#Recon Mission [dash comm]

[rcckiedrill]

" Why is everyone shouting about color coded italians?! What the fuck did I miss?! What the fuck is a Mario?! "

[what-yadoking-likes]

So before my temporary departure from Tumblr I was writing a dumb, self-indulgent trope-y... thing.

I am unlikely to finish it, and it is indeed not finished, with huge time skips and a lack of... content... but there's over 1000 words so here we jolly well go:

“It’s the only way,” Bain announced grimly over the comms.

‘No it bloody well isn’t,’ Hoxton thought to himself, but said nothing. Instead he pursed his lips, doing his utmost to keep a neutral expression. 

Their next heist was going to be a big one, and required the Payday gang to do a masks-off recon mission. They were not allowed to be detected and they were, under no circumstances, allowed to kill anyone.

That still didn’t explain how Hoxton and Wolf were posing as a married couple.

Problem was, no one else seemed to think this was a dreadful idea. Chains was nodding along in agreement with Bain’s declaration, and Dallas had scribbled it down in the notepad he kept specifically for detailing their upcoming jobs. If Hoxton leaned over just a little and tilted his head, he would be able to see it, written down in blotchy blue ballpoint ink:

Distraction - married couple - Wolf/Hoxton.

The rest of the meeting continued as usual. Hoxton listened and occasionally offered his insight and a snarky comment or two, but wanted to get out of there. He had shit to do. 

Before he could leave, however, he felt a weight land on his arm.

“Hey.”

The hand belonged to Wolf. Hoxton lingered, even as Dallas and Chains left the meeting room, approaching the kitchen area for a desperately needed coffee.

Wolf’s hand was large enough to just about curl around Hoxton’s bicep. He fought the urge to flex, to tense the muscle there - give something for Wolf to really feel.

“Are you…” Wolf’s mouth worked, a crease carved between his brows in open concern, “... are you okay with this?”

Whatever misgivings Hoxton personally had about the plan, there was no reason for him to let Wolf know he had any reservations at all. He plastered a smooth, dashing grin on his face, and leered slightly into Wolf’s personal space.

“What, you bein’ my husband? I’m quite the catch, Wolfie.” He even winked to really sell it. 

Wolf huffed, smacking the Brit’s bicep playfully. “You’re so full of yourself. You’re lucky to have me as your husband.”

Hoxton’s eyebrow quirked. “Really? Why’s that, then?”

Wolf smirked, and leaned in close. Hoxton tilted his head. He could feel Wolf’s breath caress against his ear, disturbing the stray hairs that lay there - he resisted the pleasant shiver that skated down his spine.

“Because,” Wolf whispered, his low rumbling voice deep, the words dancing just so against Hoxton’s ear to send even more delicious sensations through him, “it could be so, so much worse. I could be Houston.”

The pleasant sensations came to an abrupt end. “No fucking way would they believe I’d stoop to the level of that thing,” Hoxton snarled. Wolf jumped back, laughing and walking off to join the others.

Well. If Wolf wasn’t bothered, then Hoxton wasn’t going to worry himself about it. They’d get in, do whatever they needed to do, and get out again. Easy - simple - uncomplicated. Just the way he liked it.

[peterbarnes]

Boop

Summary: Bucky gets triggered into the Winter Soldier on a mission. You do everything you can to get him back, including taking on a dozen SHIELD agents and doing the stupidest thing you’ve ever done in your life. 

Word Count: 2.1k

Masterlist

Alarms blared throughout the compound.

You were sitting at your desk, head down on the cool metal as you slept through your shift. When the noise sounded, you shot up from your spot and looked around for the emergency. You silently let out a breath, grateful that nobody was there to catch you napping or stare at your now disheveled appearance. You pressed down on your S.H.I.E.L.D uniform trying to get out the wrinkles even though it was a lost cause.  Nice one, [Y/L/N]. You’ve only been here a year, try not to get fired. 

The alarm had almost been forgotten until someone opened the glass door to the control center, causing it to bang harshly against the wall. 

You’d never seen Steve Rogers in such panic before. He was usually so put together, not a hair out of place. He was Captain America, after all. Icons have no room for slip-ups, even when saving the world from alien invasions. That’s how you knew something was wrong. There wasn’t one hair out of place, there were several. His eyes were darker than their usual bright, welcoming blue. They weren’t warm, they were cold and scared. Steve Rogers never got scared.

“Steve, what’s wrong?”

“Bucky.”

You had never run faster in your entire life. There’s a reason you weren’t a field op, and just ran missions from the control center. You weren’t necessarily athletically inclined, but that didn’t matter right now. You pushed down the burning in your lungs and the sweat dotting your forehead as your legs carried you from one side of the compound to the other. Steve was right next to you, purposefully slowing himself down so he wouldn’t leave you behind. 

As soon as he said your boyfriend’s name, you had dashed out of the room. You didn’t have time to listen to a whole story before leaving. He needed you. So as you began to run, you told Steve to fill you in on the way there. And considering you had no idea where Bucky was, you let him lead the way.   

“Someone hacked into the comms on our mission. They had to have been Hydra because they started saying the words.”

“What words?” You asked, panting.

“Those words, [Y/N]. He tried to fight it, but… there was nothing he could do.”

As something trickled down your cheek, you couldn’t tell if it was sweat or if you were crying. Your mind had already started whirling, imagining Bucky in some dark underground warehouse on what was supposed to be an easy recon mission. You pictured the fear that must have overtaken his face when the voice started to speak the words that haunted his dreams. The words that he had tried so hard to cleanse himself off. But the scariest thing that you imagined was him eventually adopting a look of defeat as he realized that no matter what he did, how many therapy sessions he went to, no matter how many amends he made, he will always still be there. And he will always been stronger than him. You just prayed that you were assuming the worst and that Bucky hadn’t gone to that place mentally because it wasn’t true. None of it. There’s no one stronger than Bucky, especially not the Winter Soldier. 

When you got to the main level of the compound, the last thing you expected to see was Bucky being circled by what looked like two dozen armed agents. His fists were clenched and you see the gears turning in the soldier’s head as he tried to formulate a plan. Steve had gone to get Tony, hoping to initiate the lockdown protocol before Bucky could leave and hurt anyone else. You were on your own. 

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw one agent push down on the trigger, almost enough to release a bullet and shoot Bucky. Your blood ran cold, knowing that one wrong move could take your boyfriend from you permanently.

“Hold your fire!” You shouted, running into the center of the room and holding your arms out towards the agents to keep them back. You were a high-ranking agent, but considering these were field agents you had no authority over them.

“You don’t give the orders around here,” one of the agents snarled.

“That doesn’t mean I’m going to let you shoot him.”

Your teeth were gritted as you tried to think of what to do next. You always thought that if you were in a situation with this many guns pointed at you, ready to shoot, your instincts would kick in and some great idea would come to mind. But that didn’t happen, instead, your mind ran blank and your hands shook. 

You opened your mouth to try to reason with the agents, but before that could happen, you heard a scream from behind you. You snapped around to find Bucky picking up two agents and throwing them into the others. It was like dominos, watching the agents knock into each other. The people who weren’t knocked down were too surprised to act when Bucky made a break for it, running down the nearest hallway. Not you, though, you could care less about those agents, he was your only focus. 

The problem with trying to catch a super-soldier was that they were so damn fast. The speed at which Bucky was sprinting through the compound made you look as if you were casually jogging, even though it felt like you were on the brink of passing out. 

Suddenly, a large door slammed down in front of Bucky from the ceiling. The vibranium glinted against the fluorescent lights, the only other thing on the door being a tiny, square window towards the top. 

Bucky skidded to a stop, his shoes squeaking against the floor. You could faintly hear him growl before he started to bang on the door. He was feral, like an animal in a cage. 

You saw a door in front of you start to descend from the ceiling. Your heart rate picked up, knowing that if it dropped in front of you, you wouldn’t be able to get to Bucky. He would be on his own, separated from you, and possibly from his true self, by a single door. 

Your feet slapped hard against the floor as you pushed yourself to run harder, faster. When the door got halfway down, you dove, sliding under it until you heard it slam behind you. 

You hadn’t even noticed the banging of Bucky’s fist stop until you looked up from the floor to see him towering over you. 

You scattered to get up from the ground and face him. You planted your feet firmly on the ground as you looked at him.

“You’re not going to hurt me,” you whispered. 

“My mission is to kill anyone in my way.”

