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=\\TACTICAL WAIFUS QUEST//=

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Part 104 Tactical cutes!
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    • =\\TACTICAL WAIFUS QUEST//=
    Part 105: Tactical Cutes!    ​

    "Nope," you said. Well, not said really. The word came rolling past your lips without any conscious thought. It wasn't really a word even. Less an enunciated bit of rhetorical diction and more a primal noise in the negative. You didn't have to think, your body made its contention with the frankly laughable idea that Riley was rapidly nearing her sell-by date known without involving your brain.

    You could feel Riley's magnificent thighs tense under your head. They were soft, softer than any pillow you'd ever rested your head against. But her ropes of muscle pulled taut as drawn steel. She was tense.

    More than that she was scared. You could feel her veins flood with adrenaline. You heardher heartbeat kick into overdrive. She was a smart girl. No doubt that brain of hers was screaming along trying to place your simple utterance into proper context. Knowing her, at least a few of her extrapolations took her to a very bad place.

    "Hell no," you said, trying to reassure her. You tried to lift yourself up off her lap. The angle was all wrong. You had to put one hand against the meat of her leg, right under the cuff of her stocking. You felt her flinch away from your touch for an instant before settling down again.

    "Boss?" She ran a hand down your shoulder. Her fingers were trembling. She'd asked a direct question. She knew she'd get an answer, but… would it be the answer she was hoping for. "

    "You're not too old." You turned to look her right in those kind blue eyes. You shook your head. The girl was twenty-four. Twenty five soon. A grown woman. A kind, sweet soul who just happened to kill men with her thighs with a regularity both alarming and arousing. "For this, for me… for… any of it. You're just right."

    "H-huh?" She looked at you. Or… more like she looked through you. Her body was tense, her reflexes kicking in. It was all muscle memory at this point. The weapon had come out, while she heard what you were saying she was too scared to really process it.

    "Riley," You reached forward and let your nose kiss hers. Her face was flush against yours, her skin so soft and smooth. She blinked, her fluttering lashes batting away great gobs of tears that welled up in instants. She blinked again, her mouth spitting into a lopsided smile.

    "Boss…" Her freckled cheeks squished like fresh-baked chocolate chip cookies. "I don't… I didn't…" She shook her head, cheeks glistening with tears now. "I'm sorry, I'm no good at this…"

    "No, Riley." You brushed her rusty red hair back over her ear. "You're really not."

    She laughed and let her head fall forward against yours. Her nose nuzzled yours, her warm cheek cradled yours. Her hair smelled of honey and gunpowder.

    You let your hand fall down her side. You hesitated for the briefest of moments at her breast, keeping your hand near, but not quite on that part of her super-humanly beautiful body you knew Riley was self-conscious about. "You're just right," you repeated, trailing down to her swooshy hip and giving it a little squeeze.

    Riley sniffed and looked up at you. "I thought I was prepared for this," she said lamely.

    "It's okay," you cradled her as best you could. Which was easier said than done. She was about as tall as you were, and nearly all muscle. Most of which was turning to jello in your hands. "Love's hard for everyone."

    "Love," she said. Like she'd just realized there was a word for what she was feeling. Or at least, like she just realized what the word really meant. "Right… yeah. Love." She nodded.

    You looked at her. Those soft, kind eyes. Her squished cheeks and dopey grin.

    Oh, fuck it.

    You leaned in and planted a kiss right on her cheek. Not the lips, not yet. You didn't know if… well… you were pretty sure a kiss on the lips would completely break Riley. It wasn't fair to throw her into the deep end like that, the poor girl had to learn to walk before she could run. "There. Better?"

    She nodded happily.

    You scooted over beside her. She slumped against you, resting her head on your shoulder. For what felt like hours the two of you just… sat. Splayed out on the floor resting on each other.

    "You know," you said. "I'm not one of your girls."

    "I know," she said softly.

    "But… you're one of mine," you said. "And that means…" you trailed off. "I don't know what it means, but it means something.

    "Boss," Riley laughed. "You're no good at this."

    "And you are?" you jabbed her playfully in the ribs. Which turned out to be a bad idea, her lats were so toned you ended up jamming your finger a little against her muscle.

    "No," said Riley. "But I was raised as a weapon, remember? What's your excuse."

    You mumbled something inconsequential. Riley stifled a giggle. "Uh," you coughed. "You said something about singing to me?"

    "Boss," Riley didn't bother opening her eyes. "Right now I couldn't remember the words if my life depended on it. Can I just say here for a bit?"

    You put your arm around her spindly little waist and held her close. "Sure, Riley."

    >No vote tonight! Next post will be a scene change leading into the next art. Enjoy your progress along the Riley route!
     
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    • Part 105: The calm before the storm, but after the other storm
  • Threadmarks
    • =\\TACTICAL WAIFUS QUEST//=
    Part 105: The calm before the storm, but after the other storm    ​


    Your name is Riley Sharpe. You weren't sure how long you spend in the Major's arms. You knew it wasn't long enough. Just… just letting him know how special he was to you felt like dropping your ruck after a long run and slipping into a hot bath. You didn't realize the stress, the tension you'd been carrying in ever muscle and tendon until it was finally out in the open.

