A/N: An anon request where the reader is really innocent, or she seems to be. She’s an intern for the BAU and does all these things that drive Reid crazy. One day he loses it, one thing leads to another, and some stuff happens at work ;) @coveofmemories@sexualemobitch@jamiemelyn
It had been three months since Y/N had started at the Bureau as an intern and it was safe to say he was losing his goddamn mind. If she wears that pencil skirt again I’m going to explode. When he looked up, sure enough, there she was, walking out from the elevator in that black pencil skirt that hugged her curves to perfection, accompanied by a purple silk blouse that flowed loosely around her and a delicate silver necklace that ended just above her breasts. She has to know where that draws the eye? Right?
As she headed toward his desk, he put his head in his hands, hoping to wipe the image of Y/N pinned up against the wall and his lips against her neck out of his mind. But no such luck. “Hey, Spencer,” she greeted. She bit her lip just slightly before she smiled; he’d noticed that she did it with him and with Emily, but no one else. “How are you this morning?”
Besides imagining your legs around my waist and your lips on mine, I’m swell Y/N. But that obviously couldn’t come out of his mouth, so instead he composed himself and decided on something less forward. “I’m okay. A little wired this morning. Probably too much caffeine. But otherwise okay.”
“That’s good,” she said softly, stifling a yawn as she turned toward the coffee maker. “I’m the opposite. I haven’t had any caffeine this morning. After I get a cup for myself is there anything I can help with?”
Y/N was low on the totem pole, even when it came to interns. She was a top-notch cyber hacker, just like Garcia, but she still needed fine-tuning to do what Garcia did, so she was here to work with her, and when Garcia had nothing for her to do, or there was no case, she was supposed to help any other member of the BAU with whatever they needed. A lot of times that meant grabbing coffee, fetching papers, and digging up files from the cabinets downstairs. “Well, if you wouldn’t mind grabbing me another cup of coffee while you’re over there I would appreciate it, and I do need some files from downstairs.”
“No problem.” Spinning on her heels, she headed back to the coffee machine before turning around once more. “You take coffee with your sugar, right?”
“Yea. Bad habit.” When she giggled, everything about her shined even brighter than before. Her soft curls bounced with each laugh. The laugh lines around her eyes crinkled - some might be put off by lines, but to him, they just proved how care free and light-hearted she was, which only made him like her more. Heart-shaped lips opened up into a giant grin. Basically, she smiled with her whole body.
As she finally went to grab coffee, he watched as she hurriedly grabbed cups, placing them where they needed to be before pressing the needed buttons on the machine. In her haste, a piece of her hair fell in front of her face. He watched as she blew a puff of air upward to move the piece of hair, and he couldn’t help but laugh as she repeated the motion over and over again; nothing was working. You must stop doing that. It was embarrassing how badly he had it for her. It was the simple things he did that drove him crazy. When she was running around like a chicken with its head cut off, trying to get everything for everyone (and succeeding), she’d place her phone in her bra, so he’d be tortured every time she touched herself. If she put her hair back, he nearly lost it - something about the act of her putting her hair up turned him on. Probably because you’re imagining what she might be doing immediately following putting her hair up.
It was basically pathetic. And it was getting to the point where other people were noticing. Morgan had, on more than one occasion, come up behind him and slapped him on the shoulders, saying he should just go for it because he obviously had it bad. He was so lost in his daydream, imaging her lips around his cock, when she came back with his coffee. Not appropriate, Spencer. “Now what files do you need?” she asked, placing his sugared coffee down on the desk.
Doing his best to keep the images out of his head (and failing miserably), he handed her a list of file numbers that he was looking for. “Okay, I’m still getting used to the system down there, which I think is going to go the way of the dodo soon because Penelope wants to make everything digital, but it’ll take me a bit to find them. I’ll be back as soon as I can.” Again, a piece of hair fell in front of her face and she grunted, clearly having what women called a ‘bad hair day.’ “The hair does not want to cooperate with me today.” The laugh that rumbled through her sent delicious shivers up his spine. He was not going to be able to go much longer without at least telling her how he felt about her. Not the I-wanna-fuck-you-up-against-a-wall thing, but the I-think-we-could-be-really-good-together thing.
Quickly, she turned around and put her hair up, sauntering away, leaving Spencer to stare at her ass as she rounded the corner to the staircase. I can’t do it. He stood up from the desk. I have to say something. At least, if she knows and doesn’t feel the same way, I can find a way to move past it. I have to know. She had a few minutes on him, but he’d probably be catching her just as she got to the file room.
