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mariacallous · 1 month

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Celeste Borys and Kira Lynch don’t leave the house much these days. When they do venture into their small Utah communities—to go grocery shopping, to take their kids to school or the playground—neighbors whisper and stare. “I’ve had people take pictures and videos of me, and I've had someone come up and yell at me,” Lynch says. “Someone at my daughter’s junior high told me to keep my mouth shut and called me some bad names. It’s terrifying.”

“I don’t leave unless I have to,” says Borys. “My day-to-day life doesn’t exist.”

The man whose followers scorn and harass them seems to have no such problems. Long a household name in conservative Mormon circles, Tim Ballard has become nationally known in recent years: He’s the former operative for Homeland Security who says he became so alarmed during the Obama administration by the government’s supposed inaction on child sex trafficking that he decided to go out and fight it on his own, recruiting other true believers to join him on dramatic sting operations in dangerous places, later serving as cochair of the Trump administration’s advisory council on trafficking and ultimately inspiring the heavily fictionalized film Sound of Freedom based on Operation Underground Railroad (OUR), the anti-trafficking organization he founded. (The organization now goes by the name OUR Rescue.)

Ballard is also a defendant in ongoing civil lawsuits in Utah brought by women—Borys and Lynch among them—who allege that he sexually abused them under the guise of saving children. Borys and Lynch have filed police reports regarding their allegations that Ballard sexually assaulted them; Ballard has denied the claims made against him. OUR, which is mentioned in one of the suits, has countersued Borys and her husband.

“This is just a bunch of random details, gossip, and easily disproven falsehoods packaged up to generate some quick clicks,” Ballard’s spokesperson Chad Kolton wrote in response to a request for comment; he also notes that the claims against Ballard in a separate suit have been dismissed. That suit was brought by a veteran Marine who said she was injured at a training overseen by Ballard; a judge ruled she did not have standing to bring it because she had signed a waiver.

While Borys and Lynch mostly stay at home, talking to their families, each other, and their lawyers, Ballard, when not defending himself by claiming he’s the victim of a shakedown, makes regular appearances at high-profile Republican events. He showed up at the Conservative Political Action Conference in February. In March, he joined a Catholic event at Donald Trump’s Mar-a-Lago resort alongside Roger Stone and Michael Flynn. In April, Mar-a-Lago hosted a fundraiser for the Ballard Family Legal Defense Fund. At the Republican National Convention in Milwaukee this summer, he sat for an interview with Trump’s former lawyer, Rudy Giuliani. “The leftist agenda is almost verbatim the pedophile agenda,” said Ballard, grim-faced beneath a cap bearing the logo of Aerial Recovery, a self-described disaster relief and anti-trafficking group with which he now works. “You’ve got supporters here, Tim,” Giuliani told Ballard, adding, a moment later, “Pretty soon, you’re going to have one in the strongest and most powerful position in the world.”

All of this is fairly shocking to Lynch and Borys, who worked with Ballard at OUR. Just last summer, Borys says, she was by Ballard’s side as he crisscrossed Capitol Hill, meeting with Republican legislators about human trafficking and reveling with them in the success of Sound of Freedom, which brought in around $250 million in global ticket sales. “Those people know my face,” she says. “I was in those meetings and on phone calls and texting different people in the congressional world.” By fall, it emerged that Ballard and OUR had parted ways months before, following an investigation into claims of sexual misconduct that employees had made against him. The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, a longtime supporter of Ballard, publicly rebuked him for “morally unacceptable” behavior. And in the fall of 2023, accusers filed the first set of lawsuits against Ballard. Yet Ballard’s star on the Trumpist right never dimmed.

“They know what’s going on with him right now,” Borys says. “For them to ignore it but then to promote him, it’s so disgusting to me.”

Lynch met Ballard in 2021, when she was giving him a haircut. She’d seen Sound of Freedom in an early preview but at the time didn’t realize that she was cutting the hair of the man on whose life it was loosely based. All she knew was that he was famous.

“I’m kind of a big deal,” she remembers him telling her; he was taken aback and even offended that she didn’t know more about him. He told her, she says, about the amazing things he did and how children were saved by his operations.

“He’s talking about children and sex slavery,” she says. “I’m a mother of four. I’m like, ‘Oh my gosh.’ I got sucked in right that second.”

When Ballard asked if she wanted to get involved in his mission, Lynch says, she enthusiastically agreed. She had just gone through a crushing divorce, and her father was dying of a brain tumor. Lynch was, she says, “desperate for something to come along and help me spiritually.” Lynch says that Ballard told her that he was close friends with M. Russell Ballard, a high-ranking member of the LDS Church’s second-highest governing body, the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles.

OUR was a powerhouse long before Sound of Freedom appeared in theaters, raising millions of dollars in donations every year from devoted fans. The group’s exploits were frequently exaggerated. At the White House and in op-eds, for example, Ballard told the story of how the group had helped rescue a teenage girl who was trafficked from Mexico to New York and forced into sex work for several years, citing the story as evidence of the need for a border wall; at one point, he said the group had helped her “escape her hell.” In fact, according to court records, the girl rescued herself and didn’t come into contact with OUR until well after she’d escaped her captors.

Additionally, as early as 2020, a letter was circulating in philanthropic circles in Utah accusing Ballard of misconduct toward women. OUR denied everything: In a statement to Vice News at the time, an OUR spokesperson wrote, “OUR categorically denies the baseless allegations made in the anonymous letter shared with Vice. The OUR board of directors received the letter 12 months ago and, after a thorough investigation, found zero evidence to corroborate the allegations contained in the letter.”

In Lynch’s community, Ballard was still regarded as a hero. Members of her family, she says, were fans of Ballard’s; her mother gasped in excitement when she learned that Lynch had just done his hair, and showed her a shelf full of books that Ballard had written. “They were all praising him to the roof,” Lynch says. “Automatically, that put me in a very safe place with him in my head.”

Ballard’s books, several of which were published by an LDS Church–owned imprint and promoted by the conservative influencer Glenn Beck, contributed a great deal to his fame and followed two tracks. On one, he lays out supposed ties between figures from American history like George Washington and Mormonism. On the other, he positions himself as a modern-day abolitionist, part of a line with Harriet Tubman. One book, Operation Toussaint, is an adaptation of a documentary showing Ballard and his associates carrying out paramilitary work in Haiti. Missions like this were the basis of Ballard’s image as the leader of an elite group of operators doing the work governments didn’t dare and wresting sex slaves from the hands of traffickers. (Files from an investigation carried out by a Utah prosecutor and the FBI released under a public records request would later show these missions in a much less glamorous light—detailing, among other things, the role of a psychic medium named Janet Russon in providing intelligence and one of Ballard’s backers groping the naked breasts of a trafficking victim he believed to be a minor.)

Lynch never went on missions with Ballard. She was instead asked, she says—after being told of the visions he’d had of them working together to save children—to participate in training operations in which they went to strip clubs.

The first time, she alleges, Ballard arrived at her house beforehand with a close friend and OUR employee in tow, as well as Ballard’s son. At her house, Ballard asked her to put fake tattoos and eyeliner on him, getting into the undercover persona he used, which he called “Brian Black.” But almost immediately, Lynch says, once Ballard was in character, he began groping her and trying to kiss her body while she asked him to stop and reminded him that his son and friend were waiting. The behavior continued as the two rode in an Uber, Lynch says, which she calls “horrific.”

“He doesn’t listen,” she says. “He gets in this mindset where it's like he doesn’t see or hear you. It’s whatever he wants.”

Borys, for her part, began working with OUR in July of 2022 as a volunteer before moving on to paid roles in October of that year; by the time she left the organization, she was working as Ballard’s executive assistant. She also began secretly going on missions when, she says, Ballard told her he “was in the middle of a trafficking ring operation and needed a new female partner to come in” to play his girlfriend.

This was part of what Ballard has called the “couples ruse,” in which he and a woman would tell traffickers they were romantic partners, and act as such, while on missions. Ballard has claimed this was necessary to ensure that he and other male operators wouldn’t have to engage in sexual behavior with victims or traffickers while undercover.

Almost immediately after agreeing to work as Ballard’s partner, Borys’ affidavit says, she was flown to California to do “ops training,” which consisted of staying in hotels, hot-tubbing at a Four Seasons, doing workouts on the beach, and Ballard showing Borys what kind of physical acts they had to do while “undercover” and what his supposed boundaries were. She describes him lifting her shirt to admire her stomach, complimenting her “hot body,” kissing her on the neck and insisting it was fine since it avoided kissing on the lips, and showing her how he simulated sexual penetration during operations to fool traffickers who might be observing them.

Ballard, her affidavit says, told her that traffickers could “smell pheromones,” and so they needed to have real sexual chemistry in order to fool them. (The affidavit also alleges that Ballard removed his temple garment, which observant members of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints wear under their clothes, telling her “he sees angels all around, and that this isn't wrong.”)

Their first practice operation happened in Mexico, the affidavit says, where she was forced to get a couples massage with Ballard that culminated in a female massage therapist touching her in a sexual way while she froze, closed her eyes, and waited for it to be over. “I heard Tim say he had never seen this done so close and he was getting a lesson,” Borys writes in the affidavit.

"Within seconds, once I was there, I found myself in a situation where I didn't even have time to get out of it,” she says. “I was just staring at him for help.” Afterward, she recalls, she wept, and he told her, “We’re going to save so many kids, you have no idea.’”

Borys doesn’t believe these missions ever led to the rescue of a child. They nonetheless persisted—as did, her affidavit says, not just sexually abusive but spiritually manipulative behavior. Borys, who was raised a Latter-day Saint but is no longer practicing—”I’m so glad you’re not LDS anymore,” she remembers him saying—became enmeshed with Russon, the psychic medium. (Russon did not respond to a request for comment.)

“My life revolved around Janet and her readings,” Borys says; Russon would claim to channel her grandmother and allegedly encourage her and other operators not to worry about taking part in sexualized behavior.

“Janet would say, ‘Our bodies are just bodies, and God gave us bodies to use them to go save kids,’” Borys says.

Ballard, Lynch says, would also frequently assure her while touching her inappropriately that they were doing the right thing, saying things like “I know this is hard, but God will be with us,” and “we’re bringing light into dark places.” He also explicitly told her, she says, that the couples ruse was sanctioned by both God and M. Russell Ballard. (The denunciation LDS Church leadership issued of Tim Ballard in 2023 cited “the unauthorized use of President Ballard’s name for Tim Ballard’s personal advantage and activity regarded as morally unacceptable.”)

The allegations are not limited to the workings of couples ruse. At one point, Lynch’s affidavit says, Ballard came over to her house and sexually assaulted her on her staircase—something her lawyers say she reported to authorities in the fall of 2023, after joining the civil suit. (The following day, in text messages to her that WIRED has viewed, he asked to come by and pick up his belt, which he’d left lying on her floor.)

In early July, the women’s legal team filed a motion in which they say the state crime lab told them that DNA found on Borys’ skirt matched Ballard’s. (Borys alleges that Ballard sexually assaulted her and ejaculated on her leather skirt.) The motion urged the court to instruct the Utah County Sheriff’s Office to turn over the crime lab analysis to Borys’ legal team.

(In a statement to Utah outlet Fox 13, Ballard’s team accused Borys’ legal team of tainting a criminal investigation, asserting this was “consistent with the other illegal and unethical behavior that has been a hallmark of the Borys case.” Janet Russon, meanwhile, appeared on a podcast called The Last Dispensation and suggested that Ballard’s semen could have been found on her skirt because the two shared a suitcase. )

It took a while, Borys says, before she began to view herself as a victim of sexual misconduct. “I remember doing something on an op and I was so scared to go do this specific thing,” she says, her voice breaking. “And right before, all I could think was, ‘If little kids are having to do this, I can do this.’”

She would go home at night and make dinner—“trying to compartmentalize,” she says, while also texting with alleged traffickers on a burner phone.

“I would think I was doing good in the world,” she says. And she desperately wanted to see something tangible from the work—a “win,” she adds. “I felt so conflicted and dirty. I wanted that win so all the dirtiness would go away.”

At this time, Ballard’s reputation as a heroic anti-trafficking expert was at a peak. His rhetoric around trafficking—that it’s the world’s largest criminal enterprise, carried out with impunity due to the negligence and incompetence of the federal government generally and Democrats specifically—had become incredibly popular. QAnon believers took a particular interest, especially after Ballard appeared to support a false conspiracy theory that furniture company Wayfair sold children online by saying that “with or without Wayfair,” the selling of children online was “common.” (Jim Caviezel, who played Ballard in Sound of Freedom, has lent overt support to QAnon beliefs; Ballard, he claimed, taught him that traffickers extract a substance from children’s bodies that “elites” then inject to preserve their own youth. An OUR spokesperson denied at the time that Ballard had explained this to Caviezel.) As this was playing out, the QAnon-tinged Save the Children movement became a driving force in Republican politics, and Ballard himself began to eye a run for the US Senate.

In 2023, Ballard quietly parted ways with OUR following an investigation into claims of sexual misconduct that employees made against him. Lynch, who was not an employee, has a hazy memory of the time but remembers telling friends of an OUR employee that inappropriate things had happened. They, she says, told their friend, who then reported it to human resources. (Her lawyer, Suzette Rasmussen, confirms this sequence of events.)

Borys became Ballard’s executive assistant in early 2023. She was walled off, she says, from other OUR employees. When the investigation began, she knew little about it and was told that its scope was limited to a report made by one woman and would go away. It wasn’t until after she’d quit OUR, and after she’d seen attorney Suzette Rasmussen on TV discussing a suit the pseudonymous women she was representing had filed against Ballard in civil court in Utah, that she really began to process her experiences.

“I was still trying to understand all the stuff I had been going through working for him,” she says. “Once I saw Suzette, I felt like she was my safest place I could go to to protect myself.”

It wasn’t until after she’d gotten out of Ballard’s orbit, blocked his phone number, and filed a lawsuit, Borys says, that she started to understand how traumatized she was. “I was listening to a police officer doing a podcast or on the news, and he said you don’t get to—” here she pauses, and starts to cry. “You don’t get to create a victim by saving victims. And that really hit me.”

