#on the other one I do NOT think that the sniper was skilled enough to “only graze the ear”

[littleapocalypsekitten]

What seriously went on in my household. Me, in after work and subsequent grocery-shopping (I shop where I work). I am in the bathroom. My beloved, in the living room, taking a rest after repainting the hallway on his day off, has TV on. Him: "It happened AGAIN? Can't they even HIT him?!" Me: *Darting out to catch the news* What happened? Him: Another assassination attempt. Trump is reported fine, it was no where near him. Me: Ugh, these things (assassination attempts) are so stupid. Him: *Turns back to Phillies game.*

the way I've not seen NEARLY as many posts or memes about the second assassination attempt is so fucking funny like yeah just wake us up when someone succeeds

[all-purpose-dish-soap]

12 / 1,147 words / for @141wh0re. happy birthday <3

nsfw, free use, rough sex, group sex ⬇

...

"Shut your bloody mouth before you broadcast our hiding place to every tango in a mile radius," Ghost snaps. He's got you bent over a crate, your nails digging into the old wood for purchase as his hips grind against yours.

"Then don't be so fucking rough," you snap, though it sounds breathy and thin even to your ears. You shift, feeling his hands squeeze your hips in irritation.

Ghost doesn't falter, but his eyes glitter at your backtalk. He claps his gloved hand over your mouth to muffle the sounds you're making. His other hand grips your thigh, forcing you onto one leg as he pushes your knee onto the top of the crate. He pulls out and slams back into you, getting back to railing you hard and fast.

“We need you on your sniper, Ghost,” Soap hisses from his spot at the far window. He’s peering down the scope of his own rifle. This building is only two stories high and small enough that any one of you could cross the room in three strides. The body heat alone is getting to you. Not to mention the way Ghost is fucking you like it'll save this mission, his pants pushed down to mid-thigh just as yours are.

"Get back to work, then, Ghost," Price tells him from the nearest window, eye leaving the scope of his rifle for a moment to take you in. "I don't need you two distracting my team."

Ghost grinds into you, a frustrated snarl muffled under his mask. You feel the muscles in his hands flex as he bites back his anger. "Fuck," he mutters. "Alright. Let's finish this."

On the other side of the cramped room, Gaz and Soap kneel at the largest window. They keep their focus, sniping marks with ruthless precision. As they do, Ghost's hips snap into you faster and harder. His teammates are focused on their task; he's focused solely on his.

"You're so tight," he growls. His hand slips away from your mouth, falling to your neck. "I've been wanting you since we--"

"Stop talking," you snap, hyperaware of the implicit warning in Price’s voice and the way Soap and Gaz are shifting in position, getting restless. You’re not sure if they’ve had enough, if they’re jealous, if they’d sooner throw you out the window than entertain another moment of this. "Get it done."

Ghost doesn't bother to argue. He pins you down with a hand between your shoulder blades as he fucks you, unceremonious and primal.

You bite your lip and try to stay quiet as Price's judgmental gaze falls over you again. Ghost flattens you even more against the crate and slams into you so hard and fast it creaks and squeaks against the floor. You cry out, writhing. His hips stutter, and then he's coming, slamming into you until you can't think. Your clit catches the rough edge of the crate. The sudden, sharp jolt is too much. An unexpected orgasm crashes over you, and you groan pathetically, clenching around Ghost.

Ghost curses. He slows down, still panting, and slowly pulls out of you. He runs a gloved hand down your back in a quick—but still noticeable—gesture of appreciation.

"Nice," Price mutters in approval. "Good work."

"She’s a good teammate, ain’t she," Ghost says. "Always wet."

You shiver, their words shooting straight to your core. You're sure you should be insulted, not flattered. But your body doesn’t seem to understand that.

Gaz nudges Soap and they glance over their shoulders at you.

“How long was that one?” Gaz asks Soap.

“I’m busy at the moment. You think I bloody timed it?” Soap snaps. 

Gaz looks amused. “Did you not?”

Soap swears under his breath, eye returning to his sniper scope. “Eleven minutes.”

Gaz scoffs. "Could do better."

“Alright, that’s enough,” Price says, his voice cutting through the chatter. “Ghost, take up position.”

He disappears from behind you. You pull yourself together and get to work.

...

This mission went tits up right out of the gate. If not for your teammates’ ludicrous skill and focus under pressure, you’d be dead. No doubt. But they’ve been in far worse binds than simply being pinned down inside a rickety, moldy shack by endless enemy gunfire.

Soon enough, the chaos is over, and no more shots ring out.

“Clear,” Soap says.

“Proper job,” Price says. ��Regroup.”

You’re patching up a graze on Gaz’s forearm when Price returns three minutes later, frowning.

“Bad news. No exfil for another forty-five minutes.”

“How bloody long does it take to—” Ghost cuts himself off with a rough sigh. “We should keep moving. Find somewhere safer to wait it out.”

“After we regroup here, yeah?” Gaz says.

Ghost scoffs. “Why? You in the middle of something?”

“Oh, we’re about to be,” Soap retorts.

You’re hardly paying attention, fastening two butterfly bandages to Gaz’s laceration when Soap’s arm loops around your waist and drags you backward into his lap. He makes sure to drag your core over his thigh, knowing you’re still sensitive enough to feel it even through your pants. You grit your teeth, biting back a groan. He tugs the top half of your combat uniform apart and shoves his hand inside, groping your chest roughly. You gasp, grinding down on his lap unwittingly.

“That’s a good fuckin’ girl.” Soap’s breath is hot in your ear. “Real reliable.”

“We don’t have time for fun and games, Johnny,” Ghost says, sounding irritated.

“Easy for you to say. You had yours,” Gaz says. He slides closer to Soap, his eyes fixed on you.

Ghost throws a questioning look at Price. Price leans back on the crate you’d been bent over a few minutes ago. He shrugs, rolling around a fresh cigarette between his lips. “Not a bad place to sit tight. We’ve got a good view in all directions if more tangos approach. Relatively protected and exfil has a clear landing zone through those trees. We stay.”

“You heard him,” Gaz says.

“Arsewits, both of you,” Ghost mutters.

You’re staring at the cigarette in Price’s mouth, eyes half-lidded, when Gaz’s fingers take your chin and tilt your face toward him. “You don’t mind, love, do you?”

A frustrated growl rolls through Soap’s chest, but he pauses mid-squeeze to hear your answer too.

You stare at Gaz, then Ghost, then Price again. “Forty-five minutes?”

“We’ll make it work,” Soap says.

“I know.” You shift in his lap again. Your core is aching, your mind already clouded over with want. “Fine. If… if that’s what you need.”

Soap chuckles into your ear. “Away wi’ that. No pretendin’ you do this because it’s your job. You like it.”

“Fuck off,” you snap.

“Gettin’ to that.” Soap shifts you so he can get his pants and yours out of the way. He notices Gaz’s hand run down your neck enticingly, hears you sigh, and pushes Gaz’s hand away. “Wait your turn.”

Gaz scoffs. “You’ll hardly last long enough to wait on.”

“You can share,” Price tells them. Then he gives you a pointed look. “Saves time. You can rest on the bird, sweetheart.”

...

more multi-141 and poly 141 / masterlist tag

[sailing-ever-west]

Thinking about how much the strawhats need Usopp.

His place on the team has always been weird and uncertain for him. He's a sniper but also he's an inventor and he fixes the ship but the thing he gets known for is mostly the long nose and the lying. He calls himself a great captain but he's not the captain and in fact he has very little decision-making power and even less actual confidence. He's the most cowardly. Or maybe he's the bravest. He's pretty sure they only keep him around because he helped them get a ship. He'd die for them anyway.

But the strawhats don't really need a sniper, or a liar, or a guy who gave them a ship. They need Usopp. And the reason has nothing to do with whatever his official role on the crew may be.

They need Usopp because they need a (goodhearted, clever, brave, talented, but nonetheless) regular guy. It's actually so important for the strawhats to have someone who knows what it's like to be weak, who has to really grapple with the consequences of every fight and crazy adventure, who has some semblance of being average and practical about things.

Nami shares some of this role of not being impossibly strong and unkillable the way the others are, but even she has solid close combat techniques and has random bursts of crazy where she'll do things like stab a 3 inch wide spike through her foot to win a fight and help Vivi. She's just pretending to be normal. You can see the glint in her eyes and know she's actually insane.

Also, Usopp is like. Actually nice to people. Regularly. He wants to avoid conflict. They desperately need at least one crew member who wants to avoid conflict. Nami does not serve this purpose quite like Usopp does, either. Sure, she doesn't want to get into fights willy-nilly and she'll often run instead, but she has a harsh and prickly personality that doesn't exactly set people at ease. Chopper also avoids fights but that's mostly for medical reasons and he has very little problem getting into them if he thinks it's necessary. Sanji is kind to people, but he's only nice to women, and will start fights with very little prompting. Luffy is friendly but completely tactless, Zoro doesn't even try to be sociable, and Robin thinks murder is a little funny. So again, between all these weirdos, they need a guy who's just like. Hey what if we said good morning like normal people. What if when some stranger is mildly rude and has a lot of weapons we just ignore it. What if we like. Got along with people. That would be neat.

Anyway I don't have a big grand finish for this post but just. The strawhats were genuinely in need of Some Guy, and Usopp solves that problem even though he thinks he's not special enough. Of course he's unique and talented and strong, but he's still an average human with average physical strength and slowly hard-earned skills. The strawhats without that have no tether.

[s0fter-sin]

soap's whole deal being sniper and demolitions gets me going bc on the surface they sound so different but when you get into it, you realise it's bc soap's smart

sniping is all math; calculating distances and wind interference and bullet drop. something i think people overlook is he was listed as a sniper first so it can be implied that he's better at it than demolitions. he does more sniping in both campaigns than demolitions work; in capture or kill, ghost specifically calls on him to take down the aq snipers

and demolitions is math with a hit of chemistry; knowing what mixes with what, knowing how much to use, recognising environmental factors and adjusting accordingly. it's not just about the boom; so much work goes into contained/ planned explosions. especially when having enough power for a breacher charge and not bringing down the whole building is the difference between mission success and failure

the chemical bombs he makes in alone can't just be any old cleaners, they have to have the correct reaction to each other; he just knew off the top of his head what would mix with what to create what reaction. he would also potentially have to recognise them by sight/smell bc they would’ve been written in spanish

soap would also have to know architecture; recognising structural integrity and weak points so he knows exactly where to plant a charge to bring it down and how it'll come down

he has an incredible soldier's mind people just forget that bc he's sociable which itself is a skill

we know he tends to buck against orders he doesn't agree with like when he pushes back against ghost in capture or kill and shepherd when he tells them to release hassan

he gets closer to people and sees if he can trust them and that's when he follows them without question. really think about how he talks to alejandro and rudy; he asks about their home and alejandro's family and rudy's relationship with him. those aren't questions you ask a stranger after a few hours of knowing them. that's not even touching on his relationship with ghost

he also deliberately brings people of higher ranks down to his level; talking informally with ghost and giving him a shoulder punch, addressing alejandro (a colonel!!) by his first name and rudy by his nickname despite literally just meeting them. he personalises all of them and it’s in direct opposition to the reason most characters do that; it’s not due to insubordination or lack of respect, the more he respects and trusts someone, the more casual he is with them

he digs into people; he wants to know what makes them tick and that determines if he can one, trust them and two, follow their orders. once he decides that, he's the ultimate soldier; he bleeds loyalty which makes him vicious when that loyalty is taken for granted

he isn't naive or bubbly or insecure; he's an incredibly smart and aware soldier. he's aggressive and bloodthirsty and loyal and intuitive and i love him so much

[maidenvault]

Okay so, Crosshair’s hand.

