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alwaysachorusgirl · 3 years

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Of Wolves and Witches

Pairing: Werewolf!Bishop Losa x Witch!Reader

Word Count: 3088

For: covers the monster square for @adarafaelbarba 's moodboard fall bingo

TW: violence and accidental death via a nightmare/flashback sequence, brief mentions of mental, emotion, and physical abuse, PTSD, and covering up a crime scene

Author's Notes: The Mayans Werewolf AU that no one asked for, but i wrote it anyway. It starts out dark, but ends with fluff, I promise. This is my first time writing for Bishop, so please go easy on me... a big thank you to @itsjustmyfantasyroom for letting me run this idea by her and reassuring me that it wasn't crazy, and for encouraging me to write it.

Tags: @madamsnape921; @prurientpuddlejumper; @thatesqcrush; @welcometothemxdhouse; @raulesparza4eva; @teamsladsandgents; @rosequcrtz

He stormed into your living room, rage storming in his eyes. His aura was a swirling void of red and black. He shouldn’t have been able to break the locks on your front door, he shouldn’t have been able to walk right through your magical wards, but here he was. You straightened your posture and stood your ground, determined to not let him see how terrified you were.

“How did you get in here?”

“Really?” He pulled a glowing amulet from out of his shirt. “Not that hard when you have a little help. Benefits of having hunters for friends.”

Your eyes went wide as you realized what you were looking at. It was an enchanted amulet, one strong enough to get through your warding. You could only hope that it wasn’t strong enough to dampen your powers.

“Yeah, that’s right,” he smirked. “I know what you are. Makes me a wonder what else you haven’t been telling me.”

“Alex, get out! I don’t want to hurt you, but I will if I have to.”

“You little bitch!” he spat back. “You think you can just break up me? You think you can just walk away?

“I can and I did. We’re done, Alex, it’s over. You don’t get to hurt me anymore. It’s not my fault that your fragile, insecure male ego can’t take a fucking hint.”

“Bitch, I’ll fucking hurt you whenever I fucking want to! And I don’t see your little biker friends here to protect you.…”

Then he charged, and suddenly you were on the ground with his hands around your throat.

“Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live!”

You could feel the murderous intent radiating off him, and put your hands on his chest, trying to push him off you, but then you felt the release of kinetic energy through your palms, and Alex was flying across the room. He hit the wall, and you prayed to whatever goddess was listening that the sickening crack you heard was just the drywall breaking behind him. But then his eyes rolled back in his head, and his head lolled to one side, at what could only be described as an “unhealthy looking” angle. His lower body twitched a few times before going limp. He hung there for a moment, suspended in the air, pinned to the wall by your invisible force. Still shaking in terror, you finally lowered your hands, and Alex’s lifeless body fell to the ground with a thud.

*********************

“No!” you cried out, sitting bolt upright on your couch. You were covered in a cold sweat and your whole body was shaking. Your lungs gasped for air and your eyes darted around the room, searching for Alex, but he wasn’t there. You weren’t even in your old house anymore. You held your hand in your hands and took deep breaths. You were in your apartment, in Santo Padre, Alex was dead, and you were safe. The Saturday afternoon sun streamed in through the window, and the TV was still on, a marathon of Guy’s Grocery Games playing at a low volume.

“I must have fallen asleep,” you said softly to yourself, “it was only a nightmare.”

You grabbed your phone off the coffee table and checked the time. It was only 3:30, plenty of time to shower and freshen up before Bishop would pick you up at 6. You stood, and after checking your locks and wards, made your way to the bathroom.

***********************

Despite your best efforts to push them down, the memories of what happened next came flooding back as you stood under the warm shower spray. You had been in shock, understandably so, but you were now exposed as a witch, and had to protect yourself. The logical side of your brain kicked in and you got to work. After verifying that Alex was dead, you had used your telekinetic abilities to rip the amulet off his neck. A quick examination verified that it had only been enchanted enough to allow Alex to breach your magical wards without getting zapped, but not enough to block your own powers. The enchantment was also crude and amateurish, probably done in haste by someone with limited knowledge of witchcraft. He had mentioned having hunters for friends, and you cursed yourself for not sensing that sooner. He hadn’t been one himself. You would have read that in his aura the moment you met him, but you also hadn’t sensed his dark side. The mentally and emotionally abusive and manipulative side, the one that turned violent during an argument when you had tried to call him out on his bullshit and break up with him the first time. You had ended up in the hospital, and when you confronted him the second time, you had friends with you to back you up. And after destroying the amulet, those were the friends you called on for help with your predicament.

The Blood Moon Motorcycle Club was a found family werewolf pack, led by Jack Reynard, a fearsome and intimidating Alpha. But Jack was fiercely protective of his friends and allies and didn’t hesitate to show up with four of his most trusted lieutenants when you called and tearfully explained your situation. They got to work cleaning up the scene and going through Alex’s phone and wallet. They found a business card for an elite and dangerous organization of hunters, and the contact’s name and number on the card matched up with one of the contacts in Alex’s phone. Jack told you to start packing your bags and to make sure that you included any magical artifacts that you had. You would spend the night at their clubhouse under round-the-clock security, and in the morning, they would get you out of town. Anything that couldn’t be packed that night would be shipped to you once you were settled elsewhere. They would dispose of the body; it wasn’t the first time they’d had to do so.

Jack had called Bishop Losa, president of the Mayans Motorcycle Club in Santo Padre, California. Jack and Bishop had served together in the Marines in their younger days, and the Mayans and the Blood Moons were allies as a result of that friendship. The Mayans were another found family werewolf pack and protected Santo Padre alongside the Galindo Pack. The town was a safe haven for all supernatural beings and the humans who lived there were none the wiser.

And now you had been here for six months. You worked in a bookshop owned by another a witch, Matilda, and lived in the apartment above it. In addition to the books, you also sold your homemade herbal teas and did Tarot card readings in the shop. 2-3 times a week you would bake cookies and muffins and sell those in the shop. Your teas were so popular that you now did tea making demonstrations on Saturday mornings. You were thriving but were still plagued by nightmares and PTSD and attended therapy once a week to help you work through your struggles.

And then there was Bishop. At first, the Mayan president and Alpha had been your friend and protector. You had been too traumatized to even think about pursuing a relationship, and so you both denied the unquestionable and inexplicable attraction. The more you got to know each other, the more you were drawn to each other. Two months ago, he finally made a move while the two of you had been outside getting some air at a party at the Mayans clubhouse, asking if he could kiss you. You’d been a couple ever since.

*********************

You had just finished lacing up your boots when you heard the sound of a familiar motorcycle pull up to your building. You ran to the window and looked down to the street. You saw Bishop getting off his bike and removing his helmet. You exited your apartment and ran down the stairs, meeting him at the entrance at the side of the building. You threw your arms around his neck and kissed his lips. His arms encircled your waist and pulled you close.

“Hola Querida, you look beautiful.”

“Thanks, you’re not too bad, yourself, handsome.”

That got a chuckle from the Alpha. He removed one of his arms from around your back, revealing the bouquet of roses in his hand. “These are for you.”

“Bish, they’re gorgeous, thank you. You shouldn’t have.”

“And pass up the opportunity to surprise you? Not a chance.”

“Come on up. I’ll put these in water, grab a few things, then I’ll be ready to go.”

Bishop nodded and held onto your hand as he followed you up the stairs.

************************

You held onto Bishop as the two of you went speeding down the back roads, away from Santo Padre. You loved dates like this: just you and Bishop on the bike, heading somewhere unknown, away from all the stress and bullshit of the day-to-day. His torso felt warm, sturdy, and safe. You could feel the vibrations from bike rattling through your body as you watched the scenery fly by. You’d been on the road for at least half an hour now.

“Almost there, Querida,” Bishop called back. “You’re gonna love this spot, I promise.”

After a few more minutes he pulled off the road and the motorcycle slowed to a stop. Bishop turned off the engine and stored the keys in his pocket. You both got off and removed your helmets. You looked around at the small, wooded area and smiled, breathing in the fresh air.

“This is nice, babe.”

“Oh, this isn’t the spot, “he told you, unlatching the soft fleece blanket and cooler from the back of his bike. He handed you the blanket. He took the cooler in one hand and grabbed your free hand with his other, interlacing his fingers with yours. “It’s this way.”

You walked for a few minutes down a short path before finally arriving at a grassy clearing. The view was breathtaking. You could see everything from your elevated perched; Santo Padre, the valley, green leafy trees swaying in the breeze, fields of wildflowers. A sense of calm settled over you that you hadn’t felt in months. You didn’t jump when Bishop came up behind you and slid his arms around your mid-section, instead relaxing into his touch and leaning against his sturdy frame. Bishop softly kissed your shoulder.

“You okay, baby?”

“Yeah,” you sighed, “this is perfect, this place in perfect. The energy here is so peaceful, and so alive. I love it.”

“I’m glad. I was thinking we could eat dinner, watch the sunset? And wait until the stars come out…You can show me all the constellations?”

You turned and slid your arms around his neck, resting your forehead against his.

“You would have thought that you were such a romantic?”

“Just don’t tell anyone, okay? Gotta maintain my tough guy image, you know?”

“Mmm…your secret is safe with me.” You pecked his lips once, twice, three times, each kiss lasting a bit longer than the rest. When you finally pulled your head away you noticed that the blanket was laid out on the ground with cooler sitting on top.

“Come on,” said Bishop, directing you over to it. You both sat down, and Bishop opened the cooler and started setting out its contents: sandwiches from the local deli, fresh strawberries from the farmer’s market, giant cupcakes from the gourmet bakery, a bottle of beer for each of you, and bottled water. He popped the caps off the beer bottles and handed you one. “Cheers.”

The two of you sat and ate, completely at ease with each other, and the conversation flowed easily. Bishop told you about the day’s antics down at the scrapyard, and you told him about the business plan you and Matilda were working on to expand the bookshop into the empty café next door.

“The theory is, that having a space to sell food and drinks will drum up more business. I can sell my tea and baked goods and do my demonstrations there. We would obviously need to hire some extra people to help, but I think we can make it work. We can’t tear down the wall between the buildings and expand without the proper permits.”

“I’m sure the town will approve whatever permits you need. They’re not going to say to ‘no’ to something that will bring more business into Santo Padre.”

“Wow, you weren’t kidding about the sunsets,” you said, gazing at the red, orange, and purple hues of the evening sky. “How did you find this place?”

Bishop laid down on the blanket and you stretched out next him, placing your head on his chest.

“Me and the guys had just come back from a run,” he began, “Things didn’t go so well, and I was pissed, needed to blow off some steam so I just rode around for a while. Next thing I knew, I was here. I shifted, ran around for a while until my head was clear. I come back whenever I need to get away from everything.”

You tilted your head up to meet his gaze. “Thank you for bringing me here. I needed this.”

Bishop caressed your cheek with his fingers. “You’re welcome, Querida. I’ll bring you up here whenever you want.”

“Bish, can I ask you a personal question?”

“Of course, Querida, you can ask me anything,” he replied with a chuckle.

“Can I see you in your wolf form sometime? There’s no pressure, only if you want to…”

Bishop mulled the question over in his head. You had caught him off guard with the query. None of the women he’d ever been with had asked to see his wolf form, not even his ex-wife. These days, he only shifted when it was absolutely necessary. There were advantages to being an older and more experienced wolf. He could shift at will and didn’t have to worry about losing control. But what if you didn’t like what you saw? What if he scared you away? He’d never forgive himself if that happened. Your soft, sweet voice interrupted his thoughts.

“Bish, I’m sorry, forget I said anything- “

“No, it’s okay,” he kissed your forehead, “I just wasn’t expecting that question. I’ll do it if you want me to, but just be prepared, okay? I promise I won’t hurt you, but it might not be what you’re expecting.”

“I trust you completely, and I promise, I won’t be scared.” You looked at his aura and saw the hesitancy there. He was scared. “You’re not going to lose me.”

He cupped your face with his hand and his lips found purchase with yours. He had a way of kissing you that made your mind go blank and get lost in the moment, and you loved every minute of it. You kissed him back with equal fervor, hoping that somehow you were able to convey the trust and faith you had in him. The smile on his face when you broke away seemed to indicate that you’d been successful.

Bishop rose and walked a few feet away.

“What are you doing?” you asked, confused by his actions.

“Shifting is a lot easier without clothes on,” he replied with a wink, beginning to undress.

“I’ll close my eyes and give you some privacy then,” you giggled, shutting your eyes, but occasionally cracking one open to steal glimpses of his increasingly naked form; and damn if you didn’t like what you saw!

Bishop finished disrobing and crouched down on the soft grass. He breathed deeply and cleared his mind, focusing his intention. He felt his muscle start to ripple and his joints and bones shift. It didn’t hurt at his age; it was just slightly uncomfortable. All his senses sharpened. Body hair became fur, his hands and feet morphed into oversize paws with razor sharp claws. Even his teeth changed shaped, becoming longer and more pointed. A few moments later, he stretched and shook out his fur. He looked over towards you, still sitting there with your eyes closed, and cautiously padded toward you.

************************

You could hear the footfalls of his paws, and then felt his large wet nose nudging your arm. You opened your eyes and saw a massive wolf standing before you. His fur was brown and black, with specks of gray in various places. His legs were strong, and his paws appeared large enough to take out a person with one blow. But his eyes, his eyes were gentle, and you would know them anywhere.

“Oh, Bishop, you’re beautiful!”

He sat and cocked his head to one side, appearing confused.

“Yes, you heard me correctly. May I?” You held out your arms to him. Bishop bowed his head and leaned forward, allowing you to embrace him and bury your face in his fur. “Your fur is so soft!”

He put his head on your shoulder and let out a contented groan when your fingers began to massage the spot right between his ears. You giggled at that. “I take it you like that, huh?” Bishop lifted his head and licked your face in response, making you laugh even harder. You massaged his head for a little while longer before resting your forehead against his. “Thank you for letting me see you like this. I love you, Bishop.”

There was suddenly a very naked, human man in your arms. Bishop’s hands cupped your face, his eyes scanning it for any indication that he might have misheard you.

“Bish- “

“Say that again, Querida.”

“I said, I love you, Obispo Losa.”

Bishop pulled you into his lap and pressed his lips to yours, kissing you with more intensity and tenderness than he ever had before. Any doubts that you may have had about him not feeling the same quickly melted away. It went on for what felt like forever before the two of you had to pull away and come up for air.

“I love you, too, mi reina.”

You held onto one another like that for while before Bishop got dressed and rejoined you on the blanket. You spent the rest of the evening wrapped in each other’s arms and gazing at the night sky. And when a shooting star passed overhead, you made a wish that you could stay this way forever. No more looking over your shoulder, no more nightmares; just you and Bishop, ready to take on whatever the future might hold.

#adarafaelbarbaseptmeberbingo #bishop losa x reader #bishop losa #mayans #mayans mc #mayans fandom #mayans fanfic #bishop losa imagines #werewolf au #my writing

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greenygreenland · 3 years

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The Floor Is Lava: (Platonic) 501st x Jedi Reader

-saw something about the floor is lava and imagined this in my head at like 3am

-note, you are a jedi padawan of shaak ti’s with your own squad (who are actually my ocs lol). They are called the Nebula Squad (the squad is actually from Wannabe, another one of my Star Wars fanfics)

-basically, you are someone who acts alone (without your master) and goes on special ops missions. you team up with anakin a lot

-CAN BE READ WITHOUT HAVING TO READ WANNABE

Summary: The floor is lava.

Spring came early. Too early. Maybe it was the fact that this planet had short winters, or the fact that you just weren't used to the warm breezes and scorching heat. After being stationed on Hoth for a good two weeks, you adjusted to the climate. With that came the curse of low heat tolerance.

"I'm going to die." you grumbled.

Your mission was in the more civilised (that was how one of your boys put it) regions of the planet. For some strange reason only the Force knew, your ship broke down in the worst place: a deserted village. Why was this the worst place? Because there was no way you could repair a broken ship without spare parts.

And where were spare parts located? In the city you were supposed to land in. Great, just great.

“(Y/n), can’t we contact General Skywalker for assistance?” inquired Nova. “We are supposed to RV with them anyway.”

Nova was your friend and assigned clone Commander. He, like you, had a knack for getting into sticky situations. Usually he was the one with the plan B, not you. “I can ask Grav and Nimbus if they can get a signal out over there.” He pointed to the mountain on your right. It was tall with a jagged top, where thick forests of luscious greenery sprouted out all over.

Yeah, good luck getting through that.

“You mean to tell me there’s no signal here?” you inquired. “Just how remote is this place?” Even with that bucket over Nova’s face, you knew he was frowning and holding back a long sigh. “Intel said--”

“Intel’s always wrong.” cut in a voice. You peered over Nova’s broad shoulders and met gazes with another member of your squad, Icee. He was just as tall as Nova, sporting the Squad’s signature purple stripes and it’s logo--a nebula. Over his shoulder, he held tight to a sniper rifle. The thing was a beauty, as well as his baby.

“The three things you can never trust are the weather forecast, the canteen menu, and intel. Plain and simple, vode.” Icee added. You shook your head, swatting a few mosquitoes away with a wave of your hand. “If that big ‘ol mountain is the only place we can get a signal from, then I say we go. All of us.”

Nova nodded in agreement. He shouldered his pack, adjusted a few straps on his kama and weapons, and motioned for the rest of the squad to move out. “Is there anything we should know about the wildlife here?” he inquired. “My HUD’s picking up the usual birds and rascals. I’d rather not risk it though. Remember Felucia?”

A shiver ran down your spine at the mention of that jungle-hell. Everywhere you walked lay a deadly plant in need of its next meal. They snuck up on you too, striking out of nowhere like the silence of night. Your number one rule there was not to touch anything.

“There are a few carnivorous plants south of here,” answered Nimbus. “Besides that, all we have to worry about are the birds.” You admired the way he was able to brief everyone so quickly. The only other clone you’ve met with such a well of info was Tech, a member of Clone Force 99.

“What do the birds look like?” you inquired. Nimbus scrunched up his face under that bucket of his. “I don’t think you wanna know.” Grav squinted at the screen and pushed his brother’s head with the back of his hand. It wasn’t enough to hurt him, but you sensed a lingering annoyance in the air after.

“What, you scared of some little bird Nimbus?“ he teased. Nimbus wordlessly flipped over his datapad for everyone to see. The screen displayed a large bird-like creature with long fangs covered in drool. Its eyes were beady and bloodthirsty, as if it wanted you to be its next meal.

Nimbus scanned over the heading. “This is a...uh...Kah-rah...Kahl-ram-dah-lahm-dahl...?”

“Kara’dalamb’da.” corrected Storm. He pulled off his helmet, the low ponytail of his fanning out in the warm breezes. “I’ve read about them once. They’re not the type of creatures I’d want to run into. They drag you to their caves, pull you apart limb, and then chew you alive. The worst part is that they don’t eat you.”

Nimbus knitted his brows together. “So we’re like chewing gum to them?”

“Exactly.” Storm affirmed. “They come out at night time, then stay around till dawn before hiding in their caves.” Icee blanched and you couldn’t blame him. You were all heading towards the mountains, where plenty of caves and labyrinths lay. There were probably tons of those Kara-whatevers waiting for their dinner.

You folded your hands together with a tight frown. “Is there another way of getting a signal to Anakin?” George shook his head sadly. You sensed an overwhelming amount of resignation rolling off his shoulders. “No. Even if I tried use long-range comms, it wouldn’t work. There’s too much interfering with the signal.”

There was a chance you could telepathically contact Anakin. He’d answer in an instant and personally come to find you. But that would drain your energy. Your boys needed you more than you needed to contact Ani. If you became dead-weight then it would compromise the mission.

“Alright,” you decided. “We have twelve hours to scale that mountain and hurry our shebs to the ship. If we don’t make it back in time, consider ourselves toast.”

You wished you’d consider yourself toast from the start. If that were the case, then you wouldn’t be running for your life. The mission up was a success. You managed to reach the highest point on the mountain in less than eight hours by ways of a local trail (Nimbus noted that this was a popular tourist spot in autumn). Then you contacted Rex, who promised to RV at the foot of the mountain.

The way down was a different story.

It was dusk when you made your descend. The moon rose into the sky while the sun shied away, and if it weren’t for the boys and their helmet lamps, you wouldn’t have been able to see a thing. At first, the walk back was completely fine. The boys were in good spirits and you weren’t hungry for (favourite food).

But then it didn’t go well.

It wasn’t your fault that you didn’t see the giant jaws of death looming over you, or Nimbus, who started arguing with Grav. Again. It also wasn’t you fault that George so happened to trip over a rock and slam into Sapnap, who tried breaking his fall by grabbing onto Halo’s arm. The three went down together, and with the heavy clanking of katarn-class armour, you were sure the whole animal kingdom heard the show.

And that was how the Nebula Squad found themselves in this mess, fleeing from the horrifying Kara’dalamb’da.

“This is your fault Grav!” cried Nimbus. They bumped heads and it took all your willpower not to join the screaming match. “Shut up,” replied Grav. “You were the one who started it!” Nimbus gritted his teeth. “You who else started this?” he seethed. “Them!” He pointed over his shoulder at Halo, George, and Sapnap. They were the ones who had fallen, after all. Why else did the beast wake up?

“It wasn’t my fault!” cried George. Sapnap scoffed and it was lost to the screech of the oversized bird above. “No one said it was your fault anyway! You just have a guilty conscious!”

You eyed the bird with a sharp scowl. It flew higher, into the haunting light of the moon and across the stars. It gave a great screech again. You covered your ears as a shiver ran down your spine. “Is there any place we can hide from that thing? I’m pretty sure it can smell us from klicks away!”

“That’s correct Commander!” Nimbus congratulated. By the light aura around his shoulders, you guessed him and Grav already made up. They always had petty arguments anyway. “The Kara’dalamb’da has an incredible sense of smell and a wingspan of about ten meters! That’s pretty cool.”

Storm stared at his brother in bewilderment. “How is that cool?” he demanded. “You want to be chop suey for that thing? Be my guest.” Halo laughed a little. You knew he was doing it to shake off his nerves. “Why’d you have to go on and say that? Now I’m going to start singing.”

You scanned the forest. For miles, it seemed to be only forest, wildlife, and bare nature. A flicker of...something cut through your senses. Calculating, at the ready, and deadly. You paused in your step, Storm mimicking you. He met your gaze. “You sense it too?”

“Maybe it’s them.”

You heard them before you saw them.

“Blast that bird out of the sky!”

A squad of 501st troops rustled through the trees. They were silent as the night, save for one trooper who decided to whisper-shout a ‘hi’ to your squad. Their formation, lame as it was, worked in their favour. They raised their blaster, lighting up the sky with bright bolts of blue.

“Can we get a rocket launcher over here?”

“Yes, sir!”

The bird dropped out of the sky with a cry, razor-sharp teeth bared and claws at the ready. It was coming closer, diving faster. You pulled out your lightsaber and thumbed it on.

I am one with the Force and the Force is with me.

You heaved in a deep breath and leapt into the moonlight. Your robes fluttered in the wind, and your hair whipped in arc of (hair colour). It was like you had wings. Time slowed and you raised your lightsaber. It came down in a neat slash across the beast’s neck.

You tumbled through the air and met the ground in a roll. The beast fell behind with a loud THUMP!. You turned off your glowing blade and stashed it away on your belt. The adrenaline keeping your nerves hidden away was slowing, and the realisation that you just murdered a beast settled into your mind.

Part of you wished things could have been different. But what choice did you have?

“Commander!” called Nova, stopping by your side. “Are you okay?” You smiled and he heaved out a sigh of relief. “That was some jump, but now look.” He pointed to your dirt-covered robes. It wasn’t a big deal, but to someone like Nova, it was an issue.

“Here.” Nova helped you dust off the robe with a few pats. “That’s better.”

“Oh, it didn’t look bad.” you stated. He folded his arms across his chest. “That’s what you always say (Y/n).” You grinned and bumped shoulders with him. He replied by playfully shaking his head with a sigh.

A familiar boy made his way towards you. Even through the moonlight struggling through the thick canopies, you saw the chipped blue paint. “Rex,” you greeted. “Thanks for the assistance. Although, I wish you toned it down a bit. You made my squad look like a bunch of young fools.” A loud ‘hey’ sounded from your boys, but you elected to ignore it with a grin.

“Your squad did a phenomenal job in staying alive that long.” Rex said with a chuckle. “And besides, you stole the show in the end. The boys had fun watching your display.” You three shared a warm laugh that reminded you of the sun.

Speaking of sun, was it just you or did it get brighter outside? You looked up to gaze at the moon. It still stood high in the sky, just as before. The stars were out too, bright and clear as ever. So why had the temperature risen so quickly? It was at least another eight hours till dawn. That was more than enough time for the moon to stay out.

A scattered cluster of birds flew from out of the trees. Was it just you or was the forest getting really silent? Owls refused to hoot, those kara-whatevers weren’t screeching from their caves, and crickets stopped chirping their calming songs.

“WOAH, WOAH, WOAH!”

“I TOLD YOU IT WAS HERE!”

“I THOUGHT IT WAS IN THE SOUTH!”

You spun around so fast that you could have gotten whiplash. Sapnap, George, and Halo sprinted from out of the thick trees with their helmet lights on the highest setting. You squinted behind them. Something had to be chasing them, otherwise they wouldn’t be sprinting like track stars.

But you didn’t see any deadly animals, nor did you sense them. All that was left was an...

...an eerie silence.

You thought back to the briefing. Back to the meeting you nearly fell asleep in. If it weren’t for Icee kicking your feet every now and then, then you would have passed out completely.

“On this outer rim planet, I suggest you be careful,” Obi-wan had said. “The locals reported the activity of volcanoes erupting unexpectedly. They believe it has to do with an angry spirit plaguing their land, but we’ve found out the Separatists have a hand behind this.”

