#I swear I'm working on comms too | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

magicalmanhattanproject · 3 months

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man im just like. thinking about egg signs and how they've evolved over the course of the qsmp and how the qsmp has evolved over the course of the qsmp and just feeling so much love and affection for every part of the project. i dont have any grand overarching point with this just. like. here's a history of egg comms bc of the kind of person that i am

so wayyyy back ten months ago now at the start of the short and sweet egg event that was planned to last maybe a month at most, the eggs had their own custom, decorated signs!

[ID: Leo with a pink sign with an egg on the bottom corner that reads "hello" in all caps. Her nametag reads Leonardo. End ID]

They were extremely simple, single word signs. There was hello, hola, story, feed, sleep, and maybe one or two more and each was its own separate sign. The eggs could only communicate the most basic needs in words and everything else was through minecraft body language or just hoping their parents guessed right.

But obviously, there was a lot more that parents wanted to hear from their children. I'm not sure who was actually first, but the earliest departure from this system I know about is BadBoyHalo giving Dapper a simple oak sign so he could name his pet slime. (Screenshot from @/lxrd-ren)

[ID: Dapper wearing a diver's helmet standing next to a tiny slime in a boat with an oak sign reading "Bouncy (slmecicle but better)" End ID]

Parents quickly realized how much more convenient this was and pretty soon every single egg had stacks of signs to communicate with.

The next innovation came from Vegetta, who was the resident mod knower at the time. He knew about colored canvas signs and gave Leo signs in her favorite color purple because he loved her and gave her everything she wanted.

[ID: Leo's bed in her room under some Fooligetta fanart with a purple sign reading "<3" End ID]

Colored signs obviously had a lot of advantages. Being able to tell at a glance which egg placed which sign was a huge step forward in eggs being able to have long, complicated conversations as well as leaving obvious marks of their personality everywhere they went. It took a little while for them to be standard for every egg though. Bobby never stopped using oak signs even after Richas and Pomme both showed up with colored signs.

[ID: Two signs reading from right to left a red Pomme sign reading "we already started working on a guillotine factory" and a dark grey Dapper sign reading "thats the most french u have said so far pomme" End ID]

And this was the system for a while! And it worked pretty well for most people! The biggest struggle most people had was egg signs not being translated, but streamers adjusted to that by reading signs out loud so the translators would pick up on them. This also lead to adorable and fascinating dynamics like Richas swearing in signs he wrote for Bad and then warning Bad not to read them out. There was also the genuinely phenomenal development of Leolingo where Leo writes only in Spanish to Foolish because it's easier for her to write and he takes his time to puzzle his way through it and learn in a way that's super cool to watch someone else do onscreen.

Then Tubbo joined the server. And Tubbo himself had no problems at all with the system, but he is dyslexic and he casually mentioned offhand that it was getting kind of annoying to read signs after a ten hour long stream and the admin team Fucking Cooked.

Within 24 hours, they had TTS working on the signs. Within 48 hours, it was working on books too. I can't remember how long it took to get translation working, but it was definitely under a week.

And this opened up a whole new world of possibilities for the entire QSMP. The admin team has been on top of capitalizing on it for story purposes, but also just allowing the egg admins to speak in their native languages to everyone whenever they want has been so enriching for everyone involved. Leolingo is awesome but Foolish has been learning Spanish insanely fast and his process is a lot slower and more frustrating than most people can do in front of an audience of thousands of people without feeling discouraged. That's also one language. We've had everything from Foolish being able to check his work a bit more faster to Phil insisting on his eggs taking a day to speak to him in their native languages to Ramón writing a book for Fit in Cantonese, a language we haven't even seen on the server in any other context!

And all of it is fully understood and fully communicated! Sometimes the translators mess up but no one expects them to be perfect and people ask for clarification if the translator says something that doesn't sound right. It's not only a massive step forward in communication technology, but it's a great demonstration of how to use it and when you can and can't rely on it.

And finally, the most recent innovation! One of BBH's viewers sent him a dono saying they had trouble reading certain signs because they were too low-contrast. Bad, Richas, and Pomme just. Took it upon themselves to fix the problem right there and then. Based on One (1) bringing up their own personal struggle, those three came up with new signs that innovate tremendously on the originals.

[ID: Two separate images of the before and after. The first is the egg signs in their original colors with the corresponding egg's name written on them to demonstrate the font color and the second is in the new, higher contrast colors with the same text. The new signs also have custom decorations for each egg. The second picture also has two signs from Pomme in all caps that read "Send all the love to Richas he spent a whole night making this he's the best <3" End ID]

There are three main innovations visible in the above pictures

1: Obviously, the colors are higher contrast. The signs with white text have darker colors and the signs with black text have lighter colors.

2: The colors themselves are lower saturation. Richas said this made it easier for him personally to read them so he corrected that way, but that's open to change if it causes difficulties for more people than it helps

3: The decorations are for accessibility reasons! People with various different forms of colorblindness will find different sets of colors easier or harder to distinguish, but any of them can look at the decorations and use them to identify whose sign is whose instead.

But! Those innovations are not why I made this post! It's these ones!

[ID: The backs of the new signs when placed on the ground. Most visible are Chayanne's with vines and a hardcore heart, Sunny's with shining sunglasses, and Pomme's with an apple and the Eiffel Tower. End ID]

Richas added distinguishing marks to the backs of the signs too! This is something that Bad brought up specifically as something he wanted because it was hard for him to tell who was talking when he was using TTS from behind signs and couldn't see the colors at all.

We went from custom egg signs (a hotbar or so of words and nothing else to communicate with) through a long journey of expanding communication and expanding who we're bringing along on the communication and how easily they can join in and we've circled all the way back around to custom egg signs (they can say anything they want in any language they want and anyone will know it's them saying it from any angle)

and i guess i have enough feelings abotu that to write All This about it

#sorrelposting #qsmp

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nerdpoe · 7 months

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Danny decides to open a haunted house for Halloween-in Gotham. For kicks. He reserves the opening night for the Bats and only the Bats. The Bats do not have a choice in this.

They all wake up in the haunted house.

Their rogues, who had big plans, also wake up in the haunted house-but they don't get the toned down spooky version Danny's working on for potential customers that he's doing a test-run with via Bat testers.

No, the Rogues are locked in the basement with the ghosts of everyone they've killed.

Danny's got Tucker running the cameras, Sam helping coordinate the Ghosts, and Danny himself is running the actual spooky bits.

In theory, it's the perfect haunted house.

The best way to test it though, he feels, is against heroes that face scary things every day.

So.

Red Hood walking down a hallway, sees feet dangling from the ceiling. But there's a convenient beam blocking their view, so he strides up just as the feet vanish-and that's a solid wooden ceiling.

There's a note with a smiley face.

"Please rate your haunting experience on a scale of one to ten! :)"

Robin sees a shadow, and he chases it. And chases it. And chases it. And foolishly he somehow manages to let it lead him to a dead end-only when he turns around, the shadow is in the door.

And it's just a being made of pure shadow, with elongated limbs, breathing with a horrible wet rasp as it stares down at him.

Then it disappears.

In it's place, there's a note.

"Please rate your haunting experience on a scale of one to ten! :)"

Red Robin hears Batman call out for him to look something over, so he goes into the room.

Batman isn't there.

Batman's voice whispers in his ear from behind.

"Never thought you'd fall for that~"

The door slams shut.

Red Robin turns to open it, but it won't open. Not even if he picks the lock.

The floor creaks, and when he turns around he sees Batman standing right there-only for him to dissolve piece by piece.

In the puddle of weird green goo, there's a note.

"Please rate your haunting experience on a scale of one to ten! :)"

Bruce is in what looks like a child's room.

The temperature drops, and he braces for a supernatural event, because this is clearly what's going on.

The air stands still-and every single toy's head snaps to look at him.

They open their mouths and scream, green goo gargling up and spilling out of their lips.

The lights cut out, then they come back on; and the toys are all arranged around him in a peculiar pattern.

There's a note at his feet.

His lips quirk up against his will.

"Please rate your haunting experience on a scale of one to ten! :)"

Nightwing knows he's being fucked with.

He knows it.

He recognizes the room he's in-it was in the pamphlet for the new haunted house opening in Gotham. He'd really wanted to go, actually, but he was kinda sad he didn't have anyone with him.

He wanted it to be a family outing.

But from what it looks like, this is probably a test run. No ones emergency beacons have gone off, and there's only swearing in the comms cut through with mild amusement on Bruce's part.

Ugh, he doesn't want spoilers! He wants to go through it for the first time with everyone else!

"Hey, um, I was actually planning to come here with my family! I don't really want to be spoiled on anything, so can I skip this? And can I have anyone you haven't tested it on skip it too? Cuz they're probably friends or family and I want to be on the same knowledge level of what to expect."

The air itself seems to pause.

"Ah, shit, I'm sorry man. I didn't even think of that; I'll pull Spoiler and Signal before we start their runs."

Nightwing turns towards the intercom and waves cheerfully.

"I mean, we'd definitely be down to walk through the house tonight, but I want to do it in a group so we can laugh at each other."

"Oh, for sure, I just got too caught up in the 'creepy' part of the haunted house. The exit is hidden in the wall to your left, just pick up the rotary phone and it should pop out."

"Alright, I'll be waiting for them at the front!"

@simplestoryteller

#dpxdc #dcxdp #dp x dc #dc x dp #story prompt #phanfic #danny and co own and run a year-long haunted house in gotham #rogues are afraid to go anywhere near it #it becomes the most successful haunted house in the usa #it actually creates a tourism factor for gotham besides people wanting to see the “most crime ridden city ever”#danny and dick get along great #and after things settle he works with the bats (without knowing their civvie identities) to make it better #bruce is highly amused by the whole thing #the fact that during halloween it's basically gotham rogue daycare really helps with that #long post #ficlet

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roosterforme · 6 months

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Always Ever Only You Part 15 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Bradley had some explaining to do. After the most perfect weekend, you were afraid he was trying to hide information from you again. But Bradley didn't hold back when he told you what happened and what he was concerned about.

Warnings: Angst, swearing, fluff, smut, mentions of cancer

Length: 4600 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

This was written to accompany my series Is It Working For You? along with a bunch of my one-shots and other series, but it can be read on its own! Check my masterlist for the reading order. Always Ever Only You masterlist. Gorgeous banner by @mak-32

Your hands were shaky as you tried to call Bradley. You didn't understand what was going on, and you were pissed off that the first time you were hearing about him being involved with two people who were being court-martialed was through an email. You hated calling him when there was a chance he was in the air, but if that was the case, then his phone should be off.

Just as you were about to tap his contact in your phone, Bickel came rushing into the lab, arms full of folders. "Delete that email," he told you, out of breath. "The one from Yates. You weren't supposed to see it."

You looked up at him as you slid your phone down onto the counter. "Well, I did see it, sir," you whispered. "I don't even know what's going on."

"Neither do I," he responded gently, setting the folders down in a haphazard pile. "But I don't want your login credentials attached to this in any way. Whatever happened should stay out of your hands since your husband was involved with the special detachment. I'll take care of it. Understand?"

You started to nod, and then you said, "But, sir. Why am I getting emails from Admiral Yates?"

Your boss sighed and checked his watch. He looked frantic, and now you were really getting nervous for whatever must have happened during Bradley's deployment. But Bickel's words and the way he smiled kindly at you even though you could tell he was stressed out meant a lot.

"Because if you haven't noticed, you're second in command around here. Maybe not officially. Yet. But I rely on you for a lot of things, and everyone else in the group does, too. And your work is always spot on."

You felt tears prickle behind your eyes, and you had to look away from him as you muttered, "Thank you." But of course your eyes settled back on your computer screen and the email.

"Delete the email," he repeated, and you knew he wasn't going to say it kindly a third time. So you did as your commanding officer told you to and watched the email soar into your trash can, and from there you deleted it permanently. "I'll take care of it myself so you know it's done correctly. I will pull the comms and verify the coding so you don't have to question whether or not the information being sent over has been properly validated. I don't want you worrying about this right now."

"But you'll need someone else to verify everything with you, sir," you whispered.

He nodded and closed your computer softly. "I'm just on my way to talk to Lieutenant Coleman about it. She's more than competent. She and I can sign off on it and get it ready tonight. You're dismissed for the day."

And that was it. Not another word. He picked up the folders and walked over to where Cat was sitting in front of her computer wearing the expensive headphones that were used to occasionally play back communications and check aircrafts for audio clarity. And Bickel interrupted her. It was kind of an unspoken rule that you didn't interrupt someone who was wearing the state of the art headphones.

Cat jumped in her seat before giving Bickel her full attention. After a few seconds, her eyes met yours, and then she agreed with whatever he was telling her. You quietly stood and picked up your computer and headed for your office.

You were the only one in your group with a private office other than Commander Bickel himself. Sure, yours was roughly a quarter of the size of his, and it had a view of the parking lot and a brick wall, but it was yours. And you were his number two. You really wanted to be able to enjoy that fact, but you'd been dismissed. Probably so he could talk about the court-martialing. And you figured that by now, Bradley would be wrapped up in these proceedings as well.

You shoved all your stuff into your desk drawer and grabbed your keys. This morning had started off so beautifully: making out with your husband followed by an overpriced drink from Starbucks that he made sure was ready for you to pick up.

When you opened your door to leave, Cat was standing there about to knock. "Yes?" you asked her, feeling like everyone must know what was going on now besides you.

