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ew-selfish-art · 9 months

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DP x DC AU: Tim had heard the phrase 'The wrong twin made it home' a number of times in his life, his parents were always very upfront about how the felt towards him. But... 'made it home' doesn't indicate death, does it? ...Tim ends up taking Danny's place by Sam's side in front of Congress to lobby the end of the Anti-Ecto Acts.

...

Tim has been up for hours passed when he told Alfred he would be resting and he's wrapped up his case files into neat little bows to deliver to Babs and the GCPD/Lawyers to do their jobs. Damian had made a comment earlier in their patrol that night about Tim being the wrong sibling to make it to his rescue and... and it got him thinking about that phrase. His parents were negligent with him, certainly, but they were always very clear about how he stood in their eyes. Praise and criticism were the two options, and very strictly limited passes of 'I love yous' that faded as he got older.

He's run his DNA before in the national databases- it was critical for maintaining his Alias' that multiple people didn't flag- but he's never searched in records before. About his twin. About the one who didn't make it home.

And its definitely the lack of sleep, and definitely the lack of brotherly affection he feels these days, but Tim just can't close the door until he's seen a death certificate. He's hacked Gotham General Hospital a million times for work, but doing it for his own gain feels wrong some how and he works with extreme caution. He finds his own birth certificate and... One Theodore Daniel Drake.

Tim snorts with a short ha, pretentious name alert and goes on to find not a single certificate of death or medical record of atypia. Oh no, what he finds is adoption paperwork meant to be closed to all wondering eyes and one Daniel James Fenton leaving the hospital instead. Tim blinks a few times, retraces his steps and then sure enough, learns for a second time that his TWIN was still alive.

Finding the Fentons was easy enough, their Lab address on all of their patents was seemingly also their home address. Danny had a much better hidden internet presence, it was good cybersecurity he'd have to praise him, but Tim had been trained better. Getting into his brother's files... Raised a number of new questions. Why was he compiling evidence against the government? What the fuck was he doing analyzing policy? Why did he have 'rogue' files???

Then Tim hacks into Danny's phone (he's learned at this point that Daniel was a no-go) and sees the conversations between his twin and his twin's best friends.

Sam Manson has an appointment with a Senator to Lobby for the end of the Anti-Ecto Acts. She wants Danny to join her, demonstrate something Tim can't determine, but he's refusing to leave and let his adoptive parents have even a moment to develop a new weapon without him there to destroy it. Someone called CW warned him about changes coming his way or something cryptic. Tim learns a lot from their back and forth, but stops reading once it gets to their personal squabbles.

Tim gets the meeting details and forwards it to Tam- If Danny can't make it... Tim will. And if Tim can't demonstrate whatever Danny was going to, it would at least help to throw around his name.

Tim writes an email to Danny- It's meant to go out after the lobbying appointment- and it explains that Tim found out about him and wants to connect if Danny does, and if Danny doesn't he at least wants to get him set up with his half of the Drake family inheritance. He includes a few personal facts, including that he too ended up adopted in life and had siblings, that he helped run a company and took on the world too soon. It takes a lot out of Tim to be so candid- but he doesn't want Danny to be too blindsided by the Waynes. He attaches a family photo with the label "you'll be able to tell which one is me'.

...

Sam is tapping her stupid, uncomfortable heels waiting for these dumbass, elderly politicians to get their shit together so she can speak. Sam was resourceful and surprisingly, the second she took on politics as a way to waste the family money, her mother Pamela was all for it. She's wanting Sam to run for president now... At least she doesn't complain when Sam organizes protests.

The door behind her opens, and while she knows its not going to be Danny behind her, a girl can feel a bit crushed. She really thought he would be behind her today, but Danny was being weird about this whole thing. Clockwork had him spooked about something changing today, and Danny wanted to be in Amity Park in case it was another Pariah situation or something. His parents had been on edge lately too...

"Sorry, I'm not late am I?" A voice asks and it's just so close but not- Sam turns her head to see Danny in a nice suit with long hair and eyebags way darker than she'd seen on him in a while. This... Wasn't Danny. She blinks, and then something in her anxiously decides that the universe is fucking with her and she will be fighting back.

"Everyone is late." She glares at him, appraising his every move. The woman behind him is typing dedicatedly on her tablet and the man himself looks like he might fall over while he shuffles his files in hand.

"Well, then I'm on time. My name is Tim Drake, I'm here to help your cause in getting the Anti-Ecto acts repealed and the parties responsible for it apprehended."

"Tim Drake? As in-"

"As in Co-CEO of Wayne Enterprises. And I've done a lot of research, so I hope you'll let me play a supportive role while you speak."

"There's no way you've been able to research if you've been out of Amity, The whole city is under a media blackout." Sam's glare looks like it could cut him.

"Not to brag, but that sort of thing doesn't slow me down these days. I've made physical copies of the things they're most likely to delete and I've sent everything to the Justice League, who in turn are sending it to the Lantern Corps." He states matter-of-factly and Sam finally stops being angry at the world to just be... stumped. What the hell was going on?

"How did you... Why?"

"Tam, tell Ms. Manson how passionate I am about human rights?" The guy sounds anxious, the woman rolls her eyes and says "Very." without stopping her typing.

The doors open and Sam has only a moment to decide that Tim can join her... He proves himself to be an asset, and his name alone gets them further than she had anticipated getting today.

....

Danny is watching Sam walk into the space via C-span, gasping when his own likeness follows behind her. What the fuck???

He can barely drag his eyes away as the clone (?) introduces himself as Tim Drake and proceeds to rip them into shreds for delaying Sam Manson of all people. Danny is transfixed and Tucker is blowing up his phone.

"DUDE ARE YOU SEEING THIS?" Tucker's voice loudly calls out the second danny blindly answers.

"Dude, I just, I don't even know? He cant be a clone right? But he's gotta be?" Danny hypothesizes.

"Nah dude, there's like, a whole lifetime of media presence for Tim Drake since he was like, tiny. This is so weird he looks just like you..."

"This is so weird." Danny dumbly agrees because he can't think of anything else to say.

Sam finishes her points, Tim submits the evidence to the court and they leave. Danny's phone pings with an email notification.

"Danny my guy, you should check that, Sam isn't responding yet. Her phone is probably still off."

He follows Tucker's advise and opening his email... Is a new message from Tim Drake.

"...I don't know what the fuck is going on?" Danny continues to say, and Tucker asks him just to read it out loud, "It's just... Apparently I am both adopted and a twin?"

"...My guy." Tucker sounds just as much at a loss.

...

Sam calls them both after Tim Drake is rushed away by his PA Tam (who she found herself admiring more and more), and is relieved when they dont immediately answer by screaming.

"So Danny, Tucker, you guys are traveling with me next weekend." Sam deadpans.

"Apparently shit gets twilight-zone level weird anytime you leave Amity!" Tucker exclaims.

"...What's next weekend?" Danny asks, hesitation in his voice.

"Your twin invited us, well, mostly you, to a Wayne Family Brunch. We're going cause those assholes have money and political influence, you're going because we all probably need to know what the fuck is going on with that guy."

#dcxdp #dpxdc #dc x dp #dp x dc #danny phantom #dc crossover #dp crossover #long post #tim and danny are twins #twins au #ehehehe could go in so many directions

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thesmollestsnek · 1 year

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Death echoes

So a while ago, i found this dp x dc post that had a really interesting lore headcanon for Danny’s ghostly wail. Idk if I’ll be able to find it again, I’ll link it here if I do, but essentially it posited that every ghost has something called a “death echo”, which is an ability unique to them based heavily on their deaths. These echoes are the most powerful move in a ghost’s moveset, but they’re also extremely volatile and draining, typically damaging the ghost in some way when used, with Danny’s being his Wail because he died screaming. The original post then went on to some really cool halfa!Jason ideas based on these death echoes, but for this lil snippet with an extremely long intro I’d like to focus on Danny a bit more.

Edit: Apparently I may have extrapolated a lot of the actual lore behind these death echos myself? The inspiration post was a lot longer in my memories. Or I might've mushed multiple posts into one mental box and then forgot lol. So a lot of the actual detail from this point on is seemingly mostly original material? I think? Idk man, sometimes my brain spits out information without giving me any clues as to where it got that information. Anyway, this post got kinda long and since I'm... decently sure this is where I shifted from summarizing @ailithnight's post to writing all my own thoughts I figured here would be a good place to throw the cut lol.

So! with all of the context-for-the-context out of the way, let’s move on to the actual context for what I’m writing cause I can’t be bothered with writing an intro XD

Essentially, this is an au where Danny is an established member of the Justice League, or maybe one of the teen hero teams? I’m a slut for eternal teenager Danny, but maybe he’s enough of a powerhouse to be on the main team despite him both looking and acting like the dumbass fourteen year old he died as. Either way, he’s on a League/League-sanctioned mission and things go bad. Like, everyone-almost-dies bad. And so as a final desperation attack, Danny uses his Wail, a power he’s never told anyone on the league he even has. And it works, and they make it out, but after the fact everyone has. Questions. And because in this au death echoes are deeply personal, Danny dodges those questions, but the league coughbatmancough isn’t satisfied with that. So they push for answers. Answers Danny’s not willing to give, because. In my mind death echoes aren’t just based on how a person died, but also their experience of that death. What their last thoughts were. When Danny died the only thing that he could process beyond just an all-encompassing painpainpainpainpain was the sound of someone screaming. His screaming. And so his death echo is the sound of a fourteen year old child screaming in deathly pain and terror weaponized, which definitely gave the league Even More Questions than they would’ve had already. Which finally brings us to the actual snippet, which is a conversation between John Constantine, who was brought in for his experience with the supernatural once it became clear Danny wasn’t going to talk, and Danny himself.

~~~~~~~

“So, kid. Batsy tells me you’ve been hiding some of your abilities, wanna tell me what's up with that? Call it an occultist's intuition, but somethin’ tells me you’re not just being stubborn for the hell of it.”

“It’s... complicated. And not anyone’s business, either!”

“Kid...”

“Why does it even matter?! It’s not something I want to or am even able to do on a regular basis! I saved the mission, can’t they just accept that and move on???”

Sighing, Constantine reached up to start massaging his brow. “Kid, you and I both know that ain’t gonna be enough. Now I know that some things are better left alone, but the rest of these idiots? They can’t accept that, Batsy especially. That man’s never left bloody well enough alone in his life”

He looked up just in time to see the otherworldly teen shrink into himself, looking every bit the child he was. “I know but... why? Why do they need to keep asking questions? And why do they only ask the ones that hurt to answer?”

A sharp glance. “The fuck kinda questions are they asking? Batman was speaking in more grunt than word, so I didn’t really catch all the details of what this power you’re supposedly hiding even is.”

Phantom shrinks even more into himself at that, and responds in a voice so small it’s more sigh than speech. “I... I can scream. And it breaks things and pushes people back. But it, it sounds. Bad. And it brings up bad memories and I don’t like to do it or listentoitoreventhinkaboutitandtheywon’tletmeforgetand-”

“Breathe kid. I know you don’t need to but just take a deep breath with me. Don’t you go getting lost in your own head on me now., Constantine reassured the kid automatically, the sheer hopelessness prompting action long before the words themselves could be understood. Then the rest of him caught up, and he had to pause. Looked up at the kid, saw just how distressed he was. A picture was starting to form in the back of his head, and Constantine didn’t like what he saw one bit. A last-resort power that the normally open Phantom was strangely reticent about. A scream so horrible sounding the rest of the league would not to stop asking questions about it. Terrible memories to match said scream. And one truly miserable child who couldn’t bear to even think about any of it.

“Phantom... is that your Echo? Screaming?”

A miserable nod is his only response, the tears that had been welling up in the kid’s eyes finally starting to fall. Cursing softly to himself, Constantine stood to leave, bracing himself for the Bat’s inevitable questioning. “Well then you just take all the time you need love, and leave the rest to me. I’ll make sure the rest of those idiots know not to ask you about this ever again.” And with that Constantine turned and strode towards the door, leaving the quietly sobbing child to collect himself in privacy.

