#corporal hicks x reader

[fluentmoviequoter]

Accidental CI

Pairing: David "Deacon" Kay x fem!reader

Summary: When your employer's name comes up in a case, your best friend Deacon calls to ask for your help. He leads you into a dangerous situation, and you come out as more than friends.

Warnings: r works an unspecified corporate job, mentions weapon trafficking and guns, threats, mostly fluff!

Word Count: 3.1k+ words

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“Hi, Deac,” you greet as you open the door.

“How was work?” he asks.

“It was fine. My boss forgot to start a software update last night so we didn’t have computer access until after lunch.”

“So, you got paid to sit there and do nothing?”

“Which isn’t that much different than most days,” you tease. “What about you? Any crazy calls?”

You lead Deacon into your kitchen, and his smile widens when he sees dinner waiting on your counter. He pulls you into a quick hug before telling you about his day at work.

“No injuries?” you ask softly.

“No injuries,” he assures. “What about you; any paper cuts that need tending to?”

“Just mental injuries for me. Our financial statements aren’t aligning like they should and if it’s not fixed by the next audit, someone’s getting in trouble.”

“What do you think caused it?”

“Oversight or adding the same bill twice, I’d guess. But I think we should talk about something more exciting than my future IRS investigation.”

“Then let’s talk about that amazing dinner over there and I’ll remind you that Luca wants to have a cooking competition with you.”

Deacon has been your best friend since he moved in next door. You also harbor an ever-growing crush on him. When you saw him climb out of the moving truck the first day, you knew you wanted to be close. He’s got a stressful job, so if you can give him a break and a friend, that’s what you’ll do.

Deacon watches the screen in the situation room as Hondo explains the corporate espionage turned weapon trafficking case. It's a strange move, going from stealing trade secrets to transporting illegal weapons across borders and into areas with strict gun control laws. Metro found a lot of evidence, but when they located the weapons supply in their prime suspect’s corporate office, they called in 20 Squad.

“Wait, go back. Who’s the suspect?” Deacon asks.

His eyes search the monitor as Hondo returns to a page of surveillance photos.

“Elwin Dupree. You know him?” Hondo responds.

“Not personally, but I know someone who works for him.”

“CI?” Chris guesses.

“No. She might be willing to help, though.”

“Call her,” Hondo says.

Hicks adds, “Otherwise, we’re going in blind. Metro has intel but it’s not enough to avoid an ambush.”

Deacon nods and walks out of the room. He presses a contact from his favorites list before raising his phone to his ear.

“Remind me why we work here?” your desk neighbor, whom you lovingly call Nola, says as she sits across from you.

“Because the pay is good… and we’re desperate,” you offer, smiling as you accept your favorite drink.

“May I remind you that Dupree is an idiot who can’t even remember what he asks us to do?”

“Just smile and go with it, Nola, it’s the easiest way to handle it.”

“The man called me into his office yesterday, and then didn’t know why I was there,” she whispers.

“That’s probably a good thing for you. Considering your nickname is based off of your reply of no; lazy.”

“I am lazy! So, I don’t like to do things. He can fire me whenever he wants.”

You roll your eyes and prepare to reply but are interrupted by your cell phone ringing. You apologize to Nola before you answer it.

“Hey, it’s me,” Deacon says on the other end of the line.

“Indeed, it is. What’s going on?” you reply.

“How do you know something is going on?”

“It’s mid-morning on a weekday. And you never call me.”

“I call you all the time!” Deacon argues.

You laugh before you say, “Not when you’re at work.”

“Okay, fine, you’re right. Listen, we’re working on something, and your boss’s name came up.”

“Dupree?” you inquire. “Why?”

“I can’t tell you exactly what we’re looking into, but Hondo and Hicks wanted to know if you’d be willing to help us.”

“Of course. Tell me what to do,” you agree.

“Can you come down here?”

“Uh, yeah,” you answer. You open the calendar on your computer and add, “I can spare an hour and a half, is that enough time?”

“Absolutely. Thank you,” Deacon says.

“Anything for you.”

You hang up and gather your things before standing.

“Where are you off to? Please tell me you’re leaving to go on a date with the hot neighbor you always talk about,” Nola whispers.

“Not today. There was a slight mishap for some of our paperwork. I have to run to another office and get everything sorted out,” you lie. “I’ll have my cell if you need anything.”

“Dodging bullets left and right, aren’t you? Go ahead, I’ll watch your phone and fill in Dupree if he notices you’re gone.”

“Thanks, Nola.”

When you park outside the station, your thoughts begin spiraling. You sit in your seat and wonder if you made the right decision. Will you be in Deacon’s way or be too distracted by him to even help? What if something happens to him while you’re with him? What if he-

A tap on your window draws you from your questions. You turn your head and see Deacon looking at you through the glass. You send him a small smile as he opens your door and bends to look at you. His head tilts to this side, and when he lowers to a squat, his brown eyes distract you as he looks up at you.

“You okay? You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to,” he says gently.

“No, I want to. Just- I was thinking too much, I guess,” you reply.

Deacon nods and stands before offering his hand to help you out of your seat. He closes the door and ensures it’s locked before moving his hand to your back to lead you inside.

“Nice to meet you. I’m Hondo,” Hondo says as you enter.

You shake Hondo’s hand and introduce yourself as you follow him further into the station. He doesn’t waste any time as he begins explaining as much as he can about how your boss is involved in the case they’re working.

“We’d like to send you in the get additional details on the office and any other information you can find,” Hondo says. “We’ve got basic floor plans, but we need insider info.”

“She can’t go in alone,” Deacon argues. “We don’t know what he has in that office. If she starts asking questions and he gets suspicious-“

You cut Deacon off by laying a hand on his shoulder and asking, “What if you go in with me? It wouldn’t be that hard for me to lie about who you are; Dupree doesn’t know most of the people who work in the building. Plus, you know what to look for better than I do.”

Hondo looks at Deacon and waits for his reply. You feel Deacon sigh against your hand before agreeing to go into the office with you.

“There’s an employee entrance without metal detectors, but you have to swipe a keycard,” you explain. “They’ll know if you piggyback with me.”

“Our techs can make him a keycard,” Hondo assures. “If you have yours, they can copy parts of it.”

You nod and pass your card to Hondo. He turns and gives it to a passing officer with a few short instructions. Deacon pats your arm as he leaves to change; his uniform isn’t business casual, but he said he'd find something more fitting.

“20 Squad is going to be close by,” Hondo begins. “Deacon can say a word and we’ll be inside, but if you need help and get separated from Deacon, try to get to a window. Signaling for help is easiest with this; just keep it in your pocket or your hand and press the button if you need us.”

You accept the small device and slide it into your pocket. It’s invisible, and you nod as Hondo reassures you everything will be okay.

“I know you can’t tell me what exactly Dupree is doing, but you’re going to catch him, right?” you ask softly.

“Absolutely. Nobody can run from S.W.A.T.”

You scan your keycard and wait for Deacon to do the same before opening the door. The employee entrance is on the side of the building, and you smooth your hands over your hips nervously. When you feel the device Hondo gave you, you relax slightly.

“We’ll walk to my desk, look at a few papers, and then go in?” you suggest as Deacon gestures for you to enter.

“Sounds good,” he agrees.

“The suit looks good,” you mumble as you walk toward the elevator.

Deacon chuckles as the elevator door opens, and you smile as he shakes his head at your flattery. The elevator is quiet, and as you wait to arrive on your floor, you take a few deep breaths. Deacon’s hand finds your lower back, and he rubs small, comforting circles before the door opens.

“Still working on the paperwork issue?” Nola asks when you reach your desk.

“Yeah, we are. This is Ryan from the Santa Monica branch,” you say.

Nola’s eyes narrow at you before she looks at Deacon’s hand. He’s close to you, like always, but you don’t understand her look. You raise your brows, but she only shrugs before looking back at her computer.

“Was it this one?” you ask Deacon.

He takes the blank form from your hand and nods. “Yes, this is the one.”

You return the paper to its rightful place on your desk before leading Deacon down another hallway. Nola’s reaction confused you at first, yet you’re not surprised when Deacon gently grabs your hip to stop you in the hallway.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper.

“It’s fine. Just stay calm and remember our covers. Like you said, Dupree won’t know any difference,” Deacon soothes. “And the team’s waiting for our signal if we need them.”

You nod, and Deacon’s hands raise to your shoulders as he drops his chin to look into your eyes.

“You got this,” he promises.

“I need to discuss an urgent matter with Mr. Dupree,” you inform his secretary. “This is Mr. Ryan Davidson from the Santa Monica branch. There have been some discrepancies with paperwork submitted to their office, which needs Mr. Dupree’s immediate attention.”

His secretary raises the receiver of her desk phone and whispers into it. You turn to look at Deacon, and he tilts his head to the left to signal you to stay calm and wait.

“You can go on in,” the secretary says as she lowers the phone.

Deacon opens the door for you, and you step inside first.

“Hello,” Mr. Dupree greets. He doesn’t pretend to remember your name, you notice. “I heard there’s an issue with some paperwork?”

“Yes, sir,” Deacon says. “I’m Ryan Davidson with the Santa Monica office and we’ve been having issues; receiving incomplete or incorrect paperwork from this branch.”

“My sincerest apologies, Ryan. If you don’t mind, use that laptop there and sign into your account while I bring mine up. We’ll get this sorted.”

You stand back as Deacon walks to the table at the back of the office and opens the laptop. Mr. Dupree didn’t shake his hand, ask for identification, or take other proper steps before jumping to help. It’s suspicious, but probably not what Deacon and his team need.

“What kind of incorrect information have you seen?” Mr. Dupree asks. You open your mouth to answer, and he adds, “Ryan?”

“Financial statements that aren’t matching previous months, for one. Most likely an oversight or adding the same bill twice. Nothing too extreme, just something we need sorted before the end-of-year audits,” Deacon answers.

You raise your eyebrows in surprise at his response. He practically repeated a complaint you shared during your last dinner together.

“Very well. I don’t know why the system is moving so slowly,” Dupree responds. He moves his hand under his desk as Deacon types.

You watch Dupree because Deacon’s team is getting him the access he needs. When you see the handle of a gun gripped in Dupree’s hand, you call, “Gun!” and drop to the floor just before he shoots above your head.

Deacon pulls his own weapon and points it at Dupree as he demands, “Put the gun down. I’m Sergeant Kay, L.A.P.D. S.W.A.T.”

As Deacon speaks, you slowly press your back against the side of Dupree’s desk, where he can’t see you. Deacon’s eyes are on Dupree, but you watch Deacon because you trust him to keep you safe.

“I could put it down,” Dupree says. “But if I angle it like this and pull the trigger, wouldn’t it hit your little friend?”

Deacon glances at you quickly, and you lock eyes before you shift away from the oversized desk.

“One more time: drop the gun,” Deacon repeats.

You can’t see Dupree, but you clap your hands over your ears as you hear two shots. Everything goes quiet, and you lean forward slowly to look for Deacon. He kneels before you and gently pulls your hands away from your head. You let him move you before surging forward to hug him. He welcomes you into his arms as footsteps echo in the hallway outside.

“It’s okay. We got him,” Deacon promises.

You nod against Deacon and allow him to help you stand. Deacon keeps you angled away from Dupree’s desk, and you’re happy to avoid looking.

“Did you get everything you need?” you ask quietly as Street and Luca lead a paramedic inside.

“We did. Are you okay?”

Deacon lays a hand on your shoulder, and his thumb presses gently into your tense muscles as he looks into your eyes.

“Get her out of here. Hondo said you can take the rest of the day. Maybe she can practice for the competition,” Luca calls.

“I think you need the practice more than me,” you reply without turning.

Luca laughs as Deacon wraps an arm around your shoulders and leads you out of the office. He takes you back to your desk to get your things, and Nola rushes to hug you when you enter the open area.

“I heard the shots and was so worried!” she exclaims. “You’re okay?”

“I’m fine,” you promise.

 “Then I need you to do something. Go home and ask your neighbor out. Don’t wait too long,” she says.

You nod and return to Deacon’s side. He heard everything from where he was standing, yet doesn’t comment as he helps you into the passenger seat of his car. Once you’re on the road, he fills the silence by asking you questions about what you will cook for your competition with Luca. You know he’s trying to distract you from what happened, and you appreciate it.

Back at the station, you sign some paperwork to receive CI benefits before walking to Deacon’s side. He offers to drive you home and keep you company, which you happily accept. You never like leaving Deacon and don’t want to be alone tonight.

“I waited too long,” Deacon murmurs while walking you out.

You stop and turn to face him as you ask, “For what?”

“What your friend said. I waited too long to ask you out.”

