#you should totally comm them

[h3llraz0rr]

GUYS I GOT ANOTHER AWESOME COMM FROM OOMF!!! @unokonei PLS PLS PLS GO SUPPORT THEM!!! THEIR ART IS SO LOVELY AND THEY ARE SUPER DUPER AWESOME RAHHHH!!

HERE'S THEIR COMM INFO! You can DM them for more info/for their PayPal and you can also donate to this charity linked below to receive a drawing!

https://savelife.in.ua/en/?fbclid=PAZXh0bgNhZW0CMTEAAaa6D8tpTtYJMp4f2juSFR037ncMSS8-xuqdKFFuEf5CRtdn2UQrlqIXXKE_aem_AYjmgxi6ADbHq2-sr-IJVJV9YfGckdNctQWkq5kgghmOD9B9funUZVOkK_QaaAW8maVlQ3Z37UUphRJ5zYoBZv-E

[h3llraz0rr]

YOU GUYS SHOULD TOTALLY COMM MY AWESOME MOOT AND SUPPORT THEM >:)

Info about my commissions!

I mostly will do anything but better ask directly

no proship stuff(get out of my page)

Also i can sketch you pretty much anything for any donation.

Don't be afraid to DM me for any questions you may have. My favorite color is green if that's your question tho.

[auspicioustidings]

You hate the 141 pack. Fucking alpha hole wankers who think they're better than everyone else. You've hated them since you were a damn rookie and they looked down on you during training. Yeah you're smaller as an omega, but you're also quicker, have keener senses.

The bitterness goes both ways. You and them do not get along, there have been several attempts to get each other into trouble and it's well known that any op you are on with them comms will be a disaster.

Now the military puts everyone on industrial grade scent suppressants, obviously. Which means it comes as a fucking surprise when you and Ghost run across one another on leave and discover you're fucking scent matches. Obviously the rest of the team can never know, the two of you need to pretend this never happened.

Should be totally doable not giving away that you know he smells like sex on a stick and your omega now craves his cock like nothing else, is now whining to know what the rest of your scent matches smell like. Should be easy for him to explain away to his pack why they are getting feral lust from the pack bond anytime you walk into the room.

Yeah, totally doable and easy. Everything will be fine.

[obsessivevoidkitten]

Sweetest Nectar

Yandere Sundew Plant Man x Gender Neutral Luna Moth Fae Reader CW: Noncon, no pain, drugging, aphrodisiac nectar, lured in, bondage, reader done gets violated by the tentacles, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, reader rides that dick like a cowboy, making out, french kissing, general yandere behavior, seed oviposition Word Count: 1.4k (Comm I got late last night. Wrote half before 5am this morning and the rest tonight. The name Lasio comes from the sundew subgenus Lasiocephala. Hope you all enjoy <3)

The only sound you could hear was that of the wind as it whooshed by while you fluttered without a care in the world through the purple sky. Partly cloudy, a nice breeze, no bothersome humans in this realm at all. A lovely summer evening in the realm of the fairies.

You were a luna moth type fairy. Your large pale jade wings and antenna serving as a dead give away. Not that it mattered when you were away from the land of the humans. When you were on Earth you could easily disguise yourself though, so it was never a problem. But here you were totally free to be as nature intended.

You flitted between the great flowers, many as great as trees, collecting various types of nectar to feed on later. You went at this task for a couple hours before deciding to feed on your spoils in a nice clearing near the crystal creek.

After a nice day fluttering all about it was nice to sit down and begin to relax. You sipped from one of your many vials of nectar and enjoyed the birdsong all around you. It was so peaceful here. A true paradise. You tried to spend as much time as possible here, avoiding the human world as much as possible.

With a heavy sigh you willed yourself up and readied yourself to collect more nectar and maybe some pollen for tomorrow. It took much to sustain you. It seemed you were in luck. As the wind shifted, before you even took to the sky, you caught the alluring scent of nectar.

It was the most alluring floral scent you had ever experienced, there was probably quite a lot of fresh high quality nectar. Your antennae were twitching like crazy and even though you had just had a snack you had to wipe away drool from your mouth because you were salivating so intensely.

You leapt up and began flying towards the wondrous aroma at once.

It didn’t take long for you to find it. A long vine with lovely red globules of nectar. You tried to collect one but found that they were quite a bit sticky. Terrifyingly sticky… no matter what you did you couldn’t get free. What’s more you found yourself wrapped in the vine the more you struggled.

Soon you found yourself covered in the sticky goop, its heady aroma practically drowning you. Your head grew dizzy as a heat pooled in your crotch.

Just what was this stuff?

You were stuck for a while longer and found yourself actually grinding into the sticky vine that held you, you knew you should be trying to think of a way to escape… but you were so horny… you needed to cum so bad. It was all you could think about. Your antenna vibrated with agitation at your inability to get yourself off in your current predicament, with your hands held uselessly at your sides.

Once you started to cry it became evident just what mess you had found yourself in exactly.

A man stepped out of the brush. A plant man with long sticky tentacles sprouting from his head and another mass of them branching out from his tail. They were green at the base, transitioned into a lemon yellow, and were tipped with the red globules you found yourself ensnared in.

Due to your drug-like effects of the sap you had been coated in you did not even realize the danger that you were in.

“Ah~ Pl-please help! I need help. Stuck.” You kept fidgeting. You needed to touch yourself so badly!! You couldn’t even put together that this man standing before you was the one who had trapped you in the first place.

“Of course cutie! I’m your new boyfriend, Lasio. And I wouldn’t be a very good boyfriend if I didn’t help you out~”

You did not even question what he had said, you were just too needy by that point.

At Lasio’s whim the sticky nectar became slick and slippery, but before you could get your hands to your aching crotch the vines of his tail wrapped around you tightly and drew you closer. You whimpered due to being denied the use of your hands but it quickly turned into a moan as the tip of one of the vines dipped into your pants and rubbed you thoroughly.

It pressed and massaged your entrance and you cried and begged for more. He was inclined to oblige you. The slippery appendage slid into deeply, coating your insides with the potent fluid that had already made you lose control.

You writhed and squirmed in pure sexual bliss, more stimulated than before.

But Lasio didn’t stop there, he brought your squirming form close and stilled you with a touch, his hands holding your head steady as he kissed you deeply. His tongue slipped past your lips and caressed your tongue before exploring your mouth. It was dripping with the same sweet substance that had covered your body and been deposited into your hole.

You sucked at it eagerly as you moaned softly. You absolutely couldn’t get enough.

When Lasio withdrew his tentacle like vine from you you were ready to cry in protest. It left you so empty and hollow. So needy to be filled up. Then you saw why he had removed himself from you. His cock was fully erect. It was bright yellow with a sweet looking bead of amber nectar dribbling out.

There was nothing you wanted more in this world than to be plowed by your brand new boyfriend. And there was nothing in the world that Lasio wanted more than to sink his cock into you and fill you with his seeds.

Lasio sat down on a soft patch of grass. He grabbed you gently with one of his tails and guided you over to him then pulled you down into his lap.

You understood what he needed and sat down on his cock, your well lubed hole taking him just as perfectly as his cock filled that void in you. You steadied yourself with your hands on his muscular green pecs. Your antenna twitched and lightly touched him as he grabbed your hips in his strong hands.

The sensation was indescribable as you moved yourself up and down on his prick, riding him and doing most of the work in your desperation for release. With a dazed and far away look you stared at him but you weren’t really paying much attention to anything other than the physical sensation of impaling yourself on his dick.

Lasio pulled you close and nipped at your lip gently then pressed his lips against your passionately. Reveling in the feel of your soft lips against his had him almost as intoxicated as you were.

You rode his cock until you were simply too spent to keep moving. You had already cum several mind shattering times by that point but even in your exhaustion you were no less desperate to continue making love with your wonderful partner.

“You’ve done so well for me, let me take over now my sweet moth.”

Lasio, priding himself on being the very best boyfriend ever, would never deprive you of your needs. He grasped your ass firmly and thrust into you over and over. You melted into his chest, body pressed against his with your face nestled comfortably into his neck as he thrust into you. This entire time he hadn’t yet came but he was getting close, his movements gradually became fast and sloppy as he chased his own release.

He grunted and his spasming cock flooded you with more than just semen but also many small literal seeds. The feeling of his dick twitching inside you made you squeal before going limp against him. Finally you felt sated as you wrapped your arms around Lasio and kissed him lovingly.

“Mmm, I bet you’ll grow my seeds just as well as you took my cock~”

Of course you would! You’d happily bear your lover’s children. As many as he needed you to! For once an insectoid fae had tasted of the sundew man’s nectar and then got themselves seeded by him their love for one another would be eternal.

[maxillness]

So Pretty, And Just For Me || CL16 x Gf!reader

Warnings: 18+, unprotected sex, glasses!charles (he should be a warning himself 🤭), hair pulling, oral (M), google translate French, praise kink, sub!charles

Wordcount: 1.2k

She loved when Charles would stream. Not because he would spend time away from her, but because he would always walk into the living room afterwards with his glasses on

She would never admit it, but damn did he look fucking hot with glasses on. She would almost drool every time he had them on

Even with her long stares at him, he was totally oblivious to it

All she could think about when he has his glasses on was; how would he look while she fucked him with his glasses on?

One time, she couldn’t take it anymore and decided to act upon her thoughts

She bit her lip slightly when she walked into the living room, seeing Charles sitting with his phone in his hands

She quickly walked over to him, taking his phone out of his hands, throwing it to the side on the couch

He didn’t get to ask about her actions before she was seated in his lap and smashed their lips together

“Mmh… Baby. What are you doing?” He mumbled into her mouth as she started grinding down on him slowly

“Nothing. Can’t I just kiss my boyfriend?” She pulled her head back. Her hands tugged on his hair making him whimper and tilt his head upwards to get a better look at her

“You’re usually not like this” He said between rough kisses from the woman in his lap “I’m not complaining, but-“

“Then stop talking” He whimpered when she forced her tongue into his mouth

His hands traveled from her waist and down to her ass, palming her softly. She smirked into his mouth when she started feeling him harden under her

“Please, I need you” Charles whimpered as her lips trailed to his neck, sucking lightly at his skin

“I know you do” Her voice was confident as her hands sneaked under his shirt

One of his hands went to his face trying to remove his glasses before it got to heated, but her hand come up and slapped his away

“Keep them on” She spoke again before he could express his confusion “You look fucking hot with them on” She smirked when he whimpered at her words

He eventually nodded, agreeing on her request “Good. Thank you baby” She kissed his lips surprisingly soft

It was a struggle to get his shirt off because of his glasses, but it eventually got off. She got off of his lap, making him whine

She got to her knees in front of him. She hooked her fingers in the waistband of his sweats, pulling his boxers with it

He lifted his hips off of the couch so she could them all the way down. He whimpered at the way she kissed his inner thigh as he lifted his legs to get the sweats and boxers off

She scooted closer, in between his legs, making him part them more

He felt embarrassed like this; naked, exposed on their crazy expensive couch. They had never been intimate outside of the bedroom, so there was also a kind of excitement in his gut

She slowly started swirling her tongue around the tip of his cock, drawing out all the kind of filthy sounds she loved hearing

“Fuck. S'il te plaît, baby. Stop teasing” He bucked his hips up slightly, but it only resulted in her pulling away “No, no. I’m sorry. I need you, please”

He whimpered again as she started sucking lightly on the skin of his inner thighs. He threw his head back against the couch as her tongue grazed over the marks, easing the stinging sensation

He moaned loud when she got her mouth around the head of his cock again. She swirled her tongue a few times before she drove down, taking all of him into her mouth

“Fuck, yes, baby. Feels so good” His words were slurred as her head bobbed up and down his shaft “Yes, keep going, baby” He tried so hard not to buck his hips up into her mouth

“Tu es tellement chaud comme ça, bébé” She hummed at his words, making him moan in a high-pitched tone

“Fuck. Baby, I’m so close. Please, baby” His thighs were starting to shake while he twitched in her mouth

“s'il te plaît, je peux venir?” She hummed, giving him the permission to come deep down her throat

She swallowed it all, making sure nothing was slipping out of her mouth. She sat back, soothing and kissing his thighs as he came down from his orgasm

“You think you can give me one more, baby?” She asked kissing the inside of his thighs. A few seconds went by before he nodded with a low ‘yes’

“Good boy” She stood up, seeing the way he squirmed at the praise “Lay down on your back” She kissed him softly before he did what he was told

“tu es un si bon garçon pour moi, mon amour” She said as she got in his lap, legs on both sides of his hips

His hands went to the sides of her waist as she started stroking him slowly, making him whine in desperation

“Hands off, Leclerc” She said stern, but he didn’t react to her words. He could only moan and her touch

“I said; hands off” She stopped the movements in her wrist

“No, please. Let me touch you. Please, I’m begging you” He looked pathetic like this. Naked, begging, fogged up glasses, and messy hair

She didn’t wanna tell him again, so she took both of his hands off of her body, holding them above his head with one hand before she went back to stroking him slowly

“Be a good boy and so as I say. Bad boys don’t get what they want” She smirked hearing his whine

She sat up slightly, just enough for her to draw the tip of his cock through her folds, earning a loud moan from her

“Fuck, you’re doing so good for me, mon amour” She whined as she slowly sank down on him. He screwed his eyes shut and bit his bottom lip, trying to hold his loud sounds in

“I want to hear you’re pretty moans, Charl” He let go of his lip as well as his moans “You sound so fucking good” She praised him as she started going up and down on him

“You’re doing so good for me” Her own moans slipped out of her mouth. Her nails dug into his wrist as she sped up

The sounds of their mixed moans and their skin slapping against each other was filling the whole apartment, if not the whole complex

“You’re so pretty like this; fucked out, trembling, naked, sweaty. So pretty, and just for me. Only me” She started rolling her hips, making Charles’ cock hit the right spot inside her

He nodded along side a groan “Just for you, mon amour” Strings of French curse words fell from his lips, indicating he was getting closer again

“You’re gonna come for me, Charlie?” He nodded, arching his back away from the couch

“Yes, please, fuck. Can I come?” He always asked, even though she has asked if he was gonna come

“Of course, baby” She captured his lips on hers as he came inside her. The feeling of his cum inside her, send her over the edge, getting her own orgasm

“You did so good for me, love” She kissed the corner of his mouth, letting go of his wrists, letting him finally touch her

“Always so good”

[python333]

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

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

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

pardon? — python333

— — — —

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

relationships platonic!taskforce 141 & reader.

characters cap. price, soap, ghost, gaz.

word count 2.6k

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It was their stupid accents you hated. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mhm,” Ghost hums. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No, it’s not.”

