#Bullet resistance Glass

[nando161mando]

A vendor selling bullet resistant glass to schools at a Teacher Convention in America 10/17/2024.

[osggroup]

Who Is The Biggest Consumer Of Ballistic Rated Glass?

A ballistic rated glass is toughened with multiple sheets of polycarbonate. It is made tough for projectiles, especially bullets and blasts. Fabricating bulletproof glass requires technology and experience. The objective of glass fabrication is to make glass stronger and lighter. The world needs glass solutions because it is the only way to keep things safe from terror attacks.

Visit us - https://osg-group.com/2024/11/17/who-is-the-biggest-consumer-of-ballistic-rated-glass/

[pseudowho]

Stoic

When Gojo assumes Nanami Kento's lack of PDA for the reader shows a lack of desire for her, a tipsy Kento is quick to correct him.

Warnings: 18+ drabble, Kento goes on a smutty rant

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'A quick drink' after work had soon turned into two, three, four. Shoko took full advantage of the rooftop bar's balcony, smoking and idly chatting; Higuruma and Atsuya gossipped and quipped, snorting into their drinks; Satoru observed Kento and you keenly behind his dark lens; you stood, excusing yourself to the bathroom as Kento gave you a gentle smile.

"I'm sorry," Satoru interrupted loudly when you were gone, his pot boiling over, "I just-- I just don't get it, Nanami." All eyes were on Satoru and Kento now-- Kento, with one thin eyebrow raised in quiet disdain at Satoru, and Satoru, with his elbows planted forward on his knees in challenge.

A few moments of silence. Kento huffed, "Should I be apologising for someth--"

"--you've been together for years," Satoru interrupted, "and I'm just not convinced. She could be-- she could be a coat rack for all the affection you show her, you're supposed to not be able to keep your hands off her--"

"--you want me to grope my fiancée in public, am I correct--"

"--well maybe, anything to show that you love her--"

Kento laughed out loud, deep and humourless, continuing to chuckle into his glass, scoffing to himself; "Love her," he rumbled, swirling his whiskey, amber eyes flickering and carnal in the firelight.

Shoko had turned, smirking, to watch the scene. Atsuya leaned back, scowling, chewing on a toothpick with crossed arms. Hiromi leaned, glimmer-eyed, into the drama, one hand cupping his jaw and the other clasping his wineglass. He picked up the bottle, slowly beginning to pour another glass.

"I don't love her," Kento spat, downing his glass of whiskey in one smooth swallow, hissing and slamming the glass down on the table, "I worship her. I'm obsessed with her."

Satoru was silent, mulish, as Kento continued.

"I would walk through rains of bullets for her," he mused aloud, "I would cut off fingers with blunt knives--"

"Nanami, alright, I'm sorry--"

"Any second I'm not with her," Kento continued, his voice quieter, darker, the group leaning into him, "is a second wasted. I don't know what point there was in the years I spent without her-- probably just there to build me into even a semblance of the man she deserves--"

"--why are we doing this--"

"-- and when I'm not thinking about talking to her, watching her, being near her, holding her, or-- fuck, just having her look at me goes bone-deep...I spend at least eighty-percent of my time thinking about different ways to make her cum--"

Satoru was blushing now, his face in his hands, while the others leaned into Kento's mild breakdown with awe, "--fucking hell Nanami, I didn't mean--"

"I almost died last week, at work," Kento mused, as a laughing Hiromi slid the glass of wine down the table to Kento, which he caught seamlessly, "because I was too busy thinking about how her mouth had felt around my cock the night before, because I was pondering the many applications for my tie, because I was thinking about how incredible she felt underneath me--"

Atsuya and Shoko whispered together, Hiromi now giggling to himself unashamedly; "Oh he's really going for it--" "I know I know, shhh, let him finish--"

"--and I've been sat here with her all evening, resisting the urge to strip her, tie her wrists together and have her ride me until I go fucking blind, all because of social-fucking-propriety, just for some long streak of jizz like you to say I clearly don't love her--"

Satoru had shrunk in on himself now, his soul quietly leaving his body, mortified and put to rights as Kento tsked, swirling his wine before downing that, too. He accepted the bottle Hiromi slid towards him in approval.

"...it really just is rather rude and presumptuous of you, isn't it, Gojo?"

The group sat in stunned silence as you returned, sitting beside Kento and laying a hand on his crossed knees. You felt the bizarre tension; Hiromi unable to conceal a blush as he looked at you, Shoko giving you a knowing smile around her cigarette, Atsuya unable to make eye contact. You smiled uncertainly.

"...what did I miss?"

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Still waters run deep 💀💀💀

[reiderwriter]

Hello there baby, are your parents bakers? Cause you're a cutie pie lol sorry couldn't resist the urge to flirt with my favorite writer💕How have you been? How was your day? I wish you a wonderful day and a lovely night💕

It's my first time here sending an ask but lately I've been thinking about shy!Spencer x flirty!reader, I just think is such a cute couple.

So if you're taking requests, I was thinking about early seasons Spencer completely falling for the reader and the way she's so flirty but sweet and kind, the way he'd be blushing hard at anything she says and how he'd like the way she's always touching him cause he felt cherised and desired.

It could be fluff or smut or both cause I can picture them going slow with the relationship but Spencer being eager to please her and show how much he loves everything about her.

You said about choosing a emoji, so can I be the 🐇anon?

A/N: Thanks for the request! Shy Spencer is the best because he's so dumb and silly and doesn't realize when people are attracted to him. I've said it before, but he's basically every nerdy main character in 00s romcoms that are "unattractive" because they wear glasses. I hope you enjoy the fic~♡

Warnings: mentions of case details, slight spoilers for upto s5

With a degree in law and a deep-rooted hatred of businessmen, you'd certainly found your calling in one of the FBI White Collar divisions. Putting away the sleazy bastards was easily one of the biggest perks of the job, but every coin had a second side, and yours was you actually had to interact with the cretins before you could take them down. 

You'd dealt with bribes, dinner invites, and sexual propositions more than a time or two, and had to remind yourself that kicking anyone of them clean in the balls was most likely a firing offense, if not legally off the table. 

The man in the case you were currently working - possibly Bill Hodges, possibly Daniel Brady, possibly so many more men - had been a typical white collar freak until he'd moved on to murder. And when you'd been so close to nailing his ass for fraud, too. 

You'd had no choice but to call in whatever unit it was that actually got to put bullets in the bastards, sure that you were going to be strong-armed out of months of work for the glory of taking down a spree killer. 

Instead, you got Spencer Reid, delivered freshly to your desk like a lamb to slaughter. 

“Sorry, you're the agent from the BAU?” You asked, raking your eyes across his body, smiling at his obvious discomfort with the attention. 

“Yes, Doctor Reid. I'm here for more information on the Hodges files.” 

You dusted your skirt off as you stood, moving around the desk to grab the file. You held it out to him but pulled it back when he reached for it.

“I'm sorry, you're really in the BAU?” An embarrassed look fell across his face, and you instantly felt shitty. 

“Do you want to see my credentials?” 

“No, I'm sorry, it's just - I wasn't expecting someone so…pretty?” 

The embarrassed look deepened to a flush, and you brightened at the sight. You weren't lying. He really was pretty, and you hoped your comment hadn't come off as patronizing. 

“You're adorable. Here's the file, I’ll be at your team briefing in half an hour. Spencer, right?” 

He nodded, finally waking up and taking the files as you pushed it against his chest, using the movement to step slightly closer. 

“I'll see you later then,” you trailed your look down, getting a good look at all of him before meeting his eyes again. “Save me a seat?” 

“I should… I'll, uh, go now. Thanks for the-” he stammered, pointing to the file, backing out of your space slowly, like an animal trying not to show its back to a predator. 

Unlike the long line of scumbags filling the halls and case files of your floor, Spencer was without bravado or ego. His lack of both meant that you were interested. You were very interested. 

Half an hour later, you practically sprinted to the 6th floor, bouncing up the stairs to the office where you'd take your meeting like a giddy school girl. 

“Hello, sorry, I'm not late, am I?” You asked, quietly opening the door and letting yourself in. 

“Agent Y/N, no, perfect timing, Penelope was just about to brief us on your case,” Hotch said, rising and giving your hand a firm shake. He looked around to find a seat to usher you into, but you quickly dropped yourself into the seat right beside Spencer Reid, grin deepening as he flushed and offered you an awkward yet endearing smile. 

Unconsciously, you shifted closer, shooting him your own smile before the meeting officially began, and you were forced to keep a straight, serious face. 

The entire case progressed in much the same way, with you doing everything you could to fluster Spencer Reid and him doing everything in his power to convince himself you were being friendly. 

“Spencer, do you have a phone number?” You asked after slipping out of the meeting, trailing him back to his desk. 

“Yeah, we have to keep connected for cases, so I have a phone.” 

“Great. Your number - what is it?” 

He rattled off the digital as you scribbled them down on a notepad. 

“And Hotch's number is-” 

“Oh, I won't need that. Thanks, Spencer.” You said waving as you left to slink back to your desk. You could hear him calling out behind you, confused. 

“Y/N… Y/N, we split up on cases often, if there's an incident and you need to contact us it's better to have all of the team members numbers,” he panted, jogging to catch up with your focused pace. 

“If I need to contact you, I'll take myself to Agent Garcia’s office and use her direct line,” you said, finally stopping yourself at the elevator and pressing the button. 

He caught up, and stopped abruptly next to you. 

“Oh… oh, yeah that's… that's efficient.” 

You stepped onto the elevator when it arrived, leaving Spencer hesitating whether or not to climb in himself, desperately wondering why you'd ask for his number then. 

“Goodbye, Doctor Reid,” you said, pressing the door close button and blowing him a kiss just before the doors blocked you from sight. 

To tell the truth, you'd had a lot of fun flirting with Spencer on the phone from Penelope’s office during the case. The woman was an inspiration, even if her flirting had a completely different purpose and meaning than your own. Her friendship with Derek Morgan was admirable, but you didn't want to be friends with Spencer Reid. 

“Hello, handsome, what can I do for you today?” You asked, picking up the phone and basking in the stammers that answered you down the line. 

“D-Do you need me to get Morgan for you?” He said, his voice treading lightly. 

“Unless Derek Morgan has, overnight, managed to turn into a 6’1 Doctor with a penchant for cardigans and leather satchels and an IQ of 187, then I am absolutely not looking for him. I have case details.” 

He brushed past your comment, but he kept the slight stammer through the conversation, right until you signed off. 

“Until next time, sexy.”