His voice was not what you expected- it was deeper than it usually was, emotionless. You’re so used to hearing your boyfriend’s light tone or a loud laugh escaping his lips at a corny joke you told, so this startled you.

He walked towards you menacingly, and though you weren’t scared of him, you couldn’t help but back up. Eventually, there was no more space left and your back was flat against the metal door. Your breath hitched as Bucky stopped right in front of you. His eyes were vacant and distant as they bored into yours. 

“You’re not going to hurt me,” you repeated, your voice more firm and assertive than last time. “Because no matter what, no matter how much you’re brainwashed, your still Bucky. My Bucky. And my Bucky wouldn’t lay a finger on me.”  

This time Bucky didn’t say anything, but you could see him gritting his teeth. He lifted his arm as if to strike and you scrambled for something to do. You couldn’t fight him obviously, you’d never win. There was nowhere to run considering he was boxing you in against the door. And even if you could slip under his arm and give yourself a few feet of space, you were trapped between two doors about twelve feet away from each other. Him catching you would be inevitable. So you panicked and did the first thing that came to mind.

You booped his nose. 

And to make it worse, you made the little “boop” sound right as the pad of your finger came in contact with his smooth skin.

Really? That was the best you could do?

You mentally facepalmed at your stupidity and waited for whatever the Winter Soldier would do next, knowing that if you got slapped around you probably deserved it for that move. Your eyes were squeezed shut, but when the hit never came, you slowly opened one and peeked at the man in front of you.

His eyes were squeezed shut too and his face was grimaced as if he was in pain. His fingers were tangled in his hair, pulling at the roots. The thing about the Winter Soldier is that even though deep down, Bucky’s still in there, fighting as hard as he can, the soldier has none of his mannerisms. Everything about him is different, the way he walks, the way he talks. But this, this is something that Bucky does whenever he’s overwhelmed and needs to ground himself.

“Bucky?” You let out, your voice cracking.

His eyes shuttered open at the sound of your voice. They weren’t dark anymore. You were able to swim in his cerulean sea again. Letting out a breath you didn’t know you were holding, you reached out to him, cupping his face in your hands and rubbing your thumbs over his rough stubble.

“Doll?” 

His voice was shaking like a little kid scared of the dark. So you became his light. You wrapped your arms around him, drawing his large figure into you. Being with you was like instinct for him, so he was quick to bury his head into your neck and snake his arms around your waist.

“I’m so sorry,” he whimpered into your neck, placing a delicate kiss there.

“Not your fault. Not even close to being your fault.”

You kissed his hair, rubbing up and down his back. 

“You came back, Buck. That was amazing.”

He slowly removed himself from your arms, staring at you curiously.  

“You booped my nose.”

You cringed.

“Oh god, look I panicked okay? I know it was stupid-”

Before you could finish your sentence, Bucky leaned down and locked his lips with your own. Kisses with Bucky were always passionate, and this was no different, but it was slower, more intimate. It was almost like as his lips moved, you could hear them forming a soft “thank you.” 

“Genius, actually,” Bucky whispered on your lips. He was so close you could feel his breath on your face and his nose against your cheek.

“It was so utterly ridiculous that it- I don’t even know what it did. But suddenly everything that was out of focus became so clear. Like it was just you and me in your room, making fools of ourselves. No Hydra, no Winter Soldier, just us being [Y/N] and Bucky. You and me, doll. Nothing else existed at that moment.” 

“Hey,” you replied softly, tears gathering in your own eyes now. “It’s you and me always, got it, Barnes? If I have to boop your nose a million times, no matter how fucking stupid I look, I’ll do it.”

You both giggled and Bucky pressed his forehead against yours. You went to kiss him again before the vibranium doors on either side of you lifted and disappeared back into the ceiling. You heard slow, dramatic clapping before you turned your head to the left and saw Tony standing there.

“That was lovely, truly,” he said, wiping a fake tear from his eye.

“Leave them alone, Tony,” said Steve, chuckling as he walked up to Tony’s side. 

“What? I’m simply basking in the presence of true love.”

“Damn right you are,” Bucky growled jokingly, wrapping his arm around your shoulder. You leaned into him, resting your head on his chest. You could feel the warmth radiating from his body, and while he always said it was from the serum, you liked the idea of people with warm hearts having warm bodies.  

“Come on,” you told him, leaving his embrace and taking his hand instead. “Time for bed, it’s been a long day.”

“Don’t I know it.”

[agentcomstock]

Remember Me

This… this wasn't supposed to happen.

They weren't supposed to be caught in the crossfire.

Charlie was simply overwatch. How could AQ find them? How was their position compromised? Who knew about the mission?

"Charlie to Bravo this is 3-1, there are walkers about 50 meters to your south, stay frosty." K.A.T's radio chirped silent as he broadcast, listening to a few seconds of static.

"2-3 copy, keep an eye out to our west, been hearing some interference for about 20 minutes. Doesn't get any clearer as we approach the HZ, better safe than sorry." Atlas radioed back and K.A.T moved his scope to the west immediately.

3 AQ mutts, kicking rocks and laughing. K.A.T called an all clear, but to stay low.

141 was on a simple recon mission. Get in unseen, find documents leading to a local hotshot that quickly rose to power, and get out — Alive.

They weren't all so lucky.

"Ambush!" Captain Price yelled out suddenly. Gunfire and the sounds of rpg's rushing by just barely registered before she was already behind cover, firing over the rocks.

Bullets whizzed past the rocks, lodging themselves just feet away, exploding after impact.

"K.A.T! D-zzt- copy? We'-zzt- ambush! Soap's -zzt- -own. Gaz no-!" Atlas' comms crackled like hell, but it fell on deaf ears.

"Atlas! Go find K.A.T! Call an exfil!" Price found her cover and gave orders, shooting targets left and right.

She scrambled from her spot and dashed up the hill, taking a few bullets to the back and arms. It didn't hurt her. At this moment she felt no pain; at least not physically.

As she crested the hill, she spotted lifeless bodies. Her blood ran cold and fell to her knees, crawling with fading strength. K.A.T's body was the farthest away. It was absolute hell through the mud, gunfire, and a starless night. She reached him only after catching multiple bullets to her arm and torso. Atlas shoved a dead AQ off of him, taking off his helmet so she could observe the damage. The screen was broken; a single bullet was lodged in the padding, but he'd been knocked out before being shot. He wasn't in good shape and Atlas knew this.

She was scared.

"K.A.T! No!"

———————

"Atlas, ya gotta eat something." Soap set down a cup of coffee and a bagel in front of Atlas, coaxing her to do something but stare at a wall all day. He sighed and sat down next to her, fixing her disheveled hospital gown and bandages.

She had a total of 10 bullet wounds, 9 removed. The last one was caught in her knee, but not affecting range of motion or weight bearing ability.

In her head ran the moments leading up to the ambush. Who could have done this? Was it a trap to begin with? She was the one who Price trusted to lead this mission.

Over the last few weeks, she had shown incredible growth as a teammate and as a person. Nabbing K.A.T from where he was was the best decision Price thought he ever made besides bringing Soap and Ghost to 141.

"Yer still injured, doll. Ya gotta get some rest. Worrying about K.A.T isn't gonna help at all." He pushed, trying to get her to do something. Every morning since waking up, she would trudge over to K.A.T's room and sit across the hall, just staring at the door. "I'll call Simon." Soap's voice was low and threatening.

Atlas' eyes flickered, as if a robot was rebooting. She slowly turned her head to meet Soap's gaze, taking the bagel and eating a bite.

"I'll fucking kill you." Her words dripped with acid violence, causing Soap to shudder. Her eyes, once brilliant blue like the ocean, were wrought iron grey — emotionless, cold, devoid of anything but hatred towards herself. She could not forgive herself for leading K.A.T into that death sentence. Of course, she could never and would never hurt Soap. Atlas had enough blood on her hands as it was, but he was still bothered by her words.

The two sat for a while. Nurses came by every once in a while to give Atlas her medications; most of which were painkillers. Soap was simply astonished she could even stay awake though the rounds.

"Calliope, yes?" A nurse called out to her.

"Atlas. It's not a good idea to agitate." Atlas looked up to find Simon standing in front of her, hand extended for her to take.

"Hey kid, he's awake, but there's something you should know first—"

She was gone after the first four words, shoulder checking Simon by accident.

"K.A.T… fy ngoleuni…" Atlas stopped at the foot of his bed breathless. His prosthetics were off to the side, mangled and broken from various bullet entry holes. K.A.T's face was decorated with new scars from being knocked down with the stock of a shotgun and grazes from ammunition. His beautiful fiery red hair was wrapped up neatly by blood soaked bandages and Atlas wanted nothing more than to run her hands though and mess it up— blood and all.

