#nice conversation with sniper

[everythingbrainrot]

i like to imagine ms pauling helped make the meet the team videos to encourage people to hire them as mercs. just chilling with all these insane guys. trying to ask them normal interview questions. of course they all derail it every time.

[hearts4hughes]

ೃ࿔:･ wallstreet!rafe fires the new employee who flirts with you

doug was a nice guy. hard worker. sharp with numbers, even sharper in meetings. rafe had liked him. that was until he looked at you.

the young boy was new, and when he laid his eyes on you, it was over for him. after all, how was he supposed to know you were off limits?

not officially, of course. there was no memo, no HR policy. just a quiet understanding that bounced through the halls like gospel. you were rafe’s. an implicit boundary no one dared test. well, except doug.

you never noticed. you smiled at everyone, laughed when people made jokes, didn’t catch the way conversations stalled when you walked by.

but the others noticed.

they saw how someone would lean in too close, ask if you wanted to grab lunch, maybe compliment your perfume. the next morning, their desk would be empty. cleared out. wiped clean. like they’d never existed. rafe never offered an explanation. and no one was stupid enough to ask for one.

you’re leaning against the front desk, coffee in one hand, laughing. rafe hears it before he sees it. the easy kind of laugh you save for moments when you’re not working, not thinking, just feeling.

it sounds too good. too familiar. and it isn’t meant for him.

doug’s standing close…too close. he says something with a grin, and you nudge his arm, playful and sweet, your lashes batting like you don’t know you’re the reason the entire room slows to a crawl.

you sip your coffee. you smile at him. and rafe sees red. he doesn’t show it, not really. just a tick of his jaw, a subtle shift in his stance. his eyes lock onto the scene like a sniper scope. you glance over and catch his gaze, but rafe doesn’t look away. not yet.

doug, oblivious and riding high on that smile of yours, goes about the rest of his day with a little more swagger. he thinks he made an impression.

he thinks he’s safe.

~

it’s dark by the time doug makes it to the parking garage. he’s halfway to his car when the sound of italian leather cuts through the silence.

“doug.”

he turns. rafe steps out of the shadows like the fucking reaper. his tie loosened, suit jacket off, sleeves rolled. that smug smirk? gone.

“mr. cameron- sir,” doug fumbles, standing straighter. “wasn’t expecting-”

“you weren’t expecting anything,” rafe cuts in, voice low, almost conversational. “that’s your problem.” he stops a few feet away, gaze pinned like a dagger. “you think I hired you for your charm? your banter?” a soft, humorless laugh. “i’ve seen your numbers. average at best.”

“sir, if this is about-”

“you touched what’s mine.” he growls, all mean and possessive. it takes all his control not to use the weapon tucked securely in his waistband.

doug blinks, face beet red. “i-i didn’t mean-”

“you flirted with my assistant like you had a fucking chance. like you didn’t walk past ten other desks cleared out before yours.” rafe steps closer, and doug visibly swallows. “i’ve buried better men for less. you’ll be gone by morning. pack your shit.”

he turns like the conversation bores him “and doug?” he adds, voice echoing slightly in the cavernous space. “if i see you near her again, you won’t need to worry about severance. you’ll need to worry for you goddamn life.”

~

the next morning, you walk into his office with coffee in hand and that same sweet smile. “doug didn’t last long, i see.”

rafe doesn’t look up from his desk.

“shame,” you add, just to push. “i thought he was nice.”

he finally looks at you. slow. deliberate. luke he was seconds away from breaking his composure. “he wasn’t.”

you sit, crossing your legs like you don’t feel his gaze tracing the curve of your thigh. you take a sip of your coffee. “shame,” you say again.

and smirk.

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[certifiedcodbabygirl]

Let's Get Physical

pt.1 pt.3

Never did you think you would be doing this. God, how desperate were you? Freshman year in University with an Astrophysics major, and you couldn't bring yourself to ask for help on your homework. So, what did you do? Turn to a hooker for help.

You heard of Soap from a friend (her so called best night of her life) and she mentioned how he was military, blows stuff up and shoots shit. Okay so demolitions and sniper? That's physics, right? Close enough, you'll take it. Now, you had no intention of sleeping with him, no. You just needed schoolwork done.

At least it started that way. One study session with him turned into two. Then three. Then you had a test coming up, and it was worth 20% of your grade. He was your go to, your very expensive tutor. Once he noticed that this was just a study session dynamic, he stopped charging you for the sessions. You were sweet, you were funny, and he enjoyed being around you. A strange friendship bloomed.

The day the dynamic between you two shifted was the day after you took your test. Soap had made plans with you to meet at a coffee shop that day, pass or fail. You had scored a 93% and couldn't wait to tell him. Walking through the shop door, you were met with the sight of Soap sitting at a table in the corner. He flashed you a smile, quickly looking you up and down, then to the counter in an attempt to hide it. Why did you have to be so pretty if he couldn't have you?

You walked to the table, sitting in front of him with the test in your hand. He sips his black coffee, and gestures to the paper.

"What'd ye get?" he asks, slightly impatient, "Ye have to h've gotten a pass"

You smile at him and slide him the test, "I did"

He looks at it and breaks out into a wide grin, "And ye thought ye couldn't do it. Guess a hooker isn't such a bad tutor, huh, bonnie?"

You blush and shake your head slightly, "Your military experience is what's making you"

He barks out a laugh, raising his hands in fake surrender, "Never said it wasnae"

Fifteen more minutes pass in friendly banter, simply enjoying your time together. You weren't blind, he was nice to look at. But that's just objective attraction, right? And of course it didn't help he was smart. And funny. But it wasn't a crime to find him attractive, even if you couldn't have him. He'd only want sex, right? There's a very small chance he'd want you outside of the bedroom.

Walking out the door, him by your side, he offers to walk you back to the university. It was getting dark earlier, so it was for your safety, as he would say. Nothing more, right? The walk back was quiet, yet comfortable. Conversation wasn't forced. Stopping in front of the building, you place your hand on his forearm.

"I really appreciate your help. Without you, I would've probably failed and would have had to spend the rest of the semester make the grade up" you smile lightly.

His eyes glance down at your hand, and he smiles, "It's nae issue really, good for the ole noggin' to keep the wheels turnin"

You chuckle, "I think I'll be okay now, as sad as it is that we won't study together anymore", You smile sadly. You remove your hand from his forearm and bring it down to your side.

His eyes follow your hand, and he looks back up to your eyes, "Y'know, we don't have teh hang out strictly for studying", he says, gently grabbing your hand.

Your heart speeds up, palms warming up, "what would uh, we do?", you ask softly.

"I could take ye to the movies, or a museum if you'd like? Like a-"

"Date?", you ask hopefully, heart pounding.

"Yes", he says with certainty.

You break out a smile, "I'd like that", you almost whisper.

It's quiet for a moment when you whisper, "I should head inside, gotta get sleep for class tomorrow"

He nods and lifts your hand to his mouth, "I'll text you", he says softly and then kisses it.

Butterflies rip through your stomach before you force yourself to walk away. He waits outside until you close the building door, then walks home, the warmth of your hand burning into his memory.

It isn't until you're in your bed, your fingers rubbing soft circles on your clit, with the still fresh memory of the way his lips felt on your skin, that he texts you.

Art museum on Saturday?

You smile as you text back

I'd like that

[francixoxoxo]

•.* Special Clientele .*☠︎︎

Frank Castle x reader

in which you’re Frank’s weapons supplier, but both of you know that’s not the only reason he’s your loyal client. AKA the big bad Frank Castle has a crush on his gun girl!!

my first Frank fic!!! Short and sweet (under 1k), rated g with plenty of banter

“Here’s the most gorgeous weapons dealer I know.”

You throw your chin over your shoulder, fingertips black with grease from fumbling with the inner workings of a prototype. Frank’s standing near the entrance of your shop, hands shoved in his jacket pockets. The metal and silver pieces clatter on the countertop when you toss it down, frustrated with it. “I’m the only weapons dealer you know, Frank.” He grins at you like the devil, voice gruff as he shrugs.

“Well. The only one who knows my style.”

“I hate to break it to you, handsome, but your ‘style’ is pretty basic taste.” You whirl around, leaning back against the countertop and bracing your hands on the edge. The pet names are just routine, at this point. Frank huffs, mocking offense and throwing his arms up a bit.

“Woah, woah, woman. You callin’ me—“

“— a basic bitch?” He barks a laugh, turning his cheek to look at the wall of displayed weaponry to your right. Crossed his arms across his broad chest. Christ, that gray Henley fits him perfect. “The truth hurts!”

Frank’s been coming to you for years now. A very, very loyal customer, and though you prided yourself on your top-notch service and grade-A products, not to even mention your expert modifications, tune-ups— whatever. You knew all those things are only half the reason he patrons your underground, those-in-the-know shop so diligently. Because, underneath all the flirting, the jokes, the jab-for-jab conversation, you have this feeling about Frank. You can feel him looking at you past when your attention is pulled elsewhere. You know he’s buying way more weapons than one man could ever know what to do with, even if that man was a decorated ex-marine. And getting unnecessary modifications, lingering longer than he should in the dingy workshop and asking infinite questions.

Part of the fun of it was how infrequently you met. For an hour or less, once bi-monthly. Give or take a few weeks. And every time, the moment he leaves, the pontiac roaring to life in the alley outside your narrow gutter-window; you’re just thinking about the next time you’ll see him.

