#discharged their weapons

[service4cops]

He loves having his weapon professionally serviced and knows that I'm the best provider in town. He always shoots on target and empties his chamber, and I love swallowing every last drop of his ball juice and milking him dry.

[industrialfrottage]

My hear-me-outs are just all of robotnik's robots in the sonic films...he just knows how to build a hot robot. The crab in sonic 3???? Absolutely fuckable

[kakashihasibs]

I'm having a normal one

[beloveds-embrace]

thinking hard about omega operative who got dishonorably discharged when they refused to roll over for their alpha captain. they wore it as a mark of pride anyways, but then they end up getting kidnapped by a group who rest suppressant drugs on them. Fast forward, a while later another omega is thrown into their cell; gaz.

gaz, who had already been close to his heat. gaz, who they brought in specifically for that reason to try the suppressants on him during such a time except you’d rather kill yourself before you’d let a fellow omega be used and abused while you are around. so you keep him behind you, snarling and biting at anyone who tries to come close to him.

in this cursed cell, you two bond just like; out of pure need and necessity and desperation for survival. you hold him through the worst of it and he clings to you, both of you more instincts than human.

survival eventually comes, in the form of memorizing the guards’ patterns and shifts and the timing of the suppressants. they dull your senses but not your mind, and it’s always been your sharpest weapon.

idk how it happens here but like. you do end up escaping, and you carry gaz with you, aware he’s still not fully there yet, still clouded by the latest doze they’d given him, and then you manage to somehow contact his team. when they find you, both you and gaz passed out, you are covering him with your body.

and when you wake up in a hospital, more aware than you’d been in months, you can’t even try to leave or move; there are three pairs of eyes peering at you and you are in gaz’s arms, who growls in his sleep each and every time you shift.

“you two have bonded.” price tells you, jaw tight and brows furrowed like an angry bear. then he sighs. “…you are staying. just for now, at least.”

(“now” turns to days, then weeks, then months, and by the time you realize it you have already made yourself a part of their pack).

[batboyblog]

Things Biden and the Democrats did, this week #24

June 21-28 2024

The US Surgeon General declared for the first time ever, firearm violence a public health crisis. The nation's top doctor recommended the banning of assault weapons and large-capacity magazines, the introduce universal background checks for purchasing guns, regulate the industry, pass laws that would restrict their use in public spaces and penalize people who fail to safely store their weapons. President Trump dismissed Surgeon General Dr. Vivek Murthy in 2017 in part for his criticism of guns before his time in government, he was renominated for his post by President Biden in 2021. While the Surgeon General's reconstructions aren't binding a similar report on the risks of smoking in 1964 was the start of a national shift toward regulation of tobacco.

Vice-President Harris announced the first grants to be awarded through a ground breaking program to remove barriers to building more housing. Under President Biden more housing units are under construction than at any time in the last 50 years. Vice President Harris was announcing 85 million dollars in grants giving to communities in 21 states through the  Pathways to Removing Obstacles to Housing (PRO) program. The administration plans another 100 million in PRO grants at the end of the summer and has requested 100 million more for next year. The Treasury also announced it'll moved 100 million of left over Covid funds toward housing. All of this is part of plans to build 2 million affordable housing units and invest $258 billion in housing overall.

President Biden pardoned all former US service members convicted under the US Military's ban on gay sex. The pardon is believed to cover 2,000 veterans convicted of "consensual sodomy". Consensual sodomy was banned and a felony offense under the Uniform Code of Justice from 1951 till 2013. The Pardon will wipe clean those felony records and allow veterans to apply to change their discharge status.

The Department of Transportation announced $1.8 Billion in new infrastructure building across all 50 states, 4 territories and Washington DC. The program focuses on smaller, often community-oriented projects that span jurisdictions. This award saw a number of projects focused on climate and energy, like $25 million to help repair damage caused by permafrost melting amid higher temperatures in Alaska, or $23 million to help electrify the Downeast bus fleet in Maine.

The Department of Energy announced $2.7 billion to support domestic sources of nuclear fuel. The Biden administration hopes to build up America's domestic nuclear fuel to allow for greater stability and lower costs. Currently Russia is the world's top exporter of enriched uranium, supplying 24% of US nuclear fuel.

The Department of Interior awarded $127 million to 6 states to help clean up legacy pollution from orphaned oil and gas wells. The funding will help cap 600 wells in Alaska, Arizona, Indiana, New York and Ohio. So far thanks to administration efforts over 7,000 orphaned wells across the country have been capped, reduced approximately 11,530 metric tons of carbon dioxide equivalent emissions

HUD announced $469 million to help remove dangerous lead from older homes. This program will focus on helping homeowners particularly low income ones remove lead paint and replace lead pipes in homes built before 1978. This represents one of the largest investments by the federal government to help private homeowners deal with a health and safety hazard.

Bonus: President Biden's efforts to forgive more student debt through his administration's SAVE plan hit a snag this week when federal courts in Kansas and Missouri blocked elements the Administration also suffered a set back at the Supreme Court as its efforts to regular smog causing pollution was rejected by the conservative majority in a 5-4 ruling that saw Amy Coney Barrett join the 3 liberals against the conservatives. This week's legal setbacks underline the importance of courts and the ability to nominate judges and Justices over the next 4 years.

[absolutely-esme]

Amity Park is different

Amity Park has a local superhero.

He's great. He works hard to protect his town. That said, Amity's local hero is a teenager. The people he relies on to help and support him are teenagers. The town's superhero defense is a handful of kids figuring things out on their own.

They do good, but sometimes the people of Amity have to be prepared to lend a hand or hold their own for a bit. That's just how life is under these conditions. Communities come together and support each other. It's fine. People adapt. Life goes on. They're really doing quite well.

A class from Amity Park visits a museum in Gotham on a field trip. They get caught in an unfortunately timed Scarecrow attack.

Scarecrow should have known better than to activate the fight or flight responses of a group of Amity Parkers.

The gas canister drops and discharges. The field trip group explodes into action.

A pair of Football players quickly overturns a table and use it as a shield as they charge the goons with the most firepower. Cheerleaders toss each other into the air for aerial attacks. Nerds turn objects from a nearby Janitor closet into a surprisingly effective trebuchet with astounding speed. One girl utilizes impressive martial arts skills.

A boy with Black hair and blue eyes flits about the battlefield pilfering and disassembling weapons with a shocking degree of efficiency as a Goth girl follows him around and bludgeon anyone who attempts to make a grab for him with a stand that had been holding up a rope barrier, and a boy in a beret lays down cover fire by launching pencils out of a makeshift bow formed from a binder and rubber bands with a startling degree of accuracy.

The teacher flits around pulling kids out of the path of attacks they hadn't seen, stowing any injured behind cover, and giving foes solid thwack on the noggin when the opportunity arises. He actually ends up knocking out Scarecrow himself.

The statement "We're not trapped in here with you. You're trapped in here with us," is repeated several times by different people.

When the Bats or police arrive, they have to carefully pull the feildtrip group off of the unfortunate rogues.

It takes a while to get the antidotes administered, but they do eventually manage. The class remains in defensive formation the whole time.

When the kids finally calm down enough to give statements, they mostly just say that Scarecrow gets what he gets for deliberately activating Amity Parkers' fight or flight responses. After the antidotes take effect, the class seems unfazed and goes about their business as soon as the authorities allow.

Some other visitors to the museum upload videos of the event online with titles like "the one class that was prepared for a field trip to Gotham" and "What kind of place is Amity Park, and why haven't I heard of it before?"

It doesn't take long for people to edit the videos to set the fight to music. Popular song choices include Ballroom Blitz, Bring 'em Out by Hawk Nelson, and the "we like to party" song from the six flags commercial.

Now the Bats are investigating Amity Park (and why they haven't heard of it before).

[jaewritesfic]

Everlasting Trio Nobody Knows AU DP x DC Part 4

Part 3

(Tim POV! This is a long one 😅)

 Tim almost has it. He's so close to cracking this file he can fucking taste it. He's been fighting this thing for two weeks. It's the most incomprehensible and infuriating code he's ever faced off against, which is fitting considering who gave it to them.

The engineer. THEIR engineer. The engineer they didn't ask for and Tim still isn't sure how they got, and the single biggest mystery in Tim's fucking life right now.

See, a significant amount of Bat gadgets at this point are Tim's brainchildren. He imagines them, he designs them, he workshops and tests them.

A few months ago, he'd had a pouch on his utility belt full of experimental pellets meant for slowing down fleeing vehicles. They were designed to break when run over and the compound inside would expand into durable, sticky foam that would ensnare tires.

He'd tested them in the cave.

He had not been prepared to take one hit to that side and have to frantically divest himself of that pouch before he became Gotham's latest foam based cryptid. 

His family had laughed themselves silly at him even as he broke off in pursuit of the drug runners he'd been fighting.

