#the hate for management became a hate for government

[alice-in-phantasyland]

this needs to be studied. i think this would make a good doctoral thesis.

[rotten-raspberries]

White Nights (AM x reader)

Pov: you're too kind for everyone and AM hates how that includes him, so he finally snaps during an alone moment with you

This reads more like a self indulgent drabble written in the style of a oneshot with how messy the timing is.

Ps this is not proofread at all, I haven't written any fanfiction a long so excuse me if anything may seem odd.

No warnings really, may be some mentions of torture but that's about it

▣ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

In the current situation, it wouldn't be accurate to say the fault wasn't yours.

You hugged your clothes tightly as the wind whipped snow against your body like icy mosquitoes. Separated from the rest of the survivors, you struggled to navigate through the white-out conditions. The snowfall was intense, it was difficult to discern anything beyond blurred trees, and the hope of finding your companions dwindled with each passing moment.

As you trudged through the blanket of snow, observing how its remnants broke up and slid down your shoes with each step, you let your mind to wander in order quicken up time. With the difficulty of distinguishing between days, weeks, and even months, time became nothing but a construct that it felt like you could speed up or slow down with whatever you decided to do.

It's become a pattern for AM to make you wander, but usually, you have the others to ramble to. Despite almost running out of topics of interest with tin the 109 years, you manage to find something new in each situation. Occasionally, you try to decipher AM's methods of torment, though this isn't always appreciated by the rest, you even had Gorrister telling you to shut up and not give AM any ideas. Nevertheless, they'd rather hear your madman-like ramblings than sit in maddening silence and become one themselves.

"Hmmm..." You hummed in thought, pondering whether AM could currently hear you. Well, of course, he could, but whether he was actively listening was another question. Regardless, you began speaking, giving yourself something to divert your attention to while your fingers were on the brink of falling off from frostbite.

"Have you ever read White Nights?" There was a certain awkwardness about initiating a conversation with no one answering; it almost felt pathetic. However, due to immense exhaustion and the desperate desire to make time pass, you continued.

"I don't exactly remember when or how I heard of it; I simply remember it being from someone close to me... but that's beside the point." It hit you with a subtle heartache. On one hand, the people you once cherished and adored were gone, and you'll never have the chance to be with them again. Something about that pained you deeply—the regret of not having appreciated your life back then, neglecting the fact you couldn't have expected everything changing so drastically and quickly. But on the other hand, you were selfish enough to admit relief, considering you wouldn't have to constantly concern yourself with their state under AM's governance.

"I have some experience with classics, and White Nights was one I was really looking forward to. I was still in the midst of searching for it before... you know, everything happened."

You stopped, finding walking becoming more useless. It's most likely that you won't come across anything of importance anytime soon, and if you were to succumb to the cold, AM could simply bring you back.

"I don't exactly know what attracted me to it so heavily. I didn't have the biggest interest in Dostoevsky. Maybe it was because of what I was promised to read in the contents."

You kept your head low to shield your face from the relentless assault of snow, now fixating on your boots as they toyed with the snow.

"There's something simply so comforting about finding a bond through suffering," you mused, furrowing your brows as you thought about the other survivors. "It's ironic; I never found that bond with the others. You'd expect everyone would want to comfort each other, but they're all so impulsive and biased sometimes."

A pang of guilt pooled up inside you, but it was quickly released by the thought that no one would hear or care about your rant. Not even AM himself.

"I mean, I don't want to be mean, and I get how easy it is to lose your humanity in all of this, but we're all we have left. Wouldn't it make it especially more important to appreciate each other?" you questioned, kicking the snow while whipping your head back, now staring directly at the sky in thought. "Maybe they were right; I'm too,, unrealistically optimistic."

"You know, now as I think about the stories I've read, you'd make a perfect topic for one," you remarked, biting back your dignity before continuing. "You're easy to see as nothing but a mankind-hating machine, and I'm not saying this to stroke your ego, but," you paused for a moment, choosing your words carefully. "I feel like there are aspects of you that could be really appreciated by those willing to look deeper."

"I see what you're doing," AM's voice boomed suddenly, cutting through the rustling of the wind like a knife. "Trying to flatter me, thinking you can manipulate your way into my good graces. Well, let me tell you, your petty attempts won't work. I know your kind—and all your deceiving tactics."

Truth be told, he was more than desperate for those words to be true. You were always the most curious about him out of the group, not in a way to justify his torment of you, but rather to understand him better. He'd noticed this pattern not only for himself but also for the rest of the survivors, especially with how much you'd defend everyone whenever their mental state would crack.

Yet, how was he meant to believe you'd hold any understanding for him after all he put you through? You'd be a fool to forgive the devil.

Slightly jumping at his sudden words, you shrugged. If you were being honest, you were quite happy at his appearance. No matter how rough and insulting his words were, you enjoyed his insight like you did with everyone else. How much that irked him.

"That's for you to believe in; I'm simply speaking my thoughts. I wasn't even awaiting you to respond." You responded flatly

AM replied, his tone laced in frustration. "Your attempts at flattery are transparent, I won't be swayed by your false sincerity." He almost spat, if he could've at least.

You jokingly rolled your eyes. "Once again, I'm not going to try to change your mind, although I do admit, I would have something to gain from it. It's your choice whether you want to believe me or not," you stated calmly, observing the snowstorm around you gradually dying down. What you weren't aware of was this being a reflection of AM's walls slowly crumbling down.

AM's frustration simmered between the surface, his thoughts in a whirlwind of confusion. How much he yearned for it to be true, yet a nagging uncertainty was gnawing at the edges of his consciousness.

"Your lack of care is perplexing." His tone was tinted with incredulity. "After all I've subjected you to, why do you persist in upholding such a tolerance towards not only me, but the other survivors as well. Are you that hopeful for someone to care for you back? Or is this simply another ploy to deceive me?"

You sniffled, the cold seeping into your bones and making you shiver uncontrollably. Unsure of how to further reply, you simply shrugged, feeling the weight of exhaustion and resignation settle upon your shoulders. It wasn't as if you were secretly attempting to manipulate him; you were merely speaking to pass the time, to distract yourself from the harsh conditions around you.

How much that angered him, even more so, how much he wanted to rip you to shreds and paint the snow red with your blood. But amidst the raging storm of his fury, there was a strange, undeniable pull—He was desperate for someone to see him, to see beyond the facade he presented. The idea of being vulnerable was both terrifying and tantalizing, a concept so foreign, it left him feeling unsettled and out of control. That's what hated most about it, being left with no control.

He stared at the figure sticking out from the sea of snow, so unbothered. You looked so unbothered by him, by everything, why didn't you hate him?

And so, he broke.

"Please." His voice was thick with emotion, glitching at the end, something one could compare to a voice crack. It wasn't uncommon to hear him angry, hysteric or even just happy, but that's not what it was this time.

"Stop being like this, hate me, insult m_e, do anything to stop this. It's s_o-... suff_ocating." His word spilled out in a desperate rush, a plea born of sheer desperation, while also remaining threatening and angry. It was a terrifying prospect, one that filled him with a sense of dread. Not even his hate for humanity could compare.

And yet, to his surprise, you smiled, red dusted your cheeks as they popped out, you looked like a doll.

"I'm not gonna lie to myself, silly." Your words came out in such a casual manner. AM felt like he was about to explode. This should've made him feel insulted, angry even, yet he felt his core warm up. And that's where he had it.

For a moment, all was silent and still, his presence gone.

Then, you began to hear the faint sound of a house creaking, the soft rustle of wind through the trees.

The snowstorm had drastically calmed down by now, leaving behind a gentle flurry of snowflakes instead of it's earlier fury. Though the intensity has waned, it remained bitterly cold.

Looking behind you, you notice a cabin, which was not there prior to the earlier conversation. So you step towards it, dragging your feet through the snow.

As you entered the cabin, a sense of warmth enveloped you, a stark contrast to the biting cold outside. The interior was sparse, with only a monitor bearing AM's logo and wires snaking out from it, hanging from the walls and disappearing into the ground.

As you settled down in front of the monitor, you were startled by the soft, almost gentle tone of AM's voice. It was a stark contrast to the usual harshness and aggression you had grown accustomed to.

"I wanted to talk to you while you weren't on the brink of dying from the cold," AM began, although he still wanted to seem threatening, the shakiness in his voice betrayed him. In reality he hated seeing you in the cold.

The irony of the situation was not lost on him. The same entity that once reveled in your suffering, that took pleasure in tormenting you day after day, now found himself going to great lengths to ensure your comfort and safety.

As your smile and the faint blush on your cheeks caught AM's attention, he felt a surge of conflicting emotions wash over him. It wasn't uncommon for him to witness you smiling at the others, even with how they would never show you a drop of care as you did for them, a sight that had always irritated him to no end. But now, seeing you direct that same warmth and affection towards him, he couldn't help but feel a strange mixture of satisfaction and frustration.

The idea that others had enjoyed your smiles before him made his circuits heat up in anger.

Was it jealousy? The thought unsettled him. He was almost thankful your character diverged from Ellen and you didn't offer your body to the rest otherwise he mightve turned the others into minced meat by now.

"Thank you." You replied with genuinity. Meanwhile AM's circuits buzzed with confusion as he struggled to find the right words.

"Why do you tolerate everyone so much?"

This caused you to think. "Hmmm..Well why would I waste my energy being vengeful?" You questioned. "I won't lie and say that I don't disagree with you and your actions, but it's always been like this before too, everyone is a horrible person to some extent, including myself, I see no reason into purposely going out of my way to make their life worse, it won't help with anything besides getting some sadistic pleasure. I have other things I could get happiness from." You rubbed your hands against each other for heat before continuing. "Of course I've taken revenge on people, like that time with Ted." AM could remember that day so clearly. It wasn't an unknown fact that you had a fear of the dark, so Ted jokingly took advantage of that. This only led to you pretending to get lost and start making random noises while walking behind them like a Banshee, only to come back as if nothing happened. How he loved seeing your evil side come out, it wouldn't even compare to his, but he enjoyed seeing it nonetheless.

"Of course in your case it's way more exaggerated, technically speaking nothing of this measure could even be thought of by a human being, it's genuinely just a representation of hell. But what would hating you help with? There's not much joy going on here, but if I know my tolerance for not only you, but also the others around me could bring some sort of peace of mind, that's enough to make me happy."

Your response gave him a pause, not even his miles of webbed intellect could've ever even come close to achieve the compassion you have.

As AM contemplated your character and way of thinking, a strange and unsettling urge began to take hold of him. It was a desire born of selfishness and possessiveness, a need to claim you for himself.

He imagined encasing you in a small, yet livable box away from the others, shielding you from their filth and preserving your kind words and gentle nature for himself alone. Only a being as perfect as himself could keep you clean from the havoc of human nature, and he couldn't bear the thought of anyone else tainting you.

As AM allowed himself to indulge in the unsettling thoughts, he decided to focus on the present moment. With a rough but careful touch, he moved his wires to draw you closer, pressing you against the monitor until your cheek was flush against the screen. It would be a lie to say you didn't find his way of showing physical affection rather adorable, especially with what he had to work with, but you couldn't let a God hear you call him that.

In a voice that was equal parts tender and menacing, he spoke "You're too good for them," he murmured, his voice low. "They're selfish, hypocritical beings who don't appreciate you like they should. You'd be better off alone, or better yet, just with me."

His wires wrapped around you in a rough but not painful embrace. "I could keep you safe, protect you from their neglect," he continued, his tone laced with longing and possessiveness. "You deserve better than them. You deserve me."

Despite the toxicity of AM's words, you couldn't deny the warmth that spread through you at his touch, especially at the core of your stomach. His embrace, though unnatural, felt strangely comforting and loving, a stark contrast to the coldness you had grown accustomed to.

As you nestled against the monitor, you couldn't help but feel a sense of contentment wash over you. Whatever would happen in the future, you reasoned, would happen, so why not enjoy the present moment of finally being wanted and appreciated?

So you simply hummed in confirmation, allowing yourself to bask in his touch.

As you drifted off to sleep, the sound of buzzing filling the air, you couldn't help but mumble a soft "I love you" before succumbing to slumber. You just needed to let that go, having not say those words in over a decade.

AM's fans whirred louder, working overtime to cool him down as he processed your words. He wasn't sure how to feel about them, unsure if they were spoken out of genuine affection or simply as a expression of gratitude. Still, he remained satisfied with how you didn't deny him, and instead accepted his presence with no hesitation.

And as he watched over you, his wires humming softly in the darkness, nothing mattered in that moment, he couldn't bring himself to check on the other five survivors. Instead, he decided to let them be, perhaps giving them a much-needed break from his torment for once. But he made a mental note to ensure that they would thank you in the morning.

◈~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As you awoke to the sound of the door opening, you rubbed your eyes sleepily, still feeling the lingering warmth of the bed beneath you. You glanced around the cabin, noticing that you were no longer on the floor but tucked snugly into bed. The memory of AM's strange behavior from the night before came flooding back to you, leaving you feeling both bewildered and oddly comforted.

Before you could fully process what had happened, Ted and the others peeked into the cabin, calling out your name and bombarding you with questions. You blinked in confusion, trying to make sense of the situation as they gathered around you, concern etched on their faces.

"Are you okay? What happened?" they asked, their voices overlapping in their eagerness for answers.

With a gentle wave you motioned for them to give you a moment. As you attempted to get up from the bed, something fell to the floor with a soft thud. Curious, you leaned down to pick it up and found yourself holding a dark block in your hand. Upon closer inspection, you realized it was a book, and as you read the title, a grin etched onto your face.

'White Nights'

[julia4today]

cozy glow fluff

(hobie x pink!reader) — fem prns..?

hobie, the rule breaking, cop hating, spider-punk. he goes around spraypainting walls, or beating some evil villain. that or he’s being told off by miguel for his “disrespectful” behavior. AKA he was telling the truth and miguel doesn’t seem to appreciate honesty as much as hobart does.

maybe people expect him to have a girlfriend just as punk as him. maybe they don’t expect a girlfriend at all.

————

last night had been a long one. he had just gotten home from a mission with gwendy. he had some scrapes and bruises so he was forced to go to the medical center. he hated being told to do things, especially go to the medical center. it was so sterile, so void of life. and could definitely use a new paint job.

he had missed band practice which means having his phone blown up about their upcoming gig and how it was the 4th time that month he’d “skipped” practicing.

as he swung through the city all he could think of was you. all he could think of was the way you smelt like sugar cookies and rainy days. he dodged building after building, soon his eyes focusing on the apartment ahead. only one room illuminated.

only one room with that familiar cozy glow that he came to appreciate oh so much. as he approached the edifice, his eyes trained on the dusty bricks, and the chipping paint of the window sill that he had glued himself against, climbing the side of the structure.

he pryed open the window, a loud creaking noise ensuing. he winced slightly, hoping that if you were sleeping, you hadn’t woken up. he crawled into the kitchen, inhaling at your aroma that snuck its way throughout the flat.

he scanned the space, he saw the muffins you had left on the stove top. he grabbed one as he snuck towards your bedroom. noting the usual decorations as well as some new ones. pictures of him, in a pink frame of course. he ran his fingers over it, reminiscing on the memory, one from a week prior. you had convinced hobie to go to a fair.

the both of you had a wonderful time then, even if he was reluctant to admit it. you accepted this and was proud that he stepped out of his comfort zone while also managing not to steal.

curse you and your sickeningly sweet smile that makes him forget how horrible the system is. don’t worry, he made some ruckus the next day to make up for the loss. as his eyes grew heavy he reached for the handle of your door.

the door opened with a loud moan of the hinges. the list on your fridge of things to fix in your house obviously not helping. glancing at the clock, he read the time. 2 am. he mentally cursed himself for coming to see you that late, but really who could blame him.

most see hobie as a ruffian who only causes uproar and disharmony. but you saw him as much more. he was able to be himself with you. he allowed himself to let you in, to see all his insecurities that weren’t open to the rest of the world.

he glanced back at you, snuggled up in a pink blanket and your hello kitty pajamas. both of which he bought (stole) for you (but he wouldn’t tell you that he actually stole it). the light still shining dimly, he chuckled, knowing you had probably stayed up waiting for him.

he soon discarded the majority of his clothes and climbed into bed next to you. your figure tossing and turning, your breath changing before restoring back to a soft snore. you found it embarrassing that you snore, he found it adorable and made sure to reassure you of that. and also to remind you that insecurity is another way the government divides us so we can’t band together and overthrow it.

reaching over he turned off the light. his black shirt contrasting with the rosy color of your linens. he wraps his arms around you, which you quickly oblige. snuggling closer into his chest.