His gaze slowly met hers, unsure of who the person was standing in front of him.

"Ah… Dia dhuit, I'm K.A.T"

Her heart sank to the deepest depths of her body, like it was replaced with tungsten steel. Atlas' knees lost strength and she collapsed, unable to stop the agonizing sobs that escaped her still sand-blasted lips. Simon and Soap rushed in, trying to calm her as she thrashed around. The two men's hearts broke listening to her excruciating howls, being careful not to hurt her further despite the struggle.

"Why?! Why couldn't it — Why couldn't it have been me?!" She screamed to a God that would not answer. He never answered.

The nurses called in medical security while Simon and Soap pinned her down. For being about their size, she was hell to deal with.

MS came in with a needle full of Lorazepam and stuck her with it. In a few moments her cries turned to small pleas of bargaining.

"Remember me… please K.A.T…" her sobs were quiet now, far and few between as the drugs ran through her blood, taking her down like an assassin in the night.

"Steamin bloody Jesus, Atlas…" Soap gently cradled her unconscious body, rocking her back and forth to give some sort of comfort as other nurses prepped another gurney.

"We'll get this figured out, we always do Johnny." Simon gave Soap a pat on the back as he helped him get Atlas on the bed. He hesitated for a moment before putting on the soft restraints, remembering his own disposition to being detained.

—————————————

"Captain Price, there's been a situation." Gaz walked into Price's office without knocking, immediately letting him know the severity of the circumstance.

He nodded, motioning for Gaz to proceed.

"Calliope is currently unfit for duty at this time, she was sedated after a breakdown. K.A.T is also unfit for duty at this time, a case of amnesia and his prosthetics are simply too damaged to be used appropriately." Gaz gave a brief rundown, watching Price pace back and forth.

"What happened to Atlas?" His voice seethed on her name, stressing the correction.

"Atlas went to visit K.A.T in his room without hearing Ghost out on his current health. It was too much for her and she basically lost her goddamn mind." He said bluntly. Price swore under his breath before walking over to a filing cabinet and rummaging through some old files, grabbing two seemingly new manila folders.

"We grab these two for now, but until I get an all clear for them both, I do not want either of them out on the field. These two will be their replacements." Price slapped down the two files.

Niko 'Mediman' Attano

"Haribo"

[birdlungg]

Codename: Voodoo - Chapter 1

"Flag, the target is arriving at the front entrance now. Economos says he's got 3 guards with him."

Rick took a breath and forced himself to relax against the bar he was pressed against. Waller had sent him on a recon mission at a gala that some rich asshole was running. The guy had been supplying weapons to terrorists and had been out of the public eye for some time. Considering this was his first public appearance since making it big, Waller had sent him to 'take care of the problem'.

"Leave it to the douche to be fashionably late to his own party," Rick grumbled into his ear piece.

"Ok, he's walking in now. God, this asshole is even wearing a white suit!" Rick could practically hear Harcourt grimace as she said it. Rick snorted lightly to himself and nonchalantly glanced over his shoulder. The man was indeed wearing a stark white suit that stood out quite a bit in the sea of black suits and dresses.

"I'll keep an eye on him, I see 2 guards posted at every exit, and some walking the floor. I'll see if I can-"

"Hi, can I get a whiskey on the rocks, please?"

Rick is cut off by a sudden voice beside him. He turns to see who caused the interruption and can feel his jaw go slack.

The woman was gorgeous. Dark skinned with long, sleek black hair pulled over one shoulder. Her beauty is just enhanced by the beautiful red dress she's wearing. As she turns toward Rick he can see that her beautiful brown eyes are lined with an accentuating cat eye liner. Her pouty lips are a ruby red, matching her dress perfectly. She smiles at him and flutters her eyelashes.

"Sorry for getting into your personal space. This was the only spot I could wiggle into." Her soft voice is low and sultry, and she extends a hand to him. "I'm Tanya."

Rick snaps his mouth shut and clears his throat, his own suit collar feeling unnecessarily tight suddenly.

"I'm uh, I'm Rick. Nice to meet you." He shakes her smaller hand and notes how soft her skin feels.

"Uh Rick, I thought you were going to use a code name? Or are you just a little lovestruck right now?" He can hear Harcourt and the rest of ARGUS laughing at him, but can't find it in him to care.

"It's nice to meet you, Rick". Tanya smiles a blinding grin, and grabs her drink from where it was placed before her on the bar. "I've actually gotta dash, I hope I run into you again." She winks at him before slamming back the alcohol in her hand. She places it back on the bar and saunters into the crowd. Rick watches her go, trying to be respectful even when her (admittedly rather nice) ass was facing his way.

He hears someone whistle into his comm and snaps back to reality. He clears his throat once more and brings his hand up to fiddle with his tie. "Ok, where is the target now?"

Harcourt laughs once more. "He's on the west side of the ballroom. Uh oh, looks like he's chatting up your girl."

Without even realizing, Rick's head snaps in that direction. Sure enough, there's Tanya talking to the target. The man is awfully touchy feely with her, his hand settling on her waist as she sends him the same bright smile that Rick saw just moments before.

"Ooh, tough luck buddy." This time it's Economos' voice in his ear, and he grinds his teeth a bit.

Rick watches as the slimy businessman leads Tanya toward a set of stairs close to where they were standing. His hand finds its way to the small of her back as she gracefully ascends the stairs. Rick sees as his bodyguards try to follow, but the target waves them off with a wink.

As soon as they get out of sight, Harcourt sounds once again. "Ok this is good. Wait a couple of minutes and follow. Without his guards he'll be even easier to take out."

Rick lets a few moments pass, before heading to the stair himself. He glances around cautiously, but thankfully not even the target's guards are paying him any attention. Reaching the top of the stair, he keeps moving through a long ornate hallway of doors.

"They're in the 3rd door on your left," Economos tells him as he moves.

Rick reaches the door and looks around, making sure no one else is in sight before carefully and slowly turning the handle. He steps in quickly and shuts the door behind himself, grabbing the handgun from the waistband of his pants. Facing the middle of the room with his gun raised, he can see that the bed is blocked by a walled partition. He hears noises coming from that direction, and just as he's about to take a step, the target stumbles out.

He's clutching his neck with both hands as blood splurts between his fingers. Rick's adrenaline starts pumping as the man reaches out for him. He gargles a few unintelligible words before collapsing to his knees and then onto the ground. Rick bends and places two fingers on his neck. No pulse. He can see now that his hands had gone slack that his throat had been slit.

"Rick, what's going on?" He can hear Harcourt's panicked voice in his ear, but he gets distracted by Tanya walking into view.

Her red dress is even darker now as her entire front half is covered in blood. She walks towards him calmly, twirling a dagger in her hands. She stops a few feet away from him. He raises his gun and aims at her torso, trying to figure out what just happened.

"Who the hell are you?" Rick barks at her? Tanya shakes her head slightly and grins at him again.

"Sorry handsome, I don't kiss and tell." She looks down at the body between them and wrinkles her nose in disgust. Glancing back at Rick through her eyelashes, she breathes out a sigh.

"Sorry about this next part." Without even a pause, Tanya brings the blade up her throat, slicing it open in one clean motion. Her body buckles, and Rick drops his gun and catches her before she falls to the ground. He brings his hand up to her neck to stop the flow of blood, but realizes she's already gone as there's no light in her eyes anymore.

Rick shakily lowers her to the floor, and backs up a few paces.

"Target is down, one civilian casualty. Requesting immediate evac." Rick grabs his gun from the floor before realizing that his hands and dress shirt are covered in blood.

"There's a stairwell at the end of the hallway that will take you down to the ground floor. Two doors down on the left is the emergency exit that takes you to the parking garage. By the time you get there we should have a vehicle to pick you up." Harcourt tells him.

With one more steadying breath and a look at Tanya's body, he opens the door and leaves.

[whirlybirbs]

                                          (   gif, again, by @barissoffee​ !    )

     —   STARJOCKEY & CO.   ;   2 of ?

summary: the bad batch gets a pilot, and they get a mission. acid rain happens. hunter & zip still don’t get along. no one is surprised. pairing: twi’lek!reader (zip nickname) x hunter word count: 3.2k a/n: pumping this out so i can write some hunter/reader content tonight to follow this character arc! we love some good ol’ action adventure acid rain! also, don’t try and neutralize acid with water, kids. that’s not how that works. but this is star wars, and it works here.

previous chapter   |   next (coming soon!)

