#and comms are where you get to get personal and that's fun for me and others

[leavingautumn13]

so, here's a question.

and i want to preface this by saying i'm not doing this yet, just considering the possibility since my circumstances have changed from a couple years ago, and i've had a lot of fun with the requests i've gotten to do for people recently.

if i were to open commissions, strictly in the style of the sketch requests i've done, would people be interested? they'd be cheap--i'm thinking $20 flat per character with one revision (or two, depending on how minor it is), monochrome but with a choice of color by the commissioner, and wouldn't have to just be canon characters. i like drawing ocs, too (provided of course they have a reference).

all of the above would be to keep myself from getting overwhelmed, and balance my ability to work quickly and turn out work i'm satisfied with, and i'd only work on one at a time.

something to consider--again, not happening for a while if it does, maybe won't happen at all. just trying to gauge interest since i have a ton of new followers.

[writerfromthestars]

DPXDC PROMPT: CASS AND DANNY

so i've seen a bunch of things where jason, or damian, or tim, or dick adopt danny. hear me out. Cass does.

Cass adopts Danny.

Danny gets de-aged, and dumped in Gotham to keep him safe from the GIW and Vlad and his parents. Cass is very liminal because of her time in the league, with a mainly empathy-based power set, and during one patrol, she feels something weird coming from an alley. 

She turns off her comms, then goes to investigate and finds smol Danny in a dumpster, trying to find food. He immediately clocks her as liminal so he trusts her purely because he knows she won’t turn him in to the government. Cass, meanwhile, is drawn to the small child, and turns her comms back on long enough to say “Babs, Bat-doption papers,” before scooping up the toddler and bringing him back to the cave. 

Danny is strongly reminded of Jazz, and he is completely fine with whatever is happening, because this liminal woman dressed as a bat found him, and then used empathy and a little ghostspeak to communicate what is happening, so he just relaxes into Cass’s arms.

Cass returns to the cave, and when asked why she has a child, she simply takes the stack of adoption papers Babs has set up, along with a tablet, puts her new kid to bed and falsifies some records to make him her legal son. Any attempts at questioning where she got Danny result in neutrally blank looks and Cass’s insistence that he is, and has always been, her son.

Bruce had been forced to bed early by Alfred for this patrol, and by the time he wakes up, eight hours of much-needed rest later, his children have come to the agreement that it’ll be really fun to fuck with his head, so he wakes up to a small child jumping on him, and, wondering whether he sleep-adopted another child, inquires as to Danny’s origins during breakfast. When he does, Tim looks shocked, Damian’s eyes widen as if he can’t believe his eyes, Cass looks betrayed, and the rest of the table just freezes. 

Hurriedly trying to fix his misstep, he asks what he said wrong, and Steph wraps her arm around Cass, picking Danny up, all while looking disappointed. 

Alfred finally breaks the silence by asking “Master Bruce, have you forgotten your grandson?” 

Bruce bluescreens. He figures out six hours later that while the kid is legally his grandson, he wasn’t present until last night, and he goes through the same process of questioning Cass and Steph about where they got the baby. The two women refuse to give any answer other than “he’s ours”.

Danny has now been adopted by a whole family of Liminals. There’s even a halfa, who reminds him a little of Dan, and he is very happy.

Duke absolutely adores his nephew. He quickly becomes Danny's favorite person outside of Cass, Steph, and Alfred.

[tallulah477]

Feral

Survive The Night Day 2: Predator/Prey

Pairing: Neteyam x Fem!Human!Reader

Warnings: AgedUp!Neteyam, Dark!Neteyam, ***NON-CON***, Dub-Con, Oral (female receiving), P in V, Sex Pollen, Size Difference, Chasing, Primal Play (Predator/Prey Kink), Creampie, Hair Pulling, Knife Play, Restraining Holds (i.e pinning/holding reader down), Fear Kink (?), Alien Genitalia (not really the focus, but its there), Knotting, Belly Bulge

Word Count: 7.3K

A/N: Based off a dream I had where Neteyam chased me through my house and I was running for my fucking life. Why didn't I let him catch me, you ask? Cause dream Talie is stupid.

Summary: You never understood why the Na'vi don't use this particular plant in their healing practices. It's a miracle plant for the humans - cutting healing times nearly in half when used as a topical paste. You would think it would have some similar benefits to the Na'vi. You would be wrong.

**PLEASE READ THE WARNINGS - DON'T LIKE, DON'T READ**

Translations:

Tawtute - Human

Kehe rikx - Don't move

Rutxe ftang - Please stop

Kehe - No

Even considering he’s a nine foot tall blue alien, Neteyam Sully still looks extremely out of place standing on the clean, white tiled floor of the lab. 

His siblings don’t look so out of place when they visit - comfortable and familiar enough within the confines of the lab to make themselves at home among the multitude of beakers, whirling machines, and thick observation glass that make up your day-to-day workplace. Their large bodies twisting and contorting with ease when necessary to accommodate for the smaller space. 

Neteyam isn’t so lucky. He doesn’t like the human facilities, opting to follow in his mother’s footsteps and stay as far away from the skypeople as he can. He’s only here because he was ordered to be, sent by his father to fix his broken throat comm before they head out with the hunting party on a three day hunting trip.

He looks uncomfortable as he stands behind you, back stiff and arms crossed across his broad chest as he watches you tinker with the comm. Repairing tech has never been your strong suit, so it’s taking you a bit longer to figure out than it probably should have, but since you're currently the only person left in this half of the base, the responsibility has unintentionally fallen to you. 

You should be out there too. The thought forms bitterly in your head as you poke at the small opened compartment of the comm with your tweezers. Your favorite part of research is going out into the world and finding the specimens. The lab is great, a fine place for breaking ground and learning new things, gathering knowledge and data about a flora and fauna in a way that no other humans had ever had the opportunity to do before. Pandora is your home, where you grew up and lived your whole life - and yet, it’s still a mystery, and you learn something new and beautiful about it everyday. 

But the real fun is outside the lab. It’s when you're out there, in the thick of it, stepping over breaching roots and feeling the moss of the ground between your toes when you take off your shoes during a rest break. It’s feeling the gentle breeze of air along your skin and hearing the trees rustle in the canopy above you as a result, and pretending that - just for a minute - you can feel the breeze of alien air brush against your face instead of your mask.

Usually one of the older scientists, Alice, offers to stay behind at the lab to run tests and be on call for the Omatikaya should human tech ever be needed. But she’s the most knowledgeable when it comes to locating the elusive and seasonally grown plant that’s come to be known as the Rust Plant. 

So, that leaves you here, on your ass and pouting while everyone else gets to go off and have their fun. 

As far as you know, the plant doesn’t have any special properties or spiritual significance to the Na’vi. But when the red dust-like powder is collected from the center and manipulated into a liquid, the result is a miracle paste that significantly reduces healing time with human injuries. You asked about it once - why the Na’vi don’t try to make the paste for themselves to see if it will work on them - but the only answer you got back was that it had some ‘unintended consequences’ when used by the clan, so they stay away from the plant altogether. 

You don’t think about that when Neteyam walks in. 

The plant mixture, once rust red, is now a beautiful glowing purple inside the beaker - a reaction from the solution added to the powder to form the liquid base. It’s been on the hot plate for a while now, but it’s only just starting to heat up enough to provide small spirals of smoke inside the clear glass. 

You’re glancing at the clock when you hear Neteyam sniff slightly behind you. You don’t turn around, ignoring the little puffs of air that somehow sound like bullet shots in the silence, but a part of you is instantly insecure. What is he smelling? It can't be the mixture in the beaker. Despite the smoke, it doesn’t give off any kind of smell. Subtly, you press your chin to your chest, trying to see if you can smell yourself to find out if maybe it’s you giving off some kind of stench that his overly sensitive nose is picking up on, but you don’t smell anything off about you either. 

The purple liquid is still thin inside the container, needing several more minutes of constant heat in order to bubble and thicken slightly before it can be considered a usable product, but you pause your tinkering on the comm to note the time for the smoke in a small notebook. 

Neteyam lets out a loud sigh when you drop the tweezers to grab a pencil, the annoyed huff nearly ear piercing in the quiet of the lab. This time you can’t help but glance towards the harsh noise, a slight tilt of your head towards the large Na’vi and your eyes meet amber for just a second before they drop again to the paper as you scribble. 

A part of you wants to be snobby, ask a prissy ‘can I help you?’ just because you feel like he’s being so unnecessarily rude when you're just trying to help, but you keep your mouth shut. 

He doesn’t. 

“Are you nearly done?” He grunts, accented tone pitched with agitation as his feet shuffle on the tile. 

“Yes, just a few more minutes,” You say, picking the tweezers back up. “Be patient.”

You think you’ve almost got the comm fixed, just a minor replacement to the tiny inside panel, and you're thankful that’s all it is. It shouldn’t take too long. You’ve nearly got the replacement piece in place now, so all you should have to do is solder it in and it should be fine. Which is good because the sooner you can get this fixed, the sooner you can get the huffy, oversized, unfortunately very handsome despite being an incredible dick of a Na’vi out of the lab so you don’t have to feel him breathing down your neck anymore. 

It only takes another couple minutes for the smoke to consume the rest of the empty space in the beaker, thick white wisps swirling inside of the glass and spiraling out of the top. You drop the tweezers again, cutting the power off to the hot plate and grab the pencil again to log the time. 

Neteyam sniffs again, this time audibly louder and longer, before it sounds like his breath gets caught in his lungs. 

Immediately, your head spins around to stare at him wide eyed, surprise and concern flooding your chest when you notice he’s backed up a few steps. He’s staring at the bubbling beaker, yellow eyes set with suspicion and what almost looks like distress. 

“Are you o–”

“What is that?” He interrupts, voice gruff as his three fingered hand points to the beaker. 

“It’s… the mixture for our healing paste,” You reply, confused. 

“No! What is it?”

“The Rust Plant? The one that grows on the sides of river b–”

You’re cut off again by a sharp hiss, and you have just a second to register Neteyam’s dagger-like teeth as he stalks forward, spitting out a frustrated “You stupid–” before he’s jerking back, hand immediately covering his nose as if to stop himself from breathing.

He looks wild, eyes frantic as he stares at the beaker, and every muscle in his body looks tense, stung up tight like a bow ready to shoot. You’re a scientist, you’re meant to be observant, so you don’t know why you didn’t see it before. But it’s clear as anything now. The smoke doesn’t have any kind of smell to you, but to him - with the way he’s backing away and covering his nose to keep from breathing it in - it must be horrible. 

His tail is trashing behind him, so upset that you think you can almost hear a swish from it cutting through the air like a whip. 

“I need to leave,” He says suddenly. Instinctively, you back up into the desk at the sight of the large and angry Na’vi coming at you again, but he just grabs the still broken comm and turns around to storm out. 

He’s big though, too much for the small space of the lab, and his frantic tail is still thrashing as he turns. The thin appendage accidentally snaps against the side of the still smoking beaker, sending it flying off the desk and onto the ground. 

The glass shatters against the tile, glowing purple spreading across the white floor in a large puddle as the smoke spirals up into the air. Neteyam’s hand instinctively drops from his nose to grip onto his tail, holding the end of it close to him as if to keep it from swinging and smacking into anything else. But you watch, shocked and frozen in your spot as he takes one shuddering breath, and then another, tense back muscles shifting under his cobalt skin with each inhale and exhale of air. 

“Neteyam?” You ask, timidly. Dread shoots through your chest and you have the feeling that something very serious just happened, but you don’t even know what. 

He’s just standing there now, back towards you, but he’s not moving towards the door anymore. It’s like something is keeping him from moving, some unseen force that exploded out of the glass container when it burst and wrapped its tendrils around him before he could take another step. 

Whatever he was smelling from the beaker wasn’t good for him, and now it's in the air, invisible signatures swirling through the small space of the lab, and it's affecting him - the ‘unintended consequences’ of the Rust Plant on the Na’vi.

Your every instinct is telling you to stay away from him, that he’s dangerous. But he’s one of the Omatikaya, and regardless of how he views humans, you know he would never hurt you and disobey his father like that. 

“Hey,” You say, gently. You force yourself away from the desk, slowly moving around him to try to not startle him as you attempt to make your way to the airlock door. “Just relax, okay? Let’s try to air this pl–”

His deep growl has you frozen again, cold ice shoots through your veins at the predatory sound. It’s not a normal growl - not a low, quick sound made in anger or frustration. It sounds dark, a deep dangerous rumbling that came from his chest. A warning. 

You watch in horror as he slowly tilts his head towards you, the pointed tips of his sharp teeth visible under the snarled curl of his lips, glittering in the bright fluorescent lights of the lab. Your brain screams at you to run - danger, danger, danger, it shouts, but you can’t move. The realization hits hard: he’s not Neteyam anymore. The Na’vi in front of you is not the same human-indifferent, scoffing, fearless warrior son of Toruk Makto.

He’s an animal. A predator. 

Feral. 

His golden eyes are now just a thin band of dark honey encircling two endless black holes. And in their reflection you see yourself - tiny and weak. Scared.

Prey.

His body shifts slightly, just the most minuscule movements as he angles himself towards you that you probably wouldn’t have noticed had your survival instincts not been ringing alarm bells in your brain. Without thinking, you grab the hot plate, gripping it tightly at its base and holding it in front of you as your only form of weapon.

“Neteyam Sully!” You shout, and you can’t even believe how out of your mind you are to try to use his full name like an upset mother. “I don’t know what’s going on, but you stop it right now!”

There’s not even a second after the words leave your mouth, not a beat or breath or anything before he’s coming at you. 

Your body registers his sudden movement before your brain does, the roaring snarl bouncing off the walls of the lab as he lunges at you. The hot plate is out of your hands in an instant, the hard base of the plate smacking into his face with a loud cuh-thunk. His snarl is interrupted with a grunt from the hit, body jerking back a step from the impact, and you don’t wait around to see the way his eyes zero in on your retreating form again in rage. 

You can’t think - your body is moving without your brain telling it what to do. Pure panic mixed with raw survival instincts is what drives you through the door behind you, nearly smacking into the wall as you barrel down the main hallway. You hear Neteyam’s footsteps close behind, bare feet smacking against the tile. 

It’s a sound you never thought you would find terrifying. You think of little Mae, the daughter of the staff nurse and one of the science guys, and how the sound of her tiny footsteps stomping on these same tiles floors always brought a smile to your face. You could always hear her coming before you saw her, just a few seconds before she rounded the corner with unsteady steps ready to cause havoc as she tries to run from her exhausted and overstimulated mother. 

These ones are louder though. Heavier, but somehow more quiet as they rush at you from across the unobstructed hall. Your body doesn’t wait for your mind to catch up, and that’s probably a good thing considering you have no idea how the fuck you knew to take the split second turn to your right the exact moment Neteyam tried to pounce. 

You hear his snarl of anger as he rights himself, loud and echoing through the hallway. You’ve managed to best him for a second, but he’s still on your ass - gaining ground on you with his long Na’vi legs despite the cramped human-sized halls. 

Your heart is racing in your chest, pounding with fear, and the adrenaline coursing through your veins is the only thing keeping you going. You can’t breathe - shallow, panicked, quick puffs of air rip from you as you run, your high pitched gasps sounding against the hall walls as a foil to Neteyam’s predatory growls. 