When Tim had doubled back expecting a mess to clean up and pellets to rework? It had been gone. All of it. The foam, the pellets, the pouch of his utility belt.

A serious problem, because who knows who got their hands on that?

Then it had shown back up.

That is to say, Gordon had called them because he found a pouch with a note labeled ‘for Red Robin’ sitting on the stand of the Bat Signal and didn't dare touch it.

After making sure it wasn't a bomb or some kind of biological weapon, Tim had opened the pouch - his own belt pouch - and found pellets. New pellets. Different pellets.

The note just read, “As funny as that was to watch, I fixed them for you. No more premature sploogage on the job. :3 P.S. here's a recipe for solution to dissolve future intentional discharges.”

They'd been right, too. The new pellets were tested (in case THEY were a bomb or biological weapon) and they'd been just strong enough to safely transport but still break when under the pressure of tires. Even the foam was more effective, and the spray Tim synthesized from that stupid recipe had worked like a dream.

What. The fuck.

This person not only improved his design and came up with a dissolution agent from scratch in days, they'd been watching without him knowing and made off with the original pellets without anyone noticing.

This was either a rogue in the making or someone they wanted on their side, and either way they needed to be found.

So Tim had done the obvious.

He'd put together a lockbox of money for the product they'd been given, loaded it with no less than ten (10) bat trackers and a note thanking their mysterious benefactor and requesting to meet up. He'd exploded a foam pellet on a rooftop and left the box on it in the hopes they'd notice and find it, then hung around far enough to not be seen and close enough to beat feet as soon as the trackers started moving. 

They did not start moving. They all went offline simultaneously. 

Tim has never moved so fast in his life, and yet by the time he got to the rooftop there was a pile of foam and nothing else. Not even a trace of whoever took the lockbox.

The next day, there was a ping of one (1) tracker that led them to a note thanking him for the money, refusing to meet, and asking if they'd considered certain improvements to their grapples with schematics for said designs.

Thus started the most bizarre and infuriating chase through notes, money, helpful designs and disappearing trackers Tim has ever been a part of.

Last time, the engineer had left them a USB stick and a note claiming that since they really wanted to know about him so bad, they could have the information on the USB if they could crack the encryption on the zip file inside.

Obviously they screened heavily for viruses or backdoors, but long story short Tim has been trying to crack the fucking thing for two weeks and refuses to let Oracle help. It's personal. It's a matter of pride. 

He could swear the code itself has actively been sabotaging his attempts to hack it, which is, you know. Impossible. 

Ping!

Tim blinks, looking over at the map on another monitor of the Bat computer. 

“Motherfucker-”

He taps into Duke’s comms. This is the first time this has ever happened during the day shift, he wasn't expecting it.

“Signal! I need you on the roof of the warehouse on the corner of Fifth and Everest - a tracker just came online.”

Another thing that infuriates Tim. You can't just turn Bat trackers on and off. They're activated, and then they either stay active or they're destroyed. They can't be turned off and then reactivated.

And fucking yet.

Duke groans, but his own tracker starts making its way in that direction.

“Dude. He's gonna be long gone by the time I get there. He always is.”

“He can't run from me forever,” Tim insists. “I'm almost in this damn file, and I am going to find him and dangle him off a roof from his ankles for giving us this runaround, so help me God.”

“Uh huh,” Duke deadpans. “Sure you are. I'm almost there, and- oh look! A note. What a surprise!”

Tim hears Duke touch down on the rooftop, eyes on the code on his screen while his brother clears his throat and reads aloud.

“Ahem- ‘Good morning, sunshine!’ - guess that's me - ‘I hear some bats and birds have been murdering tires at an alarming rate with the way they drive their bikes-’”

Tim freezes. He's not listening anymore.

“Signal.”

“‘- and that just can't be good for business. Nobody wants a bald tire ruining a chase. So boy do I have the thing for you-”

“Signal!”

“What?”

“I got it.”

“Huh? Got what?”

“I cracked his file. I got it.”

Tim is staring, wide eyed and full of a mixture of elation and trepidation at the contents of the zip file. It's a single text file titled, ‘Wow! You did it!’

“Oh, shit? Well? What's in it?”

Tim swallows, mouse hovering over the file. He takes a deep breath, then double clicks.

The file opens.

Tim blinks.

“Red Robin? What's in it?”

Tim scrolls slowly down, disbelief and horror dawning across his face. “Oh my God.”

“What? Come on, man, talk to me.”

Tim scrolls further.

“Oh. My God.”

“Red? Red Robin, you're scaring me, man.”

Tim puts his face in his hands. Voice muffled, he responds.

“Duke.”

“...Red? You okay?”

“No.”

“No?”

“It's the entire Bee Movie script.”

Silence reigns for a solid five seconds before Duke breaks and descends into raucous, hysterical laughter.

Even muffled by his own hands, Tim's scream of rage scares the bats in the cave into a tizzy.

Part 5

Masterpost

[proustianrevelry]

guy who thinks he's westley from the princess bride: *tickles self in leg w the smallest bullets u can use and still technically be considered a firearm* well that didn't seem so bad, time to upgrade to bigger bullets

bigger bullets: *hurt worse* *do more damage*

This is like if someone decided getting bit by cottonmouths [less than 0.1% fatality rate in humans, even if you don't count venomless 'dry' bites] made it safer to handle an Indian cobra [venom kills less than 10% of humans bit, is still two orders of magnitude deadlier than Agkistrodon piscivorous]

there was a dude on 4chan that tried microdosing getting shot by shooting himself with a pellet gun. eventually he tried an actual gun (didnt work)

scream that's incredible. owning the bullets with facts and logic.

[puckish-rouge]

Remember not to carry a SIG P320 with a round chambered if you don’t use a model with a manual safety (and if it’s a M17/18, keep it on if you’re not immediately about to fire) because there’s a nonzero chance it’ll randomly fire. Even if you have the “voluntary upgrade” it can still fire. If you carry a sidearm for any reason, be a real person and either carry a 1911 or some other kind of actually-capable-of-being-safe sidearm that won’t send a round into your leg because you moved weirdly. If you can’t properly handle your weapon with an empty chamber and the safety on, you don’t need to carry one.

[flightdescending]

POV: You are an up-and-coming manufacturer in Goldensparc, and your business's stake in the Lightning Farm has recently been bogged down by vandalism and corporate sabotage. Desperate, you decide to hire a freelance guarantor. She agrees to take the job, but includes a rider for unfettered access to recharging stations for her powerpacks. You wonder why she will be discharging a weapon often enough to require that in the contract, but decide to put it out of your mind. After all, she came very highly recommended.

[sanguinifex]

They don’t even both suck.

One guy is old and not the best public speaker but he has a solid track record as a career civil servant and has accomplished a lot of very good reforms over the course of his presidency. Stuff like “pardoning gay veterans who were dishonorably discharged for gay sex and reinstating their VA benefits,” and environmental reforms including renewable energy and compact nuclear reactors, has been trying to negotiate a ceasefire in Palestine for months, plus about a hundred more things it would take too long to mention here.

The other guy wants to turn the entire civil service into political appointees for anyone ranked higher than janitor, publicly talks about how he wants to use nuclear weapons, supports Russian imperialism, thinks international alliances only matter when they’re convenient to him personally, wants to obliterate queer people, and would gladly enable the complete extermination of Palestine because he likes watching things go boom.

You have one solid but unglamorous choice, and one choice that is corrupt fascistic chaos.

You have one vote.

[nyarumie]

What if Soshiro's girlfriend was nice to Weapon 10 because it saved his life and instead of being flustered 10 also start liking her and now Soshiro feels like he has to share his gf with the suit!!

A small continuation to 'Suit Anomaly', based from this ask! (Click here for Part 3)

Author's Reply: Hi, Anon! This sounds adorable! His gf's semi rude attitude towards No. 10 was because of the injuries Soshiro got from their fight, but she's not a totally cold person so I can see this happening! I shall do my best ♡

Requests and messages are welcome on my ask box! I can also write for Narumi and Mina (｡･ω･｡)ﾉ♡

Just a few weeks after the nationwide cataclysm orchestrated by Kaiju No. 9, you once again found yourself standing in the very same training facility right after a small kaiju attack from the previous day. This time, you’re equipped with your own numbers weapon just in case it goes haywire after all the damage it sustained.

“How does it feel?” you ask him.

“Still as uncomfortable as ever,” he said. “Can’t say this thing’s more tame now, it’s as battle hungry as always; but it kinda listens to me and has a l’il bit of common sense now.”

You snort, hearing No. 10 roar an “Are you saying I’m stupid?!” at him.

Knowing him, Soshiro just refuses to tell the truth: He’s grown comfortable wearing his numbered suit, despite the strain it deals on his body. It’s particularly crazy how he’s able to wear it and fight using it again just after a few days of being discharged from the medbay—any normal officer wouldn’t be able to walk after that destructive fight.

