[ inception ] [ fanfic / afanfic ] [ dis / trade / srs / projects / 3d / fanart / afanart / oek / tits / rpg / dumps / cosplay ] [ offtopic / vg / zombies / gay / resources / upl ]
Return Entire Thread Last 50 posts

Crossfire (Scout/Sniper) (22)

1 . Name: YannaChan @ 2012-06-20 14:21

Chapter 1
Introductions

The A-side

________________________________________

This war we are in is nothing like most of its participants would have expected in the first place. We die day after day, several times if you happen to have an unlucky streak.

Somehow it´s terrifying and relaxing all at once.

The first time you still think that you are probably dead for good. Hell, I even think the same from time to time whenever I die a particularly painful and slow death.

Maybe it´s more of a hopeful thought than fearing one really.

Being a mercenary isn't my favorite job. Shocking right? I'm a killing machine on the battlefield. The BLU Scout is hardly comparable to my awesome running skills.

After all I was born with a pure killer instinct, baby.

Even though all the blood, ripped skin, the death screams that are drenched in agony, the feeling of crushed bones right underneath your purple skin- it is intense to say the least.

But it actually pays quite well.

That´s the reason I cannot desert or just quit. My team doesn't know about how I send almost all of my money back home to Boston.

My mom always says that there is no need for me to do it, but I know that she is lying. Without my salary she wouldn't be able to pay the rents or all the other life expenses.

She brought the twelve of us up without our good-for-nothing father, never complaining about it being too hard or about wanting to give us up and to foster parents.

I respect her deeply for that as most of my brothers do as well.

Even if I have to go through hell for her, I can endure it. It won't be forever, the contract will end someday eventually- I pray that it will.

Therefore she deserves every single crumbled dollar that I stuff into a wrinkled envelope together with a sloppy written letter in which I apologize and tell her that I’ll probably won't make it home to the next holidays either.

As I look at the family portrait that I always keep under my pillow case, where no one should find it, I guess, one stupid thought in particular often comes to my mind.

She probably thinks I'm an ungrateful little slugger.

2 . Name: YannaChan @ 2012-06-20 14:23

The B-side
________________________________


This war isn't really what I expected in the first place.

The killing isn't bothering me as much as the constant dying or the respawning for the matter.

I hate respawning with an undying passion. It always leaves me with a tingling in my gut that makes me feel like I rode the coaster one too often.

Now there would appear the question: You hate it? Then why the hell do you do it?!

Well, that´s pretty easy to explain. I don't have anything better to do and here my sniping skills can actually help me gain some money.

Though I still haven't decided what I'm supposed to do with it just yet.

Well, there is one thing I am certain about however, I won't return to the Outback as long as I can avoid it.

There is a reason why I've come to America after all.

When I just turned 21, I seemed to finally notice that my dad was a bloody idiot. I began to knock him someday, he bailed me up spewin' his head off and I bailed out with an all too happy hooroo on my lips.

It’s as easy as that. Now I’m not a cooee within Australia and I couldn’t be gladder.

Whenever we talk on the phone I am supposed to listen to his constant ear-bashing about all the possibilities I could still have if I came back home or never left to begin with, how I was a murderer, a psychopath, but most of all- a big letdown.

He doesn't know shit. Back then as well as now. I'm not even sure if he ever really knew me at all to begin with. The day he’ll start caring about me, will be the day that hell freezes solid.

Guilty that I left mom behind with him, I call even though it annoys me to an unbelievable extend and because I'm not too fond of having a spat or even a fist-fight with him, I keep away.

There was no more “the lucky country” for me! I finished with “home” long time ago.

I have somewhat outgrown it.

Just like all younglings outgrow their hometowns and small houses at some point and get out to find out where they belong.
That typical homey feeling is as useless as tits on a bull anyways. As long as I have my all-trusty van, I'd have a place to call home. She is a good girl, the only Sheila that clung to me longer than a few weeks.

She was the only personal belonging, except for the yellow aviators and my hat that I brought the day that I arrived here. We were instructed to bring nothing personal anyways.

This may be hell, but it is a good way to pass some time.

3 . Name: YannaChan @ 2012-06-20 15:11

Chapter 2
The problem & the plan to solve it

__________________________________

Fighting like this took a lot out of a guy, but what's even worse than that is the stress that comes along with this branch of work.

The kind of stress that needed to be taken care of in order for a guy to stay sane.

Additionally there is the certain problem that I´m a guy, a young one at that and I have some needs to attend to, if you catch my supple drift.

Somewhere along the first six months on duty, I began to get sick of my own hand. I never brought any pornographic crap with me or anything and I didn't really want to ask any of the other numb nuts around, so I got pretty desperate for somebody on body action really fast.

Whores were rare and expensive around here and they weren't really my thing to begin with. My mom would be disgusted and ashamed of me if she ever were to find out that I went to a prostitute, so being a good mommas-boy I didn't.

I never would have taken myself for a butt muncher though, but on the other hand there is this “prison-gay-thing”, right? That is the only explanation I found for my strange behavior, when I stood before Sniper's dingy van, knocking late at night one day.

But for my defense, he happily took me in without a second glance. We didn't even have to talk about anything; he just flung me onto the flimsy bed.

The Aussie probably read my look, must have looked horny as shit. Whatever. I got what I wanted and that's the main point that I wanted to make…

…Because I don't get that anymore.

Last time I tried to get into the stinky old vehicle he didn't open up, the time before that he just banged the door shut right in my face and locked it up after himself.

The asswipe doesn't talk to me anymore either and I have no freaking idea what crawled up his ass and died there, but I'm not gonna take it!

No idea what made him cock block me, but I'm less than amused.

