#but it was just said by the climbing comm

[sportsallover]

"Purple-kissed clouds in the background"

This is so sweet 🥹

[unexpectedbrickattack]

.

[grimdarling69]

Another Dan and ellie deaged p2

Dick wasn't unaccustomed to getting calls at five a.m., but he wished it had happened less. He reached his hand out from the haphazardly placed blanket and fumbled for his ringing phone. Finally finding it, he quickly answered to the call. I swear if this is an arkham breakout, it better be the goddamn joker. He will be very upset if Tim just calls him in for condiment king.

"Hello?" He says sleepily. He winces and rubs his eyes away from the bright light of the phone.

"Dick. I need your help, Damian got spooked somehow and ran away. I'm pursuing him but i can't get him to stop."

His heart drops. Immediately awake, he jumps up from the bed and tries to find the suit pieces he threw around when he crashed last night.

"What happened?" I found myself asking, hoping this was just a misunderstanding. "I don't really know. We were down in the cave, and I guess he knocked a tool off and woke me up. I asked him what he was doing, but he didn't answer me and just ran to the bikes."

He could hear the slight panic in Tim's voice. "I'll call him."Wait -" I hang up.

I quickly dialed Babs number. If Damian left as fast as tim says he did, he probably didn't have his phone. I glance at the windows, one of my gloves is placed on the seal. Rain is still coming down hard. Thunder rumbling distantly.

"This better be goddamn joker." Me and Babs always thinking the same thing, I think fondly.

"Damian ran away, and I need you to connect me to his comms."On it now. I'm calling in the others just in case."

A click is heard, and I can hear slight wind and heavy breathing through my own comms. I hang up the call.

"Dami?" I ask hesitantly. His baby brother son was out there alone in the rain.

I hear a sharp intake of breath, but he doesn't speak. I quickly throw open the windows after grabbing my last glove. Skillfully and methodically climbing down. Throwing myself on my bike. Come on, Dami, answer me.

"Whatever is going on, you can tell me, okay? I'll help you no matter what. I promise." He meant every word.

The bike starts, and I race down the streets in chase of the tracker. I just need to make it to Gotham in time.

__________

Bruce was no stranger from his kids running away. They'd all done it at least once. It never got any better whether they were running from him or others didn't change it. He just had to remember they always came back.

Alfred watches off to the side. Making sure if i start to go down, he could catch me. I won't. A few broken ribs and a sprained ankle won't stop me. He had gotten the call in his bedroom. Alfred had finally wrangled him into sleeping when the call came through.

"Bruce. Damian fled the nest. Dick and Tim are in pursuit, but i don't think he's stopping anytime soon." Her tone heavy but focused.

He had quickly made his way down to the cave. Alfred had stopped momentarily to wake up his other son. He would be down soon.

I start to make my way to my suit, but I'm quickly thwarted.

"Master Bruce. You will be no help with might i remind you of five broken ribs, a sprained ankle, and a stab wound." Alfred told him stepping in front.

"My son is out there. i need to find him."he said with a deep voice heavy with memories. He knew Alfred was right he would only be a hindrance. He could walk off his injuries they were barely flesh wounds, but he wasn't good with emotions. He had plenty of arguments with his kids about it before. Whatever scared Damian into running, he couldn't help him.

Duke's footsteps sounded out behind him. He walked past, gancing at him concerned but determination on his face. He turned around and limped back to the batcomputer. He just had to trust his sons to bring their brother home.

‐---------

Jason was no stranger to long nights. He hadn't even made it to his safe house anyway, too busy with the storm, making sure all the alley kids had a warm and dry place to sleep for the night.

Stormy nights were the worst for alley kids. He hated them when he ws on the streets. The cold rain freezing your clothes to you, the cold rain soaking your shelters, the cold rain ruining any halfway edible food. He's seen a lot of kids get sick from the rain and die. If you were sick, you had to hide. If others found out you were sick, they'd leave you in a heartbeat. It caused a lot of fights with Bruce in the early days. He hid his injuries or sick days in case Bruce finally saw how weak he was and threw him out.

"Damian fled the nest. The rest of the batboys are already heading out after him." Oracle spoke into his comms.

The Batboys. What O had recently started calling Dickhead, Timbo, Duke, Demon brat and him ever since the batgirls left to Hong Kong together.

Demon brat, his obligation in the league. When he left, he'd assumed he'd never see him again, or if he did, it'd be from opposite sides. Sometimes, it felt a lot like opposite sides regardless.

Jason revved up his bike again he was mostly done with his people anyway. He would have to have some of his trustworthy men on the lookout for stragglers.

He pulled up his tracker to Damian. He winded through the streets following it.

---------

Crack

Thunder sounded out. Dick had hated the rain ever since... He just hated it. It was worse, so with Dami out there all alone. He didn't even know what had scared him enough to run. Damian would never run just cause what he knocked a tool over? That didn't sound like his brother son. Something else must have happened. He just had to figure out what.

"Nightwing. Report." Bruce growled into the comms suddenly. His throat felt dry. Even if he wanted to, he couldn't speak.

"SHIT!" A crashing sound loud enough to echo on the comms could be heard. Tim, dami, please be alright. He was just now reaching the Gotham border. Just hold on, I think desperately.

"Red Robin, what's happening on your end." Bruce demanded.

"Red Robin is fine. Damian deployed the bike sludge. He had to grapple backward to avoid the sludge. I think his leg is broken."

"Be careful, Signal, one wrong move with your powers, and you could light that right on up." Jason attempted to banter. Jason and his bad habit of deflecting by using humor. Something he's gotten in trouble because of before.

"We are on the warehouse that we busted yesterday with that drug deal across from Gotham Bridge. We lost sight of him." Duke ignored Jason's comment and carried on.

"Damian has stopped near gotham bridge hurry. Cameras aren't looking good."

"Oracle. Report, what do you see?" He can hear Bruce's gravelly voice tinged with desperation. Please don't do what I think you're going to do.

"I think he might jump."

The silence was suffocating.

Click.

Damians comms came back online.

"Damian?" Bruce's voice sounded distorted and echoes to his ears.

"Dami, can you hear me?" He knew he could.

"Yes."

"Master Damian, please come home." Alfred didn't beg, but he swore he could hear it in his voice.

"We can help you. Damian, don't do whatever you're planning. Please." Jason's voice was desperate.

" Please, Damian, listen to us. Let us help you."he was begging at this point, but he couldn't care less.

"I'm sorry Richard, but I don't think you can."

Click.

Crack

Lightning broke the illusion of quiet peace. The rain thundering just as loud against the ground.

-------

Jason drove as fast as he could, but by the time he and dick made it, the bike was the only thing left of his brother.

"Damian!" Dick tried jump off after him. "Dick! Stop!" "Let me go! I have to save him. Please..." His voice was thick and course. His brother's mask was starting to peel from the wetness.

"I know. I know..." He collapsed to the ground, taking his brother with him.

The headlight flickered ominously in the heavy rain.

[incorrectbatfam]

Damian being a gen alpha implies in gen alpha Jon too ...

[at a sleepover]

Damian, whispering: Jon?

Jon: Yeah?

Damian: Our planet is doomed.

Jon: Yeah, it is.

Jon: Wanna sneak downstairs for snacks?

Damian: Sure.

———————

Steph, as a Batburger cashier: Sorry ma'am, that product was discontinued months ago.

Jon: *secretly starts recording*

Margie: You didn't even bother to check! What kind of lazy service is this? No wonder the world is the way it is with your generation. I should call the corporate hotline right now and report you for refusing to serve a paying customer. See how you like it when you lose your job.

Damian: Hey Karen, she said they don't have it anymore. Either get something else or leave. Some of us have places to be.

Margie: And who do you think you are?

Damian, pointing to Jon's camera: The best friend of someone with 150,000 followers.

Jon: Say hi to the internet!

———————

Damian and Jon: *putting up hand-drawn posters around town*

Comm. Gordon: What are you kids doing?

Damian: Advertising our joint channel.

Jon: We're gonna have an epic Cheese Viking and Fortnite mashup tournament.

Damian: Proceeds go to the Wayne Foundation.

Comm. Gordon: *scribbles a note and hands it to them*

Comm. Gordon: If anyone asks you for a permit, it's on me.

———————

Damian and Jon: *huddled around the Batcomputer*

Jon: I think we should sort it by distance instead.

Damian, typing code: Good idea.

Barbara: What's that?

Jon: Our new website.

Damian: It allows people to report stray animals they see without the risk that comes with physical contact.

Barbara: Oh, cool. Carry on.

———————

Kara: What do you want to drink?

Jon: Mountain Dew. Dami, you want one?

Damian: Depends. Is it vegan?

Kara: *starts typing into Google*

Jon: Hey Alexa, is Mountain Dew vegan?

———————

[texting]

Jon: Dami, get on Discord.

Damian: Why?

Jon: Live-action One Piece streaming in the Gay Minecraft server.

———————

Jon: Ms. Kyle, check it out!

Selina: What is it?

Damian: TikTok added a set of Catwoman stickers.

Selina: Show me.

———————

Kate: I still think you are far too young for things like Instagram.

Damian and Jon: *snicker*

Kate: What?

Jon: Well, Ms. Kane, how should we put it...

Damian: No one uses Instagram anymore.

———————

Jon: *takes a 0.5 of him and Damian with Dick in the background*

Damian: You're in our BeReal now. Deal with it.

Dick: What's a BeReal?

———————

Damian, handing Jon a rock: I would like to buy this playhouse.

Jon: Too bad, the economy just disappeared.

Lois: What are you doing?

Jon: We're playing Society.

———————

Damian: Alfred, we're hungry.

Alfred, on the phone: *makes the thumb and pinky gesture and mouths "I'm busy"*

Jon: Huh?

Alfred: I'm on the phone, boys.

Damian: I think he meant this.

Damian: *puts his palm to his ear*

———————

Jon: Parkour!

Jon: *hops over a log*

Jon: Parkour!

Jon: *climbs a tree*

Damian: *recording*

Clark, to Bruce: That's one way to play.

Bruce: Mhm.

Clark: Do you ever get worried about, you know, how these kids are turning out?

Jon: Parkou—

Damian: Wait, stop, there's a bird's egg here. I wonder what species it is.

Jon: I have an app that can scan it.

Bruce, to Clark: I think they're gonna be alright.

[sweetimpurity]

Sometimes I have ideas for fics but not enough will-power to write the whole thing out all the way. This is one condensed haha ⬇️

not proofread 🥴

Earth-928

You're out to dinner with your bf Miguel. It's been such a nice night and you've been together so long. You think tonight is the night. He's gonna propose. His job as Spiderman does take him away from you a lot of the time. You tend to spend a lot of time missing him. Wishing he'd make more time for you. Make you his priority. That's the only doubt you'd have when it comes to spending your life with the man but other than that, you know you want it.

He took you for a walk on the beach, then to your favorite restaurant to end the night. You've just ordered your food when his comm watch get's a notification. A red alert emergency. Green Goblin in downtown Manhattan tearing up half a city block and blowing things up. Scaring civilians, injuring many.

"Babe... I'm so sorry... I think I have to go." He says, a growing sense of dread washing over him. And then he looks up to see that look of disappointment in your eyes. The heartbreak.

"You... are you sure, really?" Your voice breaks his heart. He sighs, looking down at the alerts coming in from Lyla. One after the other.

"I'm so sorry... I promise I'll be back as soon as I can..." He says, getting up from the table and kneeling in front of you, taking your hands into his. It breaks your heart even more watching him do that. Seeing him kneel. Except he's not proposing, he's leaving.

"You'll be my number one babe... when I get back I promise..." He says. But the words just make you feel so empty. "I promise... I love you. Wait up for me." He says, letting your hands go and stepping back. Sending an alert to Lyla that he's on the case and he's coming. "I love you babe..." He says again, stepping back and watching you. Wanting to hear you say it back. But you don't. You just watch him go. Heartbroken. Feeling so small, so unimportant. Unwanted.

He eventually has to just let it go and turn to leave. Passing by some people in the restaurant and leaving the restaurant. Trying his best to just keep going. To get this done and then he can be with you. But this has become a pattern as of late.

He gets outside the restaurant, getting to an alleyway and scaling the building, climbing to the top and pressing on the pod to make his suit expand and cover his body. Nanotech glowing up to his jawline and eventually closing over his face in fire red and dark blue.

He swings off to tend to the issue. To stop whatever's going on. Save the city. Again.

You wait for him for an hour. Sitting there like an idiot. Like a fool. Before deciding you deserve better than this. You ask the waiter to pack up the food and pay the bill. Three years you've been with this man. And this sort of thing just happens?

You grab your stuff, getting up to leave. Figuring you'll just go home and eat that ice cream in the freezer. Maybe call your mom or your best friend and get some reassurance or cry. Passing by people leaving the restaurant, you leave the building, walking down the sidewalk a few yards before-

"Baby!" He calls. The familiar sounds of a portal opening accompanying his voice. You look over and there's Miguel walking up to you from the alleyway next to the restaurant. Oh. You think. Here he is? "Hey-"

"You have to come with me. Right now baby. The anomaly, it's worse than we thought. We have to go, this dimension is gonna go!" He explains frantically, his voice slightly muffled by the mask you recognize so well on his face. He comes over, instantly taking both of your hands in his. The cool feeling of his suit on your warm skin. Really? You have to leave now? He said this sort of thing could happen at some point. But the chance was rare because he's always do everything he could before letting the dimension collapse. He's been gone for an hour and now the dimension is suddenly collapsing?

But if he says so, then you'd trust him. "Come on baby. We'll be safe you just have to come with me." He starts walking backwards towards the portal, holding onto your hands. It's not your first time going through a portal with him. It's a weird sort of tingly feeling.

"Okay okay" You nod, shocked by this sudden turn of events; walking with him and looking back on the world you know. The dimension you've lived in all your life. The place you've both shared a life in too. But if he'll be with you then everything should be fine.

He leads you through the portal, his big hand on the small of your back as he helps you through to the other side. The portal closing with a flash of glitching light. The alleyway falls silent. Not a sound.

An hour passes. The restaurant closes, everyone goes home. Your boyfriend swings back to the restaurant. Feeling like such a dick for leaving you like that. Leaving you when he too knew that this was supposed to be a special night. He gets to the restaurant. Finding it closed. "Damn it." He sighs. Pacing back and forth. "Lyla, is y/n back at the apartment?" He says. Walking down the sidewalk a bit.

"I can't track her phone right now. She either lost signal or turned the tracker off herself." She says.

"Damn it." He huffs again. Sighing and staring out at the street. His brow furrowing at what's before him. It's the car. His car. The one you both took to the restaurant tonight. Why is it still here if you're not?

"Lyla. What was her last recorded location?" He asks, staring at the car parked on the street. His mind flooded with possibilities. "Right here. Literally right where you're standing." She says, looking over the data.

He looks around. This doesn't make sense. "Track her again." He says.

"I can't-"

"Try again! Try something else! Street cameras! Surveillance footage! Something!" He yells in frustration and anger. Scowling and look around. Lyla sighs, pulling up the footage from the cameras on this street after hacking into their systems. Scrubbing through the footage.

"Let me see." He demands, looking at the holographic screen as Lyla displays it. There you are, leaving the restaurant. He winces, watching you leaving the place in defeat. Knowing this is his fault. But then he watches you stop, looking down the alleyway next to the restaurant. A flash of glitching light and then it looks like you're talking to someone.

You're definitely talking to someone. He check the time on the footage. It was about an hour ago. An hour ago you started talking to someone in the alley and then-

"What is she doing?" He mumbles, eyes widening when he sees you join hands with someone. The person that's taking up all your attention. "Zoom in Lyla." He demands.