"Hmm… You both did well in yesterday's fight," you started, followed with a sigh, "But you didn't need to go all-out at all. They were just small fry!"

Soshiro comically scratched his head, "No offense sweetie, but I think you're just upset you didn't get to kill one yesterday. This guy wanted to wipe 'em all out for ya. Some kind of thanks for actively watchin' over the suit's repair."

"I didn't say anything like that!" it complained.

Soshiro crossed his arms and complained, "Ya keep dragging me to her area! Told ya she's as strong as we are, but you kept screaming at me saying somethin' like 'Oi, Hoshina! Ain't you gonna protect your little foul mouthed girlfriend?!'"

"Stop lying! I just wanted to get a higher kill count; you're being too lousy in battle!"

'Ah… compatibility aside, the arguments aren't stopping soon.' you thought.

You cleared your throat, getting their attention back to you. "If that's the case, then I extend my deepest gratitude to you both—but you don't have to worry about me!"

Proceeding to closely inspect the suit, you went down on one knee and thoroughly observed its tail, which had been severed during their fight with Kaiju no. 12. You started caressing it, seemingly deep in thought.

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING?! I told you I'm not a pet!"

Soshiro just quietly observed the scene, curious at your actions.

Going to stand in front of Soshiro again, you bent your upper body forward to meet the Kaiju's eye.

For the first time since he's donned this suit, you gave it a sincere smile. "I give you my deepest thanks for protecting Soshiro. You did well."

Silence.

After a minute of solid silence, the tail started aggressively swaying around and a frantic scream from Okonogi caught yours and Soshiro's attention.

"Vice Captain! Platoon Leader! I advise you to end the monitoring session—the suit's rapidly overheating for no reason!"

Eh?

Soshiro started pulling the tail, trying to get it to behave. "You cyclops! Keep still! My girlfriend's not flirtin' with ya, not with a Kaiju!"

"Cyclops?! I'm not even doing anything, bowlcut bastard!"

As you laugh at the entertainment in front of you, the Kaiju detection alarm goes off.

"Let's go. Make sure you let me kill some today, alright?" you said, mood heightened.

That being said…

In the midst of the battle, it took Soshiro a great deal of strength just to stop the Kaiju suit from rushing towards your aid.

The both of them started arguing again after the fight, as Soshiro saw how its tail was subtly waving when you approached them, as if asking to be caressed again.

"Ya don't get to ask my girlfriend to touch yer tail! I'm not sharin' her with you!"

"I didn't ask her anything! And would you look at that, she's already touching it!"

With a pout akin to that of a child getting their lollipop stolen, Soshiro said, "Dear, ya don't have to do that! I'm right here!"

You giggled, wanting to tease him a bit. "And I can see you well enough, 'Shiro. You'll get your kisses later, yeah?"

He groaned, continuing their seemingly never-ending argument.

Oh, you can get used to this.

[ilovemitsuya]

sylus x reader (fluffy,angsty?)

summary: “During a mission, I sustained serious injuries and was hospitalized. Though Sylus couldn’t visit me, he sent Mephisto in his place. When I was discharged, I wasn’t expecting him to be outside.”

“I’m not going to lie to you two.” Jenna said, folding her arms across her chest as she leaned back against her desk. “This mission isn’t like the others we’ve done. That facility is more unstable than we initially thought. The few teams we’ve sent to investigate before found nothing at all.”

Crossing my arms as I studied Captain Jenna’s face.

“So why send just the two of us, then?” I asked.

“Why not a full squad if it’s that dangerous?”

“Because we don’t know exactly what we’re dealing with. A bigger team could draw too much attention.“

“And if we find something… unexpected?” Tara asked.

“You report back immediately.” Jenna said, her tone firm. “Don’t try to take on anything alone if it’s beyond your capabilities. This isn’t about being heroes.”

There was a beat of silence before Jenna pushed off her desk and took a step closer to me and Tara. “But you’re not going in blind. We’ll have a team on standby if things get too hot. You need to trust your instincts and watch each other’s backs.”

Glancing at Tara, she gave me a reassuring nod.

Tara and I turned to leave, but Jenna’s voice stopped us just before we reached the door. “And remember.” she called out, “If things start to go sideways, you get out. Do you hear me?”

“Loud and clear.” I replied, glancing over my shoulder at her.

With that, Tara and I exited the office, both of us knowing that we were walking into something dangerous. But we had our orders.

———————————————————————

The facility loomed over us, the metal creaking with the weight of its own decay. Tara and I moved cautiously through the halls, weapons at the ready, our footsteps echoing against the cracked concrete.

Dust hung in the air like a fog, making each breath feel heavy. We’d been searching for signs of Wanderers for hours, but aside from a few ominous claw marks on the walls, there was nothing.

Tara walked a few paces ahead, her sharp eyes sweeping the darkened corners as she scanned for any signs of movement.

“This place gives me the creeps.”

“The readings are coming from this sector.” I confirmed. “It’s like there’s a cluster of energy sources in the storage area up ahead. Something’s definitely drawing them here.”

Tara nodded and pushed forward, keeping a steady pace as we approached the large metal door that led to the storage room. She placed a hand on the door’s surface, glancing back at me. “On three?” she whispered.

I tightened my grip on my gun and gave her a quick nod. “On three.”

“One… two… three!”

Tara shoved the door open, and we moved inside in a swift, coordinated motion. The room was just as the rest of the facility, old crates and equipment lay scattered across the floor, and the walls were covered in peeling paint.

I took a step forward, my eyes sweeping the room for any signs of movement. But then, there was a flicker of motion in the shadows, too quick to pinpoint at first.

I turned to Tara, but she had already seen it. Her eyes narrowed, and she raised her weapon in the direction of the disturbance.

“Stay sharp.” she said, voice tense. “I think we’ve got company.”

I reacted on instinct, surging forward to intercept it with a gunshot.

It swiped at me with one of its jagged claws, forcing me to block the strike with my forearm. Pain shot through my body as its claws tore through my sleeve and left deep gashes across my skin.

Before we could even do anything, the wanderer let out a loud roar and smashed its claws against the support beams around us. A low rumble vibrated through the building, and the ground beneath us trembled. Dust rained down from the ceiling, and a series of cracks split the concrete walls, spreading out in every direction.

“Get out of here, now!” Tara shouted, sprinting for the exit.

I turned to follow her, but the ground heaved under my feet, and a section of the ceiling gave way with a deafening crash. I stumbled and fell, barely managing to roll out of the way as a massive metal beam slammed down where I’d been standing. The room shuddered violently, and the walls seemed to cave inward.

“Tara!” I called out, but my voice was drowned out by the roar of collapsing debris. I saw her struggling to keep her footing near the exit, but then another tremor hit, and a cascade of rubble came crashing down, forcing us apart.

I fought to keep moving, dodging falling beams and lunging over shifting pieces of debris. But it was no use. The floor buckled beneath me, and I felt myself falling through the collapsing structure.

The impact knocked the wind from my lungs, and pain exploded through my side as I hit the ground hard. I tried to move, but my legs were pinned beneath a heavy chunk of concrete, and the darkness quickly closed in around me.

The last thing I saw before everything faded was the shattered remnants of the facility above, crumbling like a house of cards. Then, there was nothing.

———————————————————————

The steady beep of a heart monitor was the first thing I became aware of as I drifted back to consciousness.

The world came back in hazy fragments, a faint antiseptic smell, the dull ache radiating through my entire body, the blinding white light overhead. I blinked slowly, the ceiling tiles came into focus. I was in a hospital room, covered in bandages, and every muscle felt like it had been dragged through hell.

A groan escaped my lips as I tried to shift into a more comfortable position. The movement must have caught someone’s attention because I heard a chair scrape back and then footsteps rushing closer.

“Hey, hey, take it easy.” It was Tara’s voice, low and familiar, filled with a relief I hadn’t heard from her often. She came into view, her face creased with worry. Her eyes softened when she saw I was awake, and she let out a breath that sounded like she’d been holding it for a long time. “You’re finally awake. How are you feeling?”

I managed to lift my head just enough to give her a weary look. “Like I got hit by a train.” I rasped, my voice rough from disuse. “What happened to me?”

“You were inside when the building collapsed.” she explained, pulling a chair closer and sitting down beside me. “By the time we got a rescue team in there, you were unconscious and pinned under the debris.” Tara’s voice wavered slightly, and she quickly looked away, as if embarrassed to show how much the whole thing had shaken her.

“You’ve been out for a while.” Her tone was a little lighter now, a hint of humor breaking through. “Can’t believe you’d scare me like that. Do you know how annoying it was waiting around here?”

A faint chuckle escaped me, though it quickly turned into a wince.

“I should let the doctors know you’re awake. They’ll want to check you over.”

I gave a slow nod, already feeling exhaustion pulling at me again, but I didn’t want her to worry. “Go ahead.” I murmured. “I’m not going anywhere.”