“Do you know where these volcanoes are, General Kenobi?” inquired Grav. He shook his head. “No, but I’m sure you won’t have to know. The city under siege is our main objective. You will rendezvous with Anakin there.”

Sapnap, George, and Halo motioned for everyone to move. There was a flicker of movement behind them. Fives emerged from the bushes in a frantic sort of panic. “LAVA!” he cried. “THE FLOOR IS LITERALLY LAVA!”

That was all it took for everyone to run. As uncoordinated as the retreat was, having lava behind you wasn’t exactly something anyone could stay calm about. The glowing magma was faster than it was supposed to be, and you had a feeling it was because it had a nice flow coming out of the planet’s core.

“Talk about an intense game of ‘the floor is lava’!” Hardcase shouted with a laugh. Jesse ‘pffted’. “I thought being chased by lava would be worse! This isn’t nearly as bad as last mission!”

Last mission? Oh, what was Ani doing to these poor souls? Your shoulders slumped in defeat. They were so nonchalant. How? Burning to death in lava was said to be the most painful death, and you’d rather not be Gollum in his last moments on Mount Doom.

“Why don’t you turn that frown upside down?” inquired Fives. You hadn’t even realised he’d caught up with you. “What are you talking about?”

“It’s just a bit of lava!”

You threw a hand over your shoulder and pointed to the glowing, hot mass. It burned through everything it touched. A fire was beginning to catch too, and all the smoke and ash from it wasn’t doing you any good. “Just a bit of lava? Well how would you feel running into that?”

“I don’t know!” he retorted. “Never tried it!”

“If you did, then you’d be dead!” Kix shouted. You face-palmed. “That’s a bit of a no-brainer!” Fives pulled off his helmet. The grin smacked upon his lips didn’t leave. “Who’s up for a round of ‘the floor is lava’?”

“Me!” said Jesse.

“And me!” added Hardcase.

“You guys need to cool it.” Kix said. “But don’t leave me out, I want to play too.”

You let out a long sigh. The 501st may have saved your skin today, but tomorrow? They’d probably get you killed.

TIP JAR <--- (if you’re feeling nice)

#star wars #star wars the clone wars #star wars x reader #star wars the clone wars x reader #501st legion #Clone Troopers #clone trooper rex #clone trooper fives #clone trooper kix #clone ocs

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queenofnohr · 3 years

Text

Twisted Wonderland: Idia Shroud Scary Outfit (R) - Voice Lines + Personal Story

Voice Lines

Summoning Line: Th- th- there are some events even I look forward to…… Is there something wrong with that!? Groovy: Once you see what’s under this helmet, you will never know peace again…… Fuhihihi! Set Home: Wah hah hah! Here comes the Pumpkin Knight~! Home Idle 1: Every time I told Ortho, “Trick or Treat!” he gave me cheap candy, then got mad when I tricked him anyway. Home Idle 2: Events can only be enjoyed if you mind your manners. That rule holds true in every world. Home Idle 3: This is the time of year where every social game has a big event going on, so not having enough time in a day is overwhelmingly apparent…… Home Login: Fuhihi…… Happy Halloween. Huh? What’s with that face? Is it really so strange to see me excited about something? Home Tap 1: Being able to hide my face with the helmet is such a relief…… But it’s a little hard to breathe with it on. Home Tap 2: Wh- What are you going to dress up as……? There’s no way you’d be satisfied with just putting on a headband or hat and calling it a day, right? Home Tap 3: Lions are supposed to be members of the cat family, but Leona isn’t soothing at all like them. *sigh*, I wanna bury my face in a cat’s fur. Home Tap 4: I can guarantee it. Otaku who hate Halloween…… Don’t exist! Home Tap 5: Fuhihi…… The armor is quite durable since it was made with a 3D printer. How much did it cost to make? If you care about that sorta stuff, you’ll lose.

Personal Story: I’ve Done a Good Job~

-Ignihyde Dorm-

Idia: I finally completed my Pumpkin Knight costume~!! *sigh*...... It was so hard to balance doing limited-time events in online games and making my costume…… The amount of times I ended up watching the whole movie even though I only meant to check the costume’s accuracy is too many to count. But what else did I expect from “Pumpkin Hollow?” It’s a masterpiece among all of horror movie history. Mysterious incidents that happen one after another in a peaceful village surrounded by fog. Villagers found with their forms completely changed. And then the culprit, the Pumpkin Knight who has a pumpkin for a head, confronts the two investigators dispatched to uncover the truth surrounding the incidents! Not to mention the complete lack of CGI in this day and age due to the director’s enthusiasm and commitment to making full use of various practical effects, and of course, who could forget the totally unexpected and outrageous plot twist of the investigators quitting their jobs and becoming pumpkin farmers after being charmed by the cursed pumpkin! You can only get this stuff from B-grade horror!! I totally understand its deep-rooted popularity with hardcore fans. I also handcrafted all the costume parts from scratch to give the original my utmost respect. Taking into consideration the need to march in a parade, the helmet and armor were made with highly-durable yet ultra-light polyurethane. The vines affixed to the base of the armor are made from highly flexible silicon. It makes for a realistic reproduction of vines’ natural curves and volume. Now then, not being able to move, or the whole thing falling apart pathetically…… those are catastrophes I’d like to avoid at all costs. I’ll put the cursed pumpkin on my head…… there we go. Alright, all ready to take a test run outside. There seem to be lots of people on campus, but…… I wonder if that place will be okay?

-Woods Behind Campus-

Idia: The elbows have sufficient mobility, and there are no problems with the strength of the joints either. Hmmm, it’s actually really comfortable to wear! As expected of me, I’ve done a good job~. (However, the head parts need adjustment. Visibility is poor because my top priority was making it look like it was hollow.) (I wonder if I could put a small camera at the top of the helmet and run the feed to view on a head mounted display……) *mutter mutter*……

Crash!

Idia: Uwah……!? Ouch…… Did I trip on something? It’s difficult to see near my feet, so I’ll have to make improvements to that, too…… Leona: You bastard, get off of my stomach, now! You’ve got some nerve to use me as a rug. Idia: Eek, that’s Leona’s voice! S-s-s- sorry, I didn’t think there’d be anyone around! I’ll get out of your sight immediately, so……

Clang, clang...

Leona: Ow! Oi, don’t move so suddenly, Pumpkin-boy! You’re gonna rip my tail off! Idia: Eh, your tail!? This is bad, I can’t see anything with the pumpkin on…… (Oh crap, the end of Leona’s tail is tangled with the ivy parts on the costume!) (My commitment to remaining faithful to the original is backfiring……) Leona: Tch, so it’s you. You rarely go outside, and yet you have the nerve to get into trouble. Hurry up and do something about this. Idia: Awawawawa…… (Using that tone while he’s knocked on the ground! He must be livid!) (“This ill-tempered guy’s tail got caught on my armor and now I’m in a tight spot,” is so not a “My hair got caught on his clothes, kyaa~ ☆ meet cute,” kind of plot hook.) (No, I don’t have the luxury of thinking about that in this situation.) J- Just hold on…… I’ll get it unstuck right away…… (Even though I said that, isn’t it impossible in this position? The range of movement in my arm is restricted, so I can’t reach at all.) Leona: ...... Idia: (Ah—! This is bad—! The more I try getting it unstuck, the more tangled it gets!) Leona: *growl*...... Don’t put your hands all over my tail. Idia: No, he’s the one who has more hands free, right? Could he help out a bit more? Actually, in the first place, this totally isn’t a place he should be napping, right? He’s totally cutting class...... He’s the one who blocked the path in the first place…… Isn’t he so proud of how tall he is? I’m not the one at fault, Leona is the one who should be apologizing…... Leona: ......Oi, I can hear everything you’re saying. Idia: H- Huh!? I- I was just joking…… hehe. (Oh, that’s right. Beastmen have really good hearing.) Leona: *sigh*...... You’re slow and inefficient. You don’t have scissors or anything, do you? Idia: A- Actually I do. I brought a repair kit just in case the costume broke…… huh!? (No way, is Leona gonna cut his own fur!?) Leona: Good grief, took you long enough. Idia: (Is he for real? Isn’t this a cool-guy maneuver only reserved for pretty-boys in manga!?)

Thud!

Idia: Huh? Thud? WHAAAAAT!?!?!?!?! You cut the vines I worked so hard on——!!! Leona: You were being too slow so I cut it myself. You should be thanking me. Idia: ...... Leona: Aren’t you glad it was me you tripped over? If it was someone scaaaa~ry it wouldn’t have ended this amicably, now would it? Honestly, aimlessly walking about with a tacky pumpkin on your head. You’re a real nuisance. See ya. Idia: ............ ......H- Huh~~~!? Did he just call the Pumpkin Knight tacky? He must not have eyes if he doesn’t understand the charm of this design……! That’s why I can’t stand Savanaclaw students; they’re all so rowdy…… Though I pity him for not being able to comprehend the greatness of the Pumpkin Knight. Just you wait! By the time the parade rolls around, I’ll have the equipment completely upgraded! And he’ll recognize just how cool the Pumpkin Knight is!

*Small note; I usually use (parenthesis) interchangeably for both whispering/talking quietly to oneself and for internal monologue that is put in parenthesis in the game itself. Here, however, since Idia uses both and it’s important to differentiate between them, (internal monologue is in parenthesis like this), while whispered dialogue is completely italicized, like this.

#twisted wonderland #disney twst #idia shroud #ignihyde #long post #my translations #leona kingscholar #.......he appears in the story

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theloneliestshipper · 3 years

Note

MLT universe: Fairly early on in their relationship Boba has to sit and listen to some other bounty hunters having a discussion about Leia’s fine “qualities”. Bonus points if he gets called out for not participating

Ged’s Cantina was falling apart. The squat building had been part of Coruscant’s undercity so long that no one could quite remember when it was built. It was not a popular place. The main bar on the street level might see two customers a night but in the cellar of the old building mercenaries and smugglers could be counted on to keep the credits flowing.

It was a good place to find work.

Boba Fett had a seat along the wall where he could watch the customers come and go. Something would turn up. Something always did.

And as long as he kept that in mind he could ignore the nagging thought that he could have taken Leia up on her invitation that morning. What started as a polite goodbye kiss ended with breakfast dishes on the floor and her on the table with her legs wrapped around him.

“I have meetings all day, but I’ll be home tonight.”

He was still inside of her, his mind half-static. She said “home” and he wanted...

Something.

His attention snapped to the Twi’lek mercenary who had just entered the cellar. Qin. His sister Xi’an was with him, as usual, and someone else. A red-haired human with boots that immediately caught his attention. And he wasn’t the only one.

“No Imps,” Shobav grunted. Shobav was the bartender in the cellar. Human as far as Fett knew, but two heads taller than average and with enough bulk to let everyone know that it was extremely unwise to piss him off.

“I’m ex-imperial,” the man shot back. “And you really think I’m worse than the rest of your customers? Look at that guy,” he continued, gesturing at Fett. “He’s not even drinking.”

“Shut up, Mayfeld.” Xi’an hissed. “Low profile, remember?”

Qin sat down at the table between Fett and the bar. “New crew member,” he said, too familiar for the bounty hunter’s liking. “He’ll learn.”

“He’d better learn fast,” Shobav muttered. “What’ll it be?”

Xi’an leaned over the bar and ran her fingers over the bartender’s arm. “Three shots of muun and if anyone from Crimson Dawn asks, we were never here.”

“You got it.”

Qin’s head tipped up towards the holoscreen mounted above the bar. “Since when do you watch the news, Shob?”

“When they’re showing something I want to see.” He slid three shots across the bar to Xi’an, who drank one immediately and delivered the other two to her companions.

The image on the holoscreen changed, a green bar announcing that it was pre-recorded content. A woman stood at a podium in some kind of open chamber.

Leia.

Fett recalled now that she had said something about giving a speech the previous day. She always had too much energy after a speech, she told him. She was happy he was there.

“That’s what you’re watching?” Mayfeld questioned. “Some lady politician?”

“Quiet,” Shobav ordered, his eyes on the screen as the text of Leia’s speech scrolled by.

“Not just a politician,” Xi’an corrected him. “A princess. And a rebel. How many of your fellow soldiers do you think she killed?”

“I told you to be quiet.” Shobav’s tone made it clear that this would be his final request. “If you can’t keep a lid on it, find somewhere else to hide.”

“Okay, okay.” Mayfeld raised his hands in surrender. “I can’t blame you for wanting to look at her. I’d like to do more than look if she wasn’t a rebel and, you know, so far out of my league.”

Fett hardly heard him. The dress Leia was wearing had braided silver cords that criss-crossed her shoulders. It looked complicated but it wasn’t, there was a clasp in the back that loosened them and made them easy to slide down the curve of her arm.

“Maybe not as far as you think,” Qin remarked, his voice low. “She likes to slum it, I hear. She was with some Corellian smuggler.”

“I’ve heard more than that,” Xi’an said slyly. “Fett knows.”

Everyone’s attention turned to him, including Shobav’s. Tension coiled in his stomach but Fett was careful to betray none of it with his movements. He tilted his helmet back slightly. “What have you heard?”

The Twi’lek stood and took a few mincing steps toward him, a teasing grin on her face. “I heard that you got a personal audience with the princess when she was the prisoner of Jabba the Hutt.”

“What?” Qin turned in his seat. “I thought you never took Jabba up on it. It was always a losing bet.”

“Not this time,” Xi’an reported gleefully. “I heard it straight from someone who lost a lot of credits. Fett kept her chained to his bed for days.”

“Shit.” Mayfeld shook his head. “That’s messed up. So? How was it?”

The chair scraped harshly on the floor as Fett pushed it back and stood. The abrupt movement caught the attention of the other patrons and the cellar went dangerously quiet. The only sound he could hear was his own enraged heart beating in his chest.

The trio at the table saw the shift at once, they were ready for a fight. Xi’an was already on her feet and her knives were never far from her fingers.

“Turn it off,” he told Shobav.

The bartender complied, keeping his hands carefully within sight. “My mother was Alderaani. That’s all.”

Fett gave him a spare nod in return before he turned to leave. He kept a close eye on the 360 display in his helmet to make sure he wasn’t followed. He walked until his heart rate slowed. The problem was that he didn’t have anywhere to go. He still needed to find some work.

He could always go back to Leia’s apartment.

A hooded figure caught his attention, a well-dressed and well-guarded woman leaving a much nicer bar. His steps slowed and then changed direction. “Lady Qi’ra,” he said as he approached the Crimson Dawn lieutenant. “I believe you have a job for me.”

#boba fett/princess leia #rebelbounty #my fic #prompt fill #*slaps roof of fic*#I can fit so many guest appearances in this thing #boba fett #qi'ra #qin #xi'an #migs mayfeld #Anonymous

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toflyandfall · 4 years

Note

I just saw a photo of "What persona. Dick Grayson isn't a mask. Not like Bruce Wayne is" from Detective Comics #725 and I find it interesting that Dick and the rest of the bats, with the exception of Bruce, don't wear "masks" per se. They are who they are with or without the domino mask/helmet. The only time I can really think of Dick faking things is when he pretended to be an incompetent BPD cop. How was he able to avoid creating and living, half the time, through a "persona" like "Brucie"?

Oooh, this is a lovely, meaty question. There’s a lot more analysis of Bruce than I planned because let’s be real, it’s kinda weirder for a guy to run around with half a dozen personas than for someone else to run around as himself. I hope you still find it interesting, but if you want to skip straight to the more Dick-centric stuff, head under the readmore.

A simple but significant factor is that Dick thrives on the company of people in a way that Bruce does not. I suspect if you talk honestly to many introverts, you will find they too have an extroverted ‘mask’ they put on to the larger world, though probably not quite so extreme.

Another factor is that the civilian social circles Dick and Bruce travel in are vastly different. Though they each have a reason for being in those circles, that difference itself enables Dick to escape much of the scrutiny that Bruce’s public identity undergoes, because he doesn’t frequently associate with the much more media-hounded elite.

An interesting thing here is that the large difference in social circles between their civilian lives is actually caused by their own personal similarities: they are 100% committed work-a-holics. It’s just that they have differing civilian approaches to their goals.

I want to start with Bruce because as you point out, his use of persona is distinct among the bats and his reasons for using them in part explain why Dick and the other bats do not.

Bruce is a child of privilege, he has always lived a lifestyle of privilege, regardless of the tragedies that have occurred during it, and his default view of the world, through no fault of his own, is natively that of the extreme upper class. This drastically influences his perspective and approach to change, and changing the world is his perpetual goal, the reason he put on the suit in the first place.

Bruce works a top-down society approach toward systemic change, and he works it all the time. This is actually my favorite but woefully under-emphasized part of him: he is not just someone who punches people on the street ‘for justice’, he uses his company, his money, and his social position toward substantial systemic change. This post does a wonderful job covering the ways he does this through his corporations and personal wealth, as does this one. I cannot recommend either enough because I constantly want to push even the most casual Batman fans to understand: Bruce Wayne is not just a violent punchy puncher man. He is a traumatized person genuinely trying to use all his resources including himself to make the world safer.

Detective Comics #725

Bruce has many personas he maintains, and he uses all of them according to what suits his need--Batman for places the law can’t go, Bruce Wayne the CEO pushing for systemic changes, Matches Malone for street information, and Brucie the society high roller for society information and social influencing. He is rarely ever not in a persona and simply ‘Bruce’.

His top-down perspective of enacting change are what dictated the usage and necessity of these personas. He has the means and capacity to basically disappear from society if he so chose--he in fact does so to train during his younger years so successfully they don’t even know how long he was actually gone.

The Batman Files

So he doesn’t need the personas. Not Bruce Wayne, CEO, or Brucie, or any of them really, to protect his identity. That tells us that Brucie is a deliberate choice he made at some point. He could have been a recluse billionaire Batman indefinitely. Even though he fully has the status and means to not maintain a job or a persona or, let’s be frank, a life outside the mask at all, it’s his own work-a-holicness that led to the creation of his public personas. He’s an obsessive strategist, so if Brucie is a choice, that leads us to why?

Bruce does many philanthropic things with his money, but he isn’t the only rich person around, especially not in a city as old and corrupt as Gotham. But he’s one of the very few ones doing good with it.

The comic you mentioned has a very beautiful moment where Bruce touches on that, and in full context you can feel how consumed he is by this goal of creating the Gotham his parents would have wanted. Batman mentions he never sees himself in that place, and the morbid interpretation is that the city kills him before he reaches it, but the hopeful interpretation is that in that shining city, Bruce Wayne and Batman and Brucie and all his masks will no longer be needed.

Detective Comics #725

Back in the old days they’d call it noblesse oblige: the inferred responsibility of privileged people to act with generosity and nobility toward those less privileged. Thomas and Martha Wayne ingrained this feeling of responsibility into Bruce by example, and as all things related to them, he obsesses over it. It urges him to fulfill expectations within segments of society he finds onorous for the betterment of society as a whole in order to carry out their unfinished works.

Enter Brucie.

Brucie serves a two-fold purpose. Since Bruce has chosen to maintain personas among society, it becomes a false face to justify any oddities Batman might bring into the life of Bruce Wayne by setting himself up as a eccentric, popular social scion. But that persona itself also allows him to manipulate the upper crust of society.

I have some insider perspective on the kind of society events Brucie attends. They’re all about the who’s who of making connections, name-dropping and networking, and unspoken class-based elitism. Charity events among the upper class have these things at the forefront and the cause is the background. You don’t get your hands dirty, you don’t go out and make change yourself, you pay money to be socially seen and sometimes it happens to go towards a philanthropic cause. If you want to raise money from the rich and keep people with deep pockets coming in the door, you have to have social currency yourself. This is where, and why, Brucie comes in. I believe Brucie ws crafted to maintain Batman’s cover but still attempt to carry on his parents’ legacy to grease the wheels of the rich in the directions he chooses: one of generosity towards those less privileged.

Superman/Batman #51

The inevitable flaw of Bruce’s approach to his personas and their philanthropy is that in a city rife with corruption, money distributed from the top has many opportunities to disappear well before it reaches the bottom. As in many of ways they are complements to each other, Dick’s approach balances that out, because his approach to helping his fellow man starts out at the street level...literally.

Nightwing #153 (Nightwing: The Great Leap)

Dick, we know, does not come from privilege. His mother was from a middle class family before she joined the circus, and despite being world famous athletes, most circus workers are lower to middle class. The people he grew up with, was comfortable with, were all working folk who expected everyone to pull their weight right alongside each other. He enacts this everyone-together approach in almost all aspects and phases of his life.

Batman #615

Even once he had settled into being Robin and adapted to living at the manor, he didn’t feel belonging to a culture of privilege, materialism, or high society. He preferred shotgun in the limo to chat with the driver to riding fancy in the back. Once he was able to start making his own decisions about where and how he lived, despite having both Bruce’s money and then later inheriting a substantial amount of his own, he chose mostly lower-class communal places.

Batman Black and White #6

Dick also doesn’t see the value of throwing money at a problem when there is an option to fix it with his own hands. We see this frequently, from building his own car instead of buying a finished one or outsourcing the work, to deciding the best way to clean out the BPD was to start at the bottom and work his way up (literally), to quitting college because his classes never got prioritized over crimesolving. Most of his day jobs ended for similar reasons.

Nightwing #153 (Nightwing: The Great Leap)

Despite the showmanship training, he gravitates away from spotlight on the rich and wealthy, who are notoriously the kind of people who do not get their hands dirty or go out and take care of things themselves, and prefers to find or build communities around the kind of people who do.

Finally, Dick is an extrovert. He doesn’t need to act extroverted as Brucie does because he is extroverted. He likes people and likes being around people. Whether by conscious choice or not, he tends to put himself in situations where he is surrounded by people in nearly all aspects of his life. He chooses apartment buildings whose occupants frequently pass each other on the stairs; jobs that involve interacting with many co-workers, patrons, or students; and collects superhero teammates like Boy Scout badges. And all of these behaviors come very naturally to him.

He doesn’t need a mask or a role or a persona for those kind of interactions; his mask is pre-supplied as “neighbor” or “co-worker” or “teacher” by the situations he puts himself in. It helps make him an exemplary leader, because just by acting authentically to himself, he automatically builds up little communities around him any time he arrives somewhere.

Bruce, on the other hand, is an introvert. For him, interacting with people isn’t easy, automatic, or comfortable unless it has a purpose, but as a strategist, he knows the necessity of human interaction as a catalyst to achieving dynamic change. So he adapts personas to suit people’s expectations. Extroverts have more social currency; the life of the party can generate more resources than a brooding wallflower.

So, it boils down to just a few elements: Dick believes in living and interacting at the street level to accomplish the things that he wants to, and he is extroverted enough that the level of social interaction that entails is not a burden to him. He surrounds himself with the types of people he is more familiar or perhaps more comfortable with, which happens to keep him further out from the media’s eye than associating with the upper crust does. The lower profile is more incidental than intentional, but it lessens his need to have a cover story for every single bruise and lets him get away with even less of a ‘persona’.

Bruce, on the other hand, is introverted and follows a more classist view that systemic change needs to be effected from the top down. His personas are more of a self-assumed duty than a necessity, as a way of trying to carry out his parents’ legacy. Any of his children could have chosen to follow his path in business or the high society limelight, but the sense of obligation toward it is something personal to him that most of them don’t share.

#bruce wayne #batman #dick grayson #nightwing #character analysis #dc #comics #meta #o.c.#bruce wayne analysis #bruce + dick #asks #anonymous #cover stories

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fluffyximagines · 4 years

Text

A Little Jealous

(Sex Education) Otis Milburn x Reader

Word Count: 2008

Summary: When your boyfriend starts acting weird you go to Otis for help and he is there to comfort you when you find out what's been going on.

Masterlist

“I need to talk to you” You approached your boyfriend, Jackson, as he was standing at his locker.

“I have swimming practice.” Jackson shut his locker and tried to step around you.

“No.” You stepped in front of him, blocking his way.

“Y/N I don’t have time for this” Jackson snapped, his voice rising slightly, as he tried to shove you out of the way.

“Of course you don’t” You sneered.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Jackson turned around to face you, raising his eyebrows.

“I don’t know” You shrugged, “Just seems like you never have time for me anymore.”

“Can we just talk about this later” Jackson shook his head, “maybe somewhere a little more private.”

“That would require you to actually speak to me” You scoffed. But Jackson just ignored what you said and continued walking away from you.

Your boyfriend had barely spoken to you in weeks, constantly avoiding making plans with you and never replying to your texts. He kept telling you that he was just busy and didn’t check his phone much but then whenever you did see him, he couldn’t look away from his phone for 10 seconds just to talk to you. You didn’t know what to think anymore. Of course the first thing that crossed your mind was that he didn’t want to be with you anymore, but you didn’t understand why he wouldn’t just break up with you if that was the case. Your friends kept trying to convince you that he must have something personal going on, of course you knew that his mums had issues, but this was a common thing and you didn’t think that would be his reason for pushing you away.

You didn’t know what to do anymore. You felt as though you were out of options. You didn’t want to get anyone else involved in your relationship with Jackson but you had tried to speak with him so many times and he wouldn’t let you, so maybe the only way to find out what was going on was to get some help. You decided you knew just the right person to help you with the problems going on within your relationship.

“Hey Otis, can I talk to you for a minute?” You whispered, as the rest of your class began to leave the room, heading for lunch.

“Yeah of course, what’s up?” Otis replied, placing his book back on the desk.

“Umm” You hesitated, looking shyly around the room to make sure no one would over hear you. “I heard people were paying you to help with their relationships and stuff.”

“Yeah, Maeve and I are running sort of like a sex clinic” Otis answered, nodding his head.

“Well I was hoping you could help me with something” You smiled shyly.

“Yeah of course, what is it?” Otis asked, looking at you with a concerned look.

“Well I guess you know that I have been dating Jackson for a few months now?” You began explaining your situation to Otis.

“Yeah I heard something about that” Otis nodded.