Has anyone pointed this out? When Crosshair kills Nolan, he doesn't use his shooting hand.

He uses his left. Just as he very significantly has to in the series finale.

I don't know if the writers knew as far back as "The Outpost" that Crosshair was going to lose the use of his shooting hand and by extension everything he believed made him strong, a "superior" clone, and safe from being discarded when he was kind of fascism-pilled. But it feels extra significant in retrospect that his first action taken against the Empire is not done with the hand associated with the terrible things he did as an Imperial sniper. And it's after he just got a difficult lesson about how his own personal strength and skills aren't enough to protect him - he was saved twice by Mayday, then possibly only survived through the night because he wouldn't leave him behind and could share his body heat. He may be using his left hand when he shoots Nolan because his other arm is tired from supporting Mayday all the way back, which only adds to the symbolic touch I love that Mayday is using his rifle as a crutch to help him walk as well (and of course, he's at close range so quite meaningfully Crosshair doesn't use the rifle to shoot here either). It all supports the idea of this as the first huge moment of transformation for Crosshair when he's finally turning his fire on the real enemy out of a desire to protect others, however futile and too late it is in this particular situation.

Going back and noticing this really reinforced for me that Crosshair's hand injury probably isn't just meant as a manifestation of his trauma related to Tantiss. It would make sense considering it's his shooting hand that it also has something to do with his inner conflict regarding his changed relationship with violence and killing.

The Batch were introduced as these stereotypically macho soldier characters, an impression that's softened a little as early as the pilot of TBB but still distinguishes them a little from other clones. In a kind of funny way you can look at the whole series as being about these guys who were only brought up to fight gradually discovering and finding peace with their more traditionally feminine sides - literally because of Omega, a female version of themselves who shows them the possibilities of being a family and living for others instead of for violence.

For Crosshair this journey is much more difficult and like a painful rebirth than it is for anyone else because being a soldier was so much of his identity. He's always been the one to most pointedly distinguish his squad from regs because of their "superior" traits that he thinks will make the Empire value them, and he clearly internalized the way the Kaminoans only care about clones as weapons to be used in war. And it all betrays how little value Crosshair actually believes he has deep down. It was easy to go into S3 being especially worried about his fate because he's believed so long that he's not good for anything but fighting and he's the character it was the hardest to imagine adjusting to a different life.

But in retrospect, it was stupid to think they'd let him off that easy and of course the whole point is that it takes a lot to get him there. What exactly he went through on Tantiss beyond the electroshock torture we've seen is never delved into but personally, I think being a soldier is something that's poisoned for Crosshair after he becomes a victim of the Empire himself and subject to their attempts at reconditioning. He's not psychologically able to be that person anymore, but for a long time is still trying to largely rely on himself and his own strength. He tries to sacrifice himself for others because he's still holding onto that part of himself in a way.

But for once in Star Wars we've gotten a fully realized redemption arc showing that sometimes what's harder than giving your life in a redemptive way is to actually have to figure out how to live with the bad things you've done and be better. Some of the people Crosshair hurt were his family, and he has to learn he can only make things better by being there for them. He has to learn that he actually can survive and figure out a way forward from his life as a soldier if he lets himself rely on them, just like he only survived Barton IV with help from Mayday. As @moonstrider9904 explains so well in this post, that is what's so important about Crosshair losing the hand and making that final shot to save Omega with Hunter's support. Symbolically he's had that toxic part of himself actually cut off and it's the final, most painful part of his rebirth. But because of that he's forced to find that he can live on without it, that he's surrounded by people who love and believe in him anyway, and that having superhuman skills as a killer was never what gave him worth.

No, having his shooting hand cut off doesn't "fix" anything or mean that Crosshair is healed. He's probably only begun to recover from everything he's been through. But all we really need to see is that he's firmly found his place as part of a family instead of a squad, and he's not going to be alone as he deals with all of that.

[spooky-pomegranate]

Through The Door:

Captain Price x F Reader (18+) 🔥 Word Count: 2.2K

Summary: Ghost doesn't trust you and when he hears you and Captain Price fighting in his office he stops to listen. But he hears and sees more than he ever expected.

It’s been ten days of this. Ten days of watching, following, and listening. And somehow it still hadn’t been enough time. Ghost still hadn’t caught you. But he knew he would. He just had to remain patient. He’d keep watching. You’d slip up eventually. He was sure of it.

Even if you did have everyone else fooled.

In just ten days, you had already made fast friends with Johnny. The two of you were always laughing and telling one another stupid jokes and stories.

The last thing you’d carried on about was music. You preferred old-school rock and roll. The Stones, The Who, The Beatles. But you liked classical too. You made fun of Soap for his favorite genre, cheery electropop. You called it music for “love-sick teenage girls” and teased him endlessly. He called you “a walking iPod shuffle” and said you were confused about your own taste. You playfully punched Johnny in the arm before you both laughed like hyenas.

It was like you were siblings, the way you constantly bantered and bickered. It set Ghost on edge. You both were so comfortable around each other. It was so familiar, so natural… It wasn’t right.

And Gaz, he wasn’t any better. You had asked him for additional training and on most days, Ghost found you two at the shooting range long after the recruits had left for dinner. At first, your conversations were shallow. In between firing rounds of high-caliber ammunition, you asked him about his life on base and how long he’d known Soap and Price. But the conversations eventually grew longer. And they grew deeper. Gaz told you about his family, his hometown, and his childhood. You told him about how difficult it was to leave the States and move to the UK on your own.

Ghost could tell that as the days were passing and as your conversations were growing more meaningful, the two of you were starting to trust one another more. And that frustrated him. Why couldn’t Gaz see what he saw in you?

He wondered if your skills were what threw the others off.

Ghost couldn’t deny that you were better than most of the other recruits. You were a natural at the shooting range. You picked up on techniques quickly and put them into practice almost flawlessly. And even though you pretended to be intimidated by it in the beginning you were especially good with a sniper rifle. You always asked the right questions about the winds, the terrain, and any potential bullet drop. And while Ghost found that suspicious, Gaz seemed to be amazed by it. Proud even. He joked with you about how quickly you could do math in your head and how that would come in handy if you were ever posted up in a sniper’s nest someday.

“Over my dead body,” Ghost had mumbled to himself as he watched you both from the shadows.

But you weren’t perfect. When Ghost did pull himself out of the base’s dark corners and did talk with you, you were always nervous. You spoke at breakneck speeds. Your sentences mushed together, like a quickly moving mudslide, totally out of control and unpredictable. You struggled to look him in the eyes. You fidgeted, stared at your shoes, and gave him any excuse you could to get away.

 “Sorry can’t chat, Johnny wants to train in the gym.”

 “I think I just heard Gaz call my name.”

 “Gotta go. Price needs me.”

And Price… you definitely had that man wrapped around your little finger. Or at least Ghost thought you did until one night when he heard you two fighting inside the Captain’s office.

“Price, why won’t you tell me what you and Laswell are planning for the raid?”

Your words had stopped Ghost in his tracks. He glanced down the empty hall to make sure no one was around before sinking to his knees and pressing his ear to the door of Price’s office.

“Come on, love we’ve been over this,” he heard the Captain answer.

“But I can help!”

Your voice was pleading. You were practically begging Price. But why did you care so much Ghost wondered?

“I want you to focus on training. You asked me to teach you to fight remember?”

“I know… but you also promised to let me take some of the weight off your shoulders too.”

“You’re too smart, you know that.”

“Price…” you whined the Captain’s name and Ghost rolled his eyes. He imagined that on the other side of the door, you were probably looking up at Price with doe eyes. Needy and wanton. God… you probably were pouting your lips too.

He could only hope that Price would see through you.

“I want you to be as prepared as you can be before then. I can handle this, I promise ya I’m fine. We’ve got more resources and men now. It’s not like before. We aren’t alone anymore. Ya trust me don’t you?”

Good man, Ghost thought to himself. Don’t give in to her so easily. As long as Price continued to keep his cards close to his chest maybe they’d all get through this in one piece.

“But what if he’s there? What if he has my briefcase there and he’s figured out how to use it? He’ll see you coming. Price what if this is a setup?” You were doing that thing where you spoke 100 miles an hour again, your words sloshing and sliding into one another.

“Laswell’s been surveilling the area. He hasn’t been there. Your briefcase isn’t there.”

“Price but what if-”

“Shhh. It’s okay. Come here, love.”

Ghost heard the sound of a chair scrape and footsteps shuffle away from the door. He knew you were walking over to Price. He could practically see you standing in front of him in his mind.

Then you sighed.

“I’m tired, Price.” Your voice was softer. Ghost could barely hear you now. He tried to press even closer to the door. The metal was cold against his ear. “I know I asked for this… learning how to fight. But it’s harder than I thought it would be and…”

You stopped.

“Go on. Say it.”

“Your Lieutenant…”

Shit. Your voice was muffled.

Shit. He needed to hear this.

Ghost slowly reached for the door handle and carefully, he turned the knob. The door opened the smallest crack. He peered inside.

You were sitting across the room, straddled on Price’s lap. Your head was buried against his chest. The Captain’s hands rubbed against the back of your t-shirt in lazy circles.

“Ghost? What about him, sweetheart?”

At the sound of Price’s voice, you pulled your head from his chest.

“He hates me.”

Price stilled and his jaw clenched. Neither of you spoke. Ghost held his breath before looking to his left and right. Thankfully, the coast was still clear.

“He doesn’t trust you,” Price eventually said, breaking through the silence.

“That’s the same thing.”

“It’s not.”

You sighed loudly and moved to stand, but Price reached up and quickly pulled you back toward him by your hips.

“Don’t leave,” Price said, his voice low and firm. “I trust you.”

“Then why doesn’t he?”

Because I know there’s something else going on with you, Ghost thought to himself. Because I know there’s a secret you’re hiding.

“Because he doesn’t know you like I do.” Price replied, his hand moving up your spine to hold the back of your head. “He doesn’t know how smart you are. That you can build something from nothing. He doesn’t know that you’re a fighter, that you’ve been dealt a shite hand in life but you’ve always soldiered on.”

Price leaned forward and kissed you.

Ghost looked down at the floor. He should leave, he thought. He should go back to the barracks and sit behind his computer and look for dirt on you that way. It would be less awkward. He’d feel less strange.

But Ghost didn’t move. He couldn’t.

What if this was the moment you finally slipped? What if you said something? He needed to be more patient. He’d stay a little longer. If only for Gaz, for Johnny. If they got hurt because he missed something he’d never forgive himself.

He watched as Price leaned back, pulling away from your lips. A smile sprawled across his face.

