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writeonwhiskey · 10 months

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the skz house: ch 1

Summary: Welcome to Sigma Kappa Zeta, the most popular fraternity on campus. When you, down on your luck and looking for a place to live, see their ad for ‘IN-HOUSE STAY’, you decide to check it out.

Chapter One: Of Breakups and New Housing

You’re sitting on the curb next to several suitcases and trash bags full of your belongings, feeling humiliated as cars pass by. You can’t fucking believe you thought it would be a good idea to rent an off campus apartment with your boyfriend—well, now ex-boyfriend, of three years. It’s not even a full two months into the semester and you both already decided to call it quits. Things had been rocky over the summer to begin with, but you hoped living together would fix it.

You were wrong. And stupid for letting him put only his name on the lease.

So what are you gonna do now? You can’t call your parents, they told you this was a bad idea from the start. You can’t give them the satisfaction of knowing they were right. Your friends are all in the dorms and, sure, you can crash with them for a couple nights but you need to find something for the remainder of the year.

You take out your phone, wiping the tears that fall from your eyes as you start looking for somewhere to live. A one bedroom apartment by yourself is completely out of the monthly budget your parents send. You’ll have to settle on a room or some sort of shared living environment.

Your scrolling stops when you see a post that says ‘FREE IN-HOUSE STAY’. You click on it to read more.

FREE IN-HOUSE STAY

It’s that time of year again. The members of Sigma Kappa Zeta (SKZ) have beds to fill. Stay will be free of charge, however there are stipulations. Further details will be provided in person. Send a direct message if you’re interested and we will provide the interview date.

You’ve heard of the SKZ fraternity in passing, but never participated much in Greek life on campus. The post feels a little sketchy, if you’re being honest with yourself, but you send the email anyways. If you can pocket the money your parents are sending and stay somewhere for free, maybe you can turn this shitty situation around in your favor.

You receive an email the following day that advises you to fill out an NDA and an application complete with a picture of yourself. You also go to a nearby clinic to complete a drug test and various other checks. Your interest in the ad is piqued, but the night spent on the floor of your friends dorm encourages you to pursue it.

Two days later you find yourself standing outside of the SKZ house with ten other women. The house is in a gated community and sits on a pretty large lot, enough room between it and the next that neighbors probably didn’t mind a bunch of college students staying there. It’s a three-story home and not too far from campus, maybe a thirty minute walk.

At 1:00pm the door opens and a tall, kinda lanky boy with a slender face greets you all. His eyebrows and most of his eyes are hidden behind his bangs, but he dons a welcoming smile. He’s wearing jeans and a black shirt with ΣΚΖ written across the chest in green letters.

“Please, come in,” he says, gesturing for you all to enter.

You all huddle in the foyer and he closes the door when the last girl enters before leading you into the living room. There’s a large, navy blue sectional where you all sit. When he exits the room, you fold your hands in your lap and cross your legs, shaking your nerves out through your foot. as you wait for whatever is about to happen.

You hear footsteps coming down the hall and eight men enter the room. If your life were a movie (it most definitely isn’t, you’re sleeping on a floor, remember?), this scene would play out in slow motion. They exude an air of confidence and nonchalance all at the same time. They’re all of similar heights, with hair color ranging from black to blonde, some are lanky, some are muscular—one is flat-out buff, and they’re all Korean. They’re…handsome? The word doesn’t feel like it suffices, though. Each and every one of them are breathtaking in a way that feels completely unfair and makes you question why you’re even there.

They spread out in a line in front of the TV mounted on the wall opposite the sectional. They’re all wearing the same thing—jeans and the black shirt with their fraternity initial across the front.

“Thank you for coming here today, ladies,” one of them starts to speak with a light Australian accent.

As your eyes focus on him, he looks familiar. He’s in one of your classes. He seemed rather quiet and reserved in class, but here he’s easily taking charge and leading the situation. His eyes meet yours for a brief moment and he offers a tight-lipped half-smile and nod.

“I’m Chan,” he continues. “The is Lee Know, Changbin, Hyunjin, Han, Felix, Seungmin and Jeongin.”

Each member waves as he gestures to them and says their name. Seungmin is the one who had opened the door.

“We’re sure you’re curious as to what our post entails…let me explain.” Chan begins. “Here at Sigma Kappa Zeta, we strongly pursue the strongest version of ourselves. We work hard, study hard, and play hard. We want all of our members to be at their best at all times. We cannot achieve the goals and dreams we have if we are weak in any area. Which brings us to having you here today.”

Your eyes dart to the other men standing in the line, but it’s impossible to read their expressions.

“We are looking for four women to reside in our home. Your duties will be cooking and cleaning for the household, and pleasing the members you are assigned to.”

You can only blink as you stare at him. Assigned to? And did he say please the members? Does he mean fuck?

“We believe that with these essential needs met,” he continues without missing a beat. As if he hasn’t just uttered something completely scandalous. “Our members will be free to flourish and earn our spots next to our SKZ predecessors.”

He stops for a moment and steps forward from the others.

“I know how this sounds. Misogynistic. Throughout the many years of this tradition, it has proved to work in our Stays’ favor as well, though. You’ll have your needs met, less stress and many Stays have reported a boost in their overall happiness and confidence.” He says. “We know you are students, too, and we don’t want to impede on your education or your own personal goals. That being said, it’s not a position suitable for everyone, we know that. We also know, that should you choose to participate, you will have an invaluable sense of community throughout your time here. You will have free room and board, and be allowed time to focus on your own success. Any resources we have access to can be yours as well.”

He claps his hands together.

“Now that you know what this entails, please remain seated if you’re still interested. If not, kindly exit—but we would like to remind you of the NDA you signed.”

He pauses for a beat. Two girls stand and promptly exits the home. You stay rooted in your seat. You’re a decent cook. You can clean. You think you could be a good fit for the position. You’ve also been with the same guy since your freshman year, so the prospect of experiencing something new in any capacity intrigues you. And honestly, right now, a free bed sounds more tantalizing than the floor, doesn’t it? You subconsciously roll out the kink in your neck at the thought.

“Eight of you still here,” he says with a nod. “We’ll call each of you up, you’ll introduce yourself, walk past each member, then take your seat. We will then leave to deliberate. When we come back, we’ll let you know which of you are staying and who you’re assigned to.”

You shift around in your seat and nod your head. Chan steps back in line and calls the first name. You watch as each girl walks in front of the men, wondering what’s going through their head—what are they looking for exactly?

When you hear your name called, your heart begins to race. You stand and announce your name, your major, and year in school. You then walk towards Jeongin and slowly make your way to Chan. It’s quick, but not painless. It’s fucking nerve-racking as they each stand there, stone faced.

When all the girls are seated on the couch again, the men exit the room. You’re all quiet as you wait for them to come back. It takes nearly half an hour.

Chan announces the names. The first girl called is assigned to Jeongin and Han. The second is assigned to Felix and Lee Know. The third goes to Seungmin and Changbin.

There are five of you left on the couch. You begin to feel nervous that you may not be chosen, but the next name that falls from Chan’s lips is yours.

Your try your best to hide your surprise as you stand and step forward, hearing that you’re with Chan and Hyunjin.

“Thank you, ladies, for coming today. If you haven’t graduated next year, we welcome you to come back again.” Chan says to the others on the couch before showing them to the door.

When he returns, the eight of them shift around to stand in front of their assignee.

In front of you is Chan. You can’t help but notice the way the sleeves fit tightly around his biceps, and the veins protruding from his arms. Hyunjin is standing next to him—he’s taller than Chan, but a little more thin. His overall presence is softer. You try not to stare too much.

“We’ll give you a tour of the place, show you where you’re staying and then you may retrieve your belongings and return by 5:00pm to prepare dinner. You will cook for whoever you’re assigned to, and get to know each other over dinner.” Chan continues to take charge.

You’re then led on a tour of the house. The first floor has the living room, kitchen, and a bathroom. The kitchen has two separate stoves, a huge pantry and a ton of cabinet space. There’s even an island with bar stools along one side of it. They then take you all down to the basement where there’s a pool table, an old keg, a bar, TV, and beer pong table.

On the second floor is four bedrooms. They tell you who resides on each floor, but do not allow you into the rooms unless it’s someone you’re assigned to. Hyunjin is on the second floor.

He opens the door to the room and you peek inside. You see that there’s a Queen sized bed, dresser, and desk covered in art supplies. Next to his bed is a twin sized bed, bare of any sheets. Is that where you’ll sleep? You wonder.

“The bathroom at the end of the hall on the second floor is strictly for you all to use,” Chan announces as you all make your way up to the next floor.

On the third floor, you’re allowed to see Chan’s room. It’s significantly larger than Hyunjin’s, with it’s own bathroom. He also has a queen bed, nightstands, a dresser and desk. However, the twin sized bed is further from his own, against the opposite wall. It, too, is bare of any sheets.

After the tour, everyone breaks off into groups of whomever their paired with. You’re in the kitchen with Hyunjin and Chan standing on either side of you. You exchange numbers with both of them.

“So you’re majoring in Biology?” Hyunjin speaks to you for the first time.

You nod, unable to find your voice. Still somewhat in shock of what the hell is even happening.

“She’s nervous,” Chan says, easily able to read you.

“Don’t be,” Hyunjin says with softened eyes. “It sounds more intimidating than it really is. This is a mutual thing, okay? We help each other.”

“Okay,” you reply quietly.

“Do something simple for dinner tonight,” Hyunjin continues. “Pasta? With shrimp?”

He looks over to Chan who shrugs and nods in response.

“We’re not as demanding as the others—we won’t be expecting full course meals.”

“You got lucky,” Chan adds.

Got lucky? Did you? Or did you just get yourself into an inexplicable situation? They didn’t mention anything about what should happen if you change your mind. Are you even allowed to? Perhaps you should have read through the NDA a little better. First the lease, now this…you’re not the best with contracts, are you?

Chan produces a credit card from his wallet and hands it to you.

“Return with your things by 5:00pm. You can get groceries and bedding with this. Two twin-sized sets.”

You take the card from him and put it in your pocket.

“We’ll see you soon,” Hyunjin says in a sing-songy voice with a smile.

“See you,” you say lightly and try to return the smile.

You’re still feeling awkward about the entire ordeal, but you’re somewhat at ease at how respectful they all seem. You’re not sure if you’ll be forced to do anything you don’t want to…but as you think about how handsome every single man in the house is…will you eventually want to?

After going to get groceries and bedding (two sets), you get your belongings from your friends dorm then take an Uber back to SKZ house.

You’re a little early, but the door is open. You place your personal things to the side and go to the kitchen to start on dinner. You’re thankful they chose an easy meal, but go the extra mile to make the Alfredo sauce from scratch. It’s one of the few recipes you remember by heart from your mother. You season the shrimp and cook it up with butter and garlic.

The other girls start to arrive and space in the kitchen becomes severely limited, even with two stoves for you all to use. You start to wonder if they’ll all have dinner at the same time every day because that may prove to be quite a challenge. You all move around each other easily enough, but you don’t really say much.

When the food is done and plated, you send Hyunjin and Chan a text that dinner is ready.

They come into the kitchen moments later, grab their plates, then lead you down to the basement for the second time today.

It’s definitely not a fancy or romantic environment. Sitting at a beer pong table and seated on fold out chairs, but you’re not uncomfortable. Nervous as shit. But not uncomfortable.

You wait for them to eat first. They both nod appreciatively after taking their fist bite.

“You must have a lot of questions,” Chan says, twirling pasta around his fork.

“Ask us anything,” Hyunjin prompts.

You’re silent for a moment, chewing your food. You have what feels like a million questions, and want to get the most important one out of the way first.

“Am I gonna be fucking you both?”

Hyunjin coughs on the food he’s eating and Chan let’s out a soft chuckle. He hands Hyunjin his glass of water.

“Well…yes,” is Chan’s blatant reply.

You expect him to say more, but he doesn’t.

“Like…at the same time or is there some sort of schedule or…?” You trail off.

Hyunjin, finally recovered from his coughing fit replies, “It’s really up to the three of us to decide specifics. You’ll be in either of our rooms, on a rotating schedule. We could do every three nights. Monday-Wednesday and Thursday-Saturday? Sunday will be your choice.”

You nod slowly, more in understanding than agreement at this particular moment.

“This tradition works best when it operates like a well oiled machine,” Chan says. “Always be honest with us. Let us know if you aren’t feeling well, if you have your period—anything.”

“There’s actually an app we can all access if you’re uncomfortable telling us, we can use that.” Hyunjin adds.

“And when it comes to cooking and cleaning, you and the other girls can work out whatever kind of schedule works best for all of you.” Chan continues.

The absurdity of the arrangement starts to feel less worrisome as they talk. The situation itself is still quite insane, but they speak about it so casually that it seems normal.

They allow you to pester them with questions as you finish up the meal. They’re all business majors, Hyunjin’s minor is Art and Chan’s is music. They’re all legacies at Sigma Kappa Zeta—meaning their fathers, and grandfathers for some, had been members too. They have all been on a certain career track since they were born to father’s that are successful business owners in Korea and Australia. They each came to the states in high school, studied at a prestigious boarding school and now here they all are, in college, together.

You can’t fathom having your entire life planned out that way. Perhaps it would take out some of the things you stress about regarding your future, though. Clearly, their parents all want what’s best for them.

They explain a few other rules like—you’re not allowed to date or have sex with anyone outside of the members, and that’s a rule everyone in the house follows. Failure to adhere will result in immediate removal from the home.

After you’ve asked all your questions, you all head back up stairs. The others are scattered throughout the house, some at the dinning room table, some in the living room. Through the sliding glass door leading to the backyard, you see a few of them out there too.

“We’ll handle the dishes for tonight,” Hyunjin tells you, taking the plate and glass from your hands.

“Take your things upstairs, make up your bed in each of our rooms. There’s some closet and drawer space in each for you.” Chan says.

“Where am I sleeping tonight?” You ask.

“It's Sunday. Your choice,” replies Hyunjin. “Don’t make a big deal out of it. It’s really just where you’ll sleep. It’s not like you won’t be able to interact with the other person or anyone else in the house based on where you sleep, okay?”

You nod.

They take off towards the kitchen. You retrieve your belongings and head up stairs. In Hyunjin’s room you make the bed with the dark blue bedding set—it’s adorned with different flower types and feels fitting. You recalled seeing the flowers he was painting on his desk when you made this choice. You’re not sure how to divide up your clothing but decide to place a bit of everything in both rooms.

When you make it up to Chan’s room, you put away the rest of your clothes then make up the bed here too. The set you chose for his room is black with teal and purple nebula on it. He has LED lights lining all four walls, near the ceiling. You thought it might look nice when they’re turned on.

After making the bed, you sit down on and allow yourself a break to think.

You now have to decide who's room you’ll be sleeping in tonight.

[ read chapter two here ]

a/n: yeah, this was a random idea that i'm just gonna roll with. no idea where its gonna go yet, but this will be fun to write. have to set the scene with this first chapter, the smut is coming, don't worry :)

#stray kids #stray kids fanfic #stray kids fanfiction #skz fanfic #straykids #bang chan #bang chan imagines #hyunjin #hyunjin fanfic #bangchan fanfic #skz #skz x reader #skz x you #bangchan x you #hyunjin x you #hyunjin imagines #bangchan imagines #bangchan x reader #hyunjin x reader

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poorlywrittenbutentertaining · 3 months

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Consultant

Gibbs x Fem!oc

Warnings: light swearing, canon typical warnings

Summary: sometimes you just need a fresh set of eyes.

Gibbs leaned back in his chair, hands behind his head as he looked over the screens in front of him. He had examined and re-examined the evidence several times and yet he felt stuck. A dead Navy officer whose circumstances and crime scene pointed to murder but death implied natural causes. All roads led to a dead end. Gibbs let out a frustrated sigh and sat up, deciding a coffee would be a good way to clear his mind. He grabbed his coat and threw it over his shoulder as he exited the building. The sun felt refreshing as he walked out of the navy yard, flashing security his badge and ID as he passed.

The streets were surprisingly quiet for noon, but he couldn’t argue. After years living alone he’d come to appreciate quiet. A brief walk later and he stepped into his favorite coffee shop, the one he frequented often enough that the entire staff had memorized his order. Not that it was difficult, large black coffee, Jamaican blend. The barista behind the counter simply nodded and him and rang up the coffee as Gibbs provided his card to pay.

The bell over the door chimed behind him as a voice flooded through the small shop, “-Well I know that, but he’s not stable enough. His wound is volatile enough as is, if he leaves the hospital the risk of infection is too high… don’t tell me that, tell him that!… ugh, push 100 Ml.s until I get back and can handle this myself. Don’t let him out of your sight.” Gibbs peeked over his shoulder to see a somewhat familiar face, however she looked disgruntled and minutely irritated. He stepped out of the way as he listened to her order. Her drink order was complex and (he assumed) would be very very sweet by the end.

“Lotta sugar for a doctor to be drinking,” Gibbs said casually. The girl looked over at him and he managed a half smile, “Dr. Wright.”

Elaine’s face broke out into a wide grin as she turned to him, still dressed in her work scrubs, her badge clipped to her lapel. On her lunch break, he assumed.

