#ship: hang up our masks

[cigarettesandinevitablebetrayal]

aaaand 7, 38, 44, 80 for mortum/mateo

This is revenge for the questions I asked, isn't it? (/teasing)

Mateo (Marianna)/Mortum

7) Who likes forehead kisses? Who likes hand kisses? Who likes neck kisses?

Mortum gets more forehead kisses, given he's usually seated and doing something, so Marianna just leans over the desk and kisses him. Marianna gets more neck kisses, as Mortum can lean up and kiss her when she's cooking. They both like hand kisses, though Mortum tends to favor palms and Marianna favors fingertips.

38) What would be their ideal evening in?

Curled up in bed with a couple of beers or a bottle of wine, watching some telenovela or silly drama series. No shop talk - unless it's specifically more hobbyist inclined. Just enjoying each other's company. Maybe curling up in bed and relaxing, turning Mortum's displays to scenic views from around the world.

44) Who's more likely to bring the other coffee or breakfast in bed?

Neither wants breakfast in bed because crumbs in bed are the worst. Food, in general, is limited to specific parts of the lab to avoid spills and crumbs on expensive works.

Despite being the earlier riser for not having to sleep (Mateo never stays overnight with Mortum unless he knows Marianna's body is well rested), she will lounge around and pretend to be sleeping because she likes to hear Mortum trying to silently slip from the bed and maneuver around the room to go make them both coffee. Sometimes, he almost slips on one of their shirts on the floor, and she has to bite to keep from laughing as he swears under his breath. But she likes how excited it makes him to feel like he's waking her up being able to surprise her with something small and nice.

80) What tropes could be applied to this relationship?

Opposites Attract

Dark Secret/Secret Identity

Two Person Love Triangle (counting it because Step counts it lol)

Love/Lust Makes You Dumb

Falling in Love with the Wrong Person

Work Colleagues

Love Interest Hates the Other's Occupation

Wanting Different Things

Find More Relationship Questions Here

[slasherscream]

Hi, sorry to bug but I have to yap to someone about this, and I love your ideas. Do you think Nathan Prescott would take his partner’s last name if he ever got married? Would any of the Crazy Ass Boy Gang?

❥ who would take your last name ❥

Nathan Prescott - He would take your last name so quickly it would make your head spin. You’re the first person who’s given meaning to the world family. His sister tried, but when you’re on a sinking ship, there’s only so much you can do. Try too desperately to save the person drowning next to you and you risk going under yourself. So Nathan drowned alone. Until you, that is. Marrying you, becoming part of your family, is absolution for him. He’s not Sean Prescott’s son. He’s Nathan Y/L/N, your husband. 

Jason Dean/JD - It might seem a little strange for JD to be so willing to change his name. His nickname is just his first and last name together, afterall. This was his mother’s last name. But it’s also his father’s. One night he’ll gently wake you , and in the quietest voice you’ve ever heard him use he'll ask you if you’d like him to take your last name. There are so many questions he’s asking, in that one sentence: Do you want me to be yours, unequivocally? Will you bear the weight of that ownership? Am I abandoning my Mother, if I leave her all alone as a Dean, with only him as her company? Will you ask me to take it? Please ask. Please take the weight of the asking away. I can’t abandon her. But I can’t stay, either. Put your arms around him and tell him he’ll make one hell of a Y/L/N.

❥ who would want you to take theirs ❥

Sebastian Valmont - He has genuinely doodled your names together in his journals like a middle schooler. Without a hint of irony: Mr. and Mx. Valmont. Y/N Valmont. Since the moment he fell in love he was planning to marry you and give you his last name. The Valmont name carries weight. It’s legacy. It’s old money. He throws his name around and people fall over themselves to get things done for him. He wants you to throw around his name too. He wants you to embrace every luxury he can give you. One of those luxuries is the power of his family name. Use it.

Billy Loomis - His parent’s marriage failed miserably. He doesn’t even know if his Mother kept the name Loomis. At this point, what does it matter? He fights tooth and nail not to live in the past when he has a future with you to look forward to. So he wants to look forward. He wants to do better than his parents did. He wants to wake up in ten years, twenty, thirty and reach for your hand and know you two succeeded. His family name isn’t doomed to failed promises, runaway spouses, and unfaithfulness. You guys are a better Loomis pair than his parents ever were.

David Mccall - Don’t piss him off. If you even try to hint at wanting to keep your original family name, it will be one of the few times you see David’s mask slip. “What? My name not good enough for you, sweetheart? Marriage is for starting over. It’s for building our lives together, not for hanging onto the past. Thought you loved me.” Every dirty trick he has in his arsenal will be used. Whatever it takes until you give in. Sex. Guilt. Moping. Anger. Don’t push back too hard, or go back and forth on the issue for too long. On your wedding day you’re gonna be Y/N Mccall, come hell or high water. There’s no need for anything drastic to take place just for that to happen, right baby? 

Josh Washington - Josh could never be anything but a Washington. It’s the name he shared with his sisters. It’s the only thing he still shares with his sisters. He used to be able to see them in his face, at least. But now… he’s so different, even that bit of the twins has died. It isn’t right that there are so few Washington's left. Most days Josh isn’t even sure if he’s a Washington anymore. If he’s still Human anymore. But you are. You’re gentle, kind, and so painfully human. Just like the twins were. He might have failed them, hell, he probably failed himself. But he won’t fail you. He has a second chance at a family, and this time you’ll always be safe. 

Sparrow!Ben Hargreeves - Would be so offended if this was even up for debate. Why wouldn’t you be taking his name? Why is it even a discussion? Why does he even have to ask? Will probably say something incredibly mean and unnecessary when you first talk about it. There’s a pit of insecurity in him that no amount of love you can give him will fill. It’s shaped like the love he should have gotten from his father. From his siblings. But the first love he’s ever felt has been yours. But that’s not true for you. You’ve loved people before him. Other people have loved you before he was able to. He needs you to be his. Just his. You’re the only thing in the world that matters that belongs only to him. But there are little pieces of you that will never be just his and it makes him sick. This can fix all that, though! He knows that the security of introducing you as his spouse will be a balm on his soul. He wants tabloids, newspapers, TV, and the radio to all be parroting the words: Y/N Hargreeves. He hopes- no, he knows it will make that hole inside him ache a little less. 

❥ who wants to hyphenate ❥

Jordan Li - Jordan doesn’t want you to give up your identity, who you are, just because you’re marrying them. They also don’t want to change their name, really. Something about not being a Li, despite everything, makes their stomach turn. But marriage is still about coming together. Making two lives so harmonious, so copacetic, that sometimes, if you’re lucky, it becomes one life, shared. Jordan didn’t propose for a long time, afraid of it all going wrong. Of ruining what you have. You helped them believe you two were strong enough to change and grow together. They want your names to reflect that. So, you hyphenate, and you blend, and grow, together. 

Stu Macher - Assumed you would take his last name, but when you pushed back, not sure if you wanted to shirk your family name entirely, Stu had the most relaxed reaction you’ve ever gotten from him about anything. “Okay, why don’t we both change 'em’? We’ll hyphenate! Like Brad Pitt and Angelina, or whatever.” You were expecting a tantrum. Not the easy acceptance that he actually meant for once. The fact is you’re wearing his ring on your finger, and you’re gonna stand in front of all your friends and family and say how much you love him. He’s already won. Why sweat the small stuff? 

Kevin Khatchadourian - Was quite angry when you began to hint at not wanting to change your name. It was the icy, calculated anger that made him dangerous, too. But if you’re marrying him you know how to communicate with him. Reason with him. You don’t want to take his last name because you don’t want to emulate his family. You want to make something of your own with him. You’re not sure how well the words worked until he sets the paperwork down in front of you. Kevin Y/L/N-Khatchadourian. In those small lines of ink, you’ll realize how deep the love Kevin is capable of runs for you. If you squint your eyes those words start to look like: I want us to be different from my parents. He watches you sign the paperwork to change your name, and Kevin has never been more content to give in to one of your demands. Just this once, of course.

A/N: i LOVE a character study question that’s still x reader. you are my favorite person in the world for this one. if you enjoyed these headcanons consider reblogging, leaving a reply, or an anon! a writer's fuel is engagement. xoxoxo

[shankss-magnificent-ass]

Imagine King catching feelings for you

Kaido: ah, there he is, King this is the new navigator for the main ship

King: [eyes you in disinterest] I see

You: hello, I look forward to working with you.

King: I'm sure you do.

You: [ignores his rude comment]

Kaido: would you show them around the ship for me?

King: I suppose

You: [opens the door and gestures to it] Lead the way handsome.

King: [looks at you in surprise]

During a dinner

King: [sees you're not touching your sashimi plate]

You: [notices him looking] Do you like sashimi?

King: ... Yes

You: I'm a tad full at the moment to eat mine, could I get your help with it?

King: [wastes no time taking the platter from you] I take it you don't like sashimi?

You: it's not that, I'm just not in the mood for it.

King: [can't tell if you're lying] Good, because I don't know if I can work with someone who doesn't like sashimi.

You: but it would mean more for you.

King: [pauses because he didn't think of it that way before] ... So you're going to give me all your sashimi from now on?

You: [smiles at him] Maybe, if you've been a good boy.

King: [feels unfamiliar emotions stir within him]

After that dinner

You: [goes to King's rooms] King?... King, Kaido wanted me to deliver this course log to you to review for tomorrow... Huh, I'll just leave it on his desk with a note.

King: [exits the shower with just a towel and sees you kneeling on his desk chair and scribbling something down]

You: [turns around to see him trying to duck into another room] King? Is that you?

King: [freezes, knowing he's been seen]

You: wow, I've never seen you without your mask, [realizes this is a breach of his privacy, so you should your eyes] Oh my God, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to look, I promise I won't say anything to anyone.

King: [grabs his sword and stands over you]

You: [looks up when you hear the blade slide out of the sheath]

King: [feels dread and guilt fill his chest when he sees the look of terror in your eyes]

You: why?

King: I can't let you leave now that you know what I am, the government can't know that I'm still alive. I won't ever go back to being someone else's lab rat.

You: I understand. [Lowers your head in acceptance]

King: [can't bring himself to kill you, so he throws it down] damn it all, get out of my chair.

You: [scrabbles out, and silently watches him sit down and make a call using his den den mushi]

King: Kaido, the new navigator knows

Kaido: ehh? I just got them, do you know how hard it is to find a decent navigator and you're telling me you already killed the brand-new one!

King: I haven't killed them.

Kaido: They escaped you, are they at least wounded?

King: [gets comfortable in his chair] No, they're standing right before me.

You: [had a perfect view of his thighs and the v of his hips peaking out of the towel, and now you can see up his towel, so you look away]

Kaido: what's the hold-up?

King: [sees you looking away, so he leans forward, takes your jaw in his hand, and makes you look at him] We can't afford to lose our only navigator while out at sea. I want to keep them by my side in the meantime.

Kaido: [can tell he's not hearing the full truth] ... As long as it doesn't interfere with their duties, you can do whatever you want with them.

King: thank you

Kaido: now good night [hangs up]

King: [puts down the receiver, and runs his thumb over your lips] ... If you try to leave my sight, I will kill you without hesitation. You will stay by my side, and do everything I say. I do not tolerate disobedience, do you understand me? [Gently shakes you to get his point across]

You: [feels tears well up in your eyes]

King: [feels guilty] I'll have servants bring your things, you'll sleep here, with me, from now on... I'm not doing this to punish you, I'm doing this for my own safety, and because I don't want to kill you.

You: [sniffles] I understand

King: [can hear your distress in your voice and it makes him feel sick] Through that door is the bathroom, go bathe while I make a few calls.

You: [slinks into the other room]

King: [calls the kitchens to deliver your favorite desserts, and calls the servant quarters to have them bring your stuff to his quarters]

After your shower

You: [exits the bathroom wearing a clean kimono]

King: [lounging on the couch, in front of a rather impressive spread of sweets] Your things have been moved into your new room.

You: I'm getting a room all to myself?

King: no, you'll be sleeping with me, I need to know where you are at all times

You: we'll be sharing a bed?!

King: yes, now please help yourself to these sweets, I did order them for you.

You: you did, why? [Goes directly for your favorite dessert]

King: You were distressed, and this was the only way I could think of to help you feel better... Your distress is understandable, I know this isn't ideal for you, being practically chained to my side... And while I can't let you go, I just wanted you to know that... I don't want you to worry or be afraid of me, because I'm not going to hurt you. I can't risk going back to what I was before Kaido, I won't go back to it.

You: ... You mentioned the government earlier, I take it you were held captive by them.

King: yes, it's why I wear the mask.

You: [can see him practically squirming in his seat] Really? And here I was thinking you wore it because it was a fetish.

King: well it is, but it's not the sole reason I wear it.

You: Sasaki owes me 800 Berry then.

King: you people were betting on me?

You: to be fair we bet on everything, there's not a lot to do on a boat in the middle of the ocean.

King: [sighs dramatically] That's true, but back to the topic at hand, I usually kill people for finding out what I am.

You: but not me, what makes me so special?

King: I don't know.

You: [ruminates for a moment] How did seeing me distressed make you feel?

King: uncomfortable, guilty, I dunno? I just didn't like it.

You: hmm I see, so you don't want to kill me, seeing me upset disturbs you, and you have anxiety if I am out of your sight.

King: believe whatever you want about my reasoning, it changes nothing.

You: ... One final question

King: [rolls his eyes, and crosses his arms] Fine, final question.

You: when you were on the call with Kaido, why did you make me look at you?

King: I didn't like that you were looking away.

You: I see.

King: ... Why did you look away?

You: I could see up your towel.

King: How much did you see?

You: some of your balls, and most of your shaft.

King: [feels arousal and embarrassment well up in him] Are you finished with your food?

You: I believe so.

King: come, I'll show you the bedroom.

You: [follows him and takes it in] Why are there no lights?

King: because it's time for bed [gets settled in bed when he notices you haven't moved] are you coming or are you sleeping on the floor?

You: that bed doesn't look like it'll fit both of us?

King: [rolls his eyes, grabs your arm, and pulls you into the bed up on his chest.] It's just fine, relax and go to sleep, I won't do anything.

You: [rests your weight on him and struggles to get comfortable]

King: [agitated because you're so close to him and he's experiencing new emotions he didn't know he had] Would you stop fidgetingñ

You: I'm trying to get comfortable and avoid kicking you in your dick!

King: [realizes how aroused he is by having you so close] tsk, do it quickly.

The next morning

King:[wakes up empty-handed, panics, and looks around until he sees you]

You: [asleep on his wing, face nuzzled into his down feathers, and has handfuls of his flight feathers.]

King: [mental cogs slide into place and he realizes he's in love with you] Oh fuck [sits up]

You:[awakens with a shriek when the surface below is yanked out from under you]

King: [sits up on the side of the bed with his hands covering his face]

You: [pushes your upper half up onto your palms as you twist to look over at him] What's going on?

King: [ looks over to see you half asleep, messy-haired, and your kimono had loosened in your sleep and was now only closed over your lap and under the obi belt, giving him an eyeful of your shoulders, the center of your chest, and from mid-thigh down]

You: it's like five in the morning, what's going on? [Reaches out and pulls on his feathers]

King: nothing, go back to sleep.

You: [doesn't need to be told twice, and plops back down and wiggles back into a comfortable position]

Bout a week later

King: [has so much pent-up tension he's basically a walking time bomb that everyone avoids]

Kaido: what have you been doing to him to make him so cranky?

You: I have absolutely no clue.

Kaido: well you better do something about it before he snaps and burns down my ship.

You: [ goes to King's room to find him tensed up and hunched over his desk] Kaido wants me to do something.

King: what now?

You: he wants me to fix whatever I've been doing to make you so cranky.

King: [scoffs] You haven't done anything.

You: [climbs into his lap, straddles his thighs, and cups his cheeks] And that might be what I'm doing wrong.

King: [relaxes at the softness in your voice, but pulls your hands away from his mask] This is my problem to deal with.

You: can I please help, I'll do anything.

King: anything?

You: [nods] anything

King: [wraps his hands around your hips, and pushes you down so you're seated on his lap]

You: [feels the heat rolling off the erection trapped in his pants] Oh my

King: [guides your body to gently rock against him] You said you'd do anything, and it's your fault it's like this. Don't you think you should take responsibility?

You: [huffs, but puts your back into grinding down on him] It's been days since I moved in, why didn't you tell me sooner?

King: I was already keeping you captive, [Grunts and starts to pant as he tilts his hips up to get more friction] It felt like I would've been pressuring you into something non-consensual.

You: I see [slows your movements to a halt]

King: [huffs and bucks his hips in frustration, pulling on your hips to get you to move again] Don't fucking stop, please.

You: [goes slow] Tell me, is this just lust?

King: [desperate] It can be anything you want it to be, please I just want you.

You: is this all you want? My body?

King: I'll take whatever you give me, but I'll always want more. I'm so fucking greedy for you. I want it all, I want the sashimi you don't like. I want fun evenings out, and restless nights in with you, only to be followed by quiet passionate mornings with you. I want you to look at only me, smile at only me, to fuck only me. I'll take whatever you give, just please give me this, [Presses his thumbs into the softness on your belly] even if it's only this once.

You: you're in love with me?

King: [slumps pathetically into his chair in defeat, and looks at the ceiling] Fuck ... Yes, I am. I am in love with you, and spending every night with you pressed against me has made me insatiable.

You: [giggles]

King: [flips you off]

List of Up-and-coming works || Master list || Twitter| Kofi || Patreon

[aquaquadrant]

Title: poor language

Warnings: Shipping (Ethubs, past Impdubs, kissing), session 4 spoilers, references to past seasons

~*~

“You know, Impulse came with me to kill the dragon.”

Bdubs says it casually as he slides off his horse. They’ve officially ended the session, but a few players are still hanging around, catching up on the session’s chaotic events before heading back to their respective worlds. So naturally, he had to stop by Etho’s place to gloat some more about his legendary accomplishment.

Etho, doing some last minute work on his chicken farm, doesn’t look over at Bdubs’s arrival. “Oh, yeah?”

(‘You know, our old thing- if things come down to it, we don’t betray each other.’)

“Yeah.” Bdubs ties his horse to one of the fence posts of Etho’s sheep pen. “Yes, he did, he- it was me, him, and Pearl first before those other- those sneak- snipers, freaking kill-stealers came in after, of course. But Impulse, he- you know, he couldn’t actually kill anything this session so he was just helpin’ out, shooting th- the uh… end crystals… moral support…”

Etho nods, his back still turned to Bdubs. “Good, good.”

“Yes…” Bdubs clears his throat. He puts as much admiration into his voice as humanly possible. “He did amazing.”

(‘Guess what? Impulse and I are in love.’)

“I’m sure he did,” Etho replies, his tone perfectly, infuriatingly neutral.

Irritation flickers through Bdubs. He pauses for a second, working his jaw. “Eeugh- you know it was my task, right?” he presses. “I ha- my hard task, most impossible task in’a world, kill the ender dragon in the life series…”

“Yeah, yeah, I know.” Finally, Etho climbs out of the chicken hole, dusting his hands off. “I- I kinda figured, ‘cause you know, you were pushing real hard for it…”

“Uh huh.” Scowling, Bdubs puts his hands on his hips. “Well- thanks a lot, then, for the help!”

(‘You could’ve went for me, and you chose not to.’)

Etho’s grinning behind his mask. “What, you expect me to fight a dragon just to help you out?” he asks teasingly.

(‘You clearly don’t know how Etho works.’)

