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paradlselost · 8 days ago

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MOUTHWASHING

unfortunately i’m extremely busy now and don’t have the time to finish these , so enjoy 3 unfinished mouthwashing fanfictions ! none of these are beta read either so i’m sorry ):

UPTOWN GIRL

captain curly x female reader

Two-hundred fifty-three days, seventeen hours, and twenty-nine minutes. Thats how long the last voyage had taken, how long it had been since hes seen you. A hand moves up to run through his hair, parting the messy blonde waves in an attempt to smooth himself up. A good impression, thats what he needed, and some courage.

Jimmy has been relentless in making fun of him and his infatuation; a one-sided romance he often thinks far too much about for any self respecting captain, at least, according to his co-pilot. But really, he can’t help it. The stupid smile that forms on his face at the mere thought of who was waiting for him back home - or who he was hoping was waiting. It had crept up on him once or twice, maybe you’ve decided not to be patient and god knows he wouldn’t find out until his return. Its a sour thought, one that festers in the back of his mind on those late, sleepless nights. But he fights through them, pushes them away, a man can hope.

Perhaps he’s too much like an excited puppy, wagging his tail as the ship finally lands back at the Pony Express docking area. The others get to go out first, Swansea’s wife no doubt waiting for him like she always is; and to invite the others over for dinner once more, much to the mechanic’s dismay. What’s one more dinner after nearly a year of them? Regardless, as captain, it’s Curly’s duty to stay behind and double check the ship. Anything broken or faulty or out of place that isn’t reported will come out of their paychecks.

Minutes feel like hours as he does the final inspection, finally stepping off the ship platform, clipboard in hand. The warehouse is filled with people, though only Swansea’s family seemed to have made it, hes grumpy, but Curly can tell he truly is happy to be home with them. The rest are mechanics, working on the outside of the ship where it has been scraped by small asteroids. Putting the Tulpar back together, but not too much so because god forbid everything on the damn ship runs smoothly.

“Welcome back Captain, those for me?” The overseer steps over to him, the first person to greet him after his long voyage. Despite the smile on the mans face, his eyes are less than pleased and Curly knows that the man truly does not care about the people working for him, only for the paperwork that he can scrutinize and find things to dock pay over.

“Yes sir. Everything’s in there.” He matches the demenour of the other man, polite but professional as he hands over the files and clipboard. Everything on board, every incident and bi-montly psych eval. Ever since Jimmy had joined the crew the number of reports has had to go up, and despite Curly’s insistence that he shape up, it seems he has a difficult time not being an asshole.

“Very well, thank you.” The overseer doesn’t say much else before he steps away with the paperwork, back to his office to hand to his secretary to mull over. It’s out of the captains hands now, and his mind is quickly off the prospect pay dock when he finally spots you.

You, you, you, smiling and chatting with Anya as if the two of you had seen each other just the other day. You’re always here to cheer the group up when they return, to be a friendly face where families aren’t. His legs move before his brain, walking up to where the two of you are chatting without much thought. He wants to see you, to hear your voice so much its teetering on a need.

Of course, he’s interrupted by the sudden appearance of Swansea’s wife. Another smiling face, holding a small basket of those baked goods she always brought on their return. Despite his urgency, he stops to make polite conversation with the older woman. The mechanic is already being ‘forced’ to carry one of his daughters on his shoulders. Curly’s heart aches slightly, perhaps he can have that himself.

“It’s so good to see you, honey, and thank you for keeping him in check. I’m sure he was absolutely grumpy the whole trip.”

“Haha well, you know him. ‘ve only ever really seen him smile when he’s finally repaired something thats been bugging him for days, or when he gets home and sees you guys.”

“You’re sweet. Oh, I made you those cookies you like as a thank you.” She reaches up, gently pinching the cheek of his freckled face before she hands him the basket.

“I should be thanking you for these, they’re amazing.”

“Mom, dad said hes going to take us out for dinner! Lets go lets go lets go!” One of Swansea’s daughters runs up to her mother, taking her hand and only allowing the woman to get a small ‘goodbye’ in before shes whisked off.

Curly blinks a few times, finally now having the time to go up and talk to you, though you’re no where to be seen. Anya is gone as well, probably already going to her locker to get changed back into her normal clothes and get out of here. Jimmy left ages ago, storming out as soon as he had the chance, and you? He has no clue where you’ve gone.

With a soft sigh he begins to walk, making his way out of the busy warehouse room and down an empty hallway to get into his locker room. All his belongings that were deemed not essential sit in that metal container, along with his clothes. It’ll be nice to get out of the Pony Express jumpsuit in the very least, even if he is still bummed about not getting to see you. You’re all he thinks about when he’s away, his infatuation getting so bad some days he finds it hard to focus on the task of being an actual captain.