“Well the past few weeks he has been acting really weird” You continued, “It seems like he’s avoiding me. I have no idea what I did or why he doesn’t want to hang out all of a sudden but every time I try and make plans he has some sort of excuse.”

“I’m not sure that I’ll be able to fix anything” Otis responded, “but I can definitely have a chat to him and see if I can figure out what’s going on.”

“Thank you so much Otis” You smiled, “I know it’s not exactly what you normally do but I really appreciate it. I just want to understand.”

Otis gently placed his hand on your shoulder for comfort. “Y/N I’m always happy to help, you’re a good friend.”

You thanked Otis before turning and heading towards the door of the classroom.

“Hey Y/N” Otis called, turning you to turn back around and face him, “I really hope it all turns out alright.”

“Yeah me too” You gave Otis a smile before exiting into the hallway and heading for lunch.

You had known Otis for as long as you could remember. The two of you had always been best friends, inseparable. Otis was there for you through everything, your first crush, first kiss, everything. But when you got your first boyfriend, things started to change between the two of you. You never meant for it to happen, it just did. You and Otis had never been popular, in fact Otis and Eric had been the only friends you really had. But once you started dating someone on the football team, things started to change. You tried to remain friends with Otis and Eric, but slowly you began hanging out with the popular kids more and more. Before long it became difficult to maintain your friendships and you began to drift apart from Otis and Eric. That was the beginning of 9th grade, you were now half way through 10th grade and the the two of you had barely spoken in a year. You had to admit, you always kind of missed Otis and the friendship that the two of you shared, but you were to stubborn to ever admit that. So here you were, friends with a bunch of people who barely knew you, and a boyfriend who wouldn’t even talk to you.

You were laying in your bed thinking about everything that had been happening recently, and soon tears had begun to form in your eyes. You picked up your phone, deciding to try one last time to talk to Jackson. It had been almost a week since you had last spoken, maybe now that you had given him some space he would be ready to talk.

You: This is getting ridiculous, can we talk?

You: Please?

You put your phone next to you on your bed, deciding to read a book to take your mind off things. After about half an hour you heard your phone ding, you quickly picked it up checking who it was from.

Otis: Hey Y/N, Sorry I haven’t gotten back to you but can I talk to you at school tomorrow?

You: Did you find something?

You: Please just tell me.

Otis: I don’t think this is something I should say over text.

You: What are you doing right now?

Otis: Nothing. Why?

You: Feel like coming over?

Otis: Be there soon.

About 5 minutes later you heard a knock on your door.

“Wow that was qui-” You began before suddenly stopping when you saw who was standing on your door step.

“Hey” Jackson sighed, giving you a small smile.

“Hey? You barely speak to me for weeks and now you just show up here and say hey! What the fuck is going on Jackson” You yelled at him, blocking the doorway so that he couldn’t enter your house.

“Can I come in” Jackson mumbled, barely looking you in the eye.

“Fine” You agreed, stepping aside, “but you have some explaining to do.”

“I know” He nodded, entering your house.

“So, what’s going on?” You asked once you and Jackson had reached your room at the top of the stairs. You crossed your arms over your chest.

“I want to start by saying I’m really sorry.” Jackson took a seat on your bed, placing his head in his hands. “I know I haven’t been treating you right recently. I’ve just been trying to figure out how to tell you.”

“Tell me what?” You were even confused now than when Jackson had arrived. He genuinely look worried by whatever it was that he had to tell you.

“Y/N I care about you so much” Jackson continued to explain.

But before Jackson could say any more he was interrupted by the sound of your door bell.

“I’ll be back” You quickly said to Jackson before running down the stairs towards the front door. “Come in” You smiled as you opened the door and there Otis was on your doorstep.

“Sorry I got a little bit lost” Otis apologised as he entered your house, taking his helmet off. “Guess it’s been a while since I’ve been here.”

“Yeah” You frowned, suddenly feeling bad for what had happened between you and Otis last year.

“No no” Otis suddenly realised how that sounded. “I didn’t mean to make you feel bad.”

“So what did you need to tell me?” You changed the subject, wondering what was so important that Otis couldn’t tell you over text.

“So I mentioned to Maeve that you had asked for my help” Otis began to explain, “Y/N I’m really sorry, but she told me that her and Jackson hooked up at a party a couple of weeks ago. I don’t think she realised that the two of you were together but she feels horrible. Anyway, I guess that’s why he has been avoiding you recently. I’m really sorry this is the way you had to find out.”

Tears started to form in your eyes as Otis explained what he had discovered. You looked up as you heard a creak on the stairs, seeing Jackson slowly walking down.

“Y/N” Jackson began, a distressed look on his face.

“Don’t” You shook your head, tears streaming down your cheeks.

“I can explain.” He reached out to try and take your hand but you quickly snatched it away. “It was a mistake. I know it’s not an excuse but I was really drunk and I didn’t realise what I was doing. I don’t want to lose you Y/N, I care about you so much.”

“I don’t want to hear it Jackson” You couldn’t even look at him, your eyes were fixed firmly on the ground below you. “Just leave.”

Jackson quietly walked past you and Otis, who was awkwardly standing next to you with a surprised look on his face. He opened the front door and left after apologising again.

“I’m so sorry Y/N I didn’t realise he was here” Otis apologised, giving you a concerned look.

“What is wrong with me?” You cried, sitting down on the bottom step and sobbing into your hands.

“There is nothing wrong with you” Otis comforted you, taking a seat next to you on the step.

“Obviously there is. All the guys I like either don’t like me back or they lose interest and cheat on me.” You sobbed.

“Well obviously they are idiots” Otis wrapped his arms around you, pulling you closer to him so that you were crying into his chest. “If you were my girlfriend, I would never make you feel like you aren’t good enough.”

“You don’t mean that” You shook your head, trying to wipe your tears away.

“Of course I do” Otis smiled slightly as he helped you wipe some tears off of your cheeks.

“Otis I’m really sorry for what I did.” You raised your head so you were now looking into his eyes. “I should have been a better friend.”

“Its not your fault Y/N.” Otis brushed away the hair that was stuck to your face. “I guess I sort of pushed you away too. I didn’t realise it at the time but I think I was a bit jealous.”

“Of me?” You smiled giving him a confused look.

“Yes of you” He gave a small laugh, as he played with his fingers nervously.

You slowly leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to Otis’ lips. When you pulled away he was staring at you, his mouth slightly open with surprise.

“I know this is terrible timing but would you maybe like to get something to eat.” You offered, reaching out to take his hand as you stood from where you were sitting.

“I’d love that.” Otis took your hand as he raised himself from where he had been sitting.

The two of you had gotten ice cream and just talked for hours. You had to admit, it was the best you had felt for a long time.

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firelonewolf · 4 years

Text

Street Queen

Summary: the gang needs there van fixed or a trade out on the vehicle so the supes can't follow them.

Pairing: Hughie Campbell x Mechanic! Reader

A/N: I don't know why but I thought it'd be a good idea for this as a one-shot. Sorry if it's crap, hope you like it though!

The van getting wrecked sucked, Butcher was mad about it. Especially since it was running out of gas and they could only go so far in it. Luckily Hughie met someone who can help that isn't fair. Taking them there he was on edge, nervous because he wasn't sure if this could go well. But he figured why not give it a chance? From the little address on the card, he began anticipating the arrival. Pulling up they saw a bunch of people hanging out. Blasting music, smoking, and a couple with a beer in their hands. People surrounded waited for whatever it was. Behind the people was a large garage place tilted "Nitro Tires." Getting out of the van since it was blocked they entered the place.

Someone sitting once a stool reading magazine leaning against the wall. Chewing their gum they blew a bubble before popping it. "Who are you boys and lady looking for?" She inquired placing it in her lap. The group glanced at Hughie who pulled out the card again that you gave him.

"(Y/N) (Y/L/N)? She said she works here. Know her by any chance?" He inquired to the woman who barely glanced back at him. She stood up with her heels clicking coming over to them.

"That's the boss. Follow me," she says. Guiding them all around split into sections were mechanics working on cars. Woman and men surrounding them. All had nice cars and some classical ones. Hughie couldn't believe you owned the place.

"Hughie, where did you say you met this woman again?" Butcher inquires walking shoulder to shoulder with each other.

"Well, I met her at the grocery store," he remarks back to him. "She was looking for the bread aisle. She thanked me and gave me this car in case of car trouble." He shrugged to them all of them narrowed their eyes at him except for Kimiko. Kimiko was just observing the entire area.

"Hughie what is up with you meeting these women in random places and they end up always having something?" MM questioned him to which he shrugged. Hughie didn't expect to meet Annie at the park, but he did. Now he met you a business owner who happens to be a mechanic that apparently is still cooler than him.

"Seriously this one seems to make decent money" Frenchie comments seeing everything. Entering your side of the garage the woman stops it had a nice setup. Toolbox with many items surrounded it. Pictures around it and a NASCAR driver helmet in the corner. Even a nice stereo on a desk of it. This was pretty nice for a business owner and mechanic.

The entire group observed you're work area and were somewhat impressed by the appearance. The area was nice and said a lot about your personality. It was actually the size big enough for a bedroom almost. The woman turned facing them, "the boss should be here shortly."

"Where is she?" Butcher inquires to her.

"You know, out racing. Knowing her she'll be here any minute," she shrugs holding on the waistband of her skirt. Before walking away to go back to where she was before.

"Racing?" Frenchie inquires before taking the card from Hughie. "Wait a minute, I know her! She's the city famous street racer. Every mechanic place knows her! She's Street Queen! That's why this place is so nice and popular." Frenchie begins to mutter some french words at this. "Cherie told me about her. One of her associates got caught by the cops once, she bailed them out." He comments handing back the card.

"So this woman is basically doing illegal acts yet has a successful business and earned a title," MM says to them. "Well shit. Hughie what kind of energy do you have to attract a woman like this?" He says while leaning into the wall behind him.

"It wasn't planned! I didn't know who she was." Hughie remarks back. Suddenly the crowd of people is cheering. Entering into the garage was dressed in a Queen tank top with a pair of Jean shorts halfway of being booty ones. With a pair of sneakers on with a diem jacket tied around you're waste. The woman who guided them before was talking to you until you gave what looks to be okay. Everyone greeting you and you saying hi with you're keys in your hand.

In their eyes, you were intimidating without being not the point where they're scared, but your energy. You're a popular yet powerful type without doing much and admired by a lot of people. If the high school still existed for all of you, you would be running the school. You're slick, and cool yet resourceful compare to most. All those traits screamed from you as you came over.

Coming over to your spot of the garage you made it within five feet. "Hey Hughie, didn't expect you to come by this soon! Did you miss me that much?" You teased him as he steps out of the group.

"I suppose so." He replies with his hands in his pocket. "Were having car trouble. You said you can help? You were in a radius, so I figured to bring them here." Part of you was happy to see him but the other part was interested in what happened to their vehicle. A pregnant pause overtook where you gave a simple nod. "(Y/N) to meet my friends." You both turned to them. "That's Frenchie, Mothers Milk, Billy, and Kimiko." You said you're hellos to them.

They didn't seem bad in your eyes. They seem pretty cool to hang out with people. "What's wrong with you're car?" You inquired to them.

"Well love, our van tires popped on the way here and the engine seems like it'll bust any second," Billy explained to which you understood. Tire popped? Switching those out wasn't hard to do. You could do that in you're sleep. Now the engine? That could take a bit.

You did a short hum in response to this. Holding you're chin for a slight moment as you contemplated the time into that. "Alright." You say than place you're hand on your hips. "I can get this done by probably tomorrow. Depends on what's wrong with the engine." You walked passed them grabbing a bottle of water that was left on your desk.

"How much will this all be? $700 or what?" MM inquires to you. Charging? You didn't think about charging them. You rather see the damage first before wanting the money. But as you glanced at Hughie, he was cute. Nice guy from when you first met you could tell. He was a nice change of pace from it.

"Nah, I won't charge. But when I need a favor done, I want it taken." You tell them to which seeing them all shift.

"What kind of a favor? Because we aren't going to be you're cunts and smuggle drugs or anything." Billy suddenly gets defensive. Misinterpreted, perhaps you should have reworded this.

"No! Nothing like that. The only illegal thing I do is street racing. That's it, I don't do drugs. Dealing isn't allowed here," you remark. "Neither prostitution nor anything of that sort." Hopefully, they'd get the picture on that. "I meant if I need a partner on a job to get apart either that or a message directed to Vought. Nothing bigger than that," you remark. You did one illegal thing, doesn't mean you did them all. Vought has been patronizing you for the past couple of months though.

"Not a fan of the supe cunts are you?" Billy remarks back to you.

"Yeah, I'm not." You remark back. "Bring in the van, I'll determine how long it'll take from then on." Soon enough the pull the van into the garage. An old black van definitely didn't remind you of a creeper vehicle. Just put it in white and they'll have the full package. Examining everything was simple things. "Let's see, engine bit overworked. But I can fix that in no time. Tires just need a replacement. All of this can be done in no time." You explain but begin to get your tools prepared.

"What will we drive until the van did?" Billy asks you. You grin at this.

"I'll do you one better." You say and gesture for them to follow you. Entering a closed off part of the building they entered a dark room. Flicking on the lights was about three other cars that belonged to you but the rest weren't. Hughie saw all of this and figured you must really make some excellent money from the races and the business. He thought you were pretty before, but never expected to have this added to you. "Back there is my hummer." You explain as all go over. "This here is Rampage, this guy is great." You take the keys for it and toss it to Billy. "You can borrow it for a while. Try not to scratch it, and refill the gas."

Examining the car it was intimidating all alone. This sucker could probably bash anyone on the road hints the name for it. "Now this is fucking diabolical!" Billy said getting into the car. "Exactly my kind of style!" He grins as he's behind the driver wheel.

"Thanks," Hughie says suddenly. "You didn't have to do this. I'm thankful for your help, we-well we are grateful for your help." He says as the rest of the group checks out the car.

"Happy to." You reply back to him. An awkward silence consumes the air at this. "Well, it's nice to see you again."

"Yeah, you too." He replies awkwardly.

"I should get working on the van," you say. About to walk away but here Hughie says you're name. Freezing you turned back to face him. He stutters you give him a heartfelt smile, before going back and pecking him on the cheek. "Call me some time, Hughie. I'll have someone let you guys out!" You say rushing out before anything else.

Hughie blushed at this unexpectedly. For a bit, he found you attractive but were sure at the sight of this you're out of his lead. But this sudden gesture boosted his confidence once more. Turning back to the hummer he felt eyes. All smiling and nodding there heads at this. "What? That was a friend thing that she did!" He says making up some excuse.

Frenchie grinned while muttering a few words. "Yeah, yeah, get in the car and stop acting like a love-struck cunt!" Billy commanded to him. Hughie went to the hummer before glancing back at the doorway seeing you were no longer there. Yeah, he was definitely thinking about calling you. He's happy you decided to ask him to help you find what you needed in that grocery store that day.

"I'm not lovestruck, I just met her, " he comments when getting in the car.

"You sure?" MM remarks with a grin. "Give time then." He comments as they all put on seatbelts. Yeah, Hughie was gonna look forward to getting to know you.

#hughie campbell #the boys amazon #the boys season 2 #billy butcher #mothers milk #frenchie #kimiko #the seven #superheros #hughie campbell x reader

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florenceandthemachine · 4 years

Note

Christopher probably showing off his dads at his school's bake sale and raising the most money in his class.

we all have a hunger on AO3

When Buck’s phone rang on a Sunday morning, he had barely said ‘hello’ before he was steamrolled by the tiniest little force of nature in Los Angeles.

“Buck, Daddy and I need your help. It’s an emergency.”

“Chris, what’s going on? Are you okay? I’ll get my keys, I can be there in—“

“Wait, Chris, no, give me the phone!”

Buck was half out of bed, half dressed, and frantically looking for his keys when Eddie finally took over the phone, nearly hanging up in his haste. “Buck, no, there’s no emergency. Everything is totally fine, we’re fine.”

Buck froze halfway down the stairs, eyes narrowing suspiciously as he pulled his phone away from his head to finish pulling his shirt on. “See, that sounds like something a hostage would say, you’re really not helping your case here Eddie—“

“We are fine.” Eddie insisted, clearing his throat as Chris loudly voiced his disagreement in the background. “We’re just… baking. Chris has a bake sale tomorrow at his school, it’s one of their annual fundraisers. There’s a bake sale, and I’m making brownies, and we’re doing fine.”

Buck resumed dressing as soon as Eddie mentioned the work ‘bake’—it may not have been a true emergency, but he knew enough to know that anything involving Eddie with an oven was a mess and a half, waiting to happen. He hummed, pocketing his keys as he closed his door behind him, already making his way to the garage. “Well, I love baking. Maddie taught me everything she knows. Mind if I swing by and join you?”

Buck knew that Eddie still struggled with asking for help when he needed it—especially when he was asking someone outside of the Diaz crew—but thankfully, Buck knew how to work around that. He had learned early on that the best way to ease any guilt that Eddie might feel where Chris was involved was to completely reshape the question. In this case, it was easy; Eddie was no longer asking for help with one of Chris’ activities, Buck was asking to join them.

Even then, he heard Eddie hesitate. “Well… I mean, I don’t want to take up your Sunday, but—“

“Eddie, you’re not going to seriously deprive me of spending time with Chris, are you?” Buck said, his voice teasing as he slid into his car, delighted to hear Eddie laughing on the other end of the line.

“No, I wouldn’t dare. We’ll see you soon. Drive safe, okay?”

After a quick pit stop at Foods Co., Buck pushed through Eddie’s front door easily, arms laden with grocery bags. Chris was the first to greet him, his high pitched joy never failing to warm his heart. Dumping his bags on the kitchen counter (and looking away from the burned remains of… something in a pan), he scooped Chris into his arms, dutifully ignoring Chris’ cry of “Buuuuck, stoooop!” until he was basically a giggling mess.

Setting Chris back down, Buck was all smiles as he approached a very defeated looking Eddie in the kitchen, giving him a quick kiss of his own. “Hey, come on, cheer up. It’s basically impossible to bake in a bad mood.” Buck said, pulling Eddie into his arms easily. “Now, how about I break open the family recipe book and show you and Chris how to make the world famous Buckley Cheesecake Brownies?”

Halfway through the Pixar movie of Chris’ choice, Eddie had a third batch of cheesecake brownies cooling in the fridge, and Buck had Eddie tucked under his arm on the couch. He was basically on cloud nine, riding out a pleasant sugar buzz, feeling supremely comfortable in his own skin, though he knew that was more his proximity to Eddie than anything else.

His attention strayed from the… caterpillars? Grasshoppers? He honestly couldn’t follow what was going on, but it didn’t matter as Eddie culled closer up to him, angling his head up to press another kiss to Buck’s lips, voice low as they broke apart.

“Thanks for today, Buck. We… I couldn’t have done it without you.”

Buck smiled, a small, soft look that was strictly reserved for his Diaz boys, arms tightening around Eddie’s middle as he buried his nose in Eddie’s hair, pressing a kiss to the crown of his head as Eddie’s head rest on his chest.

“Yeah, Eddie, you could have. And you would have, you’d do anything for Chris, and I know that. But you don’t have to do it alone.”

Let it be known that Eddie Diaz was a fucking snack.

Buck knew it. The 118 knew it. Hell, even Carla knew it.

And the gaggle of moms milling through Chris’ school gymnasium? Well, they definitely knew it. And if they didn’t? Buck was 100% there to remind them.

He had all but insisted on joining Eddie and Chris to the bake sale on Monday, not even bothering with excuses, just happily loading Chris up into Eddie’s truck before he slid into the passengers seat himself. He wasn’t going to pass up the chance at scoring some new recipes, first of all, and second of all, he absolutely loved seeing Eddie in full dad mode. And there was no better place to see Eddie in dad mode than in the gymnasium of an elementary school.

Eddie in full on dad mode was fucking hot, okay? Sue him.

Once they had set up Chris’ booth—with a full banner Chris had insisted on painting himself, two tiered display tables stacked high with cheesecake brownies, and a place to make donations to the school, like every other booth had. They may not have been able to keep any of the money they raised, but Chris had more than enough incentive—the booth that got the most donations won their entire class a pizza party. Thankfully, Chris was adorable, and Buck had a secret weapon in his arsenal… the insistence that Eddie wear his LAFD tee shirt, turnout pants, and used an overturned fireman helmet as Chris’ donation bowl. He wasn’t a fool, okay? He knew that the competition was real.

So… he may or may not have had slightly less-than-altruistic intentions when he slipped away from the booth, kissing both Eddie and Chris on their foreheads with the excuse of scoping out the competition as he started to make the rounds.

He was having the absolute time of his life, slipping easily in and out of conversation, his worn henley and comfortable jeans better than any disguise as he eavesdropped, making fast friends and faster business as he made his way around the gym.

“I don’t know, I saw her tossing a few treat boxes into the dumpster outside. You think those cookies are store bought?”

”Oh, I’d steer clear. I think Maria might have mixed up salt and sugar. I mean, I donated of course, but save your tongue.”

“I just think it’s so great, the things that he does with his son. A single dad and a firefighter to boot?”

Obviously, as much fun as sabotage was, Buck’s real talent was talking up Eddie and Chris.

“Honestly, I feel so lucky to even know them. Chris is such a great kid, and Eddie really does go above and beyond.”

It was so much fun because he wasn’t even lying. He got to be as exaggerated and over the top as he wanted—whenever he got a little over the top with Chris, he was usually cut off by a pained groan and an adorable, blushing boy. Whenever he tried to get in depth with Eddie, well, Buck could barely get a few words out before Eddie found a much better use for his lips than talking (with his own adorable blush).

“The last fire we were in, Eddie singlehandedly saved a mother and son who were stuck beneath some debris. He’s an all around hero.”

He was talking now, though—and he had an entirely different approach planned out, depending on his audiences. For all the single moms, easily identified as those who couldn’t take their eyes off of Eddie? All he had to do was mention the word “fireman” and he had them eating out of the palm of his hand; and more importantly, racing over to buy a brownie.

For the parents who were more focused on cooing over the kids at the booths, well, Buck had a trick up his sleeve for them, too—it was as easy as pulling out his phone, scrolling through any number of the photos he had taken the night prior. His personal favorite was one of Chris, eyes bright with laughter, a blob of brownie batter at the end of his nose. He didn’t have to say anything—as soon as they saw that, they were shoving money into Eddie’s helmet.

Eddie looked more and more pleasantly confused as the morning carried on, but Chris looked absolutely delighted, and that was all that mattered as far as Buck was concerned.

“Wait, Buck, wait. You’re telling me you actually conned donations out of people by showing them pictures of Chris?”

Eddie had tears, literal tears in his eyes as he tried to inhale, gripping his half full beer bottle like a lifeline as he wheezed. Buck probably should have looked a little bashful, but Eddie’s laughter was too good to ignore, warming him from the inside out.

The parents had been thoroughly thanked and sent home before lunchtime, and Buck had taken no small pleasure in peppering Chris with kisses before Eddie pulled him out of the gym. They had both taken full advantage of their weekday off—namely, by napping and watching terrible daytime television—and Chris had barely made it a half hour after dinner before the day (and the sugar rush) caught up with him, crashing hard as Buck carried him to bed.

“Hey, Chris won the pizza party for his class, and trust me, that is a one way ticket to be the most popular kid in class. And I wasn’t lying, some of those cookies were store bought—everyone else in his grade can suck it.” Was it mature? No. But Buck stood by it. He was team Chris, ride or die.

“Buck, you can’t say ‘suck it’ about a bunch of kids.” Eddie tried to get out, but he was laughing again, leaning heavily against the wall for support as he clinked bottles with Buck. He still couldn’t believe how lucky he was, to get to be in Eddie’s space like this—so easily bumping shoulders and elbows and touching so casually, physical signs of affection that Buck had never allowed himself before. Eddie finally got a hold of himself as Buck pushed some of the curls back from his forehead, leaning into the touch easily, his expression nothing short of heart-eyes.

“Well, thank you for saving me from myself yesterday. And, of course, for cracking open the family recipes to help Chris and his school.” Buck blushed again as he sputtered on his mouthful of beer, struggling to swallow, looking up as Eddie cleared his throat.

“It, uh, I found that recipe on the internet.” He said, chewing on his lip, suddenly feeling a little nervous as Eddie smiled at him—and if Buck didn’t know better, he could swear that there was a pink tint to his cheeks..

“Well… I mean, it could be a family recipe now. After all, we made it together, you me and Chris… right?”

Buck’s eyes blew out wide as Eddie laced their fingers together. He hated the way that Eddie’s voice tilted at the end, like he was unsure of himself, and Buck literally had no choice but to pull Eddie into his arms, erasing any doubt from his mind. He had already known that Eddie would be it for him—that he and Chris were the best thing that he was ever going to get, that he would rather die than give this up, but hearing Eddie call them a family?

Holy fuck, Buck was in love.

#eddie diaz #evan buckley #chris diaz #i would die for christopher diaz #no doubt #soft eddie #soft buck #just so fucking soft omg #buddie #911 #flospeaks #floreplies #Anonymous

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breakingsomething · 4 years

Text

Dawn Station - Pilot

Basic summary: Video game developer Jack Mcloughlin is finally releasing a new game after a ten year hiatus.

Content warnings: Murder, dismemberment, body horror

It comes as a shock to everyone, including you, when Jack Mcloughlin announces the release of a new game at the start of the second week of October.