The legal process is ongoing; in addition to the suits and criminal investigation, Borys and Lynch have filed for permanent protective orders against Ballard, which currently await the scheduling of evidentiary hearings.

The two are also still very much processing their experiences not just with Ballard but with OUR, which neither now believes was ever a legitimate child-rescue operation.

“Where’s the proof?” asks Borys. “There just isn’t any proof, and when you try to talk to anyone about it who still works there and believes it, it’s like Tim Ballard—red in the face, flustered and frustrated. Instead of answering questions, they fire back at you.”

WIRED provided a detailed list of questions to Chad Kolton, a spokesperson for Tim Ballard. In response, Kolton wrote, in part, “I started responding to each of these and then reconsidered as it seems like a waste of time … There is absolutely nothing new about Tim’s work with Republicans which he’s done openly for years because they actually want to do something about the problem of trafficking rather than denying it exists. The cases against him have begun to fall apart, with one already dismissed and another facing an evidentiary hearing about serious allegations of illegal and unethical conduct by the plaintiff and her attorneys.”

OUR did not respond to a request for comment from WIRED.

“I hope he goes to jail,” Lynch says. “That’s a really honestly hard thing to say, and it’s been hard to understand that might happen. I have to realize it’s not me putting him in jail. It’s not us. It’s him and what he did.”

She also, she says, simply wants the truth to be known.

“Nobody deserves to go through something like this, and someone like him doesn’t deserve to be on a presidential campaign or speaking engagements,” she says. “He doesn’t deserve that right right now.”

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nethhiri · 5 months

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Marooned: Chapter 35

Kid x FemReader x Killer

Warnings: violence

Origins

Killer was right about a fuck coma. You slept for the entire rest of the day, until the next morning. Killer had helped you take a bath, getting in himself, though quickly regretting it when he kept having to hold your wrists. He gave you an inch, several actually, and you wanted a mile. He insisted you couldn't take any more after that afternoon, to which you replied by healing yourself completely. He muttered something about being just like Kid and finally convinced you that you needed to take a nap.

The light coming in through the window made you squint. How long did I sleep? You stretched and groaned. At the foot of Killer's bed, Minerva made a short squeal in greeting. Killer let her sleep here? Your heart squeezed. Pushing yourself up, you noticed that he had also gotten clothes for you, which were neatly folded on the bed. This was so strange. You were unaccustomed to people doing nice things for you of their own will. When you were a captain, you could just tell them to do something for you.

You came out on deck with your signature coat, having appropriately mended and cleaned it. The sun on your face tickled your cheeks and the wind tugged gently at free strands of hair. You took a moment to enjoy the view, the flat blue horizon, scratching Mini's ear as you did so. You used to have a tri-cornered hat with a feather in it that made you look quite distinguished. It would be perfect to put on now if you still had it. The time between when you left the marines and when you were caught by them were your freest, doing whatever you wanted. It was chaotic, the exact thing you had left your home island for, but perhaps that made you feel some connection to your old home. Maybe you missed the chaos.

You leaned on the banister, looking down at the water. The waves broke up your reflection as the vessel cut through the water. From this view, you could pretend you were still on Fate's Wraith. It's not like you didn't like it here, it was different though. You weren't the captain here. In some respects it was nice, no responsibilities. On the other hand, you couldn't act as you wanted. You still kind of did, but It helped that the captain's dick had a soft spot for you...hard spot?

Sighing, you thought about what might have been if nothing had happened to you. Would you have run into the Kid Pirates? What would have happened then? Would you still be hunting marines? Would you have killed Van Kossa and Warthin by now? Would you even still be alive? Maybe your crew would have betrayed you for the highest price no matter who it would have been. If the Kid Pirates fully assimilated you into their crew, would you still dwell on the past? Could you ever let it go? Not until those bastards are dead.

You woke up in a good mood, a great mood even. Why were you being so nostalgic? It was self-sabotage to make yourself upset with old memories. As a kid, you ran the streets under the guise of being a boy, it was safer that way, begging at first, stealing later. In your teen years, you hung around a rough crowd of girls, unable to hide behind short hair anymore. You protected each other from being sold to slavers and fleshtraders, not always successfully. Soon you were the last one left. The others had either left or were killed. You thought about staying, joining another of the gangs that ran the streets. In the end, you watched a girl a bit younger than you be slaughtered by the gang with the most power at the time. That's when you made your decision to get as far away from there as possible, joining the marines, the opposite of that chaos, the good guys. So much for that.

Thinking of your younger years and your home island conjured up the words to an old song. The world knew it, although every island had its own variations of the verses. The one on your island was fitting for an island dedicated to crime. You hummed the tune as you stared down into the sea, switching to softly singing the words to yourself when it was time for the verse:

Gather up all of the crew, it's time to steal all Binks' brew. We will go, to where, who knows? The loot will be our guide. Robbed behind the tavern's side. Thieves and bandits far and wide. Whores they sing, of lustful things to pirates passing by.

"Where'd ya learn that?" Something about it itched Kid's mind.

You jumped, not noticing before that Kid had come up beside you. "Sorry. M'not a good singer."

"Aye. Stick to yer day job."

The man was honest, no doubt about that. "And what is my day job?" You continued staring forward, fixated on the ocean.

Kid looked at you from the corner of his eye. You were looking at the sea with such a mournful gaze. The softness of your features in the mid-morning sun was new to him. Maybe you knew it, or maybe you didn't, you were always guarded. In truth, in your most vulnerable states, Kid still had trouble completely reading you. He could see you with clarity in this moment, a creature of pure melancholy. There was a part of him that wanted to grab the back of your shirt, considering your demeanor was that of someone who wanted to disappear into the waves. You were so lost.

Kid had been drawn to stand next to you in the first place because he saw you watching the ocean, hair reflecting the sun, coat billowing out behind you, and thought that must be how you looked on your own ship some time ago. He thought you would have the fiery gaze he was accustomed to seeing and was taken aback when your face showed the opposite. He would have retreated, except he was pinned in place when he heard the words that you sang to yourself.

"Yer the doctor of the Kid Pirates." Kid's hand wavered over your shoulder, before lightly cuffing the back of your head. "Don't be stupid." Kid wasn't good at this kind of thing. He wanted to put a hand on your shoulder as a measure of comfort. Thinking it would be odd coming from him, he changed his mind. What he really wanted to do was pull you into his chest and make you forget about the past.

The two of you stayed there for a minute or two in silence. Kid thought he could see the ghost of a smile on your face, a little less lost.

You turned away from him. "I'll be in the crow's nest."

So soft he could barely hear it, a "Thanks, Kid" came from your direction as you walked away. It may have been the wind, which seemed like it was picking up.

About an hour or two into your watch, it started pouring rain. Not the best of times to volunteer for this job, though you needed time to yourself. The strong wind had it pelting you, so not only was it cold, it sort of hurt, too, like a hundred little projectiles. Kid knew what he was saying, you don't know if he appropriately thought it through or discussed it with anyone else, but he meant it. You could tell because he immediately followed it with something rude, to balance it out. While the rain hid the fact your cheeks had been streaked with tears, it couldn't hide the red stain around the rim of your eyes. You weren't even entirely sure why you were crying. Probably many reasons, all coming out at once. You had felt better afterward. The emotions had been pent up for some time, it seemed. The harsh rain drops and tumultuous sea mirrored you in a way.

The fabric of your clothes clung to you, cold and wet. Your hair, though weighed down with water, kept whipping you about the face in the strong wind. The boat's rocking was accentuated by the fact you were farther from the center of rotation up in the air. You kept your station, eyes fixated on the horizon on all sides. There were rocky outcroppings ahead, with enough space for a ship to pass through. It didn't sit right with you. You knew that there would be something waiting in the middle. It was only a hunch, no observation haki to back it up. Call it experience. It appeared that you intended to sail right through it if you didn't say something.

You climbed about halfway down the mast and jumped the rest of the way to the deck. Yelling from the nest would do no good with the wind howling as it was. The sails had been drawn up, so the wind didn't rip them, or worse, bring the mast down. The waves pushed the ship forward even without the sails. You found Wire at the helm with Killer beside him.

"Hi, Y/N. Why aren't you at your post?" Killer noticed the redness to your eyes. Now wasn't the time to comment on it.

"I don't think we should continue on this course."

Wire acknowledged you with a nod. "Why not?"

"I can't say for sure. Something isn't right."

"We can take shelter from the wind behind the rocks."

You shook your head. "This stretch is known for bad weather, but it's short. We can sail right through it in another hour." Your eyebrows knit together. "I think they want us to shelter there." You looked at Killer, trying to convince him.

"We'll only stop until the wind lets up." Killer looked at Wire. "Storms like this don't last long. I can't sense anything ahead that's suspicious."

You looked at Killer, disappointed that they trusted you enough to follow the map you drew, but not enough to take this advice. Maybe you were overreacting and it was nothing. The feeling in your gut told you otherwise. You couldn't argue more without a solid reason. You were doing your best to fall in line, especially with the olive branch Kid extended to you earlier. You gave him a short nod of understanding, though repeating, "I really have a bad feeling." Sometimes trusting your gut trumped observation haki, but you did trust Killer.

You returned to your spot in the crow's nest, not before grabbing a rifle and a few explosives. If things turned sour, you wanted to be prepared. Using your power, you merged the rifle's bullets with the explosives. It would either blow up in your face or work as intended, exploding bullets. Your gunblade wasn't as good with long range shots, and neither were you. Actually, they probably shouldn't have let your visually impaired ass in the crow's nest to begin with. Minerva stood vigilantly at the base of the mast, as you asked her to.

In a shorter amount of time than you would have liked, the ship approached the gap in the outcroppings. The water between them was calm, as Wire expected. There weren't any ships there that you could see. You learned a while back that there were a series of metal rudders that Kid could control to stabilize or guide the ship through rough water. It couldn't propel them forward, yet; he was working on that. He must have been using these somewhere to make sure they didn't get smashed into the rocks.

There were no sounds, save for the echoing of rainwater dripping through cracks in the stone and the roaring waves. There was something else, quieter. Chains? The roar made it hard to hear anything at all. All at once, harpoons were fired from the rock walls, from inside the rock walls. That's why you couldn't see anything. They were huge, made to keep ships trapped in place or be torn apart trying to flee. It happened too quickly for Kid to manipulate them with his fruit, though shortly after, you could see the crackling purple energy that belonged to him try to pull the hooks out without causing too much damage. It was not a fast process. If he pulled them out too roughly, there would be huge holes in the hull.

Ropes fell from openings too, pirates sliding down and landing on deck. You could see Heat burning through them if he was in range, causing the pirates to either fall into the sea or hastily retreat back into the rock. The canons barely made a dent in the walls. The harpoon guns were anchored to the rocks on the inside. When Kid pulled one out, another was quickly in its place. The next one he pulled, you took aim at the harpoon gun that corresponded to it, praying you wouldn't explode. What a time to test a stupid idea. You pulled the trigger. You didn't explode, but you missed. There was a small explosion in the rock next to the harpoon, which startled the person manning it enough that they didn't reload. That gave you time to shoot again, this time hitting the base of the harpoon gun. The resulting explosion loosened the rock beneath it, and the gun fell into the water. No damage was done to the ship since the harpoon connected to it had already been removed by Kid.

There were three on each side. One was taken out. Five were left. You only had 2 more explosive bullets. Kid looked up at you and pointed to the middle one on the same side. You gave him a thumbs up. Aiming carefully, you waited until Kid freed the hook and shot, repeating this process for the last harpoon on that side. One side of the ship was released, causing it to drift closer to the other side where it was still attached. Kid pointed to the next one, but looked away before waiting for your thumbs up. There was no way to let him know you didn't have any more special bullets. You could just shoot the operator, however another would take their place, and you didn't even have enough regular bullets for everyone.

Without Kid focusing on the metal rudders and the loss of the chains on the one side, the ship was rocking more freely. It was hard to see, but the rock face had a narrow path carved into it so people could walk back and forth between stations. You were a bit higher than the shelf. The ship's rocking brought the crow's nest close enough that you could make the jump. There wasn't time to decide if that would be wise, Kid was already working the harpoon out and expecting you to take care of it. If Kid didn't get his full attention back to the rudders, they were going to be smashed against the rock when they tried to get out of there.

You waited until the mast rocked toward the rock face, at the last second using the momentum to make the leap. The rocks were much more slippery than you anticipated and you landed hard into the stone. But you landed. The enemy stared at you open-mouthed, very obviously not expecting anyone to try something like that. Using their stupor, you rushed them and shoved them over the edge. Then you were about to use your power to dislodge the harpoon, when you had a better idea. Quickly, before anyone could get to you, you reloaded the harpoon and aimed it at the next one. The resulting shot caused the ground underneath the middle harpoon to crumble. That's when you realized mistake number one: now you would have to jump across to the next portion. Almost immediately after that, you realized mistake number two: since the harpoon was connected to the one that fell, it was suddenly jerked into the water also, and you felt the ground start to give under your feet.

Kid looked at the crow's nest to signal you and you weren't there. He looked on deck, thinking you had fallen or jumped. His eyes darted around to find you. Then, the loud rumble of falling rock caused him to look up, and watch you realize your fuck up in real time.

"WHAT THE FUCK IS SHE THINKING?!"

Killer, who had been covering Kid, looked where his captain was looking. "What the fuck?!"

You hauled ass to get to the other side of the gap, jumping at nearly the last second. Drawing your weapon, you jammed the blade into the rock, knowing you didn't jump quite far enough to make it. You clung to the edge and made an attempt to pull yourself up. One of Big Mom's pirates saw you, walking towards you with bad intentions. You should have been scared or anxious or any number of other feelings. In spite of that, you were having fun. A lot of fun really.

"Watch out!" You warned.

The pirate paused. "For what?"

"There's a big spike right below you."

He looked down, the flat rock below him. "Nice try." It was glowing strangely. "Wha-?" A spike of rock shot up, impaling him.

"Told ya." You pulled yourself up the rest of the way and skirted around the dead man.