The footage isn't super clear, it never is on these cheap street cameras. But he can see it. When the figure turns around, leading you down the alleyway. It's him. Himself? He can see the red and blue marking of his own suit. He's watching a video of himself leading you down an alleyway into what he can only assume is a portal. A portal to lord knows where. With a version of himself that's pretending to be the one you know.

[izzystizzys]

TW: discussion of something approximating suicidal tendencies but with the usual crack programming of this blog

“Ah, High General Windu”, says Fox, pleasantly. “So we meet again.”

High General Windu raises an unimpressed eyebrow at him, Fox thinks, though it’s getting hard to tell with all the blood rushing to his head. “If I let you go, will you try to throw yourself out of another window?”

Fox makes a vague shrugging motion - or tries to, anyways. It’s hard to tell where any of his limbs are going, hanging upside down in the air as he is. “I am willing to discuss terms.” A bridge will do just fine.

Impossibly, the High General’s eyebrows climb even further up his forehead. “A compromise, then, esteemed Commander.” And so, he righths Fox the head way up in the air, but leaves him floating just above the ground, at which point several painted shells come skidding around the corner followed by billowing robes and screeches.

“WHAT”, says Kote, calmly, “THE BANTHA-KARKED, FORCE-LOVING KRIFF, FOX.”

“You’ll short out your helmet mic”, Fox advises him, sagely. Fondly, he thinks back to decimating his own on only his second time in the newly-christened official Coruscant Guard Scream Closet. He’d just received the comm about the Zillo Beast being transported to 000, and made sure to take his bucket off thereafter to improve the quality of his closet time.

High General Windu’s face does something complicated between sympathy and constipation.

Because the Galaxy doesn’t hate Fox enough already and Cody wasn’t enough on his own, Wolffe elbows his way through their batch to plant himself in front of him, shoulders squared and shaking with repressed rage. “If you try that again, dickhead”, he begins, in a low growl that quite frankly sounds more cringe that intimidating, “I’m going to resurrect you and then kill you again.”

“Ah, Wolffe”, Plo Koon says, in his deep, shivery timbre, “Remember our conversations about effective conflict resolution and communication of needs?”

Wolffe’s eyes narrow at Fox, because all non-Guard are sweet summer children who walk around buckets off on 000 like absolute lunatics. Fox prays they never have to find out why that’s a bad idea. “I feel”, his ori’vod presses out between clenched teeth, “that if you make me watch you throw yourself out of another window, I’m going to jump after you and strangle you on the way down, you little bitch.”

“That’s fair”, says Fox, and watches High General Kenobi bury his face in his hands. Wolffe twitches in place and makes an aborted groaning noise, the hypocrite.

“Excuse me, High Marshall Commander Fox, but I fail to see what’s so dire about this situation that the Jedi High Council and your brothers cannot help you solve”, says Windu, the only sane one left on this Force-forsaken bloated corpse of a planet. Behind the gaggle of Jedi and ori’vode already gathered in front of Fox, the rest of them come veering around the corner in a commotion that’s quite frankly embarrassing. High General Yoda is mounted on Skywalker’s back like he’s a race-Eopie, which is Fox’ only consolation.

He got up this morning at 0300, bleary-eyed and with a pounding headache as always, and all was right in the world. And then Fox got called into the Jedi High Council’s chambers and was ceremoniously informed that in the wake of Chancellor Palpatine’s unfortunate demise (hah), and through the emergency state of the Senate, as well as several invented promotions foisted on Fox to make the delegation of any and all paperwork less shady, he was now next in the chain of command and-

Well, Fox is the acting Chancellor, in short.

Haha, he had said, and been meet with several seconds of silence, until it got both awkward and exceedingly painful. Wait, he’d said. You’re kriffing serious.

Kriffing serious, we are, had said High General Yoda, and thus Fox launched himself out the first best window with a maniacal cackle of, you’ll have to catch me first!

And catch him, High General Windu sure did.

“The will of the Force this is”, Yoda interrupts Fox’ train of thought. He scans him thoughtfully from beneath his wizened brow, and hems to himself. “Shake things up, this will. Determine the fate of the Galaxy, this shall. A feeling, I have, that a good Chancellor you will make. A better one, hmmm.”

“That’d be high praise, if not for the fact that a dead lemming would make for a better Chancellor than the last one”, says Fox, drawing and indignant gasp from Skywalker. He doesn’t bother with either that or the green goblin’s cackle, lost in the deep sense of resignation that settles over his shoulders like a suffocating blanket.

“Alright, then, get me Thorn on the comm. As my first act in office, I’m firing all the Jedi. No offense, but you’re kind of a disaster. Then, someone get me to the Chancellor’s office, I’m calling Dooku to let him know the war’s off. And please get me Judicial, they’ll be up all night working on my datafolders - I’m having the Senate arrested.”

“Who - is - arresting - “, Bly pants, hands on his knees from where he’s just come sprinting around the corner with his Jedi.

Underneath his bucket, Fox smiles a smile that’s all teeth. “The Senate”, he says, sweetly, wondering if he’s just imagined the shiver that’s gone through the room. “I’m suing the Senate, and taking them all into temporary custody for abuse of sentient rights.”

[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.

[iguessthisisanewobsession]

It’s a running joke in the manor that Tim’s kid was like a cat

And he would never admit that he could kind of see it himself.

The climbing, the ability to go from zero to a hundred in energy, and unfortunate ability to be too cute to actually get mad at him for anything he does.

Finding said son running out and about when there was breakout was pushing through.

“Hi Dad!!”

“Danny! What are you doing out here?!it’s still lockdown chickadee!”

Danny looked down at the ground and scuffed one of his shoe against the pavement.

“I know… but you’ve been gone so long and I’ve been worried!”

Tim sighed and tapped his comm,

“Oracle, please keep lookout for the next couple minutes.”

And crouched down in front of his son,

“You haven’t been home in a while and I missed you..”

Tim sighed as he wiped a tear from Danny’s face.

It was almost unfortunate how much the kid took after him.

“Kiddo I’m sorry, that’s my fault, I know we haven’t been able to hang out for the past week-“

Danny stomped a foot in frustration,

“No you don’t understand! You forget to sleep when you don’t come home ‘n’ great grandpa Alffie said we got to sleep because it’s good for you ‘n’ that when you don’t you are more likely to get hurt! I don’t want you hurt!”

Tim wanted to argue, and say that he was fine. He’s been taking cat naps between searching and the fights. If it was anyone else in his family he would’ve done so.

But this was his son, his little chickadee who loves so much and worries about himself so little.

He needs to set an precedent before bad habits emerge.

Picking Danny up, Tim set him down onto his hip and stuck his chin on his head.

“You’re right, I guess I haven’t been being nice to myself like I’m supposed to. How about we go back home and I’ll lay down with you for a couple hours?”

Danny peered up with glassy eyes,

“Can you stay for breakfast?”

And didn’t that just hurt to hear? Faded memories of asking that same question only to be given this almost pitying look danced in the back his mind.

“Sorry kiddo, but we just don’t have enough time before our flight but don’t worry when we get back we’ll have a family day, just the three of us!”

Clearing his throat Tim met his son’s eyes.

“Sure champ, and when we finally get joker back in Arkham we can ask everyone to have a family day, how does that sound?”

Stars almost seemed to take over Danny’s eyes as he let out a little gasp.

“Really?!”

“I promise.”

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

Yes, many of Danny’s mannerisms were reminiscent of a cat, but this was new.

Tim pinched his eyebrow in exasperation as he looked at his siblings.

He wished he never got up this morning.

“And how exactly did Danny somehow get a crowbar?”

The kid in question just happily swung his legs as he sat on the bench unaware that he himself was going to be getting a far longer conversation as soon as they got back to the manor.

“To be honest.. in hindsight, not my brightest moment.”

“WHY IN GODS NAME A CROWBAR?!”

“He said he needed something to help take care of the trash! I thought he would use it like a knapsack or something!”

Jason Thew his hands in the air, and Dick let out a snort while he nudged the mess of a clown next to him.

“Well he very much did use it for something.”

“Nightwing! I’m just as mad at you for somehow loosing the kid this badly to begin with!! You. Are. Not. Helping.”

“I know but I’m just saying, he gets his dramaticism from you.”

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

At the end of the day, Joker ended up paralyzed from the neck down.

Jason and Dick were both no longer allowed to babysit Danny alone.

And one little munchkin was, though very much grounded, hailed a hero by all of Gotham for the actions that were live-streamed by onlookers.

And once he was no longer grounded, he did get his family day.

[importantstudentbusinessspy-blog]

Academia - The Gala

Masterlist

Pairing: Aged up Damian Wayne x f reader

Tags: NSFW, academic setting, rivals to lovers, friends with benefits, smut, blowjobs, possessiveness, jealousy, oral, p in v, semi-pibloc sex,

Side note: can y'all tell I've never been to a Gala before? I don't know how they donate in those things. Please bare with me.

The perp screamed as Damian flipped him onto the ground, making sure the way he landed would be impactful enough to knock him out for at least a minute.

"Fuck! You fucking brat!" The perp chocked out.

Squatting next to him, Damian flipped his staff to rest it against his shoulder blades, hanging both his arms on it. "You see the rest of your crew over there?" He nodded in the direction of four bodies lying down on the floor of the warehouse, then looked back at the perp currently struggling to take a breath. "Not big talkers, apparently. But you -" he grabbed the man by his collar and dragged him towards himself, the perp yelped, blood dripping from his nose as he struggled against Damian's unyielding grip. "You might still make it out of here alive." He finished.

The perp eyed his men nervously, stammering. "D-did you kill them?"

Damian ignored the question. "I'm gonna ask you one last time, Markus. Where is Roman's shipment arriving to?"

The man's eyes widened at the correct use of his name, and he began to shake.

Damian registered a new stench, his upper lip lifted in digust as he stared down a Marcus. "You better not have fucking pissed yourself. That's disgusting."

Marcus looked like he was about to cry. Damian would bet they were tears of shame rather than pain. He grasped the collar tighter, sneering. "Where did the shipment leave to, Marc? While I'm still in a good mood."

"Y-you fucking psycho!" Marcus was crying now. "Do you have any idea what he'll do to me if I tell you?"

"It can't be worse than what I'll do to you if you don't." Damian said before punching the crying man in the nose, making sure to crack something. Marcus cried out in pain.

"Talk." Damian prompted.

Bloody lips trembling, Marcus confessed the address.

Damian nodded, sure to memorize the location. "What time is it coming in?" He asked.

Marcus's features twisted pathetically as he slurred, "Come on, man. I already told you-"

"What time is it coming in?" Damian sneered. Hating to have to repeat himself.

"E-eleven-Thirty!" The criminam cried. "Pick up's at midnight."

Damian stood up then, kicking Marcus right in the nose, making sure to knock him out this time.

"Jesus christ, kid." Jason spoke in his ear. "Remind me to play bats this footage if ever gives me shit about how I do interrogations."

"That won't stop me from giving you shit." Batman's voice came on the line.

Withholding a retort about Jason calling him "kid." All Damian said was, "it's not like I killed him."

"Right, no, of course." The red hood laughed in his comm. "You just re-organized the order his face, much more merciful."

"Ugh, been on the receiving end of that." Dick's voice joined the line. "Now look at oir baby boy, all grown up and graduated from scratching to dislocation."

"Aww." Barbara's voice supplied helpfully.

Damian rolled his eyes. "I was dislocating men twice my size back when you were still running around in a leotard."

He was so grateful he got to work on his own suit, with a fabric that wasn't skin fucking tight had at fully covered him in bulletproof Kevlar yet still allowed for a full range of motion. If he were forced to wear the same suit as his eldest brother, Batman would have been his first victim.

"Oooh there are those claws!" Tim now joined the line, along with Stephanie, who supplied the helpful words: "scratchy scratchy" in the background.

Clearly, his family was having a much less fun night that he and were desperate for some entertainment. Ignoring them, Damian climbed up from the warehouse and onto the roof of a neighboring, taller building to get a better vantage point. The wind ruffled his hair as the sounds of gotham: sirens, choppers, and car horns, as well as the waves from the nearby river filled his ears. Inhaling the cool air and exhaling, the fog from his mouth traveling with the wind. He switched onto a different line. "Oracle, I need coordinates to the Conrad docks port hanger number 9."

"Roger that, Robin. Shall I send for back up?"

"No need." He said. "I can't handle this myself."

And he did. Carrying out a perfect stealth mission and stealing a crate of the new drug that Black Mask was trying to push on the city, along with the files that exposed every crooken cop currently on his payroll. The files found their way to commissioner Gordon's coffee table that night. The corrupt cops were behind bars by morning.

■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■

Damian didn't know how to explain, but he was having a particularly good day. That is, until he heard your name being said by one of the guys from your program.

"There she is. What was her name again?"

"Y/n, I think?" The boy, a skinny eng student from your physics class, was talking to his friend.

Damian followed his gaze to you, sitting by yourself in a yellow checkered blazer and skinny jeans, with a neat ponytail tide by a yellow ribbon. You were sitting on one of the benches at the campus atrium, chewing on a cut-up apple as you read something on your computer, the screen illuminating your face.

"I got two tickets for the howling mystery this Thursday. I'm gonna ask her to go with me."

Like hell. Damian's nostrils flared, and he turned to walk in their direction.

Just as his friend replied sardonically. "She doesn't hit me as the type that listens to hard metal -"

"Hey," they both turned at the sound of Damian's voice. The boy who talked about asking you out straightening up. Unimpressed, Damian trampled him in size. "How are you guys doing?" He asked casually.

"Fine, thanks." The friend replied, looking at Damian in disbelief that he was used to by now. "You?"

"Listen, were you guys just in Atkinson's lecture?" He pointed his thumb in the direction of the room behind himself.

The two guys nodded.

"He's in there right now explaining the Pokhozhaev identity problem that was on the midterm." Damian lied.

Their eyes widened. And one of them asked. "Fuck really?"

Damian nodded. "Yeah. If you hurry, maybe you could still catch him."

"Dude, thanks!" One of them clapped him on the back, and Damian offered them one his signature easygoing smiles as they went down the hall and back into the lecture, none the wiser.

He himself made his way to sit beside you, leaning back on the bench. "Hey,"

You looked up at him, eyes widening when you realized it's him. You quickly collected yourself, offering a poline smile. "Damian, hi."

"What are you doing this Thursday?" He asked.

You thought about it for a moment, checked your calendar to see that your midterms were done by Wednesday. "Nothing, why?"

■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■

You looked at yourself in the mirror, assessing the outfit. The dress you wore was a velvet, red form-fitting one that accentuated your silhouette, it reach the top of your knees with an asymmetrical hem that added an edgy touch, showcasing the velvet knee high black boots under it. A deep neckline showed the gold necklace that you never took off, with its matching earrings - gifts from your parents. You let your hair down, framing your face in subtle curls and draping over your shoukders. Your makeup was subtle with a focus on your eyes and red lipstick. The look you were going for was a combination of chic and classy.

A knock on your door caused you to open it, mouth dropping slightly when you did.

Damian Wayne stood at your doorstep wearing a suit. Confident posture and athletic physique. His tailored suit accentuated his broad shoulders and a trim waist. Sharp jawline, high cheekbones, and those green eyes of his sparkled over you with appreciation. You realized why he'd told you to wear red, a well-chosen tie hung from his neck, matching your dress in color.

"Hey, perfect girl," he gave you an appreciative look.

"Oh wow," you let the words out without thinking. Clearing your throat, you offered a shy smile. "You look really nice."

"Thanks," he put his hand in his pocket, eyes roaming your body, and he shook his head. "So do you. Very nice."

He offered you his hand, and you took it, letting him lead you to his Camaro.

"Will you not be drinking?" You asked, seated at the passenger seat.

"I dont drink." He said.

You nodded, thinking that if he wanted to elaborate, he would have. "I read up about that Gala. It's a charity event to raise money for the new wing in the children's hospital, right?"

"Right."

"I'd like to contribute, if that's still allowed." You said.

