#New war table mission available

[lovestruckthedasbard]

[motherroam-rs]

Unattached

Fives x Fem!Reader

NSFW Ahead Minors DNI 18+!!!

A/N: To all the girls who wish they lost their virginity to a clone trooper - this one’s for us.

Tags/Warnings: Loss of virginity, Best Friends to Lovers, Alcohol, Gambling, Lil bit of angst, Fluff, Smut, Oral Sex (F! Receiving), Vaginal Fingering, Slow burn (technically), Love Confessions, Happy Ending!!

Summary: Since the moment you were transferred to the 501’st as a Civ Medic you and Fives gravitated towards each other and over many months of friendship you can’t help but slowly fall for the charming ARC Trooper. The tension only increases when he finds out just how inexperienced you are.

Word Count: 9.8k

(For clarification, the italics are flashbacks)

The data pad read ‘Order for Civilian Medic Transfer’, which is really just a nicer way of saying ‘You can’t do anything about this, so just accept it and suffer’. 

You had no choice when you were inevitably rotated between legions, untethered. Your newest order was to the 501st, and you find yourself standing in an empty Medbay; it’s quiet. Too quiet. You’ve either been fortunately assigned to a legion that didn’t see much action, if that were even possible, or you were stood in the eye of a hurricane.

Your eyes are caught on the tattoo across the scalp of the head medic, ‘A good droid is a dead one’ and you suppress a smile at the sentiment. It’s why you were needed - clones weren’t fond of droids, even those programmed for medical purposes. 

“New?” The clone asks, eyes focused on a datapad. You weren’t, not by any means, you had been rotated countless times over the duration of the clone wars. But, you already begin preparing yourself for the usual gruff demeanour that often greeted you, although you were better than a droid, to many clones you were still just a ‘Civ’, despite the many sleepless nights of studying and GAR medical training. 

“No, sir, transferred from the 104th.” You keep your words short, formal, but the clone medic’s eyes light up in recognition.

“Under Commander Wolffe?” He asks, a hint of surprise in his tone as he actually looks away from the datapad.

“Briefly,” you admit, recalling how just a few days before the commander in question practically growled at you when you had to check his eye. You lasted a week there.  “I was with the 212th before that.”

The head medic eyes you with a curious look, waiting for you to elaborate, so you continued, “Typically Civ medics are just seen as temporary by the head medic, until a clone medic becomes available.” You explain, perhaps a bit too fast. How many times could you fit the word medic in that sentence? You internally groan, but he gives a small hum of acknowledgement, whether it was in agreement or disagreement of your statement, his face didn’t betray him either way. 

“Go get yourself settled, and then report back here in an hour.” He says with a slight sigh, passing you the datapad, a blinking spot on the screen indicating where your bunk is - at least this time you weren’t in the shared barracks. “We’ve only just got back from being planetside on Coruscant for a week.” Ah, that answers the question of why it had been so quiet then.

“Thank you, sir.” You nod, picking up your small pack of personal belongings, it wasn’t much, but it was the only anchor you had when you were transferred around so often.

“Kix is fine.” He nods, giving you a genuine smile. “Welcome to the 501st.”

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

The small room is thrumming with energy that’s been ignited from an evening of drinking following a particularly rough mission for the men. Contraband in the form of amber liquid that burns your throat and fuels bad decisions, is grouped together on a small crate you’ve been using as a makeshift table for the evening. 

You’re currently sitting on the floor, leaning against a crate next to Fives as he divulges details to you about their most recent mission. Details that you probably aren’t supposed to know, but he tells you anyways, because ‘what are friends for if not to impress’, he had once told you with a sly wink. 

You knew most of the other Civ workers in the GAR weren’t as close to the clones they served with as you were. In all of the legions you had been bounced around from, there was a clear divide between the small number of Civ members, compared to the clones. But in the 501’st, those theoretical lines were blurred, or probably didn’t exist at all, with how Fives’s arm settled around your shoulder. He always had been the most friendly out of his brothers.

Your attention is drawn away from the warm expression of your friend, and you groan as you catch Jesse and Hardcase standing side by side, comparing their lengths. 

“Put it away, for the last time they’re all the same size!” You call out with a laugh, making Fives frown and whip around as he’s been interrupted from your conversation.

“Know from experience with clones?” Jesse sends you a drunken wink as his hands sloppily stuffs the offending body part back into his blacks.

“Medical experience with clones.” Your face almost hurts from smiling as you shake your head, before turning back to Fives. It’s faint and fleeting, but a look of annoyance crosses his features. You’re not awarded the opportunity to ask about it though, because he’s already delving into another over-exaggerated story of how he took out a whole group of droids on his own. 

You wouldn’t really care if they all weren’t true, you just enjoyed hearing him talk. The man could make even the most boring senate conversations interesting, you’re sure of it. So you smile, hooked onto each of his words, cursing the way your heart beats too fast when he reaches out to push away some hair that's fallen from the usual tight bun you have to wear it in. His fingers graze the skin of your cheek, leaving a burning trail.

It’s a small gesture that doesn’t even break the rhythm of his conversation. The touches are natural, instinctive on his part. He’s always touching you - you know to him it means nothing more than that, but your tell-tale racing heart screams at you that you wish it did.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Once you had returned from being settled in, Kix had directed you to some neatly stacked crates containing new medical supplies to restock the old ones. Your sluggish movements remind you just how little sleep you’d managed on the transport here from the 104th, your body was still aching from the hours spent laying on the durasteel floor between containers of explosives. Not the best sleep you’ve had, and surprisingly not the worst.

“Hey Kix, can you tell me if this looks infected?” A voice pulls you from your thoughts, alerting you to the attention of a topless clone trooper, something that no longer phased you given how many entirely naked clones you had treated. Upon seeing you, the clone goes from being relaxed to formal instantly, clearing his throat as he fumbled to get the top half of his blacks on. 

“You,” he clears his throat, his voice now adopting the typical ‘trooper at attention’ tone as he pulls the clothing over his head, “Are not Kix.” His top blacks are on backwards, and he runs a finger along the collar which now presses uncomfortably to his flushed neck.

“No, I’m not.” You agree with him, suppressing a small smile at how he looks caught off guard, from his surprised expression you may as well be a battle droid standing in the medical bay.

“May I?” You gesture to his top, and he reluctantly removes it once more, taking a seat on a free bed. You see his issue, a common rash splaying across his shoulders from where his armour has been rubbing his skin through his blacks.

“You’re the new medic?” He sounds more nervous than you are, his jaw tensing when you run your fingers along the rash, checking for any signs of infection.

You give a small hum, confirming he’s correct as you step away. “And you are?”

“Echo. I, uh.. Wasn’t expecting a Civ?” They never do.

“Not infected, by the way, it’s just irritated.” You seek out a steroid cream, which you conveniently just restocked. “Here, use this twice a day, and keep the area as dry as possible.”

He gives you a short, formal nod before he redresses, correctly this time, and leaves the room with his face almost as red as his rash. 

You’ve moved onto another crate when you catch the movement from the corner of your eye, somebody passing the door to the Medbay. You think nothing of it until you see the figure again, this time he slows slightly to glance inside the room.

He walks past a third time - and then a fourth.

On what would be the fifth time you poke your head out slightly to watch him walk almost to the end of the hallway, just to turn around and begin his lap back past the door. He stops in his tracks when he sees you looking curiously at him, but quickly recovers even though he’s been caught, and strides back towards you. You catch a glimpse of a tattoo on his temple, but it’s his grin, framed by neatly trimmed facial hair, that seems to distinguish him from other clone troopers you’ve come across. It’s cocky, confident, and warm. Especially warm when he takes hold of your hand and presses it to his lips in a greeting that makes it feel as though you’re trapped in a boiler room, overheating.

“I’m Fives, and you are?”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You were settled between Echo and Fives, the three of you with empty cups waiting for the next round of the game. Each round you had to take a shot based on your answer to the question, which so far had ranged between ‘If you’ve been shot by a droid’ - which Rex groaned at, and ‘If you ever fucked a girl in the 79’s fresher’, which made several of the men cheer. 

Your heart sinks a bit when Fives drinks at that one, recalling the night just over a month ago on Coruscant. 

You had all been there together, his arm slung around your shoulder in the booth as you both laughed at some fleeting joke made by Jesse. You had grown closer, close enough to the point that he got teased relentlessly by his brothers for calling you his ‘best friend’ whilst under the influence of some strong pain medication in the Medbay. 

You left to get some more drinks from the bar when Sinker approached you, a spark of recognition in his eyes. You were trying to focus on ordering the drinks, blushing as you attempted to turn down the Sergeant who was whispering over-sweetened things in your ear at how he wished you’d stayed with the 104th for longer.

You smiled in thanks when Echo came to help, claiming he saw that you may need help with carrying the drinks. You were grateful for the assistance, laughing with Echo under the usual volume of the crowd until you caught sight of your best friend, stumbling through the crowd towards the fresher, his hand intertwined with a beautiful Twi’lek girl.

You remember how Echo looked at you as he realised the reason behind your tightened jaw and hoarse voice when you excused yourself for some air. You couldn’t stand the sympathy in his eyes, the eyes that looked identical to those of your best friend, the man you were in love with. 

So much for being unattached.

“It wasn’t that good.” Fives nudges your knee with his own, pulling you from your thoughts. A casual smirk plays on his lips and you’re about to laugh off the comment, ready to deflect the attention from your friend, when his twin interrupts you.

“Yeah, cause you couldn’t get it up!” Echo slurs as he leans against you, clutching his cup as some of the amber liquid sloshes down your chest before he apologises and wipes the stain above your breast with hazy eyes. Fives catches his brother's wrist, pushing it away from your chest lightly, and your mind races at Echo’s statement - Fives hadn’t slept with the Twi’Lek girl?

“Shut up, Vod.” Fives grumbles, his fingers tightening around his own cup as he looks away from the two of you. A blush, that must just be from a mix of alcohol and annoyance, creeps up to his face. Thankfully as most of these questions have been related to battle or women, you’ve barely drank, so you can at least try to be rational and push away thoughts that creep into your mind of how you think Fives would take you against the wall of a fresher stall. You can ignore the contemplation on if he would show restraint, or if he would make the walls shake.

“How about this - take a shot for how many people you’ve slept with,” Jesse calls out to the small group of you, an intoxicated grin on his face. Several hands reach for the last remaining bottle at once, ready to fill their cups, each of their owners immediately wanting to show off to the rest of the room's occupants.