“Yeah it is.”

“No it’s—” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Muppet?” 

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

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

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

“Oh, I’ll have you all know—” 

“Ghost, don’t start—” 

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

[inkdrinkerworld]

Stitches, Films and Sponges Baths?

Cw: fluff, shy!team doctor!reader, Dick being a flirty shit

“Nightwing B-01, injured.” Calls the electronic voice through the comms and you get moving immediately.

“How bad is it?” You ask as you snap gloves on and reach for your kit.

“Bad enough that I’ll miss seeing your concentrated face, angel.” Dick flirts and you suck at your teeth.

The moment he comes into view, you realise that as much as he flirts he hadn’t been lying.

He’s cut under his eye, there’s another on his bicep and a tear in the side of his suit.

“Who did you lose a fight to?” That gets him to open his eyes and he spots a slight frown on your lips.

“I didn’t lose, I’m just a little more cut up than you’re used to seeing me.” You clean up his face first and your frown smooths out when you realise it's more blood than wound.

“This one isn’t too bad, maybe a butterfly stitch if you really want one. It should close within the day.”

Dick reaches for your gloved hand, “Put the stitch please, angel? Don’t want you having to stare at that cut every time you look at me;” he smiles and as if he’s reconsidered his statement he adds. “Unless it makes me look rugged and even hotter.”

Your body flushes, heat rushing through you and you nibble on your lip as you set the stitch on his cheekbone.

“You look fine, can you open your eyes now?”

He does, “Missed seeing them, did you?”

“Dick,” it’s only a warning, but he likes when you say his name so it’s one he elects to ignore- on the basis of the fact that if he does, you’re going to fluster even more. And he likes that even more.

“Your bicep isn’t too bad, just a scratch really. I’m more worried about your side, so I’m going to look at that first.”

His arms reach up for you to undress him and Dick bites his tongue to keep his smile at bay when your eyes widen and your fingers drag up his stomach as you lift off the top of his suit.

You wonder if he can tell that your pulse is rioting now?

He’s always been pretty, flirty and overly friendly to you and you’ve never known where to put all that.

Dick is gorgeous, he’s been gorgeous from the moment you’d been recruited here from the Bat, but he’s also never been by himself since you’ve been here- a little bit of a relationship man and while you’d love to pursue that, you don’t know if your poor heart will handle his flirty unleashed.

“It’s not so bad, just a little jagged so the stitching is going to hurt a bit. I’m sorry.”

Dick tuts, his heart clenching at how considerate you are- then he wonders if that’s just your bedside manner.

“No need for that, I can take a little pain.”

You nod, and get started with your needles and thread, closing up Dick’s wound with a steady hand.

“These are dissolvable, but they can still rip if you aren’t careful so you’re on bed rest until they dissolve.”

“How long will that take, angel? Trying to plan how many days I have with you.”

You clench your jaw to stop your smile, but Dick takes note of the way that your eyebrows jump and your eyes crinkle with little crow’s feet.

“A week or two for the most, but you can’t go around training like usual until they dissolve.”

He nods, “So what do you say to movie nights and reading challenges all week?”

You do let yourself smile then, Dick’s proposed things you like that he doesn’t necessarily find that mind blowing.

“And what will you do?” You ask, a vote of confidence to play along with his tease.

“Probably work on some tech stuff, but we’ll at least be together so you can have all the time in the world just staring at me till you’re ready to make a move.”

You grumble and scrub your face making Dick chuckle.

“That was mean, I’m sorry angel.” He coos and you look up to find him still smirking.

“Mhm, I totally believe you,” you finish his stitch and cover it with a piece of gauze and medical tape. “I don’t think I’ll be able to spend the entire week with you Grayson. I’ve got class.”

His eyebrows jump, “Class? Did you start a new programme?”

You nod, “Behavioral analysis.” Dick smiles, a little wicked at the confession. You move to his bicep, cleaning up the blood to find three claw-like marks tearing through his skin.

“Do you need real life case studies? I’ll be happy to help you out. You can analyse my behaviour when I’m with you.”

Your belly heats, and you’re sure the way you fluster is evident to Dick and that makes you feel even more bashful.

It’s clear he does feel a little bad about how flushed he’s making you when you feel his hand reach up to your cheek.

“I’ll stop for a little, angel. Don’t want you to pass out from all the heat you’re pushing out.”

“Dick!” You whine and he laughs, a full belly laugh that makes your frown turn to a small smile. “You’re the worst.”

You finish cleaning and dressing the scratches on his bicep, they only needed a few stitches on one of them.

“Oh am I?” He coos and you grumble, biting your lip to stop from swearing at him. “Okay okay, I’ll really stop now.” He promises; you look up at him through your lashes as you pull away from his hand and start cleaning up.

“Wanna watch a film with me?” He asks as you finish cleaning, his body suddenly tired now that he’s not worried about flirting and teasing you.

“One of your black and white French films?” It’s his turn to flush a little, clearly not expecting anyone to notice his choice in movies. “You always leave the disk in, and I don’t think anyone else is watching espionage French films except you.” You explain with a little smile.

“Maybe not a French one, we can do Russian or Spanish- I know you watch those.”

You shrug, “We can trade off, one French, one Spanish.”

Dick nods, groaning as he stands. His hand pressed tight to his side. “Why don’t you choose first, angel. Gonna get Alfred to sponge me off,” he pauses at the door, a mischievous smirk on his lips as he turns back to you. “Unless you want to do it, which I have zero objections to.”

“Go get your sponge bath Grayson, I’ll be in the media room.”

[jedipoodoo]

Better Late Than Never (Sergeant Hunter x Pregnant!Reader)

Notes/Warnings: Labor and delivery, descriptions of pain and birth, Hunter wants to be a Good Dad, divider by @stars-n-spice

"I don't like this," Hunter said.

You placed your hand on his tattooed cheek, and he held it there, closing his eyes as if he would fall asleep right then and there.

"It's one more job, Hunter. Just a simple smash-and-grab. You'll all be back before you know it."

Hunter looked over his shoulder at Omega in the cockpit with Wrecker and Tech prepping themselves for the impending mission. He could no more leave them to this assignment on their own than he could leave you alone.

Well, not totally.

With a heavy sigh Hunter lowered himself to his knees so he was facing your belly. He pressed his ear to your tummy and listened for a moment. The baby's heart beat in time with yours, embedding itself in his memory.

"Hold on for just a couple days, okay?" He whispered to your child, "Be good for your mama, and just wait for me, okay?"

You carded your fingers through Hunter's satiny locks, and he looked up at you, eyes big, and bottom lip twitching as if he was going pout about leaving you.

"Baby's still got a bit to cook before they're ready to come."

"But how can you be sure?" Hunter begged, standing up and taking both your hands in his.

You rolled your eyes and kissed the tip of his nose.

"It'll be fine, Hunter. Don't worry about it."

"Hunter," Tech called from the cockpit, "We are coming up on the target."

Hunter sighed, and his shoulders slumped as he mentally relented.

"You'll be alright?"

"I'll be alright."

"You'll comm us if anything goes wrong?"

"I will."

"You have your breathing exercises and the medical equipment?"

"Hunter," You warned as the ship descended smoothly through the atmosphere.

Hunter kissed your forehead gently, then paused, licking his lips as he thought.

"You'll be alright?" He asked one more time.

You nodded. "We'll be alright."

You were not going to be alright.

You'd been having contractions on and off for weeks, so when the contractions started in the middle of the night, you brushed it off and went to sleep (with the perimeter alarms set, of course).

But now, hours and hours later, the contractions hadn't stopped. In fact, they were slowly growing closer together.

"Easy, easy," You said, forcing yourself to relax.

You were supposed to comm Hunter. You promised him you'd comm if anything went wrong.

You checked the chronometer. Only an hour until they were supposed to be back. They'd be back any minute, you knew it. It wouldn't do Hunter any good to comm him while he was on his way back, it would just put him into a frenzy, and the others didn't need to deal with that.

One more hour.

You'd be alright.

Three hours later, and the others weren't back yet. You forbade yourself from worrying. So what if they got held up? They'd made it out of worst cases with worse odds. They'd be back any minute.

You should have commed Hunter. Or should you wait for Hunter to comm you? You didn't want the signal to get picked up by someone else who could track the signal back to you, or worse, the others.

Another contraction started, the wave of pain cresting almost immediately. Where had Tech put the pain medicine again?

You switched on the comm, struggling to keep your breathing even so that Hunter wouldn't panic the moment he picked up. But instead, all you got was static.

Kark.

"Hunter?" Maybe the connection was just a bit fuzzy. He had to be there. He was always there.

"Hunter," you tried again, "Dinner's almost ready, how soon will you be back?"

Nothing.

You pulled yourself out of the bunk, using the wall and the chairs for support as you searched for the medicine cabinet. Would regular pain meds work? Was it too early to take the pitocin? You needed to see what was going on down there and how far along you were, but the only mirror on the ship hung on the wall in the refresher, and there was no way you could do the gymnastics for that right now.

You'd read through the birthing procedure several times, but all of it jumbled together in your mind and all you could focus on was the pain. You needed relief, you needed this baby out.

But not yet. Not like this. Not without Hunter.

You exhaled deeply, and the contraction passed. It was going to be alright.

"Hang on there," You whispered, patting your bump, "Just hang on a little bit longer."

You commed them every hour, begging them to pick up, but no one did. Not even Omega. It had been too long. They were hurt, in trouble. They wouldn't have gone this long without sending you a warning. Something had to have happened to them, to Hunter.

Crying made breathing harder, so you tried not to, but the tears kept running down your face. Kneeling at the side of the bed with your knees spread helped alleviate some of the pain, but you could feel the baby getting closer.

You clutched the comm in your hand, and dialed again.

"Hunter, please, let me know you're out there. I can't hold off much longer. I need you here. Please."

You couldn't wait anymore. This baby was coming whether or not Hunter was here.

Another contraction. This time, you pushed, but it didn't feel like anything happened.

"Oh come on!" You screamed to nothing and no one in particular. The frustration with the whole situation was starting to bubble over.

Another contraction started immediately after, and you pushed again, screaming as loud as you could. Now that felt good.

"Cyare!?" the comm crackled to life, and you froze.

"Hunter!" You gasped in relief.

"Are you okay? What the hell was that!?" He demanded.

Before you could tell him, a third contraction began, and you had to scream again. You didn't feel any closer to having the baby out of you, but the screaming at least felt like you were doing something about it.

"Hunt, you gotta hurry," You tried to tell him everything before another contraction overtook you, "The baby is- AUGGGGH!!"

Hunter said nothing. Not that you were coherent enough to respond, but you wanted him there, to comfort you, to promise that everything would be alright. But after that one blessed interaction, the comm stayed silent, with not even a flicker of static.

"Hunter?"

In answer to your question, Hunter burst into the hold of the ship. His armor was scorched with blast marks and dirt, and there were leaves and twigs stuck to his hair. His helmet was nowhere to be seen.

"Hunter?" Your jaw dropped, but you hardly had any time to be shocked by his appearance. Hunter knelt at your side, and took your hand.

"Still got a while to cook, huh?" he teased.

"Shuddup and- AH!"

You seized his hand in a bone crushing grip, and although Hunter winced in pain, he refused to complain.

"Where... where are the others?"

Hunter carefully stretched out each finger as your grip loosened, making sure none were broken.

"They were behind me, I'm not sure how far. The whole area was covered by a signal scrambler, so as soon as we had the target I had to get out of range to check in with you."

You nodded dazedly, only half-listening, but it seemed as though they weren't in too much danger.

"Ch-check, look down there, how far along am I?" You whimpered.

He held your hand while he looked.

"Holy kark," he inhaled sharply.

"What? What is it?"

Hunter laughed, "I can see the head, it's full of hair."

"No wonder I had so much heartburn," You rolled your eyes.

Hunter lifted your hand to his lips, kissing it gently, "You've done amazing so far, Cyare. I'm here now."

Your lip trembled, and you leaned into his chest with a sob.

"It hurts so much," you whimpered.

"I know, Cyare, I know," he crooned gently. He wrapped his arm around you, kissing the top of your head.

"Next contraction, push. They're almost out, I'll catch them."

You nodded, "Just let me... Rest a moment..." you clutched his shirt, begging him to let you stay in his arms.