There was one more harpoon. The Victoria Punk strained against the last hook and Kid was already working to free it. As soon as it was released, the ship surged forward. There was no reason to get rid of the last gun. Though now you were realizing you had no plan to get back on the ship, and it was moving away. It was within jumping distance. Landing distance was a different story. You supposed you could fix your shattered ankles. You saw the chain to the harpoon and used your power to turn sever and shrink the links. If you had more time, you could have formed a better plan, but for now you wrapped the chain around your torso. You stood at the edge of the rock. Finding Kid's face, you pointed to a place in the air. It took him a second to understand, but you saw him give you a thumbs up. This was probably gonna hurt, maybe less than shattered ankles though. You backed up to give yourself a running start, aiming yourself for the spot you pointed to. The metal was heavy as you leapt toward the ship and you fell fast. You didn't care that it was reckless. The wind against you made you wonder if that's what it was like to fly. And the pouring rain made it nearly seem like you were swimming, something you had forgotten how it felt. It was...freeing.

There was a harsh tug, your vision filled with violet, but it didn't hurt nearly as bad as you thought it would as Kid caught you with his devil fruit. You thought the chains would dig into you. Kid had enough finesse and practice to make it smoother you figured. Even better. Your plan was excellent, if only in hindsight. You didn't register you were laughing, flat on your back on the deck. It took a second to reorient yourself, a bit dizzy from jumping, though it was more like free falling. There were several faces above you, one of them very red and very loud. Oh I'm being yelled at.

Crack! The sound of splintering wood acutely grounded you, as the mast leaned toward the deck, specifically toward where you lay.

Next Chapter

#y'all I got a new favorite chappie #someone is about to get scolded #massacre soldier killer #eustass kid #one piece #marooned #kid x reader x killer #killer x reader #eustass kid x reader #x reader #made myself cry with this one lads

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a-killer-obsession · 5 months

Text

Wavelengths [Killer x Reader, Heat x Reader]

🔞 Minors DNI 🔞

A search for a rumored Vegapunk weapon leads the Kid Pirates to an unexpected new crewmate, with a bloodlust that rivals their own and an incredible power.

CW: Please check AO3 for all current warnings, but general warning for smut, slow burn, serious gore, and really dark themes. AFAB reader, she/her pronouns.

Masterlist || AO3 || Chapter 1

Chapter 2 - Initiation

Woe, backstory be upon yee

Mild Egghead Island spoilers (I'm talking like, episode 2 of the anime arc, super early)

WC: ~13k (sorry, I promise they won't usually be this long!)

Day 0

You were already exhausted by the time you made it to the secluded back end of the island where the Victoria Punk was anchored. It wasn't docked since there was no dock in the area, just anchored a little ways off shore as close as the pirates could get it without running it into the sand bank, but several small dinghy were pulled up on the sandy shore waiting for the pirates to use. Even from the beach though, you could judge the size and style of the ship, appreciating what looked like a large dinosaur skull mounted at the front in lieu of a figurehead, the matching rib bones lining the sides and the large black flag that hung from the main mast, painted with a jolly roger that resembled Kid. Humble.

Several trips back and forth had already been made with the supplies looted from the marine compound, the ship bursting at the seams with loot. With the last of it finally set on the boats, the pirates began pulling them out to the water, paddles in hand to make the short trip to the main ship.

You weren't exactly keen on being tied to the mast of the ship for a week, but you figured it was better than some of the hazing you'd heard other pirates go through, and it sure beat the various cold dark cells you'd spent the last several years in. Considering you were a woman, about to board a ship full of men, it could always be much, much worse. You'd managed to at least down four (and a half, you still mourned your dropped one) apples and a banana you'd scavenged from some of the crates being moved after the battle, getting as much food in as you could on the walk to the ship. It at least meant you had a small reset to work with after being near starved for longer than you could recall. It was only a week you'd be starved at the mast, barely anything compared to what you’d been through, and once it was over, you would be free.

You'd spent most of your life under the firm, possessive thumb of the world government, moved from marine base to marine base, constantly under the guidance of abusers who got a kick out of controlling someone they knew to be more powerful than themselves. It boosted their ego, even if you were a scrawny woman - they knew the power you held, and it swelled their pride to dominate you. They never really cared about you as a person, only your ability to kill, and when you'd failed to become the obedient dog they wanted you’d been discarded without a second thought. You knew Kid was the same, the only leverage you had with him was as a weapon, but at the very least he had promised not to touch you, and you’d put yourself in a strong position right from the get go to prove to him that you weren't to be messed with. It was a fresh start for you, you would finally have a taste of freedom, away from the people who had beaten and abused you.

The fact that it came under the guise of being a pirate was no bother to you - you enjoyed killing, but you were also undoubtedly lazy. If you followed the Kid Pirates you could kill all you wanted without having to deal with the repercussions or figuring out how to escape on your own, and you'd have the added benefit of a protective buffer between you and the marines who would no doubt come looking for you when they learned of your escape. This crew had a reputation for being bloodthirsty and ruthless, and they knew what you could do, so you knew you would find no judgment here. And if pirates were known for anything, it was hating the marines and the world government, a sentiment you wholeheartedly shared. You would fit right in here.

As you approached the water's edge you adjusted the dial on your helmet, the visor shifting from a dark purple to a more vibrant, richer blue. You scanned the ocean with your eyes, now able to see under the dark waves with your enhanced vision, and once you were happy with the lack of seakings visible you shifted it back to the purple. Killer quirked an eyebrow at you, not that you could see it under his mask, watching you with curiosity before returning his attention to pulling the boat nearest to your group out to the water. He made a mental note to ask you about the mask's functions later.

Once the dinghy was floating in the water, the last stragglers of the crew began to jump in, and you hesitantly waded into the water behind them, feeling yourself grow weaker as the water raised above your knees and soaked the ends of your marine issue shorts, before Kid, growing impatient, grabbed you under the arms and lifted you into the small boat. You made a small huff but settled yourself on the thin seat between him and Killer. You were somewhat squished between the large men, it was just as well you were skinny, and you leaned forward to ensure your mask would not be damaged as they began to row away from the shore.

It was funny, as you watched the marine base sink away from view, you wondered how long you had even been here. Well, not here specifically, you knew you'd only been at this base a few weeks. More like, how long you'd been a prisoner. It was hard to tell the passing of time when you'd spent so much time in windowless cells, when they never consistently gave you meals, and with the lack of nutrition even your period was inconsistent, so that was no help in keeping track of time either. The commodore having you brought to his office was the only real signifier of time passed that you had to go off, guessing he probably sent for you every couple of days, sometimes more often.

They usually moved you between bases on a monthly basis, but sometimes it seemed like you spent only weeks at a base, sometimes multiple months. It'd been so long since they discarded you that you weren't even sure how old you were anymore. If you had to guess, you'd say 25, but really you didn't know for sure. You weren't even sure when your birthday was, you'd been really young when you got your devil fruit and it had destroyed any cognitive power you had for a long time.

The boat you were on was the last to pull up alongside the Victoria Punk, with the other ones already in the process of being unloaded and hauled up to the deck for storage. You had no intention of climbing the rope ladder that had been thrown down, given your arms were currently so weak, so you stood and quickly moon stepped the short distance up to the main deck. Exhausted, you laid down and sprawled out on the wooden surface like a starfish, taking advantage of the ability to lay flat while it lasted before you were inevitably tied to the mast, enjoying the warm sunlight you had been so direly missing. At least that was one advantage to being tied to the mast, you hadn't had fresh air in so long that you probably would have spent the next few nights out on the deck by choice anyway. you were looking forward to seeing the stars.

A shadow loomed over you, and you grumbled at the sudden lack of warmth as you opened your eyes. Kid was standing over your head, upside down from your point of view, looking down at you with an annoying smirk on his painted lips. You let out a deep sigh and sat up, before standing with a huff and walking to the main mast. You didn't have to be told, you knew what was coming. You slid down against it, landing on your ass with a pout as one of the commanders, Heat, you recognized from his bounty poster, brought over a heavy reel of thick rope.

Most of the crew watched with curiosity as Heat tied you to the mast, wrapping the rope around you and the thick wooden pole several times, pinning your torso and arms against it before knotting it well out of your reach. The crew knew well what that meant, that you were on trial to become a new crewmate, and you would be there for seven days just as they all had. If you were just a prisoner you would have been taken straight to the brig, and definitely bound with seastone. If you were a guest, you'd likely have been taken straight to Kid's room. The fact that you put up no fight also made it obvious that this was by choice. They'd never inducted a woman before and an excited, slightly confused buzz of conversation arose from the crew as they watched you wiggle, testing the limitations of your restraints, before finally settling in and stilling.

“Seven days, little one,” Kid told you, crouching so his face was close to yours. He gave you a smug grin, and you returned it with your own playful smile, ready and willing for what would be an easy ordeal for you. He knew it too, given it was clear you were used to being starved, but it wouldn't be fair to the rest of his crew if he didn't at least put on a show of initiating you, and it would ultimately help you earn the respect of his crew. Before standing upright again he unhooked the holster from your thigh, pocketing the dagger. You growled a warning at him when his touch lingered on your skin, before he smirked and finally stood.

“See you in seven days then, Captain,” you yawned, squirming a little to get comfortable then closing your eyes, resting your head back against the mast to sleep. You were desperate for a nap after using what little strength you had left on your Meteor Wave, and it's not like there was anything else for you to do now that you were tied to the mast. You had all the time in the world to take in your surroundings and eye up the crew, for now what you wanted was some rest.

“Alright pussies,” Kid announced to his crew, standing tall and proud after a successful day, to which they all silenced their gossiping and turned to attention, “this here is Yin. She's the reason we came to this island, and will be a powerful asset for us in the future. She's agreed to join the crew, under some annoying conditions, but I don't want to hear a single complaint about it from you assholes. She's worth the strength of a thousand men, so you will treat her with respect. And under no circumstances will you touch her without her permission. Keep your tiny dicks in your pants or I'll cut them off and feed ‘em to you. Do I make myself clear?”

There was a murmur of aye aye captain’s before Kid dismissed them to finish their preparations to leave the island. There were still a few tasks left for him to do, like checking what his crew had looted and getting the report on how many men were injured or killed during the battle. You were already deep asleep by the time the anchor was raised, long since fallen victim to your exhaustion. Kid and Killer watched you sleep from a distance, a million questions in their heads, but most of all both confused that; one, this scrawny, irritating thing was the powerful weapon they'd been hunting for, and; two, this outwardly innocent, sweet looking girl was sleeping without a care in the world, like you weren't tied to the mast of the notorious Kid Pirate's ship, and like they hadn't just watched you massacre hundreds of strong men and laugh about it. Not to mention the commodore, that was a whole other bag of worms.

They of course realized you had some sort of devil fruit, and they could guess by your tattered marine uniform that you had at some point been a government dog, but the fact that they'd found you half starved in a dark cell raised a multitude of questions. The government had been careful to move you often, likely to keep you from people like Kid, but you had clearly been discarded by them at some point. Their best guess was that the fruit itself was too dangerous to bring back into circulation, so they'd kept you alive to keep that power from becoming available to anyone else. Killer was also sure that ‘Yin’ wasn't your real name, but that didn't seem of much consequence right now. He guessed you must be close to his age, though it was hard to tell under the layers of grime and blood, your cheeks and eye sockets hollowed from being emaciated.

Neither of them brought up what you'd done to them after the battle, and as soon as it seemed like it had been long enough to not raise suspicions from the crew, they both left the deck to retreat to their rooms, anxious to shower and change into clean clothes.

Day 1

You slept for what you assumed was likely around fifteen hours, it seemed like it was about late afternoon the next day when you were woken by a splash of water on your bare thigh. A cabin boy startled near you as he noticed your head raising, apologising profusely and scampering away with his bucket and mop before you could even register what had happened. You blinked the sleep from your eyes, thankful for the tinting effect of your visor in the bright afternoon sun.

It didn't take long for you to notice the masked blonde sitting across from you, resting against a wall with crossed arms and crossed legs, watching you carefully. You cocked your head at him, and he stood, closing the space between you with just a few long strides, and standing over you. The ominous looming was probably supposed to be intimidating, but you couldn't help but blush at the fact that you were eye level with his dick. You did your best to crane your head to look up at him anyway.

“The captain has some questions for you,” he said plainly. His long blonde hair flitted gently in the wind behind him, and you wondered how a pirate kept so much hair so well maintained.

“Okay…” you mumbled blearily, looking around and noticing a distinct lack of said captain, “is he going to ask them then or…?”

“He's busy,” Killer snapped, “so I'll be asking them”

“Yesh, okay mister grumpy-mask,” you grumbled, pulling up your legs so they were crossed in front of you, “go ahead then”

Killer looked away for a moment to catch the eye of a passing henchman, giving him a quick nod that the man clearly understood. The henchman quickly brought over a chair, positioning it a metre or so in front of you before scurrying away. Killer took a seat and leant back on the chair, crossing his arms and scanning you with his eyes.

“What sort of devil fruit do you have?” was his first question. You weren't surprised, it seemed like the most obvious question.

“Ah, straight into the complicated questions,” you sighed. You closed your eyes for a moment, trying to figure out the best way to explain it, “it's called the wave-wave fruit. As in, wavelengths. Not like… ocean waves. It's more microscopic than that. How much do you know about physics?”

“Some, enough probably, what sort of wavelengths?” he asked.

“All of them, I think,” you replied, a little confused at your own answer, and quickly working on rephrasing it, “I mean everything I know of that's measured in wavelengths I've been able to manipulate to some degree. Some are harder than others, but I have some control nonetheless. Vibrations are easiest, I can use them at a smaller scale, like molecules, speeding up or slowing the vibrations to increase or decrease temperature. Or at a larger scale, like what you saw me do on the battlefield, creating shockwaves of vibrations”

“And that's what you did to the commodore? Heated and cooled him?” Killer inquired, starting to piece things together.

“His blood, specifically, but yeah. The wall I used to keep us clean was also vibrations, it wasn't actually solid, it's just that the air was vibrating so fast that nothing could get past it. Like a really strong wind.”