Damian smirked to himself, a dimple appearing as his perfect teeth came into view. "Do you know how much Wayne Ent. donated, y/n?"

"No," you confessed.

"You're welcome to contribute, but trust me, they're set for at least the next four years. And that's including construction."

"Wow," you couldn't bring yourself to even inagine the amount that entailed. Suddenly, your donation felt like barely anything. Your shoulders slumped slightly, and then you shook it off. "Well, it doesn't matter. I'd still like to."

He turned to give you a look, the meaning of which you couldn't decipher. "Have you ever donated at a gala before?"

You shookyour head.

He offered you his hand, and you took it.

At last, he spoke. "I'll show you how."

■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■

The way he commanded attention in any room with mere silence should be studied, you thought.

His hand brushed your hip, leading you inside the massive banquet hall. You looked around, and massive chandeliers hung from the intricately painted fresco on the ceiling as the velvet carpet was rolled out under expensive shoes. The sound of chatter and clinging glasses was accompanied by classical music. This was an entirely different world than the one you were used to. Still, you looked around in fascination.

"Is that real Chanel?" Damian's question drew you from your thoughts. You turned to see him eyeing your dress.

You tensed. "... no." You looked down, blushing as you were painfully reminded that someone of his stature could tell the difference. Slightly embarrassed, you quietly confessed, "Mainstream brands can make good knock offs when they want to."

He nodded, gaze drifting back over the crowd. As did you, the sea of people in front of you was clad in high brand designer gowns, suits, and perfumes. Granted, your outfit was by no means cheap, and in fact, it took you a day of work to make up for it. But if he could see that your clothes were a high fashion copy, so could everyone here. In your clothes you felt like you didn't belong. For the first time in your life, you felt... cheap.

You just hoped his lack of a reaction meant a lack of judgment. Damian came both from old money and from new money, as the heir to the top weapons mogul in the world, he was used to a certain standard.

Either way, you may not have been rich but you weren't struggling. Per se.

You glanced at him, about to wonder if he felt embarrassed to be seen with you. But after thinking of it for too long, you realized... you don't care.

Very grateful to both of your parents who worked blue-collar jobs to raise you and your siblings, you learned the value of appearance from a young age. You didn't come from the best neighborhood, but you couldn't tell from the way your family presented itself. Your townhouse was always clean and well decorated. Your mother made sure to always have homemade food and put all of her kids through some kind of extracurricular activities. Which is how you go into maths and sciences. You relied on scholarships and the goodness of your teachers to make it where you did. And you never wished things were different; your life made you who you were today.

So what if you didn't wear designer brands? You had immaculate fashion sense even if it was affordable.

And suddenly, you caught yourself smiling. Suddenly, everyone's facial expressions didn't look so judgmental. Someone cleared their throat beside you, and you turned to face a beautiful couple.

The man was immediately recognizable. Matching in height with Damian, Bruce Wayne looked every bit the billionaire playboy in his classic black suit jacket, accessorized with golden cufflinks, crisp white shirt, and a black bow tie. His hair was stylized and polished. Sharp facial features, visibly similar to his son's, and a well-groomed stubble enhanced his masculine charm. He held a confident, charismatic expression that exuded mystery.

He held by the waist a woman in an elegant, form-fitting black evening gown with a daring cut at the front. Her hair was styled in an updo. A statement necklace hung around her neck. Her look complemented Bruce's style while showcasing her own elegance. She gave youband Damian a knowing smile.

"Y/n, this is my father." Damian introduced you.

"It's nice to meet you, Mr. Wayne." You smiled at his father and offered to shake his hand.

He took your hand in a firm grip. "Y/n," his deep voice, also similar to Damian's, greeted you. "You interned for Wayne Industries this summer, am I correct?"

"Yes," you nodded eagerly. "In R&D. It was an amazing opportunity, sir. You run a truly unique organization."

Bruce's grin widened. "Well, I'm glad to hear. Your team lead wrote a great review after you were done. When you graduate, we'd be lucky to have you."

Your cheeks certainly reddened by now, and you felt like you were out of breath as you stuttered out a "Thank you." Or at least you hoped you did. You were pretty sure you had blacked out for a moment.

You couldn't tell Damian how grateful you were for his hand on your lower back. The touch rooting you and making you feel less intimidated, or at least protected by him.

"Thank you, Father." Damian's tone was slow but menacing. "I know young, smart, and pretty are your type, but maybe try not to steal my date? Especially when you have your own..." He gave the woman a pointed look.

She and Bruce shared a knowing look before she turned to you and said in a soft, cat-like taunt. "Careful honey. The more territorial they are, the harder it is to tell if they wish to love you..." She eyed Damian in a way that, for some reason, upset you. "Or own you."

Damian's hand tightened around your waist. The woman caught the movement before her gaze returned to yours. It felt like the air around your was a hundred degrees golder. You felt goosebumps on the back of your neck when she said. "Soon enough, you'll be lucky if Damian lets any man near you."

"I think I see the mayor." Bruce spoke up, breaking the tension, and led the woman away. "We should say hello."

When they were gone, you took in a deep breath, turning to Damian, you wispered. "Was that your mother?"

He huffed out a laugh. "Thank God no." He smiled down at you, his hand rubbing circles on your back. "Did she scare you?"

"She did."

"Yeah, my father's always had a type." He spoke in disdain. For a moment, it almost looked like he was the parent who was dissappointnent in his child's choice in partners.

A small smile crept across your lips. "What's your mother like -"

He lifted your chin and placed a kiss on your lips. A polite way to shut down your question. He pulled back an inch to whisper. "I don't want to talk about my parents anymore." Against your lips.

Message received, you nodded against him. Throughout the night you met a lot of interesting people. Of course, all of them had already known Damian. And they seemed happy to interact with you both. Shy and inexperienced in small talk, you let Damian take the lead. He answered their eager questions with ease, and you noted the way men and women hung on to his every word.

The whole time, Damian's hands never let you go, visibly claiming you in front of whatever audience you had. You took up a rather interesting conversation with a man who word for the district attorney. You nodded eagerly, agreeing with every word as he said. "It's just a different way of thinking. A mathematical one."

"Those are the kinds of conversations I want to be a part of in my line of work." You admitted.

His smiled. "I'm sure you will. If you're eager enough to make it happen. Give me a call if you ever want to come see our unit at work." He handed you a business card, and you took it, nodding gratefully.

Suddenly, you felt Damian slide up from your hip to your neck, his fingers drawing circles on your collarbone. You turned to look at him, seeing his tongue poking his cheek as he eyed the man you were talking to.

"Well." The man cleared his throat. "It was nice meeting you."

"You too," you said before you were led away. Into the hall, away from the crowd.

"Where are you going?" You asked as Damian pulled you into what looked like a conference room, shutting the door behind you and pressing you against it. You looked up at him, squirming under his heated gaze. "Damian, is everything okay?"

"Leave it to you to make a two hundred dollar dress look like it was worth two thousand." He growled against your ear.

"Thank you?" You wimpered in question, unsure how to take the words.

"They were all looking at you like they wanted to take you home with them." He wispered, kissing you hard. "But they can't. You're mine."

You captured your bottom lip between your teeth to keep from moaning. The woman's words from earlier began playing in your mind. You saw Damian the way she described. Possessive, territorial. You couldn't understand why it both scared and excited you.

"Say it." He ordered. "Say you're mine."

"I'm yours." You don't know why you obeyed so quickly. But the words felt right on your tongue.

"Damn right." He wispered, before kissing you hard. "Fuck, you're so beautiful." He groaned against your mouth. "I win. Out of all those men. I win."

The flattering words made you smile. It was the first time someone said something like that to you. To have it be Damian Wayne, of all people.

Eager for more of his praise, you sunk down to your knees in front of him, looking up to meet his gaze as you unbuckled his belt, lowering his pants and boxers. You bit your lip when you saw his erection, tongue sneaking out to lick up his shaft. Damian was bigger than anyone you've been with. You ran your hands over the hard muscles of his stomach before taking him in your mouth and sucking eagerly.

"Fuck yes, baby." He groaned as his fingers pulled into your hair.

You whimpered around him.

"Finger yourself while you suck my dick. Get yourself ready." He ordered.

You obeyed, you index finger touching your clit through under your dress as you whined around his cock. You worked him for minutes on end, switching from sucking to licking his head, delighting in the way his hips trusted against you and his panting sped up above you.

Damian thought he won. But looking up into his glazed dark eyes, brows furrowed in pleasure as his mouth opened... all because of you. All at your mercy. You felt like you were the one who won. No one out of all those women in that room could see him like this except you.

His hand pulled you up by your hair, pining you between himself and the wall again. You felt so fragile in his arms. "Did you finger yourself like I ask, baby?" He asked, lifting the hem of your dress.

You nodded.

His finger dipped into your whole, feeling how wet you are. He grinned at you through a hooded gaze. "Good girl."

He made quick work of lining himself up and thrusting into you. You arched off the wall and into him as your arms flew to grasp onto him. Unable to hold back, you begged him. "Damian, please kiss me!"

His lips were on yours in an instant, silencing a string of uncontrollable moans as he thrust into you over and over again. Despit holding your weight and fucking you for a long time, he never got tired. Rather he sped up, panting against your lips. "Come for me, my perfect girl,"

You nodded absentmindedly, grasping onto him, needing him as close as possible as you whispered. "Please, please..."

He thrust into you hard, both of you moaning into each other as you reached your climax. Your limbs shook even as Damian lowered you and led you to a nearby door, letting you both into a bathroom.

He used a cloth to clean up your pussy, correcting your dress and hair, before adressing his own look. All while you were dazed and coming down from the high. He held your shaking body, kissing your lips and cheeks and forehead, telling you you did a good job. At last he asked, "Are you ready to go make your donation?"

You had nearly forgotten. You turned to him, still disoriented but determined to see your goal through. Glancing at yourself in the mirror, you saw that Damian did a good job of cleaning you up. Other than your flushed face, you wouldn't have been able to guess what you had just done. He offered his hand, and you took it, allowing yourself to be let out.

[polakina]

how they react to you getting hurt on a mission

call of duty headcanons #3

hc masterlist // masterlist

anyone else feel like there's not enough alex keller fics about? if you've got recommendations, send them my way pls <3

rating: explicit

-

heard it over comms while the 141 were raiding an enemy safehouse

you had confirmed intel that they were hiding out after an attack on the local town, so moved in to take them out

you were making your way through the upper sections of the building, whispering into comms as you cleared each room

but as you moved further down the corridor, one of the terrorists barged out of the last door on the left, firing all bullets in your direction

you managed to dodge out of the way for most of them, sending bullets through his skin and taking him down, but not before a bullet lodged itself in your shoulder

price was practically shouting in your ear as he heard the gunshots from above and through his earpiece

he made it to you first, checking over you with worried glances, pulling the collar of your shirt aside to assess the damage

cursed out of sheer panic, grabbing you by the waist and hoisting you up, calling in for evac and medics

did not leave your side the whole flight back to base, constantly asking if you were okay

reaching the medic tent at base, he kept a stern eye on the medics, barking orders to be careful with you

but he was scared

scared he could have lost you

his fear always turned to anger, it was an emotional side of him you'd noticed since working together

he stayed with you the whole time

angry

so fucking angry

not at you, of course

but at literally everyone else

saw you get knocked up against the wall, pinned by your throat with a knife pointing into your stomach, hearing your cry of pain

he saw red

momentarily blacked out as he shot the guy hurting you at least 6 times

a little overkill but deemed it necessary

was immediately by your side. knocked your hand out of the way when you tried to cover it, and shushed you fiercely when you tried to tell him you were okay

did not leave any room for negotiation before picking you up bridal style and hauling ass out of there

didn't trust any medic to patch you up

did everything himself

turned super super quiet as he saw the wound fully, the blood pooling out of the gash. his face turned almost white

wouldn't speak as he cleaned and stitched the wound

it was only when he finally met your eye that his gaze softened. the apologies started uncontrollably spilling out

he apologised for literally an hour; about how he could have stopped the guy, how he could have gotten there sooner

you had to calm him down the whole night

never let you lift a finger until you were fully healed, and even after that he was hesitant to let you do anything strenuous

you caught him looking at your bandages every so often, even during training

one you even caught him in the act while he thought you were sleeping. he lifted your shirt to check you hadn't pulled any stitches, and you scared the shit out of him when you asked what he was doing

the two of you were climbing to reach a higher vantage point as appointed snipers

your rope snapped and you fell to the rocks below

he damn near snapped his neck trying to repel back down to you

saw your dislocated shoulder and couldn't hide his disgust until you pointed it out

nobody was able to reach you, the two of you were alone

said it'd click back into place on its own, and you weren't sure if he was trying to reassure you or convince himself

but when you explained he needed to knock it back into its socket, he shook his head

flat out just said no

the man can deal with blood and bullets and knives. broken bones or dislocations were not his strong suit

his stomach did that weird flip thing when he saw body parts out of place

you scolded him for being a baby and he pouted at you

had to psych himself up to do it

"its just a stupid shoulder, get it together" "don't be a baby, it'll take two seconds" "god that's so disgusting, why does it look that gross"

your eyes nearly rolled out of your head and the initial pain had basically subsided by the time he actually did it

nearly threw up when he felt your shoulder pop back into its socket

was riding alongside you in the truck when it flipped over from an enemy missile

the whole vehicle launched topside and rolled upside down

his first port of call was to turn and check on you, rushing to panic when he saw the blood on your face

after pulling himself out of the vehicle, he ran around and yanked over the driver side door, unclipping your belt and pulling you onto the pavement

saw your broken leg and almost passed out

literally forgot all his medic training in that one moment and only ended up calling for an evac when you told him to

was at your every beck and call while you recovered

you had to be wheelchair bound during your recovery, and as the base trainer, you were able to do your job from your chair

made jokes about you now having to be on wheels

did anything to lift your spirits

helped you with absolutely anything you needed, and secretly kind of liked that he had to take care of you

fell into the male housewife role really quick. scarily quickly

wheels you around base, and more often than not rolls over somebody's toes when he passes them. doesn't have the best spatial awareness capacity

always there to change your bandages, check your wounds

whenever your leg hurts, he's like a professional masseuse

[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

[stinkysam]

Serge "Frenchie" - Can't sleep love.

Warning : nsfw, dry humping, unprotected sex, overstimulation, choking, top!reader, bit of degradation, praise, pre-established consent on everything going on

Genre : smut

Synopsis : You can't sleep and your boyfriend suggests having sex to pass time.

Reader : male (you/yours)

A/N : Reader speaks French as well because I do. // Thought of this while I couldn't sleep. // All translations are at the end. // I'm really not sure about it 😕 there's barely anything for him (this is outrageous) so I can't compare with other people's work so idk if it's good.

Once again you couldn't sleep.

It's been a little more than a year now that you wake up multiple times, every night. You'd just wake up. And fall back asleep after 5 or 10 minutes.

You didn't know why and no medication would work, despite trying quite a few. Whether you were tired or not, going to bed early or late wouldn't change anything. You'd still wake up. Every night.

So here you were at 1am, laying in your shared bed with Frenchie fast asleep by your side. You knew you fell asleep around 11, or so you think, you're not sure anymore after ruminating as much as you were doing now. You kept turning and tossing, it's been longer than usual, making you annoyed, pulling the blankets up then pushing them down. Too hot. Too cold. Too hot. Too co-

“Mon amour ?” You hear. Shit, you woke Frenchie up with your constant movements.

“Yeah ?” You whispered back, turning to face him.

“Ça va ?” He scoots closer, placing a hand on your cheek. Worry evident in his voice. You grab it, kissing his palm.

“Non. Can't fucking sleep.”

“Again ?”

“Comme toutes les nuits.” You chuckled bitterly. “Normally I wouldn't care much, I fall back asleep after 5 minutes but it's been an hour and I'm still not asleep.”