“He doesn’t know how sweet you taste either, sweetheart.”

You laughed, running your own hands through Price’s short hair as the Captain dove into your neck.

“I mean it, love. If any of those boys got to taste you like I do, if they got to feel you like I do…” Price pulled back from your neck and looked you in the eye. “If they got to fuck you like I do… none of them would ever distrust you.”

“Price, that isn’t really reassuring. You’re just saying you trust me because we’ve fucked.”

Ghost’s grip tightened against the door knob. Was that what Price was saying? Was that really all you were to him? A plaything?

He opened the door another inch. He needed to see your face better. He had to know what this was between you and his Captain.

“Remember the first day I brought you here? And I took you to my room. And I showed you all my scars. Do you remember?”

Ghost watched as Price tugged on your hair. Your head tilted back toward the ceiling and the captain dove into your neck again, kissing you just below your ear.

“Yes,” you answered with heavily weighted breath.

“And do you remember how you kissed me? How you teased me before you slid your sweet little tongue into my mouth? Do you remember?”

“Mhmm,” you hummed in affirmation.

“And do you remember how good it felt when my tongue was in between your legs? How it felt when my beard brushed against your thighs.”

Ghost felt his face grow hot. The scene in front of him made him feel like an intruder, a dirty and unwelcome voyeur. He knew he should leave.

But he couldn't make himself move.

He needed the truth.

He watched as one of Price’s hands left your hair and trailed slowly down your body. His fingers moved from your collarbone. Lower. Grazing your breast. Lower. Lingering over your stomach… Lower.

“Yesssss,” you whined as Price’s hand slid underneath the waistband of your pants and disappeared from Ghost’s view.

“And do you remember how hard you made me? Just by tasting you? Tell me you remember.”

You whimpered. It was a sound Ghost had never heard from you. Sweet. High-pitched. Soft.

Price’s shoulder moved up and down. His hand still plunged between your legs.

Ghost swallowed against a lump in his throat.

“I- fuckkkk,” you bucked your hips toward Price, “I remember.”

“And tell me you remember how I fucked you. When I first pushed inside you… how was it? Do you remember was I fast, like this?”

Ghost watched as Price moved his hand quicker. In and out. His right shoulder rose. Up and down. Faster, faster, and faster.

You yelped. The noise was loud and short. Your hands left Price’s hair and dug into his shoulders. You were clawing into him desperately. Falling apart with every second, every movement.

“No… no you weren’t fast,” your voice wavered as you answered.

“Good. Good girl. You remembered. Yeah, I was slow, just like this. Wasn’t I?” Price eased his pace, slowing down the movement of his hand buried in your pants.

“Yes… just like that,” you moaned as your eyes rolled back. You were lifting your hips up and down on Price’s lap now. Matching his pace.

Ghost shifted on his knees. His hand tightened against the doorknob as he continued to watch you both from the dimly lit hall.

“Has anyone else ever made you feel like that before, sweetheart? Has anyone ever made you feel that good?” Price asked as his voice dropped lower. He was practically growling at you.

And you…your face turned pink. Your lips parted. Your eyes closed. And your breathing… it became sporadic. Each inhale became a gasp. Each exhale became more desperate than the last.

This was wrong. Ghost shouldn’t be watching this. This wasn’t his intention. He never meant to see this. His eyes fell to the ground. But still, he stayed. He listened.

“No,” you moaned.

“That’s right. And no one has ever made me feel as good as you did either. You felt so good, love. So fucking good. And you want to know why I trust you?”

Ghost eyes snapped back to the two of you. This was the answer he needed.

“Mmmm tell me...” you gasped. The Captain picked up his pace, his hand delving between your legs with greater force. God the sounds your body was making. They were so loud. “Please tell me, Price.”

“It’s because I love you, beautiful. I’m so in love with you. You’re so perfect. I trust you with my life because I love you. I want to fuck you like that all the time… because I love you. If anyone got to love you like I love you they would trust you. Forever. Always.”

Ghost heard enough. He quietly backed away and gently closed the door.

He had found a truth today. Even if it wasn’t his place to hear it.

-----------------------------------------------------

(More from this story on AO3)

[cheemscakecat]

Bucket Scene Analysis pt. 1

So I’m revisiting the Bucket Scene from Expiration Date, and I noticed some things. Spy’s feelings got really hurt, but the other Mercenaries didn’t mean to seriously upset him. Let’s go over their POV first.

Engineer and Medic are doing more experiments on the teleporter, so they aren’t present for the bucket scene. They’ll be trying to figure out a way to stop the tumors for the next three days instead of accepting the team’s deaths.

Soldier is too dumb to understand what’s going on, and Pyro presumably isn’t aware enough of his surroundings.

Demoman comes from a family with really disturbing traditions; they let him live as an orphan and only revealed themselves after he killed his adoptive family in an explosion… Because he was showing his skill. He’s actually expected to lose his sight entirely like his parents. Out of anybody there who knows what’s happening, he’s the most unbothered by them dying because of that twisted heritage.

Sniper calls his parents every week, and I’m sure he’s told them/about to tell them what’s happening. But he also has a plan to kill everyone he meets, so even if he is bothered by the fact that he’ll die, he’s not going to make the others privy.

Heavy has been responsible for his three sisters and his mother since he was a child. Around them, he’d be a bit more open and accept their hand on his shoulder.. But not Spy. Around co-workers, Heavy’d rather think on what’s happening and be left to those thoughts. Besides that, he already provided a secluded cabin in Siberia for his family to keep them safe, so if he dies at work he’ll be at peace knowing they’re ok.

I very much get the vibe that Spy never puts his hand on the others like this, and that’s why Heavy hit him with that Side-eye Claire face.

Now Scout? He’s an interesting case because he’s about to humiliate Spy with the fake cards, but in terms of them dying in three days:

“Ve have three days to live!”

It’s subtle, but he looks like he might cry. Not in front of them, but still. And that tracks, because he and Spy are the most sensitive members of the team. You can look at Spy’s reaction behind Medic, and it becomes more obvious.

But Jeremy wasn’t raised by Spy.

He was raised by his mother [who’s doing her best] and seven older brothers who are terrible role models. I have no doubt that his brothers were involved in petty street crime and gangs when they were younger, even if some came to their senses as adults. And gangs are not well known for emotional stability.

Scout grew up around seven guys that wanted to be “hard” and ignored their emotional needs/daddy issues… As the youngest and the most sensitive one. I imagine that crying and showing that something is getting to you was met with mockery. And being labeled a weakling. So Scout did his best to stop showing that “weakness”.

Now he’s graduated from the criminal fights his brothers used to get into, and joined a group of mercenaries. Since he looked up to his brothers and grew up imbedded in their worldview, he seeks approval from the other Mercenaries in the same way. That’s why he chooses to mock Spy instead of asking for the last wishes. It makes him look unbothered and he can call Spy the weak one instead of being cruelly labeled himself.

But RED team doesn’t operate like Scout’s siblings or a gang. They’re all individuals that specialize in a certain area of mercenary work, who could leave for a different team or independent work if they weren’t happy on the team. [Provided they don’t release any information that the Administrator wants hidden, or rebel against her.]

So when Scout pranks Spy, they aren’t seeing his as a weakling; it’s not even crossing their minds. They’re smiling because Scout seems happy despite impending doom. And why shouldn’t they be glad that he’s having a good time of it? Beats being dejected and since he’s the youngest, they’re more worried about his well-being.

What’s interesting is that Heavy seems to sense that Spy is upset, because his smile noticeably fades when he looks up. But I still don’t think he realizes how much this prank and the teams’ indifference hurt Spy.

[mockerycrow]

Hello!!!!!! So i was wonderinfg if you could do a piece for cod mw2? A platonic 141 (other characters can be added if youd like) x (preferably 18-20 yr old) gn or fem reader. It can be a oneshot or headcannons, i dont mind either format!!! If you do a oneshot, any scenario (a mission, off duty, etc) is fine w me!!! You basically have free reign, just keep it strictly platonic, not even a smidge of the hints w the reader and romantic relationships 👍❤️

Ain’t That A Kick In The Head? (Platonic!141 x Fem!Reader)

cod masterlist

A/N: YESS!! I LOVE PLATONIC FICS!! 99% of my writing so far has been romantic, kind of funny considering I’m aromantic and queer. thank you anon <3 i’m also sorry for taking so long. your speciality isn’t specified, but it can’t be demolitions, im sorry!! plot purposes.

[WARNINGS: mentioned misogyny, fluff.]

Considering how young you are, you deal with quite a lot of people who have low expectations for you. To be fair, you don’t have much experience, but you are a quick learner and that’s very much needed on this base. You’re a Specialist, one rank above Private in the U.S. army ranks. When people first meet you, they expect you to be a coward, a twenty year old girl—is what they like to call you—who doesn’t know the difference between a 5.56 mm cartridge and a 7.62 mm cartridge, a clueless little girl. Of course you did not know everything, but it was clear you know enough and have enough skill as you’re apart of the 141.

When you were first picked for the team, Ghost was a bit skeptical. Your age played a big factor because he was concerned about your level of experience, but he overall trusts Price’s judgement. A huge part of it was him worried about how you would take in all of the traumatizing sights they see on every mission. How you would be able to take someone down without a second thought, even if they pleaded for their life. He didn’t voice this worry, nor did he do anything to “shield” you because he knows you know what you signed up for.

You physically train/spar with Ghost and Gaz separately frequently. They are different in size and in style of defense/attack, so they both give you great pointers on how to defend yourself and how to initiate an attack. You have a schedule with them; when you’re on base, you train with Gaz Mondays and Tuesdays and Ghosts on Thursdays, preferably early in the morning with Gaz and in the evening with Ghost. Even when you perfect your own style for attack and defense, you keep training with them; “So you don’t get rusty.”

Price knows what you signed up for, and he knows that he picked you, so like everyone else on the task force, he begins to train you. Being an expert in violence and timing—unconventional warfare too, he occasionally sits in on your training sessions with Gaz and/or Ghost. Sometimes, he talks with Gaz or Ghost beforehand to set up a specific scenario for you to find a way to get out of alive.

Being said, Price takes you out as well as the team to a training field, doing the exact same thing but in a more.. realistic scenario. Being so young, he figures you still have an unacceptable type of response with “fight, flight, or freeze”. His plan is to strip away the freeze response because that’s the one that will get you killed. He also very specifically has himself and your teammates as the enemies in this field because while you’re supposed to trust your team with your life, there’s also often betrayal in the field.

Soap is a demolitions expert, as well as a sniper. He absolutely refuses to let you handle real bombs at first because he knows you didn’t specialize in demolitions like he did. After spending a few months with you, he brings out non-dangerous replicas of bombs and replicated parts to begin to show you how to take a bomb apart/defuse it, when it’s best to let it explode, or how to put one together for emergencies. He absolutely 110% makes sure you know it’s for emergencies when he isn’t there. It’s not that he thinks you’re incapable, but he can’t help but worry. Him learning about how Gaz and Price met, how Price only had seconds to shove the hostage with a bomb vest strapped to him over that railing? Fucking terrifying to him.

