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FAQ
Does it matter if we have spoken or interacted before? Not at all. Please tag me if an oscar isaac character is involved.
Does it matter what the genre is? Nope. (If, on the off chance, there's something that I am not comfortable reading, I will not read/stop reading and not bother you.)
Does it matter if it's x reader/ocs? Not at all, give me x reader, ocs, character study, only characters from the media, etc. it's all good to me.
It's in 1st/2nd/3rd person, is that okay? I'm super happy with all tenses.
Does it have to be romantic/platonic? No, I am happy with fanfic in all forms <3
The fic is old, is it okay to tag/recommend? YES PLEASE. Time means nothing to me.
I would like to recommend someone else's fic; is that okay? That is more than okay! <3
Tags & warnings. Breeding + degrading + age gap. (Early 20's + late 30's) (+18)
Important writers note. Since Suburbicon is set in 1959 you can guess it right, this is kinda misogynistic lol, there's a bit of dub-con with the breeding part.
Word count. 2k.
Summary. Bud is dying to make you a mommy.
Kinktober masterlist.
Bud was sweet, well, most of the time. You just weren't used to accepting the idea that sometimes he seemed to be obsessed with you.
Flowers, cards, expensive gifts. Having a boyfriend with a job was more fun than you thought, but at the same time, you had to deal with the burden of an older man with completely different aspirations from yours.
You loved him, and he undoubtedly loved you, but did you love him enough to set aside your life plans?
Attending college was a huge privilege, the idea of getting a job, your own apartment. You never saw yourself as a housewife, although you didn't judge those who made that choice; many of your girl friends were living a dream life that way.
And you weren't a fan of kids.
Oh, and weddings were too expensive to even consider.
Needless to say, it was the opposite of what Bud wanted for you. Well, for him. Or should you say, for the both of you, maybe?
"How was work?" Your arms wrapped around his neck as you kissed his lips. As usual, the only thing between you two was a bouquet of flowers. Beautiful sunflowers that matched the aesthetics of your room perfectly.
"They're considering me for a promotion." The tip of his nose rubbed against yours, making you laugh. "You should think about... you know, what we've talked about."
You pursed your lips, shaking your head afterward.
"No." You had lost count of how many times you had to repeat this. "I've already told you, love. No marriage, no engagement, no living together, and no kids until I finish college." You knew the dialogue by heart, and he probably did too.
He groaned, a little pout appearing on his lips.
"People talk," he whispered before kissing your lips again. Ah, you knew that by heart as well; it wasn't very difficult for him to distract you from the main topic.
Ever heard the popular saying "Small town, big hell"? Turns out, for the whole neighborhood, your relationship was more than scandalous. Bud already had a reputation due to his recent divorce, and you had managed to make it even worse with what everyone considered "progressive" ideas for the 50s.
You weren't married, everyone knew that, and you weren't in the process of getting married because every time you attended a boring neighborhood party, they always checked your hands and your partner's hands as a way to confirm that there was no ring yet. But still, you never hid the liberties of your relationship.
You spent whole nights at his apartment, the old lady from the house around the corner always spied on you when you left in the early hours or even in the mornings, with disheveled clothes, messy hair, and smeared lipstick all over your mouth.
The public displays of affection were on your part, although it was difficult for him to give in a little, he later understood that you did not have to be a prude in front of people, in fact, he started to enjoy the way in which people stopped to look. how you devoured his mouth against his car and how it brought moans from your throat because of the way his big hands squeezed your waist as if you were going to get away from him.
He loved your cherry flavored lip gloss and letting everyone know you were his.
"They've always talked." You lowered the bouquet of flowers, placing them on the dining table as his hands traveled the same path over and over, from your hips to your waist. "You know it's not what I want."
He sighed but gave you the same defeated smile as always.
"I know." He took just two steps closer until your body was against the table. "I've got the migraine of the century."
You chuckled. You already knew what that meant.
"And how could I solve that?"
With little effort, he sat you on the edge of the table, and your hands traveled down his chest, brushing his abdomen until they reached the edge of his pants. You tugged at the fabric until his hips were comfortably positioned between your legs.
“You know well what I want.” It was the last thing he whispered before his mouth was on yours, kissing you wetly and desperately.
It was no different than other times, you would never have guessed that Bud had a mission for that night.