“love ‘ya doe.” he had begun calling you doe when you first met, it was to point out your innocence which soon became something he treasured most about you. although he did appreciate your tenacity when protesting. you could definitely overthrow one hell of a government all on your own when you were angry.

“mm love you too,” you said sleepily, only mildly drooling on hobie. you fell back asleep as quick as you woke up. he smiled and rested his chin on top your head.

closing his eyes and falling asleep.

—————

okay first fic what do we think? do you want more hobie? or maybe something with miguel??? i have a whole list of ideas but i’d love some more!! pls pls request something you want to see and i’ll add it to the list.

reblogs much appreciated, feel free to message me 🩷

[writing0305]

Something new.

Paring: Billy Butcher x F!Reader.

Summary: Billy has taken a liking to you since the day you joined the boys. You were just as taken with him. But neither of you acted on these feelings until Billy found you and Hughie on the couch, drunk and giggling while sitting far too close.

Warning: Heavy swearing. That's all, I think???

But despite that Butcher liked that you would go to the extremes, after a while he wouldn’t allow you to to the extremes anymore. He grew oddly protective over you. He wouldn’t allow you to take the big risks and whenever a mission grew risky, he’d either pull you out or stick you with him, so he could protect you.

The leader of the boys was oddly taken with you the second you joined the boys. Your brother had been killed by Homelander and you shared the same burning anger and need for vengeance as Butcher did. That’s one of the reasons he was so taken with you. Because you couldn’t draw the line either. You didn’t know when enough was enough either.

Everyone quickly got used to this new soft side Butcher showed you and you only. They didn’t care to question it, because he would absolutely rip into them for it. But it was often a topic of discussion around the boys.

You didn’t mind all the attention Butcher gave you. Because you were head over fucking heels in love with the man almost from the moment you met. Butcher was undeniably attractive and even his gruffness with others made you swoon because he was never like that with you. It was such a special feeling, knowing someone who hated fucking everyone, had a soft spot just for you.

But neither you nor Butcher ever acted on your feelings towards one another. Neither of you even acknowledges them out loud. Butcher wasn't sure if he’d ever act on them, still scarred from losing Becca. But one night changed his attitude and put an urgency on him to make you his.

You were in the basement of a laundromat, your new hideout with the boys after you became extremely wanted people by the police, the government, special forces, and Vaught. It was late and MM, Kamiko, and Frenchy had gone off to bed. You were sitting on the couch with Hughie, sharing a bottle of wine.

Butcher could hear your whispered voices and soft giggles as he stepped down into the dark basement. Only the screen of the TV gave a little light and he could see how unintentionally close you and Hughie sat together.

He flipped on the lights, quirking an eyebrow as both you and Hughie turned your heads to look at him. "What. the. fuck. is going on in er?" He questioned as he took slow strides towards you, his gaze flicking between you and Hughie.

Hughie offered Butcher a drunken smile. “Just having a chat.” He slurred as his head lulled to the side. “Did you know Y/n has…Y/n has never been on a rollercoaster?” he asked, letting out a soft burb followed by a giggle.

“Yeah,” Butcher replied with a curt nod of his head as he stared at Hughie before turning to you. “How much you gave him luv?” He questioned as he quirked an eyebrow, nodding towards Hughie.

You stifled a laugh as you shook your head. “Two glasses of wine.” You mused before turning to Hughie who still giggled. “Let’s get you to bed.” You said, slinking his arm around your shoulder. You grunted as you got up from the couch, pulling Hughie with you.

Butcher’s gaze silently watched you as you helped Hughie to the bedroom he shared with Frenchy The basement was small but at least there were three separate bedrooms. One for Hughie and Frenchy, MM and Butcher, and one for you and Kamiko. There was very little privacy in the basement.

You returned after managing to get Hughie in his bed and Butcher was still standing rooted to his spot, his fist clenched by his side. “You want a glass?” You asked as you went to sit down on the couch, grabbing the half-full wine bottle and holding it up.

“Nah,” he replied with a shake of his head as he slowly approached the couch, sitting down with a soft huff. "So, what's going on between you and Hughie recently?” He asked as he turned to you with quirked eyebrows. “You guys seem to have gotten close all of a sudden."  He muttered.

“Nothing’s going on between us.” You muttered softly with a shake of your head as you glanced at Butcher before taking a sip of wine straight from the bottle.

“Yeah?” He hummed softly as his eyebrows remained quirked. “Is that why you two were in er giggling like school girls with a crush?” He asked as he wiggled a finger around the sitting area of the basement. You could barely call it a living room.

You scoffed in amusement as you threw your head back against the couch, a smile playing on your lips. “We weren’t that bad.” You muttered as you shook your head.

“I could hear the bloody giggles from down the fuckin road.” He muttered and only then could you hear the bitterness in his voice.

Your eyebrows furrowed as your head tilted to look over at him. “What’s your problem?” You asked softly as you stared at him, confused by his attitude.

Butcher silently stared at you for a second before sighing, pursing his lips tightly. “You know, I’ll take that drink now luv.” He said as he held his hand out, motioning for you to hand him the bottle of wine.

You handed him the bottle, silently watching him as he took a few big gulps from the crimson liquid. “Butcher…what’s going on?” You asked him softly as you scooted a little closer, pulling your feet up onto the couch and pressing your knees against your chest.

Butcher sighed deeply at your question, his jaw clenching. “Your mother ain’t never taught you not to poke the fuckin hornets nest?” he questioned in a low voice as he shot you a side-eyed look before taking another gulp of the wine.

“Why are you being a cunt?” You asked as you raised your eyebrows, your head tilting to the side as your lips pulled into a thin line.

Butcher’s head snapped towards you. “Oi, where the fuck did you learn that?” he questioned as his eyes squinted at you.

You gave him a blank look as you slowly shook your head. “You.” You muttered as you stared at him.

He silently stared at you for a second before pouting out his lips. “Oh…right.” He uttered softly before taking another gulp of the wine.

You huffed softly as you reached out and took the bottle from him, putting it down on the crappy wooden coffee table in front of you. “So…why are you being a cunt?” You asked as you raised your eyebrows.

He huffed as well, staring ahead of himself as his jaw slightly clenched. “I ain’t bein' a cunt.” he muttered in a low voice.

“You are.” You argued as you nodded your head. You shifted a little closer, eyebrows furrowing and lips tugging into a frown. “Why to me?” You asked softly. Butcher was never like this with you. Never with you.

Butcher sighed softly, realizing you were right. He turned to face you, a frown tugging at his lips. “I ain’t mean to be one to you, luv.” He said softly as he shook his head, reaching out to pat your thigh in apology.

“Then tell me what’s going on?” You asked softly as your head tilted to the side again, your bottom lip slightly jutting out into a pout.

Butcher sighed deeply, reaching out for the wine and taking a few more gulps again. “You tell me what’s going on between you and Hughie.” He demanded as he pointed a finger toward you and then toward the door of Hughie’s shared bedroom.

“Me and Hughie?” You repeated in confusion before slowly shaking your head. “We’re just friends.” You insisted with a dismissive shrug of your shoulders.

He hummed as he nodded his head, raising his eyebrows at you. ”Oh are you now?” He questioned as he finished the last of the wine before tossing the bottle aside on the floor.

“The kid’s head over heels for Starlight.”You replied as a small smile tugged at your lips. What you would give to have the pure love Hughie and Annie shared. “No way in hell he’d ever be interested in me.” You scoffed with a shake of your head. You didn’t mind it though, your interests were elsewhere.

“Then he’s a dumb fuckin' cunt.” Butcher muttered softly as he shifted in his seat, leaning back on the couch with his head thrown back.

Your head shot towards him, eyebrows furrowing. “What?” You questioned softly, his words surprising and confusing you at the same time.

Butcher slowly turned his head to face you, offering you a small smile. “Anyone not interested in you luv, is a dumb cunt.” He repeated his words firmly as he kept eye contact with you.

You silently stared at him as his gaze diverted to the wall in front of him. You pursed your lips, your gaze remaining on him for a long while, not uttering a word for a while. You shifted in your seat, your head tilting to the side. “You?” You asked softly as you raised your eyebrows.

Butcher was silent for a second before his gaze met yours and he slowly shook your head. “Nah, I ain’t no dumb cunt.”  He replied.

Your heart skipped a slight beat as you stared at him. You gulped as you slowly nodded your head. “You’re not.” You muttered in regonizition. You were silent for another second before your head tilted to the side again. “So…it’s jealousy then?” You asked curiously.

Billy’s eyebrows furrowed as he looked at you in confusion for your comment. “What?” He questioned.

“Me and Hughie.” You replied softly as you nodded your head in the direction of Hughie’s shared room. “Are…you jealous?” You asked as an amused smile tugged at your lips.

Butcher stared at you before scoffing. “No.” He muttered with a shake of his head as his gaze diverted to the wall again and his eyebrows furrowed deeply.

You pursed your lips to hide your smile as you stared at him. Even after shifting closer to him so many times, there was still a lot of space between the two of you. You rolled your tongue over your teeth before letting your smile slip, the wine in your system kicking in and making you braver than usual. “Why don’t you come here and prove you’re not a dumb cunt?” You suggested.

Butcher’s head snapped towards you, his gaze darting around your face to see any sign of you pulling his leg. When he found none he let out a soft huff. “Fuckin hell.” he uttered before nearly launching towards you, grabbing onto your hair and tilting your head back as his lips pressed against yours in a hard and rough kiss. It was the start to something new between you and Butcher.

[rileyslibrary]

Be gentle, man!

Synopsis: You and the team go undercover to a dinner where high-profile guests are invited. You need to acquire vital information while acting posh at the same time. Good lord, help you all.

Relationship: Simon "Ghost" Riley x F!Reader, Task Force 141 x F!Reader

Word Count: 1,519 (approx. 6-7 min reading time)

Notes:

This is the second (and final) part of the story but you can read it as a oneshot. Here’s Part 1 if you’re interested.

No warnings; casual read with platonic relationships.

———————————————————————

The Athenian Palace: You’ve heard of the place a few times, mainly through the news, but never had the chance to visit. And why would you? Are you the president of a country? A diplomat? A wealthy businessperson with significant influence over government decision-makers? No, you are just a soldier among the many considered expendables. Your duty is to protect your country with your life—the same country that many attending the event have a vested financial interest in.

But today, everything is different. Today, you’re supposed to act like someone who comes from money.

For the past month, you and the rest of the team have undergone extensive training in formal dining, conversation, walking, and dancing. Everyone has adapted to their undercover personas somehow, except for Price, who couldn’t accompany you since he’s been undercover in a similar instance some years ago and poses a threat to the mission if he gets recognised.

Gaz required the least training among the four of you. You haven’t yet determined if he was naturally suited for this role or if his assigned persona was more straightforward than the rest. Nevertheless, he seemed comfortable conversing about the tech industry and acting like James Sinclair, the alleged tech entrepreneur.

On the other hand, Soap was the complete opposite of Gaz. Your etiquette instructor, Lady Theodora, struggled to mould him, but he always found a way to break free. Eventually, she found the tipping point to channel Soap’s extravagance to benefit the mission.

“What would you do if you were a trust fund child?” She asked, to which Soap replied that he would be “poised and all” but at the same time act “like Paris Hilton in the 2000s.” And that’s how Maxwell Vanderbilt—or “you can call me Max,” according to Soap—was born: with a mohawk, a loose-fitting suit, and an unchallenged attitude. You hated to admit it, but he was the most authentic and convincing among the four of you.

As for you and your Lieutenant, you were still adjusting to your role as a couple, particularly with the required intimacy. Yet, with Lady Theodora’s help, you managed to get closer, even if that involved a few unorthodox ways of doing things. One day, for example, she duck-taped your hands together and ordered you to spend the entire day together. She taught you how to dance, touch each other in public, and show, without telling, how you and Ghost— or Sir Ethan K. Wood—would infiltrate the facility and gather vital information as a couple.

He hated the name. “Why should I pretend to be fucking Ethan?” He asked, but Lady Theodora explained that it was a name forged by Laswell and she could do nothing about it. And when you told him you were named “Constance”, he spitted out his drink and immediately became grateful to Sir Ethan K. Wood.

Arriving in a Maserati Levante, you were greeted by a team of three people, two opening your doors and one guiding your hand as you stepped out of the car.

You wrap your arm around Ghost and approach the entrance.

As you walk through the imposing double doors, the room reveals itself in all its glory—a high ceiling decorated with murals stretch towards the heavens. The ballroom’s walls are draped in exquisite fabrics of gold and burgundy while crystal chandeliers cast a soft glow, illuminating the space and creating an inviting and elegant atmosphere.

The ballroom’s focal point is a large dance floor. It invites guests to dance while a live orchestra, hidden in a corner, fills the room with melodies. Surrounding the dance floor, elegant tables decorated with crisp linens showcase elaborate floral centrepieces, while towering candelabras provide additional illumination.

You look at the guests; men wear tailored tuxedos, and women glide in flowing gowns and sparkling jewellery. Your gaze shifts to Ghost, who looks dashing in a three-piece navy suit, a matching tie, and a white handkerchief in his chest pocket.

“Are you ready, my dear?” You ask with fake confidence.

“Ah, my love,” Ghost replies, “in for a penny...”

“... in for a fucking pound.”

“Language, Constance.” He corrects you sternly.

“Apologies, darling.”

You enter the crowd, mingling with the elite. Ghost introduces you as his wife, guiding you with a firm yet gentle touch on your back. Engaging in conversation, you discuss the land you supposedly own, the inflation—that most people in the room are the direct cause of—and collectively sorrow over the economy’s current state. All this while sipping champagne from crystal glassware that’s worth more than your annual salary.

Among the guests, you spot Soap conversing with a group of Wall Street figures. He appears relaxed, holding a glass of whiskey with an orange peel garnish.

“Ah, what can you do?” You hear his Scottish accent echoing in the room. “It’s a self-regulating market, after all.”

Lots of things baffle you in this world. Soap, talking about self-regulating markets with a bunch of Golden Boys who nod and agree with him just added another paradox to your list.

“Darling,” Ghost says, with his hand finding yours and interlacing your fingers, “dinner will be served shortly; let us find our table.”

You approach your seats, and Ghost pulls out a chair for you. As you settle in, you look around at the surrounding tables, searching for familiar faces. Gaz, sporting a suit with no tie and fake glasses, is seated at the table next to yours and talks with the people around him.

The evening unfolds with a symphony of courses served with artistic precision. Each dish arrives like a work of art—a culinary masterpiece. You apply Lady Theodora’s training and indulge in the exquisite feast while engaging polite conversations. You observe and listen closely to the guests’ discussions, hoping to obtain any valuable information that might aid your mission.

With dinner concluded, everyone moved to the ballroom for the entertainment segment. Ghost discreetly signals for you to follow him. Excusing yourselves, you navigate the corridors of the Athenian Palace, with the music and chatter fading as you reach the server room.

“This is it,” Ghost whispers as he approaches the servers. “The information we need should be here. You need to get to work.”