“No!” Kix’s hand is the fastest to snatch the liquor away, holding it close to his chest plate.  “We are not looking after you all in the Medbay with alcohol poisoning!” He gestures between you both, and Jesse bargains, coming to a compromise for 1 shot for every certain number, but the specifics of the round are drowned out by your own heartbeat.

Your body stills and you look down to your half full cup. It would be easy to drink, to lie to yourself and those around you. You don’t even have to drink more than once and yet you just continue to stare at your reflection in the liquid, it’s as if the cup were judging you.

“You know you’re supposed to at least drink once, right?” Fives whispers in your ear.

“Yeah, just got distracted trying to work out which of your brothers are definitely exaggerating,” You nod, taking a sip from the cup as you avoid his eyes that burn you more than any liquor ever could. You place the empty cup at your feet and lean your head against Echos, managing a small smile at how he’s snoring against your shoulder. 

Fives gives a small hum of thought, finishing his own drink before placing the empty cup next to you, allowing his finger to linger on the rim for a moment. Your gaze is focused on the way the traces of liquor coat his fingertips, making the battle-calloused skin glisten. You close your eyes, trying to fend off the thoughts of how the whiskey tainted fingers would taste on your tongue, and the mental image of them coated in something sweeter than the alcohol.

“Remember the first time I dragged you here?” Fives’ amused tone forces your eyes open, his warm hand settling on your knee and he taps his fingers rhythmically, almost to the same beat as your unsteady heart.

It had been just over one standard month, one of your longest posts so far, and you were already finding yourself anxious that you could be transferred away at any moment. If you had told yourself just over a month ago that in your new assignment with the 501st that you would wake to two half-drunk troopers in your room, begging you to come play Sabbac with them, you would have diagnosed them with battle induced psychosis.

“Well, not with us-” Fives starts, rummaging around the small closet for something you could wear over your sleeping vest.

“For us.” Echo finishes, practically pulling you out of your bed with an eager nod as Fives approaches you with something in his hands.

“Hands up, sweetheart.” In your tired state, you obey thoughtlessly, allowing Fives to slip the sweatshirt over your head. His fingers trail down your sides, eliciting goosebumps across your skin as he pulls the heavy fabric down over you, and between the contact and his name for you, your heart skips a beat. It nearly stops when he winks before turning away to get your shoes.

Clone Troopers were often flirty, but over the last month, Fives seemed determined to earn the title of being the biggest flirt. Regardless which of his brothers got sick or minorly injured, he was always the one pulling them through the door and would then spend the entire time sweet talking you. Just last week, Rex had nearly concussed himself on a pipe and looked like he wanted to hit Fives who didn’t stop talking the whole time you examined the injury.

“And why do you need me to play for you? I’ve never even played before,” You swallow thickly, sliding your feet into the shoes as the twins guide you from your room, both of their hands on your back, ushering you down complex hallways that all look identical.

“Fives got caught cheating, so we both got banned,” Echo rolls his eyes, placing the blame on his brother, who begins telling you the rules of the game, which they are playing a slight variation of given that they only had items to bet, not credits. You had reluctantly allowed them to bring a full bottle of rather expensive vodka you had purchased last time you were on Coruscant.

“You did not wake up the new medic just to get her to play for you.” Jesse groans, and Rex begins apologising to you for his brothers, ready to scold them for waking you up, but you raise your hand to stop him.

“It’s no bother.” You shake your head, remembering Fives and Echo’s advice to act confident - so really you just had to ask yourself ‘What would Fives do?’

“You know how to play?” Kix asks, surprised by your sudden change in demeanour. He had been used to you keeping your head down in the Medbay, following orders, not showing up with a bottle of alcohol to bet on and Fives’s arm slung around your shoulder.

“Oh please, I’ve been playing Sabbac longer than some of you have been out of the tube.” You feel Fives give your shoulder a proud squeeze at your lie as he places the bottle of vodka on the makeshift table, and you both take a seat, “Deal me in?”

After several rounds of you finding your feet in the game, Fives drops his hand to your waist, giving it a squeeze - he’s signalling to go in for the kill. You turn your head slightly to look into his eyes, and he gives a slight nod that doesn’t go unnoticed by your opponents, he’s making it look so sure you’re going to win, but in reality your cards weren’t good. 

 You and Rex were down to the last cards, everyone else had folded. Either of you could have the winning hand, but if one of you backed out now before your cards were revealed, you could at least keep your own stake in the game. It was about the bluffing now, and thankfully you were good at that.

“Well, Captain?” You and Fives lean backward in sync. You press the cards to your chest, hiding how they’re on the verge of shaking from Fives’ grip on your waist, but also to hide your tell. It’s a small, barely noticeable movement, your forefinger running along the edge of your thumbnail -  a nervous movement that Rex hasn’t noticed past your arrogant smile that perfectly mirrors Fives’. “What’ll it be?”

There’s a short beat where the room is silent and you hold the gaze of the Captain, all of the others staring between you both like it’s an intense standoff. He looks away first, tossing the cards down with a huff as he backs out, giving the win to you; he actually had a good hand. 

“Oh and by the way, sir,” You lay your cards down, revealing that you had already gone bust, over the number limit to win. “I’ve never played Sabbac in my life.” You grin at the shocked expression on his face that melts into a warm smile and you’re enveloped into a hug from Fives while Echo reaps your winnings from the table.

After you all decide to have a drink from the bottle you bet with, the tiredness catches up to you, and you struggle to stay alert with the alcohol that casts a haze on your mind. 

“C’mon, I’ll take you back.” Fives nudges you, picking up the half-full bottle of vodka as he pulls you to your feet, shaking his head in amusement when he tugs a bit too hard and you fall into his chest. “Already falling for me, sweetheart?” his voice is low, something that can only be heard between the two of you in the room full of his boisterous brothers.

You roll your eyes in amusement, a defence against how the whisper makes heat spread throughout your body. You take a half step back, placing the empty cup on the crate as you exchange a short goodbye with Echo.

“I’m gonna walk our lovely medic here back to her room, I’ll be back soon,” Fives gives a mock salute as you both make your exit and you try to ignore the whistle from one of the men as Fives chuckles, shaking his head. “Animals aren’t they, Mesh’la?”

You hadn’t known this side to any of the clones you’d served with, albeit you were just a medic, none of them had ever been this relaxed around you. The entire time you had been in the GAR, it had been lonely. There was no one to celebrate with after battle, no late night conversations between friends, no one to just sit with and cry when you weren’t able to save a life. But walking through the corridors with Fives somehow made it all worth it.

“You did great, sweetheart, I’m impressed.” Fives brings the bottle to his lips, taking a swig of the clear liquid as you stop outside of your door. “You’re just full of surprises aren’t you?” His tongue darts out to lick the vodka off his lips and you can’t help but let your eyes linger there after the action. His gaze is already meeting yours when you look up, heat flickering in his eyes like the flame of a candle - he’s caught you staring.

Fives’ hand comes up to hold your waist once more, his grip tighter now, drawing you closer like you were a flower he wanted to admire. The scent of vodka from his breath intoxicates you, and you find yourself hypnotised, leaning closer. You don’t know what causes it, but at the last moment he freezes, his hand falling from your waist to press the panel outside your door, opening it.

“Goodnight.” He gives a tight-lipped smile before stepping away, walking back down the corridor in the direction of the barracks. Despite the heavy sweatshirt and warmth of the vodka in your blood, you feel empty as you enter your dark room. You find yourself lying awake in your bunk as you work through a mixture of disappointment, embarrassment, and something that ignites an ache between your thighs. 

He stopped himself from kissing you, and you didn’t know why.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

You know your way back, he doesn’t need to walk you, yet he always does. It’s been almost 8 standard months since you were transferred to the 501st, you could practically navigate your way around blindfolded. So, you know you're about to turn onto the corridor your room is on when he speaks.

“You didn’t drink.” 

Your mouth goes dry, it’s like you’ve just eaten a whole pack of ration crackers while sitting in the Tatooine desert with no water. The lights above feel harsher, as if you’re under a spotlight on the Medbay examination table, and Fives is the one inspecting you. He’s peering at you from the corner of your vision, gauging your reaction to his statement. 

“What are you talking about, Fives?” You shrug in an attempt to appear nonchalant, but unfortunately due to his metabolism he was as sober as you, meaning he was just as observant. You couldn’t brush off his attention when he places a hand on your shoulder, stopping you in your place just as you round a corner. From here you can see the door to your room, the third from the end. It’s taunting you at how close you were to getting away with the secret you’d been keeping against your chest.

“You know exactly what I’m talking about,” His free hand grasps your chin between his thumb and forefinger, directing your attention to him. You swallow as he draws your face closer, eyes raking over your features as he gives a small shake of his head. “You didn’t drink.”

“Yes I did.” Your voice is impressively steady, you’re good at bluffing. Fives already knows this, but he knows you better, and his eyes dart down in search of something. Your fingertip presses against the edge of your thumb in a movement that Fives had catalogued in his brain since that day you beat Rex at Sabbac.

The credit drops. You can see the moment it registers in Fives’ brain as his jaw goes slack, his grip on your chin loosening.

“Are you a- mph!” Your hand covers his mouth and you push him to the wall before he can shout aloud what you’ve kept unsaid for your whole time in the GAR. Fives was an ARC trooper, he could easily push you away, but his muscles seem to weaken against your grip. You feel the resistance in his body melt under your touch, as his eyes soften just above where your hand covers his mouth.

“I know you’re a loud mouth but please,” Your voice is low, urgent, as you give him a warning look, your face burning from embarrassment as he’s just come to the realisation of why you didn’t drink. You didn’t have any number to drink for. You can see him linking it together in his head - why you turned down flirtatious advances from his brothers, why he walked you back alone after every late night. It was why your body was so responsive to every small touch and honeyed word from his lips; like a flower chasing fleeting sunlight in the late afternoon. “Just this once, Fives, keep your voice down.” 

Fives gives a short nod down at you, assuring you he’ll be quiet. His fingers loop around your wrist, tugging your hand from his mouth. You unsuccessfully try to ignore the way his lips had felt against your skin, you’re so caught on the small patch of wetness on your palm that you miss the clench of his jaw and flash of emotions in his eyes.

“You’ve really never..?” He trails off, the words settling into the small gap between you, they’re not taunting or teasing, they’re simply disbelieving. Even though he’s released your wrist now, it’s still suspended in the air, as if you’ve been frozen in carbonite. You’re afraid to move away, that it would be just like all those months ago, that the moment would be shattered and lost.