~~~~~

I had a whole-ass lore dump conversation between Constantine and Batman planned here, explaining how death echoes are deeply personal, and asking about one is a taboo on par with, potentially even worse than, asking a ghost about their death outright. Because they are formed from an amalgamation of how a ghost died, their last thoughts, and their final emotions, in some ways asking a ghost about their Echo is like asking them to describe their death in painstaking detail. But uhhh... inspiration bug left. So yea. Side note, I’d like to apologize if my depiction of Constantine’s accent was Bad, I’m but a lowly USAmerican whose only exposure to British accents is through tv ^-^’

#did some minor edits to fix typos and make things flow better when i went back in to add the hyperlink #that being said dont expect too much i wrote this in a bit of an inspiration frenzy lol #and barely edited it after the fact #the snek rambles #the snek writes #snippit #dp x dc #danny phantom #john constantine #idk wtf else to tag this #dc x dp #dpxdc #dcxdp #crossover

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spacedace · 10 months

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Here have another dc x dp Super Serious Chaos snippet I remembered about lol

As always feel free to take this as a (too long) prompt if anyone is interested 😄

---

Ghosts and Kryptonians, as it turned out, had a bit of overlap when it came to biology.

Not much, admittedly, considering that ghost biology was largely…made up, as best as any of the League’s medical staff could figure and as best as the Yetis could explain. They were usually human shaped - at least those that had been human in life were usually human shaped - but they were made entirely out of ectoplasm, a highly mutable substance that could appear incredibly unpredictable in how it behaved if you weren’t intimately familiar with how it worked. A ghost’s biology, as much as it could be called, depended entirely on the ghost, what they thought their biology should be and how they felt at any given point of time.

Still, there were some things that were more or less standard that were familiar enough. Super strength and speed, heightened senses, flight. Fangs too, though those tend to vary a great deal more in size when it came to ghosts compared to Kryptonians. Most interesting of all though - at least as far as Jon was concerned at the moment - was the fact that like Kryptonians, ghosts could purr.

And they used their purring in much the same way as Kryptonians. Self-soothing, encouraging healing, expressing happiness or - as the case might be in the here and now - bonding.

That’s what Danny had said was the point of this purring when he’d shown up and taken stock of the situation. Elle, out of her mind on some weird strain of supernatural flower thanks to some demon deciding to try and drug her into compliance and marry her - gross, Jon was glad it had been torn to shreds, he was kinda disappointed he didn’t get to help really - was reduced entirely to very basic ghostly instincts. She’d lost human speech, lost understanding of the world around her, and lost grip on who she was. Something that could have been incredibly dangerous - and had been for the dumbass demon that had orchestrated the whole scheme, Elle had eviscerated it with a viciousness that threatened to awaken something in him if he thought about it too much - though thankfully for them Elle had some semblance of recognition of who they were.

Well. Some of them, at least.

She’d very much had not seemed aware of who most of the Justice League members that responded to the situation were and had been just as intent on doing to them what she’d done to the demon. Jon and Damian were for sure going to get a lecture later on it, but them jumping in between their out of control friend and the others had been the right call. They knew how she fought better than anyone, knew how to counter her without hurting her and how to use her own overwhelming strength and power against her if need be.

Besides, they knew Elle.

They trusted her. Even as she lost semblance of her form and started looking more like…well okay Jon couldn’t really say what Elle looked like at the time. Damian called it eldritch and Jon can’t help but agree that it was the right word for it. Looking at her straight on for too long while she’d been in attack mode hurt and his brain sort of just…slid off any attempts to describe just what he was seeing when he looked at her. So eldritch seemed the right fit, even if he felt a bit bad having to describe her as such. Elle hated Lovecraft with a fiery passion, she’d despise knowing that anything associated with him was applied to her.

Jon was getting distracted. The point was, even if Elle was reduced to base ghostly instincts and acting aggressive and trying to eat Green Lantern, Jon and D knew that she’d never hurt them. And for the record they’d been right!

She’d frozen in the air as they dove in front of GL and into her line of sight, furious screeching going quiet and form settling back down into a more familiar - and comprehensible - shape and let loose a series of chirps and trills and whistling notes. And while no one could understand exactly what they meant, Jon and Damian could feel the emotions she put into the sounds. Happiness and relief and safe-safe-safe that made them realize that some of her aggression must have been from thinking that something had happened to them.

The next thing either of them had known they were wrapped up in a whole lot of Elle - body significantly more human-shaped, though still a bit indistinct when it came to her features - as she gave low rumbling purrs. She wouldn’t let anyone else near them - hissing and growling warningly in ways that made ears bleed when his dad and Bruce tried to creep closer, pulling him and D behind her protectively - but she was at least content to not attack anyone so long as no one got too close.

“It should wear off in about a week.” Danny said, butting his head like a cat against Elle’s as he checked on them. Elle recognized her father as she had Jon and Damian and had been fine letting him close, though notable did not try and pull him in on their impromptu cuddle session. “Probably less if we can get her back to her Lair in the Zone. Having outsiders near her Grave after fighting off an enemy is probably making things worse.”

Danny drifted back towards where the League was awkwardly huddled at a safe distance, giving a comforting trill when Elle’s purring stopped and she gave a nervous little chirp. She clung to Jon and Damian a little tighter from where she’d wrapped her wispy tail around them, glowing green eyes locked on the League suspiciously, but she stayed where she was. Jon purred himself, trying to match the low frequency she’d been using earlier to draw her attention back to them and keep her calm. Damian, unable to purr but undeterred by the limitation of human vocal chords, hummed softly as well. Elle gave an adorable little mrrp and pulled them even closer to her, nuzzling beneath each of their chins in turn, purr starting back up again.

“I was under the impression Phantasma wasn’t dead in the…traditional way.” Jon’s dad said, face pinching in concern. “Or that her grave would be near…” He motioned to the dark cave around them, lit only by literal hellfire in shades of red and orange. They were roughly a fifty miles from any kind of civilization, in some mountainous location in Europe. Possibly Finland? Jon hadn’t been paying much attention outside of following Elle’s distress beacon as quickly as possible without the wind speed suffocating Damian in the process.

Danny shook his head. “Oh she’s not. She’s Mirrorborn.” He waved a hand blandly, unaware or ignoring the League’s confusion at the term, “I don’t mean that kind of grave. I mean her Grave, capital ‘G’ and all. It’s like, hmm,” He paused, looking considering before offering, “I guess the closest thing might be like a pack? Like wolves, sorta. She’s in my Grave, since I’m her Reflected.” Danny motioned towards where Elle was now happily purring again, running her very sharp - and disturbingly longer than usual - clawed fingers through his and Damian’s hair. It was soothing, even with the vague notion that he should be worried about getting sliced to bits lazily popping up at the back of Jon’s mind. “But she’s old enough to go out and make a Grave of her own, and she’s claimed those two as part of it.”

“Claimed?” Bruce asked, voice lower than usual and definitely more dangerous. He hadn’t looked away from them the entire time, even when Danny showed up.

The older ghost gave a reassuring smile, “It sounds way more possessive than it is. It just means that her Core recognizes them as people she cares about a lot.” He glanced over towards them again expression going soft and fond. “The claiming is less a mark of ownership and more of like a ‘Back off’ sign for anyone who might try and fuck with them.”

Danny waved a hand in their direction again, “It’s what she’s doing now with all the cuddling. There was danger and she couldn’t find her Grave, so she panicked and lashed out. When they showed up she went into protection mode, it’s why she won’t let you near.” He glanced over to make sure the League understood, at their various nods he continued, “The cuddling is partially letting her know their safe, but it’s also making sure they’re absolutely covered with her ecto-signature so that anything that can sense it thinks twice before trying to go after them.” Danny’s grin went cheeky, “She’s basically giving them the Infinite Realm’s version of Scary Dog privileges. There’s not much in the Zone that’d be willing to fuck with the Grave of someone in our family.”

“Hn.” Bruce said, though Jon could see that some of the sharpness had left the line of his shoulders. “She doesn’t recognize us as members of her Grave?”

Danny shrugged. “Don’t take it personally. She likes you guys a lot - you’d probably be dead right now if she didn’t, even with those two keeping her calm - but there’s a difference from being friends with someone and having them as part of your Grave.”

No one looked terribly reassured.

Possibly due to the implication that Elle could kill them all more than the idea that she’d try while in such an altered state. And probably Jon should be worried about that too, but it wasn’t all that much of a surprise, really. He’d seen Elle beat Damian at Go before. They were usually tied 50/50 these days. If she could do that, there really was no hope for the Justice League - even his Dad, though he probably shouldn’t say that out loud.

Oh well. Point was, Damian absolutely could destroy the entire Justice League - Kryptonians and all - probably without even lifting a finger if he really put his mind to it and Elle was just as brilliant when it came to wily plays and unbeatable strategies and overwhelming force.

Okay so he might, a little bit, be totally in love with the both of them and believe they were the single most impressive and unstoppable people in the universe. That had no baring on his estimation on their abilities to take over the world if they ever decided they wanted to. It did, admittedly, probably skew his thoughts on if they ever would try their hands at world domination, but only a little.

Anyway he was 95% certain he could convince them to knock it off before they actually launched any world domination plans.

99% if he had time to get Ma to make cinnamon rolls before he went to talk them down.

Not the point, really. The point, right now, was that Elle had made him and D part of her Grave. That she cared for them enough that not even being reduced to her most dangerous, aggressive state, almost completely unable to distinguish friend from foe, was enough to keep her from knowing who they were.

(J’onn J’onzz - scanning the emotions and surface thoughts of the three young heroes to make sure no one was in danger or distress - would like to note to the young man that that was also not the point.

He had the distinct feeling, however, that any attempt to bring that up would go entirely over the young Kryptonian’s head.)

“So!” Danny said clapping his hands together decisively as he flashed a wide grin at Jon's dad and Bruce, “Who wants to pack these two some bags while I get them all moved to Ellie’s Lair?”

#dc x dp #dp x dc #dpxdc #jon kent #jon el kent #jon lane kent #damian wayne #dani phantom #danielle phantom #elle phantom #justice league #bruce wayne #clark kent #danny fenton #ghost king danny #j'onn j'onzz #slightly eldritch Elle Phantom #super serious chaos #Ghosts Purr #Kryptonians Purr #Damian can't purr but he's not gonna let that stop him #Justice League watching slightly eldritch Elle fuss over Jon & Damian: 👀#Danny - trying to be reassuring: Don't worry if she wanted to violently murder you she totally would have already! 😀#Jon: I would never say that Damian & Elle are incredibly dangerous & could bend the world to their will & I'm scared of that #Jon: Damian & Elle are incredible dangerous & could bend the world to their will & I love that SO MUCH about them #Jon: *heart eyes and dreaming sighing*#J'onn just looks at Clark and the people he's in love with (Lois & Bruce most notably): yeah this tracks #Bruce: *stares into the middle distance as he realizes that at this rate King Phantom is going to be his in-law before the month is out*#Clark: You can't fake your death to avoid it I'd come find you #Bruce: *disgruntled bat noises*

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captainkirkk · 4 months

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✩ WEEKLY FIC ROUND-UP ✩

All the fics I’ve read and really enjoyed in the past week-ish. Reminder: This list features any and all ratings and themes. Please look at tags and warnings on ao3 before reading.