Apparently, he’d been in some kind of state (which sucked because he thought he was masking it), because the second he stepped into the file room, Y/N spun around and dropped a file. “Oh, Spencer,” she breathed, “It’s just you. You scared me.”
“Sorry,” he said honestly. “I didn’t mean to.”
“Did you forget a case number you need?” Another thing she did was pushing her tongue up against her teeth when she smiled. There was something about it that was so sweet, he couldn’t help but crush harder anytime he saw her do it.
He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. “No, the cases are fine. It’s me.”
“You? What’s you?”
“I like you,” he said. Well, didn’t expect it to come out that quickly. Goddammit. “A lot.”
“Really?” She inhaled sharply, subconsciously placing her hand on her chest. Don’t do that. “Why me? I’m a nobody.” Did she really think that?
“Not to me,” he replied. “Ever since you started, I can’t stop thinking about you. You’re sweet, kind, funny, intelligent, not to mention beautiful.”
“I had no idea you felt that way about me,” she said. “Umm, I would be lying if I said I hadn’t thought about you too - a lot.” The blush that accompanied that last bit made him think that maybe ‘thinking about him’ meant exactly what he thought it meant.
Well that’s a relief. Locking the door behind him, he closed the space between them and brought her flush against him. At first, the kiss was tentative, feeling things out and trying to see if what they’d built up in their heads was just that or if it was real. He ran his lips up the side of her neck and back toward her lips and felt a jolt roll through him. This was without a doubt real. “Does that camera work?” she asked, looking toward the one camera above their heads.
“It doesn’t,” he breathed. With the risk of getting caught cut down to almost nothing, she unbuttoned her blouse, revealing a black, lacy bra, while he hitched up her skirt. Her panties matched. “You’re gorgeous.”
She palmed the bulge in his pants and licked her lips. The gesture was sexual before, but now, he was near explosion. Backing herself into the wall, she lifted her legs up around his waist and pulled the lace to the side. “Are you sure?” he asked. “I don’t want you to think that this is all I want. But I would be lying if I said I didn’t want this too.”
“Everyone has two sides to them, Spencer,” she breathed into his ear. “You said I was sweet. Well, I am, but I can be not so sweet too. I want this. You. Now.” Thank whatever deity existed. He reached down and pushed his boxers off as much as was necessary. When he slid inside her, both let out an audible groan, which they had to stifle for fear of being heard.
He pushed up, luxuriating in the feel of her legs gripping tighter around his waist. “Go ahead,” she said, biting down gently on his earlobe. “Fuck me while our co-workers are upstairs.” He was pretty sure he was about to explode into a billion little pieces. Her hands had wandered to behind his head, but he really wanted to fulfill that image in his head of taking her up against the wall, so he reached back, grabbed both of her hands and placed them above her head so he was in control. “Oh my god.”
As he pushed up into her wet heat over and over again, the silk blouse fell to the sides revealing taut peaks underneath delicate lace. He buried his face into her chest as she arched back off the wall, moaning his name in his ear. “You’re so wet,” he breathed, licking a trail up her chest and meeting her lips again.
“For you. I’ve thought very bad things about you since I started.”
She bore down with her pelvic muscles, constricting his cock in such a way that he knew he wouldn’t last much longer. “Well, the first thing I thought about was having my lips around your cock.”
He grunted at the thought and pushed into her one last time, before pulling out and spilling into his hand. They were already cutting it close with time and location. The last thing they needed was a mess. She pushed off of him and buttoned her blouse again, fixing her skirt so that no one would be any the wiser, while he cleaned himself up with a tissue. “Now I’m gonna go to the bathroom to clean myself up, but maybe later…”
“Yes,” he said, giving her a kiss and stuffing the tissue into his pocket. “First things first, your lips around me.”
Yusaku Fujiki He Duels against various Duelists using his cool-headed logic as his weapon. His skills as a Duelist are top notch.
The ultimate Dueling stage composed of VR: LINK VRAINS (Link Virtual Reality Artificial Intelligence Network System)
By using “LINK VRAINS” which was built inside the Network System, Duels unfold where Duelists change their appearance separate from their real life identities!
The Charisma Duelists that Yusaku Duels on LINK VRAINS.
Go Onizuka A Charisma Duelist who looks like a Professional Wrestler. The monsters he uses share an equally powerful appearance!
Blue Angel An Idol-style Charisma Duelist who charms the audience with her lovely figure. Is the way she Duels as adorable as her appearance!?