Your breaths are mingling together, you’re like an asteroid orbiting, drawing closer and closer to his planet, bracing for impact. Fives is unblinking, waiting for the answer he already knows, but needs to hear for himself. 

“No.” 

Something stirs in the depths of Fives’ eyes and there’s a tension you could almost reach out and grasp from the air. Your body acts on its own, hand breaking free from its frozen stupor to find interest in a small scar on his jaw. You remember treating the small cut, he never even flinched, but you had let him hold your hand anyways. ‘It’s for comfort’, Fives had told you, accompanied by the usual sly wink that made it all the more difficult for your free hand to remain steady when you cleaned the cut.

Fives’ eyes slip closed when your fingertips graze against the shining scar, his breathing becoming carefully controlled. You recognise the pattern, it’s the same pace it was during the times he would take you to the training rooms, his body pressed to yours as he taught you to shoot. He would chuckle into your ear when your hands would shake, causing you to miss.

Your hands are steady now, no signs of the trembling are evident when you raise your attention higher. Your finger traces its way over the inky ‘5’ on his temple, and you’re about to move it away but you find yourself held in place, fingers still pressed against the tattoo.

Fives’ constant touches were always casual, fleeting, and meaningless. But this? This was deliberate. 

His gloved hand is circled around the bare skin of your wrist once more, keeping your fingers pressed against his temple. After a short, breathless moment, he moves your hand, but not to push it away this time. He pulls it closer, making your fingers trace across his cheekbone, against his warm skin all the way on a deliberate path to his mouth. 

Fives’ lips ghost across your fingertips and in contrast to his rough exterior and battle scarred skin, they’re soft. Just above the point of your fixation is his heavy stare, focused and serious, like you’re his target in the heat of battle.

Your heart is thrumming against your ribcage like blaster fire and you wonder if he can feel the pulse in your wrist through his gloves at the sheer force of it. There’s barely any space between the two of you, and it only lessens with every beat of your heart.

“Just… stay still for a second, please,” Fives’ eyes burn into yours and he’s like a black hole orbiting you, pulling you in with his gravity. “Can you do that for me, sweetheart?” His voice is a strained whisper, just cosmic background noise, all you can focus on is how his breath fans across your lips. 

His eyes close again when you nod, and you allow yourself to slip away into the same darkness as he consumes all of your senses.

The touch is light, a soft brush of his lips against your own, and the gentle contact has a shiver running through your body. His hand has placed your palm back to his jaw, covering it with his own as he pulls you in deeper. The second kiss is more confident, the swipe of his tongue over your lower lip has the world around you dissolving into a meaningless void as he becomes the centre of your universe. 

Before you can part your lips for him, Fives pulls away, just enough so he can look at you. There’s a dazed expression on his face, like he’s been concussed but is strangely happy about it. The momentary bewilderment melts away into an unusually shy smile and he’s about to kiss you again when you’re interrupted. There's laughter echoing from the direction you just came and Fives pulls back further, a suddenly serious look taking over his face.

You’re filled with a strange sense of deja vu when he steps away, your heart already sinking. Before you can open your mouth to apologise for getting carried away, to try and repair whatever strain the kiss could have put on your friendship, you’re being pulled along by his gentle grasp. Fives is making urgent paces down the short walk to your door, slamming his free hand to the control panel to get you both away from whatever prying eyes may have stumbled upon your private moment.

The door whooshes down to swallow you both in the darkness of your room and just like all those months ago, your back is pressed against the cool durasteel door. Only this time, you’re on the other side of it.

You immediately miss the warmth his body has been providing you with when he walks over to your desk, fumbling in the darkness from your lamp switch. Your lips still tingle from where his own were pressed against yours, and you swear you can still taste him.

The room is poorly illuminated from the dim bulb, but it's enough to highlight the figure of Fives leaning over your desk and you take in the full sight of him. He’s still wearing his armour from the waist down, but his upper half is only dressed in his tight blacks, and the lamp casts shadows that accentuate every ridge of muscle. It’s times like this where you’re reminded the man in front of you isn’t just your best friend, but also a highly decorated ARC Trooper, a man who spends most of his days in battle.

The serious look doesn’t leave his face, even when he’s moved back in front of you, blocking out the rest of your room with his large frame. At some point in the darkness, Fives has removed his gloves, allowing you to feel the rough skin of his hand as it cups your face. His thumb tugs at your lower lip, smearing saliva across the swollen skin as he teases the sensitive flesh. You can make out the apprehensive desire in his eyes as he marvels down at your mouth, before looking up to meet your gaze once more.

“Kriff, I…” His voice is light, and there’s an uncertain, almost desperate edge to it before he swallows it down. “Sweetheart, do you want this?” 

It would be easy to lie to the both of you and back out. You never expected to meet anyone when you enlisted into the GAR straight from your medical school. Back then you had wanted to be a doctor, it was expected of you by your family, you sacrificed your entire social life to work for it. 

You were never given the luxury of free-time, how could you ever have met anyone when all you did in your later teen years, when all your friends were partying and meeting their partners, was study? It was never a case that you didn’t want to be with anyone, but life simply prevented you from it. You were in your third year when the war broke out, two more years at the university and you would have graduated, but instead you decided to take your study credits and enlist as a medic. In less than a standard rotation from the moment you notified the university, you were on a transport to your first assignment.

You had let your work and the war rob you of so many experiences, you wouldn’t let them take this from you too. You wouldn’t let them take him from you too.

“Yes, Fives.” You nod, allowing your hands to rest on his broad shoulders. You’re sure of this, sure of him.

“Tell me to stop,” There’s a hunger in Fives’ eyes when you say his name and his lips press back to yours in a kiss that’s over far too quickly. “At any time, tell me to stop.” He’s holding your face still, unmoving until he has your consent.

“Okay.” There’s no reluctance in your tone, just a breathless need that makes Fives’ jaw tick.

Fives exhales, his shoulders relaxing and your eyes close again in anticipation, awaiting his kiss. But instead you feel the heat of his forehead press to yours, as if he’s anchoring himself against you, just for a moment.

“Okay, sweetheart.” His mouth is instantly on yours, his right hand still cups your jaw, but his left slips around your back in search of the zip on your uniform. He makes quick work of pulling the zipper down to loosen the material from your skin, and both hands travel down to your hips, tugging at the edge of the fabric.

“Hands up.” Fives’ voice is low in your ear as he presses a kiss to your hairline, and you raise your arms, allowing him to slip the top from your body. He discards it on the floor, not wanting to waste any time that could be spent with his hands on your exposed skin.

Fives is slower this time. Each movement is purposeful when he guides you both towards your small bunk, his tongue slipping past your lips in a kiss that makes you dizzy as you taste him in your mouth. 

When the back of your knees meet the edge of your bunk, Fives’ lips begin to trail down your body. His path starts at the soft skin of your now exposed cleavage, and continues down past your bra, over the smooth skin of your stomach. There’s a soft scrape when his armour makes contact with the floor, he’s dropping to a kneeling position with his lips hovering over your abdomen. You look down at the man kneeling before you with his fingers hooked in the waistband of your uniform leggings, and you can’t help but smile. Fives pauses momentarily, sending a wink up at you before he tugs the fabric down, exposing the flesh of your legs. 

“Lay down.” Fives whispers, and you can feel his warm breath tickle your stomach.

You settle backwards onto the bunk, allowing Fives to remove your leggings entirely, along with your shoes. You’re left in just your simple, black GAR issued bra and panties. It’s nothing special by any means, but Fives eyes you as if you’re an oasis he’s stumbled upon in the middle of a month-long battle. One meant only for him.

You let your eyes slip closed as you hear the familiar noise of his armour being removed, clattering to the floor. It’s something you’ve heard many times when he’s come to relax with you on an evening and you find yourself counting each piece removed as a distraction until bare fingers brush your knee. It’s a comforting touch to draw you back to him.

“Open your eyes, sweetheart, look at me.” Fives is sat just between your legs, bare aside from tight boxers that leave little of his anatomy to the imagination. You already knew what clones looked like naked, you had treated enough of them to not be phased by any part of their body. But a clone on a Medbay table was different to your best friend whose lips were pressing to the soft flesh of your inner thigh. “Is this okay?”

He inhales against your panties and you attempt to swallow your embarrassment and nervousness at the sight of your friend between your legs with only a thin layer of fabric between you. The sight of his ever-present smile between your legs sends a flood of heat through your body before it concentrates in your lower stomach.

When you don’t reply immediately, he pulls back slightly, giving the thigh he’s hooked over his shoulder a light squeeze. His brown eyes are filled with concern, searching your expression for any hesitation. 

“You still with me?” His thumb traces patterns against your skin, each movement only encouraging the fire in your body.

“I’m still with you,” You nod, watching as something lights up in his eyes. “What are you-“ 

Fives immediately silences your question with an action. His wet, open mouth presses to your thigh again and you feel yourself exposed to him when he hooks a finger in your panties, pulling them to the side. 

“I’m taking my time with you Mesh’la.” His hot breath fans over your now exposed cunt and you fight the urge to clasp your legs together, you’ve never felt more vulnerable lying in your bunk, entirely bare to the person you trust most and it’s a vulnerability that makes your heart race as if you’re under attack. 

Fives seems to sense your nervousness as he holds your knees firmly apart with his shoulders and free hand, keeping your legs open for him to litter small kisses on your inner thighs, all the while keeping you exposed for him. 

“Focus on me, Cyar'ika.”

Before your apprehension can get the better of you, Fives is licking a slow, experimental stripe up your slit, parting your folds with his tongue. His eyes are on yours the whole time, studying the awed look on your face and gasps of pleasure when his tongue runs over your clit.

Fives shakes his head, grumbling something under his breath. Before you can decipher it, he’s using one hand to lift your hips from the bed while his other practically tears the panties from your body, leaving you in just your bra. Strong hands move to grip the top of your thighs and pull you to him so he can secure his mouth to your core without obstruction, filling the room with wet, desperate noises as he laps at your cunt. 

Your hands twist in the thin bed sheets, desperately searching for something to ground you as his tongue delves inside you. His mouth is attached to you like you’re his last meal before an execution, the first drop of water after a mission on a desert planet, something he’s denied himself for far too long.

One of his fingers circles your entrance and your eyes snap open, finding him already looking up at you with a question in his gaze, asking for permission. You can only nod, not trusting your ability to speak with Fives’s tongue dragging slow circles around your clit. 

