21 - 27 of 27 Bookmarks by Bathed_in_sunlight
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"To put it bluntly, she had gotten the s*** beat out of her."
Sophie finds herself healing from a brutal attack on a job gone wrong. The team comes together, each in their own way, to take care of their grifter.
Some angst managed through lots of love, comfort, trust, and humor.
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When the brewpub sort-of-accidentally hires a head chef, Hardison finds himself in the middle of some unexpectedly vicious cook-on-cook action that closely resembles a playground scuffle. Parker enjoys cheesecake. Sophie thinks they need a swingset. Nate likes the potato cakes. And Eliot finds someone who is distinctly unimpressed by his expertise in haute cuisine.
Written for a challenge: love story (or start thereof) told entirely from a third party's point of view. I am not a professional chef and apologise in advance for any glaring weirdness or inaccuracies.
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"You have stolen my heart, meine Liebe..." König leaned down and whispered in your ear, causing goosebumps to erupt on your skin. His callused hands reached for your face, making you gaze into his ice blue eyes. You heard him let out a breathy chuckle behind his hood, "Diebin meines Herzens... Thief of my heart..."
A mission has you spending weeks surveilling a small city in Russia with the one and only König. During the harsh winters, some things don't go as planned and you'll have to survive the cold and unbearable heat you're feeling for the 6'10 Austrian man. It's a winter wonderland you know neither of you can have in your line of work. You might as well enjoy it while it lasts. You might not get this chance again.
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734 days. You'd been a prisoner, locked and hidden away in this solitary cell for over two years. Others there had committed petty crimes or made themselves an enemy of the Ultranationalists, and before them— the Soviet Union.
A majority of prisoners hadn't done anything wrong at all, though they were too poor, too educated, or simply too much of a threat to the regime. Anyone could have been in the cell next to yours for any reason. But you? You knew why you were expected to rot away there.
It was either die of disease or malnutrition in your cell, long forgotten by anyone who'd known your name, or be found by either side of the conflict and be killed. Death had called to you for a while; you didn't fear it. And you didn't fear the three, foreign operators when they broke through the door to your prison cell— or when the one with the skull mask held an assault rifle to your head.
❝And who the fuck is this?❞
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Now You See Me, Now You Don't by PolitelyAskingSimonRileyToKillMeOkBye (orphan_account)
Fandoms: Call of Duty (Video Games)
29 Mar 2024
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When Staff Sergeant 'Wren' joined Task Force 141, Ghost was indifferent. Operators come and go on a regular basis, after all. But you don't leave after the first mission. In fact, you don't leave at all. Over time, you cemented your place in the Task Force, but no-one knew quite how much they'd come to depend on you until you were gone. You'd built a place for yourself in even the coldest of hearts, but like all birds, you couldn't fly forever.
Wings clipped and bloodied feathers streaming behind you, you were in a freefall. Ghost could only hope you wouldn't pass right through him when he caught you.
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It was a beautiful autumn afternoon to go for a last run before reporting back to base, until it isn't.
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