The douche bag made me do things that I never even took into consideration, that maybe even embarrassed me, because there were just that gay and then he just drops me like a hot potato? That asshat is gonna see what he gets out of that!

The outside wind is strong and cold as it blazes into my face, but I still go for another round of running.

All the pend up energy needs to go somewhere and it´s a good way to warm up for the battle that will start in like half an hour.

I need to keep my dream body in shape, too. Would be a waste if I grew fat around the incredible handsome edges.

How can the Australian even resist me? Sure, whenever I want to shag I just say so and he obeys, but that does mean that he wants to, too, right?

Yeah right.

It´s not like he is simply doing me a favor, he's not that kind of guy. He does it because he gets the same relief out of it as me, because he needs it just as much as me.

I swear to god, if that asshole doesn't touch me soon, I'm going to jump him and make him do it with a shotgun to the face.

It would be funny to see him all wide eyed and spluttering, but that will be the very last measure which I'm going to take though. I don't want to look like some kinda cock slut.

All I really have to do is get him horny right? That can be arranged.

I really hope the other team members don't pick up the evil grin that I'm sure to spot on my way back into the base.

_______________________________________________

The announcement of the incoming battle sounds after I came back from my morning jog. I even had the time to grab some breakfast and a can of BONK before heading out.

The battle is almost over by now, with us dominating of course.

As soon as I see the Medic Heavy combo closing in on the BLU case and I hear the enraged old hag screaming “The intelligence has been taken!” in the intercom, I know that it's time for my master plan to kick into start.

While making sure that I don't have any unwished spectators, I jog upon the opposite site of the field looking around carefully.

I keep a close watch for incoming enemies or allies for the matter, as well as a tale-tell sparkle of a visor reflecting angrily in the bright sunlight.

Doesn't take me long to discover it. The RED Sniper is seated in the top floor of a barn, his rifle peaking out between old, cracked boards.

It flashes again and I figure that he must have spotted me as well.

Not breaking eye contact, I lean up against the wall behind me.

Without much pause I run my hand down my upper body and stick it up the front of my shirt, stroking my skin beneath it, which results in a soft purr as soon as I graze the spot near my navel which I only discovered because of the Aussie anyways.

My hips lift from the wall and my shoulders slip down some.

I'm quite happy that I was not leaning up against our own base, because I probably would have a whole bunch of splitters in my naked shoulders at this point already.

It wasn’t my kind of idea of fun to explain such a “injury” to our German doctor.

With the hand that isn't busy, I take out my pistol and look up seductively. He is probably licking his lips right about now or he is just gawking at the open display of raw sexiness.

The gun travels up my body, brushing my collarbone on the way there and stops at my lips. I know that he has a giant kink which resolves about me getting it on with some kinda gun, at least I think so, so I really hope that that bastard is watching or he is going to be in a hell of pain soon.

My tongue sweeps out and my eyes flutter shut. I suck it into my mouth softly, still stroking along my sensible spot.

Images of past times that Sniper did something similar to me, rush into my head and I can't help but get a little excited as well.

I rub my legs together, sliding down the wall further, as I feel a straight hard-on forming quickly. Sniper better be watching or this is going to be a freaking embarrassment.

The wrapped hand on my stomach is slipping further down south without me even taking any notice of it. It had been a few weeks already.

The wind is softly blowing, not as strong as before, and it has a cooling aspect on my overheated skin. A quiet moan escapes me once more.

Too bad that I was so horny or I might have noticed the blue fog in the corner of my vision.

“Well, you certainly got the seduction skill of your dear mozzer.” A voice rasps next to me and it takes all my self control to not shoot myself in the head.

I gape wordlessly at the BLU Frenchman, before I slip the gun out of my mouth as fast as a speeding bullet. He grasps my hand before I can put it to his head instead though.

“Non, that´s bad.” He tusks and shakes his head as if he wants to scold me. “What are you doin´ here anywayz, petit lupin. Don't you know that precious little playthings zhouldn't run around unguarded?” My hands are further pressed into the wall, his grip so strong that I drop the damn gun.

“Someone might come to break them.” The Spy grins down evilly and I gulp, but just glare at him. The enemy takes a look around.

“Oh? You tried to impress your Sniper? What a dirty little slut.”

“No one's trying to impress anyone, you asshole. Now let go.” Instead of letting go, he leans further into me. “You fuckin` fag! What the hell do you think you-”

“Shush!” The Frenchman covers my mouth with his leather gloved hand, keeping me quiet. “Why can’t you be as much of a gentleman towards me as you are to your beloved mozzer?”

“The hell…” The Boston boy can barely stammer out before his head is slammed into the wall.

“Sending her money every week, isn’t that cute?” His gaze gives his ill attentions away rather clearly.

“Dear mom, I miss you a lot and I pray to see you again soon. Love and kisses, Scout.” The BLU quotes with an annoying tone that makes me want to break his ugly nose right away.

“Keep the fuck away from my mom, you French fag!” I try to fight back but it only results in him tightening his hold on my arms.

“How rude. How much she loves when I fuck her. You can’t deny her zat pleasure, can you?” before I can retort my shoulder is bitten roughly and I grunt out and violently trash.

Sadly to no avail. He backs me up further and I cry out again when he bites harder.

“St-Stop!” After shifting both of my hands into one of his bigger ones, he backhands me and pushes the free appendage against my mouth, silencing me once again.

My eyes are pleadingly fixed on the window that gleams oh so promising and for a fleeting instant, I think that maybe Sniper positioned his scope like that to get the enemy´s attention and trick them into looking for him there.

...

That he wasn't there to begin with.

…

That I was all alone with the Spy right here, right now, with no one in reach that could possibly help me.

...

I guess I might be about to cry right now. The Frenchman lets go to reposition himself completely on top of me, pressing his disgusting boner against my leg and I think I'm going to puke any moment.

