#with her Mohawk Ofc

[idkwhattoputherefr]

Can we normalise yapping abt our interests ? Cuz I hate it when I talk abt starlight express for the millionth time that day and my friends all sigh , yall r haters fr 💔💔

[quitefawnish]

the prize of prey

knight!au, simon riley x reader, kyle garrick x reader, johnny mactavish x reader, brief soap x gaz, mentioned john price x reader

cw: noncon/dubcon, abuse of power

word count: 3.6k

synopsis: this is inspired by one of my classes actually, where we discussed how knights in the middle ages only had to court noble women, whereas any peasant woman was open to their desires, and they were in fact encouraged to do so. while this is disgusting as a concept, i am also disgusting, so ofc i wrote this..

Everyone in the kingdom knew to stay out of the way of the knights. It was a common sight to see a vendor being heckled by a group of knights while many people walked by without sparing a glance. So you were well aware of how fucked you were when a group of them approached you at the market.

They were in their casual wear but the scabbards at their hips spoke to their knight status. The first one that started the conversation had tanned skin and a crooked grin that caused the edges of his stark blue eyes to crinkle.

His brown hair was styled in a mohawk, with the hair on the sides of his head crudely shaven away, and by the nicks that were spread across his scalp, you guessed he did it himself.

“Well, hello there, bonnie,” he practically whispered in your ear.

His hands gripped your waist as he pulled himself to stand closer to you with his chest against your back.

You stiffened, turning your head slightly backwards to peer at him. You had seen the group of them wandering the market earlier and you had hoped that’s the last you would see of them. You were not so lucky.

The second one, to your relief, pulled Mohawk off of you.

“Don’t crowd her, ye git” He gave you a grin, acting as if his friend hadn’t just groped you a second ago, but you had to admit, he was so pretty, it almost worked.

He had brown skin and tight curls that were close-cropped to his head. His facial hair was neatly trimmed, and his brown eyes sparkled with a mirth you didn’t share.

“I’m Gaz” he said, then he pointed to Mohawk, “he’s Soap.”

“But ye can call me Johnny, if ye like,” Soap interrupted, wiggling his eyebrows at you.

Gaz just shot him a glare and then pointed to the last man who had just been observing this whole interaction, “and this is Ghost.”

Ghost was a hulking creature of man, and if he wasn’t intimidating enough, he had on a skull-painted balaclava. Through the gap in the fabric you could see just his pale skin and soulless dark brown eyes that were boring into your soul.

You introduced yourself as they all stared at you expectantly.

“‘s a pretty name fer a pretty lass” Soap practically cooed at you.

This made you tuck further in yourself, wishing you could just disappear on the spot, “I.. don’t think this is appropriate.”

Gaz cocked his head slightly, “And why is that?”

You swallowed thickly, “B-because I don’t think my husband would approve.”

It was a complete gamble, maybe these knights would leave you alone if they thought you had a man to protect you. Problem is, you were decidedly not married, and all you could do was hope they wouldn’t see through your bluff.

“Husband?” Soap made a show of looking around, “if ye’re married, then where is he?”

“A man shouldn’t leave his woman to fend for herself in such a dangerous place, especially not one as beautiful as you, someone might try to take advantage,” Gaz said in a worried tone, but it was ruined by the slight grin on his face.

“He.. he went home already, I told him I needed to get one last thing, and I would be right home,” your lie was falling apart as soon as it left your mouth.

“He should have waited, no sense in making your woman walk home alone,” Soap grumbled.

By now, they had almost backed you into a corner, both literally and figuratively, as they advanced forward, forcing you to inch back towards the fruit stand behind you.

“He-he knows the people in the community, they would never do anything to me,” you managed to stammer out.

“If this husband o’ yours is real, where’s your ring?” You were startled as Ghost finally spoke up, his voice deep and rumbling as he glared at you with accusing eyes.

You put your right hand up and looked at it, faking bewilderment, “Oh! I must have left it at home this morning.”

“Ah, right, sorry for pestering you, then,” Gaz said, bowing slightly for emphasis, the other two following suit.

You gave them a small, nervous curtsy in response and smiled awkwardly at the three of them, “It’s quite alright. If you’ll excuse me, I think I should head home now.”

You started to walk away when Soap put out an arm to stop you, “Aye, but it wouldnae be right of us to let a woman walk home by herself.”

Your heart plummeted to your feet and your eyes involuntarily widened with horror.

“I should be okay walking by myself, thank you for the offer, sirs,” you said as you attempted to shoulder past Soap.

He just moved closer to you, “It wouldnae be right,” he said in a darker tone, implying this wasn’t up for debate.

You looked between Gaz and Ghost, who had blocked your other exits, and it didn’t seem like they were willing to budge on this either. You swallowed nervously, “R-right, let’s go, then.”

When you made it to your house, you had half-hoped for them to bid you a good night and go on their way.

They, of course, insisted on meeting your so-called husband and giving him a good talk about respecting his wife. You were fairly certain that at this point it was like a game for them.

It was obvious from the start that they never believed you and they knew you knew that, but that didn’t stop them from continuing this ruse, they were having too much fun.

You opened the door to an empty and dark house, it being abundantly clear that no one had been in the place since you left that morning.

“O-oh, I don’t know where he went, he must have gone looking for me since I took so long,” you lied, but winced at your wavering tone.

“Lass, we would have run into him on the way,” Soap said, making you turn around to face the three of them.

“He knows some different paths, maybe he took one of those,” you continued lying, knowing that it was never going to convince them, but you needed to keep talking or you were going to cry.

Noticing the devastated look on your face, Gaz walked forward and took your face in his hands, “It’s alright, luv, we’re not going to hurt you.”

You were shaking so bad that your teeth were practically rattling out of your skull, “You’re not? You’re.. going to leave me alone?”

Soap just shook his head, tutting at you, “We didnae say that, just that we aren’t gonna hurt ye, in fact, you’ll probably like it.”

The grin on his face made your stomach churn, and you stepped back from Gaz’s hands, backing up until you hit your bed frame. It startled you as you stumbled back into the wood, and you looked back to see what you had run into before trying to steady yourself.

When you turned back around, Gaz and Soap were practically face-to-face with you, Ghost choosing to settle in a dark corner of the room, settling into a chair as it let out a big creak of stress under his weight.

You turned your gaze back to the two knights in front of you who both have matching looks in their eyes, a mix of lust and excitement, as they eye you up and down.

“P-please don’t” you managed to stutter out.

Soap just pressed a finger to your lips, “Shhh, you’re okay. We’re going to take good care of you.”

You tried to lean out of the way as Gaz’s lips came towards yours, squeezing your eyes shut as if you could pretend all of this wasn’t happening.

Rough hands gripped your head, pulling your face towards Gaz, who captured your lips in his. As your eyes flew open, you saw that it was both Gaz and Soap’s hands that were holding you steady. Gaz’s other hand settled on your waist, gripping at the soft flesh underneath the fabric of your dress.

He leaned into the kiss, being somewhat gentle, as if he didn���t want to scare you off just so soon. You gasped softly into his lips as you felt Soap’s tongue on your neck, licking a stripe from your neck up to your face, ending it with a wet kiss to the apple of your check.

Gaz pulled away, staring blatantly down at your body before he began to undo the strings at the back of your bodice.

You tried to pull away, muttering out a soft “no” in protest, but Gaz worked efficiently enough that he was able to pull the piece over your head before you could do much else. Soap grinned down at your body, the top half of your thin chemise having been revealed.

Your hardened nipples poked through the sheer clothing, your body having betrayed you in response to Gaz’s kiss. Soap seemed transfixed as he palmed at your breast through the material, cupping both hands underneath your nipples.

“So bonnie, and just for us to see, aye?” he asked.

You couldn’t even move your mouth to answer and you just remained rooted to the spot no matter how much you wished you could move, fight them off, anything.

Soap didn’t seem to mind your lack of response, carrying on fondling your tits. While Soap was transfixed, Gaz slipped off your skirts, leaving you now with one practically translucent layer, which he was now starting to pull off as well.

That was when you got the courage to move, attempting to cover your body while also trying to keep your chemise on. Instead of grabbing your arms like you thought they would, Soap simply pushed you backwards so you landed with an ‘oof’ on your bed.

You tried to scramble away, slipping over your sheets in your desperation but Soap yanked you back towards them, “Behave.”

You swallowed nervously and stopped trying to struggle away, actually finding yourself nodding to his command.

He grinned, “Good girl.”

His words sent shivers down your body, ending with a fluttering in your cunt.

“Told you we were gonna make you feel good, yeah?” Gaz said, positioning himself in the space between your legs, gripping your thighs open with an ease that betrayed just how strong he was compared to you.

“I don’t want this,” you surprised yourself when you said this, having been frozen in fear just moments before.

Soap, who was now positioned in the space above your head, smiled down at you, brushing your hair back against your scalp, “Dinnae say that just yet, think ye’ll like this next part.”

Knowing that your protests would fall on deaf, uncaring ears, you shut your mouth and looked back down at Gaz who had now pulled the bottom part of your chemise up to reveal your pussy to the night air. Once again, you tried desperately to have some remaining decency and pulled your dress back down, only for Soap to grab your hands and pull them back to your chest.

He held them in an X formation with one hand gripping around both of your wrists, “Och, dinnae be naughty, lass. Wouldnae want for Ghost to have to punish ye.”

Your eyes flicked over to the man who was sitting in the corner who was staring over at the three of you, and you noticed him lazily palming at a bulge in his pants. You swallowed nervously and shook your head, looking back at Soap, “I’ll be good, I promise.”

He seemed satisfied and nodded to Gaz, who had flipped the bottom half of your chemise up once again. He pressed gentle kisses to your inner thighs, trailing up until he reached your entrance. It was horrible because even though you wanted them to stop, you needed for Gaz to hurry up and put his mouth on your aching bud.

As if sensing your thoughts, he put his lips to your clit and sucked. You couldn’t stop the whimper that slipped from your lips as he did this, your face flushing at the realization of the obscene noise that you had made.

It only egged Gaz on more as he began to practically make out with your pussy, wet smacking sounds echoing around the room.

Soap, meanwhile, had shifted your hands to pin them above your head, therefore giving him unobstructed access to your tits. He latched his mouth to your right nipple, sucking through the fabric.