Gaz also helps you complete your interrogation training—not being the interrogator, but then interrogatee. Undergoing several mentally challenging tests himself of this variety, he tasks himself with giving you pointers. Your task is to keep your mouth shut about intel and escape the facility and remain hidden, uncaptured during the entire test. He’s so incredibly used to uncomfortable situations, so his pointers during this—seeing that he passed this test himself, the only one who past it in his class—his advice is helpful.

Besides training with Ghost, he coaches you ambushes and stealth. Every time you’re caught in a test, he coaches you on how to evade, on how to remain hidden even when the enemy is right in front of you. He teaches you how to set up traps and ruses, what traps are most commonly used and spotted and what ones aren’t.

Overall, they know you’re inexperienced and young, but you quickly take their advice and training into account, and you get to teach them a thing or two when you arrive on base. You learn quick and Price finally feels as if you’re ready for an intense stealth mission, accompanied by the team. They don’t have any doubt held in their hearts for you, 100% trusting your abilities.

[salmon-bagel]

Tf2 mercenaries x Seductress! Class! Reader

Warning: nsfw content, female reader, sexism

Scout

When Scout heard that there's a woman who's a professional at seduction, he had already started plotting.

"Hello, name is Y/n L/n, but you can call me the Seductress. It's nice to meet you."

"Heya, nice to meet cha' mommy- Oh, i mean mommy i mean mommy i mean mommy i mean mommy-"

Constantly hits on you. Scout believes that you're the type of girl that's 'easy', someone who will let anyone bang them regardless of who they are.

That boy isn't going to leave you alone until you let him into your pants.

Even when he's not busy trying to get in between your legs, Scout is asking you for advice on how to woo the ladies. Considering you're a professional at flirting with people.

You go back and forth on giving him good advice and bad advice. Sometimes you feel bad that he can't get a girlfriend. Then again, you think to yourself that no woman should be within three feet of Scout because of how much of a horny asshole he is.

After some time, you did grow to have a soft spot for him. Since he's bullied a lot by the other mercenaries. He can be kinda cute when he's not being a complete jerk.

Soldier

Soldier treats you like the other mercenaries. Ruthlessly bleating in your ear when you're doing something wrong.

"GIVE ME ONE HUNDRED SQUATS NOW! I WANT THAT AMERICAN ASS NICE AND PERKY BY THE TIME YOU'RE DONE!"

He wants the best from you. Regardless of your gender, he'll push you to the limit until he's proud enough to call you a warrior.

Soldier tests that you're a good seductress by making you flirt with him. It's an ego boost on his part, but he's genuinely trying to make sure you're hot enough for the enemy.

"YOU CALL THAT FLIRTING!? I'VE HEARD BETTER FLIRTING FROM A MONKEY! AT LEAST THEY CAN PUCKER THEIR LIPS BETTER UNLIKE YOURS!"

Buys you clothing that he believes would work well when you're seducing the enemies. It's always american themed swimwear or lingerie. You began to believe he's just buying that for himself for you to try.

Whenever the team successfully wins for the day, Soldier immediately rushes towards and smacks your ass as hard as he can.

"NOW THAT IS AN ASS I'M PROUD TO CALL AMERICAN!"

Sniper

Sniper believes your work is very unprofessional. Considering he believes you have to whore yourself out to the enemy team. Instead of using your actual skills.

He says he has nothing against prostitution or sex work in general. Sniper just thinks that stuff you do should be kept behind doors and not on the battlefield. He says it causes too much of a distraction. However, you claim that 'distraction' is the point. Sniper doesn't seem to get it.

You honestly could care less what he thinks. Snipers throws jars of piss for a living, and he really thinks he has the right to judge other people?

The truth is you're good at seducing people. Too good. That it distracts him from doing his own job. Sniper has a tendency to watch you through the scope of his gun.

The way your body gets all hot and sweaty from the terrible heat, oh it does something to him. Sniper has imagined licking your sweat off your tits while you degrade him for being such a filthy fuck.

You are his go-to jerk off material. The women in his porno magazines don't get him off like they used. The only way he can relieve himself now is by imagining your fat ass bouncing on his cock.

When he noticed a pair of your panties in the laundry basket, Sniper couldn't help himself to inhale the sweet scent of your panties before putting them back.

Sniper knows he's a damn hypocrite.

He slut shames you for what you do, only to get off to you afterwards. The post nut clarity consumes him with guilt and shame.

Sniper still hasn't built up the courage to apologize to you.

Heavy

Heavy is one of the very few people who treat you like an actual human being. He was raised by a single mother alongside three sisters. Heavy knows to treat a woman right. Less he wishes to face their fury.

Heavy doesn't understand why you seduce the enemy. You're supposed to shoot at the enemy, not bat your eyelashes and wink! However, after watching your work on the battlefield, he gets to more of an understanding.

"Oh, I see. You lie to enemy and lure them in like fish? HA! Very clever!"

Absolutely loves gunning down the enemy that is distracted by you.

Is one of the few men who genuinely falls for you for your personality. Heavy knows you're drop-dead gorgeous, but he knows that beneath all that beauty is a truly intelligent woman. You earned your place on the team by impressing Mann Co., with your skills instead of batting your eyelashes and begging to be a part of the team. You make his heart swoon like no other woman has.

He likes to write you poetry. It helps convey how he feels for you because he's too bashful to put it into simple words.

Heavy is not afraid of anything. Nothing, not even death itself. However, it took him a lot of courage and constant rehearsal to ask you out on a date.

He hopes to start a genuine relationship with you. Heavy doesn't want a one-night stand or be friends-with-benefits with you. He wants you to be his girlfriend and maybe possibly his wife later down the line.

Engineer

"Well, I'll be! Aren't you the prettiest thing I've ever seen."

Engineer is taken aback by your good looks and sauve personality. He genuinely questions why you wanted to be a mercenary. A beautiful lady like yourself is too of high risk to get hurt!

Will always be there to help you if it gets too much for you to handle.

However, he can be very overprotective over you on the battlefield. Engineer thinks it would be safer for you to stay on the rancho relaxo than getting shot at by the enemy. As much as you'd like to not do anything on the job, Mann Co. isn't paying you to be lazy. They see everything and will tell you to get off your ass and start fighting.

You have to beg Engineer that you can do it on your own. He understands your point of view and begrudgingly lets you fight with the others. Even if it means going against his code of defending and protecting a lady when she needs it.

While putting up dispensers and sentries, he can't help to admire you from afar. Engie believes that a guy like him has no chance with a girl like you. What woman would be interested in a bald man who has a robotic hand and locks himself away in his work? No gal that's who.

Engie fantasizes about working up the courage to flirt with you and ask you out, which would eventually lead to a rather sensual night spent together. He did try to ask you out once but miserably failed. Engie kept stuttering and mispronouncing words out of nervousness while attempting to seduce you. You couldn't make out what he was trying to say. Thankfully, Demo had the heart to pull Engie out of that mess of a conversation and save him from further embarrassing himself.

So now, he just admires you from afar. Dreaming that one day he'll get to win your heart.

Spy

Surprisingly, he wants to get to know you as soon as possible. It's not every day you get to meet a lovely lady.

When he learns of your class type, oh boy, this man will make you question if you're even meant to be the Seductress.

"Mademoiselle, you are the most beautiful creature I've ever laid my eyes on."

"Do you know why they call Paris the city of love? Why don't I take you there and show you?"

"If the verb ‘to love’ didn’t exist, I would have invented it upon seeing you."

Spy leaves your entire face red and completely frozen after he's done talking to you. He's so flattering and charismatic. In comparison to the other men, he makes it seem like they're not trying at all. It isn't their fault, though, Spy is a natural at wooing the ladies.

You're surprised when Spy gifts you things that you really like. You never shared these intimate details with him before or with the other mercenaries. When you asked him how he knew what you specifically liked, Spy merely winks at you and grins. He has a way of receiving information without anyone knowing.

He has a tendency to kiss the back of your hand whenever you two are greeting each other. Spy is a gentleman and can't help himself to be sweet to a beautiful woman.

When Spy asks you out on a date, you agree to it because you have been meaning to go out. You felt like you'd go insane if you stayed in the base any longer. You put on your best dress and left with Spy into town.

After having a nice meal and a few glasses of wine, both of you give into temptation. Spy could hardly keep his hands off you when he drove you both back to the base. All your clothes came off the moment you reached his bedroom. You found it a little strange he refused to take off his mask. Oh, what the hell. He's hot and treated you to a nice date.

In the morning, you receive uncomfortable stares from the other mercenaries. Let's just say you and Spy weren't exactly quiet during your lovemaking. Unfortunately for the others, you decided Spy would become your fuck buddy.

Medic

He's been meaning to include a female subject in his experiments- I mean, he's glad to meet you!

You try your best to steer clear of him. However, on the front lines, it isn't so easy. When you're constantly getting shot at and stabbed by enemies, you'll need the Medic's help to get better.

When he sees you in action, Medic feels a new emotion that he's never felt before. Is this.. love? Maybe it is. Or maybe it's just lust.

Medic has never been infatuated with any woman. Except you. The way you lure in these pathetic men with your good looks and false promises, only to kill them afterwards- oh God, it makes him giddy. He feels like a schoolboy all over again!

Medic does routine check-ups on you. To make sure all your lady parts are in working order. In reality, this perverted fuck wants to have an excuse to grope you. Always gaslights you into believing he's not being a degenerate.

"Is this really necessary?"

"Why, of course! Breast cancer isn't something to take lightly!" He'd respond. You would understand, but after thirty minutes of him fondling your breasts, you knew what his true intentions were.

Medic writes you love letters and his dove, Archimedes, deliver them to you.

The letters start off relatively sweet. Medic writes that he views you as a Goddess, a truly ethereal being that is too perfect for this world filled with lesser mortals. And how he's the only man truly worthy for you.

Then, the letters take a complete turn the more you read it. He writes how he wishes to fulfill every filthy fantasy he's ever had with you. Oh boy, the list is long. For one, Medic wants to tie you down, gag you, and breed you like the filthy whore you are. Another consited of how he wants to fuck you on the battlefield while you're bleeding out and fingering your open wound as if it was your pussy.

You've stopped reading his letters and tend to light them on fire.

Demoman

"So, how much do you regularly charge for a quick shag?" He'd ask you before laughing his ass off.

Demo will never take you or your work seriously. Even if you politely ask him to.

He doesn't see what's so hard about showing off your tits and saying how much you love to suck cock. Demo believes you should've been a stripper if you wanted to tease men so desperately.

You frequently explain to him in detail how you help and provide for the team. You honestly can't tell if Demo deliberately forgets or because he gets drunk so often, he hardly pays attention to you while you talk.

Don't worry, though. After you've instilled the fear of women into him, he'll be gladly reminded that he shouldn't judge or ridicule a woman. If his mother were here, she'd knock some sense into him.

Demo apologizes to you, drinks, gets drunk, and apologies some more

"I'm sorry, lassie! It's just that I just get so lonely sometimes! What woman would give me, a one-eyed freak, a chance!"

He bawls on the floor, crying in front of you. You attempt to cheer him up by comforting him. Instead, you end up getting drunk with him.