His cologne makes my eyes sting and tear up and – oh god! I wish I could smell the thick somewhat earthy smell that I got so used to over merely a few months.

I try to nut crack him with the leg he is rubbing against, but he notices and crushes it with his knee, putting far too much pressure on it. I think I can hear my bone cracking.

The tears blur up my vision. This is embarrassing. I'm gonna be raped by a French fag, all because I wasn't getting laid.

He is probably really going to ruin me, all because of that son of a bitch.

I hate him so much right now, although I know that I put myself into this misery all on my own.

The whole ordeal and my train of thoughts are stopped short however, when the BLU falls down to the floor with a thin red mist trailing him.

The scope was still glinting angrily in the blinding sun.

4 . Name: Scrambled Bananas @ 2012-06-20 17:18

...Go on.

Very enjoyable so far. Really. I look forward to more.

5 . Name: YannaChan @ 2012-06-20 18:27

Thank you very much, Scrambled Bananas :)
______________________________________

Chapter 3
Phantom fingerprints

______________________________________

I had spend at least one and a half hour trying to scrub all the blood and grim off my body, but I couldn’t get rid of this dirty, unclean feeling. My skin must be all red and angered by now, maybe bloody even and even though it doesn’t seem like I washed enough, I force myself to stop.

I still feel his thumb angrily pressing into my cheek, his breath all over my chest. My shoulder hurts like a bitch and I’m limping a little.

All I wanna do is find myself a nice dark corner and die over there or maybe I could just suffocate myself with my pillow. It sure wouldn’t take as long.

The next option that came apparent in my head was just jogging into the Sniper’s nest that the older hadn’t left yet and apologize for what I did.

Although I didn’t do anything wrong.

I'm not quite that desperate yet, so I’ll just try to masturbate my way around it. If he wants to be an asshole, he can be a cock-blocked asshole for all I care!

I make myself comfortable on the bed on my back on top of the covers.

My pants are taken off hastily since I’m quite horny. Not even bothering with my shirt, I get straight down to business.

So, yeah, I do the usual – tug and stroke, rub a little, squeeze some, but it just doesn't seem all that much satisfying.

My dick probably still remembers the bigger, steadier hands on it.

Oh, that certainly did something; it makes my body remember other things, interesting things.

With closed eyes I fantasize, his hands on me, going down my chest. The older male nips my ear and whispers sweet nothings, calls me a slut as I moan and ache my back up, like he loves to.

I turn onto my stomach, up on my hands and knees and pull the thin comforter over my trembling body.

It almost feels like his long, thin body is stretched out protectively over my lither form.

His breath is brushing along my neck, making me gasp deeply. But I feel so terribly empty.

I suck on my fingers, wet them just enough and push them where I need them most. My other hand still jerks me off sloppily as I settle down again.

My shaky hand just can't reach that place. It´s probably not even humanly possible, I tell myself. I moan and writhe but I just don't get the spot right.

I just want it so bad, so I get hasty, forceful even. It's impossible.

It leaves me tumbling over face first on the mattress and I cry like a freaking wuss. I grab the bedspread and can't fucking shut up.

Sob after Sob shakes me, the fabric clutched in my hands acting like a last lifeline to me. I rub at my offending tears with an angry fist, but it doesn’t help at all.

I hate him. I hate him so much.

Over and over it shouts like a mantra in my head and I whimper into the covers pathetically. I can’t even remember the last time I cried this hard, but I can’t even think straight anyways.

It seems like forever before I can’t squeeze out any tears anymore and my arms are cramping up from gripping to hard. I tumble down to the sheets, completely worn out.

The last thought I have before I fall into an uneasy sleep is about the feeling deep down that tells me I don’t hate him at all. I despise it.

6 . Name: Rex @ 2012-06-21 12:43

Oh man, I love this so much. It's so close to breaking my heart, I neeeeed to know why Sniper is being such a cock block.
Please continue!

7 . Name: YannaChan @ 2012-06-21 18:31

Chapter 4
The battle

____________________________

Let me tell you something.

Right on the spot I can think of about one thousand better ways to wake up then having your door almost punched out of its hinges by a psychotic Soldier while he is screaming bloody murder on top of his lungs.

Being drenched in ice cold water and punched in the stomach by one of my buff older brothers just being mere examples.

I swear to god, someday he will either give a heart attack or will make me fall out of bed and get me to break my own neck in the process.

To be truthful twisting my own neck sound somewhat endearing at the moment as soon as I think about eating breakfast with the whole team- including a certain sharpshooter of course.

I get out of bed and search the floor for some shirt that might still be semi clean. After sniffing on a few articles of clothing I find one that doesn’t smell like dead rat and get dressed, grimacing as I put on my trousers.

My right knee is swollen and dark bluish-green; not exactly a view I enjoy. I poke at it carefully and it stings slightly. My legs are the weapons I use in battle, if they fail me, I’m gonna end up dead for sure. I flex it and declare it as “just fine” even though I wince.

My morning jog doesn’t really feel as refreshing as it normally does either.

In general the feeling of wind in my faces and non-giving ground crunching beneath my sneakers would send me into an adrenaline induced ecstasy, but no such luck today.

The leg problem isn’t really helping with motivating me to go further and faster either.

It is useless trying to think of anything but the situation at hand, I know that much, but that doesn’t keep me from damn well trying to. However, I have to cave in rather quickly and stop right next to the entrance of our base.

“Already done with morning exercise, petit?” The man standing next to me is smoking and enjoying the early morning sun, as he usually does. He is no rare sight for me at this time.

“Fuck off.” I flip him the bird and storm off right past him like a fucking teenage girl on her period.

