#duck game worker

[lookslikethatsallthetimewehave]

I just remembered I had a dream two nights ago where I was Edgar, trying to help out at the carnival. I accidentally popped the Duck Game's pool and Raven picked me up and dropped me in town and was like, "go find something else to do while we work". 

[unpopularvivian]

RW Edward: *Is playing Rush E on violin 🎻*

RW James: *Playing Rush E on piano with Edward*

Everyone: 🫨🤯

*MC Gordon then joins in with his own piano and also starts playing Rush E*

*And then MC Duck plays the song on his cello and more and more people start playing their instruments and well.... It turned into a musical frenzy!*

All of the non musical people: EH?!!? EHEH?!?! EHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH-

[saymio]

The Salesman headcanons | (NSFW)

Pairing: The Salesman x Fem!reader

Genre: headcanons, smut

Warning: dead dove do not eat, manipulation, stalking+kidnapping, dub/noncon, DDLG, age gap, might be more but im too lazy to write it down

A/N: not proof read. classes started again so I'm taking longer to write, enjoy my hc's while u wait for a longer fic.

The Salesman, the man that found you sitting on a bench all alone crying in the middle of the night. he couldn't help but feel pity for you, like you were a puppy that was left alone out in the rain.

The Salesman, the man that came home late from doing his usual recruiting, feeling his pants getting tighter and tighter every time he replays your bloodshot eyes and shaky pathetic voice.

The Salesman, the man that decides he wants to stalk your every move after he saw you crying all alone. watching you as you try looking for places that would accept you as a worker, or when you pleasure yourself. watching through your open blinds.

The Salesman, the man that will record you while you change, sleep, and do other things around your house. jerking off to your unsuspected body, who would assume a creep was watching them through their window?

The Salesman, the man that gets front row tickets to your freak out. he sent a couple of photos he took of you sleeping to your phone number and now you're frantically running around the house. locking all your doors, windows and covering any opening you could think of. God, you looked so small and weak when you were scared.

The Salesman, the man that met eyes with you while you stood in front of a brightly lit love motel. his jaw clenching and eyes filled with rage, what were you doing here? its obvious you're a virgin, just one look at you and he could probably recite your entire life story. so why were you trying to meet up with someone here? were you going to fuck a stupid child? a boy your age doesn't know how to make a girl feel good...you need an older man to help you..

The Salesman, the man that had kidnapped you in broad 'daylight'. right infront of the motel, right infront of dozens of cameras. watching you squirming body and tears run down your face..but you cant say a word because you mouth has been duck taped shut.

The Salesman, the man that feels a strong urge to just keep you safe. to protect you from the world and let you stay home to do nothing. And the only way you'll be safe is if you stay with him. forever.

The Salesman, the man that will force you onto his cock with no remorse as you yell in pain. you've never had something this big so it feels like you've been split in half...he loves it. he loves your pain.

The Salesman, the man that will treat you like your a stupid child. petting your head and rubbing your cheek while he slowly explains the rules of the game he wants to play with you. like if he were to speak faster you'd get confused.

The Salesman the man that sets you loose in an abandoned warehouse. telling you if you hide for 2 hours without getting touched you win..and get to go home without any more abuse to your hole.

The Salesman, the man that caught you only 2 minutes before the timer went out. dark eyes piercing into yours as he smiles a creepy wide grin. "caught you~"

The Salesman, the man that enjoys your shaky eyes and rapid breathing when he finds you. he thinks its funny, you probably think he's going to kill you. but he wants to do worse

The Salesman, the man that will tie you up to a large bed. items laid out on a desk next to him...the prize for the salesman when he wins was he gets to pick what he can use on you.. he picked a whip, knife, and..his own dick.

The Salesman, the man that whips your body until youre screaming in pain and begging him to let you go...but he only gets worse as his boner gets more prominent against his slacks.

The Salesman, the man that carves "daddies slut" onto your right thigh. licking the blood that dripped down your thighs as he did so.

The Salesman, the man that will make you call him dad and daddy. he finds it so cute how your little voice says it. like a scared little girl calling out for her dad...

The Salesman, the man that drops you off right where he found you. you just had new bruises and cuts now.

Another note: I hope you guys liked this one hshsh, I'm working on a noeul fic rn. idk when it'll come out doe.. T T T T

TAGLIST: @pollys-doublelife @gongyoosgf

[invincibledc]

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁#FAIR AMUSEMENT. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

⭑.ᐟPair: Damian Wayne x Roth! Male reader

ᯓ★Summary: The small Roth spending time with the small Wayne, the two boys start to have fun until Damian gets annoyed at seeing a boy acting a little too “friendly” with the raven he finds beautiful.

ᯓ★Note || Y/N is the little brother of Raven, hero name is Corvus. The Latin name for Raven.

ᯓ★WC: 613

a rewrite of this

"Roth," Damian says, glancing at the boy in front of him as he walks ahead with palpable excitement. "Huh? Sorry, Damian, what were you saying?" Y/N responds, noting the familiar frown on Damian's face. "Why are you so enthusiastic about...amusement?" he remarks, and Y/N pouts in response.

"Damian, I'm excited because I'm spending this time at the fair with you! I’ve never really had fun at a fair, or is it an amusement park? I honestly can’t tell the difference," Y/N admits with a light chuckle. Damian looks away, feeling warmth creep to his face as he clenches his jaw. "Hey! Niños, don’t wander too far!" Jaime calls out, noticing that the two boys have drifted away from the group. Garfield is already off, likely stirring up trouble or racking up tickets.

"Got it! C'mon, Damian, I heard there's a game where you shoot at fake ducks to win a huge stuffed animal!" Y/N exclaims. Damian maintains his stoic expression, attempting to conceal his intrigue, though his eyes betray him. Y/N’s focus shifts to the surrounding attractions—cotton candy, loud music—yet Damian knows the boy is eager for the shooting game, so he leads him on their "quest."

When they finally arrive at the game stand, the vibrant lights and colors ignite Y/N's enthusiasm. Time slows as Y/N turns to him, leaving Damian in a state of unexpected awe. Is this what those main characters in sappy romance movies experienced during slow-motion scenes? Yes, this is exactly how he feels. With excitement, Y/N points to a large penguin. "Look! They have a huge stuffed animal, just like I said!" Damian crosses his arms loosely. "I see it, Roth."

Without hesitation, Y/N eagerly grabs the shotgun. After handing over the money, Y/N begins, though struggles to hold the gun steady. The worker at the counter seems impatient. Damian shoots an icy glare at the man, making his annoyance dissipate. Just then, another boy, roughly their age, approaches, attempting to guide Y/N.

Damian's eyes narrow; he doesn't like the way the boy is looking at Y/N. Crossing his arms, he glares until the boy leans in to whisper something, prompting Y/N to chuckle. That’s it—Damian makes his move, stepping in and positioning himself behind Y/N. He places his hands on Y/N’s arms, ensuring they’re readied to aim at the ducks.

“Y/N, focus on the ducks. Shoot.” You comply instantly, and Damian can’t help but smirk at your success. As you win the penguin, he steps back, but not before indulging in a little pettiness of his own by trying the game himself. With perfect aim, he shoots and wins another penguin. Y/N's eyes widen in admiration while Damian notices the other boy scoffing and walking away. With a self-satisfied swagger, Damian wraps an arm around Y/N, who beams while hugging the two winning penguins.

“Best night ever!” Y/N declares as they climb back into the car with the team. Garfield is already snoozing, Jaime not far behind. Kory drives, with your sister in the passenger seat. Raven glances back, a smile creeping onto her face as she sees Y/N's joy. "Little crow, where did you get those?" she asks softly.

"I won one for myself with Damian's help. But he got me another one," you reply, grinning. As you lean against Damian, he initially stiffens but soon relaxes, a smile hidden by his hand. He stares out the window, captivated by his own reflection.

"That was generous of you, Damian. Thank you," Raven says, her tone warm. Damian simply hums in response, still lost in thought as he reflects on the happiness of the moment. And in that instant, he feels a sense of satisfaction too.

[prettycopperpennies]

They React To You Voting X

GN! Reader Oneshots including

x Thanos/Choi Su Bong/Player 230, x Lee Myung-gi/Player 333, x Kang Dae-ho/Player 388

Description: After making an ally in the first game it is now time to vote, but how will your ally think of you voting X? (this can either be read as a stand alone oneshot or as a second part to this previous post).

Warnings: None

Thanos/Choi Su Bong/Player 230

As the significantly smaller group of people walked back to the room after the first game Thanos, seemingly officially an ally, stuck by your side. His lips moved silently as he rapped to himself, not noticing how shell shocked you were. As soon as you sat on one of the metal steps, you could feel your body fold into yourself. You could not believe what just happened out there.

“I think we were one of the first across,” Thanos bragged to you as he sat down next to you.

You didn’t answer, not really hearing him as he spoke to you. He noticed your wide eyes fixed on the ground in front of you with a far off look. He leaned over towards you, his shoulder bumping against yours.

“Hey, are you good?” he asked, dipping his head in an attempt to meet your eyes with his own.

His close proximity pulled you out of your own world, but it did nothing to ease the worries rushing through you. He couldn’t stop his expression from mirroring your own as your head turned towards him. He frowned when he realized how upset you were. 

His finger went to his cross as he said, “You know, if you’re nervous one of these could help yo-”

He was interrupted by pink guards entering the room and everyone gasping and ducking away from the armed triangle workers, you among them. Thanos leaned forward in interest, simultaneously blocking you from the eyeline of the guards as you shrunk back further in fear. They assured the players they weren’t here to “eliminate” anyone else at that moment, nor were they the ones collecting on everyone’s debt. Instead they were here to announce the results of the game.

Thanos’ eyes doubled in size as he watched the stacks of money drop into the piggy bank. You felt your stomach doing somersaults, not nearly as enraptured by the view as the lanky, purple-haired man beside you.

“See? Don’t stress. We didn’t do that game for nothing,” Thanos said in a futile attempt to comfort you.

“That’s not the problem, Thanos,” you said quietly.

He shook his head, not willing to understand what you were trying to get across.

“But I’m watching out for you,” he assured you, “So there is nothing to worry about. You don’t need to worry about them-”

He pointed a ringed finger towards the guards before continuing.

“Or any of them.”

He pointed towards the group of players looking up at the piggy bank.

“And now we don’t have to worry-”

His eyes drifted back up to the ceiling where the piles of cash were suspended.

“About money either.”

The guards started to speak, explaining a vote was going to be held between the players. They were offering a choice: stay or go. As the two of you stood up and waited for your number to be called you knew exactly what you wanted, and with a sinking feeling you knew what the player next to you wanted too.

“We should vote the same, yeah? Since we’re allies?” Thanos said, turning to you. Apparently, he was thinking the very same thing as you.

“Um,” you said, your shyness overpowering you.

You felt a blush creep up on your cheeks as he flung an arm around your shoulders and pulled you in a little.

“Vote O and I’ll tell you a secret,” he said with a smile, trying to tempt you over to his side.

“A secret?” you asked, doubting someone this outgoing and seemingly open really had that many secrets. Less than an hour ago he was openly taking drugs right in front of you.

“It’s a good one,” he whispered, ducking down close to you so you could hear him over the din of people moving around. His number was called and he gave your shoulder a squeeze before leaving you to vote O. He turned back, giving you a cocky wink, before joining the other O’s.

You felt your heart pound as your own number was called. You knew how Thanos wanted you to vote, and he wasn’t the only one. There were a lot of players voting O, but you hoped maybe the tides would turn. One game was enough for you.

Thanos gave a defeated huff as you voted X. He watched you walk to the other side of the room, waiting for you to glance over to him. But you avoided his eyes, instead watching the votes slowly grow on the board. He desperately tried to catch your gaze, wanting to talk to you. But unfortunately for him, you two had to keep to your sides as the vote crept on.

The vote was over and the O’s had won. You walked over to the bed you had woken up in earlier this day. You had a sinking feeling you would be stuck here longer than you thought, and unfortunately you had just gotten rid of your one ally. You were just laying down when someone spoke up in the bed next to you.

“So do you not care about any of us?” the player asked, glaring at you from the mattress they sat on.

“What?” you asked worriedly as you sat back up.

“Some of us have some serious debt, you know. And here all you X’s are,  not really caring what kind of world you are putting us back into if these games end and we don’t make enough money,” they snarled.

“No I- I didn’t mean to put anyone in danger. I just think place this isn’t safe either, and I don’t want anyone getting hu-”

“It gets a little hard and you just run away, is that it?” they asked.

“Back off,” a deep voice said, and soon Thanos was walking up the steps, getting between you and the player accusing you. They took in his tall stature and decided to listen, getting up with a scoff before walking away. Thanos watched with a glare as they retreated. As soon as they left he placed his hand on the top of the bed frame before leaning down to your eye level.

“They’re right, you know,” he told you, his signature cocky smirk absent from his face.

“What do you mean?” you asked.

“The life waiting for me out there isn’t exactly a happy one,” he explained.

“We could die in here. Any life is better than none,” you said, desperately hoping your one ally could see your side.

He shook his head with a sigh before speaking up again, “Agree to disagree.”

“Is that your secret?” you asked, your voice quiet.

Thanos felt his heart thud as you looked at him with worry. Nobody cared about him quite like this before, and you were basically a stranger. He decided he couldn’t leave someone as sweet as you to the wolves, no matter how you voted.

“Nah,” he said, a small smirk turning a corner of his mouth.

You noticed that half smile, hoping against hope maybe the two of you could still stick together for the games even though you didn’t agree.

“So, what is your secret?” you asked.

 You absentmindedly leaned forward, your curiosity taking over. Thanos felt his heartbeat quicken once again as you shrunk the distance between the two of you. He wasn’t used to being so nervous around a girl like this. He found the nerves somehow bolstered his ego and he decided to mirror you, leaning towards you till the two of you were only inches apart. As he moved, you finally realized just how close the two of you had become. You blushed as his lips broke into a full smile.

“Don’t you wish you knew,” he said, then with a click of his tongue continued on, “Too bad you won’t hear it. At least this time.”

With that he reached a hand out, tapping a finger twice against the red patch on your jacket. Clearly, he was not above bribery.

Lee Myung-gi/Player 333

As everyone filtered back into the main room after the first game you finally realized just how exhausted all the stress had left you feeling. You were ready to lay down and just crash, but as you approached your bed you realized all your “neighbors” hadn’t made it through. You felt tears start to prick at your eyes as you looked at your singular state. 

Myung-gi hadn’t walked in with you, but he had kept an eye out for you since the first game ended. He watched you crawl into your bed, also noticing the emptiness of the other beds around you just as you had. He saw you suddenly ducking your head to your chest. He subconsciously leaned forward from where he sat, watching your hand occasionally wipe across your cheek. 

He sighed to himself, as if he should have expected this. It didn't help that even before the first game he had decided you were one of the more fragile players. 

You were cursing the lack of privacy in this place, trying to hide the tears slipping down your cheeks the best you could. Apparently, you weren’t doing a very good job of it because soon someone was standing beside your bed. You looked up, spotting Myung-gi looking down at you.

He felt a little twinge of worry as your red rimmed eyes looked back into his, “Are you okay, y/n?”

“Of course,” you said, hurriedly trying to wipe the tears that wouldn’t stop coming. 

Myung-gi glanced around the room, trying to gauge if anyone else was noticing your crying. He was a little paranoid that someone might think of you as vulnerable if they saw and would come after you in the next game (ignoring the fact it was the very reason he decided to offer himself as your ally). You noticed him looking around and did the same. You tried to quell the tears, but you just couldn't seem to calm down.

“I’m sorry, I just-”

“You don’t need to apologize,” he said. 