Killer nodded, stroking the scruffy goatee that poked out from under his mask. “Okay, so what else? You said there were others.”

“Yeah, the others I don't use as much because they're either more difficult or not as useful. Sound is easy, I can replicate sounds with relative ease. Single sounds like replicating a lone instrument or a voice or animal call are easier than replicating a whole song. Light is tricky but doable. Every colour you see is a different wavelength of light, so by manipulating the wavelength I can change the colours. Not super useful but it makes for a fun lightshow when I'm drunk. Before I was locked up I was working on using it to create mirages of myself, but it's early days for sure.”

To emphasize your point you closed your eyes in concentration, and a life sized version of you appeared in the space between you and Killer. It was faint, and wobbling, like a broken hologram. You weren't able to hold it for long before you let out a heavy exhale and the clone disappeared.

“The last thing I know I can control is electromagnetic waves, but I can only do it at a very small scale,” you continued, “it's enough to manipulate the electricity that sends messages through a person's nerves, but not enough to power anything or manipulate the magnetism of an object”

“Is that… what you did to Kid and I?” Killer asked, under his breath so as not to let any curious henchmen hear.

“Yeah,” you giggled, “sorry about that, but it was in self defence”

Killer made a low grumble under his mask, not offering up any sort of forgiveness in exchange for your apology. At least now he understood what you'd done, it put him slightly more at ease. Not that he was happy about his nerves being messed with. You yawned and rolled your head to stretch out your stiff neck, the questioning was starting to grate at you. Using your fruit to create a mirage when you were already so weak was probably not the smartest thing you’d ever done.

“Is that it? I'm tired,” you grumbled.

“One more and I'll leave you be for now,” he said, leaning forward to examine her closer, “what's with the mask?”

You chuckled to yourself, not at all surprised by the question considering his own mask. “What's with yours?” you retorted.

He sat in silence, unwavering and unimpressed. You rolled your eyes and huffed, it was clear you weren't getting an answer today, so you'd just have to continue making up your own theories about it. Given the state of Kid's horribly scarred face, your best guess right now was that he was unbelievably mangled under the mask. Blown up by a grenade or something. Maybe he didn't even have a nose. You wrinkled your own nose at the thought before deciding to answer his question, if anything to pull your mind away from imagining what awful features he had under his mask.

“Like I said earlier, I can manipulate light and sound,” you started your explanation, pausing for a moment as he sat back in his chair and resumed his previous position, “unfortunately I can also see and hear a larger spectrum because of it. You know how they say mantis shrimp can see more colours than we can? It's like that, I've got shrimp colours. And sounds I guess. Well not shrimp sounds but… you know what I mean. Anyway it sounds fucking cool, but I can tell you right now that constantly being able to hear every atom moving and being able to see everyone's bones and organs is not cool, and I can't control it on my own. It's a default setting that I can't seem to manipulate, and it's extremely overwhelming. If I spend more than a few minutes without the mask I usually have a panic attack. The mask filters it all out so I just see and hear what a normal person would. I can adjust it though, to tune in to different levels of the sound or light spectrum, for example if I need to see if someone has a broken bone, or hear a different frequency.”

“That's why you carried the seastone cuffs after killing the commodore? To mute the ability?”

“Exactly. Seastone deactivates devil fruits, as I assume you know, so I can use it to stop myself from becoming overwhelmed when I don't have the mask. Obviously though, seastone also makes me weak and tired. It's why I'm inseparable from my mask. I'm guessing you understand better than anyone what it means to me,” you said, scanning his striped mask with your pupil-less eyes.

“Hmmph,” he replied neutrally, standing from the chair and dragging it till it rested against a wall, “that'll do for now then, but there's more questions we'd like to ask tomorrow”

“Mmm,” you replied, straightening your legs out and shifting in your spot to get comfortable again. Your arms would have gone to sleep long ago if you hadn't been using your devil fruit to keep the blood flowing in them, “I'm guessing the captain wants to know what intel I have on the marines and world government. You can tell him I'm more than happy to share with him everything I know about those cunts, I have no love or loyalty for them. The enemy of my enemy is my friend, or whatever it is they say.”

“Right,” he replied, a little taken aback that you were so willing to part with information without even being prompted. ‘They must have really done a number on her’ he thought to himself, “He'll be happy to hear that. I'll have someone bring you water, and I'll be back with more questions tomorrow.”

“Pleasure doing business with you, Massacre Soldier,” you said in her best obedient subordinate voice, before closing your eyes to nap.

“It's Killer,” he replied with a huff, walking away.

Day 2

You woke up at what must have been the middle of the night. It was clear out, the stars were in full display, but you hadn't noticed them yet due to the fact that you were full on hyperventilating after a particularly graphic dream. You'd think someone who enjoyed violence as much as you wouldn't experience bad dreams, but there were other kinds of horrors from your past that plagued you and often woke you in a panic. You went through the familiar motions of calming yourself; five things you can see, four things you can feel, three things you can smell… Eventually your breathing started to even out and the world came back into view. It was then you noticed the vibrations of the warm body above you. If you concentrated enough you could make out the vague shape, and it was clear they were watching you from the crow's nest above. On night watch, presumably, and distracted by your very audible panic attack.

“You can stop gawking at me now, Killer,” you mumbled without turning to look at him, stretching your legs back out from the fetal position you'd subconsciously pulled them into. The distinct difference in vibrations around his mask made it easy to tell who was watching you.

“You good?” he asked, trying to hide the genuine concern in his voice but you picked up on its subtlety, and it annoyed you to no end. You weren't some feeble thing, and you wondered if he was only treating you with kindness because you were a woman. You had no doubt it was going to be a common struggle aboard the Victoria Punk.

“Just peachy, so fuck off,” you huffed. There was a quiet shifting of fabric as he turned away to give you privacy, returning to watching the still horizon and the small, calm clouds that were settled over it.

Resigning yourself to ignoring him, and titling your eyes to the sky you finally noticed the dazzling scattering of twinkling stars, too far from any island to be hindered by light pollution. Your mask may have had a purple tint, but it didn't apply to your vision like it would if you were wearing sunglasses. Sure, it kept the sun from being too bright by filtering out some of its harsher light waves, but other than that it was a mere filter, allowing you to see the way a normal person would, maybe even slightly better than a normal person. For you, it was no different to wearing clear prescription glasses.

You were certainly far from colourblind, having seen a much wider spectrum of colours than any other person, you could pick up the subtle differences between colours like nobody else could. The faint yellows, blues and reds of the faraway stars were clear to you, each star being a different colour depending on how hot they were. You knew other people could tell the difference, but you could pick out the smallest changes, you could probably guess the exact temperature of each star if you tried based on the colour.

You could also see planets in far more detail than the normal human eye, picking out the quiet blues and warm browns of the different planets that were close enough and in the right position to see. To the naked eye they would have been simple sparkles hidden between the stars. They were still tiny, but the colours were clear to you.

You admired the full display of nature's majesty with wide eyes. It had been years since you'd seen the stars. You would have liked to adjust your mask to see the ultraviolet light, to see the beautiful blues and purples radiating off distant galaxies, but your arms were firmly pinned to the mast. You sighed, deciding to continue stargazing anyway, reminding yourself that you would have all the time in the world to look at the stars under every spectrum of light imaginable as soon as you were done with your time on the mast.

At some point you fell back asleep, lulled by the soft rocking of the ship and Killer's quiet rhythmic breathing above you.

You grumbled and pulled your leg away as someone kicked it, wishing you could rub the sore spot the kick had left but unable to reach with your arms tied. You opened your eyes to find Killer standing over you once again, his leg pulled back to repeat the kick if you didn't wake up. He wasn't doing it hard enough to properly injure, but enough that it'd no doubt leave a bruise on someone like you. Before he could swing you stopped his foot with your own, crossing one leg over the other to press your black, standard issue marine boots against his ankle.

“What the fuck Killer?” you spat, pushing his leg away before returning your foot to the ground, bent at the knee so you could quickly raise it again if you had to.

“About fucking time, fuck you sleep like the dead,” he replied, pulling the chair from yesterday back towards you, leaving it a little further away to account for your stretched out leg before sitting, “and you snore worse than most of the men here.” It was a lie, but he felt like seeing if he could get a rise out of you.

“I do the fuck NOT,” you yelled, trying to slide down in your restraints so you could reach him with your foot to kick him, which resulted in your leg flapping awkwardly in the air mere inches away from him while you made little grunts of excursion. He couldn't help but smile under his mask, you really could be childish, it was amusing, and he would definitely find more ways to rile you up in the future. You could have full well used your devil fruit to maim or kill him, but it was clear you weren't going to hurt him. Finally you gave up and let your leg fall to the wooden deck with a heavy ‘thunk’ and a pout on the only visible part of your face.

“What do you want, Killer?” you said with an exasperated sigh.

“We have more questions,” he replied.

“Of course you do, couldn't it wait till I was awake though?” you grumbled.

“It's almost noon, you've slept more than enough,” he replied in a bored tone.

You looked around, a little confused. Had you really slept that long? The men around you were bustling around, already several hours deep into their various chores, the occasional curious glance thrown your way. You turned back to Killer with a sigh, “Fine, what does our apparently very busy captain want to know today?”

“You knew I was watching you last night, do you have haki?”

“Armament, yes. It's strong, by normal standards, though I barely use it. I'm guessing you're asking specifically about observation haki though. I don't, I can just sense vibrations around me because of my devil fruit. If I concentrate enough I can make out the contours of people, see their faces and expressions, sense if their heart is beating faster if they're lying. Which by the way, I know I don't snore, and you're a filthy liar.” you gave him a coy smile, and he shifted uncomfortably in his seat, turning away from you. His heart was racing, and it didn't take a psychic to figure out why.

“I can't see your face,” you reassured softly. His head snapped in your direction and he was starting to wonder if you could read minds, “your mask is solid metal, it's blocking a lot of the vibrations and making them bounce back. All I can sense under it is a blur. It would be the same if I used my mask functions, metal is a good insulator against a lot of types of wavelengths, so it's a bit of a weak spot for me”

His heart rate lowered slightly, his own observation haki telling him you weren't lying about your ability. He cleared his throat, a little flustered that you'd read him and his insecurities so easily.

“Our intel tells us you have ties to Vegapunk,” he said, trying to move the conversation along, “we assumed the weapon, you I guess, were built by him but obviously that's not the case, so where is that information coming from?”

“Oh, that would be the mask,” you explained, “I spent a short while on Egghead Island with a few of his satellites while they ran tests on my fruit and manufactured the mask. As much as the government wanted me to be their weapon, I was useless before the mask. Like I told you yesterday, it's overwhelming. I was always on the edge of a panic attack, struggling to navigate the world. I had to be practically guided everywhere and spoon fed because I was seeing straight through everything, I would always walk into shit and over or under reach for things because I couldn't make out surfaces. Not to mention the sounds. I may as well have been deaf because I couldn't pick out voices between everything else. I was an anxious, over-stimulated mess and completely useless as a weapon, as a person even, so they commissioned Vegapunk to make the mask to help me control it. I often had bouts of being completely feral before the mask, when my brain would finally snap and go completely instinctual just to have any sort of control. A lot of people have bite shaped scars from me”

“What the fuck is a satellite,” Killer asked. Your answer had raised many more questions, but that one confused him the most.

“Ah, kind of a complicated question,” you mused, “they're… Vegapunk? But not? I'm not sure how to explain it. He like, split his personality up into clones or some shit. They don't look like him though, or what I've seen of pictures of him anyway. I've never actually met him”

“Right, okay,” Killer did not at all understand but he figured it didn't really matter anyway, he had more important questions to ask, “how long were you a marine?”

“Another complicated question,” you groaned, “you just love those don't you? Can't you just ask me my favourite colour or something?”

There was an awkward silence while he waited for you to answer the question, before you groaned again and relented. “Finnneeee. And it's yellow, by the way. Do you want the long version or the short version?”

“Long version, I've got all day,” he replied.

“Alright then,” you shrugged, or as best you could in the restraints anyway, “it's not like I'm going anywhere. I ate my devil fruit when I was about four. Daddy dearest was never in the picture, it was just me and my mother, so I was left alone for long bouts during the day while she worked, that was when I found it. Obviously it fucked me up, my mum came home one day to find me completely out of it, screaming, feral. She didn't know it was a devil fruit, obviously, so she took me to the hospital. Doctors took months to realise it was a devil fruit and put a seastone cuff on me, but not before I blew a nurse's brains out in my panic. Life went relatively back to normal for a while till the government caught wind of me. Mum kept me hidden away, given what I'd done to the nurse, but kept her eye out for a way to get me off the island so we could start fresh somewhere else. Eventually she was able to save enough money to buy us passage to another island, but the ship was attacked by slavers during the journey.”

You paused for a moment, watching a news coo fly overhead and drop the daily newspaper, something you hadn't seen in a very long time, before continuing on with your story. “I was about six when I was sent to a slave house on Sabaody. The government had tracked my movements and were quick to buy me, and I haven't seen my mother since. They sent me to the marines to be secretly trained, only a select few knew about me. I think the plan was to make me a CP agent, they seemed pretty set on training me for some sort of elite team. Physical training was going fine, I learnt how to fight and how to shoot and how to be stealthy, but every time they took the seastone off though I'd go straight back to being out of control, and eventually they gave up on me. At some point they started abusing me, since I wasn't good for anything else. It was just inappropriate touches at first, and then… well. I'm sure you can put two and two together.” Killer’s mask moved to point away from you, clearly unnerved with the topic, and you cleared your throat uncomfortably before continuing.

