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jedi-hawkins · 4 months

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Flower Sniping

The Clones all deserve flowers! Or maybe they think you deserve flowers 😉 Either way, love is in bloom this week for the Clone Flowers Fic Event!

Throughout this week, May 20th-25th, certain participants will be posting their own fics of Clones and different flower themes that were selected! The participants as well as the Clones and flowers they will be writing for are listed below and links to each fic will be added as they are posted! 💐 Follow the tag #cloneflowerficevent to see them all as they come!!

Event Masterlist

Written for an event with

@arctrooper69 - Tup, Rex, Gregor

@photogirl894 - Hunter, Wrecker, Fives

@nahoney22 - Fox, Tech

@totallyunidentified - 99, Cody

@dragonrider9905 - Hardcase

@l-lend - Wolffe

Make sure to go check out their entries too, we'll be posting throughout the week!

Pairing: Crosshair x f!reader

Chosen Flower: Lilies, Forever Lily

Word count: 8.1k (don't look at me like that)

Warnings: Brief mentions of war struggles and death, suggestive fluff, some swearing, reader has hair, frienemies (briefly) to friends (idiots) to lovers, mutual pining, a bit of angst, Crosshair is somewhat bad at expressing emotions

Beta-read by @photogirl894

"So, why are you putting me on babysitting duty, Argus?" You grumble, rolling your fingers over a knot in your shoulder.

"You're one of my best agents, Lieutenant, and this is important. I need your eyes on it." Your commandant says plainly, glancing over a few things on the holotable in front of you.

You cock an eyebrow. "Seriously? The war has been going on for a year and a half. What's so important that the Republic is taking an interest in Scarif now?"

Argus rolls his eyes. "Look. I didn't ask. It's some sort of deal that the Prime Minister struck. In exchange for food and medical supplies, he's letting a single squad come and scout Western Sector 14."

"You've got to be kidding me." You scoff. "Sector 14? There's nothing out there, I would know, it's where I spent most my childhood."

"Another reason why you're the perfect person for the job." Argus says with a smirk. "You know as well as I do, Scarif has been struggling. The trade routes rarely reach all the way out here to us. If the Republic wants to send some supplies our way for showing a few tourists around, why not?"

You fold your arms across your chest. "How can I argue with something as logical as that?"

Argus lets out a chuckle. "Then get ready to play nice, they'll be here soon."

"When do I ever not play nice?" You tease back. "How long are they staying?"

"Six weeks."

A laugh escapes your lips. "The Republic better be sending the good stuff, then."

"They're some elite team, Squad 99, I think. I've been told they're one of the best." Argus retorts.

Smiling, you roll your eyes. "That's not what I meant. If they don't have a bottle of Corelian whiskey, this won't be worth it."

Argus just shakes his head at you and exits the command center. "Outside. Ten minutes."

The squad's ship touches down gently and you adjust your rifle on your shoulder slightly, sinking your weight into one hip. As much of a front as you put up for Argus, you really didn't mind this assignment. It was pretty cut and dry; serve as an escort for Squad 99 while they sniff around the western sector for a few weeks. It would give you a break from the frequent relief missions you were usually running.

Scarif hadn't seen any true action from the war so far, but the effects still reached the outer rim. Argus was right, the steady trade that once flowed from the core worlds had weakened to a trickle and now many of Scarif's provinces were riddled with conflict over the little resources the planet had left. That meant you were more often out running supplies, assisting in makeshift medical camps, or dissolving scuffles than anything else.

Your interest in this squad increases as you realize their ship is a heavily-modified Omicron-Class attack shuttle. The ramp lowers and four men stride down, coming to a stop in front of Argus. The man in front removes his helmet, revealing a mess of long dark hair pulled back by a bandana. He holds his hand out to Argus. "Commandant, I presume?"

Argus takes the man's hand. "Yes sir. Welcome to Scarif." Your commander turns and waves his spare hand to you. "This is my First Lieutenant, and the one who will be hosting you on your mission."

"Sir." The soldier acknowledges you with a curt nod. "I'm Sergeant Hunter, Galactic Army of the Republic." He looks to the man on his right, who removes his helmet to reveal striking silver hair. "This is Crosshair, our sharpshooting specialist and my right hand."

The Sergeant turns to his left, "This is Tech, engineering and data analytics." The soldier with goggles barely glances up when his sergeant claps a hand to his shoulder. "And Wrecker, weapons and demolitions." Hunter finishes, jerking a thumb behind him to the soldier towering over his comrades.

"Right. Well, good to meet you all. The command center is right this way" Argus says, turning to lead the group deeper into the yard.

"So, Lieutenant. How are the military operations going here? The Prime Minister easy to work with?" Sergeant Hunter asks you in a husky voice.

"Hm," You have to stifle a chuckle. "I wouldn't really call us a military, Sergeant. We operate as a Coalition dedicated to the service of Scarif's people. The Prime Minister has his own division of special forces for ‘keeping order.’ We work with him, not for him."

The soldier in goggles, Tech, takes a few quick steps forward to get level with your shoulder. "You use military ranks, do you not?"

Argus steps aside to let you lead the group into the Command Center. "Mainly for ease of identifying our hierarchy of command."

You gesture for the soldiers to circle the main holotable. "Argus is our main point of coordination and connection to the Prime Minister-"

"And the Lieutenant here is my first pair of boots on the ground." Argus says proudly. "You boys are in good hands."

A fond smile crosses your face at Argus' praise as you flip the holotable on, but you could swear the silver-haired sniper muttered something under his breath. Straightening up, a red pin highlights the command yard.

"Alright. We're here." You say, pointing before motioning for the map to rotate and zoom. "Western Sector 14, where you all have requested to scout, is here. The base camp will be a few hours’ ride."

"We can't just fly in?" Tech asks pointedly.

"If you want to jump out of the ship and drop in with chutes, sure.” you say, shaking your head. “The jungle is too dense to make a landing with anything bigger than a one-man fighter anywhere near where you want to be."

Sergeant Hunter glances at his men. "Alright then. Thank you, Commandant." He says pointedly at Argus. "The first wave of supply ships will come in tomorrow."

"Fantastic, thank you." Argus replies. He moves to lead the group out the door and back out into the yard, but falters when he notices the squad's sharpshooter, Crosshair, sizing you up. "Is there a problem?" Argus asks, tentatively.

The soldier smirks, swishing a toothpick between his lips. "I just don't want to have to pull a civvy out of danger. We were told this planet was hostile."

Argus' brow furrows. "I already told you, the Lieutenant is my best agent, and you'll respect them as such-"

"No, Argus, it's fine." You cut him off, keeping eye contact with Crosshair. "If the soldier doesn't trust me, he doesn't trust me and nothing you say will change that." You take a few steps around the table to stand in front of the sniper. "By definition, yes, the planet is hostile, but they're bandits, raiders; people that have been driven to desperation. I can assure you, soldier, I've had my fair share of run-ins with them and I'm just fine." A smirk spreads across Crosshair's face and you narrow your eyes. "What?"

"You called me 'soldier,'" he responds.

You tilt your head to the side. "That's not what you are? Soldiers of the Galactic Army of the Republic?"

His comrade with the goggles, Tech steps forward. "Technically, you are correct, but not many refer to us as such."

"Well, what do they call you?" You ask, curiously.

Wrecker, the tallest soldier is the one who answers this time. "Eh... Most people just call us 'clone.'"

You run your eyes back over the squad, each of them so different from the others. "You're- you're clones?"

"You know we're GAR, but you don't know what we are?" Crosshair remarks.

"I didn't want to assume, the GAR does have a few divisions of enlisted nat-borns." You say simply with a shrug. "It’s not like you’re carbon copies of each other. Besides, it doesn’t matter how you came into this galaxy, you’re men, soldiers first before anything else."

With that, you step past the sniper and back out into the yard.

"We're packed and ready to go, Sergeant,'' you say to Hunter, gesturing to the group of gorsets standing tied nearby.

Tech adjusts his goggles. "We're using equine species?"

You shrug again, moving over to yours and stroking its face. "Only the rich can afford speeders out here. Plus, who can say no to a friend. Get your stuff loaded on the spare cart and we can head out."

Hunter leads his brothers back over to their ship and before you know it, they have their supplies all packed up.

Argus grasps your forearm just before you mount up. “Be careful, okay?”

You give him a reassuring smile, “You worry too much, Argus. My job here is easy. I’ll see you in a few weeks.”

With that you slip your foot into your saddle’s stirrup and throw your leg over your gorset’s back. With a click of your tongue, it moves to the front, Hunter’s following closely behind.

The first part of the ride goes pretty smoothly. You make small talk with the soldiers, or three of them, at least. Hunter, Tech, and Wrecker regale you with stories of their life and training as soldiers of the Republic and in return, you tell them your story as a nat-born.

About an hour in, you come to a stop at a stream and let your mounts rest. You watch intently as the four brothers, take in their surroundings. You’ve always liked Scarif. You’d certainly seen a few other planets in your line of work, but Scarif and its dense forests always meant home. Crosshair settles on a fallen log while Hunter checks over their gear on the carts and Wrecker begins making friends with the gorsets. Tech, however, is wandering around with his face buried in his datapad.

“Find anything interesting?” You say, approaching him.

He looks up at you, his wide inquisitive brown eyes filled with excitement. “All the flora on this planet is fascinating. So many native species are unique to this biome. Of course, I researched them before our arrival, but to get to document them personally is a wonderful opportunity.”

You smile at his curiosity. The clones’ homeworld, Kamino, probably left much to be desired. “Those ones are my favorite,” you say, motioning your chin towards some striking burgundy-orange blooms nestled in the undergrowth.

“Ah yes,” Tech remarks. “Liliaceae Lilium Asiata. A fairly ordinary species though, not that remarkable.”

You smile. “Their common name here is the ‘forever lily’ and while they’re not a rare species, they are special.”

“What makes them so special?” Wrecker asks loudly.

“Here on Scarif, they’re often given as a sign of admiration or partnership. They bloom in early summer and also represent new beginnings. My father actually gifted my mother one when he asked her to dinner for the first time.”

“That’s…actually quite romantic,” Tech replies.

“And obviously it went well,” Hunter adds.

A laugh escapes your lips. “Oh no, the date apparently went horribly wrong. My father made a complete fool of himself and accidentally tripped, knocking my mother into the fountain in the center of the village. There were probably thirty witnesses to the whole thing. My father’s family never let him live it down. When he asked my mother for a second chance, he brought two lilies. For their third date, he brought three. By the time they got married, he decorated the entire gathering hall with them.”

Crosshair hops up off his perch. “So why are you out here and not with them picking flowers, sweetheart?” He jeers.

You cock an eyebrow at him. “They’re dead.”

Crosshair stiffens at your response, but doesn’t retort. His brothers look at you with wide eyes.

“Bandit raid,” you say plainly. “I was seventeen. Took less than a day for our village to be cleared out. Those who tried to hide food or resist were laid out in the street. A number of us survived and we made our way to the capital for refuge. That’s where I met Argus, and he gave me a chance to do more with my life.”

Silence settles among you, the brothers unsure of what to say.

You clear your throat, breaking their stupor. “Ready to move out?”

“Uh, yeah. Let’s go.” Hunter says, jerking his head at his brothers.

As you swing your leg over and settle into your saddle, Hunter catches your eye. “The color. I like it.”

A soft smile crosses your face. “Thanks. I do too.”

Once again, you take the lead, but this time your group travels in silence. The next couple hours are uneventful. Occasionally, Tech or Wrecker would point something out and you’d give a few words on it. A couple times, Hunter called for the group to stop, and you reassured him whatever noise he heard was probably just a kybuck. ‘Bandits haven’t been spotted in this sector for years.’

As you round a bend in the trail, your mount slows out of instinct. You can hear Tech mutter under his breath when the old buildings make their appearance.

“Fascinating… Did you know this was here?” he asks.

You glance around at the familiar ruins of your past life. “This used to be my home.”

You pull your mount to a halt outside the largest building. “And it will be our base camp for the duration of your stay here.”

“Do you come back often?” Wrecker asks hesitantly.

“Mm-hmm,” you answer as you dismount. “Once every few moons. It’s quite peaceful out here.”

Crosshair’s brow furrows. According to your story, you all are currently standing at the center of the greatest tragedy of your life. He’s drawn to ask about your response, but his twin beats him to it.

“You said raiders destroyed your village, yet you continue to return. That’s very brave.”

You smile at Tech’s words, pulling your bags off your gorset. “I wouldn’t say brave. It took me a while to be able to come back, but look at this place,” you say, gesturing to the buildings overgrown with flora. “You can’t even see the scars of the raid any more. No people, no conflict, no pain. With a little bit of time, nature came back and healed, same as I did.”

Your response hits Crosshair in a peculiar way, but if you had asked him to describe it, he wouldn’t have had the words. Instead, he moves over beside you and gently takes a few bags from your shoulders before moving inside.

The next few weeks pass with little fuss. The boys tend to leave at 0700 to go about their scouting missions and return around 1800 for dinner. Every few days, you’ll go along to lead them to a new part of the sector or provide information on the area. Most days you’re left to your own devices. You spent your first few free days setting a trap line along you r well-known foraging routes. Hunter had protested your hunting and gathering. He tried to explain they had brought enough GAR rations for everyone, but you were happy enough to prepare warm meals for the team.

It didn’t take them long to crumble to your mouth-watering camp cooking, leaving the rations to be quick dinner solutions after long days. Hunter offered his talents once or twice to help you get a nice score, or Wrecker would help haul firewood back to camp. Tech even provided you with some new recipes you fused with Scarif-style dishes.

Hunter took quickly to you, as did Tech and Wrecker, but the fourth member of the team always kept his distance. Any words exchanged between the two of you were more often than not snarky comments. Hunter would chastise him for it, tell him to stow the attitude, but you knew Crosshair didn’t mean it. And it’s not like you didn’t dish it back.

On this particular day, you were on your own. Crosshair had been particularly grouchy the last couple rotations, so Hunter had benched him for the day. Crosshair’s excuse had been a migraine, so you left him sleeping at base camp with a blanket gently draped over him and a canteen of water within reach when you started out on your own hike.

It doesn’t take long to reach your shooting range. Your sniper’s roost is up on the crest of a hill that looks over a small hollow. Wooden targets are scattered from the undergrowth up into the branches of the dense forest around you.

After taking a few practice shots in a crouched position, you lower yourself down onto your stomach. Just as you shift your weight onto your side to pull an extra mag out of your belt pocket, something catches your ear. A twig snapping, and it was from something much bigger than a kybuck.

You freeze, waiting. After a couple seconds, you start creeping your hand down your thigh and gently grasp one of the throwing knives strapped there. The wind changes and something hits your nose, a scent - the camp soap. Smirking, you roll back onto your stomach like normal, keeping the knife tucked underneath you. You act like you're checking over your rifle, still intently listening. A couple seconds more and another twig snaps. Fast as lightning you roll over and send the knife flying. It buries itself into a tree - right next to his head.

“Are you karking crazy?!”

You sit up, a cheeky smile on your face. “That’s what you get, trying to sneak up on me, soldier.”

He rolls his eyes. “You did pretty good, sweetheart, but Hunter would’ve noticed sooner.”

“Hunter has been engineered with enhanced senses, that’s cheating,” you say, standing up and brushing the dirt off yourself. “Good to see you’re feeling better.”

Crosshair rolls his eyes. “I would’ve noticed sooner.”

You smirk. “You are also enhanced, that’s still cheating. When do you think I noticed?”

“Right before you threw the knife, when I snapped that twig on purpose,” he says, crossing his arms. “They’re stashed in your chestplate, you acted on instinct.”

“Wrong. I heard you when you stepped on that first twig, but I knew it was you when I smelled the camp soap. Very distinct,” you say with a wink.

Crosshair gives you a look, maybe one of awe, but he glosses over the moment, looking out onto the shooting range. “What is this place?”

“A shooting range. Never seen one of those, Crosshair?” You tease back, bending down to pick up your rifle..

He scoffs.

“My father built it and taught me to shoot here,” you explain. “Part of the reason why I come back every so often. Here the rest of the world just melts away.”

Crosshair steps closer to the crest of the hill. “Where are the targets?”

Gently, you heft your rifle up off the ground and hold it out to him. “Have a look.”

He hesitates. “Oh no, I-” Crosshair knows a sniper’s rifle is sacred. In the similar way as the Jedi and their lightsabers.

“It’s okay,” you reassure him. “I trust you.”

Crosshair’s eyes stay latched to yours as he gingerly lets you place your rifle in his waiting hands. “Not as fancy as your firepuncher, but I've made a few modifications,” you say proudly.

Crosshair turns your weapon over in his hands with a sense of reverence before taking his stance. His form is perfect, though that’s no surprise. Hunter and the others had told you all about their enhancements. You watch as Crosshair sweeps the scope over the range, taking inventory of the targets camouflaged in the greenery. One particular mark catches his eye.

“That one down there, how do you get to it?” He asks, pointing to one suspended in a tree and swaying gently in the wind.

You smile, that target in particular is placed at an odd angle relative to the sniper’s nest. “Take the shot and you’ll see.”

The sniper braces in his standing position and lets a blaster bolt fly. He nearly growls in frustration when the bolt barely hits the edge of the target. “What the-”

“Good shot,” you say, impressed.

“That’s not the center.” Crosshair sneers, lowering your rifle.

“You still hit it. I don’t think anyone else could have made it at that angle,” you reply.

“You show me then if you’re so good, sweetheart.”

Paying no mind to his snappy remark, you take your weapon back from him and lower into your crouched position. You center your sights on the target in question and wait a moment for it to stop bouncing as much. Once you’ve got its steady bouncing rhythm down, you move to focus on a shiny chunk of quartz sticking out of the hillside. Deep breath in. Deep breath out.

Your shot flies perfectly, hitting the quartz and ricochetting up into the dead center of the target. You look up at the Crosshair, making no effort to try to hide the smug look on your face.

“Tricky girl,” he says, his eyes narrowing.

“Got to consider all the angles,” you tease as you straighten back up.

Crosshair reaches to his belt and holds up a couple shiny discs. “I prefer these.”

“Smart,” you respond, shifting your weight into one hip. “And yet you still took the straight-on approach.”

He smirks at you as you stand up. “Thought it’d be best to be direct with you.”

“Oh yeah, what about?”

“I don’t get you,” he says plainly.

Your brow scrunches as you lean your rifle against a nearby tree. “What’s there to get?”

“Everything about you.” He shakes his head and runs his fingers through his silver hair. “I saw you when those scavengers came up on us scouting last week. You stared down the barrel of their weapons and tried to negotiate our way out. Then when they turned, you didn’t even flinch. You’re a good hunter, you’ve been feeding us this entire trip; yet you cleaned the wound on that kybuck’s flank and let it go instead of taking the easy score. Even with me, I- I can’t figure you out, nothing gets to you.”

It takes you a second to realize that’s the most words Crosshair has ever spoken to you, and they didn’t even come with a childish jab. You just shrug. “I learned it's best to make the most you can with what you’ve got. I try to give everyone a chance, no matter how we meet and I don’t take more than what I need. I don’t have time to let things get to me; there are much more important, more worthwhile things to be taken care of. And if I can’t let something go, I bring it here,” you finish, glancing out at your shooting range.

Crosshair looks you up and down a couple times, then turns his back to you to face the range. Then he speaks, so softly you barely catch it, “Do you mind if I let some things go here?”

