#continuing the job feels like keeping his captain alive

[mist-the-wannabe-linguist]

Salientes is truly one of a kind in Europe

[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.

[lologoinsolo]

Minds Us All Masterlist, Part 1, Part 2, Part 3 TW: Mentions of blood! Non-con sedation And kidnapping!

“Make her off…” Kyle murmurs under his breath. That annoying smell of something far too clean and sterile has kept him up. Everyone has been taking time to sit besides Johnny in the hospital bed. “Make her off,” he jolts a bit when the door opens. John’s not looking his best but he’s trying to keep himself strong. Johnny took a bullet and nearly died for him after all.

“What’s that?” John says, tiredness etched into his features as he takes his seat besides a sleeping Johnny. The doctors worked relentlessly to keep him alive, now he just needs to wake up from his coma. “Heard you muttering, do you need a break?”

Kyle merely scoffs, he and Simon’s been sitting here the most. He still can’t get how devastated Simon sounded when Johnny was laying in a pile— he shakes his head and breathes deeply. “You remember that girl,” he says offhandedly, “the one that acted weirdly around Johnny.”

John’s beard crinkles slightly, “yeah? Johnny mentioned it once. Gave a report and everything.” He leans a bit forward, “why?” The gears in his head starts to grind.

“She told him that sunshine can’t go down the tunnel.” John freezes and Kyle continues, “I don’t get it. She was clearly frightened and confused.”

“She said sunshine?”

“Yeah,” Kyle sighs, “said it like a prayer.”

“I called Johnny, sunshine, before we went in the tunnel.” At that Kyle sits up. “I told him that we wouldn’t go down easy”.

The man’s eyes widen. “Make her off, make her— Makarov!” He shouts and the nurse makes a shushing noise, Kyle doesn’t seem to care as he stands up. The realization crashed down on him. “She knew,” she had to. “John, she knew.” How else would she have known that Makarov would’ve been there before anyone else?

The tiredness ebbs from John’s face and the Captain shows up. “Get Laswell on the phone right now, Gaz.”

…

You watched the news repeatedly after you left the hospital. You couldn’t sleep, couldn’t eat, everything felt wrong. Those blue eyes haunt you every time you blink. Your left side of your head throbs and aches, an itch on the inside of your brain. You hate it. You hate him. You hate that you can’t help but wait for a sign. A sign that you’re not as crazy as the doctors have made you out to be.

A week passes and nothing, another and nothing. You give up hope till the news recounts a ‘gas leak’ in a tunnel. Causing multiple problems and a near casualty. You drop your remote when your vision shakes your world and you see the man with familiar blue eyes being rushed on a gurney. Voices shouting at you, voices you’ve never heard giving commands. Your hands claw at your hair and you feel bile coming up your throat from the intensity of the sight. He’s bloodied up and his left side of his head looks at though it’s been cracked open with the blood gushing out.

You scream and fall to your knees when you manage to pull out. Your stomach lurches and you struggle to stand. You grab your keys, your wallet, and anything useful and drive off. You don’t know where you’re going but you're running. You never stay long when the visions come true, you can’t risk yourself. You won’t.

So you move, move around quickly and find a job. You found a hole in the wall apartment, no one would come looking for you here… at least you hope. Weeks turn into months, months turn into a year and you feel like maybe your life is coming slowly back together. Your visions have been weak but consistent, the only one that’s ever shaken you was blue eyes but he’s probably okay now. Hopefully…

Getting off of work, a job at the gas station. Something easy to blend into and no one bats an eye when you don’t look okay. Everyday has been feeling weirder. You’ve been writing more, visions are starting to stay longer. They’re getting worse again, the left side of your head throbs more every day. You’re tempted to run again but you don’t have the funds to do that. Taking a deep breath you push the apartment's creaky gate open, trudging along up the stairs to your place. You pull your keys out and as you do a warning flashes through you.

A man with a beard is sitting at your table, holding a gun, waiting. Waiting. He’s— you don’t open your door and you take off down the stairs. Your panic is rising with every stomp of your foot. You are near the gate and a flash of a hand goes through your mind's eye but not quick enough when you’re grabbed roughly. Can’t even scream when a hand clamps right over your mouth.

“Shut it,” a voice as deep as the ocean growls out. Your arms are forced behind your back as you cry and flail. You try to move them back but your assailant cuffs you quickly before slamming a hand back over your mouth before you can even call for help. Something cold is then pushed against the center of your back and it doesn’t take your curse to see that it’s a gun. “Walk. Now,” you hear a click and you tremble a step. Your arms are painfully tight against your back as he shoves you forward.

You walk up the steps and tears run down your face when he doesn’t even turn the knob, the door just opens for him. Meaning it was already unlocked. He shoves you once more to your kitchen table, the man with the beard that your curse showed earlier is sitting there. Waiting with a gun on the table. “Sit,” beard says, the one behind you gives a sharp nudge from his own gun and you sit.

“Pl-Please, I— I don’t have,” beard raises his hand and you try desperately to not whimper. “Please,” you beg, hoping he doesn’t kill you. You don’t know what they want or who they are.

“We need to talk.” Is all he says, he leans forward. The chair groaning under his weight and you blink back your wet eyes to see that he’s wearing a fishing hat. “You’re not hard to find, you know? Never stay in a place for long though.” His eyes squint and your struggle to breath when says without saying that you’re being tracked and watched. “Why are you running?” He doesn’t ask, he expects an answer from you. That gun on the table won’t allow you to deny him that.

“I…” you swallow, you can’t seem to stop your tears or the snot. You rub your face as best as you can against your shoulder. “Am I in t-trouble?” It’s not the answer he wants and his hand moves to his gun. “Please!” You shout suddenly, “I don’t know what I did wrong! Tell me, please— I don’t have any money. I’m sorry, please.”

He says nothing as you plead and beg, the one behind you doesn’t even make a gesture. You didn’t even recognize that he was wearing a mask, a skull one at that. A grim reaper that’s come to reap.

“Don’t kill me,” you blubber, you’re trembling so much that you’re surprised you haven’t vibrated off the chair. “Just— just tell me what I did wrong.”

He stands and you flinch, his hand trails as he walks around you. Shrinking under his hard gaze even more, “how did a girl like you work for Makarov, hm?” He chuckles mirthlessly, “could spill your bits out easily,” the one behind you grunts in agreement.

“I don’t,” you shake your head repeatedly side to side, “Makarov? Who? I don’t—“ beard grabs your chin and squeezes tightly making you whimper.

“Don’t play dumb with me.” He sneers, “one of my best nearly died but you told him to not go into that tunnel.” His thumb shifts harder against the fat of your cheeks. “Why?” That’s what confuses him in the entirety of tracking you down. If you did work for Makarov, why did you tell Johnny about it?

“Tunnel?” You murmur, tears rolling down your face and he does you the single kindness of flicking them away. It dawns on you now. “I-I,” you start hyperventilating, your anxiety through the roof as you try to breathe. The visions come flooding back and you scream.

…

10 minutes prior.

Gaz searches through your computer. Searching for something that could prove that you work with Makarov. It’s the only thing that makes possible sense, you’re practically normal. Your records scream ‘normal’, Laswell couldn’t find anything save for the fact that you’re an only child that went through numerous foster homes.

“Son of a bitch,” he slams his fist against your desk. Your search history is useless save for everything else. Sourdough starter, flower pots, seeds, gas, kitchenware, gas, star lights, dresser, gas. He sighs after looking at all of it, he hears a woman crying and he knows that Price is already interrogating you. He’d feel bad but they all need answers, “what are you hiding?” He mumbles when he sees gas, floor, and dresser typed in repeatedly. Almost like it’s important but why would you type it so many times. “Maybe she wanted new flooring?”

He leans back, taking a breath and he rolls his neck. “Gas…” his eyes move towards your dresser, “gas,” it starts to click, “Gaz, floor, dresser.” He pushes off and runs to your dresser. He opens it and digs through your clothing for something, anything. He lets out a gritted curse when there’s nothing.

He runs his hand down the sides, “floor,” a light bulb flickers to life in his head and he gets on his knees. His hands tap on the floorboards and he hears a hollow sound. “Gotcha,” he pulls the floorboards back and he sees numerous journals. Some old and some new, he grabs the newest one and he flips it open. Flicking through the pages and most of the dated entries makes no sense. Some are singular words to full on spirals of paragraphs. The latest one that’s dated today brings him to a stop.

