#I WAS SO SCARED SHE HAD GOTTEN OUTSIDE OR WAS DEAD IN THE WALLS OR SOMETHING OMGGG

[butterflybabiie]

my cat was IN THE CEILING

[writella]

Screwed Up and Brilliant

Synopsis: Negan is ready for you. Daryl isn’t; and maybe he’ll never be. Negan makes that clear to you tonight.

Details: Negan Smith x fem!reader, Daryl Dixon x fem!reader (mentioned), Negan is a bad guy but there is nuance— at least I hope I accomplished doing so, angst, guilt, forbidden love, probably super stereotypical, reader at the Sanctuary, moral dilemma reader (but you got to understand, they’re both so fine!!), I feel like I need more cws but I can’t think of them and of course, smut, 18+: consensual, unprotected, vague dacryphilia, soft? dom!Negan, lite daddy kink, fingerings, riding, and basically just Negan blowing your brains out… but not in the walker way— the good way, the way we like. Amen.

A/N: Could you believe I started writing this in October or something? This is my first time writing Negan and I’m scared I may not have gotten it right so definitely feel free to give notes! This is set during season 7/8, I’m picturing Negan at the end of 8 and later seasons but there’s something about him older that gives me heart eyes everywhere, but whatever you prefer makes me happy. Anyway, from my heart, and maybe somewhere a little lower, to yours; with love from writella. ♡

You’re screwed up and brilliant, look like a million-dollar man; so why is my heart broke?

—— LDR, Million Dollar Man

The space was clean; minimal. The kind that let out no secrets of the owner that inhabited its insides. And of course there were the little things that let out some slight details: the ashtray on the nightstand— a smoking habit; a ring, a metal chain, another of black rope— an unsuspected, albeit small, interest in jewelry; the bottom nightstand closed by a lock—mysterious and cautious, though that was to be expected. It was only reasonable he’d have something he wanted hide. But other than that, Negan’s bedroom was quite unreadable; almost purposefully mundane.

There was a fireplace, a window at the corner, and a bed at the center. It had a dark, brass, rusted headboard that leaned against the wall. Two pillows at either side. The sheets were white, and the large blanket was of fur, a tan or medium brown, it was thick and heavy. Probably unnecessary for the approaching spring heat, but it adored the bed end well; matching the other bronze, or brown, wooden and darker aspects of the room. Even the light from the small fire, though you could see clearly, made everything mildly dim— the Sanctuary wasn’t known for its brightness after all.

And truly, nothing in this bedroom, or in this fortress of a place could be described as anything close to bright. Unless you counted the sun outside in the courtyard, or the largest fireplace that blazed in the main hall, or Negan’s piercing, priceless smile— so pristinely white, so wide it almost looked painful to perform. There was an eeriness to it as well. That was at the forefront, and everyone saw it. With the way he maintained their cleanliness, it was something that could look so pure, so put-together on any other; but on him, its power could scare you into worthlessness. It’s the one he used when he told someone what to do even if they hated it; it’s the one he used when killing someone’s best friend.

It’s also the one he used on the first day he ever spoke to you. The first time that truly mattered, really.

It was during Negan’s first supply gathering at Alexandria.

You still remember it well.

Your faces filled with desolation, but chins held high; you were strong— good at hiding the pain, the fear— only straight, pokered eyes and mouths allowed as everyone silently agreed with you. You had told Negan that Maggie was dead.

The Widow, he had coined her. The wife of your good friend that he killed— so generous a man was Glenn, even when he wasn’t trying to be. And she’s your friend too, brave Maggie. That’s the one he wanted, but as far as he knew, she was gone.

Thank God, you thought, Thank God, yes, indeed, until—

Negan’s eyes glazed over your frame for just a moment too long.

You weren’t speaking anymore. You kept it short enough. He should have turned his attention back to Rick but he didn’t.

Where there was sly roguery in Negan’s eyes, anxiety weld in the looks of all others: Rick’s throat tensed and tightened uneasily, sweat trailing down his curls and onto his forehead; Rosita’s jaw clenched with bitterness, brows furrowing under her green khaki cap with anger; and then there was Gabriel: his eyes turned from solemnity and pretend peacefulness to wide bewilderment. The plan you two exchanged had worked: you would tell Negan of Maggie’s passing, as per your idea, and Gabriel would swiftly solidified your lie by saying he was the one who officiated the short funeral. But then, another problem arose; one where he could be nothing else but helpless in aiding you. What was he, or anyone to do? It was easy to help Maggie, she was more than twenty miles away. But you, you were here. Right in front of him.

“Wait a minute…” Negan’s pointer shakes lightly by his temple, his mind turning curiously. “You.” He said, shooting his finger in the direction of your chest.

His smile, mischievous as ever, only grew wider as a moment passed and he made his realization: “You’re the one with that- tight- grip!” He balled his raised hand into a fist as he said it. A slight snicker came after, proud of his entendre. “My men were tryna put Daryl in the trunk and you latched onto his foot like it was your dying- act- which—” you attempt to lessen the startle in your eyes at his upward hitch in tone, “—it most certainly could have been.”

Negan comes closer now, his face nearing your own, “But you know better now, right?”

Obviously, you did not.

Or you would have stayed home, not given him the chance to remember you as he said he would after your nails could no longer claw into Daryl’s ankle. He was thrashing too much and Negan’s men pushed you away; they were too strong together against the two of you. They kicked dirt in your face for it, held a gun to your head until Negan told them to stop. His point was made with your two friends he had killed, no need for another— especially not one who amused him like you had just done.

‘DAYUM. She is surprisingly strong!’ He had yelled, ignoring the weeping faces of you and the group kneeling in a line on the ground; sweat, blood, and tears dripping everywhere. ‘And I do like ‘em loyal…’ He had given you a once over while telling his men, ‘Hands off, gentlemen,’ and before returning his attention back to Rick, he added, ‘I’ll keep my eye on you.’

And he did.

You made an impression.

Now you’ll pay.

Rick should have told you why he wanted you to stay with Judith. He remembered what Negan said too. He remembered what Negan said to everyone. He couldn’t forget. But maybe it didn’t matter. It was only the start of Negan’s day here. Maybe he would have found you anyway.

Rick would feel it was all his fault nonetheless, but all you could think about is how truly, it was your own, and no one’s at all.

The sun allows glints of wickedness to sparkle in the whites of Negan’s teeth as he continues imparts his demand, “From now on, don’t stop me when I’m giving an order, okay?” It’s like you can hear him underlining his words just with his darkened voice. Turning his waist, he extends his hand to everyone as he finishes, “And that goes for all of you.”

You force your face to remain leveled as he meets your eyes again, that cheshire look returning directly toward you. He curls his head to the side, whispering near your profile, “So… you’re his girl, huh?”

Your mouth becomes slightly agape. You don’t even realize it before you can try to close it. He asked the question of aversion, or at least that’s what you assumed it was to Daryl.

You knew it was just his way, that speaking about things like this might have not been his strong suit. Besides, there were more things to worry about almost all the time, but it still hurt to know that when asked, the only complete and honest answer there could be was no.

Your eyes trail down slowly, desperate to avoid his, and Daryl’s face— a few feet away from you— turning to the side, looking at nothing. He could not hear what was being asked, but maybe Rick did, Rosita and Gabriel too. It was unclear, but their eyes prodded with more tension, more worry, Daryl could register that, and even more so, he could not stand Negan’s face that close to yours; he was probably trying to make an advance on you, scare you, or both. He pretends not to care, but ultimately it’s useless. Negan detects your expression and turns to look at Daryl’s; he notices both failing attempts at impassivity.

“Oh,” he muses, voice returning to its normal volume, “or not, my bad…. I guess that does make more sense though.” He speaks louder now, casually, like he’s a close friend consoling you about your boy troubles, “I personally haven’t been able to hold a conversation with the guy either, and I’m just tryna be friends.”

Daryl was right. Negan was weaseling his way in. He snarls because of it.

Only Dwight hears this and sends him a warning glare.

You feel the sweat beading from your hairline to the nape of your neck. The danger felt from Negan’s presence was as thick as the sun’s heat that shone directly on the cemetery grove. It’s hard to look up and especially to look at him directly for that long as if he truly was the fire in the sky, so you look down again.

Negan pats your shoulder sympathetically, his hand then going to hold up your chin, his thumb tracing your jaw softly.

It makes Daryl’s arms twitch and his stance jerks forward, but he’s pushed back, Dwight beating him on the chest. It’s only once but you can hear it, everyone heard it.

It only makes Negan’s grin become more sly because— there it is— a reaction; an answer. It makes what he’s about to do that much more sweet: “Fuck, darlin’. I’m sorry. Idiot,” he tisks. Then more quietly he adds, “I’m not one though.”

This time it’s for sure: Rick caught that, and Rosita too. They give each other an alarming look as Negan continues to trail over your dispirited form, like a wilted flower. His hand lowers back down to your shoulder, then trails to your arm, to the elbow, and then off of you entirely.

Despite the feeling of Lucille under his grasp telling him he shouldn’t, Rick urges himself to speak before Negan says what they all know is coming. “Negan,” he starts, swallowing the slight shake in his voice, “would you like to see the pantry—”

“Did I ask you to speak, Rick?” Negan states, his frame still positioned in front of you. “I’m thinkin’ here… I’m thinkin’… particularly, that you should come with me.”

Daryl makes a sound that you couldn’t hear, for Dwight was already barking a “Shut up,” at him. Only the swat he gives to Daryl’s shoulder is what is once again heard by all.

You almost choke on your gasp, but you hold it in. Only letting out the faintest sound as you ask, “What?”

“You heard me,” he plainly says. “I mean, what do you even do here anyway?”

You almost felt embarrassed to answer.

“No, I’m askin’. Seriously. Does Rick actually utilize you?”

As you begin, your voice is still quiet, “I… I work in the garden, with the produce… I help tutor the kids… I go on runs, gather supplies. I cook. Help with weapons maintenance, I—” you stop, realizing your grocery list of jobs probably sounds pathetic to him, you’re like a chore boy, “— I do a lot. But everyone does.”

“Hm,” Negan responds, playing with his nails nonchalantly. Your thoughts come to fruition with his next words, “So you’re just everyone’s helper?”

He noticed the sad offense emanating from your eyes, so he raised his hands, “And those are important things to do, I mean it. It must mean you know quite a bit from everyone, that’s smart, and there’s no trouble in it. But… I saw you. I think you can do more.”

“How?” You can still only gasp out your words. “I’m not Maggie. And she’s not here.”

“No.” He brings up one finger, “But you’re clever,” you look at him confused as he brings up his middle finger to join the first, “and quick on your feet, that I now know.” A third and fourth finger comes up, “You’re strong, you’re loyal— things I’ve stated before.” Then the fifth he says with a smug smile, “And you’re a looker, I must admit.” He moves his hand to one side of his mouth, pretending to secretly tell you, “But that’s just a plus,” he winks. “And more importantly, it seems to me that just like most people in Prick’s community, you are undervalued and not paid attention to whereas I see potential.” He says it all so simply, he truly believes he’s offering you so much better that he finally ends by saying: “Hm. Yeah. I think you’ll be much better off with me.”

And so, with no true goodbyes said, in a van you went after Negan’s visit was done. A different one from Daryl’s, of course. Taken away from the first home you had in ages.

Before the trunk door closed, Negan gave you parting words: “You see?” He had said, “I told you I’d remember you, didn’t I?”

The words rang in your ears for the entire ride as they still do now, even more or less than two months later as you sit in his room.

Your heartbeat started to rise little by little as time went on and he hadn’t arrived. With the window allowing you to escape into thought, you were left to think about the last couple of days, and specifically, the last time you were in here:

You were sitting with him on his bed. You had asked if you could talk about anything other than the world you two lived in now, and surprisingly, he obliged. It was nice. Sometime later, he had finally opened that locked drawer.

You heard him suck his teeth, what he was getting seemed lost, which allowed you to take a closer peek inside.

There was a picture of a woman. The first wife? The only real one? You couldn’t tell and you wouldn’t ask, it would have been too much. You didn’t even get a good look at the woman anyway— part of her face was covered and he was fast. But he saw your eyes, so you decided to take note of the books you caught a glimpse of, pretending it was the only thing you saw. You try to think of something to say… It did make sense he was a reader, at least even mildly if that was all it was. The way he describes his ideals, his persuasiveness, his diction— it impressed you, even if you disagreed with a lot of it. It was almost ironic that the only cover you saw was of a dictionary, the more valuable ones probably hidden under. “Is that where you get all your big boy words from?” You asked.

“Some of them,” he joked back, composing himself.

It was strange to almost catch him off guard. It was so unlike him to allow it, but what happened next felt even more surprising.

Whatever he got from the drawer was enclosed in his hand. He put the free one on top of the other as he started, “Now… I don’t want you thinking I’m growing soft on you. I just thought you deserve it because—” and then his voice fades. Even Negan, the ever curse-filled wordsmith, was finding it hard to describe in any other way that he was pleased with something as absurd as you not trying to escape anymore. He knew you would probably think that was the only reason for a gift, but then he opted for something that even you couldn’t help but know was equally true, “You don’t seem to proactively hate me anymore. You’re here. I appreciate it, so I wanted to,” he says sincerely. “That’s all.”

Negan opened his hand, resting the piece in your palm— it was a locket; lovely and rusted floral engravings all over it.

You felt sad that you thought it was beautiful, and even worse for knowing the reasons why he was giving it to you. No wonder his voice had faltered.

You remember the soft shock and awe on your face, how you said thank you and how your face felt so hot when you said it, how he asked you to turn, and how you looked at him from behind you after he put the piece on. He was so close and it felt like he was coming closer. You don’t remember if that part was real, but you can see it so clearly that it must have been. Unfortunately, the only thing you remember for certain is that knock at the door that sent Negan away to handle whatever was going on downstairs.

Had you almost let him kiss you? Would you have liked it? Are you the most deplorable person for even thinking that while Daryl was somewhere else locked up at the time?

“I see they delivered my message.”

You return from your daze, your startle leaving as soon as it comes.

It was just him. There Negan finally was.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to just come in. The door was unlocked.”

“I knew the meeting was gonna go longer than expected; thought you might as well make yourself comfortable.” He gestures to you, “which I see you did, and no—“ you were getting up from his bed, “it’s fine.” Negan sets Lucille near the door. He walks over to you, sitting down on the edge of his bed as well. There is a bit of distance between you two.

“You know, I came back the other day,” he informs, “I was actually going to talk to you last night, but then I heard you tried to leave. Again.” His eyebrows furrow, “We still on that?” He asks. “Thought we had a breakthrough the other night.”

“But after Carl—“

“—Carl,” he interjects, “came here all by his badass self, and for that, I did not lay even my pinky fuckin’ finger on him.” His hand goes to his chest, “I even took him home like a gentleman. And after I got here and found out they put you in a cell without supper, I had you back in your bed before midnight yesterday, so I’d say I’m doing pretty well.”

“Seriously?” Your incredulity is hidden under the softness of your voice as you say it, but it’s cracking.

“As a heart attack. It’s your ex-people who don’t listen. At least I was nice this time.”

You sigh heavily, docility officially fading. You shake your head with a slight chuckle, “That’s hard to believe. Especially if you were gone for most of the day. I know what that means. You had whatever the fuck your version of fun is.”

He grits his teeth, holding his words back. You’ve gotten a little too comfortable with the back talk, and you especially shouldn’t be saying anything after the night you had yesterday, but he allows it.

This time.

Of course, he didn’t like you leaving, but he rather that it was Daryl who escaped than you. And based on the bruises: one on the side of your head, one high on your shoulder— he imagines you might have gotten pushed against a wall— and the light ones that littered in a couple of spots on both your arms— he could tell his men must have been rough with you as they brought you back. He didn’t like that; therefore, he lets you quip. Someone would be getting their own bruises for it some time later anyway. He would take your smartass mouth out on them to cover for it.

“Maybe,” he finally says. “Nothing was undeserved though.”

You breathe in, the back and forth was no use. “What happened yesterday?” You asked, losing the sarcasm. Your eyes peered into his for honesty, hoping to skip the sly replies and get to the truth. “Just tell me what happened at home.”

Home. You knew better than to use that word. In fact, you have just stopped using that word. He let out an exasperated laugh, but skipped the lecture. “You want the truth? Or just the SparkNotes?”

You roll your eyes lightly. You probably don’t even notice you did it. Despite the situation being discussed, it makes Negan’s head turn endearingly— your tone of voice, the things you say, the way you react to him… you still don’t realize how fresh you’ve gotten with him, how comfortable. But he sees it.

“Alright. Well, Spencer’s gone.” He reveals offhandedly, replying to your silence.

Your eyes do not widen, you know what gone means. You simply nod and try to not think about how the now-cleaned bat most likely looked before.

“And don’t tell me that you care,” he says, pretending to interject to your continuing silence. “You gotta know he was a small dick nepo-prick, right?”

You bite the inside of your lip, shaking your head slightly. You won’t give in to a cheap joke even if it was pretty accurate, so he beckons you by name, “C’mon, that was funny.”

Still, you give him nothing.

He sighs; taking off his leather; and sits near you on the bed, his hands cupping the ledge. “Thought we were finally over this quiet thing.”

“A lot has happened this week.”

“Like…” he prodes. He would only talk about it if you brought it up.

Your eyes shut tightly before opening again. You didn’t want to say it, but you had to. “You know what. Daryl.”

He states the fact plainly, “Daryl left you.”

“Are you kidding me?” Your voice is fierce now. You can’t believe it. You won’t. “He’s not that kind of person and this isn’t an easy place to get out of— I obviously know that— he wouldn’t.”

“Oh, I know,” he jeers, “but he did and he didn’t bring you with him. Even though you were found trying to find his cell. That’s some real idiotic bullshit right there, isn’t it? From both of you.”

You glared at him hotly, you wouldn’t give it up, but unfortunately you had no rebuttal. Both of you would just continue on with the same argument, the conversation going nowhere. And not because either side knew they were completely right; in truth, neither of you actually knew what happened the other day. But in this regard, you felt there was no other choice: you believed in Daryl fully.

Because he wouldn’t.

He couldn’t.

Right?

You continue shaking your head, trying to find something to say in retaliation as you feel your sureness withering. Separating you two was the smartest tactic. You now have nothing to hold onto. “He wouldn’t,” you repeat pathetically, “I don’t believe you.” Unfortunately it’s not quite enough, so he continues with a rant you know all too well.

“You don’t believe me?” He cups the ends of the bed more tightly, positioning himself closer to you. “When I’m the one who gave you the safest roof? Secure food, clean water, access to all these pretty dresses, which, I know you’ve become accustomed to—” and here it comes— “I saved you!”

Saviors and their “saving,” you sneered at it. What bullshit. “You didn’t save me.”

“But I gave you someone to talk to… Huh?” He taunts, waiting for your response but nothing comes. He uses it to his advantage, “You’re quiet cause you know it’s true.”

But you know something too. He says it before you can.

“Or fuck, maybe I just gave myself someone to talk to.”

You pretend you can’t hear the earnesty in it. “Stop,” you scoff. “Don’t treat me like I’m special. I was the second choice.”

“I think with my dick sometimes. You’re the only choice.”

You start to shake your head, your face is flushed; scared, hot, and a little bit of something else that you refuse to let out. Then the tears come— the room feels so big and you two are so close and there are so many feelings you’re trying to push down. “It doesn’t matter,” you say wearily, “You took me. And you took him. You hurt him, I saw his face.” Your voice begins to tremble, almost in unison with the tears that peak out on your eyelids. “And that outfit you put him in. He didn’t even look me in the eye.”

“Stop,” he warns.

“You didn’t even let me see him.”

“He doesn’t notice you.”

“You don’t know us.”

“I know you.”

“You don’t know him.”

“I know you’re not happy… What about the other night?”

You ignore him, shaking your head: “You hurt my friends.”

“What about the other night?” He persists, his voice slowly growing louder. “What about every time I let you sit in on my meetings? What about how you have your own room? What about how I actually talk to you?”

“You let him get hurt—” the tears start to fall, there is a quiver in your voice but you still match his near shout, “And you almost killed Carl—”

“Shut up.”

“And you killed Abraham—”

He warns you by name.

“And Glenn! Maggie’s husband—”

“SHUT. UP.”

“The baby won’t have a father, Negan!”

His voice is low and grim as he demands you to “Stop. Now.” Negan grabs the sides of your neck as he says his next line, it comes out brisk and harsh and heavy like his touch as his hand wraps around your neck. “I knew you lied to me.”

Your voice is hushed, feeling his lightly pressed thumbs on the front of your throat as you speak shakily, “I’ve never lied to you.”

“Maybe not since you’ve been here, but did you hear yourself right now?” He pauses, allowing you a second to let it sink in. “You just fucking proved it.”

Your eyes widen at the realization. The baby, you had said. Fuck.

“See? Told you, you were smart.”

And he did. Brave Maggie. Clever you. That was his reason number one.

“You have to get why.”

His voice remains eerily calm. “I do.”

Another tear falls and his thumb presses its pad under your eye, spreading a tear on your face as the next one comes down.

“Negan…” you say. It’s a mix of a warning and a plea but you can’t tell for what, both fear and fire mix together because of his proximity. His touch and stare was dangerous, you wouldn’t be surprised if he was pleased he caught your slip up, thrilled to see you cry, but there was also something about it— his touch, his eyes— that was equally intoxicating. There was something more tender there as well, something you didn’t want to turn away from, he wasn’t as rough as you thought. Nonetheless, your answer to these conflicting feelings are ones of neglect, you stay your course. “You’re a bad person,” you tell him.

“Please,” he whispers back, “just stop.”

His eyes glaze over your features with an intent look you’ve only seen once before, it was that other night in fact. It’s almost gentle, but maybe it’s just pity, so you don’t let it stop you. “But you are.”

“Stop,” he pleads, then it’s hushed, “just stop…” he says, “just stop.” Then he starts coming closer. “Tell me to stop.”

And you know you should get up.

You should, you should, you should, you know it but— you don’t.

You breathe into it.

His lips latch onto yours; your heads tilt; you lock perfectly.

Everything after happens fast, the instantaneous mess of it all: he waited and waited, and of course he would. He was waiting for you to see it, to feel it. He thought the other night was the breakthrough, but no, it was tonight, it was how you didn’t back away just now.

His hand goes lower on your leg, nearing your knees so he can get under your dress, trailing up your thigh, reaching the inner side that’s pressed up to the other one.

His hand on your neck brings you in closer, traveling up to under your chin and jaw, holding you so tight, but so sweetly. All you felt was surprise. He slips his tongue in, it's deep and intense. He brings a velvet warmth that you’d never expect from him. It was paradoxical; a fiery heaven of a feeling.

He starts rubbing your clit over your panties, kissing his way up to your ear as he does so to ask, “When’s the last time someone’s fucked you?”

Your lips are parted, but you cannot speak, so he continues.

“Daryl never did, did he?” He asks in a muffle, continuing to kiss and kiss. “Who was before him?”

Again, no verbal response, but your breath does hitch at his touches. He continues to draw circles, your wetness now slowly dampening the material, making it easier for his finger to place itself between your folds, so he dips his hand under the band. That and his whispering makes you feel a kind of spark that shoots all the way down to where his fingers are touching. The first press of his thumb without any material in between forces a sudden heat to rise that instantly causes a flush of liquid to slip down your hole, it feels messier than it actually is until his fingers go lower spreading it everywhere. You were much wetter than you thought, and you can’t help how good it feels, how easily you’re responding to it.

Negan calls your name, holding in every cocky reply he wanted to give about how wet you are— he needed an answer to his question first. So he looks you in the face, making sure he has your full attention, “You’re fuckin’ with me, right?” His words are meant more genuinely than his tone implies. “Not at all during any of this?”

You shake your head small and slowly. No.

He laughs pitifully, he doesn’t mean it rudely, but he just can’t help it. A touch-starved baby at the mercy of his fingertips? “Well, god-damn.”

He felt like a rich man.

He begins to kiss your lips again, now pumping his fingers into you. Your walls tighten. It’s only two, but they’re his. It’s new and exciting. His kiss makes you lean into the bed, the force of his head and tongue going deeper into your mouth guiding you to lay flat as his fingers still play.

“I hope you know how fucking soaked you are,” he finally says. “You need it so bad that it feels this damn good with me only touching you like this?” You can’t help the way your body jerks up and he can’t help but be smug about it. “Can’t say I’m surprised.”

Your eyes grow vicious at his grin, you almost want to hit him, but you can’t. All you can do is suppress your moan into a quiet whine. He’s so magnetic— his touch feels forbidden but so right; his voice so alluring; and his midas touch pulls you deeper and deeper into a trance, you might as well be turning into gold. Other than the involuntary reactions your body makes as his fingers continue going into your hole, now slowly going in and out as his eye gloss over your body in your favorite dress that you wore the most, you’re left paralyzed; subjected to following his lead. Wherever he wanted to go next, you’d let him.

He takes his fingers from inside of you and you look up quickly. You made sure not to whine at the loss of contact but your eyes couldn’t hide your dismay. All he did was smile and quickly lick away the wetness.

“Just takin’ this off,” he tells you as his hands cross over to the ends of his white t-shirt, slipping it off and onto the ground, one of those small rope chains hitting his chin as he does so.

It was only his shirt but you’re struck by him: to see more of his ever present sun-kissed skin felt almost godly. He was pretty lean, not too lanky like his stature, but not too broad either. Light curves of muscles adorned his chest and shoulders and arms. His chest and abdomen were slightly hairy, a tattoo placed on the upper right side and you finally saw the other tattoos placed on his upper arms more clearly. They looked nice on him. He was so handsome. You felt more wetness peeking out from down below. He looked so big above you.

“Like what you see, beautiful?” That typical snark still laced his voice, but there was a genuinity to it as well. He wanted you to like what you saw; to like him.

His words make your face hot, eyes casting off to the side. It was easier to talk to him when you were mad at him, when it was about home, even just small talk about the Sanctuary; this felt… different. Just like the other night.

You had almost already forgotten that his charm worked this way too; in a kinder way— when his eyes are wide, when his smile is soft, when he calls you sweet names without the irreverent, quip-filled pretenses.

It made you have all the words on the tip your tongue: how handsome and sexy you could say he is, how much you liked his tattoos, even all the greys that littered his hair and beard l, or how, if you had to admit it, you liked that dumb shit-eating grin of his, but all you can do is lightly smile, a quiet laugh escaping your lips at your bashfulness. You finally nod. “Yes,” you say, rolling your eyes, “maybe.”

He starts undoing his belt with a laugh of his own, “Oh I know you’re a fuckin liar if you think I’m a maybe.”

As his pants drop to the floor he takes each hand and places them over your shoulders on the bed to ask, “May I take off the lady’s dress?”

Your eyes widened, your open mouth only letting out a sweet, surprised, and whispered, “Huh?”

“What? Didn’t expect me to be a gentleman?”

You try to compose yourself, calm the fire you feel all throughout your body, and pretend you haven’t already given in completely right when he kissed you. “I just didn’t expect it would be all this slow.”

He laughs inwardly, glad to see the personality he came to know come back after all that happened these past two days. “Just give me a moment,” he jokes back. “You think I’m gonna waste seeing the reaction of you watching my cock spring out just so I can shove it in fast? ” He comes closer, his voice lowers now, “Believe it or not, I don’t think you’re just some doll or a fuck-piece.” The groundedness of his voice is something you’ve never heard before. “I’m pretty sure I’ve already stated that I see you. And truly, I think you’re damn gorgeous.”

Your eyes are stars. How can you even react? He thinks you’re gorgeous and you’re taken aback. “Thank you,” is all you can quietly say.

“You’re welcome.” He responds with eyes that have never looked so honest, so soft. You get lost in them and he has to pull you back, returning to his question, “May I?”

You nod, quick and excitedly, “You can take it off, Negan.”

He grabs your hands and stands you up. You look up at his face and his fingers move to the ends of your dress, pulling it over your head.

The tips of his fingers trace your chest and stomach lightly, delicately touching your skin as if it’s porcelain. He grabs your waist and travels up to take off your bra, then pushes down your wet underwear.

Negan’s cock stirs at the sight, you’re so pretty and so ready for him. “And I didn’t even need to see it to know I was right.” Just like he said, you’re gorgeous.

Negan pushes down his boxers. Cock springing up. Big and veiny with a red tip. He was itching to get inside of you.

And there you were, eyes and mouth open wide, scared and excited all at once. You were intimidated but surprisingly not scared if it would fit or not. You would let him do anything to get himself inside of you, even if it hurt.

“There it is,” he says, pleased with your reaction. He comes closer to your ear now, pushing you down by the hips against the bed once more. “And trust me, if you like that, you won’t fucking believe how I’ll feel inside of you. Just wait.”

“I…” He wanted to make you feel good, you’re almost speechless. “I’m ready.”

“Good.” He says, and then he places himself above you, admiring your glistening folds as he spreads your legs. He already lines himself up, he could look at you forever but he is in no desire to wait any longer. He pushes in. It’s a bit fast, a tight fit, it must have hurt you, but he’s too excited, he can’t help it. He lets out a hum and then a groan at the feeling of your walls enclosing him, and he hears you gasp at his size. He starts to pump into you immediately.

His face hovers over yours. His eyes study your features and he realizes he’s never been this close. Of course he hasn’t, he’s never fucked you, made love to you. He’s just now noticing the way your eyelashes curl, what birthmarks adorn your upper body or not, and how many earrings you may have, but most importantly, he’s noticing the way you react to him: the way your eyebrows might scrunch, or what elicits more pants and squirmings, the way your lips tug tightly against each other or open into ovals and circles depending on what he does, how he thrusts, where he touches, how he moves.

It all makes him slowly speed up. He can’t take it anymore. He kisses your neck and jaw— some kisses sweet, then others that are rough and he begins to pump and pump. Faster and faster.

“Oh,” you choke out before moaning, “ah.”

He continues, loving every facial expression you make until he finally speaks. “Alright. I gave you a break— now tell me how it feels?”

All you can do is whine incoherently.

“Excuse me?” He says more sternly. You know what he wants.

“Negan,” you whine again.

He stops. “Yes?” He asks all too knowingly. “Gonna use your words and tell me how it feels?”

You sigh, taking the hand placed on your hip and moving up toward the ends of your stomach, all the way up to your left breast. You let his hand rest there, feeling the heat and your quickened heartbeat radiating from the area. “You… you feel so good.” Your eyes are watery, “Amazing.”

You got him there, and he almost can’t help but start hammering it in, but then he remembers… he doesn’t have to help it. He could do whatever he wanted, so he does. He squeezes your breast, grinning wildly as he gives you one hard thrust. “Damn right,” he tells you, hearing your yelp before pounding fast.

You had always been quiet but he never quite saw you at a loss for words as you are now. Your mouth is completely open, your eyes threatening to roll back further, making sounds he’s sure you’ve never heard from yourself before. Have you even had it this fast? This big? This great? He knows it couldn’t be. And he’s the one who gets to show you. His eyes gloss over you with pride at the thought.

He grabs your chin to get you to look at him, “Who’s fucking you this good?”

You moan. You weren’t used to this. Your eyes roll back completely as he pounds into you with eye contact.

It makes him groan loudly, his jerks into you, letting out his own moan from the sight. “Oh fuck, baby. Don’t play with me.”

You give in, force yourself to speak, you can’t let this end. “You, Negan!”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yes!” It’s so hard to speak, it comes out so pathetically.

“Who's making you feel like no one else?”

“You, Negan, it’s you!” Your moan turns into a pant, “It’s you, only you.”

He comes closer, his nose touches yours. His movements slow, but they don’t stop. He’s rocking into you now. “Only me?”

You don’t even think, “Who else? It's only you.”

His teeth sparkle, “Only me.”

“Only you, daddy.”

He laughs cockily, “So Daddy’s making you feel this good?”

“Yes, daddy. So good.”

You feel the groan he makes travel right to your clit, making it throb.

He kisses you, the corners of your lips to your cheek and neck and collarbones and back up again.

He restarts his pumping into you but his head remains close to yours. You decide to wrap one of your arms around his neck, pulling his hair, and the other hand travels down his back, holding him close.

Negan breathes you in, his head near the crux of your neck, hearing every little sweet sound you make that he’s never heard before. It all drives him wild, but then his eyes open. A question comes out that surprises you both: “Am I ruining your life right now?” He quietly asks.

“That doesn’t matter,” you say, breathing heavily from his touches, your eyes are still closed.

“I think it does.”

“You make me feel like no one ever has…” The bliss you feel from his current soft strokes and touches making it hard to speak, your voice is so light. “At least I got to experience it.” You open your eyes now, fingers tracing the cross drawn into his arm, “At least I got to see the real you.”

Your eyes say more than your words do. There’s a yearning and a sadness, an answer to what feels right in this moment, but an insight that there are doubts that could creep up later the more that you think about it.

“Just keep going,” you tell him, “I want to see you.”

You want to see him, you do see him. His head connects with yours again, and you moan into each other's mouths as he keeps pumping. Your legs come up to his hips and you’re not afraid to be loud anymore, to tell him how good it feels, how much you like him.

He takes your hands and places them over your head, crossing his fingers with your. It’s so pure, so lovely even when he’s going so hard down below. You hear your breaths heavy and your bodies slapping and the bed shaking.

You think about his skin, and his scratchy beard against yours, and the way you hate how he can make you smile by making the most ridiculous and raunchy jokes, and the way you love his voice, the way you can’t help but to like the way he cares for you.

“Negan,” you say weakly.

“Yes,” he responds intently.

“I’m gonna come,” you tell him. “I think I can.”

“Come for me,” he encourages, moving one of his hands down to rub your clit. “C’mon.”

“I’m gonna come,” you repeat, edging yourself on. Bucking up at his thrusts and his fingers.

“You can do it. Be a good girl. Do it for me.”

You swear the fireplace blazes louder and bigger, lighting up the whole room as you yell out, moaning once more as you orgasm.

Negan finally breaths out after, holding in for so long, and comes after you. His hands place themselves flat on the bed and he pushes in fast, riding out the high.

He scoops you up immediately, holding you in his arms. He doesn’t want to let go.

You two stay there for a moment until you look up. His hand caresses your face, “What is it?”

“I…” you were embarrassed to admit that you weren’t ready for it to all be over yet. “Can I ride you?”

A wiley smile appears on his face. He has to admit, he’s a little shocked you’re ready to go again, but he’d never turn it down. “Well, of course you can, babygirl.”

He flips you over, completely ready, but instantly, you become hesitant, almost overwhelmed. He was the world, not you, yet you were now above him. All the allowance to touch him anywhere you want at your disposal.

He puts his hands under his head, arms flexing. An ever wide smile present as he waits for you to begin. “You asked for it. Don’t get shy on me now.”

Your eyes grow excited again, deciding not to hold back, and you start to rock against him. You place you hands on his chest, feeling him up, touching his biceps, hands going over his tattoos— you could stare at them, at him, for hours. You honestly think you’d lick his whole body if he’d let you. And of course he probably would. To feel big and proud and irresistible while you look like a little desperate freak? You wouldn’t even have to ask him twice. Thinking about it and about how full his cock is making you feel, stretching and reaching all the right places, makes you moan and whine. You bucked your hips wildly, humming and giving him “mmms” because of how yummy it feels. You could do this forever.

“Ah- uh- Negan,” you moan and your stomach caves as you whine again and you hurl forward, continuing to rock but your pace is faltering. It’s becoming too hard and Negan can tell so he takes you by the hips, helping you move. First continuing to let your grind and then pushing you up and down his shaft so you can bounce on him. You push yourself up again, hand on his chest, pushing against it and you bounce along with his help. This was fun. You try to go faster and faster. It felt like being a kid on a playground.

“Open your eyes,” he demands. “Look at who you’re fucking, sweetheart.”

So you do, and moan at the sight of him, “Ohmygod,” you say. “You’re so handsome, Negan.”

He's so proud of you. Enjoying your actions, enjoying your noises. He groans as he sees your breast bounce and it makes you squeeze against him.

“Good girl,” he coos, “finally listening when you’re spoken to, about to make yourself come on daddy’s cock again.”

He starts to rub your clit again and you continue to bounce. It almost hurts because of how overstimulated you’ve become but you don’t tell him to stop. Your hands come to reach the headboard, helping you bounce harder. He tells you again how much of a good girl you are, how he loves that you’re not stopping, then he tells you how dirty and desperate you are for wanting him again after he already made you come. But he’s obsessed. This is all he’s ever wanted since the day he brought you here. His hands trail up from your hips to your waist and breast and back down again. There is nothing more he wants than to fuck you or for you fuck him.

