#I thought the warehouse area looked familiar.

[spockvarietyhour]

Stargate Atlantis "Sateda" & Fringe "The Plateau"

[mggslover]

Killing machine

In which reader shocks herself with her abilities in the field, leading her to doubt the person she's become.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!BAU!Reader Genre: angst, fluff Tropes: wound cleaning Word count: 1,8k A/n: the first one shot on this blog and also the first I've written in years!!

The sound of her heavy breathing and the occasional clicking of her broken flashlight fill the stuffy, cramped space of the abandoned container Y/n finds herself in. The BAU is after a team of unsubs who’ve been killing elderly widows who come from old money, using their grief as a way to make it into their lives and homes. They murder them in cold blood, stealing their most prized possessions and storing them in abandoned locations. For the past two days, Y/n has been visiting warehouses all over the state, trying to identify who the found property belongs to and finding new leads on where the unsubs could be. 

Today should’ve been another day of clearing out warehouses and containers. Y/n and the team split up after arriving on the property. Callahan, JJ, and Rossi taking one warehouse, Hotch, Morgan, and Reid taking the other, while Y/n got the task to search some smaller containers around the area. She squints her eyes in an attempt to fight the night blindness as her flashlight flickers. “Come on, just work with me,” she mumbles as she slaps her palm against the back of the flashlight, trying to get it to properly work. Y/n gives a small sigh of satisfaction when a bright light erupts out of the flashlight. As she tilts her head back up, she’s greeted by the chest of a male just inches away from her. Her flashlight shatters to the ground, her hard effort gone as the lens breaks into tiny pieces. The male, who she identifies as one of the unsubs, reaches in his jean pocket where the handle of a Glock is sticking out. Before the unsub has the chance to make a single movement, a bullet derived from Y/n’s gun makes a quick and clean hole in his forehead. She’s met with the familiar ringing in her ear and natural response of flinching as his blood splatters onto her. 

She hears a creak and turns around, expecting a team member to make sure she’s alright. 

“Hey, I-“

She stops dead in her tracks as she catches a small dim of light behind a wooden crate, adrenaline coursing through her veins as she makes out two eyes. The click of a gun makes her snap her head around, and she soon figures out it wasn’t just one of the unsubs hiding in here… it’s all of them. Gun in her clammy hand, she guides herself by the small sounds of movement that suddenly sound as loud as the beating of drums. Adrenaline courses through her veins, her gaze only focused on what’s in front of her as she starts firing. One by one the unsubs hidden behind boxes and shelves fall to the ground. She lets out a yelp and stumbles when a bullet grazes her cheek, making her land on her back. Y/n quickly holds herself up on her arms as she hits the final blow at her shooter. The sound of the gunshots had barely registered in her mind before the deafening silence followed. Her grip remains strong on her gun as her heart pounds into her chest. 

“Y/n!” Spencer’s shriek of panic is heard across the container. He stumbles his way over the boxes and bodies on the ground, only focused on her. “I thought you were dead,” he says as he kneels next to her, brows furrowed and mouth softly agape as he flashes his flashlight in her face, examining her. She hisses as his cold fingers trace the wound on her cheek. “Sorry, sweetheart,” he apologizes. 

The rest of the team follows Spencer into the container. Derek crouches to observe the lifeless body of the assumed leader of the group of unsubs. “Damn girl, that’s a good shot,” he compliments. 

Rossi looks around at the scattered bodies. “It’s not just him, all of these are aimed perfectly,” he says, a hint of pride in his voice. “I need to take some extra classes from you. I can’t even shoot like this in GTA.” His words earn some chuckles, but it makes her stomach churn. She didn’t even think twice about taking them down—how was that something she should feel proud of? The praise made her feel like a weapon, like she was being recognized for something she didn’t want to be good at. 

Hotch’s eyes softened when he noticed her clear discomfort and the state of shock she was still in as she couldn’t find the words to speak. “Reid, get Y/n to the medics outside and then take her home. We’ll get the paperwork done tomorrow.”

-

As Spencer turns the key into his apartment door, he makes sure to keep his hand steady on Y/n’s lower back, gently guiding her inside. “Let’s go clean this wound up. The medic told me you have to sanitize it twice a day, before going to bed and after waking up.” Spencer continues rambling on about the medical books he’s read and how he’s practiced cleaning dirty cuts on himself, as he makes her sit down on the edge of the bathtub. She doesn’t process any of his words, though. Her mind keeps spinning back to the container, how she didn’t experience a moment of doubt as she saw the unsubs armed and how meticulously she ended them. How easy it was to end the lives of five human beings in the span of a single minute. 

She tilts her head with a hum as Spencer repeats her name. “Can I take your vest off?” She nods as she lifts her arms, giving Spencer access. He helps her lift out of it,  tossing the bulletproof vest behind him. She cringes as she notices the dried blood and gunpowder coating it. “Hey… I’m right here, you’re okay,” Spencer softly coos, turning Y/n’s attention back on him. 

He traces the back of his finger against her unhurt cheek. “What’s going on in that pretty head of yours?” When she doesn’t respond, he gently cups her chin, tilting it up to bring her attention to him. He crouches so that he can look her in the eyes. “Tell me what’s bothering you.” She bites down on her bottom lip, a nervous habit she has. She knows she can trust Spencer, but she’s feeling embarrassed. Embarrassed by the fact that she’s struggling so much about something that should be routine by now after the number of years she’s worked at the BAU, but also embarrassed by the fact that it’s supposed to be routine, since it shouldn’t. She shouldn’t have the skill to perform headshots like that and she definitely shouldn’t be praised about it by her colleagues. She knows they mean well, but she cannot get rid of the sick taste in her mouth. 

“Sweetheart, listen to me. I know it was terrifying being alone in there. I know you don’t like the dark or tight spaces, but it’s over now. You did so well.” 

“Did I?” Her voice comes out harsher than intended, making Spencer tilt his head in confusion. 

“I killed five people, Spencer, five,” she says as her voice shakes. Spencer rubs her shoulders up and down. “You were left with no choice, there was no other option.” 

“That doesn’t make what I did any better.” She whispers, her voice barely audible as the tears start to spill. She shakes her head as she scoffs a laugh in disbelief. “God… you heard what Rossi said. I’m a killing machine, Spencer! I didn’t even know I was capable of doing that.” She says. “Garcia fights the justice system to get the man who almost killed her off of death row, and what do I do? I don’t give them a single chance and kill them without even thinking about it. I swear Spence, it happened as a reflex. It shouldn’t happen as a reflex!” Y/n’s anxiety builds up as she keeps thinking of reasons as to why she’s a bad person. The empathy is visible in Spencer’s eyes as his hand trembles slightly as he reaches for the dirty bandage. It wasn’t the wound he was worried about— it was what he couldn’t see. How the strongest person he knew was shaking in front of him, wanting nothing more than to protect her from everything the job took from her. 

“You cannot compare those situations. Garcia saw the potential of him bettering his life. You had no other choice, you needed to protect yourself.” 

She swallows. “I used to be a lot like her, you know.” The memories of Y/n’s early days in her career flood her mind. Back when she could feel proud of her ability to protect others. Back when she could still relate to believing the good in people. She used to think every life had some value worth saving. She doesn’t remember the moment that changed. 

Spencer softly smiles down at her. “You still are, love. You’re a soft-spoken kind soul, you just put some protective layers over that. I know it’s hard to reconcile who you are now with who you were when you started this job,” Spencer says as he caresses her freshly bandaged cheek. “Your strength might have hardened you, but that doesn’t mean you’ve lost your compassion. You’re still the same person. You just do it differently now.” His words make her melt as she leans into his touch, surrendering herself to the security he offered. Spencer smiles to himself as he guides her up off of the bathtub, pulling her into his embrace and resting his chin on her head. 

“You’re such a caring person, sweetheart. The fact that you’re worrying about this tells me enough of how good of a person you are.” Her eyes water as he presses a gentle kiss to her forehead. “I don’t know anyone as gentle and loving as you,” he whispers between kisses as he continues showering her in words of affection and reassurance.

 “You’re the most perfect woman I’ve ever met and you’re amazing at the job that you do. The risk you took has saved so many people, love, just think about it.” Warm, full tears soak his sweatshirt as she buries her face in his chest. Finding gratitude in the fact that her boyfriend always knows the right words to comfort her. 

He takes her face in his hands. “I’m not going to lie to you. It’s going to take a while to get over this, but we’ll go through it together,” he says. Those sweet, brown bambi eyes looking deeply into hers make her believe every word he says. 

“Will you help me? When I need to fill in the evaluation?” She softly asks, already dreading going through the case again, but Spencer's soft gaze calms her. 

“I will, love. I’ll be there every step of the way.”

[is-not-a-bell]

Ghost blobs lead someone to Danny

(There is a part 2 now)

Batman froze at the floating blob, nearly the same color of lauzus waters and glowed even brighter. It seemed to notice him and ziped over to him at an alarming speed. Batman tensed ready to strike. But the thing just hovered in front of him and humming? It sounded desperate and worried, despite sound completely inhuman. His lack of response on seemed to increase the noise it made now make odd movements in one direction.

Before he could blink suddenly he was swarmed with the things. Some started pushing at his back and face. Others grabbed at his cape and tried tugging him forward. All of them humming the same desperate tune. Against his better judgement, a feeling in his chest told him to follow. "Alright" He whispered to the odd blobs. "Lead the way." Several bolted away as he chased behind them. A few stayed with him flying next to him or tucked into his cape.

He followed them over buildings until they reached a warehouse district. He was lead to an area designated for demolition. Finally the blobs float to the ground stoping at a warehouse with a door left ajar.

When Batman pushed the doors open he saw nothing, he stood still for a moment. He nearly thought it was a trap. Before the familiar gentle push urged him on. The ones leading him before flew behind a pile of trash and just barely he could see a faint glow behind it.

When Batman walked behind the trash pile, he froze. A dozen more blobs were there all crowding around a dimly glowing child. The white haired child was curled up and seemed to be bleeding lauzrus green. Batman rushed over and grabbed the child's wrist to feel for a pulse. His heart lurched when he found one, and it lurched again when the boy moved. He whimpered and weakly tried pulling away.

He sprang into action and pulled the boy to himself. He grabbed his bandages and gently uncurled the boy to see his wounds. He froze again at the Y-shaped cut on his chest and the countless other cuts left on him. "Please- please stop." Batman snapped back to when the boy spoke. "It's alright, you're safe now." He said softly, he wrapped the boy up as best he could. "What's your name?" He asked as he gently picked the boy up.

The boy was humming like the blobs he realized, it was far weaker like a buzzing in his hands. "Danny" The boy replied, Batman nearly didn't hear him. "I'll keep you safe Danny, I promise." At that Danny seemed to relax and melt into him. Batman called the Batmobile.

The blobs followed them outside a few seemed to fly away before coming back. Like they were patrolling the area. Others were comforting Danny, rubbing up against him or humming a different sound possibly to reassure him. "What are they?" Batman asks, hoping to get some information before the boy could pass out. "Blob ghosts." He muttered.

"Ghosts?"

"It's what I am, but I'm really bad at it" Danny mumbled the last part to himself but Batman caught it. A ghost entity? It would explain the lack of a pulse and even the wounds. A ghost haunted with his own autoposy scars. Before he could ask more the bat mobile stopped in front of them.

Batman hopped inside and gently place Danny in the passenger seat, buckling him in. The blob ghosts followed tucking into the back in a quick flurry. And like that Batman set off. He called Alfred. "Alfred, prepare the medbay. I have a severely injured unknown."

"Right away"

Batman barely managed to keep the boy awake all the way to the Batcave. Batman tries to ignore Alfred's shocked face as he sees Danny and the swarm of blob ghosts that follow them. "You didn't say they were this unknown."

"Danny says that they are 'blob ghosts' and claims he is a ghost as well. But that he is bad at it some how." Batman explained as they rushed to the medbay. When Batman set the boy down a white ring of light appeared around the boy it split and passed over him. They were left with a very human looking boy who was now bleeding red, mixing in with the green.

He and Alfred shared a look of shock. Before having to push the feeling away to help the boy.

[oizysian]

Pretty New Toy | Wanda Maximoff

Pairing: Fem!Reader x Natasha Romanoff x Wanda Maximoff Warnings: non-con, dubcon, kidnapping Word Count: 2.5k Genre: smut Summary: Y/N and Natasha have their eyes on a new pretty little toy. AN: I'm not very familiar with writing non-con, so I apologize in advance for that.

• Kinktober Masterlist •

“She’s pretty, Nat. I want her.” I pouted up at my girlfriend, watching as her eyes shifted from the girl we had been following to me.

“She’s more than pretty.” She said softly.

“She’s gorgeous.” I said, starstruck.

“Well,” she gave me a nudge. “Go work your magic.”

I nodded happily and almost skipped from where we had been stalking the beautiful brunette. She had dark makeup and dark clothes, but god, she looked innocent under all of that and I just wanted to have her.

“Excuse me, Miss?” I said as I approached her, curling up into myself to seem more like a helpless damsel in distress.

She turned around to face me, her emerald eyes softening at the pathetic look of me.

“Can you help me? I’m really lost and my phone is dead.” I pouted at her, fake tears filling my eyes.

“Of course I can.” She said with the most angelic voice I’d ever heard.

She smiled at me and looked down at the dead cellphone in my hands. Frowning, she stuffed her hand in her pocket and pulled out her own, with a very cute selfie of her as her lockscreen.

“Where are you headed? I can try to direct you. Or would you rather make a call?”

I thought for a moment before opting to use her phone. She handed it over to me and I quietly pretended to make a call, talking to my pretend friend on the other line.

“A few blocks down? Towards the downtown area? Hmm, okay. Bye.”

I pretended to hang up and handed it back to her.

“She said she’s only a few blocks away from here.” I wrapped my arms around myself. “Would you mind walking me there? I’m not used to being out in the city alone.”