“Agent Gibbs,” her voice was surprised, but pleasant, “I don’t think you should come after my sugar consumption. I’ve heard just how high your caffeine intake is.”

Gibbs chuckled, “fair enough. Tough patient?”

“Yeah, you could say that,” Elaine stood next to him, “tough case?”

Gibbs nodded and mimicked her words, “yeah… you could say that.” He looked down at her. Her flaming red curls were stuffed into a tight bun on the back of her head. A few stray curls bounced around her head, free from the elastics holding everything else in place.

“Tell me about it,” Elaine glanced up at him, “Consider me a… consultant. Y’know like those psychics on TV.”

“Are you a psychic, Elaine?” Gibbs asked.

“No, but I’m a doctor,” Elaine said, “and a little birdie told me that cause of death looks natural, but you’re investigating murder. Maybe a fresh pair of eyes is what you need?”

Gibbs stopped a moment and considered. Maybe a fresh pair of eyes was what he needed. Ducky had gone over the body several times and all of the evidence had been scoured for forensics. A different perspective could be enlightening.

“Gibbs!” The barista called. Gibbs grabbed his coffee and took a sip.

“You free today?” Gibbs asked.

“For the case? Or… something else?” Elaine cheekily smiled. Gibbs rolled his eyes. Elaine laughed, “What time do you want me there?

“1700 hours,” Gibbs said.