He offered his hand towards you. You took it, and he gently pulled you off the bed and onto the step beside it. He stepped in front of you, blocking you from the view of the rest of the room.

“Just take a beat,’ he suggested.

You nodded, taking a few deep breaths. You felt your nerves start to calm, although you weren’t sure it was the calm breathing. Your anxiety quieted as Myung-gi kept you away from prying eyes. 

After a few moments those damned tears finally stopped. Myung-gi sat down beside you, smiling to himself when he heard you try to steady your breath; it was still hitching in your throat every so often after all the crying.

“Sorry. It was all those empty beds, and then I started to feel all alone, and-”

As you tried to explain, your voice wavered. You were just about to start crying again when Myung-gi spoke up, “You know, there’s an empty space below my bunk.”

You gave him a hopeful look, not confident enough to invite yourself to take up the bed (even though it was clearly what he had been insinuating).

He waited a few moments for you to say something, but he realized after a bit you weren’t going to speak up, and so he continued, “It might be better for you to hang out there instead of by yourself here.”

“Thanks,” you said, feeling a flood of relief.

“We’re allies, we’ve got to stick together,” he said with a casual shrug, but he couldn’t stop his chest from puffing up a little when you gave him a smile.

A group of pink guards entered the room, putting an end to your conversation. Myung-gi stood up once again, keeping you behind him as the jumpsuited group approached people. Soon people were begging the guards to give them a chance to pay off their debts, getting in front of them on their knees.

 Your own anxiety took over, and you moved to join them. Begging for forgiveness seemed better to you than just waiting for them to end you instead. As soon as you stood up Myung-gi grabbed your wrist, stopping you.

“Hang on,” he said, his focus on the guards who seemed to be trying to talk over the crying players.

Soon they explained they were simply here to share the effects of the game, and to conduct a vote. You were watching the money fall into the piggy bank, but Myung-gi was thinking about the aforementioned vote. He knew as he watched those bills fill up the clear container it would not be enough.

You made a move to stand and join everyone else gathering to vote when Myung-gi took a knee in front of where you sat, stopping you from getting up just yet. He grabbed both your hands in his, keeping steady eye contact with you.

“How are you going to vote?” he asked, already knowing the answer.

“What do you mean? Don’t you want to go home?” you asked, surprised he even needed to ask.

“Of course I do, but…” he said, trailing off as he tried to find a way to put it. He gave your hands a squeeze as he spoke up again, trying to convey how serious he was, “Listen, I know that looks like a lot of money, but when it’s divided among everyone it won’t amount to barely anything.”

“I don’t care,” you said, tears once again pricking at the corner of your eyes.

“We’ve got each other, right? With an ally we’ve got an advantage compared to everyone else. We can easily make it through one more game,” he said to you, trying to convince you. 

You nervously chewed the inside of your cheek, now feeling much more unsure of what you should do in this next moment. He noticed you starting to waver and spoke up one more time, pulling you in slightly as he did.

“I’ve got you. I promise,” he said, speaking much quieter as if what he said was only meant for you to hear, despite there not being anyone else by you.

“All players please come onto the floor,” a guard said from their spot in the front of the room, looking over in the direction of the two of you.

Myung-gi let go of your hands with a tense sigh before letting you start down the steps in front of him. As the two of you waited for your own numbers to be called his eyes continued to flick over to you, trying to read your expression.

You were called up first, and you couldn’t bear to look over at Myung-gi before walking down the path between the small groupings of O voters and X voters. Myung-gi felt his shoulders drop a little as the tally changed. You had voted X. Your own shoulders dropped just the same as his when just a few minutes later he voted O. You both somehow managed to disappoint the other.

As the voting concluded, you fell into a quiet despair. You couldn't believe the O’s had won. You walked dejectedly to your empty bunk, wanting to just sleep your sinking feeling off. You were stopped in your tracks by your previous ally.

“I thought you might change your mind,” Myung-gi admitted.

“I thought you’d change yours too,” you said. Once again, those stupid waterworks started up and a few tears leaked out of the corners of your eyes.

Myung-gi felt a wave of guilt as he watched you start to cry. He knew this time it was partly his fault, and he found himself hating being the reason you were upset. He had to stop himself from reaching out and wiping the tears off your cheek. Instead, he just stood in front of you, desperately trying to think of some way to make it all better.

“I just want to go home, Myung-gi,” you said, your voice cracking a little as you tried to keep your composure.

“I’ll make sure you get home,” he said without thinking, making promises he couldn't keep. Anything to get you to stop hurting.

“Then why did you vote X?” you asked helplessly.

“I told you, I can’t go just yet. That’s not enough,” he said, pointing up to the barely filled piggy bank.

“Fine,” you said with a sniff, side stepping around him.

He followed you like a dog with its tail tucked between its legs, wracked with guilt.

“It’s not like I want to stay here,” he said, trying to explain.

You stopped and turned on your heels, coming face to face with him. You fixed him with a glare, but with your tear stained cheeks and naturally soft demeanor you couldn’t quite pull off being intimidating.

“But apparently you don’t want to leave either,” you said.

As unintimidating as you were, Myung-gi still felt a wave of shame. He couldn’t bear to keep looking into your red-rimmed eyes and instead let you walk away. As you both went to your separate sides of the room, he couldn’t stop his gaze from drifting over to you.

You had laid down, pulling the covers over your head at a futile attempt of some privacy. Anxiety poked at him as you laid there, not even bothering to get up to eat. At lights out Myung-gi stayed up, his nerves not letting him sleep knowing you were by yourself, completely vulnerable. Instead, he stayed up all night, watching over you from across the room, making sure nothing happened to you. He meant what he said, he was getting you home.

Kang Dae-ho/Player 388

Dae-ho clearly wanted you as an ally, sticking beside you since the first game. The two of you were more than a little shocked with the events that had just played out. The two of you were sitting on one of the many steps among the bunk beds, trying to process everything. Dae-ho glanced over to you, noticing you subconsciously pulling at a loose thread on your sleeve. He reached out, his fingers just barely grazing across your hand.

The gesture managed to focus the anxious thoughts clouding your brain, and finally you stopped picking at the thread. You looked over to Dae-ho, who was giving you a comforting smile.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

You were silent for a moment, not sure how to answer that. You found yourself getting pulled back into your mind, terrifying images flashing through your brain. Dae-ho noticed your eyes start to glaze over. He shifted his foot, nudging at your own foot. You blinked, once again finding yourself having to be pulled out of your own thoughts.

“Sorry. I just… I don’t know. I guess I’m okay. Or maybe… Not?” you asked, trying so hard to find the words.

“Yeah,” he agreed with a solemn nod.

The two of you fell into another silence, unsure of what to say to each other. Dae-ho noticed Player 456 sitting and talking to another player. He sat up a little straighter, trying to get a better look.

“That’s the player who knew what was going to happen, right?” he asked, nodding with his head in the player’s direction.

“Yeah, I think so,” you said.

Dae-ho seemed lost in thought for a few moments before speaking up again.

“What if we join him and his friend?” he said, sounding a little excited at the prospect of growing your group of two.

You felt your nerves rise up at the suggestion. It wasn’t a bad idea. Actually, you knew it was a really good one. But you were never good at making friends. Your shy nature always seemed to ruin every social interaction you had ever tried for, not including the interaction between you and the man sitting next to you at that very moment (but that was only thanks to him). You thought of all the ways you could mess up when talking to possible new allies, fidgeting once again with the new string as you did.

Dae-ho watched you attentively, easily reading the stress in your expression. He moved a little closer, his shoulder gently bumping into yours. As soon as you turned towards him, he gave you a reassuring smile. You tried your best to smile back, but in truth you were worried about ruining his shot at getting more allies.

“Maybe, you should go by yourself,” you said.

As soon as he heard your suggestion his smile fell. You couldn’t stand to see him look so dejected, and you cast your eyes to the ground.

“Yeah, sure,” he said with a little nod. He moved back away from you, giving you space. He chastised himself in his head, thinking he must have clearly misread the situation.

“I will just mess it up for you,” you admitted.

Talking so frankly about your shortcomings left you feeling so embarrassed. You were glad you had already turned your head to keep your eyes facing the ground. That meant, at the very least, he couldn’t see the blush painting your cheeks. 

Dae-ho took a moment, letting your admission sink in. He started to laugh a little, in spite of himself. You looked up with confusion, and he cut his laughter short after seeing how red your cheeks were.

“Wait, oh, I didn’t mean to embarrass you,” he said, and without thinking he reached his hand out and brushed it across your flushed cheeks.

That gesture did calm your nerves a little, but did nothing to quell your blush.

“I just thought… I thought you were just trying to get rid of me,” he admitted with another laugh.

Your eyes widened as you spoke up, “No! I didn’t want to get rid of you! Honestly, I was giving you the choice to get rid of me, because I- Oh, god.”

You covered your face with your hands out of frustration with yourself.

“If it makes you feel any better, I’m definitely not planning on taking you up on that offer,” he said.

“I’m just going to mess everything up for you, trust me,” you muttered through your fingers.

“No, you’re not,” he said with a light hearted scoff.

“No, really. You need allies, and I-”

“I’m not leaving you behind! Besides, I’m not sure how you think you come off, but you’re actually pretty,” he just barely stopped himself from saying cute and instead said, “uh, charming.”

“Really?” you said, finally removing your hands from your face.

His breath hitched in his throat as he looked into your eyes, your cheeks still a little pink as your embarrassment slowly eased up. He could swear kindness was literally radiating off of you. To him, you glowed.

He was barely able to find his voice, taken completely by both the beauty on the inside and out. He was only able to answer with a quiet, simple, “Yeah.”

“Thanks,” you said with a grateful smile, “That’s really sweet of you.”

Before either of you could say another word the pink guards filtered into the rooms. Dae-ho instinctively put his arm out across you, protecting you just like he had in that first game. But soon you both realized they weren’t here to hurt you. They were only here to announce the results of the first game. 

You both turned your heads upwards to watch the money fall into the empty piggy bank. You couldn’t keep watching the money fall, knowing exactly what it represented. It was stomach churning, so when the guards announced a vote you knew exactly what vote you were casting.

“A vote?” Dae-ho said, sounding as hopeful as you felt. You both were practically sprinting down to the floor, not able to get the vote started soon enough.

Dae-ho leaned over to you as everyone chattered, milling around as they discussed what they were going to vote, “Let’s go home.”

You both pressed X, and Dae-ho found you among the group after he voted. He stood beside you, smiling once again. But it was a little more nervous than before. You felt your own anxiety peaking as the tally ticked up and up. You held your breath, so nervous to admit the X’s may not win.

“Why are people voting O?” you asked, not comprehending why anyone wanted to stay.

“I don’t know, but it’ll be okay,” Dae-ho answered, trying his best to reassure you.

“You sure?” you asked, more than willing to believe him despite the very real dangers you and him were both stuck in.

“Absolutely,” he told you with a definitive nod.

You both turned back to watch the vote continue on. As another player voted O, your hand subconsciously shot out and grabbed Dae-ho’s. He immediately gave your hand a gentle squeeze, knowing just how you felt. He held your hand through the entire vote, occasionally rubbing his thumb in a comforting circle whenever another O vote was cast.

You were crestfallen when you lost the vote, not at all sure what to do. Dae-ho was about to say something when you spoke up first.

“We need to talk to those other players,” you said, trying to muster a determination you never had when making friends.

You were filled with nerves, not at all giving a vibe of confidence, but Dae-ho was still impressed with you. He simply nodded, and not wanting to throw you off, he silently followed as you headed towards Player 456’s corner. He couldn’t help but smile when he saw you square your shoulders as you got closer. Despite not being able to see your expression, he knew you were trying to keep up your momentary confidence.

He also followed you, although with some confusion, when you suddenly made a hard right turn a few steps away from Player 456 and his friend. Instead you quickly climbed up to the bunk bed above them.

You cast your eyes down a little as Dae-ho followed suit. You both ended up sitting on a high up bed, you with very hot cheeks and him patiently for you to explain what had happened.

“I chickened out,” you admitted.

“Yeah, a little bit,” he agreed. 

You looked up to see him grinning at you, and a wave of relief washed over you when you realized he wasn’t upset.

“It’s okay. I’ll talk to them,” he said with an untroubled shrug. Suddenly the guards were entering again, this time with food. Dae-ho’s eyebrows raised and he spoke again, “Right after lunch.”

[reiding-writing]

Ooo please write cold!reader being a complete badass in the field and Spencer just being in love

TAKEDOWN [PART ONE]

/ˈteɪkˌdaʊn/ /part two/

Who knew watching somebody take down an unsub would cause Spencer to feel so many emotions at once?

WARNINGS: fem!reader, guns, knives, minor character injury

s7!spencer x cold!reader fluff?? 1.6k series masterlist!

a/n: glad people have taken as much of a liking to cold!reader as i have 😭

main masterlist!!

“Don’t. Move.”

Having a glock levelled at the back of somebody’s head was never the best way to spend your Thursday afternoon, but alas, it is what it is.

You press the barrel into the man’s head with enough pressure for his shoulders to tense, his eyes widening as they remained fixed on Spencer and Morgan in front of him, who both had their own guns raised in his direction. “Drop the knife.”

The man raised both of his arms slowly, butterfly knife held loosely in his right hand.

“Drop it.”

You can’t see the man’s expression from where you’re standing, but if you had to wager a guess based on the flickering of Spencer’s irises you’d say he was smiling.

The way he started to let go of the knife in his hand solidified your theory.

He loosened his grip on the split handle of the knife one finger at a time, tantalisingly slowly like he was treating your threat like some kind of game.

“I said drop it.”

“Slow your roll sweetheart, I am,”

You bite the inside of your cheek at his comment, pressing the barrel of your gun harder against the back of his head. “I have a gun levelled to the back of your head, drop the knife now or I will send a bullet straight through your skull.”

“You wouldn’t do that to me,” The way he speaks down to you makes your blood boil, and you make a show of pulling the slide back, the metal making a loud clicking sound that verberated through his skull as an unused round falls onto the ground by your feet.

“Try me.”

“Alright alright,” The man laughs at your display, although you can tell by the tension in his shoulder blades that his confidence is starting to dwindle, especially when the three people pointing their guns at him turned into four as Emily joined Morgan and Spencer with her firearm raised.

The last finger he has holding the butterfly knife is his index finger, and you can see Spencer’s expression furrow with his hand tightening on the handle grip. Clearly he didn’t think that the unsub was going to surrender that easily.

You mirror the way Spencer tightens his grip as you focus your gaze on the knife in the unsub’s hand, and the way he raised his index finger excruciatingly slowly, almost rolling the knife in his hand rather than actually letting go of it.

Spencer’s apprehension was well founded it seemed, and the split-knife handle twisted around the back of the unsub’s hand before being clutched back in his palm as ducked his head and swung backwards towards you.

You pull your head backwards as he turns to stop the knife from going straight into the side of your head, grasping his wrist with your left had as you slam your right elbow down into the curve of his arm so that he’s forced to kneel or else have the bones in his arm snap under the force, the knife falling to the floor in the process.

His knees hit the floor with a loud ‘thud’, and you force his arm behind him painfully tight as his chest meets the concrete, and you again press the barrel of your gun to the back of his head, this time with the added leverage of leaning over him whilst he’s rendered defenceless on his ground with your knee planted directly on his spine.

There’s a short whistle from where your co-workers are standing once you’ve got the unsub immobilised, one that clearly came from Morgan as he walks over with his gun held loosely in his right hand and a pair of handcuffs held out towards you as they balance precariously on his left index finger. “Nice, that was hot,”

You exchange your gun for the handcuffs with a scoff at his comment. “Shut your mouth,”

You tug the unsub to his feet once he’s cuffed, passing him off to Emily so that she can escort him to the SUV with Morgan as backup just in case he tried anything.