“Of course, honey.” She wrapped her arm around my shoulder and pulled me against her. I tried to hide the fact that I was inhaling her scent as if she was the only air I breathed. “How far is it?”

“A few blocks in ��” I acted as though I was figuring out where I was. “This direction, I think. I get so confused.”

“It’s okay. We’ll find it and your friend.”

We began to walk and I couldn’t help but smile. I was right about how sweet and innocent she was under all that makeup and tough exterior. It would be enjoyable seeing her come apart.

I knew Natasha would already be at our meeting place; a shithole abandoned warehouse that nobody cared about. It’s where we spent most of our time - drinking, smoking, fucking.

The woman made polite and pleasant conversation, and I nodded and commented at times when it was appropriate, but I was distracted by the throb between my legs in anticipation for what was to come.

The alley was dark and I huddled closer to her, keeping my scared, little mouse act up. She rubbed my shoulder, smiling down at me assuringly.

“Is this where your friend said they’d be?”

I nodded, looking around for Nat.

“She said she’d be here …”

Natasha came up behind us, cloth over the girls mouth and nose, and grabbed her tightly. She squealed in surprise, but was soon unconscious in Nat’s arms.

“That was a good show, Y/N. Real good.”

“Thank you.” I smiled up at her and pressed a kiss to her lips. “Let’s get our pretty new toy inside.”

I helped her carry the girl in, opening the door for them and fluffing up the pillow that Nat put her down on. I was a princess, I couldn’t do heavy lifting. I climbed over the sleeping woman, removing her phone and wallet from her pockets.

“Wanda Maximoff.” I read the identification in the wallet. “Pretty name for a pretty girl.”

Chucking the items on the ground, I went for her clothing, almost tearing the garments off of her to finally see what was underneath.

Oh, she was absolute perfection.

I placed my legs on either side of her, palming her soft breasts excitedly.

“She’s so cute.” I mused softly, her nipples hardening as I played with them.

“Stop fucking around and tie her up. If she wakes up we’re screwed.”

“Alright, alright.” I rolled my eyes and grabbed the ropes we had at the bedside, grabbing her hands and tying them to the headboard.

“That’s my good girl.” Nat purred, stroking my hair as I tightened the binds.

I smiled up at her, biting my lip as I rolled my hips against the half naked girl, grinding down into her.

“Someone’s excited.”

“Very.” I said as my hands continued to venture down further down her body, slipping my hands up her thigh high skirt. “I can’t wait to be inside her.”

“Get her naked and tied down first. Then you can play.”

I giggled, tugging at her panties from under her skirt, pulling them down and discarding them. She was bare under her skirt now and I couldn’t help but graze my fingers over her mound, slipping them between her folds.

“Oh, fuck, Natty, she’s fucking wet already.”

“Must’ve been from you playing with her tits. Looks like we’re starting to learn what Miss Maximoff likes very quickly.”

I smiled brightly as I played with her throbbing clit, her legs twitching ever so slightly and her brow furrowing, her mouth slightly agape.

“Tie her legs down before you fuck her, Y/N.”

“Where’s the fun in that?”

“When she kicks you and gives you a bloody nose, I don’t wanna hear it.”

I huffed as I removed my hand, lifting her skirt up and sticking my head underneath it.

“She smells so good.” I was nearly drooling. “I’ll take the risk of getting my nose broken.”

I slid myself down her body and spread her legs, bringing my head down between them and licking a strip up her mound. Leisurely, I wriggled my tongue between her folds, dipping into her wetness and bringing it back into my waiting mouth.

“Oh, fuck,” I said, muffled by her pussy. “Oh, god.”

I continued to lap at her, my eager tongue aiming to touch every inch of her delicious cunt.

“You keep making sounds like that, I’m gonna fuck you.”

I raised my head up and took a breath, looking over my shoulder at my girlfriend before wiggling my ass in her direction.

“Is that a threat?”

She was pressed against me before I could even register the fact that she had moved, her nails digging into my hips and the strap she was packing poking into my ass.

“It’s a promise.”

I moaned softly, grinding myself back against her. I was soaking wet and I could barely contain myself any longer.

“Please, fuck me, daddy.” I whimpered, pouting at her from over my shoulder.

With a grunt, she tugged my pants and panties down around my knees and undid the button on her own pants, slipping the cock out and pressing it into my heat.

“Shit.” I hissed, my head resting against Wanda’s stomach as Natasha slid herself inside me.

“Yeah, take it. That’s my good slut.” She grunted under her breath as she started pumping into me roughly.

I gripped Wanda’s thighs tighter as she fucked me, the other girl finally waking up.

“Wha …?” She questioned softly as she came to, watching as I got fucked on top of her.

“Look who’s up.” Nat said, fucking me harder with each word.

I moaned mindlessly, lifting Wanda’s skirt once again and letting my head drop down between her legs, my lips finding her clit and latching onto it, sucking with fervor.

She cried out, realizing what was happening, and started to flail her legs. I held tight like I was riding a bull. She pulled on her restraints, but I tied them tightly, an expert on the perfect knot by now, and she opened her mouth to scream.

“No one can hear you, Wanda.” Nat told her playfully.

Her screams turned into moans, my mouth clearly satisfying her in a way she didn’t expect.

“S-stop!” She whimpered, tears springing to her eyes.

“Your mouth is saying ‘stop’ but your body's saying ‘yes’.” Nat smirked, looking down at Wanda’s perky breasts, her rosy buds hard with arousal.

“No!” She moaned, throwing her head back and attempting to squeeze my head between her thighs. She was close.

I hummed against her, sucking and swirling my tongue around her clit. She let out a scream before her whole body went slack and she lay panting, Natasha still pounding into me as I reached my own release. Her hand slipped between my legs and eager fingers circled my aching clit.

I came all over Nat’s cock, my face buried in Wanda’s dripping pussy.

She was crying, shaking her head back and forth as my tongue slid between her folds, entering her heat and fucking her gently, sensually, almost lovingly. I wanted her to want it.

Her chest heaved, her breathing ragged as I felt her clench around me, the reaction bringing a smile to my face.

Nat pulled out of me, satisfied with my performance and walked around to the head of the bed, climbing on top of Wanda and positioning herself at her face.

“I want you to clean my cock like a good girl, Wanda.”

She cried and shook her head, a moan slipping past her lips as I sucked softly on her clit. Nat took that opportunity to slip her cock in her mouth, thrusting in and out slowly. She grabbed a fistful of her hair and guided her along the shaft, and Wanda took it to the hilt.

“She’s good at this. She’s a very good girl.”

“Daddy, she’s gonna cum again.” I said from between her legs, lifting my head up to watch Nat fuck the other girls face. “Can I make her cum? Please?”

“Of course you can, sweetheart. We want Wanda to feel good.”

Wanda cried around Nat’s cock, but her eyes closed as she took it, her lips circling around it and her tongue jutting out to lick the underside.

“Yeah, look at her. Such a good girl.” She loosened her grip on her hair, running her fingers through it instead of pulling on it.

I returned to my place between her thighs, gripping them tightly as I worked on bringing her to release once more.

She made ungodly sounds around the cock, pulling on her binds, head bobbing as she came again.

I could hear Nat laughing sadistically as the girl shuddered beneath us, sucking her off and enjoying every second of it.

“Wanda’s a good little slut for daddy, isn’t she?”

She lay panting, her eyes defiant as the cock sat still on her tongue, still in her mouth.

“You like sucking my cock?” Wanda’s eyes, glazed over with arousal and tears, met Nat’s, and she nodded ever so slightly. “That’s what I thought. She’s a good girl.”

“I’m a good girl too, right, daddy?”

I looked up at her, licking my lips as Wanda’s arousal dripped down my chin. Nat turned to look at me, her eyes soft and a smile on her face.

“Of course, detka. You’re the best girl.”

I smiled, sitting up between Wanda’s legs and holding them apart, admiring the mess she had made of herself.

“She’s so pretty. And the sounds she makes are so hot.”

“Hm, yes I know.”

Nat gave Wanda one more pump before pulling out of her mouth, saliva dripping from her pink, abused lips. She got off of her and sat in a nearby chair, shrugging her pants off and touching herself as she watched us.

“How’d my cum taste?” I asked playfully. Her eyes were aflame with unwanted arousal and fury.

“Fuck you.” She spat.

“Well, that wasn’t very nice.” I pouted, looking from the girl in front of me to Nat who was leisurely pleasuring herself.

I got off the bed, stripping out of my clothes and standing naked before her.

“After I made you cum and everything.”

“You made her cum twice.” Natasha breathed, a chuckle in her voice.

“Twice.” I repeated, climbing back on the bed and hovering over Wanda. “You should be thanking me.”

She pursed her lips, her look of defiance not wavering, as I bent my head down and pressed my lips to hers. She let out a squeak of surprise and stayed still, but relaxed and opened her mouth for me to let my tongue in. She finally kissed me back, slowly, carefully, and I pulled away from her, smiling down at her trembling form.

“See? I’m not that bad. I can make you feel good again. As long as you keep being a good girl.”

She swallowed roughly and nodded, and I took that as a sign to grab her leg and position myself between them, wrapping it around my hip so I could easily press my pussy against hers.

She gasped softly, her eyes closing and brow furrowing as I rocked my hips against her own.

“You’re so fucking wet … hot …” I murmured as I fucked her, losing myself in the feel of her.

“Yeah, fuck her harder.” Nat said as she fucked herself, her own chest heaving as she got closer to release.

“Yes, daddy.” I cried, thrusting against her, gripping her leg tighter.

“Fuck.” Wanda whimpered, tears spilling from her eyes and drool dripping down her chin as I rubbed my clit against hers.

I could almost feel her throbbing as I rutted up against her, my breath getting caught in my throat at the feel of her heat.

“Cum for me, Wanda. Cum again for me.” I mewled, feeling my own orgasm approaching.

She let out a shuddering cry and I felt a gush of wetness between us as she came. I bit my lip and dug my nails into her leg as I thrust up against her frantically, chasing my own release.

I heard Nat grunting softly as she fucked herself, her fingers deep in her pussy as she watched us, her pretty toys, fucking each other, seemingly, for her pleasure.

“Oh fuck,” she groaned, biting her lip and rocking against her fingers, her other hand joining and rubbing tight circles on her clit. “I’m cumming.”

I turned to look at her, watching as the beautiful redhead came all over herself. She was art. I returned my attention to Wanda, who was a complete mess at this point - but also, a beautiful piece of art.

“Can you give me another?”

She shook her head and I gave her a sympathetic smile, but shook my head right back at her.

“That’s not the answer I was looking for, Miss Maximoff.”

“Please,” she begged softly, and I waited to hear what she was begging so pathetically for. “Please.”

“Please, what, Wanda?” I figured she would beg for mercy, or to be let go.

She stared at me for a moment then swallowed roughly, her breath hitching in her throat.

“Touch me.”

Her voice was small, broken, and I smiled at the sound. We had won.

“That’s my good girl.”

•

@mathxa, @poison-blackheart

[mockerycrow]

I got a funny short fic idea here. Task 141 + König + Los Vaqueros x fem!reader reacting to their bodies being switched with each other.

A bit of a scenario, both of them went on a mission and happens to get ambushed by a gas fume in a room, after some lingering time time trying to get out of there (they did eventually), they passed out and the other members had to drag both of their bodies to base. The next day they woke up in the medic room but found something is wrong with their own bodies. Could be either sfw or nsfw

Body Switch Gas (141 + Los Vaqueros + König x Fem!Reader)

masterlist

A/N: I made this sfw because I wasn’t sure how to how make it nsfw. i also stole the “valeria escaped” warzone storyline. i also don’t like how this ended up, so i might edit it later and tag you in the new version. my apologies!

Honestly, nothing seemed weird with the room at first. A standard side room inside of a warehouse—full on intel on Valeria’s whereabouts. It was clear she was here at one point; pictures of different cartel members, people who had betrayed her, floor plans of several different buildings—several that you’ve already been to, and more that now you can check out. There’s many documents strewn about too, something that can be sifted through by techs later. Your fingers brush over a few papers and move them around, a particular piece of paper catching your eye. You look over at your captain, Price, motioning him over with your head. “I think I got something.” You call out, successfully catching his attention. Price walks over with heavy footsteps and goes to grab the document your fingers linger on, and then suddenly this odorless, foggy gas begins to spill out of the simple vents around the room. You immediately cough as whatever the gas seems to be, burns your lungs. You try to swat the gas away, patting your gear for your gas mask, but it’s nowhere to be found. His coughs echo off of the walls, his hand clutching the table that’s covered in papers. Your vision blurs as you make your way towards the door, but you end up being too weak to open it. You spot outside of the little corner room that the warehouse is filling up with the same gas and the panic strikes you; what if your teammates get hurt?? You fall to the ground and hit your head harshly, knocking you out before you could debate the thought any more.

You groan quietly, not quite registering the vocal tone being low and too rough to be yours—not when you have this intense throbbing bouncing inside of your skull. You hear a heartbeat monitor vaguely coming from your upper right as you twitch awake. Your eyes flutter open for a moment and you stare at the ceiling and freeze because something feels totally and utterly wrong. You sit up quickly and look at your hands and the hands that in place of yours are definitely not yours. The hefty gear resting on body is not yours. Your breath hitches and you mutter, “What the fu-“ and you quickly cut yourself off as a familiar gruff, low, British accent spills from your lips. You clear your throat as you hesitantly lift your fingers to your cheek, brushing your fingers over the skin to find thick hair—a beard of some sort. You rip your hand away in shock but then you can’t stop staring at your hands again. “This has to be a dream.”

