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sinnamonrolle · 3 years

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[ the little moments] ♡ Beelzebub

6 - That moment when you accompanied Beelzebub to the military.

✿ part of a series! ✿

❀ gender neutral reader ❀

Warnings: Mentions of blood

“I’m sorry,” Beel said. One of his hands patted your head in the form of a silent apology. “Our date got postponed because of the military summon… I really wanted to share Madam Devian’s new dessert with you.”

You smiled at him, catching his hand in yours and giving them a squeeze. You couldn’t deny that you also were excited to try out the new cake that Madam Devian released recently, but any time with Beel was time well spent. It didn’t matter whether you went to a bakery or the military, as long as you were with him.

“It’s alright. We can always go later,” you said. “But are you sure I can go in with you?”

Beel scowled at the fence gate in front of you two, its barbed wires separating you from the military encampment. He gently squeezed your hands back. “Don’t worry. They will let you in.”

From beyond the gate, way in the back, you saw a demon in a white military uniform rush out from a large building. His cap almost flew off from how quickly he arrived at the gate.

“General Beelzebub!” the demon greeted, saluting. He opened the gate, and you two stepped inside. “I have been awaiting your presence. I thank you for coming here on such short notice.”

“Don’t worry about it, Colonel Alastor,” Beel said, but you knew he was secretly a little upset about it. You could tell from the way his eyebrows were furrowed, the slightest bit of indentation appearing at the base of his forehead. “What do you need me for?”

“Of course, general, please follow me to the training grounds. I will explain on our way there,” Alastor said, but then his eyes fell on you, and he added on, “General, may I ask who your guest is? So that I may provide the correct identification tag.”

“My lover,” Beel said, his face straight. He didn’t even blink.

You almost choked at how naturally Beel spoke, as if he was simply ordering a meal at a restaurant, but it seemed you weren’t the only one surprised. You saw the shock settle on Alastor’s face before he quickly collected himself.

“I apologize, Your Grace. Please excuse my rudeness,” Alastor said to you, bowing deeply at the waist. “Please allow me to welcome Your Grace to the Royal Army.”

“Ah, thank you,” you said, feeling your cheeks warm up slightly. You were trying your best to not appear flustered, but perhaps your nervousness was leaking into your actions. Beel announcing that you were lovers made butterflies flutter at the bottom of your stomach—you even thought your heart might have skipped a beat. “Please, don’t worry about me. Just go ahead and do what you need to do. I’m just here to, uh, sightsee.”

Alastor smiled and closed the gate before leading you two to a field further down the path. It was a stone path, you noticed. After visiting almost every nook and cranny of the Devildom, you could conclude that Devildom didn’t have any concrete. The flooring was always wood, stone, brick, or marble.

You nudged Beel in the side. “You’re a general?” you whispered as you both followed Alastor. You knew demons had enhanced hearing, but you whispered anyway. It wasn’t anything that needed to be kept secret, but you felt that it was a bit embarrassing to ask a question that seemed to be common knowledge.

Beel didn’t seem to mind. “Lieutenant general to be exact,” he said. “I’m referred to as ‘general’ though. Diavolo is the actual five-star general. Although, I don’t know if I still count as one since I’ve been taking a break from the army ever since you’ve arrived in the Devildom.”

“If I may interrupt,” Alastor spoke up from the front. “I would say that General Beelzebub has all rights to keep his rank. Even if he has been away from the army for some time, he has been very helpful in leading us, especially with new recruits. They are always a willful bunch.”

“Is your new batch acting up?” Beel grumbled. “You just have to give them a good beating.”

Alastor sighed. “I would do exactly what the general advises if they weren’t children of nobility. As a demon of common blood, I’m afraid they will complain to their families and have them take my head.”

“Even though you are a colonel?” you asked, baffled. Even if Alastor wasn't a noble, this was the army. How could new soldiers affect the colonel? To this day, you still weren’t a hundred percent clear on demon hierarchy. Perhaps, after spending so much time with the brothers, you’ve become desensitized to it all.

“I may be a colonel to them, but to their families, I am a mere commoner,” Alastor replied with a chuckle, and then he stopped in front of a field. Since the Devildom was always dark, several round balls of light hovered in the air, lighting the field enough that you could barely see the faces of the recruits. They were spread all over the field, but it didn’t really look like they were training. “Alright. General, Your Grace, we have arrived at the training grounds. Your Grace, please take this visitor tag.”

Alastor handed you a clip-on tag with the word “VISITOR” printed neatly in bold letters. But before you could accept the tag, Beel took it from Alastor and carefully pinched it onto your clothing.

“They don’t have benches on the field,” Beel said, smoothing out your clothes. His purple eyes met yours. “Will you be okay standing nearby?”

You brushed his bangs away from his eyes and smiled at him. “I’ll be okay. Will you be okay though? Are you hungry?”

“I’m not hungry.” Beel brought you into his embrace, his arms wrapping around you. When you returned his hug, he brushed his lips against your cheek and murmured into your ear, his voice a low, soothing hum, “I have you here with me, after all.”

And then Beel was pulling away from you. You had half the mind to chase after his touch, but you held back, knowing that perhaps now wasn’t the best time.

“Hold my jacket, please?” Beel asked. When you held your hands out, he shedded his jacket and gave it to you, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Thanks, Pudding. I’ll be back soon. If anyone annoys you, just let me know. I’ll deal with them.”

“Okay.” As you followed Beel’s figure with your eyes, you pressed his jacket to your face, the traces of his remaining heat warming your face and the soft smell of laundry detergent filling your senses. With his back straight and his posture full of confidence, every inch of him was unyielding, commanding, demanding to be obeyed.

In that moment, you could see Beelzebub on a battlefield, blood darkening the streaks of his orange hair. A spear in hand, the silver of the blade dripping red and dampening the carmine tassel tied beneath the blade. Beelzebub tattered, tired, torn apart mentally—you could see it, you could see it all in your head because you knew he lived through a war before. You could see the blank look on his face, the agony tightening his throat, the truth of loss settling into his body—

“Your Grace,” Alastor said, his voice breaking you out of your reverie, “it may be safer if you stand over here against the wall.”

You broke away from Beel, who was now speaking with the recruits. Alastor stood slightly further away, off to the side next to a gray brick wall. Smiling, he waved you over.

Clutching Beel’s jacket closer to you, you hurriedly walked over to him. There was a slight embarrassment creeping up on you when you realized that Alastor probably saw you staring at Beel for who knows how long.

“I’m sorry,” you said, settling yourself against the wall when there was a respectable distance between you and Alastor. “I didn’t realize I was blocking the way.”

“Not at all, Your Grace.” Alastor laughed. For some reason, some of his mannerism reminded you of Barbatos. “Everyone knows that the new recruits are training today, so not many others will be around here. Since the recruits are allowed to use magic in their training, I am afraid that a stray spell might hit you if you stayed out in the open. If the noble families will have my head if their children complain about me, then General Beelzebub will ensure that I suffer for the rest of eternity if I allow you to get hurt.”

You hummed, hands fidgeting with the zipper of the jacket as you turned back to Beel, eyes adjusting to the dim lighting to find his silhouette. The balls of light were sparsely distributed across the entire field, emitting enough light that you could just barely make out the details. You supposed that the lights were just so that the demons weren’t training in complete darkness. Most demons have excellent night vision, after all. But for a human like you, you were glad the field wasn’t that big and that they weren’t that far out. Otherwise, you wouldn’t be able to see Beel tilting his head as he crossed his arm, the warm light whitening the orange strands of his hair.

“Maybe not for the rest of eternity,” you quipped with a smile, although there wasn’t much room to disagree.

There was something warm in hearing that Beel would raise hell to protect you. To know that there was someone out there that cared about you, someone that loved you, someone that considered you as family—a fluttery feeling coursed through your body, spreading out from your chest, and your heart was clenching in something that wasn’t pain but something similar enough that it hurt yet still felt so sweet.

“Your Grace is right. The general would destroy me instantly,” Alastor said, but you could hear the amusement in his voice.

It was then that you were able to clearly make out the voices on the field. You weren’t that far away in the first place, but when Beel first approached the recruits, you didn’t hear anything distinct at all.

“For honor?” Beel asked, his voice raising in disbelief. “What kind of honor could you be fighting for if you’re fighting in such a lackluster way? How honorable is it to fool around?”

“Fool around?” a demon scowled. He stood at the forefront of all the other soldiers who had gathered around Beel. On his chest was a rose crest, imprinted into his brown military uniform. “Do you think we are fooling around? Who are you to say that?”

Beel scoffed, shaking his head in disappointment. “Your footing is off. Too clumsy. You don’t put enough weight into your strikes, and your moves are too extravagant. Fighting with your body is not supposed to be flashy. This is the battlefield, where your lives are on the line, not some game where you show off. You don’t even have the basics down. Colonel Alastor is an excellent teacher and fighter. Haven’t you been listening to him?”

The demon with the rose crest growled, his hands bunching into fists at his sides. Another demon next to him crossed their arms and sneered.

“Are you mocking us? Why should we listen to a mere commoner?”

Next to you, Alastor sighed and rubbed at this forehead, seemingly more troubled than offended. You could see why. They were essentially spoiled brats who thought the worlds revolved around them.

The rest of the group also spoke up, their voices mixing into each other as they tried to announce their displeasure, but after listening for some time, Beel just simply raised a hand.

“Enough,” he said. Pure power, heavy and pulsing, rushed out from the word as it rumbled from his chest, the oppressive force pushing the recruits down. Some of them buckled under the pressure, while others tried their best to fight back against it, only to end up collapsing entirely. “This is the army. It doesn’t matter what family you’re from if you’re not strong enough.”

Even though you were farther away behind Beel, you still felt the residue power wash over you in waves. You shivered at the sensation, and the urge to make yourself appear smaller briefly crossed your mind. Out of the corner of your eye, Alastor shuddered but remained standing upright.

“Who are you to say that?!” a demon at the front gasped, a hand on their knee as they straightened themselves. “You’re not even wearing a military uniform or a tag! Do you even have the authority to be here?”

“That’s General Beezlebub to you.” Beel took a step forward and started stretching his arms, rotating them slowly. You knew him well enough to know that he was most definitely frowning from the tone of his voice, the ends of his lips curving downwards and his eyes narrowed, the dark purple glowing dangerously. “Although, from the sound of it, I doubt you would address me properly.”

“Beelzebub? I’ll have you know that I am the eldest son of the Duke of Rosales,” the demon huffed, smoothing out the rose crest on his chest, “and I have not heard of a Beelzebub from any noble family.”

Beelzebub snorted, switching to his other arm, and took another step forward. The recruits, despite their tough act, all took a collective step back.

“Son of Rosales,” Beel said, “since you’re so adamant about status, I’m sure you are well aware of those above you. Address me correctly then—it’s Prince Beelzebub, the Avatar of Gluttony.”

The son of Rosales gulped, his body stiffening against the warm lighting. In the silence following Beel's command, the whispered words—the non-sovereign prince, Beelzebub—hung loudly in the air.

This was a first for you. You’ve never really seen Beelzebub flaunt his status, nor have you really felt the weight of the ranking of prince until this moment, where the once prideful recruits were now cowering in part fear and part awe.

Pride blossomed in your chest. This was Beelzebub—your prince, your Beel, your lover.

“Why don’t you come and show me what it means to fight for honor?” Beel asked the demon with the rose crest. “I’ve never slacked off, not even after I took a break from the army. Every single day, I kept training because I knew why I was fighting. I fight to protect my family. Every moment of suffering will pay off in the form of my loved ones’ lives in the future.”

Beel readied himself, bringing both of his hands up close to his face, and said, “So, recruits. Show me your determination. In return, I will show you mine.”

The world faded around you as you watched Beel throw himself into fight after fight, often defeating the recruits within one or two moves. Despite appearing so burly, he possessed surprising agility. He seemed so limber as he evaded all of the punches and kicks thrown his way, almost like he was dancing.

The recruits that Beel struck down always made their way back up, like a switch had been turned on inside them. It must had been what he said earlier, the pure determination of his words inspiring the soldiers, as well as the natural instincts of a demon to respect the strong.

Beel turned around with a sweeping kick. You briefly saw his well defined abdomen as the shirt fluttered back into place. A dark tail aimed for his head, but he leaned backwards slightly to avoid it as it swept past, extremely close to brushing against the tip of his nose. As he did so, the white light warmed the outline of his body like a halo—illuminating.

Beelzebub was utterly enchanting—you couldn’t deny it at all. You didn’t want to, and you didn’t need to, because that was the truth, and the truth was all yours to appreciate. Watching him like this took your breath away.

A group of recruits jumped out of nowhere. They lunged at Beel’s back in a semicircular formation, their demon forms out, and you almost shouted out to warn Beel when, with barely a glance behind him, he slammed his foot into the ground. The force of it shattered the terrain into fragments. A wave of magic rushed out, colliding head-on with the soldiers, and it swept them away in a heap of tangled limbs. The recruits groaned in pain.

The residue of the magic electrified the air, crackling along the broken edges of the ground. You felt it sparking against your arms, the sensation of his magic a familiar feeling to you, yet it never failed to give you goosebumps.

“The battlefield doesn’t tolerate failure,” Beel said, swinging an arm behind him just in time to elbow a recruit right in the middle of their chest, knocking the breath out of them. “Failure means death.”

Perhaps you were too captivated by the sight of Beel displaying his prowess, but it was only when Alastor called out did you realize that a particularly huge but unstable spell was coming straight at you.

“Your Grace!”

You knew better. You really did. You didn’t survive this long in the Devildom for nothing. You had your fair share of experience in surviving dangerous spells, at closer distances than this, but as you watched the roaring flames come at you, you could only stay frozen in place, hands clutching Beel's jacket in your hands.

Vaguely, you heard Beel shout your name—the sound echoing in the air, echoing around you, echoing in your mind, matching the increasing tempo of your heart—then everything went dark.

The faint smell of leather and something that you instinctively recognized as belonging to Beel filled your nose. Strong arms wrapped around you, the embrace familiar yet also somewhat strange, and with a low buzzing sound in your ears, you also heard—no, you felt the desperate heartbeat.

Beelzebub.

Beel held you to him, so tightly to the point that you were crushed, your body completely melding with his. One of his hands cradled the back of your head, pressing you into him, and the other clasped your waist.

Beel was shaking.

Even though he was the one holding onto you, like you would disappear if he didn’t hold onto you hard enough, his body was trembling—in fear. Fear of you getting hurt, fear of losing you, fear of not being quick enough, of not being strong enough, of not being decisive enough to protect his family yet again. The debilitating terror that often accompanied his nightmares—you were all too familiar with it.

So you wrapped your arms around him, feeling the unsteady, nervous flapping of his wings, now understanding why you felt leather instead of skin, and you squeezed him back.

I’m okay. I’m okay. I’m okay.

You gathered all the feelings bunched up in your chest and sent them through your pact bond, hoping he could feel that you were absolutely safe and unharmed. He shielded you, after all. From the ebbing magic on his body, you could tell that he teleported over to you. That was how he made it on time.

Beelzebub. I love you. I love you so much.

Beel slowly pulled back, his eyes a chaotic mixture of purple and magenta, and you noticed that he had indeed transformed into his demon form. But before you could say anything, he started running his hands all over you. Gentle but hurried fingers traced your face, down your throat, around your torso, all the way down to your feet. He inspected every part of you in a desperate frenzy.

“Beel,” you said, cupping his cheeks. “I’m safe. I didn’t even feel the heat. But are you hurt anywhere?”

Beel shook his head and went back to checking your body, but you patted his face, huffing. He stopped almost reluctantly, eyes meeting yours once again.

“I’m not hurt,” Beel said. “Alastor casted a barrier just in time.”

Something silver shimmered in the air behind Beel, barely noticeable unless you knew what to look for. Gratefulness flooded you. Beel might have thought it was fine to protect you with his body, but you didn’t want him to get hurt at all. If you had just reacted fast enough earlier… then Beel didn’t have to throw himself in front of you, and Alastor didn’t have to cover for you.

After the gratefulness came the guilt.

“You’re really not hurt anywhere?” Beel asked, but his eyes were already searching your body for any potential injuries. “Really, really?”

“Really, really,” you answered. “I’m really okay. I’m sorry though… I don’t know what came over me. I saw the spell coming at me, but I didn’t move at all. And I had to disrupt your training session because of it. I’m sorry.”

Beel visibly relaxed at your reassurance, his body no longer tensed up like before. “No, Pudding. Don’t be sorry. It wasn’t your fault. I will stop everything to protect you,” he said, kissing your forehead.

Your mouth opened, cheeks warming as you tried to respond appropriately, but then, Beel blinked like he remembered something. He stepped away from you, his eyes narrowed dangerously, and turned to the recruits who had all stayed silent earlier.

“Who casted that spell?” Beel asked, a frigid aura surrounding him. You bet the recruits were in for a world of pain.

No one responded. The recruits remained in their positions, not daring to move.

Beel clicked his tongue. “Don’t make me repeat myself again. Who. Casted. That. Spell?”

When no one spoke, Beel didn’t bother again. He came back to your side and wrapped an arm around your waist, tucking you into his side as he reverted back to his human form.

“Colonel Alastor, increase the daily training by three. Send me a list of all recruits here today. I will be back at a later time to properly train them,” Beel said.

Colonel Alastor saluted. “Yes, general!”

Beel nodded and headed for the gate. You glanced at the recruits still frozen in place and Alastor who waved at you with a smile. You nudged Beel in the side.

“Are we leaving already?” you asked.

“Yeah,” he said, taking his jacket from you. “Thanks for holding my jacket, Pudding. Let’s go get some food. I’m starving.”

You tilted your head, raising an eyebrow in surprise. “Are we resuming our date? After what had just happened?”

“They’re not important,” Beel said, and then he smiled at you, peppering kisses all over your face. “Let’s go back to our date.”

“Alright, alright,” you laughed, covering his mouth. “Let’s go.”

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Masterlist!

Ahh, I don't know if this is good enough :( but I hope you enjoy it!

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limitlessgojo · 3 years

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Blood Bound: Red Strings of Fate (Ch 5)

Warnings: Action, Coarse Language, Fighting, Descriptions of Blood

Previous Chapter: Cherry Blossom Storm

Next Chapter: Speed of Sound

Tags: Soulmates AU, Angst, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Fem!Reader

Taglist: @lessie-oxj, @rizzo-nero, @whoreuc, @fkngkumiko, @isl3t

Notes: If you want to be tagged for every update, please mention it in the comments below ty <3

Chapter 5: Special Grade

After you bid goodbye to the two girls, you went off back to your dorm room to get dinner, when you bumped into the girl who lived next to your room.

“Oh hi!” She greeted you with a big smile. “I’m Miwa Kasumi, you can call me Miwa. 1st year here! Please take care of me.”

“Hello! I’m Tsuchimikado Y/n, you can call me either Tsuchi or y/n I really don’t mind either way. Also my first year here, please take care of me!” you grinned.

“Ahhh, I’m so nervous to start class here. Are you ready for it?”

“To be honest I’m also nervous, but pretty excited! Ah, I have to go eat dinner now and call my family, but tomorrow I’m free to chat more. You can come over to my room if you’d like.” You offered.

She agreed and bid you goodnight.

◇◇◇

You were able to get to know Miwa before classes began, and it was really fun getting to know her. She talked about her brothers and her origins, but admitted that she couldn’t give out too many details on her technique.

“I’m sorry y/n but I was told to keep it a secret. Even among other jujutsu shi. And I’m just doing all I can to support my brothers.” She sadly spoke.

To which you didn’t mind too much, as you were the same. The Tsuchimikado does its best to keep their strongest techniques and passed down family legends under wraps, to prevent themselves from being targeted by curse users.

“It’s no worry at all, you don’t have to share anything you don’t want to share. And I won’t pry. I come from a minor Jujutsu clan and understand the need to keep cursed technique details a secret.” You smiled and offered her more biscuits.

If you don’t stand out, you would have less affairs to worry about. Unlike the great 3 Jujutsu clans. And because of this, you sort of grew up in a regular loving home, with the exception of normalcy brought by the need to kill curses.

◇◇◇

Classes soon started after and honestly they were not too bad. You all got your student ID cards on the very first day.

You were surprised to see that you were awarded a Special Grade title on the very first day… not what you expected. The rest were, as expected, Grade 4 jujutsu sorcerers.

Everyone starts on the same level and can have their ranks increased as they go. They can get recommended to Grade 2 and/or Grade 1 based on their performance.

Geniuses were said to start as a Grade 2 sorcerer in their first year. Grade 3 was average for a jujutsu high student. And a special grade is an anomaly.

You were pretty sure that you and your family kept your condition under wraps and yet… You looked up to Utahime and asked if you could have a chat outside. She eyed you knowingly and the others stared at you as you left the room.

“Uhhh… There seems to be a mistake with this. I don’t think I am fit to be a Special Grade yet Utahime sensei.” you explained to her truthfully.

“Tsuchimikado chan. You are from a minor Jujutsu clan, that's true. And while it is very rare for an esper to be born in your clan, there was a higher up who was in touch with your father. They received enough information about your technique, albeit not all of it of course, and cursed energy levels, deeming you to be a special grade.”

You just stared at her in shock at all this info. Sure you’ve been sparring with your cousins, and yeah nobody could come close to you when you had mastered your basic barriers and cursed technique. But you didn’t expect to get this far.

Then Utahime sighed, “Okay I’ll be honest. There was one other person who actually pushed for this and was surprisingly agreed to by the elders.”

You felt yourself tense up, “Who?”

“Gojo Satoru said you were capable of dealing a massive destruction over a large scaled area. And of course, the jujutsu higher ups are aware as to what happened to you when you were 6 years old.”

“Satoru nii!” You paled, blood draining out of your face, but before you could open your mouth Utahime consoled you. “It’s okay. It’s kept top secret… well as much as a secret can be amongst the Jujutsu school leaders and higher ups. Don’t worry, we understand your situation.”

You just nodded, still as white as a sheet. ‘They know, oh gosh of course they know!’ you thought with horror.

“Okay, now nobody should give you any trouble. Just relax, you’re not forced to give out any info to the other students if you don’t want to. It’s okay,” She pushed you back into the classroom where the other students were chatting.

“Haiiii, let’s start class now.” Utahime called out to which you all responded with a “Yes sensei.”

◇◇◇

Everything started to calm down and settle at school for you after that day.

Most of your time was spent in the classroom with regular subjects. But then you’d have the added physical training and cursed energy management with Utahime sensei, which you always looked forward to the most.

“Okay, time to form pairs now. Mai and Y/n. Miwa and Mechamaru, try to disarm and pin down your opponent if you can. Y/n go easy on the others.” Utahime sensei spoke, to which of course you agreed to.

Amongst the first years, both you and Mechamaru seemed to be the most capable, proficient even with long range techniques.

Mai and Miwa were weak in close combat quarters when they were disarmed. And it was too easy for you to disarm them with minimal cursed energy, as you spent a lot of time sparring with your older male cousins.

“Hup!” You closed in on Mai and kicked the gun from her grasp before flipping her body and pinning her to the ground. Mixed martial arts definitely comes in handy.

“Ouch, she said to go easy on me Y/n. You’re still pretty rough.” Mai spat out. “Get strong now or you won’t last on the battlefield. You have to focus on surviving.” You darkly said. Mai was shocked at that since you were always so bright and cheerful.