A soft smile crosses your face. “Of course. Here.” You reach back over and hold your rifle out to him, which he takes without looking at you.

You can see his muscles shift as he lowers himself to the ground. Not wanting to intrude, you take a few steps back up the trail.

“Where are you going?”

“Oh, uh I was just going to go get some water from the stream, check my snares,” you respond, covering your true intentions.

“You won’t have your rifle,” Crosshair mutters.

“I have my side arm, I’ll be fine,” you reassure him.

A soft sigh drifts from his figure laying on the forest floor. “Please… stay. I can check the snares with you later.”

You try to hide your smile as you gently lower yourself to the ground, resting your back against a tree as Crosshair brings the scope of your rifle into position. And there you stay.

At first, Crosshair doesn’t say much. He just takes his shots at your range, adjusting things here and there. After a while, you lean your head against the tree trunk behind you and let your eyes close. The sun is filtering through the trees as it rises higher in the sky, and birds are softly chirping. It’s peaceful, like always, and the rhythmic pattern of Crosshair’s shots roll through the forest like a heartbeat.

You don’t know how much time has passed when you hear him shift.

“Here.”

Straightening up, you open your eyes and see he’s sitting cross legged, holding your rifle out.

You take it back from him and move to stand up.

“Where do you think you’re going?” he asks, still sitting on the ground.

You tilt your head at him, for him saying he couldn’t figure you out, he seems to be the odd one. “The snares?”

“It’s your turn to shoot.”

“Oh it’s fine,” you say, waving your hand.

You shift your weight again to stand, but this time Crosshair reaches out and grasps your bracer. “That’s what you were coming out here to do anyway, right? I interrupted you.”

His words are so different from the ones that normally pass between the two of you. Not gentle, necessarily, but less defensive. You take a breath before nodding your head, just barely. Crosshair scoots out of your way. If you weren’t so focused on making the space between you a place where he could be open, you might have giggled at the way he moved, still in his cross-legged position.

You slowly lower yourself onto your belly and bring your scope to your eye. Crosshair had adjusted things slightly, but strangely you didn’t mind. Usually it would irk you if someone had moved things on your rifle, but you had handed him your weapon of your own volition. It was nice to know that he felt so comfortable with you and had handled your rifle with such care and reverence. You take a few shots, aiming at various targets over the range.

As you sit up to replace the mag, you notice Crosshair is studying you intently. You smile. “What?”

The corner of his mouth twitches. “You’re a skilled sharpshooter. You even pace with your breath, impressive.”

You rock back on your heels. “Took me some time to get it, but practice makes perfect.”

Crosshair smirks at you, but not unkindly. “And that you are, nearly. Perfect- I mean…” He trails off. Again, You might have giggled at this newfound temperament, but you simply dust off your rifle a bit.

“Oh yeah? Got any pointers for me?” you reply.

The sniper moves closer to you. “If you’ll actually listen,” he jabs.

You chuckle. “I’m always listening.”

He gestures for you to take your prone position again and makes a few adjustments to your limbs. The time flies away from you as the two of you pass your rifle back and forth along with small conversation and stories. Crosshair doesn’t exactly soften, but he does open up to you a bit more.

In giving you some pointers, he’s the most comfortable you’ve seen him the whole mission. Instruction and leadership are clearly his elements. You’re surprised at how attentive he is, continuously checking in that the adjustments he makes feel correct for your body.

‘Every marksman is different.’ He had said. ‘Even if it’s the ‘correct’ way, if it doesn’t feel natural for you, then you’ll be tense or unstable and then it’s all pointless.’

You learn more than just that. Before you know it, Crosshair is telling you about his brothers, more than even Tech had told you. ‘Hunter’s helmet is specially modified to dampen his senses when needed.’ - ‘Although Tech is the smartest at basically everything, Wrecker beats him with weapons and explosives.’ - ‘Tech and I came from the same tube.’ - ‘Wrecker can tell you every ingredient in a ration pack just by tasting it.’

Some facts surprise you, like the fact that while Hunter has enhanced eyesight across the whole spectrum, Crosshair is actually farsighted and he has his holopad on the biggest text size to avoid wearing the reading glasses Tech made him. Other facts aren’t as much of a surprise, like the scar on Hunter’s chin was a gift from Crosshair when they were roughhousing as cadets.

Crosshair even tells you what it was like growing up as ‘special’ clones on Kamino. ‘Clones are outsiders among the nat-borns of the galaxy. We were outsiders even among the clones.’ - ‘The advanced growth rate meant that for a few years from bio age 7-18 our joints always hurt. The bumps and bruises from training just blended it all together.’

You had no idea Crosshair could be so much of a talker, and he even chuckles a few times at his own stories or your side remarks. The conversation was far from annoying, though. You sat and listened intently, basking in his sudden willingness to share. Without warning, your chrono beeps, cutting one of his sentences short. You glance down and gasp at the time.

“Everything okay?” Crosshair asks, his brow furrowing.

“We’ve been here all day.” You say. “We have to hurry if we’re going to walk the traps and get back to camp to meet the others.”

Crosshair shoots to his feet, his jaw tense.

Guilt settles in your stomach. “I’m sorry.” You look up at him, but he refuses to meet your eyes. “I was enjoying it here, but-”

“We have to go.” He says in a gruff voice. The walls are back up.

You solemnly gather your gear and the two of you walk your snare lines in silence. You’re tempted to respark the conversation you two had been sharing, but you can tell the moment is lost, and pushing would be futile.

When you arrive back at base camp, the others are already milling about preparing the dinner rations. Hunter glances between you and Crosshair as you enter the camp, but says nothing. Not even when he notices Crosshair is the one carrying the score from your traps.

Dinner is served as normal, but Crosshair takes his into the building serving as your bunk house rather than eating around the fire with the rest of you. You try to keep that sinking feeling out of your stomach to no avail. Had you pushed him? He was opening up to you, being receptive. Why did your chrono have to bring you crashing back to reality?

Your thoughts continue to swirl in your head as you wash up after dinner and you barely notice when Hunter appears beside you at the basin.

“You okay?” He mutters, picking up a dish and swirling it in the water.

“Mm, yeah,” you mutter.

A chuckle rumbles deep in Hunter’s chest. “I saw you two today.”

You can feel the Sergeant’s implication pressing in on you. “Oh yeah, he just got bored and wanted something to do.”

Hunter shakes his head. “No, that’s not it. He likes you.”

“He has a funny way of showing it,” you jab back, shoving the memory of your day at the range deep into the back of your mind.

“He’s just...” Hunter sighs. “Figuring it out on his own terms. He takes patience. You’ve been doing well so far, just hold out a little longer and he’ll open up to you.”

‘He was…’ You think to yourself. Instead you finish wiping the last dish and flick the water off your hands. “Well I don’t have forever,” you say shortly, turning to walk into the bunks.

Grumbling nonsense to yourself, you turn the corner to your room and your breath catches in your throat. On your bed lies a single item.

A bright orange and maroon lily.

After that day at your shooting range, little changes in your interactions with Crosshair. His snarky comments return, but his demeanor towards you does begin to shift. His morning jab was now accompanied by a cup of caf complete with a splash of milk, just the way you liked it. His hand was now the first to reach out when unloading gear to lighten your load, though it still came with some iteration of a sly ‘sweetheart’. There was even a time you had fallen asleep by the campfire and you woke with a blanket draped over you. Hunter swore up and down that Crosshair had been the last one to bed that night.

With two weeks left in the squad’s mission, you make your way to the range alone, lost in thought. At 0400, your comm had beeped with a message from Argus: you would be immediately moving on to your next assignment upon your return to the Coalition Command Base. A scuffle on Scarif’s opposite pole needed your attention, and reportedly the territory was still severely hostile.

Though you didn’t want to admit it, your time hosting Squad 99 had been little short of a vacation. Just last night, Hunter had pulled you aside and offered you a spot on the team as a ‘Civilian Consultant.’

‘Even though we’re supposed to be a clone squad, it’s a way of skirting the rules.’ He had said with a wink. ‘It wouldn’t pay much, but you’d be taken care of.’

You had told him you’d think about it, but you couldn’t imagine leaving Scarif. Your people need you. As your thoughts tumble in your head, you nearly step on something as you break the treeline into your sniper’s nest. Not something - someone.

“You’re very observant today,” Crosshair groans as he stands up.

“Sorry,” you say, shaking your head trying to clear it.

Crosshair looks down at you, his brow furrowed. “Hey,” he says, his voice soft. “What is it?”

The moment your eyes meet his, the words start tumbling from your mouth. You tell him everything. The comm from Argus that arrived before the boys rose that morning. The stress that’s been on your shoulders as the First Lieutenant of the Coalition.

You tell him about the pit in your stomach that grows every time you see a starving child, or a family ripped apart by raiders. Even about the pity you feel for the dying light in the eyes of bandits you arrest. How your homeworld was dying and there was little you could do about it.

You find yourself telling him about Hunter’s offer, and your temptation to take it. How the allure of staying with the squad you’d grown fond of was near irresistible, but the guilt at your eagerness to leave your homeworld behind was clawing at your chest.

Before you know it your breath is rising in your throat, your pulse quickening, your head beginning to spin, when suddenly your world becomes dark. It takes you a second to realize that you didn’t pass out, but your face is pressed to something… warm. Something solid and stable.

The scent of the camp soap surrounds you as Crosshair presses you to his chest, one arm curling around you, the other cradling the back of your head. Your breathing begins to steady and your heartbeat slows to match the steady beating of his heart under your cheek.

After a while you find it in yourself to mutter “Cross-”

“Shh.” He cuts you off, ruffling your hair slightly. “Don’t speak, just breathe for a second.”

Another couple minutes like that and you feel your body begin to relax. Crosshair releases you from his grip and you feel your weight on your own two feet again. Again you try to speak. “I’m so-”

“Don’t say you’re sorry.” He cuts you off again. “You have a lot going on and a lot to think about. Let the rest of the galaxy melt away for a bit. That’s why you’re here, right?” He says with a smirk.

You let out a breath. “I suppose.” Then you realize. “Hey, speaking of - what are you doing here?”

Crosshair rubs the back of his neck. “Ehh. Needed some time to think?”

“You don’t sound so sure.”

He just shrugs. “I’ve never been… good with talking.”

You smile but take a step back from him. “You don’t have to be. We don’t have to talk at all.” You say, your words gentle.

Crosshair’s deep honey eyes look down at you. “The thing is… I want to. I just don’t…” He sighs, then leans over to pull something from his pack laying nearby. “Here.”

You look down at what he’s trying to hand you. It’s two maroon and orange lilies. Their bright colors stand out against his dark gear. You take them from him, delicately and look back up. His eyes are searching your face for any sign of caution.

His shoulders relax with relief when you take one of the flowers and tuck it behind your ear. “How’s the practice going?” you ask with a smile.

Crosshair’s face brightens a bit at the mention of sharpshooting. “Good. I was hoping you would be here today. I wanted to show you something new.”

Gingerly, he takes one of your hands in his and eases your rifle off your shoulder. Rather than handing you your weapon, however, he leans it up against a nearby tree.

“Cross, what-”

“Shh” He hushes you gently, taking the second lily from your other hand and dropping the stem into the barrel of your rifle. He guides you over to the sniper’s ridge and picks his own weapon up off the ground. “Here.”

Your eyes widen when you realize what his intentions are. He’s giving you his firepuncher.

Ever so carefully, you let him release his prized rifle into your grip. “Hmm,” you hum as your hands dip with its weight. “I assumed it would be heavy but… wow.”

“Start on the ground, then we’ll work you up to standing.” Crosshair says, his voice steady. “Adjust the scope how you need it.”

You get settled and with him crouched beside you, you bring the scope up to your view. The sounds of the forest start to melt away as you zone in on a target.

A little puff of air hits your ear as Crosshair leans close. "Be prepared for the recoil," he mutters in a low voice. "It’s strong, but don’t fight it. Whenever you’re ready."

Deep breath in. Deep breath out.

The blaster bolt is nearly silent as it flies home to the center of the target.

There your day melts away again as you and Crosshair pass a weapon back and forth. Fewer words accompany his rifle, but it feels as though more is said.

The last two weeks of Squad 99’s mission pass uneventfully, but there is another shift. There’s a shift in how Crosshair treats you. After your first day at the range, he had warmed more to you, but now he’s like a tooka always at your heels. He’s not overbearing, just always present.

You’re catching yourself smiling at his little quirks more and more. The way he can fall asleep almost anywhere, curled up in a tight ball. The way he claims he drinks his caf black, but you spot him sneaking sugar into it out of the corner of your eye. The way he’s always watching, even if his back is to you.

He also seems more physically drawn to you. Of course, he never crosses a line, but in subtle ways. He tends to brush against you more when moving about your daily routines. His hands seem to linger on your body when adjusting your sniping form, and you could feel the heat of his palm on your lower back when he steadied you after you stumbled on a trail. His voice seems to drop and soften when he speaks to you, he nearly sounds like Hunter - it’s definitely genetic.

Of course Hunter noticed too. After your second day with Crosshair at the shooting range, Hunter had pulled you aside again. You expected an ‘older brother talking to’ where he either would grill you about your intentions or warn you to stay away, but the first words out of Hunter’s mouth had shocked you.

“You’re good for him, you know.”

“I beg your pardon?” You had instinctively said back.

Hunter placed his hand on your shoulder, you knew it was a gesture of his affection. “You’re good for him. With you, he can just exist.”

“You’re imagining things, Hunter.”

“I promise you I’m not. I know he can be difficult, but it’s not because he’s apathetic. It’s just a challenge for him to put words to what’s going on in that head of his.”

“There are more ways to understand someone than with words.”

Hunter laughed at your remark. “Like I said, you’re a good match for him. In more ways than one.”

Hunter left the conversation at that. He didn’t push, but he would tease you under his breath about it. You hated to admit it, but Hunter was right, you had grown soft on the sniper and you would come to see the effect you had on him. His shoulders were less tense, his brow furrowed less, he turned his face to the sun more. Maybe there was something growing between you and him, maybe it was something worth exploring.

‘Karking Siths Hells. Collect yourself, woman.’ You scold yourself. You shake your head to clear your thoughts as your gorset moves around a group of trees.

Here you are. The day had finally come for Clone Force 99 to ship back out. You didn’t want to admit it but it was hitting you harder than you thought it would. You were trying to keep that armor up, but you were sadly failing.

When you reach the Coalition’s Command Base, the brothers immediately start moving their things back to their ship. Sadly, Argus had been called to the Capital so he wasn’t there to welcome you back. As you helped the brothers repack, each made sure to say their goodbyes.

Tech held his hand out, and you moved to return the handshake. Instead you found him grasping your forearm in a much more meaningful gesture. “It’s a physical form of farewell from our mother culture of Mandalore. It’s a symbol of respect and honor. You have been a wonderful host, and I will miss your company. You do not know how much it means that you not only answered my questions but returned them with some of your own.”

Wrecker was next. Your hands seemed to dance in the intricate handshake you two had created. “I’ll miss having ya around!” He boomed. “I think you ruined the ration packs for me forever with your camp cooking. And Lieutenant? Thank you, for seeing us as more than clones, it’s been refreshing.”

Hunter pulled you into a tight hug like many times before. “I know I don’t need to say it, but take care of yourself. Keep in touch, I need someone to chat with that hasn’t thrown up on me.”

This made you laugh for the first time today. “That could be arranged,” you tease back.

Before Hunter replies he looks at something behind you. Turning around you see it’s Crosshair walking towards you. You meet him halfway, searching his face for any sign of what mood he’s in.

“Where did you disappear off to?” You ask trying to ease into a goodbye.

“Nowhere important.” He curtly replies, shoving his helmet on his head.

You bite your lip. “Okay… Best of luck, Crosshair. Stay safe out there.”

“You too.” He holds his hand out, but unlike Tech he just gives you a simple, firm handshake. Only he doesn’t let go.

You want to say something, but what would be the right thing? The two of you always seemed to communicate through actions more than words. There you two stand for a moment, awkwardly holding your handshake, and your eyes drift for a moment.

When you look back at Crosshair he’s moving. Before you can register what’s happening his helmet is smacking you on the forehead, causing you to cry out and clap a hand to the sore spot.

Did he just headbutt you? Or was he trying to kiss you and forgot his helmet was on?

He lets go of your hand like he was shocked, standing straight as a pole. “I uh… I’ve got to go. Keep practicing, stay alive.”

Without another word he walks, more like runs, away from you and up the Marauder’s ramp.

Hunter appears at your side obviously trying to contain his laughter. “That was interesting.”

“What exactly just happened?” You grumble, rubbing your forehead.

“A very Crosshair farewell.” Hunter sighs. “Look, I know that we aren’t exactly built for relationships or even plain friendships outside of the GAR, but… don’t be a stranger. We’ve all come to like you and Crosshair, he won’t say it anytime soon, but he needs you.”

Hunter squeezes your shoulder and jogs up the Marauder’s ramp, leaving you standing alone in the ship yard.

Sighing and shaking your head, you turn and walk to the Command Center to gather the intel for your new deployment. After sitting through a painfully redundant briefing meeting with a couple squadron leaders with sticks up their asses, you stop by the cantina for dinner. The food weighs heavy on your tongue like glue. It doesn’t taste nearly as good as beans and rice Scarif stir fry around a campfire with a choice four troopers.

The supply depot is your next stop to restock your personal supplies and check that your shuttle was loaded correctly. You still have a half hour before your crew is due for deployment, so you head over to the base stables to see a friend.

Your gorset has his nose on the ground of his stall, snuffling around for remnants of his evening grain, but he raises his head at the sound of your footsteps.

“Hey there, boy.” You coo softly at him. “What are we gonna do, huh?”

As you scratch behind his ear, your gorset turns his head for you to get to the other side and a gasp leaves your lips when you see his mane.

Woven into your gorset’s thick locks are three bright orange lilies.

Your back aches as you make the hike from the ruins to your range. Your last assignment had been far from comfortable. The relief mission was supposed to be non combative, just transport of supplies and giving aid to the rebuilding effort in Northern Sector 7, but of course you weren’t that lucky. A band of storms blew through while you were there, sending refugees into the town you were based in.

Your forces were already spread thin and the influx of people hadn’t helped. Then of course the raiders came. You were able to deescalate the situation the first time they showed up, but the second time they stormed the town with ballistics. The stockpile was pretty depleted at that point so at the very least the Coalition didn’t lose much.

Argus had taken pity on you and said you had a week before he’d even think about shipping you out again, so you decided to go home for a few days. You hadn’t been back in months, much longer than usual, not since them.

The peaceful ruins of your village had felt emptier that morning when you’d arrived. You half-expected Wrecker to come barreling through the brush asking about dinner, or for Tech to appear beside you with some obscure question about your home world.

You had to admit you did miss Hunter, he had his way of knowing what was going on with you without even asking. Though the temptation was there to take his offer and join the squad, you just couldn’t leave Scarif and her people. Hunter didn’t blame you though, he knew the pressure you were under as the Coalition’s First Lieutenant. Who would’ve done the job if you left?

You had exchanged comm frequencies with Hunter, but hadn’t heard anything from them, about anything. Not that you were expecting to. The fourth member of Squad 99 lingered on your mind more than the others, but it’s not like you were pining after him.