Marvel

Dumb, Dumber and Dumbass by tempestaurora

As Coach Wilson peered out the window in the living room, May said, very quietly, “You didn’t realise your brother worked at Peter’s school?”

“We all make mistakes!” Sam hissed.

Then Coach Wilson was leaning back and a figure in a hoodie and jeans stepped through the window and into the living room, and Peter’s heart sank into his stomach like a rock. Sam’s brother was, true to story, scarred from head to toe. He could see the puckered skin on his hands, the burns across his bald head. But that wasn’t the shocking part—the shocking part was that he’d already seen it before: he’d seen it when a certain vigilante’s suit had been destroyed three nights before, and Peter had walked with him back to his backpack to loan him some clothes.

“This is Wade,” Sam introduced.

Sam Wilson had two brothers: one was Peter’s gym teacher, and the other was fucking Deadpool.

OR: A Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Family Dinner, during which Peter and May meet Sam's family. Meanwhile, Tony sends constant text updates about his search for whoever graffiti-ed Avengers Tower.

Death Before Inaction by hppjmxrgosg

"Fuck off, Nicky.” ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ “Hasn’t anyone ever told you spider-napping is illegal?” ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ “You can’t hold me here, I know my spider-rights.” ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ “God, you guys are so old. What are you? Like 27?” ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ “Scale of 1 to 10, how upset would you be if I told you I banged your mom?” ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Or, I got my grubby little hands on the spider-man time line and fucked around a little bit. Not much (everything) changes.

DC / Star Wars (Crossover)

Obi-Wan in Gotham by hoebiwan (+ podfic)

Obi-Wan falls through a hole in the universe and ends up in the Batcave.

Clone Wars

the war has just begun by unintentionalgenius

The first problem was that the Supreme Commander didn’t give them enough warning about what they were stumbling into, when they were ordered out into it. Someone above General Kenobi’s head sent the men planetside in standard-issue gear, without thermal clothing or heat packs or sleeping kit or enough food for more than a single day. They had no extra ammo, no tents, no heavy artillery. They had barely any warning.

The second problem was that Supreme Command underestimated the strength of the enemy; it was supposed to be an easy enough job, holding the planet long enough to route the Seppies and then right back to the ship, leaving a contingent of troopers stationed there to retain what they’d won.

The third problem - the real problem - came when they let themselves become surrounded and the Separatists cut their supply line. Cody’s partially at fault for that one; a better Commander would’ve seen it coming. A better Commander would’ve had more backup plans, been prepared for more contingencies.

Being cut off from re-supply would’ve been a problem before the snow started.

Then the snow started.

I've never made it with moderation by Trixree (+ podfic)

He’d known how some of the men are with younglings—known from Waxer and Boil how sharply those attachments can form with little ones. Hell, the men were raised to be protective, so much so that Obi-Wan has often wondered if their protective drive was not written into their very atoms, some intrinsic part of their DNA.

It wasn’t something Obi-Wan had ever questioned. He’d thought he had understood the scope of it. In reality, he hadn’t understood a thing.

Not until Kamino.

Or: Not all that dive from cliffs make a running head start. Sometimes, the Fall is only a natural progression.

Standards of Professionality by Trixree

"Are we going to pretend I didn’t just find you fucking your General, vod?” Rex hisses over private-comm.

Cody doesn’t even turn his head to look at him. Rex can hear the smile in Cody’s voice when he replies, “No, because I am not fucking my General, Rex’ika. I am fucking Obi-Wan. We are professionals.”

5 times Cody and Obi-Wan struggled to maintain plausible deniability regarding their affections for one another + 1 time they decidedly Did Not.

The Hunger Games

Lover & Loner by amateurwordbender

Haymitch once told him that he’s a survivor. It hadn’t been a compliment; he’d slurred out the words in pity after finding Finnick shaking apart from a panic attack.

Jo’s a survivor, too.

(Finnick and Johanna, from the moment they meet to the bitter end)

Original Works

for the want of a jewel by FormlessVoidbeast

With his country fallen to the unstoppable tide of the Dread Warlord, a terrified king sends a peace offering of his own flesh and blood in the hopes of buying leniency.

When Prince Damian of Miska is accepted as the symbol of his country's surrender and immediately wedded to the Warlord, he expects his fate to be both painful and humiliating, and his death inevitable. To his confusion, the Warlord and his terrible Warlock seem to have no interest in abusing that which they have claimed as their own. As Damian finds his feet and gains friends in a new land, he begins to question everything he once thought was true.

But some jewels were never meant to be sold, and the consequences of Damian's sacrifice are more far-reaching than anyone expected.

#i have also been in the trenches of hunger games fic over the past week #i've been in dark fandoms before and read a lot of heavy content #but hoo boy the hunger games fandom is BLEAK #my posts #weekly fic round up #fic recs #marvel recs #sw recs #original works recs #misc recs #hunger games recs

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petite-phthora · 9 months

Text

Nova... after a supernova

[DP x DC fic]

[Love at first... murder? - part 7]

<< Prev | Next >>

Part 1

Ao3

---

In-chat nicknames:

OGnerd = Jason

BatDad = Bruce

Discowing = Dick

BloodSon = Damian

TheHotOne = Steph

TheCuteOne = Cass

Omnipotent = Babs

Flashlight = Duke

---

Clockwork watches as the scenes unfold from the screen in front of him, a fond smile on his face.

He chuckles at the awkward farewell young Danny leaves one of Gotham’s Knights with.

However, as his gaze turns to one of the other screens, his expression switches from amused fondness to one of contemplation.

As he watches the recently deceased manic clown cackle his head off at the revelation of his newly ghostly existence, Clockwork can do no more than let out a weary sigh.

As much as he would like to interfere so young Danny would not have to deal with this endeavor, alas, he is not allowed.

Regardless, he muses, Danny will be able to handle it quite well on his own. Clockwork has complete confidence in him, as he gazes at the many timelines that may yet come to pass.

It will all work out in the end...

---

After taking some deep breaths to calm himself somewhat, Jason puts his glove back on before getting back on his motorcycle and leaving the apartment building behind.

He should probably use the rest of the night to sleep, as it’s already quite late.

However, not too long after he leaves he starts feeling eyes on him. He's being watched, and he has a pretty good guess of just who it could be...

And that guess is confirmed when he sees the shadows moving across the rooftops.

Of course, they followed the tracker to find out what he's up to even after he told them not to follow

He lets out an irritated sigh as he revs the engine and makes his motorcycle pick up more speed. At this point he’s most likely going way over the speed limit but, it’s Gotham, so no one’s gonna care.

At least they only just found him and started following him, rather than when he was still with Danny. Small mercies…

Though, he notes with mild curiosity, interestingly enough Replacement doesn’t seem to be with them.

Jason decides not to jinx his luck by questioning it, for now. Tim’s probably just overworking himself on a case again while doped up on so much of his awful Red Bull, Monster, and coffee mixture monstrosity that he should’ve had a caffeine overdose by now 3 times over.

Either way, Jason’s so not in the mood for their questions

Jason wants to keep his family as far away from Danny as possible, for as long as he can. And not just because of their not date, but he wants to help Danny keep people off his back about the murder of the Joker.

While, as he has mentioned to Danny before, most people will probably celebrate his death more than anything, he wants to spare Danny from B’s disappointment and his 5 hour long morals speech at the very least.

At that point, Jason decides to try to throw his stalkers off by making some unexpected, sharp turns and using a lot of alleys. He avoids the cameras and makes a point to also disable the cam and tracker the Bats ‘sneakily’ left in his helmet, again.

…

After spelling out ‘Fuck off’ with the tracker’s path on the map.

Luckily for him, Jason has just made it to Crime Alley, which is his turf. He knows his way around better than the furry brigade that's still following him does and he’ll gladly use this to his advantage.

With a small grumble that's muffled due to his helmet, he decides to try another more blunt method to try and dissuade them from following him.

Or, at the very least, distract them so that he has an easier time getting away.

---

0 days without the Joker breaking out of Arkham

OGnerd: Stop stalking me.

BatDad: Don’t text and drive.

OGnerd: It's speech to text. Dumbass.

Discowing: Jason!! 😃 What’s up, Little Wing? 🐦 Sooo, why didn’t you patrol tonight?? 👀

OGnerd: That's none of your business dick wad. Fuck off.

OGnerd: What part of don’t follow me did you not understand.

Discowing: I just wanted to catch up with my little brother!! 😁 Is that too much to ask? 🥺

BloodSon: Todd. Who are you courting?

Discowing: Dami!! 😠 I wanted to ease him into it before bombarding him with questions 😩

TheHotOne: no damian id rite

TheHotOne: we ned a more direct aproch >:)

TheHotOne: so jayyyyyyy, whos ur mystery boo ;)

TheHotOne: dont worry u can tell m privtely ^-^

TheHotOne: i wnt tell, scuts honor o7

TheCuteOne: scuts

Omnipotent: scuts

Discowing: Scuts

Flashlight: scuts

Flashlight: Wait, you were a scout??

TheHotOne: no <3

OGnerd: I was just following up on a lead on a case I’ve been working on.

OGnerd: Besides, shouldn’t you all be focusing on finding that clown freak instead of stalking me after I explicitly said not to.

Omnipotent: Do you buy flowers for all of your ‘leads’ or are those just for the cute ones? 🤨

Discowing: Oh!!!! 😲 He got them flowers?? 🌼 That’s so cute! 🥰 I didn’t take you for such a romantic, Jay 😉

BloodSon: Considering Todd’s reading material it should not have come as much of a surprise, Richard.

BatDad: Red Hood, what do you know about the disappearance of the Joker?

BatDad: Is the person you were meeting with involved?

OGnerd: Nothing and no. Now leave me alone.

OGnerd: Middle finger emoji.

~ OGnerd changed the name of BatDad to WhyDoesClarkCallYouBabyGirl ~

~ OGnerd locked the name of WhyDoesClarkCallYouBabyGirl ~

WhyDoesClarkCallYouBabyGirl: Red Hood, this is extremely immature.

WhyDoesClarkCallYouBabyGirl: Change my name back and come to the cave for a meeting, now.

WhyDoesClarkCallYouBabyGirl: That was a misunderstanding and you know it.

---

Jason turns his phone back off and mutes the chat once again. He managed to throw them off of his trail a bit ago and just now reached his apartment.

They know where he lives, yes, but it seems that they had finally noticed how not in the mood he was and decided to make the smart decision to give up and leave him the hell alone. For now at least…

Jason wouldn’t be surprised if they showed up at his apartment tomorrow anyway. But the metal baseball bat by the door and the gun in his holster should help.

After getting inside he changes out of his clothes and takes his time taking a shower. After getting out, drying off, and putting on something comfortable he practically collapses onto the couch.

His eyes fall onto the faded number sequence still scribbled on his hand. With a small smile on his face, while thinking of the person who wrote it, he takes his phone back out again and makes a new contact.

