#don't let missile's smile fool you

[sunnyaliceart]

Throws a bucket of water at their anime hair

[landboundstar-writing]

Chills

An original story

Nightwing and Zach are on a rooftop patrol. What could happen? SFW - but careful, content warnings.

CW: Dick Grayson (Nightwing)/ Zach Zatara, making out, heart to heart talk, pole dancing, semi-public makeout, discussion of potential self-harm.

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Nightwing blew on his hands as they stood out in the cold.

“Here.” 

A piping hot cup of coffee was pushed at him.

He looked over at Zachary Zatarra, who sipped his own coffee.

“Do you think they'll get systems up and running any time soon?”

Zach laughed. 

Nightwing turned.

“Are you laughing at me?”

“Yes.” Clearly unrepentant, Zach smiled and took another sip. “You grew up fighting a guy who freezes things, you know, when you were doing rooftop patrols. And you are complaining about drawing the short straw for rooftop threat patrol while the systems are down?”

“Yes. You work with your hands. I should not need to explain that cold fingers aren't the most flexible or dexterous. Not to mention that it can reach stakeout levels of boredom. Probably not tonight for that, but have had some rooftop threat patrols like that. ”

“Ooh. Dexterous. Borrowing Jason's books again?”

“Bite me. I don't like swinging around on fingercicles, okay?”

He did not miss the eyebrow that Zach raised as he took another sip of coffee. Which, okay, was still steaming hot and warming his hands as he held on to the cup.

“Seriously. Hate cold hands. Do you know what it feels like to have your hands cracked or throw a punch when it’s freezing?”

“It sucks. Picking locks with cold hands is worse. Especially underwater. Do you need a refill?”

Nightwing shook his head. “No. I'm good. Sorry, but which one of your cousin's enemies stuck you in a box, locked up underwater?”

Zach's smile broadened, the cheerful grin making his face light up. “Me. It's part of my show.”

“Of course it is.” Nightwing rolled his eyes, but he was smiling too. He raised his binoculars to do a scan, but everything was still clear. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Sure.” Zach sounded relaxed, but Nightwing wasn't fooled. The stiffness in his shoulders that hadn't been there before gave it away more than the smile that no longer touched his eyes. “What did you want to ask about?”

“Why do you split time with Titans and Young Justice. You're listed for both teams.”

“Over half of us are on multiple teams. Young Justice and Titans. Young Justice and full Justice League. Whatever Jason is with the Outlaws, Titans, and whichever other group he added.” Zach looked at the water pipe in the middle of the roof, made of sturdy enough metal to survive attacks as it ran the backup water supply in from a rooftop tank. Then, he took a step back and jumped, pulling himself into a human flag with surprisingly little effort. “And if I was better, I might do that. But I like both teams, and I'm not good enough to be full Young Justice let alone Justice League yet.”

“Not good enough? Want to explain that to someone who can't cast magic missile?”

“I told you before, that was a spell deflection, not a magic missile. And it’s simple. Really.” Zach hopped down, circling the pipe in what Nightwing was pretty sure was an imitation of Gene Kelly's Singing In The Rain dance. Zach, Nightwing had to admit had moves. And for a second he was distracted, imagining the two of them dancing together. 

“I can cast spells.” Zach continued, seemingly unaware of Nightwing’s thoughts “But not as well as Zatanna, or Uncle Gio. Or John. Not in the same category as Dr. Fate. Pretty sure even Raven is better than I am at casting, at least with shielding and defensive stuff. So probably not good enough to be full Young Justice, since they are getting ready to be full Justice League. Especially since I'm not as high of a circle as they are.”

“Like, not as high of a skill rank? Like magic belts with karate?”

Zach fidgeted, clearly uncomfortable with the question. “Not exactly. Like, I know why they object to my crossing circles. But I feel John Constantine does not get to lecture me about circle crossing when he has possessed himself with a demon to survive a gunshot wound.”

Nightwing put his hand on top of Zach's, stopping his spinning. “Is it something I could help with?”

There was a snort from the magician. “No.”

“You don't know if you don't ask.”

“Yes, I do.”

“Try me.”

Zach looked at Nightwing “You would help me have a near death experience? Like not breathing, heart skips a few beats, near death experience?”

“No!” 

The idea of Zach not being there hurt. Nightwing hadn’t known that it would hurt that badly until Zach said it, but even the thought was too much.

Zach shrugged. “Told you I knew the answer.” He went to start spinning again, but Nightwing kept his hand on top, gripping onto Zach's hand.

“Sorry for not wanting you to die, Zach. And your power doesn't matter as much as you think. I mean, I can't do what you do. And I'd pick you over Clarion any day, no matter how powerful he is.”

“Wow, thanks.” Zach sounded irritated and took a small step forward. It should have had Nightwing back up a step, should have made him let go of Zach's hands to give him space.

But Nightwing wasn't backing away. They stood, inches apart, with Zach's hand covered by his, still gripping the water pipe.

And standing there, Zach wasn't worried about the cold. Hell, his hands were sweating as new thoughts went through his head, scattering any arguments he might have given. 

Nightwing bumped Zach's hip with his own. “Stop hogging the pipe. I want a turn.”

Zach felt weirdly boneless, his stomach flipping as his grip loosened on the pipe. He stepped back, hoping to feel normal once he backed up. Once his stomach stopped flip-flopping . Once his palms stopped sweating. Once his heart stopped beating so fast.

When Nightwing let go of his hand, he almost felt normal. Almost.

Except for the fact that Zach kind of wanted to feel Nightwing grab his hand again. To keep touching him.

He watched as his fellow Titan climbed up the pipe and hooked a leg around it before flipping himself so that he hung upside-down clinging to the pipe by gripping it with his knees.

“Should I applaud?” Zach asked. 

“If you'd like”. Nightwing answered, grinning up at Zach.

“Is hanging upside-down a bat thing or does your family know you like to play on poles?”

For a moment or two, no one spoke while Nightwing swung back and forth, his hips and abs tensing under his uniform in a way that Zach was having a hard time looking away from. Then, he just let go. He somersaulted forward and Zach stepped back instinctively so he didn't get rolled into.

As soon as he stopped rolling, Zach wryly realized that maybe he hadn't backed up enough because Nightwing came up standing right in front of him. If he stepped forward, even an inch, Nightwing would be standing on Zach's feet. 

But for some reason, he couldn't move back another step. He could not move at all.

“It isn’t just you.”

“What? But N-”

“No, not Nightwing. I mean, yes, I am Nightwing. But that is not my name.”

“But -”

“Say it, Zach.”

“What? Richard? Grayson? Dick? What do you want me to call you?”

“Any of them. All of them. I don’t care. Who do you see when you look at me?”

“N-”

A gloved hand touched Zach’s lips before he lowered his hand to his side again. “Let me take the mask off and try it again.”

Zach knew that the weird sound he made as he gulped had to be audible but he couldn’t help it. Just as he could not stop what he said next as he watched his friend take his mask off.

“Dick, whatever I did, you don’t have to do this.”

“I was wondering what it would take to make you say my name.” He still hadn’t moved away, staying so ridiculously close. “And you’re Zach. Zachary Zatarra. You.”

N - no, Dick took a step forward and there was no space at all.

“You’re making it sound so easy. Even if it was not a big deal when you play with magic. Names matter.”

“Yeah, I get that. I would get that even if I didn’t know Zee and John. And so is being yourself and not someone else.”

Dick wanted to reassure his friend, help him feel better. But he wasn’t immune to the tension rising between him. He wanted to hold Zach, but with how worked up the other Titan was he wasn’t sure how he would react. 

It turned out he didn’t need to wait long at all.

For just a second, listening to Dick, Zach saw red. He felt his temper flare, hot and dangerous and he put his hands against Dick's chest and pushed him.

“Don’t, Don't pretend you get it.”

Dick didn't budge an inch. Instead, his stance shifted so his feet were planted on either side of Zach's and grabbed his hands.

“Don’t pretend I get what, Zach? Comparing myself? I grew up in a performing family. My Dad, my cousin Boston, my mom - they were all better because they had been practicing longer. But, no, I couldn't keep up with them. And then they died and Bruce adopted me. Do you think I didn't compare myself to him, especially once I was Robin? Do you think I don't compare myself to everyone who has abilities? Do you think I haven't been where you are? Comparing myself, afraid to be myself? Afraid to let others see or feel?”

“And would you say that if you knew I didn't want to hit you but instead I wanted to-,” Zach couldn't finish what he wanted to say. His mouth was suddenly dry. He had gone from shouting to whispering, and he didn't know when he had grabbed Dick's hands back. When all distance had disappeared so he just had to move his head and -

They were kissing. Dick was always aware of where his body was, and he had Zach in a fight often enough to know the same was true of him. But there was a shift of heads and their lips brushed each other. And that was enough to set off all the feelings between them. Because that brush of lips was not enough.Soon, they were kissing, hands grabbing at hips while their tongues while their tongues warred.

It wasn’t until they came up for air that Zach noticed the back of his shirt was untucked. And the frigid air on his back brought him back to where they were.

“Stop.”

Without hesitation, Dick backed up. “Sorry, you just looked.”

Zach shook his head, panting out words as he tried to catch his breath.. “That. Later Definitely. More. That. Patrol. Roof. Cold.”

It sounded like caveman nonsense to him, but Dick clearly understood and grinned at Zach.

“Yeah. More later.” He picked up the binoculars. “Got any more coffee?”

They picked patrol up again with electricity sizzling between them while they waited for the power to come back on.

[skylarkking]

"One In The Same"

A TFA Blitzwing x Mech!Reader

Word Count: 1.2k

Chapter 3: Speedway

"Optimus! Decepticons are on my tail!" I called over the comlink as both Blitzwing and Lugnut chased after me. "I'm trying to lead them away!"

"Y/D, get your tailpipe out of there! Now!" Ratchet barked over the comlink. "We're closing in on your position, Prime and the others will handle the Decepticons!"

"But -"

"NO BUTS YOUNG BOT!" There was an uncharacteristic panic to his tone, a tone Ratchet only used when he genuinely thought I was in danger.

And I would be a fool to ignore his words.

I skidded into a drift, locking on the Autobots signal and making a beeline for them. I spotted the group and shifted forms, back flipping with blades ejecting out from between my knuckle joints like the human superhero Wolverine.

"ZERE! MORE AUTOBOTS!" Blitzwing yelled as both Decepticons shifted forms.

"Ratchet, Sari, Y/D! Fall back to the ship!" Optimus ordered.

"Yes, sir." I said.

"THE TRIPLE CHANGER STAYS!" Lugnut barked as he fired his missiles. I shoved Ratchet and Sari out of harms way and barely managed to dodge the missiles. The missiles impacted the ground and exploded in a ball of fire, cutting me off from the others by a billow of dense smoke.

"GO GO GO!" I yelled through the smoke.

"KID!" Ratchet called.

"DONT WORRY ABOUT ME! GET SARI TO SAFETY AND GET THE ALLSPARK OUT OF HERE!" I was tackled by Lugnut and pinned to the ground, my blades slashing at his side and leaving trails of energon in its wake. Lugnut let out a bellow and backed off, Prowl and Bulkhead jumping into the fight along with Bumblebee and Optimus.

As I was about to go help them, Blitzwing cut me off, his arms and wings spreading to shield me from the fight.

"Go." He said.

"What?" I questioned.

"Go with your medic. Before zat oaf notices." I hesitated a moment but nodded and took off after Ratchet and into the water. I quickly found the ship along with the medic and human.

"Y/D? How'd you escape?" Sari asked as I entered the ship and shook off the water.

"It's... complicated." I said. "Have you been able to get the ship online?"

"Not yet because SOMEONE," Ratchet said while shooting Sari a scolding glare. "Doesn't want us to leave and won't listen."

"Sari," I said ever so gently as I knelt down next to her. "Why don't you want us to leave?"

"Because you're my friends... and I don't want to be alone!" She sobbed.

"Sari, I don't think any of us want to leave." I said as I picked her up and gently held her against my chassis. "Primus knows i certainly don't. But if we stay, the Decepticons will destroy this planet and everything on it. Including you."

"But... they can't be that bad?" She sniffled.

"Some might not be." I said as I thought about Blitzwing. "But just like humans, you don't know how dangerous someone can be until they show you their true colors. Ratchet and I have both experienced firsthand the horrors of Megatron and his loyalists. They will stop at nothing to get the Allspark." I gently released Sari from the sort of hug and wiped a tear delicately from her face. "We don't want you or this planet to face the same horrors our world has. Do you understand?"

"I... it's not fair." She sniffled.

"I know, Sari. But when it comes to war well, nothing is fair." My expression softened, and a small smile crept on my dermas. "But you can help make it a fair fight." I hooked my digit under her key and lightly lifted it off of her chest. "The Allspark has given you this gift for a reason, one beyond our understanding. It depends on your just as much as it depends on us. It isn't just the lives that currently exist that are at stake but also those yet to come."

Sari paused a long while as she pondered my words before a smile crept on her face.

"How can I help?"

----

"Ratchet, do you think we can get the weapons system online?" I asked the medic as he rummaged around the command bridge.

"With Sari's key, we can give the ship enough juice to launch something." Ratchet said.

"Then you two should get ready, I'll see if I can -" I suddenly froze up, and my optics went white in color, my expression frozen and distant.

"Y/D?" Sari said as she climbed up a nearby stack of crates and waved her hand in front of my face. "Y/D? Yoohoo?"

No response.

"Ratchet, something is wrong with Y/D!" Sari called to the medic. Ratchet turned around and saw my frozen state, his spark dropping to his tanks at the sight.

"Oh scrap, not now!" Ratchet exclaimed.

"What's happening to him?" Sari asked.

"I don't know, it's happened before."

"What do we do?"

"We can worry about Y/D later. Right now, the others need our help."

While the pair were scrambling about trying to get the weapons system back online, I found myself trapped in my own mind, remembering things that never happened.

Or at least I thought so.

"The Enigma is ready to be transported." I heard a voice say.

"And how many were forged?" Another I recognized as Starscream's said

"Only this one. The Autobots attacked the lab before another could be produced."

"Does it have a spark?"

"It does, and it should be entirely loyal to Megatron as he sees fit."

"Excellent." I then heard a set of pedes walk away, and something touched my face, although I couldn't see anything. "I think I'll make some... alterations to you, hm? Make you serve your true Master."

The white light faded from my optics, and I collapsed onto the ground with a crash at the exact same time Sari inserted her key to power the weapons system.

I heard the firing of the weapons followed by a watery explosion. Then I remembered nothing more.

----

"Kid? Kid!" Ratchet called through the black. "Cmon, I know you hear me!"

"Nnng, why are you shouting?" I grumbled as I opened my optics and found I was back in the Autobot base. I groaned and gripped my helm as a throbbing pain ran through it, my optics sceunching tight and my jaws locking up.

"What happened?" I asked.