“You uh- did a good job,” You give Spencer a small hum as acknowledgement of his comment as you pick up the butterfly knife from the floor, turning it in your hands as you stand up from your knelt position to turn your attention to Spencer.

“You’re bleeding-” His eyes widen as he catches the first full look at your face since the confrontation ended, blinking softly with his eyebrows slightly furrowed in concern.

You raise an eyebrow at his comment at first, a small stinging emanating from your cheek as you tense the muscles needed to do so, and you swipe your left hand across the apple of your right cheek, pulling it back to reveal a red stain smudged across the back of your knuckles.

You were bleeding. The unsub must’ve nicked you when he swung earlier.

“It’s fine,” You wipe your hand on the thigh of your jeans, pocketing the knife to bring it back to the station later.

“You should… Uh…” Spencer blinked a few times as he tried to formulate his words under the view of your actions, the smudge of blood left behind from your hand being joined by a fresh trickle that was slowly making it’s way down your cheek and suddenly making Spencer forget everything he knew about the English language. “You- uh- you should-”

He points lamely over his shoulder towards the ambulance on standby, hoping that his actions will save him where his words are failing.

“It’s fine Reid,” You shake your head at his suggestion, rolling your right shoulder with your left hand planted firmly at the joint.

“You really- Just in case-” Spencer continues to fumble blindly over his words as he tries to give you a reason to have your cut checked out.

“It’ll be fine,”

“Even- Even small uh.. Even small cuts and scrapes can get infected and lead to sepsis if you’re not careful-” He got a full sentence out this time. Barely. For some reason he was having a really hard time focusing under your gaze, even more so than usual.

Maybe it was the fact that he’d just watched you swerve a knife swing and take down a 6’4 unsub like he was a ragdoll. Maybe it was the fact that you were so nonchalant about the gash on your face and the blood trickling down your cheek. Maybe it was the natural narrowing of your eyes as you looked at him that made his heart feel like it was going to drop into his stomach.

But it wasn’t fear, so it couldn’t have been any of those things, if it were to do with that then surely he’d be feeling intimidated rather than, well, whatever he was feeling right now.

“Will it get you off my back?”

Spencer’s vision comes back into focus at your question, shamelessly staring in your direction. “Yeah uh- mhm,” He nods timidly, lips pressed tight into a line as his teeth tug at his lips nervously. “Please get it checked?”

You let your head fall back until you’re stood facing the ceiling, your eyes closing momentarily with an exasperated sigh. “Fine,”

Spencer follows the small trail of blood that extends past your jawline and down the side of your neck as you lean your head backwards, eyes snapping back up to your face once you tilt it back straight with your eyes locked on his face. “Lead the way then,”

“Right-” Spencer gives a sharp nod as he turns around towards the ambulance and begins walking with you on his tail, half grateful that you’re not in his line of vision anymore as his heart rate slowly returns to normal.

It was just the adrenaline surely.

He stays with you as you get your gash checked out by the EMTs, eyes following the antiseptic wipe that cleans up the drying blood stain down your neck and up the side of your face, the hiss that leaves your mouth and the sight of you wincing slightly under the sting as it reached the sight of injury causing his heart to drop and his pulse to race once more.

He was just concerned about your well being, that’s all.

[a-hermit-pining]

LaDs as Hotel Staff

AN: I get writing zoomies sometimes. This is the result of that. It started as White Lotus au but derailed to Hotel Del Luna.

Ingredients: 100% Fluff and found family ish??

My Fav: All. I love them all.

Xavier: The most sleep-deprived hotel manager in the known universe. He greets the guests of Philos with a perfect, practiced grin, even when the presidential suite brats call at 2 a.m. demanding fresh coconut water.

(And guess what? They'll get it.)

You’re his unofficial work best friend. The staff member everyone marvels hasn't been fired yet. The one who pulls him back from the brink of snapping.

No one needs to meet the berserk Xavier. Truly.

You grab the ringing phone from his hands, smooth as ever. "Yes, sir," you say sweetly, "we'll have your coconut water first thing in the morning. Sweet dreams." Click.

You turn to Xavier, smug. "See? Not that hard. He’s piss drunk. We’ll be fine."

Xavier looks like he’s questioning all his life choices. Again.

Rafayel: The siren of Philos, or, as some TripAdvisor reviews mysteriously mention, "the ghost by the shore."

Helps you "handle" the problematic guests. The ones who threaten Xavier with bad reviews. By "handle," you mean... well. They stop being a problem. Permanently.

You skip the breakfast rush, stealing a moment by the sea to watch the sunrise. Rafayel surfaces from the water, sleek and shimmering, flopping onto the shore with practiced drama.

"Sup?" you greet him with a nod. "You're early, fish."

He glares. "For the last time, I am not a fish." He scoffs folding his arms, his tail thumps in annoyance. "Must I drown you again to teach you proper titles?"

"Yes, yes, High Prince of the Seas, forgive this poor mortal," you laugh, bowing low.

He preens, fixing the scales at his throat. "Besides," you ask, watching the sunrise, "you drowned another cruise?"

Rafayel smiles, wicked and unrepentant. "They trespassed into our grove. I'm merely an agent of natural selection."

You really should warn Xavier. Maybe.

Zayne: The resort's fitness trainer, seasonal worker. Come winter, he’s here. Come summer, he disappears into the mountains like mist.

Rich, middle-aged guests are smitten by the quiet, broody "Dr. Zayne."

Good thing you’re nosy enough to herd the overly touchy clients into "submersion tanks", a.k.a. the safest way to soak off the raging hormones of fifty-year-old teenagers.

You lean against his table after yet another close call. "She was halfway onto your lap, dude," you say dryly. "If I didn’t know better, I’d think you liked it."

He lobs a pen at your head. You duck, laughing. "Hey! I could have lost my eyesight. I’m not rescuing you next time, Dr. Zayne."

He mutters something under his breath that sounds suspiciously like the rumbly murmur of one of the snow leopards before they rip someone's hand off.

Sylus: The owner of Philos Resort. Ex-mafia (maybe). Semi-retired, mostly unhinged.

The one who decided it was perfectly reasonable to staff a resort with sirens, mountain leopards, and occasional revenants. (Yes, the sirens get paid in... alternative compensation.)

You’re halfway through losing your weekly pay in a messy game of cards with Luke and Kieran when Sylus strolls in, all wolfish grin and casual menace.

"Good to see my employees working hard," he says, sliding into the game like a shark in still water.

You try not to sigh too loudly. Losing your paycheck and your pride in front of your boss? Great.

Caleb: The ancient herald guarding the outer gates of resort. The one who slipped your resume under Sylus' nose and said, "This one. Get them."

His tiny hut, just outside resort boundaries, is the unofficial venue for staff parties, close enough for the sirens and leopards to join, far enough that Xavier doesn't have a nervous breakdown over property damage.

You’ve only seen Caleb use his staff once. A massive, glowing relic that appears from nothing. And it was to banish a screaming Karen into the Void after she threw hot coffee in your face. (Her son wept for hours. Not helpful.)

Caleb remains the hardest to anger, and the hardest to cool down once the ancient fury is lit. You’re still finding new strategies to convince him to release guests... eventually.

[mysunshinetemptress]

Nepo Baby

Leah Williamson x Beckham!Reader

Warning: I hate this sorry love the request but hate this

The locker room buzzed with nervous energy. England was facing Ireland, An important match in the intense group all looking to qualify for the Euros next year, and the tension was thicker than hairspray. But for Leah Williamson, captain and undisputed leader, there was an extra edge, it was her first game back for England since her ACL injury last year and although she was excited to finally be leading England back out she knew it wasn't what anyone would be talking about, not even her best friends had acknowledged the importance of today for her, all to caught up in the fan fair of a new England debut that was Y/n Beckham.

You were David and Victoria Beckham's third child, twin sister to Romeo and from the moment your name had been announced to the squad list the media had blown up, but Leah had been a sceptic. The media fawned over you, the "Beckham heir," a title that felt more like a burden than a birthright. Leah had clawed her way to the top, her talent undeniable. You, she suspected, had a silver spoon where your foot should be.

England's first training session confirmed Leah's suspicions. Your skills were undeniable – your crosses were pinpoint, your dribbling silky smooth. But there was a certain arrogance in your gaze, a sense of entitlement that grated on Leah. During a passing drill, You intercepted a ball intended for Leah, a mischievous glint in your eyes.

"Easy there, Williamson," You smirked, sending the ball sailing over Leah's head. "Maybe next time, try calling for it a bit louder."

Leah bristled. "Don't patronise me, Beckham," she growled. "This isn't your playground."

You began to regret your earlier arrogance as Leah began to nitpick her way through your play, through the rest of the training sessions at St Georges Leah found something to fault you on and you began to think back to all your past coaches who had put you on a pedestal only wanting to watch you fall. All training sessions continued like this and you hoped that she might let up but Leah seemed set in her ways.

Leah sighed walking into the conference room her first one back for England, her first one back as captain, she smiled letting out a soft hello before taking her seat beside Sarina.

Leah puffed out her cheeks as another reporter asked about you, She looked up as yet another report mentioned you and your father's talent. "Her dad worked hard to gain the career he had, Y/n has waltzed into her contracts thanks to his hard work, no other reason, she's an arrogant Nepo baby on a team of hard workers, now can we please move off this topic and actually talk about the upcoming games." The room fell into an awkward silence at the normally calm captains outburst.

The silence stretched, punctuated only by the nervous coughs of a few reporters. Sarina Wiegman, the England manager, cleared her throat, her eyes flitting between Leah and the press. "Leah makes a valid point," she finally chimed in, her voice calm but firm. "We're here to discuss the upcoming matches, and the entire squad deserves your attention. Y/n has earned her place here based on her talent, and we're all focused on bringing home a win."

Leah felt a sliver of guilt at the manager's words. She knew Sarina was right, the media frenzy surrounding Y/n wasn't fair to anyone, and her outburst was unprofessional. But the constant comparisons, the whispers of nepotism, they were a persistent itch under her skin. That guilty feeling however was made ten times worse when she caught your eye at the back of the conference room before you ducked your head and began to walk out.

You had avoided Leah for the rest of your time at St Georges as well as the short travelling day over to Dublin, and now you sat at your cubby head down staring at the ground the weight of the surname on your back, the weight of your very famous family sitting in the stands travelling to see your debut for England. You couldn't let them down, you couldn't let him down.

The anger towards you and your nepotism crept back into Leah as she listened to Kiera and Georgia harp on about you and your famous family completely forgetting that this was also an important moment for her, this was her first time back in the England squad in a year, her first time starting, her first time back as captain.

Lining up Leah grabbed your arm before you could walk out "You aren't talented, you're a kid using your father's hard work, you never had to fight for your spot it was given to you on a silver platter thanks to the name on your back." Leah spat the last part back at you and suddenly you couldn't move, Leah hit your shoulder before heading to the tunnel, but still you couldn't move, she was right after all.

Shame burned in your throat, acrid and bitter. Leah's words echoed in the empty hallway, bouncing off the lockers and amplifying the hollowness you felt inside. Tears pricked at your eyes, blurring the already dim lighting. You weren't a child, not anymore. But in that moment, Leah's words had stripped you bare, leaving you feeling exposed and vulnerable.

A shaky breath escaped your lips. You weren't a Beckham just because of your name. You'd trained relentlessly since you could walk, mimicking your dad's moves in the living room, begging him for extra sessions after school. You had the talent, you knew you did. But proving it to someone as entrenched as Leah felt impossible.

Suddenly, the weight of expectation on your young shoulders felt insurmountable. The image of your family in the stands, their hopeful faces etched in your mind, only amplified the pressure. You couldn't let them down, couldn't let your dad down after years of his unwavering support. A surge of defiance replaced the self-doubt. No, you wouldn't let Leah break you.

Suddenly, a hand touched your shoulder. You flinched, expecting another barb, but it was Lucy, her face etched with concern. "Y/n, are you alright?" she asked gently.

You shook your head, voice cracking. "I...she thinks..." you choked on the words.

Lucy understood. She'd been there, the pressure of a debut, the weight of expectations. "Listen," she said firmly, her voice laced with veteran experience, "Leah's hurting. She wants to prove herself again, and right now, she's lashing out."

"But it's true," you whispered, tears finally spilling over. "I haven't had to fight for anything."

Lucy wrapped an arm around you, pulling you into a hug. "Maybe not," she conceded, "but that doesn't mean you don't have talent. We wouldn't be here if you weren't good. Use this, Y/n. Prove them all wrong, yourself included."

Her words sparked a flicker of defiance in your chest. You weren't here just because of your name. You loved football, you'd trained relentlessly, pushing yourself as hard as anyone. Maybe you hadn't clawed your way up from the bottom, but that didn't mean you didn't belong.

Wiping your tears, you straightened your back, a newfound resolve hardening your gaze. "Thanks, Lucy," you said, your voice firm. 

The roar of the Dublin crowd washed over you as you stepped onto the pitch. You glanced at Leah across the line, her jaw clenched, eyes hard with determination. It wasn't a friendly look, but it wasn't a dismissive one either.

Every touch, every pass, fueled by the need to silence the doubts, both internal and external. You played with a tenacity that surprised even yourself, weaving through defenders, your crosses finding their targets with pinpoint accuracy.

Then, in the second half, a chance. You intercepted a pass deep in your own half, broke free, and sprinted down the wing. The Irish defense converged, but you remembered Leah's words from training, the ones buried under the avalanche of criticism. You feinted left, then right, sending two defenders sprawling.

With only the Courtney Brosnan to beat, you took a deep breath, you curled the ball towards the far post. It dipped just out of reach of the goalkeeper's fingertips, nestled perfectly into the net.

The stadium erupted. Your teammates swarmed you, a joyous tangle of limbs. Even Leah offered a hesitant smile, a flicker of pride in her eyes.

The final whistle blew, and England was victorious. As you celebrated with your teammates, a hand landed on your shoulder. You looked up to see Leah, a genuine smile on her face.

"Good goal," she said, her voice the softest you've heard.

"Thank you." you smiled back before clearing your throat, your eyes pricking with tears before let out a surprised gasp at Leah pulling you into her chest.

The unexpected warmth of Leah's embrace sent a jolt through you. It was the first genuine human contact you'd had from her all camp, and for some reason, it felt like a dam breaking.

"I just want to prove myself," you mumbled against her shoulder, your voice thick with emotion. "Everyone expects me to be this prodigy, just because of my name. But I don't want to be David Beckham's daughter, I want to be Y/n Beckham, the footballer."

Leah pulled back to meet your gaze, her voice softer than you expected. "There's nothing wrong with wanting to prove yourself. I was out of line. The whole 'nepo baby' thing...it was unprofessional and unfair. You deserve to be here, Y/n. Your talent speaks for itself."

That night, under the soft glow of the locker room lights, a tentative friendship blossomed. It was a friendship forged in shared passion, mutual respect, and the unspoken understanding of the immense pressure that came with wearing the England shirt.pen_spark

You wouldn't see Leah again until England's camp in preparation for the doubleheader against France and this time the training sessions became a battleground, not of barbs and put-downs, but of fierce competition, each of you pushing the other to be better. You learned to anticipate Leah's sharp passes, and her instinctive runs, and she, in turn, began to appreciate the subtle artistry in your footwork, the way you could unlock a defence with a single, deft touch.

Late nights turned into conversations in the locker room, sharing stories, dreams, and the anxieties that came with leading a team like England. You confided in Leah about the suffocating weight of expectation, the fear of never living up to your father's legacy. She, in turn, opened up about the loneliness of being the captain, the constant scrutiny, the burden of always having to be strong.