While he’d love to call it some sappy shit like ‘Danny <3’, he knows his family and it has enough hackers in it that he’d rather make the contact name a bit less obviously stand out.

It takes a while, but after thinking back on Danny’s space rambles earlier that evening in the observatory, Jason settles on a contact name.

He names it Nova, after a supernova.

He doesn’t know how right he is.

---

Taglist:

@i-always-say-yea @uraniumwizard @why-must-i-be-like-this @griffinthing

#dp x dc #dp x dc fic #dpxdc #dcxdp #dc x dp #dp x dc crossover #dead on main #dead on main ship #sorry for the awfully long wait #got busy with college #and then i got a bit of a writer's block #but!!! this is not abandoned!!#uploading will just take me a bit long #to make up for the last long wait #im posting like 5-6 chapters in a row #also by now oracle has hacked the cams from before equipment around jason had gone crazy #and so she saw footage of him getting the flowers #steph is the one who gave herself and cass matching nicknames :)

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drawingjester00 · 2 years

Text

A small sample of the DC x DP fic I'm working on. It's a Damian/Danny (Dead Serious) fic

Danny wonders why these things always happen to him. This was just supposed to be an end-of-year trip to Gotham. One week he didn't have to fight ghouls or deal with Vlad's fruitloopiness. The universe hated him. At least that's the only conclusion that makes sense.

It started at one of Gotham's museums. Everything was great. They were looking at old stuff and he was joking around with Tucker and Sam. Then his ghost sense went off because of course.

It wasn't a surprise to see a few ghosts come in and start wreaking havoc. How did they know where to find him? He quickly got his answer when he saw Vlad. Vlad grabbed a random kid and fled. Sam and Tucker reassured him they got the other ghost to go after Vlad.

Damian was ready to body slam this vampire-looking man. Who the hell was he and where did he come from? The man turned them both intangible, going through several walls before ending up in a mostly empty room. The man tied up his wrist and ankles but left him otherwise unrestrained. Damian was able to press the call button on his watch.

"Hey vampire, you're a long ways away from Transylvania." Damian snarked.

"I'm not a vampire you insolent brat."

Damian rolled his eyes, "Then maybe you shouldn't dress like one."

Vlad went to retort but was tackled by Danny flying through the wall. Damian would have been surprised if weird shit didn't happen to him on the daily but still he had to put on a performance.

Damian looked at the fighting pair deadpan, "oh wow gee looks like I'm in quite a jam."

By the time Vlad was sucked into the phantom thermos Damian had already freed himself. Danny looked at the kid bewildered.

"You know staring is rude."

Danny scoffed, "I wasn't staring. Who the hell are you? What did Vlad want with you?"

"I have no clue. You came in before his villainous monologue," Damian paused before snickering, "is his name really Vlad? Like Vlad the Impaler, the original Dracula."

Danny can't believe he hadn't made that connection himself. He couldn't help but laugh. Damian raised a brow.

When Danny calmed he looked at the kid, "So kid are you hurt?"

"I would think that's the first thing you would have checked for. I could have bled to death while you went hysterical."

"Since when did twelve-year-olds get so snarky."

"I'm not twelve! I'm sixteen!"

"But you're so small."

"You are only a few inches taller than me. I'm also still tall enough to kick your ass. Who are you anyway? Batman doesn't like metas in his city."

"A what now?"

"A meta," a big man stepped out from the darkness, "You okay Damian?"

"Yeah, hood. Is it just you?"

"For now, yes," Red Hood looked at Danny, "who are you kid and why are you in Gotham."

"I'm Phantom and I'm supposed to be on a school trip but one of my arch nemesis found me but I stopped him so I should get going."

"I should go back to Hood. I'm fine and I'm sure the ghost boy would be willing to bring me back."

"Uh yeah sure let's go." Danny flew off.

Red Hood lowered himself and whispered, "keep an eye on him. If you have a tracker, use it."

"I'm not an idiot. I was already planning on it."

Danny flew back into the room, "you coming?"

"Are you gonna walk 'cause I certainly can't fly or phase through walls."

"Oh yeah. Let me just, " Danny scooped Damian up in a bridal style, "there we go. You ready now?"

Red Hood snickered as Damian turned red, squawking at the poor kid holding him.

"Put me down! Don't manhandle me!"

"Sorry but this is the quickest way."

Danny rushed off. Damian scowled like an angry cat. Danny chuckled, causing the other to start another rant full of foul language. Finally, Danny landed. Sam and Tucker were there waiting.

Sam gave him a confused expression, "Why are you carrying the youngest Wayne."

"Who?"

"Me dumbass! Put me down!" Damian squirmed.

Danny set him down. Damian adjusted his expensive uniform muttering. Sam grabbed Danny by the ear and pulled him aside.

She whispered," What are you doing carrying the Wayne kid."

"Vlad had him. Plus I still don't know who Wayne is."

"Wayne as in Bruce Wayne, " Sam pinched the bridge of her nose as Danny stared at her blankly, "Wayne as in Wayne Tech Industries."

"Oh… ohhhh. So maybe Vlad had him for some rich guy reason."

"We should keep an eye on him. He is just some pampered rich kid."

Danny nodded and went back over. He was surprised to see the kid was still there. He shuffled uncomfortably, unsure what to do from here. What he didn't see coming was the quick peck to his cheek followed by a growled thank you. Moments later the kid was gone.

Tucker grinned, "look at you, Danny. You just get all the rich babes don't you?"

"It was just a hero kiss," Sam waved her hand in front of Danny's face, "you still there."

"Yeah yeah just wasn't expecting that."

"Go change and catch up with the class."

"Good idea."

That night Danny patrolled the city. Gotham was a whole different beast at night. It was still busy, the lights were bright and the people were completely unfazed. He decided to take a break in the park. Not even five minutes he was being dragged by a vine. Now he was upside down face to face with a pretty green skin lady.

"Whatcha got there?" The blonde lady next to her asked.

"I think this is the mystery meta that Red Hood was talking about."

"He's a cutie ain't he? What do you think we should do with him?"

"Interrogate. Why are you flying around our city?"

Danny gulped, "just making sure none of the ghosts from the attack earlier weren't causing more chaos."

"Responsible young man aren't ya."

"Look I don't want no trouble I have enough of that —"

"Ivy put him down," A boy came down from the tree tops dressed in a costume, "he hasn't done anything wrong yet."

Ivy hesitated but she dropped him. Danny landed with an oof.

"You spooky kid come here."

Danny hesitated but went over. The kid narrowed his eyes and clicked his tongue.

"Of course it's you. I heard about you," Damian walked over to Ivy, "I will deal with this," he gestures to Danny before putting his hands on his hips, "Isn't tonight date night?"

Harley smiles, "it sure is. Let's go Ives I think we can still make our dinner reservations."

Ivy grabbed Harley's hand, " be careful kiddo." She and Harley left the two vigilantes.

Damian went back over to Danny who just looked confused. So much happened in the past few minutes and he wasn't able to process it.

"You kid, what the hell do you think you're doing?"

"Uh patrolling."

"Gotham already has its team of heroes. We don't need you stirring the pot."

"I'm trying to help. I don't think Gotham's heroes know how to deal with ghosts."

"You don't know anything about Gotham."

"You know you're right. How do I know you're not a villain?"

"Because you would be in big trouble already. You're lucky those two are reformed."

"I guess you're part of Batman's crew although you're pretty short. I'm surprised the big bad Batman lets you out past curfew." Danny smirked.

Damian growled, "you better watch it, ghost boy."

"Oo did I strike a nerve."

Damian scowled and swung. Danny faked a yawn and went intangible. Damian ended up stumbling. He was quickly getting irritated. Damian tries to land a few more hits.

Danny laughed and pinched Damian's cheek, "so cute."

"I'm not cute. I'm gonna figure out what exactly you are and then I'm gonna kick your ass."

Before he could get another word in his ghost sense went off. It was the box ghost being annoying as fuck. Danny rolled his eyes before swiftly kicking his ass. Damian watched amused. Once the box ghost was away Danny was again at Damian's side.

"I didn't recognize that villain but you did adequately I guess."

"That's 'cause he is one of mine. He's a ghost."

"So you're both ghosts. Did you," Damian paused, "did you die?"

"Yeah, kinda I guess. I never thought about it that way."

"That is never easy."

"You say that like you have experienced dying."

Damian stayed quiet. Danny looked at him and was shocked. This boy had experienced death; his silence was answer enough. A million questions ran through his head but he shook his thoughts away and just hugged Damian.

"I don't know how that is possible but I'm not gonna question it."

Damian tense. It was weird the ghost boy felt so cold but it was comforting. Danny pulled away leaving a confused and blushing Damian. Damian was still standing there when Nightwing arrived.

#dp x dc #batfam shenanigans #danny fenton #batboys #dead serious #danny x damian #damian x danny #fiction #crossover #damian wayne #danny phantom #danny phandom

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justwannabecat · 1 year

Text

If the Spirit of Gotham changes appearance depending on influences from within, then I say let her look like a more androgynous Bruce Wayne.

And, if this is a DP/DC crossover, then let her meet Danny.

And, because of the Fenton Luck, let him meet the real Bruce Wayne.

And, because he’s kind of a dumbass sometimes, let Danny assume that Bruce Wayne is Gotham in a more mortal form, attempting to improve herself from within.

I wanna see what happens.

#dc x dp #dp x dc #danny phantom #danny fenton #batman #I vote that she can choose what she wears tho #because she hates all the rogues crawling around #so she just changes into the people she favors #the fact that she looks like an androgynous Bruce is because #he has so many children #most of them with the same features #it all blends together #but Brucie has the most influence because everything started with him #Danny don’t just spill all your biggest secrets like that #Danny Bruce Wayne isn’t the Spirit of Gotham #Danny no #Oh god he has AirPods in he can’t hear us

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littlefankingdom · 1 month

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~ Nightwing (2016)

Bruce gets worried if he doesn't have any news of his children frequently, even Dick who is nearly 30 years old. He needs to know they are alive and well. Also, it's a deep worry he cannot hide from the public, and this man is a master of the art of "hiding your emotions".

When Dick is mad at Bruce, he still send news to Alfred, because Alfred worries too. If Dick isn't checking in with Alfred, that means he is talking to Bruce (at this moment in this issue, Dick is drugged and unconscious)

It's also when he is mad at Bruce that Dick gets in bigger troubles, and is too stubborn and angry to ask for help, which make the worries worse. Bruce knows it his own fault if his son gets in danger but doesn't call him.

Bruce is a dumbass that has difficulties letting his children go, and cannot communicate to save his life, but we knew that.

Where is the Bat make-up line, DC? After the Batliner, the Batshadow, now the Brucie Foundation.

#dick grayson #nightwing #alfred pennyworth #bruce wayne #batman #dc comics #my ramblings #bruce: I miss my baby so much #the baby in question is an adult man near 30 years old #I don't know much about makeup but I want to do a bat makeup line

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its-all-or-nothing94 · 4 months

Text

Like a Hurricane // JJ Maybank x OC - Part 1

Summary: Sky is a Pogue through and through. No one would doubt that. But what will happen if her Dad just disappears, and after nine months, she and her brother face the consequences with DCS? Sky tries to manage her way through a literal storm but also the storm of secrets, confessions, friendships, and... summer.