“Copy that, gunny.”

~~~

The elevator dinged and Elaine ran her hands down the front of her shirt, smoothing it out after taking a deep breath. The last time she was here, she had held a bomb for four hours, and then developed a slight crush on the leading investigator, who also happened to be her godfather’s best friend. She had woken up in his home, after receiving a serious concussion where he had monitored her for the full day.

Elaine had changed out of her scrubs into more office-appropriate attire. As the elevator doors slowly opened in front of her she was greeted by the familiar sight of the orange squad room. She stepped out and quickly made her way to the bullpen.

“Dr. Wright,” DiNozzo stood and moved to her side, “how can I help you?”

“I’m looking for agent Gibbs, he asked me to be here.”

“For what?”

“Elaine,” Gibbs rounded the dividers. Elaine smiled and walked to him, “with me.”

“Yes, sir,” Elaine fell into step with him as he guided her to the second elevator, “so read me in.”

“Navy officer, 35, house was trashed and raided, there was a significant amount of deer blood on the body but when the body was examined, all roads lead to a heart attack,” Gibbs said, “but the officer was perfectly healthy when we pulled his medical records.”

“Huh,” Elaine rolled her lips, “I might have an idea.”

When the elevator opened Elaine was greeted by the sight of a serile autopsy room, and her godfather.

“Hello dear,” Ducky smiled and walked over to her, embracing her tight.

“Hi dad,” Elaine smiled and returned the hug, “i’m here as a fresh pair of eyes.”

“Yes Jethro told me,” Ducky pulled away and retrieved her a fresh set of protective equipment, “our dear officer is right here.” Elaine pulled the PPE over her clothing and approached the body. He looked healthy, for a dead guy who had been autopsied. Nothing immediately struck her as strange. Elaine rolled the body’s arm out and inspected its veins.

“Did this man go to the hospital before he died?” elaine asked, grabbing a magnifying glass to zoom the area.

“No,” Ducky said. Elaine pulled away from the glass, and showed Ducky. He hummed, “Looks like an IV. But there were no drugs in his blood.”

“No, there wasnt,” Elaine said, “They didnt inject medication. They injected air. Of course you wouldn’t see it on a tox screen. An injection of air can cause what looks like a heart attack. The air bubbles block the flow of blood, it’s the reason we watch so close for air bubbles in shots, and IV drips.”

It was that moment that Gibbs realized just how smart this woman was, “The injection was professional. Straight into the vein. You’re looking for someone who works in a hospital or medical testing lab. A phlebotomist maybe, or a nurse.”

A nurse, that was it. Gibbs nodded and began walking off.

“Say thank you, Jethro!” Ducky called. Gibbs halted and turned, approaching Elaine as she took her gloves off with her back turned to him. When she turned she froze to see he was mere inches from her. She looked up at him with a small blush dusting her cheeks.

“Good work, doctor,” Gibbs’ voice was low. Elaine swallowed and smiled at him.

“Told you, you needed fresh eyes,” She smiled slightly. Gibbs turned and walked away and Elaine took a deep breath, leaning against the sinks.

“You’re swooning, Elaine,” Ducky said. Elaine laughed slightly.

“That man is worth swooning for,” She answered.

#fanfic #gibbs #gibbs x reader #jethro gibbs x reader #leroy jethro gibbs #ncis fanfiction #ncis gibbs #leroy jethro gibbs x reader

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whencyclopedia · 4 months

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D-Day was 80 years ago today!

D-Day was the first day of Operation Overlord, the Allied attack on German-occupied Western Europe, which began on the beaches of Normandy, France, on 6 June 1944. Primarily US, British, and Canadian troops, with naval and air support, attacked five beaches, landing some 135,000 men in a day widely considered to have changed history.

Where to Attack?

Operation Overlord, which sought to attack occupied Europe starting with an amphibious landing in northwest France, Belgium, or the Netherlands, had been in the planning since January 1943 when Allied leaders agreed to the build-up of British and US troops in Britain. The Allies were unsure where exactly to land, but the requirements were simple: as short a sea crossing as possible and within range of Allied fighter cover. A third requirement was to have a major port nearby, which could be captured and used to land further troops and equipment. The best fit seemed to be Normandy with its flat beaches and port of Cherbourg.

The Atlantic Wall

The leader of Nazi Germany, Adolf Hitler (1889-1945), called his western line of defences the Atlantic Wall. It had gaps but presented an impressive string of fortifications along the coast from Spain to the Netherlands. Construction of gun batteries, bunker networks, and observation posts began as early as 1942.

Many of the German divisions were not crack troops but inexperienced soldiers, who were spending more time building defences than in vital military training. There was a woeful lack of materials for Hitler's dream of the Atlantic Wall, really something of a Swiss cheese, with some strong areas, but many holes. The German army was not provided with sufficient mines, explosives, concrete, or labourers to better protect the coastline. At least one-third of gun positions still had no casement protection. Many installations were not bomb-proof. Another serious weakness was naval and air support. The navy had a mere 4 destroyers available and 39 E-boats while the Luftwaffe's (German Air Force's) contribution was equally paltry with only 319 planes operating in the skies when the invasion took place (rising to 1,000) in the second week.

Neptune to Normandy

Preparation for Overlord occurred right through April and May of 1940 when the Royal Air Force (RAF) and United States Air Force (USAAF) relentlessly bombed communications and transportation systems in France as well as coastal defences, airfields, industrial targets, and military installations. In total, over 200,000 missions were conducted to weaken as much as possible the Nazi defences ready for the infantry troops about to be involved in the largest troop movement in history. The French Resistance also played their part in preparing the way by blowing up train lines and communication systems that would ensure the defenders could not effectively respond to the invasion.

The Allied fleet of 7,000 vessels of all kinds departed from English south-coast ports such as Falmouth, Plymouth, Poole, Portsmouth, Newhaven, and Harwich. In an operation code-named Neptune, the ships gathered off Portsmouth in a zone called 'Piccadilly Circus' after the busy London road junction, and then made their way to Normandy and the assault areas. At the same time, gliders and planes flew to the Cherbourg peninsula in the west and Ouistreham on the eastern edge of the planned landing. Paratroopers of the 82nd and 101st US Airborne Division attacked in the west to try and cut off Cherbourg. At the eastern extremity of the operation, paratroopers of the 6th British Airborne Division aimed to secure Pegasus Bridge over the Caen Canal. Other tasks of the paratrooper and glider units were to destroy bridges to impede the enemy, hold others necessary for the invasion to progress, destroy gun emplacements, secure the beach exits, and protect the invasion's flanks.

The Beaches

The amphibious attack was set for dawn on 5 June, daylight being a requirement for the necessary air and naval support. Bad weather led to a postponement of 24 hours. Shortly after midnight, the first waves of 23,000 British and American paratroopers landed in France. US paratroopers who dropped near Ste-Mère-Église ensured this was the first French town to be liberated. From 3.00 a.m., air and naval bombardment of the Normandy coast began, letting up just 15 minutes before the first infantry troops landed on the beaches at 6.30 a.m.

The beaches selected for the landings were divided into zones, each given a code name. US troops attacked two, the British army another two, and the Canadian force the fifth. These beaches and the troops assigned to them were (west to east):

Utah Beach - 4th US Infantry Division, 7th US Corps (1st US Army commanded by Lieutenant General Omar N. Bradley)

Omaha Beach - 1st US Infantry Division, 5th US Corps (1st US Army)

Gold Beach - 50th British Infantry Division, 30th British Corps (2nd British Army commanded by Lieutenant-General Miles C. Dempsey)

Juno Beach - 3rd Canadian Infantry Division (2nd British Army)

Sword Beach - 3rd British Infantry Division, 1st British Corps (2nd British Army)

In addition, the 2nd US Rangers were to attack the well-defended Pointe du Hoc between Utah and Omaha (although it turned out the guns had never been installed there), while Royal Marine Commando units attacked targets on Gold, Juno, and Sword.

The RAF and USAAF continued to protect the invasion fleet and ensure any enemy ground-based counterattack faced air attack. As the Allies could put in the air 12,000 aircraft at this stage, the Luftwaffe's aerial fightback was pitifully inadequate. On D-Day alone, the Allied air forces flew 15,000 sorties compared to the Luftwaffe's 100. Not one single Allied aircraft was lost to enemy fire on D-Day.

Packing Normandy

By the end of D-Day, 135,000 men had been landed and relatively few casualties were sustained – some 5,000 men. There were some serious cock-ups, notably the hopeless dispersal of the paratroopers (only 4% of the US 101st Air Division were dropped at the intended target zone), but, if anything, this caused even more confusion amongst the German commanders on the ground as it seemed the Allies were attacking everywhere. The defenders, overcoming the initial handicap that many area commanders were at a strategy conference in Rennes, did eventually organise themselves into a counterattack, deploying their reserves and pulling in troops from other parts of France. This is when French resistance and aerial bombing became crucial, seriously hampering the German army's effort to reinforce the coastal areas of Normandy. The German field commanders wanted to withdraw, regroup and attack in force, but, on 11 June, Hitler ordered there be no retreat.

All of the original invasion beaches were linked as the Allies pushed inland. To aid thousands more troops following up the initial attack, two artificial floating harbours were built. Code-named Mulberries, these were located off Omaha and Gold beaches and were built from 200 prefabricated units. A storm hit on 20 June, destroying the Mulberry Harbour off Omaha, but the one at Gold was still serviceable, allowing some 11,000 tons of material to be landed every 24 hours. The other problem for the Allies was how to supply thousands of vehicles with the fuel they needed. The short-term solution, code-named Tombola, was to have tanker ships pump fuel to storage tanks on shore, using buoyed pipelines. The longer-term solution was code-named Pluto (Pipeline Under the Ocean), a pipeline under the Channel to Cherbourg through which fuel could be pumped. Cherbourg was taken on 27 June and was used to ship in more troops and supplies, although the defenders had sunk ships to block the harbour and these took some six weeks to fully clear.

Operation Neptune officially ended on 30 June. Around 850,000 men, 148,800 vehicles, and 570,000 tons of stores and equipment had been landed since D-Day. The next phase of Overlord was to push the occupiers out of Normandy. The defenders were not only having logistical problems but also command issues as Hitler replaced Rundstedt with Field Marshal Günther von Kluge (1882-1944) and formally warned Rommel not to be defeatist.

Aftermath: The Normandy Campaign

By early July, the Allies, having not got further south than around 20 miles (32 km) from the coast, were behind schedule. Poor weather was limiting the role of aircraft in the advance. The German forces were using the countryside well to slow the Allied advance – countless small fields enclosed with trees and hedgerows which limited visibility and made tanks vulnerable to ambush. Caen was staunchly defended and required Allied bombers to obliterate the city on 7 July. The German troops withdrew but still held one-half of the city. The Allies lost around 500 tanks trying to take Caen, vital to any push further south. The advance to Avranches was equally tortuous, and 40,000 men were lost in two weeks of heavy fighting. By the end of July, the Allies had taken Caen, Avranches, and the vital bridge at Pontaubault. From 1 August, Patton and the US Third Army were punching south at the western side of the offensive, and the Brittany ports of St. Malo, Brest, and Lorient were taken.

German forces counterattacked to try and retake Avranches, but Allied air power was decisive. Through August 1940, the Allies swept southwards to the Loire River from St. Nazaire to Orléans. On 15 August, a major landing took place on the southwest coast of France (French Riviera landings) and Marseille was captured on 28 August. In northern France, the Allies captured enough territory, ports, and airfields for a massive increase in material support. On 25 August, Paris was liberated. By mid-September, the Allied troops in the north and south of France had linked up and the campaign front expanded eastwards pushing on to the borders of Germany. There would be setbacks like Operation Market Garden of September and a brief fightback at the Battle of the Bulge in December 1944, but the direction of the war and ultimate Allied victory was now a question of not if but when.

#dday #dday80 #ww2 #wwii #wwii history

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weenwrites · 4 months

Note

Optimus, Arcee, and Ratchet

Those 3 with human adult reader who’s homeless? I’m talking no home, lack of money, and I’m assuming that they stay at base the majority of the time. Also, they weren’t born homeless, they said it themselves that they caused it on their own.

[ Please do not repost, plagiarize, or use my writing for AI! Translating my work with proper credit is acceptable, but please ask first! ]

Optimus

He explains that you are free to stay at the base if you have nowhere else to go, and if anything it would be much safer for you to remain here than out on the streets. Now that you're under the Autobot's care, he tries to be as accommodating as he can, but for the time being all he was able to find in the storage room was an old couch, a table, and a dusty tv, all of which were presumably from the previous inhabitants of the silo.

The base is very spacious, but the closest area to the restroom was upon the walking platform, and so that platform became your living area for the sake of convenience. However, if you wished for more privacy he offered the first room down the corridor (it is massive and a long way to walk though).

You don't need to worry about Agent Fowler, either. Optimus had already mulled things over with him, and he agreed to allow the bots to let you live there. Fowler even does what he can to provide you with food stamps and provide you healthcare for any disabilities or illnesses you have.

Every now and then he talks to Agent Fowler about you, and he brings up the same topic time and time again, and every time Optimus still receives the same uncertain answer that might as well be a fancy-worded "maybe". Sometimes he receives good news, sometimes there's nothing at all, but Optimus still hasn't lost hope that eventually you'll be given some form of financial aid.

Arcee

She doesn't mind having you around at base 24/7. If anything, it makes her job much more convenient because you're within range most of the time. When you were first allowed to stay at the base full-time, she showed you all the spare rooms, the exits to the base encase of an emergency, and any other rooms you asked to see. Since the base is rather large for someone your size, she recommended staying as close to the main area as possible, or otherwise it could be quite the jog to get around.

As she learned more about you, she has asked about your past from time to time, and however you mean "caused it on your own", she won't push you to explain if it's too sensitive a topic for you to elaborate on, or if you just generally don't wish to, she respects your privacy and she won't press for any more information. And even if you do tell her, she doesn't judge you for it.

She'll offer to be your ride any time you want to go to Jasper for whatever reason, and she tries to stick close to you encase things go south. The more she goes out with you in public, the quicker she is to realize that she sort of deters cops from trying to shoo you away. If you go to food pantries or food banks, she feels guilty that she ends up limiting what you can bring back with you since her alt-mode's not too convenient for transporting things.

Ratchet

He certainly isn't going to butt heads with Optimus about whether you should stay at the base. If you have no home of your own, you're at a bigger risk of being caught by the Decepticons. For the most part he won't have any problem with it, and he leaves you be so long as you don't obstruct his work.

You have your own designated corner in the base, it's the area that the kids currently hang out in, but you were most likely there first. You were also offered other empty areas within the base that would offer you more privacy, but whether you take them or not is up to you.

As much as he'd prefer to stay indoors so he can work productively, if you need to go outside for whatever reason he'll escort you to Jasper. He sticks out like a sore thumb amidst the other cars on the road though, so he still makes a point to swiftly take care of any business you have, as not to attract any unwanted attention to yourselves.

His understanding of human anatomy is very rudimentary and limited, but he's learned enough to be able to understand when something's wrong. And in the event that his own medical knowledge isn't enough to help, he's glossed over the route to the nearest hospital from the base, and he'll be sure to ask Fowler to take care of the expenses later on.

#tfp imagines #tfp headcanons #tfp x reader #tfp optimus prime #optimus prime x reader #tfp arcee #arcee x reader #tfp ratchet #ratcher x reader #x reader #reader insert #self insert #weenwrites

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gloomwitchwrites · 10 months

Text

Frozen Ground: Part 1 (Din Djarin x Female Reader)

Content & Warnings: romantic fluff, love at first sight, Mandalorian culture

Word Count: 5.4k

Din travels to a farming planet to recruit a reclusive group of Mandalorians to help retake Mandalore. The snowy season is starting, and the locals are preparing for their winter observance. While waiting for the Mandalorian covert to come to a decision, Din spends time with the local population, finding a bit of comfort with a particular someone.

A/N: Part of the Winter 2023 Collection

Part 2

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // winter 2023 masterlist

Mando’a Translations: buir – father, mother Mando’ade – Mandalorians (plural) vod – brother, sister, comrade

The N1 Starfighter exits hyperspace and cruises through Itera airspace.

Grogu snoozes softly in Din’s lap. His small body is curled up in a ball, and his face is turned into Din’s chest plate as he slumbers. The foundling has been asleep the entire way to Itera, and he shows no sign of waking any time soon.

Din glances away from his foundling and out the N1’s viewport. A small twang of nervousness coils in the pit of his stomach as he observes the quickly approaching planet. It’s not the planet itself that worries Din, but why he was sent here in the first place. It is the task that Bo-Katan Kryze placed upon him with confidence that sits heavy on his shoulders.

Bo-Katan is uniting the clans. She is calling back the tribes in an effort to reclaim Mandalore. She heard a rumor that a reclusive tribe of Mandalorians dwell on Itera. Din is supposed to find them, and convince them to come back with him to Nevarro.

That is all the information he has. Bo-Katan had little intel to give. Din has no idea if these Mandalorians are more like his tribe, or if they lean more towards the ideals that Bo-Katan and her kin follow.

As Mandalorians, this tribe on Itera should welcome him. But Din knows that isn’t always the case. It wasn’t that long ago that Din had his own misgivings against fellow Mandalorians who walked the path differently than he.

When he first met Bo-Katan Kryze and her Nite Owls, Din shunned them. Even when they stepped in to save his foundling, and then later when a group of Quarren attacked him, Din was still reluctant to engage with them.

It’s not his proudest moment, and since then, much about his life has changed. The way he sees the galaxy, and his understanding of what it means to be a Mandalorian has shifted significantly in the last few years. While he holds tightly to his ideals, he knows that his way is not the only way.

Mandalorians should not hide in the dark any longer.

The cloudy expanse of Itera becomes clearer as Din cruises closer. Itera is a fertile farming planet located on the edge of the Middle Rim. Din rummaged around in some public achieves to scrounge up any information he could about it. According to the information he did manage to locate, Itera is relatively peaceful and mostly inhabited by small farming communities.

Even though Bo-Katan lacked information on who these Mandalorians are, she was able to provide Din with an estimated range of coordinates. She told him that they might be located within this range, but wasn’t entirely sure if her intel was reliable.

He’s worked with less.

Din punches in the numbers and the navigation system focuses in on a small bit of land in the northern hemisphere.

The N1’s engine purrs, and Grogu turns over in Din’s lap. The foundling does not wake.

Din’s ship breaks through the atmosphere and effortlessly transitions into the gray cloud cover. The clouds spit Din out over dreary farmland. Below him, droids and people work the land.

Din does not see any buildings that indicate a settlement. He checks the navigation system again and it reveals his suspicions. The coordinates Bo-Katan gave him cover too much land. He’ll need to tighten the search.

“Kriff me,” mutters Din, as he clears the coordinates from the nav system. “R5, scan the surface. Let’s find civilization.”

R5 chirps, and then a little antenna pops out of its head, spinning slowly in a circle. Din reduces his speed over the farmland, waiting for R5 to give him an answer. After a few minutes, the antenna retreats, and then the navigation system lights up with new coordinates.

Din follows the set path. While most of what Din sees is farmland, buildings start to appear in small intervals. At first, it’s just one or two, and then a cluster at a time. Before long, the wall of a settlement appears. There is open land to the left that Din deicides to land on.