He says nothing, listening.

“I'm so bored, it's pissing me off.” You add with a huff, ready to toss and turn again. A moment of silence falls as Frenchie thinks.

“Wanna fuck ? Pour passer le temps ?” He finally says with a cheeky smile.

You turn your head to look at him again though you can barely see his features in the dark. A moment of silence passes again as you thought.

“It won't work, y'know ?”

“Why not ?”

“I just know it won’t.” You shrugged but continued speaking after a second. “But pour passer le temps ?” You repeated. “Okay, d'accord. Pourquoi pas.” You weren't particularly aroused but at least you would be doing something instead of waiting for the sleep that refused to come. Still, you wasted no time as you climbed on top of Frenchie, capturing his lips in a hungry kiss. He responded with as much energy, his hands slipping quickly under your shirt to touch you everywhere.

You kissed him everywhere on his face, your hands holding his head still as you pushed your knee between his legs, applying pressure on his growing hard on, making him moan lightly before biting his lower lip, earning a hiss as he grabbed you harder, pulling you closer at the same time.

His tongue in your mouth, dancing with yours as you shared more than sloppy kisses, but you didn't let that and his pretty noises distract you from massaging his dick with your knee, feeling it grow harder under your ministrations. Frenchie’s moans grew louder as his boxers felt too tight now, spreading his legs open as he bucked his hips against you to get more friction.

“Eager, are we ?” You said in between kisses. But truth be told, you were as eager as him.

“J'ai juste envie de toi, mon cœur.” He replied, pushing his lips back against yours.

He kept humping your leg, small moans leaving his mouth.

Your thumbs caressed his skin, feeling his light stubble and still fresh cut he got from a fight. Your knee never stopped pushing against his dick and balls, massaging them in a rough manner. The more you did so, the louder he became, not caring if the walls of your place weren't thick enough to contain his moans.

“Putain.” He breathed out several times in between kisses.

You continued like this ‘til he came in his boxers. You didn't give him the time to regain his breath as you pulled his boxers down, jerking his now sensitive cock.

“Attends- Wait ! Mon coeur-” Frenchie hissed, a hand flying over to yours in a weak attempt to stop you, but you gently slapped it. After all, he still hadn't said the safeword. So he closed his eyes for a few seconds, letting you do whatever you wanted to do as small moans began to leave his lips once more.

Your thumb caressed his dick roughly, not letting it go soft as you followed the veins to his balls before your other hand went under, pushing a spit covered finger in his ass. He hissed once more, clenching around your index before relaxing rapidly.

Your own cock was painfully hard in your boxers by now but you didn't mind. You were patient and had other plans. So you continued jerking Frenchie before adding a second finger, making scissor motions.

“You're not allowed to come.” You informed hom, watching him quickly nod through his moans. “Good boy.” You kissed his knee that was resting against you and his cock pulsed at your words.

You tormented him like that for a few minutes, jerking him rapidly then slowly then fast again while your fingers still worked his ass, occasionally tickling his prostate. His moans and gasps were like music to your ears, you wished you could listen to them forever. So you savored them instead.

“Ah ! Putain ! I'm- Can I come ? Please ?” He quickly asked, words rushing out. He really needed to cum.

“No.”

“But mon coeur…”

“I said no, slut.” You smiled devilishly as you knew he would obey, and it didn't miss. He whined but complied, his legs shaking as he tried hard not to close them and not to cum. Eyes shut tightly as more moans spilled from his lips.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.” You heard him say under his breath, almost like a prayer while his hips moved in an erratic manner to match the pace of your both hands.

Pre-cum was leaking from his tip, coating your hand while your other one continued to finger him.

“You like that, huh ? T'es ma petite pute. Mh, Serge ?”

Frenchie nodded at your words, dick throbbing in your hand, more pre pooling out.

You could tell how much he wanted to cum and how hard he was trying not to with tears in his eyes. You took note of how this time he didn't wipe them, he knew you liked seeing them. You decided to be kind, knowing him, he wouldn't beg for it, not because he's above begging but because he wants to be good and fear you'd say “No.” for the hell of it.

“What a good boy.” You said with a smile, kissing his knee once more. “You can cum.”

And it didn't take long for him to come after your words, a sigh of relief mixed with more moans of pleasure left him as you helped him ride his second orgasm, cum landing on his shirt and lower abdomen. But once more, you didn't let him relax, pulling your fingers out of him to replace them with your aching dick after removing your boxers.

“Putain de- Ah !” He gasped, and you pulled him up, making him bounce on your cock. He wrapped his arms around you for more stability, moaning loudly in your ear as he planted his face in the crook of your neck. There was no way your neighbor didn't know what you two were doing by now, but you didn't care as you continued to plow into your boyfriend. His cock was rubbing against you, smearing pre and come all over you two.

His breathing was loud and erratic as he tried to calm down, without success. So he busied himself by kissing you again, holding you close.

Wanting to change position, but thinking the headboard was far enough you pushed Frenchie down and a ‘bonk’ was heard followed by a quick “Aie !”. He had hit his head against the fucking headboard.

You laughed, rapidly apologizing, kissing his forehead.

“You okay ?” You asked, hands planted by his shoulders as you peppered his face with kisses.

“Mon chéri, you need to do more than that to take me out.” He said with a smirk, though you couldn't see it in the dark you could hear it in his voice.

You snorted, kissing him once more on the lips before pushing yourself back in, soft moans escaping him again.

With one hand you held yourself up above him while the other one went to his throat, squeezing the sides to restrict his blood flow.

“Oh, putain...” He managed to speak, though his voice was a bit hoarse as he began to feel light headed after a few seconds. Each time you would release his neck, Frenchie would gasp for air, eyes half lidded, only for you to start again. You're careful as to not apply pressure on his windpipe, counting each second of when he can and can't breathe.

But while you're cautious with your hand, you're less caring with how hard your dick ram into him. Certainly bruising his prostate with each hit, earning pretty broken moans after pretty broken moan.

“What a good boy you are, huh ?” You said, leaning down, kissing him. He tried to kiss you back but felt too hazy to succeed. “You're doing so good for me.” His cock throbbed with each of your words, clearly enjoying them.

He grabbed your arm, not to pull your hand away from his throat but to warn you he was close to cumming again. Good, you were reaching your limit too.

“You can cum, pretty boy.” This time you made sure to choke him while he reached his climax, cum spilling on his shirt and a bit on you. His ears were ringing when you finally let go of him and his head felt bubbly. You finished quickly after, inside him, but you didn't pull out directly and instead waited to calm down from both your high and his.

Frenchie was panting under you, slowly regaining his breath, chest heaving up and down.

You both groaned when you pulled out and you quickly left the bed to get a cloth and a water bottle. You rapidly cleaned yourself, then Frenchie.

“Merci.” He said, grabbing the bottle before drinking some of it. You watched as Frenchie removed his cum stained shirt and threw it to the side. You did the same and went back to bed, cuddled against him under a thin blanket. You both closed your eyes and after a moment…

“It didn't work. I don't feel sleepy at all.” You sighed. He laughed

“It worked for me !”

“Connard.”

“What ? C'pas ma faute !”

“What ?! It literally is ! We fucked and it woke me up more than ever !”

“Oh, va te faire foutre !” He laughed and placed his chin above your head, holding you close.

“Comment vas ta gorge ? J't'ai fait mal ?” You asked, kissing his neck.

“Non, mon chéri. You didn't hurt me. I told you, you need to do more than that to take me out.”

“Okay. Good. I love you.”

It's not your first time saying these three words yet it always catches Frenchie off guard. After everything that's happened, his past and ex-lovers, he wasn't sure if he deserved these words.

“I- I love you too.” He replied after a little while.

“You don't have to say it back, you know. I know you do.” You kissed his forehead.

“Non, je sais, but I want to.”

“Okay.” You smiled.

While Frenchie fell asleep rather quickly after, arms holding you tightly, you had to wait once more, stuck in his embrace, unable to toss and turn anymore. And of course, it didn't miss, you woke up later that night. And once more at around 5 am without falling back asleep.

Putain de merde.

--

Translations :

Mon amour - My love.

Ça va ? - You okay ?

Non - No.

Comme toutes les nuits - Like every night.

Pour passer le temps - To pass time.

D'accord - Okay / Alright.

Pourquoi pas - Why not.

Putain - Fuck.

J'ai juste envie de toi - I just want you.

Attends - Wait.

T'es ma petite pute - You’re my little whore.

Putain de… - Fucking...

Mon chéri - My dear.

Merci - Thank you.

Connard - Asshole.

C’pas ma faute - It's not my fault.

Va te faire foutre - Go fuck yourself.

Comment vas ta gorge ? - How is your throat ?

J't'ai fait mal ? - Did I hurt you ?

Non, je sais - No, I know.

Putain de merde - Fucking shit.

[kimberly-spirits13]

Playground Chaos

Pairing: Jason Todd x reader

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1450

Summary: Dick decides that everyone needs to go to the playground to kill time during patrol. Jason pushes you on the swing, and chaos ensues.

The inspiration video

Darkness loomed over Gotham as its heroes leaped from building to building, searching for anything amiss in the sounds of the city. The car lights from below reflected on the glass windows of the skyscrapers around you and the sounds of the streets filled your ears. Someone was playing a popular pop song very loudly in one of the offices below you and a different person was taking a smoke break by the front door of a late-night dinner. Neon lights danced in the night as you zipped along the grappling rope that you had shot from one smaller building to the bank, where the infamous Red Hood was perched. 

            “All clear on 2nd Street.” You said walking up behind the brooding figure, “Heard anything from anyone else?”

            Jason turned around to face you and lurched forward for a tight embrace, “Dick has been ranting about how bored he is for the past 15 minutes.” “I want to get out of here.” 

            “There’s only 30 minutes left of patrol and then we can crash.” You said, your head falling into the crook of his neck.

            A crack in the comms in your ears made you pull away to turn your earpiece back on to the group and not just Jason.   

            “We should go to the playground.” Dick’s voice rang out into your ear.

            “That is the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard.” Damian replied quickly, “We are elite fighters, not children.”

            “Technically demon-spawn, you’re a child.” The sound of a snarky Tim made you laugh as you reached up to reply.

            “What playground?” You asked.

            Jason shot you a look as you shrugged your shoulders, “Hey, Bats would not be happy if we came back early so, we might as well do something since there’s nothing else to do.”

            “I guess you’re right doll.”

            “Besides, we can probably bust some creep hanging around the playground.”

            “At this time of night?” Jason almost snorted.          

            “You never know in Gotham. At this time of night, they’re probably high of their rockers.”

            “We’ll meet everyone at the West End playground.” You said into the comms.

            The West End of Gotham was one of the nicer sides of Gotham. There probably wouldn’t be anything suspicious happening, but for the gaggle of vigilantes playing on the playground. You and Jason glided down the building using your grappling guns to keep from plummeting off the side of the bank. When your feet met the ground, you pulled your grapple back in and got onto the back of Jason’s bike, quickly followed by Jason who pushed the kick stand up and started the engine. 

            “You know, when you get your bike back from the shop, we can go on a road trip.” Jason said as you bolted out of the alleyway.

            “Sounds fun. We could ride up to Salem when the leaves get bright again.” 

            “That little coffee shop that you like should be open that week so we can book a room at one of the inns and stay there.” Jason agreed as he turned onto some other street leading towards where you were meant to be. 

            When you got to the playground, Dick, Tim, Damian, Stephanie, and Cass were already there. They must have been close enough already to beat you since it was unlikely that they would have made it faster than Jason’s bike.

            “Well look who finally showed up.” Stephanie came over to you and nudged your side, “We thought you got lost.”

            “I don’t get lost Steph.” Jason took your helmet from you and set it on the bike’s seat, earning a quite “thank you” from you.

            “Timmy lets go on the seesaw.” Dick ran over to the blue and silver seesaw like a kid with a sugar high and sat ready for Tim to climb onto the other side. 

            Cass and Damian got onto the other seesaw with the two casually talking. Dick and Tim were attempting to balance each other on the seesaw and you, and Stephanie were sitting on the swings, lightly swinging back and forth until Stephanie decided that she wanted to try and flip over the bar. 

            “Steph, if you die, I’ll give a warm eulogy at your funeral.” You said laughing at her attempts of gaining speed on the swing.

            “I really appreciate that Y/N/N.”

            Jason stood behind you and watched everyone contently. He saw the smiles on Tim and Dick’s faces and how Cass was coaxing Damian into laughing at whatever they were talking about. He worried for Steph and whether they’d have to carry her out together or if she’d successfully land whenever she inevitably went flying off the swing set. 

            “Jay, you know you can join us.” You grabbed his hand and pulled him closer to you as you swung back and forth.

            “I’m good babe. Can I push you?” He started to walk behind you when you told him he could and lightly began to push you on the swing. 

            Jason didn’t push you too high, but instead talked to you about whatever came to mind as Stephanie began to attempt to flip next to you.             

            “You good Blondie?” Jason snickered seeing her try to make it over the bar. The entire swing set was starting to shake as she climbed higher and higher.

            “You know, I don’t think this is going to flip me anymore.” She said through giggles, “Is there something stopping it?” 

            “Yeah Steph, there’s a little bar on the top of the hinge keeping it from flipping.” You said, “You can still get a good jump off the swing though.” 

            You could feel the near disappointment radiating off Stephanie which was quickly diffused by her leaping from the swing and landing on her feet a few yards away. When she turned around, she gave a small bow and you clapped for her success jokingly.

            “Wait you guys are so cute!” Steph gasped as she saw Jason pushing you on the swing, something that she had not really been paying attention to when she was on her airborne escapade.

            You blushed and heard Jason laugh softly behind you as he grabbed onto the small of your waist, slowing you down little by little. Stephanie’s attention was taken off you when Dick and Tim started trying to launch each other off the seesaw.

            “I think your brother is about to die.” You started laughing at the two and saw Cass pull out her phone to film the two boys.

            “Which one?” Jason started playing with your hair and braiding it back into a messy fishtail.

            “Both.” You replied, earning a giggle from Jason before he finished off your braid.

            Laugher rang out into the night before Dick pipped up, challenging Tim.

            “Okay Tim, go all the way down.” Dick said, “Okay now jump as hard as you can.” 

            Tim did what he was told, lifting himself into the air harshly. Dick came down with a thud before flying into the air. The entire point of the two boys being insane on the seesaw was the lift themselves off the seat without falling off. In order to do this, the boys had to push against the handlebar of the seesaw to keep themselves from falling off the front of the seat. 

            When Tim threw Dick into the air, the expected happened where Dick didn’t hold on tight enough and he went flying off the seesaw, hitting the ground with a large thud. Laughter roared from everyone the park as Dick rolled over onto his back with tears of laughter coming from his eyes. Jason leaned against you laughing and couldn’t compose himself to stand up. Tim was laying on the ground wheezing and Cass was proudly filming it all.

            “Please, tell me someone got that on video!” Dick cried between laughs.

            “I did!” Cass yelled, “I got that on video!”

            “I thought I taught you to land better than that.” A deep voice came from the shadows, startling all of you.       

            “You saw that?” Dick screamed. 

            “From the launch to the fall.” Bruce was smiling, almost laughing at his oldest.

            “Why are you here?” Steph was the first to ask the question.

            “You guys are an hour late getting home from patrol, so I came to make sure nothing was wrong. When I saw that you were here, I figured you were killing time and didn’t know how late it was.” 

            “The Big Bats coming to check on his kids.” Tim laughed, “What a sight.” 

            You stood up off the swing after recovering from what had happened and grabbed onto Jason’s hand, “want to go home now?” He whispered into your ear. 

            “Only after I know I have that video.” 