Your head slumps back to the floor when he proceeds with your consent, the sensation is entirely foreign as you feel his digit sink into you, testing your tightness. Your own fingers were nothing in comparison to his, even just the one is beginning to stretch you.

“Fives…” Your breathless plea encourages him and your teeth sink into your lower lip as he adds another finger to stretch you further. You let out a small whimper at the slight burn and he slows his movements slightly to allow you time to adjust.

“Shh, Mesh’la,” He changes the angle slightly, massaging his fingertips against the walls of your cunt as they search for a particularly sensitive spot. Your body jolts, arching towards him when he finds it, and a moan escapes you. “That’s it, relax.” 

The heat in your core is building as you grow wetter, making it easy for him to work his fingers into your tight hole, only adding to the growing pleasure building in every part of you, begging to escape. He presses his thumb to your swollen clit, one goal in mind.

“Need to make sure you’re ready for me, Cyar'ika.”

Fives withdraws his fingers from your gushing cunt, his hands instead moving from under your thighs and securing themselves back to their original position on your knees, keeping your trembling legs open as he continues to suck lightly on your clit when you reach your climax. Your body shakes, set alight with pleasure that’s only intensified by the way his head rests against your thigh, looking up at you as if committing the moment to memory.

When you finally relax against the bed, the pleasure having temporarily robbed your body of energy, you expect him to be done and move onto the next step. Instead, he lets out a low chuckle and begins circling your clit with his thumb once more. 

“Do you think you can give me another one, Mesh’la?” His soft smile contrasts his words, but his eyes gleam with mischief when you whisper a small ‘yes’ in response.

He’s using just his fingers this time, two of them working you in a scissoring motion, stretching your walls as his other hand slips between you and the mattress. His fingers expertly find the clasp to your bra, freeing you from the last item of your clothing.

His pupils are dilated, drinking in the sight of your writhing body, now entirely bare for him. He leans back slightly, taking in every detail, something between a smile and a smirk on his lips when his eyes focus on his own fingers pumping in your tight hole. The moment he feels your orgasm hit, cunt tightening around his fingers, he descends on you once more. Teeth pulling at your nipple, his thumb secured to your clit as he lets you ride out your orgasm, your hips attempt to grind up against his hand, chasing pleasure.

The world is falling back into place around you when he shifts his weight on the bed, and you hear the final piece of clothing hit the floor.

Fives is kneeling in front of you, a hand on each of your knees as you take in the sight of his bare body. His large cock makes the breath hitch in your throat, but he presses a soft kiss against your lips, prepared to ease the tension that threatens to overwhelm your body. His eyes are filled with a warmth that reassures you when he pulls back to press another kiss against your forehead, “You can take it, Cyar'ika, I’ll go slow.”

Fives settles his hips between your parted thighs, hooking one of your legs over his waist to keep you open beneath him. Soft lips ghost over yours and you feel the head of his cock settle against your entrance.

“Are you ready?” His thumb brushes along your jaw, a loving reminder that it’s your best friend above you, the person you trust the most. The same man who you would stay up with late at night after every difficult battle, who you would always pick up an extra ration bar for, the man you were in love with. 

“Yes.” Your eyes slip closed as you press your lips back to his.

The initial pressure of his cock entering you gives way to a sharp pinch that causes you to suck in a sharp breath through your teeth. Despite all of Fives’s efforts to prepare you, the unfamiliar pain seizes your body in an uncomfortable grasp.

“Relax for me, Cyar'ika.” He murmurs the assurance against your mouth, forcing his own breathing to slow, unconsciously prompting you to calm down. A hand presses to the underside of your thigh, pushing it upwards as he rolls his hips into you, he’s only halfway inside and you try to force yourself to relax around his impressive girth.

“That’s my girl.” He groans into your neck as his hand drops from your thigh to drag precise circles around your tight clit. The added layer of stimulation makes you gush around the half of his length inside you, making it easier to take his cock, but he doesn’t push any deeper. Instead he rocks his hips in a shallow motion, allowing you to adjust to this size first.

“Shh, don’t worry, Mesh’la,” He strokes your hair, continuing to press soft kisses of assurance to your mouth as he works your clit in time with his shallow thrusts. “It’ll be easier once you cum with me inside you, then you’ll be more relaxed for me.”

Fives’ hips pick up their pace, but he still limits himself, expertly watching your body's reactions to his cock. He’s continuously ensuring he doesn't go too fast, too hard, too deep. It’s a balancing act, one he seems to be perfect at with the way he already has the beginnings of another orgasm taking grasp of your body.

“Fives!”

You’re grinding helplessly against him now, one hand on his tanned chest and the other grasping at the short hair on the back of his head. Between Fives’s whispered words of adoration in your ear, you can make out the wet noises as he thrusts inside you, each movement causing more of your wetness to drip between your joined bodies, smearing you both with your arousal.

You’re hooked onto his words like a lifeline as he guides you through the experience.

“Kriff-” He shakes his head as he takes in the sight of you cumming around his cock. But it’s not lust in his eyes, it’s something far more intense. “I promised I wouldn’t do this..” His voice is strained, like he’s trying to keep the words inside of him. 

Before you can even catch your breath fully to ask what he means, your world is spinning when he pulls you upwards, slotting himself underneath you so you can no longer try to read the emotions in his face. Your back is now pressed to his chest, his body supporting you to stay upright and he’s hooking his right hand under your knee, spreading you apart.

His chin rests on top of your head, the position allowing him a full view of your body as his cock enters your cunt from behind; it’s more than before, but still not the full length. Your right arm curls up around behind you to hold the back of Fives’ neck, needily pulling him closer in the moment as you writhe against his body.

“Look at that, Cyar'ika,”  You feel the rumble in his chest just as much as you hear it, and it draws your attention down to your joined bodies. He shifts slightly to support your head as you catch glimpses of his cock disappearing into your tight hole in a series of shallow, restrained thrusts. “Look how perfectly we fit together.”

His eyes remain locked on your body, the way your chest heaves and cunt tightens, dripping down his cock as you cum once more, you’re already losing count. From what you were always told by friends when you were in University, losing your virginity was supposed to be a far cry from this. In fact you don’t think a single one of your friends had cum when losing theirs, and yet here you were, the room almost spinning from the pleasure Fives had given you.

Fives chuckles at the blissful look on your face as he pulls his hand from your clit, allowing you to relax against his larger frame. “You are really something else, Cyar'ika.” He’s slower this time when he rolls you both over once more, cradling the back of your head as he rests you back onto the pillows. 

He resumes his original position above you, thumb tracing the curve of your cheekbone. His eyes are full of adoration when he looks down at you, and there’s no trace of the painful stretch from earlier when he slides the full length of his cock inside you this time.

He’s been so focused on your pleasure that his own has been forgotten, but you see the evidence of it. He’s coated in a sheen of sweat that makes him appear like one of those glossy paintings in the art galleries on Coruscant. He’s an artwork, beautifully crafted, every muscle in his body coiled tight in restraint as his hips grind against yours. 

It’s your turn to touch him this time, to appreciate every bit of the vulnerability in his face as he presses his forehead against yours and you angle your face upwards to steal a kiss. A tortured moan escapes his lips as his thrusts only increase in speed, he’s clinging onto you like it’s his sole purpose.

“Where?” His breathing is ragged against your neck.

You make a confused noise in response and he curses something in Mando’a.

“Where do you want me to cum, Mesh’la, hm?”

You‘re speechless from the pleasure, but thankfully your body answers for you, already locking your legs around his hips to keep you joined together.

“Alright, Cyar'ika, inside it is.” There’s a soft rumble of amusement against your throat before his mouth finds yours again. One hand tangles in your hair while the other grips your hip, both of them seeking to drag you closer. You’re two stars colliding in the void of the universe, no longer orbiting each other, instead becoming one as your light drowns out all darkness around the pair of you.

His name is falling from your lips, cries of it suffocated against him when his tongue slips into your mouth. Fives empties himself inside you, his cock unloading a flood of warmth that already overspills, leaking from your cunt with every slow movement of his hips. He pulls back, an unreadable emotion in his eyes before he buries his face in your hair, distracting himself by stroking at your burning skin. You stay there as you both begin to calm, hearts beating in sync with one another as your bodies remain joined.

He’s breathing heavily in your ear, an affirmation that you haven’t died and ascended to some afterlife when he drags his hips away from yours, leaving you empty as he stands up. 

“Where are you going?” You hate yourself for sounding so needy, but with his cum leaking from between your thighs, how could you not. You knew it was common for men to leave straight after sex. You’ve caught some of the boys’ one night stands sneaking out barely ten minutes after they had been brought to the barracks, hair messy and clothes dishevelled. 

“Relax, sweetheart, I’m not leaving.” He winks at you before disappearing into the small fresher joined to your room. You hear the water running for what seems like far too long, before he returns with a warm washcloth.

“Gotta clean us up before we make a mess on the bed, I’m not falling asleep in a wet patch.” He settles back between your legs, whispering soothing praises as he cleans your combined fluids. He’s thorough, making sure there’s no trace of him left before he presses a kiss to your inner thigh and discards the cloth into your laundry basket.

“C’mere.” He settles down next to you, lifting an arm to allow you to curl up against him and he pulls the bed covers over your waists. “You did so well, sweetheart.” He presses a kiss to your forehead, basking in a moment neither of you want to end. It’s sweet, intimate, and perfect. 

Yet you can’t stop yourself from asking the question.

“What did you mean when you said you promised you wouldn’t do this?” 

He pauses, an awkward smile tugging at his lips, you’d never seen him nervous like this, a blush creeping into his cheeks that he can’t even blame on the sex. “Caught that did you?”

You nod, biting the inside of your cheek. Your cards were on the table, it’s only fair that his should be too.

“I suppose it’s only fair given that I didn’t let you get away with not drinking.” There’s a nervous edge to his laugh as he drags you closer to him, like he’s afraid you could disappear at any given moment.

“Do you remember the first time we played Sabbac, you kicked Rex’s ass, and I walked you back to your room?”

You nod slightly. The memory still plagued your thoughts on sleepless nights, it embedded itself in a playlist of embarrassing moments that liked to keep you awake. Yet, it also featured on the list of thoughts that had your legs twisted in the bed sheets as you imagine what would have happened if he did kiss you that night. 

“I wanted to kiss you, but I couldn’t.” He sighs regretfully, admitting the truth he had been fighting against all of the months since that night.