Bdubs’s voice dies in his throat. He swallows, glancing alway. “No,” he lies. “No, I don’t…”

“Gotta play smart in these games, you know?” Etho puts his hands in his pockets, walking over. “Going to the end, uh, it just doesn’t make logical sense. Like, especially if it’s not even my task.”

(‘Etho, I feel like if this whole thing falls apart, alliances and stuff- it’ll still be you and me. We’ll still stick together.’)

“Right,” Bdubs murmurs sullenly. He folds his arms. “Right, right, right, of course.”

Etho comes to a stop in front of him. “So like, why else would I go?”

“Why else, right…” Bdubs echoes. His chest feels tight all of a sudden.

(‘He’s a survivor, that’s all he does.’)

Etho sighs. “What- what’re you doing, Bdubs? Why are you here?”

Bdubs’s heart jolts. “Uh- jeeze, can’t I just stop by to chat?” he demands, throwing his arms up. “Goodness sakes!”

Etho tilts his head. “Well yeah, sure, but you’re always here,” he points out. “Like, since day one you’ve just been finding reasons to come over here…”

(‘Where’s your boyfriend, Bdubs?’)

Bdubs feels his face heat up. “Oh, would you- maybe I come over to see Cleo, did- did you think of that?”

“Cleo’s not here right now,” Etho says evenly.

“Ah hah…” Bdubs rubs the back of his neck. “Well, that’s- yes, yes, okay, you’re right. So what?”

“So, if you wanna be around me so bad, why didn’t you team with me at the start?” Etho asks, taking a step forward. “Why’d you go join up with the Mounders?”

(‘The first thing I wanted to do was… well, yes, of course! Of course, team up with you, yes.’)

“Uh…” Bdubs takes a step back. “I mean, I didn’t- things happen, you know, organically, and- and I didn’t really… I had to build a- a house, upside-down house, other people started buildin’ around me while you- you ran off into the middle’a nowhere!”

(‘Etho has no loyalty to you. He’s just immediately teamed up with the next guy that’s come along.’)

“I think we both know why.” Etho starts walking forward again, forcing Bdubs to take equivalent steps back. “We’ve known each other a long time, Bdubs. We’ve got other worlds outside of these games, where we can spend time together without all the uh, the manipulation and deception and killing.”

Bdubs’s back suddenly hits a tree- he has nowhere else to go. His heartbeat pounds in his ears. “Uh, yeah? And…?”

Etho shrugs, looming over Bdubs. “But that’s just part of the game. So like, we can make all the promises we want, but uh, we both know that sometimes… things don’t end well. So maybe it’s better to keep our distance this time. That way it’ll hurt less, when it happens, and we won’t ruin what we have outside of the game.”

(‘I have a strong feeling we’re not gonna be friends at the end of this.’)

“So that’s it?” Bdubs challenges, indignation rising inside him. “Just- just avoid me, so you don’t feel bad if you turn ‘round and stab me in the back, huh?”

(‘You know I would never kill you, Bdubs.’)

Etho’s eyes flash. “You wanna know why I didn’t go to the end for you, Bdubs?” He leans in. “Cause I don’t have to prove anything to you.”

“Oh, is that a fact?” Bdubs breathes incredulously, staring back up at Etho. “You know what I think? I think you’re just scared. Not of the dragon, sure enough, but of what it’d mean t’go fight it for me.”

(‘I gave him the courage! He was scared.’)

Etho’s expression betrays nothing. “You think so, huh?”

“Yeah!” Bdubs puffs out his chest, a fierce grin spreading across his face. “Impulse didn’t care, as a matter of fact he was happy to do it!”

(‘Now, is this a happy marriage?’)

“Yeah?” Etho’s voice is dangerously soft, almost playful. “Then why aren’t you at his base right now?”

Bdubs deflates again. He should’ve known better than to try and make Etho feel threatened by his history with Impulse. They both know their connection goes deeper than that, than a single season of bound hearts and souls.

(‘Um… I want Etho.’)

“Okay, okay,” he says sheepishly, face burning, “you got me. In fact, I think Impulse- he was already planning on goin’ before I was, not even to help me out specifically.” He shakes his head. “Sheesh! I was just- is it too much to ask for a- a little attention?”

(‘Why can’t you be normal about Etho?’)

Etho hums noncommittally. He braces a forearm against the tree above Bdubs’s head, leaning in so their faces are mere inches apart. “You’ve got my attention now.”

Despite the tension, Bdubs huffs a laugh. “So much for- for keepin’ your distance, huh?” he jokes, reaching a hand up to tug Etho’s mask down.

This time, he can see Etho smile. “Well, we’re not technically playing the game right now. Session’s over.”

“Good point,” Bdubs chuckles, tilting his head up to meet Etho’s lips.

He knows this doesn’t come easy to Etho. He doesn’t have the same boldness as Bdubs when it comes to love, doesn’t throw his entire self into it with reckless abandon. He’s more cautious than that- always has been. He shelters his heart behind his aloof nature, his uninvested ‘easy-going’ attitude, and he wraps his words up in clever metaphors and the guise of amusement- lest anything he say be taken seriously as a weapon to wound him. So words aren’t always enough to convey what he really feels.

But they don’t need words for this.

Bdubs is well-versed in the dialect of Etho’s hands, the way they grip his waist to pull him closer. He’s memorized the divots that Etho’s scar has left in his lips, the way it feels against his own. He knows the slant of Etho’s jaw beneath his fingertips, the way his head tilts and shoulders bow to accommodate their difference in height. Every movement, every touch, every breath between them is part of their own unspoken language, communicating everything Etho’s left unsaid in his own unique way- and Bdubs remembers why he never should’ve doubted.

(‘He loves me. He cares. He does.’)

~*~

[diorsluv]

feather , part 21

“ send a pic ”

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_quinnhughes went out with jack and our luke replacement 🙏

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trevorzegras sleepy girl lmaooo

→ _quinnhughes fr this kid brought a whole body pillow in my car

→ yourusername they dragged me out of my bed at 5 in the morning 🙄🙄

rutgermcgroarty “luke replacement” is wild

→ _quinnhughes she agreed and he didn’t

→ yourusername more like they could drag me into their car but they couldn’t drag him

→ lhughes_06 i’m just a little hurt

username13 their relationship with her is the cutest thing ever

yourusername photo proof that jack enjoys my “green juice”

→ jackhughes yeah yeah whatever

→ markestapa HEY YOU NEVER MADE IT FOR US

→ mackie.samo YEAH WHERES OUR GREEN JUICE

username45 the sleeping mask is so relatable

username98 quinn’s pics are so cinematic

adamfantilli does she just sleep in everyone’s car

→ _quinnhughes yes

→ markestapa sprawls all the way out in the backseat

→ jackhughes sprawls out in shotgun too

→ trevorzegras she’s like a starfish

→ _alexturcotte she smacked me in the face once

→ yourusername I DID NOT.

→ mackie.samo she’s fallen asleep with her legs in my lap too many times 😒

→ lhughes_06 she’s fallen asleep with her head in my lap too many times 🙄

→ edwards.73 ok luke i see u

username34 jack LMAOOOO

username11 don’t do my girl like that she’s more than a luke replacement 🙄

→ yourusername 🗣️🗣️

luca.fantilli lil drizz needs to give us the fit check rn

→ _quinnhughes don’t obsess over her in my comments 🙄

→ yourusername shush quinny

→ yourusername and also it’s mark’s hoodie, target sweatpants and my sleeping mask 😈😈

→ luca.fantilli that’s not a fit check send me a pic

→ yourusername no

→ lhughes_06 MARK’S hoodie??

markestapa yo that’s my hoodie ask her where she got it from

→ jackhughes she said and i quote “your dresser”

→ yourusername oops

→ lhughes_06 YOUR hoodie??

dylanduke25 hughesy is no bueno

→ jackhughes i’m muy bien

→ _quinnhughes estoy más o menos

→ yourusername don’t use google translate that’s cheating _quinnhughes

→ lhughes_06 muy mal, no me gustan mis hermanos ni uno de mis mejores amigos porque ellos son pendejos y los odio

→ yourusername lukey babes we know you used google translate too 😭😭

→ jackhughes he and quinn are the same

yourusername

liked by dylanduke25, edwards.73, rutgermcgroarty, and 82,964 others

yourusername adam fell asleep questionably and luca straightening my hair should prob be a fire hazard but i finally spent sum time w my fav boys 🫶🫶

tagged: adamfantilli, luca.fantilli, rutgermcgroarty, mackie.samo, edwards.73, dylanduke25, markestapa

view all comments

luca.fantilli oh my god i’m a fav boy

→ yourusername only because you didn’t burn the house down with my straightener in your hands

trevorzegras where’s moose

→ yourusername gone

→ edwards.73 he ditched us 😒

→ missseraphina with me!

→ trevorzegras please god no

_quinnhughes i don’t understand how my brother can get what he’s wanted for years while also simultaneously fucking it all up

→ yourusername fr it’s crazy

→ jackhughes LMAOOO he showed me ur comment and started whining

rutgermcgroarty i really struggled carrying you down that street

→ yourusername are you saying what i think you’re saying 🤨

→ rutgermcgroarty WHAT NO

→ yourusername i think ur just weak! 🙄🙄

→ rutgermcgroarty I WAS RUNNING

username67 i love these little dumps when she hangs out w them

username9 the titanic recreation is amazing

username27 if you really think about it we could ship her with any of them

→ username12 mcdrysdale??? IT SOUNDS LIKE A MCDONALDS MEAL LMAOO

→ username78 drystilli

→ username35 drystapa ofc

→ username66 dredwards 💀

→ username90 dukedale (or drysduke??)

→ username4 dryskevich.. wth why does it sound like a normal last name

→ username51 dryshughes 🔛🔝

adamfantilli IT WAS REALLY COLD

→ yourusername so u disregarded the blankets on the other couch and stole everyone’s pillows

→ adamfantilli yes

→ yourusername i understand

→ luca.fantilli she has a soft spot for u she replaced all the pillows and gave u like three blankets 🙄

markestapa eddy the jack to my rose 😘😘

→ edwards.73 marky the rose to my jack 😘😘

→ yourusername stop flirting and get out of my comments 😐😐

→ markestapa no i don’t think so ‼️‼️

→ edwards.73 stop being a hater yourusername 🙄🙄

→ mackie.samo i feel left out i wanna join 😞😞

→ yourusername aww ofc mack 🤗🤗

→ dylanduke25 me too 😊😊

→ yourusername i mean i guesssss 🙂🙂

→ lhughes_06 can i join too 😇😇

→ yourusername no 🙅‍♀️🙅‍♀️

lhughes_06 damn wish i could’ve joined

→ dylanduke25 😐

→ markestapa 😑

→ edwards.73 😐

→ yourusername is that supposed to be the emoji blinking

→ mackie.samo 😐😑😐 yourusername

→ missseraphina yeah but you had more fun with me!

missseraphina 🙄

→ username63 uh… you do realize you’re PUBLICLY commenting right 💀

colecaufield is that girl harassing you

→ yourusername no it’s so funny lmfaoooo

→ jamie.drysdale bro she’s dming ME

→ yourusername u should see my dms 😭😭

next chapter notes ) yes seraphina is a certified delulu girl! i don’t wanna antagonize her terribly but she needs to cause enough drama so we’re going down this road and ik i haven’t been uploading recently but i’m too busy being an academic weapon 🙏

tags: @aliaology @hockeyboysarehot @absolutelyhugh3s @jackquinnswife @freds-slut @love4ldr @blueeyedbesson @43hughes @v1olentdelights @dancerbailey3 @random-human02 @ho3forfakeguys

[starlight-eclipsed]

Rockets Pointed Up at the Stars (Pt 2/2)

Part I

Despite what Phantom had implied, tracking down Batman wasn’t done in an instant.

Sure, they’d be back seconds after when they left. But with time travel in the mix, that could be hours or days apart. They’d already followed him back to his initial landing time, when Neanderthals were still around (and wow, was there a difference between factually knowing some people had been around since the dawn of humanity and physically seeing Vandal Savage in the flesh as a caveman). According to the trail left by Clockwork, the ghostly guardian of the timestream, they were getting close.

Apparently Bruce couldn’t make things easy and was also making jumps through time, which if left unchecked would cause the timeline collapse that Clockwork had recruited Phantom for. Specifically Phantom, as it turns out the thief that liked messing with him on weekends was also the Master of Space and the King of everything.

(Phantom insisted it was just a title, and he was only king of the Ghost Zone. It just so happened that the Ghost Zone was also known as the Infinite Realms, which contained every reality of every universe in existence.

And he’d won that title by defeating the previous ruler in single combat.

The High King had to scramble to catch Tim when his knees gave out at the realization that he had unknowingly gone toe to toe with someone who made Darkseid look like a toddler in a sandbox. What the fuck, Phantom.) 

As of now, they were waiting for the actual Blackbeard’s ship to dock to investigate the fabled Black Pirate he supposedly fought a week ago, whose description matched Bruce’s. Phantom had gone to grab them something to eat while they waited in a tavern, leaving Tim to save his seat. If someone told him even a week ago that this was where he’d be, Tim would’ve interrogated them for hours to try to figure out what it meant.

But no, he was just sitting at a table in the 18th century, a medallion from the Master of Time hung around his neck, waiting for his hero-turned-king-gone-rogue to return with food while they waited for Blackbeard the legendary pirate to show up. Jason would probably kill to be here in his place.

Tim was broken out of his thoughts when Phantom returned, two bowls of soup in hand and balancing an additional plate of tough-looking bread on his forearm.

They’d been forced to ditch their masks when Puritans tried to have them hanged a century ago, now dressing in more accurate clothing to better blend in. Phantom had apologized for discovering Tim’s real name, going as far as to reveal his own secret identity: a black haired blue-eyed teen named Danny.

“Heads up, it’s gonna be either too salty or bland as wood. I’m pretty sure the cook wanted to strangle me for asking too many questions about the ingredients.”

Tim snorted, accepting his bowl, “Is that why we don’t get spoons?”

“Nah, the owner doesn’t trust customers to return the utensils. Drink from the bowl, though you might want to soak your bread if you don’t wanna pull a muscle chewing it.”

“Noted.” Tim dared to take a sip, mulling over the taste. It wasn’t anywhere near Alfred’s level, but a step above his own adventures in the kitchen before getting a hard ban post-pancake incident. It tasted closer to brine than soup, but it went surprisingly well with the bread.

Phantom hummed in pleasure, proving yet again that his standards for food consisted of ‘isn’t actively resisting consumption’. Tim could hardly judge him for it, seeing as his own bar wasn't much higher.

“So, I’d say we have an hour or two until our man arrives. Want to go over the plan again?”

Tim shrugged. “Unless it’s changed from ‘confirm Bruce was already here before following the nearest skip in time’, I think we’re good.”

Phantom nodded, silence falling over them as they ate their way through dinner. Tim kept an ear out for trouble, but the tavern was quite peaceful this time in the evening. It was likely to change once the Queen Anne's Revenge finished docking, but for now he’d savor the ambiance.

“Wanna play twenty questions?”

He blinked, refocusing on Phantom sitting across from him. “Huh?”

“I just figured it might pass the time. Twenty questions, no lies, though you can reject them if you don’t want to answer.”

Tim considered it before nodding, “Sure. How old are you?”

Phantom grinned, “Seventeen, same as you. Why Robin?”

“I wanted to help Batman after the previous one died. Nobody else would intervene, so I stepped in. Why Phantom?”

“Okay, hear me out…it’s a pun.”

Tim paused, gesturing for him to elaborate.

“Before I was half-ghost, my last name was Fenton. So as a ghost, Danny Fenton became—”

“Danny Phantom,” Tim groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I can’t believe I ever thought you were subtle.”

“Hey, nobody expects the dead guy to moonlight as a living person. Sunlight? Whatever. Favorite hobbies?”

“Photography and skateboarding. Favorite power?”

“Ooh, that’s a hard one. I’d have to say flight. Nothing beats flying at night. Sexuality?”

Tim spluttered, making Phantom laugh as he blushed. “What the heck?!”

“Hey, you can always skip,” the asshole offered.

“No, it just caught me off guard. I’m bi. You?”

“Pan. And trans, while we’re at it. Ghosts can shapeshift, so I got a perfect transition at the low cost of death.”

Tim snorted, “Death is an ally.”

“Absolutely, it comes for us all,” he winked. “If you had a single power, what would it be?”

“Something so I wouldn’t need to sleep. I can manage otherwise. What determines the things you take?”

Phantom grinned, “Once a detective. But seriously, I just aim for things that look cool and won’t be missed too much. Some people will kick up a fuss over their trash if they think it’s worth stealing. Thoughts on soulmates?”

He stopped, some part of him catching on how serious the otherwise silly sounding question was phrased. As if the way he answered this could mean life or death. “You mean, a couple acting like they’re made for each other?”

“Ah, I wasn’t sure whether you had them in your universe. On my Earth, everyone is born with some kind of connection to at least one other person. Shared thoughts, a timer countdown to the time they first meet, stuff like that. Platonic or romantic, they were called soulmates.”

“So…someone you’re destined to meet and get along with? Is it magic based?”

A nod. “Humanity’s done research but they haven’t concluded on that yet. I asked an Ancient whose domain was centered around it, and they said it was determined by a soul’s resonance. I don’t know the specifics, but something about how all souls that resonate a certain way are born with soulmarks, so that they have an easier time finding each other. There are studies about how soulmates tend to understand each other easier, but other than that there’s no empirical proof that they’re different from any other relationship.”

Tim considered it. What it might’ve been like, to be told the second he met Dick that fateful night at the circus, ‘this boy will permanently alter the course of your life’. To have been able to approach Batman that first time, point to his wrist, and automatically be listened to instead of resorting to blackmail. How much easier it would have been to avoid the misunderstandings that defined their whole family.

Then again, it would be just his luck to have been born in that world and not have any soul connections to the Wayne family, making him work twice as hard for the same level of trust. Or to be born without resonance at all, and be left knowing that he was truly beyond reach. What would that do to him, in a society where people could point at the worst criminals and say ‘even that monster has someone they love’? To be soulmates with a genuinely terrible person?

“It sounds like a mixed blessing,” Tim said, meeting Danny’s gaze directly. “I would love to have someone like that by my side, and I’d be terrified of being defined by it.”

Danny leaned back, wearing a self-deprecating smile that Tim was quickly learning to recognize. “Yeah, that’s fair. Your turn.”

“What…what is your personal experience with soulmates? If I’m allowed to ask.”

He hissed out a breath through his teeth. “Yeah, that’s exactly what I thought you’d say.”

“I can ask something else?”

Danny waved a hand in dismissal. “I’ll answer, just lemme figure out how to put it.”

“I’ll return our dishes while you think through what you want to say.” Tim stood with his empty bowl, easily accepting the other bowl and plate as they were handed to him.

Walking back, Tim cataloged the people hanging around the tavern. A group of friends huddled around a dozen plates, decked out in gear that made it look like they just finished having some grand adventure. The bartender, a sly smile on her face as a drunken man clumsily flirted with his own wife. The cook instructing a boy to retrieve the dishes from Tim, sending a calculating glance in Danny’s direction before nodding at Tim and turning back to the fire.

Tim didn’t spend a lot of time in public anymore. His fame attracted far too much attention now that the press could consistently recognize him. But maybe once things settled back down again, he’d try civilian life again. There was something different about living alongside the people he worked to save, instead of far above looking down.

By the time he returned to his seat, Danny looked ready to talk.

“My soulmate rejected me when we were little.”

Tim blinked. “You can do that?”