The evening before the team were set to travel to Newcastle, after a particularly gruelling training session, you found yourself lingering in the empty team room. Leah was still there, sat on the couch scrolling in the corner. You hesitated, then walked over.

"Fancy a game of Ping Pong." You rubbed your neck nervously as Leah met your eyes before smiling "Yeah sure." You both spent the night laughing over your terrible ping-pong skills before quietly wishing each other good night.

As weeks turned into months, your friendship deepened, blossoming into something more. Stolen glances across the training field, lingering touches during celebrations, late-night texts filled with silly jokes and words left unsaid. It was a slow burn, a gradual realization that the person you once considered your rival had become someone you craved, not just on the pitch, but off it as well.

The turning point came during the final Euro qualifier match against Swede. The pressure was immense, and the score tied with only minutes remaining. You received the ball deep in your own half, the Swedish defence swarming around you. You saw a gap, a flicker of movement, and instinctively passed the ball.

Leah, anticipating the play, met the ball perfectly, unleashing a powerful shot that rocketed into the net. The stadium erupted, your teammates mobbing you both in a joyous frenzy. In that shared moment of triumph, your eyes met, and a silent confession hung heavy in the air.

Later that night, back at the team hotel, you found Leah pacing the balcony overlooking the city lights. The nervous tension that had been simmering for weeks finally broke.

"Leah," you started, your voice barely above a whisper "Are you ok." Leah walked straight for you before gently grabbing your face before you placed a hand on her chest stopping her advances. "This...us...it's not fair to the team, is it?"

She didn't move, her eyes searching yours. "Maybe not," she admitted, a small smile playing on her lips. "But it feels pretty damn right."

You dropped your hands to her waist as she pulled you into a searing kiss before you pulled back again Leah let out a whine in frustration, "And to think you hated me only a few months ago." Leah let out a scoff "I never hated you, how could I ever hate a girl as gorgeous as you." you laughed before pulling her into another kiss

[beebazooka]

just happened to land on you, who else?

----- pt. 1/2

daisuke x gn reader fic 𓆩⟡𓆪 word count; 1.1k

content warning: later smut, non-established relationship, awkwardness, NEEDY 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴suke, angst(post crash doomed-ness)

You were Anya's intern— you didn't know what career to pick so you followed whatever your parents thought was best. The money balanced out the negatives; long and unpredictable hours, patient interactions, and differing opinions from coworkers on how to deal with someone. All you needed to get that was a good recommendation and your parents would deal with medical school's expenses.

So you signed up for every advertisement that didn't look scam-y. Until no one would call back, it made sense. You had nothing on your record but a summer job you had at sixteen and a high school diploma. Not exactly the top candidate.

Your last hope was a faded-out pamphlet stapled to an electric post. Reluctantly, you ripped off one of the phone number handouts printed between the dotted punctured lines. That flyer was no doubt, the sketchiest thing you had ever seen in your life. That cartoon horse mascot smiling at you didn't ease any worries despite how much the company probably wanted it to.

<⟡>

Now you were boarding the Tulpar, you could see your new coworkers through the small crowd of higher-ups and last-minute maintenance workers; a bunch of sad sack adults, and a guy like you. Small carry-on bags either held or settled by their feet.

He was friendly, really friendly. He ran over to you immediately, imaginary tail wagging at the mere sight of someone in his age group.

"Daisuke Juárez." He blurted out, extending a hand for you to shake.

"Uh, what?" His eyebrows furrowed as he dropped his hand, looking away. You could see his lips mutter a swear but no sound came out.

"That's my name, sorry for no intro before that..." He gave a nervous chuckle before he offered his hand to you again. You took it, why wouldn't you? It would just make this already weird conversation worse.

A quick shake between new coworkers. Nervous sweat passed back and forth, a cold feeling and a 'clink' sound from his rings bumping against yours. This guy would probably be your only choice for socializing. He had a lot of enthusiasm to pass around and frankly, everyone needed it.

<⟡>

A couple of months on board and by some miracle, he wasn't your thirteenth reason yet. Your boredom wouldn't let you hate him. You looked forward to his shenanigans. To Swansea's dismay, you started participating.

Sneaking sugar packets here, teaming up to cheat on crew game nights there.

Then it happened. That fake scenic sunset display quickly changed to a message so contrasting; Crash eminent. You had no clue what to do other than prepare. The blaring alarms didn't stop even when you ducked down behind the kitchen counters.

<⟡>

Everything was ruined, tousled, destroyed. Emergency foam went off everywhere, closing off the sleeping quarters, and a couple of hallways.

Every day, every new experience drained you. You had to hold back Anya's hair four times as she vomited in between patching up Captain— no, just Curly now.

One day, Swansea gathered up everyone, well tried. He only got the interns to sit down in the living quarters, pacing back and forth while he gave a doomed pep talk to the only people who would listen.

"We're fucked. This goddamn company doesn't care about us or that one of their ships went offline. We're dead meat, just names on a fucking list." He kept pacing. He had that little rasp in his voice, probably from the fact he kept pausing his spiel to take swigs of mouthwash. Daisuke told you all about Swansea's drunken rants whenever the two of you got bored enough. He said he liked the burn. The knowledge that he was ruining his life all over again. He loved it.

"You kids do whatever the fuck you want, 'cause I'm not doing shit. I'm not going to spend the last weeks of my life slaving away at the same company that already took forty years of my damn happiness." Then he walked off, too drunk to stomp away. Going to stand in front of the utility room. The only task he wanted to commit to; stopping others from doing something stupid; he always did. Daisuke could be his whole defense for that argument.

"So that's our advice... We do whatever because we're dying soon anyway." You mumbled after some struggle. Someone both you and Daisuke were supposed to look up to and ask for guidance just told you to fuck around while you still can.

"That's it? Our first fucking trip and we die here?!" You stood up, your anger wanted to move and right now, you didn't want to deny it.

Daisuke let out a quiet sigh, leaning back until his body hit the cold floor, he ran his fingers through his hair, in an attempt to ease something... anything. "I haven't lived yet. I partied. I jacked around. I don't have anything to actually be proud of. I haven't done anything."

That made you stop. He was right. He hasn't lived and neither have you. You were getting mad at people millions of miles away on Earth, that for sure didn't know your name or face.

"Bucket list." You whispered in that same tone you used to pass jokes to him during lectures with Swansea... a long time ago. He would give anything for this shitshow to be a dream that he could wake up to and have you joke about Swansea's under-eyes over and over again. "We make a bucket list. We do everything before we die when the food and oxygen supply run out.

<⟡>

They wrote down a small list each. It was cute at first, pranking the unbothered Swansea wasn't as fun as before but it was something. They shared a couple sugar packets, helped Anya out for a bit, and destroyed the kitchen by mismatching recipes.

Then their lists went cold and desperate; in tiny, rushed pen-written letters were four words. "Don't die a virgin."

After reading it from the other's list, they looked up at each other. "This is humiliating, you know," Daisuke spoke up first, despite his words he had a hint of a smile on his lips.

"Yeah... I know." You replied back. This was a horrible way to lose something people said was so sacred, but now, you saw it how it was; just another experience to have before you died.

[salemrph]

"Let the World Burn"

Chapter 4: Extraction Point

A night of celebration ends in chaos—you vanish without a trace. The ransom demand arrives, but Sylus knows this isn’t just about money.

Navigator: Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | AO3

Chapter 4 summary: A silent extraction turns into chaos. Luke reaches you, but leaving isn’t an option—not without answers. Sylus navigates a dangerous negotiation with Rudy. But as tensions rise, one thing becomes clear—this game has more players than they thought.

Characters: Sylus x MC/Reader/You, Luke and Kieran, Zayne, Caleb

Genre/Warning: descriptions of violence and blood, hurt/comfort, injuries, grief, romantic, drama, action, slight sexual content, angst

Words: 8.5k | Reading Time: 34 min

Inspired by: Let the world burn

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Chapter 4: Extraction Point

The alarm blares through the halls, drilling into your skull with every pulse of red flashing light. You move quickly behind Luke, your grip on the gun tightening with each step you take. 

"We need to shut that thing off—now," you say, voice clipped. "More guards will be coming."

Luke doesn’t slow down, his gun swinging into position as you round a corner—right into another squad of enemies. At least he doesn’t have to bother with stealth anymore. Gunfire erupts, loud over the wailing alarm. Luke moves like a force of nature, taking them down with brutal efficiency. The force of his shots sends bodies slamming into walls, blood splattering against the already ruined floors. You take out the stragglers, ducking low and firing off calculated shots. One gets too close—you twist, drive an elbow into his throat, then finish him off with a clean shot to the temple. He crumples, his last breath a wet, choking gasp.

"I know," he mutters, kicking a body aside. "Any idea where the control room is?" 

"Really? You’re asking me?" You exhale sharply, scanning the hallway, heart still hammering against your ribs. Then it hits you, an idea, a reckless one. You scoff, but a smirk tugs at your lips as you turn to Luke. "Buut… I know who could tell us."

Luke glances at you, then grins. "I like where this is going."

You double back, retracing your steps to the room you barely escaped from. The door slams open under your force, gun raised, eyes scanning for movement. The sight inside makes your stomach twist. Instruments lying on the floor, broken glass, and an overturned syringe tray. Luke steps in behind you, his boots smearing fresh blood across the cold floor. He looks over and secures the room. His expression darkens. Seeing this mess, it's almost a miracle you only got away with a broken rib. A chill runs through Luke as he looks at all the instruments. 

"Shit" you mutter. Your gaze locks onto the trail of blood smeared across the door. You look for the big guy, he's not there. He's escaped. You just hope you don't run into him again. Nevermind, what happened to the other one? Then your eyes flick to the figure on the ground—the lab worker. He’s barely conscious, groaning softly. Luke steps past you without hesitation. He grips the man by the collar, lifting him with ease and throwing him onto the operating table. The sound is brutal. Before the poor bastard can react, Luke straps him down, the leather restraints biting into his wrists. The man whimpers. You exhale through the pain in your ribs, forcing yourself to stay sharp. You won’t let your body slow you down now. The painkillers Luke gave you dull the worst of it, but they’re not a miracle.

"Morning," Luke gives the man a sharp slap, waking him just enough to make him aware of the situation. His dazed eyes flutter open. "It’s payday." The guy lets out a panicked wheeze as he wakes up. 

"Eh—who are—?!"

You press your gun to his temple, cutting him off. The feel of it steadies you. Makes you feel in control again. You don’t have time for chitchat. You’ll beat the answer out of him if you have to. 

"Tell us how to shut off the alarm," you order. He hesitates, shifting against the restraints. Wrong move. With a sharp click, you load the gun and press it harder against his skull. "I’m not playing." 

Luke leans in, grinning. "Yeah… I’d do what she says."

The man swallows hard. His eyes dart between you and Luke, his breathing shallow, erratic. You can practically see the moment he breaks—his resolve snapping like a brittle bone. His lips part, and then the words start spilling out, rushed, desperate. Fear makes people efficient. You merely listen to all the details. Your pulse is pounding too loud, your body strung too tight. Every inch of you still aches from what they did to you in this place, but the fire in your veins burns hotter than the pain.

You feel your soul trembling. You don’t kill out of hate. You don’t kill out of rage. You don’t kill for revenge. You pause. Because you’re not like them. The man strapped to the operating table whimpers. His breath is ragged, eyes blown wide with terror as he stares at you. Your finger hovers over the trigger.

It's simple. It should be… your hands feel too heavy and your chest too tight. Your head splits open with pain, a sharp, searing ache burrowing into the base of your skull like claws sinking into flesh. You fight the urge to flinch, to wince, to scream. The feeling burns through your mind. Your vision distorts, one moment you see the man strapped to the table, the next…

Heat. Strength. Power.

It slithers through your veins, wrapping around your hesitation like an iron grip. Your grip tightens. When he finally finishes speaking, you pull the trigger. Without a thanks or a second thought of leaving that miserable loser alive. The shot rings out, deafening in the confined space. Luke barely has time to process it before the sharp, metallic scent of blood fills the air. You stand there, unmoving. Blood splatters across your face but you don’t care. With a slow motion, you wipe it away with the back of your hand, your eyes remain fixed on the corpse. Luke didn’t expect that. He expects you to give maybe a warning shot or knock him out. But this... this was different. It wasn’t just the act, but the way you carried it. The way the weight of the moment didn’t seem to touch you.

Something about how you looked in that instant left him speechless. For a fleeting second, he swore it wasn’t you standing there. It was Sylus. That same cold, unreadable expression. The same quiet, commanding aura that sent a chill down his spine. The flickering light overhead cast long shadows, stretching your figure, distorting it, making it harder to tell where you end and he begins. Luke blinked, shaking off the unsettling thought, but the image burned in his mind as he fell into step behind you. He exhales, rolling his shoulders to dispel the tension. 

"What was that?" you snap out of whatever stage you were in. Your body felt disconnected, like you were standing on the shore watching yourself drift out to sea. You shake your head and blink a couple of times.

"Huh—? What do you mean?" Your voice came out softer than you expected, like you weren’t entirely here. Luke studied you for a moment longer, then shook his head. He didn’t know how to explain what he just saw. Instead, he just muttered a quiet curse under his breath and shoved you toward the door. 

"Forget it."

With the info, both sprint through the sterile corridors, the control room your sole target. It slams shut—a heavy, automated door—just beyond the next bend. No time for caution. You can't afford it. You're almost there. Having already neutralized a handful of guards along the way, you reach the final door. You retrieve the stolen access card, the plastic slick with sweat, and swipe it across the panel. Luke forcefully pushes the door open, and you both quickly slip inside. 

Two guards react instantly, reaching for their weapons but they’re not fast enough. Two shots ring out, precise and merciless. Luke’s aim is unerring, each bullet finding its mark. The men drop before they can even shout, bodies crumpling to the floor with a dull thud. Silence follows. The room is yours. 

The control room is dim, the cold glow of computer monitors casting soft shadows. Dust swirls in the air, illuminated by the sterile light. Luke moves quickly, pushing the two lifeless bodies aside to make room, then heads over to one of the terminals, his fingers dancing across the keyboard. The access code, a grim prize extracted moments earlier, allowed him to bypass the security protocols. Lines of code scrolled across the screen, reflecting in his intense gaze. Then—beep. He disables the alarm, finally giving you some breathing room. The sirens go silent. The sudden absence of the piercing sirens left a ringing in your ears, a strange, almost painful quiet. But with it came a wave of relief, the immediate threat finally extinguished. It's time to search.

The desk is cluttered but not in the way you’d hoped—no scattered files, no convenient folders labeled classified. Just empty coffee cups, loose papers filled with mundane schedules, and a monitor that hums softly in the quiet. Where is it? 

You ripped open the drawers, your fingers fumbling through useless reports and personnel lists, each empty drawer a tightening knot in your stomach. Your pulse quickens. Nothing. No tangible evidence to tear apart with your own hands. Nothing to seize, nothing to expose. The clock ticked in your head. You try to tell yourself it’s fine. You just need something—anything—to tell you what the hell they had done to you in this place. 

So, you sit down on the second access point, ignoring the way your body protests the movement, the dull throb in your ribs turning sharp. Your fingers move over the keyboard. The system is old, security lazy. They hadn’t expected anyone to make it this far. The access code bypassed the remaining firewalls. You navigated the labyrinth of files, eyes burning as you scanned folder names—a blur of experiment logs, medical archives, test results. There. Your finger stabbed the click.