There are several reasons why this is such a big deal. One: Jack Mcloughlin has been making games since he was twenty seven, and has released only five of them in the thirty years he's been doing it. Two: Jack Mcloughlin is world renowned for his fantastic horror games, all done in wildly different styles, but still notably his own. Three: Jack Mcloughlin has not, up til now, so much as mentioned working on a new game. The only social media site he's fully active on is Twitter - which you check regularly for any updates - and before the release of his last game, Ehrmann Lab, he had left a series of cryptic clues for two months leading up to the announcement. Those had been probably the most fun two months you'd ever had in your life, and even helped you make new friends. But this time around, there is no warning. The trailer is dropped at Purina Expo, one of the biggest American gaming conventions of the year. You were incredibly lucky to be able to snag tickets. Usually, this convention is where the hottest games that would be coming out the following year would be announced, trailers would be played, and developers would discuss - so everyone there on October 10th is shocked to not only be the first to see the trailer, but to hear from the man himself. Jack Mcloughlin takes the stage, gleefully announcing the release of Dawn Station on October 31st this year.

Now, the release of a new game from Septic Games - Mcloughlin's own software company, which he founded after his second game's release - is a big enough deal. But this… this is something else. Mcloughlin explains it before the reveal of the trailer, and you listen with great excitement.

"Dawn Station," says the man, practically bouncing across the stage with glee and shouting into his mic with a hoarse Irish accent. "is a feat of modern gaming. Now, I understand that when you play games, it can get boring to replay them later on after you've finished, because - well, you know how it goes! You know all the twists and turns, all the jumpscares, all the fights, all the spooks. But what if I told you that there was a way you could play where things were different each time?"

Behind the man, on a large screen, an image comes up. This is the first promo image for the new game to be shown to the people. The image is of a tilted hallway in what looks like a complex, broken down space station, overgrown with unusual plants that glow and spark. In the centre of the image is an astronaut. His helmet is on the floor, blood soaked. His face is half in shadow. All that can be seen is curly olive hair and neon green eyes - two on his face, and one embedded in his neck. The suit itself is torn, ripped open with a mouth and a dripping tongue where the being's stomach should be. A torch is on the ground behind him, attempting to cast light on the room. The words "Dawn Station" come up in solid, bright green font next to the being's face.

"This is Dawn Station!" cries the developer, over the many excited murmurs of the crowd. "The first ever virtual reality game with a fully developed artificial intelligence antagonist! An antagonist who learns from the players movements and choices, who grows and changes based off of what you do. You control the game, now more than ever! He's clever, he's learning, he knows where you are, and his objective is to kill the player - introducing... Alien X, otherwise known as… the Anti!"

Everyone cheers. Mcloughlin steps aside, a beam splitting his pale face, and allows the room to darken, and the trailer to play.

You're in awe. The trailer shows that you play as a character named Drew Oliver, an astronaut in their mid twenties who's aboard the Dawn Space Station, which has fallen to the planet you seemed to have been monitoring - the Othohiri 5RM. The game seems to revolve around attempting to explore the little bits of the planet that you can while repairing the ship and dealing with your descent into madness, all the while being chased down by the Alien X, a shapeshifting monstrosity who's eager to end your life before you can finish your goals. After watching it… well, everyone is absolutely blown away, especially you. This is unlike anything Mcloughlin had ever produced, especially to this scale. It's no wonder he hadn't produced a game in ten years if this was what he had been working on. You're practically vibrating with excitement at the breathtakingly beautiful scenery and realistic yet perfectly stylistic graphics, and the 8D sound design that seems to echo from all around you. It's incredible. The second you get back to your hotel room that night, you're one of the first to preorder the game.

Your week at the convention ends, and you go back home, counting down the days to the game's release. However, even more exciting things are happening. On Twitter, a few of your favourite youtubers are acting rather cryptic. KrisDoesGAMEZ and rrroadblock, two streamers you like, retweet Mcloughlin's announcement tweet with eye emojis and promises of the game being good. DUSSST, visualthursday and BroAverage make their own posts about it. PeachCheerio and TheSkinnerr upload short update videos promising exciting things to come.

On October 15th, it happens - ten youtubers each upload an early access demo of Dawn Station, having been chosen and given the code to play it by Mcloughlin himself. You don't watch the videos because you want to play the game yourself with no spoilers, but from what you've seen, it's fucking amazing. Critics are already calling it the game of the decade. The internet is thriving, and a few people have already cosplayed Drew, the main character. Your best friend uploads a joking cosplay of the Anti and walks around town with it on. He gets over a thousand likes and teases you about being too good for you now that he's internet famous. You're living for all of this.

On October 16th, youtuber PeachCheerio is murdered in his own home.

Everyone is shocked, rightfully. Here is a man who had streamed just the day before, chatting with his members and looking at Dawn Station memes on Twitch. Today, he was discovered by his girlfriend in his own home. Leaked police reports tell you that the man, whose real name was Ronald Murphy, had been messily dismembered, his organs removed, half of them missing. You're in shock. He was one of your favourite streamers, and maybe it's silly to mourn someone you've never met, but you're deeply, deeply saddened by the news.

However, it doesn't stop there. The very next day, youtuber DUSSST - or Louise Greendale - is found the same way Ronald had been. Louise's girlfriend apparently called the police in hysterics before panic tweeting about the incident. The posts were taken down an hour later. The screenshots of what she'd said trend of Twitter and Tumblr anyway.

This is when the conspiracy theories arrive. Two youtubers dead in two days, both brutally taken apart and missing organs? Some people mock the theorists for it. Who had even said Louise had been killed the same way as Ronald, anyway? That is, until more apparent police reports are leaked revealing the details of Louise's death. The internet goes wild. The Los Angeles police department posts a video begging whoever's causing the leaks to stop, to think about the families of the deceased. All this does is prove that they're true. This video, too, is later taken down.

You log off in disgust. Some people have no fucking shame.

Things heat up the next day, on October 18th, when user rrroadblock, or Aryan Jha, dies as well. The death is covered up for the first few hours afterwards, but eventually is leaked in the same manner as the last two murders. This time, the theorists are no longer labeled as crazy. In fact, everyone's getting in on this mystery now. Three popular youtubers dead now, each found in bloody states in their own homes, three days apart? No one knows what's happening, but that doesn't stop people from guessing. And while you refuse to involve yourself in any of this, you also find yourself wondering who or what - not what, of course it's not a what, that's just ridiculous - who is killing all of these people.

Day four. The internet is silent, waiting. And yes, sure enough, youtuber KrisDoesGAMEZ, or Kris Velvet, is dead.

This time, someone realizes something that makes everyone pause. Each of the dead youtubers are all the ones who were given the free demo of Dawn Station, and are even dying in the order that they played it in. Everyone goes insane. Even you're suspicious - of what, exactly, you don't know, because why would someone murder someone else so brutally over a video game? Despite that, this can't be a coincidence. People place bets on whether youtuber ducksontheroof, or Donna Campbell, is going to be the next one to be found dead. Donna herself makes a statement on her Instagram, expressing disgust at all the people who were spreading such information around. She then deactivated all her socials apart from her YouTube. The people who had been making bets were shamed, and you have to log off yet again. This is getting to be too much.

You stay offline until nearly four pm the next day. Your friend calls you up to give you the news, but you already know what they're going to say. Let me guess, you start, voice flat and tired. Donna Campbell's dead.

They confirm it. You don't know what to say.

Her family put out a statement asking people not to theorize about her death. People do it anyway. Reports state that the remaining five youtubers who had played Dawn Station, along with, surprisingly, Jack Mcloughlin himself, had been taken into police custody. For protection, you assume. Once again, the internet goes insane. This proves their theories about the game connecting all the deaths, and a silent dread and buzz of twisted excitement hangs over everyone. You're just disgusted. People are treating this like some kind of murder mystery game, like this isn't real, actual lives.

Two days pass without news. At the end of the second day, there's yet another leak. Youtubers Doomandgloom - Persephone Henry - and TheSkinnerr - Rodney Pratt - are dead. You're just numb. You're just so fucking numb.

This reveal, of course, inspires yet another debate. If the youtubers had been under police protection, how had they died? Had the police seen anything? Why hadn't the leak said anything about it? Who was killing all these people in so little time, how hadn't they been caught? Had, really, no one seen anything at all?

There are now three youtubers left who'd played the game. Hothothotstanley, or Stanley McIver, visualthursday, or Khia Herrera, and BroAverage, or Chase Brody. You met Stanley McIver, once, at a convention in London three years ago. You have a picture on your memory board of you standing in the convention hall, him with his arm around your shoulder, you with a grin and sparkle in your eye. You can see the picture from your bed. You turn away from it.

However, the next day is a surprise to everyone. A video is uploaded to someone's Twitter - a full, uncensored video of the murder of Stanley McIver inside the government safe house he and the others had seemingly been kept in. The video is immediately taken down and the Twitter deleted, but everyone has seen it. Including you. The video is… horrifying. Of course it is. Why did you watch it? But you do manage to see who it is that killed him. Everyone on the internet does. And this - this video, that's maybe five minutes long - is enough to make everyone go silent.

The killer looks exactly like the Anti from Dawn Station.

No one knows quite what to make of this.

Even less so when Jack Mcloughlin dies the next day.

He's murdered. Same way as all the rest of them, in police custody. Now this is enough to shock everyone into mourning silence. Only a few pricks are left, and their accounts, channels and blogs are swiftly deactivated. Nine deaths in nine days. Nine deaths. Nine. Jack Mcloughlin.

The next day, Khia Herrera - well, you know.

Chase Brody is the last one left alive. You never watched his channel that much - he's really into horror, and is known for his Walking Dead playthrough and his Undertale Genocide run - but you still already feel a strange sense of loss. A sort of emptiness. Something churns in your stomach that you don't understand. There's a lot that you don't understand.

The release of Dawn Station is cancelled.

You spend the night at a friend's house, and just bawl for hours. You shouldn't be so upset, you shouldn't! You never knew any of these people! But fuck, there's something about seeing all these people who you'd been watching online for so long, who have given you so many happy days, so many laughs and inside jokes… just die. How had this happened? Who was it who was doing this?

Your friend sadly suggests it's some sick Jack Mcloughlin hater who decided it'd be fun to cosplay as his newest character and kill people to scare everyone. But while you outwardly agree, you internally know it's not true. Because every time you watch that video, every time you watch Stanley die - and you watch it a lot, just trying to make yourself feel something, even if it's just sick - you can tell the person isn't human. You know that's ridiculous, of course. But there's something about its eyes. Its face. It glances up at the camera and makes eye contact, and grins with too many white, jagged teeth, like an anglerfish. The eye in its throat sees you too. It glows. You shudder every time, watching it shake with glitches and laughter.

You're scared. You feel sick and dizzy and you lock your doors out of fear. You stay inside and open Tumblr, Twitter and Instagram again.

Poor Chase Brody, says the internet. They're already mourning. Already accepted his death. Poor, poor Chase Brody.

You hope he's ok, wherever he is.

#dawn station #jacksepticeye #antisepticeye #boop writes

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itsthemoofacewriting · 3 years

Text

Drowning in the night

Among us is quite popular at the moment (rightly so) and it’s Halloween, so I was really feeling this. It pushed aside all of my current WIPs in demand to be written.

There’s a lot of similarities with the game, but I did take some artistic liberties, so don’t come at me. If you’ve never played Among us, it might be worth looking up the rules/gameplay before reading- otherwise a lot of things are going to fly straight over your head. The ship is based on the Skeld map to give you a rough layout, but there are some differences.

Title is from ‘Burning Lights’ by The Weeknd, I listened to this a lot when I was writing.

Summary: The ship’s suddenly breaking down and crew members are starting to behave suspiciously. Bonds are about to be tested as suspicion rises of an imposter amongst them. ZoNami. Among us AU. Rating: M- Horror, Blood, Gore

Can also be found on AO3 and FFN.

Enjoy!

Nami’s looking at the charts on the screen in front of her and frowned. The ship’s slightly off course. She’d plotted that just this morning and the weather nodes hadn’t detected anything for concern, there was no reason for the shift. She shrugged it off. Sure this was the first time it’d happened, but this wasn’t the newest ship anymore. She’d check the weather nodes shortly and keep an eye on things.

For now though, she made the adjustments and as she did, she caught Zoro dozing off at the far wall near the door. He’d been hiding away in here for most of the morning and if she hadn’t already known about him dealing with stray asteroids this morning on his watch, she’d be moaning at him about being lazy. Give it another 10 minutes and she still might.

But then she stopped and gave him an assessing look as an idea came to mind. He hadn’t moved for the last 10 minutes, he was probably in a deep sleep by now, and that thought made her hand twitch for the permanent marker that she knew was in her desk drawer. She’s done it before, and it’d been hilarious. He’d walked around the whole day with a moustache and pirate patch without knowing. Some would say it’s mean but she believed it was fair play.

“No,” he said, one eye cracked open to glare at her.

How the hell did he do that?

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She smiled at him far too innocently, hands behind her back, and his other eye opened to properly glare at her.

When it was clear he wasn’t buying what she was selling, she huffed and turned around to get back to her task and Zoro readjusted to get comfortable again as he let his eyes slip shut.

Nami and Zoro had been travelling together for years, along with Luffy, Usopp and Sanji. Only recently had they been joined by Chopper, Robin, Franky and Brook. In all honesty, Nami wasn’t sure how they coped without them. Running a ship was difficult at the best of times and before, they’d been doing with only five people and no mechanic- Usopp could only do so much. Franky had blanched when he’d seen the state of the ship.

She’d just finished her adjustments when the communicator in her ear suddenly started to screech and it’s so deafeningly loud there’s a moment where she can’t do anything other than clutch at her helmet. From the corner of her eye she can see Zoro having the same reaction, no longer snoozing against the wall.

In the next moment she’s trying to tear off her helmet, except she can’t get the final clip to undo at the back and the more desperate she was becoming, the harder it was to do. Her eardrums felt like they were about to burst any second and there’s tears collecting in her eyes from the pain.

But then it’s over. There’s another pair of hands pushing hers away and smoothly unclipping the helmet. Not a moment later and she’s clawing out the earpieces to throw them across the room. There’s still ringing in her ears but it’s fading quickly now there’s silence.

“You alright?” Zoro’s voice is rough, no doubt from his abrupt wake up call. He’s looking down at her with concern, like it hadn’t just happened to him too and his thumb is wiping the stray tear that fell.

It’s a soft gesture, especially for him, and it’s like it suddenly dawned on him what he’s done. He coughed, face flushing and took a step back, avoiding eye contact. Nami smiled to herself, he was doing more and more things like this lately and it was becoming more apparent why with each passing day.

In the early days of the crew, Zoro and Nami had spent their days viciously arguing with each other and if it hadn’t been for Luffy gluing them together back then, she wondered if they’d still be travelling together now. Their arguing had ceased as time had passed and they’d got to know one another. Now they bickered instead and it’s harmless, even if they do anger the other occasionally give it half an hour and they’re back to normal. It was easy for Nami to call Zoro one of her best friends. Because he is. He understood her and although it worked against her sometimes, she’d have it no other way.

But lately. Lately things had shifted. She couldn’t put her finger on it. More time spent together and soft looks that he thinks she doesn’t see. Yet, it’s hard to tell with Zoro. He doesn’t do anything overly romantic and as for flirting, she doesn’t think she’s ever seen him do it. He doesn’t seem like the type and that’s fine, but it made it hard to be sure. Maybe he just viewed her as a friend, or worse, as a sister. She knew that Luffy did.

When Nami nodded in response to his question, it should be awkward, Zoro still refusing to look directly as her and her cheeks were warm from his gentle touch, but the communicators were still screeching, and it could be heard from across the room. Frowning, Nami walked over to pick them up. It’s the first time it’s ever happened in all her time on board and paired with the drifting ship, she can’t help the suspicion that’s brewing.

Maybe their ship had seen it’s best already- a thought that Nami didn’t want to entertain too much. There were so many memories on this ship.

There’s a commotion outside that halted her thoughts, feet thumping through the long corridors and voices calling out to Franky. Zoro’s nodding to her then, gesturing towards the door that they should also go.

Unfortunately, Zoro took the lead.

“How many times do I have to tell you? It’s right out of navigation to get to the cafeteria!”

Zoro turned on his heel and stomped past Nami, face flushed in embarrassment. “I’ve gone that way before,” is his only defence.

Nami rolled her eyes. “You can go that way, but it takes twice as long and, knowing you, you’ll end up taking another wrong turn and do a whole lap around the ship.”

Based on his silence, that is what he’s done before.

She truly wondered about her sanity sometimes, falling for a guy that has no sense of direction. An idiot.

They’re the last ones to arrive when Franky’s explaining the issue. Something about a system that’s probably fried, although he doesn’t understand why it’s happened yet. Just that he’ll investigate and get back to them and that sounded reasonable enough to everyone as they nodded along. Franky collected their earpieces.

“Back to shouting then,” Nami sighed, imagining the chaos and noise this’ll bring. Luffy on the other hand is thrilled, and everyone knows he’ll spend the rest of the day running around the ship.

They’re breaking apart after that, back to their previous activities, and Sanji’s shouting after them about lunch being soon, which immediately stopped Luffy from leaving to tail Sanji back to the kitchen instead.

“I need to check the weather nodes, our course altered for some reason and I need to make sure they’re performing. If they’re not, I can’t anticipate any weather patterns that’d affect the ship’s course,” Nami explained as they walked back to navigation. Although as soon as she did, she realised she’s discussing this with Zoro, of all people. He’s never understood any of this and she’s sure it just goes in one ear and out the other.

Nevertheless, he nodded and wisely kept his mouth shut. At least he understood she’d need someone with her to do that. It wasn’t wise to step outside alone; there were old wives’ tales of people going missing when they went outside the ship alone.

“After lunch. The cook’s bitching at me about cleaning the garbage shoot.” Despite his words, he still settled back down into his previous spot by the door and she knew there’d be an argument kicking off soon if he didn’t move himself.

Before she could tell him as much, the lights above them flickered and there were voices throughout the ship shouting “Usopp” and “electrical”. Usopp could be heard loudly groaning in response and his feet dragging through the ship.

Zoro grunted his goodbye shortly afterwards and Nami shouted “turn right”, but it was too late. He was gone and she knew him well enough to know he’d turned left instead. Idiot.

Nami was typing away at the screen, downloading this morning’s data and making a note to head over to admin to do it there as well. If she didn’t, it was unlikely anyone else would. Although Robin might, she had been known to do it occasionally. That woman was a blessing. Nami honestly didn’t know how she’d survived all this time with those idiots, even if they were her idiots, they drove her insane at times with their laid-back attitudes.

She’s still downloaded data when she suddenly heard a rumbling sound behind her, far too close for comfort, and she jumped, turning as she did but nothing was there. It was quiet for a moment and she could feel a cold sweat breaking down her back. It was ridiculous, she’d always felt safe in this ship but there was something about this morning that was getting to her and she’d never heard that sound before. It happened again and one of the vents rattled.

Not a second later, she was running out of the room, feeling like a spooked child, and swiping her key card to lock the door behind her.

A shiver ran down her spine but before she could do anything else, a blood-curdling scream ripped through the ship. Her head whipped towards the direction and she was running before she could even think it through, she knew that scream anywhere, but she’d never heard him like that before.

“Usopp!”

She was passing through storage when a voice shouted after her. “Nami! What the hell happened?” Zoro asked, catching up to run alongside her.

“No idea. I’m hoping he just electrocuted himself.”

But for all her wishful thinking, Usopp wouldn’t scream like that over something so menial and Zoro must have thought the same as it was written all over his face.

Along the way, they’d picked up Brook and Robin and as they narrowed in on the room, from the opposite direction was Chopper, Sanji, Luffy and Franky.

The door flew open and Sanji was the first to ask, “What the fuck was that?!”

The room looked trashed, wires haphazardly dangling from units or snapped with electricity sparking from them. Usopp was in the middle of the chaos.

“Something grabbed me! It tried to drag me across the room,” Usopp said, his voice shaking and on the verge of hysterical as he sat on the floor hunched over and clutching at his ankle. His face was as white as a sheet.

Despite the state of him, and the room, the crew were aware of Usopp’s rather… theatrical storytelling.

“Sure it wasn’t just a rat? Maybe its tail touched you or something,” Zoro suggested, shrugging his shoulders.

Nami grimaced at that thought but she nodded. “As much as the thought pains me, it probably was a rat. You guys hardly clean very much.” Something she would make a point of nagging them about from now on.

“What’s wrong with your ankle?” Chopper inquired; he’d been quiet thus far but as the ships doctor, he’d noticed Usopp’s odd position.

Usopp cringed as he removed his hands from his ankle and the crew blanched. The yellow of his suit was ripped open and his hands were covered in blood. The skin around his ankle had a deep handprint that cut through the skin. The most disturbing part was the claw marks surrounding the handprint, the skin raw and red around the scratches. Clearly there’d been a struggle.

“Oh shit,” Sanji muttered under his breath, eyes going round.

Because not only was Usopp hurt, but that was a handprint on Usopp’s bloodied ankle.

One that looked very human.

The room suddenly felt far too heavy.

It was then that Luffy spoke. So far he’d been quiet but his frown had only grown. “Cafeteria,” he ordered, his voice firm and a stark contrast from the happy-go-lucky captain they were used to.

“This hardly seems like the time to eat,” Franky trailed off, rubbing the back of his head as his eyes trailed from Usopp to Luffy.

“There’s multiple exit points,” Robin supplied, catching on to what Luffy meant.

That set the mood. Suddenly everyone seemed on edge as the reality of the situation settled. Luffy was being serious. This was serious.

Sanji and Zoro wrapped one of Usopp’s arms around their shoulders and they were hauling him up to follow after Luffy towards the cafeteria. Chopper scuttled after them, saying he’d stop by the medical bay for supplies before meeting them there.

Nami stood there, trying to comprehend just what was going on as everyone filed out.

Robin walking over to touch her lightly on the arm. “If whatever this is was dangerous, it would have killed Usopp on sight without leaving a trace of him,” she reassured.

That at least got Nami out of her stupor and she gaped at her friend in horror. “That’s so dark Robin!”

The atmosphere in the cafeteria was tense, no one had spoken, not even when Chopper had trotted in to start working on Usopp’s ankle.

Sanji broke the silence. “Did you see anything?”

“No.” Usopp shook his head. “One minute I’m elbow deep in wires and the next I’m on the floor being dragged.”

“Full story, go from the start and tell us exactly what happened.”

“Okay, so I’m in the corner because for some reason the wires looked frayed and I thought I heard something but when I turned there was nothing. I turned back to continue but then there’s something grabbing my ankle and pulling me across the floor.” He paused then, his body shaking slightly. “It came from behind and that’s when I screamed. I started kicking and thrashing around, grabbing onto whatever I could and then it just disappeared. It was like nothing was even there in the first place.”

“Where was it dragging you?” Nami asked. She had a hunch.

“It didn’t get very far but I think it was towards the opposite corner.”

“Where the vent is?” She could feel dread filling her… surely not?

“Yeah!”

The crews gaze swivelled on Nami then, waiting for her to explain why she would guess something like that.

“There were weird sounds in navigation and the vents were rattling just a few minutes before you screamed but I ran as soon as I heard it.” She shivered at the thought, that could have been her.

“You think it came through the vents!?” Chopper squeaked, there was vents in the med bay too. There were vents in almost every room and that knowledge didn’t settle anyone.

“What the hell is small enough to fit in there and move around so quickly?!”

“Also, the ship’s behaving strangely. It was off course this morning just after I’d plotted it out, then the communicators breaking and then the lights?!” Nami said and with each passing issue she listed, the feeling of dread grew.

“What are you suggesting?” Robin calmly asked.

There was a moment of silence, because this moment was inevitable, and they’d all been trying to delay it. Where someone would have to voice what everyone was starting to think.

That someone in this crew did it.

“Where’s everyone been this morning?” Zoro asked, solemnly.

Everyone’s rattling off their locations and, so far, they’d all been with each other, apart from Usopp. But it’s then that Nami realised, Zoro had left just before it’d happened. He’d left to go and clean the garbage shoot and by the sounds of it, never made it there as Sanji didn’t say anything about seeing him.

“Me and Zoro were in navigation.” Zoro shot her a look and she’s not technically lying but if she gets found out that he had left briefly, it’d looked suspicious as hell. But there’s no way Zoro did this, one of the foundations of this crew along with her and Luffy, their longest standing member, their second in command, and she’s not about to have people pointing fingers at him.

Zoro’s shooting her looks that she decided to ignore but he doesn’t challenge her. If he did now, not only would he put himself under suspicion, but it’d also take her down with him. It’s the last thing either of them needed.

“Then something else must be on the ship,” Sanji offered, unwilling to point any fingers.

“How? We’ve been travelling for weeks and it picks now? Sounds too sophisticated for something that’s not human and how’s it not been spotted? It’s gone around undetected all this time?” Zoro questioned.

“So what? You’re suggesting it’s one of us? The vents are too small!”

“Unless someone in this room isn’t who they say they are,” Zoro continued and although he was off to the side, he had the attention of the whole crew. “The ship suddenly breaking when it’s been fine all this time and getting around undetected. This needs knowledge, something that can be learned by being around us all.”

“There’s rumours about this. They’ve never been confirmed though because ships and their crew disappear without a trace, never to be seen again,” Robin chimed in and it had Nami, Usopp and Chopper looking at her in terror. Franky shook his head next to her.

“That’s old wives’ tales!” Usopp said, but there’s a wobble in his voice that doesn’t make it believable. “Right?”

“Had to come from somewhere and we did just pick up new recruits,” Zoro said and his scrutinising gaze is aimed at Robin, Franky and Brook.

“You better not be suggesting what I think you’re suggesting,” Sanji growled, no doubt sticking up for Robin.

“Coincidental, no?” Zoro’s eyebrow quirked.

“I think everyone needs to calm down,” Brook said, his hands held up to avoid confrontation.

“So you’re accusing Chopper, too right? Because he’s just as new as the rest of them,” Sanji argued, ignoring Brook, to call Zoro out his favouritism. It was no secret that Zoro had taken the young medic under his wing.

They both started arguing and soon enough, the rest of the crew’s chiming in to either argue for one side or try to calm everyone down.

Nami agreed with Brook. They weren’t going to get anywhere sitting around pointing fingers at each other with no proof. “Luffy, say something!”