“I think you’d only been here for what - a month?” You feel his laugh against your cheek as it rumbles in his chest. “And I couldn’t get you out of my damn head, I even made Echo fake being sick once just so I had an excuse to come to the Medbay and talk to you.” You remembered, and now felt slightly bad for insisting you give Echo all those unnecessary virus and anti-nausea shots.

“I needed the excuses to see you, because if I didn’t, and I saw you without them, it’d mean something that I’d been avoiding.” He trails off, trying to find a way to put it into words, it wasn’t something he had ever been good at. But he would try, for you he would try.

“The rest of the boys found out because I called you my girlfriend once when Kix gave me some of the heavy stuff in those green syringes.” He laughs, shaking his head and your mind begins to put the pieces together, that’s why they teased him so often about it. “They all promised they wouldn’t tell you how I felt though - I wanted to be the one to tell you.”

He drags a hand down his face, his jaw tenses. “And then I got jealous when I saw that Sergeant from the 104th talking to you, how he had his hands on you,” He shakes his head, an irritated look playing on his face, both at the other trooper, and his own actions on that night. “Thought I blew my shot, and I tried to cover it the only way I knew how.”

Your mind recalls him and the Twi’lek making a beeline for the 79’s freshers, how just a month ago you ended up crying in the alleyway, it was like taking a blaster bolt to your chest. No amount of Bacta could fix the pain that night, but you had certainly tried to heal it with whiskey.

“But I didn’t do it, and it’s not like Echo said, not because I couldn't,” He pulls himself back from you, but continues to hold you, to keep you in the moment with him as he explains what happens, a regretful look on his face. “It’s because she wasn’t you, Cyare.”

He presses his forehead to yours, closing his eyes and your fingers trace over the tattoo again, just for a moment, just until he finds the strength inside of him; the strength to override his programmed instincts to be a loyal, unattached soldier and nothing more.

“I promised myself I wouldn’t…” Fives trails off, opening his eyes. He needs to see your reaction, whether it’s good or bad, he needs to know. “Fall in love with you.”

You wonder if this is what the Jedi feel with the force around them, but instead of the whole world, you just feel Fives. The warmth of his skin under your fingers, the certainty in his eyes, the utter devotion for you in his voice as he fights against every form of conditioning he’s received.

“Fives, you idiot…” His expression is concerned at first until he sees your teary eyes and beaming smile. “I love you too.”

You had loved him since the moment he kissed your knuckles on your first day in the Medbay, every interaction after that only strengthened the bond between you.

Fives smiles down at you, his quiet laughs tickle your skin with warm air as you’re lured back into his embrace. He laughs disbelievingly, shaking his head as he allows his body to press back against yours, a perfect fit.

“We have so much time to make up for, sweetheart.” 

You never want to lose this feeling, his lips marking your body, peppering reminders everywhere that you’re his, you have been since the moment that fateful order flashed up on your datapad. You’re anchored, attached, tethered to him - whatever word you want to give it, you’re his.

[cadaveerie]

Here are the transcriptions of the Backstory for Rook's factions in the Character Creator (with the different pronouns available + surnames):

GREY WARDENS

Surname: Thorne

BACKSTORY

Shield Against the Night

When innocent lives were at stake, Rook led the charge, saving a village from a monstrous nightmare--no matter the cost to herself/himself/themselves.

During a large darkspawn incursion, Rook was ordered to hold the line with other Grey Wardens until reinforcements arrived. Rook argued that by then, villagers under attack would be dead. She/He/They disobeyed orders, leading the squad into the incursion and sealing the tunnel to the Deep Roads. This turned the tide, and the darkspawn were driven off, which saved the villagers. Rook's heroism was popular among the younger Wardens, but others with connections to noble families resented her/his/their independent streak. Rook chose to step away while tempers cooled.

VEIL JUMPERS

Surname: Aldwir

BACKSTORY

Hunter of Secrets

When lives were at stake, Rook defied orders to rescue people from the mystic perils of Arlathan.

On an expedition to ruins in Arlathan Forest, the Veil jumpers found ruins that contained important lost lore and deadly danger. Barely surviving the ruins' ancient magical defenses, Rook's small team recovered and invaluable map leading to a hidden area of the forest. Although the team escaped, other Veil Jumpers found themselves trapped. Rook chose to return to the ruins, saving her/his/their teammates' lives, but losing the map. She/He/They was/were lauded for her/his/their bravery, but the map's loss caused some resentment among Veil Jumper leaders.

SHADOW DRAGONS

Surname: Mercar

BACKSTORY

Breaker of Bonds

Rook risked everything to liberate the enslaved people of Tevinter, even knowing it would anger the ruling elite.

The foundling Rook was adopted into a military family and joined the Shadow Dragons to fight from the shadows for change in Minrathous. While guarding a visiting dignitary who was investigating a slavery ring in the nearby city of Nessus, Rook concluded that the mission would fail without throwing caution to the wind. Alone, she/he/they sneaked the dignitary deep into Venatori-controlled zones and brought him back, along with the rescued slaves. These actions brought Rook to the Venatori's attention, and the Shadow Dragons decided to keep Rook out of sight.

LORDS OF FORTUNE

Surname: Laidir

BACKSTORY

Seeker of Gold and Glory

When a corrupt Rivaini noble double-crossed Rook, Rook escaped a collapsing ruin, turned the tables, and destroyed a dangerous artifact.

A rising Lord of Fortune, skilled at breaking into lost tombs and ruins, Rook killed a corrupt Rivaini noble to prevent an ancient evil from being given to the Venatori. Her/His/Their actions were correct and saved the lives of expedition members, but some Rivaini nobles were resentful. Because the success of the Lords' expeditions relied on Rivaini authorities looking the other way, it seemed wise for Rook to step away while tempers settled.

MOURN WATCH

Surname: Ingellvar

BACKSTORY

Defender of the Dead

When restless spirits threatened the inhabitants of the Grand Necropolis, Rook took the decisive action to protect both the living and the dead.

Discovered by undead inside a Grand Necropolis tomb as an infant, Rook was raised by Mourn Watch necromancers, eventually joining the order. During a "civil war" between undead nobility, known later as the War of the Banners, she/he/they led a daring attack on the rebellion's dueling leaders. It was a success, quelling the war and saving lives. But Rook's destruction of these undead nobles was controversial. Some Mourn Watchers feared Rook had offended the order's aristocratic patrons and encouraged her/him/them to travel for a while.

ANTIVAN CROWS

Surname: de Riva

BACKSTORY

Assassin Extraordinaire

When the invaders of Treviso took people captive, Rook was determined to free the prisoners at any cost.

A talented new Crow recently promoted to full membership, Rook chafed at the cautions of her/his/their commanders, especially with her/his/their city occupied by brutal soldiers known as the Antaam. When Rook saw a patrol herding along captives one night, she/he/they leaped into action. Despite saving lives, however, Rook had unknowingly compromised a larger Crow operation against the Antaam. Rook's superiors were incensed. Sidelined for her/his/their actions, the young assassin searched for new ways to prove herself/himself/themselves.

source :)

[elizabethemerald]

The Meeting

The Beginning of the New Pantheon: Part 3

Masterpost

“What do you mean, what?” Cassie demanded. ���Do you know about Olympus and the Hellenic gods?” 

“Yes, we know about the Greek gods!” Sam snapped. “We’re not stupid you know!” 

“I’m just asking!” Cassie put her hands up in surrender. “I wasn’t certain if I had actually stumbled into an alternate dimension where instead of Olympians the domains were managed by sentient mayonnaise and the oceans were filled with shredded cheese.” 

Her statement knocked both of them onto their back foot in a way that announcing she was on a mission from Zeus didn’t. Maybe they were used to higher powers reaching out with missions? 

“Has that actually happened?” Tucker asked. 

Cassie took a moment to think about all of the weird alternate realities she and Young Justice had gone through. 

“Uh… not exactly, but pretty close sometimes.” Cassie said. She pulled out her JL comm “Anyways! I’m going to call for backup. I can explain more once they are on the way.” 

“You probably won’t get very much range on that thing.” Tucker said, looking at her comm. 

“Wha…t?” She looked down at her comm in confusion. 

The top of the line Wayne Tech communication device that Red Robin had personally modded and improved even beyond the rest of the League’s equipment was now a generic two way radio. Like something fresh from the box at Radio Shack, from back when Radio Shack still existed and was popular. Her confusion changed to mounting horror as she pulled out the palm computer that was capable of hacking into the pentagon and instead revealed a flip phone capable of playing snake (maybe). 

“Ok, while not an alternate universe full of mayonnaise, Amity Park is still apparently trapped backwards in time, and all technology is forced to match. Cool. Cool. That might make calling for help a little difficult.” 

Sam looked sympathetic as Cassie tried to contain her freak out. Tucker looked curious at the thought of whatever advanced technology that might be available outside the city. Cassie took a deep breath and steadied herself. 

“I’ll go for help personally as soon as I can, but in the meantime, I’m here now. If you two or Phantom need any help, I’ll do whatever I can.” Cassie declared, her voice once more steady and sure. 

“How do you know Phantom?” Sam demanded. 

Before Cassie could respond or explain, a wailing claxon sounded, the loudspeakers screaming a warning of some kind. Both Sam and Tucker tensed and Cassie prepared for a fight, whatever was coming, she would be here to help. 

.

Donna gave a small sigh of relief as she touched down just outside Titans Tower. Nightwing was there to greet her, and it was clear that the rest of those she had asked for were already here. She led the way to the Tower’s war room. By the time she had settled at the head, the rest of the table was full. Not everyone present would be part of the New Pantheon, but she knew those who would be needed the support from the rest. 

“Thank you all for meeting me so quickly.” Donna started. “Diana, Cassie and myself have just returned after being summoned to Mount Olympus by Zeus himself.” 

Everyone in the room sat forward, laser focused on her. She had to take a steadying breath. Sure, Zeus had named her the next Queen of Olympus, and it would be her duty to guide and lead the New Pantheon, but she was not alone. She had friends here, allies, some who would share the responsibilities, some who would willingly follow her orders. They could take the domains of the gods and make something better of them, for the whole planet. 

“They gave us dire news, and a mission, a larger mission than any we have faced before.” She watched as the others tensed, ready to spring into action, so she raised her hands a little. “The Earth is not currently in any danger. The threat that they foresee will come in decades, not days.” The room relaxed, the air feeling breathable once more. “Since we have been given the time to prepare, we can prevent what they predicted from impacting the denizens of Earth.” 