You look around and a curtain is closed around your infirmary bed. For some reason, no one took your gear off, so you reach around and begin to remove the heavy vest. You let out a sigh of relief as you let it fall to the side of the gurney with a loud thump. You put your hand on your chest and for the first time ever, you don’t feel boobs. Your eyes widen as you quickly cup your chest, only to feel firm pecs. “What the actual fuck is goin’ on?” You curse, only to jump from the voice that’s coming from your new body. You sound exactly like fucking Price. As soon as you move to take your IV out, someone opens the curtain to your bedding area. You have a deer in headlights look as you make eye contact with one of the base corpsman’s, his smile soft, yet filled with nerves. “You’re awake! That’s good, the others are waiting for you in room 18.” He murmurs, holding a clipboard and a pen. He writes something down as you nod, dread filling you once again. “We’ll get this figured out, alright?”

He walks over and gently removes the IV, putting a cotton ball with a piece of medical tape over the site, pulls off the heart monitor pieces, and then the corpsman walks away. Leaving you alone.

What the fuck did he mean?

You shake your head and you stand up slowly and it feels weird. This isn’t your body and it borderline feels like you have to learn how to walk again. You silently make your way down the hall of the infirmary room, heading towards the hall. Room 18 should just be around the corner. The sliding doors open for you and you step out into the hall; you can hear familiar voices down the hall from that exact room. You make your way there and you open the door, met with everyone around a table—including you. It’s very surreal and scary and you nearly pale.

“Ah, [Name], you’re awake!” Soap exclaims softly, softer than Soap usually would. You blink and you don’t answer at first. Gaz reaches over and nudges Soap, muttering, “She’s confused, give her a second.”

You stand there and you point to yourself, swallowing your spit and saying, “What the fuck and why am I Price?”

Your body snorts quietly, her arms crossed. “And I’m you, [Name].”

You blink. And you blink again.

“Gah, you broke her!” Ghost’s voice is fucking booming—louder than you’ve heard it before and you wince. “Johnny, can you not?” Gaz hisses, looking at Ghost.

Oh, so.. “Wait.. who is who?”

“I’m Ghost.” Gaz answers, his arms remaining crossed. “I’m Soap!” Ghost says, leaning back in his chair. Soap chuckles and scratches the back of his neck. “You can guess who I am then, huh?”

Again, you blink.

What the actual fuck just happened.

“Wait, where’s the others? Alejandro, Rudy? König?” You ask with a worried tone, walking over and sitting down next to,,, yourself. Weird.

You make eye contact with yourself; or, er, Price, as he begins to speak. "They're freakin' out in their own room, trying to figure out a way to fix all of this."

"Who switched with who?" You question. "Konig is Alejandro, Rudy is Konig and Alejandro is Rudy." Ghost pipes up, stretching his back muscles. Oh.

With no knowledge of how long you all will stay like this, you stay sitting down, wondering if this a forever thing. And you wonder how it even fucking happened in the first place.

[thewalkingthread]

i found you - r.g. (moodboard)

pairing: rick grimes x reader

summary: on your search for rick, you're faced with an unknown group. little did you know, they one of the soldiers was more familiar than you thought.

warnings: NOT REVISED, violence, cursing, walking dead gore

author's note: this is loosely based off of events from the ones who live. I've only been thinking about Rick since the show aired but am going to post a Daryl one shot soon! This will definitely have a part 2!

-

You pressed your back against the wall of the warehouse. You glanced over at Bailey who had a grenade loaded and ready to blow. He glanced at you, waiting for you to give him the okay.

You glanced back at the group of soldiers that was slowly spreading around the open area.

They'd been on your tail for some time after dropping a bomb on the town you were tucking in for the night with a group. You and Bailey were the only ones who survived.

You were certain is was the same group. Same black uniforms, same helmets, same heaping amount of artillery on them. You were beyond doubtful that you would get out of this situation, but you had to.

You had to keep going. You had to find Rick. You had to go home.

You nodded your head at him and he threw the grenade in the middle of the warehouse before you both ran for cover. Seconds later explosion rocked the ground, the groans and shouts of the soldiers echoing through the now decrepit warehouse.

Their bodies were thrown across the floor.

"I'm going to finish them off," Your eyes darken as you step towards the dying men. You grab the red handled machete, gripping it tight as you walked.

Bailey wasn't too far behind you, keeping his weapon drawn as you approached the bodies.

You kicked over the first person, grabbing the bottom of the helmet and throwing it to the side. The man was groggy, fading in and out of consciousness but you grabbed his vest and pulled him up towards you, making sure he got a good look at your face before you slowly slid your machete through his forehead.

You dropped his body onto the ground, moving on to the next, repeating the same process. These men killed the people that were helping you. They deserved nothing short of a painful death.

There was one man left, trying his best to crawl away. You wanted to laugh at his desperation.

You kicked him in the stomach, his body curling up at the contact.

"You,"

Kick.

"Killed,"

Kick.

"Everyone!"

You shouted in frustration, grabbing the man by his uniform and pulling him up to his feet.

"Fight. Back." You shout, shoving him by his chest.

He kept his head down, probably still trying to recover from the grenade. The man stumbled back, barely able to hold his body up on his own.

You knock him to the ground, ready to end it. In one swift movement he swipes his leg against yours, causing you to land flat on the ground. You groan at the sudden impact, your machete sliding just out of your reach.

He grabs you by your helmet, pulling it towards him in a jerky motion. He's about to punch you but Bailey swings his staff at the guys back, dropping him to the ground.

You nod at Bailey, thanking him. You pulled your helmet off, catching your breathe as you reach down for your machete.

You pull the guys helmet off and swing the machete down in one fluid motion. His brings his arm up to your wrist, stopping you.

Your eyes meet and your heart seems to stop. You drop the machete to the ground, stumbling a few steps back.

Those blue eyes you've been dreaming about were now staring back at you.

"R-Ri-" You gasped out.

His face mirrored yours in complete shock. He pushes himself off the ground, closing the space between you.

"Rick!" You cried out, collapsing into his arms once he was within reach. You couldn't control the sobs that left your mouth once you were completely in his embrace.

"Y/N," Rick inhaled deeply, his lips pressing to your neck. "You found me." He mumbled.

"I found you," You cried, grabbing at his clothing, as if he would disappear if you let go even just a little bit.

Rick pulls away first, but just enough to cup your cheek and press his lips to yours. It's been damn near 7 years since your lips last touched and you could tell from how desperate this kiss was.

There was an awkward cough from beside you.

You both pull away, an awkward chuckle leaving you as you glance at Bailey.

"So is this the famous Rick Grimes?" He raises an eyebrow. You nod your head, biting your bottom lip.

"Rick, this is Bailey." You introduce the two. The give each other nods, before Bailey glances around the dead bodies.

"I," Rick starts. "I know what it looks like... But I'm not one of them. I just-" He looks ashamed.

"I know. I know, Rick." You nod your head, wrapping your arms around him again.

"Is everyone okay? Alexandria? J-Judith..."

"They're okay. Everyone is okay. Judith- she's perfect." You nod your head presses a kiss to his face. A breathe of relief leaves his mouth and his nods, relaxing his shoulders at the reassurance.

"We have to get home. Everyone- They'll all be so excited to see you." You gushed.

"It's not that simple, Y/N..." Rick frowns. "The people, these people. They're not that simple." He shakes his head.

"I can't- I can't go with you." He mutters.

"What?! Rick are you crazy?" You furrowed your eyebrows.

"I'll get away. I will." He tries to reassure you. "You have to go." His voice cracks. "Both of you, you have to go back home. More soldiers will come looking for us and you can't be here when they get here. You have to go home." He squeezes your hand.

"I just got back to you, I am not leaving your side." You say through gritted teeth.

"We don't have a choice, darling." He pleads with you. "Please, I know what I'm doing. I will find a way out. I will get back home to you, I swear." The deep groan of a helicopter catches your attention.

"You have to go. Now. Get home and tell everyone to prepare to fight, or run. Those are the only options." He mutters hurriedly. "I'm sorry this was so short. But I will find you again, my darling."

"Y/N, they're getting closer. We have to go." Bailey urges.

Tears well in your eyes as he tugs you away from Rick. You press one more kiss to his lips, savoring every moment, knowing this could very well be the last.

"I love you, my darling." He says against your lips. "So, so much."

[toxicanonymity]

Can you please write speakeasy!Joel full on fucking reader in front of people (and people are watching and commenting)

Lockdown

1k / joel miller x f!reader / joel master list

WARNINGS: Unsafe P in V, horny, desperate joel begging, established relationship, creampie, exhibitionism, forced voyeurism. 

You feel him harden against you and reflexively scoot your ass back without thinking about your surroundings.  He puts his mouth to your ear.   “Don’t start somethin’ ya can’t finish, baby.” 

That could be a problem.  You’re locked down in a one-room warehouse with about twenty other people while infected swarm the area.  Joel’s first instinct, as always, was to grab his gun off his back.  But a decision was made to hunker down.  Gunfire would only attract more of them.

He’s slumped against the wall and you’re between his legs.Ten minutes ago, he took off his belt because he thought it was hurting you and you should’ve known what would happen.  You turn your head and whisper, “Sorry.”  He only hardens more obscenely.  The familiar outline stretches up against his hip near his pocket. 

"Now look what ya did, baby." 

You take a deep breath as he subtly moves his pelvis, rubbing it against you.  Visually, it would be imperceptible to those in the room at this point.  But he has your whole body aching with need. 

“You gonna take care of this?” he asks as he continues.

“You know I can’t.”  Oh, how you wish you could.

"God damn, sugar." He pulls you back into him with a soft grunt. "Tryin' to kill me with this ass," he murmurs into your hair. It feels like he's trying to kill you with his voice all low and gravely, trying to be quiet. 

He isn't used to being turned down, as horny as you are for each other, but there's nowhere to do it.  It’s one big room with people all around it.  Boxes scattered here and there, but nothing that could conceal you.  No restroom. There's a nook that leads to a restroom and a closet but both are locked and no one there has the key. And all these people - they’re stuck in here with you.  No one can leave.

You feel his desperation as he pulls you into him. “We can’t, Joel,” you whisper. Fucking in public would be nothing new. But in a closed room where people can't leave?

He growls in a whisper. “We gotta, sweetheart.” 

People are having scattered conversations but mostly sitting around and it’s pretty quiet.  Two men are having a spirited discussion and a third tells them, "Shhhhh."

“Gimme some cover,” Joel says.  His hand comes between the two of you and unbuttons his jeans. Oh, God.  If he jacks off it's gonna be obvious to everyone, plus you'll be turned all the way on. He gathers your dress, pulling the back of it out from under you so your naked ass cheeks are against his jeans.  While he's at it, he slips a finger under your thong and snaps it playfully then slides his finger under it again and slides it down, un-wedging it from between your ass cheeks.  He takes a deep, horny breath. 

“Jesus,” the closest person whispers. Joel sighs and gives them an intimidating stare as he jostles between your bodies and takes out his rock-hard cock.  He lays it against your lower back, covers it with your dress, and a chill of arousal races down your body. He pulls you back into him and cups your breast as he rocks into you a little less discreetly. You squeeze his thigh. 

"Too much," you whisper. 

"Not enough, baby."

"Try to be still." He's still for about a minute then pushes himself against you with a soft, muffled groan that calls more attention.

"Hurts too much," he whispers. 

Someone whisper-yells, "Do you have to do that here?" Meanwhile some other pervert is palming his own cargo pants. You try to block it all out.

"Fuck, I gotta come, sugar. This is torture." He sounds genuinely in pain. 

"Then hurry up and be quiet." 

He quietly spits in his hand and wedges his hand in between you. His breaths are heavy as his hand moves and people pretend they aren't watching.   

"Sit on it, baby. It'll be faster." He breathes heavier and thrusts against you again. 

"No." You turn your head to tell him, "Everyone's staring already."

"You better look me in the eye when you're sayin' no."  

Your breath hitches. You look at him and see the utter agony on his face. It turns you on.  

"Fuck. cover yourself for a second." 

"Fuck yeah. Only take a minute"  

"But get a hold of yourself. We don't know these people." It's not the same as when you're in your own territory like the bar.  You glance around and a few people pretend they weren't watching. You try to pretend they're not there as you carefully get up and turn around facing Joel. He brings his legs together and you straddle him, spreading your skirt over both of you.  His face is so desperate you can almost, almost forget about the room full of people. He raises his knees behind you.

He holds his cock at attention under your skirt. "Sit on it, baby," he begs. He's panting. “Don’t gotta do nothin’ else.”  You slowly lower yourself, and as soon as you begin to take in his swollen tip, he takes hold of your hips and slides you down his length with a sigh. You try not to gasp too loud as his girth makes room for itself inside you. He looks up at the ceiling then back at you.

"God I love you," he whispers, then takes your face in his hands and kisses you passionately. 

Someone whispers, "what the hell?"  And someone else says "they're actually fucking."

You break the kiss self-consciously and you just look in each other's eyes as he gently rocks his pelvis and slightly bounces you on his cock. His arms wrap around you and you put your head in the crook of his neck.  Being full of him is your comfort zone. He’s right, it doesn’t take long until you get the tell tale signs that he’s going to come. His breath is ragged, his grunts are more frequent, though mercifully not as loud as usual.  He twitches inside you.  

“Not too loud,” you whisper.  He kisses you through his orgasm, moaning “Mmmmm,” slightly softer than usual.  You sit there on his cock for a long time, not wanting to move and draw attention.  You fall asleep there as he caresses your arms and your head stays buried in the crook of his neck. 

-

more of these antics on the joel master list - "for survival --> speakeasy" section.

Thank you so much for reading and engaging!!! you can follow @toxicfics for fic notifications and @toxicrecs for fic recs.