Well. He was right in front of you now, atleast. Pointing a calloused finger up at an automatic rifle. “That one’s beautiful.”

“Mm. But I just modified your heckler and koch to have the same action. And brought down the kickback to that one’s.” Frank presses his lips thoughtfully, drawing his brow and throwing the rifle a look like it betrayed him. “Do you even know what you’re lookin’ for?”

“‘Course,” Frank scoffs, scratching at his chin. He needed a shave, stubble was dotting his jaw and giving him a shadow later than 5 o’clock. “I uh. Wanted a new..” His dark eyes dart around the shop, you cross your arms and cock a brow at him. Maybe you’re pushing your hip out on purpose— you didn’t particularly dress nice in your workspace, but you guess that the navy of these sweatpants is too dark to see any oil stains. And the gray tank top you threw on didn’t fit too bad. Well. Your client wasn’t sparing it any looks, so he clearly appreciates the outfit more than you did.

“What’s that up there?” Frank nods his chin up towards your locked storage unit. Your brows furrow of their own will, for a second you think he means the Hall and Oates poster taped to the metal. But your eyes follow his finger as he raises it to the sniper rifle tucked on top of the locker and tight to the wall. “You holdin’ out on me, sweetheart?”

You huff a laugh at the pet name, but shake your head. “You wanna buy my Vidhwansak?” The burly man in front of you nods a little, eyes wide and lips tight like a puppy caught with something in its mouth. It takes a lot to not laugh in his face.

“That.”

“Vid-whan-sak,” you repeat, Frank shakes his head like it’s a hopeless effort. “You think you could handle it?”

“Y’know who you’re talkin’ to? Babygirl, I won medals bein’ a sniper. Titles.” You shrug your shoulders, moving to climb onto the counter and haul the large rifle off the locker. You hear heavy boots just before Frank reaches out, grabbing at the dip of your waist without digging in his fingers. He reaches up behind you, the front of his Henley brushing against your upper back, bared by the tank top and your hair in a ponytail.

Now, make no mistake. for all the flirting in the world, over the stretch of three years, never has Frank ever come so close. Close enough you can smell his cologne, feel his sigh of exertion puff on your neck. Not to mention that you can feel the fly of his jeans against your hip— he’s not the type of man to push himself against your ass, not right out the gate. Even if you almost wish he had.

“Jesus fuck. S’heavy.” Frank scoffs, but there’s no evidence of him struggling besides a slight pop to his bicep under his shirt. He draws away from you, clanks the sniper on the empty island-table in the middle of the workshop. You whirl around, eyes wide. The asshole he is, he doesn’t even look up at you, but at your silence, glances at you through his eyelashes. “What?”

“You didn’t even need anything today.” He shifts on his boots, leaning on his arms braced against the tabletop. Furrows his brows at you, but you can tell by the curl to his lips that you got him beat. “You were here not even three weeks ago. And you made up a problem with the stock.”

“I didn’t,” Frank huffs, screwing his face up indignantly. You stare, lifting your brows and pressing your lips together. His words come in a faint, shameless huff of a chuckle, “Might’ve.”

“Do you have like.. a crush or something?” Maybe you don’t know how to handle it besides huffing and puff and cross your arms. Putting up a tough look, even though you’re considerably smaller than him in atleast three categories.

“A crush?” Frank laughs, but you can see some of the nerves in the way he picks at the butt of the sniper rifle. “What’re we, twelve?”

“You’re pushin’ fifty and you still won’t ask me out. That’s what’s twelve.”

“Twelve isn’t an adjective.”

“Since when are you all about grammar?”

Frank grins like an idiot at that, rubs his jaw as his melty brown eyes fall. His broad chest swells with a deep breath, and when he looks up at you, a kind of expression you’ve never seen on his face— you think your heart skips a beat, forreal, like the movies. “Would you wanna?”

“Wanna what?” You can’t help stepping closer, your hands laying on the countertop. Not far from where his palms braced the metallic edge. He shrugs, tilting his head a little.

“Go out w’me.” Frank’s voice is so sincere, yet you can tell he’s trying his damndest to win you over. He’s putting three years the line. Three years of bi-monthly, hour long meets that he’d think about and replay in his mind hundreds more hours. Three years of hesitating to call you, having your contact saved but being more terrified of coming off like a weirdo to you than of any gunfight. Three years and it could, technically, go to shit in the next minute.

But it doesn’t.

Because you’re nodding your head, this rare and tender and gorgeous smile crossing your face. And the words, “Why not?” are falling from your lips, so soft-looking despite hours working in the shop and without any chapstick.

Frank doesn’t buy the Vidhwansak. He doesn’t need to. He doesn’t need any more excuses to come ‘round you, loiter your business and make you explain things to him that he already knew from the marines. ‘Cause the woman he buys his guns from isn’t just his weapons-supplier girl anymore, you’re just his girl, point blank.

And if he gets to test out all the new methods and modifications and shipments of rifles you get, help you in the shop, help you lug around all the heavy shit (even though you managed just fine before him), well, that’s just a little upside of loving on you.

[prettyboypistol]

How to Seduce the TF2 Mercs

Scout

Pay attention to him. Give him genuine compliments and honest feedback. He wants to feel loved and like he's worth someone's time.

Kisses and physical affection. Mans thinks about the time you put your hand on his shoulder for weeks.

Just say you love him, man. He's been overlooked his whole life.

Soldier

Take him seriously- don't belittle him or make jokes about how he views the world. He knows he's a little crazy but he is genuinely trying his best to make the world a better place.

Defend him!!! If someone shit talks him, punch that motherfucker in the jaw!!

Honest discussions with you asking a lot of questions, take the time to get to know him and you'll have a defender for the rest of your life.

Pyro

Much like with Soldier, defend them and take the time to get to know them.

Gifts, gifts, gifts!!! Give them gifts!

Be a little flirty ;> don't baby them! Treat them like the adult they are!

Demoman

Bro just ask to fuck. He'll probably say yes.

He loves a bold mf that knows how to take what they want. Come on to him, buy him a drink, and ask if he's got any company for the night.

If you're going for something a little more long term, just remove the sleeping aspect. Just say you're interested in getting to know him you'll most likely get a date and see how things go.

Engineer

He's a sucker for practical use gifts (i.e. mechanical oil, a new wrench, etc) or sentimental gifts (photograph of you two, love letters)

Call him handsome! Call him pretty and a gentleman! Appeal to that cowboy energy and treat him all respectful like and you'll definitely catch his interest.

If you're not the type to do all that song and dance, go the opposite route. Stump him with a logistic problem and tease him about it. He'll nonstop think about you for months and bitch about you to his sentries.

Heavy

Mikhail likes hotheads and determined people, someone who's not afraid to fight if the situation comes to it.

Ask him about general things and slowburn that mf about nice conversations until you two can talk about personal things.

Ask him to help you clean your guns! Ask him weaponry questions about what would suit you better in the field!

Medic

GET THIS MAN SOME ORGANS. GET HIM SOME FUNDING!!!! get him a lil lovebirddddd

Take the time to get to know his birds and if the birds like you, Medic automatically likes you more.

Take an interest in his medical discoveries and his life! He's a prime yapper and wants to t a l k. That's why he never shuts up when doing surgery.

Spy

Romance him traditionally, to be honest. Keep it classy and court him like the romantic he is. Roses placed in his locker, prime dinners delivered to his door, BE A ROMANTIC ABOUT IT.

If you can't dance, ask him to teach you "for a mission" (He will know that you're the one behind all the flirtatious gestures bc he's SPY)

Butter up that man like he's a piece of toast. Handsome young man who captured your heart and holds it hostage. Classy gentleman that could get away with world domination with gorgeous eyes like that.

Sniper

Don't come on too strong, he's a bristly one. Be calm and casual. Hit him with that friends to lovers.

He's more of a tough nut to crack and insecure of if you actually like him, so be sure to flood his mind with ambiguous hints when you think you see signs of him showing interest in you.

To really seal yourself in his heart, spend a lot of quality time with him! Go camping, hunting, fishing, driving, anything that gets the both of you alone and quiet.

[burr-ell]

I was reminded today of the work Laura did with Vex from roughly episodes 59-72 of C1 and just how much was going on in the background to get from beat to beat, and it really is a showcase of her work at its strongest.

We start with the Feywild conversation in 1x59, where she's fretting so much about going to Syngorn and facing her father again that she's truly vulnerable to someone who isn't her brother for the first time; she is then immediately validated and supported when Percy not only reassures her personally of her worth, but declares it to her father's face and by extension to all of Syngorn. Following that, she's still flirtatious, but she's now more tenderly affectionate and playful with Percy, teasing him about being grumpy in the mornings and having a shooting competition mid-battle. She has a conversation with Vax in 1x63 where he insists that the title was nice but she didn't need it to be worthy, and then immediately following the break, Laura actively has Vex seek out Percy to talk about the title and how much she appreciates it.

Following the battle with Saundor, Laura repeatedly mentions that when Vex goes to sleep, she keeps holding Fenthras and hearing Saundor's words—unwanted daughter, unproven ally, selfish and cruel—over and over in her mind. She takes some extra time with the card-reader in Ank'harel in 1x65 to ask about whether she made the right choice to reject Saundor. After the emotional turmoil of Percy's death and her confession at his resurrection, they still have a "really third-grade" moment in the library in 1x70 where even when the entire rest of the party knows, she can't say it to Percy himself. Instead, in 1x71, she fusses endlessly over making sure Percy's sniper nest is secured before the Vorugal fight.