You smile and slide your hand into his. “Did you know that Nola looked at us like that because you were standing really close to me?" Deacon shrugs, and you explain, “I never shut up about you, Deac. I’m in love with you, so she was confused about why I was standing so close to another man.”

“Never?” Deacon repeats playfully.

“You didn’t wait too long, Deac,” you promise.

“I didn’t?”

“Not if you take your chance right now.”

Deacon looks around quickly before yelling, “Hicks! Did you file it yet?”

“No; I’m busy, Deacon,” Hicks answers.

“Can you make her Hondo’s CI?”

Hicks looks between the two of you and rolls his eyes. “Yes, I can.”

When Deacon turns back to you, he doesn’t give you time to speak before he asks, “Will you go out with me?”

“Nothing would make me happier,” you answer.

Your smile grows to match Deacon’s, but he makes it disappear when he pulls you in and kisses you. The sound of clapping makes you open your eyes as you pull back. Hondo leads 20 Squad in a round of applause, and you bury your face in Deacon’s chest to hide your grin and burning embarrassment.

“My CI’s never end up like this,” Hondo jokes.

“Pretty good timing, though, wasn’t it?” Deacon asks as he wraps his arms around you.

You stand wordlessly from the couch and walk past Deacon. He turns to watch you as you enter your bathroom and close the door. It only takes a moment for him to decide to follow you.

“Are you okay?” Deacon asks from outside the door. “And don’t just say you’re fine. We both know you’re not.”

You open the door and lean against the vanity as he walks in. “I feel bad that you had to shoot Dupree. I know he’s fine and he’ll recover, pay for him crimes, and everything. But you probably wouldn’t have done that if I wasn’t there.”

“Don’t think like that. If he had refused to drop the gun or fired again, I would have stopped him. Whether you were there or not. The only thing that was different was how fast I decided to do it; he was threatening you, but that didn’t affect my reaction itself.”

You nod, and Deacon places his hands on the vanity, caging you and keeping you close. “Don’t carry that guilt around,” he requests. “It gets heavy quickly.”

You slip your arms under Deacon’s to circle his waist. Because of your position, you look up at him and ask, “Could I have another kiss to help me overcome all of this guilt?”

Deacon laughs as his hand raises to rub your back. “Anything for my accidental CI.”

“I’m Hondo’s CI,” you remind him.

“But I’m the one that gets to kiss you, so who has the better timing?”

You let your kiss answer the question, and when Deacon pulls you against him to be even closer, you know that the wait was worth it. Though you probably won’t agree to go into the office of a weapon trafficker with him again, you will always be ready to help him when he asks and comfort him when he can’t. Despite how much you loved Deacon when you thought you could only be friends, you feel more love now that you know he feels the same.

[suzdin]

Mad Max Phillips

(Vampire!Max Phillips x f!reader)

Summary: When trying to deliver a message to Max Phillips doesn’t go according to plan.

Warnings: no use of y/n but use of a nickname/pet name, violence/gore, blood kink, fingering, unprotected p in v (he’s dead it doesn’t matter), squirting, biting (obviously), kind of soft Max at one point

Notes: Basically wanted an excuse to write something about vampires to exercise my knowledge of vampire lore, that’s all really. Enjoy!

18+ MDNI

——

You aren’t sure what compels you to knock on the door to Max’s office. It’s after hours and you should be sitting in traffic by now, chugging down your third or fourth iced coffee of the day, mentally preparing yourself to go to the bar for St. Patrick’s Day celebrations with Alice and Tristan later. Not standing on the fifth floor, where you definitely don’t belong, with some name and phone number scrawled on a post-it note because asshole Max Phillips wouldn’t answer his goddamn phone.

You got the call right as you were about to clock out—a client called ManeGain that sells hair growth products for men. Needed to talk Max Phillips about their account. Fine, you thought. Last one of the day.

Let me direct your call, you’d told the voice on the phone. One moment.

You thought you were home free after that. That is until another call rolled through right as you were slinking into your purse and jacket, fingers hovering over the keyboard to log your hours for the day.

He isn’t answering and I need to talk to him immediately. Please see to it he gets my message, the voice said.

You’re under no obligation to hand deliver messages. Your job is to man the front desk, answer and route phone calls to the appropriate recipients. Direct visitors to the bathroom down the hall. Be a smiling face—or not—as people you barely recognize wash past you and into the building for a long and exhausting 9 to 5 in corporate America.

You had a vague idea of what Max looked like. By and large, he ignored you. As if you weren’t really there. Which was fine by you; the less interaction you had to endure throughout the day, the better.

So you aren’t sure why you’re here, on this empty floor crammed full of cubicles by yourself, hand delivering a message to a man you couldn’t care less about right now. Especially after hearing what sounded like screams as you stepped off the elevator into the hall; and especially after said screams had fallen stagnant and the only other noise audible to you is the crescendo of your own breath as it warbles out of your chest.

You rap your knuckles softly against the door, a lingering sense of dread snaking its way up your spine. “Mr. Phillips? I’m from downstairs. From the lobby? I have a message for you from a Jim Hicks with ManeGain?“

You wait patiently and you’re met with silence so heavy your ears ring. Not even the creak of an office chair or the tapping of fingers on a keyboard can be heard. Perhaps Max has already gone home for the day? You don’t recall seeing him, but it’s possible you missed him in the rush to complete your end of day tasks.

Now that you think about it, you don’t remember seeing him much at all lately.

You could just stick the note to his door and be done with it. After all, it isn’t your job to play delivery person. You’ve done more than is necessary already.

But there’s a persistent intuition rising in your throat that something is off. That something is wrong—you’re sure you’d heard screams. What if Max is hurt? What if you could help him?

The smart thing to do would be to call 911 and vacate yourself back to the safety of the lobby while you wait for emergency services to arrive. But if Max or someone else is injured, they may only have precious few seconds to live, so if you could just check that everything is alright first for your own peace of mind…

As you raise your hand to knock a second time, the door abruptly whooshes open in front of you, an arm shooting forward to hook around your neck and snatch you into the confines of the office, a second hand clapping over your mouth to dampen the horrified yelp that works its way up from your lungs. Your back collides harshly into the door as someone you can’t see spins you, pinning you between themselves and the wood. This all happens within fractions of a second.

At first you think you’ve lost your vision; the room is black as pitch and you can’t even make out the edges of the space around you, much less whoever is inches from your face. Once your vision adjusts, you pick up on the faint blinking glow of a modem against the wall; aside from that, you’re completely blind, your other senses going into overtime.

The first thing you notice is the smell. A thick coppery tang, it almost seems to cake the inside of your nasal passage, overburdening your senses. You think you know what it is—it can’t be though, right? Why would it be?—but you can’t be sure without your sight.

And then you hear something…dripping. Whatever it is, it isn’t far. Few feet, maybe. It seems to be low, which means the source of the sound isn’t coming from the ceiling, where you would suspect. Possibly a desk. Perhaps someone spilled a drink?

Everything happens quickly, within split seconds of one another, and it’s only then you’re acutely aware you’re still being pinned by a faceless assailant, and that whoever it is is breathing against your neck, their breath rife with the same copper stench of the surrounding room. You make a pathetic, mewling sound, your muscles pulled tighter than a snare drum over your trembling frame.

“I can hear the blood coursing through your veins,” murmurs the phantom voice. Then, a dark chuckle. “Fear makes it taste better. Lucky for you, I just fed.”

You feel a shift in your bodies as he manipulates you into a position more advantageous for him, lining his pelvis up with yours. You feel the hard pressure of his erection prodding at your center, dragging your seam through your thin leggings. You relinquish a small sound, one that sounds more gratuitous than you intend it to be, your core throbbing at the sensation in spite of—or perhaps as a consequence of—the spikes of fear and adrenaline currently threading their way through you.

“Did someone like that?” the voice chuckles. You feel the sharp hook of his nose press against the flesh of your neck, skimming along your pulse point. He groans salaciously and rolls his hips against yours, your own utterance of pleasure reverberating your lungs and dying in the meat of the palm still clamped over your mouth. Fuck, this shouldn’t feel good, it shouldn’t, it shouldn’t, but it does—

—it’s the fear, you think. Your mind is trying to help you cope by flooding your body with endorphins. That has to be it. It must be…

“I can smell your blood, sweetheart. Smells so fucking sweet and intoxicating,” he asserts, his tone heady and full of longing. “Never smelled any like yours before. What is your blood type?”

His hand moves away from your mouth, sliding down to circle the underside of your jaw. “Make a sound and I’ll snap your neck like a toothpick,” he warns. Max knows he isn’t above fucking a corpse. Hell, he is a corpse.

You could scream now if you wanted, and you most definitely should. But in spite of yourself, you don’t. You know as well as anyone there’s no one in the building who can save you. And even if there were, they’d never make it in time; the firm press of his hand against your jawbone confirms your suspicion that his threat is anything but idle. You vaguely remember your crisis training and know that compliance is key to survival in hostage situations, if that’s what this is.

“AB negative,” you answer, your voice quavering. Hot tears collecting along the rims of your eyes. “R-rarest… rarest blood type,” you finish.

Max grins and pulls back to study your face. Unlike you, he doesn’t need light to see, his supernatural senses honed now that he’s grown accustomed to using them. He recognizes you as the pretty face from downstairs, the first and last he used to see every work day. Although not so much lately; not since the shift and that pesky allergy to sunlight that would render him to a pile of ash if he tempted it.

“Excellent,” he croons, licking a slow stripe along your neck, simultaneously drunk on the blood in his belly that is making his head swim, and the way he can feel your artery pulsing under his tongue.

“Maybe I’ll have a taste anyway. Always room for dessert, right?” His hand travels from your jaw to the curve of your waist, then to your thigh, where he grabs your leg to hitch it up against him, slinking you around himself so he can deepen the angle of his erection against your core. He needs to be inside you sooner than later, the high of his recent kill making him insatiable.

You let out a sob. It isn’t exactly loud and you hope it isn’t enough to get you killed, but you can’t help it, panic now taking the wheel. A taste of what? Your blood? Does he think he’s a fucking vampire?

You’re definitely the kind of weird girl to believe such things—vampires, aliens, ghosts and the lot. But now that it actually appears to be happening, you’re paralyzed with disbelief, your heart telling you there’s no other logical explanation, but your brain not wanting to accept.

“Shhhh, shhh. Quiet now. I’m going to turn on the light so you can see. And again, you will not make a sound. Right?” he implores.

“R-right,” you mumble, your tongue feeling like a dead lump of flesh in your mouth. “W-won’t make a sound,” you promise.

“That’s a good girl,” he praises, flicking on the switch that you discover is only inches from where your head meets the door, reminding you that you could have turned it on at any point yourself.

You bring a hand up to shield your eyes from the onslaught of luminescence and Max does the same, his eyes far more sensitive than your own. You adjust faster than he does, your gaze already pointed at his chest as your hand lowers, and the first thing you notice is the smattering of blood adorning his suit, staining his white dress shirt. He’s wearing a green tie for Saint Patrick’s Day and you can’t help but think grimly that it looks like some sort of macabre version of Christmas.

Only after you gather your bearings do you allow yourself to look around fully and what you’re met with is nothing short of a horror show. A lifeless man is draped across Max’s desk, both arms displaced from his body, tendrils of sinew dangling gracelessly from the sockets where his arms should be. A gaping chasm decorates his chest which is devoid of a heart as far as you can tell. A smaller but similar impression is found in the stem of the man’s neck, which you deduce is the source of the dripping you heard, the shape and jagged edges of the wound indicative that Max took more than a generous bite out of him.

Rivulets of blood stream down the sides of the desk, collecting in a puddle which is still slowly spreading dark vermillion across the tiled floor. You inhale sharply, your tears flowing freely, thinking to yourself how you’ve never seen this much blood in your entire life. How you may be next.

You will yourself to look at the man’s face. You recognize him from earlier when he’d come up to you in the lobby to ask for directions to Max’s office. His eyes are glazed open in a perpetual loop of his final moments, his jaw slack, mouth ajar in a silent scream. Your stomach turns and you release another sob that you’ve been holding in your chest, but you don’t dare make any other sounds lest Max rips you asunder.

You find one arm on the floor next to the desk, your gaze pulling directly to it. Your eyes search with urgency for the second one, as there are very few places it could possibly be, but you don’t find it on visual inspection alone.

Max forces your visage back to his, black and endless as they scrutinize you. His face is streaked in blood, a goatee of red flowing down from his curved lips, which is splayed into a tilted smirk. You sniffle, your chest shuddering with effort as you attempt to collect your breath and your faculties.

“He wanted to pull his account from our company,” Max explains with a shrug, waving a hand dismissively. “There were some…choice words exchanged. Things escalated. I was hungry. It worked out.”