[lunarw0rks]

hi!! just wanted to stop in and give an idea ig

141 with a reader who’s like a mother hen after a mission, making sure everyone’s not injured, and god forbid they are, she’s trying to stop the bleeding, and scolding soap for being so reckless!! even after they get back to base after a long day, she’s fussy.

IDK JUST A RANDOM BLURB??

A/N: Such a cute idea, not one I would've thought of on my own! Hope I did the request justice <3

Summary: It's in your nature, the motherly role you feel towards the other members of the Task Force. Patching up their injuries, and scolding the two most reckless ones, it's all become routine.

Warning(s): platonic!141, fem!reader, canon-typical violence, blood/minor injury mention, mild language, suggestive banter, no use of y/n

Word Count: 2.1k

꒦꒷ MAIN MASTERLIST ꒷꒦ 141 MASTERLIST // have a request? ⋆ ⚘ 🕊 ˚✧ ₊˚ʚ ao3 ver.

Troublemakers // Drabble

Though you hadn’t said a word on the ride back, at least outside of ones pertaining to the operation, the look on your face said enough. For every mission, no matter the time and place, something goes wrong—someone gets hurt.

“Anybody broken?” Captain Price comes through the comms, the static crackling through the jeep.

“Everybody’s fine, Captain. For now.” Your voice hissed back into the radio, eyes scanning their faces for any signs of an injury. Right now, there weren’t any signs. But the second this jeep stopped, there was no way in hell they were getting past you without you at least checking. It had become your unofficial job; the mother of the team, the medic without an official title, even the ‘buzzkill’ at some points.

There was no time to fuss over them at first, during evac. Everyone had piled into the vehicles too quickly, and you were eager to get out of there just as much. You were a natural nurturer, but not blinded by your instincts—there was a chain of command, after all. When your Captain says to evac, you evac, no questions.

Once the titles and formalities fizzled out, once the comms went quiet, that side of you always came out.

The jeep was moving at high speeds, and the passing landscape was a blur. A secluded, abandoned field where the operation went wrong; the taperings of town turning into the city; fizzled out until it turned into the secluded dry field again—when you reached the base.

In usual fashion, everyone got out first, and you last.

It was second nature, ushering them out like a clown car, then examining the inside of the empty vehicle to make sure nobody forgot anything. It was comical to them, so comical they still shot amused looks as you cased the car. Any further into this role, and you would start saying “C’mon kids” every time you went somewhere with them.

Another challenge to their chivalry was the way you held the door open for each of them, eyes glued to them as pursed your lips in discontent. But, they knew the drill just as well as you did.

First, you peered at Simon, though he just walked by with his usual scowl, probably finding a dark corner to brood in. He was the only one you didn’t bother to fuss over, unless you wanted to get chewed out, naturally.

It was the other two you were the most concerned about—Gaz and Soap, the troublemakers. If you could call them that in the field, you would have a thousand times already, and most likely more than that, knowing them.

Heavy sighs filled the room, sweaty brows wiped as they relieved their bodies of the extra pounds their gear gave them. Vests and buckles undone, muscles stretched as the adrenaline coursing through each of you steadied itself.

For once, you were also overjoyed to see the bland walls of this base, and them too, as much as they gave you grief. Each mission was like watching a toddler climb up to the top of a playset, waiting for the inevitable injury that comes once they fall—and every time, your hammering heart nearly came through your chest.

Yes, they were grown men, trained soldiers, but that instinct still prevailed. You couldn’t trust them with your life if they didn’t have theirs, could you? The world kept turning, and the clocks kept ticking, all as long as you played your maternal part in this arrangement.

You squinted at the two troublemakers, that gut instinct showing itself. “You sure nothing went wrong, you two? No blood?” It was a series of accusations, not naive questions. You knew something was up, there was that bubbling in your chest.

Gaz’s lip tightened into a line like he was trying not to reveal the truth. “No blood.” What a liar, and a bad one at that. Knowing these two, Soap was probably pinching his skin where you couldn’t see, trying to contort it until you were left with no suspicions.

There was no way you could force the truth out, so if they didn’t want your help, they weren’t getting it from you.

With a slow nod, you began to take off your own gear, gathering your pack and all the extras. Perhaps, for once, it would be a happy ending. You would settle into your dorm, lay back on your cot, and catch up on some paperwork, maybe even some light reading—

Well, that fantasy came about as quickly as it went.

Soap’s palm was hovering over his side, letting out a grunt of pain when he put his backpack over his shoulders. He had turned so abruptly, nearly scampering down to reach his own dorm. But he wasn’t quick enough, and your iron grip on his wrist—it was as unyielding as your grit.

“C’mon, I’m fine, Lass.” Soap grunts, like a child embarrassed when his mother dabs his face with a napkin. “It’s just a—”

“—a scratch?” You scoff, lightly smacking your free hand against his tender side. No matter how tough he was, how well he thought he was going to hide it, he had keeled over and held the spot you barely made contact with.

Gaz was attempting to contain his laughter, which was only met with the kick of one of Soap’s legs to his shin.

You couldn’t believe it, from causing trouble and bickering to working as a team and failing miserably.

The grip on Soap’s wrist loosened, instead now on the strap of his bag, gently sliding it off his tender shoulder. “Let me look at it, please.” You pleaded, trying to keep your tone both firm but concerned all at once. It seems it wasn’t just a scratch; once again you were right.

“I got nothin’ but admiration for you, why do you do this to me?” Soap whines, still not budging and letting you examine the wounds.

You ran your tongue over the inside of your cheek, cocking a brow at him. “Sit down, Johnny. Now.”

Your finger was pointing at one of the spare dining chairs in the kitchenette, and it wasn’t a request either. He knew that by now. Soap could try and swoon you, butter you up until you left it alone, but it wouldn’t work.

“Yes, ma’am.” His tone was defeated, but he still had a smirk on his face, like he was enjoying the attention.

Gaz snickered from behind you, and you could hear him begin his trek out of the room. “Better to just listen to the lady, or she won’t stop.”

Before you could even lay eyes on Soap’s injury, your head snapped in Gaz’s direction. He was on just as thin of ice, he was only lucky you could tolerate his jokes. “You’re part of this too, Gaz. I suggest you don’t wander too far.”

It was ironic; men who had worked so hard, trained to kill, and yet, they were downright gutless when in your sights, especially when caught in a lie.

All apart from Simon, who maintained the same distance with you as everyone else—that you could accept, it was just the way he was. But from these two clowns? Not for a second.

It wasn’t coming from thin air, either, this was a two-sided deal. The first time you were injured in the field, you attempted to diminish it, to write it off and suffer by yourself. It went about as well for you as it was for Soap right now—forced into a chair and stitched up with an icy glare, one that says “don’t ever do that again” without any actual words surfacing.

That’s how you knew this wasn’t in vain, even if your work didn’t always come with a response of gratitude.

You were strong where they were weak—and in return, they would quite literally kill for you, in and out of the field. God knows you’ve had to hold them back more than a few times; order comes out wrong at the restaurant, you get ghosted after a date, or someone insults your abilities as a soldier? It’s a mess.

Your eyes stayed on Soap’s pout through the reflection of the window above the sink, scrubbing away the grime on your hands before you got to work on him. In mere minutes, you’d retrieved the very used first aid kit, laying out any supplies you might need. Knowing him, it could be as small as a papercut, or a gushing wound under the fabric of his shirt.

He had already removed his, cheeks rosy and lips crinkled like you hadn’t seen this a thousand times. Not to mention, you were patching him up, not asking for a striptease. He was the one making things awkward, for the record.

Aside from the dirt, the scars, and small scrapes, it was an injury that needed to be looked at, regardless of how stubborn the patient was. A nasty bruise was forming on his peck area and below it a gash with some tiny glass shards still embedded in it. The shoulder had no visible injury, but based on how tender the skin was, he had sprained it again.

“Christ. How do you manage this? It was a simple sweep mission, MacTavish.” You shook your head in disapproval, putting on a pair of disposable gloves with a loud snap of the blue latex.

He takes the hits like a dog that knows he’s in trouble, only it's a look of acceptance rather than apprehension. It was coming from a place of care, not anger, and by God did Soap’s reckless behavior make your heart drop often.

Your rambles continued, almost as if you were talking to yourself. Your fingers worked carefully, using the tweezers to get any debris out of there.

“Can you do anything about this, Captain?” Soap’s words made your work slow, not stop.

“No, I cannot, Sergeant.” Even Price was aware of this dynamic, and frankly, he was thankful for it, one less person to worry about getting in trouble. You scolded it, didn’t partake in it—and that left less paternal instincts of his own to run dry.

Price’s boots retreated without another word, probably to work tirelessly in his office for the rest of the night. Now, it was clear to Soap that there really was no way out of this, no way to shimmy away from your caring nature.

Might as well take advantage of it the only way he knew how. “You look like you need a drink, Lass. Always so tense.”

You stared up at him through your lashes, wrapping the gauze a little tighter than you usually would. What were you supposed to say to that? He was right, you could use a drink, but he wasn’t going to get the satisfaction of being right—being right was your job.

Before you could utter a witty response, Simon spoke up for the first time since the mission. “She has a scalpel at the ready, Johnny. I would tread lightly if I were you.” For once, his cynical humor had landed on your side, and it nearly made you spit out a laugh, if you weren’t so focused.

If you were as childish as Soap, you might’ve said I told you so, but your stern look said enough. After you finished disinfecting the wounds, you bandaged them up, patting the cotton with your fingers to make it stick.

“All better now, just don’t do it again.” A satisfied beam appeared on your face, that worry in your gut dissipating when he was patched up. “Please?” Now, it was desperate and anxiety-filled.

He probably would do something like this again, but maybe next time he would at least think first, and you could live with that.

Soaps fingers find his shirt, slipping it over his head slowly with a pained groan. “I can’t promise that.” Then, they find the nearest bottle of whiskey, in true fashion for him. “But I’ll find you first next time, ask permission to get hurt.”

You scoffed and let out a sarcastic ha-ha, but stepped back enough to give him space, discarding the gloves into the waste basket. Once he had collected his things, keeping them in his uninjured arm this time, a cheek smirk appeared again.

He waited until you had turned your back to wash your hands again, and to be safe, a few feet further from you. “Thanks, Mom.” Soap turned on his heels and whipped around the corner, down the hall before you could show him your face of shock.

On second thought, maybe next time he wouldn’t have to ask to get hurt, and it would be your own two hands making him pay for that comment.

[webslinger-holland]

Best Pilot in the Galaxy | Tech from The Bad Batch

Summary: During a mission, Tech has a hard time allowing his ship to be driven by someone else.

Warning: slight angst and argument

Pairing: Tech x Fem!Reader Pilot

Type: Oneshot

The Marauder was sitting on a world in the Outer Rim called Cassander. It was a lush, green planet with a few major bodies of water. However, most notably, the planet was growing in population and had recently become Ord Mantell's most competitive trading rival.

The ship was nearly empty, except for a singular pilot sitting in the cockpit. She was not the rightful owner of the ship, but had been assigned this mission with the group of rouge clones that did own the ship. The squad was located somewhere in the capital city nearby, attempting to steal the package in which they had come for. The pilot waited patiently for the pickup call.

Now, the pilot had been waiting for nearly two hours for the call to come through the comms. She did everything she could think of to pass the time, which included rummaging through the squad's belongings. Though she didn't find anything of value.

The gonk droid made a noise as he waddled into the cockpit. The pilot went through the ship's log, seeing all the planets the squad had recently visited. Their last stop happened to be Ord Mantell where they were assigned this mission in particular.

"Y/n! Come in," Hunter's voice sounded desperate over the comms. She quickly jolted forward in her seat, pressing the button to relay a message back.

"Read you loud and clear," Y/n responded. She began clicking buttons on the control panel, preparing the ship for liftoff.

"We need a pick up. We've been compromised," Hunter explained. He was panting on the other end of the line, which probably meant they were running.

"What part of stealth mission is so hard to understand?"

"Just hurry. We don't have a lot of time. They're sending air support," Hunter warned her.

"Oh great," Y/n scoffed sarcastically.

"I'm sending you our coordinates," Tech interjected over the communications.

As the Marauder departed off the ground, the landing gear retracted back into the ship. The wings moved downwards as the ship was angled towards the sky. The engine roared to life; the ship began flying towards the rendezvous location.

The workers from the trading post were shooting their blasters at the criminals running away from them. They tried to keep up with them, firing relentlessly as they got away with some of their own goods.

It was Wrecker, Hunter, and Tech who were carrying the heavy cargo in the form of a shipping container. Normally, it would take four guys to carry the cargo, but since Wrecker was so strong, he was able to carry the left side without help. Behind them, Echo and Omega fired shots back at the workers. They covered them as the rest ran as fast as they could.

"Whatever is in here, it better be worth it." Wrecker grunted, dodging the blaster fire.

"As long as we get paid," Hunter responded.

The small squad continued running through the vast forest, maneuvering around trees in hopes of using its coverage to their advantage. They came into a clearing with the workers getting closer each second. All of the sudden, a cliff came into their view which caused them to halt in their place.

"Where's our ride?" Echo asked desperately. He peered around his shoulder with his gun still raised.

"There!" Omega pointed into the sky.

The Marauder rounded the corner of the mountain, coming into their line of view. It flew over to the edge of the cliff to meet them. The ramp lowered to hover right by the cliff, allowing the squad to climb aboard the vessel.

The blaster fire was beginning to hit the sides of the ship. The squad fired back, striking a few of the workers down. Once everyone was aboard, Hunter slammed the button on the side of the wall so the ramp was lifted.

"That's everyone," Hunter shouted. "Get us out of here!"

"Roger that," Y/n said.

Pulling a lever, the thrusters sent a powerful volt back which propelled the ship forward rapidly. By steering the ship, Y/n directed the ship back into the mountain range. She could hear the air support coming up behind them. She took a sharp turn to deter them.

The sharp turn caused each member of the squad to loose their footing and grab something nearby to steady themselves. Carefully, Tech quickly made his way into the cockpit. He leaned over the back of the pilot's seat, resting his hand on the panel for support. He hadn't taken the time to remove his helmet.

"That is sufficient," Tech announced to the pilot. "I'll take it from here."

"A little busy here," Y/n stated instead. She turned the wheel to the left, taking another sharp turn which made everything in the ship turn that way. And Tech ended up leaning a little into her.

"Wrecker," Tech ordered. He moved to sit in the co-pilot seat which was where Echo usually sat. "Get to the tail gun."

There were at least six smaller ships following them at this point, firing as many rounds as possible. The Marauder swayed to the left and right, expertly dodging each blast aimed at them. In the tail gun, Wrecker got into position before firing back at the ships. He managed to hit one of them, but it wasn't enough to bring the ship down.

Back in the cockpit, Tech began pressing a few buttons on the control panel. The pilot glared at him through the corner of her eye, knowing exactly what he was trying to do. She maintained her grip on the sides of the wheel.

"Transitioning controls back to co-pilot," Tech announced. He went to press the final red button, but she swatted his hand away. "What are you doing?" Tech demanded an explanation.

"I know how to fly," Y/n said through gritted teeth. Her eyes were still facing forward as she focused on the task at hand.

"I never said you didn't," Tech informed her. "I am simply stating that I am ready to transition controls back to me as I am more capable of flying this vessel than you. It is my ship after all," Tech said as a matter of factly.

Hunter rolled his eyes in the background. He knew it was pointless to argue over the comment.

"You weren't hired to be the pilot for this mission," Y/n argued back. "I can get us out of this."

With that comment, one of the blaster fires struck the right wing which caused it to catch on fire. The two of them peered out the window, spotting the trail of black smoke falling behind the hit.

"You were saying?" Tech replied. He gestured to the damage done to his ship. She rolled her eyes at him.

A few more ships began trailing behind them. They began firing more shots towards them. There was no way one ship could take the whole fleet down.

"Uh guys," Wrecker announced from the tail gun. "We've got more incoming."