Den City: A city in the near future which serves as this show’s setting, nearly everything in it is connected to the megacorp SOL Technology Inc. Its unique gimmick is the VR Duels which the inhabitants enjoy.
People Who Live In Den City
Shouichi Kusanagi: The Mysterious Hot Dog Vendor While he looks like an ordinary mid-city hot dog vendor, his real identity is that of a top-notch hacker who supports Playmaker’s Duels.
Akira Zaizen: SOL Technology Inc.’s Security Chief An elite member of the the Security team for the city and its Virtual Reality infrastructure. He spends every day protecting the city against hackers.
A New Story That Ties Together 2 Worlds
Playmaker Yusaku’s appearance in “LINK VRAINS”. Behold a never-before-seen Duel as he rides his D-Board!
The Mysterious Life Form A life form surronded in mystery that appears before Yusaku. Due to certain circumstances, it appears to be on the run from SOL Technology Inc.
I SAW YOUR "#cyberpunk baze x chirrut?" TAG AND NOW I'M THINKING -- chirrut as the badass techno-monk still loyal to his destroyed order, baze as a Bodyguard For Hire With A Big Gun, ughhhhh i can see it so clearly in my head and i love it
Star Wars is basically one step away from cyberpunk anyway, just add more neon and stick everyone on one planet instead of a billion, et voilà.
Chirrut works as a technomancer, able to communicate with and manipulate computers directly without needing code or terminals or cybernetic implants. He came by his abilities not through the self-taught survival-of-the-fittest lessons of the street, nor through sinister experimentation by one of the Megacorps, but through good old-fashioned techno-religion. His bond with the very web of cyberspace becomes the stuff of legends on both the mainstream and shadow ‘nets. This flickering presence known as The Monk, who slips through firewalls and cyber sentries like so much tissue paper, who runs his digital fingers through classified archives and top-security files pretty much whenever and however he pleases, whose reported exploits far exceed the number of places he’s actually been in.
Even glimpsing his avatar requires feats of hacking accessible only to the top tiers of hackers, the legends say, and a confirmed Monk sighting goes onto a person’s net profile like an elite badge of honor, good for both reputations and credit accounts. The legends have also embroidered the description of Chirrut’s avatar way beyond the actual mask of bits and bytes that he assumes when he goes into cyberspace - he particularly enjoys the fanfics that feature flames, or improbably giant swords, or improbably glowing armor, or all three at once - but most of them eventually boil down to a few common threads: a beautiful man with Chinese features, wearing traditional robes, disarming your defenses in a single glance of his eerie, blank white eyes.
But as invincible as The Monk may be in cyberspace, commanding the very hardware of its machinery to bend to his will, he has a weakness. Which is simply the weakness of any hacker, down to the most ordinary - when he’s plugged in, he can’t defend his own body.
Company enforcers know that. Rival hackers know that. Anyone Chirrut has ever crossed, from the Megacorp that bought out and razed his religious order, to the most recent two-bit mob boss he humiliated and laid bare to the sharks of the underworld, and continuing on down the list, knows that.
So that’s where Baze comes in.
Baze - to put it in the simplest terms - has a really big gun.
He started life as a fully organic, ordinary genetic human. That’s all ancient history by now, seriously - the reason why his Wuxing IST-Tech 45 plasma-cell cannon has so much concentrated firepower, and why it’s so deadly accurate in his hands, is because strictly speaking, there’s no boundary between the cannon and his hands. Cybernetic implants in his limbs, his body, his eyes - even his brain - turn him into a living weapon, one that maintains the firepower and accuracy even if by some miracle he’s separated from his primary weapon.
His reputation takes longer to grow and spread than Chirrut’s, in part because it’s a fair few years before anyone realizes the quiet-but-menacing mercenary with minor-but-solid street cred operating in a single medium-size city within the Sino-Pacific Trade Group is connected to the much-rumored but somehow even more elusive bodyguard of the internationally-famous Monk. Is, in fact, the same person. (Chirrut still likes to gleefully send him text strings from shadow ‘net forums regarding wild conspiracy theories pulling together highly improbable shreds of evidence to pinpoint the entirely wrong person as the identity of The Monk’s Protector.)
As Chirrut’s daring deeds spread across cyberspace, undermining corporate structures, propping up rebellions, sabotaging exploitative operations, declawing predators and giving teeth to prey, so too does the manhunt for The Monk. Over the years, Baze stops taking as many merc jobs that require him to leave Chirrut’s side, because he simply cannot trust that his partner won’t hook into the ‘net while he’s gone, dancing with wild abandon across the strands of the matrix that runs their world. And, incidentally, leaving himself a completely empty physical shell lying comatose amongst cushions on the floor of their shared apartment. A heavily fortified apartment, but still.