“Um, yeah… thanks…beautiful?” he signed off, and you guffawed in laughter even as Penelope stared wide-eyed in your direction, not believing her ears. 

“Please forgive our little test tube genius. We forgot to add flirting skills to his childhood curriculum, and now, alas, the poor thing doesn't know a damn thing.” 

He'd called back a few hours later, and you'd purred more compliments down the line, but this time with the team surrounding him as they closed in on your unsub. 

“Hello, this is beautiful speaking. How may I help you?” You giggled down the line, picking up the call after only a single ring. 

“Y/N,” he breathed, catching his breath awkwardly as he struggled to remember why it was you were needed. 

“So… um, like… Hotch has a question about the files you sent earlier. He needs Penelope to… do something as well.” 

You could almost see the awkward nod through the phone. 

“Great. Pass me over to Hotch, then, hot stuff.” 

You heard the tell-tale sound of Derek Morgan’s cackle in the background, and you couldn't help but let another giggle slip out. You were a gonner, and, hopefully, so was he. 

The case wrapped quickly after that, spree killing being a quick game of cat and mouse out of necessity. You weren't happy with three bodies, but it sure as hell was preferable to more. 

You greeted the BAU team at the jet hanger as they returned, reclaiming your fraud files for paperwork and using that simple chore as a reason to get close to Spencer again. 

“Good work out there, Doctor Reid.” 

“What, he's not hot stuff anymore now he's in front of you?” Emily Prentiss laughed, throwing her go bag onto her shoulder and trailing behind where you'd started strolling alongside Spencer. 

“Oh, he's still hot stuff. He's just hot stuff with three PhDs that just stopped a spree killer,” you said, sighing dreamily. “How do you do it?” 

“We were all there too, you know,” the other woman chuckled as you made it inside the building and to the elevator. 

“Yeah, well,” you said, taking a second to reach out and straighten out Spencer's skewed tie, smoothing his jacket and generally just touching him in whatever way you could, respectfully. 

You didn't even bother to finish your sentence, just leaning closer to his ears and whispering directly into them. 

“You're very cute when you're flustered, Doctor Reid.” 

You stepped away for a second while the rest of his team teased him, stepping to the back of the elevator to ascend to your floor while the others departed on theirs. 

They filed out one by one and you sent them off with a smile and a wave, signing in defeat as you realized there was no longer a reason for you to interact with the good doctor ever again. 

If you weren't so stupidly aware of him, you'd almost have missed the fact that Spencer didn't leave the elevator when his teammates did. He instead turned to you and, with the brightest red you'd seen on his face to date, stammered out half a sentence. 

“I.. Y/N, I was just… curious, if you, by any chance…” 

Your eyes widened in joy as you anticipated his question, silently begging him just to spit it out. 

“I was wondering, i-if you had… a boyfriend?” By the end of his sentence, even he seemed unsure of whether that was a question he should really be asking. 

You'd been throwing heart eyes at him for says, and he was asking if you were in a committed relationship. 

“No,” you said slightly breathily, as if your body were trying to expel all the anticipation it had stupidly built up. “No, I don't have a boyfriend, Spencer.”

“Great okay,” he smiled, a boyish grin if you'd ever seen one, before backtracking quickly.

“Well not great for you, great for me. Not that you can't be happy alone, I don't know how you feel about…romantic entanglements and I-I-I’m not saying that your life isn't,” he searched for the words with his hands, as of he could grasp them as a life line while he was sinking fast. “-Great without a boyfriend or anything like that, I'm just - really - pleased that position is currently… vacant?” 

“Spencer?” You said, feeling like a cat who got the cream as a smile twitched at your lips, pulling the corners up as you listened to him ramble. 

“Yes?”

“Do you want to be my boyfriend  or are you asking for a friend?” 

You'd meant the words as a joke  but he stood contemplating for a second. You pushed a hand against your mouth to suppress the childish squeal from popping out. 

“It would be a bit presumptuous to shoot straight for boyfriend, right? How about date ....partner?” 

You couldn't stop yourself from closing in on him then, practically cornering him in the elevator as the floors passed you by.

“Presumptuous would be thinking I could have a boyfriend when I've been begging you to stick your tongue down my throat with my eyes for the last half hour. I thought they taught you body language at the BAU?” 

“They teach us how to catch criminals, not how to see when someone is giving us…fuck me eyes, Y/N.” The curse left you a little dizzy - this was it, this was what you'd been trying to do all week, to get under his skin and get him to let his guard down so you could capture him. 

“Doctor Reid, I'm a little scandalized! I didn't know you swore. What a dirty mouth you have.” You reached up with both hands, letting your thumb on his lips before pretending to wipe something away at the corner of his mouth. You were in the perfect position to notice his throat bob as he swallowed.

The elevator pinged at your floor, and you left him behind you with one last swipe of your fingers at his chin. You weren't expecting him to follow, but he did.

“Y/N…please, Y/N…. Can we just…?” You relished the awkwardness in his voice as he trailed you again, a satisfied smile settling onto your face. 

You just kept walking. Or you did until you felt a large hand wrap around your wrist and pull you sideways into the nearest storage cupboard. 

You gasped as he pinned you to the wall, close not, but his eyes still hesitant on what to do next. 

“Spen-” He cut you off with his lips on yours, silencing you before you could get the final word. His lips were clumsy at first, but you felt hot under his touch  arching yourself up into him. His tongue pushed into your mouth as he found his stride, your hands tangling in his hair as you held on for dear life.

This was it. This was what you'd been waiting for. 

Reluctantly, he pulled away, both of you gasping for breath to fill your suddenly empty lungs. 

“Was that….what… you wanted?” He panted, resting his head on yours. 

There were no words. It was what you wanted but now you wanted more, needed more. You settled for a quick nod as your tongue flamed, unable to say anything helpful. 

“Good. Great…” he removed his hands from you and scratched at the back of his neck, putting a more respectful distance between the two of you as he cleared his throat. 

“I'll just-” he pointed to the door and started making his way out. You sighed again, watching him walk away down the hall, his hair a mess, his tie askew, and a whole lot of your lipstick staining his lips. 

Surely, he'd notice by the time anyone else did. If not, you'd just effectively staked your claim on Doctor Spencer Reid, and you couldn't be happier about it.  

[abbyshands]

SPENCER’S!ELLIE

⋆𐙚₊˚ content warning: 18+, fem!reader implied, sub!reader, dom!ellie, vibrator usage, the back of spencer’s just says it all, abby feature, praise, use of baby, reader wears glasses

⋆𐙚₊˚ READ THIS FIRST. | LINKS FOR PALESTINE | DAILY CLICK

⋆𐙚₊˚ MASTERLIST

oh, nothing, just thinking about spencer’s!ellie who’s seen many girls in your place before, but could have sworn you shouldn’t have been in a store like this. like, really shouldn’t have been. your friends had dared you to give the store a browse because allegedly, you were too innocent. ellie’s quickly drawn to you in that cute skirt and glasses, clutching your messenger bag like a lost puppy. and quickly, she’s drawn to you, the first to say “welcome to spencer’s” when you walk in.

spencer’s!ellie whose best friend and coworker, abby anderson, bets you’ve never even seen a dildo before. spencer’s!ellie whose best friend and coworker, abby anderson, is right.

spencer’s!ellie who finally walks up to you browsing the back of the store, looking like you met the devil in the flesh. “you good back here?” she’d ask you, causing you to jump out of your head and back into the present. nervously, you nod. “what? yes. yes, i’m fine. just fine,” but it’s a lie. you’re here wondering if human anatomy even allows for most of these toys to in fit any holes of the body. spencer’s!ellie, who you ask to recommend you a product, that’s according to you, “small,” and “tame.” she chuckled at how shy you seemed to make the request. “like a vibrator, baby?” she asked, like it was common knowledge, like everyone knows vibrators were always the answer. she shows you one, a small blue bullet that seems easy enough to use, but dumbly, you ask, “so it just, does the work for me?”

spencer’s!ellie who can’t miss this chance. “oh, baby. maybe i should give you a little tutorial,” and of course, you agree, because who wouldn’t want those emerald eyes on their own while getting fucked with a vibrator? “come with me.”

spencer’s!ellie who ended up shoving you into a closet in the backroom of the store, sat on a chair, skirt pulled up as she rubbed the vibrator in slow, delicious motions over your aching clit. ellie’s hand was over your mouth, shushing you so you were inaudible. “shhh, be quiet, baby. you don’t want people to hear, do you?” she asks, her voice a whisper as she carries on with her work, causing you to shake your head. “good girl.”

spencer’s!ellie who pushes the vibrator inside you just for fun, nearly laughing at the way you nearly shriek. “fuck, you are such a slut, aren’t you, baby? yeah, you like the way it feels inside you, huh?”spencer’s!ellie who’s wet at the whines and whimpers leaving your lips as your hips rock forward, her hand having fallen at this point to let you speak, because it was too hard to resist. “that’t it, attagirl. being so quiet for me, even when it feels so good. dyin’ to scream my name, aren’t you?” spencer’s!ellie who single handedly (pun intended) has you coming in the backroom of a fucking spencer’s. “you gonna come for me, baby? yeah, fuck, baby, c’mon, make a mess on my fuckin’ hand.”

everybody thank @sugarevans and our unhinged ft call yesterday for this <3

[cntloup]

one-night stand You can't resist Simon's unintentional charm mention of trauma, thoughts of getting killed

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Your friends notice your gaze occasionally drifting onto something afar as you try to engage in their conversation. 

There's a tall burly figure standing by the bar, holding a glass of bourbon while his elbow rests on the counter.

There's something subtly alluring about him, exuding masculinity and gruffness. 

And there’s a hint of pain in his eyes, a heavy weight on his shoulders, you come to notice as your gaze lingers on him through the night. 

And you feel each one of the scars adorning his face and hands has a story behind it. 

He has a story, you think to yourself. 

He has noticed the set of eyes on him long before he decides to finally give you some attention. 

He just didn’t think much of it before since he deemed you harmless, used to the gazes and glares of strangers. 

And finally his eyes meet yours, profound stare burning through your soul, his intense glare melting you as the bright shining sun, but you can’t bring yourself to look away. 

And you find yourself gravitating more and more towards him as you take each step in his direction as if enchanted by a siren’s song. 

Until you’re inches away from him, your eyes locked onto each other, neither of you daring to look away as if you do, the other person will disappear. 

You both feel the captivating pull, the igniting flames between you and you both feel like you have found what you were looking for all your lives. 