Hunter held you for as long as he could, gently stroking your head and humming a lullaby. But as soon as you tensed up, he knew another contraction was coming.

"Push sweetheart, I got 'em."

You were still kneeling at the side of the bunk. Your knees were killing you, so you pushed yourself up to get your feet beneath you so you were in more of a crouch, spreading your legs to give baby plenty of room. Gritting your teeth, you dug your fingers into the mattress and pushed.

"That's it, Cyare, that's it!" Hunter cheered you on through the contraction.

"How far?" You gasped.

"They came out another inch!"

"An inch!?" You screamed. This was going to take forever.

The universe seemed determined to make your birth experience as difficult as possible, because Hunter's attempt at encouragement was smothered beneath the sound of blasterfire a short distance away.

Hunter froze.

"Is there any chance you can hold it for a bit longer?" From the nervous tone in his voice, he was intimately aware of just how stupid his question sounded.

"Are you kriffing serious?" You still glared at him.

"Hunter, would you mind starting up the engines?" Tech asked over the comms, completely oblivious to your predicament.

"A little busy right now!" you both shouted.

Hunter growled in annoyance, "They're being followed. We'll have to make a quick getaway-"

With that, Wrecker stumbled on board carrying a large chest that seemed to be the target Cid had sent you to trade for.

"They didn't like that Cid tried to short-change 'em!" He boasted with a grin, helmet balanced atop his head.

"I believe they also recognized us from when we intercepted the lizard from them several months back," Tech added, slowly backing up the stairs with a blaster firing in each hand, "Omega, cover for me."

Omega laid down cover fire, allowing Tech to slip into the pilot's seat and activate the shields. The whole ship trembled as it took off, and you moaned in pain.

"Whats up with you?" Wrecker asked.

Hunter shoved him in the direction of the gunner's tail, "Get us out of here, Tech! The baby's coming!"

"The baby's coming!?" Everyone shouted at once. They all turned to look at you to see if it was really true, and Hunter began to bark orders when they didn't move fast enough for his liking. Tech would pilot the ship, Wrecker would man the turret, and Omega walked you through your breathing exercises. She even brought over Lula for emotional support.

"I hate this," You growled. A jolt from the ship would have knocked you off of your delicate balance if Hunter wasn't holding you in place.

"Just hold on, just until Tech can get us into hyperspace, then it's smooth sailing from there."

"Don't you dare jinx us!" You snapped. With each hit from an enemy ship, it felt like the baby was being shook loose. Hunter assured you, however, that baby was right where they were supposed to be.

The moment the Marauder lurched forward into hyperspace, you screamed as loud as you could, desperately pushing baby out.

"Keep going, Cyare, just keep going!" Hunter urged, one hand on your hip to hold you steady, and the other waiting to catch the baby in his palm.

"HAAAAHHH!" You pushed with all your might. You wrapped your hands around the rungs of the bunk ladder to hold yourself up.

"Can I see?" Omega tried to inch closer to get a better view, and although you were wearing a nice long pregnancy tunic, it was hiked up to your waist to facilitate the birth, and you had never felt so embarrassed to be in such a state in front of anyone but Hunter.

"Hunter, if you would allow me to-"

"Is it here yet?"

Everyone started talking at once and you snapped.

"GET. OUT!"

Omega and the boys froze at your request.

"You heard her," Hunter said firmly, "Get out, give us some space. We'll let you know as soon as we want company."

"But-" Omega sounded incredibly disappointed.

"Now!" you warned. Wrecker pulled her into the cockpit and shut the door, leaving you in blissful silence but for the humming of the ship.

"Remind me to never get you angry," Hunter mused. Your return quip was lost as his thumbs gently massaged your hip bones, gently easing your pelvis open to allow baby more room.

"Almost there, Cyare. Can you give me one more big push?"

"I can't -" you gasped breathlessly. Tears rolled down your cheeks as your head lolled back, catching on his shoulder.

" 'S too much, too much," You whimpered.

Hunter nodded, but said nothing. He'd never been through what you were at this moment, but he understood how you felt. The oversensitivity that was simply seen as a side effect of his enhanced senses was overwhelmingly painful. When that happened to him, he always turned to you. You'd hold him, hum to him, giving him something to focus on besides the pain.

Hunter pressed his cheek against yours and began to hum, his soothing tenor soothing over all the worries and fears running through your mind.

"You're just too good to be true.... Can't take my eyes off of you..."

You relaxed a little bit, and Hunter crooned his approval.

"Just... One more push?" You asked.

"One more, Cyare. You ready?"

You nodded, and Hunter gently guided your hands to the mattress for you to hold onto. Your legs were wobbly, but Hunter had one hand at your back to hold you up, and the other waiting beneath you to catch the baby. Lula was laying on the bed next to your hand, and you tucked her under your arm, trying not to cry as you thought of the way you snapped at Omega.

When this contraction hit, you were ready.

"Push, Cyare, push!" Hunter said.

You screamed a battle cry, not worrying if the others heard you.

"Yes, yes that's it!"

There was a gush of all things wet and sticky puddling at your feet, and suddenly the pain and pressure was gone, leaving a dull, insistent ache behind.

"Is... Is that it?" You gasped, heaving deep breaths. It felt as if it had ended all too quickly for how much you'd labored and how much it had hurt.

"You did it!" Hunter was at you side, briefly kissing your cheek before he disappeared. The room was quiet and everything seemed to still, until the room was filled with the sound of a baby's cry.

Your head dropped into your arms as your tears of pain turned to tears of joy.

"Ten fingers, ten toes, two eyes and ears..." Hunter quickly looked over your baby to ensure they were healthy, all while gently wiping them down with a clean cloth.

You lowered yourself to your knees, landing in the puddle of blood and body fluids that came out with the baby

"I-I meant to put down towels... I wasn't even thinking-" Your fuzzy post-labor brain was almost taken over by disappointment in yourself, but Hunter returned to your side, his eyes shining with joy.

"It's alright Cyare. Our daughter's here, and you did amazing," he said.

"Our daughter?" You gasped.

"Hello ad'ika," You whispered, reverently gathering her into your arms, "Hello there."

Hunter held out his scarf, wrapped around a wriggling little thing. She had her father's curls and dark skin, tinged with pink. Her eyes were screwed shut as she whimpered.

Mindful of the baby, Hunter leaned over, crowning your forehead with a ring of kisses, "And hello Mama," he hummed playfully, "That was the most amazing thing I've ever seen you do, and I've seen you wrestle a wookiee."

You laughed, feeling lightheaded, "Thank you for your help."

"Nah, Cyare, that was all you."

"She's so tiny," Omega gasped, as if anything louder would shatter the delicate thing resting in your arms.

"She won't be for long," Tech said in his usual brusque tone as he took the baby's vitals, and yours, "When was the last time that you ate?"

You flushed as your stomach rumbled painfully, "I didn't even think about food..."

"Looks like she didn't though!" Wrecker guffawed as he waved towards your daughter.

"She eats like a starving wookie," Hunter said reverently. He placed his arm around your shoulder, cradling the baby's head of downy hair in his free hand.

"She could give Wrecker a run for his money," you sighed. Your wonderful husband handed you a protein bar and his full canteen. It was hardly the luxurious first meal most women dreamed of eating after they gave birth, but you weren't complaining.

As the baby nursed insistently, you leaned against Hunter, struggling to stay awake.

"Should we let you sleep?" He rested his cheek against your forehead.

You shook your head, "I can't stop watching her," You said, "She's just perfect."

"Enjoy it while you can," Tech said, leaning over to try and do another test. Hunter batted his hand away.

"You can take this up later. She needs rest."

Tech huffed, "Very well, if you insist."

Hunter gave a look to Wrecker that conveyed the same tone, and Wrecker ushered Omega away to give you three some space.

"Any ideas?" You asked Hunter, referring to the elusive perfect name for your daughter.

He shook his head, eyes glued to the baby like yours. He continued to run his fingers over her satiny curls, but you saw him bite his lip nervously.

"Hunt, are you okay?" You gently tapped his chin to draw his attention and he gave a jolt in surprise.

He shook his head, "I just...I can't believe I almost missed this."

"Oh Hunt," You said.

"I should never have left you like this. I told Cid we needed a break so that we could take care of you."

"Hunter I told you to go. We need the money she'll pay for this." You waved to the trunk Wrecker had hauled onto the ship.

"What's in there anyway?"

Hunter gave you a deadpan look, "Three guesses, and the first two don't count."

Ah, spice. You nodded slowly. You knew Hunter agreed that this was not the kind of life you wanted for your child, despite the fact that it was miles better than the one your daughter would have on Kamino.

"We need a better line of work. One where I don't leave you for days on end," Hunter said, pulled you against his chest so he could rest his chin atop your head.

Baby girl decided she'd had her fill, and milk dribbled down her chin as you cleaned yourself up. Hunter helped you settle her against your shoulder with a rag to catch the spitup.

"We'll figure that out later. We've managed this so far, right?"

"Right," Hunter still sounded uncertain.

"And you didn't end up missing it, right?"

Hunter sighed, "Right."

Baby hiccuped, and by the way Hunter's nose scrunched, she'd burped.

"Here, hold your daughter."

"You're sure you don't want to?" Hunter asked, even as he cradled the tiny thing in his skilled hands.

"I've held her for nine months. I am more than happy to let you have a turn."

Hunter chuckled, "Better late than never, huh, ad'ika?"

[marionluth]

Jason guilt-tripping Bruce to the point of malfunction to get Tim and Damian out of trouble.

*Bruce chewing out Damian and Tim for some dangerous shit they pulled at patrol without clearance that could have led to their untimely demise.*

—------------------------------------------------

Bruce: [...] Irresponsible! Careless! You could have both died tonight!

Damian: *mumbling* not like we have a Lazarus Pit or anything…

Bruce: What was that?

Tim: B, it wasn't that bad *secretly activates comm* we wouldn't die tonight. *Cough* Jay sos *cough*

Damian: *mumbling* And even if we did…

Bruce: Timothy I am so disappointed in you. You of all people should think before you act, consider the implications…

*Jason casually walks in*

Jason: Did I hear something about someone almost dying?

Bruce: Damian and Tim did something irresponsible, idiotic and…

Tim: We almost died and B is totally blowing it out of proportion!

Jason: *death glares Tim* Oh you almost died? You ALMOST died?

Jason: *shifting death glare to Bruce* You know who REALLY died once?

Bruce: *OH-DEAR-LORD-NOT-AGAIN mode activated*

Jason: I died. For real. But sure, you have to make everything in this damn family about your golden duo. The replacement and the demon brat!

Tim: Oh not again with the DRAMA Jason. We all know you died, let it rest, man!

Jason: I RESTED IN FUCKING PEACE, DRAKE!

Bruce: Jason, for the millionth time…

Jason: No, cool, it's fine! You can pretend I don't exist, I don't fucking care! Why should you even give a shit about me dying? Not like you avenged me or anything! You're vegnance my ass…

Bruce: Jason we've been over this…

Jason: I bet you'd avenge them. You'd shred into pieces any fucker that killed them. But Jason? No! Hell no! Ain't nobody got time for that!

Tim: Ain't nobody got time for this, zombie drama queen!

Bruce: Tim, please that was uncalled for…

Jason: Tim please? Tim please? Why don't you give him a fucking cookie, too?

Bruce: Jason…

Jason: No it's cool, it's fine, I don't give a fuck that you care more for them than me. Their lives matter. Cool. Cool.

Bruce: *fatal error - ability to talk about complicated feelings and resolve resentment not found-

Damian: Technically if father was to break his moral code to avenge anyone after their death that should rightfully be…

Jason & Tim: SHUT UP DAMIAN!

Bruce: *incoherent grunts*

Jason: Don't know what I was even expecting, B. Your little precious lap-dogs are more important than my stray ass. The billionaire brat and the demon!

Tim: *to Bruce indignantly* You're not gonna tell him anything? Of course not. God forbid you yell at the prodigal!

Damian: So disappointing, Father.

*Bruce retreating to the dark inner part of the cave grunting incoherently*

*Tim, Jason, and Damian storm out of the cave yelling at each other*

*Yelling immediately stops as soon as they step into the living room.*

*Tim & Jason High five with pleased smirks*

Damian: Wait, that was staged?

Tim:

Jason:

—-----------------------------------------------

Every time I start working on a canon-compliant WIP on this fandom I get so freaking depressed and angry that I then start writing non-canon batfam crap just as a pick me up. Sorry, not sorry!

[stellarbit]

Hiiii! I love your writing so much! Can you please do one with crosshair and his adorable general who’s super sweet but is super shy and easily frightened. Because of this crosshair is SUPER protective of her and every time someone teases him about it he completely denies his feelings for her. And of course, his general is totally oblivious to this.

Though I am slow at requests, I so appreciate what y'all send me. I hope you enjoy <3

Word Count: 1.9k Pairing: fem!reader x Crosshair No Warnings Summary: A little drabble of Crosshair basically being a grumpy shadow for ya in the best way.

Crosshair stuck the butt of his rifle in your path. "Not a chance," he stated flatly.

You were deep into a recon mission for the legion you both were aiding. As the Jedi General assigned to Clone Force 99, your task was to locate and rendezvous with the commanding General. The journey required traversing two kliks over a rugged ridge, and having Crosshair, with his keen sniper's eye, was indispensable. Just as you were gearing up to leap down to a lower vantage point, he intervened.

Gently pushing his rifle aside with two fingers, you questioned, "Why not?"