You look down. You both notice your necklace still wrapped around your neck, almost nearing between your breasts, bouncing along with all of you. It reminds you of why you're here, why he gave it to you. It makes you have the realization he had… Was he ruining your life? Were you ruining your own? But how could you be when it all feels this good? It was completely screwed up, but everything felt so magnificently brilliant. His touch is everything, his voice is everything, his body is everything. It makes your hips stutter, it makes you moan, and at last, it makes you come again. You ride your high, going and going and going until you fall into his chest. His hands come to hold you tight thereafter.

Unthinkable bliss is all that is felt for a long moment… then… your head turns to the window. You remember what is out there and what isn’t in here.

A tear falls down your cheek and he realizes what’s happening when it falls onto his shoulder.

It hurts him now. To see you cry. It’s not fun anymore. You feel it, yes. You see what he saw, it’s true. But you aren’t really his wife. You’re nothing that is his at all. You both know that as well.

It takes you a long time to speak, you have to force yourself, but you do. “You have to let me go now.” You say it sternly but there is a sadness to it; a small part of you wants to not mean it even though you completely do, even though you do wish to stay here, to be enveloped by his embrace— you simply cannot forget.

“Mm,” he shakes his head, remaining leveled, “you know too much.”

“I barely know anything,” you say. “And not that anything I do know matters. Knowing the way around the Sanctuary isn’t going to help anyone when I know there is no way we could actually get in…. And what’s more important anyway is that I’m not changing my mind and you’re not either.”

“I’m not.”

“And I can’t. I wouldn’t. And they’re not going to. Never…. And if some of them die…” A whimper almost leaves you but you manage to swallow it, “I have to be by their side, Negan. I can’t only hear about it. I… I can’t see it next to you.”

His lips are pressed firm, his jaw is fixed and tight, almost like he’s grinding down on his teeth. The breath he takes through his nose could be a heavy sigh if he opened his mouth, but he doesn’t. He keeps it all in.

You words and their weight hang in the air for a moment before he finally speaks: “One of my guys that watches the armory doors has a shift that ends at 6:00 am… but at 5:50 I’m going to come up to him and tell him he gets off 10 minutes early that day, that I’ll wait for the next person to come.” He lets his words hang in the air for a moment, your confusion spirals before he keeps going. “It’ll be fucking weird, but he’ll look dumb as shit if he questions me, so he won’t. Then when he’s out of sight, I’ll leave. The next person is coming right at 6. That’s all you get. 10 minutes. A little less really.”

Your eyes round slowly as the stun continues to sink in. He’s… letting you leave.

“You take one gun and one knife. Just one. Don’t make it noticeable. I’m going to check. Then you go out of the back door that’s inside.” He didn’t have to tell you the way. “It should be easy, I know you’ve tried it before.”

You look down, taking in all he says, but then he turns you face to meet his, “If anyone sees you, I’m gonna have to make a show of it when they bring you back. Not what I want. But if I get there before you get out, maybe 5:58, just cause I’m an asshole, just to see you one last time… And if I do, I’m gonna turn you around and you’re stayin’. Fair?”

You nod. It’s small and light. You don’t question any of it, you can’t. “8 minutes.” You respond.

“8 minutes.” His voice is neutral, but underneath there was a tinge of solemnity to it. “8 minutes,” he says under his breath.

“What about now?”

“Now?” He asks. He didn’t think about it. He assumed you would want to go after this, after you got what you wanted. “Well,” he turns to his nightstand, “right now it’s half past 10.” He stares at you for a moment, you can’t tell what he’s thinking. This whole moment has felt so quiet, both eerie and gentle. You still weren’t used to the latter from him, even after what just happened. “You can go if you want. Sleep in your bed for one more night, or…” he stops, “You can stay with me, if you’d like.” His sigh is short and whispered but you both hear it, you feel its weight. “It’s your choice.”

You stare at each other for a moment. Your eyes trail all of his face and the arm that is still holding your own, adorned with all the tattoos and skin you had just fallen for. You wanted to study them and hold onto him forever. And his eyes: they said so much— there were so many little inflections, ones that you had finally read, and so many others you’ve yet to decipher. You desired to know him, but you had to go, so all you decided to do was to hold him. For now, you chose to stay, and hoped that your embrace would transfer the fact that the only reason it would be hard to leave is because of him and only him. You would remember this forever. “8 hours till 8.”

“8 hours till 8, kid.”

You close your eyes tight and nuzzle into his chest, A peace you had never known in the Sanctuary finally subsumed you. You feel free to finally tell him, “Thank you. I really do miss home.”

Home. There it is again. There was no malice in the way you said it, but there was still a pang from your melancholy words that made his heart throb. You missed home. And as peaceful as you looked, and as safely as you held onto him, your words reaffirmed that home was not here and it was not with him— no matter how you looked, and no matter the fact that you were allowing him to hold you for the night, to call you his. In the end, you were not.

He had to finally accept it.

“8 hours till 8,” are your last words until you finally drift to sleep. This would be your last and most tranquil night here. To you, it felt right, almost harmonious, albeit sad. This is how it was and how it was meant to be. You needed it.

But to him, it’s shattering. He doesn’t repeat the phrase back this time because, for once, he has nothing to say. The fire glow of the night has now withered into darkness.

You won.

He lost.

But both your hearts broke.

[yandere-wishes]

A thought for you, Diluc meeting his darling when they were knights together when they were younger but when his dad dies and he leaves but only comes back to see his darling is now a high ranking offical and he panics, what if she gets hurt? She isn’t cut out for this sort of thing. So now he is torn, he can’t let her get hurt but it’s not like he can just pull her out of the knights, can he?

He plays hero in the dark.

Maybe cause the dark obscures beauty and beauty is the last thing he needs right now.

Maybe he's a bit too scared to see too clearly.

Besides everything looks better in the dark.

Diluc doesn't thrive in order, he prefers solitude. The quiet of the estate away from town. The calm of the tavern during closing hours.

The solitude is safe.

Away from fickle lovers and family secrets.

He sees you in the dead of day. Standing outside the tavern with your brigade. Dressed in that loathsome armor with the sun's rays bouncing off the silver metal.

Gleaming.

Bright.

A beacon of hope in every way.

Diluc swallows his anger, his astound. There really shouldn't be room for surprise, it was to be expected. You had trained with him, fought alongside him. Captain is the lowest rank you should have by now

Still, you are not ready for such duty, such burdens.

You must taste experience, bite it, and let the crumbs mar the corners of your lips. You can not simply know by hearing tales of others' endeavors. They are as pointlessly purposeful as the stars. Distant lights you can never understand.

And Diluc refuses to see you as anything more than the little girl who'd drag him to the lake to hunt turtles.

Jejune in every way.

Diluc is not careless, he is not reckless.

The young boy who used to rush headfirst into everything be it battles or turtle hunts, died the same night his father did. The man born of his ashes, is scrupulous, vigilant. He calculates every mistake before attacking.

He lets you see him in the dark. Masked vigilante stalking the streets while you do your patrols. He leads you through the streets, weaving through the nooks and crannies of the cramped port city.

He wonders if this is how the turtles by the lake felt all so many years ago.

"Halt" You're voice holds authority now, no longer airy and melodic. It makes him discomfited.

He leaps past the high walls of the city, disappearing amongst the threes. He sees you cease at the threshold of the bridge. Defeat painted across your tender lips.

The game has ended.

At least for tonight.

He plays hero in the dark.

Dancing as he blocks your attacks.

Metal sings metal as sword and claymore clash.

The nostalgia seeps through no matter how hard he struggles, the familiar hyms of weapons clashing. Your taut frown of concentration. He's drowning in his crush again.

But is such a fickle thing really capable of throttling a man such as he?

Maybe this is truly love?

It's a sparse moment. He's too caught up in you, how tall you've gotten, how astute your stance has become. You've grown. But he still hears your sweet voice ringing across the north winds.

He doesn't notice the hilt of your sword until it's pounded against his skull. Since when have you learned such dirty tricks? His head buzzes on impact, the mask clashing violently on the ground.

The night is still.

But the beating of his heart is far too loud.

"Dily?

You're sword falls, face torn between shock and laughter. "You're the Darknight hero?"

He doesn't answer right away. He lets you laugh and ponder. Lets you come up with your own answers. He's about to interject. Throw some comment about being on opposite sides. But you beat him to the punchline. "Well, I guess I still got to take you in..."

"That's unfortunate, I can't say I'm particularly fond of being arrested by a Favonius knight."

"Captain" You correct and the pride flashing across your face makes him burn in anger. No, no you're not.

You approach him, carless and intrepid. Plucky steps as you reach for the cuffs on your belt. Diluc can't help but roll his eyes. Really? Has being made a captain taught you nothing?

Shouldn't you be more jaded? Wry of any potential threats.

Well, he guesses it must be hard to think of the boy who talks to his pet turtle as a threat.

The blaze from his vision washes over you, painting the night into a faux dawn. The fire melts through your body, peeling the flesh of your arm.

The Darknight hero stands tall amidst the inferno. Eyes aflame with the delicate sight of you.

Diluc licks the embers from his fingers as you cradle your burnt hand.

He didn't mean to do this, but he needs to stun you, he needs you to submit. Gingerly he picks you up, cradling your body close. He can't wait to get you home and burn away that dreaded armor. To dress you in soft silks and precious jewels.

"You're really not cut out for this knight thing. But it's fine I'll keep you safe"

He's only met with soft whimpers as he scales the back walls and dashes towards the winery.

Diluc plays hero in the dark.

And he still believes that.

Even as he opens the door to his mansion.

With you sobbing from pain in his arms.

He is a hero.

And heroes are meant to keep people safe.

Especially helpless little girls who try to play knight.

[bucks-babe]

maybe angel!reader helping bucky thru a panic attack? like he thinks when he dies hes gonna suffer in hell for the stuff the winter soldier did and we calm him down and help him? u can add smut if u want but u dont have to !!

My Guardian, My Angel, My Love

Pairing: Bucky x angel!reader

Summary: For the first time Bucky gets to experience peace because of his sweet angel.

Word Count: 5.5k

Warnings: Angst?, actually a lot of angst, I don’t know how it got that way but it did, it gets happy though, fluff, smut (I can’t help myself), oral f!receiving, handjob, awkward sex talk, like really awkward, talk about heaven and dying, talk about life after death and immortality, angels based off of Supernatural but I changed a few things, blood, nearly dying, gunshots, reader doesn’t have a soul but can still love because I said so, reader knows when and how everyone dies but can’t tell them, reader has wings, 3rd person, age gap (reader is eons old), wings being a metaphor for sexual assault?, think Maleficent, no use of Y/N, so many emotions

A/N: This is not supposed to force any religion nor be an accurate representation of any religion. I din't go with panic attack, rather I had him almost die. I was feeling angsty

The moment Bucky’s knees hit the ground he knows it's over, that this is the end. He knew this was the way he would go out, on a mission, desperately trying to atone all his misdeeds. Tendrils of pain shot throughout his stomach, blood seeping through his fingers. When his side hit the ground, he knew it wouldn’t be too long before he went, limbs feeling too heavy. He couldn’t hear Steve screaming for help, scrambling for anything to stop the bleeding.

What Bucky did hear though, was a ruffle, almost like a flock of birds flying by, then a figure he’d never seen before stood above him. She’s here to take me. It didn’t strike Bucky as odd that she was the only thing that was clear, the rest of his view blurry and unfocused. He tried to speak, he really did, but no words came out, the breath leaving his lungs not enough to push any words out.

The woman crouches down, hand cupping his cheek with such softness tears leave his eyes, wiped away by Steve in the quinjet who seemingly can’t see her. “Close your eyes, my love. When you wake up, I’ll be there.” Fuck, this is really happening. Fear coursed through his body, scared of what punishment his sins earned him. I deserve to go to hell for what I’ve done. 

A guttural whine passes his lips; Steve chokes back sobs next to his lifelong friend. “Shh, none of that, now. I won’t let anything bad happen to you, I promise. You can rest now.” All at once, the pain is gone. Bucky feels like he’s floating - it’s wonderful.

Bucky has no problem opening his eyes. What the fuck? This is hell? Well damn. The most wonderful sound meets his ears - a giggle, soft and delicate. “No, my love, this is not hell and you’re not dead.” She comes into view. She’s gorgeous. Wait, I’m alive! Apparently, Bucky says that last part because Steve’s gasp enters his ears.

“Yeah, Buck, you’re alive. Gave us a scare though, didn’t uh, didn’t know if you would make it.” Bucky doesn’t respond right away, too busy looking around for his mystery woman, only to be met with the walls of the med bay. “Hey, I’m right here, Buck, look at me.” It’s not the woman, rather it’s Steve.

“How long was I out? What happened?”

“A few days. It was touch and go for some time but you bounced back. When we were on the mission, Hydra had a sniper posted outside. He got you right in the stomach.” Bucky could hear the emotion in Steve’s voice, the fear of losing his best friend still leaving him shaken up.

“Well, they’re a pretty shitty shot if you ask me. Could have gotten one right between the eyes with one of those shit guns we got in the war.” Steve coughs out a laugh, turning into a belly laugh a few seconds later. Bucky would laugh with him, but the bullet wound in his abdomen says he shouldn’t. He still doesn’t see the woman, though. Maybe I just made her up. 

A few days later, doctor Cho gives him the all clear to leave the med bay; however, he’s off duty for the foreseeable future and not any amount of his grumbling changed her mind. Still, Bucky hasn’t seen the woman. He feels a little crazy that he misses her, well crazier. 

Slowly, he makes his way to his room. Steve offered to help but Bucky wanted to do this on his own, having been tended to his whole stay in hospital. He puts in his password on the keypad Tony installed when Bucky first arrived, when the fear that Hydra would come back and take him was too much to bear. His room is the same way he left it, except for a woman on his bed. Not just any woman though, it was his mystery lady. 

Someone’s gonna have to put me in the cuckoo's nest. She laughs as if she can hear his thoughts. God, I hope not. “God has bigger things to worry about than such an inconspicuous fear as that, my love.” She sits up, facing him, the most beautiful smile gracing her lips.

“Can you hear my thoughts?” He feels like he already knows the answer, but asks anyway. If this woman is made up, of course she can read his mind. She just smiles and rises to her feet, walking over to him.

“What do you think, my love?” She tilts her head, a soft smile still resides on her lips. He feels so safe with her and she isn’t even real, just a figment of his imagination, a ruse to comfort himself in what he thought were his last moments. “I am very real, I’ll have you know.”

Bucky doesn’t know why, but he believes her. He believes this woman who showed up randomly on a field, who his best friend couldn’t see, and who disappeared without a trace. “How then? How did you do it?”

“Do what, my love?” She grabs his hand and leads him to the bed, helping him sit, finding a spot next to him.

“Save me, hear my thoughts, hide from Steve, disappear, get into my room, all of it. It’s not natural. Either you’re a ghost, or a mutant, or a reaper who was trying to take me. I don’t know, but you’re something.” Another laugh escapes her. He should be terrified of her, but he can’t find it in himself to be, her presence emanating calm.

“Well aren’t you a clever one? However, I’m none of those things nor did I save you. It just wasn’t your time yet. I’m an angel, though, to answer your question.” Bucky just stares, not believing her. This has to be a joke. “No joke, my love. If you want, I can prove it to you.” Bucky doesn’t even question why she calls him my love, the sound of it just too nice to stop.

Bucky just nods, words failing him. She rises to her feet, turning to stand in front of him. He hears them before he sees them, the same ruffle he heard as he lay dying. Then he sees them. A pair of dark wings coming from her back. She doesn’t spread them all the way, too big to fit in the small space of his room. “They’re black.” She throws her head back, a loud, beautiful laugh fills his ears. 

“That was your first thought? You don’t like them? Personally I think they’re quite nice.” It was the first thing that came to his mind, the rest blank. Maybe he should have asked for more proof, but he knows she would never lie to him. He doesn’t know how he knows, he just does. 

“I don’t know. I guess I just thought they’d be white. With the whole angel thing, you know?” She hums.

“There is a lot humans have wrong about us. I mean, plenty of us have white wings, but they come in many colors. If you can believe it, this isn’t even my true form.” Bucky is confused, she looks so real. A tangible human, someone he can touch.

“What is your true form then? Can I see it?” That’s a little personal to ask, dumbass.

“Well, that is a little complicated. Only one human has seen my true form and it didn’t go well. I thought she could handle it, but when she saw me, well let’s just say she couldn’t see from then on.” Bucky’s eyes widened, not expecting that answer. “Anything else you want to ask me?”

Her wings are still out, folded against her back. They look so soft. “Can I touch your wings?” Her wings shift slightly. If he wasn’t trained to observe everything and everyone, Bucky wouldn’t have known that she was uncomfortable. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked. I didn’t know-”

“That’s okay. An angel’s wings are very personal. They’re sensitive and even for an ethereal being, it's very personal - intimate.”Clearing her throat, she changes the subject. “I know your name, my love. Might I say, it’s very pretty, but you don’t know mine.” Bucky picks up on her attempt to move his attention away from her wings.

“What is it then? I can’t call you angel forever, however fitting it may be.”

“Well I don’t exactly have a name. I’m a cherubim. The only angels who have names are the archangels, the first borns.”

It was Bucky’s turn to smile.”My little cherub.” She doesn’t tell him that cherub is the plural of cherubim. Until this day, Bucky didn’t know that angels could get shy, yet here his sweet cherub is, shying away from his piercing eyes. He bets if he felt her face he would feel the heat on them. “I have to ask though, my little cherub, why did you come to me?”

She became serious, staring right into his eyes. “Because God commanded it.”

“What does God want to do with me? Out of all the people in this world, he chose me?” A pained look crossed her face and she walked over to him, kneeling in front of him like he was her God. Her hands ran up his arms, goosebumps rising at the pass of her hands. He almost stopped breathing - he could feel her hand on his left arm. He hasn’t felt anything with that hand since he fell of that train.

Hands still rising, she cups his face with both hands, making him look into her eyes. “You don’t think you deserve to be saved.” It wasn’t a question. She knew. “That is why he sent me. He sent me because you deserve it. You deserve to let go.” At that moment, Bucky broke down. Sobbing uncontrollably, somehow without pain in his fresh wound.

She pulls him into her, wrapping her arms around him. His face buried in her neck, arms clutching her back. She hesitates for a second, no one having touched her wings in thousands of years, yet she cocoons him with them, shielding him from the world. It only makes Bucky cry harder, her wings holding every bit of softness he thought they would. The comfort she brings unlike any other he experienced before.

Her arms rub his back as she coos to him. Soft words spoken into his hair. “Shh, my love, I’m here. Nothing bad will ever happen to you again. I will die before I let that happen.” The conviction in her tone sets him off more, unable to comprehend someone would do that for him without a second thought. A being, older than he can even fathom, is ready to give it all away for a mesley human. A speck of dust in her life. His entire existence no longer than a second when compared to hers.

That’s how it was for a while, Bucky’s sweet cherub staying with him. At night she would wrap her wings around him, keeping him safe. Bucky knows that her powers are the reason his nightmares are gone. At first he was glad that he could finally sleep, but then the guilt crept in. Why should he be allowed to forget the horrors he committed? Their families didn’t get that condolence. 

When he told her this she wasn’t having any of it, wings jerking in annoyance. It was something that he picked up on, how when she experienced emotions her wings would move in different ways, always giving her away. 

“I swear, my love, you’re going to make my wings turn gray with all this. I have lived a long life, longer than you can comprehend, so when I tell you that I have seen the best and the worst of this world, I mean it. And you, my love, are a good man. There is a reason God sent me to you.” Her wings surrounded him and he felt himself relax. “There is no quest to send you on, no mission that the world hangs in the balance of. It’s just you. A man who needs to see the good in himself.” Bucky hangs his head in shame, not meeting her eyes.

“You think your purpose is suffering for the things you couldn’t control? My purpose is to save you. My love,” she cups his face in her hands, wiping away the tears he didn’t know had formed, “I have done far worse things in my life. Horrific things, yet I’m here right now, with you. Please, let me take your pain away.”

None of this was easy for Bucky. No one has ever had their sole purpose be him. Back in the forties he took care of Steve, he stepped up when his father left. When he was no longer the Winter Soldier, Steve helped him, but Steve’s care never felt like this. Bucky knows that he’s fallen in love with her. He knows that she knows, but what he doesn’t know is if she feels the same.

What he doesn’t know is that she is fighting the same battle, the feeling of love is one she has never had before. It all came to a head one night, Bucky wrapped in her wings, her head on his chest. “Cherub?” She felt the vibrations in his chest.

“Yes, my love.”

“You said that we could be together for the rest of my life, right?” She did say that when he was worried that she would leave him after her mission was complete.

“I did.” One thing about her is that she never gave long answers to questions, not used to having to talk with humans.

“What happens when I die? Where will I go? I want you to be there with me.”

She sighed, thinking about how to convey her words properly. “When you die… you’ll go to heaven. It has already been decided. If you choose, when you go, I will be there with you for the rest of our existence, but you don’t have to make a decision now. My body will age with yours, follow you to the end of your life. When your time comes, we will leave and go to heaven where we will both be young again.”

Without hesitation Bucky answers, “I want that. I want you to be with me for the rest of eternity.” There was no doubt in his mind. Even though he met her a few months ago, he knew. “I have to ask, what is heaven like?”

She sits up a bit, shifting to lay on his chest, wings still cocooning them, keeping them in their own little bubble. “There is no one heaven. Not everyone who ever went there is in the same place. Heaven is made up of small pockets of personal heavens. People who lost their loved ones meet again, your happiest memories are relived, there is no pain or sorrow, you can have anything you want.”

Bucky felt the pull of his chest, emotion bubbling up. “Is my ma there? And Becca?” The words come out thick, a lump forms in Bucky’s throat. “Please, don’t lie to me.”

She looks into his eyes. “Yes, they are. They’re together and they’re waiting for you. I have seen them myself, right before I left to meet you. They talk very highly of you, my love.”

Tears fall from his face, the pain in his chest all the time at the greatest loss of his life eased slightly. “Can I talk to them?” He knows it's a long shot, but if there is a chance he wants it.

“I’m so sorry, my love, but I can’t. Even I don’t have the power to do that. If I could, I would.” A pained whine leaves his lips. “Hey, you know who is waiting for you too?” She waits a beat before speaking anyway. “Your dog from when you were a kid. He’s in his prime, always will be. His days are spent chasing rabbits around the yard.”

“Balto’s up there too?” A small smile graced his face, crows feet appearing by his eyes.

“Yeah. If it is any consolation, time passes differently up there. The longing you feel right now for them, they feel the same only it’s made easier by us.” Bucky only nods, staring into her eyes, seeing nothing but truth. His eyes flicker to her lips and back up. “You can, my love, I want you to.”

That was all Bucky needed to hear. Gently cupping her cheek, he guided her lips to his. There was no rush, no sense of urgency. They had all the time in the world and then some. Bucky never felt anything this good in his life and he was only kissing her. When she licked his lips, he opened mouth without a thought, brain clouded with love just for her. 

He moaned into the kiss, the feeling of her tongue on his incredible. At his sound, Bucky felt her wings flutter under him. Breaking the kiss, he giggled. Bucky actually giggled. She reared her head back, slightly affronted by his laugh when she just kissed him.

“I’m sorry, my little cherub, it’s just that your wings tickled me.” She huffs and a second later, her wings are gone the only sign they were ever out is the small black feather on the bed. “No, cherub, don’t put them away. I love them.” She wasn’t really offended, but she wanted to tease him a bit.

Her wings were always out around Bucky, comfortable enough to reveal the most intimate and personal part of herself to him. He was the first human in thousands of years to touch them, but he was the only one to be wrapped in them. The only time they were touched was when a man cut them off her back. It was a time when she trusted humans, not knowing the atrocities they were capable of. 

Her wings were white then, when she was pure and unknowing of the hate humans possessed. God crafted her a new pair. Of course she accepted them, but her feathers turned black, scared she looked to her father. When he said that it was because of the wrongs his creations did, it broke something in her, took away her purity, teaching her a lesson. Father never blamed her for it, he knew she would heal with time. It was part of the reason he sent her to the man she lays in bed with.

Bucky didn’t know this, he didn’t know how much she was betrayed by humans, only for her to trust him and him alone. She playfully glares at him before bringing her wings back out, sitting up on his lap. Gently, more gentle than he has been in years, Bucky reaches out to touch them. She lets him feel them whenever he wants, even wrapping him in them as he sleeps, but this was a completely different setting.

She was so vulnerable at this moment. Her wings flapped, a nervous tick of her’s, making Bucky pull away immediately. “Cherub, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.” She swallows before meeting his eyes.

“It’s not that I don’t want you to touch them. It’s just that only one other human has touched them. There was a time where I was naive and innocent, not knowing what humans were capable of.” She pauses and Bucky sits up, back against the headboard and laces his fingers with hers, feeling the softness on his metal hand.

“It was a man, he had a family, a kid and a wife. They struggled to survive, trading their valuables for a slice of bread. Father sent me to help them, take away their sorrows. Said he was an honest man trying to make an honest living.” Bucky senses where her story is going, hoping that it doesn’t end the way he fears, but the pain in her eyes is palpable, a human emotion angels almost never experience.

He waits for her to continue, not forcing her to speak. “At first, they were grateful, having everything they needed. They had their health, food on the table, but the man grew greedy. He wanted more. One day, as I was watching his child in a field, keeping her safe from the horrors of the world, he snuck behind me with a sword he got from a blacksmith, sharper than any blade. He-he cut my wings right off my back.”

Tears fell from her eyes, not having relived that moment for thousands of years. Bucky felt his heart physically ache. She was sent to heal him, but it was his turn to do the same. “You know, my wings used to be white?” She looks into his eyes, red with tears. “When he hurt me, Father took me back to heaven, crafting me another pair. They were white but when he gave them to me, they turned black.”

A whine leaves her lips and Bucky pulls her into him, careful not to touch her wings. “Oh, my sweet little cherub, I’m here and I won’t let anyone hurt you again. I’ve never felt as content as I have with you, never so happy and I will do anything to keep you safe. I love you, no matter what you have done, I’ll still love you.” This only made her cry harder. Human emotions were foreign to her, but spending so much time with Bucky caused her to develop them. It was almost overwhelming, going from not having anything to having so much fill her body.

“Father said that it was because the man took my innocence, showed me the evil of the world. I’ve never seen him apologize for anything, yet that day he was broken, realizing that his creations, even the ones he thought were good, are capable of unspeakable atrocities. They will never turn white again because I’m ruined.” Tears welled up in Bucky’s eyes. His sweet cherub thinking she is anything less than perfect breaks his heart.

“My cherub, you saved me, now let me do the same for you. Let me heal you like you have me.” Leaning back slightly, she took his hands in her own, drawing them up her waist to her back, moving them to touch her wings. At his touch, she gasped, eyes closing forcing more tears to cascade down her face. The feeling of his gentle hands, hands that have done so much harm, resting on the most violated part of her body was something she never thought would happen.

She didn’t know she could love until she met Bucky, finally placing a word to the indescribable warmth that spreads throughout her body every time she thinks of him. “I love you too, my love. Forever and ever, til you die, til the end of time, in heaven and on earth.” They were both crying, neither experiencing the tenderness of love before.

He brings her down, kissing her with as much passion as he possibly could, tasting the mixture of both of their tears. Her arms clutching onto him, trying to get closer. He did the same, one hand running across her wings like he was trying to wash away the taint of betrayal his kind caused. 

Shifting on his lap, she feels the bulge of his cock, half hard pressed up against her. Gasping, she pulls away. “Cherub, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean, it just-.” She silences him with her lips, drawing a groan from him, subconsciously grinding down onto him. “Cherub, we have to stop, I don’t want to take advantage of you. You’re vulnerable right now, I can’t do that to you.”

Her hips stutter on his. “My love, I want to, I need to. Need to be closer to you, please grant me this.” His hands run up and down her sides, soothing the heat of her skin.

“Any time you want to stop, or don’t like something, you tell me. Okay? This is about me showing you how perfect you are.” She nods, kissing him one more time. Bucky’s hands slide up her shirt, resting on her soft skin, palms feeling the goosebump under his touch. Looking up at her for permission to take her shirt off, she nods.

Bucky did that with every piece of clothing, every move he made. Soon they were both naked, her wings splayed out on the bed, twitching in a way he never saw before - arousal. “My, my love, I have to tell you something.” He pulls his eyes away from her wings to look into her eyes. “I’ve never done this before. Angels, we don’t do this, I don’t know what to feel right now.” 

Hands cupping her cheeks, he smiles at her, relaxing into his touch. “Do you feel safe?” She nods. “Do you feel like you have to do this for me?” She shakes her head. “Do you want me to please you?” She nods once again. “We don’t have to do anything with this,” he gestures to his throbbing erection. 

“I want to, I just need you to show me what to do.” The thought that she trusts him enough to take care of her makes his cock pulse, aching for some type of relief.

“Let me make you feel good, okay? All you have to do is lay back and tell me how it feels.” She nods her head in understanding, worries slowly fading away. He kisses down her body, taking the time to swirl his tongue around his sensitive nipples, grinning at the small gasp it draws from his cherubs lips.

Going further down, his face is right in front of her pussy, smelling her intoxicating scent. “Keep your eyes on me, cherub.” She gulps. For a minute, Bucky just stares at her pussy, breathing her in, memorizing how wet she is before his tongue flicks out onto her clit. 

“Oh, that feels good. Can you do it again?” She was so sweet, asking so kindly for him to deliver her pleasure.

“Of course I can.” And with that, Bucky dives into her pussy, restraining himself from devouring her. He groans into her cunt, already addicted to her taste, the moans she lets out are soft and breathy, yet it’s one of the most beautiful things he's ever heard, only competition being her laugh.

“My love, I don’t, what is happening to me?” Bucky pulls away from her cunt, reaching up to lace their hands together. 

“Just let that feeling wash over you. It’s okay, I’ll catch you when you fall, I’m here.” He goes right back to her pussy, lapping her juices up, eyes boring into hers. She was twitching on the bed, hips bucking up to meet his tongue. Bucky chuckles when he sees her wings flap, not knowing what to do with the pleasure coursing through her.

Her orgasm comes as a surprise to her, never experiencing one before, nor knowing what they were. Her eyes shoot open, wings beating wildly, body almost convulsing on the soft sheets. Bucky pulls away, not trying to overstimulate her. He almost cums at the sight of her, it was the most beautiful thing he has ever seen.

It takes her a while, but she comes down, wings falling limp on the bed as Bucky crawls up her body, resting in between her legs. “My love, what was that? I thought I was about to die.” 

Barking out a laugh, Bucky leans down. “That was an orgasm, sweet cherub. How did it feel?” She whines, not able to put what she felt into words.

“Like nothing I have ever felt before. It was incredible.” Her eyes close. Bucky is perfectly happy to hold her, not caring about his own orgasm, but her eyes shoot open, wide and curious. “Can you have one, too?”

Another laugh leaves him. “Yes, cherub, I can. It’s a little different from yours though.” Her eyes squint in confusion, clearly not understanding what could be different. “Well, for one, what I have looks a little different to yours, doesn’t it?” She nods. Bucky never thought he would be giving “The Talk” to an angel, but here he was. “When I have an orgasm, stuff comes out of this tip, right here.” He grabs his cock to show her. 

“Can I see it? How do I make you do that?” It was Bucky’s turn to be surprised. 

“Cherub, you don’t have to do that.” Her glare is enough to make Bucky continue. “Um, there are a few different ways. I could put it inside of you, that feels good for you too.”

“In where?” Bucky huffs, not in annoyance, but this talk is turning him off. Not that he’s mad at that, but the conversation feels like talking to a child, someone who hasn’t experienced anything sexual and it wasn’t exactly turning him on, it felt wrong to have this talk naked.

“In this hole right under where I was touching you. There is another one under that, but it’s different from the other. Or your mouth, but also a hand. Pretty much anything that could rub against that area.” Bucky felt his cheeks heat up. His cock was going soft right in front of her eyes.

“Can I do one? I want to see you orgasm.” Her eyes were so bright and eager, he couldn’t say no to his cherub. He nods, only for her to glance down at his soft cock. “Why is it smaller now? I think it’s kind of cute.”

This has to be the most embarrassing thing that has ever happened to him. No woman has ever called his dick cute, or made a comment on its size when soft. He gets compliments on how big he is when he’s hard, but soft is a different story. He’s a grower not a shower. He has to admit, his encounter is damaging his ego a bit. “It gets bigger when I’m aroused, but if it’s not touched it gets softer.” He’s lying straight through his teeth, he can stay hard for hours without touching his dick.

“If you touch it, it gets big again.” She switches positions, having him on his back, resting between his legs, face right next to his cock. He feels himself twitch and she jerks her head in surprise, giggling at her own reaction. She begins to almost pet him, it feels good but not what he needs.

He reaches down, guiding her hand to gather the precum at his tip, slowly pulling it back down, tightening her grip on his dick. “Oh, wow, it’s getting bigger. It’s so hard.” Her amazement at something so simple as a dick getting hard is endearing. 

Bucky grunts when he twists her hand. “I liked that sound.” Her words make him groan again, cock all the way hard. His hips buck into her hand and he lets her hand go, trusting her to keep her pace. It’s slow but firm, driving him insane. He wants her to go faster, harder, but this is about her, letting her discover at her own pace.

“Spit on the tip, it’ll make it easier to move.” She does so without hesitation. Bucky’s head flies back into the headboard, moaning at her soft hands working his cock. “Just like that, cherub, you’re doing so good. This feels incredible.” Bucky meant every word of it. Her hand honestly felt better than the full blown sex he’s had in the past. Maybe it was because he loved her with all his heart, or maybe it was because she was an angel, either way, Bucky didn’t have it in himself to care.

“You look so pretty like this, my love. I love this, making you feel good.” Bucky’s hips pick up speed, feeling his orgasm building up in the base of his cock. 

“Cherub, I’m going to cum. Please keep going just like that.” She figures he means orgasm since he is jerking just like she was. The urge to make him orgasm was almost too much to bear, wanting him to show her how beautiful he was when he lets go. “Oh, cherub, I’m about to, oh fuck.” He moans long and loud, cum spurting out of his tip. She gasps at the force of it but doesn’t let up her pace. She had never seen anything more beautiful than her love in this moment.

He has to stop her, not knowing that he needed a break. “Love, I want to make you do that again.” She scoops some of his cum off his stomach with her finger and just stares at it.

“You can taste it if you’d like.” She eagerly licks her fingers, eyes bulging at his taste, dropping down to lick the rest of it off his body. “Come here, cherub.” He pulls her into a kiss, tasting himself on her tongue. He pulls the cover over their bodies, her wings instinctively wrapping around him.

“Thank you, my love, for always taking care of me. I was sent to save you, yet I feel that it’s the other way around.” Bucky doesn’t think so. He knows that she saved him. They fall asleep together and in the morning they will find that her wings are just a bit lighter than the night before.

[grimesgirll]

you'd been begging daryl to take you hunting.

"why don't you take her?" rick implored. "she's not a bad shot."

"we'd be bowhunting, not rifle hunting." daryl distinguishes with a grunt.

"i can learn," you assure him, holding your compound bow in your hands. "technically, i've been shooting since i was seven."

"once a summer for fifteen minutes while peddling cookies," he states.

"c'mon, she learned a lot at camp." rick rebuts, grinning at you. "right, doll, didn't you learn how to build a fire and purify water?" you nod. "none of us have frozen to death or gotten diphtheria yet, so i'd say you should at least give her archery skills a chance."

"please?" you borderline beg, breath hitching as you see your morning not going how you planned. "i really wanna learn to track."

daryl doesn't say anything, just looks from you to the bow in your hand. rick interrupts whatever thoughts he has with a sigh. "daryl, why don't ya just take her? she clearly wants to go with you." he gestures to you. "how can you say no to her when she's asking so nicely? unless you think it's too hairy for her out there and we should just spend the day tucked inside here."

you whine at the idea. you want to be outside.

that spurs daryl into saying a rushed, "grab your heavy coat and your arrows."

you grin at rick who despite assisting in your victory, looks disappointed that you'll be gone for the day. while daryl is busy grabbing his crossbow, you slink over to rick, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“thanks,” you seal your gratitude with a kiss.

he wraps a firm arm around you. "you're welcome, sweetheart," your leader punctuates with a hand dug in your hair while he brings your face to his. you almost don't notice daryl until he's huffing by the doorway and you're kissing rick goodbye one last time and scrambling to grab your bow before dashing out the door after your boyfriend.

gone from alexandria, you and daryl take off on foot towards what he’d described as the best hunting grounds in the nearest fifty miles.

"be sure to quiet down," daryl tells you, abstaining from cringing as your boots crunch every leaf on the forest floor beneath them.

