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tojisun · 1 month

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“ghost,” price’s voice rumbles in his ear, the faint static almost breaking through his focus. there’s a familiar cadence in his captain’s voice, one that drags against simon’s body in miasmic waves—it is, after all, nothing short of a warning. still, none of it matters, and simon continues to march on.

“the mission–”

“stopped being my priority,” simon replies, cutting him off.

there was nothing but a crackle. a quiet whirring. then, “you know this is not what they would want.”

he grunts. “good thing they’re not here then.”

simon slinks into the shadows, ducking underneath the balcony, his eyes frantic as he scans the parameters. it’s safe. quiet. too quiet, in fact.

“location?”

“south of the chapel,” gaz replies with no hesitation. simon hums to himself—price must’ve shifted his directives too, then.

“roger.”

he moves, his boots crunching against the gravel and filling up the dead passage way with just enough noise. there’s still a whole lot of suspicious inactivity, one that makes the hairs on the back of his neck rise up, but he doesn’t get to dwell on the thought anymore. not when a loud bang rips through the silence.

his breath stutters, mind racing—that sound came from the shed.

his legs tense, muscles rippling.

“shots fired!” he reports before he leaps, devouring the vast space between himself and the sounds of scuffling. prayers form on the tip of his tongue, racing down his throat like scalding water.

he’s not even a religious man, but dear gods–

simon passes around the chapel, eyes cataloguing the lit rooms inside what he was told to be a desolate building, before tearing through the wooded shed. he knows he should’ve searched the area for any threat, should’ve probably waited for backup, but simon’s been running on overdrive, his emotions piling. spilling.

he tears the door open, guns poised for easy aim. only–

simon’s body buckles, throat constricting with the words he wishes he can say. but there is nothing else to be said. nothing but thank you’s.

because there, standing in the middle of the chaos, bloody and wounded and banged up to hell, is you. you weren’t even taken for that long but look how much they did to you. they hurt you.

your feet are soaked with blood, your boots and socks having been stripped off of you as though a part of their attempts at making you incapable of leaving. your face is swollen. marked up. cuts trace from the angle of your jaw to the side of your temple, leaving blood to trickle down to your neck, staining your tee. the gash doesn’t look deep, but maybe that’s all the blood covering the actual extents.

simon forces himself to breathe. to stay still.

(everyone has their own triggers, that’s what they were first told when laswell brought you to them.

“remember theirs and be careful,” she said before a pleased smile tugged at her lips. “mommy’s bringing home a new littermate. aren’t you all glad?”

the meeting ended there, just as johnny opened his mouth to complain. price passed around your file and simon memorized every line that night—your tell, your preferred gun, your morning beat.

somehow, he thinks that maybe that night was when his devotion to you started.)

simon watches—he’s always been watching you since the day that you arrived—as you compose yourself. the m9 is still gripped so tightly in your trembling fist, the metal quietly creaking at the pressure. it fills up the space in tandem with your ragged breaths, and he knows you’re still there, trapped in the depths of your mind.

alone. angry. scared.

“status?” price asks.

simon licks his lips. “unstable.”

he hears the faint crackle of johnny cursing from the other end of the line, and simon gets him. he really does. but he thinks they also just don’t understand.

you’re here. alone. alive.

your spiral is just proof of that. proof that even in your loneliness, amidst the pain, you clawed your way to survival.

simon hopes you two were back home—the barracks have been home for years now—so he can reward you. sweetly. fully. you deserve all that and more. deserve to be devoted on. to be adored. to be revered.

you were always beautiful, of course, but there is something sacred in seeing you like this: bloodied, angered, victorious.

he prays that your wounds will turn to scars, if only to give him a map of where to press his kisses from now on.

“ghost?” you finally mutter, and it tears simon from his thoughts. your voice is a weak rasp, like you’ve been parched for eons, and despite that, it spills the tension from simon’s body, his muscles loosening up at finally seeing you return to the topside.

he wants to say your name. he wants to sound it out—aren’t names made to be chanted like prayers, anyway?—but he reels himself in and mutters your callsign instead. the name tumbles from his mouth with the desperation and the worry smothered under the guise of grace.

your lips twitch up in an attempt at a smile. they don’t really get to make it much because of the gash running down the corner of your mouth. still, it makes simon stumble over his feet until he is rushing past corpses and sliding into your space.

“can i–”

he doesn’t even get to finish asking before you’re falling into his arms, tucking in your bruised face carefully on the crook of his neck. he takes your bulk in his embrace, folding you to himself, before he rests his chin on the top of your head.

you fist at his vest, your other hand still tight on the m9, and simon can’t really blame you. even he still feels exposed to any danger from in and out of this shed even when you’ve taken out all of the enemies. so he holds you close and holds you tight, knowing every second is sacred.

he breathes you in, taking in the scent of the leather, gun powder, and iron. it all feels familiar to him; it all smells like you.

simon nuzzles the smooth part of his mask over your temple. then, “let’s go home?”

you shift until you’re peering up at him, and simon takes this as the chance to catalogue the extent of your wounds. his lips purse at finally seeing the gash; you would probably need stitches.

“okay,” you finally reply. your eyes wrinkle as you attempt to smile. “thanks for comin’ back f’r me.”

“always,” simon murmurs, feeling choked up as his exhaustion finally catches up on him. “y’know that, right?”

you hum, nodding, and that was that.

#simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley #cod x reader #cw guns #cw violence #suns #sooooo idk where this came from or why i even wrote it but ALAS

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icarusignite · 15 days

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the ships have come to carry you home (Kim Hongjoong)

Pairing: Captain Hongjoong x Runaway Princess Reader Summary: Desperate to escape a horrifying marriage to the man who murdered your family and stole your father's crown, you escape your opulent life, only to realize that your longing for freedom has landed you in the clutches of ruthless pirates who are willing to trade your life for one of their own. Determined to prove your worth, you must persuade the enigmatic captain that you are indeed worth keeping after all.

Word Count: 5.7k

Genre/warnings: Hurt/comfort, angst to fluff, captain is kind of a jerk in the beginning

PIRATE! ATEEZ MASTERLIST

The damp, dark underbelly of the ship seemed to swallow you whole as you pressed yourself into the corner, drawing your knees up to your chest in a desperate attempt to make yourself as inconspicuous as possible. Above you, the reverberating boom of an explosion echoed through the wooden planks, sending shivers down your spine.

Your heart pounded in your chest like a war drum as you prayed fervently that whoever was raiding the ship above had no interest in you, that they would simply pass by without a second glance. But fate seemed determined to thwart your hopes as heavy footsteps clambered down the rickety wooden steps, each one resonating ominously in the darkness.

You squeezed your eyes shut, willing yourself to disappear into the shadows as the sound drew nearer. When the figure finally emerged into the dim light, you felt your stomach lurch in dread. He was a muscular man with sharp eyes that seemed to pierce through the darkness, searching every nook and cranny for any sign of life.

"Found her, Captain!" the man called out to someone above deck and your blood ran cold.

Panic surged through your veins, but you remained frozen in place, hoping against hope that somehow, by some miracle, you might escape notice.

But the man's sharp gaze landed on you immediately, you knew your hopes were in vain. He approached with purposeful strides, his every movement calculated and precise. When he reached your hiding spot, he crouched down beside you, his expression almost apologetic.

"Come on, then,” he said, his voice surprisingly gentle despite the urgency in his tone. "There’s no use hiding. You'll only make things harder for yourself."

You shook your head frantically, your breath coming in shallow gasps. You knew you had to fight, to resist with every ounce of strength you possessed, so when the man reached out to grab your shoulder, you recoiled instinctively, fear overwhelming your senses.

He sighed heavily, a sound laden with weariness and regret. "I'm sorry, truly I am," he murmured, his voice barely audible above the din of the ship. "But orders are orders.”

With that, he seized your arms firmly, his grip still gentle despite the urgency of his actions. You struggled against him, your muscles tensing with the effort, but it was futile. The man's strength far surpassed your own, and with a determined grunt, he began to drag you towards the stairs leading back up to the surface. You kicked and screamed with all your might, and in a desperate attempt to break free, you lashed out, your elbow connecting with the man's nose with a sickening crunch.

A string of curses erupted from his lips as he stumbled back, clutching his bleeding nose. "Careful, Captain," he growled, glaring at you with annoyance. "She's a feisty one."

“Thank you, San,” the captain presumably, responded with a sigh as you were unceremoniously dumped at his feet.

He stood before you, a tired expression etched features, shadows lurking beneath his weary eyes. He ran a hand through his dishevelled hair, muttering something under his breath as he regarded you with a mixture of exasperation and resignation.

"You're more trouble than you're worth.”

“That’s right,” you nodded frantically. “I’m nobody. I’m irrelevant, and of no use to you, so please…please let me go.”

The captain scoffed, a bitter laugh escaping his lips. "You? Unimportant?" he retorted, shaking his head in disbelief. "Sorry, Princess, but I find that hard to believe. You are our most important cargo, and we've been tasked with returning you home."

Home.

That wasn’t even the word you’d call it anymore. Bile rose in your throat once again. You couldn’t return, especially not after what had happened to your family. Not after what they would do to you.

You had hoped against hope that you could somehow escape that nightmare, that you could slip through the cracks unnoticed and reclaim your freedom, but now, faced with the harsh reality of your situation, you wondered if your fate was sealed.

"Please don't make me go back,” you tried again. “I was going to leave. I promise I'd be no trouble at all. I was going to go away and never come back."

The captain's expression hardened at your words, his frustration evident in the furrow of his brow. He knelt before you, his grip firm as he grasped your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze. His eyes bore into yours with an intensity that sent a shiver down your spine.

"Are you really that hopelessly naive to think that these people would have simply dropped you off at the next harbour?" he spat, his voice laced with bitterness.

Your heart sank as you glanced around at the crew of the ship, your stomach churning with dread. They had been subdued and tied up by this new captain’s crew, their faces grim and resigned to their fate.

"No, they were going to sell you out just the same," the captain continued, his voice low and menacing. "At least this way, you’ll be helping to save someone’s life.”

He seemed to seethe with anger, his fist clenched at his side as he struggled to contain his emotions. But then, a hand rested gently on his shoulder, and he glanced up to see another man standing beside him, his expression calm and reassuring.

"Ease up, Hongjoong," the man said softly, “you’re scaring her.”

“I don’t care, Seonghwa. Can you imagine how Jongho must be feeling right now? And to think we’ve sailed halfway across the continent for this pathetic creature, in exchange for his life. It’s ridiculous!”

“I know you’re worried about him…we all are, but this is no way to act.”

Hongjoong sighed, his bruising grip on your jaw easing before letting go completely as if deciding that you simply weren’t worth his energy. He felt the smallest stab of guilt at his behaviour, particularly when he caught the flash of hurt that crossed your wide eyes. It wasn’t your fault that the new king had decided to capture their youngest crew member, holding him ransom until you were returned to your kingdom. By the looks of it, you didn’t seem too fond of the new sovereign either, but he did wonder what it was that you were so desperate to escape from back home.

He jerked his head to the rest of his crew, “Take what you can of value, and prepare to return to our ship.”

Back on the captain's ship, the crew was abuzz with activity as they prepared to set sail. Your captor, San, seemed distracted as well, and you took this moment of distraction to break free from his hold again and do the only thing you can think of, throwing yourself overboard.

Just as you can though, strong arms wrap around your waist, pulling you back with a force that knocks the breath from your lungs. You gasp in shock, the world spinning around you as you find yourself ensnared in another's grasp.

"By God, are you insane?" a voice exclaims, the words ringing in your ears. "Are you trying to get yourself killed?"

It's Hongjoong, his voice filled with disbelief and concern. You thrash against him, your body writhing with the desperate need to break free, but he holds you tight against him, his arms like steel bands around your trembling form. Upon further struggle, he bends to place his arms beneath your knees and sweeps you clean off your feet, and despite your protests, he carries you effortlessly, his stride purposeful and determined.

If you weren’t quite so hysterical, you might have been comforted by the warmth of his frame against your frigid one, but there is no comfort to be found. When he finally places you on your feet again, you are in what you assume to be his personal quarters.

“Do not even think of doing what you just did again!” he snarls. “You are of no worth if you’re dead.”

“I shall do just as I please,” you return with just as heatedly.

“If you’re going to cause trouble, I’ll put you in the brig. See how long your act lasts in the company of the rats.”

With that, he stormed out, slamming the door to his chambers behind him, and even as you rushed toward it, you heard the resounding click of a lock being turned, effectively making you his prisoner.

You spent the next few hours pacing the room, rummaging through his belongings in an attempt to find something, anything, that might aid in your escape. There was a large table strewn about with maps, and he owned an absurd amount of books, which was a little surprising as you didn't think pirates read. Still, when you realized your search was futile, you slumped to the floor in the corner, picking up one of the books to thumb through.

Eventually, a soft knock on the door came, followed by a familiar click as it opened slowly with a creak. It was San, his frame filling the doorway for a few moments as he hesitated at the threshold. He held a tray of food in his hands, and behind him, darkness swallowed the rest of the ship, by which you assumed night had fallen.

“Captain says you have to eat,” San mutters, setting the tray down in front of you, but you turn up your head.

Almost as if he was inside your head, Hongjoong’s voice echoed from outside.

“Tell the snobbish princess that if she doesn’t fancy starving, she had better eat what she’s given.”

Your lip curled in disgust, and you turned away from the tray with an even more aggressive shake of your head. San sighed softly, before settling himself on the captain’s bed to simply watch you. You noticed that he had cleaned up his nose and you felt a stab of guilt. After all, he was simply following orders too, and you had decided that if anyone was to be the target of all your ire and hatred, it would be Hongjoong.

“I…” you began hesitantly. “I’m sorry about your nose. I didn’t mean to…”

San chuckled, “Yes you did.”

“I…I mean I did but I didn’t—”

“It’s okay,” he shrugged. “Hazards of the job, I suppose.”

“Still. I am sorry.”

When Hongjoong finally returned to his chambers, his weariness was palpable, etched into the lines of his face and the slump of his shoulders. But as his eyes fell upon you, curled up in the corner of his room, a pang of guilt tugged at his heart. You were a sorry sight, alone and vulnerable in the darkness, and he knew he could not put you in the brig. A person of your station must have always enjoyed the finest things in life, so being here must be quite an adjustment, and despite his earlier animosity, he did not wish to cause you greater discomfort.

He approached you slowly, his footsteps echoing softly against the wooden floorboards. The sight of the untouched food on the table made him sigh in resignation. With a weary yawn, he ran a hand through his tousled hair, his exhaustion evident in every movement.

"Hey," he said gently. "You can take the bed. I'll sleep on the floor or something."

You shook your head stubbornly, your lips pressed into a thin line of defiance, but Hongjoong could see your weariness and it mirrored his own. He sighed, realizing that arguing with you would be futile.

"It'll be uncomfortable for you on the floor," he tried again.

Still, you remained silent, your gaze fixed on some distant point in the darkness. Hongjoong rolled his eyes in exasperation.

"Suit yourself.”

As he began to undress and prepare for bed, peeling off his shirt with practiced ease, you couldn't help but let out a squeak of surprise, your cheeks flushing with embarrassment. You turned your head away so fast it was almost comical, your heart racing in your chest.

Hongjoong chuckled at your reaction. "Relax," he said with a teasing grin. "It's not like you haven't seen a shirtless man before."

You hadn’t, and it made your face redden even more. You huffed indignantly, refusing to meet his gaze. When he realized, he cleared his throat awkwardly, hurrying to put on something, internally berating himself for such a comment. You were a princess, brought up in refinery, so he should refrain from making such crass comments around you.

When he settled down for the night, you remained in your place on the floor, eyes wide open in an attempt to evade sleep. However, unfortunately for you, it proved a fruitless endeavour, and eventually, the subtle shifting of the ship on the calm ocean waves lulled you into a restless slumber.

You dreamt of fire and bloodshed, and the violence that seemed to haunt your every waking moment, following you even to the realm of Morpheus. You had to watch your family be slaughtered in front of you all over again, their blood seeping into the cracks of the pristine marble of your castle’s floors. The new self-proclaimed king, the usurper, grinned manically while the gore dried in the creases of his palms, his sword held aloft as he prepared to deal the final blow. You wished he would kill you, end your suffering once and for all and send you to be with the rest of your family, but he had much crueller plans for you.

Hongjoong’s sleep was just as fitful as yours as he tossed and turned, and it was only made worse when he heard the quiet sounds of your sniffles. It made him bolt upright, gaze falling to your frame, curled up in a fetal position in the dark. Cautiously he approached you, only to see that your eyes were still screwed shut tightly, but a steady stream of tears flowed from behind your eyelids, and a pained whimper escaped your lips every now and then.

The captain shook your shoulder gently in an attempt to wake you, but whatever dream you found yourself trapped in seemed to have its claws embedded too deeply and you only flinched at his touch. He sighed, mumbling a brief apology before lifting you from the floor.

Almost instinctively, you curled into him, tucking your face into his chest, still in the throes of sleep, and Hongjoong froze. With a great sigh, he placed you on his bed, smoothing back the matted tangles of your hair away from your face. Your features were troubled, and he pressed his index finger against the wrinkle between your brows, easing your frown a little. It seemed to help a little, at least to the extent of halting your tears, but your face retained its characteristic pinched expression.

Hongjoong watched you with fascination. He would not be cruel, he reminded himself. He would be kind to you and hope that wherever Jongho was, he was being treated with kindness in return. He doubted the new king’s ability to be kind, but there was little else he could do besides hope for the best. He was no stranger to the new king’s capability for cruelty, so it made him wonder just what had driven you from home, so desperate not to return.

The next morning, you woke up with damp cheeks, and a throbbing headache, but much to your surprise, you had been covered by a threadbare blanket, and you were no longer on the cold, damp wooden floorboards. A tray of breakfast had been left out for you, but despite your rumbling stomach, you pointedly ignored it.

That is how you spent the next few days. Hongjoong no longer returned at night, leaving you the sole occupant of his room, and when eventually your curiosity got the better of you, you decided to settle down with some of his books, biding your time.

The opportunity presented itself one night when San arrived to bring you your evening meal, and when he left, you noticed that there was no telltale sound of the lock clicking. You crept up to the door and it swung open without much protest.

The ship was bathed in darkness, and you could hear the distant sounds of the crew members, but they were muffled. Slowly you inched up the steps to the main deck, arms outstretched as you felt your way, holding your breath in anticipation. You hoped that everyone would be too busy with their own endeavours to pay you any mind.