“HELP!” You scream, voice cracking with how loud you're trying to scream. The desperation and pure terror are evident in your voice and you know if someone were around they would hear you for sure. Someone has to be around. They have to be. “SOMEONE HELP ME PLEASE!”

No one responds. No one steps in to intervene. No one even opens their door to try to take a little bit of a peek. No one to run to for help even though it feels like you're about to get mauled to death by a Thanator. 

You’re truly alone. And that thought makes you somehow even more desperate. 

Most people have a tendency to close the doors of their bedrooms, trying to keep as much privacy as they can in the small base. Norm has no such desires, often too excited or too focused on getting to his studies that he outright forgets to close his door. 

It’s a god send now that you’re sprinting through the residency part of the outpost. Your room is one of the last down the hall. You won’t make it. Not with the way you’re shaking right now, body feeling like it's somehow both freezing over with ice and lighting on fire as the fear and adrenaline fight for dominance for your immediate attention. Neteyam’s right behind you, long stride more than twice the size of yours cutting any distance you gained through your miracle of a move back down to barely anything at all. 

He’s going to catch you. 

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck FUCK.

Throwing yourself at a random door is dangerous. Just the extra second it takes to turn the knob and push the door open could almost certainly be the difference between life and death if you even still have a chance at life at all. And even then you run the risk of it being locked. Your eye catches on Norm’s door - open and shining like a beacon of hope amongst the fluorescently lit hallway. 

You don’t have another choice. 

You turn. 

As soon as you make it through the threshold, you slam the door behind you as fast as you can. 

You don’t know what you expected, naively hoping that the door would somehow succeed in protecting you and keeping Neteyam out. It’s not even locked. 

You scream as the door explodes under Neteyam’s weight, the wood splintering as it bursts apart, smaller bits of fragmented wood spraying towards you as the feral Na’vi shoulders his way in. The bathroom to your left is the only option, and you lunge for it just as Neteyam lunges for you. The tears pouring down your cheeks burn your eyes and blur your vision, your loud hyperventilating cries make your throat raw. Another door just barely slammed in his face and your back presses against the opposite door, your panicked hand trying to jiggle the knob but your brain not reminding you how to twist it. This other door hasn’t been used in years - the bathroom that once connected these two rooms together is just used by Norm now since Mary had her baby and her and her husband moved into a larger room to accommodate the crib. It’s locked, and your fingers are struggling to twist the mechanism up to unlock it when Neteyam breaks through. 

Even through your blurred vision, you see it clearly. His arm reaches through the hole his shoulder has made, and the bathroom is too small, too fucking small because that arm looks like its reaching across the entire length of it, fingers splayed out like if he can just get one of the tips to brush you, he’ll snatch you up. 

“HELP!” You scream again. Fuck fuck fuck. You’re going to fucking die. “HELP ME!”

You watch the door in horror as Neteyam pulls his arm back, head dropping to glare at you through the opening, and your veins fill with ice. 

He looks murderous - pupils blown so wide you can’t see the golden ring wrapped around them at all. You want to drop to the ground under that stare, beg for mercy even though the look in his eyes makes it clear there won’t be any. 

“N-Neteyam,” You stutter. Your heart is pounding so fast, blood sounding like it’s rushing in your ears so fast you don’t know how you haven’t had a heart attack yet. “P-please s-stop. P-please.”

His eyes stay locked on yours through the hole in the door, dark and glaring but for some reason he’s paused his attacks. A part of you wonders if your begging is making it through to the non-animalistic part of his brain. Whatever the smoke from the mixture of the Rust Plant did to him, it has to be only temporary. He’s still Neteyam. Neteyam is still in there somewhere. 

“Please,” You try again, voice barely above a whisper. “You’re scaring me.”

He leans forward, one hand curling around the broken wood from the open hole in the door. When he speaks, you don’t know if you’re relieved to hear that he can despite the overwhelming feral actions, or if you’re horrified at how his voice comes out. 

He doesn’t sound like himself at all. His words are clipped, short words made sentences that you don’t understand as both the gravely and growled way he says them as well as overall meaning. 

“Tawtute,” He growls. “Mine.”

“Wha— I-I don’t understand,”

You scream when he hisses at you, long canines and sharp teeth on display through the damaged opening and you have a front row seat to the show as your back presses harder against the door behind you. The hand wrapped around the edge of the hole pulls back suddenly, taking with it a huge chunk of the center and the loud crack and snap of wood snaps your body back into gear. You twist the small lock on the door behind you, unlocking it and wrenching it open when Neteyam throws his body against the opposite door again. You’re out the door and into the next room, slamming the door shut behind you just as you hear the telltale crash of the wild Na’vi breaking through the other barrier. Without thinking, you round the side of the bookshelf that stands on the side of the doorframe. You push with all your might, tipping the bookshelf on its side so that it falls diagonally across the door. A dresser sits just on the opposite side of the door, the bookshelf catching on the edge of the dresser so that it blocks a good portion of the bathroom door. 

Any other time you’d be heartbroken to see the books that fall off the bookshelf in your mishandling scatter along the floor and at your feet like they were nothing more than trash. Today, though, you can’t give a shit about that. 

Your hands grip your hair in frustration as you hear Neteyam’s body barrel into the door, hot tears racing down your face as you waste valuable seconds staring at the bending wood behind the tipped bookcase. It won’t keep him back for long. He could probably easily push it out of his way, but it's something. Your only hope now is that it keeps him long enough for you to get away and that his instinct driven brain doesn’t realize he can just go back the way he came to get around the obstacle. 

Turning on your heel, you sprint out the bedroom door, heading back down the hallway towards the lab. The sound of the loud crash echoing through the empty hall makes you run impossibly faster. Was it the door finally giving way under his weight? Or was it the bookshelf being tossed to the side like it was nothing and he’s about to barrel down the hallway to finish the job that you’ve somehow managed to postpone until now?

You make it back to the lab, foot smacking against the forgotten hotplate still laying on the ground in your haste to get to the airlock. Your hand smacks against the button on the side wall, fingers practically choking the heavy handle as you go to yank it open. The oxygen masks lay forgotten on the shelf next to the door. You don’t care about them, don’t care about breathing right now because what’s good about breathing when Neteyam could end your need for it in just seconds if he catches you. 

The airlock door hisses as the seal breaks and for a split second you think you’ve done it - have somehow managed to survive this deadly game of cat and mouse you’ve inadvertently been forced to play. You can grab a mask and slip inside the airlock. Keep Neteyam locked up here in the lab while you sit safely outside until the others get back or he comes to his senses enough to remember how to open the airlock door himself. 

But no sooner than the thought crosses your mind, an arm wraps tightly around your waist and pulls you from your death grip on the thick metal door. 

You scream as you’re tossed to the floor, body pressed against the cold tile as Neteyam straddles you. His hips pin your legs down, leaving them useless and unable to buck or kick under his massive weight. You beat at his chest with your fists as hard as you can, trying to ignore how they hurt from your balled up fists trying to hit against pure solid muscle. 

Panic manifests in your desperate cries and you aim for his face too, trying to hit or slap or scratch - anything to get him off of you. You feel like an injured animal caught in a trap. And you suppose you are. 

“Get off!” You cry. “Get off me, Neteyam!”

He snarls as one of your hits lands too close next to his eye and he grabs your hands tightly in one of his, pinning them above your head.

Your screams stop, catching in your throat when the bright fluorescent lights of the lab catch on the knife on his hip. The light caresses the blade as he pulls it from its sheath, the sharp tip sparkling as he brings it to press against the base of your throat.

His face is in front of yours in an instant, so close you feel like you can barely breathe in the wake of the knife resting at your throat and the way his huge eyes feel like twin black holes threatening to suck you into their depths if you move even a single centimeter. 

“Kehe rikx,” His words are hardly more than a whispered breath against your face, but their translation rings loudly in your ears. 

Don’t move. 

The point of the knife drags against your neck, scratching lightly as he draws it down your collarbone. It pulls at the fabric at the neck of your t-shirt as he moves it down your chest, stretching and bunching it down as he scrapes the tip through the valley of your breasts. Your heart pounds under the deadly tip of the weapon and your body wants to fight, keep fighting for your life that you know could be taken from you with just a quick movement of his hand, but your fear keeps you frozen. 

Something hard presses against your trapped thighs and your eyes automatically rip themselves from the knife down to the space between your bodies, and your breathing catches in your throat again for a whole other reason. 

Neteyam’s cock is hard in his loincloth, having escaped its sheath and filling out under the thin material enough to raise a sizable tent inside it. 

He doesn’t give you time to react as his head bends down and latches onto the swell of your breast through your shirt, sharp teeth digging into it just enough for marks to surely be left even through the layers of shirt and bra. You yelp, back arching instinctively against the pain, and your body unfreezes as his teeth scrape against your breast before digging into the material of your shirt and ripping.

The loud sound of tearing fabric rips through the room and Neteyam releases the torn fabric from his mouth just to grip it with his hands instead, pulling up and out and exposing your bra clad torso to his darkened crazed eyes. The knife is still in his hand, but the blade is pointed sideways now as he uses the fingers around it to rip your shirt apart. It’s not smart, not a smart idea at all to try your hand at smacking at him again, but you have to do something. 

You don’t know what he wants anymore. What did that mixture do to him? He was chasing you through these halls, growling and snarling like a predator on the hunt for its next meal, and now he’s on top of you - hard and tearing your clothes off like he wants to fuck you. 

You only get a couple smacks in before the knife is back at your chest and you’re forced still again. Neteyam’s eyes are locked onto your chest, following the tip of the knife as he slides it under the band of your bra directly between your breasts. It cuts easily under the pressure of the sharp knife and the covering falls on either side of your chest, leaving you bare to his hungry gaze. 

There’s a mark on your breast from where his teeth had dug into it and he pauses to stare at it greedily. 

“N-Netayam,” You say, slowly. He seems a little calmer now that he has you trapped under him. You need to talk him to his senses. He’s still in there somewhere. He has to be. He’s not all animal. He can be reasoned with. “You don’t wanna do this. Plea–”

Your plea is cut off as he rises off of you, crouching back just enough to give himself room to flip you roughly over on your stomach. You grunt as your bare chest hits the cold tile, arms splayed uselessly on either side of you as you try to get your bearings from the quick movement before he’s using his knife to cut through the denim of your shorts. 

“Neteyam! Rutxe ftang! Kehe!” 

You don’t know why you think pleading in Na’vi will be any different than English, but desperation punches the frantic words out of you before you can even think about deciding to say them. Your hands finally find purchase on the ground beneath you and you try to push yourself up in hopes of crawling away, but Neteyam’s dropping the knife and taking hold of your hips before you can. 

High pitched squeaking sounds hit your ears as he drags your body across the tile. Your hands scramble frantically against the floor as you’re pulled backwards, but there’s nothing to hold onto. They just slide uselessly, voicing their protest in the way the tile screams under your grasping fingertips as you’re hoisted up with your lower half in the air. 

Your back arches against Neteyam’s hold, legs kicking in the air but doing no harm despite their efforts. The hole he’s created in your shorts is enough to have your pussy on display for him, and you can feel his breath on it - hot puffs are the only warning you get before his mouth is on you. Your voice is raw from all the screaming you’ve done, the sound crackling and almost pained as you shout again - shout for him to stop and to let you go as you kick and squirm and beg. 

You want to cry more, any drying tears of fear you have still tracked on your cheeks are replaced with tears of humiliation. Your clit pulses under his relentless tongue, pussy subconsciously clenching around nothing as he licks and sucks over the puffy folds. 

You’re wet. 

You’re so wet already, body confusing the adrenaline caused by fear and desperation and flooding it with the adrenaline that comes with arousal instead. His textured tongue slips across your sticky cunt, licking up your wetness, and a reluctant moan escapes your lips at the rough feel on your sensitive parts. 

A gleam to your right catches your attention and a flicker of hope rushes through you at the sight. Neteyam’s knife is laying on the ground next to you, scattered just far enough when he dropped it that it's a stretch for you to grab it, but not impossible. He’s distracted by your cunt, chest rumbling in what you can only describe as a more aggressive type of purr and your face contorts in unwanted pleasure as the vibrations pulse against your clit. 

You reach for the knife, using one hand pressed against the tile to gain any kind of leverage you can while your other arm stretches out towards the forgotten blade. You're not even sure what you’re going to do with it when it’s in your hand. Would you just threaten him with it? Tell him to back off and that you’ll use it if he doesn’t? Would you cut him a little to show that you’re serious? 

Would you stab him if it came to it?

Your fingers graze along the hilt of the knife, fingertips brushing along the part that it can touch and curling in, trying to coax the knife just a bit closer so you can grab it. Neteyam growls into your cunt, and you let out a gasping curse when his foot lands on your wrist, pinning it to the tile before you can work your hand around the knife. 

“You son of a bitch!” You yell, anger burning through your desperation, but all Neteyam does is push his face deeper into your pussy. His large hands rip at the back of your shorts more, fingers digging into the exposed curves of your ass to spread you apart. 

The pressure in your belly intensifies as he sucks on your clit, laving his tongue over the sensitive bundle of nerves before wrapping his lips around it in what feels like an almost pleasured punishment. 

You’re going to cum. Fuck fuck you’re going to cum on the tongue of the practically feral Na’vi who just chased you through the halls of your own home and made you think he was going to rip you to shreds and leave you to die on the floor for your coworkers to find. It feels so good, so so good and you wail as your pussy spasms against his relentless tongue, contracting against the wet muscle as the coil in your belly bursts in an explosion of uncontrolled pleasure. 

Neteyam groans against your core, lapping up everything you have to offer as you whine and shake. Your legs, still suspended in the air, are becoming numb - the tingling sensation of your limbs losing their life combining with the dramatic pulsing over your oversensitive cunt. 

You grunt as he drops you to the ground, his foot lifting off your wrist as he crouches back up, and you pull it to your chest, cradling it there and quickly checking for any injury as your body automatically tries to curl up in a protective ball. 

His hands are back on your hips in an instant, pulling you back again across the floor until your ass is pressed up against his front. Your blood runs cold when your bare ass meets bare skin. The bulge that was once blocked by the thin layer of his loincloth is now free - large, dominant, and demanding of attention as it presses tightly against you. 

Demanding of your attention. 

The hand on the back of your neck is uncaring as it pushes you down, forcing your face against the white tiled floor as he lines himself up with your entrance. 

“Neteyam, no! Please!” You beg, even as your back is forced to arch from the exposed position he has you in.

And maybe if this was a different situation, a different circumstance, he would have used this opportunity to tease you. Tell you to stop fussing and stay still. To be a good girl for him while he fucks your tight cunt and maybe if you’re good enough, he would let you cum again. You would let him. Neteyam is beautiful, more handsome than any other Na’vi you’ve ever seen. If he would have been kind to you and shown interest in you like that, you would have agreed to fuck him in a heartbeat. 

But he’s not himself. Doesn’t even have his mind enough to acknowledge your pleas with anything more than agitated snarls and frustrated growls. 