But everyone else noticed that whenever you were training, (whether it be by yourself in your free time or sparring with the others during class) you seemed like an entirely different person. Cold, calculating, detached, strong and fierce.

But of course, you always did your best to help them improve. “Mai, you’re moving your body wrong. Stabilise your footing, then aim. If I come close to you from the side, try to hit me based on your peripheral vision quicker.”

Truth be told, she improved. “Thank you y/n. You seem familiar with martial arts. Do you do any?” She asked you during break time.

Mechamaru and Miwa listened in, facing you curiously. The entire school is now aware of your Special Grade status, but everyone was still shy to outright ask you about the full details of how it was granted.

“I do. I’ve grown up sparring with my older male cousins all the time. Mixed martial arts, Brazilian Jiu Jitsu, and Krav Maga. Not sure if you guys know of Tsuchimikado Hiroki? Graduated from Kyoto Jujutsu high a few years back.”

“I’ve heard of his name in passing, but I don’t know of him. Your clan is kept pretty well under wraps after all.” Mai said. You smiled and nodded.

You were set to spar with Mechamaru after the break. This is where it got interesting. You activated your technique for the first time since training started as he shot laser beams at you.

He did everything he could, but even with his sword options, and strongest bursts of cursed energy, nothing hit you while you stood in the same spot.

You had activated your cursed technique, and made the space around you warp, making the attacks bounce off. Mechamaru had pretty solid power, but it wasn’t enough to rock you.

You held out one hand, “Enhanced gravity: Output level 5%” and Mechamaru’s body crumpled against the ground. You increased the air pressure above his body until he shouted, “Give!”.

You released your technique and thanked him for the fight. Mai and Miwa had stopped sparring to watch the both of you.

“Wow.” Miwa said with sparkling eyes. “No wonder… she’s special grade.” she whispered.

To be honest, at the end of the day labels and rankings meant NOTHING to you. You wanted all your allies to get as strong as they can be, so that they won’t suffer during missions.

Which is why you openly offered advice and help when they needed it. You’ve had enough of loss.

◇◇◇

When you had your free time you made your way to the library as was planned. You had a list of topics to burn through. Past lives, shared visions, alternate worlds, future visions… and the topic of soulmates. You had to get to the bottom of whatever happened between Noritoshi senpai and you.

The Tsuchimikado clan did have its history and legends as well. You had information on the other big 3 clans and their techniques. Along with that information came the basic legends of old. Soulmates, possibilities of inherited memories, parallel worlds, and some of the most evil of curses to exist. (Such as Ryomen Sukuna).

But you were sad to see that there was a lack of books on soulmates. Only some left on alternate and Parallel Worlds. 'Is the library lacking??? Didn't expect that.' You thought sadly.

You asked the librarian about it but, "I'm sorry my dear, we only have what's there on the shelves. There's a possibility the books have been borrowed. I can check the database for you."

"Yes please, thank you so much."

"Ah yes….. Kamo kun has taken some books on soulmates, parallel worlds, foresight and Abe no Seimei. Are those any of what you're looking for?" She asked.

You felt yourself pause. Okay so you were both thinking along the same lines. Not surprising.

"Yes, I can just wait for him to return it or ask him about it then. Thank you so much that was a great help!" You bid her your goodbyes and left the library.

Not to worry, you were going to see him real soon.

Author's notes: These first few chapters focus heavily on world building to set the pace for the story. You'll see a lot more of Nori in the following chapters <3

Blood Bound: Table of Contents

#kamo noritoshi #kamo noritoshi x you #jjk kamo #jujutsu kaisen fanfics #jjk imagines #noritoshi x reader #noritoshi fluff #noritoshi x y/n #miwa kasumi #mechamaru #zenin mai #jujutsu kaisen x reader #blood bound #red strings of fate

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rhysismydaddy · 4 years

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Unholy Matrimony Pt. 1 (Nessian)

Nesta’s part of the Damnation Series.

OOF this took so long sorry. I rewrote it, changed it, then deleted it entirely about 9 times. I literally started writing the version before you, from scratch, on Sunday. All parts are linked below, so I’m only tagging people on this version! To go to the next chapter, there is also a link at the bottom <3

ALSO, an important caviat: Nesta is an only child in this one! I originally wrote it for her to be adopted and not know it, but it wasn’t really relevant to the story, so... idk. Just ignore that plot hole I guess.

Parts 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 -- pls like each part I’m insecure

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~Cassian~

“You’re getting married.”

The glass of bourbon halfway to my mouth pauses, because despite being known for being rash and unpredictable, even I’m surprised by the sudden change in conversation.

My eyebrows raise as I look over at Rhysand, my best friend and Capo, trying to figure out if this bastard is serious. His tone says he is, but that doesn’t make sense, because before a few seconds ago, the word “marriage” was in neither of our vocabularies.

He’s been single for as long as I have, although I’m starting to suspect he’s got a bird in the city. He’s too damn happy these days, and the other day I saw him laugh at something on his phone.

Which is weird, because we both know long-term commitments don’t really do well with our lifestyle.

We were raised to not give a shit about anything except the job. We kill without remorse, live in the shadows, and whatever other shitty euphemism you want to use. Settling down in some suburban, picket-fence prison has absolutely no appeal to Made Men.

Don’t get me wrong, most of us get married at some point. But never for love.

Some men choose a bride that’s pretty and sweet. Someone who will donate to charity and help clean up their image. Governors’ daughters, women from old-money families, and social princesses make up this category.

Some men marry to advance their station in the Family. Second sons who will never inherit the business marry daughters of Underbosses to get a nice boost to their status.

And then there’s the ones who are forced to marry by their capo--ie. me-- so they choose whatever attractive woman that’s in the Family and available. Those are always the happiest.

But regardless of the reasoning, marriage in the mafia is heartless, political, and for me, unnecessary.

I know I’ll have to pick someone eventually, but there aren’t a whole lot of desirable options at the moment. Not many of the other Underbosses have daughters that are over the age of fifteen right now, and I have no interest in doing the child-bride thing.

Plus, there’s no way I’d marry someone outside of the family. At my rank, it isn’t an option.

That leaves... a widow?

The only one I know is Ianthe, and considering I highly suspect she killed her last husband and the fact that she’s crazy, there’s no way in hell I’d legally bind myself to her for life.

So he must be joking.

I take a pull from my cigar and look over at Rhys with narrowed eyes. “Uh huh. Sure. To who, exactly?”

“Volchonok.”

The Wolf Cub.

The cigar snaps in my fingers.

“You’re fucking kidding,” I say, honestly hoping that’s the case. He’s either that or insane, and I’d hate to lock someone who’s like a brother to me in a padded room.

Rhysand’s unflinching gaze doesn’t change, but his tone morphs from that of my friend to my boss. “You will marry her, Cassian.”

“She’s a fucking Russian,” I spit, not understanding. That should be reason enough for him to be joking.

In our world, being Russian is a crime similar to stabbing the Pope.

We’ve been at war over New York with them ever since they decided to try and get a stronghold on the east coast, and I’ve killed more of them than I can fucking count. Now I’m marrying one?

“Yes, she is, and so is her father, Alexei Olov.” Aka the Bratva Boss responsible for blowing up half of St. Petersburg last year when the local police refused to buy his weapons. “You will marry her, move to New York full time, and run the city with her by your side.”

“Why? Two or three more years, and we’ll have the city anyway.” Every day the Russians get weaker, and I’ve been responsible for pushing them out of my city block by block.

So there has to be a reason we’re suddenly okay with the enemy.

Rhysand sighs. “It was his idea, not mine. Orlov has agreed to sell our coke in Moscow and Seattle instead of his usual dealer and will supply us all the weapons we need for five years. There will also be no more midnight raids, bullshit arrests on bullshit charges, or missing shipments. He’s offering you a dowry, too.”

I don’t need his money, but the old fashioned term makes me laugh.

“Yeah? And how much does he think his wolf cub is worth?”

His lips twitch. “Ten million.”

“She must be a real pain in the ass, then, if he’s going to pay me that much to take her,” I chuckle.

Not that ten million dollars is anything but pocket change for the man. Orlov may be losing the fight in New York, but the bastard is richer than sin.

Selling arms to half of the entire world will do that to a person.

“I hear she’s beautiful,” he says, trying to tempt me to not fight him.

“Then you marry her,” I shoot back, not ready to give up the argument.

“I don’t feel like it.” Fucking typical. Rhysand sighs. “You and I both know we can work this deal to our advantage, so what will make you say yes?”

He could order to me to say yes and I’d have to, but he hates enforcing that kind of authority with me.

So I think it over, make a show of lighting a new cigar. “I want Sera.”

It’s a burlesque club in New York I’ve always been a little envious of, owned by Orlov and operated by his men. I’d tried to buy it a few years back but hadn’t had enough leverage on the Russian to strongarm him into selling.

Now I do.

Rhysand--the only one who knows about my failed attempt to buy the place--nods and tells me he’ll make it happen.

“When’s all this happening, anyway?”

He looks like he might laugh. “Wedding is in a month, but she’s flying in tomorrow night.”

A quick laugh forces its way out of me. Also typical of him to give me absolutely no time to change my mind.

Well, I have a month. That’s already longer than any relationship I’ve ever had.

Sighing, I stand and shake his hand, cementing the deal before I can even lament the loss of my bachelorhood.

~Nesta~

“Chto sluchilos?”

I slide my gaze to my father, because seriously, that’s the stupidest fucking question I’ve ever heard.

What’s wrong? What’s wrong? Everything.

“Nichego,” I lie, assuring him for what feels like the tenth time as I look out the window. The plane picks up speed and lifts off, taking me towards an uncertain future, an uncertain place.

I might have told him nothing’s wrong, but inside, I’m screaming.

Three days ago, I woke up to find a marriage contract on the pillow beside me. There was a blank space where my name had been typed and a pen waiting for me to remedy that.

I still haven’t.

I’m not signing anything until I meet this... Cassian.

God, what an Italian name.

An image springs to mind, one of a slumped-over, hairy-chest beast with slicked back hair and a gold chain.

I know it’s stereotypical and hopefully incorrect, but I’ve never been to Italy and Alexei strictly forbids me watching movies that portray Italians as anything except revolting.

But looks aside, there’s one thing I don’t need to guess to know.

My future husband will be like all the other men in my life: controlling.

Men in the world I live in take what they want, don’t ask for permission, and feel like they’re entitled to anything and everything. I’ve dealt with it my entire life, so it’s more amusing than anything at this point.

I guess I’m a bit non-traditional in that sense, considering most of the women around me have no problems taking orders from their fathers or husbands. But Alexei and I figured out pretty early in life that wasn’t going to work for me.

As he frequently likes to tell me, I started telling him to fuck off when I was five.

What did he expect? All the kids I hung out with were the opposite sex and at least five years older than me, so my vocabulary and mannerisms became pretty... colorful early on.

Regardless, I’m just not looking forward to having to deal with yet another man who thinks he can control me.

“Ty vresh',” Alexei accuses, lips twitching. You’re lying.

“Konechno.” Of course.

Of course I’m upset, but I understand what’s happening. I might have found out about it three days ago, but I’ve known it was coming for far longer.

As the only child of the great Alexei Orlov, Wolf of Moscow and Pakhan of the Russian Bratva, I’ve been told my entire life that I will one day be used as a pawn to gain more power.

It would--should--piss me off, but I’ve also been told I’m to one day take my father’s place and run his company.

So by gaining more power for him, I’m also doing the same for myself.

Not that I really give a shit about that kind of thing. I started officially working for Alexei years ago, and I already have enough money saved to never have to work again.

But in the Bratva, there’s no getting out. I was put in this world by birth, and the only thing that will take me out is death.

In case it isn’t obvious, I’m not a typical business woman.

My father is an arms-dealer.

A less than legal one, if you believe the heinous lies the media spreads about him.

He sells weapons to governments, private armies, and whoever the fuck else has the money to buy.

He’s also built himself a shipping empire to haul said weapons around the globe, runs the drugs and prostitute rings in Moscow, and has enough real estate to rival most small countries.

It probably sounds like I don’t care, and that’s because I don’t.

I like what I do in the sense that I have a mind for business. I went to business school and graduated at the top of my class, and I enjoy running the clubs and hotels I have. Trained by Alexei himself, I’m ruthless in negotiations, enough so that people started calling me the Wolf Cub by the time I was twenty.

But despite being good at it, I’m not particularly fond of the aspect most people think of when they picture my career in the Bratva. I detest drugs, have never hired a prostitute, and don’t really enjoy selling arms to bad people.

The alleyway meetups, the broken bones and bullet holes, and the blown up houses are all a little tiring to me.

Sure, it sounds exciting. And for a while, it was. I used to lose myself in the chaos, used to enjoy coming home with busted knuckles. But I honestly just got tired of it.

Right now, I don’t have to deal with it as much because Alexei’s still alive. But when he dies and I officially take over the family business, I’ll have to be more involved. Even if the thought makes me want to sigh.

I pull out my laptop and look over the financial report for Sera, my newest club in New York. As predicted, everything’s running smoothly.

I turn the laptop around to show my father, grinning when he pulls out his reading glasses and leans closer.

“Starik,” I tease. Old man.

He flicks my forehead, then reads the report and nods. Then he turns to his phone, probably playing Angry Birds or some shit, and leaves me to work.

The plane ride goes by quickly, and by the time we’ve landed in Chicago, I’ve gotten ahead on my schedule for next week, slept, and changed into what I’ve chosen as the “meeting my future husband” dress.

It’s simple and sleek, the black material clinging to my curves without being obscene. It’s long enough to hide the holster on my thigh, not that I feel in any danger with four personal guards stationed near me at all times.

My heels click as I make my way down the plane stairs and across the tarmac to the waiting sedan, and once my luggage and belongings are unloaded, we head to the Italian Capo’s house.

We’re meeting here, finalizing the contract, and then Cassian and I are flying to New York.

My new home.

“Try to look happy,” Alexei tells me, his heavily accented English almost ridiculous to hear. He speaks English only when he’s in the states, and considering he hasn’t come here since I graduated B school two years ago, he’s a little out of practice.

“I’m ecstatic,” I say, intentionally using a word I know he doesn’t understand.

His eyes narrow, because it isn’t the first time I’ve used this trick, but he doesn’t call me out on it. We continue to ride in ecstatic silence, eventually pulling up in front of the Capo’s... house.

It’s almost obscene to call it that, considering it’s fucking huge. Like obnoxiously huge.

I heave a sigh, step out of the car, and take in my surroundings. The neighborhood’s quiet, likely filled with friends of the Cosa Nostra too scared to make any noise.

A butler--seriously, a butler--opens the door and welcomes us inside, and as soon as I step in, I have to repress the urge to roll my eyes.

The amount of dirty money in the air is suffocating. It drips off the vaulted ceilings, down the artwork on the walls, across the marble floors. It’s in the little details of the crystal chandeliers and the mahogany staircase.

Ridiculous.

One look at Alexei’s disgusted face says he’s thinking the same thing.

Don’t get me wrong, we’re rich. Grossly so. Alexei could have ten houses just like this, if he wanted them.

But he doesn’t. He owns property all over the world, but most of it is commercial or apartment complexes--property that makes him money, in other words. This, however, is a massive waste of capital.

The butler leads us further through the house and into an office where four men wait.

One is immediately identifiable as their lawyer, his over-priced cologne making me have to resist the urge to sneeze. The humongous man in the corner is hired muscle, if the boxy shape of the guns under his jacket is any indication.

The man behind the desk is obviously in charge, so I’m guessing he’s the Capo. Rhysand or Rhyland or something weird like that. He takes me in silently, bright eyes not seeming to miss any details.

That leaves the man leaning against the desk to be Cassian Azara.

My fiancé.

Our eyes meet, his golden gaze beautiful and wild, and I have to remember to keep my expression bored.

Because the stereotype, the horrible image I’d conjured up in my mind, couldn’t be further from the truth.

For one, he isn’t hunched-over. He stands tall, leaning a hip against his Capo’s desk with obvious confidence. But I see more than just self-assuredness in his eyes. He seems a little too rough around the edges, wild gaze almost like he’s daring someone to swing at him.

If the confidence didn’t already make him attractive, his looks sure as hell get the job done.

His hairs long and dark and curly, half of it pulled up in a rouge manner that clashes with the suit he’s filling. He has a few days’ stubble, too, like standing still long enough to shave just isn’t an option.

His shoulders are impossibly wide, narrowing down to trim hips and legs long enough to make him tower over everyone in the room.

His knuckles are tattooed and split open, and there’s a cut above his eyebrow that tells me I was correct to assume he’s a fighter by nature.

Usually, that would be a deterrent for me, but there’s something about the way he’s dressed in a dark suit jacket and crisp white shirt while also looking so untamed that has me cocking my head to study him some more.

He studies me, too, beautiful eyes taking in the long blonde hair and bright blue eyes offset by pale skin. He looks at the dress like he can see everything underneath, and I have the strangest urge to blush. Jesus, he’s toxic.

He’s attractive, is what I’m getting at.

Which is not what I had planned on, considering I’d been trying to think of a plan on how to not sleep with him, but suddenly that’s all my mind can focus on.

His lips twitch like he knows what I’m thinking, and I realize we’ve just been standing here staring at each other for a bit too long.

So I turn back to Alexei and shrug like I’ve seen what my future husband has to offer and aren’t impressed in the slightest.

I toss the marriage contract on the desk, grab the Capo’s fancy little fountain pen out of his hand, and sign my name on the blank above my name.

Cassian watches, but I ignore him entirely until the ink has dried. Then I look up at him through my lashes and wink, turn on my heel, and leave the room.

~Cassian~

I think I’m in love.

Fuck.

She hasn’t said a single goddamn word, but the way she looked at me has me feeling itchy all over, anticipation and nerves rolling through me. I feel like I feel before I fight or something exciting happens.

Like I’m primed and ready and need it to happen now.

Nesta Orlov, my bride to be, is nothing like I expected.

I was fully braced for some meek little woman, similar to most of my friends’ wives, to come in and smile and say hello.

But nope. Nesta didn’t smile; she came in like she was walking onto a battlefield.

And she didn’t smile. She looked me over, clinical blue gaze noticing too much, and left me feeling winded. God, she’s beautiful. Just looking at her made me hot.

She also didn’t say hello.

Just signed the contract and left, like this was nothing more to her than a boring business deal. I mean, that’s what it is, but... I don’t know, I expected more of a reaction.

I’ve heard from some Underbosses that their wives cried or raged when they were forced to sign, but shit if that were the case with Nesta. She honest to God looked like she didn’t care.

Alexei, on the other hand, does look a little pissed about the situation, but I couldn’t care less of the old man’s opinion. He’s signed the contract, so to me, he’s irrelevant. Regardless, he and Rhys proceed to iron out some of the details about the wedding and other shit I’m not paying attention to.

Then they shake hands, and the Russian warlord turns to leave.

He reaches the door and looks over his shoulder at me, and there’s amusement in his cold gaze as he mutters, “Udachi.” Good luck.

As soon as he’s gone, Roman and the lawyer follow, leaving me alone with Rhys.

He slides the contract to me, and I sign my name next to hers, making this shit official.

“This should be interesting,” he comments, vague as usual.

I sigh, because I have a feeling interesting isn’t going to cover it.

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NEXT CHAPTER

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foodieforthoughts · 4 years

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Sand and Stars - Chapter One

Series Summary: After the water pump being blown up, the insurgents in Baqubah are taking a hold of the food supply to the village. Camp Warhorse is in dire need of reinforcements. It has been eight months of submitting countless requests when the High Command commissions Sergeant Olivia Ross to take her group of men and women and help Captain Syverson and his team to restore a semblance of normalcy. But with the war raging, does it get two hearts closer too?

Pairing: Syverson x OFC x OMC

Word Count: 1750

Warnings: 18+, foul language, some ogling, smut in future chapters

A/N: Thank you again to @thelastsock for being my beta. Written from Sy’s perspective and since I am a woman, venturing in the (not) so complex mind of a man. Enjoy!

<Prologue

Title: Chapter One

Syverson watched as everyone in the camp looked at the two Humvees entering through the gates inside the compound. The chopper came flying behind them, hovering over the area they had prepared for it to land.

With arms crossed over his chest, his signature sunglasses covering his eyes, he looked at the chopper, it’s skids gently being placed on the ground. The blast of air from it’s whirring blades, blew dust and sand for which he shielded his face with his hand. The group of soldiers alighted from their vehicles, their smoother than milk skin making Sy snort. Here they were, his Special Forces guys all scruffy and rough, whereas these new arrivals looked like school kids for a photo op.

When the chopper blades stopped spinning, and the pilots hopped down from their cockpit along with the others; Sy walked up to them. He watched as the main pilot spoke to the unit and pulled off their helmet. The swagger of his walk faltered a step when he noticed her lustrous red hair tied in a bun. It was not very often that lady soldiers came down to a warzone like this.

Instinctively, when he saw she was a woman, his eyes travelled to her bottom. Even with the armored vest and her fatigues, the beautiful curve of her body was highlighted when she bent down to lift her bag. She turned to speak to the other pilot, allowing Sy to finally look at her face. Big brown eyes framed by thick eyelashes were set on her heart-shaped face. Her high cheekbones were freckled, spreading to her nose, and her lips looked full and plump.

It was inconsiderate of the Captain to check out a woman in the middle of a raging war, but he had been high and dry for nearly a year. A man has his needs.

“Captain Syverson, sir?” The other pilot addressed him, he was a young man with the signature crew-cut hair and clean shaved like a boiled egg. His duffel bag laid heavily on his shoulder as he clasped the straps with one hand.

“All day,” Sy said, taking off his sunglasses and hooking it at the back of his t-shirt. “Are you Sergeant Ross?”

Sy’s eyes darted to the approaching men and women when he noticed her walking up to them. Soldier from before brought his hand for a handshake towards Sy which he took with a smile.

“I’m Sergeant Schmidt. She is,” he turned to the red-haired beauty, “Sergeant Ross.”

Sy did not want to come off rude or appear like a male chauvinist, but he wasn’t expecting a woman to be commanding a unit. He raised his eyebrows in surprise which she seemed to catch on to.

“You are Sergeant Ross?” He asked, trying but failing to conceal his astonishment.

“All day,” she said with a smug smile, imitating him by repeating what he had said only a moment ago. “Sergeant Olivia Ross, sir.” She held her hand out, Sy’s eyes darting towards her gloved one. He took her hand in his, noting how hers looked small in his large ones, and gave a confident shake.

“Okay,” He cleared his throat looking at the group of twelve new soldiers at his camp, “We prepared a block for y’all.” He started walking towards the other smaller building besides the main wing. Their new arrivals followed behind him, lugging their bags on their shoulders.

“Keeping us separate, I see.” Olivia commented. Sy turned slightly to look behind him at her. She avoided his gaze, but her face looked unimpressed with her lips sealed tight.

Sy chose to not respond. They climbed up the flights of stairs leading up to the living quarters, bypassing their mess hall and a make-shift gym, and reached the doors to adjacent rooms.

“Guys go in there,” he pointed towards one room, “Ladies, over here.” He turned around to face the group. “Night patrols will be assigned, and I need a group to go with my boys to the village in fifteen minutes.” He folded his arms over his chest, looking directly at Olivia. “We need to get a briefing done.”

