#also sorry for the filled out one but I lost the file (some of these are like 2 years old)

[sneezegoblin]

Happy Valentines Day!! I present u with these trashy french guy themed cards!!!!

Now go and harass your loved ones with these eye sores <3

[luminatricky]

Vampire? In Gotham! (part 3)

Summary: the batfam have a meeting, Constantine got a little too lost in the sauce when crafting Danny's sob story, and we find out what Dracula's been up to all these years. Oh and the DC version of Vlad is fully dead? More at 9

Relationships: the batfam

on god I spent too much time thinking about danny's vampsona. he's got two outfits so far. no I didn't make a concept board. no I didn't make a picrew. I don't know what you're talking about

(sorry if this is all horribly ooc I struggled a bit with making this intelligible)

Red Hood doesn't usually leave Crime Alley. That's a known fact. But Batman doesn't usually call a meeting that includes Red Hood. The old man learned years ago not to involve him unless it's important with a capitol I.

Pulling into the Batcave, Jason slows to a stop on his motorcycle. He follows the voices of his family to the Batcomputer. Everyone is in full gear, but not everyone is fully present.

Dickhead was ransacking the medical room for...blood bags? Barbie and Replacement carved out a corner to the right of the main computer. They'd set up a foldable table for their personal laptops, sitting side by side as they quietly schemed together. Damian was working hard on some sort of artwork with a similar table to the left. He stuck his tongue out in concentration. Adorable.

Bruce was pulling up a very old case file in the central system. It looked to be a string of serial disappearances.

Jason wasn't the last to arrive for once. The elevator to the manor dings behind him. Alfred and the rest of the brood step out into the cave, carrying weapons and gadgets by the armful. Old looking Batarangs, glorified flashlights, cases upon cases of the anti-toxin epipens filled with unfamiliar blue formula. And wooden stakes.

Like a good grandson he steps up to help lighten Alfred's load, but he only gets two steps in before the old butler gives him a very disapproving eyebrow raise. Jason retreats with his hands up. He turns back to Bruce.

"This better be a bloodsucker apocalypse or you won't see me til Christmas."

Bruce pulls up a detailed list of the weapons and their uses on screen. Everyone stops what their doing and takes a picture with their phones. Garlic Batarangs, flashlights with artificial sunlight, a cure for vampirism. Wooden stakes need no introduction or explanation, except for why his dad - who is very against killing to put it fucking gently - would be giving them a vamp equivalent of a gun.

"Potentially," Bruce says. "We need to draw up new contingencies. But we also need to debrief so we have all the facts to do so."

Surprisingly, both Duke AND Tim groan. Jason understands Duke. The teen does not have the patience - ahem, attention - to learn all the contingencies at once. Which Bruce recently subjected him to from what he's gleaned from the sibling group chat.

But Tim? Making and learning ridiculous lists is the guy's bread and butter, the freak. So why -

"C'mon Bruce. What we know so far about the guy makes it seem he might be genuine. We do not have to plan a murder yet. Murder is messy - and wrong, definitely wrong." Tim tacks the last part on way too quickly for anyone here to believe that's what he actually feels. Hah. Another one straying off the path of the No Kill Rule. He can't wait to hear the details when one of their siblings interrogates him about it later.

Bruce exhales through his nose. He puts the previous topic away in favor of pulling up a picture of a middle-aged man with glacial blue eyes. His face is long and angular, and he wears old style European clothes that screams 'I'm an old rich vampire, come stake me'. Jason snorts - something about his face is so punchable.

"Dr. Alucard seemed genuine at first, too." He pulls up a picture of the same man, but this time with sunken in cheek bones. His salt and pepper hair is fully bleached, and his eyes glow unnervingly. It's a candid of him mid-fight in the Batcave, a furious snarl on his lips, baring some wicked fangs at a young Batman. "Or should I say, Dracula." He's answered with a round of gasps.

Jason's starting to see how every single one of them ended up as (melo)dramatic little shits.

He puts the pictures away. "Around the time when I was first starting out, the Penguin accidentally freed him from where he was sealed in Gotham's cemetery." Bruce begins. Jason wonders with a tight chest just what was wrong with that place. Why do the dead keep coming back to life there?

If he had a nickel...

Bruce pulls up the headlines of the 'Lost Ones' case. Jason opens his mouth to comment, but Dick beats him to it. "They seriously thought it was Batman? C'mon! How incompetent is the GCPD?"

Jason scoffs. "Says the fucking cop."

"Ex-cop, thank you. And I worked in Bludhaven before I figured out they were just as corrupted and rooting that out from the inside was a terrible plan."

"Anyone coulda told you that," Duke snarks. Jason backs him up. "Your problem is you always want to give people the benefit of the doubt when you shouldn't."

"Boys." Bruce interrupts. They all stop at the tone he uses. Alfred clears his throat, and answers Dick's rhetorical question from earlier. "That was unfortunately a common occurrence when Master B was a young bat. It would do you all well to be mindful of keeping your reputations positive amidst suspicion."

Jason doesn't laugh out of respect for Alfred - he was so not talking about him. He needs to do the opposite of spit rainbows out his ass to be effective.

"Oh my God is that why Bruce keeps gatekeeping everyone he meets? He's hazing them like a vigilante initiation ritual?" Steph whispers to Cass. He hears her softly laugh in response as she nods.

"I agree with Grayson. The GCPD are fools to think that if Father were a serial killer or trafficker that they'd ever even know. He is better than that." The demon brat brags.

Bruce huffs fondly. "It's a good thing I'm not." He gestures to the weapons. "We fought. He'd started turning people left and right, making them mind controlled vampire pawns. The Joker got turned-"

Jason's vision floods green. "And you didn't fucking stake him? Even more fucking dangerous -"

"-and I managed to capture him at a blood bank before he could do more than destruction of private property." Bruce raises his voice over him. Jason clenches and unclenches his fists. He itches to shoot something, to break something, to get relief to this God forsaken green-flavored, rage-filled pressure starting to boil over in his chest at the reminder of his murderer.

Blessedly everyone shuts the fuck up as he tries to not blow his top. Bruce should've staked him. He had the perfect excuse all lined up, and the opportunity, and goddamit Barbara wouldn't be in a wheelchair and Duke's parents would be fine and Jason wouldn't have come back evil -

Bruce isn't and wasn't evil, he reminds himself. Not like Jason is. And it's not helpful to blame him for his nature right now when they need to fucking debrief. Woulda-coulda-shoulda's are for chumps.

When he blinks back the green, shoved it down to where it's there but managed, his family haven't moved an inch from where they had been. It's a small but meaningful relief to see that they hadn't taken defensive positions like they would've in the past. They just untensed as Jason's arms stopped trembling from supernatural rage.

No one calls attention to his near-episode further, and he's grateful. "I took him back to the cave. With his blood samples I managed to create a cure for the thralls. They all went back to their everyday lives without any memories of what happened. Joker is no exception."

Which is code for, 'I found a reason to bypass normal ethics and experiment on the Joker for the greater good and yes I still remember which cell he was in. It was the highlight of that week.' It makes him feel marginally better and worse in equal measure. Where the fuck was that energy when he kicked the bucket? (Superman, was where. They already had this conversation)

"At that time Wayne Enterprises had been taking it's first steps into solar energy. When Dracula invaded the cave, we were able to survive due to the stored sunlight that the proto-type gathered."

"Wait. No, wait. Hold on. The urn on the fireplace? Please tell me that's a grandma we don't talk about." Duke pleads. "Please. It's not Kentucky Fried Vampire. Please."

When Bruce doesn't say anything for way too long, Steph nearly chokes on trying to hold back her laughter. Alfred clears his throat. "Batman was rather hurt after the altercation. And Dr. Alucard was rather rude in how he barged in - uninvited! I found it suitable that if he insisted on destroying the decorations, that he should contribute."

Steph full out cannot stop once it begins. Everyone else stares dumbfounded either at Bruce or Alfred. Dick looks like he's about to have an aneurysm. Duke is regretting his life decisions, probably the ones about joining this family. Damian is not comprehending the issue with any of this, expecting a follow up anytime soon. Cass shakes her head, but Jason hears a quiet "grandma dracula is disappointed".

He doesn't know how to feel other than dear Lord please he cannot laugh. No matter how absurd this is. He sounds ridiculous in his helmet.

"...leaving the ashes unattended would spell disaster in the wrong hands," Bruce clarifies once the giggles fall away, "Dracula kidnapped Vicky Vale to use her soul in resurrecting his wife from her ashes. Letting Alfred hide it in plain sight didn't sound like a bad enough idea to try to stop him."

"Precisely, Master Bruce." The butler approves.

"Damn. That's just cold." Dick remarks. He pinches the bridge of his nose with his free arm. "I would ask what the hell he deserved that for but he's literally an ancient evil vampire, so." His older brother jostles the blood bags he's cradling. "Hopefully this guy's an unrelated friendly."

Duke whines in the back of his throat. Jason squeezes his shoulder in sympathy.

"Tonight?" Cass redirects.

"Tonight I came across the unknown on our usual route. I had Robin stay back when I spotted him a distance away. He'd been running across rooftops, watching the people below. I followed for half a block before he walked down the side of a building and into an alley right on the border of Park Row."

"Crime Alley." Jason corrects.

"Crime Alley," Bruce amends. "Once there, he paused for a moment, searching the crowds for something. He took out a clear canister filled with a dark red liquid. It had the same viscosity as blood."

"Where's he getting the blood from? There hasn't been anymore blood bank robberies, attempted or otherwise. And no one's turned up with weird wounds, dead or alive." Steph pipes up. Babs lifts her hand up as she adds her two cents. "Unlessss, mystery teeth here is using the same tactic Drac did. If he's just arriving then we shouldn't be noticing anything just yet."

Bruce holds up a gloved finger in a 'I wasn't done' gesture. "When I approached, the unknown claimed that the canister was a synthesizer when asked. I couldn't detect any lie in his body language or voice. He then introduced himself as 'Dante Nightingale', but asked to be called Danny, which either means he's a modern vampire or an old one who is familiar with the times. I then confronted him about stalking humans from an alleyway. He revealed intel that will be worrying if confirmed."

Jason hums. "Sounds like this guy might not be the supernatural flavor of creep, at least," he mutters under his breath.

Tim raises his hand next. "From what B told me earlier, Danny said that there was some weird ghostly-doppelganger-vampire activity that our suspect hasn't seen before. The behavior, not the creatures." Tim pushes up his blue light glasses as he takes a breath. "Anyways. The info on Shades checks out. The JLD records told me all about them. Show of hands if anyone's seen Appalachia Tik Tok?"

Oh Jason doesn't like where this is going. Alfred (surprisingly), Cass, Dick, Babs, Steph, and Duke all put their hands up too.

Tim goes on. "The mimics? Shades are like that, but with a life force sucking aspect. They're basically ghosts who never were alive and didn't form right, so they eat human emotions until they become fully sentient ghosts called Specters. In a really creepy 'I'm going to replace you' way. So. Bad stuff."

Jason shivers when Bruce nods. "Nightingale claims that they're walking the streets in unusual numbers. That he had just arrived and in Gotham and that he was exploring tonight when he noticed something off."

"Ohhhhkay! Just what we needed, yeah? Invisible monsters in Gotham!" Dick says. "Quick, scratch that off the bingo."

Tim rolls his eyes. "Do we have a description? Power set, background check? I need everything I can to narrow down which type of vamp in the database." He's tapping away at his laptop again, not looking up as he types.

Bruce motions for Damian to come closer. The demon brat hands off the artwork he'd been quietly working on as they talked. Bruce observes it, before nodding at where Damian stands at attention like a good little soldier. Damian preens.

Jason blinks away the green.

Their dad scans the sheet with a device, and the image pops up on the main computer. The man in the portrait has pale skin - obviously. Fangs - no duh. Although notably shaped differently from Drac's. Claws a good few inches long and white in color. Jason spies an interesting ring. It's crown shaped and encased in fake(?) ice. Freckles on his rounder face, framed by wispy-looking stark white hair. Skeleton earrings, black turtleneck, a white blouse with a ridiculously low vee neck tucked into green pants. A delicate chain in the shape of a spiderweb wraps around his covered throat in a pleasing contrast.

The man's eyes are a hauntingly familiar shade of green. He sees it often.

The pupils glow a lighter hue of lazarus, shaped like four-pointed stars. Jason would say the guy looks more like a fae took a dip in the Pits than bloodsucker. But what does he know? Guy didn't deny the blood drinking accusations for fuck's sake.

Babs jumps in again. "We had B give Robin a description because apparently his presence is a hell of an EMP. Video feed and coms went down as soon as Batman joined him in the alley. So a few feet away." She clicks a few things on her own screen, and then starts reading down some sort of list she typed up for herself.

"Dante Nightingale, aged nineteen. A farm boy from Illinois. Parents Robert and Jane Nightingale. No other relatives. Totally normal until he was struck by lightning at thirteen and his metagene activated, giving him minor power over ice and sensitivity to heat." She taps something on her computer and a young Danny Nightingale jumps next to Damian's portrait. The black haired boy has a big goofy grin on his even rounder face, splattered with freckles. In this picture, it's obvious that although he's trying to look happy for picture day, the kid had serious bags under his eyes, and a look in those clear blues that just screamed that Danny had seen some awful things. "Then at fourteen, the whole family got into a car crash. Robert and Jane died on scene, while Dante lasted three days in the hospital before going missing entirely."

Babs pushes up her glasses and takes a deep steadying breath. "The nurses on duty reported a change in hair and eye color, as well as strange dental elongation in the canines. Paired with uncontrollable ice stronger than recorded earlier, this led them to believe that Danny's metagene strained under the new trauma and started causing physical mutations alongside the modifications to his original ability. But I think we all know what was actually happening to him."

"...What else do we know about the kid?" Dick asks. Anyone who didn't know him would say that Dick was relaxed, but Jason and anyone else who knew him could clearly see that Danny's story hit a little too close to home. Dead parents in an 'accident' where the kid was there to see. Yeah.

Heh. This looks like a classic meta trafficking case, the more he follows that thought. Not the casual kind most parents have to fear - pick a kid off the street just 'cause they were there, someone will pay for 'em no matter if they're pretty or not.

No. This was targeted. Planned out weeks, months, years in advance. Someone wanted this kid for something specific - enough to murder his parents for and make it look like an accident. Likely, it was to have an ice meta under mind control, considering what Bruce said about Dracula and his thralls. If he's right, Jason might have to go all Buffy Summers and deal with them.

Jason reaches out to catch Duke by the shoulder again and this time he doesn't let go. His newest brother looks at him, big brown eyes wide and fearful. It could've been him, easy. They both think it. They both know it. Fuck, Danny was just a few years younger than he is now.

Jason squeezes. He whispers low to him. "I'd shoot them in the balls for you. Won't let 'em take you. End bloodlines if I have to, to get you back." Duke gulps, and nods. The teen squeezes his eyes shut and Jason pretends he doesn't see him quickly wipe his eyes.

"...Recently, he got legally un-declared dead, and opened a bank account. Looks like one very dead Vlad Masters left his fortune to him sometime earlier. Man owned a goddamn castle. They found a secret lab in his basement with strange equipment when they went looking for evidence. And. Oh. Oh that's not good."

"What is it?" He asked, not wanting to know the answer already.

"Police found a mystery green liquid they couldn't identify but put the composition on file. I just ran it through our systems. 70% match to lazarus water. What's more, there were blood packs close by that were heavily contaminated with the same substance." She looks like she was ready to throw up at the dots they were all connecting.

He might as well. "Alright. Meta kid's trafficked at fourteen and turned into a vampire. Spends the next five years caught by mad scientist vampires who poked and prodded at him like a rat. Then, he murders the assholes, runs off with their money, and moves to Gotham. Fuck's sake." Jason sums up.

Bruce makes a 'I'm not disagreeing with you but I have an opinion' grunt. "That's one possibility. The most likely one from what we know right now."

"But?" Someone prompts.

"But. He mentioned a term called 'Fraid'. He said that someone told him that myself and 'my Fraid' were good people. Nightingale claimed it was a cultural term for found family," Bruce explained. The man's mouth twitches into a frown. "If he was being held hostage all that time, would they have bothered to teach him that? And if they did, experimentation wouldn't be all they had wanted from him. No one would bother to teach someone disposable."

Tim stopped typing for a second, eyes widening and then blanking quick as a whip. Swallowed. Went back in with a vigor.

"So. Either. He got away from his kidnappers, and there's some found family out there somewhere. Or he never got away from them, but he was not expendable. His kidnappers may have forced him into their family." Steph reasoned out.

"Man. This is fucked up." Duke mutters. "You're telling me, kid." Jason whispers back.

