#the other .. no idea where i stand on that one

[bi-writes]

I’m sooo curious, how did John and his young wife meet if you have an idea?

I read a young price fic where she was his son’s nanny and now I’m curious if you have lore for them too!!!

-anasdump

they are the most obnoxious group of oxygen-stealers you've ever seen, and they're in fucking uniform.

taking up all the bar counter space. hogging the pool tables. throwing the darts so hard, they nearly took out some poor man's eyes. if they laugh and holler and spill one more fucking speck of beer on your leather purse, you're going to wind it up and smack them up the throats with it.

you approach the bar for a refill. you crane your neck as you look for a spot to grab the bartender's attention, but they're all shoving each other and slamming their hands on the wood and getting in the way. you huff, stepping up to a couple of them.

"hey, you need to move. no one can order if you're just gonna take up the whole counter."

the biggest one turns to look at you head-on. you glare a little, motioning with your hand for them to move, but he just leans back against his elbows. he's got the ugliest army haircut, and he wears his dog tags out in front like it's some kind of medal. you doubt he's ever seen anything outside of whatever stupid base he came off of.

"sure, we'll move. but it'll cost ya."

he looks you up and down, and you purse your lips when you meet his eyes.

"no. move over. i'm asking nicely right now."

"oooo," he laughs a little, nudging his friends with his elbows. they laugh, too. "i'm terrified, love."

you decide to just move them yourself. you shove your way between them, but when someone grabs your arm and tugs you backwards, you don't think. you just swing.

your knuckles connect with that asshole's face, and he cries out as he steps backward into his friends.

"don't fucking touch me!"

"you cunt--"

"oh, you did not just fucking call me that, you stupid, brainless piece of shit--!"

"easy," a low voice says behind you. you're almost glad for the interruption. your fist would falter with another punch you think, already bruising around the knuckles.

he's weathered, this new man. you would smell the military on him from a mile away, but he's older in a way that speaks volumes to you. he has the hands of someone that only knows hard labor, and the lines in his face have been warped not by time, but by decisions. he wears a beanie and a scruffy beard, and by the way the other men shuffle in his presence, he must be someone important.

when he steps in front of you, he blocks the view of wandering eyes. you peek around his arm, and every single one of those idiots has their gaze on the floor, and they stand at attention.

"you're an embarrassment to the crown, you lot," he mutters. "supposed to be examples. supposed to enact...some sense of duty in others, and yet all i see are a line of fucking boys that never learned their manners in primary." he laughs, "i mean...to call a lady a cunt?"

you rub your knuckles gently, looking down.

"i expect all of you to report to lieutenant riley at 0600 tomorrow. and your weekend passes are hereby revoked."

the whole pub is a little more relaxed once they're gone. you take a seat at the bar, and the bartender gives you a solemn smile before going to make you another drink.

"i uh..." you stiffen when you hear him behind you. "i want to apologize on behalf of them. tha's no way to treat someone, especially a woman."

"especially a woman," you laugh a little, shaking your head as you pick up the drink set down in front of you. you take a long sip of it, turning to face him. "i can handle myself, thank you very much."

"i can see tha'." he nods to your hand, which looks a little raw. you hide it under the counter, taking another sip of your drink.

"you know, i think you have a lot of other things to worry about," you snap. "like the band of assholes you apparently are in charge of."

"i'm sorry about them," he says again. "you won't see them here or anywhere close to you ever again. tha' i can promise you."

"you listen here--" you turn in your seat to face him, poking his chest with your finger. you try not to think about how your finger doesn't even budge, hitting a thick, pelted chest that has no give. you glare up into those baby blues. they're so bright--gorgeous. your breaths shake, but you steel yourself. he looks anything but afraid of you, no, he looks amused. "you all bring nothing but shit tracking in those boots of yours."

he sniffs, tilting his head to the side. "not a fan of servicemen, are you?"

you laugh, shaking your head.

"i'd spit on you, but even that's too good for you."

he grins. a full-blown smile, and when he leans into your space, you don't move. your finger on his chest flattens, your entire hand pressing there in the middle of his chest.

"i'm john."

you look him up and down. his pretty eyes, the dated but kept beard, the smile lines, the warm and solidness that sits under your hand. he's a teddy bear under that, but you're not fooled. this man isn't like the others--he's wise. experienced. it means he's trigger-happy, and it means he has blood on his hands.

you give him your name anyway, and he repeats it, low enough and close enough that you feel his breath on your face.

"i need another drink," you say, putting a finger on his lips and pushing him backwards. "and you're gonna buy it for me. buy me a few, actually."

john chuckles, taking his jacket off. he drapes it over the back of your chair, and you try to avert your gaze when you see big, burly biceps and coarse hair. his arm stays there, behind you.

"you understand me, john?" you coo, and he smiles big. he nods.

"yes, ma'am."

[bloatedandalone04]

Kiwi

Summary: You’re pregnant with Rafe’s baby, and he’s more stressed out about it than you are (and rightfully so).

Word Count: 1.9k

Warnings: fluff, swearing, protective rafe, soon to be dad rafe, smut, angst if you squint, unprotected sex, pregnancy.

You were steadily entering your second trimester, which was shaping out to be a little easier than your first. You were still craving the weirdest food combinations, but Rafe would never complain about needing to go out and buy them for you since the grateful smile you always gave him made his heart feel so full. 

Seven years with you, and he was still as crazy about you as he’d been since the first date. 

With that being said, he wasn’t sure how much longer he could pretend to like your weird (and sometimes really fucking gross) pregnancy cravings. But he would have to, since you’re carrying his baby like a fucking champ, and you looked so stunning while doing so. 

Rafe had just gotten back from a grocery store run, sporting a bag full of odd food choices for you, and he set it down on the counter before leaving the kitchen to go find you. 

You were in the living room, your feet planted on the couch as you scrolled through your phone. Why you were standing on the couch, he had no idea, but the thought of you accidentally falling was the first thing that flashed through his head, and he was not about to let that happen. 

“What the fuck are you doing?” he rasped, quickly walking over to you and grabbing your waist. “Are you trying to give me a heart attack? You’re four months pregnant, babygirl, you need to be careful. Jesus Christ.”

“I am being careful,” you defended yourself, holding your phone in one hand while your other ran through his hair. You looked around the living room, your eyes flickering between every corner as you stayed standing on the couch. “I saw a spider, and I don’t know where it went. And you know how much I hate spiders. I had to make sure it didn’t crawl on me or something. Then I would’ve been the one having a heart attack.”

You sounded so unserious, but Rafe knew you were being completely genuine. Your fear of anything that had more than two legs was no joke, and he couldn’t count the times he’s killed something for you on both hands. 

“Plus, I’ve only been standing here for, like, five minutes,” you added, looking down at him and shrugging casually, as if you didn’t feel the way his grip tightened on you at your words. 

“Five minutes is too fucking long,” Rafe muttered, shaking his head afterwards as he leaned in and pressed his forehead against your belly. “You’re not thinking straight right now, are you? That’s the only logical explanation for this.”

His big hands stayed planted on your waist, keeping you steady as he pulled away and looked up at you, his blue eyes wide and full of nothing but adoration for you and the little life growing inside of you. 

“You’re going to give me gray hairs, you know that right?” he grunted, a smile forming on his lips when you let out a soft laugh. 

“Ooh, silver fox Rafe,” you teased, draping your arms around his neck as he helped you off the couch. “You say that like it’s a bad thing. You’d look so fucking hot with gray hair, baby. Like, so fucking sexy. So don’t tempt me.”

Rafe scoffed, wrapping his arms around your waist. “Silver fox? I’m twenty nine, baby, not forty,” he mumbled, “But, I guess if you like that sorta thing…who am I to judge?”

You laughed, leaning into his touch as you pressed your lips to his jaw. “I like anything that involves you,”

He smiled down at you, his hand coming up to tuck your hair behind your ear. “I like anything that involves you too, babygirl,” he murmured, leaning down so his lips brushed against yours. “Actually, I love everything that involves you.”

Then he was leaning all the way in and kissing you deeply and slowly, his hands sliding down your body until they grazed your ass, and then he was full on groping you through your leggings. 

You whined against his mouth, your lips pressing more firmly against his as you pulled him impossibly closer to you until your bump was pushing against his abs. “You always have to one up me, don’t you?” you muttered, “And what’s with you always grabbing my ass? You’ve been obsessed with it since we got together.”

Rafe smirked down at you. “Of course I’m obsessed with it, it’s part of you,” he replied, and you pressed your lips together. 

“You are so fucking sweet and sexy and I think we should go to our bedroom before I-” you cut yourself off by screaming directly into your husband’s face as you practically jumped back up onto the couch with wide eyes. 

Rafe didn’t even need to turn around to know that the eight legged creature who scared you before had made its big return. “What did I tell you?” he muttered, taking you into his arms as he lifted you from the couch. 

“Rafe! Stop, it’s literally right there and it’s so fucking big,” you protested as he carried you out of the living room and into the kitchen. Once he had you sitting safely at the breakfast bar, he slid the bag of food over for you to inspect as he grabbed a piece of paper towel. 

“Stay here, okay? Eat something,” he mumbled, pressing a kiss to the top of your head before he walked back into the living room to find the harmless insect that had been tormenting you during the entire time he was gone. 

-

You were pulling Rafe along with you towards the bedroom, your lips all over his neck and jaw, but he was moving so slowly. You were now six months pregnant, and Rafe had become more and more protective of you, if that was even possible at this point. 

And while you loved him for it, his hesitation every time you initiated sex was making you go crazy. You were so turned on, and you needed your husband. 

“Rafe,” you moaned, bracing your hands on his shoulders as you walked backwards. “I need you. I need you so bad. Please? I promise, I won’t break.” you whined, nearly stumbling as you pulled him along with you. 

Rafe’s hands instantly tightened on your waist, his thumbs brushing along the underside of your belly as it pressed against his abs through his shirt. “Easy, babygirl,” he cooed, leaning down to press a soft kiss to your lips. “I’ve got you. I’ve always got you.” 

While you knew he wanted to be gentle and sweet with you, you also knew exactly how to rile him up and get him going. Rafe had been obsessed with your body since the second he first saw you completely bare, and his obsession had only intensified once your body began to change due to your pregnancy. 

You stepped back and pulled your shirt over your head, revealing your breasts that had grown so much, they were nearly spilling out of your bra. You watched Rafe bite his lip before you moved onto your leggings, and you stepped out of them and kicked them aside as well. 

Rafe groaned as he pulled off his own shirt and jeans, his hands finding your waist again as he moved to sit on the bed. “Come here,” he murmured, sliding your panties down your legs before he guided you onto his lap. 

You willingly went, a needy whine leaving your lips as you settled on top of him and pulled down his boxers, freeing his hard cock. “I love you,” you moaned, kissing him as you began to rub yourself along his dick. “I love you so much.”

He gripped your hips, guiding the slow rolls of your body. “I love you too, baby,” he groaned, “More than my next fucking breath.”

His words made your head feel all fuzzy, and he lifted you slightly to position himself at your soaked core. When he eased you back down onto his cock, you both let out a sound of relief as you came together as one, and you reveled in the feeling of his big hands on your body. 

“Fucking perfect,” he praised, his eyes hooded as his hands slid around to grip your ass gently.

You moaned loudly, holding onto his shoulders as you rolled your hips against his as best as you could with your bump persistently brushing against his stomach. “Fuck,” you whimpered, arching your back a bit and making your chest press right up against his. “Oh fuck, Rafe, you feel so good.” 

He felt so good, you were powerless to stop the loud moans from leaving your mouth as you rode him. Rafe’s hands slid up your back and fumbled with the clasp of your bra before he pulled the fabric away from your body, his palms immediately roaming over the newly exposed skin. “Fuck, babygirl, you’re so tight and wet for me. Sweet pussy was made for my cock,” he grunted, rolling your nipples between his fingers until they pebbled under his touch. “You’re so fucking hot.”

Then he was leaning in and kissing you deeply, his tongue brushing against yours as he met your bounces with upward thrusts of his hips. You moaned against his mouth, his words making your body heat up in a blush. You’d never get tired of hearing him say things like that. 

His hands moved to your belly, and he caressed it as he broke the kiss and buried his face against your shoulder. “God, you feel so good,” he moaned, making your blush deepen as you moved a little faster and a bit harder.

“Rafe,” you whimpered, tangling your fingers in his hair as you felt your thighs start to burn from over-exertion. “Oh, fuck…I’m gonna cum.” you warned, feeling the knot that had been steadily building up inside you start to tighten. 

Rafe grunted, reaching in between your bodies until the heel of his hand was pressed firmly against the underside of your belly and his fingers were brushing against your clit. “Yeah, cum for me, baby,” he murmured, his other hand moving to your hip as he guided you to take him a little harder. “I’m close too.”

His fingers pushed you over the edge, and your head fell forward onto his shoulder as you came for him. A cry left your lips as you weakly bounced on his lap, your legs shaking a bit as you pulled on his hair. “Fuck,” you gasped, wrapping your arms tightly around his shoulders as you felt him thrust a few more times before he stilled.

A deep groan left the back of his throat as he held you close to him, his warmth filling you up from the inside out as he let out harsh pants against the side of your neck. “I’ll never get over that,” he muttered, placing soft kisses along your shoulder as he ran his hands up and down your back. “I’ll never get over you.”

You grinned as he gently eased you off him and moved back on the bed, taking you with him as he leaned back against the pillows. “Good,” you hummed as he turned you around and spooned you from behind. “Because I think you’re stuck with me for life.”

When you guided his big palm to rest on your belly, Rafe pressed a gentle kiss to the side of your head as his thumb rubbed along your swollen skin. “Good,” he echoed. “Because you couldn’t get rid of me if you tried. You’re all I want in the world.”

A lazy smile formed on your lips as you snuggled back against him, and only a few seconds later, you had fallen asleep.

-

Not me working on my birthday again...thanks for reading x

[inkedinshadows]

Brooding, Cuddly Shadowsinger

Pairing: Azriel x f!reader

A/N: thank you @pey2618 for this one! It was such a cute idea and I love it! I'm always down bad for soft Az. Note: i just finished writing it (it's 11pm here) after a full day of classes, so forgive me if there are mistakes or typos

Prompts: "You're not so scary after all, are you?" + "You're my new pillow now." + reader and az are out somewhere and he is all broody and scares ppl away but when they are home he is as sweet as a marshmallow

Warnings: none! Just fluff

Word count: 824

The party was going well. For you, at least.

When your friend had told you that you could bring Azriel along, you said you would ask, fully believing he'd decline. Instead, he'd agreed to come with you as soon as you mentioned it.

You were sure he was now regretting that decision.

When you were beside him, everything was fine. His hand was on your knee if you were sitting on the couch, on your back when you stood. But whenever you left his side—to get a drink, to dance, to talk with the other guests—it was like a bubble enveloped him. He became quiet, his brows knitted together, and he looked at people as if they might suddenly turn out to be an enemy he needed to fight. Even his shadows were restless, swirling around his shoulders and wings like a dark tempest, calming only when you joined him again and yet never disappearing completely. The all-black clothes definitely didn't help his case.

You couldn't blame people for avoiding him. And when you passed by two girls on your way back from the toilet, you couldn't help but chuckle as you caught a snippet of their conversation.

“I don't really know how she does it.”

“Well, he's very handsome.”

“Yes, but he's terrifying. Just look at him!”

“Yeah, he kinda is…”

You walked up to Azriel, a smile already on your lips. “You're scaring people off.”

His face softened as soon as he saw you, and he shifted to a more relaxed stance, his shadows settling down. But at your words, he frowned. “I'm not doing anything.”

You crossed your arms and looked him up and down. “You're standing here, just brooding.”

Azriel's gaze swept around the room. Some guests quickly looked away from him.

“Why would that scare people?” he asked when his eyes settled on you again.

