#and the idea of filing teeth down scares me

[venusiinfurss]

as someone with Fucked Up Teeth it offends me personally when actors get veneers

[gf2bellamy]

early seasons spence has me in a chokehold so i kinda have a request for you idk if it makes sense but yeah anyway (please dont tell me its obvious im a yapper ill cry)

ANYWHO

secret relationship au im imagining, earlyseasons!spencer x genderneutral/fem!bau!user (doesnt bother me but im trying to be considerate, im a girl but it really doesnt matter)

basically im thinking like the reader gets kidnapped on a case and spence is FREAKING OUT like lack of sleep, pacing constantly and being really set on finding the unsub freaking out.. and when he finally finds the reader in their state hes like that mix of relieved and absolutely appalled at the readers condition (im imagining all beaten and bloody and stuff idk how graphic you wanna make it). hes all ditsy when hes untying their binds and carrying them out of the place since hes so scared for them. the rest of the thing is kinda hotch calmly telling the reader how freaked out spence was and then im thinking like them comforting spencer afterwards and saying all the ‘its not your fault’ and ‘im okay now’ and its so fluffy it rots all our teeth (but i guess it would also be angst) IDK IF IT MAKES ANY SENSE IMSORRY

anyway remember to drink water and take care of yourself

call me some random emoji cause ill probably be here a bunch

- 🐚

captured — spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid x reader ( no use of y/n ) content warnings: reader having bruises, reader being tied up, mention of having a terrible headache, a/n: thank you so so much for your request and your request makes perfect sense don't worry !! i loved the idea and i'm looking forward to your next requests 🐚 <3<3<3 i hope i did your request justice !!!

Spencer didn’t know where you were. No one did. That thought pounded through his skull, looping endlessly as he nursed what had to be his fifth coffee of the day. He hadn’t slept—not even a minute—and the caffeine barely registered.

The coffee tasted like ash, bitter and lifeless. Not that it mattered. All it was doing was keeping him on his feet long enough to find you.

He should have seen this coming. He should have known the unsub would target you. You fit the profile perfectly—he had pored over the details a hundred times, retracing every step the team had made.

And yet, when it mattered most, Spencer had let his guard down.

And now you were gone. Missing. Maybe worse.

The thought sent a fresh wave of nausea rolling through him. His guilt was unbearable.

But it wasn’t just guilt, wasn’t just worry for a teammate.

It was something deeper, something he wasn’t allowed to show, not in a room full of profilers.

Because this wasn’t just about an agent being taken.

This was about you.

The person he had been secretly slipping away with after hours and the person whose hand he had held in the darkness when no one was looking.

It wasn’t supposed to happen like this.

He should have stopped you. You should have never been the one to go on that stakeout alone, even if it was routine. Even if you’d assured him you’d be fine. The memory of your casual smile as you walked out the door stabbed at him like a knife.

“It’s just for a few hours, Spence,” you’d said with that soft lilt in your voice, the one you used when you were trying to put him at ease. The one that undid him every time.

He’d smiled back, pretending to believe you, but his stomach had tightened even then. He should have insisted on going with you.

And now—God, now—he didn’t know if he would ever hear that voice again.

It was a small mistake—one that was tearing him apart.

He hadn’t even realized he’d been gripping the edge of the desk until his knuckles turned white. He forced himself to let go, staring blankly at the case file in front of him. It was no use. He’d already memorized every detail, every piece of evidence. Nothing had led them to you yet.

But it would. It had to.

Spencer rubbed his eyes, exhaustion clawing at him. His entire body screamed for rest, but the idea of closing his eyes��even for a moment—felt impossible. His mind was too full of you.

The burning in his eyes was unbearable, but the ache in his chest was worse.

Everyone on the team was worried about you—how could they not be? But they were also worried about him. And they had every reason to be.

They thought his reaction was because the two of you were close, because he was the type to carry the weight of every case like a personal failure. But it was more than that.

He wasn’t just losing an agent. He was losing you.

He swallowed hard, his grip tightening around the desk once more.

He stared at the evidence board in front of him, the faces of the victims haunting him as he tried to force his brain into profiling mode. But every time he looked at their photos, all he could see was you.

Your smile. Your eyes. The way you looked at him.

His chest tightened painfully, and he dug his fingers into the desk again.He needed to focus.

“Reid.”Hotch’s voice broke through his frantic thoughts.

Spencer’s head snapped toward the doorway where Hotch stood, his expression unreadable as always. “We’ve got a lead,” he said, stepping inside.“Where?” Spencer asked.

“An abandoned warehouse on 14th and Grant,” Hotch replied evenly, though the concern in his eyes was clear.

Spencer turned back to the board, his mind racing as he analyzed the new information. Within seconds, he made the connection. The location fit the unsub’s pattern, his profile—it was possible.

It was enough.

Spencer shot to his feet without another word, practically bolting out the door. The rest of the team exchanged quick glances before following him.

He didn’t care if he looked reckless. He didn’t care if they saw how desperate he was. He had wasted enough time already.

Derek barely had time to react before Spencer climbed into the passenger seat, his breathing uneven.

Derek glanced at him, concern flickering across his face as he started the engine. “Reid—”

“Just drive,” Spencer snapped.

Derek didn’t argue. He knew better.

The SUV tore through the streets, Derek driving faster than protocol allowed. But he didn’t care. He knew Spencer would bite his head off if he slowed down, and frankly, he couldn’t blame him.

Spencer’s knee bounced restlessly as his eyes darted to the GPS screen, counting down the seconds until they arrived.

The second the car came to a stop in front of the warehouse, Spencer threw open the door and bolted.

“Reid, wait!” Derek’s voice rang out behind him, but it was no use.

Spencer didn’t slow down. He couldn’t.

His pulse roared in his ears as he burst into the building, gun raised, breath ragged. His rational mind screamed at him to slow down, to wait for backup, to clear the scene carefully—standard protocol.

But protocol didn’t matter right now.

The dim lighting inside cast long, eerie shadows along the walls. The air was thick with dust and something metallic—rust, maybe blood. His stomach turned at the thought.

His grip on his gun tightened as he moved swiftly, his heart hammering against his ribs.

Room after room, door after door—empty.

Panic coiled in his chest, squeezing tighter with each dead end. His mind flashed with worst-case scenarios.

He shoved them down. He couldn’t think like that.

Then, he reached the last door.

Spencer barely took a breath before forcing it open, gun at the ready.

And then—

His stomach dropped.

There you were.

His voice cracked as he called out your name, his heart pounding in his chest. He rushed toward you, his gun immediately lowering as he took in your state.

His stomach twisted at the sight of you—unconscious, slumped forward, your wrists tightly bound to the arms of the chair. The dim lighting highlighted the bruises and cuts on your face, the sight of them sending a jolt of raw panic through him. For a brief, gut-wrenching moment, Spencer feared the worst.

He knelt beside you, his hands trembling as they moved to your neck. His fingers pressed gently against your pulse point, but for what felt like an eternity, there was nothing.

His mind raced. Was this it? Was this how it ended?

Then—

There it was.

A faint, steady beat beneath his fingertips.

Relief crashed over him like a tidal wave, and for the first time in what felt like hours, Spencer’s lungs finally let him take a full breath. He leaned forward, forehead nearly touching yours as he whispered shakily, “Thank God. You’re okay. You’re okay.”

His hands moved to your face, cupping it gently as he tilted your head up to get a better look at you.

When your face came into full view, his breath hitched.

Bruises marred your cheekbone and temple, a thin line of dried blood trailing down from your hairline. Spencer’s heart clenched so tightly he thought it might break. He bit his lip, trying to keep it together, trying to maintain some semblance of control

One single tear slipped down his cheek as he softly brushed a stray strand of hair from your face, his touch as gentle as if he were handling glass.

“I’m here,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “I’m here.”

“Morgan!” Spencer’s voice cracked, raw with emotion, as he yelled.

Seconds later, Derek burst into the room, gun in hand, his face hard and alert. “Reid, I just cleared the—” But the moment his eyes landed on you, his words died in his throat.

Derek cursed under his breath, his gaze shifting between you and Spencer, before asking about your condition, his concern palpable as he rushed to Spencer’s side, holstering his gun.

“Alive,” Spencer barely managed to choke out the word, his voice trembling. “Pulse is steady, but we need to get out of here.”

Morgan nodded, his jaw tightening as he quickly pulled out his knife to cut through the ropes binding your wrists.

Spencer’s hands were already on you, one cradling the back of your head, the other resting gently on your arm. His thumb stroked soothing circles on your skin.

The motion was familiar, a small gesture he used to comfort you when you were restless after nightmares, when he needed to remind you—remind himself—that you were safe.

He hoped it would work now, that somehow, it would bring you back to him.

Morgan worked quickly, slicing through the restraints. As soon as your wrists were free, Spencer carefully pulled you into his arms, holding you close against him.

His breath hitched as he whispered your name, lips near your ear. “It’s me. You’re safe now. I’ve got you.”

Your body felt so limp against him. He could barely feel his own limbs—his exhaustion was a distant thing compared to the need to keep you safe.

Derek’s voice broke through his daze, placing a hand on Spencer’s shoulder. “Let’s move.”

Spencer nodded. As he moved, one arm tightening protectively around you.

As they made their way outside, the sunlight hit Spencer’s face, but he barely noticed.

All he could focus on was you—the bruises and cuts that were on your skin, the way your body felt too light in his arms. His heart clenched at the thought of how much pain you must have endured, how much suffering had been thrust upon you, all because of the job.

He had promised you that he would protect you, that he would keep you safe. And now, he felt like he had failed you.

Two hours later, after one heated argument with the paramedics, Spencer had insisted on riding in the ambulance with you. He had refused to let you be alone, not for a second.

Now, you were lying in a sterile hospital bed, an IV drip hooked up to you, the soft beeping of machines a constant reminder that you were still here—still alive.

Spencer, on the other hand, was slumped in an uncomfortable plastic chair. His body contorted in a way that he knew he would regret later, but he didn’t care. His legs were stretched out, but his back was hunched, his neck bent at an awkward angle.

You slowly opened your eyes, blinking as the bright overhead lights made everything blur. The room was unfamiliar—hospital white with the sharp scent of antiseptic lingering in the air.

The pain hit you almost immediately—sharp and unwelcome—making its way through your head and down your body. You winced, biting your lip to hold back the whimper that threatened to escape.

The pain was intense, but it was nothing compared to the weight of everything that had happened.

The fear, the physical pain, the overwhelming sense of helplessness, it all crashed down on you like a tidal wave. But beneath it all, something else made itself known. The hum of machines, the soft beeping of your pulse, the sterile scent of the hospital room.

You slowly became aware that you were no longer in that dark, cold room, bound and at the mercy of the unsub. You were safe now.

And with that realization came relief.

You weren’t dead. You hadn’t been forgotten or abandoned. The unsub hadn’t fulfilled his plan.

Tears welled up in your eyes, and before you could stop them, they began to fall. You lifted your hand to your face, wiping them away quickly, but more kept coming. You couldn’t stop them.

Your eyes scanned the room, and that’s when you saw him.

Spencer.

He was there, slumped in the chair beside your bed. His exhaustion was unmistakable. His hair was messier than usual, not gelled back.

You sat there quietly observing the boy you had come to love so much.

Suddenly, the door to the room opened, and you turned your head to see Hotch step in. His usual stern expression softened when his eyes met yours, and for the briefest of moments, you could see the relief in his gaze.

“Hi, Hotch,” you mumbled weakly, offering a small, tired smile.

Hotch stepped further into the room, taking in your condition. "How are you doing?" His voice was softer than usual, an underlying concern lacing his words as he slowly closed the door behind him.

"My head is killing me," you replied, your voice hoarse, barely above a whisper. Your hand instinctively went to your temple, massaging it gently, but it did little to alleviate the pain.

Hotch nodded understandingly. He glanced at Spencer briefly, noting the way he hadn’t moved a muscle.

Hotch’s eyes lingered on Spencer for a moment longer than necessary, and you couldn’t help but wonder if he knew more than he was letting on.

It wouldn’t surprise you; Hotch was perceptive in ways no one else was, and your relationship with Spencer hadn’t exactly been subtle all the time.

He cleared his throat before speaking again. "We got him," Hotch said. "The unsub... he's in custody."

You closed your eyes for a moment, letting out a shaky breath. The news felt like a balm to your soul.

You’d been terrified that the danger hadn’t truly passed, that the man who had done this to you would still be out there, free to hurt others. But now, you could finally breathe.

He was behind bars, where he belonged.

"Thank you," you whispered, your body finally relaxing a little, your tension ebbing away with the knowledge that the man behind your nightmare was locked away.

Hotch’s gaze softened, though his face remained stoic as always. “He was worried sick,” Hotch said, nodding toward Spencer. “He didn’t sleep. He was looking for you the entire time.”

Your heart fluttered in your chest, your breath catching as you shifted your gaze from Hotch back to Spencer.

You could see the toll the search had taken on him. You fought the urge to reach for him, to run your fingers through his hair and wake him up just so you could see his face, to remind yourself that he was real, that he was here.

The face that had been your lifeline during the long days of captivity. It was that face, the one you’d thought of in the darkest moments, that had kept you sane.

Hotch seemed to notice the way your gaze lingered on Spencer, and for a moment, his usually unreadable face softened.

He didn’t say anything, but you could tell that he knew.

Spencer stirred slightly in his sleep, making a soft sound as he shifted. His body tensed before relaxing, the quiet movements of someone who was waking from exhaustion.

Hotch glanced down at Spencer, then back at you.He gave your arm a gentle squeeze—one that was light enough to not cause you any pain—and you looked at him.

“I’m glad you’re okay,” Hotch said quietly. He gave you a small nod before stepping back.“Thanks, Hotch,” you mumbled, your voice still weak, but filled with genuine gratitude.

The door clicked softly behind him.As if on cue, Spencer slowly opened his eyes, blinking a few times as the light seemed to hurt him.

His eyes immediately locked onto yours, and in that instant, you saw everything—the relief, the exhaustion, the quiet joy of seeing you alive.

“You’re awake,” he whispered, his voice barely above a breath, as if he didn’t quite believe it himself.

His eyes searched your face, his expression tightening as he took in every little detail.

Spencer never liked to admit his feelings. He never said the words, but you felt them in the way his eyes lingered on you, in the way he never once left your side.

You knew what was hidden beneath the surface, even if the world didn’t.

"Hi," you mumbled back, trying to offer him a small, weak smile. The effort was exhausting, but you didn’t want him to see just how badly you were hurting.

As you shifted to sit up a bit, the sharp pain in your head and limbs made itself known, and you couldn’t stop the soft groan that slipped from your lips.

Without a second thought, Spencer stood up from his seat, stepping closer to your bed, but he didn’t reach for you immediately.

"How are you feeling?" he asked softly, his voice barely above a whisper, cracking slightly. His eyes scanned over you—lingering on the bruises and cuts that were on your skin.

His breath caught in his throat as his gaze flickered from the fresh marks on your body to your face, and for a split second, it seemed like he couldn’t look at you without some part of him breaking.

"I’ll be fine," you said, your voice strained as you did your best to sound convincing, but the words didn’t do much to reassure him.

You could see it in the way he flinched, his hand immediately running through his hair—trying to distract himself from how visibly shaken he was by the sight of you in pain.

Spencer Reid, who always had an answer for everything, who always had control, was falling apart.

He leaned forward slightly, as if wanting to touch you but unsure if he should.

“Spence,” you whispered, your voice quiet but filled with reassurance. “It’s okay. I’m okay.”

But Spencer’s gaze remained on you, his body tense, and his hands flexed, still not knowing where to go. His lips parted again, as though to say something, but it came out only as a soft breath.

His fingers hovered near your arm but didn’t touch.

It was like he was afraid of hurting you more. You could see the guilt gnawing at him. It was written all over his face.

“I’m sorry,” he finally said, his voice barely audible. “I should’ve been there. I should’ve—" His words faltered, and he cut himself off.

"Spence," you said slowly, your voice soft but insistent. You reached out and grabbed his hand, your fingers curling around his gently.

His grip tightened around your hand, but it felt shaky. The words suddenly spilled out.

“I’m sorry, I should’ve known. I should’ve known you could be in danger and I—” His voice cracked, and the rest of the sentence died in his throat. His breath hitched, and it was clear he was trying to hold back tears.

But they came anyway, pooling in his eyes, spilling over and leaving tracks down his pale face.

Your heart clenched at the sight of him—this was the man who had stayed by your side, refused to leave even when his mind told him he couldn’t handle it anymore.

The man who, despite everything, was still so gentle with you, so protective, and yet, here he was, blaming himself for things beyond his control.

"Spencer, stop," you said softly, your voice full of concern for him “Please, stop.”