He brings the N1 down softly.

Grogu still doesn’t stir. The little womprat has his right hand in his mouth, and a little line of drool runs down the back Grogu’s palm. Sighing, Din wipes it away.

“R5, what’s the temperature outside?” asks Din quietly as he watches a few swirls of snow drift down from the gray clouds. They land on the glass of the N1 and immediately melt.

R5 responds in a series of binary and Din sighs.

It’s far too cold for Grogu to be walking around for long periods of time. The snowy season has arrived on this planet, and Grogu will need something warmer to wear.

Slowly, Din releases the hatch and cold air drifts in. Using the blanket from Grogu’s pram, Din wraps the foundling in it, gently laying him down in the cockpit seat. Din steps out onto the wing and then the hard ground as the hatch closes.

He turns to R5. “Keep an eye on him while I’m gone.” R5 beeps in reply and Din heads toward the open gates.

The wood wall of the settlement seems more decorative than functional, roughly stopping at Din’s chest. Once Din approaches the entrance, he notices that there are no gates at all. It’s entirely open.

Strolling down the main street, Din realizes rather quickly that no one avoids him. It’s the exact opposite. Every person he passes greets Din with a friendly “hello” or nodding of the head before going about their day.

It’s bizarre. Strange. And it momentarily disorients him.

Din thought that he might ask around, see if he could find someone willing to talk to him. But every friendly face only causes him to question who he needs to speak to on locating the Mandalorian covert. No one shies away or avoids looking directly at his helmet. Each person is bold and unafraid of him.

Is the Mandalorian covert known to these people? Do they interact with them frequently?

Perhaps. It would explain why no one seems frightened of him.

Din enters deeper into the settlement, seeking out a cantina or public establishment where he might find information. Not finding any such place on the main road, Din tracks back to the very front of the settlement, deciding to head east and take a look around.

Rounding a corner, he hears the distinct sound of laughter. It’s not one person, or even a few, but a low roar like a small crowd. Din keeps walking, tracking the sound, coming across a small building that hardly looks big enough to hold a drinking establishment. In addition, the door is just red fabric handing from the top of the door frame.

The laughter comes again, and it’s much louder than before. He’s in the right spot.

With all the confidence Din can muster, he strides up to the curtain, pushing it aside and he steps into the building.

Din comes to a grinding halt, nearly tripping on his own feet.

This is not a cantina or anything similar.

A group of women, nearly fifteen in total, occupy the space. They all have large canvas sacks next to them, each one full of something different. Some look like they’re full of flower petals while others appear to hold bright red berries. The women vary in age. Most of them are older than Din, but there are a few who look to be about his age, give or take a few years.

They glance up but keep working, several of them smiling softly at him.

Din feels like an unwanted intruder even though the women appear calm and indifferent to his presence. He mumbles a “sorry” intended to back out the way he came, but the moment his boot slides backward, one of the women stands, her full attention on him.

“How can I help you, Mandalorian?”

You dust a few petals off your apron, missing the one in your hair, and approach Din, hands clasped in front of you. Din’s heart temporarily stutters to a stop before revving into a thudding beat he can feel in his ears. You’re pretty, but that isn’t the only thing he notices. You’re delicate lines and curves appeal to him in a way that trigger’s his protective instinct.

The flash of feeling, this need Din suddenly exhibits flashes bright and hot before his brain catches up and tries to smother it down to cooling embers.

“Excuse me. I didn’t mean to interrupt.” Din tries to back out again but you only push in, and Din’s hand relexify forms a fist in an attempt to thwart the growing need to touch you.

“There is no interruption. How can I be of service to you?” Your head tilts to the right slightly, and the eagerness on your face sends blood to his groin.

Din’s eyes roam all over your body, but his eyes keep going back to the lone petal that’s tangled in the strands of your hair.

The other women still work, none of them glancing in Din’s direction. He decides to seek help, knowing it might not do much.

“There is a Mandalorian covert on this planet that I’m searching for. Do you know where I might find them?”

“Oh,” you murmur. Your eyes round slightly, and your lips part in surprise. “I didn’t realize—I thought you—” You shake your head and the petal in your hair stays put.

“Is there anyone here that might know?”

The gentle surprise morphs into amusement. “Everyone knows where they are.” The corners of your mouth curve up into a soft smile and Din nearly melts under that gaze. He is so absorbed in your beauty that your words are the last thing to catch up to him.

Everyone knows where they are?

Din does not have the chance to follow-up, you’re already talking, telling him exactly what he needs to know. “Just to the north of here. There’s a forested area where the covert lives.”

This is unusual, and Din is slightly unsure whether or not he can trust what he might find once he ventures in that direction.

“Do you know where exactly?”

You shake your head. “We do not go in. They like their privacy, and we are respectful of that.”

This is better news. The two groups must interact frequently. It would explain why everyone in town isn’t afraid of him.

“You’re not from around here?” you ask, curiosity tinging your tone.

“No,” replies Din. “I’m not.”

Your gaze softens. “If no one has, allow me to formally welcome you.”

Without thinking—without pausing to reconsider—Din reaches toward you, his gloved fingers plucking the petal from your hair. He presents it to you, open palmed.

Delicately, you lift it, rubbing it between your fingers. With your gaze on the petal, Din takes a step back, the curtain brushing against his back. You glance up, and Din inclines his head, disappearing quickly before he does something he’ll regret.

Din still burns beneath his armor even after he arrives back at the N1. Grogu is still sleeping, and his ship is entirely untouched. Din is careful with the foundling when he settles back into the cockpit.

He relays the information to R5 who promptly scans the area, sending new coordinates to the navigation system. Once clear, Din follows the trail north, finding the forest you mentioned. Din circles around a few times, eventually settling on a flat spot of land just outside the tree line. Din lowers the N1 to the planet’s surface. Grogu stirs in his lap but doesn’t wake.

He leaves Grogu behind again with R5, knowing that he can come back for Grogu later. The droid will look after him until Din can assess the situation.

As Din approaches the tree line, he pauses, surveying the ground around him. At first glance there are no footprints of even animal prints. He engages the scanner in his helmet. The moment it switches on, his screen lights up with glowing boot prints. They are everywhere, moving in so many directions that Din cannot find a pattern.

Frowning, Din switches over to another scanner. This one seeks out what only Mandalorians leave behind for others of their kind to find. He sweeps the scanner over the ground, and then the trees. He comes up empty.

Sighing, Din starts walking, stepping past the tree line and tries again, this time doing a slow sweep of the ground and trees. The hard ground crunches under his boots, and it is incredibly quiet, the only sound is the whistling wind.

On a tree in the distance, a soft glow catches Din’s attention in the scanner. He pauses, takes one step back for a better view. It’s a glowing Mythosaur with an arrow beneath it pointing to the right.

This is his lead. This is his break. You were telling the truth.

Din heads toward the glowing symbol and then follows the direction the arrow indicates, scanning the area for any other markers. He locates another that directs him deeper into the trees. It leads to a large rock formation. The stone slabs are layered over each other like a twisted crown.

There, glowing bright against the gray rock, is another Mythosaur.

“Hail, vod.”

Din whirls around, his hand on his blaster. The only thing that stays his hand from drawing the weapon is the use of the word vod.

A male Mandalorian drops from a tree branch and strides forward, stopping a few feet away from Din. His armor is dented in a few places and painted in various green tones that emulate the trees.

No wonder Din didn’t see him.

The man has not drawn his weapon, which means he does not see Din as a threat. But why would he? Mandalorians are stronger together, and any reunion, even between tribes, is a joyous one.

Din immediately removes his hand from his blaster, standing tall and proud. He has a job to do. “My name is Din Djarin. I’ve come on behalf of Lady Bo-Katan Kryze.”

The green-clad Mandalorian crosses his arms. “I see,” he replies, tone grim. “And what does Lady Kryze want with us?”

Better to get it out now in case he’s turned away. “She is rallying the clans to retake Mandalore.”

The man is quiet for a beat before he answers. “And she wishes for us to join her?”

“She does.”

The Mandalorian nods, and drops his arms, striding forward. “Well, Din Djarin. You are welcome in our enclave, and we will hear what you have to say.” He presents his hand and Din clasps it. “I am Crix Lera. Welcome to our home.”

Crix releases Din’s hand. He brushes past Din and heads to the rock.

Din follows, and notices a small opening that Crix disappears inside. The space isn’t tight but the formation of the natural rock hides the entrance. You’d need to know exactly where it is to see it.

Din slides through the opening, only to find himself in a small tunnel. Crix walks ahead, and Din follows on his heels along the path. They don’t walk for long. The small tunnel begins to widen, and then opens up into a large communal area.

The first thing Din immediately notices are the lack of faces. Everyone wears a helmet except for a few small children. The communal area is circular, and the center of the room is lower than the rest of the floor. There is a fire burning there, the smoke curling upward to exit through a naturally formed ventilation shaft. In the rocky ceiling are small cut outs that let in some natural light.

When Din enters the area on Crix’s heels, several people pause and glance up, watching the duo as Crix walks along the edge of the room. Din takes this time to take a closer look at the Mandalorians he’s been sent to speak with.

They all appear healthy. Their armor is relatively clean and in good repair. The ratio of men to women is fairly equal, and the number of foundlings is much larger than his tribe’s. Din’s gaze passes over a woman standing by the far wall with a man and a small child. She’s clutching her belly, and that is when Din notices the slight bulge underneath her chest plate.

“You’ll meet with our armorer and tribe leaders,” says Crix over his shoulder, drawing Din’s attention away from the slowly growing crowd of Mandalorians.

“Do they make all the decisions?”

Crix shakes his head. “No. We make them as a group. But when it comes to matters pertaining to the whole clan, they are the ones who mediate the discussions. We will often look to them for final guidance.”

Din does not reply. It’s similar to how his own tribe operates, but he still has too many questions.

Crix guides Din to a small cut in the rock wall. It’s an archway, and it deposits them into a much smaller chamber. A simple forge sits in the center of the room. A Mandalorian Armorer and a child stand together near a workbench. The child is young but old enough to start their training. The two of them talk softly.

On the opposite side of the room, another Mandalorian hammers away at some armor. It’s clear that this is still a child, perhaps a teenager, and must be an apprentice of some kind because his armor is like that of the armorer’s.

The armorer and child both look up when Din and Crix enter the room. Din hangs back near the archway as Crix addresses the armorer.

“We have a visitor, Vikal. This is Din Djarin. Sent to us by Lady Bo-Katan of Clan Kryze. He says she is rallying the clans to retake Mandalore.”

At the mention of retaking Mandalore, the apprentice pauses mid-swing to glance over at Din. The small child at Vikal’s hip shifts slightly, clearly nervous.

Vikal sets the vambrace he’s holding on top of the workbench. He turns toward the apprentice. “Darro. Take your brother and leave us.”

Darro immediately responds, heading in their direction.

“But buir!” protests the child, his little fist tugging on his father’s hand.

“Hush. Go with your brother.” Vikal places a hand on the child’s shoulder just as Darro presents his hand. The child takes it, and Din steps to the side as they pass through the archway.

Once they leave, Vikal steps out from around the workbench and strides forward, pausing just a few feet away from Din. Vikal’s armor and clothes are all black. It’s almost like looking into the void of space. He’s tall, too. Perhaps as tall or even surpassing Paz Vizsla in size.

“Yours?” asks Din, using the question to learn a little bit about the tribe’s practices.

“Mine,” confirms Vikal. But he doesn’t elaborate, and Din decides not to say anything more. “Have you just arrived?” inquires Vikal. “From Mandalore?”

“No,” answers Din. “I came from Nevarro.”

“That is far.”

Vikal closes the distance, his helmet moving with him as he clearly observers Din’s armor. It is not an objectifying look, but an appreciation. “You wear fine work.”

“The armorer of my tribe forged it for me. I am honored by it.”

“This is the Way,” states Vikal.

“This is the Way,” replies Din.

Vikal inclines his head and takes a step back. “You are our guest here. You shall have our hospitality before we speak on more serious matters. As warriors, we are always so quick to take action. Rest. Eat. We will proceed from there.” He turns to Crix. “See to it that Din Djarin has a private room and a hot meal.”

Crix nods, and he and Din depart.

In his private room, Din removes his helmet, and eats.

The food is hot. Fresh. So different from the plain rations he’s used to eating with his tribe. Din wants to know more about this one. He is curious to their ways. When Crix comes for him, the two return to the main communal area. The entire tribe is there, including all the younglings. It is then that he notices several Mandalorians clutching infants.

Din scans the crowd and his heart drops into his stomach.

R5 is here. The droid is on Vikal’s left side. On the armorer’s right, sitting on the floor near his boots, is Grogu. The foundling has a wooden bowl before him. He reaches in, and lifts a handful of something that Din doesn’t recognize and shoves it all into his mouth.

Din immediately aims for Grogu. Seeming to sense him, Grogu glances up and coos, his food covered hands reaching for Din.

“I assume this one is yours?” asks Vikal as Din lifts Grogu and holds the little womprat up to his face. Din checks him over but the foundling is fine. No signs of injury expect the food that’s smeared all over the child’s hands and face.

“Yes,” sighs Din. Crix holds out a hand, indicating he should take a seat. Din does so but he puts Grogu back on the floor. The foundling immediately crawls toward the bowl.

“Your foundling and the droid arrived not too long ago. Found us quite easily. Impressive for one so young.”

Din smiles softly behind the helmet.

Vikal rubs his knees and then stands, striding forward, stopping before the fire. The entire room quiets.

“Mando’ade! We welcome Din Djarin.” Vikal turns toward Din and extends his arm in Din’s direction. The Mandalorians in attendance beat their fists against their chests three times before dropping their arms. “He brings us an important message.”

Vikal retreats, stopping before Din. “Approach, vod. We will hear you.”

Din stands slowly. Grogu’s head tilts to the side, watching Din, his mouth full of food. Din walks to the center of the room just shy of the fire.

“I am Din Djarin. My tribe lives on Nevarro. I have come before you at the behest of Lady Bo-Katan Kryze. She is rallying the clans in an effort to return to and reclaim our ancestral home world of Mandalore. She sent me to ask you if you are willing to join our efforts.”

Din pauses and every single person in the room is watching him, saying nothing. He swallows, knowing that he’ll need to say more to convince them to join.

“I know that I am in no position to ask this of any of you. But we have lived in the dark for too long. Our people are scattered. Like stars in the galaxy. Perhaps it is time for us to live in the light once again. So that our culture may flourish and our children can feel what is it to play in the sunlight.”

The Mandalorians around him chatter softly, but Din cannot differentiate between their conversations. He turns toward Vikal, and the man stands. “Is Lady Kryze certain of success?” he asks, addressing Din. “Mandalorians are few, and our preservation is important. Can she guarantee that there will not be needless death?”

No.

Din sighs, his shoulders heaving slightly. “I cannot give you any such certainties.”

Another Mandalorian stands. It is a man, and his armor is a deep red. “That planet is cursed. The air is unbreathable and nothing grows. We have all heard the stories. Why should we go back to a dead planet?”

“This is not true,” says Din vehemently. “I have been to the surface. I have seen Mandalore with my own eyes. The air is breathable. Life is possible.”

The quiet chatter heightens. Becomes a dull roar.

“What is Lady Kryze’s plan for when the planet is retaken?” This time, a woman asks the question.

“Her goal is the Great Forge. That will be our place of operations and base for reconstruction.”

Din will tell them the truth. There is no reason to hide anything.

“But will we have a place there? Can we call Mandalore home? Or must we return to this planet?”

“All Mandalorians are welcome.”

Vikal nods and stands. “Does anyone else have questions for Din Djarin?” No one replies. “Thank you for relaying Lady Kryze’s message. You have given us much to consider.” Vikal addresses the room. “We will reflect on this, and then convene tomorrow evening for deeper discussion.”

The crowd of Mandalorians incline their heads and place their fists over their hearts. When their arms drop back to their sides, many start to get up and leave.

This isn’t the outcome Din was hoping for. He thought he might receive a quick answer, or even an indication that they are willing to join.

Crix comes up beside Din. “Decisions are never made quickly. You’ll likely be here a few days.”

“As long as I can return with an answer.”

“I’ll come for you tomorrow morning. The local population is holding a festival to celebrate the coming cold.”

Din thinks back to you and the women in that small dwelling. He didn’t exactly get a good look at what you were doing, but Din can only assume the two are connected.

Din tips is head to the side. “You mingle with them?”

“To an extent,” shrugs Crix. “They have no standing army or protection. We look after them, and they take care of us. It has kept our tribe safe for many years.”

Din nods and then bends at the knees to pick up Grogu, cradling the foundling close to his heart.

Crix fetches Din in the early hours of the morning. Grogu is left behind with the other younglings. Din is reluctant to do so, but Crix is persuasive, and Grogu is visibly happy to be amongst other children.

The two men head back through the tunnel, stepping out into the forest. The sun is starting to rise but it’s hard to see through the gray clouds. It snowed overnight, and there is a dusting across the forest floor.

Three Mandalorians mingle just outside the exit. Two men and one woman. They greet Crix with firm handshakes.

“This is Din Djarin,” says Crix. “He’s joining us on our visit into town.”

“Passionate speech you made last night. I’m Jido. Welcome.” Jido and Din clasp forearms and shake.

Jido steps back and points his thumb over his shoulder at the other two Mandalorians. “That’s Ran and Cerra.” Ran gives Din a half-hearted salute while Cerra lifts her hand in greeting. Jido leans in and whispers. “They’re a bit boring.”

“Heard that,” snaps Cerra as she turns her back on the group. “We going?”

The five of them head into the trees, walking in the direction that Din entered from. When they exit, Din heads for the N1, looking it over for any signs of tampering. It’s clean, and Din sighs with relief.

“The people here don’t touch things that aren’t theirs. Your ship will be fine,” states Crix as he walks up beside Din. He runs his gloved hand over the wing in appreciation.

“On Tatooine, I had a run in with some Jawas,” replies Din.

Crix snorts. “What was left of your ship?”

“Nothing.”

Jido, Ran, and Cerra’s jetpacks ignite. Crix and Din follow suit, the five of them launching into the air. Din trails behind, following the four Mandalorians as they jet across dreary farmland.

In minutes they approach the small settlement Din visited yesterday, landing right outside the wall. The people moving about don’t even seem to care that a group of Mandalorians landed amongst them. They keep going about their lives as if is this the norm. It’s the same reaction they had with Din.

Din is almost always the stranger. The unknown variable. In crowded places, he is avoided unless someone needs something from him.

He stays at the back of the pack. Jido, Ran, Crix, and Cerra all appear relaxed. They chat amongst themselves, and even stop for an old woman who presents a basket to them full of the red berries Din saw yesterday. Each Mandalorian takes a handful and deposits the goods into various pockets of their flightsuits.

The old woman approaches Din and holds the basket out to him. He doesn’t want to offend her. He scoops out a decent handful and finds a home for them. He’ll share it with Grogu when he returns.

The old woman inclines her head and moves on. Din’s helmet follows her but Crix taps against Din’s upper arm, drawing his attention away from the woman.

Din inhales, and he isn’t sure if the voice receiver in his helmet picks up the soft sound.

You’re standing right there, eyes bright and eager.

“You found them,” you say enthusiastically.

“I did.” Din is nervous. Why is he nervous? Do you do this to him?

Crix crosses his arms and pops a hip. “The two of you know each other?”

You laugh, and it’s the loveliest sound Din has ever heard. “He stumbled in to Tarra’s workshop while we were preparing the Daily Strands.”

“Make enough for us?” asks Jido, his voice a bit sultry. A bit teasing. Din instantly hates that he’s speaking to you that way.