“Anyway the government wasn't happy about my lack of progress controlling my fruit, so they shipped me off to Egghead in the hopes that Vegapunk could ‘fix’ me. I had two beautiful, abuse-free years on that island while they made the mask and helped me learn to control my fruit, before the government pulled me back to hell. I spent the next four years training, honing in on my devil fruit, learning haki and moon stepping, learning advanced combat. I was a quick learner, so they put me in active service when I turned sixteen, when it was no longer suspicious for me to be in the marines. I did what they asked like an obedient dog, for a while,, but then they stuck me with a commodore who liked to play with pretty things. The more he abused me, the more I lashed out on the battlefield. At some point I started enjoying killing, using it as an outlet for my anger, and the more blood thirsty I became the less they could control me. Eventually I started killing marines and civilians, so they benched me. They couldn't let my fruit go back in rotation though, so they just kept moving me from base to base to keep me hidden. I must have been twenty when they benched me. I'm not sure how long it's been since then, years definitely, but I'm not sure. Anyway that's it, that's the full story”

It was a lot for Killer to process. Your shit past was somehow worse than his, and he couldn't help but feel sorry for you. He'd been young the first time he killed, but four years old? That was a lot for a kid to carry, not to mention being raped for the first time before even hitting puberty, and so many times since. It was no wonder you were so fucked up, why you laughed so maniacally after killing the commodore, why you enjoyed killing as much as Killer did. He wondered if you'd been branded at the slave house, or when the last time someone had treated you as a human was.

With a heavy exhale he stood, dragging the chair back to the wall without a word, and decided to leave it be for now.

“What, that's it? No snide remarks about being a warm hole or some shit?” you spat. It was clear you were angry, residual anger not really directed at him but at your memories. It sent a shiver down his spine to hear you imply that it was a common occurrence for men to just call you a ‘warm hole’.

“I'll have someone bring your water, we're done for now,” he said flatly as he walked away. You huffed in outward annoyance, but inwardly you wished he hadn't left, so you didn't have to be alone with your own thoughts.

Day 3

Day three was of not much note. You watched the crew do their chores, trying to overhear their names as they talked so you could figure out who was who. Usually around midday some nervous cabin boy would bring you a single glass of water, shaking as he held it to your lips, but to your surprise today it was brought by someone else. Heat knelt in front of you, holding up the glass of water.

“No cabin boy today?” you mused.

“They're scared of you,” he laughed, holding the glass to your mouth so you could drink. You chugged the water greedily, one glass a day was nowhere near enough under the constant sunlight, “apparently they heard about what you did at the marine base, so I offered to bring you your water instead of having to smell them pissing their pants”

You laughed as you swallowed the last bit of water, almost choking on it. “You good?” Heat asked, his eyes were soft with concern but it didn't seem to annoy you as much as it had when Killer had shown sympathy.

“Yeah,” you coughed, “wrong pipe. Anyway, that's fucking hilarious. Cabin boys are just pups, I wouldn't hurt them”

“Yeah good luck convincing them of that, pussies the lot of them,” he laughed, putting down the glass and sitting on the deck in front of you. His pale blue hair billowed in the wind behind him, a tone not too far from your own lilac coloured hair. His face was covered in stitch-like scars that ran from his mouth over his cheeks and his body was lined with tattoos that looked like barbed vines that wrapped around his neck and over his arms, you traced them with your eyes.

“I like your tattoos,” you mused.

“Thanks,” he smiled, somehow still looking sad at the same time, “you got any?”

“Not any by choice,” you frowned, “just a marines tattoo, it's more like a tag of ownership really. And a slave mark, if you can count that”

“We can get them covered, if you want,” he offered, “well I don't think you can tattoo over scars actually, but the marine tat we could cover”

“You think we can turn it into a set of tits?” you gave him a coy smile.

“Abso-fucking-lutely,” he laughed, standing up, “I should probably go, we're not supposed to talk to you till initiation is done, but I think you're going to fit right in here”

“Thanks Heat,” you replied softly, glad to have had some genuine company, if only for a short while.

You pulled your knees up to your chest as soon as he left. You didn't want to show weakness in front of Heat but a sharp pain was beginning to form in your gut, assumedly from hunger. It didn't feel like your normal hunger pains but then again, you weren't usually tied to a mast. You'd only asked to use the bathroom once since getting here, maybe you were constipated or something. Not that the source of the pain mattered, you still had another four days to go before you were released and you doubted they'd allow you any painkillers till it was over, so you just pulled your knees in as close as you could to put pressure on the dull pain.

Day 4

It was almost noon when Heat came out to the deck to bring you your water. You'd been quiet, as always, save for a few questions Killer had for you about the marines. You'd spent most of the last 24 hours with your knees up at your chest, your head buried between them as the sharp pain continued to grow in your gut.

Heat was in a good mood today, he had high hopes for you as a new crewmate. His conversation with you yesterday had been short, but you were pleasant to talk to, had no problem making crude jokes, and by your work on the battlefield it was clear you were bloodthirsty. You would fit right in here. Three more days, then he could properly get to know you. Not to mention that Kid had said the crew just couldn't touch you ‘without your consent’, that wasn't a full ban, right? If he played his cards right maybe he could score himself a girlfriend. The thought of not having to wait between islands to get laid made him near giddy. Kid hadn't bothered to talk to you since you'd come on board, Killer didn't seem to have any interest outside of the questions he was tasked with asking you, and Wire certainly couldn't care less. The henchmen would probably try their luck, but Heat knew they were far beneath a woman of your calibre. That left you wide open for him to try his hand at wooing you, so he was setting himself up to always try his best to be nice to you. Of course, he preferred women with a little more plush to them, with soft curves and tummies and breasts he could practically sink into, and you were basically a walking bag of bones, but he wondered if in time, with proper nutrition, whether you'd fill out. It didn't make a whole load of difference at the end of the day though, a thin woman was still a better companion than ol’ righty.

He almost dropped the glass he was carrying when he spotted you though, his grin quickly wiped from his face. Your knees were at your chin, as they had been since yesterday, and between your legs was a small puddle of blood, your navy coloured uniform shorts clearly darkened with it. Without hesitation he spun on his heel and ran for the navigation room, where he knew he'd find Kid and Killer.

The two of them were indeed there, along with Wire, scouring over maps of the nearby islands and comparing them to the log pose, trying to figure out their next move now that they were done with the months of run around you had given them. Their heads all shot up as the door flung open, a flustered Heat standing in the doorway, glass of water still in hand (though somewhat empty now, given most of it had spilt out in his hurry).

“What the fucks got your panties in a twist?” Kid grumbled, settling down the map he'd been holding.

“The girl, she's bleeding,” he huffed out between heavy breaths.

Killer was the first to move, shoving Heat out of the doorway so he could pass him, making long, fast strides to the mast where you were bound. Kid followed quickly after, already jumping to conclusions and feeling a rage brewing. The only way in his mind that you could be bleeding is if someone had attacked you, and he would torture everyone on this ship to find out who touched his new toy.

The stampede of heavy footsteps, which slightly vibrated the deck under you, woke you from your nap. You groaned a little, stretching your legs out in front of you, your knees clicking a little at the motion. The pain in your gut had definitely increased since you'd fallen asleep a few hours ago, and you wondered how much worse it was going to get. Any more and you wouldn't be able to keep up the brave face anymore. Your eyes widened in confusion as you watched Kid, Killer and the other commanders racing towards you, and you ran a montage through your mind of everything that you'd done and said since coming aboard to try and figure out what you'd done wrong to piss them off.

“Uh, hello boys?” you offered as they came to an abrupt stop in front of you.

“Heat, where's the blood?” Kid scowled, as far as he could see, you were perfectly fine.

“Uh, under her ass,” Heat replied sheepishly, hoping the others wouldn't take notice of the fact that it meant he'd been looking at your ass.

You lifted your knees in confusion and spread them, trying to look down as best you could with the restraints to see what Heat had seen. Your groin was dark with blood, and a small puddle had formed underneath you. The cogs in your brain immediately clicked into place and you groaned at the inconvenient timing.

“Relax, it's just my period,” you told them, closing your legs again, a little embarrassed. The statement only seemed to anger Kid more.

“Why the fuck would you do that now?” he growled and pointed at the blood with an accusing finger, “you're getting your gross fucking pussy blood on my deck.”

You blinked slowly and looked at Killer, thus far it was clear he was the brains of the operation, definitely not the captain who was entirely brawn, and brawn only. “He's not serious, right?”

Killer ran a hand down his mask and groaned. Kid could be smart sometimes, in his own way, but fuck could he also be dumb as hell, especially when it came to women. Kid knew where to stick his dick, and that was about the limits of his knowledge.

“She didn't do it on purpose,” Killer offered, trying to calm his captain down.

“Like hell she didn't,” he spat back.

“Women don't choose when their period happens, it just happens,” Killer tried to explain with a heavy sigh.

“Well, really, most healthy women know when to expect it, but I haven't had enough nutrition to keep it regular. I really didn't expect it, sorry,” you were trying your best to not be ashamed of this entirely natural thing, and laid your legs back down to hide the blood from Kid who was still staring at you with a confused frown.

“Can't you just hold it in or something at least?” Kid asked with a scowl.

“Not really how it works,” you sighed, “its gonna continue till my entire uterus lining is shed”

“I'm not even going to ask what the fuck you mean by that,” Kid knew a ‘uterus’ was for making babies, right? What kind of fucking horror show was this shit? You had to shed it? The whole lining? What the fuck.

“Do you need something for it?” Killer asked you.

“She's not getting shit. Besides, we don't have any of that girly shit on board,” Kid cut in before you could answer. You groaned and wished you could reach your face so you could pinch the base of your nose, with the headache that was quickly forming.

“Look, you have three options,” you said plainly, “one - you leave me here, I continue bleeding on to the deck, the blood goes rancid, I start to stink like a dead fish, then I get an infection and die. Very cool. Two - you provide me clean, dry rags and let me switch them out every four hours until we reach land, because it's going to take at least another five days to be done. Or three - you let me have a longer bathroom break, I use my devil fruit to hurry it up, I have a quick shower to clean up, and everyone goes on like nothing happened”

Kid scowled, his hands on his hips, staring down at you. His body was casting a shadow over you, and you shivered a little at the lack of warm sunlight - definitely not at how big and intimidating he was from this angle. He thought about the options, but it was clear which one was the most convenient.

“Killer, take her to your bathroom, don't let her out of your sight,” he huffed, before turning and stomping away. Wire followed him, having quickly lost interest, and Heat gave you a sympathetic smile before leaving as well. Killer quickly scanned the small crowd of henchmen and cabin boys that had stopped their chores to watch the commotion, one look from Killer was all it took to clear them off.

Without a word he knelt at the back of the mast, untying the thick ropes that held you. You used the mast to support yourself as you stood, careful to avoid stepping in the blood your unexpectedly heavy flow had left, it wasn't really that much but it would be gross to step in anyway. You ran vibrations through your body to loosen up your stiff joints, stretching your arms out above your head and rolling your sore shoulders with small popping sounds. You looked down at the blood with a flush, then back at Killer, who was quick to notice your embarrassment. He grabbed the collar of a passing cabin boy, who squeaked at the sudden forcefulness.

“Oi, clean this up,” he told the boy, pointing at the blood, before letting him go with a small shove and watching the boy scurry away to find a mop. On the bright side, the Kid Pirates were probably experts at getting blood out of the deck, given their profession. It was probably the first thing new cabin boys were taught.

Killer turned and walked away, annoyed that it was his bathroom being sacrificed, but he wasn't going to go against the captain's orders. At least he knew his room was clean, as it always was. He always kept his room tidy with militant level spotlessness, you could probably eat off any surface in his room. He took great pride in it.

You took the hint and followed close behind him, not sure what to say but thankful you would get your first shower in months. You hadn't had a tour of the ship yet, so you had no choice but to follow behind him, having no idea where the bathroom even was. You hoped they had hot water on this ship but you weren't about to get picky.

You were expecting a grody communal bathroom, something with one of those shower rooms without separations and toilet cubicles with questionable stains on the seats, so you were certainly surprised when you were led to a large, private bedroom. In the middle was a king sized bed, made up with navy sheets and royal blue blankets and pillowcases, the matching set embossed with a diamond pattern that was more matte compared to the shine of the base fabric. A lush, navy, fluffy blanket ran over the end of the bed, folded to form a tidy, decorative strip like something out of a magazine. The bed frame looked to be made out of a dark, ebony wood, and the headboard was ornately engraved with what looked like a battle scene, with the endboard similarly engraved to match. On either side sat a heavy looking side table with matching wood - all of the furniture in the room looked like part of the same, probably very expensive, set.

Hanging on the wall on either side of the bed were brass, antique looking lamps with sharp details that looked like they could injure you if you fell against them. Further out from the lamps were small porthole windows, one on either side of the bed, framed with short, navy, velvet curtains on brass rods. The room also had a large wardrobe to one side, and a short, wide set of drawers on the other, all with brass knobs that matched the side tables. Above the dresser hung an oval mirror, trimmed with an ornate brass frame that matched the lamps. The mirror was cracked and missing shards, like someone had punched it. It seemed out of place in an otherwise immaculately tidy room.

The walls of the room were painted in a calm, pale blue, the lower half shiplapped with dark wood, and on one wall, beside the wardrobe, hung several antique weapons, ranging from katanas to scimitars to daggers, all beautifully crafted and well maintained. There were no other signs of personalization in the room - no trinkets, books, stray laundry - it felt like a hotel room, not somewhere that was lived in full time. Above all, it was not what you expected to find on a pirate ship.

After several moments of gawking from the doorway, Killer gave you a shove further into the room, slamming the door behind the two of you. He strode across the room, opening a door beside the dresser, before sitting on the edge of the bed facing the open door, his arms crossed in displeasure.

“Bathroom is in there, towels under the sink,” he nodded towards the door, “hurry the fuck up, I haven't got all day”

You walked past him hesitantly, into the simple bathroom, and started to close the door, only to be met with an annoyed tut from Killer.

“Door stays open,” he told you flatly.

“Oh come onnnn,” you moaned, “you're really going to sit there and watch me? What kind of fucked up pervert are you?”

“Captain's orders,” he replied with a shrug, “he told me not to take my eyes off you, so that's what I'm doing. Don't make it weird”

“You're the one making it weird,” you mumbled, sliding off your boots, shorts and blood soaked panties down. They were nothing fancy, just boring, standard issue tightey-whiteys. You threw your jacket over the sink and sat down on the toilet the wrong way round, facing the wall, and set a hand to your stomach.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Killer grumbled, “did those marine pigs not teach you how to use a toilet?”