And then after all of that, we get the culmination of that work: the conversation she has with Percy in 1x72 about forgiveness. She reveals how inspired she was by his choice to forgive his worst enemy, and how she connected it to Saundor being so lost in his betrayal and grudge that he became a corrupted shade of himself. And then she brings it to the Elvish language, how Fenthras in part means growth, how not only do you have to forgive other people to grow you have to forgive yourself, and she reveals that she carved the Elvish word for forgive directly onto Saundor's old bow. It's an incredibly beautiful and romantic conversation, yes, but it's also a major moment of personal triumph for Vex, taking this Vestige that effectively represented bitterness and resentment and not only restoring its original meaning, but adding to it, making it hers, and on top of it all letting go of trauma and abuse at the hands of an elven city. It's stellar character work, mostly in these small details that add up over time, and they culminate in this absolutely incredible moment that just feels so earned.

[nicolejones412]

Out of Sync

Bucky Barnes x fem!reader

Summary: You've found yourself with the 107th fighting Hydra, where you meet a handsome Sergeant. But something just isn't right.

A/N: Thunderbolts* really just has me going back to my roots, just now I'm more of a Bucky girl than a Steve one. Enjoy this first semi-fluffy chapter! (No Thunderbolts spoilers for quiiiite a few chapters).

FIC:

You couldn't wait for Agent Carter to join you in Italy.

You had been sent ahead with a small SSR outfit to prep for more of the Strategic Scientific Reserve to join you once you had confirmed the intel you'd received about Hydra's base.

You were pretty sure you were only sent because Colonel Phillips could only deal with having both you and Peggy around so much.

You sighed as you dismissed a soldier you'd been interviewing.

If you heard one more man ask-

"Now what's a beautiful dame doing out here?"

You looked up at the dark haired man that had entered your tent, completing your thought for you.

"My job, Sergeant...?"

"Barnes, ma'am. Sergeant James Buchannan Barnes." He took a seat.

"Nice to meet you Sergeant Barnes, I am Agent Grace with the Strategic Scientific Reserve. I understand you may have noticed something strange on assignment?"

"Well ma'am I am a sniper. It's my job to notice things."

You sighed. If these soldiers would get over the fact that you were wearing a skirt for 2 seconds you might actually get some good information today. Unfortunately it seemed like this was about to be another waste of your time.

"The soldiers we faced last week, they weren't wearing normal uniforms. They had a different symbol. Some kind of octopus."

"That would be the symbol of Hydra. Hitler's rogue science division."

"Well they must have some kind of mad genius working for them. Their weapons aren't normal guns. They weren't firing bullets. More like just blue beams."

"Blue beams?"

"Check with medical. Not nearly enough bullet wounds for what went down."

"I will check on that. Anything else that might be helpful?"

"They retreated west. There weren't very many of them, but they were quick."

You wrote down what he'd told you.

"Thank you for your time Sergeant Barnes."

"Of course." He stood and held out his hand to shake yours.

You looked at his hand for a moment before standing to shake it. As you looked at his eyes, something felt familiar.

He nodded to you and went to exit the tent, pausing before leaving.

"Sorry if I offended you ma'am, when I first came in. I meant it as a compliment."

You shook your head. "None taken Sergeant. Stay safe out there."

He chuckled. "I will do my best."

The next day the 107th went after Schmidt's men.

Two days later, Peggy and the rest of the SSR that was coming arrived, and you'd reported your findings from the interviews.

"Magic blue weapons? That's what you have for me?" Colonel Phillips asked.

"That's about all the men reported back. Other than confirming that it was Hydra who carried them."

Phillips shook his head. "It's not a lot to go on."

"I think we might be able to triangulate the position of their base, sir."

"We'll see what we hear from the 107th. There's got to be a way to-"

A soldier ran into the tent.

"Colonel, the 107th is back. At least, what's left of it."

-

You looked out into the rain, listening to Captain America's show in the distance.

"What's got you so down?" Peggy asked behind her.

You shook your head as you turned to get back to work. "So many soldiers. I just can't believe he-they are gone."

"He?" She raised an eyebrow.

"Forget it. A slip of the tongue."

"I see."

She could see right through you, but wouldn't push the issue as she walked away to speak with Captain Rogers. You were grateful.

You'd had one conversation with the man. Why did the fact that he was most likely dead feel so...wrong? Soldiers die every day in war. He wasn't even that nice to you.

He wasn't dead. You knew it. You felt it. But why did it matter?

A few minutes later, you watched as Captain America ran through the mud to Colonel Phillips tent. You followed as quickly as you could.

"Please tell me if he's alive, sir. B-A-R-"

"I can spell." Colonel Phillips paused before standing. He looked at you, then down at the papers he was holding.

"I've signed more of these condolence letters today than I care to count. But the name does sound familiar." He looked up at the captain.

"I'm sorry."

"What about the others?" Rogers asked. "Are you planning a rescue mission?"

"Yeah it's called winning the war."

"But if you know where they are why not at least-"

"They're 30 miles behind the lines. Through some of the most heavily fortified territory in Europe. We'd lose more men than we'd save, but I don't expect you to understand that because you're a chorus girl."

Rogers set his jaw.

"I think I understand just fine."

"Then understand it somewhere else." Colonel Phillips began to walk away. "If I read the posters correctly you've got some place to be in 30 minutes."

You followed the captain's eyes to the map on the wall.

"Yes sir. I do."

You and Peggy locked eyes before following Steve out of the tent.

-

Sending the one successful super soldier you had behind enemy lines probably was not the best idea, but there was no stopping Steve.

And someone had to cause a distraction to cover their exit.

"Are you insane?!" Colonel Phillips lectured.

"Captain Rogers was going with or without-"

He scoffed. "Captain Rogers? He's a barely trained circus monkey and the most expensive asset the United States army has created and you helped him go against my orders."

He slammed his fist on the desk as Agent Carter walked into the tent.

"You're both going straight back to the typing pool after this stunt."

"Colonel-"

"Not another word. Or would you like to explain to the Secretary of Defense why Captain America - the only super soldier we have is gone?"

There was a commotion outside as soldiers ran to the gate. You and Peggy looked at each other before following the Colonel.

You reached the gate just in time to see Captain America lead the 107th back into camp.

"Sir," Steve addressed the colonel. "I turn myself over for disciplinary action."

Phillips looked around at the men who he'd frankly assumed were dead.

"That won't be necessary."

Your gaze wandered from Steve to the man next to him. Who was already looking at you. You nodded to him, and he nodded back before turning to look at Steve.

"Let's hear it for Captain America!"

You joined in as the crowd cheered.

-

"Knock, knock?"

You looked up from your desk. "Sergeant Barnes. I assumed you'd be at the celebration."

"I was, but something just didn't feel right."

"Oh?"

"Yeah." He looked around at the otherwise empty tent.

"You weren't there."

You looked up from your notes and maps for the first time. "I am flattered Sergeant-"

"Bucky," he corrected.

You smiled. "Bucky. I am flattered but I didn't do much, and there is plenty still to be done."

"Yes, yes of course, Agent Grace." He turned to leave but then turned back around.

"Come on, let me buy you a drink."

"Sergeant-"

"Bucky."

"Right, Bucky, that really isn't-"

"Steve wouldn't have made it out of camp without your help. Come on, one drink."

You shook your head. "I just-"

"It can wait. A drink, some food, and some sleep will do you good."

You sighed. "Fine."

Bucky's grin grew from ear to ear. "Perfect."

-

Read Part 2 here.

A/N: All will make sense eventually. I hope. 😊 This will not be an entirely 1940s era fic, so if you're here for that, heads up that I'm only planning another chapter or 2 of this vibe.

[bettelaboure]

⊹Say it again⊹ | Kwon Ji-yong

⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ Pairing: Kwon Ji-yong x Reader ⊹ Warnings: explicit sexual content, adult language, dominant/submissive dynamics, consensual roughness, dirty talk ⊹ Summary: After an evening of deliberate teasing at their friend's casual gathering, the tension between you and Ji-yong escalates into an intense confrontation at home. Ji-yong makes it clear he intends to respond to your provocative comments in the most passionate way possible.

⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹ ⊹

The invitation to Seunghyun's had come earlier that evening, just after dinner. Ji-yong had mentioned it casually as he cleaned up, tossing dishes into the sink. "Seunghyun's hosting tonight. He mentioned drinks, some music, just something chill. Feel like going?"

You'd watched him closely, biting back a smile. "Sounds good. It'll be nice to relax." But as you moved around him, picking up a glass from the counter, you deliberately brushed against him, feeling his body tense slightly.

Ji-yong’s eyes had flashed, meeting yours in silent challenge. You'd been doing it all evening, subtle touches, lingering gazes, bending a bit too low when you knew he was watching—each movement designed to tease and entice, to wind him up until you could practically feel his frustration simmering beneath his skin.

Before leaving, you'd chosen an outfit with careful intent—a tight-fitting dress that hugged every curve, elegant but simple yet provocatively short. Ji-yong had leaned against the bedroom doorway, eyes narrowed with quiet appreciation and a hint of possessiveness. "Planning on tormenting me all night?"

You'd laughed softly, adjusting the hem teasingly. "Maybe. Think you can handle it?"

He’d stepped forward, grabbing your waist, pressing his hips suggestively against yours. His voice dropped low, dangerously calm. "Careful. You're playing with fire."