"I just wanted to catch you before you left," she replied slowly. "I read the email from Yates. I promise I'll double and triple check everything even if I'm here all night."

"Thanks," you whispered, hoping you could trust her with this. You felt like somehow Bradley's integrity was tied to that audio.

Cat fiddled with her hands as she said, "It's my job, but you're also my friend." And then she turned on her heel and walked away so quickly, you couldn't really respond if you wanted to.

When you stumbled out of the elevator in the lobby, Jake was right there. "Have you seen Bradley?" you asked him, but he gathered you up in his arms and started to dance and spin you around in front of the main entrance.

"Sure haven't. He's been locked away with Maverick all afternoon. Phoenix and Bob, too," he replied easily. "But guess who's going out with Cat tonight. Just take one guess, Angel."

"Oh," you gasped as he dipped you. Then you pressed your lips together, afraid to tell him that Cat and Commander Bickel would probably be verifying codes for the next several hours at least.

He pulled you back to standing as he said, "Hang on, that's my phone." Jake pulled it out of his pocket and read the text message he received. "Shit. Cat cancelled on me."

"Jake-" But you stopped. You knew you shouldn't be talking about the special mission apparently gone wrong, but he looked so disappointed. He'd been wanting to go on an actual date with her for months, not just making out in the rec room.

When he spoke, his voice was bland and monotone. "She's blaming it on working late. Meanwhile it looks like you're leaving early, so I'm not buying it." Then he laughed sardonically. "I was going to take her to a movie tonight, and then on Friday I was hoping Jeremiah could tag along on another date. I found a kid-friendly restaurant for dinner."

When you reached for his hand, he just shook his head. "Jake. Don't get upset with her, okay?"

He ran his hand through his hair as he walked away. "I need to get back to the hanger. Later, Angel."

You hated today. You wanted answers, and then you wanted to go to bed. And it annoyed you that you still wanted Bradley to read you to sleep from his notebook when he was the one who hadn't given you any details about his deployment, even though you had asked. Multiple times.

When you pulled your car into the driveway, you realized Bradley wouldn't be home for at least an hour. You wanted to act normal about this and start making dinner or doing something productive, but you were starting to wonder if he was hiding information from you again, just like the sperm test results. And that was enough to make you lose your appetite. You hurried inside, and Tramp followed you to the couch where you sat and took some deep breaths. The realization that you should have just stayed on base and had a discussion with Dr. Genevieve washed over you, and you were afraid you were going to cry.

You wrapped your arms around Tramp and waited, and it actually didn't feel like too much time had passed when you heard the Bronco pull into the driveway. When the front door opened, Bradley looked surprised to see you.

"You're home," he said softly, closing the door behind him. When you just nodded and clung to Tramp, Bradley pressed his lips together. "I take it you heard about the....mishap?"

"Mishap?" you asked, finally scrambling to your feet as Tramp ran to Bradley. "That's what you're calling it? All I know is that I asked you all weekend to tell me about your deployment, but you didn't. And then today I got an email with your name and credentials listed underneath a docket number for two officers who are being court martialed."

Bradley bent to pet Tramp without taking his eyes off yours. "You're right. You did ask me several times, but Sweetheart, the weekend was so perfect. I didn't want to ruin it by talking about work."

You rubbed the heels of your hands against your eyes. "You were gone for eight weeks, Bradley. That's not the same as discussing a regular day at work. And clearly something absolutely insane happened! What are you trying to hide from me now?"

The rosy pink of his cheeks faded away as a look of pure panic filled his handsome features. "Nothing. There's nothing to hide. I just thought we'd talk about it today. I had no idea everything was going to blow up like it did."

You threw your hands up in the air, and you hated how shrill your voice sounded. "Is everything even okay?"

"Yes," he insisted, closing the distance to you and wrapping his arms around your body, enveloping you in his warmth. "Everyone who left the carrier deck made it back to the carrier deck."

Apparently you'd been holding your breath, because you were finally able to let it out. "Good," you whispered, burying your face in his neck. "That email made me feel physically sick."

"I'm sorry, Baby Girl," Bradley rasped next to your ear before kissing your temple. "If I knew everything was going to happen so fast, I would have taken some time out of the weekend to talk about it. But being back home with you and spending time as just us was really the only thing on my agenda."

You didn't stop him when he guided you toward the bedroom and started to unbutton and unzip you out of your uniform. And you let him pull his UVA shirt over your head and guide you into bed. And then you watched him strip down to his underwear before he picked up Tramp and climbed in with you. "Here's what happened," he said, pulling you close.

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

Bradley felt a little awkward detailing what went down in the air with Slayer for you. It was an odd thing to recount it to someone who wasn't an aviator, but you just held him tight and asked questions when you needed clarification. But the way you gasped when Bradley told you he was the spare made him feel somewhat validated.

"The spare? This Admiral Dean asshole named you the spare?" You went shooting up in the bed, indignation flashing in your eyes as you pointed at him. "You're not the spare! You're the main event. You'd never treat a mission like it was your own little game where other people's lives didn't fucking count for anything!"

Bradley could tell he was blushing as he said, "Nat and Bob were directly in danger when I got called to the catapult."

Now you were standing on your knees looking straight up furious. "What did you do?!"

He ran his hand along his mustache and whispered, "I just... dealt with it. I don't know. You know I don't like talking about air to air kills. Nat and Bob were leaking fuel to the point where I was convinced they wouldn't even make it out over the water before they had to eject. But Nat managed to land it on deck in spite of full engine failure."

"Full engine failure?!"

"Yes."

"And all of this happened because this Slayer person went way off course to attend his own rodeo or something?"

Bradley laughed in spite of himself. "Yes."

"Right. Right," you said, even though it sounded like you thought it was all very wrong. "And this Slayer child was allowed to be the fucking team leader because of Admiral Dean?"

"Yes."

You just shook your head at him, standing there on your knees with your hands on your hips. "A court-martial is too good for these fuckers," you said, your voice breaking as you lunged for him.

Bradley caught you in his arms as you burst into tears. "Don't cry. Everyone is fine."

But you were shaking in his arms as you tightened your hold on him. "I could have lost you, Roo... and like, I just know there was at least a small part of you that thought I didn't want this."

He kissed your cheek and whispered, "I knew you loved me. I knew my ring was safe with you. That was enough."

You pulled away from where you'd had your face pressed to the side of his neck. Tears were welling up in your eyes before sliding down your cheeks. "No, that's not enough. I love you more than anything. And you deserve to hear me say that to you."

Bradley gently rolled you onto your back and let his cheek rest on your shoulder as you cried. He wrapped one arm around your middle and tried not to crush you with his weight as you threaded your fingers through his hair. It felt so good, the way you were touching him and crying for him. "I'm right here," he told you, and eventually your breathing evened out.

"I can't believe spending the weekend in the bathtub with me was more important to you than getting all of that off your chest."

"Spending a weekend in the bathtub with you is more important than literally anything else I can think of," he promised, happy to hear you laugh. "But if we're being honest here, Sweetheart, when I got passed over for the mission and named as the spare instead... I'm having a really hard time coming to terms with the fact that I'm probably on the back end of my career as a pilot."

You were silent for a beat, but when you spoke, your fingers were still soft in his hair. "Who named the teams?"

"Admiral Dean."

"And have we not established that he's a mindless idiot who favors the aviators from Lemoore over everyone else?"

Bradley hadn't really considered that the hit to his ego and career should have been taken with a grain of salt. Perhaps there was something to be said for who was in charge of the mission details. "I'm still the oldest one around, compared to everyone at Top Gun and everyone from Lemoore," he murmured.

"Older, sure," you whispered. "But you're also more experienced. And more patient. And smarter. And you were able to tolerate being named the spare without throwing a fit. You're not on the back end of your career. Maybe it will take a different shape, but it's not ending."

Without another word, Bradley fell asleep on you while he thought about what flying meant to him, your touch calming him enough to do that without panicking.

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

You were so hungry now that Bradley told you what had happened. Your stomach was starting to growl, and you realized that you hadn't actually started anything for dinner. But Bradley was still dozing on you an hour later, his arm heavy across your belly where you pressed your fingers to the ink of his tattoo.

He must have been exhausted, dealing with all of this nonsense during his deployment and traveling across so many time zones. And yet he had made you feel so important all weekend, even attempting to make you breakfast. Giving you his undivided attention. Making love to you exactly how you needed it.

When he eventually started to stir, you felt bad that you didn't have anything ready for him to eat. He looked up at you, slowly easing himself into a push up position above you. "Sorry...how long was I out?" he rasped, grunting as he bent his elbows until his lips met yours.

"More than an hour," you whispered as he kissed you over and over again. "You must be exhausted."

"Nah, I feel great," he promised, climbing out of bed and pulling you with him. "Want me to make you some toast?"

"Please don't. I was thinking of just ordering something since I didn't get anything ready to cook." You briefly thought about Cat and Bickel and wondered if they were still working right now.

"Let's get a pizza," Bradley said, grabbing his phone. "It's easy and Tramp loves when you feed him the crusts."

Later, when you sat down on Bradley's lap with a slice of pizza in your hand, you laughed as Tramp sat on the floor begging. You tore off a piece of the crust for him while Bradley inhaled two slices stacked one on top of the other. You were just about to ask him if he'd read some more of his notebook to you when he reached for a third piece.

"Was thinking," he said between bites. "How about a bath before bed? And since you let me nap earlier, I could read until you fall asleep?"

You felt like you were on your honeymoon again where everything you did together just made sense. "You read my mind." And there was just something so good about his voice right now. Whether it was him sitting behind you in the tub or fucking you on the bathmat or leading you to the shower to get you cleaned up a second time, his voice in your ear was exactly what you needed.

"We do some of our best work in the bathroom," he whispered, thrusting into you slowly as your towel unraveled from around you.

"You say that about every room," you reminded him, letting him spread your legs wider as he nipped at your breasts.

"Only because it's true, Sweetheart."

You giggled in the shower, because fifteen minutes ago you'd been clean and then he came inside you. But you were yawning non stop by the time you climbed back into bed. You could barely keep your eyes open as Bradley picked up his notebook and opened it to a page you hadn't heard him read yet.

He wrapped one strong arm around you and cleared his throat. "Promise you won't get upset?" he asked you, holding the notebook just far enough away that you couldn't read it without your contacts or glasses.

"I mean, did you like write something really mean about me?" you asked, squinting.

"No," he said with a laugh. "But it's a full page about all the shit I do that I hate."

"I won't get mad, but that doesn't mean I have to agree with any of it."

He responded by clearing his throat again and reading.

"I was never planning on being married to someone. That's exhausting, right? Way too much responsibility. What if they decide they hate you and leave one day? Or die of cancer? Or what if I burn in? What are you even supposed to do then?

In an effort not to turn into either of my parents, I think I just gave up on the idea. My mom's engagement ring took up residence in a cardboard box in a storage unit for almost twenty years. I don't think I thought about it more than a handful of times, only occasionally remembering how pretty it looked when she wore it outside in the sunshine.

And then I met a woman, and suddenly the fact that I didn't know the exact location of that ring was very unsettling to me. Was it in a box with photos, pushed all the way against the back wall? Was it in a smaller box with my dad's diploma from the Naval Academy? Which box was it in?

These thoughts alternated between being paramount to my very existence and also quite laughable. She wouldn't want to marry me. I'd only known her a few weeks. She was perfect. Beautiful. Funny. Smarter than everyone else.

I second guessed myself even more than usual. And then the most peculiar thing happened. She accepted the ring right out of the cardboard box, and then she married me.

But I haven't been good enough.

And that is a fact that is worse than all my worst fears. It's worse than burning in. It's worse than dying of cancer. It's worse than being left behind. I can't stand the fact that she's too hard on herself because of me. That's fucked up. It makes me feel gross. I don't want a baby more than I want my wife. I just want my wife. I want her right now. I wanted her yesterday. I am going to want her tomorrow.

But two weeks ago when I made her think I didn't, that was probably the worst thing I've ever done. Because it didn't even occur to me how much I was fucking up. Congratulations, you failed. Stop doing it. Be better. If you even get another chance."

When Bradley turned his head to see if you were still awake, you whispered, "I didn't like that page as much as the others."

"I figured you wouldn't."

There were a million things you wanted to say to make him feel better. Share the blame for what happened. But he was proving to you that he had nothing to hide, and he was reading back his candid thoughts. And you never wanted him to stop. So you just kissed his neck and said, "Thanks for reading it to me. But now I want you to read my favorite page again."

He flipped back to find it, and you were asleep after about five words.

Your alarm for work came too early considering how cozy you felt in bed. If you could live in this moment a little longer, you gladly would. You felt warm and safe, and Bradley's first words of the day made you laugh. "I'll order you another overpriced coffee, but your new French press should be here today."

When you walked into the lab with your iced latte to find that Cat was the only person there, you gave her an awkward, "Good morning."

"Hi," she replied, stifling a yawn. She looked exhausted.

"How late were you here?" you asked her, feeling terrible that you weren't the one to put in all the extra hours.

She eyed you hesitantly. "Pretty late. Bickel told me I could come in at lunchtime today, but I didn't want to leave you hanging out to dry with the proposals from Annapolis."

"Thanks," you whispered. But then your heart rate picked up a little bit as you thought about what happened to Bradley. You blurted out, "I need to know what was in that audio."

Cat was instantly shaking her head. "You can't listen to it. Bickel said he doesn't want your login credentials anywhere near it. Could be a massive conflict of interest if you handled it in any way."