“There are plenty. So, yes,” you tease back, smiling widely.

Crix shifts, turning his body toward Din. “Since you’re our guest, you don’t need to follow us around while we work.” Crix inclines his head in your direction. “She’ll show you around a bit.”

You look so hopeful that Din cannot say no.

He walks beside you the entire time as you go on about the important buildings, the history of the people, and the finer details of your culture. Din is enraptured by how animated you are toward him. He hardly risks asking any questions, mostly wanting to hear you talk.

“Here we are.” You extend your hand toward the building Din stumbled into yesterday.

“Are we going inside?” asks Din skeptically.

You grin and push back the curtain, gesturing for him to come inside. He follows, and this time there are only two other women in this space. They greet Din politely, but return to their work. You walk over to a large table. On it, are…necklaces? Din isn’t entirely sure what they are.

With caution, he approaches, you present one to him.

“These are Daily Strands. We wear them every day during the winter observance.” You point to the threads holding it together. “The threaded cord is the base, symbolizing the importance of community.” Next, you point to the flower petals. “These symbolize the eventual thaw and growth of new life.” Then the red berries. “These are native to the planet. We dry them out to represent the frozen ground.”

“And what do these symbolize?” asks Din, pointing to long, thin, green, stick-like leaves.

“Abundance. These are needles from local trees, and they grow everywhere.” You smile softly. “But it’s more of a wish for prosperity in the future.”

These are what Jido and Crix were referring to.

You gently lift the Daily Strand, presenting it to Din like an offering. “It’s customary to wear one of these.”

Din does not refuse. Instead, he lowers at the waist so that you can slide it over his helmet and around his neck.

You gently draw away and your hands fall to your skirts, your fingers fumbling with the fabric in nervousness. “It is also customary for the giver to kiss the cheeks of the receiver.” You shrug. “But I can make an exception given the circumstances.”

Din remembers how eager Jido was to receiving one of these. Briefly, Din imagines you kiss the sides of Jido and Crix’s helmets, and Din instantly simmers.

Not knowing how to ask, Din bends again, this time just enough that all you’ll need to do is to go up on your toes to place those gentle lips against his beskar.

“No exceptions,” he murmurs.

Your mouth forms a soft o, and then it cools, turning into tender satisfaction. Slowly, you kiss the curve of his helmet on the right side and then the left.

Even with the helmet on, Din still manages to catch a whiff of your scent. You smell like the trees and warm sugar. Without instruction, his hand brushes against your hip.

You do not draw away, and that pleases something deep within Din. When you pull back, Din instantly misses your heat.

“I will wear this every day,” says Din, his hand resting against it briefly.

You laugh, and Din doesn’t understand what you find so funny. “It’s a Daily Strand. You receive a new one each day.”

Every day? Does that mean you’ll kiss him every time you place a new one around his neck?

“Then I will be back tomorrow for a new one.”

“Promise?” you murmur.

“Promise.”

Part 2

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nocturnalrat · 1 year

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Hihi, ik this is corny lol but could you do a fake dating scenario with 1610!miles where he uses the relationship to cover up his identity as spiderman and why he’s always gone ?

I LOVE THE FAKE DATING TROPE SO MUCH!

Thank you for the prompt! I added some childhood friends to lovers to this :) Hope you like it!

---

Miles and you had been inseparable friends since childhood. Growing up, your families had lived in adjacent apartments, but circumstances forced your family to move to a more affordable neighborhood when you turned eight. Despite attending different schools, you remained friends throughout the years.

As fate would have it, you had come to suspect that Miles was none other than Spider-Man through your occasional encounters with the web-slinging hero. His unmistakable voice, his quirky sense of humor, and that distinctive laugh had given his true identity away.

Miles’ double life as a superhero kept him perpetually occupied. It had been a while since you had last hung out, but you were understanding of the situation. Keeping New York safe was not an easy task.

Each time you witnessed him soaring through the towering skyscrapers of the city, a smile appeared on your face. He was happy, and that was all that mattered to you.

On this particular day, as you were heading home from school, an unexpected event unfolded before your eyes. It was quite a comical sight – a shopping bag laden with groceries in Spider-Man’s hands, as if he were an ordinary citizen carrying out mundane tasks. But just as he exited the store, a car raced down the street at a dangerous speed, closely followed by a convoy of police cars.

Without a moment’s hesitation, he dropped the shopping bag and leaped into action, joining the chase. Amused by the relentless chaos that seemed to follow Spider-Man wherever he went, you decided to do what any loyal friend would have done: You picked up his abandoned groceries and embarked on a mission of your own – to deliver them to his parents’ apartment.

It took you quite some time until you finally arrived at your destination. The sound of a heated argument echoed from the inside of Miles’ apartment. You hesitated for a moment, unsure of what to do next.

“¡No puedo creer que te hayas olvidado de comprar los comestibles otra vez!” His mother’s voice rang out, filled with frustration.

“Lo siento,” you heard Miles’ voice reply. “I just – I got distracted, and then forgot about the food entirely!”

“Distracted by what?” His dad sounded equally irritated. “You had one job!”

Technically, the poor kid has multiple responsibilities, you thought. That’s when you decided to step in and save the day. You knocked on the door, determined to help.

The conversation abruptly fell silent. Miles opened the door, his expression a mix of surprise and bewilderment when he saw you.

"You left your groceries at my house," you said, attempting to convey with your gaze: Hey, I know you're Spider-Man, and I saw you drop your shit just to chase after a criminal. Step up your game.

His father appeared in the doorway. When he recognized you, he smiled. "Oh, it's you. Miles, why didn't you tell me you were visiting a friend?"

You could see the gears turning in Miles' head. Then, to your own astonishment, he responded, "Girlfriend. Not friend."

A sudden crash of dishes on the floor interrupted the scene. Miles' mother stormed towards the door. "What did I just hear?"

You raised an eyebrow, silently questioning him. What the hell, Morales?

Thankfully, you and Miles had always possessed the unique ability to communicate without words.

His look pleaded: Play along. Please.

Who were you to let down a friend in need? If he needed the excuse of a girlfriend, then of course you would provide your assistance.

His father's jaw had dropped. He stared at you as if he were seeing you for the first time in his life.

"Yep!” you said cheerfully. “Girlfriend. We've been dating for..." You looked at him, seeking his support on the matter.

"For a while!" he rushed to say.

Not helpful, you thought.

"What do you mean 'a while'?" his mother inquired suspiciously.

"Nine months,” he said.

"NINE MONTHS?" Her shrill voice pierced through the room, making you cringe. "You've been dating a girl for nine months, and you're only telling us now? Come on in, dear, don't just stand there in the doorway!" She grabbed you by the shoulder and, before you could protest, you were dragged into the living room.

Oh, boy. This was going to be a disaster.

"That explains a lot," his father muttered, but it sounded more like he was talking to himself and thinking out loud. He patted Miles on the back. "You could have talked to me about it, kid. Although... I guess you're not a kid anymore, huh?" His tone turned sentimental and fatherly, and you couldn’t help but feel embarrassed by the entire situation. You had to suppress the urge to grimace.

"Miles, don't just stand there like that, take your girlfriend's bag! She came all the way here because you're forgetful." His mother gave you a tense, yet warm smile. She probably would have reacted worse if Miles had introduced them to a complete stranger.

Miles, who suddenly seemed to remember that he had a role to play, hurriedly took the bag from you, putting it on the kitchen counter. When he returned, you could see him hesitate for a moment before giving you a quick kiss on the cheek.

Tame.

Well. You were in front of his parents, so displaying restraint seemed appropriate.

But if you were already doing him a favor, you wanted to have your fun with it.

With a mischievous grin, you took his hand in yours, and he looked at you with wide, somewhat panicked eyes.

"I don't understand why you didn’t tell us sooner,” his father said.

"Because you guys embarrass me," Miles murmured shyly.

"Embarrassing? Us?" His mother gave him a disapproving glare. Then, turning to you, she said, "Don't break his heart, yeah?”

"Mom!" He whined, blushing.

His genuine reactions were delightfully innocent, and you couldn’t resist taking it a step further.

You threw both your arms around his shoulders and pulled him into a quick kiss. He was taller than you, and his hands instinctively wrapped around your waist. Caught off guard, his eyes widened as your lips met his.

His father cleared his throat, and his mother made a choked sound.

Grinning, you released him from the embrace.

"I'm afraid I still have a lot of homework to do. I'll see you tomorrow, Miles. You guys have a great night, Mr. and Mrs. Morales!"

You left the apartment.

Miles ran after you and caught up with you on the street.

"You – what was that just now?" he exclaimed.

"I should be the one asking questions. Since when did I become your girlfriend?"

"I had to use that excuse!" He sounded contrite. "Sorry, it's just... They've been on my case for ages because I'm always busy and away from home."

"Don't worry about it." You gave him an encouraging smile. "I don't mind playing your girlfriend. Was that your first kiss just now?"

He flinched, embarrassment written all over his face. "No, I've kissed hundreds of girls. What are you talking about?"

"You're a pretty bad liar, Miles."

He puffed out his cheeks. "Fine. Yeah, it was my first kiss. Satisfied?"

"No, not yet. But it seems we'll have plenty of opportunities to practice kissing in the future."

Before he could say anything in response, you had already walked on, leaving an extremely perplexed and embarrassed Miles behind.

Well, you thought, this whole ordeal might actually be a nice distraction from my boring life.

You just had to be careful not to fall for him.

#miles morales x reader #miles x y/n #miles morales x y/n #miles x reader

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awoogayanderes · 4 months

Text

CHAPTER ONE : LET THE SHOW BEGIN

➪ sypnosis : you start to trust the process that has been laid out for you, beginning with nine cards.

➪ warnings : mention of sex work, very small mention of starving if you squint, small mention of death

➪ other notes : just a repetition statement from the prologue - the lower numbers of 1-5 are all the same but y/n is 6, so actual 6 in the show will be 8, and the 8 in the show will now be 9, 7 stays as 7, i hope that makes sense, anyways back to the story !! ALSO, i’m mainly writing this for myself BECAUSE THERES NO FICS ABOUT IT, but i also wanna share my imagination with other people :3

➪ prologue | chapter one

the drive felt almost eerie, your leg lightly bounced as time went on. the driver hadn’t spoken a single word, not that you could see them through the panel of blackout glass between you two. your stomach churned, from hunger and from nervousness. maybe you were walking right into sex trafficking rink ? you had no weapons on you, not even a pocket knife but you had some type of concept of self defense you were taught when you were younger.

that’s when the limousine came to a sudden stop. a second later, the door on your side opened by itself once again. from what you could see, it was some type of warehouse…? maybe an old factory ? now you were confident you were going to be prostituted. regardless, you got out of the limousine, a red carpet awaiting you. slowly, you walked inside.

a theatre ? now you were extremely confused, there was no one in the seats, yet the stage was bright with overwhelming lights, a single small table in the middle of it. you walked up to the table, there were nine cards with the range from one to nine. beside it was a red envelope…and 20 million won on the other side. you opened the envelope, and read the contents.

“hello, and welcome to the 8 show. this show doesn't require any skills or previously acquired knowledge. all that we ask of you is the time you were willing to throw away.” what the hell was this ? “all necessary food and accommodations will be provided to participants, and the available prize money will accumulate as time passes.” so the more time spent, the more money, after all, time is money.

“when the allotted time is over, the show will end itself automatically. in the case that any participant expires during the process, the show will immediately come to an end then, regardless of how much time may remain.” expires…? that was more morbid than you’d like to admit. “therefore, we ask that you pay special attention to your safety. if you do not wish to participate, please take the cab fare from the table and exit the premises.” your eyes turned to the 20 million won, contemplating it.

“however, if you do wish to continue with the show, please select one of the numbered cards. you may then step into and through the drapes,” your eyes flickered back to the cards. all nine cards were there. that meant that no one else had been here right ? or did it mean that every other person had the same options as you when they came in ? were there even other people who were going to participate ?!

you looked around, yet you couldn’t see anyone in sight, then there has to be cameras right ? obviously, if not, then anyone would just come in and take the money and leave, who wouldn’t ? well, apparently you. fuck it, you’ve gotten this far, it’s probably better than death, you try to reason with yourself as you look at the cards again. they mean something, they have to or what would the point be.

the median of one through nine is five, right in the center. you hover your hand over the five card. but higher could be better, switching your hand to nine. but isn’t one a good option too ?you could get an advantage as one, you’ve seen it in game shows before ! your shaky bandaged fingers pick up the one card. you held it for a few seconds before your eyes flickered to another card at the bottom left.

six. just above average. just above middle ground. just above middle class, like your family was when you were little. you dropped the one card, picking up the six, now a bit more confident with your choice. “this better not be a prank…” you mumbled to no one in particular. you walked into the red curtains behind you, it led you to an area of darkness with only a few stairs being illuminated in front of you.

when you climbed the stairs, your lips slightly parted in shock. it looked almost like…an apartment complex…? nine different rooms, so that’s what the cards meant, you knew they were significant. the common area, if you could call it that included an artificial pool, a playground, a merry go round, and what looked like an ice cream and hot dog street vendor…? the rest was just open space.

overwhelmed by the bright colors, you marched your way to the sixth floor, sliding your card on the door lock reader, it almost felt like a hotel. the room was completely empty and dark. you sighed, at least it was pretty spacious. you could get used to a place like this, it was comfortable in an odd way, just four walls and you, everything was fine after all, you’d be fine, you were at peace with the silence.

#written by terra #sincerely terra #the 8 show #the 8 show x reader #netflix #netflix shows #korea drama #k drama

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jerzwriter · 3 months

Text

New Discoveries

This fic is part of "MOC (Merida, Olivia, Casey) World," but it focuses on the guys! This is a dual ask from @annoyingmillenialnewbie and also prompts provided by @storyofmychoices. I love writing for these three together! Thanks so much for the inspiration!

Book: Open Heart (Post Series) Characters: Ethan Ramsey, Bryce Lahela, Tobias Carrick Rating: Teen Words: 2,099 Trope: There's just one bed.... Summary: A boy's weekend camping takes a few different turns (literally and figuratively), but they endure and make some new discoveries along the way.

A/N: This is part of the Merida, Olivia, and Casey world. Merida belongs to the lovely @lilyoffandoms, and Olivia belongs to our dear @storyofmychoices. The prompts can be found on this list created by @creativepromptsforwriting. (The prompts are bolded in text.) Participating in @choicesjunechallenge2024 - Beginning.

The mountainous road was perilous, to say the least. Yet, if Tobias was fazed by it, it didn't show. The day was beautiful, with a brilliant blue sky stretching endlessly without a cloud in sight. They were the only travelers on the road, and the rugged terrain was no match for his new Range Rover. All in all, it was perfect.

The SUV jolted hard to the right... then to the left...

“Look out!” Ethan shouted.

Then to the right again.

While Tobias was living his best life, Bryce was left to wonder how much life he had left. He had to be cajoled to go camping in the first place, and now he lost hope of arriving at the cabin alive. Tobias glanced at him in the rearview mirror, smiling sardonically when he noticed his friend’s pale, green complexion.

“You all right there, buddy?” he bellowed.

“Of course he’s not all right!” Ethan replied from the passenger’s seat. “We’re both wondering how many more sharp turns you'll take before this tin can goes toppling over the side of the mountain.”

“For fucks sake, Ramsey,” Tobias chuckled. “Grow some hair on them. We’re absolutely fine.”

“We are not fine,” Bryce insisted. “If I don’t make it, please tell Olivia I love her.”

“OK, maybe you are being a tad too dramatic,” Ethan reconsidered, to Tobias’s delight.

“That’s better!”

Nevertheless, two of the three men couldn’t have been more relieved when they pulled up to the rustic cabin that would serve as their home for the weekend. Tobias stepped out of the car with his usual swagger. Black Ray-Bans in place and an Original Gourmet Lollipop in his mouth, he surveyed the land, filled his lungs with the fresh air, and smiled.

“Welcome home, friends!”

Bryce’s exit was a little different. Stumbling out the back door, he looked peaked, but the fear started to vanish from his eyes when he realized they were on solid earth.

“I would lean over and kiss the ground, but I’m pretty sure I’d throw up,” he announced as Ethan mumbled under his breath.

“What was that, boss?" Tobias called out. "If you have something to say, you really should tell the whole class.”

“I said I don’t know how you convinced me to do this.”

With his hands in his pockets, Tobias rolled back and forth on his feet with a grin. “First, you love us, no matter how much you try to deny it. Second, Merida would have kicked your ass if you backed out.”

“Not to mention you would have never lived down the ribbing we'd give you if you admitted you couldn’t rough it for one weekend.”

“I can rough it, Bryce!” Ethan replied. “Make no mistake about that... I just don’t know if I can rough it with the two of you.”

Tobias clapped his hand against Ethan's shoulder before removing his backpack from the trunk.

“You’re full of shit,” he said, tossing Ethan his bag.

Bryce shielded his eyes to take a better look at the cabin. He had to admit that the bucolic setting was beautiful, ushering in a sense of tranquility that Boston could never deliver.

“The cabin does look really nice,” he observed.

Ethan shrugged with a wrinkled nose. “Looks smaller than I expected.”

Tobias pulled the lollipop out of his mouth, his face glowing like he had just won the jackpot. “Now, there are five words Ramsey has heard repeatedly throughout his life.”

He and Bryce broke into a fit of laughter while Ethan rambled about their juvenile behavior.

“Relax, old man,” Tobias teased. “It is small, but it’s not like we’ll be inside much anyway. Come on, let’s go set up.”

Ethan and Tobias lingered on the porch as Bryce stepped inside, but he returned in an instant.

“Uh, Tobias, are you sure this is the right cabin?”

“Well, the keys I gave you just opened the door, didn’t they? Of course, it’s the right cabin.” Noting the look on Bryce’s face, he continued. “What’s the matter, Lahela? Did you see a mouse?”

“Oh,” Bryce chuckled. “I wish.”

Ethan raised a brow at Bryce while Tobias stepped inside.

“Wait for it,” Bryce mouthed just before they heard...

“Oh, for fucks sake!!”

Ethan rushed into the cabin with Bryce trailing behind him, and his eyes went wide.

“Are you kidding me?” Ethan scowled. “One bed? What the hell did you do, Carrick? Rent the honeymoon suite?”

Tobias turned to his friend, lips twisted. “Who’d take anyone on a honeymoon here, Ramsey! Even you’re not that clueless.”

“You’re right, and I’m also not clueless enough to get us a cabin with ONE bed.”

Tobias ran his hand over his head with a sigh. “The listing said one single bed and two bunks!”

“Well,” Bryce simpered. “The listing lied.”

“I told you we should have just brought tents and sleeping bags,” Tobias admonished. “But noooo, you two couldn’t rough it!”

“Says the man with the luxury Range Rover,” Ethan smirked.

Ignoring him, Tobias placed his phone back into his pocket. “There’s no service here, but if you want, we can drive back down the to the main road. We passed a Motel 6; we could just stay there tonight if you like.”

“Yeah, I’m not about to head back down that death trap of a road in this weather!” Bryce stated.

“In this weather? It’s beautiful out,” Tobias said just before a loud thunderclap shook them. “Wait! What?” He gasped. “Where the hell did this come from! It was gorgeous out! There was no rain predicted, and... how?”

“What was that you said about not spending much time inside the cabin anyway?” Ethan mocked.

Tobias threw himself back on the bed. “This isn’t happening.”

“It’s all right,” Bryce said, trying to lighten the mood. “ “It’s just for two nights; we can handle that.”

“Maybe you can,” Ethan deadpanned. “I’m not so sure.”

“Well, unless you want to take my keys and drive yourself down the mountain in this monsoon, it doesn’t look like you’ll have much of a choice.”