You smiled, pushing gently away, maintaining your teasing distance. "Maybe I like getting burned."

Now, Seunghyun’s apartment is warm with laughter and low music, the hum of casual conversation weaving through the open-plan living room like a silk thread. You’re curled into the oversized couch, a wine glass balanced in your hand, your heels already kicked off hours ago. Ji-yong’s somewhere behind you, deep in a conversation with Youngbae about music licensing—half business, half the kind of creative banter that only comes after midnight.

Across from you, Hyo-rin is cross-legged, a mischievous smirk tugging at the corners of her lips as she sips from a half-empty glass of red. The conversation has taken a sharp turn from outfit choices and PR nightmares to what you’re both actually interested in right now—books. More specifically, that book.

“You got to chapter seventeen, right?” she leans in, voice just a little hushed, not wanting to be overheard but clearly hoping to stir a reaction.

You nod, grin matching hers. “The scene in the study.”

She lets out a low whistle. “God. The way he just—” she gestures vaguely, “—pins her against the desk and tells her to shut up before she even finishes her argument? The control—”

“The way he doesn’t even raise his voice, just slides his hand around her throat and says, You wanted a reaction? Here it is,” you quote, warmth spreading across your skin just remembering the line. “I swear I nearly—”

“Same,” Hyo-rin laughs, fanning herself. “My man was asleep next to me. I had to bury my face in the pillow.”

You tip your glass toward her and say with a crooked smirk, “Honestly? That scene had me like, ‘Bend me over, slap my ass, and fuck the feminist right out of me.’”

Hyo-rin bursts out laughing, nearly spilling her drink. “You’re insane.”

You just shrug, laughing with her—but you feel it instantly. That pull. Like a thread from across the room yanking at your spine.

You glance back and, sure enough, Ji-yong is watching you. Not openly, not dramatically—but his eyes are locked on you like a sniper scope. Still mid-conversation, nodding along with Seunghyun, but that look is different. Fixed. Quietly dangerous.

You turn back, sip your wine, pretend like your skin isn’t prickling everywhere under his gaze.

The rest of the night blurs in soft laughter, gentle goodbyes, and the comfort of familiarity. The car ride home is quiet, but the air between you isn’t. It’s dense. Charged. Ji-yong drives with one hand, the other draped lazily over his thigh, fingers tapping to the rhythm of the music—but you can see how tight his jaw is. How focused.

When the door clicks shut behind you, you’re halfway through tugging off your jacket when he’s suddenly there—pressing you against the wall beside it, his body a slow, deliberate weight pinning yours. Not rough, not rushed. Just there, his breath warm against your ear.

“So…” His voice is low, almost amused, but there’s a tension underneath. A flicker of something darker. “You want me to bend you over, slap your ass, and fuck the feminism out of you?”

You inhale sharply, head knocking lightly against the door behind you. He smiles against your cheek, but it’s not sweet—it’s all teeth.

“Didn’t think I’d hear my girl say that. Not in front of Seunghyun. Not in front of everyone.”

You grin, pushing your hips just barely into his. “You weren’t exactly rushing to shut me up.”

“Didn’t want to interrupt,” he says, hand trailing up your side, under your shirt. “I like hearing what turns you on when you think I’m not paying attention.”

“You always pay attention.”

“Damn right I do.”

He pulls back just enough to meet your eyes. There’s heat there—so much it burns, but it’s steady. Focused. “Say it again.”

You blink. “What?”

You blink. “What?”

His fingers tighten on your waist. “What you said to Hyo-rin.”

You feel your stomach flip, a wicked smile crawling across your lips. You lean in, lips barely brushing his. “Bend me over, slap my ass, and fuck the feminist right out of me.”

The moment you finish speaking, his mouth captures yours, deep and demanding. His tongue slides teasingly against yours, making your knees buckle slightly. He catches you easily, his hand tangled in your hair as the kiss deepens, hot and possessive. His other hand grips your hip tightly, guiding you toward the living room, clothes discarded along the way until there's nothing left but skin against skin.

When he bends you over the edge of the couch, your breath catches sharply, anticipation tightening every nerve. Ji-yong’s hand smooths over your spine, lingering gently at the curve of your waist before coming down in a sharp, playful slap that sends heat flaring across your skin.

He leans over you, his voice rough and teasing in your ear. “Is this what you were imagining? Me, pinning you down, taking control, fucking the shit out of you?”

“Yes,” you gasp, pressing back urgently, desperate for more contact. “Exactly like this.”

He chuckles darkly, fingers sliding lower, teasing and drawing out your pleasure until you're whimpering softly, needy and ready. His lips trail heated kisses along your shoulder, down your spine, and back up again.

“Beg for it,” he whispers huskily, teeth grazing your skin. “Tell me exactly what you want.”

“Please, Ji-yong,” you breathe desperately. “Fuck me—hard.”

He groans deeply, a raw, primal sound of approval, finally sinking into you with a slow, powerful thrust, filling you completely. Your body arches instinctively against him, welcoming the depth, savoring the exquisite stretch of his entrance. He pauses momentarily, savoring the sensation, his breathing ragged and hot against your shoulder.

His hands grip your hips tighter, guiding you to match his rhythm as he begins moving again, slowly at first, each stroke deliberate, teasing. "You feel so fucking good," he whispers hoarsely, voice laced with desire, fingers digging into your skin possessively. He picks up speed, thrusting harder and deeper, each stroke driving you forward, making you gasp and moan beneath him.

You push back eagerly, craving more, matching his every movement with desperate need. His hips slam into yours relentlessly, the sound of skin against skin filling the air, mingling with your shared, breathless moans. Ji-yong leans forward, lips trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses along your neck, murmuring heatedly against your skin, "Tell me you're mine."

"I'm yours," you cry out, gripping the couch tightly, overwhelmed by the building pleasure. His rhythm grows faster, fiercer, driving you both toward the edge, each deep, forceful thrust pushing you higher, closer to release. "Ji-yong," you plead breathlessly, "don't stop—"

"Never," he growls, hand slipping between your thighs to tease your sensitive flesh, igniting every nerve until you're trembling, falling apart in his arms. Your climax rushes over you, intense and shattering, pulling him over the edge moments later with a deep, satisfied groan, your name tumbling from his lips.

Afterward, spent and tangled together in the aftermath, his fingers trace gentle circles along your skin, lips brushing affectionately along your shoulder.

“You always know how to get under my skin,” he murmurs lazily.

You turn, smiling softly up at him. “Maybe that's exactly why I do it.”

He chuckles quietly, pulling you tighter into his embrace. “Good. Don’t stop.”

Taglist: @redhoodedtoad @mirahyun @sherrayyyyy @sherxoo @dilfismz @breakmeoff @janie-osuih @forevervibezzzz1 @babygirlewis @mashtatosworld @blade-in-red

[hello-gloomy]

Hello.

I would like to request a polyamorous relationship, Stanley x reader x Xeno +18.

Thanks

Finally, my evilness can be put to good use.

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That Makes Three

XenoStan x Fem!reader

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Description: Xeno and Stanley return home to you, and the three of you have a long overdue reunion.

Warnings: Smut, BDSM, titles, odd angles, unprotected sex*wrap it before u tap it gang* threesome.

A/N: man I love these two so much it's disgusting. Also thank you for 200 followers!

Words: 1,137

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Stanley and Xeno said their goodbyes to Luna and started to walk to Xeno's private lab, where you were currently with Suika and one of your friends. They had returned from their multiple-month trip and were on the way to surprise you. Stanley was walking a bit ahead of Xeno, and he took a moment to admire the sniper's back; Stanley must have felt his gaze as he slowed his steps, walked next to him, and gave him a flirty glance. They arrive outside the lab door and decide to eavesdrop before entering. Stanley leaned a bit more inside the door without catching the group's attention, and Xeno followed his lead; they caught sight of you, and Stanley couldn't help but grin while Xeno's breath caught in his throat. You were wearing one of Xeno's black coats and Stanley's belt holsters; you paired their items so nicely with a little black skirt and a white dress shirt, and a pair of boots that looked similar to Stans's as well. You must have missed them so much. The blonde went to focus on your conversation while the Doctor was to look you over.

" (Name), why do you like Xeno and Stanley?" Your friend asked while you were messing with a small item in your hand.

" Stan's pretty, Xeno's Cute." You tell him with little care, and he glares you in response.

"Can you give a real answer.."

"They both have big di-"

"A PG ONE." You roll your eyes and put down what you're doing to think about an actual answer; when you do, you swing around to face your friend and tell him.

"I admire Stanley's conviction and his loyalty to the people he loves; his strength is beautiful and deserves to be respected, and I adore Xeno's intelligence; his interest in science and what he does with it and-" Your friend is looking at something behind you, and Suika is giggling to herself you narrow your eyes at and turn around. The sight in front of you makes your hand fly to your mouth.

"Please don't stop on our account, dear; you gave quite an elegant reasoning," Xeno says while Stanley chuckles beside him. You hop up from your seat and wrap your arms around Xeno first while Stanley shoos your onlookers and whispers something before the door shuts and locks behind them. The blonde walks back over to the both of you and watches as you squeeze The Doctor, and he, in turn, pets your hair while murmuring into your ear. He rubs your back, and you open up your arm and motion for Stanley to join the hug; he comes over and hugs the both of you tightly and places his face on top of your head while staring at Xeno. Stanley grins a bit at his lover before moving his hand down the column of your back to reach your rear and giving an affectionate squeeze. You launch off of them with a gasp and provide a huff to the smoker while Xeno laughs at the antics.