The surface was bathed in silver moonlight and it was almost ethereal, the way it reflected off the softly lapping waves. The sea was calm, but as you made your way to the edge, you were almost taken aback by its vastness. The murky depths stretched out as far as the eye could see, almost too infinite to fathom, and with a grim sort of resignation you realized that there was nowhere for you to go. No escaping your fate.

You slumped against the wooden railing, almost listless, as you turned your attention to the stars above, charting the constellations that you could make out in the clear night sky as your father had taught you. You missed him terribly, and the prospect of having to marry the man who killed him made you want to pitch yourself overboard.

Still, you had some sense of self-preservation because you remained with your feet firmly planted on the wooden deck. There were other ways, perhaps, for you to prove that you were worth more, that you could be of use to these pirates who were determined to return you to a monster.

“Good to see you aren’t as determined to escape us,” came a voice, startling you.

You felt a frown pull at your lips when you saw Captain Hongjoong standing right behind you, arms crossed over his chest, a satisfied smirk on his face.

“What do you want?” you muttered sullenly.

“Just testing out a theory.”

“I’m not your guinea pig!”

“No, you’re not, but you’re also not as determined to die as I had previously thought.”

“No one really wants to die,” you pointed out somberly. “It is our circumstances that drive the urge.”

Hongjoong hummed thoughtfully, coming over to lean against the railing beside you, and that is how you remained for several long moments, each one of you lost in thought. It was a comfortable sort of silence, one you didn't think was possible between the two of you, but you supposed he wasn’t entirely unpleasant to be around, provided he kept his mouth shut.

“I am sorry, you know,” he spoke first. “I may have been…”

“I believe asshole is the word you’re looking for?”

“...excessively harsh,” Hongjoong finished sheepishly, still staring straight ahead. “Nonetheless, I apologize. I should have minded my manners, and that was no way to treat a princess.”

“That was no way to treat a person,” you corrected immediately.

“Yes, you’re right. I was terrible. I’m truly sorry.”

You watched him from the corner of your eye, not missing the way the moonlight highlighted his sharp profile. You found it difficult to resist his apology, particularly due to the sincerity that was so evident in his tone, but you didn’t say anything in return. Perhaps, you’d let him ramble on, giving you the opportunity to figure him out, and see if there was any way to convince him not to take you back.

“It’s not about the money, you know,” the captain continued, running a hand through his hair, dishevelling it even further, and you resisted the urge to brush a wayward lock away from his face. “It’s been a terribly worrisome few weeks…and it’s all my fault. I should have been more cautious, less naive. Jongho was taken because of me. He’s imprisoned, out there all alone because of me. Who knows what they’re doing to him, and there is nothing at all that I can do.”

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, although you didn’t know what you were apologizing for. Somehow it felt like it was your fault.

“It’s not your fault,” Hongjoong suddenly turned to you, his eyes heartbreakingly earnest, and you swore you could see the glint of tears in the moonlight before he blinked them away. “But, you understand why we have to take you back now, don’t you?”

You were taken aback by the intensity of his words, the desperation of a madman almost.

“I’m not sure I—”

“The king…he said he’d return Jongho to us, if we found you and returned you to your kingdom. It’s the only way we’ll get him back.

“The new king is a cruel man,” you spat bitterly. “There is no telling he’ll keep his word.”

“But I have to try,” Hongjoong continued desperately. “I owe it to Jongho to try. His life is worth at least that much.”

And what of my life? What is my life worth?

You closed your eyes, trying to block out his words, guilt and bitterness warring inside of you. It wasn’t fair. None of this was fair. You didn’t ask to be a pawn in this terrible game of chess. You didn’t ask to be born into such a family. You just wanted to be happy, to be free. Were your dreams worth so little, were you that insignificant to the fates?

Hongjoong pulled away, composing himself and clearing his throat, “It seems I have upset you again. I am sorry.”

“Another apology?” you scoffed.

“It seems I have many things to apologize for,” he laughed self-depreciatingly. “I am a man of many flaws, and these days there is little I can do right.”

“It wasn’t your fault either,” you blurted, feeling the sudden urge to comfort him. It was strange, you should have despised him, but you felt that you understood him in some way. And besides, it had always been in your nature to be the peacemaker, to always out the feelings of others before your own.

“Of course it was. I was there. I watched them take him away and could do nothing about it.”

“The…your crew member’s captor. He is a cruel man. I am certain there was nothing you could have done to save him.”

It was Hongjoong who watched you carefully now, “Is that why you do not wish to return?”

You found yourself unable to answer him. There were no words to describe it. No way to speak the terrible things you had witnessed out loud, and if you did, you would only cause the captain further worry, as his crew member was still in the king’s possession.

“You do not have to tell me, of course,” he amended quickly, finally stepping back to take his leave. “I shall let you get your rest, princess. I do hope you’re finding my bed to be far more comfortable than the floor.”

And then with a polite bow that seemed much too formal on one such as him, he was gone, leaving you to contemplate your pitiful existence. Unbeknownst to you, Hongjoong felt your burdens deeply as well. His brief conversation with you made him feel even more guilty, but there was nothing to be done. He had a duty to his crew, to protect them and do whatever it took to ensure their life and safety. His crew had to come before some foreign princess. Jongho had to come before you. There was nothing else to do about it.

The next morning you were pleasantly surprised to see that the door to Hongjoong’s chambers had been left unlocked again, and when you made your way to the deck early in the morning, no one stopped you. A few of the crew members nodded politely at you as you wandered the ship, and San even granted you a smile. Hongjoong, as usual, was nowhere to be seen, and briefly, you did wonder where he had managed to hole up when you had taken over his quarters.

Over the next few days, you put your only plan into motion. You learned the names of every member of the crew, attentive in your endeavours. After your conversation with the captain, you realized that he wasn’t entirely cruel and that perhaps there was still hope. If you proved yourself to be a useful enough member of the crew, perhaps he’d let you stay. They were pirates after all, and surely, if they liked you enough, they’d manage to come up with a way to keep you as well as rescue their youngest crew member from the cruel king’s clutches.

You helped Wooyoung in the galley, and Mingi with polishing the canons. You even offered to mop the decks; anything at all to remain useful. You had been schooled in the arts of diplomacy as a princess, but you found that you did not have to make a great effort to pretend to be interested in their tasks. You genuinely enjoyed hearing their stories as they amicably conversed, and watching them during the night, when despite the subdued air about them due to their missing member, there was a sense of camaraderie to them that you desperately yearned for. The way each of them cared and valued one another was truly astonishing, particularly to someone like you who had never before seen such friendships.

Hongjoong’s relationship with them in particular awed you. You imagined a captain to be harsh and commanding with his crew, but Hongjoong was anything but. They obeyed him because they genuinely respected him, and valued what he had to say, and in return, he treated every single member aboard the ship with that same courtesy, everyone including you. Sometimes he’d flash you one of his charming smiles, as he’d go about his day, and you found yourself wishing to stay even more desperately. It felt almost pathetic, caring this much about a group of people who surely did not care for you.

However, what you didn’t realize is that your desperate efforts had indeed endeared you to the crew, the captain most of all, and when the day arrived for the ship to dock at the harbour, the sky seemed overcast in shadow.

It could be put off no longer. You had to be returned, and they would be reunited with their brother. You supposed you could beg, plead for them to let you stay, but if you were to bear what was to come, and their inevitable denial, you needed to hold on to whatever shred of dignity you had remaining. You would not cry, you would not say a word. With grace, you bid your goodbyes and hoped that you weren’t imagining it when the crew seemed almost sad to let you go.

Perhaps they might remember you as they set sail on their next adventure. Perhaps your memory would receive the freedom your physical form could not.

It was Hongjoong who led you to your castle, its towering spires no longer comforting. You held your head high, as the guards led you to the throne room where the usurper sat upon your father’s throne, wearing your father’s crown. To the side stood another three guards who held down a chained young man between them, beaten and bruised. Hongjoong’s fists clenched at the sight of him, so you imagined that this must be the infamous Jongho.

“You have returned,” the king drawled, slowly descending the dais. “I did not think a pirate capable of it.”

“I am a man of my word,” Hongjoong stated through gritted teeth.

“As am I,” the king gestured toward his guards who promptly let go of Jongho’s chains. “You may take your scoundrel and be gone.”

Before the king could reach you, and before Hongjoong could move toward Jongho, your hand shot out to grab his wrist. It was an unconscious movement, your body moving against your will. You had promised yourself to show dignity, you had promised that you would not beg, but you could not deny yourself this small act at least.

Hongjoong looked at you in surprise, his heart hiccupping in his chest when he saw the tears pooling in your eyes.

“Please,” you mumbled, fingers squeezing around his. “Please, don’t leave me.”

“I’m sorry.”

With great difficulty, he wrenched your hand away from his, lowering his gaze so that he did not have to watch as your expression plummeted at the act. He took measured steps toward Jongho, kneeling to help his crewmate stand, providing much-needed support to the injured man.

You, on the other hand, swallowed bile as the king approached you slowly. When he was before you, he trailed a single finger down your cheek and you flinched, feeling sick.

“I did miss you, you know,” he lamented. “You had to know, I’d do anything to have you back.”

Then he struck you.

The blow was sharp, sending you sprawling to the floor with the force of it, but you pressed your lips together defiantly. You would not cry out. He would not get the satisfaction of watching you come undone.

“Did you really think you could run away?” he snarled, grabbing you by the shoulder to haul you up. “There is nowhere that you could go to escape me. I would drag you back from the underworld if I had to, and if you are to meet death, it would only be by my hand.”

“You cannot command death,” you spat, despite the blood dripping from your lip. “Not even you are that powerful.”

“I commanded it just fine when I ended your family, and I can do the same to you if you do not silence yourself. We are to be married tomorrow, so I suggest you make your peace with it. There is nowhere to run anymore.”

Before you closed your eyes, your melancholy eyes met Hongjoong’s one last time as he strode out of the throne room, Jongho in tow. Despite everything, you could not bring yourself to hate him, and you hoped that perhaps he did not despise you that much after all.

It was well past midnight when you heard the knock on your door. You had been moved to one of the towers, a prisoner within the stone walls until your impending nuptials, so you most certainly were not expecting visitors. It could only be one person and your blood ran cold. Having to marry him tomorrow was one thing, but if you had to see him tonight, you would fling yourself out of the balcony that very instant.

The knock came again, urgent and sharp.

“Go away,” you whispered. “Please, please, please, go away. I’ll marry you, so please, just go away.”

Another knock and rage bubbled in your chest. How dare he impose himself on you like this. How dare he take and take from you until you had nothing more left to give. No, you would not stand for it, but before you could make a move, the door wrenched open and there stood the last person you expected to see again.

“Hongjoong?”

The captain was out of breath, and there was a nasty cut on his forehead that bled into his eyes, but he seemed otherwise unharmed. He did not let you utter a word before grabbing your wrist and dragging you down the isolated hallway. A quick glance backward revealed the incapacitated guards that lay slumped at the threshold of your door and your brow furrowed in confusion.

“Hongjoong, what are you—”

“I couldn’t leave you!” he blurted, still dragging you along, pausing every now and then to duck into a different alcove, or through some hidden passageway. “I couldn't bear to leave you behind.”

And it was true. The sight of you, teary eyes pleading with him as he walked away was the final straw. He would not have been able to live with himself if he had left you to the vile creature you were to marry, especially after seeing how he treated you.

The two of you emerged into the dark night panting, the cool air soothing against the sting of tears in your eyes.

“You came back for me?” you could hardly speak the words, lest they turned out not to be true.

“Of course, I came back for you. I had to!”

“But—”

“We still have to hurry. They might not have noticed you are missing just yet, but they soon will, and when they do, we need to have set sail far away from here.”

Only when you had reached the docks did he let you pause, ducking into an abandoned alleyway to catch your breath.

“But, the others…”

Hongjoong laughed, “In case you hadn’t noticed, they adore you. They may even like you more than me if I’m being entirely honest. No doubt, they’d have threatened mutiny if I did not bring you back.”

Your shoulders slumped, “So…you came back because of them?”

It was pathetic. You should have been grateful regardless, but you couldn’t help the stab of disappointment you felt.

“No!” the captain frantically shook his head, taking your face in his hands ever so gently. “I came back because of you…because of me…because I could not bear not having you around. I came back because I had to.”

“Oh.”

“And I am sorry I have been such a fool. I should have done something different, planned it so that you did not have to spend even a moment with that wretch of a man who does not deserve one such as you.”

He brushed away your tears, his thumb pausing at your split lip.

“I’m alright,” you tried to put on a brave smile, but it came out more of a grimace, and he chuckled.

“No, you are not. And you do not have to pretend to be. Not here, not with me, not ever again.”

And then he was kissing you. It was just a mere brush of his lips against yours as if he was afraid of hurting you further, but he tasted of freedom and possibility and something so distinctly right with the world, that it stole the very breath from your lungs.

It was over all too soon, and then he was pulling you forward again, eager to return to his crew and to the net adventure that now awaited the both of you.

A/N: Hope you enjoyed this one. Comment to be added to the taglist. Comments/reblogs are highly appreciated, as I'd love to hear what yall think <3

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sailor-aviator · 3 months

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Fool's Fare: Chapter Seven

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Reader

Summary: Captain Jake "Hangman" Seresin had come close to swinging from the gallows more times than he would care to admit. He's stolen, cheated, even killed. The worst thing he's ever done? Broken the heart of a woman. Having broken the heart of the woman whom Davy Jones himself had fallen for six years ago, Jake is now cursed to live as something not dead, but not alive. He's doomed to live a half-life for the rest of his existence unless he manages to obtain the treasure Davy Jones deems most valuable. The problem? He has no idea what it is, and he only had seven years to obtain it.

Trigger Warning: Post-sex cuddling, Drunkard, Moves made on Reader, Myths/Legends, Flirting, Angry Jake, Arguing, Storm, Some Roughness against Reader, More revelations, Reader feeling used for a brief second.

Word Count: 4.1k

Series Masterlist || Moodboards || Playlist || Jake "Hangman" Seresin Tag List

You suppose you should have felt exposed, pressed against a random building with your shirt torn to pieces.

You didn’t though.

Surprisingly, you felt warm as you settled into the embrace of the man pressed against you, his breaths syncing with every one that you took. The distant sound of general revelry and drinking only helped to soothe you even more, causing you to let out a contented hum as you continued to card your fingers through blond hair gently.

The two of you stayed intertwined for what felt like ages, but was probably just a few minutes. Your overheated skin gave rise to goosebumps as the cool, night air brushed against it in a gentle breeze, a shiver running through you. Jake stirred against you, your reaction to the cold seeming to pull him back from whatever world he had allowed himself to drift into for a moment. He peeked up at you, green eyes studying your face as the two of you stared at one another. His thumbs stroked your hips gently, his head ducking down to place a gentle kiss to the skin between your breasts, and you felt your cheeks heat up at the gesture. He pulled away to shrug off his coat, sliding it around your shoulders as he pulled it securely around your half naked form.

“We should get back,” he sighed, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face and tucking it behind your ear. His fingers lingered for a moment, eyes searching you for something, but what you didn’t know.

He untangled himself from you completely, pulling the coat around you tighter and fastening it. He gave you one last once over before deciding that you were decent enough to start moving.

The dirt and rocks beneath your feet crunched as the two of you made your way down the deserted streets, the odd figure stumbling in and out of buildings as it became late enough for tavern patrons to crawl their way home after a night of drinking and merriment. Jake kept an arm wrapped around you, hugging you into his side protectively as he eyed every figure that came into sight.

His grip on your waist tightened as a man stumbled into the low lamplight, hand bracing himself against a wooden beam as the contents of his stomach emptied into the dirt at his feet. Jake pushed you behind him as the man looked up at the two of you with hazy eyes, a gaped smile crawling onto his face as he registered your wide-eyed form.

“Wha’s a pretty thing like you doin’ round these parts?” He slurred, trying and failing to straighten up. His gaze left a prickling sensation on your skin, and you subconsciously pressed yourself closer to the captain.

“Don’ be shy, love,” the man continued, lips pulled back in a sneer. “I can show you a good time, ya know. Or at leas’ make it worth your while.”

“You’ll bite that tongue of yours if you know what’s good for you,” Jake snapped, eyes cold as he stared down at the portly man. The man looked up at him, as if just noticing he stood there. One look at the fierce, stone-cold glare that Jake had fixed on his handsome features had the man averting his gaze, stumbling off into the darkness.

Jake let out a sigh as he watched the man disappear into the inky shadows of the slums, the tension in his shoulders only easing a fraction.

“How do you do that?” You asked him. He looked down at you, brow furrowed in confusion as he pressed his lips together.

“What?”

“How do you get people to listen to you?” You studied his face as you continued. “He doesn’t even know who you are, and he still listened.”

“People will do all types of things you tell them to when they’re drunk,” he muttered, pressing on your lower back to usher you along.

“I’m well aware of that fact,” you huffed, rolling your eyes, “but that’s not what that was. How do you get people to listen to you?”

He stopped in his tracks, turning to face you as you stopped next to him. He looked at you for a long, hard minute, emotions indiscernible as he watched you. His hand came up to cup your cheek, his face dropping down to hover just in front of yours, and your eyelids fluttered at the proximity.

“They listen to me,” he murmured, breath sweeping over you in a chuckle as you involuntarily leaned forward, “because they’re afraid of me.”

He lingered for a moment, allowing his words to soak into the charged air between you two before pulling away. The air around you felt cold as he took a few steps forward, stopping once more, looking over his shoulder at you with an arched brow.

“Are you coming?” He asked, the faint hint of a smile tugging on the corner of his lips. You took him in in that moment, golden skin illuminated by the dim lamplight in the faintest traces of a silhouette. Your heart swelled at the sight of him, questioning how any man could look so beautiful in such a squalid setting.

Jake chuckled at your daze, causing you to blink and snap out of the silent reverie you had found yourself in. You took the few paces to stand next to him, the two of you falling into another quiet stroll as the docks came into sight. The sound of the waves crashing against the hull of the ship sent an immediate sense of calm through you, and you let out a sigh as the two of you set foot onto the deck. Jake veered towards the door leading to the cabins, opening the door and gesturing for you to step through. You brushed past him, ignoring the shiver that ran up your spine at being so close to him once more.

You made a beeline for the door leading to your cabin, letting the door swing open with the rock of the ship as you stepped inside and turned back to face the man behind you. Jake braced his hands on the door frame, peering down at you with a boyish grin.

“I’m not afraid of you,” you stated matter-of-factly, causing Jake’s face to morph into an expression of shocked delight, the grin still plastered on his face.