His cock feels monstrous as he rubs it between your soaked folds. Thick and hard as the wetness of his own slick mixes with the sticky mess you have already between your thighs. The head of his cock rubs against your tender clit and you can feel how the sheer size of it forces your pussy lips apart.

You can’t take it inside you. Fuck. You can’t. You can’t. 

You whimper when the tip makes its way back to your entrance, nudging against it before the blunt tip presses forward. Your hands press into the tile on either side of your head, mouth falling open in a silent scream even as he presses your cheek further into the floor as he pushes his cock further into you. You feel every thick inch of it as it spears you open, and you expect it to hurt. It should hurt, especially with the way you’re clamping down around him, body automatically trying to keep it out even as it bullies its way deeper inside you.

There’s pressure, so much pressure. He’s too big, large alien cock way too much for your tiny human body to take, but somehow it is. Your brain is trying to tell you to panic, that the pressure is pain and you should scream and cry and try to wiggle away from it. But it's not. He’s stretching you so much, filling you up - but it doesn’t. hurt.

And that realization hurts you more than the cock currently rearranging your guts ever could.

You know it’s the slick. Despite never being with a Na’vi yourself, you know that the wetness that coats a male’s cock to aid it with slipping out of its protective sheath has something in it that eases the pain of penetration. It’s a good thing. Inherently helpful for any relationship, especially for those between a human and a Na’vi to curb the extra struggle of the size difference. 

You always thought it was sweet. A way for Eywa to reward the loyalty of the good sky people who are lucky enough to find everlasting bonds with her own children. 

Now, the idea of it leaves a bad taste in your mouth as the cock inside you pulls out only to thrust in harder. The texture on his cock scrapes against your slick walls as he starts to fuck you, the bumps and barbs rubbing and pressing against the sensitive spots inside you that you didn’t even know you had. 

A waterfall of moans and whines rip from your throat as he moves faster, your higher pitched pathetic sounds a stark contrast to his deep guttural grunts. His hand is off the back of your neck now, instead finding a place at the side of your face as he keeps you pinned to the floor. It’s so big compared to your head that it spans the entirety of it, thumb hooking just under the edge of your jaw while his fingers curl around the top of your head as he holds you down. 

Your thighs shake underneath you as he pounds into you, thick cock so far inside you that you know there has to be a bulge in your belly. There is, you can feel it. The way the head of his cock pushes against your lower abdomen roughly with each thrust and you know that if you could move your hands from the death grip press they have on the tile, you could feel it disappear and reappear under your palm. 

He adjusts behind you, both feet planted on the ground as he crouches behind you to try to push in deeper. Pleasure soaks into your brain as you subconsciously push back against him, pussy clenching and squeezing around him trying to suck him in. 

“N-Neteyam,” And you have more to say, you do. But you can’t form thoughts anymore. Nothing else will come out other than little punched out breathless gasps. 

It takes you a long time to realize that he’s speaking, and even longer for your fucked up and fucked out raddled brain to register what he’s saying. It’s not normal sentences, it’s not even English. His words are still animalistic, growled through gritted teeth as he spits out broken Na’vi between his groans of pleasure. You grew up with the language, but you’re so distracted, so overwhelmed by him and the cock inside you that your brain can’t seem to latch on to what he’s saying. 

You think you hear the word for ‘whore’, maybe ‘take it’, something ‘baby’ but you can’t be sure. 

And then he’s leaning forward, body curving overtop yours as he covers you completely. It’s only then you feel what you’ve been too distracted to notice. The thick knot at the base of his cock, fully engorged now as it prods at your entrance. 

Your hands finally leave their place pressed against the floor as you throw them behind you in newfound panic. One hand pushes against his abdomen as best as it can, trying to slow his thrusts while the other grabs at his wrist in an effort to pull his hand away from your face. The hand on his abdomen doesn’t do anything to slow his relentless pace, but the hand on the side of your head moves to tangle in your hair, gripping it in his fist close to your scalp just hard enough to burn a little as he yanks your head back. 

You gasp at the sharp sting and your gasp quickly turns into a whimper as his knot presses tighter against your soaking hole. He’s unforgiving as he digs it against you, holding your hair tight and forcing your back to arch as you stretch even further around it. You’re too wet, pussy too wet and almost greedy and it takes him in, determined despite the obscene size of the engorged ball of tissue.

“Please!” You squeal. Please stop. Please more. “Neteyam, fuck!”

Your eyes roll back into your head when the knot slips inside you, sheathing itself within your heat with another solid push of Neteyam’s hips against your ass. His cock hits that spot inside you that makes you see stars, your vision whiting out and there feels like there’s cotton in your ears as you cum around him, squeezing him tightly as you soak his length in your juices. Your breath catches in your lungs when you feel his cock pulse inside you, twitching and feeling like it’s expanding even bigger as his own orgasm hits him. 

He holds you close, keeping you pinned and still underneath him with the savage hand in your hair and the firm grip he has on your hip - fierce and unmoving as if to keep you from running away.

As if you even could with the knot locked inside you. 

His growl of pleasure reverberates off the walls as he paints yours. Long, thick ropes of release coating your insides and it's so much, so so much that you feel like you can’t fit anymore. Like if he cums anymore, you’ll burst. The knot is still lodged inside you, locked in and refusing to let you free, but there’s no space left inside you, no space, and you feel the excess cum seep out of your hole from around his knot to trail down the insides of your thighs. 

You don’t remember blacking out, and you’re not sure when Neteyam was able to pull free from you or when he passed out next to you either. But when you wake up next, it’s to voices.

“Oh my gosh!”

“Y/N!”

“What the fuck happened?”

The bright florescent lights of the lab are blinding when you try to open your eyes. Exhaustion seeps from every pore of your body and fuck, you feel so sore. 

Norm’s shocked face is looking down at you when your eyes finally adjust to the light, Max and a few of the other scientists are behind him, faces an equal mixture of shock and horror as they stare at you with wide eyes. 

It takes you a moment to remember what happened - why you’re here, waking up on the cold floor of the lab. Naked. You scramble up, hands clutching at your chest as you desperately try to cover yourself. A deep groan to your right steals your attention from your group of onlookers, and your eyes fall on Neteyam, just waking up from his own sleep.

His eyes are back to their normal gold as they open, groggy at first and then alert in a heartbeat as it registers where he is. He’s up in a crouch in an instant, looking ready to fight but not really sure what he’s supposed to be fighting. Those golden eyes catch on the group, confusion twisting on his face and you can practically see the gears in his brain turning as he tries to figure out what’s going on. 

Then his eyes meet yours, taking in your torn clothes and near nakedness, and you sit in horror as it clicks for him what must have happened. 

And you watch as the horror in your eyes becomes mirrored in his. 

**Special thanks to @quicktosimp and @itchaboi-itchyboy for the prompt!

Taglist: @eywaite @loaksulluyswife @erenjaegerwifee @f-cklife @beautiful-brown-skin-05 @minnory @localjasmine @skywonder @neteyamswillow @luvv4j4ybe11 @vampirefilmlover @aria-tempest @pocky444 @bambithewriter @xylianasblog @anemonelovesfiction @criticallybella

**Comment here to be added to/removed from my taglist!

[okayto]

They must and it's really frustrating 'cause like, it's not people asking who to talk to, it's people automatically assuming the library handles this, and half the time they are straight-up ignoring communication from the person/department who gave them the confusing thing in the first place.

“I got a weird IT email” <- okay ask the IT department

“How do I mail a package” <- idk go ask the mailroom

“I need a transcript” <- there’s this cool, really-visible-on-the-university-website department named “Academic Records” who, in a completely unpredictable twist, handle academic records. in an even more baffling turn of events their page will come up if you type 'transcript' into the uni's website search box or even google transcript + college name. truly a puzzle.

“How do I find instructions for this assignment?” <- ask the professor who gave you the assignment

“What does this assignment mean?” <- ask the professor who gave you the assignment

“I need help with [Non-Descriptive Assignment Title]” <- do you think we know the title of every assignment in every one of the zillion classes thousands of students take each semester, and the details of each one. do you.

“How do I format my dissertation?” <- I happen to know this exact information and document is provided to you, in your class, by your professor, who has never told you it’s at the library

“Where do I get my graduation gear” <- if you're a senior you have a dozen emails about this exact topic. in your email. from which you are emailing us. do you know how to use a search bar.

“I’m having problems accessing my digital textbook” <- cool that’s a question for the bookstore, the people who provided you said digital textbook and have at no point ever involved the library

“How do I return my textbooks?” <- in a shocking turn of events, the bookstore that provided your books gave you this exact information with the books, along with an email saying the same thing, and an online account you can look up both this and their contact information

“I want to buy a hoodie” <- gender-neutral ma’am this is a library

Man I do not understand why students decide the library is the best place to ask questions that have literally no relation to the library

There’ve been some phishing attempts and a student emailed the library saying “I got an email saying IT was disabling my university account” like okay?? ask IT about it? The entire department publicly tasked with handling computer- and account-related issues????

[python333]

im in love with your content omg😭 your writing style is just chefs kiss

can i req a reader with the tf141 being on a mission and hearing an enemy say something in british slang and they just go "what did they just say.." in comms? like a reader who doesnt know anything about slang like not even that bars in the uk r called pubs (if im not wrong) and just nods whenever a private talks in slang, and their brain is just trying to figure out what they just said?

its just a really silly plot with a silly reader :3

pardon? — python333

— — — —

synopsis just as the req says, you know nothing about british slang and on a mission the enemy speaks british and you dont know what theyre saying :3

relationships platonic!taskforce 141 & reader.

characters cap. price, soap, ghost, gaz.

word count 2.6k

warnings 2nd person pov [you/yours/yourself], usage of c/n [code name/call sign].

note HI YES I LOVE THIS REQ!! i take every opportunity i can to make fun of british people so this is right up my alley!! tysm for the compliments hjfhdjskf recently ive been getting more praise on my works and it makes me so happy i love yall. again, sorry if this sounds a little rushed or if any parts are incoherent, i wrote this at 12/1am and im both more productive and write more nonsense at this time + this one is wayyyy shorter than ones i usually do because i didnt know what else to write for it so i apologize for that as well! this is pure fluff and humor (i like to think im funny) so enjoy!!

“—eah, and now we have to camp out here ‘cause he can’t be arsed to do it ‘imself, so I feel like we should have a chat with the others, see if they’re willing to leg it out of here with us,” An enemy soldier suggests to you, his British accent thick enough that you think it might be cockney.

You cross your arms to hide your shaking hands and nod in agreement, as if you understood anything he said, and put on the same shitty British accent you’d been using for the past five minutes you’d been talking to this guy.

“Yeah, yeah, totally,” You agree, clearing your throat before asking, “You know where the others are stationed?”

“You don’t?” He asks, raising an eyebrow at you suspiciously.

“Mate, all the orders I was given went in one ear and out the other,” You sigh, holding back a wince at your desperate attempt to sound more natural using British slang, “I just know I’ve got to stand out here and shoot the enemy.”

The enemy eyes you suspiciously and he takes a moment to try and read your face before he says, “I don’t think I’ve seen you before, actually. Which would be weird, if we’re in the same platoon, don’t you—” 

You sigh and quickly pull out the small switchblade you had hanging on your belt, stabbing the enemy in the neck before he can say anything else and grabbing him before he can drop to the ground, putting a hand behind his back as you half lead half drag him into a dark alleyway beside the building he was stationed outside of. 

You quickly set him down into a sitting position and take your knife out of his throat, tucking the blade back into the handle before adjusting it to latch onto your belt once again, letting out a frustrated huff as you stare at the now dead man in front of you. 

“[c/n], how copy?” Price’s voice crackles through on your ear piece. 

You push in the PTT button and lower your voice, “Copy, I fucked up a little bit. One of the guys was onto me.”

“You were there for five bloody minutes,” Gaz’s voice rings through, his tone both disbelieving and amused, “How’d he already catch onto you?” 

“The British are smarter than I thought,” You breathe out, standing up and looking around for a ladder to climb to get to higher ground before anyone spots you. You go farther into the alley and find an old, rusty ladder with rungs that look like they’d snap if someone sneezed on them too hard—perfect for climbing up.

You wrinkle your nose as your hand makes contact with one of the rungs but don’t say anything otherwise, instead wordlessly hauling yourself up onto the ladder. 

“Reminder that there’s three British people with you, currently,” Ghost’s deadpan tone crackles, his breathing heavy, as you can tell he’s whispering into his mic, “All of which are very smart.”

“I caught you reading the instructions on a box of tea bags the other day, don’t fuckin’ talk right now,” You grumble, slowly climbing up the ladder, hating the creaking noises it makes as you do. It sounds like it’s going to snap at any minute, and you try to go up as fast as you can, but one wrong move and you’ll easily slip, some of the rust that flakes off of the ladder enough to make you slip up. 

“They were circles,” Ghost says, exasperated, “I didn’t know if that made a difference.” 

“I thought British people were supposed to know everything about tea,” You roll your eyes, putting your hand on the next rusty rung up on the ladder. 

“Yeah, L.t,” Soap agrees with you teasingly, the wind hitting his mic, making it obvious that he’s running, “Thought ye Brits were s’possed to ken everything ‘bout tea.” 

You laugh quietly to yourself as you finally make it to the top of the building, the top just high enough for you to look at the few soldiers below and hear a majority of their conversations without them noticing you.

You get to the edge of the rooftop and pull the sniper rifle you’d been carrying around off of your back, glad to finally be back in your element rather than trying to get in undercover, and set it up. 

You pull the stand out and set it on the edge of the roof, and look through the scope of the rifle, lining it up so that it’s aiming directly at one of the soldier’s heads, specifically the one that was standing directly out of the entrance you originally were meant to try and get into—but doing this didn’t change much.

Regardless of if you got in or not, he would’ve died, and the others would’ve gotten in too. You getting in first was just meant to make it more efficient.

You press down on the PTT button on your earpiece as you look through the scope of your sniper rifle, keeping the aim on the soldier in front of the entrance, “The guy in front of the entrance is just standing still, so whenever you need me to, I can shoot ‘im down.” 

“I don’t think we need to get in just yet,” Price hums, “But maybe in a minute.” “M’kay,” You hum, taking your eye away from the scope, instead just looking over at the enemy soldiers. You lay on your stomach, leaning your head down a bit to try and listen in on the enemy’s conversations easier, trying your best not to make yourself too obvious.

The conversations were pretty boring and almost the same for every soldier you’d eavesdropped on, for the most part. Enemy soldiers joking around, talking about what they’ll do once they’re on leave—like they would be able to do that after you completed your assignment—and just some general team camaraderie.

The lackluster subjects of their conversations weren’t bad at all, no, in fact, you could care less what they talk about. 

It was their stupid accents you hated. 

Are you surrounded by British people everyday? Yes. Does that stop you from hating on the British everyday? No. Okay, maybe the accents aren’t stupid, but God, they had the thickest cockney accents you’d heard in your entire life, and it was making your eavesdropping so much harder, and had almost been the reason you were given away earlier.

They used slang words that you’re certain you’ve never heard before in your life, and used analogies that didn’t even make sense—you heard one of them use the words, verbatim, ‘Don’t get stroppy’. Stroppy? Stroppy? 

You narrow your eyes down at the soldiers below you, listening to a conversation they’d just started up. 