All Joel:@ethanhoewke @silkiers @eiviea @evyiione @xdaddysprincessxx @queerly-anxious @chernayawidow @ambassadortotrilliusprime @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @jasminespringtime @romanarose  @fandomsfallnomore  @djarinxore @blackvelveteen1339   @manazo @wolvesandvampires  @taeslarityy  @str84pedro @lokanda  @kyloispunk  @filthfairy  @fieryglutenfreechickennoodles  @harriedandharassed  @moonlightdivine @worhols @fan-fiction-floozy  @cutesyscreenname  @weddingfairy  @pedropascal-whore  @spideysimpossiblegirl  @feministfanboi @gracieispunk @prettypartyfavor @am-3-thyst @babeincolor @milla-frenchy

[theyhavetakenovermylife]

Stake Out (18+)

2003!Leonardo x reader

A/N: I know SuperQuest is in the BTTS season, but I couldn’t help myself.

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

You and Leo are still frustrated after having been interrupted a few hours earlier. So you decide to use this stake out to your advantage.

Warnings: Public sex, face fucking, rooftop sex, Leo trying to focus.

All characters are aged up.

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

The night stretched endlessly over the city, like a dome of inky blackness adorned with the glimmering jewels of stars. The distant hum of traffic and the occasional siren created a white noise that surrounded you, but in the stillness of the night, it was as if time itself held its breath. High above the bustling streets, Leonardo and you crouched silently on a familiar rooftop, your eyes trained on the rhythmic heartbeat of the city below. Or on a certain warehouse to be specific. A warehouse owned by members of the Purple Dragons.

A few hours before you and Leonardo had started your stake out, Donatello had managed to get information that Hun was waiting for a delivery. What delivery he did not know, but Hun had seemed stressed over his messages, leading Donatello to believe it must be important.

But it was what you and Leo were doing before Donnie called out of the leader in blue, that stayed in your mind, taunting you as time went on. Making out on his futon bed with his three fingered hand down your pants. He was just about to reach your core when Donnie started yelling about a delivery to the Purple Dragons.

So there you were several hours later, on a rooftop with your ninja boyfriend, still incredibly turned on from your heated make out session in his bedroom. But your boyfriend didn’t show any signs of frustration. His keen eyes were scanning the street below, analyzing every moment.

As the night deepened, so did the unspoken desires that simmered beneath the surface of your skin. You sighed in frustration as your mind started wondering what could have happened, if you and Leo hadn’t been interrupted. How Leo most likely would have fingered you, while telling you to keep quiet with his family just outside his bedroom, in the big open living area. Leonardo knew that sigh of frustration. It was one he had heard many times, during the countless nights he had teased you near the point of begging. Leo’s usually reserved demeanor softened under the celestial gaze, his attention drifting more towards you instead of the warehouse.

The subtle shift did not escape your notice. A mischievous smile crept up on your face. Leo also knew that smile. He knew it way too well. And whenever he saw that smile, he usually loved what came along with it. You and your dirty ideas never seized to amaze him. But as much as he wanted to give in, and do whatever you had thought of doing on that roof, he had to stay focused. He was on a stack out, a mission.

But as you crawled towards him, and placed your lips on his with a passionate kiss, Leo’s focus had to fight against the burning desire that had builded in him for several hours. He broke the kiss to look you in the eyes, surprised that he already was out of air.

“You know I want to, (Y/N). I really fucking want to, but I have to keep an eye out. They said Hun would get a delivery tonight”, Leonardo said slightly breathless, nodding towards the warehouse on the other side of the street.

“Who said you had to look away?”, you asked innocently. Leo looked at you in confusion, but as soon as you started to tie your hair back, he caught on. He got comfortable on the roof, making sure he still had a full view of the warehouse, while being covered by the shadows. You got down low, your face mere centimeters from his slightly pulsing cloaca. Leo was biting the inside of his cheek as his gaze flickered between you and the street below.

Leo’s grip on the roof edge tightened as you started licking around his cloaca. As you looked up you saw his mouth fall open, letting out a silent moan. You continued licking, deciding that this was the way you would make him drop. Teasing him like he had teased you so many times before.

Leo chuckled, biting his lips and shook his head slightly, eyes still on the warehouse. “You little tease”, he breathed out, one hand finding your head, stroking your head with his fingers.

As you continued licking around his cloaca, you started working on the buttons of your pants, struggling a little before pushing them down your legs. Leo caught himself staring at you in your blue underwear, thinking of what he would have done to you in his bedroom if he had seen them there. He mentally slapped himself before looking back to the warehouse, only to gasp as he felt himself drop into your mouth. The cold air around his pulsing erection taunted him, as you sat up to take your hoodie and t-shirt off, leaving you in a black bra. Leo wanted to strangle Hun. Had he not decided to get a delivery that day, Leo would have had you begging in his bed wearing that bra several hours ago.

Leo felt your warm tongue glide up his shaft, making his vision blurry for a short moment. He looked down just in time to see you take his head into your beautiful mouth, your eyes shining innocently at him. Innocent, as if you weren’t sucking and licking his dick on the rooftop of New York City, just opposite a Purple Dragon's hideout.

You took him all the way into your mouth, gaging slightly as he hit the back of your throat. How Leo fucking loved the feeling of you gagging on his dick.

While still keeping half an eye on the warehouse, Leo took your hair into his fist, before raising your head and his hip ever so slightly. You relaxed your throat, knowing full well what was about to happen. With small rapid thrusts, Leo started fucking your mouth, still deviding his attention between you and the street. Both of you knew that had this been happening in his bedroom, he would not be holding back at all. Just simply telling you to be a good girl and keep quiet.

You grasped for air as Leo pulled his now soaked dick out of your mouth, enjoying the sound of your heavy breathing as he gave himself a few tugs.

“On your back”, Leo breathed out, getting up on his knees as you laid down, keeping an eye on the still quiet warehouse.

Using your hoodie and pants as a pillow, you got comfortable on the ground, opening your legs wide enough for your turtle boyfriend to position himself between them.

With one arm of the roof edge, Leo held himself up high enough, not letting the warehouse out of sight. The other hand went to his shaft, giving it a few tugs before gliding his head between your wet folds, feeling you jolt slightly as he pressed against your clit.

Leo looked down for a few seconds, making sure he was aligning up with your entrance properly, catching a quick glance at your eyes. Pupils just as blown out as his, your lips parted, watching his every move with anticipation. There was no doubt in Leo’s mind. Once this stake out was done, he would take care of you probably in his own room.

Leo fought to keep his eyes open as he pressed into you. His mouth slightly open, letting out a low groan at the feeling of you around him. The hand he had used to position himself, was now on your hip, keeping you in place as he slowly made his way in, making sure you took him as far as you could.

Once he had made it all the way in, he settled for a moment, making sure you had adjusted to his size before he started moving. You started whimpering, even at his smallest movements, prompting Leo to place his hand over your mouth, gradually speeding up his movements.

You moaned into his hand, holding onto his arm to keep yourself grounded as your mind started fogging up in pleasure. Your breast bouncing inside of your bra, the small sight of it almost making Leo go wild.

As Leo’s thrust became faster, his eyes would flicker between you and the ever quiet warehouse on the other side of the street. He managed to catch a glimpse of your hand sliding down to your clit, rubbing yourself as he continued to thrust himself into you. He breathed out a curse, closing his eyes for a few seconds, before looking back down on the street. Still nothing. How badly Leo wanted to give up on that warehouse so he could focus on the feeling of your cunt, squeezing his cock tighter as your fingers started to move faster against yourself.

As Leo felt his climax slowly reaching, his thrust became more and more erratic. The was something deeply exciting about fucking you on the rooftop, knowing that the Purple Dragons could find the two of you if you were a bit louder. It did unexpected things to Leonardo’s head, just like the feeling of your walls closing further around him, letting him know that you too were about to cum.

“That’s it, baby”, Leo mumbled, keeping a weak eye on the goddamn warehouse. “Cum for me, (Y/N)”.

And that was all it took for you before you came hard around his dick, fighting to keep quiet. If it wasn’t for the fact that your boyfriend was the most talented person you had been with in bed, you would have been embarrassed.

It didn’t take long before Leo came too. His hips shuttering and he let his streaks flow inside you, one by one, riding out both of your highs, enjoying the warmth you provided him.

He pulled out and moved to the side, careful as to not be seen by the people on the other side of the street, when his t-phone gave a little notification. He looked at it, while you started putting your clothes back on.

“You gotta be joking”, Leonardo mumbled irritatedly as he read the text on the small screen in his hand.

“What is it?”, you asked.

“Hun’s delivery was just the newest copy of SuperQuest and it got canceled”, he growled frustrated. But as soon as Leo had said those words, a smile started creeping up on his lips, all frustration disappearing. “You know what this means right?” He took your face in his hands, bringing it close to him, making you giggle. You had a feeling you knew what he was talking about. “I can do this all over with you again in the lair, and this time be able to watch you”.

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?”, you asked with a teasing smile. “Hun could be up to something else”.

“Hun can go and fuck the Admin Wizard for all I care”, Leo said, getting himself ready to leave. “Now, get your clothes on so I can take it off of you again when we get home”.

[foxaftershocks]

First off I wanna say I love your writing!

So basically the read would of had been haunted by the ghost of their childhood best friend after the had accidentally coursed their house to catch on fire (they would been 5 when this happened) and every since they have been trying to find a way to help them move on, especially since the friend does not understand that the fire was an accident. they have by some miracle kept this a secret from everyone but after they get called to a abandoned wearhouse the secret is revealed, the friends ghost tries to hurt the reader after separating them from the group but lars manages to save them and fianlly they come clean about it all.

I hope how I've formatted this makes sense:)

Thank you!!!! It made total sense and I really hope you like what I did with it.

Fog was rolling across the huge expanse of the floor. It didn’t feel real, like a movie set with the shadows and the fog and the swinging chains as you passed. Your heart was hammering in your chest, loud in your ears. Your breaths were unsteady and you could feel yourself tremble in the cold air. Gripping your proton gun harder, you took a hesitant step forward.

“Careful,” Lars said, a large hand closing over your shoulder.

“This isn’t my fist rodeo,” you said, glancing at him over your shoulder.

He was staring at something in the distance, squinting behind his glasses. You tried to see what he was looking at but it was all roiling shadows and darkness reaching out. Or maybe that was what he was looking at so intently.

“Alright, you guys take upstairs and we’ll sweep down here,” Callie said, turning her head as she took in the whole abandoned warehouse.

On quiet footsteps, you and the younger Spenglers made your way up to the upper levels of the warehouse, peering down into the wide expanse below you. The teenagers peeled off, leaving you with Lars to prowl through the offices.

You’d been with the Ghostbusters for a few months now, having shown up on their doorstep one day demanding a job. Your experience with ghosts got you through the door, your refusal to say no keeping you. And yet guilt dogged your every step.

You hadn’t told anyone why you were so desperate to work with them. Your late nights were less about your passion for the Ghostbusters and more about your need to find answers. Answers you thought only they would have.

Lars’ shoulder brushed against yours, walking beside you towards the first door. Maybe there was another reason you wanted to stick around too.

“Ladies first,” he said, motioning to the door for you.

“Coward.” You smirked at him.

You pushed the door open, gun raised, sweeping the room. He followed behind, watching your back, calculating gaze investigating the shadows. Checking under the desk, you let out a relieved breath.

The call had come in the middle of the night. Weird noises and ghostly spectres in the warehouse. Loud noises had been scaring the night watchmen in the area, a few even quitting after being chased from the building. Being awoke in the night, groggy and unsure, Callie telling you to gear up, was hardly normal and yet it was hard to hate it. Excitement around every corner and all that.

“Clear,” you said.

You straightened, taking a step back from how close he was. You hadn’t been expecting it, thinking he was on the other side of the room. A hand shot out, grasping your elbow before you could lose your balance.

“Next room?” he asked.

“Sure.”

You only got a few steps before you heard something shifting in the darkness at the end of the hall. A flash of a familiar face faded into the shadows. Your heart stumbled before pounding hard against your ribs. Taking a deep breath, you schooled your features.

“How about you do this room and I’ll do the next one and then we’ll be done in half the time,” you suggested to Lars.

“We’re not meant to split up,” he said, “in case something happens.”

“It’s the middle of the night. Don’t you want to get out of here quicker?” you asked.

He considered you for a moment before he gave a slow nod.

“I’ll only be next door. Scream if you get attacked,” you said.

He rolled his eyes but you could see the way he was trying to suppress a smile. You waited until he’d slipped through into the next room before high tailing it down the hall on tip toes. Gaze darting around the hall, you tried to find her.

“Lizzy,” you hissed, trying to stop any of the other Ghostbusters from hearing you, “I know you’re here.”

An echoing giggle lured you further, chasing a ghost. Darting from shadow to shadow, gun held in your hand, you hoped this would be the time you could finally help her move on. It had taken so long to realise that when you saw Lizzy and no one else could that it was because she wasn’t really there. Your parents had been so worried when you insisted Lizzy wasn’t dead because you could see her, standing at the end of your street or following you around school.

Eventually, after the first time she’d scared you, you realised something wasn’t right. That your parents had been right. That she had died that awful night and you were being haunted by her ghost. That she wouldn’t move until you could help her.

Another giggle drew you further into the shadows. This was your chance. You’d spent months working with the Ghostbusters and this was the first time she was letting you get close again. You could help her. She could move on if she would only get a chance.

At the end of the hall, the familiar figure of Lizzy floated, a few inches above the floor. She looked exactly the same as she had that night, a young girl, caught in amber, nothing but a memory torn from your childhood. You took a shuddering breath in.

“Lizzy,” you breathed.

On hesitant footsteps, you approached. Any time you’d gotten close to her, she’d erupted in anger, always ending with you cowering in a corner, begging her to leave you alone. But you were stronger now. You were better. You could fix this.

“Hi,” she said in that sweet little girl voice that was burned into your brain, “this place is kinda scary.”

“That’s okay. I’m here. Nothing’s going to happen to you,” you said.

“But something already has happened to me,” she said, so matter of fact.

Your breath froze in your chest, the air growing colder again. You held out a hand to her, wanting her to trust you. Wanting her to believe you.

“I’m so sorry, Lizzy. I can fix this. I promise I can fix this.”