“Is that so?” He hummed, dropping his arms back down to his side and closing the distance between you.

You nodded, and he let out a snort, leaning his face closer to yours.

“You sure about that?” He asked, arching a brow at you as his grin gave way to a devilish smirk. “Think of all the things I could do to you right now, little Guppy.”

The two of you stared at each other for another moment, your eyes roaming over him as he watched you.

“You won’t do anything,” you affirmed, pulling your shoulders back in a bid to seem more confident. Jake’s smirk morphed back into a grin as he snickered, wrapping his pointer finger around your own.

“There are a lot of things I’d like to do to you, Tesoro,” he chuckled, bringing your finger up to his lips and pressing it them gently. Your cheeks warmed at the gesture, and a quiet gasp left your mouth, much to his glee. His lips lingered for a moment before he slowly dragged his finger away, allowing yours to fall. You swallowed thickly, heart racing as you took him in.

He was charming, flirtatious, and downright rakish at times, but there was an edge to the man in front of you that gave you pause. Things that weren’t always so obvious to the casual onlooker. The months you had been a member of the crew, you had seen the man work as hard as any of them. You had seen how he cared for the ones closest to him, had made sure that they had everything the needed. You had seen how he kept a watchful eye on you, making sure you never took on too much work and making sure that none of the other crew members gave you a hard time.

“You’re a good man, Jake Seresin,” you told him, earning a blink of surprise. He looked like he wanted to say something but thought better of it, shaking his head with a wry smile. He backed away from you and out the door, eyes never straying from you as he rubbed at his bottom lip.

“You can return my coat tomorrow,” he murmured. “Get some rest.”

And with that he turned and entered his own cabin, the door closing behind him with a muted thump. You stared at the open door for a moment, willing your heartbeat to slow, the skin of your finger still tingling. Slowly, you reached out for the door, swinging it closed until you heard it latch and pressing your forehead against it and closing your eyes. You pulled the coat tighter around you, inhaling the musky, leathery scent and letting out a resigned sigh.

You were no stranger to storms, the cracks of lightning and rolls of thunder soothing you to sleep more times than you could count. It wasn’t always that way, though. No, when you were little, you had been terrified of them, hiding under your covers and willing the violent energy to go away and let you rest in peace.

Whimpers would slip past your lips as you shivered in fear, grasping desperately for any kind of way to ground yourself and tune out the storm. On one such night, you remembered the storm being so violent that you tore out of your bed with a fright and into your parents’ bedroom.

“What is it, little minnow?” Your father had asked you, sleep fading quickly as he took in your trembling form and tear-filled eyes. “What has you so afraid?”

“The storm,” you whispered, throwing yourself into his arms as another rumble of thunder tore through the quiet space.

“Is everything alright?” Your mother had asked, rolling over with concerned eyes as she took in the scene before her. Your father rested a reassuring hand on her side, smiling softly.

“Everything is alright, Pen. Go back to sleep.”

He had turned back to you then, moving to sit at the edge of the bed before hauling you into his arms and through to the living room. Setting you down, he struck a match, lighting a fire that illuminated his weathered face and sending shadows dancing out of sight. He eased into his armchair with a groan, eyes peering over at where you stood with a familiar twinkle as he held his arms out for you.

“C’mere.”

You did as told, allowing him to pull you into his lap, resting your tiny head against his chest and finding comfort in the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.

“The storm is nothing to be frightened by,” he told you, resting his cheek against the top of your head.

“It’s so loud,” you whimpered, pressing closer to him as the storm raged on outside.

“Aye,” he chuckled, patting your back. “That it is. Do you know why that is though?”

“Why, Papa?” You asked, pulling away to look at him.

“A long time ago,” he hummed, peering into the fire, “the sea and the sky were madly in love. They would spend every day together, and it wasn’t long until the land grew jealous of their love.”

“Why was the land jealous, Papa?”

“Because the land was all alone, you see. She wanted the sea all to herself and could not bear the thought of the sky being able to hold him. And so one day, she dragged the sea away, trapping him in her clutches so that the sky could not reach him. She locked him in her embrace, vowing to never let him go.”

“But what about the sky?” You asked, eyes wide and mournful. Your father brushed your hair behind your ear with a small smile.

“The sky tried with all her might to free the sea, but the land’s hold was too strong. And so, in a fit of despair, she wept. She wept so hard that the pieces of the sea that she had fell out of her hold, falling down, down, down.”

“The ocean raged against the land’s hold, reaching for his love and gripping on to any part of her he could hold. They gripped onto each other so tightly for fear of losing one another again. Upon seeing her love, the sky cried out and her joy illuminated the world in flashing light. However, the land was not happy, and so she pulled the sea away, starting a never ending chase. For the most part, the land is able to keep the two separate, however sometimes she grows tired, allowing the sky to catch up and see her love once more. This, little minnow, is why we have storms.”

His words were punctuated by another roll of thunder, but this time you didn’t feel afraid. No, this time you felt sadness. Your brow furrowed as you frowned at the shadows of the rain that passed through the simple window, and you settled back against your father’s chest, thinking about how lonely it must be to have someone you love so close, yet so far out of your reach.

“Papa?”

“Yes, little minnow?”

“You won’t leave me, right?”

“No.”

“And you won’t leave Mama or Bradley either, right?”

“No, little minnow. I’ll always be by your side.”

Placated, you allowed your eyes to close as you drifted off, your father’s voice lulling you to sleep on the sound of a lullaby.

“Oh, the summertime is coming And the trees are sweetly blooming And the wild mountain thyme Grows around the blooming heather

“Will you go, lassie, go? And we'll all go together To pull wild mountain thyme All around the blooming heather Will you go, lassie, go?”

You awoke with a start, momentarily forgetting where you were. The rain pelted against the pains of the windows, the wood of the ship protesting loudly as it bent to the whims of the stormy sea. Shouting could be heard from the deck as the storm raged on, and you looked over towards the other bed to find that Natasha was nowhere in sight.

Striking a match to light the lantern, you dressed quickly, your feet barely in your boots before taking off down the hall and out into the maelstrom.

The rain felt like pellets against your face as you took in the chaos surrounding you. Water splashed onto the deck from all sides, knocking men onto their backs left and right. Lightning cracked above your head as wave after wave came crashing forward, and you grabbed onto the rope lining the walls to keep from slipping.

“You shouldn’t be here!”

You turned to see Javy stomping towards you, figure drenched from the onslaught of rain. He grabbed your forearm, nearly falling as a wave crashed down beside you two. He glared at the water as it receded, turning his gaze back to you.

“He’s not going to like that you’re out here!” He hollered over the deafening noise, jerking his head back towards the cabins. “You should get back inside.”

“I want to help,” you shouted back, watching as a wave took out two of the men, sending them crashing into the side of the deck with two hard thumps. Javy didn’t get a chance to answer as you were yanked out of his grasp, coming face to face with the captain himself. His green eyes blazed with fury as they beheld you, his grip firm as you tried to yank your arm back.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” He hissed, leaning forward until he was nose to nose with you. You puffed up your chest, fixing him with a glare that you hoped was even half as intimidating.

“I want to help!” You exclaimed. Jake’s nostrils flared at your words, and he glanced at Javy long enough to signal for him to leave.

“Out of the question,” he snapped, already dragging you back through the door, the silence ringing in your ears as he stomped down the hall towards your cabin. He threw the door open, pushing you inside. You stumbled forward, whipping around to fix him with a murderous gaze.

“Where’s Natasha?” You seethed, knowing the other woman was somewhere being of use, unlike you.

“She’s down in the galley with Bob,” he replied, blocking the doorway with arms crossed over his chest. Water dripped off of him and onto the floor, and it took you focusing on your anger to keep from staring at where his shirt clung to his chest and abdomen, the white material see-through.

“Then let me go help them.”

“You’re staying here, Guppy,” he gritted out, jaw clenched so hard that it was a wonder it didn’t break. “End of discussion.”

“I’m a member of this crew, and-”

“And so you’ll follow your captain’s order,” he spat. “And you’ll stay put until the storm is passed. I can’t have you falling overboard.”

“But-”

“Are you going to stay put,” he seethed, eyes narrowing dangerously, “or am I going to have to lock you in here? Your choice.”

You pursed your lips, fists clenched at your sides as you glared at him. He huffed, letting his arms fall to his sides as he turned to leave.

“Stay. Here,” he warned, pausing to pin you with one last look. You met his gaze, putting as much malice as possible into it, but making no move to defy him. Satisfied, he stocked off down the hall, the door slamming shut behind him.

“Idiot!” You shrieked, tossing your hands up and turning to throw yourself down on the bed. The ship swayed violently through the waves, the rain never letting up. You thought back to the story your father had told you all those years ago, and you wondered if there was any truth to them. A twinge of sadness blossomed in your chest at the idea that, yes, there could be truth to them. Love was kind and gentle by nature, but taken and separated? It was cold and violent. You wondered if you, too, would have the strength and willpower to chase after the one you loved for eternity, caught in an endless cycle of unification and bitter goodbyes.

How could the sky have allowed her love to be taken out from under her very nose? Had the sea left? Or had he been dragged out of her very arms? Had the sky grown too complacent and forgotten that everything could be taken on a single whim?

Hours passed before the rain let up, easing into a tender drizzle against the windowpanes. The blue found only in the dawn of the early morning filtered through the room, casting a calming air that had the tension in your shoulders easing slightly. Your ears perked up at the sound of the door at the end of the hall creaking open before latching shut. Slow, tired footsteps made their way slowly down the hall before stopping in front of your door. Three, quiet raps sounded against the wood of your door and you murmured for them to come in.

The door creaked open slowly to reveal a tired looking Jake leaning against the door frame, his head resting on his forearm as he looked at you. The two of you stared at one another, saying nothing and just content to study the other. Jake pushed off the door frame, stepping into the room while pushing the door closed behind him. He crossed the room slowly, shirking off his coat and tossing it onto a chair by the desk to your right. You had never seen him so tired, weariness rolling off of him in waves.

He kneeled on the bed in front of you, wrapping his arms around you and burying his face into your neck, inhaling deeply before letting out a sigh. Your hands immediately found a home in his hair, scratching at his scalp in a soothing gesture. Though you hadn’t been intimate in the two weeks since your tryst in the alley, you often found yourself in these intimate moments with the handsome captain.

“Why wouldn’t you let me help?” You asked him softly, earning another sigh. Silence stretched between the two of you for a long moment.

“Couldn’t risk it,” he answered finally, thumb stroking up and down your side absentmindedly. “We lost five men to that storm. Had you not been where I knew you’d be safe, I would have lost my mind with worry that you would have joined them.”

“But why does Natasha get to help?” You pressed, lips pursing. “It makes me feel small and useless to be sitting here knowing that I could be doing something to help all of you.”

Neither of you said anything as your words hung in the air. You thought he had fallen asleep against you after a minute, but then his words rang out.

“I lied to you before.”

Your brow furrowed at that. “What do you mean?”

“Do you remember when I told you about the curse,” he began, voice uncharacteristically quiet, “and how part of it is that we find no satisfaction from anyone? Doomed to feel a constant stream of need and desire? How I had not felt a sense of relief in over six years?”

You nodded. “Yes, I remember.”

“I lied,” he said, pressing closer to you. “I felt relief for the first time in six years the moment I touched you on the docks that first day.”

A beat of silence passed as his words hung in the air.

“What?” You breathed, heart skipping a beat at the admission.

“It’s true,” he murmured against your skin, lips sending a shiver up your spine as they brushed over your pulse point. “I feel no effects of the curse when I’m touching you. I remember what it feels like to feel comfortable in my own skin, and what’s more, it’s the same for the others.”

Your head felt heavy at his words. Was that what this was? A way for him to find relief from the curse that had plagued him for all these years? Is that why he decided to keep you around?

“You,” you paused, cursing the way your breath hitched in your throat. Cursing the way you suddenly felt so cheap and used. “You used me?”

Jake jerked back at that, eyes widened in shock as he took in your watery gaze. He lifted a hand to cup your cheek, stroking it tenderly as he shook his head.

“Guppy, no. That’s not what-”

His words were cut off by the sound of shouting on the deck. Footsteps sounded in the hallway, stopping in front of the door.

“Captain, you’re going to want to take a look at this,” Javy called from the other side, voice sounding apprehensive. Jake cursed under his breath, shooting you an apologetic look as he scrambled to his feet. He grabbed his coat from the chair, shrugging it on before ripping the door open.

“What is it?” He asked, sounding none too pleased to be interrupted. Javy quirked an eyebrow, meeting his gaze in a silent challenge before gesturing with his head for the two of you to follow. You followed suit, eyes meeting Bradley’s as you stepped out onto the deck. A mist still hung in the air, clinging to your skin much like the uneasy silence clung to the crew.

Jake followed Javy to the port side of the ship, taking the telescope as it was offered to him. The storm had brought the Hangman to the shores of an unknown peninsula, rocks scattered in the waters leading to shore. Jake peered through the scope, frown deepening as he took in the sight. Lowering his hands, he handed the scope back to Javy, lips pursed in thought.

“What are your orders?” Javy asked, face stoic as he watched the captain. Jake chewed on the inside of his cheek before standing up a little straighter.

“Prepare two of the rowboats. I want you, Bradley, Mickey, and ten men of your choice divided between them,” he commanded, peering around at his crew before settling green eyes on you. “Nat, Reuben, and Bob? You’ll stay here. If we aren’t back by midday, come find us.”

The crew scrambled into action, moving to follow his orders with haste. You didn’t move, waiting for him to order you back to your cabin.

“What about me?” You asked after a moment. Jake’s lips tugged into a smirk as he crossed the distance towards you. His fingers pressed under your chin, tilting your face up to look at him.

“You?” He chuckled. “You’re with me.”

A/N: To the two or three people that read my stories, you are greatly appreciated. Also, I am getting rid of my tag list. If you would like to keep receiving notifications for when I post, please follow @sailoraviator-library and turn on post notifications! As always, reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated. You can find my stories with their updates on AO3 under the username sailor_aviator.

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185 notes · View notes

the-traveling-poet · 5 months

Text

We hit 300 followers?! Thanks y’all 🫶🏼🤎 In celebration, here’s another Soft!Levi drabble cause OOC Levi can be a fresh breath of air :)

An image popped into my head the other night about Levi being so (secretly) smitten with you that he’d do literally anything for you and to help you, including keeping you warm on winter-time expeditions, and I just lost it I hAd to write.

“Whose bright idea was this anyways? Venturing past the walls while the weather is in the negatives.”

“It was Commander Erwin’s, sir.”

“Well then he isn’t too bright, now is he.”

Eld shrugged his shoulders once his Captain turned his back, shooting a look over to Gunther with a silent plea for something to say for the man to feel less bitter.

Gunther only pursed his lips and shook his head, unable and unsure how to help the poor man console their grumpy Captain.

He’d never been one to complain about the weather, that much they knew for certain. He never made a comment if it were too hot or too cold outside. Rather, he’d just dress accordingly and scoff at Hange for whining and cursing at the sky.

But today…Today was different.

Sure, the weather was a bit nippy. The wind had yet to cease its constant flow across the fields, and occasionally a speck or two of snow would float down from the heavens. It wasn’t the worst weather they had traveled through, by far.

But Levi was irritable. And when he was irritable, his squad had learned to tiptoe around him for fear of a quick lashing from his tongue.

While Oulo echoed their Captain’s complaints to a very unimpressed Petra some feet away, Eld and Gunther wondered amongst themselves as to why this could be.

They were only scouting the perimeter for titan activity, so that they could relay this information back to the Commander for the upcoming expedition that was soon to be held. So what could have set the raven off about this mundane, ordinary task?

The answer flew before their eyes and landed on the ground with a soft crunch as the frost clinging to blades of grass were squashed under foot.

The squad’s fifth Cadet, Y/N, was quick to sheath the handles of their gear back into their holsters and wrap their arms around their shoulders. Exhaling a breath that fogged the air, they shuddered.

“N-nothing on the east side,” they reported quietly to Captain.

Levi was quick to turn to them, assessing the shivering state they were in. The furrow in his brow and the downward tilt of his lips didn’t go unnoticed by the second command and his friend, who snickered to one another in realization.

Y/N was freezing out here. Of course their socially awkward Captain would be pissed about having his lovely Cadet uncomfortable.

Though their snickers soon died in their throats when, instead of responding to Y/N’s report, he shook off his Survey Corps jacket and cape and draped them over their shoulders.

“We’ll be heading back to Headquarters in no time. Till then…Just…S-stay by me, alright? Cant have you catching a cold.”

His muttered statement and pink tinted cheeks were enough to halt even Oulo in his rambling, who turned to Petra in confusion.

“It’s not that cold-“ he muttered in confusion, to which Petra quickly shushed him as she watched on in glee.

“T-thanks,” Y/N whispered, taking a step closer to Levi and huddling into their additional clothing.

“Don’t mention it. I-I run hot anyways.”

taglist: @21aurora @deepzombieyouth @braunsbabe

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waffles-art-writing · 1 year

Note

Hey um can you do platonic task force 141 with a gender neutral child reader who is like Six from little nightmare

The team find the child eating fresh meat in the old basement(first meet)

Child reader can only said a few words

Summary: The team find you in a dusty basement under stranger circumstances. Price comes to find out you love causing chaos back at base.

Proofread: kinda

Pairing: Task Force 141 ! Platonic x Child!Reader

WordCount: SHORT ASF SO SO SORRY

Age Rating:

Codename:

KEY: Y/N - Your Name, L/N - Last Name.

Warning/Info: I have writer's block - apologies! Gore, COD STUFF, descriptive eating & smell and other heavy described behaviours and scene, cursing, (IDK Little Nightmares too well so bare with me on this one)

Request?: YES

————

Soap detonates the breach on the door, the hinge’s getting ripped from the frame. The heavy bolts falling to the ground with a clack, the dust fills the air, darkness shrouding the staircase down to the basement of the building. Ghost’s eyes scan his surroundings through the night vision, the power went out just as they breached the front door of the building. “Basement breached” Soap states over the comms, Price’s voices crackles to life acknowledging them.

The stench from the basement makes all the mens spines shiver, the smell of something rotting urges the bile to bubble in their throats. Ghost is beyond thankful he’s wearing a balaclava to help limit the smell, yet the acid and musky smell still makes it to his nose. “Steamin’ jesus. What the hell is that smell” Soap mumbles, attempting to cover his nose with his shoulder, keeping his gun raised. “I have no clue but it makes me wanna be sick” Gaz states, his eyes watering. Both him and Price just met up with Ghost and Soap as they started descending the stairs. “Get this over and done with so we can get air boys” Price grumbles, following behind his team.