"We were getting the weapons charged to help Optimus and the others fight off the Decepticons," Sari said. "And you just... stopped working."

"Yeah, that happens sometimes." I chuckled. "Are the others okay?"

"Yeah, we're fine." Optimus said, pulling my attention to him. "But maybe it's time you took that break Ratchet suggested you'd take."

"I'm fine, Optimus." I said sternly. "Freeze ups happen sometimes. But thanks for your concern." I rose from the medical berth and headed to my quarters where I laid down and stared up at the ceiling with a blank expression.

I thought about the other times I had a freeze up and realized that out of all of them, this was the only time I had something other than a forced shutdown happen.

"What in Primus is happening to me?"

-------

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[leam1983]

On Honesty

Someone on YouTube posted a roast of incel comments and pickup lines so, from the high promontory of my 39 years of existence and grand total of 8 measly years in somewhere between a couple and a polyamory, I figured I'd chime in. I started with how I courted Sarah - or didn't.

I just treated her like any other colleague, mostly. We shot the shit on breaktimes, hung out after hours, drank a few beers and, well, after a year of that, figured we'd drink those beers in a place we shared. I eventually realized time enough had passed for us to be considered a thing, and asked her if we were one between two sandwich bites during a PTO extended weekend.

That earned me a scoff, a smile, a chuckle and a weak sock on the shoulder - followed by a hug. That was essentially it.

Compare and contrast with what I'm reading in some comments, wherein the expected and assertive means of approach seems to consistently revolve around "You're cute, I like to think I'm cute too - let's hook up."

And that just - it really fucks with me. How does that create a relationship in any way, shape or form? It's probably great for one-night stands, but I really can't imagine a woman saying something involving a guy's "forward looks" being the one driving factor that got them from zero to steady over a single evening.

I then contrasted with how I met Walt, and how the big guy was actually glad I didn't make moves too soon. Montreal's Gay Quarter is packed with libido-powered SCUD missiles that either want a one-night cum dump or a semi-permanent cum dump. You know by now that he'd left an abusive relationship and wouldn't open to anything meaningful until several years into my working for my former company. It followed the same pattern as with Sarah: booze and platonic fooling-around until a few particularly boozy suppers between all three of us allowed us to realize that we were compatible with each other.

As I also discussed in other posts, some Gay acquaintances didn't get this. Their money was on Walt pinning me to the bathroom wall a few weeks after our bumping together and forcefully initiating something. That's in total ignorance of the fact that Walt actually wasn't in the right frame of mind to be quite so forward.

What really peeved me is when someone called my approach with Sarah dishonest. As if I'd planned the poly scope of our relationship and had kept her from it, or as if I should've swung for the fences after a few microbrews and five or four Mario Kart rounds.

I discussed this with Walt during the usual Friday Afternoon Dogpile period. Asking him why made him smile.

"I wouldn't have been ready for anything forward, actually. I thought it was really sweet that you showed interest in me for who I am, and even sweeter that you actually refused the first few times I gave you my hand or an arm. It showed me you understood what my doing this meant."

He paused to stroke my cheek. "Love and honesty are slow burns, sport. You pick that up later in life, I think. People who want to feed the fire too quickly are going to consume all their fuel. You didn't. You gave me little wood chips and then blew on them. You weren't just giving me an invitation to love again, but to nurture something."

He smiled. "I don't care if things cool down between all three of us, eventually. I don't care if it stops feeling like our love is the only true constant I've got - I want to be here for the both of you, here and now."

He sets his book on his belly and gestures to shush me for a minute. "Here, listen to Sar for a few seconds," he says.

Sarah's asleep. Her breaths are deep, her snores are soft. Her legs are threading mine and her left hand is reaching across for Walt's. I can feel their respective body heat signatures enveloping me.

"That's love," he says. "What you'll hear once I put my mask on and conk out is pure love, too. Even the racket I make when I yank it off without waking up is pure, unadulterated love. If some jackoff manages to Caveman his way to a couple somewhere down south, good on him. I wouldn't bet a twenty on that relationship's stability, though."

I smile. "So you don't mind that I didn't pull a Chrysler Special on you?"

He squeezes me closer. "You not acting like a Sales Adjunct is the first thing that made me fall for you, Grem. Screw Internet incels - I will love you and Sarah until my dying day."

I sigh and press into his offered one-arm hug. "Teenage Me would've needed this so much..."

He kisses my forehead, his voice already turning a little slurred around the edges as sleep creeps closer. "I would've greeted you at school every morning and carried your bookbags. I would've tried to soothe you and cheer you as needed. I would've used quiet moments to hug you, to make you feel validated. I would've defused every ounce of negativity your well-meaning ignoramus of a father burdened you with. I would've waited for you, Grem, waited for you to grow older, to connect the dots, to realize that all this time, someone truly did love you."

Tears are brimming my eyes, at this point. "I don't fucking deserve you," is all I can muster. Walt settles with an endeared grumble, as if I'm silly for even thinking this.

"I don't deserve you, either. Neither of you," he then says. "That's what makes us work so well."

For once, I'm the one with failing waterworks. In my case, it's a mixture of emotions and general fatigue. Walt responds by closing his side table's light and making me scooch higher so our heads are level on the pillows, and then brings me back in to stroke my back while he closes his eyes.

"I'll always be here for you," he whispers into my ear, turning it into a soft mantra. His stroking motions eventually stop and he transitions to mumbles, and then to deep snores, but it feels like the intent remains in every inhale and exhale. I still feel like crying, mostly because the network switches and cubicle cable runs kicked my ass all week long - and also because I'm so stupidly happy I might start levitating off the bed.

Suck it, incels and redpills - I've got an outboard motor roaring in my ear and every revolution sounds like a goddamn serenade, as far as I'm concerned.

[the-pale-chancellor]

Am I bored? Yes. Shall I be preparing for today's oneshot and not write about my best boi Saer'llith? Also yes but who cares. So you get this. And also a Character.ai bot of him who already has some of these. PLEASE: do NOT rate the messages and note that he's still not fully ready in terms of answering in character (OOC sometimes). You can fully roleplay with him tho. ( https://c.ai/c/X6_sOD4B7EEAAifKBgdaESzDvHjxqC4fMYcPKYFmQ8c ) anyWAY- Some BG3-like responses cuz I'm playing it too much recently.

Voice claims: -Saer'llith: Лампабикт - Кукушка ( https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=a_Nu2i9kjcU ) -Escher: Fish in a Birdcage ( https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_Cg_DkU4j4s )

Friendly Introduction: "I am glad that we happened to meet once more, my friend. I don't often call people, especially humans, my friends yet..You have my utmost trust, and this is all that matters"

Neutral Intro: "Welcome stranger. If you, by any chance, have something to tell me, then go ahead. Though, I doubt that I can help you much with my words only.."

Hostile Intro: "Cut it with your nonsense, human. I'd rather we get to the point if you have something to say."

Combat Initiated: "Let my wild magic be your grave!" / "Humans have always been cruel, what a surprise.." (that's a quote from a song "Время- Grad!ent"). -If Escher is in the team: "..for him my heart will beat" / "If the dawn ever comes, let me be there for you, my Sun"

Combat Victory: "Have I done the right thing?" / "May their death not be in vain" / "Do you recall when the war was just a game?.."

Attack: "Let them fall!" / "Bury the sun!"

Critical Fail/Miss: "Damn it!" / "Concentrate!"

Nat20ed against a BBEG: /quotes raphael/ - "The final act, your doom!" -If fighting against Strahd: "No vampire can stand the sun!" (Would jokingly throw a fireball in his face)

Support/Fallen ally: "No time for sleep" / "I'll take the stand!" -If supporing/reviving Escher: "No..NO!" / "Let my blood course through your veins once more!"

Combat Defeat: "The sun so coveted has faded into the abyss..." / "My magic has consumed me at last, no matter how much I've prayed" -If Escher is in the team: "I lied. My heart (is) no more.." / "May the dawn never come.." / "I'll see you on the other side"

Near Incapacitated: "Even the power of a Lychheir is not omnipotent.." / "Maybe I'll never find my Home after all.."

Received Reward: He would just silently nod actually lmao

Received Gift: Neutral - "Why are you giving this to me? I didn't ask for anything. Gift? I..uh..I've never recieved one.." (he will proceed to gift something back because he feels like he doesn't deserve all of that) Hostile - "I don't need your petty things, gift them to someone else if you want" Gift from Escher - /quietly/ "....Fool" (Would look away and hold the gift as if it is the dearest thing he's ever had. And it probably is anyway. Especially if that's a ring Escher always wears.)

Lost an Item: "I am not as careless, it should be somewhere around the place" / *Stands silently looking into the space* - wellp...

Received Flirt (any flirt for him is unsolicited so I combined the lines): -"Stop this humiliating nonsense!" / "Say/do that again and we'll see just how fast you can run from magic missiles.." -If coming from Escher: "Not in front of everyone, you fool.." / "Hush now.." (Even though he tried to fuss about the whole thing, he would allow Escher to toy with his hair or blindfold, have a little kiss in the neck or even a bite in. Then he would just quietly hold him in his arms, brushing the curls with only his fingertips and warming his cold skin)

Sees Favorite (object/subject): /quietly smiles and leans in to look at it/listen to it closely/

Sees Disliked (object/subject): "Whatever that is, I am not stepping my foot near it" / "I'd better stay away from it as far as I can" /proceeds to fake the little run for his life away from this thing/

Enjoying Activity: /would quietly hum a lullaby to himself until someone interrupts or just step close, making him slightly embarrased/

Disliking Activity: "Never again I am doing something like this, gosh.." / "Ugh...." /goes for his dinasaur hands and pouts/

Waking Up: "Sometimes I forget how cold it is without the sun.." -If Escher is in the team: /would lay for a while by his side, pretending to sleep, only to feel comforted by the one he considers his Home/

Bored/Idle: /stands in one place, sometime fixing his blindfold or casting small magic tricks to entertrain himself. Maybe sings something to himself again/

Preparing to Rest: /he wouldn't spend much time tidying up, knowing well that he wouldn't be able to sleep properly again (either get into trance state or have another nightmare if still in Barovia). He'd rather sit quietly, watching the stars/clouds than engage into any sort of dialogue/

idk what to tag this as but here's a silly thing i made

fill in the blank oc voice lines game! i did these in the perspective of the oc (so like friendly means oc friendly to someone else) but its freeform so yea!

Fill in what your OC would say/do in these situations!

Friendly Introduction:

Neutral Intro:

Hostile Intro:

Combat Initiated:

Combat Victory:

Attack:

Critical Fail/Miss:

Critical Hit:

Nat20ed against a BBEG:

Support Ally:

Flee:

Combat Defeat:

Near Incapacitated:

Received Reward:

Received Gift:

Lost an Item:

Received Flirt:

Received Unsolicited Flirt:

Sees Favorite (object/subject):

Sees Disliked (object/subject):

Enjoying Activity:

Disliking Activity:

Waking Up:

Middle of Day:

Bored/Idle:

Preparing to Rest:

[maysbanks]

hypersonic missiles. (jj maybank)

hello ! some of you may recognise this fic and that’s bc it’s currently being rewritten as an oc fic rather than a reader insert fic which it was before. i can’t wait for you to read this and introduce you all to haley who i love dearly, so pls enjoy and lemme know what you think !!

warnings: swearing, mention of sex, sexual innuendos, drug use, underage drinking, violence etc

summary: after the death of her father, haley grubbs is determined to get the answers her mother seems to be keeping from her, seeking help from a group of pogues (which just happens to include her weekly hook-up) and unknowingly throwing herself into the midst of a treasure hunt.

( gif isn't mine! please let me know if it's yours so i can credit you. )

The gang gathered around John B's porch, spaced out in various positions amongst the furniture. Silence engulfed the group, the air thick with tension as none of the four teenagers dared to speak.

"JJ should be the one to go." Kie broke the silence, her words hanging in the air as the group processed them.

Said boy whipped around in his place, golden hair falling in his sea blue eyes as they widened, glancing wildly between each of his friends. "What?" He demanded. "Why me?"

"Because you're the one that's hooking up with her," Pope reminded, matter of fact. As if JJ needed to be reminded. The dark skinned boy gestured between him and the remaining two. "She's gonna trust you more than any of us."

Kiara and John B murmured their agreement, JJ scoffing as he flapped his arms, beginning to pace in his spot. "This is ridiculous," he muttered between gritted teeth. "She won't wanna talk to me any more than she'll want to talk to you guys. I mean, we've only hooked up like," JJ paused - raising a hand to count on his fingers. "Maybe like, eleven times, twelve at a push!"

Kiara scoffed, rolling her eyes. "Wow, how chivalrous of you to keep count, JJ," she drawled sarcastically, the blonde boy simply shrugging in return as he took his formal position of leaning against the Chateau's wall. "Look, the thing is you know her better than the rest of us. You're familiar, we're not. We can't just go up to her and start asking questions about her dead dad and John B's compass."

JJ stared in disbelief. "And you think I can?" He shook his head, running a hand through his hair. "I don't know if you guys realise this, but hooking up doesn't really require much talking. I barely know her."

"But you know her enough to warm her bed every week," John B piped up, narrowing his eyes at his best friend. JJ sighed, lighting a fresh blunt as he refused to meet any of the gang's eyes, staring ahead. John B stepped over and beside the blonde, arm thrown over his shoulder. "We need answers, JJ. Answers she could have. I mean, it was her dad right? She must know something about why he had my dad's compass."

JJ nodded along, but the uncertain feeling bubbling in his chest didn't cease. Thoughts of the two men that had chased the group the day before, guns blazing, entered his mind. Then the memory of him and John B showing up at the Grubbs' residence, only to discover they had been beaten to it by the very same men - he'd heard them threaten Lana and Haley Grubbs, demanding questions about the same compass that lay heavy in John B's pockets. He knew his best friend deserved answers, why did Scooter Grubbs have Big John's compass the night he died? Why was Scooter Grubbs out in the storm that night anyway? Hell, even JJ wanted answers. But he couldn't shake the doubtful feeling, thoughts of Haley Grubbs swirling in his head.

"I don't think this is a good idea." He tried once more, voice small and defeated. The Pogues shared a glance, and he knew they'd already come to a decision. Sighing, he flicked the butt of his blunt, sending it flying in the opposite direction. "Fine, I'll go talk to her. But I'm not making any promises that she'll talk," he frowned. "Sometimes I kinda get the feeling she doesn't like me."

Kie snorted. "I wonder why."

What the gang hadn't bargained for, however, was that the same person who'd they been talking about was already on their way to them - boots stomping across the ground in a determined stride, their mind a whirlwind of series of memories, scenarios, and all the events that had happened in the last twenty four hours.