His hand comes up to softly caress your cheek and he leans in until his lips are beside your ear, “Your place or mine, love?” he murmurs, voice low and dark, sending a wave of shivers down your body and making the aching heat between your legs almost unbearable. 

“Whichever’s closer.” you breathe out, your voice barely above a whisper like he has knocked the air out of your lungs by his mere presence. 

And you find yourself on his bed, mewling and whimpering under his bulky weight as he rolls his hips into yours, reaching far deep inside you like you could never even imagine, like no other man could ever reach. 

He tenderly kisses your body, your skin so delicate and soft under his rough hands and scarred lips. 

Your mind is lost in a euphoric haze as he treads the line of fucking and making love, balancing the contradicting notions like no other man ever could. 

He fucks you like no other man ever could, the sweet ache lingering on your body and in your mind the day after, long after you have left. 

And his mind is encompassed by you, his senses captivated by your allure, beauty and grace. 

He reaches out again. He found the piece of paper with your number on it on the pillow the day after. He simply can’t stay away from you anymore. 

He spent a long time struggling with himself, wrestling with the thoughts of getting closer to you,

knowing fully well how the people who get close to him end up and the thought of you ending up with a bullet in your head like the rest of his family replay in his mind,

the doubt in his heart that whether or not he will be a good partner at all gnaw at him constantly. 

He knows that he’s no good for you, you deserve far better than him. 

But he knows you want him too, the ghost of your tender touch and fiery kiss still present on his skin, etched onto his soul.

And he's been the only thing occupying your mind all this time, utterly enamored by him.

And your heart nearly skips a beat as your phone rings with an unknown number, hoping that it’s him.

new series?👀

[sirfrogsworth]

So Trump got PTSD.

He started watching his assassination attempt over and over on a loop.

He started skipping outdoor appearances.

And instead of getting him actual mental healthcare, the solution going forward seems to be...

TALK IN THE TRAUMA CUBE.

THE TRAUMA CUBE WILL PROTECT YOU.

I'm also betting no one has told Trump that polycarbonate shields are only bullet-resistant. There isn't actually such a thing as bulletproof glass. And it looks like those sheets are less than an inch thick. Which are typically rated for small arms fire. It might catch a round or two from an AR-15 style rifle before failing. But anything in a more hunting-grade caliber could go straight through on the first or second shot.

Again, I'd never tell Trump that. He would easily believe he is invincible if they said it was magic science glass.

[cosmicdahlias]

Take Me Under

a ford x reader fic

MINORS DNI

Bill knows Ford likes you and makes him drug you while possessed. After a short internal struggle of morals, he decides to take advantage of you.

warnings: NONCON, drugging, somnophilia, oral, smut

so this is a spiritual successor to my last fic, it’s not a continuation but the themes are similar

It was a warm summer night in Gravity Falls. The crickets chirped as you sat out on the porch with your research partner, Stanford Pines. You nursed your glass of whiskey that Ford had poured for you. It had been a long night of research, Ford was trying to build an interdimensional gateway, stuff you would’ve thought five years ago only existed in science fiction, but he really was a genius.

His other partner had already gone home for the night, Fiddleford. He was a good guy, but you were kind of happy he had left already. You liked him just fine but the truth was you had feelings for his cohort.

You blushed whenever Ford looked your way, eyed his hands as they fiddled with the laboratory devices, wondering to yourself how his hands would feel on you. There were so many times you wanted to tell him how you felt, to confess your true feelings. With Fiddleford almost always present the timing never felt right, but tonight you had Ford all to yourself.

Neither of you said much, just taking in the night air. You bounced your leg nervously, you started to feel light headed but decided to ignore it. Ford studied your face, it was clear you were anxious about something.

“Y/n, are you okay?”

You bit the bullet and took a deep breath.

“Ford, I-“

But before you could get another word out the world around you began to sway, the corners of your vision going black, the darkness slowly creeping in. You felt yourself falling forward. The last thing you heard was Ford’s voice.

“Y/n? Y/n!”

-

Ford caught you in his arms, he looked down at you, not sure what to do. He shook you.

“Y/n! Y/n!”

He tried to collect his thoughts, what the hell had just happened? You were fine all day and now you were out cold. He put a hand to your forehead, it felt normal, you weren’t sick.

A chilling laugh that made the hairs on his neck stand on end echoed through his head.

“Well well well well well well well well well, looks like the perfect opportunity is right in front of you, sixer.”

Ford swallowed. “Bill?”

“The one and only. So what do you think of my handiwork?”

“Handiwork? What handiwork?”

“Oh come on, you’ve been pining after this kid for ages and you’ve been too darn afraid to do anything so I figured I’d throw you a bone.”

Ford felt a pit grow in his stomach “Bill… what did you do?”

“It’s really not that big of a deal, sixer. I just had you add a little something special to their drink.”

Ford was horrified. “Bill, that’s- you can’t-“

“Oh come off it Fordsy, you and I both know this is a golden opportunity. Do you seriously think you’re gonna have the guts to even kiss them when they’re awake?”

Ford bit his lip, Bill was right, he was a coward when it came to you.

“Mull it over, I’ll leave you two alone for now, don’t be a pussy. Byyyyyyeeeee.”

And with that things were quiet again, it was just Ford and you lying unconscious in his arms. He felt his pulse in his throat. He had wanted to kiss you, to know you intimately for so long. Would he really get another chance like this?

He stood up, and carried you through the front door. He walked through the dark cabin, the floorboards creaking underneath his feet. He opened the door to his room and walked to the edge of his bed, setting you down gently on the plush covers.

He cupped your cheek, stroking it with his thumb. He knew it was sick, but thought you looked incredibly cute passed out. Your lips were parted slightly, so kissable. He couldn’t resist, he leaned down and kissed you deeply and felt himself grow achingly hard. Fuck, this felt so wrong but he didn’t have the will to stop himself now.

His fingers traced the top button of your blouse, undoing each of them slowly, kissing his way down the valley between your breasts as he did so.

He thumbed the delicate lace of your bra, god if you hadn’t planned to be seen like this why would you wear something so sexy underneath? He slipped a hand down your back to sit you up so he could undo your bra.

He sucked in a breath as he laid you back down and took in the sight of your breasts, they were so fucking perfect. He had pictured it in his mind thousands of times but the real thing was even better than he imagined. He took one of your nipples in his mouth, swirling it with his tongue. Taking your other breast in his hand, he circled your nipple with his index finger.

His cock throbbed through his pants. If this was wrong why was he so turned on? Was he really that depraved? He shook his head, trying to escape the thoughts and enjoy the moment.

He ran his calloused hands up your thighs and started to pull down your pants. He let out a small dark chuckle, matching underwear. Yeah, you were asking for this. He hooked his thumbs in the waistband of your panties and slid them off your legs. The sight of you elicited another sinister laugh from him. You were soaking wet, even in your unconscious state your body begged for him.

He pulled his hands off of you and began removing his trench coat, next his sweater vest and collared shirt. He unbuckled his belt, letting it hit the floor with a loud thud. He slid his boxers off of his hips and let them fall over his discarded pants.

He stroked himself absentmindedly as he studied your naked body. He wished he had a polaroid camera so he could save this moment forever. He wanted to ravage you, claim you. Then it occurred to him that it would only be fair to make you cum if he was going to destroy you.

He slid himself down the length of your body, leaving a trail of kisses in his wake. His hot breath tickled your pussy. He took your clit in his mouth, his tongue flicking it rapidly. He moaned into your pussy, you tasted so fucking good. He wished that you were awake so you could tangle your fingers in his hair. He slid his index and middle finger inside of you, pumping roughly into you.

He felt your walls tighten around his fingers, your wetness dripping out of you. He worked you with a steady rhythm, savoring the delicious wet sounds of his fingers sliding in and out of you.

He sucked your clit furiously, his fingers fucking you with a brutal intensity. Your pussy began to spasm around his fingers, he knew you were close. He kept at his pace, wanting to push you to orgasm.

“That’s it, baby, cum for me.”

You began to pulse around his fingers, a small moan escaped your lips. He reveled in your orgasm. His cock leaked precum and twitched wildly. Nothing had ever gotten him this aroused.

He got up, dragging you head first to the edge of the bed, tilting your head back. He swiped his finger on your tongue, feeling the warmth of your mouth. He angled his cock to your lips and shoved himself down your throat.

He fucked your mouth aggressively, panting and swearing. You looked so pretty with his cock in your throat. He bucked his hips into your face, holding a hand to your neck, feeling his cock bulge in your throat.

He felt himself getting close, and pulled out. His breathing was ragged. He took a moment to collect himself before picking you up and laying you back down with your head on the pillow.

He climbed on top of you and kissed you deeply, hands fondling your breasts. He aligned his cock with your entrance and with a loud groan forced himself into you all the way to the hilt. The way your pussy gripped his cock was perfect.

-

Your eyes fluttered open, all you could see from the dim light of the bedside table lamp was a figure moving on top of you. As your eyes adjusted and you started to come back to reality it hit you just what was happening and who it was.

“FORD WHAT ARE YOU DOING?”

“Oh, you’re awake. I’m sorry but you passed out and you just looked so perfect that I had to have you.”

You desperately tried to free yourself from underneath him, you clawed at his arms. He took your wrists in his hands and pinned them down above your head.

“Don’t- ah, don’t struggle. I promise I’ll make you feel good.”

“Ford, stop. Please.” You cried.

“I can’t, nngh, you feel too good.”

He fucked you hard, pumping his thick cock into you. The slick, wet sounds filling the room. He forced his lips on yours and moaned into your mouth, his tongue shoving its way to the back of your throat.

You wrestled yourself out of his grip and pushed him off of you. You scrambled off of the bed and ran for your life for the door, but Ford was faster. He tackled you and pinned you to the floor.

“Baby please don’t make this, ugh, harder than it has to be.” He whispered into your ear as you fought back against him.

He pulled you to your feet and shoved you back down on the bed, pinning your wrists once more. He was going to finish what he started. He violently forced himself into you again, his rhythm punishing. He groaned loudly and bit your neck, you whimpered. His cock twitching at the noise.

He stopped for a second, reaching into the bedside drawer and pulled out a pair of handcuffs that he had stolen off a cop during a night of possession by Bill. He cuffed your hands above your head. His hand now free to travel south, making its way to your clit. He drew circles with his fingers while continuing to brutally fuck you, causing your pussy clench around his cock. The pleasure was indescribable, god he loved it.

You tried to struggle again, but Ford held you down by the waist with his free hand. His breathing quickened, he was close, you were too. He pounded you into the mattress, the bed frame shaking.