Damian bristles. "Father. We have to interrogate him. Nightingale may have connections to the League of Assassins, or a similar organization run by vampires. The lazarus water is damning. We must make sure." The demon brat demands. Which. Fair. More unknown lazarus pits are just asking for evil to pull up with some friends.

Bruce makes an 'I agree with you but I'm thinking' grunt. But before he can respond, Tim cuts in. "So Fraid is definitely what he says it means. But according to the records, only the dead or undead use it. Obviously I did a little digging. Vampires don't count as either of those, even though some sleep in coffins and stuff. No, most vampires count as something called 'death touched'. Meaning they're still alive, albeit really in tune with the other side." Tim shifts, chugging a quick bit of cold coffee. "Only one match came up when I searched for undead vampire. The thing is, it exists, but the file is on the JLD's red tape section."

Which is code for 'don't fucking touch this dimwits if you value your life, call us for fucks sake'. Pleasant.

"Yes Father. If Drake is not once again wildly incorrect and foolish, Nightingale is undead. And it's obvious how." Damian presses.

"I will make the call. Red Robin, keep looking. I'll type up the rest of the abilities and send them to you all. Everyone working with me officially, no one goes on patrol alone. We work in pairs until further notice. Everyone bring with them the anti-vampire precautions we have until we have better options." Batman commands to the group. He zeroes in on Jason, and Jason gears up to rip Bruce a new one for treating him like he's still one his birds.

But that's not what happens. "And Red Hood. Just...be careful."

Instead of acknowledging the icky ooey gooey feelings, Jason snorts derisively. "I'll tell my guys and girls to keep a lookout. If anyone goes missing I'd bet ya a thousand it'll be one of mine. Everyone knows no one's gonna call the cops." He turns around and stuffs his pockets with the gadgets, and Dick threw him a blood bag. "Later assholes."

Jason revs his bike. Tonight, he'll make his rounds, doing what said he would. And hey. Probably hit up that rage room in Bristol he goes to in civvies. Crime's been real quiet recently, and he knows it's likely purposeful.

That pisses him off that they think they can hide from him forever in his own territory.

Tonight's been bad, too. He'd rather go beat up some stupid garbage than risk a pit rage on some numb nut that at most only needs a couple slices to catch his drift. Heh. He's gonna see if they'd let him tape a pic of Dracula to a TV so he can cave his face in post-mortem.

[kingofthewilderwest]

To everyone who asked, and to everyone who didn't:

Yes. I have somewhere between 1,000 and 2,000 of TwoSet's videos, all in HD quality. LINK BELOW

Earlier this year in 2024, I downloaded every single TwoSet Violin public video from their YouTube and scoured other sites like Bilibili and Facebook to get videos they'd deleted from at least one platform. My goal was to make some fandom compilation videos that'd require going through every video.

I do not have the last few months of 2024 (which I'm kicking myself for... I literally almost did a download update on SUNDAY). But I have almost everything.

2 mil, 3 mil, 4 mil, Fantasia, Hilary Hahn or Ray Chen collabs, Producer Shaun, professional versus beginner, violin charades, that cheeky skit you shared on Facebook in 2016

Their world tour VODs, including my own personal captures of their latest VOD stream

Some of the content from their Facebook kickstarter livestreams that I found from other fans.

I've been collecting all their TikTok videos currently, too. I've downloaded a spattering of their Instagram stories from 2024 and might have a small collection of recent Instagram videos, too.

I do not have everything, but I have a fuckton and I want to share it with as many people as possible, and collaborate with as many people as possible to fill in the missing pieces.

Please contact me if you have your own archives or know people working on other archives. I'm talking with a few people about starting a Google Drive project, but I don't know the big names in the TSV fandom and thus could be missing out on people who've done a lot of other work

It's more likely that this will clear over in the coming days / weeks / month / whatever and we'll have their official channel again. I'm still going to keep believing that. But it doesn't erase the importance of making sure the media we love doesn't become lost media. I have respect for content creators to monitor what does and doesn't stay on their platform, but for the sake of preservation of media, for the sake of helping a community, I want to make sure this archive is in place and widely accessible to TwoSetters.

My current cloud server is VERY MUCH a work in progress. I am in the middle of an extremely busy week and trying to do this around an office job and a half. It will take me time to upload everything, and even more time to organize everything. But the cloud server link is active, and I will keep people updated about the progress of my archiving through a PDF text file (not yet uploaded) in said cloud. If I collaborate with people for Google Drive systems, if I do other backups, I will let people know there and on my other social media accounts.

I am new and naive to Terabox. I started with Terabox because it's free to upload up to a terabyte of content. I think it should be free to download everything in full quality, but I don't know. People should inform me how it works. It's currently -- I'm sorry -- VERY poorly organized and requires Scrolling (TM), but short of that issue (which will be fixed with organization), I hope it gets people what they need.

Also: Reddit has suspended me for a few days lol (really I'm getting a slap on the wrist for how blatantly I was marching about), so if people want to start spreading this link to others in private chats elsewhere with known TwoSetters, the more the merrier! The purpose of this is to be a resource, either short-term or long-term.

[woso-dreamzzz]

Champions League

Hardersson x Child!Reader

Alexia Putellas x Hardersson!Reader

Part of The Big Adventures Universe

Summary: The second time you meet Alexia

The only fun thing about the Champions League this year is that, with Not-Wolfsburg in the final, you get to go back to Sweden.

You love going back to Sweden because it means Morsa doesn't force you to speak English all the time. It also means that you get to have your favourite foods practically on demand at the hotel and it doesn't take ages to get like when Morsa makes them at home.

"Why aren't you playing?" You ask Zećira as you all file out to sit on the bench.

She shrugs. "I think Emma has a plan."

"Momma says Barcelona is very good," You say," But they're in pink."

Zećira chuckles. "Does wearing pink mean that they can't play well?"

You shrug. "I dunno." You think for a moment. "Are the Barcelona girls cool?"

Zećira laughs again as she taps you on the nose. "Don't go turncoat on us," She says," You're a Chelsea supporter, aren't you?"

As you're talking, a deflection from Melanie tumbles into the goal and even you recognise the wince that all of the Not-Wolfsburg girls give. You've got a bad feeling that this won't go the way Momma and Morsa want it to go.

Your interest in the match dims after that until a penalty is given away. Like always when there's a penalty, you perk up and move to stand on Zećira's lap so you can see properly.

Jonna makes sure you don't wobble off and you watch with eagle eyes as Ann-Katrin goes the wrong way and the Barcelona eleven slots it home.

It's fairly impressive to watch and you're filled with that same bouncy energy you always get when you're allowed to watch penalties. It annoys Morsa and Momma, you think, the way that you're most animated watching people take penalties.

At Not-Wolfsburg, that's always when you come to take part in training. Not to shoot your own penalties, of course, but to help save the ones shot at Zećira.

Momma and Sam get some pretty good chances to shoot but it's either not on target or deflected by Barcelona's keeper.

Barcelona get another two goals in the first half and, in your heart, you know that Not-Wolfsburg has already lost so you don't even bother listening to the way the girls on the bench are trying to encourage each other to not give up hope.

But, they all seem to shut up and let everything sink in when Morsa comes beelining towards you when the halftime whistle rings. You're sitting right by the tunnel that all the players are going down.

You get up, ready to take Morsa's hand but she just falls to her knees in front of you and pulls you into the tightest hug of your life. You hug her back, feeling a little bad that the game is going this bad.

A few of the Barcelona girls do a double take as they walk past to their changing room. You're not sure why. Maybe it's because you're so little and Morsa's hugging you so tight.

Momma comes and kneels in front of you too, stroking her hand over her face and pressing her lips to your hair. She murmurs something in Danish that you can't quite hear but it makes Morsa sigh softly before releasing you.

"Sorry," You say to them both," That Not-Wolfsburg is losing."

"It's not your fault," Momma says," Come on. Let's get you nice and fed."

Coach Emma makes you leave the changing room after you've eaten. You know that means she's going to yell. She always makes you leave when she's going to yell, ever since the first time when your English was not so good and it scared you so much that you cried.

So, with your special drink and a packet of Ahlgrens Bilar, you sit outside and press your ear to the wall to try and hear what Coach Emma is saying.

The walls are thick though so you can't hear anything.

You kind of wish that you had gotten your girl-swan out of your bag because you're a little bored without it and you just have to kind of wiggle your legs on the floor to amuse yourself.

Coach Emma's still yelling and you huff and look down the corridor to the big room before the tunnel where a blur of pink is moving out to the pitch.

They're talking in Spanish like when you went to Barcelona last year with Momma and Morsa. You still don't know Spanish so you don't pay them much attention until the sounds of cleats get closer to you and you look up.

A few of the Barcelona girls have approached you, shifting on their feet like they're not too sure what to say.

You don't offer up any explanations to them. You just move to sit cross-legged in front of them and munch on your marshmallow cars. You look down at your packet briefly and then back at the girls, smiling and offering the packet up to them.

It gets smiles from them and a few even take some of your cars. The girl from the beach last year, the one with the dog who is also somehow Barcelona's eleven, crouches in front of you. This time, she doesn't try to speak Spanish at you.

"Your mamas are in there?" She asks, indicating towards the closed door of the Not-Wolfsburg changing room.

You nod.

She nods too. "And you will sit here and not wander, yes? So your mamas know where you are?"

You nod again.

She thinks for a moment. "Can I wait with you? To make sure that your mamas get you properly?"

You shrug. Coach Emma is taking longer than usual to yell at them. "Okay." You move to sit back against the wall again and take a long drink of your special drink. You don't know what it is (Momma never tells you) but it's nice and it's like being cradled up in her arms in Denmark in Momma's momma's house.

The other girls in pink head out to the pitch after beach girl tells them something in Spanish.

"You're going to win," You say simply.

It's clear that she doesn't expect you to say that because she looks at you all weird.

"Momma and Morsa are gonna be sad," You continue, squishing one of your sweets between your fingers," But that's okay 'cause Zećira says that she'll let me play in goal with her no matter what."

"You like playing in goal?"

"Uh-huh. Zećira's teachin' me. She's the best."

"Really?"

"I'm gonna be better though and I'm gonna get Momma and Morsa the Champions League medals they want."

"Princesse."

You look up to see Morsa in the doorway, her hand out waiting for you. Momma's behind her, with a much more friendly face as you approach.

"Putellas," Morsa says," What are you doing here?"

"Just keeping her company," Barcelona's eleven says," I'll...I'll go now." She heads off down the corridor and turns back to wave at you once before disappearing back through the tunnel.

"Momma?" You ask," Why's Morsa angry?"

"Morsa's just having some big feelings," Momma assures you as she walks you out and sets you up in your seat with more snacks, your baby blanket and your girl-swan," And no matter what happens, she's going to need our help with those big feelings later, okay?"

"Cuddles at bedtime?" You ask.

"Cuddles at bedtime," Momma confirms, pressing a kiss to your head before heading off to the rest of the team.

You look nervously at Zećira, leaning against her as she wraps part of her coat around you. "We're going to lose," You whisper," Morsa's going to be so sad."

It goes exactly as you expect and you feel a little wobble in your chest when the whistle goes and you see Morsa look up at the sky like she's trying not to cry.

Zećira helps you down from your seat and you sprint across the field to crash into Morsa.

She's definitely crying now and she drops to her knees and presses her chin onto the top of your head. She keeps repeating the same words to you over and over again. "I'm sorry, princesse. I'm so sorry, princesse."

You can feel her tears drip into your hair and you make sure to squeeze all of your love into the hug. "It's okay, Morsa," You say," I'll get you a gold when I'm older. I'll get Momma a gold too." You look at Momma over Morsa's shoulder. "I promise."

Momma joins the hug too as Morsa cries into your hair. "It's okay, Magda," She says," It's okay."

You stay glued to Morsa's side as Coach Emma brings everyone in for the huddle talk. Morsa's still crying slightly and you offer her your baby blanket for comfort, which she swings around her shoulders and holds like it's a lifeline.

"Momma," You whisper, tugging at her arms as you look nervously at Morsa," Momma, can we go now? Morsa needs cuddles."

"We've got to get our medals first," Momma says," Just a bit longer."

"No! Morsa needs cuddles now!"

"I know," Momma says," Just a little bit longer and we can all go back to the hotel and have lots of cuddles."

You relent briefly though it's not long before you've attached yourself to Morsa and she even carries you up onto the stage to get her medal, which immediately gets put around your neck.

"Is Morsa going to be okay?" You ask Zećira as she pulls you away to go play in goal as the Barcelona girls start getting their medals.

"Your Morsa's going to be just fine," Zećira promises you," She just needs some comfort from your Momma right now so we're going to set up here for a bit."

You look back at Morsa and Momma and then nod at Zećira. "Okay."

Even though she didn't play today, she still brought her gloves and helps you put them on.

"Okay," She says," Now, what's the most important thing when being a keeper?"

"Doesn't matter if it goes in, as long as I try," You reply.

"Good."

She takes little shots at the goal for you to save and then chips one over your head when she notices you're distracted looking at Morsa again.

Both of you completely miss the approaching figure until she stops in front of you.

"Hello again," Putellas says.

"Hi."

Zećira takes a step forward, almost protectively but Putellas doesn't seem to care, kneeling down so she can be your height and peering past Zećira's leg to properly look at you.

She's in a different shirt on now but she's still got the pink one in her hands too. Her medal is around her neck like Morsa's is around yours. She's smiling at you too, holding out the hand with the shirt to you.

You step past Zećira and cautiously reach for it. You hold it in your hand before tugging it over your head. You smile back at her.

"Can I play?"

You look at Zećira, who shrugs.

"Your choice."

You look back at Putellas. "Okay."

She kicks the ball gently at you a few times and smiles every time you make a save. Zećira stays nearby, sometimes approaching to give you little tips or to tie your hair back and adjust your gloves.

Morsa and Momma finally come over a long while later. Morsa's finally stopped crying but you don't even try to save Putellas' shot as you approach Morsa to make sure she's okay.

"Better now that I've got you," She says when you ask, heaving you up onto her hip as Momma presses ticklish kisses to your face.

Putellas stands there awkwardly, now completely outnumbered by Chelsea girls.

But Morsa smiles at her, tugging down at your new jersey. "We don't have a wall here, princesse. Why don't you go and stand next to Alexia and we can take your picture?"

You wiggle down and crowd into Alexia's space. She crouches down to your height as Momma takes out her phone. Her hand goes to rest on your shoulder as you beam up at the camera.

"That's being framed," Morsa says.

(It does get framed and put on your bedside table where it's joined over the years with pictures of you with other footballers)

Alexia awkwardly clears her throat. "Can-Can I have a copy?" She asks, almost shyly," I think it would be nice to have one to remember her by when she's the best keeper in the world."

Momma laughs in delight and nods," Put in your number. I'll send it to you."

"Best keeper in the world," Zećira says wistfully as she helps you pull off her gloves," You're going to have to keep training hard."

"She will," Morsa says," She's going to get enough medals to give out to a whole team."

[simpcityy]

I’m Not Her (Father Miguel O’Hara x Teen! Daughter Reader)

Summary: Miguel O’Hara is your biological father but it’s not great being his daughter when he’s hooked in the past still.

Disclaimer: I do not own Marvel or any of its characters. This is very short as well! Just a little prompt I thought also, I know the song is about a girl who loves a boy etc., but I thought of it more as father and daughter way. *Ahem* Him thinking of Gabi rather than the present daughter he has…I’m sorry if I confused you.

Word Count: 500

Warnings: Use of female pronouns, Use of (Y/N), angst, Father Miguel, overall, it’s just sad. Uhhh I think that is all for now.

Pt.1 Pt.2 Pt.3 Pt.4 Pt.5 Pt.6

Being the biological daughter of Miguel O’Hara has its ups and downs but mostly downs according to you. Walking through the Spider Society, you held some reports from Jess, she was on her way to hand them over to your father but seeing the kind person you are, you decided to do it for her so she can rest. You're amazed how a woman so pregnant can still fight. Walking down the halls, you were alone with your thoughts. The time he left to be a father to another girl..a girl named Gabriella…were you not enough for him? What did Gabi have that you didn’t? So many thoughts running through your head only to be snapped from hearing Mayday giggling in the room. Taking a deep breath, you pushed in ready for the chaos. “Hey! (Y/N)!” Peter smiles holding an energetic child. “Hey” You responded before looking over at Miguel who was looking at the videos that hurt you the most. Videos of him and Gabriella. You only frown a bit before masking it. “I'll just drop this off” You dropped the files onto a flat surface before walking to the door. “Hey Boo! You going to ask him?” Lyla appears in front of you smiling. You look at her and back to Miguel before shaking your head. “No…he has better things to do” You whisper walking through her, leaving. Lyla watches you staying quiet before next to Miguel. “Files were dropped.” She brought him back to reality. “Hmm? Who?” He mutters looking at the AI. He goes down his platform and picks up the files you left. “(Y/N) did, she was here not long ago” Lyla looks at her phone scrolling through it. Miguel looks at the door where you left not long ago.