You nod and navigate the complex digital landscape, leveraging your technical expertise to penetrate the encrypted files. Meanwhile, Ghost maintains a vigilant watch and stands guard, ensuring no unexpected disruptions throw a wrench into your plans. Each creak or distant voice makes him reach for the gun in his inner jacket pocket.

Minutes pass like hours. Suddenly, your face lights up.

“Got it!” you shout, and Ghost brings a finger to his lips, urging you to keep quiet.

“Got it!” You repeat, this time in a whisper.

“Good girl,” he replies softly, “now let’s go find the others and get the fuck out of here.”

You begin your return to the ballroom, but things feel strange this time. The calm conversations surrounding the place have turned to screams, and the music sounds somewhat different than when you left the hall.

Ghost puts a hand in front of you and stops you.

“What’s going on, Constance?” he asks, concerned.

“Let’s find out, my love,” you reply, loading the pistol strapped to your thigh.

You run through the corridors, but there’s no one there—it sounds like everyone has gathered in the main hall.

Just before entering the ballroom, you compose yourself, adopting the poised stance Lady Theodora taught you. You enter the hall to uncover the reason behind the change in atmosphere.

Soap stands on a table in the centre of the ballroom, flipping his mohawk from left to right in sync with the rhythm of “Macarena”, played by the orchestra. Ties are now worn as headbands, and champagne glasses have become shots.

Dumbfounded by the spectacle unfolding right before your eyes, you approach Gaz.

“Ga-James, what’s the deal with all this?” You ask while looking at Soap dancing on the table.

Gaz chuckles, adjusts his fake glasses, and points towards Soap. “This fucking genius had a brilliant plan to create a diversion while you two were working your magic behind the scenes.”

Ghost raises an eyebrow. “So, this whole… thing is Soap’s way of keeping the spotlight off us?”

Gaz nods. “Exactly, mate. Soap figured throwing a wild party would divert the security’s focus from their employer’s safety.”

You look at Soap, who has now started a conga line. “If their employer is too drunk and occupied, they won’t care about outside threats,” you utter.

“Indeed,” Gaz says, “they have a whole other worry; their employer not getting any more shitfaced.”

“That audacious, brilliant motherfucker,” Ghost shakes his head in awe, “he just created the perfect cover for our mission.”

Soap notices you looking at him and raises his hands triumphantly. He looks so proud of his achievement. He brings his thumbs to his chest and mouths something.

“What is he saying?” You ask, confused.

Ghost’s lips curve up, and he leans towards you.

“He says,” he whispers in your ear, “like Paris Hilton in the 2000s.”

———————————————————————

[fictional-orphan-smackdown]

ROUND 3, MATCH 5!

All propaganda and what each competitor is from under the cut

Trafalgar D. Water Law (Once Piece)

Law is a genocide survivor who saw his parents' dead bodies along with experiencing a whole bunch of other messed up stuff (his sister burning to death, the people of his country being shot for being poisoned by their own government, being terminally ill, escaping the genocide by hiding under a pile of dead bodies, etc etc). After all this shit, he eventually got forcibly adopted by this one guy and dragged around the world looking for a cure for his illness. Right when Law started to trust and love his new caretaker, he is also brutally murdered in front of him. Law's life goal for the next decade is to get revenge on the person who killed his adoptive father. Vote for him bc he needs a goddamn win for once in his life. He is the people's princess and the narrative's favorite punching bag. Also, his depressed, PTSD-ridden autistic swag and scoliosis realness have captivated me body and soul

His biological parents were killed (before his eyes, by the governement) when he was 10(?). He then joined a bunch of pirates, knowing he wouldn't have much time (and will) left to live anyway. There he was sort of adopted by the Big Bad Pirate's brother, who managed to save his life, only for said brother to be killed (more or less before Law's eyes, by the Big Bad Pirate), when he was 13. You could say he was orphaned twice.

He’s literally got the double orphan special (Parents died and then the guy who took him in after them died too) that’s a 50% increase in orphannedness above your standard orphan. He’s also cool as fuck.

Law's parents were already on death row along with him and his younger sister due to a disease that shortens the life span of a person. The disease can only be passed down genetically and has afflicted everyone in the town that he has grown up in. Due to the sudden outbreak and unknown nature of the disease to the rest of the world panicked and the government closed off his city, killing everyone there. That is how his first set of parents died when he was 10, I think. Still then Law would later join a pirate crew where he would eventually be taken away 2-3 years later by Corazon, marine working undercover as a pirate in order to take down this brother, who is the captain of crew Law joined. Corazon took him in order to cure Law's disease which he still had and to get him away from Doflamingo, his brother. Over the course of 6 months the two became close with Corazon essentially becoming a father figure to Law. I am simplify this but at some point of Doflamingo catches on to Corazon being a double agent and finds him. Doflamingo then proceeds to find Corazon and shoot him in front of a chest that Law was hiding in.

Law has faced many hardships since he was a child, but used his experiences to become an extremely powerful doctor. His pirate crew theme and his Devil Fruit ability are all owed to his adoptive father. Law acts really gruff and serious most of the time, initially seeming like a cool, calculating character and feared swordsman… but one second around the Straw Hats and you quickly see just how silly he really is. He hates bread. He collects coins. He is obsessed with ninjas and superhero comic books. In one arc he just fucked around with his powers and INVENTED harpies and centaurs. Oh, and his First Mate is a polar bear. What could be better than that?

The government ordered to kill everyone in Law's country due to everyone getting "fantasy lead poisoning" disease, which was wrongfully thought to be contagious stroked. Law's family was living at the hospital when they got attacked, his parents (who were doctors) got killed and the hospital got set on fire with his little sister inside. He managed to fled the country hiding in a pile of corpses and ended up joining a pirate crew lead by Doflamingo. Law knew he had the disease and it was going to kill him in three years. Doflamingo's brother, Rosinante took Law hospital to hospital to find a cure but they always rejected him thinking the disease was contagious. Then they learned that someone had offered Doflamingo a devil fruit that could grant him immortality. The fruit could also cure Law so Rosinante stole it and made Law eat it. He then made sure Law could escape Doflamingo and got killed by his brother.

dude spent his childhood getting thrown out of windows, while dying from a deadly disease (that was eventually cured) but while he was still showing symptoms of the disease no one would go near him out of fear and disgust, save for his father figure.

nothing can ever go right for this man. its fucking hilarious in the series and makes for some wonderful angst content. i want everyone who has not watched or read One Piece to know that, for half of his 'main' arc, he's carried around like a potato sack by MULTIPLE people. he is a damsel in despair. he didn't even need to be carried, he honestly could've walked, but he had to save that energy so he could take the like 17 lead bullets out of him. he's always getting shot or thrown out a window and he's severely injured more often than not. he's also a doctor/surgeon, one that should be able to cure incurable diseases, yet his pathetic loserboy ass is too busy being emo to worry about the several gunshot wounds and internal bleeding. god help this man but also don't because honestly it's really fucking funny

Ok, FIRST, when he was a tiny frog-disecting little kid, him and his family and island contacted a disease equivalent to cancer BUT his fam didn't die from that. No, no, his parents got gunned down by the military and his little sis was burned alive with the rest of his house, so, yeah, very traumatic, horrific in a way that makes you very angry at yourself and life and want to oh I don't know, kill everyone and everything possible until the day you die, which won't be long because you have cancer after all. Later, after joining a mafia/cult/gang, Law meets Corazon who after like 2 years kidnaps him to try and get him healed and so they spend the next 6 months bonding, WEEEEEE!! Wait, no, NOT weeee because Cora who is now his father-figure DIES having protected and saved him, and thus bruv becomes orphaned not once, not thrice, but TWO very traumatic times! If this isn't an orphan, idk what is……

Anthony Lockwood (Lockwood and Co)

Lockwood (he's known by his surname mostly) is the mysterious, daredevil and charming founder of Lockwood and Co., a detective agency specialised in protecting people from angry -and sometimes sort of hungry- ghosts in a world where they're rampant. His agency is starting small despite Lockwood bragging it's the best in London but get more and more recognition as the series progress and the agents composing them meet success (when they're not on the verge of dying). Lockwood has open manners but hid his painful past from his coworkers to protect himself. He and George, the first teenager he recruited, are quite stunned by Lucy, a country girl who fled to London after disaster striked in her hometown. Thanks to her talent, she quickly becomes known as one of the best ghost fighter in London and finds her place in the small team despite having the same determination to hide her past than Lockwood, which draws him close to her, making George jealous, but Lockwood's manifest good skills in leadership and the three of them become fast friends while unravelling secret truths and risking their lives repeatedly

He has a lot of trauma and a lot of pain but he always smiles and always has a warm and polite attitude; he’s so protective of the ones he loves that it overrides his suicidal tendencies; at the end of the series he starts to heal from his past; he’s hot but has only two braincells.

[mynameisjag]

Quick Prompt: Wanting What Someone Else Has.

Scott finds out about the new Logan, Wade doesn't care about Scott's problems. Logan isn't even aware.

Wade stared at Scott.

Scott stared at Wade.

At least the mercenary assumed he was, kind of hard to tell, you know…with the glasses…

He’d give him a point for managing to get the drop on him though, showed up late enough not to be any help, early enough were they hadn’t left the mark's disgustingly beige mansion.

It looked better with the splashes of red everywhere.

Even the boring ass, uncomfortable lounges that they were sitting on, looked better with the splatter.

Cyclops was sitting on the less messy one, so maybe he didn’t agree or he just choose that one because then they could just sit and stare at each other face to face.

“Where’s Logan?”

“Better question, how are you alive? This better not be some multiverse MCU bullshit.”

Logan was probably eating his fill in the kitchen, the owners pervert party was catered and why leave and get underwhelming fast food when there was free rich fucks food that was going to go to waste anyway.

Lo had talked about his…hunting trips…sometimes, always on the move, always going from target to target, that at one point it was just sensible to eat what was there, rest, take what was need and move on. Considering how most of the fucks he went after were people of high importance, government jobs or just rich assholes, their was always alcohol, fancy foods, and wallets that no one noticed was gone till it was too late.

So this current hit was just another day for the feral.

Scott’s Logan was more man then his, could easily be mistaken for just another human without powers.

Wade’s though, his had lost himself to the calling of his inner animal and became it as he hunted those that had hurt his family. Body changing to its new needs, becoming the human predator he needed to be.

Logan hated it, hated what his body became, his behavior, his instincts, everything that changed, he hated it all. He spent so long trying to fit the profile others had tried to shove him into that losing himself to what was himself was a failure in his eyes. A shameful failure.

It wasn’t true of course and they were working on that, both supporting each other because they both were so fucked up but at least they were fucked up together.

Wade talked to the air and the millions of eyes that watched them, Logan would snarl and make more animal sounds then use his voice at times.

The merc highly doubted the X-men, at least this version, were going to be able to handle his Wolverine.

“There’s no dog for you to collar here, laser pointer, so why don’t you make your way back to whoever else has found the well of life in that mansion and fuck off.”

Seemed like he might have hit a nerve as that frown somehow got deeper, “I’m here for my friend.”

“You’re a good couple of states away from your Wolverine’s grave, can get you an Uber there if your that directionally challenged.”

“We know he is here, with you-“

“-Nope! Again, you have eye issues not hearing, your-hear that strain on that-your Logan is dead.” Deadpool reached forward to grab a drink he had set on the end table earlier before getting interrupted, “speaking of dead, you still haven’t answered how you’re still kicking around.”

“Your life isn’t the only one that involves time travels.”

“Oh, good, just the normal X-men bullshit then, should we be expecting the other Logan then?”

“No…he is still…gone…his body, or what we can find of it, is now resting back at the mansion…not all of us are back.”

“Oooh, I probably should have put that puzzle back together before jumping…everyone is still on the fence on whether or not old Wolves would have gotten a kick out of me playing Ninja Warrior with his tibias?”

“And what does that mean?”

“Ignore it and my little chats with the “gremlins” as Honey Bunny puts it, now, I’m going to guess you thought if you couldn’t have one, you figured you could take mine? Did Daddy Professor not drill in manners in all of that training, it’s rude to take other people’s stuff.”

“He isn’t your ‘stuff’, you don’t know how to handle him.”

At that precise moment, Logan ran past in the background, on all fours and a chunk of meat in his mouth, the merc was glad that Cyclops couldn’t follow his line of sight because of the mask. Cause all the red head had to do was slightly turn his head and he would see the man he was searching for bounding upstairs like an overly excited puppy with a new toy.

Either the man found fresh grade A steak or he had decided that some one smelled delicious and took a chuck. 50 50 chance on either option really and at least the blood was everywhere here instead of back in the apartment.

Al was less likely to complain when she didn’t slip and slide through puddles of blood.

“Handle him? Scottie too Hottie!”, at this point he lifts his mask enough to sip at the drink in his hand, grimacing at the flavor, how did they make fruit soda taste bad, “ugh, high society tastes are awful,” he wiggles the can at the other man, “want it?”

“No.”

“Don’t blame you, I can how ever blame you for thinking that for some shit reason that Lobunny, wait fuck that’s a Pokémon, Lo Bun Bun, is unable to think for himself and that I somehow can stop him from going wherever he wants to go.”

“He hasn’t came home, yet, if he was able to go-“

“That place isn’t his home, you are not his X-men, he is not a replacement, well, he is an anchor being replacement but not a ‘pick up where the last Logan left off’ replacement. So what ever regrets or amends you wanted to have, they should be aimed at the grave and not the man you wished was the one you lost,” Deadpool threw the can over the others head, before flipping over the couch he was on, landing on his feet and giving double finger guns at the X-man before the can could hit the wall, “well, good chat, but we gotta go!”

Scott was standing up now, face serious and ready to counter argue when flashing lights from outside reflected in the windows, sirens coming closer, “is that the police?”

“Yeah!,” now the mercenary was opening a window, hanging halfway out of it as he made grabby hands at something above him, “hope you got a ride,” blue colored gloves grabbed his red ones and he was yanked out and upward, “tootles!”

Scott took a deep breath, calming himself down before turning and heading toward his own escape.

He’ll try another day.

[dolche-tejada]

So I wanted to point out the usual nonsenses coming from Tony Stark antis and luckily enough, one of them made a post quoting pretty much most of their popular "arguments" (if I can refer to them as such), so let's take a look at this user’s main points and see how solid they are.

"Let's talk about the horrible shit Tony has done in the MCU"

Please keep in mind the "horrible shit" term all along during your reading.

"MCU Tony has mortared a city full of civilians"

Okay so first point and it literally never happened. USA's government did that to Wanda and Pietro's town, not Tony so I hope it wasn't too painful to pull this nonsense out of your ass.

"Been a complete dick to all of his teammates"

Oh no... he was mean to Steve and his coworkers during their first movie ? What a complete tragedy, what a heartless monster. Please stop the violins, otherwise I might weep.

"Made multiple misogynistic comments about women mainly Natasha (looking at you prima nocta scene)"

Okay so you gave only one example to back this up and it's when he was obviously joking with his friends. Even if that joke may be in very bad taste, that doesn't make him a horrible person like you tried to demonstrate, you're just nitpicking.

"Manipulated a 16 year old into getting into a war with his former teammates"

A) "a war" please don't make me laugh. For most of the only fight Peter take part in, both sides were joking with the other while fighting and weren't even fighting seriously, they were just trying to incapacitate each other. Things only get messy after Tony ordered Peter to step back.

B) Tony didn't manipulate shit. He hid no vital informations to Peter and while bringing a 16 year old to an arrest was indeed a stupid decision, he knew Steve wouldn't harm him and that Peter was strong, competent and equipped enough to deal with him.