Haley wanted answers, and she wanted them soon. (Sooner rather than later, if she was being precise.) The series of misfortunes events had all begun with the disappearance of her father - for whatever reason, he'd gone out in the storm that raged against the Outer Banks the night prior, and that, unsurprisingly, had led to his death. Memories of his body, washed up on the shore, cold and blue, eyes open but completely lifeless as they stared up at nothing and everything at the same time. Her heart wrenched at the sight, and she still hadn't been able to get the scene out of your head - her mother breaking down in a heap of sobs, Haley’s body following along with her as the pair both held each other and cried, Sheriff Peterkin's voice echoing in Haley’s mind, over and over again, like a siren. “I'm so sorry. There's nothing we could have done."

Haley knew that, of course. But it didn't explain why he was out in the storm in the first place. She had tried to question her mother, because she knew her dad wasn't a fool. Storm Agatha had been reported for weeks following up to it, he'd even made off-handed comments about it over dinner a couple of times. Her dad was aware about the storm, but had still risked his life (and coincidentally, ended it) to take a boat ride, or so that's what her mother told you.

Bull-fucking-shit. Haley knew there was more to the story, the appearance of two men breaking down her door and trashing her whole house was enough proof of that. And the fact that they were asking about a compass, of all things, didn't sit right in Haley’s gut either. Why the hell would two thugs want a compass, and why would her dad have it anyway? To her knowledge, her dad had never owned a compass in his damned life. (He also never owned a boat, which raised the suspicion of how the hell had he even gone out on a boat ride in the first place.) But the pair were persistent, and she was forced to watch as they threatened her and her mom, their last words sticking with her, sending a shiver of dread up her spine every time they echoed in her head; “We'll be back."

It was something straight out of a king-pin movie, and yet Lana Grubbs still wouldn't talk. She knew something, Haley knew it, and why she wouldn't share whatever information she knew with Haley was beyond frustrating - so she decided, fuck it. If her mother wasn't gonna give her her answers, then she was gonna go out and find them herself. Starting with John B. Routledge.

As if things couldn't have gotten any weirder, the teenaged boy had shown up not a minute after the two guys had left, appearing in Haley’s not-so-much of a doorway with the exact thing the thugs were after: the Compass. To her chargin, she hadn't had time to ask any questions though, her mother was quick to dismiss him (and JJ Maybank of all people, but she didn't really want to think about him at the moment) and warned him not to let anyone know that he had the compass, and Haley could see why - those guys were not to be messed with.

And so, John B. Routledge had left the Grubbs’ home, JJ Maybank in tow, and Haley was left to clean up the mess the bastards had left behind them. Her mothers warning rang in her ears; "Stay away from them boys. Do not get involved in this, Hales.” But alas, there she was, storming towards the property she knew the guys would be. Her mother didn't know, of course, and she was determined to make sure Lana never did. (Haley would be the next person she'd be burying if she ever did find it.)

All Haley wanted was answers, and if John B had even a couple, she was going to find them out. Her father had died, and there was more to the story than anyone was letting on. If it was up to her to piece the puzzle together, then so be it. She would, gladly.

So she marched in the direction of the Routledge residence, more determined than ever. As she walked, people gave her pitying looks, obviously recognising her as Scooter Grubbs’ daughter (the newfound bastard of the Outer Banks, sarcasm intended.) and she simply ignored each and every one of them. She didn’t need them, she thought. She was going to find out the truth, and each step Haley took she was closer to uncovering it all. Some people walked towards her as if to stop and talk, probably attempting to give her some kind of condolence, but each time a person did she hurried her pace; she couldn’t be stopped now, she was too close to getting where she wanted to be for some middle-aged folk tell her they were sorry about her loss, even though they couldn’t have cared less about her dad when he was alive.

Fucking bullshit, she thought.

Haley’s stride slowed however, when a familiar looking van made it's way into her vision, memories of it parked outside the very same house she was planning on going running through her already overactive mind. Her stomach churned, thinking she had missed her chance to interrogate the poor unsuspecting boy, before it seemed to slow down and pulled up to right where she was standing on the curb. Her respectively plucked eyebrows raised as the window rolled down, revealing none other than John B sat in the drivers seat, Kiara Carrera in the passenger, and Pope Heyward's and JJ's heads peering around the pair from the back of the van.

John B leaned out, his mop of wavy brown hair entering Haley’s brown eyed gaze, tight smile on his lips. "Haley,” he greeted. “Hey, where are you off to? Need a ride?"

"Actually," Haley drawled as she stepped closer, right arm leaning on the window as she sent a forced smile the teenaged boys way. “I was just heading over to yours. What a coincidence, huh?"

She never missed the look Kiara shot the two guys seated in the back, all of their eyes seemingly communicating in their own weird little telepathical way. John B blinked, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water for a few seconds before he seemed to compose himself, clearing his throat. "Oh, really?" He asked, as naturally as he could. (It wasn't very natural at all.) “How, uh, how come?"

"Oh, you know," Haley started, shrugging a shoulder nonchalantly. "Just thought I'd pay you a visit, y'know, like the one you paid me this morning. Remember that?" She asked as innocently as she could manage. (It wasn't very innocent at all.) “Just wanted to ask you a few questions, s'all. Like why you have the one thing those meatheads that trashed my house were after. How you got hold of it, stuff like that."

And then she smiled like they were all sharing a perfectly civil conversation, as if the underlying threatening tone in her voice didn't exist at all. John B sighed, his head turning towards the rest of the group, catching their eyes and seeming to have another one of their telepathic conversations before he turned back to her figure, his head nodding towards the back of his infamous Volkswagen.

"Get in the back," he said - and she did, shooting him a smile that resembled one of a Cheshire Cat, satisfied as she moved to the other side, walking around the van and hearing him mutter from inside, "What? This is the perfect opportunity to ask her." She didn't need to look to know the rest of the gang were probably objecting her presence, but she couldn't care less. This was just the first step to getting what she wanted.

The door to the van was pulled open from the inside, JJ's head popping out and thrusting a hand out towards her to help her climb into the vehicle. Haley swiftly ignored the gesture, missing the flash of confusion and offence that appeared on the blonde's face, climbing into the van and seating herself beside Pope who smiled rather awkwardly toward her.

"I'm, uh, sorry about your dad," he said softly, fidgeting under her gaze. She smiled slightly at him in return, lips quirking more so in amusement at his obvious discomfort at either having her join them, or her being seated so close to him.

"Yeah, me too," Kiara piped up from the passenger seat, glancing over her shoulder towards her. "It must really suck, to just lose him like that."

Haley nodded, head turning in the direction of where JJ sat across from her, rubbing the back of his head as he muttered quietly, "Yeah, I'm sorry too." before averting his eyes when she looked at him, raising her eyebrows.

Kiara ignored him, the awkward silence that presented itself to the pedestrians inside the van only lasting a couple of seconds as she spoke up again. "I can't imagine what you and your mom are going through," she said, soft brown eyes darting to John B quickly before they returned to catch Haley’s once more. "We're always here if you need anything. Pogue's look out for each other, right?"

Haley forced a small smile, not bothering to bring up the fact that Kiara was technically not a Pogue, seeing no point in the matter as she sent her a small nod of appreciation, silently grateful for her words. Haley had always liked Kiara, or Kie, as she was more commonly known as. She had spent many times sat around a fire with her, listening to her rants about the environment and what everyone could do to help it, as an infamous Pogue kegger loomed around them. Haley was grateful for her presence amongst the guys, unsure of the fact that if she wasn't there, she probably wouldn't have entered the van. She was determined, but she also wasn’t stupid. Despite knowing the guys well and practically all her life, (it’s a small town kinda thing), she would never willingly get in a van with them and let them drive her to an unknown destination. Which reminded her suddenly - where the hell were they going?

"We're lucky we got each other, I guess," Haley said in relation to Kie's words. Kie nodded as her eyes darted to John B again. "But thanks, I really appreciate it." She fiddled with the hem of her faded out jean shorts, her next words directed towards John B. "So, care to tell me where we're going? Or better yet, why you have the damned compass my house was trashed for."

Silence filled the air of the Volkswagen. It was suffocating, the air thick with unspoken tension as everybody refused to meet her eyes. Haley was beyond frustrated, incredibly so, and she made a point to catch John B's eyes in the rearview mirror, an eyebrow quirking as she awaited an answer.

Finally, he sighed.

"The compass was my dads," John B revealed. Haley’s mouth opened in shock for a second before she clamped it back shut. "And for whatever reason, your dad had it. We uh, we found it at the wreck of your dads boat yesterday."

"Wait, what?" She demanded, blinking. She glanced between the gang, eyes accusing as she held each of theirs. "You guys found the wreck? And you didn't tell anyone?" She questioned, tone dangerously low. "And you stole from it?"

"It's not technically stealing if it was his compass," JJ defended, shrugging. Haley shot him a glare, feeling a bubble of irritation build deep in her gut. "And anyways, we tried to tell the coastguard about it after we first found it, but the guy was having none of it. They were hounded with the storm."

Her eyes narrowed. "First found it? Exactly how many times have you guys been at the wreck?" She demanded, tone accusatory.

The gang all swivelled to send JJ their own respected glares, Pope's voice small from beside her as he tried to explain. "Only a couple," he started, startling as her head whipped around towards him. "We're really sorry, okay! We didn't know it was your dads when we first found it, if we did, we wouldn't have snooped in his room either!"

Pope seemed to make note of his mistake as the rest of the gang did, Kie letting out a little frustrated groan from the back of her throat as JJ cringed, pointedly avoiding Haley’s gaze. John B's hands gripped the steering wheel tight, a warning "Pope" leaving his mouth.

Haley laughed, though it held no humour. She clasped her hands together, the slap of her palms meeting echoing in the confine space. "Let me get this straight, you guys not only found the wreck of my dads boat and didn't tell anyone about it, but also obviously found where he was staying and snooped in his room," she listed, feeling the familiar build of rage pulse through her body. “I mean, what the fuck you guys?"

"We're sorry," Kiara turned in her seat, meeting the Grubbs’ girl angered gaze. "We swear, if we had any idea it was your dad we wouldn't have. We were just, curious, I guess. We found the key on the boat when Pope first spotted it in the marsh, and before we even snooped we tried to tell the coastguard, but like JJ said, they weren't interested. So, John B and JJ went to look in the room."

Haley sighed heavily, leaning her head back to rest against the wall of the van. She tried to tell herself to calm down - hell, she probably would have done the same thing if it was her in their position, she couldn't get mad at them over that. "And did you guys find anything?" She asked quietly, the gang seemingly relaxing as they recognised her calmer tone of voice.

"Did we find anything?" JJ snorted as he repeated her words, grin falling from his lips at the glares the rest of his friends shot him. Haley sat up straighter, taking note of their warning glances. JJ awkwardly coughed, rubbing the back of his neck as he once again avoided her honey coated eyes. "Uh, not really."

"Not really?" She asked, frown on her plump lips. JJ nodded, tongue darting out to wet his pink lips, uncharacteristically quiet once more. "Okay, what the hell is going on? And no more bullshitting me, I've had enough of that from everyone else for the past forty eight hours. I came to you for answers, I'm not going anywhere without them."

She looked to John B then, hoping, pleading, that he would understand. He'd lost his dad too, nine months ago, supposedly lost at sea, believed to be dead. Haley knew he never believed that though, refusing to agree that his father was dead, insisting that he was simply missing. If there was one person that could understand her need to know about her dad, it was John B. And he knew it too, as he sighed and nodded.

"There was a safe," he started as she listened intently. "There was money inside it, I don't know how much. The cops kinda showed up when we were in there," he admitted sheepishly. "We had to hide before we could count it or anything. But there was also, um, a gun in the safe too."

"A gun?" Haley deadpanned. John B raised his eyes and caught hers, nodding. Haley scoffed in disbelief, running a hand through her almost waist length hair. "Why the hell would my dad have a gun?"

"Um, there's something else you should probably know," JJ blurted. "I kinda, uh, took it."

The Pogues glared at him again, Kie spitting a warning of his name, but the blonde just looked at the girl seated in front of him. Her eyes widened as he brandished the piece of metal, black in colour and daunting in shape. Of fucking course JJ Maybank had stolen her dads gun, she thought. It was so... JJ.

"You stole that from a crime scene?" She sputtered, heart squeezing uncomfortably in her chest as she eyed the object with disdain. JJ nodded, looking almost guilty. "My dads crime scene? What the fuck JJ? Do you realise how much trouble you could get into from taking that? For having that?"

Haley was unsure as to why she seemed to care so much about that, rather than the fact that he'd taken it from her dads motel room, and that the gun was technically her fathers. She didn't want to ponder too much about that, though, there was bigger fish to fry in that moment.

"Sorry," he said, rather dumbly. "You can have it, if you want?"

She stared at him incredulously as he held the gun out towards her, quickly shoving it away from her body as she shook her head forcefully. "What the fuck would I want with a gun, JJ?" Haley demanded. The blonde boy shrugged, suddenly sheepish.

"It was your dads," he stated simply. From the corner of her vision she could see Pope sending him a wild look, brown eyes blown wide as he tried to be subtle and shake his head at his friend, silently warning him to shut the hell up, or so she presumed. "I just thought, y'know-"

"You thought wrong, JJ," Haley interrupted him before he could continue. His eyebrows furrowed as he noted her hostile tone, but let it go as he simply nodded, swallowing thickly when she turned away from him. “So, what happened, after the motel room?"

John B looked glad to be back on the original topic. "Well, it wasn't long after that we found it was your dad. We were gonna tell the police, but uh, we had this crazy idea that there might have been more on the boat, like money or something? I don't know, we just thought-"

"Your dad might've been a straight smuggler," Pope piped up. Haley’s glare made him shrink in his spot. "Sorry, sorry. Not the time, I get it."

"Right," John B said curtly as Kie groaned softly. "So we went to look again, and I found a duffel bag. The marsh was closed, obviously. But we weren't the only ones out there," his voice turned deadly serious. “After I got it, these two guys appeared on a boat. The same two guys that were at your place earlier."

Haley exhaled shakily at the information, memories of the two men entering her mind unwelcoming. The image of them carelessly tearing apart her house, screaming threats at her and her mother, gun held to her temple as their fists left holes in the walls and bruises on her mothers skin. She shuddered and hoped the rest of the gang hadn't noticed, but she could see the pity in John B's eyes as they reconnected with her own.

"They chased after us, and they were shooting at us too. We managed to escape them, and when we got back on land I looked in the bag, and all that was in it was the compass. My dads compass. It's a Routledge family heirloom, and your dad had it."

His tone held accusatory, though she couldn't blame him for it. It was a mystery to even her as to why or how her father had gotten hold of the compass, and she knew John B wanted answers just as much as she did. Haley felt almost guilty that she couldn't give him any as she spoke up, “I didn't know anything about it, I swear. The first time I've even heard of it was today when those guys showed up. I'm sorry, John B."

Said boy nodded, seemingly believing her as he sent a small smile her way, reassuring her. “Anyways, that's why me and JJ went to your place, I just wanted to know if maybe you or your mom knew anything about it or why your dad had it," he shrugged a shoulder, trying to come off as non-chalant. "And that's when we saw those guys again. I'm sorry about that, by the way."