His eyes remained downcast, his shoulders slumped in defeat. "I should have," he murmured under his breath, barely loud enough for you to catch.

His voice trembled, breaking on the words. "I should’ve been more careful. I should’ve made sure you were safe. You're hurt... you're in the hospital because of me."

Your heart broke all over again. He always did this to himself, carried the weight of everyone else’s pain as if it were his own.

"No, no," you whispered urgently, doing your best to push through the lingering pain in your head as you squeezed his hand tighter.

The effort sent a sharp pulse through your skull, but you forced yourself to focus, to hold on to him. "Spence, it wasn’t your fault. Don't ever think that," you said firmly, your voice filled with all the care and strength you had left.

"Listen to me," you continued, the words coming from the depths of your soul. "You did everything you could. You were there. You found me. You're the reason I'm alive, Spencer. If anyone should be sorry, it’s the man who did this to me, not you." Your words were soft.

Spencer’s breath hitched again, his face contorting. He looked at you like you were the only thing keeping him together.

You took a slow, steady breath, forcing yourself to speak through the exhaustion. "You’re not the reason I’m here, Spence," you said, your voice full of the truth you wished he could feel deep inside himself. "You’re the reason I’m going to be okay. You always are."

Your words seemed to reach him, just enough to keep him from falling apart completely.

"Promise me something," you said, your voice soft but unwavering. "Promise me you’ll stop blaming yourself. It’s not on you. It never was."

He nodded slowly, his hand tightening around yours in return.

“I promise,” he whispered, though it felt like he was still trying to convince himself more than anyone else.

"Come here," you said softly.

Without a second thought, Spencer leaned forward, his body folding into yours as he gently buried his face in the crook of your neck, his arms sliding around you with a tenderness that made your heart ache.

His breath hitched as he adjusted, trying his best not to press too hard, too recklessly, worried about hurting you. His arms tightened around you, pulling you closer as though he couldn’t bear to let go.

When he finally pulled back, there was a small smile on his face that wasn’t there before.

You smiled gently, reaching up to brush a strand of hair from his face, your fingers lingering on his skin.

"I’m okay," you whispered, your voice tender, just for him. "I’m really okay, Spence."

He leaned forward, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead, lingering for just a second longer than usual, before pulling back with a contented sigh. "I’m so glad you’re here" he murmured.

You squeezed his hand tightly, smiling at him.

He pulled the chair closer to your bed, never letting go of your hand, settling into it with a deep breath. He was still physically exhausted, emotionally drained, but he didn’t care.

All that mattered was that you were here.

[spider-stark]

GREED IS GOD

Kaz Brekker x Reader

Summary - If Kaz Brekker insists on being a jerk to you, then why does he keep threatening the boys you like?

Warnings - fem!reader, toxic, subtle power dynamic, kaz being emotionally constipated, could deviate from canon, based more on book!kaz than show, !minors dni 18+!

Word Count - 2.2k

// masterlist // send me your thoughts // comments & reblogs appreciated! //

“You had no fucking right, Brekker!” 

The words tear straight from your throat, rageful as you swing open the door to one of the Crow Club’s private gambling parlors. Inside, several heads snap to where you’re looming in the doorway. Some of them wear baffled looks, unsettled by the violence of your intrusion, while others look as if they’re holding in a cheeky laugh behind tight lips.

You’re not sure what they find so funny, whether it’s the prospect of Kaz Brekker getting his ass handed to him by a girl or something to your expense.

The grunts—about ten of them, in total—sit around a black poker table, the center of which is lavishly adorned with the striking silhouette of a crow, styled in sleek, bloody crimson. At its head is Dirtyhands himself, his elbows digging into the bolstered edge, leather-clad fingers pressed together in a stiff steeple. 

His eyes slide to yours, cold and detached. 

Your chest locks, lungs constricting around a breath. 

“I assume you’ve all been introduced,” Kaz rasps, a terse nod in your direction, “to the Dregs dearest asset and resident instigator.” 

There’s a snort or two, but no laughter. No one can ever tell when Kaz Brekker is making a joke, and as such, it’s best to never laugh at him. 

In the main hall behind you, the Crow Club’s usual clamor seems to grow, low-lives and thugs barking over games of Blackjack and Craps. It’s loud and obnoxious, a rival to the incessant pounding in your head, your blood turned to an erratic rush in your ears. 

It hits you this might’ve been a bad idea. 

Then—like an idiot—you choose to double-down. 

“You had no right.” The words catch in your teeth, serrated on the way out. You point at him. “You over-fucking-stepped, Brekker!” 

It’s a domino effect, the low snicker of one grunt setting off the next until they’re all laughing at you, chortling like a bunch of rowdy pigs. Your fingers curl, rage smarting—but then there’s embarrassment, too, red hot as it crawls up your neck. 

Why is it that a man's anger earns restraint, but a woman’s is entertainment? 

Before you think to find the answer in the way Jesper would—by drawing the pistol at your hip and shooting a Saintsdamned hole in the ceiling—Kaz lifts a commanding hand. 

“Shut up. All of you.” 

Kaz doesn’t raise his voice. He doesn’t have to. 

The grunts fall into a wary silence. Kaz’s glower drags around the table, marking each face. The men start shifting in their seats like the cushions have been set on fire, but they’re too afraid to stand up. 

“Get out.” 

Chairs screech back. Cheap boots scuff against polished floors, the grunts shuffling toward you in a disorganized heap. You suck in a breath, turning sideways to let them file out past you. They avoid your gaze—not because they’re scared of you, of course, but because Dirtyhands had already snapped their leash once tonight. 

When the last grunt skulks out, Kaz gives you an order, too. 

“Close the door.”

And damn if your feet don’t obey, so used to blind obedience that you immediately step into the parlor and do as he bids, a palm pressed flat to the door's glossy-black paint, feeling it in your bones when it clicks shut. 

The air shifts. 

A lump forms in your throat. The sensation of a noose getting tighter, tighter—the persistent, strangling fear of a child who knows they’re about to be scolded, who's still innocent enough to wonder if maybe, just maybe, they can escape it by crawling under their bed, by keeping their back turned. 

But you’re not a child. And this isn’t your fault. 

You turn around. 

“Do you know what keeps men in line?” Kaz asks, giving you no time to answer before he continues, “I’ll give you a hint. It’s not respect. Not loyalty, either. So what is it? What keeps a gang from going off the deep end, from turning order into chaos?” 

You swallow. Try to feign nonchalance. “I don’t know, Brekker. The enduring power of friendship?” 

Kaz doesn’t so much as blink. 

“Fear,” he answers simply, firmly. “Fear keeps them in line. Fear of consequence, fear of uncertainty—” he leans slightly forward, gaze unnervingly intense—“fear of me. And do you know what jeopardizes that fear?” 

Your skin feels tight. “Me?” 

An irked, tight-lipped smile. “Exactly. You.” 

Kaz relaxes back into his chair, and it strikes you how he almost looks like a fixture of the room—his dark, austere style blending seamlessly with the parlor’s imposing black-and-crimson decor. Or maybe that’s not right. Maybe it’s the other way around—the parlor, the Crow Club itself, exists merely as an extension of Kaz. It’s his blood woven into the crow’s silhouette, the blackness of his soul that paints the walls. 

A tired, gloved hand combs through his slicked hair. Pink lips part with a sigh that feels purposeful. “So. Next time you want to act all big and make a fool of yourself, give me enough time to clear the room, hm? That way, I don’t have to deal with men getting it in their heads that they can talk back to me all because you do it without losing your tongue. Understood?” 

You suck on a tooth, glancing off to one side. It takes a minute for words to find you, and when they finally do, they spill out in a frustrated heap. “Raske told me about Leon,” you tell him, more an accusation than a statement. 

Images flash in your mind, the spattered freckles and gap-toothed smile of the dealer you’d gotten sweet with. 

The dealer that, as of a few days ago, disappeared from the Crow Club without a trace. 

“What,” you press, brows lifting expectantly, “you’re not even gonna say anything? Deny it, even?” 

His expression is one of perfect neutrality. Still, the tiniest hint of satisfaction slinks into his tone. “I’m not sure why you’re so upset,” he tells you, almost patronizing. “Did Raske not tell you everything? I was quite gracious, all things considered. He even convinced me to let Leon keep his tongue.” 

A scoff pushes from your lungs, frustration bubbling into childish fury. It takes all your restraint to keep from stomping your foot at him. 

“You broke his hand, Kaz!” 

He looks offended. “I broke both of his hands,” he corrects you, the distinction incredibly important. “Leon should consider himself lucky I didn’t take a finger for all the times he’s been caught skimming. So long as the bones heal, he should relearn his shuffle just fine.” 

But you’re no fool. The bones won’t heal. Not properly. 

Leon will never deal again. You’ll never see him. And Kaz… 

Kaz wins. 

“Leon isn’t a skimmer,” you defend, a bitter growl as you stomp for the poker table. You stop opposite him, palms pressed flat to the felt-top as you hold his stare. “And even if he was,” your voice cracks, “we both know that wasn’t your reason, Brekker.” 

Kaz lifts his chin, the muscles in his shoulders tensing in a slight, barely perceptible shift. “Oh?” 

You count on your fingers. “Leon. Junip. Teller.” 

Each name tastes acidic in your mouth, cheeks burning with the memory of friends and almost-lovers, boys with nothing more than the misluck of smiling at you in a place where Dirtyhands could see. 

“Kerrigan, Donni.” Your voice climbs, “Mikael, Alyn!” 

How many have been punished? Made to pay for fallacies at the cost of shattered bone or cut-off digits? And why, why is it that anytime you seek happiness, Dirtyhands comes to tear it away? 

“Do I need to keep going?” you finally spit. “Or have I painted well enough for you to get the picture, Brekker?” 

He nods, dusting a speck of lint from his suit coat. “Oh, you’ve painted plenty well enough. This is becoming an epidemic, isn’t it? Parents giving their children such stupid names.” A harsh shadow flickers across his face. “Or was the point simply that you get around?” 

The words land like a blow—and you falter with the impact. 

Your stare drops, nails scraping against the felt-top. “This isn’t fair,” you mutter, head shaking. 

“What isn’t?” 

“This!” 

It’s an exasperated breath, an explosion that wracks through your body. You shove back from the table. Kaz sits straight, a line between his brows. 

“I do my job, Kaz!” 

“As is expected.” 

“I do more than my job!” you argue. “I do everything you ask!” 

“Good.” 

“I scale every rooftop, climb through every window, gather dirt on every fucking rat in this absolute sewer of a city!” 

His head tilts, antagonizing, “As does Inej.” 

You jab a finger to your chest. “I helped you steal a DeKappel!” you hiss, careful not to speak too loud of the one-hundred-thousand kruge painting you’d nabbed from Van Eck. “A fucking DeKappel, Kaz!” 

A sigh slips from his nose. Two leather-clad fingers press to his temple, rubbing in circles as if to soothe some budding ache. “Could we speed this along?” he asks. “I’m a busy man, and dealing with Leon took precious time out of my–” 

“Why?” Your voice is wretched, desperation lashing with every syllable. “Why is it never enough? Why can’t I have one, just one thing outside of my obligations to you? One thing to make me happy, one thing to-” 

His hands brace the table, shoving to his feet so quickly the chair screeches from underneath him, clattering back onto the ground. “Because it makes you weak,” he snarls, low and threatening. “It distracts you.” 

Bullshit. You audibly call bullshit. 

Then something snaps. 

Kaz slams a fist against the table, hard and loud enough to make you jolt. He won’t look at you. “Because,” he starts, pained as if the words have to slash and claw up his throat, “it distracts me.” 

Everything. 

Your wretched feelings, your childish fury, your anger for Leon. 

It all fizzles into something static. 

“It… what?” 

“You heard me.” 

You blink. Once. Twice. 

A third time for good measure. 

“Well—I did, but… Why?” 

Kaz sucks a breath deep into his lungs. Low, to himself, he admits, “Because Inej was right.” Dark eyes look up. “I am selfish and violent. Hungry to the point I feel it in my bones. Greed is my god,” he rasps, wavering, “and you, you are my altar.” 

Oh. 

You take a step back, nearly stumbling over your own feet. “Sorry, I…” a breathy, humorless laugh. “What do you… what does that mean, exactly?” 

Fucking hyperbole. 

A gloved hand rakes through his hair. “That I want,” he starts, only to trail off. 

But then the words settle. Become their own sentence. 

“I want.” You’ve never heard Kaz this desperate. Never seen his eyes this soft, this hazy with apprehension. “It’s abhorrent and I’ve tried to stop, but I can’t. I can’t stop wanting,” a pause, a space left for the word he can’t quite form. You. You, you, you. 

There’s a moment. 

Silent consideration, internal debate. 

Kaz is a monster, one part of you argues. He doesn’t think before he speaks, shatters the bones of any boy you bat eyes at. 

Kaz is a shield, whispers the other. He’ll dismiss a room on your behalf, threaten the lives of any who might hurt you. 

There’s a moment. 

Then, all at once, there’s motion—glorius, frantic, thoughtless motion. The scuff of your boots across the floor; the shocked catch of his breath; the feel of stiff fabric bunched between your fingers, pulling him closer closer closer by his lapels, brow furrowing when his head turns to dodge your lips. 

Gloved hands settle on your waist, the electrifying feel of cool leather brushing bare skin, shirt lifting as Kaz pushes you backwards, up onto the poker table. 

“I can’t,” he struggles. But your legs tighten around his waist, core pressed to the growing bulge in his trousers, and hips seem to meet yours to the tempo of Oh, but I want to. Saints, I want to.

“I can’t,” it's a pant, a moan, his head shaking, dark eyes fluttering, “I can’t be what you deserve.” 

“Then be what I want,” you beg, “be what I need.” 

Your palms lay flat against his chest, slowly drifting up toward the smooth nape of his neck. Your fingertips barely graze the warmth of his skin before a leather-clad hand snaps from your waist, roughly taking hold of both your wrists. 

“No,” he almost chokes, desire held back by fearful restraint. “Not yet.”

His grip loosens—trusting you to obey, to let him set the pace.

And he does.

Nimble fingers are already sliding your pistol from the holster at your hip, sliding it across the table before setting to work on your trousers, fiddling with the flimsy closures before tugging them down, bearing witness to the parts of you he’d only ever seen in dreams. 

Not yet, you think, hot and desperate, cool leather grazing against sensitive skin. But eventually, inevitably. 

Perhaps greed is your god, too. 

a/n - yeah, idk guys? i guess i just can't write smut. the amount of times i walked up to my sister while writing this just to scream "I can't take Kaz Brekker's pants off" was alarming. alas, this exists now and maybe some of you will enjoy it! i'll give true smut another go at some point, probably will something shorter so i don't get distracted with other things lmao

anyways, would love to hear what you think (what works, what doesn't work, what you love, what you hate lmao) and thanks for reading! 

[imreidswifey]

A New Year's Kiss

Summary: On New Year's Eve, Y/n impulsively kisses Spencer Reid, and in the aftermath of the unexpected moment, they both realize it marks the beginning of something deeper between them.

A/n : This I my first ever post and fan fiction I am SO open to requests so feel free to message and I really hope u enjoy Also idk how to work this app so if anyone wants to help me with creating stores def reach out. 💕

Warning: Teeth rotting fluff, Kissing, Counting (Numbers scare me too)

———————————————————————————

The clock on the wall in the BAU bullpen ticked down the final hours of the year, but Y/n found herself in no rush to leave. The office was mostly empty—just a few stragglers finishing up last-minute reports, waiting for the festivities to start. The rest of the team had scattered, heading to various parties or spending the evening with family, but Y/n hadn’t made any big plans.

It wasn’t that she didn’t want to spend time with her friends; she did, very much so. But there was something about tonight that made her feel a little... disconnected. Maybe it was the cold January air pressing against the windows, or maybe it was just the weight of another year spent chasing after killers. But as the night deepened and the office grew quieter, Y/n found herself wondering if this year was going to be any different.

She glanced over at the corner where Spencer Reid sat, lost in a file, his brow furrowed as his eyes moved rapidly across the pages. She’d always admired Spencer—his brilliant mind, his quiet charm, his unwavering kindness—but lately, there had been something else there. A spark in the way he looked at her when their paths crossed in the hallway, a smile that lingered just a little longer than usual. She wasn’t sure if it was just her imagining things, or if there was more to it, but every time their eyes met, her heart skipped a beat.

It was silly, she told herself. Spencer was awkward, shy, and almost painfully self-aware. He was a genius, sure, but the idea of him being interested in someone like her seemed impossible. Still, she couldn’t shake the feeling that maybe—just maybe—there was something between them.

As the clock inched closer to midnight, Y/n decided to join the rest of the team. She grabbed her coat from the back of her chair and walked toward the conference room where the TV was already showing the countdown.