“Fuck you’re gonna make me cum, I need you to cum around my cock.”

His fingers didn’t let up, you felt yourself getting closer to the edge. You bit into his into his shoulder and felt the skin break, the sickly metallic taste of blood flooding your mouth. That was enough to send Ford over, he cocked his head back and his moan echoed throughout the cabin. You cried out as you came, tears welling in your eyes.

Ford shuddered and panted, he was spent. He rolled off of you and collapsed beside you. You laid there, shaking and crying. Ford took your face in his hand, wiping away the tears with his thumb.

“Shh shh shh, it’s okay, you’re okay.” He cooed. “Let me get those cuffs off of you.”

With a click of the little key your hands were released. You thought about using this as an opportunity to run, but you felt frozen. He kissed you lazily on your lips and neck, then he pulled you against his chest. His big calloused hands stroked your back. You felt strangely comforted, safe almost. You had always wanted this, to be wrapped in Ford’s arms.

Ford had desired you for so long, and now that he finally had you he wasn’t going to let you go.

[zepskies]

Echoes

Pairing: Beau Arlen x F. Reader 

Summary: Beau has another rough night, but you help him face a harder truth. 

AN: Yep, that’s right! I’m back with another little drabble for the Take Me Home series, set a while after S.I.N.G. This time, we’re in for some angst and comfort.

Word Count: 950 words

Tags/Warnings: Angst, PTSD, implied survivor’s guilt, hurt/comfort, fluff

Catch up on TMH: ⤵️

❤️ Take Me Home Masterlist

He heard it before he saw it.

That was the worst part of it really. He didn’t see it coming, even when he should have.

Randy hadn’t either.

Beau just saw the aftermath—a spray of scarlet that coated a stack of wooden crates carrying tens of thousands in cocaine. He saw the look of permanent shock frozen on Randy’s face as his body dropped to the concrete. It was a heavy sound. The sound of lifelessness.

The echoes of it rang in Beau’s ears, along with the single shot of a bullet tearing through his vest.

 Beau’s eyes opened on a sharp intake of breath.

They found darkness, and the familiar bedroom he shared with you. The only reason he could see it was because of the solitary window to his left, with slivers of moonlight filtering in between the blinds. He was lying on his back. His face, neck, arms, and bare chest were coated with a thin layer of sweat.

Turning his head to his right, he saw that you were still asleep. Your face was peaceful as you hugged your pillow. He was jealous.

Despite that, he resisted the urge to smooth a hand over your wild bedhead. He didn't want to chance waking you. Instead, he slowly got out of bed. He went into the bathroom to splash some cool water on his face. All the while, he ignored the shadows under his eyes, and the way his beard had gotten a bit scraggly. He’d trim in the morning.

He ventured into the living room and lit up the fireplace instead of turning any of the lights on. There he broke open the bottle of bourbon he kept above the fridge and grabbed a glass, and he sat in the middle of the couch, watching but not watching the fire.

His thoughts were like its flames, flickering from yellowed orange to sparking with red. Then back to yellow again.

Beau only perked up when he heard a floorboard creak. He saw you in the bedroom doorway, holding a fuzzy blanket around your shoulders. Your face was soft and concerned. He gave you a half-smile that didn’t reach his eyes as you drew near.

You were warmer than him when you sat down and wrapped your blanket around his frame from behind. He clasped your arm against his chest, and you laid your head on his shoulder.

“The same dream?” you asked. Your voice was hardly above a whisper in the quiet; the fire crackling was almost louder.

Beau paused, but he nodded. His lips raised humorlessly.

“Told you I wasn’t gonna be easy to live with,” he said, though he held your hand. “‘M sorry. Didn’t mean to wake you.”

You restrained a sigh and kissed his shoulder.

“Only a month in, but I think we’re doing well so far,” you said with a smile, even if it soon dipped. “You’ve been having nights like these even before you moved in.”

Again, he nodded and sipped at his glass.

“I know. I’m sorry,” he replied.

You shook your head. “It’s not your fault. But I’m going to say this again, because I love you. I really think you should try talking to someone.”

“Hey, I talk. Apparently I talk a bit too much, according to Jenny,” he managed to quip. He quirked a brow at you. “According to you too, I might add.”

You smiled in amusement, jostling him in your arms and disturbing the equilibrium of his bourbon.

“You know what I mean, Beau Arlen, and don’t pretend otherwise,” you warned him, but you paired it with a kiss to his scruffy cheek. “Therapy’s helped me a lot. I think it could do the same for you, with the right person… If you gave it a chance.”

Beau was quiet at that. Even though you understood his hesitation, it always hurt your heart to see him like this. You angled yourself toward him, so that he’d see your face and meet your eyes.

“You don’t have to do anything alone,” you said. They were words he’d told you too, more than once in the past year since you’d met him. “And I know I didn’t know Randy, but I doubt your friend would want you to suffer like this.”

Beau’s gaze fell away from yours then, drifting back to the fire. You brought him back by squeezing his free hand.

“Do you really think he’d want that for you?” you asked.

Beau couldn’t answer you in words; his throat was tight at the moment. His lips quirked, and he eventually nodded in understanding. He finished his glass before setting it down at the table. He could stop himself at the one for tonight, and that was a damn decent feat.

He leaned over and pressed a kiss to your forehead, a silent thanks and an acknowledgement all in one. Eventually, he was able to say it in words.

“Okay. I hear you,” he said.

You nodded with a sad smile. “Good.”

You curled yourself under his arm and sighed, resting at his side. Beau leaned you both back more comfortably on the couch. He allowed himself to let out a deep breath as well.

“Thanks,” he said.

“Mhmm,” you replied, even though your eyes were already closed. He knew then that you were halfway back to sleep. His lips tugged upward.

“I love you too, you know,” he added quietly.

“Mhmmmm,” you repeated, drawing it out more.

Beau’s smile became more genuine. Later he’d carry you back to bed, blanket and all. For now though, he made some small peace with his thoughts as he stared back into the fireplace.

This time, he actually felt its warmth.

AN: There we go, short and bittersweet. ❤️

Ko-Fi Me ☕

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[thevoidstaredback]

The tale tell signs of the Batmobile pulling into the Cave reverberated for nearl a minute before it even pulled into the garage. Once parked, the driver side door opened and NightBat (Nightwing as Batman) got out before closing the door.

"B!" Red Robin waved, "Welcome back! How'd it go?"

Not even surprised that Robin had gotten tired of babysitting the Leaguers, NightBat walked to join the group. "As usual. Batwoman could've handled herself."

Everyone on comms ignored the woman's indignant call from where she and Selina had joined Barbra and Jason in the Clocktower.

"Bats!" Green Lantern called, "You left us with Robin, right?"

"Mhmm."

"This isn't Robin! He says he's been here the whole time, but he hasn't because he's not Robin!"

NightBat was trying very hard to keep his amusement to himself. It didn't help that he had people laughing in his ear. He could tell RR and Spoiler were having the same issue. "Red Robin."

Green Lantern threw his hands in the air. "I give up!"

"Seriously, man," Spoiler said, concern lacing her tone, "If you're too paranoid or you aren't feeling too well, we can cut this short."

Wonder Woman glared at the man. "No, thank you, we are fine. You were showing us the med bay?"

"Right this way!" Red Robin guided them to the large room that wouldn't look out of place in a hospital. It was closer to looking like a mix between an ER, a Post OP, a Pre OP, and a waiting room. Somehow, it worked. Somehow, it was better than the one on the Watchtower.

Martian Manhunter took the lead in this room. "This is better equipped than the Watchtower's own medbay," he turned to NightBat, "Why is that?"

"Oh, oh!" Spoiler jumped in place, "I can answer that!" When everyone's attention was on her, she said, "It's because we're all human."

"Excuse me?" Superman quirked an eyebrow.

"Eloquently put, Spoiler," Robin smacked her arm, "Show a bit of decorum, will you? Honestly."

"Again?!" Green Lantern shreaked. He was ignored.

"It's true," she shrugged, "Anyway, I gotta bounce." She turned to jog out of the room, "It was nice meeting you all!" she shouted just as the door closed behind her. After a minute, the sound of her bike revving and fading told them all she had left.

The tour of the large med bay soon ended and Robin led the group back up to the smaller med bay. It was outfitted as a small clinic and not an ER, a few chairs being the only hint at a seating area. It was, like the larger one, also completely enclosed in bullet resistant glass.

Taking seats at the meeting table, none of the visiting Justice Leaguers noticed Signal taking his suit and leaving to finish Batwoman's and Catwoman's patrol, nor did they notice Cass sneaking Spoiler's suit back into its case before she took the stairs up to the Manor. Tim had also managed to put his suit back where it belonged before going back to the Manor with Cass.

Flash was the only one not sitting, having too much anxious energy to be able to sit still. So, he wandered around the upper area, careful not to touch anything. He was, however, looking very closely at everything. Something just felt...off. "Wait a minute," he stopped the small talk at the table, "Where did those books come from?"

"What are you talking about?" Green Arrow asked.

"The books, on the table! They weren't there when we got here!"

Robin made his judgement known from behind his mask. "There have always been books on this table, Flash."

"No, there haven't!"

"I think you should sit down," Superman stood to usher his fellow hero over to the chairs, "You're obviously anxious about something-"

Flash didn't let himself be touched, focusing on every little detail now. "And, the suits!" he ran down to the displays, "Two of the suits that were missing earlier are here now! And a different one is missing!"

Green Lantern and Aquaman jumped over the railing to join the Flash. "He's right," the Atlantian announced.

"What's going on here, Bats?" Green Arrow asked as he, too, jumped the railing.

Robin muttered, "We have stairs," under his breath as he followed the adults in jumping over the railing to the lower level.

"I have so many questions." Green Lantern added on.

Wonder Woman stood at the front of the group, "Why did you change your mind to invite us here?"

NightBat raised an eyebrow under the cowl. "I didn't. The others who operate in Gotham did. I just happen to be in charge."

"And how many people, exactly, operate in Gotham?" Superman asked.

Robin was the one to give a non-answer. "How many do you think?"

"This isn't funny, Bats," Cyborg glared. "What's going on."

NightBat said nothing. Instead, he turn away from the group with a swish of his cape and headed to the locker rooms next to the training area.

Now the only Gotham vigilante there, Robin was the focus of the JL's attention. Wonder Woman knelt in front of him to talk. "Will you tell us what's going on?"