Sitting out on the roof of your dimension, your thoughts only seem to be filling you up with anger. Why did he leave you to be a father for another kid…yeah, she lost her father but so did you…he left you to be with her. You groan out in frustration before looking at the time. “There is not enough time left” You mutter before getting up and going back to the house. A home where you stopped waiting for him to come home. Upon reaching your room, you changed into your pjs before walking over to the kitchen. Opening the fridge, you pulled out a cake you ordered yourself from your favorite shop. Placing it on the table, you put the candles on and sat down in front of it. “Happy Birthday to me…happy birthday to me…” You began to sing before letting out a sob. Your candles were put out from your tears. Another year alone and many more to go.

“If I could be her…but I’m not her and she’s not me.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Authors note: This was just little one-shot. An idea that always comes to mind whenever I listen to that amazing song! I am working on part 3 of the Biomedical Engineer x Miguel. Hopefully this weekend it comes out along with the last part of my first father figure Miguel x reader. Please check those out if you haven’t. I’m stuck if I should make this into a full series as well, but I don’t know if people would interest in it. Anyways, as always sorry for any grammar errors. Thank you all for the support! Remember to stay hydrated and to keep on simping! (Simp City Population: 62!) Thank you so much for the follows and please you are welcome to reblog my works for others to be aware of this new Miguel O’Hara simp writer!

[signedaiko]

Hey Aiko! Thanks for the HCs from the last request, I really enjoyed reading every word of them.

You know those math equations where they spell “I Love You” as the final answers?

Could I request HCs of [MTMTE/LL] Perceptor where Cybertronian![Reader] [Gender Neutral] has a huge crush on him and pretends to ask for his help with some equations when they’re actually confessing their love to him through the complicated numbers and symbols?

Happy Ending: He likes them back.

Perceptor X Reader [MTMTE]

In which Perceptor's lab assistant confesses in the numeric language they both work with.

Reader is: Gender Neutral | Cybertronian | Autobot. Romantic.

The science wing aboard the Lost Light had become your home the last couple of months

More specifically, Perceptor's lab, where you'd been handpicked by the scientist to assist him with research

It was a dream come true! I mean, whatever the quest the ship was on was, it was fun and all, but having read every last one of Perceptor's research papers and lab reports, it felt wrong to be the one picked to help

He was Cybertron's genius, the best of the best, and he wasn't weird about it either

Most days you'd stand in the lab, comparing and accumulating data relevant to his research, taking care of any specimen, and cleaning

Most commonly, you were tasked with chemical waste disposal; each chemical was different, and each process was longer than the last

Today, however, Perceptor tasked you with sorting through the 'other' portfolio of research data

It was a list of all kinds of extras that were never finished, tasks galore.

It was also the perfect opportunity for you to work closely with him, since he was helping you comb through it

"What about the anti-anti-matter gun?"

"Anything with the word 'gun' is just Brainstorm trying to get me to do his projects for him. Dispose of it."

While he handled the physical box of 'other' projects, you were sifting through the online database

Thankfully your job was easier because you'd been so distracted watching him across from you and mulling over your plan that you wouldn't get anywhere otherwise

Truthfully, you'd long since sorted through everything using a quick sorting algorithm, but you'd been pretending to keep busy as you contemplated the pros and cons of confessing to Perceptor

He was your boss; if he didn't feel the same, it'd be awkward working with him every day

But your work performance was dropping with all the time you spent staring at him and daydreaming of your lives together

"Sorry, Perceptor, one last question. What is this?"

It was an entry with one equation: 9x - 7i > 3(3x - 7u)

"Don't know; you can note what it solves and delete the main file."

"But what are we solving for?"

Your bait worked, and the scientist stood up to walk behind you, leaning over your chair to get a better glimpse

"Nothing, you're supposed to fill in for 'i' and 'u,' but you can simplify it."

He leaned further in to point at the brackets

"Multiply everything in there by three. Yes, just like that. So now we have 9x - 7i > 9x - 21u."

As funny as it was that he thought you couldn't calculate it on your own, you let him continue

"9x is then cancelled out on both sides, leaving you with -7i > -21u. just divide by three and then..."

"i <3 u"

"Yes, exactly, that's as simplified as you can get it until you identify 'i' and 'u'"

Your smile faltered, realizing he may have still not understood what it said

God, how could you have expected this to work?

"Thanks, Perc—"

"For example, you could substitute 'i' for 'Perceptor' and 'u' for you. Come on now, don't act like I couldn't figure out your game. You think so little of my intellect?"

When you turned to look at him, you realized he was looking at you rather than the screen, a cocky smile sprawled across his face

"I swear I don't; I was just—"

"Just what? Thinking I thought you couldn't solve simple operations? Thinking I would have 'forgotten' such a small equation in my data banks?"

You hid your face behind your hands to try and hide the blush, but Perceptor was already chuckling and pulling you up from where you sat

"Well, if it means anything..."

He reached to the keyboard, adding an extra character

'i <3 u 2'

Author's Note - I love this guy. What a fella, what an enjoyable cocky fella!!!! Thank you for requesting!

[blingblong55]

The Great War -141, Vladimir Makarov

Based on a request:

with the new mw3, lets do angst, something along the lines of "Somewhere in the haze, got a sense i've been betrayed" coming from us because 141 betrayed us horribly, which ended up in us getting tortured and then we pretennd its fine when it isnt. forget and forgive we lie and when we meet with Makarov, we tell them, 'oops sorry, forgot i was also a enemy at some point, guess its time to betray like real enemies do' and as we set Makarov free, we show that we have been working as his spy ever since they betrayed us. also can this be with a female reader and we also marry makarov behind their backs so thats why we betray so hard? i love u!

A/N: anon knew what they were doing with that ask…anyway, here you go my love…betrayal as a meal <3

--- F!Reader, soldier!reader, enemy!reader, betrayal, mentions of torture and violence

A/N: also, not much of an angst since I don't want to kill Soap in this one...but I hope you like it

[Present day]

File #21712

Name: [Readers Last, First name]

Alias: Grim

Callsign: Bravo 0-5

Gender: F

DOB: [Redacted]

Rank: 2nd Lt.

Affiliations: 

-TF 141 (Former)

-Kasper Team (dissolved)

-Konni Group (Current)

Status: Alive. Threat.

Summary:

Deadly, fast and a killing machine. Soldier was trained as a recon sniper and has been trained by allied forces as an insertion specialist. SAS has recognised this soldier as a necessity for most of its joint operations. Decorated with high awards and recognition by all military forces. TF 141 acquired soldier after a mission in Al Mazrah. Capable of killing all those that come between her and the goal, will not hesitate to harm enemies.

---------------------- 

The file was there, Laswell and all of the men in the team stared at it. What have they done, was all that played in their minds. To betray a soldier that has been wanted by all allied forces, by all teams and now losing you so quickly to a Russian group. To think your hands will be responsible for their demise. One torture room, where you begged as they did vile acts against you. Truth yelled by your gravelly throat, only to have Price ask for more of your blood. "How did he get to her so quickly?" Gaz asked, baffled to have lost you to the man you hated when this all began. "He had her all along," Kate spoke. Nikolai shook his head. "But how? We were her family," a betrayed Ghost said. "We betrayed her first," Price recalls. 

[Eight years ago]

There had been suspicion someone within the base was working with KorTac, a double agent. All fake puzzles led to an unsuspecting, then officer cadet, you. Ghost and Soap made sure to tie you nicely to a chair. The same one that watched you bleed the truth as they cut looking for lies. You were always the hunter, never the prey. "Tell us, R/N, why the fuck were you talking to KorTac!" Price made sure to have the young Lieutenant punch you each time you stayed silent. Your blood on the walls of the torture-...interrogation room. "I told you Price, it isn't me!" Your eyes poured the truth they never saw. 

"Fucking answer us!" Soap, more than ever hurt, slapped you. You play tough, but this hurts, the people you trusted with your life are now wanting to end it. An oath you hold close to you, now far away, or so they believed. The patch you wore with pride, is now ripped from your uniform. No longer friendly but an enemy. You knew what this meant. Ghost took his knife out, began to approach your neck with the sharp blade and before he took your life, Gaz walked in. A small-figured soldier is being pushed into the room. "Tell them what you told me!" Garrick barked. "I-it's me! I'm the one who is talking to KorTac," voice filled with fear, rightfully so. Ghost let go of the fisted uniform in his hand, and watched as your body fell forward. Soap, look of regret, held you in his arms. 

On the way to the medic centre, Ghost was by your side as you kept whispering it wasn't you. The scar he made, is forever to be kept. Days of healing, hours of apologies. Nights when you didn't hear it, but the cold lieutenant apologised with a stream of tears on his face. A blade he cared for, neared your death. 

A/N: Makarov's information has been updated for the reboot, so I'm basing myself on that

[Seven years ago]

[Saint Petersburg, Russia]

You visited the country as a civilian and bumped into a man on your way to your hotel. "Sorry, mate," you kept walking and then days later, the same man appeared in the hotel's lobby. Bumped into you and then as an apology for spilling your wine, he offers dinner. 36-year-old Vladimir was still not illustrated, not to any of his future enemies or hunters at least. You learned many things with him that evening, from his young years in the military and how his night had gotten better since meeting you. "It's wonderful, to have such a beauty like you visit such a dull country." He had you blushing and knew how to mess with your young heart. 

"You're just saying that, Vlad," a smile on your lips. It was bizarre how he went from Vladimir to Vlad, a short name that meant too much to a man like him. "Well, it's true, my dear," his smile winning you over. He didn't know your real job and you didn't know his. That night, you made a friend, someone you hold dear. That night, he made a lover, a puppet to his future. 

[Six years ago]

[middle of nowhere]

"Where are you taking me?" a blindfold on you as your boyfriend, Vlad, took you to yet another date. "You'll see my dearest," he whispers against your soft skin. Warm breeze hit your skin. The ocean, as free as you and him yearned to be. "Suprise my love," his thick accent melting your heart. The blindfold off you, you smile and hug him. This day, all truth was told, no arguments, just two lovers understanding each other's lives. "No no, my love, I would never hurt you," a promise he knows to keep. "And you wouldn't betray me, right love?" His hands cupped your delicate face as you nod. "I would never," you whisper as you feel his lips fall on yours. 

From then on, no one knew who he was to you. But to his comrades, friends and family you were the girl who held his heart. The task force all thought you were just like them, stuck to the mission and not to civilian love. Dancing with the devil, making love to him and promising your all. An engagement ring that hangs with your dog tags. Secret love to never be told. 

[Five years ago]

"Who is this?" Soap and Gaz looked at the photograph. "Vladimir Makarov, a Russian nationalist, born during the USSR," Laswell responded. "He's the target," her lips said. A knot at your throat, this can't be, you have to warn him. "Y'alright love?" Ghost's hand on your back. You nod. "Yeah, I'm just thinking," you turn to him. He nods, "Right, well, what do you think we should do?" He encouraged you, the new lieutenant of the team, no longer a cadet officer. It was something he pushed you to, to be the best. Proud smile on him when you ran up to him with the news. "I say we start with intel," you look at the photograph once more. It was your Vlad, no doubt. "Right, sergeants with me, Ghost and Grim stay behind for Laswell's next intel ask," Price nodded and left. 

Days passed and Operation Golf was established. Ghost taught you how to perfect your ghillie suit. He just liked how you tried to make yours better than his, which always turned into, 'which Lt. wore it better'.

By midnight, as Ghost went to sleep, you left base to meet with Vladimir. Price and the two other men in a different country, looking for him. "What is it, my love?" His gloved hands held your face. "They are now gathering intel on you. They believe you are still in Russia," you spoke in Russian. He chuckles, "Shame that I'm here, isn't it," his lips meet yours. Your nose is cold and now warmed by his kiss. "Don't trust no one, not even Ivan," you warn him. "I only trust my beautiful love," he kisses you again. "Now, let me hold my precious darling before she plays pretend." And that night, was the first of many rendezvous's he took for you whilst you play ally to the task force. 

[Four years ago]

You were on an operation with some old teammates from a past squad when Price got a hold of you. "Grim, it's that Captain Price guy!" A teammate calls out. You answer the call. "Prisoner 627 is now in Russia," Price proudly spoke. 627, a number unique to the case the military had opened for Makarov alone. Your wedding ring is hung with the dog tags. "Copy, out." You say over the call. That night, your bedroom was not filled with the call of your dearest lover. It's strange, to play pretend with the family you made as a soldier and to play feign with the man you call home as a wife. All in the name of love and war. 

Months pass and you play calmly. No husband, just an enemy in some Russian prison. "Y'okay bonnie?" Soap sat beside you during mess hall. "Yeah, just a bit tired from that training," you lie. The sleepless nights you have thought about your husband. You look around the table, no one knowing you knew what would come next from Konni. In the end, it wouldn't be you who got betrayed again. Not tortured, especially not by the men in your husband's team that guarded your life with theirs. 

Mission after mission, you would go to a country near Russia. Have meetings with people on your husband's side, and hear how he would escape prison. Asked you to stay away from his people when the day arrived. Play good, he would remind you. You know the date, time, how and when it would happen. The plan is all memorised in your head. You knew the people that would break him free, you knew it all and yet no one in 141 was aware. 

[Three years ago]

On yet another mission, you got news of Vladimir. He isolated himself, prepared for when he would see you again. Sent letters to you occasionally. Details of love no one would see from a man like him. A love for all movie lovers to never witness. You roamed the home he set out to be his and yours, no one, not even his best soldier knew that home existed. It was days like these that you wished to have stayed in bed and kissed his body, all details to be taken in for when you waited to once more kiss him. 

The picture of the secret wedding was held between your fingers. A smile he dreams to see as he awaits the prison break. The man who was set to believe evil held your hand and promised an entire lifetime of love. "I'm sorry," you whisper as your gaze focuses on the 141 emblem. 

"Never be sorry, never, what they did to you is cruel, you never do that to a woman who was oathed in," fury escaped his lips. It was the night he finally told you all about him. He kissed the scars that the torture room left. In that moment, all else who dared question you, especially the rats of 141 would pay for what they did to his darling. Maybe he did corrupt you, but those scars, the lies they believed and the truths they never heard from you, were way before he met you. He believed in loyalty, good or evil, opposing or not. And the way you told him how you held the oath of being a soldier dear to you, he admired it. He believes that loyalty is essential, and if you are loyal to who you are, he applauds it. 

[Two years ago]

A mission gone wrong, a phone call from within the prison. All he sacrificed to just hear you say, "I'm fine, honey." With that oh-so-soft voice of yours. A sigh of relief came from his lips. This was a reminder he would always be around even from within a guarder tower of hell. His men would always guard you, even if they fought 141, you were never the target. KorTac had a target on their backs when Vladimir found out they were the ones responsible for the bullet on your shoulder. "What is it?" He asked the guard. "The girl has been injured, gunfight at some mission." He had people that worked for him within the guards, and when the news arrived to him, that's when for the first time in his life, he feared life and a gun. Vladimir Makarov is a villain in everyone's eyes. In your eyes that hold paradise, he is peace. He is Vlad, your husband. 

Whilst waiting for Soap to get cleared from the medics, you played with the ring on your necklace. "Oh, R/N, has some lover?" Gaz was the first to notice. Ghost's stare went to you, eyes wide as he heard the words he never needed to hear. Your blush told the words his heart never wanted to hear. 

[One year ago]

[Las Almas, Mexico]

"Are you threatening us?" Ghost asked and in that moment, he made you back away. Guarding you with his body. Betrayal, the first of many he would see with you. That became the night you escaped the shadows of Commander Graves. Soap was somewhere in the city, Ghost and you escaped every chance the shadows had at catching you. Imprisonment is something you got Colonel Vargas out of. Ironic. By the end, you killed him, the man who used his shadows, in some explosion. "You alright, love?" Ghost asked as you went to the aircraft quietly. "Yeah, Mexico just tired me," your head hung as you played with the dog tags. "Who's the lover?" He finally acknowledged the ring. "No one, it's just a silly joke," you lie, something he knew well. "Hmm, yeah...a silly joke," he turned away from you. 

[Present day, 21 November 2023 ] 

[London, England]

The last time you saw them all as a team, well, now that you were sure you'd be a newfound enemy. With Makarov now out of prison, prisoner 627, your love called for him. As Ghost looked through the CCTV cameras, one of the men in Konni gave you the signal. And as you approached, you caught a glimpse of him. Your heart flutters and then you look at Ghost. He nodded and you pretended to try and fight against Makarov. Czar-9-0 Actual. The callsign of your husband and the name of the man you betrayed them for. Guns blazing, bullets directed at them, not you. Gaz and Ghost, a team, Soap and Price, a team, 141, one unit. You, the wife of the enemy. Two bullets and then, the head hit the ground. Young soldier down. "What are you doing?!" Soap asked as you turned on them. A 20-year-old soldier died within seconds, you knew him from when he joined at 18. James, the man whose blood ran on your gun. 