    And then! Then he reciprocated. Sort of. Well… he didn't outright reject you, which was about as much as you could've hoped for. Actually… it's exactly what you wouldhave hoped for. The Major is, above all, a good man. The best, really. You knew he wouldn't jump into things rashly.

    As much as a certain part of your brain—and… elsewhere—would've loved to sweep his desk clean and start checking headspace… you weren't the only girl in his life. You weren't even the only girl head-over-heels in love with him! He had Shelby's emotions to worry about, Marie's too. You knew he'd take time to process, and… honestly… it's why you loved him so much.

    You wanted him of course. But you knew that even if he settled down with one of the other girls, he'd treat them as best as girls could be. That… that made you feel better. Feel happy. You closed your eyes and snuggled up a little tighter. You hadn't spend enough time in his arms.

    But also… you'd spend too much. You had a mission after all. A dictator in the Philippines that only you could get close to. Well, for certain definitions of close. Nobody could get onto his private island fortress. But at least a pretty girl in a slick swimsuit could get close. Close enough to fight your way in.

    You let The Major tend to his own duties—and let that nose heal. None of you would ever let him live that down. Shelby and her squad already had dinner ready, and you absentmindedly wolfed down your usual evening meal. You're long since hoping that you could trick your body into filling out through sheer force of will, so you just enjoyed it for what it was.

    Honestly, Shelby's cooking wasn't spicy enough for your taste. But you knew she didn't like it when you drenched her cooking in cayenne so you made do. It didn't matter really. You were too wired after what'd happened to focus on your meal. You were too wired to sit still, really. You barely managed to clean your plate, which was odd considering how fast your metabolism was.

    After what happened with the Major… the mission you had coming up… you were wired. Like someone'd poured coffee right into your veins. There was no way you'd be sleeping tonight, at least for a few hours. After settling your dishes in the sink, you headed out to the range.

    Nothing like a few mags of .308 to calm you down. You dumped a fifty round drum in one loooong burst into nothing in particular. It made you feel a little better. You knocked the spent mag out with the heel of your hand and fished around for another.

    "Riley?" Shelby's soft, strong accent sounded from behind you. She was quiet at the best of times, and unlike her rifle your gun roared on full-fun.

    "Hey," You smiled. How could you not. You'd just had some quality time with The Major. "What's up?"

    "I…" Shelby paused. She blinked and adjusted her skinny little tie. She always did look good in a tie. Very ladylike. Not a look you could pull off of course. But one you could appreciate. "I would like to ask you the same question."

    You let your hands fall to your hips. A gentle evening breeze rustled your miniskirt. "You mean…"

    "With The Major," said Shelby. She gulped and glanced down range. If you were nervous confessing your feelings to him, it was nothing on Shelb right now. "I… understand that you spend some time with him."

    "'s no secret," you said.

    "Right," Shelby blushed and glanced at her toes. "But what…" She shook her head with a scowl. "Do I… is there hope?"

    >Wat do?
     
  • Threadmarks
    • [X] Hope springs eternal.
    -[X] Also knowing our luck we're gonna get stuck in the fish tank like I did so someone had to make sure he doesn't trip on a crayon or something.
     
    [X] Hope springs eternal.
    -[X] Also knowing our luck we're gonna get stuck in the fish tank like I did so someone had to make sure he doesn't trip on a crayon or something.
     
    [X] Hope springs eternal.
    -[X] Also knowing our luck we're gonna get stuck in the fish tank like I did so someone had to make sure he doesn't trip on a crayon or something
     
    [X] Hope springs eternal.

    I dunno if I want the subvote, it kind of feels like they're infantilising the Major (and I know he let a pistol recoil into his face.) Just... seems weird to me.
     
    [X] Hope springs eternal.
    -[X] Also knowing our luck we're gonna get stuck in the fish tank like I did so someone had to make sure he doesn't trip on a crayon or something
     
    [X] Hope springs eternal.
    -[X] Also knowing our luck we're gonna get stuck in the fish tank like I did so someone had to make sure he doesn't trip on a crayon or something.

    Relax, Shelby. Half the reason the major has not picked any one of you is that he doesn't want to have to exclude the other two.
     
    [X] Hope springs eternal.
    -[X] Also knowing our luck we're gonna get stuck in the fish tank like I did so someone had to make sure he doesn't trip on a crayon or something.
     
    [X] Hope springs eternal.
    -[X] Also knowing our luck we're gonna get stuck in the fish tank like I did so someone had to make sure he doesn't trip on a crayon or something.
     
    Look, Major James Ryan is the textbook definition of a schlimazel. Merriam-Webster defines 'schlimazel' as "a consistently unlucky person", which fits the Major's description head on: Breaks his ankle (promoted to Major), gets smothered in boobs ( gets smothered in boobs), gets shot at by terrorists in Suburbia (no pros here), has to comfort Shelby + Riley + Hannah (with hugs, sleeps and headpats), and now breaks his nose (and hugs Riley).

    The Good Major can no more change his misfortunate nature or happenstance than a frog might achieve immortality.
     
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