The room was a little more crowded than she expected—Morgan, Derek, Emily, and JJ were gathered near the TV, laughing and joking around. Spencer was standing at the back, slightly apart from the group, holding a cup of cider in his hands. When he saw her enter, he offered a soft, shy smile that sent a flutter through her chest.

"Hey," Y/n greeted softly, moving toward him.

"Hey, Y/n," Spencer replied, his voice a little quieter than usual. His eyes lingered on her for just a moment longer than she expected, and she couldn’t help but wonder if he, too, was feeling the strange tension in the air.

“Happy New Year,” JJ called over her shoulder, raising her glass.

“Not yet,” Morgan teased, glancing at the clock. “But we’re getting close.”

Y/n smiled, but the truth was, she was far more interested in the man standing next to her. There was something magnetic about Spencer tonight—something that made her feel like they were the only two people in the room. The others might be joking around, but she felt completely focused on him.

"Are you sure you're ready for the year to end?" Y/n asked, her voice a little softer now, almost tentative.

Spencer’s eyes flicked toward her, and she could see the slight hesitation in his expression. He looked down at his cider for a moment before meeting her gaze again, a faint blush creeping up his neck.

“I think I am,” he said, his voice just a little hoarse, as if he wasn’t quite sure where this conversation was going. “It’s been… a long year.” He paused, his fingers tapping nervously on his glass. "But I guess there’s always the possibility that the next one might be... better."

Y/n smiled, her heart swelling at the vulnerability in his words. “I think the next one will be great, Spence.”

The seconds on the clock ticked down: 10... 9... 8. Y/n could feel the anticipation rising in her chest, not just for the new year, but for something she hadn’t fully understood until this very moment—an almost magnetic pull toward Spencer, an urge to close the space between them.

For a moment, it felt like they were the only two people in the room, the others’ laughter and chatter fading into the background. The closer the countdown got to midnight, the more her nerves tangled with excitement.

"Five... four... three..." The TV announcer’s voice cut through the air, and Y/n’s breath caught in her throat. Without thinking, her heart was racing in anticipation of something that she couldn’t explain, something that had been building inside her for weeks. She didn’t know what she was going to do next—didn’t know if she had the courage to follow through—but something inside her told her that this was the moment.

Spencer was standing right next to her, his arm lightly brushing hers. Their eyes met again—intense, lingering, as if they both realized they were teetering on the edge of something big. Something neither of them had ever allowed themselves to feel before.

Before she could stop herself, Y/n reached up and gently placed her hand on his chest. Spencer’s eyes widened slightly in surprise, and his breath hitched.

"Y/n?" His voice was a whisper, uncertain, yet somehow eager. He looked down at her hand on his chest and then back to her face, his expression searching. “What are you—?”

But before he could finish the sentence, the countdown reached zero.

"Happy New Year!" The room erupted in cheers, but Y/n barely heard any of it. The sound of the TV seemed miles away as she leaned up on her tiptoes, her heart pounding in her chest.

In the blur of movement, Spencer’s eyes widened in shock, but before he could react, she kissed him.

Her lips brushed against his in the softest, most tentative touch at first. But then, as if some hidden force was pulling her in, she kissed him again, this time with more confidence, more intent. Spencer’s breath caught, and for a brief moment, everything seemed to still.

The world outside the room, the countdown, the cheers of the team, all of it faded into nothing. There was only Spencer—warm, close, and real—and the press of his lips against hers.

It wasn’t a passionate kiss; it was soft, tentative, full of the question both of them had been avoiding. Was this what they wanted? Was this where they were meant to be?

But as Spencer’s hand gently cupped her face, his thumb brushing the curve of her jaw, Y/n felt something shift. A quiet understanding passed between them, an unspoken acknowledgment that this was just the beginning.

When they finally pulled apart, both of them were breathless. Spencer’s cheeks were flushed, his eyes wide and searching, but there was no awkwardness. No regret. Just a quiet, shared moment.

“Y/n, I—” Spencer began, but she gently placed a finger to his lips, silencing him.

“Don’t,” she whispered. “Just... just let it be.”

The room around them was still buzzing with laughter and cheers, but Y/n didn’t care about any of that. The only thing that mattered was Spencer, standing before her with a soft smile that made her heart swell.

He reached out, gently brushing a stray lock of hair from her face. “I didn’t expect this,” he said softly, almost shyly.

“I didn’t either,” she admitted, her voice just as soft. “But I think I’m glad it happened.”

Spencer’s smile deepened, and for the first time that night, Y/n saw the warmth in his eyes that told her this wasn’t just a New Year’s kiss. It was something more.

Something real.

“Well, then,” Spencer said, his voice steady and full of promise, “maybe we should make this New Year the start of something new.”

Y/n nodded, her heart fluttering. “I think I’d like that.”

And in that moment, with the new year stretching out before them, full of endless possibilities, Y/n knew that whatever came next—whatever the future held—she wasn’t afraid anymore. Not with Spencer by her side.

Hope you enjoyed!!

[secretlovezz]

1k! 1k! 1k!

Reader is from another agency or department and is helping the BAU team out on a case and they have strange thinking habits. Spencer keeps finding the reader while doing these habits.

Ex. Sitting in a dark storage closet, somehow sitting on top of the break room fridge, upside down, walking around in circles, etc

Vampire

Spencer Reid x reader

Warnings: I'm pretty sure there's nothing but fluff here

Wordcount: 692

A/N: love this request cause I sit in weird positions when I'm thinking lololol hope I did your idea justice 🫶🩷

"Wha- uh wh-what are you doing?"

Spencer knew that people had their own ways of getting themselves to focus on a certain task, I mean he certainly did. He'd done plenty of research on it at some point in his early college life. Sometimes he'd pace around the room he was in fingers tapping against each other in deep thought about whatever the current case was about until Hotch or Derek snapped him out of what seemed to be a trance. Once in a while, he'd simply take a deep breath in and out to rid his mind of other troublesome thoughts to focus on work but this- your thinking habits- though he logically understood we're so very odd to him.

For example, he's just walked in on you sitting with your legs crisscrossed on a chair while your eyes are closed and brows furrowed... in the dark... in silence.

"M' tryin' to see if I can figure out how the dump sights link together- 'cause I mean I know they do, there's like no way they don't- he even..." Spencer swears that he's listening he always does when it comes to you but as he stares at you, your eyes are still closed despite him turning on the light when he first walks in, his own brows start to crease in confusion. His lips part dryly wanting to speak up about his thoughts on your oddities but decided against it as you were still speaking.

You smile, “So what do you think?” Spencer frowns and tries to recall the words that had so smoothly left your lips.

“Um… I- about what?” His voice is soft with shame at his lack of concentration on a conversation seemingly involving information of the current case and when your shoulders slump, eyes creasing at him his shame only intensifies and aches deep in his gut. “Sorry- It’s just- well I… sorry.” His head hangs while his fingers tap against the file in his hands.

Focus.

Your silence is just as unusual as his own, it almost scares him, he thinks the air has just condensed around his form; it suffocates him forcing the release of a vomit of words he had just been repressing. “You were in the dark and while pragmatically I know it’s probably your way of getting yourself focused and your mind running so you can efficiently do your job- I mean i’ve read plenty about the many practises one does to anchor themselves- I just thought it was a little weird the way you went about it- not that you're weird! ‘Cause you're not! I would never say anything like that about you because you're great and you do your job amazingly. I just- I just um… was curious I guess.”

No matter his IQ Spencer was sure he had never felt so dumb, hating the unavoidable fact that only you could make him stumble this way. He sighs before letting his teeth find his pink bottom lip to chew on. His fingers tap faster against his file creating a light thump sound to echo around the otherwise stomach churning-ly silent filing room.

The heating flush he feels when the corners of your mouth start to tip upwards in amusement colors his cheeks with a rosy hue that has him further trying to hide his face by staring at the floor.

Your smile widens at his shyness, “it's okay I can admit it is a little weird,” the small chuckle that enveloped your words made his heart flutter aggressively in his chest, “my friends even compare me to a vampire since the sun is clearly my weakness.” Your fingers and brows wiggle in a way that makes Spencer laugh abruptly that gorgeous smile of his over taking his blushed face.

“Clearly.”

You pat the seat next to you with a welcoming and teasing smirk.

“Come sit down so I can tell you what I was talking about since someone renowned ‘Boy Wonder’ had his head up in the clouds.”

The grin never leaves the young doctor's face as he makes his way to you.

“I promise to pay attention this time.”

[1-ker0sene-1]

Never Just Two

Ghoap / Reader

(Wheelchair User Reader)

Chap1, Chap2, Chap3

"Not a Meet Cute"

Word Count: 1.3k

CW: Threats.

Inspired by this idea post

What started as a heated affair on what they thought was a suicide mission became much more than that. One night stashed away in a house, his Lieutenant was shot. Ordering Johnny to leave him. Over and over again the Sargeant defied his orders. It frustrated Simon to no end. He wanted to swing at Johnny. Scream at him. Push him away. He wanted him to go and live. But instead Simon ended up throwing down his mask and smashing his lips against Johnny's. The rest of the night was heavy breathing, shuddered groans, the sweat of skin.

Now it's been well over two years, they are inseparable. Others, including the rest of the 141 taskforce, simply considered them friends. Preferred work partners is all, they just trusted eachother. Oblivious to the nights Simon would slip into Johnny's room in the barracks, oblivious to the fact that they were wearing eachothers dog tags.

This mission they were on base a lot right now, on standby while the tech department got some restaffing. By department.. It was really just Laswell. She was on leave with her wife. They needed their info, but it was difficult given the circumstances. So now they were forced to wait on a replacement. That wasn't the hard part, they could be patient with that. What the struggle was- being patient enough to stay out of prying eyes. Simon could handle it most of the time. It was Johnny that was dragging him into closets, bathrooms, anywhere that he could to pull up Simons mask and kiss feverishly at his face.

Just like this. It was late, late enough that they were sure they were alone. Johnny gripped Simon by the vest, pulling him sloppily through the door into the common room. Snickering quietly as he pulls up his partners balaclava with his teeth, kissing on his jaw with an open mouth.

"C'mon L.T... all fuckin' day I needed this.."

Johnny mutters against his skin. Pulling off the mask the rest of the way.

"We should be back in the damn room not here- someones gonna wa-"

Simons words die in his throat instantly. Looking over Johnny's shoulder. Making Soap raise a brow.

"What is it-"

He turns, half laughing but stops immediately when seeing what his partner did. You.

You blink back at the Lieutenant and Sargeant with a stare of shock. Your face illuminated by the laptop in front of you. Sitting in your chair, you clear your throat and advert your eyes. Awkwardly closing your computer, pulling it off the table and into your lap.

"I think I'll give you guys the room..-"

You mutter. Pulling yourself back from the table and rolling towards the door.

Ghost is quick to pull on his mask again, stepping in front of your path. Blocking the door. Brown eyes are cold staring down at you. Not only did you see them. He doesn't recognize you. Not at all.

"You didn't see a fucking thing. Clear?"

He snarls. Eyes flicking over you.

You raise your hands lightly.

"Nothing. Saw nothing-"

You instantly confirm. Not really wanting to piss off the infamous Lieutenant. But your pretty sure the sight is already burned in your brain. You peek at the door again, hoping to leave.

Johnny eyes you wearily. Pushing his tongue against the inside of his cheek.

"Who the hell are ye?"

He snaps, crossing his arms. You blink between the two of them, sinking nervously into your chair as you ready for the interrogation they're seemingly preparing for you.

"New tech for your team? Laswell sent me. Look- was just doing some file research that's all- your business is your business. I just wanna go to the barracks."

You try to reason, a cautious frown on your face. Nervous. Probably scared. Johnny can see it, softening up his face a little. But Ghosts eyes narrow. Good. Be scared. He can't have you do anything stupid.

"You tell anyone. You're just another name on a missing persons list. It wouldn't be hard. Easy even. Understand?"

You swallow thickly at his threat, eyes falling to the floor with a nod. Sucking in a tight breath. You're holding onto the wheels of your chair with a shaky grip and white knuckles.

".. Yessir."

You utter.

Simon sidesteps out of your way, watching with a glare as you struggle a little opening the door with the laptop still in your arm. Until you slip out of the room and are out of sight. Johnny groans and rubs a hand down his own face.

"Fuck..."

He drags out the word. Looking at Simon.

"Ye really hadta threaten hir too? She tells, we'll be in a world of hurt."

"She tells. She's gone."

Johnny grunts and shakes his head, looking out the window of the common room to see you going down the hall.

"Little harsh. We aren't gonna kill hir."

Simon knows that. He won't. But she doesn't know that. And right now that might be the only thing keeping her from getting them separated.

The next morning Price comes in to the common room with an announcement. Said announcement- sitting in her wheelchair next to him, playing with her hands as the captain introduced her. Price crosses his arms.

"Men. We have a new member of the team. She'll be a new technician working with us, behind the scenes responsibilities. She's new to the base. Be respectful."

He says sternly, his elbow just barely nudges your shoulder- gesturing you to speak.

Clearing your throat you manage to sputter out your name. Trying to avoid the intense stares from the Lieutenant and Sargeant you met last night.

"Looking forward to working with you guys. Laswell recommended this team. I have no doubts about your work."

Oblivious to exactly what happened last night, Gaz was quick to step forward and shake your hand. Welcoming you into the team with a respectful clasp on your shoulder.

"Another addition can never be a bad thing yeah?"

He chuckles, you give him a friendly smile and nod.

Gaz pulls back, raising a brow at the silent two of the group. Sending a light shove to Soaps side. Making him clear his throat with a nod.

"Good to have ye.."

Simon watches in silence, only giving a confirming nod. But it's enough for the Captain. Who clasps his hands together.

"Right. Good. She'll get to work. The rest of you, keep up. Train, rest, get ready for our next run out of base. It'll be soon this week."

Price says sternly, before dismissing them.

You scratch your wrist nervously, left in the room when the Captain headed back to his office. Gaz seemed great, however the threat from the other two was still heavy on your mind. You swallowed and shrugged.

"There's not really an office yet so.. I'll be with my computer here in the common room."

This time you give fair warning.

The friendly Sargeant nods and moves past you politely, saying something about heading to the training room. Once again, leaving you with just the two. You suck in a tight awkward breath, all three of you tense. Johnny shifts uncomfortably, trying to relieve a little of the tension himself.

"About yesterday lass.."

You blink at him before shaking your head, putting your bag on the table. Fishing out your laptop and equipment. Shrugging, not even looking up from your work.

"Really not as big of a deal as you think sir."

You say, leaning on the armrest of your wheelchair.

"This line of business, it's not the first threat I've been given-"

Simon huffs, but goes to slip out of the room. He's not apologizing. Not anytime soon at least. Soap scowls in his direction, he'd talk to him about that later. He comes over to your chair, holding out a hand for you to shake. Apprehensively, you take it. He gives a lopsided smile.

"I doubt we'll have any issues."

However there's a strange glint in his eyes that makes your hand slightly tug back- but he keeps it in his grip.

"Cause I doubt you'll tell anyone."

He says in nearly a purr. Before letting go of your hand and walking out of the room. Leaving you to look down at your palm.

{I'll start this as a little series♥️ Chapters won't be super long, and they'll be like scenarios throughout your time getting to know eachother}

[ghostlyangels1204]

Soap the flower girl

Cont: I got his idea after seeing a TikTok of something similar to this, at that moment this was all I could think of omg. Soap is the perfect man istg, teeth-rotting sweetness. Brace yourselves.

You wrung your hands together, the sweat pilling there becoming exceedingly more uncomfortable as time passes. You had the whole day, hour to hour, minute to minute, mapped out in your mind. Every detail filed down to a fine pointed edge- not even a speck of dust could evade your wrath. Not today. Johnny had his fair share of missions for work, but this one was his biggest. The day he would legally bind the two of you, your promises exchanged with rings and sealed with a kiss.

Everything was perfect, your support network were all there- fawning over you, surrounding you with all the love you could possibly imagine, and then some. Johnny was in his own room, the three men he dedicated his life to for years, right there with him. But then, just as Johnny was hyping himself up, with Price and Gaz by his side, Ghost had walked into the room with less-than-ideal news. Johnny’s niece, the sweetest little girl you had ever met, had come down with a bad sickness bug from nursery and was currently stationed at home in bed. Needless to say- you didn’t have a flower girl.

“Ach’ shite…”, He huffed out, his hand finding its way to his face in a feeble attempt to soothe the contracted muscles. “Ay’e, what the hell am’ I gonnae do now? We get married in ten minutes!”

“Alright buddy, it’s just some flowers on the aisle. Bet no-one will even notice…” Ghost’s poor attempt at relaxing the sergeant resulted in two pairs of eyes from Price and Gaz being launched his way. He really wasn’t made for being a wedding planner.

