#continuing the job feels like keeping his captain alive

[mist-the-wannabe-linguist]

Salientes is truly one of a kind in Europe

[yoredoesmore]

Okay I have a request with Hoshina Soshiro. So maybe some angst thing but fluff. Okay so since reader joined hoshina team she flirted with him, give him things , complement him yk? And he would mostly ignore her, give her extra training ANYTHING to make her go away cuz he didn't want to lose her on mission (dangerous job) but she didn't know that. So it lasted for like long time and a new member joined and he started to flirt with reader, give her flowers itp. And she unfortunately thought that making hoshina love her is like against his own will. She doesn't want to be a b so she leaves him alone. And he doesn't like that at all? I love that kind of fanfic. 🎀

Words cannot describe how much i love this request!! thank you so much for this, i hope you enjoy what i came up with!!

Attention | Hoshina Soshiro

pairing: jealous!hoshina soshiro x reader

summary: you stop giving hoshina your attention and he doesn't like that at all.

genre: romance/angst/jealousy/fluff | [wc: 3.3k ]

a/n: my very first request (so exciting!!) i hope i do your wishes justice! hoshina is kinda mean in this one, lol ^^

enjoy!

“Vice Captain Hoshina!” You chimed in an enthusiastic voice, your body moving over to the man's disappearing figure. The vice captain did not even bother to turn around, nor halt in his footsteps as he heard you approach him. Even as you finally catched up, his gaze remained focused on the scene ahead.

“Today's mission went surprisingly well, don't you think!” Excitement hung in your voice, even as Vice Captain Hoshina remained unbothered by your presence. You were all too used to his unbothered demeanor, his avoiding gazes and the lingering silence, therefore you did what you always did in these situations– keep the conversation alive.

“But honestly, with you as our Vice Captain I didn't expect anything else–”

“Your movements towards the end of the battle were sloppy and unprofessional. Talking about a successful mission, tsk, is there nothing else but air in your head? You could have seriously gotten hurt.” His voice was sharp and mocking but the worst part was, it stung.

It has been a little over a year since you joined the Third Division. Despite all your attempts of building a healthy relationship between you and the Vice Captain, nothing much has changed so far. All the compliments, all the gifts and hard work– none of them had been able to bring change to your chemistry. And watching him turn into this jolly ball of joy when talking to the other cadets definitely didn't make you feel better either. It sometimes discouraged you from continuing this sad pursuit of his attention, but only sometimes.

“Seriously, If you wanna stay in this division and continue being part of these missions you gotta be better than that. What even happened back there?!’

A strong force rushed through your lungs, your mind recalling the last minutes of battle. It silenced you immediately.

A Yoju had appeared right behind your exhausted figure, catching you off guard. In any normal situation you would have drawn your weapon at light speed and blast right through the monster but something had stopped you.

The Vice Captain himself.

Nobody else saw it, how could they have– Vice Captain Hoshina did his best to conceal his little mistake. But you took notice of it, of the Vice Captain actually missing his target. It was unexpected to say the least, distracting as well. But the Kaiju blood that ran down his face, temporarily took his vision and that caused his momentum to shift. He lost his balance for a split second and let the Yoju escape from his weapon. He immediately caught up with the monster but the worry that engulfed your stomach was enough to temporarily cause your brain to shut down.

If it hadn't been for Reno calling you back into reality you would have seriously gotten hurt indeed.

“I apologize Cap–”

“Don't bother.” And with that said he left the scene, joining the others in a discussion of how to proceed with the mission.

“Are you alright Y/n..?” Shinomiya approached you, her gentle hand finding its way on your shoulders.

“Yes, I'm alright. Guess he wasn't in the mood to talk, haha..”

This was just one of many failed attempts of you trying to charm Hoshina.

About a week later you were wandering through the hallways of Tachikawa Base. The sun had long kissed the world goodnight, leaving only the dimmed light of the moon to illuminate the building. Sleep was unable to find you, thus you decided to take a short stroll around the building.

It calmed you, watching the stars live in perfect harmony with the moon. They were able to enjoy its presence, even from a distance– just like you were still able to appreciate Hoshina.

He wasn't all that bad honestly. What happened a week ago was a rare occasion, he only got worked up like that when you gave a sloppy performance during a mission.

Perhaps he just wanted you to improve? One could view your way of thinking as delusional, yes, but you preferred to think that you were just optimistic.

On your way back to your dorm you heard subtle sounds in the distance. A few grunts here and some equipment being moved there. Allowing curiosity to take the best of you, you investigated the strange noise. What you found left you shocked and motionless.

The Vice Captain was up and about in the training room, moving in ways you have so rarely seen him in. His body became one with his weapon, it was as if they molded into one to perform something magical. Seeing him in action, in his element, it reminded you why you still chased after Hoshina. He was just perfect in every single aspect, from looks to abilities. You watched him just a little longer, until you decided to step back and return to your dorm to not get into any trouble for being up so late.

“And where do you think you're going?” A single sentence from his lips was enough for your body to become imobile. The Vice Captain was the scariest during battles, when neutralizing Kaiju, everybody knew that. But whatever vibe he was emitting right now, it felt just as dangerous. With each step he took towards your body you could feel your limbs grow weaker and weaker.

“It's quite disrespectful to stare. And on top of that you're walking around past the curfew. Honestly Y/n, it's starting to get annoying.”

“I apologize. I couldn't sleep, that's why I–”

“Give me 50.” Hoshina interrupted you, turning back around to collect his things.

“I..are you serious?” The last thing you wanted was to sound disrespectful, but his cold demeanor was starting to affect you in a way you had hoped it never would.

His body bent forward to grab both his katana and zip jacket. For only a moment his eyes met yours.

“Yes. And while you're already at it, try working on your reflexes and stealth as well, I could hear you from miles away. Your mistakes of last week's battle could have cost you your life. Don't let it happen again."

His gaze fell onto the ground and his grip on the jacket tightened. Like always you were unable to make out what concrete emotions he was hiding behind those eyes but his voice pretty much gave away what state he was currently in.

He was pissed.

As Hoshina walked towards the exit, he made sure to throw one last look at you. You didn't notice it but even if you had, it would have made no sense to you..

The following weeks continued to all look the same. While you were trying your best to uphold a positive attitude towards the Vice Captain, it felt like he was distancing himself further and further away from you. Even the other cadets were starting to wonder when you were finally going to move on and give up.

“Hoshina!” You exclaimed cheerfully, waving at the man. “I hope you had a great weekend. I'm looking forward to today's work!”

Like always he just passed you by, not even bothering to give you anything else than a roll of his eyes or a nod (when he was feeling generous).

Even when you left little notes for him or small treats on his desk, you would always later on find them in the trash.

“Wanna go out and drink something together?”

“No.”

“Excuse me, but could you please help me with–”

“I'm busy.”

“Why wasn't I called in to participate at the weapon testing–”

“Because.”

This went on for a couple more months, until a certain someone brought you back to reality.

“Please welcome Tanaka Yosuke, the newest addition to our team.”.

Tanaka was an interesting guy. He was sweet and nice and always had something positive about you to say. On missions he would have your back and even off the battlefield he would make you feel warm and welcomed. Being with him made you realize just how much attention you actually deserved and maybe even how much you wasted on Hoshina. Tanaka made you appreciate how nice it felt to be sought out for once.

Your words did not pass him by, nor did any of your actions go unnoticed by his attentive eyes. He was someone you were able to feel comfortable around.

“Y/n!” His voice immediately caused a smile to appear on your face. Tanaka stood in front of you, a playful grin shining right back at you as he approached your seated body. You were at the base’s cafeteria, enjoying a simple meal by yourself. After another failed attempt of talking to the Vice Captain you believed that you deserved a little treat.

“I got you something.” He spoke, hands reaching into the small bag he brought with him.

A sharp breath escaped your lips and a feeling so fuzzy engulfed your heart it almost knocked you off the chair.

“Look, aren't these flowers beautiful.” White Lilies swayed in the wind, brought by the Kaiju’s collapse. Only this group of flowers had stayed untouched from the destruction, maintaining their beauty.

You had made one little remark about the flowers but here this man was, surprising you with a whole bouquet of them. As your fingers grazed over the soft petals a thought suddenly occurred in your head.

What if Hoshina genuinely disliked you?

It wasn't a brand new discovery. Vice Captain Hoshina not being a fan of yours was quite obvious, yet you thought that his opinion about you could be swayed if you tried hard enough, like in movies. But seeing him dodge you like a bullet and going out of his way to hurt your feelings..maybe you were a bother after all..

Spending more time with Tanaka and less around the Vice Captain felt strange. You wondered if he noticed or if he even cared about the lack of your presence. The thought occupied your mind even while you were looking at your gift.

But did that mean that you like Tanaka..? Despite being a sweet guy, all you saw in him was a comrade who you could call a good friend. No one could ever compare to the Hoshina that you met years ago, before you joined the decision. The sweet man who saved you that day..the man you fell in love with.

“These flowers are beautiful, Tanaka.” But that didn't change the fact that Tanaka's eyes were different. They looked at you, not past or beyond, they stared right at you and made sure to perceive you.

“Not as beautiful as the one who is holding them..”

For a brief moment you felt your heart skip a beat, Tanaka's words melting on your ears like butter. While you were losing yourself in this warm feeling you didn't notice the person who was lingering behind the wall, watching the scene unfold with sharp eyes.

“Tsk..”

×

“That new guy, what's his name again?” Hoshina rested his body against one of the bookshelves, arms crossed over his chest as he watched the Captain arrange some files.

“You mean Tanaka Yosuke? What's with him?” Mina's gaze remained on the countless sheets of papers in front of her, only moving up once to give the man a questioning look.

“Something about him seems off, I don't like the guy.”

“Oh please.” The woman finally averted her attention to her friend, a smug smile hanging on her lips.

“You're just mad that Y/n is paying him attention, much more than you recently.” The last part of that sentence came out as a mumble yet Hoshina’s sharp ears picked up on Mina's remark.

“As if.” Hoshina scoffed. “It's just, he is always dragging Y/n to the front of every battle and acts as if he has known her for ages.”

“You want him to act like you? Cold and ignorant, even after knowing that she is one of the sweetest people around.” Although Mina tried to add a playful touch to her voice, the backlash of her words stayed strong.

“Everybody knows that Y/n is, or maybe now was, head over heels for you– yes even I picked up on that. Yet for some reason you are a complete asshole to the poor girl. But now that she has decided to stop paying you that special kind of attention you want to complain and talk about some "I miss her” and what not. Give me a break.”

Hearing these words come out of the Captain's mouth felt like a strong jab to the side. Hoshina found himself unable to respond, react in any way, really. Like a block of ice he stood motionless in the room, mouth slightly open.

“Play with a girl's heart for too long and she will leave you in the past. You men have the audacity to treat the woman who cares for you like trash and ignore her but get upset when she starts showing affection to another man who actually treats her right, how childish.”

A paper ball suddenly came flying towards Hoshina’s head. He let the crumbled item hit his skull. His eyes followed it as it bounced off his head and fell to the ground, rolling around for a little longer until it eventually stopped moving. A strange taste now sat in his mouth. It was bitter yet blunt, how irritating..

"Whatever reason you have to act this way, just stop. Tell Y/n face to face how you actually feel and give that poor thing a break for gods sake."

×

The day came to an end rather quickly today. Only hours ago you were out with Tanaka, enjoying some time together and now you were already headed to bed. But before you decided to tell the world goodnight you had to make one quick stop at the base's library.

There was a book about flowers Tanaka gave you that you wanted to lend out, to be able to properly tent your gift. But as you searched through the countless isles, too concentrated on quickly finding the copy, a loud noise suddenly pulled you back to reality.

“Vice Captain..” You stuttered, startled by Hoshinas' sudden appearance. The man stood in front of you, his usual nonchalant expression printed on his face. You were ready to apologize for being out this late once again but before you were even able to open your mouth you were silenced.

“You've been avoiding me..” He spoke in such a low tone you almost didn't hear him.

“I've been…what?”

“You've been avoiding me, Y/n.” Hoshina took a step forward, invading a fraction of your personal space. A gasp slipped from your lips but he continued to stare you down.

“Well..I was under the impression that I was bothering you, Vice Captain, so I backed down a li–”

“Now you can't even say my name anymore?” Another step was taken towards your direction.

Hoshina's playful demeanor had completely disappeared, all that was left was a stoic facade. But something about the way he positioned himself above you, his sharp eyes looking down at your frame as if they were guarding you– it fell off. Despite appearing cold and upset, he somehow seemed..vulnerable?

“I really don't understand what is going on here. I thought you didn't like me?”

It seemed like Hoshina wanted to say something along the lines of “what gave you that idea” but he quickly realized that those words would have not helped him at all. Thus he remained silent for a while, his arms crossing over his chest as his gaze fell onto the wall.

“That Tanaka guy, is he your latest obsession?”

“Excuse me?” You mildly snapped. “Yosuke is a friend of mine, a very nice guy and an amazing fighter.” Hearing you speak his first name so casually caused a nerve to snap in Hoshina’s body.

“He is a completely irresponsible guy if you ask me. Dragging you out to the front of every battle, making you fight all these Yoju– it's like he's setting you up for injuries.” As if the Vicevice Captain's words didn't irritate you enough, he had the audacity to add a scoff, leaving you confused and slightly vexed.

“Orrr maybe he just trusts in my abilities. But with all respect sir, what are you talking about? Are you here to hand out another punishment or is this some type of joke, pretending to suddenly care about me and all..” Silence hushed over the space as your question stayed unanswered. It was beyond obvious that your words triggered something in Hoshina but you didn't know what it was. The lack of a conversation allowed you to reflect on past interactions. Despite hish harsh words, this was the third time that the Vice Captain has mentioned you potentially getting hurt during battle.

Was he maybe..

“I apologize for my tone..” You suddenly sighed.

“But Vice Captain Hoshina, I think I have made it quite clear that I..that I like you yet you don't seem even the tiniest bit interested in me. Which is okay, I get it, but how come that now that i'm finally leaving you alone, you all of a–”

The door to the library suddenly swung open, cutting you off mid sentence.

“Y/n?” Tanaka called out, looking around the empty space.

Hoshina had reacted before you could even realize what was going on. The Vice Captain quickly pulled you into his embrace, so that your back rested against his chest, and placed his hands over your mouth. The mild sensation you felt only moments ago in your stomach now fully exploded, causing a strong heat to rush through your body.

“Weird..the others told me that she would be here..” Tanaka looked around one last time before turning off the lights and closing the door behind him. You thought that Hoshina would let you go but his grip around your waist stayed strong.

“Y/n..” He lowered his face to softly talk into your ear. Something inside the man felt relieved. Now that you were both standing in complete darkness, unable to see each other, he could finally confess what was on his mind.

“As a Vice Captain it is my duty to charge head first into battle, despite knowing that I could die any second. You are persistent by nature, I saw that during our first encounter a couple years ago, so the thought of you being stubborn enough to follow me on the battlefield and potentially getting hurt always haunted me. I..I tried getting rid of you to prevent that from happening and during the process I must have hurt you a lot and I am so sorry. I kept ignoring you because being close to you..it made it so fucking difficult to not–”

Hoshina stopped himself from continuing that sentence and let go of you, his body's heat becoming too overwhelming. With every second your eyes adjusted more and more to the darkness, until you were properly able to see him.