“—eah, ‘cause he can’t be arsed to do anything about it, so now we have to camp out here and wait for somethin’ to happen,” One of the soldiers scoffs, “I’m telling you, man, if I see that skull-masked bloke runnin’ ‘round out here, I’m legging it from ‘im immediately.” 

You draw your eyebrows together in confusion, but you stay silent for now. Isn’t that exactly what the other soldier said? Are they like a hive mind or something?

“You’re legging it?” The other soldier asked, sounding almost incredulous, “What happened to you chattin’ to some of the others about your loyalty and what not?” “All that’s irrelevant when the fuckin’ grim reaper rolls around and starts murkin’ people like he’s been doing for the entirety we’ve been here, mate,” The first soldier laughs, “You think I wanna be here when he does that?” 

“Don’t act like a prat about it, man—fuckin’ talking’ like you can outrun him.” “A prat? I’m not—” You tune out the rest of their argument and instead try and figure out what they were saying.

A prat? Legging it? Can’t be arsed? What the fuck? You push the PTT button on your earpiece and as quietly as you can, you ask, “I need some help. Serious help. Life or death situation.” Immediately, Price’s voice rings through, “What? What is it? What happened?” “The soldiers are British and I can’t tell what they’re saying,” You answer, ignoring Price’s relieved sigh on his end, “I need help.” “Jesus, fuck, don’t scare me like that,” Price sighs, taking a few breaths before continuing, “Alright, what do you need help with?” 

“Figuring out what they’re saying.” This time, you hear Gaz’s voice crackle through, “Well, you’ve got three British people here—tell us what he’s saying.” 

“One of the guys was talking about ‘legging it’ if he saw Ghost heading towards him, and talked about Ghost ‘murking’ people, and then the other guy he was talking to told him he was being a ‘prat’ about it and he got all offended,” You eloquently say into the earpiece, watching as the argument gets a little more heated. You can hear an amused huff from Ghost on his end and a scoff from Soap in return. 

“They’re just saying they’re gonna run away if they see Ghost because he’s been killing a lot of their soldiers, and the other guy said he was being a prat, which I guess is like…” Gaz pauses to think of how to explain the slang term before settling on, “Someone who’s kind of full of themselves, I guess. Or ignorant. Either or.” 

“They couldn’t just say that?” You muse quietly, still staring down at the enemy soldiers. 

“I’m gonna pretend you didn’t just say that,” Price’s voice cuts through, “Go ahead and shoot the guy down. I’m ready to head in.”

“Got it,” You hum, quickly putting your eye back up to your scope and readjusting it a bit before quietly warning, “Shooting him now.” 

You pull the trigger and the enemy goes down immediately, and through your scope you can see the small twitching of his body as the other soldier starts to freak out.

You quickly aim the gun at his still-alive friend and shoot him down as well, silently congratulating yourself on your good aim and continuing to look through the scope, watching as Price runs in with Gaz and a few other soldiers. 

They struggle with the door for a moment and you sigh before pressing in the PTT button on your earpiece and quietly saying, “Price, Gaz, move away from the door for a sec.”

Wordlessly, they do as they’re told, and you take the opportunity to line up the gun’s aim with the complex electronic panel on the outside of the door and pull the trigger, shooting the most crucial part of the panel, causing it’s functions to disrupt and as a result, the doors open. 

“Thanks for that,” Gaz breathes out as Price kicks open the door, his voice cut off a bit at the end as he takes his hand off the PTT button too quickly in order to follow after Price. 

“Uh huh. Of course,” You say offhandedly, taking your eye away from the scope of your sniper rifle and listening to the loud sirens go off in the facility the others break into, and push yourself up so that you can sit up straight to properly watch it. You grunt as you sit up, stretching your arms out for a moment before letting them fall into your lap. 

“Are they in?” Soap asks, curious, his voice a little strained and breathy. There’s no loud gusts of wind coming through his mic anymore, and you look around for a moment, before your eyes catch on to him climbing up a ladder to get to the rooftop adjacent to yours.

Your lips twitch into a smile at the sight of him completely clueless to your presence and you press your PTT button to talk. 

“Yeah, they’re in,” You say, watching as he finally gets to the rooftop, “Didn’t you hear the sirens?” 

You can see Soap’s eyebrows furrowed together in confusion for a moment, and he looks around for a moment before finally seeing you on the rooftop directly next to his, and he looks surprised for a moment before a grin splits across his face. You see him press the PTT button on his mic as well. 

“I did, yeah, just wanted tae be sure,” He says into his mic, looking right at you as he does, “It’s a surprise seeing you here.” 

“Imagine how I feel,” You muse, almost to yourself, before looking away from Soap and speaking up, “Ghost, you don’t wanna join us on the rooftops?” 

“Absolutely not,” He replies almost immediately, making you huff out a small laugh and Soap’s grin grow, “I’m perfectly fine on the ground.” 

“Where are you?” You ask, scanning the area around you for Ghost, “I feel like I haven’t seen you this whole time.” 

“I’m just behind the facility,” Ghost hums, voice still a low whisper, “I’m gonna be heading in once Gaz and Price make it to the second floor to clean up the first, in case there’s anyone left.” 

“You’ve been behind the facility this whole time?” Soap’s voice cuts through, surprised by the fact. 

“Mhm,” Ghost hums. 

“It’s a bit boring back there, innit?” Gaz’s voice crackles through, his voice a little breathy, “You can sweep the first floor, by the way. Should be nobody left, though. Pretty sure all the soldiers were just faffing around, not doing much.” 

“Fucking faffing around?” You ask incredulously to yourself, though apparently your voice is loud enough to make Soap chuckle. 

As if he can read your mind, Price’s voice comes through, “Faffing around is just doing nothing or doing nothing particularly productive, [c/n].” 

You sigh and push your PTT button this time, talking into your mic, “You couldn’t just say that, Gaz? You had to say something silly like faffing around?” 

“It’s not silly,” Gaz says, his frown audible, “They were faffing around.” 

“Jesus, fuck,” You breathe out, laughing lightly, “It’s totally silly.”

“No, it’s not.”

“Yeah it is.”

“No it’s—” 

“I just want one day where you two don’t start up stupid arguments like this,” Price’s tired sigh comes through, “Just one day, I beg of you both.” 

“Aw, Captain, we were just faffing around,” You whine playfully, the misuse of the slang making Soap cover his mouth with his hand to muffle his laughter and you hear Ghost groan into his mic. 

“That is absolutely not how you use that,” Gaz says, though you can hear some laughter in his voice—from your very non-British accent saying British phrases, you presume, a small grin gracing your lips at the thought. 

“It sounded natural to me,” You lie straight through your teeth, shrugging even though only Soap can see you. 

“You’re insufferable,” Gaz groans, making you laugh quietly, “Never use British slang again, please.” 

“What if I get a British accent? Will that fix it?”

“Nothing can fix what you’ve said today, [c/n].”

“Well that’s dramatic,” You scoff, “I’ll learn British just for you guys.” 

“Holy shit, please stop talking,” Price’s exasperated voice interrupts the both of you, “You’re both insufferable. Drop it.” 

“… I don’t think I will,” You say defiantly, making all three British people in the same voice channel as you groan in unison, the sound sounding like some sort of middle school choir trying to sing in harmony, “I’ll use Duolingo or something to learn it.” 

“British isn’t a language you learn, you muppet,” Price grumbles, making you snort. 

“Muppet?” 

“It’s someone who’s dumb and clueless and can’t take a hint, like you,” Ghost defines, “And Soap, most of the time.” 

“Daen’t go draggin’ mae into this,” Soap’s voice quickly cuts through, “I haven’t said onything.” 

“Uh, yes you absolutely did, earlier, remember?” Gaz argues, ignoring Price’s protests for him to stop arguing, “About Ghost being stupid with the tea thing?” 

“Oh, I’ll have you all know—” 

“Ghost, don’t start—” 

You listen as the once casual, teasing conversation turns into an argument and chuckle quietly to yourself, knowing that they’d be arguing about this until you all finished your assignment.

[empresskylo]

ghost seemed to despise you, making a mission you have to do together much tenser than it ever had to be...

a/n: i feel like this isn't great but i had fun writing it. idk.

cw: none i guess

simon "ghost" riley x fem!reader

wc: 3.6k

masterlist

The cold wind blew through your hair making you tighten your coat around your torso. You rolled your eyes as you walked silently beside Ghost. Of course, he wasn’t talking to you. But he was being more quiet than usual. 

You were new and had managed to get him to speak to you the first few weeks, basic training, and small banter as you talked to the task force on the comms. You thought he even liked you at that point. The way he would gaze at you gave you goosebumps. 

Then suddenly, Ghost began to ignore you. You knew you were not skilled physically. You weren’t really ‘one of the guys’. You were their tech nerd who had been trained to work in intensive situations. You felt like a black sheep among wolves. 

Maybe that’s why Ghost didn’t like you very much. You were just extra weight. You couldn’t always protect yourself the way the others could. You often put the men at risk when they would shield you from danger you couldn’t fight off yourself. 

Soap had to remind you that you were crucial to the team. You were the only one with engineering abilities—and pretty impressive ones at that. But still, it seemed like Ghost was repulsed by you and your helplessness. He made sure you weren’t on his team during missions. He’d look the other way when you’d catch his eye in the halls. He’d yell at you when you fell behind. He’d glare at you while you trained. He’d contest your appearance on more dangerous missions. It was tiring watching him act normal—whatever that means—around everyone else. 

You muttered a few things to Ghost, trying to get him to talk, awkwardly fumbling your words. As usual, he didn’t acknowledge you. 

“Well, this is fun. I just love talking to myself,” you groaned as you matched Ghost’s strides. It was just his luck that this mission required Ghost’s stealth and strength, and your tech skills. He would have put up a fight, but he knew you were the only one with the right skills for the job and he wasn’t about to compromise an important mission just to avoid you. 

Ghost side-eyed you, huffing in response to your whines. “You always this whiney?”

“Actually, I can get a lot worse.” 

“For God’s sake,” he muttered.

“Whatever,” you mumbled. “��Sir,” you added in at the end, remembering just who you were grumbling unpleasantries to. 

Ghost’s fist clenched, his breath deepening. “Wasn’t my bloody idea to take you on this mission with me. Trust me, I would have much preferred you stayed back.”

You shook your head. You were over it. “I’m not that bad, you know.” You peered up at him. He kept his head forward, scanning his surroundings as he walked. “The other guys like me.” You felt like a child as you kicked the dirt as you walked. You weren’t the type of person who needed everyone to like them, but you’d be lying if you said it didn’t hurt you to see Ghost joking and being friendly with the others. Why did he hate you so damn much? 

You walked the rest of the way in silence. 

Night approached and you weren’t even close to where you were supposed to be—likely your fault for slowing Ghost down. “Can’t we just stop and rest a bit?”

“We got to get this mission done already,” he breathed, the way you were dragging him behind was giving him a headache. 

“Yes, I know. But it’s not really a time-sensitive mission…” you pleaded annoyingly. 

“I want to get back to base,” he said sternly, his head snapping in your direction to solidify his words. 

You followed behind him as he weaved through an abandoned building, his gun raised and ready. 

“I can’t really be that insufferable, right? I mean you like Soap just fine, and he’s loads more annoying than me,” you mumbled, speaking of Soap affectionately, but wanting to get your point across. 

He grunted in response—if you could call that a response.

You took in a sharp breath before speaking, waving your arms as you did even though he couldn’t see you as you stalked in his shadow. “I know you don’t like me. You’ve made that blatantly clear. I just thought this would be a good opportunity for us to get to know each other better. I don’t know, maybe not ‘get to know each other’, that sounds lame. I just… I just thought you’d like me if I was able to prove myself—“ You slammed into Ghost as he faced you, gun resting by his side.

“What?! Why did we stop?” You asked in a panic. Your eyes immediately started searching the perimeter, trying to locate a threat. 

“I don’t hate you,” Ghost said through gritted teeth, his accent heavy. 

Your brows furrowed as you looked up at him. He was actually listening to your rambling.

You suddenly felt embarrassed under his gaze, regretting every stupid word you just said. You must have sounded so pathetic, complaining that your superior doesn’t crack jokes or tell you how good you’re doing, like any of that is important. His eyes were burning holes through you. “Oh…” was all you could muster. His eyes shied away from you finally, deciding not to say more than he already did. 

He turned and began moving again. You felt your cheeks warm as you tried to shake off what just happened and followed Ghost.

You felt your eyes growing heavy, occasionally blinking for too long, seeing black, and feeling like you were about to nod off before startling yourself back awake with wide eyes.

“God, damn it,” Ghost huffed as he looked at you over his shoulder. 

You shook your head trying to wake yourself up. “Sorry, Lieutenant. I’m awake.” You pushed the hair out of your eyes and tried your best to keep them open. 

You could see Ghost contemplating something under his mask. He may have had most of his face covered at all times, but his eyes were full of expressions.

“Alright. We’ll rest a bit here. I’ll keep watch.”

You felt a sigh of relief knowing you could finally close your eyes for a minute, not caring enough to question him. You sank against the cool metal wall behind you. “You’re not gonna sleep?”

Ghost adjusted his stance. “Someone’s gotta keep watch. Now hurry up and sleep before I change my fuckin’ mind.”

He didn’t have to tell you twice. You were out as soon as you closed your eyes.

You stirred, your body moved up and down waking you. You slowly pried your eyes open, wondering how long you had been out. That’s when you realized why you were moving. You were curled up against Ghost’s chest, his arm wrapped around your waist.

Your eyes widened as you rested against him. His breathing deep. 

You tilted your head to look up at him and he was already staring down at you. Before you could speak, Ghost answered your question. “You were shiverin’.” He said matter-of-factly as if that was a perfectly good explanation as to why the Lieutenant had you pressed up against him. Especially knowing how much you seemed to bother him, why would he care if you were a bit cold?

You pushed yourself off of him and sat up in an attempt to be at eye level with him. You were partially straddling his thigh as you stared him down, trying not to succumb to his dominating glare in an attempt to overpower you. 

“I was… Shivering?” You raised a brow, clearly not buying Ghost’s explanation. Ghost continued to stare at you. “What? Were you attempting to kill me in my sleep and then I woke up and ruined your plan?”

You pushed up off of him in annoyance and you felt his large hands grip your waist. He yanked you back so you were sitting on his thigh. Your eyes were wide with shock. Shit. Did I just piss off the lieutenant? You thought.

Ghost's voice was husky as he spoke, his throat strained from being awake for 42 hours and not getting much water. “I don’t fuckin’ hate you. And I wouldn’t plot to murder one of my men,” he growled. 

You raised your hands in defeat. “Okay. Okay, I’m sorry,” your voice became meek as you remained under Ghost’s grip, his fingers likely leaving bruises. You thought about pointing out the fact that he had said ‘men’ and not women, so technically he wouldn’t be lying if he still plotted to kill you. But you knew he was not in a joking mood��not that he ever was with you. He could see the way you were completely missing what Ghost was trying to say.

“Jesus, you’re as bad as Soap,” he mumbled.