Masterlist

Warnings: language, use of alcohol, talk of death

Pairing: JJ Maybank x OC

A/N: And I'm back with an all-new Outer Banks story :) Yay! I got so invested in that show that I couldn't just binge-watch the whole show, as I didn't want it to end. And yes this is more a "reimagine". Don't @ me ;)

Summer.

Finally. We've waited a long time for the summer break to finally arrive. No more school, no more responsibilities. Not that my brother would care about that ever since our father went missing.

But hey, we're the Pogues, and our mission this summer is to have a good time all the time.

On the terrace of their new hangout, the Pogues lounged, beers in hand, basking in the golden-orange hue of the setting sun. The vibe was effortlessly relaxed and warm.

"That's what, a three-story fall to the deck?", Pope questioned, eyeing the boy teetering on the rooftop, beer casually in tow. "I give you about a one-in-three chance of survival."

The blonde girl with the side braid perched on a scaffold nearby, beer can in hand, gazed upward nonchalantly. "So?"

John B paused, wetting his finger and testing the wind. "Should I do it?"

"Yeah, jump", urged the blonde boy with the cap, sitting next to Sky.

Pope, brandishing a drill playfully, aimed it at John B. "I'll shoot you on the way down."

"You'll shoot me?"

"Yep", he replied with a shrug.

John B mimed a gun with his hand, pointing at Pope. "Pow!"

"They're gonna have Japanese toilets with towel warmers," Kiara announced, stepping out. She was striking, her light-dark skin and wavy hair catching the last light of day.

Beside Sky, JJ chuckled. "Of course. Why wouldn't they?"

Sky shared a knowing look with JJ, a sly grin on her lips. "You know what's next," she whispered, sparking a grin from JJ.

"This used to be a turtle habitat, but who cares about the turtles, I guess?" Kiara lamented.

"Poor turtles", Sky responded with playful sympathy, standing up.

JJ shrugged. "I can't have cold towels."

Kiara ignored him and looked up at John B. "Can you please not kill yourself?"

Sky jumped down from her perch, finishing her beer with a swift gulp. "I mean, one less Routledge, who gives a shit?" she said sarcastically. "Oh wait, me! I would give a shit. Get the fuck down, JB!"

"Don't spill that beer. I'm not giving you another one", JJ warned his best friend.

Unfazed, John B balanced precariously, but a sudden gust of wind caught him off guard. His beer plummeted to the terrace below.

"Of course you did," JJ grumbled.

Kiara turned away, shaking her head. "Smooth..."

The blonde girl sighed and rubbed her face. "Dumbass..."

Pope, peering over the balcony, spotted a security guard emerging from a parked car.

"Hey!"

"Hey, uh, security's here," he informed the others. "Let's wrap it up."

JJ looked around, glanced quickly at Sky, and smiled. "Boys are early today."

"Humpty Dumpty, let's roll," Sky said smugly.

"Yeah," John B agreed, walking down to the others.

"Let's go, boys," Kiara smiled, and they started to hurry.

JJ, teasing as always, exclaimed: "Gary, is that you?"

"Get down", Sky said to her brother.

JJ, still in light spirits, laughs as he sees that it is indeed Gary. "Gary, good to see you, man!"

They made their way downstairs, JJ's leaking behind. "JJ!" Sky laughed and pulled him along.

With Gary's backup close behind, the Pogues had to swiftly escape, leaping fences and dodging the guards. John B had the Twinkie, his van, revved up and ready. They piled in, laughter and adrenaline mixing, as one guard gave futile chase.

"Come on guys, you're giving him a heart attack," Kiara laughs, and Sky nudges her.

In high spirits, they sped off into the summer night, the promise of adventure ahead.

The Outer Banks, Paradise on Earth.

It's the sort of place where you either have two jobs or two houses. Two tribes, one island.

The nice side of the Island is called Figure Eight. It's the rich side of the island. Home of the Kooks. So, guess where we don't live.

And then, there is the south side or the Cut. Home of the working class who make a living busing tables, washing yachts, running charters.

The natural habitat of... drumroll please... the Pogues. That's us. Pogues, pogies, the throwaway fish. Lowest member of the food chain.

Okay. So, the downside of Pogue life is we're ignored and neglected. But the upside of Pogue life? We're ignored and neglected, which means we do whatever we want, whenever we want.

But who are we?

There's JJ. My brother's best friend since the third grade. Meaning that I couldn't get rid of him even if I wanted to.

He's about as local as they come. Latest in a long line of fishing, drinking, smuggling, vendetta-holding salt-lifers who made their living off the water. Best male surfer I know. But don't tell him I said that. I wouldn't hear the end of it. Mild kleptomaniac and a future tax cheat, for sure. And then there's his secret – a massive, undeclared crush on me. Of course, I'm totally oblivious to it. No one knows about it. Well, that's the story, as my brother would probably kill him anyway.

Then there's Kiara, or Kie, as we call her. My best friend and the only other female Pogue apart from me. When not saving turtles or, listening to Marley, or getting a dolphin tattoo (which, for the record, I totally didn't convince her to get – okay, maybe I did), she hangs out with us. We are all not really sure why, though.

So, she's a rich kid, actually. Foot in both worlds. Her family owns The Wreck, my workplace, this Outer Banks institution. Total cash cow with the tourists. We are not really sure how her parents feel about us, well at least about the boys, as I think they kind of like me.

All of the guys had a thing for her at least once.

And then there's Pope. The brains of the operation... finalist for the Lucas T. Vanderhorst Merit Scholarship. And probably the smartest person I know. He's a little bit of a weirdo, to be honest. His father's this legendary character, Heyward. Anything you wanted on the island, Heyward could get for you.

Now, I'm not sure Heyward knew what to make of his oddball son, but it didn't matter. He was a Pogue, just like the rest of us.

There's John B – my twin brother. At first glance, no one would peg us as twins. John B, with his dark hair and deep-set eyes, starkly contrasts my light blonde hair and grey eyes. But beneath these superficial differences lies an unbreakable bond. John B and I have always been incredibly close, sharing a connection that goes beyond mere appearances. He's the undisputed leader of the Pogues, a role he takes as naturally as breathing. In his leadership, there's a sense of adventure, a hint of recklessness, and a deep-seated loyalty that binds all of us together. His presence is both a guiding force and a constant reminder of the unspoken understanding and support we share as twins.

And then there's me, Skylar Artemis Routledge. Or Sky. Talk about a mouthful of a name, right? Thanks a bunch, Mom and Dad. As I mentioned earlier, I'm the younger twin sister of John B – younger by a mere four minutes, a fact he never lets me forget, flaunting it like a badge of honor. My world? It revolves around the thrill of surfing, the freedom of skating, and, of course, my fiercely loyal band of friends. Oh, and about the infamous "no Pogue on Pogue macking" rule? Guilty as charged. That's on me. Or, more accurately, it's because of my overprotective brother, who's made it crystal clear: nobody messes with his "baby sister." It's a title I wear with a mix of annoyance and affection, but hey, that's family for you.

John B and I call an old fish shack on the marsh our home, fondly nicknamed "The Chateau" by our dad. That's how he always referred to it, with a hint of irony and a lot of love. Our dad... he vanished nine months ago while chasing the legend of a shipwreck. In this day and age, who just disappears at sea?

I miss him every single day. John B does, too, the weight of his absence hanging silently between us.

Our mom is a different story. She left when we were just three, a distant memory more than a mother. Last I heard of her, she was in Colorado, or at least I think it was Colorado.

But we've still got Uncle T. Ever since Dad's disappearance, he's been our so-called legal guardian. Right now, he's off in Mississippi, busy building houses. That leaves just John B and me free to roam with our friends, masters of our own little world.

Three months after Dad was declared missing, they wanted to pronounce him dead officially. But John B wouldn’t sign the papers. He's adamant that there's no giving up until he sees a body. As for me... well, as three months stretched into six, my hope quietly faded away. I hate to admit it, but I've stopped expecting a miracle.

John B and Sky found themselves seated in the stark, clinical setting of the sheriff's office, facing a social worker named Cheryl. Her gaze fixed on the twins, who wore expressions of casual, almost practiced boredom.

"John, Skylar, it's come to our attention that you're unemancipated minors living on your own," Cheryl began. At this, John B and Sky shared a quick, knowing glance before bursting into laughter.

"No... Not really," Sky drawled, slouching further in her chair, her face etched with defiance.

"No," echoed John B, shaking his head.

Cheryl sighed deeply, intertwining her fingers with a look of forced patience. "I need honesty to help you two. That's what we're aiming for, right?" she asked, her eyes shifting between the twins.

"We're being honest," John B insisted as Sky puckered her lips in a mock pout.

All too aware of the teenagers' evasiveness, Cheryl let out another sigh. "Okay, then, when's the last time either of you spoke to your uncle?"

The twins exchanged another glance, their silent communication a testament to their unspoken bond.

Sky glanced at her empty wrist. "Uh... 34 minutes ago, to be exact."

"And when did you last see him?"

This time, John B chimed in. "Two hours and, uh... 43 minutes ago?"

Sky couldn't help but chuckle, biting her lip – a habitual gesture.

"John... Skylar, we're planning to visit tomorrow to speak with your uncle. If he's not there, we'll have to proceed with foster care arrangements," Cheryl explained, her tone a mix of sternness and concern. Sky scoffed at the notion. "I assure you, our goal is to find you both a safe, loving home."

They actually thought we were gonna be happy to hear that. Bullshit! I knew that they would separate us, and, almost as bad, they would get us to the mainland.

And that's where this story starts. Our dad missing, our uncle MIA, and the bride of Frankenstein threatening us with foster care.

That evening, the Pogues sat by a fire at the beach. They had fun, but one was missing. John B sat a bit further away and gave in to his thoughts. Sky sat next to JJ, who causally had his arm around her shoulders.

"What's up with him?" JJ asked, and Pope and Kie were looking at Sky.

She sighed and shrugged. "It's his way of coping, I guess... They-" She gulped and sighed again. "They want to swing by tomorrow, talk to Uncle T."

JJ pulled Sky closer. "Come on, they can't just drag your asses away. You're Pogues. You belong here."

Sky's smile faded a little. "Tell that to them."

JJ's smile faded as well, as he looked down at the blonde next to him. Kiara couldn't help but smile at the sight. She realized, for some time now, how much JJ liked Sky. Not just liked, but liked.

"Have you heard about the hurricane? It's heading right towards us", Pope then said and showed them the news channel on his phone, and Sky looked at him, sighing.

She wiggled out of JJ's arm and stood up. "Well, at least one good thing comes of it." She took out her phone, and the others looked at her, confused.

"DCS, how can I help you?" Sky tipped her finger to her lips. "Yeah, uh... I think we have to reschedule."

As Sky was at home later, thunder was crackling, and the wind took off. JJ sat on her porch on his phone. Sky just looked out to the ocean, wondering where her brother was.

"Hey yo, you know where John B is?" she turned and looked at JJ, who looked up at her.

He shrugged. "Nah, but my guess..." He pointed his head towards the ocean.

"He's really going for it, huh?" Sky muttered under her breath, turning back to the sea again.

JJ stood up and put an arm around her shoulders. "Don't worry, Barb. He's gonna be fine."

Barb. That was another thing. JJ called me that for as long as I can remember. Well, at first, it was Surfer Barbie, what many people call me, to be honest, so he just called me Barbie, and that morphed into Barb. He's the only one who calls me that.

