the fastest way home. Unfortunately for you, the streets you once knew like the back of your hand faded in your memory. While you were confident that you'd find your way back home without Google Maps, you're not so sure anymore. Actually, you're lost.

Since the bags are getting heavy on your shoulders, you decide to find a bench to sit down for a moment. Maybe also check the map to see where you should actually be heading. Eventually, you find a map and plop down with a heavy groan. Your back isn't what it used to be. You're still denying it but you can't help but notice little things about your body that changed. Your back is one thing.

Once you've caught your breath, you realize what's in front of you. You ended up in a little square and in the middle of the square, there is a giant golden All Might statue. You almost burst out laughing. I forgot they have these in Japan. They really do worship him, you think to yourself. It's really comical to you. How the people of Japan look up to him like he's a god that became human. It's probably you know that he is in fact very human.

In contrast to everybody else, you know what his hair looked like in the morning. You know how the skin on top of hot milk makes him gag. How he laughs at his own burps. How his face looks like when he's intimate with someone. You know how he cries.

~*~*~*~ *~*

Twenty years ago, Japan.

 „Y-y/n... I don't know what to say.“

You stare past his face. You look at the rising sun behind the skyline that can be seen from Tashinor's apartment. You can't look at him. Tears are already about to spill out of your eyes. You know there's no stopping if you look at him now. 

You feel his large hand brushing your arm. „Say something.“, he begs. You can hear his own tears in his voice.

You feel the water in your eyes overflowing. Quickly you turn around so that he doesn't see. „What do you want me to say? We've argued all night. I think everything has been said.“, you point out.

There's silence behind you. You can hear him sigh. Now he's probably brushing his hand over his face. He always does this when he's stressed or upset.

 „I love you.“, he says quietly. You let out a choked laugh.

 „Not enough, apparently.“, you tell him. It drips in a harsh bitterness that's rarely in your mouth.

 „Don't be like that.“, Toshinoris says pointedly. He almost sounds annoyed. It makes you angry. You twirl around.

 „Like what? Hurt?“, you say sharply. You don't mean to attack him. You don't mean to start arguing again. You've been at it all night. Both of you know that there is no room for conversation anymore. However, no one is ready to let it rest. Because you probably know that the decision's made and if you go now, nothing will ever be the same anymore. To keep arguing right now is to keep holding on for a little while longer.

 „I don't want to hurt you.“, he says quietly. You sigh. You look at him defeatedly. 

 „I know.“, you whisper back at him. He takes a step closer to you and engulfs you in a big hug.

 „I know no words I can say can make it better. You're right. I hurt you. I choose my career over you. I know it's unfair and cruel of me but you also need to understand that my hands are tied. I can't back out now. I've come too far and too many people rely on me.“, he tells you.

You press your face into his chest. You don't want to hear this. You know this. There is no need to repeat it again.

 „Hey, look at me.“, Toshinori says and puts his index finger under your chin making you raise your head. You look at him with teary eyes. His heart aches to see you like this.

The two of you have been sneaking around for almost a year now. Given the nature of his job, he's never been one for serious, long-term relationships. This is the longest he's ever been with someone before. His mind is made up but it doesn't mean he's happy about it.

He loves you, he really does. It's like he didn't realize just how much he loves you until he was about to end it. Kanno's been putting pressure on him ever since finding out and after you've been almost caught by paparazzi last week, he knows it's time.

Gently, he brushes his hand through your hair. He leans forward and presses a soft kiss onto your forehead. You feel yourself melt against him. It's like you can't stay angry at him. He pushes his hand deeper into your hair, scratching the skin lightly. Meanwhile, he pushes your chin further up and meets your lips in a soaring kiss.

You kiss each other hungrily. Instinctively, you wrap your arms around Toshinori's neck. Toshinori's hand wanders down to your hip and pulls it against his own. You almost groan into the kiss. 

You need to stop. This won't be good for either of you. You try pushing him away but he's bigger and stronger than you and his lips are so, so soft on yours. It won't take long until you give in to him. You always do. 

It's probably why you also gave into continuing to work for him in America. That and the prospect of someday. That someday you can transfer back to Japan. That someday, when the buzz around him slows down and he can come back to you.

It's just that that day never came.

~*~*~*~ *~*

The present day, Japan.

Your eyes still get glossy when you think about that night. Embarrassed, you wipe ferociously at your eyes. How silly, you haven't seen that man in twenty years. You don't even know what kind of person he is today. 

Of course, you've seen the fight at Kamino Ward. Actually, because of the time difference you didn't see it live. You saw the news after you had woken up and then spent the next hour in front of your screen. You were late for work that morning.