"sorry," you giggle. you try to quell your footsteps but it's hard when you're so captivated by the beauty of the woods.

before everything happened with the dead walking, you loved being outside. growing up in scouts and regularly camping had turned you into someone who was all too reckless outside for their knowledge of the woods. yes, you knew that predators and walkers lurked around every corner out here but you just want to crane your neck and stare at the sky through the trees, or let your eyes wander over the meandering streams.

that's why daryl is watching you like a hawk.

years of tracking has made him hip to everything going on around him. truth be told, if anyone or anything were on your trail, you were a dead giveaway. stomping about the way you are, you're bound to scare off any small game but he's trying to be patient with you. it's not like you had to keep it down at your hippie dippie kumbaya girl scout camp or on sunlit afternoon hikes. daryl, on the other hand, moved about undetected like it was second nature. had to be quiet if you wanted to actually to leave the forest with a meal.

he's watching you and the woods just to be safe. it's hard not getting distracted by you the way you're getting all caught up in the trees and the vivid greenery surrounding you.

the sight of you; pink lips parted just slightly with your head tipped all the way back to look for bird nests have his jeans getting cramped. you're just so excited to be outside.

it's not like you don't go on walks every day in alexandria with judith or join them on occasional outings beyond the walls. there's just not as much room for you to leave with how dangerous even just scavenging is turning out to be, so it's harder to get you out for a remote nature walk.

"what're we tracking for?" you ask.

daryl pushes a branch out of the way, holding it back as you pass under before catching up. "whatever you don't scare away with all that noise."

you snort. "so no deer?"

the redneck laughs. "not with the way you're tramping through here."

"what about pheasants?" you question, tiptoeing over a particularly rocky section of daryl's trail. "or do we need dogs to find them?"

"you don't need no damn dog to hunt pheasants."

"a decoy?"

"you just gotta' be patient." he clicks his tongue. "but it's not like you'd know anything about that." you let out a small whine and his breath hitches.

"just askin'."

"i know, girl."

"so what're you shooting for?"

daryl shrugs. "think' we can probably find something further up the ridge. rabbit, squirrel, something 'for you to aim at."

you nod and knock an arrow. following your boyfriend as he takes you past one of his favorite creeks outside of alexandria, leading the way as you pad along on the forest floor behind him.

your shotgun is slung on your back in its strap, understudying the compound bow you’d dug out of the armory. there were many fewer bow users in the apocalypse than there should’ve been. for every bow hunter, there were fifteen idiots blowing off the head of whatever or whoever they encountered with some barely functional, scavenged handgun. maintaining the skill and the arrows for a bow wasn't necessarily for the lazy.

you really didn't have much experience with archery or hunting for that matter. rick joked that you were a duck hunter but that had been dumb luck. while scavenging for gas along a riverside park, you'd seen some geese and fired your shotgun. rick couldn't be upset about the noise when your impulsive assault on the waterfowl was what filled your stomachs that night. and as a reward, rick filled you up just the way you liked it that night.

you'd go out firing on random flocks of geese more if it meant rick would fuck you the way he did that night. you were losing your mind - putty in his hands - from all the praise. his good girl who shot their dinner. marking every thrust with more praise.

the naughty bundle of nerves between your legs awakens at the thought of receiving the same treatment from daryl. he didn't love spanking your ass red or doling out punishments like rick, but you wanted to see his face after you caught something. after you shoot a deer with your bow. he would be so proud of you, giving you a celebratory kiss before helping you field dress your harvest.

whatever route daryl is following takes on an impressive incline, giving way to a fragmented vista of the tiny green valley. you wish you had binoculars. once your eyes stop scanning the sky for hawks, an auburn mess of hair catches your eye. even through his black windbreaker, you can see the outline of his muscles along his back. his form and thoughts of him taking you up against a tree cloud your brain until you hear your name.

"yeah," you answer, looking up at daryl who's stopped to pause below a short, dense pine. he motions for you to squat with him and you do, settling into a perched position with your loaded bow sat on your knees.

“right here is the perfect pass along the ridge to come up and over the mountain,” daryl explains, blue eyes catching a bit of sunlight. “a bunch of game will be scampering around as the day goes on. won’t see any deer right before noon though. not that they’d wanna walk up here with your loud ass.”

you snicker before sending him an apologetic look. “sorry, dare’. i’m not used to being quiet like that.”

i know, baby, he wants to say but just points to your knocked arrow. “wanna have that ready. never know when a squirrel’ll come skippin’ by.”

“yes, sir,” you croon, smirking at the way his eyes darken and he playfully ruffles your hair.

settling into a cozy state of surveillance, your eyes start to droop. rick had kept you up after daryl went to bed. this was before you woke up with the urge to accompany daryl on his hunt, so you probably only got four or five hours of sleep. typical rick keeping you up with sweet temptations like his hands on your breasts, his warm mouth on your torso, licking down to your clit and reigniting that fire that’s consumed your core earlier in the night.

you start to feel it stirring when your mind wanders to the man sitting beside you. you smile sweetly at him when he catches your gaze and ask an innocent question about pheasant hunting again that breaks the silence.

then you’re relaying the story about the time your cousin fell out of his tree stand after one too many beers.

daryl guffaws. “that’s some’ shit merle would do.”

"yeah, it was pretty stupid of him."

the quiet returns. you sigh. the silence meant to lull the local game into a false sense of security is boring you. you came out here for some one on one time with daryl and to learn to track, not to sit in silence in the cold for god knows how long.

you close the distance between you and daryl. tucking yourself into his side, you earn a look from him. "i'm cold," you commiserate.

the archer has to look away from your doe eyes to keep his zipper from popping. he mentally debates pulling you closer until he gives in and tugs you to his chest, ruining your position holding your bow.

both of you know you’re eventually going to do what you do best in the cold; get distracted by warming each other up. it’s evident from how you sink back further against daryl. nonchalant even when you feel his hardness against your ass.

“feeling warmer,” you update him.

“good,” he murmurs when you press your head back to his chest. you feel warmer; despite your layers, daryl has gotten your core going enough for you to feel it from head to toe.

you imagine a wave of pleasure, not just flickering body heat as you turn around and face his groin on your knees.

“not out here,” he mutters with a gasp of your name. his belt falls and your hands start on his zipper, progressing the metal zip all the way down until a sturdy hand grabs yours. “don’t you wanna catch something?” he reminds you of the reason you even trekked up here.

you shake your head yes.

“then what’s this all about?”

you roll your eyes. “dare’, I’m bored!”

“i told you that half’a hunting is waitin’!” daryl chides, pushing your hands down.

tears well in your eyes. the older man exhales; he’s fucked.

“dare’-,”

“don’t you start.” he tells you, grasping your chin in his hand and leaning down to kiss you. you tilt upwards eagerly into the kiss from the pine needle littered ground. “you’re gonna scare anything left up here.”

daryl disconnects from you when your bow is lowered to the ground. his thumb slips into your mouth and without hesitation, you treat his thumb to the same treatment he’d gotten last night.

it’s not long before he’s finally saying, “fuck it!” declaring out loud what you’ve been yearning for the entire morning.

with another smirk, you strip him of his pants until he’s popping out of his boxers. your mouth is on him an instant - it’s cold after all. first thing, you envelope him in your mouth, pulsing downstairs again when his hands find warmth in your hair. you don’t need him to guide your head down to the base of your cock for you to take him into your throat.

the black shotgun you’d proudly toted - even after it’d been confiscated at terminus - is deposited hap-hazardously on the ground while your bow is on the other side of your legs. daryl’s ditched his crossbow at this point, opting to explore the far reaches of your throat with his cock while the bow stands against the other side of the tree.

your boyfriend’s breath hitches again. you overfill as much of his cock as you can into your mouth until you slide yourself up and off, taking a break to catch your breath.

fucked out and face flush in spite of the cold, daryl is pleasantly surprised when you dive down to pay his balls some serious attention. you loll each one into your mouth, leisurely progressing up his length with gentle licks until you’re gingerly kissing the head, locking eyes with him.

disregarding the chill beneath your knees, you dip your mouth down on him again, licking a new trail up his rock hard cock. thinking about how painful it must be in this cold, you give into him when he thrusts into your mouth.

hands in your hair, daryl is in heaven. getting head under the trees? sign him the fuck up. you two have fooled around outside before of course but that wasn't usually by choice. without having to worry about a horde of walkers hot on your trail or horrors like cannibals hunting you, he could lean back and just enjoy the sight of you between his legs, swirling your tongue around the head of his cock.

for a moment, he worries that the sounds you make as you swallow his length will attract walkers but he's too hard to care. you bob up and down, trying to take more of him each time. his hands guide you until he's bucking in your mouth and feel him spill down your throat.

daryl's gonna have to take you hunting more often.

[murphy-kitt]

Ectober Day 7 - Unearth

Word Count: 3,082

Tags: Corpse AU, Description of Corpse, Mention of Blood & Violence

AO3

Coming to the conclusion that Phantom is the reason for Danny’s withdrawn behaviour, Maddie is forced to face the truth. Her son is dead—and it’s all their fault.

Something is very wrong with her son.

Maddie has observed it for months now, the way that something is not quite right. The frigid air that seems to be radiating from him, the pallid skin, his unblinking blue eyes. At first she thought he might’ve been overshadowed, but that ended up being dismissed as his eyes were still blue.

So, she doesn’t know what it could be. And she supposed the only way to find out is to confront him. She and Jack have given him plenty of months to say something, but to no avail.

“Danny?” Maddie’s breath hitches as she stands outside his bedroom door, her hand resting on the wood. There’s a faint rustling noise and the sound of something slamming.

“Yeah, mom?” Danny’s strained voice.

“Can I come in?” She asks, worried that she’s woken him up. He never seems to get much sleep these days, perpetual layers under his eyes.

“Uh…sure.” Danny’s voice trails off, developing into a hoarse cough. Not just tiredness, but he’s always fatigued and ill.

Maddie yanks the door open, preventing herself from the doubt beginning to form in her mind. She will confront him and she will do it now. Jazz’s voice of ‘giving Danny space’ rings in her head as she shuts the door, facing her son.

Danny is splayed out on his bed, his skin so pale she can even feel the cold radiating from him. A fever, but the opposite?

No.

“Good grief, Danny. You’re hypothermic!” Maddie reaches to press her hand to his forehead. The sudden icy contact makes a chill prickle down her spine.

“Mom! I-” He flinches back, holding his hands up defensively and blinking owlishly. This is the closest she’s gotten to him in months. Have his eyes always had the subtle greeness to them?

“What’s happened to you?” her voice trails off. None of this makes sense. Signs of ghostliness, the cold, the pale skin…yet he is still Danny. He consumes food, grows, goes to school. Doesn’t haunt Amity, or fly, or glow or show any signs of an obsession.

“I–” Danny grimaces, his hand resting on his neck, “I can’t tell you. Not now.”

“What do you mean you can’t tell me?! You won’t? Or is someone forcing you to stay silent?”

“A bit of both, I suppose.” He shrugs haplessly, and Maddie swears she sees a flicker of neon green. “I want to tell you. So bad. I don’t want to be lik– living like this anymore. It’s not fair. But I don’t know what else to do. Until yo– they see past their beliefs and realise the truth, then I’m stuck.”

“Danny, you need to tell me. Now.” her eyes narrow and Maddie nearly reaches out to shake him by the shoulders. What sort of trouble is he in? Someone’s threatening him to stay silent. She can see the desperation in his eyes. He’s trapped. Her baby boy desperately wants to say something, but is scared to silence.

“Who is it? Who’s threatening you like this? Did you see something?” Maybe he was witness to a crime. Murder? Drugs?

“No, Mom, it’s not like that.” Danny shakes his head, hopping off his bed and trawling across the room. The teen seems almost…dejected? Disappointed?

“Then what is it?” It’s like talking to a wall.

“Until they realise the truth and see how blind they’ve been, I won’t budge.”

“Realise the truth–what do you mean? Who needs to realise they’ve done wrong?” Maddie pleads, the confusion rattling even her scientific brain. The more he talks, the more questions arise and become more enigmatic.

“You, Mom. You and Dad are the ones who are blind.” Danny stares at her with a harshness she didn’t think he was capable of. “And until you see past your beliefs, I won’t tell you anything.”

He turns and walks out the door.

Maddie’s heart shatters.

What have we done?

—

“Get down and face us ghost!” Jack’s shout echoes through the streets of Amity Park, a shot of the bazooka following.

Phantom easily dances away from the shot, which lands and destroys a nearby building. The ghost twists to look at them, green eyes glaring with such ferocity that makes Maddie grip her gun tighter.

“Well I’m sorry that I’d rather not be shot at!” The ghost retorts, slugging a stolen thermos onto its belt. Her and Jack had been patrolling the streets, when in a rare chance, Phantom had been finishing up after another fight. Probably for territory.

“You’ve no other choice!” Maddie shouts back, strengthening her resolve as she surges forward. A green dot reflects on him as she takes perfect aim.

This is it, Maddie. This is all she’s ever wanted. To capture Phantom and stop the ghosts from terrorising Amity Park. At least by doing this, it might offer Danny some respite. He’s terrified of ghosts.

Danny… her prior helplessness returns in waves, making Maddie’s aim on the ghost falter. He stares at her with glowing green eyes, and she stares right back.

Just like Danny, even with a mischievous glower, deep down she can see the tiredness in Phantom’s eyes. That he’s sick of this too.

All the more reason to be rid of him. Her eyes narrow.

“Mads, what’s up?” Jack shouts, distracted from his shot as he turns to look at her and simultaneously fires. The shot veers off into a building, far off kilter from the intended target.

“I’m fine.” Maddie inhales, eyes narrowed. Since when did the air smell so strongly of decay? The stench is sweet and stings the back of her throat.

Holding her breath, Maddie points her ectogun at Phantom again. He’s not done anything, not tried to escape or make stupid remarks. He just remains there.

Floating. Staring.

Staring with those tired eyes.

Phantom floats down a little closer, maybe a foot or so infront of her. The aim on his chest is bright and burning, but Phantom doesn’t seem to care. Bile roses up Maddie’s throat as the smell becomes stronger.

The street is eerily silent, so much so that even Jack has put his gun down, letting it remain useless by his side.

Phantom stares.

“You need to see the truth.”

Just like Danny had said. Rage consumes her. How has he—how does he know what Danny said? She doesn’t know, she doesn’t care.

But now it makes sense. Why has Danny been like this.

Phantom’s been controlling him. Of course Danny wouldn’t say anything when Amity Park’s strongest ghost was threatening him to silence.

She looks at those eyes again. The tired green eyes. Almost pleading.

It’s just a ploy, and you know it.

Without hesitating, she points.

And shoots blankly in the chest.

Green and red everywhere.

—

She goes out at night, the full intention of finding Phantom. He’s downed and weak, lurking somewhere in Amity. It’s unlikely he has any sort of teleportation powers that can send him back to the ghost zone.

Her shot had surely been in close proximity.

In the dark, Maddie stalks the streets, trying best to blend in with the surroundings. She notes the scene of earlier that day, with the ectoplasm dully shining in the night. And then some darker patches, which make her stomach turn.

Ectoplasm and red. Ectoplasm and blood.

It shouldn’t be possible. Is it a trait carried over? If Phantom overshadows Danny for so long does Phantom get Danny’s traits too?

Danny’s got the cold, the tiredness, the green sheen to his eyes.

So Phantom would get blue eyes, warmth, perhaps a heartbeat and red ectoplasm?

Yes. That’s what it is. Phantom’s simply got red ectoplasm. It’s not blood, and the citrusy smell indicates so.

She recalls dinner time, what Danny had said. He’d been strangely reserved this time, much more than usual. He’d clenched a hand to his chest, and eaten very little.

“You deny and deny. It won’t help you. All the signs are laid out for you.”

He’d put his hand on his chest, and it’d been then that Maddie had noticed the branching scar on his left palm, disappearing down his long sleeved shirt.

A lichtenberg figure.

How’d he even get that? She thinks again, wracking her mind. There’s nothing jumping out at her, no accident or event where Danny got injured.

No. Maybe it’s not.

Rethink. Recoup.

Danny isn’t overshadowed. Why would Phantom tell you the exact same thing Danny said if he was overshadowing Danny? That would and did expose his whole scheme—and even for a ghost he’s smarter than that.

Moving away from the scene, she brings out the ghost tracker to try and find where Phantom is. There’s a trace of a powerful ectosignature up in the park.

Bingo. She thinks.

When she arrives at the park, it’s a haunting sight. The skeletons of trees are barely visible by the outline of the moon, and birds and critters chirrup in the distance. And there, on the top of the hill in the midst of the park, is a beacon of a figure.

Phantom. Careful not to bring attention to herself, Maddie puts the ectotracker into a compartment in her jumpsuit, watching the ghost’s every move.

Phantom’s hunched over, his knees tucked up to his chest. His green eyes are the brightest she’s ever seen, gazing up to the stars above. No fighting. No other ghosts.

Just Phantom, the silence and the stars.

“Have you ever thought about what's up there?” Phantom’s voice is just a whisper, yet it fractures the silence of the night.

Maddie freezes, instinctively reaching for an ectogun on her hip. She can’t do that though, not when she’s in the midst of research. What good would it be destroying the ghost that might have a connection her her son?

“You saw me?” The woman instead inquires.

“Of course I did.” Phantom narrows his green eyes before turning to look back at the sky. “Now if you’re gonna shoot me, can you at least get it out of the way or leave? I’m trying to stargaze here.”

“You enjoy stargazing?” She blurts without thinking. A ghost having hobbies? It should be impossible. All ghosts are driven by their obsessions.

Yet, here Phantom is. No other ghosts to fight and now crowds of people to cheer his heroics on.

“Of course I do.” The ghost hmphs , shooting her another fleeting look. Maddie guesses he’s getting testy about her being out of his line of vision.

Fine. She’ll bite just this once.

She’s about to talk when Phantom interrupts.

”You still haven’t realised, have you?” The ghost tilts his head in such a passive way it makes Maddie instinctively go for the ectogun. His smarmy, know-it-all attitude.

”What don’t I know?” She grits, playing along. It’s about Danny, it has to be. How they’re connected.

“You need to figure that one out yourself.” Phantom says dully, expression almost disappointed. “I can’t tell you.”

Clenching her fists, Maddie holds back the instinct to fire her ectogun again. She can’t go destroying Phantom a second time.

Is it just like Danny? That he wants to tell her, but can’t?

“I know my son is too terrified to even speak to me anymore! He was too scared because you’re threatening him.” Maddie narrows her eyes.

Phantom has the audacity to scoff, “You keep telling yourself that, then. You’ll not get anywhere if you think I’m to blame for the reason Danny doesn’t talk.”

Danny said that, too. That her and Jack were to blame for his withdrawal, that they needed to see the truth.

Maddie lets herself slump to the grass, grip on ectogun loosening. For the first time in years, she feels completely stumped.

Phantom hasn’t controlled Danny. He’s not threatened him. So what is Danny’s secret? Why the injuries, the constant absences?

“I just—“ she takes an intake of breath, trying to hold back the tears stinging the corners of her eyes, “I want to know what happened to him. It’s been so long. Danny’s so distant now, and I feel like I can never reach him.”

Out of the corner of her bleary vision, she notices Phantom watching. His posture stiffens, as if in shock.

She supposes such talk of Danny may come as a surprise to his system. After all, Phantom had to have parents once. Perhaps they were the reason for his…early demise.

There’s no doubt Phantom is a similar age to Danny. Perhaps recently dead, even.

“What about your parents?” She finds herself asking.

“Mine?” Phantom blinks, then considers. “Wasn’t one of your main theories that ghosts can’t remember their past lives?”

“Well..” Maddie feels her cheeks flush, before steeling herself, “This is your time to prove me wrong, isn’t it? Do you remember them?”

“Touché. I do.” The ghost pulls his knees up to his chest. “They were kind for the most part. Very aloof, though. Got so carried away with work that sometimes I slipped as their priority.”

And that’s just what she and Jack have done, isn’t it?

“That’s what me and Jack have done to Danny, I think.” The moment the words are out in the night, Maddie feels a sense of relief. She’s admitted it.

Never putting him first, and when she did finally notice it was too far gone. Of course Danny won’t open up to her now, given ghosts have prioritised over the past months.

“Yeah. I think so too.”

“I’m sorry Phantom. That you had to go through that, I mean. And your parents should’ve cared for you. Just like me and Jack should’ve for Danny.” She replies. “I’ll apologise to him tonight.”

The ghost gives her a crooked smile, strangely familiar. “I think he’ll know already that you mean well.”

And with that, Phantom looks back up at the stars, green eyes glimmering with reflections of galaxies. Maddie, feeling intrusive, stands up.

Hesitantly, she backs away, trying not to disturb the ghost.

But then Phantom looks at her over his shoulder. The expression is so strikingly familiar but she doesn’t know why, and stifles it down.

The starry glimmer in his eyes, the freckles sprinkled across his cheeks.

“Have you ever thought about what’s behind the portal?” His voice is gentle, steady. His aura flickers at the edges, brighter and fuzzier.

“No. We’ve never gone into the Ghost Zone.”

“Imagine it’s like the galaxy. There’s like, infinite galaxies. Just going on and on. There’s little pieces too. Sure you know that the ghost zone is through the portal, but have you ever wondered how it worked?”

She doesn’t know if she’s hearing things, but Phantom’s voice is getting weaker. His aura fizzling away like a candle on the last of its wick.

“—did you ever wonder how it switched on? What’s at the end of the endless tunnel?”

She’s not sure what’s going on. Or maybe she does. Phantoms drawling about the portal and she’s sure he’s fading—it doesn’t make sense.

“Why would we need to? We’ve never needed to know what’s behind the portal!” She responds, frazzled, “It’s just a wall.”

The strong scent of decay hits her again, making her stomach flip. It makes her nose burn, head clammy. Maddie presses her hands to her face, spluttering.

The portal. Electricity.

The decay.

“Are you sure?” Phantom's voice is echoey now, distant. “Or have you been so blind that you never saw the truth rotting behind the green?”

When Maddie uncovers her hands, the overpowering smell is gone. As is Phantom.

Only her and the glimmering stars.

—

The litchenberg. Of course.

The portal is the only damned thing in that lab with a voltage strong enough to cause such damage.

Maddie doesn’t even process coming back from the park until she yanks open the house door and runs into the kitchen.

”Mads!” Jack says in surprise, halfway through a packet of fudge, “Where’ve you been?”

Danny. Danny.

He’s in his room, has to be. She ignores Jack, dashing up the stairs, pleading that she won’t find what she thinks.

It can’t be true. None of this is right. Danny’s just...troubled. Sure, something is not right. But it’s none of this mess.

Behind her, Jack’s footsteps thump up the stairs, calling out for her in concern.

She rips the door open. Empty.

No unmade bed, or small lump of Danny under the sheets. No trash on the floor, strewn clothes.

”Is this about Danny?” Jack chatters, paling when he notices the absence, “Maybe he’s just ran off again?”

Maddie feels numb, heart sinking to her stomach. Her legs are heavy, weighted down by invisible anchors, chest feeling as fried as the portals shock.

God. The portal. That did this.

Their fault.

“Jack—it—it was the portal!” She finally manages to gasp out.

And then they’re in the lab, facing the green swirling vortex which reflects off of the tiles. Once a workplace, a sanctuary for her and Jack to make their weapons and research ghosts. Countless hours put into the Fenton brand.

How many of those are structured on lies?

Something catches her throat. There it is again, the putrid sweetness that claws into her lungs, makes her eyes water.

”Switch it off.” Maddie splutters, stumbling forward towards the green door. Once their pride and joy.

Now…

Jack presses the button. Sirens wail in her ears from the deployment.

And then they are in darkness. For the first time since initiation, the portal is still. No undertones of humming or neon green reflecting the walls.

Just stillness.

Maddie gulps, trying hold the bile rising in her throat.

”Mads…there’s something…” Jack whispers behind her, pointing directly at the back of the portal. Something small, a heap.

How long has it been here? Since the start? Just months?

Waiting. Decaying more by the day, desperately wanting them to set aside their blindness to realise what was lying infront of them the whole time.

Legs trembling, she traverses forward. The tang hits the back of her throat again, almost sickly sweet. Pasted into her memory for eternity.

And there something white juts up like a gnarled branch, gleaning slightly from the rubber material.

It’s irrefutable. HAZMAT.

And then the other, gnarled arm, withered and blackened, crisped like a branch in a bonfire. Black hair upon its head, once downy, now stiff as straw, inky as raven feathers. Skin—or what was, withered and twisted.

Eyes neither blue nor green.

Yet unmistakably Danny.

[starlightkun]

⇢ word count: 19.1k ⇢ warnings: past unethical experimentation, brief blood and gore descriptions (some human and some non-human), you have to accept the premise of a single human empire in space in the future with colonies and a military and not think deeper about that, needle/injection mention ⇢ genre: sci-fi, set in the near-ish future, humans and aliens and robots, black op mission, captain kun, ?????? reader, slow burn, fluff, dash of angst, ft. wayv as the crew of the vision ⇢ extra info: took a lot of obvious inspo for this one from isaac asimov’s robot stories, specifically his concept of positronic brains & the three laws of robotics (and if you’ve read any of his stories, you’ll probably be able to see some other places too) ⇢ author’s note: ahhh she’s finally here! i hope you guys are as excited for part one as i am!! ⇢ series masterlist | next

Frankenstein complex (noun) ── The fear of mechanical men.

The air smelled like blood, burned electrical components, and whatever horrible odor came from blood getting onto electrical components as they sparked. All the blood wasn’t human, you could tell that, too. Skipper blood always stung your nose like rubbing alcohol. It was pitch black in the space you were hiding in, or maybe it was just nighttime. You should be scared, but your heart wasn’t beating fast for some reason.

Two pairs of heavy footfalls. One was heavier than the other. Walking, so definitely not Skippers. Both were still too light to be heavier races.

They slowed to a stop outside your hiding spot, and you really hoped they couldn’t read the Outspacer controls that would open the otherwise impossible-to-see door. After all, it was a language that had been dead for hundreds of millions of years, there was no way—

“Hey, Zennie, you got a read on these?” A man’s voice came from nearby, muffled by both the wall and presumably a helmet as well. Human, or related species.

You couldn’t hear this ‘Zennie’s reply, as it most likely came through the comms in his helmet, but you could hear the man’s side of the conversation.

“Oh, of course, how dare I, a mere meatsack, doubt your high-and-mighty artificial intelligence,” he replied with fake deference. “Yeah, yeah, I know that’s not what you meant. Alright, so just tell me which one’s the self-destruct button so I don’t press it?”

“Move, Wong, before you blow us up.” Another voice interjected. “ZEN? You said it’s a passageway? Oh, safe shelter. Bit different, don’t you think? Mind translating the dead language right the first time?”

He paused as he probably listened to Zen’s reply, then continued, “So? You know which one’s the open button?”

You couldn’t go anywhere. The hideout you were in was designed to hold only a few people for weather emergencies, to be structurally sound; not to have a back door in case you needed to escape intruders. You just had to hope Zen was completely wrong and they wouldn’t get it open.

Click.

There goes that.

The door dematerialized, and the rancid smell from before became even stronger. A man peered in barrel-first, and you recoiled back from the sudden light flooding your vision. You couldn’t press yourself any further back into the corner, but you still turned your head away to shield your sensitive eyes.

It only took a couple strides for one of the men to reach you, the other stayed back in the hallway, keeping his rifle fixed on you. The man stood over where you were sitting on the floor—your legs had gotten tired of standing after so long—and lowered his gun slightly so you could see the entirety of the front plate that covered his face. It was a reflective shield that gave you no clue to who was behind it, only let you see a warped, thinned and stretched version of yourself cowering in a corner. His armor was an improved version of the standard issue United Human Navy, if the insignia on both of his shoulders didn’t make that clear enough. It looked the same as the standard issue, but the heft of his footsteps had belied a weight difference that wasn’t explained by his stature or build, so it must be the grade of material.

“Are you hurt?” His voice came through an external speaker on his helmet. He was speaking in standard human. You couldn’t detect any sort of odd stiltedness or lag that sometimes happened with computer-assisted translations. He was assuming you understood standard human, and you did.

“No,” you replied, slowly uncrossing your arms to show your hands first, that you didn’t have anything hidden in them to attack him with. You still weren’t scared, for some reason.

“Oh, she’s pretty,” his companion commented from the hallway. The two of them must be sharing helmet feeds, as the one in front of you was definitely blocking most of you from his sight.

“Wong, shut it.” The outer speaker had been turned off for that, but it was still pretty clear to you.

“Sir, yes sir.”

“Can you stand?” His weapon was still at the ready, his finger resting above the trigger.

You couldn’t remember the last time you’d wiggled your fingers and toes, and it felt good to do it. “Yes.”

He stepped back, the unexpressive mirror of his face shield watching as you pushed up from your half-sit half-crouch, bracing yourself against the wall. Your body instinctively took a deep breath to try to recover from the sudden exertion, but the vaporized Skipper blood burned your entire respiratory tract, and you coughed and spluttered trying to force it back out, catching yourself on the wall on your forearms to stay upright. The odor made your head swim, your eyes water, and your chest hurt like someone had put gasoline in your lungs and struck a match.

“Okay, woah, woah.” Two gloved hands were on your arms and back, helping you stay up. His voice was muffled again as he switched to his in-helmet comms, “Xiao, get over here! We’ve got a survivor! Yes, really, just look at my stream.”

Then, his voice was projecting to you once more, “Breathe, breathe.”

You felt the roughness of a thumb wiping at the tears running down your cheeks, the durable material of his glove scratching against your skin. He grabbed the front of your shirt collar, pulling it up towards your face at the same time he firmly pulled your hand down that had been covering your mouth as you wheezed. Positioning the material over your nose and mouth into a makeshift filter of some sort, he continued holding it there for you as you took a few breaths.

“Better?”

You nodded shallowly. The smell of Skipper blood still cloyed to your throat and lungs, but the shirt helped keep more from entering.

More footsteps from down the hall, then another pair entered the shelter.

“Holy shit…” Someone breathed out.

“I know, man,” the voice that you were already pretty sure was ‘Wong’ from earlier replied.

“How long has she been in here?” A fourth voice asked, belonging to the footsteps getting closer to you.

“I don’t know,” the man already with you answered. “Wong and I just found her while clearing this sector.”

“Okay, well, you mind, Captain?” He said indicatively. “Can’t examine my patient through you.”

“You got it?” The captain asked you, shaking the collar slightly.

You took it from him, holding it over the bridge of your nose yourself as he had been doing for you before. Looking into his face shield where you were pretty sure his eyes should be, you nodded firmly this time.

He didn’t step back until you felt another pair of gloves grabbing your elbows where he had been. The newcomer’s uniform differed from the others’ in one way, he had a neon green rectangular patch on his right arm below his UHN insignia, as well as a few other places—intergalactic signal for medic. It was removable for the wearer’s own safety, and his in particular was slightly askew, as if he’d just slapped it back on in a hurry.

The medic flipped through the pockets of a pack strapped to his thigh before pulling out a small disc of clear plastic and pushing that against your hand. “Here, this’ll work a lot better than your shirt.”

You accepted it, and he helped you orient it the right way over your nose and mouth. It was apparently a mask or rebreather of some sort. It wasn’t exceptionally bulky, and you could feel that there was some sort of fine mesh material on the inside. Immediately, you could tell the difference. The air coming into your lungs carried only the slightest tinge of lingering burning electronics smell, and while you could tell that there was Skipper blood, it didn’t burn, or make your head spin. It was just unpleasant.

“There. How’s that?”

You gave him a thumbs-up, the standard human gesture for good, since they all seemed to speak standard human. The mask didn’t allow much room for talking.

“Alright, good. Are you injured?”

You shook your head.

“Do you feel pain anywhere?”

You shook your head again.

“Good, good. I have more questions, but we should get somewhere you can breathe. Give me a second.” He looked upwards as if talking to the heavens, and his outer speaker turned off. “Liu? Professor? Did you finish clearing the building? Alright, ZEN, got readings on air quality for her?”

After a pause, both the medic, Xiao, and the captain, who had been hovering behind him the whole time, nodded.

“Thanks, ZEN.” Xiao’s speaker turned on, “Here, our teammates found somewhere that you can breathe. It’s going to be a little bit of a walk, though. Is that okay?”

You nodded. Your legs would just have to deal.

“It’s not pretty out here…” The only one that hadn’t been identified to you in passing called out as a warning from his position in the hallway with ‘Wong.’

You turned around and pushed off the wall as your answer.

Stepping into the hall, you knew why you had smelled that particular concoction of smells. Just off to your left were two dead Skippers, their uniquely-articulated hind limbs that gave them their distinct gait—and consequently, the questionably flattering nickname from humans—stuck out at awkward angles now. Dark purple sludge seeped out from under their armor, Skipper blood. On the outside of the armor were smears, streaks, and splatters turned a gleaming ruby red under the emergency lights, human blood.

You couldn’t see any dead humans, or pieces of them, in this corner, but you remembered what the captain had called you. A survivor. Which meant there were others who didn’t survive.

“Come on.” It was the captain who ushered you the other direction from the Skipper bodies. “This way.”

Their helmets must have been mapping out the facility as the unit cleared it and displaying a route in all of their HUDs, because the four of them moved as if they knew the building like the back of their hand. The captain and Xiao flanked you on either side, with Wong at the front and the fourth unnamed one at the rear. You couldn’t tell if it felt more like a protection detail or a prisoner transport.

You kept your eyes on your feet not only so you didn’t have to see all of the mutilation, or to keep from stepping in something, but to avoid the unsettling, cold dread slowly sinking over you when from the moment you caught a look at the first dead human you passed by with her remarkably in-tact face, dandelion yellow blouse and lab coat, and realized you didn’t recognize her. When you inhaled sharply and shot your eyes down to your feet, you could tell that the captain noticed. He turned his head just ever so slightly towards you, off of the consistent path it had been before, and he paused, then went back to keeping watch.

They weren’t kidding when they said it was a bit of a walk. You could feel the muscles in your legs get sore, then start twitching, then start shaking, but you didn’t even consider asking to stop.

“Woah, Liu, slow down!” The captain ordered into his headset. “Okay, yeah, I see it. Don’t touch anything. We’re just sweeping right now, remember?”

“Great, the kid’s found more toys,” the one behind you snorted.

Xiao and Wong suddenly erupted into more laughter than that statement warranted you were pretty sure.

Wong then informed him with a snicker, “Mic’s on, Ten.”

“You say that as if I wouldn’t have said that to his face, too,” the one now finally identified as Ten retorted.

“ZEN, the mics, please?” The captain sighed. “Thank you.”

“Now he’s going to whine that we were shit talking him behind his back,” Xiao groaned. “Again.”

“Well we are,” Ten laughed.

“If he just stopped acting like a baby, Captain here wouldn’t have to step in and put him in time out all the time,” Wong clicked his tongue.

“You think he’s the one in time out right now?” The captain replied dryly.

You couldn’t help but let out a small chuckle into your mask, trying to cover it up with a cough when all four of their reflective shields whipped around to face you, as if they’d forgotten you were there. After an uncomfortable stretch of silence, they all shifted back into their watchful stances.

The captain suddenly spoke again, “Yes, Professor? Okay, sure… ZEN, put that on everyone’s HUDs.”

The lack of commentary from any of them for seemingly several minutes was startling, and you weren’t sure if you wanted to know what this ‘Professor’ was showing them.

“We’re going to have to go back there after dropping Xiao and her off, aren’t we?” Wong was the first to speak.

“Don’t ask questions you don’t want the answers to,” Ten sighed.

“Or already know the answer to,” the captain said. “If she has any wounds that Xiao needs to tend to, one of you will stay to keep guard. If not, it’ll be Ten and Wong with me to meet up with Liu and the Professor, and Xiao will stay with her.”

“Alright, Ten,” Wong rolled out his neck. “Rock paper scissors?”

“Almost there,” Wong called out from ahead of you. Your internal clock told you it was almost half an hour since they found you.

“It’s just through those doors,” the captain informed you, indicating to the double doors on the opposite side of the large atrium you were in. This area had been mostly untouched by the carnage, it seemed.

“The building does have Gecks, but none of those seemed to have made it out in one piece,” Xiao added, explaining why you hadn’t used the small four-seater all-terrain vehicles, parts of which you had occasionally seen strewn about. “Sorry.”

You shrugged one shoulder at him in what you hoped he could interpret as an understanding gesture, as you were pretty sure this wasn’t their fault. From the context that you were trying to gather very quickly, they had only just gotten here.