Sky sighed once again and turned, walking into the Chateau. JJ looked after her with a questioning look, before he sat back down on the porch.

Shortly after, Sky walked out again with a Whiskey and two glasses. "Might as well..."

She poured some of the brown liqueur into the glasses and slid one over to JJ. He grinned at Sky and took it into his hand.

"The good glasses? What's the occasion?" he asked and winked at her.

"Don't know... When Aggie hits, they might break anyway..."

They clinked the glasses together and smiled at each other before taking a sip.

Forty-five minutes later, the almost full bottle was empty, and Sky sat on the porch bench with JJ, her legs over his lap. JJ has his hands on her shins and caresses them absently.

The conversation, deep and meandering under the influence of alcohol, takes a turn as JJ gazes into the distance, where lightning from the approaching Hurricane Agatha flickers ominously. "Barb," he slurs slightly, "have you ever thought about, you know, dating one of us Pogues? Like, hypothetically speaking?"

Sky, her head leaning back, a relaxed smile on her face, responds with a teasing lilt, "JJ, you know the rule. No Pogue on Pogue macking. John B made it pretty clear."

But JJ is undeterred, his eyes intense. "That rule is bullshit. It's just something John B came up with, so we don't mack on you. But seriously, what if? What if the rule didn't exist?"

Sky turns to face him, her expression softening in the dim porch light. "What if, huh?" she muses, the alcohol making her thoughts swim. "I don't know, JJ. It's a weird thought. We're like... family, you know?"

JJ nods, serious. "Yeah, I know. But sometimes, I think, 'What if.' What if the person you're supposed to be with is right in front of you, and you're just too blind to see it because of some stupid rule?"

The confession, raw and honest, hangs between them. Sky looks into JJ's eyes, seeing the vulnerability and sincerity within. "JJ, are you asking if I've ever thought about you that way?" she whispers, the storm's energy charging the air around them.

JJ meets her gaze, his voice earnest. "Maybe I am. Maybe I'm tired of pretending that I haven't thought about it. About you."

The intensity of the moment builds, mirroring the storm's crescendo. But then, Sky, sensing the conversation veering into serious territory that she's not ready to navigate, especially not under the influence, lets out a laugh. It's light, an attempt to diffuse the tension.

"JJ, you're drunk, and your emotions are all over the place. It's just the whiskey talking."

JJ's gaze lingers on her, a mix of longing and frustration in his eyes. "Maybe," he concedes, "but what if it's not? What if—"

Skye cuts him off with a light laugh, leaning in to bump her shoulder against his. "Oi, Bandolero, trust me. You're going to wake up tomorrow and realize you were just feeling extra sentimental because of the storm and the whiskey."

A little later, as the conversation drifted and the storm raged outside, Sky and JJ succumbed to sleep on the porch. Suddenly, Sky felt a persistent poking at her cheek.

Blearily opening her eyes, she was jolted awake by the looming figure before her, illuminated starkly by a flash of lightning.

"Jesus fucking Christ, are you out of your damn mind?" Sky exclaimed, her words directed at her drenched brother, who stood before her, surfboard in tow.

The commotion roused JJ, who blinked groggily at John B.

"That's your concern? What the hell are you guys still doing out here? Get inside!" John B barked, hauling Sky to her feet.

Sky, unimpressed, retorted as she was ushered inside, "Look who's talking, big bro. Did you seriously try to surf in this mess?" Behind them, JJ, barely awake, stumbled into the living room, collapsing onto the pull-out couch.

John B paused, eyeing his best friend's form. "What happened to him?" he asked, amusement lacing his voice.

Sky, smirking, replied as she headed to her room, "Dad's Highland Park. Turns out our Bandolero over there isn't as seasoned a drinker as he likes to claim." She paused at her door, glancing back at John B. "Good night."

"Night," he responded, his smile lingering as he made his way to his own room.

#Outer Banks #JJ x OC #JJ Maybank #John B Routledge #Outer Banks x OC #Outer Banks x Reader #OBX #OBX x reader #JJ Maybank x reader #Well I really really love the character JJ Maybank

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nevertoforgive · 3 months

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★☆★☆my soapghost headcannons☆★☆★

🧼

▪︎most annoying person alive, (affectionate)the type of person to fuck with Ghost's stuff or touch him 24/7 because he wants attention and he'll just sit there and pout if he ignores him.

▪︎loves pet names, he'll use the regular shit (babe,baby,love) but he's also the type to call ghost super specific random shit(he's still recovering from the time he thought it'd be funny to call him Skelator)

▪︎tried to cut his own hair once and fucked it up so bad he just had to go bald for a few weeks(gaz will never let it go and brings it up weekly)(Ghost cuts it for him now)

▪︎waaaaay smarter than he let's on. I mean he's a demolitions expert ffs, and while he acts like a dumbass half the time, he's really brilliant

▪︎It's his dream to ride a horse. He just thinks it'd be cool(he would fall off and get concussed immediately)(gaz thinks it's a great idea)

▪︎grows his hair out after a while even though the guys give him hell for how impractical it is when it's long

💀

•gentle giant vibes (HEAR ME OUT) he's just so rough and cutthroat on the field that when he's around the people he cares about outside of that environment he doesn't wanna act that way(it's the little things though, like straightening Gaz's hat when it gets knocked sideways a bit, or bringing Price dinner when he gets drowned in paperwork and misses it, or gently adjusting the straps on Soaps tac vest even though he could do it himself)he absolutely refuses to acknowledge it and pretends he's a very ruthless scary leitenant

•his love language is acts of service and when he and Soap first get together he doesn't really know how to deal with him because he's never been around someone so damn touchy before

•such a sucker for pet names, he only ever uses sweetheart or love(on very special occasions he might say baby but it's rare)but he absolutely melts at anything soap calls him(angel,darlin,honey,pup,etc.)

•listens to the weirdest fuckin music. works out to classical, but falls asleep to metal. (Also the whole team loves AC/DC bc I said so.)

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

This was way longer than I planned, but it's nice to have somewhere to info dump, so maybe I'll do more later, lol.

#cod #cod headcanons #call of duty modern warfare 2 #task force 141 #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #soapghost

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offside-the-lines · 6 months

Text

tell me who i run to (if not you) | anthony beauvillier | Ep 4. Four-leaf Clover

This is a completed series! Read Full Fic | 🧸 Series Cover Page/Masterlist 🧁 | 🎵 Playlist 🎶 << Previous Episode || Ep 4 || Next Episode >>

Chapter Summary: Tito’s been playing again, and during his first stretch of away games begins to miss home. Well, Evie’s home anyway. When he sees her in the bar, he can’t help but show it. Barzy calls him out on his lies.

A/N: You can refer to cover page for the series summary, author's notes, tropes, general warnings and other fun tidbits. This series contains mature themes. Minors DNI. Warning: heavy alcohol consumption, and kissing under the influence Disclaimer: This series is set in Chicago but does not mention the name of the team.

Word count: 5.5k // 44.5k

Requests (open) | Masterlist & Who I Write For | Join My Taglist

Four-leaf Clover

Tito — March 9

Tito walks through Evie’s front door, his feet dragging like cement on her floor. It wasn’t even a long road trip, only three games and six days, but they took a late flight, still in their game day suits, right after the game in DC so they could be ready for the back-to-back tomorrow. Today?

He was happy to be back playing and delighted to be back in the normal rhythm of training, games, and travel. But every game is a slog, and the weight of a loss feels even heavier on a team that loses more than it wins.

Not to mention, the long calls with his agent and dad meant he spent most of his waking hours on the roadie thinking about the future. It was hard not to feel increasingly pessimistic when you feel like you’re barely making an impact on a bottom-of-the-table team.

So, yeah, he’s exhausted. His thoughts are moving like sludge through a clogged pipe when he realizes that Evie has been talking to him for a while.

She looks up at him expectantly from where she sits in front of her computer, surrounded by papers and books. She’s wearing her glasses, and her hair is tied in a messy bun, whisps falling around her face. She’s wearing another sweater he had left behind. If he’s honest, most of his favorite comfortable clothes are in her closet now. He feels so relieved to see her he could cry.

He smiles at her softly, “Hey. Sorry. What did you say?”

She laughs. “I knew you weren’t listening.” She shakes her head and stands up, walking over to him.

His body sways towards her without his meaning to.

“Woah, okay.” She catches him in a hug. “Brutal week, huh?”

His arms tighten around her, holding her firmly to him. He hums, burying his face in her neck and sinking into the scent of her perfume and conditioner.

She leans back and smiles at him in a way that makes his body feel even more like jelly than it did, “Yeah, okay. Let’s get you to bed.”

She reaches up and loosens his tie as he just blinks at her. He cooperates as she takes his suit jacket and hangs it up on the kitchen bar stool. She pushes him towards her bedroom, causing him to grunt in confusion.

“Look, you’re tired. It was a crazy game, and you took a long flight. And, to top it all off, you have another game tomorrow. Which is fucking ridiculous, by the way. You’re sleeping in the bed.”

“What?” he mumbles, “No. It’s okay. I can do the couch.”

“I’m not arguing with you on this. Go get ready for bed.”

“But,” he pauses, turning towards her in the doorway of her room, “What about you? I'm not letting you sleep on the couch in your own apartment.”

She looks at him assessingly before shaking her head and smiling, “Okay then.”

“Okay?”

“Yeah. Come on, let’s go.” She closes her laptop and turns off the lights, pushing him further into her room.

His feet drag as his head swims with confusion. “You’re staying in here, too?”

“Yes, dumbass. Might as well take advantage of this king bed.” Her voice softens. “Is that okay with you?”

“Oh,” he says, surprised, “Yes, please.”

He unbuttons his shirt as she rummages around in the closet. When she re-emerges, she’s holding a t-shirt and sweatpants. As he takes the rest of his suit off and hangs it on the nearest empty hanger, she remains standing in front of the closet stock still, eyes never leaving him. He puts a hand on her waist as he reaches around her to hang up his suit, dropping a kiss on her cheek as he takes the clothes in her hand.

If he was less tired, he might have caught the way her eyes linger on the ripple of his body, unable to look away as he changed. He might have seen the flush on her cheeks that she wills away before following him into the bathroom.

His eyes flutter closed as he leans against the sink when they're both brushing their teeth. As he starts to walk back into the bedroom, he remembers something important.

“Oh!”

“Yes?” Evie mumbles through her toothbrush, her eyes wide through the mirror as he stands close behind her, holding her waist.

“I tried to buy some tea when we were in Arizona. I tried to find the type you have here, but I couldn’t find it. Can you tell me what it’s called?”

“I can give you a box,” she says, standing stock still.

“Oh!” he whispers, “Thanks.”

He drops a kiss on her shoulder before trudging into the bedroom. He means to wait for her to join him, but he falls asleep as soon as his head hits the pillow.

Evie — March 17

Evie has never understood why St Patrick’s Day is so popular in the US, but that doesn’t stop her from agreeing to go out with the girls to celebrate. She revels in the group around her in the crowded club; it’s nice to have a group of friends in Chicago. Six months ago, that would've felt impossible.

Well, technically, she guesses, she has two groups of friends. She sees Kelsey, Leanne, and the others every few days, whether it’s for lunch, dinner, or a night out.

When Tito’s in town, she’ll join him and the team on the rare occasion that he goes out with them. Lately, she’s also been getting texts from Alandra when the team's traveling, inviting her over for viewing parties.