“Because you're the big, infamous Shadowsinger?” you replied with a teasing smirk. “The High Lord's Spymaster?”

Azriel rolled his eyes, but his lips curled up at the corners. Before he could say anything, you playfully patted his arm.

“Try not to scare too many people, okay?” you quipped. “I'll be right back.”

His expression fell, and for just a moment, he reminded you of a lost puppy. “Why? Where are you going?”

“To say goodbye to everyone.” You were already stepping away, people parting to let you through after a quick glance at Azriel. “I'm taking you home.”

~~~~~~

Not even an hour later, you were back in your room, ready for the night.

Azriel was already in bed. As soon as you slipped under the covers, his arms wrapped around you and pulled you closer. He rested his head on your chest, right on the soft swell of your breasts, his eyes closed as he let out a content sigh.

You laughed softly. “Are you comfy enough?”

He hummed. “Yes. You're my new pillow now.”

You laughed again, shifting just enough to find a comfortable position without disturbing him. Your fingers tangled in his dark curls, while the other hand came to rest on the nape of his neck.

Azriel melted in your arms as every ounce of lingering tension from the day left his body. His shadows vanished, and his wings splayed out above the sheets, covering you like a second blanket. You swore he purred like a cat when you began gently massaging his scalp.

There he was—the big, infamous Shadowsinger who had terrified everyone at the party just hours earlier.

“You're not so scary after all, are you?” you murmured. “Those people just didn't know you like I do.”

He nuzzled into your chest, his voice already groggy as he mumbled, “No one knows me like you do, love.”

You smiled and kissed the top of his head. “That's right. Just me.”

With another soft sigh, Azriel settled against you. You could feel his warm breath on your skin, his long eyelashes tickling you every time his eyes fluttered.

The party had drained him, despite the fact that he hadn't danced or interacted that much. But being around so many people could be overwhelming for him, especially when in an environment so different from what he was used to. Yet he had still come with you.

“Why did you come to the party?” you asked quietly.

Azriel’s arms tightened around you. “Wanted to be with you,” he mumbled, the words blurring together.

He was adorable. Utterly, sickeningly adorable.

“Go to sleep,” you murmured. “I love you.”

You felt his small smile against your skin as he whispered, “Love you too…”

You continued stroking his hair, holding him close to your heart, right where he belonged.

To others, he might be scary. Terrifying, even. The Shadowsinger, the Spymaster, the one no one truly knew.

But to you, he was this—a sweet, cuddly male who needed the comfort of his mate's embrace.

To you, he was just Az.

Taglist: @mrsjna @navyblue-eternity @paintedbyshadows @highladyandromeda @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @azrielsmate3 @mollygetssherlockcoffee @mirandasidefics @tinystarfishgalaxy @cynthiesjmxazrielslover @anarchiii @readinggeeklmao @anneas11 @azrielslittleslut @lilah-asteria @lorosette @azrielsrealmate @pey2618 @mellowmusings @k8r123-blog @daughterofthemoons-stuff @minnieoo @saltedcoffeescotch @georgiadixon @quiet-because-it-is-a-secret @ivy-34

1k taglist: @onebadassunicorn @thegoddessofnothingness

[goldfades]

sweet on you Joe thanking his wife during his MVP speech when he wins pretty pretty pleaseeeee

omg yes! this idea has been floating around as soon as you sent this ask. hope you enjoy!!! sweet on you will be back i promise, just need the motivation to finish :) and yes in this universe he DID win mvp

MVP SPEECH FT. SWEET ON YOU

The stadium was deafening. Fans roared, confetti rained down in gold and white, and the cameras were all on him—Joe Burrow, the newly crowned MVP, standing under the bright lights, trying to keep himself together.

He ran a hand through his slightly damp hair, exhaling a slow breath as he adjusted the microphone in front of him. The trophy was heavy in his other hand, but it wasn’t the weight of the metal that had his chest tight—it was everything leading up to this moment. The years of hard work, the sacrifices, the unwavering support from those who had been there since the beginning. And more than anyone else, it was her.

Joe cleared his throat, the noise dying down just a fraction as he leaned in. “Man,” he started, shaking his head with a small, breathless laugh. “This is—this is crazy. I don’t even know where to start.”

The crowd cheered again, cameras flashing, but his eyes weren’t searching for them. They were searching for her.

And then he found her.

Sitting in the front row, hands clasped over her mouth, eyes glassy and bright, looking at him like he had just hung the damn moon.

His wife.

His whole world.

Joe swallowed hard, gripping the mic a little tighter. “Obviously, there’s a long list of people I need to thank—my teammates, my coaches, my family. None of this happens without you guys. But, uh—” he huffed out a soft, nervous laugh, shaking his head before glancing at her again. “There’s one person in particular who—God, I don’t even know if I have the words.”

The crowd fell a little quieter, as if they could sense this was something important.

Joe smiled, softer now, and only for her.

“My wife,” he said, voice thick with emotion. “You’ve been with me through everything. Before all of this—before the trophies, before the headlines, before anyone knew my name. You believed in me when I was just some kid with a dream. You stood by me through every high, every low, every doubt I ever had about myself. And somehow, through it all, you loved me.”

She was already crying, shaking her head like she couldn’t believe him, even though she should have known by now just how much he meant every word.

Joe chuckled, rubbing a hand over his jaw as he glanced down at the trophy for a second, then back up at her. “I know I work a lot, and I know there have been nights where football took me away more than it should have. But not once—not once—have you ever made me feel like I was in this alone. And I need you to know—I need everyone to know—that I wouldn’t be standing up here if it weren’t for you.”

A collective aww rippled through the audience, but Joe didn’t even hear it. He was locked in, focused only on her, watching as she wiped at her cheeks, smiling like she wanted to scold him for making her cry in public.

“And Hayes,” he added, his voice hitching just slightly at the mention of their son. “Our boy. I hope one day, when he’s old enough to understand all of this, he knows just how lucky he is to have a mom like you.”

She let out a teary laugh, covering her mouth again, and Joe grinned.

“I love you,” he said simply, his heart in his throat. “More than football. More than anything.”

The crowd erupted in cheers again, but none of it mattered. The only thing that mattered was the way she looked at him in that moment, like he was the greatest thing she had ever seen. Like she had always known he was capable of this, long before he ever did.

And when he stepped down from the stage a few moments later, trophy in one hand, the other reaching for her, she was already there—waiting, arms open, eyes shining, love pouring out of her like a flood.

She kissed him, right there in front of everyone, not caring about the cameras or the eyes on them.

“You’re ridiculous,” she murmured against his lips, laughing softly as she pulled back just enough to look at him.

Joe grinned, pressing his forehead against hers. “Maybe,” he admitted. “But I meant every word.”

And when he kissed her again, the whole world could have disappeared, and he wouldn’t have cared. Because this—she—was his greatest victory of all.

[psychemochanight]

I need a fanfic where fanon!Dick is the perception his brothers have of him, and Dick simply accepts those ideas of him, without trying to prove otherwise.

Tim admires Dick, yes, but he thinks he'd set a computer on fire if he tried to turn it on.

Dick, being the one who helped with almost the entire Watchtower system, who hacks into different Intelligence Services whenever he feels like it, and steals files from the catcomputer whenever he needs something and doesn't want to ask for it, without anyone knowing (not even Tim).

Jason, admitting that Dick is very socially intelligent, but horrible at other types of intelligence, especially math and literature.

Dick, who was a top student who graduated from high school early in advanced classes and only doesn't pursue further college degrees because he is too bored to go to class, plus, he won every math competition he entered and was considered a genius by Bruce, Alfred, and his teachers. (And he read all the books in the mansion since he was little, but he is more fond of classic literature than modern literature).

Damian, thinking Dick is too soft, that he works on hugs and doesn't know how to set boundaries because of how kind he is.

Dick, who can be even more brutal than Bruce when required, who actually prefers his personal space most of the time (he does like physical contact, but not as much as everyone thinks), and that he has not only hurt people because of how strong his words are when he is angry, but he has gotten into fist fights with people to defend his own boundaries.

(He's still the one who knows Dick best tho, yes, he is too nice for his own good sometimes, but he's not stupid either).

And Duke is sure Dick can't cook to save his life because he always sees him eating cereal or just simple food.

Dick knows how to cook perfectly, he just likes simple food more and cereal is mostly because it is his comfort food and his need for sugar to keep going.

Not to mention everyone thinks he's a playboy, heartbreaker and all that.

No, (actually Tim had more partners than him, lol), and Dick is quite a demisexual, romantic person, who feels sick whenever something ends in a one night stand, because he feels that those things should be done with someone he loves. Plus, he really doesn't even like people complimenting him on his looks; even though everyone thinks he enjoys the attention, which is why his brothers send him thirst trap type videos made by his fans (both Nightwing and Dick Grayson's).

Girls actually believe some of these things too, but not to the extent that boys do.

It can also play on the fact that other people rather think that Dick has anger issues and is completely violent, or thinking that he was Bruce's nightmare when he was a child.

Extra points if it has a mention that he's the one who's actually addicted to coffee and insomniac, lmao.

[empress-ghoul]

You’ve gotten good at getting a sense for these sorts of things. A feeling in your chest, a twist in your gut, a sixth sense, if you will. You think you’d prefer your sixth sense to be seeing ghosts, rather than sensing when creepy men are going to approach you.

You just wanted a drink. It had been a long fucking day at work and you just wanted a drink without worrying about actually talking to people. That was why you sat at the end of the bar.

Maybe you should have just bought a bottle of wine on the way home. Your sixth sense had told you that going into the bar was a bad idea. At least then this guy wouldn’t be talking to you.

He was attractive at least, but you couldn’t be in less of a mood and he was practically sitting on top of you.

“Rough day?” he asked.

Your eye nearly twitched. “Something like that.”

“Yeah,” he scoffed. “I can tell.”

And he was rude. Cherry on top.

You rolled your eyes and shot him a glare, your lip curling slightly into a snarl. “Yeah,” you mimic. “You don’t look too hot either, asshole.”

Cash is handed to the bartender and you reach for your bag. He beats you to it, gripping the strap in an iron hold. Indignation rises. Part of you wants to wrestle it back, but the other part knows you’d just end up embarrassing yourself.

“We got off on the wrong foot,” he begins. “I’m Johnny—“

“I’m not interested. Bag. Now.”

You hold your hand out, but something tells you he’s not the type to listen.

That feeling is confirmed when he laughs. Yet another cherry on top.

“How about this; I buy you a drink and you get your bag back after?”

There’s a beat of silence where you nearly laugh. Was he serious? You’re about to ask him when he’s suddenly ordering for you and holding your bag in his lap.

You had to bargain with your tired mind, telling yourself that you were getting a free drink out of this. Frustrated, yet resigned, you sit back down.

He grins at you and your sixth sense prickles the back of your neck.

Johnny was good at talking and part of you almost felt bad. He seemed lonely. You were certain only a lonely, mildly insane person would steal a purse and buy the purse owner a drink just to have someone to talk to.

But you were lonely too. Only a lonely, mildly insane person would let him buy more drinks after getting their purse back.

You barely noticed the hand on your thigh. By the time you did, he was right in your face.

“Bonnie thing, aren’t you?” he purred.

That’s how you ended up getting tugged back to his apartment. He kept an arm around your waist and your bag in his hand the entire walk. Right outside the door, when his hand was on the doorknob, you realized how bad of an idea this was.

One night stands weren’t exactly your thing, especially not on a weeknight. You had a little bit of dignity, after all.

Plus, your sixth sense practically vibrated in your chest to tell you to turn and run. But suddenly the door was open and he was pushing you inside.

The door shut and locked behind you both, and suddenly you were standing in front of a wall of a man. Your throat tightened when you felt Johnny’s arms around your waist, trapping you in place.

“What’d you think, LT?” Johnny asked, squeezing you tighter.

He sounded so eager, so hopefully.

You stared up at the man in front of you. He looked…bored? Almost uninterested. Similar to a wolf who caught a meal too easily.

Despite being tipsy on the walk from the bar to here, you were suddenly stone cold sober and frozen in place.

A massive hand gripped your jaw, tilting your head up. A calloused thumb brushed over your bottom lip, yet you couldn’t find it in yourself to scream. Only tremble as Johnny rubbed a stubbly cheek against your soft one.

“This the one you told me ‘bout?” the enormous man asked.

Something hard pressed against the fat of your ass as Johnny smiled. “Yeah, the one from the train,” he preened, clearly proud of himself. “Can we keep her?”

Maybe you should have just bought a bottle of wine on the way home.

[running-with-kn1ves]

Your Private Dancer

A/N: Everybody say thank you Tina Turner; man I really am just a mixture of everything I’ve seen and heard. 

CW: Dancing for money, sex work/ prostitution mentioned, using money as manipulation, Reader wears makeup n' heels lmao

Synopsis: You work at the downtown peep show dancing for quarters, trying to get out of the rough patch you’ve fallen into. Seemingly, a man out of your usual customer regulars has business with you.

Tonight, a habitual fear bobbed its way inside your head, just as it had the night before. The idea of your boss’s beige, neatly ironed trousers becoming ever-so visible from under the slowly rising black curtains was making an appearance, his aged face slick with sweat, with desire behind the see-through plastic shield.

Again, the same scene but with a distant friend on the other side of the decaying plastic that separated you from your… clients. They’d be popping in the coins you worked for-- mere quarters, often giving you barely enough to buy a drink for the night.

This line of work could be greedy, could sap all energy and self-worth you had-- but for some, it had led to better lives; ones where they could purchase groceries for their kids or nice handbags if they decided to skimp out on dinner that week. 

Never you, though. How long has it been since you started working at the peep show, two months? You barely made enough to cover rent, and that was primarily paid for by your office job handling phones and directing clients to your bulging boss’s office. 

Taking a swig of some bottom shelf vodka you so sneakily hid into a mug, you drank the thoughts away, waiting patiently for the electric blue lights to come on. If you had any less self respect, you’d dare to sit on the yellow tile beneath your studded heels, legs aching from standing ten til’ two waiting for some man or another off the street to feed your coin box something of substance. You prayed for whoever came next-- if anyone-- they wouldn’t try to shove another piece of gum or arcade coin in as a cheap ploy. You thought they did it more to fuck with you and get a free show than a true lack of being able to pay for their lust. 

On the brink of lighting an unused cigarette left next to your mug, the lights of your five-by-five room soon became illuminated by the cobalt blue lights of the client room across from you. Velvet curtains rose to show a pair of black slacks, left knee impatiently bouncing. The blue never bathed the entirety of your small room; it was just an illusion for the paying customer, making everything in front of them turn an electric shade that used to burn your eyes; now, you wished you were doused in that blue, instead of witnessing the yellow stains on the walls beside the see-through window, the dirty circles formed on the green walls from put-out cigarette butts. 

The curtains rose to his neck, and you knew it was time to start dancing. You were by no means a professional-- hell, you never moved this much unless it was in this room. But you were pretty good at making yourself consumable, as if the men on the other side could have you-- could taste the way your hips gyrated and how you grabbed at your chest, stroking and fondling yourself in a desperate attempt to keep the money coming. For some of those who worked the peep show, it was liberating; no man could touch them, and they could rake in all the money they’d need. For you-- it was just a step above demeaning yourself to being touched.

You started slow-- sensual. He was looking at you, of course-- but he hadn’t even gotten his pants down yet. You rarely get these kinds of men, the ones who just liked to stare, maybe smoke a cigarette and put the rest of their quarters in their pockets to leave with a frown of boredom.

You let your hands rise from your hips, gracefully dancing up your stomach, to your chest. You circle around your shapes of hard and soft, letting each curve flow beneath your fingers as if it were his hands touching you. 