Her plea to the silent captain cuts through the argument and everyone’s turning towards Luffy for his verdict. He had yet to weigh in on the argument, but now wasn’t a time for silence. They needed their captain to take charge.

“No turning on each other,” is all he instructed, face serious and arms crossed from his position on the table.

“Luffy-” Zoro started, no doubt about to try and talk some sense into him as second in command.

“What if you’re wrong?” Luffy fired back, not letting up and he made a good point. Not even Zoro would forgive himself if he was wrong.

“And if I’m right?”

“Lot of ifs flying about,” Usopp jumped in.

“We’ll deal with that if the time comes.” There’s a finality in Luffy’s voice that said this part of the discussion was over.

“Franky, what are the routes for the vents?” Nami enquired, eager to move away from that topic. They needed to move forward anyway, not in circles. “Maybe we can avoid them until we find… whatever this is.”

Franky sighed, his shoulders slumping, “I connected them all together a few weeks ago… It made more sense for ventilation.”

Nami cringed in response, it’s a bad answer and one that put him on the receiving end of a few sharp looks. Robin rubbed his shoulder consolingly, but it didn’t do much to alleviate the tension in the room. It was like everyone in the room just put him straight into the number one position for most suspicious and he knew it.

Zoro was about to open his mouth but instead of words it was replaced by an angry shrieking of the alarm and red lights suddenly started flashing above their heads.

“What the fuck is that?”

“It’s the reactor!”

“So it can’t be any of us, we’re all here!” Sanji exclaimed, shooting Zoro a sour look as he spoke and Zoro returned the look tenfold.

“Not the time for that!” Nami barked, in no mood to break up a fight right now.

And then the lights cut out and they were in pitch black for a few seconds before the dim of the emergency lights flickered to life. They were far weaker than the main lights and the result was poor visibility- everything would be so much harder to do like this. The intermittent flash of red didn’t do much to help either.

It was just one thing after another.

“Shit, shit, shit!” Nami presumed that was Sanji based on the language and the chair that was just kicked across the room.

“What do we do?”

“I’m going to deal with the reactor.” Franky shouted, already making his way to the door with Robin on his heels. “The lights shouldn’t go off like this unless there’s multiple breaks in the wires, you need to find where the broken wires are, it’s most likely in multiple places.”

He’s almost gone but he stopped at the door when Nami shouted after him, “Franky, did you fix the communicators?”

“Not well but they’ve stopped screeching, it’ll have to do for now.” He quickly grabbed the small devices from his suit pocket, chucking them towards the crew.

And then he was gone.

“Everyone in pairs, do not leave anyone alone and we’ll meet back here after!” Luffy ordered.

Zoro was instantly by Nami’s side and Sanji looked like he was about to argue until Usopp clung to his side, telling him he needed the most protection out of anyone else. Although Sanji bitched at him to get off, Sanji’s face softened as he looked at the younger man.

“Keep Nami safe, Marimo!” He shouted as he ran with Usopp towards electrical.

“Idiot, he needs to worry about himself,” Zoro grumbled, folding his arms.

“Let’s go, we need to find any wires that are frazzled, we’ll start with the right wing.” She explained, taking off towards the exit of the cafeteria with Zoro hot on her heels. “Well… just follow me, you probably don’t even know where that is.”

“Oi! I know my left from right.”

Nami grabbed Zoro’s hand just as they entered the corridors and as much as she told herself it was so that he didn’t get lost, it wasn’t convincing enough to stop the flush from working its way up her face. Especially when Zoro squeezed her hand in response.

“So we don’t get lost,” she supplied.

Zoro snorted in response but for once, didn’t say anything back.

The peace from this morning was long gone and was replaced with thumping footsteps and shouting as the crew descended into chaos, scattered across the huge ship trying to stay alive. At one-point Brook, Chopper and Luffy ran past them and Nami was left shouting after them because it looked like they were running around with no real ambition.

It didn’t take long after that for Nami to find one of the breakages and she was left gaping at it. It looked like it’d been chewed apart, the metal was torn open with sparking wires hanging limply.

“Focus,” Zoro said, nudging her arm. “I’ll cover you, don’t worry.”

In that moment Nami was happy to have him with her. He kept a cool head in dire situations, and she needed that right now. She needed to not think about someone… something, on their crew trying to destroy their ship and kill them all. She took a deep breath in and a deep breath out to centre herself. Fix the wires first and everything else would come second, she told herself.

She clicked the light on the shoulder of her orange suit to illuminate the wires in front of her as her helmet was still clipped around the belt of her suit. No one had put theirs back on since the communicators this morning.

She was making good progress and she only had two wires left to reconnect when both her and Zoro’s attention was stolen by the communication doors closing just a few feet away. What the hell? No one was down this part of the ship.

The hallway suddenly came alive as doors started closing and opening randomly.

“What the fuck is that?”

“Someone’s tampering with the wiring or the controls.” Dread was building in her stomach; it was one thing after another. They were being sent on wild goose-chase after wild goose-chase- a distraction to keep them busy.

A crackling was heard through her communicator and she was struggling to keep up at everyone’s broken words.

“Someone- admin-”

“Not right- still- someone else-”

“I’m- route,” Brook crackled through and by the sounds of it, he’d be dealing with it.

They could hear feet running down the hall close to where they were and that reassured Nami that Brook was close and that the issue would be resolved soon.

Except that reassurance soon disappeared as Nami heard a familiar sound and it made her stomach drop. As quickly as she could, she was reattaching the last wire and stumbling over her words to tell Zoro what was about to happen. “Zoro, it’s the rumbling of the vents, that thing is on the move. Think of a room for us to hide in without a vent so we can go as soon as I’m done.”

Zoro was quiet for a moment and Nami knew how absurd it was to ask that of Zoro, he barely knew the layout… well, he thought he did, but that was an entirely different issue and Nami couldn’t think of everything herself right now. But then his hand was on her arm, ready to pull her as soon as she was ready.

As soon as the last wire was in place, she was almost pulled off her feet as she stumbled to keep up, running past communications as the door was still closed and into the woman’s room next to it.

Zoro pulled out his key card to close the door after them and she felt her patience thinning when he failed on the third attempt. Third!

“How the hell can you still not work your key card after all this time?!” She whispered huffily, pushing him aside to swipe her own key card and watched the door slide shut.

“Shut up, it’s tricky and you know it!”

“Maybe at first! How long have you been here?” Sarcasm dripping from her voice.

A scream ran through the ship afterwards and it sounded like Brook. It didn’t take long for Nami to piece together. He was in admin. There was a vent in there.

Nami choked on her sob.

Suddenly there were hands on her shoulders, and she was looking Zoro in the face as he peered down at her with a stern expression.

“Pull yourself together. Brook’s tough, he won’t go down easily and even if he does, you reacting like this isn’t going to help anyone,” his voice was firm and he squeezed the top of her arms, she presumed in an effort to comfort her. “Besides, you’re with me, don’t insult me.”

He was trying to reassure her and in doing it in his own weird way, it worked. She felt herself relaxing, well, relaxing as much as she could in a situation like this, and Zoro was rewarded with a wobbly smile. She couldn’t help herself as she pulled him in for tight hug, clinging to him as he gave her silent reassurance, and he hugged her back just as tightly. He was so warm, and, in that moment, it made everything feel better.

After a second, she pulled away to look up at him. “Okay, let’s go! There’s more wires to reattach,” she told him, fire back in her eyes and Zoro smiled at the change.

The doors slid back open and Zoro tentatively poked his head out, Nami followed suit, looking down the other end of the hallway. She frowned when she saw a purple suit at the end of the corridor, what the hell was Robin doing by herself?

Nami nudged Zoro to get his attention but just as she was about to call out to her, the middle of her suit split apart into a mangled mouth and a long, black tongue oozed out to lick the wall.

Nami felt the blood drain from her body. What was that thing?!

And was it trying to find them through taste?!

Nami squeaked before Zoro could clamp his and the thing was whipping around to peer down the hallway. Zoro just managed to pull her back in before they could be spotted as the doors slid closed behind them.

“You alright?” Zoro whispered, his hand still covering her mouth and she realised he was making sure she wouldn’t scream. Nami nodded and his hand fell away.

“I fucking knew it. She was fishy from the moment she stepped on board,” Zoro hissed, his expression furious.

“I shared a room with her,” Nami said, except there was no heat behind her words, only sadness. It was silly, Nami didn’t know her, clearly, but Robin had been her friend and she felt like she was mourning the loss of that.

They descended back into silence as footsteps could be heard thumping closer and Zoro’s hand was over Nami’s mouth again when they stopped outside the door- not that it was needed, she’d already stopped breathing. She wondered if it was trying to taste them again and a shiver ran down her spine. It was a long moment before they could hear the footsteps retreat from outside the door, but they still waited until it was gone to sigh in relief.

“I’m calling it in,” Zoro informed quietly and Nami nodded back at him as he clicked the side of his communicator.

“Everyone, it’s Robin! Keep your distance, she’s the imposter! She’s not human.”

Although Nami could hear Zoro saying it, she was in too close a distance to Zoro to be able to hear what the rest of the crew were able to through the communicator. She presumed from what she heard earlier from the others they would have received a jumbled message.

All they got in response was a variation of, “What-,” “-Robin-,” and “-Here-,” and that confirmed her suspicions.

Nami put her hand on Zoro’s arm to get his attention. “It’s no use,” Nami sighed. “We’ll need to find someone else and spread the word. We need to meet back at the cafeteria. We need a plan.”

This situation was looking grimmer by the second.

Nami stood then, determined to put an end to this as she started to make her way to the door but then Zoro stood and caught her elbow.

“Wait a second.”

And she did.

She waited but he still stood there saying nothing as he peered down at her. He looked intense and for once she couldn’t read the look on his face, it was oddly unnerving. She hadn’t had that problem with him for ages. She raised an eyebrow, challenging him to speak but his eyebrows only furrowed further. What the hell was he thinking about? Since when did he think through what he said?

But Zoro was not a man of words, he’s a man of action, so instead he leaned down to press a brief kiss to her cheek, as if that explained everything.

Nami gaped up at him but all he offered in explanation was, “Should’ve told you a while go.”

She’s still trying to get her brain to work, wrap around what he’s just done and said. She managed to string together words after a brief pause. “That you like me?” She asked tentatively.

He’s stubbornly looking at the wall, his ears bright red and he spat a “Yes!” at her.

“But you didn’t?” She had no idea why she asked that, but honestly, she’s not really thinking right now. At this point, the words are tumbling out her of mouth without any real filter. She’s still trying to wrap her head around what’s happening. This is the last thing she expected.

“Did you hear me say any of this sappy shit before?” He’s still looking at the wall but now he’s crossed his arms defensively.

“Well, you’ve barely said anything now, so it’s hard to say.” If he wanted to be a brat about it, she was more than happy to tease him.

He rolled his eyes at her and finally made eye contact, “Fine. I like you. In a romantic way.”

Very romantic when he basically gritted his teeth through the whole thing. Yet she could still feel a blush working across her cheeks. How is this working on her?

“Why now?” She asked, trying to distract from her reaction.

“Better late than never.”

Something about that didn’t still well with her. Why was never even an option right now?

“So you’re backing down on your word?”

He doesn’t say anything but looked down at her in confusion.

“That we’re getting out of this alive,” she explained and waited for him to catch on to what she’s referring to. She can almost see the moment the bulb goes on over his head.

“No. You’re coming out of this alive.”

Her stomach knotted at his words; he didn’t mean…?

“…But you’re not?” She hesitantly asked, did she really want to know the answer to that?

“Don’t know yet,” he muttered.

This should be a happy moment. The infuriatingly annoying guy she’s liked for a while has confessed, but the reality is they’re currently being hunted and there’s no guarantee any of them will come out of this alive.

But she’d be damned if he went down without her, so in her mind it’s either both of them or neither.

And then it hits her, they may not have another moment together like this.

So for once in her life, she stopped thinking and without hesitation grabbed his face to crush his lips against hers. He yelped at the abruptness, but it was soon muffled. She couldn’t stop the amused smile spreading across her lips at his reaction.

It was by no means the most romantic kiss, neither of them had much experience before this and the mood is hardly set by the looming possibility of death, but Nami regretted nothing as they exchanged clumsy kisses. Zoro tentatively settled his hands on her waist, like he was waiting for her to tell him off, but she didn’t, instead she’s slipping her arms around his shoulders to draw herself in closer. They’re only closed-mouth pecks that occasionally linger for longer but that’s okay for right now, they can hardly start a make out session and honestly, Nami’s not prepared for anything more right now, her stomach already feels like it’s going to burst open.

They broke apart shortly afterwards but didn’t move away from each other.

“Idiot, how long?”

“Hah?” He asked stupidly against her lips.

Christ, what an idiot.

“How long have you liked me?” She clarified.

“Probably from the fifth argument, but I didn’t realise until much later. You pissed me off a lot, but I realised I didn’t want anything else.”

That still told her nothing, they squabbled constantly, but yeah, she could relate. It’d just hit her one day too.

“You wasted a lot of time,” she accused.

“You were hardly forthcoming yourself!”

“Forthcoming? That’s a big word for you, trying to woo me?”

“Clearly don’t need to, do I?” His voice was impossibly smug as his arms tightened around her to make his point, and it grated her slightly. “Besides, you’re the navigator, aren’t you the one that’s supposed to be guiding?”

“Arse. I can’t do everything, you know. Navigate, repair wires, open doors for you; you have to pull your weight too,” she countered, her smile broadening as he glowered at her.

He didn’t grace her with a response, but she didn’t mind when he pulled her back into another kiss. It wasn’t as clumsy this time, and that was probably because she wasn’t trying to crush Zoro into her face. It was still just as insistent, but they found their rhythm quickly and mouths were tentatively opening for tongues to brush against each other’s. Distantly, Nami wondered if she’d ever be prepared for something like this. Her hands buried themselves into his hair and she stood on tip toes to get closer.

All of that came to a grinding halt as another siren started going off, alongside the reactor alarm and they pulled apart. Nami flushed when she realised just what they were doing, in the middle of a crisis no less. They were making out in the girl’s room whilst their ship was falling apart and being hunted by Robin. She was mortified and when she looked up at Zoro he looked nothing but smug.

She didn’t feel bad about elbowing him in the ribs.

Their communicators crackled to life and they could hear Franky rushing through his words, “Shit- O2- down- someone- fix-”

“-helmets-”

That was only a few rooms away from them and although she hadn’t said anything, Zoro was nodding his head at her. They were both taking their helmets from the belts to put them on but Nami stopped Zoro before he could put if over his head.

“To be continued,” Nami whispered, pressing one last kiss against his lips to make her point, “because there will be a next time.” She delivered that line firmly because neither of them was dying before she could do this again.

He didn’t look convinced but that’s fine, Nami was adamant about it enough for the both of them. They finished clipping their helmets on and it’d be enough to supply them with oxygen for the next half an hour until the machine was working again.

“Roger, roger,” Nami spoke clearly into the communicator, hoping someone caught that.

For the second time, they were peering out into the corridor and they were eerily silent. Nami pushed through any of those thoughts, she’d think about that later, and took Zoro’s hand as they cautiously made their way through the hallways.

The doors behind them suddenly started snapping closed one by one.

And now the doors were being tampered with. It was trying to split them up.

“Run! We’re going to get locked in!”

As they took the last corner, just making it before they were sitting ducks in a part of the hallway with a vent, Nami could see the O2 room in the distance. She watched in horror as the door started to slide close. If she didn’t make that there was no telling if she’d be able to open it anytime soon and before she could think it through, she was dropping Zoro’s hand to sprint towards the door and slide through just as it closed behind her.

Heavy footsteps thumped from the other. “Oi! Are you okay!? Open the door,” Zoro shouted, banging on the door and as she swiped her key card to let him in, her hunch had been correct. It beeped angrily back at her; the door wouldn’t open. She would be stuck in here for the foreseeable future.

“I’m fine! The door won’t open, go find the others. Tell them about what’s going on and fix the door system, I’ll deal with O2.” He stayed silent and she knew he was about to argue with her, so she continued. “There’s no vents in here, I’ll be okay. Go!”

“Shit. Okay.” She couldn’t see him, but she knew he’s be running his hands over his helmet, wishing it was his hair. “I’ll be back as soon as the doors open again.”

And then she heard footsteps running away and she breathed out slowly. She could feel her eyes welling up as desperation set in but then she remembered Zoro’s words from before. It wasn’t over yet and he’d been right, if she got inside her head now, she wouldn’t be able to do this, and they’d all suffocate.

She had a job to do.

Cracking her fingers, she got to work on restoring the O2 and hoping everyone was piecing everything else together whilst she was busy.

Her fingers were furiously gliding over keyboards, bashing in key codes and watching bars slowly fill back up on the screen. Another few minutes and she’d be done- crisis averted. In the background, she could hear her communicator crackling with a few words scattered in but none of it made sense and she couldn’t waste time trying to piece it together.

The doors still hadn’t opened by the time she’d fixed the O2, she wasn’t sure how long she’d been in here, but it’d been a while and it was hard to tell what was going on outside.

This had been the longest day she’d ever experienced so far; it’d all started before lunch and as her stomach growled, it’s just dawning on her that she never got to eat. Oh god, she sounded like Luffy.

From the corner of her eye she could see some empty canisters, she figured she might as well pass some time filling them just in case and it beat sitting around grumbling about eating and unopened doors.

Just as she finished with the last canister the doors were slowly sliding open… except, Zoro’s not back yet and she’s caught between wanting to find everyone and waiting here for him. But then she’s just a sitting duck and the crew might need her.

She steeled herself to go out, but the lights still hadn’t been restored yet, and all alone it somehow felt even darker. Just as she’s about to leave, a spare steel rod caught her eye by the door and she’s picking it up. She had no idea whether it’d work against a thing like that (she refused to call it Robin), but it’s better than nothing.

Her communicator came alive then and there’s a frenzy of voices, she can’t quite pick out everyone but there’s enough voices to at least reassure her that the crew are okay.

“Nami- cafeteria-”

“Idiot-”

“No- engine- Nami.”

… What?

All the voices were talking over one another and with how poor the quality was she’s struggling to understand what she’s being told. From what she’s gleaned from the limited information it’s: go to the cafeteria, avoid the engine room. It’s slightly concerning that there’s still squabbling going on- but in truth, when is there not?

Before she had to make any hard decisions, a green suit comes into view down the hallway and she let out a sigh of relief at the sight of Zoro. He’d come back for her, just like he said, and maybe he’d have some idea about what’s going on.

“Zoro!” She whispered as loudly as she could, running towards him and he turned, his head nodding to acknowledge her. “Is everyone in the cafeteria?”

He grunted as she grabbed his hand and took off towards the cafeteria with him following closely behind. Although he’s normally quiet, he’s a bit too quiet considering the circumstances. She was expecting some scolding over her reckless move earlier.

“You okay?” She looked back at him, eyes quickly scanning along his body and didn’t see anything of immediate worry. Green suit intact, helmet firmly in place.

He nodded back at her and she figured the day must be taking a toll on him. She could certainly relate to that.

Shortly afterward she’s bashing in her key card for the closed cafeteria door but stopped short when it was empty. Where is everyone?

Before she could ask him, she could hear footsteps thumping from behind the opposite closed cafeteria door and she smiled to herself. So they were just early, for once.

As the doors opened, she started to walk forward and went to speak but her jaw abruptly snapped closed. Her eyes rounded and it felt like the floor was falling from beneath her.

She watched in horror as a green suit appeared through the opposite door.

Another green suit.

As in, there’s currently one next to her that she’s holding the hand of and one in front of her, that has also stopped dead in their tracks. They all had their own coloured suits for a reason, so they were easily recognisable with their helmets on.

Oh god. One of these suits is that thing.

And with that knowledge, she’s ripping her hand away from the green suit next to her and walking back slowly into the centre of the room, never turning her back so she can put equal distance between the two green suits and see them without having to turn her head.

From the corner of her eye, one of them moved, trying to slowly walk towards her like you would a spooked deer and instantly she felt adrenaline coursing through her as her body tensed. She’s reaching into her pocket then, pulling out the steel bar to clutch it in front of her.

“Back off,” she tersely told one of the suits

The advancing green suit halted immediately and took a step back, hands raised.

Her mind’s in pieces and she doesn’t know what to do. She’s in control of the room right now, both suits watching her from their positions but she knew that could change any moment and she doesn’t know what to do.

Suddenly the events of the day come rushing back to her.

Zoro had left navigation and then Usopp had got hurt.

Zoro sleeps a lot during the day and does basic tasks, like cleaning the garbage chute and heavy lifting tasks. Something anyone could do.

Zoro can’t open the goddamn doors!

She’d just kissed him- it!

Everything had been a lie.

Who the hell could she trust after this? Zoro was supposed to be it. It!

That thing can clearly shapeshift, going from a purple suit to a green one, but then, who said there’s only one of them?

Then she remembered earlier Luffy and Chopper had been running around aimlessly and Brook had screamed, and he was with them.

Luffy told them not to turn on each other.

Franky connected the vents together.

What ifs are flying around in her mind, as all of these thoughts come together. Seriously, who was she going to trust after this? Everyone looked suspicious.

Her breathing’s erratic and her heart felt like it’s going to jump out of her chest and her stomach’s rolling. Oh god, is she about to have an anxiety attack? Seriously, now of all places?! She’s about to lose her cool and control of the room. She needed to think.

One of the green suits that had appeared from the opposite door is ripping it’s helmet off, throwing it onto the floor, and she’s looking at Zoro’s face again.

“Nami, take a breath, I need you to calm down. A lot has happened since we last saw each other, but I need you to trust me right now and come over here.” His hand’s outstretched towards her but he’s not looking at her, his gaze is locked onto the other green suit that she had just been holding the hand of. Like he’s trying to size it up, to anticipate its next move.

Nami’s eyes flickered between them, sizing both of them up and god, did she want to trust the talking green suit, but how could she?! The other green suit is looking at her blanky, head tilted, and she just needed to confirm something before she made her move.

“Take off your helmet,” she shouted, jutting her steel bar at its helmet.

There’s a second where no one spoke or moved, and it felt like Nami was stuck in one of those crappy western standoffs. The one with the helmet still on tilted its head again and it’s looking between her and the other green suit without its helmet on.

Its hands come up to its helmet and for a moment Nami thought she’d be screwed if it actually took it’s helmet off because then she’s back to square one and the tension in the room can’t possibly get any higher without anything actually happening.

But Nami doesn’t have to go back to square one because it pulled its hands away without taking off the helmet and Nami watched in horror as the mask split apart to reveal a gaping mouth with razor sharp teeth and a tongue that came curling out with saliva dripping from it. It’s similar to what she saw before in the hallway but not even that could have prepared her for seeing it up close.

She’s frozen on the spot and it started to run towards her with what she can only describe as a screech of joy erupting from its mouth as it does. Except there’s another pair of feet running towards her too and she’s suddenly pushed down by Zoro as he covered her body with his. Zoro lifted his hand and the next second the thing is screeching in agony as he set off the blow torch in his hand.

Since when did he have that?

The thing reeled back, hands coming up to cup it’s scorched mouth and tentacles erupted from its back to lash out in its moment of vulnerability. One of them whipped towards them and Zoro’s falling back on her heavily. One look at him has her gasping and trying to sit up to get a better look.

“Zoro you’re eye!” Nami cried out. She didn’t see it happen, but she can see the blood that’s dripping from his eye and her stomach rolled. That’s because of her.

“No time, we have to move.”

And he’s right, the thing was still stooped low, sludge dripping from where it’d been burned but it’d only be a matter of time until it was on its feet again and they needed to regroup.

Nodding, she grabbed his hand and he was hauling her up onto her feet. She pushed him aside as they got to the closed cafeteria door, but her hands were shaking too much and the keypad denied her. She’d swiped too fast. She didn’t dare turn around when she heard a much less pained screech and, thankfully, Zoro didn’t rush her.

Second swipe and they were through the doors, but it wasn’t the homestretch yet. Nami could hear metal being torn apart and better judgement be damned, she turned around.

That thing couldn’t pass as human anymore. At this point it was more mouth than body, claws erupted from the suit and tentacles furiously swiped the air around it.

The next moment is disorientating as she’s suddenly swept from her feet and manhandled to sit at Zoro’s hip on one side. She clung to him in fear of falling off and it’s not exactly the most comfortable or stable position, but it freed her up a bit.

“I can’t drag you about as you stare, you’re too slow,” he explained as he ran.

“Just don’t drop me,” she told him, eyes narrowing in determination. He can run and she can keep it at bay. To his credit, he doesn’t even break a sweat at the extra weight, but she’d give that some more thought later.

The thing started to gain on them, screeching at them and when one of the tentacles came rushing towards them, Nami’s raising her steel bar to smack it away.

What she didn’t expect, was for the tentacle to absorb the bar.

“It took my bar!” She said, outraged.

Below her, Zoro grunted and his free hand is reaching into his trouser pocket. “That doesn’t work on it, use the blow torch.”

When the thing tried again, Nami aimed the torch and watched as the flame licked away at the tentacle, black sludge falling onto the floor below it. It stopped in its tracks then and Nami watched it slowly disappear from view as Zoro kept running and rounded the corner.

“It’s stopped chasing us,” Nami informed him, slightly confused why it’d give up so easily. Then she’s looking at the blowtorch, it either didn’t like fire or the light. Maybe it was both.

Then another thought came to mind. “When the hell did you figure this out?” She couldn’t keep the wonder out of her voice when she asked, she was impressed.

“I told you, a lot happened whilst you were locked in O2.” He took another left.

“Ah, so you spoke to Robin then.” She nodded to herself, the woman was sharp minded and no doubt, with the rest of them chiming in, they’d have worked something out quickly.

“Oi! I worked out that fire might work,” he grouched at her, offended that she was so quick to dismiss him.