His gaze followed the trajectory of your intended jump. "Doesn't seem like your kind of jump," he remarked coolly. He’d gotten a glimpse of your fear of heights a few missions ago and had yet to let you live it down.

“I can handle it.” You challenged him.

“Sure you can.” Crosshair replied. He readjusted his rifle and pivoted away, signaling for you to follow without awaiting a reply. "Let's move."

Catching up, you prodded him, "Who's in command here, exactly?" Your tone was light, playful even. It was this easy going demeanor that had landed you with Clone Force 99; your leadership style didn't clash with the team's dynamic, as you knew when to lead and when to listen.

Crosshair snorted, but continued on in silence. He’d welcomed your being assigned to his squad. Despite not being fond of over the top accolades, he couldn’t deny he enjoyed the recognition. Even without the Force, he found you impressive. You were skilled and selfless, sometimes to your own detriment. 

Despite your clear nervousness, you never allowed fear to dominate. The entire squad had noticed your jumpiness, a stark contrast to your fearless command. Crosshair, with his sniper eyes, noted the small tells: the slight purse of your lips before diving into water, the held breath as you squeezed through narrow gaps. Your reaction to the sudden boom of cannons or the sharp crack of thunder was almost instinctual, a flinch that you could barely control.

Yet, for all your sensitivities, you never let them hinder the mission. You pressed on without complaint, earning not just Crosshair’s respect but his silent guardianship. He watched over you, often from a distance, ensuring that nothing would compromise your focus or safety.

That protectiveness went into high gear when you’d nearly slipped down a steep cliff. You’d caught yourself well enough and in doing so you clung to Crosshair immediately beside you. Even through his armor he could feel your trembling. It was only for a moment, you released him quickly enough, but Crosshair picked up on it all the same.

Once you scouted the ridge, you commed the commanding General and headed for the rendezvous spot. 

“He said he and his captain will meet us back at camp,” you relayed, checking the coordinates on your comm device before glancing at Crosshair. “We should make it back before they do.”

“Is that a challenge?” Crosshair asked, a scoff at the end.

You hummed playfully, “I didn’t realize that would be a challenge for you.”

Crosshair held his rifle close, positioning himself to sprint. “Don’t expect me to catch you if you trip.”

The suggestion sent a jolt through you—was it the fear or the thought of his arms catching you? There wasn’t time to ponder as Crosshair surged ahead. Show off, you mused silently, though the view of him leading the way was something you never complained about.

Before returning to camp, you had to make it down a steep incline - about 50 feet. Crosshair slid down the incline, as nimble as ever. At the bottom, he secured his rifle across his pack and shifted his weight onto one foot, signaling you to follow.

“Don’t worry,” He said, his teasing bordered on mocking. “When you fall, I’ll catch you.” Even with his helmet concealing his features, the slight tilt of his head suggested a smirk.

Without pausing to gauge the distance, you summoned the Force behind your movement and launched yourself down the incline. It was a controlled, forceful descent aimed directly at the sniper. His helmet jerked back slightly, caught off-guard by your bold maneuver, as he braced to intercept you. 

You could have eased the landing, but the opportunity to test Crosshair's assurance was far too tempting. True to his word, he caught you adeptly, his movements syncing perfectly with your descent. He pivoted, his arm securing around your legs while his other hand steadied at the small of your back, guiding you safely against him. Your waist nestled just below his chest, your hands resting lightly on his shoulders as you looked down at him with a smile.

A subtle motion caught your attention—the soft brush of his thumb across your back, almost imperceptible.

“Nice catch.” You whispered down to him. 

Crosshair’s helmet, angled up towards you, tilted subtly to the side—a silent question or perhaps contemplation. He made no move to lower you to the ground, his arms creating a gentle but firm cradle. You remained as motionless as possible, acutely aware of every point of contact. The warmth from where your bodies touched seemed to radiate, intensifying the sensations.

Under the fading light of dusk, shadows played across your faces, cloaking the flush that had started to climb up your neck. You hoped the dimness concealed your reaction, though part of you wondered if Crosshair, with his keen senses, could detect the change in your pulse or the slight tremor in your breath.

With a slight shift, Crosshair broke the silence in a dry tone, “Should we include you jumping into my arms in the debrief or was the little show just for me?” Even hidden behind his helmet, the slight tilt of his head suggested a smirk.

A flush of embarrassment warmed your cheeks as another thumb brushed the small of your back, the slow, deliberate motion sending a shiver through you. You arched involuntarily at the touch, a nervous laugh escaping your lips. Squirming slightly under his gaze, you managed to wiggle free from his loose embrace and found your footing on solid ground. Your hands lingered on his chest briefly, feeling his arms still encircling you.

Before he felt your hands trembling, you gave him a light pat on the chest. “Best keep it between us - wouldn’t want to have to explain your slow reflexes.” You were impressed by the steadiness in your voice.

Crosshair stepped back, feigning offense. “Slow reflexes? You launched yourself at me.” It wasn’t an accusatory statement, more of a reminder.

Backing away in the direction of camp, you wagged a finger between the two of you. “Between us it is.” At the rate you walked away you were practically fleeing the scene.

You ended up making it back before the other general. Crosshair joined his brother’s at the landing strip of the Marauder while you checked in with the Commander on duty.

As Crosshair approached he pulled his helmet off and slipped a toothpick between his lips. 

Hunter leaned against the wing of the shuttle and said, “Took you long enough.” The comment earned a sharp glance from Crosshair, his expression tightening just enough to convey his annoyance. Hunter had watched his brother pick at you and knew him enough to know Crosshair was fussing over you in his own way.

Tech's voice preceded him from the ship. “Right on time. The other general is arriving momentarily as well.” Descending the stairs, Tech barely lifted his eyes from his datapad. “We should be departing shortly.”

True to Tech's prediction, the Jedi General in command and his Clone Captain emerged through the underbrush soon after. While you engaged in a discussion with the General, the Clone Captain approached the rest of the Batch. 

He tilted his helmet respectfully. “Thanks for the support, troopers. They weren’t kidding when they said you were effective.”

Wrecker snorted, a smirk playing on his lips. “Yeah, someone's gotta be good at their job around here.”

The Captain did a double take at the large clone, but only shook his helmet in response. Resting a hand on his hip, he glanced towards where his Jedi General was standing. With a chuckle, he mused aloud, “I wouldn’t mind being under her command.”

Tech audibly groaned, while Crosshair’s head snapped towards the Captain, his body language tense. “And why is that?” His voice was sharp, a clear edge underlying the question.

Hunter inhaled deeply, sensing the brewing storm. Wrecker, meanwhile, stood by grinning, evidently enjoying the unfolding drama.

Nonchalantly, the Captain gestured towards you, unaware of the undercurrents swirling around him. “Who wouldn’t want to get to look at her all the time?”

Crosshair’s helmet muffled his simmering as he pulled it over his head. Turning to face him directly, Crosshair tilted his head towards the Captain. “You’ll have to say that again.”

The Captain, caught off guard by the sniper’s intensity, scoffed dismissively, “Is that right?”

In a taunting, egging-on voice Crosshair said, “Either you say it to her.” Crosshair pointed to you then stepped closer, invading the Captain’s personal space, his posture menacing. “Or you say it to me.”

A dismissive chuckle came from the Captain and he said, “Fine.”

Meanwhile, you wrapped up with the General. “Anytime Master, we’re happy to have helped.” You were about to shake their hand when you noticed a commotion at the edge of your vision.

The next moment Crosshair rammed his helmet into the Captain’s with enough force to send the man on his ass. 

“Time to go,” you sighed, rushing towards the unfolding scene. A few regs were gathering by the time you made it through. 

Crosshair was poised to advance on the fallen Captain when you intervened. Slipping in front of him, you wrapped your arms around his armored torso, your presence an immediate barrier. His rage simmered down to a trembling restraint under your hold.

“Cross,” you said with a firm tone, but softened immediately when he pushed against you again. “Hey, hey, hey. Who’s jumping into whose arms now, huh?” Crosshair held the pressure a moment longer, his breath heavy against you, then growled softly and stepped back.

Realizing your hands were still at his sides, you snatched your hands back as if he was too hot to touch.

“Wise choice,” Crosshair sneered over your shoulder at the Captain, who was clumsily regaining his footing. His hand found its way to your waist, and with a hiss that betrayed a blend of annoyance and protective instinct, he murmured, “After you, General,” guiding you towards the Marauder’s ramp with an unexpected gentleness.

As you passed Hunter, his smirk broad and clearly entertained, Crosshair snapped, “Stow it.”

Your head swiveled between them, confusion knitting your brows. Once on the ship, you halted and pushed back against Crosshair’s guiding hand, spinning around to face him while trying to ignore how his touch lingered. “You just had to fight, didn’t you?” Despite your attempt at authority, your voice cracked, revealing your weak resolution.

Crosshair looked down, a soft chuckle escaping him. He gently turned you back around by the waist and nudged you deeper into the ship. “Your fault,” he crooned, his voice low and teasing.

Your heart skipped despite your frustration. You craned your neck to look up at him, demanding an explanation, “Tell me how.”

“I don’t think I will,” he replied, the hint of a smile still in his voice, leaving the words hanging between you like a challenge.

[h3llraz0rr]

GUYS LOOK AT MY GIRL 🥹💗

THIS WAS A COMMISSION I BOUGHT FROM THE AWESOME @ugleegoff (He's on Instagram and Tik Tok)!! HIS COMMS ARE OPEN ON KO-FI AND YOU GUYS SHOULD DEF SUPPORT HIM!!

Additional Doodles:

LOOK AT MY GOOFBALLS <33

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

HERE'S HIS COMM INFO!!

[auspicioustidings]

Kinktober Day 0

This is the set-up for Kinktober which I'm doing as a linear narrative.

To be clear, there may be 3 or 4 chapters that don't actually have any kink and are just lil bits of fluff and we all agree to be chill about that.

Each chapter before the cut will have all info required on characters and kinks involved. If there is any non-con this will be in bright red but the instances of this will be few and brief as we are operating on a safe-word system and will have safety measures for if characters ignore safe-wording.

-

This must be what Will Smith’s character felt like at the start of Men In Black. What the hell were you doing here? There were a mix of genders in the room, but the one thing everyone seemed to have in common was confidence coming off of them in waves and that they didn’t look like you. They didn’t look like each other either, but they all looked more likely to have walked off of a modelling set than out of a military base.

You weren’t trained in psyops, but this seemed like it might be something in that department. Why else did so many of these candidates ooze beauty and authority? You shouldn’t bloody be here. The application had been secretive, a form slid over a desk from your superior officer who got it from his who got it from his in a chain with no obvious end. Someone had picked you out for this, and you were starting to think that wasn’t a good thing.

Were the people here higher up the chain than you or at the same level? You try to summon confidence, you’re not exactly some green private at their first training exercise. You’re special fucking forces. Yeah the monsters in the SAS or the SBS are out there slaughtering the bad guys, but they wouldn’t be doing shit without the Signal Regiment. You had to go through 25 weeks of hell to make it in. Just because you’re comms, doesn’t mean you didn’t have to prove conduct after capture or jump out of a damn aeroplane to pass training. And you had already served a year in infantry beforehand.

So you get over yourself and wait for further instructions. You have just as much right to be here as any of them.

The first tests go ahead. Fitness (you don’t fall last in the pack for performance, but you’re lower than the middle), gun handling (solidly middle of the pack), comms (you come first). It’s all suspiciously standard stuff. And then you are all put into an actual scenario.

You go into a room. It reeks of blood and sex and there are 3 people, one unconscious. The woman on the floor has a thick collar around her neck and is in scant lingerie that has very clearly been torn for access. There are bruises littering her body, rope marks embedded into her skin. The two conscious people are a man and a woman. She is screaming at the group to shoot him.

He’s told to get on his knees as the bulk of the group assess him as the bigger threat. You ignore them and go to gently check on the woman on the floor along with another candidate, trusting that the rest will subdue both current threats.

“These marks are pretty consistent with BSDM, not prolonged abuse. And the collar has an emergency quick release they’d be able to operate themselves if they had to” the other candidate says.

You immediately get your own gun trained to the other woman when you glance up and see her totally free from any restraint and in close range to one of the other candidates, a protest coming from one of the men who has went to comfort her.

“Put your gun down, you’re scaring her” he hisses.

“Until we have further information on what is happening here, all suspects should be treated as hostile and questioned.”

You don’t know if you got it right, but it seems wildly irresponsible to just decide that the big man must be the bad guy but she is definitely innocent. Mostly it’s just a strange scenario you’ve been put in, but in the field there can’t be trust for strangers. It’s not a courthouse, everyone is assumed hostile until there is proof to the contrary.

It isn’t resolved, you are all just told the exercise is over. One by one candidates are called into an office until it’s only you left. You’re absently wondering if you want to make ramen for dinner tonight when you are called in. The sinking feeling that you are in over your head hits you full force. You know one of the two people in this room.

Captain John Price, SAS. You’ve spoken with him before (well you’ve rattled off intel to him through a radio before) and you are well aware he is not to be fucked with.

“What did you think of the exercise then?” he asks, both him and the woman sitting behind the desk openly staring at you like predators with their eyes on a tasty morsel.

“I’m not sure what was being tested sir. I reacted as my training encouraged sir.”

“At ease, soldier. A real answer” the woman says and you squash back a reaction to the American accent.