“How rude…” He huffs and puffs on his cigarette in irritation. I’m not blaming him or anything, but it was his fault for sounding like a goddamned BLU in the first place.

Why do all spies have to be French fuckers anyways?

It can’t be about their professionalism, since fucking with the enemy’s mom can’t be called that in my opinion. I just hope that my good-for-nothing brother Jeremy is home as much as possible; taking care and keeping track of my mom. If I ever were to see pictures of her with that BLU bastard I’m not sure want I would or could do for the matter.

I never told her about the rumors that had been going around on the battlefield lately. They were about the enemy Spy and my mom. Probably just a way to get to me, at least I pray to god that it’s as simple as that.

It’s been a long time since I received a letter from home. In the back of my mind I make sure to remember to write another letter soon, maybe call; even though I rather get around the sobbing and sniffing mess my mom tends to get when she is talking to me.

I enter the kitchen and piled some toast and scrambled instant eggs onto a clean dish sitting in the sink. The orange juice from the fridge hasn’t expired jet, so I take a big gulp from the packet.

Pyro doesn’t sound too thrilled about it as much as I can tell from his incurrent grumblings.

It was nothing fancy, nowhere as good as what I was used from home, but this was my temporary new home and I wouldn’t dare to start complaining with the Soldier around.

The last time it happened it had been the Spy who claimed the food to be “some aggravated French word” and not suiting his refined taste at all. Well, we ended up with a couple of broken dishes, a Frenchman with a faceful of mashed potatoes and an annoyed German who had to surgically remove a spoon from said man’s stomach.

After that no one ever dared to say something ever again and I don’t blame them either. The food around here is edible and that’s enough for me.

The couch and side table is occupied by the Soldier and the Demoman. One is busy getting drunk right after breakfast, while the other is cleaning his shotgun with that sort of fondness you can only see when he is preparing for an incoming battle.

The Pyro, Medic and Heavy are sitting around the kitchen table, leaving little place for me to sit down, so I settle down right by the counter. I begin chomping away on my eggs rather disinterested which doesn’t go unnoticed by our attentive Medic.

“Are you not feeling well, Herr Scout?” The dark-haired looks at me over the top of the book he has been reading up to this point. I can’t tell what it’s about since there ain’t a picture on the cover and the cursive title is written in some foreign language; most probably German.

“I’m fine, doc.” Apparently he does not believe a single word I say, since he comes over to me, checking for a fever. “Hey, I said I’m fi-!”

While I’m busy talking, he just grabs hold of my tongue and uses his position to get a good look down my throat, half chewed food and all.

“Hey!” I struggle, but as always, he just knows where exactly to pinch to keep me from moving. With a serious expression he turns my head from one side to the other until his gaze fixes on my neck.

“What is that?” He pushes his index finger against the bite mark, but stops as soon as I begin to whimper in pain.

“Nothing at all! Jeez doc…” This is so embarrassing; I’m probably blushing like a virgin. Of course the Australian decides to walks into the medium sized kitchen right at this moment and I don’t find it in myself to simply ignore him.

After giving the two of us a strange look, he just pushes past me towards the coffee machine, without saying a single word. He inserts a filter and coffee powder and pushes the power button, making the machine spring and crackle to life.

“Guten Morgen.” The dark-haired male greets the newcomer with a stoic tone.

“Mornin’” His voice is still gruff with sleep and don’t ask me why, but it makes me shiver unintentionally.

Somehow I’m even less hungry so I put the dish into the sink and turn to leave only to be stopped by the German.

“If you have any personal problems, feel free to come by my office later, Junge*. I’m not only here for your physical health but as well for your psychological well being.” After finishing up, his reassuring hand leaves my shoulder and I walk out without another word.
__________________________________

When I had dressed this morning, I thought that my leg wouldn’t get any worse and man oh man was I wrong.

The first hours of battle had been alright. My mood had brightened up when I actually got to kill the BLU Spy at one point. Bathing in the feeling of revenge, which got me high and mighty, I spend another half an hour not paying attention to my own energy supply at all.

Up to this point it had been fine. I had been whenever and wherever I had to show up and fight, but as I tried to dodge an incoming Pyro and I backed up while shooting, my leg suddenly gave out.

I tumble to the floor, looking up fearful at the pyromaniac whose flames are already licking at my heels as I scramble over the floor, trying to find some sort of cover, any kind of protection from a painful death without avail.

With no way out I glance up at the BLU with fear in my eyes. He is as big as me, maybe a few inches shorter. It’s impossible to see his face or his expression for the matter and somehow that is really terrifying. The fire is reflecting in his goggles together with my mirror image. It looks like a picture straight out of hell.

I squeeze my eyes shut; not wanting to see it coming, but I already feel the hot burning sensation all over my body.
_________________________
*Junge = boy

8 . Name: Anonymous @ 2012-06-22 20:35

Oh shit-I'm really getting into this! Love where you're going with this and can't wait to read more!

9 . Name: Anonymous @ 2012-06-23 00:38

Love this very much and really hope to see more soon.

10 . Name: Anonymous @ 2012-06-23 11:08

Is there going to be more from sniper's pov? I'd really like to know what he's thinking about all this.

11 . Name: YannaChan @ 2012-06-29 10:25

Note:
I messed up with the tenses in the last part (Chapter 4) and I’m sorry, but I don’t know how to edit…
_________________

Chapter 5
Solutions

_________________

Completely surrendering to my incoming death I drop down to the ground. I shoot back up when I hear a gunshot ringing through the terrain.

The BLU drops into a heap and I take a deep, relaxing breath. My gaze travels around the area trying to figure out what or rather who saved my life as the red mist trailing from the pyro’s body settles onto the dusty ground.