“You came to save me on might!?” Of course he’d do something so ballsy and reckless.

“Some gratitude would be nice! What happened with your bar again?”

He had a point. Not that she was going to tell him that.

“I’ll give you that later,” she said lowly. It’s not fitting for the mood at all, but she couldn’t resist and maybe she needed some normality right now when they’re being hunted. Especially when she’s rewarded with an embarrassed flush working angrily up his neck.

“Okay, we can’t keep running around in circles. Where are the others?” He took another left and she frowned. If he wasn’t careful, they were going to end up back at the cafeteria and right now, they had no idea where that thing was.

“In the upper engine. They stayed behind, couldn’t have everyone running around with a shapeshifter on the lose.”

“Yeah, I get that, but why send you?” Yeah okay, it wasn’t helpful in this situation, but she had to ask.

He huffed but stayed silent, only adjusting his grip on her thighs.

“You ran off before they could stop you, didn’t you?”

“That’s not the point,” he replied indignantly, huffing. “Found you in the end, right?” It’s said with too much pride for someone who got lost constantly but she still found fondness building in her chest. Maybe they’re both idiots.

“Not hard when you told me to go to the cafeteria.”

“Don’t remind me, what idiots.” He came to a stop just down the hallway from upper engine and let her down. “We’d trapped it there and Franky had managed to block the vent but with how sketchy the communicators are I don’t even know why anyone bothered mentioning the cafeteria.”

“That vent isn’t blocked anymore, by the way, it got out,” Nami frowned, a thought coming to her, “It found me, I thought it was you, but the weird thing is, it didn’t kill me. It followed me.”

Zoro didn’t say anything in response, but he looked as perplexed as she felt. It’d attacked Usopp on sight but followed her willingly.

Those thoughts came to an abrupt halt though as she properly looked at Zoro for the first time since she’d met back up with him. He looked awful. His left eye was closed, and she didn’t know whether it was to keep the blood out of it or whether the eye just wasn’t there anymore. She couldn’t see the damage with so much blood oozing from the cut.

“Zoro, your eye,” Nami lamented, her hand coming up to cup his jaw and thumb soothing across the patch of cheekbone absent of any blood. She could only imagine how much that hurt right now. And he’d done it for her. The knot in her stomach tightened at the thought.

“It’s fine, stop fretting.” He tried to play it off and his hand grasped her wrist to gently pry it away from his face, but she wasn’t ready to let go of his face just yet.

“We’re not being chased right now; I can fret as much as I like.”

“I’d do it again,” he said gruffly, and it sounded like he was trying to reassure her about the wound so she wouldn’t feel guilty about it, but that didn’t detract from how sweet he sounded.

“Zoro,” she cooed, and he flushed a brilliant red when Nami’s other hand mirrored the action of cupping his jaw.

With her helmet on, she couldn’t lean in to kiss him like she wanted; for his sweet words, for her relief that he wasn’t a monster and that, so far, they were both alive. Instead, she’s leaning into him until she’s bumping her helmet against his forehead. It’s not nearly enough, but for now it’d have to do. He didn’t have any complaints when he leaned into her and his hands slid down her arms to cup her elbows to hold her close.

And that’s how they’re found. Standing around in the hallway, Nami cupping Zoro’s face and leaning into each other, a private moment that was suddenly very public.

“See! I told you I heard their voices,” Usopp stage whispered, eyes wide at the affectionate display.

Both of them paused, a hairsbreadth away from kissing, before whipping around to see Usopp and Sanji peeking out of the upper engine. Sanji looked outraged until his eyes locked onto Zoro’s bleeding face.

“What the hell happened?!”

Zoro groaned next to her. It was truly a testament to how bad it looked for Sanji to show such outward concern. They normally hid their affection for each other behind heated arguments and physical fights.

“Let’s all freak out over Zoro when we’re with everyone else,” Nami ordered. They were still standing in the hallway like nothing was currently happening. Zoro shot her a glare at that suggestion, something that didn’t hold much heat when he looked like that.

When they entered the upper engine room, it was empty. Just as she was about to voice her confusion, Zoro was pushing her towards the little broom cupboard in the corner.

As the door closed behind them, the small bulb in the room illuminated the rest of the crew, who were all looking worse for wear themselves. What the hell had been going on whilst she was trapped in O2?

It was a tight fit, as everyone huddled together, but it wasn’t important as her eyes jumped around familiar faces, taking in each one by one and doing a small role call in her head.

… 7, 8 and “Brook!”

“Brook! I don’t think I’ve ever been so happy to see you before in my life!” She’d definitely trod on someone’s foot to reach him, but she didn’t care as she flung her arms around his neck.

“Yohoho, this sounds like a backhanded insult, but I’ll take it!”

She allowed the hug for a moment longer but then she’s pushing is head out of the way, as he whispered a “so harsh”.

There’s a sudden commotion at the door then and it’s because Chopper’s just seen the state of Zoro. A pink suit is rushing towards Zoro, disregarding the rest of the crew as they start murmuring their own concerns, and he’s slinging his medical bag from his back to the floor to start pulling out things he’ll be needing.

“It’s fine Chopper! Just stick a plaster on it!” Zoro interrupted, swatting his hand to stop Chopper’s panicking as he started to examine the eye.

Chopper squawked at the suggestion and started laying into him, lecturing him about the danger of infections. Seeing as Chopper was no longer panicking and had started to clear away at the wound, Nami tuned it out in favour of getting some information on what the hell was going on.

“Right, someone needs to get me up to speed,” she stated and as an afterthought added, “And why are we huddled in the upper engine broom closet?”

“No vents in here,” Franky answered.

“Also, I don’t think the thing knows this room exists,” Usopp added as an afterthought.

“Not surprising, this is where all the cleaning supplies are and since when does anyone do that?” Nami sighed, but she couldn’t focus on their filthy ship just yet. Well, that wasn’t entirely fair. Sanji and Chopper kept their respective rooms clean, but that was it. The kitchen, med bay and the women’s room were the only clean places on board.

Nami’s comment was ignored as Sanji started to explain, “We don’t know how long its been on board, but Robin thinks it’s-”

“Morph,” Luffy cut off Sanji, looking far too proud of himself. When all she gave him was a baffled look, he explained further, “The thing. Its name is morph.”

As much as Nami was happy to see Luffy back to his normal self, so much so he was naming a blood thirsty monster, it was so incredibly unhelpful in the grand scheme of things. Before she could scold him, Usopp intervened.

“We didn’t name it Morph; you did!” Usopp accused and Nami was glad that he hadn’t become sucked into Luffy’s actions. “I still want Nightcrawler”

Urgh. Forget it. Of course Usopp wouldn’t be of any help.

“What happened to Rampage?” Zoro chimed in.

“No, we ditched that as soon as you left.”

“It was a stupid name,” Sanji sneered.

Nami could only stand there in disbelief and watched as the rest of the crew in front of her started to squabble about what to officially name that thing that was trying to kill them all.

“I quite like Selkie; they used to trick humans by transforming into them before mercilessly killing them. Quite like our situation, no?”

Nami barked a short laugh. Even Robin, her most trusted ally, the woman she could rely on when the boys descended into new levels of idiocy, had been sucked into naming this thing. She even noted that their lives were in danger and was still taking part. Was she going insane?

“Is this what you’ve been doing all this time? Naming this thing instead of figuring out how we’re going to survive?”

All of them looked at her, her voice cutting through their playful bickering and they all had the audacity to look at her like she was the one suggesting names in a dire, bleak situation. Maybe she was insane. She was in their books, based on the looks she was receiving.

“Don’t be stupid,” Luffy said, like he was the voice of reason here. “We did it after, when we were waiting for you.”

Ah yes, of course. She was the issue here.

She should be angry; she should throttle him but the day’s taking its toll on her and all she does is throw her head back and laugh. It’s a hearty laugh, right from her gut and it felt good. This situation is just so laughably hilarious.

“I think she’s lost her mind,” Usopp muttered and Chopper nodded next to him, looking at her cautiously.

Everyone’s looking at her as she started to calm down, wiping tears from her eyes. All she offered as explanation was, “I like the name Morph.”

Zoro caught her eye then and he smirked at her.

Luffy’s cheering then, arms thrown up in the air at his victory as the others mumble and moan about their loss. Apparently, everyone had their own name offered and with Nami voting for Luffy’s it was the clear winner.

“Right, so as I was saying, we don’t know how long Morph- I can’t do it! It’s a ridiculous name for such a serious situation.”

“Maybe that’s what we need right now,” Robin said and Nami couldn’t agree with her more. It’s why she liked it, it’s easier to deal with a shapeshifting monster with razor sharp teeth and tentacles when it’s named something so cute.

Luffy’s frowning, not budging as Sanji looked at him. “I won. Its name is Morph.”

“Nami liked it,” Usopp added and that’s enough to get Sanji talking again, seemingly accepting the name with no further complaints.

“Robin was thinking Morph’s been on board for a while because it seems to know where to go and what to tamper with to break the ship.” Sanji looked towards Robin, prompting her to take over from him.

“My theory is that it’s sophisticated enough to learn basic tasks and work out what we’re doing but Morph can’t learn complex things like language,” Robin speculated and Nami nodded in agreement, remembering Morph’s silence in the hallway. “I don’t think it likes light and that’s the reason why tampered with the lights before appearing fully. Space is very dark after all… and cold.” She’s looking towards Zoro then. “Did your theory work, Zoro?”

Zoro nodded back as Chopper was putting the finishing touches on his bandaged eye. “It seemed to hurt it and it backed off when it started chasing us.”

Robin and Zoro’s conversation held no tension like it did earlier from the cafeteria and Nami’s glad to see it. A lot seemed to have happened since then. No doubt she’d get the details from Usopp later.

“So what are we going to do now?” She’d got enough information about that thing- Morph, she corrected mentally, but now she wanted their plan of attack.

Except her question brought a hush over the crew and she’s looking at each of them to try and figure out what she’s said wrong. Usopp looked pained and Franky’s resting a big hand on his shoulder.

Luffy looked solemn and Nami hated it already, as much as his happy go lucky behaviour might irritate her sometimes, she wanted it back desperately in this situation.

“We’re leaving the ship,” Luffy said.

What? This was their home, where everything had started. “What? How can we-” She started.

“The decision’s been made,” he stated firmly and when Nami looked at Usopp, someone who would definitely agree with her, he looked downhearted but on board. This conversation had already been talked through at length it seemed. “Franky.” And Luffy’s nodding towards their mechanic to continue.

“The ships on its last legs. I’ve just barely managed to hold together the reactor, but we don’t have long, electrics are fried and on top of that there’s a monster out there making it worse,” Franky explained and as much as it pained her, she’d been out there, she’d seen the state of the ship.

“We’d have to find it and kill it, that’s even if it hadn’t tampered with the ship before we do.”

“Even then, something still might trip.”

“It’s too risky.”

Nami sighed and ran her hands through her hair. She understood but it was a lot of take on board. Ultimately, they were right. Their lives would be at risk and she remembered back to earlier when she was uncertain about how many of them were still alive.

She wanted them all to come out of this alive.

“What’s the plan?”

They’re huddled tightly into a circle going through the last few details. Franky and Usopp have prepared the emergency ship, it’ll be tight for all of them, nothing compared to their current spacious ship, but it’s good enough for now. It’s only there until they can land and find something else.

“I’m heading to the kitchen to get supplies,” Sanji informed them and Brook next to him is offering to go with.

“I need to go to the medbay,” Chopper added and Robin’s volunteering to accompany him.

“You need a helmet,” Nami said, pointing at Zoro. His was sat in the cafeteria and its current state was unknown. Everyone else’s were clipped to their belts safely. “If O2 goes out again, you’re screwed.”

“If you’re going that way, pick up extra helmets and suits,” Robin suggested and it’s a good idea.

“Someone needs to go to O2 to get backup oxygen,” Franky told the group, the emergency ship only had so much stocked into it and seeing at they’re abandoning the ship, they might as well take all they have with them.

“They’re already filled, I did it whilst I was waiting for the doors to open. Someone else needs to grab them, I’m going with Zoro.”

No one argued that and they’re all nodding. It was in their best interest to have the navigator with the permanently lost. Zoro didn’t argue it, even though he knew the reason behind it but now wasn’t a time for bickering.

“I’m going to the reactor to grab my tools,” Franky said and seeing and Luffy and Usopp are the last ones left, they’re going with Franky.

With everyone allocated to a task and paired off, they all agreed they’d meet back in the cafeteria in 10 minutes. It was a get in and get out job, no side tracking and if a pair didn’t come back- there would be a search party. No one was being left behind. Franky didn’t have many, but he had enough blow torches for one per group, should they come across Morph on their short trip.

It was then that Nami realised they’d been in the small cupboard a while with no disruptions but before she could voice her concern, the reactor alarm was blaring again. She hung her head, it felt like she’d jinxed them.

“That’s our countdown,” Franky informed them. “I stabilised the reactor as best as I could, but we only have twenty minutes before it’s done for. We need to be gone before that.”

With that last warning, the groups are filtering out of the tiny cupboard and spreading throughout the ship. There’s a shout of helmets off until they leave and Nami had no problem with that, it’d take away the element of surprise, because as far as she’s aware, Morph can’t imitate their faces.

Nami and Zoro run next to each other through the corridors with no hesitancy. There’s no time for it and at least they’re armed now. The cafeteria’s empty and neither of them bother to check if Zoro’s helmet is intact- no side tracking. They pass by Sanji and Brook as they make their way into the kitchen. They’re running past admin and they only have to make it through storage to reach the women’s and men’s rooms next to communications.

As they made it into the men’s room, Nami gets a bad feeling. All of this is far too easy. There’re no crackling voices in her earpiece, there’s no yelling or frantic feet and despite the reactor siren going off, it was almost peaceful. It didn’t sit right with her.

“Zoro, I have a bad feeling,” Nami told him as she grabbed a bag to start shoving spare space suits into.

“It’s too easy,” he agreed with her, taking another bag to put spare helmets into and then clipping another helmet onto his belt. “But I won’t complain. Maybe it backed off because we found it’s weak spot.”

For now, she could only agree with him and hope it was just good luck as they moved into the women’s room the other side of communications to repeat the process.

Nami doesn’t have a watch, but as they finish packing, she’s sure they must be getting close to 10 minutes.

There’s a loud commotion towards O2 and Nami and Zoro are shooting each other a look. They don’t need to verbalise anything before they’re running towards the sound- if any of their crew was in trouble, of course they’d rush to help.

Except when they arrive, there’s nothing there. It’s silent. There’s nobody in sight, they can’t hear feet running nearby and there’s no sign of a struggle.

“False alarm, let’s go,” Zoro said and he’s walking towards the door.

Nami nodded and went to follow him out, except out of the corner of her eye she can see a spare O2 bottle. She frowned, she’d definitely filled all of them and she’s not sure how someone had missed that one. Despite the voice in the back of her head that told her ‘no detours’, this technically isn’t one. They might end up needing that and she’d kick herself for leaving it behind.

As she picked it up, it’s far too light compared to the others she filled earlier and when she turned the canister around, the bar’s empty.

It’s then that it all clicked into place; no sign of Morph, the sound of a struggle only to find no one’s here and a strategically place O2 bottle to distract a passer-by.

A trap.

Zoro’s already left the room and she’s running after him, shouting for him to stop, not caring how loud her voice was right now. He’s almost into the weapons room when he whipped around, alert and ready for whatever she’s about to say but it’s too late. The doors between them are closing.

They’re both running but Nami knows it’s useless, there’s no way she’s going to make it through. With the last crack left, she’s throwing through her bag to Zoro and watching the doors shut on his panicked face. She imagined hers didn’t look much better.

Shit. He had the blow torch.

The keypad angrily denied her when she swiped her key card and her stomach’s sinking at the knowledge that she’s truly vulnerable right now.

There’s a loud thump followed by a silent curse from the other side of the door but it barely budged. Zoro’s trying to break down the door. It was no use; they’re made to withstand extreme conditions in the case of an emergency. Nami laughed at the humour, this is an emergency and now she’s in danger because of it.

“Zoro, go back to the cafeteria, drop the bags and get someone. Someone must be back by now. I’ll try the other door to the cafeteria.”

He had no choice but to agree and he left her with a, “Be careful. No reckless moves.”

Too late for that advice, she thought bitterly.

Nami turned to face the dimly lit corridor in front of her. Without Zoro here, it looked ominous, the shadows looked dangerous all of a sudden and every sound had her jumping out of her skin. But the longer she stood here, the longer she’d be alone. She clutched the O2 cannister in her hands for some form a reassurance and, as a last-minute decision, she clipped on her helmet for an extra layer of defence.

She started a tentative jog down the hallway, a stark difference from the quick and confident one she had with Zoro. She stopped at corners to peer around them, to make sure the coast was clear and yes, it did slow her down, but she needed caution right now.

It’s the home stretch when she reached storage and she wondered if her brain was playing tricks on her. Maybe it wasn’t a trap and the ship really was just on its last legs, like Franky had explained.

Just as she’s passing admin, she can hear heavy footsteps from behind her. She’s wanted to continue forward, but it also crossed her mind that it could be Zoro. He wasn’t far from the cafeteria before and if Franky or Usopp was there, they’d have the door opened swiftly.

Tentatively, she backtracked and as she peered around the corner, the relief is almost crippling.

Zoro.

He’s standing in the doorway of storage, looking around for her and then she’s jogging towards him, a cheerful, “Zoro”, coming from her mouth.

The joy’s over when he turned to face her and she’s looking back at two steel eyes. Not a cut or bandage in sight.

That was not Zoro.

She faltered slightly but remembered earlier when Morph had followed her after approaching it like nothing was wrong. She fought down the urge to flee and plastered a wobbly smile back onto her face to continue her walk towards it.

Except this time, Morph’s not curious, Morph’s hungry. It doesn’t keep up the pretence of a human and the moment Nami sees a mouth, she’s flinging the O2 cannister at it and darting away.

“Help, help, help,” she’s pleading into her communicator but its only static that responded back.

She was well and truly on her own.

She doesn’t dare look over her shoulder to see if Morph is chasing her, but her arms are stretching out for anything within reach she can knock over and hopefully buy herself time. As she smacked something behind her, she peeked over her shoulder and terror is almost choking her. Morph’s not close, but it is chasing her as it used its tentacles to propel it forward.

The thumping of her own footsteps is deafening, and her legs are burning as she ran down the empty corridor between electrical and lower engine, but she can’t let up her pace for even a second if she wanted to get out of this alive.

She skidded as she took a sharp turn and it definitely lost her some distance. It’s confirmed when there’s footsteps behind her, heavy and loud, and she can practically feel its breath on her neck. She didn’t dare to look over her shoulder again because she knew she’d be greeted by the sight of Morph practically on her back.

One second she’s looking at the familiar sight of upper engine just in front of her and she’s so close to the cafeteria, then the next she’s eating the floor. The impact has her face crashing into the shield of her helmet and so much for extra protection, she thought, as her nose smarted and started trickling blood.

Her feet are pulled from beneath her and she’s being dragged back. She doesn’t have time to register the pain in her face as she flipped over to watch as the tentacles around her foot pulled her slowly towards the towering monster. Morph’s grown and there’s multiple mouths erupting from the green of the suit

She kicked her free foot out, trying to stamp on the tentacle wrapped around her ankle but it’s quickly caught by another tentacle and then she’s being dragged closer even quicker.

Morph settled over her when she’s pulled underneath it and the weight of it had the air rushing out of her lungs. If it doesn’t kill her quickly, it’s going to crush her instead.

That doesn’t stop her from throwing a fist out to punch its face- she may be about to die, but she’s not dying easily. The image of Zoro’s face distorted from the impact before reforming, but it doesn’t stay that way for long as its face split apart to form a long stretching mouth. A tongue slithered out and licked across all its teeth as saliva dripped down onto the front of Nami’s helmet. It’s enough to get Nami moving as she squirmed underneath it, hands pushing and feet kicking desperately so she can shimmy out.

She cried out in pain when a tentacle from behind it’s back stabbed through her shoulder to pin her down to the floor beneath and there’s a clawed hand digging into the side of her waist. It’s enough to stop her squirming, as tears rolled down her face and her hands are at the tentacle in her shoulder to try and relieve the pain.

But the pain is nothing compared to watching its tongue slink out of its mouth down to her helmet and lick a long stipe across the glass. She’s helpless as the tongue started to undo the latches on her helmet and its claw dug even further into her side, as if expecting her to struggle.

She can’t believe she’s about to die at the hands (or mouth) of something that looked like Zoro. There’s probably something poetic in there but now’s not the time to be thinking about that.

As the last latch clicked loose, her helmet’s thrown to the side and she’s face to face with the monster on top of her (It turned out, Morph wasn’t a suitable name. She wished she’d gone with Robin’s option). Its tongue snapped back to its mouth, but her eyes are screwing shut as it stretched to lick a long path across her neck and face. There’s so much saliva that it dribbled down the rest of her face and she can’t believe this is it, this is her last few moments.

It growled in her ear, but she can’t bring herself to open her eyes, even when she heard its teeth snap just above her. She doesn’t want her last moment alive to be looking at an imposter of Zoro. She’d much rather remember the real Zoro’s dazed face after their first kiss.

But then it’s all gone, the weight’s gone and she’s gasping in pain when the claws in her side and tentacle are ripped out.

There’s a battle cry above her head and she opened her eyes just in time to watch Luffy jump over her body and a massive flame erupt from his blowtorch. She can’t be sure, her viewpoint from the floor isn’t the best, but she’s pretty sure there’s a massive grin etched onto his face as he launched his attack.

She felt like she was hallucinating as she watched the monster reel back and try to avoid the flames as it screeched in pain. She’s sitting up to watch but it’s blocked as Zoro knelt in front of her. His mouth’s moving and distantly she heard him saying that he shouldn’t have left her but she’s too busy looking at his face, soaking in the downward turn of his mouth, his remaining steel coloured eye searching her face and the green of his hair.

She wondered idly if she’s died and this was hell and she’s being forced to watch what her rescue could have looked like if it hadn’t gone all wrong. Zoro did always tell her she was going to hell when she died. She can’t wait for him to join her so she can rub it in his face that he ended up there too.

She’s pulled out of her scattered thoughts when Zoro’s softly wiping at her face with his hands, wiping the saliva on his suit and it’s the most worried she’s ever seen him; his face is pale and drawn. “I thought you were dead,” he breathed out and she came to the conclusion that she doesn’t like that look on his face. “With that thing over you and you were so still,” he continued and he’s still looking at her like she might die any second.

“Get a grip,” is all she told him and it’s worth it because he barked a laugh and it felt like they were back in her navigation room bantering with each other.

“You’re a mess,” he said bluntly and they’re falling back into their normal routine, so she decided not to take offense. His gaze does a circuit around her face, shoulder and side.

“You too,” she joked and although it wasn’t funny, she laughed lightly. Whether it was because she was alive, or he was or that this wasn’t hell after all. Maybe it was all of it.

He didn’t laugh back; the mood dropping suddenly, and she knew it was because he was feeling guilty. That this should’ve been him, not her.

Her hand cupped his jaw and her thumb’s running along the seam of the plaster over his eye. “You’ve done enough, have to do my part too, right?”

His expression instantly told her he doesn’t agree with that sentiment but before he can respond, Luffy’s next to them again.

“We gotta go,” Luffy said, breaking them apart and he’s throwing his empty blow torch down as the black puddle down the hall started to slowly reform. “You can make kissy faces when we’re in the ship.”

Nami spluttered angrily, embarrassed but Zoro just nodded and his hands are under her armpits then to help her stand. She cringed as she jarred her shoulder and pain lanced through her body. Its yet to stop bleeding and if she’s not careful, her orange suit is going to start rivalling Luffy’s red one.

“Put pressure on your shoulder,” Zoro said and she’s being scooped up to sit at his hip again, the wound at her waist facing outward so it’s not angered.

She’s giving him a funny look before cringing as she tried to clamp her hand over the wound on the shoulder that felt like it suddenly had a pulse. Zoro understood what she meant and answered, “Chopper’s lectured me enough, some of it had to sink in.” His free hand smothered over hers to press down on the wound and she’s borrowing her face into his neck at the pain. She almost doesn’t know what to do with herself. He muttered a “sorry” lowly but didn’t let up.

“Luffy, I’m changing my vote, Morph is a stupid name. I’m siding with Robin,” she murmured, exhausted as the adrenaline started to wear off and in need of a distraction herself from her wounds and the monster that was after them.

Luffy laughed brightly as he ran next to Zoro, no doubt happy to see her alive and arguing again. He tried to dispute her change of confidence, but she refused to hear any of it.

Behind them there’s an angry screech, it’s far off into the distance and when Nami looked behind them, there’s nothing there. It’s odd but she couldn’t give a damn right now.

Instead she’s asking, “Where is everyone?”

“On the ship, waiting for us. Franky’s getting everything ready so as soon as we’re there we can go,” Luffy answered.

“Curly cook said we’re not allowed on if we don’t come back with you alive.” Zoro’s doing his best to stop his jog from jostling her too much. It’s thoughtful but honestly doesn’t do very much.

She snorted. “I’m super tough, doesn’t he know?” It’s meant to be a joke because honestly, look at the state of her, but Zoro and Luffy only look at her with pride.

“You did really well,” Zoro murmured and his hand under her supporting her squeezed in reassurance.

The rest of the run to the cafeteria was uneventful and they should probably be questioning that but Nami’s too exhausted to bring it up. She’s hungry, in pain and bleeding. All she wanted to do was lay down and sleep.

As soon as they enter the cafeteria, the crew’s there waiting for them just before the small hallway that’d take them to the emergency ship and their faces shift from anxious to relieved.

It’s a short-lived celebration when the vent at the bottom of the cafeteria exploded open and black sludge poured out.

“You’ve got to be kidding me, doesn’t it know when to give up?” Zoro griped and his grip on her tightened.