She shrugged too, an expression of what-you-gonna-do on her face. Though she desperately wanted to know more about the compass, and why it could be so important to the thugs, she withheld her questions for the moment, deciding they could come later.

"And then they arrived at mine," John B revealed. Haley’s yes widened in surprise at the sudden revelation, churning of fear twisting at her gut. "They did the exact same at my place that they did to yours; tore the whole place apart, looking the compass I guess."

JJ burst then - Haley jumped as his voice echoed in the van, much more louder than what John B's had been, excitement lacing his tone as he began to recite the story of the two thugs and their mission of tearing John B's poor beloved Chateau apart, hands gesturing wildly around him.

"Yeah, they were fucking crazy man! We were all locked in Big John's office, no way out apart from the window that was fucking painted shut. We could hear them, taunting us, y'know. Like, 'you better not be in there', they even knew John B's name!" JJ rambled, excitable expression painted on his boyish features. "They come in, guns-a-blazing and we're all tryna figure out how the hell to get out of there, before we finally manage to open the window and hide in the fucking chicken coop of all places. It was fucking insane, man. I had to kill a hen just so we could make it out alive."

Haley blinked at that, her jaw dropping slightly as she tried to process all the information he'd thrown at her all within a minute. JJ calmed down from his passionate retale, chest heaving slightly as he took in her dazed expression, sea blue eyes catching hers and holding them. Kiara said his name in a warning tone from the passenger seat, and he snapped out of his stare-off with the olive skinned girl, but she was still looking at him in disbelief.

"That's basically it," John B said from the front of the van, though his face held a slight grimace at his best friends rather dramatic recite. "But yeah, they practically stripped my dads office bare. They took everything, all of his books, research, everything about the Royal Merchant."

If anybody had noticed her sudden stiff posture at the mention of the Merchant, they never spoke on it. The Royal Merchant. Something Haley was all too familiar with. It had been something of a fascination to her father for a while, especially in the weeks leading up to his death. She just thought it was a weird hobby, a strange interest of his that she never really thought much of. It was nice to see her dad passionate about something, she’d thought. No matter how strange she believed it to be, he had a hobby and she was happy for him. But, sitting in the back of John B. Routledge's van, surrounded by a group of teenaged Pogues, one of which she was were all too familiar with, to put it simply, her throat tightened.

Surely the Royal Merchant couldn't have had anything to do with her dad, right? She was just thinking too much, more than likely. But something in the back of her mind was nagging, unforgiving as the thoughts whirled in her head.

"But before the guys showed up, we found something," she focused back her attention as John B continued. "There's something engraved on the compass. Redfield. It's my dads handwriting, he must have put it there for me, before he disappeared."

Haley shared a glance with JJ as John B said the word. Disappeared. Ever the hopeful, yearning boy. She couldn't doubt his wish, she wished for nothing more for her dad to appear back in her life - but she knew that hers was dead, officially. How could she forget, she saw his lifeless eyes every time she closed hers.

But John B didn't have that, he never knew, really, if his father was truly dead or alive. The records said so, but he'd refused to sign them, or so she heard. He was still hopeful, so certain that his dad would just appear back at the Chateau one day, like he'd never disappeared in the first place. But Haley - and many others - were realistic, and the reality was there was very little to no chance that Big John Routledge was alive.

(Her heart broke for the boy.)

She tuned out the rest of the conversation for the remainder of the drive, her head leaning back on the cool metal of the wall as she closed her eyes and allowed her mind to wander with all the possibilities. Could the Royal Merchant really have been a factor in her dads death? She couldn't shake the feeling, as she could hear vaguely the conversation of the gang. John B insisting that his dad was leading him on a mission, Kiara trying to be supportive but anyone could pick up on the doubt in her voice, Pope piping up with rather unhelpful scenarios like Big John having been kidnapped, (Haley had rolled her eyes), and JJ adding his input, multitasking with rolling a blunt. (She’d rolled her eyes harder.)

The thing was, Haley and the Maybank boy had a little deal going on. She could remember the exact day it had begun, at an infamous Pogue kegger, the sun having set and leaving the sky coloured in perfect hues of pink, purple and yellow. It had been a beautiful night, she had to admit. The party had gone strong to the early hours of the morning, and she’d somehow found herself leaving with JJ Maybank. He'd approached her after she witnessed him striking out with a Touron, (surprisingly), eyes narrowing at her when she’d let out a giggle at his misfortune. He had been hostile at first, demanding what she was laughing at, grinning slightly when she informed him simply 'you'.

The rest of the night had been spent in each others company, and Haley could recall the exact moment where they were dancing closely, bodies pressed tight against each other, her arms thrown over his shoulders and wrapped around his neck, his own around her waist, fingers digging into her hips. Their breath mingled together, his forehead leaning against her own, and she’d expected the moment his lips fell on herd, slightly chapped but impossibly soft against her own as they danced in a passionate embrace that secretly took her breath away. She’d let him lead her to John B's Chateau across the beach, hand gripped in one another’s, as he pressed her to every surface until they managed to stumble their way into the spare bedroom.

She had told herself the next morning that it would only be a one time thing. Haley wasn’t one for random hook-ups, not that no one had tried to coax her into one. She was kinda known amongst the island as being this untouchable, obtainable person that nobody could ever get close to. She wasn’t sure what it was about her that made everyone label her as this being - maybe it was the fact that she was a loner and didn’t stick to one friendship group and spent most of her time to herself, maybe it was the fact that people thought she was weird because her dad was known to be such a loser (God rest his soul), or maybe it was the fact that she skateboarded around town morning till dawn, earphones plugged in and music blasting so loud that passerby’s could hear every word clearly.

The point was, she wasn’t known for getting close to anyone. And yet, she had found herself drifting back to JJ Maybank many other nights after that first one, and that’s where their little deal came into play.

But that's where it began, and also where it ended. Hers and JJ's relationship (if you could even call it that) never went beyond that. Random hook-ups here and there, whenever JJ struck out with a Touron and found himself soughting Haley out amongst the crowd to fill the space in his bed. Of course they were always friendly with each other, they’d known each other for so long, that it would have been silly not to continue being friendly. But they never hung out, not with his group, not with him alone apart from their many nights of endeavours, until now, she supposed. She thought it might have been weird, and she thought correct. Neither of them really looked at each other head-on, the air awkward and thick as the driving continued.

Haley was thankful when John B seemed to finally arrive at his destination, and she leaned forward with Pope to glance out the window, spotting the tall lighthouse stood proud in front of the group. Redfield, the name was written boldly on display.

"Redfield Lighthouse," John B spoke. "My dads favourite place."

She clambered from the van as the rest of the guys did, gazing up at the high building with her hand shielding her eyes from the bright sun from where they all gathered at the clearing. John B turned to face JJ. "Right, you're gonna post up and look out for bogeys, okay?"

JJ's eyebrows furrowed as he demanded, "Wait, why me?" His expression only darkened when Pope informed he wasn't to go in the Lighthouse, Haley watching from the sidelines, unsure where to put herseld in the situation. "Why?" He continued to argue.

Pope grabbed hold of JJ's shoulders. "There are independent and dependent variables, you're an independent variable-" he tried to explain but was quickly cut off as JJ began to yell over his words. "We don't know what you'll do!"

"Shut up!"

Haley awkwardly scuffed her boots on the ground as Kiara sent her a small smile from ahead of the boys, rolling her eyes dramatically when Haley caught them. She smiled at the gesture, once again appreciative of her presence. "Listen to me for a second," John B cut in their argument, stepping forward. "Pope, you stand look out with JJ, okay?" The pair in questioned seemed reluctant, but both nodded at John B's persistent glare. The tall brunette turned to her next, gaze softening immensely when he caught sight of her uncertain posture. "Do you mind keeping an eye out here?"

She shook your head immediately, sending him a reassuring nod. "Yeah, sure. That's fine by me. Heights aren't really my thing anyway," she told him as she looked up at the Lighthouse, nausea hitting at a slight force when she stared at the very top of the building amongst the blue sky. "Yeah, I'm good here."

He nodded back at her, a thankful smile on his lips. "If we split up, we meet back at JJ's house." He spoke, directing the words to the whole group. They all nodded their agreement.

"Great." Kie finalised, shooting Haley one last small smile before her and John B began to walk off, jumping the small fence that blocked their path, their stride quickly entering them into the lighthouse. Haley exhaled as they disappeared into the door, and moved her gaze to return on the two boys she was stuck with.

"I'm gonna work on my merit scholarship essay." Pope informed, before he turned and entered back into the van, leaving her and JJ stood on the outside of it, alone and deadly quiet. She looked at the golden haired boy as he pulled out a happy sack from his pocket, beginning to kick it around with his booted foot.

Haley sighed as she leaned on the passenger side door, her teeth biting down on her watermelon flavoured chapstick covered lip as she stared at the grass beneath her feet, her mind racing. A thud caught her attention and she glanced in the direction of where it had come from, a happy sack laying at her feet. She looked back up to JJ, who sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck. "Um, sorry about that."

She huffed out a small laugh, bending down and snatching the sack from the floor. "You don't have to apologise to me JJ," she said softly. Throwing the sack back to him, his large hands reached out and cupped it, bringing it back to his chest. “I'm sorry about this, y'know, gatecrashing your friends' little adventure."

JJ's lips quirked, his muscular arm reaching back and throwing the sack into the air, Haley catching it and holding his eyes. "You're not gatecrashing anything," he assured. In the sunlight, his skin cast a golden glow. "And 'sides you deserve to be here. You're looking for just as much answers as John B is."

"I'm not sure about that," Haley told him and threw the sack to him. "I mean, I'm looking for answers, of course. That's why I'm here. But I'm pretty sure John B needs them more than I do," she glanced at the lighthouse momentarily. "I know what happened to my dad, pretty much. He died while being out in the storm, I know that, I just don't know why he was out in the storm or what he was even up to in the weeks leading up to it. John B doesn't even know for sure if his dad is dead or alive." She shuddered at the thought, shaking her head. "He deserves answers way more than me."

JJ nodded, tongue pressed to the inside of his cheek as he paused in throwing the sack back towards her, looking at her small figure thoughtfully. "Do you think they could be connected?" He asked suddenly. Haley stared at him, confusion painted on her face. "Your dads, I mean. Yours and John B's. Do you think they could be connected, like your dads death and JB's dads disappearance?"

She stopped. Could they be, really? She had to admit she thought about it in the van on the journey there, but as quickly as it came it passed. To her knowledge, her dad and Big John didn't really know each other - of course they knew each other, but they didn't mix, or so she believed. But her mind replayed the moment John B mentioned the Royal Merchant, the way her stomach had filled with dread immediately, and she had the sinking feeling that it was very possible that what JJ was hinting at could be true.

"I don't know, maybe," she said instead, not wanting to voice her thoughts. JJ nodded thoughtfully, finally throwing her the sack back. She caught it, and repeated the process back to him again.

"I am sorry, though. About your dad," JJ's voice was soft, careful as he watched her pause, taking in his words. "I was gonna say more before, but with the guys... I know how much he meant to you."

Haley smiled gently, a sudden flutter in her chest alarming her as she nodded appreciatively at his words. "Thank you, JJ," she said quietly, sincerely. "It means a lot."

JJ nodded too, chapped lips pulling into an uncertain half-grin. "And I just wanted to say as well, that uh, I don't want things to be like, weird between us or anything," he stated awkwardly, clearing his throat. Haley almost laughed at the look on his face. "I mean, like, with us hooking up and stuff-"

"It won't be weird," Haley quickly interrupted him, grin overtaking the features of her face despite her better thoughts. "It was just hooking up, right? Not like we're exes or anything. No need to make it weird."

"Right," JJ voiced his agreement. Head full of long blonde locks nodding along at her words, dimples winking at her as they made an appearance in his cheeks when he smiled. "Not making it weird. Here's to that."

She laughed as the happy sack landed in her hands, holding it there as she squinted in the sun, grin cheeky as she gazed at him from her small distance. "Yeah, we'll just have to pretend we've never seen each other naked." She joked as she finally threw him his toy back.

The golden haired boy returned her smile, eyes mischievous as they made a show to glance at her figure from head to toe. "Trust me, I'll have to pretend a lot more beyond that to stay civil."

And before she could even think to voice her thoughts of Fuck, how did that almost kinda turn you on, a sudden and loud blare of a familiar siren startled, Haley’s and JJ's eyes widening as they met, a panicked expression matching in their features.

"Shit!" Haley uttered as JJ dropped the happy sack, her head turning to catch sight of the impending police car making its way towards where they were parked. She quickly glanced to the lighthouse, her heart dropping when she saw no sign of John B or Kiara, JJ grabbing her by the arm suddenly and practically dragging her into the van in the passenger seat, him running to occupy the drivers as Pope's head popped up between the seats, questioning them both erratically. She could give him no answers however, having no idea what had prompted the police to arrive. Haley had no time to think about what could have happened as JJ slammed his foot down, peeling out of the grassy area and away from the scene. "What about John B and Kie?"

"They'll be fine," JJ assured her, though they were empty words. He had no clue what had happened either, or if his friends would make it out and away from the lighthouse in time, but he still reached over and squeezed Haley’s knee gently when he saw her worried look. He caught her gaze and held it. "They'll be fine."

She could only hope that was true.

It was hours later when Haley and the Pogues gathered around John B's kitchen table, deadly silent as everyone processed what had just transpired.

She’d had JJ and Pope drop her off at home after escaping the police at the lighthouse, aware that she had been gone a long while and her mother was probably sick with worry by that point. If she wasn’t home within the hour, Haley had no doubt that she would have the police patrolling the streets, searching for her. When she toldthe boys this, they chuckled as she ordered them to park around the corner from her home, not wanting her mother to spot her leaving the van. She’d told them to call her when they heard from either John or Kiara, and they'd both agreed as she climbed from the van and walked the familiar path to her house.

Sure enough, Lana practically collapsed into her when she’d entered. Her arms were wrapped around Haley so tightly as they squeezed all the air out of her lungs, her mothers voice in her ear a jumbled mess of words laced in a frantic tone. Haley assured her she was fine, that no harm was done, and that she had just gone for a walk around the Outer Banks. Lana seemed hesitant, but had allowed Haley to ease her worries as she led her towards the couch and sat her down, letting her mom hold her for as long as she needed to assure her mind that she were really okay.

Haley felt almost bad, seeing her in such a panicked state. But then she remembered if she had just answered her questions truthfully instead of hiding everything from her than she wouldn't be sneaking around in the first place. And then the guilt subsided, if only a little. (Haley still felt awful.)

It was a couple of hours after that when a knock had sounded on her bedroom window. She had startled, her heart racing as she wondered who the hell could be knocking on her window, at night, too. She almost very nearly didn't go towards it, in fear of the two faces of the men from earlier that day greeting her, but she’d exhaled a sigh of relief when her eyes landed on the face of JJ Maybank.