Ignoring the comment, Tech quickly transitioned controls back to his wheel before the other pilot could protest. He gripped the wheel harshly, moving the wheel to take a sharp left hand turn. The ship was forced to swerve around the side of the mountain; a few of the enemy ships crashed into the sides as a result. She switched controls back to her wheel, taking a right hand turn. The ship weaved around another mountainside.

Behind the googles of his helmet, Tech squinted his eyes in slight irritation. He changed controls once again. He quickly grabbed onto the lever, pulling it backwards so the thrusters gave another jolt of energy. Now they were flying a little faster.

Nevertheless, another blaster hit managed to strike the back of the ship. The Marauder jolted forward from the force of the blast. The two pilots lurched forward in their seats. The others continued to hold onto things for support.

"You aren't doing much better," Y/n replied snakily. She reached forward to press the button once more. She turned the wheel as far as she could, which caused the ship to completely turn around. She pulled the lever for the extra push.

"What are you doing?" Tech exclaimed. "Are you trying to get us killed?"

Down in the tail gun, Wrecker began firing at the ships flying directly in front of them. With his expertise, he struck down three ships. Those ships exploded into a million pieces, fierce flames erupting around them. The Marauder flew through the fire without taking damage.

The enemy ships needed to turn around before continuing their chase. They quickly swerved their ships. Once the ships were facing the right way, the thrusters kicked in for that extra power. And the enemy continued their pursuit.

"I will only say this one more time," Tech's modulated voice spoke through his helmet. He turned to face her in his seat. His eyes looked angry behind his googles. "Relinquish controls now."

"Over my dead body," Y/n challenged him. She didn't take her eyes off him.

In the background, Hunter and Echo seemed to raise their eyebrows at the two pilots. They looked between them, half expecting one of them to cave in and go back to flying the ship. But neither of them faltered.

"Uh guys," Omega interrupted them.

Both of them directed their line of attention back towards flying the ship. With a quick maneuver, they managed to dodge the mountain they were heading straight for at the last second. A few more ships crashed into it.

"You're both going to get us all killed if you don't figure something out," Hunter shouted behind them.

Reaching forward, Y/n went to press a few more buttons, but Tech swatted her hand away this time. He went ahead and pressed his own buttons. He was punching in the coordinates for their destination.

"You are not the best pilot in the galaxy," Y/n claimed. She glanced at him through the corner of her eye. He kept putting in the coordinates.

"Hardly a measurable cause," Tech said with a roll of his eyes in annoyance.

"You haven't made the Kessel Run in fourteen parsecs," Y/n added. It was like she was insisting that it could be measurable.

"I have a theory that it can be done in twelve," Tech stated as a matter of factly.

"I highly doubt that," Y/n chuckled at the comment.

Suddenly, Y/n pressed the wheel forward with all of her might. The ship began to descend down at a rapid pace, shifting into a nose dive position. The ground was growing closer and closer with each second. The enemy ships following right behind them, firing non-stop.

Both Hunter and Echo were holding onto panels behind them. The force of falling forwards was pushing them back. They were unable to move.

"You have to pull up--" Tech ordered in a slight panic.

"Oh for the last time," Y/n shouted over him. "I know what I'm doing!"

At the last possible second, the wonderfully skilled pilot pulled the wheel into her chest so that the ship was pulled up. It was so close to touching the ground, but it missed it by a hair. The last two ships crashed into the ground, exploding suddenly and sending debris flying.

Now that the threat of the chase was finally over, Y/n could relax in her seat a little. The rest of the squad was completely silent, realizing that she had managed to get them out of the situation with little damage in the end. Beside her, Tech kept his eye on her since he was still angry with her.

The Marauder started to climb in altitude, shifting towards the edge of the planet's atmosphere. It finally passed through the atmosphere, flying through space. The stars throughout the galaxy sparkled as the planet grew small and smaller. It was now all behind them.

"Are the coordinates to Ord Mantell in?" Y/n wondered. Her voice was so much calmer now. Her shoulders slumped at her sides. But she refused to make eye contact.

"Yes. They are in," Tech informed her softly. His eyes softened behind his helmet. He studied her carefully, trying to figure out what she was thinking in that brain of hers. He quickly shook it off, directing his attention back towards the void of space in front of them.

Without thinking, Tech and Y/n went to reach for the lever to send them into hyperspace. Their hands grazed each other's with neither of them being any closer to the lever than the other. They both awkwardly pulled their hands away upon contact.

"I'm sorry," Y/n muttered under her breath.

He wasn't sure if she was apologizing for the situation they just came out of or the situation that just occurred with the lever. Nevertheless, she reached for the lever once again, pulling it back to send the ship into hyperspace.

Back at Ord Mantell, the Bad Batch went back to Cid's Parlor. They stood on the other side of her desk, having just delivered the cargo that she paid them to retrieve. She peered into the package, checking to make sure everything was there.

Behind the group, Y/n stood there in total silence. Her eyes were trained on the floor as she shifted in her place awkwardly. She waited for their boss to address them.

Beside her, Tech stood about an arm's length away. He glanced at her through the corner of his eye, taking note of her odd demeanor. He raised his finger and opened his mouth to say something to her, but he was rudely cut off.

"Looks like everything is here," Cid announced. She closed the cargo container. She began rummaging through her drawers, collecting the correct amount of credits to pay both parties.

Now Y/n went to take a few steps forward and made her way through the members of the squad. She stood in front of the desk. Her boss went ahead and placed a handful of credits in her hand.

"That is your cut," Cid told her. She handed the rest of the credits to Hunter. "And here is your cut. I'll call you when I have another job," Cid claimed.

There was a brief moment of silence in the room. Cid went to cross her arms over her chest. She narrowed her eyes at the company of six standing in front of her.

"You guys work well together," Cid said honestly. "You should work together more often."

In response, Y/n breathed a scoff under her breath. The boys turned their heads to look at her, slightly surprised at her reaction. She shook her head in denial.

"Yeah. Like that's ever going to happen," Y/n rolled her eyes at the notion.

Without hesitation, she spun around on the heels of her feet in order to head towards the door. She purposely bumped into Tech's shoulder a little too harshly. She left the room with the door closing behind her.

"What's wrong with her?" Cid scoffed. She looked at the rest of the squad for some form of explanation, but none of them said anything. "Fine! Be all quiet and mysterious. See if I care," Cid said.

By the time the Bad Batch left Cid's office, Y/n was nowhere to be found in the bar. They went to sit down at the bar so they could order drinks to celebrate another successful mission. They sat in complete silence, thinking about what transpired during the mission.

"Where do you think she's gone?" Echo wondered.

Though they never pulled missions together, the Bad Batch knew that the pilot worked for Cid and was stationed at Ord Mantell. They had seen her quite often over the past few months. They had grown familiar of her. And now they worried about her.

"The odds are that she returned to her flat," Tech explained. He pushed the bridge of his googles up to be more secure on his face. He kept his focus on his data pad.

"Probably," Hunter shrugged his shoulders. "But it's late. Which means it's dark out."

"Astute observation," Tech claimed sarcastically. He gave a single nod, but didn't take his eyes off his data pad.

"And she's walking back to her flat...at the edge of town...late at night," Hunter further explained.

"She will be fine," Tech stated. He knew where he was going with this. "She is always saying how she can take care of herself and doesn't need our help. Why would that change now?"

The other members remained silent. They turned their heads to take quick glances at one another. With a silent agreement, Hunter rose to his feet and went to stand by Tech. He roughly grabbed his shoulders and hoisted him out of his seat, much to his dismay.

"Go find her. Make sure she gets home safe. And apologize to her," Hunter ordered.

"I do not see why I have to be the one to apologize when I did noth--" Tech began. He was quickly cut off.

"Tech," Hunter said in a warning tone of voice. He crossed his arms over his chest, showing that he meant business.

"Fine," Tech said in defeat. "I will apologize."

With some hesitation, Tech grabbed his helmet and fitted it over his head. He began making his way towards the door of the parlor, leaving the rest of his crew behind. He walked through the deserted streets of Ord Mantell, passing a few shady people in the process.

Now Tech knew that she lived near the edge of town because she had once mentioned it during a conversation. Besides that, Tech really didn't know where to look and simply hoped he'd bump into her before she got home so he'd know she was safe. He passed by a few alleys, peeking through each one briefly.

The Marauder was parked in a hanger bay only a few blocks away from the parlor. Just as Tech passed by the hanger, he heard a familiar voice coming from his very own ship. He backtracked by taking two steps backwards. He peered into the hangar bay to glance at his ship.

Stepping into the bay, Tech tilted his head to the side in slight curiosity. The right wing of the ship began to move downwards until it lay completely horizontal. A few seconds later, Y/n began descending down the ramp with a toolbox in hand. She walked over to the wing of the ship.

Upon seeing her, Tech sharply inhaled. He felt the back of his throat close up and his shoulders tensed at his sides. He hesitantly took a few steps forward, fiddling with his fingers nervously.

Reaching upwards, Y/n placed the single toolbox onto the flat surface of the ship's wing. She proceeded to grab onto the wing before hoisting herself up onto it. She climbed to the center of the wing to assess the damage inflicted in the crossfire.

At this point, Y/n had no idea that he was also in the hanger bay with her. She opened the toolbox, rummaging through to find the right tool. The damage done to the right wing was a massive gaping hole with burnt edges from the fire. It would eventually need a panel welded to cover it up again. But for now, she focused on the internal repairs.

Thankfully, from the assessment, nothing major had been hit. A few bolts had gotten loose and a few parts needed to be replaced. She focused on that for now.

After grabbing a socket spanner, Y/n leaned down to place her arm into the gaping hole of the wing. It went so far down that her chest was practically pressed against the surface of the wing. She used the spanner to tighten some bolts.

"What...are you doing?" Tech decided to finally announce his presence. He stepped forward until he stood in the light coming from the opening of the hanger bay.

Upon hearing that familiar voice, Y/n only rolled her eyes to herself. She continued her work as she preferred to focus on repairs rather than on him. She grunted softly, making sure that first bolt was nice and tight.

"What do you want Tech?" Y/n wondered. She pulled her arm out of the hole to assess her work. She didn't even bother to glance towards him, knowing he would have sent her a look of disapproval for working on his ship.

Slowly, Tech began to lower his gaze to the floor. He contemplated his next words carefully, fighting the urge to lash out at her for meddling with his ship. He liked things to be a certain way and would have much preferred if he did the actual repairs. Now Tech didn't want to fight with her so he changed his approach.

"I analyzed that you left the parlor on your own and thought it would be better if I accompany you back home," Tech explained. She huffed at his answer.

"I've told you before," Y/n began. "I can--"

"Take care of yourself," Tech finished. He adjusted the lenses of his goggles though he still wore his helmet. He noticed how she fell silent. "Yes, I've gathered that much."

"Why are you really out here?" Y/n wondered. She went to lean down again in order to tighten more bolts.

"I...could ask you the same," Tech replied slowly. He honestly felt like this was the first civil conversation they had ever had.

"I wanted to make some repairs on your precious ship since it was apparently my fault," Y/n claimed. Her tone sounding a little harsher now. She tightened two more bolts in the process.

"That is not what I meant," Tech interjected. He took a step forward. He gazed up at her figure perched on the wing, attempting to reason with her. "I was...caught up in the moment. Shouldn't have said those things," Tech confessed quietly.

"Well, don't worry. As soon as I finish up these repairs, I'll leave and you'll never have to see me again," Y/n responded.

For some reason, Tech couldn't combat a response to her comment. He simply nodded his head understandingly. He lowered his gaze to stare down at the ground and allowed her to finish her repairs in silence. He thought for some time how he could fix this relationship since it wasn't his strong suit. Fixing things was more his style.

"Blast," Y/n's voice pulled him out of his train of thought. He glanced up at her.

The sleeve of her blue flight suit had gotten in the way of her repairs. She had rolled her sleeves up to keep the material out of her way, but the sleeves continued to fall back down to her wrists every time she placed her arm in the hole. She pulled back and rose to her feet.

Without hesitation, Y/n's hands flew to the top button of her flight suit. She began to undue the buttons in which she revealed the black tank top underneath. All the while, Tech studied her carefully as her nimble fingers worked steadily. His pupils dilated behind those goggles of his.

Upon reaching her waistline, Y/n had stopped unbuttoning and shrugged the suit off her shoulders. She tied the sleeves around her waist. She dropped to her knees to continue working without the distraction of her clothes getting in the way.

Slowly, Tech raised his hand to the side of his head and clicked the bottom to save the recording to the drive. He records everything and he was certainly glad he recorded that. He wanted to revisit the recording later for his own 'research' purposes.

"There," Y/n sighed. She sat back on her knees, wiping her dirty hands on the pants of her flight suit. "Repairs are finished."

Naturally, Y/n began to pack away the tools she used and placed them back into the box. She closed the lid of the toolbox, tossing it over the edge of the wing for it to land on the ground with a thump. She then proceeded to jump down off the wing of the ship, landing a little hard so her knees buckled slightly.

Just like she promised, Y/n had every intention of leaving the hanger bay so that they'd never have to see her again. She went to walk away, but just as she passed beside him, Tech reached out and grabbed her forearm. She halted in her steps.

Neither of them could look at each other. She felt his gloved fingers digging into her bare skin, but not hard enough that it would leave marks. She slowly turned to look at him, but he kept his head down.

"I...really came here to apologize," Tech confessed. When Tech lifted his gaze to meet her face, he saw how her eyebrows went up in slight surprise. It definitely caught her off guard.

"I see," Y/n thought about his words carefully. She shifted her balance from one foot to the other. "So all those things you said back on Cassander where just...what?"

He closed his eyes, seriously regretting everything he said. "Like I said earlier, in the moment, I was incredibly frustrated with you."

"Because I wouldn't give up the controls?" Y/n said flatly.

"No, because I recognize that my levels of dopamine are elevated when I'm around you and I distance myself from you in order to prevent that from happening,” Tech confessed before he could even stop himself.

But now, hearing what he just said, Tech quickly averted his gaze away from her. He was thankful to be wearing his helmet so she wouldn't see how bright his cheeks had gotten. He released his grip on her arm, letting it fall back down to his side.

For once, Y/n actually understood what he said. Her eyebrows rose in surprise at this sudden confession. She definitely did not expect him to blurt out his emotions that night, especially after their fight on the ship. She knew better than to tease him at a time like this.

"I-I don't understand why," Tech said rather sadly. That was the first time that he'd spoken those words out loud.

What broke her heart was the tone of defeat laced with his words. It told her that he'd been wrestling with these foreign emotions and thoughts for some time. He didn't know how to react around her and so he acted with defense. He pushed those feeling away, fighting against it.

Hesitantly, Y/n lifted her hands to the sides of his helmet. She went to remove his helmet slowly, revealing his face to her for the first time today. She tossed the helmet to the side without a care in the world, but he still refused to meet her gaze.

"You are probably repulsed by me," Tech began. "From the way I treated you and the words I said to--"

But Tech wasn't able to finish that sentence. Because Y/n had taken his face in her hands and leaned upwards to press her lips against his own. He froze in his place.

His eyes were wide open in surprise. His hands were elevated on either side of him because he didn't know what to do with them. He could feel the softness of her lips still against his own. Before Tech had the chance to process what was happening, Y/n pulled away from him.

The two of them were standing so close together; the chests being pressed against one another's. Their breath mingled as their noses bumped together once or twice. He glanced down at her lips because he wanted nothing more than to taste them once more.

His hands found their way down to her hips with one hand sneaking around her lower back. He pressed that hand into her back which brought her body even closer to his. She released a small gasp.

"Apology accepted," Y/n whispered to him. She played with the edge of the plastoid armor on his chest. "And I'm sorry for the way I acted towards you."

"Why cyare?" Tech wondered. He raised his hand to the side of her face, tucking a single strand of hair behind her ear. He held his hand against her cheek.