“Mind your business, asshole,” you grumbled, shimmying a little to get comfortable on the seat, “I'm about to strip the lining of an organ, something that should take days, in only a few minutes. Sometimes I pass out from the pain, and I'd rather not go face first into the tile.”

Killer certainly shut the fuck up at your unexpected reply, watching you with anxious concern now. There was an audible vibration as you used your devil fruit, and the trickling of blood hitting the toilet water as your uterus lining began to dislodge. You groaned in pain, white knuckling the toilet tank. Under your mask tears were starting to stream, dripping down your face and landing on the long sleeve of your shirt where you were supporting your weight on the tank. You tried your best not to scream, but it felt like you were being ripped in half as you forcibly shed the lining and contracted your muscles to push it out. Several minutes had passed, interrupted by the occasional heavy splash in the toilet as larger clots of blood exited you, before finally you gave one last grunt and a large splash below announced the bulk of your uterus lining landing in the toilet.

Immediately you passed out, the visor of your mask hitting the wall hard, and Killer rushed to keep you upright as your body began to slide sideways. There was still a quiet trickling below you, and out of morbid curiosity he looked down past your ass into the toilet. It was a bloodbath, scattered with thicker chunks that would have made a normal man gag. He couldn't help but feel sad for you that you had to force yourself to do that. He wondered how many times you'd done it before, you knew you’d pass out so clearly this wasn't your first time.

When he was sure your body was stable against the toilet, he turned away and started to run the bath, one arm still reaching towards you in case you started slipping again. There was no way he was about to let you shower when you'd just passed out, the risk of it happening again and you getting injured in the process was too high, you'd be safer in a bath, even if it wasn't part of the deal. You still weren't awake when he felt the water was deep enough to submerge your lower half, so he lifted you from the toilet and set you down in the water, your shirt getting wet in the process. He wondered whether he should start washing you, but that felt like an intrusion, so he let you be, holding you upright so you wouldn't slip into the water and drown.

Slowly, after five or so minutes, you finally came to. You weren't sure what surprised you more, the fact that you were in a bath, or Killer's arms firmly around you. You gently pushed him away, confused and embarrassed. He stood up quickly, flustered at his own impulsive actions, and grabbed a towel and hand cloth from under the sink, throwing the hand cloth at you unceremoniously and hanging the towel on the hook next to the bath before quickly leaving, closing the door behind him. Not the whole way, but enough to give you privacy.

As soon as you regained your wits you pulled off your shirt, careful to avoid pulling off your mask, and sunk into the water. You would give yourself just a few moments to compose your thoughts before you set yourself to cleaning. You looked around, observing the simple bathroom. It was entirely set with white, from the floors to the walls to the furnishings. There was a simple toilet, a cabinet sink with a mirror above it, not smashed this time, and the combination bath-shower you were currently sitting in, which was deep and wider than a normal tub to accommodate a large body. The only signs that a person used this room were the single toothbrush and toothpaste sitting in a clear, blue glass cup on the sink, and the inset shelf next to the tub, which contained various toiletries.

Careful to not take too long, lest you be dragged out, you carefully cleaned yourself with the handcloth, using a small amount of the body wash that sat perfectly straightened on the shelf next to the bath. The water quickly turned pink as the blood was shifted from your skin, and you took care to pay special attention to between your legs. There would be a few spots of blood left, but not more than what a small wad of toilet paper in your underwear could handle. You were glad too for the warm water which served to soothe your sore abdomen.

Once you were done you pulled the plug, running the water for a moment to wash away any clots of blood that threatened to remain, pushing the swirling water around with your foot. You stood awkwardly in the middle of the bathroom with the towel wrapped around you, avoiding the mirror, and trying to decide what to do about dressing. Your pants and underwear were a no-go, there was no way you were putting those back on, and your shirt was soaked from the tub. Only your socks and boots were really usable. You cleared your throat hesitantly to get Killer's attention.

“Killer?” you paused, “can I um.. could I borrow a shirt? And maybe some underwear? Briefs, preferably”

Killer kicked himself for not being more prepared - of course you needed a change of clothes, you couldn't just go back to sitting around in your own blood for another three days. He grumbled and rummaged through his drawers, pulling out a simple blue t-shirt and a pair of black briefs. He scowled at the idea of you wearing his underwear, but it was better than leaving you exposed on a ship full of men. You were standing in the doorway, wrapped in the towel, when he turned back to you. He shoved the clothes into your arms, pushing you back into the bathroom before sitting back on the bed awkwardly. ‘Fuck Kid and his stupid fucking orders’ he huffed to himself.

You quickly dressed - the shirt was extremely oversized on you, just as you had hoped, it was basically a dress. The briefs barely stayed up, but they would do to hold the small wad of neatly folded toilet paper against your center. You bundled up your wet, dirty clothes in your arms, not sure what to do with them, before exiting the bathroom.

Killer stood as you entered, observing how his shirt came midway down your calves. Till now you'd been fairly covered, but now he noticed how thin your arms and legs were, and the gentle scattering of lilac freckles that covered them, matching your hair. On your left arm, barely visible below the sleeve of the oversized shirt, was a marines tattoo. It was clear too that your wrists bore now healing rings of injury from your many years wearing seastone cuffs. They looked red and tender, but thankfully not infected.

“Um, I'm not sure what to do with these,” you said quietly, interrupting his silent examination of you.

“Give em here,” he said, taking them from you, “we'll burn them when you're done with your initiation, its tradition for ex-marines who become pirates”

“Oh, okay,” you replied, a little hopeful. Burning them sounded cathartic. Fun, even. There was a short, awkward silence before Killer cleared his throat.

“Back to the mast, then,” he said, dumping the clothes in a laundry basket in the corner of the bathroom and walking back out to where the main deck was. You followed obediently, albeit still a little sore from what you'd just done, but it was better than drawing it out or dealing with it while you were still tied to the mast.

Day 5

By the time your bathroom break came around the next day, your period was more than over with, the last few straggler drops flushed down the toilet with the wad of toilet paper you’d kept in your briefs. Well, Killer's briefs. The weather so far had been warm and pleasant, but not overly hot, since the calm spring weather from the marine base island had extended most of the way into the journey so far. Today though, the winds were shifting, turning cooler and harsher as they entered the radius of an autumn island. In hindsight, not asking Killer for pants was probably a mistake, but it was too late now. Your legs were bare to the wind, and you did your best to hold down the oversized shirt with your pinned hands to keep the wandering eyes of the crew from seeing too much. You weren’t usually shy, but the near constant attention was starting to become a bit much, and you were feeling a lot like a piece of meat dangling on a string in front of a pack of hungry wolves. You hoped the next island was close so the men could vent their frustrations on land instead of gawking at you.

Heat brought you water around noon as always, apologising profusely for overreacting yesterday. His concern was sweet, he genuinely thought you’d been hurt and it was nice to feel cared for, you couldn’t remember the last time someone had given a shit about you being hurt. Heat seemed like a nice guy, past that perpetually sad exterior, someone you could grow to trust here, definitely. Maybe even a friend. That would be nice, you hadn’t had friends since Egghead Island. You rubbed your nose against the soft, thick collar of your puffy jacket. Atlas, one of Vegapunk’s satellites, had gotten you the jacket as a leaving gift; it was one of your only possessions, one of the few things in this world you cared about. Somehow, even after all this time, it still looked and felt like new - one of the Vegapunk wonders, you guessed. You were especially thankful for it now as the wind began to chill you to the bone. You could use your devil fruit to warm yourself, but you were conserving your energy for now, since it looked like it was going to rain soon, and you’d need your limited energy more to shield yourself from it. For now, you would grin and bear it, watching the dark clouds slowly growing on the horizon ahead.

Day 6

As predicted, it began to bucket down shortly before sunrise. Killer was woken up by the thunderous sound of hail pelting against his windows, and sat up with a tired grumble, running a hand through his messy blonde bangs. It was cold, even by his standards, and he worried about you out on the deck in nothing but a thin shirt and a jacket. You were a scrawny thing, the cold probably ran right through you. Fair was fair though, you’d been warned you wouldn’t be released from the mast if a storm hit, but he wondered how mad Kid would be if his new toy died of hypothermia. With a sigh he stood up, pulling a spare blanket from the wardrobe. It was a thick wool, scratchy to the touch, but it would act as a decent barrier against the wet weather, given wool's natural hydrophobic properties. He threw on a jacket and his mask before heading out, pulling up the hood to keep the water from trickling in the holes of his mask, he fucking hated when that happened.

He wasn’t surprised to find you awake on the deck, he doubted anyone could sleep in these conditions, but he was surprised to find you completely dry. Shivering from the cold, but shielded by a small protective wall of vibrations, forming what looked like an invisible umbrella over you. You looked tired, the bags under your eyes were dark and deep, you were putting all of what little energy you had into keeping yourself dry. Your head perked up as he approached, walking slightly bent to try and keep the blanket and himself dry at the near horizontal rain.

Neither of you said a word as he looped the blanket over your shoulders, covering your head to form a makeshift hood and letting the rest pool over your front to protect your exposed legs, which were pulled up to your chest in an effort to keep yourself warm. You released the shield with a heavy exhale, nuzzling your head into the blanket and getting comfortable as your shivering finally started to come under control. The blanket was extremely insulating, and you used what tiny energy you had left to warm yourself up a little before trying to fall asleep, exhausted from using your powers for the last several hours. Content that you would be dry and warm enough, he let you be, hoping Kid wouldn’t be too mad at him in the morning when he discovered the blanket.

The rain and hail lasted the better part of the day, but thanks to the thick wool you stayed safe and dry, cocooned in the blanket. It smelled a little like musk and something spicy, a cinnamon scented shampoo maybe, and you wondered if it was Killer’s scent you were smelling on the fabric. Kid was quick to take it away as soon as the rain stopped, but otherwise didn’t reprimand Killer - he was right, Kid would be pissed if his new toy had died from exposure.

Day 7

You were downright giddy when Heat didn’t come to you with a glass of water on the seventh day, instead coming with empty hands to untie you. You squirmed excitedly as he worked at the tight knots, and when they finally released you immediately sprung up, then just as quickly fell back down, face planting right into the deck.

“Fuck, calm down girl, freedom ain’t going anywhere,” Heat laughed, pulling you up to your feet.

“Sorry,” you grinned, rubbing your sore nose under the mask where it had collided with the visor, “just excited. It's been a long time since I had any free will”

“Well, I’m happy for you,” Heat smiled as he hooked your arm around his, leading you like an old fashioned gentleman would, “come on, lets get some food in you, then I’ll give you the tour”

“I thought Kid would be the one to release me, or Killer even,” you mused.

“Usually with a new crewmate Kid would, but we’re due to reach land with a town tomorrow,” he explained, “everyone's busy finalising plans and stock lists”

“Not you though?” you asked curiously. He was a commander after all, surely he was privy to important plan making.

“Nah,” he laughed, poking you in the side playfully, “I get to skip school to hang out with your cute ass”

“Oh, you think I’m cute do you?” you giggled, skipping ahead and posing, sticking your non-existent butt out a little and holding a finger to your chin in a coy fashion.

“You’d be cuter if you weren’t so damn skinny,” he replied, motioning to you body. You pouted and came back to his side, hooking your arm back around his and letting him lead again. “You’re nothing but skin and bones, those marine cunts really fed you crumbs huh?”

“Yeah, crumbs would be too much by their standards,” you frowned.

“Well, you don’t have to worry about that anymore,” he promised, holding open the galley door for you and letting you pass him, before hooking your arm again and leading you over to where the henchmen on cooking duty had spread out the lunch options, “Kid keeps us well fed, you can’t maintain muscle without decent intake. Grab whatever you want”

He handed you a metal tray and grabbed his own, sliding it along the cafeteria style tray slide and grabbing several items. You observed the spread with hungry eyes, your mouth almost watering, before picking out a bowl of a hearty looking stew, several slices of thick bread, and a small slice of chocolate cake. Towards the end of the tray slide was a fridge with glass doors, and he pulled out two beers, offering one to you. You gave a little enthusiastic nod and he placed it on your tray before picking up both his tray and yours and carrying them to a slightly raised area. It was almost like a stage, with a single heavy mahogany table sitting across it, perpendicular to the rest of the room, surrounded by three matching chairs on either long side, and one particularly throne-like chair at one end facing the bulk of the room. The stage was awkwardly empty on either side of the table, with just a few decorative standing candelabras on it, made of delicate swirls of black metal. The rest of the galley had plain, utilitarian metal tables with attached benches, with henchmen and cabin boys spread out across them in small cliques as they ate. It seemed like the raised table was for the top dogs, and Heat placed your tray down to the left of the throne.

“Kid wants you to sit here for your meals, don’t forget it,” he told you, placing his tray down next to yours and sitting to eat. You slid into your assigned seat and started shovelling food into your face in what could only be described as an extremely unladylike fashion, and Heat laughed to himself as he watched you tear the bread and dip it in the stew, using it like a spoon, before letting out a somewhat impressive burp that had the rest of the room turn and stare in surprise. ‘Yeah, she’ll fit right in here’ he thought to himself in amusement.

You were on your second tray of food when Kid, Killer and Wire finally arrived. Kid settled into his throne, and Killer sat at his right hand, directly across from you. A henchman hurriedly placed trays of food in front of each of them, while Wire served himself and sat down next to Killer. You didn’t slow down your eating when they arrived, and they watched you with morbid fascination as you tore into a drumstick of thick meat, the juices splashing on your visor, before chugging half a bottle of beer and slamming it down, going straight back to the meat. You took notice though of Killer’s straw in his drink, and the way he cut his food into small portions so he could slide them under his mask, surprised that he didn't remove the mask even for meals.

When you were full and content, your second set of plates practically licked clean, you leaned back against your chair and sighed sleepily, patting your bloated tummy. Kid watched you with an amused smile as he ripped into his own drumstick of meat, his sharp canines making quick work of it.

“Feel better?” he laughed. You replied with a bleary nod and a quiet, happy hum.

“We’re hitting land tomorrow, Heat will take you in to town to grab whatever you need to get yourself setup here,” Kid told you, switching from his meat to his beer, “we’ll have a bonfire tomorrow night for you to burn your shit”

“Yay, shopping date with Heat!” you yelled, smacking him over the shoulder with surprising strength.