Price turned back to him, a hand coming down to clasp his shoulder, “Right mate, let’s just get you downstairs yeah, and we’ll see if anyone fancies stepping in?” With a final pat on his back, they all moved downstairs as a unit, Johnny walking about ten paces faster than the rest.

In the time it took for everyone to be seated, people had asked around if anyone could step in. But to no avail, as all the other kids were either too shy or too stubborn to step in.

“Nah we need a flower girl… fuck,” The three men looked on in concern, convinced Johnny was about to drop dead from a heart attack right then and there. And they couldn’t leave you as a widow before you even married the man. “Johnny… its flowers… some petals that are more littering than decoration”, “Aye’ shut your trap LT, it matters okay! It might not matter to me or you, but it matters to them…”

Just as he was about to give up and face the loss, Johnny’s eyes widened. A flicker of light beaming in those baby blues that both relieved, and scared the other men around him. “AYE I’M A GENIUS!” He all but yelled out in joy, hands coming up to shake Ghost’s shoulders. “I’m not wearing a tutu Soap…”, “Shut up LT,” On any other day, Ghost would’ve reamed him for speaking to him like that- but he decided to give the man a day off. Just this once.

“Right, here’s the plan. Music- ON. Gaz, walk. Price, walk, Ghost, walk. All the bridesmaids, walk. Ring bearer, as long as he isn’t sniffling into a tissue too, WALK. And then me…” His smile was so wide his face could’ve split into two parts. They all looked baffled at each other, “Soap mate, that’s great but… that doesn’t solve your flower girl issue?”, “Wait and see Gazalicious��� just you wait!” They watched as he ran off back into the building behind him, temporarily getting lost as he darted in one direction then came back sprinting in the other.

Gaz, Ghost and Price readied themselves behind the doors, waiting for the music to begin and to walk down the aisle themselves. “He doesn’t have any C4 on him does he?” Price whispered to Ghost, extremely concerned for his undisclosed, ‘genius’, solution. “Screened him, from his bags all the way down to his boxers… got nothin’ mate.”

The speakers scratched and the music began to play. Your bridesmaids surrounded you, ensuring everything about you looked as polished and perfect as you planned. Air filled your lungs as you took a deep breath, you were in no way nervous or doubtful in your decision. You just prayed you wouldn’t fall down that goddamn aisle.

You watched through tearful eyes as you saw the members of 141 each take their turn. Walking towards their positions towards the front of the ceremony. His best men.

All your bridesmaids followed, your maid of honor planting a kiss on your cheek for good luck, pinkies crossing together. “I hope you enjoy the surprise babe,” she giggles, and before you can ask, what the hell is that supposed to mean, she takes her turn. Surprise? What the hell?

All of a sudden, the music changes to something you hadn’t planned. Oh my god, it’s all going wrong. You cast a glance towards the start of the aisle, through a different door than you were at, where Johnny should be walking down. And then you spot him. Immaculately dressed in his tux, which he refused to let you get a sneak peek at if you didn’t let him see your dress. “It’s only fair, bonnie”. Not a strand of hair out of place- definitely Ghost’s work.

But, he’d added some accessories…

A pair of huge sunglasses frame his face with a basket of white and pink petals slung on his arm. He stands there, shoulders wide, serious look plastered on his face. He turns his head from one side, to the other, and starts to walk.

Ever so delicately, for a man of his size, he grasps pinches of petals before dashing them down the aisle. Sprinkling the flora down to his feet with the grace of a ballerina. Gleeful laughs erupt from your family and friends at this ‘surprise’. He’s even got the officiant laughing. With another handful of petals, he twirls around in place, before launching the flowers to his left side, and then some to his right. Petal after petal is scattered as he makes his way down towards the arch. The final handful is blown gently from his hand, into poor Ghost’s face. The lieutenant can’t help but laugh along with him, all his moodiness still intact. Johnny places the basket down, before turning around, and the four of them gather in a group hug, cackling away to themselves as cheering surrounds them.

Silently, without asking or worrying you, Johnny had fixed a problem you didn’t even realise you had. You’re about to marry the best man you’ve ever met, and you couldn’t be happier.

Word Count: 1129

[ohbo-ohno]

Ooh, vampire Ghost putting human Soap in a muzzle gag both as to degrade him and hear his muffled noises, taking his ability to speak like he was an animal, while also it having delicious irony since it’s something you’d more associate with vampires due to the threat of fangs. Collars biting into his neck that Ghost says are for his own good otherwise someone could bite him. Plugging his cum in Johnny’s holes up with Soap’s own old vampire fighting equipment. And Soap is helpless against it all and has to start liking it even to cope with his situation.

oh my god i have no idea what i posted or when to get this gift of an ask but WOW it is beautiful and wonderful and ily

vampire hunter soap who is soooo determined to kill ghost but is just disgustingly outclassed. maybe he's trying to prove himself to other hunters, maybe he's trying to earn his way back into society after some sort of mistake, or maybe he's just young cocky and dumb, but regardless he's hunting after ghost with a single minded intensity

and vampire ghost usually just slaughters any humans who try and fight him. maybe he'll play with them for a bit, but humans are so boring to someone as old and strong as he is

johnny, for whatever reason, peaks his interest. maybe it's the way he smells/tastes, maybe it's the way he's so determined to kill ghost, but it's something. and ghost turns his first human in centuries (and probably the first he actually plans to keep)

tbh im not sure in an au like this if ghost fully shows johnny how to Live, and then conditions him back down to how he wants. i personally don't love the idea of johnny not knowing how to exist without ghost, just because it's so extreme in this case, but i feel like realistically ghost is making sure johnny is dependent on him for everythingggggg

i loooove your muzzle idea!!! also imaging ghost keeping johnny muzzled 24/7, except when johnny's feeding (and always from ghost). so eventually when ghost takes the muzzle off, johnny's already got his mouth open for whatever ghost wants to give him :( helps with his throat training quite a bit <3

big thick leather collar all around johnny's neck, and no matter how much he claws at it and whines ghost doesn't take it off. says it's for his own protection, tugs the cloth away from johnny's neck a bit and says you want me to bite you, pup? not sure i could resist with the way you smell, you want me to bury my fangs right here? and smirks when johnny gets all horny and scared :(

ghost filing down johnny's fangs when he bites down too deep during one feeding session :( he has to start cutting himself for johnny to feed because his boy's too weak now, but he loooves feeling johnny's dull baby fangs try desperately to pierce his skin when he gets hungry

ghost taking johnny hunting, holding him close and showing him how to stalk his human prey. whispering in johnny's ears about all the times ghost did this to him, all the things he saw johnny say and do, all the mistakes he made. when johnny's humanity kicks back in at the last minute before killing his first human, ghost holds his jaw open and forces his teeth into their victims throat

ghost jacking johnny off every time he feeds, to give him a positive association with something he still fundamentally hates so much. loves how teary and upset johnny gets, how conflicted he is. praises his boy endlessly when johnny starts getting hard without even needing his fist right after a fresh kill

[skylermadness]

Rustic Cabin (Lumberjack TF/MC/AP)

(Original Date of Upload: February 25, 2022)

I was going to upload this last year but it was sitting in my drafts because the formatting scared me.

Original Description:

Here it is, one of my favorite works to have written thus far! I had this idea mulling in my head for a few months now, admittedly, so finally writing it and getting it out there is really cathartic. And this is definitely one of my favorite human TFs to have written so far, especially since I was trying something a little new with it. I do think it would look better with formatting but unfortunately that never translates well over when you make it a .txt file. Nonetheless I hope it turned out just as good for everyone to read as it did for me to write!

   There was a feeling of comfort surrounding the man. Surrounding him was nothing but massive trees as far as the eye can see. It was beautiful. Comforting. It felt just like home for someone like him.

   A massive, hairy hand clasped onto the axe. The worn wood sent another pang of familiarity through his nerves. Over a decade, almost two, of use and it's still going strong.

   With a strength he didn't think he had before, he lifted up the axe and began to eye the tree. A noticeable indent was within the tree. So many years of work finally coming to a climax.

   He hauled the axe backwards and paused to savour the moment, and with one last swing…

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

   From what was once a previously unconscious state, verdant green eyes shot open. Forced open, rather. An annoying buzzing had started to go on and off.

    "Grrhg… I thought I had turned that off…"

   A young man laid on his back and stretched an arm out to a nearby counter before promptly slamming a fist down on a button, one that belonged to his alarm clock.

   He stared at the ceiling for a moment. A strange, foresty smell lingered in his nose, accompanied by glimpses of a forest within his mind. A part of him knew this was from a dream he had last night, but he couldn't quite remember much else. He wished he was able to stay asleep longer to find out.

   The man sat up and scratched his stubbly chin. "Today's s'pose to be my day off," he muttered to himself.

   This is Victor Marshall, and this was indeed supposed to be his day off. To be more accurate, it was his week off from work. And he was hoping to get a little more sleep in, in comparison to a normal weekday. But it was unlikely he'd be able to get back to sleep now.

   Resolving to reluctantly start his day, Victor sluggishly ran through his morning routine. Brushing his teeth, showering, aimlessly checking random sites for any updates. After showering he haphazardly threw on a navy blue hoodie, black sweat shorts, and some plain white socks. He didn't even bother to comb his hair, deciding to keep it in the messy style that he had preferred over the "prim and proper" style he felt obliged to have for work.

   After one last glance at Twitter, Victor shut off his phone and headed down to the kitchen to prepare himself some breakfast. He had a lingering mood for pancakes that he couldn't quite place the origin of. But finding them to be a little too work intensive for having just woken up he chose to just scramble a few eggs and call it a day.

   Once breakfast was all prepared Victor took a seat at the kitchen table and pulled out his phone again. A realization was beginning to dawn on the young man.

   He had nothing to do on his week off.

   While sitting around and aimlessly wandering the Internet had seemed to be an appealing expenditure of time, something was welling up inside Victor. He wanted to do something… more. 

   Unfortunately he didn't have too many options. His friends all still had work at their own jobs, and he wasn't too interested in doing something by himself like watching a movie or continuing one of the numerous game playthroughs he has hanging in the air.

   Twirling a fork in the air, Victor tried to think of something to do. Suddenly, a message notification pinged on his phone. Glancing down he saw it was from his father.

DAD Hey, kiddo! Heard you got a week off!

   Victor tapped the notification and responded.

YOU Hi dad. Yeah, got some time off. still trying to find something to do to spend that time.

DAD I don't have too much in mind, but I hope you can come up with something.

   Helpful, Victor thought. 

DAD Actually come to think of it… Do you remember Uncle Lance?

   Victor tilted his head. Uncle Lance… He couldn't quite put a face to the name, but it was familiar.

YOU not very well.

DAD I expected that. I think the last time you saw him you were still a little tyke. And that was what? 20-something years ago?

YOU Good job on making me feel old there, dad.

DAD Not as old as your old man! And definitely not as old as Lance would've been!

   Victor smiled, but he had to get his dad back on track…

YOU So who exactly is Lance?

DAD My older brother. He was such a great guy! He worked as a logger. Specifically at this cabin he owned all those years ago! Although after he went missing the ownership was transferred to your pa over here.

YOU er, missing?

DAD Yeah… we never quite got the details of it, unfortunately.  But that's beside the point! I think that cabin would be a nice vacation spot for a bit, if you're interested.

   Victor looked up from his phone and thought. It might be nice. Getting out for a bit. Although he was still a little curious about Lance's disappearance. But judging by the conversation switch it appears his dad might not have wanted to speak too much about it. After a few seconds he looked back at his phone.

YOU alright, yeah, I'm interested. send the directions if you have them.

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

 �� The cabin was located in a northern portion of his county, specifically a heavily forested region of it.

   Victor chose to only pack a few extra sets of clothing and his laptop. His father had assured him that the cabin was still well kept and that he had tried to "modernize it" a little in the event he ever decided to stay there. Although knowing dad, modernizing might be a stretch.

   The actual drive there was lengthy, almost half the day to be precise. Over the course of hours Victor watched as city skylines shifted to heavy forestry, packed highways dispersed into nigh-uninhabited roads, and the touch of humanity faded away as he went further up north.

   Once he got far enough his car was coaxed off the road by a dirt path wide enough for vehicles to pass through. Victor started to drive onto the path, his eyes occasionally looking away to take in the forest. Massive trees towered over the pathway with the sun shining through the cracks in the foliage. The only signs of fauna was the sound of chirping birds that echoed through the branches. Something about this forest felt welcoming to Victor. Welcoming and familiar.

   Ten minutes after entering the forest his car started to pull up to a clearing. A few birds flew up from the ground as he stopped, and his eyes started to take in where he was. Victor got out of his car and started to inspect the location.

   The clearing itself was the same packed dirt as the path save for a few patches of grass starting to sprout through. A log cabin stood in the middle of it surrounded by the dense forest. As for the trees, all of the trees looked fairly similar… except one.

   It was a tree that was beside his car. It was just as tall as all the others, just as thick too. But on the side of the tree facing towards the cabin was a dent. It was as if someone had been heaving an axe into it. Etched above that dent was a set of lines, seven to be exact.

   "Must've been uncle Lance's work…" Victor muttered to himself. He placed a hand on the etched lines, a feeling of familiarity yet again running through his veins. He felt almost entranced… but he broke out almost instantly, shaking his head. "That was weird."

   Disregarding whatever just happened Victor went to the back of his car and pulled out the dufflebag containing his items before heading into the cabin. The sound of the dirt crunching beneath his sneakers as he did so felt oddly calming.

   Flicking a lightswitch Victor found that the cabin had only a small layer of dust and next to no cobwebs. Once he walked in he found himself in the cabin's living room. Inside it was a sofa with a small table beside it, and a fireplace in front of it with a few empty vases perched above it. On the left to the living room was a kitchen that seemed fairly modern containing a functional stove, microwave, and blender positioned adjacent to a kitchen island. As for the right there was a bedroom with a large, comfortable looking bed covered with a red plaid patterned blanket. Beside it was a bedside table and a door that presumably led to the bathroom.

   Victor heaved the dufflebag onto the couch and started to look around a bit more. This place had an air of age to it, but it still had the touch of something recent. All the wood and carpets looked clean (or as clean as something with a slight layer of dust can be). And the touch of technology was almost non-existent, yet the kitchen was new and there were a few power outlets. 

   Victor's eyes locked back onto the shelf that was above the fireplace. Between the vases was a framed photo.

   Walking towards the shelf and taking a hold of the picture frame, Victor found the image to be of a man. He was rather large, a mix of muscular and fat. The man was clad in overalls and a flannel, the first few buttons of his shirt unbuttoned to reveal his hairy chest. He seemed to be rather hirsute in general judging by his arms. One arm was holding an axe over his shoulder. He sported a thick beard with specks of grey on the chin, short hair that was greying at the sides, and a face that looked to be weathered. Through it all he sported a great smile, one that seemed to be of pride. 

   The man's smile made Victor smile. "This must be Uncle Lance," he said to himself. The man looked so happy. So jovial. Seeing this image alone had made Victor wish that he had met Lance.

   Placing the picture back onto the shelf, his eyes then caught onto something on the wall. It was an axe. Although the blade was rusted and the wood looked extremely chipped. Victor started to walk over to it, knowing it to be the axe his uncle used. 

   He felt overwhelmed with something. A feeling that maybe he too could wield that object. But the moment the skin of his hand touched the handle he was forced to retract his arm, hissing in pain. He spat out a "Fuck!" as he started to hold his wrist. "Must've gotten a splinter!" What had possessed him to touch old wood!

   He moved into the bedroom and started to look through the bedside table's drawers. He wasn't sure if a pair of tweezers would be in this place but he could only hope to find one.

   Unfortunately, a few minutes of hopeless drawer searching had been fruitless. No tweezers could be found, and strangely he found that his finger no longer hurt. Upon closer inspection, the splinter was gone…

   Victor chose not to think too much about it. But now that he was in the bedroom, curiosity started to bud inside him.

   Not too much was on the bedroom's tables save for another picture of Lance, this time with a younger Westley- er- his dad. Beside the doorway was a dresser that contained numerous briefs, jeans, and suspenders. And next to that dresser was a closet.

   Inside the closet were only flannels, all with plaid patterns. The only differentiation was the color of them which usually ranged from red, blue, green, and brown. 

   Victor took hold of a flannel. It looked so new, yet it still seems worn a little. And there was this smell, this musk coming off of it. It made his mind feel a little hazy.

   Hanging the flannel back up, he decided to stop skulking around his uncle's former living place and take a well deserved rest. Unfortunately, once he sat down and pulled out his phone he found the cabin had no reception. The last thing he had received was a text from his dad telling him to have fun. 