Did you shag him in the heat of the moment? That's all up to you ;)

Pyro

Has no idea what you're doing to the enemy. Anything sexual you do is translated as innocent in their vision. Will never know what real seduction or sex.

Luckily, they think everything you do is nice and polite!

Regularly gives you grotesque gifts, which are usually human hearts and bones. You begrudgingly take the gifts because you know they mean well and don't wish to be disrespectful.

Pyro has a tendency to go through your closet when you leave your room. Or while you're sleeping. Either why, they steal your clothing and belongings. They pick out outfits and wigs they like along with makeup supplies. You wonder where you placed your dress and immediately begin searching for it. Maybe you left it in the laundry room. As soon as you exit your room, you see Pyro wearing your clothing over their suit. Fake eyelashes have been glued onto their eyes, and lipstick smeared all over the breathing hole.

You can't even be upset with Pyro. They're doing their best.

You let Pyro keep the dress they're wearing, considering it most likely wouldn't fit you anymore.

[jo-speaks]

more ways than one

in which...

luke shows up to fem! reader's college soccer game.

Luke scanned his ticket, walking into the stadium. He had a really big test coming up, but the second Mark, Ethan, and Dylan invited him to watch the girl’s soccer team take on Michigan State, he dropped everything and headed towards the stadium.

“I heard that Y/N girl is really good.” Ethan said, leading the group of boys to their seats. 

Mark hummed, “Is that the girl who absolutely destroyed you at beer pong last week?” Mark’s comment caused the boys to laugh, and Ethan to grimace. 

“Yeah.”

“Well if her soccer skills are anything like her beer pong skills, I’d say that what you heard is right.” Luke stated, getting a few more jabs at Ethan.

Dylan chirped in, “She’s only a sophomore and she’s captain and she’s leading the whole NCAA in goals. I mean, why do you think her friends called her the ‘sophomore sniper’ when they introduced her at the party?” 

Mark laughed at Dylan’s slight rant, “Sounds like someone has a little crush.”

“I do not! I just did my research before coming here.” Dylan retorted. “If anything Luke’s the one with the crush. He told us he had a huge test coming up, but the second we mention girls soccer, he drops everything. A little suspicious, no?” 

A warm feeling rose to Luke’s face. Knowing Dylan was right, he just laughed it off and stayed quiet. 

Luke had approached you at said party because the second he laid eyes on you the boy was smitten. The two of you talked the whole night, but by the end of it you were both too drunk to remember to exchange numbers. Sure, he could’ve asked around the fraternity, but he wasn’t sure if you remembered your interaction at all. So he saw this game as a perfect opportunity to get your number. 

You could hear the laughter approaching close to the field. It was familiar, but you didn’t care enough to turn around as you were on your 47th juggle. 

“No way you get 70!” Your teammate, Jules, exclaimed. 

You laughed, “Not if you keep talking!”

She chuckled as she watched you closely. Soon enough, you had passed seventy, nearing ninety. You hit 86, wanting to go for more but your coach called out your name, telling you to go meet with the refs to decide which side you wanted. Settling the ball with a groan, Jules grabbed your hand and pulled you to the midfield with a slight tug. 

You greeted the refs and the opposing team’s captains with a slight smile. When you went to shake one of the girls’ hands, they both side-eyed each other, looking you and Jules up and down, then refusing your hand. 

Furrowing your brows, you let out a small scoff at their attitudes, but let it go as you picked ‘tails’ for the coin flip. 

It was heads, and they picked having the right side of the field, meaning you’d have the ball first. As you walked away, heading back to the rest of your team, Jules’s laughter filled your ears. 

“Oh my god! The attitude they had?” She laughed. 

You gave her a smile, “I know! On our field too.”

The closer you got to the sidelines, your eyes couldn’t help but take a glance at the group of boys who had sat down laughing. The second you could make out their features, a smile grew on your face. Luke was sitting there, along with three other boys which you quickly realized as his hockey teammates. You had been trying to get his number ever since the interaction you had at the party, but never found the right time to. In your head, you promised yourself you’d get it tonight. 

You decided to snap out of your thoughts and nudged Jules, “Look. Your boy toy is here.” 

Jules’s eyes widened as she followed your eyes, “What the hell are they doing here?” She walked over to the fence to say something you couldn’t quite hear, but figured she called Ethan over as he walked down a few steps to talk to her. 

Not caring enough to eavesdrop, you walked towards the rest of your team, letting them know you’d have ball first. They nodded, going back to their warm up. You took a glance up at the scoreboard which had the clock displayed on it. There was around five minutes left, and you wanted to do some long passing. 

“Jules!” You called out, bringing her attention back to you. 

She said something to Ethan before jogging back towards you. “Sorry. Long passes?” You nodded, “What was that about?

“They invited us to get some food after the game. You down?”

“Is Luke gonna be there?” You asked. 

Jules smirked at your question, “Yeah. Why?” 

You left her question unanswered, smiling as you walked away from her with a ball at your feet.

Five minutes went by quickly, as you heard the whistles blowing, telling you that the game was about to start. You jogged towards your team, listening to a quick pep talk before getting ready to hear the starting line up and National Anthem. 

You blanked out during the whole process, too focused on the game ahead of you. By the time you knew it, the whistle blew and you passed the ball to one of your teammates. 

Knowing exactly what play you were running, the second you saw the ball get to Jules, who was playing at the left wing, you made a diagonal run towards the goal. It was a high cross, but you managed to settle it at your feet before taking a shot from the 20 yard line. You watched as the ball soared towards the top corner of the net, making its way past the keeper’s gloves. 

You ran towards Jules, who was waiting for you at the corner flag. The two of you did the handshake you did every single time one of you assisted the other's goal, before hugging each other, then the rest of you teammates. 

As you ran back down the field to restart, you couldn’t help but take a glance up at the stands. They were decently packed, but your eyes quickly found the ones you were looking for.

You saw Luke sit back down from his standing position and to no one’s surprise he was looking right at you. You pointed at him with a smile and he quickly returned the action. 

While you focused back on the game, Luke was getting teased by his friends. 

“Ooo! Lukey’s got game!” Ethan exclaimed, shaking his friend by the shoulders. 

Luke laughed, “Shut up.”

~✩~

The game ended an hour or so later, the final score being 4-2. You had scored three of those four goals, earning you a post-game interview with some reporters who had shown up at the game. 

They had decided to interview you on the sidelines. This meant you were close enough to be near your team, but also close enough so Luke and the other guys could hear what you were saying. 

“Y/N, amazing performance out there tonight! What would you say is the biggest factor in your training that makes you such a valuable player out there?” The interviewer asked, bringing a mic close to your face. 

“The conditioning, for sure. I mean, we’re making a lot of long back and forth runs out there and we’re able to do so consistently because of that conditioning.” You answered, smiling slightly to take away the nerves you were feeling.

The interviewer nodded, “You pointed to someone after that first goal. Was it a family member, a friend, or…?” 

You let out a soft laugh, “Um, no. It was a good friend of mine that I'm meeting up with after this."

Luke heard your words, as did his friends. His eyes widened at your statement, specifically the part where you said you were hoping to meet up with him. 

“Oh shit!” Mark exclaimed, “Bro, she's talking about you!" He shook his head, “We don’t even know if she’s talking about me. She could’ve been pointing at one of you.” The boys laughed at his statement.

“I’m talking to her best friend, Mark’s taken, and Dylan’s not her type.” Ethan said.

“What’s wrong with me?” Dylan asked jokingly, yet seriously. 

Mark shrugged, “She said she was into tall guys. As in, guys over six feet.” 

Laughing at Mark’s words, the group of boys made their way down to the field to wait for Jules and hopefully, you.

Jules made her way over the boys, sliding her hand into Ethan’s. “What’s Luke all red for?”

“Y/N mentioned him in her interview just now.” Ethan told her casually.

Her eyes widened, “Seriously?”

Luke quickly shook his head, “We don’t know for sure it was about me.”

Before Jules could question it any more, you were walking over. You gave everyone a quick greeting which they happily returned. As you were all about to make your way towards the exit, you decided now was a better moment than ever. 

“Hey Luke? Can I talk to you for a second?” You asked, trying to ignore all the stupid grins on everyone else's faces. 

He smiled and turned around, “Yeah.”

The two of you stepped away from the group towards an area on the sidelines where people couldn’t hear you. 

“Great game tonight.” He said, trying to dissolve some of the awkwardness that was beginning to build. 

You smiled, “Thanks. I appreciate you coming.” “Yeah, anything for a good friend of mine.” He smirked, quoting your previous words. 

You looked away and laughed, now knowing he heard that part of your interview. “Funny. Anyway, I had a really good time talking with you last week and I was hoping to maybe get your number?” Luke’s face turned slightly red yet again as he smiled and nodded as you pulled out your phone so he could type in his information. “I was hoping you’d ask.” 

After he handed you your phone back, the two of you made your way back to your friends.

Jules pulled you back slightly, letting the boys walk ahead, “Looks like you scored in more ways than one, huh?”

“I definitely did.”

[hotchtits]

go on bby. talk about hotch. as much as you want ill read it all

*kisses you on the mouth sloppy style*

How I feel about this character

AAARGSHHSIDK AA AAAJDJEJ AHHHDJSJSJ

uh i mean he’s cool i guess.

no all jokes aside there are very few characters that are doing it like him.

he’s the leader of one of the most elite teams in the FBI. he’s a wet cat. he’s the epitome of traditional heterosexuality. he’s a boy kisser. he’s cold and distant. he loves his team more than anything in the world. he’s the next best profiler after gideon. he’s a massive idiot and a dork who collects coins. he’s got the skill level of a sniper/marksman. he does most of his team's paperwork so they can focus in the field. he’s no nonsense and straight laced. he seriously considered using web shooters at the FBI. he frequently catches an attitude with his boss, bigoted cops, and generally people in higher positions of power than him (and they just kind of take it). he has enough connections to get the italian government to revoke diplomatic immunity of a vatican priest. he's on a first name basis with the attorney general. he's kind of (at first) an absent father. he's a single mother of 6. he killed a man with his bare hands. he's so unbelievably gentle. he’s a white guy in a basic ass suit. he serves unprecedented levels of cunt.

what i keep coming back to is how much he cares. he cares about victims, he cares about unsubs (the ones that had justifiable reasons for being the way they are), more than anything he cares about his team.

the lengths he goes to to protect them or even just let them know he's there for them. he doesn't raise his voice, even when he's furious and when they lash out at him, he just absorbs it. aaaaaaugh. even roy, who hates his guts, he still cares about and still tries to make nice with for the sake of his son still having a grandparent in his life.

long story short i love aaron hotchner for all of his fucked up ways, big wet eyes, and self sacrificing demeanor.

All the people I ship romantically with this character

am i insane for saying the whole team? poly bau has a special place in my heart. i think he should get to have several boyfriends and several girlfriends. and his boyfriends are boyfriends and his girlfriends are girlfriends and they're all just happy.

hotch x happiness thats actually my favorite ship.

i mainly go for hotchgan, though, they make me want to rip my hair out. their push and pull, their similarities, hotch's head vs morgan's heart. kill me please.

i feel like him and rossi couldve also had a thing back in the preshow days. they give The Subway by chappell roan when he comes back in season three there is nothing casual about them.

hotchley before the divorce was so sweet :( i have such mixed feelings though because i can see how both of them would be frustrated with the other.

john blackwolf gets to be here as a treat because i think they would be absolutely destroy a buddy cop comedy thats actually a slowburn enemies to lovers. im aware this is just the plot of The Tribe.