Ghost steps onto the floor quietly, his eyes peeled for any movement. He checks the doorway before entering a room off to the side, Gaz and Price at the other door to the other room. Soap taps Ghost’s shoulder, his eyes locked onto something in the dark corner of the room. “The hell is that” the Scotsman questions, his eyes not moving away from the small being hunched over in the corner. The yellow jacket adorning its back is stained with god knows what, clearly dirty, the small tears can be seen. The wet crunching sounds can be heard from the corner, the sound of flesh tearing and snuffles. Almost sounds like a dog got into the meat locker and going crazy m, eating the meat as fast as it can. “Price, you might wanna come over here” Ghost states, Price walks over asking what’s going on. Gaz behind him.

“The bloody hell is that” the older man questions, his brows furrowed as he steps forward. He’s not sure what to do, from this angle it looks like a child. But that’s what they are all hoping for, and not some kind estranged person that’s gone psychotic in the dark basement over a long period of time. Which could possibly be true as well, highly likely in reality. All the men jump backwards when the small being turns around, their wide eyes staring at them like beady little bugs in the night. “Mother of god” Soap curses as he watches the sickening red blood drip from the child’s mouth, his stomach twisting as he realises it’s eating raw meat. Fresh, raw meat. Everyone in the room wants to gag and leave, but Price picks up the courage and approaches the kid.

Soap watches their captain with disgust, Gaz has his hand covering his mouth as Ghost just stares. His brows furrowed behind his mask, his own stomach churning like a raging storm. By the time Price manages to pick the child up, they have only said very few words. The words were very mumbled with the likes of not knowing English and how to speak too well. “Where take me?” Was the main thing they were saying, questions where the team was taking them when they made their way out of the damp and rotting basement.

The team settles down on the plane, they keep a good distance between themselves and the child as they are not too sure what exactly is up with the kid. Gaz managed to clean their face, as the smell of blood and the look of deep red dripping to the floor was not helping his stomach one bit. The kids' yellow raincoat was something they all kinda looked at with curiosity, why were they in a yellow raincoat if they were in a basement? By the time they got to base, everyone got comfortable seeing the kid staring at them with curiosity, like every child. The one that piqued the kids interest the most was Ghost, of course, the skull mask and quiet, brooding demeanour and cold eyes always seemed to gain the attention of anyone. Especially a kid no matter what they were doing beforehand.

*Random interactions at base*

The sound of small feet sprinting down the corridor and lightly giggles gained Price’s attention from his office, the door was open slightly. The room was stuffy after a hot day so he wanted to air it out, which went through the windows and the door was open. “YOU WEE ANKLEBITER C’MERE!” A scottish accent yells out, thunderous boots hitting the cement floor. Price is looking at his door, contemplating if he should go out to check on them. “Not my circus, not my monkeys” he repeats, his words getting cut off by the yelling of another voice. “JOHNNY! WHERE IS MY MASK!” This time it’s a Manchester accent, more specifically Ghost’s. “My circus my monkeys” Price repeats quickly as he gets up from his desk quickly, pushing his door open to see a very much pissedoff Simon Riley stalking down the corridor. You could practically see the fire behind the man's eyes. “You’re a dead man Soap!” The Brit yells, passing Price quickly. Price pinches his brow as he follows after the raging man, concerned for Soap’s safety more so over yours. Knowing full well that Ghost wouldn't lay a finger on you, but would gladly give Soap a new bruise to add to his plentiful collection of colours.

Price turns the corner to see you, perched on a shelf, Ghost’s mask tucked in hands with a large cheeky grin spread across your face. Your eyes covered by the mop of hair, you screamed when they tried to cut it. Your yellow coat overtop one of the boy’s old shirts and some basketball shorts they took from a rookie. Price glances over to the other side of the room, Ghost has Soap cornered, he looks like he is watching all his life flash before his eyes in one go. “Kid…. Please. Just give his mask back before someone gets hurt” you look at Price your head tilts to the side in question.

Price just sighs as he watches the team yell at eachother, and you just fuel the raging chaos.

————

So sorry it’s so short! I just couldn’t think of anything!! ;-;

#fanfic #cod fanfic #cod mwii #cod x reader #ghost cod #call of duty modern warfare #soap cod #captain price #kyle gaz garrick #little nightmares #writers block #ghost mw2 #soap mactavish #simon ghost riley

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siilvan · 1 year

Text

aqua regia

part two | part three

characters: nikolai

summary: you’re sent behind enemy lines to disrupt a chemical weapons smuggling ring. the plan goes awry, and you’re cut off from the team - all except one.

genre: general, fem!reader (bravo 0-5)

warnings: semi-proofread, sorta suggestive moments, cursing, canon-typical violence, nik’s a flirt, reader’s a bit of a mess, reader is shorter than nik (he is 6’4”), i tried my best to research russian nicknames please spare me

word count: 3.7k

note: i will kiss you on the mouth if you get the title reference– also, i want to be nik and price’s controversially young gf. enjoy <3

the stones and gravel crunching under your boots kept you grounded as you traversed the thicket surrounding the compound. it was tucked away, inland enough to be hidden from passing ships, but close enough to the shore to access an easy escape during an attack.

you ducked down low as a spotlight crossed over the tree line, using the greenery to your advantage. with bated breath, you watched closely as the light crossed your path before continuing down the line.

"bravo 0-5, do you copy?"

price’s voice came through the radio, slightly distorted due to the distance and the constant rain that had been pouring ever since you started your miserable trek.

the mission was simple, really. infiltrate the factory inside the compound, locate the chemical weapons, set them off, and extract. the group guarding them was local paramilitary - inexperienced mercenaries that’d run off with the product if they knew its worth.

you raised your free hand to the radio on your shoulder, clutching your gun close with the other. "copy, captain. i’m just outside the facility." scanning the outer wall, you didn’t spot any targets.

must’ve gone inside after the rain started.

"good," price started again. "i’ve got good news and bad news, which do you want first?"

the slight chuckle that followed his question meant that the "bad news" wasn’t so terrible.

"you know what i prefer, bad news first. give me something nice to cling to at the end."

he chuckled again, and you heard voices in the background. the rest of the team, probably. while you were sent to the compound alone, they were busy securing intel and evacuating a nearby town that could be affected by the fallout.

"alright, i’ll give ‘ya the bad news; the weather’s only going to get worse. you’ll probably be seeing some lightning pretty soon," as if on cue, you saw a flash in the distance. "it’s not looking like the storm’ll let up any time soon. tomorrow morning, at the earliest."

you let out a sigh. fantastic.

"what’s the good news, then?"

"you’ve got a friend on the inside." price’s voice cut through the static again. "nikolai managed to infiltrate earlier. said he’d set up in the factory, all you have to do is make your way to him."

it was your turn to huff out a laugh. "our hero, as always." you holstered your gun and went prone, inwardly cringing at the mud you’d be getting on your gear. you could strip off your outer layers once you made it inside. "i’ll update you when i reach him, shouldn’t take too long."

"solid copy, 0-5. good luck."

getting inside the outer wall was easy enough, thanks to the patrols heading inside. you scaled a shorter wall - which was easier said than done with soaking wet gear weighing you down - and encountered a pair of guards nearby.

sticking to the shadows, you waited for one to break off. their conversation continued on for a few more moments before they finally separated.

one headed your way while wiping some of the water from his face. you ducked behind a set of crates and waited for him to pass by, your fingers wrapping around the handle of your knife. just as his back was to you, you silently lunged.

a quick stab to the throat as you yanked him down was enough to neutralize the first guard. you dragged his body to your former hiding spot and pursued his companion. he was busy fiddling with a lighter and a cigarette as you approached.

another silent kill, another body hidden.

you continued to make your way towards the factory in the middle of the compound. the storm may be an inconvenience, but it helped provide some cover as you dispatched the small patrols.

as you finally took down the last of the guards in your path, an ear-piercing shriek of static and feedback caught you off guard. you dropped to your knees and let out a string of curses, quickly reaching for the radio and turning it off. the air went silent again, and you breathed out a sigh of relief as the ringing in your ears began to subside.

the relief was short-lived; the few remaining patrols likely heard that, even over the rumbling thunder steadily approaching.

you got to your feet and made for the factory, approaching the side door and drawing your gun. the heartbeat scanner attached to the side flipped open and showed zero targets, so you headed inside, keeping your gun up just in case.

there were three guards waiting for you on the other side. you managed to dispatch them, but only after catching a bullet in one of your armor plates.

"is this fucking thing broken?" you mumbled to yourself, attempting to fix the scanner after the room was secured. with a frustrated groan, you snapped it closed and decided to leave it for later.

nikolai’s still waiting on me, you reminded yourself.

hesitantly, you reached for your radio and clicked it on again - the soft buzz of static filled the air. at least one thing fixed itself.

"i’m in the factory. can you read me?"

silence.

"captain, i’m inside. do you copy?"

still no response.

you clicked through the channels, trying to find any that the team could be on. "this is bravo 0-5, in the blind. can anyone hear me?"

after a beat of literal radio silence, you turned it back off with a huff. guess it wasn’t fixed, after all.

you traversed the factory halls, making your way to the target: the storage area located in the center of the building. your heartbeat scanner and radio may be broken, but at least the silencer on your gun still worked as expected.

after descending a few flights of stairs, you reached a set of industrial doors - strangely unguarded, you noted. a quick search for corpses brought no results, so you kept your gun close, still, as you slid one open just wide enough to slip through.

the harsh fluorescent lights granted you with total visibility of the storage bay, which sat suspiciously empty, as well.

adding to the list of oddities was the sheer silence that seemed to fill the room. the only sounds you could make out were your own quiet breaths, your boots padding against the concrete floor, and the occasional shifting of your gear as you walked.

glinting metal caught your eye, and you swiftly aimed your gun at a set of shelves filled top-to-bottom with boxes to your left. slowly, you approached the source of the light - armed guards, surely.

a beat passed without any movement from the offending party.

"there’s no point in hiding, i know you’re there." you called out towards them, anxiously adjusting your grip as you awaited a response.

"promise you won’t fire, then?" a deep, accented voice replied. russian, you recognized it immediately.

a relieved chuckle left your lips as you lowered your gun. "should’ve known it was you, nikolai," you said as the man left his hiding spot, greeting you with a self-satisfied smile. "you really cleaned up house, eh? guess we should be calling you 'soap' instead."

"i appreciate the compliment, lieutenant," he started, eyes carefully scanning your form as he took in your state. "but, i think the sergeant would get jealous if i took his name."

your eyes met after a pause, and you blinked at the intensity of his gaze. you’ve had the pleasure of working in the field with nikolai before, but one thing that never failed to bemuse you was the look he’d always get the moment he got to work.

dark and heavy, like he was seeing straight through you and all of your defenses.

"did, uh– did you lose comms, too?" you cleared your throat and shifted uncomfortably under his scrutiny, suddenly feeling pity for his past enemies. he nodded his head and blinked, but his gaze remained on you. "a little while ago, yes. i was hoping the issue was just interference, but it appears i was wrong."

he laughed lowly, following close behind as you turned towards the chemical supply. "i’m sure the signal is just being disrupted by the rain," he stated, holstering his gun to kneel down and check the charges attached to the barrels in the middle of the room. "it should clear up once the weather does." he added after a pause.

"i hate to be the bearer of bad news, but before i lost comms, price said the weather wouldn’t be clearing up until tomorrow morning."

nikolai stopped his work to shoot a glance in your direction. you could see the gears turning in his head as he formed a new plan on the spot - a skill of his you greatly appreciated.

"there’s a small building deeper in the forest," he said as he resumed. "a cabin. it used to be owned by a local hunter, but has since been abandoned. it’s a safe distance from the affected area." he stood up and grabbed a remote from his belt.

"a convenient safe house, then. how’d you find out about it?" you questioned as he handed it to you.

"i know everything, принцесса." he set the device in your outstretched hand and tapped the corner of it gently. "detonator. be careful with it."

you nodded in response, being extra careful as you attached it to your belt.

"i’ve got a small question, nik."

"what is it?"

you smiled at him and crossed your arms over your chest. "'принцесса,' you’ve called me that before. why do you do it?"

"princess" is what it meant.

admittedly, you did understand a little russian thanks to nikolai himself. mostly phrases that you might need in the field or working undercover, with some more "fun" phrases - curse words - in your vocabulary, as well. you had managed to translate the word on your own, but were still confused over it.

"well, i think the nickname is quite fitting, no?" he tilted his head to the side, crossing his own arms to mirror you.

"i don’t hate it," you conceded. "i just thought that russians were a little, uh… particular, about nicknames and such."

"particular?"

you stuttered a bit while finding an alternative phrase. "i mean… i thought that nicknames like that were reserved for people special to you."

"you are special to me, принцесса."

heat rushed to your face at his words. you were used to nikolai’s playful flirting, you even flirted back on occasion, but you never thought to prepare for him saying something like that.

there was nothing you could do other than stare at him, dumbfounded. his smile only grew the longer you stared, until he took mercy on you and nodded towards the barrels, reminding you of your objective. "you brought a gas mask?"

your hands practically flew to your belt, searching for the mask. unhooking it and quickly checking for any damage, you responded with an affirmative hum. "uh, yeah– yeah, i’ve got it."

"good," he started for the exterior doors. "let’s get moving. the guards have probably started searching for their missing already."

you made your way out of the compound together, dodging the patrols searching the areas you had passed through earlier. nikolai’s intuition was spot on, as always. the two of you scaled the outer wall again and ducked into the tree line, sliding your gas masks on.

"on your go, lieutenant." he spoke from next to you, his voice slightly muffled through the mask. the detonator was held tight between your fingers as you watched the panic slowly spread through the facility below. you took a breath and flicked the switch.

an explosion erupted from the factory, throwing any of the nearby guards off their feet and no doubt killing several more. even from your position, you could feel some of the shockwave.

mission success.

"beautiful work," nikolai praised you with a satisfied laugh. "that will send a message." he continued, patting your shoulder proudly.

you turned away from the chaos, facing him and adjusting your mask. "we shouldn’t stick around, i feel like i’m being fucking waterboarded in this." you messed with your mask, attempting to breathe around the rain-soaked fabric.

"understandable. follow me," he nodded towards the forest. "the safe house isn’t far, we can stay there until the storm lets up."

you followed nikolai through the dense trees, silently noting to yourself that the weather had gotten worse; the thick layer of clouds was constantly illuminated by lightning, and you jumped more than once at the loud cracks of thunder that followed the brighter flashes of light.

during your second miserable trek of the night, you heard a familiar sound from the radio - someone was trying to reach you. shortly after you clicked it on, a voice cut through the static.

"finally managed to reach you," price’s voice came through. "do you copy, 0-5?"

"solid copy, captain." you replied, tilting your head towards the radio so he could hear you. "we lost comms for a good while because of the storm, but the mission went without a hitch otherwise. things okay on your end?" you let out a soft grunt as you clambered over a fallen tree.

"everything’s fine here. i’m assuming 'we' means you and nik made it out together?"

"correct," nikolai answered, offering his hand to you after encountering a second fallen tree. "we can’t extract in this weather, price. there’s a cabin nearby that we’ll be staying in until it clears up."

you accepted his offer and grabbed his hand, using it to pull yourself up and over the tree. you let go as soon as your boots were on solid ground again, much to the man’s chagrin. it was near-impossible to see his disappointment under the mask, though.

price released a crackly sigh. "i understand. we’ll send someone out your way as soon as we can. let me know if you need anything."

"copy all, captain. we’ll keep in touch."

after what felt like ages of walking, you reached the cabin. you immediately pulled off your mask once you were through the door and internally thanked whatever gods you could think of for being able to breathe clearly again.

"you should get out of those clothes," nikolai said after removing his own mask and dropping it on a small dining table near the kitchen. "i’ll see if i can start a fire and warm the place up."

as he walked towards the fireplace, you made quick work of your outer layers, stripping down to just your slightly damp undershirt, pants, and boots. "are you sure it’s safe to start a fire?" you asked, taking a seat on the small, worn sofa and starting to remove your boots.

"we’ll be fine, the enemy is too busy falling head over heels to worry about us." he reassured you as the fire sparked to life, illuminating the room in a warm light. nikolai stepped back from the fireplace and walked over to where you were sitting, kneeling in front of you with a soft, "allow me, принцесса" falling from his lips as he gently batted your hands away and took off your boots himself.

you watched as he grabbed the back of your ankle and guided your heel to rest atop his knee, carefully unlacing your boot and pulling it off. he repeated the process with the other, setting your boots to the side and slowly dragging his gaze upwards. it landed on your face, and you felt heat rise to your cheeks again under his stare.

his hand, which had settled itself on the back of your calf, circled around and came to rest on your knee. "feeling better?" he murmured, sonorous tone doing little to soothe the burning sensation you felt.

"i, uh…" you whispered, voice suddenly abandoning you. a beat passed, and you moved to get up. nikolai removed his hand and leaned back, allowing you to escape. "i’m feeling fine, thank you. just need to get these dry before morning." you practically scurried over to the pile of soaking wet clothes you had left, attempting to lay them out to dry.

he hummed in response. even with your back to him, you could feel his eyes burning holes through you. whether the shiver that ran down your spine was caused by him or the cold clinging to your moist skin was a mystery to you.

"if you’re cold, you should stay by the fire," nikolai suggested with an amused huff. you turned back around in time to see him stand up and start undoing the straps and buckles holding his gear in place, setting each piece on the low table in front of the couch. his jacket came off once the gear was removed, leaving him in a slightly damp black shirt that clung to his upper body.

you weren’t typically one for staring, especially at any of your teammates, but… god damn. it was easy to forget just how big he is - tall, muscular, even his aura was something that could make you feel small.

"enjoying the view, lieutenant?"

nikolai’s cheerful question snapped you out of your trance, flicking your eyes upwards to see the pleased smirk plastered on his face.

"enjoying the heat, actually," you responded as you purposefully walked over to the fireplace, sitting cross-legged in front of it to warm up your still-shivering body. he joined you a moment later, quietly settling in next to you and resting his elbow on his raised knee.

the two of you sat in silence for a few minutes, just listening to the steady crackle of the fire as the storm raged on outside. the constant rumbling of thunder was a decent source of white noise, until a loud clap of thunder made you jolt and the hairs on the back of your neck stand up.

if nikolai noticed the noise startle you, he didn’t comment on it. you, however, took notice of how cold you still felt afterwards, even with the fire doing its best to keep you warm.

he looks perfectly content, you thought, glancing at your companion from the corner of your eye. the longer you thought about how cold you felt, the more you realized just how much heat he was giving off. even more than the fire, somehow.

suddenly, you understood what price meant when he joked about nikolai being a "human furnace." you tried to inch a little closer, to bend into the heat he was giving off, hoping he wouldn’t notice if you moved slowly enough.