“Don't run after any other man when I'm right here, Y/n..”

“Hoshina..”

You could only see fragments of it but Hoshina was smiling. Hearing you finally drop the formalities made him happier than it should.

All this time, the man you thought hated you for purely existing had a special spot in his heart reserved just for you. It felt weird, being perceived by him, but at the same time there was no sweeter feeling.

“I don't know if I can just forgive you yet..” You joked. “It's gonna take a lot more than just your words to make me forget the months of blatant disrespect.”

“Don't play around too much now.” The man pulled you back into his embrace. One arm tightly held you by the waist while the other pretended to pull on your ear. For a short moment the two of you laughed together, until he suddenly spoke in a more serious tone.

“Please keep your eyes on me, don't look away.” One of his hands wrapped around yours to pull it up to his face. Hoshina's soft lips ran over your fingers, placing a strong kiss on your hand. Then his eyes fell on yours, locking your gazes.

“I'm yours, Y/n. You don't need anyone else as long as I'm here so please continue to give me your attention. It gets me going like nothing else, hearing your adorable voice and seeing how much effort you put into every fight. Fuck” He chuckled, the other hand now cupping your right cheek.

“You don't know how long I had to hold myself back. But now that the truth's out, I can finally show you just how crazy you make me.”

[mind-intheclouds342]

Do it for them - Co-captain reader x Curly

Previous - Part 12 - Next

"So we just have to wait a little longer... Here you go"

You were finishing explaining the situation to Curly while giving him his medicine, Anya was standing behind you grimacing in pain at the sounds the man made while swallowing.

Anya: "How is it that... Can you tolerate that?"

"What thing? The sounds? The burnt meat? The smell? The blood?"

You were mentioning while slowly and carefully removing the bandages from his body, the man trying to be as quiet as possible so as not to further discomfort the other woman present, but the bandages were almost stuck to his skin.

You were applying water little by little to be able to peel them off better, you had managed to get more drinkable water from the station, grateful for it since they had been without bathing or cleaning themselves to avoid wasting it for weeks now.

Anya: "Everything..."

"Well, I've been to many places, doing different jobs... I've gotten used to it."

When you saw the woman's horrified face, you realized how bad that sounded.

"I worked in morgues and crematoriums! Heavens... I didn't kill anyone."

Anya: "Seriously?"

"My dad owned a morgue and a crematorium, when I turned 18, he made me work, you have no idea how many times I had to clean my own vomit off the floor... or the corpses."

Immediately, she covered her mouth, almost vomiting at the thought of it, but you laughed at her reaction.

"That was exactly my reaction! I grew up with a strong stomach."

Anya: "How did you get here?"

You finished removing the bandages from the man, looking at his skin, you sighed knowing full well that you would have to clean it, pus was already forming in certain areas.

Anya, upon seeing that, had to turn around and hold her stomach, trying to think of something else.

"If you want to get into medical school, you have to watch this, no professor will have pity on you for having a sensitive stomach."

Anya: "I've already seen it without the bandages... But... Today they look extremely bad... I'm sorry..."

Upon saying that, she took a deep breath and turned back again, ready to help you clean her wounds.

"...I was in charge of the morgue in just a few years, and one day, while preparing bodies... I saw him, my father on the table in front of me, ready to be open and empty like any other corpse.. Three shots to the chest, some guys had robbed a store while he was in, he tried to be a hero defending the cashier, and they shot him. The thieves fled with nothing in their hands... I got depressed..."

You looked at Curly, who was watching you attentively while you told that story he already knew.

"I ran away from home... I started with drugs... and all kinds of things to get money... I went to my mother's house just to ask her for money or to eat something, I didn't care how much she begged me to stay... I just... I couldn't feel good again, and I was destroying myself to know that I was still alive."

Anya: "...How did you get out of that?"

"Because of this stubborn one"

You smiled at Curly, who soon looked away as if he weren't paying attention to what you were saying.

"He found me shoplifting in a store, and instead of turning me in, he bought the things I was taking and invited me for a coffee" you laughed, recalling that moment.

Anya: "Seriously?"

"Then he was looking for me all over the city."

Anya: "Did he want to see you again?"

"I stole his wallet."

You paused to laugh at the memory as well, before continuing with the story.

"But he insisted on keep meeting with me, on helping me, and I ended up falling for his kindness... I started living in his house, he was never around because of work, I got a job as a dog walker to have my own money while I was recovering, and he was always making sure I was okay... After years... Finally, I had the strength to see my mother again... And she felt relieved to see me well... Ugh, you have no idea the scene she made when she met Curly, so happy that i found a good man, I wanted the ground to swallow me up."

Anya: "That still doesn't tell me how you ended up as co-captain."

"...Five years ago... Curly recommended me, I did the physical and psychological exams, the training, and since I passed everything flawlessly, well... That's how I ended up here!"

You scratched your neck, smiling somewhat embarrassed that it wasn't a great story of how you became captain on your own; that was the plain truth of how you had ended up there.

You finished putting the upper bandage on Curly, ready to continue with the lower part.

Anya: "We're going to have to be careful with the catheter for this part."

Immediately, they heard Curly's complaints when they were about to remove the bandages from that part.

"Don't be like that, Curly! Anya was the one who has been changing your bandages, washing them, and put the catheter in for you; there's nothing wrong with her seeing you again."

Anya: "I think he doesn't want you to see him..."

She said a little embarrassed, you turned to look at Curly, speechless, not knowing what to say to him.

"Okay, no problem, I'm leaving."

You raised your hands to get up from your seat and leave that room. 

Anya: "You shouldn't feel ashamed, she'ss your wife after all, she'll see you again someday."

Curly shook his head slowly, he preferred that you see him again when he was recovered.

[heartpiratedrabbles]

Kids Anger

Prompt: Kid and you have a huge fight, and in anger, Kid tells you to leave

~ Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Kid X Fem Reader X Killer

Killer watched the two of you fight as he often did. He learned early on which fights to step into to become the peacemaker and which ones to stay out of. You were yelling at Kid for going out of his way to fight a Marine ship and while everyone was alive, quite a few people were injured and the boat needed some major repairs. Even you had been shot in the shoulder during the battle amongst other injuries.

        “We won, didn’t we?! Why don’t you shut the fuck up and get off my goddamn back then” Kid was laying it on thick he was towering over you and it had been long since the rest of the crew made themselves scarce from your fight. Killer was in the corner leaning against the wall but you knew better than to try and get him to pick sides.

        “That’s not the point Kid. It was senseless, We got hurt for no reason, Not to mention the damage to Victoria Punk!” You were after all in charge of the crew's finances. A job Kid had given to you when he was too drunk to pay something off and it turned into plundering the entire village. We were never truly low on berries, Kid made sure of that, but you still would like to keep it above a certain threshold. “Nobody died this time but what about next time!?” It was another great concern of yours, Kid had already lost an arm and it took him god knows how long to wake up from that. It’s a sight you’d rather not relive.

        The two of you had been fighting for quite some time on the matter and neither side seemed to be letting up in this argument as both of you shot daggers at each other. “If I decide we attack that’s final. I’m you’re captain it shouldn’t matter what you think.” Kid slammed his fist into the wall right next to you. You tried not to flinch at the sudden and aggressive movement but couldn’t help but let out a little gasp, deciding to stare straight into his chest rather than make eye contact after such a weak display. “You can’t even fight, what do you even do around here to dare think you should even get a say in what I decide?!” Killer perks his head up at the sudden change the argument was taking. “A useless bitch like you should just stay out of the way” Your breath hitches at his word and you hear Killer yell Kid's name.

        You straighten your back, glancing up at your captain, blinking tears to stay away. His glare back at you is menacing and pissed, Your voice turns lower but unwavering, “If that’s how you feel..”

        “Feelings have nothing to do with this, facts are I let an absolute useless person onto this ship” His words dripping with venom that stung more than your shoulder, “If you can’t even listen to your captain's order maybe you should just leave.” It took a second for his words to sink in, waiting for him to retract his statement. But soon enough you whisper a fine under your breath before turning away and leaving the room. You could hear Killer starting his own fight with Kid at this point but it didn’t matter.

        You make your way to the captain's room, it’s where the three of you stayed after all, and start packing anything of yours that could fit into a single bag. You wince a bit as your shoulder starts to bleed from a sudden movement but still refuse to let tears escape. You look in the mirror once more, noticing just how tattered and covered in blood your clothes were, deciding to change into clean clothes one last time before continuing packing. Once the bag is full you head back to the deck and climb down a rope into the debris-ridden water below. You remember seeing a rowboat across the way from the now half sunk marine ship and you intended to use it.

~~~

        “What the fuck Kid” Killer gripped Kid's shoulder and turned him around as he could see y/n escape into the hallway, “What was that all about?” Killer couldn’t believe the words he had just heard from his captain and lover's mouth.

        “She fucken deserved it. What makes her think she can boss me around?” Kid was obviously still pissed beyond belief, huffing with anger in every breathe. He brushes past Killer, “If you need me I’ll be in my workshop.” Killer let out an exasperated sigh before trying to go find y/n on the ship.

~~~

By the time anyone had noticed you were gone, you had already found a row boat and started drifting away in the opposite direction of the ship.

Killer had told the rest of the crew to tell him when they find you but he had only assumed you needed some space after such a heated debate. He didn’t even bother to check the Captain’s Quarters, he doubted you wanted to be in such a place right now, if anything you’d be in a corner hitting the wall or a tight space to breathe and calm down. But as time went on, he grew increasingly more concerned at not hearing or seeing you.

Kid emerged from his workshop a couple of hours after the argument, cooled down a bit, and tired. The sun was long gone as he made his way to his room. In the past, your arguments could get out of hand but Kid could still find you angrily sleeping in his bed next to, or on top of Killer, begrudgingly making room for him. This time on the other, neither you nor killer were in bed, or even in the room for that matter.

He looked around to see your discarded clothes tossed on the ground and he noticed a lot more blood than he’d care to admit, had she been covered in this much when we were fighting? Regardless Kid turned on his heel to search for his two closest crew members.

Soon enough he ran into Hip who was carrying medical supplies, “Oh, Hey Captain. Have you seen y/n? She still hasn’t come to get patched up yet despite promising me she’d come later.” Kid stares at her for a second before she chuckles a bit, “Or did you take care of the wound yourself? How kind. Just remind her to change her bandages.” Kid stood there processing Hips words and she walked away chuckling. She was hurt? Why the fuck did she start a fight before getting treated? Kid started pacing the ship before he ran into an equally worried Killer.

“Kid have you seen y/n?” The taller blonde seemed to be anxious.