~~~~~

The afternoon and evening looked different than they had anticipated. Envigorating hikes were replaced by several rounds of poker. An open campfire under the stars turned into hotdogs and baked beans prepared on the hotplate. It was as if a woodland fairy godmother had appeared and reversed her magic.

“I wonder what the girls are doing now,” Bryce asked forlornly.

Ethan pulled a chunk of fat out of the beans with a grimace. “Eating better than we are, that’s for sure!”

“All right!” Tobias snapped. “Enough of this. Hopefully, the rain will pass tonight, and we will have two days to enjoy the great outdoors. But tonight... let's make the best of it. There could be worse things than the three of us stuck in a cabin in the middle of nowhere with copious amounts of beer.”

“The beer will help,” Bryce agreed.

“As long as you two don’t overdo it,” Ethan said, popping a can open. “If either of you falls into a drunken stupor and pees in the bed tonight, we'll be returning to Boston with a lighter load."

“How are we going to sleep?” Bryce asked the question they had all been pondering. “What’s that, a full-size bed? How are the three of us going to fit on that?”

“It’s a queen-size,” Tobias corrected. “We’ll make do.”

“Do you have your sleeping bag, T?” Bryce asked. “Maybe one of us could sleep on the floor.”

“Negative,” he replied. “Once you two overruled tents, I had no reason to pack it.”

“I could just sleep on the floor anyway.”

“Bryce, you’ll freeze,” Ethan pointed out. “The temperature drops significantly during the night in these parts, and this place isn't exactly insulated."

“Yeah, and those cute little shorts and crop tops you bought won’t do a damn thing to keep you warm,” Tobias chortled.

Bryce let out a sigh. “I told you a beach weekend would have been better, but noooo....”

“Weren’t you the one saying it’s just two nights, we’ll survive?” Ethan yawned. “Look, it’s late, I’m exhausted, and I don’t want to freeze, so why don’t we just get this over with?”

“I’m with you,” a weary Tobias replied.

“All right, question. Who sleeps in the middle?”

Bryce's words stopped the other two men in their tracks.

“Well, I hadn’t thought of that,” Tobias snickered.

“This is going to be the longest night of my life,” Ethan groaned.

“Come on, princess,” Tobias winked. “You could do much worse than sharing a bed with two lookers like Lahela and me.”

“I mean, we’re all bi,” Bryce reminded. “It’s not like we’ve never shared a bed with a man before."

“That doesn’t mean I want to be sharing a bed with these two men,” Ethan said, gesturing furiously between his two friends.

“Look, I’m freaking tired,” Tobias interrupted. “I say we pick straws. Short straw gets the middle.”

“Works for me!” Bryce agreed.

No one waited for Ethan to reply, which was unfortunate since he picked the short straw.

“Motherfucker!” he cursed.

“Look,” Tobias pointed out. “None of us are going to sleep well tonight anyway, so what does it really matter.”

“Fine! You want the middle, then?”

“Nope!” Tobias said, claiming his spot against the wall. “I’m good.”

“Wait! That means I’ll be on the edge!” Bryce realized. “I’m going to end up on the floor!”

“Would you like the short stick?” Ethan offered.

“Mmmhh. Nah,” Bryce replied. “Just try not to push me off the bed."

The three men spent the next few minutes squiggling and shifting, doing their best to find a position that would be remotely comfortable for all, and the jokes kept coming, at least from Tobias and Bryce.

“Remember, Ramsey... if your hands get cold during the night, my butt cheeks are not pillows, all right?”

“Jesus Christ!” Ethan groused, rolling to his other side.

“What?” Bryce replied. “Do you think my butt cheeks are available? We can get you some socks for those hands of yours.”

Bryce and Tobias couldn't stop giggling as Ethan seethed between them.

“Come on, Ethan,” Tobias laughed. “You’re amongst friends, and at least you won’t freeze to death.”

“Sure won’t. You’re like a damn furnace! I felt like I needed to remove my clothes.”

“Oh, so you're getting fresh now?” Tobias teased, but Ethan wasn't remotely amused.

“Good night!!” He huffed.

“Sorry,” Bryce yawned. “But you walked right into that one.”

“GOOD NIGHT!”