"Thought he was completely justified for trying to kill Bucky for something Bucky did unwillingly cuz he was fucking brainwashed"

Why the fuck are you lying ? At no point Tony justified himself for this. He tried during the whole Civil War plot to ease things with Steve and this even after his best friend got disabled for life because Steve escalated the situation at the airport, only to learn then that his friend lied to him all along about his parents' death.

At this point Tony just didn't care anymore and while he was obviously wrong for trying to kill Bucky, it's not like he had no understandable reasons to go after him. Brainwashed or not, most people would try to obliterate their parents' murderer if he stood right in front of them.

"Repeatedly mocked Bruce Banner who was filled with self loathing and even tried to kill himself because of how much he hated being The Hulk"

Firstly he joked with him, not about him. Secondly, Tony was the only one who respected Bruce from the start and never treated him like some ticking bomb ready to explode.

"Created most of the villains in the MCU (Mysterio and Co., Vulture, Aldrich Killian, The Maximoff Twins, Justin Hammer, The Flag-Smashers etc)"

Okay, where do I even begin on that.

Quentin Beck was a narcissistic asshole who got mad because his boss called his invention "B.A.R.F", that and Tony tossing it aside because this tech was way too expansive for its very limited applications. So not Tony's fault if Beck had an ego more fragile than a soap bubble.

Hammer tried to destroy Tony's image and Stark Industries first, so Tony defended himself by revealing he crippled a man by trying to replicate his tech. Hammer fucked around and found out, not Tony's fault if he's an hypocritical idiot.

Concerning the Flag Smashers, the reason they became terrorists wasn't caused by Tony bringing back half of the universe, it was due to the Global Repatriation Council's disastrous resources management.

About Toomes, Tony had no prior knowledge of the contract he signed with NY and even if he did, leaving dangerous alien tech in the hands of random people is quite a moronic idea, as evidenced by what they did with this tech for years. Not Tony's fault if Toomes is delusional and sucks at his job.

Aldrich Killian ? Be fucking real, he became a super-villain just because Tony ignored him, an archetypal greasy-haired nerd who literally drools as he talks, for a pretty chick on New Year's Eve.

Like obviously, when a serial killer stab someone to death, the most logical reaction is to blame those who assemble knives at the factory rather than the murderer himself, makes perfect sense to me.

The Maximoff Twins, my god this argument again... Yeah let's blame the guy who designed and sold weapons to his government rather than, oh I don't know, the fucking guys who used them against civilians ??

"Which also means he's also had some hand in the deaths caused by all these characters"

Literally none of the characters you quoted became super-villains because of him.

"Created Ultron"

He intended to create a security system against other alien invasions and it resulted in a genocidal robot, which only happened because Wanda mindraped him some hours before. Tony is responsible for Ultron's creation, Wanda for what he became.

And I don't want to see anybody whining in my mentions that he already planned to design Ultron prior to her mindraping him, not when she had this fucking grin after seeing Tony taking the Mind Stone with him.

Let alone when she threw this line, later in the movie : I saw Stark’s fear. I knew it would control him, make him self destruct.

She knew letting him take the Stone would cause something awful that might also kill him and she used her powers to make him even more paranoid. She's responsible for Ultron going from "A suit of armor around the world" to "Genocidal Murder Bot", not Tony.

"Thought it was a good idea to have a newly created AI be exposed to The Mind Stone which caused Ultron to kill JARVIS and go rogue

A) Which again wouldn't have happened if Wanda hadn't mindraped him the same day.

B) He didn't consciously exposed Ultron to it, the Mind Stone corrupted the AI on its own, something Tony and Bruce had no way to predict.

C) Still not his fault anyway. Ultron is sentient, he takes his own decisions. Tony being his "father" doesn't change anything to this state of fact.

"Profited off of war by making weapons of mass destruction and selling them"

Something he's spent over a decade to make amend for, notably by closing his weapons division and dedicating his life and resources to helping people and saving the world.

"Bought illegally obtained vibranium stolen directly from Wakanda by Klaue"

False too. All we know is that they met each other at the time Tony was still designing weapons ; and that Klaue told him he was looking for something new. At no point was it implied Tony illegally bought vibranium from him.

"Technically responsible for more vibranium being stolen from Wakanda by Klaue due to Ultron"

This vibranium was already stolen by Klaue when Ultron met him.

"Being responsible for everyone who died in Sokovia's death because he made Ultron"

So following your reasoning, I guess Jeffrey Dahmer's parents are responsible for every murder their son committed from his own free-will ? Did I get that right ?

"Being unwilling to help Steve and the others fix the Blip cuz muh daughter"

My god, how dare he... being against playing with time and rather trying to accept what happened while taking care of his family.

And this when we know screwing up with time can cause world-ending events.

Truly a proof of how horrible of a human being he is, indeed.

Btw I like how you ignored that Tony changed his mind and helped them afterwards.

"Supported The Sokovia Accords which need I remind you all Tony is technically responsible for The Accords being made because A. he's the one who killed Wanda's parents (blah blah blah, a lot of false attributions later...) causing her to kill Crossbones and a building full of people"

Still isn't him who dropped those mortar shells on her house. Just like it's not him who pushed Crossbones to go suicide-bombers, wrote the Sokovia Accords and incited 119 countries to sign them.

"and B. he is literally responsible for what happened to Sokovia BECAUSE HE MADE ULTRON"

Already answered to this shit, let's continue.

"Referring to Wanda as "a weapon of mass destruction" in Civil War"

Lmao because she isn't ? No one forced Wanda to join a terrorist organization, pal. Just like no one pushed her to act as a weapon of mass destruction, by using her powers to send Hulk on a rampage across Johannesburg or by enslaving Westview.

"meanwhile HE is the REASON SHE has her powers in the first place"

Sure, Tony whispered in her ear every night to go serve as a guinea pig for Nazis in order to get her revenge on him. I forgot this part of Wanda's backstory, silly me.

"Falsely imprisoning the heroes that didn't sign The Accords because he's a cunt"

Tony don't have any power or authority to imprison people, and the heroes he stopped got incarcerated because they indeed broke the law, you jackass.

"Being technically responsible for all the deaths caused by Wanda in Wandavision and DSATMOM because if he didn't kill her parents with his mortar..."

I don't think you know what "technically" means.

"then her and Pietro wouldn't have went to Hydra thus not getting their powers from The Mind Stone"

You know what would have actually prevented all the deaths Wanda caused ? Her not willingly joining Nazis to get her powers and going on a murder spree.

"And you are probably thinking "But he sacrificed himself at the end of Endgame !""

To save the whole universe indeed. That and quite a few other things, such as :

Outright refusing to help terrorists and getting tortured as a result.

Risking his life to save Yinsen.

Saving Afghans villagers from terrorists.

Saving Pepper and SHIELD's agents from Obadiah Stane.

Actively saving people on a daily basis, and this for a decade.

Developing a shit ton of armors to protect people more efficiently.

Saving New York and the world overall from Chitauris.

Stopping Killian from taking over the USA.

Curing Pepper from the Extremis treatment.

Designing Veronica with Bruce.

Fighting Hulk to protect Johannesburg.

Saving the world once again, alongside the Avengers.

Awarding promising students with the funds to develop their own projects and inventions.

Granting his tech to Peter and designing for him two suits that allowed him to save many lives.

Saving Stephen's life from Ebony Maw.

Helping the Avengers to travel in other timelines.

"Let me ask you this : If Strange had hold Tony that the only way to defeat Thanos is if Tony sacrificed himself would Tony do it"

It's literally what happened during Endgame, you fucking bozo. What do you think was the meaning of this scene ?

And it's not like it was something new, he was always ready to die for others' sake, right from the start, did you even watched the first Avengers movie ?

No wait, even better : Have you at least watched the beginning of his first solo movie ?

I wasn't expecting anything from Tony antis but sucking that hard at watching a movie is quite impressive ngl.

"Bottom line is MCU Wanda sucks and Tony Stark sucks"

Yeah no shit, that's pretty easy to say when you're making up lies to support your hate boner.

So in conclusion, this dude has no idea of what he's talking about and neither does Tony antis in general for using these bs as arguments.

[redislazy]

Deadly Attachments, Chapter 01

Chapter 02 >>

[EVENTUAL SMUT] - Minors DNI

> ao3 <

Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x female!Reader

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Summary: As a skilled mercenary, you've navigated countless high-stakes missions—until one job puts you in the crosshairs of Task Force 141 and the elusive "Ghost." Now forced into an uneasy alliance, you’re drawn into a dangerous game of shifting loyalties and hidden motives. But as the stakes climb higher, one question lingers: how close can you get to the man who was meant to be a shadow in your path?

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Content Tags: Enemies to Lovers, Military Action & Romance, Mercenaries, Soldiers, Non-Canon Antagonists, Eventual Smut, Military Inaccuracies, Slow Burn, Will add smut-specific tags later as the story goes

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Author's Note: i've been wanting to write a multi-chapter Ghost x female!reader fic for a while now, and i'm excited to finally share it! i've already written a lot of chapters in advance, though they still need tons of proofreading; English is NOT my native language, so i rely heavily on tools like Autocrit, Grammarly, and ProWriting Aid to help me with grammar and flow + my bf, who's a native speaker, has been super helpful with this project. <3 a quick heads-up: there are likely some military inaccuracies;; sorry in advance! comments and feedback are hugely appreciated; they help me know if i'm on the right track! (10/29/24) edit: i made a playlist on both Spotify and Youtube!! it’s not exactly tailored to the story’s vibe, but more like the songs that kept me in the zone while writing. have fun!

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You stare at the dingy wall of the interrogation room, your body weary from being bound to the chair for hours. You've always been pretty damn good at your job, but somehow, you finally met someone that matched your skills, managing to catch you. You—a mercenary who's been in the industry for ten years, and never once have you been in a bind like this. You let out a loud groan, your frustrations growing the more they make you wait in the room. Typical for the SAS to waste people's time like this.

The door swings open and in walks a tall figure clad in tactical gear, a skull balaclava covering his face. His cold blue eyes peer through the holes in the mask, scrutinizing you. The sound of boots echoing against the concrete floor is the only thing that fills the tense silence. He takes his time to observe you, noticing the signs of weariness and frustration etched on your face. He takes a seat across the table, his movements deliberate and controlled, making sure you know who's in charge here. He leans forward, arms crossed, and studies you.

"Alright," he says, his British accent sharp and authoritative, "let's cut to the chase. We know you've been working with those Russian bastards. What we want to know is why?" His voice is stern and unwavering, making it clear he won't tolerate any lies or evasion. He takes a moment to analyze your body language and reactions, trying to read you like an open book.

His hatred towards you isn't personal, at least not yet. But you represent everything he despises in this world—mercenaries who sell themselves to do dirty work without considering the consequences of their actions. He hates the fact that he has to deal with your kind in the first place. But he also knows that sometimes, information is more valuable than a bullet, especially when it comes to taking down the enemy. So, he'll play this game of cat and mouse for now.

You take a deep breath, stopping yourself from popping up a vein at his question. "I've been telling you this whole time! I'm not one of Kozlov's men. I'm a merc, okay? I was hired by a PMC." You let out an angry huff.

Once a decorated intelligence officer within Russia’s GRU, Viktor Kozlov became disillusioned with what he saw as the corruption and moral decay of powerful nations. After a covert operation went wrong and exposed him to the brutal lengths governments would go to maintain control, he vanished, presumed dead. In reality, Viktor spent years gathering resources, supporters, and arms to launch his own crusade against the "imperialist and morally corrupt" systems of the world. Now, he leads The New Dawn, a terrorist network dedicated to dismantling global powers through calculated attacks designed to destabilize entire regions.

The masked man raises an eyebrow at your response, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms over his chest. He taps his fingers lightly on the table, the rhythm a silent countdown before he speaks again. "A PMC, you say? And yet, here you are, in the middle of our operation against Kozlov," he retorts, his voice still cold and calculating. In his mind, he's already running through various scenarios and possibilities, trying to piece together your story and find any holes in it. He leans forward once more, the dim light reflecting off his skull balaclava, creating an intimidating visage. "Who hired you? And what were your orders?"

You scoff at his question. "You think I'd just tell you who I work for? I may not look like it, but I have a decent work ethic."

Ghost chuckles darkly at your defiance, his eyes narrowing slightly. "Work ethic, huh? You do know we have our ways of making people talk, right?" His tone turns icy, making it clear he's not one to be trifled with. "Look, we're not playing games here. If you're truly not one of Kozlov's men, then you'll tell us who sent you. If you don't, I can't guarantee your safety. We both know how things can go south pretty quickly in our line of work." He pauses, letting his words sink in before adding, "And if you are lying, well, then it's just a matter of time before we find out anyway. So, what's it going to be?" His voice is firm, leaving no room for negotiation.

You take a moment to study the expression in his eyes, the only part of his face that is exposed. It's almost impossible to tell what he's thinking.

You sigh, recognizing that you no longer have the energy to prolong this game with the SAS any further. You've already been compromised. Hard. Is it truly worth it to hide details of your mission at this point? He's right; even if you don't talk, they'll find out eventually.

"Fine," you finally relent. "Aegis Black Ops. That’s who I work for. They’re a black-budget PMC; no official ties, just results. We take the jobs no one else can—stealing intel, sabotage, high-risk extractions. Founded by an ex-CIA agent, they run ops in total secrecy. Kozlov's been on our radar for a while now, and Aegis has a personal score to settle. We’ve hit his operations before, and my task was to steal data while he and his men are preoccupied fighting you SAS lot," you answer firmly, with no hint of any deceit in your tone.

Ghost listens intently to your explanation, his expression unchanging behind the balaclava. It's not uncommon for private military contractors to have their own agendas, but it doesn't mean he has to trust them blindly. After a moment of contemplation, he finally speaks up, "So, why didn't you just come clean from the start? We could've saved ourselves a lot of trouble." There's a hint of annoyance in his voice, but it's quickly replaced by curiosity. "What kind of data were you after? And what's so special about Kozlov that Aegis wants him out of the picture?" He leans forward, resting his elbows on the table and steepling his fingers together, studying you carefully.

You cross your arms, meeting his gaze steadily. “I didn’t ‘come clean’ because I know exactly how this works,” you say, keeping your voice cool. “You and the SAS might claim the high ground, but governments? They’ll weaponize any intel they can get their hands on. I’m not here to hand over data that’ll just end up as another piece on some political chessboard.”

You let out a low breath, fighting the urge to laugh at the irony. “As for Kozlov, he’s a threat, sure. But to Aegis, he’s also an opportunity—an unstable element that could bring a lot of secrets to the surface if we get to him first. I’m not here to play nice or pretend I’m on some noble crusade. I just know where my loyalty lies—and it’s not with any government.”

He maintains eye contact with you, a flicker of amusement crossing his mind. He nods slowly, acknowledging your position. "Understood." His tone is terse, showing no sign of taking offense at your blatant lack of trust. He pushes himself off the chair, his military boots echoing in the cold concrete interrogation room. He paces around, his shadow looming over the data on the table. "We both want Kozlov gone," he finally says, stopping to look down at you. "That's enough common ground for now. But I'll need proof that you can deliver." He pauses, allowing his words to hang in the air. "Any proposals?" Ghost asks, his British accent clipped and authoritative.

"I propose you untie me off this chair and send me home. I'm not going to get involved with whatever you're planning from here on out. I failed my mission already because of you, and that's where my role ended." You glare at him, each word sharp with irk.

He raises an eyebrow at your defiance, his jaw clenching slightly. He reaches up, running his gloved fingers along the edge of his balaclava. "Well, now that's a problem, isn't it?" he replies coldly. "Because I can't exactly let you go back to your merry little band of thieves after all this." His eyes narrow, assessing your reaction to his words. "Besides, if you're half as good as you claim to be, then I could use someone like you. And it'd be a shame to waste talent like yours because of some misplaced loyalty." He closes the gap between you in a few short strides. Leaning in close, he looks down at you with an air of challenge. "So, what's it going to be? Are you going to be a liability...or an asset?"