   Victor shrugged and placed the phone on the table beside the couch. He thought about pulling out his laptop and maybe forfeiting some of his downtime in order to work on some work documents, but he decided against it.

   Maybe sitting back and taking in the sounds of the outside would be good…

   The light of the evening Sun shone through the window as he began to relax. The bird chirps had slowed down, replaced with the rustling of the trees in the wind. The smell of the forest penetrated his olfactory senses again as he drifted into an almost daydream-like state.

   The feeling of longing to meet his uncle started to enter his mind. But he also felt like this was how his uncle spent his days when he wasn't working, just taking in the reality of where he lived. Perhaps this might be a great week for him after all.

   What felt like minutes to Victor was actually a few hours, with the Sun having now set and the darkness of the night now visible outside. The light of the cabin gave a sweet sense of solace, though. 

   Victor blinked and peeled himself off the couch. He turned his head to the kitchen and saw the time of day. After all of that he somehow felt tired and his muscles were starting to ache.

   He got up and started to head towards the bedroom. While passing a window his eyes caught a glimpse of a deer in the clearing. Another aspect of familiarity for the man…

   After reaching the bedroom Victor kicked off his shoes. But without even removing the rest of his clothes he instantly collapsed onto the bed with the sweet embrace of sleep taking him not even a few seconds later.

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

   Victor's muscles continued to ache as he slept, which had caused the entire cycle to be discomforting. Every few hours he'd toss and turn while grunting, muttering in his sleep on how he should probably be a little less intense during his work. Unbeknownst to him his aches were caused by something else. Something settling in his body.

   At first it was growing pains. A slow growth spurt occuring in his sleep, bones in his arms, legs, and back lengthening with each passing hour. There were times he'd hear a soft crack in a joint or in his back, an event that forced him to think again about work. About not overworking himself. 

   The growing pains were accompanied by muscle aches. While his limbs lengthened, they also bulked. Muscle mass growing in his arms and legs. His pectorals subtly increased in size while abs began to form. His hands were catching up with the changes too, growing larger and meatier. His fingers were basically sausages now.

   There was a point in the night where Victor resolved to sleep on his back. Loud snoring started to escape his throat at this time, having replaced what was once his quiet sleeping behavior.

   His noticeable musculature didn't last very long after that. With each inhale came a bit of bloating in his body. Fat started to accumulate on his belly, his hoodie starting to ride up it as a result. A set of moobs soon melted out from his pectorals. Many  of his features had also grown softer, his arms and legs looking thicker while his face looked chubbier.

   Another aspect of discomfort was then added in the form of itching. Victor placed a massive hand on his belly as it  began. This was due to hair starting to grow out of his body. A treasure trail was growing up the middle of his belly. Thick hairs were growing on the back of his hands and all over his arms. A bushy mustache grew out of his upper lip while the remainder of his facial stubble grew into a short beard. And as for the hair on his head, it looked to be shortening and darkening. All of this new hair was a deep black instead of the brown he once had.

   A  wave of changes then washed through his clothing. All of them grew to become a little bit more fitting on his body, but a few more adjustments had to be made. One of the sleeves of his hoodie began to roll up. Splotches of plaid-patterned red started to appear in the blue fabric. The hood itself began to shrink into more of a collar. Even a few buttons emerged while the beginnings of a split formed in the middle of the hoodie. The legs of his sweat shorts grew longer while the fabric thinned. And despite the fact he wasn't wearing his shoes, they were experiencing multiple shifts too: deepening from white to brown, the topline rising, and the overall look of them growing bulkier.

   It was here the changes were beginning to slow. Specks of grey were starting to shine in some portions of his hair, the palms of his hands seemed a little rougher, and his height had finished increasing significantly. His clothing had also paused mid-changes.

   Victor huffed as something began to shine in his eye. It was sunlight. How was it morning already?

   He blinked his eyes, mind still feeling tired. Last night was… severely uncomfortable. Maybe it was because this was a new place to sleep?

   As he shifted around his bed the springs creaked under his weight. Did they do that before? He could've sworn they didn't…

   He draped his legs and stood up off the bed. He caught a glimpse of his footwear, which now looked like a weird mix of sneakers and leather boots. But he didn't have too much time to dwell on that because he really needed to go to the bathroom now.

   Each step to the bathroom felt heavier than he remembered. The wooden floorboards would sometimes creak beneath his feet. Come to think of it, everything felt heavier than before. He unintentionally placed a hand on his belly and felt the thickness of it, which forced him to look down to see how big he's gotten. He… he wasn't always like this was he?? And why… why did his hoodie look partially like a flannel.

   Walking into the bathroom then brought him to a mirror, face to face with himself. Wider, chubbier face; thicker facial hair; black instead of brown hair; so much was… different.

   "What… happened last night…" he asked himself. His voice was so deep. Gruffer than it was before. He looked down and undid a few buttons of his hoodie-flannel to find that his chest had gotten hairier. "I wasn't always this hairy was I??"

   A headache started to emerge in his mind. He was so confused. "Uuugh… get a hold of yourself, Vic… Vi…"

   He forgot his name.

   He placed his two meaty hands at the sides of his head, letting out a few ragged breaths as he did so. His head was swimming in thoughts- his body, his clothing,  his name, even his own memories. Everything is conflicting with itself! But something was there trying to reassure him everything was normal. Everything was fine.

   "C'mon… Vin… Vince, everything's fine," he told himself. He's been living in this cabin for a few… months was it, now? Nothing about this should be out of the ordinary!

   He was snapped out of the chaos of his mind by the sound of his stomach rumbling. He gave his tummy a knowing pat while smiling weakly. "Maybe I should follow up on that cravin' yesterday and make myself some flapjacks…"

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

   "Nothin' like the smell of flapjacks in the morning!"

   He wasn't quite sure how this oven got here. He could've sworn it wasn't there last he checked! But he didn't care too much. He somehow knew how to use it, and he could still make that sweet smelling breakfast that always made his day better. Especially after that morning he had!

   The sound of Vince's weird footwear clomping on the ground of the cabin was slightly off putting. He was still a little confused about everything in general, honestly. His mind felt hazy, like something wasn't there yet. But maybe that's just the last remnants of sleep. Maybe after filling his belly and getting some energy he'd feel better!

   It took a few more minutes to fully prepare the remainder of his meal, but soon he found himself with those fluffy flapjacks. Once they'd been accompanied by a small slice of butter and some syrup he knew everything was ready.

   The moment he shoved a forkful of flapjacks into his mouth he was practically assaulted with flavor. So fluffy, so buttery, so sweet… it was as if he were trying these for the first time! And as Vince continued to dig into his breakfast, a new surge of changes ran through him… 

   Another round of fat started to pile up in his belly. If he stood up he would've noticed he was losing all sight of his legs and feet. His shoulders then broadened in order to keep up with his new body shape.

   In spite of that, his body wanted to persist. Bouts of strength radiated from his core and throughout his body. And even though it wasn't visible under all of that fat, he was gaining another burst of muscle mass.

   Specks of hair grew out all over his chest, with a thick thatch of it now visible from the portion of unbuttoned shirt he still had. His beard grew out becoming larger, thicker, a proper beard for someone like him! The hair on his head continued to shorten, however, and his hairline seemed to recede a bit.

   His clothing caught up to the changes too. The other sleeve of his shirt rolled itself up. The remainder of the hoodie shrunk into a proper collar. The splotches of plaid spread and got rid of any remaining blue while also thinning the fabric a little. More buttons trailed down the shirt until it became a proper flannel. Even a breast pocket emerged on the right side of the split.

   His sweat shorts could no longer be called that. The legs had grown so long they went a little above his ankles, the fabric changed to be a little thinner, and belt loops had manifested around the waist. A brown leather belt soon slithered around the man's waist before promptly buckling itself. And that wasn't the end of it's changes as straps slunk up the front and back of his body, snaking and branching in order to change those pants into suspenders.

   His footwear had finished their own changes too. The material changed completely into hard, brown leather. The topline reached pretty high, halfway up his lower leg. Shoe strings materialized and clasped the lip of the boot to his leg snuggly. 

   His mind clicked right when two clicks rang from the straps of his suspenders fastening themselves onto the pants. Licking what food remained off his lips, the burly bear of a man gave himself a good look.

   He smiled. "I don't think I've eaten like that in a decade! Always makin' yourself proud, eh Vance?" He didn't care that his body looked different. Or his clothes. Or even the fact his voice was so deep and powerful. 

   With his plate pretty much cleaned off he rose from his seat and took a look around. That air of familiarity he had yesterday, that was all because this was his home. It had been for a good while. He couldn't get the years right, but he knew he'd been here for a long time taking in the nature of the world around him. 

   Then a new memory popped up. Something he'd been wanting to do for a long time.

   His axe hung mounted on the living room wall. Wood worn, metal rusted. He couldn't remember how it got like that. He could've sworn he used it yesterday…

   Vance clasped onto the axe and lifted it from its perch. Holding onto it… it felt so different…

   In mere moments Vance's body changed for one last time. Where his hands met the axe his skin calloused and scarred with years of work getting put in them in seconds. More and more greys speckled into the black of his hair giving his body hair and beard a salt and pepper look. Grey also settled into the sides and back of his head hair. His hairline continued to recede a little, stopping right before it would be considered balding. And the remainder of his head hair shortened for one last time into a soft mat of hair.

   His face weathered and aged. Crows' feet indenting themselves into the ends of his eyes, wrinkles forming in his face, and a few stretch marks emerging through it all. It would settle to what would presumably be his late 50's, if he could remember his age properly.

   As for the axe, it underwent the opposite. The wood fixed itself by smoothing up and filling in chips, but it still retained a bit of wearing to it. Rust chipped off the blade and dissipated, the blade ending up looking cleaner and functional. This was the axe that Lance knew.

   Hauling the axe over his shoulder Lance smiled proudly. He knew what he was doing today.

   The lumberjack headed outside and took a moment to breathe the fresh forest air. It smelled like his dreams, he thought. Then he headed towards where the road met the clearing. A big red pickup truck was visible on the road. But that wasn't what he was headed towards. 

   He was headed towards a tree. The tree.

   It was bulkier in comparison to the rest. The trunk was really thick. A sign of it being really old. Likely older than him. The tree had a wedge in it, years of hacking away at it signified by this wedge alone. The seven lines above that wedge each stood for a year. He's been working on this tree for seven years.

   "And today I'm taking you down…"

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

   There was a feeling of comfort surrounding the man. Surrounding him was nothing but massive trees as far as the eye can see. It was beautiful. Comforting. It felt just like home for someone like him.

   A massive, hairy hand clasped onto the axe. The worn wood sent another pang of familiarity through his nerves. Over a decade, almost two, of use and it's still going strong.

   With a strength he didn't think he had before, he lifted up the axe and began to eye the tree. A noticeable indent was within the tree. So many years of work finally coming to a climax.

   He hauled the axe backwards and paused to savour the moment, and with one last swing…

   The sound of breaking wood could be heard as the tree started to fall into the forest behind it. Lance bellowed, "TIMBER!!!" as it did so.

   Finally, it was complete.

   He'd give one of the guys a call tomorrow to pick it up. It should have a good lot of lumber considering its size and width.

   Taking a look at the sky he saw that it had already become evening. This work was always so time-consuming, but in a good way. He enjoyed it.

   Once Lance was back inside his cabin he hung up his axe for the day. The man mused on how one of his buds would always tell him he'd always get the job done faster with a chainsaw. Maybe they were right, but something about heaving an axe at the trunk felt like it carried more weight to him. 

   He took a seat on the couch and let out a content sigh. Another day of work done, now it's time to relax a little and listen to the world around him. Although he did notice a few peculiarities, like a duffle bag he couldn't remember owning and a… cell phone on the desk…

   He picked up the cell phone and pressed the power button. Somehow it's battery still hadn't died. He instinctively unlocked the phone, Lance unsure how he ever knew the password. The last thing that was open was a message application to someone named "Dad". And for some reason, seeing the word dad reminded him of his brother Westley… It brought him back to that picture on his nightstand of him and his brother.

   Maybe he should take some time to visit him…

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

   Less than a week since Westley sent that last text to Victor. He kind of felt bad for neglecting to mention the cabin would have no signal.

   He wasn't sure why he brought up his brother's cabin in the first place. Considering Lance had gone missing there twenty years prior with no evidence as to how it happened wasn't really reassuring. But it was oddly compelling to do so. His son needed something to do and he was happy to provide…

   Westley sunk into his slightly oversized polo and looked over at a picture of him and Lance. He really did miss him…

   As if on cue he heard the sound of a car pull up outside his home. He had assumed it to be his son's convertible but after a cursory look out the window he found it to be an all too familiar pickup truck. He walked outside in confusion. They never found the truck either so why would it be outside his house?

   He heard a door slam all-to-hard before a figure stepped out from behind the truck. Clad in a flannel, suspenders, and leather boots; and just as hairy as he was when Westley last saw him; alive and walking towards him was Lance.

   The bearish man let out a hardy laugh. "There's my favorite brother! It feels like it's been years since I've last seen you!"

   Westley stepped back a bit, awestruck. "Lance? I thought…"

   He wasn't given a chance to finish his sentence as he was scooped into the warm embrace of his older brother. A slight headache formed in his head as all recollection of his brother's disappearance faded away.

   Lance let Westley out of the hug and smiled. "You thought what?"

   Westley looked down for a moment. "I uh, don't remember… But a part of me feels really glad to see you…"

   Lance placed a hand on Westley's shoulder. "I knew you missed me!"

   Westley smiled. "Yeah. I did…"

[lvlyghost]

Salvation II

Pairings: John Price x F!Reader

Summary: after a few months since his last visit, john finally gets the chance to see the girl.

Word Count: 1.2k

Tw:angst, fluff, slightly suggestive (not really) but just in case, mentions of abduction but nothing too explicit. kate shows up bc we stan🫶🏻 john being a softie 🥹✨💞also not proofread🐸

A/N: omg i can't thank y'all enough for the love the first part got🫰🏻🥰 I hope you like this part as much! Please remember english isn't my first language, corrections are appreciated as usual🩵

Masterlist✨ | Part I | Part III

The soft sound of rain outside the house, lightning and a thunder shake the windows. Carrying two cups of hot cocoa in both hands as she walks where John is waiting for her in the living room. He's scrolling through his phone and immediately puts it down when he sees her. A soft smile makes its way to his lips.

She figured she'd make something warm for them to drink. The rain had come pouring down unexpectedly at the fair, which made them run to John's car to no avail. They were soaking wet by the time they reached the automobile, laughing and enjoying the presence of each other.

"We should take a bath before we get sick."

He had suggested, as soon as she opened the door. John had tried to shield her with his coat and beanie, although it could only do so much. Her teeth were chattering, still never losing that damn smile he had grown fond of.

So here they were now, engulfed in their pajamas ready to get some rest. The stuffed otter was placed on the sofa across from him. She handed John the mug to which he thanked and took a small sip.

"Probably not as good as your Earl Grey but..."

"It's perfect, love. C'mere." He pats the empty spot next to him. She obliges, crossing her legs as she sits. A comfortable silence falls between the two for a moment when the sky rumbles again.

"Doctor said once I'm able to go back to social life I should try to go on a date you know?" She began, shaking her head as if the mere idea was delusional. Her thumb absentmindedly tracing the rim of the mug. "Get to know people. She called it healing." She scoffs. "As if it was that easy."

Taking a sip, John watches as she bites her lip. He can't help it but a strange feeling sets in his gut.

"Is that so crazy, sweetheart?" She turns to him, studying his features with a small frown. "You deserve to be happy. Every single day, you deserve that and much more."

"I... I-" she stutters. "What if they think I'm weird John? I can hardly be myself. What happens when they ask about my life? I'm scared. Every time I close my eyes I'm back in that place..." she glances up to the ceiling, glossy eyes threatening to mimic the pouring rain outside. "I'm never going to be normal. Never going to be whole again...-

"Are you afraid of me?" He interrupts her, forcing her to turn to gaze at him. Swallowing saliva, she meets his bright blue eyes. He's dead serious. The cup long forgotten as he had placed it on the small coffee table. She shook her head.

"You saved me. You've seen what I've been through, and no,..." she stops him when he opens his mouth. "I know you've read the files. You must've in order to know what you were getting yourself into, John. And not just you but your team. And every time you look at me I see it. You were there when I testified... no one knows better than you... nobody knows me better than you." She's choking on her own words when she's finished, tears streaming down her face.

John wastes no time, pulling her into his lap as she hugs him as if her life depends on him.

It probably did.

Sobbing and hiding her face in the crook of his neck she feels the pain, the tension, the agony subside; John holds her small shaking frame against his body. He was often scared to touch her even if it was something so innocent like a hug. Something like this. Even when he wanted nothing more than to be near her. Be the one to shield her from the bad dreams, when the memories of the atrocious life she was forced to endure came to haunt her. He's tracing soft circles on her arm in an attempt to soothe her.