It feels weird to sit amongst the wives and girlfriends of the other players, though, so Evie prefers watching at home. Besides, Leanne has really gotten into the sport, so she always has company.

Her friends have been talking about St Patrick’s Day since the New Year’s party, where there was a spirited debate over the merits of house parties and nights out. The Night Out evangelists put together a bar and club crawl that started early in the evening. And Evie can really feel the alcohol in her system as she sways to the music.

Somewhere in her distant memory, she can recall Tito calling her around the second bar they visited. The team had won tonight and were in the mood to celebrate. Tito was high on his two-goal performance and sounded excited to actually go out with the team for once. She was happy for him.

She pulls out her phone— it’s now past midnight— and opens up her text messages.

To Tito 🌞🏒: whre r u?????

“Hey, Genevieve! Don’t be rude! Put your phone away,” Kelsey yells over the thrum of music.

Leanne peaks over her shoulder. “Who’ you textin’?” she slurs.

“Hey,” Evie squeaks, stuffing her phone back in her pockets. “Tito. He’s supposed to come find us.”

“What is it,” someone calls over. Evie’s not quick enough to figure out who.

“Gigi’s texting Tito again,” Leanne sings, making a wild gesture that knocks into a random passerby. “Oops.”

It only takes a second for the wolf whistles to begin.

Evie squeezes her eyes shut and knows precisely what’s in her near future.

Kelsey leans in conspiratorially, “Speaking of— You've got to be tapping that, right? I mean, holy shit. He's so fucking hot. Come on, you’ve got to tell us. What’s he packin’ under there?”

“Guys,” she whines, “We’ve literally been over this—”

“Okay, but like, you’ve got to be fucking right? You can’t have that body around 24/7 and not be hitting it.”

A wave of assent ripples through the group, and Evie feels something settle in her gut. Warm and tight across her lower belly. It makes her feel irritated and on edge.

“No, Leanne, we're not fucking. We hang out, we watch TV, we make and eat food, we sleep. That’s it.” She reaches for one of the shots on their table and slams it down.

“Oooh, she’s a little defensive,” Evie hears someone say.

“Yeah, she has to be so fucking wound up. Seeing all that and not getting any,” Kelsey tries to cover it as a mumble, but her voice is louder than she intends it to be.

“I literally picked up the other week. You were all literally there.” Evie rolls her eyes and glares at her friends. She pointedly has not and will not tell them about how that night ended.

“I guess you’re right,” Leanne says, putting her arm around Evie’s shoulder, “That girl was so fucking hot too. I don’t know how you do it. Well, I mean, I do. You’re hot. They’re hot. It’s just math. Still. Leave some for the rest of us, Jesus.”

Evie stares at the shots on the table and considers if alcohol poisoning would get her out of this conversation.

Kelsey interrupts her thoughts again, “But wait, wasn’t he on a roadie that night, though? Are you sure you guys are totally cool with each other hooking up with other people?”

Evie sighs and bangs her head on the table. “Guys, you've watched us wingman each other. What the fuck're you on right now?”

“Oh, right. Yeah.” Kelsey looks suitably chastised as she downs her own shot. Evie considers whether she should be cut off but ultimately decides she’s probably fine.

Her thoughts are interrupted again when Kelsey whispers in her ear, “So, like, if I sleep with him, you’d be okay with that.”

Evie feels her teeth clench, and her body stiffen as the room tilts a little. She forces her body to relax. She hasn’t had enough to drink to throw up right now.

“Yeah, have at it, Kels.”

When she looks over, Kelsey isn’t at all convinced, but she doesn’t seem to want to explore the topic any further. Thank God.

Evie takes a deep breath and takes another shot.

“Okay,” she says, loud and cheery, “We got another stop on this party tour?”

Leanne pulls out the map, to cheers around the table, everyone moving on quickly.

“I think Underground’s next. We can go now, what do you think?”

“Uh, yeah! Sounds great! Let’s go!” Evie announces.

As they step onto the curb, her phone rings. When she checks it, her screen is filled with a picture of Tito asleep on her couch, which she has saved as his contact photo. The image melts the remaining tension in her shoulder; she smiles and answers the call.

“Hey Tito, hold on,” she says into her phone before looking up at her friends. “You guys go on without me. I’ll meet you at the next place.”

“Are you sure?” Leanne says.

“Yeah, you guys go on. I’ll be right behind you.”

“Okay.” Leanne gives her a squeeze before walking off with the rest of the group.

Evie pulls her phone back to her ear as she steps under the club's awning, wrapping her coat close to her.

“—lo? Are you still there? Hellloooooo,” she hears Tito’s voice calling.

“Hey, Tito. Sorry, I was just talking to the girls.”

“Oh, hi!” Tito says, way too loud, making her wince.

“Hi to you too, bud,” she laughs, “Maybe not so loud. You almost made me deaf.”

There’s a pause on the other end before she hears Tito whisper dramatically into his phone, “Oh. Sorry. I just got excited. I miss you.”

She laughs again, her cheeks straining with her smile. “That’s okay. Where are you?”

“Um… Hold on.” She hears some muffled noises on the other end of the line. “We're going somewhere else soon. Where are you?”

“That didn't answer my question, " she laughs. “I’m at SpyBar. In River North.”

She hears him repeat her location.

“Tito?”

“Yeah, chouchou! I’m in a cab! I’ll be there in…” She hears him lean away from the phone again and ask the driver how far away he is, first in French and then in English. “Ten minutes.”

“What? Okay?” she says in confusion.

“Don’t move, okay? I’m coming.”

She shakes her head. “Yeah, okay. I might go back inside because it’s freezing out here.”

“Oh, yeah,” his voice coming through bright on her phone, “That’s okay. I’ll find you!”

“No, Tito! Just text me when you get here, and I’ll come out. There’s a line.”

When she hears no response, she looks down to see he has already hung up. “Goddammit,” she says to herself.

Fifteen minutes later, she's standing at a high top in the corner of the room, eyeing her phone, her vision hazy, when a large body comes crashing into her.

She stumbles in surprise. “Wha—”

Strong hands spin her around.

Her brain registers Tito’s beaming smile for a split second before his lips crash into hers. His hands fly up to cradle her face roughly.

She makes a squeak of surprise, her hands clinging to his arms— were they always this firm— for balance.

Before she can process any of it, Tito leans back. She immediately misses the sensation of his warm lips against hers, and her body sways into him to chase them.

“Hi,” Tito says warmly, his eyes wild and unfocused, the corners of them crinkled in unbridled joy.

“Hi?” She looks up at him. At this moment, it hits her that Leanne and Kelsey are so right. He's probably the most beautiful person she’s ever seen. Her eyes trail down his sharp nose to his soft lips. She likes those lips. They smile.

“I missed you,” the lips say. One of the hands on Evie’s face trails down her neck, causing her to shiver. The other hand tenderly tucks a strand of hair behind her ear before resting on her waist.

“You saw me this morning.” Her hands slide from his arms— how are they so big— across his equally firm chest. She can hear her blood rushing in her ears as she feels him solid and warm beneath her fingers.

“I know,” he murmurs before leaning forward to plant a soft peck on her forehead. She feels more than hears him take a breath in, his shoulders relaxing.

He leans back, his eyes searching her face, but she’s distracted. Her own eyes feel unfocused as they get stuck on his tongue wetting his glistening lips before finally locking onto his crystal-clear eyes.

Whatever Tito’s looking for, he seems content to have found it when he smiles, and she can’t help but smile back.

The hand on her neck moves so gently she feels every hair on her body stand on end. His thumb moves to brush along her jaw, resting on her chin. He tilts her head back, and her mouth parts with the action, and she feels his chest rumble beneath her palms as he groans.

The second time his lips meet hers, she’s ready for them and she wastes no time. She’s always known they were full— she has eyes— but she can feel every millimeter of their softness against hers. She feels content to just explore his pillowy lips but is interrupted by the way his tongue brushes against her lips, setting a jolt of heat down her spine.

Her hands grab onto his black dress shirt, pulling him impossibly closer and deepening the kiss. She feels crazy with it; the way their tongues slide hot and wet, the way his hands drag reverently over her back, coming to rest on her hips.

Her fingers are tangled in his soft curls. She gives them a gentle tug, eliciting another deep noise from him that makes the warmth in her stomach grow blazing hot.

He gently bites her lip in retaliation, surprising a moan out of her. Somewhere in her brain, she notices how broad his hands feel, fingers digging into her hips lightly.

They both jump when Tito’s phone vibrates between their bodies. He pulls away, a soft smile on his face, before reaching into his pocket.

“The boys are at the Underground, and they’re just wondering where I am.” He rests his forehead against hers.

“Oh! That’s where my friends went, too.”

“Do you want to go there then?”

“Yeah, let’s do it,” she smiles. She can feel her heart beating hard in her chest as the room sways a little around them.

“Okay, then.” He pauses. “Just one more thing before we go.”

“What?”

“Oh, you know, just this.”

He kisses her briefly.

“Wait, one more.”

Another kiss.

“Hang on. Okay, last one.”

Another kiss.

“There.”

She's laughing, rolling her eyes as she pushes him out of the club and into the cold Chicago air. The Underground is only a 10-minute walk from where they are, so they decide to walk hand-in-hand, chatting excitedly and laughing. At some point, Tito convinces her that he should give her a piggy-back ride. And that’s what their friends see when they walk up outside the club.

“Hey! Look! It’s Leanne. Oh, and your other friends! Oh! And the boys!” he shouts, attempting to point as he holds onto her calf.

Eventually, he agrees to let her down, but only because the bouncer insists. He doesn’t go far, though. He has an arm around her for the rest of the night, never leaving her side for even a moment until he's putting her in a cab with Leanne, dropping a kiss on her cheek.

“I’m not going to say anything,” Leanne says smugly as the door shuts.

Evie — March 18

The following morning, Evie wakes up with an incredible hangover. She groans as she rubs her eyes, wincing at the open windows. They must've forgotten to pull the blinds last night.

Tito…

She pauses, her head spinning. There’s something there as she freezes, pulling on that fuzzy thread of memory.

It comes back in a flash: wet pillowy lips sliding over hers, soft curly hair in her fingers, a broad palm firm on her waist, a warm callused thumb tracing her jaw, two deep pools of blue holding her gaze so tenderly.

She gasps; her eyes fly open.

Tito.

She looks over at her empty side, where she has grown accustomed to seeing Tito sleeping.

Right, he had to pack for a road trip. A road trip leaving today for the next week.

Fuck.

He will be back for only two days before he's gone for another week.

Double fuck.

Evie groans, pulls his pillow over her face, and screams into the swirling scents of her own conditioner and his cologne.

Tito — April 1

Tito’s glad he gets a day off in New York before their game against the Islanders. It lets him veg out on Mat’s couch all afternoon and evening— an entire 12 hours where he can pretend last year never happened.

He hates that this is one of only two places where he doesn’t feel like his skin is too tight for his body. At least in this space, he doesn’t have to think about all the calls with his agent about next season. He especially doesn’t have to think about the email in his inbox detailing his flight home on April 21st.

So he just enjoys spending time with Mat, playing video games like old times, and being in each other’s presence.

He’s glad he gets that time to enjoy blissful ignorance before he's rudely wrenched back into his real life while eating Thai food on Mat’s couch.

“So, any news about the contract situation?” Mat tries to sound casual and falls short by at least a mile.

“No, Barzy. If there was news, you’d know. You’d literally be like the first person I’d tell.”