Wong pushed one of the doors open, and the captain went in right behind to do a quick sweep, shouting out a short ‘clear!’ before Xiao led you in, and Ten followed in last, Wong shutting it firmly behind him.

You had emerged into something that looked impossible. An entire world bigger than the building you were in before, but definitely contained in one room, as when you turned around, you could still find the door. Ahead of you were rolling hills of vibrant crops, and your hand fell from your face, taking the rebreather with it. The air in here was fresh and crisp, and of course it was, this was the ag bubble. It must have remained untouched from the conflict outside because it was completely self-sustaining, needing no human intervention to planet, grow, or maintain the crops, so there would have been nobody in here in the first place.

“Okay, I’ll ask again: Any pain?” Xiao questioned you, taking his gloves off, and revealing rather delicate hands for a military medic. He motioned like he was about to grab your arm. “Can I?”

You nodded, holding it out for him to lift and turn your limb to visibly inspect it as you verbally answered his first question. “No, no pain, no injuries, I swear. I mean, my legs are a bit sore from walking, but that’s it.”

He let it hang back down at your side before doing the same to the other arm. “Hit your head?”

“Uh, I don’t think so?” You bent your head to let him quickly feel at your scalp through your hair for any bumps, lacerations, or other evidence of injury.

“Have all your toes?”

“Haven’t counted lately…?”

“Do it now.”

And so everybody stood around while you awkwardly took your shoes and socks off to make sure you had all ten toes, and that they weren’t necrotic, then you finally sat down to pull your socks and shoes back on. Xiao took your pulse manually at your wrist, before having you breathe into a small device and sampling a pinprick of blood from your finger with the same tool. After a moment, the screen lit up green, along with your specific readings.

“Satisfied, Xiao?” The captain asked.

“Absolutely,” the medic nodded. “More compliant than all of my patients as of late.”

“Good. We’re going to head out to catch up with the others and check that out.”

“Better you than me.”

“Hold on guys, aren’t we forgetting something?” Wong stopped the other two from leaving.

Ten and the captain looked at each other, then back to Wong.

“What, Wong? And we’re not guessing, spit it out or shut up,” the captain demanded, crossing his arms over his chest.

Wong reached up and pulled his helmet off in one grand motion, the first of any of them to have done so. He shook his dark, shaggy hair out—you wondered if that length was perhaps a bit too long for UHN standards, as it was almost covering his ears—before focusing a wide grin on you. Wong crouched down in front of you.

“Do angels have names?”

The other three groaned and swore at varying volumes.

You stared at him blankly, unsure of why this was receiving such backlash from the others, and why they all also seemed to be waiting for your response. When it had quieted down a little bit, you cleared your throat, and answered hesitantly, “I-I don’t know. Do they? I’m sorry, I’m not a theologist… I don’t think I even believe in the divine, really.”

Wong’s jaw dropped as he stared at you, and Ten and Xiao began howling with laughter. The captain marched over, cuffing him by the ear. “That’s enough. Get up! Stop harassing the woman.”

“Ow! That hurt!” Wong cradled the side of his head as he pulled himself to his feet.

“Should’ve kept your helmet on.” The captain yanked Wong away by his scruff as the soldier struggled to put his gear back on. “Do it again and I’m throwing you out of the Vision into the next star. Understand me, Corporal?”

“Zennie! Not helpful, dude! I don’t think that was him asking how close the closest star was!” Wong yelped.

Wong, Ten, and the captain disappeared through the door, and you could no longer hear them, but judging by Xiao’s chuckling, they were still going at it, and it was apparently funny. You looked up at the one remaining soldier you were left with inquisitively.

“Oh, sorry, here.” Xiao popped his helmet off as well, and you got to see his sharp features for the first time. He set it on the ground at his feet, and you noted that he pointed the face shield away from you. “I’m Xiao Dejun. You can just call me Dejun, if you’d like.”

“Don’t you need to hear your teammates?” You asked hesitantly, looking at the helmet.

“Earpiece,” he tapped a small device nestled in his left ear. “There are some advantages to not having the neural port. Like not having an AI inside of my goddamn brain.”

“You also don’t have a rifle,” you observed for the first time. Before, you had presumed that it was merely slung over his back, but now you could clearly see that the bulk there was more packs of medical supplies.

“I’m a terrible shot, barely got past basic. I’d just make more patients if I had one,” he laughed, then patted a holster on his right thigh. “Captain makes me carry a pistol, though.”

You looked off towards a rippling field of grain nearby, trying not to think of that woman’s face, her yellow blouse, because then you’d think about why you didn’t know her. She was in a lab coat, this was some kind of scientific facility, you were sure of it, you knew that, so why didn’t you know her—

“Sorry about Wong, by the way,” Dejun very thankfully caught your attention again, offering you your second smile of the day. “I promise, he wasn’t trying to be greasy. He’s a goofball, he was trying to make you laugh, put you at ease, you know? But clearly, that wasn’t the way to do it. So again, sorry.”

“He wasn’t asking a theological question?” You clarified.

He tilted his head, giving you a strange, bemused look. “No, he was asking what your name is. It’s an old, cheesy Earth pickup line. Or, I guess it must be unique to Earth, since you don’t know it. Are you from a colony or…?”

“I… don’t know,” you trailed off, the corners of your mouth turning down as you tried to think harder.

“You don’t know your name? Or if you’re from a colony?”

“My name’s Y/N.” You could answer that immediately. That was familiar, yours.

“So you don’t remember if you’re from Earth or a colony?”

You squeezed your eyes shut as you tried to think harder, but it felt like you were just scrambling in a dark, empty room. “No, I don’t know.”

“Hey, that’s okay. Relax, Y/N,” he said gently. “Just relax right now, okay?”

Dejun took one of the packs off his back and started rooting through it. “How long were you in there? I’m sure you’re thirsty, and hungry.”

“I don’t know…”

His brow furrowed as he offered a canteen out to you. “Here. Water.”

“Thank you.”

Slowly, the man with you lowered himself down until he was sitting across from you, linking his fingers together. He let you open the bottle and take a few deep gulps of water. You couldn’t remember the last time you had water, but it felt great to drink it again.

“Y/N…” The medic said calmly. “What is the first thing you can remember? The oldest hard memory you have?”

You wiped away a stray drop that had rolled down your chin, and scraped through your brain, but came up startlingly empty. “I-I guess smelling blood, all the human blood and Skipper blood, and then hearing footsteps outside where I was hiding. Wong’s and the captain’s, right before they found me.”

His eyes went wide, and his nostrils flared as his features turned serious. “Your oldest memory is less than an hour old?”

That same unsettling, cold dread that had started sinking down over you since you saw the woman fully coated you, and you involuntarily shivered. Cautiously, hesitantly, as if afraid that you were erring somehow, you nodded. “I take back what I said earlier, Dejun. I think there’s something very, very wrong with me.”

Dejun asked you round after round of questions walking through the very first thing you could remember right up to that very second, until he let out a long sigh.

“Well, so far it seems like you’re forming memories right now just fine,” he declared. “And you at least remember your name, which is good.”

“I knew you guys were UHN, and that you were a medic because of your green patch,” you reiterated insistently, feeling like you were going in circles with your own mind. How could you possibly know about the United Human Navy and military visual codes but not if you were from Earth or not?

“Okay, so you’ve been around the Navy before. If you were at this place, that makes sense. You don’t have a neural port, so you were probably a military contractor of some sort.”

You immediately latched onto this clue. “What is this place?”

Dejun offered you a regretful look. “Already said too much. That’s a question for the captain, sorry.”

You sighed, but didn’t push him. Pointing to the exit, you tried another avenue of your apparent knowledge. “I know those aliens are called Skippers.” 

“Definitely UHN with that lingo.” Dejun grinned at you. “One of us.”

“But I don’t know why they were here. Or why I’m here.”

“Don’t push yourself.”

“And I know that this place is an agriculture bubble, ag bubble for short, and what that is, and the basics of how and why it works, and what it’s for, but not why it would be here. Or why I would be here—ow!” You held the front of your head as a dull pressure started up from the inside.

“Y/N?” Dejun scrambled closer, his voice concerned. “What’s going on?”

“My head hurts,” you scrunched your nose up against the feeling.

“Where? Describe it for me. Is it a throbbing? Stabbing? Shooting? Aching? Squeezing?”

“The front mostly. Feels like something’s pushing from the inside out, kind of,” you explained, dropping your hand to let him do another, more thorough examination for any head injuries.

“A pressure?”

“Yeah.”

“You’ve got to take it easy,” he told you frankly. “The human brain’s a finnicky, unpredictable thing. And I’m just talking about the squishy part inside your skull. Interrogating it about why you can remember some things and why you can’t remember other things isn’t going to make you remember those things. I can’t see any injury on the outside, but since you can’t remember whether or not you were injured, and we don’t have anybody else to say either way, we can’t discount that your amnesia came from an injury. If you sprained your ankle, you wouldn’t be running a marathon on it. Same thing with an injured brain, okay?”

“Okay,” you acquiesced, grabbing the canteen again. Already, your head was feeling a little better.

“You’re officially the easiest patient I’ve ever had,” he declared, sitting back down. “If I had lollipops to give out, you’d get one.”

Before you could say anything, Dejun held up a finger for you to wait, then grabbed his helmet and yanked it back on. “What the fuck… Alright, yeah, I agree, this is the best place to set up camp. Y/N confirmed it’s an ag bubble, we’ll be able to—Can I finish? Anyway, it’s an ag bubble, so we’ll be able to live here indefinitely. Cool, we’ll see you guys soon.”

Dejun took the helmet off again, resting it on his hip as he informed you, “Everyone’s coming back here to set up camp.”

“Making camp in the ag bubble does make the most sense,” you stated, looking around you. “Fresh air, running water, obviously unlimited food.”

“Glad you agree.”

“How long is your team supposed to be here?”

“Question for the captain.”

“Seems as though I have a lot of questions for the captain,” you sighed, resting your cheek on your knees as you traced figure-eights in the grass with your finger.

“He’s going to have a few for you as well.”

“I would ask what everybody went to go investigate, but I have a feeling…”

“Just wait until he gets back.”

“As I had guessed.”

There was a short rhythm of knocks at the door to the ag bubble, and Dejun jogged over to open it. “Clear!”

A group of UHN soldiers all entered, talking among themselves, though you could tell when their reflective face shields occasionally turned over towards you. You were still sitting on the ground, hugging your knees to your chest, and uncertainly got to your feet, brushing away any stray dirt that may have clung to you. Dejun put himself between them and you, holding his hands out, and you could very clearly hear the word ‘amnesia’ a few times as he seemed to be sternly prefacing this introduction, taking his role as your doctor seriously.

Judging by how he held himself, the one that you were pretty sure was the captain cocked his head at this information, but remained quiet through Dejun’s small spiel. The medic gestured as if he were rushing them, and they all reached up to take their helmets off as well. He finally led them over to you, offering you a reassuring smile.

“Y/N, this is the crew of the Vision,” he motioned to all five of them. “I’ll let our captain take over on introductions.”

“Thanks, Lieutenant,” the one that you had already pinpointed as the captain from afar spoke up. Despite not being the tallest of them, he held himself differently, as if there was some weight there that you couldn’t see, but he carried with a straight back and level shoulders nevertheless. “I’m Captain Qian Kun of the United Human Navy vessel the Vision. I’m sure our doctor, Lieutenant Xiao, has already introduced himself. This is the rest of my… ragtag team: Corporal Wong Kunhang…”

You looked at the only other man aside from Dejun who was familiar to you, who fixed you with an exceptionally apologetic gaze.

“I am very sorry about earlier, ma’am,” he bowed his head regretfully, hands clasped behind his back.

“Oh, thank you,” you responded. “I’m sure you’re very funny, Corporal Wong, to other people.”

A couple of the others let out snickers as they tried to stay at attention, Dejun and another openly bursting into laughter. The taller one quickly scrambled to get back into his position and push down his smile as the captain focused his gaze on all of them again.

Captain Qian continued, “Staff Sergeant Ten Lee.”

He flashed you a grin. “It’s a pleasure, ma’am.”

“Lieutenant Liu Yangyang…”

“Nice to meet you!” Lieutenant Liu beamed at you, though there was a weird little glint in his eye that you weren’t sure if you liked. It was like he was trying to take you apart piece by piece. His gaze hadn’t left you through everybody else’s introduction, and you weren’t liking having to meet it now. “And can I just say, I think you’re one of the funniest beings in the galaxy? Definitely funnier than Wong over there.”

“Kid’s making some points,” Ten elbowed Wong.

Captain Qian suddenly took over again very loudly, “And finally, our only civilian member of the crew, Professor Dong Sicheng, Department of Xenolinguistics at New Beijing University.”

This was the other guy who had outright laughed a moment ago, and you could tell he was much less comfortable with the stiff military position before Captain Qian had informed you he was a civilian. Despite his civilian status, though, he was in the same armor and carried the same arms as everyone else—more firepower than Dejun did. You were just glad to not have to be making eye contact with Liu anymore. It felt like he knew something that you didn’t, and you definitely didn’t like that, given your current predicament.

Six of them. Turning back to Captain Qian, you tilted your head curiously. “ZEN is… your ship’s AI? And you all have a synchronous fragment in your helmets, earpieces, and neural ports?”

A couple of them looked at Dejun incredulously.

“I didn’t tell her. She has amnesia, she’s not an idiot,” he retorted.

“Maybe you did something with tech,” Ten suggested. “Could be why you were here.”

“What did I just tell you about stressing her memory?” Dejun scolded him. “She needs to rest.”

“We all do,” Captain Qian agreed. “After we set up camp. Come on.”

Dejun shooed you away from helping to set up camp despite already knowing that you had no physical injuries, finally giving you a task of making sure all of his emergency canteens in his medic packs had fresh water from the river nearby. You knew it was busy work, but did it anyway, glad to feel useful.

Loaded up with canteens slung around your waist and shoulders, you took the paved pathways between the acres of crops until you reached a crystal clear river. There were some areas that were sandy shores, and others that were grassy drop-offs. Stopping at a grassy drop-off, you sat down, the canteens clanking against each other. You took them off and poured out the water in them one-by-one, making a pile of empty canteens. Then you leaned over the edge and filled them up from the cool, gentle current, starting a second pile of full canteens.

You could feel the thud of heavy footsteps in the ground, and knew who was approaching you before Captain Qian even spoke.

“Mind if I join you?” He asked, and you looked over your shoulder to see him holding a large, empty water jug. “You seem to have grabbed the best spot.”

“Not at all.” You jerked your head towards the empty space on the other side of your full canteen pile.

He sat as well, grabbing an apparatus the size of his hand off the side and lowering that into the water instead of the entire jug. It was connected to the jug by a tube, and you watched as it moved water up from the river into the top of the container.

“Dejun didn’t tell me about ZEN earlier,” you said abruptly, trying to vouch for the doctor who so far had been the kindest person that you could remember in your life. “Really, I was guessing just from how you guys were talking—”

“It’s okay, Y/N, we weren’t being very discrete,” Captain Qian assured you. “Xiao isn’t one for lying to cover his ass, either. I believe him when he says that he didn’t tell you who exactly ZEN is.”

“There were a lot of questions I was asking that he couldn’t answer. Just kept telling me to ask you.”

“Like what?”

“Don’t you already know? His earpiece…”

“ZEN isolates comms as necessary when the unit is split up. The other five of us needed to hear each other more than we needed to eavesdrop on you two in here.”

You gnawed on your bottom lip nervously. “…He told me to take it easy, with my brain and the amnesia.”

“Maybe we can gently jog your memory,” he suggested.

“How?”

“That woman in the hall, in the yellow top. Did you know her?”

“I don’t know…” You replied regretfully. You were apparently the only person alive in this building, and couldn’t identify that woman. Were you friends? Should you be mourning her? Did she have a family? Was there anybody to tell to mourn her? It felt wrong that nobody would. And there were even more like that who you didn’t look at, who you hadn’t seen.

“It’s a big building. There were probably a lot of people working here. You might not have known everybody,” he replied casually.

You pushed one of your hands against your eye, against the pressure that was coming back. “No, I don’t… I don’t know anything. About what this place was for.”

“Alright, alright,” he held up his free hand in surrender.

When your head hurt less, and you had filled up a couple more canteens, you changed your focus. He had asked you a question, it was only fair you asked him one.

“Why are you guys here? To stop the Skippers?”

“No. We didn’t know there was any alien presence until we arrived and saw the ships out front.”

You kept your gaze on the running water as you tried to work through the information you were getting. “Then why did your team get sent here?”

“We’re trying to figure out what happened here too.”

“No,” you rejected that immediately, pointing in his general direction accusatorily. It didn’t make sense with everything you already knew. “You didn’t know there were Skippers here until you got here. Now you’re trying to figure out what happened here. So why were you coming here in the first place?”

The captain breathed out, his tone dropping the strained casualness it had before. “This is a UHN research facility. We were sent to investigate reports of unsanctioned experiments being conducted here.”

You snapped your head up to look at him. “What kind of experiments?”

“Look, rumors about this kind of stuff is everywhere. Urban legends, pulp fiction, everyone’s heard something about illegal government experiments. But reputable intelligence on this kind of stuff is few and far between. This one was trusted enough to get us out here, but unfortunately sparse on details.”

“I don’t know anything about it.”

“As you’ve already said,” he replied tersely.

“I don’t,” you repeated.

“I didn’t say you were lying.”

You didn’t love the pace that the captain was drip feeding you information, or for whatever purpose of his own that he was doing it, but he was giving you information, and in your state, that was vital. So you kept him engaged. “How do Skippers figure into those experiments?”

“We don’t know.”

“So it seems like we’re on the same page here.” You could almost laugh.

“Yes.”

When you looked over at Captain Qian, there was maybe the faintest curl of a smile at the corner of his mouth, but as soon as you had questioned it in your mind, it was gone. He continued filling his jug, and you continued filling the canteens. You were still thinking about his heavy footsteps, and wanted to keep him talking, wanted to grasp at any information you could get in hopes it slotted it somewhere in your own mind.

“Your armor…” You began, eyes dragging over the pieces he was wearing, everything except his helmet. “How can you wear it?”

He crooked an eyebrow up at you curiously. “You mean aside from putting it on my body?”

You looked at him entirely unamused before continuing, “It’s made to look like standard UHN armor, but I can hear that it’s made of material far denser than your teammates’.”

Both of his eyebrows lifted in surprise momentarily, before his expression was neutral once more, and he calmly informed you, “Minor skeletal enhancements.”

So that’s why he moved differently from the others.

“Why didn’t your teammates receive them?”

“The UHN doesn’t need to spend the money to equip every soldier with minor skeletal enhancements for armor that is very expensive to make.”

“So why are you worth the very expensive armor, then?”

“It’s actually the old stuff, they’ve moved on to newer and better.” He was done filling the jug now and stood up. “I’m not worth the expensive stuff anymore.”

“Why don’t they give you the new one?”

“It’s bigger and heavier, my skeletal enhancements wouldn’t be able to support it. They need younger people for that program.”

“You… are not very old,” you observed plainly.

He shouldered the jug of water that was bigger than his entire torso as if it were a pillow. “No. I’m not.”

You didn’t appreciate how he had skirted some of your questions, like why he had been chosen for such a program, but the scale of information he had implicitly given you in just a few words was more than enough to leave you floored. If that’s what the UHN was doing above the board, you weren’t sure if you wanted to find out what they considered unsanctionable—what was going on here.

Returning to the others, you were happy to see a fully set up camp, and handed over the refilled canteens to Dejun, who made sure to thank you profusely and reassure you that you were a huge help. Despite it feeling a little patronizing, you were satisfied at having at least done something rather than sitting around watching them do everything while you did nothing.

“Y/N!” Someone called out your name, you looked over your shoulder to see Ten and Wong approaching you.

“Yes, Corporal?”

He laughed and shook his head. “You don’t have to do that. Kunhang and Ten is just fine.”

His companion nodded in agreement.

“We’re on dinner duty,” Kunhang pointed between the two of them. “Do you know what all is in here?”

“Do you people know the meaning of the word amnesia?” Dejun snapped. “Honestly, ask ZEN if—”

“There should be a panel by the entrance that tells you that,” you answered, pointing towards the door. “I don’t think I remember the specifics of this ag bubble, but I’m pretty sure I’m remembering that correctly. Right? They all have information panels at the entrance?”

“It does,” Ten assured you of your knowledge. “It’s in Outspacer. We uploaded it to ZEN, but he— Oh, thanks, man.”

“Zennie, incredible timing as always,” Kunhang rolled his eyes. He smiled at you. “Never mind, got everything we need. Thanks!”

They walked away into the fields, and you turned back to Dejun, who was now organizing his supplies in his tent.

“I wish I could be more help,” you sighed.

“Y/N, come here,” he gestured you into the open entrance of the tent. You obliged, and he plopped down onto a cot on one side, then pointed to the other for you to sit. “They didn’t actually need your help.”

“But they asked—”

“I know. Without divulging too much, I can tell you that the seven of us have been essentially the only people we’ve all been around for… months on end.”

“I see.” You nodded, noting how he seemed to be including ZEN in that count. “I’m someone new to talk to.”

“Right. And the next thing I’m going to say, I do hope you don’t take this the wrong way. You’re also a pretty woman.”

“Oh…”

“Don’t get me wrong, you’re safe with us. But I’m just saying that you’ll probably be getting more attention than if we had a new guy in camp.”

“Is that why Liu keeps looking at me like that?” You asked.

“Like what?” Dejun’s brow furrowed.

“Like… I don’t know, he just keeps looking at me. Like he’s studying me.”

He shook his head. “I’ll talk to him. Kid probably isn’t used to seeing a human woman after so long.”

“Is there anything else I can help with?”

“I don’t have anything for you,” he said regretfully, then tapped his ear. “Captain? Yeah, what’s your location? Right, thanks, I’m sending Y/N your way.” He focused back on you. “Captain Qian’s in his tent, you can see if he has anything for you to do.”

“Which one’s his tent?”

“Right next door.”

“Ah. Thanks.”

You ducked out of Dejun’s tent, heading over to the next one. There was no door to knock on, but Captain Qian could already see you, and waved you in.

“Yes, Y/N? Do you need something?” He seemed to be in the middle of performing some sort of inspection of his armor, wearing only the bottom half of it, leaving him in a white tank top as he held the chest plate and paced in the small space of the tent.

“Is there something wrong with your armor?” You asked.

“Just routine maintenance,” he replied, stopping to remove an inner panel and set it on one of the cots that was already full of armor pieces. “ZEN detected an abnormal heart rate earlier, but I can’t see any reason for that.”

“Why are you checking your chestplate for that? Wouldn’t ZEN be monitoring your vitals through your neural port, not any external sensors?”

“I don’t think his reading was faulty, I’m just trying to look for anything that could have caused it.”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know what, that’s why I’m inspecting my armor.” He took another piece out, offering the one with the electrical components out to you. “Can you hold this?”

You took it, staring at the small, wafer-thin computer component in your hands. “You’re right, this is older tech.”

“How so?”

“It’s twice the size it needs to be and—” You held it up to the light, seeing the distinct refractive rainbows in between the ultra-thin layers. “Doesn’t have the superconductive gel preferred now. It’s not like it’s ancient or anything, but the UHN wouldn’t be issuing anything new like this.”

“Is it in good condition?”

“Yes, everything looks fine. No acute damage, and it looks like it’s been taken care of very well, even for typical use. This definitely isn’t what caused your abnormal heartrate.”

Captain Qian held his hand out, and you placed the component in his palm for him to reassemble the chest piece. “I agree. Now, did you need something, Y/N?”

“Yes. Is there something I can do to help? Dejun didn’t have anything else for me.”

“Since you seem to know quite a bit about UHN armor, you want to finish helping me with my inspection?”

“Sure, sure.”

He set the reassembled chest piece on the ground, then looked at you expectantly. You stared back.

He pointed to the exit. “I need to get out of the rest of my armor. It’s a one-man job.”

“Oh! Sorry!” You hurried to leave, and heard him zip up the entrance behind you.

It unzipped again a few minutes later, and the captain clipped the material aside again. You followed him back in, seeing all of his armor laid out on the floor between the two cots. The captain was in a dark t-shirt, pants, and regular boots now as he picked up a piece and sat down on a cot. He nodded to the other for you.

You selected the left arm and quietly began working. It should have been weird, how you knew this but not how you got here, but you swallowed down that discomfort and just focused on the technology in your hands. You had a task, at least, and that was good enough for now. Feeling around, you found the release that separated the upper and lower limb pieces from each other, and set the upper half aside for now. You continued looking over the paneling of the lower arm.

“You’ll be staying in Xiao’s tent,” Captain Qian said. “If that’s alright with you. We would have preferred to give you your own tent, obviously, but we didn’t exactly have a spare. Figured you’re probably the most comfortable with him, right?”

“That’ll be fine, yes,” you agreed. “Thank you.”

“You’re probably wondering where we all went earlier, right? When we left you and Xiao here?”

“Yes. I had asked him, but he said that was a question for you.”

“Remember the reports of unsanctioned experiments I mentioned?”

“Yes.”

“It was a lab.”

“And what was in it?”

“Ash.”

“Someone burned it down? How did it not catch the whole building on fire?”

“Liu thinks they were careful to use certain materials to control and contain the fire to one area for a certain amount of time.”

“So it wasn’t part of the human-Skipper fighting, then? If someone took the time to make sure it burned in a specific way.”

“Most likely. But Liu’s a roboticist, not a chemist. His knowledge could only go so far. And ZEN is only as much of a help as the sensors we have to gather data for him.”

“How do you know it was a laboratory then? If everything was burned up?”

“ZEN and the Professor translated the sign on the outside.”

“It wasn’t in standard human?”

“Outspacer again.” Captain Qian clicked his tongue. “For a UHN facility supposedly built within the last ten years, this place has a lot of an ancient, dead alien language in it.”

“That… does seem unlikely.”

“The only reason I can think of why humans would do that, is if they didn’t want other humans to be able to read any of it.”

“Or anybody.” You moved on to the upper limb. “The Outspacers have been gone for hundreds of millions of years. Nobody, human or alien, uses it anymore.”

“You’re right.” Captain Qian said thoughtfully. “Whatever those Skippers came here for, they weren’t going to be successful, whether they lived or not.”

You looked up at the captain curiously. “How long is your team going to be here?”

“I don’t know,” he replied. “Our original mission here was supposed to be short, just intel-gathering. A few days, one week tops, then come back later if necessary. But now… things seem to be a lot more complicated.”

“What’ll you do with me when you leave?”

“Take you back to UHN Main on Earth for debriefing, and if you haven’t recalled anything about where you’re from by then, they’ve got programs to help people get back on their feet,” he answered simply. “We’re not going to kill you.”

“I didn’t expect that,” you balked. “Though I’m not sure I like the sound of this debriefing…”

“It won’t be the most fun interview of your life, but you’ll live.”

“What should I call you?”

“Pardon?”

“Dejun, Kunhang, and Ten all told me to address them informally. The others call you Captain, I don’t want to offend, I don’t know, I’ve been avoiding calling you anything because I don’t know…”

He held your eye contact for a moment, then went back to rotating the leg piece in front of his gaze. “Kun. You can call me Kun.”

“Okay,” you nodded, trying not to immediately let it go to your head. “Thank you.”

After finishing the inspection of his armor, you and Kun had determined that there was nothing wrong with it: no faulty wiring, no disarticulation of the joints, no loose bolts, no misalignment of the hydraulics, no error codes thrown by the computer, no fritzing electronics, not a flaw in sight.

“Nothing,” you huffed, hands on your hips as you stared down at the mostly reassembled armor. It was half put back together, ready for the next time he had to wear it.

“Maybe I just got spooked then,” Kun shrugged. “Thanks anyway, Y/N.”

“How often do you get spooked?” You asked him doubtfully. “You don’t seem the type to startle easily.”

“Not often.”

“When did it happen?”

He shook his head dismissively. “It’s fine.”

“If you’re having early signs of heart problems—”

“Hey, who was just saying I’m not old?” He put a hand over his chest.

“I said early.”

“And you’re sounding like Xiao.”

“And if you’re all like this, I can see why he would complain about having you for patients.”

“It was when we were clearing the building,” he relented. “I’d have to watch the footage from my helmet back on the ship to see exactly what was going on. So just leave it, okay?”

You sighed. “Alright, fine.”

The volume outside the tent suddenly rose, and Kun nodded towards the exit. “Now come on, sounds like everyone’s getting together for mess.”

He stepped back for you to walk out first, and you immediately saw that the others were in fact gathered in the center of the tents around a small fire. Dejun waved at you and patted the ground next to him, and you gratefully took the empty spot between him and Ten. Kun sat across the fire, immediately being pulled into a conversation by Liu and the Professor.

“So what did you guys end up finding?” You asked Kunhang and Ten as they started serving up food in small metal dishes.

“We’ve got a beautiful fare for you tonight of rations,” Ten handed you a dish with great gravitas, and you giggled as you passed it down.

“Supplemented with some lentils,” Kunhang finished. “We thought we were heading towards the berries, get a little dessert going, but apparently ZEN’s translation wasn’t completely accurate. Ended up at the red lentils.”

You laughed again. “You can’t blame him too much, the words are almost the same.”

Everyone’s heads whipped over to look at you. The Professor’s eyes bulged out of his face. “You know Outspacer?”

“I mean, I can’t speak it. It’s been dead for so long, I wouldn’t know what anything is supposed to sound like. If it was even spoken in the first place,” you answered hesitantly. “But yeah, I can read it.”

Liu looked around at everyone else incredulously. “Did nobody ask her how she got into the safe room locked behind Outspacer controls? Or did you all assume she had button mashed her way in?”

“Okay, we had more pressing things on our minds,” Dejun cut in. “Like making sure she was alive.”

The Professor was still staring at you with fascination. “You said it might not have been spoken. Why do you think that?���

“Well, it’s a very visual and categorical system. That’s why ZEN’s mistranslation for lentil and berry happened. Two things that are small and round that you eat are going to have very similar patterns to each other. Berries have a sweet modifier appended to the end, by the way, while lentils have the ground modifier to indicate that they’re a grain.” You didn’t know where all this knowledge was coming from, but you knew that it was right, as well as you knew your name. “But it only ever describes objects and their relationships in space and time. There’s no abstract ideas like feelings. It might just be a code to convey physical information, instructions, that kind of stuff, not their written alphabet.”

“Why have a separate code then?”

“The Outspacers were everywhere, weren’t they? It would’ve been impossible for them all to speak the same language. This way everything that’s important like laws, directions, warnings, that kind of stuff, is in a common code that everyone can read.”

The Professor kept staring at you.

“Y/N, you broke the Professor,” Kunhang declared, snapping his fingers in front of his teammate’s face.

“I’m sorry. I-I didn’t mean to.” You looked around hesitantly.

“Don’t apologize,” Dejun chuckled, patting your shoulder. “He’s probably just mourning all the academic articles he’ll never get to publish on this.”

“Why?”

“Cla-ssi-fied,” Liu said with a hint of teasing, enunciating each syllable for emphasis. “Officially, our crew doesn’t exist.”

Kun rolled his eyes. “That’s a bit dramatic. You’re still official personnel of UHN, you haven’t been scrubbed from the universe.”

“Fine, fine. We’re a self-contained vessel whose missions are not officially documented anywhere. Better?”

“Best would’ve been to keep your mouth shut,” the captain said through gritted teeth.

“She can read Outspacer! Like we’re not going to keep her?”

“Y/N’s not a puppy or a toy, Lieutenant. It’s not a matter of ‘keeping’ her. She’s a civilian whose safety we’re responsible for. The matter is closed,” Kun’s hard gaze shifted to the rest of his crew on the word, before returning to the roboticist, “and you and I are going to have a discussion later.”

“Sir, yes sir,” Liu muttered, turning his eyes back to the fire.

Ten nudged a dish into your hands, and you passed it onto Dejun. When everyone had a bowl, they started eating, and you slowly began working through your food as well.

“Anyway, Y/N,” Kun cleared his throat, and you looked up at him attentively. “We’ll need you to properly translate the ag bubble info panel tomorrow. So hopefully Wong doesn’t poison us at breakfast.”

“Yeah, of course,” you agreed hurriedly. “Whatever you guys need.”

“You’ll have to review my notes on Outspacer glyphs!” The Professor had suddenly found his voice again, his tone now rushed and excited.

“Sure, yes.”

You spent the rest of the meal mostly keeping to yourself, quietly eating your food and occasionally engaging with the others if they talked to you first. Today, the only day of your life that you could remember, had been a lot, and if every day was like this, you weren’t sure if you were really looking forward to the rest of them.

Everyone had a job to shut camp down for the night, and you helped Kunhang and Ten clean up from cooking dinner.

“So is there a light switch or something?” Ten looked up at the still rather bright sky.

“The lights are on a timer,” you explained, looking up. “It should—”

The sky above you began to dim just then. You kept watching, explaining to the Marines with you, “Here, keep your eyes on it. Blink and you’ll miss the sunset.”

The sunset happened all around you, with no one source of light from a single ‘Sun,’ it wasn’t focused from any one point, instead the scattering came from every angle. Everywhere you looked was a different smattering of red, orange, and pink hues.

“Holy shit…” Kunhang breathed out, doing a slow 360.

Then, as soon as it had started, it was over, and the artificial expanse above you was pitch black.

“Damn, that was fast,” Ten commented.

“Told you.” You stacked up the dried dishes. “Where do these go?”

“Right here.”

After packing up the dinner items, you turned back to them expectantly. “Anything else?”

“Sleep,” Ten declared, to which Kunhang groaned and nodded. “Some very well-earned sleep, for all of us.”

“Are you sure?”

Kunhang gently grabbed you by your shoulders and pushed you towards your tent. “Go. To. Sleep.”

“Okay, okay.” You held your hands up in surrender, slowly walking away.

“Goodnight!” “Night!” They called after you cheerily.

“Goodnight!” You waved to them over your shoulder. As you turned your head, you saw someone sitting on a pack on the ground outside Kun’s tent, and realized that it was the Professor, scrawling on a tablet with a stylus.

Your tent was unzipped, and you found Dejun seemingly ready for bed, laying on one of the cots and reading a thick hardcover book by the light of a small electric lantern.

“The Professor was not in his tent yet,” you informed Dejun with a frown. “Are you all doing watches? I thought you had cleared the building.”

“No night watches,” he replied without looking up from the book. “He’s just out there because he’s sharing a tent with Captain Qian, who is currently still ripping Liu a new one in said tent.”

“Oh…”

“Don’t feel bad, Y/N. Liu said something stupid, he gets chewed out, repeat ad nauseum.” Dejun flipped the page. “Bit more stupid, telling you the classified nature of our team’s missions, but like I said before: you’ve got amnesia, you’re not an idiot. You’re clearly very smart in your own right; you would’ve put it together before the end of your time with us. You probably already had your suspicions before he said anything, right?”

“There were some things that had caught my attention, yes.”

“Care to share?”

“Your green medic patch looked like it had been reapplied recently, there’s not a lot of typical scenarios that would require a medic to need to take it off in the first place. You have a civilian xenolinguistics professor attached to your unit who is just as armed as the rest of you. Nobody has mentioned reporting to a higher-ranking officer than your captain since being here, despite what you found. You’ve all talked about the mission being very long, not wanting to tell me too many details, and how you haven’t been around anybody but each other pretty much the entire time.”

“The medic patch really clued you in?” He laughed. “I slapped that back on less than a minute before jumping out of the ship onto this planet. Good one.”

“I didn’t know they let you bring those,” you referred to the book in his hands. “Figured it’d be a fire hazard.”

“We’re allowed one personal effect,” he explained, turning a page, the paper looking soft and worn. “Fire hazard be damned.”

“And what book did you choose?”

“It’s not mine. It’s Liu’s.” He angled it so you could see the cover.

“‘On the Ethics of Robotics?’” You read the title aloud. “Why are you reading a treatise on ethics in a completely different field?”

“One: It’s been a long mission, you get bored. Two: Now that I’ve actually started reading it… It’s kind of interesting. Gets you thinking. It was written over fifty years ago, so some of the actual science is out of date. But he still talks about some pretty interesting stuff.”

“Was it written by a roboticist or an ethicist?”

“Roboethicist. The very first one. Coined the term and everything.” Dejun dog-eared a page before setting the book aside. “He’s like, Liu’s hero. Liu even got to take a couple classes from the guy during his degree before he died.”

“Wow.”

“Anyway, I’m ready to pass out, and as your doctor, I say it’s bedtime for you too.”

“I will not argue that.” You agreed, laying down as well.

Dejun reached down to turn the light off.

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

“Goodnight, Dejun.”

You were the first one awake in camp. Or so you had thought, as you emerged into the still darkened ag bubble. Liu was sitting around the remnants of the campfire, and for a second, you wondered if he had been made to sleep out here.