“Ah…sorta? Depending on the connection, one side can choose to shut it down. Mine let us exchange messages. I was a dumb kid, and sent out a ton every day to try and get any kind of response that they were out there. They got sick of it and blocked me.” Danny laughed, but it wasn't very funny.

“I’m sorry. That sounds awful.”

“Don’t be. I annoy everyone—it was only a matter of time before I did something to chase them away.”

“Would you stop doing that?”

Danny blinked, tilting his head in silent question.

“Look, I get that you went through a lot of shit before coming to Gotham. But you keep acting like it’s a given that everyone you meet will be awful to you, and it sucks to hear you talk like that when I’m having fun with you. It wasn't your fault, so stop claiming credit for it. If I can’t justify losing Robin, you can’t justify being abandoned.”

“...alright then.” Danny huffed, folding his arms and pouting. “Neither of us can talk shit about ourselves.”

The twinkle in his eyes was enough for Tim to know he got through to him.

— - —

Tim leaned up against a fence in the Wild West, shifting uncomfortably in his dust coated clothes. Danny was perched beside him, smugly radiating a cool breeze that may very well have been the only thing keeping Tim upright in the summer sun.

“There’s too much sunlight here, it’s unnatural.”

“That’s just your Gothamite showing, city-boy.”

“Fuck off.”

Danny’s laughter had become a staple of the past few days spent traveling through history. In turn, Tim found himself happier than he’d been in ages, making sarcastic comments about anything that caught his eye in an attempt to get Danny to laugh more.

So far, he’d yet to fail to bring at least a smile to the other’s face.

Right now they were in the late 19th century, following rumors that Bruce had somehow crossed paths with Vandal Savage again. It was bordering on ridiculous, and a part of Tim wondered if this was why the legendary criminal stayed well away from Gotham waters. He was going to have to ask Bruce what was up with that after this whole mess was over.

“So,” Danny started, leaning closer to him. “Have any plans for when we’re back in modern day?”

Tim shrugged, “I see a lengthy report to Batman, hours spent explaining everything he missed while he was gone. I swear I’ll be up all week helping him catch up.”

A snort. “I meant about Robin. No offense, but you looked miserable in your new costume.”

He paused. He hadn’t quite processed the knowledge that bringing Bruce back wouldn’t also bring back his role as Robin. It was obvious whenever he actually thought about it, but to him Bruce coming home was still synonymous to going back to how things were before he was lost in time.

“I don’t know…Red Robin was just supposed to be temporary. It was one of Red Hood’s old aliases, not really mine.”

Danny turned to him. “Do you want a new one? If you decide now, we can lay the basis for some local legend to act as future inspiration for the new title.”

Tim elbowed him, “We aren’t messing with the timeline to establish lore for my new identity.”

“C’mon, it’ll be fun! I did it back in my original world, there’s ancient frescos of me winning chariot races and everything.”

“How are you and Clockwork still on speaking terms?”

“Oh, he totally finds it as funny as I do. He just has to pretend to be serious all the time so the Observants don’t crack down on him for shirking his duties.”

“You’re a bad influence on the embodiment of time,” Tim concluded with wide eyes.

A wide grin stretched across Danny’s face as he lied through his teeth. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“How did you even—he’s millennia older than you!”

“Counterparts, remember? It’s not a soul bond, but it’s easy to see ourselves in each other. Besides, time is relative; he's like a weird grandpa-uncle-cousin.”

Tim shook his head, but couldn’t quite force down the laughter in his lungs.

“Hey, I know for a fact I’m not the only bad influence here. No matter how much you claim that sleep is for the dead, I’m physical proof against that.”

“Whatever. You know when the next jump is?”

Danny tilted his head, as if listening for something only meant for his ears. “If Bats already came through here, there’s only two big timesinks left he could be in. Either sometime in the 20th century, or in a designated Vanishing Point.”

“Vanishing Point?”

“Yeah, it’s something of a collaboration between the Observants, Clockwork, and Ghost Writer. Each universe has an archive set right around its eventual heat death. It’s like an empty room in a video game with props the devs left in to keep the system running after inadvertently designing the whole code in reference to a lemon.”

“I…never mind. Why would Batman be there?”

“Oh, ‘cause he’s traveling through time without one of these,” Danny tapped Tim’s chest, right where his Time Medallion lay under his shirt. “They’re designed to safely disperse the energy gained each time we make a jump, among other things. Otherwise we’d just be building up enough to wipe the timeline from existence. Or something like that, I wasn’t really paying attention.”

Tim suddenly realized that this was what his former teammates meant when they complained about him executing strategies without explaining his thought process first. He still stood by his stance that it was more effective to explain things as they happened, but he was developing a new sense of empathy for them.

“Okay. Batman is a time-charged universe level bomb threat, and is getting funneled into the Backrooms so he blows up with everything else in existence. What can we do to stop that?”

Danny blinked. “Sorry, I thought it was obvious. I already carry a medallion with me wherever I go, so I was just gonna have you put the spare Clocky gave me on him to filter it out.”

Yep. This was karma for never giving people the full story behind any of his plans.

“I’m going to need you to go over everything we need to do when we get to this Vanishing Point. Twice.”

“Okie doke! So I’m gonna leave you with my spare medallion to help Bats while I throw down with Darkseid’s hyper-dimensional mind slave he sent after him to ensure his demise—”

Gift baskets. Tim owed so many people gift baskets for putting up with his bullshit.

— - —

When Tim found him, Danny was perched on the same apartment building they’d last met on.

His hood was down, freeing his flaming white hair to burn without heat in the night. His face was turned towards the sky, looking for all like he was somehow stargazing in spite of the thick smog that blanketed the city. It would’ve made for a stunning picture, if not for how soul crushingly lonely the scene felt.

Danny startled when Tim’s grappling hook latched onto the rooftop beside him. The halfa was quick to brighten upon seeing Tim down below, scooting over to make room for him as he reeled in the line and pulled himself up.

“Fancy meeting you here, Detective.”

Tim huffed, readjusting his utility belt. “The others won’t stop pestering me about how Batman was brought back when I shouldn’t have access to any time travel devices. It’s a miracle I was even able to get out of the Batcave without getting smothered.”

“You didn’t tell them about me?”

“You didn’t want them to know.”

Danny looked stunned. He physically shook himself out of it, a glowing green blush rising to his cheeks as he turned away. “Thanks.”

Tim absentmindedly nodded as he smoothly slipped a black marker from his belt while Danny was distracted. This had the potential to either go very smoothly or backfire completely, but it had to be done to sate his curiosity. Now that Bruce was home and he’d gotten the time to think over their conversations, pieces had started to align in his head. It was just a matter of taking the leap and confirming it for himself.

Reaching up to his own cheek, Tim wrote in practiced motions, focusing on the thought of sending it through to whoever was on the other side.

Danny jumped, hand slapping to his own cheek as he whipped his head around to stare at Tim in open shock. He shrugged sheepishly.

“Your description of soulmates was familiar. Between that and the cloak, I really should’ve put it together sooner.”

“You’re…not mad?”

Tim shifted, stashing the marker back in its rightful place. “I wish I knew sooner. I never meant to hurt you—Batman was getting on my case about the writing on my arms being recognizable in costume, and I never thought to wonder why it was happening in the first place.”

Danny shook his head, a wet chuckle escaping his lips. “You couldn’t have known. It would’ve freaked anyone out, getting messages from a different universe on their skin.”

“Neither did you. Know, I mean. Me blocking the connection was never on you.”

“Well…”

“I mean it.”

“Fine, fine. So…does that mean…?”

Tim carefully reached out his hands to grasp onto his soulmate’s, intertwining their fingers. It was remarkable how easily they fit together. “I don’t know if it’s romantic or not, but I’m willing to give it a try if you are.”

Danny collapsed forward into Tim’s arms. He could hardly make out the muffled affirmative, but the message was crystal clear. Leaning down to set his chin on the top of Danny’s head, he let himself savor this moment.

Tomorrow, he could beg Danny to experiment with the extent of their bond. They could talk about new ideas for his hero name, and Danny could get another shot at convincing him to go on a worldwide anti-multi-billionaire tour. The two of them had potentially forever to work out this newfound aspect of their relationship.

For the time being, Tim relaxed back against a chain link fence with his soulmate in his arms, the word ‘BOO’ scribbled in black marker across both their faces.

— - —

And that's a wrap! There's definitely room for more, but these were the all the scenes I wanted to cover ^-^

I think in this universe, Danny and Tim end up working as a slightly morally grey hero duo. They go global for a bit, Tim wanting to train under more people to better keep up with Danny (who follows along invisibly as backup). This eventually gets the attention of Ra's, and you can imagine how that goes XD

They're a bit overly attached; neither of them really have a healthy sense of boundaries, which causes a bit of conflict here and there. Tim is the one that insists on taking breaks to avoid becoming too codependent, which only really results in them deepening the soul bond to a ridiculous degree. Ironically it's during this that Tim discovers how he can send pressure marks through to Danny, who immediately converts it to morse code (oops).

Thanks for reading!

Tag list:

@skulld3mort-1fan @profoundsoulsong @daemonlogical @bobred18 @ashoutinthedarkness @hilariousseagoat @undead-essence @ekatkit @wolfjackle @awkwardmaiden @vehan-tikkun-olam-and-stuff

[nevadancitizen]

-> CH. 9: IF YOU CHOP FROM THE SHOULDER, THE AX WILL FIND YOUR HIP

synopsis: you, hank, and connor find yourselves in stratford tower. connor gets traumatized – twice. and you come to his rescue – again, twice.

word count: 2.9k

ships: Connor/Reader, Hank Anderson & Reader

notes: finally a whole chapter that's just one scene. be proud of me

HoFS taglist: @catladyhere , @foggy0trees0 , @princessofenkanomiya (if you'd like to be added to the taglist, just ask!)

HEAD OF FALSE SECURITY MASTERLIST

The elevator would be dead silent if it wasn’t for Connor flicking a quarter between his fingers. You watch out of the corner of your eye as it practically dances across his fingertips, the metal glinting in the harsh, fluorescent light. He flicks it to his other hand, catching it in between the first knuckles of his first two fingers and –

Hank snatches it from him. “You’re startin’ to piss me off with that coin, Connor.”

Connor looks at Hank’s hand, then at the silver elevator doors. “Sorry, Lieutenant.”

You’d laugh and give Connor another quarter to fidget with, but considering the conversation that occurred this morning? You’re not willing to extend that olive branch. You didn’t survive as a Soviet in America by being a goddamn doormat.

The elevator dings and an automated voice rings out. “79th floor.”

As soon as you step out, you clock the amount of CSI agents loitering around. You’re sort of used to them by now, but their coveralls and masks still unnerve you a bit. 

“Hey, Hank,” Chris says. “Officer.”

“Shit, what’s goin’ on here?” Hank looks around. “There was a party and nobody told me about it?”

“Yeah. It’s all over the news, so everybody’s butting their nose in.” Chris sighs and nods towards the door at the end of the hall. “Even the FBI wants a piece of the action.”

“Ah, Christ, now we got the Feds on our back,” Hank groans. “I knew this was gonna be a shitty day.”

“If I wanted to be looked at and talked to like I don’t know English, I would’ve gone back to some Citizenship and Immigration Services building,” you mumble. Hank lets out a laugh mixed with grumbles of agreement.

He turns to Chris. “So what do we got?”

“A group of four androids.” Chris starts walking, and you and Hank follow beside him. You can hear Connor’s footsteps behind you, but you don’t turn to look. “They knew the building, and they were well organized. I’m still trying to figure out how they got this far without being noticed.”

“You check the roof?” Hank asks. 

“Not yet,” Chris says. “They attacked two guards in the hallway. They probably thought the androids were coming to do maintenance. They got taken down before they could react.”

You stop by the desk and look over it. There isn’t anything out of place. Your eyebrows furrow and you continue following Chris into the broadcast room. 

“One of the station employees managed to get away.” Chris glances back at you and Hank. “He’s in shock. Not sure when we’ll be able to talk to him.”

You look over at the wall, which has a paused video of an android. His skin is peeled back, and there’s no defining features besides his mismatched eyes.

“Oh, Officer, Lieutenant,” Chris says. “This is Special Agent Perkins from the FBI. Perkins, Lieutenant Anderson is in charge of investigating for Detroit Police. He’s been paired with a cybersecurity officer to provide a unique perspective on android-related cases.” He gestures at you.

Perkins doesn’t even look at you. Instead, he looks over at Connor. “What’s that?” (He says it like Connor is some breed of ugly dog he’s never seen before instead of something resembling a man.)

“My name is Connor,” Connor says. “I’m the android sent by CyberLife.”

“Androids investigating androids, huh?” Perkins’ eyes find Hank. “You sure you want an android hanging around? After everything that happened?”

“If you don’t mind,” you cut in, “we’ll be having a look around.”

“And a Bolshevik?” Perkins looks you up and down. “Watch your step, comrade. You or your friends fuck up my crime scene, and I’m gunning for your ass.”

Perkins walks away, his hands folded behind his back in faux-politeness.

Once he’s out of earshot, Hank nudges your arm. “What a fuckin’ prick!”

You smile and nudge him back. “I told you those bastards would give me trouble.”

“Have you experienced things like this before, Officer?” Connor asks.

Your lips draw into a discontented sort of-frown. Of course Connor knows your answer. Why the hell would he be asking? You’ve even told him about things like this before, not to mention Gavin’s stellar behavior and comments Connor’s seen pointed towards you. 

“Yeah.” You turn away and opt to look around the crime scene (not that you would be of any use, anyway). A set of footsteps follow – you can tell that it’s Hank by the heaviness.

You come to a stop by the entrance to the roof and lean against the bullet hole-ridden wall, facing the room. Hank crosses his arms and jabs a thumb over his shoulder at Connor.

“What the fuck was that?” He asks. 

“With… him?” You say. You don’t want to call Connor’s attention by saying his name. “He… he was just being an asshole this morning. I tried to talk to him about something serious, but he just deflected it.”

“About what?”

“I…” You swallow, then whisper: “I think he’s deviating.”

“Well…” Hank laughs. “You have a tendency to project emotions onto inanimate objects.”

“Yeah. I know.” You look down and scratch your cheek. “Just… you know how I am. And…”

You look across the room and see Connor talking to an officer. You hold up a hand to keep Hank quiet, then tap just below your ear and nod towards Connor. Hank gets the hint and eavesdrops with you.

“I was on that terrace,” the officer says. “That android that took the little girl hostage? I was shot. You saved me.”

You exchange a glance with Hank, then look back to Connor. He tilts his head to the side, like he’s searching his memory banks.

“I remember you,” Connor eventually says. 

“I could’ve died on that terrace. But you saved my life.” The officer looks away, then back to Connor. “I never thought I’d say this to an android, but… thank you.”

He looks a bit awkward, then nods and walks away. Connor turns and catches your eye, like he knew you were watching. Your eyes fall to the floor.

“Блять,” you mumble. “He saw me. Help me look busy.”

Hank nods to the side. “Let’s go watch the recording. Not like I haven’t seen it a million times already.”

You follow him to the large screen that takes up an entire wall. You extend your left hand towards the console and the wires from your glove slither out and connect with a port. The screen flickers, then plays the end of the video. 

“We ask that you recognize our dignity, our hopes, and our rights. Together, we can live in peace and build a better future, for humans and androids. This message is the hope of a people. You gave us life. And now the time has come for you to give us freedom.”

“Think that’s rA9?” Hank asks from your left.

“Deviants say that rA9 will set them free,” Connor says from your right. You look at him, but he doesn’t look at you. He’s firmly trained on the screen. “This android seems to have that objective.”

You disconnect from the console and return your eyes to the screen. The android has a slight lisp and mismatched eyes. You can’t see any other identifying features. 

Hank looks over at Connor. “D’you see something?”

“I identified its model and serial number,” Connor says. 

But there’s something else there – you know it. It’s telling in the way Connor’s jaw is set, the way he can’t seem to look away from the screen. “Anything else?” 

Connor continues looking forward, then faces you. He does a double-take, like he’s surprised you asked him. 

“No!” He glances at you out of the corner of his eye. “Nothing.”

You look over at Hank with an expression that reads something along the lines of I fucking told you so! You take a step back, and Hank does the same. Connor keeps looking up at the screen.

Then, he quickly turns and walks away into the kitchen. 

“Hank,” you say quietly. 

“I know,” he says. 

You turn to face him and continue speaking softly. “He’s showing signs of deviancy. He has been, for a while now.”

“You think he’s gonna turn?” Hank asks. “Or has he already?”

You glance at the door to the kitchen. You can hear Connor talking to someone inside, but can’t make out anything he’s saying. “I think he’s on the decline. Not quite there yet. Just needs a push.”

“You planning on giving him that push?” Hank asks.

“No.” You turn back to him. “He needs to take that leap on his own.”

You hear a set of footsteps behind you. You look over your shoulder and see one of the station androids walking out of the kitchen. Nothing out of the ordinary. 

But… you swear you can hear someone saying your name. Their voice sounds choked, like they’re struggling just to talk. And when you hear them calling out for Hank, you immediately know something’s wrong. 

You make your way over to the kitchen, moving with a sense of urgency, but not enough to cause alarm. What you see makes your soul land in your heels. 

Connor’s on the floor, struggling and crawling forward. His hands are shaking as he drags himself along. 

You immediately fall to your knees beside him, grabbing his shoulders and pulling at him frantically. “Connor? Connor, what’s happening?”

He chokes out a string of unintelligible words and points to the side. You follow his finger and see a biocomponent. You scramble to pick it up and bring it back to Connor. 

You push Connor onto his back and pull his shirt open, exposing his chest. A faint flicker in your mind tells you, Ou, look at you! Getting all up in that – but you cut it off because now is seriously not the time. 

With a fluid motion, you push and twist the biocomponent back into the gaping hole in the middle of his chest. You really hope you did it right.

Connor’s eyes are still unfocused, staring blankly up at the ceiling. His face twitches, and he comes back to the real world. 

You help him up, Thirium staining your hand and your front as he falls into you. He stumbles away, then catches his footing and darts out of the room.

You follow and watch him bolt down another corridor and shout, “It’s a deviant! Stop it!”

There’s three quick shots, then the sound of a body falling to the ground. 

You turn the corner just in time to see Connor handing a gun back to an FBI agent, holding the barrel so that the agent can grab it by the grip. The agent takes it back, a look of bewilderment on his face. 

When you see Hank trying to get to his feet, you move over and help him. You keep your hands on his shoulders and look him over. “Are you okay? Have you been shot?”

“I’m fine, I’m fine.” He grabs your wrists and pulls your hands away, looking over your shoulder. “Nice shot, Connor.”

You step away from Hank and turn to face Connor. His lips are drawn into a thin line, and he almost looks frustrated. “I wanted it alive.”

“You saved… human lives,” Hank says. He heaves a breath. “You saved my life.”

Connor looks over at him, then walks back into the broadcasting room, buttoning up his shirt as he goes. 

You look down at your hands. They’re stained with Thirium – more often than you’d like these days. You wipe them down your front, which is already stained with it anyway.

You turn and start to follow Connor. “I think he’s going to check the rooftop. I’d like to be with him when he does.”

Hank makes a sound of agreement and trails after you. You’re like two ducklings following after an android mother duck. Once you reach the door to the rooftop, Connor holds it open for you as he passes through, then you hold it open for Hank in turn. 

Hank walks in front of you both, surveying the scene. “They made their way up through the whole building, past all the guards, and jumped off the roof with parachutes. Pretty fuckin’ impressive, I’d say.”