“I’ll be down in ten, sir.” she curtly nodded. Everyone seemed to understand her annoyance as they glanced at each other. Sy let out a slow breath, choosing to not address her, again.

When he was back in his office, he pulled out the Echo unit file. Pepps had informed him that women were going to be included in the arriving unit, what he had failed to mention though was that it would be led by a woman. A pretty woman with curves.

Syverson shook his head. He grimaced at his own thought. He was not there to ogle at women, he was there on a mission. He quickly read through the contents of the paper. Sergeant Ross, he gathered, was an enlisted soldier, got promoted to a corporal before she took Aviation course and earned herself a position of helicopter pilot. She got promoted to Sergeant after spending time in Afghanistan and was now leading her own unit.

Sy was impressed. He liked women who were strong and capable, but they were also usually trouble. She already looked miffed about the separate living quarters. In Sy’s defense, he had only thought about making it less uncomfortable for the ladies. Wouldn’t have minded if she had stayed right across from mine though.

He rolled his eyes, exasperated at his train of thoughts yet again. His dick was beginning to strain against the fabric of his pants and as he caught a glimpse of her red-hair heading towards his office, he chose to adjust himself. Because sitting with an erection at their first briefing was not on his agenda today.

“Sir?” Olivia asked, standing at the door with her hands behind her back.

Sy nodded for her to enter. He tried to angle himself in his chair so as to hide his bulge from the Sergeant. “Sergeant Ross,” he cleared his throat, placing the papers back in their place.

“I also go by Liv, sir.” Sy could see the confidence in her eyes glimmer when she spoke. She was fierce, he would give her that. The last time Harper had arrived with his men, they had looked weary and tired. But Olivia looked like she could go to war right now if she was asked to.

“And I go by Sy.” He smirked, watching as Liv spared him a smile. “Are your men ready?”

“Yes. They are getting prepped by your men.”

Sy nodded. There was an empty chair right next to where Liv stood, but she had chosen to stand instead. Typical soldiers. He gestured towards the seat with one hand, “You can take a seat.”

“I’m completely fine here, sir.”

He tried desperately to not let his eyes roam over her body. She had changed from her fatigues to the standard military t-shirt with her cargo pants. It was becoming increasingly difficult to not let his inhibitions down.

He caved.

Sy noted how the fabric stretched over her bosom, curving over her mounds. Her dog tags laid in the valley between her breasts, another silver chain hanging with it. The belt she had cinched at her waist highlighted her figure, making Sy lick his lips. Olivia seemed to be aware of her effect on him, as Sy noticed her fighting a smile.

He coughed and adjusted in his seat as his own soldier came to life again. “Th-the food truck… arrives every week.” He pulled out a map from underneath the table. Spreading it out on his desk, he leaned to point at an ‘X’ marked on it. Olivia took a few steps forward and leaned in too, to understand him better with visualization.

He explained to her the routes they were going to take and the air support they would be needing. All the while she had been standing bent over the table and her face was only a small distance away from him. Sy was aware of their proximity because in this dry desert where all he could smell was gas and sweat, he was getting a whiff of lavender from her.

“What happened to the food trucks from last week? Were you able to get them to the village safely?” Olivia asked. Her eyebrows knitted together in concentration as she looked at the map again.

Sy scratched his beard, looking up to her. “They have set IEDs on the road. We couldn’t even reach the truck. The bastards blew it up as it was turning up the mountain.”

Olivia let out an angry huff and stood up straight. “It’s a good thing we can look from above now.” Sy gave her a nod as she went back to standing with her hands behind her back.

He decided to stand up. In front of him she looked small. Her head barely reached his shoulder and to speak he had to look down. “About the quarters,” he started.

“If I may, sir,” she interrupted him. He gestured at her to speak. “I’m actually thankful for that. Because with your initial surprise at me being a woman and your men looking at us like we are dinner, I’m glad to be staying with the ones I really know.”

“Hey, if you feel vulnerable out here-”

“No sir.” Olivia looked him in the eye. “We are not vulnerable. We do not need you guys to protect us. But we also don’t want to be looked at, like we are for your pleasure.”

Sy understood what she was trying to convey. She hadn’t been fighting a smile earlier. No, she had been fighting a sneer. He clenched his jaw because his mama had raised him to never yell at a woman. He had found her blatant accusation to be rude and being from a higher rank, he could also inflict punishment on her.

But that is not how he worked. And, this was not how he wanted them to start their shared time in this Godforsaken land.

So instead, he decided to be formal. "You are dismissed, Sergeant Ross.”

The challenge in her eyes was somehow arousing for Sy. She had her head held high, her shoulders squared and her back straight. He watched her with furrowed brows as she turned and walked out the door, the confidence in her steps glaringly evident.

Fiery, Sy thought with a renewed smile creeping up on his lips. Just the way I like them.

Chapter Two>

✨Series Masterlist✨

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kimburgess-ruzek · 3 years

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Shattered

chapter one: purgatory

summary: Intelligence had been through the worst of the worst trying to get one of their own back alive. Each member has been to their own personal hell. Will everyone make it back, or will the cracks in Intelligence be big enough for the entire team to shatter?

a/n: about that s9 speculation, yeah i’m going to make a fic out of it. if you want to beat around the bush and read the plot of the fic, it’s here. definitely new to writing so we’ll see how this goes! also, don’t know how to work a tag list, but if you want to be tagged, let me know!

t/w: mentions of trauma, gunshot wounds, assault, surgical procedures (which btw i made up, i’m not a medical expert)

read on ao3.

purgatory

“I think we should get married.”

six words. six of the most important words. Jay had the breath knocked out of him. He can’t understand what he was just asked. I think we should get married. Just a few months ago, Hailey wouldn’t even look into his eyes, much less say “I love you.” And a marriage proposal, that seemed pretty much impossible.

Jay looked into Hailey’s eyes. He saw past the tears and looked deeper. He saw sadness and fear, emotions not usually associated with an engagement. No, he saw something different. Hailey was different.

Jay cleared his throat, clearly stunned. “I—.” He tried to find words, find anything to respond. But he couldn’t. He cleared his throat and tried again to say something, anything, but nothing came out. Hailey noticed the hesitation and suddenly changed her demeanor. She tried to dry her tears as quickly as possible, wiping her eyes and running her hair through her hands. She then stopped Jay, interrupting whatever he was trying to express.

“You know what, never mind. Never mind. I— We need to go. We need to get to the hospital. See how Kim’s doing.”

Jay saw the sudden change and tried to reason with Hailey. He quickly found his words. “Wait, wait, wait. Hails. Is everything okay?” He asked while putting his hands on Hailey’s arms, stopping her from turning towards the door. He gently rubbed them, trying to soothe Hailey. However, it was to no avail; Hailey gently pushed herself away.

“No. No, we need to go. We need to see Kim. I need to see her. Let me go change and then we’ll leave, okay?” Hailey reassured Jay, nodding her head. Before Jay could respond, Hailey kissed Jay on the cheek and briskly walked to the room. She felt like she was suffocating in her clothes. She had worn them for almost two straight days, and she had been to hell and back in them. She needed to get out of them.

“Okay—“ Jay half yelled, wanting to make sure she heard him. He updated Will on his whereabouts and he let the rest of the team know he and Hailey were on their way to the hospital. Kevin replied that Kim was still in surgery. The doctor hasn’t given any updates but hopefully will soon. After about five minutes, Hailey walked out in a new pair of jeans and a different top. She quietly grabbed three granola bars, one for her to eat on the way and the others probably for Kevin and Trudy. Jay loved how thoughtful she was. She had her keys, purse, and jacket in hand and was heading for the door.

“Ready?”

“Yep.” Jay got up from the couch and followed Hailey out the door, turning off the lights on the way out.

The walk to the car and the drive to Med was really quiet. There was definitely tension in the vehicle; there wasn’t the comfortable silence that Jay and Hailey were used to. Hailey was focused on the road while Jay was focused on Hailey. She never looked back at Jay though, her eyes only on the road.

“Do you want to talk about what just happened—“ Jay started but Hailey quickly interrupted him.

“No.”

Jay took a breath and mumbled “okay.”

For the rest of the ride, you could’ve heard a pin drop in the car. No one talked and no one made any extra movement. Once Hailey found a parking spot in the parking garage, she turned the car off and took a long, hard breath, trying to gather her words. Jay was opening the door when Hailey grabbed his hand, stopping him.

“Look, Jay. I... Look I’m sorry about earlier. I didn’t mean to be short with you.”

It’s okay,” Jay replied, trying to reassure her.

“No, it's more than that. I didn’t mean what I said earlier. At the apartment. I mean I love you, I do. I love you. And I think you’re decent. But not the other stuff. I just... It was just today. We almost lost our team member. We almost lost our friend, Jay. I don’t know what I would’ve done if we lost Kim. And I can’t think about it. If we did lose her. Because I don’t know if I could’ve forgiven myself. I don’t know if I could live with myself, thinking I could’ve done more. And at the apartment, I just saw someone that helped save my friend and I don’t want to lose you either, ever. And the emotions and no sleep and everything just got to me and I.. I. I don’t know. I don’t know. But.. Just don’t think about that question I asked earlier. Okay, Jay? Okay? It’s all good, I promise.”

Jay could clearly see Hailey was rambling. She was tired, no, she was exhausted, and she was backtracking. He was scared. He was scared that Hailey would retreat back to before, turned off from love. He hoped this experience didn’t make Hailey go back to being afraid of love. Of loving Jay. Because he loved Hailey. He loved everything about Hailey, from her seriousness when working a case to her humming along to the music she was playing in her earphones while pouring her coffee in the mornings. But there was also something else. Something that Jay couldn’t explain. Hailey was different, and not different because of what she explained. No, this was more than fear, more than desperation. This was a plea, almost a cry for help. And Jay didn’t know why. But he knew that something changed in her. Something happened when Voight split them up. And Jay knew he had to get to the bottom of it. Not for his sake, but for Hailey’s.

As much as Jay wanted to tell her he enjoyed the proposal, he knew she didn’t mean it. At least, he knew she didn’t want it for pure love. This wasn’t genuine. The love was, but the proposal wasn’t. This was a reaction to something. And as much as Jay would love to be engaged to Hailey Upton, he knew she wasn’t ready for it. And he knew she would regret it if the proposal went down like this. But he knew that he loved Hailey with all of his heart, and he was going to show that. As much as he wanted to say "yes," he was afraid of saying anything would just break her. So he went along with Hailey at the moment, and he decided he was going to try again later.

Jay put his free hand to Hailey’s cheek, wiping a stray tear. “Hailey, I love you. I love you so much. And that’s not going to change. Ever. I will do whatever you want to do and are comfortable doing. Now, let’s go check on Kim. Does that sound good?”

Hailey relaxed into Jay’s hand and closed her eyes. This was the first time she had relaxed in hours. After a pause, she nodded and left Jay’s hold. She opened the car door, and they walked towards the hospital entrance to hear the fate of their friend’s life. They walked into the unknown.

Med was covered in blues. Police of all ranks and districts filled the waiting room. It was so packed, Kim would be embarrassed. She wouldn’t want to be the center of attention. But she needed the love. She needed the support, and when one of their own has fallen, everyone’s going to be there to help pick them back up.

Hailey and Jay quickly spotted Kevin and Trudy in their blackout gear. Kevin had his bloody vest lying on the floor next to him. His bloody vest that was Kim’s blood from where he held her so tight, trying to stop any bleeding if it would do any good. Trudy was sitting in a chair and Kevin was standing next to her, his hand on her shoulder and his phone to his ear. He wasn’t talking, but his phone was still to his ear.

Trudy wasn’t speaking either. She couldn’t speak. She couldn’t find any reason to have small talk. Or deep talk. She just couldn’t find anything to say. All she could do was just think, and run her mind to the ground worrying about Kim.

Kim held a very special place in Trudy’s heart. She was different from any other officer that Trudy has had. Kim has this pluckiness to her. She had a different attitude when it came to policing. And as much as Trudy berated her in front of the 21st, as much as Trudy picked on Kim and made her work overtime and made her run the extra mile, she loved Kim. She loved that green rookie with big brown eyes that walked in on the first day with a smile and a donut. She loved the woman who stayed in the district despite her failed relationship. She loved the woman who kept fighting when she kept getting knocked down. Kim had to have the biggest heart Trudy had ever known a police officer to have. Whether that be because of all of the hardship she has dealt with in the police academy or the lack thereof while growing up Trudy didn’t know. And to be quite frank, she didn’t care. All she knew was that she wanted to protect that big heart of Kim’s. She had to because Kim was the reason why a city like Chicago has hope. Kim brought light to a city of darkness. She brought ambition to a city of despair. No matter what the case was, Kim put all of her knowledge and energy into that case. She not only did that, but she cared for the people in the case. Hell, she even cared for some of the suspects, damn it. That’s how big Kim’s heart was. That's how big Kim's heart is. And now, that big, gullible, genuine heart has to fight for its life. It had to put itself in a position to be saved and it has to endure hours upon hours of surgery. So no, Trudy could not find any words to say.

Hailey and Jay walked up to Kevin and Trudy and gave solemn grins. Trudy found the strength to stand up and hug both Hailey and Jay. She held onto Jay a little longer, whispering ever so quietly “Thank you.” Jay patted Trudy’s back as a welcome, trying not to cry from the images of Kim handcuffed in that Buick resurfacing. After what seemed like a century, Trudy let go and sat back down. Hailey hugged Kevin and she and Jay stood with them.

Hailey then dug into her bag and pulled out a portable phone charger and handed it to Kevin.

“I thought you might need this.”

“Thanks, Hailey. Ruz would appreciate it.” Kev kindly took the charger and plugged it into his phone. He was glad because his phone was surely dying but he wanted to give Adam all of the updates as that were coming in.

“How’s Makayla?” Jay asked, crossing his arms.

“Uh, she’s good. She’s good. Adam told her that Kim had to work late, so she’s good. She remembered Adam and wasn’t scared. She fell asleep on the couch but Adam moved her to her bedroom.” Kevin tried to find any facts to answer Jay's question. He replied before listening to Adam say something over the phone.

“Yeah, Hailey and Jay are here... No, no updates yet... Yeah, man... The docs said the surgery would be pretty long.” Kevin answered over the phone.

“I spoke to the Commander. Intelligence isn’t getting any new cases until Kim pulls through.” Trudy stated, looking up at Jay and Hailey who nodded. They both thought it was rather respectful of the commander.

Trudy turned her attention towards Hailey, asking, “Did you or Hank find anything about Roy?”

With that question, Kevin looked at Hailey too. He chimed in, “Yeah did you catch any leads? Do you know where Voight is? Trudy has tried calling, but it goes straight to voicemail.”

All eyes were on Hailey, who quickly became flustered and at a loss for words. Does she tell the truth? Hell no. Not right now at least. Not until she gets to the bottom of what Voight did with the body. What does she tell them? She hung her mouth open, not knowing what to say. Jay noticed Hailey’s nerves and tried to calm her by putting a hand on her shoulder and giving it a squeeze. This made Hailey refocus, and she mustered up an answer.

“I, uh. No. No. And I don’t know where Voight is.” Hailey could barely get her Sergeant’s name out of her mouth. She tried her best to sound casual and honest, and it must’ve worked. Either that or everyone was so exhausted and stressed that they didn’t press any further.

Will Halstead pushed his way through the waiting room and joined the team.

“Hey, no word yet. I just talked to one of the nurses. Just said they’re still in surgery.” Will said. He tried to press for news. Anything, but he was shot down. Hopefully, this was just because they were in a rush and not because they had bad news, which is what Will does but didn't want to believe was the situation now. When Jay told him of Kim's injuries, Will, as a doctor, was shocked she even had a pulse. Her injuries were severe and traumatic, and she spent almost 24 hours bleeding. But Will dare not say his thoughts to Intelligence. No. He didn't want to break any of their hope. And Kim was going to need all of the hope she could get if she was going to pull through.

The team just nodded and settled in. Not one of them was going to leave until they received news about their member. So they waited.

It was 8:03 am. The sun was peaking through the blinds covering the windows. It has been 10 hours. 10 long hours. Some of the police officers left for their shift. Most stayed, camping out in their chairs. Some slept on the floor. Some were called to a scene where they handled it and immediately came back to the hospital. Hailey, Jay, Kevin, and Trudy rotated between two seats, allowing each person to catch a little bit of sleep. But in reality, none of them could get more than a few minutes of rest before the memories of the previous 36 hours crept into their minds, jolting them alert and awake. But they all stayed in that waiting room. In purgatory. No matter how scared, how sad they were, they all remained brave. Trudy and Jay tried calling Voight a couple of times only to realize he wasn't coming. They passed it off to be overwhelming. They thought Hank couldn't fathom hearing any bad news about Kim in person. Either that or he was somewhere, swallowing down liquor like he did when Al passed. But they didn't leave. They couldn't leave. They just had to hope the Sergeant wasn't doing anything he shouldn't be doing.

Kevin stayed on the phone until about 3 am before Adam told him he was going to try to sleep so he could take Makayla to school the next day. Adam woke up at 6 but got the same luck as the rest of his team. He didn’t really get much of actual rest. But he woke up, got ready, fixed breakfast, woke Makayla up, got her ready, drove her to school while singing her favorite songs, and was back on the phone with Kev and heading to Med before 7:45.

Will kept coming in and out of the waiting room. He would periodically try to get information but was shut down every time. Nevertheless, he kept trying. He kept pushing for Intelligence. For Kim.

Suddenly, a doctor scrubbed and dressed in surgical gear stepped foot into the waiting room and everyone immediately woke each other up and sprang to their feet. Kevin told Adam the surgeon was here and put his phone on speaker. The surgeon walked straight to Intelligence and the other officers turned towards the team, waiting for the news. No one moved. No one blinked. Everyone studied the surgeon, trying to pick up on any cues before he spoke. Everyone held their breath. Everyone waited for the update.

After a long breath, the surgeon started pouring words.

“Officer Kim Burgess experienced severe head trauma, assault, shoulder strain, and two shots to the abdominal region. It was clear she lost a lot of blood, and when we got into surgery, it was much worse. She had a dislocated right knee, so we set it in place. The through-and-through shot didn’t do any internal damage so we patched it right up. The other one that never exited was lodged two inches to the right of her left kidney. If it were to hit it, she would have experienced kidney failure and gone into shock shortly after getting hit. Luckily, that didn’t happen. We were able to extract the bullet with as minimal damage as could be done. She had some pieces of glass lodged in her arms and we were able to get them out. She experienced head trauma. We checked, and she was bleeding internally in the brain. Left untreated, it could have lead to developmental setbacks, blood clotting, or death. However, it must’ve started only a little before she arrived here. This was likely due to her staying calm under pressure and subconsciously keeping her head in the correct position. She lost a lot of blood and had a low BP. She lost a pulse after we tried to stop the bleeding, but she was resuscitated after the first try. We did everything we could, and we did a lot. She made it out of surgery. She’s critical, but she’s stable.”

With that, everyone let out the breath that they were holding and erupted with such emotion. Some celebrated, hugging and shaking hands with each other. Some clapped and yelled in happiness. Some stood there in awe, in shock, in disbelief. Hailey dropped her head in her hands and started sobbing. Kim’s alive. She’s alive. Jay let out an excited expression and high-fived Will before engulfing a shaky Hailey in a huge hug. Trudy just let out a loud, deep sigh of relief. She immediately pulled the surgeon in for a hug. She knew Kim would pull through. Kim’s a fighter. She was going to push through. Kevin had big tears in his eyes. He couldn’t believe it. As much as he tried to be optimistic, he saw Kim with his own two eyes. He saw her and could only imagine what kind of torturous hell she went through. He knew Kim was strong, but this. This situation looked bleak. And as much as he tried not to believe that he held on to Kim during her dying breaths, he just didn’t know if Kim could pull through. He didn’t know if anyone could have pulled through with those injuries. But she did. Kim’s alive. After Kevin caught his breath he put his phone to his ear and checked on Adam.

“You heard that, brother?”

All he heard back were deep breaths and sobs.

“She’s okay. She’s gonna be okay. She’s gonna be okay.” Kev heard Adam whispering in between his cries. He didn’t hear a direct answer from Adam but he knew he heard the surgeon. Kev followed suit and replied, “She’s gonna be okay. She's gonna be okay, bro.”

The surgeon cleared his throat and the waiting room quieted down, listening to what else he had to say.

“They’re wrapping up on Officer Burgess now. She will have a brace on her knee to keep it in place. She’s cut and bruised, and she’ll likely have a concussion. We’re giving her blood and we’ll continue for the next few days along with antibiotics to treat any infections from the warehouse. She’s sedated. We’re going to try to ease her awake but she’s a fighter. So she’ll probably wake up by tonight. She’ll be transferred to a private ICU after she’s out of surgery. She’s been to hell and back, and she has a hell of a recovery to go, but she’s alive.”

The waiting room erupted again in relief and celebration. The surgeon hugged and shook hands with all of the officers, including Intelligence. He then left the room to allow the policemen to celebrate.

Intelligence just looked at each other. They didn’t jump up and down or screamed to the rooftops. No, they were too tired for that. But also it was a different kind of energy. 48 hours ago, they were at each other’s throats. Each one of them had a different idea on how to solve this case. On how to get Kim back. Each one of them had hit their breaking point. Each one of them had been to their own hell. And some of them hadn’t made it back yet. And while Kim was fighting back from her hell, while she was fighting for her life, the team came together. They rallied together for their team member, for their friend. They had to come together in order to give Kim that energy. That strength in order for her to make it out on the other side. But that was temporary, and the team knew that. Now, after Kim has made it, the team doesn't know how to feel. They didn’t know what to do. And just because they got what they wanted — they got Kim back and they got her back alive — it doesn’t mean everything that just happened is dropped. It doesn’t mean everything, every word can just be forgotten. No, it just means things get taken off pause.

Intelligence had a lot of work to do. It had a long road ahead of them. The question is: will everyone make it out unscathed? Or will someone crack, leading Intelligence to be shattered?

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o-wise-corvid · 4 years

Text

Oooookay guys! Here’s the prologue to my little fic idea. It’s um... it’s gonna be depressing okay so if you can’t handle some gut wrenching emotionals, leave this for another day. I really hope y’all like it and I’m gonna try to get at least one update in a week. Anyhoo. Enjoy.

People who were wanting more: @captainrexisboo @clonetrooperrights @koskareevesismyqueen @gospelofme @jgvfhl @ct-27-fives @pro-fangirls-unsocial-life

TAGS: PG-13 tops/mention of deaths/battle trauma/PTSD/ nightmares/ self-loathing thoughts/ um... If y’all see something else I need to tag, holler. Oh and if ya wanna reblog, go right ahead.

Prologue- Captain Cody

A varactyl death scream. The echoing sounds of blaster fire. His own voice repeated over and over, bellowing orders, shrieking in pain. He watched the Jedi fall. Obi-Wan turned himself over in midair, determined to survive. The commander’s arm was still lifted in the kill order gesture, two fingers pointing at the target. His arm. “Blast him.” Words formed easily by his mouth while the inside of his head screamed, fighting his own bones and muscles.

Cody’s eyes snapped open and he cried out wordlessly, relieved to find himself in his bunk, shrouded in the dark, legs twisted up in sweat damp covers. He lay still, trying to bring his breathing under control.