As the door clicked shut behind her, the room fell silent again, and I found myself staring at the ceiling, fighting the familiar feeling of emptiness that came whenever I was alone. I closed my eyes and let out a slow breath.

I wished Sylus were here. There was no way he could just walk into a hospital like any normal person.

I was about to close my eyes again when I heard a soft tapping on the window. My eyes snapped open, and my heart skipped a beat as I turned toward the sound. There, perched on the narrow ledge just outside the window, was a black crow. Mephisto.

I struggled to sit up, limping a little as I reached out to unlock the window. It slid open with a creak, and Mephisto hopped inside, a small bundle of wildflowers clutched in his beak. They were ragged and windblown, a little wilted from the journey, but I could tell they’d been picked carefully.

I took the flowers gently from Mephisto’s beak, my hands trembling slightly. There was a small note tied around the stems with a piece of dark string. I untied it and read the familiar handwriting: “Since I can’t be there. Take care of yourself. – S.”

Sylus couldn’t come to see me himself, but he’d sent Mephisto instead. His way of saying he was there, still watching over me.

“Thank you.” I whispered

Mephisto tilted its head and gave a soft caw, as if acknowledging my words. Then, it took off out the window again.

I sank back against the pillows, holding the flowers close. It wasn’t the same as having Sylus here in person, but it was enough to know he was thinking of me.

———————————————————————

As I lay in the hospital bed, I reached for my phone on the side table and unlocked the screen. My fingers trembled slightly as I typed out a message to Sylus.

I hit send and waited, my heart beating a little faster than it should. The minutes dragged on, and I started to wonder if he'd even seen my message. But then, my device buzzed with his reply.

Typical Sylus.

The response came almost instantly, as though he'd been expecting my question.

I glanced back at the window, half expecting to see the crow still there. It made sense. Mephisto had always kept an eye on me, by Sylus’s command.

I stared at the screen, my chest tightening as I read his words.

There was a long pause before his next message arrived.

It was the closest thing to comfort I would get from him, even if he couldn't be here with me.

———————————————————————

The final paperwork was a blur, the nurse’s instructions fading in and out as I focused on keeping steady. I was bandaged up and aching from head to toe, but at least I was getting out of the hospital. They’d wanted to keep me a few days longer, but I’d insisted on leaving.

As soon as they handed me my things, I slipped into my jacket and headed outside.

When I pushed through the front doors, a figure was leaning casually against the side of the building, half hidden in the shadow cast by the streetlamp. Sylus. He looked up when he saw me.

“Sylus…” I said, managing a small smile as I walked over, but his expression was tense as he straightened up, his eyes quickly scanning over my injuries.

“You’re stubborn for a hunter.” he muttered, his tone flat, though I could tell by the way his eyes lingered on my face and my bandaged arm that he was probably worried.

“The hell are you doing out here so soon? You could barely stand a few hours ago.”

“They were going to keep me trapped in there another week,” I said, trying to sound lighter than I felt. “I couldn’t just stay there doing nothing.”

He gave me a sharp look, he slipped his arm around my shoulders, guiding me firmly to his car parked a few feet away.

“You’re barely out, and here you are, thinking you’re ready to run around already.”

I tilted my head, raising an eyebrow.

"Since when do you drive anything other than that death trap of yours?"

"Since I figured you might not be up for riding around on a motorcycle after getting half crushed under a building."

He helped me into the passenger seat, taking extra care to ensure I was settled in before closing the door. He didn’t say anything as he walked around and got in himself, but the silence felt heavy, like he was holding back from saying a thousand things.

We drove through the streets in silence until we reached the edge of the city. I realized where we were going the moment we turned onto a narrow road.

“Your place?” I asked, glancing over at him.

He kept his gaze on the road. “You’re not going home alone in that condition. Not happening.”

I knew better than to argue, so I just nodded.

When we finally arrived, he was already at my side, opening the car door before I could even move. I tried to slide out on my own, but he offered his hand, steady and warm, and before I could argue, he was lifting me out of the seat.

I groaned, shaking my head. “Sylus, I can walk. You don’t need to—”

“Too late, sweetie.” he smirked, his arms sliding under my legs as he pulled me up, holding me effortlessly in a bridal carry. “Just sit back and let me do this.”

I sighed, trying to hide the warmth creeping up my face. “I’m tough, you know.”

“I know you are.” He glanced down, a glint of amusement in his eyes as he carried me toward the door. “But you’re hurt, and besides,” he added, leaning closer, his voice softening, “sometimes, you need someone to take care of you.”

Inside, he led me to his room and gestured for me to sit on the bed. “Wait here. And don’t try moving around.”

I managed a small, sarcastic smile. “What, you think I’m going to run off?”

His gaze darkened. “You have a habit of being reckless.”

Before I could respond, he was already disappearing into the other room, returning moments later with a small first aid kit and a glass of water. He knelt beside me, unwrapping some of the bandages on my arm with practiced precision.

“I already saw the doctors for this.” I said, watching him closely. He ignored me, dabbing disinfectant on a fresh cut and glancing up with a glint of warning in his eyes.

“Clearly, they didn’t do a good enough job if you’re in this condition.” he replied, his tone clipped.

I sighed, not bothering to respond. Instead, I watched his hands move, careful but efficient, his expression focused as he replaced the bandages. He was so quiet, so steady, so… unlike his usual self. His eyes kept flicking up to meet mine, only for a second, before going back to my injuries.

“You don’t have to do this, you know.” I murmured, not sure if I was talking to him or to myself.

He paused, his hands stilling for a moment, before he looked up, his expression unreadable. “And if I don’t, who will?”

I watched him as he worked, watching how he gently wrapped fresh gauze around my arm, tightening it carefully.

His fingers lingered over the bandage, as if making sure it wasn't too tight.

"Is this too tight?" he murmured, his gaze flicking up to meet mine.

"No... it's fine." I whispered, feeling my heart hammering in my chest. My words were barely a breath, and I wasn't sure if he heard me, but he continued anyway, his focus unbreakable.

"You can tell me if it hurts." he said softly, his gaze locking onto mine.

"It doesn't hurt." I replied, trying to keep my voice steady. But the truth was, all I can think about is how his fingers felt against my skin.

“You could have been killed.” he suddenly said, the faintest tremor in his voice. “And you didn’t think to tell me, or anyone, what you were dealing with out there?”

I looked down, feeling that familiar pang of guilt again.

“Tell me next time before you go off on one of these suicide missions.” he snapped, his jaw tight. “Or better yet, stay out of places where buildings collapse on you.”

“I don’t get to pick and choose which missions are dangerous.” I replied.

“And I’m supposed to sit back and just watch you throw yourself into the line of fire?” His voice was low, but I could hear the worry simmering beneath it.

He was silent for a moment, his expression hardening as he reached over to brush a strand of hair from my face.

“And next time, you’re telling me about this kind of mission. I don’t care if you think it’s nothing.”

My expression softened as I looked up at him

“I’m okay now.” I whispered.

He stared at me for a moment before he gave a reluctant nod.

“Try to rest here. I’ll get you some fresh clothes.” he said, guiding her down gently. “I’m guessing you don’t want to stay in those all night.”

I took the bundle of soft, comfortable clothes he offered.

“Thank you, Sylus.”

His lips quirked into a gentle smile, running his fingers lightly through my hair, guiding me to lie back against the bed.

“Enough fighting it, sweetie.” he murmured, his voice low and soothing. “You need to rest.”

I started to protest, but he pressed a finger gently to my lips, shaking his head. “No arguments,” he said softly. “Just close your eyes.”

He pulled a blanket over me, his hands lingering as he tucked it around my shoulders, and as my breathing slowed, I felt his fingers brush my cheek, tracing gentle patterns along my skin. The last thing I saw was him watching me, his expression filled with something I couldn’t quite place, a mix of worry, relief, and maybe… something else, something deeper.

“Sleep.” he whispered, his voice a barely audible murmur. “I’m not going anywhere.”

———————————————————————

The soft rise and fall of her breathing filled the room. Sylus sat beside her, one leg folded over the other, his arms crossed as he watched her sleep. In the dim light, she looked peaceful, a stark contrast to the worry that had been etched into her face earlier. He’d seen her like this before years ago.

He could still remember that night, when she’d slipped through his fingers.

He reached out almost instinctively, brushing his fingers against her cheek. She didn’t stir, but his touch softened, lingering there, feeling the warmth of her skin against his fingertips.

Unable to bear it, he slipped his arms around her, drawing her close, careful not to wake her. She was warm, her head resting against his chest, her body relaxed in his embrace. He pressed his cheek against her hair, letting himself take in her scent, the steady beat of her heart.