Your shoulders loosen off. It’s not like you applied for whatever this is, so it isn’t any great loss if they’re about to kick you out. You’ve got ramen to get to, another quiet night at home alone to either enjoy or feel bitterly lonely about. It’s a toss up these days which mood will strike when the lack of warmth starts to bite.

“Most of your candidates need to be sent back to basic. They worked on baseless assumptions rather than taking control of the scene and figuring out what had happened once any danger was subdued. That woman could have killed two of them and taken a third hostage in seconds.”

“I agree” the woman says with a smug little smile, “British forces aren’t what they used to be.”

Price laughs.

“Your yanks would have done far worse. You made the right call. The woman on the floor was in a consensual relationship with the man, the marks were received willingly. But since there’d be no way of knowing, both of the threats needed to be removed. Questioning would have sorted out the truth.”

It was a weird fucking exercise to use. What were they testing with that kind of scenario? Implicit gender bias? But then why the kinky angle when they could have removed the casualty entirely and it served the same purpose? The whole thing was starting to make your skin itch as a folder was put on the table in front of you. You caught a nod from the woman and opened it, feeling like you were about to throw up.

“What is this?”

“Insurance. You break NDA and it’s not a court that’s going to crucify you” Price said, almost cheerily as you looked at photos of yourself.

One of them was taken of you sleeping in bed. The next the camera turned to have you in the background in bed while Price took a selfie barely inches from you, smiling for the camera as if he had any right to be there. More photos. Most of you, but some of loved ones. There is a flash of an image in your head, your last moment being the panic of waking up with a wire around your neck. You wouldn’t have broken NDA, but the overkill makes you unbearably curious. How bad is what they are recruiting for if they have to kill anyone who leaks it?

“I understand sir.”

The woman tilted her head as if you had said something interesting. Did the others react badly you wonder? The thing about being special forces signal regiment was that the lengths that the military would go to didn’t surprise you anymore. They created monsters to fight monsters and hid them away in the dark while they paraded out their nice, proper soldiers for the public. Good family men in uniform, advocates for mental health, veterans who were revered as heroes. The special forces were not those men. Captain John Price was certainly not one of those men.

Did you sometimes find it hard to sleep at night? Of course, you helped those monsters even when the line between good and evil was so thoroughly crossed that you wanted to scream at the world and never stop. But without them? Without them everybody would know exactly how cruel people could be because there would be nothing stopping them.

“This is the Kennel” the woman said as a screen behind her came to life.

The schematics were insane the more you drank them in. Underground bunker, recreational facilities and what seemed to be apartments. You would think it would be some rich person’s doomsday bunker if not for the layers of security. The apartments were locked down tight, there were guard posts and an ungodly amount of surveillance. Nobody was getting out of there if these people didn’t want them to.

You had seen plenty of prisons from high end to metal cages in caves. It was your job to get intel, to guide people through rescue missions or escapes. But this was something else.

“You want to build a luxury secure facility?” you asked, feeling the furrow in your brow and the incessant itching of your skin.

The woman clicked a button and the screen changed. Holy shit, they didn’t want to build it because it had already been built. Where the fuck was this? This was big and it must have costs billions, how on earth had you never heard of it? It wasn’t exactly some dingy black site.

“We need them, but this job twists people. Some of them can still keep it under control at home, some just need to stay immediately after a deployment to calm down. There are 6 full time residents right now. Got 5 part timers and 5 who visit when they need. Not all on our side of things.”

“There are tangos in there?”

“Officially nobody is in there, the Kennel doesn’t exist. Unofficially? It’s Switzerland. A rabid dog will bite whoever you point it to.”

You wanted to be outraged, but was this really so different from all the other foul things you knew happened in the background? A luxury blacksite holding the “good” guys and the “bad” guys alike who couldn’t be trusted out in public but who were needed to unleash upon the enemy. This was so fucked up but you imagined that the military did 5 equally as fucked up things before breakfast.

“What is this job exactly?”

Price crossed his arms and rocked back on his heels, staring you down and making you feel tiny in that chair.

“Sometimes the best place you can be to keep the world safe is on your back.”

“Excuse me?”

He was not implying what you thought he was surely. It was just unfortunate phrasing.

“Just an expression, I imagine only a few of them would want you on your back. Think at least half would enjoy you on your knees.”

You held his stare, determined to wait him out. He was fucking with you. This was some bizarre test and you had no idea how you were supposed to respond.

“He’s asking you to play bitch for his dogs soldier. They get out of hand when they can’t rut” the woman said as if that cleared things up.

“I didn’t figure out anything about the whole BDSM thing or whatever it was during that exercise. It was the other guy. I don’t do any of that stuff.”

They ignored you.

“It’s a month-long contract to see if it improves their behaviour. After that you are free to do whatever you want with a shiny promotion and enough money that you can retire to Hawaii with a glowing record and military honours if you’d prefer” the woman started.

“All you have to do is take whatever they want to give you. No safewords, you can’t stop it once you start” Price finished.

“No.”

“Not even going to consider the offer?” Price asked, almost eager.

“I’m not considering an offer that actively puts me in an unsafe situation with no way to get out.”

“Told you Kate.”

You wanted to be out of this fucking office already. You thought about what previous attempts might have looked like. Sex workers who were thrown in with monsters and torn to shreds. Maybe ones who begged to leave but got assassinated the moment they got home and started talking. Because this wasn’t sex work, it was a military operation. A civilian was never going to survive that situation, not with the kind of monsters you imagined the Kennel held.

“You know why the soldier who knew all about BDSM failed?” Price asked, closer than you remembered him being. “He said yes. Agreed to the terms. I’ve got no time for someone who can’t take care of themselves and is going to get eaten alive within the first 24 hours because they were too eager to please to say no. They try break you? You safeword and I come in and break them.”

There was something in the back of your mind somewhere that found the offer grotesquely appealing. You thought it unlikely they would take you once you told them you were a virgin. It just sort of happened, you didn’t know how to meet people and you were now at an age where the pressure felt insurmountable. Did you tell that to someone on a first date? Did you not tell them and they go too hard and hurt you? What if you couldn’t even do it properly?

This would be work. This would be a military operation that allowed assets to be used rather than put down if it was successful. You’d be getting used, but maybe you wouldn’t be lonely.

It was the negotiations that did you in. The warm hand of Price on your shoulder while he explained aftercare procedure. Some of them would do it themselves, but some they’d probably need to drag off of you and then Price himself would take over. If he wasn’t available for any reason, Kate would.

They framed it like it was a heroic pursuit. These people were broken, they needed someone to start patching up the cracks. Your virginity it transpired was an asset given that they knew just the person who would look after you for your first session. Someone in the Kennel had a sizable virginity kink and you were assured it was one of the part-timers who wasn’t prone to extreme violence the way the residents were. You’d get an info pack with details the day before.

The final nail in the coffin that had you signing the dotted line was Price (deliberately you realised quickly once you got a moment to breathe) mentioning Soap. You knew him. Not in person, but you had talked him through diffusing a bomb before. He had flirted up a storm and his warmth over that radio even when he was seconds from dying at any given point had stuck with you for weeks. It was only a month. You just had to do this for a month.

October 1st you would lose your virginity in a bunker that didn’t exist to a soldier you didn’t know, one who needed you to stop them from fully becoming a monster. Fuck.

[mionemymind]

Can you plsss do an imagine with Wanda (or whoever u feel is right) where reader is a formula 1 driver? It'd be so cool. But you don't hv to ofc. I'm a new follower and i absolutely adore ur works <3

Getaway Driver (Rewritten)

Summary: Based off my incorrect quote, Y/n is the getaway driver for Wanda's mission.

Warnings: Shooting, Cursing, Slight Blood, Fluff

A/n: Before y'all comment, I really suck ass at action sequences lmaoo. Please try to imagine something better. But this is for the folks that love F1 and Wanda (@thatdudeusimpfor @canyonyodeler @pikachooo3 @rayisaknight) also gif credits go to Redbull

I had rewritten this the very next day because I was so unhappy with how I did the action scene. Hopefully this is better :)

Word Count: 4.3k

Masterlist

“Lights out and away we go!” The rumble of engines passed by as cars zoomed past the start. The roaring cheers coming from the fans grew louder with each second. 

Starting in pole position, Y/n gets away unscathed from the mess in the back as well as her current teammate, Max Verstappen. They stay side by side through the chicane, protecting the front positions as many drivers behind them try to slip past. 

In between turns two through five, multiple close calls occur as the the Stake F1 team showcase breaking issues this early on in the race. Y/n hardly got out of the chicane without hearing mishaps from the back. 

“Fucking cunt,” George Russel stated to his race engineer, Marcus Dudley. The fans screamed and laughed as the message was played out loud for the whole broadcast to hear. 

To mediate the tensions, a commentator stated, “For this British Grand Prix, we have a total of 52 laps with a forecast of dry conditions.” 

Coming from the paddock, Will Button announces his guesses for the race today, “It will honestly be a close call for first between the young driver of Redbull, Y/n, and her older teammate, Max. I know a Redbull 1 / 2 position will happen but my money is on Y/n as they’ve been on a winning streak for the past three races. As for third position, Lando Norris in the McClaren would be my final guess.”

Will moved closer to the McClaren garage as multiple shots show off the engineers, mechanics, and leaders. “They’ve recently redesigned their floor as well as the front wing. This big upgrade in the middle of the season might be the break that McClaren has been hoping for since the start of the season.” 

Coming up on their first lap, Y/n still leads the race. “51 more to go,” she thinks to herself. Although her head should be in the race, her heart couldn’t help but wish for this race to be already over. A certain red head was all she could think of. 

Two hours away from Silverstone, Wanda listens closely for enemies. She could sense two of them guarding the very door she needed to be in. “On my signal,” Steve mouthed. 

Just as Steve gave the go ahead, the sound of F1 commentary started to play in Wanda’s ear. “Lights out and away we go!” Wanda walked through the hallway, incapacitating the guards, allowing Natasha and Steve to drag them to an empty room. 

Natasha gave Wanda an ‘are you serious’ look as the commentary also played in her comms. “Why am I hearing about a race right now?” They all stood outside the entrance to the headquarters room. Around five guys and one guard were currently there from the looks of it. 

“Sorry, I had meant to only set it to my comms.” Wanda brought out the hologram and changed the settings before looking at Steve for the next set of instructions. 

“Since when did you care about racing?” Wanda shrugged in response as Steve signaled with his hands on which people to take care of. 

“I’ll tell you later.” 

“Are you fucking blind?” Y/n yelled to her race engineer. Lance Stroll had almost hit her side at turn seven, almost costing her the race had they actually made contact. “If he keeps racing like that, he’s bound to hurt somebody.”

“Copy that. We’re already in contact with the FIA about that.” Y/n’s grip on the steering wheel hardened. It was only lap 19 of 52 and her nerves were getting the best of her. She knew the race was going to be easy but her excitement to see Wanda again was causing her to lose focus. 

“I hope she’s watching me somehow,” Y/n thought. It was stupid to hope though as the driver knew Wanda was currently on a mission. It would be highly unlikely that she would watch her race, there were more important things than watching cars go round and round. 

Regardless though, winning this race was important to Y/n. This was the first race as an official couple. While the media hasn’t found out yet, she certainly didn’t want to give Wanda a bad impression. After all, if your girlfriend was continuously saving lives, the least she could do was win a race. 

“This ones for you Wanda.” 

“That should be the last of them.” Steve tied up the last enemy on base and sent the coordinates to backup for retrieval. “Let’s get to the rendezvous point. It’s around 30 minutes west from here on foot.” 

Wanda pulled out her secured phone as they walked out the secured building. She opened up the F1 app and immediately tuned in for the last couple minutes of the race. 

“We have a battle between the two Red Bulls, Max Verstappen and Y/n Y/l/n, for P1.” Steve gave a disapproving nod as they walked through London, trying their best to blend in with the crowd. Wanda could care less of Steve’s approval for her antics. The mission was nearly over and she wanted to at least support her girlfriend from far away. 

“Oh God! There’s a crash at Luffield! It’s a Mercedes!” Wanda watched in horror as the car flipped through the gravel multiple times before hitting the fence, landing in an awkward position. Had the gravel not been there, the car would have surely gone through the fence. A safety car was brought out, allowing people to pit. 

“I believe that was George Russel’s car that had just crashed.” Wanda flipped through the drivers until she found Y/n. Although she knew that wasn’t her car, seeing her safe and sound brought Wanda relief. 

“Jesus, is George okay?” Y/n asked. Wanda smiled at her girlfriend’s natural concern. Although it was one lap away from finishing, it was nice to know that the safety of others was the first thing that Y/n thought of. 

“Wanda.” Looking up, Natasha gave a silent command to put her phone away. “We have people tailing us. When I say go, run as fast as you can. Make sure to stay close.” 

Slyly looking back, Wanda could point out the people that looked out of place. “Fuck me.” 

“Thank you all for the wonderful race! The car was practically a bullet and everyone did so amazing today.” Y/n slid into first place and did a mini celebration on her car. 

As the camera crew came closer, she jumped in front of them and grabbed the camera. Taking off her helmet and balaclava, Y/n yelled, “This win is for my beautiful girlfriend! Can’t wait to see you babe!” 

Looking at the time on the screen, Y/n rushed past the cameras and went straight into the paddock. She ignored all the weird glances and congratulations she got on the way, the race win still fueling her adrenaline.

“Y/n? What are you doing?” Christian yelled but Y/n ignored it. It wasn’t like Red Bull had the balls to fire her for not celebrating.