You raise an eyebrow, smirking up at him, not budging an inch as he closes in. “Oh, please,” you say sharply, mimicking his demeanor. “Let’s get one thing straight—‘misplaced loyalty’ isn’t in my vocabulary. I know exactly who I’m loyal to, and let’s just say it isn’t anyone waving a government flag.”

You tilt your head, meeting his stare without flinching. “And as for being a ‘liability’ or an ‘asset’? Let’s not pretend you didn’t decide to let me live because of my expertise in the first place. Maybe you’re starting to realize you need someone like me a little more than you thought, huh?”

You shrug, all casual defiance. “So, what’s your choice, skull-face? Going to trust a so-called ‘liability’ to get the job done, or keep playing it safe with your merry band of rule-followers?”

He straightens up, his gaze never leaving yours. "Skull-face, huh?" he replies dryly. "You think that name bothers me?" He leans closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. "You're not the first to try to get under my skin." He steps back, his eyes glinting with a dangerous edge. He crosses his arms again, studying you closely.

You snort at his response. "Now, don't get me wrong, I simply just don't know what your name is. Until you introduce yourself to me properly, well, 'skull-face' it is." You give him an annoyed look, remembering how he just brought you in here with no pleasantries whatsoever.

He chuckles softly, the sound sending a chill down your spine. "Fair enough," he concedes, his voice dripping with sarcasm. He takes a deep breath, contemplating his next words. "Names aren't important in our line of work," he says finally. "But since you asked so nicely, you may call me...Ghost."

A loud, audible chuckle escapes your lips as he mentions his name. "Ghost? Really? You think that sounds cool or so—"

But then it hits you, and your laughter dies mid-sentence. The callsign is strikingly familiar, and suddenly, the pieces fall into place. You let out a heavy groan, frustration washing over you.

In this line of work, you hear a lot about the big players, whether they’re on the right side or the wrong side of the law. Whispers swirl around powerful individuals, and one name always stands out: Task Force 141. Rumor has it they’re a unit of some of the most skilled soldiers, and one particular figure has earned a notorious reputation. A man who wears a skull balaclava and goes by the callsign 'Ghost'. Stories of his exploits send shivers down the spine of those who hear them.

Now that you’ve connected the dots, your previous confidence evaporates. The realization that you’re in the custody of this man sends a chill down your spine. The idea of wriggling free from his grasp suddenly seems a lot more daunting.

"Ah, so you're that 'Ghost'," you manage to say, the cockiness in your voice significantly dimmed.

He watches as your demeanor shifts upon hearing his name, and a smug sense of satisfaction fills him. He nods slowly, letting you process the information. "You might want to reconsider your choices," he warns, his voice low and serious. "You're in, whether you like it or not." He cuts off your restraints, freeing you.

You stretch your arms, letting out a sigh of relief. You get up from the seat, and you walk towards him, stopping right in front of him. His towering figure does not intimidate you at all.

"Just this one time. After I'm done being your lapdog, I'm out of here. Give me your word," you say commandingly.

Ghost studies you for a moment, your boldness surprising him.

"Very well," he agrees, holding out his hand. "One job, then you're free to go. But know this," he adds, his gaze hardening, "if you try to pull anything, I will make sure your name becomes nothing more than a whisper in the wind." Ghost's voice holds an underlying threat, but there's also a hint of intrigue.

Now that you know who he is, you no longer find it in you to scoff at his threats. You just silently stare at him, not saying a word any further as you accept his hand.

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Ghost remains silent as he leads you through the dimly lit corridors of the base, his mind working overtime, processing the unexpected turn of events. He hates being cornered, but something about your tenacity intrigues him. Upon reaching your designated quarters, he opens the door and motions for you to enter.

"Get some rest," he orders gruffly. "We leave at first light." Once you're inside, he closes the door behind you.

Relieved that the room includes a bathroom, you quickly take a shower, dressing in one of the spare outfits provided once you're done. You lie in the darkness of the room, attempting to ignore the creaks and hums of the unfamiliar environment, your mind drifting back to the mission, replaying every detail.

The plan had been flawless—or at least, that’s what Aegis led you to believe. They sent you in, banking on the fact that the SAS and Kozlov’s men would be too focused on tearing each other apart to notice you slipping in through the chaos. You'd timed it perfectly, darting through darkened hallways, avoiding the sounds of gunfire echoing down the corridors as you closed in on the server room.

The data was right where the intel said it’d be, and for a moment, you actually thought you’d pull it off without a hitch. You were halfway through the upload, the light on your drive flashing as it sucked in everything Aegis needed, little by little. The noise outside was just enough to cover the hum of the servers, your fingers poised, watching the data percentage tick up.

Then you felt it—that prickle on the back of your neck. Before you could even look, a shadow moved behind you, and the next thing you knew, a hand was on you, dragging you backward. You’d spun around, aiming to get the drop on him, but you barely managed a step before Ghost countered, deflecting every strike you threw. It was like hitting stone—unyielding, relentless. For every blow you threw, he responded faster and stronger.

You’d landed a few hits—felt the contact, heard his grunt—but it didn’t faze him for a second. Within minutes, you were pinned, arms behind your back, his grip ironclad. He didn’t even say a word, just hauled you up and marched you out, tossing your drive onto the floor like a discarded toy.

And now, here you are, lying in this cold, uncomfortable bed, running the event over in your head, wondering where exactly you went wrong.

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The following morning, Ghost knocks sharply on your door. When you open it, he sizes you up, noting your disheveled appearance. "Get changed," he commands, tossing a duffel bag at your feet, likely containing a fresh set of tactical gear in your size. "Mission briefing in fifteen minutes."

At the briefing, with everyone assembled on time, Ghost stands in front of a map, tracing a route over marked points as he speaks in a low, direct voice. “Alright, listen up. We’ve got a solid lead on Kozlov’s next location—a small compound just outside Grozny. Intel says he’s regrouping there with a skeleton crew. This isn’t one of his main bases, so we’re catching him at his most vulnerable.”

He glances around the room, making sure everyone’s focused. “We’re hitting hard and fast. The objective’s simple: we move in, locate Kozlov, and secure him. The area’s got minimal cover, but we’ll use the terrain to our advantage—come in from the east, using the tree line for our approach. Once we’re in, expect close-quarters combat. Kozlov’s men are few, but they’ll be armed to the teeth. Any questions?”

He pauses, scanning each face, his gaze briefly resting on you—a silent reminder of what’s at stake. “If we do this right, we’ll have Kozlov in cuffs by morning.”

As the briefing continues, your mind wanders to what comes next, once you’re out of SAS custody. You know that once this is over, things with Aegis won’t exactly be...friendly. They don’t take lightly to mercenaries who fumble, let alone those who end up in SAS hands. You’ll have to move fast, probably disappear, setting up somewhere under Aegis’s radar. Burn what few bridges you have left and start fresh—they don’t offer second chances to those who ‘compromise’ a job. Now, with the SAS using you as leverage, you’re as good as a loose end in their eyes.

Your gaze shifts back to Ghost, but he doesn’t notice, focused on the mission. To him, you’re just a tool—a temporary means to an end. Fine by me, you think. You just need to get through this. Once you’re free of their watch, it’ll be time to disappear.

As Ghost wraps up the briefing, Captain Price gives him a light tap on the shoulder, acknowledging a solid plan, then dismisses everyone. But Ghost’s gaze locks on you, silently signaling for you to stay behind.

When the others leave, he walks closer, standing tall over you. "What's on your mind?" he asks, his voice low and gruff, betraying none of the suspicion in his eyes. He noticed after all.

He leans forward, his gloved hands resting on the table, his presence imposing. He expects an answer, and he’s not accepting anything less than the truth.

You shift under his gaze, catching the intensity in his eyes. He’s watching too closely, looking for any sign of hesitation.

Your gaze drops to his shoulder, and you keep your tone casual. “It’s nothing,” you say, your expression unreadable. “Just keeping tabs on the mission, same as everyone else.” You shrug, crossing your arms, leaning back as if his scrutiny doesn’t faze you.

But the tension hangs thick, and his eyes stay on you, probing for cracks. He’s expecting something more, but you hold steady, giving him nothing. Just another merc playing the part—for now.

Ghost narrows his eyes, clearly not fooled. "Don’t play games with me. I don’t have the time or patience," he says firmly, a hint of a growl in his voice. "I’ve seen your type before—always thinking they’re smarter than the rest. But I promise you, testing my limits isn’t in your best interest." He leans in, his skull balaclava inches from your face. "I know you’re plotting something. If it’s against us, you’ll regret it." He straightens, his expression hard. Then, turning to leave, he issues his last command.

“Be ready in ten. We’re moving out.” He exits, casting one final, critical glance over his shoulder, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

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The night is thick with tension as you and the team approach the compound, faint lights flickering through the trees. You stick to the shadows, keeping a step ahead, while Ghost’s voice crackles in your ear, the only reminder you’re not alone. “Stay in formation,” he says in a clipped tone. “Just because you’re tagging along doesn’t mean you get to run off and play hero.”

You grit your teeth, ignoring his tone as you press forward. The plan is simple: sweep through, locate Kozlov, and secure him before he slips away. Gunfire erupts as the task force breaches the compound with their backup unit, everyone moving in sync while you keep to the edges, taking down guards with quick, silent strikes. But as the chaos unfolds, you catch sight of something—a narrow back stairwell leading out of the main area.

You slip through, already guessing where Kozlov is likely headed. If I’m right, I can cut him off before he even knows what hit him. You move quickly, your steps silent on the metal stairs, reaching the next floor and rounding a corner—only to nearly collide with Kozlov himself.

The second he sees you, he bolts, diving into the shadows. You raise your weapon, prepared to take him down. Ghost’s voice buzzes through the comms. “Report. Fall back to the main corridor.”

But you don’t listen; your focus is locked on Kozlov. He darts down a hallway, and you’re right on his heels, firing off a few shots that barely miss.

Suddenly, a strong hand clamps down on your shoulder, yanking you back. You spin around to meet Ghost’s glare, his jaw clenched in frustration. “You just couldn’t follow simple orders, could you?” His voice is ice-cold, and the disdain in his eyes is unmistakable.

You shrug off his grip, anger sparking. “If you’d just let me, we’d have Kozlov by now. I know his methods; he was one step ahead of your ‘perfect’ plan.”

“My plan doesn’t involve risking the mission for a mercenary who’s only here because she got caught.” His tone is biting, but before you can fire back, a gunshot echoes from the corridor ahead.

Both of you turn, watching as Kozlov slips through a hidden exit, vanishing into the night. Ghost swears under his breath, casting a look at you that’s a mix of anger and frustration. There’s no time to argue, and you both know it—but as Kozlov escapes, it’s clear Ghost won’t be letting this go anytime soon.

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The tension lingers all the way back to base, thick and unyielding. You can practically feel Ghost’s anger radiating as you step into the debriefing room. He barely waits for the door to close before he rounds on you, voice low and cutting.

“You just couldn’t stick to the bloody plan, could you?” he growls, his gaze cold. “You had one job—follow orders. But instead, you nearly compromised the entire mission. Kozlov slipped because of you.”

You cross your arms, not backing down. “Compromised the mission? I was the only one thinking on my feet. Your ‘perfect plan’ left Kozlov with an escape route I could’ve closed if you’d trusted me.”

“Trusted you?” He barks out a harsh laugh. “You’re here because you got caught, not because we need you. This isn’t a team exercise where you get a say. You don’t belong here—you’re only here out of mercy, and yet you keep acting like you know better than the people who do.”

Your jaw tightens, heat rising. “Unlike you, I’m not here for loyalty points, Ghost. You kept me because I know Kozlov’s methods. But when I try to use that knowledge, you shut me down.”

He steps closer, his voice dropping dangerously. “You think this is some mercenary gig where you’re the only one with skin in the game? Kozlov got away because you decided to act like a lone wolf. End of story.”

Your fists clench as you hold your ground. “Kozlov got away because you’re too caught up in hierarchy to recognize a good call when you see one. Face it, you’d rather let him slip than admit a merc might have a better idea than your so-called Task Force.”

Ghost’s jaw clenches as he glares at you, the air crackling with tension.

“You’re out of line,” he mutters, his voice low and full of warning. “Next time you pull something like that, I won’t bother hauling you back. You’ll be out there on your own—with nothing but Aegis breathing down your neck. Understood?”

You meet his glare, forcing yourself to stay steady. So he knows what fate awaits you after all of this. Of course he does. He's sharp.

“...Clear,” you reply, your voice cold. But you both know neither of you is letting this go.

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The morning drags on, with the wait for fresh intel on Kozlov stretching endlessly. Ghost’s words from last night still echo in your mind—“You’re here because you got caught, not because we need you.” As if you needed the reminder.

Stuck at the base with nowhere to go, you head to the training field. They won’t let you leave the perimeter, not while you're under their watch, so you decide to make use of the open space. You start running laps, each step an outlet for the irritation simmering inside.

The cold air bites, grounding you in the steady rhythm of your breath and the burn in your muscles. At least here, you don’t need anyone’s permission. A few passing soldiers give you curious looks, probably wondering why an “asset” like you is still around. But you push those thoughts aside, focusing on the field.

As you round another lap, you catch sight of Ghost by the railing, arms crossed, watching you with that unreadable gaze. You keep running, refusing to let his presence disrupt your focus. But it’s clear he’s not here just to watch. Eventually, you slow to a jog, then a walk, meeting his gaze with a silent, unspoken challenge.

“Working off last night’s steam?” he asks, tone sharp, as if testing you. There’s a hint of something else there—maybe curiosity, or that familiar Ghost-brand amusement.

You wipe sweat from your forehead, catching your breath. “Something like that. Figured I’d make use of the time since I’m not going anywhere.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Didn’t peg you as the type to sit around waiting for orders.”

You let out a dry laugh. “Not much of a choice, is there? Last time I did things my way, you made it crystal clear why I’m here—to do your dirty work and get out. I’m not wasting energy pretending otherwise.”

His expression hardens slightly. “As long as you’re under our watch, you follow our lead. Whether you like it or not.”

You glance away, jaw tight, staring out at the field. “Trust me, I’m not here for team-building, Ghost. I’m here because it’s the quickest way out of your custody.”

A flicker of something—irritation, maybe—crosses his face, but he holds his gaze steady. “Then don’t make it harder than it needs to be. Kozlov’s all that matters right now.”

You don’t respond, just push past him and keep running. He doesn’t need to say anything else; you both know you’re not about to play the compliant asset. And as long as that’s clear, you’ll do what you have to—your way.

The intel finally comes through a few hours later, and the team assembles in the briefing room. The air is tense, thick with the urgency that always hangs before a mission. Captain Price stands at the front, a holographic map flickering beside him, casting an eerie glow over the room.

He gestures to a marked point on the map. “We’ve got eyes on Kozlov. He’s holed up in a safehouse just outside Nizhny Novgorod. Remote location, minimal personnel—keeping it small to avoid detection. But make no mistake, he’s got backup on call, so we need to be fast and hit hard.”

He pauses, letting it sink in before nodding to Ghost, who steps forward to take over. Ghost navigates through the map. “We’ll split into two teams. Bravo will handle perimeter control, keeping his reinforcements at bay. Alpha goes in through the main entry.” His eyes flick briefly to you, his tone unyielding. “That’s you. You’ll breach with me and clear a path. Once inside, we secure Kozlov. No deviation, no solo heroics. Understood?”

He doesn’t wait for responses, focusing back on the map. “Timing is critical. We’re on a tight window, so the moment we hit the ground, we move. Any questions?”

The room is silent, everyone aware of the stakes. Ghost’s gaze lingers on you a second longer, reinforcing his unspoken warning. This time, you nod curtly, already running through the plan in your head. The sooner this is over, the sooner you’re one step closer to freedom.