“You don’t get to do this to me again.” he whispered, his voice rough, barely audible even to himself. “Not this time. I won’t lose you. Not again.”

if you made it this far thank you sm for reading! I appreciate you feel free to request ♡

[nuzipilled]

THE GANGS ALL HERE 🗣️🔥‼️ information below the cut, “B” cast ( Doll, Lizzy, Thad) have not been included yet as they dont have a role in the main story yet. feel free to ask any questions, me and @kylelily123abc4 will do our best to answer them (:

UZI

Uzi is a 21 year old woman with an undergraduate in medical engineering, which she was coaxed into by her parents (Namely Khan). She is incredibly adept and smart and prefers the technicalities of weapons engineering, and majors in art on the side. She would like to do it full time, however her parents insist it’s not a “real job.” She volunteers at the local hospital N, V and J are relocated to from overseas so they can continue inpatient care until they are stable enough to be discharged and resume physio / psychotherapy as outpatients. She meets N during his time there and immediately clicks with him, and eventually begins to visit him on her off hours, and continues to visit him even after her contract ends. They end up establishing a relationship together and, after finding it is much less expensive commuting to school, moves in with N, V, J, Cyn and Tessa in their apartment for the semester.

She spent most of her childhood moving around and being bullied—the most significant moment having been when her first kiss was stolen by someone who only dated her because he was dared to.

Uzi is a big fan of all things anime, edgy humor, hot topic, and nightcore. she’s got the soul of an unabashed 2000s emo girl stuck in the modern day.

N

Private first class Nate (all his friends call him N) Is a 23 year old man who was fostered from a family in Utah alongside his sister Cyn under Tessa, another childhood friend, and the Elliot family in Melbourne Australia from the ages of 8-18. When of applicable age, he went back to the United States to enlist in the marines and live with Cyn, a former child prodigy who was scouted and given multiple scholarships due to record breaking academics and reflexes on simulator games.

He was severely traumatized during his first deployment overseas along with his other childhood friends, V, and J, after their humvee hit an IED during a routine supply run. All three were critically injured and the sole survivors of their team of 6. He, along with J and V spent a total of 12 hours alone in the desert before they were airlifted to an emergency hospital in germany, then, once stabilized, returned to the states to resume inpatient care in Salem, Oregon.

Despite his honorable discharge and severe ptsd diagnosis, N does his best to remain upbeat and positive, almost to a fault, oftentimes repressing “bad” thoughts or feelings.

He ends up meeting Uzi in the hospital and they form a relationship together, her eventually moving in and living with V, J, Him, Tessa, and Cyn in their flat after they’re discharged from the hospital.

J

Sergeant Jane (Only preferring J when around close friends) is a 26 year old trans woman who was fostered from an immigrant afghan family under Tessa, another childhood friend, and the Elliot family in Melbourne Australia from the ages of 4-18, having realized she was a woman very early in life. She began socially transitioning at 12, and began HRT as soon as she aged out of the system. She was the first to be involved with the Elliots and was pushed to enlist in the australian military, quickly moving up the ranks to sergeant and was eventually posted in the united states to assist in training other cadets. She was severely traumatized during her second deployment overseas along with her other childhood friends, V, and N after their humvee hit an IED during a routine supply run. All three were critically injured and the sole survivors of their team of 6. she, along with J and V spent a total of 12 hours alone in the desert before they were airlifted to an emergency hospital in germany, then, once stabilized, returned to the states to resume inpatient care in Salem, Oregon.

Having been their squad leader, J often blames herself for the incident, even if she doesn’t talk about it or say anything out loud. J is an ass kisser. She will do anything and everything to succeed and has a Holier Than Thou personality, often very uptight and not about any bullshit. Her relationship with N specifically is horrible, and she harbours lots of jealousy and resentment from their time growing up due to favoritism.

She has a long standing, massive crush on Tessa Elliot, her longtime confidant and friend, though it went unrequited for their entire childhood and into their early adult life, J often being subject to Tessa’s dating endeavours and crushes in the meantime.

V

Lance Corporal Victoria, (Who prefers to go by V present day) 4-18 who was fostered from a family in Vermont under Tessa, another childhood friend, and the Elliot family in Melbourne Australia from the ages of 8-18. She enlisted in the military alongside J and eventually N, and was transferred to the states to assist in training procedures for new cadets with J.

She was decommissioned during her second deployment overseas along with N and J after their humvee hit an IED during a routine supply run. All three were critically injured and the sole survivors of their team of 6. She took the brunt of the blast, sustaining the most severe wounds and was airlifted to an emergency hospital in germany, then, once stabilized, returned to the states to resume inpatient care in Salem, Oregon.

The doctors operating on her told her she would never walk again--V proved that wrong by walking the next week. It was a miracle—however V simply states it was due to “having that dog in her.”

She is very resilient, but is often grumpy with a dry sense of tone and humor. She used to have feelings for N when they were kids, but it's since faded as they grew and disappeared during their time in active duty. Though despite this, she still cares for him as a friend, even if she rarely shows it.

She is the first to be discharged, having been set up in an apartment downtown by Tessa, who lives with her and eventually is joined by N, J, Cyn, and eventually Uzi. She is a gym rat with a heavy workout regimen that she will make everyone else's problem if its interrupted.

CYN

Cynthia (Who ONLY goes by Cyn present day) is N's little sister. She is still in active duty in the military air-force. She was a child savant who graduated highschool at 14 and college at 18, moving on to become one of the best UAV operators in history, with successful missions reaching into the hundreds. Cyn is autistic and physically disabled, having been born with cerebral palsy, and uses forearm crutches as mobility aids--but make no mistake, she is incredibly intuitive and adept. often knock-kneed and walks with an awkward gate, and speaks with very ‘robotic’ mannerisms. She sometimes struggles to show empathy in a ‘socially normal way’ or have a conversational filter. She has a very dark sense of humor as well, that for those not used to her may find jarring or off putting. Cyn hates being referred to as a child or incompetent because of her appearance or her disability, she will even go to an extent to prove the point that she does not need assistance. Tends to be protective of N, to a lesser but still protective of V and J and much later down the line Uzi becomes a close friend of hers.

In her off time she enjoys painting warhammer figurines, collecting cards and playing video games. She has a very kitsch, macabre sense of interest, often owning eclectic, odd knick knacks and memorabilia, namely a taxidermied wombat she’s affectionately named “Suzie.”

TESSA

Dr Tessa James Elliot is a very talented surgeon working out of a public hospital in Brisbane, Australia, descending from a very rich family. She is N, V and J’s childhood friend and frequently travels to different parts of the world to assist in surgeries or specialist care. Tessa paused all of her work when she learned of their incident overseas, flying to America to personally attend to their care–with some bribery and finagling due to HIPPA not allowing biased treatment. She just cares too much to not do anything. Tessa is a joyful, social butterfly. Excellent bedside manner and a good sense of humor but sometimes comes off as socially awkward. She is J’s lifelong crush despite not being aware of it, having spent some time dating around but nobody ever seems to be the right fit. She often complains about her recent dating endeavors to J much to her chagrin.

Tessa is, for the lack of a better word, weird. Think Cyn with a little more charisma, often not having a conversational filter or saying things out of the blue. She is not disturbed by otherwise off putting things like death, bodily fluids, nudity, gore etc, and has a bit of a dark sense of humor that she portrays very upbeat and positively. She is incredibly smart and adept bookwise, however socially she comes up a bit short.

there is an alternative version of these guys however it is 18+ for nudity. you can see it on bluesky here and twitter here

[dollfacefantasy]

INFECTED WITH INFATUATION ♡

pairing: carlos oliveira x fem!reader

summary: you and carlos are out on a mission when you come into contact with an unfamiliar plant specimen. the effects are unexpected to say the least.

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, p in v, dubcon (cause of the pollen), sex pollen, breeding kink, overstimulation

wc: 6k

a/n: omggg kinktober already over halfway done. crazyyy. i hope you guys like this one. it was fun to write so thank you to the person who requested. reblogs, comments, and asks are appreciated <3

kinktober slot: day 17 - sex pollen

"Carlos, watch out!" you shout.

Your partner, the man you called out to, takes heed of your warning as soon as it hits his ears. He ducks down, giving you a clear shot at the overgrown spider crawling down the hedged corridor at the two of you. The moment you have a lock on the target, you shoot. You never hesitate in the field. It only took you one day of dealing with bioweapons to learn that lesson.

Your finger presses down on the trigger of your gun hard, firing multiple rounds right at the creature. The bullets tear through its flesh. Its limbs fumble, and it crumples to the ground. Your heart slows down a little. The sight of its death helps to calm your nerves.

Carlos pops back up, his black hair swishing out of his face with the motion. He turns to you with an approving smirk across his lips.

"Nice work, sharpshooter," he says.

You roll your eyes at the nickname. He'd given it to you after your first mission together in which you encountered an infected dog and managed to miss every single shot you fired at the thing. It had been first day nerves you insisted, and so far, that had proven to be true. But that wouldn't stop Carlos from making fun of you.

The two of you walk over to the deceased organism. You silently thank every possible higher power that this mission is almost over. There's only one more sector after this one, and then the two of you are done for a few weeks.