"still cold, милая?" he leaned closer and whispered, the sincerity in his voice sending more heat through your body than the fire did.

"i am," you confessed while wrapping your arms around yourself. "but, you’re warm." you added, looking up at him with pleading eyes. hopefully he’d take mercy on you again.

he chuckled softly. "come here, принцесса. i have plenty of heat to spare." his outstretched arm invited you in, and you gladly huddled closer, a contented sigh filling the air between you when he pulled you into his side and tucked your head against his shoulder.

"better?" nikolai murmured, leaning in once again. you nodded affirmatively. "much better. i should start finding you when the heater breaks at the base." you replied with a small laugh, feeling his lips curl into a smile against the top of your head.

"i will never deny you."

"even if you’re working or talking to price?"

"especially if i’m doing either of those things."

"you’re too kind to me, nik."

"like i said earlier - you’re special to me, милая."

"i’m starting to believe that." you pulled away just enough to look up at him again. his eyes followed you as you did, leaving you staring at each other once more.

this was far from the first time you two had worked together; it wasn’t even the first time you had camped out, just the two of you. you’ve even made flirty remarks, teased each other, acknowledged that the other was attractive in the past. it was nothing more than banter between friends, something to lighten the mood in an otherwise shitty profession.

as you lost yourself in your own thoughts, you were pulled back to earth by a familiar warmth against your cheek. you blinked, realizing that it was nikolai’s hand gently brushing against your skin. he cupped your face carefully, as if he was worried you’d break under his touch, and ran his thumb along the apple of your cheek.

a moment passed by as he gave you the chance to back away. instead, you leaned into the touch, lifting your hand up to rest on top of his. he started to lean in slowly, and you did the same. your eyes fell closed just as your lips brushed. so close, you thought.

a loud crash forced your head back as you jolted. frantically, your eyes searched the room, looking for the source of the sound - then, you realized exactly what it was.

fucking thunder. again.

your head fell forward against his chest as you let out an exasperated sigh. nikolai’s amused laughter interrupted your short-lived moping, his body shaking with each chortle.

"i didn’t know you were so scared of thunder, милая!"

"i’m not!" you argued, balling your hand into a fist against his chest. "i am reasonably on-edge since we are still working!"

"if this is my job, i think i would like to work overtime."

"flirting won’t make me forgive you."

nikolai cheerfully pretended to wipe tears from his eyes after his laughter settled. "okay, okay. i’m sorry for laughing, принцесса."

"you better be." you grumbled, still tucking yourself into his side despite your lighthearted annoyance. he tightened his grip on you and angled his head down to press a kiss against the top of your head.

after the thunder "incident," you started to feel the effects of the mission. a wave of exhaustion settled in your bones, forcing your eyes closed as you relaxed in nikolai’s hold. he said something to you, but you didn’t quite catch what it was. you could ask him in the morning.

everything could be discussed in the morning.

translations:

принцесса (printséssa) – princess

милая (milaya) – dear/darling

taglist: @sofasoap

#call of duty #cod #call of duty x reader #cod x reader #cod nikolai x reader #nikolai x reader #cod nikolai #sylph.writes

205 notes · View notes

leighsartworks216 · 2 years

Text

#1 Captain

Head Engineer Mark x gn!reader

This idea came to me very suddenly. It was like being punched in the face and being held hostage until I wrote it. It is now 1 AM. I did not proof read this so...

Warnings: angst, hurt/comfort

Word Count: 883

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White, shattered porcelain littered the floor. Its liquid contents were splashed across the room. His eyes followed the trail, dragging across the floor until they reached regulation boots. Dark eyes trailed up the figure, who was slumped in on themselves and panting, and his heart shattered, too. The Captain threw their mug.

Your chest shuttered with a strained breath as you finally realized Mark’s presence in the room. You couldn’t even bother looking him in the eyes as you scurried out, head down.

The Bridge was empty. It felt wrong to stand at the helm alone, but the Captain and Head Engineer had been dancing around each other for weeks since…

He swallowed the thick lump forming in his throat. Now wasn’t the time.

He tread lightly across the floor. One step crunched under his boot and he paused, wincing. He lifted his foot and carefully stepped slightly to the side, avoiding the minuscule fragment.

Deft fingers plucked and picked up every shard, all cupped within one gloved hand. When it became too much for one hand to hold, he, admittedly, floundered. Unwilling to drop all the pieces back to the floor and give up his self-assigned mission, however, he began shoving the handfuls of porcelain into the many pockets of his coveralls. Every once in a while, a fragment would poke through the fabric and into his skin. He would just sigh and readjust them.

His heart fell further into the pit of his stomach when he came across black-colored fragments. One of the largest shards read “#1”, though a portion of the number was broken off into another shard. He knew exactly which mug this had been. Memories of handing you a steaming cup of coffee after waking from your cryo-pod flooded his mind. Maybe it didn’t happen in this universe, but it happened in this mug… metaphorically speaking.

He slinked away from the Bridge with pockets full of porcelain and a heart heavy with grief.

“Thank you for your reports. Tomorrow we will be discussing supplies. Please prepare any requests for shipments before the meeting.” You fixed Gunther with a pointed glare. “Dismissed.”

Murmurs followed the department heads as they filed out of the meeting room. You’d been… distant lately, to say the least. It was easier now, after jumping through countless universes and endless timelines, to separate yourselves from others. It felt almost necessary. Some small part of your mind was always on alert, just waiting for a blue wormhole to open up and force another crystal into your hand.

You absentmindedly ran a thumb over the scar at the thought.

Someone cleared their throat, startling you out of your rapidly descending thoughts. Mark stood before you, shifting from one foot to another and fiddling with a box he held with both hands. He had held it in his lap throughout the entire meeting. “Captain, I, uh…” His eyes flickered to your palm and down to the box. He held it out, avoiding eye contact all the while. “I just wanted to give you this.”

The box wasn’t anything special - the ship wasn’t equipped with wrapping paper or fancy gift boxes. It was just a plain brown cardboard box, taped with a string in the middle for easy “unwrapping”.

You looked to him for answers. He just nodded toward the box.

Mark and you were on rough ground after everything. You tore apart universes looking for him, you held on even as he cursed the very air you breathed. You died with him after destroying the warp core, and yet neither of you could look each other in the eyes. You almost missed jumping across multiverses, if only to see him smile.

The string cut through the tape as you pulled on it. With a little more effort, the flaps were no longer taped down at all, and the box was opened. A shaky gasp fell from your parted lips, gaped in awe at the barest hint of the contents held within. Mark watched with bated breath as your gloved fingers dipped into the box and lifted out with them the cracked, put-together form of your mug.

Some pieces were glued back together, others were barely being held on by tape. The handle looked atrocious. The rim of the mug was sharp. It would not be able to hold water. None of the words were even or lined up correctly, yet the bold black lettering proudly read “#1 CAPTAIN”.

You cradled it in your hands so carefully, as if it contained a soul within and you didn’t want to hurt it. That said, your hands trembled and shook with the rest of your body as you fought back strangled sobs that tore their way free anyway. Fat, wet tears rolled down your cheeks in waves. They had been held back for too long.

Strong arms wrapped around you, pulling you into a broad chest and holding you firmly, being careful the mug between you didn’t get crushed all the while. Apologies sputtered from your lips, uttered like prayers begging for redemption. Mark just shushed you softly and rested his cheek on your head.

You would always be his #1 Captain, even if you didn’t feel like you deserved the title. And he would always forgive you, in every universe.

---

Tag List:

@writeawaythepain

@hyperfixat

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luimagines · 2 years

Note

Warriors gets stressed out during a fight and snaps at Reader, Wind, Hyrule, or Wild to stop with their nonsense because it’s “crunch time.” Afterwards Reader decides that his name is Capitan Crunch.

- Glitter ✨

Brilliant. I'll get right on that.

Masterlist

Content under the cut!

Warrior growled as he sliced through the moblin in front of him. They just kept coming! Where were they coming from? Didn’t he and the Traveler finish off the last of them a while ago?

The black blood oozes off of his sword and he bites down a curse. He can’t lose his head now. He has to keep his cool. He has to stay focused. He has to be leveled.

He hears laughter somewhere behind him and an explosion.

The blast knocks him off of his feet, but away from the moblin as it arcs downward. It misses him completely, but Warrior now has dirt in his mouth and up his nose.

He gets up and spits it out, readying his stance once more.

The culprits fly in not long after it. Wild and you have positioned yourselves on top of a log and have launched yourself at the moblin, crushing its head on impact. You flip and take it out at the knees.

It doesn’t take long for it to explode into the infamous purple smoke.

Wild cheers and sprints in your direction to high five you. “Did you see that?! That was the best one yet! This is what, number six?”

“I think we can take them all out like this” You agree. “We need to see where the next one is.”

Warrior’s jaw drops. His face goes red. “Are you serious?!”

You both snap to him with a deer in headlights look. It seems as if you hadn’t noticed him at all.

Warrior rages out. “Lives are at stake here! And you’re both goofing off by ignoring the people, your teammates, around you! Get in the fight and our of the clouds! It’s crunch time!”

Wild stands at attention with the use of his commander voice. He does the typical knight salute and nods. “Yes, Captain.”

You take a second longer to process the information. You know that he’s mad, but clearly something has caught your attention. Warrior can see that you’re biting your lip to stop yourself from grinning.

Warrior growls and focuses on you instead. “What? What’s so funny?”

You clear your throat and look at Wild, quickly copying his position. “Nothing, Captain Crunch. Getting back to the fight now.”

Wild snaps his head to you in shock. You grab his arm and run away before either hero can get a word in.

Warrior pauses as well. the way you said it so naturally caught him off guard that he doesn’t realize any absurdity in that sentence until he repeats it in his head.

He looks back to you and where you’ve run off but he won’t do anything about it right now. Warrior shakes himself and decides to put his frustrations to use. He locks onto a group of moblins closing in on Wind and he charges forward.

The battle is an old song of dance that Warrior can do with his eyes closed. When the coast is clear and the area has been successfully cleaned of the lurking malice, he goes to check over his troops.

They are tired, a bit bruised but otherwise ok. Warrior sighs in relief and finally lets himself relax.

Legend sits next to him and raises an eyebrow. Warrior doesn’t have the energy to match his sass. “You feeling alright, Captain?”

“I think I pulled something.” He mumbles, closing his eyes.

“Yikes.” He hears Legend say. “Someone get Captain Crunch an ice pack and a beer.”

Warrior’s eyes snap open and he looks to Legend who has the widest grin on his face. Warrior glares and instead locks on to where you and Wild are standing. You both notice in an instant that Warrior has you in his sights, freezing in place once more. No one makes a move.

Time snorts, clapping Warrior’s shoulder with a small laugh. He hands Warrior that beer Legend ordered. “Leave it. Or you’ll make it worse.”

Warrior hangs his head but takes the drink. He’s going to need it.

#linked universe #linkeduniverse #linked universe x reader #lu warrior #a bit short #but I think this is about as good as it's going to get #XD #poor wars

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ghostinthegallery · 4 months

Note

"Remember me." 💖

Drabble based on this lovely set of prompts. spoilers for Twice Dead King below, canon-typical 40k violence. Enjoy!

###

Immortality—it transpired—had been yet another lie by their cruel gods. Living metal was powerful, miraculous, but not untouchable. Nothing was.

A fact Djoseras was painfully aware of as he parried the power sword wielded by the Astartes, a warped and empowered weapon of humanity. His own phaseblade crackled as the sword scraped down the weapon’s edge. He was growing weaker, less and less able to fend off the giant’s attacks. Djoseras had begun this fight damaged, burned from the inside out after channeling the energy of Antikef’s entire defensive array through his core. His silver carapace was charred black, giving him a strange, mottled appearance.

In the end neither of us managed to keep our silver, Oltyx, he mused.

At the thought of his brother, power surged through Djosera’s flux. That was why he had chosen this doomed last stand. To give Oltyx time to reach the exodus fleet and leave these ancient, cursed stones behind. Leave the old ways behind.

Leave him behind.

Djoseras charged, a wordless cry bursting from his damaged vocal buffer. Dust-choked air swirling around him. The space marine captain paused for a fraction of a second, surprised by Djoseras’ sudden aggression. Their blades connected again in a flash. Djoseras did not believe in flashy swordsmanship. His weapon’s purpose was to kill, not entertain like some gilded court dancer. Every strike was precise, economical, rationing was little power Djoseras had left in his core.

He managed to sink his phaseblade into the astartes’ pauldron, cutting into the droplet of blood painted there. Djoseras ripped the piece of armor free and flung it into the dust. He thought he had finally created an opening.

It was his turn to be surprised. The space marine snarled through his helmet and barreled into Djoseras, exposed shoulder colliding with his chest. Djoseras thought he heard something crunch at the impact, but if the unclean warrior felt any pain he did not show it. They both toppled, the space marine’s bulk driving Djoseras into the rubble strewn ground.

Around them, the battle between Djoseras’ Immortals and the other space marines still raged. Djoseras watched one astartes’ head dissolve in a flash of green gauss fire. Heros had fired the shot. Djoseras remembered that he had been nearly as accurate as a deathmark in life. Djoseras’ tiny blade had inscribed hundreds of kills onto the Immortal’s living metal, each a clean shot to the head or heart.

To Djoseras’ left, Seroth fell, ripped to pieces by enemy fire. A natural teacher, who had taken new recruits under his wing. Qeret collapsed next, her leg blasted out from under her. Still she fired, taking down another Astartes before a knife pierced her ribs.

I promised to remember you. Djoseras’ phaseblade blocked the overhead strike from the astartes on top of him. The warrior pressed and the weapons drew closer and closer to Djoseras’ faceplate. I tried. I am sorry to fail you now.

That was when the seed of fear truly took root in his mind. When the unclean died it was not truly the end. It may not be pleasant, but their souls had somewhere to go, something to look forward to or to dread. Djoseras had no soul. There was no existence after this. And as Antikef crumbled around him, he understood that he would have no tomb to serve as a place of remembrance. The only afterlife the necrons could cling to was denied to him.

The energy sparking from both energy blades burned his necrodermis. His motor actuators stuttered. Something in his shoulder joint was starting to melt. He was going to die here. In seconds he would cease to exist.

In the early years of their war, Djoseras had that Zultanekh would be the one to kill him. One good blow with the hammer and Djoseras would die, quickly if not necessarily cleanly. He almost wished that had come to pass, but of course then he could not have asked the crown prince of the Ogdobekh to watch over Oltyx now. A small comfort. Zultankeh would likely guide him better than Djoseras ever had.

But will you think of me when I am gone? Djoseras wondered as the Astartes above him growled like a feral beast. Will you remember our schemes? Our battles? Those nights we met in secret and you reminded me that we still had so much to live for?

The astartes cried something in its guttural, alien tongue. A chant that its comrades soon took up. Two more of Djoseras’ immortals died. The invaders were so maddeningly assured of their victory.

I asked you to remember us, Oltyx. Djoseras felt the broken stones of Antikef digging into his back. Let me give you something worthy of remembering.

Djoseras angled his blade, let the space marines sword slide down and sliced into his faceplate. It sheared through his ocular, into his neural hardware. Alarms blazed through Djoseras’ systems. Half the world simply vanished.

But not the marine, who had jerked off balance. Exposing the weaker armor around his throat.

Djoseras jammed the tip of his blade through the space marine’s flesh where neck met shoulder. He drove the blade deeper, showering himself with unclean blood. The revulsion he expected at this did not come. Probably because the power sword had cut off the part of his neural system that could feel disgust. At least he could still feel some relief. Antikef was far from safe, but this threat would not come for Djoseras’ little brother.

“I am sorry,” he whispered. “I taught you the wrong lessons. I could not protect you from our father or from yourself. Now I have placed the weight of our dynasty on your shoulders, and I cannot even help you bear it.”

The astartes captain slumped and fell, staining the stones of Antikef red.

Djoseras’ remaining vision blurred. Went dark. He did not pray to any god. His kind were far beyond that. But it felt like prayer, facing the heavens and speaking to the two people who might be his tomb and monument where there could be no stone.

“Please,” he said. “Remember me.”

#necrons #wh40k #twice dead king #Twice dead king spoilers #Djoseras #oltyx #zultanekh #drabble prompt #come on how was I NOT supposed to make this one sad?

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nehswritesstuffs · 1 month

Text

HEART PIRATES WEEK 2024 - Day 1 of 9

I told myself last year that I was going to participate in Heart Pirates Week this year, and by thunder I'm going to participate in Heart Pirates Week!

Day One: Jean Bart - Cursed

457 words; I know the rules state that entries should be safe for work, but I also know each workplace is different, so I will be listing different qualifiers for each one; today’s warning includes references to Jean Bart’s past, as we all know that is not sfw by any means; these are going to end up being short because I said so (and I need some things that are shorter bites to practice on); very much NOT beta-read holy shit pls I’m on a time crunch here

-_-_-_-_-_-_-

The skin on his back crawled.

It had not done so in a while, to the point he nearly forgot the sensation. How long had it been…? Months, at least…

His skin feels like fire. No, like ants. Not quite—like flaming ants that are just beneath the burn that’s centered on his back. He freezes in the middle of the town square, only for Clione and Bepo to stop walking as well.

“What’s wrong?” the Mink asked. “You’re acting strange.”

“It’s… there’s something that’s not right,” he replied. The large man glanced around the square—it was no different than any other seafaring port they had frequented since he had joined under the Captain. Everything looked normal, and yet…

…oh.

“There’s someone here,” he said gravely. “There’s someone like me.”

“You sure about that, big guy?” Clione asked quietly. “How can you tell?”

“I simply can.” Jean Bart moved his way through the crowd, using his scar as a guide; the more it itched, the closer he was. The trio eventually came to the entrance of an alleyway, where there was a figure hunched behind a stack of broken crates, back to the wall as they shivered in the Spring Island’s autumn.

“No…” the figure said, shaking their head in a motion so shallow and quick they might as well have been merely shaking. “I can’t go back.”

“You won’t,” Jean Bart said firmly. He held out his hand and tried to put the most sobering face on he could. “We have the same curse, in the same place, I imagine.”

“You… you were also…?” The figure leaned forward slightly, trying to get a look at good look at the trio. A scar ran down the side of their face, marring the skin so severely it looked like it had been extra branding, the scab tissue picked at and picked at until what remained was a gnarled mess. Was this a man…? For all the pirates could tell… though their voice dropped as they whispered, “a slave…?”