You looked down at your boots. "What was it like?"

She was silent for so long, you were afraid she wasn't going to tell you anything. When you turned toward your seat, she said, "It was hard to listen to. Your husband is a good person."

You kept your eyes on your workstation. "He didn't even tell me anything about it until last night."

"He didn't come running home from his deployment and tell you that he's actually a hero? Again? Bickel told me he seems to have a good head on his shoulders."

"No," you whispered, closing your eyes. "He came home and told me we'd talk about it later, because he missed me too much. And then he was good to me all weekend." Good was an understatement. But you did miss your French press.

"You know," Cat replied with a smile in her voice, "it is really hard not to hate you."

You turned to look at her over your shoulder. Maybe she figured you knew about Jake, and maybe she didn't, but you said, "You should reschedule your movie date."

The smile was gone from her face and her voice. "I think yesterday was a wakeup call. And canceling on Jake was probably in my best interest after all. I don't know what I was thinking when-"

"Stop making poor decisions," you snapped. "He found a kid-friendly restaurant, for fuck's sake. What more could you possibly want in a guy?"

"Nothing," she whispered.

Then you plugged your computer in and said, "Thank you for telling me about the comms. And thank you for staying late. And thank you for not leaving me alone to finish the proposals today. But for the love of god, Cat, reschedule the movie, okay?"

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

Bradley was expecting you to meet him for lunch in the cafeteria. He even managed to secure the table where you and he were sitting the first time he asked you out. Which was just going to be the cherry on top of his plans for the day.

Mav let him read the official court-martial documentation along with Nat and Bob. And then he had taken the time to write an official statement. And in about a month, he'd have to appear as a witness to what happened. The sad part was, it all seemed very cut and dry since this wasn't the first time Admiral Dean had shown unjust favoritism. Maybe you were on to something about why Bradley had been selected as the spare.

He heard your laugh before he saw you. It was that beautiful, overjoyed sound that was usually reserved just for him. In fact, he heard it last night when he had you underneath him on the bathroom floor, running his mustache along your pristine skin. But right now you had it aimed at his best friend, and he didn't really mind. You were hugging Nat like you were afraid she was going to vanish into thin air, and when you released her, Bradley watched you press a kiss to Bob's cheek before hugging him just as tight. Your cheek was pressed to Bob's chest when you met Bradley's gaze from a few tables away, and you smiled at him. Then you were headed his way.

"I got you a burrito bowl," he said, even though you could plainly see he had two on his tray. And instead of sitting down across from him, you took the chair right next to his and wrapped your hands around his bicep.

"Roo, do you want to go up to the hot sauce restaurant after work on Friday? Maybe recreate our first date? But instead of me not giving you a handjob on the pier, I totally could."

Bradley's jaw dropped. You somehow read his mind. You took his idea about getting back to basics in your relationship and made it both romantic and also horny enough that he felt a little uncomfortable in his uniform pants. And you had the nerve to sit there and look sweet and innocent as you squeezed a little packet of hot sauce onto your lunch.

"I was going to suggest the same thing," he rasped softly. "Minus the handjob. But I'm definitely down for the inclusion of the handjob."

You just smiled at him as you took a bite of your lunch, and your hand came to rest on his thigh. This was going to be a long week.

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

Need that first date reenactment to happen. And I love how the notebook has become a bedtime staple for them. Thanks to @beyondthesefourwalls and @mak-32

PART 16

@hotch-meeeeeuppppp

@chassy21

@solacestyles

@avoirlecoupdefoudre

@daisyhollyxox

@throwinsauce

@awesomebooklover17

@wintercap89

@whosyourgnomie4

@rosesinmars

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@bcon24

@wishfulwithwine

@backinwonderl4nd

@tetragonia

@gingerbreadandpaper

@emptyloverofmine

@chaoticassidy

@missmirandafe

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@sugarcoated-lame

@avada-kedavra-bitch-187

@katiebby04

@marantha

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@abaker74

@heli991113

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@little-wiseone

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@o-the-o-grim-o-reaper-o

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@cherrycola27

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@xomrsalliej4787xo

@desert-fern

@sylviebell

@wkndwlff

@horseslovers2016

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villain-enthusiast · 2 months

Note

Hi Hello!! Would you please continue the snippet of villain finding hero dying? A lot of whump and caretaking would be great! (By the way.. just wanted to say this...I love your work!!)

so glad u enjoyed! hope this is also to your liking ☺️

part one

The hero came to with a start.

They shifted, groaning as their stiff muscles and joints ached. But they noticed that their body was comfortable, sinking into a soft mattress and swaddled in thick blankets—

Wait, what?

They blinked several times as fragmented memories flashed through their head, The blinding pain of the stab wound. Their broken comms. Blood, too much blood. They were going to die without help…

The villain. The villain finding them in the alleyway, gathering them up in their arms—

“You’re awake.”

The hero jolted, head whipping to the bedside, where the villain had apparently stood up from the chair behind them.

How long had they been waiting there?

They moved to prop themselves up, but the villain’s hands were immediately on their shoulders, gently urging them back down onto the stupidly comfortable bed.

“Don’t move too much. You’ll break the stitches,” the villain warned. They pulled the blanket covering the hero’s torso away to examine the bandages wrapped around their side.

It was then the hero realized that they had been scrubbed clean and given a new pair of sweatpants, every cut and scratch from their recent altercation carefully dressed.

Their eyes met the villain’s in silent questioning.

You did all this for me?

“I swear I didn’t look,” the villain blurted suddenly. “When I was bathing and changing you. I didn’t—.” They cut themselves off awkwardly, cheeks a little pink.

Oh, that’s not… Despite themselves, the hero smiled, or what they could attempt as a smile. Their jaw was incredibly sore from being socked twice in one day.

They opened their mouth to speak, to tell the villain that it was fine and that what they really meant was thank you—

The villain shushed them. “You have some bruising on your neck. It’ll hurt to talk. You should just rest.”

The hero scowled at them. “I—,” they attempted, and immediately regretted their choice as their swollen throat flared up.

The villain gave them a "told you so" look, and the hero leveled another glare at them.

It suddenly occurred to the hero how helpless they were. Can't move, can't speak. If the villain wanted to kill them, now would be the chance. Luring them into a false sense of security, giving them one last taste of comfort before—

“I just saved your fucking life. Stop looking at me like that.”

The hero frowned. Like what? they mouthed.

“Like you think I’m gonna kill you or something. I can be a half-decent person sometimes, y’know," the villain said. Their expression softened. “I’m not a monster.”

The villain's gaze flickered with something the hero couldn't quite place as they watched each other in comfortable silence. It was an understanding, in that moment, that the villain was not going to kill them, and that they had meant everything they said and more.

I couldn’t just leave you to die in that alleyway.

The villain sighed and turned to leave the room. Panic shot through the hero—they needed to say something to the villain, damn their throat—and before they could think twice about it, they reached out and took the villain’s hand in their own. Rough calluses from what was likely decades of training scraped against their palm.

The villain stared at them, but they didn’t pull away. Their fingers wrapped gently around the hero’s, cautious. Expectant.

“Thank you,” the hero croaked, “for saving me.”

The villain was silent for several heartbeats, watching the hero with those dark—so beautifully dark—eyes.

They took a breath, as if readying themselves for whatever they were going to say. “You mean too much to me," they finally said, voice low. "I'm not ready to let you go." Their hand lingered on the hero's, as if to seal their statement, to make a promise and keep it.

Then they released their hold, and the hero wished they could tell them to stay—that they wanted them to stay—but the villain was already closing the door behind them, and fatigue overtook them before they could process anything else.

When the hero awoke the next morning, the villain was nowhere to be found. But in the chair by their bedside, they found a fresh set of clothes, a cup of water, and a note:

Be back soon. - Villain

And though their jaw still ached, the hero smiled, fully and wholly.

#hero #villain #villain and hero #hero and villain #villain/hero #hero/villain #hero x villain #villain x hero #putting those tags bc how could i not #enemies to lovers #injured hero #hurt/comfort #my writing #writing snippet #villain-enthusiast #ask #continuation #working with less dialogue is honestly so interesting #really makes u focus on mood and description

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starry-bi-sky · 9 months

Text

Part SEVEN of "Clone Danny"

Red Robin, Danny recognizes, steps away from him as he sits up. "My name is Phantom," he signs, blinking the exhaustion out of his eyes. (From Red Robin's perspective, it looks like he has no eyes. There lacks his signature green glow.) "I'm not a gang member, just an out-of-town vigilante."

Red Robin frowns at him, an uncertain grip on the bō in his other hand. "Phantom?" He repeats, no lacking amount of suspicion in his voice. "How can I believe that?"

Right. Yeah, okay, that's fair. Danny shrugs at him, and slumps against the wall. "Google search?" He gestures, he's been out in the daytime before and he's seen the news articles about him.

Red's eyes narrow at him and Danny simply draws his knees up and faceplants into them, half-listening to Red's murmurs into his comm while also trying to get some extra-shut eye.

("Oracle, can you pull up anything on a vigilante named Phantom? The guy here is claiming to be one." Tim says.

"On it."

"Is this Phantom wearing a white mask?" Bruce asks, his voice gruff like an aftershock. "There's a vigilante who shares the same name, but he resides in Illinois."

"Is this guy from that Amity city you visited ages ago?" Says Tim, before shaking his head. "Don't answer that. Yes, he's wearing some freaky mask. I said it reminded me of Hood's helmet for a reason."

"I've got something," Oracle interrupts, "Bats' right. as usual. The Phantom of Amity Park, not much stuff of this guy but he's only been out for over a year. Apparently, his rogues' gallery consists of ghosts."

"Oh great.")

"Look tell the Batman that I'm sorry for trespassing on his turf," He signs irritably when Red Robin eventually starts talking to (re: interrogating) him again. "It's not like I want to be here."

"How did you get in Gotham anyways?" Red Robin questions, batman was on his way to help deal with the situation but Tim doubted he wouldn't get caught up on the way with dealing with petty crime. "Your turf is nearly a thousand miles away from here."

"Two words." Danny deadpans, "Teleport ghost." (Red Robin winces sympathetically.) "I'm keeping this bastard in the thermos for a month for this alone."

(Danny was ignoring the slow-choking anxiety growing in his lungs over how he was gonna get home. He never takes his phone when he goes out, the risk of breaking it was too high. He had no way of contacting anyone to get him home.)

(He swallows the growing lump in his throat, and buries the feeling in the back of his mind.)

"Thermos?"

Danny unclips his Fenton Phantom Thermos off from his belt loop and shows it to Red Robin. "My ghost-catching device," He says with one hand, tilting it carefully for Red to inspect. "I wish I could say I made it, but its a FentonWorks invention."

(He wasn't sure if it was a smart idea to say who it belonged to, but saying it wasn't his probably loosened up any tracks on him, right?)

"Do you work with these Fentons, then?" Red asks, and something dark and shadowy flickers from the corner of Danny's eye. He glances over, and sees nothing, and his hackles raise.

(Either that was Batman, or a ghost, or Danny's mind playing tricks on him. He couldn't feel his ghost sense building in his throat, so he decided it was either the latter of the former.)

Danny snorts, quiet and gruff. "No." He clips his thermos to his belt again, stifling a smile on his face. "The Fentons hate me actually, I prevent them from catching ghosts themselves. Their son gives me their tech."

He had a cover story, so he might as well stick with it, right?

Batman shows up at that moment, appearing atop the little roof where the door is, and giving Danny a heart attack when he speaks in his low, rumbly voice like thunder rolling in, "Why would they hate you for that?"

Danny shoots up to his feet with a startled yell in his throat, clutching his chest as he whirls around and looks up. He nearly runs into Red Robin, and signs a few choice swears at the Bat.

"wow you're scarier in person, asshole."

"you didn't answer my question."

"Of course I didn't, you scared me." and Danny takes a trembling step back when the Batman jumps down and lands on the roof in front of him. He's faced ghosts before, but somehow the living is always scarier.

"But, um, the reason is a bit.. complicated, I guess." He says, fingers beginning to shake as his adrenaline wears off. God is he tired. He wants to go home. "The Fentons are the local ghost hunters and local crazies. I don't know if I can call them mad scientists because they're harmless to the living."

"But they're extremely anti-ghost. I've heard from their son multiple times the very unethical things they would do to ghosts if they got their hands on one."

Danny 'talks' a little more before calling it quits, even telling Batman that he can't tell him more without putting his identity at risk.

Plus, its getting harder and harder to hide his bone-deep exhaustion and his growing fear of being stranded in the most dangerous city in America with no way home.

"I would love to tell you more, believe me I'm dying to." Danny signs, shaky sarcasm dripping from his fingers. His hands are visibly trembling and he's withholding a slowly growing panic attack. "But I would like nothing more than to figure out a way to get home."

"Do you have no one to contact?"

"Sort of. But only one of them could probably come get me and get me back to Amity by sunrise. And I have no phone."

That one person being Ellie.