After one particularly long week, which features three highway chases, four days of hopping from safehouse to safehouse, thirty hired hitmen (spaced out over the week), too much expended ammunition to bear thinking about, and a fuckload of cleanup - flesh-eating nanobots do not come cheap, let me tell you, and neither do plasma cartridges - Baze decides to say something.
“You could at least take a few paying jobs, since I can’t anymore,” he grumbles while he takes one of his guns apart for maintenance. “Thanks to you,” he adds, because sometimes it takes many repetitions of an idea for Chirrut to come to grips with it.
“Yes, we will eventually starve. Soon I will be nothing but an insubstantial ghost, just a spirit swaying in the digital breeze, blown wherever the matrix wills it. I think I’d make quite an attractive ghost, don’t you think?” Chirrut says, leaning back from his meditation pose and stretching, tilting his chin up and exposing a delicious stretch of throat that has Baze clamping down on a highly annoyed spark of lust. “You, on the other hand, would make for quite a large lump of a corpse, come to think of it. Hmm.”
Baze snorts. “You didn’t act like you were kissing a corpse last night,” he says, and Chirrut waves a hand.
“No, no, you’re right. I prefer you in non-corpse-form. Very well then,” and he unfolds with the startling grace that he has - the same physical capability that’s stymied more than one assassin expecting an infirm, out-of-shape hacker - and bounds over to fold into Baze’s lap, who hastily retracts the gun into his arm compartment. Chirrut cups his cheek, running light fingers over exposed metal ridges and surgery scarring. “For you, my beloved, I will take a paying contract. How much should the Monk charge for his services, I wonder?”
Baze raises an eyebrow under Chirrut’s hand, not bothering to conceal his surprise at his partner’s easy capitulation. “For you? You could probably ask for anything you want. Couple million creds, to start with, and going up from there.”
Chirrut’s pupils contract in the way that indicates he’s pulling something up on his internal HUD. “I have here a humble request,” he says, stretching out the word ‘humble.’ “From someone designating herself Mon Mothma. Came in just a few hours ago.”
Baze raises his other eyebrow. Mon Mothma of Alliance Corp? Everyone in the shadow world knows by now it’s just a front for one of the many proletarian movements seeking to break the grip of the oligarchy. Ironic that she’s funding it with wealth gained through her own corporation. But she can pay handsomely.
Chirrut bends forward to kiss his eyebrows. “I take it you approve.”
“You’ve vetted it already,” Baze says.
Chirrut scoffs. “You could have left that thought unvoiced and saved yourself the energy,” he says, and Baze rolls his eyes.
“When’s the verification meeting?”
“Tomorrow, in the Prosperity District. At a very nice café for the finest tea in the region, the reviews tell me.”
Right in the heart of downtown, in the shadow of every major Megacorp skyscraper in the SPTG. Baze sighs. “I’ll get out your good suit. Try not to get yourself killed.”
“Mon Mothma asked for you, too. By name.” Chirrut smiles radiantly, inordinately pleased for no reason Baze can think of.
He grunts and wraps his hands around Chirrut’s waist. “We’ll have to pull the rich-asshole-and-his-bodyguard act again.” Baze’s visible modifications aren’t unusual in the bowels of the city, down at street level, but would stand out as unspeakably gauche if he tried to pass himself off as a plutocrat on the 200th floor of some shiny fuck-off corporate complex.
“If we must,” Chirrut dismisses. Then he pushes Baze flat on the floor and slides down, grin glittering wickedly, and proceeds to make Baze prove - repeatedly - that he is very much, definitely, decidedly not a corpse.
(Sidenote: Baze does in fact own a super rad cyberpunk motorcycle that leaves neon streaks in the darkness when he and Chirrut ride through the rain-soaked alleys of their city, because the Rule Of Cool turned the knob up to 11 on this pair, and everyone knows it.)
one word prompt thingy: gavin, pain, any au you want :)
He’s the Golden Boy with the Silver Tongue, the negotiator, the sweet talker. Ramsey’s precious boy. He’s known for his pristine dress, his silk designer shirts, the $400 jeans, the golden framed sunglasses and sun bleached hair. He’s spoiled. He’s unrelenting. He’s Gavin Free.
He doesn’t get involved in the action all that much. He’s squeamish. He’s fidgety in a fight. He leaves the blood and guns to the others of the crew. Not even Geoff gets involved in firefights all that much. There are some positions in a crew that don’t require senseless violence, and Gavin would prefer to keep it that way.