Max drags you backwards, twirling you toward the wall opposite the door as he releases you, turning the lock behind him. You swallow, dread hammering hard in your chest, doing all you can to regulate your pulse rate but easily failing, pinpricks of sweat breaking out on your skin.

You’ll make it through this. You’ll make it out alive. You won’t end up another meal for this… vampire, incubus, deranged cannibal. Whatever he is.

He steps forward, slipping out of his jacket and waistcoat, discarding them in the bin in the corner. They’re ruined, anyway.

“Fear makes…everything better,” Max intones, giving you a cursory once over as he licks his lips. “On both sides.”

He begins rolling up his sleeves on each arm, pinning them at the elbow, revealing a twin set of thick, toned forearms. His tie is last, which he removes deftly, stepping closer to you to loop it around your neck. You shrink away, or try to, your backside bumping against a cabinet. Max laughs when he effectively corners you again, your mingled scents driving him to madness, threatening to turn him into some sort of savage beast; he can smell the fear being excreted from your adrenal gland, the heady arousal pooling amid your thighs, the invigorating scent of blood pulsing in your veins. It’s enough to make any vampire crazy.

He cinches the tie around your neck, wrapping the other end around his fist. He knows he could use his mind control powers to will you into submission, but there’s no sport in that. No challenge. He prefers when it feels more like a game of cat and mouse and so far, you were being plenty acquiescent, stunned into submission like a timid little dormouse. He can’t help but wonder what you’d let him do to you. How far you would go.

He pulls you against him using the necktie for leverage, causing you to stumble into his chest. He can feel how hard your nipples are underneath your green blouse. You hate how much your body is betraying you right now.

“Taste,” Max quietly commands, lifting his fingers to your lips, the digits still slick with the drying blood of his victim. You whimper and shake your head, tilting away from him.

“N-no, please,” you beg. “Anything but that.”

“Anything? That’s a dangerous proposition, dollface,” Max tuts, smirking crookedly.

“I don’t think I c-can,” you reiterate, shaking like a leaf in his grasp. “I can’t.”

“Sure you can. It’s easy. And it tastes fucking amazing.” He places his fingers against your soft lips. “Open. Now.”

You ultimately resign yourself, knowing you shouldn’t fight him. You’ve seen what he can do—did do—the last thing you need is to antagonize him further. Your lips part softly for him and his fingers delve into your mouth, pressing down against your tongue.

You note the distinct coppery tang of blood right away and it makes you gag, sending you into an inadvertent coughing fit, your own hands pushing Max’s away before you’re aware you’re even doing so, more tears crowding your eyes. If it was your own blood or Max’s, you’re sure you could handle it. But knowing where it came from is enough to make you want to wretch. And you almost do.

Max chuckles, shaking his head at how easily you succumb to your pathetic human morals. “Not good?” he asks.

“Tastes like…rusty pennies,” you spit, swiping at your tongue in anguish to get the taste out of your mouth. In your peripheral, you can almost see the dead man’s eyes watching you. Rightfully judging you.

Max grins, musing over how easily he can make you fall apart, but satisfied that he got you to try, which is good enough for him. For now, at least. “Suit yourself. More for me,” he says with a flourish of his shoulders, licking the remnants of blood from his fingers. “Tastes like the best fucking drink I’ve ever had. I bet you taste even better, though.”

He’s pushing into you again, tightening the tie a few more inches until it’s just barely flush against your throat. His words go straight to your core, his nostrils flaring when he smells more arousal creeping into your panties.

His hand coils tighter around the other end of the necktie, a wry grin playing on his features. He studies you, memorizing all the different shades of your eyes; the curvature of your lips, of your soft cheeks. “I should make you my pet. Would you like that? Being a pet for a vampire?” he asks, his free hand cupping your cheek. “I would like that.”

You attempt a nod. You don’t dare say no. Part of you thinks you would like it, though. But the killing? The constant slew of bodies? You aren’t sure you could get used to that.

“That’s what I thought,” Max muses with a small puff of air from his lips, his opposite hand traversing the curves of your body at a agonizingly leisurely pace.

His hand finds your sex, fingers stroking along your folds through the cloth of your leggings. He can feel you’re soaked through already. His mouth dips to your neck, tongue trailing your pulse point, eager to taste you, but allotting you ample time to get used to the feeling of him there. His teeth tease across your pebbled skin, but he doesn’t clamp down yet, his vampire canines still tucked away for now.

He notices the way your muscles tense and your heart flutters each time his teeth graze, anticipating being bitten, being fed on. He wishes he hadn’t already gorged himself on some jerkoff right before you showed yourself at his door—you would have made a far more delicious meal than this guy. Not that he would have given you the same treatment. Unlike the corpse still cooling on his desk, he’d rather keep you around for future feedings and other forays.

“My pet likes this, doesn’t she?” he coos, nipping at the delicate intersection of your neck and shoulder with his human teeth, causing you to jump. He chuckles. “Relax, baby.”

There’s a sudden tight pull in your lungs, an inexplicable rush of air, and you start to panic when it feels like you can’t breathe, the oxygen punched out of your lungs. Everything goes static and you almost black out, the edges of the room slowly blotting away but then quickly coming back into focus, and you feel an inexplicable chill roll up your spine as a blast of cold air stings your skin.

There are two fingers tapping at your entrance and you look down in time to see Max’s thick digits sinking deep into you, all the way down to the meat of his hand. It occurs to you that you’re completely naked, your clothes discarded into a hasty pile on the floor. You look at Max with a quizzical expression, but before he can answer, your head is rolling back to brush the wall as he furls said fingers inside of you, slowly pumping, a moan departing your lips.

“Super speed. Comes in handy sometimes,” Max explains with a low chortle. “You get used to it.”

If there were any doubts before that Max could be a vampire, you definitely have none now. Unless you’re going insane, which is a very real possibility at this point, there is no other logical explanation for how expeditiously he was able to get you undressed.

He continues to fuck you slowly with his fingers, watching the way your expression transitions from horror to pleasure, your mouth dropping open in a small “O”.

He can tell by your scent that you haven’t been with any other men recently, indicating that you most likely don’t have a regular suitor in your life. He would be right, your last boyfriend out of the picture for several months now. That’s a good thing, because Max doesn’t do competition.

“Would you like to know the other ways it’s useful? My super speed?” Max questions, curving his fingers into a spot that makes your body roll into an arch against him.

“Y-yeah,” you stutter. “Please.”

It’s fucked that you’re enjoying this. Max is a killer who’s cloaked in another man’s blood. Said man wasn’t particularly kind to you—was in fact, curt and rude—but that doesn’t mean he deserved such a fate.

Whatever conflict you’re currently having over the whole ordeal hastily disperses when it’s almost like Max switches on a vibrator between your legs, the edges of his arm blurring away, an exquisite tingle pooling amid your thighs, spreading through your abdomen.

Max doesn’t use his advanced speed often as it takes a lot out of him to do so. Vampires were not as invulnerable as everyone perceived them to be, so he only used it when it was its most advantageous, such as now.

Your head droops forward to rest on his shoulder, blood and all, biting back a moan between your teeth. You think he’s probably even better than your vibrator back home, as you can’t recall something ever making you feel this good.

He lifts your eyes back to him and bites down against the side of your neck—once again only human teeth, which still hurt by all accounts—your muscles clamping down around him with a whimper. You feel the familiar stirring growing low in your core, and you know your orgasm is not far off.

“Max—“

“That’s it, sweetheart. Quiet now. Cum for me. Cum for me, but don’t make a sound.”

His eyes are dark, brow pushed down into a stern line. They bore holes straight through your soul, unmoving from your face as he watches you. You close your eyes to concentrate on the impending orgasm and he snaps the tie against your neck, making you gasp, bringing you back to the present.

“Don’t take your eyes off of me.”

His thumb finds your clit, anchoring itself there and that does it, the coil inside of you unfurling, euphoria peaking as you struggle to keep your sounds to a lower pitch.

And then a not-so-recognizable sensation overtakes you and you’re suddenly gushing around his fingers, your eyes going wide with shock as you realize what is happening, knowing you’ve never done that before, you never knew it was something you could do.

“Messy little thing,” Max muses, fingers slipping free with another rush of fluids that trickle down your inner thigh.

Mind somewhat foggy now with over exertion, he can’t help but think how much it was worth it as he tastes you on his fingers.

He hikes your leg up once more, wrapping it around his waist like a belt as he undoes his pants, pulling himself free. His cock springs forward, rock hard and twitching eagerly, flaring red at the tip, more than ready to bury himself in your depths.

You can’t stop your eyes from wandering and you marvel at his size, swallowing in anticipation of it, but your gaze quickly whips back to his when he tugs harshly on the tie.

“Eyes stay up here, dollface.”

He swipes the head of his shaft through your folds, gathering your slick. He admires the cluster of stars you have tattooed on your inner thigh, dragging a thumb over it. An impulsive thing you did as soon as you turned eighteen simply because you could.

You notice as you watch him that Max also has a tattoo—a small bullseye no bigger than a dime on the side of his left hand.

“My pet needs a new name,” he hums as he aligns himself with your entrance. “How about Star? Would you like that?”

You nod in affirmation. “S-star, yes. I like it.”

Max grins. That wide, self-important grin retained from his former self, blood still staining his lips and chin. “Good. Because if you’re a good little pet, that is what you will be. My Star.”

He starts to push into you, slow at first so you get used to the stretch of him, and then snapping forward the last inch or so, sinking until his hips slot against yours. He lets out a groan that sounds almost demonic in its ardor, causing your heart to skip a beat or several.

“I can…hear your blood…moving. Fucking hot,” he growls.

The first thing you notice about Max as he begins thrusting inside of you is how cold he feels. Not ice cold, but for sure not the warm bodies you’re used to sharing yourself with. Oddly enough, you kind of like it.

You wrap one hand around his neck to steady yourself as he ruts into you. He isn’t going any faster than you’re used to, but that’s probably for the best. If he went even half as fast as he did with his arm, he might actually rip you in half.

You’re the first human Max has been with since the change. He missed it, the warmth of it. Sex with other vampires was too cold, both physically and psychologically, too cunning and dispassionate. He much prefers this, the warmth of your skin sinking into his, making him feel almost like his mortal self again; your little moans and mewls of passion bringing out the monster in him.

You have to hide your face in his chest to muffle all the various sounds of being fucked you’re making, which he surprisingly lets you do without retribution this time, each thrust of his hips jerking you halfway up the wall, the cloth of his nice dress shirt damp from blood, not sweat. Strangely enough, there is no sweat aside from your own, his skin smooth as porcelain.

He slants his hips to deepen the angle inside of you, causing you to whimper louder than intended, his hand tightening around your hip, bruising. If not for the previous expenditure of his energy and the fact he was going easier on you than usual, he could do this all night and then some. You’re making him absolutely ravenous and his self-control not to taste you is waning by the minute.

He pins you in place with the span of his body, increasing the speed and power of his thrusts, and within seconds your walls start to clamp around him, another orgasm building low in your belly.

“That’s it, Star. Cum for me. Cum on my cock,” he beckons.

His face tilts to your neck, aquiline nose nuzzling in the small hollow at the back of your jaw, the soft area that bridges your neck and throat. Grazing his teeth over the warmth of your skin, the heat of your pulsating artery.

The feel of his teeth dragging your skin, teasing, testing, making you clench, and then you’re cumming again with a muted whimper lost in the wide breadth of his chest. You feel his mouth part against your skin as you come undone, a sharp pain suddenly blooming hot in the muscle of your neck.

You feel liquid pooling in the dip of your collarbone, and you realize that Max is feeding on you, sharp canines sinking deep into your neck, tongue laving across your skin with a deep, guttural groan as he feasts upon you. The sounds he’s making are lascivious and lewd, sending a fresh new wave of arousal through you despite your panic, amplifying your orgasm.

Lips still locked to your neck as he feeds, Max’s hips stutter and then draw to a halt when he begins to spill himself inside of you, unable to fully contain himself now that he’s gotten a taste, an unholy, inhuman roar erupting from him so terrifying in its potency that you nearly scream.

Max pulls his face away, lips dark and shiny with a fresh coat of blood as he looks down at you, half-cocked grin playing there. There’s something unsettlingly alluring about it.

You begin to sob softly, you can’t help it, your adrenaline and endorphins dwindling now that all is said and done.

“Shhhh, my Star. It’s okay. You’re okay. You did so well for me,” he consoles, tracing your cheek with the back of his hand.