He used his free hand to grope at your other breast, practically kneading it like a cat. All you could do was whimper softly, your arms and legs both being restrained. It wasn’t long before you could feel a pressure building between your legs, feeling the pleasure crescendo until it hit its peak and your body started shaking uncontrollably.

You could dimly hear Soap praising you with his mouth still on your nipple with your ears ringing slightly.

As the wave overtook you, you couldn’t help but roll your eyes back into your head. Gaz unsucked with a loud popping noise, and as your sight returned to normal, you saw him grinning triumphantly between your legs.

Soap had already unlatched from your tit, the sheer fabric that covered it being almost translucent from the saliva. Now that you had finally relaxed, or rather, was too tired to move or try to struggle, Soap let go of your arms. You left them where they were hanging above your head as you tried to catch your breath.

At that moment, Ghost stood up from the chair, startling you, as you had almost forgotten he was there.

“My turn,” he said gruffly, which made both Gaz and Soap complain loudly.

“Och, but I’m achin’ LT,” Soap complained, almost whining as he gestured to his dick which was straining against his pants.

“‘ave Kyle take care o’ you” he said matter-of-factly.

Although you weren’t sure of their ranks within the knight’s guard, it was clear that these two readily deferred to him as Soap reluctantly slipped off the bed.

Ghost walked towards you, looking you up and down with almost calculating eyes. All you could do was whimper softly as he approached you, half paralyzed from fear.

His eyes softened slightly as he looked down at you, and although you flinched as he outstretched a hand, he simply stroked your cheek with a softness you didn’t know he was capable of.

“Poor thing, probably scared out o’ your mind.”

You nodded meekly, hoping maybe he would take mercy on you and leave you alone.

“Don’t worry, I’ll make you feel good, yeah?”

He then undressed his lower half which was littered in scars and which also freed his erect cock, one that looked like it could split you in half, precum glistening at the tip.

Your eyes widened at the sight of it, “I.. I don’t think it’s going to fit.”

He shook his head, “It’s gonna fit, don’t worry, ‘sides, my boys warmed you up for me, didn’t they?”

You looked over at Gaz and Soap, the former helping Soap out by stroking along his cock with spit-slicked hands, making Soap moan out words in a language you didn’t understand. You stopped looking when Ghost’s hands found your jaw and turned your face back to him.

“Asked you a question, love.”

You nodded, but your lower lip wobbled slightly.

That just seemed to egg him on more, and his eyes crinkled through the gap in his mask. He repositioned you so you were facedown on the bed, legs dangling off the side so your ass was level with his pelvis.

He pulled up your chemise, and once again, your pussy was exposed to the night air. He sucked in a breath at the sight of it, dragging one finger up through the folds and dipping it into your hole. You inhaled sharply at the intrusion, clenching slightly on his finger in shock.

He just laughed, “Careful you don’t squeeze like that while I’m inside, yeah? ‘fraid I’d never pull out.” You took the message and forced yourself to relax, knowing that it was happening either way and it was best just to make things easier on yourself.

You tried not to jump again when he dragged his tip down your pussy, gathering the come that had collected in between your folds. Then he pressed into your hole, it traitorously sucking him in with ease.

He was able to get it in a good amount of inches before your insides started to ache. Sure, maybe you’d had a couple of fingers in there before but nothing like this, certainly not this length or girth.

You whimpered softly as he pressed in further and he soothingly pet your hair as he paused for a moment.

“You’re okay, I know, I know” he said, soothingly, “Just a bit more, okay?” You nodded weakly, knowing that it wasn’t an option to back out now.

“Good girl” he murmured softly as he pressed inch by inch into you.

You whined pitifully as his pelvis pressed against your ass, his cock now fully inside you.

It hurt, but what was worse to you was that this hurt felt.. good. You hardly had a second to take all of him before he slowly pulled out again, and stupidly, you began to hope he was done.

Those dreams were dashed the second he slammed back into you, making you cry out in surprise. He continued this, rocking back and forth into you, his cock dragging in and out of your hole as you gripped the sheets beneath you for stability.

Then, he lowered himself on top of you, bending over at his hips to press himself against your back. All you could hear were his grunts and the sound of his balls slapping against your pussy as he pounded into you.

Even though tears were building up in your eyes, you could also feel pleasure building between your legs at the continuous thrusting. Your body tensed up as you felt another wave overtake you, the sensations making your legs shake uncontrollably underneath Ghost’s.

Your breathy moans earned an even faster pace, causing a slight staccato in your breathing.

Now that your orgasm had ended, the pleasure bordered on painful and with the increased thrusts, you whimpered softly, “It hurts.”

He pressed a kiss to the back of your head and through his panting he said, “I know, I know, just a little longer. ‘m almost there.”

You felt another wave building, this time it felt too intense, too painful, but you couldn’t stop it from overtaking you just as Ghost slowed above you, grunting in your ear as he finished inside you. You couldn’t breathe for a terrifying moment, your lungs drawing in no air as your vision darkened. The ringing in your ears grew louder as you lost sensation, and eventually, lost consciousness.

When you woke up what you assumed to be a few seconds later, Ghost had pulled out of you and you were laying on your back on the bed. You could feel his and your come dripping out of your pussy which was still fluttering around nothing.

He had pulled his pants up and redone his belt, now fully dressed again.

He looked over at you, “Lost you there for a second, that good, am I?”

You didn’t really know what to say in response, sure, he was good, but he also forced his way into your home and your body. You weren’t about to praise the man that violated you. Luckily, he didn’t seem to mind your lack of response, looking over to Soap and Gaz who had both finished, seeming both literally and figuratively.

Soap gave you a lopsided grin, “Put on quite a show, lass. Told ye we’d take care of ye.”

“Will you leave me be, now?” you asked bluntly. Now that they had all had their fair share, all you wanted was for them to leave so you could tend to yourself and lick your wounds.

Gaz raised an eyebrow, “Rid of you? Who said anything about that?”

Your heart sank, “I.. I just assumed that once you got what you wanted, you’d leave.”

Ghost shook his head as if you had said something egregiously stupid, “Don’t you get it? You are what we wanted, and we’re not letting you go that easily. From the moment we laid eyes on you, we had to have you.”

You looked between the three of them, this hadn’t been a spur of the moment thing, they had planned this. You knew all along that they knew you weren’t married, but you didn’t think they had planned this, all for them to take you like some unruly spoil of war at the end.

“You can’t do this, someone will wonder where I am,” you mustered the energy to sit up in bed, glaring at the three of them.

“Really? From the looks of it, you live alone, no one knows who you are, and we’re knights. It’s our duty to take things like you home, protect you, take care of you” Gaz said, taking on a more serious tone.

“Y-you can’t do this” you helplessly repeated.

“Oh, lass, we can, and we will. Dinnae worry your pretty little head about it. King John already said he would be very interested in meeting you, doubt he would be too happy if you refused,” Soap’s grin seemed almost malicious now in this lighting.

“It’s time to go home,” Ghost said, scooping you up from the bed.

You were unable to do anything but cry weakly into his shoulder as they brought you to their horses, knowing this would be the rest of your life and there was nothing you could do about it.

a/n: ah ok! first fic on this acct and actually, my first fic writing smut 🫣 so lmk what you guys think, maybe i can write a part two if you’re interested??

sword divider by @/sister-lucifer

[uglygirltrying]

May i request Soap and Reader dry humping eachother when LT ghost walks in??🥺🥺

[yes i saw the post and ITS A NEED, only if u wanna ofc <3]

Yes ofc! :))

I'll make an assumption and just continue from that thought :P umm i didn't want to give the reader a callsign im sorry if that makes this bad😭🙏

ghost didn't sleep well most nights. most nights were made of pacing around, or zoning out by the common room's television. and that was his plan that night as well.

he thought that it would be peaceful like any other night, and maybe even more so, if his two sergeants had got worn out from their ride.

but as he made his way down the hallway from his room, and got closer to the common room, strange noises hit his ear.

now, with hesitance, but also curiosity, ghost slowly walked to the end of the hallway.

and he certainly wasn't expecting the scene in the common room.

his two sergeants. his two soldiers, rutting against each other, on the common room's couch. the lieutenant had to hold back a chuckle at the sight, the pair were going at it like desperate animals.

unsurprisingly, soap was making noise like a whiny puppy. not like his pretty sergeant wasn't whimpering at the feeling as well. the dirty mutt soap, was ruining his pretty sergeant. making her pussy wet, without enough effort to make her cum.

ghost couldn't quite see, but he could bet there was soaking wet spots on their uniforms.

soap was moving carelessly, thinking with his cock, and only for his cock. his dog brain couldn't process what a pretty thing he was rutting against. what a pretty cunt, that deserved to have her fill as well.

the scotsman was only getting louder, and closer to his release. ghost felt his cock throb in his sweatpants. god, was he hard. but he couldn't just watch from the side, as his pretty soldier was getting neglected.

soap should be thankful. he should be on his knees, begging to get a taste of their pretty girls pussy.

but no. the mutt didn't have any manners. he needed to be put in his place.

neither of the dummies noticed when he walked closer, too distracted for their own good.

ghost's big, calloused hand quickly reached out, and grabbed onto the scotsman's sweaty mohawk, yanking his head up to look at him. soap immediately stilled, a confused and spooked.

"l-lt... hey..." soap nervously chuckled, still panting.

ghost glared down at soap, his cold eyes focused on his. ghost kept a tight grip on his hair, and looked down at his pretty sergeant, laying beneath soap. she looked just as frightened as soap, scared of being in trouble.

"selfish, ain't he?" it was more of a statement, than a question. soap pouted at his lieutenants words.

ghost smirked, as his pretty soldier shyly nodded her head. his free hand reached down, and brushed strands of her hair off her forehead.

ghost just looked down at her for a moment, before turning back to soap. he yanked on soap's hair again.

"get off of her, sergeant." ghost murmured deeply.

soap scrambled to back away from in between her legs. there was a obvious bulge on his cargo pants, with a wet spot forming on top.

ghost meanly chuckled at his submission. the lieutenant turned his head down again, looking down at his pretty sergeant. his hand traveled down, cupping her crotch. it was warm, a little moist too. most of it probably from soap.

his pretty soldier whimpered at the touch, shyly curling up.