When he’s on the field, working a job, collecting a payment, dealing out threats, the crew try to keep him out of danger. He has other uses beyond his tongue. He’s a top notch hacker as well.
So if a heist should all go to shit, Gavin is usually far away by the time that happens, shoved into the front seat of a car as it speeds away. He’s lucky he’s avoided the bloodshed this far into being with the crew.
But luck always runs out.
The crew they’re dealing with is a shifty one. Geoff can’t get a good read on them, so he sends Gavin down with some protection to see what he can learn. Immediately, Gavin can tell it won’t end well. The gang leader he’s dealing with seems like a twitchy man. He’s sweating a bit. Could be from the heat of the day. Could be from something he’s nervous about. But the conversation Gavin has with him goes swimmingly. He’s cooperative. He’s honest–as honest as Gavin can tell. He’s not making things difficult for Gavin. Which also puts Gavin on edge.
“I don’t like this,” he hears Ryan say through the earpiece. “It’s too easy.”
But Gavin keeps up the act, smiles like nothing is wrong. Don’t let them catch onto you. Don’t let them doubt you.
The meeting comes to an end. Nothing bad happens. There’s no shoot out. No quick shots taken. Ryan is tense. Gavin keeps his own posture stress free and unassuming. Maybe they’ll get away. Maybe he read this entire situation the wrong–
He hears beeping, the pitches coming in quicker and quicker succession. He looks for the sound and notices a charge on the crates where they’re walking. Just before it goes off, Ryan shoves into him, a large arm thrown about his waist and carrying him off as far as he could before the blast went off.
The blast that close is deafening and blinding. All Gavin can hear is a ringing in his ears. Pain lances up his back and the back of his head. He groans and rolls onto his side. HIs sunglasses are a few feet away from him, blown off in the blast, cracked beyond repair. The ringing in his ears makes it difficult to pinpoint where the sounds of gunshots are coming from. If he’s in trouble, if he should reach for his gun.
He shakes his head, tries to gain his bearings. And then he sees Ryan sprawled out next to him. His eyes are closed beneath the mask. He’s bleeding sluggishly from a wound on his shoulder. Gavin moves his aching body over to him and leans up on his knees. He presses down on the wound, a poor attempt at staunching until the backup arrives.
When the other members of the crew arrive and clean out the place, Gavin and Ryan are taken directly back to the tower to be seen to. Gavin is given a diagnosis of a mild concussion. Ryan’s arm is patched up and stiffly bound against his chest. They’re both on bedrest until the doctor gives them the all clear.
It takes a while to wash the blood off of his hands that night. Scrubbing, scrubbing, scrubbing until the water is no longer pink. He sits at Ryan’s bedside that night before lying down on the bed covers, careful not to disturb him. And just as he begins to doze off, he feels Ryan slip his unbound hand into his.
Co Author: BUDDY!!! WHO ELSE OTHER THAN MY BEST FRIEND AND AN AMAZING AUTHOR?!?! Buddy you’re amazing and thank you for everything without you this fic would’ve gone nowhere!!!!
Markiplier, Ethan, Tyler
Ethan is a hacker for a strict corporation. If you screw up, you’re sent to the infamous ’T-Room’. Everyone who goes in comes out different. Quiet, obedient. Changed. No one knows what happens in there…and today, Ethan makes a huge mistake.
[WARNING THIS IS A TICKLE FIC]
I love feedback! Critique is greatly appreciated! HOLY SHIT THIS IS LONG! 4825 WORDS!! LOOOOOONG FIC! Also Buddy is amazing and made this 1000% better.
Spot sighed as he sat down. For a second, he closed his eyes and simply breathed. Today was a mess and all he wanted was to go to the secluded rocks by the shore and take a nap while listening to the waves. Instead, he was sitting in a rest area of a stuffy mall that was too loud and too bright.
So, Yusaku’s pretty cool so far, but you know what I really want to see from him, above all else?
Weakness. His memories are gone, his best and only friend has a gaping hole in his heart where his brother used to be, he’s routinely combating a cutthroat group of cyber terrorists and now also has the ire of his world’s largest corporation. He nearly died twice in his first onscreen duel. And all this while still having to attend school and act like everything is normal. Can you imagine…can you even BEGIN to comprehend the strain that must put on a person?