It’s too early for this. 

Despite having a steaming thermos of caf in your hands, you still have to pull your eyes open wide and try not to sway on your feel as you remind yourself this debrief is important. Very important. 

Very early, but very important

Sleep, too, especially after the amount of hours you poured into repairs on the Havoc Marauder last night, is equally as important — but the debrief takes priority. For now. 

Maybe you can bribe D-M1 to pilot for a bit once you take off. Just so you can plant your head on the dash and doze for a minute. A loth-cat nap. 

Ugh -- a nap sounds good right about now. 

You take a long sip of caf and rub your face as Cody continues to speak, gesturing to the glowing blue holomap that casts a glow across the entire room.

Through the thick of the swirling mission debrief, Hunter is staring.

Well, more glaring, really.

(Can you blame him? His senses have been cranked to 12 since he was made, and still, he can’t ignore the smell of your morning beverage of choice. All he can smell is your caf and the elaborator creamer you’d put in it. It smells like cocoa and star-cherries and caf and it’s all Hunter can smell. It’s giving him a damn headache.)

You’re beginning to wonder if that’s all his stupid -- albeit handsome -- face does. The scowl there digs in deep, and you have to try your hardest not to roll your eyes as you take another sip of your caf. 

He’d walked in here, hauled the helmet off, and you’d realized Cody was right when he said they didn’t look like the other clones you knew. They were all different -- higher cheekbones on Crosshair and a sharper profile on Hunter. Tech was small and boggly-eyed, while Wrecker towered over everyone in the room with his round ol’ dome.

They were nothing like the others from the 212th. 

Your lekku twitch, swatting a bit, as your attention moves from challenging Hunter’s glare back to the debrief at hand. 

Hunter, as he pries his eyes away from your cock-hipped posture, wonders how  in hell a civvie like you managed to land this job. He’d much rather have a reg flying him and his brothers around than a ex-criminal and her junkyard droid.

... He heaves an inward sigh. 

Maybe he’s being a dick. 

Cody trusts you. Hunter can at least try... 

... Right?

Hunter diverts his attention back to Cody’s words, ignoring the unsettling idea of being civil with you. “What’s the status of Yanibar’s alliance?”

“None,” Cody drops a hand to his hip, resting it on his holster, “Neutral -- but it lays between the Outer Rim and Unknown Regions. The inhabitants tend to be those running from things like the war. But, I’m sure the Separatists will have their eye on the space ports for GAR officials. It’ll be basic recon. You fly in under the radar, scope out the manufacturing lab on Yanibar, and get out.”

Cody pauses, takes in the affirmative nods of the room, then continues:

“And lucky for all of you -- that ship in the hangar has no Republic tags. You’re gonna be a ghost.”

“No Republic tags?” Hunter asks, dark brow lifting. 

“We’ll be off the books -- Seps will think we’re probably just smugglers,” you shrug, explaining as Tech hums quietly at the realization, “Knowing them, they won’t wanna start anything with locals. Especially if they’re break neutrality laws and mining a planet in the grey zone.”

“Exactly.”

You cop a smirk Cody’s way. “Now I know why you kept that bucket of bolts.”

“Repo’s have their uses,” the Commander shirks, “And civvie pilots, too.”

Now this is all starting to make sense. They wanted you to play the part -- and with any luck, the boys in the back cargo hold will go unnoticed as you carry on on Yanibar. 

D-M1 pipes up from her spot below the holo-map. “Zip plays a wonderful smuggler. Four varying counts of weapons, drug and wildlife trade have made her --”

“Alright, alright,” we swat at the droid’s bobbing head, “I swear, who ever programmed you should be shot.”

The droid makes a sound akin to a laugh. Cody snorts.

Hunter ignores the distrust settling under his skin. 

“Everyone got the plan?” Cody asks, looking around the command center. When he’s met with silence, he nods to dismiss the Bad Batch and their new pilot, “Alright. Head out. Comm in if there’s any trouble.”

“You got it, Commander.”

“Hunter?” Cody calls, “Zip?”

You both linger in the doorway. 

“Play nice, yea?” he grins, “And good luck.”

--   ↯   --

You realize, six hours later, as you hang yourself out of the landing ramp mid-flight, trying desperately to get a hold on Crosshair who’s trying to get a hold on Hunter, that Cody jinxed you.

He most definitely jinxed you.

--   ↯   --

The mission had started just fine, after all -- the ride was fast, the travel checkpoints passed with no trouble, and you’d entered Yanibar’s airspace on a pretty mild day. No questions were asked when you dropped the Havoc Marauder down fifteen klicks outside of the nearest space port. The boys off-loaded and headed for the manufacturing plant. 

The landscape gave enough cover as if it. 

Large, sweeping stone outcroppings punctured the dunes and climbed high towards the sky, casting long jagged shadows in the golden sand. Creatures moved with the shade, relaxing along the cooling surfaces as the suns moved high in the sky. 

Parked in a ravine and hidden from sight, you’d spent the first two hours monitoring the location of the Batch; every half hour, Tech would radio in giving an update on their location. By hour four, they were close. By hour five, the line had gone silent.

And you were starting to get nervous. 

Their geo-coordinates marked them about 30 klicks East -- in the estimated area of the manufacturing lab they were slotted to recon. 

By hour five and a half, the sun was disappearing. Slowly, with clouds shrouding the sky, but... the spaces between the brown clouds were turning a muddied color. You leaned, squinting over the dashboard with a confused look, before moving to the back of the ship and punching open the landing ramp. 

When you stepped into the hot, mid-day heat, you realized exactly what was happening. You kicked yourself for not realizing sooner.

D-M1′s the one that made a panicked sound. 

“We’ve got a problem!”

You were fast, bounding up the ramp and skidding inside as you slam the lock for the door on your way to the cockpit -- in a flash, you’d started up the engine and flicked alive the comms.

“Boys,” you yelped, pulling the headset on over your lekku, “We’ve gotta get a move on, now.” 

Hunter, elbows deep in a dune with his eyes plastered to a pair of specs, cursed. Your voice crackled from his helmet, resting between him and Crosshair, and Hunter was almost inclined to ignore it.

But, the sniper tapped his wrist without looking from his scope and spoke. 

“Go ahead, Zip.”

“Acid rain storm,” you blurted out, leaning as D-M1 points at the meteorological gauge in her little hands in a panic. The radar swept across the map once and showed the brewing storms, “About five klicks South of me.”

You knew acid rain storms. The planet you’d grown up on had them enough -- and even Coruscant had them. But, the color of these clouds...

Your father always used to say, the dirtier the cloud, the quicker the shroud. 

Y’know, like death shrouds? 

“-- Shit.”

Hunter was hoping that feeling in his gut was nothing. He should have listened to it.

“She couldn’t a’ told us sooner?” Hunter gritted out, pushing up from his elbows in a flash. Not entirely fair, but damn. This was not going according to plan. First the patrol droids and now --

A deep bellow of thunder rolled in the distance, then.

And now this. 

Crosshair inhaled sharply and proceeded to silently snap the attached scope from his rifle in one swift, practiced move. He’s not gettin’ in the middle of this.

“Unless you boys wanna melt your pretty armor,” came your voice, crackling alive in Hunter’s helmet as he pulled it over his head, “I’d say we hurry this little play date up --”

And that’s the precise moment Wrecker snapped one of three patrol droids over his thigh, much to Tech’s despair, and sent the entire op down the shitter. 

You found the squadron, then, pinned in a rain of blaster-fire, trading shots with the handful of B1′s -- their shots lit up the kicked up sand from the winds, beginning to howl as the dark brown clouds to the South began to loom over the once sunny dunes. 

“Bring it down low, Deemi!” you hollered, throwing your headset as you moved to the back of the ship, “Get ready to go when they’re loaded on!”

“Got it!”

You punched the ramp, pulling your green tinted goggles down over the slop of your nose as the door opened. Taking a braced step out, you were fast to spy the boys as the Havoc Marauder began to lower itself slowly. 

Then, a blaster bolt skimmed your head -- it leaves a charred sizzzzle against the matte black paint job of the repo’d ship.

You leaned back, tugging your pistol from you hip and firing a quick volley back at the droid who’d aimed for your head. After three shots, you nailed the B1 unit down, and turned your attention back to the Bad Batch. 