Crosshair had made you no promises, nor had you him. You just wondered where he was, what his missions were. You wondered if he was okay, not just physically, but under the armor he put up around himself.

The sun is already high in the sky when you reach your range. You take a couple minutes to go over your rifle, then take your standing position.

Your sore muscles shift as you bring your rifle up to your view and set the barrel on the rest you added to your shoulder plate. You sweep the range, checking the status of your targets, but stutter when you notice something nestled in the foliage.

A bright orange lily.

Shaking your head, you keep sweeping the range, then you spot another lily. Then another, and another. Your mouth drops open as you lower your weapon. It couldn't be, could it?

The undergrowth behind you rustles and you know it’s him before he speaks. "Good to see you're practicing. We need you again. I need you again."

#cloneflowerficevent #clone trooper crosshair #crosshair #bad batch crosshair #tbb crosshair #the bad batch crosshair #crosshair x reader #tbb #bad batch #the bad batch #ct 9904 #crosshair bad batch #crosshair the bad batch #crosshair tbb #forever lilies #lilies

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deadgirlwalking91 · 5 months

Text

new guitarspear fic

'thank you for the venom', chapter one: 'if this is what you want, then fire at will'

Summary

“Is that all it takes to make you moan? You’d be such a freak in the sheets, Lieutenant.”

“Hilarious. Respectfully, Sir, go deep throat a cactus.”

***

Despite working together for years, Adam and Lute can't stand each other.

He thinks she's got a stick up her ass.

She thinks he's an idiot.

When Lute goes behind Adam's back to Sera and proposes they change their training regime for Extermination Day, Adam is hellbent on making her life miserable - until he learns it's in his best interest to work with her, not against her.

The problem is, neither of them counted on unexpected feelings getting in the way of their jobs, which makes things... tense for them.

What happens when one day, they accidentally take things a little too far?

***

Chapter One

Adam & Lute’s Office, Exorcist Training Centre, Heaven

Lute knew she’d messed up this time.

If she had an ordinary boss, she might only cop a slight reprimand for going over his head – an uncomfortable conversation, promises of ‘I’ll never do it again’, waiting for time to pass until the awkwardness of the situation wore off and they could go back to business as usual.

Unfortunately, her boss was far from what most would consider an ordinary angel – both in title and temperament. Which consequently meant his reaction to her undermining him would be… hostile, to say the least.

“I can’t fucking believe you went to Sera without talking to me first!” Adam bellowed, pounding his fist on his desk. Old coffee cups, abandoned paperwork and scattered stationary threatened to spill over the edge, littering the already cluttered floor around his workstation. “Fucking low blow babe, even for a kiss-ass like you.”

Don’t rise to his anger. Keep a cool head. Explain your case.

“Sir,” Lute laced her fingers together and placed them on the surface of her own desk, ready to state her case for taking her proposal directly to the High Seraphim and bypassing her superior. In contrast to her Commander, her own workspace was neatly arranged, not a hint of messiness to be found. She cleared her throat. “I tried to talk to you about this a week ago, and you dismissed me.”

“You haven’t said shit to me.”

‘Yes I have,’ she thought to herself, resisting the urge to retort back and begin a verbal tennis match. She knew she’d win – after all, she was much smarter than Adam, and could hold a sentence without swearing, cursing or a sexual innuendo. Stooping to his level would just escalate the situation further than where it needed to be, and if it got to that level she was certain things would get ugly. Fast.

“I’m positive we have had this conversation, Sir.”

“Nup. We haven’t.”

Lute inhaled slowly and deliberately through her nose, trying to supress her already-rising frustration. He was being particularly petulant today, and she found her patience with him was quickly wearing thin. Squaring her shoulders, she continued. “Sir, we were on our way to the eight o’clock agility training session. I remember it clearly as you were complaining that you had a meeting with Sera later that morning. I thought it would be an opportune moment to mention it to you as it would be fresh in your mind when you met with her.”

Adam snorted and leaned forward onto his elbows; the golden facial expression on the screen of his mask fixed into a jeer. “And you think that was a good time to approach me about one of your lame ideas? I thought you were smarter than that. What’s my first rule of working together, sweetie?”

Don’t throw a knife at him. Don’t threaten to disembowel him – as much as you want to. Stay calm, Lieutenant.

“With all due respect, Sir –” Lute growled, her professional tone wavering. “I hardly think that putting limits on when I can and cannot converse with you is conducive to creating a professional working relationship with you.”

“Firstly, we don’t have a professional working relationship, babe. It’s pretty fucking black and white, actually – I’m your boss, you listen to me. It’s not that difficult a concept to grasp.” Lute opened her mouth in anger to protest, but Adam held up a single finger, signalling for her to wait. Dumb move. That single gesture just fuelled the intense rage that was quickly building inside her.

“Secondly, the rule is don’t talk to me about important shit before nine o’clock. Chances are I won’t remember it because I’ll be half asleep, and I’ll give even less of a fuck about what you’ve got so say because you’ve pissed me off before I've had my morning coffee.”

“I’d rather not talk to you at all,” Lute said through gritted teeth. “But, I unlike you, actually care about Extermination Day, and if we continue how we’re currently track-”

“And I, unlike you,” Adam said mockingly in a high-pitched voice that was supposed to sound like Lute’s, “couldn’t give a shit about how many Sinners we slay next Extermination Day, or whatever the fuck it was that you ran to Sera about. The only thing that matters is that we show our faces in Hell on Extermination Day and slaughter some demon ass. That’s it. Those fuckers are scared shitless of us anyway, so it doesn’t matter how many we kill, we'll always have the upper hand. It’s called working smarter, not harder, babe.”

He cannot be serious right now. Does he not realise that our kill rate is slipping, year on year? How this might affect us long-term? That Sinners might start to fight back once they figure out that we’re starting to let our guard down?

“So what you’re telling me,” Lute started, now barely able to contain her vitriol, “Is that you don’t give a flying f-”

“Exactly.” Adam stood up and smirked down at Lute, the smug look of satisfaction on his mark now too much for Lute to bear.

Fuck you, you arrogant prick.

“Conversation’s over. Get back to actually doing your job, Lieutenant, instead of wasting my time with your insignificant, petty bullshit. Don’t fucking pull a stunt like this again.”

Adam strode towards the door of their shared office, pausing briefly as his hand rested on the door handle, his smirk intensifying. “Oh, one more thing.”

“What?” she snapped, head now in her hands. She couldn’t even physically look at him.

“I’m pretty sure we just established that I’m your superior, so a bit of respect would be nice to hear, Lieutenant.”

“What, sir?” Her hands pulled in frustration at her silvery-white bangs that had fallen into her eyes.

“Be a good girl and finish that overdue paperwork for me, would you? I’ve got more important shit to do. It’d be a good reminder for you of what your job actually entails.”

That’s it.

Lute had tried to play nice. Tried to do the right thing and raise her suggestion in a polite, professional manner. Took an alternative avenue once she realised her attempts at improvement were going nowhere. She’d even attempted to sit calmly through his dressing-down without reacting to his bullshit. But now?

She’d finally snapped.

Agilely leaping over her desk so she was in front of his, she picked up one of the multiple long-forgotten mugs that cluttered the surface and hurled it in his general direction.

Lute hadn’t really expected for it to hit him – the act of picking up the mug and throwing it had been born out of built-up frustration and anger at her imbecile boss, a need to expel some of the hatred that had built up over the course of their most recent conversation. The fact that it had connected with the side of his head and shattered into at least a hundred tiny ceramic pieces?

Just a bonus, really. It was just a damn shame it didn’t leave a mug-sized hole in his head.

‘Good. Hope it fucking hurt.’ She allowed herself a moment of satisfaction, taking in his surprise as he lifted a hand to his head and checked for blood. Time to let him have it.

“If anything,” she hissed in a low, dangerous voice. She was now moving towards Adam, one hand clenched by her side, the other pointed threateningly at his face. “Let me get this one thing through your thick head – though more than anything right now, I’d love to drive my sword between your eyes, carve up your tiny, pathetic excuse for a brain and force feed it back to you raw.”

Adam opened his mouth to respond, his surprise at her tone quickly turning to fury, but she didn’t give him the courtesy. He needed to hear this – graphic acts of violence and all.

“Shut it,” she snarled. “Shut the fuck up and just fucking listen for once, as difficult as that is for you. Because I’m not your fucking secretary. I’m not your assistant. I’m here to do my job – which is to provide training and mentorship to the other Exorcists, because you’re too damn incompetent to do it yourself.” Her normally restrained voice grew louder. “Perhaps if you focused more on doing your job, instead of screw-”

“Geez,” Adam drawled, “You’re a fucking little mouthy cunt, aren’t you?” He gripped the wrist of Lute’s outstretched arm, rage etched all over his mask, which had started glitching ever so slightly. Not a good sign.

Ouch. Lute may be the better aim of the two, and more agile, but Adam was had the upper hand when it came to brute strength. She was positive that his hold on her wrist was going to bruise – that was going to be fun to explain once it was noticed. She continued to stare him down, never daring to break eye contact or even blink. She couldn’t let him think he’d won. Even if he did have her arm in a death grip.

She’d rather fall to the depths of Hell than admit defeat to him.

Rap-rap-rap.

“Adam? Lute?” a soft voice called from behind the door. “Is everything alright? I heard something break just now.”

Sera.

Seizing her moment, Lute yanked her wrist from Adam’s grasp and made towards her desk once again.

“Come in, Your Highness,” she called in an uncharacteristically chirpy voice. “Adam accidentally dropped his coffee mug, and it broke, which is what you must have heard. I was just showing him the best way to clean up the mess.”

Adam shot her a filthy look and stomped back to his desk, muttering incoherently under his breath – though Lute was sure she heard the word bitch at least twice.

The handle clicked, and Sera poked her head through the gap between the door and the frame. She frowned at the scattered ceramic pieces that lay forgotten on the floor.

“Are you two… having a disagreement?” she asked concernedly, her large, almond-shaped eyes noticing the glowering looks the two angels were shooting each other. “I thought I could hear shouting.”

“Yeah, we’re fine Sera,” Adam waved his hand dismissively at Lute. “Lieutenant here was just running some ideas past me for next month’s training plan and got a bit carried away.”

‘As if he hadn’t completely flown off the handle just minutes ago’ Lute thought angrily to herself but feigned a smile and nodded politely. Going toe-to-toe with Adam in private was one thing, but she prided herself on keeping her composure around the Seraphim and other senior angels in Heaven. They didn’t need to know about their little disagreement.

Or the hundreds of disagreements that had occurred before this one. None had been quite this heated, though.

This was the only one that had almostended in violence, though. That was a first.

“Oh, excellent.” Sera moved into the room and shut the door behind herself. “What do you think, Adam? Your Lieutenant has some brilliant ideas, which I personally can’t wait to see executed over the coming months. Her presentation to me was very promising.”

The look on Adam’s face was positively feral now. Lute relished this moment and made a mental note to file this look away in her memory bank – seeing him quietly seethe in the presence of his direct superior, knowing it was in his best interest to keep his cool was something she was going to enjoy. To rile him up further, she propped an elbow on her desk, rested her chin in her hand and shot him a quick, satisfied smirk.

Cop that, asshole.

“Yeah,” Adam grumbled, suddenly busying himself with the paperwork on his desk. “They’re good.”

“Well,” Sera clapped her hands together and smiled at Lute, who bowed her head in respect in return. To hear that her proposal was highly regarded by one of the most senior angels in Heaven was praise beyond what she ever expected to receive for her work.

It was certainly more than what her direct boss had ever given her.

“That settles that, then. Lieutenant, if you could please come with me, I’d like to add a couple of things to your training program that I’ve thought of.” Lute nodded and rose from her desk once more, gathering her bag and notes. Noticing that Sera had turned to open the door once more, Adam quickly shot Lute a one-fingered salute to bid her farewell. Lute simply mouthed, “get fucked” in return.

“Oh, Adam, I see you’re working on the monthly training incident report that I asked you to turn in a week ago,” Sera said as he hastily went back to pretending to review his work. “Make sure it’s on my desk by five o’clock, please. I need it for a meeting tomorrow with the other Seraphim.” She turned and glided out the door, Lute only a few footsteps behind – though she took care to accidentally bump Adam’s shoulder with her own as she trailed behind Sera.

“Kiss-ass.”

“Dick.”

Lute closed the door with a little more force than necessary – just for good measure, knowing it would infuriate Adam to no end. Just to rub her victory in a little more. Because, after this round?

The score was Lute – one, Adam – zero.

Laughing to herself, she was sure she could hear Adam cursing her with language colourful enough to paint an entire rainbow as she strolled down the hall to Sera’s office.

Bring it on.

***

The Common Room, Exorcist Training Centre, Heaven

The Training Centre common room was abuzz with idle chatter and echoes of laughter as Lute entered later that morning, determined to continue her work far, far away from Adam. No formal training sessions had been scheduled for that day – the result of his poor timetabling skills, Lute was sure of it.

She would have expected the Exorcists to be using their ‘free’ time to hit the gym, or initiate sparring sessions with one another. Perhaps use the opportunity to enhance their weapon skills or, if they were particularly ambitious, simulation training. Slaying holographic demons was almost as satisfying as the real thing. Just a lot less bloody.

The reality was, on personal development days, the Training Centre turned into a goddamn sorority house. Hundreds of incredibly beautiful women congregated together in the common room, not a helmet or uniform in sight as they lazed about in their casual clothes. Some were huddled together in small groups, hands wrapped around mugs of steaming coffee or tea, giggling at whatever the latest gossip happened to be - usually centred around Adam’s latest squeeze. Others congregated around tables, playing card games (the most popular one lately, Lute had noticed, was an extremely competitive game involving red, green, blue, yellow and black cards that seemed to invoke a lot of shouting and name-calling).

The sight of it all never failed to give Lute a thumping headache. This wasn’t a fucking kindergarten, this was supposed to be work, dammit.

It wasn’t that she was against fun. She knew how to enjoy herself. There was nothing better than cosying up on the couch after a long day at the Training Centre with a hot chocolate, blanket and comforting book. Or an intense, two-hour gym session, sweating her frustrations away – a ritual she religiously undertook every single day, no excuses.

Sometimes, when Lute really wanted to spoil herself, she’d have a bubble bath. Now, that was wild.

Sighing, she located one of the more comfortable, vacant armchairs and slumped into it, allowing her eyes to close for just a moment. Normally she’d redirect the Exorcists to go and use their time more productively but after her earlier verbal sparring match with Adam, she needed a moment to relax before she got stuck into the fresh paperwork Sera had assigned her.

Sera loved paperwork.

Only three more days until I can start to turn this shitshow around.

“You look like hell.”

Lute chuckled softly. Without looking, she knew exactly who had greeted her in such a matter-of-fact way – it was the only person she’d allow to do so without punishment. Opening her eyes, she was graced by the presence of a petite angel perched on the arm of her chair, her soft red, almond-shaped eyes crinkled into a look of concern. She handed Lute a mug of steaming, black coffee which she graciously accepted with a wry smile. This morning’s events called for extra caffeine to get her through the rest of the day.

What an angel.

“Thanks, Vaggie. Rough morning in the office again.”

“Ugh. What did he do this time?”

One of Lute’s favourite things about Vaggie was how she was certain she was the only other Exorcist in the lounge who openly hated Adam as much as she did. Probably because she was one of the only other soldiers who he hadn’t taken to his bed over the years. They both often joked that he was the sole reason Vaggie was a lesbian, that the First Man was so repulsive that he alone caused her to swear off all men.

Lute didn’t have her sexuality as an excuse as to why she’d never slept with him. She just straight up hated him. Plus, it would be highly unprofessional. And he was a cretin.

Did I mention that I hate him?

“He found out I took my proposal to Sera.” Lute took a long sip from the cup, the scalding liquid almost burning her tongue. Perfection. “Then proceeded to lose his shit because he forgot that I’d tried to talk to him about it before I approached her. He thought that I’d undermined him.”

Vaggie rolled her eyes. “Typical. How did it end? Did he threaten to leave you in Cannibal Town next Extermination Day again?”

Speaking of cannibalism, I threatened to feed his own brains to him. That’s normal, right?

“Um, not quite.” Lute began, taking another sip of coffee. “I might have accidentally-on-purpose thrown a mug at his head.”

Also totally normal.

“I’m so proud of you. Did you make him bleed?”

“Sadly not, but there’s always next time.”

Vaggie grinned, clinking her own mug against Lute’s. “I’ll drink to that.”

“Amen. He then called me a mouthy cunt and I’m about ninety percent sure one of us would have caused grievous bodily harm to the other if Sera didn’t walk in at that exact moment. The cherry on top is that she came to tell him we’re going ahead with my plans.” She set her empty mug down on a nearby table and grinned up at Vaggie, who had now crossed her legs and somehow still managed to stay perfectly balanced on the arm of her chair. Tiny little thing, she was. “You should have seen his face, Vaggie. It was glorious. I’m surprised he didn’t self-combust in anger.”

“If only.” Vaggie downed the rest of her drink. “So, if Sera’s approved the plan – congrats, by the way, we need to celebrate - when do you start whipping us into shape?”

“Monday morning. We’re going to announce it in here during the morning address, before we move into the training rooms.” Lute surveyed the Exorcists lounging about. “Don’t know how the girls will take it, though. Can’t say I’ve scheduled too many days like this.”

“It won’t be easy at first,” Vaggie warned. “They’re too used to this kind of freedom.”

“I know, and if Adam undermine-”

“UNO!”

Lute and Vaggie whipped their heads around simultaneously at the sudden high-pitched squeal, Vaggie almost losing her balance and toppling off the armchair in the process. A group of five Exorcists were at a nearby table, playing the colourful card game that seemed to be all the rage.. One was grinning madly as she clutched a single card to her chest.

“What even is that?”

Vaggie’s eyes widened.

“Seriously? You’ve never played Uno? I know you’re a hermit Lute, but come on.”

“No,” Lute admitted, “Who would I play with anyway, besides you?”

“Fair point. But – and I say this with love – I’m worried that you’ve thrown yourself into your work a little too much lately, especially with this new program you’ve created. You need to relax a little.”

“What does it look like I’m doing now?” Lute grumbled. “If I’m not training, working, or exercising, I’m relaxing.”

“Lute,” Vaggie laughed. “I could see how tense you are as soon as you walked in here – and to be honest, you’d be uptight even if you didn’t have a crappy morning. This isn’t chilling out. Relaxing is letting your hair down, getting a drink after training with the girls. Playing cards,” She nodded towards the group of angels, the girl who was holding one card now picking multiple others up from a pile, cursing her friends as they all giggled amongst each other. “Try it, you might enjoy it. It’s actually pretty fun, once you get the hang of it. I absolutely annihilated Scout the other week, she wouldn’t talk to me for three days.”

“Maybe. It’s probably blurring the lines between me being their superior and being their friend, though.”

“Oh yeah,” Vaggie said dryly. “And you don’t think them taking turns being Adam’s flavour of the week blurs any lines, do you?”

Dammit. She’s got a point.

Lute screwed up her nose in disgust.

“That’s different. I’m professional, he’s… not.”

“I’m not saying sleep with them, geez.” Vaggie rolled her eyes and slid into a standing position. “I’m just suggesting maybe try being friendly with the other girls, that’s all.”

“Fine. Once the program’s under way. If they don’t hate me for kicking their asses and making them actually work.”