“Well then, what is this threat, so that we may vanquish?” Damian demanded, his hand tightly grasping a weapon, his chest puffed out so he could make up for his short stature. Donna carefully hid, her grin, he would not appreciate being taken less seriously. 

“The Gods of Olympus are dying.” Donna said, then she continued on to explain what she, Diana and Cassie had been told. 

“I’m not certain I trust when they say that there is nothing that can be done.” Red Robin said, leaning forward while he thought. “We’ve faced impossible and improbable before and succeeded.” 

“That’s true, but in the meantime, we should consider the option that has been provided, successors to the gods chosen from among our numbers.” Donna said, she knew no matter what she said that there would be some of them who would try and find an alternative, she wasn’t certain there was one, Greeks in general and the Olympians in particular weren’t known for giving up without a fight, at least as long as they had any other option. 

“Who was chosen to be a successor?” Impulse asked, then zipped around to the other side of the table, an armful of snacks appearing in his arms. 

“I was chosen by Zeus to be his successor and the next Queen of Olympus.” Donna said. 

She had mentally braced herself for disparaging remarks or someone contesting her potential rule, instead she was surprised by the outpouring of support from her companions. Everyone seemed to feel that Zeus had chosen well and that she deserved her future role. 

“You definitely should be Queen, but I’m kind of surprised Cassie didn’t end up as Zeus’ successor considering the whole lightning lasso thing she’s got going on.” Kon said. 

“Cassie was chosen by Ares to be his successor.” 

Donna could see the other three members of Young Justice scowl at the God of War’s involvement, except Dick quickly snapped his fingers at them. 

“Hey let’s keep our diplomatic faces on for the time being. I’m sure some of us aren’t happy with some of these decisions, but the last thing we want is for this to devolve into an unnecessary conflict with the Olympians.”

She smiled at him, glad for his support. The Olympians ruled through a monarchy, and the League teams knew they needed a single leader during a crisis, but maybe this New Pantheon could rule with something more egalitarian. 

“And speaking of our Boy Wonder, Nightwing, you were chosen by Apollo to be his successor. The League’s Sunshine boy will be our God of Light.” Donna announced with a smile, but when she met Dick’s eyes she knew he could see more truth in her words. Apollo was not just a god of light, he was also a God of Truth, which made perfect sense for a detective like Dick. Plus there were few who could equal Apollo’s wrath when scorned. 

“Wait, does that mean he’s your kid?” The younger Superboy, Jon asked. 

“We are not literally becoming the gods, we are taking their place.” Donna said quickly before anyone could get any weird ideas. “So no one needs to marry their sibling, no one needs to eat their children, and I will not be leaving a bunch of demi-god bastards all over the planet.”

“If Cassie was chosen by Ares, where is she?” Impulse asked. “Did he already make her a god and we missed it?” 

“No. The Olympians agreed not to elevate anyone until all of their chosen successors were together. Cassie went to make contact with a group of heroes who were not in the League database.” Donna watched as Red Robin frowned and started to type on his wrist computer. “According to Cassie they weren’t even on the super secret Young Justice only database that the rest of us are supposed to pretend we don’t know about.” 

His frown grew more pronounced and Dick smiled and reached over and ruffled his hair. 

“So who are these heroes we’ve apparently never heard of, but have caught the attention of the Olympians?” Dick asked, half to take the attention off Tim and half out of genuine curiosity. 

“None of them have names I recognize, half of them don’t even have hero names, just regular civilian names.” Donna replied as she pulled out her copy of the list. She had less information on the new heroes as reaching out to them wasn’t her responsibility.

“Maybe it's something like Constantine?” Stephanie asked. “He’s always just known by his full name, even though his enemies call him the Hellblazer.” 

“They could also face magical threats of some kind.” Raven said, her hair floating a little and the shadow under her writhing for a moment. “Demonic incursions are usually handled without the input or knowledge of the rest of the League.”

Donna bit her lip. As a demi-god, Cassie was one of the better members of the younger heroes to face a magical threat, but it was very possible for her to get in over her head. She would trust the younger girl, but if she didn’t report back by the time the rest of Young Justice and the Teen Titans were informed and gotten over their respective fits about it, she would have to go herself to ensure that Cassie was safe. 

Though how much trouble could she really get into in the middle of the country?

[webslinger-holland]

The Sergeant's Senator | Chapter 1

Summary: It is revealed that there is a plot to assassinate a republic senator. With some negotiations, Clone Force 99 is assigned as the security detail and must protect the senator at all costs.

Warning: threat to one's life and talks of assassination

Pairing: Hunter x Fem!Reader Senator

Type: Short Series

Word Count: 1.1k

Series Masterlist

Note: Technically, this is a reader insert series. However, with that said, I did give the senator (reader) a last name. It worked better when writing; I didn't have to keep putting Senator L/n. Might change it later if people aren't fans of it.

The planet of Coruscant was one of the most important planets in the galaxy. Not only was the Jedi Temple located there, but so was the Galactic Senate. The senate included thousands of representatives through the galaxy in the form of senators. They met to create laws, meditate disputes, and discuss ways to end the war.

A meeting was being held in one of the meeting rooms at the senate, It had been called by Senator Bail Organa of Alderaan to discuss a recent incident that nearly claimed the life of Coruscan't own senator. The senator called Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi who brought Commander Cody to accompany him.

After formalities, Senator Bail Organa explained the delicate situation to both General Kenobi and Commander Cody. The incident happened only two nights prior and resulted in both of the young senator's guards being killed from unknown snipers. She was being targeted.

The young senator sat amongst the company of three, keeping to herself. Her hands lay in her lap though she couldn't help twiddling her fingers nervously. The sense of worry was laced across her face.

"I see," General Kenobi said after hearing the whole ordeal. He stroked his beard in thought. "This is a delicate situation," Kenobi added.

"Coruscant is the capital of the republic. Her role is vital for the success of the senate. Without her, the senate may fail and Coruscant will fall. If that happens, the Separatists will be able to gain the upper hand in this war," Bail Organa explained.

"How would you suggest we help?" General Kenobi inquired curiously.

"What she needs is a new security detail to keep her safe until someone catches the assailant," Senator Organa claimed. The much younger senator closed her eyes because she wanted nothing more than to disappear away from this conversation.

"Hmm," General Kenobi hummed. "I'll have to consult with the council. I'm not sure how many Jedi are available. Most of them are on missions off world."

"Would a clone force be more suitable for this situation? We clones are much more expendable than the Jedi," Commander Cody offered this solution.

The senator thought for a moment. "That could work. Who do you have in mind?"

"I would recommend Clone Force 99, sir."

Upon hearing this, Senator Rayna's ears perked up slightly. She would feel much more comfortable being around a group of clones than one lone Jedi. Though, General Kenobi's face fell upon hearing the name of the clone group. He quickly turned to his commander.

"Uh, Commander." He began. "Can I speak with you privately?"

Now General Kenobi and Commander Cody turned away from the two senators to speak in hushed tones. There was a brief moment of silence between them.

"Are you sure this is a good idea? I mean having a clone force escort is one thing, but Clone Force 99 is entirely different," Kenobi explained.

"They have a 100% success rate," Commander Cody defended.

"I understand. But they are a little on...the extreme side," General Kenobi added.

"If I might intervene," Senator Rayna spoke up for the first time. The two of them directed their attention to her as she stood from her place at the table. "If you think Clone Force 99 is a suitable fit to be my security detail, then I think we should skip all these formalities."

"Uh senator," General Kenobi stepped forward. "I'm not sure this is a very wise decision. Clone Force 99 is slightly unhinged at times," Kenobi explained to her.

"How so?" Senator Rayna wondered.

"Ah well..." Kenobi's voice trailed off.

"They call themselves the Bad Batch," Commander Cody stated blatantly. "They are a group of elite clone troopers with enhanced genetic mutations. They aren't like the regular clones you're used to."

"They don't go by the book either," General Kenobi added.

"But you said they have a 100% success rate," Senator Rayna concluded.

"They do," Commander Cody gave a nod of confirmation.

"Would you say that they are the best clone troopers you have out there?" She wondered.

"I will say this: While they might be a little unhinged at times and they may not follow orders like the rest of us, they are damn good soldiers and they get the job done."

"Thank you, Commander. That is all I need to hear," Senator Rayna finalized. "I look forward to meeting them."

Later in the day, a single file had arrived at the office for the senator which had been sent by the commander himself. Upon further review, the senator saw how page had a brief summary of every member on the small squad. It included their number, rank, skills, and their strengths. It also showed the number of successful missions they accomplished together.

The squad was comprised of a sharpshooter, a muscle man, a technological genius, a cybernetic hybrid (former reg), and a tactical tracker. They certainly were a bunch of misfits, but their track record alone spoke for them.

The senator stared down at the final page, which was designated for the squads sergeant. She found herself being more drawn to his page from the rest of them. He had been genetically altered to attain expert tracking skills and heightened senses.

Without much thought, the senator proceeded to send a comm to the commander once again. She waited a moment before her comm chimed a response. And she responded to him by asking him if he had anything else on this sergeant.

The Marauder was currently navigating through space. The Bad Batch had just completed a mission on one of the planets within the Outer Rim. Now they were heading back to their home world of Kamino.

In the other room, Hunter just finished receiving a message from Commander Cody. He switched off the communication channel before making his way into the cockpit of the ship to join his fellow brothers.

At the moment, Tech was putting in the coordinates for Kamino with Echo at his side in the co-pilot seat. Crosshair was polishing his sniper rifle and Wrecker was lounging with his feet up. The leader of the group made his way towards the control panel.

"Change of plan. We've got new orders," Hunter announced. This made Tech look up at him questionably. "Set course for Coruscant."

"What's on Coruscant?" Echo wondered. He knew the importance of the location, but he was more so curious about why they were needed there.

"We've been assigned to be a security detail for Coruscant's senator," Hunter relayed the information he was given.

"Doesn't she have guards for that?" Crosshair said with a roll of the eyes.

"That's just it," Hunter shrugged. "They're dead."

"There must be an imminent threat on her life, especially if the guards who are assigned to protect her are dead." Tech came to the conclusion.

"All I know is that she needs protection. And Commander Cody recommended us," Hunter told them.

"Great," Crosshair scoffed. He leaned back in his seat. "We get to play babysitter for who knows how long."