Makarov fired, one of his men held your hand and brought you to your husband. The 141 patch off your uniform as now, you were given the Konni patch. "Welcome back, comrade," a man spoke with an evil grin. Ghost, the eyes that saw the betrayal again. 23 soldiers died, from both sides. 141 on the ground, trying to recover. 

--

"C'mon, Grim, you have to trust me on this, yeah?" the young lieutenant that made Ghost told you. "What if we fall?" you asked. "If you trust me, we won't and if I trust you, we will go home and get a pint or two," He smiles at you. From this day on, you and he became close, a bond no gun could break. 

--

Ghost swore you were taken hostage. And as Makarov was about to kill Captain Price, one of his men tapped him out. "No time, we will get him later!" Ghost's glare never left yours. He shook his head. This can't be, not his R/N. You looked at him, no remorse behind your eyes. It wasn't R/N, it was Grim that stared at him. The soldier he respected the most. You pointed your gun at one of the other soldiers with them. 

It turned into something bigger

Somewhere in the haze, got a sense I'd been betrayed

He jumped at you, to not kill you but to bring you back and let Makarov run with Grim. You pushed him, what turned into a fight for his teammate to be back, became a fight against the enemy. You pushed him to the ground. "Ghost!" Gaz yelled as he saw your gun pointed at him. It was never Makarov that would be his demise. It wasn't an enemy. It was you. It was the one he held dear to his civilian self. The woman he would drink poison for. The one he jumped a bullet for when they were young cadets. Stupid, stupid, stupid. His eyes never left yours and for a second, he saw past Grim and noticed the scared R/N that obeyed her husband. 

Soldier down on that icy ground

Looked up at me with honor and truth

Broken and blue, so I called off the troops

That was the night I nearly lost you

You put your gun down and turn away, running to Vladimir. His open arms, ready to embrace his darling. Now, all of 141's secrets are with Makarov. It clicked in that instant. How four years ago Makarov knew who Ghost was. How well he knew all their names. It wasn't some file he saw when his hacker got in, no, it was you, the best of all pawns. The train cleaned your tracks. Price and the others stood in fear, all this time, you were part of Konni. Ghost stood in silence. 

In every war he was in, you were there. His favourite of all soldiers. From his early days as just Simon to his latest days as Ghost, all witnessed by you. He was the one who asked for you anywhere he went. His life came in a flash, all the Christmas events, the dinners and drinks he had with his friend...no...enemy. The one person who knew Simon liked the palm of her hand, now holding the man Ghost called an enemy. 

"How did he get to her so quickly?" Gaz asked, baffled to have lost you to the man you hated when this all began. "He had her all along," Kate spoke. Nikolai shook his head. "But how? We were her family," a betrayed Ghost said. "We betrayed her first," Price recalls. "But that was years ago," Soap comments. "It started years ago," Gaz mentions. "We weren't meant to win this one gentlemen," Kate informs.

"Fuck!" Ghost's blood boiled. He scared them, he knew that well. So when he slammed his fist on the table, he even made the best of soldiers flinch. "Lt," Soap tried to calm him down. "No, Johnny! You don't get it, you don't know her as I do," he approached the sergeant. "She didn't kill you, why?" Kate walks to the betrayed soldier. "What?" His voice is hoarse. "She had the chance to kill you, headshot even, yet she didn't, she ran to him and then when she did, all fire ceased." Kate is after all a mastermind. "She didn't betray Simon, she betrayed Ghost, she betrayed Soap, not Johnny, Gaz, not Kyle and Bravo six, not John." She states. 

"She betrayed soldiers, not family," Price came to realisation. Grim did that, Grim killed all that came between the goal. 'Capable of killing all those that come between her and the goal, will not hesitate to harm enemies.' The goal wasn't to kill Task Force 141, it was to get revenge for the betrayal, for torturing you in a room, letting your blood drip. You married a man, something all fools do. But even though Makarov wanted you to pull the trigger on Ghost, you didn't. You ran away and the fire ceased. 

There's no morning glory, it was war, it wasn't fair

A/N: see what I did there?...mastermind me y'know

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@tf141glory @liyanahelena @quaritchscupquake @dilfgestivo @thefragmented @scarletdfox @arialikestea @unicorngirly1 @alhaizen @willowaftxn83-87 @koniglovesme @bbyfimmie @mothcelestial @kit-kats06 @palomesa @dheet @dontfearthereaperazura

[boozenboze]

141 and male reader who is angry and when he’s angry, he goes in the gym area they have and just punches the punching bad with bare fists for hours on end and basically breaks the punching bags but keeps putting new ones up. his fists are bloody and bruised and everyone is looking for him and they can’t find him so they search everywhere and find him with blood running down his hands from the countless hours of punching and they have to practically drag him out of the gym and they make him lay down which he wont go down without a fight but YA

SORRY ITS LONG💗😭

Calm Down!

Summary: After a certain soldiers constant slip ups and slacking off Lieutenant Rage gets angry.

Females She/Her and She/ They DNI

Today hadn't gone so well, in fact it went terribly. For starters two of the new recruits lost the files that the team had been sent to retrieve. Secondly, one of the same men had flunked out during training, only to later be seen running about with some of the other soldiers. And the cup of tea to pull everything together he did something he shouldn't have. That thing being talking about one of the higher ups, Lieutenant Rage, also known as M/n. The h/c haired male had his eyes on the recruit since the beginning, knowing that he'd be trouble from the start. The childish acts, the constant slacking off, and always holding everybody back by getting injured. It was clear as day that the man shouldn't be in the military for those exact reasons. The mans carelessness for himself and others would get them all killed.

"Captain do you not understand what i'm saying?" The h/c haired male asked as Price hummed, showing that he was paying attention to the males words as he filled out some papers.

"Rage look, I understand your concern but I haven't seen anything wrong with the seargent." Price explained as M/n glared into his skull.

"Besides maybe your overreacting-"

"I AM NOT OVERREACTING!" The male finally snapped as that cold glint in his eyes that would normally only be seen on the field was now visible. Price flinched at the males change of tone, it was hot yet scary.

"That bastard could get us all killed at some point and your sitting on yer ass like that's ok. THAT IS NOT OKAY!" The male yelled as Price shook slightly from the males booming voice. He was the males Captain, he shouldn't be getting yelled at like this. With one final huff of anger the male stormed out as Price sat in his chair stunned.

The h/c haired male stormed down the hallway, knocking a solider down in the process.

"Hey! Whats your problem....." The soldiers voice dragged as he realized it was his Lieutenant. "I-i'm sorry sir!" The soldier squeaked as he ran down the hallway. M/n was already breathing heavily out of anger, and that anger seemed to double after that small accident. He had to let off some steam at this point. If he was pushed any further he'd end up killing someone. The man was speeding over to the training area that he knew would be empty considering that it was around the time the soldiers would go to their barracks. The h/c haired male couldn't do that, his adrenaline was high and that would only keep him awake longer. He just hoped that he could blow off some steam before going to bed.

Timskip (Gaz pov)

I just came from Prices office and he seemed to be deep in thought. I asked if everything was oky but he said no. He told me about the conversation he had with M/n and from how he explained it, it seemed like he was pissed off. M/n was always the most aggressive out of us all, hell he'd probably yank a mans head off if he could.

We were all walking around the base looking for our beligerant soldier known as M/n. The man could do the unthinkable when he's angry so we hope he isn't doing anything crazy.

"We've checked everywhere for the man it's clear he isn't here!" Soap complained, getting tired of feeling like he had been walking circles. I looked at the man before turning my attention to Ghost. Seemed like he didn't wanna be here either, but he had no choice. We passed the training area and heard a loud slam which caught our attention. Price gave us a look before opening the door. I was surprised to see M/n standing over a punching bag, i'm guessing he broke it considering that the chain that the bag was connected to wasn't there anymore. The man was out of breath as he picked up the punching bag and throwing it to the side.

Ghost had walked over and put his arms under the shorter males arms. The man immediately threw a fit, he was kicking and yelling incoherantly and the men were only able to hear snippets of his words.

"Get the fuck off me-BITCH!" The male yelled as he whipped his head back hitting Ghosts mask. Ghost grunted from the sudden pressure being put on his face as he crouch down to the floor with the male still in his hold. The taller man had the h/c haired male pinned to the ground as the position they were in restricted his movements.

3rd pov

"M/n calm down, we can stay like this for as long as we have to, to make your relax." Price said as M/n huffed angrily. Slowly but surely the mans breathing steadied, despite that he still wasn't calm. Gaz had held the mans hand and furrowed his brows at the sight of the males bleeding knuckles. Ghost had already noticed the mans hands, so he picked him up and walked to the infirmary.

Timeskip

Ghost was seated on the couch next to Ghost, who was currently sipping on some tea as the h/c haired male groaned in annoyance. The slurping sounds aggravated him but he couldn’t since Ghost had him wrapped up in a blanket. He looked like a burrito, a angry one at that. The lieutenant looked at him for a moment before offering the male a biscuit, to which he took. He may be angry, but when snacks are offered there can’t be much of an argument. The male muttered a “thank you” while chewing the savory treat. In that moment Soap and the others came into the room in their pajamas. The Scot almost laughed when he saw the position the private had been put in.

“Well ain’t this nice to see.” Soap said while ruffling the males hair to which the male attempted to bite his hand. Soap laughed and poked the males side before sitting down.

“L/n...look, I thought about what you had said and your right.” Price said as M/n looked him dead in the eye.

“We’ll be terminating him tomorrow, he won’t be bothering anyone else.” Price explains as M/n visibly relaxed. Seems like the removal of that one recruit made a big difference in the males mood which made them all happy.

“Alright...Lets watch a movie since we’re still up!” Gaz said happily while the other men hummed in agreement as M/n squirmed under the blanket.

“If one of you dont get me out this hot ass blanket we’re having problems.” M/n said as Soap hurriedly tool the blanket from around the male. The sound of the movie could be heard as all the men sat back and relaxed. M/n had his head on Ghosts shoulder while Soap had his head on M/n’s. Seems like they would be having a peaceful night.

[jazziejax]

Queen Treatment for

The King

Pairings- Art Donaldson x black!OC, Tashi Duncan x black!OC, Patrick Zweig x black!OC

Summary- moments between Dion King and her best friends that adore her

Warnings- slight smut, implied sexual content, sexual tension...

Jazzie Notes!- It’s me writing at 1am again knowing I have somewhere to be tomorrow:)….. sorry for any typos or mistakes, I don't enjoy reading back my own work and I type like a mad man with dyslexia. Also, sorry if this is bad, I’ve beer written smut or sexual content of any kind. Might but ever do it again honestly.

Word Count- 2,724

Part I , Part III

Dion heard the soft click of her door closing from her bed. She sat on her bed in her dorm, reading away at some old and torn biology book that was needed for a class. She was barely paying attention to the words on the thin paper, chipped corners obscuring some words as she sipped away at the honey tea Art brought her before he left.

She never raised her eyes away from the page before her as a weight was placed near her feet at the end of her bed. She knew who it was by the sound of his feet. There was silence within the room as she continued to sip from her mug and fake-read the large book in her lap, feeling his stare. It wasn’t long before she made it to the bottom of her mug, the sound echoing as she slurped up the thick honey that settled at the bottom. When finished, she sat the empty cup on the nightstand beside her and then finally looked up at the boy in front of her who had his eyes on her the entire time.

“Are you just going to fucking sit there or are you gonna say something?” She asked, not sugarcoating anything. Patrick’s face looked the same way it did yesterday, sadness etched in every crevice that only deepened with her words.

“I just wanted to explain myself.” He said somberly. Dion sighed, slamming the book on her lap closed. She then filed her arms and sat up more against the headboard, crossing her legs. “Go on then.” She said disinterestedly.

And she honestly was. Art had filled her in about the situation that caused the oddness between them all last night after her fashion show ended in him giving her the best head. He was so fucked out afterward that he just started spilling everything without Dion even having to ask. Not that she had to, Art thought she needed to know.

So, she sat there waiting. Either to hear the same information or something new.

“The whole reason Tashi and I have been acting so strange is because we argued.” He said, eyes never moving from her trying to gauge a reaction. “About you.”

“I mean, I figured that much Pat.” Dion rolled her eyes.

“But it wasn’t what you would think it would be about.” He started, angling his body in the girl's bed to face her. He left his shoes in Tashi’s room so she was just in a shirt, shorts, and gray socks. “She was angry because she felt like we were getting too close.” Dion’s brows furrowed deeply, eyes briefly igniting with rage. Seeing this, Patrick was quick to interject. “But not like that. Not like we were falling for one another or that you had a thing for me.” Then Dion went from angry to confused. “She was angry at me because she felt like I was taking you from her.” He stated, seeing the question circulating in her eyes. At that, Dion kind of just stared at him, lost in thought over the whole situation.

Dion’s never had a serious boyfriend since she and Tashi have been friends. She barely even talks to guys anymore, let alone think about that much. She had all she could ask for within Tashi. So much so, that she was a little heartbroken when the girl said she wasn’t looking for anything too serious with her. But she kept on a brave face as stuck it out. And it’s not like Tashi was doing anything with anyone else, so that kept her at ease about the whole situation.

So when they met Art and Patrick, they never would have thought things would end up the way they did. Tashi and Patrick were together but she allowed him and Dion to do things if they wanted, which was rare if she wasn’t involved. She honestly only agreed because she knew she wouldn’t be dropping Dion any time soon. The girl was like a drug to her.

Art and Dion were pretty official, at least to the people around campus, so they did things all the time. They were the same. They had the same favorite color, the same habits, same taste in music and books. They even served sort of similar. Being around him brought a light into her heart that she didn’t know she needed. And Art depended on her presence more than he’d like to admit. Sometimes just spends time in her dorm to live like a married couple. Being around Dion made him almost forget about his jealousy of Tashi and Patrick.

Almost.

But Dion and Patrick, their relationship was more than just physical. He was like a male Tashi. He was confident and sure of himself. She was lewd and loud, Dion found it endearing. He made her laugh. He taught her things no other guy has, he’s shown her this whole other world of being a person and living. He had so much to offer and this was only the beginning.

Maybe that was it.

Tashi felt as if Dion was slipping away from her. If only she knew how unlikely something like that would be.

“This whole situation is so fucking stupid.” Dion huffed, putting her head in her hands. “I mean?” She exasperated, looking back up at him. Patrick just softly nodded his head, still downtrodden from the whole blow-up of events. “Yeah. And the argument only got worse when I said she was being that way because she can’t admit her feelings for you.” He sighed.

“Oh,” Dion said, crossing her arms. “Well, it’s over now. I’ll talk to Tash and things will go back to normal.” She said, with a shrug. She was trying to quickly change the subject to something else so she wouldn’t have to focus on the fact that Tashi was avoiding her feelings in some way. Patrick could tell what she was doing, he just stared at her, admiring her as she thought.

“Do you have feelings for me?” She asked, looking up at the boy. Their eyes instantly met since he was already observing her as she played with the loose thread on her bed sheet. He jerked his head back at her question, caught off guard by her sudden movements and question.

“Jeez, Dion.” The boy groaned, throwing his head back. While she thought he was doing it out of annoyance, Patrick was honestly trying to hold back the boner he was getting just watching her. The sun shone through the blue curtains giving the girl this ethereal glow. The way her lounge-wear shirt fell off her shoulders because of its size. And those shorts she always wore that showed the bottom of her ass cheek just right. She had hundreds of those shirts and they all loved when she wore them.

“What?” Dion asked, shrugging her shoulders. “You’re the one that told me I need to be more forward.”

“That’s not what I mean, King.”

“Just answer the question.” Dion pouted, watching as he tilted his head back down to look at her. Dion always loved his eyes, probably not as much as Art’s since he had heterochromia, but Patrick’s were a close second. The honey brown starts at the rim of his pupil and expands into this beautiful blue. His eyes were always dilated, at least when she looked into them, and she loved seeing that look.

“Of course, Dion.” That was all he said. His eye herb wavering from hers. Dion smiled at his words before standing on her knees and growing closer to the male. She planted herself right next to him, still on her knees with her hands holding her weight as she sat back in her legs.

“That’s good to know.” She smiled at him. Patrick smirked, seeing the mischief swimming in her eyes. His eyes traced her features, her oiled skin, her curly roots peeking from under the towel on her head, the way one of her eyebrows was a little fuller than the other. Her lips looked sticky from the honey she sucked earlier. Everything about her was a sight to see. “Now do you think you deserve your gift?” She asked, using the sickly sweet voice she always did to get her way. The same way she sounded when they first met. Patrick nodded his head, not even giving the question a second thought as she stared the girl in the eyes.