Robin scoffed, crossed his arms, and tilted his head up to look down his nose at her. "Do not be so patronising. We invited you here to prove that we do, in fact, trust you all, and you have accused us of trying to trick you?" He expertly hid his satisfaction at the guilt that took over the adults' faces. "Perhaps we should not have let you come here." He turn with just as much dramatics as both Batman and Nightwing. "Come, I'll-"

"What're you all still doing here?" Batman glared as he came out from the locker rooms, several things in hand.

"I was just showing them to the Zeta Tubes." Robin answered.

"Hn." Batman grunted, walking back to the upper level first. The visiting heroes followed him sullenly. Robin took up the rear. Nightwing chose that moment to ride back into the Cave.

"Where you all going?" He called from the garage as he parked his bike.

"Robin was just showing them out," Batman didn't raise his voice above what it normally was, even as he walked away from everyone and into the less echo-y chamber of the lab.

Nightwing pouted. "Boo," He was quick to join them on the upper level. "Why don't you pack it in for the night, Baby Bat? I'll take these guys home." His wink to the adultier adults was not hidden by his mask. How does he do that?

Robin nodded. "Very well." He promptly turned and left for the locker rooms.

"C'mon," Nightwing ushered, "B's run outta patience. I'm glad he lasted this long, though! It took forever to get him to let me and Robin show you around! And, when Spoiler heard we had company, she just had to come say 'hi'. Though, I'm sad you couldn't meet Agent A or O or Signal."

"Who?" Superman asked.

Nightwing laughed, the sound echoing in the Zeta Room. "Agent A's the one who makes sure we're all still alive at the end of the day. O is our eye in the sky, our ear to the ground, our guy in the chair. She knows everything. Nothing happens in Gotham without her knowing. And Signal is our newest addition. He's the only meta allowed to operate in the city, proven by the bat on his costume. He's our daytime hero, though, so he's out on patrol right now. A shame you couldn't meet him."

"And Batwoman?" Wonder Woman mentioned as she stepped up to the Zeta Tubes.

"Who?" Nightwing joked. The others didn't find it amusing. "Tough crowd," he mumbled. "Batwoman doesn't normally work with us. She's B's cousin. She's usually with the Birds of Prey, but she decided to come help us out for a bit."

"Birds of Prey?" Flash wondered.

"A story for another time, I'm afraid," Nightwing sighed, "The Zeta's are all set for the Watchtower. It was nice having you guys here, even though I had to leave so soon after you get here."

Cyborg patted his shoulder. "It's alright, shit happens. Is everyone at the bank alright?"

Nightwing nodded, "Yeah, no one got hurt."

"That's good."

With the final word said, the eight visiting heroes left Gotham. Nightwing was careful as he left, resetting the traps and security measures.

"And that's a wrap!" Jason called over comms.

Barbra took over just long enough to say, "Movie night at Wayne Manor!" before Selina cut everyone's comms.

Part 6 Part 8

[harryslittlefreakk]

to build a home

Summary: buzz cut!rry and y/n spend their first new year’s together after splitting up and they look back on happier times. inspired by the song!

Warnings: sad!rry 🥲 fluff, smut

A/n: a little new year’s drabble !! wishing everybody happiness and love for the year ahead 💖

you can join my general taglist here!

and find the rest of my writing here 🫶🏼 enjoy!

Harry had been here countless times before, though this was one of his first times as a guest. He reached inside his pocket for his keys instinctively, muscle memory from all the times he’d slumped through the door after a long day at work, all the times he’d stumbled inside with one hand wandering all over your body. But now he was standing on the doorstep, cold and nervous with one hand gripping onto a key ring that no longer held a key to your home.

He could hear the bustle of a party inside, the low beat of music echoing from the sound system he’d chosen. Every inch of the house, even from the outside, had traces of both you and him written into the walls. The only thing that was all you was the ‘for sale’ sign posted at the end of the driveway.

He remembered the day you’d spotted the house, the slim building covered in climbing wisteria, squealing from across the road as you pointed out the ‘for sale’ sign. You’d been walking back to the car after viewing a different house, desperately trying to find somewhere to make a home together. He’d called to enquire about the house as you stood there pinned to his side, imagining what you could do with all the different rooms. You’d moved in only a few months later, renovating the house together through the lonely months of the pandemic, spending your days covered in dust and paint but never feeling happier.

Harry bit the bullet and rang your doorbell, fingers clenched tightly around the neck of the bottle you bought. He watched for movement through the frosted door, shifting awkwardly as he ran a hand through what was left of his hair. He’d shaved it on a whim, too many rom-coms telling him you needed to do something drastic after a breakup, and since he already had tattoos, a haircut was the only possible solution.

“Hey, Harry,” you smiled, cheeks already stained pink from the alcohol. He knew you well enough to know you liked a few glasses while cooking, a final one as you finished setting up the drinks and nibbles, and a bottle or two as you danced with friends. You looked beautiful, one of his old band t-shirts tucked into a sparkly silver skirt, waved hair draped around your shoulders. Harry leaned in to give you a kiss on the cheek, holding out the champagne bottle in his hand with an awkward smile. “S’for you,” he told you, shuffling into the doorway. He kicked off his shoes, eyes glued to the floor as he followed you into the living room. Too uncomfortable to acknowledge that he knew this house like the back of his hand, somewhat too proud to remember all the times you’d snuggled together on the sofa his friends were now sitting on. You stopped suddenly, swivelling to look back at him with parted lips. “Your hair,” you gasped, instinctively reaching out a hand to touch it. It snapped back to your side, your heart in your throat as you apologised. “Sorry, I-”

“Just fancied a change,” Harry told you, rubbing his hand across the top. You plastered a grin back onto your face, turning back on your heel wordlessly as your friends stood to greet him. You’d decided to stay civil for them, for the sake of keeping the peace within the group you’d grown close to together throughout your years as a couple. You hadn’t ended on bad terms, merely a result of wanting different things from your life. Harry’s priority had always been his music, and as much as he loved you, you both knew he couldn’t resist the offer of a new tour or new shows halfway across the world. You wanted a family, your uninterrupted time together during the pandemic leaving you wanting more. He wanted a family too, but you knew the majority of the parenting would fall on you while he was out doing what he loved, and somewhat selfishly, that wasn’t the life you wanted. These were all things you’d known when your relationship became serious, but you’d foolishly believed he’d change. You never wanted to change him, never wanted to take away his love of performing, but you needed him to be more present. Sleeping on a tour bus and following your love around the world was fun, but it wasn’t a lifestyle you could keep up forever.

Harry gazed around the room as he spoke with Mitch and Sarah, a glass of whiskey cradled in his hands. It hadn’t changed at all since the morning he’d moved out, framed pictures of the two of you still littered across the shelves. His awards still sat on the bookcase, shiny and void of dust as if they were your prized possessions. It sent a chill through him, to be sat here smiling in the house he’d bought for you, unchanged except for the lack of him. He was heartbroken and yet relieved when you told him you wanted to sell the house, the idea of different men one day sleeping in his bed too much to bear. He stood up suddenly, excusing himself from the conversation and padded over towards the back door, fingers tracing across the edge of the dining table as he walked through. You watched him go, slipping away to follow him as your guests continued to talk and dance.

Harry was perched on the steps of your patio, eyes wandering across the dark night sky. He glanced over at you as you plopped down next to him, scooting over slightly to give you more space. “How did we get here?” he murmured, swilling the liquor around the walls of his glass - something, anything to distract from the tears forming in his eyes. You sighed, placing a gentle hand on his thigh. “I’m a guest in my own house.”

“Harry-” you started, eyes trailing across his face. “I was meant to be enough for you, I wanted to be enough for you.” He turned to face you, green eyes glistening in the moonlight. “You’re everything, H. I just needed a little more,” you told him, resting your head against his shoulder.

“If I was everything I wouldn’t be living in a rented apartment on the other side of the city.”

“I know, I know,” you whispered, choking back the start of tears. “I miss you every day Harry,” you confessed, words barely coherent between sobs. He wrapped an arm around you, his owns tears spilling out from heavy-lidded eyes. “I love you,” he told you, thumb rubbing delicately across your back. You stayed that way for a while, drinking in the silence around you both, hurt lingering in the air.

“It’s nearly midnight,” Sarah called out from the door, bringing you back to reality. Youd been sat there in dead silence for over half an hour, an unspoken conversation echoing around your minds. Harry tapped his hand against your back, sniffing away the last of any long-dried tears as he stood up. You turned to watch him slip past Sarah’s petite frame as she padded over to pull you to your feet, draping an arm over your shoulder as you walked back through the house. “Ok?” she asked, slipping a glass of prosecco into your hands as you rejoined the group. You’d set up the projector earlier ready to display the new year’s countdown and fireworks. You clicked it on just before the huge ‘10’ flashed across the living rooms bare wall, purposely left that way for when you and Harry wanted to cuddle and watch films in the late evenings.

Your friends shouted every number excitedly, party poppers and kazoos ready to blow as the clock struck midnight. Everyone shifted around to cuddle up in their couples, arms wrapped around each other ready for their new year’s kiss, leaving only you and Harry stood on your own, feet away from each other where usually you’d be pressing drunken kisses to each other’s mouths before the countdown even finished. Your heart was pounding in your chest as the numbers got lower. 2024 would be the first year you started without Harry in half a decade.

3

He yanked on your hand, pulling you into his side

2

He smiled down at you, wrapping an arm around your waist

1

He cupped your cheek with his cold hand, leaving you staring up at him with parted lips

Happy New Year

Echoed around the room as he dove towards you, lips crashing against your mouth. It was hard but gentle, soft yet deep, his mouth immediately melding with yours in a heartbreakingly familiar way.

“For old times sake,” he whispered, eyes glinting as he pulled away. You were speechless still, his kiss saying so much and yet not enough. “Harry,” you whispered, tugging him closer to you. Here, buried into his chest, feeling the same old little butterflies flit in your stomach, you were happier than you’d been in months.

Harry lingered in the kitchen as the last of your friends filtered out, scrubbing at dishes in the kitchen sink, nervous hands needing to find something to do. He heard the front door click shut, followed by the sound of your bare feet padding across the wooden floors, stopping behind him. He turned around to see you leaned up against the dining table, watching him. “You don’t need to do that, H,” you murmured, rim of a wine glass pressed against your mouth. “Wanted to,” he smiled, placing the last plate onto the drying rack and drying his hands on his trousers. He stalked towards you, grazing the back of his hand over your blushed cheek. “Stay here tonight,” you told him, the alcohol adding an over-confident edge to your nervousness.