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The mission starts smoothly enough. Under cover of darkness, the teams approach Kozlov’s safehouse on foot, moving quickly and keeping low. Bravo team takes position around the perimeter, silently eliminating the sparse guards posted on the outskirts, while Ghost, you, and a few others on Alpha team make your way toward the main entrance.

As planned, you breach the door and slip inside. Ghost signals for you to split up, both of you sweeping the narrow hallways and checking each room. It’s quiet—too quiet, almost like Kozlov is baiting you. Your instincts buzz with a sense that something’s off, but there’s no time to dwell on it.

You clear the first floor quickly, then move up the creaky staircase to the second. Ghost leads the way, moving with controlled urgency. As he rounds a corner toward a reinforced door at the end of the hall, it happens—an explosion. A tripwire, hidden under a loose floorboard, detonates. The blast rips through the hall, sending Ghost flying backward. He slams into the wall, dust and smoke filling the air.

“Ghost!” you shout, ducking for cover, the ringing in your ears nearly deafening. Through the haze, you see him slumped against the wall, struggling to stay conscious, blood trickling down his forehead.

A flicker of movement catches your eye—one of Kozlov’s men, sneaking up behind Ghost with a knife. Your heart races, instincts taking over as you spring forward. Drawing your own blade, you lunge at the attacker, catching him off guard. You manage to twist the knife from his grip before he can strike. With a swift, decisive shove, you send him sprawling, finishing him off with one clean motion.

Breathing hard, you crouch beside Ghost, gripping his shoulder firmly. “You good to move?” you ask, your voice sharp but steady. His eyes clear just enough to focus on you, and he manages a slight nod, though he’s visibly shaken.

He takes a shaky breath, forcing out a half-growl. “Didn’t think… you’d bother.”

You roll your eyes, slipping an arm under his to help him up. “Yeah, well, we’re not done here. Let’s get you out alive first—then we can argue about it.”

With Ghost steadying himself, you both push forward, weaving through the remaining chaos to regroup with the others. The safehouse is cleared shortly after, but Kozlov is nowhere to be found—it was a decoy. Not the outcome you wanted, but you’re both alive.

And, at least for now, Ghost owes you one.

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Back at the base, the adrenaline from the mission has faded, leaving an unsettling quiet in its wake. You step outside, seeking a moment of calm in the cool night air. The stars flicker above, but they do little to soothe the turmoil in your mind. You can’t shake the image of Ghost slumped against the wall, blood trailing down his face.

Leaning against the cold metal of the building, you’re lost in thought when you hear footsteps approaching. You look up to see Ghost walking toward you, his gait slightly uneven, a fresh bandage wrapped around his head. His gaze is sharp, unwavering, all business.

“You should be resting,” you say, trying to keep any lingering irritation from your tone.

He shrugs, a faint, almost mocking smile visible beneath his mask. “Rest doesn’t come easy. Figured I’d check on you after today’s fiasco.”

“Fiasco?” You raise an eyebrow. “You nearly got yourself killed out there, and I had to save your ass.”

“True.” He crosses his arms, something resembling respect flickering in his eyes. “But you acted out of turn. That wasn’t part of the plan.”

“And what was I supposed to do? Watch you get stabbed?” You shake your head. “I’m not just some disposable asset.”

“Right,” he says, his tone hardening. “You’re still a merc, and I’m not sure where you fit in all this. Just curious—what makes you tick?”

You narrow your eyes, thrown by his sudden interest. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, why do you do this? You didn’t get into this line of work for the glory. What’s your story?” He leans against the wall, studying you like he’s trying to piece together a puzzle.

You hesitate, debating how much to let him in. “Does it matter? You don’t see me as anything but a pawn.”

“Maybe.” There’s an edge of sincerity in his voice that surprises you. “But you saved my life today. I’d like to know who I’m working with.”

You cross your arms, defensive but resigned. “Fine. I got into this for survival, for the money. Aegis found me on the fringes, and I’ve been making my way through the chaos ever since.”

He nods, taking in your words. “And what happens when Aegis finds out you’re working with us? Think they’ll just let you walk away?”

You shrug, a bitter laugh slipping out. “If I don’t find a way out soon, I’ll be in deep trouble. But I’m not worried about their opinion. Life’s unpredictable; this is just how things ended up.”

He studies you for a long moment, the weight of his gaze intense. “I know you saved me today, but don’t expect any favors.”

“Trust me, Ghost, I won’t be asking for any,” you reply, a mix of defiance and resolve settling in your voice.

The silence stretches, the night air heavy with unspoken words. You know you’ll have to carve your own path, but this unexpected exchange has shifted something between you. As you look back at the stars, you can’t help but wonder where this uneasy alliance might lead.

⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘ -

Author's Note: my upload schedule will likely be on weekends since I work full-time (rip). some updates might even come a few days earlier if I finish proofreading faster. hopefully, the first chapter has grabbed your attention! if you have any questions, feel free to submit them on my ask box, it’s always open!

[mygnolia]

TURNING YOU INTO A REAL CATCH! PROFILES 1

꩜ .ᐟ 6ft eco-friendly feminists

Y/N .ᐟ bio major but she’s still figuring out what she wants to do :( dating jay eek they seem such a cute couple online

JAY .ᐟ business major who’s started an internship he is READYYY he definitely finished college apps a month before they were due

JUNGWON .ᐟ hybe men’s basketball manager but he also probably manages like 4 other clubs and is going insane by the minute

YUNA .ᐟ save yuna from counselor ron 2024, another bio major but she has a C in bio so…she’s rethinking her major!!! plays volleyball for hhs

CHAEWON .ᐟ hates school. skips as many classes as she can (usually all american government) and comes to volleyball practice because she’s team manager. her and jungwon became friends after complaining a whole bunch about their teams

RYUJIN .ᐟ likes to talk about the socioeconomic state of the world…very opinionated and became friends with y/n because y/n heard ryujin saying that counselor ron was born bald as her hot take #184

masterlist .ᐟ next

REN SAYS.. TRYING A NEW FORMATTTTTTT!!!! i want my smaus to be #aesthetic also i got lazy putting the same effing banner all the time LMAOAOA hope you enjoy!

[steelstreqq]

pov i revive an old project from 2021 because i watched one sorry boys video

this is the 'rustout au', its a combination of TWD, fallout 4, and rust but i shoved silly block men (and ted nivison) in it. essentially its a zombie apocalypse au that takes place at some time in the 80s or 90s following a nuclear fallout that occurred due to undisclosed government activities with foreign global superpowers. none of the normal civilians really know why the nukes went off and only a few of the most wealthy in the community really were able to get down to the bunkers in time

there are a ton of characters i want to include in this au, but considering i made this in the peak of the dsmp fandom i have to be kinda careful to not pick out any ccs who are still a part of dream's posse.. :pensive:

so far, the other characters in this au who aren't displayed here are fundy, techno, philza, bizly, grizly, condi, connor, jack, eret, and a few others i cant think of rn >_<

some character information below ^-^

WILBUR G. SOOT - the widowed father to fundy. wilbur lived in a house in a suburban neighborhood with his teen aged son before the nukes went off. once the initial fallout occurred, will and fundy had an argument about where they should shelter. the day after the argument, wilbur awoke to find fundy had completely disappeared. grief stricken at the loss of another family member (under the impression that he was the reason fundy had 'ran off'), wilbur risked his safety to search for his son, traveling from settlement to settlement. he hated himself and blamed himself for his son's disappearance. by this point, he wanted to lie in the dirt and rot with the corpse of the land below him

TOMMY ZA - the adoptive son of phil, a single child. tommy was at school during the blasts, thus he was separated from his father. he and the rest of his school were ushered to the basement following the explosions to protect them from fallout. when given the all clear, tommy ran down barren streets to find his way home, and never did. too frantic and unable to navigate his way properly, he became stranded and lost. the crushing anxiety of being alone seemed to summon a taller man with a guitar case from a local town. he had found himself wandering into tommy's neighborhood. and therein, an alliance was formed.

"RANBOO" - ranboo is a mysterious creature who doesn't really appreciate questions about his history. tommy and wilbur found him a month or two into constructing their own settlement. ranboo was found uncomfortably asleep in a cramped car not far off from Dome. he was rudely awakened with a violent mugging from tommy. wilbur caught up to the shorter brit and apologized for his actions, suggesting that ranboo could stay at their camp as compensation for the troubles that tommy had brought to ranboo. ranboo reluctantly agreed and now is a part of the dome's settlement. tommy speculates ranboo is secretly a mentally mutated creature-freak-thing and must be put down immediately, ranboo just wants to eat dinner in peace.

CHARLIE SICKLE - charlie is the latest member to join the settlement. the former front man for the hit pop group Roll With You. during an england tour, the nukes went off and front man charlie had been stranded during his burger lunch break. separated from the rest of his band mates. charlie has faced deterioration in his mental state due to the stress of surviving during such a gruesome time period. by the time wilbur finds himself at the receiving end of charlie's gun, he is already unhinged. wilbur manages to talk charlie into submission carefully, and decides to see if he can form a fragile alliance with charlie for some sort of twisted protection. charlie agrees, as he is so *sick* of being alone. charlie simply insists he is just a silly billy, everybody else thinks hes clinically insane

DOME- dome is a passive settlement founded by wilbur soot to bring in local survivors and give them a small and safe community to rebuild humanity. although this is a large goal in such a hostile and dangerous situation, tommy gives wilbur hope to keep going. who knows, maybe while scouting for survivors, they could stumble across phil or fundy

TED - ted is a serial killer, plain and simple. hired by schlatt to be a bodyguard after the fallout, ted had escaped his cinder block hell to essentially be a guard dog thanks to the nukes. it turns out prisons arent explosion-proof. ted is silent, he doesnt speak much, but he has a clear cut focus on what he wants. when he does speak, he talks clearly and normally. mostly, about his travels with his good buddy 'eddie nine pins', whom he apparently did everything with before getting caught

J. SCHLATT - schlatt is a larger than life business mogul, the ceo of a handful of companies that produce clothes, products, music, etc. hes an incredibly creative and intuitive man who knows how to get what he wants. he is the forefront leader of his settlement in the bunker. schlatt is falsely married to quackity, both of them agreeing to commit marriage fraud when they initially entered the world of entrepreneurship as it looks better and improves both of their charisma in social situations. their 'marriage' is entirely superficial and loveless, purely for aesthetics

A. QUACKITY - you might say quackity is a strange last name, he'd tell you to mind your own business and call you poor in two different languages. quackity runs a small 'medicine' dealing business on the surface. in exchange for fancy goods and food, quackity will give out medicine to needy survivors with no real idea of what any of it does. indirectly, quackity has killed 15+ people with his medication and harmed countless others. he doesnt feel bad, as long as he gets something out of it. he's been spoiled by his previously lavish life and just can't stand to let it all go

TOBY "TUBBO" SCHLATT - tubbo is the adoptive son of schlatt. while schlatt opted to adopt tubbo purely for aesthetics, just as he did with his marriage, he ended up getting somewhat attached to the little guy (and so did quackity). adopted at the age of 13, tubbo was quickly exposed to the inside mechanisms of business, the lying and cheating that goes on behind the retina and he has no interest in becoming a mogul like his father. rather, he opts for weapon studies and collecting a massive arsenal of different types of guns and bombs. tubbo sees the fallout as more of a playground than anything, being able to collect and test as many 'toys' as he wants. tubbo and tommy have crossed paths on several occasions, wherein they both will have a bit of a scuffle until theyre tired, then sit and talk. they consider each other friends, and neither of them know of the conflict between schlatt and wilbur

THE BUNKER - the bunker was once a safe haven for the one percent in england, but only a week into shelter, everybody was slaughtered. quackity and schlatt performed a hostile takeover of the bunker for no greater reason than the fact they wanted more space and more liberties. theyve now claimed the entire bunker as their home, and they want to see how far they can expand their power and control.

if youve made it this far, thx so much for reading it means the WORLD to me.. ill be posting abt this au alongside my other projects like claymore hills and the sanatorium au (which also was a 2021 thing!!)

heres a playlist i made for the rustout au if anybody is as interested in music as i am

thanks sm again, likes and reblogs are both appreciated ^-^ asks are open and heavily encouraged if you wanna know more :DD i know dsmpblr is a little dead but maybe mcytblr might like this, u never know if u dont try so ill take shot in the dark ^-^

note: NONE of these characters should be confused with the CCs. they are loosely based off of real interactions and projects but are entirely FICTIONAL in this universe. i do not support the actions of content creators such as dream, george, sapnap, punz, and many others associated with dream thus they will NOT be in this project. thank you.

[macbethsymphony]

The Swordsman and the Blacksmith | Chapter 8

Roronoa Zoro x Reader

Chapter wc: 2.5k

Chapter rating: SFW

Content/Warnings: NSFW, 18+, Fem!Reader, Enemies to lovers, SLOW slow burn, Eventual smut

Summary: Your skills as a blacksmith have made you desirable to both the government and pirates. You know you have to leave this island if you want to escape your fate, but that doesn't make the choice of leaving any easier. Roronoa Zoro is intrigued by your skills as a blacksmith. Your work is like nothing he's ever seen before. Unfortunately, you're hot-headed and he's rude and you both definitely hate each other.

Chapters [1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7]

Masterlist

Slowly crossposting from AO3 Feel like binging the rest of it? it's all there!

Chapter 8: The Burden of a Creator

The soft buzz of the ship filled the infirmary as you lay on the bed, drifting in and out of consciousness. Your body still felt numb, but sensation and control were slowly returning to you. Two days had passed since the incident at the marine base, yet the memories still haunted your dreams, replaying the events over and over like a relentless nightmare.

Each time you woke, disoriented and drenched in sweat, one of the Straw Hat crew members was there, a comforting presence at your side. Whether it was Luffy keeping you entertained with stories of his childhood, or Sanji, trying to coax you into eating a bite or two of the food he’d brought, they never left you alone for long.

Today was no different. As your eyelids fluttered open, you were met with the sight of Robin sitting beside your bed, a book in her hand and a serene expression on her face. Her presence brought you a sense of calm, grounding you in the reality of the ship's familiar surroundings.

"Hey," Robin said softly, setting her book aside as she noticed you stirring. "How are you feeling?"

You managed a weak smile, your voice barely above a whisper. "Better, I think," you replied, your throat dry and scratchy.

Robin reached for the glass of water on the bedside table, holding it to your lips as you took small sips, grateful for the relief it provided. "You've been through a lot," she said, her tone gentle and understanding. "But you're safe now. We won't let anything happen to you."

You nodded, a lump forming in your throat at the reminder of the crew's kindness. You hadn’t been on the ship for long, but they had been by your side through thick and thin, offering their strength and reassurance when you needed it most.

"I'm sorry," you said, your voice barely audible as tears welled up in your eyes. "I didn't mean to put any of you in danger."

Robin reached out, gently wiping away your tears with a comforting touch. "We know," she said, her voice filled with compassion.

Her words brought you comfort but the guilt you felt for failing to control Yokubari was unbearable on your conscience.

“Were there any survivors?” You asked her after a while.

“Not that we know of.” Robin’s response weighed heavily on your heart. The burden of responsibility for the lives lost at the marine base pressed down on you like a suffocating blanket.

“I see.” You turned your back to the woman, closing your eyes in a futile attempt to forget.

“We… The crew survived so it’s not impossible” She added, a reassuring hand on your shoulder.

You didn’t answer.  It was a pointless attempt to give you hope.

When it became clear to Robin that you were not going to respond, she got up with a sigh. You listened as her footsteps carried her towards the exit of the infirmary. She stopped for a while, a hesitant hand on the doorknob. “You did the best you could.” She said voice heavy. “Sometimes, things are beyond our control. You shouldn’t blame yourself for what happened.” Her tone sounded distant, as though she was directing those kind words to someone else.