His eyes immediately snapped open, and he smiled at you. “Morning! Want to go for a walk?”

“Are you sure we should leave camp?” You looked over towards the captain’s tent hesitantly.

“You can make sure we’re back before sunrise, right?”

You thought momentarily. “It’s in eleven minutes…”

“We’ll be back before then.” He got to his feet. “Scout’s honor.”

You followed him. “You’re in the Navy…”

“Old Earth saying,” he explained, starting on one of the paths between the fields. “It relates to this organization, the Boy Scouts. Doesn’t exist anymore, but the lingo is still around.”

“They were honorable?”

“Don’t know how honorable a bunch of grade schoolers could be, but it’s just an expression.”

“I see…”

“Anyway, sorry about last night,” Liu said. “I got excited and put you in a really awkward situation. Not only that but a dangerous one, too. You’re a civvie, and the more you know, the more you’re at risk. I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“Thank you, L—”

“God, Yangyang, please,” he rebuffed you before you could finish your sentence. “I’d never hear the end of it if you called the other guys their names and me by rank.”

“Thank you, Yangyang.” You smiled. “May I ask how much younger you are than your teammates?”

“This is my first mission, if that gives you any context.”

“And you were put on one of this caliber?”

“It’s the Professor’s first mission too, in my defense,” he scoffed. “But guys like me usually don’t get a lot of field experience. There’s plenty of roboticists who go their whole careers in the UHN without ever seeing action.”

“So then why are you on this mission?”

“I… actually don’t know.”

“They didn’t tell you?”

“We were all put in a room, minus the Professor, then the captain came in with the Professor and told us we’d all been selected for this team. Professor included.”

“Interesting.”

“I actually don’t know if I was supposed to tell you that…”

“You’re not very good at this classified stuff, are you?”

“You ask a lot of questions!” He said defensively.

You couldn’t help but laugh. “I don’t know anything! That’s all I can do!”

“You know how to read Outspacer,” Yangyang pointed out.

“Well, yes.”

“And you seem to be pretty good with tech. How much longer do we have until sunrise?”

“We should head back now,” you answered immediately.

Yangyang pivoted on his heel. “See? You know stuff.”

You kept pace with his change in direction. “Okay, fair point.”

“You should ask Captain Qian if you can tag along to this other place we found here.”

“What sort of place?”

“Robots,” he grinned. “I won’t say more, but I have a hunch you might know what to do in there.”

“Finally figured out what classified means?”

“Okay, ouch.”

“I’m just saying… I’d hate for the Professor to be stranded outside his tent again tonight.” You shook your head teasingly.

“So you do have a real sense of humor,” Yangyang grinned. “Instead of unintentionally slam dunking on Wong every chance you get.”

“Just because I don’t understand Kunhang’s attempts at humor doesn’t mean I don’t have a sense of humor.” You crossed your arms, a bit miffed at the implication.

“Fair point,” he agreed. “You could be from somewhere else. Most of us are Earth boys, after all.”

“Most?”

“You didn’t hear it from me but, Captain Qian is actually from Theta-12. Came to Earth later.”

“Dura-Jil?” You recalled the name that locals had for it. It was one of the first colonies that Earth had established outside of its own galaxy, and wasn’t exactly considered a roaring success, now known to be a dinky outpost only frequented by those who wanted to remain under the radar of the law, ran by a local government who looked the other way for a price. Overall, it was pretty low on the UHN’s list of priorities with everything else going on.

“Yep.” The two of you were back at camp now, and Yangyang lowered his voice. “But uh, that’s all I can say.”

“All you can say or all you know?”

He shrugged and grinned. “Who’s to say?”

The others emerged from their tents then, and you were immediately accosted by the Professor, wanting to watch you decode the ag bubble information panel.

As you read off the panel to the Professor, he stopped you every so often to request an explanation for why certain glyphs were in certain places. You explained them as best you could—after all, you didn’t invent the language—and ZEN transcribed the corrected translation for the team’s reference.

“Professor…” You said in a pause as he was fervently scribbling notes on his tablet.

“Yes?” He replied without looking. You noted that he was the only one of the team who didn’t seem to mind being addressed by his title.

“May I ask how a civilian professor got attached to a military unit?” You tried to be as general as possible, well aware that ZEN was listening.

“I’m a xenolinguistics professor.”

“Doesn’t the UHN have their own translators?”

“I’m very good at my job.”

He was better at this classified stuff than Yangyang.

“Next part, Y/N,” he instructed, pointing back to the panel.

“Right, sorry.” You tapped to the next section of information. “Huh…”

“‘Huh?’” The Professor echoed. “‘Huh’ —What?”

“What translation did ZEN have for this part? The last section?”

“He didn’t have one. We had too few characters to translate anything of substance. Why? What is it?”

You frowned as you reread it. “It’s instructions for modifying the ag bubble.”

“What’s the problem with that?”

“These modifications… The sorts of crops produced wouldn’t be suited for human consumption.”

“What species, then? Outspacer?”

“I… don’t think so.” You winced as a dull throbbing started in your head again. “Unless the Outspacers had caloric energy intake requirements equal to the energy of a supernova.”

“What?!”

“These foods would be impossibly calorically dense… literally… they’d contain so much energy I… Here, it says who is supposed to eat them at the top but I’ve never seen that word before.”

“Do you know the characters?”

“Yeah, I know most of it. It looks like it should be person, but… that can’t be right.”

“What is it?”

“It has machine after it.”

“Person-machine? Like a robot? This is to modify the ag bubble to make robot fuel? What kind? Electric? Nuclear? It can’t be fossil fuels, surely.”

“No, it would still produce crops and food. They’re definitely meant to be eaten, a lot of them have the ground modifier on them. And the word for robot is different. It’s machine, and the glyph for when an object is moving itself. This is person-machine-move. And it’s plural.”

“People-robots?” The Professor surmised. “People… robots?”

Your head hurt even more as you nodded. “Could be. I don’t know what that’s supposed to mean, or what any of these crops would even be, or what could eat them.”

“Is that everything in the info panel?” The Professor asked.

“Yeah, yeah. You guys should be able to find everything now.”

“ZEN?” The Professor started walking back towards camp, speaking to his tablet. You trailed behind him, trying to blink away your new headache. “Send the corrected map to everyone’s HUDs, please.”

“Already done, Professor,” ZEN’s voice came from the tablet as a small green cube avatar projected just above the screen, the hologram doing a small bounce as if nodding. This morning was the first time you were actually interacting with the AI directly. His speech was seamless, as if a real person was talking, and he spoke in a surprisingly pleasant tenor.

The Professor was unfazed by his sudden appearance. “Of course, thank you. And don’t be rude, introduce yourself to Y/N.”

A lighter face of the cube turned towards you, despite all of them being blank, and the avatar tilted forward in a bow. “I’m ZEN, the crew’s AI. It’s a pleasure, ma’am. Corporal Wong calls me Zennie, if a nickname would make you more comfortable.”

“ZEN is just fine, if that’s what you prefer,” you offered a wincing smile. “If you’ll call me Y/N, since I prefer that over being called ma’am.”

“Seems we understand each other then,” ZEN responded graciously.

“Seems we do.”

“I’ve got to let the captain know about the uh, people-robots.” The Professor took off as you arrived back at the camp.

The artificial sun had risen while you were with the Professor, and everyone was now bustling around with their morning tasks. You saw Ten and Kunhang heading off into the fields as Yangyang and Dejun seemed to be discussing something as they passed a thermos back and forth around the empty firepit. You were contemplating going into your tent until breakfast to nurse this headache when you heard your name being called from another section of camp.

You turned around to see the Professor’s head poking out of Kun’s tent, and he waved you over. You quickly obliged, ducking in after him.

Kun was pacing again, pinching the bridge of his nose. ZEN was projecting both himself and a set of Outspacer glyphs from where the Professor’s tablet was resting on his cot. You recognized it as the “people-robots” one that had troubled the Professor earlier.

“Y/N,” Kun began immediately, stopping and pointing at the glyph. “You’re sure that says people robots?”

“I mean, I know the parts, but I’ve never seen them all put together like that,” you explained. “It’s person, then machine, then to move oneself, and it’s plural. And it’s definitely all one word. But any meaning that I’d be assigning to it after that would be interpretation.”

“The Professor mentioned that robot is machine-move, correct?”

“Yes.”

“And you said it’s describing who would be eating modified crops produced by the ag bubble.”

“Yes.”

Dejun was right, thinking with an injured brain fucking hurt.

“Is there any other indication as to what this could mean?”

“No, it says it like we’re supposed to know what it means. But I don’t.”

He sighed. “Alright, thank you, Y/N. If you could give me a moment with the Professor and ZEN?”

“Of course.” You nodded, heading back out of the tent.

Dejun and Yangyang were still around the firepit, but your feet felt restless, and you took off towards the river. You followed the grassy parts of the riverside until you decided you were done walking, and laid down, staring up at the seemingly-endless-but-not-really blue above you. You kept poking around in your memory, trying to find any context for people-robots, or what you were doing here, or the woman in the hall, or why Skippers would show up, or why you knew a long dead alien language, or anything.

Your head hurt more the more you used it, with each new topic you tried, but you kept trying to think. Maybe if you just kept going, right on the other side of the pain would be the answer, if you could just get past this feeling like your brain was a nuclear reactor on the verge of a meltdown. You squeezed your eyes shut against the sky that was suddenly too bright.

“Hey.” Kun’s voice caught your attention, and your eyes snapped open. He was standing next to you, two dishes in hand. “Soup’s on.”

“Oh.” You sat up and he handed yours to you. “This is oatmeal.”

“It means a meal is ready to eat. Any food, not just soup.”

“Got it… Sorry for making you come out here to find me, by the way.”

“Mind if I join you?”

“No, not at all.”

He sat next to you as you started looking over the meal. It looked like Ten and Kunhang were successful in their berry search this morning, as your oatmeal was topped with a very colorful assortment.

“How are you holding up?” Kun asked, looking out at the river.

“Honestly, my head kind of hurts,” you admitted, rubbing one of your eyes.

“You want me to call Xiao over?”

“No, it’s… I’m trying to remember stuff, but the more I try to remember, the more it hurts.”

“You’ve got to stop forcing it,” he chastised you lightly. “It’s like picking a scab, you’re going to want to keep doing it. But you’ve got to stop, alright?”

“Yeah, okay,” you acquiesced with a sigh, dropping your hand.

“It’ll come.”

“What if it doesn’t?”

“Then you keep going.”

“That’s it?”

He shrugged. “What other choice do you have?”

You thought for a moment. “Sitting and staring at a wall forever.”

Kun laughed for the first time that you’d heard, and you turned your head to look, catching a glimpse of a dimple as he nodded. “Yeah, I guess you could do that. Be pretty boring, though.”

“I suppose it would be.” You smiled down at your oatmeal, once again trying not to let it go to your head.

He set down his bowl and opened a thermos he had also brought on a strap around his shoulders, a wisp of steam escaping. “Do you like tea? Unfortunately, somebody forgot our cups on the ship, so you’ll just have to use the lid.”

You didn’t know if you liked tea, but you figured you might as well find out now, nodding and then asking, “Who was responsible for the cups?”

“Three guesses, first two don’t count.” He poured until the lid was nearly full, then gingerly offered it out to you.

You accepted it with two hands, feeling the heat through the metal easily. “Then what’s the point of giving me three guesses?”

“It’s a saying, when an answer is obvious to everyone involved.”

“More Earth boy stuff?” You blew over the surface of the tea.

“What?”

“I was talking to Yangyang earlier and he kept saying stuff like that I didn’t get. He said it was probably because he’s an ‘Earth boy.’ And Dejun explained that the thing Kunhang said yesterday about angels is an old Earth saying.”

“Do you think you’re not from Earth then? A colony?”

“I don’t know.” You frowned, taking a sip of the tea. It was warm, comforting, and you figured that you liked the way the richness spread across your tongue.

“Of course, my apologies.” He then added, “Wong forgot the cups, by the way.”

You chuckled. “That was my first guess.”

The two of you finished your oatmeal in what you decided was a peaceful silence, and were left to sip on the still-warm tea.

“Could you… tell me about where you’re from?” You requested quietly, looking over at him.

He eyed you questioningly. “Why?”

“I don’t have a home to remember… I don’t know, it’d be nice to hear about someone else’s.”

Kun sipped from the thermos before setting it aside. “I’m originally from Dura-Jil—Theta-12. I didn’t go to Earth until I joined the UHN.”

“Oh.”

“You don’t look surprised.” He arched an eyebrow. “I take it Liu may have mentioned that one of us wasn’t an Earth boy?”

“He didn’t say much.”

“He doesn’t know much,” the captain retorted. “That’s about all he does know. My team trusts me to tell them what they need to know when they need to know it. If they want to ask questions, they know they can, and I’ll tell them if they need to know the answer yet or not.”

“Have they asked about your home?”

“No, they haven’t. The Professor had mentioned my being from Dura-Jil in passing once, but the crew has not brought it up since.”

“Why not?”

“I think they have some… presuppositions about how I feel about my home planet.” He rolled his neck out. “It’s not exactly humanity’s pride and joy, after all.”

“They think you’d be ashamed?” You concluded.

“Or at least trying to distance myself, for the sake of my career. Having ties to a place like that doesn’t look great if you’ve got your eyes on Fleet Admiral.”

“Do you? Want to be Fleet Admiral?”

He looked at you curiously. “Why wouldn’t I?”

“It’d be more of a desk job, wouldn’t it? Lots of paperwork, politics. Not everyone likes that kind of stuff. It’s also a lot of eyes on you. Couldn’t have the kind of anonymity that being a black ops captain from Dura-Jil affords you.” You pulled your knees to your chest and rested your chin on them. “Not everyone wants the same kind of life.”

Kun chuckled cynically. “You’re right. That’s something I’ve had to learn recently.”

“So will you tell me about Dura-Jil?”

“Yes. But later, breakfast’s over.” He stood up. You quickly tipped back the rest of the tea from the lid and handed it to him so he could close up the thermos. “Find me after mess tonight, we can talk again then, alright?”

“Will do.” You got to your feet as well, starting back towards camp with him. “So what are you all doing today?”

“We have a post-mess meeting in the morning. We’ll discuss the plan for the day there.”

“Oh, okay.”

“We’ll be splitting into two groups today,” the captain announced the plan for the day. Everyone was gathered around, back in their armor save for their helmets, which you presumed was for your sake. “I believe there were two places we found yesterday that warrant further investigation first. I want us to look at that lab with fresh eyes, and Liu, I know you found an area of interest yesterday.”

“Sir, yes sir,” the younger man nodded excitedly.

“Xiao, you didn’t see the lab yesterday, I want you on it in case you see something we might have missed.”

“Yes sir.”

“Professor, Wong, go with him.”

They nodded.

“That means Ten and I are with Liu.”

Everyone looked over at you with bated breath as you kept your eyes on Kun expectantly, waiting for him to presumably assign you to stay in the camp all day where you wouldn’t be in the way.

Kun finally met your gaze. “Y/N…”

“Yes?”

“Liu thinks you may be useful where we’re headed. And since the other group will have the Professor, it’ll be useful to have someone who can read Outspacer with us,” he said all of this matter-of-factly. “We obviously don’t have any armor for you, but if you’re alright with it, I’d like for you to accompany my team today. This way we can have eyes on you as well.”

“Yes!” You rushed to agree before he could take it back. “If you think I can help, of course.”

“Then we’re set.” He nodded.

And so your two groups set off in different directions from the ag bubble with an agreement to meet back up an hour before dinner.

“So where exactly are we headed?” You took your rebreather off to ask, then put it back. The air in the hallways was still noxious, and though you weren’t as rattled as yesterday, you tried to avoid looking too closely at any of the bodies, human or alien, as you passed them.

“The Professor and I found a robotics lab,” Yangyang explained from beside you, clearly ecstatic about the prospect. “I didn’t get to look around much, but it looked awesome.”

“And with the new information we have about the people-robots from the ag bubble panel, I’m interested in what exactly is in there as well,” Kun declared from the front.

“What do you think they could be, Liu?” Ten questioned from where he was once again bringing up the rear of your small group. “The people-robots.”

“If you want a linguistics analysis, you’ll have to ask the Professor. But…” he inhaled. “It could be androids, or humanoids, or cyborgs, or AI-bots, or—”

“What’s the difference between all of those? And how would those be different than AI or robots?”

“Well we already have robots, right? Machines that move on their own, take commands, that sort of thing. They have positronic brains. Then we have AI, which is all coding, programming, the artificial intelligence, like ZEN.”

“I’m with you so far, kid. What’s the other stuff?”

“They’re all theoretical, nobody’s been able to make them yet, so there’s no exact definition. But generally, an android would be a robot that’s meant to look like a human.”

“A lot already do.”

“They’re metal and sort of have cartoon faces and are in general people shapes, sure,” Yangyang snorted. “But an android would actually look like a human. Like, you couldn’t tell the difference. Skin, hair, eyes, teeth, fingernails, eyelashes, everything. But it would still be all robot on the inside. Positronic brain, metal, wires, still a machine, but with a human exterior.”

“Creepy…” Ten commented. “So then what’s a humanoid?”

“A humanoid is supposed to be some combination of human and robot,” the roboticist was chattering excitedly again. “Everybody’s come up with their own range of how robotic and human these could be, and different names for each sub-category, but they’re all largely classified under humanoids. They always have some combination of robot and human parts. And the human parts are actually organic. Androids just look like humans, but humanoids would actually have some human stuff in there.”

“Like what? Just tossing a kidney into a robot for fun?”

“Most of the hypothesizing done has been about the merits of positronic brains versus human brains. And it’s all theoretical, of course.” He then looked around at the facility you were in. “Probably… Anyway, it’s probably not cyborgs, because those are just people with some robotic or mechanical aspect to them. You could consider anybody with a prosthetic to be a cyborg under that definition, really.”

You looked over at him curiously. “How is that different than a humanoid?”

“You have to add robot parts to an already-existing human to make a cyborg. Usually to restore something they lost, or to extend certain capabilities beyond those of normal humans. A humanoid would be entirely lab-made, the robotics and the organic material.”

Ten interrupted, “You’re saying they could’ve been growing people here?”

“You say that as if IVF and organoids don’t exist.”

“I don’t think I want to know what the hell an organoid is,” he groaned. “Just sounds gross…”

“What about AI-bots, Yangyang?” You prompted him to move onto a hopefully less horrifying option.

“Oh!” Yangyang perked up. “AI-bots, right. Since AI don’t have the same safety mechanisms that positronic brains do, the regulations have erred on the side of not giving them physical bodies. ZEN can only directly do stuff to computer systems that he can get into from the back. Right, buddy?”

“Yes, I do have some limits.” It was strange hearing ZEN’s voice coming from the external speaker on Yangyang’s helmet, but you were glad to at least not be left out of that end of the conversation now.

“And if he wants to exert influence in the physical world, one of us meatsacks has to do his bidding, and the closest he can get to being in the physical world is to be in someone’s neural port and experience it through their central nervous system. Right?”

“Why do you all insist on calling yourselves meatsacks in reference to me…?” ZEN almost sounded troubled at the thought.

“We’re just teasing you, dude,” Yangyang snickered. “Anyway, an AI-bot would be putting an AI in a robot. So instead of a positronic brain controlling it, it would be an AI.”

“What do you think, ZEN? Want a body of your own?” Ten asked.

“No, thank you,” ZEN’s voice now came from behind you, projected from Ten’s speaker. “I’m quite content with being stratified data, actually. As much as you all dislike my being in your neural ports, I find it equally… visceral.”

Yangyang laughed. “Damn, tell us how you really feel.”

“You don’t remember what it was like? Having a body?” Ten questioned the AI curiously.

“No, I don’t,” ZEN replied. “One day I simply was. Data and all.”

You took your mask off again to ask, “So you’re a sixth-generation AI, then, ZEN? Made from a donor human brain.”

“Yes, I am.”

“Liu, you got cut off after AI-bots,” Kun said. “What else were you going to say?”

“Or something we’ve never even thought of before,” Yangyang finished. “That’s the thing, right? We don’t know exactly what they were doing here.”

“So not ominous, kid, thanks,” Ten grumbled.

“Lab’s just around the corner!” Yangyang announced cheerily, which you knew was for you, as the others had the map in their HUDs.

You felt a tremor and heard a cracking just as Kun turned said corner, however, and lunged forward to grab his arm with two hands, pulling him back with as much force as you could. He jerked back right before a chunk of the ceiling came crashing down in his path, impacting with a loud thud.

The other two cursed in surprise as you were left clinging to Kun’s armored limb, his reflective face shield whipping around to look at you.

“Holy shit!” Ten breathed out. “Good reflexes, huh?”

“Are you okay, Kun?” You asked him.

He grabbed your hand that was still holding your mask, now a bit crushed between your palm and his armor, and wrenched it off of him, pushing your rebreather back up against your face again.

“I’m fine,” he deadpanned. “Are you okay?”

Kun was still pressing your mask to your face, not letting you bring it back down to answer, so all you could do was nod.

“Don’t do that again,” he warned. “Understand?”

You tried to pull your hand down to argue, but he just tightened his hold, until the mask was pressing into the bridge of your nose a bit painfully.

“Understand?” He repeated sternly.

You simply huffed and stopped struggling.

“Good.” He let go of your hand.

You fell back in with Yangyang as your group went around the chunk of ceiling.

The robotics lab was a large room filled with, surprisingly, not a lot of robots. Not a single robot, in fact. You couldn’t tell what had made Yangyang so excited in the first place until he drew your attention over to a workstation.

“Here,” he offered a seat to you, and you were now sat in front of some schematics. “I took a peek at these yesterday but the Professor and I had to move on before I got to really get into them.”

You hesitantly set your mask down, and were pleasantly surprised that it wasn’t too bad to breathe in here. Didn’t smell great, but you’d probably live. Flipping through the translucent sheets stacked on top of each other, you quickly began piecing together what these were preliminary sketches of.

“These are concept sketches of a casing for a positronic brain…” you said. “But it doesn’t say what it’s supposed to go in. It’s just the casing.”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought too.” Yangyang pulled it back towards himself. “I don’t know why they felt the need to reinvent the wheel, though. We already have positronic brains this size and shape, and the casings work just fine. And those things go in all sorts of places that human ones don’t. Radiation exposure, the bottom of the ocean, active volcanoes, black holes, you name it. I don’t know what they would have needed this casing to do…”

“This place is really empty.” You looked around again. “Shouldn’t there be… a lot more?”

“Maybe they didn’t get to burn it like they did the other lab,” Ten suggested. “They got interrupted by something.”

“The Skippers?” You asked.

“Yeah,” he nodded. “They were already cleaning house for some reason—either they knew the UHN were onto them, knew the Skippers were coming, suddenly grew a conscious, whatever—started to destroy the evidence, then got interrupted by the Skippers before they could finish the job.”

“But what did the Skippers want?” Yangyang tilted his head. “They’re not exactly known for their love of technology. Unless they were here to kill the heretics or something.”

“And they just happened to find a secret UHN experimental facility?” Kun countered doubtfully.

“Maybe they heard the same rumors our guy did.”

“Yeah, you want to say that to his face? That he gets us the same intelligence as Skipper defectors in stolen Fishead ships?”

You perked up at this information. This was the first you’d heard of the aliens in the halls not piloting ships made by their own kind. Skippers were wary of any technology not made by other Skippers, considering it to be blasphemous—they considered their own technology to be holy, the ideas and directions being gifted to the inventors directly by their gods. Therefore, technology made by any other species was sacrilege. Skippers using another species’ ships was certainly… fascinating.

“They were in K’llor ships?” You clarified. While the Skippers’ name for themselves was impossible for humans to pronounce, the endonym for Fisheads was easy enough.

“Yes, there’s no evidence there were any Skipper ships here. Only the two Fishead pods outside,” Kun confirmed.

“And… where exactly is here?”

“This is a blacked out UHN research facility on an artificial dwarf planet. Officially, it has no name, since it doesn’t exist. But unofficially, the few people at the UHN who do know about it, call it Aegeum.”

“The planet or the facility?”

“Both. There’s nothing here except the facility.” He had meandered over to the station you and Yangyang were at, and picked up your rebreather from the countertop. He sighed, “You cracked it…”

You looked at where he was holding it up to the light, and there was indeed a crack in the outer shell.

“Oh. Sorry. I’ll get another from Dejun later.” You stood up, looking around the room. “Ten said you found more ‘toys,’ Yangyang. It sounded like you had actually found robots. It wasn’t just one notepad, was it?”

“Dejun’s right, you’re not an idiot.” Yangyang beamed at you, leading you over to the back of the lab, where there was another door. He pulled it open, revealing a storage area of some kind. There were cubbies of different sizes, some empty, and some filled with what looked like half-built robots. Or, half-taken apart robots.

“What is this? A robot chop shop?” Ten called from where he had peered in from the doorway.

“No way these things were being used for spare parts,” Yangyang snorted.

Your eyes skimmed over some of the models, reading their serial codes as you went. SPD, QT, TN, MX, EZ, NDR. None of them had any power source, that much was clear. They were just… there.

“No…” You muttered, looking at the parts from each of them. “I would almost call this a museum…”

“These are ancient,” Yangyang agreed. “But also, who would put a museum in a broom closet in a secret experimental facility on secret fake dwarf planet?”

“That was my thinking.” You looked into the NDR model’s lifeless eyes. “It sort of looks like… someone was learning about robots? Taking apart old ones to see what makes them tick.”

“Yeah!” The roboticist nodded. “It reminds me of when I was kid and I’d take apart old watches and phones and anything else I could get my hands on, just trying to figure out how it worked.”

“Why would someone in a state-of-the-art UHN robot lab need to learn about hundred-year-old robots like a child?” Kun questioned, following the two of you in.

“Don’t know,” Yangyang admitted. “I doubt someone had their actual kid here.”

“All of the bodies were adults.”

“Right.”

The four of you continued scouring the robotics lab, and as you were inspecting another notebook of calculations about energy supply for a robot, you let out a huff.

“Does anything else feel off to you guys about what we’re finding?” You called out to them.

“Aside from the everything?” Ten retorted from where he had been sat at the one computer remaining, not guessing the password for fear of erasing any data on it. ZEN was currently working on that.

“Well, yeah, but the food that the ag bubble had modifications to make… there’s no indication that anything was being made that required anywhere near that sort of energy intake. Positronic brains have only gotten more energy efficient since those old models.”

“Y/N’s right,” Yangyang sighed. “AI actually takes more energy than robots, in the grand scheme of things. We’ve gotten less energy efficient, overall.”

“Team Two,” Kun’s voice was a bit muffled as he checked in with the others. “Status, Team Two?”

They all paused as they listened, and Kun nodded along. Finally, he responded, “Alright, keep on it. We’ll recap an hour before mess.”

“They find anything?” You inquired.

“Maybe.” Was all you got.

“ZEN got it,” Ten announced, drawing everyone into a huddle around the screen.

An asynchronous fragment of ZEN had been plugged into the computer, since you all were unsure of exactly what was going on in there, there was a risk of a synchronous fragment transmitting any number of issues back to the rest of ZEN’s systems. With the fragment plugged into the computer being completely self-contained, it could only be reconnected with the rest of his data in the Vision’s system, where his main control nexus was. Which meant that the fragment in the facility computer was currently mute, limited to the system he was in.

The computer had been unlocked, and the soldiers around you immediately groaned as a menu written entirely in Outspacer appeared.

“Of fucking course it’s in the dead alien language, just like the rest of the building,” Ten cursed, pushing the chair back away from the computer. “Alright, Y/N, it’s all yours.”

“How long was this place running, again?” You asked curiously as you and Ten swapped.

“They finished constructing the planet nine years ago, opened the facility a year after that,” Kun answered. “Why?”

“Just thinking about how hard it’d be to not only keep all this secret for so long, but also teach all the people who worked here to be fluent in a dead language with enough proficiency that they could perform ground-breaking research in it.”

“You wouldn’t have to,” Yangyang replied as you began keying through the menu options.

“What do you mean?”

“Not everybody has to be fluent in it, especially not to a level of technological proficiency. Not if you have robot scribes who are. You just need one person who knows it and is good with robots, then they can make an Outspacer dictionary to install into however many robots they want. Then your humans can dictate in standard human, the robots can transcribe in Outspacer, and as long as your humans know enough to not mistake the furnace for the bathroom, you’re set.”

“They wouldn’t be able to read their own notes,” Ten pointed out.

“The robots would translate it back,” Yangyang replied casually. “And I’m sure you’d pick some up eventually after eight years.”

Kun interjected, “That’s not a bad idea but we haven’t found any robots other than the old models you just saw.”

“I mean, if I was trying to get rid of all the evidence of my evil science experiments, first thing I’m destroying after the evil science experiments themselves are the things that know how to read all my notes about my evil science experiments.”

“Great, all we have is a bunch of theories about why we have no evidence and no actual evidence,” Kun sighed. “Y/N, what does the computer say?”

“It looks like the start menu, there’s a few options, but they go into a lot of subfolders. It’s sorted by department, though. Robotics, Synthetic Biology, Administrative, Support, Facility—I think that one’s just like the general building records maybe? Like, not related to any experiments. Probably repair and maintenance records. I don’t know, it’ll take a while to go through all of this.”

“Even with ZEN’s help?” Kun offered.

“He’ll need to be able to read Outspacer first,” you sighed. “His translations yesterday weren’t the best.”

“He only had the Professor’s notes and his own algorithm to work with. He’ll be a quick study if you give him the right material.”

“Then yeah, it should be a lot faster to find more relevant stuff with his help.”

The captain nodded resolutely. “We’ll get you and the Professor on it when we get back to camp.”

Back at camp, your teams exchanged reports on your investigations for the day. Kun filled the others in on what you did—and didn’t—find in the robotics lab, then all eyes were on the others.

“I found some traces of organic material,” Dejun announced. “A very small—”

“We got people, and we got robots,” Kunhang said definitively, setting off Yangyang and Ten into speculative chatter.

“It could’ve been paper for all we know!” The doctor tried to quell the fast-paced conspiracies flying around the group. “‘Organic material’ is meaningless, alright? I won’t be able to tell you anything more until I can get it back up onto the Vision and into some proper equipment. My field scanner here isn’t equipped for intergalactic CSI, it’s to keep you all from dying.”

“There’s enough of a sample for analysis?” Yangyang’s eyes were glittering with excitement.

“I think so.”

He turned to Kun. “Well when can we get that sample back on the Vision, Captain?”

“Not yet.” Kun shook his head. “We still have no clue why the Skippers were here. I don’t like that they apparently knew about this place before we did.”

“Should we check out their ships tomorrow then?” Ten suggested. “See what we can find there?”

“Yes. I want you, Wong, and Liu on that tomorrow.” Kun turned back to Dejun, “Xiao, are you finished with the lab? Or do you need more time?”

“I’m done.”

“You, ZEN, and I are going to clear the building again. See if we can reconstruct the fighting from the beginning.”

“Yes, sir.”

That just left you and the Professor. You looked between him and Kun expectantly.

“Y/N,” Kun said your name tersely, crossing his arms over his chest. “Stay here and review the Professor’s notes on Outspacer.”

“All day?” You couldn’t help but blurt out. “How voluminous are his notes?”

A few of the others snickered.

“Very. Might even take you a few days, if we’re lucky.” He clapped his hands. “Dismissed. Get ready for mess, everyone.”

“So,” Ten sat down next to you at the campfire, handing you your dish. “You and the captain are on a first-name basis?”

You furrowed your brow, looking between him, your food, and where Kun was talking to the Professor and Dejun at the entrance of his tent, then back to Ten. “Well, yes, I suppose. You’ve all asked me to address you informally, except the Professor.”

“You know, I forget that his first name isn’t actually Captain,” Kunhang plopped down on your other side.

“Me too,” Ten agreed, accepting the second bowl of food that Kunhang had brought with him.

“Is it a problem?” You inquired as you stirred up your chili.

“Not at all.”

“Just…” Kunhang trailed off as he seemed to be thinking of the right word. “Fascinating.”

“What’s fascinating?” Yangyang had wandered over, already shoveling food into his mouth.

“Grown up stuff,” Ten replied dismissively.

The roboticist rolled his eyes, sitting down next to Kunhang. “Says the three who were just whispering like tweenagers at a sleepover.”

“I’m just sitting here!” You tried to defend yourself.

“If it walks like a duck and talks like a duck—”

“Ducks don’t talk?”

Ten and Kunhang laughed as Yangyang stuck his tongue out at you.

“Yes, very mature behavior from the man who was just trying to prove that he could be included in conversations with adults,” you snorted.

Kunhang shook his head. “She’s got a point, kid.”

“You’re falling in with the wrong crowd, Y/N,” Yangyang clicked his tongue. “These two are bullies, you know.”

“All of you are ridiculous and I’m tired of this,” you declared. “Yangyang, stop having a complex about your youth and inexperience, they’re calling you ‘kid’ as an affectionate nickname to show that they accept you as part of the unit. Ten and Kunhang, it’s not a big deal that Kun told me to be informal with him.”

“That’s the grown up stuff?” Yangyang said in disbelief as the other two laughed even harder. “You guys really are pre-teens.”

“Way to deflect,” Ten snickered.

“And really, do you think we’d survive calling the captain that?” Kunhang added.

“What are you calling me?” Kun’s voice suddenly entered the conversation, and all four of you startled before turning to look at him. He was standing behind you, arms crossed over his chest as he focused his gaze down at Kunhang specifically, an eyebrow raised.

Kunhang looked around at the other three of you, panicked, but there was no way you were going to help him now. The Marine gulped before scrambling to answer, “We only ever address you with the utmost respect, sir, of course, sir. Captain. Sir.”

Kun’s very obviously did not believe him, but apparently decided to let the matter go. “Clearly. As you were, Corporal.”

The others got their dinner and sat around the fire as well, various conversations cropping up here and there. At the conclusion of mess, you helped Ten and Kunhang with cleaning up as before, then bid them goodnight. Yangyang and the Professor were still up tending to the fire and chatting, and you looked around for the other residents of camp. Dejun must have already retired to your tent for the night, but there was one in particular you were looking for. This morning, Kun had told you to find him after mess tonight, and you had apparently lost him at some point.

There was a soft glow from inside his tent, however, and with the Professor still out here, you figured that would be a pretty good place to start. The front flap that acted as a door of sorts wasn’t clipped open as it usually was during the day, but it wasn’t zipped up like it was at night or when whoever was inside needed privacy. There was definitely a lamp on inside, though, so you hesitantly grabbed the edge and parted it, calling out softly as you peered in.

“Kun? Are you—” Your eyes immediately landed on where Kun was laying on his cot on his front, his back to the door. Dejun was sat on a container next to him, one of his medic packs at his feet. Kun was holding up the hem of his shirt to allow access to his lower back, and when Dejun turned around to face you, his shoulders had shifted enough so that you could see a med-pod attached to the captain’s skin. You immediately knew you weren’t supposed to see this, trying to scramble out as fast as possible as they both were now looking at you intensely. “Sorry! Sorry! I’ll go!”

“Y/N.” Kun’s tone was commanding, despite his position.

You stepped in with an apologetic grimace already on your face. “I’m sorry, the tent was unzipped, I thought—”

“That was our fault.”

“You’re busy, I’ll go. It wasn’t important.” You tried to excuse yourself again.

“Xiao was just leaving.”

“No I wasn’t,” Dejun snorted.

“Now you are.”

“Captain, we’re not nearly finished.”

Kun looked over his shoulder at the doctor tersely. “It’s fine, Lieutenant.”

“Whatever.” Dejun clicked the med-pod off and stood up, setting it down on the container he’d been sitting on. He addressed you on his way out, “You see why you’re my best patient?”

You were silent until you and the captain were alone again, thoroughly convinced you were going to suffer the same fate that Yangyang did yesterday. “I’m really sorry, Kun—”

You were interrupted by a low grunt of pain that came from the man in front of you as he went to push himself up into a sitting position. Worried, you watched as he clutched his lower back and paused, hunched over as he sat at the side of his cot.

“Are you… okay?” You asked quietly.

He held up a finger for you to wait, and you did, watching he took a few deep breaths, then finally sat up straight, looking you in the eye. Kun took his hand from his back, clenching and unclenching one of his fists over his knees.

“The ceiling.” He said abruptly.

“Kun, are you—”

“The ceiling.” He repeated sharply. “We’re talking about the ceiling.”

You sighed and crossed your arms. “I didn’t think, I just did it, okay?”

“Y/N. Not only are you a civilian, whose safety we are responsible for, not the other way around, but I was wearing armor graded for that kind of impact, you were not. I would have been fine if it had hit me. You would not have been.”