This constant fear that he’s not good enough, that any second could be his last, be it because the Knights of Hanoi or SOL get the better of him in a duel, or because he doesn’t cover his tracks well enough and they track him down in reality (a very prevalent fear. He’s a teenager, up against a bunch of top-class hackers and the best operatives a megacorp can buy). The constant grief, the sorrow that permeates his very being at all times, that he never allows himself to release. The constant hatred, what seems like his primary motivator, it empowers him, but undoubtedly eats away at him all the same. The constant lethargy, his detachment from the world, as if the only thing that matters is his conflict with the Knights. There is SO much drama to milk in this setup, and frankly the last thing I want is for the writers to go for a for a main character that can take all this strain without it getting to him. Because it SHOULD get to him. It’s what makes him human, what makes him relatable, what makes him interesting. What we’ve gotten of Yusaku so far is good, but we need to see another side to him.
Sombra, concerned about Hana’s hesitation towards intimacy, goes to see her coworker, and (sort of) friend Amélie for help. While Amélie isn’t really the best at giving advice, she still shows some support, even if it’s only in small, subtle ways.
this is half a joke and half a serious red army sona kjfdhlkj
anyways he’s one of the top hackers used to gather intel on any of the army’s enemies and he gets shit done, good with electronics and will sometimes hard wire someone’s shit to explode if he hates them enough
also if u ask him about the power glove he’ll leak all your info online
“Oh hi, I didn’t see you there. I’m just chilling in in this plastic-wrapped green room wearing a deconstructed sheer singlet, black bandeau top, and boot-cut PVC trousers. If anyone needs me I’ll be right here, waiting to go on set as the alternate for Angelina Jolie’s character from Hackers.”
Thank you for asking all my basic rules and type or writing asks. I just wanted to be sure not to tromple any boundries. May I request some headcanons for Diavolo, Risotto, and Abbachio with a small sweet s/o who is a top grade hacker that could leave nations on their knees? Smol sweet but scary powerful with a computer.
I’m going to do these separate for this ask, if you meant that you wanted it poly just shoot me a note and ill re do it!
- He hired his s/o to manage highly secure Passione data files, assuming that he would have to either have them killed eventually or have another person help them out with the files. He was very surprised when s/o wrote him a detailed report of bugs in his cybersecurity, along with the proper procedures for fixing them. He’ll admit that he didn't understand half the words in the report.
- Their sweet appearance is highly deceptive, it’s clear to Diavolo that they could bring down Passione with a few keystrokes if they felt like it. Curiously, rather than killing them in a bout of paranoia, he is in awe of them. Something about their mannerisms put him at ease, he knows that they wouldn’t betray him.
- He trusts them with all of his personal data, and his s/o knows how much that means, coming from Diavolo. In return, they give him a box with all of their precious irreplaceable childhood mementos, Diavolo now has some leverage over them. He would never dream of using it, but it warms his heart to know that his s/o understands how afraid of them he can be
- Risotto met his s/o when they held his credit card information for ransom. He barged into their tiny apartment in the middle of the night demanding that they let his information go. He was baffled by the extensive setup that they had in their small space.
- His s/o sometimes plays pranks on him by remotely changing his laptop background to memes or other nonsensical pictures sure to embarrass him during his next powerpoint.
- He constantly asks them why they don’t use their skills to do something large, like steal money from the government, but they just laugh it off, saying that messing around with him is all the entertainment they need.
- Abbaccio is not very good with computers, so he doesn'tA quite realize what his s/o is capable of until they bankrupt several other gangs with cyber ransom for a mission. He still doesn't quite get how it works, all he knows is that his s/o’s laptop is so powerful in their hands that it might as well be a stand.
- S/o tries not to rattle on about technology too much around Abbacchio, mostly out of consideration and not making him feel like an idiot. The only exception is when he can’t sleep, in which case, they will quietly talk about code until the white noise puts him back to sleep.
- Abbacchio loves how cute and small his s/o is, especially when they wear a pleasant little smile while making serious threats against rival gangs, he loves the dichotomy between their innocent exterior and highly skilled interior. He loves watching their opponents face turn terrified as they realize that their name and information could be on every screen in the country in 5 minutes if s/o wills it.
I hope you liked these! Id love to get more asks like this!
MC is a girl but manages to trick the RFA members (this doesn’t include Luciel because HE SEES ALL) into thinking that she’s a guy. All the members are now very confused and are questioning themselves. Chaos ensues the day of the party. Bonus points if MC and Luciel decide to team up and troll the rest of the RFA members together.
MC tells Unknown they’re at Rika’s Apartment as they walk into the police station.