He picked you up, just high enough to sit you down on the edge of the table, green eyes trailing over your face as you stared back at him, eyes wide and cheeks warm. His gaze was dark, caught somewhere between pain and lust. They dragged across your face, again and again, searching for any sign hesitance or doubt. When you didn’t flinch under his stare, his lips found yours again. Soft at first, tongue nudging delicately at your teeth for permission to lick into your mouth, your hands instinctively reaching up to tangle in his hair. You chuckled against his lips as you felt nothing to grab onto, hand instead splayed across the tickle of his stubbly head.

He pulled back for a second, leaning behind you to clear a space at the end of the table before guiding your torso back until your back was flush with the wood. His hands shoved your skirt up around your waist, mouth peppering gentle kisses up and down your thighs. His touch felt so foreign, yet so much like home. He was so gentle with you now, not able to throw you around like he used to. Every move was tentative, careful not to push you too far, as if he ever could.

Harry hooked a finger under the band your pants, the tip of him grazing over your folds. He held them to the side with one hand, head lazing against your thigh as he looked over your pussy, groaning at the sight he’d longed for every day you’d been apart. He’d always craved you, just needing a little touch or taste to get through the day, or celebrate the end of a long one. He pressed a kiss into your entrance, true affection coursing through his bones. His tongue darted out, almost involuntarily, licking a stripe along your centre, then pausing to see how you’d react. When your hips bucked into him, impatient and starved of his touch for too long, he began to lick and lap at you, murmuring contently as he tasted your sweet juices on his tongue. He moved slow but with purpose, savouring the moment rather than chasing after your high as he used to. You’d never think having someone’s head between your thighs could be romantic, but this was about as romantic and loving as it could be. He was licking into you with care and attention, smirking against your folds as you writhed around, constantly trying to grab at his non-existent hair. The stubble was tickling your inner thighs as he moved, something you were used to from his chin but it felt better now. He was different, changed since you last saw him, and yet still the same perfect man.

He slipped a digit inside of you, pulling the thoughts from your mind as he began pushing into your sweet spot, tongue fucking into you simultaneously. He’d usually be spilling out obscenity by now, rasping against your folds in the way he knew you loved. But like this, silent except for the tiny moans and groans emitted from you both, you felt reborn. Approaching everything differently, vulnerable to each other’s wants and needs. His lips wrapped around your clit, feeling your legs beginning to shake beneath him and knowing you needed that one final push. Your orgasm washed over you quickly, back arching off the table as your juices ran down his hand. It was so simple, so easy and still perfect. “Happy new year,” he whispered, pressing a kiss onto your mound as he finally came up for air.

taglist: @sleutherclaw @slutforcoffein @harrysolaf @opheliaofficial07 @dragonslayersupremacy @nikkisimps @michellekstyles @im-an-overthinker @fangirl7060 @indierockgirrl @palmettogal508 @thereunion1d @angstygyal @hannah9921 @he6rtshaker

[osggroup]

OSG

We develop and supply glass-based solutions for transportation, defense and security, and for a broad range of special applications. We are experts in all areas of glass design and processing. We also offer heated glass, switchable smart glass and glass-embedding of cutting-edge technologies including screens and NFC chips.

[mistydeyes]

141 and what their patient file looks like

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summary: This is what I imagine everyone's favorite pharmacist as well as medics see when they look at 141's medical file.

Based on this pharmacist and 141 interactions

pairing: Task Force 141 x pharmacist!Reader

warnings: medical/pharmacy terminology, medical inaccuracies, swearing, depiction of wounds, mention of substance use disorder and abuse

Terms

PMH - Past medical history - the total sum of a patient's health status prior to the presenting problem

FH - Family history - contributing family history, generally parents and siblings

SH - Social history - contributing social behavior and routine

a/n: not canon at all! this is just a reference for me

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Price

PMH

Height: 1.88 m (6' 2'')

Weight: 93 kg (205 lbs)

Blood type: O+

Extensive physical injuries

21+ stab wounds - 2 required antibiotics for recurrent infection

9x bullet wound - 5x in the extremities, 4x in the chest (no perforation of vital organs), healed without complication

5x abrasion collar - 1 near right eyebrow became infected following medical eval and stitches

3x diagnosed concussion

Aspirin-sensitivity

Previously evaluated for tinnitus and hearing loss

FH

Father - deceased at 76 from liver disease - 50 pack years, mycardial infarction (x2)

Mother - deceased at 84 due to chronic heart failure (CHF) -Glaucoma, asthma, CHF

Sister - Sports induced asthma, hypothyroidism

Negative family history of diabetes, hypertension, and cancer

SH

Smokes - 30 pack years

Drinks regularly - 4-5 hard liquor each weekend; 1 glass of whiskey occasionally

Physically active - Enjoys recreational activities such as hiking, swimming, and biking

Has 1 dog, currently under the care of pt's younger sister

History of monogynous long term relationships, currently single

Medication list + indications

Amoxicillin/Clavulanic acid 625mg - Infection

Morphine 15mg + Ketamine 3mg - IV - Pain

Paracetamol 750mg - Pain

Buproprion SR 150mg - Smoking cessation - not-taking est 2004

Allergies

Aspirin allergy - Reaction: hives and asthma - ONLY PRESCRIBE PARACETAMOL

No environmental, food, or animal allergies

Notes

Patient has denied smoking cessation options

Soap

PMH

Height: 1.88 m (6' 2'')

Weight: 91 kg (200 lbs)

Blood type: O+

7x stab wound - 6 required antibiotics for recurrent infection, 2 MRSA resistant

2x bullet wound - 2x in lower extremities, healed with no complication

6x abrasion collar

2x broken collar bone - healed, with no complication

Lactose sensitivity - Recurrent IBS if ingested

Chipped first left molar following opening a beer with teeth

FH

Father deceased at 68 due to heart failure - Type 2 Diabetes Mellitus, high cholesterol

Mother - Stage I HTN (hypertension)

Sister #1 - Postpartum depression, generalized anxiety disorder

Sister #2 - Elevated cholesterol/triglycerides

Brother - No known chronic health issues

Positive family history of diabetes and hypertension, but no cancer

SH

Drinks regularly and heavily - 8-12 beers and 2-3 glasses of hard liquor each weekend; 1 glass of scotch occasionally

Smokes socially - 5 pack years

Physically active

Close relationship with family, has 4 dogs at home under the care of pt's mothers

Avid fan of The Glasgow Football Club

Medication list + indications

Clindamycin 300mg with ciprofloxacin 400mg - Infection

Amoxicillin/Clauvanic acid 625mg - Infection

Vancomycin 18mg/kg - MRSA resistant infection

Paracetamol 500mg - Pain

Morphine 15mg IV - Pain

Doxycycline 100mg - Acne discontinued in 2004

Allergies

Insect stings - Observed anaphylaxis to childhood bee sting

Notes

Patient demonstrates medication non-adherence, counsel ESPECIALLY with antibiotics

Scored 6 on Alcohol use disorders identification test for consumption (AUDIT C)

Gaz

PMH

Height: 1.86 m (6' 1'')

Weight: 93 kg (205 lbs)

Blood type: B-

3x stab wound - healed, no complications

1x broken collar bone

2x broken femur

Diagnosed concussion - evaluated in Oct. '19

FH

Father - Type 1 Diabetes, high cholesterol

Mother - Vitiligo, Stage 3 breast cancer

Positive family history of maternal cancer and diabetes, but no hypertension

SH

Social drinker - 3-4 beers each weekend

Does not smoke

Physically active - Enjoys morning and evening runs

Enjoys spicy food and tries to introduce into diet

When on leave, enjoys attending concerts and music festivals

Medication list + indications

Piriteze 10mg - Allergic rhinitis

Fluticasone Propionate - 93 mcg/actuation - Allergic rhinitis

Paracetamol 500mg - Pain

Allergies

Seasonal - Pollen and pet dander

β-Lactam allergy - Reaction: anaphylaxis evaluated in '19

Notes

Organ donor

Ghost

PMH

Height: Weight: 1.93 m (6' 4'')

WeighT: 100 kg (220 lbs)

Blood type: AB-

Extensive cuts and scarring to entire body

4+ stab wounds - healed, no complications

Gun shot to lower abdomen - healed, no complications, evaluated in Nov. '22

13+ collar abrasion

2x broken nose

Childhood injury of broken tibia and large toe

Psych eval - History of depression and post traumatic stress disorder, childhood history indicates emotional and physical abuse

FH

Father - status unknown Diagnosed alcohol use disorder

Brother - deceased, cause of death non-contributory - Substance use disorder

Mother - deceased, cause of death non-contributory - Hypertension, thrombophilia (blood clotting disorder)

Positive family history of hypertension, but no diabetes or cancer

SH

Social drinker - 3-4 glasses of hard liquor each weekend

Smokes socially - 10 pack years

Physically active - Enjoys nightly walks

Psych eval - Other squad members act as his emotional support

Expressed interest in cats and tattoo art (FLAGGED: Further input and comments from other medical professionals would be appreciated)

Medication list + indications

Paracetamol 1000mg - Pain

Amoxicillin/Clavulanic acid 625mg - Infection

Morphine 20mg + Ketamine 4.5mg IV - Pain

Mafenide acetate 5% topical - Antimicrobial, burn wounds

Fluoxetine 20mg twice daily - Depression - not taking est 2001

Allergies

NKDA - No known drug allergies

No environmental, food, or animal allergies

Psych recommends evaluation of a pet, such as cat, for pt while on leave

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[alicerosejensen]

No time to die

Warning: Death of the reader; injuries; mention of blood; implied parting with Leon; Old leon; Fem!reader

Synopsis: he should have decided on his feelings before telling you about love. He should be taking care of you instead of running after Ada again, but now he will have enough time for this activity.

A/N: Sometimes I write about Leon's slippery ass. Well, I really had disturbing thoughts again.

If you were given a choice on whose hands to spend the last minutes of your life, you would never have chosen the hands of Leon S Kennedy.

In fact, you would rather lie in a pool of your own blood, moving away from him as far as possible, leaving dark scarlet streaks behind you, than let him help you. After all, despite all his love for this man, he caused you a very strong pain. Even stronger than what you feel now, when you try to get to your feet leaning on torn palms, spitting out a thick foam of blood.

Well, ordinary civilians can hardly resist a giant bioweapon that has crushed a bunch of people like bugs up to this point, but if Ada Wong was only slightly knocked down by a blow, which caused her to lose consciousness for a while, then you were thrown with such force that the organs inside seem to have turned into porridge.