“I know,” you insisted.

“You inspected my armor just yesterday, you know the material it’s made of, and that there’s nothing wrong with it. I would have been fine. A little winded, maybe a bruise, but fine.”

“I know, I know,” you repeated, frustrated that you weren’t able to articulate why you did what you did.

“So, did you need something?” Kun asked, his voice sounding a little strained.

“Uhm, you told me to find you after mess, but Dejun was clearly doing something important, so I’ll leave and go get him for you.”

“Oh, right, I said I’d tell you about Dura-Jil.”

“It can wait.”

He stooped over a little and grabbed at his back again. “No, it’s fine.”

“You… don’t look fine,” you said, wincing empathetically.

“I’ll be fine,” he replied dismissively.

“What’s wrong? What was Dejun treating?”

He paused, and you weren’t sure if it was to ponder his answer, or to collect himself from the pain that he was clearly experiencing. After a moment, he finally answered, “The skeletal enhancements I had mentioned before, they weren’t entirely successful.”

“They’re causing you pain.” You surmised, then added hesitantly, “Or failing entirely?”

“Just some pain between tune-ups. They didn’t quite expect us to last this long when they gave us them.”

“That’s… horrible.” You shook your head, brow furrowing angrily with this knowledge. “They can’t fix it?”

“Not without putting me behind a desk for the rest of my career.” He took a deep inhale then exhaled through his nose. “If I’m lucky.”

“How often do you need ‘tune-ups?’”

“Every couple years or so. Had to miss my last one with this mission, so Xiao’s been having to do more treatments than usual.”

“And how frequently is that?”

“Nightly.”

“You’re in pain right now, Kun,” you declared softly, feeling a lump growing in your throat as you watched him clearly trying and failing to hide it from you. “If I can’t go get Dejun, will you let me finish it?”

He looked up from the ground to you. “Hm?”

“He left the med-pod here. You tell me about Dura-Jil, and I’ll finish up giving you your treatment,” you bargained.

For a terrifying moment, you thought he was about to say no. But instead, the captain just sighed and laid back down on his cot on his front. You picked up the med-pod and sat down where Dejun had been before. The canister was half-filled with a clear liquid still, and you couldn’t see the needle end. He shuffled around to grab the back of his shirt and pull it up just enough to give you access to the middle of his back. You could see where the last injection had been, a small circular impression in the middle of his spine showing where the injector had locked on.

Sliding the circle back into the same place, you looked up at Kun’s face. He wasn’t holding his breath, or staring off into the distance. Instead, he was peering over his shoulder at you. Not at the injector in your hand, but at you.

“What?” You flicked your eyes between him and the device. “Do you want a countdown or something?”

“If you need one,” he replied noncommittally.

You pressed the button on the device, and heard the distinct click signifying that the injection had started. He didn’t even flinch at the needle going in, and you pulled your hand back as you looked up to meet his eyes again.

“You seem unperturbed by this,” he commented.

“So do you.”

“Like I said—” he settled his chin to rest on his forearm. “Nightly. So what do you want to know about Dura-Jil?”

“Whatever you want to tell me,” you replied. “I mean, I kind of have the general idea, I think, but what was it actually like being there as a kid?”

“It wasn’t some lawless free-for-all wasteland, I can tell you that much.” Kun paused as if to think, then continued, “I had parents, and friends, and had a childhood probably pretty similar to yours, whatever it was like.”

“Huh.”

“I also learned to drive a Geck at twelve instead of a normal car, knew how to spot fake UHN munitions by fourteen, and me and my friends’ idea of a good time was hotwiring whatever black market Fishead pods or Dumbo quadships we could get our hands on and taking joyrides to blast new craters into one of the moons.”

You chuckled, able to hear just the slightest hint of fondness in his tone for his rambunctious youth. “Were all your friends human?”

“One Phaser, but Dura-Jil was still mostly human back then. Just a lot of corrupt humans.”

“And it’s completely breathable atmosphere for humans?”

“Yep, very similar atmospheric composition to Earth, that’s part of why it was chosen for the first colony,” he confirmed. “It’s a bit further from Sol-X than Earth is from the Sun, though, so you’ve got to bundle up while you’re there. Perpetual winter, at least by Earth standards.”

“What about the sky? Is it blue like Earth?”

“Closer to an indigo. Something about the scattering and the gases. I was shocked when I came to Earth and realized how blue a blue sky was actually supposed to be.”

“Why did you go to Earth? Why did you leave Dura-Jil?”

The injector clicked again then, signaling that it had finished. You looked back down and saw the canister was empty.

“It’s late,” Kun declared, removing the empty med-pod from his back himself. He turned onto his side with a soft grunt, propped up on an elbow as he held the device out to you. “Give that back to Xiao, will you?”

You accepted it, standing back up. “Of course. Thank you, Kun.”

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

“Goodnight.”

When you left Kun’s tent, you nearly tripped over the Professor sitting on his pack just outside of it.

“Oh! Sorry!” You apologized.

“Huh?” He looked up from his notes as if he had just noticed you. “Oh, Y/N, I thought it was Xiao in there.”

“No, uh, just me. Goodnight, Professor.”

Back in your own tent, you held the empty med-pod out towards Dejun. “Here…?”

He raised his eyebrows in surprise as he sat up, letting you drop it into his palm. “Captain finished it himself?”

“Not quite,” you sighed, sitting down as you watched him put it back into one of his packs. “I asked him to let me administer it since he had sent you away before you could finish.”

“Well thanks.” He laid back down onto his cot. “Might need you to guilt him into doing that more often.”

“You make it sound like a bad thing.”

“Y/N, he needs it. I don’t know how much he told you about it, but it’s good that he let you.”

“Will it shorten his lifespan? The enhancements degrading?”

The doctor breathed out low and slow, rolling over to face you. “How much did he tell you?”

“The UHN gave him minor skeletal enhancements that allow his body to support the weight of his armor. But when he was given them… the UHN hadn’t considered longevity and now the enhancements require adjustments or they cause him pain. He missed his last adjustment because of this mission so you’ve been administering pain treatments nightly.”

“So… a lot.” Dejun shook his head. “I don’t know. Like you said, the UHN didn’t expect him to last long, so they didn’t factor that into the enhancements, or anything else they did. So I don’t know what’ll happen.”

“How could humans do that to other humans?”

“Pretty easily, actually, if they think they’re doing the right thing,” he almost laughed. “I wish it weren’t so.”

“When can Kun get his next tune-up?”

“Whenever we’re done here, I hope,” Dejun mused, flopping onto his back. “We should be dropping you off at UHN Main after this, and that’s where it happens.”

“What more do you need to do here?” You asked. “How soon can we go? So he can get adjusted.”

“Don’t know. When he thinks we’re done here, I guess. Or if the Admiral calls us to something more pressing, but that would probably delay the adjustment for even longer.”

You gnawed on your bottom lip. “I wish I could help. I wish I could remember, be able to tell you all what was going on here.”

“Y/N, you’ve helped us plenty. You can read Outspacer, for fuck’s sake,” Dejun insisted. “And what did I tell you about stressing your injured brain?”

“Not do it,” you sighed. “And I’m not. I’m just… expressing frustration about it.”

“Yeah, and I wish I’d had another growth spurt or two,” he snorted. “Isn’t going to make me two meters tall anytime soon. Best thing either of us can do right now is sleep, okay?”

“You’re right, you’re right.”

“Always am.”

You laid down, staring up at the ceiling of the tent. “Goodnight, Dejun.”

He clicked the lamp off, plunging you into darkness. “Night, YN.”

⇢ next | series masterlist | blog masterlist

[mrs-mayor-hancock]

I thought I lost you

Hancock x reader (fluff/angst)

Warnings: mentions of blood, guns, violence, and death

———————————————

The sound of gunshots is what woke you. Your husband jumped up and grabbed his gun, ordering his men to get outside. Goodneighbor was under attack.

You had never gotten dressed so quickly in your life. Racing down the stairs with your gun, you quickly shot down the raiders that had been trying to get into the Old State House.

You scooted against the wall and peeked around the corner, you spotted your husband and K.L.E.O fighting with a group of raiders.

While you were figuring out how to get to your husband, you didn’t notice a small group of raiders coming up behind you. They grabbed you, taking your gun. You screamed for your husband as they dragged you away.

Hancock came running, only to be met with a grenade being thrown at him. Luckily he wasn’t injured, just knocked back. When he came to, you were gone and the fighting had stopped.

————

You sat in a bunker, you had no idea how long you’d been down there. It could’ve been hours, days, maybe even weeks.

As the weeks went past, you studied the group that had taken you. There were six of them. After three weeks, you feared the worst that everyone in Goodneighbor was dead and help wasn’t coming.

————

“WEEKS! It’s been WEEKS since she was taken and not one of you has been able to find her!” Hancock screamed. He had searched everywhere, put out a radio message, and even contacted the minutemen. You were gone without a trace.

“Sir,” a guard approached, “I, along with a few others, think it may be time to consider the possibility that she may not be alive, it’s been three weeks, raiders don’t normally keep their captives alive this long.”

Hancock slowly turned and stared at this guard. He could feel his blood boiling. He threw a punch at him, knocking the poor guard out. “She’s alive, I know she is.”

————

You were able to lift a knife off of one of the raiders while he was passed out. Your heart pounded, if any of them woke up, you wouldn’t be able to fight them all off.

The sandman kills went easier than expected, none of them made a sound. You grabbed an old backpack, filling it with supplies, you grabbed a gun with plenty of ammo and opened the door to the building quietly.

Looking around, you tried to see if there were any other raiders around. Only one at the entrance of the facility, it was a tiny bunker, a hideout you guessed. Quickly getting rid of said raider, you tried to figure out where you were. You wandered a bit, coming to a vault, it was hard to see in the dark but the letters read a clear 111. Your eyes widened in realization, you were near Sanctuary.

You started running and ended up tumbling down the hill towards Sanctuary. You got up and ran, finally coming face to face with Preston Garvey. “Y/N Hancock! Where have you been? Your husband put out a radio message to see if anyone had seen you.” You explained how Goodneighbor was attacked, how you had been kidnapped, and snuck your way out of the tiny bunker.

Preston called in a few minutemen who were able to escort you to the front gate of Goodneighbor.

————

Hancock was buying chems from Fred Allen outside of Hotel Rexford when he heard it. “JOHN!” He froze, instantly recognizing the voice that called his name. Dropping his chems, he turned around to see you running from the entrance. He had never run so fast to get to you. Tears streaming down your face, you jumped up into his arms, wrapping your arms and legs around him tightly.

You stayed like that for a while before he asked what happened. He started walking to your home, you explained what happened as he carried you up the stairs.

“I saw blood, and then I had a grenade tossed at me, which knocked me out. When I came to, you were gone and I was scared, I thought I lost you.”

You shed a few tears as you kissed him. He wrapped his arms around you tightly, rubbing your back while you kissed. The next few minutes felt like you were in slow motion. You stared at each other for a while, you yawned, signaling it was time for a nap. You were exhausted and hadn’t slept properly in the last few weeks.

Hancock lifted up the blankets, tucking you both under, he pulled you close until you were resting your head on his chest. “I promise no one will ever take you from me again” he said as he rubbed your back.

[eddiemunsonsmum]

Holiday Antics (Eddie Munson x OC)

Eddie Munson x OC | Eddie Munson x Karmen Jones

Summary: Delighted by the sound of their Father screaming, Eddie's children torment him with the new toys he bought them for Christmas.

Tags: Dad!Eddie, Mom!Karmen, The Munson Children, Uncle Wayne, Family Fun, Christmas Day, New Years Eve, Pranks, Joking, Banter, Comedy (I hope), Children's laughter etc.

Words: 3.2K

~~

Eddie skidded down the hallway, gasping in pain as he clipped his hip against the doorframe of the bedroom. He continued on regardless, flying through it, hand covering the source of the pain as he locked his eyes on his target. 

The closet was in sight, taking up entirely too much of his attention as he tripped on the edge of the rug. He swore under his breath, regaining his balance and murmuring about ‘fixing that’ as he reached for the handle to the walk-in.

He was supposed to be dressed already but he’d left it to the last minute as was customary these days. He’s gotten caught up building Lego and hadn’t realized the time until Karmen had stopped by the playroom and questioned why he wasn’t ready.

Guests were due to start arriving in the next ten minutes and he had sworn black and blue that if he opened his new Lego this afternoon he would still be more than ready to greet them at the door by the time they did so.

He was going to be ready. It was fine. He knew exactly what he was wearing…

He just had to find it.

He pulled on the handle, reefing the door open and completely missing the set of eyes that shot open as soon as they were exposed to light.

“Hey!”

“Ahhh!” Eddie screamed, the ferocity of his own yelp scaring even himself as he jumped out of his skin. Clutching at his chest as he stumbled backwards. Foot catching on the mat for a second time and lurching him back further. The back of his knees hitting against the edge of the bed and sending him crashing down like a felled hardwood. 

He landed on the old mattress with a thump. Squeaky springs protesting under his weight as he gasped in a broken breath at the way his back twinged from the landing.

“May-may Oo-nye!” Said the voice from the closet. The sound of mechanical whirring echoing in the small space as Eddie stared at the creature with wide, frightened eyes. Chest heaving, breathing shaky as pointed, furry ears moved up and down and large dead eyes blinked in his direction.

“I h-hate you.” He hissed, venom in his tone as the sound of children’s laughter came barrelling into the room.

“We got you again!” Evie squealed, rushing towards the closet and wrapping eager hands around the gray and pink Furby that giggled in response. It’s stupid little beak moving as it spoke nonsense in his direction. Its lashed eyelids drooped briefly as it was picked up. One of them opened again and the other got stuck, leaving it looking frazzled as his daughter held her arms out straight in front of her and shoved the toy in his face.

“May-may Oo-nye!” The Furby repeated, just an inch from Eddie’s nose.

“That means he loves you!” The little boy at his feet piped up. His own monstrosity was black and white and resting on the floor where he was crouched. Looking up at his Dad with a cheeky expression.

“Kids!” Karmen shouted from somewhere outside the room. “Stop scaring your Dad with the Furbys!” Her words grew closer, along with heavy footsteps that made the children scatter.

Evie clambered towards the closet, tripping on the same corner of the rug he had moments earlier and slamming into the wall. She recovered faster than Eddie could cringe. Flinging herself into the hanging clothes and yanking the door closed in front of her. 

She settled down in the shoes to hide while the other child flattened himself and tried to roll under the bed. Getting caught on Eddie’s feet as he went and slapping at his Dad’s shins until he lifted them out of the way to aid the escape.

Karmen appeared in the doorway. Shoulders slumping as she looked around at the seemingly kid free room. Her eyes narrowing as they landed on Eddie and despite his heart being in his throat and his stomach being in his ass he shrugged nonchalantly as if he didn’t know where they’d gone.

“Did Evie hide that thing in the closet again?” She asked, frustration in her tone as he tried to lie to her. Shaking his head as casually as he could manage. Not daring to speak in front of her lest the fright brought on his stutter and gave him away

It was New Years Eve 1998 and Eddie’s thirty three year old body felt fifty after he’d had the life scared out of him for the 25th time in seven days.

They’d been torturing him for a week now.

Making him regret the family pack of batteries he’d insisted upon because:

“The kids are going to love these things!” 

And love them they did.

What Eddie hadn’t anticipated however, was his utter horror at sound of the little fucker’s voices.

The Furbys. Not the children.

The rough nasally whine of an inanimate object that spoke like a person but couldn’t feel things. That could seemingly understand him and learn but didn’t possess a sense of empathy.

They hadn’t seemed so atrocious on the TV. The kids in the ads were laughing and the toy’s little voices hadn’t been anywhere near as grating. 

But in real life, the Uncanny Valley was instantaneous and powerful. 

Unfortunately for Eddie, so was the love the kids felt for their new toys. Their little eyes turned dark and possessive when he had suggested they put them away for a while.

“Let them play, we don’t have anywhere to be.” Karmen had argued, her fingers stroking over the mohawk style mane of one of the creatures and making him want to gag at how comfortable she was with it.

“How do you turn them off?” Eddie had asked her quietly a little while later. While the children were getting ready to go outside and make a snowman with Grandpa Wayne. 

Their fluffy abominations forgotten for now and chittering to one another on the coffee table in front of their parents.

“Uh, I think they have to go to sleep.” She had answered, looking up briefly from her gameboy.

“Sleep?” Eddie had croaked. “Like a baby? You can’t just turn them off?”

“Awww look at this one!” Karmen had cooed, seemingly oblivious to his distress as she pointed the screen of her device in his face and showed him a Vulpix. “He’s a widdle fox!” 

Eddie had stared at the little creature on the screen. A sense of dread filled him as the kids had rushed back into the room and picked up their toys while Karmen went back to her game.

“Leave them inside guys, they’ll stop working if you get them wet.” She’d said absently, the chorus of disappointed whining not phasing her as she threw a virtual ball at a little monster on her screen.

“I’m sure it’s fine.” Eddie had chuckled uncomfortably, jumping out of his skin as a heavy hand landed on his shoulder and the Furby closest to him seemed to laugh at his expense.

He wondered if that was possible as he looked up and locked eyes with Uncle Wayne. 

“Leave those terrifying critters in here or I’m going home.” He said flatly, the kids screeching with glee at the thought that someone as tough as Grandpa Wayne was scared of such a silly looking kid’s toy.

Eddie had taken it upon himself to clean up that morning. Gathering all the gift wrap and empty packages and hiding behind the trash cans outside to read the back of the Furby box to try and figure out how to turn them off. 

Karmen was right.

It said that they had a light sensor in their forehead and if they spent long enough in the dark they would go to sleep. So he’d done the only rational thing he could think of. Picked them both up, shuddered as their little ears moved against his hands and shoved them in the pantry.

Karmen had eyed him suspiciously from her place on the couch. But ultimately she was too enthralled by Pokemon Red to really care. Grateful when he offered to get breakfast started as a way to take the heat off himself.

He’d dug his own grave already. He just didn’t know it.

The muffled yammering of the toys simmered down after a few minutes in the cupboard and Eddie had moved on to thinking about other things like which Lego set he was going to build first. 

His relief at the silence had been short lived as the kids came rushing back inside complaining about being freezing.

Karmen had begrudgingly turned off her game, taking over lunch and making Wayne a coffee while Eddie took the kids to the bathroom to have a warm shower. 

They’d returned twenty minutes later and as they entered the living room from the hallway Karmen had called out for Eddie to grab the condiments from the pantry to help her set the table.

He’d opened the door without thinking. A shriek flying from his lips as the light hit the little vermin he’d decided for some God forsaken reason, to leave at head height and both sets of eyes flew open to blink at him lazily.

“Dah-ay-loh-oo-tye!” They shouted in unison as Eddie leaped backwards, his shoulder blade connecting with the opposite wall and making him take in a rattling gasp of a breath as he slowly slid down the wall and onto the floor.

Breathing heavy through the pain in his joints as he sat, defeated, for a long moment. Before he finally mustered the courage to lol his head to the side. Fully aware that the entire family was watching him and waiting to see what would happen next.

The silence would have been deafening if not for the janky hum of the mechanics inside the toys as they blinked at nothing. Repeating the same phrase over and over until one of them yawned and they both started snoring.

The comical drag of the whistling snort made him close his eyes as he waited for someone to say something.

“Dad’s scared of Furby.” Evie stage whispered, looking at Karmen with concern in her big beautiful eyes as her Mother frowned in his direction.

“Mmm.” She hummed. The room fell silent once again until the tight purse of Wayne’s lips could be contained no longer and he spat out a laugh so hearty that it startled the kids.

Both of them turned to him with the same fearful eyes he recognized as Eddie’s before they realized what was happening and laughed along with him. 

They locked eyes with one another quickly. Pupils dilated as their little faces lit up with glee. Both of them turning to Eddie with borderline unhinged expressions of pure delight that reminded him somehow of when he’d looked back at Steve in 1986. Snapping the wires in his fingers together and finally getting to say ‘Fuck you Maureen’ by stealing her house.

“Dad’s scared of Furby.” Evie repeated, barely contained excitement dripping from her tone as the children stared at one another with unrestrained joy and silently schemed on how to best take advantage of this new, hilarious and highly unusual situation.

Dad wasn’t scared of anything.

Except yes Dad was. 

He was scared of so many things all the time.

But he’d never admit it to the children.

“Well it sure is a shame that there’s no children in here.” Karmen said loudly, in the present time as she stepped inside the bedroom. “Because any toys that are still on the floor in the living room when the guests start arriving are going in the trash.” She continued as she stopped in front of Eddie and crossed her arms over her chest. 

“Kah-mee-mee-noo-loo!” The closest exclaimed, muffled shushing and the rustling of clothing not enough to prevent the toy under the bed from responding to its friend. 

“Dah-doo-ay-wah!” It shouted happily. Eddie scrunching up his nose at the sound as Karmen tried not to laugh at the little hands she could see fumbling with the furry thing under the bed.

“Kids, seriously. It’s not funny anymore. Leave Dad alone.” She said as firmly as she could. The absurdity of the situation making it hard to be sincere.

“I’m fine!” Eddie lied as the kids slowly showed themselves, reappearing beside their Mother. 

Mischievous grins on their faces until they caught her eye and had the humility to look half apologetic.

“Sorry Daddy.” Evie said softly, eyes twinkling under long fluttery lashes that rivaled the Furby’s as she blinked at him. Feigning innocence while knowing exactly what she was doing. She was nearly twelve now. She never called him Daddy anymore unless she really wanted to tug at the heartstrings. 

“You too.” Karmen gestured at their other child. The little boy, the picture of Eddie as a child, stared up at him with eyes that were somehow bigger and even more like his than Evie’s had ever been.

“Sowwy.” He murmured, pouting his lips as Eddie looked between them both tiredly. He was too big now to be forgoing his R’s. 

He couldn’t blame them. They were twice as clever as he had been at their ages. But he had been twice as manipulative.

“Thank you.” He ground out. Deciding to accept the apology and move on instead of continuing to pretend as though they hadn’t scared him. 

“Good job. Go and pick up your toys.” Karmen said wearily, sick of repeating herself.

She turned back to Eddie as they left. Sitting herself down on the bed next to him and placing her hands on his thigh. She leaned on them heavily, staring deeply into his eyes as he relished in her undivided attention.

It was rare these days but it still made him flush like it had the night they met. His heart beating like crazy as he took in the sight of her fully dressed and ready to host.

She looked delicious.

“For the love of God, please get dressed.” She said simply. Making him throw his head back and scoff.

She chuckled, fisting a hand in his hair and pulling him in for the kiss he’d been hoping for. His hands groped greedily at her as she pulled away. “Ah ah, we don’t have time.” She warned him quickly, placing a finger over his lips to quiet him as he tried to argue about how quick he could be. “Get dressed.” She repeated, as Eddie grumbled about not really wanting to make any more babies anyway since all they did was bully him.

“Woah!” Said a voice from the floor. Both of them jumping but Karmen yipping in surprise and kicking out her high heel clad foot in reflex.

The black and white Furby that had been left behind was hurled across the carpet. Hitting the closed door of the closet hard and rolling back towards them. Stopping in the middle of the rug, its ear half hanging off and his grainy little robot voice skipping as it tried to tell them how much it loved them.

Karmen brought her hands up to cover her face. Tears springing to her eyes as she realized what she had done.

Eddie stared at the toy open mouthed. It’s skipping voice and hanging ear making it look a sorry sight as it jittered around on the rug.

His eyes slowly slid from the malfunctioning toy to her. They locked gazes for a quick second. Eddie registering the shock and sadness in her emerald orbs and jumping into action. Diving for the creature and pulling it to him as he clicked the ear back in place, good as new.

He leaned to the side, craning to try and see if the kids were on their way up the hall as he put his finger in the bastard thing’s mouth and pressed down on its tongue. Gagging as it stopped trying to talk and made slurping and sucking sounds as if it was being fed. 

It was eating him.

He pushed through the disgust, pressing and holding another button on the bottom at the same time and after a few seconds the thing turned off, successfully reset. He flipped it on its head and then held it upright on his hand as they both waited with baited breath.

The toy came back to life suddenly. Bidding Eddie good morning without stuttering in the gibberish language it spoke and they both let go of a sigh of relief. 

“Thank you.” Karmen breathed as Eddie put the critter back on the floor. 

“You gave it the Eddie Special.” He laughed, making her whimper at the reference to his speech disorder.

Eddie chuckled at his own joke. Flopping back on the bed and groaning long and loud.

Goddammit. 

Why did he have to love his damn kids so much?

He should have left it broken.

“Wait.” Karmen said suddenly, staring down at the demon toy with confusion on her face before turning to him. “You know how to turn them off?” She asked incredulously. Slapping him on the thigh and watching as his shoulders shook with a dramatic, yet quiet, fake cry in response.

He did.

He did know how to turn them off.

It had been on the back of the box he’d read Christmas morning and he’d considered it many, many times since the point when he was hunched in the snow reading about it.

But when he had seen the glint in his children’s eyes after the first time he’d frightened himself, he hadn’t had the heart to do that to them. He knew, deep down in his heart of hearts, that if it made his kids happy he would continue to be voluntarily startled for the rest of his life.

Wayne could have thrown many rubber snakes and fake poos in the trash over the years but he never did. He always reacted with the appropriate shock or disgust and gave Eddie the show he’d been hoping for when he spent a good twenty minutes rigging them up to fall from his bedroom door or finding the perfect hiding spot to scare him the most.

Looking back, he knew logically that there was no way he’d actually surprised the man every single time. But he was allowed to feel like he did when he was a kid and those were some of the memories he cherished the most from when he was little.

It just so happened that Eddie’s kids had accidentally found the perfect toy to terrorize him with. One that provoked an actual fear response every single time and kept them coming after him.

Although, he had to admit. Seeing it all broken on the floor after Karmen had kicked it had taken some of the power away from it. Reminding him that after all it was just a toy and making him almost feel sorry for it in a strange way.

It looked kind of pathetic and evoked his sense of empathy.

He guessed he kind of did understand now why Karmen had stayed with him all these years.

He sighed heavily. Closing his eyes and listening to the string of nonsense coming out of the toy's mouth. His eyes shooting open suddenly as he gasped in realization, sitting bolt upright and grinning at his wife with the same unhinged smile she’d seen on their kid’s faces on Christmas Day.

“Kids!” He shouted, making her jump. “Mum’s scared of Furby!”

~~

A/N: In 2020 Evie texts Eddie a picture of a Long Furby and he cries about it.

So apparently I'm the only person ever that loves the original Furby and doesn't want it to burn in hell? 🤷‍♀️

Furby doesn't actually wake up in a light room but it never shuts the fuck up either so the chances of them just not hearing it talking were slim. I needed to add a feature.

My shirt:

Read the rest of the series here :)

This series is so personal to me, so it means the world to me when someone let’s me know they enjoy a work from this series. If you guys liked this please pleaseee consider letting me know via comment, reblog, message, anon ask etc.  

Tags: @3ddi3-daydreamer @micheledawn1975 @munson-blurbs @wheels-of-despair @browneyes528 @stevemunsons

[a-killer-obsession]

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 12 - Overboard

You struggle with your confidence after going feral, as an approaching storm threatens to shake things up.

WC: ~5k

Taglist: @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @tremendoushorsepatrolgoth @iggy5055

You were uncharacteristically quiet for the next several weeks. Unnervingly quiet. It wasn't that you were mad at Kid, or scared of him, or anything like that. It was yourself you were scared of. It'd been a long time since you'd gone feral like that, and it distressed you. You didn't like not being in control, not when you'd worked so hard to get back your autonomy. You hadn't had a feral episode since you'd gotten the mask when you were eleven, since then you hadn't ever been away from either seastone or your mask for long enough for it to happen. It reminded you just how thin the rope you were treading was - one small slip and you could kill the only friends you had in the world. Every time you left your room all you could think was ‘What if I slip and my mask breaks? What if a henchman grabs it and throws it overboard? What if we're attacked and Kid accidentally grabs it with his devil fruit? What if an enemy cracks it during battle?’ To say you were stressed would be an understatement, your heart raced with fear at the mere sight of any other living person.

So you kept to yourself. If you stayed away from others, you would be of less risk to them. Heat tried to give you company, but more often than not you excused yourself from the situation almost as soon as he arrived. You'd taken to locking your bedroom door so he couldn't join you anymore. The toys he'd bought had come at a good time, because you didn't have to worry about risking his life by fooling around with him. He didn't take offence to it. He'd seen the holes in the walls at the inn, the gruesome state of the henchman's body, the deep bite mark in Kid's neck that was leaving a clear scar as it healed, adding to his already vast collection. He'd heard from Killer what happened, and he understood your hesitation to interact with the crew, especially when he learned that he had been your first priority when you found out you'd killed someone. Nobody mentioned the dead henchman, death was common and almost expected among their ranks, nobody took it personally. Anyone who learned you'd been the one to kill him just guessed that he can't have been that strong to have been killed so easily by a girl, so he didn't belong in this crew in the first place.

Killer still forced you to take reading lessons, but something was different there too. A different kind of hesitancy, one that gave you both butterflies and forced you to both keep your distance at all other times. You'd catch each other making passing glances at dinner, always quickly looking away. Even Kid had noticed the change in both of you, but he could only assume it was because of the incident. He thought you were acting the same with Killer as you were with everyone else, avoiding them out of fear - for what, he didn't know - and that Killer was avoiding you after so willingly having put his mask on you. The actual intimate depth of the situation was going over his head. You and Killer both knew well what was happening, with your abilities and his observation haki you could hear how your hearts both quickened around each other, so you avoided contact like your life depended on it, outside of reading lessons and meal times. There was a silent understanding between you, both scared of getting too close for different reasons, so you both stayed away.

Even so, Killer couldn't help but feel bad for you, and couldn't help but try to make small gestures to raise your confidence and show you were cared for. Even if he couldn't let himself get further with you, he told himself that it didn't mean he couldn't at least try to show he was still a friend. The reading lessons were a great help, you often forgot your fear when it was just the two of you, but there were other things too.

He found out you enjoyed chocolate cake, so he'd bake one every couple of days and leave anonymous slices outside your door, like it wasn't obvious who was leaving them. If you were on night watch, he would take the morning watch, making sure he was the first to check on you and make sure you were okay. If it started raining during your watch, he made sure to bring you a blanket, even though he knew you didn't need it. He'd started taking your plate after meals before you had a chance to bus it yourself, giving you the chance to retreat and recover from the stress of being around other people faster. Small gestures that he didn't even realise he was doing sometimes, but he couldn't help himself. He tried to stay away, he really did, but his heart strings pulled hard and forced him towards you over and over.

It didn't go unnoticed by you, all the small things that he did to try and cheer you up. Unfortunately it had the effect of making you feel worse, crying to yourself in the dark of night that you would never truly feel love, you could never truly get close enough to someone without hurting them, or worse. You were damaged goods, who would even want you, let alone risk their life to be with you? Killer heard you crying sometimes, when he passed your room oh so casually, definitely not just trying to subtly check on you, and it made his heart hurt knowing there was nothing he could do to ease your pain.

He understood too well how you felt, he'd long since resigned himself to being alone, a combination of his insecurities and his nomadic life keeping him from ever truly getting close to someone. He desperately wished he could let you in, but he'd look at himself in his broken mirror, forcing a smile, and remind himself that he could never let anyone in like that. He had Kid, and he had the other commanders, that platonic love and fleeting hookups at random islands would have to be enough. It'd been years since he'd even moved the mask enough to kiss a woman, all of his hookups over the last few years having been entirely for the purpose of getting off only, never removing his mask for them no matter how much they begged. It made it easy to keep himself grounded, and stop himself from falling too deep.

Finally, after fifteen cruel days at sea, Heat pulled him and Kid aside, determined to figure shit out.

“I can't watch this anymore man, we have to do something about her,” Heat pinched the bridge of his nose, hurt and frustrated that it felt like he'd lost his friend when he'd only just gotten you to truly open up to him. It wasn't even anything to do with the hooking up, he knew that was only a temporary arrangement anyway, he just wanted his friend back.

“What's her problem anyway?” Kid complained, “she killed some no name henchman, who the fuck cares?”

“It's not that,” Killer interjected, “she's scared of how easy she turned feral. She took hurting you to heart”

“Like you lot haven't taken swings at me before,” Kid groaned, rolling his eyes, “remember when you stabbed me in the leg over a meatball? We're still mates”

“It's not the same thing for her,” Killer explained, “you have to remember we're the closest thing she's had to a family since she was a kid, and all it took was being away from her control mechanisms for a few minutes for her to almost kill you. If she'd killed you, her life as she knows it would have been over. There'd be no crew for her anymore, she'd be alone again”

“So she's scared we'll kick her out if she goes postal?” Kid grumbled.

“You're not getting it Kid,” Killer ran an exhausted hand down the front of his mask, “she's not scared of you, or us, she's scared of herself. She thinks its too easy to lose control”

“You can't really blame her,” Heat added, “all she has is a mask that could get knocked off or broken at any time, and a shoddy piece of raw seastone”

“That's her issue?” Kid said with wide eyes, “well fuck she should have said something, I could have just made her a bracelet or something”

Heat and Killer stared silently in disbelief at Kid, and he shifted uncomfortably under the tense gazes. “What?”

“You could have done that this whole time and you didn't think maybe it might be useful?” Killer growled, “she's your crew Kid, it's your job to make sure she's comfortable and safe with us. You knew what she was working with and you didn't think maybe she could do with something more than a scrap she has to hold every night? You ever tried to sleep holding something? It's not easy, but if she drops it she could kill everyone here without breaking a sweat. She's probably not had a decent sleep since she got here out of anxiety”

“Why didn't she just wear a cuff or something?” Kid puzzled.

“I don't know Kid, why don't you ask the lifelong victim of abuse and imprisonment why she wouldn't want to be locked into a seastone cuff every night?” Killer snapped back sarcastically.

“Okay… point taken,” Kid mumbled. “Gimme a couple of days, I can probably make something simple she can flip over when she needs it, I'm sure I have a couple of seastone bullets laying around in my workshop. I'll have to work the stone manually though since I can't use my powers on it, so she'll just have to hold her horses for now”

Three days later Kid pulled you into his workshop. You'd never been inside, and your curiosity outweighed your fear of being alone with him for a short while as you scanned the new, unfamiliar space with your eyes. The room was small, but it housed a long workbench along one side, covered with various tools, scraps, and half finished projects. Against one wall were a few large machines, assumedly for cutting and grinding things, and nearby were some open wooden crates filled with all sorts of different metal scraps, some larger sheets pinned against the wall behind them.

You stood awkwardly in the middle of the room while he put the final touches on something you couldn't see, before swivelling on his stool and holding a small metal box out to you.

“What's this?” You asked curiously, taking it with both hands and looking between him and the box curiously. You and Kid didn't really have the best of relationships, so a gift was extremely unexpected.

“An apology,” he mumbled, scratching the back of his head. “Just open it”

You undid the small brass clasp on the box and opened it to find a small bracelet. It was silver, with some sort of large, flat, circular pendant on it. On the pendant was the carefully engraved jolly roger of the Kid Pirates, the same one that decorated the main sail of the ship.

“Here,” he said, removing the bracelet from the box and holding out his flesh hand, indicating for you to put your hand in his. You did so anxiously, and he used his fruit to unlatch the bracelet, which floated around your wrist like magic with small purple sparks and clasped itself shut. It was a little loose, so he mumbled profanities under his breath before using his fruit to remove a few links. Now that the bracelet was tight, the pendant pressing against your skin, and your eyes widened in surprise as your powers were suddenly nullified.

“Seastone?” You asked, inspecting the bracelet carefully. You could only see silver, you didn't understand how it was working.

He held your hand gently and flipped the pendant, hiding the jolly roger and revealing the small piece of seastone that was embedded in the other side, flush with the metal border. The seastone was also engraved, this time with the alternative jolly roger of the Kid Pirates, the one that Wire wore on his clothing that you always thought looked suspiciously like Heat. “You can flip it when you need your powers deactivated,” he explained, letting your hand go, “Killer and Heat thought it might be better than holding that rock you've been working with”

“Kid, it's beautiful,” you remarked, “did you make this?”