Gun, man with gun, home, no safe. Run, run, mask, grab, gas will read, gas is read. Read. Read. figuring out, knowing. He knows. Knows. Knows. Scream.

Just as he reads that last word he hears a scream and he comes running downstairs with his gun in hand. He sees you screaming as Ghost shoves a needle into your throat. You flail and flounder, tears staining your cheeks and you manage to get off the chair. Ghost stands over you as you try to crawl away but there’s no way to escape. You hold out for as long as you can but eventually you give in. The sedative works quick and Ghost gives a nudge to your soft side but you make no movement. “Out like a light,” he hears the big man say. He crouches down and turns you on your back.

“Sir,” Gaz says, holstering his gun, “you need to see this.” Price glares down at you but he follows after Gaz upstairs to your room. “She—“ he doesn’t even know where to begin, “she knew we’d come.” He pushes your room door to open more. The journals he rummaged through is sprawled out on the floor.

“Makarov?” There’s a tight look on his Captain's face when Gaz shakes his head, “then how, Garrick?” Ghost is probably taking you to their van right now. Everything’s off record and he’s sure someone is bound to call the police with how you screamed. Just what he needed, he sways to move his weight to one side as Gaz looks bewildered, confused, and shaken up.

“Here,” he passes off your journal with the entry written before the one Gaz had read. It’s dated yesterday.

Man. 1, no, 2. Gun, man with gun, home, no safe. Run, run, mask, grabs. Grabbing you. Men, 3. 3 men, 3 total. Blue eyes. Blue. Same Blue. Hurt? Are hurt you? Will hurt they you? Scared. No. Stop, stop. Needle! Taken. Dark, van dark.

[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.”

[noirsdoll]

inspired by this anon ask!!

-> pretty please? part two

all aboard! | the dinner party | room for three

pairing: curly x wife!reader

words: 3.0k

tags: dubcon, referenced rape, baby trapping, semi-public sexual stuff, mentions of jimmy’s abuse towards anya, anya gets an abortion, reader is the worst person alive, there’s an actual smut scene this time, no crash au

notes: wasn’t planning on writing a second part but the brainrot got sooo bad uh reader gets even worse imo… writing the anya part caused me physical pain IM SORRY also i need to walk all over curly he’s so…

read it on ao3

Mrs. Grant Curly.

It sounds just as good as it feels. When Pony Express became fully automated, you lost your job just like everybody else. You were lucky that, when the dust settled, you’d made your mark on Curly.

Walking down the cargo ramp, displaying your fresh baby bump, courtesy of him, you've never felt more secure. Sure, Curly proposed to you more out of necessity than want and you got married at the courthouse, but you don’t care. That white picket fence dream you’d been chasing is now a reality.

Of course, you’re the one that cooks and cleans around the house— you didn’t expect anything less, you were sure that Curly had a housewife fantasy rolling around somewhere in that empty head of his. It’s nice, it keeps your hands busy and your mind free, because while he might be the one ordering you around, you’ve never felt more in control in your entire life.

You’re having the former crew over for dinner at your shared house, tonight. Fortunately, Jimmy got locked up for what he did to Anya quickly after the Tulpar’s touchdown, so you won't be seeing him for half a year, at least. The attendees are you, Anya, Daisuke, Swansea, and your lovely husband, Curly.

You cling to Curly’s arm, beckoning everyone in. Your guests crowd around you, admiring the ring Curly wrapped around your finger. A glittering diamond, so heavy it weighs down your hand. Curly smiles awkwardly.

“Wow, it’s gorgeous!” Anya says, with a clear hint of jealousy. You got a ring out of that trip and she gets an abortion.

“Damn, the Captain must be loaded!” Daisuke exclaims, tugging your hand closer for a better inspection.

Swansea nods. “It’s a good investment. You seem like a hard worker.”

“The hardest,” you say with a grin and a coy glance at Curly. “Dinner’s on the table. Pot roast.”

Everyone tucks in, one of the few non-synthetic meals they’ve had since their return to Earth, except for Daisuke, of course. You wonder how much his mom earns and how much it differs from Curly. For all you know, he could be a basement dweller for the rest of his life with no worries.

Curly sits beside you, eating quietly. With your free hand, you trail it up his thigh. You’ve touched him so many times before, but he still freezes up a little. Fortunately, you’ve done it enough that he knows better than to say anything, continuing to eat, albeit stiffer.

Your hand passes over his cock, right over the fabric of his nice suit. He looks so good in dinner formal— that tailored suit hugs his waist and somehow contains his tits. You’re glad you married him.

You hold a conversation with Swansea– something about gas prices and advice about your future kid— all with your hand gently running along the line of Curly’s dick. You honestly don’t care if they see, your cooking is good enough of a distraction.

You turn to look at the side opposite Curly and see Daisuke staring. Not at you, but at your hand— the one on Curly’s cock.

The both of you lock eyes and he looks away, his tan skin flushed rouge. You watch him for a moment, intrigued, slowly pulling away.

Nothing else happens for the rest of dinner, everyone migrates to the living room afterwards. Swansea’s showing Curly something in the garage and Anya’s in the washroom, so that just leaves you and Daisuke.

You lean back on the couch beside Daisuke. “So… what’re you doing now that the Tulpar’s done for?”

He rubs the back of his neck, wearing a suit— an expensive, designer one. “I dunno, Swansea’s having me join his freelancing business— and I think he’s great and all but like, I’m nowhere on his level.”

“I think you’re pretty capable, Daisuke,” you smile. “If not, I’m sure my husband can network you somewhere.”

Daisuke glances down at your pregnant stomach and back up. “So, you and the captain, you’re really like, married and all that?”

“Yeah, why?”

“No, nothing, it’s just— it seems kinda out of nowhere.” He shrugs, looking away. “You really spooked us when you announced it on the ship.”

“We’d been together for a while, it’s only natural that something would happen,” you laugh. You expected it to— you’d have poked holes in his condoms if he had them.

Daisuke swallows. “How long have you been together?”

You think for a moment. “Since maybe about… halfway through the trip? We just couldn’t keep our hands off of each other, really.”

“Oh, wow, that long?” He looks at you with a furrowed brow, contemplating.

“Yeah… is something wrong?”

“No,” he shakes his head, “I just feel stupid for not noticing.

“You’re not stupid, Daisuke. I said you were capable, remember?” You grin. “He just likes to keep things private, you know?”

“Private? But you two were…” He doesn’t finish the sentence. Is he talking about what he saw at the dinner table?

Daisuke glances past you and you hear footsteps, it must be Curly and Swansea returning from the garage.

You decide to play a game.

“... so then I figured I’d return to my roots. Go back to being a car mechanic,” Swansea says, halfway buried in a cardboard box.

“Right…” Curly holds the box steady for him, watching Swansea root through his spare tools like a raccoon.

Swansea springs up with a new wrench in hand— one that looks exactly like all the others he’s found laying around in Curly’s garage. “The missus wants me back to work already. Can you believe her?”

“It’ll be good for your joints,” Curly says, setting the box down.

Swansea tosses the newfound wrench into the pile of all the other hammers and pliers and wires. It thunks against the dull metal. Curly pats the dust off his suit, Swansea doesn’t seem to be worried about the condition of his own.

“Nah, she just wants to nag. She’s good at nagging.” Swansea laughs, patting Curly on the back and knocking the wind out of his lungs. “Get used to that, huh? You keep telling yourself it’ll end eventually and it never does.”

Curly takes a moment to regain his breath. “Thank you, but she doesn’t nag.” You do something far worse than nag.

“Yeah? Well, it’ll be something or another. It always is with women.” He pops his back, groaning. Swansea gestures to his pile of knick-knacks with his head. “I’ll have these all back to you by the end of the month.”

Curly nods. “Thanks, Swansea.” He’s never seeing those tools again.

After hauling it all to Swansea’s rusty pickup, they head to the living room. That’s where Curly sees you and Daisuke. He hears you too, and he wishes he couldn’t.