You see his fangs now, which you’re positive weren’t there before, sharp and pointed and slicked in red. He pricks a finger on one of them and squeezes it, blood beading at the end of his fingertip. He smears it over the punctures in your neck, and you feel a small tickle as they close up almost instantaneously.

And then you see his teeth retract, not dissimilar to a cat’s claws. There one second and gone the next.

He leans forward to clean up any remaining traces of blood, gently pulling you off of him. “See? Good as new,” he says with a wink.

“W-what do I do now?” you ask with a tremble in your voice. You start fidgeting with the tie to see if he’ll let you take it off. He cocks his head curiously.

“You stay with me,” he explains. “You’ll live with me. I’ll take fabulous care of you, my pet, don’t worry.”

“C-can I take this off?”

He shrugs. “Sure.”

You take it off and hand it to him, although it’s stained beyond usefulness, so he tosses it to the floor. He bends to gather your clothes, meticulously redressing you, placing a small kiss to your neck where he fed.

“You taste so fucking good, Star,” he pines with a stretch, sucking air through his teeth. “Best I’ve ever tasted. Now that I’ve had you, I’ll never be sated.”

He wraps his arms around your torso in an uncharacteristically tender embrace, skimming his lips along the shell of your ear. “Sleep, now,” he whispers, and you slip away just like that, Max lowering your now-limp body to the floor as he tucks his discarded jacket under your neck.

——

When you wake up—you don’t know how many minutes or hours later—Max is standing over you. Your eyes dart about the room and the man’s body and every trace of him is gone, as if he never existed. Max offers you a hand to help you up and you take it.

“What time is it?” you ask.

“Just before sunrise. It’s too late to leave. You can call in today and I’ll keep you hidden in my office.”

You frown. Calling in after St. Paddy’s Day isn’t a good look, but what other choice do you have? You just hope you don’t lose your job.

“Okay,” you reply, nodding your head in confirmation. “And at the end of the day?”

“We wait until sun down,” Max begins with a grin, “and then we go home.”

[darkenedreaper]

Hi, I read a couple of your Ripley x Reader fanfictions and suffice to say it's pretty much the only fanfiction out there that is actually good!! (we don't talk about the Ripley x Male Xenomorph fanfictions... it's not worth it, guys)

I was wondering if you'd write a Ripley x F!Reader around the scene where Ripley, Hicks, and Newt are escaping the xenomorphs after they fall in through the ceiling and they're running away, and then Newt falls down the air shaft (?) and Ripley and Hicks are running (y'know the scene: SHE'S ALIVE, SHE'S ALIVE)

Anyway thanks!! Hope you're having an amazing day and thanks for all the fanfiction you've written so far!

(let's just take a moment to appreciate all of the mother ripley scenes where she gave Jonesy and Newt kisses and me wishing I was simultaneously Jonesy and Newt. also the 'close your eyes baby' was literally the sweetest thing ever)

Hello darling, thank you for your kind words regarding my writing, I love writing for Ripley and there truly isn't enough. Hope you enjoy.

I Believe You

Pairing: Ellen Ripley x F!Reader

Warnings: Slight angst, fluff

Summary: The sudden attack from above of the Xenomorphs puts distance between Ripley and Newt, will it put distance between you and Ripley?

A/N: If you don't love Ripley, don't talk to me.

You and Ripley were closely huddled together whilst Gorman stood to your right with Burke hiding like the coward he was in the corner. All that could be heard was the low and distant hum of vents, the tracking device bleeping away signalling the distance of a target, the loud buzzing of the welding machine, and the heavy breaths that were shared between you all.

The two welding machines that were held by Vasquez and Hicks were sealing the door shut, preventing entrance from any threat. The machines sent off sparks which caused Ripley to pull Newt behind her warning her; "Don't look at the light". As she pulled Newt behind her, she lightly tugged on your sleeve, checking you were still beside her as she didn't look up from her tracking device. You held you gun like you were standing at ease, and you took the opportunity to wipe the dripping sweat from your forehead, you took a long at Ripley's tracking device watching the blue blips on screen close in the distance, forcing you to tell Hicks; "Come on Corporal hurry it up", "I know", he replied with a struggle to quicken the welding machine. After hearing the panicked Hudson you tried to hurry Vasquez, "Come on Vasquez, you too", "I know", she retorted back, a few seconds later they both sprinted backwards from the welded door.

Hudson was frantically reading the decreasing distance between all of you in the room and the Xenomorphs, "6 metres!", Ripley looked up and you and shoved the tracking device towards you to show you, "That can't be that's right inside the room". You both got your guns at the ready, Hicks, Vasquez, and Gorman doing the same, Burke trotting backwards to an area aware from the door. The only noise that could be heard was the blipping noise from the device and the panting noises that came from you all. You used your voice with a low tone, "Remember, short controlled bursts". Newt kept a tight hold of the back of Ripleys pants.

As the blue blips on the tracking device closed in and on top of you Hicks accused Hudson of not reading it right. You tried shaking the device and out the corner of your eye you saw Ripley lift her head up towards the ceiling. Before you could ask she nudged your arm and pointed towards the ceiling, the rest caught on to what she was getting at. "Oh my god", Hicks said with a quiver in his voice. Hudson and Vasquez held him steady on the chair. If Ripley could grab onto you she would, instead she held the gun at the ready, you did the same, making sure to stay a step in front of Ripley and Newt. You all waited in anticipation before Hicks fell down screaming, the Xenomorphs crashing and jumping down.

The violent and hurried shootout began. Hudson was giving them his all, Vasquez was at the front line gunning down more and more Xenomorphs. You and Ripley stood close and shielded Newt whilst shooting any threat in sight. Ripley took Newt and ran to the door where Gorman was frantically elbowing as Burke had locked himself in. As Hudson went down screaming and appeared to be swallowed up by the floor, Hicks and Vasquez ran to his aid, unable to save him. Hicks ran past you and to Gorman, Ripley and Newt, where he'd make his attempt to open the door. "Burke, open this door!", Ripley shouted pounding on it.

You and Vasquez were eliminating the Xenomorphs, almost relishing at the sound if their screams as acid exploded from them. Ripley ran from the now unlocked door and grabbed onto your shirt pulling you with her, you shouted to your partner at the frontline, "Vasquez!-", "Go!", Vasquez cut you off and so you ran alongside Ripley, following her and Newt into the vents, Ripley still having a tight hold onto you.

It looked as if a big wheel was turning with water dripping down it, you helped Ripley over before passing her to Newt. Shortly later as Newt was crossing before she took Ripleys outstretched hand, there was an explosion, causing a rumble throughout the vented area and with a shriek scream Newt fell down. "No! Y/N get her!", Ripley pleaded. As quick as you could, you jammed your gun into the turning wheel and threw yourself across and grabbed a hold of Newts sleeve, "I got you Newt hold on", you said to the girl before her and Ripley screamed as Newt fell down once more. Ripley had started to shout after her but you picked her up and grabbed her arm forcing her to look at your hand, "Come on Rip we can track her with this".

Ripley took a few seconds to stare deeply into your eyes, the both of you breathing deeply, the sweat running down both of your faces. She looked into your eyes and she was reminded of your kindness and help in the midst of literal chaos, anything to keep her happy, you'd do. You snapped her our of your trance and told her to climb up, heading towards Newts location. You ran hand in hand, both pairs of eyes scanning everywhere for anymore Xenomorphs. All you had to hand was a handgun, the tracking device and the welding gun the Vasquez had thrown to you.

"Down here! I'm down here!". You both rushed towards the direction of the little girls voice but Ripley left you in the dust when she saw her little fingers wiggling through the bars. You and Ripley dropped to your knees and you took out the welding gun, Ripley knew she wouldn't have to tell you what to do and so instead she watched you and comforted Newt, "Climb down honey, we'll have to cut through". You were going as quickly as the damned thing would let you cut through steel and you called out to Ripley over the noise of it, "Check the tracking device, we've gotta be careful with the noise outta this thing". Ripley looked at you and grabbed the device, eyeing up the new blue blips that appeared on screen, "Y/n... somethings here". You didn't answer Ripley instead you placed your hand down on the already cut down trying to force them down whilst still cutting with the the other hand.

Newt was drenched in the water down below, holding on to her plastic doll, she too heard the blipping and became more aware of her surroundings. Ripley watched as the blue blips were now closing in on Newt. "Y/n hurry", Ripley panicked. "Fuck!", you called out, "there's no time, help me!", you shouted to Ripley as you threw the welding machine to the side and started kicking the bars, As soon as Ripley caught sight of the Xenomorph towering over Newt, she started stomping, finally breaking through when the water was disturbed and Newts scream as now distant.

You both panted and Ripley held onto your knee as she peeked down calling for Newt, as soon as she saw Newt was gone she tried to climb down, only to be pulled back by you, "No!... No!". It was a struggle to pull Ripley back up to eye level but you got her and had to fight to keep her close to you and not let her run off. You tried calling her to calm down, "Ripley! Ripley!". "They don't kill you, they don't kill you she's alive! You know what happened to Kane!" The distraught woman brought back the memories of you old friend and crewmate Kane and his death.

She was right. They take you and cocoon you. Death is only certain when a facehugger attaches itself to you. "She's alive Y/n I'm telling you!", "Alright! Alright Ripley, I believe you she's alive!". She simmered down after your response to her pleads and she looked up into your eyes. You believed her. Of course, you've always believed her... and trusted in her. You were the only one to back her up when Vasquez and Hudson doubted hers and yours fight with the Alien on the Nostromo. Your voice that soothed her, and brought her back down to earth providing her with reassurance, "I believe you, but we've gotta go. Now. Come on." You pulled her up by her arms and she took your hand and ran along with you, both of you following the tracking device; only our way to save Newt.

[url-is-under-construction]

𝐒𝐮𝐫𝐯𝐢𝐯𝐨𝐫 | 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟐 ~ 𝐃.𝐇 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

Just a little idea that’s been in my head for a while :)

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 2.4K

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Um? Aliens? Bad language? Bad writing?

𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐒𝐲𝐩𝐧𝐨𝐬𝐢𝐬: There was nothing left, no one left. No one but you and the shy little girl you had learnt to love as a daughter. The two of you were surviving, praying to god that the company would rescue you, not realizing that it would only bring more danger, and introduce you to some of the most important people of your life.

You and Newt followed the marines through what remained of the complex, keeping her close to you and flinching at every small sound.

Your footsteps were echoing dangerously loudly through the desolate corridors, and you couldn’t help but shudder at the thought of them knowing exactly where you were, and you were sure that by now they did.

Between the misfires, footsteps and terrible attempts at whispering, you were just a herd of lambs waiting for the slaughter, helpless and afraid.

“This is it.” A voice from the front of the group said as you reached Operations.

Your grip on Newts shoulder tightened as the door slid open with a hiss, and everyone was quickly ushered inside.

“Right.” A man said, smaller and far less intimidating then the others. “I need a medic for the survivors, and I want to speak with them when they’ve been cleared to see if we can find out what happened here. Ripley, you stay with them-” You noticed some of the soldiers rolling their eyes as he spoke, and the man who had helped you up let out a small chuckle. -”The rest of you are going to be with me and Apone.”

The marines lazily followed the man and ‘Apone’ towards the other side of the room, surrounded by computers and screens that probably wouldn’t even be any help.

A woman approached you and Newt with a somewhat sympathetic smile. “Who wants to go first?”

Newt’s eyes widened, scared, and you took a small step forward, silently letting the woman know that you’d be going first.

She gestured towards an empty desk and you were able to push yourself up onto it with a bit of struggle, only now realizing how much muscle you had lost since all of this began.

The woman began a standard medical exam as Ripley stood not too far behind her, placing a supportive hand on Newt’s shoulder as she watched you with wide eyes, observing the way the woman checked your eyes, ears, mouth and heart rate amongst other things.

“You’re physically fine, so there’s nothing to worry about there.” The woman said to you, taking a step back for you to push yourself up off the desk. “Have you got a name?”

You hesitated, wondering if you should trust these people. You knew they had been sent to rescue you, but they also had no idea what they were dealing with, and they had been sent by the company.

Ripley nodded encouragingly at you, and you opened your mouth, struggling to find the words. You and Newt had learnt to communicate either silently or as quietly as possible, and your throat was already aching from shouting earlier.

“Y/n.” You croaked out. “Y/n L/n.”

“Y/n.” Ripley repeated, and you nodded. “It’s pretty.”

“Thank you.” You mumbled as the other woman gestured for Newt to come forward. “It’s ok sweetie.” You said when you noticed how hesitant she was. “She just wants to make sure you’re nice and healthy.”

Newt slowly made her way forward, and you felt concern and worry rise in your chest as the marine picked her up and sat her on the desktop you hand just been on. After everything you’d been through together, you thought of Newt as a baby sister, or daughter even, and the only person you truly trusted with her was yourself.