You hadn’t gotten a good look at the man, watching him from the corner of your blurry eyes as he brought a hand to his mouth. He stroked his jaw before bringing the cigarette between his fingers to his lips. He scrutinized, a small line creasing under his eye as his gaze traveled the intimate way you swayed your hips. 

He occasionally took a drink from an engraved scotch glass saved for VIP members, those who made monthly payments in cash that the owner hoarded in his liquor cabinet. Not many paid such a hefty price unless they routinely took clients or coworkers here-- and even then, the existence of powerful businessmen in such a grimy part of the city like this, with a less than clean business-- was so rare you were suspicious. 

But your suspicions were buried as soon as he left your dancing cell, your mind quick to focus on electric bills and the next few nights of eating dry pasta and watching bad reality TV, slaving away at the office and more early mornings at the peep show. It almost didn’t surprise you to see him at your dance room again a few days later-- until he started showing up multiple times a week. Like clockwork at 11:02, he was sitting across from you with a cigarette or an indulgent glass. Sometimes, he’d merely watch. You had a few regulars, but none like him… not ‘this’ regular.

Even with keeping your eyes glued on your own reflection, you’d catch the dark blacks of his own trained on you, his face bathed in blue and zoned in on your expression. He never unbuttoned his pants, never lingered his eyes on one area for too long, even if he scanned you up and down with a sultriness.

You couldn’t deny that you felt like you needed to impress him, to make him react or find a reason to keep seeing you; he was allowing you to afford paying rent, putting coins in to last for a 30-minute session before he’d disappear into the night. But you never spoke to him, never had any kind of interaction besides that unspoken ritual. 

Another month at the peep show passed, and you found yourself fixing up your makeup in the vanity, trying desperately to get a thick layer of eyeliner right. A thick knock rapped against the dressing room door, a foreign sound; none of the workers knocked, finding no reason to. Your boss stuck his head through the gap, his receding hairline shiny and his thin silver chain looking  dull from the overhead light. For such a sleaze, he was kinder than most when it came to treating his employees fairly. Maybe because he was keen on avoiding complaints and federal eyes. 

“Got a visitor for ya.” He chewed a thick wad of gum, talking in a voice lower than you had ever heard him speak in. “This one’s a big fish, alright? Don’t do anything to piss him off-- he’s the reason you’re getting such a good payout tonight.”

Payout? You didn’t get paid in anything other than quarters once the night ended, unless someone was looking for further services of which you were not interested in providing. 

Your boss leaves the door open a crack, his mumbles traveling in as he spoke to someone outside. The door was knocked on again, but no one came in.

“It’s open.” You say, a little thrown off by the way your voice cracks a pitch higher. 

The door opens fully, closing behind the stranger as he moves forward. You look in the mirror to see him, but are forced to turn around to believe your eyes. 

“It’s you.” 

You look at him-- nice suit, pressed and finely tailored, with even a small handkerchief in its breast pocket.

His hair isn't dark like you had imagined under the blue light, but rather a gold brown, deep and cool-toned. For being so young, he had deep creases below his eyes, as if he had been worried since birth.

“I’ve paid for your shift tonight. “ He stares at you, direct but with some underlying, concerned thought. “Your manager says there’s a room upstairs, where we can be alone-- privately.”

You’re disgusted by the mention of anything above the underground cells you’ve danced in, recalling the thin walls of faked moans and foul dialogue you’d tried to avoid. 

“I’m not a prostitute,” You say brusquely, watching the stoicism on his expression falter. “You can have your money back, I don’t want it if that’s what you’re expecting.”

“I’m not.” He says, sounding a bit off guard and adjusting his tie almost habitually. “I want.. To talk, If you can believe that,” His hard gaze shifts to minute worry, as if this wasn’t how he expected it to go. “This isn’t… I want to help.”

You’re more so puzzled than offended now, staring at the pool of his ink-like eyes, no traceable ounce of debauchery behind them. If you said no, it almost seems like he wouldn’t care less, besides for another crease layered under his eye. 

“What for?” You question, guarded and fiddling with your absurdly short low-rise shorts; the discomfort was part of the appeal, supposedly. 

“I have a proposition for you-- a deal. You don’t have to accept it, of course. Just listen to what I have to say.” 

He lifts his eyebrows, trying to gauge your reaction, your potential interest. You continue to squint at him, realizing now you were near past the start of your shift; You were losing money as you sat here. 

“Maybe this will convince you; I already let your manager know not to bother us.”

 Like a true businessman, he rummages through the inner pockets of his suit in an attempt to find something hidden. Finally reaching into the left side he pulls out a thin, blank envelope. 

With two hands, he brings the envelope towards you with unnecessary formality, and you waste no time taking it. Besides overdue bills and unpaid bank statements, you rarely opened any other kind of unmarked envelope.

It wasn’t even closed when you tried to open it, the top un-licked and sticky. You looked inside, not needing to take out the content to understand what was in it. Several fifties were lined against each other, scarce in their numbers but large in what they equaled together. 

“What… is this for?” The shock you gave with your agape mouth almost made him grin a bit, fascinated. He rarely felt pleasure in the wide-eyed stare his clients would give him at the same sight, but you weren’t them. Oh no, you were far from them. 

“Just a talk. I can pay you more afterwards.”

Your gut senses danger-- perhaps he took pleasure in luring unsuspecting victims from low places with money, killing them for sport. But, he looked too clean-- too unmotivated.

You should say no, should turn away and finish putting on your makeup and tell him you aren’t looking for a pimp. 

You pocket the money, crumpling the envelope and putting it on your vanity. 

“I don’t do anything under the clothes; I can give you a lap dance at most and that’s it.”

You lead the man out of the dressing room, not bothering to close the door. 

He leads the way upstairs, watching the grimy pictures decorating the walls with feigned interest, some in black and white, others grainy and full of half-naked women. You kind of wish you had led the way now; atleast then you wouldn’t feel like you’re following an omen to your doom, farther deep into the velvet hallway.

“My name is Dakota.” He utters, quiet and firm. 

You brush past him, getting in front to open the door at the beginning of the hall. “What, no last name?”

 You still wonder if you should turn back, even if it means losing your job. But you persevere, holding a dramatic hand towards the now opened room as if you were a doorman.

“I imagine you aren’t interested in my last name,” He stops to take a short view of the client room before settling his eyes back on you. “And regardless, I’d much rather know yours.”

You open your mouth to speak, but are quick to be cut off as he walks past you into the creaky, red-pink room.

“I know you won’t tell me, a part of the show-room code, or so I’m told. but it doesn’t matter; I already know.” 

He reads your mind again as you barely get a moment to protest.

“I’m accustomed to going through unnatural ways to find the information that I need, but don’t bother asking for why or how, I won’t tell you.”

Your body tenses as you shut the door behind you, the red lowlights of the bedroom making your heart pound just a little louder.

“You can’t just say something like that and not expect me to want to know-- it's my privacy damn it,” You’ve forfeited any sexy walking as you come closer. “If you’re some kind of creepy stalker--”

“I guess I could be labeled as that.” Dakota slumps to sit on the edge of the bed, sinking into the dipping mattress. He almost relaxes, shoulders drooping along with his eyes, uncharacteristically so.

“I’ve come here to offer you a chance for safety,” He loosens his tie, watching as you stand there, tensing your back and one step directed toward the door. 

Dakota wasn’t blind to your hesitation, your unease. But you were wrong to think he’d let you go just because of a little fear; you had a lot to learn about him.

You watch him look at you, waiting expectantly for him to go on. But he doesn’t and you realize he’s waiting for you to start-- to do something of which he paid copious amounts of cash for. So, you do what you do best, and what you feel safest doing, where no man can touch or stroke you.

It’s not as extravagant of a dance as when you’re in the coin-operated cell, but it's intimate enough. 

You keep your eyes to the floor, only looking up at Dakota to egg him on, letting your feet drift you in a rhythm. He looks entranced for a moment, offering a stare that was far from innocent-- but not as hungrily disturbing as you had expected. 

“Your co-workers won’t be given the same option, this is an opportunity directed at and intended only for you.” You come closer, small struts as Dakota completely unties his tie. “I’ve got a variety of apartments across the city, most of which are rented out or used as a small place to come back to when I've got business farther out. And no-- I won’t tell you what kind of business I do.” 

You almost grunt in frustration, keeping your eyes on him. 

You’re nearly toe to toe with him now, watching from above as he puts his hands back on the bed. 

“One of these apartments is not too far from here,” He squints his eyes, deliberating. “A few blocks away, I'd say.” 

Your hands slow as you drop them to the front of your hips, Dakota’s eyes following them. 

“It can be yours. If you’d like.” 

“What?”

You stop, dropping your arms and watching the pink glow from under the bed cast a shadow up to Dakota’s cheeks.

“Some people call this kind of an arrangement “sugar babying” but that’s a bit too crude for my tastes.” His eyes are still traveling from your wrist to your forearm. “You’ll be on an allowance, of course. But it means you won’t have to work here anymore.”

The way he said ‘here’, it was clear what he thought of it.

“You can quit that desk job too; or keep it, if you want. But I can’t imagine it being much fun. Either way, you won’t be working here anymore. Not with the kind of men who are looking at you while I’m away.”  

Dakota’s gaze finally met your own, his tired hand coming up to stroke his curved jaw. 

“You’re not actually being serious, are you? This is some kind of sick joke?” You let out a short laugh, lacking in humor. 

Even with him dressed to the nines in a suit that no creature who stepped foot in this place could afford, you wouldn’t allow yourself to believe it. You shake your head in ridiculousness, taking a step back.

“Sorry, I have other customers to attend to; I can’t be dealing with this shit right now.” 

You turn to walk away, feeling less safe than you ever had; if he was delusional, or some kind of sick sadist who thought he could buy your life-- he had another thing coming.

“Hold on,” Dakota grabs at your fingers, almost desperate in his grasp. His eyes were void of anything other than concern. “I’ve booked you for the whole night, I don’t recall asking for you to leave.”

Booked? You were under the impression you just received a little extra bonus from this stranger. Just how much were your manager’s morals worth? Did he care AT ALL what he might’ve ‘sold’ you for?

Dakota held on, even with you hesitantly shuffling back to where you stood. 

“You don’t have to accept what I’m offering-- just consider it,” He stays seated, bringing your hand palm-up towards him. “Though, I’ve been told I'm quite persuasive.”

“Look man, whatever you’re selling, I'm not buying. I’ll have you know I’m perfectly content with my job, and I’m not looking for some kind of ‘savior’ if that’s what you’re trying to be.”

You could feel your own lie cutting deep into you, and by the looks of it Dakota didn’t believe it either. He looked at you, a kind of benign glare leaving from his oaky eyes. 

“Call me by my name.” He says, barely above a whisper.

“...Huh?” 

“I’m not just some ‘man’. Call me by my name.”

Dakota ran his thumb down your palm to your middle finger, keeping your hand hostage between both of his own. He looked to you, then back down to his grasped treasure. He looked like he didn’t really know what to do with it, but that it was something intimate he didn’t want to let go of. 

“Wha--okay fine. Dakota. This isn’t some kind of game,” The name felt weird coming out of your mouth, but watching who it belonged to’s reaction was even stranger. 

He shivered. Physically shivered at the guttural hearing of his name, of the consonants and vowels sliding off your tongue. 

Dakota looked down, avoiding your gaze as he memorized each line and indent in your fingers. You wanted to pull your hand away, to recoil in disgust and fling him off like some kind of bug. But in a way, he looked small sitting there, head down and entranced at the details of your fingers, the ridges of your palms, the shaking pulling at his shoulders as he asked you to say his name again. 

“Dakota.” You mutter, wondering if this was some kind of kink.

With the way he stopped a groan midway from slipping, you were sure you weren’t too far off. But whatever he was into, now was not the time for discovery.

“This is, just ridiculous. Were you listening to me, at all?” You tilt your head, trying to catch his eyes to see if you could see what the hell he was so captivated by.

His thumb pressed hard against your palm, short nail digging just slightly to leave a crescent shape. 

Without the response, you were starting to get fed up. You pulled your hand away, sliding smoothly out of his warm, dry grasp. 

At this, his head shot up, watching you with a kind of look as if he had come from out of a panicked daze.

“I’ve wondered what my name would sound like from your mouth-- I could never hear anything from the other side of the glass.” 

“...Right.” You aren’t sure if you should still be worried, but his fascination with you made you feel a little concerned. 

Dakota propped himself up again, seemingly realizing his recent lack of finesse. 

“Take my business card.” He seemed to say all of a sudden, searching blindly in his inner-jacket pockets like he did to give you your payment for the night. He seemed a little scattered, padding up and down to look for his cards before finding one in his breast pocket. “Here.”

You grab it, finally getting an inkling of answers to who he was besides the money and his name. 

Unfortunately for you, the card didn’t offer much else from what you already knew. There was his name in ink-black font, ‘DAKOTA--VERIDIAN FIRMS’ and a small phone number, barely readable beneath. 

“That’s my personal number. Day or night, don’t hesitate to call. I’ll answer.” He looks at you with an inappropriate level of intensity.

“Okay.” 

“Now that that’s squared away--” He sighs, relaxing backwards again, watching you hold the business card. “We can return to business as usual;” He keeps his eyes on yours, displaying a kind of tension and expectation. “I believe you were dancing, and I was enjoying your company.” 

You can’t imagine spending the rest of your shift solely dancing for one man, in this dreary far-too cold room that had seen too much. You don’t move, not ready for the rest of tonight to continue.

Dakota brings out another small envelope, this time with ease. Looking at it expectantly, he then looks back to you. 

You began to move your shoulders to the rhythm of the thumping music from downstairs, using it as a way to distract your thoughts. Dakota puts the envelope on the bed, letting out a sigh as he voyeured in novelty, watching you gaze at the heart-shaped headboard behind him. 

You tried to keep your thoughts empty, but it was near impossible. How much could you be bought for, and how much more would it take for you to agree to be his? 

[gold-onthe-inside]

debriefing

v. def. the systematic questioning of individuals to procure information to answer specific collection requirements by direct and indirect questioning techniques.

who? spencer reid (s7) x analyst!reader summary: the one where you finally confront the thing between you and spencer content warnings: none word count: 2.5k

You couldn’t sleep, restlessly turning in bed as flashes of Spencer torment you - vaguely remembering his hand on your ankle as he slid your heels off, kneeling in front of you with his hands grasping yours, his firm grip on your arm, his hand on your lower back, guiding you downstairs. “The team knows that my priority is you.”

You feel like a teenager trying to decipher whether a boy likes you. More importantly, you have to go back to work in 5 hours, and if he doesn’t like you the way you think he does, then there’s no point losing sleep over it. A wave of frustration washes over you, stuffing a pillow in your face as if that could remove the imprint Spencer’s made on your brain.

The pillow falls to the side, leaving you staring at the ceiling with a desire to kill or kiss Spencer, and since neither of those were options to you, you did the next best thing. You knocked on the partition between Penelope’s room and the living room. She had dragged you through Lord knew how many thrift stores and flea markets to put together this magical room that was a cross between Turkish royalty and California in the 60s. The woman, your best friend, bless her heart, woke up with a slight grumble, pushing the unicorn kitty eye mask up (apparently it reduced dark circles, and seeing as she didn’t have any while you were left to suffer, it must work) to attend to your distress.

“Honey, it’s 2 in the morning, can we talk about this in daylight?” Penelope asked, her saccharine voice a soft rumble in her sleep.

“It’s about Reid,” you said, hearing how pathetic you sounded, standing on the step to the raised platform that led to her bedroom. But it seemed to perk her up, and she got up faster than you’ve ever seen her wake in the 10 years you’ve known her.