It was heartbreaking to watch. You remember being shocked to see him like that on your phone in the dusk light of your bedroom. It was what everybody talked about at the office that day. Everybody was shocked. People were worried about the security and stability of Japan. Meanwhile, you were worried about the man you once loved.

You assumed Toshinori eventually would have to retire. Eventually, everyone gets old. You're surprised that he held onto his job for as long as he did. He did have some brutal fights during his career, they must've left some permanent damage.

You take a deep sigh. It's ridiculous how nostalgic this city makes you feel. It's been only one morning, you keep drifting off indulging in reminiscences. Suddenly, your stomach rumbles. Right, of course, that's why you went out in the first place. Also, you probably should get your groceries into a fridge soon.

Quickly, you look at your phone figuring out your route back home. You see Takeo sent you a message with a picture but you decide to open it once you're home. You just hope he didn't manage to burn down his dorm already.

~*~*~*~ *~*

Japan, the same day.

After a longer way home than anticipated, you finally make it back. After a hearty meal, you finally check your son's message. It's a picture of him and his new roommate setting up a picnic on campus. You're sure they keep the alcohol bottles out of sight. You have to laugh and roll your eyes. You remember how it was for you to move into your first apartment. Unlike your son, you moved out of your parents' home only after you graduated from uni. You've missed out on a lot of things because of that. You've never had a roommate and your parents rarely let you go out to party. 

You send your son a selfie of yourself in the middle of cardboxes to which he only responds 'Get to work, mom! ;)'. You sigh deeply and lock your phone. He's right, you need to tackle these boxes. Your new job starts on Monday and by then you'd like to be settled into your new home. 

You start with the kitchen boxes first. In your head, they're the easiest to unpack. The layout of the kitchen kind of already tells you what goes where. You already dread the junk boxes in which all kinds of stuff are that have no real place. Considering your limited furniture, those will be the hardest to tidy up. 

You try to get around these boxes by unpacking the bedroom and bathroom boxes next. You take your time with your clothes. You've already sorted through your clothes before you got here and you got rid of a great amount of them. You gave some old clothes you don't wear anymore to the charity shop. However, there are some clothes you can't get rid of. Like the T-shirt you gave birth into. Or that old blazer you wore to your interview at All Might's hero agency. 

You can't help but to try on these random clothes. Before you know it you're standing in sweatpants, Takeo's birth T-shirt and the old blazer in front of your mirror. You almost laugh at how ridiculous that combination looks on you. Carefully, you stroke over the black fabric of your blazer thinking back to your interview that changed the course of your life.

~*~*~*~ *~*

Twenty-two years ago, Japan.

 „So, Miss l/n, what would you say is your biggest weakness?“

Nervously, you shift in your seat. You really don't know how you ended up in this seat. Looking back at it, it was probably an act of rebellion. After your graduation, your father secured a job for you at his company. He didn't even bother to ask you whether or not you wanted to work for him. It made you mad. You tried to talk to him but he always just brushed you off. 

 Since he never gave you a real job offer and you never really accepted a job at his company or signed a contract, you took matters into your own hands. You applied to many different companies. Having a business administration degree, it was open to you in what kind of area and what kind of company you wanted to work for. You don't really know what you want to do with your life. So far, your life has been presented to you. Everything was planned and followed through. It's the first time in your life, you're deciding where things are going.

That being said, you applied to All Might's hero agency just because you could. You didn't really expect to hear back from them. Hundreds of well-educated people from Japan and abroad must've applied for this position. Then again, it was only an interview. One you didn't really prepare for since you did not take this application that seriously anyway.

„Miss l/n?“, the interviewer in front of you asks again.

You're ripped out of your thoughts. 

„E-excuse me, I've been thinking about an appropriate answer.“, you tell them. You take a deep breath.

„In all honesty, I probably have a lot of weaknesses. I'm a perfectionist. I can't drop a project until it's not only done but done perfectly. That can be time-consuming and sometimes I get lost in details. I'm also a people pleaser. I don't like having conflict with others so I always try to avoid it or try to mediate if I get involved in it against my will.“, you tell the three interviewers in front of you.

The interviewers quickly scribble something in their notes. You're trying not to stare at their papers. You really want to know what they're writing down about you.

 „Would you say that, despite these weaknesses, you're still able to stand your ground and make your opinion heard?“, the other interviewer asks.

 „Well, it sure doesn't come naturally to me. However, I grew up in a family of businessmen. You learn from an early age to stay your ground.“, you tell them.

The third interviewer goes through your application portfolio.

 „Right... you wrote that your father works in finances. I actually do recognize your name...“, the interviewer trails off. The other two take a look at your portfolio as well and exchange knowing looks.