You gave him a questioning glance. “And by that, you mean…” 

Ghost glared at you from under his mask. You could feel your ears warm. After what felt like hours, he pushed you away and stood up in a huff. “Let’s go,” he commanded. His voice was stern and you knew if you made a joke or argued, he’d likely knock you on your ass. He was grumpier than usual. 

You followed behind him solemnly, kicking at the ground as you walked like a bratty child. 

You still were exhausted, your eyes red. You had slept maybe 30 minutes before you woke up in Ghost’s arms. The memory made you shiver. 

Ghost growled, clearly as annoyed as any one man could be. He squatted in front of you and you looked at him dumbfounded. 

“Wha-“

“Get on.”

You laughed, but Ghost stayed squatted. Your face went stoic. “Wait. You can’t be serious.”

“I want nothing more than to go to sleep and forget this whole fuckin’ mission, but you sleepwalking will make it take twice as long for me to get what I want. So get the fuck on.”

You gulped. This was next-level embarrassment. Not only did the men have to protect you, but now your lieutenant had to literally carry you. 

Your face was burning hot as you timidly reached out and jumped on Ghost’s back. All his tactical gear made your position against him sort of uncomfortable, but you didn’t dare complain.

Ghost stood, his arms hooking under your thighs and began walking. 

You both were silent the whole rest of the way, your arms wrapped around him as he carried you. Every once in a while he had to adjust your position back up and your heart would beat just a bit faster as his fingers slid along your thigh. 

It felt like it took forever to make it back to base, you couldn’t imagine how long it would have taken if you both had to walk at your own pace. You were thankful at least that Ghost decided to carry you and not leave you behind to find your own way back. 

Ghost had departed from you once you made it inside and you hadn’t seen him since. You stretched, sitting on your bed and staring at the clock. 1:34 am

You grumbled as you stood up and began down the hall in your slippers, not exactly very happy that your sleep schedule was messed up. You had slept for a good 17 hours once you crashed, but that meant you were now wide awake at 1 in the morning. Ghost was probably fast asleep by now and not rolling around in bed like you were. You rolled your eyes at the thought. Only you’d be able to mess up sleeping, you imagined Ghost mocking in his thick accent. Why did the thought give you butterflies? 

You walked past the gym to go outside and get some fresh air when you saw a single light on in the corner of the gym. You rubbed your eyes, stopping and focusing through the window. It was Ghost. 

You pushed open the door and spoke softly. “Lt.?”

Ghost grunted as he set the weights he was lifting down and turned to face you. It was dark but you could see that his mask was pushed up so he could down his water bottle and you felt your ears warm. 

“What?” He asked exasperated.

“Shouldn’t you be sleeping?” You asked quietly as if people were sleeping in the gym. But your voice was likely so low because you knew you were just going to irritate him by asking. Maybe if you spoke softly, it wouldn’t sound as jarring to him. 

He walked closer to you, grabbing a towel to your left to wipe his sweat away. You could make out the stubble that painted his jaw now that he was only two feet away. “I’m fine,” he grunted.

Most of Ghost’s eye paint had washed away from sweat and you could see the dark circles. “When was the last time you slept?” 

Ghost groaned and it made you take a step back from him. His hand pulled his mask back down and he walked back to his weights, ready to start lifting again. The man was going to work himself to death.

You walked over to him with a bit more confidence. “Lt., you really need to rest. You’re gonna hurt yourself if you keep—“

He spun around, glaring at you. “You know why I can’t fuckin’ sleep?”

You felt small under his intense stare. You shook your head. 

“Oblivious, you are,” he grumbled, putting his weights away. 

“You want to talk about it?” You finally asked, unsure of what else to say. Maybe this would be a good time for him to confide in you? 

Before you knew what was happening, Ghost had you pinned against the wall, his breathing deep, your own heart racing in your chest. This isn’t what you expected.

“It’s because of you,” he growled.

“Me?” You said in a soft whimper. Was he truly this upset because you weren’t like the others? You got flustered and fumbled with a gun in your hands. You weren’t as skilled in battle as they were. You were just the tech guru. 

“You,” he grunted. “You’ve fuckin’ clouded my thoughts. You keep makin’ me distracted.”

Fuck, so your clumsiness was distracting him. “I’m sorry, I—“

“I can’t stop thinkin’ bout your warm body pressed against mine.” His voice was darker than earlier, but much quieter now. His strong arms straddled each side of your head, his eyes piercing you. You mentally jumped at his words.

“I… I don’t understand.”

“Bloody hell,” he grumbled, always irritated with how clueless you seemed to be. Weren’t you supposed to be insanely smart? Couldn’t you feel his eyes on you wherever you walked in a room? Couldn’t you see the way he purposefully avoided you since you were too much of a distraction to him because of how effortlessly breathtaking you always looked? Or because he was focusing so hard on making sure you were okay that he’d lose track of what he was doing? Couldn’t you see the way his fist tightened when you said you thought he hated you or when your honey-laced voice called him sir?

Ghost pushed his mask back up to his nose and bent into your face, your eyes widening. “You’ve consumed my every goddamn thought,” he mumbled before connecting his lips with yours. You froze at first, completely caught off guard. Ghost… Liked you? Really, liked you? 

Ghost was about to pull away but then you started to kiss him back. You couldn’t help yourself. 

He pushed himself closer to you, his hands dropping from the wall to rest on your hips. He pulled back and loomed over you, your flustered face making him feel weak again. “Hard to sleep when I can’t stop thinkin’ bout how your warm body felt so nice against me. Knowin’ I shouldn’t be thinkin’ bout you like that.” 

It all made sense now. You finally understood why he seemed to hate you. You began laughing. Of course, someone like Ghost would act like that when he had a little crush. This whole time you were so worried he would always despise you when that was never even the case to begin with. 

Ghost watched you until you stopped giggling, your face going serious in return. “Even though I’m awful at everything I do?”

Ghost’s arms were back next to your head making you jump. “You’re not. You’re great at exactly what we need you to be great at. It’s the reason you’re part of the task force.” You looked unconvinced and Ghost dragged a hand over his mask in annoyance. “Yeah, so you’re terrible with a fuckin’ gun. Why would I care about that?”

You shifted uncomfortably. “I figured the lieutenant would hate anyone who wasn’t useful in the way he was…” 

“You think so lowly of me?”

“No! I only meant… I mean, I figured you admired strength and deadly skills more than…”

He mumbled your name heavily and you got chills. “I don’t fuckin’ care about any of that. You can do shit that I wouldn’t even know where to begin. If anything, it drives me crazy knowing you always need protection.” You took in a sharp breath, your palms flat against the wall behind you, worried he was about to explain why having to protect you all time drove him mad with rage, but what he said instead made you blush. “Makin’ me act… Possessive.” He sighed like he was talking to himself, explaining exactly why he couldn’t be attracted to you. “I can’t be actin’ like that.”

Your heart was pounding so loudly in your chest that you almost couldn’t hear what he was saying to you. “Why?” You whispered. You could see Ghost’s jaw tighten under his mask. He stayed silent, not answering your question. 

Ghost’s eyes followed your hand as you reached up to his chin making him flinch. In embarrassment, you began to pull your hand away, but Ghost caught your wrist in his and moved your hand to lay against the side of his jaw. “Jus’ not used to touch, s’all.” 

“But you like it? Touch, I mean.” You asked softly, your fingers caressing the cheek of the scariest man you knew. If anything, the way he was towering over you, trapping you between his arms, made him scarier. And yet…

“Mhm,” he hummed almost inaudibly as if he wasn’t used to being vulnerable and was struggling to admit it.

Ghost wasn’t sure what to do next. Your voice surprised him when you asked him a question he didn’t think you’d ask. “Will you kiss me again?” Your eyes fluttered up at him. 

His eyes danced between yours. “Want me to?” A brow raised beneath his mask, his pupils blown.

You nodded. Ghost’s hand was on yours again, pulling it away from his face and pushing it against the wall behind you. His palm engulfed your hand entirely. He leaned down, hovering over your lips, brushing them slowly against yours. You whined before he finally kissed you again, this time rougher than before. 

When was the last time Ghost kissed someone else? He couldn’t remember. So then why was he acting so bold? Like this was a normal thing for him to do? It was likely the intense lack of sleep that was making him act drunk. 

Ghost moved and cupped your face as he kissed you. Your small hands gripped his shirt and tugged him closer to you, making Ghost chuckle against your lips. “Needy, aren’t we, love?” 

You were falling in love with the way he spoke to you. So much gentler than earlier. In a voice you never heard him speak before.

He pulled away, his lips hovering over yours, his eyes flickering across your face. “You really should sleep,” you whispered, the dark circles under his eyes perfectly visible to you now. 

“Yeah? It’s rather cold in my room,” he muttered, his eyes studying your own. Your hands stayed twisted in his shirt, “Need me to keep you warm, Lt.?” You couldn’t believe the words coming out of your mouth. Granted, they were barely over a whisper. Normally Ghost could think properly, it was one of the many things he was known for, and he knew that this was a bad idea, but coming up on 50 hours without sleep was making him loopy.

He grinned and grabbed you, pulling you up and over his shoulder. 

You yelped, “Ghost!” He smirked as he walked back to his room, tossing you on his bed. It was the same size as your bed: a twin. How on earth did this man fit in such a tiny bed? It was cruel. And how were the two of you going to fit?

“I don’t think we both can—“

“Would you stop whining for once and just lay beside me?” His voice was groggy and stern. You blushed in the dark, almost entranced by the way you irritated him. Except now you knew he liked it. 

Ghost climbed into the bed beside you, his room pitch black. He grabbed your waist and pulled you against him, startling you at his boldness. He had to hold you basically on top of him so you could both fit, but he didn’t seem to mind. 

Within minutes he was asleep, his soft snoring rumbling through his chest. You smiled, resting against him. His arms tightened around you. You knew this was going to be a… situation in the morning. This was going to be awkward and would fill Ghost with regret and embarrassment, but right now, your eyes felt so heavy. And even if you wanted to leave, you weren’t sure you could escape Ghost’s grip. 

[mxtantrights]

Hi! Can i ask some quick enemies to lovers with Jason Todd? Which is not much "enemies" but two prideful people that won't admit they have feelings for each other and they like... have similar personalities. It can be sfw or nsfw, it's up to you <3

Byee, thanks.

(Maybe reader also being a vigilante too hehe)

a/n: thank you for this amazing request. I was about to have so much fun with this!!! (also kinda left it open so if there is a desire for part two, just leave me a message!! <3)

It doesn't hit either of you like a brick wall or a train like it should. No. Because why would it? Love doesn't hit you over the head in the middle of the night. It happens slowly.

It happens when Oliver asks you to cut home early because you almost missed a step and went over the rooftop of a building. Which you deny but you know it happened because Oliver is never really one to say 'go home'. So you take his orders. Oliver shakes his head as he watches you go. Ever since he told you that some of the team from Gotham was coming to Star City to help a case you've ben off your game.

It happens when Jason doesn't see the trip wire. Dick has about seven seconds to clear the room and drag Jason with him. The two of them get safely away from the loud bomb. Bruce is talking over the comms, asking if everything is alright. Jason grumbles out some sort of response. Dick knows he's not on his A-game because he's part of the crew going to Star City, where you operate.

It happens when you come face to face with Red hood after not seeing him for a few months. The last time you saw him he saved you from a round of gunfire. You couldn't figure out if he saved you because it was the right thing to do or for some other reason.

It happens when the two of you have to guard a safe house for a couple of hours. There is nothing to do. It's mindless boredom. It's endless. It's so boring and Red doesn't make it easier because he doesn't try to converse with you either. You try to make small talk but he seems to talk in grunts or just silence.

It happens when the mission goes wrong. The informant is nipped on someone else's patrol. You and Red are called in to figure out who did it and to track their every move. You spend about eight hours by his side and say about ten words to him.

It happens when you two find the culprit and are faced with a difficult decision. Take justice into your own hands or hand them over to the Oliver and Bruce. Red leaves it up to you.

And for some odd reason, that's when you realize it. At that moment it dawns on you. Like the final crumb of sand falling in a hourglass. You like Red. You like him even if he doesn't speak a word to you, or if you fail and fumble in front of him.

You try your best to keep it to yourself.

But it's hard to do that when he seems, different.

After that night when he left the choice up to you, he seems to be another version of himself. A version you didn't know existed. He greets you, he tries to make small talk, and he gives you compliments and praise.

Oliver and Bruce notice it too. They keep their smiles and shit eating grins to themselves. Honestly the two of them honestly make this a thing amongst themselves. Who can get the ball rolling first?

Bruce asks Jason about it one night after patrol. To which Jason replies with a stern 'no' and nothing else. Oliver asks you when he takes you out for lunch and you also tell him a simple 'no' and move on.

It keeps happening like this. Red does something that makes you think maybe, sort of, possibly. But you don't take that step. And Red goes through the same thing about you. And talks himself out of telling you anything.

One day though, it does come to an end.

You're in an alley in Gotham. You're not on a mission. You're just a civilian in this situation. A civilian who wants to take an alleyway cut instead of walking two blocks. It's safe to say that when you get held up at gun point you regret not walking those two simple blocks.

What goes down, goes down fast. You manage to get the jump on two of the scumbags. But one of them does have a gun. They aim it right at you and the shot should hit you but it doesn't. It doesn't because of someone.

Red hood stands between you and the gun. The bullet flies off his patted amor chest. You watch as all the guys in the alleyway scurry like rats. You're left there, wide eyed and shocked.

Red Hood turns to you and offers you a hand up. You take it, and try to think of something to say. Anything. A thank you. A sorry. Something that should leave your mouth. But all you can think about is how he's saved your life again.

And that's the word you say. 'again'

It catches him off guard. So much so that he takes a step back. You think you might've said the wrong thing. But then again, you think to yourself that he won't really know what you're talking about. You're seeing him as a civilian. He's never seen you as a civilian. He doesn't know who you are.

But he could now.

He could now.

[peachy-skies-writings]

keith kogane x archer reader headcanons!! maybe u can include both pre relationship and established relationship headcanons!!

Agh sorry for the delay! Hope you like :)

I wasn't sure if you meant archer like the tv show or someone who does archery so I just did archery since I actually know what I'm talking about with that! Let me know if not and I'll research archer.

Also so glad you send about Keith phew I've been wanting to write about him foreeeevvveeerrr

Voltron Keith and Archer!Reader (GN)

Pre-Relationship

He thinks it's pretty cool that you're an archer. Keith is more up close and personal with the enemy so it's interesting for him to learn how you fight.

If you're in the fight with him providing long range support, he'd try to keep up with your arrows. He's a lil competitive what can I say?

Will stop for a brief sec to admire your shot if you do a great one and it's safe enough. You might even get a "heh nice" if he's feeling chatty.

I feel like Keith would ask to see your bow and your arrows to look at the craftmanship - he's pretty big on weapons, especially knives, so if you've got a cool bow (you definitely do) he'd ask to hold it and look at the carvings.

Big fan of watching you train... so he can learn... of course... definitely not oogling... no idea what you're talking about.

BONUS: Lance definitely makes fun of him for staring at you while you're training.

Established Relationship

Fighting with him is great, he is usually slightly ahead of you and super fast but you've trained with him enough to know where to shoot without hitting him. You both keep tallies of how many enemies you got and compare while you're travelling back. One with the least does the dishes.