“I’ll put on a pot of tea,” she announced, moving to the kitchen.

“I-I don’t need tea,” you said uselessly to the whirlwind you called your roommate, trudging across the floor to the kitchen.

“Do you even remember the last time you came to me with boy problems?” Penelope asked you, grabbing her teapot and dropping bags of masala chai in it before setting it to boil on the stove while you parse through your memory, coming up empty. “That’s right. Never. Not once in the entire history of our friendship have you ever come to me about a boy,” Penelope continued and you sink into a seat on the bar stool.

“Because there’s never been anyone worth talking about,” you replied, rubbing your face. “God, how did I let this happen?”

“Let what happen?” Penelope asked, sitting next to you.

“This,” you said, gesturing vaguely. “I don’t lose sleep over guys, and it’s like Spencer just… snuck up on me and now he just lives in my brain or something.”

“Is that such a bad thing?”

“Yes, it’s horrible and embarrassing and—”

“You really like him,” Penelope finished for you, watching your hands fall to the kitchen island.

“I really like him,” you admitted, letting out a disgruntled sigh as you dropped your head into your hands.

“Sweetie, it’s okay,” Penelope assured you, trying not to laugh as she rubbed your back. “And for what it’s worth, he’s a really good guy. A little nuts, but a really good guy.”

“He’s not nuts,” you muttered and Penelope really wants to laugh. The idea of you defending a boy from Penelope’s words was such a far stretch from who you were as a person…

“He also really likes you,” Penelope told you, tilting her head to try and find your eyes. “Seriously, he was hounding me the other day asking if you were into that Jack Ryan-esque new guy or not.”

“He was hounding you?” you asked, looking up with a skeptical brow.

“As in took up residence in my office until I gave it up,” Penelope clarified and you sighed, rubbing the back of your neck as the teapot whistled. You watched as Penelope poured you a cup of tea with a little milk, just the way you like it.

“What if it doesn’t work out?” you asked, taking the cup and slowly spinning it as you waited for it to cool. “I don’t want to have to avoid him forever. Or put you in a weird position with me and him.”

“What if it does work out and you fall in love and have adorable genius babies?” Penelope countered, making you furrow your brow.

“That sounds so much scarier,” you muttered and she sighed.

“Look, sweetie, as much as it pains me to admit it, he makes you the happiest I’ve ever seen you,” Penelope told you. “Seriously, I have video footage.”

“Delete it,” you tell her immediately, putting on your most serious face, but after 10 years, she’s grown immune.

“You’ll never find it,” she sings, sipping her tea. You suck your cheek in, staring at your tea.

“So… what, I just… tell him?” you asked and you looked so clueless that Penelope had to giggle just a little. “Don’t laugh.”

“I swear to God, you two are so meant for each other, it’s written in the stars,” Penelope said, laughing. “Yes, baby doll, you tell him. Because Lord knows he’s not gonna tell you. He’s been dancing around his feelings so long, he could be Kevin Bacon in Footloose.”

“But I don’t want to,” you protested childishly. “Can’t I just ignore it?”

“Not if you want to sleep at night,” Penelope said, tucking a stray hair behind your ear and you pursed your lips.

“I hate this.”

“Yeah, that’s what being in love is,” she replied. “Welcome, it sucks.” You hummed, disgruntled, and sipped your tea.

You’re close to clocking out for the day when Penelope’s heels clack against linoleum, rapidly approaching your cubicle. “The time is now,” she hissed and you frowned immediately, pressing the back of your hand to her temple.

“Are you okay?” you asked and Penelope shook her head.

“Morgan’s setting Reid up on a double date, I couldn’t talk him out of it,” Penelope said rapidly.

“Wait, what?” you asked and Penelope growled in frustration, pulling you out of your desk and towards the elevators.

“You remember the blonde girl who worked with us last year, her father was a serial killer, she transferred to Swann’s unit? Ashley?”

“Yeah,” you said hesitantly. You’d helped Penelope bake cupcakes for Ashley’s graduation from the Academy — and swatted Kevin when he tried to swipe more than he was given.

“Yeah, well, Morgan’s got a date to this Hitchcock Festival, and he wanted to make it a double date—”

“Why? Double dates suck,” you interrupted, completely missing the point and Penelope shook your shoulder.

“Do you hear the words coming out of my mouth? Spencer is going on a date and it’s not with you.”

Passers-by look at the two of you strangely before walking off and you pressed the button to the lift in an attempt to look normal.

“So what?” you asked half-heartedly. “I’m sure Ashley’s a great person.”

Penelope looked like she wanted to pry open the lift doors and throw you down the shaft. “Her father is the Redmond Ripper, is that what you want for Spencer? For his future father-in-law to be a serial killer?” she demanded, the last few words coming out as a hiss and your lips part. Words, you remind yourself.

“It wouldn’t go that far,” you said, sounding weak even to yourself as you both step inside the lift.

“You don’t know that,” Penelope retorted. “Maybe they go on one date, maybe two. Next thing you know, he’s asking Charles Beauchamp for his daughter’s hand in marriage.”

You’ve just been following Penelope’s lead, and it doesn’t strike you that you’re headed to the BAU until the lift opens again and you’re standing face to face with half the team. Spencer’s brow furrowed as he recognised you, JJ glancing at Penelope curiously and Derek grinning at the both of you.

“Hey, what are you doing up here?” Derek asked, with a lot more charm and casualness than Spencer could have mustered.

There’s a shove from behind you, Penelope pushing you out as she chirped. “She wants to talk to you,” she said, ambivalent to your horrified expression as she pointed at Spencer.

“Me?” he asked, meek and slightly alarmed, going through every interaction of the past 7 years to check if he’d done something wrong. Derek and JJ shared a glance, with every intention to stay and listen, until Penelope pulled them both inside the lift.

“Bye!” she chirped, immune to your glare, waving as the lift closed. You stared at the lift, your escape route disappearing before your eyes, Spencer’s glued to you. His fingers drummed on the belt of his satchel, lips pursed in anticipation, heart hammering in his chest as you take a breath and look at him. Of course he had to wear purple today.

“Um… Penelope said you were going on a date,” you started slowly, hands sliding into your pockets despite your sweaty palms.

“Yeah, Morgan kind of roped me into it,” Spencer said, his expression turning pained. “We had this practical joke war and the truce agreement means I have to go on a double date with him. It’s a… whole thing, what did you want to talk about?”

You sucked your cheek in, a telltale sign that something was making you anxious. “So… you don’t want to go on the date?” you asked, tentative and Spencer furrowed his brow.

“Not… enthusiastically, but Seaver’s- I mean, Ashley’s nice, so…”

“But you don’t like her,” you reasoned slowly, gauging his responses so analytically that you could have your own desk here.

“I don’t not like her?” he asked, his forehead wrinkling more and more as the conversation went on.

“Right,” you said quietly, having run out of questions. “Cool, so… I’m gonna go. Have fun on your… date?”

He’s never seen you this unsettled, this flustered, especially around him, and cute as it is, it worried him, his hand reaching out to nudge your elbow before you could run off. “Are you okay?” he asked, deeply concerned.

“Yeah, no, Penelope’s just… um…” You closed your eyes, took a breath, and internally went, Fuck it. “If you don’t like her, don’t go,” you said, looking at him again. Bad decision. You really want to kiss him.

“Okay… But I kind of already agreed to go,” Spencer said, shifting where he stood nervously.

“I… I don’t want you to go,” you said, hoping he would extrapolate the meaning, but of course he doesn’t. He just narrows his eyes in confusion.

“You don’t—”

“I’m asking you not to go,” you insisted, your heart in your throat. You might actually cry if he goes anyway. A beat passed, Spencer just looking into your pleading eyes.

“Okay,” he said eventually, moving to press the lift button, and it’s your turn to frown.

“Okay? That’s it? I asked you not to go and you’re not going?”

“Pretty much,” he replied casually, moving to call up the lift. “Besides, Hitchcock movies don’t really have the same appeal after you know who the murderer is. I mean, it’s nice to appreciate the cinematography of the whole thing, but once you know who the killer in Psycho is, there’s only so many times you can rewatch it before it becomes predictable. Now, if it was something like a novel, that’s a different story, because literature can be interpreted so many ways, and Arthur Conan Doyle still appeals after the third or fourth time you read—”

“You’re not going?” you repeated, standing there, completely struck by him and he looked at you, as though puzzled that you were still stuck on it.

“You told me not to,” he said, concerned again. “Are you sure you’re okay?” His hand flitted up to press against your temple and you freezed, his hand drifting down to your neck to check your pulse, which fluttered when he touched it.

“Why would you just… I mean, how can you just listen to me like that?” you managed to ask and he dropped his hand, slightly amused.

“You’re impossible, you know that,” he said, the lift opening and he waited for you to get in first, his arm keeping it open. “I mean, I don’t listen to you, you argue with me. I listen to you, and you’re still arguing with me. Is there any way to win with you?”

You ignored the easy avenue into a catfight, still looking at him. “She could be the love of your life and you’re just not gonna go because I—”

“She’s not,” he said, his voice plain and firm. “Will you get in so I don’t have to hold this forever?”

“You don’t know that she’s not,” you continued, frowning at him. “She could be the woman you spend your life with—”

“She’s not,” he said again, just as firmly as before. Fact. Not opinion. Not doubt. He looked at you intently, your throat moving as you swallow, not that there’s anything there with your mouth completely dried out.

She’s not the love of his life.

The team knows that my priority is you.

Whatever happens next, I am here. I won’t leave, not unless you ask me to.

You have people. Even if you can’t see them.

How many times had he told you how he felt without saying it? “I’m such an idiot,” you murmured, shaking your head. “I have no business calling myself an intelligence analyst when you…” He frowned at you as you trailed off, still holding the stupid lift open. Penelope was right. All along, she was right. You crossed the foot between the two of you. “Spencer Reid, will you go out with me?” you asked, your voice calm, finally finding yourself on even footing with him. “Properly, I mean. On a date.” No more cryptic codes to decipher, no more dancing around each other. Everything had been decoded, deciphered, plain to see.

“I…” He blinked at you in surprise. “Really?” he asked, almost in disbelief, then checked down the hall like someone was watching him.

“Not a practical joke, I promise,” you said, your heart settling back in your chest. “We could get a drink, see a movie, I couldn’t care less what we do, I just… Spencer, I like you. A lot. And if you don’t want to, which, I mean, fair enough, your call, but—”

He crosses whatever gap is left between the two of you, pressing his lips to yours and grasping your jaw and your hands emerge from your pockets, holding his waist as he takes your breath away. His fingers threaded into your hair, holding you like you were the most precious thing in the world, and you kissed him back, pulling away only when your lungs ached for air. His eyes are bright and dilated when he looked down at you, lights glittering in his clear gaze. “I want to,” he murmured, a slight rasp. “Very much.”

[nostarfights]

I Wish You Would

Pairing: Bucky Barnes X blackwidow!fem!Reader

Summary: After months of falling for each other, you and Bucky are finally forced to face your feelings.

Warnings: Mentions of the reader and Bucky’s traumatizing pasts, enemies to lovers, arguing, kissing and a few uses of y/n.

Word Count: 2.3K

a/n: lol this kinda sucks but i hope y’all like it anyway :) happy thunderbolts trailer release day!

the gif below does not belong to me

Even after the Red Room destroyed every bit of your personality, you still felt that you were easy to get along with. Even after you slowly became yourself again and learned what it meant to be somewhat normal in your new position as a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent, repaying your debts to society, you still remained kind to those who deserved it. You got along with everyone, except for Bucky.

He always knew exactly how to push your buttons and no matter how much you pushed his buttons, the feelings you had for him never truly went away. You hated these feelings as much as you seemed to hate him, you felt weak for falling in love with him. Especially after all of your time in the Red Room where the idea that you were a weapon not a normal person who did and felt normal things was drilled into your head, along with many other things. And although you were now free, that idea that falling in love made you weak still lingered in your head. 

But luckily enough for you, it was easy to avoid Bucky around the tower due to the fact that Fury had only paired the two of you up once since you became a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent and later an Avenger two years ago. That exact mission being the one that sparked your feelings for Buck as well as the hatred for these feelings and yourself for feeling them.

You wished that you could stop loving Bucky and go on with your life, but it was impossible. It was as if he had dug himself into your heart and refused to leave, you could never get him off of your mind. No matter how many dates you went on in an attempt to forget him, Bucky always crawled back into your mind. 

So, as a way of dealing with your feelings, you were never kind to Bucky like you were to any other member of the Avengers, arguing with him any chance you got. And deep down, you knew how immature this was but in your mind it was better to be angry at Bucky than in love with him.

Meanwhile, Bucky was going through something quite similar. Given your similar pasts, Bucky was also made to feel as if he was nothing more than a weapon and even though he had been free longer than you had, he still struggled to lead a “normal” life. Whatever that meant. And just like you, he too fell in love with you on that very first mission you went on together. So, he took every bit of anger he had in him out on you, arguing with you anytime the two of you interacted or you even glanced at him.

During his time as the Winter Soldier, Bucky had forgotten how to do a lot of things. He forgot how to love, how to be a person not a weapon, how to deal with feelings that weren’t anger or rage and how to let his guard down around people he knew he could trust. Now that Bucky was a free man and still adjusting to his freedom day by day, the realization that he had fallen in love with you terrified him.

He didn’t know how to love anymore, after all that was something he hadn’t done since before HYDRA had kidnapped him decades ago.

As much as he hated these feelings, he hated you even more for causing him to fall in love with you. He knew that he was at fault for falling in love with you but at times, he felt as if it was your fault due to the fact that aside from Steve, he felt like you were the only other person who understood what he had gone through for years. He opened himself up to you during that first mission, inevitably regretting it after he fell for you. So, as another way of dealing with his feelings, Bucky requested that both Fury and Tony never put you on another mission with him again and they agreed.

He truly could not stand to be around you as long as he was still in love with you.

Ignoring each other and arguing when you did have to interact worked well enough for both of you and was in a way making it easier to deal with the strong feelings of love you felt. That was until Tony called the two of you into his office one day to tell you that you had been assigned to go on a mission together, immediately causing both of you to start to argue.

“What?! Is no one else available for this mission? I don’t want to spend a week alone with him!” you said to Tony, already fuming over the idea of having to spend that much time alone with the man you were head over heels in love with. Tony sighed then spoke again, “No, (y/n), no one else is available. You two are just going to have to learn to get along.” he said, an annoyed look still present on his face. 

“Are you sure I can’t just do this mission alone? Let’s not forget (y/n) over here “accidentally” abandoned Clint during her last mission.” Bucky argued as you frowned, reminding you of your bad habit of running off on your own during missions because of how used to working alone you had been after becoming a Widow. “No, you have to do it together and that’s final. I don’t have time for any more of your arguing.” Tony fired back, tired of you and Bucky being at each other’s throats all the time. 

“Fine!” you both said in unison before promptly storming out of Tony’s office in opposite directions.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

You and Bucky were now three days into the mission and still living in the safehouse that was in the middle of the woods. Awaiting for the man you were sent to catch to come back to this area he supposedly frequented–according to a tip you had received–before their plans to level New York with a bomb was complete. 

While you were there the two of you took turns surveying the area and watching out for this guy. One of you would sleep during the night while the other kept watch and during the day whoever stayed up all night would take a nap until the early afternoon then go to their hiding place.

And unsurprisingly, you and Bucky had argued multiple times everyday since you arrived. But you had to admit, you were beginning to grow tired of the constant arguing. Maybe being in love wasn’t such a bad thing? After all, you had seen how healthy Pepper and Tony’s relationship was and the fact that their love for one another never weakened either of them. They seemed stronger with each other by their side. 