Dion pursed her lips in a tiny pout. “I should make you work for it after being so absent these past few days.” She said, giving the boy a once over. She could see the huge bulge he had in his shorts that he was trying to hide by stuffing his hands into his shirt. Her eyes trailed back up to see his muscles poking through the shirt, the girl getting wet from his figure. “Do you think you should work for it or do you want the gift?” She asked, finally looking him back in the eye. Patrick licked his lips, eyes darting everywhere on his face before answering. “I think I should work for it.” He whispered.

Dion smirked, rising to her knees again. She never took her eyes off of him and Patrick followed hers. She looked down at him as she took the towel off her hair. Some of the parts were a little wet but that didn’t bother either of them, especially at this moment.

Dion then straddled Patrick’s lap, her knees on either side of his. He immediately untucked his hands from his shirt and latched onto her waist. He leaned in, thinking her lips were gonna meet his but she backed away at the last moment. His lips met her jawline with a wet kiss. Dion looked back and leaned in again but pulled the same move, dodging his lips to his net her cheek this time. Patrick whined at the lack of contact after a few more tries while Dion smirked. She did it one last time.

Only this time, Patrick didn’t stop. He trailed wet kisses anywhere he could as his hands squeezed at her torso. Dion sighed out a few airy moans as his kiss ended up behind her ear. Hearing just those sounds made Patrick target that spot, sucking and licking at the spot until he could feel the skin become tender under his tongue.

Unknowingly, his hands traveled down her back and under her big shirt to grab her bottom. His large hands cupping her ass instantly evoked a reaction out of the girl, letting out a loud moan. At that, Patrick groaned into her neck. He backed away from her neck to see her face morph into one of pleasure as he groped her ass. At the loss of contact, Dion looked down at him. “I didn’t say stop, did I?” She asked.

Patrick immediately got back to what he was doing, licking and kissing anywhere he could on her neck, even going down to her chest at one point. Dion was a moaning mess as he continued to okay with her ass cheeks, just the feeling of him so close to her heat made her feral. And one thing about Dion, she was a talker. She also loved herself a talker.

“You’re just so good to me baby.” She sighed into Patrick’s ear as he went to town at the top of her breast, oh so close to popping them out. “You treat me so well.” She moaned. Patrick's hips jolted at her words, loving when she just talked to him. He could cum just listening to her talk. He has once when he heard her talking Art through a climax. At that, Dion moans again, his bulge hitting her covered heat.

She then pulled away and stood up on her knees. Patrick, too engrossed in the feeling of her soft breasts on his tongue, kept licking away as he washed closer and closer to popping them out of her bra. Seeing this, Dion grabbed the back of the brunette’s head and pulled him back. His face was pink, eyes blown and lips plump. Their eyes met.

“You’ll take care of me, right?” She asked, using that sweet voice on him.

Patrick nodded, his hands still on her ass and his hips lightly rutting up against the air. Dion's eyes turned stern and she grabbed the boy by the jaw, making his lips pucker. “Speak.” She demanded.

“Yes.” At that, Dion leaned forward and gave him a wet and sort of sloppy kiss on his pursed lips.

“And you won’t hide things from me anymore?” She asked, tightening her grip on his face just a tad.

“No, never.” The boy panted with a quick shake of his head. Dion gave him another kiss, this one a little longer than the last. She broke away, a thin trail of spit connecting them. “And you know that I’ll always care for you?” She asked. Patrick nodded before he could form a verbal answer. Her words were working him up and he was close to cumming in his shorts. He’s never been this way with any girl but Dion just bought something out of him. She had a way of getting people to do what she wanted.

“Mmh hmm.” Patrick finally said, trying his best to hold back his climax as his hands continued to grip her ass and she continued to moan and speak to him. Dion brought her lips back down to his, barely moving as the boy stretched his neck to meet her in a head kiss. She was practically shoving her tongue down his throat as they kissed, and Patrick loved it. He loved that his rather docile and sweet girl was corrupting him in ways he didn’t know he liked. He didn’t know he needed it. Dion broke away, feeling the boy’s rock-hard bulge on her pussy when he lifted her ass cheeks and slapped them. She let out a loud moan into her mouth, which made him snack it again. Knowing they were close, she broke the kiss. Much to Patrick’s dismay the boy groaned.

“I know you’re close, baby. I know.” The girl cooed in between kisses on his cheek. But I have to give you your gift before we continue. She then got off his lap and turned to the nightstand next to her bed. She pulled open the first drawer and brought out a dark blue velvet box. She sat back down next to him, both of them igniting the huge bulge in his shorts.

Patrick opened the box to see a golden ring in the center of it.

He didn’t say anything as he started at the price of jewelry.

Scared of his reaction, Dion started to ramble. “It’s, uh, a jasper stone or something like that, I don’t know. I just got it because it matched the one Art has and it’s kind of like the whole fire & ice thing. It’s also a pinky ring because I felt like that fit more of your vibe—” The girl's monologue was cut off by Patrick's lips in hers. The male kissed her vigorously, trying to show all his passion and affection through one kiss. He used so much force that Dion fell back into the bed, Patrick not detaching from her as she followed her down.

Breaking away for air, Dion looked up at the boy in front of her.

“So, you like it?” The girl asked out of breath.

“I love it.” Patrick’s said, sincerity laced in his tone. “But I’d love something else a whole lot more right now.” He said, giving the girl a knowing look, his pupils bigger than before. Dion laughed as she rolled her eyes.

“Okay.” Was all she needed to say for Patrick to trail fine her body and place his face between her legs. He said in his stomach and could practically smell her arousal. It was as if they were both animals in heat at this moment. Before he could dive in, even with her shirts still in, Dion spoke.

“Did you cum in your shorts?”

“Yeah, it happened in our last kiss”. Was all the answer he gave before his lips were latching onto her bottom ones poking through her shorts.

Let me know if you guys would like to be in the taglist :)

[gunnrblze]

pls drop more obsessed Logan & hesh hc's 🙏🙏

Hello my dear, sorry it took me ages to get to this, promise I’m not ignoring y’all’s asks I just have to wait till inspiration strikes lmfao

More obsessed Hesh and Logan hc’s? Say no more. I’m taking these a bit darker so pls heed the warnings, I totally understand if this isn’t someone’s cup of tea. I’m also gonna say since this is the first time I’ve ever really posted darker stuff-even though I think it goes w/o saying-that I don’t condone behavior like this, it’s all fiction. Stalking is obviously wrong and criminal…ykwim. I am not romanticizing it (they r fucked in the head, that’s the theme here, up to ur own interpretation). Just thought I should add <3

TW: obsessive behavior (duh), stalking, delusional thinking (?) not in an actual mentally ill way- Logan is just stupid, general nefarious and toxic behavior, SFW as far as no sexual content

Hesh knows that this is beyond his normal feelings for you, he can feel himself slipping more and more everyday. And he doesn’t know what to do about it.

He wasn’t raised to be the kind of man that acts like this, so immoral and degenerate. The kind that follows someone around base/town, but that’s what he found himself doing. He knew where you resided, so he quickly learned your routine. Your actual job, what you did when you weren’t at home/your barracks, where you spent the most time, and the routes you usually took. Memorized it and filed it away in his head.

Hesh would know it’s not normal, that’s it’s unjustified to slink around after you. To imagine that he’s simply looking out for you instead of fueling his own need. What did he even want out of this? Even if you ever reciprocated his interest in you as a person, you’d surely freak out if you knew he watched you from a distance whenever he could. That he knew so much about you, whether you were aware of his existence or not. He’d never tell you, he knows better. Knows better, yet he can’t help but stand in the shadows and watch the way you act when you think no one’s looking.

You’d infiltrated him. He was a normal guy, a good one, and now his mind was filled with you and only you. You’d even pop into his head on missions, whether you were there or not. He was focused, a good soldier who didn’t let anything get in his way. But when he had a minute to breathe, to stop and think, you still flooded his head.

He constantly wondered what you were doing, when he wasn’t yards away watching you do it, that is. The man found you so perfect, so completely untainted, he felt like he was the holder of a precious jewel. Except he didn’t hold you at all, you weren’t his, and he wasn’t stupid enough to believe you were. He just wished it so.

He couldn’t talk to anyone about it, and if you were ever brought up by anyone else, he’d go silent. Logan could tell, though. He could tell his brother had some kind of feelings for you, but he wasn’t aware of the true extent of Hesh’s behavior, no.

Hesh was too stealthy. Too good of a liar. So if he had to lie, even to himself and those he trusts the most, he would. It was all worth it, so long as he could live another day to see your precious face.

Logan, on the other hand, isn’t as reasonable about the apple of his eye. He was too lost in the obsession with you that to him, it was justifiable. Unlike Hesh, he’d be unaware that he really had a problem.

You were a necessity, in Logan’s head. Whether you worked on base, alongside the team, or if you’re just another civilian, he needed to see you. He figured the way he watched you, followed after you, wasn’t necessarily harmful. Whether you really needed it or not, he was just helping to protect you, in his mind.

He’d get closer than Hesh would though. He’d let you see him from time to time, just enough to make you aware of his existence. Whether you remember him or not, take stock of him or not, doesn’t matter. To him, he’s just silently presenting himself to you. For the taking.

He’d daydream about you when he had the time, when he wasn’t working or watching you from afar. If you know of him, he often wonders if you think of him as much as he does you. If he was stuck in your head like a leech, too. It was wishful thinking of course, but Logan didn’t seem to realize just how deep his feelings went.

To him, he wasn’t doing anything wrong by following you around. He didn’t wonder what anyone would think if they knew, Hesh, Elias, the team. Because in his mind, this wasn’t a real problem. He’d never hurt you, no, he’s definitely not that kind of guy. He was interested, and it wasn’t wrong so long as he didn’t infringe on you in any way, right?

Not that he’d ever tell anybody, of course. He knew they would have a problem with it, that they’d think him immoral for this. So he dodged Hesh’s questions, and stayed as silent as he always did. He was stealthy too, of course. You’d never see any more of him than he presented to you. Just enough, enough to plant the seed in your head, perhaps? That he’s merely there, if you ever care.

Like Hesh though, he also wouldn’t make a move. Not because he knew his behavior was wrong, but because he’d simply let you come to him if you ever wanted to, if you even knew he existed. It killed him to not have more of you, but at the same time, he was aware he may not be able to handle more. What would he do with pure perfection in his presence, his hands? You’d consume him mind, body, and soul. He settled for what he could get.

He could live with you never requiting his desires, with however much you did or didn’t notice him.

But he couldn’t live without you

[cielles-random-vault]

new year's hangover☆

lil drabble where you befriend ghost at the tf141 new year's party... what can possibly go wrong?

content: drunkness, socially anxious-ish reader, ghost being ghost, passing out and hickeys.

author's note: UHHH HAI IM BACK?!?!? icl im kinda hating myself because im posting a drabble instead of a full work.... am sorry.. mi bad mi bad... also im waiting for friday for new invincible content because the brainrot is REALLL

also pls pretend i posted this on new year's eve... HAPPY NEW YEAR TO YALL BTWWWWW

shotout to @unabashedcroissanttreefan bc i want to make her bitter /hj, and to @michelleart8 ! <3

anyway enjoy and pls reblog

wc: 1836

"will you be coming at the new year's party tonight?" price asked as he noticed you filling some paperwork in the common room.

"i dont think so" you sigh, "im not that much of a social person, and i still have a lot of paperwork to fill in,let alone medical files."

"are you sure?" price asked, worried you might overwork yourself, but then an idea suddenly came to his mind. "i heard the lieutenant will be there as well, rumors have it you have a crush on him, so it'd be a good opportunity to actually talk to him, instead of just- avoiding him like you do."

the thought of captain price having noticed you had a crush on ghost sent a bright blush to your cheeks, but you waved those thoughts away.

"even if he was here, that doesn't mean i stand a chance with him" you reply, losing focus on your paperwork, now that the lieutenant was mentioned. "we barely talk anyway, and he seems to hate me so..."

"he seems to hate everyone" price chuckled, "dont take it personally. did the fact that he will be there change your mind?"

"i dont know" you sigh, but your little smile was betraying you. "it will depend on whether i have finished filling those files. at what time will it start?"

"around 7!" price replied with a subtle smile, feeling like he convinced you to come. "oh,and, you can come in a casual outfit, no need to pull up the formal uniform", he winked and left.

the few hours that separated you from the awaited party came, and all of a sudden a sudden peak of anxiety invaded you.

what if everyone made fun of your awful social skills? what if you didnt dress well enough?

your overthinking stopped as you felt your phone vibrate in your pocket; surprisingly enough, it was a text from price.

are you coming? ghost is here 👀

you chuckled as you put on a comfy sweater, and headed to the common room.

"you came!!" price greeted you, smiling brightly at you. "make yourself at ease, go get yourself something to drink, and who knows? maybe alcohol can help you make a move on our lovely lieutenant" he chuckled, before handing you a cup of alcohol.

"do you... want to get me drunk so i could get rid of my social anxiety?" you asked price, raising an eyebrow.

"maybe" he chuckled, already sounding drunk, "is it working?"

"not reall- ouch"

you blushed brightly as you noticed ghost was the one who stumbled into you.

"oi," he said, sounding slightly drunk as well, "im sorry. must've lost my balance, probably drank too much already. you're y/n, right?"

"y-yes," you nod, still not over the interaction, praying he didn't notice the bright blush on your cheeks, "why?"

"because..." he tries to articulate, and nearly fell on the floor, "ive been meaning to tell you... you're doing a great ass good job... dont let my mean words convince you otherwise, k?"

"oh-" you said, taken aback by this sudden demonstration of kindness, your heart melting. "thank you lieutenant..?"

the evening went on, until the cheerful "happy new year!!!" resonated in the walls of the tf141's buildings, everyone happy to finally greet the new year.

the party then came to an end, and so you decided to stay a little longer to help clean the room. once you got done, and got ready to head back to your quarters, you noticed an odd figure.

was ghost... asleep? he sure seemed to. he probably passed out due to all the alcohol he had drank, and you couldn't blame him.

that's how he somehow ended in your quarters - and if you were to be honest, carrying a man as massive as him was NOT an easy thing, but you somehow managed to. you tried your best to put him in a comfortable position on your couch, but bringing him here was already kind enough, wasn't it? so you just left him laying down on the floor, covering his massive frame with a blanket, and put a pillow under his head.

"this sure was a strange new year's day" you thought out loud, "happy new year lieutenant"

just in case something happened to ghost, you decided pull an all nighter (?), and you were right to, well at least, soft of.

in the middle of the night, ghost woke up, seemingly not over his hangover.

"i'll tell you what, y/n, ive always been in love with you." he mumbled, barely able to stand.

your heart dropped at this confession, but you had to stay lucid: he couldn't possibly mean it, it had to be the alcohol, right? that would make no sense if he was in love with you.

but you couldn't help to secretely wish what he was saying was true, after all you know the saying: drunk words are sober thoughts, and now you really hoped the saying was true there.

"lieutenant,you're drunk, you should go back to sle-"

he interrupted you by kissing you, first on the lips, and then moved on to your neck, leaving a little trail of hickeys here and there.

you gave in the kiss, you knew it was wrong, but it felt so good, but quickly waved those thoughts off: it was wrong in any way. he was your superior, and drunk, you couldn't abuse his drunken state like that.

but the feel of his lips on yours sure felt like heaven...

as if nothing happened, he smirked softly as he pulled out of the kiss, and resumed his peaceful slumber on your floor.

however, the next morning was nothing like that.

"looks like someone had fun last night" ghost grumbled as he noticed your many hickeys. "what the fuck am i doing here? and where even is here, and did you poison me? why is my head pounding?" he asked, back to his usual stern self, and you would actually be surprised if he didnt.

"youre in my quarters" you reply as you handed him a cup of anti hangover tea. "i brought you here because we were the only two remaining at the party, and you passed out. and hum... about the hickeys, how much do you remember from last night?" you ask as you look away, embarassed at the thought of last night's passionate kiss.

"i dont remember shit, why?" he asked, sounding more annoyed than mean.

"okay i..." (you sigh) "promise not to get mad at me if i tell you?" (he shakes his head, annoyed) "okay, so... you confessed yesterday." you blurt out, "but that is not all." (you gulp.) "we also kissed and... you gave me those hickeys."

"oh." he said blankly, and you could feel the blush in his voice, despite his mask.

"yeah.." you chuckled awkwardly, not daring to look at him, "but i have one question though. were you honest when you said you... 'always have been in love with me?"

your heartbeat quickened as you waited for his answer, but you had to know.

"would it be weird if i said yes..?" he asked, unable to look at your eyes, and your heart nearly missed a beat. "i mean, youre always doing what youre told to despite the fact that i treat you like shit and... i don't know, i guess that made me develop a kind of soft spot for you... do you happen to feel the same way..?" he asked, and you could feel the vulnerability in his voice.