=====

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 4.5 (Dani interlude) Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 7.5 (Dan Interlude) Part 8

Taglist: @the-navistar-carol @thought-u-said-dragon-queen @gin2212 @youracearocroatneighbour @luckybyrdrobyn @deeplyconfusedbear @epilepticnerd @beautifulmomenttodrawblank @sara0055 @blusunkhild @letmesayfuxk (?) @latheevening226 @tkiesai @rosedasy @meira-3919

#dp x dc #dpxdc crossover #danny fenton is a clone #dpxdc #dp crossover #danny fenton is not the ghost king #dpxdc au #it was either ellie comes to get danny or he stays in gotham Somewhere #and he's Only Just met the bats so they're prolly not gonna offer anything #danny's fear of being alone in gotham is prolly downplayed here #but if it were me i would ALSO be slowly driving up to. a panic attack the longer i was in an unfamiliar city with no way home #if this were a proper fic that panic attack would be a lot more evident in the writing #alas #not me looking up Batfam personality cheat sheets because ive never read the comics #dont trust my characterization of the batfam im winging it on google search and summaries of their personalityand out of context comic page #fun fact amity park is described as a moderately large urban city similar to chicago or san francisco which means i cant call it a small to #listening to Dark Arkansas Daughter while writing this #'you with the dark curls you with the watercolor eeyes. you who bares all your teeth in every smiiile' is so au danny coded #bullet point to prevent me from dragging #i need to stop writing these at midnight #im a very honest person and it shows in my writing and it sucks

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crowned-aeris · 2 months

Text

Timkon Sun/Moon thing i just thought of

Tim watches Conner work from afar, his shirt loose, occasionally lifted from his skin by the whispering wind as his eyes scanned the Kryptonian's face.

With careful breaths, the third robin leans back against the railing as he listens to Conner rant about the farm life, and how one of the cows was being an utter bitch.

He smiles, nodding at the appropriate times as he felt his heart swell. Bathed in the high-noon sun, Conner Kent looked simply magical. His hair fluttering around his face, his too-blue eyes alight with a passion that would make even the sun cower.

And Conner really is like the sun, isn't he? Bright, sunny, warm, and capable of chasing away the cold of loneliness that seemed to hound at Tim's heels. If he was Jason, Tim thinks he'd compare their relationship to the ocean and the beach. Despite how the ocean may recede, Tim would always, always, always return to Conner's side.

"Are you even listening to me?" Conner huffed, amusement glinting in his eyes as his lips twisted into faux irritation.

"Yeah, you were talking about how Bessie keeps kicking over the bucket when you try milking her?"

"YEAH! I don't know how, but i swear every time I turn around, she's managed to kick EVERY. BUCKET. OVER."

He laughs, his chest practically shattering from how much he loves this man. Tim doesn't think he could ever stop loving him.

======

Conner presses himself against Tim's side, peering over the boy wonder's shoulder to scan across the screen.

"How do you that Miranes was the one who did it?" he asked, resting his cheek against Tim's shoulder, the vigilante's face illuminated by the moon as they sat side by side next to the window.

"It matches his MO," Tim explained, never once making Conner feel stupid, "this is a relatively easy case, since Miranes apparently can't keep his hands to himself. Since he was last seen near the Alley, I'll hand the case over to Hood and have him take care of Miranes."

"You're so hot when you say stuff like that," Kon grinned toothily, feeling pleased as Tim flushed a vibrant crimson.

"Shut up," Tim hissed, turning his head to try and hide his blush.

Conner laughed, reaching over to gently turn Tim's head over. He wished the Bat's domino was off so he could stare into Tim's creepy little ice-like eyes.

He leans forwards and pecks at Tim's lips before the Bat gets the chance to twist out of his grip.

"CONNER!" Tim practically screeches, entire face a furious red as he hides away in his hands.

"Whaaaatt!" He complained with a pout, "I deserve a kiss, don't I?"

"God, I'm still on comms!" Tim hissed, and Conner could feel the instant the realization set in.

If he focuses closely, Conner can hear the sound of Nightwing's eerily calm voice coming from Tim's ear, "Hey, Red? Let Superboy know the next time he steps foot in Gotham, we will be ready for him with a special.... gift 🥰"

Conner and Tim lock eyes for a brief second, and the Kryptonian couldn't help but think if Nightwing kills him while he's pursuing the light of his moon, then Conner's time on earth would've been 100% well spent.

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meatonfork · 1 year

Note

If it's not too much to ask could you write something where someone from grim's past spills some of their secrets to the 141 to try to make them appear less trustworthy? Maybe grim did something they aren't proud of or they had some sort of connection to a past enemy of the 141. Just some angst before they work things out with the team.

Please keep up the incredible writing!! Whether you use this or not I'm still excited to see how you develop grim as a character <3

omg yes! this is so good! i appreciate you <3

————————————————————————————————————————

Past Secrets

pairings: platonic 141 x grim

warnings: death, blood, choking, usual cod violence, grim is extremely defensive and shuts down

summary: one of grim’s former squad members makes an appearance

————————————————————————————————————————

“did you know that grim killed a teammate while in action?”

you froze. blood running cold.

your head snapped at a former teammate you had. she was staying here while she waited for her next deployment. your base was just a rest stop for her. they called her “buzz” because she never shut the fuck up. constantly buzzing her comms.

“what?” soap’s eyes narrowed at you. shock and distaste forming on his features.

“yep! shot him right in the head as we were walking into the room.” her voice was taunting. she was too eager to let this slip out, and you knew exactly why. she never liked you.

“that’s classified information. you can’t talk about that, buzz. so, shut the fuck up.” your voice was hard with anger.

“what is she talking about, grim? are you going to fucking shoot us if we piss you off in the field?” soap knew you wouldn’t, but he was so shocked that you would turn against your team, what was to stop you now?

“what? no! why would i do that?” your voice shook with surprise. did they really think you’d do that?

“then why did you do it then?” ghost cut in. his voice was gruff.

“guys, i swear, this is a misunderstanding. she was never even briefed after it happened.” you tried to hold your ground, but you started shaking with nerves. what if they didn’t want you on the team anymore if they found out? this was classified for a reason.

“then, what the fuck happened.” price was demanding now. you couldn’t get out of it. not when your captain was on your ass about it.

you let out a shaky sigh, all eyes on you, “he was working for the enemy. we finally had the target in sights, and i let the rest of the team know. but, as i went to go detain him, my partner punched me. i asked him what the fuck he was doing, but he said something about working for the target. i was so confused. we fought for a bit, i was nearly unconscious when i finally got the upper hand. he was reaching for his gun, but i shot him before he could pull it. that’s when the team walked in.” you had small tears running down your face. you went into more detail about the mission, and how there was footage from the building.

“that footage doesn’t prove shit, grim. there was no audio.” buzz cut in again. you were seeing red. why was she so hellbent on ruining your life? you lunged from the couch onto her chair. the chair fell back with you on top of her.

she scratched and screamed as you laid punch after punch into her. your hands wrapped around her throat as you screamed in her face.

“shut the fuck up! you don’t know what you’re talking about. i trusted him! he was my fucking partner, and he tried to fucking kill me for the enemy. shut the fuck up!” your throat was raw and tears continued to stream freely down your face.

arms wrapped around your midsection and pulled you off of her. “kid, you need to stop. i’ll let you go if you stop.” price’s voice was loud in your ear.

you stopped thrashing after a few more seconds, and he let you go. you fell on your butt and sat there, crying as your chest heaved.

“buzz, go to the fucking infirmary and stay there.” his voice was sharp.

she scrambled up and quickly left. her face was bruised and bloody, purple wrapped around her neck from what you could see.

“kid, breathe.” gaz’s face was now in your vision.

“do you want me gone? i can leave, it’s okay.” your voice broke.

his face softened, “no, no. you’re okay. it’s okay. you did the right thing. we don’t blame you.”

his hand gently touched your knee and he helped you to your feet.

“go get some rest, grim.” price said once he entered your line of sight.

so, you did. you walked off to your room and stayed there for two days.

————————————————————————————————————————

a/n: i really do not like how this turned out, but it’s okay. things happen! hope you enjoyed for what it’s worth <3

#soap #john soap mactavish x reader #soap cod #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost #ghost cod #simon ghost riley #john price x reader #john price #kyle gaz garrick x reader #kyle gaz garrick #cod mw2 #cod #cod mw2 imagine #mw2 #grim au

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mistydeyes · 9 months

Text

the deadly kiss of a woman

┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊

summary: When the 141 isn't planting bombs and executing assaults, they're usually tailing a target or performing their own reconnaissance. What happens when you enter the picture and are sent to do your own recon on them?

pairing: Task Force 141 x undercover!fem!Reader

warnings: depiction of violence/weapons and drugs, swearing, wound depiction, reader being a bad bad girl (except in gaz's case lmao)

a/n: bro i love me a good spy storyline

┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊

price - assassin

Finding Captain Price wasn't an easy feat. You were contracted by the traitorous General Shepherd and he was making sure you worked for your payment. You followed Price mission to mission but he was always one step ahead of you or surrounded by his teammates. You had exhausted all of your international passports and disguises until an opportunity presented itself. From a covertly placed comm, you heard that Price was planning on a retreat to his cabin while on leave. You sped your black vehicle away and raced to the airport. You smiled as you booked the next flight to Fort Augustus.

When you arrived, you booked an Airbnb under an assumed name and just happen to be sitting on the porch when your "neighbor" arrived. "Good morning," you waved as you put on your best fake American accent. He waved back as he casually sipped his morning brew. "Far from home are we?" he asked as he walked closer to the edge of his porch to talk to you. "Guess you Brits can spot an American from miles away," you joked, "The name's Virginia, I thought it was time to take a break from trips to Maine and try going abroad instead." "I'm John and, well, you picked a great place," he smiled at you and you returned the friendly gesture. "Maybe we could chat about some trails over dinner?" you asked and he looked at you surprised. "I just bought too many ribeyes for one person to enjoy," you said sheepishly and he nodded in response. "How about you bring them over and I can grill some up for dinner?" he offered and you agreed on a time for that evening. As you entered your cabin, you knew you would walking away with millions at the end of the night.

When evening finally arrived, you changed into jeans and a flannel shirt. The outfit functioned in multiple ways as the bulkiness of the flannel allowed you to hide your two weapons for the night: monkshood powder to sedate Price and a scopolamine patch to kill him with a seizure quickly. You smiled as you remembered their street names, wolfsbane and Devil's Breath. You grabbed the thawed pieces of meat and adjusted your brunette wig before heading over to his home. When you knocked on the door, he greeted you warmly and invited you inside. The house was warm and he quickly took the ribeyes out of your hand to prep on the grill. "Your place is amazing," you said as you took off your boots. "A slice of paradise," he said as he offered you some scotch. "I also made a tayberry pie for dessert, heard it's a Northeast specialty," he said before walking to the kitchen, "you're lucky they had some at the market." "Sounds great, let me know if there's anything I can do to help," you called out. You walked around the room, checking for any bugs or weapons that he could use to his advantage. Shepherd had informed you that Price was not an old man to underestimate and you took the threat seriously.

"Here you go," he said behind you and you turned with a smile as he held out two glasses. You reached out to grab one but "accidentally" tripped and caused the glasses onto his chest. "I am so sorry!" you said, "I'll pour us another if you want to change." He nodded in response and reassured you that it was alright. As he left to change his shirt, you poured two new glasses and covertly mixed the powder in. He returned quickly and you went to go present him his glass. "I'll drink in a minute, have to check and make sure those cuts haven't burned yet, love," he said before brushing past you. You patiently waited as you knew your opportunity would come soon.

After a few moments, Price returned with two perfectly charred steaks. "Mind just getting some plates for us?" he asked and directed you over to the cabinet. You put your drink down on the table and retrieved the items. Finally, you sat across from Price and sipped your drinks over the delicious meal. You made polite conversation about the variety of trails and enjoyed his cooking.

As the night continued, you felt faint but blamed it on the strong liquor. However, as your eyes began to close and your ears rang, Price quickly got up and moved you to the couch. "When you wake up you're going to explain everything," he cruelly whispered as you fell out of consciousness. "A good assassin would know that tayberries are only from California but I guess you didn't do your research," was the last thing you heard before you passed out on the leather couch.

soap - weapons dealer

Becoming friends with Johnny wasn't part of the plan. You just happened to hit it off at a bar in Scotland when you were executing a deal. You decided to keep him around despite the danger of him exposing you. You lived by the saying "Keep your friends close but your enemies closer” and while you were fond of the Scotsman, you weren’t blind to the fact he was a Sergeant who could implicate your entire business. You kept up a front as an influencer who got paid to travel to lavish destinations and enjoyed the finer things in life. He didn’t question you when you told him you were off to Amsterdam. “Enjoy the sights, lass,” he cheered to you and you made plans to hang out whenever you both returned. Little did you both know, you would be seeing each other much sooner than you expected.

As you sat in a dimly cocktail bar, you sipped delicately on a thousand-dollar rum. Your blackened lipstick stained the edge of the glass as you ordered another. You checked your watch and saw that your client was running behind. You didn’t interfere or ask what they needed the firearms for, you could’ve cared less. But this client was clearly a cartel member based on their Western Hemisphere accent and their offerings for some premium cocaine. “He’s late,” you said, annoyed, to your bodyguard, “I’m giving him five more minutes until the deal is off.” Suddenly, the doors of the cocktail bar opened and you could see three figures illuminated by the street light enter. “Here he finally is,” you exasperatingly said as you threw your hands up in relief. But you would soon swallow your words as a familiar face emerged into the red light.