If you land a particularly impressive shot, you'd hear "great shot babe!" through the comms (and groaning from Lance).

Trusts you with his life ngl would let you shoot an apple off his head. Has offered multiple times which is uh a lil worrying (he likes adrenaline a teeny bit too much)

Will tell Krolia about your archery skills and basically brag to her about how good you are. She'd definitely say "if you're that good then you can shoot this off my head" (Like mother; like son)

At the Space Mall, he'd not actively be looking but he'd definitely keep an eye out for anything archery themed there that he can get you. Whether that's new string for your bow, new gloves or a really nice new quiver (in red and black ofc so everyone knows you're his).

Watches you train and will give you pointers. He tries to train with you to improve his long-range defences with his sword and shield but sometimes (most of the time) the training will end with you both making out.

[oceantornadoo]

Hiii can I request one of the boys (or all) comforting medic/surgeon reader, who’s in their unit, for not being able to save someone and reader goes into a depressive episode because reader has known them since they got recruited. They’re doing their best to cheer reader up, but it’s hard to budge through the stress of not being able to save a life. Thank you 🥹

this is not poly!141 so each blurb is that character x f!reader. some are established relationship, some are just unlabeled.

ao3 link

simon:

simon riley was a quiet man. that's why he liked you, always talking just because you were eager to share, never expecting him to reciprocate. he knew he was blunt, gruff, and (a bit) unlikeable, so it always seemed safer to respond in as little words as possible. on days like today though, he just had to say something. you hadn't said a word to anyone in a week (he checked) and stopped coming to every "optional" friendly hangout after a rough mission. you were holed up in your room ever since your patient had died, and he meant to do something about it.

"what." you said gruffly to the person knocking at the door. "'s me, dove." simon. "go away." instead of listening, you heard the door open. you turned around in your bed to face the wall, avoiding eye contact at all costs. "i'm not good company right now, si." you could practically hear him shrug. he closed the door with a sigh, the silence between you two enveloping the room in a cocoon. instead of hearing your desk chair sqeak, you heard a rustle of clothing, tac gear dropping to the floor. almost as if he was taking off his clothes? but there was no way, this was ghost, who wore a stupid mask and stupid gloves that always made you wonder about the veins underneath and-

and suddenly simon riley was climbing under the covers with you, clothed in only his boxers. you knew because he was everywhere, skin on skin, wedging one large, scarred thigh between yours. his left hand under your pillow, right hand sneaking its way to your waist. he drew shapes on your skin with his calloused hands, the only sound in the room the scrape of his skin on yours. "we'll get through this, yeah?" you nodded against him, not trusting yourself to speak, tears caught in your throat. simon nuzzled himself into your neck, and for the first time that week, you slept through the night.

johnny:

usually, you loved the sound of johnny's laughs, boisterous and fun, bringing energy into every conversation. this week, though, you couldn't stomach it. you stopped laughing at his jokes, stopped shoving him when he tried to put his arm around you, stopped engaging in his talk on comms when you had the mantle of field medic. you cringed when you saw the spark in his eyes dampen, but you couldn't seem to care when a similar image of your comrade dying on the field took a starring role in your nightmares.

this was your second nightmare tonight, the image of your comrade's bloody body, sinking into an open grave. you could almost feel the packed dirt in your throat, succumbing to the grave you put her in. and suddenly you were awake, blinking at the darkness of the room. you were so tired, emotionally drained, you didn't even think about where you were walking, just knew you were leaving your room. and suddenly, you were knocking on johnny's door, knowing he'd be up at this time. he swung open the door, misinterpreting what you were after. "bonnie. knew ye'd give me a late night call soon." you rolled your eyes at his joke, feeling an unwilling smile creep onto your face.

"not that kind of night, johnny." he winked anyways, ushering you into his room. "glad ta see you smile, lass." that dimmed your mood. you suddenly scrambling changing your mind. "well i just wanted to say hi but you're busy so i'll leave you to it-" johnny covered your mouth with his hand, effectively cutting off your thoughts. "up ye go." you squealed as he picked you up, depositing you onto his bed. he locked the door and turned off the light, keeping a nightlight on just for you. "yer gonna tell me about all those thoughts in that pretty head of yours, hm?" you nodded, and felt the weight lighten off your chest for the first time in weeks.

john:

john was your rock. a fellow higher-up, hardened by war and bittered by reality, wrapped up in a fatherly manner. he was all knowledge and hard truths with his men, but with you? on a day like today? after standing in blood for three hours, using half of the base hospital's resources to try to stop what should have been a typical infection that was actually poison? that fatherly attitude could shove it.

"need to search your office for poison, doctor." john was a shadow at your office door. "yeah, sure, whatever." you needed to put in requests for all the supplies used, finalize the death certificate, launch the investigation. the last thing you cared about was john following protocol. you didn't register the captain's movements until he was behind your chair, leaning down in your ear. "come on." he took your hand's off your laptop's keys, placing them in your lap. "the boys will be here any minute, love. come on." you let him guide you, going numb at the feeling. the reality that your patient had been poisoned, targeted, and you couldn't do anything about it was suddenly hitting you. john was making you stand up, but you were in a trance, just a body he could move however he wanted.

you blinked and you were standing in his office, looking at his chair. "go on. i'll make an exception just for you." you shook your head, unable to explain why not. "you need to sit, love." you shook your head again. the medical part of your brain told you the shock was hitting. john sat in his chair instead, guiding you between his legs. you looked down at him, at his hands on your waist. making a split second decision, you ungracefully collapsed sideways into his lap. john grunted but said nothing, adjusting your feet to hang off the chair. your arms circled his thick neck, hands rubbing at his beard. he took off his hat, laying it on the table, then kissed your forehead. you tucked your head into his neck, and finally, finally, let yourself cry.

kyle:

gaz was loveable and cocky, which you were okay with. you called him kyle to humble him, a playful nudge. he called you sweetheart right back, that accent of his playing with all the right vowels just to rile you up. but today, two days after the death of your comrade that you should have saved, you didn't feel sweet at all. not one bit.

"its after 11. should be in bed by now." he was at the door of your office, taking in the heaping piles of medical reports on your desk.

"kyle, im busy." you huffed, not bothering to look up. your comrade's autopsy report was staring right back at you, clinical notes on how she could have been saved if you had just had the supplies.

"sweetheart-" you almost slammed your pen on your desk. "don't call me that, kyle. i'm not in the mood." he wasn't deterred, warm eyes swimming with understanding. "this about what happened?" he mumured in a soft voice, like he was comforting a kitten instead of you, a dark hole of guilt. "i just-" you made the mistake of making eye contact, of seeing how kind he looked. the tears started rushing out and you couldn't stop them. you hadn't cried when she died, so maybe it was finally time. "i just keep looking at these notes about what i could have done, if things were different and gaz, idontknowwhattodo..."

you trailed off, embarrassed. calling him gaz was a sign of weakness, of this whole facade crumbling down. "come 'ere.” you stood up and walked between his open arms, a small laugh erupting as he overexaggerated how heavy you were. "you did more than anyone on that field could have done. and you're still sweet to me. even when you're a bit of a snotty mess." he kissed your forehead then, and you weren't even going to touch what that meant. all that mattered were gaz's strong arms, holding your waist and rubbing small circles as you put all your physical and emotional baggage on him. and for now, being held was all you needed.

--

had to let this one simmer for a bit. thanks anon <3

[lilac-nites]

List of Lolita Resources

Someone in my comm encouraged me to make this list of resources for new lolitas. We were talking about how hard it can be to find information from Google search and there's just so much misinformation out there. I have a list of links that I've bookmarked and read over the past decade for when I finally become a lolita. I organized the list by sections in a specific order. It goes from information about the fashion and then to where to buy it.

To any new lolitas, there is so much information out there about lolita fashion that is still available. Part of the fun for me was researching the fashion, looking at coords, and learning what makes lolita lolita. There's so much information out there for you to immerse yourself in and even more stuff that's not listed in this resource list.

What is Lolita Fashion

Fyeah Lolita - This is my favorite blog and I still go back and read it. The last post was made in 2016 and the fashion has changed a lot since then, but it's pretty comprehensive and provides a good base knowledge. Imo, I think these articles (1 2 3 4) are required reading for anyone entering the fashion Lolita Fashion 101 - Bay Area Kei did several videos on lolita fashion during lockdowns. I recommend them for anyone that prefers video format. Raine Dragon's Lolita 101 series - Raine is a lolita that still updates her blog and has a lot of information on the history of lolita fashion. And she has a really great article on Chinese indie brands that should also be required reading for anyone new to using Taobao.

Costs of Lolita Manufacturing - One of the first things you'll notice is that lolita can be expensive. This resource breaks down the costs associated with manufacturing and why brands charge what they charge.

Substyles of Lolita Fashion

The below links are for the three basic styles of lolita fashion. If you research more, you'll find that there are different directions that you can take your wardrobe, but I recommend starting with one of the three above to make it easier for to build your wardrobe. Classic Lolita Sweet Lolita Gothic Lolita

Where to get Lolita Fashion

Before even buying anything, you will need a tape measure to take your measurements. You'll need to measure your bust, waist, hips, and shoulder width in centimeters. That's how you will find out which clothes will fit you. Sizing can be different from brand to brand and country to country. I know many are used to buying using letter sizes, but it's best to go by actual measurements. Aim to buy clothes that are 4 - 6cm larger than your actual measurements to allow room for breathing/eating/etc. If you're brand new to the fashion, I highly recommend sticking to the sources listed in the videos below. It's very easy to get scammed if you don't know what to look for and I'd hate for anyone to lose their money on barely wearable clothes from Amazon/Ebay/Aliexpress. Where to Buy Lolita FashionHow to shop for Lolita Fashion online - secondhand is life for lolita fashion and there are so many options. PinkFakeFlowers goes in depth into the many ways to get it. I personally recommend 42lolita for anyone looking to buy from Chinese brands on Taobao.

Plus Size Lolita

Unfortunately, many of the Japanese brands and even some Chinese indie brands are not size inclusive. If you can't fit into the mainstream brands, don't worry there are still options. I always recommend Meta since they have a Plus Size and occasionally a Plus Plus size of their dresses and blouses that goes up to 160cm or even 200cm in some releases. Plus Size Lolita Crash Course Where to Start as a Plus Sized Lolita - This is a wonderful resource listing brands that are size inclusive.

Online Spaces for Lolita Fashion

Lolita fashion is pretty spread out now compared to the EGL (still recommend reading livejournal because its a cool time capsule of the lolita comm) days, but there are still groups on Facebook. BSoLF - Great for beginners to ask questions and be helped by others. It's hard to search here but I recommend looking through the group for info. Your Local Comm (if applicable) - most are still on Facebook even if they still have a Discord. You can search for your local one on this list.

More Resources for New Lolitas

Lolita Tips for New Lolitas Three helpful tips for coordinating an outfit Lolita Tips Tumblr - I don't recommend Fanplusfriend anymore, but 42lolita is a good replacement. This tumblr is a great resource for inspo and there are many answered asks to reference. Unfortunately, polyvore is no longer a thing and many pictures are missing as a result.

Bonus

These are just a mishmash of links to resources/lists/blog that I like. Lolita Collective

Lolita youtubers ask

Lolita tumblrs ask 20dollarlolita and her post on replicas

More plus size lolita brands ask Japanese Wikipedia entry for Lolita fashion and list of brands

Azuki Mikan

Buttcape

Old School Lolita

[jasmines-library]

Lost and found.

WHUMPTOBER DAY 20. Prompt: “You will regret touching them.” Fandom: Batfam

Summary: After falling into a trap, you are captured by Scarecrow and exposed to his fear toxin. When your older brothers arrive to help you, your fear gets the better of you.

Warnings: Fear, disappointment, beating, hurt.

Word count: 2K

MASTERLIST ⛤ WHUMPTOBER WORKS

🕸 ⋆ ⁶𖤐⁶ ࣪⋆🕸

You hadn’t been living with Bruce that long. A few years. If that. You were the baby of the family, younger than Damian and in some ways you supposed he resented you for it; always narrowing his eyes at you when passing him the hallway. You often felt estranged from the rest of the boys, never fully understanding their inside jokes or nightly routines. You never felt as though you belonged despite the fact that the older boys had tried to make you feel welcome. 

The one person you had managed to connect with was Alfred. When your time wasn’t occupied by training or patrol it was often spent curled up in the study with a book and excitedly explaining it to him. Reading was one of your passions; it allowed you to escape the harsh realities of the cruel world and alfred was glad to hear you rant, it often resulted in him mirroring the smile on your face. 

It was a late autumn night when the call came in. You were lounging on the window seat watching the rain batter against the glass. Your brothers were out on patrol and you were the only one left home, so you floated over to the phone, answering it and bringing it to your ear. 

“Hello?”

There was static on the other end of the line, followed by a shuffling. And then came the voice of a child. “Please… please help me.”

You began to pull on your suit, listening closely to the girl speaking over the phone. 

“My friend she-”

“Calm down.” you told her. “I’m on my way. Where are you?”

She rattled off her location through sobs. “Please hurry.”

“It’s gonna be okay.” You reassured her. 

Once you had calmed the girl, you slipped out of the exit of the batcave and began to race through town. It was a quiet night. The rain had pushed many people inside, so the lack of people on the streets really threw you off, but you decided to warn your brothers where you were going, just in case. 

“Nightwing?” You asked over the comms, hoping that he wasn’t too occupied to answer. 

“Raven?” He wrinkled his nose. “What are you doing out?”

“A call came in. A young girl said her friend was cornered by a group of armed criminals. I’ve got it handled, but I thought I'd give you a heads up.”

“Copy that Raven.” 

The line went silent again as you continued to push your way into the city until you reached the location that the scared girl gave you over the line. Only, there was no one in sight. You called out into the darkness but there was no reply. And then, there was a sharp prick to the side of your neck. 

~

When you awoke, your hands and hands were bound together by old rope that scratched at your skin. The floor was dank and dusty and your mask had been torn from your face. You could feel a small nic along your eyebrow, and your entire body ached. 

Without full use of your hands, you struggled to sit up when you noticed the figure leaning against the wall across the room. Tall and masked with a straw hat, he loomed over you, observing you from afar. You used your legs to inch yourself away from the humanoid figure, but he outpaced you, squatting down in front of you and trailing a gloved hand along your jaw.

“Hiya little birdie.”

“Get off of me.” You spat.

Scarecrow tutted, but removed his hand. “I’m glad to see you. You see, I've been watching you for some time. I’ve seen how miserable  you’ve been. And I've been waiting for a chance to get you alone. I have to say though, it was much easier than I anticipated.”

“Go fuck yourself.”

The villain chided. “Mm, I have something more fun in mind. You see, I've been experimenting with something new. Well, new and improved. You see, my old fear toxin, it was good but you couldn’t really feel. If you know what I mean? So I did some experimenting and I've finally created something I've just been dying to test out. So I figured, why not have some fun while I'm at it?”

“They’re coming for me.” You told him with narrowed eyes. “And you’re gonna be a dead man?”

He tilted his head, resting his hand on the door before he stepped out and shut it completely. “Are they?”