"bet yer wearing something pretty underneath..." ghost murmured into her ear, his hot breath hitting her skin.

ghost turned to glare at soap. "and he didn't even think to take a look..." he continued.

soap was panting at the other end of the coach, his dick hard in his pants, as he tried not to touch himself. his lieutenant had caught them. he had caught his sergeants, rutting against each other like animals in heat.

and he didn't yell. he didnt file for transfers. he didn't punish them... well, this probably was soaps punishments, to watch from the side, while their lieutenant touched the precious girl's pussy.

ghost opened his pretty sergeant's pants, and pulled them down her thighs. underneath, she was wearing pretty, white panties. ghost chuckled at the sight. a wet patch on the panties, making them transparent, and revealing her sweet pussy. nice puffy lips, and a little bush above her hard nub.

ghost looked up at soap again. "take off 'er trousers, sergeant." he commanded him.

soap scrambled to pull down the other sergeants pants, as his commanding officer stared down at him. once her pants were thrown to the side, soap was face to face with her white panties. before he even knew it, ghost's hand had pushed his head down, his face down against her clothed pussy.

their pretty sergeant squealed at the sudden feeling of soap's nose pressing on her clit, with his hot breath hit her fluttering hole.

"lick it, mutt." ghost's commanded in his deep voice.

the scotsman's tongue immediately got to work, licking up and down the panty covered pussy, the wet patch only getting bigger with soap's saliva. he didn't care if he couldn't breathe properly, he'd gladly die just there.

ghost had to hold down their whimpering soldier, as she squirmed around. her chest moved with her heavy breathes, her legs twitching at the feeling of a hot tongue on her pussy.

"l-lieutenant..." she whimpered. ghost reached down and brushed her cheek with his thumb.

"good girl. ya wanna cum?" ghost asked, an amused smirk behind his mask. she nodded franticly and desperately, making ghost chuckle. soap must've been listening, his tongue moving faster on her. her pretty, white panties have long gone transparent from his dirty spit.

the lieutenants dark eyes averted for just a moment, only to see his sergeant humping the coach underneath him. what a dog.

both of them were near again. only this time, ghost was here. somebody to make sure, that both of them were taken care of. his own dick was hard as fuck too. he almost couldn't wait to go back to his room, and rub the hell out his cock.

but in this moment, he needed to only focus on them. they were too stupid for their own good. they were lucky it was him who caught them. this could've gone so much worse. they were lucky he was even letting them cum.

ghost snapped out of his thoughts, as his sergeants only got louder. they needed to be over with this quickly, it was only the matter of time, until somebody else walked into the common room.

ghost pushed soap's head down again, his big nose hitting her hard clit. that did it for her, making her cum. arching her back, whimpering, and shaking. soap wasn't far behind. his hips stilled, as he came in his pants. soap lifted his head, his face moist with the mix of her juices and his saliva. their pretty sergeant laid there, twitching and breathing heavily, almost limp.

soap sat up, the front of his cargos, soaked with his cum. ghost chuckled at the sight.

"how's the adrenaline rush now?"

idk i dont have the smut talent that these kind of writings need😭

[hatsbuckets]

Sunday Softies: Cuddle Edition!

My take on how cod mw (reboot) blorbos cuddle

*sighs, because ofc this didn't post when it was scheduled to.* also sorry not sorry but this one has all my fav little ships in it. I may do other characters next week. or a diff mix idk whatever I want oop

Price: Warm and solid, the kind of presence that makes the world feel smaller, quieter. He doesn’t pull someone in so much as he opens up—makes space, shifts just enough to let them settle against him. There’s no hesitation in the way his arm comes around a waist, the way his fingers smooth over a shoulder, slow and steady. He holds like a man who has carried weight before and never minded doing it again. His breathing deepens when he sleeps, chest rising and falling in a way that almost lulls, a slow rhythm that reassures. And in the morning, even before his eyes open, his hand lingers—fingertips brushing against skin, against fabric, as if to make sure no one has gone anywhere.

Gaz: Soft and instinctive, like he was made to be close. He doesn’t just hold—he pulls, tucks someone into his chest, arms wrapped easy and loose but always there. He’s the type to shift in sleep, to press closer without realizing, to run warm enough that the blankets are always kicked halfway off the bed. His hands move, even in the quiet, fingers brushing against the back of a neck, stroking slow lines over a forearm, just feeling. He sleeps deep, steady, and when he wakes, there’s always a slow, lazy hum, a sigh that sounds like contentment.

Ghost: A still sleeper, but when he holds, he holds tight. Not crushing, not overwhelming, just firm—a presence that doesn’t waver, that doesn’t let go. He doesn’t tangle himself up in anyone, doesn’t smother, but there’s a way his arm locks around a waist, a way his fingers stay even when he’s drifting. If it’s a rare, quiet night, he sleeps on his back, someone tucked against his side, an absentminded hand resting against the small of their back. Even in sleep, there’s purpose in the way he holds on, a silent kind of knowing. And if he wakes up before them, he doesn’t move—not yet. Just stays there, fingers tracing slow, idle shapes against skin. A certain mohawked sergeant is the exception. Soap gets everything. A full-body, limbs-entwined kind of hold, strong and certain, like he needs to know he’s there. And when Soap laughs and tries to wiggle free, Ghost only tightens his grip, murmurs a sleep-heavy “Stay, Johnny” like it’s the easiest thing in the world.

Soap: A nester. Takes up space, spreads out, clings like it’s second nature. He’s all tangled limbs and absentminded shifts, burying his face into a shoulder, pressing against warmth like he’s charging up for the next day. If he starts as the big spoon, he always wakes up as the little one, pulled into whoever he’s with, grip slack but still there. His hands wander in sleep—not in any purposeful way, just in that mindless, familiar way, fingers splayed across ribs, an arm thrown over a stomach. He’s a soft weight, a solid, easy warmth, and once he’s got his spot, he’s not moving. Ghost is the only one who lets him get away with it. Let’s him burrow against his chest, let’s him tangle their legs together, let’s him press his freezing cold feet against his calves and only sighs about it. And in the morning, when Soap’s trying to sneak away? Ghost hooks an arm around his waist and pulls him back.

Farah: Light at first, distant in a way that’s habit, but there’s a slow softening when she lets herself relax. She doesn’t wrap herself around anyone, doesn’t cling, but she leans in—rests her forehead against a shoulder, tucks her fingers lightly beneath a sleeve, something gentle. When she sleeps, her grip is light, but her presence doesn’t fade. She’s there, quiet and steady, the kind of warmth that lingers even when morning comes. And when it’s Alex? Her fingers trace over his arm, absent and slow, mapping old scars with a touch so careful it’s almost reverent. He doesn’t say anything—just lets her. Just presses closer and smiles against her temple, quiet and warm and hers.

Alex: Loose, easy, like he was meant to do this. Never in a rush, never greedy, just comfortable. He sleeps on his back, an arm slung over someone’s shoulders, fingers trailing slow, lazy patterns against their skin until he drifts off. His breathing is deep, slow and even, the kind of thing that’s easy to match, easy to fall asleep to. He’s got weight to him, but it’s the good kind, the kind that makes everything feel safer. With Farah, he’s different. Softer still. Likes it when she tucks herself into his side, lets himself drift off with his nose buried in her hair, murmuring something inaudible against her skin. If she ever pulls away in sleep, his hand finds her again—thumb sweeping slow across her knuckles, something small.

Laswell: Intentional, never careless, never absent. She’s not one for tangled limbs, not the type to crush or smother, but there’s a firmness to her embrace, a weight in the way she stays. She sleeps still, rarely shifting, rarely moving, just there, just constant. The only real sign of softness is in the way her fingers curl, lightly brushing against a wrist, against fabric, like a silent reminder.

Her wife is the opposite—moves too much, tangles their legs together, shifts and sighs and clings in sleep. Kate never minds. Just hums, tugs her closer without waking fully, and settles again.

Alejandro: All warmth and certainty. He doesn’t just hold—he envelops, wraps arms around a waist, presses close enough that there’s not an inch of space between him and whoever’s lucky enough to be there. His grip is strong, not tight but assured, like he knows exactly what he has and doesn’t plan on letting go. He’s big, broad, but somehow never overbearing—just solid, just safe. He sleeps deep, heavy, and doesn’t stir unless someone does. Then? His fingers flex, grip adjusting, pressing closer like an instinct. And if it’s Rudy shifting beside him, he just huffs a sleepy laugh, hooks an arm around him, and murmurs, "Quédate aquí, cariño,"—stay here, love—voice low, thick with sleep. Rudy doesn’t argue. Never does.

Rudy: Soft in a way that’s not obvious at first. He holds in quiet ways, never forceful, never imposing, just there. The kind of warmth that sneaks up on you, the kind of steadiness that feels like something unshakable. He prefers holding, rather than being held—arms wrapped slow and sure, a hand smoothing over a back, breath steady against hair. He doesn’t move much in sleep, but his grip lingers, fingertips brushing against skin in a way that feels unconscious. And in the morning, when Alejandro tries to untangle himself, Rudy only hums—just a quiet, knowing sound—and tightens his grip right back.

Nikolai: Heavy, weighty, the kind of presence that settles around someone like a thick, warm coat. He’s not restless, not clingy, but he makes it clear that once he’s in a comfortable position, he’s not moving. If someone shifts, he makes a small noise in the back of his throat, barely awake, grip adjusting, resettling against them. A slow inhale, a deep exhale, and then stillness. With the captain, it’s different. He stays awake longer, shifts just slightly to make sure Price is comfortable, presses a slow, deliberate kiss to the back of his shoulder before letting himself relax. And in the morning, before either of them need to be awake, Price reaches back without opening his eyes, fingers curling around Nikolai’s wrist.

Graves: (Claims he's not a cuddler. Liar.) Holds like he doesn’t realize he’s doing it. An arm slung over a waist, a hand resting just light enough not to be overbearing. He’s not dramatic about it, doesn’t pull or take, just rests against warmth and lets it happen. Likes to lie on top, face buried in a chest, held and holding. And in sleep? He locks down. His fingers curl tighter, his grip firms, something instinctual, something deep.