“Captain?” The black protocol droid that had been assigned to his quarters snapped to life and turned hollow, yellow visual sensors toward him.

“It’s fine, Sixthree.” His voice sounded ragged in the hollow, stuffy echo of the room.

Cody sat up, swinging his legs over the side of his bunk with a groan. His hips and lower back protested, popping as he moved. He was getting old and feeling it. Standing, Cody shuffled to the refresher and braced himself on the little sink that stood directly opposite the door. The squared off, slightly warped mirror betrayed more than his body ever could.

His hair was silvered at the temples and around the back of his head, thinning up top. He’d been considering going totally bald for a while now. Just to be done with it. Wrinkles spread out from his eyes in webs, carving furrows from his nose and down the sides of his mouth, creasing his forehead. The scar framing his left eye was more like a crevice now, pulling his eyelid down a little. His body wasn’t as lithe and flexible as it had once been, though he’d like to see one of the fit new Shinies take on a spider droid up next to him.

“You look rough, Trooper.” And then he smiled dryly at himself, scratching the stubble on his chin and cheeks absently.

A sick ache left from the dream curdled in his guts and he splashed some lukewarm water on his face. The memories of the Order didn’t seem like they would ever ease. The hatred of what he’d done followed him like a shadow, literally everywhere he looked, the result of his contribution to the Galactic Empire slapped him across the face as if on purpose. The monster had risen from the seeds sown by what most people now called The Clone Wars and it was huge, dark and ugly.

Obi-Wan. Cody gave an audible hiss at the thought of his name. The Jedi had been his friend, had saved his life, and how had he been repaid? With a watery grave, a shot in the back from his own Troopers. Guilt, old and familiar made him tighten his grip on the sink, the flimsy plastisteel groaning under the force he exerted. There’d not been a man in he galaxy that Cody had respected more and a faint glimmer of hope that his actions now would’ve made The Negotiator... what, proud? Not hate him because of what he’d done, the way he did in many other nightmares that made the regular circuit of his fitful dreams.

Cody wasn’t sure. He walked around, issued order about keeping the destroyer he’d been charged with floating, and trained new recruits when he wasn’t looking fierce. Recruits?! Stupid little kids that thought they could ever match the ferocity and skill of Clones. His brothers. There were so few of them left anymore, all spread around, trying to imprint their abilities on people who were not bread to war and battle. It was such numb-skulled concept. The Empire wanted the effectiveness of Clones but didn’t want to keep making them.

“Captain Cody.”

That voice brought him to attention. It was Vader. A chill crept over his scalp and down his spine until it sank into his feet, turning them into blocks of ice. Cody crossed to the communication display that took up most of the living quarter’s space. Vader’s head and shoulders loomed, huge and eclipsing, angular mask staring at him indifferently. He snapped to attention, uncaring that he was only in the black bottoms that he wore under his armor. “Lord Vader.”

The head inclined slightly in acknowledgement. Just after the end of the Wars, Vader had caught him in this state before and when he didn’t address the fact that Cody was naked to the waist and obviously just getting out of bed, Cody realized that Vader either tolerated it, doubtful, or simply didn’t care. He had no idea who Vader was underneath the armor and cape, but his suspicions leant toward a former Jedi. Who in the Force that might’ve been, he had absolutely no clue. The man knew soldiers though and he didn’t antagonize those who did their job and did it well. One thing he knew though was that he didn’t want to get on Vader’s bad side. Cody had betrayed his Jedi against his will, but this man... this man was something else. If former Jedi he was, Vader had slain and hunted his brethren until the mention of them was all but forbidden. If he knew soldiers, then he’d been in command. And there were only a handful of Jedi who had actually led troops, none of whom Cody could stomach the thought of becoming the beast that was Darth Vader.

“Your presence is required in the training yard. I have a new assignment for you.”

“As you wish, my Lord.” Cody answered automatically, without inflection. It was the way a Clone still under the control of the chip would sound like and Cody was careful to hold himself in that tight pattern, not allowing the facade to slip for even a second. If they knew, if anyone so much as suspected...

But his life was cheap at this point and if he had to die, trying to keep an eye on the Empire was a good use of what little time he had left.

He dressed quickly after Vader ended the transmission. His armor was not dissimilar from that which he’d worn nearly all his life, except black was the main color rather than white. It did look nicer, the shiny plastoid gleaming darkly with his signature bright yellow-gold accents. He bore the rank of Captain now, which was more decorative than anything, but even after all these years, Cody felt most comfortable with the weight of his armor encapsulating him. The Imperial insignia across his chest soured that comfortable feeling though.

Vader was waiting for him in the training yard, a thrumming shadow with the breath of a sleeping giant, waiting to reach out and crush anything it decided deserved a slow, strangling death. He was well over six feet tall and made Cody feel like he was looking up into the mouth of some enraged, ravenous beast. But he snapped to, saluted and stood at attention with practiced and even graceful fluidity.

“Captain,” Vader greeted smoothly, stepping to the side. His long cape shifted to reveal a... little girl? Cody’s eyes flicked down at her, seeing the naked terror on her face and it was all he could do not to tilt his head to let her know he was looking at her.

“This child is a force wielder, Captain. She lacks the ability to become as powerful as myself or even as the Jedi who you once served beside, but her talents can be used for the Empire’s service. You will train her in hand to hand combat. Your service record reflects the type of master she will require to be of use to us.”

“Yes sir,” Cody chirped, hoping his voice didn’t betray his total shock at what was happening. “She will... stay with me?”

“She will stay wherever you deem fit. Do not coddle her, Captain.” The command dripped menace and Cody fought the urge to swallow nervously.

“Of course not, my Lord. She will learn or she will die.” The little girl flinched at the word, glancing between the two faceless men. Vader nodded pointedly and left, the cape billowing behind him like a storm, not sparing a further considering moment for the little girl.

“Follow me.” Cody made sure his voice carried an acidic growl loud enough for anyone within earshot to register.

The girl gave a start and then obeyed. Her eyes were huge and dark, dirty and tangled black curls spilling around her face. Her skin would’ve been dark, possibly the same shade as his, had she not been leeched with cold and fright, her hands balled into tight little fists that she kept pressed to her chest.

He led her to his quarters, unsure of where else he was even supposed to take her. No one so much as glanced at them as the odd duo passed through the monstrous ship and Cody wondered if it was out of fear or apathy. Once they were inside, Cody ordered the protocol droid to go find some clothes that would fit the girl and bring in some food for her. The chattery clanker hurried off to do his bidding and Cody locked the door behind it. Then, he turned to look at the little girl.

What was he supposed to do now? Training older teenagers and grown adults was one thing. But a kid? A kid who’d been ripped from her family and tossed on a Star Destroyer with an old Clone, no less. Where was she from? What had happened to her? What must be happening inside her head right now...

“What’s your name?”

She blinked up at him, fear and anger making her eyes over bright, not answering. Instead, she made a frightened little noise and stepped back from him, glancing around for somewhere to escape. She was so scared, so lost. The sight of her did something unspeakable to Cody’s heart and he fought the urge to just scoop her up and hold her. Kids shouldn’t be experiencing this. They should be at home, with family, with people who could provide for them and protect them. This was so wrong. So cruel.

“Hey, hey, no...” Cody hesitated and then slowly removed his helmet, remembering an incident with Waxer and Boil on Ryloth in what felt like another lifetime. The helmets were scary back then; he probably looked like some sort of predator to her. Sinking down on one knee slowly, he leveled his eyes with hers, hoping not to further terrify his new charge. “I’m Cody. I’m not gonna hurt you, little one. But if you’re gonna survive this, you’re gonna have to trust me.”

She stared at him, breathing hard. There was no way he could get her off the ship and back to safety; her home was probably a crater by now, wherever it was.

“I... come here.” He reached for the blanket crumpled on his bed and tugged it free. “I know it’s cold. You’ll get used to it. Especially once we get you some decent clothes.” He opened it up to her, inviting her to take it. She didn’t. The dark, wide eyes watched him, tears spilling over and down her cheeks. Cody didn’t expect to feel a lump form in his own throat but there it was.

And that was when the world of Trooper CC-2224 shifted.

Something clicked, almost audibly, inside Cody’s head and the running, yowling script of “How am I supposed to do this?” halted, erased itself and was replaced with one firm sentence: “I’m going to do this.” Because of course he was. There wasn’t another option. He might’ve betrayed the Jedi, he might be still serving the Empire despite having slowly but surely shrugged out from under the control of the chip in his brain, but he was not going to just allow this little girl to suffer if he could possibly help it. For all his failings, for all his regret and self-hatred, this little girl could be the one thing that he finally got right. She needed a family, a protector, a provider... well... she had one. If this was coddling, then he guessed he’d just have to make his peace with disobeying a direct order, come what may. There really wasn’t any other choice.

“It’s okay, precious. I’m not-“ His breath left him as the girl flung herself at him. He wondered for a split second if maybe his epiphany had somehow shown through on his face as the girl’s momentum sent him rocking backward a little. It didn’t really matter though. This was where he realized he wanted her, safe and wrapped up in his arms. The relief of being able to comfort her somehow bled the strength out of him like a wound and he sat down with a weary sigh.

Skinny arms clutched around his neck and the cries of a child who had seen and felt too much too soon tore the air the quiet room. They stabbed at his chest, sounding too much like the green varactyl as it had fallen. “Easy, easy,” Cody tried, eyes stinging. He let the little girl cling to him as hard as she wanted, rubbing her bony back soothingly. He wanted to say something, to find the magic word that would make the pain that was this small creature lessen. But there were none, he realized as he swiped angrily at his own wet cheeks.

“You’re gonna have to trust me, okay?” he repeated after a long minute, having wrestled his emotions down to where he thought he could keep them still. “You’re gonna be okay.” Whatever was going to happen with this little girl would not be easy but in no way was this something he’d miss. Toss her off on some underling? Step in to check on her once a week? Unthinkable.

She grew still and then stepped back a little bit, hands still on his shoulders. Swollen, red eyes. Streaked, grimy cheeks. A dress that was mostly patches and frayed edges. “Cody,” she tried, and managed a wobbling, watery smile.

He smiled sadly at her, wiping her tears away with his thumbs. “That’s right. You... you can either tell me your name or if you’d like, you can have a new one.” What made him do it, Cody wouldn’t be able to say for several years. But the ultimate reason was that this little creature reminded him so very much of his brothers. He’d never held someone, let them cry on him and felt their body heave with sorrow, that wasn’t one of his brothers.

“I can pick a name?” A curious, almost happy note crept into the girl’s voice, which was high and sweet.

“Sure. I picked mine.”

She frowned but it was more curiosity instead of something troubling. A grimy hand came up and dug the heel of her palm into her eyes, then she gave a loud sniffle. “Your parents didn’t give you one?”

“I didn’t have parents,” Cody said simply. “I had brothers though. Lots and lots of them.”

The girl’s face brightened but then fell. “My parents are gone, too.”

“I’m sorry, sweetheart.” Cody cupped her face in his hands, trying so hard to be gentle. “But you’ve got me. I’m gonna make sure you’re gonna be okay.”

Her eyes glistened but she didn’t start sobbing again. Instead, she reached up and traced the curve of Cody’s scar with one finger. If there had been some part of himself that Cody had been withholding from committing to keeping this girl alive, it was now officially and unconditionally surrendered. He expected her to say something about the scar, but instead she asked softly, “Could I have my Mama’s name?”

“Tell it to me.” He actually impressed himself with how steady his voice sounded because inside, everything felt like it was breaking and twisting, reshaping itself into something not unpleasant but not easily made.

“Gaia,” she said quietly.

“That’s lovely.” Cody smiled, a tear that he hadn’t watched closely enough slipping down his cheek. The little girl saw it and daintily brushed it away. “You sure about it?” he asked, clearing his throat to try to hold some part of himself together.

“... Yeah...”

He pulled her into another hug, which was warmer than the first. She curled into him like they’d known one another her whole life and Cody, now so exhausted that all he wanted to do was crawl into bed and never get up, leaned back against the wall with a tired grunt. “Okay, Gaia. Okay.”

#star wars #sunshine squad #commander cody #star wars fanfiction #the clone wars #temura morrison #gaia #darth vader #latent Mandalorian parenting syndrome

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thequeenb · 4 years

Text

Pairings Poppy x MC

Zoe dragged me into this frat party where once again i had to see Poppy's face. I grew fond of her cruel words and her sharp glare. Everywhere i go i feel like i am being followed, that must be because everyone is so interesting in our stupid fights.

I am now sitting on a bench as the loud music consumes me. Zoe is playing beer ponk with the boys. She insisted on playing but i wasn't in the exact mood for that. Luis practically got offended saying he wants to team up with me again and kick their asses.

I chug the bitter liquor from my cup as i feel it burning my throat. What am i even doing here? Tomorrow i must grade the essays Professor Kingsley gave me. I probably drank more than i intended too but that's because of my latest encounter with Poppy.

As i stand up someone bump into me and the remaining liquor on my cup goes flying on my new shirt. Great, just what i needed. I glance up and see Veronica put her phone away looking at me apologetically. I never saw her alone without Poppy's dogs but now she looks different, more carefree

"You should really watch where you are going" she says smirking "here let me" she grabs a handful of napkins from a nearby table handing them to me

I roll my eyes "Maybe stop being on your phone that much"

Veronica chuckles sitting beside me "My followers will hate me if i do"

Wow how soothing. I try to clean the remaining alcohol knowing well it will leave a stain. I sigh running my hand through my hair, what am i supposed to say now?

"Are you here to livestream my failures or did Poppy send you?"

She looks at me skeptical and the silence is stretched out way to long "You know Poppy needs me i don't, i already have a platform"

I know well trust me. Me and Professor went through all of that a couple of weeks ago and luckily i am aware of the people around me

"Then why are you running behind her all the time?"

Veronica sighs and i can tell this question makes her uncomfortable "You dont have to tell me anything..you hate me anyways"

"I don't" she says looking at the chaotic party around us "i tried to put some sense into their heads but"

But they are a bunch of bitches threatened by a small town girl i know Veronica.

I laugh surprised at her statement "And why would i believe you?"

"I had a fight with Poppy. She wanted me to search something embarrassing about your past"

I am not surprised. Since day one Poppy has been nothing but bitter and cold towards me

She takes her phone out typing fast. Ok this girl is no joke. Finally she shoves her screen into my face and i gasp

"Oh my god delete that!" What the hell? How did she found my old account on Instagram

She laughs loudly "Gosh that selfie with the pig is amazing"

For a moment i think she will post it but she actually deletes it looking at me while typing a message. That's some skills.

"I mean no harm. I actually meant to bump into you" she takes a deep breath, her shoulders tense a little bit

"Oh really? Am i that interesting?" I chuckle as i gaze at her. She is indeed beautiful. Her hair is tied in a tight bun a little bit messy if you ask me. A lock of hair falls into her face and without realising i tuck it behind her ear

Her eyes have a hidden desire behind them as she lean in. Is this really happening? That until a loud cough bring me back to reality and of course its Chloe and Poppy

"I thought you said you are going to the bathroom not in the garbage"

I roll my eyes pulling away from Veronica who just sit up "What are you even doing with her? You know you really need to learn how to dress" Chloe says crossing her arms. She is two steps behind Poppy, her shadow basically how sad Chlo.

"Said the barbie wannabe" i stand up ready to leave when i hear Poppy clapping

"How charming Newbee thinks she is something, i can take you back to the bottom of the list but i feel to sorry for you"

Ugh yes Min-Sinclair i am so scared of you. I fight back the urge to respond to her as i head towards Zoe. She smiles warmly when she sees me

"Girl come here we are going to kick some ass!" She says excitedly passing me the ball

___

"Are you serious V you can't be seen with her in public" Chloe says looking up at Poppy for approval

Veronica rolls her eyes "Why don't you bring me a drink doggo?"

Before she can even respond Poppy waves her hand dismissively "Do that"

As she disappears they are finally alone and oh my her eyes are filled with anger

"If you felt nostalgic for the bottom food chain i can drag you there gladly"

Veronica laughs crossing her arms "What's your problem anyways, she is 20 on the rankings"

Poppy takes a step closer and i swear if this was a cartoon smoke would come out from her ears "Listen here you stupid cow i make the rules"

"Says who? The T? Or dozens of stupid brainless students?" Veronica claps back not backing down

"If i see you one more time near Hughes i won't hesitate to end you" Poppy spits out angrily as Chloe comes back with a drink

"I like her she is actually interesting"

Uh oh V you shouldn't have said that. Poppy is holding a drink i wouldn't test her. But instead she storms out with a low scream

Chloe is about to follow but she stops her tracks "Don't you dare follow me!!"

___

I am laughing with the boys felling the alcohol flowing through my veins. With the corner of my eye i see Poppy sitting alone on a bench. Where are her followers? Did Min-Sinclair fall off her high horse yet?

I sigh as i let my cup down approaching her. Zoe gives me a worried look and i nod thinking i am doing the right thing.

The more i approach the more clear i can hear. The music fades behind me and i can actually hear sniffing. Is Poppy crying? The heartless monster that tries to ruin my life has actual feelings? Wow shocker.

"What do you want? Talk to me when you find your sense of fashion" ouch i actually start to regret approaching

"You don't have to pretend, no one is around anyways" i say sitting a little far away from her testing the waters

She sighs letting her walls down "I don't like this party anyways Carter is giving no attention to me"

I try to hold back a laugh and i think she noticed "If you make fu--"

"Oh shut up i am trying to have an actual conversation with you"

"Don't kiss my friends, better yet forget Veronica because if you approach--"

I stand up throwing my hands in the air "Why are you so obsessed with me??" Oh wow i am actually impressed with myself

Poppy looks stunned for a second before standing up to face me "No one gets to talk to me this way Newbee especially someone with an annoying voice and no wearable clothes"

Gosh why do you have to be so annoying? I feel the alcohol kick in and i want to go as far away as possible before i say something i will regret

"You like me" yup there it is, i tried to warn you Bea.

"Excuse me? I like you?"

I suddenly get a notification on my phone. I ignore her outburst as i open the message noticing its from Veronica. Great timing V

"Will you look at that? Veronica wants to meet up so ta ta!"

"No!" She yells and i smirk. Good job Pop, very convincing

I laugh looking at her expression. I can see her faint blush under the neon lights. She is actually beautiful if she wasn't such a bitch. She looks uncomfortably around noticing we are all alone. Very subtle

"I don't want your dirt near my circle" she finally says crossing her arms. How cute

"There you are" Veronica appears at the best time looking between me and Poppy

"Am i interrupting something?" She says ready to step away but i walk towards her

"Actually i was about to come and find you" i say shooting a small smile at Poppy

"See you around!" I grab Veronica's hand leading us away. Oh its on

"AAAAAAA" i can hear a scream but it fades as we step into the dancefloor. For once i feel like i am winning. I dance my worries away as i enjoy making Poppy jealous as she watch us dance close. I will make you work for it darling, make your life a living hell.

As time passes i take a sit exhausted from dancing. Veronica had to go livestream promising she will be back soon. Aaand her comes Poppy once again approaching dangerously close

"What could you possibly want n--" but before i can even finish my sentence Poppy throws her arms around me pulling me into a heated kiss. What.Is.Happening?

I pull away stunned gazing at her shinny eyes "Never approach Veronica again" she says trying to catch her breath. Did she just kiss me?? Before i can even comprehend what we just did she blows me a kiss leaving "See you around Newbee"

I let out a laugh knowing well this is going to be fun.

Tag list: @lolimugly @origmansello @greatestflirt-hero @mvalentine @otakufangirl-12 @sugarplumpnhoneybun @princessstellaris @coldbatfriendroad @lilyspencerswife @indecisive-choices @i-loveeveryone @kiara-36 @ognenniyvolk @somewillwin @it-lives-in-braidwood-manor @sergeant-pepper-loves-choices @justastranger-passing

#queen b #queen b zoey #queen bee #poppy min sinclair #poppy x mc #choices fic #choices fanfiction #pb choices #pb #my fics #choices #anonymous #anon request

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undyingsunshine · 3 years

Note

YESSSSS YOU’RE BACK AND TAKING ASKS

14 and 15 for the most recent post, and I’m gonna come back with more too

Here we go!!!!

14. At what point in writing do you come up with a title?

Honestly, it usually differs from piece to piece! Usually, though, the title comes last! (Though I do have a short list of potential titles for Li Cu fics stored away, most of which are just lyrics from songs xD Whether I end up using them or not, only time will tell!)

15. Which is harder: titles or summaries (or tags)?

All of these tend to give me a bit of trouble xD if I was to rank from hardest to easiest however, I think I'd say titles are the hardest and tags tend to be the easiest. For summaries I usually just slap a portion of the fic in and then add a small almost-summary below it, mostly because I feel like giving a sample of the fic will be more effective than trying to give a succinct description? Kind of shows you what you're getting into before you've even clicked xD

Titles, I use a lot of lyrics from songs, especially ones that I think fit with the character. Though, this does sometimes mean my titles are... long and it can make it a little awkward when trying to talk about the fics themselves. xD

Examples include;

"Come with me, I promise the water is fine..." Which is a lyric from God Bless Eric Taylor by Marietta, a song that I relate to Li Cu somewhat.

This next one is the title of a chapter instead of a whole fic, but I'll count it anyway xD Chapter 2 of I'm Here is titled: "I have this dream that I'm hitting my dad with a baseball bat and he is screaming and crying for help..." which is from the song Father by The Front Bottoms.

I ideally try to make it so that the lyrics also match up with the contents of the chapter/fic. I'm Here's second chapter is all about Li Cu's nightmares, so I thought the title would be pretty fitting xD Honestly, thinking back maybe I could've added more types of dreams.... Ones that fit that title even more.... Small rewrite of that Chapter perhaps? I don't think it would be that different, but still... Would add more angst onto everything xD

The title for "Come with me..." Also sort of relates to the contents of the fic, but moreso in the following line that appears in the summary: "I need something else to comvince me I won't die."

Honestly these lines could have me ranting a whole lot, especially in relation to Li Cu. Just makes me think of all his conflicted feelings, and how he must feel when he drags his friends into the mess he didn't even make. (And these feeling really would increase after Su Wan blames him for the snake bite and getting Shen Qiong inveolved, and during just... the entirety of the time he, Yang Hao, Su Wan and Liang Wan are in the desert together. (ESPECIALLY when Yang Hao is being absolutely mistreated by the 9 families, like sheesh.)

It's just a whole lot of guilt, but also maybe some stubborn determination? Li Cu is very adamant on living just to spit in the face of everyone around him. Existing out of pure spite, but with friends involved, it's more like he's existing to fulfil a purpose? One that he feels like he's bestowed upon himself. Not Wu Xie, or Rishan, or anyone. Just him. He stays alive so he can protect his friends. He'll keep them safe, he'll get them home alive. He has to. And he knows that he will. Or else, what is he even persevering for? "I need something to convince me I won't die." In the fic, this could also be referring to Wu Xie, as he kind of marks safety by the end of the drama. Wu Xie being there means it's okay. It means he doesn't have to fight anymore. And in the fic, it also means that Li Cu can let go. Of Everything. Permanently. (I have so many branching ideas based on that 300 word demon of a fic, you wouldn't even believe)

ANYWAY I'LL STOP RANTING ABT THAT FIC MAYBE I'LL TALK ABOUT THAT FIC MORE IN DEPTH SOME OTHER TIME IF PPL WANT IT.