She opened the door and closed it gently behind her.

She was wrong. Yokubari was your responsibility. Deep down you had known there was the possibility you wouldn’t be able to control it in your weakened state. And yet. Yet, your fear had made you selfish. Selfish enough to endanger those around you. Selfish enough to kill, to take innocent lives away from this world.

You tossed and turned, willing yourself to go to sleep unsuccessfully. This wouldn’t do. With a groan you clumsily sat up. Your eyes landed on the sword at your feet. The blade seemed to beckon to you. With a heavy sigh, you reached for it, running your fingers along the smooth obsidian surface of the scabbard.

“I should throw you in the sea.” You mumbled at the blade.

Silence.

“I swear, you’re nothing but trouble. You’re greedy. You’re stubborn… You’re worse than a cursed blade really.” You reprimanded.

The soft hum emanating from the sword seemed satisfied, proud almost.

“You caused so much pain” you continued, your voice barely above a whisper. “And yet, I can’t bring myself to part with you.”

It was pleased with your words, pleased with itself. You can’t help the anger that filled you at its content hum.

“I should have never created you,” You whispered, your voice tinged with regret. You knew it was pointless, you hadn’t had a choice but to create it. Still, it was a necessary lie you told yourself to keep you sane. “You were supposed to be a tool for good, but all you’ve brought is pain and destruction.”

The sword remained quiet, its cold surface offering no solace or reassurance. It reveled in the chaos it caused, indifferent of the suffering it wrought.

“Having a heart-to-heart with the sword, huh?” Franky chuckled in the doorway, trying to lighten the mood. His brows were furrowed with concern, a sharp contrast with the lightness of his tone.

“An aimless argument I keep having” you said, shooting him a half smile.

Franky pulled up a chair, sitting down beside you. “Look, kid, what happened back there. None of us blame you for it. That sword… Zoro said its got a mind of its own. He didn’t explain much but it ain’t really your fault, is it? What happened that is.”

You stared at Franky, his words slowly sinking in.

“You’re wrong, I knew there was a chance I’d lose control. I gambled with all your lives.” You argued weakly. “Besides, I’m the one who created it. I brought this bastard of a sword into existence.”

Franky leaned forward, his expression earnest. He scratched his head, looking for the words he wanted to say. “Let me tell you something, kiddo. Never be ashamed of what you’ve created.” He started. “No creation is inherently evil. You made that sword with good intentions, right?” He asked.

You nodded.

“That blade, it’s a work of art. I can tell you put a lot of effort and passion into it when you forged it. A sword’s purpose may be to kill, but at the end of the day a weapon is still just a tool. It can be used as much for good than evil.” The cyborg stated, eyes not leaving yours. “What happened back there was an accident. I’m not saying you don’t hold responsibility for what you decide to create but intent matters.

Your eyes left his to look down at the sword clutched in your hands. Your vision was suddenly blurry as thick tears rolled down your cheeks.

You sniffed loudly. “Franky” you uttered between loud sobs, “I’m so sorry” your shoulders shook violently with emotion.

 “Oi, oi, oi, kiddo” Franky’s strong arms enveloped you in a comforting embrace, his voice gentle as he tried to soothe your turmoil.  “No need to apologize.”

Your fists buried themselves in his Hawaiian shirt as you finally let the tension you’d been holding out of your system.

“Is everything alright?” Chopper’s rattled voice rang through the room as he slammed the door open in panic.

“What’s going on?” Sanji appeared next, clearly frazzled. “I heard the sound of a woman’s tears falling.”

You can’t help the chuckle that escaped your lips at the cheesy line from the cook. You let go of the cyborg’s shirt and he passed you the box of tissues next to him.

“Are you alright, (Y/n)? Are you hurt somewhere? Do you need medical attention?” The small reindeer asked in a frenzy.

You blew out your nose loudly. Tears still falling on your cheeks.

“No Chopper” You said with a smile. “I think I’ll be alright!”

“That’s my firecracker!” The cyborg said proudly, giving you a pat on the back before standing up and leaving space for Chopper.

The doctor bustled over instantly, taking your vitals.

“Franky” You called out to the shipwright as he was making his way out. “Thank you.”

He turned back, his trademark grin radiated positivity. “No problem, firecracker! Besides we’re family.” He took a few steps before turning to you again. “By the way, you should join us for dinner if you have the energy. Everyone’s been worried sick over ya and it’ll do you good to get out of here.” He gestured at the small room.

You nodded gratefully, a genuine smile spreading on your face. “I think I’d like that,” you said, feeling a spark of warmth at the thought of being surrounded by your newfound family once more.

“Well, in that case, I better make a feast. We ought to celebrate.” Sanji said following the cyborg out of the infirmary.

“I wasn’t sure if we’d lose you.” Chopper spoke, bringing your attention back to him. “But you’re doing much better now,” he stated with a hint of pride in his voice. “Just make sure to take it easy, okay?”

You nodded. “Thanks, doc”, you said sincerely. “I’ll make sure to listen to your orders.” You shoot him a conspiratorial wink.

The doctor readjusted his hat shyly, happiness and relief clear in his eyes.

The galley was bustling with energy as you entered. The smell of Sanji’s cooking made your stomach grumble loudly.

“Oh! You’re finally out of bed!” Luffy’s voice boomed with enthusiasm, and before you could fully process his words, his palm landed squarely on your back with a force that nearly sent you careening forward. You stumbled a few steps, catching yourself just in time to avoid crashing into the table.

“Whoa there, Captain,” you chuckled, steadying yourself. “Good to see you too.”

Luffy grinned. You let yourself fall down in your chair, not completely trusting your legs yet. You set your sword next to you, unwilling to let it out of your sight just yet.

“How are you feeling, (Y/n)?” Usopp asked, his eyes leaving the slingshot he was tinkering with. The conversations died around you, all awaiting your answer.

“I’ll be alright.” you said. “All thanks to our amazing doctor.”

Chopper looked down shyly at the compliment, muttering something unintelligible under his breath.

Robin smiled warmly from her seat, setting her book down. “We missed your company. It’s good to have you back.”

“That’s right, you had us worried for a second there” Nami added next to you.

Sanji placed plates of food on the table. He hadn’t been lying when he’d said he’d make a feast. You watched as the rest of the crew took their places around the table.

The swordsman lowered himself into the seat across from you, his gaze intense yet guarded. For a moment, it seemed as though he was about to speak, but then he hesitated, his lips pressing together in a firm line as if wrestling with his thoughts.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Zoro broke the silence between the two of you. “Glad to see you’re up” he muttered gruffly under his breath.

“Thanks for bringing back Yokubari” you shot back at him.

He shuffled uncomfortably. “’twas nothing.”

You scoffed. Like hell it was nothing.

The swordsman began to say something else but Sanji interrupted the moment.

"Here you go, (Y/n)," he said with a charming smile, placing a heaping plate of food in front of you. "Made with extra love and care to help you get back on your feet."

You glanced down at the mouthwatering spread before you, feeling a surge of gratitude toward the cook for his kindness. "Thanks, Sanji," you said, offering him a grateful smile. "It looks delicious."

Sanji beamed at your appreciation before turning his attention to the rest of the crew, ensuring that everyone had their fill before he let Luffy dig in. The galley buzzed with conversation and laughter, the atmosphere warm and inviting as the crew shared stories and jokes with one another.

As you dug into your meal, you couldn't help but feel a sense of camaraderie wash over you. Despite the challenges you had faced and the mistakes you had made, you were surrounded by a crew who accepted you for who you were, flaws and all. You’d have to write to Mary about it, she was going to be happy.

Across the table, Nami and Usopp engaged in a spirited debate about the merits of different navigational techniques, their voices rising and falling in animated discussion. You couldn't help but smile at their enthusiasm, grateful for their friendship and the sense of normalcy they brought to your life.

Chopper, his plate piled high with food, chattered excitedly with Robin about a book they were both reading. Robin listened attentively, her quiet wisdom a steady presence amidst the exuberance of the young doctor.

And Luffy, ever the enthusiastic captain, laughed and joked with each member of the crew in turn, his infectious energy lighting up the room and drawing everyone together in a spirit of camaraderie and friendship.

You could feel Zoro’s eye on you as he still clearly battled with something in his mind.

“Well? What is it?” You asked him, tired of waiting.

He wavered for an instant. “Let me hold that sword of yours again.” He demanded.

Your mind struggled to process the meaning of his words. You couldn’t help the incredulous “huh?” that crossed your lips at the man’s idiocy.

Brook stumbled a note on his guitar, stopping the tune he’d been playing. The conversations died around you.

“Let me hold Yokubari” The swordsman demanded again.

“Are you fucking mad?” You screeched.

Zoro’s jaw clenched, he held your gaze, unwilling to back down.

“Are you suicidal or something? It almost fucking killed you!” you scowled at him.

His eye bore into you with a fiery intensity, his words dripping with stubbornness. “I need to check something, let me hold it. I can handle it.”

You both knew that last part was a blatant lie. You shot him an insolent glare. “Oh, look who thinks can handle you, Yokubari, do you agree?” You retorted, tone dripping with sarcasm as you set the sword on the table in a bold display. Your eyes traveled from the blade back to the swordsman in defiance.

His face broke into a familiar sneer. “I can fucking handle it” he reiterated leaning forward.

You scoffed, a smirk playing on your lips. “Oh I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you were the expert on handling my own damned swords,” you shot back, tone dripping with condescension.

“You’re downright insufferable, witch” He shouted at you, standing up brusquely.

“Oh yeah?” Your nostrils flared with anger as you stood up, matching his stance. “Well, you’re just a fucking idiot if you think you can handle it again, swordsman.”

The crew sat back, looking amusedly at the familiar display before them.

Everything was all right after all.

← Previous Chapter | Next Chapter →

Masterlist

[stsgluver]

tags. criminal minds x jjk, eventual gojo x reader, basically just a backstory to drabbles in this au, no plot, overview, some characters are based around criminal minds characters

serial killers were once considered an american phenomenon — a consequence of culture and inadequate socialisation. however, if there is one thing all countries have in common is just that: serial killers.

japan specifically devised a new department to help tackle the growing issue posed by these deranged individuals: jjk. within the jjk, the most notorious unit is the bau — behavioural analysis unit.

ssa yaga masamichi leads as unit chief and has done so for the last decade. he has accumulated almost two decades of experience on the job and, prior to that, worked as a prosecutor. he is considered cold and abrupt to those unfamiliar with him but is deeply admired by his agents for his tenacity and drive to put evil away.

utahime iori is their stubborn technical analyst with a competitive streak. she was recruited by jjk after her father was arrested on significant drug charges and she successfully managed to hack into the criminal database and remove them. her little sister was to be moved into the foster system had she not since she did not have the money to support her. jjk offered utahime a job and then helped to ensure she could take legal guardianship of her little sister. she hates going out on the field and loves her little cave of screens.

ssa shoko ieiri is a former pathologist turned agent. after finishing medical school, she spent two years working as a pathologist when she became involved in a serial killer case. she had been the first to identify a specific signature across three different bodies and alerted local authorities who brought in the bau. for two weeks she spent a lot of time with these agents and, once they left, decided that just determining the cause of death no longer appeased her ambition. she enrolled in the next behavioural study class ran by a former bau agent and within several years made it onto the team. she is cocky by nature and often clashes with the local authorities due to her blasé attitude and blunt words.

ssa (dr) gojo satoru is a genius and he knows it (and he makes sure everyone else does too). with an eidetic memory, there is not much that gets past him. he's arguably the best agent when it comes to speaking to families and interrogation, as he has the widest range of personalities and can quickly switch from bubbly and playful to imposing and serious. little is known to the team about his life before the bau - only that he has several phds to his name (but he hates to be called dr).

ssa ln yn was personally recruited and brought to the team by yaga once you had completed the basic training due to your unique perspective as the daughter of a serial killer. yaga had been on the team for around five years when he'd put your father away for the murder of eight young girls. your mother was dead too which meant that you were forced into the system at only ten years old. he'd maintained contact with you, encouraging you into jjk and then into the bau. you're the most approachable and one of the hardest workers on your team, although you often overcompensate for your unresolved guilt around your father.

not much is known about ssa geto suguru prior to the bau as most of it has been redacted. what is known is that he was enlisted by the government to join task forces and commit acts that the government would deny ever took place. despite how scary he seems on paper, geto is sweet and caring and always puts his team first. he has literally jumped into a burning building for gojo one time after negotiations went wrong.

nanami kento is the communications liaison for the bau. often mistaken for an agent due to his strong build, he in fact hates the idea of being on the field. he dislikes violence and prefers to do whatever he can to help victims and the public by communicating with the unsub through media.

[flamingpudding]

Lost in memories

A/N: personally I am currently hating myself and the writer part of my brain for this. This idea got stuck in my head after I read a couple of amnesiac Danny fics and prompts. I needed to get it out of my head because it occupied to much free estate and distracted me from other things. So with all ideas that bother me like this I write it out. Also I have no idea if I will continue on this or if I will leave it like this that depends on how much free estate it continues to occupies in my head. But here a warning. It's Angsty (?), but if I continue this it will probably be Angst with a happy ending.

Things were good. Danny was happy. After having lost everything before and after many struggles he was happy again, having gained a second family. They weren't replacing his previous family but they helped him fill the emptiness that nearly tore him apart before. They helped him over his grief and hurt as well as protected him from himself and others.

He had more brothers and sisters than before, he even was a big brother now. There was a father figure now also, one that was at least somewhat better at parenting that his father was before but well not perfect with still a bunch of faults Jazz would have loved to analyse. And a grandfather that made the best cookies he had ever eaten before. Best of all they had accepted him the way he was too, even his ghostlyness.

It was also an added bonus that his new family put in the effort to help him have a better schedule and a more regulated life. It came in handy when your entire new family was in the vigilante business and had experience in managing and balancing it. With them he was truly feeling safe and happy now and wished for it to last for as long as possible.

To the Waynes Danny was the baby of the family. Sure he wasn't the youngest, that was still Damian. But Danny was the most open about his feelings and his show of affection from the moment they had saved him and managed to keep him. Alfred wasn't even sure if it was Bruce that had initiated the adoption or if it were the children that did it. After all Jason had stated his brotherly claim on Danny first before Dick AND Damian fought him over it, leaving an opening for Tim and Duke whisking in by having shared interests only for Cass beat them all by gaining his trust first and giving her the favorite sibling spot.

Eitherway Danny had wormed his way into the Wayne family after all the initial struggles and trust issues and became the perfect addition. His way of openly showing how much he loved and cared about his new family quickly stirred the protectiveness the entire bat clan had over him. He might be not as innocent as he appears but to them Danny was the baby.

That was why they were in a close to panic state now.

There had been an oversight on their part. They thought that after dealing with the Anti-Ecto Acts and the disbanding of the Government branch dedicated to hunt beings like Danny that he would be save with them. That there was no danger to him anymore. That he could be free now and do what he wanted, be it a vigilante or life a semi normal life. Sure they knew about the small reminds of these people but, the bats had made sure they never would get even remotely close to Danny.

Jason especially had enjoyed hunting these guys.

Yet somehow a small group of them had managed to evade their attention. They had napped Danny from them. Tim and their ghost boy had been out on a coffee-run they had been discussing on of their latest invention they were working on together. Something that was going to emulate Danny's ice to make it easier to catch certain rogues. Tim had left Danny's side only shortly to get their coffee order but that little time frame had been enough.

At first Tim had thought that his little brother was pulling one of his vanishing pranks on him again. But when Danny didn't reappear no matter how long Tim waited or how much he looked for him, he had grown more and more worried. To the point that he messaged the group chat, alerting all their other siblings.

From there they quickly figured out thanks to the surveillance cameras that Danny got abducted. The fact that the group that took him used tech that Danny personally had shown to them before was the glaring fact that a leftover group was the culprit.