Roach: Tucks himself in naturally, curls against warmth with a kind of easy comfort. Light but present, the kind of sleeper that doesn’t smother but doesn’t let go either. He breathes slow and even, lets the weight of another person press against him without shifting away. If his fingers twitch in sleep, if they flex against fabric, it’s not conscious—it’s just the way his body remembers touch.

Valeria: Possessive, but not clingy. She doesn’t grab, doesn’t cling—she just presses close and expects someone to stay. One hand resting firm on a stomach, the other tucked beneath her head, fingers occasionally shifting like she’s checking. If she moves in sleep, she adjusts, keeps hold without gripping too tightly. And if someone pulls away, she notices.

Makarov: Still. A grip that doesn’t waver, doesn’t shift, fingers curled against fabric with a kind of eerie steadiness. There’s no desperation in it, no need—just something deliberate, something intentional. He doesn’t move much in sleep, doesn’t tangle, but his grip? It never really loosens.

[swordsandholly]

Steel Magnolia

Part 1 - paused

Simon “Ghost” Riley x fem!plus size!reader

No use of y/n

Rating: Mature/MDNI

Word Count: 2.1k

Author’s Note: I just recently got back into fandom spaces and reading fanfic again and looooove the uptick in fat Y/N characters. Ofc as a big girl myself I wanted to try my hand at writing one too.

Hopefully I’ll post this on AO3 soon. Whenever I get my invite so I can make an acc.

“Oh! Darlin’, did ya see those boys next door?” Mrs. Duprey gasps as you swipe the last of her Bubble Bath OPI polish across her fingers.

“Next door?” You cock an eyebrow. “No one’s been next door since Adam and Eve.”

“I saw them on the way in!” She grins, the corners of her eyes wrinkling pleasantly. “Strappin’ young men - y’should talk t’ ‘em.”

You roll your eyes. “I’m sure I will sooner or later, ma’am.”

“You’ve been single too long.” The nosey old bat contributes. As much as you love her she truly cannot leave well enough alone.

“And I’m perfectly content as such.” You give her your warmest smile.

The trailer home across from you has remained empty for as long as you can remember. It’s well kept - sometimes you see random gardeners mowing or going in an out with tool bags - but no one lives there permanently. You’d think in a beach town it would at least belong to some snowbirds. A timeshare, maybe. It’s none of those things, though. Just a well-maintained, perfectly empty husk.

There’s a metaphor in there somewhere, probably.

Sure enough, as you walk Mrs. Duprey out of your little single wide trailer, you spot a black SUV parked out front of the neighboring double wide. One that is definitely *not* a repair man or worker’s vehicle. She coos at you to make sure to talk to them before waddling off to her own car. She really shouldn’t be driving at her age. You wonder briefly - futilly- if she’d sell you her car in exchange for rides.

You suppose she’s right - even if it is for the wrong reasons. You’re not particularly interested in flirting with the new neighbors. After all, don’t fuck where you eat is a saying for a reason, but it wouldn’t exactly be neighborly to not introduce yourself. Especially with all the people coming and going from your home for your nail tech services. The old Yankee’s catty-cornered from you still believe that you're a drug dealer. At least they only come down for a couple months of the year.

Despite your staunch decision not to flirt, you still find yourself adjusting your clothes. Maybe the sports bra as a top is a bit much…

Fuck it. If they live here now they’ll see you in worse.

You fix your lipstick and throw on your platform sandals. The ones that clip-clop as you walk. Maybe it will help announce your presence.

The screen door wraps quietly as you knock. You take two steps back on the front, wooden porch so as not to come off too aggressively. As the seconds tick by you debate on knocking again. Maybe they’re out. Or busy. They did just move in today, most likely. Maybe you should-

The door creaks slightly as it opens. A very, painfully handsome man pushes the screen door until it clicks in place. “Afternoon, lassie.”

You blink stupidly as he crosses his strong arms and leans on the doorframe. His eyes are a striking shade of blue - somehow both sharp and soft. His dark hair is shaped into a slightly grown-out, un-styled mohawk. It fits him oddly enough.

“I, uh,” you take a deep breath. Christ you need to get laid if just *looking* at a hot guy has you this off kilter. “I live across the way. Just wanted t’ say welcome t’ tha neighborhood.”

That lopsided smile on his face grows into a grin. You don’t miss the way his eyes catch on your chest. “Aye? Nice tae meet ye. Names John MacTavish. M’friends call me Johnny.”

He gives your hand an extra little squeeze after shaking it. That accent might as well have you on the floor. You continue to blink dumbly, watching the at the scar on his chin stretches as he speaks.

Christ almighty, you’re pathetic.

“Nice to meet’ya.” You give him a warm smile, tilting your head to the side slightly. “Ya’ll here for vacation? We don’t get many Europeans ‘round here.”

He chuckles. It’s low and rumbling and would probably feel wonderful with your ear pressed to his chest. “Little bit o’ business, little bit o’ pleasure. This an’ tha’.”

“Hello, there.” Another man pops up from behind Johnny suddenly. Fucking hell, he’s gorgeous too. Older, for sure, with a uniquely cut beard that would probably look rather silly on anyone less handsome. At it stands, he manages to make it appear dignified.

“Ah, jus’ about tae call fer ye, Cap. This is our neighbor.” Johnny gestures toward you.

“John Price.” The man steps forward to shake your hand. It’s firm and professional and thank god your grandad made you practice a good handshake as a kid or you’d be painfully embarrassed.

“Are all UK men named John or is this just some sorta cult?” You blurt, unable to stop yourself from snickering at them.

Older John chuckles at you fondly, his facial hair giving him a pleasant U-shaped smile. “Be easier to remember that way, wouldn’t it? No, we’re with two others. Kyle and Simon. They’re out at the moment.”

“Kyle and Simon.” You repeat, nodding. Johnny, John, Kyle, Simon. “Are y’all in town long?”

“Indefinitely.” Is all Price gives you. It’s a tone that even someone as dense as you can recognize as ‘don’t ask more.’

You clap your hands together and smile a little wider, ready to make your exit. “Well, I’m not here t’be a bother, just wanted t’ welcome ya and, uh, let y’know that I have a lot of people over throughout the day - I’m a nail tech. They shouldn’t bother ya but y’know.”

“Ye can come bother us anytime, bonnie.” The Scot hits you with that grin again and your face suddenly feels far too hot.

A loud, whining screech sounds off from down the road. You check your watch. Holy shit, three-thirty already. You begin to back off the porch. “Ah, nice t’ meet ya again! See ya ’round!”

As you jog down the little dirt road of the trailer park another black car passes you. It’s smaller, a sedan. You make very brief eye contact with a blonde wearing a surgical mask and another man with the sharpest golden eyes you’ve ever seen - even through the tint of the window.

*Kyle and Simon,* you think.

You make a mental note to greet them at some point and continue down the street. The school bus slowly stops at the entrance and you take up your spot in the small crowd of parents. IT’s a shabby old bus - chipping paint and break pads that sounds like they’re about ready to snap. It’s all they’re willing to send out to your little section of the city, though.

Shelby meanders over in your direction, her usual Camel Crush lit up in one hand and the other teasing her already well-lifted hair. “Afternoon. Saw there was some new folks across from ya.”

“Hm?” You keep your eyes on the bus. “Ah, yeah. Just vacationers, I think.”

“Lookers, though.” She chuckles.

“They’re from the UK.” You offer.

“No shit!” Shelby stamps out her cigarette as the bus doors open. “Accent and all?”

“Yep.” You grin.

Shelby tsks and fiddles with her hair again. “I best go over an’ make myself known, then.”

“There’s an older fella with a neat beard. Think you’d like ‘em.” You snicker.

She hums. “I’ll bring a pie.”

The children practically burst out of the bus doors, as always. Ready to be home and shuck off their backpacks to their respective adult. Shelby’s son almost knocks her over, offering a little “Good afternoon, ma’am!” to you before heading off with his mother.

You nod to him, shoving a hand in your pocket as you wait for yours. She’s always the last. Always caught up in a book or something and doesn’t realize it’s time to get off of the bus. Sure enough, the driver has to call back to her before the little girl comes dashing out. She jumps off of the bus steps, despite being told time and time again not to, and kicks a rock on her way toward you.

You bow low for her. “Welcome home, Lady Sophie.”

She giggles, dark curls bouncing as she skips over. “Ni-ni!”

You take her bag from her. The thing really does dwarf the poor six year old. Her hand slips into yours easily. Soft and round and somehow always so much warmer than yours.

“My nail color chipped!” She announces, holding up her ring finger on the opposite hand.

“Oh! Now we can’t have that. I’ll fix it tonight.” You smile, waving at old Mr.Chester as the two of you pass.

“Well now!” He calls. “How blessed am I to see two such lovely ladies!”

You both giggle, continuing on your way. He’s a good landlord - spotted you more than a few times when Sophie was a baby and you couldn’t work consistently. Honestly, as you look around, the little community that he’s managed to build in this shitty corner of the world should be praised. Housing just enough snowbirds to cover his property costs while keeping rent low for the full time locals. Maybe you could convince Natalie at the paper to run a little story on it or something.

As you pull up to your own home, the blonde man is outside leaning on the front of their double wide. Seeing him standing at full height makes your blood run cold. The man is built like a damn barn - tall and wide. Beyond solid. *Brick shithouse*. It’s a bit weird that he’s covered in clothing head to toe but whatever. Weirder things have happened before. The mask still covers his face, you wonder if he had taken it off before you came up or just flipped it up to smoke.

“Sophie, head on in. I’ll catch up.” You push her toward the door. She scampers in, the screen door slamming behind her as you march up to the brick shithouse of a man in front of you.

“Which are ya? Kyle or Simon?” You smile, holding out your hand to shake.

Dark eyes rake over you, stopping briefly on your hand, before moving back to meet yours. He stomps out the half smoked cigarette. “Simon.”

You let your hand drop. Bit rude, this one. “Nice t meetcha.”

The other man pops his head out of the trailer. Kyle, you assume. “Oh. Hello.”

“Hi.” You smile as warmly as you can, giving your name. “I’m assumin’ yer Kyle.”

“Yeah.” He chuckles. “I’m guessing you’re the neighbor Price mentioned.”