As for tags, I struggle mostly because I never know what's okay to tag? I'm afraid of tagging a fic with something if the content of that particular tag doesn't show up all that much in the fic? Unless it's something that's a potnential trigger, and then I'll tag it, even if it's small. Just ot be safe. But like. Characters, I don't tag unless they're actually there and present and doing something. If they're mentioned, I tend to not tag them since it's not all that crucial? For people to know they show up for a second? Idk, I like to be as succinct and precise as possible with my tags, because I know how annoying it is for tags to be clogged or for fics to have too many tags xD

4. Share a sentence or paragraph from your writing that you’re really proud of (explain why, if you like)

I have a few, surprisingly! I'll choose two, both from the second chapter of I'm Here!

"Each one makes him wake up, terrified and shaky and wanting to hide or just outright stop existing; to become intangible, untouchable, safe. Of course, he can't actually do that, so instead he pushes the fear down and suffocates it before burying it in the backyard of his mind in the hopes it'll never be dug up again."

Something I try and do while writing is find ways to explain how I. Just. Experience life? (This is also present in Chapter 1 with the line "Further frustration gathered in his chest, making it tighten with stress before it shot up into his throat". Just little things that I've never really seen in words before? That I feel but never know how to accurately describe.) There's always the whole "let the void swallow me/him/her/them whole" thing in media that I love because, honestly, mood. But I guess for this I just wanted to word it differently? In the way I felt was most accurate to myself. Just to be in a state of which nothing can get you, be it life or that one imaginary demon that you sometimes think is lurking around the house at the convenient time of 3 AM, Y'know? When real life becomes TOO real and you just want to blip out for a second, just pause everything and have a moment to be free of everything xD

I also just kind of like the metaphor(?) with his fear. Trust Li Cu to not only associate feelings with violence, but also treat his feelings violently xD I feel like I'm not the best when it comes to imagery and creative expression, especially through words. I point out the obvious, the facts, a lot, both when speaking normally and in writing, and it takes a bit of time for me to remember that I'm writing a story and not jotting a list of events xD So anytime I actually come up with something more kind of creatively written, I feel particularly happy with myself.

"He can't even fully comprehend what's been going on - everything feels bizarre and just out of reach, moreso than usual - but what he does know is that Wu Xie is here and he's angry. The man stands above Li Cu, his cold calculating eyes burning him with wordless accusations that, despite their ambiguity, feel justified. There's guilt, desperation and denial crashing inside him like waves assaulting a rickety raft on a stormy sea. What these feelings are for, he doesn't know. It makes him want to plead for forgiveness all the same."

Let's be honest, Li Cu probably has way too many mixed feelings on Wu Xie. The man who simultaneously built him up and destroyed him. The man who caused him agony, but is also probably one of the best things to come into Li Cu's life??? Like damn, I think I'd be pretty conflicted if I was Li Cu. And things only get worse when, in this fic's timeline, Wu Xie essentially ghosts Li Cu out of guilt for what he did to the kid. This is taken wrong by Li Cu, and he ends up feeling abandoned. By his own kidnapper. I just feel like this snippet is pretty okay at capturing all the blame he puts onto himself, and captures some of the trauma that comes with the events of Sha Hai as well. I just kind of like how this paragraph turned out in the end. xD

6. What character do you have the most fun writing

LI CU!!! Absolutely Li Cu. I don't know exactly what it is but it just. Clicks with me? Or at least the version I write of himd does, it's probably not even close to Li Cu's canon portrayal xD Maybe it's because of the fact that I'm also an angsty, angry 19 year old that I feel as such? It's much easier to put myself in the mind of a teenage boy rather than a 40 year old man xD In terms of non DMBJ writings, I have OCs that I love writing for! Funnily enough, one is an angsty 19 year old boy with a lot of self-worth issues (ringing any bells?) and the other is an angry, confused and conflicted character that was modified to be a kind of living weapon, but had since escaped and repressed all their memories of what happened. Though, the memories eventually start to resurface and they begin to question themself a whole lot, with flashbacks haunting the corners of their mind and driving them deeper and deeper into guilt-filled despair.

In general, angsty characters with a lot of conflicted emotions are super fun to write for! To flicker around from thought to thought and dive into all the hidden feelings that a character can have. It's just super enjoyable for me xD

#writing this while also writing an essay #it's helping me turn those rusty head gears #i feel like i can finally write things again xD #THANK YOU FOR THE ASKS SIERRA! I hope my answers were satisfactory!! xD #i think i went way too off-topic with some of these but honestly when do i ever stay on topic????#ask game #undying prattle #ramblerambleramble #miiiight edit this tomorrow to make it more comprehensible #but for now you can have this mess of a post xD

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carewyncromwell · 4 years

Photo

Whew! Three drawings for the price of one for the POTC AU! The first two feature our new Pirate King Jules Farrier-Weasley @cursebreakerfarrier (flanked by Jacob “Black Jack” Cromwell Roberts and Orion Amari), and Cutler Beckett (flanked by Carewyn Cromwell “Carey Weasley” and Patricia Rakepick). The last one features the human form of our Davy Jones, Finn McGarry @theguythatdraws, with his One True Love Chiara Dalma, A.K.A. Calypso! These took a while, but they were fun to do, so I hope you like them.

Jules’s “tunic” is actually the same chemise she cut up while she was still on board the Artemis, as seen in a doodle on a previous post. Carewyn’s new uniform (which we’ll address in this part) is based on yet another of James Norrington’s costumes, this time the one he wears in the third Pirates film. Unlike the character whose role she roughly fills, though, Carey isn’t going to die unceremoniously in the middle of the damn story after getting this costume change. (Why no, I’m not bitter about the fact that Jack Davenport didn’t get more screentime and that Norrington didn’t get to be the Javert to Captain Jack Sparrow’s Valjean in the sequels the way he so could’ve been after the first movie, why would you think that? *snort*)

Now that we’re getting more into the Davy Jones/Calypso stuff, I can acknowledge how much I’ve changed from the original films’ depictions of the characters, as well as why. Personally I find the characters’ relationship to be a bit toxic and not as romantic as it should be. Calypso, being a goddess, could very easily not understand things like the passage of time through a man’s eyes, but the excuse she gives for why she wasn’t there to support her lover after all of the hard and lonely work he’d put in for her after ten years is just “it’s who I am.” I get that she’s a manifestation of the sea and not something you can pin down and all that jazz, but at the same time, it was cruel to follow her own selfish whims over considering her lover’s feelings. She presumably then also didn’t even try following up with Jones after he returned to the sea, as they aren’t able to sort out that misunderstanding before the events of At World’s End. (I mean, she’s a shape-shifting goddess of the sea, and she made him that way in the first place, so it’s not like she couldn’t have met him somewhere that wasn’t dry land.) I understand Jones couldn’t expect her to change her nature, and that’s fair, but it doesn’t make me like Calypso very much or feel much of anything for her relationship with Jones. And on the flip side, Jones decides to take out his pain at this misunderstanding (which he really should’ve tried clearing up AGES before the events of At World’s End) on his lover in the most spiteful, vindictive way -- teaching a bunch of pirates how to trap an immortal goddess into a mortal body that definitely has none of the power innate to her, presumably feels pain, and could even age or die. Rather than trying to quit the job Calypso gave him or even trying to figure out what happened, he decides to clip the wings of the woman he supposedly loves, all due to his own pain at being betrayed. So I don’t feel much for Jones as a character and for his relationship with Calypso either. In the end, when they quasi-make up, I didn’t think it was earned or that it was a good outcome for either of them. I do think there’s some tragedy in the situation, for they clearly feel deeply for each other, but their romance is really dysfunctional in my opinion, and I think it could’ve been handled a lot better if you wanted to make the pairing as romantic as the theme Hans Zimmer wrote for it. (As a side, take a listen to this lovely lyric cover someone wrote for the Davy Jones theme, it’s so good!) This is part of why I like being able to write Chia and Finn (the Calypso and Jones analogues in this AU) with a more sympathetic backstory, as well as some organic development for both them and their relationship while they’re apart from each other, which I kind of think was lacking in Tia Dalma/Calypso in particular.

Previous part is here, whole tag is here, and I hope you all enjoy!

x~x~x~x

Carewyn was perturbed by how fast an armada of ships from Port Royal caught up with the Flying Dutchman, once Rakepick had Jones send one of his cursed crew members with a message for Beckett. It was as though the head of the East India Trading Company had been waiting in eager anticipation of the Dutchman locating Shipwreck Cove ever since he gave her and Rakepick the mission in the first place.

Among the armada was the Clearwater, and Carewyn was shocked and a little happy to see Percy crossing over to the Dutchman from his ship and leaping off the gangplank to greet her. The youngest of the three Weasley brothers who’d joined the Navy gave her a salute for formalities’ sake, but he couldn’t keep the relieved smile off his face.

“Commodore Weasley,” he said formally.

“Captain Weasley,” said Carewyn in return.

As soon as they’d greeted each other, both of them loosened considerably. Carewyn opened her arms and brought Percy into a rather mannish hug, clapping his back the way Bill often did whenever he hugged his brothers.

“Jones’s men treated you well, I hope?” Percy murmured under his breath, his voice betraying some cold suspicion despite himself.

“Well enough,” Carewyn said softly.

When they broke apart, Percy was smiling a bit more fully.

“It is good to see you, Carey,” he said, his faintly pompous voice nonetheless incredibly sincere, “though I’m afraid I’ll have my own ship to run now...”

Carewyn smiled proudly. “I wouldn’t have it any other way. A Commodore needs a talented Captain in his fleet.”

‘I know how long you’ve dreamed of moving up the ranks. Even if the Navy isn’t what it should be...I’m glad that you’re living your dream, Percy.’

Percy’s brown eyes softened, clearly touched. Before he could say anything, however, a familiar, aloof voice interrupted him.

"A Commodore does indeed need a talented Captain...”

Both Weasleys turned to Cutler Beckett as he stepped down onto the deck of the Dutchman beside them. His small eyes were locked firmly on Carewyn.

“...as does the Admiral of the fleet.”

He materialized a folded letter and held it out to Carewyn. Her eyebrows furrowed as she opened it, before her eyes widened upon its contents and the royal wax seal at the bottom.

“I’d already had this prepared ahead of time, prior to your departure from Port Royal,” said Beckett with a cool smile. “I wrote to the King of how impressed I was with your dedication, ingenuity, and talents, and he was most pleased. When I requested you to be at the head of my fleet for this upcoming venture, he agreed immediately. Upon receiving Madam Rakepick’s letter about you initiating the search for the Tower Raven’s old fleet and using one of their own ships to guide us to our target...I knew that my faith had been more than warranted.”

His eyes narrowed slightly over his cold, satisfied smile.

“Congratulations...Admiral Carey Weasley.”

The “honor” the King had bestowed upon her, if one could call it that, made Carewyn feel ill for multiple reasons. Not only did she truly not, NOT want to fight the Pirate Lords and whatever ships they gathered together, but she knew that she had largely gotten the position thanks to the effort of Rakepick -- who had for whatever reason credited Carewyn for following the Phoenix rather than taking credit herself -- and Beckett -- who Carewyn didn’t trust as far as she could throw him, but couldn’t figure out why exactly he had so much “faith” in her. Was she truly that good of an actress to completely fool him? She wanted to think so -- and yet the way he looked at her, not unlike how Rakepick looked at her, spoke of him knowing something she didn’t. Sadly Percy, even if he had seemed legitimately troubled by the hangings in Port Royal, was not distrustful enough of Beckett to express anything but pride in Carewyn’s accomplishment, so Carewyn couldn’t talk to him or anyone else about her suspicions.

When she confronted Rakepick about what she wrote to Beckett, the older woman’s response was oddly coy.

“I already told you you don’t belong on this ship,” she said, her dark blue eyes locked firmly onto Carewyn’s with a murky emotion she couldn’t quite identify. “Now that you’re Admiral, you’ll have more power to command your own ship, overlooking the Dutchman as well as the rest of the fleet.”

Carewyn’s eyes narrowed. “So you wrote that so I’d get off the Dutchman?”

Rakepick’s eyes narrowed slightly too, becoming more solemn. “You heard Lord Beckett -- he’d already planned this for you in advance. Although my reasons are different from his, I’m more than willing to play along with his whims, if it means I get what I want.”

“And what is it you want, Rakepick?”

Rakepick’s red lips curled up into a cool smirk. “Now, Admiral...one can hardly expect a lady to answer such a personal question.”

Not long after confronting Rakepick, Beckett summoned Carewyn to his cabin on his flagship, a Man O’ War called the HMS Lion. Unlike any of their previous meetings in his office, Carewyn found the cabin completely empty except for Beckett when she arrived -- in the past, Percy or Rakepick had been there too, as well as one or two employees of the East India Trading Company. It gave her the feeling that Beckett wanted this meeting to be more private than the others, which gave her a terrible sense of foreboding.

“You wished to see me, Lord Beckett?” she asked, once she’d finished saluting him.

“Yes,” said Beckett.

He was sitting behind his desk, which once again had a map laid out with different model soldiers and ships littered all over it. There were also seven Piece of Eight coins lined up in a neat little row -- he was once again playing with the eighth, rolling it along his fingers lackadaisically.

“Word has come from Shipwreck Cove, from the so-called ‘Pirate King,’“ he said, his eyes on the coin in his hand. “She wishes to rendez-vous on a tiny island on the far side of Shipwreck Island at sunset tonight, a ways away from the Cove. No weapons -- just talking.”

Beckett’s eyes flickered up to Carewyn’s face almost critically.

“...The Pirate King...signed her name as ‘Captain Jules Weasley’ -- so she’d be an old flame of yours, would she not?”

Carewyn stiffened slightly. ‘Jules is the Pirate King?’

She covered up her surprise quickly, her blue eyes narrowing.

“Miss Farrier -- pardon, Mrs. William Weasley -- never commanded any affection from me. Although her father bid she court me, her feelings were always for my brother -- so much so that she followed him into piracy.”

Beckett’s lips spread into a cold smile. “Then it’s as I surmised. Governor Farrier expressed frustration that his daughter had not managed to ensnare your heart, as opposed to your older brother’s -- especially considering how much she seemed to enjoy your company...”

Carewyn could not figure out what Beckett was trying to suss out from this conversation and it troubled her greatly -- so she put on her best, coldest expression and lied through her teeth.

“Whatever woman I respected in the past is dead, now that she’s an enemy of the Crown,” she said harshly. “I know no ‘Captain Jules Weasley’...nor do I wish to.”

Beckett’s smile did not shift in the slightest. If anything, his small, dark eyes flickered in something almost like triumph.

“I understand your sensitivity to the matter. You truly do love with all of your heart, don’t you, Admiral Weasley?”

Carewyn’s eyebrows knit tightly over her eyes in confusion, but she did not reply. Beckett put the Piece of Eight coin down in the row on his deck and rose from his chair, moving over to the decanter of red wine on the side table so he could pour a glass.

“I saw you with Captain Weasley, before you left Port Royal -- and of course, your reunion on-board the Dutchman, earlier today. I also heard quite a few interesting rumors circulated among our prisoners from Tortuga, speaking of your honor and the respect you showed them despite their criminal status...even moving a woman into a cell with her husband without being asked, if I’m not mistaken...”

His voice was very aloof and was tinged with a bizarre fascination, like an entomologist might have for a rare butterfly he’d pinned to his wall. Carewyn felt like her heart was being squeezed, but she dare not say anything.

Beckett finished pouring out two glasses of wine and put down the decanter so he could pick up both glasses.

“It’s not something I’m familiar with, that kind of concern for others.”

He offered the glass of red wine to Carewyn, his eyes boring into her face. Carewyn kept her face as blank as she could even though she could feel the blood leaving it as she took the glass of wine from him, but did not drink it.

“...I did not mean to displease you, Lord Beckett,” she said lowly.

Beckett’s eyes flickered again with that strange satisfaction as he took a sip from his glass of wine.

“On the contrary -- it’s only appropriate, for a woman to have a gentle heart.”

Carewyn stiffened sharply.

‘No. No, no, no -- !’

It was one thing for Rakepick to find out, but Beckett to know -- did Rakepick tell him? No, she said she wasn’t really doing any of this for Beckett -- should she deny it, Carewyn wondered? But if she did, and he caught her in a lie, could that make it worse -- ?

Her hesitation made Beckett’s eyes gleam with greater satisfaction than ever.

“Then I was right,” he murmured. “I admit, I wasn’t sure. True, your voice is higher than one normally hears and you’re smaller than most, but I know first hand that means nothing. And your military record...had it not been for me having met and employed Patricia Rakepick previously, I would never have believed a woman could be so skilled in battle and strategy, nor so aggressive. But when Captain Weasley expressed such interest in me having hired a woman, and even went out of his way to bring it up to you...my interest was peaked. All the more so when I found out how truly useful you are, as an officer.”

Carewyn felt like she was drowning in horrifying, icy cold water. Beckett knew she was a woman -- he knew she was a woman, and could tell anyone about it, if he so chose. She’d not only lose her position -- the one thing that she had left that she could use to protect Jacob, Orion, Bill, Charlie, and Jules...but she’d be cast out in disgrace, leaving her with nothing -- possibly taking Percy along with her for having kept her true gender a secret --

Her blue eyes had drifted down to the floor absently, but were not focusing on anything.

Yet...Beckett had said nothing of his suspicions to anyone. True, he hadn’t known for sure...but why would he recommend her to the King as an Admiral, if he’d suspected?

And then it hit her.

She bowed her head, casting her eyes into shadow as she put down her untouched wine glass on the side table.

“...What do you want from me, Lord Beckett?”

Beckett raised his eyebrows but did not respond.

“You very easily could’ve gotten both Percy and me cast out of the Navy in disgrace,” she said, keeping her voice low in an attempt to try to keep it steady, “yet you’ve kept me and even helped get me promoted, presumably because I’m so ‘useful.’ What use do I have, for you?”

Beckett gave her something of a patronizing smile as he stepped forward, coming up right in front of Carewyn so that his chin rested just shy of her shoulder and he could look at her face out the side of his eye.

“Isn’t it obvious? You are an excellent Naval officer -- a leader and inspiration to those who serve under you. You’re world-renown for your honor, your courage -- your passion. You prompt people to fight with you -- for you -- with a loyalty that even the King of England himself cannot boast. Were you a man, you would be someone I’d be very threatened by, indeed. But since you are a woman...I can appeal to your heart.”

Carewyn could feel his breath sliding past her ear and she couldn’t help but cringe. She stubbornly refused to look him in the eye, keeping her gaze firmly on the floor.

“I’m afraid my disinterest in the once-Miss Farrier was not a one-off thing, Lord Beckett,” she said very dryly. “Romance is not something I think about very regularly.”

Orion’s face rippled over her mind, making her heart ache. Oh, if he were there, in that room -- the thought of him seeing her letting herself get pushed around by the man who’d branded him and sent the Navy after him for piracy...it made her feel ill.

Beckett’s lips curled up in a slightly tighter, almost miffed smile as he pulled away just enough that he was facing the wall behind her rather than looking at her face.

“...Oh...no, Admiral...you misunderstand me. I know I own no part of your heart...but Captain Weasley, he most assuredly does.”

Carewyn’s head shot up so she could look at him, her expression stricken despite herself.

“Your younger brother is not nearly as useful as you, but he has shown great dedication to me, since I threw him a bone and ensured his promotion. It’s a loyalty I hope that you will likewise show me...especially considering that both you and he have been given access to information that few others have been...and that I would do just about anything to ensure doesn’t become common knowledge...”

Carewyn stared at Beckett, her shock giving way to cold hatred.

“So that’s it,” she murmured. “You’ll hold Percy’s and my lives and livelihoods over our heads, to make sure that I don’t surpass you, somehow. How I don’t know, considering that the Navy is not part of the East India Trading Company, nor shall it ever be, but clearly you feel loyalty is something to threaten out of people, rather than earn -- ”

“The only thing one can really earn in this world, Admiral, is money, and therefore power,” Beckett cut her off sharply, “and I have no intention of losing either, now that I’ve earned both of which I’m owed!”

He turned to look Carewyn straight-on in the eye, their faces mere inches apart. Gone was any hint of attempt at gentlemanly poise -- there was a hard edge to his gaze, not unlike the way he’d looked at Jones, but because he was actually an inch or so taller than Carewyn, he seemed to relish the power he had looking down at her both literally and figuratively.

“You will use your talents to serve my interests,” he said under his breath, “and I, in return, will continue to reward you and your brother, by ensuring that your careers and lives flourish under me. It’s just good business.”

At sundown, Beckett and Jules met at the tiny island agreed upon. Jules strolled down the long, narrow beach toward the shoreline where they were to meet, Jacob on one side of her and Orion on the other. She’d originally wanted Bill with her, but McNully was able to persuade her that she’d look that bit more intimidating to Beckett if she arrived in the company of two of the most wanted pirate captains in the world, and even Bill had to agree. Jules was determined to stand between Jacob and Orion, though, considering that there was still a lot of tension between them.

Jules had been furious with Jacob, when she’d learned about the deal he’d struck with Davy Jones. Even if he’d originally planned to give Jones “a Cromwell” as in Charles or Blaise Cromwell -- two objectively bad people who had been largely responsible for Carewyn and Jacob’s abusive, unloving childhoods -- Jules was also confident in thinking that Carewyn would be horrified, knowing that Jacob was willing to enslave another person to Davy Jones, just to find her. Jacob refused to feel guilty for that, but he clearly was destroyed by the knowledge that his choice had put Carewyn in so much danger. It was apparent from the way he talked about it and the way his hands and shoulders shook with silent sobs that Jacob would’ve sacrificed himself a hundred times over, if it would guarantee Carewyn wouldn’t be harmed.

Orion, by contrast, hadn’t said a word since Jacob told them what was going on. Throughout the entire conversation, he’d had his hands clasped tightly in front of him and kept his gaze downcast, even taking time to close his eyes for long periods of time as if he were meditating. Despite his silence and his detached affect, his usually stoic expression and unsteady breathing betrayed genuine anxiety. At one point, Bill brought a hand onto Orion’s shoulder to try to comfort him, and Orion actually subconsciously smacked his hand away.

“I’m sorry,” said the Captain quickly, his voice very hushed and tense as he closed his eyes and took a deep breath through his nose. “Just...please, don’t touch me.”

Bill, Charlie, and Jules all thought they could guess how Orion was feeling. Although the others had forcefully shot down the idea that Orion was the least bit responsible since he couldn’t have known the consequences of calling Carewyn by her real name, their words had done little to soften the Pirate Lord’s brow. If Orion’s past behavior hadn’t been indicative of how deeply he felt for Carewyn, then the way he clasped anxiously at his own hands and shut himself off from everyone else at the thought of her being doomed to spend the rest of her life trapped on board the Flying Dutchman made it crystal clear.

“Orion’s always valued his own freedom more than any kind of loot,” McNully murmured to the three Weasleys under her breath, “more than anything, really. And if he cares about the Commodore so much...”

“...He probably couldn’t bear it, if she lost hers,” finished Charlie, bowing his head and closing his eyes as they welled up with pain and righteous anger.