"Quite the elegant ensemble you've put together, my love," Xeno tells you while taking your hand and making you twirl; your face heats at the practically predatory looks they give you. Stanley takes your previous seat while Xeno circles you like an animal. You regain your nerve and grab Xeno by his collar, keeping his face close to yours while you walk the both of you backward to where Stanley is sitting. Place yourself in his lap while placing Xeno between your legs. Stanley wraps his arms around your waist and places his head on your shoulder while watching you and Xeno. You pull the platinum closer to your face, biting his lower lip but not letting him wholly kiss you.

"Why don't you help me with my shoes, Dr. Wingfield, while I and Commander Snyder watch?"You suggest, and said commander lets out a quiet groan. Onyx eyes watch you as he kneels to the floor and unzips your heeled boots. Stanley tries to remove your coat, and you give him a little 'not yet.' He simpers a bit at your command before biting your shoulder and gripping you tighter; you reach into your belt pocket and pull out a lovely metal chain. Xeno's eyes widen at the sight, and he lets out a gasp; you smirk down at him; you lean down closer to him and let him decide if he wants this, and he fervently nods his head to you, and you straighten back up before attaching it to him. He finishes taking off your shoes, and you tug on the chain and obediently show his collared and chained neck to you; you reward him by pressing your stocking-clad foot to his groin. You keep rubbing over that area while watching his face; he makes little noises for you in response. Stanley, feeling a bit left out, grinds up into you, and you slow your pace at the feel of his hard-on.

"Unbutton my shirt, commander." You sigh out to him, slackening your grip on the chain and letting Xeno relax against your legs. Stanley removes the coat and unbuttons the top part of your shirt, exposing your bra but leaving your shirt still on; Xeno pulls your stockings down your thighs while shoving his face under your skirt to lick at your underwear. You get lost in their sensations, and Stanley takes over, pushing Xeno back gently while making you bend over in front of him and balance your weight onto Xeno's shoulders. Stanley moves your underwear to the side to prepare you for him, and Xeno guides you to stroke him; finally, Stanley enters you, and you press your forehead against Xeno while gripping his cock tighter in your hand, making him choke out a groan. He guides the three of you to a steady pace. He leans over your back and keeps one hand on your hip, and the other finds Xeno's face to kiss him; you whine at the odd angle, and he picks up the pace.

"Close.." You mumble to them, and they respond in turn. Xeno wraps his hand around the one you have on him, and Stanley rubs your clit; the three of you finish together and collapse onto the ground. Stanley flips you all, so you are lying on his chest and not crushing Xeno. He sighed in appreciation; you unchained Xeno, sat up to unbuckle him, and unbuttoned his shirt. You lay loud kisses all over his neck, and Stanley chuckles at you while Xeno smiles, holding your waist. You move back to sit between them, and they stay lying on the ground, watching you fix them and make them comfortable, relaxing and enjoying the afterglow.

"I missed you."

"We missed you too."

[girl-lostconnection]

This one is for my manicure-loving people, I’m with you✊

Warnings: König x gn!Reader, fluff

König with partner that loves painting their nails — shiny and colourful, everchanging and absolutely mesmerising. Your nails looking like little gemstones whenever he sees them.

The array of charms and glitters and stickers on your desk because “it feels therapeutical”, you explain to him.

“Makes me feel pretty”, you say to him once and he hums, silently watching how you paint another nail. From thumb to your pinky, coat by coat, blowing air on polish or sticking fingers under the lamp until it’s solid and won’t smudge.

König that watches which polishes you use and buys some when he wants to see you all giddy and excited.

König, who sits like a huge very pleased cat as you show him off your pretty nails with the polish he bought you.

Polish, you liked.

“Made you feel pretty, ja?”, he hums, corners of his lips turning upwards as he tilts his head to his right shoulder. He’s sitting on the floor, leaning his side on the couch while you admire the way light catches in your fresh manicure.

He likes seeing you happy, Edelstein. He likes being the reason you are happy. That’s all he wants really.

König who at some point makes a parallel to the way he takes care of his sniper rifle and the way you take care of your hands.

All your lotions and cuticle oil and careful filing and shaping.

All this gentle care and meticulous maintenance.

All these routines and calming effect it has.

Not so different, ja?

You smile when he mentions it once and offer him to sit in with you and clean his rifle while you paint your nails. Little bonding time for you two.

Just something you can do in comfortable silence.

König is hesitant at first but decides to try.

König loves it.

There is something comforting in doing his favourite task with his favourite person and no pressure of conversation.

No one expects him to make small talk, you both are doing something and yet, you are together.

It’s really nice. It becomes part of his unwinding routine when he comes home from deployments.

König with partner that takes a really good care of their hands. Massages them and uses creams and lotions and is very thorough with it. Very methodical.

He loves sitting in on your routines. Loves watching them. Loves the sweet smell your lotions have, loves how soft your hands are — pads of your fingers feeling heavenly on his face.

König who melts when you offer massage to his hands. He’s a little nervous but he’s so curious to see how it feels for himself because you always seem to enjoy it so much.

And then you are working on him: massaging his wrists, palms, hands — finger by finger — knuckle by knuckle.

It’s new and it’s so good, he actually spaces out for a minute or two, humming under his breath, eyes half-lidded and distant.

This is nice. He could get used to this.

König that nuzzles in your palms and just rubs his nose on your wrist, whispers “Vielen Dank, meine Sonne“.

He is quiet but in a good way.

Comfortable and relaxed in the quiet of your home. You still smell of your lotions and at this point that’s how you smell to him.

That’s how home smells to him.

[jane-newby]

Why I love Caitlyn Kiramman (S1 & 2)

Decided to write this just because... and well I've seen a few "why I hate Arcane Cait" so I am writing why I think she's awesome.

1. I am a sucker for misfit characters. When Cait meets Jayce in the rain and solidifies their relationship by admitting she's a misfit too, my heart was sold. Of course, many of the Arcane characters are misfits, but Cait because of her birth into high society runs against many of the expectations and beliefs of her station. She gives off Sherlock vibes when it comes to social interactions and her skill of deductions/sleuthing.

2. She's an excellent shot. There is something about a girl with a great aim that I love (Hunger Games Katniss is the first that comes to mind). My favorite shooting scenes are from S2 in the Jinx/Sevika skirmish and the final battle when she takes on a sniper role.

3. Noxian training montage. After being kidnapped, knocked out and almost choked out, it was about time Cait learned hand to hand to combat. While I would have loved a longer scene it was nice to see 60 seconds of her Mulan-esque training session.

4. Badass Disney princess/prince vibes. She had a heart of gold and was in the pursuit of justice and truth ever since her Season 1 convo with Grayson ("What are you shooting for young Kiramman?") Cait spends most of Season 1 defending or attempting to save others (i.e. Jayce, Vi, the people of Zaun). She is willing to listen when she is in the wrong (aka conversation with Ekko and the Firelights) or understand the experiences of those she knows little about.

5. Cait and Vi’s Slow Burn Romance. “Will they won’t they.” A Romeo & Juliet aka other side of the tracks romance. Opposites Attract. Again I am a complete sucker for this romance trope. Step Up. Mulan. The 100. She-Ra. Miles Morales and Gwen (Please never compare Jinx and Ekko just because the ethnics match. They are not the same.) You give me two unlikely characters who go through the ups and downs of life and then finally consummate that relationship. I am down HARD. I like the tension. The tennis match of love and hate until they finally figure out they are meant for each other. Cait and Vi could have made love in a tree and I still would have happily rewatched because their love was multiple little scenes of looks, nicknames, rescues, fights, a kiss, and “I am down bad,” shower scene. What’s not to like?

6. Cait’s Character Development. From the fires of tragedy, a naive, eager, idealistic, bright eyed Young Kiramman princess develops into an older, wiser, humble leader. 

To me, her arc is about the passage into adulthood. An examination of that age old question “What does it mean to be human?” As the years pass, Cait clung to Grayson’s words–essentially her why, her purpose. But what happens when that purpose is challenged or marred by reality, by pain, anger? 

Cait’s purpose is immediately challenged when she finds out the Enforcer sheriff is corrupt and almost kills her in order to hide his sins. While it’s clear, there is no love between the two, Marcus’s corruption and her confrontation with Ekko challenge her belief in a system she joined in her pursuit of justice. Immediately, after, she attempts to broker an agreement that will help Zaunites but the Council selfishly rejects her proposal. You know the rest of the story.

Hours later she is kidnapped, tortured by the sister of her crush. Then the same sister drops a bomb killing not only people she knew, but her mom. Then at the memorial, another attack occurs presumably from the same sister–Jinx. The Council is eager to annihilate Zaun, but Cait attempts to be a voice of reason while grieving. Then when she has a chance to kill Jinx she fails and pushes/hits her girlfriend away. She loses her brother, and the only council member who notices she’s struggling. Her father is MIA. A known genocidal general begins to manipulate her. 