But at that moment you didn't care anymore. The pain pierced every cell of your body and the only desire in your head was just to hide from it somewhere. Leon and his endless love for Ada didn't care anymore, but this pain will always remain in your heart. After all, he came to her aid and not to you.

You started coughing up blood. From every breath it became increasingly unbearable to breathe, and then you lost that fragile balance that you found for a couple of short seconds, collapsing on shards of glass that crumbled under your weight. Everything swam before your eyes. You didn't have the strength to curse anyone because all you wanted was not hugs and a declaration of love, but for this painful hell to end faster! A grunt escaped from your throat when someone tried to turn your body over and provide first aid, but only blood splattered out of your mouth.

"God," Leon's partner looked at you with big frightened eyes, trying to think of something, but stopped when you gathered the remnants of your strength and grabbed her hand, looking at the gun in her holster.

The last mercy for the dying.

"Please..." your hoarse, very quiet whisper begged Helena to "finish it"

Tears flowed from red eyes mixing with the blood that was on your face. From this pain, the vessels in your eyes burst and it seems that the only way out was a kind of voluntary euthanasia by a bullet in the head and not waiting for your body to stop fighting death before the damaged organs stop working themselves.

And then Helena's loud voice was heard calling Leon to finally break away from his beloved and pay attention to the dying you. If your condition were better, you would spit this very blood in his face. However, he really ran up to you after a couple of seconds, laying you on his lap, trying to do everything carefully so as not to cause additional pain. You didn't really want to spit, but you accidentally soiled his face when he stroked your hair.

Crimson thin rivulets slowly poured out of your nose and you closed your eyes a little at a new outbreak of suffocating pain that filled your whole body reflexively clinging to Leon's hand. His skin showed signs of broken nails, but he didn't seem to mind. It was unbearable for you to take even a small breath; even one attempt was accompanied by a bloody, foamy, painful cough at the edge of your mouth. It was like Hell.

Leon seemed to be looking for something that could help you, delay death, but Helena already understood everything. Anyone who saw you would understand that the injuries you received were not compatible with life.

“Please don’t...please,” Leon muttered, trying to stop the scarlet stain spreading under your chest. “Baby, I know, I know it hurts, but be patient.”

“Leon...” his partner called quietly, hinting that it was pointless.

And at some point you noticed Ada looking at you without pity, without disgust, without any other emotions. Just another corpse that crossed their path. Wong only had a couple of scratches. She did not writhe in agony and Leon would quickly find solace in her immediately after your death, this thought made your body gather its last strength and with a tearing cough look at the man in front of you, in whose eyes you could see fear for your life. On your last breath, you decided to hurt him before you die, as punishment for what he did to your heart, crushing it like a paper ball, and then tearing it apart, throwing you pathetic scraps... Well, that's how you saw it.

Leon caught that look, something in it even scared him, but your next words, which were the last, were forever imprinted in his memory and on his heart. Because you knew how painfully he endures the fact that someone hates him. You pulled your hand out of his and with hatred hissed something that was not even true in essence. It's just that at this very moment you wanted him to understand what pain he caused you with his love for Ada Wong.

"I... ha-te... you"

Everything inside Leon snapped in the same second. His love for Ada has remained a pain in your heart, but... the same pain will remain in him. The last breath, and your eyes, which he loved so much, glazed over, and your mouth remained slightly ajar. Ada... she didn't say anything, but was she surprised? Leon grabbed your hand again, trying to feel at least a weak pulse, but the words you said were pounding in his head, making tears flow from his eyes.

"No," he whispered softly, unable to believe what was happening. You couldn't die in his arms like that and you couldn't say those words. You had no reason to say those words to him! "Come on, look at me, I'll take you to a safe place. They will help you"

Helena put her hand on his shoulder, realizing how it hurt him in the end. He doesn't even have the opportunity to leave your body in a safe place and all he and Ada could do was watch him stroke your cheek with one hand holding your shoulders. The pose is exactly similar to when he defended Ada in China, only she was able to survive and you unfortunately did not.

"It's not your fault... no one is to blame for her death," Ada only said. She felt sorry for him " And her words... Leon..."

"She was not herself," Helena picked up, looking at Leon silently

Ada at some point correctly decided that it was out of jealousy. Just the last time to prick a loved one knowing that he will keep these words to himself for a long time. But they didn't have time for mourning and tears, however, even she didn't have the tongue to tell Leon to leave you here. So she just asked for his jacket and wrapped you in it, believing that you really would like it - to be enveloped in the fragrance of a loved one before death.

now was simply not the time and place to grieve, but even she did not understand the meaning of the words you said. After all, Leon really left her for you. Ada couldn't give him the stability and love he needed. Their complicated relationship hurt Leon in a way, but with you he became a normal person. She understood this, so she calmly retreated, because neither he nor she had ever felt sincere love for each other. Leon found this bright feeling in you by breaking off even short dates with her forever, and all Ada could do was really help him later.

Your death was committed out of place and all three of them understood that from Leon now only the shadow of the former man will remain and he himself will wallow in alcohol constantly replaying your dying words on repeat.

You really shouldn't have told him that.

[storiesofsvu]

Decadent Desires Ch 2

Future Emily Prentiss x reader Warnings: language, alcohol consumption, sexual situations alluded to. Okay y'all were super interactive on the first chapter so I figured I'd give you an early chapter as a treat. Lol.

A full week had passed, another one full of overbearing work, handling the slight squabbling from the team while also dealing with constant badgering from the higher ups and Emily was over it. She scooped the final bite of linguine out of the pan, chewing it down while she moved the dish into the dishwasher thankful at least that she didn’t have to hand wash things tonight. It had been an annoying week and the bottle of wine on the counter had been calling her name since about two in the afternoon, the thought of an orgasm to relieve some stress on her mind from the moment she got home. However it wasn’t close enough to shower or bed time yet so the wine would have to do for now.

Emily refilled her glass, picked up her phone and opened the door to the patio, figuring at the very least she could enjoy the warm evening and actually get some fresh air after being cooped up in the office all week. Settling into one of the chairs she swiped open her phone and immediately had to resist the temptation to check her email, reminding herself she wouldn’t be so frustrated if she left work at work unless it was completely urgent. So she scrolled through a couple of social media apps, wasting time looking at pictures posted by friends, which in turn made her feel even more like she was missing out on something. She closed Instagram and her thumb hovered over the screen while she tried to figure out what to doom-scroll on next, finding herself staring at the little red apps Heather had installed. She took a breath, a large sip of wine and bit the bullet, opening the first one and she was pleasantly surprised she could scroll through a handful of profiles without setting one up for herself first.

‘Caitlin. 21.’

“Okay well you’re barely legal.” Emily muttered to herself, scrolling down further.

‘Steven. 32.’

A better age, but still a step in the wrong direction.

‘Kyla. 38.’

Better. But she could only see the main picture, age and location. Pulling her lip into her mouth she flicked around through a couple of pages until she found the how to tips and realized she would have to make a profile after all, even if it was just to see more information. She let out a huff, closing the app, hesitating only a minute before she opened up her text conversation with Heather.

‘Are you SURE this is a good idea?’

Her phone buzzed only a few seconds later.

‘The apps are fine. I’m assuming you haven’t even made a profile yet and it’s just pushing out what it thinks people want to see. You can curate your own experience once you put in your preferences.’

‘And if it still sucks?’

‘Oh come on, what’s the harm in one date? At the very least it’ll keep you entertained.’

‘Who said I’m not entertained?’

‘It’s Friday night and you’re texting me instead of being out somewhere.’

‘And you’re answering.’

‘I’m waiting for Rob to pull the car around; you just caught me at a convenient time.’  ‘Make a profile. There’s no harm in seeing what’s out there. You can blame me if it’s terrible.’

‘Add on a free lunch.’

‘Tell you what, this doesn’t work, I’ll bump it up to dinner and show you a couple of the discreet clubs around the city.’

‘Mark me down as intrigued. Deal.’

Emily let out a huff, swigging back a mouthful of wine before finally reopening the first app to start to put together her own profile. Maybe there really was a chance that this could work out.

*

Carly. 35.

Emily was almost late, one work call turning into another, turning into getting put on hold meant she didn’t have time to go change after work, arriving at Smoke and Mirrors still in her business casual. She was just in the nick of time and instantly found her date nestled into a cozy table on the patio overlooking the river, martini already in front of her.

It wasn’t necessarily that she slipped back into work mode, but her job did help her meet and interact with new people on a regular basis fairly easily. A warm smile and greeting, unsure how awkward something like a handshake would be considering the situation. A few rounds of drinks, a couple of split appetizers, and a decent enough time. While Carly could hold a perfectly good conversation and Emily could see them perhaps being friendly in the future, it wasn’t the right vibe. It certainly wasn’t helping that Emily could practically feel every set of eyes in the lounge on them throughout the night and that you didn’t have to be a profiler to put it together what kind of a situation was going on. It made Emily uncomfortable, like everyone was judging them, more specifically, her. If the two of them had been more friendly to each other right off the bat you might have been able to tell that it wasn’t a date, that they were colleagues or friends but that simply wasn’t the case. Her mind wandered to the thought that there was someone in the room that likely just assumed they were mother, daughter and that made her skin absolutely crawl and instantly ask if they could get the check. She at least felt a little bit better when Carly offered to split it, offering her a small smile that meant she was about on the same page.  

*

Alice. 36.

This time Emily gave herself more than enough time to get home, have a glass of wine to help her relax and change into something more date appropriate. Alice had recommended Fiola and Emily had simply gone along with it, not realizing just how high end it actually was, her eyes widening at the fact that a single cocktail could set you back twenty-five to almost thirty dollars much less the food menu. At the very least, it seemed like the restaurant’s lounge was the place to be for date night on a Thursday, couples scattered throughout the place in various levels of dress. She noticed something on the menu advertising it being the place to be prior to theatre events and their server asked if they were attending a show tonight.

Emily had a little bit more faith in this one, feeling more comfortable considering the setting, actually relaxing as she laughed over her very expensive drink. It didn’t take long for the conversation to roll around to what one did when not out on the town and she let it slip that she worked for the government, a few more carefully worded questions and Alice had enough to figure out she was a fed, excusing herself to use the bathroom. When the room started to clear and Emily realized the other woman’s purse was gone from the back of her chair she let out a soft groan, realizing she was definitely stuck with the pricey cheque.

*

Lily 31.