“Are you leaving without saying hello?” Your voice startles him out of his thoughts as he quickly turns around to see you. A soft smile plays on your face, head tilted to the side as you tease him. God, he’s missed you.

“I tried, but I got preoccupied and then you were gone.” He points out, his tone is accusatory but only playfully. He could never be mean to you, never be upset with you. You’re everything to him, the only thing that keeps him motivated to come back to Pony Express when he could most definitely find a better job with the experience he’s gathered.

“My father called me away.”

Right, the overseer and dear old dad to you. It’s why he isn’t too forward, why his glances are in secret and swift. He can drink you in during times like these, when theres no one around to spread rumors about one of the best captains flirting with the bosses daughter.

I DONT WANT TO SEE

TOMORROW

daisuke x female reader

Soulless eyes follow you as you walk through the metal halls, posters lining the walls that all stare down at you. Judging, watching, as if any slip up will be recorded and used to taunt you on that paycheck at the end of the voyage. Polle is everywhere, goading you with its presence like a mischievous deity; riding a rocket, trapped under boxes, waking up, standing in the lounge. Mocking.

Your hands rest against the bottom of the pile of boxes you carry, relying solely on your internal navigation of the layout of the ship to get around as your vision has been blocked. Headphones rest against your ears, attached to the mp3 player at your hip. Nat King Cole croons through the waves, the song looping back on itself to meet the choir at the beginning once more. Thirty-five days you’ve been up here, just over a month and so far the music you deemed essential to bring on the trip has been your only real sense of company.

Your crewmembers are nice in the very least, everyone but Jimmy. Instinctively you know to stay away from him; to make polite conversation only when he initiates it. There is something wrong with him that effects the rest of the crew, like a parasite that digs under your skin and no amount of scratching or bleeding can free you from its presence. Everyone else simply does their own thing - Swansea stays in the Utility room most of the day, obsessing over fixing that stupid vent Pony Express didn’t even bother touching. Daisuke is emotional support, despite being a last minute addition you’re sure the voyage would be a lot more gloomy and boring without the resident ray of sunshine aboard. Captain Curly is great, truly, he seems to understand people very well and is understanding - though his inclusion of Jimmy on the trip gives you pause.

Anya is the only one you feel a true kinship with. Despite being squeamish she tries her best, you can tell. When Daisuke burned himself with one of Swansea’s tools she was quick to bandage him up and its a bit sad to know she never truly made it through medical school because she deserves better than being on the Tulpar of all places. Besides, the two of you are roommates; which means secrets whispered in the dark of the room and a certain amount of trust placed in each other.

Tomorrow, so I hear, the clouds will disappear. The door to happiness will open wide… The lyrics are murmured under your breath, listening to the same song for the uptenth time allowing you to put yourself on autopilot to get your daily chores done. Cleaning has already been completed, running diagnostics in the cockpit to make sure everything is going smoothly, now you are on restocking - hence an ungodly pile of boxes you carry to and fro. You watch, out of the corner of your eye, the posters that you pass. Giddy up galaxy, lend a hand, rise and shine, don’t be daft. You have to hand it to them, they somehow managed to make the soulless Polle look almost likeable in the little illustrations. Like one of the crew, a confidant and friend and not someone who will dock your pay if you sleep in a minute longer than you’re supposed to.

A huff falls from your lips as you step up to one of the walkways, the door that you specifically remember leaving open now closed and you know taking a hand off these boxes will result in a huge mess. You try your hip, shoulder, and even leg but the damn thing doesn’t budge. You’re ready to set the boxes you have strategically stacked in order to get it open when you hear muffled talking behind you. Nudging your headphone off your ear with your shoulder, you turn to attempt to look at whos speaking and it doesn’t take your vision to decipher the upbeat tone as Daisuke.

“Do you need some help?” Part of you doesn’t think you’ve ever been so grateful to hear his voice, usually hes pestering you about something Swansea has said while you’re in the middle of doing your job, but that goofy smile on his face is a welcome sight today.

“Please. Someone closed the door.”

“Probably Jimmy, I saw him going down to the cockpit. Hey, is one of those boxes for the Utility room? Swansea has been buggin’ me to grab some more of those little wire tie thingies.”

“Yeah, top box. Actually if you could grab it that would be great, then I just have medical and the lounge to restock.”