In a matter of months, Cait’s purpose is crushed by tragedy and a need for revenge. In season 1, Silco states, “There’s a monster inside all of us.” Cait’s monster rears its ugly head as she dawns the evil cloak, broods in dark rooms (thank you ep 4 beginning montage) and embraces oppressive tactics to fulfill her new objective. Cait’s conflict is not just an external manifestation but an internal one. Will she let bitterness take over or will she stick to her values of justice, truth, and kindness? We know that she has not fully embraced Ambessa’s ideologies, as she is constantly questioning Ambessa directives. Her conversations with Singed and her decision to spy on Singed’s actions also show that internal war. Ultimately, it is the decision to help Vi and betray Ambessa that led back to Cait’s core. She didn’t need to make a Youtube apology video. She chose through her actions to get back to a new, healed version of her purpose. Her last words in S2  “Are you still in this fight?” are a reflection of Cait’s own journey–to rise from tragedy and her own mistakes to make a difference even when pain, challenges, evil can make the journey seem impossible. 

Cait said it best in Season 2’s final memorial, Our only consolation for every loss we found some good, some light, worth gaining, worth fighting for. And though we are doomed to revisit the error of our ways, spark ever more conflicts, our story isn’t over.

And this is why I love Cait because of what she represents. A strong female character with quirks. A sense of justice. Love. A closet full of demons. Transformation. Humanity. And Badass shooting skills.

[multiheadcanons]

CUDDLING WITH THE BLU TEAM

scout: casual cuddler. he, personally, doesn’t think much of throwing an arm around his teammates, or reaching out and yanking his teammates back by the collar of their shirts, or sitting in their laps when there’s no more seats and he doesn’t want to sit on the floor. despite his thin frame, he can catch his teammates with a 90% success rate, even heavy! does it take literally every ounce of his physical strength? yes. does it make him feel good to know that his team knows that they can rely on him to catch them, usually? also yes! fuels him on arm day.

soldier: more of a side-hugger, less of a cuddler. brings you in via a hand around your neck for a variety of things. a private conversation in the middle of the room, the creation of a master plan, being within six inches of soldier’s face is normally grounds for concern, because whatever he’s about to pull you into is usually concerning. but you can always give it a go and see how it pans out this time!

pyro: big fan of cuddling! hand holding, cuddling, hugging, nuzzles, pyro will not refuse any form of physical affection or intimacy. they quite enjoy it! and it’s nice to know that the mask isn’t enough to scare off people. scare off too many people. also a casual cuddler. hands around shoulders, around waists, on hips, if you’ve got pockets their hands are in there. they might risk copping a feel if they’re confident enough. they’re much more likely to steal your wallet.

demo: full body draper. he really only craves physical touch like this when he’s sad. and he just leans on people, with this hit dog look on his face. you wouldn’t… want to say no. he already looks so sad. no talking occurs, just sad sighs and silence. if you sit there for a couple hours he’ll start feeling better and leave you be. won’t refuse however you decide to reciprocate, though he will be sadder if you deny him.

heavy: heavy is only cuddly if he thinks it’s going to get him what he wants. a lazy arm draped around your shoulder so he can pull you in and quietly make his request in your ear. it’s hard to say no to the man, for any reason, so he can normally get his way with this tactic. the eye contact is strong but he will never turn to face you fully. he’ll mumble a thanks in your ear and ruffle your hair and leave you be until you accomplish what has been asked of you.

engineer: engie is not very touchy in public, but when you’re alone, or laying in bed together, he is much more willing and happy to hold you. he will always be the big spoon. wraps himself around you, buries his head in your neck, and breathes deeply. hand splayed over your chest so he can feel your heartbeat. it’s relaxing to him. like white noise. it helps him fall asleep. makes sure a leg is wrapped around your waist.

medic: the doctor doesn’t cuddle. but what he will do is come sit next to you and put his feet in your lap. boots on. the two of you alone is enough to take up an entire sofa. he won’t get closer to actually cuddle. you can have his feet and he’s going to take the rest of the couch. you can even play with his feet, but if you try to take his boots off he’s going to get weirded out. they’re fun to tap on, though. eventually the doctor will just fall asleep on you. you can move him off of you with a 60% success rate of not waking him up. he asks where you’re going, and to return quickly if you do wake him. he can’t sleep properly like this.

sniper: are you ready to become an amalgamation of pieces, parts, and limbs? cuddling with snipes is becoming a human monkey’s paw. legs interlocked together at the knee, hands tangled in each other’s hair, sleep on its way if it hasn’t already arrived. snipes doesn’t care how hot or cold it is in the van, or the base, he will never deny an opportunity to hold or be held.

spy: spy pretends he doesn’t like to cuddle… he absolutely loves to cuddle. legs strewn across bodies, leaning on one another while walking, hands in each others pockets and fingers intertwined, he’s absolutely sickening with it. likes to play in your hair. a rainy day cuddle is like methanphetamine to him. oh, you don’t have an umbrella? he does! you need a raincoat? no! get under the umbrella! come stand next to him. there’s plenty of space under there for you.

[scrawlithium]

Lady Nagant x gn reader? 🥺 i see her in your pfp and I think it’d be nice! either story or headcanons is fine

OF COURSE you may!! I love writing for my “wife” and I am so thrilled you asked! This might be a bit later than anticipated but I hope you enjoy love <3

Kaina my beloved…

Lady Nagant & S/O Headcanons

Protective but Subtle: Lady Nagant doesn’t wear her emotions on her sleeve. She’s a woman of few words, but her actions speak volumes. You might not even notice at first, but she always positions herself in a way that keeps you safe. Whether you're out in a crowd or walking down an empty street at night, she naturally takes on a protective role, subtly guiding you to her less vulnerable side, always watching, always vigilant.

Eyes Like a Hawk: Her sharp senses make her hyper-aware of everything around you. She notices little things before you do—if you’re shivering, if you're distracted, or if someone nearby seems suspicious. She’ll casually drape her jacket over your shoulders or place herself between you and potential danger without even thinking about it. Her protective instincts are second nature.

Walls Up, Slowly Breaking Down: Trust doesn’t come easily to her, and you respect that. She’s been through things she rarely speaks of, so she guards herself fiercely. But over time, as you offer her unspoken patience and kindness, she starts letting you in. The first time she tells you something personal about her past, she watches you carefully, gauging your reaction. When you accept her without judgment, she relaxes, even if just a little.

Late-Night Conversations: It’s often during the quietest hours that she opens up the most. In the stillness of the night, she feels safe enough to talk, her voice barely above a whisper. You’ll find her telling you about missions she regrets, decisions that still haunt her, and dreams that feel distant. You listen, offering a comforting presence that doesn’t ask for more than she’s willing to share.

Soft Smiles Reserved for You: Lady Nagant isn’t someone who smiles often, but with you, it’s different. You catch those rare, soft smiles that make her seem a little less like the stoic sniper and more like the woman behind the mask. Sometimes, you’ll crack a joke or make a silly face just to coax a grin out of her, and it’s always worth it when you succeed.

Physical Affection Takes Time: She’s not used to being touched, at least not in a gentle way. The first time you reach for her hand, she hesitates, looking at you with a flicker of vulnerability. But once she’s comfortable, you find her fingers brushing against yours more often, her hand lingering a second longer than necessary. Little touches mean a lot to her, even if they seem casual to anyone else.

Acts of Service: Lady Nagant isn’t big on grand romantic gestures, but she’s constantly doing little things for you. She fixes anything that’s broken, always keeps an eye on your surroundings, and even teaches you a few self-defense techniques “just in case.” You know it’s her way of showing she cares, even if she’d never say it outright.

Training Together: She insists on teaching you how to protect yourself. It starts as a practical lesson, but it becomes something you both enjoy. She’s patient and encouraging, guiding your hands into proper stances and showing you how to defend yourself with calm precision. Sometimes, she’ll tease you lightly if you miss a step, her eyes softening as you laugh and try again.

Quiet Affection: She’s not someone who’ll shower you with words of love, but she’ll do things that say more than words ever could. You’ll find her leaving little notes reminding you to stay safe, or she’ll quietly place things she knows you need where you’ll see them. Her love language is all about the small things—things that make you feel seen and cared for.

A Shoulder to Lean On (Literally): When she’s exhausted from a mission, she lets herself rest with you. She’ll sit beside you and let her guard down, resting her head on your shoulder or letting you hold her hand. In these moments, she feels like a weight has been lifted, even if just for a little while. With you, she doesn’t have to be the strong, unbreakable hero.

Watching the Stars: Sometimes, you’ll find her gazing up at the sky, lost in thought. She invites you to join her, and you sit together in comfortable silence, watching the stars. It’s a simple act, but it means a lot. In these quiet moments, she’s reminded of the beauty in the world and why she keeps going.

Conflicted About Her Past: You can tell she struggles with guilt and regret over her past actions. Sometimes, it hits her hard, and she distances herself, afraid of letting her darkness touch you. But you’re patient, reminding her that everyone has shadows and that she deserves a second chance. Your reassurance is like an anchor, pulling her back when she feels lost.

Gentle Moments of Comfort: Lady Nagant isn’t great with words when it comes to comforting others, but she does her best. If she sees you upset, she’ll sit beside you, her hand finding yours, squeezing gently. She might not say much, but her presence is solid, grounding you in a way only she can.

Mutual Respect and Admiration: She admires your kindness, your patience, and your strength, even if she doesn’t say it outright. You can feel her respect in the way she listens to you, values your opinions, and remembers the little things you say. She’s always been a lone wolf, but with you, she realizes that trusting someone else can make her stronger, not weaker.

Hidden Playfulness: Despite her serious demeanor, she has a quiet playfulness that only comes out with you. Maybe she’ll tease you about your aim or poke fun at you during training. The playful glint in her eyes catches you off guard, but it’s a side of her you adore and encourage every chance you get.