And then something miraculous occurred; against all odds, the men managed to fall asleep.

~~~

When the sun rose, Bryce was the first to wake. He was already sitting in a folding chair near the window, eating a container of yogurt, when Ethan and Tobias began to stir.

“Good morning!” He chirped, as buoyant as the birds flying around the sunny sky. “It’s about time you're awake.”

“Why are you already up?” Tobias said, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

Ethan groaned as he threw his legs over the edge of the bed, attempting to stretch his sore muscles. “And how the hell are you not in pain!”

“The benefits of youth, old men!” Bryce laughed. “I really do need to get some friends my own age.”

“Yeah, screw you!” Tobias said, vaulting out of bed to prove a point, but he couldn't hold back an ouch moments later.

“You were saying?” Ethan mocked.

“Of course, I’m in pain!” Tobias shot back. “I can’t barely feel my arm anymore; you were lying on it all night.”

“Are you aware that you talk in your sleep?” Ethan snickered, completely changing the course of conversation.

"Wait... what?" Tobias turned around, the blood rushing from his face. “What...what did I say?”

“I don’t remember everything,” Ethan smirked. “But I’m pretty confident you proposed to me.”

“Yeah, right!” Tobias laughed nervously.

Bryce mindlessly scraped his yogurt container with his spoon. “Honestly, he’s not joking. You were going on and on about getting married.”

“Do you have something to share?” Ethan grinned.

“Well,” Tobias hesitated. “I guess if the cat’s out of the bag. I'm planning on proposing soon, just not to either of you fuckers.”

“You’re proposing to Casey,” Bryce gasped. “Oh my God, Olivia is going to lose her mind!”

“Yeah,” Ethan ran a hand down his neck. “Merida will probably be all over this, too.”

"If you wouldn't mind keeping this from them for the time being," Tobias pled. "It's not that I don't trust them, but..."

"No need to ask," Ethan smiled, shaking his friend's hand. "Congratulations, buddy. All joking aside, I couldn’t be happier for you.”

“Yeah,” Bryce agreed. “This is great news! When are you planning on doing it?”

“Next week, it’s the anniversary of the day we met. I don’t know if she remembers, but I do, so....”

“Do you think she knows?” Bryce asked.

“Nah,” Tobias smiled. “She doesn’t have a clue.”

“You're sure about that?” Ethan asked, preparing a cup of coffee.

“Pretty sure.... why?”

Ethan handed the steaming cup to Tobias with a wink. “Because, apparently.... you talk in your sleep.”

@choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfanfics

Tagging others separately.

#open heart #ethan ramsey #bryce lahela #tobias carrick #open heart fanfic #open heart fanfiction #open heart choices #choices open heart #choices fanfic #playchoices #playchoices fanfic #choices stories you play

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olsenmyolsen · 2 months

Text

Chapter Three: Meeting Wanda Maximoff

The Farmer's Daughter - (A WandaNat Story)

Masterlist

Summary: As Natasha gets into the groove of things, someone shows up on the farm.

Word Count: 1.5K

Content: Just Natasha working on the farm

Natasha's alarm went off a little before 6 am, and she found herself groaning and cursing as she did her best to wake up.

But the fence needed to be finished, and she didn't have someone shouting at her to get a move on or drop and give her twenty.

So that was a nice bonus, and Natasha took it with a smile; just as the dark of the night was slowly making way for the sunshine of the day, Natasha got up, went to the bathroom, and started to get dressed.

She decided to wear brown boots, canvas pants, and a green shirt with a few buttons down the front. Natasha looked good, but she was wondering if her clothes were always working farm clothes in disguise.

The struggle of a lesbian, she guessed with a shrug before exiting her tiny house, ready to start the day.

An hour later, Erik finally found Natasha as she was finishing up the fence behind the greenhouse.

"You know, just like with dinner, breakfast is always an option." He said as he walked up with two tumblers of coffee. One silver and one black. He stuck his arm with the black one out to Natasha.

"Thanks." She said as her hand wrapped around the black mug. "But coffee is good with me." Erik nodded. "I figured." His eyes drifted to the sliver chain around Natasha's neck. "Old habits and all, I bet." He said, and Natasha wasn't too sure how to answer him, so all she did was sip her coffee.

It wasn't amazing, but it was better than what was provided on base.

"The fence looks good." Erik took a step back and admired Natasha's work. She nodded. "Thank you." She cleared her throat. "I was going to finish this, put the tools back, and then work on egg collecting."

Erik hummed. "Well, good luck with that." He said as he turned his body to walk away. "Remember, they'll peck." He hollered back, and Natasha nodded to herself; she watched Erik get pecked ten times yesterday.

Not that she counted.

Plus, she had been to war. A couple of chickens couldn't be that bad.

"Stop it!" She yelled at a chicken that she named Kentucky Fried after it pecked at her gloved hands for what had to have been the sixteenth time since entering their pen.

This one, unlike the others, was very protective of its work, and Natasha fully understood why Erik glared at this one yesterday when she was being shown around.

"Keep that up, and you'll see eleven herbs and spices real soon." She said after her left boot was pecked at.

This banter or 'verbal abuse' continued until Natasha was finished collecting all the eggs for the day that she placed in containers for Erik to pick up later.

Erik, who drove by on his tractor a distance away, laughed at Natasha.

"Bye!" She waved and almost flipped off the one chicken as she exited the pen and entered the barn to let the cows out to roam and to move hay around.

As she watched the cows slowly walk away, she couldn't believe how different her first two days with the military had been.

She went from having nothing to a piece of something. A future Natasha could grasp onto. It wasn't glamorous, but neither was what Natasha was doing before.

Natasha sighed with a smile and walked out of the barn into the field. She sat in the grass and kept her eyes on the cows as her thoughts drifted.

And then her phone rang.

Natasha jumped slightly as she forgot she had the device on her.

She removed her gloves and got her phone out just in time to see one name on the screen: Clint 🏹

She hit the green button with a smile.

"Miss me already?" She answered with a smirk. Clint let out a sigh of relief. "Wishing I wasn't. What kind of friend doesn't tell me where they end up, Natasha? I thought you were dead."

Natasha's smile slowly started to fade. She realized she was speaking with, "I'm a parent, so I'm freaking out on you," Clint.

She sighed. "Take a breath, Barton." She said as she could hear him stop and listen. "I'm doing okay. I'm alive." Natasha said with a smile as she heard Clint breathe out.

"Still, a text would've been nice." He mumbled.

Natasha rolled her eyes. "Okay, Dad."

Clint chuckled. "So where did you end up?" Clint asked as a cow mooed in the distance, making Natasha laugh, much to Clint's confusion. "What?" He asked.

Natasha shook her head as her left hand moved through the long grass. "I found work." She said. "On a farm about three and a half hours from base." Clint shook his head and laughed. "It really is impossible for you to relax, isn't it?"

Natasha looked around from her spot on the ground, surrounded by cows. "It's not so bad." She said as Sparky barked and ran out of the Lehnsherr house. Past Natasha's place on the other side of the fence and down the road.

Natasha and Clint hummed, but for different reasons.

Natasha realized and listened as Clint moved the phone away from his ear as another person came to talk to him. Natasha could bet it was Fury, but he probably would've said hello to Natasha if it was him.

So the hushed whispers left her wanting answers before Clint eventually raised his phone back to his ear. "Gotta go, Nat."

Natasha heard the tone change in her friend.

"Okay." She understood. "Need me to call Laura or anything?" Natasha offered, but Clint shook his head no. "She's my next call. It looks like we're flying out tonight." He sighed, and silence filled the phone for a moment. "Can't wait to hear about all the ways you're not relaxing another time."

Natasha laughed. "Call me when you can. Stay safe, Hawkeye."

Clint laughed. "Will do, Romanoff."

A second later, the call ended, and Natasha didn't realize it, but her left hand had moved from the grass to the tags around her neck. Rubbing the metal with her index finger and thumb.

Natasha removed her fingers from the tags and pulled her phone away from her face. Her lock screen reappeared, and it was a picture of her and a blonde. Both wearing their military uniforms and cheesing at the camera.

It was from five years ago.

Clint took the picture using Kate's camera.

Natasha clicked the button on the side of her phone, so the screen went black as she sniffled her nose. She put the phone back into her pocket, and thanks to her settings, the picture would be gone the next time she tapped her phone.

But still, it felt nice to see a picture of her and her sister Yelena happy.

Natasha sniffled again before her face scrunched up, thanks to a particular smell. She slowly turned her body to the right and loudly groaned away the tears in her eyes before getting up.

"Couldn't do this anywhere else!?" She playfully yelled at the cow before walking up to its side. The cow mooed at Natasha and returned to eating grass as if nothing happened, forcing the redhead to laugh.

Natasha went to put back on her gloves, when suddenly the quiet countryside became loud as a Jeep without doors or a roof packed with a bunch of twenty-somethings came down the dirt road to Lehnsherr's house with a barking Sparky running behind it.

Natasha kept her eyes on the vehicle and noticed pairs of eyes glance at her as the car zoomed by.

A set of eyes hidden behind sunglasses stared at Natasha the longest.

Natasha walked down the grassy plain towards the house as the Jeep came to a stop and parked. Natasha figured the packed SUV wasn't a threat, but that didn't mean she wasn't a little curious.

So, as Natasha hopped over the fence and started making her way down the dirt road, the back left car door flew open, and nothing appeared until a set of long tan legs with blush-colored mid-calf boots touched the ground.

Natasha's green eyes worked up and down the leg multiple times before the rest of the body exited the vehicle with a bounce in their step.

Denim shorts that didn't leave much to the imagination were the next thing Natasha's eyes focused on before the color yellow of the long cotton blouse stole Natasha further and further up the woman's gorgeous body. Her hair was next, and Natasha was in love with the look. Brunette hair with blonde highlights flowed down her back.

The closer Natasha got, the more she saw the definition in the mysterious woman's figure until she turned around when Natasha was about ten feet away.

The person kept their eyes hidden behind their sunglasses, but the rest of their face was exposed. And it was wonderful. To Natasha, her skin looked soft, and she had a jawline Natasha was immediately impressed by and jealous of.

With the car full of people watching them, the mysterious person kept their pink lips closed tight until she brought a hand up to her sunglasses and blessed Natasha with the sight of the prettiest green eyes she had ever seen.

Natasha kept her mouth closed, but her breathing changed.

The pink lips separated themselves, and when she spoke, Natasha knew she was fucked. "Who are you?"

dividers by @/benkeibear

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mcdonaldsnumberone · 11 months

Text

DELICIOUS!

with a certain biscuit-themed day settling upon him, kaiser wants to use it as an excuse to win a kiss from you. will pocky day end with your very own happy ending, or does kaiser need to prove himself further?

gender neutral reader

if you enjoyed reading this fic, please consider donating to providing aid in palestine!

Kaiser found life in Japan fascinating. This was one of the many perks of being a globally recognized soccer star like him: he got to travel the world and take in the different cultures it had to offer all while doing the very thing that got him onto this stage in the first place.

And boy, was he enjoying the time in Blue Lock. On the rare occasion that he got to go outside of the facility and spend some free time doing whatever he pleased, Kaiser made sure he got the full quintessential tourist experience. He ate a great deal of Japanese cuisine, tried out some hobbyist things, even somehow wound up in a maid cafe with the Bastard Munchen team, and reminisced on the everyday lives of the locals.

But one thing he found himself especially entranced by was all the different things he could exploit in order to get closer to you. If there was one thing Kaiser was, it was persistent in making sure he got what he wanted, and if that meant using every little weapon in his arsenal, then he was sure to play all of his cards out onto the figurative table.

You could only imagine his delight when he learned that a very special day in November was quickly approaching and soon to be upon him.

“Darling!” An all-too-familiar sickly sweet voice rang out against your eardrums, and a sharp wave of thorny annoyance shot down your spine. You had half a mind to bolt for the nearest exit, but the next few words stopped you dead in your tracks. “Don’t run away from me! I have something fun for us!”

Fun? That definitely couldn’t mean anything good.

You mentally steeled yourself for another very irritating interaction with the smitten striker, equal parts exasperated by his over-the-top courtship and flattered that someone like him would try so hard to endear himself to you. Was his interest in you one of genuine romantic intent? Or did he want you as a plaything to toy with and then cast aside when he was done?

You had discern carefully whether or not Kaiser was a frog in the well or a true fairytale prince.

“What is it now, Kaiser?” You grumble unimpressed. His eager footsteps halted right next to you, and the blond took a quick second to catch his breath before shoving a box into your face.

“Ta-daaa!!” He announced, shaking it in front of you. “I learned about something interesting the other day, and I just had to do it with you. Surely you wouldn’t mind! Noa was always so insistent that I learn about Japanese culture while in Blue Lock, and boy, am I glad that I did my research!”

You practically swatted his hand his hand away, and you squinted your eyes to take a better look at the small box in front of you. The bright colors, vibrantly decorated biscuits on the box, the large decorative letters spelling out the words ‘POCKY’ in white old-fashioned text…

The realization hit you like a truck.

“Let’s play the pocky game together, darling,” Kaiser cooed, and he batted his eyelashes at you charmingly. “Isn’t that what you guys do for Pocky Day? The nice clerk at the convenience store told me all about it, and for the full immersion effect, I just have to try it with you!”

You’re less than impressed. You can see right through Kaiser’s little game as if it were made of glass. He wants a kiss from you, and playing the pocky game is the perfect opportunity to do so.

You straighten your lips, making sure to give the boy the most stone-faced expression you could muster up. “What makes you think that I’d want to play the game with you? Ask someone else in the program. It’s not like I’m the only person around.”

Kaiser made a downtrodden face. “It’s not the same! The point of the game is to play it with someone you want to kiss! Do you really think I’d want to get a kiss from someone like Yoichi? Eugh, just thinking about it makes me want to brush my teeth-”

You bit back the temptation to tell him that the thought of kissing him makes you want to vomit too. It would be easy to turn him down and leave him standing in the dust, but you know all too well how persistent Kaiser could be. Knowing him, he’d probably tail after you like a magnet 24/7, begging and begging you with the biggest puppy eyes he can conjure up for you to just give in and kiss him let him have the proper cultural immersion he deserves!

Or worse, he complains to Noa, who then tells Ego, and you end up in trouble for not catering to every whim the players might have.

“...Fine. Just once though. And if you mess up and break the pocky, I’m not letting you try again,” you resolved. In all honesty, it could be a lot worse. Despite Kaiser’s shithole of a personality, it wasn’t like he was outwardly mean to you nor would worming your way to his massive paycheck hurt your prospects in any way.

Kaiser lit up as if it were his birthday, and he grabbed your wrist. “To my room then! Oh, I promise I won’t let you down!”

You barely had time to regain your bearings before Kaiser basically throws you on top of his bed. His eyes sparkled with so much life that you would have thought that he had won the World Cup instead of playing the pocky game. You pushed yourself to the edge of his bed, swinging your feet over the mattress and sitting down placidly as the blond ripped the box open and procured a single piece of pocky.

“Ah, I’m so nervous…,” Kaiser admitted as he sat himself down right next to you. “I always daydreamed about what it would be like to kiss you, and to think that the answer would be right here all along! You have no clue the effect you have on me.”

“Uh- In technicality, you haven’t earned the kiss yet-,” you corrected him.

“Whatever. We both know how this is going to end.” The blond expertly placed the biscuit end of the pocky in his mouth, carefully balancing it in between his pretty lips. He glanced up at you expectantly, and you let out a deep breath before moving your head so that your teeth caught on the chocolate end of the pocky.

‘Here goes nothing,’ you resigned internally.

Making sure not to break the delicate stick, you inched your mouth forward. Your teeth broke cleanly into a bit more of the pocky, and the sugary-sweet taste of pocky coated the inside of your cheeks. You’d forgotten how good little treats like this were; in between your responsibilities and being chased around by Kaiser, it wasn’t like you had much down time for yourself.

The German, on the other hand, was fully engrossed in the task at hand. You had fully expected him to get impatient and break the pocky prematurely, but just like how you were inching bit-by-bit forward on the pocky, he was making good progress as well. His handsome face was scrunched up slightly in concentration, focusing everything he had on the game so that he wouldn’t squander his precious chance to kiss his crush.

You had to give credit where credit was due. Kaiser was, in fact, a hard worker and a skilled athlete. When he put his mind on something, he was going to get it. As much of a pain in the butt as it was for you, you did have to respect that tough tenacity.

Your lips closed around the next little bit of the biscuit. It tasted really good, enough to almost distract you from your situation. Kaiser’s face was so close to yours, and for the first time, you couldn’t help but notice all of the finer details on his face. He was always so horrendously vain, taking great pride in his hand-drawn red eyeliner, his two-toned hair, even his signature blue rose tattoo. But apart from all of his vanity, he was straight up a handsome man.

The tension between the two of you was at an all-time high, with both of you concentrating fully on the task at hand. You swore that he was stealing your breath away with every bite he took, and your heart fluttered. He was too good—was he actually going to win a kiss from you? It wasn’t like you had any complaints about giving him one silly kiss, but when he was this close, enough to make your cheeks heat up and your breath shake, it felt like your own mind was betraying you.

Another crunch only furthered the flustered thoughts in your brain. He was just a bite or two away, and when he glanced his azure eyes towards you, your head nearly went blank. He was a piece of shit, sure, but he was still pretty, and the intrusive thoughts practically yelling at you to simply take another bite and give in were almost deafening.

Kaiser took another bite, and that closed the distance between the two of you. You only had enough time to gasp and flicker your eyes up to his face, and before you knew it, the feeling of his plush lips on yours and his hands cupping your face was all you could register.

He kissed you.

A surprised, strangled cry bubbled up from the back of your throat before it died out. His cool fingers held your face in place, and you couldn’t help but melt into the touch a little. How could it be that his touches were so sweet when he was so prickly? The sugary taste of chocolate and biscuits lingered on the tip of your tongue, and when Kaiser sighed happily against your lips, all you wanted was for him to keep kissing you.

His thumbs brushed across the apples of your cheeks. Mouths moving together, your heart hammered inside your chest. You knew that this wasn’t the first time that Kaiser somehow managed to stubbornly wiggle his way into your heart, and if the soft way he was kissing you was telling anything, it was that this wouldn’t be the last time either. He was kissing you like lovers would, so could you fault yourself for swooning and falling for him a little?

He pulled away before you could lean anymore forward, leaving you dazed and staring breathlessly into his eyes. The corners of his lips curled upwards into a snooty smirk. “...Looks like I did manage to win a kiss from you, darling. What do you think?”

“You’re insufferable, Kaiser,” you manage to eke out, wanting to turn away to hide your embarrassed face. Damn him and his charismatic ways! You wished he would disintegrate into nothingness right then and there. That would definitely solve so many of your problems.

He laughed heartily at your mousy comment. “What’s wrong? Cat got your tongue?”

Heat flooded your face, but you couldn’t bring yourself to answer him. It was way too easy for him to play games with your heart, and it didn’t help knowing that he was so sincere about winning you over too. You were determined to make him prove that he was worth your time, but with every little interaction like this, you had to admit that your determination was crumbling bit by bit.

You cursed both your internal weakness and him for being the smooth talker he was. He was simply waiting for the right moment to pounce, to make you his and put an end to this back-and-forth, to make you his beloved partner, someone for him to dote on endlessly and to be doted on in return.

“Well, if you aren’t sure…,,” Kaiser grinned at you like a smug cat, his deft fingers diving into the box to bring out another piece of unbroken pocky, “...How about another round of the pocky game then?”

Surely, that was an offer you couldn’t bring yourself to refuse.

if you enjoyed reading this fic, please consider donating to providing aid in palestine!

#blue lock #bllk #blue lock x reader #bllk x reader #michael kaiser #x reader #my writing #happy pocky day :3

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zer0pm · 1 year

Text

Imagine Luis casually claiming that he’s a better shot than you. Not going to take that lying down, you challenge him in the shooting range.

“You certainly know your way around a gun, my friend.”

A short subconscious grunt was given as an acknowledgement, you were too engrossed in cleaning your firearm to fully engage him.

The Spanish man continues with a pensive nod, “One can see that you’ve taken many shots, as well as many lives. You’re a force to be reckoned with for certain.”

“Thanks, Luis.” you reply with nary a hint of interest in the conversation. Was there a point to all of this praise, you wondered but did not want to ask aloud, minding your own business.

“It’s such a shame really,” Luis shrugs, leaning against one of the wooden barrels beside you. He then comments nonchalantly, “Your accuracy leaves much to be desired. Even I could do better.”

The room suddenly falls into silence. Tension hangs by a dainty pin threatening to drop. You were no longer tinkering with your weapon. Leon and Ashley, who were having their own friendly chat on the side, stopped talking to stare at you two intently. Even the Merchant, who possesses a socially animated personality, went completely quiet. The mysterious man who possesses questionably limitless contraband leans far over his table to observe the interaction between you and the cheeky Spaniard with great interest. Or rather, he was interested to see your reaction. The stillness drags on. Then finally, you rise up from your seat. A stony expression hardened on your face as you share eye contact with the dark-haired man beside you.

“Shooting range. Now.”

The elevator ride was just as tense, only the two of you were aboard inside. Leon and Ashley stayed behind for reasons undisclosed, but if you had to take a guess, they didn’t want to see the potential feud between you and Luis escalate in a cramped, underground space. Speaking of Luis. The instigator of this game stood on the opposite side of the shaft from you. He had an infuriatingly smug grin on his lips and a confident, carefree air emanating from his relaxed posture.

Normally, Luis presented himself as an amiable and charming man with a witty sense of humor that bordered on teasing depending on the context provided to him amidst conversation. You haven’t interacted with him as much as Leon or Ashley, too focused on survival to even consider forging any meaningful bonds. The few instances that you have engaged him, the man left a good enough impression for you to tolerate his presence. If you were to truly be honest with yourself, however, you were drawn to him. He had that sort of magnetic personality that you secretly could not get enough of. Your heart flutters whenever he focuses his attention solely on you, whether it be a seductive remark or a teasing joke, he made you forget for a moment of the difficulties you were facing. But you didn’t have it in you to reciprocate out of fear of growing attached what with certain death looming over you all constantly. So instead, you cherished those moments in silence, stealing glances his way every once in awhile when you thought he wasn’t looking.

Unfortunately, this time you’re looking at him for an entirely different reason. Daggers in your eyes pointed straight at the Spaniard. You’ve saved this man against from numerous plaga encounters. He knows what you are capable of. And for him to say that? The nerve.

Luis catches you glaring at him and he shamelessly winks back at you. You scoff and return your attention to your gloved hands, trying not to let this man dig under your skin further than he already has.

The elevators descent comes to a halt and you exit as soon as the doors ping open with Luis following not too far behind. The Merchant was already down at the range even though he was up on the ground level when you took the shaft. At this point, you never questioned the masked man or how he works. Some mysteries are better left unsolved. The real mystery here, however, is Luis’ sudden (and uncalled for) bout of disrespect for your combative skills. He thoughtlessly casted your abilities into doubt in front of your peers and in such a casual manner no less. What else could you do to restore your pride but challenge him and bring him down a peg?

“Welcome, strangers!” The Merchant greets you both jovially once the two of you reached him. “Today, we will be playing a new game. A game of skill and finesse, your patience and speed. Just like any other, really- but with a twist! A competition between two fine patrons of the gunslinging arts!”

“No competition,” you quickly corrected with crossed arms and a deadpan tone. “Just putting someone in their rightful place.”

Luis, who took his spot beside you, merely maintained his easygoing demeanor, not at all bothered by your attitude with him.

“Ooh! Let me guess, is it beneath you? That can be easily arranged. No contest needed.” He chimes in suggestively.

An annoyed grunt escapes your throat, you pinch the bridge of your nose to lessen the irritation bubbling inside. “Get on with it, Merch. Please.”

“That’s the spirit!” the mysterious vendor claps. “Let’s establish the ground rules, then. Firearm of choice?”

The Spaniard waves his hand to you. “You decide, I insist.”

“Such a gentleman,” you roll your eyes. “Pistols. Figured this is fair since you’re only barely capable of handling one type of weapon.”

The dark-haired man pouts exaggeratedly, “Such harsh words for a squire.”

The Merchant ignores him, nodding at your choice, “Pistols it is. Game conditions?”

“Doesn’t matter to me.” Boredom dripping from your lips, “You figure this out, Serra.”

“So confident, my friend. Very well. Let’s see…” Luis grabs his chin between his fingers, appearing to ponder heavily before lifting one ringed finger.

“Quick fire. One shot per target. Every target will be timed for five seconds. Every rest period in between will last just as long. A penalty will apply for each missed shot. Victor is decided when penalties can no longer be given to either player. Or one admits defeat. Naturally, I’ll decide what these penalties shall be. It’ll be a surprise, just to make things fun.”

Your brow lifts at these terms. With how he delivered them without a single stutter, one would think that he thought about this considerably. They were unusual too and you could not help the gnawing sense of undeniable intrigue and due wariness from showing upon your face. The last part stood out to you as the most interesting of the rules. What sort of penalties were going to be delivered? What does this man have up his sleeve?

The Merchant laughs boisterously in agreement, evidently deeming the terms to be acceptable for the little competition. He turns his head towards you once more. “Any contest?”

With a shake of your head, you confirm with cold confidence, “None. I won’t miss.”

Luis’ grin doesn’t falter at your words. If anything, it only grew wider.

The masked man continues, “And the prize?”

“Ha, easy.” Deadly eyes shoot at Luis with threatening intensity, “You eat your words and…” A pointed finger gestures towards his upper body.

“The jacket is mine.”

A gasp leaves Luis’ throat, genuine surprise glints in his widened eyes. “You’d really strip a knight from his armor?”

It was no secret that the man loved to keep appearances, his jacket being the main focal point to represent his sense of style as well as serving to draw wandering eyes towards the rest of his form. Taking it from him would be a considerable hit to his confidence and it was not at all because you were curious to see how the white button shirt underneath fitted his body.

The memory of defined muscle sneaks into the forefront of your traitorous mind. You once spotted a distinctive scar peeking beneath the fabric and asked about it. Luis, always taking the extra mile, pulled open his jacket and shirt to not only put the colored scar in full display, but the rest of his chiseled upper torso as well. You had to rip your eyes away at the time to hide the blush that was burning quickly on your cheeks, disguising it with a scoff of disgust. Ever since then, however, you couldn’t get the tantalizing sight out of your thoughts.

With a furious shake of your head, you give him an indifferent, level response, “Take it or leave it.”

After a thoughtful moment, the man sighs in consensus. “Alright then. But if I win- you must admit that I’m the better marksman.”

You waited a moment before blinking, “That’s it?”

“Eso es todo, my friend.” Luis nods, “A simple prize, no?”

Without further ado, the competition went underway. After setting aside a pair of handguns and enough ammo to take down an entire country, the Merchant strides out of the range. He also disclosed that the target mechanisms have already been set to Luis’ specific conditions with increased difficulty as the game goes on. Not only this, but the targets are color coordinated to match your respective gun handles. Yours are blue; Luis’, red. Again, you didn’t question how the Merchant achieved this feat in such an impossibly short amount of time.

“Range is set to go. Shooting a target that isn’t yours, missing a target, or taking no shot at all will count as a penalty,” the masked man advised. “Press the button to begin… and have lots of fun, strangers. Ehehehe!” His characteristic cackling echoes off the walls even as the elevator doors closed. Now, it was just you and Luis.

The clicks of a gun cocking brings you back to the present. “Prepárate, my friend.” Luis’ voice is laced with determination as he spoke to you. “It’s game time!”

Without warning, a swift hand slams the button and the first target quickly pops into view. Blue. Frantically, you take aim and fire. Although you weren’t in a readied stance, the bullet pierces through the blue-striped pirate cutout nearly at the edge. The timer nearly hits the last second. A close call.

You whip your head at the Spaniard in exacerbation. “That was dirty!”

His face dons a playful look. “Why so angry, my friend? You were successful, no?”

Your glare sends him running. The timer resets and a red target appears. Compared to you, Luis seemed prepared as he takes his shot and hits the target with ease.