"Care for a late night drive?" He'd asked, and she’d rolled her eyes. His grin never faltered as he watched her put on her boots, checking in on her mother and determining if the coast was clear to sneak out, before she’d climbed from her window, thankful that the house was only one story as she did so. Despite that fact, JJ's hands still gripped her hips as he helped her (though he didn't have to) down from the window.

She’d felt instant relief when she spotted Kiara and John B sat in the van, having resumed their earlier positions. Kie grinned at her as she got in the back along with JJ and Pope, who smiled at her also, as Haley began to question the both of them on what had happened after they’d fled the scene.

They'd been caught, of course. But they'd also been released, and that was the main thing. Haley decided to focus on the positives as John B drove them all off, this time to a cemetery of all places - leading the way towards a specific grave that he informed them all was his great-great grandmother, Olivia Redfield. Her maiden name, apparently.

And of fucking course inside that crypt was a white FedEx envelope, addressed to Bird, which they would later discover was actually John B's nickname given to him by his dad, who'd actually left the envelope there - hoping one day that his son would find it. (Because of fucking course Big John would do that.)

The pieces to the puzzle were all coming together, bit by it, slowly but surely. They’d all returned to the Chateau upon the discovery of the envelope, which contained a map, the sight very familiar. (The Royal Merchant, of fucking course it was.) And there was a very obvious X displayed on it too, X marks the spot. Along with that, a tape recorder fell into the palm of John B's hand.

"Dear Bird," the voice had started, vaguely familiar to Haley’s ears. There was no question as to who the voice belonged to - Big John Routledge was speaking directly into the room, all five teenagers gathered around listening intently. "I didn't expect to find the Merchant either."

Haley’s eyes widened to the size of saucers, her breath catching in her throat as she glanced at JJ who was beside her, his own face a perfect replica of confusion and amazement.

"There she is, the wreck of the Merchant. If something happens to me, finish what I started." Big John's voice continued to fill the deafening silence of the room. "Go for the gold, kid. I love you, Bird, even if I didn't always act like it. I'll see you on the other side."

The recorder clicked off after that, once again silence engulfing the room. Haley felt her stomach churn, her heartbeat to quicken, her palms beginning to sweat. She couldn't believe it. Big John Routledge had gone and found the Royal Merchant. The Royal Merchant, of which her own father had spent months obsessing over. The Royal Merchant, as in the ship that had sunk over two hundred years ago. The Royal Merchant, in which had bought her and this ragtag group of misfits together.

They all littered around the pontoon close to John B's house, beers in hand as Kie strummed softly on her ukulele, the night air a welcome comfort to Haley’s clammy skin, her heart having still not calmed from when she’d first come to the realisation that Big John had found the Royal Merchant, and now she was joining the Pogues on finishing what he had started - for her own father, she thought as she looked towards the stars in the summer nights sky, smiling softly up at them. For you, dad.

"How much was it again?" JJ broke the silence, the golden haired boy seated closest to her.

"Four hundred mil," John B reminded, though he said it dreamily, almost as if he still couldn't quite believe it. She couldn't, either, in all honesty. Five teenagers, about to charge head-first into a treasure hunt? They had to be crazy. But for four hundred million, anyone would be.

JJ's head turned at rapid speed, before he let out a sigh and clasped his hands together, looking between them all. "Alright, let's talk the split. Now, before we say 'evenly' may I remind you that I am the only one that can properly defend us from those groupers who were after us," he branded the gun, waving it around as he spoke. "Protection? Not cheap, okay?"

"Technically, that should be my gun," Haley pointed out, shrugging a shoulder and smiling cheekily when he turned to glance over at her, frown etched on his lips. "You said so yourself, remember?"

"You said you didn't want it!" He protested instantly.

She licked her lips as she teased him, "Well, maybe I changed my mind."

JJ shook his head, tongue running over his teeth as he stared at her in disbelief, though his smile was enough to let her know he found humour in her actions. "You don't just get backsies on a gun," he deadpanned.

Haley rolled your honey coated eyes as Pope quickly interrupted the two of them. “You haven't trained," he directed towards JJ. "You've done zero training."

"YouTube, bro!" JJ countered, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "This," he pointed to the gun. "Is at least a five percent bump right there."

The group collectively ignored him, though Haley sent him a smirk when he looked at her, an expression of am-I-right or am-I-right on his pretty face. Kie tilted her head towards Pope. "What are you gonna do with your eighty mil, Pope?" She questioned.

"Pay for college in advance," the boy answered immediately. "And also, textbooks. Those are expensive."

Haley couldn't help but smile at him, Pope, ever the thoughtful one. She knew if she had half the brains Pope had she’d probably be the exact same as him - planning ahead, working towards college more than anything. She admired the boy, truly. But her future wasn't nearly as bright as Pope's, she was aware of that. Which made the desire to find that treasure from the Royal Merchant all that more huge.

"What about you, Haley?” She was broken from her thoughts as Kie suddenly directed her words to the other girl, raising an expectant brow as she came to, noting the rest of the gang all looking at her with similar expressions.

What would she do with her money? Honestly, she had no idea. She felt incredibly lucky to even be considered to get a share of it, given that she had appeared seemingly out of nowhere, demanding answers about her dead dad and the damned compass that had started it all in the first place. She’d questioned the guys immediately after the discovery of Big John's reveal, telling them that she was totally okay with not getting a share, had even told them she’d back off and leave them to it, though so many more questions needed answering in her mind. But they'd all immediately disagreed, letting her know that she were apart of this just as much as they all were. This was her journey, too.

"Move me and my mom out of our shitty house," Haley decided. "Get a huge ass house on Figure Eight, buy anything that we wanted. Treat her to everything she could have ever dreamed of. Maybe buy a holiday home in Italy, visit there every year and have a holiday romance with an insanely hot Italian guy."

Her and Kiara shared a giggle at that, missing the way the blonde beside her shifted almost uncomfortably, eyes downcast towards the water for a second before he licked his lips, proclaiming loudly, "I know what I'll do. I'm gonna get a big ass house on Figure Eight, and go full Kook," JJ announced, eyes meeting hers and sending her a wink. "We can be neighbours."

Haley laughed outright, shaking her head at his dramatics as he continued. "Gonna get a marble statue of myself, and then I'm gonna get a koi pond, put a bunch of those fish-"

"I'm never visiting." Kie mumbled, interrupting his sentence as they all shared a laugh, gazes suddenly turning to John B who hadn't spoken in a while, the tanned brunette simply staring off into space, almost seemingly lost in his world.

"What about you, John B?" He looked back towards the four of them sprawled out on the pontoon, his eyes catching Haley’s own for a millisecond, the pair of them understanding exactly what was going through both their minds in that moment.

"To going full Kook," he raised the hand that held his beer, the group of Pogues wasting no time in following the action, all their hands raising, beer cans glinting under the moonlight as they all exclaimed, "To going full Kook!" into the summer nights air, the excitement and anticipation present in all of their voices.

And she grinned as she clinked her beer with JJ's, the blonde throwing a careless arm over her shoulder as he tugged her closer to him; Haley’s own naturally wound around his waist in return as they all laughed and joked into the night, the promise of an adventure and bright future's ahead of them all.

She failed to notice that their arms never really left each other until later that night, when her departure from the gang forced her to unwind her limbs from his, their gazes catching, secret smiles on both their faces.

Oh, this would be fun.

[headinahornetnest]

Fucking, sex toy usage, spanking, brief gore description, denial

Less a temple, more a fortress. Fortified with hardness and cruelty. That's Smoothie. His life is purpose built for isolation, so obviously, Sonny wants to get closer to him. Crocodiles snapping at him from the moats.

"Please."

"Please, pretty please?"

He is a proud man, but not like this. This is groveling. The plaintive cries of desperation. Of hoping against hope at the sight of certain failure.

Smoothie turns his nose up at the batted eyelashes. "There's no point to this."

"I'm bored and horny. Isn't that enough?" Sonny reaches out and holds Smoothie's hand. Rejected as Smoothie withdraws from him. "I need it," he throws out. A heat-seeking missile

Curiosity bubbles into Smoothie's thoughts. A certain playful meanness, also. "Fine." He touches Sonny's head. Brushes the hair just above his ear. "But you have to be good."

Sonny nods

"Strip."

There is something a little endearing about Sonny's excitement. The clumsiness in it. He half-jump half-kicks his way out of his pants as he clambers out of his clothes in a flurry of motion. Maybe this is genuine. Maybe that word has lost its meaning.

Giddiness, again. Stark naked with his hands clasped together in front of him. Patient in a manner entirely too rare. He plays the fool well. Born to it, practically

Modesty becomes irrelevant after a certain number of inches. Sonny's cock dangles there limp and heavy. A great, horrible thing to burden someone with. An itch somewhere inside Smoothie wants scratching, but he decides to pace himself.

"Here." He points to the spot on the bed beside him.

Sonny comes as called. Still, hands to himself. But not without expectation

This is a smiling idiot. Shy desirous eager. Perfect, in other words.

Smoothie touches with a languid ease. Drawing a trail of goosebumps up Sonny's arm. Eyeing every inch of Sonny's body first before laying his hands down to feel. He shushes ticklish giggles. It's meant to be serious, but the happy smirk is contagious as fire to kindling. Fondness has stolen its way into Smoothie's movements. Clinical turns caress.

It's almost sinister the alchemy Sonny uses to transmogrify all negativity to joy. Something Smoothie must guard himself against. "Do you want to be well? Or do you want to have fun?"

"Is both an option?" Sonny grins outright, now. A maddening jab.

A litany of torture rattles inwardly through Smoothie's mind. Only a body. Fat and flesh and bone, easy to separate and organize. He pictures Sonny's organs spread across the bed, his limbs carved like a fresh roast. He feels the cross section of muscle and pretends to count the rings of age on a tree trunk. A face with no eyes, a cheek with no skin, tongueless so as to finally find silence.

"Darling?," questions the corpse. Smoothie remembers what he's doing. Sonny is incorrigibly handsome, still.

Smoothie kisses him. Angry at first. Biting Sonny's lip then his tongue. Forcing him open. Hungry to take something he can't quite place

Sonny grabs his bicep. Grip tightening on Smoothie's arm when it gets to be too much. "Fuck," he breathes out when he is let go. Already in need of a cigarette.

"Stop?"

Despite the shock, Sonny shakes his head emphatically.

It's Smoothie's turn with the unflappable smirk. He unbuckles his belt and Sonny nearly starts panting. "Don't get excited. I'm just getting comfortable."

Sonny watches him amble up the bed and get comfy with a pillow under his head. "I- is it okay if I-"

"Yes." Smoothie needn't say more for Sonny to be on top of him. Pressing his cock needily into Smoothie's covered thigh. Smoothie raises his leg a fraction, but no more.

Sonny whines into a kiss that aches with its sluggishness. Smoothie, a stalwart refusal to pick up the pace. "Ba-a-abe." The word draws out over several syllables. Smoothie's usually responsive to a good begging

"Get off me." Firmness in his tone that hits Sonny like a slap.

Sonny's wounded. Hurt, upset. He pouts as he lifts up on his elbows and looks down to Smoothie. "I didn't do anything." Scooching over until he's between Smoothie's legs. Rubbing the top of his dick against Smoothie's crotch. "We haven't done anything." He reaches down and his cock lands with a none too gentle thud on top of Smoothie's belly.

Smoothie pets it idly. Sonny's tirade against flattery means casual is the rule. That being said, Smoothie does linger as he looks. The tip of Sonny reaching his rib cage and pulsing like an angry animal. Tempting as it might be to laboriously work himself down every inch. "This?" He flicks his thumb side to side at the ridge under the head of Sonny's dick. "This isn't happening."

"Fuck." Sonny drops his head, deflating in his skin. He sags above Smoothie as an emptied ghost of a man.

"Don't be sour. You'll still come tonight." Smoothie pinches Sonny's cheek until the other perks up. "Now, I meant it. Get off me."

Sonny removes himself. Awkward as he sits. Fiddling with his hands and trying very much not to touch himself.

"Face down."

Lights go up in Sonny's eyes. He pushes his ass up in the air and finds a pillow to make himself comfy on the mattress. The wait isn't long until Smoothie smacks the meat of his bottom. Only hard enough to leave it stinging and sensitive. Sonny's tongue lolls out of his mouth. He presses the side of his face to the pillow and waggles himself for another. Reward is a funny thing

Smoothie moves across the room and gather some things from the closet. Looking back to make sure Sonny doesn't spoil the surprise.

He squirts lube down the crack of Sonny's ass and rubs it in before coaxing at the pucker of Sonny's entrance. Smoothie is nothing if not methodical. One then two then three. Warmth poisons him at every keen and whine Sonny makes. Desire has him draw out the process longer than he intended

He thrusts greedily back on Smoothie's hand. His voice cracks, his eyes tear. "Please, please. Ahh. You know that's not enough. T-touch me. I need you to-"

"Shut up." Smoothie pushes a plug inside of Sonny. Sonny's body sucks it in and still he cries for more.

Sonny's head raises and lowers in a prayer he doesn't know how to speak. Smoothie presses a button and vibration pulls out another moan. He pumps his hips fruitlessly into the empty air. "Please, please pleasepleaseplease."

Smoothie grabs his cock. Strokes him dispassionately like he finds the act repulsive. He only wants to be certain Sonny's at full hardness. "Sit up, Sonny. You need to look at me."

His head is full to bursting and he does cry when he sees what Smoothie's laid out on the bed. "No! Fuck you. That's a joke." Anger blends with hurt

Smoothie holds up a sex toy, a miniature butt that wouldn't even cover half Sonny's length. "I'm not."

"This isn't fair. I've done everything right. Why are you punishing me?" He wipes wetness away from his nose.

"It's this or nothing." Smoothie remains steadfast.

Defeat is inevitable. Sonny takes his lot in life. Days, weeks, years pass and he can't get off like this. Good sex and genetics have ruined his ability to settle

Five minutes and Smoothie resolves himself to the fact that Sonny is suffering uselessly. Nonetheless, it's fun to watch. He preps himself quietly, so Sonny can go on thinking he has to endure this agonizing purgatory

Sonny opens his eyes when a touch is on his shoulder. "Smoothie!" He nuzzles forward into Smoothie's bare chest and almost strains his hip trying to push through the toy. "You do love me," he sighs.

"Don't spread it around." He smiles. Smoothie lowers himself onto Sonny. Deep breaths. It's not fair how big it still is. "What you have is a crime between your legs." He strains his neck to kiss Sonny

"Thank you, baby." He settles into gods honest heat and flesh. A fresh squirt of pre just at the sensation of Smoothie around him. Timid takes a back seat to desire. He ruts almost feverish into Smoothie. Ditching holding onto the toy to fondling as much real skin as he can

Smoothie admits that it was a poor plan from its inception. What starts out pleasurable turns to being fucked pretty decently, but mostly being repeatedly punched in a sensitive area with six pounds of silicone. "Sonny, sl- AH, slow down," he gasps. Wondering, dreaming hoping wanting, about possible bruises he will never be able to explain

Sonny becomes lethargic. "Sorry." He doesn't mean it, but then he does when Smoothie moves to get Sonny out of him and goes upright to sit on top of the toy.