“Oh, you’re talking about me feeling him up during dinner? Yeah, Curly’s into being humiliated. He always has me do stuff like that when we’re in public.” You shrug. “I think it’s nasty, but you know, gotta keep the husband happy.”

Curly stops dead in his tracks, unsure of what to do or say. It’s like a car crash, all he can do is watch, powerless to stop the careening vehicle.

“So… you do stuff like that all the time?” Daisuke’s voice is shaky, breathless.

“Yeah, most couples roleplay.” You look so at ease. Curly feels sick. “Have you ever tried anything like that, Daisuke?”

“What?! I, uh, no, I haven’t.”

“That’s a shame. I’m sure if I talked to him, you and I could work something out—”

“Honey?” By some force of God, he’s compelled to speak, walking forward to the both of you.

You turn to him, your eyes lighting up. Curly would be flattered if he didn’t know your true intentions. Time with you has told him one thing— you’re constantly scheming. This is your newest one. But why drag Daisuke into this? Just to spite him?

Maybe you’re switching targets. That could be a good thing, but Curly can’t bring himself to feel that way– especially when it’d just be another person getting hurt in his stead.

He was never hurt. You’re a pretty girl, of course he’s wanted it, he was just confused. That’s why he never pushed you off, that’s what makes it all okay.

“Ah, there’s the man of the hour,” you smile, “we were just talking about you, nothing important.”

Curly glances from you to Daisuke, whose eyes are so wide they swallow up his whole face. “Yeah, had a feeling you were. Why don’t you go check on Anya? Swansea and I have some business stuff to talk to Daisuke about and I doubt you want to be around for that.”

“Of course,” you beam, getting on your tiptoes to kiss him. You leave with a flurry of your dress around the corner.

At least Curly can say you aren’t bad to look at.

“Fuck, fuck, where did I put it?”

Anya rifles through her tiny purse, sorting through makeup and pills and her phone, searching for the one thing she really needs right now. She feels frantic, lamenting not wearing a dress with pockets. Eventually she finds it, pulling out a wrinkled period liner that was shoved to the bottom of her bag.

Getting her period is a reminder of Jimmy, a reminder of the fact that she’s not pregnant anymore, that she’s safe from him now. Anya never knew her period could be so comforting.

Just as she grabs a hold of the pad, she hears a knock on the bathroom door. “Who is it?” Anya shoves the pad back into her void of a bag, trying to disguise the crinkles with her voice.

“Can I come in?” It’s you. One of the few friends she has.

“Yes, of course.”

You enter, baby bump first, and Anya has to look away, wringing her hands. She doesn’t mean for the gesture to appear so rude, but she can’t help it.

“Is everything okay?” You ask, moving your head till it meets her gaze.

Anya nods on instinct. “Yes, I’m fine. Just… parties make me exhausted sometimes.”

“I get it, totally.” You sit on the edge of the tub, with Anya leaning against the counter. Everything in this bathroom is so blindingly white— it reminds Anya of the room where she got her abortion— operation.

“Um, congratulations on you and Curly’s marriage, if I didn’t say it already.”

You smile, “Aww, thank you, Anya. Truly, I’ve never been happier.”

“That’s good,” she purses her lips, debating if she should ask the question. “On the Tulpar, you told me that Curly made you do things. Is everything okay with you and him?”

“Yeah,” you nod. “Sometimes people make mistakes, confuse a situation for something it’s not, you know?”

“Ah, really?”

“Oh, all the time.” You say it like it’s obvious. Something winds in Anya’s stomach. “I figured, it was just all in my head, really. You just wanna feel special sometimes. I talked to Grant and apologized for saying a thing like that and now it’s all better.” You gently pet a hand over your stomach. “Plus I get this little guy as a reward for all my hard work.”

Anya swallows. “Right, yeah.” It feels like she’s being crushed from above. She can’t breathe, blurting out each word. “Do you have a pad, by any chance? I only have one and I don’t think it’ll be enough.”

Slowly, you shake your head. “Sorry, I don’t get those anymore. I’m pregnant, remember?” You chuckle. “Will you be okay without an extra?”

She nods. “Yes, I might have to leave early, though.”

“Alright, well, come get me when you want to leave so I can show you out.” You pat her shoulder, smile a warm smile, and leave the way you came.

Anya collapses in a heap once the door closes.

Like all good things, the party eventually comes to an end. You stand at the door with Curly’s hand on your waist, the perfect picture of a couple as you see your guests off.

Once the door shuts and the porch lights click off, Curly reaches for his tie’s knot, loosening it with a sigh. “Did you have fun?”

“So much fun.” You lock the door, heading down the hall to the bedroom. “How was your business talk?”

Curly trails after you, undoing his suit jacket. “It’s boring. It always is.”

You reach the bedroom, standing by the foot of it as you unzip your dress and step out of it. Curly looks like he wants to say something, so you stay silent. Poor thing, it’s like speaking his mind hurts.

He’s halfway down unbuttoning his dress shirt when he strings the words together. “Am I not enough for you?”

“What makes you say that?” You know exactly what he’s talking about. You just like seeing the way he questions himself when you question him.

You unclasp your bra, your tits drooping. You hate the way you look pregnant, you have to avoid seeing your reflection like a fucking vampire. It’s a means to an end, that’s the only thing that’s reassured you.

“That whole thing with Daisuke— you can’t just say stuff like that in front of other people.” He’s gaining a bit of a backbone, it surprises you. “I want this to work.”

“Then we both need to step up, right?” You move closer. “I cleaned the whole house and cooked dinner just for you to spend most of the time hiding in the garage.”

“We were working, it wasn’t like it was on purpose—,”

“No, it was on purpose. You’re being a bad husband, Grant.” You gesture to your belly, the final nail in the coffin. “You can’t act like this when I’m pregnant with your baby, okay? You have to be a father to your child.”

You stand there, fuming and for a moment you actually feel angry. Your performance is so convincing even you believe it.

“Hey, don’t be mad, please.” It’s the best argument he’s got, especially when he tips your grumbling face up to meet his baby blues. “I fucked up today and I’m sorry, okay? I’ll do better, promise.”

Fuck, he’s so perfect. He caves like clockwork, hearing him admit it’s his fault gets you soaked every time. You kiss him, soft and slow. “Could you help me take off my heels, then? My feet are killing me.”

You sit on the edge of the bed and Curly takes a knee, the same way he did in your crew quarters, promising to buy you a ring the second he landed. And he always keeps his promises.

He undoes your heels and you watch on with an easy grin as he peppers kisses along your ankles and the top of your feet. You expected him to do that, Curly’s so predictable. He keeps his eyes on yours, searching for your praise. He kneads your feet a little too, massaging out all the aches and pains.

His mouth trails higher and higher until it reaches its end destination— your shaven pussy. You can never get a good look with the baby bump in the way, so you make him shave it. It’s one of his favourite tasks– like a sensory toy for a toddler.

Curly’s tongue laves over your slit and he eats you out, thick eyelashes fluttering closed as he takes his time with you.

Your orgasm makes up for the fake anger you lobbied at him— it swallows you up and spits you back on the bed with a limp spine. You deserve it, honestly, all this acting really takes a toll on you.

Your favourite part is when he gets on the bed with you, big burly arms caging you in. It feels like the entire world’s been closed out and it’s just you and him. Nothing but his warm body pressed so tightly to yours. Two puzzle pieces that fit.

Curly fumbles a little in the dark, but eventually his fat cock is splitting you open, that same perfect cock that knocked you up all those months ago. It feels just as good as it did the first time and all those subsequent times after.

His eyelids fall to half mast as he looks at you, and that’s how you know you have him. So easily ensnared, what’s the point of an argument when you can just spread your legs and he comes willingly? You’ll have to try it next time, see if your pussy does a better job of speaking for you.

The mattress creaks with every slow movement. Unhurried and hard is the rhythm he always chooses, constantly searching your expression to make sure he isn’t hurting you. Not that you’d mind.

It would just remind you of that night in his quarters, when he’d snapped and he was no longer the Curly you’d grown obsessed with, when you were half sure he might kill you. Since then, you made sure never to push him that far again, to only play games you were certain you’d win.

And Curly filling you up after a long day is a sure bet.

He cums quicker than you’d like, but you’re too tired to berate him. He’s done enough today. Crowded up against his chest, you play with the hair there, winding the short strands around your fingers.