Timer resets, blue. Timer resets, red. It went on like this for a few rounds. The cutouts popped up in random spots at close range only to be shot back down immediately. It was too easy. You use a rest period to reload before the timer resets once more and a red pirate whooshes into view. This one was placed much farther than the rest and was surrounded by multiple sailor cutouts. When the Merchant said that the difficulty would increase over time, you didn’t consider that he would turn the notch by this much. Luis would have to fire at an angle to hit the target and avoid the other obstacles while also being agile enough to hit it before the countdown.

A grimace curves down upon Luis’ lips, he jumps to a spot and lifts the pistol quickly. Ready, aim, fire!

He misses, lead hitting the back of the range with a resonating sound.

A snort almost escapes you and you couldn’t help but taunt him. “What? Feelin’ the heat already, Luis?”

Luis looks at you with the same unwavering smile. “Just warming up, actually. Don’t you worry.”

The man pulls his rings off his fingers and sets them atop the wooden counter. The two of you then switched places and a thought comes to mind. What is his penalty? There’s nothing else on the range that would identify as a scoring system. Perhaps an even harder target to hit? That seems rather punishing. You couldn’t ponder over this any further as your turn came up.

Timer resets. Blue target glides in, sailor cutouts surrounding them as well. This time, however, the angle was easy to spot and you didn’t have to move from your spot to take the shot. It falls back with a satisfying ping upon hit.

“Nice one!” Luis praises. It was genuine, devoid of his characteristic witty drawl. You couldn’t help but mutter a low thanks. Switching spots again, the competition continues. The man manages to find his groove once more and the both of you fell into a good rhythm between shots.

You will not lie, this was kind of fun. Luis truly was a decent shot and seeing him like this, focused and different from his usual suave demeanor that he exhibits like a tattoo on his sleeve, grows within you a newfound form of respect and admiration. He was pulling you to him all over again and he wasn’t even trying.

Timer resets. Red target. More sailors. And they’re all moving! Luis didn’t have the time to follow the pattern of all of their movements and fires blindly. He hits a sailor and mutters a half-hearted curse before proceeding to remove his shoes and socks.

“Luis, what are you doing-”

“No time for any questions. It’s your move.” The man motions you to take your stance and indeed a blue target flies in on the far end. Thankfully it slid about from the ceiling and became an easy shot despite it moving at a fast pace. Your shot lands successfully. As you switch places with Luis again, the gnawing question returns-

What is the penalty?

Luis is the only one that has been missing and nothing seems to have happened. The rounds have gotten harder for certain, but your targets have been set with the same difficulty. How is it shown that he is losing? Again, you didn’t have the time to question it as your turn came up soon enough.

Timer resets, blue target. Shot is fired, it’s a hit.

Timer resets, red target. Shot is fired, it’s a miss.

Luis exhales deeply from his chest. At first, you thought he was frustrated but your ears catch undertones of relief which you could not deduce until you see him unzip his signature jacket and shrug the leather off his shoulders.

“What the hell is this, Luis?”

“Ah this? The penalties for missing. Was it not obvious when I removed my other effects?”

Timer resets, blue target. Nothing.

It dawned on you in full force what this whole game was really all about. You thought it a genuine competition, a battle of egos. However, it became blatantly clear that Luis was shooting on a different range altogether. And he tricked you into playing with him.

You gaped in bewilderment. It was then replaced with embarrassed aggravation. “You’re an idiot. I’m not playing this stupid game. I’m out of here.”

Just as you were about to enter the parlor where the elevator was, Luis speaks up. “You can leave, sure. Pero, you’ll first have to admit that I’m the better marksman.”

Timer resets, red target.

Swiftly you turn back to him, your tone seething with heat. “You’ve missed a few shots while I’ve missed none. What makes you think-”

Bam!

The bullet cleanly hits the moving target from a range that should have required eyes. But the Spaniard was looking at you this whole time, wearing a confident (and infuriating) grin. You were speechless.

“If I remember correctly, you didn’t take the last shot. ¿Sí?”

This man is going to be the end of you one day. But damn was that a good hit. Renewed determination and excitement flows through your body. You take off one glove with your teeth and spit it at the ground before practically shoving the man out of your spot with your now bare hand. You can hear Luis’ cheeky chuckle behind you. Your attitude towards him may have started cold, but it is he who is making you shiver now.

Timer resets, blue target. Shot is fired.

These things were getting harder and harder to hit. Both of you are barely getting along. Luis was doing well enough though. Reduced to just his pants and shirt, he kept up his momentum. You, however, were not faring just as well. Now that you know the real game you were playing, you became undeniably anxious and it showed in your aim. You missed a few shots and had to shed your shoes, socks, remaining glove, and jacket. The only comfort you took from this was that you were relieving yourself from the unbearable heat permeating within the room.

Shot is fired. No hit. Blue target still standing.

Now it was Luis’ turn to taunt. “¿Qué? You missed? Is everything alright, my good friend?”

You ignore him out of spite and tugged at the hem of your top. As you pull the fabric over your head, your ears catch an appreciative whistle nearby. Once your shirt was completely off, you whip your head back to sharply glare at the shameless man who did not hide his appraisal of you. Grey eyes run along the length of your form slowly, lingering upon your newly exposed skin. There was no denying the desire in his eyes. It didn’t leave even as the timer restarted and a red target appeared.

He didn’t take the shot.

It was the perfect opportunity to mock him back, but nothing comes out. In fact, neither of you said anything for the longest time. The only sounds in the range were the pings of the timer and the cardboard targets popping in and out- both effectively ignored and zoned out.

Luis lifts his hands to unbutton his white shirt and throws it atop his jacket. He was bare from his neck down to his waist. Sweat glistened on his well-built chest, the hard muscles of his arms flexing as he stretched. He was probably the hottest thing you’ve ever seen in your life and he was looking straight at you when you finally found the courage to meet his burning stare. The heavy weight of his grey gaze pressed something deep and carnal within your soul.

After what felt like an eternity, the man picks up his jacket from the ground and moves over to one of the sturdy wooden barrels in the room. He leans against it before facing you once again and speaks in an intimately gruff tone.

“Tú ganas. You win.”

Luis stretches out a strong arm, signature jacket in hand. All you did was stare. Looking back and forth between his rugged face and the fine article of clothing he held.

When you didn’t make a move or say anything, he offers again, “Well? Are you going to claim your prize?”

Time marches on, accompanied by silence. Then finally, the floorboard creaks meaningfully under your stride towards him. Luis’ jacket is smacked out of his hand.

It laid forgotten for a long time.

#luis serra #luis serra navarro #luis serra x reader #luis serra imagine #resident evil 4 #if a man twirls into a range like this i would just let him win #why couldn’t they let Luis shoot targets with us 😩#my writing #gender neutral reader #re4 remake #re4 luis #resident evil imagines #zer0pm imagine #long post #this took far too long so I hope it came out okay #will edit as needed #long read #resident evil 4 remake #resident evil x reader

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crazyfandomluver · 11 days

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*clears throat and leans into the mic* oc update. *disappears*

Hey!

So. I figured out a bit more about my shadow company oc, and I need to share it so here’s what it is:

I decided I didn’t want him to be a soldier, we already have plenty of those, and I know we already have a medic. I was originally thinking about making him a cook, because someone has to cook for all this hungry babies, right??? WRONG. They can make their own food for themselves and for others. What these lil fellas really need, is some gosh dang THERAPY. So he’s gonna be a therapist and help his precious buddies😌

As another thing relating to therapy, he’s pretty adamant about them not bottling up their feelings, and finding some way to unleash their feelings. If they don’t want to talk about it, he’s turned an empty office room into a rage room where they can safely destroy things (The walls do not count PIXEL. You will break your fist, PIXEL.) My oc has made sure to provide safety gear, and has had soldiers bring back items from the war zone so that the soldiers can take care of pent up energy.

However, if they DO want to talk about it, he would love to sit down and talk with them! Nothing will be shared outside of his office, and he makes sure that they can feel as comfortable as they can.

He’s also REALLY good with his hands. In a crafty way, of course. He’ll often spend most of his free time making plushies, pillows, bean bags, and other things for soldiers. He’s very skilled, and very sneaky about finding out what soldiers would like, in ways ranging from having others ask about it, to sneaking the question into the end of a session. He’ll often make something for someone while they’re on a mission, and then when they come back, he’ll either give it to them personally, or they’ll find it on their bunk with a little note :) Unfortunately due to the danger that’s normally present on missions, there has been a few times where he’ll be waiting outside of the transport vehicle with the thing he made for them, watching for the soldier to exit, only to find out that they died on the mission. He knows how to handle his own grief of course, but that doesn’t make it hurt any less.

I had started thinking about what I wanted his first name to be, (because he’s not a soldier so he doesn’t have a callsign or a number) and the first name that came to mind was Adam, and I couldn’t think of anything else so… he finally has a name now! 🥳 I also decided that his last name will be Takker, which is pronounced ‘Tah-care’

Also, here’s a plushie I decided that he would make based off this dog toy that I found!

Plushie Grandpa Russell the Opossum!! Of course, the head wouldn’t be made of rubber, but I’m sure you get the idea 😅 This is just one of the things that Adam would make, including bean bags and other things. He’s also good at painting and stuff and has even drawn on his knife that he has for self defense so it’s a neat little custom decal knife ^^

I feel like he would definitely enjoy having a family, he in fact has a sweet wife who works part time on weekends and bakes him things to take to work and to his friends, and one adorable little girl who he brings to work on ‘bring your kid to work’ day. Her name is Asher, and she carries around this little unicorn plushie that Adam made for her 🥰

I will eventually draw him. (Eventually could be anywhere from today to 5 years later)

@pampanope @mrsphillipgraves @whitewolfmystery @theseareregularthoughts

#Adam Takker (Shadow Company OC)#shadow company #cod shadow company #shadow company oc #phillip graves #cod modern warfare #cod mw2 #cod mw3 #cod #call of duty #pixel (cod oc)#The reason why I saved his name for last was because I started working on this #went onto something else #And came back after I had decided on his name and was too lazy to rearrange the order of things

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rahuratna · 4 months

Text

Get that Bread, Sir

Written for the Foodies and Goodies challenge, created by the amazing @tsukimefuku !

Ijichi hummed tunelessly, his fingers tapping out a rhythm on the steering wheel. Today was going to be a relatively stress-free day, a rarity in his line of work. And it was a Monday too. A stress-free Monday … practically unheard of! He owed it all to his overly diligent handling of the paperwork from the missions last week. He’d put in some overtime and managed to complete all outstanding tasks before the end of the day on Friday.

Friday afternoon had seen him exhausted, but happy and accomplished. He’d even managed to enjoy his weekend. And today … well. Nanami had requested his assistance on a mission in a quiet suburb, located an hour away from Shinjuku. The research had been run-of-the-mill and the file he’d compiled was handed over to Nanami with confidence that the information would guide him well.

Now, all he had to do was ensure that Nanami reached each location on time and make sure that the hard working first grade sorcerer had something to eat when he returned to the car. Speaking of which …

Ijichi checked his watch and nodded. It was almost lunch time. Nanami would probably complete his work at the marked location within the hour. It was time to go and buy him a meal.

Setting the car in gear, he pulled away from the kerb and drove slowly through the town centre, searching for any restaurants or seven-elevens that looked promising. Ijichi knew that Nanami preferred sandwiches, but was also partial to most food, provided that the ingredients were of good quality. He exclaimed softly as he spotted a small, but neatly kept deli on the corner, adjoining a bakery to the right. It looked like the perfect place to buy Nanami what he preferred.

Pulling up, he parked and hopped out, glancing up at the awning over the deli. It read “Sugimoto’s Slice of the Day”. The small board standing outside advertised that day’s specials: a pork cutlet sandwich, served with salad and a free coffee, and a baked cheese and corn with a pickled garnish and tea. Ijichi’s mouth watered at the thought of the cheese and corn on a cold day like this. He was also sure that Nanami would appreciate the sandwich.

Tugging slightly as his scarf, Ijichi pushed open the door of the deli, a small bell over the entryway tinkling musically as he made his way in. There were a few people in the shop, and he had obviously missed the lunchtime rush. He ordered his cheese and corn at the counter, turning to browse the shelves as he waited. He found some delicious looking croissants, along with a selection of freshly baked madeleines that he had always been partial to. Searching further, he breathed out a small sigh of relief when he saw that there was still one of the pork cutlet sandwiches left. As much as there were other options, this one looked particularly succulent.

As he reached for the sandwich, the bell over the door rang once again. Someone brushed brusquely past him and snatched the sandwich off the shelf, the same one he had been about to grasp. Ijichi turned, indignant, but the sudden hush that had descended over the store gave him pause. The person who had grabbed the sandwich was a stunning woman in a fitted maroon top and dark jeans, the sparkling diamond earrings she wore offset against her lush raven hair. She was obviously known in the area, because the quiet in the store was quickly broken by whispers and glances in her direction. The woman in question was looking at Ijichi as if he were a worm that had crawled out from under a rock.

“Problem?” she questioned, archly.

Now, Ijichi was normally a well-mannered, placid man who would not court trouble of any kind. Under other circumstances, he may have backed down and exited the store without comment, but there was something about this woman’s manner of speech and the way she looked at him, with that small, mocking smile, that rubbed him the wrong way. Not to mention, Ijichi had had to face down Gojo on a daily basis at work. Whoever this lady was, she certainly wasn’t in the league of the strongest sorcerer of modern times. This fact was what made Ijichi’s posture straighten, and his brows draw together.

“Yes, ma’am, there is a problem.”

She had been half turning away, but his words stopped her in place. Turning to him, one of her perfectly drawn eyebrows raised so high it almost disappeared into her hairline.

“And what, pray tell, may that be?”

“I was about to take that sandwich when you grabbed it. In a very ill-mannered way, might I add. I’d appreciate it if you put that sandwich down.”

She looked at him incredulously.

“Do you know who I am?”

The whispers around them were growing in volume. Ijichi’s mouth drew into a stubborn line.

“No, I’m afraid I don’t.”

The woman uttered a sharp bark of laughter. She didn’t bother responding to Ijichi, merely jerking her head at the burly man who seemed to be her companion. Ijichi noted that the man carried what looked like high-end filming equipment, an expensive video camera in his hand. ‘Muscles’, as Ijichi dubbed him in his mind, turned and shoved his bulk behind the woman, allowing her to progress to the counter unhindered.

Oh no. No, no. Not today.

Ijichi was not quite sure what came over him then. Perhaps it was the fact that they were in a small town which he was not likely to visit again. Perhaps it was the fact that none of the other sorcerers or any of his work colleagues were nearby. Maybe the miso soup he’d eaten for breakfast contained some special ingredient that gave him daring.

Grabbing one of Muscle’s elbows, Ijichi manoeuvred past him with ease, his sorcerer training coming in handy. In the same motion, he snatched the sandwich out of the woman’s hand, giving her no time to protest before he slapped some money down on the counter, grabbed his order of cheese and corn, and dashed out the door.

“Hey! You – “

“What the – “

“Get back here!”

“How dare you! Satou, get him!

For all their posturing, Ijichi was a lot faster than Muscles, who he now knew as Satou. By the time people had been pushed out of the way and the bakery door slammed open, Ijichi was already behind the wheel, pulling away from the kerb, swinging the steering expertly. In his rearview mirror he saw the woman grab the video camera away from her companion as they clambered into a white van with some kind of mural on the side. He noted that she had lifted the camera, from where she sat in the passenger seat, and seemed to be filming his car.

Oh no, you don’t.

Accelerating away, Ijichi took one hand off the wheel, raising his index and middle finger in front of him.

“Emerge from the darkness, blacker than darkness … “

Of all the jujutsu techniques, summoning a veil was the one that Ijichi was most proficient at. Although not possessing a huge amount of cursed energy, control and manipulation of the little he had had always been his strength. He could manipulate cursed energy to the point that he could make smaller, condensed curtains over objects and people of his choice. He used that ability now to shroud his car, such that any identifying factors would be impossible to record on camera.

Eat that, lady.

The country roads were winding and empty, allowing Ijichi to use his far superior driving skills to navigate the tricky turns and sharp bends with ease. Although his pursuers would probably be far more familiar with the area, they were no match for a Jujutsu Tech assistant determined to leave them in the dust. Ijichi eventually lost them, pulling to a stop in slightly concealed cul-de-sac. He consulted his GPS, nodding in satisfaction when he realised that he was not far from Nanami’s pick up point.

Emerging slowly from the cul-de-sac, Ijichi drove to Nanami’s location. Standing tall and intimidating in his longer-length warm coat, blonde hair gleaming in the winter sun, Nanami cut a distinctive figure standing on the sidewalk. Ijichi hoped that nobody would connect their arrival in town with the … incident.

Seeing the car, Nanami raised a hand and approached, clambering into the back seat. He exhaled heavily and worked the tension out of his neck.

“Successful mission, Nanami?”

“Yes. No issues. All targets at the location have been exorcised.”

Succinct as always, Nanami relaxed into the cushioned seat with a sigh and rubbed the bridge of his nose. Having known the man for this long, Ijichi knew that there was only one thing that could fix that fatigue. He was one of the very few who was privy to the sight of Nanami surrounded by breads and snacks of various kinds, the chiselled, angular face bulging slightly at the cheeks like a hamster as the sorcerer helped himself to the things that made him most happy.

Contrary to the stoic and cold demeanour Nanami showed most others, he was kind and generous with many things, including his food. He would often share with Ijichi and had even remembered all of Ijichi’s favourites. This was why Ijichi had gone through such lengths to procure that sandwich today. This man, of all sorcerers, was worth the effort. Reaching for the parcel in the passenger seat, he handed the wrapped sandwich to Nanami.

“Here you go. It’s a pork cutlet sandwich, with salad. There’s also coffee in the cup holder and some croissants. Still warm!”

“Ah, thank you.”

It was extremely subtle, but Nanami perked up immediately and unwrapped the sandwich, taking a large bite followed by a quick, satisfied sip from the coffee cup. Ijichi smiled and put the car in gear once again, heading for the interchange that would lead them back to Tokyo.

“Have you eaten, Ijichi?”

“Err … not yet. I’m not that hungry. I’ve got something for myself though, so I’ll warm it up at the next stop.”

He couldn’t exactly let Nanami know his reasons for wanting to book it out of that town as soon as possible.

____________________________________________________

Of course, things never worked out that smoothly for him.

Somehow, the story reached even a few news sources in Tokyo. The strange tale of the well-known morning magazine show host, Maeda Yoshino, who had been robbed of her sandwich by a mysterious dark-suited man. What drew the audience in wasn’t so much the bread snatching, but the fact that on the recorded footage, the car had been obscured by a dark cloud that was shaped suspiciously like a raised middle finger.

Yoshino and her assistant had insisted that they hadn’t seen such a cloud surrounding the car during the chase, but had never closed the gap enough to take the registration number. Yoshino appeared on TV, indignantly describing how the man had grabbed the last speciality pork cutlet sandwich right out of her hand.

Ijichi tried his best to avoid Nanami at work, knowing full well that the wily sorcerer would take no time at all to figure the situation out. It appeared that he had not been entirely successful there either. Coming in to work one morning, he paused as he noted a parcel on his desk. Opening it, he found a beautifully prepared pork cutlet sandwich with a note stuck to the packaging.

Next time, we’ll just go for yakiniku.

Nanami.

@strawberry1042 @darkfaerietails @Jay220a @fattybattysblog @suguru-nugget @senseifupa @aleigant @gigiculona

#fanfiction #jjk fanfic #jjk #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #jjk humor #jjk fluff #jjk fic #ijichi kiyotaka #jjk ijichi #nanami kento #jjk nanami #ijichi gets that bread #sandwiches are worth fighting for

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ltash · 4 months

Text

Hide and Seek

In the mortal world, when I thought you were my enemy, I still missed you." "My sweet nemesis, how glad I am that you returned."

"Aye! Before you hide, tell me," he asked, curiosity in his voice. "The sniper you bought has a long range. Why'd ya need that? I mean, y'could have got a short range one."

"You'll know soon enough," I replied with a wink. "I'm gonna hide now."

With that, I turned and ran towards the back, adrenaline pumping as I searched for the perfect hiding spot.

I made my way towards the back, realizing that hiding inside the mansion wouldn't be a good idea. "Underground parking," I decided, throwing my slippers into the bushes and quietly making my way to the entrance.

I reached the end of the stairs, and the parking area was brightly lit with hundreds of LED lights on the ceiling. A line of exotic cars stretched out before me, mostly sports cars, offering no suitable hiding spots beneath them.

At the last spot, I saw my G-Wagon. "Yes!" I exclaimed softly, running over and lying under the car.

I giggled to myself, confident that Ghost would assume I was hiding somewhere inside the mansion. He would have no idea that I was here, tucked away under a car.

I waited and waited. Fifteen minutes had passed, and my anticipation was starting to give way to nervous excitement.

Suddenly, I heard footsteps approaching downstairs.

"Luvvie!" Ghost called out.

"Love!" he called again, playfully.

"I know you're here. C'mon out," he said.

I saw his boots as he methodically checked the interiors of the cars through their windows, one by one. I couldn't stop giggling, so I put my hand over my mouth to stifle the sound. The thrill of being so close yet hidden added to the excitement of the game.

"C'mon out, love," he chuckled. "You're in here, innit?" he called, his voice echoing slightly in the underground parking.

He then approached the G-Wagon and took a look inside.

"Not here too. C'mon, where are you, luvvie?" he asked again, sounding amused and slightly puzzled.

I held my breath, trying to remain completely silent, my heart racing as he stood so close. The thrill of almost being found made the moment even more exhilarating.

"Don't play these little games with me, eh?" he said, his voice tinged with playful warning. "Choices have consequences."

"Okay! I'm going out. You come out when you feel like," he added, and I saw him heading back to the stairs.

I sighed in relief and relaxed, laying there for a moment, thinking I'd won this round. But knowing Ghost, I stayed vigilant, expecting the unexpected.

I waited another five minutes, and just as I decided to emerge, the lights went out with a low hum.

My breath caught in my throat, and my heart began to race. I was alone in the parking lot, now enveloped in an impenetrable darkness. The silence was profound, and the shadows seemed to close in around me, amplifying the suspense and excitement of the game.

The darkness and deafening silence freaked me out. I knew it was him—he had switched off the lights. With no other choice, I slowly slipped out from beneath the car.

I had no idea where I was because everything was pitch black. Disoriented, I tried to find my bearings, feeling the walls as I moved cautiously through the inky void.

My hands touched the bonnet of the car, and I recognized it, giving me a hint of my location. Slowly, I used it as a guide, inching my way towards what I hoped was the exit. The familiarity of the car provided a small comfort amidst the overwhelming darkness.

A sudden rush of fear caught me, and I stood still where I was. My breath quickened, and I strained to hear any sound in the oppressive silence. The darkness felt even more suffocating, and I couldn't shake the feeling that Ghost was somewhere close, watching me.

I closed my eyes, straining to hear any noise coming my way. All I could hear was breathing.

His breathing.

From a distance, it grew louder and closer with each passing second. My heart pounded in my chest as the anticipation and fear mingled, creating a thrilling tension in the pitch-black parking lot.

There were no footsteps, only the sound of his breaths growing closer. He got nearer until he stood directly behind me, his body pressing against mine like a solid brick wall. Heat radiated from him, warming my back.

My heart pounded in my chest. He leaned in, his masked lips grazing my neck.

"Gotcha, luvvie!" he whispered in my ear.

Slowly, I turned around to face him. In the pitch-black darkness, only the skull of his mask was visible, shining eerily.

"Now, I'll take what's mine," his thick British voice echoed.

"And what exactly is that?" I whispered, my voice trembling with anticipation.

"You," he replied, the single word resonating with possessive intensity.

"So, is it your room or mine?" he asked, his voice dripping with playful menace.

I tried to run, but he swiftly wrapped his hands around my arms, pulling me towards him. My back hit his solid chest, and with effortless strength, he lifted me onto his shoulder.

I couldn't help but giggle. "Si-Simon!" I laughed, the thrill of the moment making me giddy.

"Laugh as much as you can, love," he said while carrying me upstairs. His grip was firm yet gentle, and the rhythm of his steps was steady. My giggles echoed through the house, mingling with the excitement and anticipation of what was to come.

He opened the door to his room and closed it with a push of his foot. Gently, he set me down on the bed and stood before me, his imposing figure silhouetted against the dim light. The atmosphere was charged with an electrifying intensity, and I could feel the anticipation building between us.

I stood up and walked towards the dresser, where I saw his lighter and a cigarette box. I turned on the lighter and began to light the scented candles arranged around the room. Their warm, soothing scent soon enveloped the space, creating an intimate and tranquil atmosphere.

He came to me and gently held my hand, guiding me to the mirror. Standing behind me, his towering and broad frame made me look even smaller in comparison. His eyes were fixed on my reflection in the mirror.

"Look at you. Pretty little thing," he murmured, leaning in and resting his chin on my shoulder. His breath was warm against my skin.

"What did I do to deserve you?" he asked, his arms wrapping securely around my tiny waist, pulling me closer. The intimacy of the moment was overwhelming, filling me with a deep sense of connection and affection.

My knees felt weak with him so close. I could feel his growing arousal pressing at my lower back through the think silk fabric of my slip dress. The heat between us was palpable, and the anticipation made my heart race even faster.

"I laid my eyes on you, and I need you, Ghost," I whispered, turning my face towards him. Our faces were merely inches apart, his masked visage veiled in shadow. The intensity of our proximity sent a shiver down my spine, and I could feel the raw desire building between us.

"Even after coming to know what I do? Who I am?" he whispered in my ear, his voice heavy with the weight of his confession. "I am a killer. I kill people. I have blood on my hands."

He looked at my face in the mirror and showed me his gloved hands which I gently held in mine interwining his fingers with mine.

"You do it for your country, not for your own satisfaction. I only know you as my protector, who doesn't care about his life but mine," I added, my words filled with understanding and acceptance. Despite the darkness of his past, I saw the light within him, the unwavering dedication to his duty and the love he held for me.

"You do what is right. You get your hands dirty so that the world stays clean. You are the bravest soul I know," I said, turning around to look into his eyes.

In that moment, I saw not just the man behind the mask, but the hero who sacrificed everything for the greater good.

My admiration for him only grew stronger, knowing the depth of his convictions and the sacrifices he made for others.

"Everything that comes near me gets destroyed. I'm afraid I will end up destroying you too," he said, his voice tinged with sorrow and fear.

I reached out and gently cupped his face in my hands, looking deeply into his eyes. "You've already shown me more love and protection than I ever thought possible. And I'm willing to stand by your side, no matter what challenges come our way. Together, we can face anything," I reassured him.

I gazed into his eyes, my heart overflowing with love and longing. "I want you to make me yours, mark me, hide me from the world," I confessed, laying bare my deepest desires.

In that moment, I yearned for nothing more than to be wholly his, to be enveloped in his love and protection, shielded from the harshness of the outside world.

He touched his forehead to mine, and his words resonated in the quiet space between us. "All the women who came into my life were just a one-night stand. I never thought any woman would fall in love with me, but you," he paused, his voice filled with emotion, "you are still untouched."

"I want to devour you, but once I start, I cannot stop. But I will never hurt you," he confessed, his vulnerability laying bare the depths of his desire and the weight of his past. In that moment, I understood the gravity of his words and the sincerity of his intentions.

Tears welled up in my eyes, my breath becoming shaky as emotions overwhelmed me. My lips quivered with the intensity of my longing. "I just want you. I need you right now," I confessed, my voice barely above a whisper.

My heart pounding with anticipation and desire, knowing that in that moment, I was ready to surrender myself completely to him.

"If loving you means my destruction then let it be."

"I love you Simon." I said.

Full story on Wattpad.

Part 1 on Tumblr.

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