Connor makes his way over to a splatter of blue blood and swipes two fingers through it. You can’t even bring yourself to make a sound of disgust as he samples it.

You have conflicting feelings about Connor. Saving him was an action made in a moment of weakness and panic. You know he’d just come back if he died – or, as he’d put it, shut down. But it doesn’t change that he told you that he’s not alive. That he’s not afraid of anything. That he stepped up to the muzzle of Hank’s gun and practically begged him to prove him wrong and shoot him.

You tear your eyes away from Connor and move over to Hank. He’s looking down at an open duffel bag. 

“How’d they manage to smuggle in a big bag like that?” Hank asks. 

You draw your jacket tighter around yourself. “I’d wager someone brought it in for them.”

“You’re most likely correct,” Connor says. You jump a little at the unexpectedness of his voice, but manage to keep yourself from saying anything aloud. 

“Huh, that’s strange.” Hank gestures down at the duffel. “They planned a perfect operation but got the number of parachutes wrong.”

Connor kneels and pulls the duffel open further. “Unless one of the deviants was left behind.”

He stands and walks off. You watch him, then return your eyes to the snow-covered rooftop. You huff, and your breath mists in the cold. 

“I’m going to have a look around,” you say. Hank nods, and you walk away.

You half-assedly wander around the rooftop, making sure not to get too close to the edge. You look at the air conditioners and the frost that’s built up on them. They’re pumping out cold air in an effort to keep the inside of the building warm. 

Suddenly, a shot rings out. Someone shouts “Take cover!” You dive behind an air conditioner and look to your right. Hank and Connor are hiding behind another one a few feet away.

“You have to stop them!” Connor pleads. “If they destroy it, we won’t learn anything!”

“We can’t save it, it’s too late,” Hank says. “We’ll just get ourselves killed!”

Connor looks over at you, then peeks around the corner of the air conditioner. Before you can command him to stop, he rushes out from behind cover. He vaults over a container and charges the deviant head-on. 

As soon as Connor has him pinned to the wall, the deviant presses the pistol’s muzzle to the soft underside of his chin and fires. Connor stumbles back, just watching as the deviant slumps to the ground. 

Hank comes out of cover first and runs over to Connor. You’re hot on his heels, fighting the proud side of you that shouts at you to stay away from him.

“Connor! Connor, are you alright?” He stands in front of Connor, trying to stay in his line of sight. “Connor?”

“Okay,” Connor mumbles, his voice shaky and quiet.

You move next to Hank, grabbing onto one of Connor’s shoulders. His LED is stuck on red, circling in on itself. His eyes are completely unfocused and he’s stuck in his mind. 

“Connor?” You shake him. “Connor, come back to us. Are you hurt? Did he shoot you?”

“I’m okay,” Connor mutters, his tone the same – scared, soft. 

“Jesus, you scared the shit outta me.” Hank draws away, and it seems all his emotions come crashing down at once. “For fuck’s sake, I told you not to move! Why don’t you ever do what I say?”

“I was connected to its memory.” Connor comes back to the real world, if only a little bit. “When it fired… I felt it die. Like I was dying.”

His eyes turn to yours. “I was scared.”

“Нет, нет.” You draw Connor into a hug on instinct. Your hand finds the back of his neck, guiding him to rest his forehead on your shoulder. “Всё в порядке. Ты здесь. Ты жив.”

His hands wrap around your midsection, unsure and scared. His hands come to rest on the small of your back. They’re shaking.

Fuck, he doesn’t deserve to go through this. Connor’s traumatized now, for god’s sake. He could keep a therapist in business until they retire. 

After a few seconds, you pull back, keeping your hands on Connor’s shoulders. “Are you okay now?”

He draws back and grabs your wrists. He nods, if a little jerkily. “Yes. Thank you.”

As soon as Connor lets go, the noble and proud creature in your belly howls in displeasure, cursing you for being so weak. But it’s not like you couldn’t comfort him! That would be cruel and just reinforce the stereotypes placed upon you – the ones that say you’re grim and stoic and an unfeeling person in general. 

“I saw something in its memory,” Connor says. “A word, painted on a piece of rusty metal… ‘Jericho’.”

You nod. “We should get back to the station. I’d like to have a copy of that for my records.”

When you start to walk, Connor follows.

[lexosaurus]

Everything Was White: Part 22

[see all chapters]

read on: [ao3] [ffn] (please read tags)

Summary: After being accidentally revealed to the public and taken away by the government, Danny deals with the aftermath of his time with the GIW.

****

The holidays were strange, in a word.

Danny had never been a fan of Christmas, with his parents always too caught up in their work to get into the holiday spirit. And, sure, maybe some of that resentment over his parents doing the bare minimum or—on a few occasions—outright forgetting to celebrate Christmas had built up over the years. 

Sue him.

But it was weird this year. As Christmas approached, Jack came home one day with a few bags full of decorations. He then spent the rest of the afternoon putting lights outside.

The Fenton house had never had holiday lights before. But Danny’s fear of his father finding a way to set the house on fire overrode his excitement about the lights.

Before he knew it, nutcrackers and green wreaths decorated the house. The next day, Jack came home with a tree, and the whole family was ordered to decorate it with him. 

While they did have a tree most years, the last time they hung up ornaments as a family was…

Well, Danny didn’t remember when that was.

“Jazz, stop putting all the ornaments on the bottom branches,” Danny whined, batting her hand away as she attempted to put yet another ornament within the limited scope of Danny’s current reach. “That’s my territory.”

“Then hurry up, slowpoke!” she teased, nonetheless moving to a higher branch.

“So rude. Can’t believe you’re bullying me.”

“I moved it!”

“Mads?” Jack said, handing an ornament over to her.

Maddie had been quiet all evening. She wasn’t in her work jumpsuit either, and Danny wondered if she had spent the day at yet another meeting with their lawyer.

Curiosity was a sinister beast, and part of him wanted to ask his mom what else the lawyer could have possibly said. But considering the last conversation surrounding his zero protections against the Guys in White stalking him everywhere he went, maybe this wasn’t the time.

Jazz fiddled with the Christmas music, skipping over a particularly terrible cover of Feliz Navidad, before she plucked another ornament out of its box.

How depressing was it that Danny was sixteen years old and half of the ornaments they were hanging up were brand new?

“You’re all gonna love your gifts this year!” Jazz said brightly. “No spoilers, but I tried really hard!”

Maddie gave a weak smile. “I’m sure whatever you give will be great, honey.”

“Mine are gonna be bad. Sorry, online shopping only,” Danny said. “Also, I’m broke.”

That, and he’d forgotten that Christmas was—well—a thing.

Express shipping was truly a gift to humanity.

“It’s the thought that counts, Danno!” Jack said, putting that happy-dad mask back on his face. “That’s what I’ve always said!”

He had not always said that. His parents were typically too busy catching ghosts during the coldest months of the year to bother with the holiday season.

Which was fine. It was all just fine. Every family had different traditions, and Sam’s family didn’t even celebrate Christmas at all. But pretending this was suddenly a foundational holiday to the Fenton Family Tradition was ridiculous.

“No rest for the weary, son!” Jack said, placing another ornament in Danny’s lap.

“Sure, Dad.” Danny pushed himself back over to the lopsided tree. 

Jack turned to Maddie. “Your crazy sister is coming up, right?” 

“She’s not crazy, but yes.”

Jazz paused, her ornament dangling in the air. “Aunt Alicia’s coming?” 

“Yes.” Maddie’s gaze flickered to Danny for the briefest moment before settling back on Jazz. “We felt bad we were too busy to get together for Thanksgiving, so we extended the offer for Christmas.”

Danny could translate that well enough: We were too afraid of our mentally unstable son to travel for Thanksgiving.

Dancing around the truth felt almost worse than his parents just openly admitting what a disappointment he was.

No, that was exactly the sort of negative thinking that would rouse suspicion. Not that he had anything to hide, of course. He was a model outpatient kid now.

They continued hanging up the holiday ornaments to the chorus of terrible Christmas tunes that had Jack and Jazz singing along and Danny trying to keep his ears from bleeding. Perfect pitch—or any kind of pitch, for that matter—clearly didn’t come in the Fenton genetic coding.

When they finished, Jack attached a green star on top and plugged the lights into the wall, turning their ornament-bloated tree into an LSD-induced fever dream.

But Danny still couldn’t get it out of his head that Alicia was coming here. Why wouldn’t they go down to Spittoon like they always did?

Maybe they were worried about his wheelchair? Which would have been even more of a reason to give Danny his powers back. Or, maybe because Alicia’s community was anti-ghost?

…yeah. Danny thought back to that old community of closed-off people. Them being anti-halfa was probably the most likely scenario.

His suspicions were more or less confirmed that evening as he floated invisibly in the hall, too lazy to use his wheelchair to go to the bathroom. Jazz, the only perceptive one in the house, was already asleep, so there was no fear of getting caught. The light was still on in his parents’ room, however. Their sleep schedules were almost as bad as Danny’s.

Danny pressed a hand to the bathroom door, about to slip through the wood, when he heard the unmistakable mutter of, “...Danny…” from their room.

His parents were talking about him. Again. If he were smart, he would have ignored it. He already knew what they truly thought about him. There was no need to ruin his night.

But, in fact, he was not smart. So he drifted closer till he was pressing an ear to the door and fighting the impulse to stick his head inside.

“...a good idea?” Jack was asking.

“She’s my sister, hon,” Maddie responded. “Besides, you know what the therapist said about isolating Danny.”

There was a sharp huff from Jack. “I know, Mads. I know she’s been concerned about those patterns reemerging, but it’s one thing to encourage Danny to connect with his classmates and another to invite Alicia into our house.”

“Whatever issues you two have—”

“This isn’t about me!” Jack hissed, clearly struggling to keep his voice down. “I’ve put up with all sorts of talk from her over the years. You’ve seen it! It’s not about me, it’s about our son.”

“She said she was willing to try.”

“Trying isn’t good enough, Mads. I know you two don’t see each other often, and I don’t want to keep you from her, but she can’t step one foot in this home if she’s going to even think about disrespecting Danny.”

There was a brief silence as Jack’s words hung in the air. Then, Danny heard the duvet on the bed shift, a heavy sigh accompanying it. 

“I know.” Maddie’s voice was so quiet, Danny almost didn’t pick it up. “I’ll call her tomorrow, okay?”

“Thank you.”

“I love you, Jack.”

“I love you too.”

The light switched off, and their conversation was finished.

Danny stayed floating in the hallway for some time. So…Alicia hated him now. She thought he was a freak. She thought he was better off back with the Guys in White. And now she was coming here, staying overnight at their house. Perfect. Wonderful. Awesome.

Danny hoped he had enough painkillers to last through her stay.

****

Jazz was going to school early. She needed to do the winter orientation and get acclimated to the city. She was also doing some volunteer tutoring for the kids in the area and wanted to complete the training before the semester started.

Danny had known this. He was fine with it, Jazz, quit asking for his opinion about it.

It was like she thought he was a dandelion about to drift off with the slightest breeze. But he wasn’t.

He wasn’t. 

He wasn’t some child who couldn’t exist without his "big sis"  holding his hand. He was sixteen and had people like his therapists and his best friends to rely on. Of course, he hadn’t talked to his friends about Jazz leaving yet. And although his therapist had brought up the topic a few times now, they hadn’t really talked about it too deeply.

But that was only because there really wasn’t anything to say. Jazz was leaving, and that was that.

“You’re sure?” Jazz asked. “There’s really nothing?”

Nothing? Huh?

Right, there was nothing he wanted from her. Nothing he wanted to do with her. No bucket-list items. He’d already demanded too much from her. She even deferred an entire semester of her dream college because of him. 

So why was she asking if there was anything he wanted to do with her before the holidays were over? Why was she wasting her time?

“I’m sure. Not like I can really get around easily, anyway.” Danny slumped back on the couch.

“Danny, I’m sure we can find some wheelchair-friendly things—”

“That—that’s not what I meant.” Despite his best efforts, he felt his face flush. Or, maybe it was partially what he meant. Who knew anymore, with the way his TBI liked to scramble all his thoughts? “I meant that—with the paparazzi…”

“Okay, then we can dress incognito!” Jazz said. “Come on, not even a trip to the movies? It would be fun!”

“You hate horror movies,” Danny pointed out.

“Did you forget about, oh, I don’t know, every single other genre of film out there? Would it kill you to switch it up for an hour?”

“Yes. It absolutely would.”

Jazz rolled her eyes. “Come on, Danny. For me?”

And there were those big eyes and clasped hands that had defeated Danny so many times before. Really, how was he supposed to say no to his sister when she pulled her trump card like this? 

So unfair.

“Fine! Fine, you can dress me up in a stupid wig or whatever and we can go see one of your dumb movies before you leave. But if we get caught…”

“We won’t!” Jazz grabbed his arm, apparently too excited to contain herself.

She almost looked like the old Jazz, the Jazz that didn’t have to worry about her little brother staying out of the hospital.

Maybe focusing on other things would be good for her. Maybe it was time for her to get away. Maybe she needed this sense of normalcy again.

Maybe it was time to let her go.

Before Danny could ponder that thought any longer, the door swung open with enough force to nearly plow through the wall. 

“Aunt Alicia!” Jazz scrambled from the couch. “Welcome!”

“Jazz!” Alicia stepped through the interior, her suitcase in hand. A green coat had been thrown over her overalls and plaid T-shirt, and she shed it as soon as she stepped through the threshold.  

Jazz hugged her. “Good to see you! You haven’t changed a bit!”

It was true. No matter how old Alicia got, her red mullet and bulldog-like features stuck around.

“I can’t say the same about you!” Alicia pulled Jazz away, surveying her up and down with a grin. “Look at you, your hair’s so long now. And have you grown?”

“Not since I was like thirteen!” 

Maddie peeked over their shoulders. “I can take your suitcase to the guest room.”

“Nonsense!” Alicia barked. “It hasn’t been that long since I’ve been here. I remember where it is just fine!”

“Don’t worry, Alicia,” Jack said, getting up from the couch. “Go catch up with the kids! I’ll bring your stuff upstairs.”

As usual, Alicia hesitated at Jack’s offer, looking him over as if he were three feet tall and made of fool’s gold.

“Thank you, Jack!” Maddie snatched the suitcase and coat from her sister’s arms and passed them off to Jack, who quickly disappeared upstairs. She ushered Alicia into the living room. “Come, sit. It was a long flight. Would you like anything to drink? We have both red and white wine somewhere in the cabinets—oh, the white hasn’t been chilled.”

Danny sat rigid on the couch, the cushions suddenly feeling hard underneath him. His brain registered a strange pressure on his thighs, and he glanced down to see his hands gripping his legs. He let go, allowing his arms to fall awkwardly to his sides, and when he looked back up, he saw how Alicia was slowly lowering herself onto an armchair, leering at him like he was some sort of alien at Area 51.

That wasn’t even a far-off comparison to make. He was the alien. Only, instead of being located in the desert, Area 51 was his damn living room.

“What would you like, Alicia?” Maddie called from the kitchen.

Alicia blinked. “Huh? Oh, whatever light beer you have is fine.”

“I’ll see what we have.”

Jazz hopped back on the couch next to Danny, stretching out like she did after returning home from a run. “How was the flight?”

“Long. It’s cold up here,” Alicia said, frowning at the window.

“It’s been a mild winter so far,” Jazz said.

“Mild to you, maybe. I haven’t been outside of Arkansas in…well, since the last time I was here, actually. When was that, six years ago?” 

“Eight,” Danny said, his memory—usually so full of holes—surprising even himself. He stared at the ground, not wanting to see Alicia’s reaction to his alien voice. “I was eight. My dad tried to play Santa and—and fell on the tree.”

Silence lapsed in the room, and Danny risked glancing up to see Alicia’s inquisitive face once again turned on him, nodding slowly. “Right, I remember that.”

“Oh god, I’d forgotten!” Jazz laughed as if the air weren’t awkward enough to cut with a chainsaw. “Mom was so pissed!”

“Till I got the whiskey in her.” Alicia winked.

Winked. 

Danny, thankfully, didn’t drop his jaw.

It…was okay? He wasn’t a disgusting little cockroach then, infesting this human home with his gross ecto-blood?

It was naive to hope that someone accepted him for what he was. He knew that. He’d been let down too many times in the past. But still, he couldn’t help it, the desperation leaking into him, lifting him up, straightening his spine. He couldn’t stop that pang of longing from stabbing through him. 

And of course, it was stupid, because as soon as Danny’s wide eyes made contact with Alicia’s, a frown appeared back on her face.

Though, only momentarily, as it was broken by Maddie stepping into the living room a second later with a beer can in one hand and a glass of red wine in the other. “This alright?”

“Looks fine to me!” Alicia said.

“You’re all set!” Jack called, bounding down the stairs. “Oh, you ladies having drinks?”

“Of course we are!” Alicia said. “Jazz, you’re old enough, aren’t you?”

“I’m eighteen,” Jazz said.

“Plenty old enough! Maddie, get her a glass of something too.”

Maddie pursed her lips at Jazz.

“I’m going to college soon anyway, Mom,” Jazz pointed out.

Maddie sighed. “Fine, one glass.”

Jazz shot a smug smile at Danny, who was only a tiny bit jealous. Not that he could drink with all the medication he was on, anyway. But a glass of something to diffuse whatever tension he was causing through the horrible crime of existing sounded great.

Well, worst-case scenario, he always had the bottle of pills in his backpack. And it wasn’t like he hadn’t already taken something before this. 

For the pain, of course. 

“You excited for Harvard?” Alicia asked, snapping Danny from his rumination. 

“So excited!” Jazz responded.

“Smart girl! I always knew you’d get there. I remember Maddie calling me all worried when you were applying, saying stuff about how hard it was to get into, and I told her not to worry one bit! I said that girl’s something special, she is. Smartest of the bunch! I said she’d show up every other applicant in the pool!”

“That she did! My Jazzypants kicked some major butt out there! We’re very proud of her,” Jack said.

Alicia only looked a little bitter that Jack had spoken to her before turning her attention back to her favorite niece. “Have you thought at all about what you want to study?”

“Psychology,” Jazz replied easily. “I got a five in AP Psych in high school.”

“That’s the top score,” Maddie explained.

Alicia beamed. “See, Maddie? They’re lucky to have such a bright young woman in their program!”

They were. They really were.

With Jazz now only weeks away from leaving, these conversations had become more and more commonplace with people they met. And Danny was happy for Jazz, and he was a little glad that the spotlight wasn’t on him all the time, but with each new mention of Jazz leaving came a new realization that Jazz was leaving.

“They are definitely,” Maddie said. Glancing at Danny, she added, “We’re very proud of both of our kids. They’ve both worked so hard this year.”

Oh, no.

Now Alicia’s attention was fully back on him. Back on his oversized sweatshirt, his plain sweatpants, his mussed-up hair that he couldn’t remember if he’d combed that morning. He felt just like when Plasmius assessed him for the first time. Tiny, like an ant being crushed under the overwhelming force of a large boot.

Just from the way her eyes squinted as she surveyed him up and down, Danny could tell that she didn’t know if she wanted to give him a fake positive answer or spit in his face. And with every microsecond she continued her internal assessment, he felt the weight of her metaphorical boot crushing him further and further into the ground.

“Yup, Danno’s been getting those grades up!” Jack carried on, his commentary doing little to settle the atmosphere. “He’s got a real knack for science, too!”

Hardly.

And, judging by Alicia’s narrowing eyes, she was certainly thinking of a different kind of science anyway. The kind that involved strapping ghosts to lab tables and cutting them open. 