You’re about to wave Deemi down, to tell her to plant the ramp on a rising dune then, when an entire squadron’s worth of battle droids lumbered from the back entrance of the manufacturing plant and began laying down fire on you and the ship. 

“SWING IT AROUND!” Hunter screamed, waving you off.

Deemi listened, and you fell back through the door as the ship pulls away fast from the oncoming fire. Your back hit the navicomputer’s paneling hard as the ship banked left, and your breath flew from your lungs as you did, gritting your teeth tightly at the impact. 

You scrambled, quickly, to watch from the open side-ramp as the entirety of the plant came into view. 

It’s huge. 

A main control tower rises high in the sky, above the three conveyor bays that spark through the small slitted windows three stories up. The walls are encroached by dunes, and the desert threatens to swallow it up. 

As Deemi banked wide, you planted your boot on the doorway as you watched the firefight disappear around the edge of the massive building. 

And that’s when it started to rain.

You hissed loudly then, immediately drawing a hand back when a fat droplet of brownish water hits your skin. Cursing as you swiped away the acidic liquid, you scowled at the welt it left behind. 

And if the from the drop in temperature was any indication, it was about to pour.

“Deemi,” you screamed, “I’m gonna need you to speed it up!” 

You were fast to stagger back from the doorway, moving to haul the bottom of your flight suit up -- the sleeves, tied neatly over your belt, are yanked onto your arms and over the black compression top. You zipped the collar up tight and moved to the storage built into the bunk atop the navi-console.

“Come on, come on,” you muttered, digging around. You knew you saw a poncho somewhere and -- “Aha!”

It’s not much, but it at least covered your lekku. If anything it will keep the sensitive skin of the head-tails safe enough for a few minutes. You hauled the black, weatherproof poncho over your head and ignore the musty smell coming from it -- just in time, too, as Deemi had propelled the engines into a kick for the banking maneuver and the Bad Batch was in sight again. 

The moment you and Deemi get in range, the skies opened up. 

It starts raining so hard you could hardly see -- and the headlamps of the boys illuminated the muddied downpour a few feet ahead of them. Deemi bought the ship down low enough that the ramp connects with the tip of a dune, and you staggered a bit on the impact.

The ship’s lights cast bright cones of light into the acid rain storm, and Tech is the first one through the doors. You curse, ignoring the tingling sting of the rain splashing on your face, and call out to the others. 

“GET ON!” 

Wrecker is next, passing you and launching himself through the doors with a curse -- the droids have seemed to back off, leaving the squadron to book it as the acidity begins to gnaw at their armor. You can hear a commotion behind you, and assume it’s Tech snagging the gallon of filtered water stored under the refresher sink to dowse himself and the heavy artillery man. 

Next is Crosshairs, who you reached out to as he planted a boot on the edge of the ramp -- without warning and rather suddenly, the ship gave a terrible moan. Then, unceremoniously, the dune the ramp had been perched upon tumbled downwards into a slip of mud.

The landscape was melting, and so was your poncho.

In a panic, you grabbed Crosshair’s vambrace and barely managed to snag the ramp’s guard rail; in a flash, Crosshair had Hunter’s hand secured in his own. Good thing, too, since the Sergeant’s boots now hung thirty feet in the air where the tip of the towering dune used to be. 

And that’s where you find yourself now.

Cursing, you strain to readjust your grip on the railing as rain runs down your chin. It stings like a bitch -- but you can’t help but think the pull of your arm is a little worse. 

You curse sharply in Ryl, and scream Wrecker’s name so harshly the trooper’s heart nearly stops. His helmeted head whips around.

“DON’T JUST STAND THERE!” 

Your knuckles, beneath the thick flight gloves have gone from a warm peach to a pale yellow -- the strain there is only relieved when Wrecker finally moves to the other side of the ramp and grabs Crosshair’s upper arm; together you both haul the two troopers up onto the ramp as Deemi’s banks backwards -- a few moments too late -- and sends a pile of acid rain soaked bodies tumbling back into the belly of the ship. 

The droid closes the ramp as she banks away from the manufacturing plant.

You don’t even have time to celebrate the sheer survival of the stunt -- you’re instead stripping off the poncho that’s now got Republic credit sized holes eaten into it. You whip off your goggles, and curse again -- your flight suit is starting to sizzle and the acid on your face hurts and --

Suddenly, you take a whole bucket of water to the face and it all stops.

Tech, standing there clutching the now empty bucket, looks rather sheepish. 

Your shoulders immediately sag in relief, and the troopers behind you are the next victims of Tech’s hose-down. Deemi, from the front of the ship, asks if she should drop into hyperspace and the entire cabin gives a dejected chorus of yes at the same time. 

You wipe the neutral water, running over your nose and chin, from your face as you sit down in one of the chairs by the navicomputer. 

Hunter drops his hands to his waist, chest heaving as he tries to catch his breath, and opens his mouth to speak.

You, instead, cut him off with a single raised finger and a pointed look.

“You,” you snap, “Don’t get to say a word to me until my face is not swollen and Tech can confirm I don’t have acid rain poisoning. Understood?”

Hunter just snaps his mouth shut. You have welts down your cheeks from where your goggles met your skin. Your lekku, too, don the same blistered orange marks. Guilt suddenly washes over him, only for a second. He’d gotten off easy. The acid rain had only eaten through the first layer of his composite armor.

The whole cabin, suddenly incredibly uncomfortable, decides to go their separate ways. Hunter, though, doesn’t move. Instead, he watches as you stand and inspect the now shredded flight suit that hangs off of you. You move across the cabin quickly, not bothering to avoid him. 

You slam your shoulder into his and keep moving.

--   ↯   --

You don’t have acid rain poisoning.

Which is good, you guess.

But, the residuals still hurt -- bad. 

You throw yourself into the far-too-small ship refresher for a rinse off -- Wrecker was nice enough to insist you get to go first (“For savin’ our skins an’ all, Zippy!”) and you can’t help but snort at Tech’s face when you emerge in a clean flight suit. He looks worried.

You’ve got welts all over your face. 

“I think it’s a cute look,” you jab playfully, leaning to inspect your reflection in the polished chrome door, “Don’t you, Tech?”

“Looks painful.”

Crosshairs laughs. 

The welts on your lekku are. You’d had to smother the startled yelps with your hand when the hot water made contact. You hope the boys hadn’t heard.

(Hunter certainly had, and he wasn’t even in the lower level of the ship. He was up top, ignoring the dull ache in his arm and pretending he didn’t need to rinse off. It had sparked a little worry in him, though, and he’d casually muscled his helmet on to do some digging on the holo-net about potential complications from injured lekku. The results were... not ideal.)

You massage the point on the back of your neck where your headwrap normally clasps together, keeping the animated little appendages under control and out of the way. You’ve forgone it now, and Crosshair watches as you sigh quietly as you rub the tension point. 

You look different without it. A bit softer.

“It doesn’t feel great, but,” you shrug, shoulders a bit more relaxed than before, “I’ll be fine. Definitely the worst acid bath I’ve had in a while.”

“You’ve been caught in those storms before?” Tech asks, surprised. He’s placing his helmet down, stripping his armor as he speaks. 

“I grew up in the South Tann Province,” you explain, “The jetstreams would carry polluted air through during the summer months, and sometimes the rain would be bad -- tarkona taka, my dad used to call it. But, that, back on Yanibar? That was worse than anything I’d ever experienced when I was a little girl.”

“Tarkona taka,” Tech sounds out, “What does it mean?”

“Brown weather -- or, storm, actually,” you grin, “Tak is brown, and tarkona is storm.”

“Yeah, well,” Wrecker supplies, muscling around through the barely stocked fridge in the far corners of the meager living quarters. Behind the microscopic kitchenette lay a hall of four bunks. Wrecker closes the door looking dejected, “I can’t wait to be back on Coruscant. No brown rain there.”

“On the lower levels there is!” you call out, spurring Wrecker’s shoulders to sag.

You move towards the ladder, planting a boot on the bottom rung when Crosshair’s calls out.

“Careful, Zip.”

“He still pissy?” you ask, loud enough that you know Hunter can hear, “Shame.”

The three members of the Bad Batch snort quietly as you move up the ladder anyway.

They like you.

And Hunter, still, doesn’t. 

[biavenger]

Desire;

Summary: The Avengers are undercover on a mission where Wanda and Bucky have to pretend to be dating. The reader, who is Wanda’s girlfriend, doesn’t like it, and makes sure to remind Wanda who she really belongs to when they get back to the tower.