Newt’s medical exam began, and a voice from behind you caused you to jump.

“Update?”

It was the same man from earlier, the one you had seen the marines rolling their eyes and snickering at.

“Hello to you too Gorman.” The medic smiled tightly at him. “The older one, Y/n, seems to be as healthy as she could be given the situation. I still have to check over the child though.”

“Good.” Gorman said, looking over towards you. “Now ma’am, Y/n, if you wouldn’t mind following me, we’ll get you something to eat and drink, and ask you a few questions.”

You looked over to Newt, wanting to stay with her, but the other part of you knew that you didn’t want to discuss all of this with Newt around. She had been exposed to so much, but she was still a child and it was your job to keep her as shielded as possible from it all now, keeping what remained of her innocence intact.

“Go.” Ripley said to you, with kind eyes. “I’ll watch her, make sure she’s safe until you get back.”

Something about the way she said it reassured you, and after a moment of hesitation you nodded.

“Ok.” You looked at Gorman, and he gestured toward the marines, who had all spread out by now and were doing their own tasks. “Follow me.”

The two of you walked through the Operations room, and you felt stares as you followed Gorman to a small group of about three marines who were seated by the door to what looked like a break room.

“Any requests?” He asked, throwing a glance towards the break room.

You felt your mouth begin to salivate. You hadn’t drank anything but dirty water for the past few weeks, and you almost forgot that other beverages existed.

“Coffee?” You asked in a tiny voice, sounding far more broken and defeated than it had when they had found you.

When they had first found you they had seen the hard exterior you had to put on to survive, a woman who would do anything and everything to keep herself and Newt safe, a woman who you wouldn’t even recognize in the mirror. Now they saw the real you; the you that came out when Newt was sleeping and you were crying silently beside her, mourning what your lives had once been.

This you was a broken shell of the past you, merely a weak, exhausted twenty year old woman whose life had been snatched away from her far too early.

“Hicks?” Gorman asked, taking a seat at the desk. “Fancy making the lady a coffee?”

You cast your eyes over to Hicks as he let out a small sigh, and felt your breath hitch in your throat as you realized you had finally put a name to the handsome face who had helped you up.

“No problem.” He said, looking at you instead of Gorman. “C’mon.”

You followed him into the break room, feeling guilty as he pulled out a mug and made his way to the coffee machine.

“Sorry.” You said quietly, surprised if he’d even be able to hear you.

“For what?” His eyebrows furrowed and he turned his head to look at you, seemingly shocked that you were apologizing.

“Well this isn’t exactly your job is it?” You asked, and you winced at your raspy voice. “Making coffee for rescued colonists?”

He let out a small chuckle, in turn causing you to smile, something you hadn’t done in a long, long time.

“No, I can’t say it is. I’d rather be in here with you then out there with Gorman though.” He said, turning on the coffee machine and fiddling around with it.

It was your turn to let out a small laugh.

“Yeah he doesn’t seem to be too popular around here. Can’t imagine why.”

Hicks exhaled sharply through his teeth. “Well if you need help we made a list last night.”

You laughed again, wrapping your arms around yourself. Laughing felt foreign to you after having gone so long without it. There wasn’t much to smile at in this miserable joint, let alone laugh at, and it felt strange to you.

“I don’t even wanna know if that’s true or not.” You shook your head as the two of you waited for the coffee machine to finish.

A comfortable silence fell over the small room, and you found yourself closing your eyes, pretending it was normal for just a few seconds.

“So.” Hicks said, pulling you out of the fantasy and causing your eyes to snap open. “Why, if you don’t mind me asking, were you so afraid?”

You tilted your head, confused.

“What do you mean?”

“When we first found you.” He elaborated. “You know that we’re here to help, right?”

You let out a sigh and ran a hand through your greasy hair.

“Look, no offense Hicks, but you were sent here by the company. I don’t exactly trust the guys up there if you know what I mean.” You said, peering out the door at a civilian looking man wearing a suit, who had obviously been sent by Weyland Yutani. “I think I’d be better off surviving on my own than trusting them.”

He just nodded, taking your words in before the coffee machine beeped, interrupting.

He poured the hot liquid into the mug and handed it to you. A small smile appeared on his face as he watched you gently blow on it and take your first sip of coffee in weeks.

“Beautiful.” You said with your eyes closed, savoring the taste.

He let out a small chuckle, and the two of you headed out of the room, joining Gorman and the others at the desk.

You took an empty seat and placed your coffee on the desk, missing the warmth from your hands.

“Ok Y/n,” Gorman said, jumping straight to the point. “Let’s start from the beginning.”

You let out a shaky breath and jammed your hands into the pockets of your thin jacket.

“Umm, well, I suppose it began when a few colonists were sent out to some coordinates. No one really knows what happened out there, they kept everything confidential, but when they came back...” You trailed off, staring out the window into the wasteland, wondering where the hell that thing had come from.

“Y/n?” Gorman asked.

“Sorry.” You let out an unsure chuckle. “Uh, yeah. They came back with this, this thing wrapped around the face of one of them, and uh, he kinda just went straight into medical. Barely any of us colonists were aware, so when it came off he kind of just went back to his normal life, and then,” you sucked in a sharp breath and when you started to speak again your voice was shaky, “then I remember one day, he was walking through the hallway, and I had been there, walking towards him. He um, he got these chest pains or something, and the next thing we all knew he was letting out these awful, awful screams, and some- something came out of his chest.”

You looked at the faces around you, all with sympathetic expressions, silently encouraging you to go on.

“There was blood everywhere. We weren’t able to get him to a doctor in time, and he died there in front of me. The thing that came out of him though, it was shrieking, and it ran off before anyone managed to get a good look at it really.” You felt yourself choking up as you relived the horrible memories. “And since that day more and more people just started disappearing, and the people who went looking for them never returned either. Some of us wanted to fight back, tried building barricades and fighting with everything they had, others, like me hid. Newt and I are the only ones left.”

Gorman let out a deep sigh from beside you. “Shit.”

“Yeah.” You said with a sad smile on your face. Some sick and twisted part of you was happy, glad that you had managed to survive instead of dying alongside your friends and family. “Now if you’ll excuse me.” You pushed yourself up from the chair and picked up your cup of coffee. “I have to go check on Newt.”

“I’ll join you.” Gorman said.

You gave him a small nod as the two of you stood, briefly meeting Hicks’ eye before turning and walking to where you could see Ripley and Newt.

You and Gorman walked side by side towards them, watching as Ripley gently wiped Newt’s face with a cloth.

“Hi baby.” You smiled at her as you reached her, before looking at Ripley. “Thank you.”

“No problem, I was just cleaning up Rebecca’s face.” Ripley said with a comforting smile, something about it was oddly maternal and it put you at ease.

“Newt.” Came a small voice from beside you.

“What?” Ripley asked, shocked at her speaking.

“My name is Newt. Nobody calls me Rebecca, except my brother.”

Ripley smiled again.

“Newt? I like that.”

“How did you know her name was Rebecca?” You asked, tilting your head.

“Her colonist ID number was stitched into her jacket.” Ripley explained. “I got Hudson to run it through your system.”

You nodded, keeping your mouth shut. You had spoken enough today, and your throat was starting to pay the consequences.

Gorman took the cap on his head off and turned to Ripley, speaking quietly.

“Ripley, based off of Y/n’s story we believe that your alien was here too, and lots of them. Right now I’ve got Hudson scanning for PDT’s to find out where all of these colonists are, and I need you to be ready when we find them.”

“I got it.” Ripley said, giving him a tight smile as he turned and walked off.

The lieutenant made his way over to where a few marines, Hicks included, were now huddled around a computer screen.

“So who’s this, hmm?” Ripley asked Newt, picking up the doll head she had found in the trash last week.

“Casey.” Newt mumbled.

“Hello Casey.” Ripley tilted her head sideways, getting a good look at the doll. “What about your brother?” She looked back at Newt. “What’s his name?”

“Timmy.”

“Is Timmy around here too?” Ripley asked and you nudged her gently, trying to silently tell her to drop it.

Newt stayed silent.

“No.” You said. “Can we drop this now?”

“Sorry.” Ripley said quietly. “What about you guys? How did you meet?”

“We bumped into each other in an air vent.” You let out a small laugh. “We both had found food, and decided to share it, and we’ve been together since.”

“Well I’m glad the two of you managed to find each other.” She said.

“I-” You were cut off abruptly by a voice from the group of marines.

“Yo! Stop your grinnin’ and drop your linen! Found ‘em.”

Your heart stopped. Had they found the rest of the colonists?

[fanficdumbchic]

Pvt. Hudson Mocking You to Disguise That He Likes You

Headcannon - Private Hudson x Reader - SFW

Ever since your first day on a squad in the USCM, Hudson has proverbially ‘busted your balls’.

He’d make fun of your beginner mistakes or the way you stuttered when you got nervous.

You wanted to punch him and he annoyed the ever-living Christ out of you.

However, once you got over your initial beginner’s curve, you found yourself on equal footing, dogging on him just as hard.

You dogged on him for being whiny when exiting the stasis pods while you were ready to go the minute you got out.

Many of the other marines laughed with you when you called him a ‘little bitch’ during a briefing one day. Even Apone allowed it, snickering.

Vasquez often high-fived you when you stuck him with a good one.

Yet, even when you were better at it than him, he kept egging you on. He loved getting any kind of reaction from you, even if it was a sick burn. It was like he... liked it.

The banter began to change, many of the other marines remarking that you two argued like an ‘old, married couple’.

You couldn’t help but notice that for a smart ass remark or not, his attention was almost always on you.

Even Hicks would jump in, “It’s almost like you like them or something...”

That was the only time you saw Hudson shoot an angry look in response to a comment, usually being the type to laugh it off to save face.

You were starting to see the dots connect and you didn’t hate it.

You even started to comment on it, “Why are you so obsessed with me, Hudson? I’m starting to think the rumors are true...” You would say it with a sly, flirty look that made him grin.

[mrsalwayswrite]

Little Lady (Bull Randleman x Reader)

So this is based on this post by @problematicfavesareproblematic​ and my own headcannon that Bull is super chill in his relationship and doesn’t get jealous easily but will go from cuddly teddy bear to terminator in a hot second if someone hurts his girl...and this was an excuse to write some Bull & Martin friendship. 

Warnings: swearing, forced/coerced kiss, threats

Words:4400

Tag List: @happyveday​ @evelynshelby​ @saritanotserena​ @sydney-m​

"I can do it."

 "I don't mind helping."

 I rolled my eyes at Arthur but handed him the crate. "Fine, but if you drop it, I'm gonna kick your ass."

 He laughed, falling into step with me as we headed towards the supply trucks. "I would suspect nothing less from someone as fierce as you."

 "I can't decide if you're flirting or trying to start a fight." I narrowed my eyes at him, even as we walked side by side. 

 "Oh, I would never fight you...you'd kick my ass, remember?" He winked those baby blues at me, the scar on his upper lip twitching at the movement. 

 "Mmm...so you're flirting?"

 "Why? Is that a crime?"

 I sighed. This was not the first time we had this discussion and honestly, I was getting sick of it. "Arthur, you know Sergeant Randleman is my man."

 "I know. I don't know what you see in him though.  He just looks like a country hick and I..."

 "Stop," I interrupted, already knowing what he was going to say. Some flirting was fine but when someone began to question my relationship or degrade my boyfriend, then I took offense. Especially from someone I considered a friend. "We've had this discussion before and it won't change anything."

 "Fine, I just..."

 "Jesus Christ! Enough!"

 "Ok ok, shit. I'm sorry. I just want you to be happy, alright?" He mumbled. A couple minutes passed between us in a tense, awkward silence as we continued walking before he bumped me cheekily. "So, he's your man? You're not his girl?"

 "Damn right he's my man. I'm no one's girl."

 Arthur laughed and followed me to the trucks. He shoved the crate on the flatbed of the one directed too. I adjusted the other crates, making room for the ones I still needed to grab eventually. We were supposedly leaving Aldbourne soon and I had volunteered to organize our extra supplies. I liked keeping busy and being organized came easy to me. 

 Out of the corner of my eye, I could see him run his hand through his black hair, a nervous habit of his I had noticed. Soon he probably would need to get it cut. I wondered if someone in his company cut hair or if I should mention Liebgott to him. I bet for a pack of smokes Liebgott would cut it.

 His voice jolted me back from my musings as he took a step closer to me. "Some of us are going out for drinks tonight at the bar. Come join us."

 "They call them pubs here. Remember, we're in England."

 "Pubs, right. So... you coming?"