A few more steps towards her and you thought you might freeze. It was so cold and every drag of breath hurt. And yet the hope kept you going.

“How?” she asked, sounding so lost.

“I can help you move on. We just need to figure out what your unfinished business is,” you said.

“I know what it that is,” she said.

You knelt down in front of her.

“What’s your unfinished business?” you asked.

“Making you pay for doing this to me.”

Wind slammed into you from behind. You fell forward, your hands coming up to catch yourself before your face could slam into the floor. Rolling onto your back, you found her floating above you. You scrabbled for the gun you’d dropped but something stopped you. This was Lizzy, your best friend, you couldn’t do something that hurt her. Again.

You scrambled back, scared as her face began to morph into something from your nightmares. Elongating, teeth growing, eyes flickering like fire, no longer was she the sweet little girl caught in your memories. Before your eyes, she was turning into a demon, fuelled by rage and revenge.

Your hand came down, expecting to feel more floor but only finding empty space. Turning, you found broken off railing, the hall hanging over empty space, the concrete floor of the warehouse so far from you. Another gust of wind slammed into you, pushing you closer to the edge. A low moan came from deep within your chest and you found Lizzy floating closer.

She swooped down at you, a scream bursting unbidden from you. Raising your arms to cover your head, you felt yourself teeter on the edge. Another scream. You knew you wouldn’t survive that fall, smashing against the concrete like a broken door.

“I’m going to hurt you like you hurt me,” Lizzy said, her voice high and sweet, such a difference to the words coming from her.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” you babbled, gasping for breath.

Tears were streaming down your cheeks. Another crash of wind slamming into you. You teetered, before falling backwards. It felt slow motion in your mind. The knowledge you were about to die was all you could focus on.

Then a hand grasped yours, holding on so tight you thought your blood supply might cut off. You cut off a sob, grasping onto the warmth, almost burning after the chill of the air. Inch by inch you were dragged back up, the metal walkway the greatest thing you’d ever felt.

“What happened?” Lars asked.

He was crouched next to you, still holding on while you panted, gasping for breath, the sobs not abating. You shook your head, not able to answer. The truth too much to spill.

“You’ve made a new friend.” Your eyes squeezed shut at the sweet voice, “that’s not fair.’

Lars was slow to look up, attention shifting from you to your ghost. You whimpered, crawling further from the edge, fingers curling into the back of his uniform, clutching at it hard enough for your knuckles to turn white.

“Don’t hurt him. Please,” you begged.

“You mean like you didn’t hurt me?” A high childish giggle, “I don’t think so.”

Lars grasped his gun, pulling it free. Levelling it at Lizzy, he was slow to stand, pulling you with him. Standing close, you wanted to stop him but you were terrified she was going to hurt him.

“Alright, there’s no need to get aggressive,” Lars said, clearly trying to calm the situation.

“She hurt me,” she said, “now I’m going to hurt her. And then she’ll be with me forever just like she promised.”

He raised his gun higher, keeping himself between you and her. She rose higher, then, using the same move, swooped down. He didn’t hesitate, firing the proton stream at her. It wrapped around her, holding her in place. The enraged scream that came from her hurt you, like a brand burned on your inside.

“I need the trap,” he said, glancing back at you.

Sweat was beading at his temples as he held her and you felt frozen. Her anger was so visceral, struggling against the proton stream. Her scream was pure rage.

“Hey.”

He finally caught your attention, his voice softened as he looked at you from behind glass.

“Trap,” he said.

You fumbled with the trap hanging from your belt. Sliding it along the floor, you looked up at Lizzy, knowing this would be it. She wouldn’t move on. She’d be trapped, kept in storage to be studied by people like Lars. And yet you had to, if you wanted to keep her from hurting the people you cared about.

“I’m sorry,” you said to her.

His foot slammed down on the trigger, opening it. Her rage was like a physical thing, her struggle increasing. And she looked like a little girl, scared, terrified, of where she was being forced into. Lars dragged her down until the trap’s vacuum sucked her in.

It closed with a snap and you were left in silence. You fell, knees slamming into the metal walkway, your sobs loud in your own ears. You pressed the heel of your palms to your eyes, trying to stifle it all.

A large hand landed on your shoulder, offering the stability you didn’t have. Lars was kneeling in front of you, ignoring the smoking trap behind him, his eyes focused completely on you. You took a deep shuddering breath in, trying to stop crying. He waited, patient until you were calmer.

“Are you hurt?” he asked, eyes sweeping over you.

“No.” Your voice was so small.

“This ghost seemed to know you,” he said.

You gave a small nod, scared what admitting your past crimes would do. It terrified you.

“You’ve met her before?” he asked.

You gave a wet chuckle. His thumb gently brushed the tears away.

“Lars, I created her,” you said, “I did that to her.”

“What do you mean?” he asked.

And just like that the whole sorry story tumbled from your lips, words tripping over themselves in their haste to be told. The fire when you were five, consuming the house, burning it to the ground. Lizzy caught inside, you pulled free, your best friend gone. The fact you caused the fire. Your haunting. Every attempt to help her move on and the anger at your part in her death. The resentment in the assumption you’d done it on purpose. The guilt you carried with you every day. The fear of who you were, if you were a monster, if you were an awful person.

And once the words had run out he did the one thing you couldn’t have expected.

His lips were soft when they pressed to your forehead. You froze, not sure what to do, heart fluttering. Large hands cupped your cheeks, forcing you to look at him.

“It was an accident. You’ve been trying to help her move on. You’re not a monster. You’re trying your best to make it up to her,” he said.

You fell forward, sinking into him, face pressed into his shoulder. His arms were hesitant as they came up, circling your body.

“I couldn’t save her,” you said, muffled against his shoulder.

“We’ll help her move on,” he said, “I promise.”

You pressed harder against him, hugging him tight, surprised by how light you felt after your confession. A problem shared was a problem halved. His lips pressed to your temple, soft and comforting and making you feel something addictive.

“I promise,” he whispered.

You turned your head, nose brushing against his. He froze, those beautiful blue eyes looking at you, something in them different. You lent forward, pressing your lips to his for a moment. It might have been the wrong time, but you’d almost died that night and you needed him to know. You drew back, worried about his reaction but the look on his face was like he’d just been let in on all the secrets of the universe. Like he was full of wonder. Like you’d given the greatest gift in the world.

He pulled you closer again, lips brushing yours with a sweetness that made your heart squeeze. You sighed into his mouth, clutching at his uniform. He was so warm under your hands and he was so beautiful and you couldn’t work out why you’d taken so long to kiss him.

“Oi, what’s this?”

You startled, pulling back from him. Trevor was looking less than impressed at the two of you, glaring down the walkway to your bodies curled into one another.

“We’re doing all the work over here and you’ve snuck away to hook up. Typical.” You could just tell he was rolling his eyes.

“I almost died. Give me a break,” you called back at him.

Lars froze in your arms. He pulled away, standing up, offering you a hand to help you to your feel. Your knees still felt unsteady, his arm around your waist helping you along. Plucking the smoking trap from the ground, he attached it to your belt.

“I promise,” he said again, confirming he wasn’t going to be spilling your secrets to the others.

You offered him a small smile, your first since the attack. He pulled you closer, another kiss pressed to your temple. You could have just melted from it.

The extra squeeze he gave you was exactly what you needed.

[welcome-leon]

Ask game: sunbathing

Nini this one got away from me and I wanna thank you for it bc it had me in the feels 🥺

sunbathing (Leon + Piers)

The bespectacled doctor looks annoyed to see him. “He’s out in the quad.”

Leon nods his thanks and retreats without further words, ducking into the elevator just as someone exits and jabbing the button. He's too eager to leave by far. The research wing isn’t med bay, something he’d thought he’d be grateful for only an hour ago, but as the doors close on a sterile white hallway he lets out a long breath. The hair on the back of his neck is standing up. The stench of anaesthetic and recycled air. White coats on white coats on white. He’s been in too many underground labs at this point, and it’s a discomforting realisation that they’re all the same - even within the BSAA.

It’s only four floors before he reaches ground level but rising from beneath the earth feels more suffocating than cruising down to meet it. He focusses on his breath.

The quad is easy to find. A spacious but lacklustre area filled with recruits running drills, penned in on three sides by a BSAA building tall enough to block out the sun. Practical. Lifeless, despite the life huffing and puffing against hard-packed dirt. Leon trails the edge of one wall, scanning the area for a familiar face. Captains pacing before their charges, soldiers with their chins lifted, the pounding of boots - it brings back memories. Leon keeps searching faces and tries not to think about it.

He makes it to the edge of sunlight an inch before it slices his boots. Before him sprawls an expanse of gravel and stubborn weeds, fading into a lazy tree line. There isn't much past this point, and he nearly turns back for a second pass of the quad before his eyes trace parallel tracks in the dirt.

Piers faces the sun. Slumped within a well-used wheelchair, he’s almost drowning beneath an overlarge hoodie and a pale blanket - the same kind of one that decorates hospital beds and the laps of the desperately ill. His familiar brown spikes are bisected with a dark elastic strap, wrapped taut beneath one ear and around the neat trim of his hair. He's unmoving, and even from behind Leon can tell that he's too skinny. In spite of the sun, Leon feels a sharp chill make its home in his vertebrae.

Chris had refused to let Piers die. Not for the first time, Leon wonders if saving lives is always merciful.

Yet as he approaches, rounds the side of the dusty wheels, he catches sight of serenity. The afternoon light paints Piers’ skin to almost its usual colour, a wash of warm beige across raw scars and sunken eyes. His lips are chapped, his cheeks gaunt, and there’s too many track marks on his neck, but his expression is peaceful. It’s been a long year for Leon, and he wonders how long it’s felt for Piers.

As is his way, he opens with a joke.

“Sunbathing?

Dark lashes, long enough to cast shadows across his cheekbones, open. Just the one eye, glancing up at him with tired but focussed attention. If Piers is surprised at his presence, he doesn’t show it.

“Maybe.” His voice is rough, but not the way Leon remembers it. Not laced through with steel, echoing off warehouse walls, burning through anger. Rough like rotted wood. Rough like he's been screaming too much. “First time I’ve been above ground," he rasps. "Forgot what it felt like.”

Christ.

Leon tries not to react. Yet despite the sun and the eyepatch and the remnants of saving the world in his veins, Piers remains an eagle-eyed sniper, and Leon doesn’t realise his fingers have clenched into tight fists until he hears:

“Don’t blame the BSAA.”

Leon lets out a breath. Says, “Why not?”

“I’m a BOW, Agent Kennedy,” Piers replies. Even. Leon doesn’t know him well enough to tell whether it’s forced or not. "No matter what Chris tells you.”

A year ago, Leon would have called it a necessary evil to keep a man like Piers under constant supervision. A virus is a virus is a virus. He’s been in this life too long to take chances, no matter his personal sentiments. But now, seeing the once proud young man looking so small in his chair, muscles atrophied from being confined to a bed, speaking and breathing and enduring like every human he’s every known, Leon can’t help but wonder.

“It’s not so bad,” says Piers, interrupting his thoughts. “I’ve got a sun lamp and everything."

He can't quite believe the smile on the Piers' lips but it's there. Soft. Wry. Impossible. But maybe seeing real sunlight after a year beneath the earth has put him in a good mood, so if he can crack a smile, maybe Leon can too.

"Like a lizard?" he asks.

"Yeah." Piers closes his eye and basks in the light. "Didn't get a big rock though. Budget cuts."

Leon’s laugh feels pulled from his chest like venom from a bite. Painful and necessary.

They remain in the sun. Piers breathes it in like it can store it in his lungs. The shouts from the quad remain a distant echo. Leon can’t quite bear to step away.

Piers will need to go back to the lab eventually. Leon will need to return to his hotel. But for now, they soak in the afternoon light, and feel.

[got-into-worm-by-mistake]

Gestation 1.3 Live Reactions

(This is me, writing reactions as I read, because why the fuck not. They're not complete, mature thoughts taken after I sit back and evaluate what I've read. Consider them as such)

My training schedule consisted of running every morning and every other afternoon.  In the process, I had picked up a pretty good knowledge of the east side of the city.  Growing up in Brockton Bay, my parents had told me stuff like “stick to the Boardwalk”.  Even on my runs, I had scrupulously stayed on the Boardwalk and avoided the bad part of town.  Now it was Sunday night and I was in costume and breaking the rules.

Running off the boardwalk in the middle of the night in costume looking for crime to fight feels like the least of your rulebreaking, Taylor.

Just moving from one block to the next, you could see the change in the area.  As I made my way into the Docks, I could see the quality of my surroundings decline steeply.  There were enough warehouses and apartments in the area for even the most destitute to find shelter, so the only people on the streets were unconscious drunks, whores and gang members.  I steered clear of any and all people I saw and ventured further into the area.

I always love it in stories where the setting becomes a character, and from what I hear, that's definitely going to be the case for the city of Brockton Bay.

 Anyone paying attention to the local cockroach population might think something was up,

That, I think, would be a list that would include exactly zero people at this point. Even exterminators wouldn't be 'paying attention' to the cockroach population, per se.

I knew who these guys were.  They were members from the local gang that left the tags ‘Azn Bad Boys’, ABB for short, all over the East end of the city.  More than a few went to my school.  As far as the criminal element in Brockton Bay went, they weren’t small potatoes.  While the typical gang members were just Koreans, Japanese, Vietnamese and Chinese forcibly recruited from Brockton Bay’s high schools and lower class neighborhoods, the gang was led by a couple of people with powers.  Gangs didn’t tend to be that racially inclusive as far as who joined, so it said something that their leader had the ability to draw in members from so many different nationalities and keep them in line.

Ah yes, the ABB. One of the parts of Worm that I gather ages poorly, and may not have been all that well thought out. But that's hardly surprising, nor a black mark against Wildbow or Worm.

As for it being so ethnically diverse, I'd say that has as much to do with how everyone is grouped together under the 'Asian' heading here in the US, rather than Lung being particularly open-minded. Though I could be wrong.