Your bodyguard moved for his gun as this was not the client you were expecting. “Hold it right there and don’t move, sweetheart,” one of the men commanded as they approached. “Who are you?” you asked coldly as their presumed Captain took the head seat. “People who are very interested as to why you’re transporting guns for the cartel,” he said and lit up a cigar, using your rum glass as an ashtray. “And what makes you think I sell anything of that nature?” you countered as you caught Johnny’s eyes and he stared intently. “Well first because lying to a Sergeant is a federal offense,” Johnny answered with venom in his tone. “Looks like you’ve already been acquainted,” the other man answered and he looked to be the youngest out of the group. “Plus we tracked your client and he brought you to us,” the Captain said as he took another long draw out of his cigar. Every time he dumped ashes you gripped the tablecloth harder.

"What if I don't cooperate?" you asked as you tried to regain power in this situation. "Oh Michelle," Johnny said as he approached you and placed a dominating hand on the table, "or should I say Genevieve Aguillard." You swallowed harshly as he raised his other hand to brush a loose strand of hair. "I think you'll find a way to tell us, Bonnie," he complimented as you shuttered at his tone. Your smile faltered as you turned your attention back to the Captain. "Mactavish, take the Red Widow to another room, and don't come back until we have what we need," he said as you felt Johnny grip your arm and lead you for some light interrogation.

gaz - secret agent

Following General Shepherd's betrayal, the CIA placed you undercover to be their eyes and ears inside the 141. You were experienced with these types of operations and readily accepted the position. Intercepting the team was easy as Laswell had made sure to secure you a position as the task force's newest foreign operations specialist and linguist. The CIA helped to fabricate a dossier that developed your history as one of the youngest members to pass SAS selection and one that quickly climbed the military ladder. Now in, you impressed the men with your mastery of foreign military weapons and vehicles along with your deadly hand-to-hand combat.

After a few months of chasing Makarov, you were trusted to go on missions without supervision or instruction from the entire team. You primarily would go with Price and Gaz so your budding friendship with Gaz was no surprise. You were given the alias of Evelyn Hanssen, a name that combined a fictional special agent and a real one. Gaz affectionately called you Eve and would always be the first one to volunteer to go on patrol with you. One night you got in a pissing contest as you fabricated a lie regarding your times during the Special Air Service selection. "And I thought I had the best times, Eve," Kyle joked as you finished up another spring training. "You wish, Garrick," you replied before heading off to the showers.

However, your position would soon become compromised following a near-death experience with Gaz. You, Price, and Gaz were on the frozen cliffs of Kazakhstan to retrieve stolen American intel. While Price provided overwatch, you and Gaz were tasked with infiltrating the base and securing the American Attack Characterization System. That was the plan but after you had become captured following the data transfer, you had to shoot your way out and steal a Russian aircraft. You were lucky to be alive on the ride home but a bullet wound to your shoulder and Gaz's broken arm landed you in an office with Laswell, Price, and the CIA Director.

"What the fuck were you thinking Agent L/N?" Laswell yelled at you as you sat with Gaz in the large meeting room. "I did my job, Ma'am," you said through gritted teeth. Her tone was harsh, like a mother yelling at her child. It had been a grueling 2 hours of going over everything that had gone wrong during the mission. Gaz had said his peace and now it was your turn on the chopping block. "You blew up a secret Russian military base, where was that in the brief?" the Director added. He then directed his anger to Price, "I thought you said your men could handle this, John." Price's eyes narrowed at you before he responded. Following the fiasco, the team had been briefed on your "secret assignment" and it was clear that hostilities were present in your role with the team. "My men could have handled it but she's not one of mine, General," he said venomously and the tension between him and his American counterparts was evident. "You're done Agent, I expect you on the first flight home to Langley tomorrow," the Director said and dismissed you and Gaz.

As you exited, you tried to grab Gaz's shoulder as he walked away. He looked at you with a new form of hatred in his eyes. "Don't touch me," he said coldly as your grip on his shoulder loosened. "You come in here to babysit us and you can't even do your job correctly," he continued as you looked at him, trying to find something to say. "I'm sick of you messing up our operations, you're a flight risk that needs to run home to the States," he ended and walked away, leaving you to pack your bags and head home.

ghost - spy

Ghost knew he was being followed. As a grey man himself, he knew what to look out for when tailing a target. There were two options to execute surveillance, the first way is to make sure your targets never notice you and the second way is to make sure they only notice you. The young woman who had been mingling through the busy London streets was definitely following the former. Simon noticed you three blocks away when you emerged from a bookstore and had been casually keeping pace with him since.

He didn't know what she wanted but decided to execute his own countermeasures. He pulled off into a small trinkets shop and pretended to look amongst the aisles of vintage teapots. When he heard the signature click of the front door, he knew he had you cornered. You rounded the aisles and eventually pretended to pick up a plate and inspect its engravings. "You've been following me," Ghost said as he too was looking at a teapot. You swallowed and turned to face your target. "So tell me when are you going to ask for my number?" he said and you could see the corners of his eyes rise in a smile. You were suspicious as spies were often taught not to rely on coincidences but you played along. "Is it that obvious?" you flirted, "I'm sorry for being such a weirdo, I have seen you around town and needless to say, you've gotten my attention."

You moved closer to him and seductively bit down on your lip, staining your rouge lipstick. Ghost moved his hand to your face and wiped the stain from your lower lip. "What's your name, doll?" he asked as he stared at you intently. "Belle," you replied with your undercover name prepared, "what's yours handsome?" "Simon" he breathily replied and you knew you had the right person. As Ghost exited the shop with your phone number in hand, he knew he would keep you around until he found out who you were sent by. He was ready to dance this dangerous tango with you.

After weeks of sleeping and getting closer to Simon, you were prepared to give updates to your handler. It was easy to entice him into midnight meetings in darkened hotel rooms. You could have easily taken him out but your client had other plans for him. You exited your faux flat in a grey suit and jacket and made your way to the rendezvous point. Your heels clicked on the street as you perfectly blended in with office workers heading home or on errands after the long work day and entered a cocktail bar. "Just a table for two, in the back please," you asked the young hostess. "My date and I would like our privacy," you winked and they led you to a cocktail table at the back of the restaurant. You sat in the corner, facing the door, as you pulled out a compact to run your fingers through your blonde wig and adjust your brown lipstick. Your handler was to meet you in five minutes but it never hurt to be early.

As you examined yourself in the mirror, someone exited the bathroom and sat across from you. You closed it and tried to suppress your surprise when you saw Simon sitting in front of you. "Apologies sir, I think you have the wrong table," you lied as you donned a convincing French accent. "No I think I'm at the right one, Belle," he said as you knew he had set you up. You heard the click of a gun underneath the table and felt the cold metal brush against your knees and position your stomach. "But we both know, Belle isn't your real name," he said as he stared at you intently with those brown eyes that had looked down at you ever since you met. "Have to say Belle is a nice alias, the same one a Civil War spy had," he said and let out a sickly sweet laugh. As you shakily sipped your water, you prepared to either be shot or hear his demands. "Now you're going to tell me who sent you or you'll have some lead to accessorize with," he whispered before signaling the waiter for two glasses of Bourbon. This was going to be one hell of a dinner date.

#task force 141 x reader #task force 141 #cod x reader #call of duty modern warfare #cod mwii #modern warfare 2 #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #call of duty #john soap mactavish #kyle gaz garrick #gaz x reader #soap x reader #price x reader #kyle garrick x reader #john price x reader #Johnny mactavish x reader #mw2 imagine #madebyizzie

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andrastepls · 2 months

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UNTIL DAWN.

synop: reader (callsign lark) and ghost chat over comms one rainy evening. maybe in the same universe as A/SMR ?

warnings: noooone ?

i have once again not proofread shit

The sound of rain pelting down on her makeshift tent was all encompassing, loud — and cold.

Under other circumstances, she would’ve loved the sound. The pitter patter of the droplets may well have lulled her to sleep, but not tonight. Camped out atop a roof adjacent to enemy territory, huddled up underneath a pair of wooden pallets and garbage bags that she’d propped up against the side of the wall, a thermal blanket held up to her nose in an attempt to retain some warmth — this was anything but comforting.

Maybe that was why her eyes kept flicking to her comm. Knowing a familiar voice was just on the other end of a radio wave. He, Ghost, never turned his off. Especially not while she was out on her own, “Manners,” was his response when asked why.

“Lt?” she begins, her voice a breadth above a whisper, “You awake? Over.”

There’s a lull of silence. Not even the static there to keep her company when she lifted her finger from the button.

“Copy, Lark. How you holdin’ up? Over.” came the slight grogginess of his voice, a telltale sign that he had been nearly asleep, if not outright unconscious.

She pauses before answering; namely, what was she going to say? She woke him, it had to be a better reason than being cold and lonely. He was probably cold and lonely too. If he even got lonely. He didn’t seem the type for it. In the two years she had known him, if there was anything she could figure, it was that Lieutenant Riley was someone who enjoyed his alone time.

“Lark?” his voice sounds again with a crackle of static, sounding more awake.

“Here, sir.” she replies, “Just . . . needed to hear a familiar voice. Sorry to wake you. Over.” and she expects that to be the end of it. It was silly of her to bother him over something so mundane. It was weak, and overstepping and —-

“Cold as hell tonight.” he says, dropping formalities. Her chest feels tight. Guilty.

“. . yeah.”

“Y’ got enough thermals up there?”

“For tonight, if it doesn’t flood up here.”

And she swears, she swears, she hears the end of a snorted-laugh when he answers, “The roof innit gonna flood, kid.”

Fighting a smile, she hides herself further into the silver blanket, ducking her head inside and curling her legs up closer, “You’re gonna feel real silly saying that when you need a boat to evac me in the morning.”

"Sure we got a little floaty around here somewhere, if it comes to that." he replies, taking on the tone of a man who thought himself to be hilarious -- having been on the receiving end of his jokes in the past, well . . .

"One with duckies on it, I hope."

"Mm. Nah. Little fish." the Lt. says, his smirk evident in his voice. A smirk she had never seen, but had grown quite accustomed to hearing.

"Nemo?" Lark grins, pulling her sleeves further up to cover her hands in the interim between their comments.

"High standards there, huh?"

"You have no idea, Lt. Nemo or bust."

"I'll see what I can do." he chuckles a bit, and she tries to picture him being up there with her. He was intimidating, no doubt about that, but he brought a certain comfort with him. A sense of safety, even. Must have come with the territory of doing what they did.

You either had each others back, or you all died. That, or get hunted down. Bleak, unless you sucked it up and worked together.

"Fallin' asleep, kid?" Simon's voice comes through again in a crackle of static.

"Nah -- don't think I'm gonna get much sleep tonight." still, she fights back a yawn. It wasn't a matter of not wanting to sleep, because she wanted to. Badly. Getting back to base couldn't come soon enough.

There’s a moment of silence, and she wonders if he had fallen asleep himself. She couldn’t even blame him. Freezing rain, creeping up on 3 A.M. Dawn isn’t all that far off, she told herself, just power through a few more hours.

“Can stay on with ya,” he suddenly says, clearing his throat a little, “Should at least try to get a few winks.”

“That your way of telling me to shut up, Lt?” Lark asks, not bothering to try and hide the sleepy smile evident in her reply.

“Maybe.”

“Brutal.”

“Do I gotta make it an order?”

“Maybe.”

He laughs. Laughs. It makes her chest tighten so unfairly; worse, when she realizes she would do damn near anything to hear that again.

“Get some shuteye, Lark. That’s an order.”

“Mm.” She hums, pulling her thermal over her head, listening to the rain continue to pitter-patter on her makeshift shelter, “See you in the morning, Lt.”

“Jus’ a couple hours.”

“ . . just a couple hours.” she mutters back, tucking her walkie underneath her chin as she settled back in. Forcing her eyes shut as he says a muffled ‘Goodnight’ into the comm.

A/N: i’ve had an idea like this for months, and when i read this, i couldn’t stop myself B) . . . might continue this ? idk

#cod imagine #ghost cod #cod modern warfare #cod mw2 #simon ghost riley #ghost fluff #simon riley fluff #simon riley x oc #call of duty #drabble #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #cod fic

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irisintheafterglow · 4 months

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smoke his ass! (pro racer!gojo x you)

cw/tags: a lot of swearing lol, established relationship, banter and dialogue driven

note: didn't think this would get too long, but i liked writing this a lot! hope you enjoy :)

likes, reblogs, and replies are always appreciated <3

"that fucker in the ford is going to get smited if he doesn't stop being the ass-est human to ever exist."

"is it smited or smote? smot?" your pit lead shoots you a smirk, absolutely certain of who the 'fucker in the ford' was that was making your driver so infuriated. "i'm not sure smited is a word," suguru whispers through your mic.

"you're gonna be next, suguru geto. burnt to a crisp that would make hell jealous."

"geez, satoru," you mutter, praying that a convenient line of static or the sound of the wheels revving distorted his threats on any live feeds of his pov. "what's got you so worked up?"

"he needs to take me to dinner first before he rides my ass!" the last three words of his declaration blare in your headphones and you wince, already aware of the hearing loss you must experience from being around deafening engines all the time. the engine temperature spikes as satoru flicks the lever up a gear and makes a narrow pass around the second-place porsche. with the ford and the porsche eating his dust, he was able to regain some momentum with such an unexpected maneuver. he's quick to rein in the flare in his temper, though, and he can already predict your protests to pushing the car at an unnecessary time. "i know, i know. that pass was untimely, but i'm mad as hell right now."