While he was nibbling on your lower lip your hands quickly unbuttoned his shirt, you were never going to get tired of admiring his body, muscles and tanned skin were the perfect combination, although this time he was so focused on your mouth that you couldn't move away to do it this time.
His fingers slowly lifted the hem of your mini skirt, the one that made older women look at you with disdain in the streets, the one that he loved so much. Bud only pulled away from your lips when he wanted to, looking down as his thumb brushed the center of your panties.
"Look at that." He whispered, applying more pressure with his thumb. “You're wet from just a couple of kisses."
You nibbled on your already swollen and red bottom lip, your eyes not leaving him for a single second.
“You are such a whore, you know that, sweetheart?” You whimpered as his thumb began to trace small circles over your still covered clit.
You felt how your little pussy throbbed around nothing. 'Whore' was a word that you knew was constantly floating around town to refer to you, it was fucking hot when your boyfriend used it before fucking your brains out.
You nodded slowly and bit back the urge to smile.
“So desperate.” You felt him teasing your hole with his middle finger, wetting your underwear even more as he pressed the fabric against the exact spot your slick ran from.
You sighed and your hands rested on the table for some support while you held your legs open for him. His gaze was still fixed on his hands against your puffy little pussy lips, marking the line between them with his fingers.
“People talk.” He repeated what he had said minutes before. “They talk about what a whore you are for letting yourself be fucked without being married to me.” You thrust your hips forward in desperation when his hand finally slipped under your underwear. You needed him.
“I know y-you love it.” You whispered with a breathy voice. “Letting everyone know I'm nothing but your slut.”
That was enough for him, you knew how to drive him crazy with a flutter of your eyelashes, even more so with a couple of words. He stopped touching you, and you were about to complain until you saw him unbuttoning his pants to give you what you really wanted.
It was your hand that delicately helped him position his cock between your legs. The head pressing against your hole after only pushing your underwear aside.
"This is what you want?" No matter how much he pressed he just didn't thrust into you, a few nights ago you had realized how much he liked to push you to your limit.
“Bud, p-please.”
"Sorry?" You saw the corner of his mouth twitch with the threat of a smile.
"Please please." You whispered, your pleading eyes boring into him.
"Please what?"
“Please fuck me, please, please.” You pushed your hip further to the edge of the table, not even with the pressure of your body you could make him continue. "I need it."
“Yeah? You do?” He cooed, a mocking pout on his face.
“I beg you.” You whimpered, your high pitched voice getting more demanding.
He clicked his tongue and in one thrust he buried himself in you, fulfilling your pleas in one expert movement.
“It doesn't matter h-how many…” He stammered as his fingers dug into your thighs. “How many damn times do I try to stretch you out.” He started with a slow rhythm, strong and deep, enough to use his own hands as a method to keep your body from sliding back on the table. “You are still so fucking thight, baby.”
Your hands traveled to your breasts, squeezing them over the fabric of your sweater, giving him a bit of a show before taking it off.
Ah yes, the fact that you didn't wear a bra was also something that attracted glances on the streets.
“Look at you, pretty girl.” He leaned enough so that he could bury his face between your breasts, licking his lips before beginning to place wet kisses on your soft skin. “Fuck, I want to marry you.”
His voice almost sounded pleading as your fingers ruffled his hair and pushed him even closer to you. He took one of your nipples in his mouth, sucking on it as his hips slammed into you again and again in a desperate rhythm.
“Please, please.” He whispered against your skin. “Please, marry me.” You were too cock drunk to think or speak clearly, you just nodded even though he couldn't see you.
It didn't take long for Bud to find that spot inside you, you moaned as loudly as you wanted, your back arching as if your body was begging to be as attached as it could be to his.
“Be my wife, baby.” You recognized well the way his voice broke, he was close.
He rested his chin on your chest and looked up. His eyes looked bigger from that position, it was stupidly adorable.
“P-Pull out.” You whispered between whimpers, your forehead resting against his.
Who were you trying to fool? You both loved each other so much it hurt.
He didn't obey you, his movements became more abrupt and you heard the table creak under your body along with the slap of your skin against his.
He was fucking you merciless.
“B-Bud.” You patted his cheek, trying to get his attention. “A-Ah, shit. P-Pull out.”
He dragged his hand up your thigh slowly until he reached between your legs, he pressed his thumb against your swollen clit making you see stars.