However, as I see the scope of a sniper rifle glinting in nearby window, I’m not too sure if I am happy or angry. That emotional crap is supposed to be figured out after the match ended, I decide for myself.

I lean onto my arms and push myself up just to flop down back to the scratchy, warm floor right away again.

“What the hell…” I mumble under my breath. “Why…?” My right leg trembles under my gaze. I touch it and flinch back.

“Aw shit…” It burns and stings like a motherfucker and how am I supposed to do my thing if my leg is all fucked up?! Shit…shit…fuck.

It’s hard to focus on anything. The pain slowly begins to override the adrenaline still pumping through my body.

As I sit there I begin to notice the spinning of a minigun that is slowly itching towards my direction. The sound was supposed to come from the other side of the field, but no. Lady Luck decided to fuck me up apparently.

I try to crawl myself into cover. Inch after inch, foot after foot I make my way over to a pile of barrels.

Until someone grabs me by the shoulder and I scream like a little sissy that is.

“Shut it, you lil’ wankah!” The sniper looks angry already, but after glancing more closely, I could swear I see some worry in his eyes, even if it passes after only a second.

“Sniper…?” To be honest, he is the last person I would have guessed to be touching me.

“Shut up!” He hisses angrily and crouches down close to me. “Don’t talk.”

I never was a smart guy, but right now I think that shutting up is the wisest thing to do. While one hand hooks under my knees, the other twists around my shoulders and with a groan that could have come from an old guy with back problems which might actually be true; he hoisted me up bridal style.

An undignified sound escaped me, but before I can say anything he glares down at me with a strict look on his face.

He carries me up to the base he set up and sets me down none to gently on the hard floorboards; setting down meaning just straight out dropping me.

“What the fuck, man?!” My screeching is a few octaves to high. I know that much, but I don’t care.

“Take off your trousers.” The older man commands in a tone that would make me comply usually, but not now; not under the current circumstances.

“You gotta be kidding me, no way!” I pull my knees up to my chest, trying to get my defense up. Oh, all of a sudden Mr. All-And-Mighty wants to get into my pants like nothing happened?

Well, fuck that. If he thinks I’m that easy to achieve, he can go to hell for all I care. Sure, I waited a few weeks for this, but right now he can fuck off and can go piss in some glass as long as he leaves me alone.

“I wanna take a look at your leg.” His green eyed gaze meets mine. As far as I can tell he looks serene, but seriously what do I know? He could be lying right now, trying to get some sort of sick pay back on me, so why should I trust him?

He leans down to face me. I know I shouldn’t get nervous, but I can’t help it.

“Stop being a pansy.”

If he tries his hardest to be nice to me, I guess I could just go along with it just this once. Furthermore I was never known to be someone that backs down from challenges. The brown fabric slips of my body easy enough as soon as the belt is loose.

The male leans closer to my body, trying to check out the wound as best as he can. I’m asking myself if he knows where I got it from although the next sentence he blurs out makes it pretty clear.

“Well. Doesn’t look like he is the gentle type, mate.” The Australian hisses the last words like an insult. Is he really trying to help or is he just making fun of my weakness? I can’t really tell, but I don’t like the way he goes at whatever the hell he is doing right now.

“Can’t deny that.” I feel like after all he put me through he deserved to be punished at least a little. Maybe he doesn’t deserve it, but I feel like the victim.

“So what? You have been shagging the Frenchie lately, an enemy at that?” The snarling tone makes my gaze snap up to him right away. One hand drops down to my injured knee, putting pressure on it. “Pathetic, I always thought you had more style than that, slut.”

“Fuck you and let go.” I spit and swat at him. How dare he call me that after all he did to me. “It’s not like it’s your business anyways, asshole.”

“Don’t forget who you belong to, whelp!” The other male traps me against the wall, pushing up against me forcefully.

“Let me go!” I try to struggle, but I can’t find it in myself to take it seriously. After all this is what I waited for. Even if he is abusing me right now, even if he is angry and wants to kill me, I can’t resist as long as it’s him. Maybe I really am a slut? “I don’t belong to anyone except the RED team!”

“Are you sure about that?” His finger brushes over the bite and I shiver. “’Cause someone sure left his mark on you.” His fingers traces up my neck, ghosting over my pulse point.

12 . Name: Anonymous @ 2012-06-29 12:02

oh please do continue! This is marvelous

13 . Name: Yaru @ 2012-06-29 12:30

NOO!! Why would you leave it off THERE?!

Damn it. Well thanks for the update I'm gonna go take a shower.
and bite off my finger nails waiting for another update.

14 . Name: YannaChan @ 2012-07-05 04:46

Note:

I’m really unsure about this one.

Writing in Sniper’s perspective is really hard for me, since I’m not really fluent with Australian slag, so feel free to tell me if I overdid it.

_________________________

Chapter 6
Another point of view

___________________________

When I saw the lil‘ Wankah at the mercy of my nemesis just this afternoon I could have sworn my heart stopped for a few seconds. I had only turned for a second, bending down from my crate to pour myself some more coffee into the plain cup and when I returned...

You already know what happened, roight?

I didn’t see it coming, as some blokes might say.

Even now I’m not sure if the BLU thought it would be good oil for me or if he just wanted to piss me off completely, but with the whole rivalry feeling we had going I put my money on the second one.

But how can I be certain that it was the Spy that came onto the mongrel first? Maybe he even started it up himself…

Somehow up to that point I always thought that I’m the only one that gets to do the wackah, but apparently I was wrong about it.

I’m not sure if I’m angry or sad. It’s a mixture of both I decide to end the thought, but I’m still tossing and turning in the dingy bed inside my camper van a few hours later nonetheless.