His thighs and ass are burning as he's knelt above this abomination of convenience. "I know you're close. Just get it over with."

A frown is the most unnatural thing across Sonny's face, but he persists. Some relief easing his burden when Smoothie reaches a hand back to cover more of Sonny's cock with slick grip.

It takes a second for Sonny's mind to recover from disappointment. Tilting his head up to kiss Smoothie in a bid for sympathy or compliance.

"You're no good to me- you're no good to anyone like this. Clear your head." Smoothie holds Sonny, forces Sonny's head down to his chest so he may concentrate on his grim work

Sonny chases after an orgasm that's been teased away from him for far too long. Exhaling heavily from his mouth. He relishes the hand gripping the base of his hairline almost as much as the one wrapped around his dick. In his mind, he's still in Smoothie's hot embrace. One day he might have Smoothie under him. To delight and shower him with the same suffering. It spurs him on

"Let it all out. Isn't that better? Doesn't that feel good?" Smoothie drags his nails along Sonny's back. He rides out the last motions with grace

Something resembling shame is what sets off his own catastrophe. The mess he makes on the sheets and the blubbering gasps he utters into the air. "Yes. Thank you. Thank you."

Spent.

Smoothie pets down the back of Sonny's head. "That's good."

Later, is his feeling of degradation. Now, he is sated. Glowing and almost vibrating with happiness. Maybe the shaking is his bone-tiredness. Smoothie is the love of his life and truest savior. In these caring hands, he is cleaned and cajoled and catered to in every way

He wraps himself around Smoothie. Cuddling, not suffocating. Wanting so badly to be a second skin. "When can you do this, again?"

Smoothie laughs. He kisses Sonny and doesn't answer the question

[the-firebird69]

Huge numbers of people sitting here calling these assholes rude freaking morons that's what they're doing you're losing all The fleets because you're a bunch of s*** is that's terrific I didn't say what are we going to fight his people with nothing sticks and arrows and all sudden Mac turned around and said this is impossibly hard I did the wrong thing and I kept doing it and you people are all online too shut your mouth and get to work so they are but they're mumbling stuff like what work are we going to have apparently you want to do nothing but bother us to become nothing it's true too he's harassing the s*** out of them he's a little baby and he ruined a lot of stuff for real

The fleet of trump and Dan is cut into one half of its former size and just moments it dropped another quarter all the other fleets are going to disappear and bja doesn't seem to care the same just dump it and we'll be better off and stuff like that because he's a moron who even want you to have the titanium because we didn't want you to have titanium missiles you see and that's what you did well there's a story there but you don't know that story do you don't it does not work out for you you're fine to be extremely incompetent stupid and you're also find out to be a Deadman by your own because right now they're looking at this museum in Boston and you're smirking smiling sardonic face is going to be smeared all over the ground after you get out of your little job they say and they're saying it to you themselves but you're definitely than a door nail we say it and you don't believe us and you think we're discomforting niche with that you can hide in yeah like a papoose you are a fool we ate you alive because you're doing that and you're still doing it now you're going to be teeny you're already pretty small all you want to do is smirk and cause people to kill you and then already is a crowd outside waiting to shoot you as a matter of fact you probably won't make it through your little announcement of what you want to happen because of stupid reasons because it's happening anyways that's you you've always been a baby you just a child give them mentality of a four year old child they're going to get you too

And the other fleets are heading up the rest of the empire and the foreigners are together are going after Trump's fleet at the same time most likely all of them will be wiped out and the smirking smiling tit for a man is going to be dead because Trump's lead whether they occupied or not it's going to move in and destroy them as an excuse or the real thing no one cares you have to go bja

Thor

goodbye you pathetic loser and losers freaking family you are pathetic losers and you shouldn't be out front and you shouldn't be doing the jobs you're doing and you messed everything up just like you think you did and you're going to be dead let me know you don't care too much but we do we needed you to do this job desperately

Freya

It's all over shortly for you you're going to be gone very soon just like you keep saying to our son cuz you're moron it's okay you're stupid people

Olympus

[sainadazai]

Chapter 4

A/n ahh yesterday was bakugous birthday I love him oml everyone say happy birthday even though its late

"They say clothes make the pros, ladies and gentlemen. And behold you are the proof." all might spoke, smiling brightly as everyone exited the changing rooms.

You walked out in a group, making it difficult to see everyones costumes, but you caught a glimpse of some that were rather cool. All Might seemed to think as well his words being "This is getting me all ramped up, you look so cool!" He really is too excited for his own good.

As everyone had finally taken their places, standing scattered in a bunch of costume-clad teens, you could finally look around and take in some of the impressive ideas your classmates had. Momo, wearing a quite revealing one-piece that was a beautiful red, contrasting with a yellow belt. It was showy, but you wouldn't say she looked anything less than badass.

Might be difficult to fight her while she wears it, though. You would want any mishaps to happen for the perverts around here, or in here.

"Woah! L/n I like your costume! It fits your quirk, haha" Momo approached you, as she laughed joyfully.

It better. This hero suit design had been in the works since you were just a preschooler. A skin-tight silver body suit that stops in the middle of your thigh. Two purple stripes going down either side from the shoulder down. A zipper, metal obviously, by the slightly turtlenecked top that goes halfway down your bust. On your hands, purple fingerless gloves, with concealed brass knuckles to benefit hand to hand combat.

Then, around your left thigh, a garter that also served as storage for small capsules of your own blood, just in case you're in need of something metal, and would be at risk if you cut yourself. The capsules are secured in little pockets around the garter, a pop of red to the otherwise shiny grey costume.

However, the favorite part ever since you were little, was the boots. They were a shiny purple that rose tightly up to your lower thighs, they were fireproof material with removable silver heels. Why? Well so that you can shoot them off using your quirk at any point in battle,or, if liquified, could be used to make you float.

This was an idea you and your mom thought of after seeing a movie where a girl shot bullets from her high heels, she told you that that was a badass woman moment, and ever since badass has been your favorite compliment to give. That was at age 7. Finishing off the costume you wore thick silver and purple glasses that scanned objects for metals and told you what metals they were, to make things easier to manipulate and multiply.

"I-am sorry-"

"L/n!"

"Sorry, um thanks! Yours looks badass, too. "

"Thanks L/n."

The two of you made your way over to jirou and continued to talk, or try to talk while stuttering. As they spoke to you, subconsciously you kept on the lookout for Todoroki. He was nowhere to be seen in the mess of teens, but you did spot Midoriya having what looked to be a seizure as he conversed with a very revealed Uraraka. She looked beautiful,too. Even though her suit was skin tight, it fit her well, showing her curves in a modest but flattering way. Her most gorgeous feature,though, was her hair, so instead of your eyes lingering on her body in its glory, you found yourself entranced with the shine of her hair, and the blush on her cheeks.

Even though you were stuck in your own attempts at conversation, not paying attention to the half and half boy anymore, he was paying attention to you. His eyes stuck to your face as it smiled and your eyes when they brightened. Wandering down to your chest, luckily zipped up and away from the observing eye, your curves every little dip around your waist and hip, your legs, thigh, calf, all the muscles you'd worked to obtain since childhood. Todoroki was entranced by you, and how you looked like a hero already.

He wondered if the girls had made you their friend since you were shy, if they took you in and wanted to be your friend since you didn't have the words to ask them yourself. If so, should he do the same? It seemed to work for them, he might need to re-think his plan.

You both were brought away from your separate places as Iida spoke.

"This is the fake city from our entrance exam." He spoke robotically, from inside a full armored suit.

You looked around, not previously noticing this was indeed one the cities from the exam. "Will we be conducting urban battles again?"

"Not quite,I'm going to move you two steps ahead!" All Might gestured the number two with his fingers.

"Most of the villain fights you see on the news happen outside. However, statistically speaking, the most disastrous villain fights happen indoors. Think about it, backroom deals, home invasions,secret underground layers. Truly intelligent criminals stay hidden in the shadows. For this training exercise you'll be split into heroes and villains and perform two on two battles."

The girl from lunch, with the frog quirk, spoke up, "Isn't this a little advanced?"

The pro simply smiled "The best training is what you get on the battlefield,"

"Wouldn't call this a battlefield.." you mumbled, looking around at all your classmates who you supposed would be villains soon. How did he expect other hero students to be able to play the villain? You understood that getting in a villain's mind might be important, but really how good could anyone do?

"But remember you can just punch a robot this time, you're dealing with actual people now."

"Sir, will you be the one deciding who wins?"

"How much can we hurt the other team?"

"Do we need to worry about the losers getting expelled like earlier-"

-

You walked down the concrete path keeping All Mights words in mind.

"The situation is this: the villains have hid a nuclear missile somewhere in their hideout. The heroes must try to soil their plans. To do that the good guys either have to catch the evil do-ers, or apprehend the weapon. Likewise the bad guys succeed if they protect their payload or capture the heroes."

Next to you stood a tall, blonde haired boy with a tail, he'd asked you to call him ojiro. The two of you, much to your dislike, were meant to play villains. Another dislike, you'd be going up against Shoto Todoroki and Mezo Shoji. After thinking it through, you figured they could use Shoji's ears and other heightened senses to find the two of you, and Todoroki would probably just freeze you. How could you fight if you couldn't move, right? Wrong.

Ferrokinesis is the manipulation of metal through the mind. You had especially trained yourself to combat without using a single bone in your body, it just takes concentrated breathing. It might have been nice to inform your partner of that, to ease his mind, and maybe plan some sort of strategy, but you haven't been able to speak outside of greeting him. Thus, you entered the tall building silently and stood by the missile, waiting for the "Heroes" to come.

"Uhm, L/n, did what happened earlier make this whole thing a lot more...scary?" He began, startling you by initiating conversation.

"Um, what do you mean by that? Like Midoriya and Bakugou fighting?" You questioned, a lot more comfortable considering you were just alone with him.

"Yeah, like seeing how real it can get, you know.." his face screamed nervousness, and that really wouldn't help the two of you, plus you needed to get into a villain mindset, still.

"No, you see, the fact that things might get more real now, it'll only help us. Recovery girl is there to heal any injuries later, so I say we should all fight like that. Well, not like- I- you"

"I get it."

"Uhm, yeah, if we all give it one hundred and ten percent, that's how we will actually get better, and maybe learn how to handle ourselves in different situations. If things go bad now, it'll be easy, we just get really angry and mean like bakugou, perfect villains, ha"

"Heheh, yeah, your right L/n"

"S-yeah, thanks"

You suddenly felt cold rising from below, guess you were right about that. Feeling proud of yourself, you decided to indulge the part of the villain just a bit more. Earlier had simply been two kids talking, but now, you'd strut your heels and be the scariest female they'd ever seen, or try at least.

"Mmm, why must heroes be so predictable!" You stomped and let out a crazed pout.

Ojiro was taken back by your sudden behavioral change, not knowing how you and dad used to play hero and villain all the time. His eyebrows raised in question at your statement, and he took a few steps away. The task to become villains totally forgotten as he watched you throw a fit.

"Damn todoroki, it's cold up here now! Don't you fools get it. Missiles need heat. C'mon then pretty boy, hurry up and freeze us so we can see that dumb hero smirk! I know you want too~" You were talking to the floor, swinging your arms and legs around as you paced back and forth. Trying your best not to overthink the cheesy, embarrassing words coming from your mouth.

"Frozen?"

Turning to your partner you shot him a smirk, "Yeah, pretty boy thinks he can immobilize us from outside, pft. How silly of him, thinking I'd go down without dinner first." Your words were getting out of hand. Was this what villains were like, or were you just hiding some secret vulgar persona? He was confused until he saw the strained tears building in your wide eyes. You were doing this against your own nature, trying your best to succeed.

"So then, um L/n, you must have quite the plan to escape these pros and keep our missile intact, hahaha" His fake laughs were nowhere near as good as yours, but it eased you that he was trying.

Meanwhile, Shoji was waiting behind Todoroki, face completely red and eyes wide. He heard your comments easily, and was completely frozen on the image of, well, what you had insinuated.

"Why are you red?" todoroki questioned, as his teammate looked incredibly flustered. Had he done something to fluster shoji? He didn't think so.

"G-go, um, L/- she" he short circuited before he could finish, being completely flustered and no longer functional.

"Alright..."

Todoroki continued his way up the several floors of the building now covered in ice, having been told where the two of you were hiding along with the missile. His feet crunched loudly against the ice covered floors, a smirk residing on his face. The boy was a little upset at first that his first interaction with you would be like this.

However, images of his father in his mind made him remember his purpose for being here. He was supposed to be the best, and you were supposed to be a villain. Number one heroes dont take pity on a villain just because she's cute.

"This quirk is insane," He heard your partner speak before entering the room. Upon showing his face, Ojiro was quick to take a defensive stance, while you were off in the corner of the room, leaning against a wall, feet equally stuck to the ground.

"Pry yourself up if you want, but it might be hard to fight me with no skin on the bottom of your feet." He smirked.

Shoto was continuing to walk towards the missile, thinking he'd won. Until he heard two little clicks from the corner.

"God, they really have to stop catering these trainings to my quirk, pft. God, ice is slippery."

His head shot up at the sound of your voice, your feet seemed to be free of ice, and the floor where they had been stuck showed two irregular lumps of stiff concrete. How? He thought you manipulated metal? Were there metals in concrete?

"God, I really do love these glasses," you tapped them. "Make my life a lot easier, less scientific novels and what not." the voice you had was so casual, were you pretending to be shy this whole time? Or were you just a really good fake villain. He felt like you were a real villain, eyes perking up a bit at the idea of a challenge.

"Lets see, how many walls do you think I could drop on you before the building collapses? Two, maybe three? Or I could just tie you up, huh?"

He smirked, "Oh really, shy-girl? I'd like to see you try.."

His words shot through your act like a bullet, piercing you right in the heart. His voice should not be allowed to sound like that. It's unfair, cheating even. Your face changed from confident to wavering and hands began sweat. Could you really hurt him? You saw bakugou hurt midoriya earlier, he did it like second nature, but you wanted to be a hero, learn about villains and put them away, so you proceeded. This was your chance to show off your combat skills.

Zipping down the zipper on your chest, you remove the tiny holder for it, causing it to fall in your palm and begin to liquify. Your glasses told you the different metals in it, and that allowed you to focus on multiplying them, closing your eyes as the liquid began to grow.

Your partner was staring between the two of you, hoping whatever you were about to do was successful, since his feet really did hurt. Suddenly your finger began making a circular movement, the metallic liquid mimicking it. It flowed in a ring of silver around your middle body.