He went by ‘Lung’, had successfully gone toe to toe with whole teams of heroes and had managed to keep himself out of jail, as evidenced by his presence here.  As for his powers, I only knew what I could scrounge up online, and there were no guarantees there.  I mean, for all I knew, he could have misled people about what his powers did, he could have a power he was keeping up his sleeve for an emergency, or he could even have a very subtle power that people couldn’t see at work.

Another cool choice, especially given what I gather is Taylor's penchant for Puzzle-boss wins later on, as it were. Also one of the reasons why information really is so vitally useful in Worm, and how Taylor's powers are key for that.

Most conventional superhero verses I'm familiar with definitely lend themselves more to an approach where a supervillain or superhero's powerset is largely established - obviously DC and Marvel can't avoid that, but even other superhero media seems to have that too.

But the internet is full of lies, mistakes and misrepresentations. Really makes you wonder what the in-universe wikipedia entry for Superman is like tho.

I decided to move away from where I was and find a better vantage point to monitor their conversation, which seemed like a good compromise between my curiosity and my self preservation. 

Very fair. Going against the fire-breathing armored dude who can eventually become a dragon does seem hazardous to one's health.

They were going to kill kids?

And so the Wormverse turns. Had she not heard the word 'Children', or had Lung used a different word, or just said 'The Undersiders' or whatever...

1.3 doesn't really seem to have a whole lot going on honestly but it isn't nothing, and sometimes you just need a bit of a bridging chapter.

[hikariyuushiart]

Elevator Girl and Mr. Crawling

Her first stop on the route. Or more accurately, the first one to greet her as soon as the elevator doors opened. It really did never seem like he ever left that spot whenever she left. The Elevator Girl would've thought he would've considered sticking around Mr. Chopped and Mr. Silvair's area for safety reasons, or perhaps tagging along with Mr. Hood to try and help others in case there were other live humans down here.

But no, there he was, not even giving her a moment to greet him first before he immediately pounced on her. Despite him usually looking so small while he was crawling, the Elevator Girl knew all too well how much he loomed over her when standing up. This meant that his pounce practically pinned her to the back of the elevator, long lanky arms wrapped around her as he laughed giddily.

"You! You! I happy you return!" he joyfully announced as she laughed in response, gently patting on his shoulders. He truly was so adorable when he got like this. Still, she couldn't let him think she wasn't appreciative of his affection, so she gave him a quick, very tight squeeze around his mid-section before finally letting go to smile up at him.

"I know, I know! I happy see you again!" she giggled, gently pushing at his shoulder to motion for him to finally let her out of the elevator. Once he complied, she was able to wheel out her red wagon, filled with boxes upon boxes of items to be delivered to the various residents of the Ghost Apartments.

"You safe? You happy? Where go?" Mr. Crawling asked, tilting his head. Although she'd gone into the elevator and come back a few times before by now, he still wasn't completely sure of what this other place was that she was going to. Either way, he was always more than grateful that she was coming back to speak with him. More friendly faces and voices was always welcome in his book.

The Elevator Girl hummed in thought, trying to think of the best way to answer his question. Due to the highly restrictive nature of the language, certain concepts were still highly difficult to convey. Still, she thought herself clever enough to at least attempt to get the general gist across.

"Hmm... I safe. I happy. I go... 'object-give' room," she eventually settled on. How else would she describe her place of employment? It was a large delivery company, where she specifically worked at a fulfillment warehouse where all the various items that were being sold were packed up, sealed, and sorted to be delivered. "Lots, lots of object. I pick up object, lots of object. Give other people object." She blinked before grinning turning to rummage through the boxes to open one up. "Want to see object I give you?"

Mr. Crawling immediately gasped, pointing to himself as if in disbelief. "Give me object?" he clarified.

She giggled, "Correct, you."

It wasn't long before she pulled out a beautiful ornamental comb, topped off with an intricate fake blue flower on top. As she showed it to Mr. Crawling, he tilted his head slightly.

There was something oddly familiar about the object, but he just couldn't place it. He certainly couldn't name it. But if the Elevator Girl thought he'd like it, he would accept it graciously. After all, it wasn't every day he received a gift of any sort.

"Object...?" he asked quietly.

She smiled warmly at him with a light nod, walking up to him. "Cute object."

With that, she gently placed it in his hair, stepping back to admire the image. His hair was still a bit of a mess, but at least the blue flower seemed to make him seem a bit more handsome? Beautiful? She wasn't sure what the proper would for it would be. But there was one she knew he would understand.

"You cute," she giggled.

He immediately understood, laughing along with her in response.

"I cute! Thank you!"

The two laughed and enjoyed each other's company as she slowly started to walk down the halls, Mr. Crawling following not too far behind. Now for her to make her rounds to everyone she knew...

[foone]

The Four Candles

I got kicked out of the SCP foundation after wasting over 80 million dollars to contain an artifact that I genuinely thought was incredibly dangerous. It was a set of candles in a gold frame, which never burnt down and could not be extinguished. Just weird, right?

(reposting of a formerly-twitter thread where I made up an SCP fanfic joke, under the readmore)

That's what we all thought and it was simply kept in a safety glass box in one of the many warehouses of weird things, until The First Event. January, 1981, it's being moved as part of a cleanup and someone notices its changed: one of the candles is out.

We'd previously tried sticking this thing in a vacuum, under water, smothering it in CO2 or in a pile of asbestos… Nothing. You can't snuff out these candles. And one just went off while no one is looking? That can't be good.

So obviously we have to upgrade this thing in severity. Out of the warehouse, into a separate containment area, and we do endless tests. Nope, we can't relight it. We tried.

But now we've got 24/7 redundant monitoring, cameras and guards, we've got water and fire and everything else on hand in case another event happens and we need to try to douse or relight it in a hurry.

And we wait. Endless beta tapes (and later, hard drives) are filled up with footage of these candles burning unchangingly. Guards get assigned to watch it and then retire a decade later, having never seen it change.

But 20 years into observation, a second candle just goes out, without any fuss. We hit every panic button we can find.

Endless studies are done. This thing was found in a ruin in North West England? Send every researcher we can spare there. Are there any legends or folklore or stories or ANYTHING about this?

Because it took 20 years to go from 3 to 2. We can do math. If this thing is counting down at a steady pace, we have only 40 years to get ready for the last candle to go out.

And we don't know what happens then.

Maybe nothing.

Or maybe there will be nothing left.

We work backwards; we only found the candles in the 70s, but if it goes down by a candle every two decades, then maybe it was created in the early 60s? We search for any clues about what might have happened in the 1960s in Manchester and Liverpool.

I'm on the ground with another field researcher when I get a message that we're all being recalled, immediately. No explanation.

I get back to the foundation site and all my researchers are being reassigned. My boss wants to talk to me. I check the candle monitoring site on my phone: we're still on two. I'm confused.

I enter my boss's office. It's uncharacteristically dark. She slides me a printout, on fan fold paper still with the little dot matrix tractor holes along the sides. It's an email.

Another researcher had a random hunch, and looked into the monitoring records, specifically as to when the second candle went out. November 29th, 2001. And the previous one was unknown, but happened sometime between December 1st, 1980 and mid-January 1981.

My boss asks if these dates look familiar to me, and if I listen to much music.

I think I may know. She tells me they were able to confirm the second event happened within 5 minutes of the time of death.

The candles are going back in the warehouse, and only a simple webcam will be used to monitor for the next event, just in case it proves us wrong.

And she gives me a lecture about how the purpose of the SCP Foundation is to secure, contain, and protect... From dangerous anomalous artifacts and people and places. Things that break all our scientific theories and could cause untold devastation if they get loose...

NOT A MAGIC CANDLE THAT TELLS YOU HOW MANY LIVING BEATLES THERE ARE IN THE WORLD AT THE MOMENT.

[that1fangirrl]

The Mission

cw: violence(like a lot), gunshots, fire trauma, blind talk, daddy issues and childhood trauma(kinda)...

Matt was having a bit of a hard week. The case he and his partners were working on was making no progress. Everytime they thought they found something new, it was a dud. Every night, it left him plagued with frustration. Not even his favorite cheap beer could soothe him. So he did the next best thing. He grabbed his suit and looked over his city. It was fairly quiet tonight. His ears perked at the sound of some guys in an alley talking. “We’re meeting at 2. If you’re late, you’re dead. You tell anyone about this? You and them, dead. You understand?” The other two nodded. Matt wondered what they were talking about. “It’s a deal over on the docks.” A woman's voice passed through his ears. There weren’t any additional heartbeats in the area. “They have a headquarters near here too. On 45th and 6th.” Matt looks on in confusion. Who the fuck is talking to him? Are they talking to him? “Yes, I’m talking to you. Red suit with the horns. Let’s get a move on please. They’re meeting right now.” Following the voice’s instruction, albeit confused and disturbed, he traveled close behind the group. Just like the voice said, the guys were meeting with a few others on some docks. They had a new shipment of drugs under the guise of medicinal prescriptions.Just what he was looking for. He jumped down, taking the men out one by one. A few guns were fired,but dodged with ease. 

When Matt got home that night, he laid on his couch in confusion again. Who was that lady talking to him? And why was she helping him? His aching body walks over to his bathroom, showering off his thoughts and calling it a night. Luckily, it was a Friday, so he didn’t have to work tomorrow. The next morning, a knock at his door shot him out of bed. He groggily opens the door, half naked and hair a mess. “I’m guessing you aren’t a morning person.” That voice sounded familiar. “Yes, that was me last night. I’m sorry about all of that, but you needed the push. And to make up for it and probably explain a little bit of this to you, I brought coffee and donuts.” You raised your hands up. Matt moves aside, letting you in. He walks back to his room, grabbing a shirt. You slowly walk into the apartment, taking in the area. 

He meets you at the kitchen table, folding his arms. “Now talk.” You sip your drink, “well firstly, my name is y/n Xavier. My father is Charles Xavier or Professor X.” “Like the mutant?” “Yeah. And like my dad, I also am a telepath. I can also see the future. And I've been seeing you in my dreams lately. You’re working on that pharmaceutical case, right?” He nods. “Well. I know you’ve been hitting multiple walls with it. So I thought I’d tell you what I know. Hence why I told you about the new deal the other night.” He stops you, “What do you want in return? Why help me? We don’t even know each other. For all I know, you could be taking the drugs for yourself.” “I’m not, I swear. And you would know if I was lying. I don’t want anything in return. I just want to help you out. I have reason to believe that someone is trying to experiment on mutants with these exact same drugs. Maybe I could go with you on your next patrol.” Matt takes it all in. You weren’t lying about anything that you’ve said. It wouldn’t hurt to try this out. “Fine. When’s the next deal?” “In a few days, but maybe we could go to their headquarters tonight. They usually keep it closed up on the weekends. It’s an old warehouse building. I can meet you there. I have a suit and I know some combat, so don’t worry about any of that.” “Okay.” 

The shipping warehouse was colder than outside. It felt like a huge meat locker. Both you and Matt were looking for just about anything that could help his case. He was on one side of the building and you, the other. No one was guarding the place, surprisingly. It left you a little on edge. At the end of one of the halls, you found an office. Before entering, you put up a hand and listened for what could be behind it. A large desk, chair, lamp, and cabinets filled with files. You slowly open the door, trying not to make a sound. “I found an office over here. I’m gonna check out the files.” You signal to Matt. He nods, continuing to look around for where the drugs might be stored. He finds another room leading to a staircase. Listening for your safe movements first, he creeps down the steps. It’s even colder now. Maybe a basement. He continues to walk around the quiet area. 

In the office, you touch each cabinet to see inside. Nothing has caught your eyes yet. Just old documents about the building. You head to the desk to check its drawers. “Got ya!” You whisper. Previous transactions, patients and orders, just what you were looking for. Unfortunately, you can’t open the drawer. It’s locked. You feel around for a key, hoping one of the goons just left it nearby. “Looking for this?” You snap around. One of the guys from the other night stands in the doorway. You can hear him dangling the keys. He launches at you. Your body moves a second slower, trying to duck under him. His large arms wrap around your body, a hand over your mouth muffles your screams. “Who are you here with?” You shake your head. “No one.” He slams your head into the wall. “Don’t lie! Who else is here?” Tears prick your eyes. You can’t just rat Matt out like that. You could just tell him where the papers are and he can turn them in. “No one. I swear. I came alone.” “Playing dumb, huh? Fine, I’ll play.” He slams your head harder into the wall, successfully knocking you out. 

The door leading to the basement stairs opens, alerting Matt. He quickly hides in one of the darker halls. The guy coming down the stairs seems to be holding something.Your unconscious body. Cursing to himself, he devises a plan. The guy grabs his phone, dialing a number and raising it to his ear. “Bring the others. I found us a new toy to play with.” In one arm, he continues hauling your body around the room and talking on the phone. Two more guys come down the stairs. They each grab something to tie you down with. One with a rope, the other holding you and another with a chair. “She’s a looker. Got a little body on her.” Your body slumps in the chair and is tied down. They stare down at you. “You think she’s one of them?” “Who cares? She should've been minding her business.” The leader looks at the two arguing men, “just get the syringe and let’s hurry up. It’s already enough she got this far.” 

Your eyes blink open slowly.The leader sits across from you. They close just as quickly. “Awww. Rise and shine darlin’. Sleep well? Is the light too bright?” He taunts. You let out a soft groan. “Come on baby. Show me those pretty eyes.” He stands in front of you, forcing your face towards him. “Open them. Now!” You slowly open your eyes. “Just as I thought. How many, huh? Can you see this?” He holds up a few fingers. You stay silent. “Mhhh. Guess not.” A loud bang comes from one of the rooms. He groans loudly, taking out a gun from his pocket and cocking it. “If they can’t do it themselves, I guess I’ll have to handle it. Stay here for me sweets. Try not to move too much.” He walks away, leaving you in the cold room. 