“I was a member of the Household of Saint Charlos,” Jean Bart confirmed. The person’s eyes went wide with hope. “I don’t know how you found your way here, but I know where you can go where no collar waits.”

“Where…?”

“With the man I will follow ‘til my dying day: Captain Trafalgar Law. He does not care for curses and neither does the rest of the crew.” Jean Bart stretched his hand out a bit further. “Welcome.”

Was the Captain a little irritated that they came back from the market with what marked their eighteenth mouth to feed? Yes, just a little, but he also, really, truly, couldn’t say no… not as long as they had the bunkspace.

#HeartPiratesWeek #HeartPiratesWeek2024 #Jean Bart One Piece #Heart Pirates #One Piece #One Piece fan fiction #fan fiction #Jean Bart is just such an interesting bit character and I'm super curious as to why he even is a thing (affectionate)#then again. it is Oda. he works in mysterious ways #my wedding present to you dear reader #yes that's today and that's why this is queued to go off when it is lol

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somethingclevermahogony · 3 months

Text

Find the Word Tag Game

@inkovert tagged me here- thanks! Go to their page and check out some of their stuff, its great stuff!

my words were melody, leaf, smooth, and ache. As of right now I only have two WIPs, books 1 and 2 of The Testaments of the Green Sea (both of which are currently unnamed, oops) and so I will be drawing from there.

I am tagging @apolline-lucy, @illarian-rambling, @that-chibi-writer, @hallowedfury, and whoever else wants to answer, if you want to play! Your words are violet, crunch, flower, and teeth.

Melody

Istek, Dati, and Sihunu danced with a feverish intensity. It was as if, just for that moment, Istek's age and his sickness had melted away. He danced with the smooth movements of a younger man, held close both of his loves, the brave captain of the poems given new life by the melody. Dati and Sihunu leapt and spun with the grace of bounding gazelles. Lat watched his parents from his table, a slight smile on his usually sour face. Though he would never admit it, he was quite fond of weddings. After a moment of hesitation and more than a few bowls of wine he leapt up to join his elders in their frenzied dancing. Penetinos sat near the newcomer Fasti and her son Zures, his face was pale, but the smile on his face was wide. Fasti poured the old man a bowl of wine, though in secret she added just a touch more water than may have been typical. If the old man noticed he did not say. Zures stared in wonder at the tip of Penetinos’ wizened finger as he used his sagecraft to produce a tiny blue flame, only for a moment.

Leaf (Leaves, that counts right?)

"Narul! Look! A forest!" Ninma said as she wiped the tears and snot from her face. Narul was shocked from his stupor by a wet little palm that drummed on the top of his head. At the foot of the crested hill upon which they stood stretched a lush forest. The transition from the arid field and rock to thick greenery was almost unnatural in its suddenness. " Did we go the wrong way?" Narul said. " Nope, northwest just like Burun said! Maybe he forgot to tell us about the forest?" Narul frowned. "I don't even understand how trees like this could be here, the ground is so dry." "Maybe the trees are like you. We should go in!" Ninma said and unconsciously dug her nails into his scalp. Her heart was pounding, and her skin was laced with goosebumps. "Like me?" " Yeah! Like forestfolk with magic but um forest trees? Forest forest?" She said with a giggle. Narul gazed up at the massive trunks. Was she right? The whisper of the leaves beckoned him into the shadows.

Smooth

Narul ran his fingers along the smooth linen which started at his midsection and ended shortly below his knees. It had taken quite some time to assemble the outfit, and in the end after finding no actual garments which could appropriately fit him, the attendants and seamstresses had resorted to wrapping his waist with an ornate table cloth, snatched from some store room and trimmed and shaped to more closely resemble the long pleated skirts favored by Chibalan nobility. A cloak made from snowy white sheepskin, the largest they could find, was draped over his shoulders, held in place by an ornate bronze pin in shape of a snarling bear. His hair was combed and braided, bedecked with rings of Korithian silver and beads of Shamabalan agate and Makoran Amber. The attendants had even tried to shove a signet ring onto one of his fingers, an endevor which would ultimately prove to be in vain. Failing at this, and the application of other more common jewelry, they took to him with bowls of a strong smelling paste, dying his skin with shades of rich red and earthy brown, covering his arms, hands, and chest with wave-like patterns.

Ache

"...I curse you Narul. May you live amongst those vile creatures for a thousand years. May you bear witness to countless atrocities, to every abomination to slither forth from the minds of humans. May you see cities crumble and families wither! May your fleeting happiness be drowned in the filth of the ages! And when time finally catches you, when the names of all who you loved have been wiped clean from your decayed mind by the hands of time, when your petty morals have been smashed by the depravity of man, may you remember my offer. May you remember the kindness I extended. May you mourn your choice. You will die alone, unloved, forgotten, a relic, a lonesome fool who bet his harvest on a diseased field! Enjoy your fleeting time with these humans, but know that when that girl is an old woman, when her body rages against her, when her bones ache, you will not understand her plight, and she will hate you for it. Every love you will ever feel, will end with sorrow and hatred. And when I return to enact my justice for the depravity of your mothers kin, you will receive no kind words from me! This was your choice, Narul. Enjoy it.”

#writeblr #writing #tag game #find the word game #fantasy writing #queer fantasy #testamentsofthegreensea #fantasy world #fantasy #narul

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mopeymi · 1 year

Text

You Have Terrible Morals and Obligations - Soap/Ghost

Official Part 1

“He missed another briefing?” Soap asked, voice laced with concern. Price only sighed his response.

“How many is that now, Cap?” Gaz asked from the side, leaning forward in his own worry.

“3.” Price stated, pinching the bridge of his nose, “But he’s fine, boys. Don’t worry about Ghost.” Soap and Gaz nodded, doubt evident in their faces but now wasn’t the time to question a superior officer.

Price dismissed them soon after. Gaz threw his arm around Soap, a certain quiet falling between them as they walked. They passed an office, door closed and lights off. The name tag caused a certain ache in Soap’s heart, ‘Lieutenant Simon Riley’.

Soap still remembers the day that Price had to get a new one ordered for him since Ghost thought it good to write “Lieutenant Ghost” and scratch out the rest. Apparently it was against regulations.

Gaz flicked him then, realizing Soap lost focus and his eyes had glazed over as he simply ‘walked’ instead of his normal ‘trotting’. Soap only shook his head a little and plastered a fake smile on his face.

“Let’s go to the shooting range,” Gaz suggested, “Little friendly comp?” Soap grinned at that, giving the other man’s shoulder a quick squeeze.

“Oh, you’re on.”

And that’s where Captain Price found them, well more like heard them. They were laughing loudly between shots, curses being passed between them as banter. Price grew accustomed to hearing late night practice, considering Ghost had to keep his skills up for all hours of the day, but the recruits had started to complain and Price wasn’t a fan of that.

He made his way to the door, pulling it open and watching as the two men fired their pistols simultaneously. They quickly put their guns down, pressing the retrieval button on their targets. A fond smile grew on his face as Gaz playfully punched Soap’s arm as the Scot began gloating of his victory.

“Boys, lights out.” The two turned to him and smiled brightly, excitedly pointing at their targets and their impressive hits, “Yes, your both fantastic marksmen. Now get your asses indoors.”

They groaned like petulant children, but began picking up all the same. Soap left towards the stock room first, leaving Gaz and Price behind on the range. Price could see a question hanging on the other’s tongue by the way his eyes dashed to him and away quickly, fingers fiddling with the pistol.

“Gaz,” Price prompted, to which Gaz moved closer.

His voice was hushed as he asked, “Have you heard anything from Ghost?” Price simply shook his head, arms crossing across his chest.

“Ghost is a capable soldier. He’s probably just in a spotty location. Let me worry about him, you worry about yourself.” Gaz nodded his understanding as he moved towards the stock room, “And Sergeant?”

“Yes, Captain?” Gaz responded quickly.

“Please keep an eye on Soap for me.” Then he left, boots crunching against the gravel of the unpaved walkways.

Gaz finally walked inside, placing his used gun on the nearest table to get materials to clean it. Soap sat farther away, pistol already disassembled and certain parts cleaned.

It was quiet as the two worked, neither feeling they had something to say. There was something calming about cleaning their weapons. Perhaps it was the concentration drilled into them from Basic or just how easy it was to get lost in the movements. Gaz could hear Soap shuffle besides him, gun already reassembled and cleaning supplies picked up.

Their gazes met, Soap’s eyes shiny in the fluorescent light of the stock room.

“You asked him about Ghost, didn’t you?” Soap asked, voice quiet. He could only nod his response, “What did he say?”

“Not to worry…” Gaz assembled his own gun in the meantime, staring back at Soap when he finished, “And keep an eye on you.”

Soap took a stuttering breath at that, blinking aggressively to try and will away the tears that wanted to fall. He gave a broken nod and left quickly after.

Gaz knew what Soap was thinking, hell, he was thinking it himself, but they couldn’t say it out loud. Out loud meant some part of it was real. Out loud meant they all believed it. Out loud meant it was some semblance of truth.

Out loud meant Ghost was dead.

Tell me you like it or I might cry

Thank you for the engagement on my first post of this storyline. I honestly wasn’t expecting it and y’all are insanely sweet. I love you! 💕 -Mi

Look a part 2 👀

#ghostsoap fanfic #ghostsoap #soapghost #soap x ghost #ghoap #soap mw2 #ghost mw2 #gaz cod #captain price #cod angst #angst #im new to this #ouchiis

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ghostsbeetle · 1 year

Note

Can you write something about Wesker having a soft spot for Chris pls

Pretty pls, that'd be pretty slay of you king

*bats eyes at you*

You're lucky I love you, son >:( /lh

CW: Cursing, weapons, a somewhat graphic description of bones crunching (cus uroboros), and injuries

I accidentally made it angsty whoops

Enjoy!

➽───────────────❥

How he loathed Chris, how he absolutely despised everything the former rookie had done to stand in his way. It made Wesker sick to his stomach.

Yet, he couldn't deny the fact that he had once truly cared about him, about their team. Even if it was a ploy orchestrated by the agency he worked for once upon a time. The emotional connections he had with his team hadn't completely fizzled out. Heretofore the duo had been almost unstoppable.

He will never forget the numerous times Chris had saved his life and vice versa. It was this connection that had brought him to a still. He stood before his erstwhile colleague.

The taller man towered over the once STARS rookie now turned esteemed BSAA agent. "It seems I may have underestimated you, Chris," his voice came out as a low growl, watching as he scrambled to grab his gun. Wesker was much too quick, however. His leathery boot struck the weapon and caused it to go sliding across the floor. "It's a pleasant surprise to see you're still in the fight. I taught you well."

"Cut the shit, Wesker!" Chris rasped. He was still clearly recovering from his afflictions, "tell me where Jill is!"

The blond man's expression turned into one of disdain, a scowl crossing his features. His hand made a sickening crunch noise as those familiar black tendrils popped out of his skin and along his arm. "You know, you trusted me once." He quickly grabbed Chris by the neck, picking him up. His cat-like eyes narrowed as the man writhed in his grip.

A sharp gasp escaped his throat whilst he was hoisted into the air, "you betrayed our team! You were working for Umbrella the entire time!" The sound of his voice echoed off the thick, stony walls surrounding them both.

"Do you think that means I never cared about you?" Wesker's eyes only narrowed further, "you'll never understand, Chris. I was merely following orders. Just as you are now." After a few more seconds, he dropped Chris, allowing him to catch his breath. He watched intently as the younger male gasped for air. "I may have had my ulterior motives for the events that transpired, but I appreciated having such hard workers under my thumb."

Chris seems almost shocked by this revelation, his expression betraying him. Wesker had once been his captain, yes, but not on any account since the mansion incident had he believed his former leader cared. He had thought of him as nothing but a double agent, a back-stabbing snake.

"Like I said, you will never understand." The man stepped over to where the gun had slid earlier, kicking it back to Chris without hesitation. He knew that Chris wouldn't try anything stupid. No, not at all. "You should quit while you're ahead, Redfield. I know your tenacious nature may make it difficult, but I'm warning you now," he paused and clenched his jaw, "if you continue to stand in my way, I will make your life a living hell."

With that, Chris was left sitting there, mouth agape but no words coming out. This hadn't been the first time Wesker let him off almost scott-free... if you don't count the injuries he left him with. He managed to get up to his feet, examining the gun in his hands.

"I'll find you, Jill. I promise."

➽───────────────❥

(Bonus sort of fluff but also angst because I'm insane)

When Wesker found his former colleague slouched on the ground, he hadn't expected to feel a sense of responsibility for him. In all technicality, yes, this was his fault. The things that had caused Chris to fall unconscious were his doing, his monstrosities.

He easily lifted the man up by his arms and slung him over his shoulder. "I can't believe I'm doing this."

Maybe deep down it was because he wanted to be the one to kill Chris. He wanted to see the look on his face as he took his last breath. But, nonetheless, he would somehow help the BSAA agent recover from his wounds. He easily carried Chris away on his shoulder.

Once they were in a safer place, Wesker set Chris down and began to examine his wounds, starting with his head. He checked for any bruises or other external damage. When he found nothing too serious, he turned his attention to his arms. Still, nothing too severe. Nothing a green herb wouldn't fix, anyway.

His red, cat-like eyes narrowed behind his sunglasses. He lifted Chris's shirt up and was met with the sight of a hefty gash spanning across his torso. Despite all the terrible, gruesome things he had seen in his life, he couldn't help but wince. His teeth gritted together almost instinctively.

"This is much too severe for just a first aid spray, or herbs," he said, though he knew no one could hear him. He pulled out a spray and brought it up to the wound. His finger pressed down on the top, causing it to spatter over Chris's skin. The wound was now disinfected, and it stopped the bleeding, but without being given proper medical attention it could leave a profoundly nasty scar.

With no hesitation, he got up and scanned the area for a needle and thread of some sort he could use. Once he did, he stitched up the injury with trained ease, as if he had done this hundreds of times before. He didn't worry about wrapping it in bandages, he knew the stitches would hold. Even if they didn't, the wound was disinfected and there was a very low chance it would become an issue later on.

He sat down and let out an exasperated sigh. "How many times have I saved you, Redfield?" His voice was a low murmur that only he could hear. He pulled his sunglasses off of his face, rubbing his eyes with his fingers. "You're lucky."

There was a long silence between them. Chris had still been unconscious this entire time, and Wesker was mulling over their years of work together. A slight twinge of guilt tugged at his heart when he started thinking about things too much. He had so many mixed emotions about Chris, and yet it was his fault he was here and injured in the first place. On one hand, he hated Chris for being unable to understand his motives, but on the other…

He snapped out of it. He got up to his feet and left Chris sitting there, propped up against the wall. It was nearly time for him to make his debut with the Uroboros virus. Excella would be waiting, and Sheva would catch on soon as to Chris's whereabouts.

Wesker put his sunglasses back on and, in a quick stride, made his way to the temple. He cast a final glance over his shoulder to Chris and noticed the man was starting to stir. Not wanting to be seen, he went his own separate way.

#chris redfield #albert wesker #chrisker #resident evil #fanfic #this brought me much pain to write I'm so bad at chrisker fluff #ily though

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fruit-salad-ship · 10 months

Text

Pirate AU got me in the angst.

This is unchecked, unedited, and I’m unapologetic, it’s 4:30am I’ll do what I want.

—————————————————

Peach finds herself glancing up amidst the crew, a battle coming to a swift end thanks to their captain, a now cursed being. She did not hesitate to wrap foe in her tendrils and whip them into the ocean, or spike them into the ships deck with such force most enemies broke on impact, not moving further than wherever they landed. Her second in command watched on as this giant woman crushed the life out of another, catching sight of her eyes. The yellow that usually stood at stark contrast to her purple hued skin were now pitch black, completely void of the captains original love or compassion. A once soft woman now stood with sharp teeth bared as the last person she fought threw a harpoon that sliced her cheek, before being torn in two by the monsters grasp.

Peach saw the crew watch on, Grey catching her eye, both of them exchanging a look.

“Get below deck!” Every member of staff looked between Plum, her form still tearing at a body, and Peach who herself couldn’t look away, frightened for the crew. “THATS AN ORDER!” Was shouted with such force, the second mate never raised her voice like this, they all scattered back to safety. Grey paused beside her, one of the last to retreat.

“Do you know what you’re doing?” Peach kept her eyes on the captain, tightening her grip on her sword as a woman she felt so many complex things for slipped further away with each little action.

“Not a clue… Look after them.” He gave a single nod and went to the stairs, while the second in command pulled her pistol out, walking forward on the deck.

It was quiet, the crunching of bones and ragged breath all you could focus on as the huge woman chewed through fallen enemies. Peach took steady steps towards this huge woman, her presence going ignored.

“Plum.” The captain did not turn to look at her. “Plum!” Still nothing, so she raised the pistol to the sky and fired. The sound of the shot resonated, plum paused her crunching, and finally turned to lock eyes with her member of staff. There was no recognition in her face, the sneer that revealed rows of sharp teeth menacing as they flashed white. Peach watched as her captain lurched forward. She held her sword out, and the pistol, and dropped both to the floor. Nothing in the world would make her raise her weapons to someone that looked so much like her wife. The world was cruel to monsters, she would not be another to maintain that behaviour, not when she loved one once before so fiercely.

“Plum, snap out of it!” As the towering woman approached peach stood her ground, not even flinching as a barrel was thrown with force, shattering close enough to get caught on the arm by some of the splinters, the humans eyes focused on plum, her side step smooth and seamless. “What’s gotten into you?” This time you can see the question cut deeper, the monster puts one hand on her head while grimacing, an internal fight raging. There’s hope, in there somewhere the captain resides still, the real her, not whoever this was.

The old pirate is suddenly caught off guard, too busy watching her captain, as she’s rushed by a more stealthy tentacle and grabbed by the leg, yanked into the air, before being slammed back to the deck. This is such a swift motion she gets no chance to think, overcome with pain and a ringing in her ear as her head collides with the solid wood floor. If she’d not have hit the ground so violently perhaps she’d have heard the crack in her chest, or registered the fracture in one arm that put itself out instinctively and took brutal force. Peach felt her body get dragged back, the irony of her immortal self once more dawning on her. She could do this all day and still get up from it. If only the pain wasn’t real, but that was the curse. Feel everything, experience countless lifetimes of hurt and grief and loneliness, never escape. She left a clear red line as she was dragged, head split somewhere under the tangled mop, until the limb holding her let go.