“Does it look like I’ve fucken seen her?” Kid snapped at his first mate, “Where the fuck could she have gone?”

~~~

You lay in the boat looking at the sky. The pain in your shoulder growing. You grit your teeth into some clothe as your fingers try to dig the bullet out. After another failed attempt you let out a painful, sorrow filled scream. You had realized a little to late into your little journey that when you were shot, the bullet never made it all the way through.

Truly, it was a great distraction from the events post battle. As you finally breathe in again you let your arm trying to dig the bullet out fall onto the floor of the boat. The adrenaline must have worn off at this point. The pain truly setting in as your mind wanders to what Kid said to you.

Finally, after hours of pretending to be strong. You let it out, you place your now bloodied hand on top of your eyes as the tears overflow.

[possessionisamyth]

Not to kick a dead horse, but there is a way to make Pier's death genuinely very loaded and tragic that fandom consensus just seems to continue to miss! I've never seen a take about Piers's death being about PIERS, but all about "ooohh chris lost a good one" and how the two are not able to fuck anymore. But I am going to free you from these shackles while I zero in on Chris' comment of

"I wanted him to replace me."

Surely Piers was being trained to take Chris' job ideally after a decent retirement party, but neither of them get that luxury because Edonia happens, and Chris is gone. The beloved captain has vanished, and the person who's supposed to take his job is right there, so they give it to him. It's Piers responsibility to not only be a face of what the BSAA represents, but also the heavy shackles of expectations are slapped onto him.

Everyone wants Chris, which means Piers can't be himself nor figure out how to run the same jobs his way. No, it has to be Chris' way. There's no time for anyone to adjust and shift gears either with the C-Virus outbreaks, the terrorist attacks from Ada*(Carla), and the search party he shambled together to locate the missing Redfield. So he tries his damnedest to fill Chris' shoes and suddenly realizes just how out of his depth he is. There were so many reasons people called Chris for certain tasks, even tasks Piers hadn't known about and definitely hadn't been trained on, that Piers never saw. There's no mentor to dial. No reference other than fellow soldiers saying things like, "We don't know how, he just got it done," which is the least helpful thing in the world. Hell, there's barely any notes to go through when he searches Chris' office for a semblance of a hint as to how he should do this job.

Maybe it turns out Chris was doing his best to gently ease that heavy mantle into Piers' hands. It's why his scheduled retirement seemed so far away at the time. Perhaps, after one comment too many where he'd been accidentally addressed by the name of his captain for the 50th time, Piers breaks. He can't do this. He's not ready for this. He needs the one person who did all this back by any means necessary, so he drops all the work and joins the search party. He verbally harasses an amnesiac Chris into coming back because maybe it isn't that bad. Maybe Chris just needs a reminder of what he's been doing everyday for literal years and things would be back to normal again.

But it's not. It's messier. It's uglier. This isn't the Chris he worked so hard to fight alongside. There are glimpses of him in there, but most of the time in China, Piers feels like he's working with a stranger. People die, and Chris keeps pushing forward no matter how much he's shouted at, and Piers feels like this is all his fault. The deaths are his fault because he couldn't buckle down and do what Chris originally wanted him to do. Take Chris' place. Replace him. Be better than him.

So when they go to that underwater facility, and their backs are against the wall, there's the looming sense of failure and a terrifying amount of pressure. If they get out of this alive, who knows when Chris would be back in shape to work again if that ever happens. Piers would have to be responsible. He was already responsible for the squad he gathered to take up this job, and they were skewed into pieces around downtown Lanshiang. Take Chris' place. Replace him. Be better than him, and Piers failed on all accounts. He couldn't get Chris back the way he was supposed to be. His squad was dead. The responsibility he'd have to take up if they made it out alive would be nigh unbearable, and then he gets infected.

He gets infected and suddenly the decision is so easy. To let go. To hope for the best. To be the one left behind when he was supposed to be the one moving towards the future. Another glimpse of the Chris that Piers knew is seen, a more confident glimpse wherein Chris does everything he can to try and save him. And Piers smiles when Chris fails. When he saves Chris. When he seems to finally do one thing right after things never seemed to stop falling apart.

It's the last thing Chris sees. That smile and the ever encroaching weight of immeasurable responsibility that'll grasp him tight as soon as he breaks the surface. The weight Piers couldn't take from him, and maybe never wanted in the first place.

[grandlinedreams]

I always see strawhat!reader x law stories all over the place, so can I request a kid pirate!reader x law? Where, specifically the reader is Kid’s younger sister (or killer’s, I mean a sister of one is basically the sister of the other)?

YES oh my god I didn't know I needed this til I wrote it and I hope that you like it too!! I think having Kid as a big brother would either be the best or worst thing in the world ㅡ set somewhere in timeline idk maybe around Stampede

[Heads up!: afab/fem aligned reader, some cursing, shovel talk from kid, established relationship]

Being in the same pirate crew as your older brother in and of itself is a little odd. Being in the same pirate crew as your older brother when he's the captain makes it a little odder, you suppose. At least to those who only see it at a glance, brief glimpses rather than seeing the whole picture.

You don't mind, not really. Most older brothers would probably have tried to talk their younger sister from becoming a pirate ㅡ but all Kid had done was stare at you and then scoff. "I'm not your damn babysitter, I won't stop you."

And that was that ㅡ if there'd been dissent when you joined, Kid put a swift stop to it with a fierce glare and well-described threats about what would happen if they laid a finger on you. But you're strong in your own right, and the one or two who continued to push the matter learned it the hard way.

And truth be told, Kid doesn't treat you like his little sister. He's your older brother yes, and there are hints of it here and there when you know where to look, but it's Killer who takes on the softer aspects of being an older brother to you when you need it.

Which is what makes this so surprising that it's Kid who's staring down the man you've been dating behind his back.

"So." Crimson eyes lock with gold. "You and my sister, huh." His attention shifts to you for a moment. "How long has that been going on?"

"Not longㅡ"

"A while."

If Law can feel your furious look aimed for him, he doesn't show it. Kid looks far from thrilled at the differing answers, scowling as he refocuses on Law.

"Guess it doesn't matter how long it's been going on, becauseㅡ"

"Because I'm a grownass adult, Kid!" You snap, frustrated with your brother who looks like he'd like nothing more to swing a fist at Law. He turns on you, and you match his glare for its intensity. "I'm not going to let you ruin something good for me because you decided to pull the older sibling card for once."

You know Kid cares, you know he loves you ㅡ and you love him just as much, because at the end of the day, he's your brother.

Kid stares at you for several long moments before he scoffs. "Fine. Do what you want. But you're not leaving us for that shitty crew of his."

"I wasn't planning on it, asshole! Somebody's gotta help Killer keep your dumb ass alive!"

"Don't yell at me, I'm still your older brother!" Kid glares at you and you match his gaze for its intensity before he rounds on Law. "If you hurt her, I'll let her kick your ass first, and then I'll finish the job."

Law meets his glare, his expression carefully blank. "I wasn't planning to."

Kid scoffs before he shifts his attention back to you. "I'm giving you two minutes to do whatever you need to before we leave, with or without you."

"And here you said I wasn't allowed to join their crew." Your eyes gleam. "Doesn't give me much choice if you leave me here."

Kid scowls before he stalks off, mumbling loud enough that you can hear his complaints of "dumbass little sister" and "been a pain in my ass since you were born" before it fades completely.

"That went about as well as I expected," you sigh before you approach Law. "He's nowhere near as scary as everyone thinks when you have as much blackmail as I do."

"He doesn't scare me." Law glances at you. "It's still surprising that you're related."

You raise an eyebrow. "I'll take that as a compliment." Stepping closer, you lean up to press your lips against his in a short, chaste kiss. "I should go. Don't need him figuring out that we've done more than just kiss."

[mushroomwoods]

Alive and Breathing

the warrior was used to this setting, something that usually seemed so harmless, dragging things he cherished out of his hands, this time though, he wouldn't just watch as death tried to take what's his, not matter the cost or the amount of blood he had to bathe in, it would never take you away from him.

character — Warriors, romantic.

cw — yandere behaviour, kidnapping, drugging, manipulation/gaslighting, morally grey actions, vomiting, dubious consent (kiss).

I'm really sorry for the wait, ky dearies, ended up having a... troubling day yesterday which made me set off posting this sooner. I also took the liberty to make some alterations to Wars occupation in his game, but it was barely mentioned in passing, I just thought it would fit better with the whole story.

You were alive, breathing and well.

It was just a mild scratch you received while blocking a blow for the healer. You all knew how he was the most precious asset in the party should someone fall or the potions and fairies fail.

It was only natural, they all had been in this spot and even when Hyrule seemed uncomfortable with the overprotective attention, he didn't express it, knowing the end goal behind it.

Still, his mind screamed and scrambled for a way to treat it, scared of what might happen if it was to leave unattended.

He mentioned the scratch in passing, which you hadn't even noticed, chuckling at his worries and brushing your sleeve against it to remove the dried blood.

Too rough, it could leave blemishes and get infected like that.

Still, he kept his mouth shut, joking about your carelessness. He was good at that, not saying what was on his mind, keeping his innermost feeling hidden and locked like a treasure stash he was not willing to look through.

But you were alive, breathing and well.

That's what counts, right?

Until he saw you up to another gimmick with Wild or Wind, he felt his heart leap whenever you came back littered in injuries or soaked from head to toes in a especially chilly day.

He glared a warning to his fellow heroes, before continuing with his “hovering”, as the others liked to call it, drying your hair and patching any injury he could spot on your body.

You would just laugh and brush off when he said that even small things like that could make someone sick if they were outside and on the walk like you were.

He couldn't help but care about your careless and blame himself for not looking after you better.

At least you were alive, breathing and well.

Or at least he thought, before the deafening sound of an arrow bomb set off behind him, your scream resounding right after as the cliff they travelled through started collapsing under your footing.

His reaction time, often so quick, now seemed worryingly slow, his hand only brushing past yours as you fell right before his eyes.

He could take relief in the fact that the Hero of the Wilds reflexes were faster than his and thus he didn't think twice before diving right after you, glider in the wait.

After that his only job was to take care of those measly monster, those that tried to put you in harms way, he barely processed the inky black blood dropping from his hand and sword, his usually pristine stance in battle now messy as he all but pushed through the wave of infected monsters, the group barely needing to do anything as they could only watching Warriors turn into the real war captain he once acted as.

No one said a thing about how his unusually angered facade melted into a smile as soon as you were brought back to the group, a now clean hand settling onto your face as he scanned for any injury with a sickeningly sweet voice.

The way his jaw and fists clenched at any mention of the accident was enough to make the others backtrack on asking if he was alright.

Thankfully you were alive, breathing and well.

But there was only so much the man could take before his optimistic instance would crumble.

The final push for his resolution to shatter was the moment he stepped into his Hyrule, the place he knew the best just how dangerous it could be.

The place he knew the best who he could trust.

Zelda's warm welcome was immediately shut down as she stared into her friend face. She could say he was never in his topmost form while on the battlefront, however his sunken eyes and shaking hands were enough of a tell just from how deep of a inner turmoil he was.

She greeted the other heroes briefly, before excusing herself with the warrior and the general at her tail.

His blue scarf wasn't on sight even once for the next few days, the attendants that cared for the group did make sure to pass on his moves and plans, alike from any information of his land that any of you might need, however never once he showed up to tell them, even when the princess herself did.

It was only on the fourth day that he finally made an appearance, already sat by the table while having a not so friendly discussion with Impa, the scowl in the woman's face only deepening further when the group of heroes entered the dining room.

No words were uttered between the two after that, but somehow, even with the thick air around and how tense everyone was discussing what should their next move be, you slept like never before.

All whilst he just hoped you'd stay alive, breathing and well.

The strange lethargy of that day continued and worsened, the weapon in your hands heavy like a thousand bricks, something that should be easy for you to parry suddenly making your head spin and your body crumble, your hands automatically letting go of your weapon as your body fell to floor, everything you had consumed during breakfast coming up and ripping through your throat, the acid taste and smell making your stomach churn further as tears gathered at the sides of your eyes.

Your eyes closed as the world around you spun, hearing vaguely Legend's voice near you, before many other quickly approached.

A rough hand made contact with your forehead, from the corner if your eye you could spot the waves of blue falling beneath streaks of light blonde hair. Warriors made quick work after noticing how much you sweated and shuddered under his touch. He bit back a mirthful smile.

Things stayed the same for days on end, your situation didn't get any better and actually even worsened, both the faerie and the princess magic failing to heal or at least find any reason for your sudden illness.

In your hazy daze you wouldn't even be able to notice Time's side glances to the scarfed warrior or how Four bit back a curse when he would once again be denied to at least see you before departing, the princess stance rigid as she said mentioned you being a patient under strict supervision, the tea Warriors brought to you looking like anything but the supposed medicine you were supposed to be taking.

There was only so much they could do to help you, before agreeing that taking any longer would just make them lag behind even more than they already did.

The night they departed Warriors visited your room a last time, your sleeping form far more peaceful than the days prior.

A smiled spread over his face, venomous, hands brushing carefully past the scar on your left cheek before his head dipped down.

A creak by the door cut his time shorter than he would've liked, he could spend days on end just watching you, sweet, beautiful you.

“I belive it's time to go, Hero.” Impa voice sounded as imposing as ever. She didn't agree with his plan, but she was never one to go against it if Zelda was on his side.

“Unfortunately so...” His voice was quieter than ever, a peace uncommon of him. “I will be back soon my dear.”

Thus he sealed the deal.

As for now he would at least settle for having you alive and breathing.

[zoeysdamn]

A/N: so. @corpsebasil got me on a chokehold with knight!Nikolaï AU and now I live for that. It inspired me SO MANY THINGS (mainly crushing angst or filthy smut), but you know me: when writing, I choose the ✨angst✨uhuh So here's a following scene of this one-shot that absolutely destroyed me; I'm here to finish the job (read it first, you won't regret it)

Running after lost time

Echoes of rumble from outside resonated within the stone walls of the chapel. Yet, inside, everything was so silent. Dead silent. 

Kneeling on the cold ground, not even the heavy lump in your throat could make you move. It was like the heaviness of your broken heart was keeping you here, unable to move, in front of the wooden coffin. The tears had dried a long time ago, but you could still feel the deep mark they had left on your cheeks. Now, the tears seemed to be blocked in your throat. Not that you would be able, or wished to speak, anyway. Your voice too, had disappeared after screaming for so long, out of grief, anger and pain. That was all that was left of him, it seemed. 

Breaking the silence of the chapel, someone cleared their throat. 

“They are waiting.” 

You didn’t move. The rigged surface of the wood beneath your fingers was the only thing mattering right now. The feeling was probably the only thing that made you able to not cry again. Just maybe. 

Footsteps carefully came closer – but thankfully, they stopped at a good distance from you. Like they knew if they came any closer, you’d probably lost it. He was maybe a humble captain soldier that came back from war, but Dominik wasn’t a fool with a death wish. 

“They are waiting,” he repeated. 

“I don’t care,” you muttered, voice broken from the endless crying hours. 

The soldier winced. He knew he should be insisting; that the crowd, the army official, the priest, even the royal family were waiting outside of the door, for the funeral service to begin. To pay their respects to Sir Nikolaï, national hero fallen in combat. 

But right now, he couldn’t bring himself to make you move – who was he to force you to do anything right now? 

Still, the sense of duty remained. For his sake. 

“The ceremony should have started half an hour ago, princess”, he reminded you in a firm tone.

You could have his head for how he spoke to you. But under the firmness of his demand, you sensed the lingering pain. He, too, has lost a friend after all. 

Still, you couldn’t bring yourself to care. Your own pain was too overwhelming to allow you to feel anything else – including empathy. 

It had been Nikolaï that had made you alive ; his presence, his laughs, his touch… without him, you simply couldn’t continue to live like you used to. How could you continue to do this without him? 

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you tried to hold back the tears that had started to form again at the memory of Nikolaï. “They’ll wait,” you rasped. “I can’t – I need more time…”

The soldier felt his own throat tighten at the sound of your broken voice. He couldn’t see your face, hidden under the black grieving veil, but knew how deep the sadness had marked your traits for the past few days. 

A new rumble from the crowd outside echoed, and your hands clutched on the cloth draped on the middle of the coffin. The double-headed eagle, proud symbol of Ravka, distorted under your trembling hands. A ray of light, guided by the stained glass, glinted on the rough edge of the ring adorning your hand. 