The screen flooded with sterile data, graphs, diagrams, text reports. A clinical autopsy of your very being. Blood tests, cardiographic readings, a meticulous dissection of your physiology. Your blood turned to ice. You swallowed the data a bitter pill.

CONFIDENTIAL EXPERIMENTAL REPORT

Subject Female, Evol: Anhausen Class

Recorder: Vincent, Lead Researcher – Project Oversight

Serum Code: "Chimera 1X9"

Composition Details: 

Synthesized neuro-stimulants and bio-engineered catalysts

High-reactivity compounds designed to enhance neural plasticity

Energy output modification through forced metabolic acceleration

Volatile binding agents—difficult to stabilize, prone to cellular rejection

Observation Log:

Subject exhibited severe physiological distress within seconds of administration. Immediate cardiovascular irregularities: tachycardia, arrhythmic fluctuations. Visible muscular tremors and loss of motor function. Subject experienced a full-body shock response—clenched jaw, rapid convulsions, short-term paralysis. Uncontrolled ocular reactions noted—dilated pupils, erratic flickering eye movement.

Neurological Response: 

Severe overstimulation detected in prefrontal cortex

Extreme hyperawareness followed by rapid crashes—energy output fluctuating erratically. Energy production surged unpredictably, causing extreme fatigue. 

Speech impairment detected—inability to articulate words properly post-injection.

Subject lost consciousness multiple times, heart rate dangerously dipping before spiking again.

Subject's pain response exceeded projected tolerance levels—screaming, breathlessness, disorientation. Potential long-term nerve damage is a concern.

Unexpected Results

Serum-induced destabilization of cardiac rhythms required immediate countermeasures.

Subject's body temperature spiked dangerously (recorded at 40.1°C / 104.2°F).

Temporary vision impairment noted, with reported instances of visual distortion.

Neurological instability worsening—subject displayed erratic brainwave activity consistent with severe seizure-like episodes.

Additional Notes

Subject presents symptoms consistent with Protocore Syndrome—a rare Evol-linked disorder affecting neurological adaptability and cellular regeneration.

Syndrome appears to amplify Chimera 1X9’s instability. Subject’s Evol classification likely compounding the serum’s violent response.

Further observation required to determine if prolonged exposure will result in adaptation or complete system failure.

Serum stability adjustments necessary before further administration.

Additional neuro-blockers required to manage the subject's volatile neural responses.

Close monitoring for progressive neurological deterioration or compensatory adaptation. Any progressive neural degradation must be logged.

If instability persists, termination may be required before critical system failure occurs. Subject must be transferred immediately.

End of Report.

The phantom chill of the metal table returned, the ghost of restraints biting into your skin.  The needle's prick, the searing burn of the serum, a foreign fire coursing through your veins. Your body had rebelled against it, muscles spasming, vision flashing white. Their voices had blurred together. Taking notes while you screamed. You exhale shakily, willing yourself back to the present. The serum. They tested something on you. They documented every reaction, every spike in your vitals, every moment your body tried to tear itself apart. Your hands shake as you reach for the keyboard again. You force yourself to read it again, but the second time is worse. The words dig in deeper.

Serum instability… neuro-toxicity… critical system failure.

There has to be more. Something to tell you what they were looking for—what they wanted from you. Volatile compounds. Neural overstimulation. Your breathing is too shallow, too quick, and you force yourself to focus, to shove the rising panic down.

The screen swam, the data blurring into an indecipherable haze. It took a moment to register—your vision, not the monitor, was failing. You blinked, the world momentarily sharpening, then wavering again. A suffocating tightness gripped your chest, your pulse a frantic drumbeat in your ears. The clinical details of your own body were a nauseating horror, but you couldn't stop. It sounds like a death sentence. A ticking bomb inside your body, waiting to go off. You feel the pang in your chest again, your heart expanding painfully against your ribs, against your lungs.

The continuous pulse in your head makes you feel sluggish, or rather your brain is overloaded. Chimera 1X9. That name sounds familiar, where have you seen that before? Your eyes flick over the screen again, scanning the text. You had to find the answers, even as your body screamed for you to stop. Suddenly, it clicks. The name had surfaced before. Fleeting mentions in the Hunter Association’s databases, nothing your division would typically handle. It wasn’t classified as a high-priority case, but it was a ghost in the background, a name hovering around disappearances, shady experiments, and rumors of human modification. You remember brushing past it in reports, never realizing how close it really was. As you push through the haze in your mind, you force yourself to keep scrolling. Names fill the screen. People who had vanished without a trace. Each file meticulously details their "adaptation process," the failures, the side effects. Some never survived the trials. Looking at the reports, you realize something. They were all Evolvers.

"Miss?" Luke’s voice pulls you back, his eyes narrowing as he studies you. He’s tense now, sensing the shift in your body language. "What 's wrong?" You shake your head, you keep scrolling. You swallow the tightness in your throat, willing yourself to focus on the screen. 

"Nothing" you murmur, fingers tightening against the keyboard as if sheer willpower could steady your trembling hands. He doesn’t buy it. You can feel his eyes on you, his posture shifting. Luke leans against the chair, arms crossed, eyes flicking to the screen occasionally then back to you. 

"I almost forgot," he said, too nonchalantly, "you should know, someone paid your apartment a visit after you vanished."

Your fingers pause mid-scroll. A cold prickle runs down your spine. "Huh? What?"

He tilts his head slightly, watching for your reaction. "Big guy. Dark hair. Blue jacket. Something with DAA. Broke in and left after a while."

"Wait— How do you…? Sylus. You had told him to remove the security cameras from your place. A thousand thoughts race through your mind. Who? Why? DAA… Your heart stutters. "Caleb?" you whispered, your voice tight.

Luke gives a slow nod. "If that’s his name. Looked pissed as hell. Do you know him?"

Why the hell would Caleb break into your apartment? Is he again stepping over your boundaries? He was the one who didn't reply to your messages. Not even when you were almost begging for at least an "I’m okay". You shake your head. Maybe he came to Linkon for another reason? This is too much… You left the club past 2 AM, and not long after, Rudy’s men grabbed you. He couldn’t have known you were missing—not that quickly. So why was he there? 

"You’re sure he left?" you ask, voice tighter than before.

Luke shrugs. "Didn’t stay long. In and out." He paused, his gaze sharp and unwavering. 

Your mind reels. Caleb. The same Caleb who had been acting weird since he came back. Now he just happens to show up at your place in the middle of the night. None of this makes sense. And you hate not knowing.

"Wasn't Caleb someone in your family who died in an explosion? And then you accused Boss Man of being responsible for it?"

Yeah, I was trying to forget that part… You let out a slow breath, trying to focus, to push down the creeping paranoia crawling up your spine. "He's..." You trailed off, focusing on the screen. 

One more problem to deal with later. Right now, you don’t have time to deal with it nor do you have the patience to explain yourself. Who knows if Sylus already is aware that Caleb is alive. You haven’t told Sylus about Skyhaven… The weight of the past few hours is silently creeping into the cracks of your worn-out body and weary mind. 

You pull yourself together as best you can, your fingers move quickly over the keyboard, searching through directories, hidden logs, anything that might connect the dots. That’s when you notice it, something buried beneath layers of routine supply orders. A transaction log. You open the folder. Lines of purchase orders and shipments fill the screen, listing various high-end medical supplies—specialized equipment, containment units, proprietary formulas. Most of it looks standard for an underground lab. Your breath stills. That name. 

"We’ll need a copy" you murmur, without turning away from the screen. 

"What did you find?" You show him the files after you started the transfer to the cloud of Onychinus. It would be the safest place to copy the date and maybe later let it be analyzed by Zayne or even the Association.

"Nothing good. Look." 

"Ever." Luke reads. 

It’s everywhere you look. Ever, the most prestigious international business group, is basically supporting the whole Linkon City. Xander Sciences—acquired by Ever Group. Linkon University and the incident with Xavier, the manipulation of memories. Rafayel's mission, the island, Lemuria—all threads leading back to Ever. Zayne's insistence on keeping you away from the medical investigator. They were everywhere, their tendrils reaching into every corner of your life. 

"Fucking hell!" you breathe out, barely recognizing your own voice. Anger surges through you, sudden and overwhelming. You slam your fist against the table, hard enough to make the monitor tremble. The pain from your ribs flares instantly, but you don’t care. This wasn’t a coincidence. This wasn’t random. Chimera 1X9. You weren't just another test subject. You were meant to end up here. They’ve been watching. Funding. Moving the pieces while you and the others played right into it. Your pulse pounds in your ears.

Ever is always there, a constant shadow, a puppeteer's hand guiding every move. You lean back, stomach twisting. This wasn't just about Rudy, a petty crime boss. This isn’t just him trying to blackmail Sylus. It's bigger.  

"Luke," you asked, your voice barely audible, "did Rudy ask for a ransom?"

"Yeah" he said, his brow furrowed. "The Aether Core that Boss and you found a while ago… Why?" 

The pieces clicked into place, a chilling revelation. You feel the realization hit, a weight settling in your chest. This is about the Gaia Research Center. Your Aether Core. And, a wave of icy terror washed over you, Sylus' Aether Core. Three cores, gathered in one place. 

"It's a trap" you hissed, your breath ragged. 

Your mind raced, a frantic montage of fragmented data, connecting in a horrifying pattern. The lab. The experiments. Ever Group. Your Core. Sylus. They hadn't just been tracking you; they'd been herding you. You shoved yourself away from the terminal, a jolt of pain searing through your ribs. The truth was a glacial wave crashing over you.

"This place—this whole fucking kidnapping—it’s a setup." Your voice is tight, edged with urgency. Luke’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t look shocked. He exhaled through his nose, glancing toward the door like he expected trouble any second.

You shot him a glare, your pulse hammering. "Luke—!"

"Yeah, yeah, I heard you, Miss." sighing like you’d just told him they were out of coffee. "Always the same—traps, conspiracies…" he muttered, but his usual carefree drawl faltered for just a second. "That's way I told you that we need to get out" 

You roll your eyes, going back to the keyboard again, trying to pull up whatever files you can, but most of them are encrypted beyond your access level. It doesn’t matter—you don’t need a full report to see what’s right in front of you.

Luke exhaled sharply, rubbing the back of his neck, his expression grim. "We knew Rudy was being funded from somewhere. We traced the money, weapons, resources, everything. But we couldn't find the source." His voice hardened, a dangerous edge creeping in. 

You felt quiet for a moment. Connecting the dots. Ever wasn't just backing Rudy for his own twisted reasons. He wasn’t some rogue player in this game. He was a pawn. A tool. An errand boy. Every move Rudy made, every resource he had access to—he was never working alone. He was just supposed to deliver you. If Ever orchestrated all of this, if they knew about your Aether Core long before you did— Your stomach twists violently. There's no way Sylus could have come here without knowing this. 

"They wanted both of us here." you say quietly, almost thinking to yourself. Your heartbeat is a war drum in your ears. "Where is Sylus?" 

You glanced at the monitor, the progress bar crawling at a snail's pace. 13%... 17%... 

"Where is Sylus, Luke?" you repeat, sharper this time.

Before the boy could answer, the control room door slammed open with brutal force, the impact sending a jolt through the floor. Your breath hitched. The big guy, the one who'd left you bruised and battered, stood silhouetted in the doorway, his eyes burning with cold fury. He moved with a terrifying speed, a predator entering its prey's den.

"You're not getting away this time," he growled, his voice a low rumble. Luke was already moving, gun raised— Too late. The Big Guy swung an entire metal chair straight at him. It crashed into Luke's side, sending him skidding into a desk. His gun went flying, clattering across the floor.

"Son of a —!"

You had a second to react before the Big Guy turned on you. Your fingers tightened around your own gun. You fired. He dodged at the last second. The bullet grazed his shoulder, but he didn’t stop. Instead, he ripped a monitor off the desk and hurled it straight at your head. You barely managed to duck. Glass shattered against the wall behind you, shards raining down like knives.

Luke was already back on his feet, intercepting him with a well-aimed kick, determined to keep him from getting too close to you. He recovered instantly, barely phased, and countered with a brutal swing. But it wasn’t enough. Luke dodged, the force of the punch whistling past him. He threw a punch—blocked. The Big Guy caught his wrist, twisting hard—Luke gritted his teeth, countering with a brutal knee to the ribs. But the Big Guy wouldn’t budge, absorbing every hit like a tank. He pushed Luke back, step by step, his attacks relentless.

Then a massive fist slammed into Luke’s stomach. He doubled over with a sharp cough—and the Big Guy seized the moment. With terrifying strength, he lifted Luke and threw him into the nearest console. The impact sent sparks flying, the screen flickering wildly before dying completely.

You fired again—click. Out of bullets. Your heart pounded. You lunged for Luke’s gun, still lying on the floor. Before you could reach it avice-like hand caught your throat, yanking you upright. Your feet left the ground. Panic flared as you clawed at his arm, air vanishing from your lungs. Luke cursed, trying to push himself up, but the Big Guy wasn’t letting go. Your vision blurred at the edges, a mix of suffocation and the burning agony from your broken ribs. His grip tightened. Black spots danced in your vision. 

"Let her go!"

The control room door didn’t just open—it exploded inward. A deafening crack split the chaos, followed by a shockwave that sent papers and shattered glass flying. The Big Guy barely had time to turn his head. A shot rang out, sharp and thunderous. The bullet slammed into his shoulder, the sheer force ripping through muscle and bone. His grip on your throat loosened instantly. You collapsed to the ground, gasping, coughing violently as air rushed back into your lungs. The burn of oxygen seared your throat.

Above you, the Big Guy stumbled back, clutching his bleeding shoulder. Then—another shot. This one hit center mass. The impact launched him backward, his hulking body crashing through a desk, flipping it over before he finally hit the ground. The sheer force left a smear of blood across the floor. Smoke curled from the barrel of a sleek, brand-new rifle. Kieran stood in the doorway, shifting his stance, adjusting his grip like he was testing a fresh toy. He gave the rifle a small, appreciative nod. 

"Huh. Works like a dream." The Big Guy groaned, trying to move. Luke, who was already standing next to his brother, gave him the final bullet. His body jerked once before going completely still. Luke let out a sharp breath, rolling his shoulder as he lowered his gun.

Kieran flicked his gaze to you, still on the ground, rubbing your bruised throat. With a half-smirk, he muttered, "Oh good, you’re still alive."

"What took you so long?" the other twin complains, still breathless. 

"I would have arrived earlier if you hadn't let yourself get beat up. It still hurts." Kieran's gaze flicked to you as you pushed yourself up, still coughing. He extended a hand, and when you hesitated, still catching your breath, he sighed and grabbed you by the arm instead, hauling you to your feet.

"You look like shit" he remarked, unimpressed.

"Feel worse" you rasped, rubbing your neck. But there was no time to dwell on it. Your eyes darted to the terminal—was the data still transferring? Luke was already ahead of you, moving quickly to the computer. The screen was still lit, but amidst all the chaos, lines of text had been replaced with an error message flashing in angry red.

Transfer Interrupted.

You shoved past Luke, hands flying over the keyboard as you tried to override whatever had caused the disconnect. Your heartbeat pounded in your skull—after everything, after all this—no way in hell were you leaving empty-handed.

"Tell me we didn’t lose it" Luke said, voice tight.

Kieran glanced between the two of you, then at the wrecked room. "Hey! I just saved your asses, can I get a…"

"Shut up" you snapped, fingers working furiously. The system was sluggish, likely from the damage, but—

Yes. The progress bar flickered back onto the screen. 91%.

"It’s still going" you breathed.

Luke exhaled, tension leaving his shoulders. "We hold for nine percent, then we get the hell out."