As Jules, Jacob, and Orion approached the shore, they caught sight of three people standing in the distance. The man in the middle dressed in black Orion identified as Cutler Beckett. On his left was an older woman as tall as Orion with hair as ginger red as Bill and Charlie’s that Jacob immediately recognized as Rakepick...and on his right was Carewyn, dressed in a new yellow-trimmed navy blue uniform and a black tricorn hat.

The three pirates stopped five feet away from the Head of the East India Trading Company and his two female companions, a notable sting of tension prickling at the air. Jules tried hard to keep her focus on Beckett, but her eyes were drawn to Carewyn despite herself. Although her friend faced Orion -- the person directly in front of her -- with a hard, stoic expression, she looked so pale. When Jules glanced over, she noticed out the side of her eye that Orion’s unreadable gaze was also locked on Carewyn, even as he took deep breaths through his nose and his hands clenched absently at his sides.

“Well, well,” said Beckett, his eyes narrowing darkly upon Orion’s face, “if it isn’t my old friend, Orion Amari.”

Orion glanced at Beckett out the side of his eye without turning his face away from Carewyn’s. Although his face remained rather calm, there was a faint edge to his soft-spoken response.

“...I did not think you were ever much in the market for friendship, Cutler Beckett...considering it’s something you cannot buy.”

His gaze returned to Carewyn. Beckett glanced from Carewyn to Orion, his lips curling up in a very cold smile.

“Ah, yes -- you and Amari are old friends also, aren’t you, Admiral Weasley?”

“Admiral?” repeated Orion, taken aback despite himself.

“Yes,” said Carewyn, and although her response was very cold, her eyes pulsed with emotion that she attempted to obscure by glancing to the side in Jacob’s direction rather than straight at Orion. “By order of the King, as a reward for my work alongside Lord Beckett.”

Jules could see Jacob’s jaw clench out the corner of her eye. She too felt like her heart was being squeezed. Carewyn no doubt hated her promotion with everything in her, if it was something she’d earned chasing after them on Beckett’s orders. Still...Jules couldn’t express that flat-out, so she put on the strongest expression she could.

“...I suppose congratulations are in order, then.”

Carewyn flashed Jules a look. “I don’t want congratulations from you, Mrs. Weasley. Or should I call you ‘Your Majesty,’ now that you’ve started playacting as a royal?”

Jules’s lips came together tightly when she saw how broadly Beckett smirked. The small man’s reaction seemed to piss off Jacob too.

“You will show proper respect to the Pirate King,” he said with a fierce look at the Head of the East India Trading Company.

“Respect,” scorned Rakepick. “Is that a word you can even define, Black Jack?”

“As well as I could wring your neck, if I were allowed,” spat Jacob.

“I’m surprised your ‘Pirate King’ would want a man in her company who’s so comfortable threatening a lady’s life,” said Carewyn sharply.

‘Don’t start a fight with her,’ she thought desperately, praying that Jacob would be able to sense her intent even with the act she had to play.

Unfortunately Jacob, as smart as he was, was never the best at reading people’s emotions -- and so when his narrowed eyes shot to Carewyn, she could see a flicker of pain. She surmised that even if he clearly didn’t think she believed what she was saying, it hurt him beyond reason, to see her having to defend the woman who’d tried to kill him.

Orion, however, very quickly adapted to the new method of “conversation,” fixing Carewyn with a calm, but piercing gaze.

“And I’m surprised that a honorable officer such as yourself would be so comfortable in the company of those with no honor whatsoever,” he said.

‘You’re in danger,’ Carewyn surmised he was trying to say. Her eyes narrowed upon Orion’s face.

“I beg your pardon?” she retorted. “I fail to see how a pirate has any leg to stand on, speaking of honor.” ‘What are you trying to tell me?’

“Even I have more honor than a captain who would burn an entire settlement to the ground,” murmured Orion. ‘Davy Jones.’

“Jones follows orders, as do we all...something else a pirate wouldn’t understand.” ‘What about Jones?’

"Orders...from Cutler Beckett, or from you? From what I’ve heard, you were on the Flying Dutchman yourself -- hardly a place one would expect to find Port Royal’s greatest hero.” ‘You must get away from Davy Jones. Get off of the Flying Dutchman.’

Carewyn’s blue eyes narrowed a bit more. First Rakepick wanted her off the Dutchman, and now Orion? Yes, Davy Jones was dangerous, but at present she found him much less of a threat than Beckett...

“A true hero knows that his reputation comes second to the good of the others,” she said very softly. “As does a loyal officer.” ‘I can’t leave.’

Something in Orion’s dark eyes flinched.

“Your older brother will be very disappointed, to know you’ve sold your loyalty so cheaply,” he said just as softly.

Carewyn felt her heart clench. She knew he didn’t mean Bill -- and yet the thought of both her surrogate brothers and Jacob was a silent knife to her back. She didn’t dare look at Jacob for fear her strong facade would crack, so she kept her focus solidly on Orion.

“I would think given your own history with Lord Beckett, you’d know full well how valuable of an ally he is, ” she shot back quickly, feigning temper as best she could, “and how dangerous of an enemy, as well. Both I and the brother who chose to follow the law rather than spit in its face are certainly glad for his aid, in ending your reign of terror.”

‘I can’t leave, not with what Beckett has over me and Percy. And if I do leave, then you’ll be in more danger than ever...’

Her eyes bore into Orion’s fiercely as she begged beyond reason he’d understand.

“...You may tell William...that I am no Bedlam maid in need of saving.”

‘You can’t help me. I love you.’

Deep in the depths of his sparkling black eyes, Carewyn could see a flicker of desperation, almost like anxiety. Afraid that Beckett might notice the crack in Orion’s expression, or in her own at the sight of it, she quickly whirled on Jules.

“He is the one who should stand down,” she said, her voice hardening further in an attempt to obscure her emotions. “All of you should, unless you wish to face down an entire armada.”

‘There are 34 Man O’ Wars waiting out there for you,’ she hoped Jules would be able to discern. Even if she didn’t know an armada had that many ships, Jacob and Orion would.

Jules, to her credit, matched Carewyn’s act with her own cold gaze. “Don’t underestimate us, Admiral Weasley. Both the British Navy and the East India Trading Company have done that consistently from the beginning.”

“And now we have come to the end,” said Beckett smoothly. “Of you and the rest of your Brethren.”

The others all turned to look at him. He flashed Orion a look better suited to a cockroach before redirecting his gaze onto Jules.

“Tell your Court this,” he said in an aloof, condescending voice. “You can fight, and all of you will die...or you can stand down, in which case only most of you will die. I daresay the Governor could be persuaded to spare you from the gallows, if you threw yourself on his mercy...and if I were to be merciful enough to leave out your new position, in my correspondence with the King...”

Jules’s dark eyes flashed with hatred as she strode forward, coming to a stop two feet from Beckett so she could glare right into his face.

“There are few things I can tolerate less than cowards who resort to blackmail just to make themselves feel powerful.”

She didn’t look at Carewyn, but Carewyn could sense Jules was thinking of her, as she said this.

“We will fight. And you’d best hope that we will show more mercy than you would, in our place.”

The Pirate King turned on her heel and walked away. With some reluctance, Orion and then Jacob turned away and strode quickly after her, leaving the other three alone on the shore.

“So be it,” said Beckett with a cold smile.

Carewyn couldn’t look at Rakepick or Beckett at her side. Her gaze was solidly locked on the departing backs of her brother, friend, and love as they began to shrink into the distance.

She’d never been very good at relying on or having faith in others...but in that moment, more than anything, she knew all she could do now was put her trust in Orion -- in Jules -- in Jacob -- in Bill and Charlie and all of the other pirates on Shipwreck Cove.

‘Please...please, be careful. Please be safe.’

In that moment of helplessness, she felt her heart ache all the more, watching Orion walk away. She closed her eyes, trying to bring back the memory of him standing shoulder to shoulder with her on the Artemis -- of him lying in bed as she tended to him, when they were young -- but it was no use. The graveness of the situation was too dire even for escapism...

Carewyn clutched her own arms behind her back. They suddenly felt so much heavier...as if there really were manacles there she couldn’t hope to break.

‘...Please...please live.’

On the opposite side of the island, both Jules and Jacob noticed the silent tears that had streaked down Orion’s face...but none had the heart to address it as they boarded the jollyboat that would take them back to the Artemis and to Shipwreck Cove.

At the same time that the pirates and the leaders of the British Navy were meeting, Davy Jones had been left behind on the Flying Dutchman with Percy supervising the troops. Beckett thought that Jones was threatened into line by how many soldiers were still guarding his heart, but thanks to Carewyn, Jones knew that Rakepick had stolen and relocated it. Now that he didn’t know where his heart was at all, he knew he couldn’t afford to move until he’d found it again -- and with Carewyn likely leaving the Dutchman with her new position as Admiral, it was likely it’d take a while before she could smuggle him any more information she might acquire about that. For the moment, though, Jones had put that concern on the back burner, for the Dutchman’s arrival near Shipwreck Cove gave him the opportunity to catch up with the Phoenix.

As luck would have it, when Jones phased through the Dutchman and onto the Phoenix, the ship was largely abandoned, since the crew had all gone ashore to Shipwreck Cove. The only person remaining was a small woman with long white hair, looking out to sea over the deck. In her hand was a pretty silver locket in the shape of a moon, the lid of which was cracked open so that a sweet, tinkling music box melody played.

Chia Dalma closed the locket half-way through the song, her eyes closing sadly as she clasped the locket close to her chest. She straightened up in shock, however, when she suddenly heard the rest of the tune echoing from behind her. She whirled around, to be faced with a giant, hulking shadow with writhing tentacles sprouting out from his jaw, holding an identical locket in his claw. Anyone would’ve been terrified at the sight -- but Chia looked upon the figure with tears in her eyes.

“Finn,” she breathed. Her lips were curled up in a weak smile, just as they had been before, but the joy was stained with so many other emotions -- grief, shame, and regret.

Davy Jones regarded Chia critically as he took several plodding steps toward her. “You know I haven’t been called that name in years.”

Chia bowed her head. “Nor have I been called my true name in years.”

Jones tilted his head, trying to read her expression better now she was looking away from him.

“I had not expected to find you like this,” he said very lowly. “You’ve never taken on such a small shape before.”

Chia’s eyes flashed with righteous anger as she raised her head. “That’s because this form is one I did not choose to take. It was thrust upon me by the Brethren Court.”

Jones straightened up slightly. His eyes narrowed to slits.

“...Then they did not kill or trap you. They transformed you.”

His voice was as low and growling as thunder. Chia clutched at the sides of her arms with her hands, her gaze smouldering with resentment as she glared down at the deck.

“Oh, but they did trap me,” she said bitterly, “trapped me in this single form, which can’t do even half of what I should be able to. I’ve been able to use what power I have to slow down the aging process, but this body still feels pain. This body still feels strain, and weakness, and hunger, and exhaustion, and longing...”

Something rippled over her eyes -- something more ashamed and pained.

“...I never knew...how much time truly weighs on a human,” she murmured.

Jones’s expression grew much more grim. “An immortal such as yourself should never have had to learn that.”

“Should never have had to, yes...but...”

She looked up at Jones, her gray eyes pulsing with strength despite the pain rippling within.

“...why did you not tell me, how long ten years felt for you? I have felt those ten years several times over, trapped in this tiny, fragile, helpless body every single moment -- and it’s...it’s been torture. To know you took the job I gave you -- only coming ashore once every ten years, so you could help me with the burden of tending to the dead at sea -- when ten years feels like that, to you -- ”

Chia’s eyes flooded with tears.

“I gave you the position of ferryman because I wanted to spare you from death,” she whispered. “Because if I didn’t give you that role and give you some of my power, you would’ve died. I’d never thought that those ten years would feel so long -- drain you so much...”

Jones was quiet for a long moment. Then he brought up his claw to brush her bangs from her eye.

“It’s only natural that you saw things the way an immortal would. Time is no object to you -- ten years no doubt felt like a small price to pay, in the face of your life span. And...”

His eyes became a bit smaller.

“...it’s not exactly like I wanted to die and be separated from you either. Even though part of me always doubted you’d be there waiting for me, when I returned...even though I resented you for years because you weren’t there...”

A ghost of a smile flickered over his features.

“...I know I shouldn’t have expected you to see things as I have -- to change yourself to suit me. If you did...you wouldn’t be the goddess I fell in love with, would you?”

Chia smiled up at Jones, her eyes shining with tenderness.

“I tried to make it back to you,” she murmured. “When the Court transformed me, I tried so hard to get there, to reach you...”

She extended her hands, tentatively trailing them along his tentacled face. Jones seemed to tremble at her touch.

“I know of the danger you’re in, Finn,” said Chia seriously. “As long as Cutler Beckett has your heart, I know you’re beholden to him. But I have allies among this newest Brethren Court. If they convince the others to break my chains, as I’ve foreseen they will...then as soon as I am free, I will come for you. I will make sure you and I are never separated again...and I will make sure your captors suffer the consequences, for hurting the man I love.”

As her small white hands held his face, Jones’s face and frame suddenly began to morph. In an instant, the slimy texture, the tentacles clinging to his face, and his claw all vanished -- and there stood the tall, handsome pirate she’d fallen in love with so long ago.

Finn McGarry’s face broke out into a broken, soft smile. He stretched out his hand, caressing his love’s human cheek with more gentleness than his claw ever could have.

“Calypso...” he murmured.

Chia’s face broke out into a full smile as well. She knew she couldn’t permanently remove the fishy transformation, as it was something that had mutated Jones over the many years they’d been apart, due to his heartbreak and grief...but seeing him looking so much like his old self after so long...it made her currently human heart swell with love.

“Just as you gave me your heart, when you became captain of the Flying Dutchman,” she murmured, “so too will you always have mine.”

#hphm #hogwarts mystery #potc au #au #pirates of the caribbean #carewyn cromwell #patricia rakepick #jacob #jacob cromwell #orion amari #chiara lobosca #percy weasley #jules farrier #finn mcgarry #other people's mcs #my art #my writing #these drawings and especially the writing took longer than I expected #oh orion you and carey truly do think alike!! you're both so good at reading people and adapting to them!!#why can't you be together the way you should?? DX #look at finn and chia! they're perfectly adorable!#don't you guys wanna be adorable too??#also yes beckett is a complete arsehole #I see him LOVING the fact that he has a new 'pet' who can bite into orion for him #i see beckett harboring a similar kind of resentment for orion as he did for jack in the original films #even if orion was much younger when he became a pirate I see beckett being that little bit younger too #and more importantly orion as an adult ended up being even more of a thorn in beckett's side #all thanks to beckett effectively robbing orion of the freedom to do anything else with his life but be a pirate #don't get me wrong orion's adapted well to being a pirate but you do lose some freedom being branded that way too #the freedom needed to return to port royal and go searching for this girl you once knew without being arrested for example :<

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x-wing-junkie · 4 years

Text

Onward & Upward

Rating: Teen

Warnings: None

Tags: Alexsandr Kallus/Garazeb “Zeb” Orrelios, Garazeb “Zeb” Orrelios, Alexsandr Kallus, Airen Cracken, Hera Syndulla, Original Rebel Alliance Characters

Established Relationship, Kallus gets his own ship, based on a Star Wars Adventures story, probably going to be jossed soon,

Summary: As the Rebels search for a new home following the assault on Mako-Ta base, Kallus is given a new assignment.

Notes: Sequel to A Safe Haven!

I fully expect this to be proven wrong as soon as we get more Star Wars Adventures comics with Kallus and his crew in them, but damn it if I didn’t already come up with my own ideas before finding out there would be further stories.

The Lasana, as always, comes from Anath_Tsurugi’s brilliant mind.

Cross posted from AO3 to celebrate 200 followers!

Home One was a busy ship in the days after the Rebellion fled Mako-Ta base. Their retreat plans had been thrown into disarray by the arrival of Darth Vader.

Stormtroopers, even Death Troopers, could be handled. But how could regular Rebel troops hope to last against a Sith Lord?

They hadn’t been able to and they’d lost a lot of men in the trying, General Draven among them.

The Rebellion was in space, all crammed into Fleet ships while the Council debated a new base.

Kallus hoped it was news of such a base that made General Cracken, head of Intelligence, call him to his office, but he couldn’t be sure.

When Kallus entered the tiny office, Cracken – a middle-aged human with graying hair – was poring over a datapad, so Kallus stood by the door until he was acknowledged.

After a few minutes, Cracken looked up. Kallus saluted and then sat in the chair Cracken indicated.

“Captain Kallus, you’ll forgive me for running late,” Cracken said. “We’re just waiting for General Syndulla.”

Suddenly, Kallus felt like a child about to be chastised. He ran through his behavior for the last few months and couldn’t think of any way he’d offended someone. Ever since the battle of Scarif, he’d been serving as part of the Ghost’s crew, going on raids and scouting locations and other ‘in-the-field’ missions. It’d been an ideal setup, allowing him the freedom to leave the base frequently and feel like he was making a significant contribution to the Alliance while being able to share a bed and a life with Zeb.

He wouldn’t change anything.

Well, that wasn’t quite true. He chafed a little under Hera’s leadership – nothing to do with Hera herself, but Kallus had always been in command as an Imperial and he missed having the sort of authority an ISB agent wielded. He missed being in control of his own actions, his own missions, his own destiny.

A soft knock sounded and Hera slipped into the room. Kallus returned her smile, covering his nerves easily.

Hera nodded at Cracken and the general cleared his throat. “Captain, I assume you’re familiar with the Imperial Freighter we captured over Kile II?”

Kallus was indeed familiar with the ship. Zaarin’s commandos had taken control of it almost bloodlessly. “Gozanti-class,” he said. “Looks to be pre-Empire but modified for Imperial service.”

“You’re familiar with that class of ship, I understand.”

Kallus glanced at Hera, but her face betrayed nothing. “Yes, sir. I often flew or commanded one during my ISB days.”

“That’s what General Syndulla told me.” Cracken leaned forward on his desk. “Captain, you’re being reassigned.”

Reassigned? No! “Where am I needed, sir?”

“I’m granting you command of our new ship. You’ll need a crew. I’ll give you some leeway in selecting them, but you’re being assigned a protocol droid.” Cracken glanced up at Hera, who gave Kallus a soft smile.

“I’m keeping Zeb and Rex,” she said, “but you can pick almost anyone else.”

Kallus had known, in his gut, that Zeb wouldn’t leave Hera and Jacen anyway, but it hurt to hear he was being separated, even if it did mean his own command again.

“This assignment comes with a promotion,” said Cracken, pulling out a new rank tab. “Congratulations, Commander Kallus.”

Still trying to digest all the information being thrown at him, Kallus picked up the rank tab and nodded. “Thank you, sir. What sort of assignments can I expect?”

“You’ll be Fleet command, but most of your missions will come from Intelligence. I presume you don’t mind picking up the mantle of Fulcrum again?”

“I didn’t ever put it down,” Kallus said.

“Good. Then you’re dismissed, Commander. I’ll expect your crew transfer requests by the end of tomorrow.”

Kallus nodded and left in a bit of a daze. He wandered down to Home One’s main docking bay, where the newly-captured Transport 478 sat. Mechanics swarmed over it, removing carbon scoring and repainting the yellow and gray accents.

“Nice lookin’ ship, isn’t she?”

“Garazeb,” Kallus said, relief flooding his chest. “Did Hera tell you?”

“That you’re getting a promotion and a transfer? Yeah.” Zeb sounded just as enthused as Kallus was. He turned the conversation back to the ship, obviously a safer topic. “You know, she needs a new name. Something Rebellion-y.”

Kallus leaned into Zeb’s side. “You know what she kind of looks like?”

“Huh?” Zeb’s eyes narrowed as he peered at the ship. “She’s bigger ‘n the Ghost, that’s for sure. I dunno what else.”

“The paint job,” Kallus pointed out. “Yellow on top, gray on bottom. She looks like that meteorite from Bahryn. The one that kept us warm.”

“Mostly warm,” Zeb corrected. He cocked his head. “You’re right, she does. So what? Gonna name her the Meteorite?”

“Maybe. Maybe she needs a different name. Something the meteorite represented.” Kallus crossed his arms and thought. “Something to do with hope, maybe. Or warmth.”

“Ollirahnd Kasmera,” Zeb said after a few moments’ contemplation. “Means ‘Glimmer of Hope’.”

“‘Glimmer of Hope’,” Kallus repeated. He turned it over in his head a few times. “The Rebellion could use hope right now, I think.”

Zeb wrapped an arm around Kallus’s shoulder. “You think you can pilot this thing?”

Kallus scowled. “Garazeb, I’ll have you know I’m quite a good pilot. You just haven’t seen me fly much.”

“Oh? Better than me, are you?” Zeb grinned, pressing a kiss to Kallus’s temple. “I think we should test that.”

Huffing a laugh, Kallus replied, “In the simulators. I don’t want you crashing my new ship.”

Zeb gasped in feigned offense. “Alexsandr Kallus, are you implying I can’t fly a ship?”

“I know you’re a decent pilot,” Kallus said. “But you’re not a really good one. There’s a reason Hera doesn’t let you fly the Ghost, just the Phantom II.”

Zeb laughed. “Okay, good point.”

Kallus smiled, but said nothing. Slowly, his grin fell, becoming something sad and miserable. “I don’t want this,” he said. “I want to stay on the Ghost with you.”

“And I’d come with you if Hera’d let me, “ Zeb said. “But you’re a victim of your own abilities. You’re too good at this stuff. They saw you lead the commandos, they know you fly well.”

“I could refuse the promotion and position,” Kallus said. “Stay with you.”

Zeb stood there for a moment, obviously considering the idea. “No,” he said finally. “It’s where you’re needed. They were gonna split us up sooner or later.”

Kallus felt a jolt. “You’re not saying–”

“No!” Zeb said quickly. “No, I’m not saying we should split up. I’m just saying it was silly to believe we’d get to stay together the whole time.”

It wasn’t silly, Kallus wanted to argue. It was everything I was fighting for. “I suppose you’re right.”

“‘Course I’m right,” Zeb said, giving Kallus’s shoulders a squeeze. “Come on, it’s dinnertime.”

Zeb slid his arm down Kallus’s back and caught his hand so they could walk together to the mess.

The fare on Home One was not quite as varied as the food on Yavin IV had been, but it was edible and, most importantly, not a nutrient paste, so Kallus was happy with it. He picked out a few spoonfuls of promising-looking dishes and followed Zeb to an empty table.

Their table didn’t stay empty for long. Hera joined them, as did Zaarin, Kallus’s former roommate. The talk, of course, was all of Kallus’s promotion.

Hera seemed apologetic. “I’m sorry to see you two split up, but General Cracken was insistent.”

Kallus gave her a small, reassuring smile. “It’s really okay,” he said, even though it wasn’t. “It was bound to happen at some point.”

“So who’re you picking for your crew?” Zaarin asked, raking back his shaggy hair from his face. “You need a commando, right?”

“You want to give up command?” Kallus asked. “What will Orenth-2 do without you?”

“They’re planning on merging us with Major Lissiri’s unit,” Zaarin said. “So I’m history either way. Might as well go out and see the galaxy, not just battlefields.”

Kallus chewed his food, thinking. Did he really want to work with Zaarin? The man was a friend and they’d survived living together, but… well, Zaarin could be a bit grating. “Fine,” he said after a minute. “I’ll submit your name.”