 I sighed, trying to figure out how I could nicely say no. Again. Most of the other companies did not like having a female paratrooper amongst them. More than one had gotten in my face about it, especially back in Toccoa. Now it just made sense for me to stick with Easy. 

 Arthur was one of the few exceptions. We had bumped into each other on the troopship over and next thing I knew we had been talking for hours, comparing different books, plays and films. His family was a huge advocate for the arts and it showed in his passionate rants. He also had an easy-going, if flirtatious, manner about him, always trying to make me laugh and check up on me whenever we saw each other. Though lately, he had begun making his intentions known and while flattering, I only saw him as a friend. 

 Before I could let him down again, he was frequently asking me to go to the pubs with him, I heard my name called loudly. Glancing down the road, I saw several members of Easy's First Platoon sitting or standing around a table, with most smoking or playing cards, or both. More importantly I saw HIM. 

 I could not help the stupid smile, not even paying attention as a frown appeared on Arthur’s face. "I'll see you around, Arthur." 

 Without waiting for his response, I started towards the group. Although technically they were not my platoon, they welcomed me with open arms as I frequently found myself in their company. 

 "Hey! It's our favorite Corporal!" George Luz announced, passing out a new round of cards to those at the table, a cigarette hanging between his lips. 

 "That's only cause I get cigarettes for you guys."

 "Eh, you're an angel."

 I laughed with the guys as I finally reached them. It was nice to see everyone relaxing under the shade of the large tree, finally receiving a much needed break from drills and field trainings. I did wonder where they stole the table and chairs from since I had never seen it out here before. 

 Denver "Bull" Randleman stood on the other side, watching me with a slight curve of his lips, even around the cigar. My heart skipped a beat as I met his eyes, moving around the table towards him. Automatically, he raised his arm just enough for me to slip under it. It was a practiced, almost subconscious, movement between us by now. "Hey, little lady."

 "Hey, handsome.” I smiled up at him, a wave of happiness crashing over me. A very familiar feeling whenever I was in his presence, even more so since we started a relationship.  

 "Who was that you was talking to?" Johnny Martin asked, standing on Randleman's other side. His typical scowl on his face, eyes narrowed, as he stared from me back to where I had just come from.

 "Oh, Private Arthur Cox." I supplied, not thinking much about it. 

 "From Charlie Company?" Floyd Talbert looked up from the card game. 

 "Yeah."

 "I heard from a reliable source that he's been flirting with you." Talbert continued, trading two of the cards in his hand.  

 "Is that so?" Luz looked back at me, a mischievous grin on his face. "Know anything about that?"

 "It's not a big deal. He's just friendly." I shrugged, feigning disinterest. I really did not want them to know all the things Arthur had been saying lately. 

 "Hear that, Bull! He's just friendly. You better watch your girl." Luz chuckled. 

 "Hey! I ain't his girl!" 

 Bull pulled the cigar from his mouth, giving me a small squeeze as he spoke. "It's alright, darlin'. They know I'm ya man."

 "Damn right."

 "Still, he's been talking about you." Talbert stated, tossing his cards on the table then looking over to me.

 Dammit. Why couldn't he just let this go? The others were paying far too much attention to the conversation to my liking. "He knows I'm with Bull."

 Talbert shrugged. 

 "What?" I snapped.

 "Might not be enough."

 "Tab, what are you saying? He knows I'm not leaving Bull for him." I tried to stay calm. I knew the guys were just looking out for me. They did not trust anyone who wasn't Easy. Randleman's hand slowly rubbed up and down my arm, trying to soothe me. I took a deep breath and leaned my head against his side. 

 "Maybe. He might keep trying for you though."

 "Is that what you would do?"

 "If I saw a girl I really wanted...maybe." Tab winked at me, earning a few chuckles from the group. Everyone knew Talbert was a flirt, but a respectful one. If any women were not interested, he always backed off. Though most women never said 'no' to him. 

 I groaned. "Save me from the stupidity of the male species." I mumbled to myself. 

 "He ask ya to be his girl?" Bull asked, a smirk on his face.  

 "Yeah...sort of."

 "No proposals?"

 I rolled my eyes. He just would not let me forget when a Private from Able Company dropped down on one knee and proposed two weeks ago. Bull had laughed when I told him the story, saying if they really knew me, they would know to bring chocolate. That was my biggest weakness. 

 "Not this time. He does like to compare the two of you though." I admitted, guilt tainting my voice. 

 "I ain't worried.” He winked at me. “We know ya just like me for my body."

 I patted his chest. "Don't you forget it."

 Luz threw down a winning hand, causing the others to groan and the attention to focus back on the game.

 I absent-mindedly watched the next game unfold, my mind though on Arthur. Sure, more than once he had made comments about me; and he had made even more comments about how he did not think Randleman was good enough for me. I thought it was harmless or just annoying. Now I was beginning to wonder if I should take it more seriously, if I needed to stop talking to him. If he really was gunning for me, I needed to set him straight once and for all. Right? 

 There was about a snowball’s chance in hell I would be leaving Randleman. Ever since Toccoa, we had somehow just clicked. At first it had started off as a close friendship, looking out for one another amidst the tortures heaped upon us by Sobel. When some of the other companies would cat-call or yell things at me, he always stood between us, glaring at the men until they backed down. Though I never asked him to do that. More than once I know he took matters into his own hands, or at least orchestrated it so some of the other Easy paratroopers could have their turn swinging punches to defend me...even if none of them ever admitted it later. It was not until one night that I found him at the aid station, getting his knuckles looked at by Doc Roe that he subtly admitted to seeing me as more than a friend. So logically, I kissed him right then and there. If his response said anything, he did not mind too much. After that, things just fell into place for us.

 "Hey."

 I turned my face up to meet Randleman's eyes, still tucked into his side. My favorite place to be. 

 "Ya alright?"

 "Yeah, just thinking." I slipped my hand into his and squeezed three times, letting him know I was ok.  

 "Ya want me to talk to him?"

 I smiled thinking of my boyfriend confronting Arthur. "No, it's ok. I'm sure this will blow over."

 "If you say so, little lady." He pressed a chaste kiss to my temple. It was sweet how whenever he had the chance, he always took it to affectionately touch me. A sweet kiss on the forehead here, an arm tucking me into his side there, even a gentle squeeze of my hand. A silent reassurance of his affection for me. He was not a man of romantic monologues or one-liners. Instead he always reminded me through the simple gestures. I still teased him about it occasionally and he would reply that it was damn near impossible to keep his hands to himself with how beautiful I was and how much he adored me. That always won a kiss from me, even as I blushed crimson.  

 "You tell us if he tries anything." Martin stated, drawing me back from my thoughts, wary scowl on his face. 

 I nodded. 

 "I'm serious."

 "You always are." I quipped back, earning a chuckle from Randleman. 

 Martin huffed, crossing his arms over his chest. "Why I put up with you two, I don't know."

 "You love us." I teased, fluttering my eyelashes at him. He narrowed his eyes at me but I could see the hint of a smile at the corner of his mouth. Back in North Carolina he had admitted one night I reminded him of his baby sister. When I laughed and told him she was lucky to have a brother like him, that seemed to seal our friendship. Since then he had easily stepped into the role of a big brother. 

 "C'mon, let's get some food." Bull guided me around the table, arm around my shoulders and mine around his waist. Martin followed us, walking on my other side, grumbling about how food here was shit and he missed his wife’s cooking.  

 *****

 I stared across the field at the sunset. The warm colors transitioned into the cool tones of night right before my eyes. Colors so perfect they would make even the most talented artists zealous to try and capture their beauty. I absent-mindedly wondered how much longer I would be able to appreciate the sunsets. Or would war take that away from me. 

 It is only at the call of my name did I retract my gaze from the beauty in the sky. I knew who it was by his voice. And also from the fact that all of Easy knew to leave me alone while I was watching the sunsets. I loved my boys dearly but sometimes a girl just needed to get away. I saw Arthur with his hands in his pockets standing a few paces away from me, the tips of his shaggy hair almost covering his eyes.  

 "Can I join you?" 

 I shrugged, turning back to watch the painter's sky. It seemed fate had a hand in events today. A conversation needed to happen between the two of us and here he was. Dammit. Silently, he sat next to me, our shoulders almost brushing. Several moments went by like that, both of us just staring at the first of the stars to emerge. 

 Sighing, I turned to face him, not looking forward to this conversation. "Arthur, I think-"

 His chapped lips interrupted me, slammed against my lips with an almost desperation to them. His hands cupped my face, pulling it closer to his. The sharp burn on alcohol was on his breath. I vaguely wondered if he needed liquid courage before doing this. 

 I sat there stunned for a second. I had thought he was all talk. I never would have expected...this. 

 In the next second, I tried to pull back, putting my hands on his chest for leverage. This had to be a drunken mistake. I was sure he would apologize after. Instead of releasing me, his grip on me tightened marginally and his tongue forced its way into my mouth. 

 This time, I roughly shoved him away with both hands on his chest, making him rock back and almost fall over. Before he could recover, I reared back my fist and slammed it into his eye. Pain exploded from my hand but I did not care. Anger and revulsion fueled me. How dare he?! 

 I rolled back and onto my feet putting necessary space between us otherwise I would be tempted to hit him again. He knew I only saw him as a friend. He knew I had no plans to leave Randleman. Yet he still kissed me without my consent...forced himself on me! 

 Staring wide-eyed, anger and betrayal warring within me, I watched him right himself and placed a hand over the eye I had hit. 

 "You're too good for him." In anyone else it might have sounded like begging, but from him, someone I had thought was my friend, he made it sound like he was stating a fact. "You deserve better. Please, give us a chance. I could-"

 I turned on my heel and fled before he could finish. If I heard another word from him, I would not be held responsible for my actions. Right now though, I needed Randleman. I needed comfort and someone to soothe the ache in my heart. I needed the taste of someone I did not want off my lips. The feeling of his hands erased from my memory. Of his tongue awkwardly plundering my mouth and leaving a lingering hint of beer.

 The barn door slammed open as I shoved it, not even caring about how loud it was. Most of the men should still be awake. The barn they were billeted in was nice enough. There was a cot for each person and plenty of blankets. My feet moved on autopilot, eating up the ground beneath me. I knew he would be on his cot, waiting for me to return like every night to say goodnight before I headed to the house I was billeted in.  

 "Hey! What's got-"

 Whatever Luz saw on my face immediately shut him up. A heavy silence filled the barn as I stormed over to where Bull reclined, cigar in his mouth. He slowly sat up, pulling the cigar from between his lips. Before he could say anything I pressed my lips to his in a bruising, passionate kiss. Something we NEVER did in front of others. I did not care though. I needed the taste of Arthur off my lips. I needed to trade the taste of alcohol for a cigar. 

 Soon as I released him, I felt loathing towards myself. Bile stung my throat. I just forced a kiss on him. Not to show my affection but in demand to mask the taste of another. What was wrong with me? This was the man I loved. How could I have done this to him? It was selfish. Disgust flooded me, aimed at myself and now all I wanted to do was hide and cry. 

 Panicking and without a word, I turned to step away but before I could move further, a firm grip wrapped around my wrist, holding me in place. 

 "Talk to me." He softly said in that calm drawl of his. I could not help but instantly feel some of the tension loosen inside of me. 

 Tears blurred my vision, disgust at Arthur's actions and my own. I could only stare at the ground, shaking my head. My chest was tight, throat thick with suppressed sobs. 

 "Little lady, what happened?" He asked quietly, dipping his head to try and catch my eye. 

 Martin, who had been sitting on the next cot over, spoke up. "Why are your knuckles bruised?" A second later, his voice turned hard and demanding. "Who hurt you?"

 The hand holding me, tugged me back, pulling me into his lap. Comforting warmth enveloped me as Randleman wrapped his arms around me. I laid my head on his broad chest, his heartbeat a soothing sound under my ear. I forced the treacherous tears away. This was not something I would let control my emotions. Arthur was not worth it. All this did was show his true colors. A gentle kiss on the top of my head reminded me who mattered most to me. Who promised to always have my back and never doubt me. Like I promised to never doubt him and always be there for him. He was my best friend, my lover...maybe even one day my future. 

 "He kissed me." I finally muttered, my face still buried in his chest.

 "Mmm?"

 I leaned back slightly to meet my boyfriend’s concerned gaze. "Arthur….he kissed me and said….well, it doesn't matter now."

 "So ya clocked him?" He asked.

 I nodded. 

 "Good."

 "I never thought… I didn't think he would force me and…"

 "Shhh, s'alright." He rubbed my back, holding me close. "I'll take care of it."