As you and Bucky surveyed the area in your hiding spots up in the trees, these thoughts helped you come to terms with the fact that you were in love with Bucky and that was okay. Being in love with him was now no longer a bad thing to you and now that you felt this way after fully processing your feelings, you promised yourself that you were going to be a lot nicer to Bucky, like you should have been all along. He deserved more kindness in his life and you felt like a fool for letting your feelings and hatred for them blind you.

“Hey! Pay attention!” Bucky shouted at you through the walkie talkie attached to your belt after he had seen you lower your binoculars while you were lost in thought. “Sorry.” you quietly said back before you then raised your binoculars back up to your face, now back in the present instead of letting your mind race.

The lack of any sort of insult or argument in your response confused Bucky. The two of you had argued almost everyday for the past two years and now you suddenly weren’t? It didn’t make sense at all to Bucky. And in this moment, Bucky began to wonder if the reason for your mean behavior was the same as his.

Thoughts of the possibility of you loving him back raced through his mind. And as these thoughts went through his head, Bucky also began to wonder what he was going to do. But for the time being, he decided that the least he could do was willingly show you the kinder side of his personality like he had two years ago.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

That night once the sun had gone down and you were sure that there was no chance of the guy you were looking for appearing while you went back to the safe house, you both climbed down from your hiding spots in the trees and started to walk back, neither of you saying a single word the entire time.

“Hey, what’s up with you today? We haven’t argued at all.” Bucky said as he stopped you near the front door to the safehouse, making you tempted to fire back with a rude response like you usually did but you remained calm. “Nothing, I’m fine. I just don't feel like arguing with you anymore. Y’know?” you simply said while you started to walk again and entered the house. This response confused Bucky even more. Maybe you did actually love him? “Yeah, I guess.” he sheepishly replied as he followed you, the house still noticeably cold even with the heat on.

As for the rest of the night, it was your turn to eat a quick dinner, shower and go to sleep while Bucky kept watch. It took you a while to fall asleep but once you did, you were thrown into nightmare after nightmare, each one worse than the last.

But the one that your brain decided to focus on the longest reminded you of every bit of trauma you had experienced in the Red Room. In this nightmare, you were back in the Red Room and the speakers in there blared the sound of Dreykov’s voice screaming that you were a weak little girl and no one was coming to save you over and over again while you were forced to fight to the death the girls who had been in the program with you while red lights flashed, almost completely blinding you.

Meanwhile, the sound of your screams and thrashing coming from the bedroom as you went through this horrible nightmare alerted Bucky and he rushed over to you right away, turning the lights on as he entered the room. The second he reached you, he placed his hands on your shoulders as he sat next to you on the bed and shook you awake, “(Y/N)!” he shouted a few times as he continued to try to wake you up. And luckily you quickly awoke within one minute after Bucky had initially entered the room, freeing you–for now–from the trauma that has taunted you for years.

“Bucky!” you called out once you opened your eyes and saw him there, tackling him in a hug the second you were fully conscious. In this moment as you hugged a now shocked Bucky, you felt extremely glad that it was just a dream and you weren’t back there, fighting for your life. You were safe and in the arms of the man you loved.

“It’s okay, doll. You’re safe, I’m here.” he murmured into your ear as he held you close and slowly rocked you back and forth, one hand on the back of your head while his other arm was wrapped around your body.

The sound of that nickname as well as his touch ignited something in you, causing you to feel the need to tell him how you felt immediately as your cheeks blushed and goosebumps appeared on your arms. 

“There’s something I need to tell you. I love you Bucky, that’s why I‘ve always been so mean to you. I was a fool and couldn’t deal with the fact that I had fallen in love with someone after being told for years that falling in love was a sign of weakness and not something meant for me. But I’ve realized that I’m not weak for loving you.” you quickly explained once you had left Bucky’s arms, not having the strength to hold back your feelings for another second.

As soon as Bucky heard these words leave your lips, a feeling of relief washed over him and he realized that he wasn’t weak either for loving you. Hearing this admission from you healed him in a way and reminded him that he wasn’t the emotionless monster HYDRA had turned him into anymore. 

Not feeling the need to say another word in this moment, Bucky softly grabbed your face in both of his warm hands and passionately kissed you, hoping that this kiss conveyed to you how he felt. “We’re so stupid,” he said with a laugh once he had pulled away from your lips, your face slowly leaving his hands, “I love you too and I have since that first mission we ever went on together. I’m sorry I was so mean, I shouldn’t have taken the anger I was feeling out on you. You helped me learn how to love again, I need you to know that.” he replied, explaining himself as he looked into your eyes. “I’m sorry too, Buck.” you said before you then swiftly pulled him in for another kiss.

“Be my girl, doll, please.” Bucky begged once your lips separated moments later. “I always have been.” you whispered to him as you gazed back into his eyes, prompting both of you to tightly hug each other once more, cheeks blushing.

NAVIGATION

[miniwheat77]

Secret Weapon. (Ghost x Reader.)

!nsfw, smut, unprotected p in v sex, violence, war, blood, NO MINORS! This was a request that’s been sitting in my inbox a while :)

This is not edited.

“Captain.. what the fuck do we do?” Gaz pants out. His back is pressed firmly against the wall.

John thinks for a moment. What does he do?

Nikolai is unavailable. But he’s got an idea.

He lifts up his radio, turning it to a channel he hasn’t been on in years.

“Viper 1-1 page back.” He calls into the radio.

“Viper 1-1, copy.”

“We’re trapped on a rooftop.” Captain Price recites your coordinates. He had heard in passing that the pilot was nearby on another mission.

“Thirty-five out, we’re on the way.”

He sighs.

“Thank god.” He mumbles. The four are stuck on the rooftop. No where to go and hardly any ammo.

“We’re?” Gaz asks. They remember who the pilot is.

They fight all they can, all hope is about to be lost when the loud rumble of the helicopter comes.

The buzzing sound makes them perk up, seeing the flashback from the gun inside. They can’t see the person holding it.

Captain Price watches with a smile. The helicopter stays airborne until there is no one moving on the ground. They watch it land a couple hundred feet away, seeing two people get out of it. Clearing buildings as they make their way to the four.

The door finally opens, the four standing up. They’d been using the brick walls as cover.

You’re the first to step into their view, but you’ve got a ski mask on.

You grasp the hem of it, pulling it over your head.

You smile.

“Long time no see, Captain.” You nod.

“Shit. I could tell by how good the shots were that it was you.” He laughs. Pulling you in for a hug, hugging the pilot next.

The others watch, stunned.

“Oh uh… boys. This is Y/N.” He nods.

“My secret weapon.”

They take the time to shake your hand, introducing themselves to you.

But Ghost is completely taken off guard by you.

The way your hair falls after you take the mask, the fact that he didn’t expect to see a girl, let alone one was pretty as you.

What the hell?

You’d just saved his life. He was all out of ammo holed up in one building, if you hadn’t come? He wouldn’t even be alive to tell the tale.

It was the start of something Ghost never saw coming. Not in a million years.

———

It took a lot of convincing for you to join the task force.

Since you had made friends with the men, they bothered you to no limit to join. They liked you. You were skilled. They wanted you around all of the time.

When you eventually joined, Ghost spiraled completely out of control.

He avoided you like the plague because he knew what was coming and he was scared. He started drinking more, hiding in his room more. Socializing less and everyone noticed.

But only Johnny had caught on as to why.

He was falling in love with you, and he knew it.

He was falling and he was falling hard and he knew the only end to that free fall is the hard concrete when he lands. Ghost didn’t love. He didn’t because there was only heartbreak and hurt.

The first time it happened, he didn’t mean to.

You were doing your laundry, passing by his room with a basket when they fell out. He waited a while for you to come back for them but you never did so he swiped them.

A pair of panties.

Ghost was in too deep and he knew it.

Fisting his cock to the thought of you, face buried in your panties. He hated himself for what he’d become and he hated you for what you’d done to him. You’d made him a fool and he’d only spoken to you in passing.

He didn’t know what to do, so he did the only thing he could think of.

Kill.

On missions he was ruthless.

He didn’t know anything other than violence and pain. So he pushed himself to no limit. Working hard, staying up late. Taking extra watch and beating himself up mentally day and night about how weak he’d become all because of a woman.

He spent hours and hours training and working out. He’d lost count the days he’d spent in the shooting range and his death toll jumped by hundreds and grew more and more with each mission he went out on. Ghost was smart and skilled. He understood everything but the only thing he couldn’t figure out was you.

Finally, Johnny cornered him.

Ghost was walking to his room, Johnny was hot on his tail, asking how he was doing.

“Fine Johnny. Leave it be.” He mumbles, he goes to close his door but Soap doesn’t let him have it. Catching it with his boot and walking in, closing the door behind himself. “There’s something wrong with you, you’ve got the entire bloody task force worried sick about ya so you better start talkin.” He growls.

Ghost raises his eyebrows. Johnny had never spoken to him like that before.

“‘Scuse me?”

“You heard what I said, Ghost.”

He crosses his arms and Soap doesn’t let feel intimidated by him, of course he does. But Ghost is his friend. He cares about him.

“Full offense Johnny, piss off. We’re not teenage girls and I don’t intend on sharing my feelings with you so I think you should leave.”

He shakes his head. “I’ll set up camp until you’re ready to talk about it.” He stands his ground. Ghost sighs. “I don’t know how to talk about it Johnny. I don’t even know what’s wrong myself.”

“That’s a start, LT. The hell has gotten into you? You’re like a machine. Wake up, eat, kill, sleep.”

Ghost sighs.

“That girl.”

Realization hits Soap like a ton of bricks.

“I just..” he sighs. Sitting down on his bed. “I don’t know.”

“You have feelings for her?” Soap asks.

“I’d say I have more than just feelings for her, Johnny.” Ghost wipes his face through his mask. “Shit LT.”

“No kidding.”

“Well you won’t get the girl by being so reclusive sir.”

“My plan isn’t to get the girl Johnny, life is painful enough as is!” He groans.

“Yeah, well life is too short to worry about what hurts and let what you’ll enjoy pass you. So get out there and try. Christ in heaven you’re a brick wall.” He groans.

Ghost sighs. Johnny is right.

“Whatever Johnny, I have a lot to think about so.. kindly. Go to bed.”

“Fine. But we’re not done about this and you know it.” Soap rolls his eyes, leaving through the door. He can’t believe it. Ghost was in love with you.

———

“Ghost page back.” Captain mumbles into the radio.

“Copy.”

“Soap is feeling ill. You mind taking over his 0100 patrol?”

“Not at all sir.”

Ghost finishes up what he’s doing and prepares for the patrol.

Since they’re out of the states and in enemy territory they have patrol often.

“Great, you’ll be with Y/N.”

Ghost freezes in his spot.

“Johnny page back.”

“Copy.”

“I see you in person, you’re a dead man MacTavish.”

“Already in for the night sir, door’s locked. See you tomorrow.”

Ghost can’t see it but the scot snickers to himself inside his room. Feeling very well actually.

Ghost meets up with you just before your patrol together and wants to crawl into a hole and die. You were so beautiful and there was nothing he could do about it.

It’s quiet for a while. The two of you walking alongside each other. It’s pitch dark out. The only lights come from the base. “So. How long you know Price for?” He’s trying to make small talk. Something that takes you off guard. He never seemed to be this open.

“Since I started in the military actually. He was at the convention I enlisted at.” You smile. “Really? I forget how old the man is.” He laughs. “I totally did not think you were this outgoing, Ghost.” You laugh. “What do you mean?”

“You just do not seem the type for small talk.” You smile.

He chuckles. “Nah, the mask makes me unapproachable but that not intentional.”

“Than why do you wear it?”

“To hide my identity. I’ve killed a lot of people and don’t want retaliation.”

“Don’t they just know to go after the guy in the skull mask though?” You side eye him. “Yeah, but when I wear it I want to be found.”

“Good point.” You smile.

“Stop.” He throws a hand up in front of you suddenly. “Woah-“ you mumble. He looks around, every alarm in his body is going off.

“What is it?” You ask. “Something doesn’t feel right.” He mumbles. He draws out his flashlight, shining at the ground. He doesn’t see anything, not for the first few feet at least. After that is when he notices indents in the sand. Footprints.

He follows them straight up to the barbed wire fence around the base.

“Price page back.”

He waits a minute.

“Captain Price page back.”

“Copy, what is it?”

“Footprints leading up to the Southwest fence. We’ll follow them and make sure it’s not a threat but we haven’t covered the north yet.” He says it into his radio and waits.

“Garrick and I will cover it, just be safe. Page back every ten until you know it’s clear.”

“Yes sir.”

Ghost tilts his head, letting you know to follow him.

You do just that.

It takes a couple miles of walking before you spot a building in the distance, thank god for night vision.

Ghost posts up and watches for a while, not seeing any movement. The two of you approach, you go slow. You never do see any movement, the building is severely run down, the roof is in bad shape and it’s dirty. “Do you think they’re human footprints?” You ask.

He shrugs. “Hard to say with the sand. Could be an animal of some kind. Could explain the staggering of them.” He explains.

You nod your head. “Looks like everything is clear Captain, we’re going to look around a bit and than head back.”

“Got it, we’re heading for bed. Page if you need anything else Simon.”

You step inside the run down building, it was once someone’s house. Out in the middle of nowhere.

Odd.

The rooms inside seem intact, aside from being dusty, frozen in time. Plants have taken over and some of the dishes that remain are broken but the bedrooms are still completely normal. The beds are made.

You walk inside and sit down on a bed, groaning. “I don’t wanna walk back yet.” You whine. “Take a break.” He laughs. “Okay.”

He chuckles. That didn’t take much convincing.

“Can I show you something?” He asks. “Sure, what is it?”

He moves to sit next to you, grasping his mask. Your eyes widen when he pulls it straight off. “You’re showing me this why? Explain yourself?” You laugh,

“No that’s not what I wanted to show you, this is.”

He grasps your chin and goes for it.

All the money in the pot. A gamble of a lifetime.

He plants his lips straight on yours and his blood rushes through him, his heart pounding so loud it’s all he hears. He expects you to pull back. To be disgusted with him.

But you don’t. You meet him in the middle and kiss him back even harder.

He pushes you back on the dusty bed raising himself up over you, one leg resting between yours. His thigh is flush with your clothed opening. He doesn’t stop kissing you, he takes even further.

When you feel his tongue on yours, you finally pull away with a gasp.

“Ghost-“ you pant.

“Simon. Call me Simon.” He breathes. “W-why are you doing this?” You hiss as he pushes his thigh further into you. “Because I’ve waited long enough to get my fucking hands on you. I can’t take it anymore.” He groans. You hadn’t expected him to be so forward, you also didn’t expect how handsome he’d be without a mask on. How overly willing he was to expose himself to you shows you that he trust you, and obviously had more feelings for you than he let on. Ghost didn’t just act out of lust, Johnny told you that.

Now you realize why you’d had that conversation earlier in the day. Fucking scot.

He gets your vest unzipped and grasps hold of your shirt, ripping it straight down the middle. He hears you gasp. “Simon!”

“Quiet, I’ll replace it with twenty more.” He breathes.

The click of his pocket knife makes you freeze. But he’s skilled with it, moving quickly, slicing the small slit of fabric holding your bra together. He shoves the fabric off of you and cups your breasts with his hands, leaning down to take one of your nipples into his mouth while he toys with the other. Pinching it between his fingers and tugging on it. You whine out, raising your hips and rutting yourself into his thigh. Ghost is the person you talked to the very least, yet here you are. On display for him.

“God you’re a fucking minx.” He hisses. He sits up and watches you roll your hips into his thigh. Desperate for him to touch you. You realize something.

“You’re the one who’s been stealing my panties, aren’t you?” You smirk.

He visibly blushes.

“You’re a cheeky thing! I can’t believe it’s been you!” You gasp. “Shut up.” He hisses. He doesn’t like to be embarrassed, you’re lucky it’s you or he would’ve told you to get fucked by now. “Fuck, how many have you gotten away with?”