Mat studies his face, and he must find something there because he shrugs.

“First person still, eh?” Mat’s face lights up in a cheeky smirk. “You sure? Are you sure I wouldn’t be the second? You think you’d call me before you’d call Evie.”

He says her name in a sing-songy voice, making Tito roll his eyes. Mat has gotten so much worse in his teasing about Evie since they met on FaceTime; Mat had loudly— embarrassingly— said, “You said she was hot; you didn’t tell me she was this gorgeous.” They apparently text now, too.

Tito heaves a heavy sigh and rolls his eyes. “Actually, you’re right. I’d probably call my dad first.”

Unfortunately, the glint has not left Mat’s eyes, which tells Tito he has found something to latch on to and has no intention of stopping anytime soon.

“So,” Mat says, casually chewing on his Pad Thai. “How’s Evie?”

“Why don’t you ask her yourself? You guys text now, don’t you?”

“You jealous, bud?”

Tito levels him with an unimpressed look. “Why would I be jealous? I literally see her every day.”

“Every day, eh?” Mat nods dramatically. “Uh-huh. Uh-huh. Uh-huh.”

Tito swears internally. How does Mat always do this? “Yes. I see my new best friend every day.”

Mat squawks so loud that Tito almost drops his green curry and points at him accusingly with his chopsticks. “What?! I told you that she was replacing me. Nah-uh, man. I am your best friend. And I will fight her. I will fly to Chicago right now and fight her.”

Tito chews smugly. “You’re going to travel. On a plane. To fist-fight a girl? Why don’t you take that energy onto the ice instead of all the yapping, eh?”

“Oh fuck you, Beau,” he spits, with no heat behind it. He eats his dinner, thinking for a bit before adding, “No ice talk in Barzy-Beau time.”

They eat their dinner in silence for a few seconds before Mat pipes up again, sighing dramatically, “I can’t believe you’ve fucking replaced me already. It’s been one year. All those years of work, down the drain. Did me helping you when you broke your arm in U-18 dev camp mean nothing to you?”

“Barz, this is why they call you a bitch baby.” Tito laughs again when he's rewarded with another squawk.

“No one calls me that!” he whines.

“Sure, bud.” Tito bumps his shoulder into Mat’s, smiling as Mat continues to rant while they finish their food.

After putting the empty take-out containers onto Mat’s coffee table, he flops back onto the couch with the controller.

“Okay, so you don’t want to talk about Evie,” Mat says, a few seconds into the NHL 24 game they’re playing.

“Not really, no.”

“Okay, so, like, any other hotties in Chicago?”

Flashes of Evie cross his mind, unprompted. He tries to think of literally any of the other girls he’s been with ever, but they all get replaced by her: the warm glint in her dark chocolate eyes, the buttery soft skin of her calf beneath his hands when they’re on the couch, or the way her smile makes his chest loosen even on the worst days.

And the hot slide of her lips against his.

Tito’s thumb slips, and his avatar misses the goal.

“Fuck! Uh, not really? I mean, I went out a bit earlier in the season, but I’m just so fucking exhausted now.”

Mat hums. “Sure, yeah. Anyone good enough you’d wanna see again?”

Tito’s traitorous mind can only supply the blurry flashes of Evie’s body pressed against his with the thrumming bass of club music in the background. The sensation of her hands curled in his hair. The little gasp-moan she made when he bit her lip. The way his fingers could span her entire waist.

He swallows hard, pushing those memories back down. “Come on, man. You know I never tell.”

Mat laughs softly. “Yeah, I know. Still worth a try, though.”

“You’re disgusting, man.”

Mat shrugs, feigning indifference. Tito bumps him hard with his shoulder.

“Hey!” he yells, elbowing Tito back, “That’s fucking interference.”

“What're you gonna do about it? Fight me?”

The conversation and the game devolve from there.

Later in the evening, Mat stands up to clean off the take-out boxes, an honest hallmark of growing up.

“You want anything to drink?” he asks from the kitchen.

Tito pauses and thinks, “Yeah, uh… Do you have any tea?”

There’s a silence in the kitchen before Mat appears in the doorway.

“Tea?” he asks.

“Uh, yeah? Leaves plus hot water? Leaf juice? I’m sure you’ve heard of it,” Tito smirks.

“Shut up,” Mat rolls his eyes, “Since when do you drink tea.”

“Since always? What’s it to you?”

Mat stares at him for an extended moment, brows furrowed, before walking back into the kitchen without another word.

“Um, Barz?” Tito calls after him, following him into the kitchen.

He sees Mat bent over, rummaging through his drawers loudly before turning around and throwing a tea bag at Tito.

“Here. You know where stuff is.” Mat walks past him back to the living room.

Tito stands for a second, confused, before following. “Dude, what the fuck was that?”

When Mat turns around, Tito's floored because Mat looks genuinely angry.

“Why are you lying to me?” Mat challenges, not a trace of his signature smirk on his face.

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“You know exactly what I’m talking about.”

Tito stares at him blankly before shaking his head.

“Are you fucking serious right now, Beauvillier?” He pauses to assess Tito’s face. “Tea! Tea. You drink tea now? I've known you ten fucking years; I've seen you drink tea maybe three times.”

“Oh, come on, I drank tea.”

“No, you didn’t! But that is so not the fucking point, and you know it.” Mat walks back to him and pokes him hard in the chest. “So, tell me, why are you lying to me?”

Tito sighs and rubs his hands over his face, and when he opens his mouth to speak again, his voice comes out strained, “I’m not lying Mat. I swear.”

He feels Mat poke him again, gentler this time. “Okay. Fine. But if you’re not lying to me, then you're lying to yourself.”

“I— There’s—” Tito stammers, unable to form a coherent sentence, a panic setting into his chest.

Mat looks at him, and his expression softens before sighing, “Look, Beau. Tell me honestly. Where the fuck did you go when I asked you if you were seeing someone?”

His mind unhelpfully flashes him the image of Evie waking up next to him in the morning, sleep rumpled and utterly breathtaking. She makes a little squeak when she stretches, right as her eyes flutter open, and before she smiles at him. Tito’s always been an early riser, but even if he wasn’t, it’d been worth it just to see that every morning.

“Yes! See? That! Where the fuck did you just go?”

“I—” Tito takes a deep breath and fights through the tightness in his chest. “I can’t. I can’t, Mat.”

“Beau—”

“You know I can’t. She— I’m leaving Chicago in three weeks, Mat. I don’t know if I’m even going back to Chicago. I have no idea where I’m going to be next year.” He takes a shaking breath and looks past Mat’s shoulder and out of the living window.

“Beau— Tito, what are you talking about?” Mat asks gently.

“Barz, I know. Okay? I know. I know that I'm absolutely fucked. But it doesn’t matter because I can’t— I won’t do that to her. I've been in three different cities in the past year. Three different teams.” He fights through the wobble in his voice, barely above a whisper. “You don’t know what it’s like to— You just don’t know what it’s like.”

“Tito, fucking talk to me, man. Please. Just word vomit. Get it all out. Like when you make yourself throw up when you’ve drunk too much. It sucks in the moment, but you’ll feel better after.”

Tito sinks heavily into the armchair next to the couch and buries his face in his hands. “It’s just… One day, a team's your life. You’re asked to give everything to that team. And you’re happy to. Because it’s your team. Those are your boys. It’s like who you are. Anthony Beauvillier, a New York Islander. Right?

“And then the next day, out of absolutely fucking nowhere, you’re just not that anymore. You’re now on a new team in a new city with new teammates and new support staff. Everything's different. But you’re supposed to act like everything's fine, and you have to slot right in, in this strange new place with strange new people, and be just as committed to this strange new team as you were to the old one. And pretend like the last few years of your life never even happened.

“So you do it. And you do it with a smile on your face and a positive mindset, or whatever. You power through until you make new friends, have new favorite spots to eat, and, just like, new everything. And you think, fuck, okay, this’ll be fine. You’re smiling more for real now instead of just because that’s what people expect from you.

“And then, one day, you’re eating breakfast and you get a call from your agent. And it’s happening all over again.” His voice breaks. “And I just have a feeling that this is just what my career is going to be like Mat.”

“No—” he hears Mat’s pained voice coming from next to him.

“No, it’s okay, Barz. Look, I’m really happy for you, and I love seeing you fucking killing it out there. And being an All-Star and all that. But that’s not me. And that’s fine, too. I’m doing fine. I promise. But I can’t fucking do that to someone— to her. Even if she feels the— I can’t ask her to do this fucking circus show with me, just ripping her from her home every however many months. Just being a little scared every single time the phone rings that it’s going to be that call again. I can’t—”

Tito presses the heels of his hands against his eyes hard, willing himself not to cry. He hears Mat shuffle around to hug him firmly and tries to breathe through the tightness constricting his chest.

“I’m sorry, Beau. I really am. I wish it didn’t have to be you. I wish you could stay— could've stayed.” Mat sounds like he might be crying a little, too.

“It’s okay. It’s gotta be someone, I guess.” He shrugs, wiping his hands from his eyes and running his fingers through his slightly messed-up hair. “It’s so fucking stupid because I still feel really fucking lucky to play in the show. Like this was the dream. You know that. I’m living my fucking dream. And I knew this was part of the deal. So I’m okay with it, but I can’t ask her to do this shit with me. She deserves better than this. And I’m really grateful she’s even just my friend at all. I’ll be okay with it staying that way. It doesn’t matter what I— It doesn’t matter.”

Mat gives him a final squeeze before letting him go and sitting back on the edge of the couch. “Have you thought about talking to Evie about this? Like, I think she should know.”

Tito shakes his head, staring at his damp hands. “No… I don’t know… Maybe… I wouldn’t even know what to say.”

“Well, I think it would be good to start with how you definitely want to marry her and have her babies because you’re an idiot who drinks tea now.”

Tito chortles and shoves Mat in the shoulders hard; he falls dramatically backward into the couch. “I’m not fucking saying that, Mathew.”

“Which part, eh?” Mat winks and wiggles his eyebrows.

Tito takes the pillow behind him and pelts it at Mat’s head. “Any of it, you dumb fuck,” he yells before they both burst out laughing.

When they finally calm down, Mat says, “For what it’s worth, she’s definitely into you too. Anyone who voluntarily spends that much time with you has to be mesmerized by something. Might be just the abs, but it could also be your personality.”

“God, I hate you.”

“No, you don’t. You love me,” Mat beams at him, a smug grin stretched across his whole face.

“Urgh, fine. I do, Mat-Mat. Worst fucking choice ever. Should never have spoken to you at camp,” he scoffs, rolling his eyes.

“Yeah? And what would you do without me?” Mat says in an exaggerated sing-song voice. He nudges Tito’s calf with his foot before standing up, “Come on, let’s make you that fucking tea.”

“I can’t believe you yelled at me over tea.” Tito stands up, following Mat to the kitchen again.

“I did not yell at you about tea. I yelled at you because you were being so fucking stupid, and it was pissing me off.”

“Do you even have a kettle?”

Mat throws him an unimpressed look, “No, I obviously don’t have a kettle. I was going to microwave it. God, she’s made you into a snob.”

“It's not snobby to make your tea at the right temperature.” Mat raises his eyebrows, and Tito laughs, “Okay, maybe. She’s right, though. Something about brewing temperature.”

“Whipped,” Mat mutters under his breath, causing Tito to hit him with a dishtowel.

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