“Bud!” You exclaimed loudly, your entire body trembling with pleasure. “Yes, y-yes, God, yes.”
“You are going to be such a pretty mommy.” His nose brushed against yours as he straightened his back, seeking to be at your height.
You wanted to refuse, you really wanted to tell him to stop but your body was at his mercy, begging for more.
Praying he wouldn't get out of you.
“You want me to pull out, sweetheart?” He took your bottom lip between his teeth, nibbling on it and giving it a little tug before releasing it. “Tell me, do you want me to?”
Only moans came out of your mouth, shouting Bud's name and the word 'more' over and over again.
"I thought so." A delicate kiss on your lips. And another, and another, and another, and another. “You want my baby, don't you?”
You weren't thinking, you really weren't when you nodded.
A smile appeared on his face, accompanying his flushed cheeks and bright eyes.
It only took two more thrusts for you both to reach the limit, for the first time you felt the pleasure of being filled to the brim by him as your walls squeezed every last drop out of him. The warm liquid running down your thighs as your insides couldn't take any more.
“You are such an…” One more thrust silenced you, the way he pushed his spend deeper inside you. “Idiot.” You whispered, closing your eyes at the sensitivity of your body.
“You should start thinking about names.” His teasing smile made you want to punch him, but the soft, slow movement of his hips made you want to ask for more. “What do you say, love?” He pretended to pay attention to your babbling. “Yes, I think so too.”
Warnings: dub/noncon because of blackmail, smut, hand/blowjob, overstimulation, implied (partial?) virginity loss, big twist
Words: okay so this got way out of hand I genuinely just had to stop before it became any longer it was originally just a bj blurb but then my hand slipped I guess? and kept slipping? up and down (2k)
Rating: E
Summary: coming soon
I’ve had this scenario in my head since I first watched the movie and it just sort of… expanded
This is how damn long it’s taken me
AO3 Link
You shut the door with a sharp click, striding right up beside your coworker, Bud clientfucking Cooper.
He glanced sideways at you through his glasses’ lens, lips pursed slightly before he folded close the file in his hands.
“I’m sorry, could I help you with something?”
“Yes, actually.”
He blinked expectantly.
You made as if you needed something off the shelf in front of him and when he took a step back you gripped him by the lapel and shoved his back into the metal, forearm across his chest. He didn’t flinch.
“Bud you’re about five too many little slip ups past what would have kept you out of trouble. And don’t pretend you don’t know what I’m talking about.”
He shrugged.
“I’m sure I don’t.” He deadpanned, that professionally charismatic but soulless smile splitting his face, though you could see a crack in it.
“Bud you try games with me I’ll just walk out of here and inform, oh I dunno, every higher up in the building the fifty-eight thousand dollars you stole from this company’s clients.”
“Shit…” he sighed, sagging, that shitty grin falling. “Okay. How much—”
“I don’t want money.”
“Then what…” he shook his head at a loss.
“I’ll have you know I made copies of the transfers, I’m thinking five years would be conservative for each instance.”
Bud scoffed. “What are you trying to– are you trying to blackmail me?”
“Depends, Buddy. You got something that could make it go away?”
His eyes traveled slowly down and then up your face. He shifted uncomfortably under your unwavering gaze.
His front broke. “No one– don’t call me that.”
“I don’t think you’re in a position to tell me what I get to call you.” He glanced behind you, a little confused, then groaned.
He muttered something and exhaled, mentally walking himself back to the present. “That’s just blackmail. I know what you want.”
“Do you?”
“Yeah.” He swallowed. “God fucking damnnit…”
You grinned.
“Here?” He asked, giving an exasperated glance to the door.
“What do you think?” You said.
“Right.” He loosened his tie and untucked his collared shirt from his slacks.
“Allow me.” You said, tugging him closer before pushing him against the file cabinet, knee between his thighs, you nudged his tie aside and undid his top button, leaning in.
He put his hand between you, finger extended. “One kiss.” He said. “Just the one.”
You nodded.
“Glasses stay on.” You said when he reached to take them off.
He sighed and slowly lowered his hand, then shut his eyes.
You pressed against him open mouthed, parting his lips with your tongue and sucking him between your teeth, making him yip muffledly, caught quiet in his throat.
You sucked and tugged and felt out his mouth from his cheeks to the top of his throat before he lurched, unable to breath, and you pulled away.