He shrugs. “Lot more than you’d expect.”

“You’re such a fucking pervert.” You laugh.

“Yeah, you’d think even worse of me if you knew what I did with them.” He growls. He shoves his face into the crook of your neck, attacking your skin with his teeth and lips. Pushing his hand down the front of your waistband. He glides his fingers over your pussy, hearing you whine.

“Now I want to know. What you did with them.”

He chuckles, it’s dark.

“The smell of you is intoxicating, darling.”

You moan out. “Fuck I shouldn’t think that’s hot but I do.” You mewl. Lips parted as he sucks at your throat. Your jugular vein is pulsing and he can’t feel it with his tongue. He rests his hand over your head. “Been waiting weeks for a taste of you, doll. Now we’re here.” He groans, kissing roughly down your center. He’s rough as he tugs your pants down your legs, barely taking the time to unbutton them. You thought maybe he’d cut those off too, not that you’d mind anyways.

He kisses further down, hearing your breathing pick up even more as he presses lower. He doesn’t start slow like you thought he would. Starting by sucking directly on your clit, making you flinch.

You hiss, jumping away from him. You hear him chuckles as he starts his assault on it.

“Poor thing, so sensitive.” He smirks.

“Shut up before I ride your face, Riley.” You hiss, pushing a hand in his hair.

“Oh no?” He smirks. You roll your eyes.

He lowers his head back down, gliding his tongue up your slip.

Like a predator toying with its prey.

Just before he devours you whole.

He doesn’t relent, no matter how much you cry or squirm. He holds you down by your thighs. He presses his tongue into your opening, rubbing your clit with his nose like a dog. He’s filthy.

You didn’t think Ghost was the type to be so dirty. When he’s got you right on the edge, crying out in pure bless. You’re about to beg him not to stop but he draws back anyways. His lips are wet in your arousal. His cheeks are flushed pink, pupils blown wide with lust.

He sits up, grasping his shirt and forcing it over his head, going for his cargo pants next.

You’re watching him in a daze. Drunk off his lips and how he’s made you feel.

“I was normal until you came along, hm. Didn’t think I could feel what I feel until you saved our asses on that rooftop. I thought I’d be okay until you pulled that damned ski mask off and showed your fuckin’ face and now I don’t think I’ll be okay again. You’ll pay for it darling.”

He moves himself over the top of you, thrusting himself straight inside you to the hilt, you’re crying out.

“You’ll pay for it by letting me have this pussy whenever I want it.” He growls.

He’s relentless. Doesn’t matter how much you fall apart or how much you cry. He doesn’t let up. He’s rough, his pace is bruising. You can’t get out a single word as he works his hips into yours, using his thumb to rub circles on your swollen clit.

You’re impossibly wet around him, clutching at the old sheets so hard your knuckles go white. He laughs. He snaps his hips into yours, feeling how wet you are around him. Moaning and whining, writhing from the pleasure he’s giving you. You’ve never felt something so intense before. Not in your life.

He forces you to roll over, gasping out at the loss of him but he doesn’t give you long. Once you’re on your stomach, he’s raising you your hips and thrusting back into you. Pushing your face roughly into the mattress and holding your hands behind your back.

“Fuckin hell Simon!” You cry.

You feel good of course, but you need him to relent. Just for a minute at least.

“So much-“ you cry. “You’re mine. Say it.” He growls. “Maybe I’ll let up.”

“I’m yours!” You sob.

“Say it again!” He growls. He grips your hands hard.

“I’m yours Simon- fuck! I’m yours!” He buries himself inside of you to the hilt, slowing his speed but not his force. He pulls you up by your arms, still holding them behind you. Your eyes widen when you realize there’s a mirror above the bed. It’s broken and dusty but that doesn’t mean you can’t see yourselves in it.

He wraps his hands around your waist, still fucking into you but he’s being gentler now. Slow.

“Say it again.” His voice is a low growl. You almost miss it.

“I’m yours.” You whine. Raising your hand to touch his cheek.

“Again.” He growls even louder. Pushing into your belly. “I- I’m yours Simon. All fucking yours.” You’re nearly chanting it.

You sob, tears spilling over your eyelids.

“Now fucking scream it.” He grits his teeth, thrusting straight up into that spongy spot deep inside of you, sending you straight into your orgasm and you nearly do just that. You’re loud when you cum, barely getting out the words “I’m yours!” As you cry and sob, lurching forward and shaking through your orgasm. He fucks you through it, clutching onto you for dear life as he moans out, reaching his own high. He thrusts as deep as he’ll go before he cums. It’s a decision he may regret but right now, he doesn’t care.

You’re whimpering as he slides out of you. Taking in oxygen like it’s limited.

He helps you until you’re lying on your back again. Soothing you. He massages your skin, bringing you back down to earth.

Simon knew better than to be so rough but he lost himself.

“Shhh.. s’okay baby. I’ve got you.” He breathes. You close your eyes, steadying your breaths.

Simon was a lot of man, he knew he was.

He draws his fingertips over your chest and arms, your eyes follow them as he lets you relax.

“You alright?” He asks.

“Yeah.” You mumble. “I wasn’t too much was I?” He smiles.

“No- not at all. Though you came on VERY strong.” You smirk.

He laughs. “That’s the only way, baby.”

He sits up. “Now come on, we’ve got to head back before they realize we’re missing.”

“Yes sir.”

[possessedmen]

Legal Affairs

The clock in the corner of Atticus's office ticked rhythmically, a sound that had long since faded into the background of his life. The sun was setting, casting long shadows across the mahogany desk where he sat, papers strewn about in an attempt to distract him from the thoughts that had been plaguing him for weeks - thoughts of William.

There was a knock at the door, soft but insistent.

"Come in," Atticus called out, his voice betraying none of the turmoil he felt.

William stepped inside, closing the door behind him with a click that seemed to echo in the quiet room. He was dressed in a sharp suit that did little to hide his youthful vigor. His eyes, however, held a mischievous glint that Atticus had come to both dread and anticipate.

"Working late, Atticus?" William asked, his voice a velvet whisper as he approached the desk, papers in hand.

"Seems like I'm not the only one," Atticus replied, his eyes following William's movements. He couldn't help but admire how the younger man's suit fit him, tailored to accentuate every curve of his body.

William leaned over the desk, placing documents down, but not before his eyes met Atticus's with an intensity that made the older man's breath hitch. "I found something incredible at this antique store," William began, his voice lowering to an almost conspiratorial tone.

Atticus raised an eyebrow, "Oh? And what might that be?"

"A book," William said, pulling an old, leather-bound volume from his bag. "It talks about ancient rituals, including one for body swapping. Imagine, Atticus, getting a taste of youth again with my body."

Atticus's interest was piqued, but he kept his tone skeptical. "Body swapping? You can't be serious."

"I am," William insisted, his eyes sparkling with excitement. "Have you ever thought about what it would feel like to... make out with your own body? To see yourself through someone else's eyes?"

The suggestion sent an unexpected thrill through Atticus. He tried to dismiss it, but the idea was too tantalizing to ignore. "And how exactly does this work?"

William moved around the desk, standing closer, now behind Atticus, his breath warm against Atticus's neck as they started kissing, William's hand roaming over Atticus' chest. "I want to experience what it's like to be the boss." He then whispered, "We need something personal from each other. Something intimate."

Atticus nodded, reaching into his desk drawer to pull out a tie he often wore. William, in turn, unbuttoned his shirt slightly, revealing a silver necklace. "This should do."

They moved to the center of the office, where William had already set up candles. He opened the book, its pages yellowed with age, and began reading from it, his voice a low chant. The air seemed to thicken around them, charged with an energy Atticus could feel against his skin.

As William finished the incantation, a sudden dizziness overtook them both. When Atticus opened his eyes, the world looked different — taller, somehow, and the mirror across the room reflected not his own seasoned face but William's youthful one.

"Atticus?" William's voice came from Atticus's own body, sounding bewildered yet thrilled.

"This is... incredible," Atticus said, touching his new, younger face, feeling the smooth skin under his fingertips.

William moved closer, his eyes wide with wonder as he touched Atticus's face, now his own. "We did it."

The exploration began, each touch a discovery.

"Now, you're the young associate," Atticus said, his voice now William's, vibrant and eager. He pushed William, now in his own mature body, against the desk, roleplaying the power dynamic. "Show me how you'd impress your senior partner."

William, in Atticus's body, played along, his hands fumbling with the unfamiliar buttons of the suit, his touch more deliberate, mimicking the authority he now embodied. "I'd start by showing you how much I've learned from you," he said, his voice deeper, commanding.

They explored each other slowly, Atticus marveling at how his own body felt under his hands, the hard muscles, the slight sag of age replaced by youthful tautness. William's hands, now Atticus's, traced over the firm chest, down to the stomach, feeling the texture of skin that was now so alien yet intimately known. Each touch sent shivers through Atticus, the unfamiliar sensation of his own body's skin under his fingertips, now William's, making his breath catch.

"You're always so composed," William teased, running his fingers through Atticus's hair, now his own, feeling the thrill of control. "But how composed are you now?"

Atticus, in William's body, found himself responding as if he were William, his movements more daring, his touch more exploratory. He kissed down the neck of his own body, tasting the salt of skin, feeling the pulse quicken under his lips. He whispered, "You've always wanted to be in charge, haven't you?"

William, playing the part of the senior partner, guided Atticus's hand to his own erection, showing him how he'd pleasure himself in these stolen moments. "Learn from the best," he growled, his eyes dark with desire. Atticus felt the warmth, the weight of it, a new sensation that made him ache with desire.

They moved to the floor, the carpet rough against their skin as they switched roles again. Atticus, still in William's body, sat atop William, now mimicking the senior partner's usual demeanor, riding him with an enthusiasm that was both William's and his own. Each thrust was a lesson in sensation, the feeling of tightness around him, the heat, the friction, all new and exhilarating.

"Look at you, so eager to please," William gasped, his hands gripping Atticus's hips, now his own, with a strength that surprised them both.

Just then, the phone on the desk rang, vibrating across the wood. Will, in Atticus's body, looked at Atticus with a wicked grin, quickly picking up the call on speakerphone.

"Atticus Montgomery here," William said, his impersonation so perfect that even Atticus raised his eyebrows in surprise. He watched as Will, in his body, leaned back, chewing on a pen — a habit Atticus had, which William mimicked flawlessly.

"Atticus, it's Henry. Need to run through the latest on the case," came the voice of Will's father and Atticus's long-time friend and partner.

"Sure, Henry, go ahead," William responded smoothly, his voice carrying the authoritative tone Atticus was known for.

As Henry talked, Atticus, still in William's body, decided to push the boundaries further. He moved between William's legs, now his own, and began to work his mouth over William's cock, who was now in Atticus's body. Will's eyes widened, but he managed to keep his composure on the call, his voice steady despite the pleasure.

"Uh, yes, Henry, I've noticed some discrepancies in the client's statement," William said, his breath hitching slightly as Atticus took him deeper, his tongue swirling around the head, eliciting a soft moan that he tried to cover with a cough.

"Everything okay there, Atticus?" Henry asked, concern in his voice.

"Absolutely, just a little throat irritation," William managed, his voice steady as Atticus continued, his head bobbing rhythmically. "I think we should consider involving William more in this case. He's shown remarkable insight."

"Wait, what? Will's too green for this case, Atticus," Henry argued, his tone sharp. "We can't risk it on his inexperience."

"He's not as green as you think, Henry," William countered, his voice firm, the roleplay adding an edge to his words as Atticus continued his ministrations, his lips and tongue working in tandem. "He's been instrumental in piecing together the evidence timeline. He caught something we all missed."

"And what's that?" Henry challenged, the skepticism clear.

"He found that the witness's timeline was off by an hour, which could change the entire narrative of the event," William explained, his voice steady despite the distraction. "That's not something a 'green' lawyer would see."

Henry paused, considering. "Alright, but I'm not convinced. We'll discuss this further. Now, about the deposition..."

As Henry detailed the deposition strategy, William listened, his voice sometimes faltering with the pleasure of Atticus's skilled mouth. "Uh, yes, I think William should be there to observe. He might catch something else."

"Fine, but he's to observe only," Henry conceded reluctantly. "I want to see if he can keep up."

"Absolutely," William said, his breath hitching as Atticus took him deeper, the sensation overwhelming. "I believe in his potential. We should nurture it."

Atticus, now in the spirit of mischief, moved to Will's feet, now his own, and began to massage them, his fingers pressing into the arches, a silent promise of more to come. William's breath caught, the sensation new but intensely pleasurable.

"And Henry," William continued, his voice thick with suppressed desire, "I've been thinking... maybe William could take on some of the witness interviews. He has a good rapport with people."

Henry's voice was doubtful. "That's a lot of responsibility, Atticus. Are you sure?"

"I'm positive," ambitious William said, his voice cracking slightly as Atticus's fingers found a sensitive spot, sending a shiver up his spine. "He's ready for this step up."

"Well, if you're sure... But we'll review his performance after the first one."

"Agreed," William managed, his voice a mixture of authority and arousal as Atticus's hands continued their work, now kissing the soles of Will's feet, the act both worshipful and erotic.

Once the call ended, Atticus, still in William's body, pointed out, "You played me too well."

With a playful smirk that held a kernel of truth, he replied, "I could get used to being you."

Atticus chuckled, his hands still on William's feet, now his own, caressing them with a reverence that was both playful and sincere. "You even got the pen chewing right. But how did you know so much about the case?"

"I might have been paying more attention than you think," William said, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "Or maybe I'm just that good at pretending to be you."

Atticus, with a laugh, leaned forward, his breath hot against William's toes as he spoke. "You're too good, Will. It's almost frightening."

William, still in character, retorted, "Frightening? No, Atticus, I think you mean 'impressive'." He wiggled his toes under Atticus's touch, the sensation sending a jolt of pleasure through him. "Besides, you seemed to enjoy me 'being you' quite a bit."

Atticus's cheeks flushed, the truth undeniable. "I can't argue with that," he admitted, his voice low, his hands moving up William's legs, now his own, feeling the familiar yet new contours. "But don't get too comfortable in my shoes... or my body."

William grinned, the playful banter continuing, "Oh, I think I might just enjoy this little twist of fate a bit longer. Who knows, I might even learn to tie a tie like you do."

They laughed, the sound mingling with the soft glow of the candles, their bodies still intertwined in the complexity of their swapped selves.

"Henry seemed scarily impressed," Atticus noted, his tone a mix of admiration and humor. "But are you sure you didn't put too much work on yourself? Witness interviews, depositions?"

William shrugged with a playful grin. "Maybe I did, but I think you'd like the idea of someone else doing your work for a change."

Atticus couldn't help but smile. "You got me there. I must admit, the thought of you handling some of my responsibilities while I get to sit back and keep an eye on you... it's quite appealing."

"Now where were we?" Atticus kissed William as they continued the exploration of their bodies, the boundaries of their roles blurring in Atticus' office.

[billiesbabygirleilish]

Billie x guitarist reader where Billie and reader are friends but there is obvious tension between them. Reader loves to post guitar thirst traps on her socials and Billie is seen by fans in the readers comment section flirting. There is some chatter and fans are starting to notice when Billie is out with her friend group, they see reader and Billie kind of all over each other. Can take place at one of billies shows, billies guitarist is sick so asks reader to fill in (even though reader is just there to help in the background) reader agrees and Billie gets reader to play next to her in one of her songs (you can pick which one baby) and they interact in a cute flirty way in the show.After the show they have a moment can be fluff or smut up to you. They get spotted kissing later at an after party (set at an LA show) Billie posts a pic on her ig story kissing reader (like the Odessa pic) then deletes it and just refuses to talk about it. But people definitely think something is going on because they see that Maggie, Finn and Claudia follow reader on ig.

I’ll leave it up to you to fill in the inbetween but it’s just a thought I’ve had in my head 🤭