He nods and grabs at the one on top, making an exasperated grunting sound as if it was a lot heavier than he’d expected, though him moving it allows you to finally see over the other two you carry. Immediately, you’re greeted with the sight of a lollipop in his mouth. You furrow your brows, tilting your head to the side as if trying to figure out how the hell hes’s managed to hide contraband like candy for this long, and more importantly, why he hasn’t shared.

“No way, how did you get that on here? I had to practically threaten to sue so they’d allow me to keep my music.”

“I’m amazing at hiding things.” A shit-eating grin spreads on his face as he pops it out of his mouth, the red candy a bright contrast to the bleak grey walls. “Honestly this is the longest i’ve managed to keep my halloween candy.”

“Halloween was like eight months ago.”

“Yeah, its a little stale because i forgot about it in my garage at home, but I mean its candy! Here, have one.”

He sets the box down on the ground in front of him and reaches into his hawaiian shirt poocket, pulling out two more of those lollipops as well as quite a few crumpled up post-it notes. He’s sweet, really, and with a grin you shuffle to be able to grab one from him. The boxes you hold teeter on being held by only one hand, but you quickly unwrap it and put the candy into your mouth before fixing them to be stable once more.

You give him a soft, thankful smile before he is called away by a relatively grumpy sounding Swansea. The candy tastes amazing as you continue on your way to medical. Its sweet, not overly so and not fake tasting like the sweetener packets provided by Pony Express. A taste of home, a reminder of what is back on Earth and everything you’ll get to experience again after this trip.

HELLO , GOODBYE

{ cw } depictions of gore and body horror . jimmy . au ized

Do you feel it? How God has forsaken you? Your blood is tainted; screaming for retribution. What do you see in those soulless eyes? Broken muzzle scattered across the floor, white foam splattered with crimson. You are an uninvited guest to this birthday, everyone else wears their party hats; you have not been given one and yet you have brought a gift for the birthday boy. You are too kind, too good to be treated like this.

“Jesus.” A hand clasps over your mouth to block out the smell. Something has died here, you’ve been sent on enough rescue missions to know the scent of decay; how people turn on each other when given the first plausible opportunity. Can they be blamed? Can you?

The lounge is empty, an axe thrown into the large screen dancing with yellow and orange pixels. A sunrise, you presume, a dawn of a new day and hope for these poor souls trapped here - or, whoever is left. Part of you hopes there is no one, that corpses are the only thing left because surely whatever has survived all these months can no longer be considered human. A monster stalks the halls, you can feel its eyes boring into your back no matter where you turn.

The Polle Pony statue is broken, the fiberglass pieces crunching below your boots. Eyes turn to look down at what is left: unfixable, but that isnt your job. Besides, you’ve always found nothing behind those smiling eyes, would it be worth fixing anyways? So you kick it away, turning its gaze from the horrors that its indirectly caused. How silly is it that a fucking mascot gets closure before everyone else?

“Hello?” A voice calls through the dead silence of the ship, knocking you out of your thoughts. It is faint, weak, as if someone or something was gathering the rest of its strength to call out to you. In a moment, you begin to walk through the old ship halls, lights flickering and dimming as the power continues to drain. No doubt the television screen draws too much to itself, greedy and selfish. Taking and taking only to produce false hope that anyone left in this tin bucket might see a sunrise once more. You’ve fallen for the facade yourself, hook line and sinker into the false blazing yellow sun.

“Hello? Where are you?” Your voice calls back, hand resting on the Pony Express issued firearm holstered at your side. You wont fire - instinctively you know you are too afraid to kill anything and you thank whatever diety is listening that you havent had to fight off a cannibalistic lunatic yet in your rescues.

You step over piles and piles of discarded containers, lights just bright enough to make out the branding. Blue mouthwash. You can taste it on your tongue, a sickly sweet mint promising to chase away the bad and return you to salvation. A lie, another thing you’ve fallen for. Is this what the ship was carrying? Is this all these lives are worth, a few hundred boxes of a promise to kill ninety-nine point nine percent of germs? Perhaps its a good thing in its own way - the automation, afterall: does an artificial mind yearn for anything more than what the limitations of its creator has decided?

You stand in front of the door to the medical bay, an eeriely warm light flooding through the crack at the bottom. Calm, safe. Reaching for the handle and pulling it open you are met with quite a sight, spotless and clean just as it should be and yet completely at odds with the rest of the ship. Blue dividers have been set up, obscuring your view of the beds and in turn, whatever is on them. Little orange containers are neatly stacked on the counter, painkillers, it seems, beside them sits a radio.