Pupils blown, lip swollen from your biting, he inhaled sharply and huffed short breaths. He already looked so fucked out.
You crouched in your just below the knee work skirt and unzipped his pants, tugging his boxers down and raising your brow.
“Well damn, Bud. It really is a shame you don’t have a wife.”
“M-make it quick.” He voiced above you, fingers squeezing your shoulder.
“Not too quick,” you said, taking his soft dick in your hand, feeling a twitch of firmness. “Everybody’s still to lunch. Just relax and enjoy this.”
You stroked down his length curiously, slowly bringing him to hardness, expecting him to have been at least half hard after that kiss, but he seemed out of it.
He looked down at you with wide eyes and something clicked in the back of your head.
“Oh my God, has no one ever done this for you at all?”
He visibly tinged, and you couldn’t deny it felt good to have any sort of genuine reaction out of him.
“Shut your mouth and hurry up.” He murmured all too quickly.
You squeezed his cock in your hand, making him wince and the shaft under your fingers throb.
“This is what you were missing out on, turning me down every. Fucking. Time.” You emphasized each word with a harsh downstroke, punching fast breaths from his throat each time your fist went from his hair dusted balls to his already damp head.
It was hard to string even two thoughts together when he was balls deep in your jaw.
“Timeout!” Bud called, and you groaned, pulling off of him with a pop.
“What is it, Bud?” The director sighed.
“Okay, look, I get the sixties thing, the ‘stache, the outfits, I get the blackmail, the workplace setting, I even get the virginal dork stuff,” he tilted his head to you, and you folded your arms. “What I do not get, is uh… little miss sexless pencil skirt, here, the fuck is up with that?” He felt you get up from in front of him but didn’t bother to look.
“I’m sorry, I don’t think I know what you’re on about.” The director said. “Is there a problem?”
“No, no problem, just… how is it hot if she stays completely clothed, doesn’t touch herself?” He threw his hands up, gesturing. “What, do you find that hot? ‘Cause I’m not turned on.” He shook his head to the cameraperson next to him, and they gave their head a tilt, neither yes nor no. So what if it was a big lie that he wasn’t turned on, he was a liar, it didn’t matter.
“You don’t have to be turned on, you just have to look turned on. Which you’re doing great, by the way.” Bud didn’t know how he managed not to roll his eyes.
“Another thing,” Bud said as he turned back. “Where the hell was my fluffer today? A soft dick is a boring dick and you’re gonna have to cut around all that getting me hard stuff. Which is like dialogue too, so.”
The director sighed. “People like to see the guy get hard these days, makes it look less fake. This is female gaze, you’re not supposed to get it. It’s why she does.”
The director addressed you. “I love your ad libbing, but tone it back, ‘kay?”
You nodded, eying your costar. “I can do that.”
“Perfect. Right, continue blowjob, on script, Bud you bust early you keep going, got it?”
“Yeah, I got it.” Bud cursed under his breath as you got back into position and the cameras pulled back in.
You took him back in your mouth and he felt your eyes were darker, your grip on his thighs a little tighter.
Were you pissed he interrupted or about his comments on the scene? On you? He couldn’t tell, all thoughts left his head completely when you sucked down to the base of his dick, tight and hot and without warning.
He really regretted confiding in you that he had never actually done a blowjob scene before, with how you had and were using it against him. You were just trying to make it look good, right? With the way you were sucking him, like you were trying to get the last bit out of a tube or yogurt, it felt much more personal. Much more like you were tormenting him.
He whined, panting opened mouth as the orgasm he’d just been able to delay overtook him suddenly, warm spurts hitting the back of your tongue.
“You make it hard for me to work and don’t expect trouble?” Your voice came so candid it made Bud double take that this was all being filmed, because for a moment he remembered that though this was your first time in a scene together, you had been coworkers and something of acquaintances for months. Every word out of your mouth was feeling less and less like a campy porn script and more like reality, closely blurring their lines in his mind and making his head spin.
What the hell were you talking about? He hadn’t ever done a thing illegal in his life, not counting what prompted him to turn to porn in the first place. But you surely didn’t know anything about that. Unless you did. Fuck.
He wracked his pleasure soggy brain for what he could’ve done to warrant this. Were his jokes too annoying? Was it ever personal at all?
He just didn't know you well enough to tell.
Your mouth brought his dick back and him to another impending peak, his chin pressed to his chest as his shoulders tightened as he came again and pleasure rushed through him.