“Alright, don’t go too fucking crazy,” Kid grumbled, “whatever you spend is coming out of your share of future loot, I’m not your sugar daddy”

“That’s a shame,” you toyed, “I would have made such a good sugar baby”

Heat almost choked on his drink and started hitting himself in the chest with a closed fist to clear the blockage, and Kid shot him an unimpressed look. “I think Heat wants the position,” Wire noted.

“I’m sure Heat wants plenty of positions,” Kid laughed. To his surprise, you laughed too at the crude joke, which only made Kid laugh harder since it was all at Heat’s expense. The man in question was now blushing a bright pink, and doing his best to hide under his long blue hair.

“Aw, don’t pick on my poor, sweet Heat,” you cooed, wrapping your arms around Heat’s shoulders and nuzzling him, which only made him flush redder, “besides, he’s the only lucky one who's going to get me help pick out panties. Though I do take requests. A red lace number for you, Captain? Something blue for Killer? Maybe a classy chocolate brown set for Wire? What do you think Heat, what colour panties will suit me best? Ohh I could get a mixed pack of granny knickers for the henchmen!”

Kid was fully roaring with laughter now, and even Killer’s shoulders were moving up and down with a silent chuckle as they all laughed at Heat’s bright red face.

“Man, if I’d known a chick would be Heat’s weakness I would have brought one on board ages ago” Kid barked.

“Alright, very funny, are you done eating?” Heat huffed, pointing at your empty tray, “I have shit to do after showing you around”

“Aww Heatie baby don’t be like that,” you purred, standing up and giving him a hug around the shoulders from behind, shaking him side to side, which he allowed like a ragdoll, “come give me your grand tour then”

Heat grumbled and stood up, and you, still hugging him around the shoulders, committed to the bit and dangled down his back. He was significantly taller than you, so you were far from touching the floor. He shrugged his shoulders a few times to try and get you off, but when you didn't budge he decided to just accept his fate, stacking the empty plates and cutlery from your tray on top of his and carrying the collective pile to the serving counter for the cabin boys to clean. You barely weighed anything, so for Heat it was like wearing a backpack full of feathers. Kid continued to roar with laughter as the two of you left, giggling as you continued to dangle, half hidden against Heat's long blue hair, while Wire shouted at the two of you to use protection.

[NEXT CHAPTER]

#one piece fanfiction #one piece smut #killer one piece #killer x reader #massacre soldier killer #heat one piece #heat x reader #kid pirates

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moodymisty · 5 months

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Some of the legions disliking/hating their primarch’s beloved because they think the beloved distracts their father from his responsibilities is all fun and games until you realise that space marines are a large part of a primarch’s responsibilities. I mean, they’re not only his sons but also his army, and ever since he’s met this new mortal person he’s been taking time away from his war-related duties (a.k.a taking time away from them). So for someone as familially codependent as a space marine, the idea of their primarch possibly abandoning them because they got romantically involved with somebody is an absolute nightmare scenario.

And not only that, but the legions that are disliked by their own primarch? Like maybe the iron warriors? Ohhhh boy that’s gotta suck. Because yes their father doesn’t care for them that much and doesn’t hold them in high esteem but him leaving?? Him leaving them forever??? No way!! 10,000 holes punched in the ship’s drywall after Perturabo’s “I have a partner now” announcement happened

Agree 100%. I mean even in 30k space marines still look at their primarchs as something greater than them, to guide them, even well before 40k when the primarchs are etched in stone as gods.

So like, how do you react if your near demigod 'father' just, leaves you? Or his priorities start changing, and you can slowly see yourself and your battle brothers being slowly pushed out of the picture.

Perturabo's and Angron's announcements would probably go the worst, but I'd put Konrad and Ferrus' up there as well.

I feel like a lot of the legions hide their discontentment about the whole thing under the guise of their primarch losing focus, but I imagine deeper down they probably feel some sort of weariness. I mean, when you've been molded and cut and shaped for only war, and the person guiding that war is looking elsewhere, what is your purpose then?

#reply #Misty's book club

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haggishlyhagging · 3 months

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The extreme of the male culture has become a grotesque caricature of part of the potential inherent in every human being, whether female or male. Why are so many blind to the grotesqueness of the tough, hard, super-balls, insensitive, unemotional male image in John Wayne, James Bond, the Marines, etc.? Or so blind to the grotesqueness of the super-mind, intellect, reasoning, and abstraction removed from any connection with life in the "think tanks" of the Rand Corporation, the academy, the corporations, the Army Corps of Engineers, most scientific research, war games strategies, etc.?

The extreme of the female culture has also become a grotesque caricature of the potential inherent in every human being. Why are so many blind to the grotesqueness of the super-sex goddesses, the sex-object removed from mind and emotion, the motherhood myth, the pettily personal existence which is not allowed to transcend itself into the individual autonomous existence, the enforced delicacy without full feeling and intensity, the sentiment turned into bathos because removed from direct sexual or creative expression, etc.?

The abstractions of male and female are extreme and many people are not molded wholly into either category—there is a great deal of overlap. But no one in the society is allowed to be a whole human being as long as the tyranny of the male and female culture or sex role split exists.

Recently there has been an unfortunate reaction among some women's liberationists and feminists. Some women have begun to call anything which they do not like "male." They seem to think that anything that has been defined as a "male quality" is inherently bad. A woman who is strong or takes initiative is told that she is "acting like a man" or "talking like a man." The crushing of initiative and strength and self-expression in women is now being done by other women in the movement under the guise of "anti-elitism," "anti-male-identification," and "collective self-suppression." It would be a tragedy if women were to make our oppressed state into a virtue and a model of humanity and the new society. We need to sift out what is good in our imposed definition as females and to honestly examine what is stupid and self-destructive. We need also to sift out what is good in what has been defined as male and therefore denied expression in us. We need no more glorification of the oppressed and their "super-soul" and "superior" culture, for that will blind us to our weaknesses and only lead us back into the same mire from which we have been trying to free ourselves.

-Barbara Burris, ‘The Fourth World Manifesto’ in Radical Feminism, Koedt et al (eds.)

#Barbara Burris #masculinity and femininity #women’s liberation #radical feminist theory #sex roles

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ohnomyhooves · 2 months

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Honestly I kinda believe that during the period where cora had yoinked law to try and find him a doctor but before doffy knew this was a full and proper betrayal he might’ve been kinda… pleased with it? It makes sense to me idk. Cora is showing a truely bloodthirsty protective of the family side he hadn’t dove into in burning the hospitals that shun law and this is probably the first instance of cora actively caring for the rest of doffys ‘family’ that he’s seen. Sure corazon is going a bit rogue but a dragon takes what they want and at least his brother isn’t being passive and weak about doing so now. I feel like the reason doffy was so calm with this divergence was bcos he saw this as the first step in a true integration that hasn’t occurred so far, and if law is Cora’s therapy kid for it he’s still in the family and it might save the kids life to boot

Oh my gosh, I had never considered that, but that makes so much sense! I love the idea that Doffy saw it as Cora finally starting to care about the Family when so far he’s been largely distant from them and especially not good to the kids, thanks to his guise of hating kids and kicking them around because he wants them to leave. Because you’re right, Doffy wasn’t mad about it when it happened and before he found out about Cora being from the Marines, and that’s especially proven by the fact that he didn’t call more than once (actually, I don’t remember if he called at all, initially?) and didn’t send anyone after them. Doffy absolutely would have sent someone after them or gone searching himself if he was angry about that.

The idea is a little heartbreaking, though– it makes the actual betrayal a lot worse from Doffy’s perspective, because here he thought Cora was finally starting to care about the Family and integrate with them, but shortly thereafter he learns that Cora has been an undercover Marine all along. That’s got to leave such a bad taste 🥹

#donquixote doflamingo #donquixote corazon #trafalgar law #ask ohnomyhooves

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gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan · 4 months

Text

No Longer You

Author's note: Alpharius 'Chief' 'Zarius' debut!

Summary: Zarius muses on the nature of things, and how Black Templars are Selfish Pricks.

Warnings: jealousy, spying, let me know if I need to add anything.

Tagged: @barn-anon, @bleedingichorhearts, @c-u-c-koo-4-40k, @egrets-not-regrets, @kit-williams

Tagged: @sleepyfan-blog, @whorety-k

He's swimming in one of the oceans on Ancient Terra, arriving here had not been apart of his original goal or mission he'd been assigned by his Captain, and finding ways to link up with the local Alpha legion outpost, Loyalist faction, and not Chaos or Renegade had taken some... careful maneuvering. He's not in his teal and silver ringed octopus true form. But that of an Ultramarine. As an Alpha Legionare he's been trained in a myriad of things, also, as a 'Scout' in the guise of another legion he'd been picked to be an Apothecary, he'd been flattered and honored, because being entrusted with the duties of an Apothecary, and one in training are heavy and many, learning how to heal (and subsequently) more ways to take a person apart, both Astartes and base line human had been handy.

Astartes have to have some level of trust with Apothecaries, he's heard many a confession, and seen all manner of things in his time as an 'Apothecary' it's one of the ways he's been able to help the Alpha Legion hide among the other shoals and pods, when certain Paranoid cousins suspected one of his brothers to be Not One of Them, but A Two-faced Shape-shifting shit head, he'd be called in to test the gene-seed contained within the suspect individual. Depending on his mission, and what the actual truth of the matter was, truth, lies, and what is real and actually are in fact, more fluid.

The Alpha Legion is woven through the fabric of the Imperium, and through every chapter within the Space Marine Legions, to monitor and guide things, an unseen hand guiding and shaping events to the will and whim of their eldest brothers. He's never actually outed a True Brother- but if a certain person needed to be... removed well then, an Apothecary does his best, but you can't save everyone.

He's in the form of an Ultramarine. Most tend to have some level of trust, well perhaps not for Chaos or Renegade, or at least acknowledgement that the 13th legion are Bastards, but are Competent Bastards. He makes sure that he's far enough away from the Ultramarine shoal and sends an encoded message to his local handler, they haven't met in person, yet, after all, the Space Marines that they are hiding as haven't met, and it would be odd as a Chaos and Loyalist, even with The Alliance, seen to be so... cordial without more battle brothers nearby. Especially since Alpharius is in the guise (and the training) of an Apothecary.

Honestly, why do other chapters fuss over their Apothecary brothers so much? As an Alpha legionary, he's taught how to patch himself up, and if things go side ways, and very bad, how to take out their own gene-seed and find a way to safeguard and send a signal to the nearest Alpha Legionary to have it picked up and their body burned. He's been hearing some Concerning things about some of the hard liner shoals, a War Band (although the Black Templars are trying to have it changed to a Crusade) are nearby and are causing no end of Headaches.

It's terribly entertaining, but he has to warn his handler, who's both in a Chaos form, and much to his distaste, also Chaos Aligned. He hopes that his fellow Alpha Legionary is not actually a Chaos Marine, but is truly loyal, but had been ordered to Fall. It's... he sucks in his teeth as he keeps that Ultramarine Expression on his face, he's heard that two of his pod brothers have Fallen, due to orders. It's... hard hearing that. He hopes they regain their equilibrium soon and are better able to serve the plans and plots of the Alpha Legion Captains. Being on Ancient Terra could give them some unprecedented ability to get certain things really rooted.

They are able to keep certain... unsavory things from spreading wildly. Monitoring Ancient Terra's "internet" for certain trigger phrases that had things carefully monitored and wiped. Various organizations and cults that have sprung up in predictable response to the Space Marines and much to their dismay, the very few and rare Custodes arrival are being monitored and ... handled by other brothers. He only knows that much, no one brother knows everything, after all, if you are caught, other space marines try to squeeze as much information out of them as possible.

He knows, if the shoal he swims with ever find out that his colors are untrue that they will turn on him. He's had to deal with the aftermath of brothers being Found Out, back in the 40th millennium and also now. It's very are for it to happen now, there are much fewer of them, and of all the legions. They will turn on him, and their fury and rage will be swift, brutal and cruel, at least they are a Loyalist Shoal, the Renegades and the Chaos Shoals would do far, far worse to him if they find out his scales are teal and silver. Then again, it depends very much on which Loyalist shoal finds out, if they ever do.

He's heard rumblings about Primaris marines from some of the furthest in time brothers and cousins, and he's ever so curious about them. Having heard that a few of them have made a splash in their local communities, he's terribly curious and wants to meet one of them if at all possible. Also, its a part of the standing orders from their Captains, they need to try and find and assess the threat levels of the Primaris Marines to be able to interact and manipulate them accordingly. A challenge is something to be Overcome. He's also heard of Bonds, and how no Alpha Legion has never been able to have a True bond, what their cousins speak of, and that sends a pang of longing, jealousy and hurt stabbing through his hearts.

He's heard of Alpha Legion pods swarming a single individual and protecting that one human, keeping them preciously safe and theirs, but those false bonds work, only so long as their True Bonded doesn't show up and take the human away from the Alpha Legion pods, and they do take them away, every single time, the human choose the Other over them. Such is their burden, such is what he will bear it, and endure they must. As much as he longs for a bond, it also comforts him, the bonds are clearly Warp Fuckery, and the fact that it happens and the way the bonds have different intensities is endlessly fascinating. Also he's having a private laugh at the fact that the stubborn- idiot sons of Dorn, the Black Templars attempt to break the bonds (selfish, bastards, at least they can bond, ungrateful to abandon such a precious things) unless they get hit with an Intense or Strong bond, which means they suffer for it, harshly, and it will kill them, or nearly so, and their brothers drag them back and throw them at the human in angry despair.

So stubborn, and stupid, and selfish and- he takes a deep breath, holds it, and lets it go, so he's been near those annoying Black Templars too much. As an Apothecary, they demand his time, because the idiots get themselves into scraps with the Chaos Shoals, regardless of the difference in strength and numbers, and the fact that there are some treaties in place between some of the larger shoals. Such troublesome cousins, it would be a... shame is the Black Templars heard that some of the local Loyalist pods have a treaty with some of the local Chaos Pods.