Tears start to fall again. Your dad was right. You’d never be ready for any missions. Having one sense less than others made you weak. You're knocked out of your thoughts at the sound of more banging. This time with gunshots following them. You prayed Matt hadn’t gotten himself shot. You couldn’t even reach him telepathically since that guy bashed your head in so hard. You could barely even think. Your legs start to shuffle on the floor. Those goons tied you up pretty good. You can barely move. Panic starts to settle in as the sounds stop. Your body thrashes in the chair, feeling a presence getting closer. 

“Hey. Hey, It’s just me.” Matt’s familiar calm voice rang in your ears. He sounded farther away, but with his head lightly touching your shoulder, you knew he was by your side. He bends down, cutting the ties from your body. “I didn’t leave you. I’m right here.” Your body drops in the chair, head falling back. Matt listens for your pulse. You’re okay. He picks up your body, making his way out of the warehouse. His other hand digs for his burner phone, calling Claire. “I need your help. Meet at mine.” 

You wake up sprawled on an unfamiliar couch. Panic kicks back in, thinking you're still in the warehouse. You calm back down when you hear Matt softly talking to you. Your eyes roll open, trying to find some form of comfort in the lighting. He caresses your hand with his thumb. “I’m right here. We’re in my apartment again. You’re okay.” Another person’s thoughts scroll past you. “Who else is here? Did you call someone?” He looks in Claire’s direction. “Claire’s a friend. I called her to make sure you were okay. She checked you over. She’s a nurse.” You try to nod your head, but are met with pain. The last thing you remember was that guy smashing your face and waking up in a chair. “You don’t want to move too much. You’ve got a concussion and fractured wrist. And there’s a few bruises on your arms and neck.” You put up a thumb, not wanting to move any more than you have. “Thank you.” Claire nods, packing up her bag. “I left some painkillers on the table. Just take one in the morning and rest your body. You should feel better in about a week. And if your wrist still hurts after that, give me a call.” “Thank you. Have a good night.” She returns a “good night” to you and heads to the door with Matt following behind. He says “thank you” for the hundredth time tonight and closes the door. 

Matt comes to sit in front of the couch. “How are you feeling?” A long sigh comes out. “I’m alive, so I guess I’m doing good. How are you feeling?” He hangs his head down, not knowing what to say. He didn’t want this to happen. Especially because you just met. “It’s not your fault, Matt. I wasn’t paying attention. Just be glad that we both got out alive. Okay?” You reach a hand out to caress his face. He leans into it. “This would’ve happened with or without you there. I just didn’t know how to stop it.” “I still shouldn’t have left you by yourself. He could’ve done worse. I’m so sorry.” You both aren’t gonna get anywhere if you keep apologizing to each other. You know that, so you change the topic off of you. “I was able to find something that could help. There were some documents that show proof of them buying product and using it. Maybe you could get it another day.” He nods. Right now, he just wants you to be okay. He can get the files later. You feel him pull away and stand up. “You should get some rest. I have some clothes you can wear. You can take the bed.” You carefully stand up, “no, I can take the couch. It’s pretty comfy.” Lie. “Don’t try to convince me otherwise. This is your place. You take the bed.” He reluctantly nods before grabbing a shirt, blanket and pillow. You're quietly guided to his bathroom. Behind the closed door, you struggle to undress with your broken hand. A wince or whine leaving your lips every now and then. He wants to help, but knows you probably won’t let him. You lift the shirt over your head with a sigh. For a second, you just stand there in the quiet space of his bathroom. Your thoughts are running wild, but you force them to be quiet until the morning. When you come out, Matt helps you back to the couch and you both call it a night. 

The next morning, a beam of light hitting your eyelids wakes you up. Your head still hurts, but feels a lot better than yesterday. You hear soft noises coming from the kitchen. Matt’s ears perk at the sound of your change in heart rate. “Morning. I grabbed us some breakfast.” You slowly rise from the couch, walking towards him in the kitchen. “I have an island, if you want to sit there. It’s a foot in front of you and the table is to your left.” You nod, taking a seat at the table. “I wasn’t sure what you liked to drink in the morning, so I got you something based on the drink you had last time.” He comes to sit with you at the table, placing the food and drinks on top. You let out a quiet “thank you,” before digging in. Matt also quietly eats his food and tries to start up a conversation. He has been pretty curious about one thing since last night. “I hate to ask, but how long have you been blind?” You hum. He figured it out. “I heard the guys from last night talking about your eyes, but I didn’t think much of it. And then Claire told me you had an off gaze.” You swallow a mouthful of food and clear your throat. “Since I was 12. There was a huge explosion at the manor. I was pretty close to it, trying to tell everyone what I saw before it happened. Unfortunately, I was a bit too late and well… Now I live like this.” It’s heartbreaking to hear someone else has gone through a similar experience as him. Matt reaches to place his hand on yours. Almost like he’s telling you he understands and is there for you. “I’m not as cool as you though. Having heightened senses is a lot more handy than telepathy and clairvoyance in some cases. I can only hear thoughts from about a 10 mile radius. My dad can hear them up to maybe 2 or 3 hundred miles away.” The two of you continue talking for a while, finishing up your food and cleaning up. 

Matt lets you stay with him for longer. Claiming that he just wants to be sure you’re okay before you go back home. You don’t live very far, but the thought of leaving a safe space is harder than one thinks. When he leaves for work, he promises to call and drop by for lunch. But you tell him that you’ll be fine and just the call will do. Later in the afternoon, you start to get a bit antsy. You're woken up by a vision. Matt going back to the warehouse to look for those files. You can’t tell if he needs help or not. So when he finally does get home, you ambush him. “Don’t go out tonight. I already know you’re gonna try to go back to that warehouse. Don’t. Stay here. Please.” He can hear how accelerated your heartbeat is. You physically shake at the thought of him going out tonight. He hugs you close, bringing your head to his chest to hear his calmer heartbeats. His hands run through your hair and down your back in a soothing manner. “I won’t. I’ll stay here. I promise.” He whispers to you. You start to calm down and sink into him more. “How about we grab some dinner tonight. You don’t even have to dress up. We can just wear some of my sweats and go to a diner or something. That sound okay?” You nod against his chest. 

Here you both are, sitting in a booth with the baggiest sweats on and eating your food. The waitress taking your order calls you a cute couple. Neither you or Matt correct her. She mutters to herself how God has a funny way of putting two people alike together. Both you and Matt smile at that. You had been getting a bit closer to one another over the past few days. Everything you did together felt so right. Waking up and having breakfast, waiting for him to come home from work, having dinner, then going to bed. All while still making time to actually talk to each other. Matt was a great companion. He was supportive and understanding of all the things you’ve told him. He never went against his promises to you. You grew another kind of respect and trust for each other. Never did you think you’d be in a place like this again. Having a sense of community with another person. It felt good. You wanted to keep feeling good. And with Matt in the picture, you were going to.

A/N:Real talk this was so hard to write. I didn't really know how I wanted to make this. But I somehow pulled this together. Also cat is out of the bag. The secret about the character was that she's also blind. I thought that would be kinda interesting 🤷🏽‍♀️. I honestly love this character tbh. I might have to do a part 2 of them actually getting together. Let me know if you want that too. I hope you guys enjoyed this. Feedback is always encouraged. K, bye <3

[goldenfreddys]

september '04, cont.—hangin' with the unloved kids

When Nadia arrived, the front entrance of Freddy’s was locked, and there was still no word from Jeremy. She peered through the glass, scanning the main party room for clues. There was the movement of a door swinging shut as a figure walked into a fenced off play area at one end, though she didn’t catch a good look. She squinted, then walked back to her car.

There were no other cars in the parking lot. Nadia opened the trunk, briefly considered smashing the entrance open with her tire iron. Bad idea, given there was a camera out front and it would draw attention. Kneeling out in the open to pick the lock was out of the question, too. She grabbed her backpack and hefted it over her shoulder, then locked the trunk.

For the past few weeks, she’d been working at a hardware store in the area, processing orders and moving stock around in the warehouse. She remembered a coworker complaining about having to prepare a big order of various machinery, screws, brackets, clamps and wiring for Fazbear Ent. which were listed in very specific quantities. Naturally, this meant the building had some sort of docking area to receive the supplies.

She yawned, pulling her hood up as she made her way to the back end of the pizzeria. Her dusty converse crunched against the gravel driveway that led around to small bay door. To her relief, there was only one security camera back there, which was too caked in dirt to function. There was also a regular single-person entrance before the corner with an “authorized personal only” sign above it.

A laminated piece of hot pink paper written in comic sans read: Pinpad broken. Key in the mailbox. DO NOT misplace it. Thanks, Sean.

As promised, there was a key in the box beside the door. Nadia let herself in, then tucked it in her pocket. As expected, it led into a storage garage, which had doors into, according to the scuffed plaques, a kitchen and a parts & service room. There was a corkboard beside the kitchen door, with more printed notices from ‘Sean’ ranging from reminders that smoking must be confined to the designated area and away from view of clientele, to warnings about certain employees failing to properly record their break time, to legal disclaimers and safety procedures.

Cautiously, Nadia tried the door to the kitchen. It was definitely locked. She then moved to the parts & service entrance. The handle seized partway, but opened with a bit of applied force.

How spooky, she mused. A couple badly damaged animatronics were slumped around the room, which was cluttered with various robotic parts and costume pieces. There was a tangible sense of impending doom fluttering around in her chest. She imagined her friends at the movies, watching her as the protagonist of some annual slasher reboot, saying “Boo, bitch! Why is she doing that?”

Nadia started humming to herself, nervously, as she crept through the room.

“He was a boy, she was a girl, can I make it anymore obvious?” she sang under her breath, “He was depressed, she was insane- what more can I say?”

She reached the other side of the room without incident, eyeing the broken down robots as she slipped out. It was hard to shrug off the fear that something really bad had happened to Jeremy. She chewed on her hoodie string as she continued across the party room, towards the area she saw the figure. The checkered tile seemed familiar, somehow. Vague memories of Ms. Fitzgerald’s family photos came to mind. This was Jeremy’s hometown, he'd told her. That he always thought about maybe moving back after graduating, but never had the nerve to consider it for real.

Suddenly, a large gift box by the prize counter jostled. Nadia froze, staring at it. The lid opened, slowly, and a marionette peeked its painted face out. It stared back at her for a moment, before beckoning her over and disappearing back inside the box. She glanced around, then cautiously approached the box. The puppet emerged, again, and held out a checkered, holographic pink slap bracelet.

“For me?” Nadia asked, smiling despite herself.

The puppet nodded, carefully snapping it around her wrist. Nadia struck a goofy pose to flaunt her new accessory.

“Why, thank you. You shouldn’t have.”

The puppet turned its head to the play area. There was a small clatter from the dark, then the sound of screws rolling across the floor. Nadia walked closer to the sound, gripping the shoulder strap of her bag. There was someone in there, trying to gather the screws back up. She strained to get a better look.

The figure froze for a moment, then scrambled to their feet and whipped around. Their eyes caught the light like freshly minted dimes— Nadia was suddenly unsure if it was a person at all. She took a step back. The figure lunged forward, catching against the wall just short of where she stood. They flicked a switch.

Kid’s Cove lit up with warm, fluorescent light.

Not Jeremy, Nadia realized, but uncannily similar. She let a sharp breath out and let her shoulders fall. The girl had the same brown, freckled skin and dark curly hair, though hers was seemingly tied into a loose ponytail. She briefly imagined an underpaid cartoonist pasting big eyelashes on her boyfriend before calling it a day.

“Um, miss? We’re not open until nine.” the girl’s face was expressionless, though she was evidently startled.

Nadia decided to take things one problem at a time, admitting, “I was supposed to pick someone up, but I can’t find him, so…”

“So you… Broke in?”

“I think it’s more like spontaneous urban exploration, but yeah.”

She smiled approvingly, “Okay, metal. You can call me Chucky, I work in maintenance. Your name?”

Behind her, a tangled mess of metal limbs and animatronic pieces jostled, sending a few more screws from the spilled pile on the floor rolling away.

“Nadia… Uh, what’s over there?”

Chucky turned and walked back to the tangled animatronic heap. She swept the screws away with her hand and kneeled down next to it, “Toy Foxy, captain of Kid’s Cove.”

A fuzzy off-white snout flopped across Chucky’s lap with a creak. She gave it a pat, before turning her head to stare at Nadia.

“But her enemies call her… The Mangle.” She stated, dourly, fluttering her fingers for dramatic effect.

“... Somehow, the tots here are really good at disassembling him while we’re not looking, but my supervisor said he doesn’t want me wasting time on it, anymore. So, I like to come in early and see what I can do before opening time- just, y’know… Making sure he’s mobile and there’s no sharp edges poking out, anywhere… What was the name of the employee you're looking for?”

“Jeremy.”

“Journey Fokker, Catering…? No, that's not right… You mean Jeremiah Fitzgerald, overnight security!”

Nadia hummed in agreement.

“Right. Mike said he was giving him a ride, earlier. Had a rough shift, or something… He’s daytime security, but he's been sitting in overnight to make sure the rookie has everything down.”

“So Mike drove him home?” Nadia asked.

“Probably. He's been bitching up-and-down about the guy for days, but it's just tough love.”

Chucky got to her feet and smiled fondly, hitting Nadia with a weird sense of deja vu. Her brow furrowed as she rooted around in her head, looking for what she was reminded of. Maybe it was the angle, the lighting, or the position of the name tag on her jumpsuit.

A little tiny Ghostbuster on the front lawn, dated October ‘88. Charlotte and her brother, ready to trick-or-treat.

“This is a crazy question, but like… Did you ever have a twin brother? Maybe?”

“Yeah,” Chucky’s poker face returned, “... Why?”

[skarsgazing]

Obsidian - Chapter 1

In the dimly lit corridor, as her footsteps echoed through the walls, Mia contemplated the distance growing between her and the only life she had ever known. It wasn't just a geographical shift; it was a plunge into the unknown, a journey she didn't choose.