MC is fluently bilingual (or multilingual) and converses with the RFA members in a language other than Korean (English maybe?). Watch as the RFA members desperately try to communicate with their newest member because wow! A foreigner!. Yoosung is trying his best to pick up on his English but realizes that he has to rely on Noogle Translate and you know how those are. I feel like the only exception could possibly be Luciel and Jumin for this.
MC teasing them RFA bois with occasional *RARE* photos of themselves. Like, the pictures uploaded are blurry or out of focus. Maybe they’re just very random glimpses of something miniscule, like the pen MC likes using or even a cropped picture of their socks or even eraser shavings on a desk or a strand of hair and… THE BOIS GO SO CRAZY LIKE OMG STOP YOUR RAISING TESTOSTERONE.
MC is also a top hacker and when Luciel finds out why he’s been seeing cats dance all over the RFA chatrooms (much to Zen’s dismay and Jumin’s surprise), the two start a hacking war (also they secretly team up to find Unknown and go undercover missions while pretending that MC is a damsel in distress but in reality SHE HELPED REWIRE LUCIEL’S ALGORITHM WHEN THE HACKER TRIGGERED THE BOMB IN RIKA’S APARTMENT BAM ULTIMATE HACKING COUPLE).
It had been a long day at S.H.I.E.L.D. You were one of their top hackers and you were the person who was in charge of mission assignment,so no matter what it was that they needed doing you were the person to do so. Today it was attempting to decode some Hydra system they had found, which was not as easy as you thought it might be.So,after an extremely long day you headed to the grocery store before heading home. Once again you were needing to fill your kitchen with more food, since a certain mercenary insisted on eating the entirety of your kitchen.
So when you walked into your apartment after a long day you wanted to do nothing more than get the groceries put away and take a nice long soak in the bath. You noticed that your apartment was pitch black. You presumed that Wade was off on a mission so you flicked on the lights and began to unpack the groceries, before slipping off your shoes and walking to your bedroom so that you could finally get out of the catsuit that S.H.I.E.L.D made you wear.
When you flicked on the lights, you let out a yelp. Nothing could have prepared you for what you saw. Wade Wilson, your boyfriend of nearly six months was sprawled across your bed naked.A sight that you had seen before now. It puzzled you though as to why he was laying there completely in the dark.
“Wade, is there a reason why you’re naked in my bed?” You asked as you removed the gun that was resting on your hip. He’s lucky you didn’t shoot him again. That was the first time he decided to sneak up on you.
“Why not? This is not going to be the last time your going to see me in all my glory. The darkness added to the shock factor, don’t you think?” You rolled your eyes, unable to come up with your normal witty response. Wade sensed your mood and scooted to the end of your bed in all his naked glory before wrapping his arms around your waist.
“Is the cosplay pirate working you too hard again? I’ll steal his eye patch again if you want?” This managed to make you laugh, you remembered the first time he stole Fury’s eye patch. Fury had never been so visibly angry, he refused to leave his office that.
“As tempting as that sounds, I do most of the time like my job. Today is just one of those days” You replied, as Wade stood up, you honestly didn’t know where to place your eyes, occasionally they would drift to bellow his waist.
“I know I’m the best looking man in existence.” Wade boasted, cupping your soft delicate cheeks with his rough calloused hands planting a soft sweet kiss on your lips. Moments like this you often forgot he was Deadpool, the Merc with the mouth. Right now he was just Wade Wilson, your boyfriend.
“As much as I truly enjoy you staring at my Adonis looking body, I do have a reason to why I was laying in your bed naked. Come on” Wade dragged you along to your bathroom, but you just couldn’t help but admire his body as he walked in-front of you. He was truly mesmerizing. As Wade opens the bathroom door your truly taken back. He had gone out of his way to decorate the bathroom with Rose petals scattered around the room and candles placed around the bathtub, and on the sink. It was breathtakingly beautiful and you couldn’t believe that Wade had gone to so much trouble. It was too perfect
“Wade, what have you done?” You asked and Wade looks genuinely shocked but you knew that he had done something.
“Someone may or may have not stolen America’s shield and hidden it in Stark towers” Was Wade not aware of how tense things were between Steve and Tony. Unless he is already knew that.
“You know how tense it is right now between those two. You might just tip things over the edge” You replied but Wade’s lips were planting small soft kisses on the back of your neck.
“Anyway enough talking about the alcoholic and the ice cube. Last time I checked you can’t take a bath with clothes on even if it does look like a wetsuit”
“There’s me thinking that you liked my catsuit” You mocked before turning around in his arms. There is no place you would rather be, they were so warm and welcoming.