A/N: I’ve never written smut before, but this is requested, and I never back down from a challenge! Feel free to send in another requests (smut included). Also, this is really long, and I have no regrets.

AUDIO RECOMMENDATION: Desire by Meg Meyer

Y/N laid with her back on the bed, staring up at the textured ceiling as she brooded over the mission the Avengers were assigned to complete that very night. Normally, she was very compliant with Fury’s will; if she had to travel to cold and distant lands for long periods of time, she would without complaint. She would fight big and bad guys twice her size without flinching, and completely demolish them. Y/N even missed her own birthday party to travel to Siberia to do recon on a potential Hydra base (spoiler: it wasn’t even there). But when Fury asked for Wanda, the love of her life, to dress up to pretend to be married to the Winter Soldier?

That was something that didn’t sit right with her.

Natasha had shoved her out of the bathroom to help Wanda get dolled up, deciding Y/N would only stress the poor Sokovian girl out even more. Especially since Y/N couldn’t help but project some of her anger out onto Wanda. Why didn’t Wanda protest more when she heard what the mission was? The thoughts kept running through her mind. Did she want to be with Bucky?

Deep down, Y/N knew that of course, it wasn’t Wanda’s fault, and of course Wanda would trade Bucky out for Y/N in a heartbeat, but it just wasn’t in her control. Still, imagining the soldier’s hands wrapped around her darling’s waist made her heart clench in a jealousy she had never felt before.

It didn’t help when Natasha opened the door to reveal Wanda, who donned a skintight black dress with a long slit up the side, the pale skin of her leg contrasting with the dark material. Her makeup was dark and smokey, which was far different from her more natural everyday look. Her hair stayed about the same, though, just a little more wavy with a few pins to keep it out of her face.

“You’re not going out like that,” Y/N’s jaw clenched with anger as she managed to choke out the words. Y/N didn’t really mean it; she knew she couldn’t control Wanda, at least, not outside the bedroom.

“Stop being such a neanderthal and tell your girlfriend how beautiful she looks,” Nat rolled her eyes, tired of Y/N’s jealous antics.

“Remind me again why you can’t go instead? I mean, you speak Russian, too,” Y/N asked.

“Because, after SHIELD fell, I was exposed. People in that circle know who I am now,” Nat explained patiently, although it was the millionth time Y/N had asked that question, “But no one knows much about Wanda. So she’s on deck.” 

Wanda smiled sheepishly, strolling across the room to stand in front of her girlfriend. Instinctively, Y/N’s hands reached up to rest on the girl’s hips and pull her closer. Holding Y/N’s face between her soft palms, Wanda leaned forward so their foreheads were touching. “Y/N- it’s going to be okay. I’m coming home to you, alright? But first, we have to get through this mission,” Wanda soothed, moving a hand up to stroke Y/N’s hair.

“Alright, lovebirds, we need to get moving. Quinjet’s up in five,” Nat said, trying to usher them out of the room. 

Although technically Bucky and Wanda were going to be the only two in the actual building, Y/N, Steve, and Nat were all going to be waiting outside in a recon van. Tony, Clint, and Bruce would be waiting at another, more remote, checkpoint with the Quinjet, also ready to provide backup if needed.

Y/N fidgeted with her tactical suit the entire ride, practically ignoring Wanda. 

Wanda, who was sitting between Y/N and Bucky. Wanda, who was giggling a little too hard at all of Bucky’s jokes. Wanda, who was having a conversation in Bucky in Russian, probably to spite Y/N, since she didn’t understand the language.

Y/N normally compartmentalized her feelings well. Until she had met Wanda, she had no real close ties to the team, except maybe to Nat. She did her work, went home, and trained until the next job came up.

Wanda sparked something in her, though, from the first moment they met. Even when they were helping Ultron, Y/N refused to lay a hand on Wanda (although her brother, Pietro, was a completely different story). Love had made Y/N weaker, in a way, because she had begun to care about not only Wanda, but the entire team, in a way deeper than she previously had. Usually, she loved it.

But in times like this, she hated the overwhelming emotion she now felt.

The Quinjet shook as it landed, also shaking Y/N out of her mental turmoil. Y/N was sure her irritation was blatant on her face; in fact, it made the rest of the team so uncomfortable that they weren’t even joking around and talking as much as they normally did. Wanda and Bucky had no problems laughing it up, however.

“You two should probably dance, and like, look married,” Steve said into the comm system, ignoring the daggers that Y/N shot at him with her eyes. They were gathered around a small surveillance screen in the van, keeping tabs on Wanda and Bucky.

For the most part, the two just kind of hung off in the corner, accepting drinks from waiters but not really drinking them. It did look odd that they weren’t dancing like the rest of the party was, Y/N admitted to herself mentally, although she would never give Steve the satisfaction of admitting so. 

A minute or two after Steve made the suggestion, Bucky’s hand wrapped around Wanda’s more slender, delicate one and pulled her out onto the dance floor. Wanda giggled as though she were surprised by the sudden gesture, the way she did when Y/N brought her breakfast in bed, or joined her in the shower.

Y/N couldn’t have hated it more.

“Y/N-wait, slow down. God, I can’t keep up with you,” Wanda said as she trailed slightly behind Y/N. As soon as the Quinjet landed back at the tower, Y/N dashed off, just trying to get back to her own room before the tears fell.

Some of the party’s guests had been suspicious of Wanda and Bucky’s relationship. They had acted more like two friends attending a party together rather than a happily married couple, so for the sake of appearances, Nat and Steve suggested that they kiss to avoid suspicion. Without any protest, they did.

Y/N wanted to be mad, but it was hard to be when Wanda looked that good in that goddamn dress. She couldn’t even blame Bucky for being so willing to kiss her, when Y/N herself had just wanted to lay Wanda down on the nearest flat surface, spread her legs, and fuck her like they were the last two people alive.

“I know, that’s the point,” Y/N said monotonously, shoving her way through Tony and Bruce, who wanted to know what all the commotion was about. 

Normally Y/N and Wanda slept in Wanda’s room, since it was the most comfortable and well decorated. Y/N, forever the minimalist, kept her room pretty bare-bones, which drove Wanda nuts. Y/N headed straight for her own room, slamming the door shut behind her as she finally reached it.

She knew it was only a matter of time before Wanda showed up, and she tried to get a grip on herself. Y/N had never been this shaken up before, about anything. But something about Wanda just did that to her.

So when Wanda busted in the door, slightly flushed from following her so quickly up the flight off stairs, Y/N pinned the smaller girl against the wall, leaning close enough to kiss, but not quite letting their lips touch.

Wanda squirmed as she tried to lean forward and press her lips to Y/N’s, but every time she did so, Y/N leaned back enough to avoid it.

“Do you know how bad you’ve been tonight, Wanda?” Y/N said, in a voice that Wanda hardly recognized. She did recognize it, though, from the last time her girlfriend had gotten this jealous, and immediately the ache between her legs started to grow at the thought of what was to come.

Knowing it was better to say nothing at all, Wanda simply looked down to avoid eye contact. 

Y/N continued on her monologue, “The entire night, you strutted around in this pretty little dress, shaking your ass for whoever was willing to look at it. You even let Bucky get a little hand-sy, didn’t you? I bet you fucking liked it, too.”

“N-no, baby, I swear there’s nothing going on between Buck and I!” Wanda interrupted, though she immediately regretted it as Y/N’s eyes continued to darken.

Reaching up and literally ripping the dress Wanda wore in half, Y/N discovered the girl wasn’t wearing a bra. “Was this for ‘Buck’, too? Even though there’s nothing going on between you two?” Y/N asked. She kicked the shredded remains of the dress to the side before sliding her hands down Wanda’s pink lace panties. “Fuck, baby girl, you’re so wet, too. Is this for ‘Buck’, too? Did dancing, kissing, touching Bucky make you so wet?”

Wanda couldn’t formulate a response as Y/N’s fingers brushed gently over her clit, just enough to send a shock of pleasure through her entire body. The girl was too busy trying to hold herself up against the wall and bask in Y/N’s touch to reply verbally, so she just frantically shook her head ‘no’.

Not liking the response she was getting, Y/N moved her hand from Wanda’s panties, guiding her from the wall to lay back on the bed. Climbing on top of her, she pressed kisses down the side of Wanda’s neck, nibbling here and there as she went further and further down. As she reached Wanda’s exposed tits, she took a nipple into her mouth, sucking and biting roughly. Y/N felt her own pussy get wetter as Wanda whined beneath her at the sensation. “Please, Y/N, more,” Wanda pleaded, especially once Y/N began to lightly skim her fingers over Wanda’s neglected nipple.