You hesitate to get too close to the arachnid. Even though it lies there motionless, some sort of innate survival instinct told you no. Your eyes scan it with disgust, looking at the coarse hairs and the multitude of eyes. Gross. You would just have to step around the thing.

With extreme caution, you traverse over its large legs. You wonder what kind of psychopath would want to engineer spiders and make them this big. Your feet land firmly on the ground with every stride you take. The absolute worst case scenario here would be falling over onto it and finding out it still has some life left. Another few steps though, and you're in the clear.

However, your partner apparently does not possess the same inherent fear of spiders you do. He walks over the dead thing without any extra care. In the process, his boot catches on the end of its thorax.

You watch as a baby spider bursts from it and bolts away from the body, making a beeline towards you. And you know it's ridiculous. You know it's humiliating. But you scream.

You're not sure if it's because it's tinier and faster or because it's appearance is so sudden. Either way, you shriek. You recoil before you can control your reaction. Shooting at it would probably be smarter, but in your panic, you don't want to blow a hole through Carlos's foot. You just jerk back and accidentally send yourself tumbling into a bush.

Luckily, he's quick to get to it, not discharging his weapon at all. He simply stomps on it with his large boot. It squishes beneath the sole and splatters on the dirt. His eyes then turn to you in the foliage.

Laughing a little, he heads over to you and parts the leaves. He looks at you with that same smug expression and extends a hand.

"Need some help down there?" he asks.

You glare at him but still accept the offer. It would be easier to get out of this mess of branches and little pink flowers with his aid. You reach out and wrap your fingers around his palm, feeling the warmth of it in your grasp. He pulls you up, and you shamefully watch his bicep flex as he does.

On the way to your feet though, he hisses in pain.

"Ah, fuck," he mutters, letting go of you as soon as you're upright.

He pulls back and brings his arm to his body, holding it there and examining the source of pain. You step closer to try and look too. Your eyes catch the sight of the injury almost right away. It would be hard for anyone to miss.

A red stripe spans from the outer side of his forearm to up just past his elbow. The ending of the cut seems like a deep gash while the beginning is only a thin line. Blood already begins to trickle onto his skin. It looks like a thorn had snagged him while helping you off the ground.

You pull a small cloth from the pouch attached to your belt.

"Here, let me see," you offer, your voice softer as your mind snaps into a more caring frame. It's the one you used to use everyday when you worked as a medic. Before you had been roped into this mess with mercenaries.

He offers his limb up to you without resistance. If there was anyone he trusted to look at him, it was you. After most missions, he stayed with the doctors Umbrella provided for the mandatory observation period, but you were the one to actually patch him up. With you, there were no ulterior motives or chances of being double-crossed. You wanted to help people, and that's what you did for him.

You do it right now as you take the small piece of material and dab up the crimson fluid seeping from his wound. He grunts as you get closer to the source.

"Sorry," you say. You try extra to remain gentle, lightly swiping at the edges of the injury. "Looks like a piece of the plant caught you. I can take a better look at it later, but for now, you should be fine. You're not bleeding too much," you tell him.

He nods and gets back to holding his weapon in the proper position. The two of you continue onward in the direction of your target. You only hope you've seen the last of those spiders.

Fortunately, your wish had been granted. You and Carlos hadn't encountered any more spiders, big or small, for the rest of the mission. The path to the objective from the sight of the last one had been pretty easy, presenting no real challenges.

The two of you made it back to the nearest Umbrella base for the night following a short ride there. You had to get checked out first and now stay overnight for the waiting period as was the procedure for all field operatives. The idea was to ensure you all didn't harbor any infections that remained undetected during the examination. But after that, you'd be home free.

You'd already completed the mandatory screening with the doctor. After finding nothing out of the ordinary, you headed to the assigned room they'd given you for the next twelve hours. It was pretty small, just a bed, table, chair, and shelf. You didn't need anything more though.

You change out of your grimy cargo pants and black sweater and pull on a much more comfortable pair of gray sweats and a t-shirt matching in color. Laying on the stiff mattress, you take a few moments to decompress from the earlier events. Your body seems to hold a dull ache all over, something you attribute to the heightened stress you experienced for hours on end. Your adrenaline has started to wear off, and as it recedes, the ability to feel in entirety returns.

Some time goes by, and Carlos knocks on the frame of your door. It feels like only moments have passed, but in reality, you're sure it's closer to thirty minutes. You look up at him with curious eyes.

"You need something?" you ask.

He walks in, and you see he's also changed. A charcoal t-shirt covers his upper body while gray sweatpants adorn his waist. You try to keep your gaze casual although it would be obvious to anyone with eyes that he looks statuesque in them.

"I was wondering if you're too tired to take another look?" he asks.

Sitting up, you pat the space next to you on the small bed. "Never too tired for my favorite patient," you answer with a small smile.

He returns the fond expression and takes a seat. You take your medical pouch off the table next to the bed. Unzipping it, you pull out the few things you predict you'll need. He rolls up his sleeve even though it's not necessary, allowing you to see his arm in full glory.

"You know they do have doctors here. Ones with much better equipment than me," you say teasingly as you rip open a small cleaning wipe.

He looks at you and shrugs. "I doubt they'd know how to use it as well," he says.

You shake your head and rub the alcohol-soaked patch across his wound. He hisses from the sting but manages to hold still. Your fingers work as quickly as they can, not wanting to prolong his suffering. You clean the dried blood off and make sure the open cut has been completely tended to. But your eyes narrow as you look at his skin.

"The doctors did look at you, right?" you ask.

"Yeah, why?" he responds.

"They cleared you?" you check.

And he nods. Maybe he was right not to trust them.

"Well, this doesn't really look normal," you say with uncertainty, "You have some discoloration around the cut. Your veins look a bit darker than they should. It could be an infection."

His eyes find yours. You can see in his stare that he's looking for reassurance.

"Does it hurt at all?" you continue.

"No. I mean, a little. Feels like I have a giant scrape on my arm. But not more than normal," he says.

A puff of air leaves your nose as you try to think. "Hm. You might be ok then, could be just some abnormal pigmentation," you offer, "I've never seen an infection manifest this fast, but if it were already showing, you'd probably have some symptoms too."

"So you think I'll live?" he jokes.

You scoff and nudge his arm away, putting up a playful front. 

"Don't ask me that," you say. 

In truth, you didn't want to think about Carlos dying. You'd seen so many people die since joining this task force. Your worst fear when coming into work was seeing that happen to the one you care most about.

"Alright," he concedes and surrenders, but his attitude doesn't dampen any.

You pull up your small roll of gauze next and begin to bandage him up. With careful hands, you rotate the thin material around his forearm, making sure to cover the entire scratch in a durable layer. The room is so quiet. There's no sounds except for the two of you breathing. You're tempted to say something and cut through the silence, but you don't. The moment feels intimate. It feels wrong to try and interrupt it.

When you finish wrapping his arm, you tear the gauze and tuck it under to keep it in place. Clearing your throat, you pat his shoulder and give him another sweet smile.

"All done," you say.

"Do I get a reward for being so well-behaved?" he asks. His voice lowers, and he leans in the slightest bit closer to you.

Heat blooms in your stomach and spreads up to your chest, but you'd never let him see the effect he has on you.

"Get outta here," you say and give him a light push.

He laughs and rises to his feet. He heads over to the door but doesn't leave before turning back to look at you again.

"Thanks, sharpshooter," he says.

"You got it, soldier," you respond with a small mock salute.

He shuts the door behind him after that. You put your things back in your pouch and lay back in bed again. A sudden wave of tiredness crashes into you. Sighing, you rub your face and yawn. Tonight it didn't seem like you'd have any trouble sleeping, a rare blessing as of late.

Rolling over, you wince as you feel a small burst of pain in the back of your thigh. You're so exhausted though that you chalk it up to a pulled muscle and resign to check it out when you wake. All you really want to do right now is knock out until the sun is up and the transport vehicle is ready to drop you off at the airport to go home.

It's still dark out when your eyes flutter open. The lids feel heavy with sleep. Your brain wants to be unconscious again, but something has pulled you from the comfort of sleep. It might be the fact that you're burning up.

Your entire body feels as though fire rages within it. Sweat coats your skin and causes your t-shirt to stick to you. You can feel your pillowcase beneath your head damp with it. You sit up, but you have to do so slowly because of how the simple motion causes the room to spin. You try to blink the dizziness away to no avail.

Once you're upright, you feel more conscious though. You're able to better assess your symptoms and maybe pinpoint the cause. You register that you feel tingly. Fizzling sparks rampage all throughout your body; though, the most intense area seems to be the back of your thigh. You peel down your sweats a bit and arch your back to try and get a look.

Your eyes widen as you find a puncture wound with the same discoloration you saw on Carlos.

Fuck, you must have landed on a thorn in that bush and not realized it with everything else going on. Panic rushes through you at the thought of being infected with something that shows symptoms so fast, but a more intense surge of it floods you when you realize that this means Carlos has it too.