You shift in your seat. You hoped this wouldn't come up. You wanted to get your first job due to your own skills and the impressions you leave behind. Not because of your family.

Luckily the interviewers don't dwell on this for long and continue with their standardized interview questions. You're glad when they're finally done. When they let you go and call in another candidate, the others, that are still waiting for their interview, start bombarding you with questions.

 „How was it?“, „What kind of questions did they ask?“, „Is All Might there too?“

Your head is still swirling from the interview, so you give them some half-assed answers. Quickly you stumble towards the elevator and press the button energetically. The moment the doors open, you quickly scramble inside. You start going through your back trying to find your deodorant. You've sweat so much, other people must smell you from five meters away.

 „Exciting day today?“, a voice says behind you.

Oh no. No. No. You must be kidding me!, you think to yourself. You turn around in slow motion and there he is. Standing in front of you in full size. He's a lot bigger than you remember.

 „A-all Might...“, you stutter.

 „Oh... wait! I never forget a face. We met before, didn't we?“, he says cheerily.

You feel cold sweat drip down your neck. Oh hell no, your potential new boss can't possibly remember the last time you saw him. You feel absolutely mortified. Meanwhile, All Might crooks his head and stares at you intensely.

 „Oh, you must be mista-...“, you start but get interrupted by the much larger hero. He snaps his fingers and his eyes light up in recognition.

 „Now, I know! You're the one who called me a cockroach!“, he says triumphantly. He grins and seems to be very pleased by the fact that he remembers you.

At the same time, you're face falls. Your mouth hangs open. Apparently, this is happening.

 „I did not!!“, you exclaim before you can find a polite way to tell him he must confuse you with someone.

All Might snaps his fingers again and gives you another grin.

 „So, it is you!“, he booms. You feel your face heat up.

 „Sir, with all due respect, I did not call you a cockroach!“, you defend yourself. You really didn't.

 „Oh, right, just my hair.“, he contemplates.

You're not sure what to say at that. He's right. You did say that. But to be fair it was during a very vulnerable moment. Your face must look like a tomato by now.

 „I'm very sorry if that offended you. I didn't mean it in a demeaning way.“, you try to save your neck.

 „So cockroaches are a good thing?“, he teases you. You think about that for a moment.

 „W-well, they sure are a success of evolution. I mean nothing can kill these guys. So, in a way, they are like you...“, you trail off. 

All Might gawks at you and you realize what you just said. Now you actually compared him to a cockroach.

 „Y-you know, because no villain can defeat you...“, you add a bit more quiet. You look at your shoes embarrassedly. I guess there goes any chance of getting that job, you think.

Then, All Might lets out that gorgeous laugh again that you remember. And he can't seem to stop laughing. Embarrassed, you stand next to him. You're even more embarrassed when the elevator door opens again and one of the interviewers is standing in front of you. 

You shrink under the man's gaze while All Might tries to catch his breath. 

 „All Might, has this woman been bothering you? I can assure you, we can exclude her from the ongoing applicant selection.“, the man says cooly.

All Might wipes the side of his face and turns to you. „You applied for the assistant position?“, he asks you. You can only nod at that. He turns back to the interviewer.

 „Hire her, Kanno-san!“

~*~*~*~ *~*

The present day, Japan.

Eventually, you put your clothes away and start tackling those junk boxes that you've been avoiding all day. You manage to find a place for most things. Also, you christen your new junk drawer by shoving all things you don't find a new place for in said drawer.

Most of the boxes are empty now. You fold them and put them into the hallway so you can take them out tomorrow. The only boxes left now are the boxes filled with pictures. Carefully, you open the box. There are some picture frames you still need to hang on the wall. There's Takeo on his first day of kindergarten. There's you and Takeo under a Christmas tree in your house in America. And there's Takeo and you just a few months ago when he graduated high school. 

Takeo graduated at the age of nineteen. He's been held back a year because his English was too bad. At least that's what his teachers told you. Of course, you spoke Japanese with him at home but you don't think that was the reason he was held back. The truth is that Takeo was a sensitive child. It didn't help that he was born without a quirk. It was an invitation to others to pick on him.

You remember that he cried a lot during his first year in school. Other children's quirks manifested already in kindergarten. During the first year of primary school, he still held onto hope that his quirk would present eventually. Still, he already got dubbed quirkless. He also was the only Asian kid in class. And the only kid with a single working mother. You got lucky and found a job quite fast after quitting All Might's agency. However, it required you to move to a suburban area. A lot of the other mothers lead a more traditional life with being married and having multiple kids. Also, most of them were white. So, similar to your son, you didn't make many friends.