an: OK FIRST OFF DAMN I LOVE THE IDEAS IN YOUR HEAD AND SECOND HERE YA GO

Strings of Fate

.*.*.*.*.*➳➳➳➳➳┄┄🎸┄┄➳➳➳➳➳.*.*.*.*.*

.*.*.*.*.*➳➳➳➳➳┄┄🎸┄┄➳➳➳➳➳.*.*.*.*.*

The stale beer smell of the Forum backstage clung to your clothes even before you stepped foot into the madness. You loved the organized chaos, the pre-show jitters, the energy crackling in the air like static electricity. Tonight felt different, though. Beyond the familiar hum, there was a nervous thrum in your gut.

You were usually just here to help out. Lugging equipment, fetching water, making sure Billie's notoriously picky team had everything they needed. But tonight, Billie’s guitarist, Justin, was down with a nasty flu. And Billie, in a moment of sheer desperation, had practically begged you to fill in.

“Please, you’re the only one I trust!” she'd pleaded, her eyes wide and genuinely worried. “You know all the songs, you’re a damn good guitarist, and… and you just get it.”

You hadn’t played a show this big in years. You’d been content with your Instagram guitar thirst traps, short snippets of riffs and soulful solos that garnered a surprising amount of attention. Especially from a certain Billie Eilish, who had a habit of leaving flirty little comments like, “Damn, those fingers do more than just play guitar, huh?” or “Can I borrow that guitar? For… reasons.”

Those comments were half the reason you agreed.

Now, standing backstage, tuning Justin's guitar, you could feel Billie’s eyes on you. You glanced up, catching her leaning against a road case, arms crossed, a small smirk playing on her lips.

“Nervous?” she asked, her voice low and husky.

You chuckled, trying to keep your voice steady. “A little. Haven’t played in front of this many people since… well, ever.”

“Relax,” she said, pushing herself off the case and walking towards you. “You’re gonna crush it. I know you will.” She stopped right in front of you, close enough that you could smell her signature vanilla perfume. “Besides,” she added, a playful glint in her eyes, “I’ll be there to hold your hand… metaphorically, of course.”

The night flew by in a blur of flashing lights, screaming fans, and the adrenaline-fueled roar of the music. Your fingers moved instinctively, years of practice kicking in as you navigated the familiar tunes. But the real highlight was “The 30th.”

Billie walked over to you mid-song, a mischievous grin on her face. "Alright, superstar, show 'em what you got.” She nodded towards the sea of faces, her eyes sparkling.

The spotlight hit you and you launched into the guitar solo, a bluesy lament that echoed the song’s bittersweet melody. You poured every ounce of feeling into it, lost in the moment, your fingers dancing across the fretboard. When you finished, the crowd erupted, and Billie grabbed your hand, holding it aloft as she sang the final verse, her voice tinged with a vulnerability that sent shivers down your spine.

After the show, backstage was a whirlwind of congratulations and high-fives. You found yourself pushed up against a wall, Billie’s body pressed close to yours.

“You were incredible,” she breathed, her voice a low rumble. “Seriously, that solo… wow.”

You couldn’t help but grin. “Thanks. You weren’t so bad yourself.”

The air crackled between you. You could feel her gaze burning into you, and you knew, without a doubt, that she felt it too.

“Can I… can I steal you away from all this for a second?” she murmured, her hand finding your waist.

You didn’t even have time to answer before she was leading you out of the chaos and into a quiet storage room. The only light came from a single bare bulb hanging from the ceiling.

She turned to face you, her expression serious for a moment. Then, she reached up and gently brushed a stray strand of hair from your face.

“I’ve wanted to do this for so long,” she whispered, and before you could say anything, she leaned in and kissed you.

It was soft at first, hesitant, a tentative exploration. But then she deepened the kiss, her lips molding against yours, her hand tightening on your waist. It was everything you’d imagined, and more. It was a kiss that tasted of longing and unspoken desires, a kiss that promised so much more.

Later that night, at the after-party, surrounded by flashing lights and pulsating music, the tension between you and Billie was palpable. You kept finding yourselves drawn to each other, whispers and stolen glances exchanged across the crowded room.

Then, it happened. Someone snapped a picture. You and Billie, locked in a passionate kiss against a graffiti-covered wall.

The next morning, your phone was blowing up. The picture was everywhere. Billie had posted it on her Instagram story – a grainy, blurry shot, but undeniably you two – and then, just as quickly, deleted it.

The internet exploded. Theories ran rampant. Were you dating? Was it just a one-time thing? (absolutely not)

Billie, true to form, remained silent. She didn’t address the picture, didn’t deny or confirm anything.

But then, you noticed something. Maggie, Billie’s mom, had started following you on Instagram. So had Finneas, her brother, and Claudia, his girlfriend.

It was a small thing, a seemingly insignificant detail, but it spoke volumes. It said, "We see you. We know what’s going on. And we approve.”

You still hadn't talked to Billie about it. Not really. You’d exchanged a few texts, mostly just emojis. But you knew. You both did. Something had shifted. The kiss had opened a door, and neither of you seemed inclined to close it.

You scrolled through your Instagram feed, stopping at a new post from Billie. It was a candid shot of her laughing, her eyes crinkled at the corners. The caption was simple: "Life is weird. (and sometimes, really, really good.)"

You knew she was talking about you. And you felt a slow smile spread across your face. Life was weird. But you had a feeling it was about to get a whole lot weirder. And you couldn't wait to see what happened next.

[ablobwhowrites]

I feel that player is now abnormally advanced then any human because of what happens at playtime co making them learn how to fight, code, react abnormally fast, survive toxic gas, survive without eating for long periods of time, hold breath without passing out, carry HEAVY item that even bodybuilders would have trouble with all that good stuff

I honestly love this though cause imagine when y/n is hangout with friends (don't worry the toys are being babysat by y/n's grandparents) and going to some kind of pop up arcade and y/n doing that punch power game and ended up physically breaking it and their friends are just standing there shocked at how this motherfucker just broke that machine. Also imagining like y/n just doing the almost heaviest set of bench presses they can do also imagining like once y/n's friend lost sometimes under a car and y/n is like. "Oh I got it" and lifts the far up so y/n's friend can just crawl under and grab it. Also imagining that they challenge y/n to a arm wrestle and immediately lose and y/n's just wondering if their friends are just pulling a prank or letting him win as a joke but it's not, it's cause y/n is just so god damn strong from having to survive the factory and do almost having every single near life and death experience known to man, like having to be fast at reacting cause of how many hostile things where in that factory. Having to starve and basically go on long periods without food and water cause most of the water down there is probably contaminated with something cause no way it's clean.

Then having to survive toxic has and the same has that is a high level explosion device also pending with basically almost being eaten alive by other staving things in playtime co that have given y/n long lasting scars and major blood loss because what I said, there is absolutely no way they are coming out unscathed without like any wounds and pretty sure they may have unchecked broken or fractured bones. Also being electrocuted is one to because of the doctor and that one trap basically sending god knows how many volts through y/n's body cause the grab pack holds on for a pretty good almost minute. Plus dragging those heavy ass boxes like nothing and you have to build some crazy leg strength and even without the grab pack pretty sure their arms are probably jacked to because of how much they use the grab pack that requires your arms and to physically use your arms for every function of the grab pack plus so much more that basically makes them a beast cause I imagine no other person surviving that.

I don't imagine sometimes y/n uses his fast reaction skills to try and keep things from falling off or some like that but the object just doesn't fall but y/n being already prepared to catch something ends up looking likes their going crazy. Bro need to catch up on a lot of sleep cause I know they ain't processing things normally and is still on survival mode at this point.

(that's it for my yap session. If you like this please don't feel shy and request any ideas for y/n's or stories. But for now please stay safe and drink water!)

[mayahawkesfirstwife]

hiiiiii. can you do a se mi fic where the reader is a bimbo and in a relationship (maybe thanos or nam gyu's girlfriend) and se mi is attracted to her. se mi lies to her and tells her that doing things with other girls 'doesn't count as cheating' and the reader believes her so they...you know.

bonus for her boyfriend walking in and se mi just being smug

It Doesn’t Count as Cheating if We’re Girls

★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆

Pairings: Se-mi x Fem! Bimbo! Reader (Bf! Nam-gyu x Fem! Bimbo! Reader)

Summary: Se-mi tells Nam-gyu’s bimbo girlfriend if you do things with a girl it doesn’t count as cheating.

Warnings: Smut, cheating, oral sex, praise kink, fingering, getting caught, etc.

Author Note: I LOVEEE THIS IDEA!! I chose Nam-gyu as bf bc their beef in the show ITS JUST PERFECT that she wants to steal u from him!!! I’m really not good at writing bimbo! Reader so sorry abt that! Sorry if theres any mistakes!! I kinda hate the ending…

★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆

Se-mi knew it was wrong.

You were Nam-gyu’s girlfriend, not hers. But she couldn’t help herself, you were too hot for Nam-gyu.

Yeah, you were naive, but she thought it was cute. Nam-gyu didn’t appreciate what good he had, he was so mean to you.

She seen it too, the way he spoke to you. You thought it was normal for boyfriends to treat their girlfriends that way so you never did anything about it.

But if Nam-gyu wouldn’t treat you right, Se-mi would. She could show you she’s better in one night.

Which is why she suggested they all have a ‘sleepover’ at Nam-gyu’s house.

The friend group thought it was a bit random but then they agreed that it actually sounded fun.

They all watched movies and played video games while you sat beside your boyfriend, simply looking pretty.

Se-mi kept glancing and staring over at you, the first time you caught her you waved at her.

When you waved she nodded her head upward and it made you feel funny inside.

You’d continue to catch her stares, you’d smile at her sweetly and she’d smirk as she looks away.

Soon she seen you yawn and tell Nam-gyu that you were going to his room to sleep.

She didn’t know how her plan would even work out but she knew you’d have to leave his room eventually, to use the restroom or go to the kitchen.

★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆

They all grow tired and she took the guest room while everyone else slept in the living room and Nam-gyu of course slept in his room with you.

She was right.

She heard some footsteps and she quickly got up and peeked out the door.

You turn to her, she looks down and checks you out, you were wearing a cute pink long sleeve shirt with white lace trim and some white pajama shorts.

“Hey.” Se-mi smirks, leaning on the door.

“Hi, Se-mi!” You smile, fiddling with your glass of water.

“Want to come inside so we can talk?” Se-mi knew you’d say yes, why wouldn’t you.

“Sure.” You smile, she lets you in and shuts the door behind you.

You set the glass of water down on the nightstand and sat on the guest bed.

You fold your leg onto the bed as she gets in the bed beside you, she gets very close.

She puts her hand on your thigh and when you turn to her, she smashes her lips against yours.

You hum, pulling back quickly. “Se-mi!” You gasp, standing up quickly.

“You-I…I’m with Nam-gyu.” You nervously said, she moves closer to the edge of the bed.

“I know.” She smirks, you were confused.

“Oh…so then why did you kiss me? I don’t want to cheat on my boyfriend!” You gasp.

“Oh, honey…it’s not cheating if we’re both girls.” She says, you hum.

“Wait, really?” You ask, tilting your head.

She pulls you closer by your hip, “Yeah, it has to be a guy to count as cheating.” She lies but you believed her of course.

“Oh, I didn’t know that!” You giggle, she hums. “Sit down.”

You sit beside her, her hands stay on her hips. “We’ll only do it this once, mhm? Neither of us should tell anyone.” You nod, and scoot closer.

She kisses you softly, you kiss her back this time, wow, she’s a great kisser.

She deepens the kiss and her hand reaches down and grabs your boob.

You pull back, “Shh, it’s okay. I can make you feel so good.” She quickly kisses you again.

You moan into the kiss as her other hand grabs your boob, she squeezed them both in her palms.

She pinches your nipple between her index and thumb and your mouth opens slightly, she slips her tongue into your mouth.

It was amazing. Nothing like with Nam-gyu at all. She knew what she was doing and she was really good at it.

She pulls back after a while and stood up, you watch her curiously as she grabs the waistband of your shorts and pulls them down.

You gasp lightly, “Is this okay?” She asks, you nod quickly and she smirks, taking your pink panties off and tossing them.

“I’m gonna make you feel way better than your boyfriend ever has.” She says, kissing down your thighs, it takes you a moment to process what she said.

“W-Wait, what?”

She looks up at you and her lips attach to your clit and start sucking on it.

“Oh, fuck! Se-mi!” You moaned loudly.

She shook her head and you don’t understand what she means by it as she keeps sucking and licking on your clit.

You moaned quite loudly, “Shut the fuck up.” She says against you.

“I-I can’t, it’s so fucking good.” You whimper, head falling back.

“Well, you better figure something out or everyone is going to hear.” She says, you grip her hair when she continued to suck your clit.

She’s using her tongue a lot and you moaned loudly, she reaches up and slaps her palm over your mouth, muffling your moans.

You moan into her hand and your thighs start to squeeze shut around her head and she pulls them apart with one of her hands.

You whimper into her hand and she rubs your inner thigh softly, “Shh, it’s okay, I got you.” She mutters into you.

You look down at her, hands gripping the sheets in your palms.

You moan as her tongue works magic on you and your back starts to arch and you push on her shoulder as you whine.

She nods into you and you cum on her tongue, she pulls back with a pant and you whine when she pulls her hand away from your mouth.

She crawls up to hover over you, “You’re so fucking gorgeous, especially when you cum.” She smirks, kissing down your neck.

She kisses your breasts, starting to suck the skin above your nipples.

“Se-mi, please…” You whine.

She reaches down, spreading your legs open more and her fingers tease your folds, you whimper.

“P-Please!” You whimper, she smirks and starts to suck your left nipple.

You feel her middle and ring finger slide into your folds slowly and you hiss.

“Oh, S-Se-mi!” You gasp, feeling full of her two long fingers.

She slowly pumps them in and out while you moan as she sucks your nipples.

She uses her other hand to grab your right boob and squeeze it, you moan.

“F-Faster, please, oh!”

She pumps faster and starts to curl her fingers into you, making you moan loudly.

“Oh, fuck! D-Don’t stop, r-right there!” You whimper, she smirks.

“Oh, yeah? You like that?”

You whined loudly, “I love it, Sem!”

She continued to speed up and curl her fingers, you grip her shoulder tightly, “F-Fuck!” You push on her shoulder.

“It’s too much, fuck…Se-mi it’s too much!” You whimper, she shushed you.

“Shh, it’s okay. Just go on and cum for me, i’ll make it all better, I promise.” She praises, you moaned as you feel yourself cum on her fingers.

You pant as she pulls back, pulling her fingers out of you and you shut your legs as she gets off of you, laying beside you.

You sat up on your elbows and put your bra and panties on before looking over at Se-mi, who laid beside you still fully dressed.

“Se-mi?” You mutter, she looks over at you. “Yeah?”

“Can I do you next? Please?” You ask, she smirks, nodding her head.

“Yeah, come here.” She hums as you crawl over, sitting between her now open legs.

You pull her sweatpants down, she helps you get them off and tosses them.

You look up at her and she nods, you pull her underwear down and toss them by her sweatpants.

“What should I do?” You ask, leaning closer to her.

“Go on, eat my pussy.” She pushes on your head, you look up at her nervously as you face her naked bottom.

“I never did this for a girl before…” You admit.

“I know, I know, it’s alright. Just do what feels right, i’ll tell you what feels good, mhm?”

You nod, leaning in to lick up her folds slowly, she groans.

You move up to her clit, sucking and licking on it just like she had did you before.

“Ah, fuck…that’s good, keep doing that.” She groans, you moan into her, going faster.

You suck on her clit hard, she groans loudly and grips your hair tightly, tugging it.

“Fuck, baby…don’t stop!” She hisses, hips bucking up into you, making you hum into her.

Then the door swings open.

“Baby?”

You pull back, turning to face the voice of your boyfriend as you wipe your lip, he looked angry and hurt.

“What the fuck are you doing?!”

“I-I was just…making Se-mi feel better���” You shrug, confused.

“Making Se-mi feel better? By cheating on me?” He shouts.

“I-I’m not cheating, babe!” You said, he scoffs as Se-mi gets her sweatpants on.

“Are you fucking dumb? You eating Se-mi out is cheating!” He hissed.

“I-I thought it wasn’t.” You glance at Se-mi who smirks who a shrug.

“Why the fuck whould it not be cheating?” Nam-gyu asks, you cross your arms.

“Well, Se-mi said it didn’t count if we were girls…” You said, Se-mi chuckles.

“Nam-gyu, I didn’t say that.”

You frown, looking back at your boyfriend. “Babe, i’m sorry, I didn’t know…”

“Yeah, whatever, just get out. I want both of you out.”