You nod, about to speak again but Simon shoves past you, marching his way up the steps. “Let’s go.” He grunts, pushing the other man back into the trailer despite his protests.

You wrinkle your nose at him. What an asshole.

“Who’s tha’?” Sophie asks over the back of the old, worn couch as you let the trailer door slam behind you.

“New neighbors.” You say simply, glancing out the window. “Don’t go over there without me, yeah?”

“Okay!” She agrees, sitting back on the couch and bouncing, beginning her usual post school chant. “Bluey! Bluey! Bluey!”

You drop her backpack down beside the small coffee table. “After yer homework.”

“Nooo!” She pouts.

“Then no Bluey.”

Sophie pouts harder but crawls down in front of the coffee table and pulls out her little work sheets. At least the school doesn’t over run them too terribly with homework toward the end of the year. You glance at the calendar. Wednesday, May 22nd. Damn, she really only has about a week left. Though, you’d be lying if you said you weren’t looking forward to this summer break with her. She’s old enough now that you can take her places like the arcade without having to wait on her so much. You’ll actually be able to play some of the two-player games.

Plus, this year, you actually have a little more pocket change to make it fun.

You turn to look out the window once more at the new neighbors. Their curtains remain closed, cars neatly parked out front. The door opens slowly, the hot Scot and rude blonde wander to the Sedan. Simon’s shoulders shake at something Johnny said - you think he’s laughing but its hard to tell with that mask. Johnny’s head turns, blue eyes meeting yours through the shitty glass windows of your trailer. You squeak and duck to sit next to Sophie, praying that he didn’t catch you staring.

[wordsofwhimsy]

I still think about mc and her friends in that really hot, really wild lensless mark story of yours. After clocking Sadie in the face, how did the rest of the friend group react???

And do Lensless Mark, Mohawk Mark and Shiesty Mark really just use super advanced multidimension travel technology just to meet up from time to time to drink beer and play cards?

I think about these things to this day... And lensless' entire brain getting rewired after being praised post-orgasm ofc. Still haunted by how it it was

omggggg yessss i loved that story

i think Lauren wouldn't talk to her at all anymore - probably being a bitch about it too like 'honestly, i always knew there was something off about [y/n]. ASSAULTING Sadie like that? like, wow, grow up.'

Maya, on the other hand, is way more chill about it. even texted you later like 'lauren’s acting like you threw sadie off a balcony. like, girl, it was one punch. calm down lmao'

and yessss i have this little AU headcanon where they didn't all get wrecked in the invincible wars & mohawk has angstrom as his own personal Dr. Strange type lmao. maybe got him to create some type of tech that could open up portals for them & he uses it to meet up with his boys (lensless & shiesty are the only two he fucks with. he used to like emperor but he was kinda too high strung so they all collectively agreed to stop opening portals to his dimension lmfaooo)

[codenamereaper]

The Ghost & The Reaper

Summary: She’s the blade in the dark. He’s the shadow that never misses. Working side by side, they move like one—but keeping their distance is harder than staying alive.

Warnings & tags: Ghost x OFC, slow burn, friends (colleagues?) to lovers, mutual pining, angst, hurt/comfort, canon-typical violence, childhood trauma (& trauma bonding), multiple POV

Previous Chapter | Read on AO3

Chapter Two

Reaper

The flight back was quiet—debriefing handled mid-air, the weight of the mission already settling behind us. 

At some point, Price radioed ahead and I caught one line:

"Have Soap on standby."

That made me glance between him and Ghost. Not because I cared much, but because I’ve learned to pay attention when men in charge start moving pieces around.

Ghost didn’t react. Just adjusted the strap on his gear absently and kept staring out the window like the clouds held secrets. But there was something under the surface that I couldn’t quite place.

There was a lot about him I couldn’t place, if we’re being honest. He sat still for most of the flight, arms crossed over his chest, eyes behind the mask completely impassive. If he had thoughts about me or the mission, he kept them to himself. 

I wasn’t about to break the silence to ask.

When the transport finally touches down, the sky is already that slate-grey kind of miserable, typical for the Scottish Highlands. It’s just past 7am but it might as well be midnight for how exhausted I feel.

The second the doors open, the chill bites through my tac gear when a sharp, damp wind cuts across the landing pad. It’s the kind of cold that slips under your collar like it’s got a grudge.

I swing my rucksack over one shoulder as we descend the ramp of the helo. Price walks beside me. “Welcome to RAF Scáthach*. Looks can be deceiving.”

When my boots hit the ground, I take a look around. It appears to be an abandoned facility at first glance, but I see a watchtower on the other side that could be a perfect nest for a sniper. I bet if I looked harder I'd spot some cameras around the perimeter fencing and other security measures.

“Above ground, it's just crumbling hangars and old watchtowers. Officially, this place doesn’t exist,” Price explains. “The good stuff's buried underground, where no one can see.”

We make our way across the cracked tarmac and I clock a guy watching us in silence. Tall, mohawk, smaller than Ghost but still looks like he can rip someone’s head off with a well-placed roundhouse.

He stands off to the side, leaning against the outer wall of an old building, arms crossed, clearly waiting for us. He looks well-rested, casual, like he hasn’t just been pulled into something unexpected. Soap, then, I assume.

He straightens when Ghost and Price approach. Then, the moment his gaze lands on me, I see it—a flicker of surprise. His brows lift just slightly, then he blinks, masking it almost as fast. But not fast enough. I can practically hear whatever assumption he had about me shattering in real-time.

His eyes dart between Ghost and Price, questioning, like this is some kind of prank they’re trying to pull on him. I resist the urge to smirk.

He probably expected someone twice my size. A guy, maybe, built like a brick wall. Probably someone like Ghost. Anything but a girl barely brushing five-foot-four, blood under her fingernails and half a tired smile.

Price stops in front of him, and they clasp hands. “You’ll be sharing quarters with MacTavish,” he tells me over the shoulder. “Only spare bunk we’ve got at the moment. That okay?”

I don’t particularly care who I’m bunking with as long as they keep to themselves. So I shrug. “Fine by me, Captain.”

The last few days have been a series of missions, movements, and barely-there downtime, and the thought of finally having a place to drop my gear—even if just temporarily—is more appealing than it should be.

Soap coughs once, then turns to me properly. “Right then. You must be Reaper.”

“Last I checked,” I reply, adjusting my pack over my shoulder.

“Johnny MacTavish,” Soap says, offering a hand. “Everyone calls me Soap. You don’t have to, but you’ll hurt my feelings if you don’t.”

“Reaper,” I say, gripping his hand briefly. “I’m sure you’ll survive.”

That earns me a grin. “Oh, I like you already.”

Then his gaze flicks to Ghost and lingers, likely a silent check-in, an unspoken question. 

Ghost tilts his head ever so slightly, voice low and dry. “She’ll do.”

I raise an eyebrow, crossing my arms. “High praise, really. I’ll put that on my résumé.”

Soap blinks like he’s just been slapped and his brows twitch up. That pause says everything—it’s clearly not the answer he expected. Then he gives me a silent once-over, less judgment and more genuine curiosity this time.

“Soap will show you around.” Price claps a hand on my shoulder, effectively pulling my attention. “Get some rest, kid.”

I nod before he peels away without another word. Ghost follows, grunting low as he walks past us.

“Charming fella,” I mutter, as soon as he’s out of ear shot.

“Absolutely,” Soap chuckles, and gives me a quick head nod. “Didn’t picture you like this,” he admits. “Figured you’d be… scarier.”

“Most people do,” I say. “That’s usually their first mistake.”

He grins wider. Then jerks his thumb toward the underground entrance where the others disappeared into. “C’mon. I’ll show you where we’re holed up. Try not to judge our little underground bunker too hard. We’re very sensitive.”

“Don’t worry, I’m sure I’ve seen worse.”

I follow him inside, boots echoing off the concrete. He talks a mile a minute, tossing out nicknames, half-finished stories, and warnings about the quirks of the base as if he’s afraid silence might swallow us whole.

“Mind the third step down this hall—creaks loud enough to wake Price from a coma,” he says, pointing as we descend. “Training area’s on this floor, armory’s just past that. Medical bay’s next to it—don’t ask why, you’ll figure it out eventually.”

He takes a sharp left and slaps a big red button on the wall. A door groans open, revealing another underground stretch of the base—concrete walls, dim lights, and a chill that seeps into your bones. The air smells like metal, coffee and faint gun oil.

“Mess is closer to the barracks. You’ll probably get lost a few times, but if you smell burnt toast and shitty coffee, you’re close,” he continues. “And if the lights flicker twice in there, that’s not Morse code—it just means Gaz tried to microwave something he shouldn’t.”

I arch a brow. “Define ‘something he shouldn’t.’”

“Let’s just say the inside of the microwave still has some charred bits of melted plastic we never managed to get rid of.”

“Lovely.”

Soap grins. “You’ll get used to the chaos. Just keep your boots off Price’s table and don’t touch Ghost’s tea stash.”

That catches me off guard more than it should. “Ghost drinks tea?”

“Religiously. The man’s an enigma, but God forbid you mess with his Earl Grey. Had a bloke once who drank the last packet—swear Ghost’s hand twitched like he wanted to reach for his handgun right there.”

“Sounds about right.”

We move deeper into the base. It’s a mix of sterile corridors and old reinforced concrete, the kind of place that still hums with Cold War memories. The smell of disinfectant coming from the hallway leading to the medbay overpowers everything else before we go down another flight of stairs. 

“Quarters are down this way,” he says, motioning me forward. Soap moves like he’s used to being in control of his space, comfortable but still easygoing. “You know, I’m pretty sure Price stuck you with me ‘cause I’m the most socially adjusted one around.” 

“Uh, is that code for ‘loud enough to break the tension when Ghost’s being extra murdery’?” 

Soap snorts. “You catch on quick.” He pushes open the door leading to a long hallway lined with evenly spaced doors. “So why’d you sign up? What made you wanna do this job?”

I exhale, reading the names on the doors as we walk by. “Didn’t sign up.”

Soap frowns slightly. “What do you mean?”

I glance at him, debating how much to say. “Price invited me.”

His expression shifts, curiosity deepening. “That so?”

I nod. “Maybe he thought you lot needed someone to keep your asses out of trouble.”