"you're about to be madder," you say with no ounce of remorse and automatically tune out the groan of frustration crackling through the line. "i'm pitting you for new wheels and i wanna check your windscreen. that mcclaren crash during lap four probably threw some bad debris your way." his silence speaks volumes, his irritation obvious. yes, the stop may force satoru to work harder on his way back to the podium, but it was necessary to keep him safe for the remainder of the race. his car swerves unceremoniously into the pit lane and suguru's crew make quick work of replacing the tires. you meet his eyes through the window and find them seething, his gloves holding the wheel in a white-knuckle grip. before you could blink, he was zooming away again, adamant on showing the ford driver what the honored one is truly capable of. "you with me, satoru?"

"loud and clear. can i get a 'who's who' on that ford?"

"magic word?"

"i'm in shambles for you," he replies without missing a beat.

"look, you're climbing back to second and he's in fourth, satoru. he doesn't matter-"

"he plays dirty, so he does matter if he keeps trying to flip me into fucking oblivion," he counters and you sigh, defeated. you double-check the roster and see a name you weren't familiar with, someone who must have flown under the radar from the lower circuits.

"fushiguro. fushiguro toji." you watch the ferrari icon next to satoru's name steadily climb the leaderboard as he returns to his spot in third, with the porsche in front of him and the ford on his tail.

"new?"

"to these races, yeah, but it seems that he's dealt with drivers like you before."

"what do you mean, 'drivers like me?'"

"i mean that we've found a more reckless driver than you." the ford cuts a hard left to come parallel with the driver's side, barely missing one of satoru's back wheel wells. "case in point."

"then i think it's time he learned his place," satoru snarls. within seconds, he throws the car into a higher gear and swings wide on the following right turn, accelerating at the peak of his centripetal force and slamming on the gas at the straightaway. "how's that for reckless driving, asshole?"

"take a breath, hotshot," you chuckle and hear him click his tongue in defiance. you're slightly in awe of his move, but you weren't going to tell him that over comms. "you've still got a few more laps to go and you can easily burn out if you're not careful," you remind him but feel in your bones that he's found his way back into his groove, his own little pocket of racing that was created when it was only you on the line, him on the track, and a podium finish in sight.

"stay on the line?"

"i'm not going anywhere, sweetheart." you can hear him smile at the rare slip of affection, something you're very cautious about when you were both in professional settings. while your relationship with satoru was no secret, you tried to keep public reminders to a minimum to avoid overshadowing his racing career. you knew which story the press would choose first between his love life and his titles. "just get back faster."

"i'm trying, but this mercedes is giving me a rough time." you fight the urge to laugh, having seen this sequence play out numerous times in the past. towards the end of races where something threw him off, he tended to lose morale during the last few laps. however, since you became his lead engineer, you've developed the uncanny skill of saying the three magic words to fire him up again.

"you're in a ferrari, gojo satoru," you say. "smoke his ass." like clockwork, the words register in his mind and he finds a new sense of determination, rocketing past the mercedes and over the checkered line for another first-place finish on his shelf. "there you go, there's my speed demon boyfriend," you murmur in his ear when he tugs off his helmet and gloves and holds you close.

"sorry for getting pissy about the ford," he says quietly so that only you can hear it. "i hope i didn't hurt your ears too badly."

"they're still ringing," you joke, "but i'll be fine as long as you aren't arrested for assault on fushiguro toji." a dangerous glint catches in satoru's bright blue eyes, one that makes the corner of your mouth turn down in a scolding frown.

"i'm not doing anything," he sings innocently while you make your way up the stairs to the winners' stage. "not yet, at least. and, for the record, i'm elated that he didn't make podium." before he leaves, he's quick to give you a peck on the cheek that makes your face heat. "and, i love you a lot. i'm gonna go get our trophy now, so wait here."

if you enjoy my writing and would like to support me, you can buy me a coffee on my ko-fi! you can also check out my full masterlist here :)

#gojo x you #gojo x reader #gojo x y/n #satoru x reader #satoru x you #satoru x y/n #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x y/n #jjk x you #jjk x reader #jjk x y/n #jjk pro racing au #jjk au

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captainsophiestark · 6 months

Text

Bird Strike

Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Reader

Masterlist - Join My Taglist!

Written for my Year of Olympians and part of a bigger challenge being run by @yearofcreation2023 which I’m finally catching back up on! It features a ton of other awesome creators and runs all year, so go check it out!

Fandom: Top Gun

Prompt: Apollo; light, the sun, truth, inspiration, medicine, healing

Summary: A bird strikes brings Hangman down and leads to confessions from him and Rooster's sister.

Word Count: 1,825

Category: Angst, Fluff

Putting work into an AI program without permission is illegal. You do not have my permission. Do not do it.

"Alright, you're all good Bob. Just take it easy on your wrist for a little while, and you should heal up just fine."

"Thanks," said Bob, giving me a smile as he hopped off my exam table. Life was never boring as Top Gun's chief medical officer, but thankfully today I hadn't had to deal with any serious injuries. Just a slightly sprained wrist from a little too much dog fight football.

"Sure thing." I headed for the door with Bob, since I didn't have anyone else waiting for medical attention. Jake Seresin, the most arrogant pilot at Top Gun (except maybe Mav), was currently up flying, and since I didn't have any pressing work to attend to I wanted to listen in on how he was doing.

"Hey!" Bradley, my older brother, waved as soon as he saw me and Bob enter the room. A few aviators were gathered around, listening to the comms between pilots still in the air. "You missed my run."

"Oh no, I'm so sad. How will I ever recover?"

Bradley just rolled his eyes at me as I sidled up next to him beside the radio. I could hear Jake's voice, strategizing with his wingman and tracking the instructor's positions. I tuned in, imagining I could see his plane as it flew across the sky.

"So you're in here listening carefully to the radio for Seresin but not your brother?"

"Shut up," I said, shoving him back much harder than necessary. I wasn't sure if he knew that he'd found some truth in terms of my feelings for Jake, but I never wanted him to know. "I heal injuries for a living, and I'm just as skilled at causing injuries."

"Don't you have some kind of oath to do no harm?"

"You're my exception."

I gave him a fake sweet smile as he narrowed his eyes at me. He opened his mouth, probably to make a bad attempt at a comeback, but he stopped short at the sounds of distress coming from the radio.

"Hangman, watch out!"

"Bird strike, bird strike!"

My heart stopped in my chest. The room went dead silent, everyone freezing and all conversation coming to a stop as we listened to the radio.

"Hangman to Tower, Hangman to Tower. I need to come in for an immediate emergency landing."

"Copy. Just stay calm, we've got the runway open for you."

"Alright. I'm coming around."

The silence stretched on, hanging over the room like a heavy blanket. I twisted my fingers, fidgeting, trying to dispel the nervous energy. He was going to be fine. He had to be.

I saw Bradley glancing at me out of the corner of my eye, but I ignored him. I kept my eyes and attention glued on the radio. I wasn't sure if I wanted the silence to end or not, but I didn't get a choice as the radio crackled to life again.

"Tower, it's no good, I'm losing speed and altitude too fast. I'm gonna have to eject."

I felt like I'd been hit by a train. Wordlessly, I reached out one hand, and Bradley quickly took it. He stood tall and strong beside me, his face clouded while my world spiraled out of control. This could not be happening.

"He's gonna be fine," Bradley muttered. I barely heard him. It sounded like we were underwater, and the room had started to spin.

Bradley and I had lost our dad this way, when the canopy to his fighter jet didn't detach the way it was supposed to. We'd both been pretty young, but I swear I remembered every awful moment of our mother coming to break the news, of Mav explaining just what had happened and how sorry he was with tears in his eyes. When Bradley had decided to follow our dad's path into becoming a pilot, my number one nightmare had been losing him the same way. Now I might be forced to live that reality with Jake instead.

The silence stretched on as Bradley and I stood, shoulder to shoulder, waiting with everyone else in the room. A moment later, I heard Mav's voice over the radio.

"Canopy looked good and I saw a chute."

Mav continued to call out his position for Jake's recovery team, but I barely heard it as relief crashed like a wave through my ears. I wouldn't be completely relieved until he walked through the door, but at least it sounded like he was going to be just fine.

"It's okay," Bradley muttered, pulling me into a quick hug and mumbling into my hair. "It's okay."

I nodded, still feeling a little shaky as I gave him a quick hug before pulling back.

"I need to get to my exam room. Even if he's perfectly healthy, he's gonna need a checkup to make sure nothing's wrong."

"Do you want me to come with you?"

I took a deep breath and let it out slowly, trying to force myself to calm down a little. I shook my head.

"That's alright. I'm okay."

Bradley didn't look totally convinced, but I managed to shake him anyway with a promise to call him if I needed him. I focused on taking deep breaths and trying to calm myself down for the walk back to my exam room. It sort of worked, although I literally paced the room waiting for Jake to be brought in. When I finally heard shuffling outside the door, I quickly crossed the room and flung it open.

"I told you, I'm fine!"

Jake stood in the hallway on his own two feet, wrestling with one of the men who'd brought him in. The guy didn't budge despite Jake's protest, but I decided to step in before things could escalate.

"Jake, get in the exam room."

His head snapped up to face me, but despite his momentary surprise, he didn't back down.

"I'm gonna tell you the same thing I told them, I'm fine. I don't need an exam-"

"You ejected from your plane. You might be walking, but that's no grantee you don't have an injury just waiting to show itself once the adrenaline fades. So come on. The less you fight it, the sooner you can leave and go do whatever it is you want to do so badly."

He fixed me with a look, but I just crossed my arms and stared right back. Finally, once he realized I wasn't going to back down, he sighed.

"Fine. But if I miss somebody shooting Maverick down, I'm gonna be pissed."

I resisted the urge to reply as Jake walked past me, and I followed him into the exam room. My brain still didn't completely believe he was sitting here, in front of me, apparently completely healthy. The adrenaline dump made my hands shake a little as I checked Jake's heartrate and went through a few more basic checks.

"Are you sure you don't feel any pain?" I asked while I worked. I'd already asked him twice before, but I wanted to keep checking in case his answer changed, especially as any potential shock wore off.

"For the third time, yes. Quit hovering already."

I stepped back, hands on my hips as I fixed Jake with a look. He seemed to be perfectly happy and relaxed in the wake of his dangerous adventure, but I was still wrestling with the thought that my worst nightmare almost came true, so I wasn't in the mood to be gentle.

"Jake, it is my job to check you out and make sure you're not injured with something that's going to come back to bite you the second you're out the door. So sit still, stop complaining, and let me do my job!"

"...Since when do you care so much?"

"Excuse me?"

"Not about your job, but... about me. You seem like you care a lot. I thought you hated me for all the shit I give your brother."

I sighed. "No. I mean, sure, sometimes it's annoying and sometimes it's a little over the line, but... no. I don't hate you, Jake."

He didn't really respond, which left me to finish my exam without resistance. Thankfully, he was perfectly healthy, not a scratch on him. Still, that didn't stop my hands from shaking as I lowered my stethoscope. I started to pull away, but Jake caught my hand and stopped me.

"Hey, you're shaking." I closed my eyes and let out a long breath. I'd done so well hiding it until now. "What's wrong?"

I opened my eyes to find Jake staring at me, his bright blue eyes full of unusual concern. I sighed.

"You know mine and Bradley's history, Jake. I lost my dad to the same thing that landed you here today. I've spent every single day since Bradley joined the navy terrified that I would lose him the same way, and then when I heard you on the radio, dropping out of the sky and being forced to eject..." I took a deep breath, steeling myself, and then looking back at Jake. "I've had feelings for you for a little while now, Seresin, but when I heard that call? I just about had a heart attack at the thought of losing you."

Jake huffed a little, disbelieving laugh, then tugged me closer to him. My heart stuttered in my chest as Jake grinned.

"I've had feelings for you for a while now, too," he said. A smile pulled its way onto my face, but a moment later, Jake's expression sobered. "Although I have to warn you, sweetheart, if we do something about those feelings... you're not gonna be any less relaxed going about your day since I'm going to be up in the air all the time."

I sighed and closed my eyes, leaning in to rest my head against Jake's forehead. He still held my hand tight, giving it a little reassuring squeeze.

"I know," I finally said. "But... I'm willing to take that risk. It's worth it to me. And it's not like I wouldn't be worried about you anyway."

Jake pulled away, the grin firmly back in place as he looked at me. "I'm glad I'm worth it to you."

Without another word, he leaned back in, this time for a kiss that I'd thought about more than once (and apparently so had he). We stayed that way for a long time, savoring the moment and each other as my hands wandered over Jake's shoulders, reassuring myself that this was real. He was okay, and now we were both better than okay.

When we finally pulled apart, Jake still had that ridiculous cocky grin on his face as he wrapped his arms around my waist and pulled me tighter to his chest.

"Your brother is gonna hate this," he said gleefully. I just laughed and lightly smacked his chest. He was right, my brother was going to hate this, but Bradley would just have to deal with it. Now that I had Jake, I didn't plan to let him go any time soon.

****************

Everything Taglist: @rosecentury

Top Gun Taglist: @elenavampire21

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siilvan · 7 months

Text

proximate

characters: rodolfo “rudy” parra

summary: an undercover operation goes awry, leaving you and rudy in a tight spot – literally.

prompts: 3. "first one to make a noise loses" & 19. "the choice is yours"

genre: general, fluff, fem!reader (no desc.)

warnings: not proofread (i'll do it later </3), cursing, brief mentions of canon-typical violence, classic stuck-in-a-closet situation 😏, like two spanish words since i'm still a beginner lol

word count: 1.9k

note: RAHHHHHH RUDY MY LOVE‼️‼️🗣️ once again, shoutout to @glitterypirateduck for curating this event!!

also wrote most of this while fighting off sleep so if it's bad, i'm sorry, i have another rudy fic on my WIP list <3

things can't get much worse than this, right?

right?