Her assistant, Niya, had followed suit as Y/n took off her helmet into her dressing room. “Is my car ready Niya?” She nodded as she typed up a statement on her iPad. The team was going to be unhappy at the lack of answers but she knew they were ultimately happy with the points she scored for the team.

In no time, Y/n was out of her race suit and in an all black attire. She ran out of her room, yelling a thank you to Niya. Up on the screens, it showed Max at P2 while Lando was at P3 just like Will guessed. Several news outlets tried to catch up to Y/n, but she was not having it. 

“For the first time in F1 history, we don’t have the P1 spot filled. It seems our winner of the race had an emergency situation to attend to. Regardless, congratulations to Red Bull for the 1 / 2 positions.” 

Y/n smiled at Will’s comment as she passed the gates. This was going to be all over the news ‘Y/n runs off after P1 victory’. Yet Y/n could care less for all the speculations. She had to see her girl and nothing was stopping her. 

Hopping into her jet black Ferrari, Y/n sped out Silverstone. It was around an hour drive to the rendezvous point, but knowing the country like the back of her hand, she was guaranteed to make it on time.

“Does anyone know who the getaway driver is today? Fury stated that we’ll know the day of the mission, but I was never briefed about it,” Steve inquired as the team finally got away from the enemies. 

Wanda glanced up from her phone, “It’s my new girlfriend.” Not a lot of things shocked the assassin and the super soldier, but that comment did. 

“Is she qualified?” Natasha quipped. She found it strange that Wanda hadn’t mentioned her new partner. In addition, the lack of information on Wanda’s girlfriend was also alarming. What if she was the enemy? What if she was an assassin? So many questions ran through her head, but kept her anxiety at bay. 

“More than qualified,” Wanda stated with a proud smile, “She’s a driver at her day job. Plus Fury gave the approval for it just for this mission only.” 

Natasha and Steve digested Wanda’s words and continued to walk. However, Natasha wanted to know more, even if Fury did approve of it. “How did you two meet?” 

“Funny story, I was actually running away…” 

Wanda was surrounded. At every single avenue and exit was a marked enemy and with no back up, she only had herself to rely on. “Shit.” 

Wanda hurried herself out of the hotel, still noticing all the eyes around her. Thank goodness that it was still broad daylight. The enemies weren’t that careless to attract a crowd. 

As if sending a silent prayer, all attention diverted to the red ferrari that pulled up to the hotel. Before the valet could go up, Wanda rushed to and opened the passenger seat. She hopped in and closed the door.

Turning to the driver’s side, Wanda fully expected some old man to occupy the seat, but when her eyes met comforting brown eyes, a pretty smile, and furrowed eyebrows, she was hooked. The red head was distracted for a couple of seconds, before asking, “Do you know how to drive?”

Wanda knew she looked ridiculous. Any sane person would immediately kick her out, heck even call the police. Furthermore, the chances of a rich stranger even offering help was little to none, but when Wanda reached for Y/n’s emotions, she was even more surprised to see that this stranger didn’t feel any of that. 

“I do.” The accent almost made Wanda forget everything, but the sight of enemies getting closer made her focus. 

“Then drive.” 

“So you hijacked your girlfriend’s car, asked her to get you out of a sticky situation, and then survived?” Steve chuckled at Natasha’s question. The story felt like something out of an action movie, but then again, they were superheroes, so anything could happen. 

“I don’t know how, but she managed to get me out of Spain safely. I even asked her to drop me off at our pickup location. Her car wasn’t bulletproof, but she was so fast, they could hardly get a scratch on her.” Wanda smiled at the memory of their first encounter. 

“At the end, she didn’t even ask why I needed to run away. I think she recognized me from the news and just wanted to help. But before I left, she asked for a date.” How crazy does one need to be to ask the very person that put you in danger on a date? 

“I said yes because why not? I liked her and it was the least I could do after she spent a whole hour driving.” It was Natasha’s turn to laugh at how made up the whole story sounded. But when the assassin could not pick up on a single lie, it made her chuckle more. 

“Well I can’t wait to meet her,” Steve remarked. They were 10 minutes away from the pick up point. 

“And she better knows how to drive,” Natasha added. Wanda nodded quickly, the nerves finally making its way to her head. 

“I promise. She’s good.” 

“Where is she?” Natasha didn’t mean to sound aggressive, but they were still on a mission, something she ran a tight ship on. The crew were a minute early to the pick up point and Wanda had forgotten to ask Y/n to share her location. Right now, the witch paced back and forth with her phone in hand. 

The assassin didn’t want to add to Wanda’s already nervous state but they needed to leave. Before Wanda could send another message, a loud car screeched to a halt in front of them. Once the smoke settled, Wanda smiled at the sight of the getaway car. 

Opening the car door, Y/n got out, wearing a suit similar to her driver attire but in all black. “Am I late?” The wide cocky smile on Y/n’s face was hard to hide. The driver knew she was on time but didn’t dare to comment. 

Immediately noticing her girlfriend, Y/n closed the door and picked Wanda up by the thighs, spinning her around. The giggle that escaped Wanda’s lips almost made Natasha barf at how love sick the two were. 

As Y/n placed Wanda back down, she pulled her in by the waist and gave her a long kiss. The two almost forgot that they were in front of a crowd as Wanda ran her hands through Y/n’s hair. 

Natasha wanted to grumble at the unprofessionality but Steve’s look stopped her. Wanda was in love. This was something Steve had never seen before, and he was not going to dare to ruin it. This wasn’t to say that the assassin wasn’t happy for Wanda. She really was, but the mission was still the priority. 

Breaking the kiss, Y/n mumbled, “I’m not too late am I babe?” Wanda shook her head no as a large smile was plastered on her face. 

While holding Wanda’s hand, Y/n looked at Steve and Natasha, “Hi. I’m Y/n Y/l/n. It’s nice to meet you.” Letting go of Wanda’s hand, Y/n reached out to shake their hands. 

Steve was the first to shake Y/n’s hand and said, “Nice to meet you. My name is Steve.” 

Natasha bumped Steve out the way and shook Y/n’s hand, immediately liking the firm grip Y/n had. “I’m Natasha. It’s nice to meet you, but I think we should get out of here.” 

Stepping back to Wanda’s side, “You’re right, let’s get y’all out of here.” Y/n stepped around to open Wanda’s door, something both Steve and Natasha mentally noted.

Once everyone was buckled in, it was like a switch flipped inside Y/n’s brain as she zoomed from the meetup location. 

“Someone is following us.” The rest of the group turned around at Y/n’s comment and noticed the entourage that was heavy on their tail. Y/n had barely driven for 10 minutes before enemies found them.

“I thought we got rid of them,” Wanda grumbled. She wanted her first mission with her girlfriend to have gone a bit smoother, but nothing is ever how she planned. 

The red head looked over her girlfriend’s suit, hoping that Fury had given Y/n a bulletproof suit. Last thing Wanda needed was for Y/n to bleed out. 

Blocking her anxiety away, Wanda focused on the mission at hand. 

“Do you think you can lose them?” Steve asked, ready to fight. Remembering the map she carefully studied, in 10 miles was a mountain with lots of turns. Right before it was a small village. 

“Get rid of the bigger caravans and I’ll take care of the two smaller cars. Do it quickly. There’s a village up ahead.” Y/n steadied the car as Steve nodded in understandment. Slowing the car down, Steve predicted his route as Natasha did the same. 

Once the enemies were close enough, the two hopped out of the car, each on a different caravan. Immediately, Steve used his shield to pierce the front left tire, causing the caravan to veer right into the woods. 

Steve hopped to the next caravan before it crashed. By now, multiple shots were being aimed at Steve, Natasha, and the car. 

“Keep us close. I need to help them,” Wanda stated. Y/n nodded as she tried her best to slow down at a safer speed for Wanda. Crawling to the back of the car, Wanda used her magic to fling a couple of enemies out of the cars. 

This ultimately assisted Natasha as she finally pierced her caravan’s tire. Instantaneously, the car crashed off the road, straight into a large pile of rocks. The assassin hopped off the caravan, aiming for the getaway car. 

Noticing the large gap, Y/n whipped closer to Natasha. Landing harshly on her side, Natasha groaned as Wanda held on to her arm, making sure she doesn’t fall off. “Are you trying to hit me with the car?” 

“It was the car or the ground, you choose,” Y/n quipped back. Had they been in a different situation, Natasha would have laughed but considering that the enemies were still shooting, she simply hustled back into the car. 

“Can Steve jump far?” The last caravan was close enough to continuously hit their back bumper. And with all the debris coming from the crashes, the sides were damaged. 

Before Wanda could answer, Steve jumped on top of the car as the caravan stopped into a halt, crashing into everything along with one of the smaller cars. Only one car remained. 

While Steve crawled back into the car and Wanda back in her spot, the village came passing by just on time. The mountain was right before them. 

Pushing the car into different gears, Y/n kept her eye on the rearview mirror as the car drifted through tight turns. The enemy car screeched behind them as it struggled to keep up through the turns. However, the straights were its friend. 

Up ahead was another set of turns, something Y/n already memorized in the back of her head. “Natasha, keep trying to shoot at them. I need something to distract their driver.” 

Pushing the getaway car to its limits, the turns proved hard for Natasha to hold on to, thankfully, Steve was holding on to her. “Aim for the driver’s view. It may be bulletproof but anything is better than nothing.” 

Natasha did as told, managing to aim perfectly even with all the wind rushing past her and the aimless turns up the hill. 

“We have a quarter mile left! Keep going at it!” Natasha emptied clip after clip as Wanda tended to her slight wound. Bullets came back towards their car, none created a single scratch on the car. 

Rounding the last turn, Y/n drifted perfectly to stall the car in place for a couple more seconds, allowing the enemy to catch up even closer. Keeping a couple seconds between them, Y/n pushed the car into gear, sending it through the last straight. 

“Get back in!” Y/n hardly gave Natahsa time as she pulled the car into the hard right. Before they knew it, Y/n had been driving backwards. In the next second, a grapple launched from the car, landing right on the enemy’s bumper. 

”Hold on!” Everything turned to a blur with how fast Y/n was reacting. Steve almost got whiplash and motion sickness from all the drifting and wild turns. Within the same second, Y/n used the momentum from the car to fling the enemy off towards the cliff. 

As the enemy hit the guard rail, it started to tumble through the air, pressing another button, the grapple released. Pulling up the handbrake, Y/n straighten the car back out onto the road. Driving away with a satisfied smile, Y/n was happy to see an explosion from the mirror. 

With a hand on Wanda’s thigh, the rest was smooth sailing for Y/n as she drove them to safety. 

The car arrived, smoke trailed from it’s path as Y/n continuously pushed it past its limit. While Steve was thankful to have arrived earlier than expected, the nauseous feeling in his stomach held his compliments back. 

The pair from the back quickly got out of the car, throwing a thankful smile to Y/n as they headed inside, ready to debrief about the meeting. 

Once they were out of sight, Wanda was quick to giggle. Nothing was particularly funny, but the redhead couldn’t help but laugh. Not really understanding what Wanda was laughing about, Y/n merely chuckled a little at how adorable Wanda looked. 

“Do you think your boss will be pissed about the state of the car?” Y/n joked. The driver could probably afford whatever car Fury provided, nonetheless, she wanted a good first impression. 

“I think,” Wanda placed a hand on Y/n’s cheek, a smile still evident on her face, “you did amazing today. I knew you were a great driver but I didn’t expect you to handle all the gunshots like it was nothing.” 

Y/n kissed Wanda’s palm, leaning in closer to her touch. “I think with all the superhero stuff happening, I’ve become immune to things like that.” Y/n shrugged as the pair got closer, faces nearly touching. “Plus it helps that I know my girlfriend would do anything to protect me.” 

Leaning in for a kiss, Y/n nearly groaned at how soft Wanda’s lips were. While this wasn’t their first kiss, the feeling of Wanda’s lips was something Y/n was never going to get used to. All the races, fast speeds, and fame was nothing compared to the feeling of kissing Wanda. Just the privilege alone made Y/n light headed with love. 

As Wanda slowly continued to kiss Y/n, her stomach grew with tightness, her mind numbing with stupid thoughts such as ‘what if I climbed over the console and I made out with her?’. While there would be absolutely no complaints from Y/n, Wanda knew they still had an audience. 

But god, Wanda couldn’t think when it came to kissing Y/n and they were hardly even making out. What was going to happen once they actually did have a heated make out session? Was she going to pass out? 

Regardless, the two pushed their limits on how long they could go without air. Soon, Wanda broke the kiss but she craved to kiss Y/n again. Not wanting to push her luck, Wanda pressed a couple pecks on Y/n’s lips, sealing the deal with one more long kiss. 

Leaning back in her seat, Wanda covered her mouth, enjoying the feeling of how plumped it was. Ultimately, she couldn’t hide the smile on her face as Y/n looked at her with adoration. “I’ve been wanting to kiss you this whole day.” 

Y/n grinned as she leaned over the center console, “We can still kiss all you want babe. Name the time and place and I’ll be there in minutes.” 

Wanda laughed as Y/n puckered her lips, ready to kiss again. Giving in to her girlfriend’s antics, Wanda cupped Y/n’s face and kissed her once more. 

Before it could go any deeper, Wanda broke it, causing Y/n to pout. “You can’t just hold your lips hostage like that.” 

“Well dekta, we’re still on a mission.” Y/n rolled her eyes at Wanda’s response. It was not a good enough reason to stop kissing. 