The jewelry that had held so much hope during his time away weighted on your finger. The green stone was a painful reminder of his absence – despite what he promised when he gave you this ring that night. When he had promised to come back to you, when you had held on each other, loving each other so intensely after you exchanged your vows – 

“His brother will be here,” Dominik noted out loud, interrupting your spiraling thoughts. The snarl that escaped you was very much unladylike. 

“Then he’ll wait too,” you spat. 

“Princess–”

“He will. Wait.”

This wasn't appropriate to have such bitter thoughts. But right now all you thought about Nikolaï's brother was an angry one. Why wasn't he the one who died, instead of Sir Nikolaï ?

Just as quick as it came, the idea was brushed away; still, the thought remained, anchored deep into your mind.

Nikolaï has spoken to you about his brother only once: a general in the army, who despised him and had very little contact with — but still his brother. 

And the thought that Vasily should have died instead of Nikolaï would never truly leave you. Some nights, you'd even pray, beg to the very Saints who had been witness of your union, to take Vasily's life and bring your beloved back. 

But despite the pain, the anger and all the tears, a part of you knew this would never happen. A rational part of you knew, that eventually you'd have to open those chapel doors, face the crowd, and go throughout the funeral with your head held high. You knew, that someday you'll have to leave the castle to live as a recluse widow. There wasn't anything left for you anyway, once Nikolaï's coffin would be buried. 

Sniffling, you tightened a trembling hand on the rough wood.

"Open the doors," you let out in a shaky whisper, much to Dominik's surprise. "But…in a minute please, I— I just need a little more time with him…"

Bowing his head, the soldier stepped away respectfully. He'd give you all the minutes you'll need.

After all, even if he wanted to bury Nikolaï and pay a last respect to his captain and friend, the Princess needed this.

After all, you needed to grasp those precious minutes, of the time with your husband that had been robbed from you.

Brb I'm gonna cry in a corner now

[thyla-scene360]

More Infection AU notes cuz why not

I decided it’d be fun to add some notes on the statuses of some of the characters at the beginning of the outbreak (basically the calm before the storm)

Peter Parker (Status: Alive, healthy) - is continuing his job at the Bugle (as well as being Spider-Man) like usual. He’s also started his Senior Year of High School. Fortunately, his job has gotten a lot quieter and easier to manage now that most of the big-time criminals are either in hiding or behind bars. However, for some reason his spider-sense keeps going off at random times, even when there’s no danger to be found. He tried to ignore it at first, but it’s only gotten more frequent and it’s put him on particularly high alert as of late. He doesn’t know what’s going on, but he’s got the bad feeling that something isn’t right.

George Stacy (Status: Alive, healthy) - continuing his job as police captain of the NYPD. He’s relieved that many of the big criminals have finally been put away; but with a job like his, there’s never any permanent peace. Within the workplace, he and his fellow officers have caught rumors of some new strain of flu going around - a particularly deadly strain. But they’re only rumors, and flu season IS this time of year after all (note: this story begins around late August).

Curiously, these rumors seem to coincide with a recent string of strange attacks throughout the city; reports state that the people attacked were ambushed by individuals who exhibited aggressive and strangely animalistic behavior (such as growling, scratching, and biting). None of these individuals have been caught yet, and a few of the attacked have wound up in the hospital to be treated for moderate injuries. George hopes these events aren’t related.

Doc Ock (Status: Alive, healthy) - is currently imprisoned at Ryker’s; after the whole Gangland fiasco, it was decided that there was no way he’d be going back to Ravencroft. Otto’s timid persona was found to be nothing more than an act, and as a result he was sent off to prison once more. He’s been stuck there ever since and has been planning his escape. Luckily, he has many of his fellow colleagues there (The Enforcers, Adrian, Rhino) to help him plan, and he’s been working with Tinkerer and Quentin on the outside to provide backup. Now he’s just waiting for the perfect opportunity to put everything into motion. He’s vaguely aware of the recent rumors going around - some new sort of flu? He pays it no mind however. People get sick all the time, especially in such a dirty, cramped place as Ryker’s.

[redheadspark]

For your may prompts!

16. Being ready for the next step with Oliver Wood, I miss him.

happy writing!

A/N - YAY STELLA! I love this request for our boy Oliver! How fantastic, thanks for requesting this bestie!

Present

Summary - Oliver only wanted to think of the future and what was ahead, and all you can think about was the present.

Warnings - nothing but fluff for Oliver!

"We need to go over the plan again,"

"What plan, Oli?"

"Our main plan! You know, the plan of all plans!"

"Darling, I think there has been a hiccup with that plan, clearly,"

Oliver paused as you were perched in your chair, eyeing him with a wide grin as he was looking from your eyes over to the clear evidence that was on your lower stomach.

Your pregnant stomach, shows you were due in 3 weeks.

Oliver, being the over-planner since his earlier days in Hogwarts as the Gryffindor Quidditch Captain for some years, wanted to plan out his future as a married couple. You both had decent jobs and were making decent money, especially since you two were young and recently married.

The only hiccup that did happen was the Second Wizarding War that took place at your old school, to which you both went to fight against Voldemort and the Death Eaters. It was a long and violent night, though you both made it out alive. Since Voldemort's defeat, Oliver wanted to move on and have a normal life with you. As did the rest of the world, but especially Oliver.

So now, a year after the Battle at Hogwarts and things once again calming down, you found out you were pregnant. You were shocked, but it wasn't too scandalous or a big ordeal. Oliver wanted kids, he grew up around plenty of cousins and little ones in his home and he grew attached to the thought of being a dad. You wanted kids too, though you were thinking that you were a bit farther down the lane in your marriage. But you both were excited, about having a new little one in the world to care for and to raise,

Better now than back when Voldemort was still at large.

"This little one has made a hiccup in our plan, Mr. Wood," You reminded him as he sat on the same ottoman where your feet were perched, taking one foot in hand and massaging the swollen ankles and the sole of your foot, "And although we are excited to have a little one around here very soon...I know you're anxious,"

"How can I not be?" Oliver asked in a shrug, "We're still healin' from what happened. The Weasleys still need us, they haven't been the same since..."

He paused, looking down for a second and you knew who he was talking about. You hummed.

"I know, sweetheart." You reassured him, "I think you've been doing an amazing job looking after Ginny and George, even Molly has been telling me you're amazing for helping her and the family,"

"They've been my second family for some time, apart from you," Oliver hummed with a small smile as he continued his massage on your other foot, "I'm glad we have George as the Godfather,"

"I'm quite surprised you didn't ask Harry," You tased him as he pinched your ankle in retaliation, "We need to invite him and Teddy over for dinner one of these days, after the baby comes,"

"I'd like that," Oliver agreed, you rubbing your belly and leaning back a bit in your chair, "You think we're ready for this? Being parents and having a baby around here?"

"Yes, yes I do," He replied instantly, making your smile go big as he placed your feet back on the ottoman before facing you, running his fingers up and down your leg.

"It's gonna be a huge step for us," You reminded him.

"Aye, but a step we can take together," He explained, "I keep thinkin' back to if we were doin' this during the war, and if somethin' would have happened to ya. I'm just...I'm glad we're doin' this now,"

You sat up a bit and took his hand in your own, feeling him hold your hand nice and tight. Olived love you with all of him, every ounce and every inch. Working so hard to get where you were, dealing with and surviving a War that almost ruined everything for you, it seemed as though you two could conquer anything. You would do anything, be anything, to be with Oliver and to have this happiness stay.

"Me too," You agreed as Oliver leaned over to kiss your cheek lovingly, "And I am still not convinced that we were having a daughter."

Oliver laughed, "I think we are! Didn't it say in that muggle book that if your belly's low it's a girl?"

"Since when do you read those books?" You asked him in a mocked challenging tone.

"Since I found out I'm gonna be a Da!" He replied, poking your side, "Our little gal is gonna be a flyer, like her mum, and a quidditch player, just like her Da!"

"We'll have to see, won't we? And don't start planning her life out already, Oli! Wait until she comes at least!"

"Okay okay!" He replied

He kept that promise, waiting until his daughter Poppy Wood was placed in his arms 3 weeks later.

The End

May Prompt Session

[ontheoddoccasioniwritestuff]

Star-crossed in the Crosshairs (John Price x Reader)

Chapter 5: Trying To Keep An Eye

Fic Summary: This mission is the pinnacle of your efforts for the past three years. Your whole team and yourself have worked countless hours, slaughtered hundreds, risked life and limb for scraps of intel, and now it all boiled down to pairing up with another taskforce to get this job done and dusted. An unexpected spanner in the works comes in the shape of your former best friend, now also a Captain and somehow resurrected from his KIA status, John Price.

You can’t afford to let feelings - old and new - get in the way of your purpose. No matter how much you’ve missed, wished for, loved him, and no matter how much he might feel the same.

Content warnings: Usual COD content (violence, torture, death, guns), mutual pining, back from the dead, friends to allies to lovers, Reader is GN, some use of Y/N.

Chapter 4 // Masterlist // AO3 Version // Chapter 6

Within two hours, you had a new safe-house: a bungalow in Pethklin. It was a five hour drive away, and an hour’s hike to the garage that Laswell arranged for your vehicle to be dropped off at. Fair play to her, she was making magic out of thin air – even if it was an unreliable Land Rover that choked on its own fumes.

Since Soap was one of the few you put on sleep first, he took the chance to drive. A couple of your team started kipping, either pressed against the window or with their head lolled. You stayed awake, as did Gaz and Ghost. Your mind had yet to come down from the ledge it had scaled in its adrenaline-addled state. Your stare darted from the rocky countryside slipping into marshy fields between checking on your team, trusting that they’d reported all injury and were still fit to continue. After the revelation of the budding romance within the unit, the shaken trust within you was still trying to find its feet. It would do so by the first hour mark into the journey, when you had to stop so that Soap could swap with you. Somehow having your entire team physically within your hands as you held steady the steering wheel made you feel better. The rumble of the engine and snoring behind you vibrated against your palms.

The next safe-house itself was a dusty dreary sort of place, but its offerings were ones welcomed with open arms and a couple of sneezes that cleared your head completely – like they switched you on and off again.

A fragment of you wanted to sleep desperately, but first you demanded your team rest up for the following few hours. You were met without complaint and soon the room was filled with snoring, plus the occasional scraping of a fork against a mess tin. Meanwhile, you were required to catch-up with Laswell and Fernandez, who’d used drones to track the chosen few soldiers who’d made it out of the forest alive.

“They retreated to the warehouse to lick their wounds. Then it was destroyed with them in it by long-range missile about just minutes ago.”

Čiernik was never the type to blow things up in order to cover his tracks. It must’ve been Shepherd’s efforts. Apparently his slapdash attempts at covering his tracks clearly had been used the same methods before in the 141’s experience; it was kinda funny that his instinct was to blow up the evidence, drawing more attention to his dirty secrets. At least it would theoretically make him easier to track.

Rereading the sheets of paper that Gaz had recovered, and yours too, fuelled the hopes of getting further links to Shepherd and this whole mess. Once the team were down for a round of sleeping/eating, you set up the computers to get on call with the data. It was making your head hurt so you knocked back an MRE – Bolognese, your second favourite – and scheduled yourself in for a nap after the call. Thank God it perked you up slightly. Within the hour, Laswell came in clutch with more intel that had flourished from what you’d discovered.

“General Shepherd bought a place in Odristan using the same offshore account three years ago. It’s the one you found the floor plans of.”

“Laswell, you’re an absolute delight!” You declared to her pixelated form onscreen. She dismissed your compliment, but you knew what you had said was both warranted and honest.

You double-checked the sensors outside of the safe-house once the call ended, thanking Laswell again for finding you such a place with technology available to get your sleep schedule right again. Ghost was still on watch though. He insisted on it, in fact, parking himself at the window with his rifle’s scope.

Satisfied, you decided to take your official break, nearly bumping intoCrash on the way to your pack. She repelled from you like a magnet of opposite poles.

“Sorry,” She said quickly, ducking off to another part of the safe-house.

“’S alright,” you said half-heartedly, pushing the guilt over her sorrow down into your bag before resting your head on it and tucking yourself into the corner for the length of your slot.

It took a while for you to convince yourself to sleep. The sudden self-consciousness was rooted in reality, but you hoped that you were too tired to have any “dreams”. There’s a time and place for a nightmare. This was neither. Especially when the subject of many of those nightmares was contained in the same four walls as yourself. In the past, you’d caught yourself making a few unnerving sounds upon waking up, plus the sweat, the lingering dread, the exhaustion that followed you around like your shadow – only slightly more pathetic and tenacious. To do so in front of your team, plus Price? You had prided yourself on your compartmentalisation, but given how you’d been wavering about keeping your emotions mostly in check around that particular topic, you weren’t so sure. Especially after he’d saved your life.

You didn’t remember dropping off. But thank God any form of nightmare eluded you for once, in favour of a vision about Moore having afternoon tea with you and how he kept talking about the importance of harvesting pumpkins the second they were ripe. You had no idea if the dream ghost of Moore was correct on that front. Gardening was something you’d filed away for potential retirement hobbies.

Nevertheless, you woke up feeling slightly better than when your head hit your bag and with your laptop beeping for you to pay it some attention.

A cup appeared in your line of sight before you could turn off the make-shift alarm, and you tilted your head back to see that it was Price handing you a steaming coffee.

“Thank you, Captain,” you muttered before taking a sip.

Price straightened back up, “You’re welcome, Captain.” And he offered you a brief smile.

Asshole, you thought sarcastically whilst he walked away, smiling back but hiding it in your cup. Then you felt a pang of anxiety. You knew what over, and the ridicule you scolded yourself for feeling did not leave despite your best efforts. Because somehow, in its locked box, buried deep in the core of your being, hope began to strive for space to flourish. It was not welcome, and certainly not during a mission. The tremor in your hand forced your back up and the curve of your skull slow tap-tapping back on the wall to take a few disguised deep breaths, carefully watching Chance do press-ups between the sleeping Soap and Bronze on the other side of the room.

Focus returning through the smog of sleep, you tapped in your password, continuing the plan of the stakeout (take two).

That afternoon, you left one safe-house and went ahead without the next in mind. Instead, your destination was one end of the town Shepherd’s villa was located in Nemšiná – right on the Russian border. The villa itself, near the west side, was your target.

“Villa” gave the impression of some tucked-away, tidy little home. "Manor" was more accurate, carved in giant slabs of stone stacked. Using binoculars from the roof of a stack of apartments, you surveyed the gated area with security guards (no doubt well-trained officers dressed up as mall cops) patrolling the entrances. Lush lawns seemed to have their grass cut using a ruler, though the sprinklers were currently off the clock. Low lights illuminated the homestead up its many floors. Through lace curtains were shadows of armed folks, though they sauntered about without a care of who might spot them, sipping from martini glasses and whiskey tumblers. This entire setting felt a bit flash for Čiernik’s tastes.

And yet, there he was: standing upon one of the balconies, second floor, sipping from a port glass and talking on a burner phone.

“Target located,” You reported Fernandez.  

“Bravo team and Sierra team will meet you at the rendezvous point in half an hour. And Captain, I want him - dead or alive.”

About time you got your hands dirty.

“Copy that.”

Evening drew in fast and shrouded you all in the darkness required to hide your deeds from the world.Your team grew in size beyond Nemšiná’s horizon, Bravo and Sierra’s helicopters landing miles away then bringing them to you in armoured vehicles of your own (with no trees in the way). Ten of their operators and your twelve made for an impressive combined unit, armed, trained by yourself and your chosen few, ready at your command.

“Bravo team, you’re on Captain Price taking the rear of the building. Sierra team, you’ll be with me breaking down the east side. Clear the building, take out his crew. This is capture or kill, so don’t go acting the hero if he’s got others with him.” You unfolded your arms, finding your automatic weapon with ease. “Right, let’s take him down.”

Locked and loaded, you drove your operatives over to the town, then dismounted onto foot at the outskirts.Passing by houses with darkened windows, the streets were too empty of all life. Not a drunk stumbling home, not a couple out on date night with arms’ linked, not even a stray cat. Boots on tar barely made a sound against the silent backdrop of Nemšiná.

You had barely broken a sweat when you skirted the perimeter of Čiernik’s villa. Three of you acted as one, grabbing the security guards and throttling them before swiftly depositing the bodies in the shrubbery lest any prying and unaccounted for eyes offer the garden a quick glance. As the final body hit the cushion of the earth, the whole team emerged as extensions of one another, each action reflexive as they entered the ground floor. You didn’t get that kind of relationship on a whim. You never take it for granted, and if the day came that you did, you’d welcome the bullet that’d strike you from the Earth for doing so.