"i- i think i do..?" you replied, both confused and relieved. "i mean, i always thought you hated me but.. this feels a bit rushed. can we do it again?"

"okay" he nodded, "how does 'hello, my name is simon riley, known as ghost, lieutenant from the task force 141, and i am in love with the wonderful y/n' sounds?" ghost chuckled with a soft smile, loving at you with loving eyes.

"much better" you reply with a soft smile, butterflies fluttering in your stomach, way better.

later on that day, when you and ghost headed to the briefing room hand in hand, price couldn't help but let out a small laugh.

"see? seems like alcohol can do wonders" he whispered, and it made you let out a small chuckle as well.

[ihateapbiology]

good news

(Help this feels like the 1D fanfics 😭😭😭😭 but just roll with it lol.)

also kinda tw- kinda like some thoughts on religion/homophobia

You joked with your friends that your ex girlfriend had broken up with you two weeks before you were seeing Julien Baker to give you the “authentic experience.” You wouldn’t call yourself a super fan, you had found her through boygenius and just really connected with her music. Unfortunately you had been connecting a little too much with her music since your ex girlfriend had “realized she wasn’t queer” and that “God was calling her away from you.” You didn’t even feel mad just so sad. So you were ready to cry. You and your closest friends scanned in your tickets and meandered your ways to your seats. You were super close. You had wanted to look nice in case one of your friends wanted to post abt the concert and if your ex saw it…you wanted to look like you didn’t want to rot in bed. The concert was everything and more than you could’ve hoped for. Each chord resonated deeply within you, the lyrics hitting close to home. Her voice was raw, filled with an emotion that seemed to echo your own pain. Tears welled up in your eyes as you let the music wash over you. As you were crying you felt more emotions than you had let yourself feel in a while, your ex breaking up with you had unearthed some of your own religious wounds. Then you felt eyes on you, not one of your friends, you were mortified when you realized Julien was looking down at you. You briefly made eye contact before you looked away fast. The concert drew to a close and you and your friends started filing out. You quickly let them know you were heading to the bathroom.

The tears you had held back during the performance now flowed freely, a silent release of all the hurt you had been carrying, not worrying about how your friends would think.

“Hey,” a gentle voice broke through your sobs. You looked up, surprised to see Julien standing there, concern etched on her face. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah I just stubbed my toe really hard” you lie still sobbing.

She smiled a bit and walked next to you and sat. “Yeah did you stub your toe in the middle of my concert as well?” She says, making it known that she remembered the rather awkward eye contact you two had made.

“Alright you caught me.” You softly say. “People have said I’m good to talk to. If you want to.” She says.

You hesitated for a moment before nodding. She sat down beside you, her presence comforting. You found yourself opening up to her, sharing the pain of your recent breakup and how lost you felt. She listened intently, not interrupting, just offering a supportive presence.

When you finished, Julien placed a hand on your shoulder. “I’m so sorry you’re going through this. That..wow that situation literally sounds like what I’d write a song about. I want you to know that no matter what. No matter what a warped preaching of a religion built upon love says you are valid. What your ex did has nothing to do on you, nothing at all, no matter who she was with when she felt this she would’ve broken up with them. Just..allow yourself to feel you know.”

This unleashes more tears “thank you it was just so out of left field you know.”

You guys talk for a bit longer before she has to go finishing cleaning up stuff. “Hey do you live around here?” She asks.

“Yeah.”

“Well if you ever need someone to talk to about this I’m here..” she grabs a sharpie from her pants pocket and writes her number on your hand. “thank you that’s really sweet…you’re really sweet.” You shyly say.

She shrugs “I like helping gorgeous girls” by the look on her face she clearly didn’t mean to say all that much.

However you didn’t register that she had called you gorgeous until 3 hours later as you were watching TV and screamed to your friends.

Now the question remained…would you text that number…

[sycamorelibrary754]

Guardian Angel

Chapter 3: You're Still Worthy

Summary: Emotional conversations and difficult choices were on the table for everyone the moment Wanda stepped back into the Avengers compound for the first time after Westview. But just because Wanda is starting over doesn’t mean she has to do it alone. 

Warnings: Trauma, angst, cursing.

Word Count: 3.1k

A/N: This chapter has two distinct parts. The flashback of Wanda’s first moments back in the compound (italicized) and the present day, approximately one year after Westview.

Guardian Angel Masterlist

Trust takes years to build, seconds to break, and forever to repair. Stepping foot back in the Avengers compound for the first time after Westview was freed was the latest in a series of painful and tragic chapters in Wanda Maximoff’s story.

Fury was seated in his spacious office with a glass of Pappy Van Winkle Bourbon. He had a stern expression as he intently watched Wanda's movements on the numerous security monitors placed strategically around the compound. Fury closely monitored every twist and turn she made, remaining vigilant and alert throughout.

A soft knock on his door broke his concentration as he sat there, lost in thought. He straightened up in his chair, alert and ready to face whatever was coming. The door creaked open slowly, and a faint light spilled into the dimly lit room, revealing the outline of a figure standing in the doorway.

“Director, Ms. Maximoff is here,” Maria announced. 

“Maximoff, have a seat. Or do you prefer Scarlet Witch now?” Placing the glass down on his desk.

Maria glanced from Fury to Wanda before taking her place next to the Director's desk. Wanda sat down, trying her best to hide her nerves. The two of them sat in silence for a moment until Fury finally spoke up.

“You know, it’s crap like this that gives me trust issues,” leaning back in his chair, reading the file on Westview. 

“Really? I thought your sparkling personality gave you trust issues,” the redhead whispered under her breath.

“Come on, don’t give me that shit. What the hell were you thinking? Throwing the file onto his desk. “3,892 people. Three thousand eight hundred ninety-two people manipulated, tortured, and held hostage so you could live out some television family fantasy!” he shouted. “Do you know what I went through to keep Westview classified? What I went through with SWORD to make sure you walked out of there alive and not thrown in the Raft?” His anger was growing. 

"It wasn't a fantasy!" she exclaimed, as her emotions finally surfaced.

“It was selfish!” Fury shouted. 

Maria flinched at the sound of Fury's voice before the room fell silent again.

"Director, have you ever lost someone?" Wanda asked, her gaze fixed on his desk.

“I was a Colonel in the United States Army and a CIA Operative. I’ve lost more people than I can count, including my parents. You’re most certainly not the first person to experience grief.”

Wanda looked determined as she raised her head to speak. "I cannot help but feel sorry for the ordeal those people went through," she said with a heavy accent, her voice filled with emotion. Their suffering will continue to trouble me for the rest of my life."

Tears glistened in her eyes as she continued, "When I finally realized the agony I was inflicting, I knew I had to put an end to it. It was a difficult decision, but I have no regrets about my life with my husband and children. We had our struggles, but we also had many happy moments together."

As she spoke, it was clear that Wanda had gone through a lot in her life. Despite the pain and hardship, however, she remained resolute in her determination to do what was right and to find peace in her memories.

Fury exhaled heavily and asked, 'Where are your boys?'

The redhead immediately tensed up, her heart pounding against her rib cage. 

“I need you to be completely honest with me, starting right now,” Fury said. “If you want to remain a member of this team and continue to be a productive member of society, it's important that I know everything. Please understand that no one will hurt them.”

In a moment of urgency, Wanda found herself making a quick decision. Despite her reservations, she hesitantly slipped into Fury's mind as his thoughts were too loud to ignore. She knew that this was the only way she could be certain of his intentions and confirm that he was telling the truth. When she emerged, she was certain that Fury was to be trusted. She responded with confidence, "Billy and Tommy are with Darcy Lewis."

 Fury nodded. “Where is the Darkhold?”

“I destroyed it.” 

“That’s not what the wizard thinks. Strange is sure you wouldn’t have survived the destruction of that type of dark magic.”

Wanda leaned forward in her chair and cleared her throat. "Given everything that's happened, Director, it would be unwise to bet against my abilities."

Fury finished his drink; the ice clinked at the bottom of his glass. "You are dismissed for now, but do not leave the premises," he said.

After leaving his office, Wanda rose to her feet without saying another word. Maria locked eyes with Fury before hurrying after the redhead out the door.

When they were out of earshot of the Director, Maria called after her, "Wanda, wait!"

Wanda stopped moving and stood still with her back turned towards Maria.

“I’m… I’m sorry,” Agent Hill empathized. 

"Sorry doesn't undo what I did or what I've lost," she countered. "Every season of my life has led to a goodbye. My parents, Pietro, Vision. No matter what I've done to try and be better, to help others, to heal. It never ends," her voice cracked. "I don't know how the boys survived, but my heart can't take anymore.”

Maria gently placed her warm hand on Wanda's shoulder, feeling the tension and pain in her friend's body. In response, Wanda turned around and fell into Maria's embrace, her composure crumbling as she sobbed. Maria held her tightly, offering a safe and comforting space for her friend to release her emotions. As Wanda continued to weep, Maria could feel her tears dampening her shirt, but she didn't mind. All that mattered was being there for her friend.

*^~^*

Wanda wandered aimlessly around the compound for the rest of the day. The cold and judgmental gazes of numerous SHIELD agents going about their daily routines bore into her like a hot iron, making her feel like she had committed a grave mistake. The compound was the same as she had left, but everything felt different. The once-familiar surroundings now seemed foreign and unwelcoming.

Wanda was not ready to return to her room. The memories of her past life seemed distant and unfamiliar to her now. She was unsure of what to say if she encountered any of her former colleagues. The fear of their judgment and condemnation made her hesitant and unwilling to face them. Lost in her thoughts, Wanda wandered around the compound, hoping to find solace or peace. But the echoes of her past mistakes and the fear of the future kept haunting her, making her feel helpless and alone.

The sight of the gym brought back a flood of good and bad memories of the time spent within its walls. She hesitated before peeking through the sliding doors, ensuring no one was around before stepping inside. The gym had become a sanctuary for her, a place where she could channel her inner strength and work on honing her abilities. Countless hours were spent in this space, sweating, training, and pushing herself to the limits to discipline her body and mind. However, all that hard work, all that dedication, was shattered. The unspeakable grief and loss that followed had left her broken, both physically and emotionally. Yet here she was, standing once again in the same space, her heart heavy with memories and emotions that she had thought she had left behind.

“No matter how often I tried to train you to fight without using your powers, you always resisted.” 

The distinct and familiar sound of a deep, slightly raspy voice reverberated through the spacious gym. She turned her head and was captivated by the sight of Natasha Romanoff, who stood poised and confident on the other side of the room. Natasha's hair was elegantly styled in double braids, and her black workout attire clung to her fit and toned physique in all the right places, accentuating her curves and strength.

Wanda sighed, "Why fight with one hand tied behind my back?" She moved a strand of hair behind her ear.

"Because it makes you stronger," Nat replied, strolling towards her.

“I don’t feel very strong right now,” Wanda admitted.

“I beg to differ,” the widow argued. “Otherwise you wouldn’t be here.”

Nat quietly observed Wanda's demeanor, noticing the subtle nuances of her body language. The woman standing in front of her seemed to be a mere shadow of her former self, weighed down by the immense burden of grief. It was evident that Wanda was still struggling to come to terms with all that had been lost in Sokovia, Wakanda, and most recently, in Westview. The pain and sorrow etched on her face spoke volumes of the emotional turmoil she was going through, and it was clear that she needed someone to talk to, someone who could understand her pain and help her find a way forward.

Natasha took another tack. “Get in the ring.” 

“What?” she asked.

Natasha put down her water bottle and stepped between the ropes. "Get in the ring," Nat repeated.

“I’m in no condition to spar,” Wanda argued.

“Says the Scarlet Witch,” Nat smirked. “Now, come on.”

Wand released a long, tired sigh and slowly removed her jacket. With a hint of nervousness in her movements, she cautiously stepped closer to the ring, her eyes fixed on the ground beneath her.

“No hand tied behind your back this time,” Nat said, securing her Widow Bites to her wrists.

Natasha took her fighting stance. Wanda mirrored her as wisps of red danced between her fingers. She took the first shot, summoning a wave of telekinetic force toward her opponent. With lightning-fast reflexes, Nat rolled out of harm's way, narrowly avoiding the destructive force. Sensing an opening, Natasha launched herself into an acrobatic assault. Her strikes were precise, knocking Wanda off balance. The split-second window allowed Nat to grip her arm and flip her over her shoulder. 

With a flick of her wrist from her backside, Wanda unleashed a barrage of red energy crackling with otherworldly force. The sparring became an explosive dance as Nat deftly dodged and rolled through the chaos, narrowly escaping each attack. Seizing her only opportunity, she countered with a well-timed Widow's Bite. Grunting in pain, Wanda launched her backward into the ropes with one swift motion. 

With a fierce determination, Natasha charged forward. Wanda used the last of her depleted stamina to summon a swirling vortex of red. As the intense aura surrounded her, she directed one final blast towards the Black Widow. Nat mustered every ounce of strength and somersaulted forward through the explosion, landing sprawled on the mat. 

Wanda collapsed, her knees hitting the mat with a thud. She was gasping for air, her body wracked with sobs. Natasha lay nearby, her chest heaving and her breath coming in short, ragged bursts. The widow slowly rolled over and crawled towards her, her movements slow and labored. She reached out and wrapped her arms around the redhead’s body, pulling her close. The two women held each other tightly, neither of them speaking. Wanda's sobs echoed through the room, the sound of her pain filling the air.

*^~^*

Secretary Ross glared intensely at the team gathered around the conference table, his virtual presence towering over his desk in a show of authority. He spoke up with a tone that conveyed both anger and concern, "I'm genuinely curious. In what universe do you think I'm going to look the other way while you jeopardize the safety of everyone in existence?" His words hung heavily in the air, leaving no room for doubt that he meant every word.

“I don’t know, Mr. Secretary. Why don’t you pick one, and we’ll find out,” Natasha remarked coldly. No love was lost between herself and Ross.

Maria gently placed her hand on Nat's arm, silently signaling her to maintain decorum.

"If you had taken my warning about Wanda Maximoff seriously eight years ago, we wouldn't face the dangerous threats to all universes she has unleashed. Her actions have repeatedly proven that she is a clear and present danger, and it's time we take action before it's too late." Ross urged.

"We don't judge people based on their worst mistakes," Natasha declared.

"Perhaps you should," he said, his gaze fixed on the Black Widow.

Yelena stood up slowly from her chair, her voice laced with a hint of malice. "Maybe it's time the world knew about your worst mistakes, Thaddeus," she threatened, her eyes flashing with anger.

“And we’re sitting,” Kate said, wrapping her arms around her girlfriend and pulling her back down.

"Excuse me, Mr. Secretary, with all due respect, we are not seeking your permission in this matter. As a courtesy, we intend to inform you of our decision. This meeting is solely to share our plans with you and ensure that you are kept in the loop about our steps,” Steve interjected.

“Tell me, Captain Rogers, what is your intended course of action when the witch inevitably betrays your moral compass yet again?” Ross asked, rising from his virtual chair.

“We never abandon one of our own, Sir,” Steve said.

“To be honest with you, Mr. Secretary, the only one here who lacks a moral compass is yourself,” Maria hissed, swiping away his hologram in frustration.

A hard silence fell across the room.

“That went well,” Clint said, as he placed his head in his hands.

“I know you don’t want to hear this, but he has a point,” Fury concurred, leaning up against the door frame.

"Are you still here?” Tony asked. “I thought you were off to sail the seven seas,” he snarked as he got up to pour himself a scotch.

“Fury might be right,” Bruce interjected. Are we all forgetting how we met Wanda? Or would you like a replay of the nightmares she put in our heads?” 

“No, I’m not,” Natasha said heatedly, turning toward Bruce. “And I’m sure as hell not forgetting who destroyed the Mind Stone when it meant losing the one she loved. Or who was a split second away from defeating Thanos single-handedly, had he not blitzed the shit out of his entire army.”

“Maximoff took an entire town hostage! She manipulated the realities of 3,892 people,” Fury argued. 

“In a state of shell shock and overwhelming grief,” Maria countered. “You and I both know she would never hurt anyone intentionally or of her own accord.” 

“Are you sure about that? Do you know where the Darkhold is today?” Fury yelled. “Because I can tell you right now, Strange sure as hell doesn’t believe it’s gone.”

“I think you’ve made your point,” Bucky interrupted sternly. His Vibranium hand on Fury’s shoulder.

“Buck,” Sam cautioned.

Thor's booming voice cut through the tense and chaotic chatter, demanding attention from all present. "Wanda is still worthy!" he declared with the power of a god. "We shall leave no stone unturned in our quest to help her regain her belief in herself."

“That’s more like it,” Nat said.

“Let’s go,” Maria ordered.