You try to get out of bed to go inform him of your discovery, but a round of cramps doubles you over and has you curling up on the twin-sized mattress to ride out the pain. Small whimpers exit your lips. They were so intense, worse than any period cramps or stomach aches you'd ever experienced.

They start to ease up after about a minute, but it's then that you begin to notice the constant throbbing between your thighs. In the midst of all this other stuff coming to light in your groggy condition, you hadn't really noted how consistent it was, but it seems to have grown stronger after that bout of pain.

A strong pulse emanates from your clit. You whine and shove your hand in your panties to try and rub it away. A few strokes bring little pleasure, but not enough to ward it off for good.

You realize your breasts feel heavy too. With every breath you take, they call out for a pair of hands to cup them and squeeze them, to fondle them and toy with your nipples. Just some form of stimulation.

Your legs bend up to your chest while your hand still fruitlessly fumbles around between your thighs. You whimper in frustration now. These symptoms are unlike any of the infections you've encountered in your career. You're not sure what to do.

As you're trying to formulate some sort of plan, your door opens. Carlos stumbles in. He looks to be in the same condition as you. The gray fabric of his t-shirt is soaked in sweat at the underarms and neckline. His skin glimmers in the dim light while he looks at you with hooded eyes. The door shuts behind him, and the air between you feels thick. His scent drifts to you across the room, making you squeeze your thighs together hard with desire.

It takes everything you have to not lunge across the room and pounce on him like an animal in heat. From the strained expression on his face, it's not a wild guess to imagine he feels similar. He's panting, leaning against the wall for support.

"Safe to say we're infected with something, huh?" he chokes out.

You turn your head and nod against your pillow, unable to bring yourself to look at him anymore. If you did that, you wouldn't be able to control your reaction.

"What should we do?" he asks.

You have no clue how he's managing to stand or speak or even think through these questions. All your mind can conjure at the moment are visions of him on top of you. They're so vivid you can almost feel the sensations of them. You see him above you with your legs over his shoulders, plowing into your cunt with no reserve or hesitation. Visions of you on your stomach also flash through your mind. You picture him with an iron grip on your hips, pumping his thick, meaty cock into your dripping hole over and over and over.

It's enough to bring a moan out of you. Carlos winces at the sound, and he approaches your bed. You're visibly faring worse than him. Maybe it's because you have a puncture wound, and he has a simple scratch. Or maybe it's just a difference in your biology. You're not sure, and there's no way you're going to figure it out while you feel like this.

He cautiously lays a hand on your arm, and you moan again. But this time the sound is so much needier. It echoes between the four walls of this small bedroom, the volume enough to cause concern that you would wake other employees here. He pulls his hand back and looks down at you. Your hips rock on your hand, humping it desperately in an attempt for friction.

Your eyes crack open and cast onto him. You intend to look up at his face, but with where he's standing, right at eye level is the huge tent in his pants.

His cock strains against the gray material. You can see the outline perfectly. The sight makes your mouth water. You don't know what's happening with you. Sure, you'd always found Carlos attractive. Maybe you could say you have a little crush on him, but it was never anything so raw. You thought he was charming more than anything. Never before had you just wanted to tear off both your own and his clothes and start going at it.

He sees where your eyes lock on, and he feels a strong burst of arousal in his stomach.

"Hey, hey. Look at me," he instructs and pushes you by the shoulder onto your back.

You look up into his eyes. Your mind finds peace in them. They're serene and calm and offer a sense of comfort despite every other part of your body going haywire.

Your own hand reaches up and wraps around his wrist. You tug his palm down onto your breast. His brows raise, but he makes no move to pull it away. Instead, he gives the mound a squeeze, relishing the way you arch your back and mewl for him.

"Wait," he tries to resist, tries to be the responsible one, "Are you sure we should... do this kind of stuff? What if it makes this worse? We don't know what's happening yet."

If you weren't so wound up, you'd probably laugh at the way he poses the question. The man who could flirt with you like there was no tomorrow asking if you should do "stuff." But you don't laugh because "stuff" is all you want to do.

"I don't know what's happening. All I know is I need you," you rasp and start pulling his arm more, trying to get his entire body on top of your own.

He half indulges you, beginning to climb on the bed before stopping above you. Looking down at your lust-stricken form, he wants you so bad. His cock leaks precum with the urge to just slip inside. But at the same time, Carlos does like you. Really likes you. It isn't a maybe with him - he has a crush on you. And while thoughts of you spread beneath him happen to be what he jerks off to each morning in the shower, part of him can't help worrying that if he takes advantage of this, things between you two will shift and fracture.

"Are... are you sure?" he asks. Words are hard when your scent clouds the air around him and you look up at him with needy eyes like this.

You want to tell him to stop talking and just fuck you senseless already, but your lust-stricken brain seems to comprehend that in order to get fucked dumb, you have to handle his concerns first.

"I want it. I need you inside me. Please just give it to me," you whine. Your legs squirm, and you tug on him again. He's still hesitant. Looking into his eyes, you whimper, "You'll still be my favorite."

And that's apparently good enough for him. That brief statement of reassurance shatters the thin pane of resistance he had left. After hearing those words, he collapses on top of you in a flurry of passion. His lips collide with yours. He pants against your face and squeezes your hips.

Your tongues meet and slide against each other as your mouths move. One of your hands slides around the back of his head to grip his shaggy, dark locks. He groans and bucks his hips against your thigh. Your other hand rubs his chest, fingers digging into the muscle with desire.

He leans back for a split second and rips off his shirt. Under more delicate circumstances, you probably would have admired his sculpted figure. You would have traced your fingertips along the defined lines of his abs, swirled the delicate pads around his nipples and up to his collarbone. 

But not right now.

You don't possess the ability to move with that much focus or care right now. Instead, you reach out and pull him back down again, almost crushing yourself with his bulky frame. It's worth it though because you lick up his happy trail, tracing your tongue over the contours of his muscles. He moans from the light touch before scooting down so he can remove your shirt and have access to your breasts.

"Look at these. Fuck," he says in awe. He gropes them, hands rough as they feel up the plump flesh.

He lowers himself on top of you again and kisses down your collarbone to your chest. You whimper as his mouth glides over the swells of your breasts before latching onto one nipple. He sucks with fervor, eyes fluttering shut as he focuses on the task. You gasp and moan. Between your legs, he ruts against the mattress.

His tongue swirls around your stiffening bud. He laves the smooth wetness over it a few times before switching to the other and giving it the same treatment.

"Been wanting to see these tits so fuckin' bad," he mumbles.

"You have?" you whimper, still squirming from the attention directed at your chest.

"Course I have. Those tight little sweaters you wear, the way they bounce every time you fucking move. God, drives me crazy," he mutters.

He spends some more time on your breasts before relenting and shoving down his sweats. His cock all but jumps out, eager for some attention as well.

"I've been wanting to see that so bad," you breathe.

You have to rub your thighs together once you get a look at his length. It's long and meaty just like you predicted. There are prominent veins spanning from the base upward. The tip is already leaking for you, oozing sticky white precum. His heavy balls hang below. All you can think about is how bad you need them drained inside of you.

He tears off your soaked panties and wastes no time slotting himself at your wanting hole. With both of you in frenzies of carnality, there's no teasing. He doesn't rub it over your folds or work himself in. No. In one go, he slams himself inside. A deep, guttural sound rumbles in his chest while a breathy whine erupts from you.

Your eyes roll back while your toes curl down below. You nearly cum from that stroke alone. He just fits you so perfectly. Even through the amorous fog that clouds your mind, you can't help wondering why you didn't do this sooner.

Just like in the flashes you saw minutes ago, his hands clamp around your waist. He doesn't take time to set a pace or give you a few moments to adjust to the girth of him. As soon as he's had the first taste of that warm, wet heat, he's slamming in and out of your little pussy with no thought.

His hot skin slaps against yours. Both of you pant with exertion while the cot below you scrapes against the concrete floor. Your legs bend upwards and you hold them to make sure nothing gets in the way of his thrusts.

Each time his cock slides all the way in, you think you see heaven. Your vision blots with white and then splotches of color. Your brain feels as though it's melting out your ears in the most blissful sensation. You're pretty sure you don't actually need thoughts anymore. Why would you when this seems like the only thing you'll wanna do ever again?

You bounce around with his strength pounding against you. Your head bobbles while your tits sway up and down. His head has been tilted back for a while, but he drops it now to look at the sight of you before him.

"Fuck, baby. You take my dick like you were made for it," he grunts.

Your walls squeeze him tight as a reward for saying that. He groans and fucks into you harder. The rhythm breaks for a moment. He has to slow down to deliver the small collection of particularly harsh thrusts.

With each one, his tip rams further inside you. The fourth one strikes some trigger inside you that rips a yelp from you and rockets you over the edge. Your body shudders hard beneath him while your walls spasm desperately.