“Great!” Zaarin leaned forward. “Now, if you really want to make me happy, you’ll ask that new elomin in Intelligence, too. I hear she’s killer with a Kyuzo petar.”

Everyone else at the table sighed. Zaarin’s penchant for aliens – especially aliens with horns, such as elomin – was well-known.

“Tell you what,” Kallus said. “If you can tell me her name, right now, I’ll ask her. But if she’s just ‘the new elomin…’”

“Mikal,” Zaarin answered quickly. “I do pay attention to that sort of thing, you know.”

“No, we don’t know that,” Zeb laughed. “Gotta say, I’m surprised.”

Hera grinned, too. “Looks like you’ve got two crew members already, Kallus.”

“Only if Cracken approves all the transfers,” Kallus said. “So Zaarin, you’re good with explosives and apparently this Mikal is good with melee weapons. I’m a good ranged shot. We have a droid. What are we missing?”

“You want a mechanic,” Hera said. “Can’t tell you the number of times I’ve found myself wishing we had one.”

“Hey!” Zeb protested. “I do that sort of work!”

Hera smiled. “You do and you do it well. But it’d be nice to have you in a turret while someone else works on the shields when they fail. I don’t want to have to choose where you go.”

Zeb leaned back in his chair. “Fair enough,” he said. He turned to Kallus. “Grab a verpine if you can. If not, grab Jaci.”

Kallus nodded. Jaci had never quite bounced back after losing her cousin and both her lovers so close together back on Yavin IV. Instead she’d thrown herself into her work, quickly becoming the most sought-after of the human mechanics. Kallus had a fond spot for her; she’d been one of the first people on Yavin to show him kindness. Perhaps a change would do her well. “If Daine lets her go,” he agreed. “Anyone else?”

Hera shrugged. “We got along with a group of five for a good while before Ezra joined us and I’m sure between you and Zaarin, you can smooth-talk your way out of bad situations one way or another.”

Kallus wasn’t sure if he should be offended or not. He’d use diplomacy if he could but Zaarin would probably flirt his way out of trouble.

And, knowing the bastard, it would work.

“All right. I’ll get those names to Cracken.” Under the table, Kallus reached out for Zeb’s hand, giving it a soft squeeze.

“So does this make us all Fulcrum agents, too?” Zaarin asked. “‘Cause that’s really good for–”

Hera cleared her throat and Zaarin stopped mid-sentence. Continuing as if Zaarin hadn’t been about to make a lewd comment, she said, “I think Kallus will be the only Fulcrum agent, although you can talk to General Cracken if you’re truly interested.”

Zaarin laughed. “No, I’ll let K handle that one. I was just curious.”

Kallus and Zeb shared a glance and the lasat rolled his eyes. “I think Kal and I need to go,” Zeb said. “Got stuff for him to do.”

Cheeks warm with embarrassment, Kallus let himself be dragged off back to the Ghost.

“Garazeb,” Kallus said, casting about for the right words. “Are you sure you’re all right with me taking this position? We’ll both be gone so often.”

“But you’re not gone yet,” Zeb reasoned. “We’ll worry about that when it happens.” He reached out and pulled Kallus close, into a deep kiss.

Kallus closed his eyes and focused on the kiss: the taste and tang of Zeb, the feel of lips and sharp fangs against his. They’d gone through so much to get to the point where Zeb felt comfortable kissing him, Kallus hated to do anything to mess that up.

Reaching behind him, he hit the door controls and pulled Zeb back into their cabin. “Ollirahnd Kasmera,” he murmured, between kisses. “You realize Glimmer of Hope is a terribly sentimental name?”

“So call it the Glimmer. Or the Kasmera.” Zeb shrugged. “Better ‘n Glowy Rock That Kept Me Warm.”

Kallus laughed and cupped Zeb’s jaw, running his thumb through the lasat’s bristly beard. “I do love you, Garazeb,” he said.

Zeb arched his brows. “Now who’s the sentimental one, Alex?”

“Only because you made me so.”

Zeb pushed Kallus back on the bed. “Guess I rubbed off on you the right way.”

“Something like that,” Kallus laughed again.

“Tomorrow we’ll get you moved into your new quarters and then break ‘em in properly,” Zeb said. “But you’re not leaving on that ship yet. We’re still together for tonight. And I have plans for you.”

“Plans?” Kallus grinned. “Show me.”

And Zeb did.

Kallus lay there after, wrapped in Zeb’s arms, running his fingers idly through thick purple fur.

Glimmer of Hope, he thought. The Glimmer. I can work with that.

He used to think there wasn’t the slightest bit of hope for both of them to make it through the war together, but Zeb’s steady belief in something better had wormed its way into Kallus’s heart.

Thanks to Zeb, he had more than just a glimmer of hope that there was something for them on the other side of this long war.

And that something was worth fighting for.

Worth living for.

#Susan writes stuff #star wars rebels #kalluzeb

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chick-from-nz · 4 years

Text

Paper, Scissors, Rank (Ch: 7)

CHARACTER/PAIRING: Modern!Carrillo x Army!OC (eventually)

WARNINGS: maybe some swearing, military slang, more military talk, spelling and grammatical errors. Flippy floppy points of view and tenses. Could be very OOC/AU for some. Carrillo may not be narcos accurate as this is an AU. Some OC x OC

AUTHORS NOTE: ok so idk how good this is, kinda just word vomited onto the page, tryna generate some emotion in there but lets see how it goes, thanks for reading peeps. I know I said I wasn't gonna post but middle of the night inspiration stuck so imma keep writing this

WORD COUNT: 3.2k

CHAPTER: 7 OF ?

TAG LIST(OPEN): @girlpornparadise @1zashreena1 @xxidontwikeitxx @nicke0115 @allalngthewtchtower @lettherebrelight

The drive to the teams new base of operations was by no means short. While still being on defence land they were nearly three hours away from the main base, located in a flat valley in the hills and surrounded by greenery and training equipment. Ash had been here once before during a cadets course many years ago with her father, but it was vastly different now. The house had changed drastically from what used to be multiple cabins to what was now a single stand alone one story place. However while the accommodation had changed the grounds had stayed the same. There was an assault course set up that flowed into the trees to the south of the house and there was a pool to the west of the house, all in all, it was nothing to complain about.

The house itself was relatively modern, having been rebuilt within the last few years or so. The entrance was sealed by heavy wooden doors that required a pin in order to access. Upon entry Ash took in the place, it was actually really nice. It was open plan living, the kitchen was directly to the right as you came in the doors, nice wooden benchtops and crisp new appliances. Directly in front of the breakfast bar sat the living room. Three nice couches surrounded a rather large square coffee table, laden with maps. The fireplace that the couches faced was made of a slate grey stone and sat underneath the rather large tv. To the right of the fireplace was a door that she had been informed led to the only bathroom in the house that held a shower, while to the left of the fireplace was the door to Ash’s room.

Across the small hallway was the Colonels room, which was attached to his office that was on the far end of the house. At the end of the small hallway was an open archway that, from what she could see, led to a gym. Stepping further into the house and left from the kitchen Ash noticed another two sets of doors. One that led to the boys room, containing four single military style pits and separate draws for each of them, while the second door opened up onto the workspace for them all, which had a door in the back right corner that opened up onto Carrillo’s office. All in all, Ash couldn’t find a single fault to the house, okay perhaps one bathroom to share was gonna be a little tough.

She was startled from her thoughts and exploring when Carrillo called out to her while making his way to his office. “There's some food in the fridge and everything is pretty easy to find so make yourself at home, the boys should arrive in around about five weeks. You’ve got the single room closest to the bathroom” Ash nodded in thanks and watched as he disappeared into the teams workroom, no doubt going to his office to work through the enlistment papers for the rest of the team. Ash didn’t waste much time going to her room, she could eat later when hunger eventually struck her, she was miles too tired from the drive here and sore from moving about so much. Her room was nice. A large double bed sat in the middle of the room encompassed by grey side tables, each sporting a small lamp. In front of the bed sat a tall set of drawers and a small bookcase. Very homely indeed, thankfully, cause god only knows how long the team would be confined to the house doing research and/or planning and training for future raids.

Ash barely gave herself any time to get changed, haphazardly pulling on an oversized shirt and a pair of comfortable gym shorts, before she all but launched herself onto her new bed, grunting in pain when her left side made contact with the bed a little too harshly . She moved onto her back sinking deep into the comfort of the mattress. The bed was like heaven for her after sleeping on either a creaky army pit or the ground for the last twenty some weeks. If this is what she had to look forward to everyday her enthusiasm for work was about to increase ten fold. The moment her head touched the pillow she was out like a light. Thankful for her own space and a bed big enough to move around on and toss and turn how she used to.

-------

As much as Carrillo enjoyed the rank he was and the respect that followed his name, the paperwork at this level was a nightmare. Especially due to the complaints Sinclair had lodged against him due to the incident ��at the base hospital. Having to describe in detail the events that occurred between that despicable man and the young officer a mere few rooms over made his blood boil, yet again. He was starting to understand the warnings that came with being posted here, apparently work affairs between ranks wasn’t a condemnable act like it was back home in Columbia. An odd world indeed. Still, within his team he would not tolerate any kind of fraternization, hence his decision to cram the boys into one room together and give Greyson her own room, partly for her own privacy but also for his peace of mind.

Pushing the paperwork to the side of his desk, he sighed. That damn soldier might well be the best thing for the team but she sure came with some complications. He’d done extensive research into his team members upon his arrival to the base, most came from non-military backgrounds, a solid high school education or higher, and most but not all had been serving for at least four years and had seen some kind of fire fight. Then there was Greyson. Military background with files upon files that had been redacted and unable to be accessed by anyone in the force, no matter how hard he’d tried. Only the most basic of information could be found about the young soldier; graduated school with honors and received many scholarship proposals but turned them down, participated in many extracurricular activities before and after her education, applied to join the army as both a regular soldier and an enlisted officer as her father had served but yet again, any information surrounding him and his career or rank had been redacted. A Lot of mystery surrounded this soldier, a mystery the Colonel found himself wanting to solve, even if it did go against his own rule.

------

When Ash awoke the room was bathed in light from the full moon outside, the sounds of the bush were a welcome homely feeling for her, nature was her comfort. She went to sit but was struck with immense pain. Both her stab wound and head injuries were sending waves of pain throughout her body, making her vision temporarily blurry. The need to puke was high but Ash pushed it down as far as she could. She was hungry, in pain and now cranky, she just hoped her medication would be easy to find in the kitchen. Stumbling like a newborn deer she tried to shake the dizzy feeling from her head, this concussion was a pain in her ass, but the medics did say the symptoms should be gone within the next few weeks, until then Ash would have to put up with feeling sick and dizzy sometimes. Celebrating when she finally made it to the kitchen without falling on her ass, she then struggled to find the lightswitch, now that was one thing she really should have paid attention too when scouting the house when they arrived.

Having located the switch and turning on the lights she winced, they were just that tad bit too bright for a tired concussed brain. It was when she turned to grab a glass of water to quench her thirst that she noticed a glass already laid out on the bench, with what looked like her meds already measured out beside it and a note beneath the glass. Either she was hallucinating or the stoic Colonel had laid this out for her. Gripping the bench as tight as she could as another wave of nausea overtook her sense she moved closer to the glass, there were her meds. Perfectly placed atop a piece of paper that was covered in a rather elegant script. Each pill had the name and the purpose written next to it and at the bottom of the note were the words “Dinner is in the fridge, eat first. That's an order”

Ash scoffed a little at the note, of course he’d write that, seemed the man was more by the book than she thought. She was silently thankful for his detailed note explaining her meds, if she had to pick them from the bottle she wouldn’t have known what to take. Opening the fridge and grabbing out the only covered plate she was surprised to find that the meal looked home cooked, Did this man really cook dinner? . It was safe to say she was shocked by the thought but proceeded to microwave her dinner anyway, leaning against the bench to keep herself upright, lest the Colonel come into the kitchen later in the day and find her sprawled out on the floor.

Ash all but devoured the food when it was ready, not waiting for anything to cool down, she was far too hungry. She couldn’t remember the last time she ate, or the last time she ate this good. She never would have guessed that Carrillo was this good at cooking, like sure she’d guess he cooked, but this was some next level stuff. Finishing her meal and cleaning up any mess she’d made was an effort at best, the dizzy feeling was getting worse every time she moved. Quickly she gathered the pills from the bench and downed them in one gulp, chasing them down with water, she hoped at least one of them would help with the horrible dizziness and the nausea that accompanied it. The need to sleep was beginning to overtake her again, something she figured would be common while she was recovering, as much as that might annoy her she’d be thankful for the rest.

Like clockwork she yawned, stretching her arms above her head in an attempt to shake the sleep from her body, only to regret the motion a few seconds later. The stitches in her side had pulled impossibly tight at being stretched, her side felt like it was on fire. She reached down to grab her side in pain and pulled her hand away at the warm feeling. Glancing down she noted the rapidly growing red spot seeping into the gauze pad. Of course she had ripped her stitches, she'd been warned by not only the medics but also Carrillo to not move around too much due to her side. Seems she really hadn’t been listening to the warnings. Deciding that she was entirely too tired to deal with the result of her stretching Ash just walked as calmly as she could back to her room and clambered into bed. There was always tomorrow to fix this. And with that, Ash was quick to fall back to sleep, her medication no doubt aiding her plight.

------

It was the smell of freshly made coffee that had Ash climbing from her bed and shaking off sleep the next morning. Her medication had definitely kicked in, she could feel no pain from anywhere in her body and the nausea had disappeared finally. To her surprise, Carrillo was standing in the kitchen, dressed in a pair of grey sweatpants and simple white t-shirt that was entirely too tight, not the Ash was complaining cause the view from her vantage point was amazing. If Ash believed in a higher power she woulda thought that the gods had gifted her with the man standing in the kitchen. No man had the right to look so sinfully delicious in a simple white shirt like that. It was so tight that it clung to his sculpted upper body and left very little to the imagination The thin shirt was stretched thin across his chest, pecs struggling to stay contained. The fabric was stretched tight across his broad bulky shoulders, his biceps straining against the confines of the sleeves that were sure to tear if he were to flex just the right way. He reclined against the bench facing her but was wrapped up with whatever was on the tv. Ash was obvious in her gawking so it was only a matter of time before his eyes fell to her. When they did, his eyes widened comically in shock. Ash wasn’t sure why until his eyes travelled down her frame and landed on her side before a look of realisation overcame his face.

He took a few quick paces towards her before turning to his right and disappearing into the bathroom with a look of determination on his face. Ash paid him no mind and made her way to the kitchen counter to pour herself a coffee before taking a long pleasant sip. It was a mere minute later that Carrillo was standing in front of her, a med kit laid out on the bench and an expectant look on his face. She looked at him long and hard before realising he was speaking, she gave him a questioning look, tilting her head to the side, before she heard him huff and repeat what he said.

“Greyson, I asked you to take of your shirt”

It was Ash’s turn to gape at him, the audacity of this man, why would the most by the book man she’d ever met be so unprofessional. “Excuse me?” the disbelief in her words made him roll his eyes, if she wasn’t so confused right now she probably would’ve gone off at him for that.

“I don’t know what activities you got up too last night, but you’ve obviously torn through your stitches, despite the warning from both the medics and myself” He said with a small amount of annoyance while pointing at her side. Now that Ash looked down she realised he was right. Blood had well and truly soaked through her bandage and through the shirt she wore to bed, She was unsure how she didn’t notice this sooner because now that she was seeing it with her own two eyes, it was pretty obvious.

Begrudgingly she pulled the shirt over her head, unsure as to why she had to take it off completely before coming to the conclusion that the shirt probably should be washed. She had a second to drop her shirt before Carrillo was standing a mere few inches in front of her, slowly peeling the bandage from her skin before inspecting her wound, Since when was he a medic?, that thought had her laughing silently, or so she thought. Being this close meant that he heard her laugh so she was met with a raised eyebrow and a bored expression on his face, that surely ended her laughter. She was silent while he worked, wincing occasionally when he prodded a little too hard to see her reaction.

“You’ll be fine if you rest for the next few days, you tore the bottom few stitches. Don’t do anything stupid and the wound will be healed on time” His tone was definitive and the order was clear.

Ash groaned and rolled her eyes, a brave thing to do this close to the man. He handed her a bandage then turned around to pack away the supplies from the kit. She quickly fixed the bandage and took off toward her room, coffee abandoned on the bench, she was well and truly awake now. New shirt now acquired and covering herself she returned to the main room, Carrillo now vacant from the space and probably in his office working. She snatched up the tv remote and flicked through the channels, settling on an old war movie before curling onto her side to relax.

She woke hours later, the movie long since ended and the daylight now darkness. A blanket had been draped over her in her sleep and her dinner was sitting on the coffee table with a glass of water and her medication beside it. She would forever be grateful for the subtle ways the Colonel looked after her, even if he would never admit to it. She at least knew he cared enough for his team that he’d go out of his way to make her feel comfortable and like she belonged, even if she was new to the force.

-------

Aside from the incident in the kitchen the rest of the week went pretty smooth. They’d developed some semblance of a rhythm. Both woke early, whoever made it to the kitchen first put the pot of coffee on and poured a cup for the both of them, conveniently they preferred their coffee the same way. Black with no milk or sugar. Then they usually sat at the kitchen counter to eat breakfast, cereal for Ash and whatever Carrillo cooked himself for breakfast, Ash really wasn’t one for a big meal in the mornings. After breakfast the Colonel usually disappeared into his office to work and the younger officer would clean up their dishes and then hog the shower for as long as possible, soaking in the opportunity to have a warm shower all to herself without limits. Ash would spend most of the day watching tv or reading one of the many military inspired books that occupied the wall mounted shelves on either side of the tv.

Carrillo would emerge from his office around sixteen hundred hours each day, and proceed to cook dinner for the both of them. Ash had tried once but burnt the steak and been deemed too inexperienced and untrustworthy in the kitchen, something she was silently glad for cause the Colonel was a better cook than she ever could’ve hoped. Again Ash did the clean up, a fair trade off for not cooking, while Carrillo once again disappeared, this time to the gym or for a run around the perimeter of the property along the treeline, a sight Ash loved to enjoy. Only twice he had stayed to converse or silently watch the news beside her. Then like clockwork they would bid each other goodnight and retire to their rooms.

Everything was going perfect, the routine now something established and easy to work through, even if Ash did complain about being on couch/bed rest until either the medics cleared her or the Colonel deemed her fit enough to begin easing her way into training. It wasn’t until the Wednesday of their second week together that something changed between them, something Ash looked back on with a smile on her face and made Carrillo have conflicted feelings and wish he had just stuck to their schedule they had so easily adapted to around each other.

#horacio carrillo #horacio carrillo x reader #horacio Carrillo x oc #paper scissors rank #modern au #chapter 7

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the-odd-job · 4 years

Text

Up in Flames chapter 4 - Cogs (Ashes Part 2)

Warnings: Major Character Death, Chose Not to Use Category: Other Fandom: Transformers Relationships: Megatron/Sunstreaker, Megatron/Sideswipe, Sideswipe & Sunstreaker Characters: Sunstreaker, Sideswipe, Soundwave, Skywarp, Rumble, Frenzy, Vortex, Onslaught, Thundercracker, Starscream, Swindle Additional Tags: Dubcon, Mechpreg, Sticky Words: 3144

( Previous )

“Ready?”

“Ready as we’ll ever be,” Sideswipe grinned back at Skywarp. The Seeker was standing respectfully right outside the door to their quarters, not stepping in because he hadn’t been invited.

Wasn’t everyone here just so polite. Though, a part of it might’ve just been self preservation instinct, if Skywarp possessed some of that. The twins had slagged him more times than anyone would care to count, so did he really want to give them a reason to do that again by overstepping his boundaries, or something?

Though that might be giving himself a bit too much credit, Sunstreaker thought. He knew he had a reputation, well earned one, but expecting the likes of Skywarp to take heed of it was just… A little too far out there.

So maybe the damned wing thing just had actual manners.

But he had promised them a tour of the Victory, and apparently they were going to get it. Skywarp nodded to Sideswipe’s agreement, then gestured them along and started down the hall. “This part of the ship has quarters in three decks and several hallways. This is the lowest deck of those. Seekers’ quarters are on the highest deck of the three, and combiner teams have the middle deck.”

“So we’re just kinda the… Overflow?” Sideswipe asked as they walked. Most of the Decepticon forces on Earth were either Seekers or combiners, with just the odd mech that didn’t fall into either category. They expected that the majority of the quarters around theirs were empty.

“Kinda, yeah,” Skywarp shrugged, but continued chipperly right after, “But don’t let it get you down! You’re as important as everyone else!”

Sideswipe laughed. Sunstreaker huffed. “More than, if we fought for Megatron,” he growled. Skywarp’s wings flicked, but he didn’t seem confused so maybe he got the point.

Point being that even Megatron had acknowledged they were some of the best warriors still alive. If they’d fought for Megatron… Pits, maybe they could’ve turned the tide of the war, at least here on Earth. The Autobots and Decepticons had been pretty evenly matched with them on the Autobot side. How would those scales tip now that they didn’t fight for the Autobots?

How would they have tipped if they’d started to fight for the Decepticons?

But that wasn’t happening. He might’ve been carrying the fragging warlord’s offspring, and that may have forced him to desert the side he’d fought for the length of the war so far, but that hardly meant he held any loyalty for the mech, or had any desire to risk his life for him.

Even if it meant they didn’t get to fight.

Who knew, maybe their desire to battle would eventually win over, and they’d fight for Megatron just to get to fight.

But on waiting for that day…

Instead of going up the ramps like they’d half expected, Skywarp instead took the ramp down.

All the way down.

“This is the lowest level of the ship,” the Seeker told them as they came to the bottom of the ramp and were greeted with a hallway even more dimly lit than the rest. The air was musky, heavy with the scent of spilled energon and misery. “The brig is here, as well as Vortex’s, uh… Workspace.”

Torture chamber, in other words. The brothers shared a glance. They’d heard enough about the rotorflier who was a terror just on the battlefield—nevermind in a space where he was in absolute control and you were at his complete mercy.

You needed to be one big time masochist to find that fun.

“Seriously, you don’t want to end up here,” Skywarp said before he turned around and ushered them back up the ramp.

“Just the brig or..? ‘Cause we know brigs pretty well. They’re not so bad,” Sideswipe asked even as they climbed back up.

Skywarp snorted. “You’re lucky if it’s just the brig you get.”

Sunstreaker frowned, but it was Sideswipe who spoke up again, voicing their pulse of disquiet. “Wait, you mean we have to worry about Vortex too? Even though we’re on his side?” That was… A disturbing thought, to say the least.

But Skywarp confirmed it with a nod. “Megatron doesn’t mess around with punishments, is all. And Vortex enjoys it, so…”

…Right. Welcome to the Decepticons where you could get tortured by your own side! Wasn’t that just a cheery thought. What did that spell for them? Known troublemakers?

Sideswipe was hard at work reevaluating his priorities and the worth of making as much of a menace of himself as he’d been among the Autobots. The Autobot punishments were rarely that much of deterrents. They were all softies, and it showed in what they thought were appropriate repercussions.

Decepticons, from the sounds of it… Followed more in the footsteps of the Pits. It made sense. Many of the Decepticons at the start of the war had been Pit fighters. Didn’t it pretty easily follow that the mannerism and culture of the Pits would travel over? Punishments included?