Like parts of a well-oiled machine, the men inside were no match for your silent take downs. It was their fortune rather than your error that landed one bloke facing the door you entered, his surprise limited him to one shot aimed at you. Your instincts guided you below the level of the couch, the bullet missing narrowly before you put down your attempted killer, but your stealth was broken. Overhead, heavy footsteps began charging around.

“Pushing forwards, prepare for engagement,” You said down your radio, met back with a few

The next room handed you two men, aiming unprepared for yourself and Chance to take out fast. Each door revealed more of your targets and each time they were battered by your bullets with hardly any time to respond with their own. Up the stairs, you approached the next floor.

Just as the muzzle of your gun aligned with the end of the wall, something cracked around and into your vest, sending you reeling back. The spacing saved Chance behind you from being thrown off balance, and she fired a shotgun shell into the shoulder of your attacker. He dropped the sledgehammer- sledgehammer that he’d smacked into your chest right beside you. More than pissed off, you swiped his leg out from under him then, swiping his weapon, you crushed his windpipe with an almighty swing of the sledgehammer.

You dropped it sharpish, pointing to his head then yours with a cough, “Helmet would’ve meant an extra whack.”

More gunfire popped around the villa. Your gun fit neatly back into your hands, given back by Chance with a nod. Onwards you went, sweeping and clearing the floor, some of your team remaining in rooms to sift through any potential intel and dodging gunfire through the floor. You pushed on; Čiernik was not yet amongst the bodies you left in your wake.

Your comms crackled then Gaz’s voice rang out, “Bravo Six is down!”

Your hand leapt to your comms, “Where?”

“South sitting room, first floor-”

“Bravo-5, are you able to withdraw to administer first aid?” You fired on a man who’d sprinted around the corner, sending him to the afterlife before he’d had to chance to raise his weapon, “Gaz?”

There was a beep of his comms then a gunshot down the microphone.

Put your hand on Chance’s shoulder, “Continue upstairs, find Čiernik.”

“Got it,” Chance continued where you’d left off, taking the team through.

Doubling back took no time at all, even whilst still taking necessary precaution to check each corner and think “clear” through each room. A map of the building from your memory guided you through, but following the audible breadcrumbs of where the most gunfire was coming from would’ve sufficed had your brain failed you in its panic to prevent history from repeating.

Through a crack in the door, you saw Gaz flattened to the floor behind a frayed armchair, ripped apart and spewing fluff out the grey woven upholstery as unseen enemies fired. Balanced between slow enough to not draw any attention, but fast enough to aid your operator, you pushed the door open. Your new angle allowed you to give the enemy the same treatment as they gave the chair before you burst in and found Gaz had hidden Price along the overturned coffee table, drawing fire away from his injured Captain. Instantly, you saw the side of his helmet that had shattered under a high calibre bullet and another lodged in his vest.

“I’m good,” Price wheezed, loosening the grip on his gun to feel up his chest, attempting to retrieve his scissors.

“You and your fucking-” You snatched them off him.

“Bruised lung no doubt.”

With steady hands, you cut the strap of his helmet, tossing it aside to assess any damage, “Never mind your lung, don’t matter if you’ve got no bloody head.”

Price tried grabbing your hands from his head but you grappled tight, knowing that you might’ve caused more damage in your stubbornness. Gaz shone a torch into Price’s eyes and you watched the pupils dilate against the sound of your teams advancing without you.

“They need you, go! Gaz’s got me,” Price swatted again at you until he had your chin in a strong grip, “Nerve, go.”

You blinked and wrenched away from his gloved touch as your earpiece fed you a teammate’s voice with your current callsign contrasting the old in front of you: “Sierra-7, we’ve found Čiernik!” Then you ran away.

________________

AN: Thank you so much for your patience. I've left my job and started my teaching placement so it's all go ahead with me. Trying to make sure I find time to write my fics. Also I decided to rewrite chapter 6 and 7. But this will get finished by hook or by crook!

Other news, I'm going to see Boys From The Black Stuff in a few weeks! I'm so excited to see Barry perform since he's such a great actor and the reviews have been top notch. Plus my dad loves the OG show and it's very significant around the rise in working class dramaturgs and I wanna study it!! Do some deep dives!!

Tag-list: @mockerycrow and @entertain-my-lvst

[thychesters]

“Do you like cooking?”

Sanji looks up from where he’s quartering potatoes and isn’t sure what startles him more: that Luffy is in the kitchen and hasn’t tried to swipe a snack yet, or that he hadn’t heard him come in. (His captain is a great many things; quiet is not one of them.)

He stares at him, waiting, and the knife stills against the chopping block with a quiet thunk. Sanji blinks back at him through his bangs. The quartering continues.

“I’m good at it,” is all he says. He knows he comes off as distracted, too busy carefully considering the recipe Carne whipped together one day, long before the Straw Hats were even a blip in the grand scheme of things. Usopp had been the one to make the suggestion at the inordinate amount of potatoes they had in their pantry, and he’d squawked when Sanji dove past him to dig for the rest of the fixings for baked potato soup.

The kitchen smells of cooked bacon and freshly baked sourdough, carefully crafted from the starter Patty had given him when he’d left the Baratie, a gift passed with a grumbling about something to make sure Sanji didn’t forget how to cook.

“That’s not what I asked,” Luffy says, folding his arms on the other end of the table. He rests his cheek on them, watching him sideways. Sanji cuts an eye growing out of another potato but doesn’t look at him.

Does he like cooking? Of course, he’s good at it — he’s had a decade to hone his skills; lived under the gruff tutelage of an old geezer who’d just as soon tell him his bolognese sauce needed work as he would kick him upside the head as a way of telling him he did a good job. Of course he likes it, it’s a point of pride when he watches someone take their first bite and immediately dig in for another or ask for seconds; when someone sits back, eyes half-lidded and belly full and content.

“Do you like being a pirate?” he asks, depositing the last of the potato chunks into the pot, careful not to let the water splash out onto the burner. He shifts his attention to the bacon, picking up another knife to begin crumbling it.

He can sense rather than see Luffy immediately brighten. “Yeah! It’s a lot of adventure and finding cool things. I figure I gotta see everything if I’m gonna be King of the Pirates, right?” With a glance he can see Luffy’s sat back up, though he hasn’t broken his gaze with Sanji’s back, something firm in his eyes. “Doesn’t make sense to do something if you don’t like it.”

That gives Sanji pause, and he watches the bubbles drifting around in the pot to hide his frown. Of course he likes cooking; he enjoys it and is good at it. Because he keeps his crew alive – he’s sure Nami and Usopp have a grasp on a few recipes between the two of them, and Robin, while still an enigma, might be able to handle things. Chopper he isn’t sure of, but Zoro and Luffy are lost causes.

After a beat, he goes back to chopping bacon. That’s just it, isn’t it. Luffy’s not just a pirate, he’s the one who’s going to become King of the pirates. But then no one on this crew is just one thing; each of them have their strong suits and play off of one another. Nami’s not just their navigator, she spent her childhood bleeding ink for a man who sought to use her for her own purposes and now she’s set off to quite literally chart her own course on her terms. Zoro isn’t just a swordsman, he’s a moron with no sense of direction who’s also a voice of reason. Usopp’s the bravest coward he knows, a child who told lies in the hope they would one day be true, and ingenious with even a limited supply of materials. As for Sanji …

Of course he likes cooking. He can go to bed at night knowing his crew is full and nourished and no food has gone to waste. That they know what good food actually tastes like. He can clean the kitchen and have one last cigarette, content with the knowledge none of his crew will know hunger, that they will never know the purgatory of being lost at sea with nothing but mold and rocks, the feeling of the indentations of each of their ribs, or the exhaustion of staring out into the horizon, waiting for death or rescue, whichever comes first.

Of course he’s good at it because he has to be. Because he’ll keep that starving little boy fed until he loses the ability to pick up a knife, and then he will adapt from there. Because he will endure Luffy’s complaints that he wants a snack even if he’s still bloated from breakfast because his beaming face will never be gaunt and his expression hollow. Because it gives him a sense of purpose, even if he won’t blurt that in the middle of the kitchen, no matter that it’s just the two of them and he trusts Luffy with his life. He will never see that little boy reflected in any of them.

Bacon finished, he sets down his knife and turns back toward the table, adjusting his sleeve. A watched pot never boils, after all, and he leans against the counter, folding his arms as Luffy watches him patiently – or as patiently as someone like Luffy can.

“Yeah,” he says around an exhale. Because it makes sense to him, because there’s a reason for it and he is the one to provide it, this service, care, and support. His shoulders don’t sag and Luffy grins. “Yeah, I like cooking.”

[aldbooks]

Part 2 of the wonderful story started by @captain-of-the-gwynriel-shipas part of the ACOTAR Writing Circle hosted by @azrielshadowssing

Warnings: NSFW and BDSM themes

Find on AO3

Part 1 | Part 3

Summary: Working as a Spy for the Night Corp has gotten Gwyneth Berdara everything she ever wanted out of life: a group of friends who would die for each other, a chance to make a difference, and a love she only thought existed in fairytales.

Gwyn is undercover in Mayor Beron Vanserra's office to expose the hidden truths about how he came into power. Her true reasons for working at the Mayor's office aren't the only thing she's keeping secret. Her relationship with her supervisor, Azriel, is kept tightly under wraps. If anyone found out, it would change their lives forever. When a masquerade fundraiser poses the perfect setting for her mission to proceed, more than just Beron's secrets are brought to light.

Ch 2 - 3995 words

NSFW warning 🌶🌶🌶

“Son of a-” Gwyn swore viciously as Eris-fucking-Vanserra sauntered into Rhysand’s office and leaned against the side of the desk, smirking at her.

“Always a pleasure to see you, Berdara,” he crooned. Beside her, Azriel growled. Actually growled. It was a fight not to look at him. 

Quickly gathering herself, Gwyn leaned back in her chair, and returned Eris’ smirk with one of her own. “Daddy finally finished yelling at you?”

Something dark flashed in his eyes and for a moment she was struck by how much like his father he looked. Were it not for the red hair he inherited from his mother, Eris could have been Beron, twenty years younger. 

“Were you worried about me?” Eris asked with a little condescending pout. Gwyn rolled her eyes and Eris’ expression turned cold. “I’ve been dealing with my father for longer than you’ve been alive. Don’t cry for me. Besides, if you’ve done your job right and not just been parading around my father’s office in short skirts for the last month, no one will be dealing with him any longer after tomorrow night.”

Gwyn tensed, her lip curling at the insinuation she was incompetent at her job. She could feel Azriel preparing to lash out but, before either of them could respond to Eris’ taunting, Rhys stepped in. 

“Azriel was just assuring us we have what we need. Our teams have been coordinating the plans for tomorrow night, and you are all here to discuss your roles in those plans.” Rhys gestured to a third chair beside his desk that she had failed to notice earlier and Eris sat, smoothly reaching up to unbutton his suit jacket as he did so. Crossing one leg elegantly over the opposite knee, his elbows rested on the chair's arms, chin propped on the knuckles of one hand. The picture of arrogance.

She hated him.

Waving a hand lazily, Rhys said, “You have the floor, Eris.”

Amber eyes glided over Gwyn from head to toe in a clinical sort of assessment that set her teeth on edge. “If I know my father at all, he’ll have arranged for you to attend the gala in a dress he hand picked for his own pleasure. You can decide if you actually want to wear it or not,” he shrugged. “He’s equally as likely to either get you alone at the first opportunity to rage about it, as he is to ignore you entirely, as his own warped form of punishment for not capitulating to his commands.”

His voice was casual but there was something in his tone, a subtle edge of bitterness that made Gwyn think Eris had likely been subjected to the same sort of bullshit psychological games his whole life. Again, she felt a pang of sympathy for the man for having to put up with Beron as a father… if only just a little one.

“However,” Eris continued. “Invariably, the easiest way to rile him up and thus make more likely to make a mistake, is to piss him off as much as possible. To that end, I’ll be escorting you to the ball rather than sending you alone. Father never much cared for sharing his toys.”

Azriel shifted in his chair beside her, his entire body vibrating with tension. She would have been more inclined to be insulted by the insinuation that she was some sort of possession of Beron’s had Eris’ curling lip not made it obvious how distasteful he found the notion. If there was one good thing that could be said about the Vanserra brothers, among the cesspit that was their reputation, it was that they all loved their mother and she imagined seeing their father constantly disrespecting her with his various mistresses would disgust any of them. 

Rhys must have recognized that Az was about one more vague insult away from tearing the man to shreds as he once again stepped in. “Eris,” he sighed. “We could do without the colorful commentary. Please just explain the plan.”

Eris’ brow twitched challengingly at Azriel, and Gwyn had to resist the urge to reach out and grab his hand to calm him down. They just needed to get through this meeting and then she’d find an excuse for them both to go home early so she could help him release his anger in a more… fun manner.

Luckily, Eris seemed to understand how close he was to getting his ass beat and adopted a more professional demeanor. “Once we arrive, I’ll take you about the room a bit to give my father a good look at you with me, which should hopefully get him good and angry. I’ll then leave you at the bar or one of the tables to speak with some acquaintance or other, at which point, Beron will most likely abandon my mother to go after you.”

“This is the part where your… expertise, will be needed. He’ll try to get you alone somewhere out of the way where you’re not likely to make a scene, or draw attention- we’re hoping he’ll choose one of the exhibit halls near the back of the museum. From there just keep him distracted and focused and on you, to give the team time to get in place and, once they ambush you, you can play the innocent victim.” He gave her a condescending smirk. “I’d recommend lots of tears, if you can manage it, maybe some hysterical screaming. He has a thing for weak females-”

“We’ll take care of the rest from there, as usual,” Rhys said, cutting Eris off. “Once Beron is in custody, the information you gathered will be shared with our contact in the feds that will begin the public investigations and media coverage while we… take care of Beron. In whatever manner you choose,” he waved a hand at Eris who smiled coldly. 

Gwyn was quite sure that once Rhys’ team had a hold of Beron he would not be long for this world. 

—

After fleshing out a few more details both with and without Eris, Rhys allowed them both to take the rest of the day off to make their respective preparations. Probably, he too was sensing the dark mood Azriel was in and knew he’d be of little use to him in such a state. They made a show of avoiding each other as they left Rhys’ office and left the building separately. Gwyn made a quick run by her apartment where, sure enough, a hideously revealing (and hideously expensive) red dress had been delivered about an hour before, and packing a small bag of items she’d need for the night.

Knowing Azriel as she did, she knew he’d likely have her up half the night, most likely on her knees, and planned accordingly. By the time she finally circled around to his apartment, she had refreshed her hair and makeup and was wearing his favorite lingerie- a strappy number made of black leather, sans underwear since Azriel had a tendency to rip off any she wore (and honestly, given the ungodly prices companies charge for a four inch scrap of fabric, it was an annoying habit). As expected, he was already waiting for her on the couch, knees spread wide as he slumped against the leather and his shirt was already half unbuttoned. 

Without a word, Gwyn dropped her shoes, bag and coat at the door, silently padding over to him and dropping to her knees at his feet. His gaze followed her the entire way, hazel eyes drinking her in from head to toe. She leaned forward, resting her head against his thigh and was rewarded with the back of his fingers skimming over her cheek. She leaned into the touch.

“Are you up for playing tonight, Angel,” he asked, just as he did every time they played like this. Azriel was always naturally dominant in the bedroom but, during those times he craved more than a rough and dirty fuck, he always checked in with her first to make sure she could handle it. 

Gwyn nodded and Azriel’s fingers curled around her chin, his thumb pulling her lips apart. “Use your words, Angel.”

“Yes, sir,” she purred softly, sucking his thumb into her mouth. He made a little sound of approval, his eyes riveted to the smear of lipstick she left on his skin. 

“Hmm. What shall I do with you tonight?” he mused.

“What do you need?” She wouldn’t play the part of his brat until she knew what he needed from her, and how she needed to pace herself and push his buttons.

He thought about it for a moment, studying her. “Can I have your ass?”

She winced. “Not tonight.”

Nodding slowly, he rubbed his thumb over her lower lip again, smudging the deep red over her pale skin. When he was in moods like this, she made sure her makeup was easy to take off as he enjoyed making a mess of her. She could already tell she’d been washing mascara and lipstick off her cheeks later tonight. 

“Your mouth then?” She gave her consent and his hand slipped around her neck. “Throat?”

“Yes,” she breathed, already anticipating. Azriel was not a selfish lover. For every orgasm she gave him, he returned the favor in triplicate.

Groaning softly, Azriel leaned down to kiss her, pushing his tongue between her lips to dance with hers for a long moment. “Wait here,” he instructed, disappearing into his bedroom. 

She waited as instructed, taking the moment alone to prepare herself. Even though she knew she would end the night very happy, she also knew he would make her work hard for it. By the time he returned with a handful of black objects, she had focused her mind and relaxed her body. 

Taking up his previous position once more, Azriel hooked a thin collar around her neck and soft, cushioned cuffs around her wrists, linked together in front of her body. Tugging gently on the ring of the collar, he pulled her up to lay across his lap, his fingers prodding softly at her already soaked pussy before inserting a toy that rested against both her clit and her gspot when fully inside her before guiding her back to her knees. He picked up his phone, fiddling with something on the screen for a moment. Gwyn gasped and straightened when rather intense vibrations suddenly shot through her before dulling to a low, steady rhythm designed to keep her on edge. 