“You may be a hardass, but nobody’s gonna hate you.” Vaggie held out her hand, motioning for Lute to take it. “Come on. Let’s grab lunch, I’m starving.”

Would it be so bad if I let my guard down… just a little?

Lute took her friend’s hand, allowing herself to be pulled up off the seat. She grimaced slightly at the tenderness in her wrist where Adam had grabbed her – no doubt there’d be a bruise there tomorrow.

“Alright, let’s go.”

Vaggie slung her arm around her friend’s shoulders as they walked towards the cafeteria together. “Buckle up, buttercup. Shit’s about to get interesting.”

***

Chapter Two

#guitarspear #guardrock #lute x adam #adam x lute #hazbin hotel lute #hazbin lute #hazbin hotel adam #hazbin adam #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel fanfic #guitarspear fic

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pinkverbena · 1 month

Text

「➤ F&H 1946: Pav's extra story - some enemies (drawings and concepts) + interactions between two idiots.

Three months of work, it's not much, i would have liked to illustrated more, but was fun at least...

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[ content - archive ]

//CAUTION!: Violence, mutilation, mentions of torture, abuse, certain signs of trauma, Funger experience, labor exploitation and others.

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ACT 1 > Kaiser's cult

■ An alternate version of the Bremen Elite Trooper, it seems that is infected with...huh, a parasite?, or maybe it is a parasite that took over the body, also have a yellow cloth around, funny.

■ This woman of unknown origin is said to have been a spy for Bremen in the past, or rather, there are several clones of her corpse spread throughout the neighborhood, with old glory, an artificial human. Willing to expand and return those years of conquest, but for now she must meddle in the life of a certain man who has taken the existence of her Lord and any ally who frustrates the cult's plans. Hoping for some miserable miracle of resurgence, which are useless attempts. Arrogant, if you lose against her, she will force you to enter the golden calf and then burn you with it, slowly until your flesh and bones are destroyed, including other torture techniques. If she is defeated, will melt, being expelled from her own skin as a last reaction, only being a mass of withering flesh.

■ And in his absence, they have created his figure to comfort themselves in days of glory, taking advantage of the commotion of the Bremen masses to boost false hope and supposed influence left by the charismatic individual. Using the support of the citizens, they rejoice in the political chaos and find the culprit of the Kaiser's fall. All of them with the power offered by the army, the experiments and contacts, in a matter of time they had to flee from the sight of the Empire, it seems that the remaining authorities are looking for them for treason. Although they continue to use some militia suits, weapons and others.

This...is not the Kaiser, but a representation of him, created based on a skinless corpse of someone who suffered a cruel fate, during the nights and midnights of the events, quite peculiar things tend to happen, some of these are the processions during these hours and throughout the neighborhood, the figure being carried by some followers.

■ He will proudly get his hands dirty for the just cause of expanding the Kaiser's influence, even if he must start from this desolate neighborhood with his other comrades. A man who shows disdain and jealousy towards Pav for reaching the ranks faster in the past, he who longed to serve at the Kaiser's side and his blind vision of hunger for power drove him to do the impossible to reach the rank of lieutenant and use the army as the power of Bremen to his advantage, even though he was certainly clumsy with weapons at first and his hostile and even manic personality, he was able to achieve his goal when Pav left the rank of lieutenant and escaped. Sadly even if he couldn't be at the Kaiser's side, at least longs to be able to ruin Pav's existence even more.

''You're a coward, Yudin!, ran away, but you won't escape from me!...do you know how much it cost me to get to this position?, and you came as if nothing happened!, i had to destroy a lot of lives as much as you!, shed blood!, i longed for Kaiser to look at me!''

''Our ambitions and talents are different, but they led us to the Kaiser, the difference is that i would never have stabbed him in the back, people of Voronya like you should be dead, i would have liked to know that you would not survive...with your family''

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The lieutenant is an expert with swords and knives, and does not tend to use his firearms frequently in attacks. He tends to kick and try to cut off the body parts.

Suffers the fate of becoming an unrecognizable creature due to the effects of being exposed outside for too long in days and due to his mental/emotional imbalance.

''SO YOU WANT TO PUNCH A HOLE IN ME WITH YOUR STUPID BULLETS?, YOU WANT TO?, COME ON, COME ON, LET'S SEE IF YOU CAN''

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Will break walls, chase you through hallways and do everything to catch you, is more aggressive than his human form, wanting to tear you apart and rip your head off, taller, although his back is not noticeable has more muscle mass and in other places, looks stronger, although does not have arms, the strength comes from legs. Uses the extensions of ropes/threads of flesh as whips, usually makes strange sounds that can be detected with the radio and be careful when passing by.

He must be attacked first by the eyes of the extensions and then by the missing limbs.

■ They shout: ''Hail king, hail king!, our lord!, give us back our lord!'', are more insistent, like the Wheel of Fortune they go round and round, these can be shot in several parts. In reality some of them were not even followers, they were just people who were used as test subjects. Their eyelids are sewn with wire and they spill a liquid of melted gold, spinning on a three-sided bone.

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ACT 2 > Office building

■ They have been abused in different ways by the Moth Boss in the past. They can be found in various parts of the office building, it seems that can be recruited.

■ This man does not have a face, the bag being the only thing that adhered to his skin. Prior to the events, Seimei helped him buy the necessary things for his baby (although they were not that close), his wife was a jealous and abusive woman, even if her husband did not have enough money for the support and the constant mistreatment of the boss. So overwhelmed that now he carries on his back the heads of his wife and the giant head of his baby, which float like balloons, communicating telepathically with this man. When Pav and Seimei defeat the Moth Boss, he thanks them, then dies with an agonizing scene when his wife's head starts insulting him. In an alternate event, Pav or Seimei can kill him with one blow, he is quite harmless.

■ Tend to alarm their other companions, and are able to talk like a radio announcer. Faithful to the Moth Boss, they will do everything possible to get in the way, and are more dangerous if they come in groups. In the past, these were the bootlickers of Seimei's boss, hiding the secret that he was abused by this man. They walk erratically and seem to still retain their memories, showing hatred and a superiority complex towards Seimei. Has a variation, like climbing plants.

■ In the past he was Seimei's boss, the main culprit of the suffering of most of the workers, a perverted exploiter obsessed with using them as tools and lining the pockets of the authorities. He has had Pav's neighbor under threat for a long time, even after being found dismembered in a strange ritual circle, he has returned with a new transformation, among tumors and the dust of the basement.

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ACT 3 > Noisy neighbors

■ The gossiping wife even with her transformation, can be a nuisance, she will force you to eat the food she cooks for you (unless you kill her) she does not seem to have twisted intentions, or who knows, her mind has not been well after the effects, when entering her home, she follows you everywhere from behind until you sit on the dining room chair, she insists with various questions to make the conversation more pleasant (never mention her appearance), she will get violent if you do not eat the dish offers you. The woman call her husband and go up the stairs of the house, Seimei insists that they can escape now through the kitchen or find a way to hide. It is possible to destroy her hunchbacked spine, her weak point or shoot her from behind.

■ The husband is dead, only his head remains, on a silver platter, what now inhabits it is a parasite that makes sounds similar to the Xenomorph and enters the mouths of humans to hatch inside and cause a slow, painful death, until burst into blood and flesh. One way to kill the parasite is with fire, other methods are a mystery.

■ Neighbor and police ghouls, can be recruited, they are scattered throughout the neighborhood, inside abandoned buildings, others near or inside the police station.

■ They were once neighbors, affected by the curious influence, behave like snails, melted and slimy flesh, if touch them, you get infected. As a defense mechanism, expel acid with mucus.

■ A mix of leech and plant, it is a type of enemy of the park area, a neighbor in the past, there are several like this. It can cause extra damage by its teeth and the part of the human face must be weakened, then the main entrance of its other mouth. It is divided into those with flowers and others with poisonous plants. The parts can be used for medical purposes.

■ Venus flytrap style, it is more wrinkled, with certain parts of a tumor, it can control corpses and they walk slowly until catch the next victim, and tear off their skin.

-Fun fact: There is another enemy that i hadn't illustrated, but it was a carnivorous plant shaped like a jar and other plants (poisonous) would grow inside the organs of some neighbors that are affected.

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*ૢ✧ Interaction between two idiots - Category: Worst neighbors

"Remember these words, Seimei, i told you that if we were to get out of here, you should at least put the bullet in that fucking maniac"

"What the hell are you talking about when my idiot boss now has the face of an insect?"

''Former boss, but he won't be saved from being a former imbecile''

''Wearing nice shoes melts your brain''

''Look at your own first, soldier''

''Stop your delusions, old man, the office is already a war zone...''

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Honestly, i wasn't going to come back to this account because i felt like i didn't do well enough for this, i was motivated by the support that some had given in my posts, thank you very much!, i don't consider myself an artist so, only go more for the written part.

#fear and hunger #fear and hunger termina #f&h termina #funger #f&h #fear and hunger 2 #shoseimeifungeroc #fear and hunger pav #f&h pav #pavel yudin #sho seimei #fear and hunger 1946 #f&h 1946

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colorfulandblack · 1 year

Text

Ok, serious question time gang

Sean is the youngest of the circle members right?

I mean Auntie Bee is the oldest of them that's a fact. And at first I though that maybe Nathaniel was second when it came to age because he was a lieutenant but then I remembered that because he came from money it's pretty certain that he had this position bought so it doesn't mean necessary that he'd be old or older.

However, I cannot imagine putting an somewhat barely an adult in charge, back in the day of the beginnings of the war. Or during the war. I think that when he enlisted he was an adult at least meaning he was over 18.

It is possible that Dr Jean is second in age since she is a doctor and I imagine she graduated university and her studies and if the wold of Newfaire is at least a little like the 1900 then she must have been 18 when she graduated if not older and then she had some practice. She did mention that she either learned or rather put her learned skills to use during the war in the trenches.

Those facts would put both Nathaniel and Jean in their early 30 I'd say? Or just turned 30? Also, their character are just much more authoritative which may came from their position in society and profession but it just fits that sort of age. We know that Nathaniel was younger sibling but we do not know how much younger he was from his brother that drowned so that doesn't give us much perspective.

Then Marion. He said that he tagged along with Sean and his brothers Tony and Jimmy all the time. That would put them similar in age. That being said through I'm almost certain that Sean was the youngest of the siblings and we know for a fact that he enlisted illegally when he was 16. I'm assuming and knowing his character he did so because his brothers also enlisted. Which leads me to think that maybe Marion was closer in age to Sean's siblings even if it were by 2 or 3 years because he just doesn't strike me as a person that would enlisted illegally. Unless if course he saw Sean doing a big stupid and decided that someone has to keep an eye on him.

But even if they all (except for Auntie Bee) were of similar age there could be 2-3 or more age gaps between them. And we know, we KNOW for a fact that Sean enlisted ILLEGALLY.

Also, this is a shot in the dark but notice how Auntie Bee sort of feels like a motherly figure to Sean. She said that she promised his mother to keep an eye on him. If Sean and Marion has been friends from young age and if Auntie Bee knew Sean from way before the Candela can means two things. One, which is quite reasonable, that she doesn't feel that Marion needs as much protection and attention because he's more reasonable of the two (although very protective of Auntie Bee, the amount of bleed he took for her and she does treat him almost like a son) or TWO, she did made a promise to Sean's mother to keep an eye on him not only because he's a impulsive idiot but also he is simply young.

Brennan said that Sean is in his mid twenties, we don't know how long was the war but if it is based on Great War that means it lasted 4 years (at least!) I'm saying at least because if Sean enlisted at the beginning that would put him at 20 and if he enlisted later he'd be even younger.

Now come to think of it I might be stupid but I though I remembered that in Chapter 1 it was said that the war lasted a decade? I'm not sure, someone let me know so I can fix it but either way that would put Sean at 26.

So yeah, unless we know more in my mind Sean is the youngest of the Needle and the Thread.

#candela obscura #candela spoilers #critical role #sean finnerty #circle of the needle and the thread #needle and thread #chapter 2 #i swear im being normal about this circle #i am

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imaginesbymk · 2 years

Text

❝ WHAT DO WE DO NOW? ❞

The Pacific One Shot

PAIRING — SNAFU SHELTON x NURSE!FEM!READER.

SYNOPSIS / The war's over, and Snafu is taking the edge off with Eugene and Burgin on the high rocks. It doesn't last very long when he notices that you’re having a victory party of your own . . .

TAGS: mentions of war, mentions of bullying, drinking, smoking, swearing + snafu being snafu

PROMPTS: ❝ can I kiss you? ❞ / ❝ will you stay with me? ❞

WORD COUNT: 1,991

A/N: this story is a bit different than the usual marine x nurse!reader trope. usually the nurse!reader is deemed perfect or is a childhood crush from the town they’re from who reunites with their lover after the war, but i wanted to make them like the outcast who finds some sort of comfort in the bad boy vibe from snafu who holds a soft spot for her in the end. this gift is for @latibvles from your secret santa <3 i’m late but merry xmas!!!! and thank u for allowing me to participate in secret santa @hbowardaily —enjoy :))

THE DAY the Japanese surrendered, you had just finished patching up a Marine who suffered several cuts to his lower calf. For years you adjusted to the blood-curdling screams and moans from Marine after Marine, tending to them as they begged you a bunch of nonsense — that nonsense would have worsened their wounds and injuries. But that was your job in the Pacific theatre.

The screams and cries were now chants and balls of laughter, something you haven’t heard in a very long time. Maybe you have heard them here and there from the tents and hospitals— small talks whenever you passed by the cots, they were short-lived. Either they died the next day or their souls died acknowledging this war that felt like an eternity, the laughing would just be dead silence.

It was nice to hear a bunch of men and young boys have a victory party out at base camp.

Although, you left them be. You didn't like the idea of intruding, and drunk men gawking at you. You stayed back to clean up. A couple of nurses were enjoying their own victory parties, clinking glass bottles of coke and wine. You were clinking bottles of medicine back into the shelves.

Outside, Snafu, Burgin and Eugene isolated themselves from the Marines. Watching them party from below was a view, but looking up at the night sky was a movie.

"You see that? Line of stars angling up?" Snafu points up at the dark sky.

"Yep," Burgin answers with an unlit cigarette in his mouth.

"That's Snafu's peckuh." He listened to the conversation with Eugene and Lieutenant Mac.

One question stuck with him that Mac asked out theoretically. "What do we do now?" Snafu scoffs. "What an idiot."

He was in a small daze. Burgin hands the bottle of alcohol to Snafu.

What could he do? Clean up the mess on the islands, organize everything and take roll call, finish all his duties, clean himself up with a fresh uniform and a plane and train back to Louisiana. There was just one thing he gotta do first once he took his first sip of alcohol.

"I gotta take a piss." He climbs down the rocks, reminding him that he didn't need to keep his head down and adjust his helmet like from the times he instinctively ducks down to avoid being seen by the Japanese. He lands on the gravel and walks over to the side.

Meanwhile, he wished there were women joining in on the fun. But like Eugene would eventually tell his brother back in Mobile, they were off limits. But it’s not like Snafu is obedient every now and then.

And with that, he watched you from afar. While everyone else was doing God knows what, he wondered where the rest of the infirmary staff were while you were left to handle the manual labor all by yourself. Maybe he didn’t need to pee off in the corner after all. And so he followed you as you went back inside your tent.

He just watched you at the foot of it, the small breeze from the night moving the curtain a bit so he could see a better view of your uniform. And of course, he was staring at certain places.

You were beautiful, he thought. But he could say that about every other nurse here.

His look-see didn’t last very long. You turned around when you felt another presence just as you were carrying the twentieth box of inventory into one of the crates.

“JESUS!” You screamed, dropping the box of medical supplies and crashing on the ground.

“Terribly sorry for startling you,” but the young man’s grin never faded. He allowed himself in the tent.

“That’s close enough, Marine.” You made him halt in his tracks. For one thing, he could be drunk out of his mind, looking to sink his claws into someone for pleasure. What was separating him from your safety was the spill that he could foolishly slip and injure him in. And that would be another job to do. Speaking of, you looked down at the shattered glass pieces and substances scattered on the ground. At least it wasn’t too toxic for exposure. “Great.”

“Like I said, I apologize for the disturbance,” the man said.

“Disturbance is an understatement. You can say you scared the shit out of me.” You bent down and carefully gathered the glass shards, ironically touching them with your bare hands when you know you should be getting a broom and dustpan for that... and perhaps some safety gloves and a separate bin to dispose glass.

Snafu raised his brows. “I wouldn’t touch that, ma’am. I’d get a—”

“Yeah, I know.” You stopped doing what you were doing.

The smell of rubbing alcohol nearly filled the air, and there was an unopened pack of sulfur powder. The last time he saw someone use sulfer powder on an infected wound was the First Lieutenant. “That’s the thing, ma’am. I see you packed up all the cleaning supplies. Digging through the dozens of them would be beating the dead horse.”

“I can’t just leave spilt rubbing alcohol on the ground. It’s a safety hazard. I can’t get in trouble again.”

Again? Oh yeah. Snafu watched you kneel on the ground, carelessly getting your sheer tights stained with dirt. He found himself studying you again. In ways he was checking you out previously, but also recognizing the same features he saw when he visited the infirmary tents to see if there were any bandaids left for Burgin’s cuts on his fingers. That day, you were scolded by another nurse for something and the rest of them stared at you like a bug that needed to be squashed. Not only were the nurses staring at you, but so were the Marines who were being treated. Snafu was present to see all of that while he was patiently waiting at the curtains. It intrigued him. Normally he would chuckle to himself over how clumsy someone can be, but a part of him felt that pity. If this was him back in Louisiana, he’d be feeling just as small.

When you made eye contact with him, you said nothing— he was just every other Marine seeking assistance, so you handed over a pack of bandaids. You kept your head down, refusing to let him notice that you were on the verge of tears. He thought nothing of it, and moved along.

“Hang on, doll. I’ve seen you before,” he nods down at you. “You’re like the doormat.”

You scoff at that. “Not an understatement.” And he wasn’t wrong, either. You weren’t exactly the unlikeable one in the bunch, but these nurses weren’t planning on sticking around to become best friends with you for life during and after the war. Meanwhile, the majority of the men looked at you differently, either like eye-candy or a nurse who needed more training. You couldn’t hold small talk with anyone you worked with. Not a single nurse gave off a friendly vibe, and it reminded you of those snobby kids in high school. It shouldn’t affect you when you had a serious job and the cause was likely due to the physical and mental exhaustion from the war, but still... it stung.

Snafu grins, the alcohol wasn’t even speaking for him. He only took one sip out of the bottle Mac gave them, anyway. He was just like that. “Can I kiss you?”

“Absolutely not.” Your face beamed red.

“Why? You kissed that Marine from Love Company.”

“You’re very likely mistaking me for another nurse, then. I don’t kiss Marines. I nurse them back to health when they get shrapnel in their eyes.”

“Then how about I find you back home and then I can kiss you?”

“No. God," you huff. "You'd do anything to win a girl's heart. You just suck at it. You're the type to run through Makin Island to get to the likes of blondes."

“Not exactly,” he corrects you. “And war’s over, ma’am.”

“I can’t believe you just asked me that out of the blue,” you shook your head in disbelief. But were you even surprised? “You don’t even know my name.”

“I’m Merriell Shelton,” he extends a hand.