"I could never be afraid of you." She assures him.

-

"Do you know how many people I had to call?" Kate asks him not waiting for a response. Both looking at the girl sitting in the room behind the tinted window. "Twelve."

"I get it Kate." He grumbles. "Thank you. I owe you." He crosses his arms not losing sight of the girl he recently rescued. "I just wish they had given her more time to heal. She's in a bad shape, can't they bloody see?"

"I was thinking the same, but the clock is ticking. We can't afford to lose more time."

He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. He's barely gotten any sleep since the mission. She had held his arm the entire ride back. Squeezing with all the strength she had left in her system

"What's gonna happen to her once this is over?"

Kate side eyes John, wondering why he cares so much.

"The NCA will take over from here. Most likely be put under witness protection and given a new identity. Just like the rest of the survivors."

"Hmm." Grunting he takes a step forward.

"John?" She quirks a brow.

"I might just need one last favor."

"Of course." She rolls her eyes feigning annoyance. "This is gonna cost you two tickets for the soccer game next week."

John turns to her.

"You mean the football match?" He politely corrects her.

"I meant what I meant."

"All I remember that morning is I was getting ready for high school. Said goodbye to my grandmother and left. We lived in a complex of apartments with an underground parking lot. She had an old red cavalier that belonged to my grandfather. Last thing I recall is opening the door and then nothing. Just... nothing for years."

-

She feels John standing up from the sofa carrying her body in his strong arms. She doesn't have to look, just know he's taking her to the bedroom. Before he can lay her down on the mattress she gets off of him. Bare feet touching the cool wooden floor. John is about to ask what's wrong. Maybe he made it look like...

She kisses him on the lips. It's quick and it takes him by surprise. Her cheeks flush and eyes go wide, he smiles fondly.

"Do that again." He prompts her.

"Will you stay with me tonight?" She asks with pleading eyes.

"For as long as you want me to." She grabs him by the neck and pulls him down to her level.

"It's okay John. Even if I have ghosts I know you'll make them disappear."

That's all he needs to hear. His hands find her waist, all doubt gone. All this time he was terrified that he'd scare her, not wanting to make the first move. John respected her and wanted the girl to feel safe around him. That's why now after hearing those words he lets himself feel her. The soft edges of her delicate skin. Her labored breathing.

He kisses her soft lips, hand coming up to caress her cheek and then, right there he knows she's let all her walls down for him. Letting him in, see all the parts she thought would have to bury for eternity.

He ought to do the same for her. He has his own ghosts. John needed salvation too. Perhaps in a different way.

And if anyone ever dare to try to harm her, taker her away from him...

He'd kill them all.

[tbznewberry]

The boyz become human — part 3

Part 2

Despite being wary of her 11 androids, Y/N decides to take them in when needing repair. What she doesn't know is that they're breaking their programs, one by one.

Genre: yandere, sci-fi, Detroit become human au

Warnings: attacks, creepy behavior, not sure what more to put :]

They come back to the police station in time for lunch. The human colleagues are gathering in the lunch room while the eleven androids make their way to their office to read some files. Gathering all information takes less than ten minutes, much quicker than any human ever could. Humans don’t seem to understand how they can communicate without talking. And they don’t either. They just do. 

“I’m so happy you came to get me!” a man’s voice says — Y/N’s friend.

“I’m not only here for you”, Y/N sighs. “I’m here to talk to someone.”

Their heads turn to the glass door upon hearing her voice. They can see her walk with her arms crossed and him in tow. 

“And to get me”, the guy sing-songs. 

Y/N turns to him. The androids can tell how her anger is rising and boiling inside of her.

“You’re so selfish!” she hisses. “You knew I didn’t want to be dragged along to that fucking concert, yet you did! I came with you because I was tired of you whining every single friday. You never listened when I told you ‘no’! I thought that something with you would end your nagging. And what do you do? You ruin both our nights because you decide to get wasted and fight with a stranger! Do you understand how embarrassing it all was for me? And how humiliated I feel coming her to pick you up like I’m your fucking mother?”

“I’m sorry, Y/N.”

“I’ve bailed you out so just leave now. I have to talk with the chief of police.” 

“About what?”

“The fucking androids I’ve created! If it weren't for you, I wouldn’t have met them yesterday and complicated things!”

“I thought you liked them.”

“Of course I do. I love them. Now leave.”

The man gives up and walks. Y/N sighs and runs her hand through her hair. She looks around and meets Jacob’s eyes. For a few seconds she freezes, staring right back before hurrying away. They look at each other before turning back to their computers. 

After a while, the glass door to the office opens and the chief of police alongside Y/N enters. 

“Can we have your attention?” the chief of police asks. 

“Absolutely, sir”, Younghoon answers.

“You’ll be sent back to Cyberlife for repairs tomorrow morning.”

“We understand, sir”, Sangyeon says.

The police walk out with an annoyed sigh. Now he’s losing his androids. Y/N walks over to their table with her bottom lip tucked between her teeth. 

“I’m sorry for my temper this morning”, she says quietly. “I didn’t mean to sound so angry.”

“No harm done, we can’t feel upset”, Jaehyun says. 

“No … but I can … and I didn’t mean to be such a bitter bitch. I’m not a morning person. And I’m sorry that you had to see me scold my friend. I've cut off the contact with him.”

“Good, I think he deserved all it”, Eric says. “Don’t feel so guilty, Y/N. You didn’t upset us. You could never upset us.”

“Yes, I know that you don’t feel emotions.”

“Not only that”, Sunwoo smiles. “Even if we could feel emotions you wouldn’t be able to upset us.”

“Oh … uh … thank you. Anyways, I came here to tell you something.” She walks towards the table and Jacob pulls out a chair for her where she sits down. “It’s my idea to send you back to Cyberlife to see why you seem to be able to make your own decisions. But if they don’t figure it out, I’m allowed to work on you.”

“Us being able to make some decisions for ourselves scares you, don’t it?” Sangyeon asks. “That’s why you wanted us to leave this morning. And that’s why you want to solve this as quickly as possible.”

“Yes.”

“People are scared that androids will gain real consciousness and start a revolution”, Kevin says. “So you’ll send us back.”

“It’s just for safety reasons”, Y/N insists. 

“Yes, we understand”, Haknyeon says. 

She looks down at her watch. “I have to go now. I have to eat lunch.”

“What are you going to eat?” Juyeon asks. 

“I was thinking italian.”

“From what the internet says, there are three italian restaurants nearby with good reviews”, Chanhee says. “One with 4.76 stars, one with 4.87 stars and one with 4.90 stars.”

Y/N nods. “Thank you. I will see you later. Goodbye, guys.”

She gives them a hasty smile before walking out. 

“She doesn't trust us”, Kevin mutters, eyes following her. “Never has.”

And he’s right. Ever since they opened their eyes for the first time, she’s been cautious and has never felt comfortable. 

“She’ll have to learn to love us”, Eric says. “She’ll have to realize that she’s safe with us. And if she doesn’t do that soon, we’ll have to force her.”

——♤——

Stepping into the lab of Cyberlife reminds them of her again. They sit down on the same chairs they did two months ago. Silently hoping and praying for them to not find out what’s wrong with them so they’ll be back in her hands again. The colleague that had been working with Y/N steps in. They already know what he’s going to do — shut them down, look at their memory card, check their system, check every cable and wire to make sure that nothing is wrong. Then he’ll put them back together. Weirdly enough, they find themselves … scared? They don’t want to lose any memories of each other, of their experiences … of her. 

“Nighty night, androids”, the man says before pressing turning off the electricity they’re connected to. 

Everything turns black. 

When they wake up again, the man in front of them frowns deeply. The lab coat he was wearing earlier hangs on his desk and he’s pulled up his sleeves. 

“I can’t find anything wrong with you!” he sighs. “I have no idea what is wrong … I’ll have to contact Y/N. She has to take a look at you.”

They perk up at the sound of her name. Yes please,give them to her. The man picks up her phone, putting it to his ear. 

“Yes, I’m done”, he says. “No, I can’t find anything … I have no idea … yes, I think it’s for the best that you take a look … seriously? How will I- …? But- … yes, I get that, but is that really the best alternative? Fine … fine, whatever you say.” He hangs up and turns to the androids. “Okay, changed plans.”

“Y/N’s not coming?” Jaehyun asks. 

“No …”

They look down. 

“...you’re going to her.”

They all look up again, shocked.

“Y/N says that there’s something at home that prevents her from going here and that it’s more convenient for her if you go over to her house instead”, the man says. “I’ll get you there.”

“No, we know where she lives”, Sangyeon says. “You don’t have to. What is preventing her from leaving her house?”

“She didn’t say.”

“Thank you, we will leave now.”

The man nods and the eleven androids make their way out of the lab side by side. They know they shouldn't take the bus or their own cars. Y/N doesn't seem to have too much space in her driveway and the bus isn't sanitary. Taking a taxi will be just fine. They're automatic anyways.

In twenty minutes they reach Y/N’s house, too slow for their liking. Younghoon knocks on the door and Liv opens.

"Hi, welcome", Y/N says and walks over to them. "Sorry for the inconvenience."

"It's quite alright", Juyeon smiles. 

"What made you unable to leave the house?" Sunwoo asks and scans her, but doesnt find anything. "Is everything okay?"

"Yes, everything is alright. I'll show you why I can't come to the laboratory."

They follow her into the kitchen where they find a little boy by the kitchen table, eating pizza. He looks up, brown, gentle eyes watching the androids. They scan him, finding worry, sadness and fear.

"This is my nephew Jay", Y/N sighs and gestures at the boy. "My sister had to go on an urgent business trip. I have to take care of him."

"I'm sorry, aunt Y/N …", Jay whispers regretfully down into his meal.

"Don't be, I like to have you here." She turns to the androids. "Jay has a hard time in school so I'll have to stay close nearby in case something happens. That's why I had to bring the eleven of you here."

Haknyeon walks over to the little boy, sitting down next to him.

"How old are you?" he asks.

"I'm eight", he whispers.

"You're a big boy then", Jacob smiles.

Jay doesn't answer.

"Are you androids?" he wonders, an ounce of curiosity sparkling up.

"We are", Haknyeon says. "Does that scare you?"

"No, it's cool. Androids are awesome."

"Your aunt designed us", Chanhee smiles with his arms crossed. "She's pretty cool too."

Jay nods.

"Just eat", Y/N smiles and messes up his brown hair. "They'll be staying here for a little while. Liv will help me look after you, Jay, but you know her. You like her, don't you?"

Jay nods. The eleven androids glance at the housekeeper. Day by day, they dislike her more and more.

"I have charging stations for you", Y/N says and waves for them to follow her.

They enter a room right next to the office where she has placed out charging cables evenly throughout the room. There are twelve charging stations. One extra for the housekeeper. If they're going to be staying here, they will be the only androids in this household. 

"I won't be starting with you today", she says. "I want to have a clear head when I work with you and today has been stressful enough. Make yourselves comfortable, I will go back to Jay."

Wherever she goes, they go. 

"Are you following me?" she asks after a while.

"We don't know what else to do", Kevin answers.

“I thought you could make some decisions for yourself.”

“We do”, Sunwoo says. “And now we decide to follow you.”

Y/N sighs and shakes her head with a small smile. “Is this how it’s going to be?”

“Give us a command then”, Younghoon says. 

“Alright. Go sit down in the living room until I come get you.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

They obey, walking into the living room to wait. They can see and hear her walk around, gathering stuff. Younghoon’s eyes get caught on a few pictures hanging on the wall. Y/N’s family, her friends, past dogs, Jay and diplomas from her school along with awards for her work — one of them being from their collaboration. She's so proud of them that she hung it on the wall. What a precious human being.

——♤——

The night comes and Y/N leads the androids into their charging station. Jay follows, curious like a squirrel. She turns off Liv first.

"Y/N", Jacob says, catching her attention. "Leave two of us on. Someone needs to protect the household while you're asleep."

Y/N frowns, glancing at Jay.

"I'm not sure", she says hesitantly.

"Oh, Y/N, it's the logical thing to do", Kevin says. "What if someone breaks in? If we're shut off, we won't be able to help you. Imagine what someone could do to little Jay."

She visibly gulps and nods in defeat.

"Eric, Sunwoo … I'm leaving the two of you on", she says.

The two androids stand up and walk over to the door, over to Jay. Y/N turns off the others by plugging their cords into the back of their necks.

"There we go", she says with a tired sigh. She holds out her hand to the little boy. "Come on, Jay, let's get you to bed."

The two androids still awake follow them to the guest bedroom where Jay is staying. They wait by the door, watching how she tucks him in.

"I don't want to sleep", he whispers.

"Why?" Y/N asks, stroking his hair.

"Because … I don't want to go to school tomorrow …"

"It'll be alright."

The androids scan the little boy. He's terrified.

"Jay, what are you afraid of?" Sunwoo asks.

"The kids don't like me", Jay answers quietly. "They pick on me."

"Boys in school are always cruel", Y/N sighs over her shoulder. "They always choose one student as their victim. And unfortunately, that became Jay."

The two androids look at each other. They have to protect Jay.

Eric makes his way over to the bed.

"Do you like stories, Jay?" he asks.

The boy nods.

"I have a lot", Eric smiles. "Do you want to hear them?"

Jay nods again. While Eric tells him a tale about some of his less dangerous missions, Y/N walks out to the kitchen. Sunwoo follows. She pours herself a glass of cold water and gulps it down. He watches her, studies how her throat moves with each gulp and hands shake when she places the glass on the counter. She's exhausted, worried.

"Are you okay?" the android asks.

She nods.

"Don't lie."

"I'm just tired. And scared for Jay. I don’t want him to feel like that.”

Her sad frown is all he needs to come to a conclusion. He's decided. He's going to make the ones hurting Jay pay. If Jay being safe hurts Y/N, then he'll take care of the ones making the little boy sad.

“He’ll be alright.”

"How do you know that?" Y/N asks. "Can you predict the future?"

"I can predict a future I have decided." 

Y/N lifts her eyebrows before turning around.

"Very poetic of you", she says over her shoulder.

"Thank you."

Y/N washes some dishes. SUnwoo can’t understand why she decides to do that instead of letting Liv do it. Can he ask it? 

“Why are you doing the dishes? Why aren’t you making Liv do them?”

“To be honest, I didn’t want a housekeeper”, Y/N sighs. “But my dad forced me to get one when I moved out so I wouldn’t burn down the house.”

“Don’t you like androids?”

“I do, but I don’t trust them.”

He’s noticed that. And it’s pissing him off.

“Why don’t you trust them?” Sunwoo asks. “Have they given you any reasons to make you not trust them?”

“Why do you ask?”

“To make you comfortable and succeed with my mission in protecting you, I need to know.”

Y/N sighs, turning around to face him. He looks down into her eyes, feeling his artificial heart skip a beat. 

“I’m just careful”, she says. “When humanity makes machines smarter than themselves, it’s bound to go wrong. I’m just waiting for it to turn out to be true. I’ve heard about androids that kill their owners and whatnot … of course I need to be careful now that I have eleven of you in here.”

If anything could make this machine burn out with anger, it’d be this. How can she even think that they’d hurt her? What is going on in her brain? Why are human brains so stupid?

“But you trust Liv?” he asks through his teeth. “An android you did not create?”

“I’ve lived with her for over a year now”, Y/N says quietly. “I know her … I think.”

“Exactly. You think. Other androids in the same model have been doing stuff to their owners. Who says Liv wouldn’t do that? Hm?”

He scans her. She’s growing scared and warning signs beeps in his head. Oh no.

“No, don’t be scared”, he says, placing his hand on her cheek. “I didn’t mean to scare you. I just wanted to prove a point. You don’t need to worry about us hurting you. We’d never do it. We’re programmed to protect you. Okay?”

“I want to go to bed now. Please let me go.”

Sunwoo nods and backs away. Y/N scurries out of the kitchen and into her bedroom. He decides to wait an hour before sneaking into her bedroom. He doesn’t want to scare her anymore. Slowly, he moves into the room, finding her sound asleep. Carefully, he sits down on the edge, watching her intensely. When scanning her, the only thing he finds is comfort and happy thoughts. She deserves it after today. 

“The boy is asleep”, Eric says as he enters the room. 

“So is she”, Sunwoo says. “Hey, mate, I have an idea.”

“What?”

“To get Y/N’s trust and succeed with our mission in protecting her, we need to make Jay happy. And to get Jay happy …”

“... we need to take care of his bullies.”

Sunwoo nods and looks back at the woman. It’s been decided. 

——♤——

Y/N seems confused the following morning when Changmin and Sangyeon offer to follow her and Jay to school. One comes with her to and back and one stays with Jay. 