Soap lets out a short laugh, shaking his head. “Oh, that’s rich. Price must’ve thought you were some miracle worker, then.”

“Something like that,” I say with a half smile.

“Think you’re up to the task?”

I shrug. “Guess we’ll find out.”

Soap watches me for a beat, then nods. “Fair enough.”

We pause in front of a reinforced door with two nameplates already slapped on it—Soap and now, underneath, Reaper.

“How official,” I mutter.

“Price likes to label things,” Soap says, pushing the door open and stepping aside with a mock bow. “After you.”

The room is basic—two bunks, two lockers, a small desk shoved against the far wall. The covers on the bed furthest from the door are slightly wrinkled, like someone was lying there not long ago. There’s a black notebook on the desk and a half-empty bottle of water on the same side. 

I step inside and drop my bag beside the bed that doesn’t look lived-in. This is not much different from every other barracks I’ve ever stayed in. At least it’s not just an old mattress on the floor, so that’s something to be grateful for. 

The adrenaline from the mission's long gone, and exhaustion is settling in like a weighted blanket. I need to sleep, I need food and a shower. Perhaps not in that order.

Soap watches me for a second, then nudges the door shut with his boot and leans against the wall. “So… what’s your deal?”

I glance at him. “That’s subtle.”

He grins, unrepentant. “C’mon. You’ve got the whole ‘mysterious loner’ thing going on. Ghost’s got it too, but you’ve got a different flavor. Less murdery, more… haunted.”

“Charming.”

“I mean that in the nicest possible way.”

I don’t answer right away. Instead, I unzip my rucksack and start unpacking—just the essentials. Extra ammo mags and spare knives go on my locker. A beat-up copy of Bravo Two Zero that’s survived five deployments and two IEDs on my side of the desk. My zippo lighter resting on top of it.

Soap sits on his bed, watching me like he’s trying to piece me together. His eyes follow me as I move around the room, tracking my every motion like I’m some cryptid he’s studying.

I can feel the weight of it—his curiosity. He’s waiting for me to drop some kind of hint, a clue that might tell him who the hell I am and where I came from.

Tough luck. I’m not going to make that an easy task.

Instead of giving him what he wants, I ask, “You always this chatty?”

“Nah,” he says with a mischievous smile. “Only when I’m bored. Or nervous.”

The scent of gunpowder and sweat clings to everything I’m wearing. I peel off my tac vest and toss it on the floor. Then tug my overshirt over my head, sleeves still stained with dried blood, and drop it onto the growing pile.

“Which one is it now, bored or nervous?”

Soap shifts on his bed and lies on his back, sprawled out like he’s got nowhere to be. One arm flung behind his head, the other resting on his chest. 

He grins at me, unabashed. “You’re kinda scary so I’m a bit nervous, not gonna lie.”

I snort under my breath and tug off one of my boots, tossing it with a heavy thud onto the floor. “You have no idea” I mutter.

Soap just hums, amused. His gaze never wavers, even as I sit on the edge of the bed and start unlacing the other boot with slow movements

“So,” he says after a beat, “the op went well?”

I remove my hidden combat knife from inside my other boot before kicking it off as well, and lean forward, elbows on my knees. “I didn’t die. That’s usually my bar.”

Soap snorts. “C’mon lass, give me something.”

I roll my eyes, grab a towel from my duffel, and wipe some of the grime and dried blood off my hands before responding. “Well… Ghost didn’t slow me down.” 

Soap barks out a laugh, shaking his head like I just told the world’s best joke. “Oh, he’s gonna love that.”

I glance at him, and without meaning to, the memory flickers—Ghost’s voice in the helo, low and dry as he muttered, “Soap’s gonna love this one.” Like he already knew how this conversation would play out.

“Funny,” I say, tossing the towel aside. “He said the same thing about you.”

Soap perks up instantly, sitting up straighter like I just activated some hidden command word. “He did?”

“Yeah.” I smirk as I unzip a side pocket and pull out a crumpled ration bar. “Said you were gonna love me.”

Soap blinks. “Ghost said that?”

I nod, tearing open the wrapper with my teeth. “Well, not in those exact words. More like… ‘Soap’s gonna love this one.’ Real heartfelt.”

He lets out a low whistle and leans back against the wall, eyes wide with mock awe. “Bloody hell. That’s practically poetry coming from him.”

I take a bite of the bar, chewing slowly, pretending not to enjoy how off-balance he looks. He’s still trying to figure me out—and now he knows Ghost might already have.

The room’s gone quiet, except for the hum of the ventilation and the occasional groan of pipes hidden somewhere deep in the walls.

Soap’s voice cuts through it, softer this time—thoughtful. “He doesn’t say things like that lightly, y’know.”

I pause halfway through a bite. “I figured.”

He’s sitting up now, legs crossed on his bunk, elbows resting on his knees as he watches me. There’s no teasing in his expression this time—just curiosity and something else. Caution, maybe.

“You get under his skin or something?”

I don’t say anything right away. Not because I don’t know how to answer—but because the question is too close to something I haven’t put into words yet.

“Not on purpose,” I say finally. “We didn’t exactly spend a lot of time talking.”

“Still…” 

Soap squints at me, like he’s trying to see through fog. “You’ve got him clocked already, don’t you?”

I shrug one shoulder, turning back to my pack. “Enough to keep up. Tonight was just… easy.”

I drop into a seated position on the edge of the bed and stretch my arms behind me, rolling my shoulders until they pop. The tension still lingers in my spine, a phantom from the mission that hasn’t quite let go yet. I wince as one knot tightens, then breathe out slow.

Soap tilts his head. “Easy?”

“Yeah.”

“Never thought I’d hear someone say that about working with Ghost.” His brow furrows, like he’s been giving a piece of the puzzle that doesn’t quite fit. “He doesn’t always tolerate new people, let alone say anything close to a compliment.”

“He didn’t.”

“Oh, trust me—‘she’ll do’ is practically a love letter, coming from him. Means he’s already counting you as one of us.” He glances at me over his shoulder, raising an eyebrow. “And that’s honestly kinda freaky, not gonna lie.”

I let out a quiet huff, more amused than annoyed, and start undoing the velcro on one of my kneepads. “Why?”

“Ghost is picky about who he works with, and it takes him a while to get used to new people. Makes me wonder what the hell you did tonight.”

He says it like he expects a full report, eyes narrowed like he’s waiting for a confession. I debate brushing him off. But instead, I give him just enough.

“We didn’t even have to talk out there,” I say, tugging off the other kneepad. “We just did our job. No drama, no fuss.” I glance at him. “I mean, I thought I was the quiet one until I met him. We exchanged maybe… ten words.”

Soap straightens a little. “During the op?”

“Total. Since Price introduced us before the briefing.”

“That so?”

“Yeah.” I lean back on my hands, staring up at the ceiling, voice quieter now. “You ever work with someone and it just clicks? No uncertainty. No stumbling over each other. You move, they move. Go in, do what you gotta do, and get out.”

Soap goes still for a second. “Ghost’s not exactly the click-with-anyone type.”

“Guess we’re both weird, then.”

Soap just hums, his tone light but observant. “You’ve already cracked his surface, I can tell.”

I glance over at him, one eyebrow raised as I pull my legs up onto the bed, sitting cross-legged. “Yeah?”

He nods, stretching like a cat before slouching back against the headboard, arms folded behind his head. “Mm-hmm. He didn’t glare once on the landing pad. Coming from Ghost, that's the same as a hug.”

I snort, resting my forearms on my knees. “Maybe he was just too tired to be annoyed.”

“Doubt it,” Soap says, chuckling. “Man could be bleeding out and still judge you with a single look.”

That earns a quiet laugh from me, soft and unexpected. He's not wrong. Ghost has a stare that could strip paint off a wall—and I’m not sure whether I passed through it unscathed or he just didn’t bother trying.

He watches me, that same little grin tugging at the corner of his mouth like he’s filing this entire conversation away somewhere in his brain for future reference. “You’re not what I expected.”

I smirk as I pull my hair loose from its braid, fingers running through the tangled strands. “Most people say that right before they start running in the opposite direction screaming.”

He laughs, bright and genuine, like he didn’t expect me to have a sense of humor. “You’d have to do a lot worse than ‘efficient in combat and surprisingly sarcastic’ to scare me off.”

“Give it time,” I mutter, pulling my hair into a loose ponytail and flicking the tie around it.

Soap raises an eyebrow, grinning. “That a promise or a threat?”

I shoot him a look. “Depends on how loud you snore.”

“You’ve got attitude, I’ll give you that.”

I let out a soft snort, surprised I’m even still talking. I usually shut down after missions. Go silent. Vanish into my own head. But Soap makes it hard to stay closed off—he talks like the world hasn’t broken him yet.

That’s refreshing. 

It’s strange—this ease. I’m not used to it. Not with strangers.

I shift on the bed, propping one knee up and leaning back on my hands. The mattress isn’t exactly comfortable—standard issue, stiff as hell—but it’ll do.

“Really, though. You snore?” I ask, tilting my head toward him.

He lifts an eyebrow, mock offense written all over his face. “You planning to smother me in my sleep if I do?”

I grin. “Just gathering intel.”

Soap huffs a laugh, ruffling a hand through his mohawk like he’s considering whether this is a trap. “Nah, not usually. Unless I’m sick. Or really, really drunk.” He pauses, then gestures vaguely in my direction. “You? Any weird sleeping habits I need to know about?”

I hum, pretending to think, dragging it out as I reach into my bag for a spare shirt to change into after a shower. “Well, I do this thing where I levitate six inches off the bed and speak in tongues around 3am.”

Soap snorts, loud and abrupt. “Ah, brilliant. Can’t wait. Should I keep holy water on standby?”

“You can try.”

I settle back against the wall, tucking one leg under the other. My body’s starting to calm, with that dull soreness that always creeps in after the action stops finally setting in. There’s a moment of quiet between us—not awkward, not tense. Just… still.

Then I speak, my voice low and even.

“I sleep light.”

Soap doesn’t say anything at first. He just watches me, expression unreadable now. Waiting. Listening.

I exhale through my nose, slowly, eyes fixed on the far wall.