Azriel smirked. “Ready?”

When she nodded, his palm smacked lightly against her cheek a few times. “Words, Gwyn.”

“Yes, sir,” she panted.

“Good girl,” he crooned. Leaning back, he draped his arms lazy across the back of the couch and said, “Take my cock out.”

She did as told, reaching forward to unbuckle his belt and unzip his pants, pushing fabric aside to reveal his hard, pierced length, her movements a bit hampered by the cuffs. She licked her lips, remembering how the studs feel sliding against her tongue and leaned forward to lick along his shaft, flicking her tongue over each piercing. 

Hissing a breath, Azriel quickly gripped her hair to pull her away from him, fisting his cock so the tip hovered in front of her. “I don’t have the patience for you to play with my cock tonight, brat. I need you to suck it. Are you going to be a good girl for me?”

“Yes, sir,” she said in a simpering voice, grinning at him. He growled softly, smacking his cock against her lips before pushing himself between them until she gagged. He guided her for a moment, showing her exactly what he wanted from her before releasing her to continue on her own. 

A few minutes later, after idly playing with the vibration controls while she obediently sucked his cock until she was so close to cumming she thought she might burst, Azriel again grabbed her hair and pulled her off of him, dropping the vibrations so low they were almost nonexistent. She whimpered at the loss. 

“Up,” he commanded, helping her to her feet. Standing with her, he turned her towards the bedroom with a sharp slap of her ass. “On the bed, on your back.”

Scurrying to the bedroom, she climbed onto his massive bed, scooting her body around until she lay on her back, her head hanging off the edge like she knew he wanted. Aching for release, she began to reach for her clit when Azriel stopped her with a soft tsk. “Do not touch yourself,” he ordered. “You come when I say you do. And tonight, you’re not coming before me.”

She pouted, though he ignored her as she watched him retrieve another item from his box of toys. Returning to her, he wasted no time pushing himself back into her mouth, this time pushing down her throat as well, until he was fully buried. Closing her eyes, Gwyn focused on her breathing to control the urge to gag, as she felt two sharp pinches on her nipples where Azriel attached weighted clamps. Fuck, he was really testing her tonight.

Taking her hands and holding them against her chest between her breasts so she couldn’t reach for her clit again, he began to fuck her mouth. His movements were slow, rocking slightly when he bottomed out and she knew he was watching the way his cock stretched her throat with each thrust. He began playing with the vibration controls once more and in no time, she was a sobbing, moaning mess as he brought her to the edge over and over before finally spilling himself down her throat.

She actually did sob when he pulled out of her mouth and turned off the vibrator, pulling it out of her as well and tossing it aside. Before she could complain, however, Azriel had spun her around so her legs hung off the bed and thrust his still hard cock into her throbbing pussy, pinning her to the mattress by her throat. She came as soon as she felt the glide of his piercings inside her, her scream hoarse from the rough treatment of her throat.

He fucked her hard through a second and third orgasm before he came again and finally let her go. “Fuck,” he groaned, cupping her face and rubbing his thumbs through her ruined makeup. “Such a good girl, my angel,” he praised, kissing her languidly. 

She lay boneless on the edge of the mattress, sated and exhausted and let him tend to her as he unhooked her restraints, stripped her down and gently cleaned her up before tucking her into bed with him. “Better?” she whispered as his body wrapped around hers. 

“Better,” he agreed, cuddling her against his chest and kissing her cheek.

For a long moment, there was no sound but their soft breathing before Azriel said quietly, “we’ll tell him after this mission if finished. Rhys and the others.”

Gwyn’s breath caught. Just that morning they had been discussing the possibility of telling their friends, contemplating both the idea of no longer having to hide their relationship and the potential consequences if they made it known. 

“I’ll deal with Rhys- we’ll deal with it together. If they want to separate us and not let us work together anymore…. We’ll make it work… I- I want them to know. I don’t want to pretend you mean nothing to me anymore…”

Gwyn felt tears prick the corners of her eyes as much at the idea of being removed from him as for the words he did not say. I love you too, she thought silently, tightening her grip on his arms that were wrapped around her and turned her face slightly to kiss the arm braced under her. 

Nothing else was said as they quietly drifted off to sleep. 

—

Checking her lipstick one last time, Gwyn snapped her compact shut and stuffed it back into her bag as the car pulled up to the red carpet that had been set up outside of the museum. There wasn’t a ton of press as the most prominent guests tonight were just the local business owners, for which Gwyn was very grateful. She was always careful to avoid having her picture taken in public in case she accidentally blew one of her covers. 

Eris, who had been silent the entire ride since picking her up, luckily seemed to understand this as he exited the car and strategically positioned himself to shield her from view as he helped her out of the vehicle and strode straight to the door without stopping for a single photo. Inside the lobby, they had to wait in a short line as tickets were checked and she took a moment to readjust her dress. 

She’d decided to play it safe and wear the damned dress Beron had sent over, figuring showing up on his son’s arm would piss him off enough. It barely covered her breasts as it plunged low in the front and exposed her entire back, with slits clear up her thigh that made it very hard to successfully hide many weapons on her, though she still managed to strap one of her favorite small knives on the inside of her thigh. 

Beside her, Eris watched her with a bored expression as she ensured her breasts wouldn’t spill out of her top. “Finished?” he drawled when she’d stopped fidgeting. 

Her answer was a silent scowl. 

“I’m inside,” Azriel’s voice murmured through the discreet earpiece hidden behind her hair.

“Us too,” Gwyn said without moving her lips. 

Once their names had been verified, Gwyn took Eris’ proffered arm, pasting a smile on her face as they entered the gallery hall where the gala was being hosted. Her eyes scanned the room for Beron, spotting him in the far corner, his wife on his arm, as he spoke with a councilman, while her expression remained open and curious as though she were being awed by her surroundings and not searching for someone.. 

“I have visual on you,” Azriel confirmed as they moved sedately through the room, greeting various acquaintance of Eris who introduced her as his father’s “right hand woman”, and she played along smiling brightly at each person she met, all of whose names and faces were familiar to her either from previous events or research for cases. 

She clocked the moment Beron spotted her at the same time Azriel did, murmuring as much into her ear. She quietly informed Eris and they stepped up their performance, for Beron’s sake.

Once she’d been paraded around nearly the entire room, Eris seemed to recognize his father’s patience was near its breaking point and he left her at one of the tables scattered throughout the space, ostensibly to fetch her a drink. He hadn’t been gone thirty seconds before a hand latched roughly onto her arm and Beron was hauling her through the nearest exit into one of the exhibit rooms, just as they planned.

Azriel confirmed he’d seen her leave and suddenly she was on her own. 

The way Gwyn stumbled as Beron swung her around in front of him, slamming her into a wall wasn’t entirely feigned. He was a lot stronger than he looked and her heels were just a little bit too tall. Luckily, she’d worn a pair that could be easily discarded if she needed to run and she braced herself to do just that as he boxed her in against the wall, his face full of cold fury. 

“Did you enjoy showing up tonight in the dress I bought, with the ticket I paid for, while on my miserable son’s arm?” he sneered, not even trying to hide the way he attempted to visually undress her. Gwyn swallowed her gag and stuttered incoherently, as though she were scared of him. 

Cool fingers brushed along the exposed skin between her breasts as he leaned close enough for her to almost taste his whiskey heavy breath. “Have you fucked him yet? Or were you fucking him this whole time while teasing me? Hedging your bets against the bigger prey?”

She refrained from scoffing at the idea that he was possibly a better catch than his much younger son and shook her head vehemently, allowing her eyes to turn glassy and her lip to tremble. “No!” she protested. “No, I swear, I didn’t- I didn’t do anything with E-Eris. He- he just asked to give me a ride. I didn’t know-”

She broke off with a whimper and a heavy flinch as Beron slammed his fist against the wall beside her head. “Don’t lie to me!” he roared.

Cringing back against the wall, Gwyn lowered her eyes from his gaze as she continued to play the trembling fawn he wanted to see. His tone immediately softened. “I’m sorry, forgive me,” he said smoothly. “I didn’t mean to frighten you…”

A glass of champagne appeared in his hand, seemingly out of nowhere. “Here, sweetheart. Have a drink to calm yourself down.”

Gwyn took the glass with trembling fingers and held it up to her lips without actually swallowing anything. She wasn’t stupid enough to trust anything he gave her. Unfortunately, that did not mean she was smart…

Cold fingers once again brushed over her skin, this time along her neck before she felt a sharp pinch that made her gasp as heat flooded her veins from the spot. Fuck. He had a fucking syringe! How had she missed it?

She immediately dropped the glass of champagne, letting it shatter at her feet as she lashed out but whatever he’d given her worked fast. Her movements were already turning sluggish and it took no effort at all for him to catch her wrists and trap them against the wall above her head. 

Gwyn’s entire body went numb as he began checking her over for weapons in the few places she could have hidden them with a cool efficiency that scared her a little. She tried to call out, to warn Azriel what was happening, even though it would have blown her cover more than it already seemed to be but she couldn’t make her mouth move. Her tongue felt swollen and heavy and it was starting to get a bit difficult to breathe, especially as the strength in her legs finally gave up and her body collapsed, the only thing holding her upright was her hands still pinned against the wall overhead. 

Beron’s hands took far too many liberties as he stripped the dagger off her thigh and tossed it aside- not that she could feel much anymore as the drug pumped through her system. When he was apparently satisfied she’d been disarmed, Beron’s arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her limp body against him. Thankfully she was too numb now to feel the erection she was sure now pressed against her hip. She fought a gag as horror ripped through her mind that she desperately tried to wrestle into submission enough for her to think.

Azriel had seen her come in here with Beron. Depending on where Rhys’ team had been set up initially, it could take a few minutes to get them in position to storm this particular room, but there was still enough time for Beron to do so many terrible things to her before they did, especially now that she couldn’t fight back. 

All she could do now was pray that Azriel was paying attention to the fact that her end had gone silent for a few minutes now and recognized something was wrong. 

She almost fainted in relief when she heard footsteps approaching before realizing it was more than one set, but not enough to be Rhys’ team. She couldn’t turn her head to see what was coming but she heard a deep voice murmur “boss”, before something heavy and suffocating was thrown over her head and she lost the battle to remain conscious. 

[zapreportsblog]

❝hydra prized creation❞

✭ pairing : various x reader

✭ fandom : avengers

✭ summary : Hydra created a mastermind unlike none other with intellects only the greatest individuals could possess they combined that with their new advanced version of the super solider serum, and thus a ghost was born.

✭ authors note : I’ve noticed that I’ve been doing lots of requests and haven’t had time to update some of the series I’ve always posted on here so here part 9 of this story

✭ chapter 9 : the chase

✭ hydra prized creation masterlist

Life had taken a turn for the better for (Y/N) in the months since she had found refuge within New York. She had managed to keep a steady job at a the cafe, where her warm smile and friendly demeanor had quickly made her a favorite among the regulars. Despite the newfound sense of safety, the shadow of her past still loomed over her, leaving her perpetually wary.

One sunny afternoon, (Y/N) left work early since the owner had left early due to a family emergency, and so she had began the walk back to her apartment. The bustling city streets were alive with activity, yet an uneasiness still clung to her. She felt eyes on her, an unnerving sensation that had become all too familiar. The paranoia was a constant reminder of the hold Hydra had once had on her.

As she quickened her pace, the footsteps behind her seemed to match hers. Panic surged through her veins, and she broke into a run, heart pounding in her chest. The footsteps persisted, echoing in her ears like a haunting melody. She glanced over her shoulder, the fear driving her forward.

"Wait! Hold on!" a voice called out from behind her.

But (Y/N)'s mind was gripped by the thought of Hydra agents pursuing her once again. She didn't slow down, her heart racing, until strong hands gently grabbed her shoulders, halting her escape.

As she turned to scream, her eyes widened, and her voice caught in her throat. Before her stood a man, his blue eyes filled with concern. Recognition struck her like a bolt of lightning—Steve Rogers, the one they called Captain America.

"I'm so sorry if I scared you," Steve said, his voice sincere. "You dropped these." He held out a pair of headphones, a sheepish smile on his lips.

(Y/N)'s heart was still racing, her panic slowly subsiding as reality sunk in. She took the headphones, her face flushed with embarrassment. "I thought... I thought you were someone else."

Steve's expression softened. "I can imagine. I shouldn't have approached you like that."

She nodded, her cheeks burning. "It's okay… I'm still a bit jumpy I guess.”

"I understand," Steve replied, his voice gentle. "I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."

(Y/N) offered a small smile, her nerves beginning to settle. "Thank you for returning these. And, um, sorry for running away like that."

Steve chuckled softly. "No need to apologize. I should have been more careful."

As they stood on the bustling sidewalk, (Y/N)'s tension continued to ease. The presence of someone like Steve, a symbol of hope and protection, had a way of comforting her. She glanced down at the headphones in her hand and then back at him.

"I appreciate it, really," she said, her voice sincere. "And sorry for... well, overreacting."

Steve's smile was warm and understanding. "No harm done. Just glad everything's okay."

With a nod and a shy smile, (Y/N) turned to continue her walk back home. As she walked away, she couldn't help but feel a sense of relief—relief that not everyone was a threat.

(Y/N)'s heart was still racing from the encounter, but a newfound sense of calm settled over her as she realized she wasn’t in any real danger. The sun was beginning to set, casting a warm, golden glow over the city streets.

As she approached her small apartment building, a thought crossed her mind. She had been so taken aback by the encounter that she hadn't properly thanked Steve for returning her headphones. With a newfound sense of determination, she decided to extend an invitation.

"Um, excuse me," she said, turning to face Steve, who was walking a few paces behind her just about to leave and head off most likely towards his own home.

He smiled warmly. "Yes?"

"I know it's a bit sudden, but would you like to come over to my place? I'd like to show my appreciation for, you know, returning my headphones."

Steve's blue eyes twinkled with amusement. "You don't have to do that. But if you're sure..."

(Y/N) nodded, a shy smile on her lips. "I am. It's the least I can do."

With a nod, Steve agreed, and they continued their walk to her apartment building. Once they arrived, (Y/N) led him up the flights of stairs to her small unit. She unlocked the door and gestured for him to enter.

As Steve stepped inside, he looked around the modest space. The apartment was sparsely furnished, with a few basic pieces of furniture and little decoration. His gaze caught a glimpse of the almost empty shelves, and his curiosity got the better of him.

"It looks like you've just moved in," Steve commented, his voice gentle.

(Y/N) followed his gaze, a hint of embarrassment coloring her cheeks. "Yeah, I have. I've been saving up for things to fill the place, but it's been a slow process."

Steve turned to her, his expression sympathetic. "I didn't mean to pry."

She smiled, trying to hide her self-consciousness. "It's okay. I'm just glad I have a roof over my head."

As they stood in the small living room, (Y/N) couldn't help but notice Steve's eyes lingering on the lack of furnishings. She cleared her throat, feeling the need to explain.

"I promise, it's not always this bare," she said with a light laugh. "I'm working on making it feel more like home."

Steve's smile was understanding. "I think it already feels cozy."

(Y/N) felt a warmth spread through her at his words. It was strange, having someone in her space, but Steve's presence felt oddly comforting. She led him to the small kitchen area and offered him a seat.

"Can I get you anything to drink?" she asked.

"Just water is fine, thanks," he replied.

As she fetched glasses of water, she couldn't help but think about how unexpected this turn of events was. She had invited Steve over out of gratitude, but now she found herself hoping that the evening would be a chance to get to know him better.

As they sat and chatted about their respective experiences, (Y/N) felt a growing sense of connection. Steve's presence was easygoing, and he shared stories from his past that made her feel like she wasn't alone in her struggles. The apartment, once bare and empty, began to feel warmer with each passing moment.

As the evening drew to a close, (Y/N) couldn't help but feel grateful for the chance encounter and the unexpected friendship that had blossomed from it. With a smile, she looked at Steve and said, "Thank you for coming over, Steve. You didn’t have too but I appreciate it.”

His smile was genuine, his eyes warm. "It was my pleasure. I'm glad I could help."

As Steve left her apartment that night, (Y/N) felt a newfound sense of hope. Though her past had been filled with darkness and uncertainty, the presence of someone like Steve Rogers reminded her that there were good people in the world—people willing to extend a hand of kindness, and perhaps even become a part of the brighter future she was working toward.

[slothgiirl]

a rose by any other name epilogue

reader x druig.

New York. North Dakota. 2024.

You had never been to New York before. Not in this life, or any other. You weren’t sure this counted either.

Seeing a city from the airport cab ride to Doctor Strange’s place in the city seemed like cheating. You’d seen the famous skyline, but hadn’t step foor anywhere.

“Is there some superhero directory I’m not aware of,” you ask Druig, craning your neck. You were pretty sure that was central park, gone in a flash.

“Sanctums are quite stationary,” he shrugs, licking ketchup off his fingers. You thought airport hotdogs were a bag idea. “This one’d been around since the 1700s. When it was New Amsterdam.” 