You knew how you wanted a formal introduction to go between you and a man. You expect the man to be polite, and it all started by shaking his hand. But this was Merriell, as you come to learn his name— in which you assume he is given a different nickname by the Marines fighting out there. You heard that the Marines nicknamed First Lieutenant Eddie Jones ‘Hillbilly’, and then-Captain Andrew Haldane ‘Ack-Ack’. For Merriell, it could be something you imagine to be vulgar.

You stare down at his hand, not reaching yours out to shake it. “Well, Merriell Shelton. I will not kiss you. You should go.”

"So what did you do before all this, Miss?" Snafu dodges your order.

You roll your eyes and stared at the tiny bottles of ibuprofen tossed in the box, wishing you were back home, doing what you did before all of this. "Just like any other young adult. Helped around the house, tried to get pass through potential colleges. Never thought I'd end up on the other side of the world."

"You're telling me." Snafu nearly spat on the ground. If he had done it, you'd be clearly annoyed and disgusted. You knew these men had gone through so much that even their manners and behaviour were picked up by the conditions on the islands. Even if he had spat, war or no war, you would choose to not say anything.

You and Snafu could hear the loud shouts and laughter outside acquainted with music. Eugene and Burgin must be wondering where Merriell—Snafu– wandered off to now after urinating on the ground somewhere.

“So... what do we now?” He asks, repeating Mac’s words.

No one was an idiot in this moment for even asking that. What could the two of you do right now?

“Well, Merriell Shelton, because you just gave me another job, what I am gonna do is sit here and wait for a nurse to come stumbling in to help me clean up.”

“There’s no way they would come and help you. For one thing, they would be too drunk to even carry a broom. They would make you do it yourself. If anything, I can help.”

“After scaring me like that and asking for a kiss? You should be on your way drinking with your friends out there, no?”

“I find this encounter much more entertaining.”

“Why? There are nurses out there to drink and laugh with.”

“I remember faces, ma’am. Some of them weren’t that friendly to you that one time.”

“How do you know that?”

He shrugs. “I remember faces.”

You got up and sat on one of the chairs. “Well, I’m done working for them and with them. Therefore, I’m not unloading the cargo for a dustpan and broom.”

“Then I suggest you leave the mess here for them to clean up, and make sure there’s no wet floor sign so they can slip on their mistake. Make it seem they were too stupid to realize they dropped a few things in here. They dun’ need to know the truth.” You look up at him. He was smirking.

“They’ll say something. Will you stay with me?” you ask. “Just don’t try and kiss me. I will hit you so hard in the face, Marine.”

Snafu smiles. “You don’t have to stay in here and wait for it all to unfold.” He extends his hand out once more. “We’re staying by the rocks away from everyone else. I’ll introduce you to Sledgehammer. Maybe I’ll finally get you to tell me your name, by then.”

You smiled back and took his hand. Perhaps one friend is better than many.

END.

#the pacific one shot #the pacific imagine #the pacific x reader #the pacific #hbo the pacific #hbo war #snafu shelton x reader #snafu shelton one shot #snafu shelton imagine #snafu shelton #the pacific imagines #snafu shelton imagines #reader insert #one shot #imagine #hbowarsanta22

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bredforloyalty · 1 year

Note

you keep posting about columbo. do i need to watch it would u recommend?

first of all sorry for answering more than a week later... i had a feeling if i just keep on columboposting all alone eventually someone will be like what's going on.. my brain's been like THE KLUMBO!! every day most days for a while now so bear with me for a moment

my answer to "do you recommend x" is always that i can tell you about it, say what i like about it and what's possibly not to like so you can better evaluate whether it's something you would enjoy, yeah? 😳 like in the end it's either for you or it isn't and only you can find out. you know what i mean

um so columbo, the episodes are feature-length self-contained murder mysteries, if you wanted to you could start anywhere. and they aren't exactly mysteries because the concept is that you watch the murder happen and then the clues that lead to the arrest are uncovered gradually and the lieutenant and the killer dance around each other until the latter incriminates themself. usually because they underestimated columbo because he's a shabby little guy and appears to be sort of a bumbling idiot but is actually incredibly perceptive and sharp-witted, and he knows how the (usually rich) self-important murderers see him and uses that against them, as well as his compassion and intuition. that's pretty much it, it's a reverse whodunnit

i think (and it may be obvious) that the appeal of the show other than the crime/mystery is columbo, if you like him that could possibly be the thing that makes you continue watching. so i'll tell you that he doesn't carry a gun, can't stand the sight of blood, or high places, loves his wife. and his dog. simple guy, shrewd though. same rumpled coat and shitty little peugeot convertible all the time. he's very socratic in his methods, non-violent, and i think that's what really attracted me to this show. i enjoy the masculinity without the usual baggage, without the arrogance and the domineering and the posturing, if that makes sense lol.. plus i think peter falk's performance is wonderfully human, stephen fry said this once in an interview if i remember correctly: there's a certain warmth to it. columbo's a humble, virtuous character, yeah he's disheveled, a little all over the place but he understands people and is endlessly curious and dedicated and that's how he wins. and i like that and i think he's a bit of an unusual character because we're far from the macho tough guy cops who intimidate and coerce and threaten And from the trope of the egotistical superhuman genius detective.. he's a little guy c'maahn he's just a little guyy (it's not about him though viewers aren't even supposed to know his first name and it's hard to tell when he's bluffing and his private life is never the focus. so, a mysterious little guy)

TLDR: yes i recommend it if you like mysteries and would enjoy a crime drama with moments of silliness or would appreciate the unconventional masculinity (for his time definitely) i see in this character, and no i don't recommend it if you'd rather watch things that are short and snappy or if you strongly prefer an overarching plot or if you hate the look and feel of the 70s or if you don't like peter falk's whole deal and especially not if your pet peeve is talking in circles. oh and there are some moments and aspects of episodes that didn't age well but they're very few and far between imo. just wanted to mention that, i know nothing is perfect ofc<3

so yeah i do recommend it because i love it, thank you for asking !! :)

#i had this whole thing where i rambled about which episodes are probably best to start with but i'm just gonna say‚ start with murder by #the book (first episode but not the pilot) or double exposure or suitable for framing. opinions vary on many episodes but i think these are #generally loved. also negative reaction has a killer that didn't interest me but it's great for getting to know columbo #but there are many articles and posts with opinions about which episodes are the best and which are good to start with #articles about why people watch/love columbo too. like if you didn't trust me and wanted different sources hdshvy #ask #columbo

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dojimakaichou · 1 year

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SENT FROM @stingslikeabee ― ( unscripted ask / always accepting )

Melissa walked into the captain's ready room once Daigo authorized her entrance; however, the woman was out of uniform and instead dressed in a short, sequined dress with fringes for movement in addition to high heels, the counselor's long hair pinned in a long ponytail at the top of the head. Ordinarily, that would have been a strange sight - but the telepath (just like most of the crew) was on shore leave for the next two days while the Tojo underwent regularly scheduled maintenance at the station they had docked a couple of hours earlier. "Captain, I'm just dropping by to remind you that shore leave was granted to all senior officers, including yourself," the woman added with a pointed glance at the man who was still in his regular attire and sitting behind the desk as if prepared to go over paperwork or do something related to his duties instead of getting off ship and joining his friends and crewmates at the many facilities of the space station. "Considering that Doctor Kashiwagi has already gone to his botanical garden tour, I'm the most qualified medical staff on board to order you to relax, sir," Melissa grinned, and leaned against the wall next to the doors of the captain's ready room, arms crossing over the sequined fabric and making the softest of the noises when her bracelets jingled - as usual, the Inadian had the black stones which served as blockers of her telepathic powers around her wrist, turning her into someone virtually human. "What are your plans today, sir? Otherwise, I might need to force you to attend a workshop on Kheserian salsa with me. I had no idea we needed to bring a partner and you mentioned you were good at dancing, so..." the brunette paused, biting her lower lip to hide a smile and not caring to mask a certain degree of pleading in her honey-colored eyes, "What do you say, Daigo? I'm asking as a friend. Don't make me order this as your counselor."

★. ―

Daigo wrapped his hands around his cup of coffee in order to soak in the warmth and sighed. The replicator never got his favorite beverage quite right ; it always tasted a bit stale. Nevertheless, Daigo had grown used to it. So much so that he didn't even entertain the idea of venturing beyond the confines of the Tojo once it docked for something more fresh.

Shore leave for the majority of the crew meant a quiet ship for the captain. One that Daigo could roam various decks of with no one calling his name or the sound of his communicator beeping. It was just him and this beautiful vessel, which he viewed with a certain fondness that was difficult to put into words.

The captain moved from the replicator to the large desk in the room. He placed his cup down carefully and frowned at the two tablets placed on its surface, each with a different report for him to read. Daigo sat and reached for the first. As his hand connected with it, there came a request for entry from the door.

What the ― ?? Daigo released the tablet and leaned to the side to check the notification. Surely, most of the crew were gone by now. With his lips pressed together in a thin line, Daigo unlocked the door and settled back in his chair. He grabbed his coffee and clasped it in his lap, bottom balanced against one of his thighs.

The Counselor's unusual attire was not lost on the cabin, who felt his breath catch in his throat. Melissa Drysdell certainly was a beautiful woman. Her sequined dress, which was far more flattering than any of the Federation's uniforms, accented her figure perfectly. Perhaps, the captain looked too long ; he felt a light pink dust the top of his cheeks as he forced his dark eyes up. "Salsa ??" he echoed lamely.

Fucking idiot. Daigo cleared his throat, shifting his weight in an effort to sit up straighter. He sipped his coffee and pulled his thoughts together. "Lieutenant Drysdell," he attempted. At the change in her expression, Daigo exhaled slowly. "Melissa." That seemed to appease her short, playful irritation with him.

"This is a report from Lieutenant Commander Lyx containing her opinion of the warp drive upgrades that the Tojo will receive tomorrow ; it is critical that I go over it again. To make sure I understand." Daigo placed his cup onto the desk and stood, though his stare remained on the tablets blinking up at him. "Warp technology is no small thing, Melissa ― I need to know every detail of these changes."

"Again ??" Melissa echoed, stifling the gentle laugh that should have accompanied her amusement.

"I read it when it was first delivered to me last week," the captain explained. Daigo's eyes returned to her then. They narrowed at the slight shake of her head. He plucked his coffee up and sipped it obstinately, as if to show that he would not be moved. ( even despite the needling doubt in his brain, which begged to do something with the confusing, lovely woman sharing the room with him. )

Melissa left the wall and approached the desk instead. His drinking was in response to unseen nerves : he was a fidgeter, after all, and that behavior tended to increase when he was uneasy. This told the Counselor that her words were getting through that infamously thick skull . . . but he was too anxious to leave his post. Daigo lived his life afraid that the Tojo would tear to pieces the moment he left the bridge. An admirable trait in a captain if handled well ; unfortunately, Daigo took it to extremes.

The Inadian wrapped her fingers around the drink as well, careful not to brush his at the handle. She was aware that her abilities spooked him in quieter moments ( and the black tourmaline on her wrist didn't always negate that irrational fear as much as she would like ). Slowly, Melissa lowered the cup. One less little shield to contend with.

"You overworked yourself into an almost - heart attack last month," Melissa said. "Or, did you forget that, Daigo ?? We had to practically strap you to the biobed to make you stay in sickbay for one day." A deep breath, a short pause to let that reminder sink in. "I know that the Tojo is important to you ; I am not requesting you to take full leave. What I am asking, though, as your friend, is that you get outside of these walls for a little while. You need breaks. If you don't take them, your ship may lose her captain ― everyone onboard will lose you."

Daigo's dark gaze flicked to the side, and Melissa held her breath. The captain mulled it over. His medical incident five weeks ago had scared him. It was another case of Kashiwagi murmuring that Daigo shouldn't be alive, but his words lacked the usual friendly tone for alien attacks or wounds received in skirmishes. The damage that Daigo was inflicting on his own body was very much avoidable.

Eventually, he sighed. "I doubt a captain's uniform is . . . appropriate for dancing," Daigo finally relented, powering down the tablets on his desk. "Do I have fifteen minutes to change ??"

"You have thirty, actually," Melissa confessed with a smile. "I anticipated a fight, so I came early."

Daigo chuckled darkly. "You are a very wise woman, Lieutenant Drysdell."

#ooc. :)))#⤿ VERSE. ✕ SPACE FEDERATION 01 ✕ ALL WE HAVE IS NOW #⤿ ❤. ✕ WORLD ✕ MELISSA & DAIGO #⤿ IC. ✕ ANSWERED #stingslikeabee

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e350tb · 2 years

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Goodbye to All That by Robert Graves

I’m not entirely certain as to how I ought to review this one. Unlike the previous books I’ve reviewed, Goodbye to All That is a memoir, and I don’t really think I’m at liberty to tell someone that they’ve written their life stories incorrectly. I suppose, then, that this is more of a collection of thoughts.

Goodbye to All That is the autobiography of Robert Graves, a British poet, from his birth in 1895 to about 1926. While it covers his schooling and his writing career in the early 1920s, the bulk of the book is about his time as an officer in the Royal Welch Fusiliers during the First World War, in which he took part in the Battles of Loos in September 1915 and the Somme in July 1916. Graves is one of the so-called ‘war poets,’ a label that includes perhaps about a dozen British writers (plus the Canadian McCrae) but is usually narrowed down to Graves, Siegfried Sassoon and Wilfred Owen. (Or perhaps Rupert Brooke, if one is an idiot.) The war poets wrote evocative poetry about their experiences of the war, generally influenced by pacifism and disgust at the perceived mismanagement of the war (as well as some fairly severe PTSD), and it’s often said today that their works helped create a skewed image of the war. Certainly, the experiences of Graves (as well as both Sassoon and Owen) were not typical. Most of the war poets were middle-to-upper-class junior officers, lieutenants and captains; the casualty rate for junior officers in the trenches was unquestionably appalling. When Graves mentions another officer in his company and battalion, they are nearly ubiquitously killed or badly wounded. Losing friends and acquaintances at such an alarming rate, while still being expected to lead men into the teeth of machine guns and artillery regardless, would embitter anyone against the war.

Yet I must concede that Graves’ experiences were not ‘typical.’ I personally don’t believe there’s any such thing as a ‘typical’ experience of any event, so that prospect doesn’t trouble me too much. Regardless of one’s opinions of Haig and Lloyd George and ‘Lions Led By Donkeys,’ Goodbye to All That remains a very readable account of one man’s experience of the war, and we would be poorer for not having it.

It’s probably becoming increasingly clear that I don’t plan these reviews out before writing them.

The Britain (and indeed the world) of Goodbye to All That is both familiar and alien. The rigid social order has changed a little, as perhaps have the more bizarre social cues created by class (except, perhaps, at Eton and its ilk.) It’s difficult to imagine any modern nation accepting massive casualties with such outward stoicism, or mothers writing to the Times extolling the virtue of sending men into the meat grinder. The casual racism is worded and enacted differently, but I’d be hard-pressed to say that it’s vanished. Yet there remain familiar aspects of life; black, absurd humour in the face of adversity, ex-servicemen being let down by the government once they’ve stopped being useful, and there’s even a pandemic towards the end. The peculiar aspects of regimental culture were quite amusing to me - Graves admits to being thankful to be in a proud regiment like the Royal Welch rather than having joined the Cheshires or, god forbid, the Bedfordshires. He writes of the prejudices held by officers regarding which battalions were ‘good’ or ‘bad’ (working Midlanders and Northerners, Londoners, Ulstermen and Colonials generally good, Scots less so, and then on and on until you reach the Public Schools Battalion, which is completely worthless) which are illuminating if somewhat cruel. Graves’ description of people, units and places is candid, and one might say occasionally tactless. Indeed, the publishing of this book in 1929 seems to have burned a lot of his bridges.

Honestly, I’m struggling to find the right words for this one. I knocked it off quickly, which is certainly a good sign, and I’d definitely recommend it, but I just don’t think I’m the right person to review this one.

#book review #robert graves #goodbye to all that #history #first world war #wwi #world war 1

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fyrewalks · 2 years

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𝐉𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐇𝐀𝐃 𝐍𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐁𝐄𝐄𝐍 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐄 𝐎𝐅𝐅𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐃 𝐈𝐍 𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐆𝐎𝐃𝐃𝐀𝐌𝐍𝐄𝐃 𝐋𝐈𝐅𝐄. a little too dramatic? i think the fuck not. the gang was all here, stumbling around with their drinks at the karaoke bar, somehow having managed to get jake seresin to crawl out of self-imposed exile. after all, everyone knew that when a mission was on the line, seresin wanted nothing to do with all the others. his focus was impenetrable, cutthroat.

but someone within the dagger crew had suggested karaoke night, saying that they could out sing the rest of them and teasing that jake couldn't even hold a note. his urgency to join in on the fun was pretty much heavily solidified after that; it wasn't football ( and no, seresin couldn't hold a single fucking note, ) but he'd be damned if he didn't show up just to talk shit and stir up trouble. the daggers also seemed to have developed the right idea in knowing when the crew ought to be taking a much needed break---- usually around the time tensions EXPLODED and attitudes were getting to be unbearable.

not to mention, phoenix was there. jake sent 'the signal' out to bob/baby/squirtle specifically that tonight might be the night, no matter how many times he'd been advised that a certain lieutenant trace did not see any romantic potential in one jake seresin. fine, that was fine---- she simply hadn't gotten to know seresin's softer side, which did exist, no matter how aggressively buried. phoenix wasn't above being impressed, she was just tough to earn, a certified badass in her own right and jake loved that shit. so, it was NOW OR NEVER.

javy was in the midst of softly serenading his date, which had jake on the verge of dying from laughter, and then he noticed baby on board swaying close by. "just the man i wanted to see," jake beamed, about to let floyd in on his whole scheme to sweep phoenix off her feet tonight. however, bob span around exactly when jake turned to whisper into his ear, bringing them a little too close for comfort. the tip of jake's nose was mere centimeters from brushing bob's, and every muscle within jake's physique seemed to stiffen before bob, in his tipsy glory, uttered those ridiculous fucking words.

pucker up.

the fuck? "annnd that's what we call reaching one's limit," like the surly asshole that he was, jake put on a dazzling little smirk annnd... plucked the glass of alcohol right out of bob's feeble hand. he then immediately straightened his posture, wrenching his head away like nothing had even happened. "who the hell let the BABY drink too much!?" // @lcvesdeath

Bob isn’t one to drink a lot, certainly never one to get drunk in public, so he’s riding that silver line of tipsiness. Another drink and surely he’ll be on the other side of it, but he’s slowly nursing the one he has now, content to watch and laugh and cheer on whoever has the misfortune of making it onstage. He knows that his slight unwillingness to completely participate earns him whispers and rumors tied to being uncool, unfun. Bob rarely cares that much about them. Annoying, sure, but he’s dealt with worse and he cares about his job too much to let loose the way others might. Conduct unbecoming is a nasty, dangerous charge. While it shouldn’t apply to some silly drunk misdoings, Bob isn’t the type to risk it.

He’s buzzed enough that Jake’s usual antics are no bother to him. Phoenix can handle herself and Jake has to be seriously stupid to risk trying anything tonight, Bob thinks. Javy, with a surprisingly nice voice, sings down to his date and Bob’s eyes slip close, the beat of the music swaying him.