"I should have given up the controls. You are the better pilot and it is your ship," Y/n explained with a shake of the head.

"I am not the better pilot," Tech stated firmly.

There was a moment of silence between them. "I can't make split second decisions and calculations like you do when you're flying."

"Well, I've never done the Kessel Run." Tech argued back playfully. He smiled down at her. "At least, not in twelve parsecs."

"Fourteen," Y/n corrected him. "I did it in fourteen."

"Fine. Fourteen," Tech caved in.

Slowly, Tech tilted his head to the side and began to lean down with every intention of kissing her again. But the two of them were interrupted when someone cleared their throat over by the entrance of the hanger bay. The two of them quickly pulled apart and turned to face whoever had interrupted them.

The other members of the Bad Batch stood looking at them near the entrance of the hanger. It was initially Hunter who had cleared his throat to garner their attention; he stood with his arms folded across his chest just as a disapproving father would. Beside him, Wrecker and Omega were practically squealing with each other. They couldn't contain their excitement. And Echo averted his gaze in an awkward manner.

"Care to explain yourselves?" Hunter hinted. He glanced between the two of them with a playful smirk on his face.

"I think they finally confessed that they like each other," Wrecker interrupted. His words coming out louder than anticipated. He nudged Echo who stood beside him.

"You think?" Echo glanced at him.

"It's exciting, isn't it?" Omega smiled at them.

Meanwhile, Tech quickly collected his helmet off the ground and placed it over his head once again. He hoped it would cover the blush creeping up his neck to his face. He knew he wouldn't hear the end of the taunting from his brothers anytime soon.

"Well boys. It looks like we got another member on our crew," Hunter said slowly. "Welcome to the Bad Batch."

[stellarbit]

I loooove your tbb fics! Can I pretty please request a pervy tech fic? Like anywhere between a bit awkward kinda pervy to full weirdo :))

Word Count: 6.4k Pairing: tech x fem!reader Warnings: voyeurism, piv, creampie, panty fetish, peeping tom, exhibitionism, breeding kink Summary: Tech discovers a night time hobby of yours, one he doesn't realize is solely for him ps: imperfect proofreading

As your neighbor, Tech was aware of some of your avenues for relaxing. Your patio was often strewn with evidence of projects and hobbies- an underused hammock full of blankets and books, altered clothing strung up to dry, tubes of paint, and even a few tools from when you swindled Tech into teaching you how to repair your comm devices. Hobbies that, as seen by your failure to repair said devices, were often unfruitful.

It wasn’t uncommon for you to show up unannounced to the Batch’s home with a dinner invitation. Each time you’d have a feast prepared big enough to feed a family of Wreckers. Tech learned those were the worst weeks for you.

Some of your other outlets were less obvious, and by all means too private, for most to notice. Then again, most didn’t have a direct view into your bedroom. A view you often left unguarded and on full display.

Tech couldn’t blame you for not realizing your vulnerabilities. Afterall, his sight line was little more than a sliver. More than enough to witness you and your more nocturnal hobbies.

The first time he witnessed you was by chance while calibrating his visor. Its sensors picked up on movement coming from the direction of your home. There was a small bit of light coming from your bedroom, but everything was still - you weren’t even in sight.

Until you walked by your window in a robe. You walked to your bedside, just at the periphery of his view, and began digging through your night stand. With your back to him, you straightened out, tossed whatever item you found on the bed, and dropped your robe.

You wore only panties.

Up to that point, Tech only ever saw a naked female human through the screen of his datapad. Between battle and traveling with his brothers, he’d hardly even been alone with a female. 

Tech rushed to his window, zooming in enough to see the freckles of your back. In person and in motion - you were breathtaking.

When you revealed your front Tech nearly passed out. An ache bloomed in his pants so suddenly, his hand slipped over his crotch. He’d applied pressure to ease the ache and unintentionally replaced it with pleasure.

As you climbed into bed, Tech noted every bit of you that jiggled and the shadows that accentuated your curves and committed them all to memory. After cozying into your bed, you licked your fingers in a way that dried Tech’s mouth. Your fingers slipped into your panties and began rubbing circles beneath the fabric.

The noises that followed were lewd, low, and put a rhythm in Tech’s hand. From outside of his pants, Tech worked himself in time with the lazy circle of your hands. Your hips gyrated, head arched into your pillow, and your free hand found a nipple.

That night Tech didn’t get to find out what exactly it was you’d brandished from your night stand. He didn’t realize how close he’d edged until you pinched yourself and curled forward on a moan. The sound of you shuddered through him and pushed him into ecstasy without even taking himself out of his pants.

Instantly, Tech receded into his room feeling more exposed than you actually were. Panting, Tech fell onto his bed and plucked his helmet off. He twisted it to face him and, as he expected, found it wasn’t recording. A mistake he wouldn’t make twice.

Then again, Tech reasoned it was most likely something he wouldn’t see twice.

The whole experience made bumping into you the next day all the more jarring. He’d been too lost in his datapad to notice Hunter was no longer leading him through the busy street. Hunter stepped off the path to tend to Omega and only a few steps later you and Tech collided. 

You’d been equally as distracted, landing you both on the ground with you sprawled out over Tech. He lay beneath you, stunned and overtly aware of how you teetered over his leg. The sweet spot between your legs was pressed tight against his thigh.

Tech wanted to grip your hips and roll you against him just to hear the sounds you made the night before up close. He settled for sitting forward and letting gravity slide you against him.

Embarrassed, you steadied yourself by his shoulders, laughing, “Bet you wish you had your armor on now.”

“It crossed my mind.” He said, though he was sure your intentions for the armor differed from his. It was going to be difficult to hide the amount of blood rushing to his groin - an issue a well placed codpiece would have nullified.

His urgency to get the both of you back up grew with the ache in his cock. Pulling you against him, he used his military finesse to haul you upright. Taking advantage of the situation, and a risky gamble along with it, he held you against him as he lowered you to your feet. Your pelvis and abdomen brushed his groin and he could only hope you didn’t notice anything else.

“Are you alright?” He angled his head around you, trying to spot any bumps or scrapes.

Your hands slipped from his shoulders, resting on his chest with a light pat. “Perfectly alright.” After another few moments of standing in his arms, you craned your head back with a coy smile. “Tech?”

His name in your mouth turned his insides liquid, rendering his usual composure less certain.. “Yes?”

“You can let go now.”

The firm grip he had on your ass fully registered and in an instant his hands were in the air. He didn’t blurt out an apology, it was an innocent mistake - or at least he knew he could pass it off as one. One that, now that he got a feel of you, he fully intended to make again.

Hunter and Omega walked up beside the two of you, further breaking Tech’s focus. Looking between you, Hunter smirked, “You two take a tumble?”

You kept Tech’s eyes a moment longer, then shifted a pleasant smile on Hunter and Omega, “Just me being clumsy.”

“Hunter,” Omega pulled at Hunter’s arm, turning an excited eye on you, “Can she come tonight?” That caught your full attention, you invited them over far more often than was reciprocated. 

“That’s up to her,” Hunter replied, eyes still twinkling with mild amusement at the earlier scene.

Glancing at Tech for some cluing in and getting nothing, you amusedly asked, “And what would that be?”

Omega bounced in place, excitedly telling you about a game night Shep and Lyanna had planned. While it sounded like a lovely time, you had to turn her down.

You crouched to Omega’s eye level, “Thanks Omega, but I have a quiet night in planned.” With a reassuring squeeze of her shoulder, you promised, “Next time though.”

Tech had fully planned on participating in the game night, and was even looking forward to being the ultimate victor, but his plans changed the moment he heard yours. That night, Omega tried her best to convince her brother to follow through yet he remained firm.

He excused himself from a night out under the guise of needing to address a technical malfunction in the home, a pretext no one had questioned given his usual dedication. Yet, there he was, not soldering wires or calibrating sensors, but dimming the lights of his domicile to feign vacancy.

You were under the impression the Batch wouldn’t be home and Tech intended to keep it that way. If you risked discovery while they were home, he was desperate to find out what you’d do with more privacy.

Before that he needed to learn what was in your nightstand and only had a limited window of opportunity to do so. Where you were, he wasn’t certain, but Omega, Hunter, and Wrecker left for Shep’s and your lights were out. Just enough cover for him to get in through your window.

He stood near your bed, clenching his fists as the vision of you contorting flashed through him. Pushing through the temptation of the memory, he pivoted to the nightstand only to pause when he felt something beneath his foot.

Tech stepped back, knelt, and plucked up a pair of familiar underwear. The same as you’d worn the night before. The material was thin, soft, and slightly damp. He’d done enough follow up reading last night to know why.

He was about to examine them closer when the sudden sound of your front door sliding open jolted him back to reality. On instinct, he ducked low, slipping out the window just in time to avoid being caught. Outside, Tech hid in the shadows, his breath shallow as he peered past your curtains. He still had, unintentionally, your garments in hand.

You came into your room faster than he’d expected, flipping on the light and immediately shedding your outerwear. Mindlessly, Tech rubbed the pair he had between his thumb and forefinger as he watched you leave a trail of clothing until only panties left.

Padding over to your bedside, you leaned over your nightstand, giving Tech a full view of the thin strip of fabric between your legs. Without thought, Tech brought your panties to his face and took in the scent of you, wishing he was experiencing it firsthand. 

When you turned, he had to slide back an inch just to avoid your eyes. Just as he’d done, you paused at your nightstand. Something was off to you. The realization dawned slowly, and your movements stilled entirely when you noticed the absence of your underwear on the floor.

As you turned slightly, looking out the window with suspicion, Tech held his breath. He felt a rush of anxiety as you slowly drew closer, until your suspicion gave way to a smile. You held a little device in your hand Tech didn’t recognize even as you sauntered over.

Your focus was beyond him on the empty home next door. And by Tech’s calculations you were looking directly at his room.

You stood in a blind spot for Tech. He had to retreat far enough that he couldn’t see anything but your silhouette in the light. Tech watched your shadow hold onto the window frame, heard a sudden buzzing, and ached as you touched the device to your body.

On contact your entire body flinched from anything but pain. He slowly lowered your underwear to his lap. The sinful sounds coming from you puppeted Tech into carefully undoing his pants to expose himself. 

With your panties in hand, Tech gripped himself as he continued to watch your shadows move with your escalating noises. In a way, he felt close to you beyond his proximity. He glanced down at the soft fabric smoothing over his cock, remembering why they were damp and how you’d looked pleasuring yourself.

Looking back to your shadow, he nipped every urge to reveal himself. He knew nothing about approaching this situation or how he’d convince you into partnering with him. And though he knew he wouldn’t resort to it, he did contemplate begging.

You’d been fantasizing about Tech since his squad first arrived and, although he seemed to show little interest in you, you kept a keen eye on him. You’d noticed your underwear weren’t where you thought you left them. As opposed to concern, a desperate idea clouded you.

What if he finally spotted you?

For some time you’d been on an exhibitionist streak, willing Tech to just look your way. You knew it was a long shot and it still heated your blood. Perhaps curiosity had gotten the better of him.

Your grip on the window frame was the only thing keeping you on your feet as you notched up the setting on your vibrator. You were too wrapped up in a fantasy of Tech’s hand at your clit to keep your eyes open until the fantasy positioned him behind you.

Just the idea of him penetrating you took you to the cusp of release and tossed you over. As the heat in your coil boiled over, you curled forward, barely staying up right and moaning loud enough that, had he been home, Tech would’ve definitely heard you.

A plea to the vision of Tech spilled from you, “Oh, right there, yes! I’m cumming for you, Tech.”

In normal conversation, your saying his name distracted him. Calling to him, pleading for him, instantly ruined his composure and his orgasm quickly followed yours. He came into your panties, working hard to keep his breathing quiet despite the ecstasy fogging him.

Exhausted, you slumped onto the window pane. You leaned back, eyes drooped shut and a lazy smile lilting your lips. On a sigh, you shrugged and shoved off. As Tech began tucking himself away, he leaned around the window in hopes to catch one last glimpse of you.

Just in time, he caught the tail end of you stripping your underwear off, leaving them where they fell, and walking out of your room.

Tech did a quick risk analysis, weighed his options, and quickly reached over the threshold of your window. He snatched the garment from the floor and slipped into the night.

He returned well before his siblings returned, careful to keep the lights dim as to not raise your suspicions beyond what they already were. Tech couldn’t help himself from checking on your movements, disappointed to find you clothed and casual, eager to relive the moment you called for him.

It became a game for Tech, one of piecing together the patterns of your schedule to catch you alone

Weeks later, in the comfort of your home, Tech helped you repair some comm devices. One in particular, tied to your most incessant client, immediately came to life with an angry message of dissatisfaction and a new deadline. 

Stress pushed you over the edge and unfortunately, now conveniently for him, in front of Tech. You almost threw the device against a wall, a knee jerk response that broke the device in the first place, but Tech intercepted it.

“If you’d like my continued assistance,” Tech scolded, setting the device on the table between you. “I’d advise against immediately rendering my repairs useless.”

You didn’t apologize, choosing rather to slump down in your chair with your head on the table. Mumbling into the wood grain you said, “I should’ve just asked you to do this tomorrow.”

Tech set about fixing the last device, sparing you a quick glance. “You can always reply to clients tomorrow.”

A long, low groan came from you as you pushed back into your chair. “Always tomorrow. There’s always something tomorrow.” Leaning with your elbows on the table, your head fell into your hands. “Even on a day off, I’m constantly stressed.”

Tech looked up from his repairs, twirling his spanner to point in your direction. “If you do not learn how to manage your stress, your cortisol levels will quickly become a detriment to you both physically and mentally.”

By the time Tech finished his nagging, your head rested in one hand and while your other strummed out an impatient rhythm. Fully irritated, you sassed back, “Tech, I’m beyond that point by now.”

“Then I suggest you focus on finding a suitable outlet.” Tech shrugged, lowering his visor and spinning his spanner back into position.

And, as your neighbor, Tech was already aware of some of your avenues for relaxing. Some that he was eager to encourage.

With the final repairs almost finished and seeing an opportunity to spend another evening in your company, Tech set aside his spanner and removed his helmet. 

As he gathered his things, Tech said, “I think the rest can wait until tomorrow. You should get some rest.” 

Almost on cue, Omega came through your front door, bounding over to where you and Tech sat. 

Bouncing with energy she shook your arm excitedly. “Game night at Shep’s! You’ll come, won’t you?”

Your promise to Omega snuck up on you, having completely slipped your mind for weeks. Hating to disappoint her, but exhausted all the same, you massaged your temples and sighed.

“I’m sorry, Omega. I have a lot of work - not tonight.”

She immediately deflated, pouting. “Ahh, you work too much.” Narrowing a look at Tech she muttered, “Both of you. Tech’s been holed up most evenings too.” 

A sneaking suspicion crept up your spine and, as if he felt it too, Tech stiffened. You’d always noticed that the home was rarely left with only one of the Batch and you’d never noticed Tech alone in the evenings - you knew because you always looked for him.

Lifting your head from your hands you smiled innocently at Tech, who was pointedly looking anywhere but at you. “I didn’t realize.” You mumbled.

“Why else would the lights be on when we’re out?”

You kept your eyes steady on Omega, unwilling to let her in on the growing secret between you and Tech. Those lights were rarely on at nights without someone inside.

You chose to roll your shoulders as lazy ‘I don’t know’ as opposed to answering, your eyes sliding to Tech who was busying himself to follow Omega out the door. 

Omega gave you a poor, pitying look, gripping your shoulder as if to imbue you with strength. “You know where we are if you need a break.”

Humming, you barely heard her, too focused on thinking back on all the small sounds outside your window, misplaced items, and creeping feelings. The two clones were making their exit - Tech his escape - as you quickly slid from your chair and a comm device hidden in your palm.