“Okay, that’s enough, right?” He panted, only partly to you. “You got what you want.”
“I’m thinking one for every fraud case you took the payout from, yeah? Same number of times you turned me the fuck down.” You pumped some of his spend down his length, grin sharp.
“I don’t, I can’t–”
“I think you can.”
You swirled his head clean before dragging down the underside of his shaft, making the hardness spring back.
His head was too stuffed and blank to refute, to think about anything but how mercilessly you were rawing his cock with your tongue.
He didn’t want to come again, but trying not to was only getting him closer to release again.
“Fuck.” He drew out, screwing his eyes shut tight as his knee buckled, stuttering and shaking through a third orgasm.
He relaxed some when you pulled off, but you continued to work him with your hand, not letting his erection go down, tip angry red and leaking steadily down your knuckles.
He stuttered out your name, no other words coming. He wanted to say it was too much, that he needed to stop, but he couldn’t, too short circuited in discomfort and endorphins, flooded with heat from the floor of his pelvis through his gut to the tips of his ears.
It was completely unlike anything he’d ever experienced before, being overwhelmed so far as to find himself incapable of speech or proper breathing, only barely able to stand there and take it. He felt he might pass out.
But he let you, kept his hand on your head and didn’t push back as you pressed your lips to his balls again, sucking him into the back of your throat, glans kissing your palate with each bob of your head, roughly angling his too hard dick out of shape.
One of the the most common complaints he got was that while he delivered his lines perfectly, he was far to quiet otherwise. That was not a problem this time. Bud whined and grunted with every movement.
He wasn’t even sure anyone else could see, no, he was certain your hand on his thigh having migrated back around to his ass was completely out of view of the camera, your palm kneading the round fat and muscle of his cheek just for you two. It was too much.
Bud crashed over again, vision whitening as he lost all awareness and his teeth clenched till his jaw ached.
You popped off, and finally, finally freed his dick from your grip.
You stood, heels on the tile, and gave him a kiss on the cheek. “That’s a good boy.” You whispered.
You gave his cheek a pat.
“Keep it clean, Buddy.” You said in that sultry, coy tone, the last line of the script.
He straightened his glasses and nodded dumbly, tucking himself back into and zipping up his pants.
“Annnd cut! Great job everyone.”
The director put a firm hand on Bud’s shoulder. “Fantastic work, that was incredibly realistic, Bud. I know you were lookin’ to quit but you think you could come back for a couple more shoots? You come like that I could double your rate.”
“Would she–” Bud huffed, not realizing he was still so short of breath. “She be coming back?”
“Her? Oh yes, definitely. Your chemistry was immaculate.”
Bud let out a heavy breath, nodding. “Yeah, then.” He sighed. “I could… I could come back for one or two more.”
Pairing: Bud Cooper x F!Reader, throughout the series: Marc Spector x F!Reader, Steven Grant x F!Reader
Summary: You and America get stuck portal jumping until you reach your universe again. In the meantime, you meet various versions of your husband.
Warning: a bit of period typical sexism, reader is pregnant
Series Masterlist
When you kick the blankets off you, your eyes widento see your round belly. Oh shit. Oh fuck. You were pregnant.
Not Marc notices you just sitting there and came back to you with concern, "You okay? Is the baby okay?" He kneels down and gently presses a hand to your stomach, "You okay, princess? You giving mommy some trouble this morning?"
"We're having a girl?" you ask in disbelief.
Not Marc's brows furrow, "Yeah. We found out weeks ago, remember?" he reaches up and places the back of his hand to your forehead, "You're not feeling warm. Do you feel dizzy or anything?"
You shake your head, "No. No, it's-I had a weird dream. I suppose I'm just trying to make sure this isn't another one."
Your supposed husband shakes his head, "It's not, honey. I'm here," he cups your face, love in his eyes, "The baby and I are here. We're real."
You nod, "Yeah, yeah, okay."
He wasn't comforted by your answer so he stands with a grunt, "I'm calling out of work today."
"No, no, love, it's okay. I promise."
"I just want to make sure that nothing happens to you two, okay?"
Not Marc walks over to the phone on the nightstand and dials a number. He asks the phone operator to direct his call to his work, "Hey, Mike. It's Bud Cooper." Bud, so that was his name, "Yeah, the wife isn't feeling too well. I'm staying back just in case anything happens to her or the baby. Yeah...sounds like a plan. Alright. Bye."