Plum assumed her dead, as if whatever she was now didn’t know of her second mates immortality, shocked and surprised when the woman groaned, pushed her body up slowly, before making a wobbly stand.

“Stop this- you’re going to spook the crew.” Peach paused to notice a loose tooth at the back of her jaw, it was fine, they grew back, so tearing this one out and throwing it to the floor was the smart move, swallowing teeth wasn’t a fun processes in comparison. Plum closed the gap, driven by rage, an emotion she hardly ever wore, expecting this human to flee, but peach didn’t move again, braced for impact sure but stood solid, sturdy, ready.

Plum let a tentacle wrap around her second in commands leg, the grip was tight, growing in intensity by the second.

“This isn’t you-“ peach had to stop suddenly, the pain from the squeeze becoming unbearable quickly, trying to pry herself free with no success, fingers clawing at her captor with futile desperation. The pressure on her leg grew so strong she could hear the bone creak, feel it start to bend, to buckle.

“Plum, don’t!” An instinct that hundreds of years could not wear out, to preserve herself, this would not kill her, and the damage would heal in a day or three, but it would hurt. A lot. The leviathan saw this little human push against her, try to worm free, and with each attempt she gripped tighter until the inevitable happened. Peach let out a guttural shout as the echo of snapping bone resounded in her own body, hand gaining a shake from pain. She looked up into the completely black eyes of her captain, anger and determination settling on her features. What could she do? Fighting wasn’t an option, body still held like a vice, every move jolting her now broken leg with shooting pain, feeling another tentacle wrap her torso, trapping one arm in place.

“Plum I know you’re in there! Stop this-“ choking the words right out of her, that hairline crack in her ribs from earlier giving way to another snap. Peach felt that sharp pain in her chest, a broken rib was one thing, this was something else, as if it had broken inwards, puncturing something, unable to stop the cough that struggled out and caused more pain to rattle around her while spluttering blood out in the process. Breathing was near impossible, and for a fleeting second she was grateful she didn’t need to, able to just about focus on the face peering down at her so close to her own. She was in too much pain to say anything other than a hoarse, strained out “stop“ her one free arm extended to her captain.

Plum felt the hand on her cheek, so small and so weak, a flair of recognition deep down inside, rage and hostility drowning it out quickly. The restrained pirate was thrown with force, her body bouncing along the ships deck a few times before coming to a stop. Peach felt every nerve in her body fire off, and then after a short while of agony, she entered a state of euphoria, brain bypassing the pain with chemicals to assure she didn’t go mad from it.

From here on out, her body acted without thought of herself. Plum watched her shift where she lay, how was this one human just not dying? They were all so fragile typically. She truly did not recall she’d never die, that this was futile. Broken skin began to heal over as she watched, bones being moved as if someone was pushing them back into the correct place. It hurt, it hurt so much, but there was no other option but to get back up, struggling up onto one leg, the unbroken one, a hobble to face the woman she’d come to love, or whatever she’d become now.

“Thats enough-“ One step after another, Peach moved towards her captain, it was pained, it was slow, but Plum just seemed to watch in bewilderment, the closer this one got, the more she seemed to stand strong, repair, wounds and scrapes healing before her very eyes. Now only a meter from her, the undead woman pauses, the entire walk over she expected to be struck again, surprised it never came. “Plum-I know you’re in there.” No flinch, no shifting at all as the towering creature stooped, a sneer still set on her face, taking a step back. This human was unnatural, it started to scare her. Peach watched her grasp at her head once more, whipping around to hiss in a hostile way spotting peach take a step closer. She paused, the exhaustion of this interaction starting to catch up, hands out to soothe the towering sea monster. “I’m not leaving you.” Another step backed plum up against a wall, her tentacles whipping to keep peach away, a fact she ignored. “This isn’t who you are- I know” She was struck hard with a lashing limb, knocked to one knee, breathing, shaking through the sting that bolted through every part of her. Getting back up, continuing her move closer steadily, until she was able to reach out with her one functional arm to touch this woman’s large hand gently, no hostility in her body despite being bloodied, broken and battered. A tentacle came crushing down on her, and for a moment there was nothing.

Peach was held under the weight of this limb, only just able to set her eyes up on the sky, dark, endless night, peaceful. From under this tentacle there was no way the sheer mass of it hadn’t ruptured several organs, snapped what was left of her ribs, potentially buckled the already broken leg in a worse way, the amount of force being put on her overwhelming.

Plum was certain, this time for sure, the human would not get back up, continuing to apply pressure until the deck of the ship started to splinter under her one tentacle. It wasn’t until a small feeling made her pause, a hand, its gentle grasp to the very tip of her limb, the limb trying to kill this person who would not stop calling out to her, Peach had reached for it even in this dazed state, squeezing in a way that felt familiar. Plum pulled the crushing weight of her arm back and peaked at the woman, lying there, so much blood just pouring from her mouth, glazed over and unfocused, but still not quitting. That small amount of space given to take a hesitant glance at this person, plum heard one raspy sentence.

“Come- p-please… come back to- to me” It was so struggled.

Every time this human got close or tried to approach Plum was struck with confusion, a state of panic coming over her, noise in her head like someone was shouting, screaming, having to clasp at her skull as if it’d split and come apart if she didn’t. She blinked, breathed, the culmination of shouting in her head getting so loud, until suddenly, it stopped. The sense of rage subsided, what was once a hazy state of murderous intent receded. Plum felt…like herself, shaking off whatever happened, a dizzy spell hitting her, wobbling, the large leviathan form reducing down to a more human size, collapsing to a heap on her knees as she huffed and tried to catch up with everything, what was that? She felt like she’d woken up from a horrible distant dream.

Her head shot up from staring at the floor, realising she was watching that whole previous interaction, a motionless body lying on the deck about three meters from her, crushed into the floor. She nearly fell running to Peach, had to catch herself twice, stopping with haste beside her second in command who did not move, eyes shut. The state of her body was brutal, bruises forming, bones clearly broken, so much blood- there was too much blood, it scared Plum. She’d seen a lot, you do in the pirating work, but this was a step too far.

Plum cried without control, her little hands shaking to try to reach out at the woman to fix this, try to undo what she did, thoughts that felt like dreams suddenly clicking into place, memories, tangible moments, retracting her reach when she realised it was her that caused this, terrified, so painfully afraid she’d do it again. Her muttering of begging as she hoped the woman before her was ok seemed to pour out without conscious thought, praying to a god she never believed in, pleading that Peach would survive this, getting scared when she didn’t respond, she always responded. Plum braved it, taking a shaky grasp of the injured woman’s hand, squeeing it, calling out to her to wake up, tears starting to fall as the calls went unanswered. She did this, she lost herself- putting her forehead on that damaged hand in hers while just sobbing, hunched over the form of the only person she’d truly ever loved, fully, without condition.

The hand squeezed back, it was so weak, but there, plum shot her head up, looked at this woman, she remained very still, the sudden breathe becoming one of the few sounds the captain heard, an intake of air that rattled, wheezed, struggled, but was now present once more. It somehow made the tears worse, relief that she was alive, Plum felt so much so fast, the grip on her partners hand refusing to falter, her tears getting heavier, unstoppable.

“D-“ she looked at Peach, seeing her try to say something “don-don’t…cry. Is o-“ a pained inhale “is ok.” This seemed worse? How was this worse? Her crying refused to stop, putting the woman’s hand on her cheek, holding it there against her skin. The scuffed and damaged thumb weakly wiped a tear away, the rest of her body unable to respond right now, but she fought to have her hand gesture gently, to comfort Plum in a way she needed right now.

If this was anyone else, they’d have been killed, Peach acted, got the crew away from Plum, and got through to her at a huge cost. Plum recalled the snapping sounds. It made her feel sick, just shaking, refusing to leave this woman’s side.

“I’m sorry, I’m so, so sorry.” Repeated many times, unsure what to do, did she move her? Leave her to heal a little? She didn’t know- filled with regret and rage towards herself, an uncertainty if she should be near people anymore, a fear for her staff, her family, the sick feeling in her gut from the shame and sorrow that refused to shift.

Despite this, the hand on her cheek did not leave, every now and then able to shakily caress her, remind her that she’s not doing this alone. Plum couldn’t help but turn into that scraped palm, hold it as tight as she could allow herself to do. Still apologising, still crying.

The day after this incident, peach stayed in her room ever since Grey carried her there, completely unconscious by that point, the only time she’s ‘sleep’ was while healing rapidly from massive damage. No one had seen her since, she’d locked the door, not even the ships doctor had gone in. Plum had to confront this, she had to apologise again, check on her, try to make this up to her as she wanders down into the ships belly, crew passing, greeting her, seemingly ok with what happened, they were safe, plum was back, the apprehension was dispelled by Grey. She knocks on the woman’s door and waits, hearing a ‘what?’ From within that was undoubtedly Peach’s voice, still sounding tired and worn down.

“I just wanted to see how you are…” There was a hesitation, a moments quiet before her second mate responded.

“I’m fine, don’t worry, just go back to your cabin, rest, you’ve been through a lot.” The door did not open. Plum put her head on the wood and considered her options. The lack of her footsteps moving away was obvious to Peach, so she called out once more. “You don’t have to fix this, please, I just need time to recover…” The pause was poignant, the captain hung on every word. “I don’t want you seeing me like this, it’s not…You dont need that.” But Plum caused it, this was her fault, something she had to atone for, to try to make ok, if she ever could.

“Peach, please, let me in.” Once before this point in time, her pleading would not work, Plum would have to pull rank and demand Peach do as she ask, but…times change, things grow, feelings settle in and become more powerful than anything else. Plum backed up hearing the uneven steps within move towards the door, steps that sounded like they didn’t sit well. The latch on the door opened and it cracked just a little, Plum could see the outline of this woman, no lanterns or candles lit within, she stayed in the dark, recoiling back from the light of the ships hallway, slunk in the shadows. Neither said anything, Peach wanted to but failed to find the words, unable to stop the captain taking a step towards the door, one confident hand touching the wood and pushing it back a bit, a step over the threshold. The further in she went, the more the door opened, the more light was shed on what was within. Plums eyes adjusted, starting to see the features of this woman, the bruising on her skin covering every inch almost, creeping past a cheek, blackening an eye, running across the jaw, down the neck, under the shirt that was done up badly, she must have struggled to get clothes on that weren’t bloodied at some point. Plum went to say something, taking another step closer, a hand reaching out for this woman who’d put herself at risk to bring her back down to earth, pausing when Peach flinched away. Of course she would, Plum did this. Her hand retracted, the other taking it to make sure it didn’t come forward again. The immortal realised what she’d done, trying to quickly back track.

“I didn’t flinch because of- because of anything you’re thinking. I…” Her companion gave a weak smile to try to reassure, but the expression didn’t sit right, she was so upset, brow knitted in a sad way, griping her hand so tight, feeling a sting in it from the hold.

“It’s alright, I understand.” She took a step back, “I’m afraid of me too.” Every glance at her partner stinging more, the black and blue that sat so obviously on her pale skin, tattoos not even visible amongst it, even motions made were jittery, as if the muscles weren’t working correctly.

“Thats not- No, you listen to me.” Peach had to stop her leaving, had to put her hand in the light, having avoided doing so up until now, taking one step forward, catching Plum by the arm as she tried to leave her reach. The motion hurt, her whole torso was on fire doing this, her free hand instinctively holding her side from the pain. Plum got to see closer now the damage done, her hand was fully in the candle light, so battered, so bruised, still shaky. It made her eyes prick with tears, she didn’t want to cry again, please not again. She’d hardly stopped since yesterday.

“Let me go.” Too afraid to move away in case she caused any more damage.

“Not until you open your ears, you cant just ignore me.” She didn’t fight being gently pulled into Peach’s quarters, the door shutting behind them, a bit more privacy from the crew moving around. She stood stiffly, waiting, surprised when the faintest lamp light lit up, an act to make the captain feel comfortable, or, try to at least. To see how hurt this typically durable woman was seeped under plums skin, having to look away from the bruising, unable to stomach it.

“I flinched because I didn’t want you to see this, I didn’t want you to have to feel bad, NOT because you scare me, you don’t, nothing you do could frighten me.” Peach wanted to reach out and hold her, but plum wasn’t even able to look at her, lord knows how she’d feel if she was pulled into an embrace and noticed the few bones still sticking out in strange places, they healed one at a time, worst first, so some were very much still painful, and in places they shouldn’t have been. Her captains inability to look at her was… difficult to cope with. She paused, looking back at the light. “Do you want me to get rid of it? I thought some light would help, but-“

“No, no it’s fine. I just, I didn’t expect you to be so bruised.” Plum finally glanced up at her tentatively, frown growing more prominent as she did.

Peach rolled her sleeves down, and started to struggle to do the buttons up on her shirt more, hands failing to work well, fumbling with each, that is until a hand sat on hers, stopping her, the captains grasp soft.

“Don’t, you’re straining to do that, leave it.” Plum wanted to see what she did, remember it, bathe in the guilt it produced, hand slipping from the bruised digits of her staff to the torso, past shirt and to skin, she was warm. The more she pushed fabric aside, the more damage was revealed, letting the top fall from peach’s shoulder.

“You don’t need to see this.” Said despite the injured woman making no physical moves to stop her company, body hurting, the gentle touching was sweet relief.

“You don’t know what I need.” The shirt fell to the floor to show off a black and blue tapestry, every inch covered in this mottling.

Plum could never forget this, not in a million years, she’d not let it vanish from her mind. She let two of her fingers hook the injured woman’s belt loop on the front of her pants, pulling her to the bed. There was no fight, no words. Plum sat at the back and petted the bed, and peach obeyed, hobbling to sit down, being pulled softly so that her head was on the captains thigh, able to lie down in a position that wasn’t agony. Peach had not had someone put their hands through her hair in hundreds of years, it was so soothing to feel the fingers finding their way back to her after each long stroke through that pinkish mess. Plum watched, saw this woman look up, reach and stroke the slice to her cheek. The thumb that ran along it showed peach only saw her, only the damage she got, a tiny cut, that’s all. Meanwhile she lay beaten, now without her shirt it was clear to see where bones had once pierced skin, plum needed to take this all on, let her hands find those areas that still needed to heal. Her gentle pets and tender attention led to a rarity. One plum had not actually seen before. Peach fell asleep. Her head grew heavy in her lap and she could hear the breathing deepen.

She’d only do this when she was very hurt, sleep was not something she needed anymore. It went to show just how badly hurt she’d been. Plum sat up, the tentacles that often would subconsciously reach for the undead woman, this time staying far back, retracted and coiled as if afraid to touch her. The captain didn’t notice the tears that started again, quickly wiping them away with a free hand as the other stayed on this woman’s head gently. Peach would never know, and Plum would never tell. The severity of this moment would stay with her forever.

#tw damage #tw injury #tw blood #tw fighting #tw bruises #pirate au #fruit salad #brainrot

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ohthatstragic · 2 years

Text

Confessions - p.m

a/n: this will be my first request after my break, so i apologise if it's not up to par, i'm just going through a tough time rn rip, but things will get better. i hope i executed this right, anon! forgive me it not ;(

also pls don’t repost or translate any of my work.. i don’t give you permission to do that.

pairings: maverick x reader

warnings: age gap, angst, alcohol, swearing

wc: 4,576

the request: 'Would you write one in which she has a huge crush on Maverick for so long but she never had the guts to say anything, she doesn't even flirts with him because she's very shy and all, until one day they are at hard deck & she gets drunk & a little sad so she confesses her feelings to him?'

You had a habit of developing feelings for people you could never have. Every time you got close to someone, you couldn't help but fall for them at some point - it was like some curse that a higher being had hexed you with. You never dared to tell them how you truly felt, for the fear of not having love returned. The one time you did cross that line, it changed everything and left a huge scar on your heart. So, now you choose to keep these unwelcome feelings to yourself, hopelessly guarding the sleeve that you wore your heart on.

Sitting quietly across the bar beside Bob, your Y/E/C eyes were glued to Pete 'Maverick' Mitchell who was currently stood chatting with Rooster, the corners of his eyes creasing as he threw his head back in a hearty laugh at something Rooster said. It was never intentional when you fell for someone, especially Maverick. You were well aware of the fact that there was a significant age gap between you and the decorated captain, and that was another reason as to why you would never tell him. He'd never look at you in that way, in your mind he probably saw you as a daughter.

Maverick's familiar and heart-warming laugh echoed out as you continued to watch the pair, your eyes darting to his hand as he clutched his stomach, laughing. Rooster sported an amused open-mouthed grin on his face and you felt your eyes fall to the ground for a split second, your stomach suddenly twisting in what felt like envy.

The sharp sound of Bob's jaw crunching down on some peanuts pulled you out of your daze and you looked at him, slightly peeved. You and Bob got along like a house on fire, considering both of you were shy, quiet people. "Every time I see you, you're crunching down on some nuts, be it pistachios or peanuts, Bob." You laughed, leaning back into your seat and letting yourself slide down a little with your hands in your lap. There was an empty booth just to the right of the pool table, so of course, being the introvert you are, you chose to sit there for the night. Bob smiled widely at your comment, his goofy face making you hum in amusement.

"My mom used to eat them all the time," He smiled at you before bringing a hand up to brush some crumbs off of his uniform. "That's probably where I got the taste for them." Bob added with a soft chuckle, glancing away from you for a moment. You copied him, your eyes running back to find Maverick. This time he wasn't stood with Rooster, he was chatting to Penny at the bar. You felt your heart sink as you watched the two of them share smiles and laughter, and finally hearing it break when you saw Penny place her hand atop of Maverick's. Bob looked back at you, his curious eyes widening when he saw your heart-broken face. "Hey, you okay?" He quietly asked, his fingertips softly brushing against your forearm to catch your attention.

Your gaze darted to Bob, and you quickly sat up in your seat, throwing a reassuring fake smile onto your lips to settle the RIO's nerves. "Yeah, yeah," You chuckled awkwardly, glancing between the table in front of you as you brushed a lock of hair behind your ear. "I'm good, I just zoned out, I think." You nodded slowly, smacking your lips. Bob wasn't too convinced, but he let the weird moment slide, not really wanting to push you any further. He knew he wasn't good at comforting people when they were upset - let alone when they cried. "I think I'm gonna go get a drink." You announced with a huff, quickly standing up as you cleared your throat, trying to get rid of the lump that was slowly building at the back of it.

"O-okay." Bob said, evidently taken aback at your sudden statement. "I'll be with Phoenix." He added, throwing you a supportive smile, despite your obvious malaise. You nodded at him with another fake smile, not trusting your trembling voice to reply verbally. The two of you stood up from your seats and parted ways, your feet taking you to the bar. You chastised yourself for falling for yet another person that you definitely could not have. How could you be so reckless again?