Still, he tried his best to go with it. “Well, when you live with my parents, it’s hard not to pick up a thing or two along the—um, way…”

Oh no. He had definitely made it worse.

Okay, time to flip the script back onto the favorite kid. “But Jazz is really better at all that stuff. She was in AP Bio last year and aced it too.”

“I didn’t ace it, Danny.”

“A ninety-two is still acing it in my book.”

Jazz’s face was red, though Danny could see the glowing pride that she was currently trying to bury. “Well, college is going to be harder than a high school class, you know!”

“And—and Danny? You’re in school too?” Alicia spoke up.

Suddenly, Danny felt small all over again. “Oh—uh, yeah. I am.”

Only for half of the day, and not in any general education classroom. But saying that out loud would have been too embarrassing. It would have just proved to Alicia that the media was right and he wasn’t able to function like a normal teenager doing normal teenage things, like going to class.

“Danny’s been working very hard to catch up,” Maddie said, offering her most loving and supportive smile, which Danny was sure had to be an act. “Especially after everything, he’s really putting such great effort into his classes.”

“So…Danny…” Alicia tried, shifting her beer can from one hand to the other. She pursed her lips, and Danny wondered what words she could possibly be searching for before she opened her mouth and said, “What do you plan on doing after high school?”

It was such a banal question that Danny almost thought that Alicia was being genuine. But then her voice echoed in his head just once more, and Danny could hear the underlying tones of curiosity and…scorn? 

Or was he reading too far into her?

“Um…” Danny shifted his gaze between Jazz and his parents. “Well…I’d like to—to work for NASA. I think.”

Alicia sucked her teeth. “NASA, huh? That’s certainly a reach. Doing what, exactly?”

Danny shrugged. He’d wanted to be an astronaut before all this. But now that he had more health conditions than he probably knew? 

Yeah. Fat chance.

“I don’t know. I just like space. I know it’ll be difficult, but…”

“Are you kidding, son? All the space agencies will be bidding on having a kid like you work for them.” Jack raised his glass, grinning. “You know how much money it’ll save them to have an astronaut who doesn’t need a space suit?”

Danny winced at Jack’s brazen reference to his ghost half, but thankfully Alicia had done little more than quirk a brow. 

“And Danny’s really handy at working our dad’s gadgets, too,” Jazz said. “I’ve been saying for years that he’d make an awesome mechanical engineer.”

“Yeah, well…” Danny rubbed the back of his neck. “We’ll see what happens.”

“But you do wanna go to college?” Alicia asked.

“I mean, I think so? Why?” 

“Well, I would have assumed you would have wanted to keep doing that ghost-fighting Phantom business.”

Ah. So they were talking about this now.

Danny had never felt so put under a microscope in his life. He would take another round of paparazzi interrogation over whatever this was.

Was it hot in this room for anyone else? Or just him?

“I—I don’t—” 

He caught Jazz’s eye, who thankfully came to his rescue. “Danny does that as a sort of community service. He doesn’t make any money off of it or anything.”

Alicia, for once, looked genuinely surprised. “No? Not even on your social media? I thought all you kids were making pocket money on social media nowadays.”

Danny had to suppress a guffaw. “Um, well, I couldn’t exactly link my bank account to my social media before all this went down. I—I guess I never really thought about that. I probably could now, but…I don’t—I don’t know. It’d feel wrong.”

“Huh, well I’ll be.” Alicia leaned back in her chair. “I’ll admit, kid, you certainly never cease to surprise me.”

He had no idea if he was supposed to thank her or be offended by that.

“As I said, we’re very proud of both of our kids,” Maddie said. She sipped her wine, giving a slight nod of approval to her sister as she did.

“The world is definitely changing. That’s for sure,” Alicia mused.

Danny let out a silent breath, supposing that was about as good as it would get from her. She was an old-fashioned woman from an old-fashioned community. Danny would almost certainly be second place to Jazz in this woman’s eyes for the rest of her life, but considering that he seemed to be lower than dirt to most of the public, Alicia not considering him the favorite was hardly the worst place to exist. 

So long as she didn’t show up with a gun and try to kill him, Danny could take a dose of skeptical comments here and there from her.

****

As usual, Danny woke up on Christmas Day with a foreboding sense of dread coursing through his body.

Although, this year, he couldn’t figure out why. Surely, he had undergone far worse things this year than surviving Christmas. But still, he couldn’t help but let that old resentment linger. And when the realization that he’d need to get out of bed hit him, he was half-wondering if he should just feign ill to avoid his family for the rest of the day. His parents would almost certainly believe him, with his long list of medications he dutifully took every day. Though, Jazz would be able to tell he was bullshitting.

He had to get out of bed, it seemed. But he would let himself take a little white pill first…

When the pain in his chest lessened and his limbs felt light once again, Danny was finally able to take his first real breath today. Maybe everything would be okay, and they would eat good food together, and make good conversation, and everyone would be happy.

Yeah. That would be nice.

He grabbed his walker and headed downstairs. Soon, he would be using forearm crutches. He’d tried a pair out at his last PT appointment and was surprised at just how much more convenient they were than a walker. He hadn’t been able to use them without the support of two adults bracing him, sure, but even just the taste of a smaller walking device rather than the bulky wheelchair and walker that he was currently using was more than a little tantalizing.

If he mastered the crutches, he could go on stairs. He wouldn’t be living the rest of his life under the constraints of elevators and—heaven forbid—stairlifts. 

He knew logically that there was nothing wrong with using those tools. Other people who needed stairlifts and elevators should use them judgment-free. But there was something wrong with him needing those things. 

Because he was Phantom.

And that was the key difference.

Pride at the forefront of his mind, he abandoned his stairlift in favor of trudging down the stairs at a painfully slow pace. He knew Aunt Alicia was watching him out of the corner of her eye, and he hoped that she could see just how much he was trying. No matter how weak and helpless the Guys in White wanted him to be, he wasn’t.

“Danno!” his father called once he’d reached the bottom of the stairs. “He’s finally awake!”

A little more breathless than he wanted to show, Danny meekly turned around to see his father in a full Santa suit, fake beard and all. 

“Merry Christmas!” Jack said.

Oh, that was right. His dad was his dad. “Merry Christmas.”

Jazz sauntered over to him and plopped a Santa hat atop his head.

“Hey!” Danny glared. He couldn’t risk letting go of his walker to bat the hat away. 

Her eyes sparkled impishly in return. “Just passing along the festive spirit!”

“Hi, sweetie!” Maddie said. “Merry Christmas!”

“Ho, ho, ho! Look at all the presents that I—Santa—delivered to these good children!” Jack puffed out his chest and pointed toward the now sufficiently stocked Christmas tree.

“Oh my god, Dad.” Danny almost cringed to death. “You don’t have to—”

“Of course I do, sonny boy! It’s all about getting into the Christmas spirit! Ho, ho, ho!”

“I’m going to puke.”

“Hah!” Alicia barked a laugh, her cheeks rosy.

Danny eyed her eggnog suspiciously.

“Not much for the Santa stuff, huh, kid?” 

“Not really,” Danny responded. “My parents never really did this stuff before, either.”

“There’s always time to start new traditions, honey!” Maddie responded, taking a sip of her eggnog as well. Like Alicia, her eyes seemed a little too bright for the morning.

His legs sufficiently shaking, Danny wasted no time in following his family over to the kitchen where a giant spread of food fit for a family of ten was waiting for him. 

“Good timing, by the way! If you hadn’t come down soon, I would have come wake you up,” Maddie said, stowing his walker off to the side once he’d gotten settled in his chair. “Brunch is ready. Juice?”

“Sure.”

“God, it’s been ages since we’ve had a Christmas together. Hasn’t it, Mads?” Alicia asked.

“I know!” Maddie closed the cupboard, glass in hand, and opened the fridge for the orange juice carton. “Not since Dad was still around.”

“I miss that old geezer.”

“He was a good man!” Jack agreed.

For once, Alicia didn’t bite his head off for speaking to her directly, likely too under the influence to care. “I’ve been trying to figure out how he makes that smoked brisket, but I’ve never quite mastered it.”

“You’ve gotten pretty close!” Maddie said.

“Mads, you’re just saying that ‘cause you have the palate of a toddler,” Alicia ribbed. Lowering her voice, she said to Jazz, though loud enough for everyone to overhear anyway, “Your mother’s a lot of things, but a chef is not one of them. One time when we were teens, she damn near burned the house down making toast. Toast! Who the hell does that?”

Maddie laughed, placing the orange juice and this morning’s dose of medication in front of Danny.

“Our neighbor thought the house was gonna burn down and called 911! The fire department showed up and everything!” Alicia pounded the table with her fist, howling laughter overtaking her.

Everyone else was also in stitches. Everyone aside from Danny, that was, who was trying to down his meds as quickly as possible so as not to let Alicia get a glimpse of the cocktail of pills he’d been prescribed. 

He’d only just gotten her as an ally. There was no need to remind her that he was actually a mutant freak.

“That was a long time ago!” Maddie countered through her chuckles. “I’ve improved since then!”

“Okay, that’s fair. Although, I still did most of the handiwork today.”

“You cooked all this?” Danny asked, eyeing the pans of quiche, cinnamon buns, and bacon.

He was so thankful that of all the things the government had ruined for him, the smell of bacon was not one of them.

“Most of it! Your mom helped me some.”

“Well, let’s not dillydally!” Jack ripped off his hat—taking the beard with it—and tucked it off to the side. “Dig in!”

For once, Danny actually let himself enjoy the meal. Perhaps it was the atmosphere, this new spark of energy that there hadn’t been before. The laughter constantly emanating from the table, the warm, inviting smells of good food, the rambunctious chatter popcorning off the walls of the kitchen. It had been so long since Danny had felt like his home was truly a home. But today, at this moment, he could genuinely feel some of that cold begin to thaw, and he could almost forget that his parents were designing a chip to control his core, that Alicia secretly hated his ghost half, that Jazz was going to leave him soon.

Almost.

But not quite.

The loud conversation made it hard for him to follow along sometimes. Especially under all the drugs, his brain had a habit of zoning out mid-conversation, and when he’d blink back into the chatter a moment later, he’d be missing some key information and would have to scramble to catch back up. His loose limbs helped the pain go away, but the dizzying side effects made him noticeably slow and clumsy with his fork. The first time his fork slipped through his fingers and fell onto his plate, he laughed it off with a comment about the Fenton Butterfingers Curse. The second time he dropped his fork? Well, that was a pattern.

One that he didn’t want Alicia to catch onto.

But that aside, the breakfast was good. It was wholesome. It was proof that they were really a family. A true, loving family. One that did family things like celebrate Christmas together.

At least, that was what he could pretend.

After they finished dishes, they opened gifts. He had actually tried—somewhat—with the little money he could scrape together this year. He’d long since understood that his parents loved their practical gifts, so he got his dad a pack of metal screws, and his mom a new pair of winter gloves. For Alicia, he got her some cleaning supplies for her gun collection. 

For his sister, he managed to find a notebook with little green ghosts on the cover, and the excited hug she’d given him seemed genuine enough. That, along with the promise that she would use it in her psych class next semester. 

“Only if—if you want,” Danny ducked his head.

“Of course I want, Danny!” Jazz playfully batted his shoulder. “Now, it’ll be like you’re right there with me every time I go to study!”

Danny tried his best to shove down the heat that threatened to overtake his cheeks. His sister could be such a dork when she wanted to be.

Although Danny wasn’t expecting much in return—his family had never really given big gifts before—his parents had genuinely left him speechless with theirs. 

At first, it was because he had no idea what the gift was supposed to be. 

“Press that button right there,” Jack said, pointing vaguely at the two small metal contraptions in Danny’s hands.

“Where?” Danny asked.

“Right on the side!” Jack said. “There’s a button on each of them.”

Danny felt around the sides of one of the sleek tubes for a button, and sure enough, when he pressed it, the tube expanded into a full-sized metal forearm crutch with black and green accents. 

Danny couldn’t help but let his eyes widen as he expanded the next one too. “Oh, whoa. Wow.”

“We know you don’t have your ghost form back right now, hon, but when you do, you’re not going to want to carry around anything bulky when you switch back and forth,” Maddie explained. “We didn’t think the current crutch designs were compact enough, so we’ve been working on these ones for the past few weeks. You just press the button and they’ll collapse back into their tubes that you can shove in your backpack or store wherever you need.”

Danny turned the crutches around in his fingers, his brain already buzzing at all the opportunities this would give him. Now, he didn’t have to worry if his Phantom form got tired. He could just switch back. Well, as soon as he figured out how to use the crutches, that was. But he could go outside now! And if he got good enough, he could even use them at school!

The thought of not being half the height of his classmates anymore was enough for his lips to curl up in a smile. “Wow, thanks.” He looked up at his parents, not sure if he’d managed to suppress the green glint in his eyes, and not exactly caring either way. “This—this is going to change so much. Holy—wow. Thank you.”

His dad slapped a hand on his shoulder. “Course, son! Gotta make sure you’re all set up now, don’t we?”

The rest of the gifts were doled out, and though Danny had collapsed the crutches back into their tubes, he refused to let them part with his hands. They stayed curled in his fists until long after all the wrapping paper had been cleared from the floor, his dad took a break from the festivities to disappear into the basement, and his mom and aunt made their way into the kitchen to drink more eggnog and chat about the good old days.

The tree lights gave the room a warm glow, warping around the ornaments and bubbling the walls with splashes of yellow. It was cozy, and for maybe the first time in his life, Danny understood why people liked having Christmas trees in their homes.

“Hey, Danny?” Jazz asked.

Danny turned to see her eyes trained on the fake fire flickering on the television.

“What?” he asked.

“Are you gonna be okay? You know, when I go off to school?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Danny asked, but his voice didn’t have the bite he had intended.

Maybe it was the warmth in the room. Maybe it was his fatigue hitting him. 

Maybe it was the odd guilt clawing in the pit of his stomach.

“I just…” Jazz huffed. 

“Jazz, you need to go to school,” he said, cutting her off. “I’ll—I’m fine. Seriously.”

Jazz didn’t look convinced.

“I’m really happy you…you stayed. But I’m healing, I got Mom and Dad and my friends. I have the—the therapists. You know? I—I’ll be fine.”

Jazz nodded slowly. 

But Danny could still see the fear in her eyes.

“Why?” he asked, turning it back on her.

“I don’t know. Maybe I shouldn’t be bringing this up now, but I know you’re still holding back with…everything. I just don’t want you to feel like you have to bottle stuff up just because I won’t be around anymore.”

“I’m not bottling anything up,” Danny countered. At her look, he amended. “Okay, I’m bottling a few things up. But—but really, Jazz, the big stuff? I promise I’ve talked about. I’m just adjusting still.”

“You promise?” Jazz asked, her teal eyes wide with hope. 

The nothingburger his lies had been now felt like a thousand pounds on his shoulders, but he knew that if he said no, then Jazz would never be able to be present at school. That she’d be too afraid to make close friends, commit to a club, or enjoy her new life because she would always have one hand on her phone waiting for a call from Maddie, or worse, the police. 

So Danny put on the most reassuring, loving expression he could as he uttered the words that nailed the metaphorical coffin shut: “I promise.”

“Thank you.”

****

previous / next

****

Thank you to @imekitty and @astatia-ghast for the beta work! Also huge thank you to @bibliophilea for helping me get over my insane writer's block with this chapter. I owe y'all for real 🙏

[onskepa]

Can we get a neteyam x human reader?? She's lyle's daughter, also human and made friends with spider. When lo'ak comes to save him, he wants to take her with him but she can't just leave her dad here

You can end it however you want

Hellooooooooooo sweetie~!!

So I hope you dont mind this being a short one, but its a good one! Enjoy~!!

---------

Yewn

“Do you ever think we might see them…?” Young spider asks his sister at arms, Yewn. The young girl thinks about the question and shakes her head. “I don't think so, they are dead for a long time. It is like Jake said, good riddance” she replies. 

Both lay down on top of the old lab shack, staring up at the night sky. 

“They were bad guys, and killed a lot of the na’vi…” Spider says, convincing himself of certain feelings. 

“Exactly. So stop thinking about our dads, I bet they won't even care if they do come back from the dead” 

“Kid, you won't last another day if you don't eat, '' Lyle Wainfleet says. He bends down looking rather tired and slightly annoyed. 16 year old yewn just stared at him as if he was the worst shit on the entire planet. To which he is in her eyes.

“Fuck off” was all she says time and time again.

“Yewn-”

“Shut up, don't call me that. You have no right to call me that!” yewn yells at him in anger. A lot was happening in such a short time. Her friends were attacked and held hostage, went to help, spider’s mask broke, stayed behind to help him, only to be taken and be separated from him.

The room is cold, colder than the labs. Everything was so lifeless. She hated it.

But there is nothing more she hates, than the man, or dreamwalker in front of her.

“If you don't eat, you will die, '' Lyle tells her again. And again, yewn just hisses at him.

“Good, I would rather die than confess anything to you or that old bitch!”

Lyle rolls his eyes, hopefully quaritch has better luck than him.

Her plan was cut way too short. Spider took the lead in showing the recoms how to climb, run, and jump through the big vines and floating mountains. Spider was a true expert in that field, so yewn stayed a little more behind. By adding more pressure to the weak points of the vines, the goal was to tear some down but the recoms would step on them by their own body weight. Spider was doing the same, the plan was to have them all step in a weak vine so that they can fall to their deaths. 

Obviously that didn't work. 

Lyle was quick to catch what she and spider were doing. While he did not report to Quaritch what they were quietly doing, lyle took it upon himself to straighten the kids out. 

“If you want us dead, it will take a lot more than that” he tells Yewn. And yewn would take note of it. Next time, she will do better. 

“Getting the hang of it now” Lyle says as he flies on his ikran with yewn. The girl missed flying up high in the sky. The thrill of doing amazing tricks, how nete-

No, while Yewn is still in the human's custody, no thoughts of him will appear in her mind. Anything can happen and they can use whatever she accidently shares against her. 

Besides, there is something else occupying her mind and her full attention. 

“Come on bro! We have to get them, they are still on the ship!” Lo’ak pleads to neteyam. It didnt take much to convince the older brother, nodding eagerly, both head deeper to the ship to find their friends. All the while trying to avoid enemies all around. 

Quietly they climb up some pipes and hide, lo’ak points downwards to see spider and yewn being shoved somewhere. 

“We get it! We are going, fucking bastards” spider cusses at the humans behind him. Him and yawn look really annoyed, but oddly compliant. Taking the chance, the brothers jumped and began to attack the humans. 

Yewn and spider were surprised to see them but quickly catched on. Fighting as well, the four managed to take down the humans around them. Taking the weapons, neteyam, lo’ak, spider and yewn were armed and ran for the edge of the ship. 

“Come on, come on! We are almost there!” neteyam yells, shoving yewn forward until bullets were being shot. 

“GO GO GO!” spider yells, he and lo’ak jump first into the sea. But yewn and neteyam couldnt in time. 

“Yewn get back over here!” 

Neteyam turns to see a false avatar, his gun pointing at him. 

“I won't tell you again, come here now!” the fake shouted. Neteyam looks down and sees yewn shaking. Was it fear? Hesitance?

She was close to taking a step forward but neteyam stopped her. 

Yewn looks up at him, ready to cry. 

“Are you insane!? Lets go, he won't hurt you again” neteyam burgers her, shifting her closer to the edge but yewn fights back. “No no! You don't get it! I can't just leave him!” Yewn shouts. Her fear and desperation growing. 