“Hello, hello. I don’t know why y- Hello hello, I don’t know why y-” The same song line repeats itself, stuck on the chorus of a Beatles song. Your eyebrows furrow together, reaching out to turn the volume down; had that been what you were hearing? Was there truly no one left on the ship? Perhaps you’d be lucky if that was the case, but the silhouette behind the dividers causes doubt to bubble in your chest. Whatever it is, whoever they might be, they only produce a sound when the music is quieted. A deep, almost animalistic grumbling.

Courage takes a few moments to build in you, debating on if you should simply run back to your own ship and mark the Tulpar as destroyed. Sure, Pony Express will take the failure out of your paycheck but was the money worth potentially your life? Yes, you decide, and your hand grabs at the blue curtains to pull them aside. In front of you sits a disfigured being, poorly bandaged and amputated. For a few moments you wonder if they are even alive, but your suspicions are deemed false by the shallow breathing of the person; as if any movement causes immense pain.

Hesitantly, you step forward into the room created by the dividers, getting a better look at whoever this was. Bile forms at the back of your throat, threatening to creep up and gag you. Pity dances in your eyes; a human response for someone whose been stripped of theirs. The lights that dance above the bed are dim compared to the others in the room, almost as if they have been darkened by something, perhaps the person lying below them. Skin has been burned off, bandages covering not nearly enough of what they need to be to even attempt to heal any of the wounds. A large brown eye stares up at you, watching your every movement. You bite back the vomit that claws its way up, moving to observe him a bit more.

“What are you doing? Who are you?”

The voice behind you causes you to jump, whipping around and coming face to face with a taller man. His blonde hair is dishevled, matching the beard that obviously hasn’t been taken care of in a while. You dont blame him, not with everything thats clearly gone on. Besides personal grooming, he looks strangely normal, perhaps a bit underweight but again, you cannot blame him. His blue eyes pierce into you as if observing your very soul. Instinctively, you are scared of the imposing figure - you have no knowledge of what happened on this ship, for all you know hes the reason for the mutilated body lying in the bed behind you. The axe he carries certainly doesn’t help.

“Oh-. Pony Express wants to issue their sincerest apologies about not tending to your rescue sooner as per policy all company ships are only checked into if their cargo hasn’t been marked as delivered within a week of the expected date.” You stumble over your words, running your fingers over the outline of the holstered gun at your hip, the only thing flowing from your mouth being the recited Pony Express line. The last one you’d ever have to use with the new automation.

He steps forward, backing you into the wall just beside the bed. Though, within a moment he simply sighs and begins to pace, running his hand through that messy blonde hair of his. Its almost as if the idea of rescue is troubling to him, you are used to crewmembers almost hugging you in joy, although, this is the worst a ship has looked and you can naturally assume that it has been floating here for a long time. He murmurs to himself, under his breath he speaks information that you are not privvy to. Your eyes flutter back to whoever lies in that bed, voice wavering as you speak up once more.

“Is that the Captain of this ship?”

“What? No. That- I mean, he’s the co-piolt.”

His words are laced with malice, you can hear the anger in his tone that he even has to speak about the man wrapped in those bandages, helpless and doomed. Your eyebrows furrow, turning back to look at him with an accusatory glance. How can this man speak with such a tone about someone so broken? It isn’t fair to the co-pilot nor is it fair to you. You can only imagine how the rest of the crew is fairing, dead, probably.

“Don’t look at me like that. I didn’t- hes not- look. You don’t understand what happened.”

“No, but I’d like to. In fact, I need to for my report, we can start with where the rest of your crew is. I was given a basic overview of the staff assigned to this vessel and if that is the co-pilot then that leaves the Captian, the nurse, the repairman, and the intern. Which one are you?”

“The Captain.”

“Well, a fine job you did, then. Where are the others?”

A sigh falls from his lips, strands of hair pulled out far too easily. Part of you wants to comfort him, to tell him that this was surely and accident and not his fault; but he is the captain and he cannot be afforded such luxuries. Still, his blue eyes turn from steely to soft and pathetic in an instant, as if a switch had been flipped in his brain, and with a gesture to follow him he begins to walk out of the medical bay. Everything in you screams that this is a trap, that he is leading you to your own demise and he will take your ship and leave you with the pile of corpses that make up the other crew members. Leave you with the husk of a human being that lies on the cot.

But you take the chance anyways, hand still resting on your gun as you follow him into the darkness of the deck below. Foam lines the walls, a measure to protect the ship and as a result the occupants inside,

#unfinished #abandoned fics ):#mouthwashing #captain curly mouthwashing #curly mouthwashing #captain curly #daisuke mouthwashing #daisuke mw #daisuke #mouthwashing fanfiction #fanfictions #I love that captain can you tell?

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