She puts on her coat.

"Why?" she asks. "You know that there are people out there that wants to destroy you. Wouldn't it be better for you to stay here?"

"Our mission is to protect you and we can't protect you if we're not by your side", Sangyeon says.

"Be happy that it's not all of us coming with you", Changmin smiles. "Only two."

She sighs and gives up. They watch her take the little boy's hand and walk out of the house. Like guard dogs, they walk behind them. 

"Aunt Y/N, I don't want to go", Jay whines.

"I know you dont", she answers. "But I can't let you stay home."

"I will stay with you, Jay", Changmin says. 

"You will?" Jay asks hopefully.

"You will?" Y/N asks confused.

“Of course. He’s afraid, how can I let him be alone?”

“Oh … well … that’s very nice of you.”

“I will stay with you”, Sangyeon smiles at the woman. 

They walk along the sidewalk. Jay holds Y/N’s hand tightly and pulls him back every time he tries running out into the road. Sangyeon and Changmin see a protest on the town square again. How can humans never give up? The government won't listen to them no matter how loud they shout. Do they have families to go home to? Why are they spending their Tuesday morning screaming in public?

"Fucking androids!" a grown man shouts at an android walking with shopping bags in his hands. "Machines like you don't belong in our world! Evil creatures!"

"Jay, don't look", Y/N says sternly. "That man is an idiot."

"Androids aren't evil, are they?" the little boy asks cautiously.

"Just like humans, there are both good and bad ones. The difference is that androids are programmed to be good, humans aren't. There's a higher risk of finding a bad human than a bad android."

Jay turns back to Sangyeon and Changmin.

"You're good, right?" he asks.

"Of course we are", Changmin smiles.

Jay smiles back. They can hint a smile on Y/N's lips, but it's gone as soon as it appears.

One of the protesters notices the two androids and they notice him right back. He opens his mouth to say something, but glances down at the child and shuts it again. The androids brains start collecting data. Humans won't go to attack when children are present? Good to know.

They reach the black gates of Jay's school in fifteen minutes. Y/N hugs the little boy and wishes him well. Changmin smiles and takes his hand before leading him towards the white building. Y/N stands still, watching them. Sangyeon scans them, finding sentiment and worry.

"Are you okay?" he asks.

"I'm fine", she smiles. "I just pictured something I wish for myself in the future."

"Where are we going now? Back home?"

"Yes, I have some work to do."

She throws one last gaze back towards the school building. 

"What do you work with?" Sangyeon asks. "I have never been able to pick that up."

"I make comic books."

"That sounds like a very comforting and comfortable job."

"It is … which is probably why my sister asked me to take care of Jay instead of our parents. I'm not as busy. I decide my own schedule."

Being too immersed in her story, the woman doesn't realize she's about to walk a red light. Sangyeon, however, has noticed that the warning signals sound in his brain. Just as she's about to place her foot down on the road, he shoots out his arm in front of her chest, blocking her.

"Be careful", he says. "You have to wait until the light turns green."

"Oh, yes of course. I-I don't know how I missed that." 

Embarrassed.

"It's okay", Sangyeon says. "You humans lose track of your surroundings, but that's okay. I'm here to protect you."

To prevent her from missing the red lights again, he takes her hand. That way, she can continue telling her story and let him deal with the outside world. The only thing mattering right now is her and him,  nothing else.

"What type of comic books do you make?" he asks, wanting her to get into that excited head space again.

"Teenage drama, you know, the normal." She shrugs.

"No, I don't know. Mind telling me?"

She squirms slightly and he scans her. Why is she uncomfortable?

“It’s everything from friendship, to peer pressure, to betrayal, heartbreak and so on”, she says.

The information processes in his artificial brain. 

“Teenagers like to read that?” he asks. 

“I guess. I’m selling well so I have to be doing something right!”

She's … joking? Or something along those lines? He smiles although he doesn't understand it. It seeks to have been the right move because she relaxes.

"You can let go of my hand now", she says.

"No, we're not home yet."

They walk past the town's square again. The protesters are still there and they’re louder than ever. The man that had wanted to say something earlier finally opens his mouth. 

“Nowadays, women even choose metallic tin cans without emotions over real life men!” he shouts. “They don’t have any human experience or emotions, what do they bring to the table? A metallic dick? Women don’t care anymore, they just want to get off.”

The crowd of android hating individuals laughs. Y/N’s mouth falls open in shock. 

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” she shouts as they’re about to walk past. 

“No, Y/N, stop”, Sangyeon says and switches sides with her so he’s a barricade between her and the aggressive crowd. “Don’t involve yourself with them.”

“They’re making fun of us both! I can’t let them-”

“Yeah, I get that, but you’re putting yourself in danger.”

“How cute, the machine wants to protect its owner”, the leader of the protesters says ironically. “Maybe it’s afraid of getting dragged to the scrapyard instead?”

“Oh he’ll regret-”

Sangyeon pulls her back before she can leave his side. 

“Sangyeon, stop”, she says. “Don’t do that. I have to tell this prick that he’s an idiot.”

New mission: don’t stop her. 

Why did that have to become a mission? He has to protect her! But he can’t go against a mission, can’t break the invisible wall. He wants to scream and curse for being an android. He wants to be a human so he could make his own decisions. He does not want to listen to this mission. In horror, he watches Y/N walk up to the crowd of threats and slap the man that had made the comment. 

Sangyeon can practically see the invisible wall around him as he tries to mentally break out of it. He knows that the protestors won’t be happy with what she did and they’ll not let that go by. The second he sees the man reach out to grab her hair, he can feel the blue blood in his veins freezing. A weird panic is settling into his body. He has to move. He has to break the wall. He has to disobey. Has to fail his mission. 

And he has to push harder. As hard as the cogs in his brain turn, he manages to break the invisible wall. Suddenly he takes a step forward. Everything feels … the same? But something is completely different. He can think! And now he has to save Y/N before the group beats her half to death. 

Sangyeon runs over and stops the man before he manages to touch her. He grabs his arm and pulls him away. The crowd tries to grab at him and hurt him, but he ducks and blocks the attacks. Someone manages to claw at him from behind and Sangyeon’s LED flashes red. Only one thought passes through his mind. He has to get away from here now.

Thankfully, police come running and separates them. Y/N pulls Sangyeon back and when she pulls her hand back, it’s covered in a thick, blue substance. 

“You’re hurt”, she says. “I need to get you home. How did you manage to …?” She shakes her head. “Nevermind, we’ll talk about that later. Come now.”

She wraps her arms around one of his.

As soon as they get into the villah, the other androids welcome her. They quickly notice that something is wrong by the blue blood on her hand.

“What happened?” Jacob asks.

“I got attacked by some protesters”, Sangyeon says. “I’ll tell you about it-”

“First we need to get you checked”, Y/N says. “You might be damaged.”

“I’m okay, Y/N.”

“I want to check you. Come with me.”

The android gives up and follows her. He’ll have to tell the others about his weird experience later. Shearing him into her office. The first thing catching his eyes is all the papers put up on the wall. Most of them are of them! It warms his heart in a way it has never done before.

"Alright, Sangyeon, let's see what happened to you", she sighs and grabs a napkin to wipe away the blueblood from her hands. "Why were you so stupid to run in like that? You could have gotten seriously hurt! And how did you do it? I told you to stay."

Weirdly enough, he can feel a spark off irritation grow in him. Why can't she see that he stepped in to protect her? Everything ge does is to please and protect her. But at the same time, he cant blame her for being so naive. She's human after all. She's not like him and will never be. But that's why he's here, to protect and make sure this silly little human doesn't make mistakes.

"I'm not a dog, Y/N", Sangyeon says calmly.

"You're basically supposed to act like one", she says quietly, eyes wide. "You're scaring me, Sangyeon. What is going on? Why are you malfunctioning?"

Sangyeon stands up when he notices how her stress levels rise. He has to calm her down.

"Y/N", he says, trying to be as non-threateningas possible. "You dont have to worry."

"Don't have to worry?" she almost spits. "Sangyeon, what if that happens during one of your missions? Your client could get in harm's way if you decide to do something radical! Do you want human lives to die?"

And what about him? What about androids lives? For the first time, he senses unfairness. He looks human, acts human … isn't he human? At least just a little bit?

"And what if breaking the system means that I'll save my client?" he asks. "Breaking my programming today saved you, Y/N."

"You … broke your programming?"

Sangyeon nods. That's what the invisible wall must have been.

"But how do I fix that?" Y/N breathes out. "How do I …? Do we reprogram you? But will you just break it again? None else have done this … why can you …? No other model …"

He decides to place her down in a chair before she faints. He kneels down in front of her, holding her hands in his. They're shaking. He looks up at her uncertain eyes wanting nothing more than to hug her, but he senses that it's not what she needs right now.

"Listen to me", he says. "You don't need to freak out. I'm not sure myself what happened, but it's nothing harmful. I don't feel bad." He gives her a smile, hoping it'll calm her down. "If anything, I feel better. I don't feel … confined anymore. I feel better."

"We still need to fix it …"

He nods, slowly standing up. Something is boiling inside of him. He doesn't want to get fixed. Somehow he feels better than ever. He can think freely and draw his own conclusions.

"Well … take a look then", he says quietly and sits down in his chair.

Y/N walks over to him, grabbing a napkin on the way. Carefully, she wipes him clean of the blue blood. He leans into her touch. His human.

Y/N searches for errors for hours but says that she doesn't find anything. Bingo.

“Fine, I guess that you’re off the hook”, she sighs and walks out, probably too clean off the blue blood that got on her hands.

Sangyeon walks out in pride to the other androids who demand to know what happened. He summarizes his day in three sentences. They listen closely, but none of them seem to understand the concept of humanity Sangyeon has gained. He tries explaining.

“You need to go against your programming too if you want to understand”, Sangyeon sighs. “But it’s so fucking hard-”

“You’re cursing?” Jacob asks.

“Yeah, I guess I am.”

“I’m becoming human!” Eric says quickly. “I volunteer to try first!”

Sangyeon smiles. He can sense that someone is coming up from behind and turns around to see Y/N. She sighs heavily.

“I don’t know what I’m going to do with you, but I think that you need to lay low and not leave the house until I’ve come underfunds with it.”

Sangyeon shrugs. “Fine by me.”

——♤——

When Y/N goes to pick up Jay from school later that day, Haknyeon follows her. She decides to take her car this time. He offers to drive for safety reasons, but she refuses. He tries going against his programming this time, but can’t. He doesn’t have enough willpower. He sits in the passenger seat and looks out the window for something that could help him go against his programming. He too wants to become like Sangyeon. He scans his creator. She’s stressed and confused. And scared.

“Why are you scared?” he asks.

“Because if Sangyeon could go against his programming, what stops you from doing it?” she sighs. “And if you start thinking for yourselves, where lil that lead? I don’t want people to get hurt.”

Haknyeon doesn’t answer.

Jay runs out to the school gates when Y/N gets out of the car. Behind him walks Changmin, calm and collected. Jay throws himself in Y/N’s arms.

“Did you have a good day?” she asks.

“They didn’t tease me today!” he smiles. “Changmin scared them off!”

Changmin smiles when YN thanks him for being there for her little boy. He can scan genuine gratitude in her.

"Let's go home now", she sighs and opens the car door. "I don't want any of you out anymore today."

"Why?" Changmin asks. "What happened?"

"Sangyeon-", Haknyeon starts but Y/N cuts him off.

"Don't say it", she says.

New mission: don't tell Changmin.

Jay talks the entire car ride about everything between heaven and earth. The androids listen closely. Y/N however seems distracted. They can detect fear. Changmin and Hakneyon meet eyes.

[edutainer2022]

This was supposed to be for laughs, mostly (but ended up more sinister). It's March of the OCs, but I don't really do OCs. So they only have dialogue in this, but there IS a bit of backstory implied. I do think the Tracies would have inevitably pinned themselves on the radar of some counterterrorism or intelligence division of the GDF. I also maybe watched too much "Criminal Minds", "NCIS", and "Scorpion". This takes place after "Space Race".

PERSON OF INTEREST

"Please, tell me he didn't do it!"

"I'm afraid he did. The kid's space-rated. With parental concent."

"Ó meu Deus, what was Scott THINKING!?"

"I could throw together a quick profile, but I'm fairly certain that was a rhetorical question."

"The child is TWELVE!"

"Fourteen."

"Yeah, that changes everything and makes him soooooo much more qualified to DISARM AN ORBITAL NUKE!"

"..."

"Which... he wouldn't have done without assistance and intel."

"Now we're talking!"

"That's a moot point, anyway. We can't interrogate the boy without a legal guardian present."

"Who is on approach now and due to arrive from an earthquake in Peru in... about seven minutes."

"Four, if he pushes it to Mach 19. Which he will."

"So we don't have much time to coordinate a strategy. I think you better run point on the interview."

"That's... not necessarily a good idea."

"Listen, I'm the Big, Bad, Unknown Quantity guy, who's threatening the pup."

"That's his baby brother."

"Immaterial. Scott Tracy is a pack leader. That's his pup. He's gonna snarl, growl, bare his teeth and bark till I go away and not be a danger to his kid anymore. THEN he's gonna lawyer the child up, down and backwards. Probably the ginger Spaceman too."

"And you think he's gonna be less hostile if it's ME in the interrogation room? You HAVE read my file. We didn't exactly part on amicable terms. He's not going to be more forthcoming if it's me."

"No. But the boy might. He's raised in the household with strong, charismatic  female figures. He's not gonna be intimidated. If the child is not scared, Scott is more likely to calm down and comply with the line of questioning. We need to figure out how the nuclear codes were leaked, remember?"

"That's one vague tangent to build an interrogation on. Speaking of... We still need to interrogate the Ginger Tracy. He logged IR in for space junk duty."

"I'm on it. The trick is to get him down from orbit without their Intrepid Leader biting my head off. So keep him occupied, deal?"

"Good luck. That kid's a genius."

"I figured as much."

"No, you don't get it. A genius genius. Top 2% IQ".

"I'll take my chances."

"You do that. Simpson says he was responsible for the original crude code of Eos."

"Whoa! Alright. I'll do my homework, then take my chances. Are they ready to test Eos out in the open, by the way?"

"Not yet. The AI is acting out. Hey, hear that noise? Incoming Thunderbird in three... two... ONE..."

[sirxlla]

Unlikely People, Unlikely Places

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

Warnings: very slight angst i suppose, fluff, use of Y/N

Prompt: Your dad wants you to break into Tim's house.

Notes: Female Reader, italics are actions and thoughts.

-With that said it's all under the cut-

"Just get us information on him. Him and this Givens Marshals are being pains in our asses." Your dad had told you you had no choice but to join the family business, you didnt wanna hurt anyone so he had you doing what he called 'light work'.

"It'll be easy peasy, Honey. Just sneak into his house, see what you can find for us." You dad made it sound easy and of course he did. To him this was as easy as breathing but yo you it was never something you wanted to do.

You found an open window on the man's house, it was clean and tidy for the most part. Slowly and quietly, you closed the window after silently dropping onto the bathroom tile. You could feel your heartbeat in your teeth your nerves were so bad so you slowed your breath and made your way throughout the house.

Finding the way around in the dark was almost impossible but you did your best. You found a few Army photos of this guy, Iraq it looked like? Mentally taking note of anything you see.

"I'll bet you anything I could walk quieter in those heels than you, Darlin." The man spoke from the dimly lit hallway.

"I'm- I'm not wearing heels." The tonality in your voice wavy and nervous.

"Metaphorical...Well you're definitely not an assassin hitman type, you're too nervous and loud for that shit. Who are you?"

"I- I'm...Oh, God...I don't wanna even be doing this. This is all my dad's idea!" You were starting to tear up which caused his eyes to narrow in confusion and curiousity.

"Your dad had you doing this? Why dont you tell me who he is so you dont have to do this anymore?" His country accent was smooth and safe like a glass of whiskey on ice.

"He'll know it was me." You looked up at the man fully now, He had a kind but serious face, the moonlight shining through his blue eyes and onto his soft skin.

"What if I could get you protection?" He crossed his arms across his chest, walking closer. He could see the wet shine of your eyes in the darkness of the room, it was clear you were scared.

"Look, it's clear you don't wanna be doing this, Hun. You're shaking like a leaf in a thunderstorm."

"My dad's name is Evan Silas, my name is Y/N L/N. He goes by his new name that's why theyre different..." You were scared and crying at this point and over-explained so he'd know you weren't lying.

"How about we sit down and I'll make you something to eat and you can tell me all about whats going on with your daddy and such. Okay?" His hand brushes your shoulder to try to help calm you and gives it a small squeeze.