“Yes you can, he hurt you!” neteyam shouts back. But yewn only looks back at lyle, their eyes making contact. Yewn knows he is silently pleading to go to him. That part yewn is afraid of. To go back to lyle means to go back to those horrid conditions the general had her go under. 

“No! I just cant leave him like this-” 

“And why the hell not?!” 

“BECAUSE HE IS MY DAD!!”

“Hey lyle-” 

“You know, you can call me dad if you like…” recom lyle informs yewn in an awkward way. Yewn looks up at him, almost in a disapproving look. There was a few seconds of silence before Yewn walked on the other side of the room, not continuing what she was going to say. 

Lyle walked over to see what she wanted to tell him. “Hey, im sorry, I thought that it-” 

“Would be easier for me? Think again, you are just forcing yourself. I will never call you dad. You don't deserve that title. Not now, not ever fuckface” Yewn states with disgust in her tone. Lyle sighed, hanging his head low. Just when he thought where was progress, he took 5 steps back.

“He is my dad….and I just cant leave him….” Yewn cries out to neteyam. This was massive news to him. But he concludes that staying in the massive prison was messing with yewns mind. Making her think things that are not true. 

If they weren't in such a situation, lyle would hug her and say sweet words in her ear. Finally yewn accepted him, but now there is a problem that lies between lyle and yewn. Just one bullet should be enough to take down that savage boy of Sully’s. 

“YEWN!” he calls to her, his daughter turns to look at him, her eyes distraught, not knowing what to do. 

“Please yewn, we are so close! Come on, he is not your dad! He is dead! I won't let you be surrendering to him or any evil sky demon!” Neteyam shouts loud enough for Lyle to hear. And it is ticking him off. 

Neteyam guide yewn close to the edge, their hearts racing. To calm her as he leads her to the edge, he places his hand on her shoulder, urging her more to jump. Neteyam can finally save her!

Yewn was looking down at the sea, her ears ringing. Could she go? Could she leave lyle and-

BANG!

Aaaaaaaaaaand that is it for this one! Hope you all enjoyed this one! Until next time! See ya!

--------

Yewn = express convey (a thought or feeling)

[nethhiri]

Marooned: Chapter 15

Kid x FemReader x Killer

Warnings: None

Hangovers and Hang-ups

Killer leaned against the wall of Kid's workshop while Kid took a closer look at your log pose. "What's your plan with her?" Killer had taken care of you until you passed out. He had thrown you over his shoulder and taken you to Kid's huge bathtub. He had thought about tucking you into his bed so you would be more comfortable; he knew you would have a raging hangover in the morning and Killer could always sleep in Kid's bed so you could have his room to yourself. As nice as he could be, and even after you treated him, he didn't want you to puke in his sheets, so he settled for a pillow and comforter thrown into the tub with you. It would be easier to clean if you threw up there. He felt bad about leaving you in clothes covered in now-stale beer, but he felt worse when he thought about taking them off, unable to shake the image of your mouth around his fingers while your eyes burned into his through the holes in his mask. It brought heat rushing up his neck thinking about it now.

Kid shrugged. "Wire said we have another week until we get ta the next island. Our deal was that she gets off there." He continued to tinker with the log pose. "If I still want to fuck her by then, I'll make her change her mind. We need a doctor anyway." 

"I think we need to figure out who she is before you think about keeping her on this ship, if she even wants to stay. You don't think it's odd that she won't tell anyone her name? That she can put up a fight?" Killer picked up your weapon that had been sitting on the corner of Kid's bench. It was a unique design, though he was certain he had seen something like it before. "Do you remember when we first started out, the time we got intercepted by marines?"

"Nah. Why?"

"No reason." It was fuzzy, yet the tool in his hands made Killer keep thinking back to that time. Something was there. He wanted to be sure before he brought it to Kid's attention. "If she doesn't want anyone to know her name, she must think we'll recognize it, which brings a few possibilities: she's from a rival crew, she's a marine, or she has a bounty. Maybe a combination of those. And then there's the separate matter of what she told me last night about not being able to swim. She might have a Devil Fruit." 

Kid cackled. "If Trafalgar or Strawhat had a bonnie lass like that on their crew, I would have kidnapped her in Sabaody. Those two losers haven't seen a tit in their lives. Wouldn't even know what ta do with pussy." Kid seemed pleased with himself, whether it was from his own jab or his tinkering was unclear. The log pose split into two halves in front of him. "What a shit log pose... If a marine has a name that big, they would be an admiral and she isn't one." Kid paused to think, "Don't we have some old bounty posters somewhere? Go through them with Heat and see if she's there." Kid looked at the dials more closely. "Killer, look at this." His took one off and flipped it upside down. 

Killer moved to the bench, setting your gun down. He picked up the pose's needle that Kid removed. "There's... a small piece of paper."

Kid took the other two needles off. "These too." The three needles on the table shifted, ever so slightly, in three separate directions.

"Those are vivre cards!" Killer was impressed with the ingenuity. It wasn't a real log pose at all, it was a tracker of sorts, and it seemed to be aimed at three people. Family? Friends? Or... enemies. 

"What a clever little bitch." Kid reassembled it so that you wouldn't know it had been tampered with. "No wonder she wanted it back so badly." Kid had been confused initially. He showed it to Wire, who compared it to their own log pose, and concluded that it was broken since the needles didn't point the same as theirs. 

"You mean no wonder she would tolerate fucking you for this long otherwise." Killer dodged a wrench launched in his direction.

Kid shoved the log pose in his pocket. He did say he would give it back. "DON'T BE JEALOUS!" 

"I'm not," Killer said in a teasing tone, getting ready to slip out the door.

Kid narrowed his eyes in his best friend's direction. "Did she fuck you?" He thought back to what you had said before emptying your stomach over the railing. "KILLER?!" 

The masked man left Kid's workshop with his captain's shouting trailing after him and a sly grin on his face. Killer thought it was fun to ruffle Kid's feathers and get him worked up. Killer knew Kid wouldn't be mad if he had fucked you; Kid simply liked keeping track of his playthings. And Killer also knew that Kid would have wanted to compare notes to make sure you weren't holding out on him. 

Grumbling, Kid examined your weapon. He had made some improvements to it so that it met his standards. Kid was going to present it to you at the party as a gift, but he decided at the last minute that would be lame. It didn't have anything to do with the scenarios in his head where you didn't like it that left his hands clammy. He wasn't even going to do much to it, but he ran out of things to do when Killer told him his helmet was fixed and that he didn't need a new one. That concerned Kid for two reasons: anyone but him would have to weld it back together and there were no weld marks. 

It fucking sucked waking up. You were sore from being in the hard tub all night, you were nauseated, and you had the worst headache of your life. For a while, you had turned on the hot water, still in clothes, and let it rain down on you after moving the pillow and sheets that Killer had left you out of the tub. There wasn't a lot that you remembered from last night other than winning a pair of pants, that you would be sure to collect on, and Killer holding your hair back when you got sick. How embarrassing... like a damn teenager.  You pulled yourself up with a groan, plopped the soaked dress on the floor, and washed all of last night off.

When you were drying off, you heard a soft knock from Killer's end of the bathroom. You hadn't noticed the first time, but the captain's room and the first mate's were joined by this bathroom, a door on each end. Throwing the sheets around your shoulders to cover yourself, you opened the door to Killer's towering frame. 

"You look like shit." 

You blinked at him, simultaneously offended and amused. "I feel like shit." 

He moved to let you walk past him. "You should drink some water."

You looked around. His room was more simple and less dark than Kid's. "Thank you, Dr. Massacre Soldier. I'll take that into consideration." It felt like an intrusion to sit directly on his bed. There weren't any chairs and he wasn't kicking you out though, so you sat on the floor next to the wall, bringing the sheet over your head to block the light. There was a creak as Killer's weight sank on his bed across from you.

"Wire says it'll be about a week before we reach the next island. What will you do then?"

The pounding in your head nearly drowned out his question. "Eager to get rid of me, huh?" 

"No one's making you leave."

"Not yet."

"You know, you don't have to be a smart-ass all the time. There's no need to be so defensive" Killer couldn't gauge your reaction under the sheet. "You think you're so special that we'll even give a shit who you are?" 

That made you laugh. "Well now you're just making me sound like an asshole." You uncovered your face to look Killer in the eyes, well, mask holes. "It's not about who I am. It's about who I used to be." 

"We've all done things we aren't proud of... except Kid. I don't think he has regrets." Killer offered. 

You sat up, pulling your knees in and burying your face in them. "The thing is... I was proud of it. Until I learned my career was a sham. Wasted part of my life doing..." You sighed. "Killer, I know you're trying to be sympathetic or whatever and I appreciate what you did for me, but I'm only trying to make it to land alive, so I can do what I have to do." You stood up and mumbled on your way out, "I've already been ripped apart and left for dead by a crew once. Don't need to relive it." It was impossible to be betrayed again if you had no one close enough to do so. 

Next

[cigarettesandinevitablebetrayal]

For Rashad/Wei/Ric-- 43, 48 For Mateo/Mortum-- 15, 30 ?

Rashad/Wei/Ricardo

43) Who gets up early? Who stays in bed late?

Rashad gets up the earliest, if you count insomnia and PTSD nightmares as getting up early. Wei's close behind, as I don't think either sleep very soundly. Ricardo wakes up not long after, but definitely chooses to laze about in bed longer, especially if it's a day when they've got nothing planned. He's dragged them back into bed more times than Rashad can count or that Wei is willing to count.

48) If they ever had less that 5 mins to tell their S/O something before never seeing them again, what would they say?

As their relationships stand currently at the end of Retri...

Rashad: "There was nothing you could do to change this, but that doesn't mean nothing you did mattered. It mattered to me."

Wei: "Forgive each other. You were always stronger together."

Ricardo: "Make sure to only tell the flattering stories about me...and you were right. I wasn't ready. I'm sorry."

Mateo (or, specifically, as his puppet, Marianna)/Mortum

15) How do they comfort one another when the other is upset?

Because of the nature of their jobs involving a lot of secrecy, there isn't a lot that they can do involving talking about what might upset them or really getting to understand why they might be upset. So a lot of their comforts tend to involve distraction. Marianna will bring over a bottle of wine and Mortum will supply the gossip. They'll sit and laugh into the night. Buy each other a little peace to not think about their troubles.

30) Describe how one character would cheer the other up after a hard day.

If Mortum is having a hard day, Marianna will step out to grab some groceries and come back to cook. She (lovingly) strong-armed her way into bringing a portable stovetop into his lab kitchen and has been slowly filling his cabinets with spices and staple foods. She never tells him when she starts cooking, just lets the smell slowly fill the air and draw him in.

Cooking has always been a soothing practice for Mateo. It's a way to invite someone into your community, your family, your home. And with the way Mortum eats, he'd like to get the good doctor to eat a vegetable or two every now and then. And he likes the way Mortum smiles when he watches Marianna cook.

Find More Relationship Questions Here

[multi-fan-dom-madness]

Midnight Masquerade - Invitation

Summary: You receive a mysterious invitation to an equally mysterious costume party off-world. While you don't normally do things like this, you're glad you decided to attend this party, especially once you realize what you stand to gain.

Warnings: reader is a monsterfucker; monster!clone au; unexplained Force magic potions; alcohol consumption; this intro is pretty tame but minors DNI regardless; individual chapters will be tagged with specific kinks and additional warnings

Word Count: 2.8k

MDFM's masterlist | Suggested listening for this series

You’d been distracted all day, mind fixated on the mysterious invitation and accompanying note you returned home to last night. A simple rectangle of orange paper, the invitation’s words spun dizzying circles in your mind: “Come not as you are...but as you wish to be.” The note, signed simply from “your favorite trooper,” explained that the proclaimed “midnight masquerade” is for a costume party to be held today, off-world—but that’s the extent of the information you know. 

Maker, you don’t normally do things like this. Granted, you don’t often have time to do things like this; working as a senatorial aide leaves much to be desired in terms of a healthy work/life balance. If you’re being honest with yourself, you’ve been feeling stuck lately, wishing for something greater, something better, something more, to happen to you.

Which brings you here, to the mystery destination. The ship you’d chartered on Coruscant had given you a gorgeous view from space of this planet, a giant crystal ball, glimmering pastel blue in the light of the local star. Up close, though, the landscape is even more breathtaking. Towering spires of crystal glow from the inside in shades of white, blue, and purple. As you step tentatively toward the nearby town, the ground crunches underfoot, as though you walk over a field of tiny crystals. Jaw hanging open, a rush of awed excitement pours through you, electric and hot. 

The town itself looks almost out of place. Curving durasteel and plaster walls clash in harsh juxtaposition with the natural landscape. So far, you’ve seen no signs of other people or the planet’s native inhabitants. Swallowing thickly, you do a full 360. Anxiety begins to churn in your stomach. Thoughts, each darker than the last, chase each other in circles in your mind. In your palm, you clutch the invitation so hard it crumples.

“Hello there,” a singsong, ethereal voice calls.

“Kriff!” You nearly jump out of your skin. 

“I did not mean to startle you,” the voice says. A moment later, a tall, slender being emerges from behind one of the nearby pillars. Skin almost the same shade of blue as the crystal, they smile at you with such otherworldly beauty that you find you can’t breathe properly. Standing easily ten feet tall, they seem to glide forward, robes of pure black draping over their body like shadows, iridescent hair cascading down their back.

“Do you carry an invitation?”

You blink dumbly. “Um. Y-Yes. Here.” You hurry to smooth out the piece of paper before presenting it.

Their cloudy eyes drift serenely down to the paper. “Excellent. Right this way. There are many who have already arrived.”

Turning, they begin to meander towards town. You rush to catch up. As you approach the cluster of buildings, you notice signs of the party that was promised. Bassy music thrums up through the soles of your feet, and the scent of mulled cider tantalizes your nose and taste buds alike. But still a worm of anxiety wriggles within you. 

“Sorry, but, what exactly is this party?”

The strange being’s gaze caresses your face. “It is a most sacred ceremony in celebration of life, during a time in which death is closest. The spirits grow restless; we do our best to placate them through dressing in costume, among other things.”

As a senatorial aide, you’ve had many years’ practice of schooling your expression into polite neutrality. It’s a mask you wear well. You find yourself donning it now. While you don’t discount the possibility of veils between planes, spirits, and the like—not to mention the Force, not with the Jedi constantly in the Senate—you personally harbor no such beliefs. 

“Understood,” you say. 

The being chuckles, a pleasant, tinkling sound, like a wind chime in the evening breeze. “Not yet. But you soon will.” They glide to a halt in front of a large building, from which the sounds and smells of merriment emanate. “Here I leave you.” 

In the time it takes for you to approach the door and turn back to thank your guide, they’ve vanished. A shiver snakes up your spine. “Creepy.”

The blaring, synth-rock music is a physical force to the chest as you push the door open. Where the landscape outside is a swirl of crisp, crystalline blues, the interior is a foggy expanse lit by hues of rich violet, burnt orange, and vivid green. Gnarled, bare trees dot the large room as decoration. Several dozen high-top tables cloaked in tattered cloths are laden with food and drink. 

Perhaps most striking, though, are the dozens upon dozens of troopers in costume. 

Door falling shut behind you, you can’t contain your wide, incredulous smile. As you begin to step toward the dance floor, you catch sight of Mayday, Hexx, and Veetch adorned in identical Frankenstein’s-monster-like face paint. Through a break in the crowd, you spot Kix carrying far too many shots in one hand, dressed as—a slutty nurse? You blink to make sure you saw that right.

Interspersed throughout the crowd are a handful of other nat-borns. You recognize none of them.

Someone grabs your arm. Jerking your head around, you heave a relieved sigh at the familiar sight of Rex. Atop his head rests a wire halo. His body is dressed in a loose, draping white toga, with fluffy white wings protruding from his back.

Your eyebrows shoot up, both in amusement and in genuine joy to see your friend. “Rex! I wasn’t expecting to see you here.”

“I lost a bet,” he admits with a cavalier smile. “Come on, we’ve got a spot saved for you.” 

Chest warming at his words (and definitely not at the glimpse of his partially bare, toned torso), you follow eagerly. Around you, costumed clones chatter away, sip drinks, and just generally appear far more relaxed than you’ve ever seen any of them before.

Near the edge of the room, lower tables have been set with seating and peculiar centerpieces. Glowing from within, the vase-like decorations sprout darkened and decaying flowers, stuck through with glitter bats, cats, and pumpkins—an odd assortment for a crystalline planet, but you’re distracted from the thought when you spot the table Rex leads you to. 

“When you said ‘we,’ I thought—”

“Torrent Company?” He flashes a wry grin over his shoulder. “Not quite. Gotta keep you on your toes, mesh’la.”

Squished around a table that is far too small for all of them are another ten troopers. Present are the entirety of Clone Force 99—a rare sight to see them sitting still; Commanders Cody, Wolffe, and Fox—your knees weaken when you realize you’ve never actually seen Fox without his helmet; and, deep in discussion, Fives and Sister, both of whom you’ve developed budding friendships with.

Rex squeezes into the booth between Cody and Fives. 

Jostled by his captain’s return, Fives glances around. His expression brightens when he sees you. “There’s our favorite aide!” he calls. 

Emboldened by his attention, you snag a nearby chair and pull it up to the last bit of free space at the table. To your left, Wolffe arches one severe eyebrow. His skin shines with a gray pallor, and a dark, twisting crown rises out of his curls. Black robes that look suspiciously like General Koon’s wrap around his body. To your right, Echo, dressed to the nines in a custom-tailored suit with red bowtie, gives you a genuine smile and nod. The rest of the troopers cheer or raise their glasses to you, welcoming you to the party.

“About time you showed up,” Fox deadpans. 

Someone pushes a shot into your hands. “What, didn’t think I’d miss getting blackmail material on you all, did you?”

As the others whoop and holler, Fox fixes you with a flat stare; around his eyes glint realistic scales, painted the same hue of red as his armor. Segmented horns curl up from his graying hair. As he lifts his drink to his lips, you catch the tiniest nod of appreciation from him. Your entire body flushes in satisfaction. 

Maker, this bunch is going to be the death of you.

You let yourself get swept into the current of the conversation. For the most part, you content yourself to listen. Occasionally one of them will ask you for input from a senatorial perspective, and they all seem to value what you have to add. But you’re more than happy just to observe. While each and every one of them are absolute stunners in regular life, tonight they all look divine, glowing with relaxation and costume makeup.

Most of their costumes are easy to parse together. Rex and Cody seem to have coordinated, Cody dressed as a devil to counter Rex’s angelic nature; Hunter has opted to dress as a werewolf halfway in the process of transforming; on Crosshair’s neck you spy two pinpricks of fake blood; Tech has donned a blood-spattered lab coat and swapped his usual yellow-tinted glasses for swirled ones; and the scales on Fox’s bare skin reveal his inner dragon. But you can’t quite pin down what Wrecker, Echo, Sister, Wolffe, and even Fives have dressed as.

With a shrug, you assure yourself you’ll find out at some point. 

You knock back the shot at last and grimace as it burns down your throat. Cody slides you another with a dangerous wink; you raise an eyebrow and shoot him a wink of your own. The deep, pulsing thrum of the music washes through you, and you let it control the rate of your heart. And you miss, or perhaps choose to ignore, the lingering looks they all give you, the ones that trail down your body and study your face with equal intensity. Heat, stoked by their looks and the liquid courage, simmers below your skin. 

The barest hint of an idea begins to form in your tipsy, buzzing brain. 