It’s a calm night outside, eerily quiet so; I still remember the loud nights in the Outback, whenever I used to camp out there with my dad. The cracking of the fire while we slept close to it to keep warm, the howling of a dingo in the distance and the soft chirping from insects that called out rather rarely.

The nights that I wished that sleep wouldn’t take me over at all.

This one however is the kind of silence that gets on your nerve at these times whenever someone just wants anything to distract from the current situation.

I really should have seen it coming, how could I not? The wankah bangs like a dunny door and just because he came to me first (at least I hope I got to him first) doesn’t mean that we have any lingering ties with each other.

It’s a professional arrangement after all…

Back in the days I had been kicked out of my home for bowling from the pavilion end and nowadays it’s back to bite me in the arse. That’s just my luck.

Although I am terribly stuffed, I can’t close my eyes without seeing the close up look of my number one enemy and the one bloke I used to call some names along the lines of “Idiot” or sometimes “Lover”.

Somehow I already know that it’s going to be a sleepless night.

_______________________________

The young one sure seems like a Bludger right now. He’s about to cark it for sure. From the looks of it he has already given up on surviving this encounter.

Sure, I’m still ropeable when it comes down to him, but I can’t let him go that easily. Of course I am aware that he would pass through respawn just a few minutes later if I didn’t do anything, but around here I like to save any mates I can even if it’s only for a few minutes.

It comes along with the job that I’m far from trigger happy and I really don’t know how it happened. The bullet just got out of my gun on its own and pierced its way through the thick rubber mask and the skull all by itself as far as I know.

I expect him to jump up and start running again like the bunny that he is, but I know that something is wrong when he falls to the ground like a wounded animal.

Normally I don’t leave the nest unless I’m switching my positions, but I’m up on my feet in just a few seconds and out the door after a few more. It feels like I take the stairs down in flight.

I’m a good shot, but when the thought that maybe my bullet got him as well crosses my mind I pale. Maybe I hurt him in the process of saving him.

It doesn’t leave my mind until I turn the corner and stand right next to him.

15 . Name: YannaChan @ 2012-07-05 05:47

[aa] Note:

Two short installments to the series instead of one. Hope you don't mind and enjoy.


_______________

Chapter 7
A matter of faith

_______________

He is trying to crawl himself into hiding just like an injured animal would and it worries me, because he never struck me as the gutless type, but even the strongest predator gets wary when it’s life is at stack.

Since I can’t get a good look at him, I grab him by his shoulder and spin him around. The bloke yelps and looks at me as if I’m about to kill him something that I might have taken into account just mere minutes ago.

He’s scared, shitless so and it makes me think that maybe I made a Blue in threatening him the way I did. However at the same time I get cranky. The boyo stares up at me as if I am his greatest enemy and the way he stutters out my class name makes matters even worse, so I just tell him to shut up.

On the first scan I can’t find any blood on his clothing and thankfully no bullet wound and I let out a breath I didn’t even know I was holding in.

The way I heft him up is way too ironical romantic for me, bur since I don’t know what’s the matter with him I can’t just heft him up over my shoulder without risking to hurt him even more in the process.

And I’m not an old man by the way! The bloke is heavier than he looks. You try sitting hunched over a rifle for half of the day and not get back aches then we talk again.

The whole gentle act seems wrong as soon as the previous day comes back to mind and I just drop him off as soon as we reach the more or less safe nest which results in him bitching at me.

He clutches at his knee and I think I know where he got it from. Somehow I feel responsible for at least taking care of him so he can go back to the fight, but demanding from him to take his pants of only earns me more of his bitching.

I know how the bloke ticks. All I have to do is challenge him and he drops his pants like a professional.

The bruises left on his body piss me off more than the probably should, but at the same time I feel as possessive as I would over my hat or over my beloved Sheila.

Behavior like that is unlikely for me and goes against all the professional excuses I made for myself all the time.

To cover my insecurity on the matter I begin to taunt him, but I didn’t expect him to not even try to convince that he didn’t do what I surely saw him doing.

Sometimes I’m afraid of myself. I know that this war changed me and I know that it is the same for everyone else trapped in this hellhole, but I get scared none the less.

It’s not natural. Right about now I want to hurt him, to break him to the point that he is useless for anyone but me. I want to tie him down and completely ruin him.

I abuse him verbally and hurt his already injured leg and I can’t find it in myself to make it stop.

It’s as if I switched into auto-pilot and I’m just as horrified as he is.

I pin him to the wall and bite into his neck so hard that the taste of blood is so strong on my tongue that I think I need to chunder any incoming moment, but at the very moment I’m ecstatic to mark him as mine, to overwrite the claim someone else left on him.

I come to my senses again as he socks me in the chin none too gently. There wouldn’t have been any problem to pin him right back down and punish him, but the look on his face makes me stop however.

It’s the kind of face someone shows when they were betrayed by someone they trusted. It’s the kind of face my father made when he first found out about Steven.

Softly he pushes at my shoulders and without realizing it I let him go.

He limps out the door without another word.

Maybe I really made a Blue, I realize as I sink to the floor in a boneless heap, the metallic taste of betrayal strong on my tongue.[/aa]

16 . Name: Cas @ 2012-07-05 05:58

Haha, I am at such a loss on who to feel bad and for that I applaud you. I never been really stumped unless it is something I do not know. This story is quite touching and I do not mind the accent changes, but I am sure maybe at least one person might be finicky on it.

It was not over done however, so it should not be a problem in my eyes...in my opinion.

I am looking forward to the next update whenever it shall come!
I am really enjoying it and at the edge of my seat wondering what will happen next.

17 . Name: Anonymous @ 2012-07-05 17:47

Oh. This is going in all the right directions.
The relationship between the two of them is quite interesting and
I hope to see more of this soon!