"It's just until she can find another detail or until the assailant is caught," Echo explained. He recalled one of his early missions. "You know, one of my first missions was to protect the Rishi Station Moon Base. Now that was a boring couple of rotations."

"Yeah, at least we don't have that kind of mission. Coruscant is much more exciting than some dumb old moon base," Wrecker explained.

But Crosshair wasn't super convinced. He crossed his arms over his chest in slight defeat, already knowing that they wouldn't be seeing as much action as they were used to.

"Preparing jump to hyperspace," Tech announced which drew them all out of their own thoughts. With the pull of the lever, the Marauder was shot into the glowing blue tunnel of hyperspace.

CHAPTER TWO HERE

Taglist:

@totally-not-your-babe @jedipoodoo @gyllord @roam-rs @totallyunidentified @redheadgirl @mrcaptainrex @whore-of-many-hot-men @graciexmarvel @qweenrogerina

NEXT PART DROPS ON FEB. 21ST SO IF YOU WANNA BE ADDED TO THE TAGLIST, LET ME KNOW!

[felassan]

Some more info on the Mass Effect board game, from co-designer Calvin:

"Hi all, Calvin here, co-designer of the game. I've gathered all the frequently asked questions on social media and bgg and gathered them into some answers for you. Feel free to ask more questions if yours is not answered, and if I can answer it I will. I will be updating this as more information about the game becomes available. Release info - The release date is (hopefully) November depending on the gods of shipping - Price is confirmed, the game will be $50/£40 - The team is currently working on translation deals for 9 or so languages. More details soon. - For info on pre-orders go to https://www.modiphius.net/pages/mass-effect-signup - There are currently no plans for a collector’s edition vs standard edition - It is not crowdfunded, the game is direct to retail - "If you'd like to support the game right now, there's nothing better than going into your local FLGS and asking them if they'll stock the game when it comes out. With the vast amount of great games coming out every week, retailers rely on fans asking about the game. This helps them gauge how much to buy, the more people ask, the more buzz they know there is, the more confident they are to buy enough and the more likely there's one waiting for you on the shelf when you go in :-) That feeds up the chain; the more retailers ask their sales reps at Asmodee, the more Asmodee goes, "Oh wait, let's order more, so we have enough for all the shops". Plot - The game is set on the planet Hagalaz, early during the events of Mass Effect 3 - The players are tasked with investigating a crashed Cerberus research cruiser which could have info that contributes to War Readiness and could help stop the Reapers - The game is designed so people who have never played Mass Effect can still enjoy it. Eric hasn't played the games as much as I did so he got to do what he calls “the meathead test” on all the theming and story. - We worked with Bioware on all the plot and theming. - Yes you can do calibrations in this game Basic game info - Co-operative squad tactics - 1-4 players - Included are six 32mm minis, masc Shep, fem Shep, Liara, Garrus, Tali, and Wrex - Not many other components to keep price and complexity low - 45 minute missions - 3-5 missions per campaign - Branching paragon/renegade choices + sidequests - Enough missions to replay the campaign several times without repeats - Solo play is really fun, in fact I like all the player counts equally, which is something I’m very proud that we were able to achieve in this game - Solo play is basically multi-handing, you control more than one character. - There is no legacy aspect, the game is fully resettable - There will be new original art"

[character limit text break]

"Gameplay info - Low rules complexity, but with lots of tactical depth. We aimed for an audience of Mass Effect fans who might not know anything about board games. Board gamers should still find something to enjoy if they’re into co-op tactics. - A group that just wants to turn their brain off and blast through the game should have an easy time - But a group who wants to get the best endings, complete all the sidequests, get all the level ups will have to min-max pretty heavily - The game has relatively low randomness. Planning, prediction, and preparation are very important to avoid bad outcomes - but there’s still enough randomness to avoid AP as players try to plan out perfect turns. - Important gameplay elements include positioning and combo-ing abilities with other players. - There is a tactical map. - Players will level up their characters by performing in game actions and learn new abilities. - We got all 6 Shepard classes in there. It is one of the things I am very proud of doing. - Re: alpha gamers, Eric and I do not believe it is the designer’s job to solve for jerks at your gaming table. Obviously we have designed the game so that every player has something to contribute and there’s plenty of info so that it’s hard to track. But we also recommend having adult conversations with your table partners. Interviews/Behind The Scenes Beyond Solitaire https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=q-nLGDt97i4 Topics: how we designed the game and implemented the narrative UKGE promo copy https://twitter.com/Modiphius/status/1796844231018811782/" Post last updated August 8th

[source]

New original art 👀

[fakescenariosbeforesleepblog]

Prisoner 505.

König x reader.

You're in a prison, why? War crimes, that's all König knew about you, you will be the new addition to KorTac, he's the one who will pick you up and take you to your new "home" what surprises will you bring to him? Will you be enemies, friends, lovers?

Warning: I'm trying to write this for a gn reader, but idk. Mentions of violence, spelling and grammatical errors.

📢 Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used nor do I claim to own them.

Pt.2

König wasn't ok with this mission, Why him? Someone else could do this, he hates every second of this, he left the car, walking to that giant black door, a prison, not any prison, this one is particularly a secret prison, not everyone knows about this place, it's a place that works with one purpose, First, take any dangerous people there to rot or let private contractors buy some of the prisoners, for what? Whatever they want, depending on every prisoner's record.

Yours, it doesn't say much about you. König observed the file on his hand once more while he remembered the conversation with O'Conor and the rest.

«Why me? Do I look like a fuckin babysitter? I'm not a fuckin' driver» «You're the best for this you will keep this new guy to line, I read was undisciplined»

Prisoner 505.

Name: (y/n) Age: unknown date of birth: unknown

Codename: Buitre 6-1

reasons for imprisonment:

War crimes (not specified), murders, torture, undisciplined, deserter (prisoner left his position after committing the aforementioned crimes, was captured and executed).

This prisoner was reported as 'killed in action' before the corresponding authorities, therefore, it does not exist in the system anymore, No more information available.

König sighed and walked Inside, the "waiting room" looked really fancy, he walked directly to the man sitting at the central desk, the man was fat but very well dressed.

- I came to pick a package...

The man looked up at him carefree, extending his hand to receive the file König had in hand.

- Ah... The 505, lemme check if they already finished.

The man took the phone, pressed some numbers and Called someone else.

«Did you finish? Someone came for his package... Ahh fuck, well that's Terrible, yeah... Pretty fucked up, I'll take him downstairs then, yeah... See you.»

He hung up the phone and smiled at könig, his smile is not kind, actually it is some darkness in it.

- Unfortunately, our prisoner is in his daily discipline session. You can wait here or we can go downstairs so you can see what you're buying, Sir.

König couldn't be more angry, waiting? Hell no, that was not an option.

- Downstairs, I don't have the entire day to wait for you.

- Follow me please.

Both walked to the elevator in silence, König was curious about that Discipline routine they're giving you.

- what's that shit about discipline session?

- Oh, you will see Sir. The prisoner is always getting in trouble, so we take drastic measures. This morning the 505 sent the prisoner 296 to the nursery, he has a broken jaw and lost one of his eyes.

How many levels does this place have? Floor 99. That's where you were. König didn't say more, that was enough information for him at the moment, finally, they arrived, he could hear some people laughing, the noise of water running and some insults.

«We're having too much fun as always (Y/n) but unfortunately we don't have much time anymore» «Fuck you, you and I know that I would kill you easily if I wasn't hanging and tie up here» «Shut up»

The man punishing you, was opening a Fire hose drenching you, while another was hitting you with a rope and other instruments on a table. There you were, half naked, wet, hurt, but the anger in your eyes doesn't let any sign of pain appear on your face. You looked at the two new people who appeared in the room, the tallest man was looking at you, What a pervert, you thought.

- Do You... Like what you're looking at, Big boy?

You laughed until the water and another hit silent you. König wasn't actually looking at your body, he was looking at the way you were being punished, lost in thoughts. The fat guard who came with König was laughing at you.

- As you can see, Sir, it's very... Enthusiast, a troublemaker.

- Ja... Anyway, I have to go... So, if you can finish now, that would be great.

- Of course. Put it down, dress up, and let us know when it's ready.

That was all, König and the guard left the room, you got dressed, tied up again and kicked out of your cell. You didn't have stuff or something, it was only your prisoner uniform, all black, you started to walk behind König and the guard, you noticed König's hunting knife on his belt, you approached them quietly, König didn't feel when you took his knife, he only heard a body falling on the floor, he turned himself quickly just to see the fat guard on the floor, chocking with his own blood, you were admiring your work and smiling at him.

«i warned you, Frank, the last thing you would see before you die it would be me» you whispered to him. Then you looked at König, cleaned his knife with your shirt and gave it to him, König took it and also took you by the arm, not hard but firm enough to show some authority.

- What have you done, huh? You can't be killing people every time you want, when you're under my watch you will obey me, Do you understand?

You looked at him with deer sad eyes and nodded In silence. Why did you look at him with those eyes? Thank God, König had the mask on, you couldn't see how he blushed just for that, he let your arm go and both ran to the elevator and left before someone saw the dead body. Once you were out, König just pointed at the car, you stopped and thought about it, you were finally free, you could run away and leave König there.

That's what you tried to do, König simply sighed annoyed, you were definitely a pain in his ass, you lost him, or... At least that's what you thought, you stopped to take some air, clearly you weren't in good shape. König hand around your neck took you by surprise.

- Listen, Püppchen (doll), you're free because of me, you're out of that place because a fuckin idiot in KorTac bought you, so don't make it more difficult, this is your only chance, will you work for us or I can take you back to rot in that fuckin' black hole. Hmm? What will you decide, Schatz?.

[warframestuff]

ST. PATRICK'S DAY 2024

SHAM-ROCK AND ROLL WITH CORPUS EVENTS, DARVO DEALS AND MORE IN MARCH!

Fancy wearing green all month long rather than just a day or two? You're in luck, Tenno — we're celebrating St. Patrick's Day in the Origin System throughout March! There'll be charming Corpus Weekend Alerts, Darvo Deals, a returning Shamrock Color Palette and loads more available until it's all clover!

CORPUS WEEKEND ALERTS

Three separate Corpus Alerts will be playable each weekend in March, yielding good fortune to anyone who partakes! There are returning items such as the Gauss In Action Glyph and Teshin Glyph, along with the all-new, all-elegant Rapier Tributaker Skin! Check out the tables below for a comprehensive breakdown of when and where each Mission will occur.