My non-romantic OTP for this character

jessica brooks. im being so serious she stepped up in a way that very few others did. her offering to look after jack after hailey dies, staying with him when hotch gets called away, defending him against roy. also their banter is wonderful they r sooo siblings to me.

him and garcia are a very close second. obviously her and morgan are It but we gotta start putting some respect on him and garcia because

“i know you see the best in people, and i’d never want you to change that”

and the way she stayed with him when he collapsed in s9 aaarggh.

also hotchniss but as a wlw/bisexual friendship. they both agree that hotch has awful taste in men and that emily is a useless lesbian.

My unpopular opinion about this character

i mentioned this in someone else’s ask about unpopular HCs but i dont think he’s this #daddydom character in bed that people write him as. (disclaimer, headcanons are headcanons and im not bashing them, this is just what i think)

i can see him being dominant in bed (tho im a sub!hotch truther) but i dont think he’d go in for sadism or degrading or anything like that. given his childhood abuse, i cant imagine he’d enjoy hitting his partner or making them cry (even if it is consensual). in the show, he's very overtly gentle, especially with the people he loves.

i also dont think he’d enjoy a big age gap relationship with a subordinate either (i also see this being floated around). my man is a stickler for the rules and if theres a fraternization policy, i doubt he’d break it. im aware i sound like a massive hypocrite bc i ship him w the team but im mainly talking about x reader pairings here.

i was actually gonna put a different headcanon here but i saw a stepdad!hotch x reader fic and i,,, just,,, no. again write whatever you want but he Would Not Fucking Do That lmao.

One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon.

PISSED BEYOND BELIEF WE NEVER GOT AN “AARON” EPISODE

i guess 100 was kind of in the same vein but Reid got both “Revelations” and “Spencer” so i think we deserved an “Aaron”

for the love of god expand on his backstory. he was sent off to boarding school, he was a lawyer, a federal prosecutor, he was on SWAT, he's an accomplished sniper, he was with the BAU for something like 8 years before the show started i think. where is he finding the time for this?

[echo-lover]

Why are you watching this, it's for kids. Focus on life, find yourself a partner, have your own family. You are an adult. Grow up.

You don't understand it. This is not just a series...

This series gives me a chance to feel like a kid again. I find comfort, safety and care in the arms of characters who mean the world to me. I experience each of their moments of sadness, each of their smallest joys, as if they were my own. This is my home, my safe space. I love them with all my heart. Thank you Star-Wars for my beautiful family.

I love Wrecker because he always managed to put a smile back on my face, even when I was having the worst day ever. His cheerful personality makes it impossible not to like him. Sometimes he is just a child, trapped in a large man's body. Behind all this muscles and enormous strength that can easily hurt you, there is a soft heart made of gold. He can be gentle, soft, even quiet if he has to. He would do absolutely everything for his family. He is also way more intelligent than he might think. The way he takes care of Omega melts my heart every time. Kids love him and he loves kids.

I love Tech because he can quickly adapt to situations. His voice is so special... I could listen to him for hours and never get tired of his facts about everything he saw and heard on his missions. He showed me that being smart is not something I should be ashamed of. His voice is calming, gives me comfort... I love his little jokes and moments where he was just a little savage in conversations. Even though he processes moments and thoughts differently, he is still able to share his own feelings with Omega. She helped him open up and show the part of himself that he kept closed from the world, even from himself. He loved his family so much that he sacrificed himself for their safety, paying the biggest price. He is worth every tear I shed for him (and there were so many).

I love Echo because I see a part of myself in him. He has been with me from the very beginning of my journey with Clones, and is one of the most important characters for me. I relate to him for many personal reasons. Even though he has experienced so much evil in his life, he is still able to be gentle, caring and show love to those who were closest to him. I especially love his bond with Omega, they both understand each other through their traumas, and way more. Omega quickly became the most important to Echo, but he couldn't give up on fighting, even for her. He felt that he has to somehow compensate for all the lost years when he was a prisoner on SkakoMinor. His honor, loyalty and courage inspire me every day. And his tenderness and softness touch my soul deeply. I could talk about him for hours and never get bored. I wish I'd be able to give him the biggest and warmest hug, and tell him how important he is to me.

I love Crosshair because he's the type of character I could easily hate, but I don't. In fact Cross is very close to my heart, I feel sorry for him and I want to help him get back to his old self. He is so much more than what the Empire has done to him. This sniper who never misses, who doesn't have to use his muscles to hurt - words are enough for him - silent, yet sharp. Precise, accurate, always on point. Confident, knowing his skills. Painfully honest, but needing to prove his worth to others at the same time. I know there is this soft side of him, hidden, but it is there for sure. The side that loves his brothers and little sister more than his own life. He need some time to understand that he is worth all the love in the Galaxy and I hope that Omega will help him to realize, that his brothers never really left him. They would take him back, if he just wanted...

I love Hunter because he makes me feel safe. I can't put it into words, but he's a character that reminds me of home... a loved one that I lost some time ago. He is so much like my dad at some point and his bond with Omega is so special for me. I know he's not perfect, he makes mistakes just like everyone else, but he always wants to do the right thing. He is a leader, not the one that only gives orders, but he is more like the head of the family who protect them - a father. He always puts his family first and is willing to do anything for them. For any of them, including Crosshair. He often doesn't give direct orders, just suggestions. His squad is not just soldiers, but they are his brothers, his closest family. His priorities changed when Omega appeared in his life - a child in need of a family, who trusted him and gave him love that he had never received before. From a soldier, he became a father, who would give everything for his daughter's safety and joy. His relationship with Omega is the most important to me. I loved him from the first moment and I could talk about him for hours, just like about Echo. I will always defend him. No matter what.

I love Omega because she took the best parts of each of her brothers. She is fearless, brave, strong and ready to defend her family until the very end. She's just a sweet little girl who can't have a normal childhood. She's different, just like her brothers, and she's so proud of it. She is not afraid to show her individuality. But even though she is strong and brave, she is still just a child. She needs love, protection... family... and Bad Batch gave it to her... a home, a safe place, loving brothers... Words cannot describe how important she is to me. Now she has changed so much, she is no longer this little Omega from first season... I think she becomes so much like Hunter.

[weirdmorefics]

My Birdy Took Flight

A/N- I am aware I really need to write my asks and my Spencer Reid story but I am currently obsessed with Simon Riley okay!

Simon Riley x Sniper Reader

Readers pronouns- She/her

TW- Swearing, falling, injuries, and military inaccuracies but I mean it's COD and they have a zombie game so are going to attack them too? lol

Summary- Who knew the complete off-the-books mission would go off the rails and leave you with the worst rope burns of your life. The injuries however were not the scary part it was having to face Ghost and admit you fell out of the heli.

Word Count- 1991

This mission was completely off the books, asshole Shephard did not care at all that Kate had been taken hostage and would not send reinforcements for help. I've been working with Price and Kate since I was a recruit they are my family. There was no way I was leaving Kate to be killed. The plan was simple enough I stayed in the heli for overwatch while Price, Gaz, and Farah worked their way up the line. Things were going smoothly I've worked with Nik before he is one hell of a pilot. Things however took a turn for the worse an explosive hit the copter and I fucking fell out. I'm sure Nik and Captian thought I died for a moment but I was bloody hanging from the rope. I am lucky my sniper skills are still top-notch when I'm hanging upside down though I would prefer not to test it again. After that hiccup, we recovered Kate and she luckily had no physical injuries.

We returned to base that night and Price insisted I go to the med bay to get checked out. To quote his words, "You look like shit kid, get the hell to med bay before I drag you myself."

The medic rushed to treat me, but something told me that was Price's doing. They wanted to keep me here for observation due to my concussion from the explosion impact. I begged them not to I'd sleep way better in the barracks I hate the sanitary hospital smell, I even prefer the smell of gunpowder. The medic would not take no for an answer I wanted to fight them harder but they said they preferred my anger to Price's wrath. The medic left shortly after and would return sporadically to do random vital checks. At least I knew the concussion wasn't that bad as it didn't beckon me toward the darkness like other times. Though my raw skin kept me from finding any peace I honestly kind of miss the darkness. I spent the night tossing and turning the pain and clinical setting keeping sleep a far distance away from me.

The clock ticking was mocking me as I watched it hit four am. How are hospital settings supposed to help you heal when there is so much beeping and someone always coming into your room? Speaking of which I heard the door creak yet again didn't they just take my vitals ten minutes ago! I can't take this without thinking I launch the flat uncomfortable pillow at what I assumed would be the intern medic yet again only to lock eyes with Ghost looking as shocked as I did.

"That's one hell of a greeting darling," he says in his usual deep voice. My eyes are still wide with shock that I just hit my superior with a pillow but he takes this opportunity to speak again. "Heard you took flight today, Gaz was telling everyone."

I wince at the thought of everyone knowing I failed to hold on during the explosion and try to change the subject to avoid thinking about it, "Aren't you supposed to be on a mission with Soap?"

"Just got back. Johnny and Gaz are out celebrating," he responds.

"They are out celebrating at four am?" I question.

"You know Johnny no one can outdrink the Scott," he says like it's the most obvious thing the world.

"Well, why aren't you out there celebrating with them?"

"My birdy took flight and thought it only decent to check up on her," any other time I would have dwelled on the fact that he said 'my birdy' but he placed his hand on my welted ankle and I could not suppress the groan. His eyes quickly shift to concern and he rips the scratchy hospital blanket off me.

"Ghost!" I shout at him for having the audacity to rip the blanket off me. He has no right to barge in here and act like he's in charge, he may be the boss of me in the field but he is not my doctor and I do not care for showing off my nasty ass wounds to my team members.

He does not acknowledge my shout at him in the slightest instead his full attention is on my rope-burned ankles."What quack treated this," he growled.

"I'm fine," I try to yank my foot out of his grasp but he holds tighter.

"Yeah because the skin falling off your ankle looks spectacular," he says sarcastically.

"Wow you sure know how to treat a girl," I roll my eyes.

"Haven't heard any complaints," he says nonchalantly as if that innuendo wouldn't have Soap applauding.

"Seriously, it's fine. Go celebrate with the team," I assure.

"If you think I am letting you let your ankle get infected you are off your rocker. I am going to need names, sweetheart," he commands.

The nickname glides out of his mouth so easily it's as if he had said it a hundred times. I want to stay as calm and collected as him but I unfortunately stutter, "What names?" God, it's a good thing I'm a sniper and not a spy because I would be dead.

"Of the idiot docs who treated this," he speaks as if it's obvious.

I sigh, "It's not their fault... I didn't tell them. Price only knew about the concussion and I just wanted to get out of here as soon as possible."

"Ah so you're the idiot," he growls.

"Can you not be mean to me I did just fall out of a heli."

"Shut up you lived," he rolls his eyes, gently places my foot down, and turns to leave.

"Please don't take your anger out on the medics," I beg.