People respected you since you had a job at a well-respected hero agency. You also tried to get involved in the local community. But it was hard to bond with the other women over mac and cheese and the Superbowl barbeque when you don't really care for American football or food that you never ate before coming to the USA.

It was hard on your son too. He tried to fit in. Tried to play with the other kids. However, he couldn't keep up with them when they had quirk competition or went to the park throwing baseballs with their dads.

It probably was during that first year of primary school when Takeo asked for the first time where his dad was because „I must have one“, as he put it. Of course, you knew this question would eventually come. However, you still weren't prepared. You gave him a speech on how sometimes things don't work out the way you want them to and that you're still very happy to be his mom.

Back then, that was enough. The conversation came up a couple of times later. Especially during his early teen years, these talks became more heated. Partly that was your fault because you gave only very vague answers about your son's origin. However, as he grew up, he must've accepted it or understood that his father's absence was not your choice.

After you've put up the picture frames, you send Takeo another picture of your now neat apartment. In response, he sends a picture of his dorm room which already looks like a mess. You roll your eyes before putting your phone away again. 

Only then you notice how the sun already started to set. You sigh before getting up and cook yourself some dinner. 

~*~*~*~ *~*

The present day, Japan, the other side of Musutafu.

Instant Ramen, once again. 

Toshinori pours the hot water into the plastic pot. He really shouldn't eat this stuff anymore. Ever since his stomach injury, he has trouble digesting processed food. He can't help it though. He never learned how to cook healthy food for himself. And these days he's too tired to make anything else than something quick and easy. Toshinori sets a five-minute-timer before plopping down on his couch.

Staring at the ceiling, he massages his temples. It still feels unreal to him how quickly his body deteriorated. Only a couple of years ago, he handled a full schedule with no problems. Now, a mere day at school wears him down like this. He stares at the ceiling until the timer goes off. 

He eats his ramen cup in front of the TV show. There aren't any shows that really interest him so he keeps skipping channels. After his dinner, he grades a few more papers and then goes to bed. Before the light's off, he scrolls through his phone a bit. With his private account, he follows young Midoriya. He likes a post of him and his classmates having a movie night in the dorms. He thinks back to his own school days. He remembers already being so focused on his hero career in High School that he only had a few friends during his time at school. The only time he truly enjoyed his youth was during his time in America. David introduced him to college life and made sure that Toshinori visited his fair share of frat parties.

Sometimes he wonders what it would've been like if he met you back then. When he wasn't already an established figure in the hero society. When he was just Toshinori most of the time. He could've gotten to know you as himself. It's not that you never got to know the real Toshinori. You did. Sometimes he thinks that you're the only one who got to know the real him after Shimura-sensei.

He closes social media and puts his phone on his nightstand. He turns on his uninjured side to sleep but he feels restless. After a couple of minutes, he gives up. It's something you always used to scold him for. „You're too impatient, Toshi. You need to give your body and mind to calm down a bit after a long day.“, you probably would say. 

Toshinori gets up and walks over to his balcony. He pushes the sliding door open and takes in a breath of fresh night air. He steps outside barefoot. That's another thing y/n would scold me for, he thinks. He walks over to the railing. A soft breeze lifts up his shirt and he peers down the balcony into the dark void beneath. Only a few streetlights illuminate the empty street below. He leans back again and watches the skyline in front of him. 

He remembers all the nights he couldn't sleep before. After a long villain fight when the adrenaline in his veins kept him from sleeping. Or after a big media event when his brain overflowed with impressions and thoughts and he just couldn't find any rest. There were nights that were easier to handle and those that were not. The easier ones usually were connected to you.

Part of him wished you were here right now. Joining him on the balcony only a few minutes after he slid out of bed. Wrapping your delicate arms around him from the back. Leaning your face against his back, softly whispering: „What's on your mind, Toshi?“.

He runs a hand through his hair. What is on his mind? He's not sure. Nothing out of the ordinary happened today. And yet, he feels so restless. Maybe it's because he's not used to this. This... calmness. All his life, there always was something. Even when there was nothing, he was on call just waiting for something to happen. And it always did. Now there really is nothing. No emergencies, no villains to fight, no nothing. Well, actually, that was all still happening but it's not like he could do anything about it. Not in his quirkless state. Which sucks even more. Seeing all the fights and emergencies on TV and not being able to do anything about it. 

Toshinori shivers. It's getting cold outside and he's only wearing a thin pyjama. He takes a last look at the illuminated city before slipping back inside. Pulling on the curtains, he blends out the city and its villains, heroes and all emergencies that are not his responsibility anymore.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

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