An Anchor in the Chaos: She’s constantly on edge, always anticipating the next mission or the next threat. But with you, she finds a sense of peace she hasn’t known in years. When she’s with you, the world feels a little less dangerous, and she can let herself relax, even if only for a moment. You’re her safe place, the one constant in her otherwise chaotic life.

Fear of Losing You: She’d never admit it, but the thought of losing you terrifies her. She’s lost so much, and sometimes, she wonders if she’s even worthy of the happiness she finds with you. But whenever you reassure her, whether it’s with words, a gentle touch, or a lingering look, she finds herself clinging to hope a little more.

A Soft Goodbye: Every time she has to leave for a mission, there’s a quiet sadness in her eyes. She never says much, just a simple “Stay safe” or “I’ll be back soon,” but you both know the weight behind it. She doesn’t make promises she can’t keep, but there’s an unspoken vow between you—a promise to return, to find each other again, no matter what.

[grandline-fics]

Hello 😊

For your Valentine event can I ask you Chocolate-covered Strawberries with Hongo?

Thank you and have a nice day 💕

DESCRIPTION: Chocolate-Covered Strawberries- Unable to resist temptation anymore, they act

WARNINGS: none

CHARACTERS: Hongo

WORDS: 1,296

A/N: I'm starting to feel like I'm getting sick again and who better to write for than a Doctor. This is my first time writing for Hongo but here's hoping it was a good enough job and it's to your liking @akagami-no-laney! Thank you for requesting this one for the Valentines Event. Enjoy

*REQUESTS ARE OPEN*

DIRECTORY | PROMPT LIST | KO-FI | VALENTINES EVENT MASTERLIST

———————

“Careful Hongo, if you keep getting distracted and don’t focus you’re going to get injured. If that happens we’re going to be down a Doctor.” Hongo snapped his gaze to see Yasopp grinning at him wickedly. Nothing ever could escape the sniper’s gaze but still Hongo was quick to turn around and face the other man, becoming the picture of calm and ease. 

“Naw, you’re exaggerating, I wasn’t distracted.” He lightly protested with a relaxed wave of his hand. When Yasopp folded his arms loosely and smirked, Hongo doubled down. “I wasn’t! I still knew what was going on around me.”

“Uh-huh and you just chose to ignore me for the fifteen minutes I was standing next to you because you were so focused on not getting distracted?” Hongo struggled to come up with an answer for that and before he could say anything in response he heard you call Shanks’ name from across the deck. Immediately he looked your way again. 

At Shanks’ appearance you got up from your spot at the table and approached the Captain with that smile of yours that always left Hongo speechless and awestruck. He couldn’t pull his gaze from you, watching as you spoke with Shanks, showing him something in an old but well looked after book. As you talked you stepped closer to your Captain, your finger lightly indicating to something specific on the page for him to look at intently. Shanks in turn leant down, his dark eyes firmly on the pages in front of him. “God I wish that was me.”

“Well say no more!” Hongo flinched suddenly when Yasopp threw his arms around the Doctor and held him close with a grin. Once again he’d forgotten the sniper was standing beside him and now was shoving him away from his pretend attempts to cuddle into him and kiss at his face. “Stop playing hard to get Hongo, you know we’re meant to be!”

“I know my foot’s meant to be up your ass if you don’t quit it!” Hongo laughed managing to finally push his friend’s face away from his own only to look once more when he heard your laughter fill the air and froze to see you grinning at his and Yasopp’s antics.

“Aren't they a cute couple?” Shanks grinned at you, no longer standing as close as he had been now that your conversation was over. “I was always rooting for them to get together.”

“Really? My money’s always been on Yasopp and Benn, that’s where the real spark is.” You teased, laughing when Yasopp leapt off of Hongo and ran off, calling for the vice-captain in an overly dramatic and swooning voice. Glad to finally have the weight off of him, Hongo rubbed his neck and laughed softly, watching you approach while Shanks disappeared to talk to Building Snake about the island they were coming to.

“Now I’m curious.” Hongo began with a grin. “Who’s your money on for me to get with?”

“Help me out and I'll tell you.”

A couple hours later, Hongo found himself walking through the densely forested terrain with you. In the book you'd shown Shanks on the ship you were telling him of an incredibly rare plant that grew in an environment like the one you were approaching. Not only had it uses for medicines and poisons but it could also be used for cooking, perfumes, dyes and ink. A single flower sold for a small fortune, it was a treasure on its own. Shanks was interested and had memorised its image, promising to be on the lookout for it too. When you explained to Hongo what you wanted to find, he knew the plant immediately, wanting to take one for himself for the medicines if he could find it. When the ship docked everyone split off into their own groups and pairs with their own tasks assigned, you grabbed Hongo’s wrist and pulled him to be your partner this time.    

The two of you spoke through your walking, joking and talking with complete ease that only came from an absolute bond of friendship and trust. Even with Hongo’s feelings for you, he didn’t feel nervous but he did keep reminding himself to focus instead of constantly getting lost in your charm and warmth. Over and over since he realised his feelings for you were turning into something romantic he always talked himself out of acting on it. He told himself it’d pass, that you weren’t interested in him that way, it’d be weird since he was the ship’s doctor. 

“Hongo look!” You suddenly broke off in the middle of your conversation to point out the plant you’d been searching for. There were a few great specimens for you and Hongo to admire and eye up. While he began to carefully cut the strongest looking to take back to the ship you first took a small container from your pocket and gathered some of the dirt the plant had grown from before setting about harvesting some of the seeds. He watched you with a small smile. “You’re going to grow this?”

“It’ll take time but think how great it’ll be to have this plant always on board.” You explained brightly, looking away to smile up at Hongo. “I know you’ll discover and make a lot from the plants you’ve taken now but at least this way you’ll always have a steady supply.”

Hongo smiled back at you. You were a godsend to have on board, ever since you joined and used your skills as a botanist, his stock of medical plants and herbs never seemed to drop. Just as he was about to thank you, you reached out to brace your hand against the tree to get back to your feet only to suppress a curse when pain shot unexpectedly through your finger. 

Immediately Hongo switched into his role as doctor and helped you sit on a tree stump and crouched down to get a good look at your hand. With so many plants growing, he had to be sure that what had hurt you wasn't poisonous. Seeing no symptoms arise he sighed in relief to see the painful looking splinter embedded in your finger. Definitely painful and unpleasant but at least it was the easiest wound to treat. You stayed still and watched Hongo treat you with silent, gentle care that you’d come to expect. “What’s the prognosis?” You asked with playful teasing in your tone, barely feeling anything as he removed the splinter. “Complete amputation? Blood transfusion?”

“Nothing so serious, thankfully. Your hands are-” Hongo began with a laugh, lifting his head to look at you only to stop mid-sentence to see you’d leant in closer than he’d realised and his nose had all but skimmed yours. This close he found himself getting lost harder and faster in your stare. Was your gaze always this hypnotic? “um…they’re perfect as usual.”

His gaze flickered to your lips when they curved in amusement and Hongo felt his rational arguments begin to grow duller in his mind. Would it hurt to make a move? You hadn't moved back yet, which gave him hope. He never considered himself a coward so he decided not to start now. “Would kissing it better help?”  

“I’ll trust your judgement, Doctor.” You urged him softly, immediately smiling when he closed the unbearably small distance to finally press his lips against yours. Starting soft and slow at first, Hongo quickly pulled you headlong into a deeper and more commanding kiss. All you could think of in that moment was that even though you’d been betting with yourself, you’d been right to put your money on you and Hongo getting together and that it was definitely worth the wait. 

——————————————-

TAG LIST (If I’ve missed anyone or if you want to be added just let me know) @3v37773, @tsaaps , @i-am-all-love-puns-and-lazy , @fiery-captain-spider-santa, @kabloswrld , @atanukileaf , @ane5e , @stuckinthewrongworld , @cloudysunset04 , @chillerkiller , @extremely-ashtridic , @decayingpizza , @liesatemyocean , @ace-for-ace , @nerium-lil , @destynelseclipsa , @dreamcastgirl99 , @my-name-is-heartache , @iamn1ya ,  @yunho-leeknow , @hinata7346 , @h0oouwlss , @missrandomdreamer , @sleepykittycx , @ddawn111 , @jaygrl22 , @sylum , @acehyacinth , @resident-cryptid , @treelogirl , @maellem , @thulhu , @appalost , @dindjarins1ut , @irumawife , @laidenbreecatchall , @redwolfxx , @jevoislesbrasdemer , @schanwow , @pao198391 , @glitchtricks94 , @nina-ya , @48daisies , @sagyunaro , @artemis162534 , @rosemary-lungs , @thecraftywriter , @rorozorolover , @yagirlsmuchelle , @engenemoazen , @sukunasstomachtongue , @nico-ith

[prettyboypistol]

how do you think would mercs react to reader calling them pet names in his native language that is not english obviously 👀 might be sfw or nsfw, whatever you like more ❤️

TF2 Mercs Reacting To Native Language Pet Names!

Scout

Gets like, REALLY flustered initially. A "Uh, what did you call me?" then "O-oh. Nice! Nice!... Haha okaaaaay! Great!"

Man starts mimicking you and your accent subconsciously (ADHD echoing go brrr) and likes stimming by rolling his rs and doing the special sounds your language does that are different from English.

Soldier

"YOU MAGGOTS HEAR THAT! CUPCAKE HERE THINKS I'M A COWZONE!" "I SAID CORASON!" "MEDIC! HE'S HALLUCINATING! HE THINKS I'M FOOD!"