Bob’s a little lost in the music, eyes opening wide in surprise at Jake’s sudden closeness. The way his lips are right there and then the words, stupid idiotic words he’ll forget if he’s fortunate, spill out of his clumsy mouth. Too stunned to say much else after Jake jerks away, he can only watch as his drink is plucked away from him. Distantly, he’s aware of a few scattered laughs.

“Uh, no,” he says with surprising force, reaching back for his drink. He overestimates his reach, causing the drink to spill over them both. Bob wants to melt into the floor. He wants the Earth to swallow him whole. Screw conduct unbecoming, this is why he doesn’t drink, let loose like this - he can’t trust his traitorous mouth. “I would very much like to be actually drunk, thank youuuu.” And if not here then fine, Bob’s a big boy, he can drink himself into forgetting all of this in the privacy of his own apartment.

#lcvesdeath #lcvesdeath ft. jake #ft. bob floyd

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taliaaurora · 2 years

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Forbidden Love (3) - The One Where Alison Disobeys An Order, Again

Pairing: Jason Pelham x Alison Jones

Summary: Jones comes back to Firehouse 51 after being away for two weeks. Pelham can't help but feel guilty and responsible for her injuries, leading him to keep a distance from her. A fight between the lieutenant and a firefighter only brings them closer.

Warning: mention of injuries, mention of an abusive stepfather.

Words Count: 2.1k

A/N: English is not my first language, so I’m sorry for any mistakes. I hope you enjoy this chapter! 💕

Want to join my tag list? You can request it here! 🦋

Previous Chapter | Series Masterlist

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Staring at her phone, Alie bit the inside of her cheek. She had left Pelham a bunch of texts, but he never replied. He was ignoring her and she knew exactly why. Pelham had been avoiding her since that shift when Severide blamed him for her injuries.

“Severide shouldn’t have talked to Pelham like that, it wasn’t his fault.” Sylvie said as she took a seat next to Alie on the couch. Looking over her phone, Alie saw her friend and sighed.

“Yeah. Severide is not being himself lately, I can’t really blame him.” Alie explained. Before she could say anything else, her attention was caught by a certain lieutenant making his way to the locker room. “I’ll be right back.” Alie quickly mumbled, stumbling off the couch as she tried to catch up with Pelham.

Entering the locker room, Alie leaned on the doorway as Pelham sat on the bench, putting his bag on the floor.

“You didn't reply to any of my texts.” She softly said, testing the waters. Pelham kept his head down, minding his business, and didn’t say a word. Nodding her head in understanding, Alie licked her lips. “You don’t want to talk to me. I get it. I’m sorry to bother you, lieutenant.” She left the room with her head down, completely embarrassed. She felt like an idiot, begging for the attention of a man she barely knew.

Pelham shoved his bag inside his locker, slamming the door shut right after. He already felt guilty for what happened to Alison and Severide only made him feel worst. For the last couple of days, he barely slept. Every time he closed his eyes, that scene repeated in his head, Alie holding his hand as the floor collapsed beneath her feet. What happened in just a few seconds kept repeating in slow motion. He couldn’t forget the fear in Alie’s eyes as she fell down. The way she held his hand for dear life before everything happened. It was too much. But he also couldn’t forget the way she smiled when she was lying under him, joking around and making snarky comments, even through the pain. The pain of the bruises and the rib she broke because of him.

He couldn’t quite understand why that was messing up with his head. Of course, he felt guilty, someone from his team got hurt under his supervision but…Why was he feeling like he let Alie down?

Pelham’s thought was disturbed by the sound of the alarm blasting in the room. Truck 81 and Ambo 61 were being requested to attend a car accident. Quickly, Pelham ran to the apparatus floor and stepped inside his turnout gear, glancing at Alie every now and then. Before climbing in the front seat of the truck, Pelham met Alie’s eyes, but she quickly looked away. And that’s how she spent the whole ride. Looking outside the window, avoiding Pelham’s eyes.

Once the truck came to a stop, Pelham stepped out and approached the scene. A tree had fallen on top of a car that was passing by the street. There were two victims stuck inside the vehicle and no one knew in what state they were in because the branches were blocking their vision.

“Hey, Gallo!” Pelham barked after taking a look at the vehicle. "I want you to stabilize the trunk so we relieve the pressure on the vehicle.” Walking up to the truck, Pelham grabbed the chainsaw. “Mouch, you’re with me. We’re going to cut those branches so the paramedics can take a look at the victims.”

Nodding their heads, Mouch and Gallo did what they were told. Alison stood in place, looking around in confusion. “Uh-hum.” She dramatically cleared her throat. “What about me, lieutenant?” She angled up her brows.

“You’re going to keep the pedestrians away and make sure the traffic continues to flow as normally as possible.” Pelham spoke over his shoulder.

Clenching her jaw, Alie licked her lips and nodded. Turning her back to the lieutenant, she walked to the truck and grabbed the traffic cones. Alie was sure Pelham was getting his revenge on her for disobeying his orders on her last shift. However, she had no idea Pelham was doing that to protect her. Alie had broken her rib two weeks ago, and even though she said she was fine, Pelham didn’t believe her. He didn’t want her carrying too much weight or making too much effort. She should rest.

Half an hour went by. The branches had been cut off and placed by the side of the road, so Mouch, Gallo, and Pelham rolled the remains of the trunk off the vehicle. Violet and Sylvie were having a hard time trying to take care of the victims, so after looking around, Alie noticed that the traffic had gone back to normal and she wasn’t needed anymore. Rushing to the vehicle, Alie climbed on the back seat and helped Sylvie take the driver out of the car while Violet took care of the victim in the passenger seat.

When Pelham returned to the scene and didn’t see Alie taking care of the traffic, he lost his mind. Feeling like his head was going to explode, he waited until she stepped out of the vehicle so he could leash his anger at the firefighter.

“Have you lost your mind!?” He shouted, following Alie to the truck. As she pretended to ignore his callings, Pelham grabbed her arm, forcing her to turn around and face him. "Goddammit, Jones!”

As Alie turned around and stared deep inside his eyes, she noticed the vein popping on Pelham’s forehead. He could scream and shout as much as he wanted. She didn’t fear him. But she pissed him off. Now she had to take the consequences.

After glaring at Pelham’s hold on her arm, Alie looked up and met the lieutenant’s eyes. Taking a deep breath, she spoke with a calm, steady voice. “Let go of my arm.”

Taking his hand off of her, Pelham frowned, taking a step closer. “Is there any authority you respect, Jones? I’m pretty sure you were used to stepping over Casey’s orders, but I’m not Casey. SO WHEN I GIVE YOU AN ORDER, I EXPECT YOU TO FOLLOW IT!” His sudden rise of voice made Alie flinch, taking her eyes off of him. “If I have to yell at you again, it won’t be this nice. Do you understand me, Jones?” He asked through gritted teeth.

Alie was not going to take this kind of treatment and do anything. It was a dangerous move, yet she couldn't help the anger pumping through her veins as she clenched her hands into a fist. Feeling her chest rise and fall with rapid breaths, she clenched her jaw and took a step closer to Pelham, her nose only a few inches away from his.

"Don’t be deceived, Lieutenant,” Alie spoke, using a bitter tone to pronounce the last word. “I’m quite familiar with the rules. But I couldn't just stand here and do nothing while the paramedics needed help." Staring deep inside his eyes, Alie let her lips curve slightly into a smirk. “And don’t worry, we all know you’re not Casey. Casey would never yell at his team. Maybe you should pay him a visit and learn a few things from him.” Alie stepped away, but before she could leave, she stopped by Pelham’s side and spoke close to his ear. “Next time you lay your hand on me… I’ll rip your arm off and beat you to death with it.” Pulling away just to look in his eyes, she continued. “Go ahead. Underestimate me. That’ll be fun.”

“Uh-hum, lieutenant. Everything is packed up and ready to go.” Mouch spoke, flashing Alie a sympathetic smile as she walked past him. “Don’t take it personally, she acts like she’s tough but she’s a softie on the inside.” Mouch confessed, patting Pelham’s shoulder, before joining Alie and Gallo.

Nodding his head in understanding, Pelham sighed. Turning his head around, he watched Alie as she laughed at something Gallo had just said.

“Are you SURE I can’t punch him in the face?” Gallo asked Alie, raising his brows.

“Yes, Gallo, I’m sure.” She laughed, climbing on the truck as Gallo followed her.

“What if I just break his nose a little?”

-/-/-

No one knew how or when it happened, all the team knew was that the power went out in the whole neighborhood, including the firehouse. That meant 51 was out of service and everyone would have to spend the night in the dark until the power came back.

While most of the first responders chose to take a nap, Alie chose to sit outside the firehouse and enjoy some time alone, watching the cars pass by the street. It was a beautiful night, the moon was so bright and the stars were more visible now than ever.

But moments like this don't last forever. Alie’s phone vibrated on her lap, interrupting her train of thoughts. Glancing at the screen, she sighed. Her mom had been texting her about Stephen’s funeral and how she never showed up. Once again, Alie put her phone away and ignored her mom. She didn’t want to deal with her shit. Not today.

But Alie couldn’t help but think about her brothers. Their dad had just died and they needed their big sister. She felt her heart squeeze in her chest. It had been a while since she last saw the boys. It took all of Alie's strength to walk inside that house, the house where all her nightmares started, so she would pay the boys a visit at school every now and then. But she couldn’t see them now. Alie couldn’t face her mom, not after what she went through. They hadn’t seen each other in years, since the day Alie ran away from home, and she wanted to keep it that way.

Leaning further on the chair, Alie looked up to the sky and gazed at the stars. The tears ran down her cheeks as the image of her brothers came into her head.

“If there’s a god out there,” she whispered, suppressing a sob. “Please, keep my brothers safe.”

Alie stood in silence for a few minutes, admiring the sky, until she heard the firehouse door open. Sitting up in the chair, she quickly wiped her tears with the back of her hand, but it was too late, Pelham had already noticed it.

“Aw, so you do have feelings.” He approached Alie.

“The only feeling I have right now is annoyance.” She shot back, sniffling.

Standing in front of the firefighter, Pelham took a seat on the cold floor. After a few minutes of studying Alie’s face, he finally decided to speak. “I can see something is making you upset.”

“This ‘something’ has a name and a rank.” She held back a smirk as she met his eyes. “Lieutenant Jason Pelham.”

Throwing his head back, Pelham laughed, then shook his head. “Quit being sarcastic.”

“Sarcasm is the body’s natural reaction to stupidity.” Alie explained. “I’m having to deal with a lot of that lately.” She sighed, looking at Pelham.

“I know this isn’t about me. It’s about something else. Someone else, I should say. But if you don’t want to talk about it, I get it. We barely know each other.” Cocking his head to the side, Pelham’s lips slightly curved into a smile. “Even though I kind of like the secretiveness, I’d like to know you better, Jones.”

Looking at him with side-eyes, Alie scoffed. "I'd rather die."

“Ouch!” Pretending to be shocked, Pelham’s mouth fell open as he brought his hand to his chest. “When I first came at 51, I really thought we would get along. But you’re being a real pain in my ass, you know that, right?”

“I am a pain in the ass? Me?? I deserve an Oscar for putting up with you. Too bad they don’t work that way.” Alie bit the inside of her cheek, trying to hold back a laugh.

“Jesus! You test my patience every single day, you know that?” Pelham shook his head, getting up from the floor. “And here I was, thinking that we were having something nice between us and that you actually liked me.”

“Oh, I do like you.” Alie reassured him, getting his full attention. “Under penalty of death.” She smiled.

“I’ll tell you one thing, Jones. I’ve been in a lot of different houses, but I have never…ever... been treated like this by another firefighter.” And it was also the first time he let someone talk to him this way, he thought. Making his way into the common room, he spoke over his shoulder, “You’re an exotic little creature.”

“Yeah, yeah…My middle finger salutes you.” Alie mumbled as she showed him the finger, raising her arm above her head and letting a smile appear on her face once the lieutenant was out of view.

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Jason Pelham and Forever tag list: @dedlund82 @drakelover78 @alexxavicry @kellykidd @xmjthewitchx @ogallery21 @luckyladycreator2 @wanniiieeee @sesamepancakes @masset-fotia

#chicago fire one shot #chicago fire #jason pelham #jason pelham imagine #jason pelham one shot #chicago fire fanfic #jason pelham fanfic #jason pelham x reader #one chicago #chicago fire x reader #one chicago x reader #squad 3 #truck 81 #brett dalton #alison jones #forbidden love series

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winterinhimring · 3 years

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Hi! I’m Winter, or Morwen, multi-fandom blogger, occasional fanfic writer, and total nerd. (morwen_of_gondor is my AO3, Winter is from my URL, and I don’t care which one you use). Welcome to my blog. Here’s some stuff you might want to know.

Finding Stuff

Tolkien

My magnum opus is The War of the Ring, a behemoth AU of The Lord of the Rings which can best be summed up as “LOTR+bonus Sons of Fëanor”. Things related to it will be tagged #the war of the ring.

All my other Tolkien tags are pretty standard, except that Aragorn, Legolas and Gimli together are tagged #the three hunters.

Marvel

My tag for the MCU is (you guessed it) #mcu. Comics and shows I don't have specific tags for are under #marvel. I use both name and superhero alias tags for characters in general, but if the character appears before becoming a superhero, I'll tag them by name only in those appearances (i.e. Bucky in TFA will be only tagged as #bucky barnes, but from TWS on, he will ALSO be tagged as #the winter soldier. He and Steve together (regardless of superhero status) are tagged #superpowered idiot brotp. I also have a tag for #reasons why i love steve rogers, because there are many many reasons.

Posts related to "Across the Spider-verse" are sorted under #atsv. ATSV characters will NOT be tagged as Spider-Man, because there are way too many; I will use character names only.

Sam Raimi's Spider-man trilogy also has its own tag, #raimi trilogy, and Harry and Peter together are the #greek tragedy brotp.

Hornblower

My magnum opus in this fandom is The Kingston Shatterpoint, a collaboration with @musewrangler in which we did our level best to fix the entire Horatio Hornblower series. Things related to that are tagged #the kingston shatterpoint.

Horatio and Archie’s tag is #the indefatigable boys. Horatio, Archie and William are #lieutenants of renown, and Horatio and William are #age of sail brotp.

Other

My other steady fandom is Star Wars. I have written a couple different Star Wars-related series, but the only one that has its own tag on Tumblr is #cin vhetin, a massive fix-it story that fuses the Republic Commando and Clone Wars worlds (now complete and up on AO3!).

I have watched Lockwood and Co. and went on a posting spree immediately afterwards; all posts will be tagged #lockwood and co.

Meta, personal opinions, and my own original posts are usually tagged #winter says things. There’s also a #winter reads things tag but I don’t use it as much. For real-time reactions to things I’ve read or watched, I use #liveblogging. Anything I wrote is tagged, you guessed it, #my writing, though I don't reliably post updates to my fics on Tumblr, so AO3 will have a much more complete list of what I've done.

I also occasionally post things in the Three Musketeers, Murderbot Diaries, BBC Merlin, Lockwood and Co, and Detroit: Become Human fandoms. See the tags on this post for my fandom tags.

Avoiding Stuff

I keep real life things off this blog most of the time, but occasionally I see something that I think is worth a reblog. If you DO NOT want to see these, I tag them with #real life. My opinions are strong and not always popular, and I made those tags so that people can avoid them if they want. (If you want to engage me in discussion about those opinions, you are more than welcome to do so. Please do, however, maintain the usual standards of civility. If you come in trying to insult or shout me down, you’ll get nowhere and end up frustrated and possibly blocked. If you come in for actual discourse I would love to talk to you.)

I also use warning tags for certain content, visual or otherwise. As far as I can recall, the list is #warning: suicide mention, #warning: skeleton, #warning: abortion mention, and #warning: child abuse mention.

Again, welcome to my blog. I hope you enjoy your stay!

#winter says things #hornblower #hhornblower #lotr #tolkien #the murderbot diaries #murderbot #detroit become human #bbc merlin #star wars #marvel #atsv #raimi trilogy #lockwood and co

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fyodorsslut · 3 years

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Wrists- Bakugou Katsuki

Requested by: @toomanyotpslove

A/N: both of us can’t remember what the request was sadly, but I still have the story and find it very much worth publishing!! So, here we are! It’s not the type of thing I’d usually write, honestly, but I tried

AU: Fantsy!Au

Pairings: Dragon Lord! Bakugou x shape shifter! fem! reader

Genre: Fluff, some angst (?), comfort

play: Particular Taste by Shawn Mendes

Warnings: Not proof read, mention of physical abuse, child abuse, blood, mention of killing, reader triggered, enslaving, dehumanizing, bruises

He learnt to never touch her wrists.

So, when he accidentally pulls her back by her still-bruised wrist, her reaction doesn’t surprise him too much.

When Y/n jumps back, startled, clutching onto her wrist like she’s doing it for dear life, with her mesmerizing y/e/c eyes shot awide, Katsuki isn’t even surprised. A good 12 years of living with her have taught him this much, at least.

“I-I’m sorry,” he coughs vaguely, gulping and watching out for any sign of an abnormal reaction. Even though it’s been long, Y/n’s mentality isn’t that stable and any small trigger could be like a bomb, and the explosion is her turning into some animal and losing control over herself. “It’s alright,” Y/n sighs, rubbing a thumb against her wrist.

“You sure?” with a little tilt of his head, Katsuki takes a closer step towards scared Y/n. “You good?” “Yeah,” she smiled, nodding. It took a lot of Katsuki not to push further. Instead, he nods in concern, wary of the apology he now owes her

A few years back, or so he recalls, was when he met her.

(12 years ago)

The shore was so thick with humid, too much humid he couldn’t breathe properly. His small, bare arms prickle with the sensation of moisture, minuscule droplets too small to see dancing over his skin. The 6 years old boy stretches a little, moving his fingers in tiny circles, stirring up the cloying warmth hanging over the seashore.

Sniffing, he grimaces, the light breeze smells of fires doused by the passing rain. His small features scrunch, the kid at the castle, went out fishing or such. Instead, he was here, with his parents and some lieutenants, checking on what’s coming in and out the country.

Dazing away from his parents, he runs a hand through the flowers blooming from boxes along the pathway. The dirt around them is still wet from the passing rains and a particularly exuberant gardener. Behind him, more flowering veins run up the brick walls and rocks, these people love there flowers. The explode in various shades, thriving in this climate-

That’s when he spots it. Her

A few men bulk up, trying to casually hide it, tensing at the presence of the king and queen, clearly not have been expecting it. But, from the heir’s vantage point, he saw the girl clearly, Bruised, chained up so movement is very uncomfortable. Some leather, cage muzzle sat disturbingly on her mouth and wrapped around her head. With clearly barely any movement, the girl’s body could go through so much harms, aside from the position she’s sat in.

It’s almost terrifying, goosebumps crawling up the young boy’s body.

“Katsuki?” A gentle voice calls for the ash blonde. He slightly flinches, ripping his gaze off the girl in chains. He looks at his mother in a frightened manner.

“Is something wrong?”

Shakily, he points a weak finger towards the cage.

Holding a hand out, he manages to pull the abashed girl out. She has an air of misuse and neglect. Skinny and barely able to balance her weak form on her own.

Katsuki softly takes the muzzle off. He smiles at the face in front of him, only to be met by wide eyes and trembling lips.

“Are you okay?”

Flinch.

A small hand grips into the back of his dress shirt. A certain body’s heat closing up to him.