Easier said than done. You didn’t know how much more time you had before reinforcements arrived. Kieran slung his rifle over his shoulder, leaning lazily against the overturned desk, keeping his eyes on the entrance. 

"I got a couple more rounds left. Hope they send more fun."

Luke shot him a glare. "If they do, I want to use it."

"Guys!" interrupting them "We need to find Sylus."

"What is she—?" Kieran looks at Luke and back to you "What are you talking about?" he scoffed, shifting his weight against the desk. "We weren’t sent here for a full-scale brawl. The plan is simple: get you out, get out alive. And Boss man wipes the floor with Rudy."

Luke sighed, glancing at the progress bar—94%—before looking back at you. "You don’t want to leave him. I get it. But if we stay any longer, we’re pushing our luck."

Your teeth pressed together, eyes darting between them and the still-loading progress bar. Your hands curled into fists. Your heart pounded, a frantic drum against your ribs, a counterpoint to the searing pain. 

"Of course, I know that!" you snap, the frustration expands in your chest. Your fists clench, rage bubbling under your skin. "I am not just gonna flee and hope he makes it out! Hope isn’t a fucking strategy!"

Sylus was brilliant, dangerous but even he wasn’t invincible. Not against something this calculated. He always does this. Leaving you behind, which is an incredibly annoying bad habit he has. Even from the beginning. Going on that island. Not giving you a single call, just to come back after days. Or ended up bandaging his wound after dangerous encounters, playing them down. Nor telling where or what he was doing. If you hadn’t dug into Rudy’s case, he would have disappeared without looking back. Leaving to protect you. That part, oh, you hate it the most. So, this lone-wolf act ends now. If he wants you by his side, he’s going to have to raise the stakes. And that means letting you go beyond and assuming the risk and consequences. 

The final chime of the terminal cut through the tension. Transfer Complete.

"I’m not arguing with you. I’m finding Sylus." You turned toward the door, ignoring the way your ribs screamed in protest.

Luke sighed, shaking his head. "Wait—"

Kieran let out a low whistle, adjusting his rifle. "Oh, for fuck’s sake." 

You didn’t stop. Couldn’t stop. The thought of leaving Sylus behind gnawed at you, clawing its way into your chest, making it hard to breathe. Before you could reach the door, a firm hand clamped down on your shoulder.

Kieran.

"You’re injured, and… barely standing," he said, his tone flat, but his grip unyielding. "This isn’t some romantic rescue mission. You’re going to get yourself killed."

Your nails bite into your palms, your voice tight. "I prefer dying by trying."

Kieran exhales sharply, dragging a hand down over his mask. "Great. And when you die trying, guess who’s next? Us. Because Sylus will fucking kill us both."

Luke just nods, expression flat. "Yeah, no thanks. I’d rather not get skinned alive today."

Kieran lets out a frustrated breath, pacing for half a second before stopping. The way you’re looking at him. Not reckless. Not desperate. Resolute. That quiet kind of determination that people only have when they’ve already made peace with the worst outcome. Kieran’s fingers twitch at his side. 

"Fine."

"Kieran—!" Luke facepalm himself.

"But," he cut him off. "I have two conditions. One—we do this smart, or I swear I’ll knock you out myself and drag your unconscious body back."

His brother scoffed. "I second that."

Kieran ignored him. "Two—you better make damn sure Boss doesn’t make us suffer for this. I am not in the mood to spend another month cleaning the damn library."

"Do you have any idea how many books are in there? Too many. The man hoards like he's preparing for the apocalypse." Luke complains. 

Kieran gave him a flat look. "And yet, you were the idiot who thought reorganizing them by color would be a good idea."

His brother lifted his chin, indignant. "It looked nice."

Kieran sighs, rolling his shoulders. "Anyways, there's only one way in and out, which means it’s gonna get messy."

You don’t bother hiding the small, determined smile that tugs at your lips. 

Luke nodded, already pulling up a holographic map on his wrist-mounted device. "Even if this level isn’t displayed here, it's still a maze. But I can get us to the hangar." 

"Then let's move" you said, your voice firm despite the tremor in your legs. The fear was still there, a cold knot in your stomach, but it was overshadowed by a fierce protectiveness. You would find Sylus, no matter the cost. And you would make Ever pay for what they'd done.

Kieran grabs you by the back collar of your jacket. "Stop right there, boss lady, at least tell us what’s your master plan."

___

Sylus sits on the sofa, the silence between him and Rudy stretching on endlessly. His posture remains perfectly composed, despite the mounting impatience gnawing at him. He’s played this game before—negotiations stretched thin with false pleasantries, leverage dangled just out of reach. But this isn’t just another job. This is you. And his patience is wearing thin as paper. The glass of whiskey remains untouched, the golden liquid swirling idly as he watches Rudy. The tension between them is almost tangible. Rudy leans back in his chair, tapping his fingers against the armrest. Stretching the conversation. Every word, every smirk, is a deceptive tactic, buying them precious time as they execute their plan in the shadows.

"You know," Rudy drawls, taking a slow sip of his drink. "I never pegged you for the sentimental type." He lets the words settle, savoring the moment before gesturing loosely. He watches for a reaction, for the shift in Sylus’s expression, but all he gets is that same unreadable stare. Unbothered. Unmoved. "Still," he muses, swirling the glass in his hand, "I have to admit—your taste is, as ever, exquisite. Especially when it comes to women." A short, sharp laugh cut through the air, followed by a glint of malice in his eyes. "She is a fighter. Like you." 

Sylus doesn’t move. Doesn’t blink. But there’s a shift—so subtle it’s almost imperceptible. A slow inhale through his nose, the faintest tension in his jaw. A flicker of "Keep that up and I’ll kill you now" behind his eyes. Rudy sees it. He feels it. And it's delicious.

He leans forward, the ice clinking softly in his glass. "Nothing to say?" He tilts his head, goading him. "Come on. You’re not as detached as you pretend to be. Tell me… was she always your weakness?" Rudy exhales a laugh, shaking his head. "No, no. Excuse me. That’s not quite right. Not a weakness. Is it… loveee." 

His gaze sharpens, watching for the tension in Sylus’s body. His smirk widens, for a moment Rudy’s mind flickers back to the first time he saw you. Back then, he was surprised. A woman standing next to Sylus? Pretty face, sure, but he hadn’t thought much beyond that. Well, he had underestimated you, like a damn idiot..

The memory is sharp, vivid. That one time you crossed paths, you had kicked his fucking ass. Not in some cheap, lucky-hit kind of way. No, you had humiliated him. Fast, relentless, knocking him on his back so hard he’d felt the impact for days. And the worst part? You had grinned while doing it. Fucking brat. And when he’d staggered back up, humiliated, pissed off beyond reason, he’d seen you standing right next to Sylus. Proud. Unapologetic. As if you belonged there. As if you had always belonged there. That was when he knew you weren't just a random chick or mere entertainment for him. You were his.

That thought makes Rudy’s smirk twitch, his irritation creeping in just enough to sharpen his next words. 

"You can try to play it cool, but I bet it’s driving you insane... Thinking about who’s got their hands on her right now. Wondering if she’s calling for you."

Sylus exhales slowly, like he’s indulging a child. "You’re reaching" he murmurs, finally meeting Rudy’s gaze, his voice calm. Too calm. 

He let out a low, mocking laugh. He shifts in his seat. "Relax. No need to get all worked up. Like I said, she is fine." He laughs again. "Okay, here is the thing about your lovely girl: She’s valuable." His eyes glint. 

"You’re not the type to ask questions, so let’s not pretend you care why she’s valuable," Sylus says, his tone smooth. "You’re just waiting to see which offer gets you the better deal."

Rudy lets out a mock-offended gasp. "That hurts. Truly. You act like I don’t have standards. Like I’d sell to the first buyer who waves some cash in my face. But you're right, I don't ask questions. I’m more the type to profit from the answers." He swirls his glass lazily, watching Sylus over the rim. "And right now, she’s worth quite a lot to some very eager buyers. People who would love to get their hands on her." His smile sharpens. "So tell me, Mr. Sylus… just how badly do you want her back?"

"You made your call, Rudy," Sylus’s tone was smooth and dangerously calm. "You named the Aether Core. Do you really want me to raise the stakes?" He let the silence stretch, his patience fraying, a dark undercurrent beneath his composed exterior. He'd initially pegged Rudy as a small-time hustler, a profit-driven arms dealer. Someone was pulling Rudy's strings, pushing him beyond his usual limits. Someone with influence and resources. If it weren't for that, Rudy wouldn't be talking to him like that.

"You’re not the one calling the shots, are you?" Sylus finally says. "Who's holding your leash?"

Rudy’s smirk twitches, just for a second. "I handle my own business" he says smoothly, but Sylus already sees the crack in his confidence.

"Who are you working for?"

"I don’t work for anyone." Rudy scoffs. "I take contracts. Make deals." He shrugs, but there’s tension in his shoulders. "This time? I just happened to land a very generous arrangement."

Lucrative, and convenient. Sylus’s mind sharpens. His thoughts turned to the evidence he had gathered. He knew Rudy had received substantial financial backing, shipments of advanced weaponry, and access to resources far beyond his usual reach. He is using you against him.

Who would have the means and the motive to orchestrate this? He considered the possibilities. A rival organization, perhaps, seeking to undermine him? Unlikely. They wouldn't use Rudy, a known quantity, a loose cannon. A government agency? Possible, but they would be more subtle, less… theatrical. That left one option, the one that always seemed to lurk in the shadows.

Ever Group.

They had the resources, the influence, and the sheer audacity to pull off something like this. And they had a history of manipulating events, of acquiring power through clandestine means. They were the perfect puppet masters. Sylus's mind worked quickly, analyzing the pieces of the puzzle. They wanted the Cores, that much was clear. But they also wanted you. And they were willing to go to great lengths to get them both. Or wipe Sylus from the map. A thorn in the eye.

Was Rudy playing both sides? It made sense. Take the resources, take the weapons, take the money—pretend to be a good little pawn. But in the end? He had always wanted the N109 Zone. Always wanted to dismantle everything Sylus built, take his place, rip him from the throne. But Rudy wasn’t stupid. He knew he couldn’t do it alone. So what if he played the long game? What if he let those people think he was working for them, took everything they gave him, and planned to use it all against Sylus in the end? A bargaining chip. That’s all you were to him. A means to an end. The only reason Rudy was still breathing was because of you. 

Before he can press further, Rudy sighs, stretching his arms. "Look, all you need to know is I haven't delivered her yet." He leans forward, grinning. "And if you want her back, you’re gonna have to offer me something really nice."

Sylus smiles slow.

"Here’s my offer… I won't burn this place to the ground."

Rudy shook his head with a superior smile. "I knew you’d say something dramatic like that. But let’s be real—you’re outnumbered, and your girl? Well…" His grin widens. "She’s not exactly in a position to be making escapes."

The words send a slow, simmering rage through Sylus’s veins, but before he can move, the alarms blare. Shouting. Scrambling.

"What the fuck—?" Rudy curses, standing abruptly as his radio crackles to life. 

His first thought is you. His second: The twins. If the alarms were screaming through the halls, that meant one of two things—either something had gone very wrong, or one of them had been stupid enough to go loud.

The shift in the room is immediate. The guards react on instinct, moving like a well-trained pack. The ones stationed near the exits fan out, reaching for their radios. Footsteps thunder overhead as those on the second-floor catwalk adjust positions, rifles raising slightly as their attention sharpens. Above him, the same bastard who’d been watching him since he arrived still hasn’t moved his aim. His rifle remains locked onto Sylus, finger resting just a little too easily on the trigger.

Sylus clenches his jaw, suppressing the frustration clawing at his throat. This is taking too long. His mind starts working through the possibilities, calculating every move. If they were compromised, extraction would be a bloody mess. But more than that—if you were involved, if you were the reason the alarm was blaring—he didn’t know whether to be furious or proud.

One of the guards rushes to Rudy, whispering something low and urgent. Sylus watches the man’s lips move, eyes narrowing as he tries to read them, but before he can catch the words… In one swift motion, Rudy pulls out a gun and shoots the man in the head. The body crumples to the floor with a sickening thud. Sylus doesn’t flinch. He just observes.

Rudy turns back to the others, unfazed. "Find her" he barks over the alarm, gesturing to another of his men. Sylus watches the scene unfold with detached amusement. A circus. A damn circus.

"Oh, have you lost what is mine?" Sylus says, his voice smooth with a hint of amusement, though there’s a cold edge to his words. Rudy barely spares him a glance, too caught up in barking orders, but Sylus doesn’t let him ignore him. He crosses one arm and places a hand to the side of his temple, tapping gently as he smiles cheekily. "This is embarrassing, Rudy. Do you always let things slip through your fingers, or is today just a special occasion?"

The muscle in Rudy’s jaw twitches.

"I want her alive." His voice lowers, sharpened steel beneath velvet. If Rudy was as smart as he claimed to be, he’d take his word seriously. His frustration is palpable as he orders his men around, trying to locate you. The unpredictability of the situation is eating at him. Sylus can see it in the way his fingers twitch, in the way his eyes dart toward the door as if expecting someone to come rushing in with news.

Rudy glares at one of his men, who fumbles with a tablet, scanning security feeds. Sylus catches a glimpse of flashing images—blurred figures moving through corridors, grainy footage of bodies slumped against walls. The power struggle unfolding in real-time. Rudy’s face twists in anger.

"You brought your fucking dogs into my business?" His voice is a growl, teeth bared. "This was a delicate negotiation."

Sylus huffs a quiet laugh, shaking his head as if Rudy just said something amusingly naive.

"You pulled a stunt like this, and you expected me to play nice?" Sylus huffs a quiet laugh, shaking his head. "Besides, they may be my employees, but they don’t always listen to me." His lips curl into even more dangerously smug. "Maybe if you hired people with half a brain, you wouldn’t be in this mess."

Rudy snaps his fingers at his men, rage simmering just under the surface. "Report."

The guard swallows before answering. "No sign of the girl. But we’ve got two intruders, armed. They’ve already taken out at least a dozen of ours."

Rudy drags a hand over his mouth, barely containing his rage. "Find them."

"If your men keep panicking, they’ll end up getting her killed." He leans forward slightly, his gaze steady. "And then, well…" He tilts his head, letting the implication sink in. This moment is a ripple, a distortion in something far deeper than sight or sound.

Sylus leans back, one leg bent lazily as if he’s got all the time in the world. But then— He exhales sharply, his smirk faltering as a sharp pulse rips through his skull. His fingers twitch before he drags a hand over his right eye, pressing the heel of his palm against the faint glowy eye.

The sensation is foreign but so familiar. It claws at his nerves, dragging him into something that isn't his own body, isn't his own suffering, and yet, it seeps into his bones like an echo.  And suddenly, the hangar isn’t the only thing he’s seeing. Cold metal. Harsh fluorescent light. He grits his teeth, steadying his breath as the flickering image of the operating table flashes behind his eyelids again. 

A table. Operating restraints. A man strapped against the operation table, trembling in fear. Then he feels it, the cold weight of a gun, pointing at him. For a second, his grip tightens, instinctively curling around the metal, but still just an eco in his mind. He’s not holding it but also he is. A wave of emotions hit him all at once. Confusion. Pain. Sorrow. Anger. Layering one on top of each other, beneath all of it as a grounding base: fear. It thrums through him like a living pulse. And this pulse is your, overlapping his own heartbeat until he can’t tell where you end and he begins.

Your rage. Your sheer, unrelenting hatred for the man on the table. You want him dead. No mercy but you hesitate, because you don't want to be carried away by those feelings. Sylus feels the force of your resolve, the sharp edge of your intent. 

As you wish, my beloved. 