“Well babe, what if I told you I won my race today?” Y/n licked her lips, hoping it was enough to entice Wanda to kiss her again. 

“You won?! I’m sorry I couldn’t come and I tried watching the end but-”

“-just kiss me babe.” Y/n pulled Wanda for another kiss, not even caring that Wanda was unable to make it to her race. There were still multiple races to come and multiple opportunities for her to watch. But kissing Wanda was enough for Y/n. Everything else was just a bonus. 

By now, Wanda couldn’t hold back her moan as the kisses got deeper. Too busy in their own world, the pair didn’t notice Natasha approaching the car. 

The assassin rolled her eyes at the scene. Regardless, she knocked on the window. The two jumped from the unexpected sound. Their dilated eyes focused back at Natasha as Y/n rolled the window down. 

“Meeting starts in a minute. Say your goodbyes.” Without a response, Natasha walked back into the base. 

“Am I going to see you soon?” Wanda asked, feeling like a teenager asking when she was going to see her girlfriend again. 

“You will. I’ll make sure of it.” The blush on Wanda’s face deepened. She kissed Y/n one last time before exiting the car, knowing that if she stayed any longer, she would have been unable to leave.

Walking backwards to the base, Wanda waved goodbye. In normal Y/n fashion, she made donuts at the front of the base, before leaving. 

Once the dust settled, Natahsa came back out. “She was good.” 

Wanda turned around, giving Natasha a small smile. “Thank you.” 

“It’s gonna be nice working with her again.” The smile on Wanda’s face grew wider at the approval. 

As the two walked to the meeting, all Wanda could think about was her getaway driver.

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[v4voracity]

TOO CLOSE - SELF AWARE COD CHARACTERS X READER

⥇❥"Reader" is described as "feminine leaning" or "feminine sounding"; however, they/them and it/its pronouns are used and no bodily adjectives are used in this part because reader is only described as "that person" or "the voice". Let me know if I should make an alternate post(s) slightly adjusted for masculine or androgynous description, and if I missed any content warning tags. I plan on making a masculine version for this one due to someone's request, currently deciding if I should just slightly re-write to change descriptions or fully-rewrite it :)

  ⥇❥Word Count: 3940, excluding warnings and text above the cut.

⥇❥CONTENT WARNING FOR:

↪ body horror(?) ↪ usual “Darkfic” stuff,  ↪ yandere tendencies ↪ Angst™ ↪ possible OOC characters ↪ american author writing (mostly) british people

I totally plan on continuing this drabble with another part so some of the warnings aren't quite apparent yet teehee <3

Link to main masterlist - Link to TOO CLOSE sub-list

You have been warned, scroll at your own risk.

There was always that nagging feeling that Ghost was being watched, paranoia which he had long since grown accustomed to. But, there were always times he felt it… heighten, where this…  this strange sense of dejá vu seemed to take root in his mind. Sometimes, he felt like his movements weren't his own despite it being his will that moved those joints.

It occurred often after he joined the military, and occasionally, when in the quiet of his thoughts, he could hear something. At first, he thought it was a teammate coming through his comms, yet “the voice” wasn't familiar. 

He remembered when he first heard it. 

A quiet voice saying something he didn’t quite catch. He sighed, heavy and annoyed at himself, focusing a bit more on the radio firmly strapped to his chest as he pressed a button with a familiar practiced ease. Despite the fact he laid prone on the ground, hidden amongst foliage he had no trouble reaching it and speaking up. It was… slightly embarrassing that he lost focus and needed to repeat instructions, but he’d rather face slight embarrassment over fumbling an important mission because he didn’t want to ask for them to repeat what was said. Not that Simon “Ghost” Riley was afraid of dying. As a soldier he honestly felt more fearful that he’d fuck up a mission and get yelled at by a superior. That he’d hurt people he was trying to protect. That he’d prove that nagging voice in the back of his head right, the annoying doubtful little shit always lingering despite his confidence that had grown with experience. 

Regardless, he didn’t care to debate with himself about yet another experience that would keep him up at night, wallowing in his bed thinking about everything he could’ve done differently. “Say again?” He asked, cautious to remain quiet and hidden, yet gravely tone firm and clear enough for the other side of his line to hear. Yet no one on the other side of the line said anything previously, voicing their confusion when he asked them to repeat something never said.

Yet no other soul was around the precarious position he perched himself, his scope aimed at distant enemies. He even briefly glanced around, surveying his surroundings for possible danger, anyone, anything. Then “the voice” came through again, energetic and excited— far too unprofessional for how serious that mission was. ‘A recruit,’ he would’ve thought if not for the fact nobody else acknowledged it.

However, once the mission ended, that strange feeling faded, and “the voice” didn't appear again… 

…Until a few months later, on another mission.

The uncomfortable feeling of being watched, the almost foreign feeling of his own body, and “the voice” returned. His skin crawled.

 As if something had forcefully crept beneath it, lifting the skin and making itself comfortable in his body. Claiming it for itself as it burrowed deep into the muscular fiber, into his organs, and flowed in his veins in place of blood. It felt… parasitic and invasive. It disturbed him greatly how the feeling came and went suddenly without cause. Leaving him as it wished and then showing up without warning, without his permission. How it happened to him regardless of how steeled his nerves were. Of how experienced he became.

And, as he would soon find, no matter how intensely he looked around, nobody else was present. Yet “the voice”, which he had to strain to even remotely understand, seemed to respond as if they could see him based on the few words he could catch. 

“HOLY SHIT! He looks so cool, dude! Look at his fuckin’ rifle, his gear! This was so worth the wait. He’s got a new mask too! I’m so glad they brought him back, ugh, literally my favorite poster boy of the whole franchise.”

And if Ghost focused a little bit more, he'd notice it didn't quite sound right, as if it wasn't speaking aloud. “The voice” didn't echo around the room when he was inside, didn't echo through the air when he was outside, nor did it have the crackle of the radio. It was simply muffled, like if someone talked from a room over.

“...Uh, yeah, it was totally worth the fifty-freakin-bucks. Rent can wait, my war criminal pookies can’t! …Yes I know they’re probably not actual war criminals. Yeah, I KNOW they’re… man, you’re no fun. Let me simp in peace.”

Ghost knew he hadn't exactly been the… most sound of mind, but he truly began to worry he might have been hallucinating. “The voice” had been following him for an increasingly long amount of time at this point, and he mostly tuned it out. He recently found himself in a new group though, which led to a disturbing realization that he wasn’t fully insane. His worries about that were swiped away when Soap (his new sergeant who was a little too talkative for his own good, in Ghost’s opinion) ever-so-casually asked about “the voice” he overheard during the mission, which he couldn't quite recognize. Everyone in the helicopter was surprised on the ride back, anxiously discussing that faint voice they'd all heard— had been hearing on and off during missions. It gave Ghost a whole new fear.

It was no secret that a majority of the people in base and on missions with them were men, so that distinctly feminine voice being hard to pinpoint caused a new worry among the team. The potential breach of their communication network. The topic came up as an innocent question from Soap about who “the voice” was before everyone realized they all heard that voice, contradictory in how it sounded so near yet so far, so clear yet it hurt their heads to try and process what was said, clouding their minds in a haze if they tried focusing on it for too long.

It was a clear cause for concern. 

Their task force, Task Force 141, a highly-qualified team, who frequently had taken on missions even some of the most seasoned veterans would find difficult.

Their task force, carefully hand-picked from all corners and crevices of the globe, skills compared, packed like a puzzle to cover all fronts. Their identities and information taken apart and put back together, their secrets in the open to the prying eyes of Captain Price as he was given the authority to form a team. Personalities scrutinized against one another to ensure the utmost efficiency and dynamic interactions between teammates.

Their taskforce, the best of the best, highly efficient, a well oiled machine crafted with the utmost caution for the most risky, dirty, and sometimes immoral missions that most wouldn't be able to stomach. All for the betterment of the world and for the protection of their homes and countries.

And yet they couldn't find a single trail, not a single damn clue, about this… voice. "That voice" that came and went almost exclusively on missions, too. There were very, very few cases where it breached outside of missions. Truthfully, Ghost didn't know what he found worse. That the team heard it outside of missions where they didn't have radio communication, simply just out and about, or that it had breached past the sanctity of the missions, crossing into the supposed safe zone of their respective bases, homes, and private lives. Passing the line that they usually hide behind for comfort after rough missions, the place they went to lick their wounds, to reload their guns, and to confide in each other. And this thing, brash and bold came through, kicking that metaphorical line in the sand and bouncing past their defenses without repercussions.

It started in instances where they could ignore it. 

Where it could've been just their mind playing tricks or someone who sounded similar.

At first it was Soap, running around the track and hearing it faintly. He could've mistaken it for the music blaring through his ears if it wasn't for the fact he knew the lyrics by heart, and the singer sounded nothing like "that voice".

“Whoa, Soap cutscene. We’re being fed today. Get your bowls 'n spoons.”

He could’ve sworn he even heard a ‘clank’ of glass or something. It was worse when he realized his earbuds didn't block out “the voice” anymore than usual. It was always somewhat muffled and incoherent unless he focused, even in the quiet. Yet the earbuds in his ears didn't alter it at all. He took a longer shower than usual that day, trying to let the cold water shock him enough to forget what he heard while thoughts ran wild in his head… It ended with him being slightly late to an important team meeting and getting assigned some training as punishment. He chose to keep why he was late a secret, not wanting to startle anyone about “the voice” or sound crazy.

Then it was Gaz. Friendly, slightly more inexperienced than the rest, Gaz. Gaz was on temporary time off, having accidentally pulled a muscle in his arm. He was simply walking through the streets of a nearby town where he had rented a flat. He rarely actually used the thing, since he spent most of his time at base and it was more convenient to use the barracks. Nevertheless, he still found himself in the quaint little town, going for groceries to stock his apartment's fridge. He was weaving through the streets when he heard that odd and unrestrained laugh, snorting and uncaring if it's an embarrassing laugh. 

“Gaz… my pookie-wookie, my cutie-patootie, my absolute ray of sunshine… WHOMST THE FUCK IS DRESSING YOU LIKE THAT?!”

He probably looked like a madman with how frantically he looked around, suddenly stiffened and still as some people complained behind him from how abruptly he stopped, causing them to bump into him. Yet nothing conclusive, he couldn’t even figure out the direction it came from, much less find out who it came from. He didn’t bother talking about it, only loosely mentioning it later when it came up in a discussion.

After that it was Price and Laswell. The two of them standing in a surprisingly mundane office in the base, not expecting much when that bold-fucking-voice echoed through both of their ears. Something about being a homewrecker? They… didn’t know. 

“Laswell!!! Man I wish they had her appear more often, she’s so cool… I’d totally marry her if she didn’t have a wife… What do you mean you’d become a homewrecker in seconds? Have some fuckin’ respect for the woman. Besides I thought you liked Price? He’s… single? I think?”

But it forced both of them to lose their casual mood from before, because they both heard it and neither of them knew what to think about the fact that they were hearing it outside of missions now. That… that was very bad.

The last straw was when Ghost was handing spare masks to the team when there's a faint comment about it. He can't quite hear it, can't quite wrap his mind around what's being said. No one ever seems to make out the words; at least not fully. As if there's a barricade between them and “the voice”. A veil yet to be ripped away to reveal the person underneath. A blockade made to infuriate them and taunt their attempts.

“How many do you think he has?”

A small silence follows the initial voice, as if waiting for a response, then followed with a giggle. A response unheard to his ears, to anyone’s ears. The others tense, hearing "the voice", but no one comments on it at the moment. They had a mission to get to. But they all knew they needed to do something when they got back.

“They probably do smell. They’re out there hiding in grass, getting bloody and sweaty, sometimes deployed for a month, so they definitely stink.”

And yet nothing came of that either. The only thing that changed is that they were all aware of this voice that seemed to follow them. That only their taskforce ever seemed to hear or acknowledge it. That "the voice" came from everywhere and nowhere all at once, sounding as if it was being broadcasted directly to their brains. No trace of this thing only they could perceive, and they started coming to conclusions that were less than rational; because rational thought hadn’t gotten them anywhere thus far. Gaz suggested it might’ve been a ghost, to which Price corrected that it must be a demon rather than a ghost, Soap suggested it was some weird matrix shit, then Laswell tried to convince everyone it was some weird shared delusion. They couldn’t settle on any theories. Ghost didn’t need an explanation. Or at least, he tried convincing himself that, tried telling himself he just needed this thing gone.

These abrupt drop-ins by “the voice” went on for a long while. Something they regrettably got used to. Something they let fester and become a part of them, even if they didn't know it. “That voice” ingrained into their brains, the elated giggles, the annoyed groans, the triumphant cheers, the frequent queries, answers to questions they never heard, stupid comments, everything in-between... 

Ghost didn't notice at first. Time went on, the Task Force's missions increasing after they bombed General Ghorbrani during an arms deal Ghost intercepted. Things were escalating into a silent war the general populace wouldn’t notice, and likely never know about, kept quiet and under wraps to keep the waters calm. The voice lingering on every damn mission, somehow with all of them at once even if they were in different corners of the globe. 

Then he had a wave of realization wash over him.

It was an easy mission compared to the previous few. An easy in-and-out. Just him and Soap, watching a building from afar. Biding their time. He felt anxious, a long gone twitch in his fingers resurfacing as he felt his fingers become clammy beneath his gloves. 