After you explain it, he gets all giddy and lovey dovey on you, he's got a thing for you talking in your first language.

Pyro

Deadass? I headcanon Pyro to be a polygot. They know what you're saying regardless of what language you speak.

When they hear the petname you shout as good luck, they turn around and make a heart with their fingers and shout something back. It sounded vaguely like your language..?

Demoman

Will hit you with a scottish one right back, it becomes a war of the pet names until you both end up cuddled tightly in each other's arms and on the brink of sleep as you murmur out little sweet nothings.

Has no idea what you're saying but can understand it's affectionate because of the context.

Engie

"What's that, darling? Didn't quite catch that." You say it in English. "Oh! Well ain't you sweet! C'mere hun."

Not as flusterable on the outside, but internally freaking the fuck out because that was SO CUTE!!!

Heavy

Maaaaan. RIP you. This dude's barely got a grasp on English, that could be your only language and this would still work.

If you explain it to him, then he gets all smiley with you and kisses your cheek.

Medic

"Ah, danke liebe." "No problem, cher." "Oh! You speak another language? Amazing! I know that one- wait, do I? Let's see... German, Latin, English..."

Finds it absolutely adorable. If he doesn't know the language he asks you to teach him so you two can gossip together behind people's backs.

Spy

THE RESIDENT POLYGOT. LIKE, HEADCANONED TO BE HIRED ON TO BRIDGE THE LANGUAGE BARRIER LEVELS OF LANGUAGE KNOWLEDGE.

Imma be real it doesn't even register that you spoke in something other than English, but he instinctually switched to your language mid conversation more out of habit than anything.

Sniper

"Awe, using that first-language charm on me, eh? Well that's not gonna let you use me rifle. Sorry chickadee."

Sees it as more of a teasing to try (and failing) to fluster him or get what you want.

[eaturheartout2021]

“Loaded Silence”

Part one

Pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x female!reader

Word count: ~2,500

Tags: emotional intimacy, team dynamics, unresolved tension, trust-building, mutual pining, protective Ghost, subtle jealousy, soft moments in hard places

⸻

You didn’t talk about it.

Not the conversation in the shed. Not the way he sat close enough to feel the heat from your arm. Not the way your breath caught when he leaned in and asked if you wanted him to back off.

You just went back to work.

Except now—everything had changed.

The tension between you had gone from bristling to electric. Still quiet. Still sharp. But now it had weight. Now it meant something.

He looked at you differently. Not softer, exactly—but more direct. Less guarded. You noticed it in the way his eyes followed you across the room during briefings. In the way his voice dropped when he said your name. In the way he stood just a little too close sometimes—like he was reminding you he was there, even when he wasn’t speaking.

You still didn’t talk much.

But the way you didn’t talk had changed.

He offered you half his rations during a long op when you missed your chance to eat. You bumped your shoulder against his once when Soap got too nosy about your “little shed adventure.”

Little things. Barely visible.

But in this world, little things meant everything.

—

Three weeks later, you were deployed to a crumbling city block outside Warsaw—sniper overwatch, four-man team, low visibility, high tension. Ghost had the ground sweep with Soap. You and Gaz took elevation.

It should’ve been routine.

But you learned quickly that nothing about Ghost was ever just routine.

“Clear on east side,” Gaz whispered through comms. “Moving to next perch.”

You shifted in position, eyes on the alley below. Movement caught your attention—fast, wrong angle. Not Soap.

“Contact. North alley,” you murmured.

“Visual confirmed,” Ghost’s voice cut in, low and sure. “I see two.”

“Three,” you corrected. “Behind the bin—movement, shadow.”

“Copy. I’ll sweep in.”

He was already gone before you could argue.

You followed him through your scope, jaw tight. His movements were efficient—like smoke, like muscle memory—but your heart still slammed against your ribs when he vanished behind the wall.

“Soap, you have eyes?” you asked.

“Negative, I’m pinned two streets over.”

You swore under your breath.

“Gaz,” you said, already on your feet, rifle in hand. “Cover me.”

“I thought you two were playing nice now,” he teased, even as he adjusted position.

You didn’t answer.

Didn’t explain why your stomach twisted every second Ghost was out of view. Why your boots hit the ground harder than they needed to. Why you were already sprinting through side streets before backup was in place.

You found them in the alley—Ghost and three hostiles.

Two already down.

The last one? He had Ghost against the wall, knife out, going for the exposed space between plates.

You didn’t hesitate.

One shot.

Center mass.

The hostile dropped like a sack of stone.

Ghost exhaled, low and tight. Blood smeared down the side of his vest.

You reached him in seconds.

“You good?” you asked, already reaching for your med pack.

“I’ve had worse.”

“That’s not an answer.”

He let you check him anyway, standing still while you pressed gauze to the shallow slash on his side. You worked fast, hands practiced, face unreadable.

“You didn’t have to come down here,” he said, voice low.

“I know.”

“You were supposed to stay with Gaz.”

“I know, Ghost.”

He fell silent, but the way he looked at you made your chest feel tight.

“I’m not made of glass,” he muttered.

“No,” you said. “You’re made of bad decisions and half-healed trauma. Hold still.”

That earned you the ghost of a smile. Barely there. But it was real.

You didn’t want to admit what it did to you.

—

The next night back at base, Soap cornered you in the rec room.

“You and Ghost,” he said, casually tossing a stress ball between his hands. “You’ve been different lately.”

You glanced up from your book. “We’re not trying to kill each other. That’s different, yeah.”

He squinted. “Nah, it’s more than that.”

“Drop it, Johnny.”

He grinned. “I would, but Gaz owes me fifty quid.”

You stared at him.

“I bet it’d be him to crack first,” Soap said proudly. “Figured he’d break and apologize. Gaz bet it’d be you.”

You rolled your eyes. “You two are children.”

“Maybe. But I’m richer than Gaz now.”

You stood, brushing past him, heading toward the hall.

Soap followed, still grinning.

“He’s not a bad bloke, you know,” he said, voice suddenly more genuine. “Quiet. But loyal as hell. Not the easiest to love, but… he doesn’t pretend to be something he’s not.”

You paused at the door.

“I never said I wanted that from him.”

“Didn’t have to.”

—

Later, Ghost found you outside.

You sat on the edge of the low wall behind the barracks, staring out at the moonlight stretching over the compound. Your coat was wrapped around your shoulders. The wind cut cold across your cheeks.

He didn’t say anything at first. Just stood beside you, silent, like he was waiting to be invited.

You didn’t look at him. Just said quietly, “You should’ve waited for backup in Warsaw.”

“I didn’t have time.”

“You could’ve died.”

“You didn’t let me.”

You turned to him. His mask was off—just the balaclava tonight. You could see his eyes. Could feel the weight of them on your face.

“You’re not reckless,” you said. “So why take the risk?”

“Because I knew,” he said simply. “That you’d come for me.”

Your breath caught.

He sat beside you, slow and deliberate, close enough for your knees to brush.

“I’ve been doing this a long time,” he said, voice quieter than usual. “Lost a lot of people. Trusted the wrong ones. Pushed away the right ones. I don’t let people in easy.”

You swallowed. “Me either.”

He looked at you.

And then, softly: “But I want to let you in.”

The words were simple. Not poetic. Not dressed up.

But they hit harder than any mission blow.

“I don’t want easy,” you said.

“I know.”

“I don’t want soft either.”

He smirked. “Good. I’m a bastard most days.”

You smiled—small, but real.

“But I want real,” you said. “And I want someone who sees me when I’m quiet. When I’m not trying to be anything but who I am.”

“I already do.”

The air stilled between you.

Not tense.

Not loaded.

Just open.

And then, finally—he reached out.

His fingers brushed yours. Not a grab. Not a claim.

An ask.

You curled yours around his in answer.

—

The team noticed the next day.

Not because you were touchy. Not because you made a show of anything.

But because something had shifted again.

The silence between you wasn’t avoidance anymore. It was shared space. Comfortable. Tethered.

You moved in tandem during ops.

You matched each other’s pace.

You anticipated each other’s words—without needing to say them.

It was Gaz who pointed it out, leaning on a Humvee with a smug grin while you and Ghost reviewed the new satellite maps.

“Christ,” he muttered to Soap. “They’re in sync now.”

Soap nodded. “Yeah. It’s gross.”

Price looked up from his clipboard. “What’s gross?”

“They’re finishing each other’s—”

“Don’t,” Price warned.

“—sentences.”

The captain sighed. “God help me.”

But no one said anything to you.

They didn’t have to.

—

That night, you sat on Ghost’s bunk.

Not on purpose. It was the only spot open during a chaotic debrief, and you were too tired to care.

But he didn’t make you move.

Just sat beside you, thigh brushing yours, silent and steady.

You didn’t talk much.

But when the meeting ended and the others filtered out, he stayed.

And so did you.

“I don’t know what this is yet,” you admitted. “And I’m not great at… feelings.”

“Neither am I.”

“But I think I want to find out.”

He nodded. “Together?”

You looked at him.

At the man behind the mask.

And said, “Yeah.”

He didn’t smile.

Not fully.

But his hand found yours again.

And this time, you didn’t let go.

I have a feeling that this is going to be more than just a few parts… cause I’m in LOVE with this already. Slow burns are my fav. If you have any requests please feel free to send them my way and I’ll get to work on them asap❤️