18 . Name: Chikkadii @ 2012-07-05 19:48

Oh dear, this is absolutely lovely. And I had so feared it would not be updated.

Their dynamic - poor Scout! I cannot wait to see how he interpreted their encounter!

19 . Name: YannaChan @ 2012-07-08 08:25

Chapter 8
Examination

_______________________

Even though I’m sure to get yelled at for it by the Soldier later, I had skipped out on the rest of the battle. Of course I had tried to patch my leg up on my own, but every time I made a new attempt in seemed like it only got worse, so I just stopped and decided to lie in bed until the doc comes back to base.

After an hour I grow bored in my room and head over to the showers. It’s a good idea, I decide, since I can avoid any contact with my other teammates later. Most of all there is one in particular that I wouldn’t like seeing around my naked ass anytime soon if at all.

I undress and throw my dirty clothing into the laundry basket. While passing by, I stop in front of one of the few mirrors that are hanging along the walls of the changing room and take a short look at myself.

I look worn out as hell. My skin is partly covered in dust and dirt from my earlier fall and my eyes are reddened from little sleep and a sudden burst of emotion I had a short while ago. I can’t really examine my leg in the reflection even if I get real close to the mirror and angle my head since it’s only one of those upper top ones, not that I would really need to see it to know that it’s fucked up.

The bruise on my neck got bigger. It is a nasty mix of blue, violet and green, dried up blood clinging to the edges of the wounds where the snipers teeth entered by force. I start up the basin and scrub the wound gently.

Did he really mean to hurt me? Well, he sure did in more ways than one.

What the fuck did he think he was doing anyways? Just marking me like property. Might as well just take out a hot iron and burn my behind with it.

That fucker.
The guy sure like he was ashamed himself after it since I could just sorta punch him off. My blows are not weak but anything, but I always imagined that he had learned kick-boxing with kangaroos back in the Outback.

After finishing that task, I start up one of the showers and do my usual cleaning duty. The soap stings in my eyes and they tear up and god knows why, but I get angry at a fucking bar of soap. I think I’m growing insane and completely unstable at this point.

The clothes in my locker smell stoic. I wish mom could sent me the washing powder she always uses at home one of these days, so the shirt would strike me as alien every single time I pull it over my head and get a good whiff of it.

A familiar phantom scent still tingled in my nose and man, I long to get more of it. It’s like a drug to me and none of that cheap crap either. I wanna get high on it, but I’m probably just speaking out of delirium right now anyways.

A few moments before the tale telling announcement echoes through the battlements I finish up and limp over to the doc’s office. I only have to wait for a short time, since the German always checks up with his office first before heading over to the dining hall.

The doctor is extremely hung up on routine. He is a man of habit and everyone knew when and where to look for him if there were in need of his help which is pretty nice I guess.

“Herr Scout? What are you doing here?” The dark-haired looks surprised but gets over it rather quickly and just sets the Medigun and Bonesaw down on the table to take off his heavy overcoat.

“My leg has been acting up since yesterday.” Whenever I’m in his office, I suddenly become nervous. One of my nervous habits is tapping my foot which used to annoy the shit out of my family whenever I had fucked up on an exam back in school and wanted to admit it at dinner.

“Please take off your trousers and settle on the examination table then.” His only answer of approval is a silent nod and gets to work right away.

“Tell me when it hurts, Junge.” He tucks, presses and angles it and man it hurts quite a lot.

“Ouch.” My whole body flinches and he pulls away.

“Mein Gott…Why didn’t you come here sooner? It’s probably fractured by the looks of it. How could you even walk on it?”

“I couldn’t…Most of the day at least.” It’s impossible to admit that I hadn’t come to him the other day because I was busy being a sobbing mess most of the time. He looks disapprovingly at me, making me feel like a child being scolded for being a bad boy.

There is moment of silence as he went to pick up the Medigun.

“This one got worse as well, didn’t it?” He points to my neck and starts up the device.

“Yeah…” I rub at the spot without really realizing it.

“This may sting a little bit.” One might think he is worrying about hurting his patients until he sees the sadistic twinge in his eyes.

Another minute passes with the soft humming and I close my eyes as I feel my leg being patched up. It is always an awkward feeling when the whole healing process that would normally take a few days or weeks is speed up to only a moment.

“Seltsam*…” The German mumblings catch my attention once again.

I just tilt my head a few degrees to one side in question.

“May I ask where you got the bruise?” He leans back in the chair that he pulled up for comfort and pushes his glasses up his nose with his index finger.

“Why…?” I begin tapping my foot rapidly.

“The medigun can’t heal it. I haven’t seen this before. ” Strictly watching me he crosses his arms and leaning further back, making himself comfortable.

“Maybe it’s because the wound is older already?” I don’t really want to talk about it. I really don’t. I would love to just forget the whole incident, but he wouldn’t have it.

“Nein, that isn’t the case. So where or rather from who did you get this?”

“The Sniper…” I mumble incorrectly under my breath, my face heating up in embarrassment at the same time my stomach clenched up painfully.

“Oh my…What a surprise.” Just as I think that he will go full out Nazi on me any moment, he smiles pleasantly at me. “There is no shame in it.”

“Really?”

“Ja. There is no shame in seeking intimacy in a war.” The way he talks and looks tells me that he has someone in this base the same way I had before-

Okay, I have to stop thinking about that right away.

“Well jeez, if you say so…”

“Although I don’t care about your orientation, Junge, I would suggest you to cover it up before someone less tolerant takes notice of it.” He handed me one of those big band-aids.

“Thanks doc.” My smile is small and maybe a little watery, but somehow I know that he won’t judge or make fun of me if I show some emotions just once in a while.
__________________
*seltsam = strange

20 . Name: Rex @ 2012-07-08 14:01

YEEEEEEEEEEEEES an update!