 I did not even question his statement, caught up in my own emotions and soaking in his comforting presence. I could not tell if I was overreacting. I felt justified to be upset and angry at Arthur. At the moment, I did not want to think about it anymore. I wanted to forget Arthur and what just happened. I just wanted Randleman, his soft touches and calming aura. 

 Above my head Randleman and Martin's gazes meet with a darkness simmering underneath. Martin nodded and got up, stalking out of the barn after telling the others to leave me alone. 

 *****

 "Heard ya kissed my girl." Randleman stated, watching the black-haired Private who had made you almost cry. An unforgivable sin in his eyes. A little flirting never bothered him, he usually found it amusing to watch their faces when they realized he was your man. He could practically see the wheels turning, questioning how someone like him could have caught himself such a beautiful, smart, talented woman like you. Often he questioned it himself but thanked his lucky stars daily for blessing him with you. 

 But when someone actively hurt you. When they made you cry. There would be hell to pay...and he had no qualms about doling out justified retribution. 

 Arthur looked over his shoulder before turning back to counting boxes next to a supply truck. "Yeah? Who told you that?"

 "She did and some of the stuff you've been saying to her." The Arkansas man chuckled. "Got a nice shiner there too."

 "So? It's true.' Arthur whipped around, eyes blazing. Though, one eye was distinctly bloodshot with a fantastic array of colors around it. "You're nothing but a redneck that can't-"

 "You're gonna need to shut the fuck up before you say another word." Martin interrupted, moving to stand next to Bull in silent support. 

 "Who the hell are you? Some bodyguard? Redneck here can't fight his own battles?"

 Martin glared, crossing his arms over his chest.

 The Private sneered. "Your grim reaper look don't scare me."

 "That's where you're wrong." Martin stated, rolling his shoulders, signature glare still in place. "I'm not the grim reaper. He's on holiday. I'm his replacement….and I don't need a sickle to beat your ass."

 "I don't need to hear this shit." Arthur tried to move around the side of the truck only to come face to face with a grinning Guarnere and smug Toye. 

 "Hi ya, cowboy."

 "Who the fuck are you two?" Arthur demanded, eyes hard and fists clenched. 

 Toye shrugged, lighting a cigarette. "Concerned citizens."

 Arthur tried to move around them but Guarnere shoved him back. 

 "Shut the fuck up, cowboy, and listen to the man before I kick your teeth in."

 "You can kick your leg that high?" Toye asked, looked over to his friend casually. 

 "You know what- shut up, Joe."

 "I'd rather see Martin go grim reaper on his ass." Toye shrugged. 

 Martin grinned wickedly. "Would be my pleasure."

 Randleman spoke up, drawing Arthur's attention back to him. "Ya stay away from my woman. I hear ya talkin' to her again, I can promise ya, they won't find ya body."

 "Are you threatening me?" Arthur drew himself up to his full height, which to most guys might have been a challenge, but he was still shorter than the taller than average Randleman. 

 With the way this jack-ass was acting, Randleman almost wished he would try and take a swing. Give him a reason to knock his arrogant ass on the ground. 

 "No, son. That's a promise." Randleman exhaled, smoke drifting lazily out of his mouth from his trusty cigar. "We'll be lettin' ya get back to work now." 

 "Run along, boy." Martin leveled a hard look at Arthur that would have even the devil himself reconsidering his options.  

 Leveling his own less-than-impressive glare, Arthur looked at the four guys that surrounded him before turning on his heel and walking away. 

 "I gotta ask." Toye started as they watched the Private leave. He turned to look at his friend. "Can you really get your leg up-"

 "Shut up, Toye, before I kick your teeth in."

 "I mean maybe Perco or Luz you could but-"

 Randleman chuckled as Guarnere tried to put Toye in a headlock. He could only hope this Arthur was smart enough to heed his warning. 

 *****

 I sat in the mess hall, well, the building that had been converted into a mess hall for the Airbourne. Randleman sat on my right, hand holding mine underneath the table. Smoky on my left was arguing across the table with Skinny about something dumb. Honestly, I had already zoned their conversation out. Further down the table, Buck was telling a story from his Rose Bowl days that had those listening in absolute stitches. 

 A smile teased my lips as I glanced around the table. Sometimes it would randomly hit me how lucky I was to be in Easy Company. They were idiots, but my idiots. Except for Bull. He would always be my man. 

 I looked up to peek at the other table of Easy boys but froze when I noticed Arthur walking down the aisle, trying to find a seat. As if feeling my gaze, he looked my way. Instead of flashing me his signature smile or a quick wink and continuing on….he glared. Anger flared in me, ready to explode once again. Our paths had not crossed since the day he kissed me, which I was infinitely grateful for. I was unsure how I would handle it if he tried to approach me. Now seeing him, all I could think of was hitting him again. I could tell the black eye I had given him was not as bright, the colors dulling into yellows instead of black and blue. There was a sense of pride that he somehow had to explain his black eye to any who asked. 

 Then I realized his glare was not aimed at me but to my right, at Randleman beside me. Confused, I glanced up expecting to see Bull listening to Buck with the corner of his lips turned up slightly in amusement. Instead he was staring back at Arthur with a stoic expression and stern eyes. My gaze darted between the two, wondering what was going on. As far as I knew, they had never spoken; though the tension radiating between the two practically screamed confrontation. After a long moment, Arthur gave a curt nod and walked on by. 

 "What just happened?" I murmured, eyeing my boyfriend. 

 "Nothin'."

 "Bull…"

 He glanced down at me, slinging his arm around my shoulders and tucking me into his side. "Told ya I'd take care of it."

 I stared expectantly, waiting for the explanation.  

 "We just came to an understandin'." He finally said. 

 "Did you threaten him?"

 His reply was a brief wink. 

 I laughed, snuggling closer into his side. 

 "I told ya, little lady. I'm ya man and I don't take too kindly to others tryin' to take my position."

 "Mmm...I think you're a keeper." After a moment, I smirked. "So I probably shouldn't tell you about the Sergeant in Dog Company who tried to give me flowers yesterday."

 "Flowers, huh?" He grinned down at me, eyes alight with mischief. "Least he's got class. What ya do?"

 "I pretended to be allergic and kept sneezing whenever he tried to talk to me after."

 He laughed, planting a kiss to the top of my head. "Do I need to start gettin' ya things too?"

 "No," I reached up to kiss his jawline, making him blush. "I just want you...and maybe some chocolate."

 "I think I can manage that, little lady."

[redhairedwolfwitch]

Hesitation - Power Rangers RPM - Tenaya 7 x Fem!Reader

Request: Can you do a Tenaya 7 x Police officer! female! reader?

A/n: A bit shabby around the edges but it’s 902 words setting up a concept that could be developed in the last few episodes of RPM

The first time Tenaya 7 saw you, you were fighting against Grinders in civilian.

“Foolish human...” Tenaya said to herself, about to attack you when you dodged her kick, kicking her back into the Power Rangers’ eyeline.

///

The first time you saw Tenaya 7, you were in your uniform alongside Colonel Truman and Corporal Hicks.

She faltered the first time she saw your face.

Venjix had programmed her with human physiology, so she needed to eat and sleep.

She assumed Venjix didn’t mean to programme her with the ability to feel attraction, especially since you were female as well.

She assumed it was a glitch or a joke that Crunch was playing and he’d messed with her programming when she was asleep.

Until she went back to conduct tests and found that there were no glitches and Crunch hadn’t actually messed with anything. She didn’t bring it up to Master Venjix though, she didn’t want to be seen as faulty when she was his most important general.

She’d just have to destroy you.

///

The next time you and Tenaya 7 met, she was determined to destroy you by any means possible.

But she made a mistake.

She hooked her fingers under your chin so you’d look at her, so she could see the life in your eyes die.

But that didn’t happen as her visor went up and she was staring into your eyes as you glared at her before softening as you saw her hesistate.

As soon as the Rangers arrived, her gay panic shifted into actual panic that you’d get hurt if they fired at her, leaving her to push you back almost gently into some boxes before moving over to fight the Black and Red Rangers as they ran over.

You didn’t know that Ziggy had seen Tenaya’s gay panic and how you had stared after Tenaya as Summer helped you up and told you to get away from where the fight was.

///

It was often that you alongside the Colonel’s Troops weren’t required in defending the dome due to the Rangers having that covered.

That left monitoring the dome and shields along with the technology of Cornith instead.

Which was code for you hadn’t seen Tenaya 7 in a while.

That didn’t mean you didn’t hear her whistling when you were on your way back from the grocery store once.

You had paper bags in your arms when you heard the familiar tune of Farmer in the Dell.

You swore under your breath about to drop your groceries when the whistling faded as Tenaya left, heading far away from you for when she would run into the Rangers again.

“What the hell?”

///

“Y’know, if you want to get Tenaya to stop for a moment, just ask the Colonel to borrow that agent she has a crush on.” Ziggy suggested as he ate a mouthful of popcorn, all of the Rangers, Dr K and the Colonel turning to face him.

“I’m sorry, what?” Scott asked as Ziggy just shrugged, staring at them.

“Tenaya has a crush on that agent, uh, y’know the girl one-” Ziggy began leaving Summer to put her hand up to shush his rambles.

“You mean Y/n?”

“Yeah, Tenaya has a thing for Agent Y/n.”

“How did you- when did you figure that out?”

“How did you come to this conclusion, Ranger Green?” Dr K asked, adding to Flynn’s question as Ziggy jumped over the table for his explanation.

“So, Tenaya is supposed to be this big bad Generation 7 Venjix Human Infiltration attack bot, right? She’s not supposed to have feelings or hesistate. She hesistated when she saw Y/n, even removed her visor to look at her properly, she even gently shoved Y/n into some boxes when we arrived on the scene so she could fight us where Y/n was no where near the fight-”

“This could just mean that she got disinterested-” Dr K began to speculate before Ziggy just waved his hand.

“She blushed.”

“What?” Scott asked, raising an eyebrow as he began to brush off what Ziggy said.

“Tenaya blushed, she was blushing when she realised she’d been staring at Y/n.” Ziggy stated, leaving Dillon to frown.

“You’re saying we could use Y/n to draw out Tenaya.” Dillon suggested, leaving Ziggy to nod, pointing at Dillon with enthusiasm.

“That is exactly what I am saying!”

///

The plan was that you’d walk around Corinth on your own during an infiltration, the Rangers dealing with the Grinders and attack bot as Dr K kept a watch on you via security cameras to see if Tenaya would be interested in you.

The audio on the security cameras picked up the whistling before either you or Dr K saw Tenaya nearby.

“Seems like Ranger Green’s plan worked-” Dr K talked to herself as she watched Tenaya approach you.

“You know who I am but you’re not afraid.” Tenaya began, leaving you to raise an eyebrow as you looked up at her.

“Should I be?”

Tenaya glared slightly at that but didn’t move or snap words back at you saying that you should be afraid. She just glanced at something behind you, leaving you to turn your head.

You turned your head back and she was gone.

///

Tenaya let out a breath as she slipped out of Corinth, mumbling something under her breath.

“I can’t let Venjix find out about her...”

[url-is-under-construction]

𝐒𝐮𝐫𝐯𝐢𝐯𝐨𝐫 | 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟏 ~ 𝐃.𝐇 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

Just a little idea that’s been in my head for a while :)

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1.1 K

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Um? Aliens? Bad language? Bad writing?

𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐒𝐲𝐩𝐧𝐨𝐬𝐢𝐬: There was nothing left, no one left. No one but you and the shy little girl you had learnt to love as a daughter. The two of you were surviving, praying to god that the company would rescue you, not realizing that it would only bring more danger.

You were unsure of the noise when you first heard it.

The compound was almost never silent, there was always the sound of something running, or stalking the abandoned hallways. They were barely hallways anymore, just messes of failed barricades and wiring, holes burnt into the floor by acid and the scent of death in the air.

This sound was different though.

The sound of machinery, some sort of ship droned on outside, barely audible but still loud enough to be detected by your ears. In the time that you had been surviving down there, your senses of hearing, sight and smell, just about anything that could keep you alive had been heightened.

“What’s that?” The small, broken voice beside you murmured, cuddled into your side as the two of you shared a slice of stale bread you had managed to find in an abandoned apartment.

“Nothing baby.” You stroked her tangled mess of hair comfortingly, despite feeling your heart pound in your chest.

You knew she’d be able to feel the thumping too, and that she’d realize you were lying, but she kept her mouth shut.

The noise was cut off, and your stomach dropped, realizing they probably did a once over of the compound and deemed it dead.

“See?” You cast your eyes down to her shivering figure. “All gone.”

She nodded, sighing and closing her eyes.

“You should try and get some sleep.” You said quietly, just as broken as she was.