Then he helps you pull the trigger. The sound doesn’t reach him—not in the hangar, not in reality—but the weight of it does. The recoil, the finality, the raw satisfaction that floods through you becomes his. For the first time in ages, it wasn’t just the flicker of an emotion or the whisper of a thought bleeding through your connection. 

Sylus pulls in a breath, then releases it, as he drops his hand from his eye, masking the unease simmering beneath his skin. The hangar returns, but the residual ache lingers, dull and intrusive. It takes him a second to remember where he is. Another to shove the sensation away. 

You’re truthly full of surprises. Does this mean…?

A pact sealed long ago in the shadows—souls split, entwined, exchanged. Your memories were awakening. His beautiful sorceress… He had been trying to force this for so long. Pushing, pulling, testing your limits—waiting for the moment your mind would crack open and let the past spill through. Just the humming of a long time lost song comes through your mind, the fragment of the ending of your fate back then. 

In the process of reminding you of the cruel history you shared. Leaving you bread crumbs wherever they were needed, he had fallen in love with you once again. With who you were now, not so far from who you were then. He didn’t want to hurt you, but he couldn’t lie to you either. What would happen the day you remembered everything? Sylus didn’t know whether to feel relief or fear. Would you still look at him the same way? Or would you see the fiend he truly is and pull away? 

Sylus’ fingers tapped against his knee. Why now? Was it the stress? Something had changed. And whatever it was… It meant the past was clawing its way back into the present. 

The game of running back and forth between the guards continues for quite a while. The fact that Rudy hasn't attacked him is because he still wants to make the deal. Catching you before the twins do would keep him in the lead. Sylus can only wait, intervening isn't a good idea. 

The alarms cut out. The sudden silence is deafening, pressing in on them like a weight. It’s almost worse than the blaring noise before.  His radio crackles again. Desperate voices. "Something’s wrong. We’ve lost—" Silence.

The transmission dies.

Sylus can feel the shift, the way Rudy processes the situation in real-time—his plan unraveling, control slipping through his fingers. 

Minutes passed, but then—finally—Sylus’s earpiece crackles to life.

"We have her. But Boss…"

The world narrows. The possibility that you’re hurt. The fact that he can’t see you, that he doesn’t know what’s happening in this very second—it digs into him like glass splinters under the skin. An unfamiliar tightness knots in his chest. 

"Miss has a plan." 

Sylus growls low. He doesn't like where this is going. The plan was extraction. Get in, get you out, eliminate anyone in the way. No unnecessary complications. No risks. If you had resisted, the twins were supposed to drag you out if necessary. And now? Now, you have a plan. You aren’t supposed to be the one planning anything right now. Why can’t you just—?

You’re stubborn. Reckless. Imposible. 

He forces out a slow breath, trying to keep his temper in check. This is exactly what he wanted to avoid. His pulse thrums against his skin, a slow, pounding reminder that this isn’t just frustration—it’s fear. The kind he never allows himself to feel. The kind that only you can pull out of him. For a moment, just a moment, he considers shutting it down. Ordering Luke and Kieran to override you and get you out, kicking and screaming if they have to.

Then, against his better judgment, a slow smirk tugs at the corner of his lips. You’re doing it again. The frustration burning in his chest twisted, wrapped and changed, spreading in his chest. It should piss him off. But it doesn’t. This is who you are. His reckless, infuriating kitten. He remembers one of these nights where you were hunting Wanderers. A night drenched in neon haze. You were supposed to fall back. Wait. But instead, you lunged. Straight into the chaos, moving like a streak of light cutting through the abyss. Wanderer screaming, closing in from all sides. You could have run. You should have. But instead, you had gripped his hand, squeezing hard to resonate once more.

"Together" That’s all you had said. And he understood. How could he not?

No matter how much you drove him insane, tested his patience, pushed him to the edge, he couldn't let you fall. Because losing you isn’t an option. It never has been. It never will be. That’s why he prefers to hold your hand. Because if you fall then he’ll fall with you. Gladly. Without hesitation. Every damn time. Even if it kills him.

Sylus tilts his head slightly. He will just make the twin pay for this. But right now? Right now, you have his full attention. 

"I’m listening." 

Navigator: Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | AO3

A/N: I must admit that this chapter was difficult for me to write because I had to be very clear about everything that’s happening. In my original story, which was much shorter, I hadn’t planned for all of this, so I had to make some decisions—decisions that will lead us into chapter 5.

I hope you enjoyed it and want to keep reading!

Released date: ~2 weeks. Chapter 5: Gravity

[lookslikethatsallthetimewehave]

Duck Game Worker: unnamed

Food Stand Worker: unnamed

Weight Guesser: unnamed

Ferris Wheel Worker: unnamed

Strength Test Worker: unnamed

Tunnel of Love Worker: unnamed

Midway Workers: Ralph and Macchio...

Alright.

[unpopularvivian]

Me: James count how many grains of sand is here

RW James: Ok! One, two, three, four, five

RW Edward: why the fuck would you make him do that? It’s gonna take so long! Golden

RW James is still counting as Me and Edward talk

Me trying not to laugh: It passes the time

RW Edward: it’s gonna be so annoying

Me: I’m curious what the biggest number is

RW Edward: No he’s just going to be counting forever!

Me clearly failing not to laugh

RW Edward: Golden

RW James: 28, 29, 30. There’s only 30 million sand particles in this desert

Me: see that was easy :D

RW Edward: oh fuuuuuuuck

RW Henry: WERE NOT DEAD YET BITCHES

RW Edward: Shut the fuck up henry I’m not in the mood

RW Henry: so we’re ignoring the fact James counted sand? ……. Ok then 👍

IM CACKLING IN LAUGHTER IN THE DISTANCE BECAUSE I WALKED AWAY

MC Duck: Counting sand???? I wanna join as well!!!!

*MC Duck and RW James both start counting sand as the others look befuddled*

[sluts4matt]

y/n teasing Matt or Chris in public so he takes you to the bathroom and fucks the shit out of you

STATE FAIR

pairing: rough!dom matt x latina!reader

summary: you had been teasing him the majority of the day and he was finally tired of it.

warnings: SMUT, dumbification, light gagging, bondage, degradation, praising if you squint, pet names, dirty talk, public, p in v, teasing, orgasm denial, slight overstimulation, hairpulling

word count: 1058

author's note: hmmmm, do i like it? you ask (you don't actually care) i love it and i hope you do too 🥰

it had been a while since you had been to a fair, the loudness of the people and the clutter-ness making you cling to your boyfriend matt's side more than usual.

his brothers nick and chris led the way to some games, matt's hand wrapped tightly around yours as he stuck to your side.

"you look pretty by the way," he whispered, swiftly ducking his lips to your ear. you smiled softly, giving him a quick peck on the lips. "thank you, love."

"come on, guys!" nick shouted, and the two of you turned to see the boys looking at you with amused smiles. "do i get to win you a prize?" he asks, seeing you eye a pink and white unicorn.

"if you want, love." you said, the two of you walking over.

matt was the first to go, taking the ball and aiming it. you watched in surprise as it bounced off the rim, matt cursing.

you giggled as he looked at you muttering an 'i got this' before turning back to the game.

you walked over, wrapping your arms around his middle as he aimed again. "can i try?" you ask, watching as he misses again.

he looks down at you, sighing and giving the ball over. you take your spot in front of him, aiming the ball at the target. a small smirk appears on your lips before you wiggle your hips around, your ass pressing against the fabric of his crotch.

you giggle, hearing him grunt and hold you by the waist, you throw the ball and make it.

"i knew i had this." you say, turning to look at matt and smile.

he stares down at you, a small glare on his face. "what?" you mumble innocently, a fake pout forming on your lips as your grab the unicorn from the worker.

"you know what." you shrug your shoulders with a hum, walking up to catch up with nick and chris, your hips teasingly swaying.

a few minutes pass and the two of you find yourselves in line for some cotton candy, the boys deciding they wanted something sweet.

matt stands behind you, his hand wrapped around your waist tightly. his chest rested against your back, his chin on top of your head.

you occasionally wiggled your hips around, claiming 'you were trying to get comfortable' as his grip on your waist tightens.

"stop." he mutters in your ear, his voice sending a shiver down your spine. you tilt your head up, smiling at him innocently. "i have no idea what you're talking about," you say cheekily, before looking ahead again.

you can hear his groan, feeling his head fall to the crook of your neck. you giggle, feeling him nibble the skin gently, his tongue running over the bite marks.

"you're gonna pay for that." he whispers, his teeth tugging on the skin lightly.

"promise?" you ask, a smirk on your face. "promise," he mocks, already dragging you away.

"matt! the cotton candy!" you shout, pointing to the stand. "fuck the cotton candy," he says, dragging you towards the bathroom.

"but- but matt." you whine, letting yourself be dragged away. he rolls his eyes, his grip on you tightening. "if you keep complaining, i'm gonna tie you up," he threatens.

"matt, the cotton candy," you whine again, your voice teasing. you watch him growl, dragging you into the men's bathroom and shoving you into a stall.

"matt what are you doing?" you ask, gasping as he pins you against the door, his hand covering your mouth. "shut up," he mutters, his lips pressing against your neck, the hand not covering your mouth unbuttoning your jeans.

he tugged the zipper down, watching the material loosen around your hips. his pants were the next to go, the boy quickly tying his belt around your wrist, looping it around the bag holder that hung at the top of the door to keep your arms above your head.

"this is a new level of kinky, matt," you tease, earning a small smack to your thigh. "do you ever shut up?" he mumbles, a small glare appearing on his face. "nope," you respond, popping the 'p'.

he rolls his eyes, pulling his cock out and lining it with your cunt. he doesn't bother warning you, thrusting into you with one motion.

you moan, his hand covering your mouth once more. he moves his hips, thrusting in and out of you quickly. his hand grabbed your leg, pushing it up by the bend of your knee.

"look at how good you're taking my cock, baby." he grunts, his hand moving from your mouth to wrap around your throat.

your eyes rolled back, feeling him tighten his grip slightly, his hips hitting against yours harder. "such a pretty little slut," he mutters.

your moans grew louder, the pleasure overwhelming. he growled, his hand covering your mouth again as he thrust into you faster.

"you like being fucked in public, hm?" he taunted, watching as your body moved with each thrust and your eyes rolled back into your head.

he pressed his thumb into your mouth, pushing it down onto your tongue and watching as you drooled. "you're so fucking disgusting." he muttered, his fingers squeezing the sides of your cheeks as he forced his thumb deeper into your mouth.

you groaned, feeling him pull out quickly undoing the belt and spinning you around, your ass pressing into him. he gathered your wrist behind your back, retying the belt around them.

he pulled his shirt over his head, tying it around your mouth. he held his hand over it, the other resting on your shoulder as he rammed his cock back into your pussy, watching it squeeze around his dick.

"so fucking tight," he mutters, his head rolling back in pleasure. "such a perfect little slut, all for me." he continues, his grip on your shoulder tightening as his hips move quicker.

the sounds of his hips hitting yours echo throughout the room, your muffled moans filling the air as well.

he groaned, the sight of your ass bouncing back onto his cock turning him on more. "gonna cum, pretty girl?" he asked, his hand wrapping around your hair and yanking it back.

you nodded, letting out a muffled whine as you clenched around him.

"you wanna cum?" he asked, earning a series of muffled moans in response.

"say it. say it, and i'll let you cum." your back arched more as more whimpers and whines left your lips instead of the words he wanted to hear.

"then i guess you don't want to cum." he taunts, knowing you couldn't have responded with a shirt around your mouth.

your eyes roll back, tears of frustration pricking at the corners of your eyes as you feel him continue to fuck into you.

he let's out a dark chuckle, the sound making you clench around him more. "aw, baby. you gonna cry because i won't let you cum? pathetic," he taunts, the hand holding your wrists tugging on them, the leather digging into your skin.

you whimper, your hands curling into fists as he thrusts his hips into you roughly.

"i'll let you cum," he says, "but i wanna hear you beg for it."

"mhm," you whine, the shirt still restricting any actual words. he tugs it down, and the second it hits your chin, you let out a series of pornographic whines.

"matt, fuck. please let me cum," you whimper, the sound of the door opening and a pair of footsteps walking in making matt wrap his hand around your mouth to quiet you.

his pace slowed down as he continued to thrust into you deeply, hitting your cervix each time. "shh," he mumbled, leaning closer to your ear as the two of you hear the person walk into a stall.

"can't let him hear what a desperate whore you are." he says, a small smile appearing on his lips. his pace picked up hearing the urinal flush and the water start running.

you bite your lip, your eyes rolling back as he fucked into you. you could feel the tears of pleasure pricking at your eyes again, the boy not bothering to slow his pace.

you could hear the water turn off and the door open and close, the person leaving.

"please," you begged, tears starting to stream down your face. "please, please, please, matt," you babbled, not being able to form an actual sentence. he chuckled, his pace picking up more.

"oh my, mm, fuck, fuck, god yes," you whimpered, your legs shaking as he continued to pound into your pussy. "such a dumb little toy for my cock," he muttered, his hips smacking into yours.

"cum for me, pretty girl," he commanded, his hand gripping your hips tightly. your moans echoed around the room as he fucked you through your orgasm, the feeling of him releasing inside of you not being missed.

he pulled out, watching as his cum leaked out of you and down your leg.

he untied the shirt and belt, watching as you turned to face him, a lazy smile on your face as you stumbled slightly.

"aw, my pretty baby all dumb and happy," he said, a smirk on his face as he watched your dazed smile and droopy eyes.

"my dumb little toy," he muttered, placing a gentle kiss on your lips. "i love you," he muttered, a smile on his face. "love you too," you slurred, smiling up at him.

tag list:

@hysteria-things @tillies33ssss @soimightlikeoldmen69 @sturniolossss @freshsturns @lily-strnlo @etvar12 @iloveurgf @sstvrnioloo @junnniiieee07 @sturnioloa @chrryclouds @sturniolho @mayhem-72 @nicksmainbitch @sturniolowhore @imwetforyourmom @novasturniolo03 @catalina-island @stars4chratt @gbaabyyyy @monkeyscientist22

[kayhi808]

First Crush - 11

You just walk into the event site and it's already a win. They gave Abby a paper wristband and she thinks they gave her a bracelet as a gift. It's going to be a fight later when you have to cut that off her.

Bucky leans down to you, "What's the game plan?"

"Maybe we can walk through everything first, to see what they have and see what Abby likes? Is that ok?"

"Sure, whatever you want, doll."

Looking at Abby up on his shoulders, "Let me know when you want me to carry her. Or you can let her walk. She can get heavy."

Giving you an insulted look, "I'm a super soldier. My ruck sack is heavier than she is."

You put your hands up in surrender, "Sorry, Super Soldier." You adjust Abby's backpack on your back and follow them. You weren't sure what they'd have here, so you packed some of Abby's necessities, but you don't think you'll be needing it. There's a section marked off for a dozen or so food trucks, a small stage & tents sent up. Some families where on blankets having picnics. Others were under the tents. "I've never taken Abby to Coney Island or a fair like this before. This is all new to her." You look up at Abby & she is so wide-eyed trying to take everything in.

You stop at the tent of Midway Gallery of Games. You watch people play trying to win stuffed animals & all sorts of prizes. Some of the Agents were yelling & getting rowdy in their competition. You look up and you notice Abby looking frightened & covering her ears. "Baby?" You hold your arms out to her, and she frowns & reaches out to you. "It's ok." Bucky deposits Abby into your arms & rubs her back. "It's a little too loud, huh?" You make your way out of that section & head to the rides. "Ok, this is better. It's quieter out here."