“If you ever notice me slipping out for a stroll in the middle of the night,” I murmur, quieter this time, “just turn around and go back to sleep, yeah?”

The weight of the words hangs in the air like smoke. I don’t look at him. Don’t need to.

A beat passes. Then another.

Soap’s voice comes soft and steady, no hesitation.

“Aye.”

That’s it. No questions. No judgment. Just that simple word, like an unspoken agreement. Like he’s already accepting my quirks.

I nod once, just enough to feel it. Then I lie back and close my eyes, giving myself a moment to rest before crawling out again to take a shower.

It’s not trust. Not yet.

But it’s something.

--

*Scáthach is pronounced "Ska-ha" (IPA: /ˈskaːhax/).

The "Scá" sounds like "ska" (as in Skate or Scar). The "thach" is a softer "ha" sound with a slight guttural "ch" at the end (similar to the "ch" in the Scottish "loch" or German "Bach").

--

📍 Click here for the tag list

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[creatortools]

Beyond the Stars Listener Designs 1/2

Finally I’m drawing some Listeners from @scytheaudio ‘s universe. Idk why it took me so long-

Anyways I drew half of the Listeners from Beyond the Stars, Sparkles and Zappy! I also gave them clothes idk why I did but I did. (I also drew them without them with the height comparison) These designs are my personal designs, these are most like NOT CANON-

First image is Sparkles and the second image is Zappy! Bellow the cut is height comparison between ALL the listeners and characters (my headcanons Ofc since there isn’t a canon height for them) and references for their clothes!

I envisioned Sparkles to be really really tall (and kinda short king Killain) with a big poofy dress like the diva she is. I gave her planet rings, like halos idk, two on her head and one right on the torso. She can like take that ring in the middle and use that as a throwing blade kinda. Her head has an opening where her mouth is (HER INSIDES ARE GALAXIES-) and her hands and legs kinda fade into a galaxy as well.

I envisioned Zappy a bit more masculine with a spikey Mohawk and is a rockstar? Kinda? They have a star shaped guitar on their back. A bit of body horror, kinda, with the mouth and their limbs kinda being attached by electricity (Half of torso and hands)? I also slightly based them off of the Frankenstein with the bolts on the sides of their head and the limbs being…like that idk. I also thought that Zappy would be the shortest out of the four listeners.

HOPEFULLY I GET THE OTHER TWO LISTENERS OUT SOON 🫶 (Sorry for a whole yap session). Also idk if I wanna make Frost a whole tank or a twig-

Heights: (I CANT BELIEVE IM SHORTER THAN JAYJAY BTW LIKE WHAT)

Clothes:

[pinkyjulien]

▶ Johnny, Mikoshi, and SPI AIs

Years ago I bought some of the original TTRPG sourcebooks and only just recently started to really read through them 👀 It's a blast and I recommend every cp77 fan to get them!

I'm mainly focusing on the Cyberpunk RED era - it's set during the 2040's (2045) and exist as a canon, direct bridge between the Cyberpunk 2020 pen and paper, and the Cyberpunk 2077 game;

"[...] In addition, RED allows us to create something unparalleled in gaming history—a tabletop RPG that serves as the perfect onramp for the expanded and far future of the Cyberpunk 2077 arc. With threads looping forwards and back through the timeline, my partners at CDPR (Patrick, Adam, Marcin, Amelia—let's face it, the whole damned 600+ crew at the CD studio) and our crew at R. Talsorian Games have given you a deep, complex gaming experience you can explore on both the tabletop and the video screen." - Mike Pondsmith, Cyberpunk RED (2020)

In the Cyberpunk RED sourcebook, we get to read through the real events that took place in 2013, the kidnapping and "death" of Alt

"He's coming out of the Hammer, about midnight, and he sees them. Three punks,mohawks bright and bristly with reflected neon, wearing high-collared jackets; gang colors." - Cyberpunk RED, page 5

We also get to read the Arasaka bombing event, how Johnny really died- and who's responsible for getting him soulkilled... 👀

"On the other side of the room, Johnny crouches under a desk, fighting with his past between bursts of gunfire. I left Alt last time. Just abandoned her. Not again. Never again. Better to burn out, says the Hand. Yeah, Johnny says to himself—and he knows what he has to do." - Cyberpunk RED, page 121

I'm obviously not going to post the whole chunks here and DEADASS ENCOURAGE YOU TO CHECK THEM OUT FOR YOURSELVES - especially if you love Johnny, Rogue, Alt and the entire old crew, it's a real treat!

Anyway, the reason why I'm making this post is because I got further into the book and into the parts about AIs

We know our Johnny, the engram stuck in V's head, isn't a reliable narrator; we learn why and how in the previously mentioned stories on how these events went down - We also know that, well, our Johnny isn't really much of Johnny - He, and everyone who has been Soulkilled, are known as "SPI" AIs

"Soulkilled Pseudo Intellects (SPI) are AIs that were originally actual people but have had their consciousness digitized and now exist only on computers in the NET. The process is often not voluntary — Soulkiller programs produce this type of AI. Otherwise indistinguishable from Symbolic Analysis AIs, these "ghosts" were created in huge numbers as Arasaka put its infamous Soulkiller program to work targeting enemies and rivals alike. The majority of these SPIs have gathered in sanctuaries around deserted mainframes and city systems abandoned by Corporations or (as in the case of a number of bio-plague attacked cities along the Asian Rim) totally abandoned cities. Most of these "ghosts" just want a safe place to live; rumor has it that Alt Cunningham, the creator of Soulkiller and a digital ghost herself, has created a number of "ghost towns" in hidden places all over the remains of the Old NET. They pretty much want to be left alone." - Cyberpunk RED, page 263

We learn about other types of AIs in this section as well - but obviously this one grabbed my attention because, well, that's the Johnny we know - and that's also who, what V becomes after Mikoshi (talking here about the canon game events in some of the endings ofc)

It is so interesting and almost comforting in a way to read about this, to have a proper name and description of what we see and experience in game

I'm late to the party of course, I bet this was already a known thing - but wanted to share it here cause again, it was really really interesting to read and made me feel things hHHHH a lot to think about

[rei-ismyname]

The X-Men of Marvel Illustrated

Yeah, yeah, I know. This one is much less male gaze-y than the swimsuit special and has hilarious ads. I think it was a warm-up for the Swimsuit Special tbh.

Bouncing Beast in a shampoo ad. Ultra-X.

Lila Cheney joins a Dazzler show as a special guest, with Cats Laughing supporting. Kitty's having fun.

Festival gig! There's Wolverine on the left with (maybe) Ilyana. Maybe Colossus and Jean or Rachel on the right. A lot of mohawks around - anybody know what that's about?

Polaris and She-Hulk embracing green solidarity is cool, if a little tenuous.

Storm is... flying around with dinosaurs.

Not sure about this. I have to assume Boom Boom is over 18 or she wouldn't be here getting leered at, but I wouldn't put it past either Marvel or Liefield. Cable, you're like 100, what are you doing? Cannonball looks more taken with Tabby's behind than Rictor does. I wonder why.

Cowards! I wanna see Cable in a leopard print string bikini. Very 90s 'humor.' Why does he have a gun as tall as Jubes? Because he's Cable I guess. At least the girls are having fun.

Rachel, Psylocke, Dazzler and Kitty Pryde (plus Lockheed ofc) just kicking it at a waterfall. Rachel is checking out Kitty.

The White Queen and a bunch of villains I don't care about. Viper bought a gun along too, and Emma doesn't need one. This is pretty close to her usual clothes.

Lastly, an advertisement for the Yellow Pages featuring Magneto, lol. Cape game immaculate, as usual. I like to imagine that this is real in universe. Like he walked into wherever and said 'I want to be in a magazine. Make it so or feel the wrath of the master of Magnetism etc.' There's a lot going on here, but primarily Mags being as dramatic as possible.

[mutant-okuri-inu]

Mutaaaaaaaant! Been a while! Just wanna say that I've missed my gal Sigma!

And I want to know MORE about her relationship with Soap if that's okay with you?

Like some facts about those two or any drawings (new or old) you have about them? I've missed them!

Heyyyy, love!! Yeah, I missed my girl too, I don't have time to draw because you know how life can be cruel. (ᵕ—ᗜ—)

Okay, so I thought about these facts at work-

-They exchange dogtags before they go on separate missions and no one sees it 👀

Flirting via radio and if Soap cracks a joke, Sigma will hold her laugh, but she'll giggle slightly and say "Good one. Maybe you have more to share?" Ghost or Price will get annoyed slightly.

"Soap, I'll be fine going alone."

“Noted. But this time you’re stuck with me.”

- Protective Soap mode activated about the dangerious mission-

- Sigma gently traces Soap's scar on his chin, which it calms him

- If Soap's mohawk grows slightly longer, she is on the rescue to buzz it and fix it.

-He owns a journal ofc, his sketches are filled with her face for expression practice.

I honestly don't have much drawings of them, but I'm still working on her fic promiseeee 🤞 I'll work on it when I'll go on vacation.

But thanks for asking! ❤️

[theesirenteller]

Who's The Savior?