“I don’t think I can give you what you want, baby girl,” Y/N pretended to sigh sadly as she pulled back, pulling herself away from Wanda’s exposed body, “You were so bad tonight, Wanda. I think I’m going to have to punish you before I can even make you come.” 

Wanda whined at the lost sensation, sitting up quickly to begin work on taking off Y/N’s tactical suit. She felt naked at the difference in clothing, and she also wanted to feel Y/N’s skin against hers as they both experienced pure pleasure.

Y/N, catching on to what Wanda was trying to do, stepped out of her one-piece suit and let it pool at her feet on the floor. Sitting next to Wanda on the bed, she leaned forward, pressing kisses on the side of Wanda’s cheek up to her ear, whispering, “I think I’m going to have to spank you for your behavior tonight, is that okay?”

Wanda shuddered at the idea, a rush of wetness flooding between her legs. Y/N smirked to herself as she watched her girlfriend’s thighs clench together at the suggestion.

Wanda nodded, but Y/N prompted her further. “I need to hear you say yes, Wanda,” Y/N said seriously, never wanting to do anything to Wanda that she wasn’t 100% excited for.

“Yes.”

“Iron Man is the safe word, okay?” Y/N reminded Wanda before pulling her forward to situate her over her knees. 

Rubbing the soft skin of her ass, Y/N warmed up the skin there before winding up and delivering a hard smack to one of the cheeks, before following up with a spank on the other. 

“I can’t hear you counting, I’ll have to add more if you continue this behavior,” Y/N warned, and Wanda started to call out each number after the spank was delivered. After Wanda said ten, Y/N gently kissed the blushing red skin of Wanda’s now sore ass, admiring the job well-done. 

Helping her back into a laying down position, Y/N gave Wanda a chance to recover before moving on. She kissed the girl lovingly for a moment, which quickly deepened into something into less innocent. 

“I want to touch you,” Wanda squeaked out between kisses, making Y/N clench her thighs together. Pulling Y/N’s panties down, Wanda’s hand trailed down her chest, ghosting between her breasts and around her nipples before making its way to the part where Y/N needed her girlfriend post.

Wanda gasped as she felt how wet her girlfriend was, and began rubbing small circles into her clit. Quickly growing frustrated at the constraints of the panties, Wanda pulled them down. Kissing down Y/N’s body as she did so, Wanda paused as she hovered above Y/N’s dripping pussy. Trailing kisses on the inside of her thighs, Wanda teased Y/N for a moment, getting a little bit of revenge for the girl pulling away earlier.

“Don’t fucking tease me if you want to come tonight, Wanda,” Y/N commanded, and simultaneously reminded Wanda who was in charge tonight. Y/N almost lost it, though, at the vision of Wanda between her legs, learning forward to flatten her tongue against Y/N’s pussy and lick upwards towards her clit. Taking Y/N’s clit into her mouth, Wanda simultaneously pushed two finger’s inside the girl, making quick work of locating her g-spot and curling her fingers up to fuck it. Wanda knew she must have been doing alright at the sound of Y/N’s breathy moans and whimpers, and she knew she must have been doing great when Y/N’s hands instinctively reached up to wrap her fingers in Wanda’s hair.

“Fuck, baby, you’re so good,” Y/N praised, “You might make me come with your mouth.”

Hearing Y/N might be close to coming, Wanda changed up her pace, using her tongue to trace different shapes onto Y/N’s clit while adding another finger, fucking her more roughly than before. A mantra of “Fuck, Wanda, I’m going to come” spilled from Y/N’s mouth as Wanda felt her pussy walls clench around her fingers. After Y/N’s legs finally stopped shaking, Wanda pulled her mouth away, but kept her fingers inside the girl, slowly curling them towards her g-spot. 

“Wanda, I can’t take anymore,” Y/N said breathlessly, grabbing Wanda’s wrist and using it to pull the girl closer so they could kiss.

“Now its your turn,” Y/N promised, pushing Wanda down onto the bed and climbing on top. 

And oh, could Wanda feel the desire burning in between her thighs as Y/N’s soft fingertips made their way down her body.

[old-souldier]

#9: Link Pearl

Jordan slowly climbed down the rocky cliff face towards the beach. She shivered a bit at the cold. It was winter of the 1st year of the Seventh Astral Era. She was originally supposed to stay in command and deal with some of the staff officer shortfalls that happen around All Saints' Wake. Instead, there was a situation and, as the officer present with the most field experience, she was selected to lead the expedition.

"Colder'n Shiva's tits..." she muttered as she hopped down the last four fulms to the sandy ground at the bottom. Ahead of her was a small post staffed by two junior officers and a group of soldiers. The officers turned to Jordan and offered a salute

"Okay, Lieutenants. What's the sitrep?"

"Ma'am. Thank the Navigator you got here so quickly." The first lieutenant, a Keeper, said. "We weren't expecting ye for another six hours... with others"

Jordan waved a hand away. "I'm nimbler than I look, lad. I was able to board a merchant ship ta Aleport. Winds 'appened ta be favorable fer the trip up 'ere, Lieutenant. And I don't 'ave a Staff Sergeant or anythin'. Yer me eyes n' ears. Report."

"Aye. We've located the enemy holed up in a cave system not far up the coast. We suspect about two dozen Reavers and another dozen Drowned Sahagin. They're lickin; their wounds after we were able ta sink their main galleasses, but we suspect some form of counter attack."

The second officer, a Midlander woman bearing the insignia of a Second Lieutenant added, "We have a small company, split into two platoons. We have 'em outnumbered, but we don't know how deep or how structural the system is."

"Aye," Jordan nodded. "Sendin' soldiers in nilly willy'd just cause needless casualties on our end, 'specially if they 'ave Fishbacks with 'em." She turned to the First Lieutenant. "What's our recon?"

The Lieutenant offered Jordan a bright pink pearl. "This is the comms link. Corporal Momo is our linkshell operator."

Jordan nodded and placed the pearl in her ear.

"All Platoon leaders and Officers:" a bright high pitched voice stated in a lightly reverberating sound in Jordan's ear. "The Captain has the comm."

Jordan blinked. She just wanted intel, but apparently it was time to make a statement.

"Aye, er, Thank ye, Corporal. I've been appraised of the situation by the platoon leaders. I'd like a detachment of men ta run recon 'round the perimeter ta scope out any possible exits from the cave system, including any waterborne ones, given they 'ave the 'elp of 'em Fishbacks and-"

"Um, Ma'am?" the same high-pitched voice called out

"Aye Corporal?"

"I'm sorry ma'am, b-but new revisions to policy dictate that we officially change the use of fishback to "Drowned Sahagin." Command felt fishback was pejorative and since the emerging diplomatic relations with friendly Sahagin it was felt that-"

"Aye! Aye-" Jordan sighed. " Them... Drowned buggers, Sa'agin er not, may 'ave an escape route and I don't wanna risk 'em getting away." She cleared her throat. "Platoon Sergeants, what sort of artillery do we 'ave on 'and?"

"No field ordinance or cannons. Only our muskets, pistols, hand grenades, and arcanima, ma'am" One voice piped in.

The First Lieutenant spoke up in person and in the shell, the slight delay causing Jordan a bit of a headache.

"The recent weather made carrying field mortars impossible. They're too heavy to get through the mud above or the sand down on the beachhead."

"Aye" She said waving him off. "Okay, 'old yer positions fer now, save fer scoutin' groups. I want as much recon on the lay of the land as I can get afore we move in. Over n' out."

Jordan took off the pearl and walked over to the table. She looked at the map of the region. Not as accurate as she'd like, it still had the main terrain features as well as wooden representations of the company, split into two platoons and their relevant squads, and their current position. She thought about the cliffside cave the Reavers were held up in. Reaching out with a finger she began tracing a line through the cave, as though trying to cross it out in ink.

"Ma'am?" The First Lieutenant asked, scratching his head under his cap.

"When 'is Low Tide expected?"

"2000, Ma'am" a corporal answered quickly.

Jordan looked on the to receding sun towards the southwest. She thought for a moment before hurriedly placed the pearl back in her ear, and put a finger to her right ear to keep the delay from distracting her.

"Alright we 'ave 'about 3 hours to make our preparations. Recon squads should be looking for any passages that may reveal 'emselves with the sinkin' tide. The Lieutenants will be in charge of each platoon. Alpha Platoon will be led by Second Lieutenant Foss. Alpha Platoon will provide main fire at the entrance of the Cave and prevent any of the Reaver forces from making a dash out the front door."