He bolted the door shut, leaving you in the dimly lit room where a thick, green smog began to billow through the vents. You tried to back away from the smoke, but it surrounded you, cascading down all four walls. You took a deep breath, taking in all of the air you could, but it didn’t last long, eventually you couldn’t stand the burning in your lungs and you were forced to inhale the substance, choking as it filled your lungs. 

When the green began to fade away, vanishing into the air, you were left alone in the silence. Though it wasn’t long before the door was broken down by heavy pounding, and the masked face of your brother burst through the door. 

“Y/N”

You breathed a heavy sigh of relief. “Jason. Oh thank god, I thought you weren’t going to come. He told me that you none of you would and I-”

“Shut up.”

You stilled. “What?”

“I said shut up!” He kicked you hard to the ribs eliciting a yelp from you. 

“Jason…?”

“God, are you as stupid as you look? Shut it.” Jason kicked you harder, each one growing in intensity and followed by a snarky remark. You tucked your head to your chest, pressing your hands tightly to your ears until eventually, Jason vanished into a cloud of green and you were plunged back into emptiness. 

“Oh god… Y/N.”

It was Tim’s voice, shaky as he raced towards you. His hands gripped your arms as he forced them away from your ears. You half glanced up at him, doing a double take when you saw the look set upon his face. It was tender, but laced with worry. You wanted to reach out into his arms, but you were hesitant. 

“Come on. Let’s get you out of here.” He bent down and removed the frayed rope from your wrists, you rubbed them. Tim then swung his arm around your shoulder to help you up, but you only made it a few steps towards the door when he flung you over his shoulder, sending you plummeting to the floor with a sickening crack as your skull collided with the ground. Your head throbbed as blood dripped from the crack that had opened in the back of your head. 

“Silly girl.” Tim laughed. “You really think we care enough to come and help you? After you were foolish enough to fall for his trap? You always mess things up Y/N. You’re a burden. Nothing more. Bruce’ll be glad to finally be rid of you.”

“Tim, Please-"

He reeled his fist back to land the final blow. You scrambled backwards, raising your arm above your face to protect yourself, but no pain came. And Time was gone. 

Fat, hot tears were rolling down your cheeks by the time that Damian entered the room. He narrowed his eyes at you like he normally did. They were so full of hate. You closed your eyes, biting down on your trembling lip and sinking against the wall. 

“Get up.” He demanded, voice thick with venom. 

You squeezed your eyes shut even tighter. 

“Damian… please don’t. I don’t need to hear how-”

“I hate you.”

It was only three words, but they cut right through you like a bullet. 

“I hate you.” He gritted out. “You ruined everything. We were fine without you. We were happy. And then you came along and you- you took all of that away. You’re a disappointment. And I hate you.”

Damian didn’t move to hurt you, but you supposed in some ways that's what hurt the most. Not the pain and the beating, no. That’s not what you were scared of. It was disappointing your family. You grimaced as Damian left, waiting for the cycle to start again.  

~~~ 

Damian didn’t think he had ever ran faster in his life. His boots slapped against the concrete as he raced alongside his older brothers. He had never been more scared than at the lack of your voice over the comms. The four of them had been trying you for hours but had had no such luck. That was until Alfred managed to snag your location on the computer. And so the four of them ran. 

Dick’s heart thundered against his ribs. He feared what Scarecrow had done to you. He had heard the stories; witnessed the horrors. But he couldn’t bear to fathom what your mind would conjure up. You had seen too much. 

When he pushed his way into the warehouse, it was dark. And silent. The four of them kept their eyes peeled for a sign of anything, but there was no sign of you or Scarecrow. That was until Damian spotted the frame of the door poking out from behind a metal cabinet. It took two of them to haul the heavy piece of furniture away. It squealed awfully as it scraped across the floor. When they pushed the door open they had to squint to see you hidden in the corner of the room. Your eyes were wide and you were hyperventilating at the sight of them.

“Y/N?”

“No, no…” You shook your head, trying to back further into the wall when he took a step towards you. 

Jason tried too, but it only worked you up more. 

“Not all of you…please. Please…”

Jason knelt down beside you, reaching to touch you gently, but you flinched away.

“It’s not going to work.” A voice laughed out from the doorway. 

The brother’s whipped round to face the scarecrow. 

“What have you done to her?” Tim spat. 

He chuckled deeply. “She’s been exposed to my new fear toxin. See, I don’t know what she’s  been seeing but whatever it is, you guys are clearly an important part of it.”

Tim gritted his teeth. “You are going to regret touching her.”

They surged forwards, pinning him towards the wall. He fought back, but was no match for the anger-fueled vigilantes. When he slumped to the ground, they were tasked with the even more challenging job of getting you out. But when they moved towards you, tears rolled fatly down your face as you sobbed. 

“Please…” You shook. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Don’t hurt me please.”

Damian froze. “What?  

“You’ve done enough…please.” 

You flinched as the youngest of your brothers laid a hand on your shoulder. 

“Y/N? It’s us. We’re real, I promise.”

You shook your head. “...no”

“We’re not gonna hurt you, kid.”

“You already have…”

Their hearts stopped simultaneously and Dick swallowed thickly. 

“I’m sorry Y/N.”

Everything went black as his fist collided with your head.

~~~

You sat up abruptly. You were back in the safety of your own room, tucked away in your bed. Although you were more aware of what had happened, you couldn’t shake the fear that rolled over you. But you weren’t alone when you woke up. You were surrounded by a sea of familiar faces.

“Y/N?” Dick asked when he noticed your eyes were open.

“Yeah.” You murmured groggily, rubbing the sleep from your eyes.

“Are you okay?”

You just shrugged meekly.

“Oh y/n/n we were so worried.” Damian said. His tenderness was foreign. 

“What did you see?” Dick asked hesitantly. 

“All of you. Disappointed in me.”

“Oh kid.” Tim looked at you with sad eyes. “We would never be disappointed in you. We love you so, so much. And we couldn’t be prouder of you.”

“But I fell for his trap. I-”

“Uh Uh. You did what you thought was right. How were you supposed to know?”

Again, you just shrugged. 

“We’re proud of you, little wing. So proud.”

🕸 ⋆ ⁶𖤐⁶ ࣪⋆🕸

<- DAY 19 ⛤ DAY 21 ->

Taglist:

@senjoritanana

@deans-spinster-witch

@amaryllis23

[necrotic-nephilim]

for the ask game

tim creates a clone of kon, but this is dicktim tim has to carry the fetus or breastfeed it, but dick suddenly gets a mommy kink and immediately falls in love

for the ask game!

DICKTIM MOMMY KINK. how did you know i have such a thing for just about any Batcest ship where the other person calls Tim mommy. i don't even know why i just think that shit is so fun.

it'd have to be Omegaverse for me, that's the only scenario i personally could write m-preg. i like the thought of no one knowing that Tim has gone on this crusade. and after 99 failures, Tim's so desperate and angry he tries in vitro fertilization. the first few times it doesn't work so he doesn't take it too seriously, at this point it's just a compulsion. he gets to a point he stops taking the pregnancy tests. so when about a month later, he's experiencing morning sickness and he's missed his heat, Tim has an 'oh, shit.' moment. and well. telling Dick first is his *natural* answer. (i think he'd also go to Steph, but in canon she'd be "dead" at this point) Tim doesn't know what to do, he didn't think he'd get this far. Dick is comforting and grounding, agreeing to help Tim hide this the best he can. Tim has to time it right, fake a bad injury so it makes sense he's benched and wearing baggy sweaters for a few months.

it's platonic at first. Dick is an alpha but his bond with Tim is more of a pack bond and he's just trying to help Tim through this awkward situation he got himself into. (and not laugh at him too much in the process bc well. only Tim. only Tim could manage this.) the pregnancy hormones have Tim all over the place. he's seeking comfort and Dick is trying to keep it platonic and professional, even when he's cuddling Tim or bringing him weird cravings at 2 am. the trust in Dick and Tim's bond makes Dick Tim's only real support system. (also just bc the Titans were a goddamn mess in this era) maybe at some point they tell Bruce the truth but Bruce is dealing with Jason so. bigger fish. it forces them closer as Dick is the only one who can help Tim with the awkward sides of pregnancy. Dick is basically living with Tim and because Tim can't satiate the itch to be in the field (he's tried sneaking out, it earned him a lecture from Dick and a warning that Dick would handcuff him to the radiator if Tim tried that again) so Tim runs comms. for anyone who asks, but mostly for Dick, to the point he's in Dick's ear even when Dick doesn't need the backup, just to keep each other company.

i think, as the pregnancy went on and Tim's chest started to fill out and his hips are bigger, that's when Dick's feeling shift. one second Tim is just his pack, the next Tim is suddenly a very pretty, very vulnerable omega that's Dick is protecting and his wires get all kinds of crossed about it. he starts dousing himself in scent blockers so Tim doesn't notice the change, can't smell how much Dick wants him. which makes Tim annoyed because Dick's scent has been a consistent calming factor keeping the worst of his hormones in check. it'd lead to an awkward fight where Dick is dancing around the truth and Tim just wants to bite him out of anger. finally, Dick admits it and. Tim kind of bluescreens bc sure he's had a crush on Dick for years, but it's sort of like your celebrity crush calling you up and asking for a date. it makes no sense and he can't wrap his head around it. he almost thinks Dick is making fun of him, because Tim is super self-conscious about the pregnancy and mortified he put himself in this situation. it takes a lot of reassurance and a long conversation, but. well, they do end up having sex.

Dick doesn't *mean* to call Tim mommy the first time. he knows Tim hates being emasculated as an omega, and knows Tim is vulnerable about being pregnant. their sex is gentle, no matter how much Tim insists he can take it because Dick doesn't want to hurt the baby, or Tim. it's when Tim finally huffs with annoyance and flips them over -reminding Dick that Tim is still trained and deadly, even like this- to take control and actually get the rough sex he needs right now, when it slips out. there's something just very pretty about Tim taking control and taking what he needs from Dick, but still being whiny and squirmy on top of him. so the first time Dick calls him mommy is an accident and they're *both* startled by just how much they like it. their sex life goes from soft and caring to *very* interesting overnight, where Dick doesn't hide how much he likes Tim's chest. and well. breastfeeding kink. for completely scientific reasons, of course. just to help the milk flow and make sure Tim's body is adjusting well. definitely not bc of the noises Tim makes when Dick does it no sir.

when Tim finally has the clone baby, they're both smitten with this tiny clone. i think they'd end up mating and either say it's Dick's baby or they adopted it. (the lie only works short term bc well, sooner or later that baby's going to start lifting trucks. not to mention Kon does come back to life and is perturbed by how much Tim's kid looks like him.) it's a very cute, fluffy happily ever after sort of deal, with plenty of mommy kink. i think Tim would be huffy and annoyed at how long he'd have to wait for sex bc in my mind, Tim uses sex as a stress relief and is very annoyed when he's deprived of it so, they'd find creative ways around it.

[mayflora-18]

Incorrect CoD Quotes #10

Sherlock: Sarge, I am way too sleep-deprived to deal with your negativity right now.

Gaz: -_-

---

Soap: We gotta get to the hospital and we gotta get there fast.

Ghost: Then, I should drive.

Soap: Why you?

Ghost: I've got nothing to live for and I drive like it.

Soap: Okay, let's do it.

[Later]

Ghost and Soap in the car: AAAAAAHHHH!!!

---

Sherlock: What if…

*Sherlock frowns in concentration*

Roach: Ooh, Sherlock's wheels are turning. Your brain baby is crowning.

Gaz:: Roach, please, that's disgusting.

Sherlock: No, it's helping, I am having a brain baby.

Gaz: Then push, babe, push.

Roach: *lets out deep breaths* Breathe.

Gaz: You can do this, you are so strong.

Sherlock: I got it!

---

Price: Quick, you're losing a lot of blood! What's your type?

Nikolai: Smart, brunette, British, you-

Price: Your blood type, Nik.

Nikolai: Oh! Red.

---

Nikolai: Sherlock is taking the day off so I'm gonna light something on fire.

Laswell: ...Why?

Nikolai: She's like 80% of my impulse control.

---

Price: Naw, bitch. I'm not being petty.

Gaz: You just said, "naw, bitch."

---

Roach: Okay, here are the ground rules: you can punch me, kick me, pull my hair. I am a-okay being stabbed. Biting and scratching are ON the table. You CAN use fire.

Soap: 😰 These are the ground rules? Is there anything off limits?

Sherlock and Gaz: 🤨🤨

Roach: Damn, man. You got something really sick you wanna do, huh?

Soap: What- Uh-

Roach: Oh, you little pervert. Alright, I like it. Don’t tell me. Surprise me. Ooh, this is gonna be fun!

Ghost: 🤦‍♂️

———

Sherlock: Did you just eat all of the powdered donuts?

Nikolai: …No.

Sherlock: Дядя, I can see the powder on your pants.

Nikolai, brushing off his pants: That’s cocaine.

(Дядя = Uncle in Russian)

———

*Sherlock’s phone rings*

Sherlock: Sherlock’s authentic stolen military police badges. How can I help?

Gaz: Hey, it’s Garrick.

Sherlock: Oh, hey Kyle.

Gaz: Hey, do you carry a hairdryer in your purse?

Sherlock: Of course, I’m not an animal.

Gaz, on the other end: Told you! You owe me 20!

Farah: …

———

*Graves escapes from the 141*

Price: This isn’t over! I will hunt you to the ends of the Earth!

Graves: I love you, too! 😘

———

Ghost: All right, you’re clearly not listening to me. I can say whatever I want.

Price, paying attention to something else: Tell me about it.

Ghost: I murdered Johnny this weekend.

Price: I feel you.

Ghost: Now that I have the taste for blood, I can’t stop murdering.

Price: Been there.

———

Gaz: Well, remember when you told me not to burn down the base?

Price: You burned down the base?

Gaz: No! I had the fire put out immediately. This is a success story.

Price: …

———

Alejandro: I need some 141 drama, stat!

Ghost: I don’t think we’re that dramatic.

Alejandro: We’ve been gone for one week. Gaz and Sherlock are dating, and they’ve killed a person.

———

Sherlock: This is where we came the night that I won our bet and you fell in love with me.

Gaz: Sherlock.

Sherlock: The night that you flirted with me for 20 seconds and I became obsessed with you forever.

———

*preparing to infiltrate on a mission with Ghost zip lining through a window*

Soap, over the comms: Is the equipment secure?

Ghost: Check.

Soap: Weapon loaded?

Ghost: Check.

Soap: Did you have breakfast?

Ghost: What? That’s not on the checklist!

Soap: I added it because I care about you.

Ghost: No, I did not have breakfast.

Soap: Unacceptable! Look in your pocket.

*Ghost fumbles through his pockets until he finds a granola bar and unwraps it*

Ghost: Hey, there’s little chocolate chips in this.

Soap: Yeah, I’m not an idiot, I know how to trick my best friend into eating his fiber.

———

I’m posting again! 🥳 Still working on the other fact drop, but I will post it ASAP. On a different note…

🎵Tomorrow, tomorrow! I’m 21, tomorrow! It’s only a day away!!! 🎵

[dyns33]

Simple

A soulmate Poe Dameron x female reader, because why not ? 