Too fucked out for malice, you both talk for a while. On baby names, on family, on being better. You only care about one of those. You’ve been set on the baby names ever since you scratched them onto the metal wall of your quarters back on the Tulpar— right above the heart with both yours and Curly’s names.

You just tell him you haven’t decided yet.

[the-gay-trashmouth]

I think something that's bothers me about how folks talk about mouthwashing is how they talk about Swansea. It's either "Swansea would have killed Jimmy immediately if Anya had told him" or "he knew and he did nothing just like curly." because, to me at least it leaves out a lot of nuance to his character and situation. Curly and Swansea are really good foils to each other, one who's got a reputation for being the kind and helpful captain but in the end does nothing to truly protect the crew from Jimmy, and one who's gruff, harsh, and cruel but genuinely tries to help in the background, the reliable mechanic.

(read more for a long Mouthwashing character ramble tw for unwanted pregnancy and SA)

Because Curly is the one with the power. He doesn't take what Jimmy did seriously enough. And you can say that he might not have known fully what Jimmy did, but I think the "I told you" pregnancy conversation and his reaction to Jimmy right before the crash ("come on we'll get through this together. We'll figure it out, you've had hard times before-") are indicators that he knew, but he still chose to stick by his friend and treat it like a "mistake" rather than what it really was.

Now that's my own personal speculation of course, there's no outright scene of her telling him "your best friend assaulted me", but I think there's enough evidence in game through Anya and Curlys interactions to say that he knew, and he knew before Anaya knew she was pregnant. He had a fully functioning ship and four fully functional cryo-pods. He could have at least given Anya more security, kept her far away from him, and at most forced him into the cryopod until they got back to earth. Jimmy STILL had full, uncontrolled access to the cockpit AFTER his freakout with curly. AFTER Anya tells curly she doesn't feel safe with him. AFTER Curly finds out he raped Anya. He's so focused on seeing the good in his friend that he does NOTHING to protect Anya, doesn't strip away not one of Jimmy powers as copilot and consequently endangers her and the rest of the crew.

Curly was the captain, he had the power to relegate Jimmy to the fucking storage closet if he really wanted, at least put him in the cryopod until they got back to earth. In fact, he was the only person above Jimmy in terms of rank on the ship, but he chose to do nothing. He chose to let Jimmy continue as acting co-pilot, chose to comfort him rather than actually confront him. Slides off his weird sexual comments as jokes "So what's this about horses?"

Now let's compare that to Swansea, the mechanic.

We don't have any evidence that Swansea knew about what Jimmy did until after the crash ("it's been her telling me things") where they were trapped with no captain, barely any rations, and a single cryopod that he kept hidden away in the one room he had the key too (and the only room that could lead into medbay). He didn't use it for himself, he makes it clear he didn't intend on getting off this hunk of metal in his last few conversations with Jimmy.

Swansea as the ship's mechanic, was used to fixing things in the background. He didn't need to get along with anyone to keep the ship running, he didn't need people to like him to keep them safe. We see that with Daisuke. He's harsh on him, for sure, but he leaves constant notes to help him learn. Genuinely tries to keep him out of harm's way when it comes to more dangerous jobs. We know Anya was scared of Jimmy getting a weapon, she hid the gun case in the medical bay even knowing she would never get it open. We can see Swansea and Anya off on their own towards the first days after the crash, and Swansea still has a tight grip of the axe weeks and months later.

I personally think that was him trying to keep Jimmy from having access to a weapon. The only time Jimmy gets the axe while Swansea is alive is when Anya Specifically asks him to use it to get medical supplies. I don't think that's a coincidence.

Swansea, like any good mechanic, was quietly trying to keep things running out of Jimmy's sight. It's not until everyone is dead or dying that he snaps, that he finally takes direct action. But it was too little too late.

Both Curly and Swansea thought they were doing the right thing, helping in their own way. Curly genuinely wanted to see the good in Jimmy, wanted it to just be some challenge they could overcome, but in doing so he failed to see the monster right in front of him. He had all the power (in context of the crew, the company is a whole other can of worms I have so many other thoughts on), but he was too afraid to use it. Hell, he was DISCOURAGED to use it if the memo about HR complaints are anything to go by. Swansea, on the other hand, never trusted Jimmy, never even really liked him, but he didn't want to make anything worse either. He didn't know what would actually set Jimmy off, or what he was capable of, and aside from just straight up killing him what else could he do that wouldn't just push Jimmy further off the edge? Like with the foam. "One wrong move and you'll rip this ship a new asshole", he worked carefully, hiding the last pod from Jimmy, keeping the only other weapon on himself, guarding the only other entrance into Medbay, but Jimmy was escalating quickly. He underestimated how far Jimmy was willing to go, just like Curly had, and in the end suffered the consequences.

The only character who actually understood how dangerous and unstable Jimmy was is Anya. She knew the moment she found out she was pregnant he would hurt her ("you won't let me protect myself"). He wouldn't be able to take it, he would do something drastic. She knew he was escalating the longer they were stranded. Anya is the only crew member who truly understood how dangerous Jimmy was and took direct action.

And interesting thing to me is that she doesn't just kill herself. She locks herself in the medbay. She could have waited for Jimmy to sleep, or locked herself in the cockpit, but she locked herself in the medbay with Curly. She knows that with her gone there would be no one left to take care of him, she knew Jimmy would continue to escalate his abuse, and with her gone all of his anger and fear and guilt would turn on Curly.

And wouldn't you know it? She was right. Without Anya to stop him, he takes curly out of the bed, forces him upright into the cryopod, and forces a man with no skin, no arms, no legs, and infected tissues to be frozen for 20 years while the rest of his crew Rot. And that's only what we know to be reality- if any of his delusions had some basis in reality he could have done so so much more. Anya is the Only one to take reasonable, direct action to keep herself, and then Curly, safe.

But she didn't have enough power over Jimmy to truly protect herself. She didn't have the code to the gun case, she didn't have a weapon or a rank to fall back on. She was outnumbered by men who she knew from experience either wouldn't or couldn't keep her safe, and she was heavily pregnant with a baby she didn't want and most likely couldn't even get enough nutrients to sustain either her or the fetus. She was physically weakened and trapped in a stranded ship with her abuser with no way home and a medical miracle (curse) in Curly.

This game is a really good reflection of reality, in my opinion as an abuse survivor. Some people will see them as "one of the boys" and constantly excuse or downplay their actions (Curly), some people will do small things in the background, recognize the abuse and disprove, but don't want to get in the way or make things worse (Swansea), and some people are just straight up oblivious/naive (Daisuke). But in the end, it's the system that allows abuse and incentives coverups to keep peace or save face that really allows abuse to fester and escalate.

Which is why I personally have a problem with the idea that Anya should have just Told A Different Man because it ignores the very real chain of power and her own agency in her story, AS WELL AS the idea that Swansea and Diasuke knew but didn't care because that's just not reflective of real life. Not every man is some rapist apologist who doesn't care what abusers do until it happens to them, some people just don't know what to do, or don't have any good options that wouldn't result in further abuse. Hell some people just don't even fucking notice! Not everyone has had exposure to the signs or knows what to look for.

It's easy when looking at fictional depictions of abuse to say "well if I was there I would have just punched him/killed him/called the police" but real life, in that moment, its never going to be clear cut. You can call out abuse, but that might just lead to that abuser taking it out on their abuse victim later. They could even start to target you for daring to speak out, or try to hurt you and cut you off from the person being abused. You can know all the right steps and the right programs, but in the moment, when faced with a real situation where someone could get hurt or even killed? You stumble. You think things over, you don't try and make any direct moves that would set their abusers off. Sometimes that's a good instinct, and sometimes that just lets abuse escalate. It's never a good situation, and it's never actually anyone's fault but the abusers. And this way of thinking also conveniently leaves out the survivor of this abuse, and portrays them as someone who needs to be saved, rather than someone who needs support and resources to save themselves. It also very conveniently lets the company that Put Anya in this situation in the first place get off Scott free.

The solution isn't "oh one of the men on board should have personally killed Jimbo and saved Anya all by himself" its "Anya deserved the support of her crewmates instead of being forced into close proximity with her rapist and also maybe Jimmy shouldn't have access to the fucking controls or medbay or any weapons- AND ALSO the crew shouldn't have financial incentives not to report things to HR"

[sillylittlespam]

ISN’T IT DELICATE?