You also wanted to close your eyes, let your mind and body be numbed by unconsciousness but you couldn’t. You hadn’t slept more than an hour at a time for the past few weeks, and you couldn’t see it changing any time soon.

Newt’s breathing gradually grew deeper and deeper, and you knew she was asleep. You let yourself close your eyes too, enjoying the rare feeling of calm.

                                                         𝐨𝐨𝐨

You jolted awake, beads of sweat on your forehead after the dream you had had. Instinctively, you cast your eyes down to the side to check on Newt, and felt your heart drop instantly.

She wasn’t there.

“Shit.” You hissed loudly, pushing yourself up off the stash of trash you were lying on. “Newt!” You called out to her as quietly as you could, feeling your panic levels rising as you got no response.

She knew that she wasn’t to leave without you there, and she certainly wasn’t to leave while you were asleep and had no idea where she was.

“Newt!” You called out again, louder this time, not caring about the sort of attention you would attract.

You felt your breaths become shorter and deeper, and your eyes began to get watery as you began going through all the possible things that could have happened to her.

“Shit, shit, shit.” You choked out. “Newt!”

The sound of rapid gunshots caused your head to snap.

“Newt!” You called out again, louder.

You reached for the small knife you kept in your boot and dived towards the vent, pushing your way through despite how tight it was.

You heard the sound of men yelling, and a powerful “Don’t let her go!”

With a newfound burst of energy you pushed your body to the limits, blinded by concern, fear, and an overwhelming urge to protect Newt.

“Ahh!” You let out a gasp as you collided with something, or someone. You looked up, coming face to face with Newt and you breathed out a sigh of relief. “Get behind me!” You urged, hearing someone behind her.

You tightened your grasp on the knife as a dark figure came crawling towards you, slowing down and stopping about three meters away as you held the knife out, silently warning her not to come any closer.

“We’re here to help.” She said calmly, her eyes flicking from the blade in your hands back to your eyes. “Please. Let us help you.”

Your heavy breathing echoed throughout the vent.

“Were you trying to help us when you were shooting at her?” You spat at the woman.

“That was a misunderstanding. Please.” The woman said, almost begging. “My name is Ripley.”

You started at her, assessing her. She had kind eyes, but you still didn’t want to trust her, and despite the sound of shots earlier you couldn’t see a firearm on her anywhere.

That only meant there were more people out there.

“Who are you with?” You asked quietly, your voice having lost some of the fight in it.

Her face relaxed and she smiled softly at you as she spoke.

“Soldiers. A small number of them, sent here to find out what was happening after we lost communication with the colony.”

You took in her words, letting them sink into your mind. It was believable.

After a minute of silence you finally spoke up again.

“Move.”

“What?” Ripley let out a quick, nervous laugh.

You pointed the knife at her again, threateningly.

“Backwards. Get out of the vent.” Your voice was strong again, commanding. “We’ll follow you.”

She thought for a moment before nodding hesitantly.

“Ok.”

She began to shuffle backwards, still on her hands and knees, and you waited until she was far enough away to follow.

“C’mon Newt.” You turned to glance at the little girl, noticing her wide, scared eyes. “It’ll be ok.”

She nodded, following behind you as you crawled forward hesitantly, unsure of what would be waiting on the other side.

Ripley exited the vent, and you heard a murmur of voices outside, mostly male.

Your heart pounded through chest as you got closer and closer to the exit, and you considered turning and running until Ripley’s familiar face came into view at the end of the vent, just a few meters from you.

“C’mon out guys, it’s safe.”

You finally got to the end, tentatively taking the hand that came down to help pull you up and out of the vent.

Your grimy hands and dirty finger nails looked out of place, grasped tightly in the clean hand, and your eyes followed along it’s arm until you met the eyes of a man, a handsome man, who gave you a short smile, releasing you when you were finally on your feet.

You kept your face blank, tearing your eyes from his and turning back to the vent so that you could help Newt out.

“Come here sweetie.” You grabbed her hands the same way he had done for you, and gently pulled her up and against your body.

She nervously looked around the small crowd of people who surrounded the two of you and you met Ripley’s eyes.

“Where to now?”

𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

Please let me know if you’re liking it! Hicks doesn’t get nearly as much love as he should, so I’ve taken it upon myself to start writing a little series that I’ve had in my head literally forever .

Requests are certainly open <3

[url-is-under-construction]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐀𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐧 𝐅𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐬𝐞 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

I don’t think I’ve ever found any writing for this on here, so I’ve taken it upon myself to write some :)

Enjoy!

𝐃𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐧𝐞 𝐇𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐬

Survivor - There was nothing left, no one left. No one but you and the shy little girl you had learnt to love as a daughter. The two of you were surviving, praying to god that the company would rescue you, not realizing that it would only bring more danger.

                    Part 1

                    Part 2

[fanficdumbchic]

Hey there! I love your work :) Was just wondering if you would be able to do a dating hicks and Hudson from Aliens headcanon <3 separately if thats okay.

Love , P.

What It's Like to Date US Colonial Marines

Headcanon - USCM x Reader - SFW

AN: Thank you P.! You're a sweetie. Here's a dating headcanon for each of the main marines. Hope you enjoy! Look forward to more requests from you. :)

Private Drake

Drake is so balls-to-the-wall supportive of anything you do, especially if you're being bad ass as shit.

Drake does not mind being overshadowed by you at all. He's just happy to have you.

He is great in bed and actually gives a fuck about what you both want.

He's not just your partner, he's like your best friend. He's loyal as fuck and devoted as fuck when he finds you because you're his person.

He would do anything for you (within reason) without question.

But he's not going to put up with your shit either. He calls you out when you need to be more aware of what you're doing and has very healthy boundaries. And like wise, even if he is very emotional about a certain happenstance, he is still very self-aware and able to hear reason when you call him out too.

Drake has no toxic masculinity bullshit to deal with, he is incredibly confident in himself and dismisses ridicule for anything considered ‘unmanly’.

Drake is not a full dom, he prefers to switch because he wants both of you to feel powerful.

Definitely the male counterpart in a power couple.

Lieutenant Gorman

He is very closed-off and stand-offish at first.

He takes himself and his job very seriously and he isn't great with handling criticism.

He has hardcore humiliation trauma.

He's not good at functioning under pressure but always tries to do the right thing when it really counts.

He's someone where it takes you awhile to get past his cold, serious exterior, but once you do, he really is a sweetie.

He's slow to trust, but once he trusts you he is loyal to a fault.

He has a lot of trust issues but he tries really hard to work through them.

He realizes that he's not very physically or publicly affectionate but tries his hardest to make sure you feel loved regardless.

He shuts down during arguments and fights. Being yelled at immediately sends him into a panic attack.

However, he doesn't avoid your problems, he just has to be in a calm environment to deal with it.

He will not cry in front of anyone, even you. This guy has some emotional trauma but again, he's working on it. He most likely comes from a strict, military family and that's his baggage.

Even if he's not the easiest partner to have, he makes up for it where it counts and loves you.

Corporal Hicks

Hicks is just such a wholesomely good guy.

He has hella respect for strong women and actually listens.

While he closely follows the orders/instructions of those he knows are more qualified to be making the decisions, he still thinks for himself and sticks to his own moral compass.

He is very non-confrontational except in extreme circumstances.

One of his flaws is that he is a giver to a fault. His main thing is making sure everyone around him is good before he thinks of himself.

He will sacrifice for you and the people he cares about without a second thought.

His affection towards you is subtle and sometimes awkward but so sweet and thoughtful.

He wants nothing more than to see you thrive even when he's not.

He would rather everything remain calm and struggles during heated confrontation. He can be non-confrontational to a fault and fails to see any purpose in it.

Yet, it doesn't change the fact that he is always willing to face issues and work through them with you. He just doesn't feel conflict is the way to achieve that.

He definitely dotes on and spoils you, wanting the best for you and nothing less.

He just wants to be your hero.

Private Hudson

He definitely is reminiscent of the 'lovable asshole' archetype.

Hates when things don't go according to plan.

Humor is definitely his coping mechanism and love language.

He picks on you in a loving way but sometimes hurts your feelings with it. When he realizes that he went too far, he apologizes and stays away from those areas in the future. He really doesn't want to hurt your feelings.

He loves bickering with you like an you're both an old married couple. It's part of the fun for him.

He can be really stubborn and pigheaded sometimes and it can take awhile for him to get over his pride and admit you had a point or were flat-out right. But he always gets there.

He's incredibly cocky but takes his lumps without complaint when his ego is deflated.

Sometimes he is genuinely clueless about what he did wrong even if you think it's obvious. He's not the smartest boy.

Always dtf.

Loves to randomly smack you on the ass and see you blush.

When things go really wrong, you definitely have to be the calm one and keep him turned down a notch. But again, makes the right decisions when it really counts.

He loves to call you baby doll or baby girl or sweetheart.

Can you tell he's my favorite?

Private Vasquez

Unapologetic bad bitch.

Tough as nails and def has trauma she is not dealing with it.

Her philosophy is to suck it up and always push through it.

She is definitely the dominant partner and while she loves and cares for you, she does not like depending on others.

It takes awhile for her to trust and depend on people, you included.

Her love language is taking a bullet for you rather than being super lovey dovey. But affection is not something she shuns completely.

When she is vulnerable with you, she is deeply vulnerable with you.

She understands that she can be a really intense partner but she's not changing for you or anyone. That's who she is and she needs someone who's down with that.

She definitely is always trying to prepare for the worst case scenario and she hates surprises. They stress her out.

She never lets you feel unappreciated and notices even the little things you do.

She is a beast in bed.

She's one of those people where when they finally open up to you, it feels really special because you understand it takes a lot for them.

Like Drake, she is ride-or-die. She will not leave your side through even the worst shit. She goes hard af for the people she loves.

[fanficdumbchic]

Request (feel free to ignore): Bishop from Aliens and a reader with an android phobia

Bishop Changes Your Mind About Androids

Headcannon - Bishop x Reader - SFW

AN: This is not my best, I was kind of rushing when I wrote it and I apologize, but I love Bishop ships and legit will be doing more. Also, the direction towards the end might be a cool series? Let me know in ask if you’d like to see that.

You were switched squads last minute, working for the research division of the USCM. You had gone through the long journey to the USS Sulaco where you were meeting your new squad mates.

You got a good idea of the crew from the cafeteria. They all seemed alright enough, at least competent, unlike the last squad. And thankfully, no androids.

Your last squad had barely survived the last bug hunt due to the android working with you in research. He tried to follow “prime directive” to the expense of your squad’s safety. It was a close call but scary enough to make you distrustful.

The head Corporal introduced you to Lance Bishop, your new partner in research. He seemed nice enough and gave you the run down on the mission.

You were sitting at the table with the rest of the squad when one of the marines accidentally sliced his arm with the corner of a metal lunch tray. You jumped back in horror as his blood was white as milk, the tell-tale sign of androids.

You demanded to be switched to another squad, you could not trust another, being aware of how Weyland-Yutani programmed them to hinder the safety of squads. But your concerns were dismissed. Bishop didn’t take offense and explained, “The model you served with was a buggy one. My prime directive is to protect human life. I can assure you I would never endanger the crew.”

You worked alongside him for awhile, scrutinizing everything he said and did; looking for red flags. The fact he was always calm made things seem even more sinister.

That was until shit hit the fan. A weapon misfire and misdirection from the Corporal had turned the mission into a nightmare. You watched in awe as Bishop would willingly go into hostile territory to save anyone of the crew. He largely was to thank for most of the surviving marines and crew members.

You were finding yourself liking him more and you started to question your previous judgements.

But when you were stranded together at the research base, surrounded by hostiles, the only samples of life from that planet in your possession, you felt this may be the moment he proved you correct. The mobile unit had finally gotten to you and Bishop had to decide between getting you on the unit or the sample. To your surprise, with no hesitation, he chose you.

The closer you worked with Bishop, the more you liked him. You had even covered for him when it was found he ignored “prime directive” from Weyland-Yutani to preserve his ethics. He was grateful to you and you became good friends. Genuine human connection was never something he had before, most treated him as disposable or lesser than.

You began to fall in love with his gentle demeanor. He clearly was functioning against his corporate programming, developing an independent love and appreciation for living beings.

His feelings were mutual, you were the only one to ever treat him as a fellow human being and recognize his inherent kindness. You trusted him with your life and you his.

Things had been going well until Weyland-Yutani caught on to his independence from programming. The Lance Corporal, Hicks, had tipped you off, having overheard the orders being given to Corporal Apone. He warned you that they were going to confiscate him and submit him for reprogramming.

You two had a beautiful adventure as you harbored him from the corporate goons. You both escaped from the USS Sulaco with the aid of LC Hicks and Private Hudson who sympathized with you both.