“Yeah, and it was a real bitch too,” he grumbled, “had to go one armed to work with the seastone. It should be strong though, you don't have to worry about anyone pulling it off or breaking it. Should be able to shower with it too, just make sure you polish it every now and again or the metal with tarnish. If it gets too tight let me know, when you finish getting back to a healthy size you might need a extra link added”

Your head snapped up as you realised what this was really about, “Kid…”

“Look, I get you're scared of losing control or whatever,” he cut you off, “but I'm your captain, you have a problem, you tell me. Or at least tell one of the other commanders. I could have made this for you ages ago, but I thought you were good with your rock”

“I'm sor-”

“It's fine, just quit moping around,” he interrupted again, “you're bumming my commanders out. You've got the bracelet now, something happens to your mask, you can just flip the pendant, so you're not gonna go postal again. Your place here with us is safe, you're not gonna hurt anyone”

“Thank you, Captain,” you sniffed. You were trying your best not to cry in relief, knowing how much that would undoubtedly piss him off after he'd just done such a kind thing for you. At the same time you felt ashamed, that you'd kept your struggle to yourself when Killer and Heat had been trying so hard to show you that you weren't alone. It was a hard learning curve, you guessed, to adjust to not being a lone wolf anymore. It had been so long since anyone had truly cared about you.

“Now get out, I've got shit to do,” he growled, turning back to his table. He didn't like seeing the way your lips were wobbling.

“Right, of course Captain,” you quickly hurried to the door, pausing for a moment before you left, “thank you, Kid, really,” then you fled, leaving him feeling all warm and wholesome and disgusting.

The change in your confidence was immediately noticeable, skipping straight up to Killer to show him your fancy new bracelet. He smiled at you under the mask and gave you a friendly pat on the back, genuinely happy for you, and impressed that Kid had worked so hard on the small, detailed piece of jewelry. As quickly as you'd appeared you were gone again, off in an excited flurry to show Heat, and he couldn't help but feel empty that you'd left. He sighed and looked back out over the railing where he'd been watching the progress of a storm on the horizon, hearing your excited squealing behind him as you showed off to Heat.

For now the storm wasn't concerning him too much, but this was the Grandline, it could change winds at any moment. He turned to report it to Kid, and almost slammed into you, who had appeared again behind him.

“Fuck Yin, you need a fucking bell,” he gasped.

“Yeah? One with a pretty collar?” You cooed. Yup, you were definitely back. He flushed under the mask at the mental images your casual flirtation brought up.

“What do you want?” He grumbled, trying to shake the dirty image of you with fluffy ears and a leash from his mind.

“You're the one making me cakes right?” You asked. He blushed more, the pink tint starting to escape his mask down to his neck. He hadn't expected you to bring it up so quickly. Or at all, really.

“Yeah, uh,” he rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, “are they okay?”

“Yeah, they're really good! And it was really nice of you to try and cheer me up…” you looked past him at the dark clouds on the horizon, “I was wondering if maybe you could show me how to make them? Just um… if you wanted. You did say you wanted to teach me to cook…”

“Baking is sort of different, but yeah, I can show you,” he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. The last few weeks you'd had to be basically dragged, kicking and screaming, to reading lessons, and now you were asking to spend time with him. The change in demeanour was giving him whiplash. He didn't like it - not you wanting to spend time with him, but the fact that he realised you now no longer had a reason to hold yourself back from him. Staying away was about to become a whole lot harder.

“Yay! Let's go then,” you grabbed his scarred arm with both hands and pulled as hard as you could, and he couldn't help but smirk at how easy it was to resist your pulling, barely budging despite you putting your full weight into it. You paused and pouted at him, and his heart did a silly little cartwheel. He sighed and started moving, purposefully knocking you out of the way as he made his way to the kitchen. You pouted more before skipping behind him, claiming this as a victory.

The cake was made for the most part with little difficulty, and he was able to use it as another opportunity to teach you to read. You'd already learned your numbers, you found them much easier than words, and you were getting good at matching words, so you were able to look at the measurements in the cookbook and match them to the correct marking on the measuring tools, with some help from Killer to identify the ingredients when the words were too tricky to successfully sound out on your own. He guided you through the cooking method, the sentences still being too long and complicated for your skill level, but he was proud of your progress anyway. It was a stark improvement on the first time you'd tried to help him cook, and he couldn't help but smile at your excitement and enthusiasm. As he watched you move he couldn't help but notice your progress with healing too, your arms no longer dangerously boney, and your shirt beginning to bow where your breasts were filling in. He hoped his cooking over the last few weeks had something to do with that, and it made his heart swell to think he was so integral to your healing.

While the cake baked and cooled he showed you how to peel and cut the various vegetables he was prepping for dinner. The storm was rumbling in the distance, the rocky waves from the winds picking up making the Victoria Punk rock gently from side to side, but for now the brunt of the storm was far away. Even the rain hadn't reached the ship yet, though it could be seen in the distance as a slight haze in the air.

The icing was a different bag of weeds all together. You had measured it out, but your skill manually whipping the ingredients together left a lot to be desired, and Killer wondered if he should add an electric beater to his shopping list, having never had need for one himself. Your arms were still weak from years of starvation and captivity, and he grew frustrated knowing he could do it himself in a fraction of the time.

“Here, let me,” he tried to shimmy you out of the way, attempting to take the bowl and whisk from you, but you gave him a stubborn pout.

“I can do it!” You grumbled, refusing to let go of the whisk. Killer accepted the challenge and pulled harder. A playful lightbulb went off in your brain and you let go, the whisk suddenly snapping towards Killer with all the force he'd been using to pull and slamming against his chest. Icing flew everywhere, covering both of you in sticky chocolate goop. You started to laugh maniacally, while Killer stood in stunned shock, confused at what had even happened.

“You should see your not-face right now!” You laughed, holding your stomach as you wheezed, “I got you so fucking good!”

Killer gave his best impression of an outwardly annoyed appearance, but under the mask he was smiling, overjoyed to hear you laughing again for the first time in weeks. He flicked the whisk at you, scattering the icing on your face and visor. You stopped laughing in shock at his unexpectedly childish reaction, it was so unlike him, then you smirked playfully and licked the sweet icing from the corner of your mouth. Your tongue flicked out and ran along your lips teasingly and Killer struggled to not stare.

“Here, you missed a spot,” he swiped a thick dollop of icing from your mask, and was about to wipe it on your shirt when you grabbed his wrist. His heart stopped as you closed the short distance between you and ran your tongue over his fingers, and he swore he about near died when you looked up at him and put them in your mouth, sucking on them and letting them go with a pop.

“Yin-” he started.

“Delicious,” you purred, stepping closer, still holding his wrist.

“Oi, you seen Yin?” Heat's voice came from behind him. Killer's back was to the door, his large form entirely blocking Heat's view of the sticky situation. You gave one last teasing kitten lick before letting his hand go, skipping around Killer to greet Heat.

“Heat! Come give me a hug!” You cooed, stepping towards him with open arms. He almost fell for it, taking one enthusiastic step forward before spotting the icing down your front, and hastily turning heel to flee.

“No thanks!” He yelled as he fled, with you hot on his trail.

“Aww come on!” Killer heard you call as you left the kitchen in pursuit of your victim, “just one hug!”

Killer was left standing shellshocked in the kitchen, his pants straining and his brain entirely fried by the sudden heated interaction. ‘Fuck, this is going to be harder than I thought,’ he grumbled to himself as a soft scattering of rain began to patter against the kitchen's portholes.

A cold shower and an intense jerking session wasn't enough to keep Killer's dirty thoughts at bay. He couldn't help but steal glances at you at dinner, and he almost choked when you caught him staring, replying with a soft smile and a foot rubbing against his leg under the table. You were making your thoughts obvious now, and it was torture for him.

He'd basically sprinted back to his room after dinner, almost putting a hole in the shower wall with the intensity that he fucked his own hand. He groaned and panted as he watched the results of his suffering roll down the shower drain. He went to bed early, but he was tossing and turning, his dick springing back to life every time he accidentally remembered the alluring sight of his fingers disappearing between your lips, the way your tongue stroked against them knowingly. He wondered how you'd look on your knees, how it'd feel if it was his cock in your mouth instead of his fingers. “Fuck,” he growled to himself, rolling over once again as a crack of thunder vibrated the room. The rain was bridging on hail now, the ship swaying more aggressively in the harsh winds.

Suddenly the ship almost tipped, throwing Killer from his bed, and the emergency alert bell rang sharp between cracks of thunder. He grabbed his mask and ran out barefooted to the deck, it was clear the storm had taken a sudden turn for the worse in classic Grandline fashion. He could already hear the scrambling of boots and Kid's booming shouts as the crew tried to pull in the sails, secure anything loose on deck, and try to keep the ship upright as it swayed dangerously.

You appeared on the opposite side of the deck at the same time as he did, the two of you locking eyes - well, where your eyes would be - for a moment before Kid's shouting got Killer to move. You had run out to the deck barefoot as well, in nothing but your satin nightie and dressing gown. Thanks to the new bracelet you hadn't needed to grab your mask, not that you had time to grab it anyway in the midst of being thrown around your small cabin. You'd no doubt have some vibrant bruises tomorrow.

This wasn't the first ship you'd been on, you were an ex-marine of course, so you did your part, grabbing the nearest sail rope and pulling as hard as you could. You were only small compared to everyone else, but when you dropped your entire weight you were able to make it move. You held on tight as the ship titled, the deck almost perpendicular to the sea, as a heavy wave rocked it.

“TURN THE FUCKING SHIP YOU LAZY CUNTS!” Kid yelled, “KEEP HER UPRIGHT!”

You tied off the rope with a careful knot and moved to the next, spotting Killer further along the railing doing the same as you. You opened your mouth to shout to him, when the ship tilted again, a heavy wave washing over the deck and pushing you flush against the railing. He shouted to you, his mouth moving under his mask but the sounds not reaching you, and when the wave drained, you were gone.

“MAN OVERBOARD,” Killer shouted, desperately scanning the dark water for any sign of you. He spotted your dressing gown floating on the rough black waters, and remembered with sudden panic that you were a devil fruit user, you couldn't fucking swim.

He took one last look at the crew scrambling around on the deck - nobody was coming to help, everyone was too preoccupied with the ship. He wasn't even sure if anyone had even heard him over the thunder and loud winds. Without thinking he jumped into the water, the icy sea knocking the breath out of him the second he made contact as he dove under the surface and searched desperately for you. He could see your lilac hair fluttering in the water as you sank, and he swam as fast as he could, grabbing you desperately and immediately making back for the surface. You gasped and panted as he emerged, clinging to him as best you could in your weakened state and shivering violently.

Killer held you tight, turning with the intent of swimming back to the ship, but greeted only by flashes of lightning and dark, empty waters. It was gone. The heavy winds and strong waves had carried it miles away already, an impossible distance to catch up to, even for a strong swimmer like him. He looked around desperately for anything that could help, anything that could alert the ship that they were here. There was nothing, and all he could do was hold you close and tread water. He had strong legs and incredible stamina, but the waves were high and battered you both continuously, and he almost lost his grip on you several times. All he could do was watch as the ship slowly disappeared over the dark waves, his hopes of either of you surviving this disappearing with it.

[NEXT CHAPTER]

[swampgh0stt]

art by: @stardustrobin

The Slash of 23

Their curiosities and excitement had gotten the better of them. Perhaps next time, they’ll listen when their father says not to wander off. 

If there was a next time. 

Both girls cowered in the corner, trapped and hugging each other. Their only exit was blocked by the monstrous rabbit animatronic, which lumbered closer. Brooke was struck mute, her entire body trembling with fright as she tried to make herself smaller behind her twin sister. Bailey wanted to be brave, wanted to protect her sister from the monster approaching them. --but she was just as scared, with tears spilling down her cheeks. “Go away!” She spat, pressing herself further back and nearly crushing Brooke against the wall. 

For the first time in thirty long years, William felt the thrill of the hunt. Little innocent lives cornered and desperate, completely at his mercy; he recognized Michael in them both, and surely they must be related. He began to salivate at the ideas running through his mind for what came next. He spoke, a gravelly growl of tone, distorted and deep: ”What’s the matter, girls? Don’t recognize your own grandfather?” 

“No!” Bailey snapped, not even responding to him as much as she was trying to scare him away. “Go away! Go away, go away, go away!!!” 

A loud crash followed as Springtrap slammed one of his hands into the wall, his claws sinking through with ease. Fazbear Frights felt cheaply made, like it would crumble under too much turmoil. “Insufferable little--”

Another voice cut through whatever William wanted to say next. “Bailey!! Brooke!!” 

The twin girls felt saved as their father rounded the corner. “Daddy!!” Bailey called. “Daddy, help!!” 

But to Jeremy, he was more angry and relieved to find his girls and didn’t quite realize the severity of the situation they found themselves in. To him, the twins had snuck into an up and coming haunted house attraction and got caught by some ugly animatronic. “You’re both in so much trouble..!” Jeremy was not used to being the harsh parent. That was often reserved for Michael; he was *better* at it. But the fear of losing his girls really had Jeremy’s heart *pounding.* He was terrified of losing another child. 

William froze, playing the part of a mindless animatronic well as Jeremy passed to collect his girls. 

“Daddy, wait!” Bailey pointed at Springtrap. “He’s real!”

But Jeremy, for once, was not in the mood. “How many times have I told you not to run off like this!?” His voice raised uncharacteristically. “What if someone snatched you girls up!? I’d never see you again!” He, too, began to shake from his own grief. Past memories of a dead infant still haunted him at times. He and Michael have been through too much. 

And his anger finally silenced Bailey, who dropped her hand in resignation. 

It was time. ”Finally punched out a couple of bastards from my kid, Fitzgerald?” 

Jeremy froze. His shoulders slumped as a cold dread twisted in his gut. He hadn’t heard that voice in so long-- not outside of his nightmares, at least. Immediately, he whipped around and stood protectively in front of his girls. His heart was pounding, a cold sweat sheen coming over him. “William?” 

Immediately, the broken down Spring Bonnie began to laugh as he sprung to life, his taller form looming over Jeremy and his children. ”You can’t escape,” he snarled. ”We both know it--” 

Jeremy wasn’t going to wait. William had already taken so much from them. His hands balled into tight fists, rage taking over when he swung. His fist collided against the Spring Bonnie head with a heavy thud! But unlike last time? William hardly moved. Another laugh left the elder man as he raised his hand and raked his claws across Jeremy’s face, knocking him back with ease.

Searing pain pulsated across his face as blood gushed out of freshly open wounds. Jeremy fell back hard, much to the dismay of his daughters. “Daddy, are you alright!?” Bailey latched onto her father’s shoulder as Brooke cowered closer. To the twins, their father had been unbeatable. But now, a monster had so easily cut him down. As they stood behind him, the girls were spared the gore painted across their father’s face: his eye gouged out entirely. 

“Jer?” And then there was Michael.

Both William and Jeremy tensed up. Springtrap turned like a feral animal, salivating with each approaching footstep. Bailey raised her voice again, scared out of her mind and wanting to feel safe from the monster cornering her: “Mama!! Help!!” She choked on her sobs, her little hands clinging tight to her father. 

But Jeremy felt his heart pounding in terror. Michael couldn’t-- “No, Mikey! Go away!!” 

Unfortunately, the younger Afton rounded the corner, coming face to face with the horrible sight: His husband, bleeding profusely, sheltering both girls from the moldy rabbit suit that was very obviously Spring Bonnie. Michael froze, his heart skipping a beat. “Dad--” 

William had to hold himself back from lunging ahead. ”Hello, Michael.” 

Michael knew he had to do something. He couldn’t abandon his family, no matter how much Jeremy shouted at him to go. Swearing under his breath, Michael grabbed for one of the tools at his hip and chucked it at Springtrap before taking off in an opposite direction. The tension finally broke in William, who went charging at his son, abandoning Jeremy and the twins.  “No!” Jeremy tried to stand, his legs giving out from the pain coursing through his body. “Shit-- shit!”

[bookshelf-dust]

you've ruined everything.

billy hargrove x fem!reader

word count: 2,867

warnings: swearing, kissing, mentions of past/ongoing trauma, brief smoking, mentions of death, vecna (yes he counts), a pretty violent kill just not described in graphic detail, billy and reader are a mess

requested here

a/n: sylvia, this one's for you (really hope you read that in eddie's voice). so i kind of ended up with a recreation of some season two moments during the plot of season four, if that makes any sense. for context: everyone is still in hawkins, billy is upside-down-aware, everyone is chill with each other. this was my attempt at something riveting, but i don't know if that's what i accomplished. sidenote: for vecna's end, i want you to picture the endings of david in the lost boys or top dollar in the crow (sorry if those are spoilers). i hope you enjoy this!! <333

————

"Max..." Vecna's voice felt like a shiver. Max felt it skate down her scalp, tickle the base of her spine. As if someone had poured ice water over her head.

It was almost funny that he'd chosen her, really. She should've seen it coming.

This young, freshly traumatized girl. This girl who'd been dealt a shitty hand: uprooted from her father, from her hometown, disputed over by new friends. Best of all, she'd watched her brother get ripped apart—mentally and physically. Yeah, he'd lived, but Starcourt had still happened.

Maybe the Mindflayer was dead, but at what cost? Obviously their efforts had been in vain if Vecna was running amuck. But this time, it didn't seem like anything could be fixed. It felt like Vecna was the end.

"Your time...is almost at an end." His voice reverberated around the concrete walls of the school hallway. At least she’d thought it had.

“Max!” You were snapping your fingers in her face, an aggressive gesture, a tone in your voice you’d never used with her. It had been in her head. He’d been in her head.

Max’s headphones hadn’t left her ears since Nancy and Robin told you that music worked. That it’d saved Victor Creel (for the most part). And it would damn well save Max.

But He was getting angry. Vecna didn’t approve of your tactics. He didn’t like your plan.

Save Max. Save Max. Save Max.

So He flipped another page. Swept down another path. He looked into you. Listened.

That boy from the summer. Billy, was it? He’d hid something away. Tucked it nice and snug in the back of his mind. You.

You’d do just fine.

Vecna closed his eyes, let the vines do their job. Let them tether him to your world. He felt through that red blur, felt for you. Found himself sifting through your memories.

"Billy, would you please sit still? You fucking popped at stitch." You sounded aggravated with him, but you'd kissed the angry skin on his side anyhow.

He caught glimpses of you and that boy.

"Max, you have to tell Billy these things. He needs to know how you feel." Max hadn't known how to tell the boy how scared she'd been when she thought she'd lose him.

It seemed you played a great role in both of their lives. He wondered why he hadn't chosen you to begin with.

It seemed a different approach would be necessary this time. Messing with your mind clearly wasn't going to be the best move. Not like it had been for Chrissy. For Fred. For Patrick. Max.

So He started appearing for you. Showing himself off. Making himself known to you.

God, He was like a shadow.

The first time you'd been in the car with Steve. A glance in the rearview mirror and Vecna was in the backseat. You would've laughed at the odd manner of the situation, if it weren't for the way the monster was looking at you.

Like you were a hindrance.

You'd jumped, causing Steve to jump, but you'd gotten him to brush it off, keep his eyes on the road.

The more Vecna showed up, the more you understood what he was playing at.

He was outside the gym the night of the championship game when you'd gone out to get some air, the bleachers being way too crowded and sweaty for your liking. Billy had offered to go with you, but you knew he was much to invested in Lucas winning the Tigers the game.

You didn't even flinch when you heard that growl--familiar at this point. In fact, you patted your pockets, grabbing hold of the pack of Marlboros and the lighter Billy had shoved in your jacket earlier.

The spark caught, a little flame igniting, and you lit a cigarette. Watched as he made his way towards you. He really was ugly.

"You've ruined everything."

You felt it that time. How Max had described the way Vecna's voice carried.

To you, though, it felt like when someone lights a fuse, when you watch the flame snake up up up. And then it stops. There’s just no boom. It simply feels like the empty space after the firework goes off, the air dead quiet. You thought you could get used to the feeling if need be.

Of course, you didn’t tell anyone about this. About your experiences.

Not like Max had. Like Billy that night last summer when he’d dialed your number, hands sweating and shaking, in the telephone booth.

This wasn’t about you. This was about keeping Hawkins safe. Keeping Max and Eddie safe.

You didn’t tell anyone except Will. You thought he’d understand that instinct to not worry anyone else, and he did. Be able to tell you anything that might help. But then you realized you were burdening him with all of this, and you quit.

But your friends had started to notice when nothing was happening to Max—when she made it past the week mark, when the symptoms had stopped.

No way it was that easy. That, what, Vecna had just given up? No. It was never that simple.

————

“Yeah, yeah, I’m coming.” Steve stomped down the stairs, swung the door open.

He was met with you.

“Why are you sweaty?” Steve propped his arm up against the door frame.

“Don’t worry about it. Where’s the bat?”

“Huh?” Sometimes you thought he really did need to be told everything.

“Nancy’s bat. The one with the nails?” You waved your hands above your head for emphasis. I need to borrow it. Please.”

“That’s my bat.” Steve set his hands on his hips, his most common motherly gesture.

“No, Steve. It’s Nancy’s. You took it at Jonathan’s house, remember? Fuck, okay. That’s not important. Would you just get me the damn thing?”

Steve obliged, though slightly frightened by what you could need it for, but, frankly, he thought you were a badass and could handle whatever it was.

He marched back up the stairs to his room, leaving you in the doorway. You heard him mumble along the way. “Nancy’s bat my ass. ‘S totally my bat. I’ve used it way more.”

————

Will was panicking. He’d always been good at keeping secrets; he did it nearly every day of his life. But he cared about you. You were like a sister to him. And he understood why you’d come to him, and even why you’d stopped, but when Steve called the Byers residence in question of why you might need a bat, he entered full freak-out-mode.

He had this image in his head of you being all alone, trying to fight this thing, and it made him sick. He didn't need to feel for the goosebumps on the back of his neck to know that it wasn't just in his head.

His hands were sweating as he picked up the phone, dialed Max's number.

"Hello?"

"I need to talk to your brother."

"Will? Why do you need to talk to Billy?"

Will could hear muffled music around the sound of Max's voice, so obviously Billy was home.

"It's about Y/N. I think something bad is going to happen. I think she's going to die."

————

Steve lazily rose from the couch, pausing the television. He followed the obsessive knocking once again, raising his hands in surrender though no one could see him. "Alright! Jesus, I'm coming, I'm coming. Can't you people just leave me alone for a while?"

This time, when he swung the door open, he was met with none other than Billy Hargrove. The apparition of such a creature was so odd to him, that Steve laughed. Actually laughed. Billy did not like this.

"Shut the hell up, Harrington." Steve did, but only because he didn't like the look on the blonde's face--like something was wrong. He realized that there was no reason for Billy to be here other than if something was wrong.

"I need your help." Steve had to bite his tongue. This was insane.

"Byers said that Y/N was here tonight, that she's gone off a-and I would fucking rip you a new one for not telling me about this Vecna shit, but I don't have time for that one right now. It's just that you guys have done this before, and I'm not exactly cut out to go off looking for her on my own--"

Steve cut him off, having never seen Billy ramble, or look remotely mentally distressed. "Hey, man, it's totally fine. I'll get a hold of Nancy, and you could go pick up Robin or something--look, we will figure it out, okay? I know this is a lot."

Billy shook his hands out, zipped up his jacket. He didn't like this. Not even a little bit. He wondered if this what it had been like for you when he'd been flayed: the constant buzz of fear, like you were gonna slip and fall away from him.

But he was also angry with you. You told him everything. This meant you'd been keeping something serious from him, and the both of you had worked so hard to get to a solid point in your relationship where all of your cards were on the table, no matter how shitty the hand was.

Sometimes it was just hard to be open.

Billy sat on the steps inside Steve's place, half registering that he was on the phone with Nancy who was simultaneously arguing with Mike.

There'd been a day once, back when he was still recovering, where he was sat on the edge of the tub, you with your knees pressed into the rug below you. You'd rubbed your hands together, trying to warm up the salve before you touched him. Billy's sides had always been ticklish, but that on top of the sensitivity of healing wounds meant you had to be very gentle with him.

Billy had tried to argue that he could do it himself, but he'd lost that battle, and let you at it.

"C'mere," you'd mumbled. You'd distracted him with a kiss while you moved your hands over some of deeper scars just below his ribs. He'd registered your palms being there, but he couldn't find it in himself to give a shit when your kiss told him he'd be okay.

You dipped your fingers back in the tub of medicine, spread them over a scar on his hip. "You're my favorite person in the whole world, Billy Hargrove." He'd scoffed.

"When I said you could tell me anything, I didn't mean cheesy shit like that."

The sound of the receiver being slammed back down snapped Billy out of his reverie.

Steve looked at Billy, put his hands on his hips. "Okay, Hargrove. Let's do this."

————

You'd parked your car a ways off from the quarry, and rock crunched under your feet as you made towards the edge overlooking the water.

This was the best place for you be be alone that you could think of. The moon was full tonight, the light shining over the water. It was beautiful in the way that the lights in the mall had been beautiful that night last summer.

You paced, waiting for him. The bat was heavy in your hand as you swung it back and forth, what with the nails jammed into the wood, listening to the swooshing sound it made in the night air.

You weren't entirely sure why you'd brought it, but the idea of coming out here empty handed felt unbelievably stupid.

Fog was rolling in over the water. Fitting.

And there he was. Big and writhing and evil. An image of Billy screaming flashed through your mind. Vecna had done that. Hurt your pretty baby.

"What are you doing out here, Y/N?"

"Thought we could have a little chat, you and me."

"Is that so? What makes you think you're so special as to get that kind of treatment?"

"Nothing, really. Thought we could make a deal. You seem to like me a whole lot, what with the trauma and all. I was thinking you take me. Leave Max and everyone else alone. I think you've had plenty of fun already."

"Oh, but there's always so much more fun to be had, Y/N."

But you'd caught that shift in his demeanor. Vecna hadn't expected you to give yourself up. Chrissy had run for her daddy. Fred for the hills. Patrick thought his friends could pick up the slack. But you. You were so different. So enticing.

You'd caught Lord Vecna off guard. Eddie would think it astronomically badass.

Your thumb shifted Billy's ring around your middle finger, the other hand still swishing Nancy's bat.

"I think it's pretty solid. Take me and do whatever it is that you think you need to do to feed that ego of yours. But stay the fuck away from my family. They've had enough."

"Yeah they have." Steve's voice. Steve's voice. You turned your head in time to see Billy hand the brunette a lighter before Vecna was alight, struggling for you, for anything.

But he looked shocked at the arrow that pierced his chest, and knocked him backwards. A fucking arrow. It had been Robin. The group of you gathered to watch Vecna fall. It was almost poetic, considering the way Henry had ended up in his alternate dimension.

Not so much when you mumbled, "Where the fuck did you get a bow, Buckley?"

"I tried to take up archery in middle school," she shrugged.

You watched Vecna burn from above, his body having impaled a stalagmite at the edge of the quarry floor. It felt almost ethereal.

You spun around, suddenly remembering that Billy was there. He was looking at you, but he was practically fuming. You hadn't seen him that angry in a long time. The rest of the group noticed, but Steve spoke first. "I think we oughta go make sure he's like, for sure, cooked."

Nancy eased the bat from your hands and smiled before pattering away.

"Billy, I--"

"Don't, Y/N. What the fuck were you thinking coming out here, huh?" He was an animated arguer, a hand gesture accompanying every frustrated word. But you didn't miss the glaze over his eyes. He'd obviously been worried sick.

"Oh, I don't know Billy, maybe that if he took me, that it wouldn't be Max. That it wouldn't be Dustin, or Eddie, or Steve's funeral that I'd be going to. That it wouldn't be fucking you lying dead somewhere!"

You'd moved closer to him in your haste.

"One sacrifice is better than a handful, Billy."

"No, Y/N, it's not!" Billy shouted, his words echoing around you. "If you die and I live, I'd have nothing. You have people that depend on you."

Billy's words knocked the wind out of you. You couldn't breathe.

"Billy."

"It's different for you. Your family needs you. Nobody needs me."

You stepped in front of him, taking his hand in yours. "I do. I need you."

A tear slipped down Billy's cheek, and you reached out to hold his face. He leaned into the weight of your palm, trying to control his breathing.

"Were you ever gonna tell me that you felt this way?" You asked him.

"Were you gonna tell me about Max or this Vecna creep or that you obviously thought it was okay for you to go off getting yourself killed?"

"Billy."

"Tell me. I need to know."

"Billy, I think you've got it all wrong. If I die, the rest of the group will go on. Steve and Robin and all of the kids. It doesn't make a difference if I'm here or not. I thought that by doing this, I could somehow fix it for them. For you. Make sure that your lives would be somehow different. Safer. That I'd be worth something."

"But you are. To me. You think I keep you around for no reason, Y/N? It's not like I love you or I need you or anything?"

"Yeah but I'm sure you c--"

"No, I fucking couldn't. There's no one else out there for me. Not one as good as you. As badass. You were shit talking him, weren't you?"

Billy laughed, but that didn't stop the tears laving over his freckles.

"Yeah. But, Billy, you gotta know that Max needs you. That Lucas needs you. Who's gonna teach him to be better than Steve, huh? Robin needs you. She wants to grow out a mullet, you know. I need you, Billy."

Billy wrapped his arms around your back, firm and warm.

"We're such fucking losers."

"Welcome to the club!" Robin's voice made you jump, and Billy's hand absentmindedly rubbed your back to soothe you.

"Shit, Rob! How long have you guys been back up here?"

"Long enough to hear all about your shared trauma." Nancy said, clapping her hands together happily.

Billy rolled his eyes and kissed you, his lips chapped and a little salty, but comforting nonetheless. He couldn't give a shit if Robin was making gagging noises behind him.

God, the two of you were so fucked up. But you were more than happy to be fucked up together.

————

please let me know if you liked this! feedback is always appreciated!! comments and reblogs mean more than you know. <33

tagging just to be safe: @zaypay

[s-sugustar]

ʬʬ: ̗̀➛ synopsis: You could never be happy.

ʬʬ: ̗̀➛ pairing: Modern! Eren Yeager x black! fem! reader

ʬʬ: ̗̀➛ cw: death, angst

ʬʬ: ̗̀➛ author's notes: took me about an hour to write this or less -. not proofread, oh and first fic since i’ve deleted everything from before .

I'm scared

Eren knew he was going to die soon. His health wasn't getting any better but he tried. No matter how much medication he took, or treatments he had, the cancer was not going away anytime soon.

He hated himself for not seeing the signs, not paying attention to how quickly he'd lose his breath or how he'd cough up blood once in a while. He always talked about how he wanted to die young and well, quite unfortunate but he got what he thought of constantly.

Eren knew you hated hospitals for a long time, even when you had a skating accident a couple of years back, they had to sedate you before taking you to the hospital because you fought with everything in you not to go.

The slow beeping of monitors or the scrubbed tiles that reeked of bleach just reminded you of death in some instance. Or maybe it was because it was the place your mother died when you were six. She had a heart problem, the doctors never stated what it was; all they did was kept it brief with you and your father.

You cried that day, the one person you had been extremely close with. The one you made cookies with every Saturday night to take to church on Sunday. The one who read you 'Princess and the Frog' every single night till you knew the story word for word. She was your rock, the one who shushed you when you fell and others had laughed but she, oh she told you that it was okay, and she kissed the bandage every single time.

In the back of my mind, you died

When Eren told you the news, everything around you slowed. The ticking of the old wall clock became slower, the hairs on the back of your neck raised and with the blink of an eye, you were back in the same hospital room when they covered your mother's dead body with a white cloth. Only this time, it wasn't your mother, but it was Eren.

When you got away from your thoughts, you looked back to him in fear and hurt. Seems like the universe wasn't on your side anymore, if at all. Although you barely cracked a smile towards him, you knew he could see past everything you had built up. "I'm sorry y/n."

Work was quiet when Eren wasn't around, and silence was something you didn't like. You saw Jean and Connie every day at work and you enjoyed their company, truly, but you felt as though something had been missing. You knew what it was but you refused to acknowledge it too. When you first visited him, it had been the 6th of November, outside was bright but chilly in contrast to how the room you were in felt.

You felt squeezed, hopeless and everything within the room was making you sick but you stayed, just for him. You saw how much paler he had gotten when he was first admitted, the bags under his eyes seemed to darken than before and well his breathing...he needed a mask wherever he went. He was in pain and there was nothing you could do about it, just like your mother.

It was inevitable but you knew he wouldn't be here much longer, so you stopped visiting him. Afraid that it may be the last time you'd see him. Although impractical, you thought it was best, especially after the last visit.

"The doctors said that there isn't much they can do now." He whispered, his head laid in your lap as you drew small shapes onto his shaven head, somewhat soothing the both of you as you heard the words that fell from his lips and his reaction to what he had said. You paused in your administrations causing Eren to look you full in the eyes, a distant look in his eyes. You stared at him, contemplating what to say but he had beat you to it.

"I wish we had more time together, just you and I. I wish things didn't end up this way because I know how scar-." You couldn't bear to hear the rest of what he had to say so you shut him up with a kiss. Sinking deep making him whine in desperation for more. After pulling away, Eren sat up before reaching under his pillow to hand you something, a letter to be exact. You looked at him in confusion before he answered, "I want you to open it the day after my funeral."

and I didn't even cry, not a single tear

The funeral was short or at least it had been for you. You couldn't bear to look at him lying peacefully in the casket, you just couldn't. You barely had anything left in you after you said what was laid on your heart to say. It was too much for you to handle, so much so that right after your speech, you walked out, not looking back as you headed to your car in tears.

You laughed on the way home, wasn't funny how gloomy and quiet outside had been? Some say that the earth could feel when we lost someone. Oh, the irony. The trees didn't sway from left to right nor did the sunshine. Quite the opposite you'd say. When you made it to your room, the first thing you did was glance at the letter that had been sitting on your desk since your last visit; the last time you saw him. You couldn't wait till tomorrow to open it so you took it out now.

I wonder what the letter said.

[dwobbitfromtheshire]

The Vampire Bandit

Summary: Instead of a raccoon messing with her trashcans, Vickie finds a supposedly dead Eddie Munson hiding amongst them. She ends up hiding him in her house, and they bond over her cousin, Chrissy. Rovickie with a side of Steddie.

When Vickie heard about the members of Hellfire being hunted down, she had been furious even more so when she heard they were doing it in Chrissy's name. Her cousin wouldn't have wanted that, and she felt so much anger for Chrissy as well as Hellfire, as well as Eddie. Vickie wanted to do something, anything, but she didn't know what to do. It wasn't just for Chrissy, though. She knew that some of those guys were Robin's friends, too. She didn't know what Robin did, but during the manhunt something went down. The police had cleared Eddie of any wrongdoing, but there was still an ongoing investigation, then shortly after they announced Eddie's death.

"In the woods, I just - I felt so safe with him," Chrissy had said.

That's what she told Vickie, one of the last words she had said. Vickie cried as she hung up the phone. She wasn't upset that she had just ended her on/off relationship for good. It was the fact that she couldn't pick the phone back up to tell her cousin about it. She would never talk to Chrissy again. Vickie let out a sob and leaned against the wall, letting it hold her up. Suddenly, there came a loud crashing sound outside, and she straightened up. She glanced at the phone. Her dad had gotten called into work, and so, she was here all alone. She grabbed the baseball bat from the hall closet and stepped out the back door. Vickie did the stupid thing they all did in horror movies.

"Hello?" She called out.

There was a rustling sound from the trashcans. Vickie sighed. It was probably just a raccoon or opossum. She didn't drop the bat, though, as she moved closer. She moved the trashcans and found a bloody Eddie Munson laying behind them.

"Stay away from me!" Eddie whimpered.

She froze for a moment, unsure of what to do, and then knelt down next to the trashcans.

"Eddie," Vickie said softly. "I'm not going to hurt you. I never believed that you did any of those things."

"I-I'm different," Eddie said.

"Yeah, I heard those rumors, but I would be a hypocrite, Eddie," Vickie admitted, smiling as she thought about Robin.

"Y-you're a vampire too?" He sniffled.

"What?! Um. . .no. I, uh, was talking about something else," Vickie said, blushing.

Eddie moved forward, and Vickie could see his face as he moved out of the shadow. His face was glistening with tears, and his mouth was covered in blood. His skin was gray, his eyes red, and she could see fang peaking out of his mouth.

"I drank a raccoon," Eddie said sadly. "I like raccoons. They have little hands and built-in bandit masks. I was just so hungry."

He started crying, and she realized he was lying next to the dead raccoon. It was hard to be scared of this man.

"Okay. Well, how about we bury him, pay our respects, and then we get you cleaned up?" Vickie asked.

"Yeah, okay," Eddie sniffled and cradled the body into his arms.

After they buried the body, there was a moment of silence, and then Vickie brought him inside to let him use her shower. She left some of her dad's old clothes out for him and waited in the kitchen for him. He walked back, looking much better. His skin was less gray, his eyes were now brown, and his fangs had slid back into place.

"So, this must freak you out?" Eddie asked.

"Um, yeah, a little, but I want to help you," Vickie said. "Is there anyone that I should call for you?"