“She won’t do anything, not even eat. She spoke no words, and is continuously clenching onto the prince.”

Young Katsuki didn’t understand what was going on as the nurse spoke to his mom. A clan murdered? People... haunted? He didn’t mind her huddling onto him the way she did. He heard she’s a shape shifter, what is that?

“Shipped, enslaved, and sold in the black market. She’s a special, these ones cost a fortune there.”

He didn’t understand, sure. But he still knew whatever this girl has been through, it’s trauma. He knew that from how the words sounded, and from the look on his mother’s face, he’s never seen her more disgusted his whole life, not even when he eats his mucus.

He glances at her, bruises clouding her freshly cleaned cheeks, one eye purple. Her arms and hands were the same, too. When her eyes catch his, she looks down immediately, pulling away as an embarrassed red paints her cheeks.

“Katsuki...” The king slowly kneels before his son. “What do you think?” “What do you mean?” He raises a light eyebrow, confusion written on his face with wide letters.

The king glances over to his prideful wife, who only softly shrugs, both unaware of what to do with the girl who could’ve possibly ended up reduced to some lifeless corpse in a few more days of starvation. They don’t get to ask Katsuki more than he’s already done; finding the girl. Yet, it seems as though the almighty king and queen, for the first time, are out of any other options.

“Would you mind staying with her until we figure out how to help her do things on her own?” His brunette father spoke gently, simplifying the words so that the young, stubborn prince could understand much of it.

“I’m not a kid,” He huffs, annoyance unjustified. “Of course I’ll help her around. That’s my job.”

A scream erupts from her lips before she could help it. Her eyes immediately shot shut as she holds out her arms in defense, ready for the punishment for being so loud.

“Hey, easy there,” The man at the infirmary smiles gently at her. “What’s wrong?”

“She doesn’t want anyone touching her wrists,” Katsuki confirms, watching over them closely like an examiner over a test. The doctor helping figure out her bruises as y/n flinches like a spooked animal. “Manacles trauma,” he nods. “These monsters really did their business.”

“Katsukiiiii,” she whines, helplessly running. “Slow down a little!” “Not a chance!” Her friend chuckles aloud, tugging at the blindfolded girl’s hand as his legs take off, fleeting against the floor of the castle.

He comes to a sudden stop, pulling Y/n to stop too.

“Why’d you stop?” she questions, tightening her grip over his small fingers. “Shh, we’re here,” he talks, smiling agape as attempts to control his uncontrollable excitement.

His hand leaves hers, clutching on to the blindfold at the back of her head. Swiftly, he rids her of the void she was staring into.

The sight she was outlet into was like an ambush to her feelings. Unable to form any words or create a reaction other than a stuttered “is this for me?”

“Do you... yes! It’s yours! Do you like it?” The young ash blonde asks excitedly, watching over the girl’s reaction. “It’s even right next to mine!”

She turns to him, tears filling her pretty y/e/c eyes. Before he realized it, she’s pulled him into a tight embrace, sobbing for some reason unbeknownst to him.

“Thank you.”

( Back to the present )

“Can we go back inside now?” He felt her breath before he heard her voice, straight up nauseous from the amount of people gathered up in such feast.

“Yeah, sure, whatever,” he grumbles under his breath. He sounds annoyed, but it’s no sweat for his lover to slip past his well-made façade.

“Thank you, Katsu,” She presses a soft kiss on his cheek. Even though he knows no one saw, due to their position at the far corner of the room, his cheeks rise a flame. He immediately grimaces, you could practically see steam fuming from his ears as he, without any ado, stomps inside puling the girl alongside.

“I sure hope you have a proper explanation for that, princess,” He folds two strong, muscular arms onto his bare chest. The multiple necklaces and animal teeth almost scrambling away from his arms. “Explanation for what?” Y/n raised a brow, playing dumb. She smiles softly, twirling a lock of y/h/c hair around her index finger, knowing damn well the practiced act does the trick.

“Tch,”he rolls his eyes. Only throwing himself on the couch. “Sit here, idiot,” he pats the spot beside him in a soft manner, indicating he’s about to start a sensitive conversation.

Gracefully, Y/n places herself on the couch, placing he r head on Katsuki’s broad shoulder. His arm wraps around her waist like it always does, scooting her closer as it finds rest on her thigh ((stfu-)).

“This morning you were... crying?” He spoke softly, unable to find the perfect way to speak in this specific situation.

Y/n takes a deep breath, fingers fidgeting with Katsuki’s fingers. “Nightmares,” she admits. “The same one?” “I think,” she shrugs, gulping. “I can only remember the faces of.. you know.”

By the way her fingers slightly squeezed his, Bakugou knew he should stop the conversation there.

“Don’t worry,” his voice was so, very low she could barely hear him. He presses a tender kiss on the top of her head, letting his lips take the weight of her whole head, finding rest at that spot. “No one will harm you as long as I’m here,” his voice sent slight vibrations through her head, as he inhales the familiar scent of her hair. “And you know I’m too stubborn to die, anyway.”

“Wow, very comforting, Katsuki,” she chuckles, pressing a kiss on his shoulder. “Shut up,” he blurts, flustered. “I love you too, Katsu,” She held his hand with both hers, printing continuous pecks on it.

His hand grips her cheek, the other gripping the opposite. Fixing his seating, he pulls her face upwards, planting a firm and fiery kiss that’s too short for her liking on her soft lips.

Unlike the rest of the shapeshifters, and unlike most of the the population she lives amongst in this country, Y/n’s a soft, curious soul. Not made for a harsh living or to be put against anything. Yet, the fire in her only ever lured people, the difference in her. Of all people, the heir to the dragon throne, Katsuki Bkugou.

“Fuck you for being like this,” his ruby eyes bore into hers, unable to find a single flaw.

Both the kids’ hearts raced in their chests.

He learnt to never touch her wrists, instead, he touched her soul to anchor her

#bakugou #bakugou katsuki #katsuki #bakugo fluff #katsuki fluff #bakugou fluff #bakugou x reader fluff #bakugou katsuki x reader fluff #katsuki x reader #katsuki x reader fluff #bakugo #bKUGOU X READER #bnha fluff #bnha x reader #bnha x reader fluff #fantasy au #bakugou au #bnha au

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waiting4inspiration · 3 years

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Hefna XVI: Stridha

Summary: Estadir and Ivar and their armies ride out for one last fight with Vidar.

Warnings: angst, fluff, mentions of war, mentions of murder, strong language, unrequited love, mythical/magical elements (I guess)

Word Count: 2,198

Hefna Masterlist II Vikings Masterlist

Each war he wins, he adds a ring to his fingers to show off the number of victories he has won, the number of Kings, Earls, and Jarls he has taken down. Today, Vidar is certain he will have another ring to add to his collection. This ring will be the grandest of the all for taking down Ivar the Boneless and the horde of nomads fighting beside him?

It should be soon that they surrender to him now.

“My King. Their army is leaving.”

Vidar’s head snaps towards the man who had been keeping an eye on the city of Kattegat and he stops twisting the ring crested with the sigil of Yggdrasil. “What?” he sneers, storming towards the man that has just dismounted his horse. “They’re not supposed to be getting ready for another attack, they’re supposed to be surrendering like cowards!”

The man drops his head in shame as if it’s his fault that the army isn’t doing what Vidar wants. Taking a deep breath, the king runs his fingers through his hair and lets out a deep sigh. “I suppose we could muster up arms for another attack. Perhaps it will be easier this time,” he mutters, looking to his lieutenant who just gives a stiff nod before turning to gather his army.

Vidar walks to his tent to get ready for the battle. Even though he is old, he still has fight left in him. Besides, he’s heard that there is someone among the horde from one of the cities he overtook a long time ago. Someone he didn’t have a chance to finish off because of their escape.

This time, he plans on reuniting you with your family.

Ivar, Estadir, and the army behind them arrive at the battlefield a lot quicker than they had thought they would. Maybe it’s because of the smaller army they have this time compared to the last time. It is something that worried both men, but according to Ivar, they had managed to reduce Vidar’s numbers as well. And battles aren’t won by numbers.

They both look out at the field, silent and thinking to themselves of the plan. The plan is Estadir’s, which means that Ivar’s not completely confident in it but he has to do what he must to get this over with. After last night and what you had said to him, leaving him heartbroken, he just wants this to be over so you can leave and he doesn’t have to feel like an idiot anymore.

The army remains silent as to not blow their cover as they hide in the cover of the forest, waiting for a sign from their leaders. “You’re sure about this plan?” Ivar questions, turning his head away from the open field to look at Estadir.

“You have a better idea?” he asks back, looking over at Ivar with a stern look on his face.

Ivar rolls his eyes and looks back out, not answering the questions. Estadir grumbles to himself in his own language before he turns around and shouts out to his portion of the army. As they prepare to move, Estadir looks over his shoulder at the king on his chariot. “Don’t fuck up,” he barks before he moves off, not waiting for a response from Ivar.

About half of the army follow Estadir into the forest again, most of the people from his tribe, leaving Ivar with his brothers and the remainder of their army. Ivar breathes out a deep sigh as he looks out in front of him, thinking about your words from last night.

“You went to go see (Y/n) last night, didn’t you?” Hvitserk questions as he and Ubbe join his side, waiting with him for the signal from Estadir. Ivar doesn’t respond to that, only clenches his jaw and tightens his grip on the reigns. “What did she say?”

“That has nothing to do with you, Hvitserk,” Ivar snaps, turning his head down to him to glare coldly at him. “When this is over, she and her tribe will leave and I won’t go after her anymore,” he sneers, looking between Hvitserk and Ubbe as if to challenge them to ask him any more questions.

“If that is so, then why do you still carry her pendent?” Ubbe asks, his eyes landing on a pocket where the sigil of Yggdrasil hangs.

Ivar follows his brother’s gaze down to your necklace you didn’t take last night and pulls it out of the pocket. Then, he throws it to the side, abandoning it on the ground before he glares at Ubbe. “There. Happy? Can we think about this battle now?”

Ubbe and Hvitserk look at each other, thinking if you had rejected him. Of course, they would have known right away if you had chosen to be with him. Ivar wouldn’t have shut up about it. But he hadn’t said anything last night and looked at you with an almost sad look on his face when you and Estadir arrived this morning.

To the left of the massive expanse of the battlefield, Vidar’s army emerges from the trees, making Ivar and the rest of the army perk up in interest. To the right, Estadir and his own part of the army emerge, and the two armies stop far away from each other, staring at each other.

Estadir, who has left his horse behind, walks up in front of his warriors and stares at Vidar with his hand gripping his ax tightly. Behind him, his men start to bang their weapons against their shields in a slow steady beat. Estadir raises his ax to point it at Vidar, challenging him. And at the same time, every man begins to chant in a frightening voice that travels over the whole battlefield.

“You! Every man! Hear our voice. Listen to us now; in our hands is your death. We shall slaughter your people but any mercy is given. Fearless are we, death makes us laugh. War is what we want. You, will die. You will die in this battle.”

The chant is meant to scare an opponent and to challenge them. Today, it is also part of the plan to distract the opposing army. Because as they chant, intimidating them, Ivar and his army move out from their hiding place, forward to attack the unsuspecting army.

Estadir sees Ivar and his part of the army streaming out from the trees, raises his ax to the sky, and gives a loud battle cry before running forward himself, his warriors following him.

You’re certain that the longer you stay outside, the more clearly you can hear the sounds of shouting, battle cries, and weapons hitting shields. You stare up at the sky, arms wrapped around yourself, and your lip being held between your teeth.

Hearing footsteps behind you, you turn your head over your shoulder to see Alke walking towards you. You’ve noticed how her confidence and the way she carries herself has grown and you can’t help but smile at that. She looks out at the sky as she stands beside you, but she’s not listening for the same sounds you’re sure you can hear.

“There is a storm coming,” she whispers, looking at the dark clouds that slowly come down from the mountains. “Hopefully, it will come after the battle. I don’t think anyone would like to be caught in it.”

You swallow, nod your head as you look away from the sky and down at your feet. “Even so, I will stay out here until Estadir returns so that I know…” You stop, look down at your stomach as you breathe out a heavy sigh. “So that I know he is alright,” you say, unfolding your arms from around you and placing a gentle hand over your stomach.

Alke notices this, turns her head towards you, and her eyes falling to your hand. She turns to face you, places her hands over yours, and makes you look up at her. “I have faith. Do you?”

You feel it’s easy for her to say she has faith because she was chosen by Itris just days ago. It is easy to have faith when the Gods have been near so recently. Still, you cannot ignore the constant feeling of celestial magic in your veins. The feeling you’ve always had since Virheia chose you to be her envoy, her voice.

Smiling at Alke, you gently nod your head saying that you do have faith. “We should wait inside. Do not listen. It will only make your mind think of things that are not true,” she whispers, moving her hand to your shoulders to turn you around, leading you back to the Great Hall.

But as you start to walk away, everything goes silent. There is no more shouting, no more screaming, no more metal hitting metal. No even the sounds of the wind moving the trees. It’s all quiet.

The quiet seems to draw everyone’s attention, making them over the roofs of the houses. And the only thing that finally breaks the silence is the distant thunder roll in the dark clouds. But then, it’s quiet again.

You look over at Alke whose eyes dart all across the sky but just like you, she does not seem to be worried. After a battle involving your people, your Gods, it is often quiet. And most of the time, it is a good thing. The Gods reward a successful battle with peace. Peace after war. It always seemed fitting to you.

Those that have chosen to stay instead of following Estadir to battle come out from the temporary home in the Great Hall. The thought of going inside to wait is now lost. Now, everyone wants to wait outside to see who returns. How many more will be lost?

It’s not certain how long it has been since the silence fell, since you’ve been waiting for the army to return. But when you hear someone from the gate shouting and order to open them, your heart leaps in your throat and you take a step forward, whispering to Virheia, to Dedon, to bring your beloved back to you.

The first person you see coming through the gates in Ivar. He rides towards the Great Hall, towards you. He glances at you, his face and armor covered in blood. He doesn’t look at you for long, turns his gaze away, and shouts something to someone behind him. People start to move forward to greet their family that has returned. But as you look for your own people, your own family, you catch the sight of the man that started this war.

Vidar.

His face is bruised and bloodied, obvious that someone brought down their fists on his face. His wrists are bound and two men lead him into the Great Hall, probably to take him to a cell. You thought he would have been killed in battle, not brought here. But, then again Ivar has more reason to deal with him than you do. Vidar did declare war on him before you two even met.

Then, you see Estadir. You breathe a sigh of relief and feel your entire body relax before your feet take off toward him. The moment his eyes land on you, he drops his ax and runs to meet you halfway. He knows you don’t care that he’s covered in blood like those around him. You’ve definitely seen him in worse condition.

He wraps his arms around you as you throw yourself at him, lifting you off the ground for a moment and pressing his lips to yours as he holds you close to him. His hands move to hold your face after setting your feet on the ground again and he breaks the kiss to rest his forehead against yours. “The Gods have blessed us, my love.”

A big smile breaks across your face and you nod your head at him Estadir drops one hand to your stomach. It’s true. With his return, it means that the Gods have accepted your ritual and gifted you with a child, an innocent life.

Even Ivar knows what this means. He watches you and Estadir, looks down at his hand resting on your stomach that he knows now will grow with your child. Estadir’s child. He feels a fool to think that he could have ever won your heart as he watches the way you stare so lovingly at the man in front of you. How had he not seen that before? Was he so blind?

He moves his gaze over to Alke who stands in solitude, her gaze fixed on him as if she was waiting for him to look at her. Ivar straightens his back under her gaze, takes a deep breath when she doesn’t look away after a moment and your words about her come to his mind again. Alke gives him a look, almost to say that she had told him you’d never leave Estadir for him. She told him so, and he chose to ignore it because he thought he knew you better.

Then, Alke looks away from him to reunite with her family.

#ivar #ivar x reader #ivar the boneless #ivar the boneless x reader #unrequited love #vikings #history vikings #vikings fanfic #ivar ragnarsson #estadir x reader #reader x oc #hefna

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womenofwonder · 3 years

Note

*Ahem* Royai, duh?

✋How they met

Surprisingly, they didn’t meet at her father’s house. Not, actually it happened way back in kindergarten. Riza was quiet, and she dressed funny, and she always seemed dirty, so she was an target for bullying in the rather well to do private school they were in. On the first day of school Roy (who was a Casanova even at age six) decided this would be a good time to rescue a helpless damsel from the bullies surrounding her, taunting. Unfortunately, he underestimated the number and size of the kids teasing her and got his ass kicked. Luckily for him Riza quickly stepped into help. She smashed one bully’s nose in with her book and then pulled out a pocket knife. They all left in a hurry. And at that moment, Roy realized he was in love.

😘First kiss

Ah...so the first kiss wasn’t exactly a happy one. It was during Ishval. They had won a pretty important battle and everyone was celebrating. They both got drunk. The kiss felt good, and Riza probably would have been ready for more despite the circumstances (screw it, she was going to die soon anyway) but Roy walked off. Even drunk he couldn’t get rid of the feeling that he didn’t deserve her kisses, especially during a ‘celebration’ of him frying more innocent people. Riza honestly thought he had a problem with her and that was the first time she cried in Ishval.

🤯First fight

It depends on what you mean by fight. They got in a lot of fistfights as kids, but that wasn’t ever personal. They bickered constantly but the only big, painful fight they ever had was on promise day, when she almost had to shoot him. The first lighthearted, bickering fight they ever had was when he was apprenticed to her father and she would remind him to do his homework. Not much has changed, honestly.

🍷First date

When he was still an apprentice to her father, they used to wait until he was asleep and then Roy would take her places. He did it mostly to be nice, because Riza didn’t get a lot of fun and growing up in a brothel met he knew exactly which bars would give a couple of kids drinks. But they were honestly dates in everything but name.

💍How they got engaged

Well, they didn’t make the decision. Grumman declared they were getting married at one of his press conferences. “I have decided to end the anti-fraternization and allow my granddaughter to finally marry General Mustang.” Riza just looked at Mustang and said “Okay.” Later on he did do the entire fancy dinner date and gave her a expensive engagement ring.

💒Wedding

Actually, it was surprisingly small and private. It was really sweet and quiet. To everyone’s surprise Roy made Fullmetal his best man, mostly as a joke. Other than a very insulting speech about how Riza was probably out of her mind to marry such an idiot, he was really nice about everything. Riza’s wedding dress had a very high neck (to hide the scarring) and a very short skirt. She still has a gun holstered to her thigh, wedding or no wedding. Rebecca is the maid of honor, and as Riza honestly doesn’t have many friends both Olivier and Winry are bridesmaids. Of course, Elicia is the flower girl despite being a bit old for it. Hayate is the ring bearer. Just kidding. Maybe.

👶First kid

Riza got pregnant after the first year of the their marriage. It was an accident. Their feelings on the matter were conflicted. On one hand, both were thrilled to have a baby, but in the other hand, it didn’t really fit very well into their plans. How did being a parent figure in with the possibility of future with the fire squad? Not mention both were really worried that they would be horrible parents due to everything they’d done in Ishval. To make things slightly more complicated, it turned out they weren’t going to have one but two children. But when the babies do come: a little Rianna and Thomas, they’re beautiful. Of course, Riza and Roy are great parents and the kids actually help them have more faith in themselves.

🥰A random fluff moment

Riza had forgotten exactly how cold it was up north. Shivering, she blew on her hands in hopes of warming them.