Delicate masterlist

Chapter One : New Captain Alert!

riordanverse characters x brooklyn 99 au!

detective!percy jackson x detective!y/n

Summary : (y/n) (l/n) wasn’t quite used to being a member of a precinct that actually cared about each other. She had been at the 99th precinct for almost a year, yet she still found herself keeping her co-workers at arms-length. She wanted to feel comfortable and open up, she just wasn’t sure how.

For someone who made a lot of embarrassing decisions, Percy Jackson hated the feeling of humiliation. But him and his big mouth somehow managed to get into a very public argument with his new coworker-slash-secret-crush, which ended in a very intense bet. If (y/n) made more felony arrests than he did, then she got his car. But if he made more felony arrests than her, he got to take (y/n) out on a date. And while he was glad to finally have a reason to talk to this absolutely gorgeous social recluse, it also meant that he finally had to go above and beyond at his job.

. : 𓏲🐋 ๋࣭  ࣪ ˖✩࿐࿔ 🌊

“This job is eating me alive. I can’t breathe anymore. I spent all these years trying to be the good guy, the man in the white hat. I’m not becoming like them, I am them.”

“Jackson, what the hell are you doing?”

The dark haired man looked up to find his detective partner, (y/n) (l/n), watching him with a mixture of annoyance and confusion on her face. In her hands, she held a small notebook and a pen.

“I’m doing the best speech from Donnie Brasco,” Percy informed her, before turning to look at the camera that projected his face onto the many televisions behind him, “Or, actually… Ten of me are doing the best speech from Donnie Brasco.”

“Can you get it together?” (y/n) asked. Out of everyone in the whole precinct, she was one of the few people who didn’t at least somewhat enjoy his shenanigans. Turning back to the store owner, she continued reading from her notebook, “So the store was robbed about two hours ago. They took mostly tablets, laptops, and cameras-“

She stopped talking when the sound of ‘80s hip-hop music began blaring from behind her, and she turned around to give Percy a blank stare.

“Sorry,” he said, and quickly pressed the power button of the electric keyboard to turn off the music.

(y/n) let out a deep sigh before turning back to the store owner, “I’d like a list of all your employees. Whoever had access to the store. I’d also like to apologize for my partner, his parents didn’t give him enough attention growing up.”

“Excuse me, Detective,” despite the dig at him, Percy had a smile on his face as he addressed (y/n), “I’ve already solved the case.”

(y/n)’s arms dropped to her side, and her impatient expression encouraged Percy to continue.

“We’re looking for three white males, one of whom has sleeve tats on both arms.”

“And how do you know that?” (y/n)’s voice was more tired than anything as she made her way over to her partner.

“I had an informant on the inside,” Percy’s voice was dead serious, “He’s been here for years. Watching, learning, waiting.”

A moment of silence hung in the air as (y/n) waited for the punchline.

“His code name?” Percy took a few steps backward before reaching over one of the shelves to reveal a stuffed animal, “Fuzzy cuddle bear. He’s a nanny cam!” 

Percy flipped the bear over quickly before his partner could say anything.

“You got lucky,” (y/n) scoffed, shaking her head.

“No, I got here five minutes before you and figured that in this gigantic electronics store, there had to be at least one working camera,” Percy shot back, taking the chip out of the nanny cam and inserting it into the projector. The televisions behind them showed the robbers, one of them perfectly fitting Percy’s previous description, “Hi, bad guys!”

He picked up the teddy bear again, looking into it’s eyes, “You did it, Fuzzy. You busted ‘em. It’s time to come home.”

“I’m not sure if I can,” Percy lifted the teddy higher, pretending to voice it, and (y/n) rolled her eyes, “I’ve been undercover so long, I’ve forgotten who I am. I have seen terrible things. I haven’t known the touch of a woman in many moons.”

As Percy voices the teddy bear, it got increasingly closer to (y/n)’s face.

“All right,” she said, turning and walking away.

“Detective (l/n)!” the bear, aka Percy, cried, “Don’t walk away from me!”

If there was one thing (y/n) hated, it was losing. And at this very moment, as she sat in the briefing room and looked upon the whiteboard in front of her, she could feel the taste of defeat beginning to seep in.

“Yes, I did crack the case,” Percy Jackson announced from his seat across from her. For once he sat upright in his chair, his body turned to face her as he smirked, “(l/n). would you care to do the honors?”

Feeling the entire room turned to look at her, (y/n) sighed and pushed herself out of her chair. Once at the whiteboard, she erased the number 23 below Percy’s name.

“Yeah, and you’re just gonna wanna add one,” Percy called, as she wrote down the number 24 in very small handwriting.

“I hate this,” (y/n) muttered, mostly to herself as the rest of the room let out whoops, claps, and various cheers. The number under her name was stuck at 22, meaning that Percy remained in the lead.

“And I’m winning!” he exclaimed, “It’s a good feeling.”

As (y/n) turned to go back to her seat, the rest of the room burst out into applause. Her eyes fell on Percy’s green one’s. The large grin on his face provoked the smallest smile from (y/n), and she quickly rolled her eyes to cover it up.

“Enjoy it while it lasts,” she said.

“Oh, I will,” he shot back, moving to rest his legs on the table in front of him before she turned around to the front where one of their sergeants, Jason Grace, was taking the stand.

“Alright,” the tall, blond man cleared his throat before addressing the precinct, “PJ, any update on the Morgenthau murder?”

“Yeah!” Percy stood from his seat, running a hand through his dark hair, “Good news for all you murder fans.”

He brought out a few laughs as he made his way to the front to show off a presentation.

“Earlier this morning, someone decided to shoot and kill luxury food importer Henry Morgenthau. Body was found by the cleaning lady. During her interview, I deduced using expert detective work that she had something super gross on her chin.”

The room groaned at the photo he provided.

“I think it was flan,” Percy’s best friend, Grover Underwood, said after sipping his coffee.

“Grover thinks it’s flan, I think it was butterscotch pudding.”

“It could just be old person gunk,” Clarisse La Rue spoke up, her feet still propped up on the table in front of her despite the numerous requests to remove them, “You know how old people always have that gunk on them?”

“Oldie gunk,” Percy pointed at her, “Could be, yeah. Anyone else?”

“How about we focus on the murder, Jackson? And not the old person gunk?” Jason suggested, patiently.

“Crime techs are at the scene now,” (y/n) spoke up, “We’re heading back when they’re done.”

“Okay, I want you two on this,” Jason emphasized, “This is gonna be priority one for the new C.O.”

“Wait, tell us about the new captain,” Clarisse said.

“Captain Ramírez will be here soon. She’ll want to introduce herself,” he told them, “Dismissed.”

“I think it’s so cool that we’re going to have a female captain,” Hazel Levesque spoke up.

“You know what’s even cooler?” Leo Valdez asked her, “That she’s hispanic.”

That sparked a debate about whether being a woman or being Hispanic made their new Captain more of a minority. The rest of the precinct decided to mind their own business, and tend to their other tasks.

The arrival of the new captain was rather inconvenient, as Percy and Leo, the only two detectives who were not allowed to be left together due to their lack of rational thinking, had been left together and somehow managed to catch an almost full garbage can on fire. In a poor attempt to put the fire out, they had knocked it over and sent burning garbage all over the floor.

“Where the hell is the fire extinguisher?” Frank Zhang, the precinct’s other sergeant, asked frantically. A silent woman handed it to him, “Thank you!”

After the fire had been successfully put out, it took Frank a minute or so to notice that the entire precinct was silently staring behind him. Turning around, he found himself face-to-face with a rather tall, stern looking woman with a very official police badge.

“Captain Ramírez!” Frank exclaimed, and Jason quickly made his way over, taking care not to step on the charred mess on the floor.

“I’m so sorry you had to see that, Captain Ramírez,” the blond man stuck out his hand, “I can assure you that this sort of thing does not usually happen at the 99!”

“Why’s he lying?” Leo whispered, earning a smile from Percy and a shushing noise from (y/n).

“Captain Ramírez-Arellano,” was all the olive skinned woman said.

“I’m sorry?” Grace asked, lowering his hand.