He hangs the phone up and looks back at you, "Maybe we should get some food in ya and see if that helps?"
Bud helps you out of bed and guides you down the stairs to the kitchen. He has you sit at the table and looks around the kitchen, "Um...where can I find the pan?"
"Cabinet next to the stove," your answer surprises you. How you already have the knowledge and layout of the kitchen is new.
Bud chuckles to himself, "You know how useless I am in the kitchen. This is the women's domain," he opens the cabinet and grabs the pan. He sets it on the shelf and continues to ask you where everything is.
You eventually get up and grab everything for him, but then he has you sit back down, "Okay, I can cook all this myself. See, I'm not completely helpless."
You hum, not loving Bud's current views on women. Sure, this was the norm of this time period, but that didn't mean it didn't leave a bad taste in your mouth.
While Bud cooked, you decided to grab the newspaper out front, but not after promising him that you'd be careful. When you picked up the newspaper, the year stared back up to you 1955.
"Oh wow."
"Good morning, Y/N!" a woman from across the street waves at you as she kisses her husband on the cheek.
You wave back and proceed to walk back inside the home...your home. As you sit back down, Bud places a plate of breakfast and some juice in front of you. Everything is cooked just how you liked it.
He then sits across the table from you and grabs the newspaper you brought in. He places his glasses on and reads while shoveling eggs into his mouth.
Your stomach jolts and you gasp, making Bud immediately rushing to your side, "What is it? What's wrong?"
You smile up at him, "She kicked."
"She's becoming more active, huh?" he kneels down and presses a hand to his belly again, "Looks like you're up and awake, huh, princess?" she kicks again and Bud laughs, "Yeah, honey, this is your daddy."
He continues to talk to your little girl and you can't help but get emotional at the sight. You and Marc are married, yes, but you didn't talk about kids yet. You were content with or without them, but you weren't sure on Marc's views. Considering how he grew up, you're sure he'd be apprehensive.
If, no, when you get back to him, you'll probably have to discuss this with him. Because you can't help but imagining Marc in Bud's position right now. You see the love in his eyes and you just know that Marc, hell even Steven and Jake, would be good fathers.
"You okay care there, lovebug?"
You wipe your eyes, "Yeah, just really happy."
Bud smiles up at you, "I am too."
__________________________
Marc and Steven never thought that hopping through multiple universes was so exhausting. So far they'd been to three different universes. They had to make sure they were in disguise, not wanting to disrupt anything in each universe. But every version they've seen of you, made them miss you even more.
Doctor Strange, seeing the worry and hopelessness in their eyes comforted them, "We'll get her back. It just...takes time."
Steven, currently fronting, shook his head, "I know she'll be okay. She's strong. I just...if someone travels through so many universes, will it effect them in any way?"
"I'm not sure, to be honest."
___________________________
You've been in this universe for less than a day and you already dread leaving. You didn't think yourself of a motherly type, but every time you looked down at your belly or rubbed it, your heart felt so full.
Despite ensuring Bud that you're fine, your "husband" insisted you shouldn't be working on the nursery. So he rolled up his sleeves and worked on painting the room. A baby pink already adorned two walls. How cliche to make your baby girl's nursery fairytale themed. She was your princess after all.
While Bud works on the other two walls, you put up some pictures and artwork. You take a step back and observe your work. You find yourself smiling and rubbing your belly.
"Everything's turning out great, I'd say!" Bud exclaims, coming up next to you and wrapping an arm around your waist.
You nod and he kisses your head, "Why don't you start up lunch while I finish this up, hm?"
"Sounds good!" you peck his lips and waddle your way to the kitchen, when you enter the threshold, you're suddenly somewhere else.
"Fuck!" you whisper to yourself and you're suddenly tackled to the floor as a rain of bullets fire your way.
"I fucking told you to get down!"
"Marc?" you ask to your..husband?
"Pope! Let's go!" another man runs into the room, helping your husband's doppleganger to his feet and then you.
"More hostiles are headed this way. This mission is fucked."
'Pope' nodded and then turned to you, "Rosa, you good?"
You gulp and nodded, "Y-Yeah. I'm good." you looked down noticed the tactical gear you're donning. A knife strapped to your thigh and a gun to your other.