★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆ ★ ☆

[octuscle]

Welcome to Red Hook

Leander and Frederick were sure they had reached their destination. Leander had inherited some money and here in Red Hook in Dutchess County they seemed to have found what they were looking for. A small-town idyll, not unreachably far from Manhattan, but still in another world. The old hardware store was perfect for their plans. They could turn the store into a café and the workshop behind it into a Pilates studio. The two of them would bring a bit of civilization to the wasteland. And they could turn Leander's great-uncle's house into a piece of jewelry. Much nicer and bigger than anything they could have afforded in Red Hook, Brooklyn.

The first evening on the veranda was wonderful. Tomorrow they would start clearing out the hardware store and workshop and then they could start renovating. They were full of energy! Frederick came back early in the morning from his run. He had picked up some bread rolls and told them about the gym he had discovered. Until they had their own Pilates studio, there was definitely an alternative way to stay in shape. And if they searched a little more, they would also find a store selling good bitter orange marmalade and decent sparkling mineral water. After all, they weren't in the wilderness. And if need be, there was always the internet.

After breakfast, they went to the hardware store. They wanted to start clearing out. Some of the shelves were already quite thin. But the store was basically still operational. A little dusty, perhaps. But somehow, as if someone had simply closed up shop yesterday and locked up. The doorbell rang. “Hey man, are you open again? I need two rolls of barbed wire.” Leander said he had no idea, but the man knew exactly where to find what he was looking for. Leander looked questioningly when the man wanted to pay. He found a price list. The next customer came into the store. Frederick and Leander had their hands full. But they gained an overview faster and faster. The till wasn't that complicated. Fortunately, the warehouse was tidy. They would just have to order new goods soon if sales continued like this. When Leander finally had a quiet minute, he looked around for Frederick. He was standing at the back of the store talking to a customer who was obviously interested in a chainsaw. And Frederick, who hadn't even been able to hold a hammer properly before, was talking shop as if he had never done anything else before. Frederick chimed in with the customer and the two of them headed towards the till. “So, Steve, what are Kate and the kids doing?” asked Frederick. Leander couldn't believe his ears. Did they know each other? And where from?

The day had been exhausting. But they had made good sales. Frederick swept out the store, Leander checked what needed to be reordered. The two of them were hungry. Shopping and cooking was definitely too strenuous for them now. They hadn't eaten here yet. There was the Brigitte Bistro, but that seemed too fancy for them. They were dirty and sweaty and didn't feel like changing. The diner seemed more suitable. And they would find something vegetarian there.

In fact, it was more difficult than he had thought. Leander ordered a Greek salad with a glass of Pino Grigio. With a slightly pained smile, he looked at Frederick and wondered what he would choose. He ordered the Red Hook Burger with a portion of fries and a Budweiser. Leander no longer understood the world. Not yet. He changed his mind. Also a beer, not a white wine. The beer was delicious. The second one too. Buck and Hunter sat down with them. Frederick talked to them about football as if he'd never done anything else. And even though he had no idea why he was doing it, at some point Leander asked if they wanted a smoke outside. Frederick grinned, took a pack of cigarettes out of his jacket and said that he had been worried that he would never ask again.

The alarm clock rang at 05:00. Frederick was already awake. Probably running. Leander looked in the fridge. Thank God there were still enough eggs and bacon. He made breakfast and had just finished when Leander pulled into the driveway with the pickup. His sweaty tank top was tucked into the back of his sweat shorts. His upper body was still sweaty from training. He hugged Leander tightly and gave him a deep French kiss. Frederick stank of sweat and Leander got hard. And before they could even eat their scrambled eggs, Frederick fucked Leander on the kitchen table.

Frederick left straight after breakfast, still chewing. Leander tidied up and only then made his way to the store in his van. It was 7 a.m. when he set the neon sign to “we are open”. He could already hear the radio and metal banging from the back of the workshop. Frederick was obviously already at work. Even though they rarely saw each other during the day, it was good to know that the other was always just a few steps away. And when it was quiet for a few minutes, the two of them could smoke a cigarette together. And if the two of them were very ratty, the “Be right back” sign had to be put in the window.

Before they went to the diner to eat and watch football, Lee made Fred at least wash himself with a washcloth. He hadn't showered for two or three days now and was covered in oil from work. Very cool, Lee thought, but a little civilization was a must. And he would be able to use the time to have his beard trimmed. The barber store was about to close, but Pete would make an exception for his fiery red beard.

"Yo, can you believe livin' in the city?" Fred stared at the street, all deep and whatnot. It was a nice, warm summer night. Lee took a swig of beer and burped loud, like a champ. "Not a chance, man!" he shot back. "What the hell for?" "Damn, sometimes I think I should be doin' more than just twistin' my Harleys." "You ain't wrong, but why would you drag me into the city?" The two laughed boomingly. Yes, as the gay couple, they were a bit exotic in Red Hook. But apart from that, they just fit in here. Just a perfect match!

[hiwelcometothemonstersancturary]

Poppy Playtime: True Ending (all toys saved, all secrets founds)

Synopsis: Angel saved all the toys inside PlayCo, and is now sitting outside waiting for the authorities to appear. What will happen now? Warnings: Canon-typical violence. Story is in 2nd person but Angel is their own character here. THIS HAS NOT BEEN PROOFREAD SO THERE WILL BE ERRORS. Have fun, byeee.

You are shaking.

Granted, this is the first time in the last two weeks that you aren't trembling due to fear of being killed or due to the cold, but anxiety. You're scared, still riding off adrenaline and without any idea of what could happen now, and you are certain that in any moment, you'll end up dropping unconscious on the floor. And yet, you don't. You cannot, really, considering your situation.

You take a deep breath, the smell of smoke filling your senses. Despite your best efforts, your hands are still dirty with dried blood.

Dogday lies against you, eyes turned towards the Sun. His white pupils seem to be sparkling in amazement; this is the first time in more than a decade that he has seen the Sun. Maybe two, who knows, you're too tired to do the math. You scratch his head, but he doesn't look away from the sky. The beautiful open sky. You had taken it for granted a few times in your life. Only a few. Never again. Never again...

Kissy is on your right side, anxiously holding your arm. Poppy is on your lap, still holding your Nokia phone and telling the kind 911 operator of your situation. You wonder how anxious she would be feeling if you were the one talking there... She was at the verge of tears before speaking up. "Understood, miss", she tells the second normal human she ever interacted with in the past decade. "Please warn them to be careful, we went through a lot and don't want to deal with even more".

You scratch her head. Huggy is next to your rundown car, on the other side of the parking lot, the mini critters and wuggies running around. Some of them grab the leaves and jump at the newfound texture. Others try digging in the dirt. One of them points at the car and ask each other how they can disassemble it. Catnap, standing right next to them, shakes his head. "This belongs to our Savior".

Baba is also sitting next to you. She watches over the mini nightmares debating over something you don't fully understand, as some of them climb over Catnap. He doesn't mind the act. Doey, on the other hand...

You stare at him. Little Simon is still sleeping on his arms, too anxious to join the others. Doey adjusts his own hat, his eyes going from corner to corner, especially towards where the little ones of Safe Haven are. Marie is taking good care of them, sitting on the concrete floor as they analyze flowers. Delight is next to her, tilting her head in curiosity as a centipede crawls over her hands, eyes sparkling. "This is fascinating!", she announces, happily stimming with her feet.

"... Doey?"

You reach your hand to him. He flinches before blinking, taken out of his trance. Upon noticing your worried stare, he forces a smile on his face: "I'm okay, Angel, no need to worry about me".

"And what about the other two?", you ask again, not letting go of him.

He's once again caught off-guard. You thought that by this point, the three kids would have gotten used to being equally acknowledged. Guess there's still work to be done, but we'll be alright. We have time, now. Just enough time.

"We're fine", Kevin grunts, looking away.

"Just tell me when it's too much, alright, kiddos? Don't want the sirens to scare you guys. They sound similar to the stuff back at PlayCo."

"I said we're fine", and there goes that familiar growl. "Shoosh, leave them".

"Matthew, let Kevin speak. It's okay for him to be upset".

"We can't scare the others"

"The others would like for all three of you to speak a bit", you reply, shaking your head. "Including Jack. Is he alright?"

"...", Doey shakes, before timidly nodding and fidgeting with his hands. "... I am".

You give him a smile. Dogday bumps his head against his shoulder, and Jack relaxes, his tense body softening. He repeats the gesture towards the critter, confirming that he'll be alright.

Pianosaurus and Yarnaby then bump their heads against your legs, both of them with plants hanging out from their mouths. Poppy jumps on your lap: "Thank you for the... Bouquet", you tell them, accepting the offering. Yarnaby purrs as a response, sitting on the ground. "Ollie, ya okay, kid?"

The baby long legs stares at you with that very, very energetic look of his, wrapped around a blanket and shaking in his lone seat next to yours. "It's fucking cold", he growls, grumpy as ever.

"Language!", Dogday warns him.

"We're not inside PlayCo. anymore, we can say whatever we want now, you dingus".

"Please don't have another argument before we arrive at the hospital", you ask the duo, sighing again. "... Want another blanket, Ollie?"

"I want a warm room away from this cold, that's what I want".

"Wait an hour or two, then".

"Urgh".

"You welcome".

You close your eyes, feeling the Sun against your skin. The Prototype's words echo in your head, the promise you two made still there:

These kids shall be safe and happy.

You can still hear the mechanical sounds his legs made when he walked. A part of you swears that it can feel him watching over your bunch from inside the factory, despite the cameras outside not being functional anymore. You don't doubt he would be capable of finding a way to watch the scene, though.

You stare at the burning parts of the factory in the background, and, before you can start doubting if this will grab the authorities' attention, you hear sirens in the background.

Cop sirens, to be exact.

Poppy looks up to you, Doey jumps on his seat, and you put the doll on Kissy's lap before jumping over Yarnaby:

"KIDS!", you call the others. "EVERYBODY, GET BACK THERE, THEY'RE COMING!"

Just one word:

FUCK.

Why did it have to be the COPS the first people to pop up, and not a fucking ambulance?! Fuckfuckfuckfuck. Just. Shit. FUCK (again). You are so, SO fucking lucky sometimes, urgh. Let's hope they don't scare the kids even more.

Huggy, Catnap, Marie and Doey help you retrieve the chaos gremlins back to the group. You count: All +100 of them are there, with no exceptions. You hold Doey's face and tell him to remain strong, you tell Kissy and Huggy that they have nothing to fear with you around, you assure Marie and Catnap don't make a murder plan, and you sit back on your seat.

The first car that appears makes your stomach curl. You stare at it, unmoving. The tension is palpable. The kids are anxious, terrified and horrified when the two cops get out of the car and turn to you.

You stare at them, suddenly more aware than ever that you have visible blood stains on your clothes and you must be looking like hell, and they stare at you in silence, approaching with their mean looks. Poppy moves on your seat, clinging to you even more, her call having just ended.

You stare at the cops again.

The cops stare at you again.

You bite your tongue. They aren't approaching you anymore, instead, stopping several meters away from your group, wide-eyed, and then you realize that they aren't reaching for their guns.

Finally, you roll your eyes:

"Do we have a problem here, officer?"

The guy you think is the oldest of the duo, a pale man with sunken brown eyes, seems taken completely off-guard for a moment. Bunzo clings to your leg, anxious. PJ Pug-a-Pillar tilts his head in curiosity, and you notice that Delight is waving at the duo.

"W...", the younger man's voice fails him. "What the-"

"Don't ya finish that sentence, there's kids there", you grunt, noticing the other cars appearing. "We need as many ambulances as possible, now. The kids needs medical attention".

"What happened there?", the officer demands, and his eyes go to the very much still burning piece of factory. You glance back at it for a moment before returning your attention to him.

"Executives", you shrug, aaaand more people pop out of the cars. "Tell your friends to back off, it's been a decade since these kids saw other people, and they bite".

"This is private property. What are you doing here?"

Private property, private property my fucking ass- "get your friends to back off, or else I won't say shit to you".

"You have no right-"

"Mister Officer, please, you must listen!"

You would have laughed at the guy's face upon seeing Poppy getting up from your seat. Catnap growls as a response to his voice tone, and you don't know if it's the sound he makes or his movements, but it seems convincing enough for the asshole to actually back off, and actually and properly inform the rest of the group to not approach.

"Thank you", Poppy mutters.

"Don't thank him", you scratch her head. "I am in private property because the owner of this frickin' place invited me in because he and these kids were stuck in there for the past decade. I need a dang ambulance for once".

"And who is the owner?"

You almost say Elliot Ludwig, but even your own tolerance for absurdity isn't high enough to buy that one. So you bite your tongue, you stay on your seat, and you hear more sirens echoing in the background.

"Long ass story", you mutter, before getting up, bag on one hand, Poppy in another.

You have no idea how or why, but the officer almost doesn't react when you approach him. His friend places a hand on his gun, but you don't react either, merely giving him the heavy bag.

"These are the documents", you tell him, watching the ambulances arrive.

"Did you steal these documents?"

"They were given to me", you half-lie, half-tell the truth.

"I'll have to ask you to follow me, ma'am, and tell me why there's a fire happening in an abandoned factory".

"W-wait, no!", Poppy desperately stares at you, wide-eyed. "T-they can't go, we need them!"

You merely unzip your jacket, exposing your very much still bleeding out shoulder and your very much still soaked in blood torso, and shrug.

You see people coming out of the ambulances. Bunzo runs to you, grabbing your leg as he stares at the officer, wide-eyed. "I-I won't let you take mama away!"

Well, there goes the cop's control of the situation, because now some of the minis also approach you, clinging to both your legs and back, and you know they look too realistic and move too naturally for them to be animatronics or robots. Other cops start moving to approach you, and you...

Yawn.

Damn, you're tired as hell-

A guy presents himself as the lieutenant, and another as the deputy chief. You tilt your head. Looks like your way of grabbing attention may have worked too well...

Marie's hand grabs your good shoulder. You don't react to her staring at the group, merely waiting for your permission to probably kill them or something worse. Despite what you wish you can do, you merely hold her hand. The deputy chief grabs the bag, and stares at the nurses who just got out of the ambulance before petting the shoulders of the first officer.

"Looks like we got big fish in our hands", he tells the guy. Uhm. Okay. "Go take these things to the ambulance. Let us handle the rest".

You blink, remembering what the Prototype told you about many people knowing about what PlayCo. was doing, but never doing anything about it. You stare at the man's eyes, and you aren't very good with judging people by looks but your stomach curls around itself, and you know one damn thing.

He stares at you with a certain disdain and hatred in his eyes. You smile. You hear a helicopter approaching, alongside a van from a news report. Your smile widens, a shit eating grin that goes from ear to ear as you realize who has the power over the situation.

"Looks like the mess you ignored finally caught up to you, eh, officer?"

You turn your back to the group, unafraid. "W-what's going on, Angel?", Dogday asks on his seat, terrified, as you put Poppy on his lap.

"Oh, a lot", you now grab your actual backpack, reaching for your water bottle as the kids stare at you, anxious. "A whole, whooole lot".

"What are they going to do?", Marie asks in a whisper. "Should we...?"

"Nope. We aren't killing anyone, pirralhada", you take a generous sip of water. "We just hit the jackpot".

You hear the number of people growing in the background. Good thing you told the kids to keep themselves quiet, and even better thing that they are listening.

"We're going to take whatever remains of PlayCo. down. And, most importantly, we'll make sure the people who didn't help you guys pay. But, right now?"

You turn towards the humans again.

"Right now, we gotta go to the hospital".