"a simple mission," he said. "just a quick in-and-out." he said.

you swear, you're going to to kick alejandro with the heels that you're wearing if you come out of this alive.

as you go to round a corner, a few voices make you stop dead in your tracks and tuck yourself back against the wall. it's a small group, no more than four men, and you hold your breath as they stroll right past you without even sparing a glance in your direction.

if there's anything to be thankful for, it's the lack of discipline in the guards. they're all too worried about getting drunk at the party still raging elsewhere than catching the "agent" in attendance.

you let out a soft sigh as you watch them disappear down the corridor, until footsteps quickly approaching from behind make you jump and spin around, preparing to face the would-be attacker.

before you can even turn, though, a pair of gloved hands grab ahold of you, one coming up to cover your mouth as you let out a surprised yelp, and the other pressing you into the wall again. it's an instinct when you fight back, lifting your foot and stomping on theirs, praying that the heel of your shoe is enough to force them to loosen their grip and give you a chance to escape.

the grunt that leaves them – him, you realize – sounds all-too familiar. you hesitate, which gives the man enough time to yank his foot back and lean closer, mumbling something into your ear despite the pain lacing his every word.

"it's me—!" he says through a pained groan. the dots finally connect in your head and you crane your neck to look at him over your shoulder.

the man stares at you through a black balaclava, but his eyes are unmistakable. it's rudy.

"what are you doing here?" you ask, voice slightly muffled against his palm. rudy pulls his hand away and steps back, giving you space to face him properly. you mutter a quick apology upon seeing him stumble a bit, obviously sore from your attack, but he brushes it off with a casual wave of his hand.

"heard about the situation over comms, figured you could use some help." he shrugs as your gaze drops, dragging over the dark suit that sits snugly on his form. "we need to move quickly. the security's scattered right now, but it won't be long until they find the body." he adds, tapping your shoulder gently as he moves past you.

you follow close behind as he starts down the corridor that the group of guards came from earlier. "i'm assuming you mean the guy who's clothes you're wearing – did you not hide him well?"

rudy pauses at another intersection, holding a hand up to signal for you to stop behind him. "didn't have time to. i was more worried about you."

with the way he says the words so casually, you know that it's nothing more than work to him. helping a fellow soldier, assisting you in the field for the sake of the mission, doing his job as the second-in-command. still, you don't miss the way your heart skips a beat at the thought of rudy rushing to your aid for a different, more personal, reason.

after a mumbled "come on," he's continuing down the hallway with you right behind him, the distinct sounds of your heels clacking against the floor with each step and his leather oxfords echoing off the walls.

you nearly slam into his back when rudy suddenly stops in the middle of a hallway, opening your mouth to protest, until you hear aggravated grunts and conversation coming from further down the corridor. before you can react, though, rudy's grabbing your shoulder to guide you as he swings open a nearby door and hastily shoves you inside it.

he slips in with you and lets out a heavy breath as the door softly clicks shut behind him, leaving you in almost total darkness. you press your back to the wall and flinch when the handle of a broom brushes against your spine, making you shuffle forward a bit to get comfortable in the cramped space.

unfortunately, "comfortable" equals standing so close to rudy that you worry about him hearing the rapid beating of your nervous heart.

you're in a small room, some kind of broom closet, with one of your superiors confined and standing just inches away from you. the shadows obscuring your face end up being your saving grace— if he could see the way you're reacting to the close proximity, you'd probably die from sheer embarrassment.

"they were heading our way?" you manage to ask, whispering through the pitch blackness.

you can make out some movement in the shadows akin to a nod. "party guests aren't allowed in this area. it's safer to hide and let them pass by." rudy mutters in reply, shifting. his hand, covered by a dark leather glove, grazes your arm lightly, his touch leaving behind a faint heat that slowly spreads through the rest of your body.

he lifts his arm fully and finds something that you can barely make out: a string, hanging in the air between you two. rudy gives it a single tug and suddenly you're squinting, eyes adjusting to the dim, artificial light that fills the small space from the bulb at the center of the ceiling.

seeing him semi-clearly again is enough to make you stare, eyes greedily drinking up his disguise as he keeps his attention trained on the little bit of space at the bottom of the door. you manage to tear your gaze from him after admiring the way the balaclava clings to his focused expression, clearly outlining strong features that you know will make you melt all over again once the mask is removed.

fleeting shadows obscure the light coming in from the crack, signaling that the group from before is passing by. you remain quiet, practically holding your breath as you watch the last person's silhouette appear and disappear under the door, the group's conversation gradually fading as they continue down the hall without a single alarm raised.

rudy goes to open the door, hand firmly wrapping around the knob, but when he tries to twist it open, you're both a little shocked at it not budging. he twists it again, but to no avail.

"mierda," he whispers harshly, fidgeting with the doorknob. "it's stuck." he adds, shooting a glance in your direction.

you briefly meet his gaze and blink at him, swiftly understanding the implications.

you're alone, very lightly armed, and trapped in a stuffy closet with your second-in-command whilst surrounded by enemies. somehow, things did find a way to get worse.

the two of you fall into a tense silence as you take in the situation: rudy, testing the strength of the door once more, and you, carefully listening for anyone nearby with an ear pressed against the wall. catching a guard's attention isn't ideal, but two or three men shouldn't be too difficult to take out discreetly.

you don't hear anything for what feels like ages. no footsteps, no voices, not even a peep from your ally. with a frustrated huff, you pull back from the wall and settle for staring into the minimal space between you and rudy.

at some point, he pulls off the mask, allowing you to drag your gaze up to his uncovered face. you can see thoughts swimming behind his dark irises, plans being formed off the cuff, preparation for any and every possible outcome. if rudy's anything, it's meticulous and levelheaded, even in a bad situation. he's everything a leader should be, and you commend him for it.

the silence lingers heavy in the air, settling like an uncomfortable weight on your shoulders. you swallow down the lump in your throat awkwardly, wracking your brain for an excuse to break it.

"first one to make a noise loses," you mumble, sending him a cursory glance.

rudy chuckles softly, his shoulders drooping slightly. he meets your gaze and seems to relax, lips twitching into a small smile. "i think you lost when you said that."

you roll your eyes half-heartedly. "that doesn't count." you lean in, mirroring his smile. "you lost by responding, though."

he concedes, lifting his hands in a mock surrender. "you got me, i guess you're the winner." he says, before letting his hands fall to his sides once more.

you're left staring at each other again. the tension dissipates with those few words, however, and you let yourself bask in the warmth of his gaze. it isn't special, you know that rudy looks at all of his allies with the same warmth, but a part of you clings to the hope that his affection is reserved for you. it's silly – juvenile, even – to think of your teammate like this. what you have is just a schoolgirl crush, feelings that he'd never reciprocate—

"you look beautiful," he utters, nearly inaudible despite the lack of other sounds. "i, uh... wanted to tell you that before the mission."

did you hear that correctly?

you keen under his praise, muttering an equally soft "thank you" before mentally kicking yourself for the awkward response and opening your mouth to speak again. "you look handsome. maybe you should've been on this mission instead." you add with a laugh.

"you were handling yourself just fine." rudy says, eyes narrowing when you shake your head.

"there's a reason why you had to step in. besides—"

"—besides, why would i miss out on this view?" he asks. you stop short, jaw practically going slack. again, did you hear that correctly?

you blink at him, dumbfounded. "that's bold."

another mental kick makes you flinch at your own reply.

gloved hands wrap around your own, guiding your hands to sit between yours and rudy's bodies. he squeezes them gently, a comforting gesture that sends a shiver coursing down your spine.

"maybe this isn't the best place to say this," he starts, thumbs rubbing soothing circles into your skin. "and, maybe that's exactly why i finally can say this, but... i've always thought that you're beautiful." he continues, voice dropping from a quiet timbre to a whisper.

"i want to be more than just teammates, if you'll have me." he quickly says, his grip tightening as his eyes search yours for an answer.

"rudy..." you trail off, before he speaks – again.

"the choice is yours. i'll respect your decision, no matter what it is."

if you didn't know better, you'd tell yourself that you're dreaming. it's not an ideal confession, not in the slightest, but there's something about it that's so very him. your chest tightens in the best way as you slide your hands from his, fingertips dancing up his arms until you cup his cheeks and bridge that final gap.

the kiss that follows is chaste and saccharine sweet. strong arms circle around your waist, drawing your body closer to his, grounding you in the moment as you threaten to slip away in the pure bliss of it.

after a few moments, you manage to pull back enough to give a verbal answer. "if we get out of here, then it's a date."

rudy chuckles, warm breath fanning against your lips. "keep your weekend open, cariño."

#fall4rudy #call of duty #cod #cod mw2 #mw2 #call of duty x reader #cod x reader #mw2 x reader #rudy x reader #rodolfo parra x reader #rodolfo rudy parra x reader #cod rudy #rodolfo parra #rodolfo rudy parra #sylph.writes

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axnrxn · 1 year

Note

hi there,

i've read your works and they are amazing! can i request the reader being bilingual and how the reactions of the cod members would be when they found out about it? (sorry for my bad english)

thank you in advance and have a good day/evening/night <3

(141, König, Alejandro Vargas, & Rudolfo Parra x GN!bilingual!reader)

TW: bad translations, fluff, some explicit sexual imagery, swearing.

Since you didn’t specify the language, I made executive decisions. A lot of google translate because I suck. Your English is great and probably better than my terrible translations! Much love<3

Simon “Ghost” Riley

“Entendido, Alejandro." (Understood, Alejandro.) acknowledging Alejandro's order.

“Ah! ¿Hablas español? Eso es bueno, sera muy útil aquí.” (Ah! You speak spanish? That's good, it will be very useful here.) Alejandro replied, chuckling and smiling back at you.

Simon turns slightly to look at you while Rudy is driving, trying not to show his surprise.

Once you two exited the vehicle and were out of earshot of the others, he confronted you about the exchange.

“When’d you learn that?”

“Learn what?”

“C’mon. You know what I’m referring to.”

“I’ve always known it. Just never had a reason to speak it before.”

“You n’ him seem to hit it off…”

“You jealous, lieutenant?”

He forced a laugh through his nose.

“Mmm, yeah right. Just don’t get too friendly with him, yeah? You’ve got a job to do, sergeant.” He placed a hand on your shoulder, before quickly realizing his proximity and pulling away.

“Don’t worry, lieutenant. You'll always be my favorite." You joked, earning an eye roll from him.

"Get a move on, sergeant." He replied gruffly, though you could tell from his tensed shoulders that you flustered him with your sarcastic proclamation.

You'd have to tease him later in his quarters about it. You loved making him jealous and flustered, the way his skin would flush with embarrassment. In private, he was much easier to tease. Especially when you would straddle his lap, his jaw in your hand as you kissed his neck. The quiet, needy moans he'd make just for you as you grinded against him.

You shook your head and regained your focus, looking forward to your time alone with your lieutenant.

Johnny “Soap” MacTavish

“Dos francotiradores en la azotea oeste, Alejandro. Ten cuidado," (Two snipers on the west rooftop, Alejandro. Be careful.) you warned, peering around a wall.

Soap turned to look at you as you awaited orders.

"Since when could you speak spanish, love?" He inquired.

"My whole life?"

"Oi! And you never thought to tell me? An' you waited til now?" You could hear Alejandro chuckle as he listened over the comms.

"Surprise" You answered sarcastically, shrugging.

"Perhaps there's more things your partner didn't tell you, Sergeant MacTavish?" Alejandro teased.

"Aye, I'm gonna learn every last bit of you when this is through." Soap said, gazing at you suggestively.

He let his free hand graze your jaw, gently running his thumb over your cheek, all while looking deep into your eyes. You wanted to be off duty with him, making him moan into your mouth as his fingers curled in your hair. He was always so vocal and expressive, you loved it. As he leaned over to kiss you, shots rang out.

"Ah, shite. Goddammit." Soap whispered.

"Raincheck, Soap." You said, quickly pecking his cheek before leaving your shared cover in favor of hiding behind a truck.

He smiled and gave you a two-finger salute, turning in sync with you to clear the road.

Captain John Price

"'Ze komen om middernacht aan.'" You repeated quietly to yourself, translating what you overheard the smugglers say.

"Their contact is arriving at midnight, 0-6." You said to Price through comms.

"Copy, 2-6," Price responded quickly.

"I'll meet you on the boat as soon as Gaz takes out the patrol." You announced, waiting for Gaz.

"On it, 2-6," Gaz responded.

You finally made your way to the boat, meeting Price at the locked gate. Once the boat was cleared of narcos, he turned to you.

“Care to share with me how you knew when they were coming?” He asked, looking at you expectantly.

"Well, there were a few people speaking Dutch around the docks." You replied, not realizing that you had never told him about learning Dutch before.

"And you didn't care to mention you knew Dutch when we found out we were going to Amsterdam?" He pressed, clearly confused more than frustrated with you.

"Honestly, I'm so exhausted that I forgot I even could. I didn't think about it." You sighed, rubbing a hand over your face.

His eyes filled with a mixture of pity and love as he finally looked over you, noting your slumped posture.

"I'll tell you what, you 'n me can head to a nice spot and get some rest before we head out in the morning. Get you a nice bed to sleep in for the night." He decided, wrapping his arms around your shoulders and pulling you into his chest, careful not to press you too hard into his bulky vest.