Yet it was simple.

Your soulmate would say the phrase you've had on your arm since birth, the first thing you'll hear from them, and in return you'll respond with the phrase they've had on their arm since birth, the first thing they'll hear from you.

The galaxy being vast, it was not so easy to meet your soulmate, but apart from this space problem, the rule was not complicated.

Y/N had always dreamed of meeting her soulmate. Her sentence was original enough for her to be sure to be in front of the right person when the moment came.

"Let's go, baby, guide me through the stars."

Well, she couldn't really guess in what context her soulmate was going to say this sentence, but she was eager for it to happen, imagining what she was going to answer in return.

It was absolutely not for that that she had engaged in the resistance, nor that she had decided to be in the communications team, which guided the pilots.

To tell the truth, she hadn't even made the connection.

Y/N had joined, because it was the right thing to do, because the Empire had to be fought. And she had ended up in comms, not by choice, but because despite her piloting skills and her desire for justice, she was unable to fire on other ships. It was probably cowardly and selfish, but she didn't want to kill anyone directly. 

Hiding in her little station, she was helping others do it, and she was pretty good at it.

This was probably why she was appointed to support Black Leader during a very important mission.

Black Leader. Poe Dameron. Best pilot of the resistance. The one all men spoke of with admiration, and all women dreamed of at night.

Not Y/N. 

She had never seen him, she had never had the opportunity to talk to him, and while she admitted that the stories she had heard about him were incredible, they were just stories. It was good that he was helping the resistance, but he wasn't the only one.

While she was concentrating after being teased for a long time by the other communication girls who was a little jealous, Y/N suddenly heard a sweet voice in her ears, which made her freeze.

     "Let's go, baby, guide me through the stars."

This moment, she had waited all her life. Really. The most important moment of an existence, which awaited a precise answer.

Hers was to be unable to speak. Paralyzed in her seat, she stared at her screen, staring at the glowing dot that represented Black Leader.

     "Hey oh ? A-8, you copy ?" Poe Dameron asked, both worried and irritated by the lack of response.

It would have been a good time to say something. A second chance. Instead, Y/N took off her helmet, jumped out of her seat, and ran to G-4 to beg her to switch pilots. G-4 was surprised, but too happy to assist Dameron, asked no questions and complied.

The mission was a success, even though Y/N was not at her post, and she was not really concentrated during the following hours.

Why hadn't she said anything ? It was stupid, but finding out that the resistance's best pilot was her soulmate had come as a shock. She didn't know how to react at all.

Poe Dameron had a reputation, in addition to knowing how to fly. Many said he wasn't looking for his soulmate at all, just wanting to have fun.

You shouldn't listen to the stories, but Y/N wondered if it was true. And even if that was wrong, she didn't think he'd be happy to be with a coward who was hiding in comms and not really doing anything to get the win.

She thought she would have time to think, to find a moment to gather courage and talk to him, but as soon as the pilots returned, Black Leader went to the communications room.

Y/N didn't know right away that it was him, since she had never seen him. She only saw a man, tall, quite handsome, dressed in pilots' clothes, followed by a small droid, and visibly furious.

It was the reaction of the other girls, and his voice, that gave her his identity

     "Where's A-8 ?"

Again, she froze, feeling very small in her seat. Quickly, she looked at G-4, who didn't move, then F-7, who felt the panic in her eyes. The comms girls were in solidarity. So F-7 sighed before raising her hand.

     "Yes, Black Leader ?"

     "Why the radio silence ? Why the change of guide ? I could have had problems, and my guys too. You don't change guides in the middle of a mission, never !"

     "Sorry, Black Leader. I felt ill, and I didn't want to jeopardize the mission by misguiding you. But as soon as I saw everything was fine, I took another post."

     "Hmm..." Dameron mumbled, not sounding convinced. "Okay, for this time, but let it be the only one. Did you all hear ?"

     "Yes, Black Leader !" replied all the girls. All, except Y/N.

This time there were questions. No one understood A-8's attitude, even though it could be intimidating to talk to Poe Dameron.

Those who had had this honor before said that he was quite nice, funny, loving to flirt, doing everything for them to have a good time together. It was okay to be shy, but she really had to not do that again.

A good moment. Funnt. Y/N felt bad.

With each of the following missions, Y/N begged F-7 again to take her place. And F-7, even though she found it strange and childish, agreed. It was truly an honor to guide Black Leader. She even had fun flirting with him and bragging about it to others.

This will be several weeks, during which Y/N began to regain her composure, trying to accept the situation and repeating to herself that it is not serious. At least she had met her soulmate, and she could move on.

While she was going to the canteen, a small droid bumped into her legs, before circling her beeping. Y/N spoke a little binary, so she understood that the rascal was trying to escape maintenance.

     "You do not have to be afraid." she said gently, kneeling in front of him to pat his head. "It's important to make sure you're okay, for yourself and for others. Are you a pilot's droid ? More importantly, they..."

     "BB8 ? BB8, where are you ?!"

This voice. Y/N froze, before slowly turning her head towards Poe Dameron who was coming towards her, staring at the droid. His droid.

     "There you are ! Hey, don't hide behind the girl, no ! BB, that's bad. Excuse him, he hates check-ups, that little monster. Yes, you're a little monster. You... I am as nice as that girl, you can't stay with her."

Y/N said nothing, unable to answer. Black Leader seemed to sense her embarrassment.

     "You're in communications, aren't you ?" he asked with a charming smile. "I recognize the uniform. We may have flown together before ? I often have A-8 at the moment, she's not bad. I had heard a lot of good things about her, but I'm a little disappointed. Our first time together... She wasn't very professional."

Y/N still said nothing.

     "I mean, she's fine. I understand that the mission was stressful. And even if it's stupid, it's stressful to guide me. But we have a job to do, and we have to do it, seriously. She is really not  serious. I should change my comm, I think. I will ask the general. Would you guide me ?"

The only response Y/N could give was a nod, before fleeing, leaving the pilot and his droid in the middle of the corridor, intrigued.

After that, it was announced that Black Leader was asking for a change of comm. Then another. Then another. He seemed to want to talk to all the girls in the communications department at least once. Absolutely all of them.

And when it was impossible for Y/N to switch places with anyone again, she panicked. Her first solution was to say she was sick, too bad. But she couldn't stay sick forever. So she went to talk to General Organa.

     "You want to change assignments ?"

     "Yes, General. Originally, I was supposed to be a pilot, and although communication is important, I think I could help in mechanics, or elsewhere."

     "Hmm. And that has nothing to do with a certain pilot you've been avoiding for a month ?"

     "I... I don't know what you mean ?"

     "No ? He told me about your little chase. He thought it was funny at first, but now he doesn't understand your attitude. He wonders if he did something wrong, A-8."

He knew. From the start, he knew. Oh, not that they were soulmates, but that she had been avoiding him for weeks.

     "If Black Leader did something, tell me." said General Organa calmly.

     "He... He said my sentence."

"Ah. I see. And you didn't answer, because ?"

     "... He's Black Leader. The best pilot in the resistance... who isn't looking for anything serious."

     "I've heard the rumours. Dameron likes to have fun, it's true. He loves to talk, laugh, and flirt. But the rest of it, if you ask him, it's just baseless gossip. It's a romantic idiot. He's looking forward to his soulmate, though he's too proud to admit it. I think he's waited long enough, right ? Unless you really want to change assignments, I won't oppose it."

Y/N hesitated. After all that had happened, he might be angry. He would probably be disappointed. But he had a right to know, so she accepted the next mission with Black Leader.

Sitting at her post, she took a deep breath before turning on the comms.

     "A-8, glad you're back with us after your illness, hope you're feeling better." Dameron sneered into her helmet.

     "... Thank you, I'm like BB, I don't really like check ups."

There was a silence. A long silence. She had spoken without thinking, not wondering if that would be the right sentence, only finding that it was the right thing to answer.

Beeps were heard, and a growl.

     "Yeah, I know BB, I got it. A-8, I need to focus, but can we meet when I get back ? Please ?"

Poe Dameron was not known for saying 'please'. Y/N couldn't say no to him. They were very professional during the rest of the mission, not talking at all about what had happened. And when the pilots returned, Y/N was standing in the hangar.

Seeing her, Black Leader jumped out of his cockpit without waiting to come quickly towards her. It was impossible to tell what he was thinking, his face totally impassive.

     "First question, your name."

     "Oh. Y/N."

     "Great. Poe, delighted. Second question, are we what I think we are ?" he asked, standing in front of her.

     "... I think so."

     "Okay. Third question, why ? Why the radio silence ?"

     "I… I was surprised. And then… I thought you'd be disappointed. People say you're not looking for anything serious."

     "People are stupid and don't know me at all, just the guy on the propaganda posters. Besides, I think you're cute, and I've heard a lot of good things about your work. Knowing that, would you have responded ?"

     "... Yes, I can imagine ?"

     "So I'm not rejected ?"

     "What ? No ! Not at all ! I thought… I thought you were going to reject me.”

     "Okay." Poe said simply before kissing her without waiting, in front of everyone.

Some cheered, others were a bit jealous, while the comms girls finally understood their colleague's attitude. Of course, the best pilot and the best guide were made to be together. Two idiots.

     "Beep beep !"

     "What ?" Poe muttered, watching his droid push him again and again, getting between him and Y/N. "No, I... How come it's my turn for maintenance ? What are you talking about ?"

     "I haven't really had maintenance." Y/N whispered. "I lied, BB."

     "Beep beep !"

     "It hurts Y/N, very badly. My heart is bleeding. Me, who spent almost all my free time at the nurse to find someone who didn't like check-ups, I feel stupid."

     "Beep !"

     "Thanks, BB. We'll check up together if you want."

     "Beep beep."

     "I speak some binary, what we do or don't do together is nobody's business." Y/N said trying not to be embarrassed by the language used by droid.

     "Excuse him, I told you, he's a little monster. I raised him better than that though."

This made her laugh, relaxing the atmosphere completely, even if BB8 had already somewhat succeeded in helping the two ridiculous humans to stop their stupidity. Even if the kiss wasn't completely nonsense, just Poe who was going a little too fast.

Y/N's laugh made her soulmate smile, who seemed as relieved as her by the situation. All was well, all was perfectly well, simple, a pilot and his comm, soulmates, who fought for peace.

[multi-fandom-agereg]

hiiii i forgot if i actually sent the request or not but could you write some cg headcannons for alucard(hellsing)? hes a father figure to me and theres like nothing of him ever 😭

🦇 « Caregiver » Alucard HEADCANONS 🦇

🌙 : hey anon! You did send this request before, and since I've been extremely busy I didn't get a chance to get to the request. So as extra- please take this drawing I made above! ↑↑↑ I hope you enjoy, I had fun writing this^^

ALUCARD as a Caregiver ! 🧛 . . .

🌙 | Alucard being a overprotective caregiver is an understatement. Alucard lived for centuries, and knows how cruel and harsh the world really was. And him being put in a scenerio where he taking care of a little one, he will protect them with his life. It doesn't matter how old, or how young his little one is. He will ensure that STRICT protection is put on them. Very specific people are able to babysit them if he's on a mission or away. But even that, he would have to know the person very well before he trusts them to watch over you. The only person who is able to do that is Integra so far.

🌙 | oh yeah, speaking of being overprotective: he will do anything to protect his little. And I mean anything. He will fight, threaten, eliminate and more if it meant his little was safe. Nobody who puts their hands on his little gets away without suffering intense and unbearable consequences first. He goes in father mode immediately and you know what they say, "a father's love is a shield that will always protect his children, no matter the cost."

🌙 | when it comes to things like petnames/nicknames he is open to them as a suggestion. You can call him anything you'd like, and he'd call you anything you'd like to be called (if anything, of course) not a fan of petnames? That's a-okay with him. While he loves all/any petnames, he favors the fatherly themed ones. Ex; dad/dada/daddy/papa/etc!

🌙 | people think Alucard has a hand holding addiction. He can't keep his hand off yours. He's always holding yours in some shape or form. Walking down the hallway in the Hellsing Organization? Holding your hand. Out in public? Holding your hand. Somehow your hand will always end up in his one way or another

🌙 | Alucard may be the most stern, and scary looking man ever- but whenever he's around you however, he's a literal puppy. Always following your around like a pup, nervous that you'll end up hurting yourself by accident. Oh, and y'know his dog form? If you're comfortable around that form he'd obviously use it to his advantage. He'd be the best guard dog in the world! Also if you are a fan of dogs, he'd let you get touchy with him. You can pet him, rub his ears, hold his tail and more.

🌙 | treats you like royalty. You can even say he is the master of spoiling you. Anything you want, he gives you. Wether that being gear, clothes, toys and stuffies, etc. although he loves to spoil you as much as he can, he can also be stern too. he will spoil you, but he won't spoil you too much. Enough to make you happy, but not enough to make Alucard spend himself broke

🌙 | master of playing pretend. If you are a huge fan of playing pretend, he's your guy to play with! He makes sure to play fairly, and will play pretend with you for hours until the game ends or you get tired.

🌙 | he managed to convince Sir Integra to use a empty room in the Hellsing Organization and turn it into a room that is solely fitted for your little age! (Or a room designed with things you like) this room has many many things! Posters of things you like, the wallpaper is your favorite color, there's a TV, toy boxes, a bed and more. He made sure you can never get bored in there.

--

~Art Comms are open:] ~

[chussyracing]

the frequent bathroom breaks....

oh those details. ok, i will put it below the cut and you open on your own risk, because it's concerning all drivers and it's not just fun and games (yes he was also serious for once)

so. it all started with charles asking for a bathroom break during one free practice session (or was it quali?) during japanese gp last year. that's not an unusual occurence for him, which the comms of course were well aware of (as well as fans apparently) and they decided to comment on it and add a personal perspective.

so besides 1. having a normal weak bladder 2. drinking lots of fluids and 3. literally trying to get lighter (these f1 drivers smh) according to Pepa Král (Ferrari driver in GT3, commentator and racing mentor and as he started his monologue about Charles' reproductive organs, also a "father of 2 beautiful healthy girls") the way Charles often visits a bathroom can also have a different reason.

the position of a driver in f1 car's cockpit is just about following (my pic from the f1 exhibition in vienna):

across their shoulders, there go two straps of the seatbelt leading to their crotch where they get additional two straps to hold them on both sides of their thighs (as far as i know they are 6 points seatbelts now but it varied from 5 to 7). according to the comm, it can get rather uncomfy for some drivers as the harness on both sides of their jewels squeezes and releases repeatedly: especially when coming into a turn, when stepping on the pedals (to be fair he specifically mentioned braking pedal) or when your car is porpoising (then he went on a little rant about his prostate as well but please don't force me to recollect that info). apparently the worst feeling of need comes with that feeling of the straps releasing you for a second and with the repeated motion of squeeze and release. the bigger you are the worse this affects you - or so he claims but there was a joke that... he wouldn't know how it feels for the guys on the bigger side so yeah 😬

there was short mention of the heat inside the cockpit and closeness to the engine as the hot part of the car and how it's linked to male fertility (which doesn't concern him as he gladly pointed out at the start) which again, i'd rather not get into <3

TLDR: he is too big to be comfy in the harness and the car is trying to milk him when driving