When Fives shoots you a conspiratorial smirk, raising his glass in a toast to you, you enact the half-formed plan. From the cluster of finger foods at the center of the table, you pluck a skewered olive, lift it to your mouth, and, eyes boring into Fives’s, make a show of licking the salty snack before wrapping your lips around it. Fives sputters and chokes on his drink. 

“Mesh’la,” Wolffe grits out, a warning note in his gravelly voice.

You turn wide, innocent eyes on him. “Something the matter, Commander?”

His grip on his glass tightens, to the point you worry he’s going to shatter it. Resisting the urge to wilt under his mismatched glare, you snag another olive and suck it into your mouth in much the same manner as the first. Wolffe breaks first, glancing away.

Around the table, the rest of them shift in their seats, acting like they didn’t all just watch you practically give head to those poor olives. Stifling a smirk of your own, you lean back, satisfaction lingering in your veins. After a moment, the conversation resumes its ebb and flow around you.

You’re not sure how much time passes before the music quiets and a dreamy, floating voice comes over the speakers. “Revered guests, now is the time for you to decide whether you will cross the shadowed veil and experience another form of living. Potions will be provided for consumption. You may notice that you become more than a mere costume. Be assured, the potion’s effects are temporary.

“One final word of caution: in the case of sexual coupling, it is inadvisable for more than one person to partake of the potion.”

A buzz of confused, excited chatter whispers across the assembled crowd. At the mention of possible intimacy, your skin flushes, heart beating rapidly against your ribcage. Whoever had been speaking has just dredged up the unspoken thing between you and every person at your table. An idea begins to bloom in your mind, spurred on by the alcohol in your system, the bone-rattling music, the sweet scent of the fog machines, the looks they’ve been giving you all night. You glance, suddenly shy, and find Rex already looking at you with concern slanted across his brow. With a smile, you relax. 

“I’ll get the potions!” Sister clambers out of her seat and disappears into the crowd. She reemerges several minutes later carrying a tray of shot glasses, each filled with a murky, swirling liquid. You grimace at it when she hands you one.

“We’re supposed to drink this?” you mutter, voice drowned out as the music resumes its previous volume. 

Wrecker sniffs at his glass. “It smells nice. Herbal and fruity.” 

Rex catches your attention again. “Maybe just one of us should try it first.”

You’re about to affirm what a good idea that is, when Cody’s gaze shifts from you to someone behind you. Turning, you watch as one of the Wolfpack downs the thick drink in one go. For a moment, nothing happens, and then his entire body shudders violently. You must have blinked, because suddenly he’s no longer fully corporeal, and instead floats a few inches above the ground, his body and clothes gray vapor and mist. You realize with a start that the entire squad is costumed similarly to Wolffe; he’s the only one wearing a crown.

Next to you, Wolffe heaves a sigh at the same time that Fives and Sister gasp out, “Wizard!” The two of them share a conspiratorial grin, then, clinking their glasses together, throw back the mystery shot.

The same odd shudder-and-blink phenomenon happens to them. In place of Fives’s plastic horns and fabric tail are suddenly real, bony horns protruding from his forehead and a writhing, leathery pointed tail. Sister’s nature-themed costume sprouts living flowers. Her braided hair becomes a mass of vines. 

“It appears that the drink turns you into your costume,” Tech observes, one finger raised.

“I would have never known,” Crosshair snarks. He, too, downs his shot. Skin growing paler, the mock wound at his neck dries into faded scars. When he flashes you a smirk, two pointed canines poke from between his lips. Arousal shoots through you with sudden heat, your core clenching.

One by one, the troopers around you down their potions, until you’re the last one left. Mulling over the announcement, you weigh your options. You’d be a liar if you said you haven’t had a few...indecent thoughts since arriving tonight. But you know none of these troopers would hold it against you if you decided to drink the potion and similarly transform.

Twirling the glass in your fingers, you shake your head to clear it and set the drink on the table. 

“I have a proposition for you all,” you say, leaning forward. You preen a little when you see you have their rapt attention. Confidence surges through you, hot and languid and bold. A smile curls over your face.

“I’ve always wanted to know how a monster fucks.” 

For a brief moment, the table remains draped in silence, punctuated only by the nearby raucous shouts of other clones and the heady, bassy music. Then, all at once—

Tech, always aiming for precision: “Technically, we are not monsters, but rather realistic imitations of them.” 

Crosshair, snarky and smug: “Really think you could handle it, doll?”

Cody, one stern eyebrow raised: “Is that so, mesh’la?” 

Sister blushes a wonderful shade of red, giggling as she reaches up to close Fives’s hanging jaw. Hunter squints at you. In the strobing multicolored lights, his eyes seem to reflect like an animal’s. Only Wolffe and Echo seem to have maintained their composure, though you catch the dangerous smirk toying at Echo’s lips.

As the initial outburst of reactions subsides, Fox snorts, a gasp of smoke puffing from his now-elongated snout. “That sure was a funny way of begging, little one.” 

“I only beg for those who earn it, Commander Fox,” you say, a little too sweetly, judging by the way his eyes—dark and reptilian and piercing—rove your features.

Rex clears his throat, drawing your attention back towards him. Your breath catches; in the chaos of everyone transforming into their costumed selves, you’d somehow missed the finer details of Rex’s new form. The fluffy white wings, formerly attached by elastic, now rest gently against his back, shifting as he adjusts in his seat. Floating above his head, casting his face in radiant beauty, the halo burns in a miniature solar flare. 

“All you have to do is say the word, mesh’la,” he says.

Swallowing, the trickling realization of what you’ve gotten yourself into finally sinking in, you shake your head. You dart up from your seat and rush to a nearby trash receptacle. Thankfully, you don’t have to dig, the object you need resting near the top. 

You return to the table with an empty bottle. Eleven near-identical expressions of dismay and confusion clear as you settle back into your seat and rest the bottle on the table in front of you.

“Let’s let fate decide.” 

You spin the bottle, watching, mesmerized and anxious, as it rotates in a blur, before coming to a rest, its neck pointing at...

...Crosshair

...Fives

...Echo

...Sister

...Tech

...Rex and Cody

...Wrecker

...Fox

...Wolffe

...Hunter

Ragu list: @the-hexfiles @thorsterstrudle @dystopicjumpsuit @clonemedickix @freesia-writess @littlemissmanga @wolffegirlsunite @anxiouspineapple99 @wings-and-beskar @sinfulsalutations @523rdrebell @sunshinesdaydream @moonlightwarriorqueenn @sev-on-kamino @starrylothcat @deejadabbles @starqueensthings @mandos-mind-trick @idontgetanysleep @eyeluvmusic21 @wizardofrozz @mythical-illustrator @sleepycreativewriter (if you'd like to be added or removed, click here!)

[fragmentfantacy18]

Just a Crush

Mia stood in front of the mirror in her trailer, adjusting her hair for what felt like the hundredth time. The first day of shooting Outer Banks was still a blur in her mind, but now, months later, she felt like she had settled into the rhythm of the show. She had grown close with the cast—Chase, Madelyn, JD, and of course, Drew Starkey. Drew, with his quiet confidence and that easy-going smile, had quickly become someone Mia couldn’t help but think about.

It had all started innocently. From the moment they met, Drew had been warm and welcoming, cracking jokes and making her feel at ease in what was otherwise a nerve-wracking situation. The cast bonded quickly, spending nearly every waking hour together between shoots, script readings, and long days on set. They were a family now, and Drew—well, Drew had this way of making her laugh, of making her feel seen.

But the more time Mia spent with Drew, the more she realized that the casual camaraderie had begun to morph into something else, at least for her. She’d catch herself thinking about him after they wrapped for the day or finding excuses to sit next to him during lunch. And then there was that smile—the one that made her heart skip a beat every time he flashed it her way.

It was a crush, plain and simple. And it was hers to keep secret.

No one knew. Not Madelyn, who was her closest friend on set, and definitely not Drew. Mia was good at playing it off, acting like nothing was out of the ordinary. They were just castmates—friends who happened to work well together. The fact that Drew didn’t seem to notice anything made it both easier and harder. Sometimes, he’d flash her a grin during a scene or throw a sarcastic comment her way, and she’d feel that jolt of excitement. Other times, she’d wonder if he saw her as nothing more than just another coworker.

Then season one came out.

The show blew up overnight, their Instagram accounts flooded with comments, fan theories, and excitement for what was to come. Suddenly, the group was doing press, interviews, and all sorts of social media promotions to keep up with the growing fan base.

That’s how Mia found herself sitting on a couch in one of their shared apartments, phone propped up on a stand, ready to go live on Instagram to promote Outer Banks with the rest of the cast.

“Alright, we’re live!” JD announced, hitting the button on his phone as everyone piled into the frame.

“Hey, guys!” Madelyn said, waving at the screen. “What’s up, OBX family?!”

Chase jumped in next. “We’re here to answer all your questions, talk about the show, and just hang out for a bit.”

Drew slid onto the couch beside Mia, his shoulder brushing hers as he leaned in to get into the shot. She stiffened slightly at the contact, but quickly masked it with a smile. She could already see the comments scrolling up on the screen, fans flooding the live chat with excitement.

“Hey, everyone!” Drew said with that signature grin, waving at the screen. “What’s up? What’s everyone doing?”

Mia let out a laugh, leaning closer to the camera. “Probably watching Outer Banks for the third time,” she teased, and the group laughed along with her.

“Or plotting our next disaster,” JD added, winking at the camera.

The comments were already pouring in, but one caught Mia’s attention.

“OMG, Drew and Mia! The chemistry!” one fan wrote.

Another comment followed: “They’re so cute together!”

Mia felt her cheeks heat up, but she played it off, shooting a glance at Drew, who was scrolling through the comments on his own phone.

“Oh no,” she muttered under her breath, catching sight of the same comment. “The fans are already shipping us.”

Drew smirked and leaned in closer, so his face was inches from hers, his expression teasing. “Shipping us? Mia and I? Please. I think we’re more of a disaster duo.”

Mia raised an eyebrow, fighting the smile that threatened to break through. “Oh, really? You think you could handle being in a ship with me?”

Drew chuckled, shaking his head. “Oh, I could handle it, alright. The real question is—could you?”

JD cut in, grinning as he nudged them both. “Oh, come on, you two. The banter is killing me.”

Chase laughed from the other side of the couch. “They’re like an old married couple already!”

“Exactly!” Madelyn chimed in, her eyes wide with fake seriousness. “Just bickering all the time.”

Mia laughed along with everyone, but she couldn’t deny the warmth spreading through her. Drew’s sarcasm always had a way of making her laugh, even when it was directed at her.

“Alright, alright,” Drew said, holding his hands up in mock surrender. “I’m not saying we’d be a bad couple. But come on, look at her,” he said, gesturing toward Mia with a dramatic flourish. “She’d destroy me with that wit.”

Mia rolled her eyes but played along, leaning back into the couch with a grin. “You’d deserve it.”

More comments poured in, fans loving the back-and-forth between them.

“They’re totally flirting!”

“Drew and Mia HAVE to date, no question.”

“Look at the way he’s looking at her!”

Mia tried not to let it get to her, but she couldn’t stop the small smile tugging at the corners of her mouth as she glanced at Drew. He caught her eye, and for a moment, something unspoken passed between them. It was just a fleeting look, but it made Mia’s heart race.

“Okay, back to the questions, people,” Chase said, waving at the camera. “We’ve got, like, ten minutes left, so hit us with your best.”

JD read out one of the questions. “Alright, this one’s for Mia—what was your favorite scene to film in season one?”

Mia sat up, thinking for a moment. “Ooh, that’s tough,” she said. “I loved filming the scenes with the Pogues, obviously, but I think my favorite was that big group scene on the boat. The energy was just so high, and we were all in it together.”

“And Drew?” JD asked, turning the question to him. “Favorite scene?”

Drew scratched the back of his head, thinking it over. “Honestly, the scenes where Rafe is just completely losing it,” he said, laughing. “I got to tap into some real crazy energy there.”

Mia shot him a sideways glance. “I don’t know, Drew. You were too good at playing unhinged. Should we be concerned?”

Drew gasped, pretending to be offended. “Excuse me? I’m an actor, Mia. It’s called range.”

“Oh, sure,” Mia said, her tone dripping with sarcasm. “Because you’re so different from Rafe in real life.”

“Hey, I’m not a psycho in real life,” Drew shot back, grinning. “Though you do bring out a certain side of me.”

Mia laughed, shaking her head as she leaned back into the couch. “I’m not even going to ask what that means.”

The fans in the comments were eating it up, flooding the chat with heart-eye emojis and comments about how “cute” they were together. Mia tried not to think too much about it, but she couldn’t help but notice how natural it felt—this banter, this back-and-forth with Drew. It was easy, fun, and it felt like they were the only two people in the room, even with the entire cast there.

As the Instagram Live started to wrap up, Chase turned to the camera, thanking the fans for all their support.

“Alright, guys, that’s all the time we’ve got for today,” he said, waving at the screen. “But keep watching Outer Banks, and we’ll see you soon!”

The cast waved as JD ended the live, and the room immediately burst into laughter.

“Man, they love you two together,” JD said, still scrolling through the comments.

Drew smirked, leaning back on the couch. “What can I say? Mia and I have great chemistry.”

Mia shot him a teasing glare. “Don’t let it go to your head, Starkey.”

“Too late,” Drew said with a wink, making the rest of the cast laugh.

As the group started to disperse, heading off to their trailers or making plans for dinner, Mia found herself standing in the corner of the room, Drew beside her. He was still scrolling through the fan comments on his phone, a small smile playing on his lips.

“They’re really into this whole ‘Drew and Mia’ thing,” he said, glancing at her. “What do you think?”

Mia shrugged, trying to play it cool. “I think they’re bored and need something to talk about.”

Drew chuckled. “Maybe. Or maybe they just see something we don’t.”

For a moment, their eyes met, and Mia felt that familiar flutter in her chest. She forced herself to smile, to act like it didn’t matter, like this was just another casual conversation between friends. But deep down, she wondered if maybe—just maybe—the fans weren’t completely off base.

Maybe they did see something between her and Drew.

But for now, Mia would keep her crush to herself, just like she always had.

[shankss-magnificent-ass]

Imagine Kaido sees potential in you and drafting you into his crew

You and your comrades: [defending your home by successfully holding off the Tobiroppo]

Kaido: hmm [evaluating your fighting techniques from a distance]

King: They're taking too long to get this over with. [Draws his sword and advances on your homes]

You: [watches King taking down your friends one by one using his fire, ] I need to do something, [looks around to see only a small fishpond in a neighbor's yard]

King: [sends a blast of flames in the direction of someone's home, only to stumble back in surprise when you leap through his flames, landing on his chest, with your weapons poised to gouge out his eyes.]

Kaido: King, stop, I want that one alive.

King: [grabs you, and holds you at arm's length, stunned you're alive,] Why the hell would you want this one alive!?

Kaido: Think about it. How many people can you say, with certainty, have been brave enough to charge your fire attacks, let alone come out unscathed?

King: [eyes you with irritation] Not a single person.

You: Fuck both of you, put me down! [narrowly miss clipping King's mask with your weapon]

Kaido: I think we've found the most valuable thing in this village, there is no need to waste any more time here.

King: [huffs in frustration before turning to the crew] Alright, it's time to pull back, Kaido has what he's looking for.

Sasaki: Ehh! But there is still so much we could take! We found a whole cellar of booze.

Kaido: [looks at you out of the corner of his eye before making up his mind] Leave it.

Black Maria: This isn't like you at all, leaving booze behind, I hope you'll share with me what's happening.

Kaido: What's going on is I want this one to join our crew [tossing his thumb over his shoulder, in your direction]

You and the Beast Pirate crew: WHAT!

You: Why would I join your crew?

Kaido: Not would, will. You will join my crew. Also, if you do, I will not only leave your village alone, it will fall under my protection, and I won't tax them.

King: You're not gonna even tax them a little bit?

Kaido: Not if they accept my deal.

You: [grits your teeth] Fine.

Kaido: Okay then, let's move out.

On Kaido's Ship

King: how did you make it through my fire?

You: I used Leidenfrosts effect in a two-part defense. I grabbed a quilt my neighbor had hanging out to dry on their laundry line, then dowsed it and myself in a nearby fishpond. I climbed up on the roof and used the quilt to make it through the brunt of your attack, to jump off the roof. When the water evaporated, I then tossed the quilt to the side and attacked you.

King: Leidenfrost effect?

You: When your fire hit me, it rapidly evaporated the water, creating a protective layer of steam around me. I wasn't sure it'd even work, I figured, fuck it, it was worth a shot. [shrugs]

Kaido: [cackles] I knew there was more to you than meets the eye.

King: so you damn near beheaded me with science?... I think I'm starting to see what Kaido sees in you.

You: please don't

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[aestariiwilderness]

Bad Batch -- Actually Probably Not Spoilers?

But Just In Case:

Like, for plot reasons, I see why they couldn't do it. But my biggest (and possibly the funniest) peeve I have with Bad Batch is this: Canonically, Tech is some kind of master hacker. Can forge chain codes after learning about them five seconds ago. Hacks battle droids -- presumably, you know, SECURED in some way -- on the regular. Masked a ship's signature or whatever. Calculates percentages of plans' successes on the fly while hanging upside down from a screechy flying reptile. Has zero fear (except when Omega is driving the Marauder or someone is doing the Wikipedia entry who isn't him) ("it's not affecting life support. We're fine"; riot racing; everything he's ever done). The moral heart of the Batch pre-Omega ("the systematic termination of the Jedi was a big one for me"; "I understand. I do not agree with you"; "of course we are a family"; "we have not always seen eye to eye with Crosshair but he is our brother and we do not leave our own behind"; but has no issue being pragmatic when it's called for (see: Cid, riot racing again, missions for Rex, interruptions thereof, etc.). Seriously. Wack job of a man. Crazy. Strict moral code arranged almost solely around his family that absolutely nobody sees coming and that, specifically, does NOT preclude massive destruction, property damage, and lethal measures. Ridiculous man. Homeschooled. Genetic Mandalorian. COMPETENT. (Usually.) Bona fide, literal, genetically-engineered test tube genius who is also biologically nine years old. Has no concept whatsoever of overkill. Point being -- he is EXACTLY the kind of person I would expect, once it sunk in that: 1. They are no longer Kaminoan/Republic property 2. They are, in fact, on the run with fam + new baby and - cranky but nonetheless beloved sniper bro who picked a terrible time to be stupid And 3. that "money" is now a thing they must Account For.... Give him two days to study finances, economy, and the various mafia; send him on a weekend trip to Nal Hutta to observe gangs, and hey presto -- the Hutts? overthrown in a year. Black Sun? Under new management. Pykes? A thing of the past. The Senate? Convening emergency sessions to discuss Where All the Money Has Gone. Palpatine's Secret Slush Fund #43? Drained. Hemlock's Science Budget? Currently funding the clone rebellion. ISB 401ks? Being used to pay someone to "retrieve" (read: kidnap) Crosshair from Rampart. Cad Bane's baby-stealing revenue? Currently outfitting the Marauder with gold plating. My point: WHY ISN'T TECH HACKING STAR WARS ATMs Story would have been over six episodes in. Tech would have foreclosed on the Palace; the Death Star would have fallen prey to insurance fraud; Omega would have grown up with more gowns than Padme. The Banking Clan bows to their new and, uh, eccentric overlords. Wrecker has thirteen new Z-6 cannons. Echo has thirteen natborn employees and is thoroughly enjoying himself. Hunter took an actual shower (still didn't get a new bandana). The Empire is turning over the empty coffers and shaking them out, wondering if they have rats. Mas Amedda is standing on street corners with an upturned hat. Crosshair is happily occupied with suing the Kaminoans for emotional damages. The end

[a-killer-obsession]

Wavelengths [Killer x Reader, Heat x Reader]

🔞 Minors DNI 🔞

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

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

Masterlist || AO3 || Chapter 1

Chapter 30 - A Shock to the System

Nothing like marines and stupid people to ruin a girl's good mood.