"But if we have a nice bed, there's other things I'd rather be doing," you teased, grabbing his ass and pulling him further into you.

He chuckled, wrapping his arms around you fully and resting his head on top of yours.

"We'll have time for that later, love. Don't you worry," he assured you. "You rest up first, then we'll see about that." He stated, finally pulling away to make his way off the boat as you trailed behind him towards your reward.

Kyle “Gaz” Garrick

"What're they doing here?" Gaz wondered aloud.

"They're a narco smuggling hub" you replied simply, popping out of the water next to him.

"How do you know?" He asked.

"They're talking about an outgoing shipment to Las Almas." You remarked, watching the smugglers walk their patrol routes along the docks slowly. "Who else from Las Almas would be picking something up here?" You pointed out, proving your point.

"Since when do you understand Dutch?"

"Since I went to college for a year abroad."

A whole new side of you was revealed to Gaz in that moment. You never really mentioned anything about your past. What led you here, why you joined the military, what your life was like before. You joined the military unusually late, but no one had ever asked you why. He'd have to finally inquire about it after the mission.

"What else have you been hiding?" He teased, turning you by the shoulder to face him.

"Mmm, I'm actually a Russian spy that knows 5 languages and was assigned to infiltrate 141." You replied sarcastically, rolling your eyes at him.

"Well they picked the best one for the job, with you being that sexy and all. We never stood a chance." He chuckled, pecking your cheek.

Alejandro Vargas

“Me encantaría tener una cita contigo, Alejandro.”(I’d love to go on a date with you, Alejandro.) You finally said, taking advantage of 141’s and Rudy’s absence. You didn’t feel like pretending you didn’t understand him anymore, as funny as some of the things you got to listen in on were.

“Me entendiste todo este tiempo?” (You understood me all this time?) His jaw practically hit the floor.

“Sí, todo este tiempo,” (Yes, all this time.) you laughed. You had heard everything Alejandro said to Rudy about you under the guise that you weren’t listening. You finally decided to reveal yourself when Alejandro mentioned to Rudy how he wanted to take you on a date after the mission was over.

He stood there, frozen, as he tried to recall everything he had ever said about you.

“You were always complimenting me and praising me when you thought I wasn’t listening. I didn’t want to just end that, you know?” You smiled, reassuring him that he hadn’t offended you.

“So you heard my plans and finally decided to tell me, hm?” He asked, regaining his composure.

“Something like that. But I wouldn’t mind pretending I didn’t understand if it means that I'll keep hearing you tell Rudy how amazing I am.”

"Ah, this will be fun. Let's pretend, yes? You can listen to all the things I want to do to you." he teased, smirking at you.

"That'll certainly keep things interesting, Ale." You blushed.

You were thinking about how quickly things had escalated between you two. How long before he actually did the things he said? His lips on your neck, whispering spanish in your ear, his hands on your ass. You wanted to grab him by his vest on the spot and curl your fingers in his hair. You could only imagine it for so long before you had to cast your thoughts away, trying to avoid getting so worked up on the job.

Rudolfo “Rudy” Parra

"This is Los Vaqueros to 141, Hassan is on the move." You stated over comms as you peered through your scope.

Rudy looked at you, confused. You realized that you didn't tell him you understood english before. When it came to talking to native english speakers, you always got too nervous and chickened out because you worried about your accent and grammar.

"Porque no me dijiste, mi amor? (Why didn't you tell me, my love?) He asked, noting how you had refused to say anything in english up until now.

"No lo use antes de ahora." (I didn't use it before now) "Tambien, mi ingles no es perfecto." (Also, my english isn't perfect.) You replied, intentionally neglecting to mention how nervous you were about being judged.

"Es bueno, estoy orgulloso de ti." (It's good, I am proud of you.) He assured you, smiling at you as you turned away from your rifle's scope.

"Gracias, Rudy. Pero, seguiremos hablando espanol cuando estemos solo, si?" (Thank you, Rudy. But we will still speak spanish when it is us alone, yes?) You inquired, hoping he wouldn't push it.

"A huevo, mi amor." (Of course, my love.) He agreed, you were pretty sure he figured out your reasoning. You leaned back into Rudy, letting his arms engulf you as you sighed. He put you at ease so quickly, almost making you forget that you were chasing down a terrorist assisted by narcos through Las Almas. But you couldn't bask in his calming presence forever, so you settle back into your previous position at your rifle.

He place his hand on your back gently, rubbing between your shoulders to keep you relaxed. You loved moments like this. No matter the situation, Rudy always did small gestures to remind you that he was right there beside you.

König

"Konig, gehst du mit mir auf ein Date?" (Konig, will you go on a date with me?" You asked, hopping atop a crate while facing him.

"What?" He asked, unable to process that you had just spoken German.

"Did I not say it correctly?" You asked, worried that your German was not up to par with your native English.

"No, no. Your German is great..." He replied slowly, gathering his thoughts.

"Is that a no?" You teased, knowing exactly what Konig was realizing.

"Shiebe, sorry, yes of course I would like that... Wait." He cut himself off, finally putting the pieces together.

"Wie lange hast du mich verstanden?" (How long have you understood me?) he inquired, panic starting to fill his voice.

"Ungefahr ein Jahr?"(About a year?) You admitted, guessing the time frame that you've known him.

"And you did not say anything?!" He panicked, thinking about everything he's every muttered about you and your body. He'd only known you for a year, meaning you've understood everything he's ever uttered.

"Well, I was gonna tell you right away, but then I heard you mutter about how pretty I was when I looked up at you... and I don't know, I guess I wanted to hear you say that more." You divulged, seeing Konig's eyes widen.

"I have said many things I shouldn't have, mein Gott..." He whispered to himself, mentally replaying everything he has ever said about you in your presence.

"If it makes you feel any better, I really like you, too, Konig." You professed, pulling his vest towards you.

A/N: I'm finally finishing my drafts, sorry for the delay! Much love. Ghost x reader x konig coming as soon as I clear my drafts!

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prismuffin · 1 year

Note

Hey!! Can I request a top male reader x Price. Reader is new to the 141 team, Laswell recruited him for the team. Little does the team know Price and reader are married, they do know that Price is married tho. The team finds out when they catch a shirtless, pants-undone Male Reader literally on top of Price, who is shirtless, only in boxers, and covered in hickeys (They were being a little too loud).

A/n: KSKSJFHSKFJHSJ YESSSS ugh he has no right to be that hot idk- also the gif>>>>

“PRICE?!”

John Price x top!male!reader

( summary: after hearing their captain's groans of pain throughout base they rush to his room only to see him underneath you, definitely not in pain )

warnings?: light swearing, light smut but it's not directly talked about

C/n means code name!

!-!more under the cut!-!

The team waited patiently as Laswell left to go grab who was supposed to be their newest recruit. She seemed to be almost laughing to herself as she described your skills and explained why you'll be a great asset to the team. For once, Price was actually unsure about who this new recruit could be, but they seemed to be well trained and very skilled from what he can gather. The door opened again, and their attention snapped to it as Laswell walked in with their newest recruit. "Boys, meet Y/n L/n, otherwise known as C/n." Price almost audibly gasped at the sight of you. His husband. Is that why Laswell was laughing? Cause she knew the whole time? "C/n? How'd you get that name?" Soap's Scottish accent cut through the room and you chuckled, "You don't wanna know." A smirk found it's way to your face as your eyes scanned over the team before landing on Price. You stared at him as Laswell introduced everyone, telling you their names and ranks, though you didn't seem to care about anyone but Price, which the team noticed. They decided not to think much of it, and some really didn't care at all (I'm looking at you Ghost).

After the meeting, Price was assigned to show you around, and by that I mean he volunteered. "I just can't believe you didn't tell me you were switching!" He whisper yelled to you as you walked together. There was a hint of amusement in his voice though he did seem to be at least a little mad at you. "What can I say? I just wanted to spend more time with my husband." You stopped walking, grabbing his waist slowly while smirking. He was quick to swat your hands away and you pouted, "What? You didn't miss me at all?" You faked a hurt expression but smiled when John rolled his eyes playfully. "Of course I miss you, I just wish I'd have gotten a bit of a bloody warnin eh?" You crossed your arms and shrugged, "Laswell thought it'd be funny." He scoffed muttering an "unbelievable," as he began walking again. You chuckled and smirked as you caught up to him, slapping his ass. He gasped and hit your arm which hurt more than you'd like to admit. You said sorry even though you clearly weren't and attempted to grab his hand only to get slapped away. You attempted again and he denied once more, that didn't stop you from trying the entire rest of the time you guys walked around base, he settled with holding your pinkie whenever no one else was in sight.

It's been about a week since you join 141 and you've mostly made friends with everyone. You'd heard a lot about Gaz from your husband so it was easy to click with him when you brought up stuff you knew he'd relate to. Soap was just easy to get along with in general and that Ghost guy is someone you're still working on. Either way currently the team had just gotten back from a small mission, they’d left both you and Price back at base for recon. After the mission was done they’d said their goodbyes over comms and took their short flight back to base. Walking in from the hanger, they all chatted - though it was mostly Gaz and Soap, Ghost didn’t mind listening in. “Aw man you should’ve seen that guys face when he realized he was out of bullets!” Gaz laughed with Soap, even Ghost let out a silent nose laugh at the two. “Yo y’alright lad?” Soap asked as he noticed that gaz had stopped laughing. “Did you hear that?” He asked and Soap slowly shook his head. “Lt?” Soap questioned and Ghost also shook his head. “Maybe you’re hearing things mate-“ Soap stopped talking abruptly as what sounded like a groan rang through the halls. “See there it is again!” “Ohhh yeah I heard that one! Ey LT, wanna check it out?” Soap shot Ghost a grin and he huffed.

“Ahh, shit-“ “Sounds like Price-“ Ghost said only to be cut off by Gaz. “You think he’s hurt?” “Doubt he’s hurt, sounds more like-“ Gaz hurried off causing Soap to laugh as Ghost sighed, following the two as they speed walk through the halls. Their captains groans only got louder the closer they got, curses being added in sometimes here and there. As they neared the shut door to Price’s room Gaz began walking a bit faster, obviously worried for his father friend. A “MmmphFuck- Y/n~” stopped Soap in his tracks, “wait that doesn’t sound like-“ Gaz busted the door open, his jaw dropping as he took in the sight before him. Price was stripped down to nothing but his boxers, his neck and chest and the inner bits of his thighs were covered in purple bruises. You hovered on top of him, pants unbuttoned, staring at the three new guests that entered the room. “Ahh shit I thought I locked the door..” they heard you mumble, all three of their eyes wide in shock.

“PRICE?!”

Gaz yelling seemingly knocked everyone (but you) out of their shocked trances. “Christ!” John shot up, bumping into your form, causing you to stumble back, gripping at the bed as to not fall. “Oh. Ohohoho-“ Soap started as he looked between the both of you. Soon after, he busted out laughing and unlike before he was the only one doing so. “Respectfully Sir, what the actual hell did I just walk in on?” Ghost spoke over Soaps loud laughter and Price could do nothing but stutter out useless excuses. “Aren’t you married?!” Gaz yelled and Soap immediately stopped laughing at that. “Ohhhhh Captain, cheating on your spouse? Not cool,” Soap looked shocked and you smirked, looking between both parties. “I’m not cheating on my-“ “Not cheating?! You’re practically naked and being fondled by this- this- new guy!” Gaz almost looked betrayed as he held his arm out towards your figure to emphasize his point. You failed to stifle a laugh and Price shot you an unimpressed look. “Gaz, calm down im not cheating on my Husband, he is my husband.” You nodded and both Soap and Gaz looked between each other. “Huh??” “Yup, it’s true I married this old guy.” You crossed your arms and jumped, feeling Price pinch you teasingly for your choice of words. “Wait so- your husband joined the team and you two didn’t say anything?!” Soap asked and you laughed, “I thought it’d be funny.” Price sighed, “It wasn’t relevant information at the time.” You shot him a false betrayed look as Gaz and Soap went silent. A deep chuckle from behind the two caught everyone attention. Simon “Ghost” Riley stood there, shoulders bouncing in what appeared to be silent laughter. “Fucking ‘ell, you lot really are something else.” He muttered and Soap’s face broke out into a grin as he started to laugh again. “I can’t believe I didn’t know.” Gaz spoke and you scoffed with a roll of your eyes. “Yeah yeah, this is all very funny but if you’ll excuse me I’d like to go back to what I was doing.” You motioned your head towards Price with a wide smirk as his face started turning red. Gaz looked borderline mortified and was quick to leave, Ghost and Soap following shortly after, though not without Soap throwing you a wink from over his shoulder.

Price groaned after the door shut, flopping backwards onto the bed with his face placed in his hands. You grabbed one, pulling it off of his face before planting a soft kiss to his cheek with a chuckle. "Sorry love, I could've sworn I locked the door." He sighed, "It's fine, s'not entirely your fault I was kind of being loud..." He mumbled and you laughed, placing a kiss to the corner of his lips. "Do you want to continue?" You asked, not so subtly grinding your hips down to resume the previous friction. He let out a breathy moan at the feeling before staring into your eyes and nodding slowly. Your face broke out into a grin as you leaned up a bit more, pulling his other hand away from his face and planting a proper kiss to his lips. That night, Price had tried to keep it down though with practically everyone already knowing what you both were up to there was really no point.

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