For the shouty, charging, stab happy sons of Dorn would Rage and try to stab Everybody. which would ensure that they are chased out of the area, and are further socially isolated and given less in resources from the rest of the loyalists in this area. Which would serve them right, and that would mean that the poor stubborn idiot that he's got the misfortune to attend to in his guise as an Apothecary will be taken by his brothers. The 'poor thing' is suffering from breaking, or at least trying to break his bond.

Something within 'Zarael' reels back and hisses at how ungrateful the Stubborn Idiot is being. He won't breathe a word that he should be grateful to have such an opportunity, and it would fall on deaf ears for the Templars- and have certain other ears prick up in curiosity. Besides, if the idiot is able to break the ‘weak’ bond an Alpha Legionary will slide into place and soothe the poor rejected human and tend to them, and see if they can try to bind the human to himself, and potentially his pod of brothers. Another thing he's curious about is if any of the Primaris Marines are little brothers in disguise. Hearing what he has about the Primaris Marines having chimeric gene-seed, and from what some of the farthest in the future 41st millennium brothers have said, Primaris Marines are blends of Loyalist and Traitor Gene-seed. So it's very likely they have Little Brothers who have a gene-seed that would get them caught out.

#warhammer 40k #space marine husbandry sentience #space marine husbandry #warhammer #adeptus astartes #mermay #mermay 2024 #mermay 40k #poor unfortunate souls au #poor unfortunate souls #alpha legion #alpha legion oc #oc: Alpharius #oc: Zariel #oc: Chief #'ultramarine' oc #apothecary

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sleepyfan-blog · 5 months

Text

Chase

Author’s note: The fourth fic for Nadesir! previous. Next

Tagged: @egrets-not-regrets @the-pure-angel @kit-williams

Warnings: kidnapping, violence, ask me if you want me to tag something else

Summary: Nadesir catches the trail of one of the lurking Alpha Legionnaires, but something more worrying comes up.

Nadesir silently made his way through the forest, using his wings to keep from leaving tracks on the ground. For reasons known only to them, the Dark Angel Interrogator Chaplain and the squad he had brought with him had decided to linger in the small human town, and had been terrorizing random Astartes by asking questions that made no fucking sense to him. Perhaps it was a Loyalist thing that they were chasing? Not that the Night Lord Raptor had made it his business to find out what the Dark Angels were up to - though he hoped that they would fuck off soon. With the Alpha Legionaries somewhere in the forest that he was currently flying through doing fuck knows what, the presence of another group of deeply mysterious and secretive Astartes was... Not great. While he was looking for four-legged prey to hunt, Nadesir was keeping a careful eye on his surroundings, just in case he caught a glimpse of a hydra lurking in these woods, or to catch their trail.

If he could find where they were hiding out in - when not sneaking around the town in the guise as other marines - it might help? If he could make his way through the Alpha Legion base, try to snoop through their things, to see if they had any plans written down - likely coded, if it was written down - he and the other bonded Astares who lived with their humans might have a clue as to what those teal-hued snakes were after. Not that Nadesir was of the opinion that they should give the Alpha Legionaries whatever it was they were after. Not with the underhanded groxshit that they've been pulling for months now.

Snap!

A branch broke loudly, startling the Night Lord, and Nadesir choked back the instinctive desire to hiss or growl at whatever had made such a sound, whirling where he was hovering to try and see the cause of the broken branch. At first, all he could see were several different kinds of trees - odd, as none of them were the type of tree to shed branches at this time of year unless the tree was damaged or sick somehow - when he saw a flash of teal and silver. A vicious smirk spread across his face beneath his helmet as he flew as swiftly and as silently as he could manage toward the brightly colored flash he'd seen.

He quickly approached where he'd seen the initial flash of silver and teal, noting that particular Alpha Legionnaire had indeed been caught in the deadfall trap that he'd left out for unwary prey, from the destroyed trap and the scrapings of paint on the underside of the large and heavy branch the other had likely been trapped - or partially - trapped under. There were a set of Astartes-sized footprints for him to follow deeper into the woods. The smirk on his face broadened to a grin, and he was about to fly off to hunt down his two-legged prey when he paused for a moment as he got a message from his bonded.

[You busy, Vanya?]

He hesitated for a moment before answering, using the text-to-speech feature in his helmet (making sure that his external comms were off - no need to potentially tip off to his prey that he was closeby) [Somewhat, but never too busy for you. Did you need something? I am on a hunt.]

[Oh, have fun! I just thought I saw you at the grocery store. Must have been another Night Lord.] She said, unintentionally causing Nadesir to panic a little.

He didn't know of any other Night Lords who lived in this area, and there were no Night Lords in the migratory war bands who passed through this town. At least, that had been true the last time one of the warbands had passed through, and they'd come and gone before this group of Alpha Legionnaires had decided to be spooky bastards. [... Be careful, darling. Most of my brothers are... Spectacular in how poorly socialized they are, to use your words. And it's possible that the Night Lord You saw was actually one of the shape-shifter Astartes borrowing someone else's form.]

[I'll keep that in mind. Have fun on your hunt, Vanya!] She texted back [I'll tell you when I get home.]

[See you soon, this hunt shouldn't take long.] Nadesir promised, anxiety and determination making his hearts beat quickly. He was torn between his desire to run the Alpha Legionnaire to ground, and flying back to his bonded... Especialy with this suspect Night Lord in town, he was worried that this might be some kind of trap or bluff -

Snap!

Another broken branch. Another flash of teal and silver paint.

A silent snarl left Nadesir as he lunged for his prey, while also making sure to send all of the information he'd gathered on this hunt to the Ultramarine Lieutenant who'd been put in charge of handling all information that the allied Astartes in the area had gathered on their wholly unwelcome visitors. That way if he was captured or went completely silent, they had some sort of clue as to what had happened to him.

The trees were too close together for Nadesir to fly properly, but he leapt from branch to branch in the upper canopy, gliding on silent wings as he sought out the Alpha Legionnaire he'd caught sight of twice, one hand on his bolter, the other helping to steady himself on the branch he leapt to, to keep from making too much noise.

It did not take long for the Night Lord to catch up with the single Alpha Legionnaire who was limping on the ground.

...

Why was there only one of them? Of the traitor legions (were Alpha legionnaires traitor? They were labeled such by the Loyalists, but Nadesir wouldn't be surprised if the true answer was much more complicated. Even so, was this Alpha Legionnaire a traitor, or was he from a time before the Horus Heresy?) the Alpha Legion almost never splintered off into groups fewer than two. He looked for signs of more Alpha Legionnaires, but did not find any. He kept pace with the bastard Hydra limping around on the ground, careful to keep behind him and moving as silently as possible, in the hopes that if the other did not know he was there, that he would not alert the other to his presence. And the injured Alpha fucker definitely seemed to be headed in a specific direction, rather than wandering around aimlessly.

Nadesir stalked the injured Alpha Legionnaire from the forest canopy, resisting the urge to swoop down and pounce on the bastard - to tear him limb from limb and leave a pretty little warning for his fellow teal fucks to find in the woods - patience was the mark of a true hunter, and if he was lucky, the other would lead him directly to wherever it was the group of Alpha Legionnaires were lairing. Hours passed, and the Alpha legionnaire eventually limped up a well-worn forest trail to a wooden cabin, knocking on it four times before entering.

Anticipation sung through the Night Lord's veins, but he again sent his current coordinates and a short explanation as to what he'd found to Lieutenant Ollias. He paused for a moment, realizing that his beloved bonded had sent him three more messages, while he'd been focused on the hunt, each more concerning than the last.

[I'm almost home, but I think I'll need to spend some time at a neighbor's place. I think someone's following me.]

then

[How badly socialized are most Night Lords, again? The one from the grocery store is trying to talk to me. Says he can smell you on me?]

and finally, a terrifying

[Help! He's ajklreg-]

The timestamp was half an hour ago. No no no no no! Nadesir knew that he should have turned around and gone to his beloved at the first mention of another Night Lord. It was too unusual a happenstance for it to be a good thing, and he couldn't shake the feeling that something awful had happened to his bonded. He could only hope that she was still alive. He'd been told by older Astartes that they had felt when their human had died. Had felt the bond snap as their sanity waned. Forcing down the panic, Nadesir closed his eyes as he reached out to the wonderful, strange bond that he had with his beloved human, trying to get a general sense of where she was, his body already moving towards where she was by the time he opened his eyes again.

He could hear and smell the large, unmarked van coming minutes before it arrived, its noisy engine and awful pollutants chugging along, with his bonded inside of it. The van was moving at speed - but no faster than Nadesir himself could run. He silently judged the distance before landing on the roof of the van with an unfortunate thud.

Nadesir dug his claws into the roof of the van, the inferior metals bending and buckling beneath his strength and frantic determination. the metal shrieked and screeched as he tore open a hole large enough to see what was going on.

His human was bound and gagged, held in place by a wide-eyed human male. She was struggling against him. There were several other humans in the van, two of whom were also bound and gagged, the other six trying to keep them in place. All three of the captured humans were bonded to Astartes. He leaned in, growling in the dominant human language "I don't care what foolishness you think you're up to, but I will be taking the humans you are foolishly attempting to kidnap. Resist and I will kill you."

"Y-y-you wouldn't dare!" One of the capturing humans stuttered. He stunk of fear and was dressed in a black suit and tie, with a white under-shirt. "I-I am-"

"I. Don't. Care. Who. You think you are. You attempted to kidnap my bonded, and the bonded of two others I consider allies and friends. Then again, I could leave you stranded here. The Hydra hunt in this region. I'm sure they would feast upon your fear and helplessness before tearing you apart." Nadesir hissed. Or he could leave them for the Salamanders to find. While they were loving and soft to those whom they cherished... Well, these idiots definitely would have roused the fury of the dragons. And enraged Salamanders were breathtakingly vicious and cruel.

"We... We... We still have a working-" Suit and tie stuttered uselessly.

Nadesir ignored his babbling, looking over to his beloved - who continued to struggle furiously against her captor. He reached for her, cutting the ropes off of her, offering her his combat knife "I'm going to stop the vehicle. I imagine these two's bonded aren't far behind you." He gently bumped his helmeted head against her forehead in a gesture of affection. "Strike hard and fast, my heart." Before he crawled back on top of the van, pulling his bolter from it's holster and shooting at the hood of the van, aiming for where the engine probably was, and blowing a large hole through the middle of it.

There was a lot of panicked shouting and wailing from the would-be kidnappers. Their symphony of fear was almost enough to provoke Nadesir to purr - but he wouldn't. Not until his precious human was safe. And that the other kidnapped humans were safe too.

Sure enough, he could see several large green Astartes sprinting down the road towards the rapidly slowing van. He waved at them from his perch, calling out to them over vox {You here to retrieve our kidnapped humans?}

{Yes! Your appearance is timely, if surprising. We were told you were on a hunt?} The lead Salamander asked. He was one of the Primaris Marines - larger and allegedly better than first born marines. The young dragon was sure a fast fucker, at any rate. Nadesir wasn't sure what his name was.

{I was. Then my human texted me for help, so I followed my bond to where my human is. I've given her my combat knife and freed her hands and legs, so the others who were captured are going to be freed soon too.} Nadesir explained, looking back into the hole he'd created. Sure enough, his beloved had freed the other two bonded humans - and was threatening Suit-and-Tie human at knife point, using methods he'd taught her. He's so proud of her. He calls out to her "Are you ready to go, love? Or do you want to kill your would-be capturer? Or I could kill him for you, and give you his heart to devour. Or his liver. Or both!" He was... Mostly joking. He knew that cannibalism wasn't something that most humans on ancient terra did unless under extreme circumstances and desperate. But he was leaning into the terrifying reputation that his legion had earned on Ancient Terra.

"... I'd rather they face the justice system, then have them killed out of hand, Vanya. Even if this shithead's parents are wealthy enough to pay off the courts." His human huffed, glaring darkly at suit-and-tie.

"Mmm, the squad of angry Dragons says otherwise, dearheart." Nadesir crooned. He doubted that these would-be kidnappers would last long in captivity, unless they had some very compelling information to give to the local chapter masters. "Then again, the Interrogator Chaplain has been getting restless... I'm sure he'd be delighted to... Mete out the due justice these fools have earned." Oh look, and the scary bastard and his posse were following the squad of furious Salamanders. "You never should have kidnapped our humans. Ready to go home, darling?"

His human blinked and smiled, handing him his combat knife. Instead, he picked her up, nuzzling her lovingly. "I thought you wanted to hunt?" she asked, confused.

"If you think that I am going to be anywhere but at your side for months after you got kidnapped, you should reconsider that idea. I... I am sorry to have failed in protecting you, beloved." Nadesir rumbled, guilt and shame gnawing at him. One of the would-be kidnappers tried to reach for a weapon, but with a flick of his wrist, he cut the bastard's offending hand off with one of his claws without looking.

"Hey... It wasn't your fault I got grabbed, love. And you came to get me as soon as you knew I was in trouble. I... I'd like to go home now. I'll talk to whoever Captain Urar sends to talk to me about what happened tomorrow." His beloved responded, shaking a little as she buried her face in his chest.

Nadesir kissed the top of her head. It was still a failure on his part that she'd gotten kidnapped - perhaps he needed to ensure his reputation was terrifying enough that none would dare approach her with covetous thoughts? Ah, but he didn't want to potentially scare her away, either... These were things to consider later, however. The squad of Salamanders had arrived and he nodded politely to the sergeant leading them, saying "I'm going to take my human home. We'll both give full reports of what we know happened tomorrow."

"That works for me, go on home." The sergeant responded. "And yes, I'm aware of the Pride half a klik behind me. They're bored and frankly, I think that letting them handle the idiots would be entertaining."

The night lord raptor nodded, holding his human closer as he took to the skies. She slowly started to relax in her arms, the fear and anxiety in her scent giving way to wonder and delight. She always did really enjoy it when he took her for a flight.

#space marine husbandry sentience #warhammer 40k #my writing #space marine husbandry #night lords #alpha legion #salamanders #dark angels #x reader #cw: kidnapping #cw: violence

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