“Wasn’t Hong Kong closer?”

Druig shakes his head, “we need someone. . .flexible about all those rules they made about the mystic arts.”

“Two thousand years and it never occured to you until now,” you ask him, slouching into the seat. The world was still intact. The news hasn’t stopped reporting on the new chain of islands in the indian ocean that look like fingers. 

Tiamut was neither alive or dead in some weird cosmic energy thing you didn’t understand. 

Druig looks over at you sheepishly, “I had other things on my mind.” His gaze flickers down to your chest.

It’s probably the whole averted apocalypse that has you in such an indulgent mood; you lean you head against his shoulder and smack his chest lightly.

“Careful my lady,” he says sounding terribly smug, “Ikaris did attempt to murder me.”

“I guess I’ll have to finish the job,” you rest your hand against his chest, feeling his ribcage move as he breathes. He wasn’t fine. 

Druig was careful to keep weight off his left foot. 

Phastos had given him the all clear which didn’t make you feel much better. Not when two of them had died in the span of days. 

Phastos had left quickly, unable to be away from his family for any longer. 

“Oh, is that how it’s gonna be,” he laughs.

“I guess I could let it slide,” you meet his gaze, feeling immense relief all over again, “you did just save the world.”

Druig tips his chin up, looking full of himself. 

There was a lightness to him that you’d missed, a playfulness that was so characteristic of your Eternal lover. Your eyes rover over his features that you knew so well. The scar on his cheekbone, near the outer corner of his eyes, had not faded at all. The way his brilliant blue eyes crinkled with easy smiles and how his laugh filled a room. 

He was there. Alive. You were both alive. 

So many lives and you continued to be enamoured of him. It never got old, being in love, making a home with him. Anyplace, anytime. 

There were tears in your eyes.

Again.

All you’d done this week was cry.

“I did,” he nods, pressing his lips against your hair. “Though if you hear Phastos tell it-”

“Yeah,” you clutch the fabric of his shirt. 

Sensing your somber mood, Druig wraps his arms around you. “I’m right here, love.” He tucks your head under his chin, “‘S alright.”

“When the plane started to shake,” you say quietly, “I thought that was it-�� It was over. The world ending with you in a private plane. 

There had been so many close calls.

“The world’s always ending,” you mutter, breathing in his scent. You understood Lizzy, finally. 

It was never over. Earth was still in trouble after Thanos.

Captain Marvel had her hands full with the rest of the universe.

“Is this what being part of the universe is like?” Always being scared some empire would come in and take over, being invaded, some asshole destroying your planet for no reason. You didn’t want to sit by and hope for the best. You couldn’t.

It would drive you mad.

“I-,” he frowns. “Well, I wouldn’t really know. Don’t remember anything but Earth.”

“All those planets-” you shift your gaze out the window as the cab pulls to a stop. What about the planets where Arishem got their way? 

“I know.” 

Druig’s expression grows weary. It was the same way he’d looked when Ajak had forbidden them from aiding the Mexica from smallpox and the genocide on the horizon. He wasn’t going to let this go.

You pay for the cab. 

The sanctum is an unassuming building. The plaque is the only way you know you’re in the right place. 

You're surprised there's no awards for saving half the universe. No Avengers insignia for Doctor Strange. 

Druig holds your hand.

“This isn’t some. . .” you pause, “He can help right?” You didn’t understand much of anything when it came to magic. 

“If not,” his eyes glow. “I can always. . .”

It’s comforting. 

“Okay.” You nod.

The world was still spinning. There was nothing else you could do but go for it. 

Dr. Strange seemed the type to break whatever rules suited him, very Iron Man-esque who thought he was above the Sokovia Accords. Right? You try not to think to hard about Ultron. About ashes and world heritage sites getting destroyed by the latest threat. The London Eye was still closed. 

You breathe.

And knock against the door.

It swings open.

You aren’t sure what to expect as you step through: cauldrons and black witches hats covered in dust and cobwebs. The last sanctum had been ordinary for it’s time, filled with students and ancient sayings in calligraphy hanging on the walls. That isn’t New York either. It lacks the faux orientalism prevalent in Europe circa the 1800s. 

No, the New York sanctum feels like a rundown hotel that’s decades past its prime but no less grand for it. There’s tasteful tables with relics you imagine are just as magical as Phastos inventions. 

You peer around the grand staircase, expecting to see someone. “Hello?” You don’t have to check to know Druig’s a step behind you. His presence is an anchor as you venture further into the sanctum. 

There were no students. 

It feels abandoned compared with Hong Kong. 

Your chest tightens at the thought of the sleepy fishing village. Hong Kong was nothing like that now. There was a certain pain that came with knowing the world was transformed each time you lived. You thought of street food vendors whose names only you knew. 

All that history you carried with you. The faces of people you’d loved. The memories of books that had not survived. 

You press your tongue to the roof of your mouth. 

In your mind’s eye, the ashes of the Snap were the same as the smoke of Tenochtitlan burning. 

Druig sets his hands on your shoulders, “do you think they have an Instagram we can message?”

“Ha, very funny,” Dr. Strange walks in from a corridor, looking over his shoulder like a teenager sneaking out of the house, “do you mind if we move this into the laundry room. Don’t want Wong to interrupt us,” he says even as he leads the way.

“You were expecting us. . .Dr. Strange,” you state aloud looking for confirmation. It was a parlour trick for these sorcerers. 

“Yes and no.” He whips his head, turning to you as he opens a door, “and please call me Stephan. Dr. Strange is grandiose even by my standards.”

“And the discount Jedi robes aren’t,” Druig says cocking his brows. 

You elbow him, “look who’s talking.”

“My lady,” he holds his hand against his chest in mock offence.

You roll your eyes at him. 

Stephan looks on, amused. “I foresaw the high possibility that you’d stop here. . .it the world wasn’t destroyed, if you both survived, if you chose to leave. There’s so many factors. A background in statistics is useful in the mystic arts.”

“Well that’s no fun.” You’d been hoping for less maths and more wand waving. In the news, it seemed so easy, just a wave of his hands and-TA DA. 

“And neither is reincarnating,” Stephan snarks back, taking a seat on a laundry basket full of either robes or linens. 

You purse your lips. “It’s not ideal. But not awful.” You never really remembered dying unless it was awful. That hadn’t happened in a while. No, it was more like being homesick for a time and place that didn’t exist but people struggled with that all the time. People moved so often in this century: never knowing when they’d go back home. 

And that wasn’t even touching on displaced people. Millions of Sokovian refugees. . .

“So you're not here to get that fixed?” Stephan asks pointedly. 

He must’ve decided to become a doctor by watching House M.D. Copied the whole schtick off there. 

“I thought it couldn’t be. . .changed.” You frown, crossing your arms over your chest. You wish you could google this magic stuff. You didn’t like being so badly informed. 

“No. The spell you cast can’t be modified,” Stephan agrees, “I’d have to break it and create a new one. Though granting any type of immortality is a big no-no in the mystic arts.”

“Which is why we’re hiding,” Druig infers.

Stephan Strange frowns ruefully, “I’m not Sorcerer Supreme anymore or it’d be my call. I still-I’m still going to help.”

“Right?” 

“Earth needs all the allies it can get.”

“So not out of the kindness of your heart,” you surmise, feeling like a pawn. You’d never liked how Ikaris and Ajak had made you feel like a tag along. Like Druig’s human pet. It left a bad taste in your mouth. 

“You don’t think you’ve lived long enough?”

And wasn’t that also true. You’d been lucky to witness so much. History and people and spend it with the man you loved, your soulmate, not just once but over and over. It was far longer than most people got. You’d told Druig something similar once. 

What made you so special you deserved an exception?

“Oi,” Druig stiffens. 

But this wasn’t his call. This wasn’t about him. Not really. 

This was about you. You who was just another human having an unusual conversation with a peer. Often, you’d be the token human in the Eternals conversation and no matter how long you’d lived there was still something unique about the human experience that you could relate to Stephan Strange in a way that Druig and Sersi would never understand. 

(You’d talk about this with Sprite one day.)

“I think I’ve been very lucky,” you acknowledge. “But all I want is this life. For however long that is. I think I’ve done enough reincarnating, y’know.” It had all been a cosmic accident you didn’t even remember creating. Had you been trying to save yourself and the magic came out like this? Had you meant to create another spell? 

These memories were lost to you now. And they didn’t matter. 

You were done with living again and again. You didn’t want to forget and remember and forget again. You wanted to hold onto all of you, your memories and thoughts and your muchness as it was right now in this moment and die knowing that was the end. Just like everyone else. (You were curious about what came after, if anything.)

“Okay,” Stephan smiles kindly. “I’ll help you. But- this’ll be it. No second chances. No next time. No do overs. You’ll be frozen in time. You’ll still have your magic, but you won’t age. You couldn’t ever have children. You’ll still be just as breakable as me and every other sucker in New York.”

“Alright.” You nod.

“You sure? I can always just break the spell.”

“I’m sure.” 

He nods. “Well then, try and stand still. I need to concentrate.” Dr. Strange waves his hands in cyclical movements. 

It’s like a buzz under you skin. Something’s happening, but it’s too foreign for you to understand what. The small cramped room fills with light. 

You shut your eyes and count, steadying your breath. This was it. 

By this time tomorrow you’d be in space. 

It was crazy when you thought about it. No less crazy than Thanos and New York and falling in love with an alien. 

1. 2. 3. 

Deep breath. 

***

Makkari waves her pointer finger in a circular motion, the most universal hand gesture for spin around. 

You indulge her, “you’re acting like I grew another head or something.”

The speedster smiles, I am glad you are coming with us. 

You grin, “you’re only saying that so I help you with your eReader. Or did you splurge on an Ipad? Wait, you probably stole it.”

Looking awfully mischievous, Makkari holds her finger to her lips, hush now. Didn’t happen if there’s no witnesses.

You laugh, figuring there were worse crimes than stealing from the Apple Store. 

The Domo floated above head. Thena was all packed up and ready to go. You’d said your goodbyes to Sersi, Kingo, and Sprite days ago. 

Now it was just about leaving. Leaving this green and blue rock you called home. 

You bite your bottom lip. It had been hard packing up, mostly because you didn’t know when you’d be back. Clothes, essentials, a magic book from Dr. Strange. Saying your goodbyes hurt the most. 

What would Sprite look like at twenty? You were so used to her as an adolescent. Your siblings. . .

“We don’t have to go.” Druig reaches for your hand. “We can stay if you wish, my lady.”

North Dakota was gloomy today. 

“I want to.” That was true. You also felt bittersweet at leaving this planet. “I want to see the stars. Find the other Eternals.” You meet his startling blue eyes, cupping his cheek. “I want to do all of it with you.” 

He rests his forehead against yours. “I love you.”

“I know,” you nod, “just, give me a moment.” You squeeze his hand, before slowly heading towards Thena. You take your time, gazing over the landscape. The grass was brown and dead for the season. You're pretty sure it’s going to rain tonight. 

It was frightening to say goodbye to everything you knew. It was frightening to begin a new chapter after so long. There’s security in the known, in the constant, and now that is gone. But you were ready for it. You were ready to begin a new chapter. You weren’t in this alone. You had Thena and Makkari, and the man you loved and that was all you really needed. The people you loved. 

You look over your shoulder, watching as Druig hugs Phastos, ready to explore the stars.

notes: bookendings with makkari and druig at the end just like how the first chapter was makkari and druig mainly. im making up that dr strange timelooped reader’s physical body so shes frozen in time. idk. idk. he’s also like yeah mb this is important to the cosmos the way he connected the dots that tony start needed to live to defeat thanos. either way druig and reader get to have lots of sex on the domo after saving the world and thena forces makkari to organize her piles of stolen things. mb reader learns to use magic and starts being able to hold her own in a fight.

[jiminthestreets-bonesinthesheets]

Love Beyond the Black - CH2

Fandom: Ateez Rating: Mature Pairing: Jung Wooyoung/Choi San, with a little bit of Kim Hongjoong/Park Seonghwa sprinkled in AO3 Masterlist

Summary: Wooyoung is the son of a merchant sailor for the King, one of his best. He is coming of age to prepare to take his fathers place as the captain, and so his father takes him on his first sail. After nearly facing death in a raging storm at sea, Wooyoung and his father make port at their destination. Not long after their arrival Wooyoung finds a boy washed up on sea, still alive, and the most gorgeous thing he has ever laid his eyes on. He is instantly entranced by him, taken by this boy with no memory of where he came from or why he had been washed up on shore. Wooyoung couldn't have cared any less about the unanswered questions, but how will he feel when he finds out the boy he has so very quickly fallen in love with turns out to be one of the most revered pirates to have ever sailed the seas?

A/N and Warnings: I added them to the bottom of the post, just because it's a bit long, so if you'd like to see the warnings just head to the bottom :)

*** MY WORK IS NOT TO BE POSTED ON ANY OTHER SITE WITHOUT MY EXPRESS WRITTEN PERMISSION. THOUGH REBLOGS AND COMMENTS ARE SUPER LOVED AND APPRECIATED! THANKS FAM!***

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter Two

     Land. Wooyoung had never been so glad in his life to have his feet firmly planted on the solid and unwavering wood of the docks. His legs were still a little shaky, and though it had been over a week since they had sailed out of the storm, it still had him by its clutches. He had barely slept since they managed to sail the ship out of it, every time he closed his eyes he saw that wave above him, ready to crash down and end his life, felt the side of the ship colliding with his back as he was washed toward the side and just barely managed to grab the railing and keep himself on the ship. He felt the jerking of the ship, the cold mist of the waves, the endless rain pounding into his skin. He heard the screams of the crew being pulled off the sides of the ship, the shouts of others trying to get to them even though they all knew it was pointless. The endless sea sickness had been annoying, but he would gladly take that over this feeling of looming death any day. 

     While he was still a trembling mess, his father was as collected as ever. Wooyoung was sure this wasn't the first of like circumstances that his father had faced, or the first crew members he had lost, but it was yet another reason Wooyoung knew that being a merchant sailor was not the job for him. Not only did the storm still haunted him and would continue to haunt him for some time to come, but losing crew members so suddenly, people he had just started to become close with during their time at sea, some of which had known him since he was just a boy, it was too much for him to handle. He did not want to have the lives of so many people at the tips of his fingers. And still, after all of that, they had two more weeks of sailing left before he could get home and convince his father to let him choose another path.

     He watched his father from where he stood on the dock, leaning heavily against one of the posts to steady his still swaying legs. He was in the middle of the dock, a new parchment in hand that had been given to him by Nero's dock master, checking and re-checking everything that the remaining crew unloaded from the ship. 

     The intricately carved box was unloaded last and handed directly to a man dressed in the most expensive looking fabrics and colours. He placed it immediately into a waiting carriage, surrounded by men in armour and armed with swords and shields, and once the door of the carriage was closed and locked the man turned back to his father. 

     “The King thanks you for your service.” He held his hand out to shake Wooyoung's fathers, both of them bowing into it. “He is also aware that you sustained great damages to your ship during your travels, the storm that you sailed through also hit us hard as well. He has set up rooms for you and all of your crew at the best inn our kingdom has to offer, as well as arranged for his own personal crew to make the necessary repairs to your ship. Once you are all ready I will have someone escort you to the inn, and you are all welcome to stay as long as you should like.”

     His father nodded his thanks to the man, then turned back to seek him out. “Wooyoung! Get whatever you will need from the ship, we will be heading into town to stay for a while… Wooyoung?”

     Wooyoung's eyes had long since wandered from his father and the king's man, and drifted off down the shore to where a rather unusual grouping of seaweed caught his eye along the shore. It was a large clump, mixed in with splintered debris that had been blown into shore by the storm, but there was something else about it that seemed odd. That being an overly large buildup in the middle that caught his attention and wouldn't let go.

     His curiosity got the better of him, and despite his father calling for him in the background, he ignored it and jumped off the dock anyway. He walked unevenly across the loose sand, his eyes never leaving the mess being rocked gently by the waves against the shore. When he was just a few steps away he was finally able to see what it was, and his feet picked up on their own and he was now running across the sand. He slid on his knees to the pile and his hand made quick work of moving the tangled seaweed and debris. His hands clasped the torn shirt of the man limply clinging to the broken piece of wood beneath him, and flipped him onto his back. For a moment Wooyoung was struck, unable to move as he peered down at the gorgeous man before him, he had never in his life seen another more beautiful, more angelic than he. If he hadn't known any better he would have thought this man to be one of the merpeople the sailors had warned him about, the ones that would lure you in with their beauty only to happily drown you in the open waters. Had he been one, he would have gladly jumped off the edge of the ship for him and drowned with lust in his eyes, he wouldn't have been able to resist.

     The man suddenly coughed, his head turning to the side and choking out a mouth full of water against Wooyoung's knees, and he finally snapped out of it. He looked back over his shoulder and shouted to his father, “He's alive! He needs help!” Then he turned back to the man and cradled his head in his hands. 

     As soon as his fingers touched the man's smooth skin he instantly calmed. His coughing stopped and he settled with Wooyoung's fingers running gently through his sand infused hair. Wooyoung could hear the hurried steps of the crew running to help the man, but he kept his focus on him, leaning down slightly to whisper. “You're alright, I've got you. I've got you.”