“Here,” Roy said, offering her his coat.

“Don’t you need a coat sir?”

“I had use my flame alchemy to heat myself up,” he said.

“Since when have you mastered that ability sir?”

“Just take the coat.”

She took it.

“You’re shivering an awful lot sir. Are you sure you’re not too cold?”

“N-nope. I-I’m g-r-eat.”

“Sir, really, you can have this coat. You’re going to get frostbite.”

“N-no. You k-keep the coat-t. T-that’s an or-rder.”

Olivier gave them both a look. “Mustang, either freeze to death quietly or kiss her now so we get on with this meeting. I would personally prefer the former, but anything would be better than watching your painful attempts at being a gentleman.”

Riza took advantage of his shock to give him back the coat.

😭A random angsty moment

“Thank you,” she says, as if there’s anything to thank him for. As if he’s not about to torture her.

Roy was good at torturing people. He had plenty of practice at this point. He knew exactly how much of his flame it took to cause a certain amount of pain. At least he could make it hurt as little as possible.

“I won’t scream,” she promised.

“Yeah, you will,” he knew exactly how loud it would be too. He had heard it countless time from countless lips and now he was going to hear it from her.

She nodded, so calm about the entire thing. Took her knife, torn off some of her white coat and wadded it up in her mouth. Stepped forward. Turned around to him.

He told himself to hurry up and do it. Waiting would only hurt her more. It shouldn’t be this hard. He’d done it a hundred times before. What was one more person?

He snapped his fingers, and a familiar smell of burning skin filled the arid desert air.

😩A random hurt/comfort

Riza was exhausted. She wasn’t sure how doing just menial tasks could drain someone so much, but it probably had something to do with the fact that her boss was a homunculus holding her hostage. To make things worst, even coming home was no relief. The shadows were everywhere, even in her small, bare apartment. The second she let herself feel safe, or stopped thinking about the fact that she was being watched constantly, he (or rather it) would remind her. Maybe it was a sudden sense of a creeping bloodlust, or the glimpse of slitted eyes and slices of teeth, all which disappeared the second she looked. She had no privacy. These last few days she hadn’t even dared to bathe.

To make things worst, today someone had broken into her apartment. She couldn’t even fathom why they would do that. Wasn’t the constant surveillance enough? But it was too well down for a common thief. If she hadn’t know better she wouldn’t of even noticed it was broken into. But she had placed a slip of paper in the door when she went out, and now it was gone.

“You’d better have not made a mess of things,” she muttered, hoping Pride could hear it. She opened the door and for a second was frozen in shock.

They hadn’t broken into her apartment at all. Roy had.

Flowers filled up the entire place. Some in vases (really expensive looking ones), some hanging from the ceiling, some just randomly scattered about. In the middle of her kitchen table was a note and bottle of whiskey.

Black Hayate ran up to her, barking happily. She reached down to pet him, rather absentmindedly.

“That idiot,” she murmured, fighting a smile. “He’s crazy.”

She went over to the table and picked up the note.

To 1st Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye,

Look, I’m sorry, but I really didn’t know what to do with the flowers. Please don’t shoot me.

I hope you enjoy the whiskey. It’s really good stuff. And you sounded like you needed it.

Roy Mustang. (Riza had to squint at the doodle next to his name. Was that a heart made out of flames? Really? Yes. Yes it was.)

PS: before you ask, yes, I’m doing my paperwork.

Riza rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t stop smiling. The flowers left plenty of shadows, but for once she couldn’t bother feeling scared. She took a swig of the whiskey and enjoyed the burn down her throat. Black Hayate jumped into her arms, and she cuddled him.

Leave it to Roy. The first time he sent her flowers and he had to give her an entire cart worth.

#Royai #fullmetal alchemist #ships #roy Mustang #riza hawkeye #fluff #angsty #Whump #hurt/comfort #emotional whump

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kannra21 · 3 years

Text

Not Weak

Geten found herself in a tricky situation and she doesn't want Re-Destro to find out. How can a certain fire-user help her by making things even more complicated?

characters: dabi (todoroki touya) x f!geten

word count: 3.2k

warnings: angst, past memories, scars, abuse mention, foul language, comfort, making out

notes: I'd like to thank @seenalready13 for proofreading this work since I can be v clumsy with grammar haha. I'm v grateful for the help! And also, the picture above belongs to 九わん (@91qwn), here's the link to the artwork. Please support their work!

✂-------------------------------------------------------

Geten, as the keystone of the entire army, had the task of leading her group and ensuring that anyone within their ranks followed her instructions. The loyalty of their people was unquestionable as everyone adhered to Destro's teachings, and she was immensely proud of her Cryokinesis.

The ice-user was grateful to their grand commander for granting her this amazing opportunity of making up for all the great things that he's done for her. She wore an honorable title, and her reputation has risen a lot since the hooning of her meta ability for years. However, she did experience all sorts of things their organization had to offer from the moment Re-Destro promoted her to his right-hand woman, believing that she'd be strong enough to take on the responsibility and he was right. It wasn't like she was bothered too much, especially since dealing with a couple of thugs on her own was no big deal for her. Still, this didn't mean that after performing their duties the soldiers couldn't relax and show their true colors.

This was the case with one guy in particular, who was casually hitting on her and calling her pet names which were utterly gross and humiliating. She had the utmost need to wipe the fucker out of the face of the Earth, but she also knew damn well that Re-Destro would disapprove of such actions considering that the army must avoid inner conflicts at all costs. Of course, she wanted to take matters into her own hands, to prove to the commander that she was deserving of her title, but the jerk simply wouldn't take her seriously as she wanted to be through with whatever problem she had without necessarily dragging Re-Destro into it. That's why she decided to take the easier route and use someone to her own advantage.

"What's in there for me?" Dabi asked, uninterested as he fixed the staples on his burnt skin.

It's true that they were partnered up to share their leading spot at the Vanguard Action Guerilla Warfare Regiment: Violet, but this didn't mean that they had to play nice with each other. Especially after Geten's offensive speech of power and people's place in this world.

She clenched her fists in her pockets; of course, she should've known that he'd ask for something in return. "I don't have much to offer,” she said through greeted teeth.

She looked almost pitiful if it weren't for her leading position; she felt stupid to even ask for help when she could've just ended the whole mess with one swift motion of her ice, and bam, the fool's dead. Well, if things could be that easy.

"I... I'M THE TOP LIEUTENANT AND THEREFORE I DEMAND OBEDIENCE! LIKE I NEED TO CONFIDE IN YOU, BURNT CHICKEN NUGGET SCUM!"

"THE FUCK-" Dabi stood up, fire flaring up in his hand and ready to strike as he saw Geten backing off with ice covering her right arm, bracing herself for the upcoming attack.

And then he saw it, at this very moment, the look of hesitation and unease covering her blue eyes. She... didn't want to fight? Was she defending herself? It reminded Dabi of something else from his past, or rather someone, defending themselves from his flames, wearing the exact same expression on their face while protecting his youngest brother. The dripping water from her ice washed over his memories as he obtained one after another in a frantic blur. Nostalgia soon followed the guilt, and it tore him apart, except he didn't want to show it, but Geten already noticed his anger faltering which was her cue to relax.

"I'm sorry..." he whispered under his breath, barely for her to hear.

"What?" as the question rolled out of her mouth, she internally lost herself in delirium "BLUEFLAME CRISPY MCBACON JUST APOLOGIZED WTFWTFWTFWTFWTWTF-"

"Geten?"

"YES?" she snapped, too loud for what she initially intended.

"I'll help you, and there's actually something you can do for me in return."

She crossed her arms and smirked confidently at him from her previous ego boost, much to his frowning expression.

"Whatcha suggestin'?"

"I'll scare the fucker off, and you'll then... cool down my skin from using my flames. Deal?"

Geten looked at him for a moment to determine if he was joking about the offer but from the looks of it and his deep husky voice that she got used to oh so many times during the past week of working with him, she concluded that he was, indeed, not messing around. Dabi expected her to laugh it off or straight up refuse whatever suggestion he had on mind, but from the manner she weighed her choices in her head and the way she looked at him, with those bright, beautiful eyes and long lashes fixated to his own... Wait, when did they get this close?

The two backed off and cleared their throats in embarrassment. They were freaking staring at each other, and for fucking what?

"I... It's a deal then."

"Good."

…

"Just... don't hurt yourself too much while dealing with the idiot."

Dabi turned his head so fast his neck hurt.

"WHY ARE YOU ACTING SO WEIRD?!"

"SHUT UP AND MOVE YOUR FUCKING ASS!"

As they reached the place where their target was supposed to be, the man soon showed up by Geten's side and started pestering her with all kinds of bull he made her deal with on a daily basis. And just as she felt sick enough, Dabi put his hot hand on the guy's shoulder, making his skin sting in the first-degree burns. The guy then backed off and glared at the fire-user with utmost disdain.

"THE FUCK DO YOU WANT?"

"Listen up freak", Dabi took Geten for the waist and gently pulled her towards himself, her body leaning on his own and fitting perfectly under his larger frame, "I saw what you did there. You’d better stop messing with my girlfriend, or else you'll burn to ashes."

Geten internally screamed and pinched him on the side for being a fucking idiot. "HIS GIRLFRIEND!? THIS WASN'T SUPPOSED TO PLAY OUT LIKE THAT!"

"You sound too confident, guess I should give you a nice beating to teach you a lesson."

He soon regretted his decision because Dabi was entirely down to realize his threat, and after a couple of burns, the moron retreated while he still could and left Geten alone.

And while she hated that they needed to make a scene in front of the other soldiers who were whispering to each other and exchanged who knows what kinds of things, she couldn't leave Dabi alone like this so she put his hand over her shoulder and helped him reach a more secluded area. They entered his room because he said that he kept the first aid kit in a drawer. It was also the first time that Geten came by but it didn't look at all exciting either; the room had a very plain interior, darkened space with the shutters down, piles of dirty clothes creased to the side probably waiting to be washed, the bed left unmade since this morning, a bunch of disinfectants sitting on the nightstand and some used medical gaze forgotten to be thrown away. Geten almost felt sorry for him. It's not like she was doing any better but at least she knew how to take care of herself.

She seated him carefully on the bed, and he started digging through drawers until he found what he needed. When he was all set, he began to take his jacket and shirt off but then Geten panicked and lowered his shirt.

Dabi's confusion mixed with annoyance was now directed towards the ice gremlin's pretty face. "Aren't you going to cool me down?"

"I THOUGHT YOU ONLY MEANT HANDS AND THINGS LIKE THAT! WHY DO YOU HAVE TO TAKE YOUR SHIRT OFF!?" she shouted with blushing cheeks covering her face with her hands.

Dabi soon understood what she meant and closed his eyes, wearing a disheartened smile.

"It's not like you'll see much. Just a bunch of patched-up skin and bruises. It's not even that hot."

"THAT'S NOT WHAT-,” but then she noticed that his expression never actually faltered, he looked to the front and waited patiently for her next move, sadness surrounding his wounded features. It's not like it was his first time reconciling with the facts, but still, being this burnt and knowing that it wasn't entirely his fault, but his father was also to blame, which made him remember the days when he wasn't in such a fucked up condition as he was now. It made him feel a bit of regret too. But he needed to acknowledge that the path he took was the one with no return, and he needed to accomplish his mission. Endeavor needed to be brought down at all costs; maybe then he'd gain a sense of worth and show him, prove to him, that he was deserving of more incredible things. The ice-user sighed in defeat and gave up on her embarrassment, "just show me what you got.”

Dabi was brought out of his train of thought, and he took off his shirt. It turns out that he was right, some of his scarred skin was sizzling slightly, and his wounds looked terrible because they were situated further on the back where he couldn't reach. She took the disinfectant from the nightstand and tapped it lightly on the freshly made scars. He made a slight grimace, but didn't flinch, didn't wince, like he was afraid of showing his weaknesses by putting on a tough act. It'll all pay off, he assured himself, once he gets rid of his dad.

When she finished, he allowed Geten to scoot closer to make her do her thing. Her icy hands on his skin felt so good that suddenly he forgot about all of his problems. He turned his face to the side so she wouldn't notice, but the goosebumps on his skin told her otherwise.

She made a sly smile and cocked her head to look at him from the corner.

"What's up, tough guy? Can't hide the way I make you feel good?"

He laughed under his breath. He liked when she was this flirty. It made the situation less awkward. But he also felt uncomfortable with how he needed to depend on someone, just like her, when she asked for his help. Were they that similar?

"I need to ask you something,” Dabi asked quietly like he was probing the waters.

"Yea?"

"Do you still think that I'm weak?"

The silence filled the room, and he had the need to explain himself.

"You said that there's no worth living if the user doesn't possess a strong meta ability. Hooning your power was the only thing worth your time as you didn't wish for anything else. You always thought that our Quirks defined us, that they're things we identify with for life. Now that you've taken a closer look at my condition, tell me, what do you think?"

Geten suddenly grew interested in the laminate floor under their feet as she couldn't look anywhere else, her eyes deep in thought.

"That was very mean of me, and I'm sorry, especially since you risked your own health for my reputation."

"... by calling you, my girlfriend?"

"WHY DID YOU DO THAT IT DIDN'T MAKE ANY ACTUAL SENSE!?, her teeth grew sharp, and her eyes furrowed like some rabid cartoon character.

"It did, actually. Because of my threat, the fool is now afraid of looking at your general direction, knowing that I'd kick his ass whenever he says something stupid again."

Unbothered, he drank his painkillers from the glass of water.

"... Wait. You'd really repeat all of this... for me?"

Just as he drank, so did he spit, coughing and wiping his chin with his forearm.

"Of course I would, but don't get the wrong idea."

""WRONG IDEA"? YOU LITERALLY CALLED ME YOUR GIRLFRIEND IN FRONT OF EVERYONE!"

"IT WAS JUST TO CONFUSE THE FUCKER!"

"THEN WHY WOULD YOU REPEAT IT?"

"IT'S NOT ABOUT YOU REALLY!"

"THEN WHY'S IT!?"

"I JUST NEED YOU FOR YOUR STUPID ICE FOR FUCK'S SAKE!"

The room fell in complete silence once again, and the tension became so thick one could almost cut it with a knife.

Her expression grew cold, and her eyes bore nothing but pure disgust. "So that's what this was all about."

"WHY ARE YOU ACTING SO SURPRISED NOW? IT WAS OUR DEAL, REMEMBER?"

She sat up from her seat and went straight to the door, readying herself to leave.

"Wait."

Just as she was about to step out, she turned around, his tone of voice catching her off guard only to see him sitting miserably on his bed, head hanging and elbows leaning on his knees, grieving.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like that."

Geten stood at the doorway for a minute and then slowly entered again, closing the door behind her. Dabi continued.

"I say things that I don't mean and push the people I care about away."

The white-hair watched his back in silence until she decided to speak up again "... So you actually meant it... the other way?"

"I'm such a sick fuck."

She sensed the crack in his voice and came closer, undoing his hands only to see blood trailing down his face.

"Whoa, what's going on with your scars?" she tried to wipe it off only to smear it across his cheeks, and Dabi smiled a little.

"Aren't you disgusted by it? Now all of your fingers are red."

She didn't mind his words but created an ice cube to wash it with the water.

"I should call Sceptic. He’s much better at this medical shit than I am."

"No one can help me with it. My tear ducts are all burnt out, and I can't really tear up much."

"Wait, you're crying?"

Dabi refused to say anything as she tried to wipe the rest of the blood off, pressing gentle circles on his now iced skin.

"Blueflame…"

"Hah, actually, you're right. Maybe I really am as weak as you told me back then. I literally am falling apart. How pitiful."

Without a second thought, she slapped him across the face, and he took his stinging cheek in his hand.

"YOU FUCKING IDIOT!"

"Thanks...."

"I'm sorry. Look, you're everything but weak, so don't you dare call yourself that. You endured so much pain, your skin is the proof of the things you've gone through in life, and you freaking survived. No one would be able to do this but you. You're not weak, Blueflame, far from it."

"You think so?"

"Of course I do! If it weren't for your help today, I would have talked to Re-Destro, and he'd think that I was too weak for my leadership role. I never actually thanked you for this, thank you."

"You're not weak either, doll. I'm pretty sure that you've beat my ass the week before."

She just smiled at him, and then they looked at each other the same way they did when they made their offer, except they didn't back off this time. They leaned into the kiss that was slow at first, but then they applied more pressure, and it grew more passionate. It was also their first time, so they couldn't really make fun of each other's clumsiness. Whenever their teeth collided, they laughed a little but continued until it felt right. She melted against him, her lips working in tandem with his and his hand slid up her outer thigh as he leaned forward to deepen it. She grasped his lower lip with her teeth before pulling away for some air, and he groaned.

"God, this felt good..." his chest heaved, his words a gravelly whisper.

She stood up and widened her stance, legs bracketing his own as she reached out to grab the back of his neck. She leaned over, forehead resting against his.

"You're not so bad yourself, gorgeous-eyes."

"I differ, yours are much more gorgeous."

"Really? Kinda sappy coming from your side." she grinned, but this didn't discourage him in the slightest.

"I could get lost in them, I mean it."

He caught her face in his palms, drawing her in deeper as his tongue slipped between their lips and slid against hers. His Quirk activated, his kiss is fierce and sweet all at once, and her head spins as his hands slid up her thighs, warming her up. Her mouth became much cooler now, and it sent shivers down his spine. She planted her icy hands on his shoulders and pushed them both backward, landing on the comfort of his bedsheets.

He drew circles over her back and waist, taking in her beautiful features as her head hovered over his own, hair tickling the skin on his face. She gave him a little peck that made him smile, and she cupped his face, thumbs stroking the side of his cheeks.

"So we're official now?" she didn't know why she asked. It was kind of obvious now, but she wanted to hear it coming from his lips.

His expression became serious again as he looked to the side concerningly. He really didn't want to spoil whatever they had going on with his fucked up story about his family, hero society, his mission that could possibly cost him his life for the sake of achieving greater good. Now the last thing he needed was to fall in love with someone and die when he finally found his reason. Life was such a bitch sometimes.

"I'm currently dealing with a very unfortunate situation. I'm afraid that you'd get affected, and I don't want to endanger you by it."

She tilted her head questionably, "And I thought that we'd overcome everything as long as we're fighting together."

He looked at her worryingly, but his words bore a tad bit of curiosity in them, "You want to fight by my side?"

"Of course, you have my full support." she grinned widely, and he smiled, shaking his head in disbelief. It was amazing how much optimism, or rather confidence, could be stored in one single ice gremlin. But he loved her more than everything.

"Very well then." he turned them over and planted a kiss on her forehead before getting on his feet and pulling her up towards himself. "Boss told me about some business we need to take care of in the neighborhood. Cocktail hours?"

"FUCK WHY DIDN'T YOU SAY EARLIER!?"

"Relax, we'll arrive on time." he took his shirt and jacket and put them on.

As they walked towards their location, Dabi took her hand in his while some of the soldiers watched them in confusion, remembering when the two fought against each other.

He couldn't care less. She was the first person who ever supported him, so if his days were outnumbered, then he'd as well spend them with the only person worth his time.

#bnha #boku no hero academia #mha #my hero academia #dabi #geten #dabiten #dabi x femgeten #f!geten #fanfic #paranormal liberation front #meta liberation army #league of villains #plf #mla #lov

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