I feel bad for the Scout. He just has terrible luck, doesn't he?
At least Medic seems to understand somewhat. I can't wait to see what happens next!

21 . Name: Anonymous @ 2012-07-09 00:17

Aw it's nice to see Medic is so kind to scout.
I'll be waiting for the next update.

also, may I add, Could I draw some art for this?

22 . Name: YannaChan @ 2012-07-17 21:31

21 Draw away on that fanart, anonymous. This installment is kinda short I gotta admit, but meh...better than none.
___________________

Chapter 9
Apron Affair

____________________

The events of the last days didn’t leave my mind even after leaving the doctor’s office, but that’s not too surprising since it had been on my mind 24/7.

The Australian hadn’t believed me. That bastard just completely doubted what I was saying even though it had been the truth!

Well, most of it anyways.

Yeah, I know how I sometimes exaggerate the fuck out of old stories and such, but that’s something different. Those are things it’s okay to not be exactly accurate about.

I’m far from a saint and hell, I sure told my fair share of lies when I was still a little boy, but man, you should be able to relate. I mean which boy actually agrees that the baseball that broke the neighbors’ window and hit the family dog unconscious was his?

None, exactly!

However the look on Sniper’s face reminded me of my mom’s whenever she caught me lying.

But this is different than all my childhood experiences. It hurt far more than a disappointed mother and worse is that a tiny part of me feels like I deserve it.

I’m on my way to help Engineer out with cooking up dinner. Soldier is probably somewhere around there too, but I already prepared myself for the bitching that I’m sure to receive.

Maybe I jinxed myself, because he is right up in my face before I can eve walk into the living room.

“WHERE WERE YOU IN THE LETHAL MOMENT OF BATTLE, YOU FILTHY MAGGOT?!” His eyes are slightly visible from my perspective and he is downright glaring at me as if I slept with his mom or something.

“I got my leg broken.” I lie through my teeth.

“BULLSHIT!” The thick veins in his neck seem to almost pop out of his skin and some salvia is flung through the air. “I WAS MISSING AN ARM FOR MOST OF THE BATTLE AND I STILL WERE THERE AND FOUGHT!”

“Well, I couldn’t even stand on it anymore, so…” Mumbling never went well with our Soldier.

“DID I ALLOW YOU TO TALK BACK TO ME?!” His index finger prods my chest forcefully. “AS LONG AS YOU DO HAVE ATLEAST ONE LEG, YOU GO ON AND FIGHT, UNDERSTAND!?”

“Yeah…” The feeling of being scolded like a little brat comes back full force.

“I’M YOUR LEADING OFFICER HERE!”

“Yes sir!” I straighten up and salute. The American storms past me, of to whatever the hell he is doing when he actually has some free time; Probably polishing his guns- like in the serious non-sexual way.

Walking into the living room, I catch a nosy glance from Frenchie. Well, of course he would be doing what he does best and that is being a complete creep most of the time. My annoyed glance seems to get the message across pretty fast since he turns to his documents again.

Demoman is getting wasted on the couch right next to him, but since he is a calm and quiet drunk, he doesn’t seem to interrupt Spy none.

No one else is here yet, but the smell that’s slowly seeping from the kitchen will probably change that rather quickly. I walk in there as if I own the place, but almost fall to my butt as soon as I see what’s going down in here.

The stocky Texan is standing in front of the stove cooking. It’s nothing unusual. What strikes me as weird however is the apron tied around his front. It’s nothing girly, just a plain white-greyish thing that has a little bow in the back.

“What are you laughing at, boy?” The other is missing his trademark goggles and helmet as he does most of the time off the battlements. He frowns at me.

“You look ridiculous!” His eyes tighten even more.

“Well, I’m rather clean and tidy instead of dirty. Judge me if you dare.” He crosses his arms and broadens his stance.

“I’m sorry; I didn’t mean it THAT way.” Without having to speak it out more clearly, we both know what I’m referring to.

I often have some friendly battering with him and in the past the word “queer” had gone out of my mouth. After that he ignored me for two weeks straight until I went up to him and asked what went up his ass and died. Texas is far last granting with homosexuality than the rest of the United States that’s all I’m gonna say.

“I’m gonna teach you something about respect right now.” He unties the apron and holds it out to me. “Now you give it a try.”

“But…I don’t wanna.”

“It’s not always about your wants, boy. Put it on.” Somehow I didn’t really see the point in resisting the unexpected dominant guy too much, so I just went with it. However, I had a weird feeling like I was being some kind of cross-dressing pervert as I wrap it once around my back and tie it in the front since is it’s far too long to wear it another way.

“You feel queerer now?” The guy sits down on a nearby chair and watches me, while a small almost creepy smile finds its way onto his face.

“Not at all.” The whole situation is embarrassing more than just a bit, but I try to hide it as best as I can. “You know what? You just chill there and I’m gonna finish up dinner.

I make a silent promise to myself that from now on I will do what I can to forget about that asshole, even if that means ruining dinner for the whole team.

23 . Name: Anonymous @ 2012-07-17 22:51

oh man, i screamed! An update!
and aww, This was short but it seemed kind of calming.
also here it is, it's just a sketch but I wanted to do something for this.
http://img36.image_shack.us/img36/9949/letmemarkmyproperty.png

I forget how links work here because I mostly just lurk around
but just take off the underscore between "image"and "shack".
Hopefully I did this right.
Delete Post:  
Report Post:  
More...
Captcha
24


- kusaba x 0.9 + Took 0.05s -
Copyright © 2007-2013 TF2chan. All rights reserved.
All trademarks and copyrights on this page are owned by their respective parties. Images uploaded are the responsibility of the Poster. Comments are owned by the Poster.