They’re being ushered then down the small hallway and onto the emergency ship. Franky and Robin are at the front getting ready to leave and Chopper’s flitting around Nami, working quickly to staunch the bleeding. She wondered just how bad she must look when he didn’t immediately panic at first.

They’re watching as from the outside the black sludge was slowly growing bigger as it reformed, and she wondered if Luffy’s previous bombardment of fire had worn it down.

There’s an explosion in the distance that rocked the ship. Not only has that thing found them, but the reactor it sabotaged earlier has finally packed in.

They’re out of time.

“Uhh, Franky, we gotta go. Now,” Sanji warned as he stood at the back door with Luffy beside him and Zoro left her side then to stand with them just in case.

“I’m moving as quickly as I can!” And it’s true, Franky’s hands are furiously flicking switches and pushing buttons as quickly as he could with Robin co-piloting next to him.

Usopp’s down by her feet tinkering with something and Nami almost wanted to scold him that this wasn’t the time for that, but then her eye caught the ripped up top and fluid-filled bottle.

“Are you making a gasoline bomb?” Nami tiredly asked, her head lolled to the side to watch to distract away from the pain as Chopper worked on her shoulder.

“Yeah!” Usopp said proudly. “I started working on it when we were waiting for you three, y’know, in case.” His hands are quickly working as he soaked the top in alcohol (Zoro wouldn’t be happy about that later) and plugged it into the bottle.

“Franky,” Zoro barked.

“I need another minute! Stall!” Franky barked back.

When Nami looked outside she could see why Zoro and Sanji were panicking, Selkie’s almost fully reformed (Nope, not even Selkie’s the right fit). There’s still hints of different suit colours on its body, around the mouths (Nami shuddered to herself), but it doesn’t bother standing on its feet now, instead using the tentacles and long black nails slide out of its hands. She had no idea how something without a face looked enraged and furious, but it did as it screeched.

There’s a commotion at the door as Zoro stepped out, he’d pushed Luffy and Sanji out of the way and was trying to close the door behind him. Nami tried to get up too, but Chopper’s there to push her back down and it doesn’t take much to keep her down.

“Just go,” Zoro shouted, taking a step out of the ships door and facing the monster that’s only advancing by the second in front of him.

“If anyone’s going to be the knight in shining armour, it’s me!” Sanji exclaimed, puffing out his chest to stalk towards the door. Brook just managed to snag his suit to pull him back in.

Luffy’s frowning and Nami knows it’s because he’s not going to let anyone be left behind. Usopp’s calling towards Luffy as he was making his way to the door with instructions to get him inside and duck on his command. Sanji instantly stopped struggling as he pieced it together.

Not a moment later, Luffy’s wrestling Zoro into the ship as he’s shouting at him and honestly, it’s an amusing sight. Zoro who’s almost twice Luffy’s size being overpowered so easily.

As soon as they’re inside, Usopp’s shouting, “Duck!” and they’re both hitting the floor as Usopp’s lighting the gasoline bomb.

Usopp threw it just as that thing made it to the top of the small hallway and the glass shattered on impact, gasoline spreading over its skin and it’s reeling back as it caught alight, its screeching was almost deafening.

“Close the door!”

Sanji snapped the door shut and then the little ship was blasting off. If the monster hadn’t been hurt enough by Usopp’s gasoline bomb, then it certainly was by the flames that erupted from the back of the ship.

Everybody paused what they were doing, even Chopper had stilled, and watched in silence as they slowly drifted away from their ship. The left side of the ship was slowly melting away as the reactor exploded in on itself and it wouldn’t be long until nothing was left of it.

Nami wasn’t sure how to feel. They’d all escaped with their lives, so this should be classed as a win, but it somehow felt like a loss as she watched her home slowly destroy itself. A few tears were threatening to bubble over at the sight, but she didn’t dare look over at Usopp or Franky.

The feeling was chased away when Zoro sat down next to her, taking her hand and squeezed it.

…

“I still like the name Morph.”

Usopp slapped Luffy.

------------------------------------------

Huge respect for Oda, I hated juggling just 9 characters and he does it with an even bigger cast.

Also, sorry if anyone’s disappointed that there’s no deaths or a ‘real’ imposter. I’m weak. I want happy endings always and I can’t do that if I kill off parts of the straw-fam.

As always, please excuse any errors- especially as I rushed to get this done in time.

Thanks for reading and Happy Halloween!

#ZoNami #ZoNa #zoroxnami #swordgust #opfanfic #opwriting #one piece #zoro #nami

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riviae · 4 years

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so anyway... did anyone ask for a regis-centric character study set during his time in beauclair in ‘lady of the lake’ ft. angouleme? no? well i wrote it anyway lol:

Beauclair was a fairytale place—that much Regis was certain of. However, even fairytales bore monsters, gave blood and bone to things that were better off not existing at all. And, more often than not, fairytales gave birth to monsters in the shape of men.

The land was an illusion of peace, a mirage of vineyards and bustling cities that fed the monsters that thrived there. Where there was peace, there would also be strife. Where there was laughter, there were also tears. Where there were innocents, so also were there those who sought to spill blood. Regis had not spilled blood in a long time, but some of his more... tumultuous memories resurfaced during the full moon, the urge to fly high above the castle battlements and walls giving way to more long-repressed desires.

He wanted to fly. He also desired a drink—though this wasn’t confined to full moons. He settled on walking and humming the melody of some tawdry ballad that Dandelion had composed when they reached the Sansretour Valley. Regis could have misted through the cobblestone streets as a barely perceptible fog—in fact, it was how he had favored to travel before his encounter with Geralt and his rag-tag hansa—but his time spent traipsing the narrow pathways of Beauclair with his companions had made him oddly nostalgic. Walking at a human’s pace allowed him the chance to reminisce, to commit the sprawling array of shops and houses to memory.

To his right, he saw a row of apartments painted a soft peach, dark green ivy climbing over an overhanging trellis and up the façade of the building. In the mornings, there was often an elderly woman that sat on one of the stoops with her cat. She had a faint Nilfgaardian accent and spoke animatedly with Cahir, who, to Regis’ surprise, smiled and laughed brightly. Regis could count on one hand the number of times Cahir had laughed in his company, which was only once more than Geralt.

Without the winged helmet and cape, Cahir looked almost boyish, his tan, freckled skin and dark hair giving the impression of someone who worked hot summer days on his parent’s farm. In truth, with just his sword at his side, Cahir did not look like a soldier or even a knight. It was only in his most basic mannerisms such as the way he postured himself as he walked, the subtle way he mapped a room with his gaze, his back always pressed to a wall, that betrayed his years of service as a soldier. War had not yet taken the kindness from his eyes or the gentleness by which he spoke to Milva, Angouleme, Regis, Dandelion, and, at times, Geralt. So, along with his politeness, it was only natural that he would be popular with the older generations.

Regis stopped in front of the elderly woman’s door, his eyes shining silver in the flickering lamplight. In the dark, he could see that she did not choose to close her window, the drapes within the first-floor bedroom moving almost imperceptibly due to the mild draft.

In a fairytale, a monster would materialize from the shadows to crawl through the window. It would approach the woman’s bed, its rows of teeth poised over her, only to have its head lobbed off by some kindly knight.

The vampire approached the window. He could hear her snoring loudly, heard her shaky intake of breath and then a brief stutter. It was a moment where she had stopped breathing, but Regis was not worried. Most sleep apneas were generally harmless and he did not hear any other telltale signs of more serious ailments such as excess fluid in her lungs. In fact, her lungs and even her heart seemed strong. It was likely nothing more than apnea brought on by the muscles of her throat relaxing, something that could be treated by learning to sleep on her side or abdomen.

Quietly, and without difficulty, he misted into the room. He locked the window and closed the drapes before disappearing again, this time the dark fog of his incorporeal form crawling underneath the space between the stoop and the door. When he reappeared, he was human-shaped and he suddenly felt the lateness of the night tugging at his eyelids. Sleep was not always necessary for his kind, but it was a luxury he had been spoiled with ever since coming to reside in Beauclair castle.

It had become a habit thanks to Angouleme’s insistence on sleep being a ‘good fucking elixir to any ailment’—her diction taken, more or less, from Regis, but sprinkled with her choice of vulgarities. It was quite endearing. And it also explained why he spent some afternoons in the shared common area within their wing of the castle, tome in hand, dozing now and again on a wide chaise lounge while the flaxen-haired girl snored in his ear. Sometimes even Milva would join them, though she took to the adjacent sofa and either played cards with Cahir or sharpened her arrowheads. Geralt, on the exceedingly rare days where he wasn’t tangled up with Fringilla Vigo or taking on a contract, sat in the armchair and scribbled in his own personal bestiary, gazing now and again discreetly at his dozing company with an expression that could almost be described as tender.

Perhaps he truly was getting old even for vampire standards, he thought, returning to the present. Giving a very human yawn that he covered reflexively with his palm, Regis turned away from the apartment and immediately met the gaze of two teenagers. One of which who had brandished a small, curved hunting knife.

If they had seen Regis reappear from a spindle of smoke, neither teen acted as if it mattered. As if all he had done was but an elaborate parlor trick, as evident by the way that more muscular teenager pressed the blade silently and fervently to his neck. The vampire allowed himself to be pushed into the nearby alley and against a brick wall as the blade pressed deeper into his skin.

A few beads of red dripped down the knife, splattering onto the ground in a star-like shape. The pain barely registered to the vampire, though his nostrils flared at the scent of sweat and alcohol. The teenager with the knife to his throat was sober, though possibly high on fisstech if his dilated pupils were any indication, but the other boy, lean and dressed in black with a sabre at his side, had definitely been drinking. He smelled of cheap beer and blood—many people’s blood.

“Looks like you’ve caught us a meddler, Boris,” said the boy with the sabre. He pulled a metal flask from his belt and took a swig, wiping the excess with the back of his hand. “Listen here, grandpa, we’ve been casing this place for weeks. So instead of worrying about some elderly wench, you should focus on yourself.”

Boris flashed a grin that sent a sinking feeling to the pit of Regis’ stomach. It was a wholly familiar grin. One that he had given long ago, so long ago that it felt like he had dreamed it. “This guy looks like a fucking tax collector, doesn’t he? Hey, gramps, you’ve got any coin on you? You must, it’s Beauclair, after all.”

“I’d bet he has more coin than common sense. Only a senile old coot would walk around alone at night, ” the other boy added, snickering. “It’d be almost a mercy to kill him.”

It was, disturbingly, like looking into a mirror of his youth. The jeering, the recklessness, the utter lack of respect or dignity for life—they were young, stupid, and thought the world owed them something. Something that they had no qualms taking violently.

This is what I was like before, he thought to himself. I only cared about myself. I lived to drink—and died for it, too. How pitiful.

His inner thoughts were interrupted by a swift strike to his cheek. Boris had dropped the knife in favor of using his fists, one hand curled around the vampire’s throat while the other prepared to punch him squarely in the jaw. Regis fought the urge to snarl, settling on a frustrated huff. If they realized he was not human, he would likely have to kill them. He did not want to—bloodshed no longer suited him. At least that was what he kept telling himself whenever the option for violence arose.

Regis did not fear many things. He did not fear fighting or war or even death, really. But he also knew that there were many fates worse than death. He feared returning to the habits and mindset of his youth, of losing the respect he had for others that had taken centuries to come to fruition. Regis was not naturally kind; kindness did not come easy to him. But he was naturally good at learning through observation and, like any skill, kindness could be cultivated—even in the worst of people if given the time to change. Or so he believed.

“Listen to us when we’re talking to you, old man,” Boris hissed none too kindly, this time reaching to tug at Regis’ greying hair. “Vinny, let’s just kill the guy already and go rob that wench.”

“No,” Vinny replied, his tone almost playful. “I’m just starting to have some fun.”

The words echoed loudly in the vampire’s ear, alchemizing into a voice that he recognized as his own.

“I’m just starting to have some fun,” Regis remembered himself saying as he rose from the barstool, lips pulled into a sneer. In a blink of an eye he had crossed the entire distance of the tavern to seize a drunken man by the scruff of his neck.

“Now, now, there’s no need for tears, my good fellow,” he said calmly, pulling the man closer. “We’re just having a party and need your… contribution.” Fangs met flesh then, the man’s outcry cut short as Regis dug his teeth cruelly into his neck. The vampire rolled the body away from himself when he was done, barely sparing it a second glance. He was already thinking of where he could get his next drink now that the last human patron of the tavern was dead, adding to his morbid pile of bodies.

Back in the present, the lean, dark-haired teenager had traded places with Boris, choosing instead to point his sabre directly at the vampire’s Adam’s apple.

Again… must I always have swords pointed at my throat?

Vinny blinked, dark eyes widening in surprise. “Huh, well I’ll be damned. The old man’s got a sense of humor.”

Regis, who had not realized he had spoken his previous thought aloud, hid his own shock with a hum of agreement. “Amongst other things,” he said, voice calm and polite. “Anyway, I’d be more than willing to part with some of my coin if you would be so kind as to lower your weapon. I am not in any mood to fight.”

“But what if I’m looking for a fight?” Vinny goaded.

Regis sighed. Perhaps he couldn’t talk his way out of a confrontation. He was tempted to use hypnotism, to simply have the pair fall into a drunken slumber beside the nearest gutter, but there was no guarantee that they wouldn’t prey on some other innocent citizen the moment they awoke. “I’m sorry,” Regis began, tone and expression severe, “But a fight with me is equivalent to courting death.”

“This old fuck must be on something…” Boris muttered, a full-body shudder wracking his muscular frame at Regis’ tone. “Let’s go, Vin. Something doesn’t feel right about all this.”

Before Vinny could respond he was cutoff by a distinctly raucous laugh from the mouth of the alleyway. “Hey, uncle!” a familiar voice chirped. “Need a hand?”

“Angouleme?” Regis breathed, watching as the teen approached, both hands shoved casually in her pockets.

As she approached, her grin grew even wider. It was an expression that very much reminded Regis of a feline who had gotten its claws hooked into a canary. “Oho, now look at what the cat dragged in! Vinny and Boris, it’s been awhile, you whoresons.”

“Angouleme,” Boris greeted, giving a nervous look to Vinny. “What are you doing all the way in Beauclair? Thought the Nightingales didn’t travel this far south.”

“They don’t—I’m not a part of their shit gang anymore. They’re also all very, very dead.” At this, Angouleme flashed another wide grin, giving the two boys a wink. “So maybe don’t bother my Uncle Regis anymore if you don’t wanna end up in the ground.”

“Fuck this,” Vinny groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. He lowered the sabre from Regis’ throat with a frown and stepped away. “Ang, we were just casing some house when your uncle or whatever showed up.”

Regis took the brief interlude to fix the collar of his shirt, smoothing out the creases in the dark fabric. His gaze then returned to Angouleme who had now stepped in front of him, acting as a barrier between him and the two teenagers as much as her petite, lithe frame would allow.

“I’m sure you were,” Angouleme agreed. “But y’know what else I think, Vinny? I think you’re just out looking for someone to kill. Steal from whoever, I don’t care—but watch your blade. Too many murders in one area and people are bound to notice.”

“Almost sounds like you’ve gone soft, Angouleme,” Boris said, tone neither accusatory nor playful—as if he was only stating a very obvious fact.

“Almost sounds like I should’ve let Uncle Regis kill you two,” Angouleme replied icily. Her right hand twitched, ready to reach for the blade she kept hidden in her boot—a gift courteous of Milva after she had lost her own. “No one’s going soft, especially not me. Go find some drunk in a ditch to rob if you must and then get the fuck out of Beauclair.”

“And what if we don’t want to leave?” Vinny asked with obvious bloodlust. “What’ll you do then, Ang? Because I don’t believe for a second that your geriatric, grey-haired babysitter could even throw a punch before I have him gored on my sword.”

Angouleme cackled, a feral glint in her eyes. “Since uncle doesn’t like resorting to violence very much and I’m feeling particularly nice tonight, I’d be sure to kill ya both myself. And since we used to run in the same circles, I’d make it a quick death too. You’d both be bleeding out before you even had a chance to piss yourselves in fear. Call it a friendly discount—two quick, painless deaths. Hell, I’ll even bury your bodies so the birds don’t dine on your insides.”

“Now there’s the girl I remember,” Vinny said, whistling appreciatively. “You always had a way with words. You were all bark and bite. But now I wonder if you’ve been muzzled; why else would you be traveling around with a man who looks like a bank teller?”

“If I may interject?” Regis asked, raising a hand politely. Angouleme whipped her head back to shoot the vampire a confused look.

Regis cleared his throat. “I think there’s another way we can settle this. Without bloodshed.” Not waiting for a reply, Regis turned his gaze to Vinny and Boris, sighing. He addressed the dark-haired man first. “Vinny, was it? You like killing, don’t you?”

Vinny nodded, tone expressionless. “It’s fun. I like hearing ‘em scream. Why do all these people get to live cushy, painless lives here in the city? What’d they do to deserve a good life? Nothing. I’m just here to settle the score. Be the monster all these rich folk told me I’d be growing up. It’s a bonus that I enjoy it.”

Boris gawked at the other teen. “What the fuck? Why’re you admitting all that? Have you gone fucking mad?”

Regis continued, ignoring Boris’ outcry. “So you feel that you have some right to kill? Because you were wronged in life?”

“Yeah, I do. I’m good at stealing and killing. It came with practice. Do anything long enough and you learn to develop a taste for it.”

“I see…” Regis trailed, now turning his attention to the other teen. “Boris. Why do you follow Vinny? I can tell that you have less of a stomach for murder than him. Though it seems as if you are fine with violence… within reason. ”

“He’s a right bastard but he’s also my only friend. I can’t abandon him no matter how much I want to sometimes. He likes getting into trouble—starting brawls, drinking till he pukes, murdering when he doesn’t have to, racking up as many bounties on his head as he can without it being chopped off—and it’s up to me to keep him from going too far. From getting himself killed.”

Regis smiled sadly. “You think you’re helping him. But in actuality, you are enabling him. I don’t blame you, however; it’s often difficult to tell the difference.”

“So what’re you gonna do with ‘em, uncle?” Angouleme piped up, eyes wide with admiration for the vampire. “Wish you could teach me how to hypnotize people… seems like it’d come in handy,” she added, kicking at a loose stone.

“Hmm… well, I’ll actually leave that to you, Angouleme. You know them better than I do. Do you have a solution? We can’t just leave them to their own devices.”

At this, Angouleme paused, brows furrowing. She deliberated for a few moments, tilting her head from side to side until she snapped her fingers. “I’ve got it! Keep ‘em still for a second, uncle.”

Regis nodded, focusing on keeping the two teens in place.

Swiftly, and without any preamble, Angouleme landed a solid kick to Vinny’s right arm, relishing in the loud crack that followed. The teen howled then, the pain freeing him from Regis’ influence.

“Fuck!” He cursed, falling to his knees to curl up into a ball. His outcry was jarring enough to snap Boris from his own trance, panic flooding the teen’s face at the sight of his friend curled on the ground.

“Hey, Boris,” Angouleme drawled casually, smile curling even wider at the way the larger teen steps back instinctively in fear.“ Do me a favor, will ya? Take Vinny and get out of here. Help him heal and teach him how to control his anger. Not everyone in the world is out to get ya; you don’t need to take a swing at every person you come across. So if I hear about you two causing any sort of ruckus I’ll make sure to break more than an arm. Got it?”

With a shaky nod, Boris helped Vinny back to his feet. In mere moments the pair had disappeared, skittering out of the back alley as fast as they could.

“Thank you, Angouleme,” Regis said, smiling in his own gentle way, the tips of his fangs peaking out from beneath his lips. “You were able to defuse the situation rather brilliantly—with no bloodshed. Impressive.”

At the genuine praise, the flaxen-haired teen looked away, embarrassed. She didn’t want Regis to see how her cheeks had reddened at his words. Praise was rare; before joining Geralt’s hansa, she had only been praised for her prowess at killing and stealing. This was different. She wasn’t doing something because she wanted the praise or attention or the safety that came with being stronger and more dangerous than her peers—she was simply doing what she thought was right.

As they walked back to the castle, Angouleme gave a contented sigh, tilting her head up towards the full moon.

“It’s a nice night, isn’t it?”

“It is, my dear Angouleme. It certainly is.”

Angouleme smiled, gaze softening. “Think we’ll get more nights like this?”

“I hope so,” Regis replied, voice thick with something akin to melancholy.

At that, Angouleme snickered, nudging the vampire’s shoulder playfully. “Heh, you sounded so sentimental there. Don’t tell me you’re gonna miss going on long walks with a brat like me. ”

“…I’m going to miss a lot of things about Beauclair. Mostly, though, I think I’m going to miss all these fragile moments of peace. I know even good times must end—we still have a quest to complete, after all. Geralt’s ward is still in danger. But being here was nice. And I especially enjoyed our walks, Angouleme.”

Together, they walked the winding road back to the castle. Home, Angouleme thought a moment later. They were going home. It was the first time that she had ever thought of a place as home. There had been houses, small huts and backwater inns that she had lived in, sure—but home implied belonging. She had a place where she belonged with the friends she now saw as family.

And if Regis noticed the few stray, happy tears that brimmed in her eyes, he politely didn’t mention it.

He too was busy reminiscing--his life had changed the moment he decided to follow Geralt, to join his company and work to save his ward. Even if it amounts to nothing but ash, Regis thought, I won’t regret my choice. Here, with everyone, is where I know I belong. I don’t know if this story will end like a fairytale or a nightmare, but at least I won’t be alone. Not anymore.

#emiel regis #angouleme #other hansa characters are mentioned but it's mostly these two #can't believe i wrote something that primarily ignores geralt lmaoo but here we are #this is kinda all over the place but i did try i promise ;v;

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need-a-new-hobby · 4 years

Text

52 Pickups

Piper stepped out into the brisk fall air from the high school. As she shared goodbyes with the rest of her therapy group members, she checked her cell. Shit. 3 missed calls from Hotch. She dialled him as she fumbled with the keys to her bike. “Hey, we’ve got a case. Todd wants us in the brief room in 5.”

“Hotch, I’m gonna need at least 15 minutes. You know what DC traffic is like.”

“You’ve got exactly 10 minutes.”

“Thanks, Hotch.” Piper sighed as she put on her helmet. She raced into the bullpen, throwing her stuff at Anderson and grabbing the bagel he stretched out to her, sprinting into the conference room as she yelled out a thank you to the agent. She skidded into her seat, panting, as Hotch walked in with Rossi. The latter narrowed his eyes at her as he sat down while Hotch motioned for Todd to start the briefing. Piper almost choked on her bagel at the sight of a young woman face down on the carpet, crimson blood leaching into the carpet. She tried gulping down her coffee to force the starchy substance down her throat even though she desperately didn’t want to eat.

A few weeks ago, she might have thought Spencer had nerves of steel the way he talked about disembowelment, but now she knew better than that. She knew Spencer had his own share of traumas, that pictures paled in comparison to watching it happen live. She reflected on this as they packed up to head towards the airport. Usually, Piper, Spencer and Morgan would head to the airport together, but Spencer was being distant to her. So, she opted for Emily and Rossi’s SUV, though a little packed with Jordan in tow. It was a lot more fun than the other car though, she noted to herself as they sang offkey to Billy Joel and ABBA instead of reviewing the case file as she’d usually do.

“You know, disembowelment was popular with Egyptian treatment of the dead,” Piper mentioned to Emily as they filed into the plane.

“Yeah, you don’t normally hear disembowelment and popular in the same sentence.” Piper chuckled.

“Well, it’s true. They’d extract the intestines and the liver but then they’d sew it back up. They even pulled the brain out—”

“Guys,” Rossi interrupted, “Do we not see enough gore on a daily basis for you two to be discussing this?” Piper snorted but fell silent as she reviewed the file. Piper couldn’t stomach looking at the pictures, instead focusing on the situational details. They’d predicted some form of OCD, but with the ammonia found under the victim’s fingernails, it was more likely he was making them clean up after he disembowelled them, then slitting their throats after. She was a little surprised when Derek sat next to her instead of Spencer but pushed the thought away as they discussed the case. While Spencer and Emily discussed the small details, such as the placement of the cleaning supplies, Rossi pointed out to the group that the change in victimology from high-risk to low risk victims was too significant to brush past. “This guy started with prostitutes— a high-risk victimology. Took a year off, came back, killed a socialite. No forced entry, no coercion of any kind. So how does our unsub go from loser of the year to Don Juan?”

“Actually, as Byron interpreted him,” Spencer piped up, “Don Juan was an ironic reversal of sex roles. And when— th--that's about it,” he stammered as he caught Hotch’s stare and Emily snickered as they continued.

“We have to build two profiles, then—” Hotch told the team. “One for the unsub who killed prostitutes, one for the unsub who goes to clubs.”

“We've never done that before,” Emily pointed out.

“Prentiss is right. The victimology is so different, we'll treat them as separate unsubs and see what overlaps. Reid, Bishop, work up a geographic profile, focus on location of the murders. Prentiss and Rossi, concentrate on the prostitutes. Jordan, Morgan, and I will go deal with Vanessa Holden.” Derek and Spencer left to grab coffee as Emily leaned over to whisper to Piper.

“So why were you late?”

“I was asleep,” Piper shrugged nonchalantly.

“At 11 am? Yeah, right.” Emily leaned back as she crossed her arms, a satisfied smirk on her face.

“What’s with the face?”

“I think I know what’s going on.”

“Really, Em? What’s going on?”

“Easy. You have a boyfriend.”

“Do not,” Piper pulled a face at her as Derek approached.

“My ears are tingling. You got a new boyfriend Pipes?”

“Relax. I do not have a boyfriend.”

“Then where were you this morning?” Emily cornered. Piper stammered, her brain overheating as she became increasingly conscious of the stares around her. “C’mon, Pipes, we’re like family. You can tell us.” Piper exhaled.