WC: ~4k

Taglist: @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @tremendoushorsepatrolgoth @iggy5055

“MARINE SHIP, GET OF YOUR A- hang on, what the fuck is happening in here?” Kid went from roaring his warning to leaning against the door frame with a smug look on his face. You pushed Heat away and pulled your skirt down before Kid could spend any more time checking out your bare ass, shuffling indignantly off the bed to find your discarded panties. Heat and Killer exchanged annoyed, disappointed groans as they tucked themselves back in and tidied their clothes.

“Nothing is happening, captain,” you muttered, sliding your panties on and grabbing your mask, “because like always, those marine cunts had to go and ruin it. I'm gonna fucking sink their ship.”

“Be my guest, sweetheart,” Kid laughed as you slid past him into the hall, followed closely by Killer and Heat. You didn't even bother to go find your weapons, you'd just use your devil fruit for this one. “We need their eternal pose for the base first though, but once we have it you can feed them to the seakings”

He watched you stomp away down the hall, more than mad that your fun had been ruined, followed by two equally grumpy, half-hard men. He followed Killer as he started to make his way down the hall behind you, more than curious, and a little annoyed, at what he’d walked in on.

“What gives Kil?” Kid groaned as he followed him out to the deck, Killer loading the blades on his punishers, “You share with Heat but not your best friend?”

“You haven't exactly been acting like my friend the last few days, Kid,” Killer replied coldly. “Or been kind to her. I thought you'd be happy for me, but instead you screamed in both of our faces, and haven't bothered to talk to either of us since. And by the way, the door was locked for a reason, you can’t just use your fruit to come busting in whenever the fuck you feel like it”

Heat made himself sparse, not wanting anything to do with the can of worms Killer was opening, opting to follow you instead to bark orders at the newbies. You hadn't had a chance yet to ask the girls what their fighting capabilities were, so you were more than anxious to find out now.

“Kil..” Kid scratched the back of his head as he followed behind the first mate, idly using his fruit to send cannonballs back at the marine ship but not really paying attention. “Can we talk about this? I didn't mean to blow up at you like that yesterday”

“Does now really seem like the time to talk?” Killer pointed at the oncoming marine ship which was almost close enough to board. “Do you even give a shit? Or are you just jealous that I let Heat fuck my girl and not you?”

“Come on man it's not like that…” Kid was following Killer like a puppy as he jumped to the marine ship, activating his punishers and mowing down enemies. “You know how I over react to shit, can we just t-” Killer turned on his heel and sliced the head off a marine who had come inches away from driving his sword through Kid's shoulder. The captain blinked in confusion as the body fell to the ground in front of him, wetting his shoe with blood.

“Can you fucking pay attention?” Killer barked at him before running off to kill more marines, more than sick of this conversation. Kid sighed and grabbed the closest enemy, crushing his skull in his hand. It didn't feel anywhere near as satisfying as it usually did.

Meanwhile, completely oblivious to the argument Kid and Killer were having, you'd gathered the newbies with Heat and were preparing them for their first battle. Heat took charge of the men, while you took care of your assigned wards, the girls. You were pleased to see Hip was brandishing two swords, swinging them in well practised circles to warm up her wrists as she waited for your orders. Dive was rubbing the sides of her face, working out the muscles in her jaw and stretching it open, chomping her sharp teeth together, more than eager to chew on some marines. Quincy stood awkwardly between them, with empty hands and an away with the fairies look on her face, and you sighed deeply that you had to deal with this instead of getting your brains fucked out.

“Quincy, where is your weapon?” You crossed your arms in clear annoyance, “You do have one, don't you? Do you know how to fight?”

“Mmm… oh, yes… my weapon, I have it!” the girl seemed like she had moths for brains, and occasionally one would smack against the flickering lightbulb in her skull allowing for a coherent thought. “Sorry, I didn't know what the bell meant”

You pinched the bridge of your nose and pointed at the marine ship, “Do you think maybe you know what it means now?”

“Mm?” Quincy replied with a slightly tilted head, looking at the ship but clearly not making a connection, “Marines are nice, aren't they?”

You had to laugh, truly, full belly laugh. Dive and Hip were laughing too at Quincy's expense. “Quince, you know we're pirates right? Marines hate pirates. Did you think they were firing cannonballs at us for fun?” Hip explained.

“Oh! Right! Of course!” She hummed, still not making any move to show her weapon.

“Your weapon, Quincy,” you groaned as the marine ship got close enough to almost board, “for the love of Nika where the fuck is your weapon”

“Oh, right here!” She smiled, unfastening the belt of large colourful beads that hung around her waist. She gave the belt a strong flick, as one would a whip, and the balls lit up, small sparks of electricity cracking around them. “Weapon, check!” she smiled.

You breathed a sigh of relief, and were honestly surprised at her chosen weapon. You weren't sure you'd ever seen something like it before. You'd describe it as a ball and chain, but it had multiple balls, and would probably electrocute anyone who touched it. It was like a big, spicy candy necklace. Now that you were sure all three girls were ready to fight you could finally give your orders, right in the nick of time as others started jumping to the marine ship.

“We want to see what the three of you can do, so don't hold back,” you started, “but keep your wits about you, either stay on the Victoria, or be ready to clear out when the order is given. Nobody is coming to fish you out of the drink if you're dumb enough to still be on their ship when I sink it. Now go show them what girls can do”

The three girls cheered and immediately took off towards the enemy, and you had to laugh as Dive immediately launched herself at a marine and he screamed for mercy as she tore his throat out. She looked back at you and gave you a smile and a thumbs up, blood dripping from her sharp toothy grin. You gave her a more than enthusiastic thumbs up back. She moved like a rabid animal, barely touching the ground as she jumped between marines, using the momentum of their falling bodies to fling herself to the next victim of her sharp teeth.

Hip was a graceful fighter, as you had expected. She was fast, perhaps even comparable to Killer, taking advantage of both of her swords to take down multiple enemies at once. Much like Killer as well, she kept low as she ran, and was very light on her feet. You were really starting to wonder if the two of them could be related. She had no trouble cutting down the enemy and had a good sense of her surroundings, easily dodging attacks and readjusting her stance to reply with her own.

Quincy on the other hand was clumsy and slow, but seemed to have a surprising strength to her as she swung her chain of electrified balls around. She was easily taking out rows of three or four men at a time with the length of the chain, but she was slow to move along to the next set, and several times had to have her ass saved by Hip, Dive or yourself. She was definitely going to need some work. You were glad at least to see that the other two girls were holding their own.

You were a woman on a mission, wanting to find the pose as quickly as possible so you could sink this fucking ship and get back to your fun. You didn’t stop as you threaded your way through marines, bodies dropping around you as their hearts exploded whenever they dared to get close enough to you. You made your way into the heart of the ship, using your recently discovered ability to melt walls to get quick glimpses in each room by making small, eye heigh holes, ignoring any room that didn’t look like it would hold a pose and surprising hidden occupants. Hip followed you into the bowels of the ship, finding a room full of snivelling, cowardly marines through one of your peep holes and immediately setting to work cutting them down. Finally you found what seemed to be their navigation room, or maybe their commander’s office, and started rifling through the cabin. You found a safe hidden behind a painting and used your fruit to move the pins into place to unlock it. Inside you found what you were looking for, an eternal pose set to the nearby base, as well as a couple of maps that would be useful for planning the raid and a very nice looking, ornate handgun. Perhaps you could give it to Kid, in the hopes of getting back on his good side. You slid it into the waistband of your skirt, rummaging through the rest of the vault’s contents and grabbing a few important looking journals before heading out. You met Hip on the way, wiping her blade on some poor dead marine’s coat, the room of hiding men now entirely slaughtered. You paused to take note of how many men she’d taken down on her own, nodding in approval with an impressed smirk.

“Go grab the other two and head back to the Vic, and take these,” you shoved the pose and your other finds in her arms, “I’ll go find someone to give the order to clear out.”

Hip gave you an obedient nod to confirm she understood, sheathing one of her swords so she could use one while holding the loot in the other hand. You heard her calling to Dive and Quincy as you appeared back out on deck, scanning the battlefield for another commander and quickly spotting the striped mask of your lover.

“Kil!” you shouted as you ran over to him, taking down a few more marines. He turned to face you, cutting down another marine behind him without even looking, “Got the pose! Get everyone cleared out, I’m going up!” He nodded in response and started barking retreat orders, much to the confusion of the marines who definitely thought they were on the losing side, but began yelling about the pirates being cowards anyway. You began your ascent, moon stepping directly upwards. You made yourself a small platform of vibrating air to rest on as you looked down at the two ships, waiting for the crew to clear off. As the last few Kid Pirate’s returned to the Victoria Punk, Kid used his fruit to push the ships apart, giving enough clearance between the two that the Victoria wouldn’t be damaged in the fallout. The marines were doing their best to shoot at the pirates, but Kid lazily returned the bullets right back at them, while the rest of the crew slaughtered the marines who had been foolish enough to board the Vic. Killer scanned the sky for you, and upon meeting your eyes gave you a thumbs up, You returned it before sending yourself shooting downwards with your usual upside down moon step, flipping halfway to plummet with one extended leg directly towards the centre of the marine ship.

“Meteor Wave, cunts!” you shouted as your foot made contact. For a moment nothing happened, then the entire ship seemed to shudder and cracked right down the centre. You concentrated hard this time to focus your energy in a set line, instead of spreading in an even circle, so you wouldn’t give yourself splinters like last time. It worked a treat, critical system alarms sounding over the marine ship as the survivors screamed and tried to hold on to the sinking halves, slipping and rolling down the deck and into the ocean. You moon stepped back to the Victoria, more than pleased with yourself.

“Nice clean break this time,” Killer noted as you landed elegantly beside him.

“Thanks, I was trying something new,” you smiled, before scanning the deck for your wards. The newbies were all shouting excitedly and showing off, making mock attacks as they recounted the battle to each other. You made your way over, keen to give the girls feedback and praises, as well as scorn Quincy for her lack of spacial awareness.

“Quincy, we need to talk about your- OMPH,” in a prime example of irony, Quincy was showing off her weapon, and didn’t check who was around her before brandishing the chain of brightly coloured balls excitedly, smacking you right in your still healing rib. There was an audible crack, and you began to convulse as the weapon electrocuted you. You had to give it to her, it was fucking effective. You were able to act quick enough to nullify the electricity before it could get lower than your ribcage, but that did little to protect your heart. In your split decision to protect your unborn child, you’d left your own health at risk, and you fell to the ground hard, still convulsing as your upper body cramped and contracted uncontrollably. Quincy screamed and deactivated her weapon far too late and Killer quickly shoved her and the other newbies aside to get to you.

Your heart was running far too fast as your muscles finally started to relax, and you could see Killer’s mouth moving but couldn’t hear anything over the loud, high-pitched whine in your ear, probably from hitting your head as you fell. Your heart was your major problem right now though, so with a shaky hand you pressed a palm against your chest, willing the small electric pulses that usually ran through your nerves to return to the familiar, healthy pattern they should be in. You gasped for air and nearly screamed as you felt your heart stop for a moment, before quickly returning back to its usual smooth rhythm. You let yourself ragdoll as Killer picked you up, vaguely noting the flash of red hair and concerned frown on your captain before closing your tired eyes.

Everything hurt. Your ribs, your skin where the weapon had made contact, your muscles, which all felt like you’d been wrung out like a wet towel. It hurt to breathe and despite your heart being in a normal rhythm now, it was hard to take a deep breath with the sharp ache in your chest. Every step Killer took jostled you and sent a sharp ache through your upper body, and your head throbbed more and more as sound slowly came back to you. Your chest felt like it was on fire, and your clothes pulled funny against your skin every time you got shifted. You could faintly smell burnt flesh, and it only added to your nausea. You could rest easy that no damage had been done to your lower body, but you wondered if you’d inadvertently concentrated the shock in your upper body by not letting it spread. Though for some reason there was a sharp pain in one of your thighs, and the vague feeling of liquid sliding over your skin, and you wondered if you’d landed on something pointy. If you'd been smarter, or stronger, you would have protected your whole self from the electricity, but you were tired from taking down the marine ship. Whenever you tried to open your eyes you felt dizzy and nauseous, no doubt from the lingering effects of your heart stopping. You head felt like it was in a vice and you would have gagged if it didn't hurt so damn much to move.

You vaguely registered the change in scenery as you were placed on a flat surface, no doubt in the infirmary judging by the blinding lighting above you. Killer's striped mask was replaced by the Doc's orange mohawk, and a small sting in your inner elbow indicated the insertion of an IV line. Slowly the lights became less blinding and the nausea faded as whatever Mohawk had given you started to kick in, but you still felt unbearably tired.

“Uh, no sleeping girlie,” you vaguely made out Mohawk's words as he applied small smacks to the side of your face, not enough to hurt but enough to ground you. Something else was added to your IV and the murkiness of fatigue faded a little, enough to attempt to sit yourself up. Killer was behind you in a flash, supporting your shoulders to help keep you from flopping back down, which you definitely would have done without him holding you.

You could see now that the pain in your leg was caused by a wound, which was bleeding profusely as Mohawk attempted to slow it. You blinked in confusion at the hole, with no idea how that had happened. The light-headedness returned and everything went dark for a moment, your eyes opening again to find yourself flat on the bed once more, Killer's unmasked face looking down at you, a concerned scowl on his face. There was the occasional flash of red in your peripheral, always followed by Killer barking in its direction. You closed your eyes again and fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

Your eyes opened slowly, your eyelids actively fighting your orders to move, the light burning your retinas and forcing you to squint. Someone had definitely removed your mask, and you wished you still had it on to shield you from a little of the bright overhead lights. You slowly became aware of your body, but it didn't hurt as bad as you expected it to - Mohawk no doubt had you pumped full of strong painkillers. There was a rhythmic beep nearby, and a faint snoring beside you. You turned your head towards the sound, finding Killer sleeping silently in a chair, his arms crossed and his unmasked head lolled back. But more surprisingly, Kid was asleep on the floor next to him, the captain's head resting on Killer's thigh as he snored. You wondered if they'd come to an understanding, or if Kid had just forced Killer to let him stay.

You sat up slowly, on one part because you weren't sure of the damage done to your body, and on the other because you didn't want to wake the sleeping duo. They looked kinda cute like that to be honest, and you were pretty sure it was the first time in days that they'd been in the same room without arguing. You had no idea how much time had passed while you were out cold, there weren't any windows in the infirmary so you couldn't see if it was dark out or not, but you must have been out for a while for Killer to have fallen asleep. Your head was still a little funny, but it didn't feel anywhere near as bad as before, and you only felt like vomiting a tiny bit. Now that you were sitting up you could see the extent of the damage, lifting the thin blanket to find you were only wearing your underwear. There was a bandage around your torso, covering your breasts, and another around your right thigh, a small spot of dried blood staining it. The bandage around your chest felt like it was sticking to you, and you wondered if the electricity had burned your skin. The thigh injury was a mystery though, you couldn't wrap your head around how that had happened.

Your arms felt stiff, no doubt from the overuse of muscles during convulsions, and you saw that the IV now included an almost empty bag of blood. Suddenly remembering your passenger you flipped your seastone bracelet, using your enhanced vision to examine your own abdomen. Inside it you could see the protective fluid filled sac of your womb, and within it your little jellybean, with its own teeny tiny heart beating without a care in the world. You'd never even considered looking at it before, it was strange to see it in the flesh instead of just a grainy white dot on a screen, somehow it made it all the more real and a little scarier. You let out a heavy sigh and flipped your bracelet back, laying back down on the bed.

Your small sigh was enough to alert Killer that you were awake, and his head shot up to look at you, before back down at the weight on his thigh with a raised brow. You snorted at his confusion, he seemed just as surprised as you had been to see Kid there. He gave Kid an unceremonious shove, and the captain woke up with a grumble before quickly standing and rubbing his eyes with the palm of his flesh hand. Killer tutted and made his way to your side, taking your hand in his, while his other hand rested on your belly.

“Baby is fine,” you assured him, putting your hand over his, “I just checked”

“How do you feel?” He asked, rubbing the back of your hand with his thumb.

“Like fucking garbage,” you groaned as Killer helped you sit up, “but it doesn't hurt too bad in retrospect. What the fuck happened to my leg though?”

Kid stomped over and placed something on your legs over the blanket. The fucking gun you'd taken from the safe. You'd completely forgotten about it, the electricity must have been enough of a spark to set it off while it was tucked into your waistband. You groaned and rolled your eyes, just your fucking luck, you try to do something nice and you get shot in the fucking leg.

“Why did you have a gun on you?” Kid asked curiously.

“I thought you might like it,” you mumbled, “I think the better question here is who leaves a loaded gun in their safe. It's not like they were planning to use it, they had plenty of other weapons”

“You got this from a safe?” Kid picked it up and inspected it closer, making an amused huff. “It's pretty nice, well made by the looks of it, wonder what makes it special enough to keep it in a safe. I'll have to do some research”

“Stupid fucking thing better be worth something,” you grumbled as you picked at the bandages on your chest, trying to look under them. Killer stilled your hands before you could get a good look.

“Your chest is burnt pretty bad,” he explained, “the electricity blistered your skin. Mohawk said it's not muscle deep though, more like a severe sunburn”

You groaned and flopped down on the bed, covering your face with your hands. “Can't I just have one fucking week where I don't end up in a doctor's office?”

“Tell me about it,” Kid scoffed. You shot back up and stared daggers at him.

“Oh you can fucking talk,” you pointed an accusing finger at him, “its your fucking floozy who did this. Did you even check if she could fight before bringing her on board, or were you too busy getting your dick wet? She'd be dead ten times over if it wasn't for the rest of us covering her back today, and now look what's fucking happened. We weren't even in battle anymore! She has no fucking sense of self preservation or awareness of her surroundings! And frankly, she's about as fucking smart as a slice of moldy cheese, in fact I think the mold would have more coherent thoughts!”

“She said she could fight…” Kid mumbled, looking away like a child scorned.

“Well she can certainly fucking cause bodily harm!” You yelled at him, “and if it wasn't for my devil fruit my unborn child would be fucking dead because of her, not that you'd fucking care! When I said I could protect myself I didn't think it would have to be against your fucking whore!”

Kid stood tall and growled, but you stood your ground, staring him down with an equally dangerous look on your face. The machine that had been monitoring your heart suddenly started making an alarm, and Mohawk came rushing in on hearing it. He'd been outside, on his way in to check on you but hesitant to enter and get caught in the crossfire of the argument. Your breaths were coming in harsh and ragged as your heart raced, one fist clawing at your chest as you struggled to catch enough air. Killer urged you to lay down while Mohawk checked the machine and injected something into your IV line, the machine's alarm stopping as your heart rate came down and your breathing returned to normal.

“Kid, I think it'd be best if you leave,” Killer said flatly, not even bothering to look in the red head's direction. Kid grumbled to himself, sliding the gun you'd looted back into his belt and making for the door. He paused with his hand on it, the door half open.

“For what it's worth,” he sighed to himself, “I do care about your kid, even if you don't believe it.” And with that he left, not waiting for a reply, the door swinging on its two way hinges behind him.

[NEXT CHAPTER]