“That is my name. Captain Ramírez-Arellano. I have two last names, I would appreciate for them to be used.”

“I’m sorry, Captain, I wasn’t aware of that,” Jason reacted much quicker than Zhang, “Thank you for correcting us.”

She nodded once in acknowledgment, before turning her attention to the silent detectives.

“Everyone,” she began, poise and elegant like a copper statue, “I am your new commanding officer, Captain Reyna Ramírez-Arellano. I trust that you adults can handle yourselves for a few minutes while I have a word with your sergeants?”

She received a few nods, while the rest of the precinct remained too nervous to move.

“Gentlemen,” she gestured for them to follow her as she walked to her office.

“Yes ma’am,” they said in unison, quickly following behind.

The detectives waited until the door closed to begin speaking.

“I think I’m in love,” Piper McLean spoke up, earning a few nods.

“I love her attitude,” Annabeth Chase, Percy’s other best friend, agreed.

“Is anyone else picking up a gay vibe?” Nico di Angelo, the precinct’s civilian administrator, asked. The room fell silent as everyone gave him a weird look.

“How the hell did you idiots manage to light a whole trash can on fire?” (y/n) asked, turning to Percy and Leo.

The pair shot each other grins, before shaking their heads.

“It was an experiment,” was all Leo said. They refused to explain any further.

In the Captain’s office, Reyna placed her name tag on the desk.

“Sergeant Grace, it’s nice to meet you. Sergeant Zhang, you were with me in the 1-8. Though… you were significantly…..” The captain chose her words carefully.

“Fatter, ma’am,” Frank said, “Yes, I go to a gym now.”

“Good for you,” Reyna’s tone was not at all sarcastic as she stood and walked towards the window, “Sergeants, tell me about your detective squad.”

A moment of silence hung in the air as the two men tried to figure out what to say.

“Hazel Levesque is my fiancée,” Frank spoke up, and the trio’s eyes fell to the dark skinned woman, who was diligently typing away at her computer, “We’ve been cleared and everything, so there’s nothing to worry about. She works hard, she does things by the book, overall she’s very good at her job. But we try to keep her out of the interrogation room.”

“Can she not handle it?” Reyna’s tone was almost surprised.

“Not in the way you’re thinking,” Jason held back a smile.

“You know I’m not mad at you, I just want to hear the truth,” Hazel leaned back in her chair almost too casually as her eyes scanned the face of the man in front of her.

Leo Valdez sat, confused as to why he had been dragged to the interrogation room, “Yeah, I still don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I know that idiot act works on everyone else, but it’s not going to work on me,” the dark skinned woman sat up, her golden eyes burning holes into Leo’s brown ones, “You ate my pie. Admit it.”

“What? Hazel, no I didn’t-“

“You’re lying!” the Latino flinched at the volume increase as Hazel shouted and jumped up, slamming her hands on the metal table between them , “I know you did!”

“Hazel, sweetie, what the hell is going on?” the detectives turned to find Piper McLean had entered the room, “Also, beat it. I need to interrogate my perp.”

“Nico di Angelo, our civilian administrator,” Grace began, nodding to the desk outside the captain’s office. The young man he was referring to, however, remained in the huddled group of off-task detectives, no doubt whispering about what was currently happening behind closed doors, “He’s…scary. But he’s the guy you want sending awkward emails or confronting a lawyer. He is a college student, so this is kind of a part-time job for him, but he does it well. He only really got the job because he grew up with Percy, Annabeth, and Grover.”

“Nico, you managed to get eight at-risk kids to sign up for the Junior Police Program,” Jason said as he and Clarisse approached the young man lounging behind his desk, “How the hell did you do it?”

Nico looked up from his phone, “Oh, I just told them some crap about how they need to have passion for something in their lives. And when that didn’t work I told them about how much cops get paid, how they never have to stop at a red light, and get to carry a gun.”

“How did you know that would work?” Jason asked.

“That’s what made me sign up,” Nico shrugged.

“You did this program?” For once, Clarisse sounded surprised as she looked upon Nico’s shaggy black hair, silver skull rings, dark baggy clothing, and various chains.

“Yeah. It does not work.”

“While Nico is scary in the ‘caffeine withdrawal slash emo teenager’ kind of way, Clarisse La Rue is scary in the ‘I’m gonna pull you into a dark alley and beat you up’ kind of way,” Frank continued, his eyes falling on the curly haired woman, who was currently staring daggers into someone across the room, “She’s not the best at managing her anger, or doing her paperwork. She’s tough, smart, and very athletic.”

Clarisse had just arrived back at the precinct after a trial where she testified against a perp she had arrested. Hazel and Frank applauded almost genuinely as Clarisse spread her arms and did a mock bow.

“La Rue, you did it,” Frank congratulated, “They found him guilty on all charges.”

“Huh,” Clarisse smiled for once, “Hazel’s advice worked.”

She threw a light punch at the woman’s shoulder, who laughed in return.

“So where was your happy place?” Hazel asked, referring to the trick she suggested to keep her temper in check.

“I’m in a cabin in the middle of nowhere,” Clarisse began, “Inside it’s just me and that stupid, slimy defense attorney. And I’m beating the hell out of him. I break a dining room table over his head. Then I rip off his arm and shove it where the sun don't shine. Then I reach down his throat and shake his hand.”

Frank and Hazel looked at each other, speechless.

“Yeah, okay!” Frank finally said after he collected his thoughts, “I’m going to go ahead and schedule you for a psych eval!”

“Piper McLean can either be your best friend, or your worst enemy,” Grace continued, and the attention turned to the almond skinned woman wearing a snowboarding jacket who was whispering with Nico, “she grew up really well off, but once she turned 18 she decided to make her own money. She’s a very hard worker, but she can be a little…uneducated in certain aspects of life.”

It was around noon when the entire precinct was startled by the sound of an explosion.

A startled scream directed everyone’s attention over to the microwave, which had caught on fire. Piper McLean stood a few feet away, frozen in shock.

“Piper, use the fire extinguisher!” Annabeth called from the other side of the room.

“I don’t know how to!”

Grover, who was in close proximity, grabbed the extinguisher and successfully put out the fire.

“What the hell happened?” Clarisse asked, and everyone else began muttering their own questions.

“I don’t know, I-“

Grover opened the charred microwave to reveal a fork. At the sight of it, everyone let out an annoyed sigh.

“Did you put this in there?” he asked.

“Was I not supposed to? I’m sorry, I can replace it-“

Sergeant Grace and Sergeant Zhang exchanged looks.

“We need to schedule a ‘precinct safety’ meeting,” Jason muttered, and Frank nodded.

“Leo Valdez is going to be the reason I have a heart attack,” Frank Zhang sighed and nodded to the curly-haired Latino who stood in the center of the Off-Task unit, “I love the kid, but he’s insane. Somehow he manages to light everything on fire. But work-wise, he’s surprisingly efficient. He had a really rough childhood. His mom died and he was homeless for a while. Obviously that kind of stuff is still going to effect you later in life, so we try to cut him some slack if he’s having a hard time.”

“Hey, are you doing okay?” (y/n) quietly asked as she approached Leo at his desk. She had been watching him for a while, and his unexplained shift in personality was beginning to worry her. The precinct was having one of its rare quiet days, where all the extroverts were out chasing leads.

“Hm?” Leo looked up from his computer monitor, which had turned off ten minutes ago, “What? Oh, yeah, no, I’m fine.”

“Something about saying “yeah, no,” makes me think you’re not fine,” (y/n) said, a small smile on her face, “Do you want to talk about anything?”

Leo was silent for a moment, before he sighed.

“Ah,” he began picking at the zipper of his open jacket, “Today’s kind of the anniversary of my mom dying.”

“Oh,” (y/n) didn’t know what to say. ‘I’m sorry’ didn’t sound good enough.

“And I just-“ Leo stopped himself, pausing to look out the window. (y/n) was pretty sure he was blinking back tears, so she awkwardly turned her head for a moment to give him some privacy, “I’m just having a hard time focusing. Literally all I have to do is finish this stupid report. I was supposed to be done an hour ago, I’m not even halfway done.”

“I can do it,” (y/n) said after a moment of silence.