“You’re late,” a gray haired woman blasted as the door swung open, her eyes scrutinizing Mia from head to toe with an air of judgment. 

“Sorry, I couldn’t find a ta-" Mia started, only to have a pile of clothes thrown at her, landing on her and cascading to the floor. “The hell?!”

“On set in 4 minutes. Third-floor room 7. Pick that up and bring the samples,” the older woman declared coldly before grabbing something and exiting the room.

Mia Hastings never quite fit the mold her family crafted for her. She wasn't easily defined, but it was clear what she wasn't: submissive and pliable. With flushed cheeks and a racing heart, she bit her lip while gathering the clothes strewn across the floor. 

“Bitch,” she whispered, mentally adding Miranda to her growing grudge list.

Ten minutes behind schedule, Mia reluctantly reached room 7, encountering Miranda once again and receiving the same disapproving glare.

“Late again, Amelia,” she snapped, guiding Mia back into the hallway almost aggressively. 

“I actually prefer Mia-”.

“Listen, I don't care about who you are or if you're here just to play around,” she gestured almost comically with her hands. “I have very strict orders from your father, you hear? Fuck this up and he will hear about it,” she warned before re-entering the room without a second glance.

Mia felt dizzy, she had this very real and urgent need to punch this woman so hard that it would create a time-space discontinuity. So she ran her fingers through her hair and took a deep breath before entering the room again, not without mentally cursing out her father at least a hundred times.

The moment Mia reentered room 7, chaos immediately seized her attention. She hadn't had a chance to process or inspect anything on her previous entrance, but now her eyes widened as the absence of yelling allowed her to fully absorb the bustling scene. Swarms of people were engrossed in various tasks related to set and costume design. Fabric, threads, samples, and mannequins were scattered throughout the space. Some were drawing, others were busy on computers, and a vibrant array of colors, designs, and concepts adorned almost every inch of the NY warehouse.

“You look like a lost puppy,” a voice remarked. Mia turned around to find a curly dark-haired young man with piercing green eyes, well-built and casually dressed in black jeans and a black shirt—seemingly the norm around here. Mia, in her fitted jeans, one-shoulder white shirt, and stilettos, clearly hadn't received the memo. 

“If you weren’t buried in that pile of clothes you’re carrying, I would’ve thought you were talent,” he joked, widening his eyes for emphasis.

“Zak,” he introduced himself, extending a warm hand to Mia, who reciprocated with a smile and a firm handshake.

“Mia,” she replied.

“Oh, I know. You’re here from Rust, no?” Zak continued, starting to walk while tilting his head to indicate Mia to follow along.

An almost nauseating feeling surged from Mia’s stomach to her head upon hearing her father’s fashion brand mentioned. “Old piece of shit,” she thought and simply nodded at Zak.

She followed the British young man through the bustling room, skillfully navigating around the numerous people passing by. Amidst the crowd, Mia spotted the now-familiar gray head of hair belonging to Miranda in a more secluded area, engaged in conversation with two others. 

Next to her, positioned on a podium in front of a tall mirror like a well-deserved trophy, stood a deliciously built dirty-blonde-haired man. All Mia could make out was his back—feet wide apart, as if unafraid to claim all the space in the world. He exuded a devilish height, seeming firmly rooted to the earth, and Mia resisted the urge to keep looking.

Mia felt a pair of hands gently squeezing her shoulders, and she realized she had been standing dumbfounded for longer than she’d like to admit, or would’ve preferred anyone to notice. Zak gave her a final squeeze before moving in front of her.

“Hem work, doll. You can help me with that,” he winked, taking the pile of clothes from her and strolling towards the other side of the room.

“H-O-T,” he silently mouthed, gesturing towards the tall man. Mia chuckled, a subtle gleam of light flashing through her eyes as she walked toward the podium after grabbing a bag of pins from the nearby work-station.

Her knees touched the ground before she could get a good look at the man in front of her, and her brows furrowed when she noticed that those pants really needed some work. With a pin in her hand, she carefully grabbed the remaining fabric and started folding it to estimate how much should be removed before even thinking about folding back and sewing down. She jumped a little when her pinky finger made contact with the bare skin of the man's ankle, accidentally poking him with the sharp pin.

Alexander gazed coolly down at her, offering a reassuring smile. Never in her entire life had Mia seen such a handsome man, and she had encountered her fair share of attractive people.

Collecting herself, Mia apologized, the obvious size difference making her blush even as she knelt. She looked up what felt like at least a whole four and a half feet to meet his gaze, smiling.

Picking up on the color in her cheeks, Alexander's eyes trailed over her features as she maintained eye contact. Her small frame starkly contrasted with Alexander’s massive size. Her hair, intentionally frenzied, framed the sides of her head and cascaded down her back to her waist with no particular order. Her tight clothes allowed him to paint a vivid mental image of her body. This little sweetheart was the last thing he expected to find when he looked down, and to say he was intrigued would be an understatement.

“Sorry, it’s my first day,” Mia lied -about the reason for her nervousness-. 

“Don’t worry, It’s my first day here as well,” Alexander joked, his gaze intent on her. 

She licked her lips, seemingly contemplating a response, and he felt his pants tighten a little. 

“Good fit?” Miranda interrupted. 

“Yeah, just a few adjustments, I think,” Alexander replied, his eyes still on Mia even as Miranda spoke to him. 

“Sorry again,” Mia apologetically smiled before taking a double take up at him, noticing a slight curl to his lips. It was so subtle that she wasn’t sure if it was just her eyes playing tricks on her. She resumed working on the hem, carefully folding and pinning it on the soft fabric. While Alexander conversed with Zak and Miranda, his voice resonated in Mia's ears, sounding soft yet deep, as if emanating from the depths of his chest.

However, Mia's tranquil moment was interrupted by the irritating sound of her full name. She looked up, more of a glare, and let out a big sigh as she rested her hands on her thighs, awaiting further instructions. Alexander couldn't help but notice Mia's fingers twitching on her lap as he observed her staring at the older woman, as if she were trying to contain herself. The subtle rhythm of her tapping fingers implicitly conveyed a growing frustration.

Miranda continued, motioning toward a pile of fabric samples that could easily be mistaken for a thousand little squares. "Zak will handle that. I want you to organize those, by fabric."

Mia shot a side-eye at Zak, who offered an apologetic smile, clearly finding the request ridiculous. Alexander's brows furrowed slightly, and then he raised them humorously as he noticed Mia's stilettos while she stood up -unusual. The air seemed to grow colder as she walked away, at least according to his perception.

For what felt like at least five hours, Mia found herself in another corner of the warehouse, meticulously touching, tagging, and organizing each small square of fabric. She attached them to a book, repeating the process over and over. The act of ordering brought her a sense of calm, much like cleaning and counting—a compulsion ingrained in her for as long as she could recall. Perhaps it was a coping mechanism, a small realm of control in a life that had always been tightly regulated.

While she worked, her thoughts drifted to her life back in Seattle, now seemingly distant. She reflected on the mistakes she had made this time, wondering if she could ever set things right. Despite her contemplation, her cheeks flushed, and her body trembled slightly at the thought of her father. He existed more like a distant planet in her mind, distorting everything around it with its own gravitational pull, rather than as a person.

As if summoned by her thoughts, the screen of Mia's phone lit up, displaying a message from him.

"Been trying to call in, pick up. Don't forget who's looking out for you."

Her attention shifted as footsteps approached from behind, and she turned just as the lights started going out, producing a loud noise. Zak's figure emerged, casting shadows as he walked toward her.

"So tell me, little heiress, what did you do to awaken Miranda’s wrath?" Zak inquired, his voice echoing. Mia's eyes adjusted to the dimming light and she noticed there were only a few people left in the warehouse. "It was like the third Reich over there," he joked, grinning.

Mia chuckled, gradually picking up on Zak's relaxed demeanor. She felt her shoulders loosen, realizing she had been holding back a significant amount of tension.

"It’s complicated. I made a very powerful person really mad," she confessed, leaning in towards Zak as if sharing a secret. Zak mirrored her posture, leaning in with his elbows on the table and head resting on his hands, his eyes filled with curiosity.

"Who?" he asked.

"My father," Mia replied with a slight smirk.

"Ah! I need to hear all the gory details," Zak exclaimed, straightening up and almost jumping from excitement. "But over some drinks, doll. The rest of the crew is going out cause, obviously." He shrugged, as if it were a given. "And you say?"

"Yes," Mia smiled, a surge of excitement coursing through her body after what felt like an eternity.

Mia's smooth skin caught and reflected the neon lights as she navigated through the bustling nightclub, her hand tightly intertwined with Zak's, who once again guided her through the crowd. He had enthusiastically spoken about this being the best nightclub in the city, shared plans of showing her around New York, and expressed his desire to fuck a guy named Jeremy – in that particular order.

His laughter resonated over the loud music as he conversed with the bartender. Four different types of alcohol were placed on the marble bar for them to enjoy. By Mia's third Tequila shot, her mood had significantly lightened, and she found herself giggling with Zak and a few other crew members.

“Look at him” Zak pointed, referring to some guy at the dance floor. “I need him on a fucking plate.” He chugged the rest of his glass and continued. “We could totally have a foursome, you, me, Jeremy, and our beloved superstar who you were eye-fucking earlier.” Mia almost choked on her drink, realizing Zak had picked up on her not-so-implicit attraction.

“Who is he, anyway? He looks familiar.” She asked, head tilting slightly to the side, her lips cold from the ice on her drink.

"Alexander Skarsgard," Zak revealed, and Mia hung onto every word, it sounded as if the world's oldest secret had just been revealed to her like a divine prophecy. “Actor, model, pathological singleton.” he continued. 

She hummed, emptying her cup, urgently needing another. Zak took no time in following her by emptying his glass as well and signaling the bartender for another round, his every move seemed so natural and casual, like if he just strolled through life without a care in the world.

"I got this one," Mia said, pulling out her wallet.

"No way—" Zak started, pushing her hand away.

"Yeah, it's the least I can do," Mia winked, a warm tingle buzzing through her head. 

Her fingers skillfully pressed the card terminal keys, but an unexpected outcome unfolded.

“It declined.” The slim bartender pointed, apologetic. “Do you have another one?”

Mia almost took a step back as if she had been slapped through the face. 

“It - it doesn’t- it doesn’t have a limit. It can’t decline.” She stuttered and began taking out the repertoire of cards she had in her wallet. Declined, declined, declined, declined.

Zak, finding the situation amusing, stepped in to help just as another guy offered to cover the bill. Mia, reacting to his presence, turned to see a tall man in a black shirt and classic blue jeans. He insisted on paying for Mia's drinks, heavily complimenting her as he did. Mia thanked him, and Zak, after emptying his glass, got lost in another conversation.

"Do you want to dance?" the stranger asked, pointing to the dance floor. Mia nodded, feeling a tingling sensation throughout her body, possibly caused by the alcohol. Maybe this was the break she needed—some good-old physical contact to ease the storm in her head.

He wasted no time, placing his hand firmly on Mia’s lower back, guiding her until they stood facing each other, moving to the rhythm. Her eyes, framed by long lashes, looked at him, subtly enticing. She rested her hands on his shoulders while he ran his own through her waist and the exposed skin on her upper back.

As the song progressed, Mia closed her eyes, turning around and moving softly with her back leaning into the man’s chest. His hands took the opportunity to travel through her abdomen. For a moment, or perhaps longer than a moment, behind her closed eyelids flashed images of Alexander. Her body tingled as she imagined his deep gaze, wondering if his hands were warm, how they would feel on her, whether he would be gentle or firm as he touched her, and how his long fingers would trace the skin of her body.

However, as with all things too good to be true, her phone vibrated almost violently, abruptly pulling her from her fantasies.

"Sorry," she quickly excused herself, leaving the guy half-turned on and with an invisible question mark above his head. 

The floor trembled beneath her forceful steps, and the cold New York air hit her as soon as she pushed the emergency door exit to step out.

“You’re a fucking monster,” she said, answering her phone. “What the fuck did you do?”

A silence extended through the phone line, and a shiver traveled through Mia’s body, the familiar feeling of her heart shrinking into her chest.

“Watch very carefully how you speak to me,” a stern voice replied, characterized by a well-used tone, if that made any sense.

“You answer when I call you” he continued. “How are you?”

“How am I? I have no fucking money, and you banished me to one of the most expensive cities in the whole world,” she said, her voice filled with exasperation.

“You have enough money to get by. Just not for your usual spending sprees.”

“All my cards declined less than 20 minutes ago,” she spat, fighting the urge to throw her phone into the wall.

“You’re so fucking irresponsible, Mia,” her father replied.

“Don’t try to lecture me and be a father now, Luke. If I die, it’s gonna be on you,” she said.

“Quit the theatrics. I—”

“They’re not theatrics. You send me to this shitty apartment in New York, make me work for the reincarnation of Mussolini, and then cut off my money?” Mia huffed.

“Grow the fuck up,” she heard him say, just as she hung up on him.

On the other side of town, almost like a direct contrast to Mia’s night, Alexander sat on the balcony of his apartment. His hands were busy holding a thick script, and his eyes moved while his lips softly mouthed words as he read. A glass of whiskey rested on the table in front of him, his mind completely elsewhere. 

He worked out his frustrations by tapping his fingers on the cold paper he held. Despite living in a townhouse in the wealthiest part of Soho, in true Scandinavian fashion, it didn't scream opulence but rather simple and comfortable living.

Little did Mia know, Alexander’s mind was filled with thoughts of her just the same. The little seamstress had stuck to his mind like sticky, sweet honey he couldn't wash off. He wanted to sink his teeth into her, claim her as if feminism never existed, and never let her go.

Slamming the script onto the table, he sat up, taking a deep breath and walking across his home into the master bathroom. Steaming away the ache in his muscles, he mentally went over the past day.