~~~~~~~~~~~

     For the first time in days the man felt warm, and comfortable. It was a nice change from consistently wet and shivering, though he couldn't for the life of him remember why he had felt either of those things so harshly, nor did he know why there was a sudden change. 

     A warm light was filtering in from somewhere and casting over his face and arms like a blanket, much like the one he felt between his fingers when he flexed his hands. He hadn't a clue where he was, but he was sure it couldn't be anywhere bad. 

     He tested his eyes and slowly opened them, curious as to see where he had ended up, and when his eyes opened enough and the realization hit him, he was less upset about it then he thought he would have been.

     "An angel," he managed to force out through his dry, scratchy throat, reaching out to the form before him bathed in a golden glow that made him look as ethereal as he had imagined. 

     Wooyoung, who had spent the better part of the last two days at the man's bedside, running warm cloths over his frigid skin, stopped the man's hand and placed it back over his stomach. "What?" 

     San rolled his head to get a better look at Wooyoung through his still mostly closed eyes, and repeated, "You're an angel. That means I must be dead."

     Wooyoung chuckled, even blushed a bit as he continued his work with the cloth to distract himself. "What makes you think I'm an angel?"

     "You're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen," he answered as if it should have been obvious.

     Wooyoung's blush only got deeper as the man continued his compliments. "That's very flattering, but I'm not an angel, and you’re not dead."

     "Then where am I?"

     "You're in the kingdom of Nero, do you know it?" The man thought for a moment, then shook his head. "I found you washed up on the beach after a sail with my father, he's a merchant sailor and we had a shipment to deliver here. Do you know how you ended up here?"

     Again the man shook his head, he couldn't remember anything.

     "What about your name? Do you remember that?"

     "San," he nodded, and opened his eyes a bit wider, getting a full glimpse of Wooyoung sitting beside his bed. Though he may have still been a bit delirious, he hadn't been wrong when he thought Wooyoung had been an angel or the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. "My name is Choi San, but that's all I know."

     "That's alright." Wooyoung smiled at him and it nearly took San’s breath away, and certainly had him speechless. "At least you know your name, so that's a step in the right direction. We’ll figure out the rest later, the most important thing is that you're alive."

     "And your name?" San asked, and again Wooyoung stopped running the cloth over his skin. "What is the name of the angel who saved me?"

     This time Wooyoung knew there was no hiding the blush, San definitely saw it creep up his neck and land in his cheeks. "I told you, I'm not an angel, and my name is Jung Wooyoung."

     "Nice to meet you, wooyoung." San reached out and took his hand, holding it in both of his own and gazing at him with an intensity that shut Wooyoung down. "Thank you for saving my life, you truly are my guardian angel, and how lucky am I to have been given the most beautiful one."

     All Wooyoung could do was gape. He himself had thought the stranger he'd found on the beach was the most handsome man he'd ever seen, even while completely drenched and covered in sand, but to have his own thoughts reciprocated sent a thrill through his entire body. 

     "Good, he’s awake!" Before Wooyoung could do or say anything more the door to the room opened and his father walked in. He was smiling down at San, looking friendly and welcoming as he walked over to the bedside. "How is he doing, Wooyoung?"

     "Much better then he was when we found him." He smiled over at San who returned it, then looked back up at his father. "All he remembers is that his name is Choi San, but nothing more than that."

     "One step at a time," he too smiled at San, "until we can figure this all out, you’ll just stay with us and make sure you fully recover. You'll have to continue sharing the room with Wooyoung, though, we've all had to double up on rooms, the inn is full. But my son makes wonderful company, I can assure you that, and should you need anything do not hesitate to ask."

     "Thank you, Mr. Jung." He sat up slightly and bowed, as much as he could while in the bed, and Wooyoung's father did the same.

     "Not a problem," he answered, then added, "we’re stranded here for a while as well, my ship was pretty badly damaged in that storm we passed through. More than likely that was the cause of your ending up here as well."

     "Yes, Wooyoung said you were sailors."

     "My Father is the head of his Majesty's merchant navy," Wooyoung answered, "we were delivering something on special request from our King to yours. Which reminds me, Father," he turned in his chair to look up at him, "I meant to ask you before but the sickness was far too much. I've seen you turn away shipments of far greater value than whatever was in that small box, why say yes this time and not all the others?"

     "Most times, yes, I will refuse to carry such cargo," he nodded, agreeing, "the threat of pirates, especially over such long distances is far too great a risk, and should we ever come across any we are ill equipped for such a fight. But this was a request straight from the King, I could not refuse." Wooyoung nodded along with him, then he turned his attention back to San. "Have you ever had any troubles with pirates, San? Perhaps that's how you came to be washed up. A fellow merchant sailor caught in a brush up with some pirates?"

     “No, Sir.” San shook his head. “I don't think I've ever come across pirates, not that I can remember at least.”

     Wooyoung's father watched him for a few moments, as if he was searching for something, but neither Wooyoung or San was sure of what it would have been. He looked San up and down a few times, the boy remained still as he did, then he closed his eyes and when he opened them again he was smiling at San. “Of course not,” he reached out and rubbed his shoulder, easing San’s discomfort slightly, “but merchant sailing can be tricky business, as I am sure you will come to remember if that is the line of work you are in. I am trying to teach my son right now all about it so that he can one day take my place.”

     “Do pirates often give you trouble?” Wooyoung wondered the same question as San asked it. They hadn't come across any on their travels over to Nero, nor spotted any sails on their horizons, but then again the storm was rough and would have been enough to deter even the greatest of sailors and captains from the chase.

     “No, not often, but it is a very real threat. I have had a few encounters myself over my years of sailing, but nothing too extreme.” Then he turned his attention from San to Wooyoung, his expression suddenly turning serious and his tone matching. “When you are sailing you must always be watching, Wooyoung. If pirates ever catch wind that you have a valuable shipment aboard, they will come after you, and merchant ships are not built to fight pirates, especially experienced ones.”

     Wooyoung furrowed his brows at his father, confused. “How would they ever know what we are carrying? The only people who ever know are the crew, the King, and the port captain who is hired by the King. Surely you don't mean-”

     “I do, Wooyoung.” He held his gaze with a steely expression of his own. “You would be surprised what some people would do and who they would betray for a handsome pouch of coin, no matter who it's from or how it is acquired.” Then he shifted his expression and gave his son a sympathetic smile, understanding the look of fear that crossed his face as he had been much the same when he began sailing. “The most important rule of being a merchant captain under the King is that no one can truly be trusted, at times not even your own crew. Always be on your guard, and be very careful about who you let into your crew, even more so about who you place your trust in.”

     Wooyoung was only able to nod and swallow hard. As if he needed another reason to cement his decision that sailing was not for him. The last thing he ever wanted to come across was pirates, especially some of the more merciless ones he had heard about, the ones that seemed to be more fiction than fact. Walking nightmares in their own right.

     “And as for you, San.” The boy perked up and turned to Wooyoung’s father. “Don't push yourself too hard into trying to remember. Wooyoung and I will make sure you’re taken care of until we can get it figured out, so you have nothing to worry about.”

     “Thank you, Sir.”

     Wooyoung's father left the room, closing the door behind him, and as soon as he did Wooyoung let out a shuddering breath and slumped over in his chair. How could this trip possibly get any worse? He could not be a merchant sailor, he was not made for any of this.

     “Why do you look like that?” Wooyoung turned sharply, as if he had forgotten he wasn't alone in the room. San was sitting up fully now, his elbows resting on his knees and his arms hanging loosely between them, watching Wooyoung with a look he couldn't quite decipher, but it made his entire body tingle with excited nerves. “Angels should never be sad. What's wrong?”

     “I… it's just this merchant sailing thing,” he answered, unsure of why he was telling his secrets to a complete stranger, especially after his father had just given him a lecture about being careful to give out his trust so freely. But there was something about San that made him feel comfortable, able to open up without judgement. “I don't think it's the job for me, in fact I know it's not.”

     “Have you told your father that?”

     Wooyoung shook his head and pouted his bottom lip. “I don't know how to. It's been his only plan for me since the day I was born. Follow in his footsteps, sail with him as his apprentice, and then take over for him when he is ready to retire. If I tell him I can't do that he'll be disappointed, he'd probably never look at me the same way again, but I just can't do it. I’m sick most of the time I'm on the ship, I nearly died in the storm, and now pirates! This is just not for me.”

     Wooyoung dropped his head into his hands, but jolted quickly back up as San landed his hand on his knee. “I think you should tell him,” he said, looking straight into his eyes and holding him there, “you can't live a life working a job that makes you this miserable. And he might be disappointed at first, but I'm sure he would just want you to do something that makes you happy.”

     Wooyoung smiled at him, which made San beam. “Yeah, you're right,” he said, turning away from Sans' wide toothy smile before his blush started up again, “I just know it's going to be a hard conversation.”

     “Probably,” San squeezed his knee and leaned down to try and catch his eye again, “but I'll be there with you.”

     The thought of San standing by his side while he told his father the bad news made him feel much calmer, but then another thought crossed his mind. “But what if you're not? I'm sure you have a family of your own that's looking for you, probably sick with worry right now.”

     San’s eyes turned heavy and downcast. He thought as hard as he could but still could not bring forth any memories. “I'm not so sure,” he answered, still clearly searching his mind, “I can't remember anything right now, but I just have this feeling that it's not just because of the memory loss that I can't remember a family, I don't think I have one. I don't think anyones looking for me, at least no one who cares about me the way you and your father care about each other. I think it's just me.”

     Without even realizing what he was doing, Wooyoung reached a hand out to cover San’s where it still rested over his knee, and when San turned his hand over to lace their fingers together, he let him. “Not anymore. Like my Father said, you've got us now.”

     For a while they gazed at each other, seemingly captive in each other's eyes. He found it so instantly easy to be with San, in a way he had never felt with anyone before. Even with his own family, Wooyoung had to put in effort to maintain a conversation or just feel seen, but the way San was looking at him, Wooyoung knew he didn't have to try. He saw him.

     “Bed.” Wooyoung suddenly blurted as he found both of them slowly inching closer and closer. A panic move for sure. “We should go to bed. It's very late and you still need to rest.”

     He pulled away from San and stood from the chair, walking around the room and cleaning up the water bucket and cloths he had gathered. 

     San’s eyes followed Wooyoung around the room, and then a realization hit him. “How long was I out for?”

     “Two days.”

     “Where did you sleep last night?” He asked, and Wooyoung froze in place with his back to San. “There's only one bed in here, and your father said this was your room and the inn was full.”

     Wooyoung didn't answer right away, instead he slowly turned and pointed to his right where a pile of blankets and a pillow was pushed up against the wall near a fireplace.

     “No,” San hurriedly shook his head, “no, you can't sleep on the floor.”

     “It's fine-”

     “It's not fine!” He argued back, insistent. “I can't let an angel sleep on the floor!”

     Wooyoung sucked in his bottom lip and bit down, trying desperately to stop the smile at the seemingly permanent pet name. “It's fine, San. I slept there last night and I was perfectly fine. And I would rather just let you have the bed so you can recover properly. I don't want to accidentally hurt you in my sleep, you've been through enough.”

     “I-”

     Wooyung raised a hand and stopped him from arguing anymore. “I’m sleeping on the floor and that's the end of it.” He sat on the floor and then laid back on the pillow, pulling the blankets over him as he did. “Now go to sleep, and blow out the candles beside you.”

     He heard San sigh hard before turning and blowing out the candles. He laid in the darkness for a moment while he listened to him shuffle around in the bed and get comfortable, then called out quietly, “Good night, San.”

     “Good night, my angel,” San answered back, his tone already lazy.

     This time Wooyoung let his smile overtake him in the dark. He had a feeling he wasn't going to be getting used to being called angel anytime soon, and he kind of liked that.

~~~~~~~~~~~ A/N: Also, I just thought I would add in this little tidbit for funsies. san-nakji is a korean dish that is literally just raw octopus tentacles, which is why poor Wooyoung looses his stomach when his dad mentions it, poor babe :P If anyone wants to be tagged for future chapter posts just let me know <3