"Metal is a fun element, you know. It's easily found in almost every environment, easy to hide, and disobeys many scientific theories. Like this liquid metal here, it looks normal, but it only gets this way by becoming scorching hot." You winked at no one in particular and swung your finger down in a straight line, a mini-mimic of Iida's air chopping.

The hot fluid melted the concrete in a straight line on the floor, ice and ground in that area being dissolved completely. It felt good to use your power to win, you could tell from his eyes todoroki was scared. Maybe you were stronger than you thought?

Losing, however, was not what he was scared of. The wave of heat that fell over him after your swing sent him into terrible memories. His scar began to itch and burn at the recognition of heat. You saw that, too. How his fear held deeper meaning, and it made you scared of yourself. You didn't want to be a villain anymore, you just wanted this to be over, your eyes almost welled with tears at how mean you'd been, acting like the villain.

"I-um-ugh" Your foot stomped down on the floor, slipping a bit but forcing concrete to envelope the boy's feet, while simultaneously forcing the ground up and the temperature just hot enough to free your partner.

"J-Just, where's Shoji?"

"I'll get him, since you did the fighting here, l/n...." Ojiro stated, running out of the room, having been uncomfortable with the tension.

The next words to come out of your mouth should have been expected, but never had they meant so much to todoroki. His eyes were back to normal, face stone once again. Trying to pretend that fear he felt, those memories, were never there. Steel walls being put up once again to hide away hid feelings, but you manipulate metal.

Your e/c eyes shoot to look at the scar around his left eye and then back to his whole face. Taking a few steps closer to him, ignoring the teachers yell of how your team had won, you whispered.

"Im so sorry."

No one else would understand it, not the other students watching intently from the observation room, not your partners downstairs, but he did. Shoto heard those words, and felt your eyes lingering on it, and his chest got tight. You knew, and you didnt call it ugly, and you stopped using heat because you knew.

It was your job to be the villain at any cost, but you worked harder to not use heat. You weren't just sorry for scaring him, but for the fact that he had to be scared. So he spoke to you, for the first serious time, saying the only words that felt appropriate.

"Thank you."

[i-found-your-shoe]

Where My Demons Hide - Part 2

[Sam Winchester, Reader, Dean Winchester; Eventual Sam x Reader]

Your sobs were muffled as you buried your head deep into Sam's heavy flannel shirt. He wrapped his arms around you and held you as you shook, patiently waiting for you to calm down. It took about 10 minutes, but you were finally able to catch your breath.

“I'm sorry.” you whispered, laying a hand on a particularly wet spot on his chest. “I fell asleep waiting on you. I - all I could see were the flames.”

Sam raised a calloused hand and gently wiped the tears from your face with his thumb. “It's alright. I heard you scream through the wall. Thought I'd better check on you.”

You furrowed your brow. “Thanks. I guess.. I feel like a terrible daughter. I thought my father was losing it. I - I never believed him… Never believed that something bad was going to happen.”

“Look, (y/n), it's… Normal. If this, hunting, wasn't my life, I wouldn't believe it either. I wouldn't believe that demons walked the earth. Or angels. Or monsters. You're not a bad daughter.” Sam got to his knees and rested himself on his heels. “You gonna stay under there all night or do you need help up?”

You smiled sheepishly and bit your lip. “I need help up.”

Sam got to his feet and reached out. You took his hand, still slightly damp from wiping your face, and let him pull you to your feet.

“There's a bar down the road. You wanna get a drink with me?” you paused. “Oh,I'm - I don't mean to be rude. You're probably exhausted.”

“I could use a drink.” There was that grin again. It was small. Barely there. Shy. But it crinkled his bright hazel eyes in just the right places.

Sam told Dean you were borrowing the car and let you give directions as the Impala ambled out of the parking lot. Once inside the bar, you had five hours until last call and you were determined to use them well.

Sam impressed you with the fact that he had been going to school to be a lawyer, as you both sipped your Jack Daniels slowly. You could see the disappointment in himself hiding behind his eyes when he revealed he had dropped out.

“Don't worry. I almost dropped out of Oxford.” you shrugged, draining your glass and holding it up to signal a need for a refill. “Stanford was lucky to have you while you were there.”

“I can't believe you went to Oxford. That's amazing. Really impressive.”

“Stanford is impressive, as well.”

The grin and chuckle. God, it made your knees weak. “I think Oxford is a little more impressive, (y/n).”

“Probably.” You winked at Sam as the bartender filled your glass. “I was actually aiming for a PhD in physics. But we see how that turned out.”

Sam motioned for a refill. His cheeks were a nice shade of pink, courtesy of Jack. “God, smart and hot. I'm impressed.”

You chatted for hours, the bar tab rising steadily with the minutes. Finally, you checked your watch. “Fucking hell. It's almost 2. We should be going.” you slid over your bank card and swiftly signed the receipt.

Sam stood and wobbled, holding onto the chair for balance. “I….cannot drive.”

“Let's walk.” you giggled. “we'll grab the car in the morning.” Sam waited while you let the bartender know that the Impala would be picked up first thing. He offered to call a cab, but you denied it, saying you were less than a mile away from your destination. Slowly making your way back to Sam, you took his arm. “Let's go, cowboy.” and the two of you swayed out the door, using each other for balance.

When you finally made it back to the motel, you paused at the door. “This may be incredibly forward of me.. And I promise no funny business… But -” you paused, your head suddenly swimming with more than the whiskey. Adrenaline and nervousness clawed behind your eyes and in your stomach. “I don't want to be alone while I sleep. I don't want -” you didn't finish your sentence but Sam understood, even in his inebriated state. You didn't want the nightmare to come back.

He silently followed you into your room and waited as you sat your key down on the night stand. Your room was a bit smaller than theirs. No couch, and only one bed. On the plus side, it was a king. On the minus side, you hadn't shared a bed with anyone in a long time.

“Um.. I'm gonna get changed.. You…. Make yourself comfortable.”

You eyeballed your suitcase. You weren't even sure what was packed in there and you were nervous to check. Finally, you gathered enough nerve to barely unzip the bag halfway and pull out the first shirt you saw. With eyes to the floor, anxiety rising in your chest, you made your way to the bathroom. When you returned to the room, you noticed Sam had discarded his jeans, shoes, and shirt and curled up under the blanket. Slowly, you crawled into the bed on the opposite side, and made yourself as comfortable as you could. It wasn't long before your eyes began to feel heavy and hot succumbed to a, hopefully, dreamless sleep.

You were awoken the next morning to your door opening and a deep voice saying “Well. Okay, then.”

Your side felt heavy and your nose was filled with an unrecognizable, but comforting, scent. You peeked out of one eye and came face to face with a chest - and a very interesting tattoo. You slowly began to realize that you had curled up against Sam in the middle of the night and he had wrapped an arm around you.

“I got coffee in the pot and a lead whenever you lovebirds are ready.” Dean stated as he left the room.

You sat up quickly and Sam rubbed his eyes. “I'm sorry. I've been told I'm a heat-seeking missile.” your cheeks burned red as he dragged his arm from around your waist.

Sam rubbed your arm, attempting to comfort you in your obviously embarrassed state. “As long as you slept well.”

“Yeah. I did.” You groaned as you stretched. “Fuck. I need coffee. With a touch of the hair of the dog that bit me.”

“I got you. Get changed and meet me next door. Dean can make motel coffee taste like actual coffee.”

You nodded and got out of bed, trying to pull your shirt down so you didn't expose your ass. If you did, and if he noticed, he said nothing.

You finally made your way over, after reaching blindly into your suitcase and finding a pair of yoga shorts, and rapped your knuckles against the door. Dean opened the door a crack and whispered, “you didn't use the secret knock.”

“I didn't know there was -” you blushed again.

“I'm messing with you, sweetheart.” he laughed as he opened the door and ushered you in.

“Sorry. I think I'm still a tad bit drunk.”

Sam raised his hand from his position on the bed. He was laying back with his legs over the edge and his other arm draped over his eyes. “I - I am still drunk.”

“Here. This’ll help.” Dean handed you a coffee mug and the sharp aroma of Jack Daniels smacked you in the face.

“Is there coffee in this?” you asked, staring at the mug.

“Eh.. A little.” Dean chuckled as he looked at your shirt. It was emblazoned with Princess Leia’s face and the words ‘A Woman's Place is in the Resistance.’ “Nice shirt.”

“What can I say? I'm kind of a feminist.” you shrugged, taking a long drink of coffee. “Oh, yes. That's what I needed.”

“Pfft, feminist, my ass.”

“Anything you can do, I can do better. And if not better, at least backwards and in heels.” You sat down on the bed next to Sam, and you must have jostled him because he placed his free hand on his stomach. “Sorry,” you muttered, but he waved you off, letting out a slow, deep breath and sitting up as well.

“Not hunting, sweetheart. Nobody hunts better than me.” Dean raised his eyebrow as he handed Sam a cup of coffee.

“What if you taught me?” you asked, eyes widening as Dean choked in his own coffee.

“I vaguely remember us talking about that last night. Didn't think it would be brought up first thing in the morning, though.” Sam groaned, taking a drink of his coffee.

“Listen, sweetheart. This job takes a lot more than just a pretty face. It's tough -” Dean interjected.

“I'm tough. Don't let the pretty face fool you, Angsty McBroodyArse, I'm more than meets the eye. I'm smart. I'm a quick learner. I'm a damn good shot. I studied Krav Maga for 12 years.” you glared at Dean and Sam raised an eyebrow. “The only shoes I own now are the combat boots I was wearing last night. You might not get me in flannel, but I look damn good in leather. And I live on four basic food groups; coffee, whiskey, bacon, and cheeseburgers.”

“I don't know what kind of pretty picture Sammy painted last night, but it ain't all sunshine, roses, and hookers. You give up a lot to lead a life like ours.”

“Please explain to me what I have left to give up. My only family is gone. My house is gone. I haven't had a job, friends, or a relationship in 4 years. I have nothing to lose. I'd go back to England, but I'm sure I need to remain stateside until I can get bank documents and insurance forms squared away. I have nothing but time and money, Dean.”

“Yeah, come on, Dean. What's the harm?” Sam asked, glancing at you sideways.

“Three months. Give me three months, Dean. That should be long enough for me to get down the basics, as well as some in-field experience. Plus getting my assets in order. If it's not working out in 90 days, I will go without a fight.”

Dean pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. “Fine. Three months. 90 days. Sammy, she's your problem, not mine. I don't teach.”

You squealed and jumped up to hug Dean. “Oh, bad idea.” you moaned, letting go of him to grab your head. You had stood up too fast and made your still-drunk self dizzy. You waited for the feeling to pass, and when it did, you opened your eyes and grinned at the boys like an idiot. “So, you said you had a lead?”

[woozletania]

Sanctuary (RR/GOTG slice of life)