*^~^*

Upon her return, Wanda made it clear that her priority was to provide a normal and safe environment for Billy and Tommy, free from the influence of her past mistakes or her sterile work environment. She was determined to create a loving and secure home for her boys. After multiple meetings with Stark, Wanda decided to move out of the compound and into a house that Tony had designed. True to form, the billionaire created a spectacular home for her and her family.

The elegant craftsman-style house painted in a soft, creamy white hue exuded a warm and inviting aura, beckoning visitors to enter. The stunning embellished concrete path, beautifully winding its way up to the charming wraparound brick porch and the wide entryway, added to the home's alluring charm. The interior was just as captivating, with each room meticulously furnished and perfectly decorated. Tommy and Billy couldn't contain their excitement as they had room to adorn and personalize to their heart's content. She encouraged the boys to let their imaginations run wild, and they eagerly reveled in the opportunity to showcase their unique interests and personalities.

Photographs adorn the walls, each capturing a distinct memory the family held dear. As Wanda gazed upon them, she was immediately transported back to the bittersweet moments of their life in Westview - a life that was nothing more than a fabrication. Despite this painful truth, she remained steadfast in her desire to preserve a fragment of that existence for her sons, who knew no other place to call home. Though tinged with sorrow, the memories were a testament to the love and bond that the family shared, and Wanda was determined to keep that flame burning, no matter how difficult it was to revisit the past.

The family room is tastefully decorated with a large navy blue sectional couch, two elegant Paisley armchairs, and a beautiful Cherry coffee table that seems to beckon you to come and sit. The room's focal point is a stunning painting by Wanda hanging above the fireplace—a reflection of her creative soul and a way to channel her emotions and thoughts. The built-in bookshelves are a treasure trove of knowledge, holding a vast collection of books for all ages. The shelves are adorned with a few carefully chosen plants, each in its decorative pot, adding a touch of nature to the room. The cozy atmosphere of the family room is perfect for relaxing and spending time with loved ones.

As you enter the kitchen, a beautifully arched doorway frames the entrance, inviting you in. This is Wanda's favorite room in the house, and it's easy to see why. The spacious area is furnished with sleek granite countertops and a convenient center island, making it the perfect place for her sons to sit and share stories of their day at school. As you take a deep breath, the delightful scent of Paprikash or homemade pies fills the air, reminding every guest that Wanda's favorite way to show love is through her cooking.

Through the off-white French doors, one could step into a tranquil and inviting backyard that Wanda meticulously cared for. Her passion for gardening was evident in the way she transformed the space into a lush oasis of greenery. The fragrant air was filled with the aroma of the citrus trees that she had lovingly transplanted, and the raised bed, bursting with a variety of colorful seedlings that had sprouted on the kitchen windowsill, was a testament to her dedication to creating a verdant sanctuary for her family to relax and enjoy together.

*^~^*

"Boys, it's time for cake and presents!" Wanda shouted through the window.

"Coming, Mom!" Tommy shouted in response.

Wanda organized a cozy and warm birthday bash for Billy and Tommy and cordially invited the team and their families to attend. It was the first time they had a group gathering outside of work since Wanda's return to the team. While the adults chit-chatted and caught up with each other in the cozy family room, the youngsters were having a blast playing games in the backyard. Cooper, Lila, Morgan, and Nate were among the kids who enjoyed themselves with Billy and Tommy.

Let's go," Clint exclaimed, clapping his hands. "Bring on the cake!

“Relax, it’s not your birthday,” Yelena teased.

Steve and Bucky, with their arms full of colorful gift-wrapped presents, walked over to the elegantly set dining room table. At the same time, Wanda gracefully lit the candles on the birthday cake, decorated with blue and green icing. As soon as Wanda finished lighting the candles, the friends and family sang "Happy Birthday" in unison, and the twins, Billy and Tommy, eagerly blew out the candles.

After the birthday song ended, Billy and Tommy opened their presents excitedly while their mom looked on proudly. The team made sure to honor Wanda's request for no Stark-enhanced gifts. Tommy's gifts included a pair of stylish Nike sneakers, a shiny new scooter, a high-quality baseball glove, and a popular video game he had been asking for for months. Billy, on the other hand, received a high-tech microscope that he could use to explore the world around him, a remote-controlled drone that could fly up to 100 feet in the air, and a brand new sketchbook with Prismacolor Premier colored pencils, so he could continue to develop his artistic skills.

"Okay, here's one more small gift, but let's not devour it all at once," Wanda cautioned as she placed the personalized candy bags from your shop in front of the boys.

“Candy!”

“Sweet!” 

"You can each choose a couple of pieces, and we'll save the rest for later," their mom instructed as the boys rummaged through their bags.

Tommy whirled around the table and embraced his mother. "This is the best birthday ever, thanks, Mom!"

“Yeah, Mom, this was awesome!” Billy followed. 

"Mmmm, this is good," Tony said, returning from the kitchen where he had raided the bag of candy you made for Wanda.

“Excuse me, that’s not yours!” Wanda scolded.  

“I don’t see your name on it.” Tony argued.

Crossing her arms, the redhead insisted, 'Turn it around.'

“Well,” Tony paused. Calligraphy is a lost art,” tossing her the bag.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought you said,” she muttered.

*^-^*

Maria and Natasha decided to stay with Wanda to help her with the post-party cleanup. As they put things away, they noticed red wisps of magic floating gently around the room, lifting empty plates and glasses to the sink. Wanda had always been careful about using her powers outside of missions. Still, resisting the temptation to make things a little easier for herself was hard, especially when her house was full of messy superheroes who weren't particularly good at cleaning up after themselves. As she was putting away dishes, one of them unexpectedly slipped from her grasp and hit the floor, shattering into two pieces.

"Are you okay?" Maria asked as Natasha carefully picked up the broken plate.

“I’m fine, just a bit clumsy,” the redhead insisted.

“Like mother, like sons,” Natasha teased.

“Oh yeah,” Maria said with a grin. “Nat told me all about your little adventure. She said you were smitten.”

"I was not smitten!" Wanda insisted, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

“You had a goofy grin when you came back to the cafe,” Natasha said, scoffing.

“I was simply being a good Samaritan,” Wanda argued.

Natasha's lips curled into a playful smirk as she said, "Oh?" And who were you pretending to be when you purchased those candy bags for Billy and Tommy from Y/N's shop?"

Wanda's eyes widened as she asked, "How did you find out? And more importantly, how do you know her name?"

“Wands, I'm a spy. If one of my friends leaves with a stranger and goes to their apartment alone, you can bet I will check them out.” 

“Well, nothing happened. I got her some ice for her ankle and left, and I didn’t even know it was her shop,” Wanda dismissed. Besides,” Wanda whispered, peering over at her boys asleep on the couch. “Billy and Tommy are just starting to feel at home here. I would never do anything to put that in jeopardy… Not again,” fidgeting quietly with the wedding ring still holding tight to her finger. It had been a year, but she still hadn’t found the strength to remove it.

“We know you wouldn’t,” Maria reassured, placing her arm around her shoulder. “But you are still worthy of the chance to be happy again, honey.”

“Just because you’re starting over doesn’t mean you have to do it alone,” Natasha added. “Is that what Vis would have wanted?” 

*Chapter 4 coming soon*

[saltofmercury]

Realistic

Pairing: John Price x f!reader

Author's note: I wanted to write a little bit for Price, but jfc I think I'm a König girl till I die and I don't see what y'all see in Price. Also I will not be writing a part 2 to this. >:) unless..

tags: @sofasoap, @bunky101, (sorry bunky I know you're a guy) the main thirsty people for Price on my dash.

"Realistic"

Heat crept up in your ears. His cheeks flushed with pink. There's a mesh of bodies between you two, not sure who belongs to who. Large hands come to cup your face, smoothing your lip with their thumb. He holds your face, sighing into complete bliss. You’ve got your hair matted behind you, but your breathing normal again.

“I’m not sure I’ve experienced that before, pet,” he sighs again, smiling softly into your face, fanning you with some of his breath.

You feel some heat rise into your tummy, and your cheeks, thankfully it won’t give away. The pet names were something you needed to get used to, so you offer him a small smile, and roll your eyes shut.

He groans as he gets up, but it’s not due to age, but because of pliability. He’s not used to such strange positions. He’s used to jumping out of planes, crawling around sketchy places, and being in extreme temperatures.

At Price’s age, everything is different.

So when he’s tangled in bed with you, the positions you're yelling at him, come at a rapid speed you’re begging him to move into. He’s on his knees, on his back, towering over you, pulling your legs up, and the temperature in his body is the only one that rises.

Because of his wise years, he’s learned to take his time, really be in the moment with you — his bird. He relishes his time with you, glad that he was able to meet you right after his previous mission.

You had stumbled upon him at a pub, visiting a friend. Sat in the middle of the bar, you sipped on your pint, when an older gentleman sat four stools down — could not keep his eyes away from you. You felt his gaze on you for the past 30 minutes, you were sick of it. You snapped your head his way, giving him a death glare.

He laughed, continued to sip on his drink, 

“Whoa there pet did not mean to trouble you.” 

Pet. The small name made you soften up a bit, realizing he was just innocently sitting by himself sipping on his drink, he hadn’t even said one word to you to disrupt you.

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled, “My friends have been running late, it's already been 30 minutes.”

He grumbled, “Any of my men caught coming in late, I would assume they’re being insubordinate.”

“Your men?” You questioned. Who was this guy?

“Military…we’re used to being on time if not early.”

“Ah…” you said quietly, then turned to the door once more. Great some fucking patriotic old man was trying to hit on you.

“Don’t tell me I’ve lost ya, pet.”

You blush again, the goddamn name, filling your head with softness. You did not want any part of that. First he was clearly older than you, you weren’t sure as to why he would see anything in you, and now he had just revealed he was in the military. Next thing you know he’s going to admit he’s married while blatantly hitting on you.

“Didn’t lose me,” you lie. “Just wondering where my friend is.” You purse your lips and make eye contact with his paperwork then back at him.

“You just look busy.” You address the files he’s got on the bar, hopefully giving him a nudge towards his paperwork and to leave you alone.

“Nothing I can’t finish tomorrow,” he states, closing the file and packing it away.

Your friend didn’t end up showing, and before you knew it you were about one stool away from him now, chatting up about weekend plans.

You stare at him— he’s got an impressive watch, his clothes– mundane, basic, and patternless. You stared at his shoes for too long wondering how on Earth he would walk in those hiking boots around here. 

However, aside from judging him on outer exteriors,

His conversation is fun and light. You assumed it would be him talking down to you, but surprisingly he’s not one to make you feel smaller, or younger than him, he’s lovely and charming, and loves to ask you questions on your boring little life.

Yes, he’s got a weird mustache that blends into his beard, but his hair is combed nicely to the side, and he’s ordering one of the most expensive bourbons this bar owns. He’s just mature, is the way you want to convince yourself about him. He probably invests in stocks and has cash flow for a rainy day. While you barely scrape by and have moved to a different company twice this year. 

It doesn’t matter because you’re not going to see him ever again.

Or not.

By the end of the night it’s you who ends up giving him your phone number, worried that he might call instead of text you. 

Five dates later, you’re in your apartment now pinned beneath him. He’s a big softie, but when it comes to making love his military ego comes out making sure you’re following his every order. 

“Say it, pet”

“I….”

He takes a hold of your two hands with one of his, rubs down your neck, breasts, and stomach until he’s at the top of your clit, he puts his thumb in his mouth to wet it, then back on you. He plays with you, making you gush with fireworks inside your stomach, and warm colors in your head.

You groan, your eyebrows push together as you bite your bottom lip. You’re unsure of what’s about to happen next, and you don’t, won’t cave so easy to this man. Even though he’s making you feel so so so good.

“Say it, pet” he’s removed his thumb from you and moved it to your mouth now, playing delicately with your bottom lip. He’s thrusting so slowly, tenderly inside you, slipping in and out making you squirm even more. How gentle he is with each stroke.

Your emotions are being played with, which only ignites a harsher warmth in the pit of your stomach, staring at the man on top of you, biting your bottom lip, smiling, and happy you’ve met him. You’re grinning from ear to ear, when you close your eyes and say what he wants to hear.

“I love feeling you inside me.”

He’s smiling now. But that’s not going to make him stop. You didn’t say the word cock, which is what’s inside you.

“What do you like feeling, pet?”

Fuck. He’s onto you, he knows he won’t stop teasing you until you feed his ego.

“My fingers pet? Is that what you want inside you?”

You groan knowing that even if he did replace his cock with his fingers, he knows every curve and every nerve on you, begging you to bend at his will.

“I– uh..I love feeling your cock inside me.”

And there it is.

He is relishing in the fact that he’s got a cute little bird like you, that he’s still got the touch to make you squirm and moan beneath him. He wasn’t a man of one night stands, which explains his current company for the past few weeks, and he’s willing to make it official.

You both finish, and you’re back where you started, him complimenting you on how vibrant and alluring you are in bed. You love to hold onto this small euphoria between you two.

That is, until you mention his job.

It’s an innocent question, you ask him one night while you’re curled on the couch, trying to peek at him at your dinner table filling out reports.

"What are you working on?"

“That’s classified, pet.” He dismisses you as he has before.

Then one night you’re at his place and you see the tactical vest he’s got in the closet.

“What’s this?” You ask innocently, touching one of the pockets, until he’s shoved you aside and closed the closet door.

“I don’t want you touching my things. Is that clear?” He’s got a different tone to his voice and it bothers you because you’re not one of his men for him to be speaking to you like that.

“Don’t talk to me like that. I’m just asking a question.” You spit back.

“I’ve told you not to pry into my job, it’s classified business.” 

He pushes you further away.

You chew on your lip, unsure of what to say, the man acts like he’s the fucking president when you ask about a vest. 

The third and final time it sends you over the edge. 

You hear his cell phone ring, and it’s one of those old phones that probably uses the numbers on the pad to text.

It rings and rings, he’s in the kitchen grabbing water, you pick up the phone and bring it to him until you see the name “Laswell” on it and it brings uncertainty.

He’s sighing when you hand over the phone, answering it outside on the balcony.

When he enters the room again, the name, it eats you alive.

“Is Laswell a friend?” You ask, curiosity piercing your head.

“That’s classified, pet. I don’t want you touching my phone.”

“I’m sorry?”

“You should’ve let it ring.”

He turns his back, pulling a shirt on.

“Fuck John, can’t you just answer a simple —“

“I already told you I'm not answering any bloody damn questions.”

He stalks over to you, towering over you, making you feel smaller, wishing you could’ve just kept your mouth shut.

“I’ve asked you already to stop peering into my work life, and you insist on doing it. It’s like dating a goddamn child.”

It stings. In the back of your head you always assumed he saw you as an equal, but now the mention of comic books, Disney movies, and your favorite cartoons brings embarrassment and shame to your stomach. 

“I’m sorry” is all you can really say. You don’t want him to talk down to you anymore.

“I think it’s best you just go now.” He says.

And it hurts you, getting tossed out like this, you never expected it from him. But were you really going to expect anything less from someone who kept his job so secret?

You leave your things there, and show yourself out. Hoping it was just a bad day. Hoping you can get them tomorrow. Tomorrow.

A toothbrush, some hair ties, some lotion, pajama pants, and socks. All things Price has stored away at the bottom of his closet.

Regret still floods him for talking to you harshly that night—but pragmatically, he knows that he took this job and his job always comes first. 

He keeps the picture he took of you with the camera you brought. He snapped away at you holding a sandwich he made you. Your face is happy and glowing, you’re sitting on his couch.

There are times he misses you, he misses you so much that he dreams about you, but he’s not going to drag another one of his birds into this mess he’s dealing with. He’s going to stay on top, stay hidden away, and keep you safe. 

Tomorrow never comes for you.

[sgt-scottymoreau]

No title for this one as it's 3 small short fics I wanted to share just for fun and a little bit out of the main series. The short stories were written after I finished MWIII back then. It has a lot of mix feelings in them and maybe some OCC. I really needed to get some stuff out of the system. Also mostly posting them because I finally got the courage to write my own fic about the game with a lot of changes lol Ain't no way Soap remain dead nope! He will be save in my version! So technically these short are not canon for me (had tem with the note Fake Canon in my files)

Enjoy!

Goodbye Soap (Words: 975 / Warning: Mention of death)

She rushed through the crossover with Gaz and Ghost. The urgency was high. The police agents with Price and Soap were KIA, Makarov's bomb was still armed and the Russian was on his way to the two men. Never in her life did she feel out of breath like she did right now. It wasn't the running or constant shooting at Konnis. No, it was something different. A bad feeling that had her by the throat. When they finally reached the bomb site, Scotty's mind went on auto-pilot at soon as she saw him. The corner of her eyes catched Malarov fleeing with his Konnis, the other saw Price to the bomb. Gaz shouted at the captain to get on the bomb. "Soap said we need to cut the red wire. Only red!"