And they knew a thing or two about the kind of punishments the Pit masters had thought appropriate.

Sideswipe was chewing on his lip thoughtfully, but when they got to the top of the next ramp, there were others who were headed for it.

A certain rotorflier and his team leader.

But they were the ones to step out of Skywarp’s way, rather than the other way around. That was… Surprising. Although, Skywarp was trine to the Second in Command. Did that make him rank higher than even Onslaught?

Pit if he knew, but he got the impression that the Decepticons were pretty serious about pecking order.

Vortex’s rotors were twitching in a way that looked a lot like amusement. Sunstreaker glared at him, and they twitched harder.

Onslaught, meanwhile, inclined his helm at them. “Allow me to properly welcome you to the Decepticons, Sideswipe, Sunstreaker.”

“Thanks?” Sideswipe hazarded, and was Onslaught amused now too? Slaggit but why did everyone need to be wearing both visors and masks? Just one of those wasn’t enough? Had to hide your expressions entirely? If they hadn’t bothered to control their fields at least, but neither Vortex nor Onslaught was letting a hell of a lot be read.

The Combaticon leader landed his attention squarely on Sunstreaker next, that much he could tell just by where his face was directed. “Defecting was a tactically solid maneuver, let me say. I congratulate you for the smart move.”

Sunstreaker frowned. Tactically solid? Smart move?

Had he had any other options?

“Are you teasing me?” he growled, rounding in on the tank. Skywarp’s wings flicked up and he glanced at Sideswipe, but when Sideswipe didn’t react, Skywarp seemed to relax a bit too.

And yeah, maybe this wasn’t a smart move, antagonizing Onslaught of all mecha. He didn’t have a lot of chances of winning against him in a fair fight.

Maybe if he glitched..?

Something to consider.

But Onslaught didn’t take offense. In fact, his field, this time, actually flared with amusement that he didn’t bother hiding.

Sunstreaker snarled louder. “Stop being a fragging coward and show your face. Let’s see what kind of a slagging smile you’re wearing under that mask.”

“Feisty,” Onslaught commented. “I can see why Lord Megatron likes you.”

“I really don’t give a frag about how much Lord Megatron likes or dislikes me,” Sunstreaker growled back, his servos balling into fists. Just where should he hit to make the biggest point? He couldn’t reach Onslaught’s face, although cracking his visor would have been greatly satisfying.

“Maybe you should,” the tank rumbled back, never losing that damn amusement. “You’re protected as long as you remain in his good graces, but what of if you don’t? You refuse to fight for him. What good are you short of an entertaining berth toy?”

Crotch. That’s what Sunstreaker chose to hit. Onslaught’s interface cover dented pleasantly under his fist, and although the tank didn't make a sound, he jerked in surprise.

Good enough.

Skywarp made an alarmed sound behind him, but Sunstreaker stared up into Onslaught’s visor without a trace of fear. The red band flashed at him, but Onslaught straightened without returning the gesture. “Hm. Prove me wrong, won’t you, Sunstreaker?”

With that the tank turned to leave. Vortex was chortling, wiggling his digits at them in parting. “Do make sure to come to visit me at some point, twins. We’ll have so much fun,” the rotorflier giggled before following after his team leader.

“Man,” Skywarp breathed once the two were well out of sight. “You have a spine of steel, Sunstreaker? You know he could probably slag you.”

“I’m aware,” Sunstreaker growled. Sideswipe stepped over and wrapped his arms around his shoulders, grinning like a lunatic.

“That’s Sunny for you! More anger than good sense,” his twin giggled like some cracked Vortex copy. Sunstreaker rolled his optics.

“Uh-huh,” was the sound Skywarp made, by all appearances not in disagreement.

They headed up the ramps next, and Skywarp pointed out the other hallways with living quarters, but didn’t turn to any of them. Instead he led the way down a different hallway. “I think you visited the repair bay already? It’s right over there, and this part of the ship also has labs and storage areas. Most of those are off limits without permission.”

Reasonable enough.

Higher still they went up a different set of ramps. “Here’s the offices,” Skywarp said as they turned a corner and nearly ran into Swindle. Their fellow grounder danced out of the way and a collision was avoided.

Then his brother and the damn swindler were already grinning at each other, bumping fists in greeting. “Sideswipe! My good friend, I was wondering when I’d see you around.”

Sideswipe laughed. “Riiiight. Don’t kid, you’re just sad you don’t have a contact in the ‘Bots anymore.

Swindle shrugged. “True, I feel like I lost a good business partner. Unless you’re still willing to strike some deals?”

“Now why would I?” Sideswipe grinned. “We’re on the same side now, ain’t we? If anything, we should start working together. Talk some humans out of their goods, eh?”

“Isn’t that a thought.”

Sunstreaker facepalmed as the two businessmechs started to talk money. If the Autobots had known Sideswipe regularly struck up deals with Swindle… Well, they had never been the most loyal ‘Bots there were. And it wasn’t as if Sunstreaker hadn’t benefited from that. Both Swindle and Sideswipe were rather proficient at procuring goods for entirely unfair prices. Sunstreaker had gotten quite many things for himself thanks to what the two could accomplish.

And now they wanted to work together.

The humans wouldn’t know what hit them.

“Let’s talk more when you have the time,” Swindle said in parting, and Sideswipe gave him a thumbs up before they set to follow after Skywarp again.

“You did deals with him even when you were Autoscum?” Skywarp asked curiously.

“Ayup!” Sideswipe confirmed, a bit proudly. “And no one ever found out.”

“Cool.” Was the Seeker a little impressed? Well, he had reason to be. Semi-regularly going behind the command’s back without them ever becoming none the wiser to what Sideswipe was up to… Yeah, that took some guile.

“Anyway, you were in the rec room already, it’s right here. Entrance to one of the engine rooms is down that hall. And up here–”

Another ramp up, partway down the hallway, “–Is the comms room. You were here too already, right?”

“We were,” Sideswipe confirmed, but they peeked in anyway. Soundwave was present, not much of a surprise there.

But so were Rumble and Frenzy, and the two looked up and waved at them cheerily. “‘Cons didn’t have enough twins already!” Frenzy cackled at them.

“How’s the Megadick?” Rumble asked, and then both of the nutjobs laughed even harder.

“Pretty good. You’d die from it,” Sunstreaker commented, giving a meaningful look at the cassettes small stature.

“Sure would!” Frenzy agreed.

“How about you?” Rumble asked, this time clearly addressing Sideswipe, and still grinning like a total loonie. “Gotten a taste of it yet?”

Sideswipe sighed dramatically. “Nope, I’ve been denied. Maybe one day, though!”

The smaller set of twins laughed even harder, and seriously, did they find absolutely everything hilarious?

“Rumble. Frenzy. Return,” Soundwave spoke up, and Sunstreaker could’ve sworn he was beyond exasperated despite the flatness of his field and voice.

“Aw, but boss–!”

“Return.”

The two grumbled but nevertheless did as they were told. Soundwave opened his chest for them and his symbiotes folded into their altmodes and entered. The TIC’s chest compartment closed tightly after, and he went back to work without another word.

Righty.

Skywarp snickered before the led the way further. “Here’s Megatron’s throne room–”

“Seriously?” Sideswipe interrupted their guide at that, glancing at the Seeker incredulously. “He has one? I thought that was just a baseless rumor.”

Skywarp blinked at them, equally confused. “What, the Prime doesn’t have one?”

“Nooooo?” Sideswipe ventured, question marks practically dangling above his helm. “OP and thrones barely fit in the same sentence.”

“But… He’s the Prime,” Skywarp said—argued?

“ Yeah,” because that much was true, he was the Prime, “but like. He’s super big on being on the same level as everyone else,” Sideswipe responded. And wow, wasn’t here just a bit of a difference between the leaders of the factions. Not that they hadn’t known about it already, but… Throne room. An actual, legit throne room on a goddamn ship.

That really just drove the whole point home. Optimus wanted to be on an equal footing with his troops, as little as that worked because everyone still stupidly looked up to him, but Megatron? Didn’t seem to make any effort in that direction.

Rather it gave the impression that Megatron was very willing and even eager to establish himself as the sovereign ruler, and remind everyone that that was what he was.

“That’s weird,” Skywarp noted, and it sounded like he really meant that. Sideswipe shrugged. Maybe it was, maybe it wasn’t, but… Yeah. Optimus had never really been the most traditional Prime. Even the Decepticons had to know that much, but apparently they hadn’t realized just how true it was.

“Anyways,” the Seeker continued, coming to an open doorway. “Here’s the command center.”

Starscream and Thundercracker glanced up as they peered inside. It wasn’t too dissimilar from the Ark’s command center, just… Bleaker.

“Isn’t it the carrier,” Starscream sneered at them. Thundercracked shot his trinemate a disapproving look that the Winglord entirely ignored.

“Isn’t it the screechybird,” Sunstreaker returned, smirking at the way Starscream’s wings hiked up in offense.

Starscream didn’t entirely take the bait, though. “You know he is just going to cast you aside after the sparkling emerges,” he said instead, looking back at his screen like he didn’t care.

But if he didn’t care, he would have shut his mouth. He didn’t, though. “You mean nothing to him.”

“I know,” Sunstreaker said, crossing his arms. “And he means nothing to me. How is that a problem?”

Thundercracker looked a bit surprised, although Sunstreaker couldn’t guess what for. Was it any secret he and Megatron were nothing more than a fling? They enjoyed each other’s frames, and now Megatron had added interest in him because of the new life he was nurturing, but that was it. That was all it had ever been.

And frankly, he had no interest in turning it into anything more than that. He was here because he had nowhere else to go, and who knew what would happen once he was no longer chained down by the sparklet in his frame, but he didn’t need Megatron in his future. The sparkling did, however.

And it was his sparkling too. He wanted it to have a future, and it would have one with its sire. Probably. Not that he knew what Megatron actually had planned for it.

Chances were it would be better than the alternatives, at least.

“It isn’t, I suppose,” Starscream conceded, still refusing to look at them. Skywarp stood to the side a bit awkwardly. Thundercracker was frowning, as was Sunstreaker.

Sideswipe didn’t look to have a care in the world, as he rarely did.

“Then we’re not in disagreement,” Sunstreaker said, and walked off back the way they’d come.

“Drop it, Star,” he could hear Thundercracker say over an aggravated whine of thrusters that probably belonged to Starscream. Sideswipe followed him, and after a pause, so did Skywarp.

“Thanks for the tour, ‘Warp,” Sideswipe said once they’d reached the intersection of the particular hallway, giving their guide an easy grin.

“You’re welcome!” Skywarp chirped back, apparently putting the command center incident behind him already.

Sunstreaker had a question, though. “Is there something between Megatron and Starscream?”

“Huh? Oh, no,” Skywarp answered with a shake of his helm. “I mean, they interface sometimes, like’s only natural, but there’s not like, feelings there or anything.”

“So he’s just an asshole for the sake of being an asshole, and not out of jealousy?” Sunstreaker cocked an optical ridge.

“You’re kind of an asshole for the sake of being an asshole too, aren’t you?” Sideswipe snickered at him. Skywarp tried hard not to smile, but Sunstreaker wasn’t about to take offense. That was the truth, wasn’t it?

But when Skywarp answered him, it was with, “I’m not gonna say he’s not jealous, but he just doesn’t like sharing attention, and you have a part of Megatron’s attention now.” The Seeker shrugged, with wings and shoulders both. “It’s not ‘cause he’d have feelings for Megatron or anything like that.”

“With how poorly Megatron and Starscream get along during battles, I’d have thought he’d be pleased to not have all of that attention on him anymore,” Sideswipe said, tilting his helm.

“They don’t get along, but they’ve got this… It’s weird,” Skywarp tried to explain, gesturing with his servos without much clarifying anything.

“It’s weird, gotcha,” Sideswipe nodded. They absolutely did not get it, but sometimes relationships fell in a weird, unexplainable area. If they got to observe it some, maybe they’d get it eventually.

Skywarp opened his mouth to say something, but he was interrupted. “Skywarp!” Starscream’s voice came from the command center. The purple Seeker straightened and glanced that way, before giving them an apologetic smile. “You’ll find your way back, right?”

“Yeah, we will,” Sideswipe smiled back, shooing him off with his servos. “You go see what Screamer has for you.”

Skywarp snickered, but bid them goodbye and jogged back down the hall. The twins stood in place for a while before Sideswipe shrugged and headed back towards the ramps. Might as well hit the rec room, not like they had anything better to do. Besides, wouldn’t it be fun to get to know their so called comrades some more?

Sunstreaker wasn’t so sure about that, but agreed to the plan regardless.

( Next )

#transformers #maccadam #sunstreaker #sideswipe #skywarp #starscream #thundercracker #swindle #soundwave #onslaught #rumble #frenzy #vortex #fic #2020 #up in flames #ashes

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r6shippingdelivery · 4 years

Text

OTP Question Meme!

I was tagged by the wonderful @simonxriley, thanks! 💜

Tagging: @mirrorworldangel @krystlandotherstuff @painfulstitches17 @grain-crain-drain @retrodisaster @glitchky and anyone who wants to do it! Be warned that it is pretty long tho, so don’t feel obligated to do it if you don’t want to.

(art comissioned to the amazing @aonghus-the-highlander)

Timur “Glaz” Glazkov x Maxim “Kapkan” Basuda

DISAGREEMENTS

Who is more likely to raise their voice? None/both? Whoever is feeling more agitated at the moment, although it usually is a small outburst and not consistently yelling at the other.

Who threatens to leave but never actually does? Neither.

Who actually keeps their word and leaves? Kapkan, sort of. He doesn’t threaten to leave, he just needs to leave and have some time alone in the middle of nature after a difficult argument, to think on it and put his ideas in order.

Who trashes the house? Because of an argument? Neither. Although Glaz might have trashed the house one time Kapkan got seriously injured, as in Doc wasn’t sure he’d make it through the night.

Do either of them get physical? No, never.

How often do they argue/disagree? Bickering and small disagreemenets are common, serious arguments are rare.

Who is the first to apologize? Whoever feels more guilty for how they acted, which usually is the one in the wrong (once they realise that).

SEX

Who is on top? Depends on the position, but if you’re asking who is The Top, that’s Glaz.

Who is on bottom? Look at the previous answer.

Who has the strangest desires? Kapkan thinks it’s him, but nah, he’s just a bit repressed.

Any kinks? Bondage, marking/biting, dirty talk, discipline.

Who’s dominate in bed? They like to “fight”/rough house for it, although eventually Kapkan will gleefully give up control.

Is head ever in the equation? Yes.

If so, who is better at performing it? Glaz, he has more experience.

Ever had sex in public? Sort of: in the base’s showers, and out in the woods while camping.

Who moans the most? Kapkan, he can get loud.

Who leaves the most marks? Both.

Who is the most experienced of the two? Glaz.

Do they ’fuck’ or ‘make love’? Depends on their mood.

Rough or soft? Middle ground, veering more towards rough most of the time.

How long do they usually last? Depends on the day and their stamina, but it’s not uncommon they’ll go for 2 rounds.

Is protection used? Not always.

Does it ever get boring? Nah.

Where is the strangest place where they’d had sex? At work, during training.

FAMILY

Do they plan on having children/ have children? Maybe, it’s not something they have considered in detail yet.

If so, how many children to they want/have? Both agree that at least they’d adopt two kids, three at most.

AFFECTION

Who likes to cuddle? Both do, even if Kapkan likes to pretend he’s just indulging Glaz.

Who gets naughty in the most inappropriate places? Glaz, he is a horny boy and likes to see if he can get Kapkan flustered. It’s difficult to do so, but he looks so adorable.

Who struggles to keep their hands to themself? Both, but mostly Glaz.

How long can they cuddle until one becomes uncomfortable? If they don’t fall asleep first, then around an hour or so?

Who gives the most kisses? Both.

What is their favorite non-sexual activity? Spending time together. They go camping pretty often, since it’s a multipurpose activity: Glaz paints the landscape, they hunt, they can be as loud as they want when having sex, etc.

Where is their favorite place to cuddle? Under the stars. The couch and bed are good too.

How often do they get time to themselves? Everyday probably? If they’re not sent on a mission, once they’re done with the training and maybe Kapkan tinkering with his gadget for a bit, they’re free to do whatever.

SLEEPING

Who snores? Both.

If both do, who snores the loudest? They’ll both say it’s the other.

Do they share a bed or sleep separately? They share.

If they sleep together, do they cozy up together or lay separately? They cozy up together, or more accurately, Glaz cuddles up to him and Kapkan oh so graciously lets him... although he’s the one who clings to Glaz when he tries to roll away. If the weather is really hot they’ll leave some distance between them tho.

What do they wear to bed? Just their boxers, sometimes nothing at all.

Are either of them insomniacs? Not really, although if woken up from a nightmare, Kapkan will have a hard time falling asleep again.

Can sleeping pills be found by the bedside? Nope, no sleeping pills.

Do they wrap their limbs around each other or just lay side by side? Yeah, they wrap their limbs around each other, mostly if one is trying to prevent the other from leaving.

Who wakes up with bed hair? Both, although whoever wears it cropped shorter at the moment will have an easier time with bed hair.

Who wakes up first? Both are early risers.

Who prepares breakfast in bed for the other? None. Breakfast in bed? That’s not their style.

What is their favorite sleeping position? Either spooning, or one of them using the other’s chest/shoulder as a pillow.

Do they set an alarm each night? Yes, they do have to wake up for work.

Can a television be found in their bedroom? Nope.

Who has nightmares? Kapkan. Glaz only occasionally.

Who has ridiculous dreams? Neither, the one in the team with the weird and ridiculous dreams is Fuze.

Who sprawls out and takes up most of the bed? Kapkan, Glaz often compares him with a cat stretching out and taking up more and more space until there’s none for Glaz.

Who makes the bed? Both, they take turns.

Any routines/rituals before bed? Kapkan likes to read for a while, psychology books mostly, while Glaz tries to distract him because he doesn’t do anything especial before bed and either wants to talk with him or tries to get handsy.

Who’s the grumpiest when they wake up? Neither.

WORK

Who is the busiest? Kapkan, aside from training, he also likes tinkering and trying to improve his gadget and traps in general, and helps train the recruits too.

Who rakes in the highest income? They seem to rank the same withing Rainbow so they probably get paid the same?

Are any of them unemployed? Nope.

Who takes the most sick days? No fucking idea.

Who is more likely to turn up late for work? Neither, they’re punctual.

Who sucks up to their boss? None, the idea of them sucking up to Harry is so out of character it’s hilarious.

What are their jobs? They're part of the Spetsnaz team within the counter-terrorism group Rainbow.

Who stresses the most? Both, but Kapkan probably a bit more.

Are they financially stable? I suppose?

HOME

Who does the washing? Kapkan, he is a bit neater than Glaz. Although he drags Glaz into washing too, he refuses to be the one always doing it.

Who takes out the trash? Whoever finds the trash full.

Who does the ironing? Both do. You gotta keep the formal uniforms crisp smooth, so why not iron too whatever other clothes need ironing.

Who does the cooking? They cook together.

Who is more likely to burn the house down just trying? None, they’re not iditos.

Who is messier? Glaz.

Who leaves the toilet roll empty? idk dude, some of these question are so fucking especific, I swear. A lot of this stuff doesn’t come up most of the time when I’m writing

Who leaves their dirty clothes on the floor? Military life has trained them to not keep throwing dirty clothes on the floor, amongst other things. The only exception is when they undress each other and fall in bed kissing and marking each other, they can’t be bothered to think about that in the heat of the moment.

Who forgets to flush the toilet? Neither.

Who is the prankster around the house? Bandit whenever he is invited into their house.

Who loses the car keys when it comes time to go somewhere? No fucking idea.

Who mows the lawn? They have an apartment, not a house with garden, so neither. If they want nature, they go camping, Kapkan isn’t a fan of lawn as a concept tbh.

Who answers the telephone? Both, but more often Kapkan, since Glaz tends to ignore the phone if he’s painting.

Who does the vacuuming? Kapkan, he got used to vacuuming often since he adopted Marsha, otherwise there would be cat hair everywhere.

Who does the groceries? Both, and they go together if they can.

Who takes the longest to shower? None, they keep to short and efficient showers... unless they hop together under the spray.

Who spends the most time in the bathroom? Glaz, he takes his sweet time trimming his beard and making sure it looks right as he wants it to be.

MISCELLANEOUS

Is money a problem? I don’t think so.

How many cars do they own? Each had their own car, so when they start livign together they technically have two cars.

Do they own their home or do they rent? They rent an apartment near the base. Neither of them is close to retiring, so they haven’t thought yet of what they’ll do after Rainbow, or in which country they’ll live then.

Do they live in the city or in the country? The country, most probably.

Do they enjoy their surroundings? For the most part. Surroundings are secondary, what matters the most is the company.

What’s their song? I hate song questions and this is no exception.

What do they do when they’re away from each other? If they’re away from each other that means one of them went on a mission, so they do their damned jobs.

Where did they first meet? When they got selected to be part of Rainbow.

Who spends the most money when out shopping? Depends, Glaz is a danger if let loose on an art’s supplies store, and Kapkan impulse buys knives for his collection.

Who’s more likely to flash their assets? Neither.

Who finds it amusing when the other trips over? Glaz finds it funny when the graceful hunter stumbles and trips over, while Kapkan thinks it’s hilarious when Mr. Details fails to see something in his path and trips.

Any mental issues? Yeah, both have PSTD (especially after Outbreak, all ops who were on that Operation have it, imo), Kapkan more than Glaz.

Who’s terrified of bugs? Neither.

Who kills the spiders around the house? Whoever sees the spider, if it’s bothering them.

Their favorite place? Their room, or their apartment when they move in together.

Who pays the bills? Both.

Do they have any fears for their future? Both are terrified of losing the other during a mission. Them dying is something they have more or less assumed, but the other dying? Unthinkable.

Who’s more likely to surprise the other with a fancy dinner? They’re not the type for fancy dinners. Surprising the other with a nice home-made dinner tho? Glaz has done that on occasion.

Who’s the tallest? Kapkan, he’s 1.80m while Glaz is 1.78m. The 2cm difference is negligible tbh.

Who’s more likely to just randomly hop into the shower with the other? Both, but mostly Glaz.

Who wanders around in their underwear? I don’t think either of them would be probe to walking around in their underwear.

Who sings the loudest when singing along to the radio? Glaz, he sometimes sing along while painting.

What do they tease each other about? Glaz teases Kapkan about how he’s a tsundere like a stubborn cat, trying to deny he likes affection but then he practically melts when he gets some. Kapkan teases Glaz about how he looks like a baby when he shaves his beard.

Who is more likely to cringe at the other’s fashion sense at times? Neither, although Glaz might sometimes poke a bit of fun about how Kapkan’s wardrobe seems to have only hoodies.

Who crushed first? Glaz.

Any alcohol or substance related problems? Nah.

Who is more likely to stumble home, drunk, at 3am? Both, all the Spetsnaz go drinking together as a team, so the boys stumble home drunk together.

Who swears the most? Glaz, and that bit is canon if you listen to their voicelines! 😄

#rainbow 6 siege #r6s #rainbow six siege #kapkan #glaz #headcanons #one OTP to rule them all

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