You walk pass the rides, Abby showing zero interest. She has her thumb in her mouth & snuggled into your neck. All the noise and lights were too much for her. You walk a little further and come across a petting zoo. "Abby, look!" You put her down & hold her hand, leading her to the pens.

"It stinky, Mama." Bucky laughs as she scrunches her nose.

"But what are those?"

She squeals, "It's baby duckies!" You let Abby run over to the pen & one of the workers walks up to her with a duckling in her hands and asks Abby is she'd like to pet it. "Mama?" You smile & nod. She's so good & gentle with it. You pull out your phone wanting to get pictures, and the worker takes Abby to a stool to sit & places the duckling in her lap. She's so adorable, You thank the worker & Abby waves goodbye.

"Mama did you sees me? The baby duck sat on my lap!"

"I did, Baby! You were so good with the duckling." And that's how the next half hour goes by. You visit all the babies. PIg, chicken, rabbit, lamb, horses, cows...the baby goats were a little too wild for her. Abby ran to Bucky asking for "upsies".

"I'm ready for a snack. Who wants a treat?" Abby gives you a quick look to see what your reaction is. You raise your hand, so Abby copies you & yells out "Me!" You go to a nearby stand to pick out some lemonade & ice tea in Avenger logo mason jars. You're ready to pay for it, "I'll get it, my treat."

"It's all taken care of. Stark is picking up the tab. The food, rides, games, it's all unlimited."

"That's insane, Buck!" He shrugs and hands you another lemonade. He noticed you were just going to share one with Abby, which you happily take. He grabs a churro for you all to share. He wanted to get one in every flavor for Abby, but you nixed that idea. The last thing you need is for her to get a tummy ache. And you already know you want to get her cotton candy later. That'll be enough sugar to blow her mind.

You take a break to eat your snacks & sanitize your baby after touching all the animals. You bring out the baby wipe & hand sanitizer. Bucky laughs at you, but Abby doesn't care because she now smells pretty, not like the stinky animals.

Now that she's in a better mood, you'll give the rides another round & see if she's interested. She did a round in the jumper house. You're so worried because she's so little and you don't want her to get trampled on, but that's part of being a kid. She fell down & couldn't get back up with all the other kids jumping but she was laughing as she crawled to the wall to get herself back on her feet. She came out of there all sweaty & cheeks pink from laughing.

Then the 3 of you went on the ferris wheel. She didn't want to go until you said you'd all go together & that she could sit in the middle so she'll be safe. She had a tight grip on Bucky's Vibranium arm, but after the first time around, she relaxed and enjoyed it. She could see everything being so high up. Bucky said they could ride it again at night so they could see all the lights and maybe even the fireworks.

The Carousel was next. "Do you want to ride the pretty horses?"

"Oh Mama!" She tries to spin you so she can see her backpack, "It's a unicorn, like i gots!"

Bucky laughs, "You want to ride that one?"

"Yes! I needs to." She jumps up & down. You all wait in line for the next group to enter. Once Abby gets up to the gate, Bucky scoops her up and makes a mad dash to find the unicorn. You hear her screaming with laughter. You try to chase after them. Abby is pointing him in all different directions & giggling. Finally they capture the unicorn for Abby to ride. You take quick pictures of Bucky & Abby with her unicorn. "Mama lookit!"

"It's so pretty! You look like a fairy princess, baby!" There's so much joy on her face you want to break down & cry.

Buck nods over at the horse across from Abby, "Get on."

"No, I don't..."

"Yes, Mama! You needs to!"

"I got her," Bucky resting his arm around Abby's back. "Ride with Abby."

You climb up on the horse as the ride starts and you feel silly and carefree all at the same time. When was the last time you were on a carousel? "Mama, you looks like the fairy QUEEN!"

Bucky looks up at you, "She sure does." You feel your cheeks heat under his gaze.

The ride was over way to quickly. Bucky helps you both off your horses & escorts you outside the gates where Steve awaits you all. "Mr. Captain, you sees my unicorn? I rides him & didn't falls off." Steve so surprised that Abby's even acknowledging him, he laughs.

" You know what? I did. I saw you and your Mama racing up there, and i think you won."

Abby covers her mouth with her hands & giggles, "Mama, I wons you!"

Bucky wraps his arms around you, pulling you back against him, "Did you? Mama was going really fast."

"No, I wons. Mr Captain says so."

"Well, if Mr. Captain says so," Bucky shrugs.

"You guys had lunch yet? Or visited the food trucks?"

"Not yet. Are you hungry Abby? Want to find lunch?" She nods & jumps up and down.

There's so much food and snacks to choose from. The guys end up with BBQ plates and you and Abby are sharing pizza and tacos. You're enjoying your break when Abby stands up on the bench and starts waving, "Frien'! Frien'!" You look around to see who she's calling. "Mama, pretty lady!"

"Natasha."

"N'asha! N'asha!" Abby jumps down & runs to Nat. Bucky's already on his feet ready to follow her. Natasha sees her & picks her up and walks her back over. You can see your baby's mouth moving a mile a minute. "But the goat was jumping and jumping. I's so scared, but Bucky lifts me so they can't gets me."

Taking a seat next to Bucky, "Wow! You had some excitement, huh?"

Climbing on the bench next to you, "It was baby but it was big like me. Ands you know what?"

"What?"

Gulping for air because she's talking so much, "Mama & I race, and my unicorn won. Mr. Captain says I wons her!" Abby claps for herself.

"You won. Not you wons her." You roll your eyes but inside you heart in overflowing with love for her excitement and how everyone is so kind to her. You were so worried about being a single parent and not being able to give your baby the life you wished for her. But you think you'll actually be able to do that. Things are looking up for you both. She's going to remember this day for a long, long time. You both will.

Next chapter

@waywardhunter95 @rebeccapineapple @ordelixx @onceithough @crazyunsexycool @thezombieprostitute @ilovetaquitosmmmm @julvrs @unaxv @s-a-v-a-n-a-34 @winterslove1917 @ozwriterchick @mrs-bucky-barnes-73 @mrsnikstan @hisredheadedgoddess28 @itsteambarnes @otterlycanadian @purplecolordeer @samsgirl93 @buckitostan @blackbirdwitch22 @littleredwolf @mcucatlady @silas-aeiou @hzdhrtss @florie1 @thecubanator2 @enchantedbarnes @selella

[doliveiraa]

arcade date - lee felix

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pairings : bf!felix x fem!reader

genre : fluff :3

warnings : swearing, and kissing

a/n : i got this idea from when i went to the arcade the other day with my friends! hope you enjoy, feedback and reblogs are appreicated! :)

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you knew you were in trouble the second felix walked out of the car with a mischievous grin and a bag of coins.

“you’re going down,” he said, tossing a coin in the air and catching it with a snap of his wrist like he was in a movie. “i hope you didn’t wear that cute outfit just to lose.”

you raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms. “bold of you to assume i didn’t come here to destroy you in dance dance revolution.”

felix just laughed, soft and sun-bright, stepping closer and nudging his shoulder against yours. “we’ll see about that, princess.”

the arcade was lit up like a dream—neon lights humming overhead, the glow of screens flickering across your faces, the loud clash of retro game sounds filling every corner. the smell of popcorn, cheap pizza, and plastic tokens clung to the air like a memory. it was the kind of place that made you feel like a kid again, only this time, you had felix’s hand tugging you along and his excited voice whispering, “let’s do this one next!”

you started with air hockey. simple. harmless. or so you thought.

felix had this wild concentration when he played—brows furrowed, bottom lip caught between his teeth, tongue poking out slightly when he was really in the zone. it was distracting.

and he was good. like, suspiciously good.

“you’ve done this before,” you accused, ducking when the puck zipped past you for the third time.

“maybe,” he said with a smirk, tapping his paddle on the table cockily. “what can i say? i’m competitive.”

you narrowed your eyes. “you’re fucking evil.”

“you love it.”

he wasn’t wrong.

when you moved to the claw machines, he got extra soft, helping you pick the perfect angle to line up the claw with a stuffed bunny.

“a little to the left—no, my left—yes, just there.”

you pressed the button and held your breath.

the claw gripped the bunny’s ears, lifted it with a shaky hold… and dropped it halfway to the chute.

you groaned. “ugh. rigged.”

felix chuckled and slid another coin into the slot. “nah, we’re getting that bunny.”

you looked at him. “really?”

he nodded. “you liked it. so i wanna win it for you.”

your heart may have skipped a beat.

he tried twice, failed just as miserably as you did, but on the third try—somehow, miraculously—the claw clamped down and didn’t let go.

“angel, look!” he beamed, grabbing the bunny from the chute and holding it up like it was a trophy. “for you.”

you took it, cheeks warm, smiling stupidly at the plush in your hands. “i’m naming him after you.”

“felix the bunny?”

“exactly.”

he winked. “he’s already cuter than me.”

“don’t push it,” you said, but you were already leaning into him, bunny pressed to your chest and the scent of his cologne wrapped around you like a favorite hoodie.

you tried every game. mario kart. skee ball. basketball shootouts. he even made you try that terrifying vr zombie game that made you scream loud enough for the worker behind the prize counter to laugh.

but the highlight—the true showdown—was the dance dance revolution machine.

“you sure?” you asked, already stepping onto the glowing platform.

felix cracked his knuckles. “i was born ready.”

the music blared, fast and intense, arrows flying up the screen like they had a personal vendetta against you. you stomped and jumped and spun and almost fell twice, but you kept going, breathless laughter escaping your lips as felix cursed beside you.

by the end of it, you were both sweaty and gasping for air, doubled over with your hands on your knees.

“okay,” felix said between breaths. “you win. you’re… insane.”

“thank you,” you grinned.

he grabbed your wrist and tugged you closer, eyes shining with heat and joy. “but next time, i’m picking the song.”

“next time?” you asked, raising a brow.

“yeah,” he said softly, suddenly quieter, his hand brushing your waist. “we’re definitely doing this again.”

your stomach flipped.

before you could say anything, he leaned in and kissed you, quick and sweet, his lips tasting like cherry slushie and something warmer underneath. he pulled back with a lopsided smile.

“i just really wanted to kiss you next to a glowing dance floor like a cheesy teen movie. let me have this moment.”

you laughed. “you’re such a dork.”

“your dork,” he reminded, linking his fingers with yours.

you wandered over to the photo booth, because of course you had to, and squished inside together. the curtain barely closed around you, his thigh pressed against yours, his cheek brushing your temple.

the machine gave you five seconds per photo.

first one: peace signs.

second: him kissing your cheek.

third: you covering your face with the bunny while he laughed.

fourth: kissing you passionately.

he looked at the printed strip and tucked it into your back pocket. “souvenir.”

you sighed. “this might’ve been the most fun i’ve had in forever.”

“same,” he said, brushing his fingers over your jaw. “it’s always good, but with you… it’s just better.”

you leaned into him as the lights flickered around you, as the games beeped in the background, as time folded itself into a warm memory you’d replay over and over.

arcades weren’t supposed to be romantic. but somehow, with felix, even the loudest chaos felt like magic.

doliveiraa ꪆৎ ― est. june '24 © do not copy or repost my content on other platforms.

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[niqhtlord01]

Humans are weird: Average Day

( Please come see me on my new patreon and support me for early access to stories and personal story requests :D https://www.patreon.com/NiqhtLord Every bit helps)

“And down here is where you’ll be working.”

The human foreman pointed towards the enclosed office overlooking the factory floor. Several dozen workers were moving between the various fabrication machines performing their duties while Zilgron watched them from above.

It was his first day as an overseer and his superior was giving him a tour of the facility he was to command per his contractual obligations. The workforce, including his superior who was giving him the tour, largely seemed to be human, and they were surprisingly okay with an alien acting as their immediate boss. He had inquired as to why that was and his human superior shrugged in an indifferent manner.

“Look, these guys are pros and know what they are doing.” He began as he opened the door to the office and ushered Zilgron in. “They don’t have time to worry about stupid things like if you’re purple or have three penises.”

He stopped as if realizing something. “That was an example and not an inquiry to your physical nature; please don’t contact HR.”

“What is this “HR”?” Zilgron inquired.

His supervisor smiled. “Oh, we’re going to get along just swell.”

He took a seat at a console facing a large window which oversaw the floor and motioned for Zilgron to sit next to him.

“If these workers are as well trained as you say,” Zilgron began as he took the offered chair, “why then do you require the skills of an overseer?”

“I learned very early on that if you give these types of lads an inch they’ll take the house from right under you.” He replied. Zilgron’s lack of expression must have showed as he further expanded on his explanation.

“Sometimes if you are too lax with rules they will start to slack off, which is where you come in as you are here to keep them in line, make sure our quota is being fulfilled, and step in if something serious happens.”

As his supervisor was breaking into a long drawn out story of his youth and first profession, Zilgron looked out the window and saw something was happening on the factory floor.

One of the barrels containing wasteful byproduct from the fabrication machines slipped from the forklift carrying it and clattered to the floor. The barrel cracked open in several places spilling a thick green substance across the factory floor. The forklift that had been carrying the barrel rolled into the green goo and began skidding out of control; flinging the driver from the seat before coming trapped in a perpetual loop of circling in place.

Several more barrels it had been carrying were flung like rockets and began shattering across the factory floor. Several workers who heard the commotion turned to see only for a barrel to collide with them and send them tumbling to the floor.

To Zilgron’s surprise the other workers, rather than begin panicking at the unfolding chaos, began pointing and laughing. Some even made a game of dodging the incoming barrels.

He wanted to speak up to the supervisor but they were still in the middle of a story and he felt locked by social convention to wait for them to complete. So he continued to observe the unfolding worksite accident.

Further confounding his understanding of humans, one of the workers began attempting to board the runaway forklift. The worker ducked and weaved under the metal arms, avoiding several more barrels being flung from it, before grabbing hold of the machine and hoisting himself up.

Instead of disabling the machine the human worker instead held up a fist in triumph to the now cheering masses of human workers, all the while standing atop the forklift that was continuing to spin in circles.

Having noticed Zilgron was no longer looking at him, his supervisor turned to follow his gaze and saw what had happened down on the factory floor.

“Oh god damnit.’ He sighed before flipping a switch to activate the loudspeaker.

“What the hell I tell you boys about securing the barrels!?” he shouted down to them. Every human’s head turned to look at the office, incidentally resulting in the human who had boarded the forklift being tossed from it as he was distracted and landing amongst the green slime before sliding across the floor leaving a long streak.

This brought another sigh from his supervisor as the humans began laughing again. “Just clean this shit up and get back to work.”

Zilgron could hear a collective murmur of agreement from the workers before someone else rushed the forklift and was able to turn it off.

“Should I not take action?” he asked. To his surprise his supervisor shook his head.

“You only get involved if something serious happens.” He told Zilgron.

“Was this not serious?”

His supervisor shook his head again. “This is low tier, usually a quick shout from intercom is enough to straighten them out.”

“And what is top tier?” Zilgron inquired.

His supervisor paused to think. “Last time it was when the plant nearly exploded because someone left a candy wrapper in the atomic core after it had been cleaned nearly triggering a cascade failure.”

This was far from what Zilgron had expected as the human chuckled. “Funniest shit was we had two of those happen back to back with different wrappers from different people.”

“Were the workers fired?”

“No,” his supervisor replied, “they each had two strikes left and are still working down on the floor now.”

Zilgron looked down to see a couple of workers had grabbed the first worker who had jumped on the forklift and were using them as a mop to clean up to floor by dragging them around.

“How……how has this company not gone under?” Zilgron pondered unknowingly out loud.

“We provide a workforce that is the perfect balance of seemingly expendable while also highly productive.”

“Is this something to be proud of?” Zilgron asked.

His supervisor chuckled. “It is when I count the extra 0’s it pays on my paycheck.”