"Oh trust me darling I will be taking my anger out on you," he growls yet again.

I shiver, "Where are you going then?"

"To get some medical supplies for your dumbass. No one way I'm letting a medic treat you when you will just lie to them."

"What makes you think I won't lie to you?" I tease well aware that I am in no place to be teasing.

He chuckles an evil kind still it's one of the best I've heard, "Me and you both know you aren't capable of it."

He exits the room and I am unsure if I want to slap him or rip that mask off and kiss him... I am definitely incapable of either. I may be able to beat Soap, Gaz, and even Price on the mat but no one can best Ghost. I, unfortunately, hear him shouting at medics for a damn first aid kit... so much for him taking out his anger on me.

He returns rather quickly but does not speak as he meticulously places the first aid supplies by my bedside.

He pours some alcohol on my rope burn and I hiss loudly, "shit a little warning would be nice."

"You would have just fought harder. Need to clean the debris out who fuckin knows how old that rope was."

"Aw is Ghosty worried about me," I pout.

"Thought I told you and Johnny to stop calling me that, you want me to make this hurt worse than it already does?"

I roll my eyes at him and in response, he presses the gauze harder than necessary. "You asshole!"

"I have no idea what you're talking about," I can see his wicked smile through his balaclava.

"Yeah sure," I huff. "You know..." I smile mischievously. "This would go a lot faster if you just kissed it better."

"Oh really," I could hear the grin in his voice. I was expecting him to make some snide comment in return instead he finishes wrapping my ankle and lifts his mask to rest on the bridge of his nose.

I am sure my eyes widen to the size of saucers. I feel like a Victorian man seeing a woman's ankle. His grin widens it could only be compared to the Cheshire cat's smile. He gently lifts my ankle to his lips but does not stop there. He places delicate kisses all the way up to my thigh. I think I have officially stopped breathing. Then my heart decides to do the most embarrassing thing ever. It speeds up so atrociously fast that the monitors start beeping incredibly loud. That's it I have officially died there is no coming back my face is melting off from how flushed I am.

Ghost sits back and laughs and I mean properly laughs, I have never seen him like this. "This is a good look on you birdy all red and flustered, all for me too." He pulls his mask back down but I can still see the smile in his eyes.

"Shut up! I am a highly trained sought-after sniper, I don't get flustered!" I feel like that would have sounded better if I didn't stutter each word.

Ghost glances at my heart rate monitor, "Your heart says otherwise."

A medic comes in as the dumb machine won't stop beating, "Are you alright? You're looking quite flushed and your blood pressure is higher than it was when you first came in."

I swear I could see the smugness radiating off Ghost. God I want to strangle him.

"She's fine thanks to me," his eyes squint at me and I know he has a huge grin under that balaclava. He then turns to the medic, "Don't you know the 141 are notorious liars and the worst patients! Next time call me down here as soon as she is being treated."

The poor medic flinches at Ghost's rough voice and can barely whisper, "Yes, sir"

I mouth, 'I'm so sorry," to the medic he looks appreciative.

The medic flees as soon as my blood pressure normalizes. Ghost roughly throws his body onto the uncomfortable hospital chair and groans.

"What are you doing? Shouldn't you be going back to the barracks," I glance as he makes himself comfortable well as comfortable as one can be in a torn hospital chair.

"In a rush to get rid of me birdy?"

"Is that name going to become a thing," I roll my eyes.

"Only for me, if anyone else has the nerve to call you that I'll gut them," he replies.

"Even Johnny?"

"Especially Johnny," He grins.

I smile, "Seriously Ghost you should go sleep in your own bed that chair cannot be comfortable. I'd be in my bed if they would let me escape."

"I know you can't stand hospitals, I won't let you be sleepless and cranky alone."

"Fine, then at least share the bed with me, I forbid you from sleeping on that fifty-year-old chair."

"The fact that you think you can forbid me from doing anything sweetheart is laughable. Are you sure you want me to be over there might make your heart monitor scream again?" He makes his way over to the bed despite his words.

I roll my eyes, "I'll manage."

He lays on the small hospital bed and takes up ninety percent of it but I don't mind it because it doesn't smell like hand sanitizer and blood anymore it smells like him.

"Goodnight birdy," he kisses the top of my head and my heartrate monitor instantly starts beeping annoyingly again.

"Goddammit," I groan and he just laughs.

"You would make a terrible spy with all those emotions, you're lucky the red face works on you." he chuckles.

"You're just jealous of my amazing sniping abilities you must point out my flaws," I poke his chest.

"You ain't got no flaws birdy except the fact that you're stubborn as hell. Now go to sleep before I knock you out myself."

"Yes LT.," I fake salute him and he rolls his eyes.

Sleep comes so much faster in the med bay when you aren't alone, I wish falling asleep would always be this easy.

[kybercrystals94]

Letting Go

Read here on Ao3

Summer of Bad Batch 2024 | Week 6 | Battle Scars

Rated: G | Words: 903 | Summary: Story takes place just before Omega leaves to join the Rebellion.

Crosshair sits down next to Hunter on the sand. “Omega told me what happened.”

“I’m sure she did,” Hunter says. It comes out harsher than he means it to, but he does not try to take it back. It seems that age has worn down the barriers of his emotions, bitterness and hurt leaking through.

“She said you were being unreasonable, overbearing, and overprotective,” Crosshair continues. “Not to mention your listening skills need some work, because you only care about your side of the argument.”

Hunter’s frown deepens. “Good to know.”

“And I said,” Crosshair goes on, as though Hunter hadn’t spoken, “the same thing I said way back when she was only about this big.” He holds out a hand to demonstrate.

Hunter rolls his eyes, because they never knew Omega when she was that small, but he gets the point.

“Aren’t you going to ask me what I said?”

Hunter sighs. He’s too tired to play this game. “What did you say?”

“Don’t hold it against him. He’s only worried about you.”

Hunter turns to look at Crosshair, surprised. “When did you tell her that?”

“When we were going to Barton IV,” Crosshair replies, digging a toothpick out of his pocket. He puts it between his teeth. “That kid’s always trying to prove herself, isn’t she? That she’s one of us.”

“She is one of us,” Hunter argues.

Crosshair huffs. “Of course she is, but she’s not a soldier, Hunter. She’s our kid, not our brother in arms. I don’t think she’s ever figured out the difference.”

“So she wants to join the Rebellion because she wants to prove herself as a soldier?”

“Not entirely, although I think that is part of it,” Crosshair says.

“And the other part?” Hunter asks.

Crosshair meets his eye. “She might not be a soldier, but she is a fighter. We raised her that way, didn’t we? To stand up for the defenseless, to do what’s right?”

“That’s not…” Hunter stops because his voice gives out, barbed anguish ensnared deep in his throat. He tries to swallow it away, but it is unyielding, so his voice cracks and breaks around it. “That’s not what I want for her. I want her to be safe. I want her to be here.”

A younger Crosshair might have looked away, trying to comfort from arm’s length. But just as time has made carefully constructed emotional walls brittle, time has softened the sharp edges of his brother. The former sniper moves closer, knocking their shoulders together. “I’m scared to lose her too.”

“We fought so hard to get away from war,” Hunter says brokenly, “to get Omega away from war. And she wants to throw herself into another.”

“I don’t want her to go,” Crosshair says. “But I think she’s already made up her mind. I don’t know where she gets her stubbornness from. Certainly not from me.”

Hunter chokes on the laugh that bubbles up through the mire of sorrow. “Hate to break it to you, Cross, but you’ve got a stubborn streak a hundred klicks wide.”

“Do I?” Crosshair muses, and Hunter glances at him in time to see a grin twitch his lips in the moonlight. “Because she reminds me an awful lot of you.”

“I see a little bit of all of us in her,” Hunter admits, “and yet she is still something all her own.”

Crosshair hums in agreement.

“What if she loses that?” Hunter asks. “What if joining the Rebellion steals that spark she’s always had? We changed so much from the time we were cadets and then soldiers. We didn’t have a choice. But Omega does. She doesn’t have to face the horrors we did, experience the pain and suffering. She’s safe here. Why can’t that be enough for her?”

“Omega already has battle scars, Hunter,” Crosshair says. “You think she went unscathed living the life she did before Pabu? The kid’s tougher than she looks.”

“I never said I didn’t think she could handle it,” Hunter argues, “She just shouldn’t have to.”

“She doesn’t have to,” Crosshair says. “She wants to. Whether we like it or not, she’s a grown woman. She needs to make her own decisions. She needs to have her own cause, her own life. She won’t have us forever!”

That last sentence is like a blaster bolt to the heart, a burning, white hot sensation that drives the breath from Hunter’s lungs. But he takes the pain and shoves it deep, turning his grieved anger on Crosshair instead. “So you want her to go. You’re encouraging her.”

“You know that’s not true,” Crosshair bites out, and Hunter can hear the effort his brother puts into controlling his own, retaliating anger. “But it’s not up to us. That’s what I’m trying to tell you. We have to let go.”

Bruised silence solidifies between them, and Hunter can’t find it in himself to disturb it. He should apologize, should appreciate Crosshair’s attempt at playing the mediator in spite of his own feelings on the matter. Why does Hunter feel at odds with every sibling, no matter where they stand on the issue?

“You’re stronger than I am,” Hunter mutters at last. “Omega can just talk to you about it…but with me, it’s a fight. Why?”

Crosshair sighs. “Because she doesn’t want my blessing, Hunter. She wants yours.”

And the last of Hunter’s brittle, emotional barrier crumbles completely.

END

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[freesia-writes]

hello friend, for the valentines rec - would you be interested in doing a fake dating/relationship situation b/w Crosshair and f!reader? go wild with why they have to fake date 😂

thankssss ❤️HB

THE CROSSHAIR EFFECT got me on this one! 😂 Sometimes when I write him, I just get absolutely sucked in. So this one had me in a mood and I quite enjoyed it. It's a little stereotypical or trope-y or something, but it's delightfully indulgent in my doofus opinion. So I hope you enjoy! 😊 Dividers by @stars-n-spice on this post here.

Crosshair x F!Reader Word Count: 2000ish, hehe Content Warnings: just kissin and in-universe cussin

OH, and since this takes place at a fancy gala, I have to link this gorgeous fanart by @perfectlywingedcrusade because it's just fitting and should be appreciated by everyone. They're lovely images of Crosshair and her OC, so check em out!

A kiss on the hand and a cup of the face

Holding each other close in fancy attire

Out for a stroll while lookin good

The grand gala was in full swing, the opulent castle venue aglow with soft, golden light and the murmur of animated conversations. You and Crosshair, disguised as a wealthy couple, moved gracefully through the crowd, your steps synchronized as you navigated the sea of elegantly dressed guests. The stoic sniper's presence beside you was palpable, his every movement calculated and precise. His sharp gaze swept over the room, taking in every detail with a keen eye for potential threats. Despite the formal attire he wore, there was an unmistakable air of danger about him, a reminder of the skilled soldier lurking beneath the facade of a sophisticated gentleman. And it kinda gave you the tingles.