“I do just not when I’m trying to get you out of it” You let Wade unzip your suit and slipping out of it. Before turning so you could let Wade unclasp your bra strap there was a knock on the door.
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me” You grab the bathrobe from behind the door, as you head towards the door Wade stops you.
“Oh no! You stay here, right here” Wade leaves you standing in the doorway of the bathroom, while Wade heads towards the door and looks through the peep whole. Suddenly Wade bursts into hysterics.
“Oh boy! Stars and stripes is at the door without his mighty shield, Wait (Y/N) are you seeing the statue of Liberty behind my back” Now it was your time to laugh. You and Steve. No way.
“No you ass hat. Now hide so I can find out what Steve wants”
“Oh so it’s Steve. Your on first name basis with that motherfucker. I’m going to turn that asshole into sushi” A jealous Wade was nothing new to you. You were his and he knew this but you needed to give him some reassurance so you grabbed his face and planted a firm passionate kiss on his lips.
“Wade I only have eyes for you. Anyway the whole honour and liberty. thing doesn’t do it for me. I much prefer a mercenary walking around in a red a black suit” Wade visibly relaxed a little before heading to the bedroom as you headed to open the door.
“If he touches you, he is going to pay for it” Rolling your eyes you bolted the door, opening it to reveal Steve.
“Hey Capt, what brings you to this neck of the woods” You greeted cheerfully before moving out of the way and letting Steve in to your apartment.
“Are you hear alone? I heard voices” Dammit! You needed a sound proof door.
“Yes sorry about that sometimes I talk to myself after a long and stressful day. I find it very therapeutic” You spoke running a hand through your hair.
“I actually came here to ask you something. Well Stark is having a gala this Saturday and I was wondering if you wanted to go with me as my date”
“Oh hell no motherfucker” Wade yelled causing your eyes to widen. You needed to come up with an explanation and quickly.
“Sorry about that Capt, the walls to this apartment are so thin. That’s Mr Jenkins next door. He gets angry at the smallest of things. Could be a spider or could be a football game, who knows” You replied casually trying to make out that this was an every day thing for you. Trying to desperately trying to move away from the Captain’s question.
“Well anyway, what do you say (Y/N) Would you be my date to Stark’s Gala? Steve asked a lump appeared in your throat. There was no way you were going to betray Wade. But if you turned up without a date it was going to look extremely weird and Steve would feel bad.
“Steve, do you mind if I thought about it? I’m just a little shocked that’s all” Steve being the gentleman that he is nodded.
“Of course, I’ll see you tomorrow” Steve headed towards the door but he stopped halfway.
“Hey did I leave my shield in your office. I can’t seem to find it” You tried not to burst out in a fit of giggles.
“No I don’t think so. I’ll have a look in the morning. Goodnight Steve” You replied as you held onto the door.
“Goodnight Miss Have a good night” You closed the door on and bolted it before tuning to see Wade, now wearing a pair of sweat pants. You knew you had to come up with a plan and quickly otherwise Steve was going to end up seriously hurt…..
Law drummed his fingers impatiently on the table. His eyes flickered to his watch and then to the clock on the opposite end of the diner. Fifteen more minutes till the prearranged meeting time. With a sigh, his lips pulled downwards in a sulk. It was fifteen minutes too many. He took a sip from a mug of room temperature coffee, casually ignoring the amiable smiles the petite cashier was flashing him from behind the counter. She was observing him in a rather peculiar manner. Was she… Spectre?
Was Spectre already there, hidden in plain sight, watching him? Law had no idea what Spectre looked like. He hadn’t given Spectre any physical traits to identify him by either. However, being a top-notch hacker, it should’ve been effortless for Spectre to obtain a picture of Law somehow.
Law glanced around the small, homely establishment and scrutinized the crowd. The place wasn’t as populated as the bigger chain diners, which made it ideal for conversation. Aside from him, only a few others were seated around, all individual lone patrons engrossed in books, mobile devices, laptops, daydreams and the like. It was quiet, with a soft, soothing violin melody playing in the background; a haven for those who sought time out away from the hustle and bustle of life teeming on the streets, yet required wifi and air-conditioning, sweet desserts and coffee.
Still, while the atmosphere was pleasant, Law hated waiting for others. The only exception would be when murder was on his agenda. He could be calm as death then, patient as a saint. He tugged the brim of his hat and glanced at the clock again. Thirteen more minutes, he noted. Pressing his lips together, he leafed through his notes, confirming exactly how much he would share with Spectre.
Finally, a moment later, Law detected someone approaching him in his peripheral vision. A slim, bespectacled guy with long, lavender hair joined him at the table.