Emily knew going in this one could be risky based off age alone. Lily’s profile seemed like she did this full time and she already wasn’t sure about things by the time she set foot into 1798. Her suspicions were confirmed when her phone went off with an urgent call she had to take, letting out a sigh as she returned to the table explaining that she had to leave for work and likely wouldn’t be back for a few days at least. In return Lily let out a huff and a whine like she was a toddler, crossing her arms over her chest and demanded that Emily pay for a three course dinner and send her roses each day she was going to be gone since she had wasted her time. Emily outwardly laughed, saying drinks were the only thing she’d even agreed to have, much less pay for and left as fast as she came in.

*

Kimberly. 39.

This one got postponed immediately as a case kept them out of town longer than anticipated. They were still only chatting back and fourth on the app and Emily was venting about being the one in charge and how her team were agents and you’d think they could handle certain things themselves but apparently not. She woke up the next morning to find a couple of messages that insinuated Kimberly might have been doing other things for money that weren’t exactly legal and thought it wasn’t a good idea to get involved with a cop. After Emily sent a reply agreeing, the match disappeared.

*

Emma. 34.

This one started off slow, a match, Emily shot off a message and waited a while to hear back. She was pleasantly surprised when her phone pinged with the reply she’d been hoping to get for a few days. They got along wonderfully, everything seemed to be falling right into place, their opinions, expectations, they shared a handful of the same favourite movies, foods, for once it seemed like things would be perfect. Emily opened the app when she got home from work that night to ask her out for drinks that weekend to find that she’d been completely ghosted, unmatched and no way to find Emma again.

*

Kori. 40.

The second match that had gone off without a hitch and a plan to meet at Blue Duck Tavern that coming Thursday night. Emily arrived a little bit early thanks to a complete lack of traffic and figured she would just grab a drink at the bar while waiting. You could only imagine her confusion when she was tapped on the shoulder and turned around to see an older than middle aged man with a timid smile introducing himself, apologizing that he didn’t look like his pictures.

That one earned an eye roll and a ‘yeah, right’ before Emily was heading for the door.

*

The week had finally come to a close and Emily had dismissed the BAU shortly after lunch, telling the team to get out of there while they still had the chance and everyone was quick to leave the building, herself included. Construction rerouted her normal commute home and when she ended up in the same neighbourhood as Heather’s office her mind wandered back to how unsuccessful her past two weeks had been and before she even really realized it, she was pulling into the parking lot.

“I’m being serious Heather, it’s fucking terrible.” She groaned, dropping down into a chair across from the other woman’s desk. “This is almost as bad as dating men was.”

“From what I heard some of them are men.” Heather replied with a tease and Emily shot her a glare.

“I just thought this would be easier.”

“Finding the right fit is the hard part, it’ll smooth over once you do.” Heather flipped the book in front of her closed, standing from her chair and crossing over to the liquor cart, filling up two glasses of scotch.

“I didn’t want to deal with the hard part though.” Emily continued to mope, thanking her for the glass.

“Drink. You’re too pent up.” She settled back at her desk, “you really do need to get laid.”

“Don’t you think I’m trying!?” She sucked back a mouthful of the liquor, stewing in her thoughts for a moment. “Please tell me you’re having more success in this than I am, how’s your bartender doing?”

“Are you kidding?” Heather laughed, “you saw her. She’s practically pathetic. She was pretty enough, but my god the level of insecurity? The constant whining and worrying? Don’t get me wrong, I love a good brat but there was no way she wouldn’t have been crying on my doorstep begging me to leave my husband in a week’s time.”

“Have you had that happen before?” Her eyes widened at the sheer thought of it as Heather nodded.

“Best piece of advice I can give you, don’t let them know where you live. Stick to hotels.”

“Noted.”

“What are you having the biggest trouble with? Maybe I can help.”

Emily sighed softly, swirling her cup as she stared into it, sorting through the string of failed dates, “honestly I don’t even know. Maybe I just need to play around with the age range…. Would probably help to bump it up a little it.”

“Anything under thirty-five does usually end up getting messy.”

“I want someone who has their life a little bit more put together; you know?”

“Mmhmm.” Heather replied over the rim of her drink, “you need to make sure that this isn’t their only source of income, that they have something else going on to fill their time and bank account up. Maybe someone who has an actual partner.”

“I don’t know about that.” Her nose crinkled, “would feel wrong. But someone who has a full time job and wouldn’t be completely dependant on me certainly would be nice. I don’t have the time or energy for that.”

“You need a gorgeous, ambitious girl who knows how to be discreet in public and likes get her brains fucked out in private.”

“Exactly.” She laughed, taking another sip of her drink as Heather tilted her phone screen towards her, hitting a couple of buttons before returning her attention to the other woman, “you know, if you ever think of changing career paths…”

“Become a matchmaker for sugar babies?” She chuckled, “there would likely be a market for that, maybe after retirement.”

Emily laughed, shaking her head as she watched the wheels start turning in the other woman’s head. She heard a brief knock on the door behind her before it swung open,

“I didn’t realize you needed this by the end of the day, sorry.” You swung through the office, coming to perch on the side of Heather’s desk as you handed her the file.

“It’s alright, it slipped my mind too.” Heather replied as she opened the file, skimming through it.

Her eyes flicked over to Emily briefly, watching the way her gaze drifted from the designer heels on your feet all the way to the necklace laying against your collarbone. You were dressed professionally yet incredibly stylish, dark pencil skirt, a peach sleeveless blouse tucked into it, blazer no doubt laying over the back of your desk chair. A delicate silver watch around one wrist, perfectly manicured nails and eyes that were suddenly set on her.

“Hi, sorry to interrupt. You’re FBI, right? Prentiss?” Your words jolted her out of her trance and she caught herself scrambling over the fact that you knew her name, wondering if she’d left her ID badge on after work.

“Well now I feel bad.” She laughed.

“Don’t.” Heather cut in, her eyes back on the file, “she just does checks on anyone that comes in here.”

“Ignore her.” You replied with a grin, sticking out your hand to introduce yourself, “y/n Walton.”

“And you’re what? Secret security?” Emily asked with a tease and you laughed as Heather tucked the file away into her desk.

“She’s the head of my PR team, does incredible work.”

“I should hope so, you practically groomed me into the assistant you needed.”

“I did not—” Heather scoffed, “you’re a horrible tease.”

“I do my job and then some, and I do it phenomenally.” You showboated for a second, grinning over at Emily before looking up at your boss, “which is why I’m double checking it’s still okay to duck out early tonight?”

“Why?” The other woman asked with a smirk, “you have a hot date or something?”

“Heather, please.” You barked out a laugh, “you’re a slave driver! You know I don’t have time to properly date with my schedule.”

“So why the need to play hooky?”

“A new Netflix special drops at six and I have a frozen pizza, a pint of ice cream and that bottle of Bordeaux screaming my name.” You slipped off the side of her desk, “besides, you still owe me the OT for putting together the gift baskets and flower arrangements for Senator Reeves. You do remember you have an assistant for that kind of shit, right?”

“Oh but sweetheart you’re so much better than them.”

“I know.” You grinned at her, “which is why I’m leaving early.”

She laughed, shaking her head, “keep your phone on.”

“Of course.” You turned, smiling across at Emily, “nice to meet you Agent Prentiss.”

Emily couldn’t help the way her eyes followed you out of the room before she finally turned back to Heather who was grinning like the cheshire cat over the rim of her drink.

“What?” She asked, feigning confusion and Heather chuckled.

“You liked what you saw.”

“Hard not to.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you drool like that over someone before.”

“I—I was not drooling!”

“Maybe not from your mouth.”

“Heather!” Emily felt her cheeks begin to burn, attempting to hide behind her glass as the brunette let out a dark laugh.

“Here, at least take her phone number.” Picking up a pen she scrawled the digits out onto a post it note, handing it to Emily.

“I don’t have time to date, you know this.”

“And you heard her.” She gestured toward the door, “she doesn’t either. You wanted someone with their head on straight who is comfortable occupying themselves when you’re working. I make her schedule; I guarantee she works as many hours as you do. Besides… she’s done this a couple of times before.”

That caught Emily’s attention, looking up from the yellow paper in her hand with her brow furrowed, “really?”

“Yes.”

“With women?”

“She needed some help through college, I was bored.” Heather shrugged, “worked out for both of us and now she’s on my actual payroll.”

“She’s been working for you that long?”

“Mmhm.” Heather nodded.

“So you really did groom her?” Emily teased and it was Heather’s turn to scoff, rolling her eyes.

“Just call her.” She half glared, “god knows she could use a night out, and one where she doesn’t have to rub elbows with politicians the entire time. She deserves a break and likely needs a good fuck, both of which I’m sure you can give to her.”

“We really don’t need to have that conversation.” She laughed, tucking the post it into her pocket, “but thank you. I will think about it.”

“Don’t think too long.” Heather smiled as Emily got up from her chair, scooping up her jacket from the back of it. “If you come back here in two weeks complaining about the shitty apps and you haven’t called her yet I’ll start feeding her lies about how much you suck.”

“Okay, okay.” She laughed, “I’ll call. And I’ll see you later.”

_________________

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[feroluce]

When talking about Boothill's drink order in 2.6, like. Hoyo could have just glossed it over and described it as "a few" or "several" drinks. They didn't bother to program in the actual glasses or anything- it's not like any of us were gonna count them and notice if they put in the wrong amount.

But they specifically chose the number seven, and if it IS just coincidence, it is a very very fun one.

Hsr is also known to make tarot card references- we had the online event shortly before Penacony's release, I'm pretty sure there's at least a couple simulated universe occurrences and a curio, and then Black Swan's Everything.

The Seven of Cups is a card about dreams and making choices when you have multiple options it front of you. It represents resisting self-deception and false dreams, and not letting yourself be charmed by hallucinations. It is a warning to carefully consider what is real vs what is not, which is very important in Penacony as a whole, being the land of sweet dreams, and it becomes relevant to Boothill later, when Primon starts to fuck with his head.

It can also represent someone who is "deep in their cups," which is a more polite way to refer to someone who uses alcohol as a coping mechanism to an unhealthy amount.

I hate that this could be a serious comment on Boothill being an alcoholic to cope with how much horrifying trauma he's experienced...and I have to discuss it looking at Primon's ridiculous fucking face fjkdslajldk

The overall message of the card is to stand fast, keep a clear head, and make your decision. Which suits Boothill beautifully even outside of this patch, since he is the very picture of ruthlessness and straightforwardness- he is able to see that bright clear line between action and result, and he follows it doggedly! Everything he does, he does wholeheartedly and decisively! And we see it especially well when he fights through the partial regression Primon leads him into!

Straight and clear and sure as a bullet, baby!!!