As you exchanged pleasantries with other guests, your mind raced with the mission at hand. The two of you had been tasked with infiltrating the gala to gather intel on a new weapon being developed by the Separatists. It was a high-stakes operation, and the success of the mission relied on your ability to blend in seamlessly with the crowd while discreetly gathering information.

You stole a glance at him, marveling at the effortless way he maintained his cover. His demeanor was cool and collected, his expression unreadable as he engaged in polite conversation with the other guests. You marveled at his ability to remain composed under pressure, and if you were being honest, you’d admired him for a long time, and had given in to an increasing amount of time spent thinking about being with him in various scenarios. So when this mission had come up in such a way that required you to pretend you were in a relationship, you’d had to fight hard to keep your face neutral and even harder to ignore the pronounced eyeroll and scoff of disgust he’d made.

You were still trying to push the thought from your mind as you leaned against the bar, having split up to different parts of the room. You could swear there had been some significant moments between the two of you, conversations that showed some vulnerability, slight softening in his piercing glares… But sometimes you wondered if the entire dynamic was just wishful thinking on your part. 

“Haven’t seen you around here before,” a fellow attendee said, sidling up beside you at the bar. You gave a small smile and a nod, just enough to acknowledge him without being memorable in any way, hoping he would take the hint. 

He didn’t.

“Where are you from?” he pressed, stepping slightly closer and holding up two fingers to the bartender, who had waved to him for his order. “I feel like I’d remember a beautiful thing like you.” You had your selection of default answers, offering some uninteresting and vague information, but he was a bona fide hemorrhoid, weaseling ever closer both verbally and physically. 

“I feel like you’re not being entirely honest with me,” he purred, tilting his head and reaching to trace fingers along your arm. 

“I’m not sure I want to tell all my secrets to someone I just met,” you replied, matching his suggestive energy to avoid triggering any toxic masculinity. You gave him a small smile, but it was met with a furrowed brow that made you start to feel a little anxious at how to get out of this particular situation. 

Right on cue, however, Crosshair stepped in, his arm sliding around your waist as he pulled you close. Your heart skipped a beat as you glanced up at him, face relaxing into content familiarity. 

"Darling, there you are," he said smoothly, flashing the intruder a charming smile. The honey-sweet words in his sibilant, smoky tone were absolutely intoxicating, and you silently cursed the flush that bloomed across your cheeks without your permission. "I've been looking all over for you." 

The guest faltered, taken aback by Crosshair's sudden appearance, and when the sniper turned to face him fully, positively exuding confidence, he excused himself with a polite nod.

"Thanks," you murmured, grateful for the diversion.

"Don't mention it," he replied, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer than necessary. "We have to be convincing, don’t we…”

“Sorry you got stuck doing this with me.” You felt a wave of frustration wash over you, beginning to feel tired of the way he seemed to jerk you back and forth between softness and harshness, fondness and disdain. You wished he would just come clean one way or the other.

“A mission’s a mission.”

“Mhm,” you agreed, feeling your mood souring by the second.

“Problem?” he asked quietly, forcing the fakest smile you’d ever seen as a couple passed by and fluttered their fans in your direction. It made you want to punch him. 

“Nope. Just… On a mission.” You pulled your fur more tightly around you, scanning the room for the targets who were supposed to have the inside info. You’d had yet to locate them, despite schmoozing for the last hour or two. You didn’t notice the way his eyes followed the flow of your hair into a regal bun at the nape of your neck, nor the way they continued back up across your face, unreadable emotion flickering just beneath the surface. 

“Oh, Chris, you’re hilarious,” you proclaimed, in the snooty voice you’d adopted around others. You could tell it grated on Crosshair’s nerves, and you couldn’t help the smug sense of satisfaction you felt when his steely gaze met yours for a moment in the privacy of a quick sideways look. You knew there’d be hell to pay later for randomly giving him a name like that, but you didn’t care. Your feet were aching and you’d been done with all the fake socializing about an hour and a half ago. But the two of you had finally worked your way into the “inner circle of sleemos”, as your partner had deemed them, and now were the critical moments upon which the entire mission hinged. 

“Not nearly as delightful as you, my little poodoo,” he answered, earning a round of gasps and chuckles from the uppity crowd. 

“I say!” declared a man with a huge space-walrus mustache. “That is quite the nickname, my good boy!” He chuffed heartily, casting a side glance at his tall, spiky wife who clearly didn’t approve. Quickly changing his demeanor, he was shaking his head in somber disapproval by the time he looked back at you. 

“Oh, we’re just so… so close…” Crosshair continued, almost choking on his words as he looped an arm around your waist again and pulled you against him so abruptly that a little bit of your drink sloshed out of the glowing martini glass. You quickly turned your splutter of indignation into a playful giggle, not so subtly digging an elbow between his ribs as best you could. “I could just call her every name in the book,” he gushed, poking the tip of your nose with a single finger. 

“Oh goodness,” you laughed, downing the rest of your drink in one huge gulp. “Would you excuse us? And can I get anyone else another drink?” You turned away so quickly, grabbing your partner by the arm and dragging him along, that you didn’t see Mr. Walrus Stache lifting a finger to take you up on that drink offer. Instead, you did your best to hide the absolute rage you felt beneath the surface as you found a side door out onto a small balcony. There was a single member of the waitstaff there, a Rhodian who was taking a drag off a long cigarette, and his luminous eyes narrowed at the two of you as you appeared, flicking the ash off the end of his smoke and dropping it to the ground before stalking back to work. 

“What’s gotten into you?” Crosshair began, turning on you as soon as the last tails of the server’s apron were out of sight. You looked up at him, too frustrated to enjoy how close he was as he loomed above you furiously. “We finally get--”

“ME?!” you spluttered, grasping the shiny lapels of his suit jacket, “You think we’re gonna get anywhere with you calling me poodoo?!” In any other context, the sheer ridiculousness of the situation would have been hilarious, but the simmering undercurrent had risen to a rollicking boil, and his eyes narrowed dangerously. 

“Well if you weren’t acting like such a little shi--”

“You’re ridiculous!” you yelled, fists clenched at your sides. But before you could finish the rest of your retort, his hand was clapped over your mouth, cutting off any further attempts to lash out at him. It did not, however, help to quell the fury within. You grabbed his arm with both hands, pulling at it in futility, then froze completely as he stepped in close, wedging a thigh between your legs and flattening you against the stone wall of the castle with his entire body. “What the f--”

“Just shut up for one second,” he hissed, and the sheer intensity of his presence combined with the exhilaration of him pressed against you took every last thought and word right out of your brain. You let out a breath, heart pounding against his chest where he’d bent himself around you, eyes large as they locked on his. He slowly removed his hand, wiping it on his pants with a slight wrinkle of the nose, then tucked it into his pocket, leaving the other arm braced on the wall above you. “Listen,” he said, quietly now, with an urgency yet softness that melted you to your core. “Whatever… this… is…” He took a deep breath, then continued, “We need to get that intel. Then you can… take care of yourself…” He finished with a tiny, confident nod, stepping back in surprise when you burst into laughter.

“Take care of myself?” You slapped your hands flat on his chest, pushing him away with playful force as you felt yourself puffing up again to put him in his place. “Crosshair, you don’t have a damn clue, do you…” You ran out of steam as you registered the myriad of emotions on his face, slowly falling silent as he closed the distance between the two of you again, emanating a different kind of energy this time. 

“Care to enlighten me, then?” he asked, tilting his head at you with equal parts condescension and provocation. There was a smolder in his pale brown eyes that made your heart skip a beat, and you were so overrun with feelings of your own that you couldn’t even begin to sort out one from another. You reached for his lapels again, now using them to pull him back against you as you brought your mouth to his with a forceful, determined kiss. His tiny huff of an exhale had a million possible meanings, but you didn’t care, because one of his hands found your waist and the other cupped the back of your head, pressing his face into yours with a hunger that set your… heart… on fire. 

You lost track of everything else as your senses were flooded with every magnificent aspect of him… His scent, touched up with a ritzy fragrance he’d added for the evening… His slightly raspy breathing… The warmth and passion that radiated from his strong, focused frame. The feeling of his mouth on yours was everything you’d imagined it to be, and he pulled back for a short breath of air before turning his head the other direction and capturing your lips again, slightly more open this time as you melted against him.

It felt like a split second and an hour later when you separated, with deep, ragged breaths and a blissfully dumbfounded look on your face, staring at him in awe and unabashed delight. He kept his face stoic, though there was a slight glow to his cheeks and a spark in his eyes that made your knees weak. 

“Now can you keep your head on straight?” he poked, stepping back and straightening his suit. 

“Absolutely not.”

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[shinekocreator]

It seems the Nimona fandom has decided that Ballister is god and the best at everything, and I'm here to fix that, so here's a list of things I think Ambrosius would be better at than (or on the same level as) Ballister (this is about the movie versions, feel free to add your own or argue in the reblogs):

Cooking 🍳: after he saw Ballister cooking for himself for the first time, Ambrosius took interest (it was also a major reality check for him. He started learning on his own and took some classes, primarily because he wanted to impress Ballister and feel like he was good enough for him. On their first date, Ambrosius took Ballister on a picnic, all the food was made by Ambrosius himself. He also partially learned how to cook BC of his allergy.

Socialising: he hates it, but he can do it, with Bal it's a problem of anxiety, with Amb it's a problem of will.

Botany 🌿, zoology 🐺, and psychology🧠: Bal has a better grip in biology, chemistry, maths, engineering, and physics, but when it comes to behaviour patterns, Amb is better (botany is because it's something Amb is extremely passionate about)

Which brings us to gardening 🧑‍🌾: partly because I want to believe that Amb still has some similarities to his comic counterpart.

Long range combat: Bal has hand to hand and short range combat in the bag, but in long range combat Ambrosius is better (he underperformed in some of his tests on purpose so they couldn't kick Ballister out)(that's also why they're the dream team). He's also better with long range weapons (archery and sniper guns)

Reading 📗: Bal and Amb have about the same level of reading comprehension, but Ambrosius can read slightly faster.

Kids 🧒: Amb and Bal have the same level of skill in handling kids, but when it comes to levels of popularity, the closer to the outskirts you are, the more popular Bal is and vice versa, the closer you are to the central city, the more popular Ambrosius is.

Dancing 💃: when it comes to the club, they have roughly the same dancing skills, but Amb isn't as shy, when it comes to partner dancing (ballroom and Latin) Amb is better.

Walk in heels 👠: Bal can do this, but still struggles a little when it's 4 inch heels or longer, Amb can handle high heels without even the slightest bit of a struggle.

Diplomacy: Bal has the ideas, Ambrosius does the talking.

Social media: I think this one is self explanatory, Ambrosius has a better hang on how social media works.

Humour 😂: Ambrosius is deemed objectively funnier because his humour is adaptive (his entire personality was perfectly curated to appeal to as many people as possible).

Now for the less safe for work

Drinking 🍸: I wanna believe Amb is slightly better at holding his alcohol, just because.

Kissing 💋: Amb is slightly more experienced, and communicative, while Bal is still learning what he prefers.

Bedroom 🛏️: see above mention. Bal and Amb were each other's first time, but Amb is better at communicating and is more flexible (he can switch positions easily, set the mood, dirty talk, dominate, submit, etc)