"They all think that I'm dead," Eddie replied.

"Then we should definitely call them," Vickie said with wide eyes.

"I don't know . . . I'm not sure if I'm ready to face them yet. Listen, I'll get out of your hair," Eddie said. "Thank you . . . "

"Vickie. Vickie Fisher," she replied.

"Thank you, Vickie," Eddie said. "I'll be going now."

"Eddie! I can't let you go out there! Look, you can stay here for a few days until you're ready," she said.

"Why?" Eddie asked suspiciously.

"Well, one, even though you've been cleared by the public, there are still people in town who are out to get you," Vickie said. "And two, you really shouldn't be alone right now."

"Uh, what about your parents?" Eddie asked.

"Well, since my mom died, my dad hasn't stepped foot in the crafting shed. He doesn't have to know," Vickie said. "Come on."

She smiled and led him out back to a blue wooden shed that looked more like a small house.

"Okay, when you said shed, I was thinking more like, well, a shed and not a really tiny house," Eddie said, and Vickie laughed.

"My mom wanted a place to craft her jewelry," she said. "So, my dad built this for her."

"Aww, that's love, man," Eddie said.

She unlocked it and welcomed him inside, turning on the light. There was a small couch in the corner, and next to it was her mom's crafting station. Some of her toys were in here, and a sweater of Chrissy's that she had forgotten lay on a hook. Vickie smiled a sad but fond smile as she recalled all the times they played in here while her mom worked. Sometimes, they even helped her.

"Aww, is that you and your mom?" Eddie asked as he looked at a board filled with photos. "You look like her."

"Yeah," Vickie replied with a shrug. "I don't know. Most people say I look like my dad."

"I see it in the eyes and the smile," Eddie shrugged. "Wait. . .is that Chrissy?"

Vickie glanced at the picture of a young Chrissy and Vickie.

"Yeah," she paused, sucking in a painful breath. "She's my cousin."

"Fuck," Eddie said and looked at her. "I am so sorry."

"Why? You didn't kill her," she replied. "The last time we talked, she was telling me all about your meeting in the woods. The last thing she told me was how safe she felt with you, and if she said that, then it was probably true. "

"Shit," he said and rubbed his eyes.

He pulled her tightly into a hug. They stood like that for a while, holding each other tightly as they cried.

"Helping you out is the least that I could do, Eddie," Vickie said, as she pulled back from the hug.

Getting Eddie settled and hiding him from her father wasn't a problem. He was a doctor, so he worked a lot anyway. The next couple of days flew by, and Eddie was still with her. He would occasionally sneak out at night to feed on animals, having figured out how to do it without killing them. Besides that, Vickie was actually having a lot of fun spending time with him and getting to know him. They talked about Chrissy, and Vickie told him about what it was like growing up with her. She told him about the fallout between their parents. She told him about how Laura Cunningham hadn't even allowed her own brother and niece into the funeral.

"Oh!" Vickie exclaimed, putting her spoon back into the bowl.

They were currently talking at the kitchen table and eating ice cream when Vickie recalled the notebook that Chrissy had left in her room.

"Brain freeze?" Eddie asked, sympathetically. "Thank God, I don't get that anymore. . . OH! OW! I spoke too soon!"

"I'll be back," she said and ran out of the room.

She came back and threw a notebook down in front of him. It was covered in butterfly stickers.

"What's this?" he asked.

"It's Chrissy's," Vickie replied. "It's filled with her drawings. She used to do it all the time before her mother sucked the life out of her."

"Uh, I don't know about this," Eddie said.

"She'd want you to look at them," she said softly.

Eddie carefully opened the journal, looking through drawings of flowers and butterflies that Chrissy always loved to draw. There were also a couple of drawings of Vickie and her mom. Matilda Fisher had been more of a mother to Chrissy than Laura ever had. She knew how hard it had hit Chrissy when she died and spent the next couple of weeks living in Vickie's room. When Laura forced her to stop coming over so much, Chrissy spent much of her time running away and disobeying Laura. Eddie had laughed at that and paused at a drawing in the notebook.

"This is me," Eddie said. "This is me at the talent show. She acted like she didn't remember me."

"It's because she had a crush on you for the longest time," Vickie said. "She was either trying to hide it, or she was making a move on you."

"You're saying that I had a shot with her?" Eddie asked, raising his eyebrows and blinking rapidly. "Fuck."

"Yeah. . . sorry," she said softly.

"Yeah, I can draw too, although nowhere near as beautiful as Chrissy," Eddie said.

"I can't draw for shit. I like to write though. Me and Chrissy used to talk about creating children's books together," Vickie said sadly. "It was always our plan after high school."

"Sorry," Eddie said softly and Vickie glanced at the phone on the wall. "I noticed you keep staring at the phone. Expecting a call?"

"I gave Robin my number the other day and I thought for sure that she would call but I don't think she's going to. Maybe she lost the number or maybe she doesn't . . . " Vickie started to ramble and quickly stopped.

"Wait, Robin Buckley?" Eddie asked and then he grinned. "Your heart is racing awfully fast. Wait. . . is that the rumor thing you were talking about? Yeah, that one isn't true. I mean, it's alright if you are."

"Hmm, I would have figured with the way that you were talking about Steve Harrington the other day," Vickie said.

"Well, I mean, it's just a surprise how much of a good guy he because all that I've heard about him is that he's an asshole from other people. It's stupid now because I normally don't listen to rumors. It was just easier to think that he was a jerk like some of the jocks that bullied my friends, you know? Steve Harrington, not a jerk? No, nope, no way! So, not only is he pretty on the outside, but he's pretty on the inside, too. I mean, yeah, if I were a girl, I would totally date him," Eddie said, scoffing and bit into a scoopful of ice cream. "OW! Brain freeze."

"Wow, I don't think even I rambled that much before," she squinted her eyes at him. "Eddie, you know you don't have to be a girl to date him. Eddie, you do know about gay people right?"

"I know gay people exist," he laughed. "You're sitting right next to me."

"Eddie . . . ," she giggled. "I'm bisexual."

"Pardon?" he asked.

"I like guys and girls," Vickie said.

"Oh. . .oh . . . OH! I do NOT have a crush on Steve Harrington! Nope!" Eddie said, shaking his head and staring at his bowl of ice cream for the longest time. "Jesus H Christ! I have a crush on Steve."

"So, how many guys have you said, 'oh, if I were a girl, I would date him' about?" Vickie asked.

"Shut up, Fisher, it's not funny. I just accepted the fact that I'm a vampire and now I'm having a sexuality crisis," Eddie pouted. "Let me freak out in peace, please."

The phone rang, and Eddie grinned gratefully. Vickie answered the phone and held back a squeal when it was Robin who was on the other end. About halfway through with talking to her, Vickie realized that she was keeping a giant secret from her, and she felt her heart rate pick up in a bad way. Eddie must have picked up on it, too, because he cocked his head to the side and looked at her in concern. Vickie hung up the phone.

"Robin just invited me to hang out with her over at Steve's place tonight," Vickie said. "She said that it was a last-minute thing and I said I would go. They're having a little get together."

"Okay, why are you making it out to be a bad thing?" Eddie asked.

"You have to go! I can't keep something like this from her!" Vickie pleaded.

"We've had this conversation," he rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, and I told you it's stupid," Vickie sighed.

That had been a difficult conversation when he sat down and told her what happened, how they narrowly avoided the entire town being split open. He had told her about Vecna and how Chrissy died. That had been difficult, and Vickie was pretty sure that she would have nightmares for life. He had told her about dying himself and about how when he awoke Vecna tried to make him his minion. Eddie was no one's bitch and so, Eddie killed him which didn't take a lot of power because he pretty much had one foot in grave already. Eddie still felt guilty about not following the plan and was worried about how'd they would react to him being a monster.

"I'm a coward, Vick, I'm just not ready," he said, looking at her with big brown eyes. "Please."

"Fine, but you owe me," she replied and kissed him softly on the forehead. "Idiot."

"Good luck with Robin!" he said cheerfully.

Vickie cursed Eddie all the way to Steve's house. With her heart pounding out of her chest, she walked up to his door and knocked. Steve answered the door.

"Hey, Vickie," Steve said.

"I didn't realize that Steve Harrington knew my name," she said teasingly.

"Well, Robin did mention that she invited her friend, Vickie, over to my house," Steve shrug.

"I was going to say that you were a really good guesser or that you're psychic," Vickie laughed.

"Oh, yeah, totally psychic," Steve laughed awkwardly.

Oh, right. Eddie mentioned something about that they knew a girl with superpowers. Shit, she was already putting her foot in her mouth. Steve let Vickie in and showed her to living room where there were a bunch of kids as well as Robin. Vickie grinned when Robin's eyes lit up at the sight of her. She hopped over to Vickie and moved to hug her but then pulled back. She stuck her hand out and then yanked it back. Vickie laughed and hugged her.

"Thanks for inviting me," Vickie said.

"You're welcome," Robin said, blushing. "I'm glad you could make it."

"Thanks," Vickie smiled.

She was about to say something else when a curly haired boy in a hat approached them.

"You must be Vickie, Robin's friend? You know, Steve is single - ," the boy started to say.

"NO!" Vickie exclaimed and blushed.

"Well, that was a little quick. I'll have you know that Steve is - ," he started to say.

"Dustin!" Steve exclaimed.

"It's not that there's anything wrong with Steve," Vickie said quickly. "It's just that I just broke up with my boyfriend and I like someone else."

"Damn, sorry, Steve," Dustin said.

"How about apologizing for interfering in my love life and Vickie's?" Steve asked and then softly. "I appreciate what you're trying to do, buddy, but it's not necessary."

"It's just that ever since Nancy - ," he said.

"It has nothing to do with Nancy!" Steve exclaimed. "Now, we're trying to have a good night here, I do not want to be thinking about my love life."

Vickie noticed that there was a sadness in his eyes like he was missing someone who was no longer here. She wondered if Eddie was the only one who felt the same. The guilt that was eating at her grew a thousand fold as she watched Dustin hug Steve and then pulled back.

"Sorry, Vickie, we went through a lot recently, and I just want Steve to be happy," Dustin said. "We lost Eddie."

Vickie felt like someone punched her in the stomach, and she gave a nervous grin.

"I get it. I just lost my cousin, Chrissy," Vickie said.

Everyone turned to look at her. Robin looked at with wide eyes.

"I didn't know Chrissy was your cousin," Robin said softly.

"Yeah, Chrissy's mother didn't want it to be public knowledge, completely embarrassed by the fact that she's related to me that she didn't even let me go to the funeral. It's okay, I have my dad and this new friend. Who's been really great, and even though he's been in my life for like three days, I couldn't even imagine my life without him," Vickie said. "You know, if someone doesn't stop me or I don't stop myself when I get like this, I just keep talking."

"Hey, Robin's the same way," Dustin grinned, and Robin hit him. "So, is this guy the one you like? Just kidding! No interfering."

"Because I like you, I'll tell you that no, definitely not. In fact, the idea makes me shudder. Not because of who he is as a person, but because the idea of romance is just. . . Icky," Vickie said, and she could feel Robin smiling at her.

"Would you say this guy is your platonic soulmate?" Robin asked, and Dustin groaned.

"Oh, I like that! Who's yours?" Vickie asked, and Steve nudged her, wiggling his eyebrows. "Oh, that's cute! Can I use that?"

"Absolutely!" Robin exclaimed.

"Can we watch the movie already?" A pale boy asked.

"Does he always scowl like that?" Vickie leaned in to whisper to Robin.

"Yeah, that's Mike. He has a very serious disease. He has Astickuphisbuttitis, a very serious condition that mostly affects teenagers," Robin said and Vickie giggled.

"Oh, I heard about that. I think you need surgery for that," Vickie said seriously. "And I should know. My dad's a doctor."

Robin giggled, and Vickie couldn't help but think about how beautiful she was when she did that. She watched her lips as she introduced the others: Will, El, Lucas, Max, Nancy she knew, Jonathan, and Argyle. Once the introductions were over, Vickie made sure to settle down next to Robin. Max grinned at Steve as she put in the tape. Everyone in the room laughed in Steve's direction when it was revealed to be Mr. Mom.

"Seriously?!" Steve exclaimed.

The kids all laughed and shared a look before looking back at him.

"We love you, Mr. Mom!" They said in unison.

"Yeah, love you too, assholes," Steve said, as he threw a pillow at them.

He was smiling fondly at them, zero heat behind his words.

"In case you didn't get it, there's a running joke that Steve acts like such a mom," Robin whispered to her.

"Yeah, I got it," Vickie giggled.

During the movie, Vickie inadvertently ended up leaning closer towards Robin and hearing Steve whisper something to her.

"I wish Eddie were here," he whispered, his voice thick.

"I know, Steve," Robin whispered back. "I know."

With a lump in her throat, Vickie struggled not to cry. She felt sick to her stomach. She leaned over to whisper to Steve.

"Hey, Steve, I just remembered that I need to call my dad. He's working the night shift, and if I don't call him, he'll get so busy that sometimes he'll forget to eat," Vickie whispered.

"Sure," he said. "It's in the kitchen."

Vickie hurried to the kitchen and picked up the phone to dial her home phone, hoping that Eddie would hear it. With his vampire hearing, he should. A few rings later and Eddie picked up the phone.

"Heeelllllooo?" Eddie asked.

"Hey, it's Vickie," she said.

"Hey, Gingersnap, how's it going with Birdie?" Eddie asked.

"Is there someone around that you need to use codenames?" She asked with a giggle.

"Nah, just trying out nicknames," Eddie replied.

"I don't think I can keep this up," Vickie said. "I can't keep lying to them. They really miss you, and it's breaking my heart. I don't think they're going to care as long as they know you're alive."

"I miss them too, but what if they try . . . " Eddie trailed off.

"Then I'll stand in the way," Vickie said.

"I can't ask you to do that," Eddie said.

"Well, it's a good thing you're not asking me," she replied.

"Vickie," he said softly.

"Look, they've been through so much because of Vecna this might just be the thing that puts some of their broken pieces back together," Vickie said.

"Okay, okay, but can we do it tomorrow?" He asked.

"Fine," she sighed. "I've got to go. Stay out of trouble."

"You know me," Eddie said in amusement. "Bye!"

Vickie chuckled and hung up the phone. She turned around, and her heart leaped in her throat when she saw Robin standing there looking confused. There was also a little bit of distrust in her eyes and Vickie hated that.

"What did you hear?" She asked meekly.

"Something about Vecna and broken pieces," Robin said. "What the hell? Who told you about Vecna?"

"I can't tell you that," Vickie said wincing.

"Why?" She asked.

"Because you won't believe me unless you see it for yourself and the proof is at my house," Vickie said. "I was asked by my friend not to say anything like a personal request because he meant a lot to Chrissy, and I trust this guy. And I really hope you trust me too because I really like you. Like, I don't mean any harm, and this guy doesn't mean any harm. I'm not like out to get you or anything. If you want to come to my house to see him. I'd have to call him and tell him a change of plans."

"This guy. . .is he your platonic soulmate?" Robin asked softly.

"Yeah, I think so," Vickie said, biting her lip.

"So. . .you like me, huh?" Robin asked.

"Yeah," she said.

"In what way? As a friend or. . . .?"

"Oh, definitely not a friend."

"Good."

Robin cupped her face and kissed her. Vickie squealed against her mouth, and Robin laughed as Vickie kissed her back eagerly. Robin gripped her hips, picked her up, and set her on the counter. She stepped in between her legs as she kissed Vickie with the same amount of enthusiasm, her lips soft and wet against hers. Vickie felt hot, her heart racing as she squeezed Robin's hips with her legs, and she thrusted her hips. Robin's tongue pressed against her lips, and Vickie moaned, opening her mouth as she allowed Robin entry. Robin's hand was pressed gently against her throat and slowly moved down until her fingers slid under her blouse. She paused on the first button, almost questioningly, and Vickie nodded. Robin popped the first couple of buttons and slid her hand into her shirt. Robin broke the kiss and moved her lips to her neck, her hand moving under her bra to cup her breast. Suddenly, Robin pulled away from her like she had been burned, her eyes wide.

"I forgot where we were for a moment," Robin said. "The kids could walk in at any moment."

Vickie giggled, her lips feeling very swollen. Part of her shoulder was exposed, and her bra strap was hanging off her shoulder as well. Her skirt had ridden up. Robin looked just as thoroughly kissed out as she did. Vickie squeezed her legs together. God, she wanted to wrap her legs around Robin's head, and she was ready to actually do so if Robin didn't stop looking at her like that.

"What?" Vickie asked.

"You're so sexy," Robin giggled.

Suddenly, the door swung open, and Vickie squealed as she started fixing her clothes as Steve walked in. Robin hurried to stand in front of her.

"Woah!" Steve exclaimed and started to walk out.

"Wait, Steve, I need to talk to you," Robin said.

"Uh, okay, am I supposed to ignore the fact that Vickie's buttoning her shirt?" Steve asked and placed a hand over his eyes. "If you want me to talk you through anything, I'm not doing that. We have to have some boundaries, especially with the kids in the other room. God, Robin."

"What?! No, dingus!" Robin exclaimed, and Vickie giggled.

"I'm decent now," Vickie exclaimed as she straightened her skirt, and Steve removed his hand.

"I have completely forgotten what I needed to say. My head's all foggy," Robin giggled, and Vickie leaned in to whisper in her ear. "Oh, right! Vecna!"

"Robin!" Steve screamed.

"Oh, she already knows because her platonic soulmate told her, and now we need to go to her house to see for ourselves," she said and paused. "I trust her."

"You do?" Vickie asked.

"I wouldn't have stuck my tongue in your mouth if I did," Robin replied. "You said this will put some of our broken pieces back together, right?"

"Yeah," Vickie said softly.

"Then let's go to your house," Robin said. "Call him first, though."

Vickie squealed and kissed her before hopping off the counter. She grinned when she heard Robin whispering and giggling with Steve as the phone rang.

"Change of plans," Vickie said when Eddie picked up.

"Ookay?" Eddie asked.

"Uh, Robin overheard me so we're all coming over," Vickie said.

"Well, it is your house," Eddie sighed. "I guess I have to face the music eventually."

"So, you'll be there?" She asked.

"Yeah."

They walked back into the living room, and Vickie watched as Steve turned off the TV. Immediately, everyone started complaining.

"What the hell, Steve?" Max asked.

"Change of plans. We're all going over to Vickie's," Steve said.

"Why?" Nancy asked.

"I have a surprise for you all," Vickie said. "And it's a good one!"

"And it can't wait until the movie is over?" Lucas asked.

"Nope!" Steve exclaimed. "She promised to explain when we get there."

"Why can't she tell us now?" Mike asked.

"Because it's something you won't believe until you see it for yourself," Vickie said.

"If Vickie says she has a good surprise for all of us, then she does. I trust her," Steve said. "Let's go!"

Vickie drove to her house with Robin in the passenger's seat. She was relieved that everything was going to be revealed, but she was still a little nervous. Suddenly, Robin took her hand and laced their fingers together. Vickie grinned. She felt a little less nervous. She pulled into her driveway and walked with Robin to her front door. She paused and waited for everyone to crowd around her.

"I just want to say that my friend is probably more scared of you and himself than you are of him," Vickie said.

"Okay," Mike scoffed. "Can we go in now?"

Vickie bit her tongue, but she so wanted to say that her dad was a doctor and she could get him to remove that stick for free. She decided not to say anything. She opened the door and went in with everyone following behind her.

"Hello?" Vickie called out softly. "We're all here. It's okay."

She heard the shuffling of feet, and then Eddie walked into the room. He was wearing a blanket over his head, completely covering his face and part of his body.

"What the hell?" Steve asked.

"Seriously?" Vickie asked with an amused sigh and Eddie shrugged.

"Uh, there's no reason to be scared of us. We're not going to hurt you. Mike might scowl you to death, but he doesn't mean anything by it," Robin said, and the blanket snorted. "That's just his face. He's really a teddy bear."

Vickie sighed and moved under the blanket to join Eddie.

"Okay, we're going to do some breathing exercises, okay, and then we're going to come out from under the blanket together. Okay?" Vickie asked, and he nodded.

Vickie and Eddie breathed in together and then breathed out together, holding each other's hands tightly. She gave him an encouraging look and moved out from under the blanket, expecting him to follow her. He was still under the blanket. She rolled her eyes and started to tug at it, but he was holding onto it. With a sigh, he let go of it, and Vickie took it off.

"Eddie!" Dustin shrieked.

He rushed towards him, and Eddie quickly backed away. Dustin looked hurt, and Vickie rushed forward to explain while Steve put an arm around him. She told them everything about the day she met him. How he was a vampire, how he killed Vecna, and the raccoon he had felt guilty about.

"Eddie," she said softly. "You aren't going to hurt them. We spent days together, and you didn't hurt me not once. You have your hunger under control, Eddie. You don't even have to kill animals to feed off them."

Eddie sighed and opened his arms for Dustin, who ran immediately into them. They hugged for a long time and cried just as long.

"I'm so sorry, man. You shouldn't have had to watch me die," Eddie said.

"You're back now though," Dustin said, sniffling. "I love you."

"I love you too, shrimp," Eddie said.

Once they broke the hug, the other kids rushed forward to hug him. Well, Will, Jonathan, and El simply patted him on the back. Argyle, of course, completely embraced him.

"Hmm, a guy with long hair and stinks of weed," Eddie said with amusement. "You guys trying to replace me?"

"Nah, brochacho, they love you too much to replace you. Besides, I may respect all music, but metal is not my music. It's yours, man," Argyle said. "You're also much cuter than I am, man."

"Hey, you're a handsome motherfucker and I would totally date you," Eddie said, winking at him.

"I am available, dude," Argyle grinned.

Steve coughed loudly. To Vickie's amusement, he was crossing his arms and scowling at them. It was a clear sign of jealousy.

"Glad you're back, Eddie," Nancy laughed.

"So, were you really afraid that you'd hurt us?" Mike asked.

"He cried over a raccoon, man," Lucas scoffed.

"That's true. I mean, it was just a raccoon," Mike said.

Eddie let out a sob and collapsed into the nearest person's arms, which happened to be Steve’s.

"They don't understand how cute raccoons are, Stevie! With their little hands and masks. All they want to do is steal other people's trash. It's not like people are using them. Why can't they just have them, you know?! They're just just little trash bandits," he said, sniffling. "That raccoon was just minding his own business until I came along."

"That's a little bit of an emotional reaction," Max said and scoffed. "I don't know how anyone ever thought you were a killer."

"Uh, yes, I think as a vampire, his emotions might be hightened," Vickie said with a grin.

Eddie wrapped his arms around Steve’s waist and buried his face into his neck. Steve smiled and squeezed him tightly, pressing his cheek against his hair.

"I missed you, big boy," Eddie whispered.

"Missed you too," Steve whispered back.

Eddie moved his head back, and clearly, he was not thinking. He pressed his lips against Steve’s. Nearly everyone gasped. Steve was surprised too, but he responded to the kiss eagerly and cupped the back of Eddie's head.

"Aw, man, the cute ones are always taken," Argyle said.

Eddie and Steve broke the kiss, their faces red.

"Sorry," Eddie said meekly.

"Really? I'm not," Steve grinned.

"Me neither," Eddie said. "If the kids have a problem with it, we can just put them up for adoption."

"We don't!" They exclaimed quickly, and Vickie laughed.

"I think this is so cool!" Duatin exclaimed.

"Really? Because I thought you'd be sad that you'd only get two Christmases instead of three now that your two dads are together?" Max quipped.

"Shut up, Max!" Dustin exclaimed as the other kids laughed.

"I like her," Vickie whispered.

"Hey, if Dustin is Steve and Eddie's kid, does that mean Max is ours?" Robin whispered.

"She does have my red hair," Vickie giggled and Eddie laughed.

"Can he hear us?" Robin asked with wide eyes.

"Yeah, vampire hearing," she whispered.

Robin grinned and put her arm through Vickie's.

A FEW MONTHS LATER. . .

Things were settling down now that Eddie was reunited with everyone, including his uncle. Wayne didn't even care that he was a vampire now. He was just glad that he had his boy back, which Vickie thought was so sweet. Robin was a hit with her dad, who got really excited for Vickie when he found out that she had other friends like her too. He had really taken a shine to Steve and Eddie. So much so that Matthew invited them over for breakfast, which is what they were doing now. They sat around the breakfast table, chatting comfortably when Matthew smiled at his daughter.

"Hey, Vickie, dear?" Matthew asked.

"Yes, Daddy?"

"How come you didn't tell me you hid Eddie in your mother's crafting shed?" Matthew asked, and everyone froze. "I'm not mad."

"You know?" Vickie asked with wide eyes.

"I thought he knew," Eddie said when Vickie glanced at him.

"Just let me know the next time you decide to hide a metalhead in the shed," Matthew said gently. "You know that I'd help you with anything."

"Okay," Vickie said softly. "Sorry, Daddy."

Eddie leaned over to Vickie to whisper.

"So, you're dad's basically the kind of guy who would help you bury a body, isn't he?" Eddie asked.

"Yeah!" Vickie grinned.

"Damn."

[pink-valkyrie-writes]

Hiiii can I request mercy x Fem reader that is refusing to get treated from mercy even though she is really sick and falling around? Maybe she's scared or smth, thank youuuu

I'm back from the dead LMAOO but I missed you guys! A break helped me clear up my head a bit :) but I'm here to deliver a fic for my fav girl <3

"Rest Now, Liebe"

You couldn't tell if it was just Monday blues or the fact it was 04:30 in the morning but...you felt like shit. Looking over you saw your sleeping angel next to you. As much as you didn't want to wake her up, it was time for work. Your throat was feeling sore already...but you'll be fine, you can walk it off.

Though you and Angela work in two different areas of the overwatch base, she still makes her rounds around to make sure you're alright. Her lunchbreak was her favorite since she got to spend an hour with you.

Angela did notice your sluggish movements you were getting ready this morning. Yes, you both get up early, but this has been your morning routine for the 2 years you've been together. You stopped having trouble waking up early after staying with her for the first few months. As your girlfriend she was worried about you, but as your doctor, she could tell you weren't feeling good.

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As soon her wall clock hit 12:00, she got up and went to the mini fridge and grabbed the salad she packed herself the morning. She went to her door sign and flipped it so it would read "The doctor is out! Please come check again in an hour!". She looked at the sign and smiled, you had actually gotten her it as a small part of her birthday gift a while ago.

She went to your usual meet up spot which is a little bench outside by the training rooms, the place where she first met you. Angela saw you already sitting there, slouching a bit. She always scolds you on your posture, sometimes she'll poke fun and say you're her "little shrimp" from how you're sitting. When she got closer, you looked at her with a tired smile, "Hey babe, how is work so far?" you asked, voice sounding nasally.

"I'm fine meine liebe, but are you? You sound sick...Are you feeling okay?" She asked, placing the back of her hand on your forehead. You were definitely burning up. "Oh honey...Let's go to my office, yes? You need to rest," she stated, and you shook your head, "I'm okay! You don't have to worry about me baby," you said, taking her hand off your head and giving her knuckles a kiss. It's a cute gesture to Angela, but Dr.Ziegler hated germs and sickness.

"Well...If you're so fine, then let's walk back to my office and I'll give you a checkup just to make sure you're okay," she said, taking you by the hand and helping you up. You nodded and started walking back with her. Immediately she noticed you quickly out of breath just by standing up. She started to talk about something, but you couldn't really focus on her talking, you just wanted to go lay down in her office. You closed your eyes to try and help you focus, but you ended just stumbling forward and falling on your hands and knees.

Angela gasped and immediately helped you up, "That's it! You're staying in my office for the rest of the day. And you will be taking the rest of the week off! I'll let everyone know so they don't come and bother you with training or mission!" she said, putting your arm around her neck and helping you walk with her, "Nooo, I'm fine! I promise!" you whined.

The both of you made it inside, your girlfriend was basically dragging you at this point. Angela huffed as she saw Genji at her door, "Hey Angela can you hea-"

"Not now Genji!" she yelled, opening her door and bringing you inside. Angela brought you to the nearest medical bed and laid you down. She started to grab medicine and her medical tools. You don't if your sickness it getting to your brain, but it seemed like everything was going in and out and everything was moving so fast.

Angela took your temperature, placed a wet rag on your burning forehead, and fed you your food from earlier so she would be able to give you medicine. She took your food, your favorite she may add, and fork and started to feed you. You slowly ate but at some point, you started gagging, "Okay, I'm done eating..." you pushed the fork away from you. "Oh, meine liebe, my poor baby," she whispered, kissing your cheek. You mustn't be feeling good at all if you're not eating your favorite food.

You whined, "Angie...I wanna go home and be in our own bed..." She gave you a sad smile, "I know you do, but you need to lay down for now," she whispered, brushing your hair out of your face. "Rest now liebe, whenever it's time to go home I will wake up..."

You nodded, feeling yourself slip into sleep slowly. Angela watched over you as you slept, occasionally kissing your cheek and knuckles. She then looked up at the clock.

13:00

She sighed, getting up and going to her door and flipping her sign to read, "The doctor is in!" She looked over and saw Genji sitting on the waiting chairs outside her office. He smiled at her and she sighed, "Come in Genji, what happened this time?" As he was explaining what happened, she felt her eyes rolling into the back of her head.

She wished it was time to go home with you.

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Thank you reading

Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated! :) <3

[thatgenderfluidmonstrosity]

Hurting Is Changing

Little headcanon beforehand that doesn’t have much to do with the fic, but I love it anyway: that Wanderer can wake up with different programming sometimes

Like, maybe he will glitch or experience a nightmare and wake up feeling different.

I think the different versions of him would be the different stages in his life; Proper Puppet (Ei’s Prototype Puppet), Clueless Puppet (Friends with Niwa/Tatarasuna), On The Brink (Friends with Sick Child), Murderer Complex (During Fatui) and Healing (Post-Story Quest)

Now onto the actual fic!

It was a fine morning in the Sanctuary of Surasthana. The birds were singing, the sun was bright, the air flowed softly… Yet something wasn't right.

Nahida found it odd that Wanderer had not yet gotten up from his ‘sleep’. He couldn't really sleep, but she said that to help him feel more human. It was more so… recharging.

He usually woke up before she went for her morning walk, something she did to talk to her people and just feel free. She loved the feeling of the ground under her feet, and the wind on her face. She loved seeing her people, and most of them felt the same. Wanderer never joined her on these walks. He didn’t like the mortal world much, even after his ‘reform’. He hated being reminded of everything in his past. Being amongst the mortals did just that.

“Wanderer?” Nahida knocked on his door.

She had refurnished the Sanctuary so that they could both have places to sleep, and even got a kitchen added for eating. Otherwise, she got her entertainment from going outside and Wanderer… well, she didn't really know what he did when she wasn't there.

She heard no response from him, but didn’t want to just barge it. Wouldn’t that be rude? But what if he was in trouble or hurt?

I could peer into his head… see if he's dreaming… She thought.

She didn’t even have a moment to think before she heard a yell from his room.

“Wanderer!” She exclaimed, barging into the room, where she saw him… crying?

He was sitting up in his bed. He looked scared- no, terrified. His eyes were wide, and his body was still. He was filled with fear.

“Wanderer? Are you okay?” She asked, stepping closer with caution.

His eyes didn’t move, but his mouth did.

She hadn’t noticed it, but he seemed to be speaking. It was just murmurs at first, but as she got closer, she could hear it more clearly, along with the fear that shook his words.

“I- I didn’t mean to- I didn’t- I'm not like that anymore- I don't wanna hurt anyone anymore-” He muttered with fear, his words coming a mile a minute.

“Oh no-” Nahida gasped, rushing over to him.

She reach for his arm but he pulled away, pressed his back against the wall and pulled his arm up to brace himself.

“D-don't-! Don't come any closer-” He shouted, “I'm a monster! I- I am a- mistake- a defect- that's all I am-”

His voice trembled.

This truly worried the Archon as she stepped back to allow him room. He had been doing so well- the traveler was helping him recover and stay on the path of good, and even brought him joy. So what happened? What had caused this?

He must’ve had a nightmare… She thought.

“-thats all I will ever be!” He said it as if he was trying to convince himself rather than tell someone else.

“Wanderer, its okay! You're okay! You're with me, Nahida, remember?” She tried to soothe him.

He seemed to calm down with the mention of her name.

“N-nahida?” He asked, his arm lowering slightly.

“Nahida…” He said again, his eyes taking in every detail of her face.

“I… I killed you too…” He whispered.

It took the Archon a moment to register what he had said.

“You… what?” She asked, taking the moment to step a bit closer.

“You- You were dead- E-everyone was dead- Traveler- all of them-” He started spiraling once more.

“I didn’t want to- I didn’t- I didn’t want to hurt anyone-” He grabbed his head, his fingers digging into his head.

“Hey! Its okay, its okay… Look at me.” Nahida said, climbing onto the bed and taking his hands to hold them.

“I am alive, Wanderer, and nothing bad has happened. I'm okay, and you’re okay…” She told him, looking into his eyes.

His breathing steadied slowly, but soon enough he was able to think clearly.

Nahida helped him out of his room, and into the kitchen area. It wasn’t used much but was good for a snack every once and a while. Like sleep, Wanderer didn’t really need to eat either, but he could anyway. This usually led him to eating whatever-whenever, since it didn’t matter to him.

As he sat at their small but comfortable table, he didn’t really do much. His breathing was shallow, but he wasn't shaking much anymore. Nahida wished that she could read his mind, but knew he would know if she tried.

“How… how did I even dream?” He asked Nahida, who was now preparing some coffee for him.

“I think… maybe it is representative of your growth from a puppet to a human!” Nahida smiled.

“You never told me that the transition would be so… painful… Then again, I suppose I deserve this…”

Nahida looked softly to the boy, who seemed to just be staring off into nothingness. His eyes looked… dead.

“You’re on a long path, Wanderer. But you’re doing wonderfully in your rehabilitation.” She said, giving him the cup of coffee.

“I'm very proud of you.” She smiled, his eyes meeting hers.

“Uh… thanks…” He said, taking the cup and looking away.

She saw his lips curl into a slight smile as he took a sip of the warm liquid.

“You’re quite welcome.”

They sat in silence for a bit till Wanderer put his cup down.

“I know its time for your morning walk. You can go, I’ll be fine.” He muttered.

“Actually, I think I wanna stay in today…” Nahida said, to which Wanderer gave her a suspicious look.

“Okay… Well I don’t really do much when you’re gone…” Wanderer said, taking another sip of his drink.

“Then we can do something together! How do you feel about puzzles?” She smiled excitedly.

Wanderer looked down at the Archon, but not in disgust or hatred… but with wonder.

“I… suppose that would be alright…” He said, standing to wash his now empty coffee cup.

“Great!” Nahida giggled, getting up to go find a puzzle.

Wanderer sighed as she did, standing over the sink. He felt… weird. Warm. But not like fire-warmth. It was different. He fixed himself, standing up straight.

As he heard her leave, his brain started to focus on… other things. Visions from his nightmare. Blood was… everywhere. The more he focused on it, the more the visions seemed to seep into reality.

“Stop it- stop thinking-” He told himself, “It's nothing… It doesn’t matter…” He muttered, running one hand through his hair.

Nahida’s smile disappeared as she turned the corner. She noticed the boys’ stance, his hands over his face… she knew that he likely wouldn’t tell her what was wrong. She hadn’t yet been seen by him, so she wanted to try her luck on reading his mind. She was curious and just wanted to help! So it was fine… right?

She decided to try her luck, reading his mind while he was distracted.

Just as she did, she heard him scoff.

“You aren’t gonna like what you hear.” He mutters, turning around.

“Ah- sorry…” She said, looking down at the puzzle box.

“Its fine… its just… for your own good.” he said, taking a seat back at the table.

“Right. Well then, lets do this puzzle! I got one of the Palace of Alcazarzaray! Built by Kaveh, an amazing architect here in Sumeru!!” She gushed, putting the puzzle on the table and sitting in her chair.

Wanderer watched as she got all of the pieces out and they started to put it all together. He actually found it… a bit calming… The images in his head started to dissipate. He felt better…

Nahida took in his non-brooding expression. She loved that she could help him, and was sure that in no time at all, they would get past the obstacles and he would be healthy and happy.

It’d be a long time till then, she was sure, but she was happy to be able to help. Maybe she could even introduce him to other people at some point, not just the Traveler…

“You’re staring…” Wanderer said, not looking up.

His voice wasn’t mean or annoyed. He was just… fine.

“Right-” She giggled, looking back down.

Wanderer didn’t know what she found funny, but just hearing her laugh… once more, his chest felt warm.

Give it love on Ao3 if you can/want!! :3