"Hnghhh- Carlos- ah! You're fuckinmesogood," you babble out, eyes drooping so much they're practically closed.

You hear him growl above you and then feel his weight collapse onto your body. Your thighs are smooshed between the two of you, keeping you bent in half. He's as deep as physically possible now. That you're certain of. His cock kisses the opening of your womb with each jolt of his pelvis, making you cry out in an intoxicating mix of pleasure and pain.

His head closes in on yours, connecting the two of you in a sloppy kiss. You move without sense. Every action stems from a place of pure desire.

He knows he's getting close. And he also knows he should pull out. But he honestly doesn't know if he can right now. He's burning so hot for you that in his head, the loss of your tight walls wrapped around him may seriously result in death. It doesn't just feel good, it's pure euphoria. He's not even at the peak yet, but this feeling right now is more intense than any orgasm he's had before.

"Fuck-" he growls, trying to work up the will to slide back and burst on your stomach instead. His mouth falls away from yours, landing against the crook of your neck. "You're making this so hard for me, sweetheart," he grumbles.

You're so shaky and blissed out that the words almost pass you by, but his close proximity allows you to catch them. You know what he means without him having to say it because you feel it too. A deep yearning in the most carnal recesses of your soul, a craving for him to sate the most base desire burning within you.

"Just do it," you whimper, lazily rolling your hips up, "Cum inside."

His muscles tense. You can feel them twitching against you.

"Don't say that," he breathes.

A petulant whine seeps from between your lips. You pull him closer by the shoulders with more force, digging your nails into the skin.

"Finish inside, Carlos. Pleaseeeeee," you try again, "I'll worry about it later. Just need you to fill me up so fucking bad."

His resolve chips away piece by piece with each strike from your pleas. Reasons to detach from you that had seemed logical moments ago lose whatever little appeal they had. His mind feels overcome by the desire to pump you full of his release, to fuck his seed deep inside your awaiting cunt, to let it take.

With a rough snap, he throws his head back and groans. His fingers dig into the plush flesh of your hips. The high overcomes him in a powerful blow, whisking the air from his lungs. It makes him feel lightheaded, actions completely guided by impulse created under the influence of whatever that plant had sapped into the two of you.

Hot, thick ropes of cum shoot against your inner walls. You whine at the sensation, eyes fluttering and rolling back in satisfaction. He works it into you over and over till the urge is sated.

Finally, he feels like he won't lose all capability to function if he pulls out. He eases his hips back, slowly freeing himself from the sinful confines of your slick walls. Every inch he reveals shimmers with the combined gloss of his and your fluids. It coats the area between your thighs thoroughly, marking the site of your connection.

While the throbbing in your clit and the burning throughout your bones has lessened, dull remnants of them remain. Your chest puffs up and down as you catch your breath and recover from the intensity of before. The air still feels thick, just less like a landmine than before.

But when you gaze down between the two of you, your eyes land on his cock. He's still fully hard. The shaft stands forward proudly while the tip remains darkened in color. His need for more of you plainly visible to anyone who looked.

Your eyes flit from it up to his eyes, connecting in a tentative stare. The question between the two of you is left unspoken. Neither of you really need the words to understand that you both want more.

His hands fly to your waist again and flip you over onto your stomach. Your face squishes against the pillows as he boosts your hips to the right angle and slides right back inside. You whine at the intrusion, fingers gripping the pillow for some way to ground yourself.

He gives your ass a firm smack before leaning forward and boxing you in beneath him. You have no way of knowing for sure, but you're almost certain the thrusts reach deeper now. He's moving at the same frantic pace from before, yet every stroke feels like it bumps a sweet spot within you. That or you're just more sensitive from your previous release.

You can hear him panting in your ear as he pounds you into the mattress. Every small grunt and soft growl drifts out behind your head.

"Fuck... think we should just do this till we're all better," he murmurs and nips at your shoulder.

"Mhm," you whine, arching your back and pushing your hips against him further. The next set of words comes out slurred and muffled both from your position against the pillow and the blurry state of your mind. "Never wanna stop. Just want you all the time."

He huffs out a laugh. "Yeah? That's what you wanna do, huh? Let me fuck you nonstop? Use you till you can't fucking move anymore? Breed you till I've had my fill?"

You mewl sharply and nod eagerly. "Uh huh, give it all to me till- ah! mmm... till we're both better," you whimper.

Skin continues slapping against skin in the otherwise quiet of the room. In the back of your mind, you wonder how far down the hall the sound echoes. It's a fleeting thought though, quickly overwhelmed by the repeated thoughts of how good you feel.

"Yeah? Maybe a baby in your belly is what you need. Maybe that's what we're supposed to do. Can't get this thing out of our system till we meet nature's demands," he rasps.

He doesn't even know what he's saying. He assumes the sudden desire to procreate comes from the infection, but the words feel as though they blossom from somewhere deeper. Whatever the case, it's obvious you like them. You clamp around his cock like you're trying to drain him dry.

"I'd probably fuck you like this every night if I saw you nice and round with my baby, sweetheart. Fuck, you'd look so good. Swollen in all the right places, aching for me to take care of you," he mumbles out.

"Give it to me. Want it so bad. Wanna... mmm fuck," you trail off, panting out the lasts of your desires.

The peak builds much faster for you two this time around. You squeeze around him till your rhythmic convulsions devolve into a burst of spasms. His thrusts land hard throughout his high, but you feel his muscles tense as he pumps another load into you.

Drops of his spend leak from your cunt and smear against both of your skin. This time he doesn't even bother pulling out. He knows he's still hard and that he has one, if not more, rounds in him. He keeps fucking you hard, through your cries of overstimulation and desperate squirming.

The rest of the night is a blur. You don't count how many times you go at it or keep track of the variety of positions you do it in. You know at one point you were on top, at another your head dangled off the edge of the mattress and bobbled around like that of a doll's. The intense passion and lust pervades all memories and casts the experience in a hazy fog.

All you're sure of is that now you feel better. For the moment, the two of you are satisfied, your bodies no longer alive with an electric craving for one another. Your head rests on his chest while the rest of you presses against his side. His hand rubs up and down your back in lazy, thoughtless strokes.

Neither of you say anything. Dashes of sunlight begin to shine through the windows that sit high on the wall. Both of you bask in the calm of the moment as you grapple with what happened.

"You think that cured us?" he asks softly after a while.

You pause before shrugging. "Can't say for sure, we'll have to wait and see," you say, looking up at him.

Somewhere inside of you, you believe that was it. That was the magic fix. You're almost certain that you fucked whatever that was out of your systems, but you want to be honest with him. Still, you can't help offering a little reassurance.

"We'll be ok," you say with a small smile.

He returns it. "If you're the one taking care of me, I don't doubt that," he teases.

You hum and squeeze your arms around his waist. Questions of a changed relationship status or potential future together going forward plague your mind, but you know it's not the time. If your supervisors hadn't heard the racket coming from in here, they'd realize something was up as soon as you and Carlos emerged from the same bedroom. You decide to take what semblance of peace with him you can get before having to face a possible onslaught of hazmat suits and probing tests.

Your eyes flutter shut as the beating of his heart lulls you into a state of peace. Even without the confirmation, you aren't worried about your connection. You're pretty confident that he'll be more than just your favorite patient in the coming weeks.

[drgnflyteabox]

Mdni - ancient rome again?!?!?! Noncon, soap is a freak, you're a Roman goddess purr

Ancient rome!Soap who had served proudly in the army and been honourably discharged for an injury that left him unable to wield a weapon.

Soap who refuses to take that lying down, refuses to retire, who - even though it was honourable - feels slighted by the armys dismissal of him.

Ancient Roman!soap who goes on a little ego quest, hiking for weeks until he reaches your shrine - a long forgotten goddess, you're so lonely :''''(

Even though he's mortal, you entertain him. He hunts and offers you half, he picks mountain flowers for you, he gives you gold coins, oils, little drawings. Everything he brought and can find.

You slowly start appearing to him first as little creatures. A bird, a fawn, a kitten. Soap stays very still, letting you get comfortable, letting you approach him first.

When you show him your human body, he can't help his Cheshire cat grin. He's sitting cross-legged near your statue, muscles taut and primed.

Soap had gotten you to trust him, yes, to show him yourself weakened and mortal. He'd been so patient all this time.

It only made your cries sweeter when he pushed you down in the dry, fragrant grass, and fucked you for the first time. Your cunt is so warm, snug around him, tits bouncing with the ferocity of his thrusts.

Up close like this you looked just like a regular person, red and flushed and squeaking when he leaned down to bite your nipples, your collarbone. Both wrists held in one hand, the other forcing your thigh to the ground. Your pussy squeezes desperately around him, wet despite your pleas.

Now he can brag again, now he's a worthy son of Rome. He's fucked a goddess, he's tied her to him forever with the baby he puts in you, tethering you to him and his world :')

Sigh