She pointed to Keeper Lieutenant, "Delta Platoon will be run by Lieutenant Epocan. Ye'll be split into yer component squads squads. Once recon establishes potential places that a Drowned bastard could swim er crawl out of, each squad'll will move in ta plug up the 'oles."

The two officers nodded and began to look at the map. Jordan continued.

"Corporals'll lead yer squads and be the contact points fer the Sergeants who'll keep track of the squads' movement and report back ta rear echelon. Where possible, I'd like ta 'ave each squad in Delta 'ave one Musketeer er Arcanist fer coverin' fire and support. With luck, we'll get them bastards tonight." Jordan heard static on the channel but nothing else. She asked hesitantly, "Whaddaya say ta that?"

"'Til Sea Swallows All!" She heard the buzzy echo of multiple voices.

"Aye, Good. Ye 'ave yer work. I want this channel as clear as possible once we reach 1900. Lieutenants, ye 'ave the run of things."

Jordan took off the pearl and wiped her brow. She hated the static of the pearl during these missions and how they caused her head to buzz.

Jordan watched as the younger officers and staff got to work. She looked around, wistfully thinking how nice a kettle and a cuppa would be, but really hoping her gambit would pay off.

[pomrania]

Drawgust 14: “amount”

((Part of the Little by Little ‘verse, and using these prompts. This is the mission Sabine and Zeb went on. By the way, I am CAUGHT UP now! Also, this is the first one long enough to need to be under a cut.))

"The place we're going, does it have a name?" Sabine idly asked.

  Zeb glanced over the information they were given. "There's none listed, just that it's Riechend's second moon."

  She stretched out. "Whatever that place is like, I hope we find something interesting. I heard from another team, when they were on one of these recon missions, that the planet they checked out was just cold and damp the whole time, and whatever had been there, clearly wasn't any more. It ended up being a waste of everyone's time."

  He shrugged. "As far as I'm concerned, if it gets us off the base for a bit, it wasn't a waste of time.

*

Zeb peered over Sabine's shoulder. "Are the scanners picking anything up?"

  She flipped a switch. "Breathable atmosphere, lots of plants, but no sign of any sentient life. At least not any more, there's a few things that look like they might be abandoned buildings. Nothing from within the last century, that's for sure."

  "What about energy signatures?"

  She looked over the results, and frowned. "I'm not sure, they're kind of borderline. It might be something, or it might just be normal. Wait, now it's spiking --"

  The ship's comm unit flickered into life, and began broadcasting a series of beeps. It sounded like Binary, but none of the words were recognizable.

  He turned to her. "There's your answer."

  She grinned back at him. "Let's check it out."

*

"Where do I go next to get to the signal's source?" Sabine yelled.

  "West!"

  "That would be great," she shouted back, darting between trees, "if only I know which way that was!"

  "I thought you said you had a good sense of direction!"

  "I do!" She grabbed a branch and swung up, narrowly avoiding a set of snapping jaws. "But with the amount of detours I've been forced to take, you'll forgive me for getting a little turned around!"

*

Sabine crossed her arms. "You're sure that this is where the signal came from," she flatly said. "There's nothing here."

  "Maybe it's just hidden," Zeb suggested, but he didn't sound too convinced either.

  She sighed, and started poking around. "Hello? Anyone here? What am I doing, there's no one else here...."

  "Incorrect."

  They both turned, hands going to their weapons. There was nobody at ground level, but the trees could easily hide someone. They looked up.

  Now that they were searching, there was a metallic glimmer among the branches. "Greetings," the unfamiliar voice continued. It sounded like a droid of some kind, with a weird accent. "Might either of you assist me in extracting myself from this position?"

*

Zeb landed easily, the droid's added weight not throwing off his balance. It climbed off of his back, now that they were safely on the ground.

  "How did you even manage to get wedged into something up there," he grumbled.

  The lights on the droid's optics flickered. "That information was extraneous to my research, so I deleted it. It must have been a very unusual set of circumstances, otherwise my self-preservation routines would have preserved the knowledge so I could avoid the situation in the future."

  Sabine facepalmed.

  It rotated to take in both of them. "On behalf of the Geological Academy of the Republic, I offer my gratitude. I would have been unable to take regular measurements if I had remained like that. The scientific community will appreciate your actions."

  She frowned. "Wait, the Academy of the Republic?"

  "That is correct." The droid dipped its head. "My primary mission is to collect geological data, specifically on this orbiting body, to expand the body of knowledge available to scientists of the Republic."

  She opened her mouth, then shook her head. "How long have you been here," she said, mostly to herself. "I think they stopped supporting research expeditions as the Clone Wars dragged on, and the Republic hasn't existed for years. I'm sorry, but whatever organization you used to work for, it probably isn't around any more, and there's a good chance most of the people are dead. The Empire wasn't kind to academies that weren't focused on putting out weapons or soldiers."

  Its optics dimmed momentarily. "That is immaterial. From the beginning, I knew that I would not complete this study within the lifetime of my makers. That is why they sent me here. I do not age. I can make observations for centuries, without suffering the discontinuity that comes from changing personnel."

  Zeb and Sabine looked at each other. "We can take you somewhere else if you want," he offered. "There has to be some place left that would appreciate a... geology studies droid, I guess."

  "The offer is appreciated, but my place is here. I shall continue to fulfill my purpose."

  "Even if nobody is coming for you?"

  "I shall continue to gather data. Eventually, somebody will arrive who can make use of it. If I am non-functional by that time, I will have preserved the information so it could still be accessed by another."

*

"That was just kind of sad," Sabine said.

  Zeb shrugged. "Nothing else we can do," he said. "The droid chose to stay here."

  "I know, but it still feels... like someone's wrong."

  "Of course something's wrong. It's the Empire."

  "I guess you're right about that." She forced a smile. "Well, at least now we know why this place was on Namah Neimi's list! He must have run into that droid too."

  "Should we go back and ask?"

  They thought for a moment, then both shook their heads at the same time.

  "No way it would have kept that memory," she said.

  "That would definitely be 'extraneous to research'," he agreed.

  "At least it's simple now. Go back to the ship, write up a report, head back to base. Shouldn't be any problems."

*

"Where do these things keep coming from?!" Sabine shrieked as she kicked another creature in the snout, before bringing her blaster around.

  "Less talking, more shooting!" Zeb yelled back. "Careful, wolfigator coming up on your left!"

  She spun to deal with it. "That's a horrible name!" Her path was clear now, and she dashed to the next small bit of safety represented by the rock. "Let's call them alligator-wolves instead."

  "We'll discuss this later!"

*

"We survived."

  "That we did."

  "It's going to be a bit of an interesting story to tell."

  "Yeah. Not looking forward to writing it all up though."

  "Me neither."

  They both leaned back in their seats, enjoying the momentary respite. They would still have to make reports, but not at the moment. For now, they could relax in the knowledge that they were safe in the ship, and no longer being chased by nameless gator-wolf creatures.

[rcckiedrill]

" What can be said for the layman... the world struggles to understand genius when they see it. Thus, it is the job of the gifted to show their lessers how the world truly works. "

Row is not going to bring up his own plans for world domination via mind control of the masses... or... his plan during the war to use Infinite against him.

[rcckiedrill]

" ...Sonic lookalike contest... "

[rcckiedrill]

whrrlwind began following rcckiedrill!

" ...Wonder if Whirl still thinks I'm a government spy... "

[rcckiedrill]

lmao. burrow and infinite being cute and gay and kissing followed IMMEDIATELY on my dash by starline getting drunkenly hit on.

this is a wonderful night i think xD

[rcckiedrill]

Your Dating Service

Date with: Burrow the Falcon. Date Fee: $1342.57 Customer Comments: "Burrow the Falcon didn't even show up!!! (Female in late 30s)"

" I think anyone would have done the same if they had to experience the absolute fucking nightmare that was the DM conversation prior to this... "

[rcckiedrill]

" Wh-- S-Sweet Birdie...?! "

Fucking DAMN that jackal and his cocky flirting... it was just morbid curiousity driving him to fill that board out, nothing else! That fluttering in his chest was just worry for another living being, after all...

...wasn't it...?

[rcckiedrill]

" ...I wonder if Fr0stByte has a self-destruct feature... "

Considering its a cyborg and not a full-on automaton, it would certainly be fucked up, but the falcon didn't know if he'd put it past Row to add something like that to them...