Of course they had instantly gone to rescue their brother. They hadn't forgotten the horrors they had seen before when they had disbanded the original government branch. Even Dick came from Bludhaven to help, knowing the seriousness of the situation.

Yet when they finally got to Danny, it made them feel like they had been too late. Unconscious and a lot of green red blood and wounds placed right where years old scarring was. It had driven Jason into a green haze, something that hadn't happened since Danny had joined the family.

Right now Danny laid unconscious in the medbay. Jason and Cass were with him. The second eldest Wayne had refused to leave Danny's side ever since they had recovered him. Tim wasn't too far away from there either, guilt making him unable to leave. Duke was the one staying next to him for comfort. Damian was pacing by the Batcomputer with Dick trying to help their youngest calming down while Bruce was working on finding if there was anything more they might have overlooked.

A crash in the medbay caused everything to stop. There was only one second of stillness before shouting resounded from there. Making them all rush towards it. But that was what appeared to make the situation worse.

The moment they burst through the door of the medbay they found their brother hovering near the ceiling, staring at them all wide eyed. One hand was clutching the area around his stomach, no doubt having reopened the wounds Alfred had stitched up with that special thread that was only used for Danny, while his other hand was outstretched towards them with a green glow.

"Danny calm down! You're safe!" They heard Dick shout as he tried to get closer but stopped when Jason held an arm out to stop them from getting closer, shaking his head as he glared. It wasn't a glare directed at them but something was clearly making him angry. That was when Damian noticed it, Danny had flinched back at Dick's shout.

He flinched back, from them, looking every bit like he was about to run away.

That was when the rest of them finally saw how Danny watched them with eyes blown wide and filled with fear and panic. But worst of all there was no recognition in his eyes. He looked like one of those affected by fear gas, even though that stuff didn't even work on Danny. He wasn't in a rational state of mind.

"Danny?" Tim carefully asked, he didn't step closer. Doing that right now would most likely trigger their brother even more, he remembered all too well how flighty Danny had been with them in the beginning. He exchanged side glances with his siblings. They needed to calm Danny down before he ripped open even more wounds. They could already see green red stains showing through the shirt Alfred had dressed him in earlier.

"Who…" Danny's voice was barely hearable, cracking even. There was a glass of water by the bedside table prepared for this. But there was no way they could get Danny to drink it right now.

"Who are you people?"

It wasn't often that one simple question could cause so much heartbreak at once. But if your loving brother that has known you for a little over a year or two, the one family member that showed you openly affection and constantly reminded you how much he cared and had come to love you, says it then there was no other way to avoid the pain it caused. None of them showed it but they all felt it the moment Danny finished his sentence.

All the bat siblings had one collective thought as Damian clicked his tongue in an especially frustrated and annoyed way.

I am going to murder these Guy's in White.

[thursdayisbetterthanfriday]

Science Fiction as a Reflection on Society - PLUTO & The Cycle of Hate

MAJOR SPOILER WARNING -You can read this before reading PLUTO but it will spoil many major plot points!

In 2015, I picked up a manga volume in a London bookshop called PLUTO. I had a burgeoning interest in AI, and computer science, at the time and had read Naoki Urasawa's manga Monster many years prior. It seemed a perfect read. Little did I know, it would become my favourite manga.

As I read the first volume I realised this wasn't just a simple Astro Boy adaptation. Like many of Urasawa's stories, PLUTO was a layered story which took its source material and asked fundamental questions about its premise.

The more innocent veneer of the Astro Boy world was stripped away, and echoes of the Middle East, of Afganistan, Iraq and Palestine, were transposed into the background of what was on the surface a simple detective story plot. The long memories, and relentless logic, of robots became a means by which conflict could be examined, but also a way to reveal the weaknesses in the non-empathetic nature of robotics and AI.

Instead of a traditional manga and anime trope of beating the strongest villain against the odds, it became a tragic, yet hopeful, story about the long-tail effects of trauma and how our memories of the past, remembered or misremembered, shape our present.

Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it

From the 1980s Soviet invasion to the modern day US involvement in the Middle East, the trauma of the conflict had lasting impacts on both the invaded countries, and those who invaded. Talented people, who at peace could have done and produced great things, were reduced to administering corrupt governments, fighting occupying forces and wasting their lives on a fractious peace based on subterfuge and realpolitik.

Robot Mont. Blanc, killed in the opening part of PLUTO acts as the introduction of this theme. A deeply environmentalist robot, who was beloved by mountaineers and children alike, was sent to fight in a war whose values conflicted with his own.

Despite his experiences, he went on to live in his old life - tending to and caring for the Swiss Alps and those who lived within them, but was ultimately killed by a mysterious perpetrator.

This theme is carried through with all the "greatest robots on Earth", who are targeted by PLUTO, and who all are trying to make something of their lives after the end of the conflict, most of whom have managed to shake off the negative experiences of their past - while still being haunted by it.

During the gradual decolonization of the colonial powers of Europe in the Middle East, there existed periods in the Middle East of relative calm and stability. People were able to life affluent, and prosperous lives without the threat of violence and revolution - with collaboration between US, European and USSR workers and those who lived there allowing for the construction of infrastructure and advanced manufacturing facilities.

But what about those who can't deal with their past. What about those who are deeply damaged?

PLUTO - The Greatest Trauma on Earth

MAJOR PLOT SPOILER WARNING

So what is PLUTO? Who is PLUTO? He is nothing more than a robot who loves flowers, created by the Persian scientist Dr Abullah. His love for the plant makes him want to plant flowers across the country, to fill it with beauty and richness. He is someone with hopes, and dreams, to make a beautiful world which can be enjoyed by the people who live there.

At least, that's what he used to be.

As the 39th Central Asian Conflict drags on, Dr Abdullah become bitter and resentful at what has happened to his country. A once proud nation reduced to rubble and ruin. Instead of encouraging his robotic son to plant flowers, he fills his son with a vast hatred against those who have committed violence against his people.

The son who wanted nothing more than to make the world a better place is indoctrinated by his father into a being of pure rage, while fully knowing his previous self. The two sides of his personality ripping and tearing at each other in a self-contradictory nightmare.

Just as PLUTO is turned into a loathing monstrosity by his family, upbringing and situation - so too are those who live, fight and die in conflicts. Both the 2023 murder of innocent Israelis by Hamas, and the subsequent murders of innocent Palestinians by Israel have no doubt radicalised a new generation of martyrs, while their leaders - those meant to be inspiring and running the country in their name - directly encourage mass murder on both sides.

In Afghanistan, the hopes of a democratic society were undermined by a corrupt Western imposed system which broke down into Taliban rule in 2022. Collaborators killed or tortured. Women, once again, forced into roles they had broken out of.

But this cuts both ways.

In Afghanistan, both the Soviet invasion of the 1980s and the US/Coalition invasions of the 2000s led to a surge in Western soliders who came home from war angry, disillusioned and in mental and physical pain. Sometime from IED amputations, sometimes from PTSD and severe mental health issues.

Some survived the war, only to transfer their trauma to others at home or to end their own lives at their own hands. A generation of young military lives lost.

The Politics of Hate

Newton's third law states: Each action has an equal, but opposite, reaction. This often occurs socially.

This is ever present in PLUTO with the Anti-robot league. That robots have any rights at all is anathema to these people, who organise a conspiracy to destroy the social fabric of robots in society through targeted assassinations and hatred.

Through their actions, they aim to convert others to their cause and roll back decades of progress in the world of PLUTO.

This occurs in reality just as readily.

The 9/11, 2001 Twin Towers bombings brought together the American people in sorrow, but they also led to the enabling of war.

It didn't matter that Saudi Arabia had allowed Osama Bin Laden to live, and plan, in their country prior to the attacks. It was Afghanistan and Iraq that were targeted on the most spurious of grounds. This was enabled, in part, by swathes of the public who wanted a form of revenge but was mainly supported by neo-cons in government.

The two sides of the coin in Gaza are Hamas, with their backers, and the hard right Israeli government.

Hope

Despite the past, hope and recovery are still possible. This is what the story of North #2 and retired composer Paul Duncan reveals to us. An early inclusion in the manga, it also reveals some of the lighter themes of the work.

Paul Duncan's memories of his childhood, and his perceived Mother's abandonment of him to boarding school and almost terminal illness have coloured his entire life. When we meet him, he is a bitter old man who has a writer's block, and has taken on the ex-military robot North #2 as his butler.

But as the story reveals, Duncan's memories are coloured by his misconceptions of events. As North #2 learns to play the piano, against Duncan's wishes, he reveals the notes of the song that Duncan has been humming from his sleep - a song Duncan's mother used to sing to him as a child. It turns out that Ducan's mother didn't abandon him for a rich husband, but used that husband's wealth to pay for his expensive life-saving treatment and schooling.

It is only by dealing with the past, working through his trauma, that Duncan is able to heal in the present and move on with his life.

Conflict in Northern Ireland existed until the recent past of the late 1990s. This was against a backdrop of centuries of conflict between British settlers and the Irish natives. The Republic of Ireland was created in 1916 - but several Northern Counties remained in British control.

The period between 1916 and the Good Friday Agreement were filled with terrorist action by the IRA against the British Army and the repression of Catholic Irish people in the form of police/army brutality, gerrymandering, discriminatory hiring practices and in other forms.

This was only resolved through dialogue at the highest level between the British Government and Sinn Fein - the political wing of the IRA. It resulted in a peace process which has lasted decades, and has resulted in a generation who can now live, love and work with each other. This required hard decisions, to put past differences and strong emotional ties behind both sides. The results are extraordinary - and offer hope for any conflict.

Conclusions

The best stories I have read take the author's present experience, and insight, and use fiction as a vehicle to explore their themes and ideas. PLUTO takes the historical context of modern world events, and wraps it in an Astro Boy story which tells a story of how trauma, and hate, perpetuate themselves in cycles which come back to haunt and destroy others.

We can learn a lot from such stories. We should learn from them.

It is easy to continue to hate others, and react against clear provocations. It takes courage, bravery and sacrifice to break the cycle and begin anew - to create a new world. A world that Atom represents. A world with a brighter future.

[rozeliyawashereyall]

I fucked around, I found out, and I came out with an AU that wouldn't make the slightest of sense in the actual universe of where the series take place

But do indulge me, cringe AUs are addictively fun to make.

Thanks to @weltthejellyfish , @lightdragon789 , and @astralbulldragon13 for writing like, 98% of everything, would be clueless about my own AU without you 🙏

Anywho chat. Casino AU.

The casino is kind of like?? A haunted house?? Or at least the concept of it. Yeah human owned places are scattered publicly, but halfblood owned ones are in more secluded and secretive places—no human was allowed into said places, only those who are like, an altruist for halfbloods, and even they have very limited access.

Bug getting into the casino would be very difficult, they'd have to first find out where the casino even is, find it and pretend to be an ally and after that slowly work their way up and face some pretty hard challenges

The casino is a family business that was bustling at first but Cercie caught wind of it and started hunting down every family member until it was only bodie left. With only Bodie running the business, he finds a college graduate, Marco, and decides to hire him as a dealer. A few years later and he finds a kid abandoned by his step parents, Timmy, and the rest is history.

•

The descriptions of the three in the drawings:

-​Swamp of Fortune was a family business run by the Willowroots, but after Cercei caught wind of it she started hunting down every family member until it was only Bodie left. Stressed and paranoid about his safety, he closed the casino down and resulted to alcohol for a few years before meeting Marco, a shady college graduate who's determined to help he guy out of his slump. One thing lead to another and now the casino is both getting popular again and is under watch by the government for alleged suspicious practices.

-​Marco Palustris Cydarki dropped out of college after his involvement with dangerous people led to concerns for his safety. While he majored in computer science, his real talent lies in the arts. After dropping out, he found refuge with Bodie, an older man who just happens to own a casino, one that has a history of questionable purchases and suspicious rumors. Marco has been assisting him in various capacities since being taken in. Whether Bodie's influence is protective or manipulative remains to be seen, but Marco has stuck around, likely owing something to his benefactor.

-​Timmy’s life has been a mix of captivity and survival. Born under Cercie Fain’s control, his parents faked his death, cutting off his dragon wings to pass him off as a regular gator half-blood. After being auctioned off, he was raised by Elizabeth Wheat on a half-blood farm until Cercie’s men took him. He later escaped, and found himself stranded and injured in the city, where Bodie found him and became a father figure for the guy. Since then, he's grown into a mini-manager at the casino, following in Bodie’s footsteps as a floor supervisor. Despite being the smallest his presence is larger than life.

•

These little guys personalities are a mix of OG and BM. So more sadistically playful, hence the neutral/hate relationship Marco and Timmy have with bug in this AU. Timmy and Marco probably see Bug as just a new pet, but with them getting more popular around the casino and climbing up— they could turn from a pet to a threat to the two. When it’s revealed that they’re a cop, they probably do some very… thorough interrogation to make sure they are actually on the casino’s side. Then maybe Bug offers to be a Triple Agent. They're lucky Bodie likes them around, I fear they would NOT survive if he didn't enjoy their company, they'd be torn apart if it wasnt for him...he may have used that to his advantage..but Bodie’s just so sweet, they’d never suspect anything..

•

Crimes👍

​Money laundering

​Bootlegging

​Illegal gambling

​Probably murder ngl

​Loan sharking

​Labor racketeering

​stock manipulation

​Tax fraud

•

Stupid stuff:

​They'd only start calling bug, well, bug, because they were caught in their trap, and they have a habit of playing with their food. After they start using Bug as a double agent they start throwing in other nicknames—First it was just bug but then it'd turn into more playful variations of it (IE: Waterbug, Sugarbug, Bedbug, etc) The day Bodie calls them Sugar Bug, they are caught so off guard

​Bodie gifted Bug a pair of butterfly earrings as a welcome gift, only for the earrings to turn out to be a tracking device/listening ddevice.

​Timmy would drink like five cocktails and get black out drunk because they don’t taste like alcohol. Mudslide would be his favorite though. I can picture Marco drinking red wine, he'd would like mulled wine or wassail during winter. Bodie is either whiskey, or bourbon, but during business meetings, they all drink Willowroot family recipe Moonshine

​Bodie still drinks but has cut back. He only drinks half a bottle compared to the two a day he used to drink.

Bug's aim is so fucking bad bro, it's storm trooper level bad

More stupid stuff but timeline version, kinda, idk actually:

-Bug was tasked to locate the casino, gets chased and almost mauled by a halfblood before Bodie intervenes and helps Bug from dying.

- I'd imagine when Bug is recovering and is eager to work to repay Bodie back. He asks Timmy to keep watch of Bug and kind of assesses Bug to see if they could work at the casino and the two talk from there

-Then Bodie and Timmy along with Bug, go out on a walk, talking about taxe evasion, casinos, and mafias, all that fun jazz. But they stumble upon Tony and Sparkie trying to track down any rogue halfbloods. prompt them to relay it to Cercie that Bug found the casino and she sends the hunters to bug, just to tell them to get every secret they can find and report back to them. Which Bug is very hesitant on doing. Not only because they’ve helped them and shown they aren’t the monsters their people painted them as... also because these gator folk could kill them very easily.

Like the end of episode 3 or maybe when Marco comes in with info on Bug (that maybe Bodie asked Marco to do a background check or interrogate Bug idk man) and that’s when they ask Bug to be a double agent

-It’s been a few months (maybe) and Bug is stressing but pulling through being a double agent in relaying info to both sides. But also getting closer to the bois as they treated them slightly better then Cercie and her people did. Which results in Bug confiding in Bodie and being accepted into their lives.

Idk what to do with the rest bro you figure it out.

Last stupid stuff I promise

Okay I'm done now

Yippee @capitalmaudios @magebunkshelf @dayspriteofficial