The rest of the conversation went into a blurr. She kneeled next to Soap, Ghost also by. He called out his name. "Johnny!" Her eyes trailed on the pool of blood, the injury on his head. Her hands let go of her gun, instinctively rested on his shoulder and her fingers clenched on his jacket. 

"Soap…" The knot in her throat gew thighter. Her hand clenched till her knuckles went white. Her eyes meet Ghost's. They both saw it in each other; the pain. The sadness. Scotty barely paid attention to what was being said from Gaz or Price. They were probably telling Laswell about the one KIA and how Makarov escaped. Her breathing got heavier, her vision blurred. It wasn't the first time she lost a friend on the field. It happened in the army. But it has been a while since. And after all they went through together, she never expected it to happen. 

"Scotty! Hey! Camille!" Ghost's voice finally reached her and brought her back to reality. But her mind only had Makarov. Without a word, she grabbed her gun back, ran to the door he had escaped and threw the weapon at it. Pointless as the door was massive and made of metal, it was made to resist in case of flood in the tunnel.

"Fucking Makarov! You fucking bastard!" She screamed followed by another scream of pure rage and pain that echoed in the tunnels. It was chilling. She took back the gun and banged on the door with it. Scotty still had enough clarity to know bullets would only ricochets. Till Gaz came to stop her. He looked at her with as much sadness as she was filled with. The rage in her eyes slowly died down. "He killed him… he killed Soap." Her voice was weak. 

"I know. We know." Gaz whispered. Her gun fell to the ground. "Come here." He opened his arms and she buried herself in them. Ghost watched in the distance, Price standing next to him. None of them ever saw her like this before but they all understood her pain. Ghost also lost a friend, one of the very few people he trusted. They all knew the risks, yet… they couldn't shake off those feelings. Ghost looked at Soap. His friend… family was gone. Again, he had lost his family. 

"I'm sorry Johnny." He whispered, emotion taking him by the throat as well. 

****

A few days later, the four of them were standing on the edge of the hill. Sunset in the distance. Somewhere on the coast of Scotland. They knew Soap would have agreed with this place. They stood in silence for a moment. Even Gaz had removed his cap. Scotty held Ghost's hand. Her fingers softly squeezed it from time to time. Her eyes kept looking forwards, she heard Price's voice in the wind. Ghost's fingers gently slipped away from hers. From the corner, she watched as he bent to pick up the urn in the bag. One by one the men said something. When her turn came, her eyes filled with tears again. She couldn't stand seeing the urn. But she had to say something. "My best friend, the brother I never had." Her lips quivered, her voice cracked on a few words. Ghost opened the urn and the ashes scattered in the wind. The four of them stood there to watch. Scotty felt the emotions grow bigger and bigger, but she didn't want to break down in front of Gaz and Price. Not again. She did enough on the day itself and at the funeral. Her eyes remained glued to the horizon, till Gaz and Price left leaving only her and Ghost. 

"Camille?" Ghost worried. Her face was turning red, she was holding her breath and the silent tears rolled down. "It's alright, love. You can let go."

No scream. Only sobbing as she crouched. Standing felt like too much. Ghost kneeled to her height and wrapped his arm around her shoulders. The past days had been hard for both, but at least they still had each other. "Why. Why him!" She sobbed loudly. "Motherfucker like Graves fucking lives, but life as to take good guys like Soap! Fuck! Fuck everything! Simon… it fucking hurts and it won't stop… I want it to stop." 

"I know, love. We all want it, trust me." He pulled her closer into his arms. His grip tightened as he also felt some tears on the back of his eyes. She always reminded him of Soap, these two were so much alike. Seeing her like this, broken, it only made it worse for him. He wanted to see her back to her old self. Hear laugh and smile. But this would only come with time. For now, they had to grief their best friend. They stayed in each other arms till she calmed down, till their body ached from remaining in the same position for so long and when Price came to tell them it was time to go home. 

Revenge (Words: 1k / Warning: Violence)

This was the last stretch. After another long game of cat and mouse, after having Makarov slipping away so many times, they had him pinned. The 141 finally got the upper hand, they were two steps ahead of him. Even if they were running after him right now. 

"Ghost, Scotty, take the left! Gaz with me on the right!" Price shouted. 

They will corner him. Makarov found himself running in the old building's hallway, alone with no back up, only a pistol with no mag left. He wasn't the kind of man to be afraid, far from it, but he knew when he was about to be beaten. That enraged him. They ruined his plan back then in London, and they did again here. He swore that if he could make it, Price and his task force would win again. The russian quickly found himself in a dead end. He cursed. 

"Drop your fucking weapon!" Ghost shouted, his own gun pointed at him. 

Makarov did not. He didn't back down, instead firing what was left of ammo to the lieutenant. Ghost fell back, as a few bullets hit him. Scotty grabbed him by the collar and pulled him back to cover. "You good?" Panic was obvious in her tone. There was no denying that this brought back unpleasant memories. 

"I'm good, plate stopped most of them." Most as one did graze his upper arm and he was bleeding. More unpleasant memories, that one time in Las Almas. Scotty felt all emotions boiling up. She had to keep them in control. She leaned from cover and pressed the trigger. Nothing. She kept pulling it but no firing. She let out a curse. The worst moment for a stuck gun. If they didn't do anything now Makarov would escape. She looked for her side gun, forgetting she lost it earlier when they took down all the remaining Konnis protecting their boss. She turned to Ghost to use his, however he had dropped it when the bullets hit him. The sergeant leaned out of cover to see it, just as Makarov did. Their eyes met. In a fraction of second both jumped towards it. Scotty slid on the ground, actually kicking the gun out of reach for both. Makarov turned on his heel to attempt a second time to get it, but her feet locked around his leg and he tripped. He flipped on his back, kicking her on time before she could jump on him. Scotty stepped back holding her stomach. It did hurt. Makarov pushed himself up ready to make a run for it. She quickly reacted by throwing herself at him. They struggled again, till she eventually had him pinned down under her. 

"What now, Moreau?" He taunted. 

"Don't say my name you fucking son of a bitch!" She raged between her teeth. A feeling she thought she had buried long ago, seemed to surface again. 

"Why jump on me, when you could have used your knife?" She realized almost too late what he meant, when his hand reached for her throwing knife. Scotty grabbed his wrist, flipped his arm away, swiftly took her knife and stabbed him in the palm. Makarov groaned in pain. 

"No… No, that would be too easy." The light in her eyes grew darker. "A bullet or a knife in the heart? Too easy. Choking you would be the same… You are a monster for what you did. Sacrificing your own people for a war? Disgusting."

"Lecture me as you want, we both know it won't change a thing."

"Indeed. It won't bring them back. It won't bring back Soap..."

"MacTavish?" Pain jolted in his jaw as she punched him.

"Don't say his name!" She shouted. "Don't you dare! You killed him! You killed my best friend!" Another hit on the opposite side. "And just now you almost killed Ghost!" 

Makarov spat blood, a cocky smile on his face. "Afraid to lose Riley? I wonder why. You are close, right."

She yelled at him to shut up. Rage boiled in every inch of her body. Then, her mind snapped. The memories of Soap lying down in a puddle of blood, motionless, glassy eyes, all while Makarov was running away. "You killed my best friend…" She said softly. But the look she had in her eyes sent chills down his spine. There was no emotion, no life in them. 

Ghost watched in the distance. He saw it all. How her back straightened, how the atmosphere felt heavy and then the noises of punches. The cry from the russian as his bones broke under the impact. Her ragged breath, her cries as the pain from a few months prior resurfaced. He saw the blood tainting her first, splattering everywhere. Price and Gaz finally joined up. The sergeant made sure he was ok, the captain went to check on her. "Scotty? Scotty! Hey!" He tried to approach, but he risked getting hurt. "Camille!"

Hearing her name seems to snap her out of her trance. Scotty's fist lowered down and she slowly turned to face her captain. Price's eyes widened, so did Gaz and Ghost's. They knew she was capable of many things. Just like Soap, she did fight the whole world if needed. But none ever saw such a display. Her face was covered with blood splatter, knuckles were red, her clothes were also tainted. Tears mixed with the red on her cheeks. Under her, Makarov lay still, motionless, in a very bad shape. Price placed two fingers on his neck to find no pulse. He turned back to Scotty who was shaking. He put his hand on her shoulder and forced her to look at him, to have her anchored to reality. "It's alright, lass, it's all over. Take a deep breath." He was surprised that she was capable of killing a man with her bare hands. It was a mess. 

Ghost, with the help of Gaz, lowered himself to her height. What she just did was horrifying, at least in the eyes of a commoner. He was still unsure, but… "Johnny would like that." He said with a smile behind his mask. Despite the injured arm, the blood covering her, he pulled her into a hug. Makarov was dead, but it would never change what he did. 

Dumb move (Words: 938 / Warning: None)

Scotty, Gaz and Ghost were casually talking. Joking around, remembering their lost friend. It took them a while to be able to talk of him without feeling an atrocious pain. It still left them with a bitter feeling, but it was bearable. Price joined their table. "What are you talking about, lads?"

"We were talking about Soap." Gaz said with a faint smile. 

"He would have loved to kick Graves." Scotty added. 

"I guess we have to do it for him now." Ghost finished. "And Shepherd as well."

"That won't be a problem." Price muttered. Or he thought so, he swore he said it softly enough but the look on the three operatives made him realize. They heard him. 

"What do you mean boss?" Gaz wondered. Price knew that he wouldn't be able to keep the secret from them. Not for long anyway. So he explained to them what he did. Gaz and Ghost didn't react too much. This was not surprising coming from their captain and Scotty knew that as well. But something didn't quite sit right with her. The execution of his plan. 

"So you put a target on all of us then?" Her tone was dry. Her face was serious and she glared at the Captain. 

"He put a target on himself the moment he sent Graves after my team." He replied in the same tone. 

"Sure. But isn't entering the pentagon or whenever Shepherd was, walking, shooting him and walking out was a brilliant idea? I don't fucking think so."

"Camille?" Ghost frowned behind his mask. That was unusual from her. 

"Oh please Simon! For fuck sake! Never crossed your brain that they will investigate? That they will check who's the last person who had access to his office? They will check camera footage. Fingerprint even! He was a fucking 4 star general for fuck sake!"

"I had to do it." Price growled. He leaned against the table, his hand clenching in a fist. "He betrayed us, lied to save his ass in front of the congress. He got his fucking job back like nothing happened. Nothing would have been done about what he did! He could have done whatever shady thing he wanted again. We don't play by the rules anymore."

"Then we are not so different from our enemies." This sent a cold around the table. Ghost and Gaz glanced at each other unsure where to put themselves. 

"Don't you fucking dare say this." Price stood from his seat. Scotty did the same, not afraid of him. "We don't kill innocents! We don't go for civilians like most of them."

"But killing people just because you feel like it, is as disgusting. Make me wonder if you are not gonna kill one of us because we don't agree with you."

Price inhaled loudly. Ghost had stood by then, a hand carefully pressed on Scotty's shoulder. "Ok take it easy you two. That's enough."

"It's a little hypocrite coming from you. If I recall you were willing to kill your own commander back then."

"It was fucking self defense Price! He would have killed me! He almost did! If I had killed him I was in all my right! You and Laswell were there, you saw it!"

"And you were there when Graves and Shepherd betrayed all of us. Fuck, you kno-"

"Yes I was in Las Almas!" She cut him in a shout. "I was there with Soap and Ghost as we were running for our life to fucking make it to the next day! It still doesn't give the right to shoot the man in his office, to risk the team being tracked like war criminals!" 

"Then you didn't truly care for Soap." This washed over Scotty like ice cold water. Even Gaz and Ghost looked at the captain in disbelief. The captain was now a few inches away from her. Gaz placed his hand on his shoulder, applying just enough pressure to tell the captain he wouldn't hesitate to push him away. "You know he would have agreed with me. He would have even helped if I had asked!"

"You take that back… You take what you just said back, Price." 

"What? You didn't care about Soap? Call yourself his best friend and yet you let him down even after death." 

"Shut your fucking mouth!" She screamed at him, tears of rage rolling down her cheeks. Ghost pushed her backwards and so did Gaz with Price.

"Come on Price, this way out of line." Ghost warned. 

"She is the one out of line! No respect for her superior."

"If Soap died because of you! You should have let him kill Makarov back then! His death is one you and killing Shepherd and Graves won't change that! You didn't care about him! And now you don't care about any of us! You are willing to target us as war criminals and I won't have this! This is not what I signed for!"

"Then quit. Like I care! If you can’t get your precious hands dirty then maybe you are not fit for the 141!"

Scotty glared at him, not saying a word. She was beyond hurt at this point. But what would happen if they connected Shepherd's death to Price was not something she wanted to see. "I can do the dirty work, but you captain. Can you take one for the team? Can you own up to your mistake if they catch you? Or will everyone drag one of us with you to the death row?" 

She moved away from Ghost grip, leaving the conversation here, before blood would spill.

[sizzlinbaconpeach]

I'm sorry but it's ridiculous that you ship them romantically unless there are pictures of Jill and Chris like this, they're just partners and friends in arms and they don't have feelings for each other.

https://64.media.tumblr.com/2f2638883b9d0d8c7e8b2691d5f37667/f71e4854a5101f7a-ee/s640x960/1f0057caacb4c01dfffa18e2f912d87c37ab560b.pnj

Hello! I do not want to start any shipping wars. So, please do not see my replies as an attack on you or your ship. I'm simply sharing what I see in the ship that I enjoy as an explanation to your questions. No hard feelings. I respect your perspective, but I hope you can respect that I have a slightly different one. I fully admit, I want to ship them (Valenfield) romantically, but I can also see them as just work partners and friends.

That's what I like about their relationship - they've worked together for so many years that, in my mind, they practically act like they're married. BUT, I do see how others don't see them as romantically involved (especially since it seems Capcom likes to drop subtle hints and then gaslight them later XD). I haven't seen the newest CGI film (yet), but I bet it just keeps their relationship pretty platonic (which I anticipate).

It's just a pairing that I grew to love as I delved into the RE universe.

RE5 in particular made me ship them haaarrrrdd. They both fought for each other so desperately and it breaks my heart just thinking about it. And it didn't really hit me until I took the time to think about what they've both been through and how much they mean to each other. When I first played RE5 I didn't really understand it. It wasn't until I looked into their history a little more and then read a lot of the surrounding media (like the in game character files, etc) that it struck me just how intertwined Chris and Jill are and have always been in the franchise - then I started shipping them pretty hard.

The first time I watched their reunion scene in RE5, after gaining this new insight, I was trying my best to hold back tears. Like, she died for him and suffered mind-control to save him. And he was the one that freed her from it. He never stopped looking for her (Kind of like the classic lovers trope of knowing the other is alive).

And then the flood gates opened as Chris left the elevator all sad after leaving Jill's side. It was just so obvious to me how much it hurt Chris to have to leave Jill again after searching for her for years.

To me, the writers make it pretty clear just how much Valenfield mean to each other - the real purpose for Chris to even be in Africa was to find Jill. I guess there is a tragedy to their relationship that I can appreciate. Like... how different their lives might have been if bio-terrorism was never a threat. Or at least, if it didn't continually screw with their lives. I can't help but feel like maybe they would have pursued a relationship with each other if things hadn't become so hectic. But instead they were stuck in this 'not the right time' sort of limbo because they have to focus on taking down the next threat. And instead of them being able to enjoy some of their successes in the fight, they come out more battered and bruised. More broken than before. And that's just really sad.

I'm obviously not going to convince you (and that's okay!) as you must have your own preferred ship, but, since this is my blog, I'm going to share more potential romantic (and canon) Valenfield:

Also, some quotes from an official RE5 Japanese guidebook:

"...Chris' chest is filled with an indescribable emptiness. Many comrades have been sacrificed to repair the errors of fools. Even if the world is saved, these friends will never return. He had lost his irreplaceable former partner." "...Chris is staring hard at a statue of a sleeping beauty. He's like a person looking at his lover through a mirror, where the other side of the mirror is a different dimension. [regarding the picture of Jill in a Tricell test tube] ... Despite that, Chris is able to recognize the person. He has been chasing this lead all the while, just so he can repair the missing piece of his heart. This can't be a mistake, nor an illusion. This is a fact."

Indescribable emptiness? Irreplaceable? Looking at his lover? Missing piece of his heart?? Well slap me upside the head and shake the Valenfield outta me, but that's some pretty strong love language if you ask me.

And again, it's totally okay if you don't ship them! I can totally see how they could just be close partners, and you can enjoy whatever ship you'd like.

I only hope I can help you understand a little better why I like the Valenfield ship. And yes, I do admit I'm probably a little too fanatical about it. Sorry ;; BONUS: