#drops this grenade and passes out.

[diejager]

I love your Only Human fics 😭😭 I can’t help but think what Monster AU 141/Kortac would do if their only human got hurt during a mission….

A continuation maybe please?

Only Human pt3

Pairing: Monster 141 + König + Horangi x reader

CW: blood, injury, canon-typical violence, gun violence, flash grenade go boom boom, explosion, tell me off I missed any. wc: 2.4k

Only Human masterlist

previous

They fucked up, they really flicked up. It was a simple mission, simple enough that you were sent with only three operators. Alejandro with his witness, slinked between enemy lines, shooting up and creating chaos once he shifted, his large body ripping through enemy lines like a hot knife through butter. Gaz with his aerial insights, flew over trees and spotted the soldiers you were shooting through and giving pointers to where they split up and where they collected. And finally, Horangi, stalking between the buildings, jumping from shadow to shadow with a slow sway of his tail, pouncing on his prey with the stealth of a tiger. 

Laswell had promised that it was a quick in-and-out op, slipping through the village at night and taking out the leading figure of this hastily-made gang that was blocking the transport route between two important, allied towns. The shared intel was that it was a gang of ragtag rebels, raiding police stations within the mass, overwhelming the officers with their vast numbers of followers. They stole police equipment, vests, guns, batons, and ammunition, using them to power through the lines of officers and breaking through blockades built by the townsfolk. 

While they weren’t trained in military warfare or had prior training with specialised weapons, they had the advantage of numbers, overwhelming any joint forces with their vast numbers of rebels. It was nearly astounding how many people were being paid and supported by Russia's wealthy Ultranationalists wanting to disrupt the trading routes and hurt the opposing team by prying them of a source of gas and material. 

The few joint forces had slimmed down their numbers, leaving Task Force 141 to clean it up and take over their base of operation within the region. You were told that their numbers rounded a skeleton crew of twenty men, twenty-five at most. That’s why Price sent you four for quick and efficient disposal of the enemy. 

That’s what Laswell gave you, the information burned into your mind from habitual memorization to ensure that your team would be prepared, and yet the data was wrong. Gaz had reported twice the promised number, not as well armed as you were warned but their number brought a changing tide to your mission. You wanted to turn back, to regroup and form another plan, but everyone was already in place and calling them back could be as much of a risk of being caught as storming in. 

Perhaps that’s why you were all so careful and conscious of the dangers, moving in two, Alejandro and Horangi in one part and you walking under Gaz’s protective shadow. The initial plan was to box them in, working through both exits to snuff out any runaways and once you entered the compound, Gaz would drop down and lead ahead. 

That was the plan, until, of course, all hell broke loose. It was chaotic, they were trigger-happy and within untrained hands, their guns were as leather as a trained one with how quickly they spent their magazine, cycling through one and spraying the wall you used for hiding. Soap’s wild clean-up would’ve been extremely helpful in a time like this; Ghost’s hungry haze would’ve swallowed them all up, opening up a way for you to pass; and König’s reckless and unpredictable shift that sent him into a wild frenzy while he tore through the base. 

Unfortunately, they were back home, the little base they called their own when you first joined, yet you still had experienced and protective soldiers by your side, all special forces. Gaz led you with a strong hand and clear head, stopping at every corner to look at all sides before moving forward and you watched his back, looking out for any enemy rounding back. 

Your situation would be - at best - organised chaos, made from what you were given at the moment, faced with a group over a dozen times and without backup waiting behind. There were hushed orders and observations sent back and forth between your groups, cautious warnings on your side and growls from the other. Nick had been informed in case of any immediate evacuation and Laswell, of the sudden change in the plan. You did your best with what you had, leaving bleeding corpses in your wake, slumped over the bloodied floor and against the stained walls, but you hadn’t expected the rapid change of shift in the enemy. They weren’t such men with guns and knives, they were trained - albeit sloppy - in ferality and ruthlessness, jumping at you and Gaz without a second thought.

Every lunge was met with a bullet, rifles firing at the advancing numbers holding a gun, a knife or both, leaving you with a graze or scrape, the skin under your clothes bristled and bleeding. They flooded like moths to a flame, one taking the place of a fallen, and two other taking his place. You were pushed back to back, Gaz’s wings fluttering in stress between you, fighting the need to cover you in a protective shield of muscle and feather. 

“We’re compromised,” Gaz hissed into the mic, sending the message to any open coms on your connected line. “Victor-01, moving your way.”

“Copy,” Alejandro huffed.

Gaz tried leading you away, feet moving fast and steady around the halls you had to memorise for this Op. He tried to lead you safely, but they swarmed you like flies, appearing from every corner in an unending flood of shouting, thumping and firing. Gaz was bound to get hit at this rate, with his big wings and broader shoulders. It worried you that he’d take a bullet for you - you knew he would, as would the others - and get dangerously hurt. Through one door was a group waiting for you, gun trained forwards and ready to fire, but they were slow, sloppy, and they lacked the training and reflexes of a specialist. 

You had time to push Gaz through a door and into a room, you hid on both sides, hiding from the straight line of fire. You unclipped a flash from your belt, waving it at him to catch his attention. It did and his lips broke into a grin, wild and electric at your idea. You had him count down the seconds, his fingers lowering until he balled his fist, shaking it as you pulled the pin out and threw it down the hall. Veering away from the door, eyes closed tightly and hands around your ears, the flash grenade blew up with a loud, ear-piercing screech. It sent them into a blind panic, weapons falling from their hands to rub the burning pain in their cornea, ears deaf to your quick-moving steps towards them, down they went, like those behind you. 

Adrenaline pumped erratically through your veins, bubbling and warming your body to an uncomfortable heat that had you sweating under your gear. You turned another corner and you were closer to Alejandro and Horangi’s location, meeting up with them was your current objective, to regroup and take over the base in one group. They were just down the path, behind the sprinting men in jeans and t-shirts holding guns like it was a big, heavy toy. You could see their tense shoulders relax when they caught sight of you, guard still up and cautious, but glad that you were safe. 

“Hunter,” Horangi hissed, his figure trembling as his nose twitched under his mask. He stared at your shoulder, the damp jacket stained with your blood. “You broken?”

“No, the adrenaline’s keeping me going,” you nodded back, trying to soothe his worry. Being the 141’s medic, you knew the benefits of adrenaline, it numbed the pain, the cold and the burns, but once you calmed down, you’d feel every little scratch.

You limped out of the building, body leaning against Horangi for support, his tail curled around your thigh and body tense in a possessive mood. He kept glancing your way, his golden eyes swirling with worry, pupils small and attentive to every wince you made. He moved according to your pain, urging you to put more weight on him when you walked on your bad leg, where a bullet shot straight through your thigh, bleeding through the quickly put gauze you covered it with and wrapped tightly in bandages. You promised them that you’d properly patch yourself up in the helicopter while they watched before you worked on them. 

With your body riding off the adrenaline that kept you going for the past fifteen minutes, you jerked and winced when you walked on your left leg, the white bandage around your thigh staining red on the side. You were sure Horangi and Alejandro could smell your blood, or they'd been able to smell it before you even saw them, the irony tang wafting around them like a haze of their failure. The failure to let you get hurt and unable to properly protect you, you could feel the tenseness in their shoulders, their lowered head at your smile and the jerky movement when they moved around, seemingly pulling themselves back from doing something. 

Nikolai waved at your group, ushering you in from his seat, strapped safely with his headset on and communication clear between everyone. With a short affirm from Alejandro, Nik took off, the bird curving to the left when he turned west, towards the UK. You waited until the flight was stable, flying through the air softly and steadily before you opened up your pack, searching for items to clean and reward your wound until you returned to the infirmary. You checked your tourniquet, tightening it when you saw that it was slightly loose, ripping open the wrapping around your leg, you reapplied the gauze, adding pressure to it to stop it from bleeding even more. 

You winced and hissed under their watchful eyes, between Alejandro and Horangi, their tails swaying and occasionally curling around your forearm. Gaz, however much he’d like to sit beside you, to fuss and worry openly about your wounds, sat across from you, strapped in with his wings spread wide across the seats. 

“Looks rough, Охотник,” Nik called to the back, light glinting off his glasses. 

“Nothing new, Nik, you know that,” you replied through the coms, a lop-sided smile curling the corners of your lips.

He cackled, a full-belly laugh that had all of you smiling in your own ways. Nikolai was rambunctious, loyal and a big bear of a man. He was human, the other human in the Task Force apart from you (Laswell might’ve been the one sending you across the earth and gathering information, but she - regrettably - wasn’t truly a member.). 

“Да! I do!”

When you landed, the rest of the TF was already waiting outside, arms crossed and shoulders tense. It seemed they got the news of your Op, showing their displeasure with deep frowns and deeper glares, none directed at you or the hybrids, it was some sort of self-hatred and anger at the person that gave Laswell the intel, their promise of it being factual and not sending them any updates on the case. Laswell, herself, was fairly mad, her stressed face pulled sombrely down. 

Soap and Rudy rushed to you, voices low and tones raspy, they hovered near your group, fussing about the blood that caked Alejandro’s forehead, a slight graze from a rifle’s butt and other bruises from slamming into obstacles; Gaz’s slight pinch in the back from being slammed into a wall by a bulldozing enemy when he ran out of ammo; Horangi’s ripped sleeves, gashes bleeding lightly from attempts at slashing and stabbing knives by inexperienced hands; but what worried them the most was you, limping and hanging from Horangi’s shoulders. 

Your eyes were hooded, equal parts exhausted and blood lost, placing all of your weight on the Haetae hybrid. While your upper half was unscathed - apart from the slight bruises forming on your skin - your leg, wrapped tightly in a tourniquet and bandages drowned in red. The amount of red would’ve been worrying if they hadn’t known you, but you’ve survived far more dangerous and life-threatening wounds, bouncing back with revenge. As truthful as it was, it didn’t stop them from worrying. You might’ve been more resilient than most - hybrids credited their resilience to their human parent - you didn’t have the healing ability of hybrids or the immortality of spectres. 

“ ‘m fine, Rudy,” you smiled, so bright and reassuring when you were the wounded one. “Nothing a few stitches and rest won’t heal.”

“Si, but-”

“Doesn’t mean we’re not worried, love.”

Like his callsign, he walked in on your little group silently, peering over Rudolfo’s shoulders, his warm, brown hues meeting yours. His voice was strained with concern, croakier than when you left this morning, waving at them. Rodolfo moved over when Ghost brought his hand forward, Horangi passed you to him with careful and tender hands so that you could be brought to the infirmary without having to walk. You hooked your arms around Ghost’s neck, arms crossed lazily over his back and chin propped up on his shoulder. He held you against his chest, one arm under your ass and another carefully tucked under your knees, watching your wounded leg without touching it. 

You looked at Price and Laswell from your perch, their hushed discussion with shrugging shoulders and crossed arms, but neither looked pleased with the outcome of your mission. You blinked owlishly when you couldn’t find König beside them, head turning from side to side to find the 6 '10 Austrian hybrid, but you still couldn’t find him. Just as you were going to ask Ghost where König was, a hand reached out to grip your forearm, thick fingers softly rubbing your strained muscle. You were met with a veiled face when you turned, brilliant, red eyes stared at your wounded thigh in distaste, his mind throwing him into the scene of the moment, turning and ripping the men that dared harm you to pieces, bloodied and unrecognisable parts of a human. 

“Hey, König,” you called out, pulling him back from his violent daydream where his eyes turned crimson, glazed with bloodlust and rage, promising doom. “Do you want to come with us?”

“Ja,” he replied moments later, snapping to your face with blank eyes, now his regular, ice-blue colour. “To the infirmary first and mess all later. You need to eat and rest well to heal quickly, Schnucki.”

“What about the-”

“You need to rest, lovie. Let them deal with the debrief,” Ghost’s voice was stern and commanding, ending whatever protests you had. 

As if to prove his point, he turned to face Price, his head nudging you to look at your captain, the imposing and dominating figure of Price’s horned head, thick, swaying tail and powerful wing. Price replied with a quick nod, curt in a way that shut down any voice, landing the hammer on the gravel with a resounding boom. You sighed, grumbling lowly about them worrying too much about a flesh wound, exaggerating your condition (in your mind) and threatening them with insubordination that had your commanding officers glare your way.

next

Taglist: @craxy-person @crowbird @dead-cipher @iwannabealocalcryptid @iizx7y @mxtokko @yeetusspagheetus @capricorn-anon @perfectus-in-morte @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @tallmanlover @distracteddragoness @vxnilla-hxrddrugs @konigsblog @havoc973

[strrykais]

promiscuous💋 [lee haechan]

pairing: clubbing!haechan x afab!reader

word count: 1.3k

summary: in a small club you don’t remember the name of, this wasn’t exactly how you thought it would go but you weren’t exactly the type to complain.

genre: smut, humor

warnings: oral (fem receiving), fingering, unprotected sex, sex in a public place, creampie??(is that a warning) and any other warning i forgot, you get it

playlist: promiscuous- nelly furtado | just dance - lady gaga | PADO- NCT U

authors note: first first official sex written gotta get practice in before i write it for my smau, so sorry if its like bad. im just a girl. next time ill do research or something idk. if there is any mistakes please let me know. i ran through it quickly but could of missed something! hope you enjoy 💋 nct dream masterlist

the hot, sweaty bodies rubbing against you was enough for you to start feeling the 6 shots you took. you needed this night, with work overworking you, your boyfriend of years breaking up with you, so what if you had planned to go home with someone tonight. you were planning on going home with someone. 

“jaemin bought another round. you want in?” renjun says in your ear over the loud music while you two dance together.

“is that even a question?” you shout back grabbing his hand heading out the dance floor to find your other friend you came with.

even though it was a thursday night the club was packed. spotting jaemin talking to the bartender or more like trying to hit on them. you and renjun walk up to him, jaemin's big smile comes to view when he sees you and renjun. 

“hey guys just in time! my friend here-” he says trailing off to look over at the pretty boy.

“that’s jeno.” you laugh out loud slightly pushing him “your boyfriend, you idiot.” you turn to jeno motioning another shot for us. jeno gives you a thumbs up ignoring whatever jaemin is mumbling,

“so you spot anyone you wanna take home?” renjun asks, leaning onto the bar watching the crowd. you turn to copy his position shaking your head.

“a lot of grenades.” a frown taking over your face as renjun shoves you.

“we talked about you calling people 'grenades’ if you don’t find them attractive. it's rude.”  grabbing the shot jeno places out for the both of you, downing it barely making a face.

“it's only rude if they catch me calling them that to their face.” you shrug “is tonight the night we sleep together?” rubbing up on his arm.

rejun pulls a face, swatting your hand away from his arm, “no you're not my type.” he smirks when he sees your face. walking away, you throw your hand out, “but i did find someone who is, catch you later.” he waves you off. 

groaning you turn to face the couple, only for jaemin to have his head on the bar completely passed out.

“what a lightweight seriously” pushing off the bar you decided to walk around and look for someone you could maybe, possibly, at least make out with. while looking around you see someone who looks good from behind. putting on your best smile, you slowly walk to him as he turns to you. your smile drops, eyes in a panic, you frantically search for a way to hide.

in the corner of your eyes you see a door open, you quickly shove the guy back in, shoving him into the small bathroom. body pressed into his as you breathe out, glad you escaped your ex. you hear him clear his throat, you quickly look up to see him looking at you with a smirk. he was hot maybe the bar isnt filled with grenades.

“if you wanted my attention you could’ve talked to me instead of trapping me in the bathroom. this one is new though so i have to give you that.” he smirks, placing his hand on your waist rubbing circle over your dress.

“cute that you think i need to trap you to get your attention.” hand sliding up onto his shoulder giving him a look.

“is this where i think it's going?” his hand reaching out grabbing your face staring down at your lips. 

licking your lips, you nod as he yanks your face into his. lips crashing onto each other, a small whimper escaping. quickly gaining his composure flipping you around so your back was pressed into the wall.  he pulled back as you let out a little whine. gripping the back of his neck trying to tug him to you, he smiles. 

“are you sure you are okay with continuing?” he questioned, you couldn’t help but get even more turned on. quickly nodding your head. he dives into your neck leaving sloppy kisses and light nibbles. you tried not to get too lost in his touch, you could barely hear the loud music outside the bathroom. his large hands roamed your body, every spot he touched was ignited.. after making a mess on your neck he slowly makes his way down to your collarbone giving it a bite. this makes you moan, audioably. 

 “oh,so you like it when i'm a little rough? noted.” he says as he sinks to his knees. he was now looking up at you, his hair a mess from your hands trying to touch every part of him, trying to melt into him. you give a small nod as he lifts one leg over his shoulder, he scoots a little closer where you can feel his hot breath fanning across your soaked panties. 

“please shut up” you say so out of breath from the kisses he was placing on your inner thighs.

“i'm sorry baby what did you say?” 

“please make your mouth useful instead of working my nerves.”

he gently pushes your panties to the side and blows which causes you to jump, but before you couldn't even recover he immediately went to licking. your breathless moans were starting to get louder, your hand flung to his head pushing him closer into you. he worked his tongue so magically. sucking on your clit, causing your back to arc. he slips a finger right into you as he still sucks. quickly as the first he slips a second, a loud moan makes him quicken his pace. your body could barely keep up as you felt yourself cum on his face. he continued licking every drop, slowly exiting his fingers out.

looking at you, bringing those to his mouth and sucking his beautiful long fingers clean of your juices. quickly as you could you reached out to his belt and started unbuckling them. 

“oh someone is eager.” 

“ill leave.”

“no. no i was kidding, baby.” 

grabbing you from behind your thighs, you jump up and wrap your legs around his waist. he slowly drags his cock along your folds. gathering up your juices from your previous orgasm.

“fuckkk you're so wet i can't wait to feel your tight cunt around me.” 

“if you shut up and get on with it may-” words falling short from your mouth and into a moan as he slams right into you. his hands are squeezing your ass as he pushes himself in and out.

“oh my fucking god. oh god.” 

“not my name but i see why it gets confused.” his arrogant tone causes you to tighten around him, moaning out. “fuck you are so tight.” he continues to pound harshly into you. leaning your head against the wall, he takes that chance and starts sucking on your neck. he bounces you up to readjust you, his cock hitting a specific spot inside you causing you to lead out a loud moan. 

“oh fuck imma come” you moan out pulling his hair.

“come for me baby. come right on this cock.” his heated moans hitting your ears. his words trigger your orgasm, his hand flying up to cover your mouth as your eyes squeeze shut. your cunt squeezing him, grunting “imma cum in you kay’” you nod your head, he thrusts one last time harshly into you, releasing his load.

“fuck that was the best sex ive had in a while.” he says slowly sliding himself out of you placing your wobbly legs onto the ground. 

“yeah, same. thanks.” you grab your panties from under your dress pulling them off slowly slipping them into his now buttoned pants. “to remember me.” turning you walk out the bathroom.

“yo dude where the hell have you been. why do you lo-" renjun says, spotting you as you walk away from the bathroom. “oh i see, good work. get his name?” you shake your head and smile. “looks like you just might.” he says, turning away when you feel a hand twist you around. 

“let me get your number please. maybe we can do this again and not in a bathroom.”

“sure. whats your name?” you grab his phone typing in your name and number.

“haechan, lee haechan.” 

“i can see how that gets confused with god. bye haechan, call me.” 

© strrykais

[ashrayus]

PLSSSS MORE FANFIC RECOMMENDATIONS OF JASON TODDDD!

DUDEE!!!! really happy u asked but also omg this got long agaiN who would have thought (!) i added summaries this time tho :)

here is part one of my fic recs XD

andd heres the new ones!! pls give them some love if u read them :D

Dick and Jason:

how lonely to be something that nothing wants to kill by sunlitlemonade

There were blood drops dripping down his fingers to the ground. The puddle was big enough for it to have spread around more than half the tub. His breaths shuddered, they were shallow and waning. But he was breathing and Dick’s world centered around that.

starting strong with Angst go read all of sun’s fics i always die and get revived <333 pls mind the tags on this one

cast on/cast off by hellsreluctantheir

“This is surprisingly non-destructive for Jason,” Dick comments, lightly. In the parking lot, Jason pulls a grenade out of one of his pockets, yanks the pin, and tosses it through the roller door and out of sight, before tearing out of the parking lot in chase of the truck. “Well, for a minute there,” Dick amends. He takes a step back towards the alley the batmobile is parked in, giving Bruce a quick glance. “We following? “No,” Bruce says, as the grenade goes off. “He’s cleared the warehouse. We can get into the office.” Dick sighs again. But Jason knows he can call in if he needs help.

time loop!!! read most of this writer's fics and fell in love with them all,, go read fr

bloodstained by hellsreluctantheir

“I know where the clinic is, asshole,” Jason said. The wad of gauze he was using to keep pressure kept slipping against his shoulder. The knife had caught the space between two panels, split to allow movement. Lucky shot. “Ok, let me make sure you get there without passing out from blood loss,” Dick said, a deliberate evenness to his tone, like he was doing his best to accomodate someone who was being completely unreasonable. Shithead. “I’m not going to pass out,” Jason said, ignoring the fact that he was actually feeling pretty unsteady on his feet. He caught himself with his good shoulder on the entry to the bathroom, took a deep breath. “What would Daddy Bats think if he knew you were here, trying to help me?” “I assume something like, ‘Wow, Dick, you’re such a good brother, trying so hard to make sure Jason is ok even when he’s being a complete idiot about it,’” Dick sniped.

heres another one from them. jasons scars and dick. andd another one next

brothers in arms by hellsreluctantheir

It wasn’t like none of them went undercover. Jason practically lived there. And he’d punch anyone who tried to make it a sob story for him, to cluck over the times he’d been alone in a pit of vipers, act like it was some tragedy. But given half a minute to think about it, Dick somewhere completely cut off from everyone but Bruce, no allies on hand, surrounded by enemies. Angry as he was at the lie, there was something about that he just fucking hated. or Thinking your brother is dead and then finding out he's been alive the whole time really has a way of making you rethink the relationship.

Shelter by Ptelea

Two safe houses, two nights dealing with the aftermath of fear toxin, multiple conversations, several meals. Written for Sholio's September 2020 Comfort Fest for a prompt from Musesfool. Warning-wise, there's nothing graphic here but there are definitely references to past canon trauma for both the characters.

the way they are written here <33

Rotten Fruits by couldyoublameme

“I’m fine,” Dick assured gently, sitting up slightly. “Just a bad night, is all.” It’s a familiar phrase he has used so often. Whenever the addiction crawls back into his mind, a parasite he can never truly get rid of. The family knows what it means. Knows what the ‘bad’ is. Knows what to do. “Oh,” Jason says. “Why?”

absolutely murdered me. pls do mind the tags

You Can Do Better Than That by AlexaAffect

All Jason could hear was his own ragged breathing. He desperately gasped for air, each breath more exhausting than the last and his lungs and throat burned with the effort. In. And, he needed a second longer with every breath he took, out. His arms had been suspended for the last… 15? minutes? Jason had quit keeping track of the time, he’d been too preoccupied trying to hold himself upright, trying to ease his position, switch it up, anything to prolong the guaranteed death. “Red Hood?” That was Dick’s voice. Huh. So they had found him fast enough. Or alternatively; Dick finds a kidnapped Jason shortly before he asphyxiates.

this fic is just oddly comforting to me idk. very precious

Equivalent Exchange by Lysical

Apparently favors don't expire on death. --"What do you want, Dick?" "For you to be happy, Jay." Dick leaned over and pinched his cheek. Jason reached up and swiped at him, scowling. "And world peace."

ADORABLE and fun

Just for Now by Lysical

Jason was back in Gotham and the timing couldn't be worse for him to need assistance on a case. He didn't want to see any of the Bats and he was sure the feeling was mutual. Nightwing was the worst option for Oracle to pick to help him out.

To Reconcile by CasualDanger

“Babs slapped me at your funeral.” Jason goes to laugh, but it’s just a cough and his mouth barely even twitches up. “She hated me in that moment. I mean, really, really hated me, like I did Talia after I found out Damian had died. And I wondered,” his voice cracks, eyes glassy now, “did you hate anyone when I was gone? Because I was gone?”

he ain't heavy, he's my brother by someplacewarm

Dick's been putting off meeting with Jason for a while now, but when a distress call comes through, he has no choice but to answer. Or the one where Dick and Jason talk, fight, get high and cuddle. In that order.

making gold out of it by vmkhoney

Dick talks himself back down on the bathroom floor, clinical and detached. (For someone whose primary skill is manipulating his body, it’s not very often that he feels connected to it.) - Or, five years after Blockbuster, Dick begins teetering on the ledge of processing what Catalina did to him.

a wonderful dick grayson fic, and jason is there being a good brother. mind the tags

What Hurts You by blueyeti

Dick comes to Jason's aid when he's injured in a fight, or at least he thinks he has.

jason has no scars!! and thats also sad

at me, too, someone is looking by bacondoughnut

Dick Grayson knows he's got problems when the Red Hood's busted leg somehow becomes his concern. aka; How Dick Grayson finds out Jason Todd is alive. A story about healing.

a rather long one for my standards XD (very short attention span) but this made me sit down and read. very fun jason

Bruce and Jason:

Saltwater and Desperation by bacondoughnut

Jason's not sure how he even manages to get himself out of the harbor. He's just glad Bruce is there when he does. Not that he'll ever, ever admit as much out loud.

same writer, love this jason (and bruce) so much

Insomnolence by navree

It's not like he slept much as a kid anyway; this is just a return to the status quo. He's not overly tired, and even if he's been sleeping less than his already limited amount throughout April, that's still not any of her business. Bad memories are already bad enough even before they spend the next few years in the aftermath becoming nightmares.

navree being The bruce and jason writer for me all of their fics are so o(- (

Ash Into The Wind by navree

This is his dad in there, the first man he ever called Dad, at any rate, and even after everything, booze and jail and Bruce and death and then death again, there's never going to be a part of Jason that isn't gutted that he's dead. One night, a wraith in a red helmet slips onto the grounds of Blackgate Penitentiary to steal one specific thing.

another one from them

Trapped by lurkinglurkerwholurks

BatFam Week 2018, Day Two. Prompt: Trapped Yes, the prompt is "trapped" and it's a Jason fic. I'm so, so sorry. (Not really, though.) Please see tags for potential triggers.

binge read this writers fics recently they write them so nice

Overcoming Our Antecedents by Batbirdies

Bruce swallows, closing his eyes for a brief moment before he takes another, steadying breath and presses both hands to his face. He just needs a moment. Needs to remember where he is, what year it is, that Jason is not actually fifteen, he only looks like he is. This is temporary. This is just a temporary problem that needs to be contained until they can change Jason back. This is not a repeat of events already passed. This is not a second chance.

Jason and Batfam:

Names and Neapolitan by Muddell

“Goddamnnit Robin,” Hood is there, pulling him into his arms. Robin sees that helmet, he sees the green eyes, the dark hair, he sees open, gray, Gotham sky, and hears tires squealing, and then he sees stone. He sees the cave. Bruce is there. Alfred is there. Dick is there. And Hood is there. Robin rolls in and out of consciousness. He reaches out, snatches the smell of copper and the touch of leather, and he holds Hood’s hand and he does not let go. He’s allowed to say it now. “Jason,” he says. “Don’t leave.” Or, following Dick telling Tim about his older brother, to Tim actually knowing him.

read a couple fics from this writer all so good!!!

Six Ways to Sunday by Muddell

Jason catches Duke hiding a headache and says, is anyone going to deal with that?

same writer!! really love their jason

Settle Down and Sleep by OberonBronze

A series of vignettes about seeking comfort. Damian tries his hand at being a comfort animal; Tim shows up at Jason’s place for an impromptu sleepover; Jason bonds with his older brother after a damaging fear toxin trip; Dick and Bruce have a long-overdue conversation.

really liked jason and dick in this :)

Tuck Me In by OberonBronze

Bruce Wayne and his long-standing habit of tucking his kids into bed.

think how great it is to fall asleep (and how terrible it is to wake up) by mikkal

Jason was fifteen, barely five foot, and underweight for his age when he died. When he came back to his body, suddenly he was too tall, too scarred, too much, too different. And he just... never got used to it. (Or: 5 times a Bat noticed/discovered his body dysphoria post resurrection)

Stranger Danger by alchemistsarego, whumpinaheartbeat (alchemistsarego)

There was never one particular moment that Damian registered that he was losing consciousness. Everything simply flashed from one thing to the next, even though some part of him understood that time had been passing in between. He had been sitting upright, rolling his eyes at something someone had said, then he was on the ground being pinned by some unknowable weight. All at once the weight was gone again, replaced instead by something not only lighter, but much warmer too. A blanket? No, a jacket.

jason and others:

Past Experience by Rookblonkorules

He thinks he might be dying. Again.

clark and jason :)

Bats in the Belfry by endlessnepenthe

Hal idly wonders how long he has before he's found. Probably not very. The Bat's freaky like that. (Or, Hal goes to Gotham and discovers that Batman's brand of freaky isn't exactly one of a kind.)

jason and hal jordan??! and slade? and magic.

[waywardsou2]

Logan x Trans!MaleReader

Reblogged from my writing blog

Summary: Being a mutant was hard enough as it is, but being on trans on top of that. Well, you might as well be cursed. Luckily Logan has your back when it counts the most.

Word Count: 2.1k

Tags: misgendering, dysphoria, transphobia, comforting, fluff, slurs

You were in charge of the supply run for the school this week. It was always strange carrying around Charles’ credit card, over the years he had been able to invest in stocks- knowing when they would dip and rise, he had amassed money from government funding and social projects, as well as working many jobs over the decades he has been alive so he had more than enough money to provide for all of the children at his school, but still the sum baffled you.

But if it meant that the school could stay stocked and at the highest capacity to care for the children, and the teachers living in the school then you didn’t think on it too hard.

You went about grabbing what you needed by the handful and stocking your trolley. Even grabbing a few extra things for you and Logan. Any time you had been on shift to go for the supply run you made sure to grab some extra snacks for Logan and you to keep in your room. You grabbed a bag of Skittles for yourself and some Recess cups for Logan (you had no idea how he could stand eating those).

As you were grabbing some breakfast cereals to stock the cabinet with you overheard a group of people whispering behind you. You turned and out of the corner of you eye saw them pointing at you as they continued to talk

“Why does she look like that? She looks like some cringe teenager?”

“Who does she think she’s fooling with that hair cut?”

“She was probably in prison and is growing it out”

Their voices were hushed but sounded like thunderclaps in your ears

She

She

She

You dropped the box of cereal you were holding, it made a skittering sound as it crunched on the floor. Your heart rate increased as their words reverberated around your mind, your chest tightening and not from your binder. Why today?

“Young miss? You dropped this” A middle-aged lady come into your view as you stared at the box on the floor, its bright logo staring you in the face. It’s mascot smiling gleefully. Her hand came into view as she picked up the box and handed it back to you. Trying to snap your self out of your downwards spiral you smiled sheepishly at her but the smile didn’t meet your eyes.

“Thank you” you took the box and shoved it into your cart. She smiled back at you and continued with her own shopping

The group from before were now snickering at you, before you could grab the last box you needed and head to the checkout the tallest boy in the group threw a packet of biscuits at you and said “Hey tranny, shouldn’t you be in the circus or something?”

The whole group laughed but you just stared. You turned around to face them, glaring them down with as much hate you could muster. All of it was controlled like a grenade ready to explode, the blast steadily building with each second passing as the chemical reaction grew inside the chamber.

Right now, it was anger, bubbling and building but never exploding. All the rage being pent up as you walked towards the checkout. Your feet felt heavy, your footsteps echoing more than last time as you stomped down the isles. Your heart beat fiercely but you looked on blankly, your eyes seeing but not processing what was in front of you. You just wanted to get out of here and get home. Go back to the school and hide away.

Deep down you just wanted to be seen. Being a mutant was hard enough as it was, having to keep a secret from the world and everyone who would ever know you outside of the school. And now, no matter how hard you tried the world still didn’t see you how you were. As a young boy, just like any other human.

But you weren’t, you weren’t and you would never be. Because society decided to define you based on your internal organs and bone structure. Just thinking about it made you irritated. That notion occupied your thoughts quite often and it angered you, all this hate and bigotry towards a group of people because they were simply different. Why did everyone else get to decide your fate? Why did they get to decide who you were and who you were supposed to be? It was bullshit.

As you drove back to the school you anger leaked out. It showed in the whites of your knuckles as you gripped the steering wheel. In the crease at the top of your nose in between your two brows. In the speedometer on your car screaming higher and higher as you broke the speed limit two times over, your foot flat to the floor on the pedal.

As you pulled into the gravel driveway the car screeched to a stop as you cut the ignition and yanked of your seat belt, opening the door with more force than necessary and slamming it shut with equal strength.

You began grabbing bags out of the trunk and bringing them to the kitchen. Leaving them with a few of the kids who smiled and thanked you as they began unpacking the bags you placed on the bench. Their smiles were genuine and warm as they helped you put the items away. You went back for the last bag and as you shut the boot and took a step away from your car you turned and came face to face with Logan. Almost bumping directly into him. You jumped and almost dropped the bag

“Jesus Logan, we need to get you a bell or something”

He chuckled but looked playfully disgusted by the idea.

“I’m not a cat” he laughs at you

“Well you already have the ears and the claws” you say pointing at the curls in his hair.

He laughs and gives you a punch in the arm as he reaches forward to take the bag from your hand. But you don’t let him take it. Usually you would have let him help you but today you didn’t.

It was stupid really, the reason you held onto he bag. The masculine clique of being strong and being able to provide had entered your mind on the way home, all the overcompensating masculine cliques imaginable had played out in your mind as you tried to combat the dysphoria that was consuming your brain.

He tilted his head at you when you pulled away from him but he didn’t press you any further. He walked along side you as you took the last of the groceries to the kitchen and put them away with the help of the few kids that were still unpacking the bags. You moved through the kitchen in a whir, putting things in their place at record time and then depositing the bags back into your car before walking back inside.

Now with nothing to do you felt to wired, to unoccupied. You didn’t want to talk about what was on your mind. You were to mad about. But slowly that anger began to dissolve. The feeling hollowing out your chest, taking up space and crushing your organs.

You had managed to evade Logan in your flurry around the kitchen, not that you meant to but you just weren’t thinking. Your mind was so full but blank. Like TV screen playing static. Numbly you walked to your shared room with Logan, you pulled off your shirt and looked at yourself in the mirror with your binder on. There was a slight pudge out the arm holes from the extra weight your binder couldn’t hold. You didn’t get it. You looked like a boy, like any other man you might have seen on the street. So how did they know? How were you still being misgendered? The thought made you angry again and you glared at yourself in the mirror, getting mad at your own face for betraying you. You pulled your binder up over your head. But because you hadn’t been careful to pull up from the arms first it got stuck, with your arms caught at an awkward angle

You tried to grab at the binder but couldn’t pull it up and over your head. You heard a knock on the door, and you ducked out of view, turning around so that your back faced the door as Logan’s voice accompanied the previous knocking. “Hey, you good?”

You sigh frustratedly, how was this the third time this week you had been caught like this “No…I’m stuck, again”

The door opened and clicked shut quickly as you heard Logan walk up behind you.

“Trying to get it off, or back on?”

You contemplated telling him you were putting it back on, but you had been wearing it for 6 hours already and you ribs were hurting, you knew you were pushing your limits. You sighed and told him to help you take it off.

Gently he grabbed onto the fabric and pulled it over your head, making sure to keep his hands away from your skin as much as possible as he freed you from your predicament.

You snatched your hoodie off the end of your bed and pulled it back on. Adjusting it so your body underneath was hidden, and your curved figure became blocked out and flatter.

He looked at you as you adjusted you hoodie with a sad and now knowing smile on his face.

“What happened” he asked softly

You stopped fussing with your shirt and you looked at him. All the anger from before was completely gone, and instead, the was replaced with the sting of sadness and the feeling of tears welling up behind your eyes.

You bit the inside of your cheek hoping that it would deter the tears in your eyes, but it didn’t. You didn’t know how to explain it, you didn’t want to say it to him. You felt pathic and you were embarrassed, but your heart ached.

It shouldn’t have bothered you but it did, and you didn’t know how to tell him

“Why don’t they see me” you couldn’t explain what had happened but you didn’t need to. He got the gist of it.

He pulled you forward into him softly, holding you against him and locking his arms around your back. Keeping you pressed closed to his chest. Your head resting right over his heart. The organ beating rhythmically and acting as a metronome that was grounding you.

The sound of his life brought you calmly back to earth, bringing you here into the moment, pulling you out of the hole you had been spiralling down. His deep long breaths added to the grounding atmosphere that he had created between the two of you. Those negative feelings were slowly fading away from you, the same way that mud and filth dripped down your fingers as you washed your hands clean of it.

It fell away from you and left you feeling clearer, lighter and calmer.

You closed your eyes and breathed deeply following the rhythm he set naturally and took it in, leaving behind the past hour and reveling in the comfort of this moment. Appreciating every moment you could take with him, basking in the glow that radiated from him whenever the two of you were together.

And in this moment, everything faded away except the two of you. And all of that pain and anger and fear melted away.

He placed a kiss on the strands of your hair and then rested his chin on your head.

“You will always be one of the strongest, most capable men I’ve ever met. And anyone who doesn’t see that is a joke”

You pulled away so you could look at him, and your eyes softened, you could see the pure unbridled love in his face as he looked at you. He cupped your face and pulled you in for a kiss, and that last bit of negativity slipped away from you.

Who cared about what other thoughts of you, they didn’t know you and they didn’t matter. Logan knew you, and he loved you however you were. He would never let you forget that because when he had met you at Charles’ school there was no doubt in his mind that you were the most beautiful man he had ever seen.

And that feeling never changed, each time he saw you no matter what state you were in or what you were wearing, each and every time, you would always be beautiful.

It didn’t matter what your body looked like under your clothes; it didn’t matter what society said you were supposed to be. All that you were, in its truest form, was more than he could have ever asked for in a partner. It didn’t matter to him that you were transgender because you were you. And that was enough for him, he hoped one day that you would be enough for you too.

This one goes out to all of my trans brothers out there, keep fighting boys. You've made it this far you can keep going!

And once again, I take requests. If you would like a one shot like this one or any of my other works then send me an ask!

[fandoms--fluff]

Hellooooo sorry to bother you but do you think can right one of Katherine Pirces were she has a baby girl y/n and she’s like 4 months old and the salvatores brothers finds out about her they use her to take Katherine dawn but they don’t now that she ask the originals but specifically Elijah help to save ther daughter

Mama's Girl

Baby daughter reader x mom Katherine Pierce

Warnings: kidnapping,

A/n: I made a few tweaks in it, by making Elijah the father, but I hope you like it!

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

Katherine picks you up from your playpen which has two fluffy blankets and some stuffed animals. "You hungry baby girl?" Katherine smiles as you babble while nuzzling your head into her chest. "I'll take that as a yes" She kisses the top of your head before sitting down on the black leather couch beside the playpen.

She holds you with one arm and as the her other hand pulls a part of her black shirt down, releasing one of her breasts. She coaxes your head toward her full breast until you easily latch on. As you drink your mama's milk, she holds you protectively in her arms.

She doesn't know how the hell she had gotten pregnant, considering she's been dead a very long time. And it wasn't just her child, you, actually was growing inside her, but her body also changed for how it would when any other woman would be pregnant. ex. she produces breast milk. She's still confused but doesn't ask why anymore, just grateful that you're her baby.

The only two people who know about you are; Elijah and Kol Mikaelson. Kol saw Katherine walking around a park a couple towns over, obviously pregnant. He then later that day asked his big brother how he had managed to knock up Katherine, assuming that Elijah and she had hooked up. And he wasn't entirely wrong, Kol just doesn't need to know that. Elijah went over to her house and confronted her, they had a long conversation, deciding it was best to keep you a secret.

Or so she thought, not taking into account the two Salvatore brothers are staked out, across the road.

"How did Katherine get a baby? and she's caring? what the hell" Stefan says, turning over to his older brother.

"Well, baby bro, when two adults think it's time, they decide to start having se-" Stefan cut him off, "I didn't mean like that!" Stefan groaned.

"Whatever, this is our chance to have something to finally take the vampire bitch slut, down," Damon says, getting out of the car. Stefan sighs before following Damon down the road.

Damon explains the plan he made to Stefan, which they put into action.

Katherine looks up, something seems off. Before she can get a second thought, the front door is knocked off it's hinges and vervain grenades are thrown in. Getting into a coughing fit from the toxic herb, she sees a figure of someone coming over to her with a mask.

As soon as he gets close to her, Damon snatches you out of Katherine's arms and speeds out of the house. Katherine quickly stands up, adjusting her top back, but before she can go after him in a weakened state, someone grabs her from behind. The second person, Stefan, wraps his left arm around her neck until she can no longer breathe in air, passing out quickly from the vervain still in the air.

Stefan lets her drop back onto the couch and walks back outside, peeling the mask off his face. "Now what?" He asks Damon, watching as he tries to make you stop crying. His attempts are proven useless, making you cry louder about being taken away from your mama.

"Oh come on, can't you be quiet, you're going to make a scene with how loud you are" Damon whisper yells at you.

Being a baby and not understanding anything he's obviously saying, you just scream louder.

The brothers quickly get into Damon's car with you, Stefan having to hold you, insisting to Damon it's not a good idea to just throw you in the backseat and hope for the best. He drives off before Katherine has a chance to reawaken.

Coughing, Katherine slowly opens her eyes. The light shining through the windows tells her it's still daytime. Recollecting her memories of what had happened while she stands up makes her freeze. She quickly vamped around the entire house, not finding her baby, you, anywhere.

Damon and Stefan, the two names that come to her mind. They took you. All she can do is pace back and forth, a look of murder in her eyes. But she has to play this smart, if she just goes crashing in there alone, she's more than sure that there'll be everyone there. They'll obviously be expecting that.

She goes to the coffee table where her phone still lays from earlier and dials a number.

"Katerina, how are you doing?" Elijah's smooth voice emits from the phone as he picks up.

"Not well, considering the Salvatores found out about y/n, came crashing in, took her, and now are probably thinking of ways to take advantage of our daughter against me" Katherine exclaims, having no time for small talk.

Elijah's eyes widen and he reassures her everything is going to be okay and to meet her in the woods by the boarding house. Katherine follows his instructions clearly and immediately leaves the house.

Katherine gets to the woods in record time, she looks around before feeling a hand on her shoulder. She quickly turns around, ready for a fight. Though it's just Elijah.

"My apologies," Elijah says.

He starts explaining his plan of what they're to do. Katherine follows every bit and nods before heading to the back of the house, out of sight from anyone inside.

While she hides out back, Elijah goes to the front door. He knocks a few times before Damon opens the door. He gives a suspicious look towards the original.

"I believe this is the part where you invite me in," Elijah says.

He pauses for a second before stepping to the side, letting the older vampire inside.

As Elijah walks down the stairs into the library, he lays his eyes on you. You're currently being held by Caroline. She's been trying to cheer you up and to stop your crying but nothing has worked. You're not wailing anymore but there are still tears running down your tiny cheeks every now and then.

He puts on a facade, acting surprised at the sight of the baby. Caroline and everyone else notice this. Caroline walks over to the other side of the room and places you into an old wooden crib they had found in the attic.

"What's the occasion of your visit?" Damon all but growls, not happy about an original vampire being in his home.

"Just the fact that you have apparently acquired a baby in a short amount of time. I'm only curious" he says, trying to ignore your looks for him. You see the man in the suit is recognizable as your dada. He comes over a lot and holds you and cares for you, and makes your mama smile.

You hold your arms up in a grabby motion. Everyone hasn't noticed. They're all focused on Elijah as there was no way that he just happened to know two hours after they had taken you. Someone must have been watching them.

Damon and Stefan are standing in front of Elijah, whose back is facing you, the rest of the gang all stood behind the brothers.

Katherine watches from behind the door, knowing what to do next. She opens the door and makes her way inside, causing the gang's attention to go to her.

"That was stupid of you" She sneers, her vampire face on display.

As your mama distracts everyone else, your dada quickly goes over to you. He picks you up and vamps out of the room through the same door Katherine left wide open.

"What-" Elena started saying and turned around, seeing that you and Elijah are gone.

Everyone else followed her action and before they knew it, it was only them. You, Katherine, and Elijah, are long gone.

Katherine follows Elijah to a clearing in the woods. He's cradling you against his chest, slightly swaying you as you calm.

"I'm so sorry I let this happen, I never wanted anything to happen to her," Katherine tells him, feeling an emotion she hasn't felt in a long time, guilt.

"There's nothing to apologize for. There was no way for you to know what was going to happen" Elijah says, softness in his eyes. "Come, I have the perfect place for us. It's out of town and secluded" he smiles.

As they make their way there in his car, they talk the whole time as you're sound asleep in your car seat.

[bambi-slxt]

🤍𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐥, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐌𝐢𝐧𝐞🤍

𝕔𝕙𝕣𝕚𝕤𝕥𝕠𝕡𝕙𝕖𝕣 𝕤𝕥𝕦𝕣𝕟𝕚𝕠𝕝𝕠 𝕩 𝕗𝕖𝕞!𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕖𝕣

word count: 1.6k

genre/tropes: established relationship, hurt/comfort, all fluff

warnings: reader is on her period (fic inspired by me being sick as fuck for a month)

notes from bambi: chris takes care of reader on her period (does not include period sex). don't like, don't read - if you do read, please enjoy! <3

It probably ruined the mattress too. Fuck.

"Chris, baby.." You shook him gently awake. "I'm really sorry but can you go sleep in Matt's room?"

He yawned, a massive, snake-like yawn, unhinged jaw and all. "What're you talkin’ about, ma."

You grimaced, unwilling to go into gruesome detail. "I, um...

Chris blinked away the sleep from his eyes and took in the scene before him. Dark blood had soaked through his bedsheets—quite a bit of it. “Oh fuck, are you ok-”

“Yeah, I just–no, don't look at it, I promise I'll take care of everything, I'm gonna wash your sheets and if you need a new mattress I'll get it, I'm so sorry, Chris please, just…just go sleep with Matt.”

While you spoke, Chris sat himself up and slipped off the other side of the bed, his face fallen with empathy. “‘M gonna help. Come on, let's strip it.”

Your stomach twisted. “No, Chris. I don't want you to see this, I don't even really want you to see me right now, please just go.”

Chris padded around the end of his bed, walking towards you with his achingly familiar gait. “Come here, babygirl.”

Tears, hot and stinging, pricked your eyes, and they began to flow as his arms enveloped your body. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry…” You tucked your head into his neck, hands clinging to his shirt like a child while his hands stroked up and down your back, your chest heaving and hiccuping with cries. It was all bullshit, this whole thing.

“Don’t gotta be sorry. It’s okay. I got you. M’ not goin’ anywhere. Easy, pretty girl. Take it easy.” Chris murmured his reassurances gently as you stood together in his dark room. 

“Thabnk you,” you sniffled, nose stuffed. “I’m gonna shoot myself directly into the sun.”

He coughed out a laugh. “Don’t do that. Come on, let's take care of the bed and we can go shower, yeah? Get y’ cleaned up n’ shit, okay?”

An apologetic but appreciative smile cracked its way through your features. “Okay.”

Chris’s hands slipped away and cradled your face with as much tenderness as he could muster. “There’s my girl. It’s okay. You’re okay.” You leaned into his touch, looking up at him through tear-soaked lashes. “Hey, baby,” he whispered. “My pretty girl.”

With another sniffle, you finally tore yourself away from his embrace and stared decisively at the disaster zone. Yanking the comforter off, you and Chris began to silently unmake the bed, working in a quiet tandem that would have been comfortable if not for the subject at hand. Balling up his sheets, you stepped around him, making sure your arm brushed his back as you passed, and stepped carefully up the stairs. About halfway up, your ears alerted you to another set of footsteps behind you and you turned to address him. “Sweetheart, you don’t have to-”

“Shh. What if you get lost?”

“...I’m not gonna get lost.”

“Or kidnapped? Ever think about that?”

“I can honestly say that a home invasion resulting in my abduction hasn’t crossed my mind in years.”

Chris huffed and nudged you up the stairs again. “Skill issue.”

Another unexpected smile stretched your lips. “Shut up.”

A soft light emanated from Matt’s room - he must still be awake. “What time is it?” you murmured, sliding open the folding door to reveal the washer and dryer.

Chris shrugged, reaching above your head for the stain remover. “Time doesn’t mean anything anyway.”

“What?” You took the bottle from him and rifled through the heap of sheets. 

He chuckled, quite proud of his ability to drop conversation-grenades. “Like, the numbers we put with time, they don’t add any meaning to it. Numbers are just a way for us to measure something we don’t understand.”

You turned to him slowly, in utter disbelief. “All that raw, incredible intelligence…remind me again how you spell tw-”

“Okay, enough,” he grumbled, snatching the sheets from you. “Here, gimme that. You’re doing it wrong.”

You snickered softly, wrapping your hands around Chris’s arm as he scrubbed the magic soap into his sheets. “Wait, no, you don’t have to do that, hold on, let me just-”

He bumped you out of the alcove with his hips. “Stop. I got it. Doesn’t bother me, ma, I promise.”

“...But I feel bad.”

He shrugged, hands still working the solution through the accidental mess you’d made. “Don’t feel bad. Problem solved.”

“Okay but like…it’s embarrassing. I don’t want you to see this and associate it with me.”

Chris tilted his head and turned to face you, leaning on the dryer to stabilize himself. “You’ve cleaned up worse things that’ve come outta’ me. Y’ any less attracted to me?” You shook your head, wrinkling your nose even still as you remembered his week-long recovery from food poisoning. “See?” Chris held out his hands. “Come here.” You sighed when you settled against his chest once more. “I’m gonna see you do some embarrassing stuff, and some gross stuff, and you’ll see the same from me.”

You grinned in spite of yourself. “Or worse.”

“Yeah,” he chuckled, ruffling your hair, “Or worse. Look at me.” Raising your head to meet his gaze, you felt his thumb underneath your chin - not to force you, but just to touch you. “I don’t love ya any less. M’ not any less attracted to ya. I don’t want you to be perfect, I want you to be real and I want you to be mine. That’s all I’m askin’ for, babygirl.”

You stayed quiet for a moment, taking in his words and holding his gaze. “You’re so sweet.”

A soft blush lit his cheeks and he turned away to smile. “Shut up.” 

After dropping the offending sheets into the washer, Chris managed the dials and left it at that. “You wanna go get cleaned up?”

You nodded profusely. “I feel disgusting.”

“Come on, then. Gonna run you a shower to get all that blood off you and then we can just soak in the bath,” he murmured, beckoning down the stairs for you to go before him. “Ladies first.”

“Why, thank you, sir,” you replied, taking his hand daintily and attempting to saunter down the steps to his room and adjoined bathroom. 

“You look like those geese ladies from that old cat movie,” he snickered, following you with a hand wrapped around your outstretched fingers. 

“The Aristocats? I fucking love the Aristocats,” you said.

“Wanna watch it later?”

“Yessss.”

Chris chuckled again and pressed a soft kiss to your forehead. “Lemme get the water warm.”

“Okay. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. I like taking care of you.”

Now it was your turn to blush. “Shut up.”

The gentle shhhh coming from Chris’s bathroom washed over your ears as you slid the ruined pajama pants down to your ankles. “Gonna have to wash these too,” you growled, balling them up and throwing them at the corner. 

“I’ll do that,” Chris said, “Get in,” and he pointed forcefully to the shower.

“Oh my god it’s so warm in here,” you groaned happily, feeling it soak your skin and warm your body.

“Not too hot?” he asked, closing the sliding glass door almost all the way. 

“Perfect.” Securing your hair out of the way, you let the water flow down your body, taking all the dark stains with it and disappearing down the drain. You didn’t even notice Chris leave. 

The lighting in his bathroom was soft and easy on the eyes. You pulled your soap off the tile-inset shelf and opened it over your chest, letting the cool gel coat your breasts and stomach. Frugality held no bearing on your mind tonight - you earned this small luxury.

The door opened again. “‘M back, baby.” Chris leaned against the wall that upheld the shower, turning his head to meet your eyes through the glass door. “You feelin’ better?” 

You nodded, smearing the now-sudsy soap over yourself. “Thank you.”

“For?”

“Taking care of me.”

Chris smiled, though it was tinged by sadness. “Of course I take care of you. And ‘m sorry you thought you had to do all that, you know…by yourself.”

You returned his ached smile. “I'm sorry I bled on your mattress.”

“It’s not a death sentence, babygirl, it’ll be alright.”

You stepped back into the water stream, and let it send the last spots of blood into the drain. “So will I.”

When you awoke again, it was on the couch. The white couch. Scrambling to your feet, your eyes darted around in horror - but no red marks greeted you. 

“You’re okay, baby,” Chris said softly. He stood shirtless in the kitchen, standing over a sizzling pan. “Brought you up here cuz’ you didn't want me to leave you alone in bed.”

You blinked rapidly, trying to regain memory. “But I never…I don't remember putting a-”

“I put a towel underneath us so you could sleep naked like you like,” he said with a smile. “You remember wakin' up this mornin’?”

“Yes…Oh Chris…” A blush flamed across your cheeks at the memory of him holding your hips, running a soft, cool wipe over your folds at your behest. “I shouldn't have asked you to do that, that was weird and gross and-”

“Shut up.”

“No, really, that was-”

“Hey.” He clicked something on the stove and walked over to the couch, cupping your face with his hand. “I was happy to do it. I told you, I like takin’ care of you. Besides, what kinda man would I be if I was scared of a little blood?” His thumb brushed over your cheek. “It’s okay. I promise.”

Tears pricked your eyes, and your chin felt a little shaky. “Thank you.”

“‘Course,” he grinned. “Come on, food’s ready.”

notes from bambi: hope you liked it! i'm such a sucker for soft!chris

[alekthefox]

Overheating

Boothill fic because I'm OBSESSED!

Have you noticed he has some sort of large plug socket on the small of his back? Mmmmmmmmmmm I have ideas~

(Do tell me in the comments what person you prefer to read in, first person, second person, third person. I really don't know. I just roleplay a lot so this is the type I'm most used to.)

Tags: Boothill has nerve-like sensors on his body, he can indeed overheat, teasing, banter, mention of alcohol, rough Boothill, failed smut (he stops so he doesn't hurt reader) Pairing: Boothill x gender neutral reader (not trailblazer+no mention of lower private parts), 3rd person Context for reader: The reader is a bounty hunter who occasionally teams up with Boothill. They waited outside the workshop for Boothill to be repaired. That reckless man might be good at dodging bullets, even dancing in the crossfire, but a well timed grenade tore him apart. Luckily, his pretty face is unharmed. After several hours he came out. They were on their phone, checking the transaction that just came in as a reward for their work. "Fifty, just as agreed upon. Wanna get a drink, big guy?" Fifty million credits was very little to bounty hunters. It should have been an easy job, like a little thrill-seeking. But this dumbass of a man has no sense of safety. They got away with just a few scrapes unlike him. "You invitin' me on a date, eh?" "Hah, you wish." "Aw, you wound me~ at least let me buy you a drink." They rolled their eyes and started walking, expecting him to follow, and that he did. Not only that but he gracefully passed them like a skilled dancer, walking ahead. Their eyes traced over his literally sculpted body. The man not only chose to make himself have NO ass, but also metal fucking abs... and a jacket that covered nothing. But... there was some sort of exposed hole on the small of his back. A plug socket? It was too large to logically be for anything they can recognize. Out of impulse they put a hand on his back, which he didn't mind, smirking. That smirk was soon to drop. Their hand slid down the middle of his back until their fingers slowly traced the rim of socket. He stopped walking, his back arched and he covered his mouth. He stumbled forwards before spinning around and grabbing their wrist harshly. "What the fudge do you think you're doin'?" Well, that was an unexpected reaction. If that part was so sensitive, why was it exposed? "Curiosity killed the cat. I didn't expect you to be such a whore, exposing a sensitive part for everyone to see." "Well nobody thinks to fudging touch it. I'm gettin' real tired of yer teasin'. Always got yer eyes on my body, always sneakin' in small touches, leanin' in close, stealing my hat--which I'd kill people over-- it's fudgin' annoyin'!" "I plead guilty~." At the mention of his hat they reach up with the unbound hand but he leans away, still holding their wrist. Now the grip gets tighter. Cold, metal fingers like a deadly vice, locked joints so there isn't a way to escape it. He might leave bruises at this point. He turns them around and grabs both wrists to pin them behind their back, pushing them against the nearest wall. The display attracts attention from strangers. Nobody stops to form a crowd, but eyes are certainly on the two of them. They laugh. "Either tell me to stop or do something about it, cowboy." "Fudge."

He presses them against the wall with his body. But his body isn't cold... They can hear the fan inside his torso spinning loudly, the metal heated. He's flustered. His voice is gravely in their ear. "Can't tell if I wanna shut ya up or make you scream." "Well make a choice, big guy. Leave, take me to the bar, or take me to private place." Boothill huffs then hesitantly lets go of them and starts walking. It's unclear which he chose but he did stop to see if they're following so the choice isn't 'leave'. They follow, eyes trailing over his body again, never getting enough. It's his carefully constructed body, it's the way he moves through the crowds, those heels that are actually a part of his legs--of course they are--and the...

He lead them to a hotel. A quite nice hotel. They smile wide with a raised brow. Now this will be interesting. They wonder just what he's got packing seeing as he's literally 90% metal. He pays for a room for one night, and slightly strangely, the next day as well. He opens the door for them and places a hand on the small of their back as they both walk in. As soon as he turns to close the door they hug him from behind, feeling up and down his torso. He huffs, his cooled body now heating up again. They swear they see a bit of steam come from his mouth. He places a hand on the wall in front of him as their hands explore his body and eventually land once again on that plug socket. Gently circling the rim, his body grows hotter, his breathing gets heavier. He's letting them do it but they can tell he's barely holding back. They put a soft kiss between his shoulders as two fingers slip into the hole to see how deep it goes. It goes about to the second knuckle and the moment their fingers brush the end he bends forwards to hit his head on the wall. "That feel good?" He doesn't respond with words, instead with haste he turns around and grabs their hair and pulls them into a bruising kiss. His other hand grips their hip, pulling their bodies against each other. Knowing very well how sharp his teeth are he gently bites their lip. Then he moves onto their neck, leaving kisses, sucking on the skin, and sometimes biting just enough to leave tiny marks of a shark bite. The hickeys aren't enough to mark them, anyone can leave hickeys, but the bites are his mark without a doubt. He wants everyone to know who they belong to. Their hand sneaks to his back again, abusing that sensitivity. He really, truly, growls in their ear and recklessly bites their neck hard. Their entire body reacts to the pain. He apologetically licks the blood off, savoring the taste of iron in it. He's uncharacteristically silent. Luckily he had enough of clarity to bite more towards the shoulder.

They tug on his belt which is an extremely dangerous game. "You want it off? Do it yourself, baby."

URGH, this man is so damn annoying yet so damn hot. They start with the belt, then pants, then underwear, one after the other. But before they can look down Boothill spins them around as if they weigh nothing to him, once again they're pressed chest first into the wall. They protest by pushing back into him. Which is an extremely smart move because then they feel it. It feels like... a silicone dildo. How the fuck can there be nerve-like sensors inside silicone? Then again... how can they be in metal as well? Buuuut then again a lot of planets around the cosmos have different levels of technological advancements. Now was indeed not the time to dwell on the logic of it. Especially as his hand went from their hip to underneath their shirt and up their torso. Cold fingers pinched the left nipple as his teeth grazed their neck. After he was satisfied with their reactions, their sounds, his hand moved lower, his body pressing them into the wall out of excitement, his body almost scalding hot. Just as his hand was to reach there he stops and backs away abruptly. They whine and turn around only to see his head is hanging low, hat obscuring most of his face. Some of the plates on his body have shifted to be ajar for the literal steam to come out, fan whirring loudly. "Well fudge... Had to stop so I don't burn ya. I promise, when I cool down, I'll take care of ya. I swear it."

Author's notes: I am not fucking sorry for ending it like this. Suffer. :)

[toska-writes]

Clone commandos request if possible. 😁 Could you do delta squad. where on a mission they get captured along with the Padawan, and get protective when they try to separate them or interrogate them.

So i thought about writing a fic based on todays bad batch episode (but I need to get some of the requests done- if you wanna request some Wolffe *wink wink* that’s ok)

“Got your back”

Summary: a mission goes south with the delta squad but they have your back

Paring: The delta Squad/ republic commandos x padawan!reader (PLATONIC OFC)

Warning: slight mentions of injury and imprisonment nothing too bad… the most scary- not proofread

Word count: 1688

Notes: Delta Squad fics are not my “most popular” but ones I always do so much for and I don’t know why

Also I swear to god someone asked to join the Taglist but I can’t remember nor find it so let me know!

"Can you focus for one second Scorch? EVER?" Fixed screamed through the comms, you could see his tense movements from a mile away as the squad ducked once again behind a wall.

Boss could only nod this head, he quickly spun around from where you, Sev and him were hiding to shoot an incoming droid.

"Sorry Scorch I can't defend you this time it's not looking good." You spoke between gasp of your own breath, the adrenaline from the long hours fighting wearing on you and the whole group.

Sev leaned heavily on Fixer from where you could see him, though Scorch as of now was doing a good job covering them.

"Boss," You yelled over the hiss of a smoke bomb going off- the contents of which were going in your eyes and making you cough. "I'm all out of ideas here."

The comando spared you a glance for a second, you feared what his face would have looked like if his helmet was discarded.

Boss looked down at the padawan for a moment. A thin cut ran along their cheek way too close to their eye for Boss’s comfort. He watched their head whip around looking through the fog desperately before a huge bang went off.

After a moment of slight ringing Boss felt the bump of another person against his side. The padawan looked around frantically for the force of the bomb before looking up to the comando.

In a more solemn voice they asked. “Boss what are we gonna do?”

Boss thought about their options then. Backed into the corner of what should have been an abandoned outpost, on of their men injured and the rest ready to collapse from exhaustion. He as a leader thought he was better than this but Boss felt as if he walked his squad right into this trap.

“The missions easy enough for us.” Boss had said only hours before. A knot sat in his stomach but the team needed an easy mission, a break from their last fiasco with the bugs.

He’s never been more wrong in his life.

While he was lost in thought, Boss nearly missed Scorch sliding up next to their leader, his panicked voice tried to fill Boss’s ears.

For a moment the other comando didn’t realize the trooper in yellow was talking until Scorch made a shhh gesture with his hand.

That’s when you noticed it too, the complete lack of noise. No more clanker chatter or blaster bullets from each side. Just the low hiss of the fog that didn’t seem to die down.

You opened your mouth to say something before the unmistakable scraping of metals filled your ears.

“Rollies! get down!” Scorch shouted pulling you and Boss to the floor with him. About 5 Droidekas emerged from the smoke…. Lucky you guys.

“Scorch handle them.” Boss yelled using his hands to signal something at Fixer and Sev at the speed of light. His gruff tone scratched your ears but you all seemed pretty fed up at the situation.

Blaster bullets were blocked by your lightsaber left and right until the next words made your heart drop all together. “Out of hand grenades sir.” Scorch ripped his blaster out now but the shields were too strong on the droids.

“Down the hall!” Fixer yelled as both He and Sev passed the 3 of you, a way out hopefully planned.

You felt them before you saw them, you tried skidding to a stop before turning into the next hall as a hand shot out to grab Boss.

“Shit.” Was the only thing you could say, before they could question what you meant a group of comando droids emerged with guns drawn.

“You’ve got to be joking me.” Sev rasped out, his arm shook while he tried to lift his blaster up and fire. The tiredness leaked off of him though you were sure it did for everyone.

A ring of blue light hit the wall behind you. It didn’t make sense though, comando droids weren’t the type to show mercy.

Your lightsaber flashed along the darkened walls trying to keep the nimble droids away, why couldn’t the separatists just send the normal clankers.

Once again the hall was engulfed in a think smoke. You heard more blasters going off but you feared you were getting more and more disoriented. After a moment you heard a sickening thunk next to you and you assumed the worst.

In the blink of an eye you felt the blast hit its mark and half your body go limp. Unlike the bulking clones you were with it only took about 2 hits before you were out.

•✩•

Boss was the first one to awaken. His head bobbed around and his eyes fluttered open. Boss reached his hand up only to finally realize that his armor was gone.

He laid there for a moment, confusion laced his face. What had happened to him? To them….

In a split second Boss shot up to a sitting position , which his head greatly protested, and looked for the rest of his squad.

Relief was one of the best things in the galaxy in this moment. In the dim light of the ray shield keeping them in Boss could count the 3 other comandos and the form of their padawan knocked out next to Scorch.

Sev still looked bad as now Boss could get the full view of his gash along his side- the blacks on all of the men seemed to be tattered.

Boss observed their surroundings for a moment before giving a light tap to Fixer on the foot. When that didn’t work the first time a much hard kick was implemented.

Fixer gasped awake along with Scorch after a “friendly” tap from the clone comando.

I didn’t take Scorch long before he leaned back against the wall and groaned, clearly he knew the situation at hand.

Boss could only stare for another second at Sev, guilt rummaged through his insides as he helped his injured brother up ultimately waking him as well. This was his fault and Boss couldn’t shake that.

“Fixer start working on those bindings.” Boss ordered unable to keep his gaze on the unconscious padawan. Clearly to the eyes of their captors the Jedi was the bigger threat.

Sev hissed for a moment now finding a new brother to lean on.

You came to with the feeling of someone’s exposed hands brushing against your arms. The pounding in your head was present but the blanket of confusion was much scarier.

“Thanks for joinin’ us.” The unmistakable voice of scorch chimed in. Your eyes strained against the darkness but you could tell what the problem was.

The cool metal hurt your wrists as Fixer fiddled with them muttering a small apology every once in a while.

Boss’ low voice filled the cell, plans of just how they would get out to fight another day. Your eyes scanned the worrisome group.

Scorch sat fidgeting with his hands trying desperately to listen but you could see the worry in his eyes as clear as day.

Fixer sat in front of you cursing and apologizing but he just couldn’t seem to do anything useful without his tools and data pad.

Sev’s eyes closed everyone once in a while and you could see the fight to remain in the moment, though his scowl never seemed to be wiped off.

And finally Boss. His voice was level and low just like the countless other times you heard him give directions, however this time was different. He knew this wasn’t in their favor and he was worried beyond belief.

Someone had to stay strong for them all.

Your heartbeat beat out of your chest, a dull throb started in your temples the feeling seemed vaguely familiar.

“I think someone’s coming.” For the first time you were unsure in the force. Fixer faltered for a moment before meeting your eyes. “It’s probably these. Messing with you.” He shook the bindings.

Though to your surprise, and relief in a way, someone did make their way down the hall. Boss spoke out quickly as you averted your gaze, sweat started to form on your brow.

“We need a medic.” It was hard to call it pleading despite where Boss said it from his position on the floor, but it was definitely more of a demand.

2 masked figures approached though they seemed to ignore Boss all together.

“We need the Jedi.” The cool voice stated only once.

Everyone seemed to freeze for a moment unsure about which group would make the first move.

“Get up.” Was demanded at you and you glanced around meeting Boss’ eyes for only a moment before you gripped onto the sleeve of Fixer.

The ray shield was down now and the larger figure stepped in. “I’m not asking again”

“Like kriff they’re going with you.” Scorch stood in front of you now. His full height filled up their line of sight.

“Move clone.” For a second Scorch was pushed back that was until Boss stood as well and shoved their captor away from his brother.

Before the other could react with their blaster Scorch was all over them. Fixer taking the hint that their time was now scrambled to get their other brother still on the floor.

Your eyes were blown wide with the loud alarm that was set off. You felt someone grab your arm as you were still in a little daze.

“I hope you didn’t think we were really gonna let them take ya.” Scorch said as the group rushed down the halls.

You thought about that for a moment, had there truly been something to worry about while you were surrounded but the Delta Squad, your brothers?

A smile broke out of your face and Scorch seemed to get your reply.

“I hope you know.” Scorch called over his shoulder. “You’re never picking the missions by yourself again Boss.”

An angry yell was heard from somewhere behind you replacing the fear in your body with a laugh. “You were the one to pick the bug mission Scorch!”

______________________________

Taglist:

@arctrooper69 @thereforepizza @padawancat97 @pb-jellybeans @floffytofu @verybadatwriting @solstraalaa @ray-rook @gregorsmissingarmor

[lostintransist]

Tears from Dreams and Memories

Cross-posted from AO3, check out the tags over there but reader beware. I kill everyone in this little one-shot, and if I don't kill them they wish they were dead.

Check those tags out here.

Seriously, if you didn't check out the tags I kill everyone or they wish they were dead. Readers beware

You shouldn’t be running down the halls of the base. You know you shouldn’t be running. But fuck all if they weren’t right on your heels. The men had come back on base drunk and the creepy ones had searched you out. You choked down the sobs that threatened to escape. If you could just get far enough away you might be ab—

You slam into something hard. You had taken the corner fast, a hand still behind you on the wall to help you pivot. You look up, and up, and up. A hard skull mask stares down at you. Blackout paint hides everything beyond the whites of his eyes.

Maniacal laughter starts up from behind you. You can’t stop the flinch that wracks your body. Shifting you aim for the pocket of space between the man and the wall, your socks shift ever so slightly against the inside of your boots. His hand shoots out, grasping your arm before you pass him.

“Wait.”

The tone reeked of a command. No one gave commands on a base like this unless they knew they had the authority to back up the demand. The thump of steps against the thin carpet has you letting out a high-pitched keen and pulling against the bear paw holding you in place.

“Please, please, please let me go.” You barely understand the words tripping off your tongue.

Barbed wire is wrapped around your spine, it pulls tight when two men appear at the end of the hall.

“Ho ho! You found her! Our friend here owes us a good time tonight for bailing on drinks off base.” The blond sways only in his eyes, shifting over your breasts and ass.

The man with the black hair just leers, it’s almost worse.

The man holding you makes no move to let you go or tell off the men who followed you over half of the base for their ‘fun’. A change in the air occurs, a pin of a grenade hitting the dirt.

The hand on your arm tightens. The British accent surprises you, the base had been briefed that a unit on loan from the UK would be joining them for a few months. The line repeated to every man and woman below a certain rank is to leave them alone and if you have any questions submit them to the liasons.

“Get back to your rooms, you have two seconds to get out of my sight or I will be having a chat with your base commander in the morning.”

They gape at skull man, their drunk minds stumbling trying to catch up.

“What?” The blond questions.

“One.”

Both men start to back up, the menace in that single word tightens around your throat. You escaped two predators only to land with a stronger one.

“Tw—”

The soldiers take off, the threat finally process past the alcohol. You pinwheel your arm as their boots disappear behind the corner. You break free of the grip on your arm and start forward away from this new evil. One step is all you can take before arms wrap tight around your chest. He caught your arms too, fingers dangling by your thighs.

All the fight in your body leaves, your brain deciding to there is no escape. Your head rolls forward, you don’t even have the energy to blink.

When you position changes your mind starts recording new memories. Looking around you find yourself on a chair in the kitchen connected to the mess hall. The beast of a man stands in front of you slowly adding hot water to a cup. Your breaths pick up speed, fingers curling on the edge of the chair.

Skull face turns and drops a knee in front of you. He looms close but doesn’t touch any part of you.

“None of that now, I am not here to hurt you. We are just having some tea and then I will walk you to your room.” He speaks with a slow tone, as if coaxing a feral cat from beneath a car.

You can’t tell where is accent is from, England for sure but not the common one associated with the country in your mind.

“I..I…I don’t..don’t…like tea.” You stutter at him.

You see his brows draw down despite the mask.

“Well I will give you a warm cup to hold while I drink my tea then.” His voice is deep as it should be with the breadth of his shoulders.

He stays on his knee, looking you over until at some point known only to him, he stands. He removes the tea bag from both cups. He adds a splash of milk to both cups and an ungodly amount of sugar. He gives both a quick mix and hands you one. He pops a hip on the stainless steel counter. He’s so damn tall he has his left foot flat on the floor and and still comfortably sit on the counter his right foot swaying slightly.

“Can you even,” deep shuddering breath, “call that tea with how much sugar it in it?”

“Can’t call it anything if you don’t try it,” he slips a finger below his mask lifting it enough to fit the mug to his mouth. He wears gloves too.

Once the mask cleared the edge of his jaw you slam your head down. You stare at the tea, the milk slowly swirling into water. You turn away and take a sip. The idea of milk and water as a drink still didn’t compute but the sugar masked any issues you might have had.

You sip at the drink finishing only about half when the sounds of movement bring your head back to the scary man in the room with you. His hand is stretched out to you. Glancing up and down it you slowly place your cup in his hand. You don’t feel so adrift after the quiet company.

You stand, awkwardly holding your elbows while he rinses the cups and spoon, leaving them in the empty sink. When he turns back to you he motions with his fingers for you to head out of the kitchen. You do as instructed. He picks up the chair on his way out. You hold open the swinging door, manners ingrained from childhood. He nods his thanks, tucking the chair just so below the table.

You don’t move until he looks at you. You let the door swing shut and begin to lead the way back to your room. Once you clear the doors of the mess hall he falls into step with you. You walk the brightly lit halls, walls dotted with darkness for windows. He remains a steady presence at your side until you stop in front of a door that looks exactly like the others.

“Thank you for your help,” you stare at your boots, curling your toes inside your them.

“Lock your door tonight.”

With that final command he turns and walks away. You don’t know where the UK team is staying but it is nowhere near the dorms you slept in. You do as instructed, locking the door behind you after you confirm that your roommate is already in bed, snoring lightly. Sleep comes slowly, a skull mask haunting you behind your eyelids.

✮✮✮

Price stares down at his tea, blinking slowly. He sat in an empty officers room. The base commander was courting the 141. He had yet to come out with the goal of this collaboration. He wonders absently if a tip of a flask would make the morning meetings easier to handle.

A file is slapped down on the table in front of him. Ghost sits down, a seat between them.

“I want this one.”

Price blinks at the file, his cup, and then finally his lieutenant.

“It is to early for this. Speak clearly. What do you want?”

In lieu of answering Ghost reaches over and flips open the folder. It’s a personnel file. A neutral faced woman stares out at him from the small photo.

“I am not helping you get a girlfriend, Ghost.”

His joke doesn’t land. Ghost snatches the mug of tea from his hand.

“Don’t be crass, I hate the team the base commander has given us to work with. I want this one.”

“You want a soldier right out basic who knows next to nothing about this base and has probably never even met the commander to be our new point of contact?” Price can’t keep the exasperation out of his voice.

Ghost slurps at the tea. Price sighs and massages right above his eyebrows. This would be a hard sell to the base commander.

“I’ll see what I can do, now get the fuck out of my face. I don’t want to see you until lunch.”

✮✮✮

The wrinkles on the base commanders face absorbed light like a black hole. Price stood before the man’s desk, face neutral.

“You want to change from the team of our hand chosen soldiers to accommodate any need you have on base for a baby? Am I understanding that right?” He flipped through the file Ghost had dropped on the table just this morning.

“My lieutenant has a tendency to eat anyone he doesn’t tolerate.”

“He eats people?” the commander cut in.

“I have no confirmation of if he actually eats people, commander, only that he will chew through any team you give him until they all beg for reassignment. To avoid that strain on your teams I am asking that you give us this one soldier who has been requested.” Price lays the facts out reasonably, tone hinting that the commander would be an idiot to ignore this request.

“How did they even meet? We have strict orders for most of our people to not interact with your team at all,” he tossed down the file on this desk.

“I tend not to ask questions that will only result in a dead eyed stare. He won’t tell me even if I asked, I’ve learned to roll with what he gives me.”

The commander steeples his fingers, elbows resting on the arms of his office chair. Price noted the power move but was more concerned about what the mess hall would be serving for lunch. He wondered if he could put in a request of a clam chowder, the warm creamy soup would hit the spot.

“Alright, I will reassign your current team and give you this one soldier. The paperwork should be done by dinner. I will have her also move to your section as she will need to be on hand for your team.” The commander leaned back in his chair, “Is there anything else your team needs right now, Captain Price?”

“No sir, everything has been satisfactory. I have a few things to finish up, I will see you at the 1100 meeting.” Price extracts himself from the commander’s office, closing the door behind him.

Soap pushed off the wall falling into step.

“So we getting a new aide? Because Ghost requested one?” He grousued. “Ghost who would have bit the aide from the last base if it didn’t mean removing his mask?”

Price smirked, “In all fairness that man was an areshole.”

“Aye he was, but why the request?” Soap pushed open the door they had come to. They were near the training grounds.

“Don’t know Soap. Why don’t we find out?” Price aimed for someone who looked to be in charge.

✮✮✮

You pause, looking around. You were almost sure that someone had just called for you. You look around and see a man waving you down from the edge of the training area. You check that you are clear to cross before jogging over.

“Good, come with me.”

You follow. When you finally slow you are presented to two men. They had to be members of the 141 with skull face. One man, taller than you but not by much kept a trimmed beard, crows feet around his eyes. The other man towered over you, almost as tall as skull face, the mohawk added several inches to his height.

“This the recruit you were looking for?” The man who walked you over pointed a thumb in your direction.

“Think so,” bearded man said. He stuck out his hand, “Nice to meet you, you can call me Price.”

You shake his hand, twice up and down with a firm pressure. You had to learn to ‘shake like a man’.

Mohawk man sticks out his hand next, “Soap.”

You shake his hand and nod, turning back to the man who walked you over.

“Is that all, sir? All of us low ranking members have standing orders to not speak to any of the 141,” you infuse your words with a ‘I’m just doing my job’ tone.

Soap snorts out a laugh, covering it poorly with a cough into his fist.

The man before you stutters before Price jumps in.

“Thank you, that will be all.” He can’t help but smile as you nod and turn on your heel heading back to your task.

As you are walking away you hear Soap’s comment.

“I can see why ‘e wants her, much more spunk there than anywhere else on this base.”

✮✮✮

The news comes down the line of your reassignment to become the sole attendant of the 141. You scarf down dinner, they wanted you presented to the team at 1800. You speed walk to your room, the clock showing a measly twenty minutes to pack your life up to move halfway across base.

You make it, squeaking through the door exactly the time you were requested. The base commander stands, hands tucked in one another behind his low back. He stands looking out the window over a group of training soldiers.

He ignores your presence for a moment before turning towards you.

“Ah, come in. We have a few things to discuss before I introduce you to the team. One question before we start, do you know why you were requested to be our liaison?”

You answer honestly, “Sir, I have not even a singular idea as to why.”

He hums, “We need this to go well. We need to borrow from the 141 from time to time and can only do that if they agree. Your job is to do whatever is needed to secure their agreement.”

Your stomach turns sour at the word choice, do whatever is needed. The military is no different than a pimp, only difference is one gets cheers and free meals at IHOP.

“Of course, sir, I will do my best.”

“Good, now here is what you need to know…”

The meeting takes another twenty minutes, your brain a bit fried when you lift your bag to follow the commander.

You take stock of the nicer flooring and art as you enter the building just beside the commanders. He lived on base since his wife passed nearly a year ago. You enter a room, you would still call it a living room despite all the time in the military.

Soap and a man you haven’t seen sit on the couch intently focused on their game of Mario Kart. They raced along the Rainbow Road. Price and skull face sat at a table near the wall. Price worked away on a laptop and skull face held an e-reader. A fifth man reclined in a chair near Soap, clearly asleep. Feet spread wide, head tipped across the back of the chair, an arm thrown over his eyes.

“This is where you will be staying. Captain Price will be in charge of you until they leave in a few months time. I will leave the introductions of the team to him.” The commander claps a hand on your shoulder, knocking you forward a step.

Price looks up at the motion, pulling a small headphone from his ear.

“Ah, Commander. Thank you for delivering our new aide, we will take good care of her.” He stood, striding over and offering a hand again.

You shake it again, focused on the retreating sounds of the commander. Once the door clicks behind him you feel the tension release slightly from you shoulders.

“Welcome, lets get you introduced to everyone and then get you settled.” Price smiled at you warmly, the crows feet showing it to be a common state for him. “You’ve met Soap, next to him is Gaz.”

Neither man acknowledges their name, to focused on the game. They are on their third lap, neck and neck for the lead. Gaz drops back slightly and throws a blue shell, effectively taking first. Soap jumps to his feet, shouting.

“You feckin’ cheatin’ son of a whore! Not even mother Mary will save you after this!” His accent came out thick in his anger.

Gaz just laughed as he crossed the finish line. Soap rolled in at fifth. With their outburst done Price continues his introductions.

“The sleeping man is Roach, he doesn’t speak much so don’t worry if he doesn’t respond to you. And then we have our L.T., Ghost,” Price gestures to the masked man.

You can’t stop the words. They escape, your brain slowing down the embarrassment to exacerbate the stress.

“Ghosts don’t have bones.” Such a matter of fact tone. Fuck a duck, why are you like this?

Ghost stands. You swallow hard. He clears the space between you in three long strides. Mother-fucking giant of a man.

“What?”

He asks as if he hadn’t heard, not as if he were offended.

You roll your lips between your teeth, answering a bit louder despite his now closer position.

“Ghosts don’t have bones, so your mask is a bit of a silly choice.”

Every man awake busts into laughter except Ghost. You glance over and Gaz is hanging off Soap, struggling to breathe. Soap is curled forward hugging his stomach. Price smothers a chuckle next to you.

You look back at Ghost, his eyes squint slightly at you. You give an awkward smile.

“L.T. how has no one ever thought about that before?” Gaz is out of breath and falls back into laughter after his question.

Ghost blinks once at you.

“Follow me, I will show you to your room.”

You wince at his back, throwing a glance at Price.

“You’ll be okay, he won’t hold it against you,” the laughter in his voice didn’t reassure you.

You scurry after the man you insulted by accident, wincing at every sound you make. The only sound Ghost makes is the slight swish of his pants as they cross with each step. He leads you down a short hall, turning right at the first choice. There are two doors down this short hall. He taps the second one.

“This is your room. Mine is next door.”

“I am really sorry, I didn’t mean to make a joke of your mask,” you stumble over your words.

“Don’t apologize, it’s a funny thought and the men will take to you easier after the joke,” he replies evenly.

You wince again and look at the door.

“Is there anything I need to handle tonight?”

“No, other than we have a nightly debrief at 2000 in the main room.”

You blow out a short breath. “Okay, I can do that.”

Stepping into the room you are surprised at the single bed, dresser, and a desk. Still all military issue but nicer. You drop your bag on the bed, looking over the space. You hadn’t truly been alone since you signed up, this might be an adjustment.

Turning back to the door you startle, Ghost is still standing in the doorway, arms crossed and eyes on you.

“Can I help you with something, lieutenant?” you ask, curious as to why he is still stood in the doorway.

“No. Feel free to join us when you are ready.” He turns away, this sound of his steps quickly fading.

You sit down on the chair at the desk. You put your head in your hands, elbows propped on your knees. How the hell did you end up here? Last night you were running for your life and now you are helping court a specialty group from the UK for the base commander. The only person from the team you spoke to last night had been Ghost. Did he have something to do with this change?

You eventually join the team back in the main room. The 2000 debrief had just been a fancy way of saying they all have a cup of tea before bed. Roach pulled out a deck of cards and you soon found yourself in a game of poker you would lose. You laugh more at the table with these men than you had in all the months you had been in the military. You fell asleep that night a soft smile on your face, the door locked tight.

✮✮✮

The months passed quickly, you became texting buddies with everyone on the team beyond Ghost. He watched you. You noticed but ignored it. He happened to be a grown man and if he had something to say he would have to buck up and use his words.

Roach comes alive through your text conversations, he is full of observations and quirky sayings. He is your favorite texting buddy.

As the time for the 141 to return come crept closer without a hard yes or no from Price about working with the base in the future the commander crept further up your ass. After a particularly unhelpful meeting where the commander ended up yelling at you, you stormed into your room. Throwing yourself face down on your bed, muttering curses.

“Can I help you?”

You eyes blow wide in the darkness created by your face being compressed into the mattress.

Shit. Fuck. Dammit. You had missed your door and landed on Ghost’s bed. You pushed up from the mattress on hands and one knee. The other foot already searched for the ground.

“Nope, sorry Ghost. I just had a bad meeting and missed my door,” you can’t help the blush overtaking your face.

One foot on the floor you pull your torso up, ready to turn and race out of the room once your second foot touches the carpet.

“Pause.”

You freeze finally looking up to see Ghost working at his desk. He has a soft balaclava on today, still a skull painted on but much more inviting than the hard mask. He has no darkening makeup on today, you can see dark brows and light, fair skin of England showing through the hole in the mask. You devour the peek into him.

“Sit,” he turns from you pulling open a drawer of his desk.

You shift to do as you are told. He has never been unkind to you, just the opposite actually. The two men who chased you across the base had been reassigned across the country shortly after you joined the team. Neither of you said it out loud but you know that only Ghost had been aware of what happened.

He spins his chair back towards you. He holds out his e-reader. This thing goes everywhere with him. Ghost could be called a voracious reader. You glance between the small device and his face, not touching the offering.

“Pick anything you like, feel free to stay until you feel better.”

You reach forward, fingers slow to grasp. Once you have a firm grip he lets go and turns back to his work. Starting the device a book opens halfway through. You back out to the main page and scroll through the options.

Several of the titles garner a raised brow.

“Didn’t take you for a smut reader, Ghost.”

The only response is a creaking of the chair as he shifts. Your lips twitch with a smile. You choose a title vaguely familiar and start from the beginning. You read sitting on Ghost’s bed until the nightly debrief. The next day you find yourself knocking at his closed door. You’re just going to ask to borrow his reader until you can finish the story.

When he opens the door what could be called a smile reaches his eyes. The edges of them shift together the barest hint.

“It’s on the bed, right where you left off.”

Bashfulness overcomes you, forcing your gaze to swing down to your boots. You slip past him, sitting against the wall feet dangling off the bed. Once the story has well and truly sucked you in you reach down and remove your boots, eyes not leaving the words as they thud to the floor. Ghost doesn’t say a single word as you end up stretching across his bed feet swinging through the air.

A knock at the door jolts you out of the story. Price’s voice comes after a knock slightly farther away.

“Debrief will be a bit late today, 2030.”

You lock eyes with Ghost, remaining silent. As Price’s footsteps walk away you flip to a sitting position and shove your toes back into your boots. You set the reader down, focused on getting the ties just right. Once they feel tight enough you stand.

“Thanks for letting me read, I guess I will come back when you have a moment you can spare it.” You can’t keep your fingers from digging into your pockets. You can’t believe you rolled yourself all over his bed while reading.

“You are welcome any time. If you are close why don’t you take it tonight and return it in the morning?” his head tilts ever so slightly.

“Really?” Your brows rise as does your voice with the question. “If you don’t mind. I can finish the book after debrief and return it before lights out.”

“I don’t say things I don’t mean,” he raised a brow as a challenge.

“I’m not saying you do,” you glare at him. “Confirming your level of seriousness is not doubting you.”

“If you say so.”

You stick your tongue out at him.

“Careful with that thing, some could take it as an invitation.” He turns back to his desk as you gape at him.

Did Ghost flirt with you?

You snap up the e-reader, holding it close to your chest as you leave the room. You let the door hang ajar, knowing it bothers him.

You wander into the main room, tucking the small tablet into your side pocket. Setting the kettle to boil you prepare a cup for each man, dropping a preferred tea bag in each. As everyone settles in around the table you finish adding milk and sugar to mugs and passing them out. Ghost sits last.

“Sugar with tea for you,” you place the cup down in front of him and take the seat to his right.

Soap chuckled, “Go’ta say L.T. she’s got you pegged.”

“To bad we can’t throw her in our luggage for when we head home,” Gaz chimed in.

Price leaned back in his chair, “Well now there’s a thought. How long do you have left?”

You finish your sip of hot chocolate, “Only about a year, but I am not planning on re-upping.”

“Wanna come work for the 141?” Price lifts a brow at you.

“Put that offer in writing so I can get a visa and absolutely,” you grin. With how much Price griped about paperwork you doubted he would follow through on getting you a work visa.

He glared at you, “You drive a hard bargain.”

“Have you known me to do anything less?” you challenge.

“Do the paperwork Price, or I will.” Ghost dropped the statement like a smoking gun to a criminal case.

You smirk down into your cup, taking a sip to avoid a comment. Ghost hates paperwork more than Price and is so meticulous with it because he hates when he has to redo the ‘fucking devil’s work’.

The men leave the table as their tea is finished, rinsing the mugs before settling into the final activity of the night. You stay at the table and pull out the e-reader. The book sucks you back in.

“Is that Ghost’s reader?” Soap’s shocked voice rips you from the climax of the story.

“What? Uh, yeah.” You settle back into the battle, your main character taking a knife to the ribs.

“Did he let you borrow it or…” he lets the question hang, a noose swinging in the wind.

Irritated, you put the tablet down. Turning to look at Soap you reply.

“Of course he let me borrow it. I’ve been using it for a few days.”

Soap’s brows shoot up his forehead, nearly touching his mohawk.

“Really? Well that’s an interesting development.”

“I guess? Now my character just got stabbed so if there is nothing else I am going to finish this before lights out so I can return it.” You turn back to the table and get absorbed back into reading.

You return the reader to Ghost before bed, and only use it in behind the safety of his door until they leave.

✮✮✮

The anticipation of pain has never once made the pain hurt less.

They are leaving, your friends are heading home to the UK. Price is the one who sat you down and gave you the dates. Two days, in two days you would walk them to their plane and have to move on like you didn’t find family in some of the scariest men you have ever met. You hold it together until you get out of his sight.

Tears slip down your cheeks, a silent testament of the love that has grown for them. You slip into Ghost’s room. He should be out right now, off training with Roach. He isn’t.

Asleep with his boots on, Ghost is sprawled out across his bed. One hand dangles out over the edge. You sit against the bed, his arm draping over your shoulder. You hold his large hand in both of yours. You know he is probably awake, but he does you the kindness of staying still. He isn’t wearing his gloves today. Ghost had many healed scrapes and scars to explore. You let your fingers drift over his hand, bumping over every ridge.

You sniff as tears continue to flow down your cheeks, splattering against your shirt. It’s hard for you to believe that you can love these wacky guys to the point of pain at their departure. You slid right into the dynamic of the crew as if they had held a place for you. Cutting off arguments between the 141 and everyone else had become your primary job. You could talk down any member from retaliatory action for both minor and major slights. You toed the lines between both Price and the base commander to find common enough ground for their agreement to be settled. You still didn’t know why there were here, only that an agreement had been reached with you as a go-between more often than not. Now they were leaving. Leaving you behind. Knowing they have jobs waiting for them, for missions to be completed doesn’t ease the ache in your chest.

You stay like that, fingertips drifting over the skin of his hand until the storm in your chest has petered out and the only signs it ravaged your soul is the tracks on your cheeks and the tears drying on your shirt.

You sniff once, sliding your fingers to fit between his.

“I know you’re probably awake, but thank you for letting me use you for comfort.” You squeeze his fingers once before standing.

Scooting out and away from the bed you take care to not look at him. This private comfort you stole from his sleeping form could only be that, private. Seeing his eyes would shatter the flimsy barrier to your heart and you couldn’t afford to lose any more of that worn organ to men across the sea. Your fingers stayed locked with his as you stood, reaching, touching until at last the kiss of his fingerprints whispered their goodbyes.

You close the door softly behind you, heading for the bathroom. Standing before the mirror with the bright white light illuminating your blotchy face you tuck away your pain to deal with in the dark. You scrub your face with cool water and redo your hair. When the a soldier with a job looks back at you instead of a woman losing her family you leave the bathroom.

✮✮✮

 

Two days later you say your goodbyes. Your number is entered into so many new phones and you are repeatedly asked which secure platform you will use to chat with them all. Their flight is scheduled to leave at 0320, at midnight you are scouring the rooms they used confirming everyone has packed everything.

Ghost finds you ass in the air while your hand stretches for a book Gaz had been missing for three weeks. It had fallen between his bed and the wall. When you snag it you pull back triumphant. You see his legs first, glancing all the way up at his face.

“Oh, hi, Ghost. I am just checking everyone got everything before you all leave,” you smile up at him.

He doesn’t respond, just offering a hand down to you. You take it gratefully, pulling yourself up. Taking a step back you look him over. He is wearing his soft balaclava today, he tends to wear them when he needs to be more comfortable than scary.

“All ready to go home? I bet you are going to be glad for an overcast day and a good cuppa,” the happiness in your voice isn’t faked. Ghost has complained to you a few times about the terrible tea here.

“Ready to be home, not looking forward to the flight.” He looks you over scouring your face, his gaze scrapes like steel wool over your nerves. “Close you eyes and hold out your hands.”

The husky tone of his voice catches you off guard enough that you comply without thought. Gaz’s book is lifted from your hands, leaving them empty.

As you stand you hear the buzzing of the bright light above you, the sound of Velcro opening, and the quiet sounds of breaths, both yours and Ghosts. The fingers on your cheek are a surprise, the callouses marking your skin as they trail from your jaw to your eye.

You push your face into the touch, savoring the contact. His thumb brushes against your lips. You flick the tip of your tongue against it , tasting the ridges unique to that finger. He slides away from your mouth, thumb and fingers curling around your jaw and tipping your face up. He kisses you then. Riots start inside your body. Part of you yearns to open your eyes, devour him, touch the breadth of his flesh. The other, stronger part of you screws your eyes shut tighter, taking the gift as it is given and demanding nothing more.

He kisses as if he bottles his kindness and doles it out only for you. The press of his lips against yours will keep you going. He pulls back ever so slightly.

“I’ll see you in a year dove, stay safe,” he says the words against your lips, pressing them together once more. He puts something in your hands as he steps away, his fingers still on your face.

You keep your eyes closed, waiting for some sign it would be safe to open them again. His thumb taps your jaw before drifting away.

“Open your eyes already you silly bird,” the smile in his voice is unmistakable. His fingers slip away as your eyes open.

This mask is down again, you smirk up at him.

“Why am I a silly bird for respecting boundaries you big oaf? If you wanted me to see your face you wouldn’t have asked me to close my eyes.”

He shrugs, “Didn’t think you would let me kiss you if you saw it coming.”

You can’t stop the full belly laugh that erupts out of you. “I don’t know how to respond to that!”

Shaking your head you look down and pause. Your head snaps up.

“You’re giving me your e-reader? Why?” your brows draw together as you look at him.

He shrugs again, shoulders shifting just enough to indicate he didn’t have a real reason to share.

“It’s still logged in, feel free to buy any book that piques your interest.” His hands lift to your face, cupping your cheeks.

Your eyes flutter closed at the contact. His forehead connects with yours, his warm breath kissing your face as it filters through the mask.

“Don’t die before I get there okay?” You open your eyes, staring straight into his. This close you can see the variations of brown striping through them.

“Can’t promise nothin’, but I’ll do my best.” He sounds sincere.

You give into the urge to hug him. He hesitates before returning the gesture. You stand with him, listening to his heartbeat until you have soaked in the pressure of his presence. You pull back first, wiping at your eyes.

“Let’s get you to your ride, Price will come looking for you soon.”

You grab Gaz’s book, tuck the e-reader in a side pocket and walk with Ghost to the hanger. The silence between you is comfortable, and tinged with the moments you have shared in silence before.

As you get close you wave the book at Gaz who jogs over.

“Where did you find it? I looked everywhere,” he takes the book gratefully.

“Everywhere but under your bed obviously.”

Ghost snorts, walking past you to join Price near the gangplank of the plane. You’ve said all your goodbyes at this point. You only stay to see them off. Everyone but Ghost gives you a hug or a pat on the back as the board the plane. You wave until the door shuts and watch until the dim lights of the wings are swallowed by the darkness.

You blow out a breath and speak into the darkness.

“One year, you can make it one more year.”

✮✮✮

Six months in you can tell things are getting bad for them. It takes longer and longer for replies to come in to your messages and when Soap is willing to share whats happening it is summed up in a single word.

Mole.

They go dark for another three months. Your days are filled with a background of worry and a foreground of doing what you are told.

Ghost is the one who breaks the silence.

>Your paperwork is through, you visa should arrive soon.

The cheer you give in the mess hall has every eye on you. Pinching your lips between your teeth you clean up your tray and slip outside.

>Anything special I should do after it arrives?

His reply comes quick.

>Pack.

You laugh. Some would miss the dry wit with which he pokes at you. You miss him, them.

>I have a few months left before I am out. Should I fly into Heathrow?

>Yes. Send Price your flight details and someone will come get you.

You send a kissy face emoji in response, imagining the eye roll that this would incite.

The final three months slip by like water. Your off time is filled with nailing down travel details and fighting with Price via email over the contract he sent you. He set up a fair contract, but he wanted you on his team so why not ask for a few extra vacation days?

✮✮✮

Soap is the one to pick you up when your flight lands. You drag your achy bones through customs, the clash of accents all around you weighing on your brain.

You set your bags down to hug him. He laughs.

“Miss me bonnie lass?”

You mumble your reply into his chest.

“I’m not anyone’s ‘bonnie lass’.” You nearly match his accent on the words.

“I donne believe you, but tis good to see you back. Let’s get you to HQ.” He looks down at your bags, “This all you have?”

You ignore the prick of judgment the question causes in you. There is nothing wrong with a transatlantic move that only has you bring a carry on and a backpack.

“That’s it, I pack pretty light. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

He gives you a heavy side eye.

“Never said there was.”

Conversation falls back into familiar territory as Soap fights his way out of the airport, car inching forward until they are at last out of the city. You don’t fight the pull of your eyelids to meet in sleep as Soap sings along to the radio. A hand on your shoulder wakes you. Soap smirks at you from the other seat.

“Rise and shine sleeping beauty.”

You roll your eyes and focus beyond the windshield at an old barn. You glance at Soap, confused.

He chuckles as he replies, “England is old, we have to reuse what we can.”

“Alright, whatever you say.” You step out of the car, feeling odd to be leaving the left side as a passenger.

You leave your bags in the car. Soap wanted to introduce you to the full team before showing you to the shared flat you would be living in until you could secure your own lodgings.

He is talking about the area, waving his arms this way and that pointing out the range and the picnic tables. He pulls open a person sized door beside the massive barn doors.

“We’re ho-” his shout into the building is cut off.

Something wet sprays across the side of your face. You snap your gaze to Soap. His face is gone, just a mass of bloody tissue gushing blood to the floor.

The scream that erupts from you is genuine. You had managed to avoid combat with the army and had never seen what a bullet could do to someone’s face. He falls slowly, almost as if his body is still fighting against gravity.

A hand claps over your mouth, unfamiliar voices yelling at you to ‘hush up or end up like him.’

You are dragged further into the building before your wrists are secured behind you. You are hurled into a large, windowless room landing next to the gasping body of Gaz. He can’t see you since his eyes are gone.

You vomit, doing your best to aim it away from him. When all the acid has been purged from your body you look around between dry heaves. Roach is hanging by his hands to a hook coming from the ceiling, Price’s face is slowly being peeled away as questions are being shouted at him. Ghost is missing, but you can’t decide if that is a good or bad thing.

Gaz starts to choke, bloody spittle dotting the floor in front of him. You scoot closer to him and lay your head on his. You can’t save him dammit but you can at least let him know he isn’t alone as he goes.

“It’s okay Gaz, you can go. Just stop fighting, rest.” The panic flooding your body makes it hard to talk.

He calms at your voice though, one final cough splattering the knees of your jeans. Gone.

You are wrenched upwards by your hair. You scream and stand, anything to relieve the pressure on your scalp. You are forced to stand before Price, your friend.

You can see a silver molar wink at you from his mangled face.

“Who is this Price?” The question comes from a calm voice.

How could anyone be calm at this time? Your eyes can’t settle on a single thing, flicking from person to person looking for a way out.

“No one, just a new liaison. Just flew in.”

The fact he answers the question tells you there is no way out of this.

A commotion at the door draws everyone’s gaze. Ghost is being dragged in by the back of his shirt, head lolling.

“Look what we found hiding in the rafters, a ghost!” All the men standing laugh as if this is all some big joke.

They tie him to a chair right next to Price. When they rip off his mask you look away.

“Ah lads, she is shy about his face. Good thing there won’t be much to see after we are done with him,” the man with his hand in your hair chortles.

They torture him, making you watch. Each scream from your friends snaps a tenuous hold on reality. Something deep in your brain stem seems to break when you see the bullet enter Price’s skull then hear it blast through Ghost’s. You aren’t anything any more. Nothing can touch you because while your body pumps blood your soul has followed your friends to the afterlife.

They don’t let you in of course, the angels dither over where to send you. You slip away from the pearly gates as they argue, wandering the fence that blocks paradise until hear the hooting laughter of Price getting caught off guard by a particularly funny joke. You find them all playing cards as if they were waiting for you. A cheer goes up and Ghost offers you a hand to hold.

✮✮✮

The night nurse can’t keep a yawn from her face. She takes a long swallow of her energy drink. She was getting to old for this shift. She stands her knees cracking like rice cripsies. Her trainee jumping up joined her.

“Let’s do rounds, midnight is pretty hopping around here. We have several patients that get restless around that time.”

Moving to the door she keys in the code for the day to enter the ward. She leads the way to the craft room. Most of the patients tended to congregate here during the night. The emergency lights meant this room never reached the level of darkness of the personal rooms.

Only one patient today, a young woman from the States who had been deemed too mentally unstable to stand trial. The doctors keep her heavily medicated for fear of her harming herself or others. The nurses gave extra doses of meds as they were able, her constant weeping scared the other patients. 

“Ah, just one tonight. This one you do need to watch out for though when you are working,” the older nurse watched from the doorway as her patient stared out the window rocking slowly.

“Why? She doesn’t look like trouble.” The baby nurse had so much to learn.

“First rule of psych, crazy is always strong. Second is that looks have no bearing on the mind. She’s from the States, word is that she tortured and killed at least eight men who were all special forces trained. The thought around here is that she had a mental break and snapped. Not that I believe that much anymore. Management has mentioned that her former commander from the US is filing a lawsuit to get her case reopened. I looked it up, turns out she never saw combat so there is no way she could have taken out eight trained men. The US embassy is trying to get her home.”

“Oh,” the baby nurse took in the information, slightly more worried about their career choice than before the shift started.

“You’ll do fine, let’s go do our bed checks.” The older nurse turned away from the craft room. “There is nothing else we can do to help her.”

Masterlist

[plzu]

covfefe (the epilogue) - (Adrian Chase x Reader)

part 10 ☕️ series masterlist ☕️ ao3

a/n: thanks for sticking with me ♡ summary: What happens after the team saves the world from an alien invasion. warnings: canon typical language, no y/n, sex mention but no graphic depictions of smut, mention of trauma regarding assault, lmk if i missed anything!! wordcount: 2.9k

He made the mistake of passing out at the hospital. Doctors and nurses had to remove his suit in order to look him over and tend to his wounds. That meant taking his helmet off, too, and Adrian was much too unconscious to break anyone's hand about it.

When he first wakes up in that sterile room, face exposed and clothed in nothing but a thin hospital gown, he almost freaks out. The only thing that stopped him from groggily attempting to snap the neck of the nurse at his bedside was a sudden surge of drowsiness that swam through his veins, making him go cross-eyed. The last thing he saw before his eyes slipped shut was the unfocused silhouette of the nurse splitting into two.

The second time, he's greeted by the sight of your face, visage softened without the aid of his glasses, but lovely all the same. When you notice he's awake, a grin lights up your face (and, likewise, Adrian’s heart). Saving the world from an alien invasion was cool, sure, but nothing compares to the feeling of being the one to make you smile.

“Hey,” he greets with a growing grin of his own. “What are you doing here? How’d you know where to find me?”

You reach for the bedside table to pick up his glasses, and gently ease them over the bridge of his nose. Your face comes into stark focus as you hover over him, and he’s grateful for the clear sight of your eyes. “Your BFF Chris came and told me.” 

(Chris thought you’d be the perfect distraction to keep Adrian from doing something rash, like breaking out prematurely and/or killing the medical professionals just trying to do their jobs. An admittedly good idea, considering Adrian is just pleased as a peach that you came to visit and dote on him.)

“You're my BFF, too, you know,” he feels the need to assure you. He doesn't want you to get the wrong idea. Wants you to understand just how important you are to him, how you've cemented yourself into his life. He has no intention of letting you slip away again.

He missed out in high school. Adrian doesn't want to make that same mistake again.

Amusement glimmers in the softness of your eyes. “I guess I'll take your word for it, Chase. I'm just glad you're okay.”

“Of course I'm okay. Why wouldn't I be okay?"

There's a pitcher of water at his bedside table that you pick up and pour into a small plastic cup. You hand it to him.

"You're in the hospital," you say, very matter-of-factly.

"Yeah,” he responds, before taking a small sip of water that quickly turns into big desperate gulps as his tongue realizes how fucking parched it is.

“Adrian. Chris told me about everything that went down. You, like, blew yourself up.”

Oh, right, yeah. The White Dragon fight. He miscalculated that grenade a bit. Nothing a little nap couldn't fix, though.

“You got shot.”

That did also happen. Didn't hit anything vital, though! He was able to walk that one off after another quick nap.

Mostly.

“And I heard what happened to your, uh," you continued, brow scrunching as you sat back into the chair you had pulled up to his bedside, trying to find the words. “The, um, the blonde? Hardcore? It just sounds like it was dangerous-”

”Wait,” he interrupts. “Did you just say 'Hardcore?'”

“Yeah? The, um- the hot, mean-looking chick? Short hair? White? Her, like… codename is Hardcore, right? That’s what I- I heard."

“Uh, no, silly,” Adrian laughs, because you're so funny and cute and incorrect, it just tickles him. “It's Harcourt, and I’m pretty sure that’s just her last name.”

“What?” Your eyes widen before dropping your face into your hands, groaning in embarrassment. “I hope I didn't call her that in front of anyone else.”

As if to save you from further teasing, a nurse comes just in time to check on Adrian, and when you notice, you stand and place a gentle but firm hand on his shoulder. Adrian thinks it's a touching gesture of support, like maybe you think he's scared? But then he realizes the weight you're putting, and he catches the adamant look in your eye.

“Ohhh, you're restraining me,” he says. The nurse glances anxiously between you. With a smirk, Adrian adds, “it's cute that you think you can pin me down.”

Without missing a beat, you grin, and there's something mischievous about it as you wink at him. “Jus' making sure you behave,” you simper. It makes something in him stir; there's an uptick in the beeping of the monitor he's hooked up to.

This is all very unfortunate as the hospital sheets and gowns seem to be made of the thinnest, flimsiest fabric in the world. The nurse very politely ignores the sudden tent at Adrian’s middle and rushes through the rest of the check up before scurrying away with a clearing of their throat.

“Do you think that male nurse -- sorry, that regular nurse -- noticed my boner?”

“Nahhh,” you lie.

Conversation flits between you after that. You share some granola bars with him that had been tucked away in your jacket pockets. When Adrian mentions something about getting discharged soon (whether they clear him or not), you start pacing back and forth alongside the bed.

“About that,” you start, very visibly nervous and suddenly unable to maintain eye contact. “I was, um. I was wondering- well. See, my dad decided he wants to sell the house.”

Adrian's not exactly sure what that has to do with him getting out of the hospital, until you meander and nervously chuckle your way to the bit about needing to find a place to stay.

“I just figured, maybe, since you might need someone to take care of you when you’re out of here, and since you don't actually have a roommate, that maybe I could, probably -- if you don't mind, of course -- stay... with you?”

Adrian blinks. He processes.

“J-just until I find my own place!” You rush to add. “And- like, you don't have to say yes, obviously. I know it's a crazy idea-”

”You want to move in? With me?”

You finally meet his gaze again. You bite your bottom lip, frown, and nod a simple affirmation.

This might be a good time to mentally take stock of the pros and cons of having you move in.

Pros: 1) he'd get to see you all the time 2) like, way more often than he does now, which is cool 3) it’d help with rent, which is a pretty sick bonus

Cons: 1)

Huh, nope, no cons. The very thought of not having to part ways with you at the end of the night has no verifiable downsides. He's been worried this whole time that your time in Evergreen would be cut short. Agonizingly temporary and finite. But now you'd be his roommate, and it'll be way easier to convince you not to leave if you already live with him.

Plus, he now knows what it's like to have you wrapped around his dick. If you move in, he'd get to taste you way more often.

Shit. Fuck. The boner is back.

”Are you-? Did asking to move in just make you horny?”

“Yeah,” he sheepishly admits.

The anxiety disappears from your face. Transforms into silent amusement. “So... is that a yes, then?”

It's a very enthusiastic and consensual yes, and you spend the rest of the visit discussing your move, and declining his request for a quickie in his hospital bed.

“Oomph!” 

You land on your back, legs plopping ungracefully down onto the damp ground beneath you. The wind brushes against the canopy of trees overhead, making sunlight coruscate in your vision through the shifting branches and pines. 

Vigilante’s scuffed helmet appears above you. “Ooh, that looked like it hurt,” Adrian says, helmet doing nothing to hide the teasing lilt to his voice. “Ready to give up?” He holds out a gloved hand.

“Please,” you scoff, accepting his help to stand. “I can take a hit.” The cold from the dead damp  leaves seep in through your leggings. You brush away sticky pine needles from your butt, though you’re not sure it matters. You’ll probably end up flat on your back again in no time.

“Yeah, I know. It’s one of the things that’s so hot about you.” Though you can’t see it, you know his eyebrows are doing something endearingly goofy behind the visor.

It's only been a few weeks since Leota went public about Project Butterfly (without revealing Vigilante’s secret identity!), and Adrian discretely discharged himself from the hospital. (By jumping out the window. Something you don’t think a person healing from a gunshot wound should be doing, but Adrian isn’t exactly like other people.) 

You’re unsure how long recovery is supposed to take after what Adrian went through, but you get the feeling that he’s bounced back unnervingly quick. Like, there’s strenuous activity he should definitely be abstaining from for a little while, but Adrian kind of just shrugs and goes about life as normal. For example, there’s some heavy lifting he eagerly volunteered to (helping you move boxes of your stuff from your parent’s house to his place). Or the vigorous physical activity that consisted of fucking you breathlessly into his couch. 

You tried convincing him to take it easy, you did. Even offered that if he really needed release, you’d happily take care of him, provide a helping hand and mouth as long as he sat still. But it wasn’t enough, apparently; your resolve was quick to crumble at the pretty sight of Adrian’s flushed face and the sound of his desperate, urgent begging to let him put in “just the tip.”

(It was never just the tip.)

This suspiciously speedy recovery, however, gave you the courage to ask him for the favor that currently has you bruised and aching in the middle of the woods.

(“I want to do what you do,” you said.)

He perked up. “Really? Because the last time I brought up pegging, you laughed so hard you passed out.”)

After that misunderstanding was cleared up, though, you were surprised at how eagerly Adrian agreed to teach you how to fight. There was a small part of you that was worried he’d say no, that it was too dangerous, or something ridiculous like that. He only asked why, and though it may not have been the truth, you just told him it looks really cool when he does it.

The lie -- that wasn’t really a lie, more of a replacement of the truth -- was worth it to see Adrian’s pretty green eyes light up. “You think I look cool? I mean-” his chin jutted out with  self-assured confidence. “Of course I look cool.”

And he does look cool. Standing in the clearing in all black, not quite in the Vigilante suit since it needs to get repaired (or replaced). The helmet was the only part of the suit that wasn't riddled with holes, so it's the only thing he's wearing that's recognizably Vigilante. And it is, admittedly... doing something for you.

The suit — specifically the red visor — was scary at first. Unsettling. Even though it's the mask of the man that saved you that horrible night, it was also the mask of the man that killed people so mercilessly -- gleefully, even -- right in front of you.

Not that those guys deserved mercy.

But it was the first time you'd ever witnessed something so brutal up close, and so the red visor stitched itself into your nightmares, despite finding out it was Adrian underneath. Maybe even because of.

But now...

As Adrian shows you what your stance should look like to remain balanced, points out all the points in a person's body that you can hit to make them falter and give you an opening for the finishing blow (or rather, the time to run), you're beginning to find the mask kind of...

Well, fuck. Okay. It's hot. The mask is hot. You were mad at it for hiding Adrian's comfortingly familiar face from you, but now that you've gotten used to it, it's eased itself from nightmare to wet dream. Maybe it's the extra layer of confidence that it provides Adrian — he's different as Vigilante. Not so much, no. It's subtle. But it makes every little head movement and gesture and teasing quip that much hotter.

You won't, like, admit this, of course. He'd be unbearable if he knew just how big of an effect it has on you. He's bad enough as it is, just from knowing which parts of your neck to linger at so he can draw out the sounds that he seems to like so much.

“You're going to be the prettiest sidekick.” Adrian's compliment snaps you from your thoughts. His words -- and the way his head cocks to the side a bit, the way his shoulders sag forward with the weight of his adoration -- makes your cheeks warm despite the near-condescending tone of it.

You shake it off, bouncing on the balls of your feet so he doesn't notice how much he’s flustered you. “I'm not doing this to be Vigilante's sidekick, you know.” 

(You’re doing this because of the nightmares you still have, where you find yourself in cramped alleyways and other dark, shrouded places, nightmares where multiple hands touch you, grab you, overpower you. Nightmares where your limbs feel weak and boneless and your fists have no weight to them when you try fighting back the figures that hurt and taunt you. Nightmares that still linger despite moving in with Adrian, the safest you’ve felt in a long time.)

“You're not?” He seems taken aback. “Because you don’t have to land the killing blow as the sidekick, you know. If you’re squeamish about that sort of thing,” he shrugs.

His genuine confusion is amusing. “Is that what you've been thinking this whole time? That you’re, like, training me to be your sidekick?” Honestly, it's kind of flattering that he'd think you'd be good enough to do what he does, right alongside him.

“Well, yeah. You said I look cool! And everyone knows imitation is the best form of flattery.”

Ah. Some things start to click about his relationship with Peacemaker, and the potential origin of Vigilante. Instead of asking him to confirm this, though, you decide to tease him.

“So, is that what you are? Peacemaker's sidekick?”

“What? No,” he responds, voice firm and clearly offended. “Peacemaker and I are partners-”

“In crime,” you nod.

“Yes- No!” 

You listen with growing glee and fondness as Adrian continues to explain, accompanied by expressive hand gestures, his relationship with Peacemaker, and how they are equals, thank-you-very-much.

It's been nice spending days with Adrian like this, without being bogged down by anxiety-laden time restraints of having to get back to your parent's house. Nightmares aside, you genuinely feel... lighter, now that you're no longer under their roof. The freedom makes you giddy, looser. You laugh easier, and not just with Adrian. You make time to hang out with Ashe and Matty, and are surprised by how much you actually enjoy spending time with them outside of work. They're good kids.

And, though you weren't so sure about it at first, you find that Adrian's new teammates are decent people, too. Chris is a bit rough around the edges, and everyone is a little mean in a way that you enjoy observing, but they're nice to you, at least. Leota even gave you her number so you can talk to someone normal, that isn't a complete asshole. She sends you pictures of her dogs. You coo at them, and show Adrian, and he pretends he's not a little jealous over the way you gush adoringly at the photos.

You never tell anyone about your mother, how she was involved in your hostage situation. How she's one of the Butterflies. You figured there was no point, now that their food supply has been destroyed. You don't even tell your father, though you suspect he already figured it out. He looked less haggard when he told you about the decision to sell the house.

Remembering that there’s no glowering parent to return home to ignites that light, bubbly feeling in you again. Your mood turns playful, no longer able to take the training session seriously.

So you charge at Adrian, trying to catch him off guard.

He's surprised, but, as you predicted, his reflexes and instincts are superior. He uses your momentum against you. Swiftly wrestles you down onto the ground. He has your wrists pinned above your head in his right hand in no time.

“Did you really think you could sneak up on... me?” The cocky tone dwindles down to confusion when he realizes you've been giggling the whole time he grappled you down into the cushion of dirt and leaves.

This close to your face, you can see the way his eyes search yours behind the red visor. The weight of him pressing into you makes heat excitedly pool at your center.

You wiggle your hips.

Something stiffens in his pants against your thigh.

”Oh,” he mumbles.

And when you hook your legs around his and hear the rustle of leaves around your head as Adrian gets the hint to fuck you in the middle of the woods, you think, maybe Evergreen isn't so bad after all.

taglist: @whatevermonkey @hiddlebatchedloki @nobodys-baby-now @navs-bhat @afraidofshrimp @training4theapocalypse @abbaenthusiast @jediviolet @t0byisher3 @madhyanas @kores-mun-son-n-more

[anyasathenaeum]

Hi ! Can i request reaction vash & wolfwood ? Since y/n was a medic in the team they thought y/n weak but one day she beat up all bad guy alone it shock all the team.

Ps : I so many a idea but i can't make story or headcanon

Thank you for reading this 🥺✨

A/N: My own trisona is a medic so I LOVE THIS REQUEST. I absolutely can do this! I think this deserves to be a mini-blurb rather than headcanons. Enjoy!

Vash the Stampede

"Aw, man! Not again!"

You heard Vash exclaim from near you as you hid behind one of the many houses in the town, narrowly avoiding bullets as they ricocheted off the bricks near you. Just your and Vash's luck - a bunch of bandits had rolled into the town just as you and your team were trying to leave, and now, you were all trapped. You shared some concerned looks with Vash and Meryl, but Wolfwood, of course, was as cool and calm as ever. You tried to take a deep breath and calm yourself - you knew that if it came down to it, you'd fight.

You didn't often have to fight as the medic on the team. Your primary role was patching up the others and occasionally patching up people in the towns you guys passed through to make some extra money. So, as a result, your other team members protected you and treated you like you would be unable to handle yourself if it came down to you needing to fight another person.

However, what they didn't know was that you actually had more experience fighting than you let on. You knew them protecting you came from a good place and a desire to protect you, especially Vash. The way he would wrap his arms around your waist and tug you into cover, his eyes constantly scanning you from head to toe ensuring you weren't hurt, his gaze constantly returning to where you were even in the middle of a fight, you knew he only wanted you safe. It made your heart flutter in your chest and heat rise to your face, and you didn't feel the need to divulge that you could actually fight.

All that was about to be thrown out the window, though, as a homemade grenade was thrown by one of the bandits and landed near your group.

"Grenade!" You screamed at the top of your lungs, causing everybody to jump and scramble in any direction they could to get away from the explosive. Unfortunately, that caused you all to split up and you were each now exposed and alone.

And sure enough, a bunch of bandits surrounded you, eager to take a hostage they could use against the town to get whatever they were after.

"Well, well, well! Lookie here, a healer! You guys are rare, might have to keep a hold on you!" One of the bandits exclaimed, almost gleefully. You felt your stomach drop to your feet - there was definitely no way out of this without a fight.

In a matter of seconds, you'd glanced and tallied how many bandits surrounded you and what your surroundings were. Four bandits were standing around you, and there was plenty of rubble and chunks of blown up building around you. Perfect.

Before the bandits could even process what was happening, you swiftly incapacitated two of the four bandits, knocking them out with quick, hard hits and dropping them to the ground. You then went after the third, swinging your bag and using it as a weapon and you heard a loud "clang!" as the metal in your bag made contact with the third bandit's head, causing them to also drop to the ground, knocked out cold. The last bandit, who seemed to have some kind of sense left in them, turned and began to high tail it out of there, but you quickly threw a decently big piece of broken building and nailed the bandit in the back, causing them to fall, too. Within a matter of maybe a minute, you'd taken out the whole group of bandits who'd surrounded you.

As you brushed your sleeves off and picked your bag back up, you were startled by a voice from behind you.

"Woah... (Y/N)... I never knew you could fight like that!"

You turned to see Meryl, Vash and Wolfwood all standing there, their expressions varying from amazement to surprise to just pure awe. You recognized that it was Meryl who had spoken. As you looked back at them, you just smiled sheepishly.

"Haha... yeah. I've actually been in a fair amount of fights before. You guys just... protect me a lot. Which I don't mind, but I want to be able to protect you guys, too."

You found your gaze resting on Vash as you spoke, and you swore you saw a hint of pink creeping into the man's cheeks and the tips of his ears as he looked back at you, a soft smile appearing on his face at your words. To say Vash was impressed by you at this moment was an understatement - he found you absolutely incredible. How was he lucky enough to have somebody like you as a friend?

'And maybe... eventually, as more than a friend, hopefully...' Vash thought to himself, his blush darkening.

Nicholas D. Wolfwood

You barely had time to register the sight of the police pulling out their guns before you were yanked down hard, just in time for bullets to whizz over the top of your head, striking the wall behind where your head had just been.

"Seriously, sweetheart, have you got a death wish or somethin'?"

You heard Wolfwood's gruff voice snapping at you, and you knew that he had been the one to pull you down and out of the way of gunfire. You glanced up at Wolfwood and watched his face, watching as his brows furrowed as he evaluated the situation. You could see him trying to figure a way out of this mess, but he must've come to the conclusion that the only way out was to go out guns blazing as he was beginning to take the cover off his cross.

"Stop, Wolfwood, wait!" You hissed, grabbing his sleeve and pulling him hard to get him to look at you.

Wolfwood just shot you a disapproving look, a smirk appearing on his face and a sarcastic tone creeping into his voice, "What, sweetheart? You planning to be my human shield or something? You're just a medic, this isn't your fight so stay down."

Something about the way he said that push your buttons harder than anything he'd said previously, and you felt your anger flare up within you. How dare he assume you were incapable to take care of yourself, and just because you had chosen to develop skills to heal others instead of harm them.

Before you had a moment to contemplate what you were doing, you found yourself pulling out a small gun you kept on you, cocking back the hammer and standing up quickly, just enough so that your were just barely peaking over the little alcove where you and Wolfwood had been hiding.

You quickly set your sights on the police who had been firing at the two of you, and in a matter of a couple of seconds, you fired a series of shots so accurate that your bullets knocked the police officers' weapons straight out of their hands without harming them or even drawing blood.

"Leave!" You screamed at the police officers, reloading your gun and targeting them, "Leave now or I'll aim to kill!"

The police officers didn't have to think twice about that, sprinting away from the scene, leaving their weapons behind as they ran off, likely going to get reinforcements before returning. However, thankfully, you had bought yourself and Wolfwood time to escape now.

Reholstering your gun, you turned to Wolfwood only to see him watching you with an absolutely stunned expression.

"What?" You snapped at him, "You got something to say, Undertaker? Or you gonna sit there looking like a dumb statue until they come to arrest you?"

With that, you turned and began to sprint off, leaving Wolfwood to catch up with you. After a couple moments, Wolfwood came to his senses and grabbed his cross before running after you, a smile on his lips.

"Damn, (Y/N)," He chuckled under his breath as he ran, "You're just full of surprises, aren't you, sweetheart?"

Safe to say, Wolfwood would ensure to never underestimate you ever again and was happy that you were on his side.

[pinchofhoney]

Can I get a Jack request where reader is like castiel level protective over him? Like it could he during the time he was burning away his soul, or Dean just attacking him and reader getting super protective? Thanks <3

Also thank you sm for being my mutual <333

like real people do

jack kline x reader

word count: 1.6k

warning: the events were made up by me, but in time they probably take place in thirteenth season, platonic relationship

summary: Ever had one of those days when life just can't get any worse?

a/n: thank you so much for your request!! once i read the first four words and found out it was about jack i was so happy! this character makes me feel like hiding him in my jacket pocket and protecting him from the whole world, including my favourite white boy; dean. i hope you will enjoy it!!<33 it's so funny that we clicked so quickly because of ketch hahah

pages that may interest you: masterlist ♡ taglist ♡ who i write for

gif is not mine, credit to the owner

What does it mean to have a bad day? For some, it might involve a pointless hunt for a missing sock in the early hours. Others might deem it a disastrous day if they find themselves in a nerve-wracking business meeting, their professional future hanging by a thread, only to be unexpectedly showered in scalding coffee. But let me tell you, what went down in South Dakota, well, that was beyond any bad day anyone's ever had.

Walking down the bunker's cold, metal stairs, your eyes stayed fixed on Sam's broad back. The echoes of two more pairs of footsteps behind you added an unspoken burden to all four of you. The lengthy, six-hour drive from Sioux Falls passed in silence, punctuated only by the occasional growl of Dean's car engine.

In the midst of this oppressive silence, a tangible anxiety filled the atmosphere, much like the sensation of holding a grenade with a fragile safety pin. Each of you knew that speaking the first word out loud could be equivalent to pulling that pin, possibly setting off a surge of emotions and consequences you weren't prepared to deal with at that moment.

As you finally reached the colossal table stationed at the heart of the spacious room, you wearily rested your hands on the chair's backrest, your head drooping in helpless resignation. A deep sigh escaped your lungs, carrying the weight of the day's exhaustion. In the stillness that followed, you could discern Sam's chair scraping against the floor on the opposite side of the table as he settled himself heavily into it and Dean's footsteps resonated down the corridor, indicating his retreat to the kitchen.

Lifting your exhausted head, you gave a quick once-over to your disheveled clothing, recognizing its disorder. It had not only withstood the harsh impact of multiple falls today but was also stained with splotches of blood. Nervously, you ran your hand through your hair, attempting to regain some semblance of composure. Pushing away from the chair, you turned on your heel, scanning the room with a sense of restless anticipation.

You stopped your gaze on the young man by the stairs, who had stayed there the whole time. His face showed a mix of confusion, sympathy, and regret. Your lower lip was gently caught between your teeth as you pondered your next steps. When his gaze met yours, you drew a shallow breath. His appearance wasn't any better than yours, but because he was still Lucifer's son, he appeared more composed than you.

With determination, you approached him step by cautious step until you were standing alongside him. “Jack, are you alright?” you asked, your voice reflecting genuine worry. A quick glance back at Sam, who remained seated at the table, revealed that he was now observing your interaction. You then shifted your attention back to Jack, waiting for his response.

Jack's reply hung in the air like a heavy cloud, his voice a somber murmur that revealed the depth of his guilt. His gaze dropped to his fidgeting hands, fingers twisting in anguish as he confessed, “It's all my fault...”

You couldn't help but feel a pang of sympathy as you witnessed the torment in Jack's eyes. In an attempt to ease the crushing weight of his self-blame, you placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. “Hey,” you said gently, your voice a soothing balm, “you're not alone in this. None of us expected it to go down like that.”

Sam, the voice of reason, chimed in from his seat at the table. His tone was calm and reassuring as he added, “Jack, we knew it wouldn't be easy. We'll figure this out together.”

Jack looked up at both of you. His eyes were pools of sorrow, and he seemed on the brink of tears, even though he didn’t know what emotions are. “But you guys almost got killed because of me. I couldn't control my powers, and I let them get too close.”

Before you could offer words of reassurance, Dean's voice cut through the room like a sharp blade, “That’s damn right,” he snapped. His anger was palpable, and you could feel the tension rise as he entered with a bottle of beer in his hand. You had been so focused on Jack's emotions that you hadn't noticed Dean approaching.

Your attention shifted to Dean, and it was clear that he had no intentions of concealing his rage. Such suppression was never in his nature. He scrutinized both of you with an intense gaze, his jaw clenched tight, the lines of his face etched with frustration and anger.

Dean proceeded to the table, his movements forceful as he shoved one chair back with a grating screech before taking a seat. The bottle of beer landed on the table with a heavy thud, emphasizing his simmering anger, and the room seemed to shrink with the weight of his emotions. It was a moment where words hung in the balance, and the fragile tension in the air threatened to shatter at any moment.

Jack’s connection to his human emotions was weak, but regret had clear place in his eyes, keenly sensed Dean's anger. His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed hard, and he shifted uncomfortably, his body language a reflection of the confusion within him. In a moment of desperation, he cast a furtive glance in your direction, silently pleading for support, his eyes searching for any sign of comfort.

You, on the other hand, found yourself torn between conflicting emotions. Your heart ached for Jack, understanding the crushing guilt that weighed on him, yet you also knew the importance of not undermining Dean's authority. It was a delicate balancing act that you had become all too familiar with, navigating in these tense moments.

Dean finally broke the oppressive silence, his voice laced with bitterness that hung in the air like a heavy cloud. “You know, Jack, your little power surge not only almost got us killed, but it also cost us Castiel at the very beginning of your existence. You may not remember, but he sacrificed himself to save you.”

Jack's expression remained stoic, but his eyes bore the weight of remorse as he regarded the hunter. “I didn't ask him to,” he replied, his voice carrying the burden of the past.

Dean's face remained unyielding, his anger unwavering in the face of Jack's distress. He leaned forward, his gaze locked on the young Nephilim. “Doesn't change the fact that he's gone because of you.”

The room seemed to shrink with the intensity of the moment, emotions swirling like a storm around the three of you. Jack's regret was a silent force, Dean's anger an unrelenting presence, and you, caught in the middle, felt the weight of the situation pressing down on you like a heavy shroud.

You decided to step in, taking a deep breath to calm yourself as you tried to ease the heavy tension in the room. You spoke gently, "Dean, listen," in a calm and careful way, "Jack didn't want these powers, and he didn't want Cas to save him. None of us knew this would happen."

Dean looked at you, his anger softening just a bit as he heard your caring tone. You had been through a lot with the Winchesters, so you knew how emotions could run high.

But Dean, being stubborn as ever, couldn't let go of his anger towards Jack. He narrowed his eyes at you and replied with bitterness,

“Yeah, well, empathy won't bring Cas back,” he retorted, the pain of loss seeping through every syllable. “Neither will help any of the people who have been harmed today, because of him.”

Jack, still struggling to contain his emotions, lowered his head in acknowledgment. He understood the depth of Dean's anger, and he carried the weight of guilt knowing that nothing he said could bring back the angel who had given his life to protect him.

You exchanged a quick, supportive glance with Jack, a silent understanding passing between you two. Then, you turned your steady attention back to Dean, determined to break through the walls of resentment that had formed around him. “We're all hurting, Dean,” you said, your voice laced with sincerity. “But pointing fingers and blaming Jack won't change the past. We have to move forward together if we're going to face the challenges that lie ahead.”

Dean's jaw clenched, and he took another long, deliberate sip from his beer bottle, as if using the act as a moment of respite from his simmering anger. It was clear that he was still seething, but your words had managed to make some impact, no matter how small.

“Fine,” he grumbled, his anger not completely gone but his tone less harsh. He reluctantly agreed to try and move forward, but he was still stubborn. “But don't think for a second that I'm okay with any of this.”

You nodded, acknowledging Dean's raw emotions. “We know you're not, Dean. But we're a team, and we need to stick together.”

Jack, encouraged by your words and Dean's reluctant acceptance, finally found the courage to speak up again. “I promise, I'll do everything in my power to make amends and prove myself to all of you.”

Dean's gaze remained fixed on his beer bottle, and while he didn't offer immediate forgiveness or approval, he also didn't object further. It was a tenuous truce, fragile as glass, but it was some kind of a start, and everyone knows that the beginnings are always the hardest.

[ilguna]

Expired Medicine Pls! Bucky & #5?

☼ left behind but never forgotten (Bucky Barnes) ☼

warnings; swearing, death, death mention, gun use, grenade use, fighting, injuries.

wc; 3.5k

prompt; 5. "I'll come back for you, I promise."

notes; spoilers for captain america the winter soldier.

--

 The halls of the hospital are busy, swarming with doctors and nurses. They flip through pages of documents, some of them dodging in and out of rooms. If there’s any bad time to be on a mission, it’s now. In a place that’s supposed to be secure and safe from danger. 

You told Steve that you’d come inside by yourself to retrieve the flash drive, but he didn’t trust you, wanting to make sure that he got it, himself. So, you follow behind him, letting him lead the way. He has his navy blue hood pulled up to block the view of his blonde hair and to shadow some of his more notable features. You know that he wants to avoid drawing attention, but you think it makes him look more suspicious than not. 

His pace comes to a slow pace as he stops in front of the vending machine. On the way, he told you that he put the flash drive behind three sticks of bubblegum while the employee was stocking it. He wanted it here for safe keeping because he’d gone back with some of the SHIELD members. And with Fury’s warning, he didn’t want to take any chances. 

You come up beside him, looking over his shoulder. Your eyes search the entire machine, looking for the aforementioned bubblegum. You even take a step back to get a bigger picture, but you come up with nothing. 

You glance at Steve. “This is a problem.”

“I know.”

The sound of popping behind you makes you turn to see where it’s coming from. It’s Natasha, loudly chewing the pink gum, eyes switching between you and Steve. He lets out an annoyed sigh before he steps at her, placing a firm hand in the middle of her chest to push her into the empty room across the hall.

The door opens with a slam as the blinds rattle against the glass.

“So much for not drawing attention.” You mutter, reaching to close the door behind you.

Steve pushes Natasha against the nearest wall, trapping her with one hand as he pulls off his hood with the other. “Where is it?”

“Safe.” She says.

“Do better.” 

“Where did you get it?” She counters.

“Why would I tell you?”

You glance out the window, watching another medical staff member pass by, completely oblivious of the three of you.

“Fury gave it to you. Why?” Her eyebrows are drawn in.

“What’s on it?”

“I don’t know.” She shakes her head.

“Stop lying.” Steve tells her.

“I only act like I know everything, Rogers.” She says, as if it’s obvious.

Steve looks over his shoulder at you, maybe for assurance. Or to make sure that you’re standing nearby. When he looks back at Natasha, you step in closer. “I bet you knew Fury hired the pirates, didn’t you?”

Natasha’s mouth opens, no words coming out for a second while she thinks of a response. “Well, it makes sense. The ship was dirty, Fury needed a way in, so do you.”

Steve grabs her shirt. “I’m not gonna ask you again.”

“I know who killed Fury.” She finally says, Steve’s grip loosens. “Most of the intelligence community doesn’t believe he exists. The ones that do call him the Winter Soldier. He’s credited with over two dozen assassinations in the last fifty years.”

“So he’s a ghost story.” You say, shaking your head. 

“Five years ago, I was escorting a nuclear engineer out of Iran. Somebody shot out my tires near Odessa. We lost control, went straight over a cliff. I pulled us out. But the Winter Soldier was there. I was covering my engineer so he shot him straight through me.” She pulls up the bottom of her shirt, revealing a scar on her left side, a few inches away from her bellybutton. “Soviet slug. No rifling. Bye-bye, bikinis.”

“Yeah, I bet you look terrible in them now.” Steve remarks.

She gives him a halfway smile before it drops. “Going after him is a dead end. I know, I’ve tried.” She pulls out the flash drive from her pocket, holding it up between them. “Like she said, he’s a ghost story.”

“Well, let’s find out what the ghost wants.” Steve backs off of her, moving so that you can see them both. “Are you still in?”

“‘Course I am.” You cross your arms over your chest. “This sounds like fun.”

—

If you’d known you’d end up in a car, squished between Natasha and a HYDRA agent, you think you might’ve told Steve that he could figure this out on his own. It probably wouldn’t have gone over well. He might’ve even begged you a little bit to change your mind, but with Sam here, there’s really no need for you to be.

“Natasha, why don’t we switch spots?” You ask, eyeing Sitwell for another moment before looking at her. “I don’t feel comfortable sitting next to him. I think this is more your specialty.”

She gives you an amused look. “I told you not to get in the car first.”

Sitwell blinks, drawing his attention from the cars passing you by on the freeway, to you. “Afraid all that training is going to fail you?”

Your eyes narrow, “No.”

He sighs. “HYDRA doesn’t like leaks.”

“Then why don’t you try sticking a cork in it?” Sam retorts, looking at him in the mirror.

Natasha leans over you to speak to Steve, who’s sitting in the passenger seat. This pushes you closer to Sitwell. “Insight’s launching in sixteen hours. We’re cutting it a little bit close here.”

“I know. We’ll use him to bypass the DNA scans and access the helicarriers directly.”

“What? Are you crazy?” Sitwell asks, eyes wide. “That is a terrible, terrible idea.”

A loud thud on the roof of the car makes it cave in a little. You only have enough time to glance up, before the window shatters next to Sitwell, sending glass flying all over the interior of the car. You shield your face, feeling the glass pelt your jacket and jeans, before landing on the now-empty leather seat.

Sitwell is gone, he screams briefly as he’s thrown into oncoming traffic on the other side of the concrete barrier, where he’s hit by a honking truck. You watch as a gun appears in front of the open window, the safety being turned off, before being pulled away.

Natasha leaps from the back seat to the front, landing in Steve’s lap as she pulls his head down. A bullet pierces the leather where she had just been, you slide there as another bullet slams in your seat. With two hands on the back of your head, you duck, listening as two more shots are fired.

When you raise your head, you catch Steve reaching forward to the emergency brake, yanking it back. The brakes screech against the asphalt, slamming the car to a hard stop. The man that had been on top of the car flies from the roof, somersaulting in the air so that he lands on a knee pad and a singular arm. A metal arm.

“What the fuck.” You breathe, watching as he dislodges his hands from the asphalt to rise to his feet. 

For a few seconds, it’s a stand-off, as the cars around you weave in and out of the lanes to avoid hitting the car you’re in. Natasha tries to whip out her gun to shoot at him, but an armored truck hits you from behind, making you jerk forward, forcing the car in his direction.

He jumps, landing back on the roof. Sam slams on the brakes, trying to stop, but the truck is too strong. A metal arm comes flying through the windshield, fingers wrapping around the steering wheel, breaking it off.

“Shit!” Sam screams.

Natasha tries shooting at the roof, but the Winter Soldier jumps off, onto the truck behind you. You turn, wanting to keep your eyes on the threat, and find him on the hood of the armored vehicle. 

“He’s accelerating!” You shout.

The trunk crumples further as you’re rammed again, this time throwing the car off course. It turns, wheel running up the side of the barrier, before forcing you back on the freeway. The car begins to wobble from side to side, growing more violent by the second.

Steve pulls up his shield, placing it on the passenger door. “Hang on!” He shouts, grabbing Natasha. 

The car begins to twist, you reach for the window that Sitwell had been forced out of, grabbing the edges and pulling up as you go airborne. Steve, Natasha and Sam must escape together out of the door, because when you look down to launch yourself out, they’re gone.

And so are you.

You cross your arms over your chest with fists, holding on tightly to the body of your jacket while you’re thrown into the air. You gain several more feet, and in that time, you duck your head, ankles locked together, until you come crashing down to Earth.

With the world being one giant dizzying blur, you have to guess how far away you are from the freeway. You hesitate, waiting for the best possible moment to land without hurting yourself. Unfortunately, it’s a second too long, because when you throw out your left foot to throw you into a roll, you land on it sideways.

The pain is immediate, but it takes up the back of your mind as you hit the concrete, rolling for several feet. When the momentum is gone, you sit upright, clutching at your ankle, eyes searching for your friends.

You find the overturned car, and then Natasha and Steve, who are still sitting on his Captain America shield. Beside you is Sam, who’s eyeing your ankle, worried. You’re more focused on the Hydra vehicle, and the fact that the Winter Soldier now holds a grenade launcher.

In one solid move, you grab the front of Sam’s shirt, throwing him down as a grenade is sent in your direction. Steve holds up his shield, intending to deflect the explosion, but he ends up triggering it instead. The blast sends him ricocheting off of a car behind him, and over the side of the overpass.

You jump to your feet while you can, ignoring the piercing pain in your ankle as you try to run to hide behind the van. Sam is right beside you, you can feel his hand on your lower back, but then it’s gone, as he goes to hide behind the silver car a few feet back. 

Natasha glances at you, gun in her hand. “Got any tricks up your sleeve?”

“Not really.” You tell her.

She pops up, shooting back at the HYDRA agents that are slowly advancing in your direction. You look back at Sam, and watch as he makes a run for it down the freeway. You suck in a breath, springing up to hurl yourself over the side of the barrier. A car whizzes by, and Natasha lands next to you.

You swear the whole bridge shakes when another grenade explodes. 

She grabs your hand, passing one of her guns over. “I’ll distract him, you shoot when you get the chance.”

“Just to be clear, this is the Winter Soldier, right?” You ask.

Natasha makes a grave face, nodding. When there’s a break in the gunfire, she crosses three lanes of traffic, rolls over a car, only to be thrown off the side of the bridge when he launches a bomb.

A car comes to a screeching halt a foot or so away from you, inadvertently shielding you from the enemy. You turn to the left, climbing on your hands and knees while you try to get a better spot to shoot. It’s eerily quiet for several seconds, you slowly creep up to look over the wall, finding him aiming below the bridge.

When you’re sure that the HYDRA agents aren’t watching, you stand up, popping the safety off. You hold up the gun, aiming for the back of the Winter Soldier’s head. And right as you go to pull the trigger, a shot is fired, his head whipping to the side. When he turns to drop down, you can see that Natasha got him in the goggles.

He pulls them off, fist tightening around the black material. Then, he gets back up, spraying bullets at Natasha in response, pissed. They get into a brief gunfight, where you wait for the better opportunity to shoot.

As soon as the other HYDRA agents get to their feet, you fire. They’re solid shots on all three of them. So solid and precise, that they’re dead as soon as the bullets hit their bodies. You let out a breathy laugh, surprised that you still have that in you, but the celebration is gone when the Winter Soldier begins to turn.

You hit the cement, but you must be the least of his worries, because he doesn’t come after you. When you’re sure of this, you get back to your feet and over the barrier to retrieve one of the HYDRA guns from the bodies. You find a hook embedded into the hood of a car, attached to a thick black wire that hangs over the side of the overpass.

First, you check to make sure that there’s not an agent attached at the bottom. Then, you attach the gun to your body with the strap to keep it on you. After you’ve pulled your jacket sleeves over your hands, you slide down the wire, joining Steve, Natasha and the Winter Soldier below.

Except, there is no one.

You stand in the middle of the street, eyes sweeping the area, but all you’re coming up with are civilians running away. You head toward the anger to start, keeping a sharp eye out for any of the HYDRA agents that might be lurking around nearby. 

There’s a distant sound of gunfire, followed by an explosion. You pick up the pace, jogging down three blocks before you’re met with a busy intersection. You hoist the gun up, one eye peering through the scope before you pull the trigger.

The Winter Soldier moves, making you miss by barely an inch. Steve runs at him to keep him from shooting back at you, swinging the shield up in time to block his punch, causing the metal to sound like a gong. Steve gets kicked off of the car, landing on the road, where he covers himself with the shield. 

The enemy rolls off the car, pulling out a machine gun to shoot at Steve. When the bullets run out, Steve swings himself over the top of the car, foot knocking the gun out of his hand. You reload the rifle, waiting for the right moment to shoot, while they engage in hand-to-hand combat. 

He shoots, they go back and forth with the punches, and block. The gun is put away, Steve is twisted out of the shield, now in the Winter Soldier’s grasp. It’s placed between them to keep a distance, but eventually yanked from Steve’s rip as the HYDRA assassin uses it to his advantage.

When there’s a pause, you go to pull the trigger, until the shield comes flying in your direction.

You jerk to the side, watching as the shield lodges into the back door of a white van behind you. With wide eyes, you look back at Steve, only to find him fighting once more. You reach, yanking the shield free, and also retrieving your gun as you move closer.

Steve seems to have a knife now. He tries to take multiple stabs, but ultimately it’s taken from him, and he ends up dodging once more. The Winter Soldier makes the mistake of swinging over Steve twice, allowing him to counter with a hook and a kick. The soldier slams back into a car, Steve runs at him, slamming him into it further, causing the door to dent and the glass to break.

He goes in for a punch once again, but the Winter Soldier blocks it, backing Steve away as he tries to fight back. Steve flips him over, standing over him for just a second, before the Winter Soldier grabs Steve’s neck, squeezing.

You let the gun hang against your chest, fixing the shield in your hand. You swing back, and then launch it forward. Steve’s eyes dart to it, ticking off the Winter Soldier, so he throws Steve over the hood of a car, turning just in time to grab the shield before it hits him. By then, you’re firing bullets, watching as they bounce off of the metal.

The gun jams.

“Shit.” You pull it off of you, hurling it in his direction. He catches it in his metal hand, clenching his fist around the material, breaking it.

He turns his attention back to Steve, who’s on the other side of the car. They go back to fighting, you continue to advance, a little annoyed that he doesn’t see you as a threat enough. He pulls out a knife, going to stab Steve, but the metal pieces a grey van, slicing the paint vertically.

Steve grabs the Winter Soldier, throwing him back to get him off, and swiping the shield in the process. The enemy swings, hits metal. He swings again with the knife, hitting metal. The Winter Soldier punches Steve successfully, trying to kick but he’s met with the shield, so he swings again.

Steve slams the shield into the metal arm of the Winter Soldier, and then forces it up, hitting him in the face. Steve wraps his hand around the mask, flipping him over backward, but it's too much momentum, because the Winter Soldier somersaults.

You walk around the truck, going to join Steve, finding the black mask lying on the asphalt. The Winter Soldier rises, back to you at first, until he slowly turns his head, allowing you to see what he looks like.

The blood runs from your face, lips parting as your eyes lock on. 

Bucky.

He looks… different, but not in the bad sense. His dark hair is messily long, just barely reaching his shoulders. When in the past he’s kept it shorter, cleaner. There’s a shadow of a beard forming on the lower half of his face. And there’s this emotionless void in his eyes, as if he’s looking right through you.

This can’t be him, though. The last time you saw him… 

Steve stands up, panting through his teeth. “Bucky?”

“Who the hell is Bucky?” He asks, turning toward the two of you fully. 

He pulls up his gun to shoot at either of you, but Sam kicks him over, sending him tumbling over the asphalt. That small move does basically nothing, as Bucky gets back to his feet, you take a step toward him, even when he goes to shoot again, but you’re interrupted by a grenade flying over Steve’s shoulder.

A red truck explodes. You look behind you to see Natasha, barely holding herself up against a car with the grenade launcher. Bucky is nowhere to be seen.

There’s sirens approaching, presumably the police, a firetruck, a couple of ambulances, but all you see are black SUV’s approaching. Your eyes catch a figure disappearing into an alleyway.

“I’m going after him.” You dig into your pants pocket, pulling out the singular smoke bomb that you’d brought with you.

Before Steve can stop you, you pull out the pin, tossing the bomb in the middle of the intersection. In the matter of seconds, the grey haze is taking over the street, concealing your escape. Either Steve is too shocked or knows better than to go after you, because he stays there with your other two friends, letting you run off.

Your ankle is slowing you down, but that doesn’t make you stop. You chase Bucky down several streets until he jumps out from behind a car, fist swinging at your face. You catch it, fingers wrapping around his hand, eyes boring into his.

The two of you stand like this for a very long second. If he knows who you are, he’s doing a very good job of hiding it, because you’re none the wiser. If you had to guess what happened to him, you’d say Zola experimented on him. And you think that Steve would even agree with you.

He tries to punch you with his metal arm, but you block it with your forearm, holding him there for a second longer. You can’t do this, not here. He’s not stable enough to have a conversation, especially since he was trying to kill you. He is trying to kill you.

“I’ll come back for you, I promise.” You tell him, despite knowing that this means nothing to him. “I’m not letting you go so easily, Bucky.”

--

this was part of my 3k celebration!!

[callofdudes]

Can I request TF141 x Reader where they’re on a mission til suddenly Y/n got into a fight by the enemy. Til she went trigger bringing out the savage beast and started to kill the enemy who get into her way. TF141 are shock what they’re seeing. They try to calm Y/n but she lost control and about to attack them. Price brought out a record tape that Lasewell give it to him and told him to play it for Y/n calm down just in case. Once Y/n hear the lullaby song the voice from her mother she started to cry and passed out.

Take all the time you need. No need to rush. Btw I love your work. I read all of them.

Ah, thank you for the request. I'm glad you enjoy my writing @silverwolf-108 I realized that you'd sent in a second and third request so I thought I needed to hop to it and finish this one for you!

A/n: I made the tape an ipod instead, I hope you don't mind, it's a bit easier to play quickly in a frantic situation.

Also thank you for being so patient with me, you are an angel 😊😅

The battle had gone on long and hard. Bullets sprayed across the field, wind whipping around you and the boys. Ghost was hidden back against a shed, practically pinned down and unable to move while Johnny bled out. He cupped the sergeants cheek to try and keep him awake, his heart beating out of his chest.

"Y/n!! Find cover!" Simon urges.

He turns back to Johnny, trying to keep him awake.

Your heart pounds out of your chest. Everything is a blur and it's way too much for you. Too stimulating. A bullet whizzes by your hair, blood rushing through your ears.

Your fingers start to itch on your gun, wanting to pull the trigger on these motherfuckers and give them a piece of your fucking mind.

You look back at your team, trying to hide for cover as well. Gaz is tucked into Price's shoulder, hiding against the ground to try and survive the bullet spray.

"Johnny!! Open your eyes sergeant!! We're not done here!"

You see Simon in desperation and Johnny's limp body. It's all too much. Your heart lurches in your chest and you feel like you're going to puke.

Blood drips from Johnny's chest and you lose it. Seeing his blood makes you violent. Animalistic.

You regrip your gun and run from your hiding spot.

"Soldier!!" Price yells at you.

You can't hear, blood rushes in your ears. You throw a smoke grenade one way and take out the two soldiers closest to you. You disregard their fallen bodies and run into the smoke.

You raise the stock of your gun and hit another man upside the head and send him down to the ground.

You drop your gun and grab your knife, grabbing another man by the throat and carving it out and up his jaw. Blood spilled across your face and you kick his body away.

They try to shoot you through the smoke, bullets whizzing and whipping by you but never touching.

You shoot two more men and advance on the others.

Everything is red. Murder and blood was all too much. Too stimulating. Your fingers itch as the smoke clears. Another soldier attempts to take hold of you, your blade meeting him first, followed by you snapping his neck before he has the chance to bleed out.

Another soldier grabs you but you sink your blade into his shoulder, chopping and hacking away at the spot before drawing a deep line across the expanse of his chest.

You don't stop to catch your breath, throwing your knife into the forehead of another man.

Two men grab you and pull you back. You snarl, kicking in the dirt and grab another knife, slicing it into one of the men's wrists and pulling him around and swinging him into the other men.

"I will not let you touch my family." You growl before sinking your blade into his chest and twisting it around in the cavity. The second man tries to get up and run but you slice his leg and slam your blade into the back of his head, blood spilling and splattering across the ground.

The 141 watches in horror and shock. The men that just moments ago were about the kill them all were now being demolished by you. What had happened.

Simon watches, honestly impressed. Though he'd kick your butt for pulling such a stunt and putting yourself in the way like that.

He clutches Johnny tightly to his chest, another bullet whipping past his head before you rip the man's gun from his hands and smash the side right into his face.

Another bullet whizzes by and Price pulls Gaz against his chest, breathing heavy. "It'll be ok, it'll be ok." He reminds Gaz, watching you from where they were hiding with shock and is just as impressed as Simon. Although he sees where your safety is in immediate danger.

Your heart is still beating out of your chest even when things slow and the soldiers are gone.

Using the soldiers gun you shoot down more of the soldiers until the troops begin to slow in numbers.

The last of the soldiers run at you and you hit him with the stock, slamming him on the ground and stomping on his head, cracking it and splattering more blood across the ground.

Price sits up and looks at you, he's not sure if he should congratulate you or slap you over the head.

You just stand there, hunched over and breathing heavily. Your fingers itch, bloody blade still clutched in your hand while you try to recover some semblance of thought.

Gaz gets up from his spot and rushes out to see if you're ok. "Y/n, wh-what was that??"

His footsteps make your head twitch. His hand grazes your shoulder and you push him back, throwing him into the dirt.

Price grabs you and pulls you into a roll with him, ripping you away from Gaz. Your blade drops from your hands and narrowly misses Gaz's eye, slicing a cut against his forehead.

Price is already reacting when he sees you climb on top of Gaz and raise your blade. Gaz tries to kick you off, trying to get away.

You snarl at him, your eyes are dark and he can see that you're not in there, not fully present right now. His heart lurches when the blade starts to come down and he scrunches his eyes tightly.

Price tries to hold you down while you scream and kick and squirm. You hit him with all your might, trying to take him down but he's just so much stronger than you.

Price firmly but lovingly holds you against him, shielding you from the world.

"I'll bloody murder you!!" You scream, trying to bite him.

You grew distressed and uncomfortable in his arms. Too tight, tol restricting, to unsafe. You scream again, trying to kick and punch and spit.

"It's ok y/n, it's ok, it's just us. It's just us." He tries to soothe you with his voice but it's not affective.

You continue to kick and squirm, hitting him in the shoulder and trying to bite his arm.

And then he remembers protocol. He'd been given a rundown on this when you'd joined the 141.

"Gaz, check my bag!"

Gaz whines, clutching his bleeding forehead but rushes to complete the task and searches Price's bag. "When you find and old ipod let me know."

Gaz keeps digging until he finds the phone at 100 percent. "Got it."

"Play the first song, now!"

"Is now the time for songs, captain??"

"Kyle Garrick do it now!!"

Gaz is shaking as he presses play and a soft moldy starts. He holds it's closer to you and your fighting starts to slow. Your nails dig into Price's forearm and your bottom lip quivers.

You go limp and burst into sobs. Hot, wet tears flow down your face and your breathing gets faster. You cling to Price now instead of trying to fight him.

You clutch his gear, trying to breath through heavy tears.

Price runs his hand over your head. "It's ok sergeant, take a deep breath soldier. Take a deep breath."

You whimper and exhaustion floods your body, and your eyes close.

Gaz pauses the music as you fall asleep in Price's arms, curled up in his safety and his warmth.

"What... Just happened??"

"Classified sergeant. But it's over now." He strokes your hair gently. "Now we need to get both Y/n and Johnny out of here now."

Simon comes over, still a little stunned with a shivering, weak Johnny in his arms.

They all move to the evac site where they meet medical. They take both of you and fly their soldiers back to base.

Price is nervous for you to wake up, but he sits the boys down for a chat to try and explain what happened as much as he can. it brings a bit of light to the subject, but doesn't change the fact that Ghost and Gaz didn't see it coming and are a stunned.

Ghost had never seen anything like it. The absolute rage that drove you into that battle like a madwoman.

Nonetheless they were all happy that they survived, it was all thanks to you.

You woke up a day later, exhausted and tired, but alive. You didn't all remember what happened. You remember you were fighting, and then you were cradled in Price's arms. Looking back on it felt like a mindless blur.

You slowly sat up, seeing small wounds of yours patched and stitched.

In the next bed lay Johnny, out cold with bandages tightly wrapped around his chest.

The door opened and you snapped up to look as Price, Ghost and Gaz come in.

"Guys!" You smile and hold your arms out for hugs. Price hugs you tightly, kissing your forehead. "I'm so glad you're alright."

Ghost pats your head and Gaz also hugs you.

You notice the bandage on his forehead and brush your thumb over it. You don't like to see them hurt.

"Who did this to you, Gaz?"

Gaz smiles awkwardly. "Just some guy on the field, but with how you were hacking around I think you got him."

You clutched your head when you felt a sharp headache come on. "I... I don't remember much... I'm sorry."

Price takes your hand and squeezes it. "You were very brave y/n, you saved our asses back there. You don't have to remember it for it to have happened."

You look up at him and nod. "Thank you."

Ghost moves closer to you and grumbles under his breath. "I don't know what the bloody fuck you were doin', but you could have gotten yourself killed!!" He sighs and squeezes you in a tight hug, surprising you.

"So bloody glad you're alive. You hear me??"

You hug him back and smile. "I hear you lieutenant."

He pulls away and leans over the other bed, clutching Johnny's limp hand in his own.

"What about Johnny??" You ask.

They all look over at Johnny who is still unconscious and breathing quietly. The heartbeat monitor near his bedside plays in soft smooth rhythms.

"Johnny is alright. Lost a lot of blood and needs rest, but he is doing ok."

You sigh in relief. Price helps you off your bedside and you shake out your sore limbs. "I think I'm gonna go rest in my room for a bit... Thank you."

"Of course sergeant, call us if you need us."

"Will do Captain."

You headed down to your room, still with a headache you crawled into your nice warm bed, and drifted asleep. The anxiety and overstimulation got to you sometimes on the field, reminding you of things and sending you into overdrive fight mode.

But I guess this time it really did save your asses. Johnny doesn't remember anything, but he'll thank you for saving them regardless.

And they all lived happily ever after, I hope you like it 😊

[rowiewritesstuff]

Soulmate prompt for TFP Megs - where only soulmates can see each other's coloured footprints left by the other on the ground?

Maybe the human gets in trouble/is a nuisance to the Decepticons as they're with the Autobots and only Megs can find them?

PS: Your writing is awesome!

TFP Soulmate Megatron X Reader

You were an absolute menace. You also happened to be Optimus’ charge. A huge reason Optimus was tired all of the time was you. Bulkhead even mentioned that you were worse than Miko. Ratchet sometimes called you ‘Unicron Jr.’ much to Optimus’ dismay. 

You happened to excel in creating weapons- specifically bombs. Wheeljack was a good friend of yours, and you often exchanged tips. 

Oftentimes, you’d use your weapons and bombs to fight Decepticons when you encountered them. You quickly became enemy number one for the Decepticons, the echo of your violent tendencies towards the Decepticons reaching the leader’s ears. 

Megatron was miffed at the news. How couldn’t they kill or capture a single human?! It was pathetic. 

Soundwave played back a clip Laserbeak had captured of one of your battles. It was you against five Vehicons. Several times they had almost managed to grab you, but you always pulled out another weapon out of seemingly nowhere. 

Megatron was impressed- something he couldn’t say about most of your race. You held your own at your size, and your weapons looked homemade. Some moves you used reminded him fondly of his long past gladiator matches. 

“Soundwave. Inform me of the next time you see them on the battlefield. Immediately.”

It wasn’t until a month later they found you fighting again. You were up against a good amount of Vehicons when one managed to hit your side with a shot. You yelled out in pain, alerting your autobot friends to your injury. They quickly began taking on the Vehicons that fought you. You whimpered in pain as you began to stumble away into a nearby cave. 

Megatron landed at the battlefield, where Autobots were looking for you while fighting a small army of cons’. Megatron began looking as well. He almost missed it, but he noticed small, glowing red footprints leading into a cave. 

Megatron knew exactly what those steps meant, and was shocked. Soulmates were rare. Perhaps a handful of Cybertronians ever got one- and he thought he was one of the majority. Was there a new Cybertronian that he hadn’t met before on Earth? 

Megatron followed the footsteps into the cave, and looked up when he heard a click. There you sat, grenade in hand. The old bot merely raised an eyebrow.

“Ah ah, don’t move a muscle, con. If you do, I’ll blow us both up- and trust me, this grenade is a lot worse than it looks.”

“So you’re the famous human, then.” He grins at you. While he’s grinning, his mind is running a mile a minute. 

“Famous? You flatter me!” You flutter your eyelashes at him. Megatron can’t help the chuckle that leaves him. You suddenly grow serious. “Now- who are you?” 

Megatron can’t help a slight look of irritation on his face. “You don’t know who I am?” 

“If I did, I wouldn’t be asking bud.” You held your side in pain as it suddenly throbbed. Blood trailed down your side.

Megatron noticed it almost immediately. “You’re hurt. Come, I will see to it you’re taken care of.” He leaned down and offered a hand out to you. 

You laughed loudly at him. “Do you think I’m a fool?” 

Megatron was amused. You were smart as well as a worthy opponent. “You’re no fool- but you are injured. So if you truly intend to, human, pull the pin out.” He gestured to your grenade. 

Shock coated his face as you do. You laugh at his face. “You caught my bluff. It’s just a backup shell I have.” You dropped it onto the floor and held your side. “Guess you… you win this one, Batman.” You passed out onto the floor a moment later after the bad joke. 

He stood there for a moment, thinking about everything. You were definitely his sparkmate- and you were definitely a problem to the Autobot cause. He realized that he had only one choice. 

“Soundwave, open a groundbridge to my coordinates.” Megatron gently picked you up from the ground, careful not to harm you further. 

“Megatron, release them!” Optimus’ voice shouted at him from the mouth of the cave. 

Megatron looked at him from the corner of his eye and made his way through the groundbridge. Immediately he went to Knockout’s medbay. “Knockout.” 

Breakdown and Knockout stood at attention. “Yes, Lord Megatron?”

“Fix them. If you fail to, or if you harm them further, there will be consequences. Understood?” 

Knockout and Breakdown nodded slowly. They didn’t understand why Megatron wanted a human healed, but they certainly would do what the violent con’ ordered. They immediately recognized you as the human who had kicked their afts before, and made sure to restrain you on the table. 

When you woke from your rest, Megatron was there. You went to grab your sidearm, but you found it wasn’t there. 

“Ah, you’re awake, sparkmate.” Megatron stood from his sitting position. 

“Uh- I’m sorry, what?” 

Megatron explained what a sparkmate was. You didn’t believe it at first, but a simple glance at his feet left you no voice but to trust his words.

You were surprisingly treated well on the Nemesis, despite being just a captive. You were technically allowed to leave at any time, as you were told. However you choose to instead get to know Megatron and the Decepticons. 

As you learned more about them and their cause, you felt guilt. Some Autobots are just as bad- a lot of them were, actually. You began to become friends with a lot of them- especially Megatron. 

As time went on, you managed to curb a lot of his anger issues. His troops were better emotionally.  They fought better, and less of them died to Autobots. 

You made them promise to never kill the Autobots, to which a lot of them agreed. It was surprising to the Autobots when the Vehicons avoided fatal blows. They only used enough force to stop the Autobots in their tracks. They knew that it had to be you stopping them from using fatal force.

It wasn’t too long before Optimus and Megatron met. Megatron admitted defeat in the war, promising to stop fighting. 

“What changed, old friend?” Optimus didn’t really have to ask- it was obvious the little human sitting on his shoulder was the cause for the end of the war. 

“A lot.” Megatron then left, you in tow.

[waywardwritesstuff]

Could you do a trans reader comfort scenario for misgendering with Wolverine?

Logan x Trans!MaleReader

I am very happy to deliver this fic to you friend. i hope one day you feel safe enough to share all of who you are with the world. But until then I hope this story can bring you some comfort. Love you brother

Summary: Being a mutant was hard enough as it is, but being on trans on top of that. Well, you might as well be cursed. Luckily Logan has your back when it counts the most.

Word Count: 2.1k

Tags: misgendering, dysphoria, transphobia, comforting, fluff, slurs

You were in charge of the supply run for the school this week. It was always strange carrying around Charles’ credit card, over the years he had been able to invest in stocks- knowing when they would dip and rise, he had amassed money from government funding and social projects, as well as working many jobs over the decades he has been alive so he had more than enough money to provide for all of the children at his school, but still the sum baffled you.

But if it meant that the school could stay stocked and at the highest capacity to care for the children, and the teachers living in the school then you didn’t think on it too hard.

You went about grabbing what you needed by the handful and stocking your trolley. Even grabbing a few extra things for you and Logan. Any time you had been on shift to go for the supply run you made sure to grab some extra snacks for Logan and you to keep in your room. You grabbed a bag of Skittles for yourself and some Recess cups for Logan (you had no idea how he could stand eating those).

As you were grabbing some breakfast cereals to stock the cabinet with you overheard a group of people whispering behind you. You turned and out of the corner of you eye saw them pointing at you as they continued to talk

“Why does she look like that? She looks like some cringe teenager?”

“Who does she think she’s fooling with that hair cut?”

“She was probably in prison and is growing it out”

Their voices were hushed but sounded like thunderclaps in your ears

She

She

She

You dropped the box of cereal you were holding, it made a skittering sound as it crunched on the floor. Your heart rate increased as their words reverberated around your mind, your chest tightening and not from your binder. Why today?

“Young miss? You dropped this” A middle-aged lady come into your view as you stared at the box on the floor, its bright logo staring you in the face. It’s mascot smiling gleefully. Her hand came into view as she picked up the box and handed it back to you. Trying to snap your self out of your downwards spiral you smiled sheepishly at her but the smile didn’t meet your eyes.

“Thank you” you took the box and shoved it into your cart. She smiled back at you and continued with her own shopping

The group from before were now snickering at you, before you could grab the last box you needed and head to the checkout the tallest boy in the group threw a packet of biscuits at you and said “Hey tranny, shouldn’t you be in the circus or something?”

The whole group laughed but you just stared. You turned around to face them, glaring them down with as much hate you could muster. All of it was controlled like a grenade ready to explode, the blast steadily building with each second passing as the chemical reaction grew inside the chamber.

Right now, it was anger, bubbling and building but never exploding. All the rage being pent up as you walked towards the checkout. Your feet felt heavy, your footsteps echoing more than last time as you stomped down the isles. Your heart beat fiercely but you looked on blankly, your eyes seeing but not processing what was in front of you. You just wanted to get out of here and get home. Go back to the school and hide away.

Deep down you just wanted to be seen. Being a mutant was hard enough as it was, having to keep a secret from the world and everyone who would ever know you outside of the school. And now, no matter how hard you tried the world still didn’t see you how you were. As a young boy, just like any other human.

But you weren’t, you weren’t and you would never be. Because society decided to define you based on your internal organs and bone structure. Just thinking about it made you irritated. That notion occupied your thoughts quite often and it angered you, all this hate and bigotry towards a group of people because they were simply different. Why did everyone else get to decide your fate? Why did they get to decide who you were and who you were supposed to be? It was bullshit.

As you drove back to the school you anger leaked out. It showed in the whites of your knuckles as you gripped the steering wheel. In the crease at the top of your nose in between your two brows. In the speedometer on your car screaming higher and higher as you broke the speed limit two times over, your foot flat to the floor on the pedal.

As you pulled into the gravel driveway the car screeched to a stop as you cut the ignition and yanked of your seat belt, opening the door with more force than necessary and slamming it shut with equal strength.

You began grabbing bags out of the trunk and bringing them to the kitchen. Leaving them with a few of the kids who smiled and thanked you as they began unpacking the bags you placed on the bench. Their smiles were genuine and warm as they helped you put the items away. You went back for the last bag and as you shut the boot and took a step away from your car you turned and came face to face with Logan. Almost bumping directly into him. You jumped and almost dropped the bag

“Jesus Logan, we need to get you a bell or something”

He chuckled but looked playfully disgusted by the idea.

“I’m not a cat” he laughs at you

“Well you already have the ears and the claws” you say pointing at the curls in his hair.

He laughs and gives you a punch in the arm as he reaches forward to take the bag from your hand. But you don’t let him take it. Usually you would have let him help you but today you didn’t.

It was stupid really, the reason you held onto he bag. The masculine clique of being strong and being able to provide had entered your mind on the way home, all the overcompensating masculine cliques imaginable had played out in your mind as you tried to combat the dysphoria that was consuming your brain.

He tilted his head at you when you pulled away from him but he didn’t press you any further. He walked along side you as you took the last of the groceries to the kitchen and put them away with the help of the few kids that were still unpacking the bags. You moved through the kitchen in a whir, putting things in their place at record time and then depositing the bags back into your car before walking back inside.

Now with nothing to do you felt to wired, to unoccupied. You didn’t want to talk about what was on your mind. You were to mad about. But slowly that anger began to dissolve. The feeling hollowing out your chest, taking up space and crushing your organs.

You had managed to evade Logan in your flurry around the kitchen, not that you meant to but you just weren’t thinking. Your mind was so full but blank. Like TV screen playing static. Numbly you walked to your shared room with Logan, you pulled off your shirt and looked at yourself in the mirror with your binder on. There was a slight pudge out the arm holes from the extra weight your binder couldn’t hold. You didn’t get it. You looked like a boy, like any other man you might have seen on the street. So how did they know? How were you still being misgendered? The thought made you angry again and you glared at yourself in the mirror, getting mad at your own face for betraying you. You pulled your binder up over your head. But because you hadn’t been careful to pull up from the arms first it got stuck, with your arms caught at an awkward angle

You tried to grab at the binder but couldn’t pull it up and over your head. You heard a knock on the door, and you ducked out of view, turning around so that your back faced the door as Logan’s voice accompanied the previous knocking. “Hey, you good?”

You sigh frustratedly, how was this the third time this week you had been caught like this “No…I’m stuck, again”

The door opened and clicked shut quickly as you heard Logan walk up behind you.

“Trying to get it off, or back on?”

You contemplated telling him you were putting it back on, but you had been wearing it for 6 hours already and you ribs were hurting, you knew you were pushing your limits. You sighed and told him to help you take it off.

Gently he grabbed onto the fabric and pulled it over your head, making sure to keep his hands away from your skin as much as possible as he freed you from your predicament.

You snatched your hoodie off the end of your bed and pulled it back on. Adjusting it so your body underneath was hidden, and your curved figure became blocked out and flatter.

He looked at you as you adjusted you hoodie with a sad and now knowing smile on his face.

“What happened” he asked softly

You stopped fussing with your shirt and you looked at him. All the anger from before was completely gone, and instead, the was replaced with the sting of sadness and the feeling of tears welling up behind your eyes.

You bit the inside of your cheek hoping that it would deter the tears in your eyes, but it didn’t. You didn’t know how to explain it, you didn’t want to say it to him. You felt pathic and you were embarrassed, but your heart ached.

It shouldn’t have bothered you but it did, and you didn’t know how to tell him

“Why don’t they see me” you couldn’t explain what had happened but you didn’t need to. He got the gist of it.

He pulled you forward into him softly, holding you against him and locking his arms around your back. Keeping you pressed closed to his chest. Your head resting right over his heart. The organ beating rhythmically and acting as a metronome that was grounding you.

The sound of his life brought you calmly back to earth, bringing you here into the moment, pulling you out of the hole you had been spiralling down. His deep long breaths added to the grounding atmosphere that he had created between the two of you. Those negative feelings were slowly fading away from you, the same way that mud and filth dripped down your fingers as you washed your hands clean of it.

It fell away from you and left you feeling clearer, lighter and calmer.

You closed your eyes and breathed deeply following the rhythm he set naturally and took it in, leaving behind the past hour and reveling in the comfort of this moment. Appreciating every moment you could take with him, basking in the glow that radiated from him whenever the two of you were together.

And in this moment, everything faded away except the two of you. And all of that pain and anger and fear melted away.

He placed a kiss on the strands of your hair and then rested his chin on your head.

“You will always be one of the strongest, most capable men I’ve ever met. And anyone who doesn’t see that is a joke”

You pulled away so you could look at him, and your eyes softened, you could see the pure unbridled love in his face as he looked at you. He cupped your face and pulled you in for a kiss, and that last bit of negativity slipped away from you.

Who cared about what other thoughts of you, they didn’t know you and they didn’t matter. Logan knew you, and he loved you however you were. He would never let you forget that because when he had met you at Charles’ school there was no doubt in his mind that you were the most beautiful man he had ever seen.

And that feeling never changed, each time he saw you no matter what state you were in or what you were wearing, each and every time, you would always be beautiful.

It didn’t matter what your body looked like under your clothes; it didn’t matter what society said you were supposed to be. All that you were, in its truest form, was more than he could have ever asked for in a partner. It didn’t matter to him that you were transgender because you were you. And that was enough for him, he hoped one day that you would be enough for you too.

This one goes out to all of my trans brothers out there, keep fighting boys. You've made it this far you can keep going!

And once again, I take requests. If you would like a one shot like this one or any of my other works then send me an ask!