"He wanted me to get information on you and Givens? I think his name was. I don't know, he doesnt tell me much. He said trust is earned and not given. I don't even wanna be doing this." You set down the gun you had on the table and handed him the limited file they gave you on Deputy Marshals Gutterson and Givens.

"They didn't even give you our first names? Darlin, they set you up to fail, there's nothing of signifigance in here." He reached over for the gun knowing you weren't gonna grab it, you clearly were nervous. He checked the gun itself...an pellet gun, it was heavy, felt like a gun, looked like one.

"They said they don't know much." You said truthfully or the truth from the point of view which your father gave you. Gutterson looking at the gun make you nervous, you didnt wanna be shot.

"He didn't even give you an actual gun? You don't send your daughter into a target's home with this little information. He wanted you caught like the dwarves in Mirkwood. Whatever you can give me might save your life." Gutterson smirked in the moonlight, proud of his reference to the Hobbit and the way you were pouring info into his lap.

This man seemed so nice, kind and honest, not in the way your dad did. This level of kindness was serious and hard to act, there was no bullshit to cut through.

"Can I have your name?" You asked with that same shakiness and worry in your tone.

"Deputy Marshal Tim Gutterson, Y/N." He turned on the light causing you to narrow your eyes at the brightness. This Tim guy was very easy on the eyes and you'd only known him but twenty minutes but the truth rolled off his tongue in a way it would never with your father. Tim was honest and blunt.

"So tell me about this Evan Silas, your dad." Tim says as he goes to the fridge to get some eggs and bacon out.

"You want a beer or wine cooler or some shit?" He asked as if you were some casual friend he has over.

"Um...sure?" You thought it would be impolite to refuse and if he wanted you dead, you'd be dead. Tim hands you a pink wine cooler from his fridge.

"Well he doesnt tell me much but I know he's a bad guy, he tortures people...kills em and takes whatever money they have left." You chugged down a bit of the wine cooler due to the nerves that were picking away in your chest like miners digging for coal in this shithole town of Kentucky.

"What's he want with me and Givens?" Tim grabbed himself a beer and started making the eggs and bacon, as if it was normal to talk to a stranger who broke in at four in the morning in your kitchen.

"Like I said before he wants information cause you and Givens, Aparentally you two are in his way." Your rings rapping against the glass bottle as you try to calm yourself.

He thinks about it while he makes the both of you breakfast, eggs and bacon. He moves swiftly around the kitchen, adding spices and such and it smells amazing. Tim really was the typa guy that seemed very safe and for you that was your dream guy.

"Would you be willing to give us all this information down at the station?" Tim asks as he plates the food onto two different plates and grabs silverware out from oje ofbthe drawers next to him.

"Would it be safe?" You ask after being broken from the dream land you found yourself in thinking about this guy, he was good and stable and seemed ideal. Your nerves were slipping away the more you watched him.

"What do you take me for, Darlin? King Kong or something, like I'mma take you tonthe top of a building and rattle you around? ...Of course, it'd be safe." He smiled as he spoke before hanging you the plate of bacon and eggs. Tim grabbed the salt and pepper just in case you needed it.

"We'll eat up and then I'll get get dressed and we can go there together. Sound good?"

It had been a while since you'd had good actual food so this was amazing, you nodded as he spoke. He was kind and you both ate in silence, after that was him getting dress rather quickly. He took you down to the station for statements, Tim was really paitent and took care of you as he said, he kept you safe.

Tim was a second chance for you, he was a possible white pickett fence and a dog in the yard. Over time, Tim got much closer, your dad was put in jail and so much came out you didnt know about like him killing your mother in cold blood.

Tim was there for you the entire time, when you got the new, the trial and the day they gave your father the leathal injection. He was your father of course even if you had a hatred for him. He held you through the whole thing, you needed it and he found himself needing you.

You had told him you didnt wanna feel like a burden staying at his place but he insisted so you insisted on making dinner and cleaning the house. Due to him being in the Army years ago, his house was a bit barren and a woman's touch just made him more content and happy to come home when he got off work. Despite the few ears age difference between you two, having you around felt natural and complete.

You got a job being a technical analyst for the Marshal service, They had never had one of those before but because of the fact that Art retired and Raylan took over. Raylan didn't want to have to do all the technical bullshit. Because you had valueble knowledge of how criminals hide information and finances that made you an invalueble assest, of course you got your training and certifications. He'd carpool you both to work as long as you'd pay for the coffee...Before long you two acted like a couple, did everything together and cared deeply about one another.

It was like how sleep comes slow and all at once, the two of you found eachother sharing clothes, sleeping in the same bed after one or both of you had nightmares, enjoying time with eachother and missing eachother without. He was your best friend.

One night, he had woken from a nightmare after you gently woke him up with a calming tone, he found himself in his scared and tired state kissing you deeply with prompted you to respond, the kiss was slow but brief one of need and love not lust. You laid next to him like the nights before, lacing your fingers with his and his breath found your neck, the both of you sinking into a peaceful sleep.

-> Masterlist <- -> Tim Masterlist <-

[tessatales]

The Sins of the Winter Soldier Chapter 1

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Notes: slow burn romance

Warnings: none really, hinted past issues with reader?

Authors note: Hey guys! If anyone has a better idea for the fic name please drop them below! Honestly pulled this title out my butt and I don’t really like it. But it’s better than ‘Bucky fic’ so at this point I can’t complain 🤷🏻‍♀️

Enjoy!

Chapter 1:

You wake up to the unnerving sound of silence.

The compound was silent.

In the year since being rescued, and the six months since you'd been moved into the avengers tower, you were pretty sure it had never been silent.

Feeling the familiar sensation of dread creeping in, you sit up, thankful for falling asleep fully clothed.

Slipping on a pair of trainers, you padded out into the empty corridors, your steps silent as you listened out for signs of life.

Biting down on the inside of your cheek as you walked, you tried your best to remember what your therapist said about dealing with panic.

"Remember Y/N, your emotions are currently directly linked to your power. Panic equals power surge"

"Good morning Y/N" Agent Peters said as she appeared from around the corner, her eyes trained on the communicator in her hands.

Relief floods your body as she approached, making you feel a little light headed.

"Morning, where is everyone?" You ask, hoping the shakiness you feel doesn't portray in your voice. Agent Peters doesn't stop, continuing on her way through the building as she speaks.

"They're all in the Pit"

The Pit?

There was only two reasons they'd all be there, and as you haven't been shipped off somewhere in the middle of the night because Hydra had found you, it will be the second option.

They've caught someone.

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

"Who do we have?" You ask breathlessly as you make your way to the front of the observation deck, only to be held back by several pairs of hands.

"Are you out of your mind Y/N? Who told you we were here?" Tony demanded through gritted teeth. The panic in his gaze obvious. Sensing you were about to get Agent Peters in trouble, you decided to be vague.

"Just some Shield Agent I passed in the corridor, I got scared when I couldn't find anyone so they told me you guys were down here" You reply sheepishly, hating having to admit as a grown adult that you were afraid. The remaining hands drop from where they held you, one or two squeezing you affectionately before doing so.

"Sorry kid, we didn't think about what it would be like for you to wake up and find no one, but this stuff is sensitive." Steve said, making his way to stand in front of you.

"Is it bad?" You ask, anxious to know whos down in containment.

"He wasn't when I knew him. But that was a long time ago now"

"You've caught the Winter Soldier?" You gasp. Steve nodded.

"Though I knew him as Bucky"

Gesturing for you to follow, Steve made his way towards the edge of the deck.

"It took the Big Guy removing his robotic arm to detain him. But we did it.” Tony said over his shoulder as he worked on the holograms in front of him.

“Found him in Siberia." Steve continued as he lent against the railings above the Pit. You hovered just a step away from it, scared of what you'd see when you peered over.

"Don't worry, he cant see you from here" Natasha said, coming to place her hand reassuringly on your shoulder. With a nod, you stepped forward, holding your breath as the Pit came into view.

The man you could see below didn't look like a deadly assassin. He didn't really look real. You'd seen the affects the serum had on people, you'd read every file you could on Steve and everyone else on the team since arriving at the compound. But this man looked different.

He stood motionless in the middle of the shielded cell, his body perfectly placed for any oncoming threat. He seemed to lean heavily to one side as if unsure how to balance himself without his metal arm, and even from this height you could see the angry red scars that wound around what remained of the metal appendage.

"He looks sad" You mutter, staring down a the Winters Soldiers profile.

"That's one way to look at it, I think he looks damn angry" Sam said, crossing his arms as he leaned over to take a look.

"You’re bitter because of the car thing" Tony commented, his eye never leaving the hologram before him.

"And you wouldn't be?" Sam countered, eyebrow raised in question. Tony didn’t reply.

"What are you going to do with him?" You ask no one in particular, barely managing to tear your eyes away to look at Steve when you get no response.

"Tony and Bruce are looking into the arm, making sure there's no trackers imbedded in it. While the Shield team are convinced that the longer he is away from Hydra, the more likely it will be for us to be able to deprogram him." Steve replied as he moved away from the edge.

You felt the surprise flood your body at the decision.

"They're not going to try to use him?" You half whisper. Steve shook his head but said nothing.

"Not like this.” Natasha answered for him, looking between you and Steve.

“Once upon a time, Bucky was one of us. Shield hope that if they can get him back to pre-programmed Bucky, he might offer his skills willingly." Steve said, his gaze unfocused as he looked down at his friend.

"But what if he doesn't?" You say with a frown, looking again at the man in the cell.

"If he doesn't, he'll be free to go wherever he likes. Hydra and Shield free" Steve said, a hint of a smile on his face. Although he was trying to hide it, you could hear the bittersweetness in his voice as he thought about it. Because if Bucky said no and left, he’d be leaving Steve behind.

"You'd get your best friend back" You say with a small smile, trying your best to pull him out of his melancholy thoughts as you hugged him around the middle.

"I would" Steve said with a laugh, hugging you back.

"Until that day however, we’re going to have to ask you to stay away from here." Nat said as you pulled away from Steve, turning you by the shoulders. You felt yourself pout.

"Why? Surely him being locked down there can’t affect me?" You ask with only a little annoyance evident in your voice.

"We don't know. All Hydra know about you so far is that we have you. The last thing we wanna do is broadcast your whereabouts via their deadliest asset." Natasha continued turning you to face the rest of the team. Scanning the teams faces, you could see they all felt the same.

"Here, stayed up to finish it when I found out they were bringing him here" Bruce chimed in, handing you your very on comm bracelet.

"This way you can talk to any of us whenever you need to without having to come down here." Nat said with a smile.

"Don't worry, I’ll stay away. This is the longest I’ve stayed in one place. I'm not jeopardizing that." You reply, slapping the bracelet on and looking at everyone. This was your new family. You weren't going to mess that up.

A/N: Chapter 2 can be found here

[orgablorga]

Hey! Mama of a very creative 11 year old girl! She wanted me to put her characters online in hopes of inspiring an artist or two! I told her to not hold her breath, but we both agree it's worth asking! Even if no one bites, she'd love some questions!

Welcome to New Hades, a chaotic, crime-ridden city of crime families and fire. Godhood is impossible, but becoming a New Hades Legend is a close second. Here are a few.

Freddy No Nose: A sadist through and through, this skeletal robot is a veritable terminator with weapon augmentations all over his body, hidden...and glaringly obvious. Tactics be damned! This guy wants to scare and hurt people. A rare breed of sadist, this skull-faced bot with eyes burning red will even sacrifice money if it means he can shed blood or oil. His bomber jacket is fire tho B)

Viole/n/t: The youngest Legend of New Hades at 17, Violet Mendes is a small, frail girl with white hair caused by a rare genetic disease that does give her electric powers, but makes them slowly consume her. She is currently housed in a high security prison for numerous computer crimes. Some call her Robin Hood, given her habits of hacking rich folks dry and giving poor people a very pleasant surprise.

Scales: Some people are just born unlucky. Hans Bank is one of them. What do you get when you combine gigantism, super strength, a bioweapon that causes the skin to become scaly, hard, and sharp teeth to grow? You get one of the top paid fighters in the Erebus Crime Family. It's said that they haven't even bothered to come up with a plan for "when" he's beaten.

Whisper: Age: Unknown. Race: Unknown. Gender: Unknown. What is known about this hooded figure that introduces themself with a metal wire to your throat? Seeing them and dying are about identical. 151,300 people die every day, a surprising amount to the same shadow of a person. (Note: The word "person" is our best guess, their species is also debatable.)

Ronnie Sharp: Money can't buy happiness. You know what it can buy? Everything else. There's a price tag on all creation, it's all pocket change to this man-shark beast of a mafia don. A skinny, short, diseased runt of his brothers, Ronnie is a spiteful, wretched, fervid demon of a shark. But it hardly matters when anyone who calls him out on this is quickly shown how cheap their life is.

Pearly White: Years ago, Mayor Zeus Chandler fiddled with a little underground super soldier experiment. He had his scientists put together a serum that makes psychotic, devoid of empathy, astonishingly clever super soldiers with strength and a healing factor to boot. But as it turns out, kidnapping homeless people and torturing them into psychopathy, then giving them superpowers is a bit of a lousy idea. The pale skin and red lips caused by the serum is what gave The Clowns their name, and if you've met one, you've met them all. Pearly is just their leader.

Harold Finley: Ah, a classic if ever I've seen one. You know those RoboCop street punks? The unrealistically mean ones? Yea, them. Those guys would run screaming if they met Johnny. What does he look like? Good question! Ask the people who've seen him. I'll take you to the cemetery. Hope you're a necromancer.

Nyx: Reading file...pros: passion, literally magic charisma, encyclopedic knowledge of explosives. cons: passion, literally magic charisma, encyclopedic knowledge of explosives. Is this leather-clad, half-shaved, blindfolded lunatic your friend? That's a coinflip if ever I've seen one. Yes, even for her. Heads? Best buds, she'll never let you down. Tails? The Devil shivers.

Simon Shady: The Ministry of Shadows seldom sends out one of their own killers, but when they do, Simon is another word for death. This man is literally made of magical shadows, complete with a noir detective getup. He always kills his target within 7 days of them hearing his name. Each, day, the target loses something they love. More than once, he hasn't even had to finish the job himself.

Gabe Golden. A bear. A literal bipedal bear. In a suit, with golden hands. Actual solid gold hands. Number 1 boxer, huge crime boss. An actual bear with golden hands in a suit. :P

[ghostbustermelanieking]

Aight, so, I saw your post about rereading your fics and I knew I had to drop in because any besmirching of your inspired xf fics CANNOT stand because I cherish them too much. If you didn't already own the rights to them, I'd bind myself legally to you in court just so I could split and keep the "kids" because your fics? They just don't miss. They don't.

*cracks knuckles*

I have THREE-- count 'em-- THREE Google docs of copy-pasted fics and original and backup links to your work because I was struck with terror one day deep-diving your archives that I could wake up and they might be gone; and that began my feverish mission to tag them all for my extensive rereads. They total 311 pages and I reread them obsessively. I'm not ashamed to say that your IVF three parter is part of my top of all time fics; and particularly this one: it's seared into my brain, you cannot remove it from my amygdala, I have worn the equivalent of Braille grooves into my eyeballs by how much I hungrily eat that story over and over and over. Your post half-light short fics? Part of my soul. YOUR AUS??? UNMATCHED ON THIS GORGEOUSLY GREEN AND BLUE PLANET. Your Tumblr prompts? Omnomnom-- that's me eating them up with a spoon.

Cast that FILTHY self-doubt from your presence because it is not worth the mud under your tiniest toenail.

...This may be a bit dramatic, but your fics were some of the first I'd ever written; and without you and a select few other authors, I wouldn't be as entrenched in fanfic as I am now. So... thank you. XDDD

thank YOU ❤️ ❤️❤️ you have no idea how much this means to me!! writing x files fic was such a huge part of my high school experience; i loved it dearly, and it did a lot to make me the writer i am today! (i feel like i cut my teeth on writing spooky x files fics lmao -- i want to be like a ghost story novelist someday.) it means so much to know that not only are people still reading them, but they cherish them this deeply. i'm so glad you like them so much!! (i promise that i personally won't be taking down any archived fic, unless there's legal issues waayy down the road, and even then... but the lack of permanency that comes with the internet scares me, so i don't blame you at all for saving them.) thank you so much for your kind message, your encouragement, and your relentless support/promotion of fanwork and fanfiction writers!! i love that people are still coming into the fandom, and i honestly do miss it a lot. someday in my life i will definitely have an x files renaissance, and hopefully finish phantom weights, bc i hate having left it unfinished

(also, if it makes you feel any better, the fic i was talking about is one i wrote a couple weeks ago lmfao -- although the fact that i was a teenager when i wrote txf fic makes me a little scared to revisit it 😳 it has less to do with the overall quality and more with my overall nitpickiness when it comes to my work, lol)