Without permission, you lunged on Tech and slipped your arms around his torso. Under the guise of a thankful gesture, you tucked the device into one of his many pockets. It was only up to the Force if he’d notice.

You pulled back and held his upper arms for one last smile. “I appreciate everything, Tech,” you finished, keeping your smile warm but your eyes sharp, searching for any hint of reaction to the small device now concealed on him.

Tech paused, his body rigid under your touch for a moment before he managed a stiff nod. "Of course," he replied, his voice as neutral as the mask he often wore. But beneath that mask, you caught a fleeting glance of surprise, or perhaps suspicion.

As Tech turned to leave, his usual movements seemed slightly off, a subtle indication that your actions might have unsettled him. He made no sign of noticing the device, but you knew better than to assume anything with Tech.

The two left and you settled into planning your approach for the night. It was risky, bordering presumptuous, to assume Tech had been watching you all those nights. More than anything it was exciting. It was everything you’d been vying for.

Carefully, you monitored the Batch’s movements until Hunter, Wrecker, and Omega left for Shep’s. Different from other nights, the lights stayed on. 

A smile hit you as you added another piece of evidence towards Tech being caught. The lights in the majority of the house were on, sans the lights in Tech’s room. The sensation of being watched, residual or otherwise, whispered to you again.

You kept your comm device close as you set your plan in motion. Dressed in your evening robe, you rested against your open windowsill. Mindful of maintaining a casual air, you attempted to relax into the space by letting the night air brush your skin. Deliberately, you lifted one leg to rest on the sill, allowing the fabric of your robe to drape away enticingly from your thighs.

The fantasy of exposing yourself to Tech versus the very real possibility almost choked your plans. Still, the temptation was too great and your fingers found their way between your thighs.

Pleasure dissolved any remaining apprehension as you fixed your eyes on Tech’s room. Was he watching right now? You always looked for the red glow of his goggles, its absence always the reminder that your imagination was likely getting away from you.

As your core warmed and the heat of your arousal bolstered you, you pulled your comm device to your face. On baited breath, you activated the device and, as if speaking too loudly would unravel your hopes, quietly said, “Tech.”

His name echoed as if the relay was nearby. You froze, attempting nonchalance as you repeated yourself. Once again there was an echo. One that was much closer than you anticipated. 

Cautiously slow, you scoped the area outside your home all the way to Tech’s empty window. Your heart rate nearly burst your eardrums until Tech’s voice nearly stopped it altogether.

Tech cringed as he sighed, “I am to your left.”

You twisted sharply, finding Tech within reaching distance and shaking his head in his hand. Excitement trembled through you as he lifted his head to meet your eyes.

His expression was a delicate mix of dejection and frustration. “You slipped it on me when you hugged me, didn’t you?”

“You caught me.” You couldn’t hide the humor you found in your own words.

Not one to let things drag and ready to extradite himself from the situation, Tech got to his feet to excuse himself. All thoughts of escape vanished when his eyes inevitably fell to your lap. Your hand was no longer in the mix, but your robe remained open.

He only allowed himself a glance at your exposed sex before meeting your eyes again, now with a glint in them. Since discovering your nighttime habits, Tech planned for an array of your reactions should he be discovered. None of them involved outright glee.

You extended a hand to him, a silent request for assistance. Tech accepted, noting the hand he accepted had been the one between your legs. He assisted you to your feet, and when he tried to let go, you tightened your grip, holding him in place. 

With a small step back, you gave another silent request - another he accepted.

Tech followed your lead, ducking in through the window and breaching the space he’d spent so long cataloging. In the moment though, his focus was only on you as he tried to gauge your thoughts. 

You were smiling despite discovering him in such a compromising position. In fact, he noted, you were in a similarly compromising position and yet you carelessly floated past him. He turned with you, surprised to see you drawing your curtains.

“I thought you preferred them open.” He quipped.

You paused, your hands still on the curtains, and looked back over your shoulder with a coy smile. “Only if I think it’s you looking in,” you murmured, sending a shiver of delight through him.

Your response straightened his posture. It’d been a challenge, but Tech had long accepted that he was a part of your sexual fantasies. Being the keystone of those fantasies was never even a consideration for him. 

Puzzled by his own oversight and with a pang of wounded pride, he asked, genuinely curious, “Might I ask when you discovered me?”

“Just now.” Your brevity and upbeat tone enticed Tech to follow you as you stepped past him. A shrug of your shoulders drifted your robe farther down your shoulders. 

“It was always just me hoping, but-” you paused as you climbed onto your bed, the movement causing your robe to ride up just enough to tease Tech. You settled back against your pillows with a contented sigh and continued, "learning you’ve been sneaking around in the dark certainly aided my suspicions."

Feeling an ounce of shame, Tech’s shoulders fell slightly with his confidence but shored up immediately. 

At some point, Tech had convinced himself that your exhibitionism, while mildly on display, was likely something not intended for a true audience. In fact, outside of his name on your lips in the throes of pleasure, he’d rarely received your sole attention.

Yet the more of your smile he saw the more sure he was that he’d been wrong about all of it. And, for once, Tech was thrilled to be wrong.

“Are you going to join me?” The soft question brought Tech back to the present, the foot you outstretched to him inviting to come closer. His brown eyes raked up the soft skin of your leg all the way to where you propped yourself against the pillows.

You swallowed, eyes wavering for a moment. “Unless this is too much.”

His lips perked into a subdued, cocky smile. You were a vision just for him. One more that became more unexpected with each breath. His fingers ached to explore every inch of your skin.

Tech took the final step onto your bed, smoothing his hand over your foot and up your shin as he moved in on you. “Oh, this is far from too much.” 

As he climbed towards you, you settled further into your pillows, bracing yourself for Tech. “And I’d be remiss to not witness up close what I’ve studied from afar.”

Settling in close, Tech sat back on his feet, and adjusted his goggles as he took you in. Head tilted down, Tech looked up through his goggles as his free hand trailed up your inner thigh. When his fingers were inches from the apex of your thighs, his other hand quickly followed suit. 

Each second Tech strung out between you only enflamed your urge to shove him back and find out exactly what he tasted like. But you patiently waited, feeling your mounting arousal beginning to leak out of you for the technician. 

Tech leaned in, those brown eyes pinning you in place as his fingers pressed into you and spread your legs to accommodate him. The sudden rush of cool air over your wet folds made you realize just how eager you were for Tech.

It took only a second’s glance for Tech to realize the same. He kept his touch light on your legs as he sat back again, this time with you on full display for him. Tech removed his gloves, caught your eyes again and cocked his head to the side in amusement.

“I never realized patience was your strong suit.” The low, teasing tone of his voice set you on edge

On an aroused shudder, your knees made to squeeze together but Tech was quick to keep them apart. “It appears I spoke to soon.” He commented in the same amused tone. “Why don’t you show me what you’ve been so eager for me to see.”

Your hand was between your legs before his sentence was finished and his hand blocked yours before your could manage more than a light touch. In place of your touch, Tech’s fingers slid over your as he leaned across your lap.

His fingers, more calloused than you expected, pulled a whine from you as he gave you barely there swipes. While he teased you, he explored your night stand. “I hope you’re not being shy now,” He said as you heard drawer shut and he came back to your front.

Tech drifted close enough to consume your entire line of sight. As he spoke, Tech dipped two cool digits into you, coaxing you forward. His calm exterior cracked when he first moved his fingers in an exploratory curl.

He swallowed, eyes dipping to where his fingers disappeared inside you. Hesitation, unsureness, flashed through him. He cleared his throat, meeting your eyes and making another slow curl of his fingers, this time with more pressure.

“How does that feel?” His question, accented by a break in his voice, told you this was something new for him. Your response came in clenching around him, fueling his confidence.

On a rushed, hushed, breath you pleaded with the man, “Keep going.”

“I plan on it. But first,” Tech paused, placing a familiar object in your hand. “I’d like you to use this.”

A new wave of blood flushed through you as you followed suit. Maintaining eye contact, you switched the vibrator on, the sound hitching Tech’s breath. The feel of it, the shock it sent through you, rinsed the tension from his shoulders. 

Only the hum of the toy hung in the inches between you. With every motion of his fingers, your breathing hastened. Tech adjusted his touch with your reactions, but when he saw a small smile come to you Tech knew he’d found something good.

Breathlessly, Tech choked out, “I’d say that feels good.”

He added pressure to his rhythm and your patience immediately wore out, tearing your resolution in half as you angled your lips up to his. The moan that came from him set something loose in you. The both of you moved in on the other, your hands barely fitting between your bodies.

His lips parted the moment your tongue brushed him. For a moment, his mouth stayed open and still, only his tongue twitching as he let yours roam over his until his lips closed around your tongue, gently sucking on the soft flesh.

The sensation melted you, giving Tech the chance to roll you onto your back. Tech fell with you and never broke the kiss. There was no hesitation remaining in Tech, only hunger and a desperation to hear your next noise.

A warm, mounting pressure inside you finally made you break away from Tech and toss the toy aside. Turning just enough to pull your lips from his you said, “Tech, I need you.”

Tech didn’t ease up on tasting you, laying kisses down your chin to the crook of your neck. Between kisses he responded, “You have me.” The hand you pushed against his groin had him rolling his weight against you on a moan. 

“All of you,” You insisted. 

Tech pulled back sharply, suddenly slowing the momentum between you. His eyes were wide, darting between yours. “You want-”

Your hands cut him short as they pulled in by his pants. “Yes.” The word was a demand.

In some shade of shock, Tech gently pushed himself off of you while easing his fingers from you. On a brave inhale, Tech’s hands took place of yours, freeing you to relax back. A flush singed his cheeks and tips of his ears while he kept his eyes down on the task at hand.

You watched while he freed himself, casually slipping out of your robe to bare all of yourself. When he was one motion away from doing the same, his eyes found you again. You felt it, the mutual anticipation for this very moment.

His eyes drifted over you, devouring the feeling of seeing you nude just for him. Tech’s eyes followed your hand as it moved to the bud between your legs. You rolled one finger over your clit and he met your gaze again.

“You are as breathtaking up close as I imagined.”

A swell of heat met your touch at his words. You were certain of it - this man was going to completely undo you.

He bumped his goggles into place with a knuckle, eyes falling to the small distance between you. “There is one problem.”

You leaned up slightly, confusion, and a drop of horror, coming over you. In a mix of impatience and worry you asked, "Like what?”

Tech bit his lip, finally revealing himself to you. “I don’t believe I’m going to fit,” he confessed.

It didn’t take you long to see why he’d think that. You’d fantasized plenty of times about this man, what he’d taste and feel like, and you’d imagined a dozen times what his cock would look like. You were far from disappointed.

He was long, the length of him extending beyond the hold he had on himself. His girth you hadn’t expected, but it did not disappoint. If he thought two of his fingers was what you could handle, his girth would certainly give him pause about your limit.

A sudden thought stilled you.

“Tech,” you ventured softly. “Is this your first time?” Your question didn’t soften him, but he did pass you a look that was hard to read.

“Is that a negative attribute?”

“No!” You pushed up onto an elbow. Careful not to break the heat between you, you asked, “You want this - you want me, right?”

Tech swept his hand over his cock, pumping himself in response. “Clearly.”

Slowly lowering yourself, you flashed a feline smile at him. “Then you’ll fit.” You stretched a hand out to him, wiggling your fingers in another invitation.

He let you guide him back over you, his expression softening as he caged you below him. You smoothed your hands up his arms to his shoulders, bracing yourself as you gyrated your hips in search of him.

Tech kept himself propped over you, holding your eyes as he brought the head of his cock to you. You both inhaled at the connection. There was no pause, no further reassurances needed, as he pushed past your threshold.

The noises you made mirrored his own as the flared edge of his glans spread you and his length speared you. As always, Tech was at least partially right- his size was more than you’d been prepared for. 

It was a conscious effort to not clench around him and remain relaxed as he slid inside you.

When he could move no further, Tech loosed his breath and ducked his head. He observed the spot you were joined as he shallowly pulled out and thrust back in, deeper this time as if he was seeing just how much he could push.

A mesmerized look came over him as he kept that tempo of short, deep thrusts until you couldn’t hold back anymore. Weeks of anticipation and a wild need to fuck this man made you think you wouldn’t last long when you finally had him. How he pinpointed your sweet spot while fingering you added evidence to the thought.

The way he filled you, stretched you into ecstasy, proved you right. 

Tilting your hips against him, you worked with Tech for longer, faster motions. Drawing closer, you caught him in a kiss that drove his cock deep against your womb. You moaned into the kiss, continuing to roll your hips against him while your clit ached for release.

Mumbling into the kiss you admitted, “Tech, I can’t take much more.”

Tech pulled back just enough to confidently say, “I assumed that was the point.”

Your admission didn’t inspire Tech to stop his work. He picked up his pace again, giving you long, slow thrusts as one hand extended beside you. Gliding his tongue over your lips, he tasted your mouth as you had his. 

His tongue was trailing yours when he squeezed your between you and vibrating pleasure hit your core.

Gasping against him and splayed out on the bed in front of him, only able to arch against the pleasure coursing through you.

“T-Tech!” You called out in warning.

Tech grit his teeth against your scaling release. “Don’t hold back, I won’t either.” He’d been ready from the moment he felt the velvet of your insides.

Unwilling to miss the full view of your orgasm, Tech propped himself up to see you writhing, laid out before him. With one hand Tech positioned your hips towards him  and with the other he kept your toy in place. 

He had yet witnessed your eyes roll back as they did just then. He drove into you until an open mouthed smile bloomed over you and you convulsed around him. His eyes widened, but his pace didn’t slow.

“Are you?”

Wordlessly and avidly you nodded as your orgasm crashed through you. White hot bliss threw stars into your vision. Waves of pleasure broke what little of your composure remained, rendering you dazed and moaning.

It was too much for Tech. Euphoria he’d never experienced broke free inside him and throbbed through his cock. He’d barely been supporting himself on his knees and they all but gave out as he came inside you, spilling his seed against your womb.

Tech attempted to fuck you through his own release, but ended up seated deep inside you, stretching you with each throb of his cock.

Moments went by with only the two of you panting against each other. Your shaky hands wandered to his shoulders, your fingers curling up over his neck and into his, now slightly damp, hair. 

His eyes fluttered shut as he nuzzled into your touch. “That was magnificent.” Tech sighed.

“Sorry it was so quick.” Your voice cracked as you spoke, still pleasantly raw from all of your noises.

Tech shrugged, eyes shut as he said matter of factly, “The end result is all that matters, I suppose.”

“End result is one way to put it.” You chuckled. A small, anxious part of you spoke up, “Tech.”

He blinked away some of his fog as he hummed in acknowledgment, “What is it?”

“I want to do this again,” you whispered up to him.

Tech rolled his hips into you in response, reminding you that he was still inside you and still more erect than you’d expect. “If we are to succeed, that would be the wisest course of action.”

Your brows furrowed, head pushing back into the pillows to search his face. “Succeed in what?”

“Impregnating you, of course.” Tech saw the realization hit you and his expression mirrored your own. “Is that not what sexual relations are ultimately intended for?”

You opened your mouth, but words didn’t come out, only a bubble of giggling. “Not always.”

A renewed flush heated Tech’s face as the misunderstanding dawned him. You’d rarely seen him embarrassed, but found it charming nonetheless.

In a gentle tease, you probed further, “Is that what you intended?”

“Well, I-” Tech uncharacteristically stammered. He gave a little cough, saying, “I didn’t mind the idea.”

“Of breeding me?” You clarified, bringing your legs around him.

Tech rolled his eyes, recognizing your attempts at instigation. “That is one way to put it.”

Teasing or not the idea of it, of Tech wanting that, stirred something in you. Locking him in with his legs you brought him in for another kiss. “Then we should probably go again.”

He huffed a laugh, conceding, “I would say you are correct.”

taglist: @bruh-myguy-what @jetii @baddest-batchers