Leo turned to look at her, almost confused, “What? No, (l/n), you don’t have to do my report, I-“

“No, I can do it. I fly through reports. And this way you can get started on something else,” she nodded to the sticky notes tapped to the bottom of his monitor with an overwhelming to-do list.

Leo’s eyes scanned (y/n)’s face for a moment. She stuck her hand out, and Leo eventually handed her the file.

“Thank you,” he said, quietly, and she gave him a small nod.

“Grover Underwood is a member of what we higher-ups call the trio. It’s composed of him, Annabeth, and Percy, since they grew up together. Out of the three of them, Grover is the only one I would trust with my car keys,” Grace said, and the attention went towards the brown skinned man whispering to a blonde woman, “He’s a sweet kid, he loves animals, and bless the Lord, he has a sense of reason.”

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Grover Underwood made a show of announcing as he walked into the precinct, earning everyone’s attention, “Six banks robbed in three weeks, $250,000 stolen, citizens trembling in fear. Well, no more.”

“You got your bank robber!” Jason exclaimed.

“Went home last night, no overtime, just me and some brie. And I cracked it. So, here he is. The thug that’s been terrorizing the city. Say hello, Marvin.”

“Hello,” everyone’s smiles faded as they turned their attention to an eighty year old man with a blue scarf.

“Oh my Gods, he’s so old,” Hazel exclaimed, voicing what everyone else was thinking.

“He’s not that old!” Grover insisted, his own attitude dropping at the unexpected reaction, “his nurse isn’t even full time!”

“Annabeth Chase is scary in the ‘I know a hundred ways to kill you and even more ways to hide your body’ kind of way,” Frank continued, nodding to the blonde who was nodding to whatever Grover was whispering, “She’s the smartest person you know, until she’s around Percy and Grover. She can either be the biggest overachiever, or the biggest slacker. It really depends on the week.”

When Annabeth Chase sat down at her desk with a large cup of coffee, Grover, her desk partner, paused his conversation with Clarisse. The two detectives silently watched the blonde woman as she impatiently waited for her computer to turn on.

“What?” Annabeth asked as she finally noticed their eyes, her voice containing a slight rasp to it.

“Nothing,” the glance shared between Grover and Clarisse revealed the lie.

Annabeth’s eyes narrowed, expectantly.

“You just look a little…tired, Annabeth,” Grover made sure to keep his voice light as he referred to the dark circles under her eyes, “Did you sleep alright?”

“I didn’t sleep at all, actually,” Annabeth blinked, her focus off in the distance, “I got off work late and went home. I started playing Minecraft, and got distracted with building the city of New York. Before I knew it, it was time for me to come back and I still hadn’t finished my work.”

“Did you finish the city?” Grover’s casual tone let Clarisse know this wasn’t an uncommon occurance.

“Almost,” she rubbed her eyes, “I just need to put in the sidewalks and figure out how to make cars.”

The other two detectives watched silently as the blonde chugged her coffee.

“I’m still behind on my paperwork,” she muttered.

Reyna’s attention fell to one of the desks outside the group of people, where (y/n) sat, halfheartedly attempting to type up a report. ‘Attempting’ being the key word, because Percy was making things difficult as he leaned on her desk while he went on about something in the hopes of earning her attention. 

“Tell me about them,” Reyna nodded in their direction, and the sergeants exchanged knowing  looks.

“(y/n) (l/n) is our newest detective. She’s been here almost a year, and, well…” Frank trailed off, “All we really know is that she’s reserved, smart, and very hard to read.”

“She’s brilliant, but she has a hard time letting people in. Stubborn too,” Jason added, “she and Jackson have some big bet over who gets more arrests this year. Ever since the bet, their numbers have gone way up.”

“Hey, how did you know that woman?” Percy asked his partner as he drove the police car back to the precinct.

“Hm?” (y/n) looked up from the case file she was studying. Percy glanced over to find her watching him, “Keep your eyes on the road, Jackson.”

“They are!” he insisted, “And I asked how you knew the woman we spoke to.”

“Oh,” (y/n) seemed to hold back a smile, “I made her wedding cakes back when I had a baking business.”

“I didn’t know you owned a business!” Percy’s eyes were wide, and his tone was full of surprise, “Or that you could bake.”

“I only did it to put myself through college. It was fun, but I don’t really have time for it anymore,” (y/n) shrugged, “I was really good at it, though.”

“You know, my birthday’s in a few months,” Percy shot her a quick smile. Then his expression faltered, and he was silent for a moment, “Wait a minute, did you say wedding cakes, plural?”

“Percy, watch the fucking road!”

“Tell me about Jackson,” Reyna said.

Jason let out a long sigh, “Percy Jackson may just be our best detective. He loves putting away bad guys and solving puzzles. The only puzzle he hasn’t solved is how to grow up.”

“That was very well put,” Reyna noted.

“We’ve both spoken a lot about Percy in our departmentally mandated therapy sessions,” Frank muttered.

“You busted through a window for no reason?” Jason Grace asked, his hands massaging his temple.

“Basic police tactic, Sarge,” Percy said, as if it should’ve been obvious, “Cover every exit.”

“It was a sealed window on the fifth floor,” Jason lifted his head to squint at the dark haired detective, “You could’ve just gone through the door with Grover.”

“Yeah, but then what would my catchphrase have been? “Knock knock, who’s there? Justice?”” Percy stopped talking, taking a moment to think, “Wait, that's actually amazing.”

Jason walked away, shaking his head as he muttered something about paperwork.

“We’ve also noticed he seems to have a strange fixation on trying to get (y/n) to open up,” Jason commented, “So if they’re not working on a case together, they need to be as far away from each other as possible, otherwise no work will get done.”

“Aren’t their desks right next to each other?” Reyna asked.

“That’s the problem we’ve run into as well,” Frank nodded, “And these detectives are weirdly attached with their desks.”

Reyna was silent for a moment, “Thank you, sergeants, you may be dismissed. Please send di Angelo in.”

“Yes ma’am.”

A few moments later there was a knock at the door, “You wanted to see me?”

“Yes, Nico, have a seat,” Reyna gestured to the chair in front of her desk.

She waited until the young adult was comfortable before she spoke again, her eyes trained beyond her window, “Tell me about the bet between (l/n) and Jackson.”

Nico blinked, almost surprised at the question.

“Oh. Well, it started a few months ago. I’m not really sure what they were arguing about, but it ended in Percy insisting he could do his job better than her. So the deal is if (l/n) gets more felony arrests, Percy has to give her his car. It’s an old Mustang, it’s pretty sick. But if he gets more arrests, she has to go on a date with him,” Reyna’s lips twitched up at Nico’s words, “He guarantees it will end in sex, but honestly the rest of the precinct seems to think (y/n)’s got this in the bag.”

“And what do you think?” the captain asked, shifting her gaze to the young man in front of her as she leaned back in her chair ever so slightly.

Nico glanced towards the door to ensure it was closed before answering, “Honestly? It depends on how much he wants that date. He has a tremendous amount of potential, he just needs something to put it towards. On the other hand, I don’t know shit about (y/n). She gets her work done, and kind of keeps to herself. That girl could be a secret undercover crime lord or something, and none of us would know until it’s too late.”

“I get your point,” Reyna nodded, “Thank you, you may go.”

When the new captain was finally left alone in her office, she allowed herself to recline in her chair, her eyes still on the pair of detectives.

At this point, (y/n) had given up on writing her report. Her arms crossed in front of her, yet she had the slightest smile on her face as she looked up at Percy. He was still talking about God-knows-what, and anyone watching could tell it was a one-sided conversation. The way that he slowly inched closer to her, and the way that she nodded along with his words let Reyna know that while she may be in for more than she signed up for, this was going to be hella interesting.

authors note

the first chapter is done! if you can’t tell, y/n is still warming up to her precinct, and I’m excited to see where this goes because we all know the characters I write kinda do their own thing

thank you so much for reading, I hope you enjoyed this!

taglist!

@itzmeme @simpingmyassoff @sukimiya

please comment if you’d like to be added to the tag list :))

[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.