As you reached the bar, your hand reached out to land on the wooden edge, your knuckles whitening as you gripped it. You didn't have the confidence or courage to look to your right to glance at Penny and Maverick. You knew it would hurt too much. So you kept your eyes locked ahead as a new bartender walked towards you with a happy smile. "What can I getcha?" He beamed, leaning against the side of the bar with his hip.

"Double coke and vodka, and two shots please. Strongest shit you have, it doesn't matter." A small smile reached your lips as you looked up at the young man who was serving you. He was tall but well-built, a messy mop of light brown hair sitting atop his head and some thick stubble coating his jaw and cheeks. Couldn't be older than twenty-two.

"Rough night?" He awkwardly joked, hoping you'd see it like that and not him trying to push your buttons. Relief washed over him as he watched an amused grin spread across your cheeks.

"Yeah, you could say that." You replied, sighing, fighting the urge to think about the man a few feet to the side of you. "It's not a night to be remembered, you know what I mean?" You laughed dryly and stupidly cast your gaze to the right, spotting Maverick and Penny with big grins on their faces. Fighting the scoff that threatened to leave your throat, you looked back to the bartender, your tired eyes following the clear liquid as it spilled from the glass bottle that was enveloped delicately by his slender fingers and into your glass of coke.

"Been there, done that, sweetie." He smiled back at you as he finished pouring your shots, sliding them towards you with his fingers, a soft sigh leaving his chest.

"Thanks." You said and quickly threw the two shots back with a grimace as the amber liquor burned down your throat. "Shit, what the hell was that?" You choked out through a cough, your hand coming up to cover your mouth as you fought to regain control of your lungs. The bartender let out an amused chuckle as he watched you, his hands reaching out to collect your empty shot glasses.

"That was three wise men," He answered with a smirk, making you frown at him. "Johnnie Walker, Jack Daniels and Jim Beam in one. Well, two, in your case." The bartender couldn't help the snort that escaped him and you groaned. God, you were definitely gonna feel the effects of that sooner than later.

"Well, I can say for sure that I'm not gonna remember tonight, so thank you." You joked, laughing.

"That's what I'm here for." He said with a kind smile. "I'm Alex by the way." Alex smiled at you, folding his arms against his chest.

"Y/N. Have a good night, Alex, I'm sure I'll be back later on." You said with a dry chuckle. Pursing your lips, you gave him a small smile before you wrapped your fingers around the cold, wet glass of vodka and coke in front of you, walking off in the direction of the squad who were currently creating a ruckus by the pool table.

"It's about time you joined us, Y/C/S," Phoenix grinned, leaning up from the pool table as the loud clack of pool balls echoed from her shot. "Where've you been?" She pried, narrowing her eyes at your blank face.

"Getting drunk." You answered simply, holding back a pitiful laugh. Phoenix eyed you suspiciously, her eyes quickly darting to the new bartender. You quickly put the pieces together and read her mind. "No! No, no, I was not chatting up the new bartender." You affirmed with a laugh, taking a big swig of your drink. Phoenix watched you, her eyes widening and brows twitching upwards in surprise at your unusual behaviour.

"Drunk? You never get drunk, Y/N." She said quietly, glancing between the tight grip you had on your glass and your tired eyes. You let out a small groan and glanced at Hangman and Coyote who were staring at the two of you from the pool table, curious about the conversation you were having with Phoenix. "You good?" She chuckled, a hint of concern evident in her voice.

"Yeah, I'm fine, I just don't want to remember tonight." You stated with a careless shrug, taking another long sip of your drink. The room started to look a little different - you were sure it was because of the alcohol. Phoenix stared at you, but she didn't dare tell you off, she knew that you could handle yourself and you never made mistakes. Well...

"Alright, we're here if you need us, you know you can always come to me if you need a talk, Y/N/N." Phoenix added, raising her hand to place it on your shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. A lazy smile worked it's way onto your face as you stared up at your friend, your teeth poking out from underneath your lips as it grew into a grin.

"I know, thanks Phoenix, now let's get fucked up." You giggled, your body feeling hot from the alcohol. An amused open-mouthed grin slipped onto Phoenix's face as she slung an arm around your shoulders, walking with you toward a confused Hangman and Coyote.

****

There were a few more drinks in you when a familiar voice perked up behind you.

"Hey, I haven't seen you at all tonight, Y/C/S," Maverick said from behind you with a concerned smile on his face. Admittedly, you had been avoiding him - mainly because it hurt you too much. You didn't want to keep seeing the image of him and Penny together in your mind every time you looked at him. "Are you avoiding me?" He joked, a toothy grin spreading across his cheeks. Being drunk, you interpreted his joke as a serious question.

"What- No!" You replied a little too quickly, earning a confused frown from the older pilot. Your heart started to hammer against your ribcage and you nibbled on your bottom lip - a nervous habit you developed when you were a small child. "No, I've just err, been with Phoenix and Bob most of the night." You quietly said, trying to control your lips so you didn't slur your words. Although, that was a lost cause.

"Are you drunk, sweetheart?" Maverick asked teasingly. He noticed the weird twang in your voice and his brows knitted together, an amused chuckle leaving his lips. You held back the groan that threatened to slip out, the use of the pet name making you go weak in the knees.

"Err, no..." You slurred, shaking your head vigorously, the strands of your hair dangling over your eyes. "Maybe.." You added quietly, looking away from the captain with an awkward, guilty look on your face. A lopsided smile picked at the corner of his mouth as he stared at you.

"Never thought I'd see the day." Maverick joked, raising the bottle of beer to his lips to take a sip. "What's the occasion?" He asked, swallowing the rest of his beer with a hiss.

"Just a bad night." You shrugged as an awkward laugh or hiccup escaped you. Maverick looked at you with a frown; concern painting his features. "It's nothing, really. I'd rather not get into it." You assured the captain, your heart twisting in your chest as a sea of sorrow took hold. Maverick didn't say anything, he only nodded slowly, his eyes still attached to you. He wasn't one to push someone about their problems, he had his own and he would rather them be willing to talk about it.

"I'm gonna go find Phoenix, we agreed to be toilet buddies tonight." You said, quickly standing up like you were desperate to rid yourself of this situation. Deep down, you were. You weren't sure how long you'd be able to handle this tonight. Maverick gave you another silent nod, pursing his lips as he smiled at you. Internally, you groaned - you've definitely ruined that, then.

With a quiet 'okay', you walked from Maverick with a shaky breath, eyes shooting up to search for Phoenix's figure. Throwing your hazy gaze around the bar, you found her stood at the bar with Rooster, his classic Hawaiian shirt hanging loosely on his body. Phoenix caught sight of you and poked her head above Rooster's tall shoulder, a bright smile reaching her lips.

You forced a smile onto your face as you looked back at her. "Hey!" Rooster noticed Phoenix's change in attention and he twisted his body around to where she was looking, his big, brown eyes falling onto your smaller body. A grin quickly spread across his cheeks, shining white teeth poking out.

"Y/C/S," Rooster chuckled, the corners of his eyes creasing out of happiness. "How-"

"Down for some shots? They're on me." You quickly said, avoiding his question. Quite obviously, you were not well equipped to answer that question - you were just about holding onto your tears and sobs with a thinning string. Rooster bit down on his bottom lip with a frown, glancing at his squad-mate, Phoenix. She stared at him and shook her head, silently telling him to go along with it.

"Uhh. Yeah, sure, Y/N." Rooster swallowed, feigning a happy smile. Deep down he was itching to know what had gotten into you - after all you were like his little sister, the two of you shared a lot of common interests. However, he would never dare to press you for information. The pilot knew how it felt. "What're you getting?"

"A mix of whiskies." You replied nonchalantly like it was the normal thing you'd order. "Alex said it's called Three Blind Men, or something like that." A frustrated sigh made your chest heave, and Rooster knew right then that something was definitely bothering you. As if Phoenix was psychic, she placed a firm hand on Rooster's arm to halt him from going any further. His head whipped around to face her as his wide eyes dipped into Phoenix's cautious brown ones, distress and concern evident on his worn features. In the background, he could hear you ordering for the three of you.

Reluctantly, Rooster clenched his jaw as he stepped back, staring at the carpeted floor. "It's for the best, Bradshaw." Phoenix muttered to him, making his worried brown eyes flick up to meet hers. He acknowledged Phoenix's words with a gentle nod, the helpless look on his face switching to a grin as you turned around, your hands adorned with shot glasses spilling over with alcohol.

"Let me know what you think of this." You grinned despite the harrowing empty feeling growing inside you. Rooster and Phoenix hesitantly accepted the shots, watching you throw back two- three in a row. Their mouths hung agape at your abnormal behaviour. "The burn really hits you at the end." You giggled, hissing through your teeth. Phoenix and Rooster cheers'd each other and repeated your previous action, swallowing the amber liquid with a cough.

"Jesus," Phoenix choked out, setting the glass down with a heavy thud. Rooster was coughing in an attempt to compose himself as he recovered from the heavy alcohol. "Have you been drinking this all night?!" She exclaimed, brows shooting up in shock like a bullet.

Your body suddenly felt wavy, and a wave of heat rushed over you. "Yep." You proudly hiccupped, a sloppy smile spreading across your face as you stared between the two pilots. Being drunk, you didn't notice their very concerned expressions, and mistook them for happy ones, so you threw two thumbs up in the air with an open-mouthed grin, wobbling on your feet.

"Hey, why don't we go sit down?" Rooster suggested, quickly walking over to grab you by the arms to lead you to the closest table. Phoenix swiftly followed. You grumbled at Rooster, your fingers flying to fumble against his strong grip on your arms.

"No, I don't wanna sit," You groaned and your lips pouted as you stared up at your friends, thudding down onto the booth's seat. "Rooster play Balls of Fire!" You suddenly exclaimed as you caught sight of the piano, your eyes lighting up like a Christmas tree. Phoenix had to bite back her laugh as she looked at your child-like expression - your eyes had widened like a fruit bat and your mouth was open in a joyful grin, your cheeks pinkening from either the excitement that was suddenly jolting through your body, or the alcohol you'd just consumed. She decided it was a mixture of the two.

"Rooster will play later on, Y/N, won't you?" Phoenix smiled, brushing a hand over your head in an attempt to soothe you. Rooster threw a confused look at his friend, but he quickly nodded in agreement, matching her happy tone.

"Yeah, and you can help me, don't worry, Y/N." He grinned down at you, despite the painful worry that was seeping into his chest. The man was worried about you - what the hell was making you drink so heavily? He knew you'd tell him when you were ready, but this was a little concerning.

As you stared up at your two squad-mates, your ears began to buzz and you felt your vision blurring as you zoned out, your mind soon painting a picture of the reason why you were acting so recklessly. The familiar mop of dark, brown hair sat atop tanned skinned appeared in your mind; the silhouette of a green aviator jacket suddenly materialising. Soon enough, Maverick had overtaken your brain.

"Y/N!" Rooster's stern voice ripped you from your daydream daze, your eyes twitching as you were brought back to the reality you'd began to hate. "You good?" He asked, his hand firmly grasping your shoulder. The happy grin that once claimed your face had melted away, and a subtle frown replaced it. Your eyes fell to the table as you thought back to the moment you saw Maverick and Penny hold hands at the bar.

"Yeah, yeah," You blinked, quickly throwing a convincing smile Rooster's way. "Can I be alone for a bit? I don't feel so good." You admitted, letting your head rest lazily against your hand. A groan left your throat as Rooster sighed - a sign of defeat.

"Sure, Y/N." He replied quietly, reluctantly walking away as he gave you one last look, the worried look on his face never leaving. Phoenix followed him and placed a supportive hand on his back, throwing you a sympathetic smile.

"Christ," You let your head fall onto the table with a gentle thud, the pain numbed by the amount of alcohol running through your system. "Can this get any worse?" You mumbled to yourself as you slowly raised your head, squinting your eyes at an approaching, blurry figure. A familiar one, at that...

"May I?" The voice asked as you closed your eyes, drunkenly humming in reply to it. A chuckle reached your ears and your body flinched at it, suddenly realising who the hell had come to see you.

"Mav...?" You quietly asked, praying to the heavens above that it wasn't.

"Yeah?" He answered. You felt your heart drop and your stomach knot together.

"Hi, Mav." You sat up, feeling slightly uneasy. Running a hand through your dishevelled hair, you swallowed thickly before meeting his amused eyes. Internally you cringed, you were mortified to have him see you like this - this was not the plan at all. "So, how are you and Penny?" You blurted out, a hint of jealousy sprinkled in your voice. Maverick's brow cocked up in curiosity.

"Me and Penny?" He repeated, obviously confused.

"Yeaaah," You slurred, clumsily staring at him. "I saw you and her hold hands earlier, aren't you a thing?" You stated with a huff, clearly effected by it. The captain frowned at your confrontational behaviour, wholly confused as to why you seemed so effected by what you had seen. To him, it was a friendly gesture - there were no romantic intentions behind it.

"I think you have it wrong, Y/N." Maverick smiled, trying to defuse the growing tense situation.

"No, I'm never wrong, especially with things.. like this.." You shrugged, tearing your gaze from his to have it land on the table you shared. "The two of you have history anyway, so it'd make sense, you know? You're pretty much perfect for each other, I don't know why you haven't made a move yet, Mav, you must be blind or something." You laughed as you rambled on, never once looking up at the man in front of you. It would hurt too much, and you definitely knew you wouldn't be able to handle the immense emotion that'd overcome you.

"Y/N, what's gotten into you?" Maverick asked quietly, his voice laced with worry.

"Nothing, it's nothing," You wrinkled your nose up as you felt a lump begin to form in the back of your throat. Swallowing, you picked up all the courage you could to look at Maverick. Boy, did you regret that. Almost instantly you felt your eyes burn with tears, and you rushed to bite down on your lip in a feeble attempt to stop them.

Maverick quickly noticed your brimming eyes and he sat forward, his once happy eyes softening into an obvious show of worry. "You can tell me anything, what's wrong, Y/N?" He softly said, a kind smile falling onto his lips. You squeezed your eyes shut as you looked down at the table, your heart bursting at the seams.

"No, I can't tell you this." You choked out, inhaling a sharp breath through your teeth as the tears - along with the alcohol - blurred your vision. "It's complicated." You added with a quiet sob.

"Y/N," Maverick gently said, making your stomach do flips. "Let me help, what is it?" The captain blinked at you, his eyes gazing into your own with a soft look on his face.

You went silent for a while, and inside of you, you were calculating all the possible outcomes if you told Maverick how you truly felt about him - how it tortured you to look at him and Penny like that. You would never wish that pain on anyone, even your worst enemy. That broke you. If you told him how you felt, it would change things forever, and you weren't sure if you could go through that immense pain again, you already knew how it would go. Then again, what were the chances if he felt the same way about you? Slim, probably. The tiny voice inside you was willing you to tell him, to just rip the band-aid off and do it. It would hurt less if you told Maverick - if he didn't feel the same way, fine. You could move on. But if he did...?

"Mav, the next thing I tell you..." You mumbled, voice slurring as you were unsure of how to navigate such a thing. "It's going to change everything bet-ween us." You said with a deep inhale, your vision going slightly blurry as you blinked. You didn't give him a chance to reply as you blurted out the thing you'd been keeping to yourself for so goddamn long. "I, err, I've fallen for you, Maverick, and I understand if you don't... feel the same..." You hiccupped, eyes rolling as you sat back in your seat, feeling the room begin to spin. You weren't sure if it was the alcohol or the anxiety bubbling in you currently.

Maverick was silent as he stared at you, slowly making sense of what you had just said. You had feelings for him? Unsure of what to do, Maverick chuckled awkwardly, his hand coming up to scratch at his jawline. "I think that's the alcohol talking, sweetheart." He said with a soft smile, trying to work out whether you were just drunk, or actually being serious.

"No, no it's not-" You shook your head vigorously at him, still not making eye contact with him as your cheeks were wet with tears. "It's true, I promise, I- it's true. I know how crazy it must sound to you." Maverick was staring at you with a small smile present on his lips. All this time, he was blind to what he truly wanted. You. As soon as he'd walked into the first briefing, you'd caught his eye. Maverick knew the age gap between you two was quite... significant in so many words. So, he never sought to act on his feelings, let alone tell you.

"No, actually it doesn't sound too crazy." Maverick replied slowly, tapping his nail on the beer bottle in his hand. You looked up at him with your glossy, reddened eyes as they widened with shock at what he had just said.

"You.. what?" You breathed out, feeling the like the room was closing in on you.

"I feel the same way, Y/N." Maverick couldn't help the signature toothy smile that slipped onto his lips as he stared at you. Despite your clearly dishevelled look, he still thought you looked absolutely beautiful, your beauty really did radiate from within, too. Everything about you was perfect to him. Everything.

"Are... are you sure?" You muttered, utterly shell-shocked at Maverick's reply. Where was the 'I'm sorry, Y/N, I don't feel the same' or the 'I think we're better off as friends'? This was not what you were bracing yourself for, and your surprised eyes showed that.

"Yes," Maverick laughed quietly at your response. He found amusement in your surprise as he watched you slowly sway from side to side in your seat, obviously still very intoxicated. "Why don't we get you home, sweetheart? I think a sleep would benefit you greatly." He laughed again, nodding at your drunken state. You groaned and nodded lazily, feeling your eyes beginning to close.

"Wait!" You suddenly perked up, the captain flinching in fright as he stood up to move toward you. "Can you stay with me? For tonight? Please?" You begged with a wide smile, your fingers flopping together in an sloppy attempt to make a praying gesture. Maverick sighed at you with a soppy smile on his lips, and he pretended to think about the offer, earning a whiny-groan from you.

"I guess someone will need to hold your hair back tonight." He teased with a smirk, holding out his hand for you to take. "C'mere." He mumbled as you took his hand to stand up, Maverick's other hand coming to settle on your waist to steady your wobbly self. The two of you were impossibly close and you felt your heart jump into your throat, a shiver running down your spine.

'Mhm' was the only thing you could muster up in reply to him as Maverick lead you out of the bar carefully and cautiously, his thumb gently caressing the side your waist to comfort you. How did you start the night by getting drunk and sad about this man, to ending it with him taking you home? You threw a quick glance over your shoulder at the squad who were currently staring at the two of you in shock -mainly Hangman and Rooster, who were sharing a look of open-mouth surprise. You grinned at them, giving them a small wave as Maverick opened the bar doors for you.

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