Manny, Mayans Mc X OFC

"Bunny, You alright there sweetheart?!" Tanner called out from across the desert. The ex-navy seal stood at the staggering height of six feet and four inches tall, with shaggy chestnut-brown hair, a Greek god-like chiseled build, and a babyish face that was fresh of any facial hair. One of the Mayans stood in front of him with the end of an AK-47 pressed against the back of his curls.  "Alright, you got our girl and we got your guy. Bring us the girl now!" Ordered Riker, A heavily tattooed blonde with wild, piercing blue eyes. His sun-kissed skin was covered in thick layers of ink. Toned and Muscular but not nearly as buff as his best friend. He had platinum blonde hair that was cut short into a sleek back mohawk. His trigger finger itches to unload his M4-carbine into the low lives before him, "Give her to us you fucks!" "Y-yes! I'm okay! Just be cool guys please," She called out with teary eyes and a pleading tone as she stood behind Manny. The tall and lanky male rested his hand against her shoulder as he led her to them. His touch sent unexplainable shivers down her spine. He provided her with this unspeakable security.  "Don't shed no more tears, muñeca, everything's gonna be alright."He whispered raspily and Bunny slowed down her shaky breaths.  "Thank you, Manny." She said in a soft tone that held a delicate whisper to it. His warm hand only squeezed her shoulder in response. Tanner nudged the captive Mayan forward as soon as Bunny was in arm's reach. Bunny went rushing into Tanner's arms and hugged him by the waist tightly. His large hand patted her back and gripped her waist with one of his hands despite holding his gun in the other.  "Fucking wetbacks," Riker seethed before he had unleashed the bullets from his gun. The thought of them doing anything to His and Tanner's girl caused an animalistic rage to boil within him. The man wasn't a stranger to using Mexicans as target practice either. He'd done horrific things to them in his military days and wanted to do worse now. Tanner followed along with his friend and shot forward until Bunny intercepted. "NO! No Riker stop!" Bunny screamed in horror as she watched the Yuma men drop. Without giving her actions much thought, she rushed in front of Manny who had dropped.   "Bunny what the fuck?!" "Get the hell up and away from him, woman!"  "No!" she cried as she sat on her knees beside him. He'd been shot in his knees and shoulders. "This is wrong!  He protected me, He's got a child to go home to for Christ's sake! You can't kill him! I won't let you." Both men gripped their guns tightly as they looked from her to one another. Silently debating with their eyes. "Tanner please…" Bunny pleaded with her more reasonable lover. "Alright sugar," The brunette sighed before shaking his head and slowly began lowering his weapon, "Put it down, Rike." "Fuck." Riker spat in annoyance before lowering his weapon, "Looks like it's your lucky day wetback." he smirked down at Manny, sinisterly. Despite coughing up blood and wheezing, Manny's eyes were stuck in a cold glare towards the redneck. "I'm so sorry, "Bunny whispered as she placed her hand against his cheek. The rumbling of motorcycle engines could be heard in the distance getting closer and closer. The pair held eye contact for a few lingering moments before the plump woman was snatched up by her blonde-haired lover and thrown over his shoulder. "Time to go princess," Riker announced as he pushed her into the backseat of the Jeep. "Move out! They're getting close." Riker hollered as he sent shots into the air in an attempt to prologue how close the Yuma biker gang was getting. Tanner did as told, placing his foot harshly on the gas pedal, and sped off through the desert. 

And months after the events of that weekend happened, Manny couldn't help but let his mind wander off to the bubbly, free-soul, beautiful brown-skinned brunette that saved him. Even when he was safely home with his daughter and family, he wondered how she was. If she was okay, how she looked, and most of all...He wondered if her lips felt as soft as they were when they'd kissed the night before the trade-off. What he didn't know was that she thought of him as well.

[invinciblevariant]

looking at the prompts , i do have a few ideas for characters/ships , but i need help w the plotlines ( ofc you can suggest alternate characters + ships as well / help me out with the prompts that don't have characters + ships ) . edit ; i also have some ideas for at least some prompts in terms of the direction i wanna go , but the rest i will most likely need more help with . lel

i have your loved one (mark/eve feat. powerplex) - powerplex decides that the best way to get revenge on invincible is by taking the one he loves most . after all , invincible took his wife and son from him , why shouldn't he return the favor ?

emotion control (??) - ??

spinal injury (mohawk mark [maverick]/maskless mark [mason]) - (based off of the idea that half-viltrumites can get really bad injuries and take a longer time to heal , especially since the variants are confirmed to be weaker than mainstream mark) maverick suffers a debilitating injury after a fight , leaving him partially paralyzed and out of commission for weeks . mason is there to help his boyfriend through it , no matter how much he gets snapped at .

force feeding (sinister mark [malachi]/mainstream mark) - malachi decides to show mark that he's truly missing out on what he himself enjoys - eating human flesh ...

anger born of worry (maskless mark [mason]/william) - ??

gave up too soon (mark/rex) - ??

secret caretaking (rex/rae) - ??

power fatigue (eve-centric feat. mark) - eve overuses her powers and her body finally forces her to rest in an unlikely (and dangerous) place .

auction of evil (??) - ??

soup for the sick (nolan/debbie) - turns out viltrumites aren't completely immune to human illnesses , something that debbie discovers when nolan gets a cold .

victim blaming (omni-mark [mathayus]/shiesty mark [malcolm]) - ??

caning (cecil & mark) - ??

strapped to an operating table (cecil & mark) - ??

hogtied (conquest & mark) - instead of the traditional viltrumite way of fighting , conquest gets a bit more ... creative in his effort to get mark to understand his point of view .

i ain't got time to bleed (mark-centric feat. oliver) - during a battle with [insert supervillain here] , mark is determined to defend oliver no matter what .

falling through the ice (mark/william) - ??

distress call (sinister mark [malachi]/mohawk mark [maverick]) - loosely based off of @gatorbites-imagines' idea of sinister mark miscarrying his baby , except in this one , he's alone and calls mohawk mark in distress .

internalized prejudice (mark-centric) - ??

gotta stay quiet (omni-mark [mathayus]/viltrumite mark [mercury]) - ??

searching for a pulse (sinister mark [malachi]/mainstream mark) - ??

gangrene (sinister mark [malachi]/sporty mark [montgomery]) - ??

self-loathing (eve-centric feat. rex) - ??

school struggles (oliver-centric feat. debbie & mark) - oliver struggles to make friends at school due to his thraxan side and rapid aging , making him feel left out . both debbie and mark do their best to try and help him .

impaled palm (sinister mark [malachi]/viltrumite mark [mercury]) - ??

parting words regret (mainstream mark/mohawk mark [maverick]) - ??

[krystaldeath]

Do have any headcanons on a Silktea wedding?

OKAY. ANON. I CANNOT APOLOGIZE ENOUGH FOR HOW LONG IVE MADE YOU WAIT FOR THIS. YALL. THIS ASK WAS SENT ON VALENTINES DAY. ITS BEEN ABOUT HALF A YEAR. I AM SO SO SO SORRY.

Anyways uuuhhh Silktea wedding hc’s :)):

* I know I’ve talked about this before but: flowers in Hunt’s hair and Sandy’s beard! Sandy also has his Mohawk laid down to one side and it looks very pretty

* Mo is the ring bearer

* MK and Mei are the flower people (it wasn’t planned originally but they drag Redson into it as well) ((part of me wants Goliath to also be a flower person but that’s simply way too many. But maybe he just carried the traffic light trio as they throw petals around lol))

* Spider Queen planned the whole thing (and she took in to account Sandy’s interests and aesthetics as well! Idk how she makes it (spider hunter and cat & tea loving sailor-therapist) work but I believe she can do anything)

* Pigsy is Sandy’s best man, ofc. I’m a bit conflicted on if Spider Queen or Goliath should be Hunt’s best man/maid of honor… hmmm…

* You decide lol

* Syntax programs a bunch of spider bots to serve as waiters/servers of sorts (MK takes some time getting used to them)

* He even made a robot cat as a wedding gift. Mo takes some time getting used to it

* Sandy cries. When he sees Hunts, at random intervals during the ceremony, at Hunt’s vows, at his own vows, etc you get the picture

* Hunt’s also cries during both vows, albeit a bit more subtlety than Sandy

* I think they both have bouquets. When they toss them each one goes to Spider Queen and Scorpion Demoness. They look to each other and smile softly (VENOMQUEEN WEDDING? VENOMQUEEN WEDDING!)

* Ofc all kinds of tea are served, but the kind Sandy originally gave Hunts is considered the Special Tea of the event

* Hunts: You know, food gifting is considered an act of courting in spider society Sandy: Really? Then I guess this was a long time coming then, huh? ^u^ Hunts, softly smiling: Yes, I suppose it was…

* A bit past the time I would probably put this but Hunts has to jump into Sandy’s arms to kiss him bc of the height difference lol. Syntax will never let him live this down

* Pigsy caters, ofc. Everyone is very well fed

* Let’s say Chang’e meets Sandy at some point and makes the wedding cake. How does it get from the moon to the earth? Idk, teleportation or something I just think they deserve a Chang’e cake (while on that topic let’s say she made the cake for the Freenoodles wedding too bc her and Pigsy are cooking bffs)

* Spider Queen couldn’t be happier for Hunts, even if he’s marrying a friend(?) of Sun Wukong’s

* Speaking of that monkey and his shadow counterpart: they both owe a lot to Sandy bc he probably helps them work out their issues and such so they help out a lot with the setting up and Wukong even allows the venue to be in a very nice spot on Flower Fruit Mountain. Macaque puts on some shadow plays for entertainment as well, mostly second hand retelling a of some of silktea’s moments (minus. The fighting. And such. Not the greatest wedding story lol-)

[vulgaralien]

just realized i never posted this one! the deviantart tag is mine, orginally it also had an insta but i dont post art on there anymore so i removed it. This is my vento auero oc Rovina. She has lore, but as i deem it as cringe i will only drop feed it to anyone reading this. this is her after she gains her epic mohawk. her stand is called freak on a leash but i might change that, it is based off of innervision by system of a down so that really would make more sense for the name. Anyway this is from like idfk man like a few months ago. Flat colors under the cut. i might make a tag for her on my blog bc trust, now that ive let it spill that i have a jojos oc, im going to post her a lot

little pix lore, when i drew this one i hadnt had my laptop for about ~2ish weeks (exaggerating) since i had to send it in to be repaired, and the day i got it back i spent the whole night drawing this. I had been drawing traditionally ofc but digital art will always have my heart

[yummycrummy]

Do u have any refs for ur ocs? They look so skrunkly and I wanna know more about them !! :3

Well idk which ones you mean exactly but ill just show most of them here!! ^_^ happy ur interested 💗🌈!!!!

My design for Lesley's coat shifts around alot- you can just do your own thing if u ever draw her

Sr basically wears the dad fit!! He has blue eyes also, just wanted to make that clear cuz people have drawn him with green and it makes me 🤯

Here's Manny!! :D he looks alot like Sr fjskhf and Doi (the yellow from the show) is his double but the only difference with him is that he has a mohawk and his eyes are just plain and black

And ofc Ucr :D the menace!! He looks alot like the shows Roy but has sharp teef

My other ocs!!!! My silly greaser boys 💕💕💕💕 I don't draw them often as much anymore (well it depends) I have alot more drawings on my Instagram (waaay below) but I hope these are useful !!!