[for-the-sake-of-color]

Hehehehe, its @clonexocweek Day 5!!! Prompt: Future ft. Kix/Nihlus! (and Alec haha)

Have an Excerpt from my as of yet unreleased chapter of Blinding Devotion - The Kix/Nihlus mega-fic! This Chapter is titled "The Last Battle of Kamino: Introducing Alec" and this portion of it covers Kix and Nihlus naming their new son together. Warnings for - Slightly Graphic Mentions of child death, a decanting tower on Kamino falls. Also lots of dead soldiers as well. [Day 1] [Day 2] [Day 3] [Day 4]

Bleeding, screaming, alive. And he was going to stay that way. Nihlus would make sure he stayed that way.

Just the one, just the one survived the fall in a condition to be able to be saved, to be old enough to be saved, to be close enough and have enough time to be saved. Maybe not whole, but alive.

Nihlus sat crouched in the ruins of durasteel and glass and tiny, silent broken bodies that he could not help, and wept right along with the one clone baby he had managed to save from the collapse.

But… he couldn't stay in this place. It wasn't safe for the baby, and there were more little clone children here yet that needed his protection.

He had been rushing on his way as ordered to the quarters for the younger cadets when he had watched the gestation tower fall, platform wracked by explosives. He had stopped to see if there was anything he could do, anything at all for all those brilliant to-be soldiers.

And there was… but just for one. Any other that would have lived if he could just be faster… did not. Healing took time, even on such a tiny body. Time that these hundreds of premature infants had not had. 

But… he could save this one. It was cold though, in this room, he knew that for sure even if he himself couldn't feel it through his suit. He knew the cadets would have better fitting clothes he could wrap the infant in when he got there, but for now he just… stripped the red outer shirt off a dead older cadet he had seen when rushing down the hall. 

The little one needed it more, now. Nihlus loosened the straps on his chest plate and used the fallen cadets undershirt as a makeshift sling. Behind his armor was the safest place for him, now, as he began to cut through the droids that were converging on the area. 

But there were still hundreds of more clone children in danger on this platform, and Captain Jet had ordered him to protect them, even in direct contradiction with the Jedi's orders to stay and fight the neverending onslaught. And everyone knew who Nihlus would listen to.

So he had rushed off with a very important job to do, trusting his own apprentice to stay and guard their Alor with her life, should it come to it. 

The closer they got to where he felt the children’s lives like a beacon, the more bodies of adult troopers he found. Had to be the squads the Jedi had sent down. The ones they had assured Jet should be enough to continue their assault on the droids encampment platforms. Nihlus ran as fast as he could while keeping the baby steady.

He had crushed two rollers and cut down several SBD’s by the time he reached the room he felt them held up in. They had locked the door, for their own safety, obviously. There was no need for that now, though, he thought as he ripped it open with the force, locking mechanism and hydraulics sparking and crunching at the action, and he stepped inside.

To be faced with many tiny, fearful yet furious faces, and two older cadets in red with blasters pointed right at him. Not a single armored trooper among them, and no way out on their end. They were lucky he had arrived when he had.

“Are you a Jedi?” one of the ones in red asked

He turned to the older cadet, “I’m here to help. You need to armor up, there’s a lot of spares in the hall,” he replied instead of answering. His usual answer of ‘no’ would bring them no comfort, no trust in him, so for now he would simply forego it in favor of shifting their minds cooperatively  along as he needed. 

He stood guard at the door as the older cadets stripped and strapped into the armor of the dead soldiers outside of the room, and blew apart a couple of battle droids in the process. It was almost amusing the way the armor was just ever so slightly large on them.

Nihlus hummed to himself as he rocked the baby back and forth to keep him calm with little more than a gentle force nudge. Unfortunately, none of the little ones seemed to know where to find the baby clothes, and the older cadets didn’t know either, but didn’t think there would be anywhere nearby. 

Well. huh. 

Fine then. He simply wrapped the baby in a spare shirt from one of the younger cadets' pods in the room, something slightly more fitting, even as large as it still was on him. Large as it would be for a couple years yet.

He chuckled lightly as he pulled the kid's arm out of his mouth, pinning it lightly to his chest as he wrapped the red overshirt back around him like a blanket; he would need to be fed soon. If his prior experiences in child rearing humanoids held fast along with the knowledge of just how many rations a hungry clone could put back when damn well pressed, he would probably need to eat quite a lot and quite often.

An infant should never be working with a calorie deficit, after all.

One of the older cadets came over as he finished wrapping the boy, and grinned over his shoulder, wiggling a finger at the little decant, and then he paused with a frown, 

“The droids haven't made it to the-”

“No, the newly decanted nurseries are still secure,” Nihlus assured him, it was the truth, to the best of his knowledge, “He was in a tower fall,”

“The only one?” He asked quietly, to live?

“Yea,” Nihlus replied, “He was lucky,”

“Oh yikes,” The young trooper deadpanned, tone startling Nihlus, not having heard his thoughts. He had been trying to keep his personal force presence to himself so as to not disturb the baby, “Don’t name him that. I know like, four Lucky’s and two of them are already dead. Bad name, terrible name.”

And Nihlus paused at his words, “Name him?”

The Cadet looked at him with the nerve and incredulity only a teenager could muster, and said, “Well yea, you saved him right? I mean, he’s too young to remember it right now, but I’m sure someone will. Besides, he fell from a fucking gestation tower! And survived! If that doesn’t earn him a name I’d hate to see the kinda thing he’d personally hold out for,” 

Nihlus hummed to himself as he looked down at the boy, at those big brown watery eyes and that dark dusting of hair, and then looked up and crushed a pair of rollers that had begun to make their way down the hall, quickly picking the child up and carefully placing him back behind Nihlus’ chestplate now that he had another layer of protection against the cold, and strapping him in firmly, but gently. 

He would not let the droids take what was his to protect.

Nihlus would keep what was his safe, no matter the cost.

What’s yours? He heard Kix ask from the back of his thoughts, their bond still humming strong, and he must have heard the conviction behind Nihlus thoughts of their foundling, because he seemed to do a quick mental sigh of acceptance and then,

Right. We will raise warriors, Kix echoed their marriage vows back at him, Fuck. Okay, well, what are we going to name him then?

Nihlus grinned as he gathered the cadets to get moving towards the safety of the DNA chambers and nursery tower; he loved his angel so much. His bright, shining star of a man. 

His… star. Hm. in his native tongue, that would be Al.

Al 

Not a bad start but not really a full name.

Star- something huh? Starlight? 

“Alair,” Nihlus said out loud, and, no, in his mouth it was too close to Alor. their kid might grow up thinking he was predestined to lead the clan or something. He didn’t want the kids' names to start a clan war.

Not a great way to start the next truly separate generation of their people.

You’re overthinking it, Kix replied

“It’s his name,” Nihlus hissed quietly back, flicking several blaster bolts back at the battle droids that had begun pouring out from the end of the hall they had been passing, before he simply crushed the doorway bulkhead, cutting off the droids means of entry so they could continue forwards without that threat at their backs

Yea, it is, Kix relented, because he of all people knew how important that a name was. More so than most and so very personally. Shooting star?

Nihlus snorted, “Mitheniele’Al. It’s a bit of a mouthful,” and felt Kix snort in return, so probably not that one, then.

Rising star?

“Allus,” not a bad name, as it was, but maybe a bit conceited of him to name their first child together after himself, although Kix did point out they were technically already naming him after the medic himself

Tup says Star Warrior but, uh, that one’s a no from me. Cliche. 

He chuckled in return at his bondmate, “Alistair is not a bad name, per say” but Kix was right. ‘We will raise warriors’ as a wedding vow, and then they go and name him warrior? Their first child? 

Bright Star?

“Eveinllie’Al” another mouthful, and Kix hummed in thought

After a minute of presumably fighting on his husbands end, he chimed back in with, Precious Star? Because by virtue of being theirs, the child was already a treasure. 

And Nihlus nearly paused in his stride, before he continued forwards in thought, looking down at their delicate foundling, sending the older cadets to guard the back as he took lead once more to continue guiding them.

“Alec,” He said aloud. Precious. And he nodded, “Alec.” yea, he liked how it rolled off the tongue

Alec, he felt Kix echo in agreement, quite pleased with it, the meaning having been his own idea, after all. 

And Nihlus couldn’t help but be overjoyed as he crushed several more droids and a couple of bulkheads, almost to their destination, to safety for all these little soldiers, and a way to part, to bring home to his family their newest member.

[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