“I can’t. So, back off,” she warned, her voice low, oblivious to the crushed expression on Spencer’s face.

“Oh, come on.” Derek whined. “How bad could it be? Just admit it. You’ve been happier lately, smiling more, you’re always on your phone, you’re late to work at least once a week.”

“So what? How does that prove anything?”

“She just answered a question with a question!” Emily pointed out jubilantly. Exasperated, she shoved past the two and made her way to the couch, ignoring the team as she started reading her book. As they landed, Piper pointedly ignored Emily and Derek on her way to the SUV with a silent Spencer.

At the local precinct, Jordan introduced the lead detective to Hotch, Morgan, Reid and Bishop and they watched footage of the night, pointing out how he obscured his face. Hotch’s eyebrows furrowed at the conflicting witness statements as well as the family’s refusal to cooperate. As Jordan called Garcia to work on resolving that issue, Hotch and Piper left for the Holden residence while Morgan stayed behind to work cognitive interviews with the more detailed statements.

Piper chewed on the inside of her cheek as she glanced at the lavish residence when Mrs Holden walked down, readjusting her glasses. “I'm sorry you came all the way out here. It's a waste of time,” the older woman announced coldly. “Ashley knows absolutely nothing, and we want to get this behind us as soon as possible.” Hotch nodded subtly to Piper and she stepped forward to talk the woman.

“Mrs Holden, I can’t even begin to imagine what you’re going through.”

“You’re right. You can’t.” Piper nodded and took a deep breath before forging ahead.

“I have a younger sister, has to be a little younger than Ashley,” Piper started. “And losing my mom, it wreaked havoc on our family. We broke apart at the seams, Mrs Holden because we tried to put my mom behind us.”

“I don’t follow,” she murmured nonchalantly.

“Losing our mom was horrible. What was worse was the silence, the closed doors. Days on end where our father wouldn’t even address us. Lucy faced the brunt of it all too. She was so young when it happened, and she hated my mom for leaving.” Piper smiled softly. “I guess my point is, pushing the issue away isn’t going to help anyone and what’s happening to you and your family could happen to someone else. You lost your daughter, don’t let someone else lose theirs, I beg of you.” The woman looked at Piper pensively before threatening Hotch with so many lawsuits he’d drown. Piper chuckled weakly as she and Hotch moved over to the lounge room to meet Ashley. She had taken Vanessa out because of a recent break-up with a boyfriend and the only thing she could really point out was the attitude of the man who killed Vanessa. Garnering all the information they could, the two agents made their way back to the precinct. While Hotch updated Morgan on their newest information, Spencer handed her a cup of coffee before catching the others up on the geographical profile.

“The unsub killed the prostitutes in separate pay-by-the-hour motels in Fulton County, right there in one of the poorer neighbourhoods the area. Now, Vanessa Holden's apartment was in the Peachtree District, where there's a lot of big money. Based on the geography, he isn't just changing his victimology, he's changed his whole tax bracket.”

“So, he’s climbing the social ladder, might mean he comes from a low socio-economic background,” Piper added as she scribbled on the board. “What about the prostitutes?”

“Both prostitutes were advertised in the newspaper here. Subservient positions, asking males to ‘dominate’ them.” Emily almost laughed in the middle of her update at Piper’s screwed up face. “Cuts out the social interaction of meeting on a street corner.”

“That's a long way from a self-assured unsub who hits the clubs,” Jordan pointed out from her perch on the table.

“Except he took a year off between the murders. Maybe he took that time to change himself,” Hotch asked but Derek shook his head.

“That’s impossible.”

“Why?” Piper asked.

“Well, I mean, you're talking about a total transformation here. I mean how you talk, how you dress, how you think about yourself.”

“Difficult maybe. Not impossible. With the right people and right mindset, you’d be surprised what kinds of transformations people are capable of. Even serial killers.”

“Right people?” Rossi glanced up at her.

“Sure. Whether it be talk therapy, self-help groups, books or just observing behaviour. But he’d have to have a serious trigger to have this serious a transformation.”

“You have to learn how to read people. I mean, what is a pick-up?” Spencer asked. “It's basically just a profile. Decoding cues of interest and recoding similar ones.”

“If you're too obvious, you turn off your target. If you're oblivious, your target moves on to a better profiler,” Piper thought aloud.

“That doesn't sound like something he could do on his own.”

“No. He'd have to go somewhere to learn it. A self-help class maybe?”

“Uh, wait a minute,” Derek stood up. “Come on. An unsub who kills prostitutes. Is he really thinking about signing up for a Tony Robbins seminar?”

“He would if he found a class in the same place that he found the prostitutes,” Rossi pointed out as he handed them a section of the newspaper. Learn how-to pick-up chicks.

“Let’s get some sleep. We’ll hit the self-help centre in the morning. Back to work at 10 am,” Hotch dismissed them and Spencer started packing his things slowly. Piper rolled the whiteboard marker in her fingers as she walked up to him.

“Hey, is everything cool between us?” Spencer looked at her tentative smile, wondering the same thing. After a while, he nodded as she handed him his satchel.

“Yeah, everything’s fine. Guess I just thought we were close enough for you to tell me about some guy you were seeing.”

^-^

She should’ve corrected him, she thought as she gazed over the balcony down to Reid, Derek and Hotch’s pinprick figures next to the splatter of blood. Downstairs, Reid looked right back at her, feeling a pit in his stomach after the way they’d left thing last night. He was interrupted by Derek’s thoughts on the murder. “The preliminary autopsy came back. The victim's name is Becky Williams. She wasn’t disembowelled and what's even weirder is the cleaning supplies were set out, but there was no trace of them on her body.”

“Why would the unsub alter his signature and push her out of an 8-story window?” Spencer asked, staring back up at the window, absent of Piper this time.

“Escalating to sadism maybe?”

“Gutting and cleaning are what he has to do to find release. He wouldn't change that,” Rossi said.

“Well, why not? He's changed everything else about himself,” Derek mumbled as he pensively gazed at the pool of blood at his feet.

Upstairs, Piper was shaken out of her spiralling thoughts by Emily’s voice. “Why did he pull out the cleaning supplies and then not use them?”

“In all the other scenes, the bottles were arranged in a precise order. Here they're just part of the mess.”

“Maybe she fought back.” Piper nodded.

“And when Becky went over the railing, his routine had been compromised because he knew the police would respond.”

“Or she could have jumped,” Emily thought aloud. “Her nervous system was pumping adrenaline. Her fight or flight response kicks in.”

“He’s struck two Fridays in a row, and if his routine's been interrupted, it might compel him to strike again.”

“It's Saturday. The clubs will be packed tonight,” Emily said as Piper groaned.

“I hate clubs,” she grimaced as they walked back down the stairs to join the boys who were still staring at the pool of blood. Hotch looked up as he saw the girls’ approach.

“We need to take a look at the classes the unsub might have taken, generate a suspect pool as soon as possible.” Piper and Emily nodded, and they shifted over to Piper’s bike. Spencer watched as Piper made sure Emily was secure before turning the key in the ignition and speed off towards the precinct. “Reid, get a copy of the sketch to Garcia, have her run it through Photoshop, get her to add in the different peacock feathers he’s using.” Spencer nodded, walking off, cell in hand.

Emily and Piper approached Hotch who was watching Jordan’s press release on the screen in the precinct. “Hey, boss!” Emily called as she held out a newspaper ad. “Of the 20 self-described pickup artist classes in the area, there's only one guy who encourages his students to dress like, uh, space cowboys. Are you ready to meet Viper?”

“Go and check it out,” he ordered and turned back to the screen.

“Hold on, you want us there?” Piper asked him. “Two armed female FBI agents with a pick-up artist?”

“That sounds like a bad idea, even for me,” Emily scoffed but they practically sprinted away after seeing Hotch’s glare.

^-^

Piper watched incredulously as the man in a steampunk-esque outfit rattled on about predator and prey. “Men are put on this earth to hunt women. And even though women deny it, they want to be hunted. They need it. It's part of our biological imperative as animals. And the competition the opposite sex puts you through— Pitting you against other guys, against your own friends even, it's all to reassure themselves that they have brought home the best possible mate. My job is to help you slash past every defence, every excuse, every, "why don't you meet my friend" trick that they're gonna throw at you. You may not have ripped abs or afford table service, but if you're smarter and... More interesting, then you will be a better predator, because this is the jungle, my friends. And your prey wants to be caught.”

“Could this guy be any more of a dick?” Piper whispered to Emily. “He’s practically training serial killers and rapists.”

“Great. We're dealing with a rampant narcissist and misogynist who's turned himself into a snake oil salesman.” Sighing, they passed the attendants to approach the dickhead in the fluffy hat, flashing their badges.

“Well, ladies, how may I be of service?” He asked greasily. Piper almost flinched at the gruesome eye he gave her, and yet Emily didn’t even blink as he stepped closer, simply moving her hand to her gun visibly.

“You heard of the Vanessa Holden murder?” Viper nodded as he backed off.

“Terrible thing to happen. Such a shame.” Piper snorted.

“Yeah, you look real upset,” she continued. “We think the unsub—that’s unknown subject—took your class.”

“He copied your ‘the camera adds 10 pounds’ routine verbatim,” Emily finished and Viper snorted.

“Yeah, that’s a good gag.”

“A woman is dead because of your ‘gag’. At least show the feds a little remorse,” Piper scolded as she narrowed her eyes at him, ignoring how his eyes raked her figure until Emily stepped forward.

“If you could just give us your attendance lists, it might help us find him.”

“No.”

“No?”

“My clients expect a certain amount of confidentiality. I won't compromise that.”

“We can come back with a warrant,” Piper proposed.

“Be my guest. But keep in mind, the money I make doesn't just pay for my fabulous lifestyle, it also keeps some very expensive lawyers on retainer.”

“What club did you go to last night?” Viper smiled and stepped closer to Piper’s body, leaning in as he gazed into her disgusted eyes.

“It's a legitimate question. You seem to know a lot about our investigation,” Emily interrupted, shoving him back and away from Piper.

“Last night, I was at Club Aqua, and I have a stack of tax-deductible drink receipts to back up my story. Now, you might not want to believe that my style works. And here in this harsh light, you have the advantage. But meet me on my turf... Oh, the things I could make you do.” Piper bit back a retort, instead tugging Emily to the bike outside. She muttered profanities under her breath as she walked back into the precinct with Emily, overlooking Reid’s raised eyebrow to pour herself a cup of tea. Piper turned around with her cup, evidently calmed by simply the scent of warm tea, to see Spencer storm off somewhere as Emily turned from him to her cell phone, probably on call with Garcia. She almost yelped when Hotch silently slid up behind her.

“Jesus, Hotch. Yell or something next time.”

“We need to start building a linguistic profile. Garcia’ll send you and Reid everything Viper teaches. Rossi’s coming in with a possible witness.” Piper nodded as he walked away grimly. She felt a twinge of sadness for the man as she placed her cup of tea on the desk and went to find Spencer.

He was pacing outside in front of the precinct while Derek stood with his arms crossed, watching his best friend bemusedly. “Kid, calm down. It’s just some ass hat.”

“Yeah, some ass hat that practically came on to Piper.”

“Spencer, relax. You honestly believe Piper can’t hold her own? Do you not remember the San Diego case? They guy’s gonna have to get plastic surgery to get his nose right again. Just relax and focus on the profile.” Spencer nodded as Derek clapped him on the shoulder and turned him around to the precinct just as Piper popped into view.

“Hey, Spence! Hotch wants us to start on the linguistic profile. Hurry up!”

^-^

Derek stood staunched in the corner next to Spencer in front of the whiteboard. From her perch on the table, Piper glanced at Emily who started giving the profile. “Our unsub is a confident alpha male. He is white. He's between the ages of 25 and 30. He's in excellent physical shape to overpower women and also to feed his self-image.” From his seat next to the coffee machine, Rossi continued.

“He has an obsession with cleaning. He probably works in some service industry, wiping up after others, convinced everyone looks down at him. His change in himself and his victimology reflects that. This is the kind of guy who wants to stand out in a crowd.”

“He's taken a class in how-to pick-up women. So, he'll repeat a series of well-rehearsed lines and mind games. He may be uneducated, but he's by no means stupid,” Piper added as Spencer moved closer to her to continue.

“Taking this class has given him the ability to read verbal cues and body language. One classic routine the viper promotes is called the push-pull. He'll insert himself between two women and immediately after complimenting one, He'll deliver a subtle insult, then pay attention to the other.” Scratching his neck, Spencer leaned in close to Piper. “Those are really nice earrings. I like those.” Despite herself, Piper blushed.

“Thanks.”

“My grandmother wears a lot of fake jewellery as well. It looks nice,” Spencer said as he straightened. “Ignoring the one man puts her in direct competition with her friend and causes the other to pursue you more aggressively. I was just demonstrating,” he said before apologising to a smiling Piper.

“Well, we've mapped the hot spots he hits, and he frequents the same clubs that the Viper does, so we need eyes and ears in every single one. Circulate the sketch as widely as possible. We'll need everyone aware that there's a killer out there. Thank you very much,” the lead detective finished and dismissed the group, leaving the team to start packing up for the night.

“I think I might just stay home and man the tip line tonight,” Spencer voiced his concern to Hotch. “Clubs aren't really my thing.”

“Hey, if Spence gets to stay, so do I,” Piper whined until Emily gave her a look.

“Not a chance, kid. I need a wingman.”

“Actually, there is another angle we need to pursue,” Rossi added. “We still don't know what made the unsub change his victimology, what made him stop killing prostitutes and move into the clubs.”

“The answer might be something in Viper's class,” Reid suggested.

“But to figure that out, we need to profile the teacher. You need to bait him, then, with someone he sees as a challenge,” Hotch caught on.

“We need to study his style up close and personal,” Piper smirked. “It's gonna take someone that he's already attracted to.” The five agents turned to Emily who groaned as soon as she felt all eyes on her.

“Ugh, this is really gonna suck.” Piper beamed as she guided her friend to the locker room. “Wait, Pipes, I didn’t bring a party dress.”

“Then you’re gonna love me.” Piper pulled out two dresses from her go-bag.

“Why do you even have those?”

“Emergencies. I come prepared. Always.” She said beaming at her best friend.

^-^

Spencer wasn’t lying when he said clubs weren’t his thing, because they really weren’t. The pulsing lights made his head hurt. The stench of booze and sweat made his minor OCD flare up. Never mind the fact that he never had luck with women. Even if they deigned to talk to him, he somehow managed to turn them all away without meaning to. Long story short, he wasn’t a club kind of guy which made his tight friendship with Derek all the more intriguing. After all, Derek was the king of clubs, a joke that would’ve made Piper cry with laughter. He noted to tell that joke to her later as his serial killer statistics turned away yet another group of girls. He turned around, all of his assigned flyers still grasped in his hand, to find Derek empty-handed. He barely heard Derek’s voice under the blaring speakers. “So, how's it going?”

“Not good. I gave the profile to one woman, she asked if I was the unsub. How are you doing?”

“Well, I gave out all my fliers.”

“And how many phone numbers did you get?”

“None. I'm working a case here, kid.” Spencer only had to give him a knowing look for Derek to come clean. “Okay, 4 were offered, but I didn't take any of them.” Spencer just looked sour. “Hey, this’ll cheer you up. Emily’s about to flirt with that dick from the self-help class.” He turned to follow Derek’s gaze and found Emily wearing a midnight blue dress with thin straps adorning her otherwise bare shoulders. As she stirred her drink, his gaze flitted over to Piper who was clearly uncomfortable but pretending to have fun. But he couldn’t say he didn’t find her attractive, not with that deep maroon dress that hugged her frame, leaving her almond shoulders bare, her acorn necklace lounging above her chest. “All right. Look, let me school you really quick.” Derek murmured as he gripped his shoulder. “What you have to do with these ladies, just take control of the conversation. When you're talking, what makes you feel like an expert?”

“Statistics.” He said confidently, but Derek only seemed to look exasperated. He thought for a moment, recalling how excited Piper had been after his physics magic. “Um, well, when I do magic.”

“See? See, that's perfect. Chicks dig magic. I'm gonna give you a chance to work it. Come here.” Derek guided his best friend towards the bartender. “Excuse me, sweetheart. Whenever you get a chance.” She was pretty with dark brown curls framing her face.

“What can I get you?”

“We’re with the FBI. We're looking for this man.” Derek motioned for Spencer to start.

“Does he look at all familiar to you?” Spencer pushed a flyer towards her as Derek disappeared in the crowd.

“It's not much of a picture.”

“I know. You know what might help, actually, is he has a scar on his eye right about there.” Reid pulled out a pen and stabbed it into the paper. “We also know that he's taken classes where he's learned how to distract,” he said, dragging the pen across the flyer as he spoke without leaving a single rip, “and charm his victim.” As he finished speaking, Spencer pulled the pen from the paper.

“Okay. How did you do that?”

“That's privileged information.” Spencer said, smiling, oblivious to the daggers Piper was glaring from behind him.

“So, what do I do if I see him?”

“You should call us. Even if you just think you see him, you should definitely call us.”

“And if I don't see him... Can I still call you?”

“Yeah. Yeah. You can call me. Yeah. Okay. Cool,” Spencer waved at her before he turned away.

“Wait,” she called out. “I don't have your number.”

“Oh, it's behind your barrette,” he said casually before turning to Derek.

“See? There you go. That's what I'm talking about. That's called game.” Derek said, beaming as he clapped Spencer on the shoulder, who couldn’t help smiling either. Piper, on the other hand, couldn’t smile even if she tried. Not only was her dress ridiculously uncomfortable, but she felt a strange feeling in her stomach as she watched Spencer flirt with the bartender. She turned in her seat to see Viper far too close to Emily for her to possibly be comfortable and so she moved in.

“Piper, you remember Viper? God’s gift to women?”

“God must have a sense of humour. I’d say it’s a pleasure, but it really isn’t.” Piper smiled disdainfully as she sipped her soda.

“What was it he said? If we met him on his turf?”

“Oh yes,” Piper chuckled. “Something along the lines of the ‘things he would make us do’. So, Viper, who gets pushed and who gets pulled tonight?” He chuckled at their unamused faces. He leaned in to Piper’s face, the stench of booze repulsing her.

“You see, eye contact is a very powerful gauge. It's why you tend to look away from someone you're attracted to because you know instinctively what a dead giveaway it is. But your brain goes there anyway. Images, fantasies.”

“So, a narcissistic misogynist who’s also delusional,” Piper beamed. “That has got to be a hat trick, Paul.”

“The eyes don't lie. They dilate. It's a chemical response. We can't control it.” Emily laughed.

“Kay, 15 seconds.” Piper straightened, swiping her hair away from her face. “Nope, nothing.”

“I guess chemically we're not a match,” Piper laughed.

“Only because you have someone else on the mind.” Piper smile faded immediately. “Once that happens, the attraction centre in the brain shuts down.” She covered her shock with a snort.

“Paul, I'm baffled. I cannot figure out what the unsub could have learned from you.”

“What do you mean? He took my look, my words, everything that makes me successful to the opposite sex.”

“Really? Because that guy can get beautiful women into his apartment,” Emily pointed out. “I wouldn't let you on my Facebook page.”

“I gave him the routines that made him what he is.”

“It must all be in the salesmanship then. 'Cause we've been watching all the women in the club. And not one of them has looked at you. So, who do you really go home with, Paul? Or--or do you go home alone?” Emily asked, mock sympathy laced in her tone. Except he simply laughed.

“That was really good, ladies. That was really good. Don't you think I know why you're here? One of my students copies my moves, and you're here to get inside my mind. Don't you see? I confronted my queen bee a long time ago.”

“What's a queen bee?” Emily asked him, her smile dropping from her face like a brick.

“You are. And so is every other confident girl in here who's loud when she's drunk. The social butterfly, the alpha female. Every student who's ever taken my class has had one in his life. And the first exercise my students have to complete is to confront their queen bee. It could be the girl who cheated on you or the prom date who stood you up. But you find them and squash them.” Viper’s words settled in Piper’s head and with a glance at Emily, the grabbed their things and rushed out.

“Our unsub knew Vanessa Holden,” Emily announced through the cell as they left the club.

“How do you know?” Hotch asked through the cell.

“It's Viper's first confidence building exercise. Find the source of your first rejection and make her pay for it.”

“That's why he stopped seeing prostitutes. He took Viper's class and decided to confront Vanessa Holden.”

“It makes sense with what he said to Vanessa that night. ‘Don't you know who I am? Look closer.’ He meant it literally,” Piper called through the phone as they moved to the SUV.

“Alright. Good work ladies. Rossi and I’ll tackle the family.” As Hotch turned the cell off, Piper turned to Emily.

“I may set fire to this dress if I have to stay in it any longer. This night better end soon.” They turned back into the venue to keep an eye out for the unsub. They split up to different ends of the club as Derek kept to the dance floor. Piper caught Spencer’s eye over at the booths on the side as she twirled her straw near the bartender. She fingered her necklace as she kept scanning the crowd, her eye catching a green dress a few feet away and the man in front of her holding her hand. More importantly, she caught the scar above his right eye. Grabbing her untouched whiskey, Piper strolled over to the couple, pretending to stumble as she let the whiskey pour over the dress. “I’m so sorry. Some jerk just shoved me out of nowhere. Are you okay?”

“What the hell?” The blonde yelled before turning to the man with a vice-like grip on her wrist. “Hey, you’re holding on to me kind of tight.”

“We're leaving.”

“Hey, you probably have some club soda in the back, right? So, she could clean that up. Just like magic,” Piper prompted the bartender, hoping she understood her message.

“Yeah. Uh… yeah, come on back.”

“Yeah. Why don't you let me do that?” Piper smiled at the grim man and trailed a forefinger across his arm as the other two left.

“Tell me something. A man as intelligent as you, wouldn’t you want a more… capable woman rather than some dumb blonde?” Piper asked, a smile twitching on her lips as she tried to make eye contact with her team. “I mean, who would ever believe that love line bullcrap?” The man was still tense but painted a relaxed look on his face.

“So, what do you believe?”

“Me? I think we are who we choose to be.” Piper’s nails danced from his elbow to his shoulder, desperately trying to keep her voice measured. “Doesn’t matter where we come from or destiny. I’d like to believe I can control who I am, don’t you?” He smiled.

“Why don’t we get out of here?”

“Really?” Piper beamed, tucking a stray hair behind her ear. “Okay,” she giggled, hooking her arm around his. He guided her out as Piper shot one last desperate look for Spencer, but he didn’t see her. She played a smile as he opened up his car door, even keeping a hand on his thigh as he drove, her heart pounding in her chest. She prayed someone saw her leave, that someone was following her. But no-one saw her leave, no-one was following her. She was all alone in an SUV with a murderer. She hoped that she could just keep up the pretence of being an idiot for a wild. Shouldn’t be too hard seeing as you got yourself here. She mentioned something about how pretty stars were, just to keep the flow up. Except suddenly she was in a secluded street in Fulton County and the car had stopped. She glanced sweetly at the tall, dark stranger’s glower towards her.

“I’m not an idiot,” he murmured.

“Why would you say that?” Piper unwillingly moved her hand back to his thigh as she spoke.

“Why are you carrying a Glock?”

“I uhh… All right.” Piper chuckled weakly. “You got me. I’m a woman alone in a club and someone is murdering multiple women. I was worried. I bought a gun. Just in case,” she leaned in to meet the man’s lips, just hovering above them, her right hand snaking around his neck, “I ever meet someone like you,” she whispered, pulling out her gun at the same time as she shoved his nose into the steering wheel. She pushed the car door open, thankful he hadn’t locked it and raised her Glock at him through the car window.

Meanwhile, the team realised that Piper had gone missing and they gathered around the precinct. They had extracted a name from the Holdens, Bobby, and were now narrowing it down from Viper’s attendance records. While Hotch ordered SWAT to meet them at 932 Pryor Street, Piper kept Robert in the back of the car, handcuffed, as she drove to the precinct and while the team raided the empty house, Piper entered the empty precinct, handing the unsub over to the second detective on the case. While Piper changed into a cream woolly jumper paired with slacks, Spencer paced outside the house. Hotch ordered them to troop back to the station to formulate a plan, only for them to find her spinning in a chair, chewing on an apple next to the pile of boxes. Before she could formulate a phrase, Emily had already tackled her. Spencer breathed a sigh of relief to see her okay and waving at him with a goofy smile. He also watched the smile falter and the wave halt as her eyes fell on the pretty bartender from the club. While she half-heartedly celebrated another closed case with her team, Spencer pulled the bartender, Austin, aside to say goodbye. As she left after giving Spencer a kiss on the cheek, he turned around to see Piper nursing her shoulder away from the others. “Everything okay?” he asked her.

“Peachy.” She said, smiling weakly.

“Your shoulder.”

“Ehh,” she unsuccessfully waved it off. “It’s fine, just twinges every so often.” Spencer nodded, still feeling a large wall between them. But before he could turn away, Piper pulled on his cardigan sleeve. “Spencer, I don’t have a boyfriend. I’ve…I’ve been going to therapy,” her voice was uneven, and he finally noticed her shaking.

“So?” Piper just blinked at him. “Cognitive Behavioural Therapy alone is 50-75% effective for overcoming depression and anxiety after 5 – 15 modules.” Piper chuckled. “What?”

“Nothing, you just haven’t said something interesting all day. I saw Hotch trying to cut through your opinion on Don Juan.” Spencer just brushed it off, but inside, he felt…fuzzy. That was new.

“Well, I could regale you with Don Juan, but I think you need some sleep. Want me to drop you off at the hotel?”

“Ugh, yes, please.” Despite the hotel only being a few minutes away, Piper was already fast asleep in the SUV, her right hand falling into Spencer’s lap accidentally. It killed Spencer to wake her up, but he didn’t have to as she woke up panting, squeezing his thigh gently. She shook her head and kissed Spencer’s cheek before she left, walking slowly into the hotel. In the dark, he blushed, smiling.

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