He had to stay calm, stay cool. He was ‘Ghost’ right now, a walking dead-man without weakness. He was strong. This mission was easy. 

This was no time to be antsy. Patience, he reminded himself. It was just him coming down from the high of adrenaline of the previous missions, all fast paced and requiring frequent combat. That's what he tried to tell himself, when that bloody Scotsman casually began chattering over the radio.

Jokes, bad ones, yet jokes he shared an enthusiasm for with Soap nonetheless. Ghost could tell there was a slight edge to his voice as he spoke though, equally antsy. He may have been somewhat distant but he was perceptive. Picked up on behaviors in others. Read them and their emotions. It was necessary in his job, and he was sure Soap probably picked up on his nervousness as well, as he was smart, even if he sometimes seemed a little air-headed and brash at times.

"No laughs from 'that person' today?" Soap feigned offense. Then they both realized. They were anxious from the lack of that person. “The voice”. They obviously didn't know who it was or their name, but everyone on the force knew who was being referred to when someone said 'that person' or “the voice”.

 It felt laughable that they were startled by some incorporeal voice not being there. If anything, they should be grateful they were spared its presence. Yet they weren’t. Ghost laid in his bed that night, sleepless, a common occurrence for him. But tonight instead of the nightmares that played when he closed his eyes, he just… contemplated. Brooding.

It was a few nights later when he came to terms with it. He knew some things were wrong with him, hell, most soldiers had something wrong with them if they worked as long as he did. But, he found himself.. weirdly fine with it. It seemed some of his teammates felt the same way as he did, and others did not. Soap made jokes out of it, unafraid around other Task Force members to refer to “the voice”, sometimes speaking directly at it, most of the time not getting much in terms of responses. There was only really one time he could make out something from “the voice” in response to one of Soap’s direct words towards it.

“That line… didn't play last time I played this one.”

It was probably one of the only things he could make the full sentence out of, and it seems everyone else on the team heard it fairly clearly as well. “...‘That line?’” Price repeated, quizzical. Referring to it like a game. 

“Must… Must be an easter egg.” A nervous laugh followed. 

The next time he found himself on a mission with that strange feeling, as if he weren’t himself, as if something else willed his way… There was almost complete silence. Unusual, a first for that sinking feeling to be there without any noise. He noticed after the missions were over that only when he had that uncomfortable feeling was "the voice" responsive. 

“Not talkative today?” He asked, not really to anything in particular and not expecting any sort of response. He could almost intuitively tell whatever “the voice” was, was there. He was again alone for this mission and that probably was what gave him the confidence to actually speak to it. He wasn’t worried about anyone hearing him and sounding crazy. And the response? Well, it was hard to hear, almost inaudible to him, but he heard a small gasp, and a shaky breath afterwards. 

…That was probably the first time the weird feeling left his body mid-mission. As if it was the one unsettled when every time it appeared, he and his teammates felt out of control, a passenger in their own body, hazed and moving as if puppets. Hearing a voice that lacked a body, floating around and seemingly coming from nowhere. It had no echo, no substance or matter, as if the sound didn't vibrate through the air.

And it was a while before he, or anyone, heard that lovely— 

…“The voice” again. He was careful not to directly reference it. Them.

Ghost thought about it some more, and found himself talking to Gaz one night at the pub, Soap hammered, currently in the bathroom while Price tried to help him to get stable enough to get to the rented car so the four of them could return to base. “Maybe Soap wasn’t too far off with the Matrix idea.” Gaz idly swirled his cup, almost devoid of liquid and only really clinking the ice in it around. He wasn’t really talking to Ghost in particular, more-so rambling to the air and himself due to him being tipsy.

Ghost leaned back in the booth, his mask barely lifted enough to allow him to drink a bourbon he’d been nursing half the night. Didn’t want a hangover the next day, he’d already be in a bad mood since he had recruits to train and they were often stupid and infuriating. “Yeah? How so?” 

Gaz, who seemed to not really mean anything when he initially spoke, sat up straighter, more zoned in on the conversation upon seeing his Lieutenant had taken an interest in what he was saying. “I was thinking about some of the things I’ve heard, that the others have heard, and just… the reactions in general. And that feeling… I don’t know if you get it but—”

“Like you’re possessed.” He interjected, knowing what he meant. Gaz’s eyes widened slightly. While they all knew about “the voice”, it seems none of them knew that weird feeling was shared. The feeling of being possessed, watched, almost like they were prey, not highly experienced military men capable of defending themselves and others. He nodded and drank the rest of his bourbon, setting it down on the table and looking back to Gaz, tucking his mask back down over his face.

“It’s just like… Like they’re playing a game. Controlling us. The reactions… It's like when you complete an objective or something. And it’d explain the feeling, like we’re controlled. Plus with how they reacted to Soap that one time, I could see it.”

“See it? The hell you seein’?” He didn't want to believe his life was a game. But Gaz made some good points. Ghost… No, Simon didn't play many games. He’d played a few party games with his team during off-time, Price convincing them that Mario-Kart was in fact a good team-bonding activity and absolutely necessary. But his off time wasn’t usually spent playing games, it just wasn’t something he could relax enough to do, never able to get calm enough to focus solely on said game.

“Imagine you’re playing a game—”

“Hard to imagine.” He barks, slightly sorry at the tone, though he wouldn’t correct himself.

Gaz sighs and continues. “Okay, imagine that it's team bonding night, and we’re playing Mario Party. Imagine everyone having a good time, laughing, chatting, playing the game, when Mario turns directly to the screen and acknowledges you. Like, unprompted, never happened before when you’ve played the game hundreds of times before? You’d probably be a little freaked out if you knew it wasn't the type of game to do something like that.”

Price interrupts, Soap slung over his shoulder and motions for them to head out to the car after he pays for the tab. Once everyone is in the car, Gaz continues.

“It’s just, the shit they said made me think about it. ‘That line’, ‘last time I played this one’, hell, them directly talking about us talking to them as an ‘easter egg’ makes it seem pretty clear to me.” Price glanced over, raising a brow at Gaz, who was sitting in the front passenger as He drove. Ghost was unfortunately stuck with a very clingy Soap in the back seat. “It’s clear whatever they were referencing is similar to a game, one they’ve played before. “

“You talking about ‘that person’? ‘The voice’?” Price sighs, slightly exasperated at the topic. He wasn’t quite convinced about "the voice" being real. He was still slightly in denial, but his slight intoxication must’ve allowed him to continue listening to the topic, not shutting down Gaz’s line of thought quite yet.

“You see what I mean though? If you were playing a game and the character you were playing just randomly acknowledges you out of nowhere, suddenly fucking sentient, you’d probably be scared shitless, especially if they’re a normal civilian.” Price hums, and Ghost blinks slowly, taking the information in and moving away from partaking in the conversation. The reaction was pretty akin to the one from when he was alone and spoke to “the voice”.

“Who’d wanna play a game involving the shite we do? We’re a bunch of soldiers doing unsavory work, I doubt that’s entertaining.” Price shakes his head, gripping the wheel a little tighter, his knuckles slightly turning white before he relaxes his hand with a sigh.

“Maybe not to us since it’s real-life. But think about it like this, a ton of people watch horror movies or slasher films. It’s not that they enjoy watching people die or get scared, but it’s like… an adrenaline thing. And you know when ‘that person’ appears most? On missions.”

This time, nobody responded. Gaz didn’t bother continuing either, already having made his point clear. An uncomfortable air settled in the car, not even forgotten the next day, even Soap somehow was capable of remembering the conversation despite the fact his head was reeling and his stomach turning in the backseat of the car.

This time they had settled on a theory.

[lady-raziel]

ALSO although i'm sure people are so fucking sick of hearing my thoughts by this point, I'd like to shut down the idea that because this essentially happened over the weekend that should excuse the lack of response (since watcher doesn't work weekends or so i've heard). look, i'm a person who totally supports a work-life balance and leaving work at the office. nobody deserves to be on call 24/7. that's not healthy and it doesn't make anyone more effective at their job.

however. there is a difference between logging out from a normal workday and logging out after you've just dropped a huge announcement that you've been hyping up, and doing so on a Friday afternoon before a tour. if a brand crisis occurs outside of work hours on a perfectly normal day, there's a little more leeway in not jumping on it right away as opposed to a time when you absolutely should be monitoring digital response, if only to pick out your favorite memes and posts to share on your socials (in the alternate universe where this subscription service move went really well and everyone loved it). not knowing what's going on at a time when you shouldn't be expected to know what's going on is pretty different than doing nothing when you absolutely should be watching for company news outside of normal hours.

all that being said, even in the first case where something bad happens that you need to take action on outside of work hours, waiting until Monday morning to do anything while the problem gets worse, particularly in a case like this with so much on the line, would get pretty much every comms or PR person I know severely reprimanded or fired. yes, you have a set work schedule each week. but in the end your job is to protect the brand, and you don't get to decide when threats come at you. your job is to formulate a response as soon as you know there's a problem. if you don't do that? you don't have a job anymore.

i say this with the full knowledge that watcher likely doesn't have a full "director of communications" role that entails reputation management on staff. They have a social media manager, yes, but full on corporate communications and all this other stuff really isn't (and shouldn't be!) that person's job description. (as a person who's worked as a social media manager i have a lot of thoughts about how other roles get smushed into that one and how that's not good for anyone, but that's another post.)

is it possible that watcher has contracted an outside firm to do PR/communications? sure. but in that case, a professional firm would ABSOLUTELY be on call over the weekend to help a client. that would literally be part of the fee paid to them. if they are paying a firm, and that firm hasn't helped them formulate a response and gotten it out by now, then they need to fire that group immediately. and also factor this into the conversation about money management if they've been paying a firm (none of which are cheap!) and getting such a horrible return on investment.

long story short, if your office building caught fire over the weekend, would you wait until Monday morning to do something? even if you don't own a fire extinguisher? even if you don't have a local fire department you can call? even if you were the one who set the building on fire? no-- because by then you might not even have an office anymore. emergencies aren't 9-to-5 problems.

[sofiaruelle]

Oh wow, I was not expecting a whole drawing of them trying the dance and falling around. It's very beautifully done, I rmmbr just staring in awe for a while at first 🩵

I have another odd question about the she trio/ass gang, which u don't have to draw

Cause I saw a little video of Harvey going hard; dancing to MiseryxCPR(xReese's Puffs) and it had me laughing for a long while, and I wondered who would be the ones singing the song if say the stardrop saloon had some kind of karaoke night

My head tells me both Sam and Abagail would end up doing Reeses's puffs, but that would leave one of the other songs without a host :/

Harvey would probably end up saying stuff about how cpr doesn't require mouth-to-mouth anymore or smthn, and Shane probably worried Marnie would walk in-or just, too drunk off his ass having fun to care 🤔

nah man i just have to draw them. and oh look I even have another essay under readmore! 😂 😂 😂 😂 😂

✨Also my commissions are open! ✨ if anyone is interested! :D< please reblog/share the og comm sheet ,if you can! it would help me a lot thank you!!!

Honestly i can imagine them all just being pissed drunk before attempting to sing the song😂. i know fersure the SHE trio would require more liquid courage for it (heck even to join/start a kareoke sesh!)

Shane gives of major Kareoke Tito (uncle) vibes~. Yknow that one tito who specifically sings “My Way” by Frank Sinatra and has a bunch of classic rock songs under his belt. He’s not good at singing perse but he can at least carry a tune. He and Sebastian would totally connect with singing Misery. but like Shane vaguely knows the song (he’s heard it on radio a bajillion times but he doesnt know the name of the song so its not quite on his playlists) so he when he’s super sloshed and can barely read the screen, he tries to sing it from memory and misses a couple of the words. but hey! at least he knows the chorus and is in tune.

Meanwhile Sebastian has Misery “secretly” on his go to playlist. He doesnt admit it (the songs is too main stream and overplayed but he stumbled upon a vocaloid cover and rest is history.) He definitely always chooses the song every kareoke sesh (although not his first choice) and he’s passionate about it even has a little performance too(lots of head bangs, fist pumps and that classic 2000s disney knees bent together, feet wide apart moment)! For his duet with shane he’s the first to shed a lil tear and that gets shane going and they cry through most of the song in their own lil misery world ignoring the chaos around them.

Sam is a fucking menace for singing CPR and I do agree He and Abigail would go off on Reese’s Puff BUT i can definitely imagine being commited to singing CPR (we all know he’d awkwardly twerk). Especially if it was to troll on Harvey who probably thought it was a wholesome song about doing CPR at a specific BPM. 😂

Harvey good lird poor harvey! He’s probably the most sober out of everyone. It doesnt help that he’s no light weight + lowkey becomes designated baby sitter everytime (he’s soooooooo going charge them extra in the morning if they come stumbling into his clinic asking for some hangover cure). He was so excited about adding a new song to CPR tempo list he was gonna teach at the nex first aid classes!! Who would have thought that a singer with a cute wholesome name like Cupcakke was just so… sooooo SCANDALOUS!!! He should have known Sam was up to something the moment he grabbed him by the shoulder!!! “This is medical malpractice, Samson!!!” He spends the whole trying to sush Sam who’s having so much fun laughing at Harvey’s reaction 😂

Abigal. F e r a l.

Help! Elliot has fallen over! He honestly just has a mild peanut allergy but he has been drinking and hooo boi. thats not good. thank goodness Harvey is sobered up (with the help of Sam ofc) and has an epipen on hand! Catch Leah cackling from her seat by the bar before assisting Harvey.