It started one day in the most innocuous way imaginable: nothing more dramatic than an E-mail. "Hey Rock," Quill said, slumped back in the pilot's chair idly scanning the screen as he helped Rocket work on a problem with the Milano. "Got a letter from your doctor friend." "Those're always good," Rocket replied, his head and body down to the armpits inside a panel working on control connections.  "Try the upper right aileron control." Star-Lord obediently pressed a control and Rocket made a happy noise from inside the console, his ringed tail twitching in not-quite-a-wag.  Peter went on. "Weird thing is the subject line is public but the body is locked, or I'd read it to you. All I can see is 'P. Foster' and 'It's happening again'." There was a dull bang from inside the console as Rocket's tail went stiff. Peter watched curiously as a hand appeared, set down a wrench.  Rocket's voice was deadly calm. "Read that again, Pete." "'It's happening again.' That's all I can read, man." "Oh.  Okay then." The hand grabbed the wrench and Rocket worked briefly, then slid back into view.  As usual he was covered with dust and smears of grease but a spot of bloody fur over one eye showed where he'd hit his head.  "That'll hold it.  I gotta hit the can." Gamora came up the stairs just as Rocket went down and the little raccoon pushed past her with even worse manners than usual. The green-skinned assassin took one look at the open panel and discarded tools the raccoon left in his wake and came to the obvious conclusion.  "In the middle of something?  Mantis has lunch ready." "I guess.". Peter fiddled with the controls, watching the indicators as he tried the various control surfaces, thrusters and engines.  "Looks like it's all working. Figure Rocket will want to work on it more though, he doesn't leave his personal tool kit just lying where everyone can get at it unless he's in the middle of something." But Rocket didn't show up at lunch and didn't answer when Mantis knocked on his door.  Weirdly enough he'd even locked Groot out and the tree, a little taller than the raccoon now and going through early teenage crankiness, spent two minutes banging on the door until Rocket finally swore and opened it. "What? I was just doin' some stuff." Groot handed him back his tools, which got a grunt of something like 'thanks' from the raccoon, who then finally emerged and locked the door behind him. Drax happened by just then and the three made their way to the common area for a belated lunch. Peter, Gamora and Mantis were all there around the table and Mantis reached out without thinking to pet Rocket, seeing from the angle of his ears that he was in a bad mood.  Rocket was a lot more likely to let someone pet him these days but this time he flinched away and sat by himself, grabbing one of the sandwiches from the platter without a word. Seeing Rocket in a bad mood was nothing new but he was usually nicer to Mantis than this and Peter spoke up.  "Was that letter bad news, Rock?" "Oh that," Rocket grunted between bites.  "Not really. He did say he met another guy who's up on my model of cybernetics and that I should have him take a quick look next time I'm in the area.  So I wanna swing by Kopleth today, since we're between money runs." "Kopleth?  Dull place, but I guess," Peter said.  There was nothing but the sound of munching and Drax loudly slurping soup after that until Rocket finished eating. The second the door to his room closed, though, the conversation started up again. "You don't believe him, do you?" Said Gamora. "Not for a second," Quill replied. "I am Groot," said the sapling. "Yes," rumbled Drax.  "He had his weapons out and a bag of bombs half packed when I saw into his room for a moment.  Whatever he's going to Kopleth for, it is not to see a doctor." Gamora's smart pad beeped, and she read the message before turning the screen so the others could see.  It was from Nebula. 'Not supposed to tell you this, but he's in your crew.  Rocket just asked me to help him kill some people.  Something going on I should know about?' Rocket should have known that on a ship this small it was impossible to keep secrets.  Perhaps he did, because when they arrived on Kopleth and he made his way down the docking ramp, bag-full-o-guns over his shoulder, it was an expression of resignation more than anything else that crossed his face when he found his friends waiting at the bottom. "Before you say anything," he said.  "This isn't anything you want to be a part of. It's personal business." Gamora held up her smart pad once more.  'If you are reading this I am dead, on the run or in jail. The bounty on me will be huge if it's the middle one, so I'll understand if you come after me. It was something I had to do. No apologies.' Rocket groaned.  "That was supposed to be time locked until tomorrow." "Not when I know to look," Gamora said.  "And I knew something was going on." "Yes," said Nebula as she stepped off her ship.  "What is going on, fox?" "It's happening again," Rocket said a little later in the Milano's common area.  "I can't let it happen again. Never again." "What's going on, buddy?" Rocket sat with his ears down and his little clawed hands between his knees. He counted the grenades on his belt, twice, before continuing.  "Doc Foster got a job offer.  They knew he worked at Halfworld and gave him a virtual tour of the new facility.  Animal Uplift.  Cybernetic implants.  Vivisection. Euthanizing the subjects when they were done.  Somehow they had data files from the Halfworld complex. There must have been a backup elsewhere and now it's all happening again." There were no tears in the raccoon's eyes. Just determination. "If I have to spend the rest of my life in a cell to stop this, I'll do it. Every one of these bastards has to die. But research like this is legal on Kopleth. I'm going, but the rest of you oughta get out of here now. 'Cept maybe the lady who already has a giant bounty on her bald head," he said, nodding to Nebula. "You're not going, buddy," Star-Lord said.  "Not without me." "There will be heavy security, yes?" Drax asked, and Rocket nodded.  "Then I will not be left out of a good fight." "And if my sister goes, I go," said Gamora.  Nebula just smiled. "You don't get it," Rocket said.  "We spent the last year building up a reputation. This could destroy it.  If it's just me you can say I was a rogue. I'm expendable." "No," Gamora said, and everyone (except maybe Nebula) said together, "You aren't." Rocket sighed.  Not surprised, just a little sad.  Peter spoke up next.  "So you got a plan, little buddy?" "'Course I got a plan," Rocket mumbled.  "Always got a plan." "One that involves all of us, not just you?" "Told you," Rocket said with the beginning of a smile.  "I always got a plan." And that's why it was that Drax, armed with a missile launcher of Rocket's own design, Gamora with her plasma rifle and Quill with his pistols stormed the front of the complex to draw attention away from the back, while Rocket, Rocket-sized Groot and Nebula, whose cybernetics made her eerily flexible, entered via the ductwork Rocket had identified from the schematics he'd studied. Some of the vents were too small for even Nebula and so they soon separated with a whispered "Kill only when necessary," for Rocket eventually allowed himself to be reminded that not everyone they encountered would be a monster. Yet the first thing he did was drop out of an air vent onto the shoulders of a Xandarian who was cutting open a black-furred creature, dig his claws into the man's throat and rip it out. "Nod if you understand," he whispered, undoing the furry thing's restraints even as the researcher toppled over. It nodded, and Rocket slapped an emergency medical patch over the hole the "doctor" had put in the long-eared creature and gestured for it to follow him. There was a thump against the wall nearby, probably Nebula shattering some fool's skull, and a black-clad security guard popped through a door only to get a chest full of Rocket's hand-made APX - Armor Piercing Explosive - rounds. The next room had nothing but a few empty cages and bloodstained operating tables, though Rocket reflexively pocketed a handful of servo components from a table. Distant shouts and gunfire meant the other Guardians were fighting their way in and this place clearly wasn't built and staffed to withstand a major assault, which was just what you got when Gamora and Drax led an attack. "I am Groot?" The black-furred test subject jumped when a three-foot-tree man man his appearance but Rocket just smiled.  "Yeah, can you get that door?". He'd been about to blast the armored portal but Groot's strength was all out of proportion to his size and his tendrils ripped the thing from its hinges. "Jackpot!" Cages, test subjects - and a couple of guards.  Rocket got one before they recovered from the sudden disappearance of the armored door and speed and small size gave him the advantage he needed to take out the other. "Get 'em out, get 'em out!" He blew away what he recognized as a cybernetics jammer mounted just outside the row of cages and Groot ripped the door off the nearest just as a white-jacketed researcher appeared.  Rocket hesitated to shoot an unarmed man and thus made a mistake that would make him wake staring at the ceiling and shaking for years afterward. The man didn't need a gun to smash his hand into a panic button and the result was clouds of green poison gas spraying from nozzles on the ceiling. "Shit!  Hurry!" The furthest cages were already out of sight in a cloud of poison, as was the researcher, and Rocket resorted to shooting the locks off the cages he could still see.  Half shaved, cybernetic implant-studded animals of several unfamiliar species  leapt out and ran for the door and Rocket cursed as he shot the lock off a cage that held a shivering yellow-furred creature curled in a ball as far away from the bars as it could get. He had already breathed more of the green gas than he liked and all he could do was grab the thing and yank it out of the cage. Mistake.  He should have known it would panic and with an animalistic shriek the long, flexible yellow creature wrapped around him like a snake and sank sharp fangs into his neck. The spray of red told him he was in real trouble but Rocket was no stranger to pain and he grabbed a gas-added creature from another cage and staggered for the door, weighed down by two of them and passing the handheld one off to Groot as he made it through the doorway and slammed it shut. Everything still alive in that room wouldn't be that way for long and he wasn't doing so good either. The whiskery muzzle was still clamped down on the side of his neck and Groot had to help him run the few dozen yards to daylight. What he saw when he burst into the light astonished him.  Not just the Guardians but hovering Nova fighters, not to mention ground troops who had rounded up a dozen white-coated researchers and were similarly trying to keep track of at least that many research animals.  His keen ears picked up the argument going on between a Nova officer - he recognized Dey - and what must be the head researcher.  "No authority here - research animals, perfectly legal," and something about "Murderous thugs." Rocket ignored the blood running down his chest, got his fingers into the scruff of the yellow thing slowly killing him with its bite and whispered, "Listen - all of you Subjects, listen, say this -" "Rocket!" Quill came running as Rocket's vision began to gray around the edges, blood loss and gas, and Gamora right behind him. No sign of Nebula of course, she'd wisely taken a powder. Just then the yellow thing's fangs came out of his neck and it said, slowly and clearly to the nearest Nova corpsman: "In accordance with the Uniform Sapience Act -" "No!" The head researcher tried to intervene, only for Drax to clothesline him to the ground. "I request sanctuary on the basis of inhumane treatment," the yellow thing said, and the other animals repeated "Sanctuary, sanctuary," and the less Uplifted  or vocal ones spitting out the syllables the way he used to, "sanct-u-ary," And then Rocket was falling over, weighed down by the yellow thing and never so happy in his life to hear one word.  It'd all been worth it.  Live or die, it was so worth it. ***** 'So, not dead,' were Rocket's first thoughts when he woke.  His neck hurt, his chest hurt, and oddly enough his leg hurt too. And the second thing that passed through his mind when he opened his eyes was how familiar the metal ceiling looked. "Why am I not in jail," he mused, and Peter jerked upright in the chair next to the bunk, dropping the Zune headphones he'd been tinkering with. A strange animal chirp came from low down, out of his range of vision, but it hurt to turn his neck so he couldn't see what made it. "Rocket!  Hey, everybody, he's awake!" In an instant the room was crowded with the crew, and even Nebula, and Rocket realized he was in Peter's quarters on board the Milano. The captain's cabin, if you could call it that, was about fifteen percent larger than the space he had before he turned it into a lifeboat and started sleeping in his round padded bed. "I have lots of questions," Rocket said, and then there was another, because a sleek yellow head sporting long, familiar whiskers popped into view as well. He'd never gotten a good look at it but this was indisputably the creature that nearly killed him.  He was too tired and sore to hold that against her.  "I guess they all fall under 'what happened'." "Peter had an idea," Gamora said, and Mantis smiled as she gently scratched Rocket's ears.  "A good one, for a change." "Thanks Gamora," Pete said sourly.  "I called Nova Corps before we went to the compound to see if I could get them to look the other way for a little while as we took off for our new outlaw lives.  When I explained what was going on to Dey he said the following," with that he pointed at Drax. "Animal research is legal in many places," the giant intoned.  "But as far as Nova is concerned, Uplift, or at least the abuse of the resulting sapients is legal nowhere." Peter grinned. "Since Kopleth has no military to speak of they couldn't do much when a Nova troop transport and escorts showed up. Even medics who patched you up, though it was a near thing. You had nerve gas in your system, a nicked artery in your neck and a splinter from a ricochet or something in your calf below the armor." "So we're not outlaws," Rocket said wonderingly.  "What about the research subjects?" "Under Nova supervision," Gamora said.  "To be granted full sapient rights and a share of the penalty fines being assessed against the company.  And we get a share of that too." "Free money!" Pete cheered.  "A reward for just doing good things!" "What about her?" Rocket looked at the whiskery creature, seeing the bolts almost concealed by her fur where the artificial collarbones lay.  He had bolts like that, too. "Her?" Pete looked puzzled.  "You mean 96L02?" "Subject Nine-Six-Lima-Zero-Two reports as ordered, sir," the creature said, and stood up as straight as its long cylindrical body allowed. Rocket winced. "Damn it Pete, you know better than that.  That's not a name and she - yeah, you bald bodies have no noses I know but she is a she - is conditioned to respond to that number.  I don't want to hear one of you say it again. Ever." He reached over to see how she would react, careful not to touch, and webbed hands/forepaws clasped his fingers.  "Rocket," she chirped.  "So so-ree I bit you." "I woulda done the same thing," Rocket said.  "Ask Pete. He got the scars to prove it.  Now we need to get you a name." She stood bolt upright. "Subject Nine-Six-Lima-" "No!" She shrank back, her little low-set ears sinking.  "That was what they called you. You don't belong to them now.  You can have any name you want." "But I don't have a name," she chirped. Do you know the names of the researchers?" "Rocket," Peter said firmly.  "You are not naming her after guys you killed to get her out." "Hey, it worked for me.  And I only killed four anyway." "I am Groot." "That guy killed himself," Rocket said, and that brought back bad memories.  "How many got out?  Test subjects that is." "Thirteen," Gamora said, "But one died from gas exposure. Before you ask, including the one in the operating room there were twenty-six in various stages of Uplift." Rocket swore, but Peter cut him off.  "Subject-" and the yellow creature stood bolt upright, "Er, Lima told us what happened.  Rocket, I was the one who told you not to shoot people who weren't a threat. It's my fault.  And if we'd all gone in the front, which was my plan, they would have gassed them all.  Your plan got some of them out and would have got them all out if you hadn't listened to me. So blame me, not yourself." "It's all right," Rocket grunted.  "I woulda hesitated anyway.  Didn't think a guy would kill himself just to get rid of some Subjects." Lima stood bolt upright at the word. "Why is she doing that, Rock?  You don't do that when people say 89P-" Rocket let out an inarticulate growl and Pete stopped. "Oh yeah, you killed all the people who called you that." "Except Doc Foster," but then Lima was gripping his clawed hand again in her webby ones. "Why are you so angry, Rocket," she chirped, and Pete smothered a laugh. "'Cause I was made to be angry. To be a weapon.  You don't have to be like me, Lima." "I'm not," she said immediately.  "I am for linguistics, and diplomacy, and companionship. I am to be cute." And with her whiskers and ink-dark eyes she certainly was. "No! You don't gotta be what they made you.  You can be whatever you want." "I don't know what I want to be," she chirped, and Rocket smiled sadly. "Welcome to the club, lady." One by one the others wished him goodnight and left for their beds, for it was very late indeed.  He'd apparently been granted Peter's cabin until he recovered, though he protested that he didn't need anywhere near that much space. "You're in no shape to curl up to sleep," Peter said.  "You need a real bed." I've got a real bed, and it's round, Rocket thought but did not say. That brought it to mind when Lima dropped down to all fours and curled up on a wadded-up blanket. "Groot," Rocket mumbled, and then spoke up despite his sore chest. "Groot!" "I am Groot?"  Naturally, the tree had been resting right outside the door.  He wasn't going anywhere until he was sure Rocket was fully recovered. "Get my bed, please." "I am Groot?" "No, it's not for me. Pete will yell at me if he has to sleep on a bunk and I don't use the bed he's lent me. And yeah, I'm too sore to curl up.  But look," Rocket said, and gestured at Lima. "I am Groot." "Thanks, pal." A moment later the tree was back with the round, padded bed, the one embroidered with "Rocket" and the Ravager symbol. Rocket knew perfectly well it was a pet bed Pete picked up on Earth but Pete never lorded that over him (which showed he had an active survival instinct) and the thing was damn comfortable. "Lima."  The yellow creature - Rocket was sure there was a species name for her, but he had no idea what it was except that she was clearly designed for an aquatic life - popped her head up out of the nest of blankets. "Use this.  It's comfy." She slithered out of the blankets on her short web-footed legs and gave it a sniff. "It smells like you, Rocket." "Yeah, I sleep in it, but you need it more than I do right now." "Are you sure?" "Yeah." Rocket smiled as she curled up in a ball in the padded bed, just as he did.  She was long and sinuous compared to his more humanoid build, but she still fit perfectly into the thing. There was a time he and Groot shared the thing every night, but Groot was too big now.  That had taken a lot of getting used to.  For years he'd slept in leafy beds Groot grew each night, then he and mini-Groot shared various beds, and then ultimately it was just Rocket, and now it was just Lima, or whatever her name would eventually be. "Good night, Lima.  Tomorrow we'll talk about your name." And that would have been the end of it, except that later, when the ship lights were turned down to a dim glow, Rocket was woken by a familiar sound.  A nervous chattering, whining, and the sound of claws on fabric. Lima was in the midst of a nightmare.  He'd heard all these sounds before from himself, and heard them described to him. She twitched in the round bed, and whined, and he had all too good an idea of what she was dreaming about. He'd always been the one to wake screaming, or shivering. Peter had the occasional nightmare, and with good reason, but he was stronger than Rocket.  Or maybe his nightmares didn't involve being strapped down and cut open.  Rocket didn't know what Pete had nightmares about.  Ego? The Ravagers?  His mother dying?  Yondu? He did know how Pete had helped him with his own night terrors, though. Rocket winced as he sat up, and using the cabin chair as a stepping stool (not something he'd normally need) finally made it to the floor.  He was tough, he healed fast, but the nerve gas had really done a number on him.  Stapled-up wounds in neck and leg didn't hurt half as much as his chest but he dropped to all fours and padded over to the round bed an its occupant. Peter, much larger than himself, had just petted him or rubbed his back to get him to relax.  Lima was as big as he was, though, and the only way he could see to make her feel safe was to crawl into the round bed and snuggle up next to her. She moved in her sleep and soon her whiskery muzzle rested on his shoulder next to his own. Bit by bit she shifted and he moved with her until they were curled up together.  If it weren't for their dramatically different fur colors and body shapes it'd be hard to tell where one ended and the other began. By the time they were snuggled up together she had relaxed, the shivering tension gone from her muscles and her breathing slow and relaxed. 'What I should do now is wriggle out of here and bed back on the bed,' Rocket thought.  But he was tired, and sore, and there was something about lying here snuggled up with another furry creature. 'Safe,' Rocket thought as he drifted off to sleep.  'I feel safe.  I hope she does too.'