CORPUS WEEKEND #1

When: March 1 at 11 a.m. ET to March 4 at 11 a.m. ET Location: Venus, E Gate Mission Type: Exterminate Faction: CorpusEnemy Level: 20-25 Enemy Count: 100+ Rewards: 30,000 Credits, Teshin Glyph

CORPUS WEEKEND #2

When: March 8 at 11 a.m. ET to March 11 at 11 a.m. ET Location: Jupiter, IO Mission Type: Defense Faction: Corpus Enemy Level: 20-25 Enemy Count: 10 waves Rewards: 30,000 Credits, Gauss In Action Glyph

CORPUS EXTENDED WEEKEND #3

When: March 15 at 11 a.m. ET to March 25 at 11 a.m. ET Location: Europa, Morax Mission Type: Mobile Defense Faction: Corpus Enemy Level: 35-40 Rewards: 30,000 Credits, Rift Sigil, Rapier Tributaker Skin

CORPUS-THEMED DARVO DEALS

It wouldn't be a starry celebration without our old pal Darvo swooping in and offering you some of his iconic deals. Visit his shop on any Relay or the in-game Market for up to 35% off Corpus-themed treasures like the Arca Plasmor, Cycron, Falcor and plenty more! He still only accepts Platinum despite the occasion, though — so leave those gold pieces at home.

IN-GAME MARKET ADDITIONS

Several previously available Supporter Packs are also coming to the in-game Market permanently this month! Pick up the New War Tribute Pack to receive a sleek Ravurex Gunblade Skin, Narmer Color Pallette, Archon Nira Glyph and Archon Nira Sigil. There'll also be an Zariman Tribute Pack and Deimos Tribute Pack for anyone looking to up their Fashion Frame game.

SHAMROCK COLOR PALETTE

If you missed out on the Shamrock Color Palette from previous years, you're in luck — it'll once again be available via the in-game Market for 1 Credit from now until March 25 at 11 a.m. ET! Give your favorite Warframes that green sheen that shows you're a clover, not just a fighter.

POT OF PLATINUM GIVEAWAY

It wouldn't be St. Patty's Day without testing your luck. Enter the Pot of Platinum Giveaway between now and March 18 to see if you're one of three lucky Tenno that'll take home some extra Platinum!

[magnolia-among-the-stars]

I Never Told You (natasha trace imagine)

PAIRING: Natasha 'Phoenix' Trace x Female!Reader

REQUESTED FROM ANON: Purple 4. "I've never met anyone like you." With Phoenix please, greatly appreciated. 😊

The sunshine washed over the horizon, seeping onto the beach as waves softly lap at the gritty sands. Mud squishes beneath your toes while you walk along the surface of the bubbling water, taking in the peaceful and cool morning of the Island. Stopping for a moment, you rolled up my khaki linen pant legs and enjoyed the graze of a breeze against my bare ankles. 

A dizzy spell rolls over you, slamming through your skull and rattling your brain. It sends you sinking to the ground. Spits of sand splash out from underneath your bum while your fingers through absentmindedly as your mind wanders to last night’s haze events. There had been a welcome home party for your aviator friends, returning from a war ridden country. 

They were tired, clearly. Bob and Mickey were slouched at a high top table and Jake’s typically perfect blonde coifs were deflated. Instead of his usual attire at the Hard Deck of a blaring Hawaiian shirt and slouchy jeans, Bradley hadn’t even bothered to change from his khaki uniform. 

And then there was Nat. You had stood on the steel structure of the stool from your spot at the bar beside Penny, stretching as much as possible to see your favorite aviator. You searched each and every set of dark circles under your eyes to no avail.  When everyone seemingly had crowded into the bustling crowd, you deflated slightly. Where was she? Where was the rising Phoenix with her quick wit and sharp pool skills?

You stepped off the stool, ankles wobbling in my prettiest wedges as you stumble toward Bob to find out what’s going on. “Bob,” you call out, noting the way his spine straightens and his face turns to search yours. He seems relieved when you finally fit yourself into his side and give him a big hug. His hands are warm along your back, heat seeping through the material of the new dress you’d bought for the occasion.

“Hey there,” his already gentle voice is softer than it had been three months back. “I’ve missed you Y/N.”

“I missed you too,” you whisper, holding his waist tightly, afraid that the fragile look in Bob’s eyes would drip into his bones and shatter him entirely. “I missed all of you so much…” Bob must see the look in your eyes, must see the questions on your glossy lips.

“She’s okay,” he answers, immediately relaxing the kink in your shoulders as you catch your breath. The tightness, the pain in your chest disappears as you nod rapidly, tears welling up in your eyes. Alive is what Bob wants to say but okay feels more publicly acceptable, less harsh in the reality of what had occurred on their mission. 

“She’s outside getting some fresh air,” he nods to the double doors leading out to the parking lot. The sun had begun to set through the windows in the back of the bar, painting the pool table in oranges and pinks in reflection of the sky. “It was a rough couple of months.”

You nod again, taking in his words. You try incredibly hard not to think about the possibility of what could’ve happened out there across oceans and mountainscapes. It feels a bit hard to swallow as you detach from Bob, zipping around the crowd of aviators and naval officers to get to the front door. Pushing it open, you note Nat’s form easily in the sparkling colored lights strung up above the porch and against the railings.

Her hair is snuggled twisted into her classic bun, her face covered beneath her fingertips and her freshly manicured nails. Small whimpers find their way through the air as you move closer and try to approach her without frightening her too much. “Nat?” your voice is cautious and small as you continue to approach, hands writing together as you take in her stiff nature. 

She sniffles a bit and it breaks your heart as you move closer, placing a hand delicately onto her back as you smooth it flat against her. Rubbing up and down, you start to coo as her whimpers become louder as she covers her mouth. “It’s okay, you’re okay.” I jump slightly as she suddenly moves, wrapping her arms snuggly around your waist.

Nat nuzzles her nose and presses her lips into the column of your neck, wet slicking along the skin. Her tears stream beneath the sweetheart neckline of your vibrant green dress as she sobs. Her grasp is strong on your hip bones, grabbing at your soft flesh. You try your best to ground her, whispering sweet nothings into her perfectly sculpted bun and against the shell of her ear as your lips pepper kisses against the crown of her head.

“You are safe,” you whisper, rocking her back and forth.

“I was so scared.”

“You’re safe,” you repeat, humming as you squeeze her tighter. 

“You don’t understand,” her voice cracks against your chest, rising up to stare deeply into your eyes. Her vibrant green orbs are lined still with tears collecting on your lashes, brows knitted as she wipes her face harshly. “I’ve never met anyone like you.” Her words cause your heart to skip, eyes widening at her intense gaze.

“Nat,” your face starts to warm up, heating up as she clutches your hands before one soft palm comes up to cup your jaw. 

“I can’t give you many details about what happened while we were gone, but we came close to burning in. I lost control of my plane during one of our missions and the first thing that I saw was your face. Your laughter while we kick Bradshaw and Hangman’s ass during pool or your wide grin when we go to breakfast on Sundays,” she takes a shaky breath, leaning her forehead to touch yours.

“Nat, you’re making me blush,” you murmur. Her thumb smoothes over the silk of your cheek, dragging along your bottom lip.

“I couldn’t burn out without telling you how in love with you I am,” her words blossom in your chest, radiating out in all directions as light sprouts from inside. Your heart swells and your hands get shaky at her confession. Leaning in, you capture her soft lips in a heated kiss. Tugging her hips toward you with purpose, your mouths move against each other. 

You breathe her in, hands sliding along the seams of her uniform until they are just below the curve of her breasts. She pulls your face close to yours as her tongue dances along the pout of your bottom lip. Nat moans slightly when you pull away. “I love you so much,” you press another wet kiss to her mouth, fingers sliding around and down her spine. They dance at the small of her back before grazing the roundness of her ass. “Let me take you home,” you search her eyes for any concern, any displeasure. 

You find none. “Let me help you forget.”

Want to send in a request? Click here!

[xbruised-peachx]

Mäuschen Ch 4.

After a bit of a break (sorry, I shifted schedules at work not to mention all my other projects I have!) chapter 4 is here. No smut, just some nice relaxing fluff :3 (also help i dont have any new renders/clips for this that fit so uh... um...)

(sure) Summary: After waiting for him to return from his work, you two can finally relax and have moment to yourselves, hopefully setting your worries aside. Word Count: 8,586 Tags: Fluff, making out, a sprinkle of angst, face reveal, this was written b4 i made the discovery abt the t-shirt being his mask don’t worry i know i’m the one that made that tiktok you dont have to mention it 🔞+ STORY Ch. 1 Ch. 2 Ch. 3

AO3 link. Translations notes at the end of the chapter!

Tag list- @xncasi @m99n @uwu-i-purple-you @quiziwizi @kitty-satan1 @xxgirlscoutcookiexx @rainydayfanfic @confuseddipshit @konig-breedme @seraphimcollections @ashmichi-34 @carrieism @lilpothoscuttings​

As you read the fictional war-time set book that he had readily available on his bedside table, the hours passed easily it seemed. You got up on occasion just to stretch your legs from laying on his overly firm mattress, but couldn’t complain too much from how big it was, how nicely it enveloped you. Looking over to his alarm clock, it had finally hit 5:30 pm, and your stomach would have reminded you if you didn’t check. You were thoroughly starving, the toast from this morning only lasting you until about 2 until you started feeling hunger pangs. You suppose it’s one of the unforeseen consequences of this deal; anytime he was on a mission, you would only have breakfast and dinner, if that. You assume there may be a point where he’s woken up at 5 am and just has to go, leaving you for the whole day. But maybe it’s different since he’s just a contractor.

You wondered if he’d be back soon. You didn’t even recall what time he left, but it had to be just before noon. You hoped it’d be soon since it was getting harder and harder to focus on reading. You knew though that he and Horangi were still trying to figure out something about the tape. You didn’t want to rush that, not that you could even with you being holed up in his room. And you knew they certainly weren’t going to get it figured out in a day, especially while using code words in a supply room. But the sooner the better, and the sooner he got back the better too, as it felt like your stomach was about to eat itself.

About ten minutes passed as you struggled, re-reading the same sentence as you struggled to focus, you heard a click from the door, looking up and seeing the lock turn left. It slowly opened and he peered his head in, his eyes slowly showing his smile as he met eyes with you again. You gave him a cute wave, smiling back at him as he started to walk in. He shut the door behind him, but you noted that he didn’t lock it. He let out an exhausted sigh as he slowly walked to you.

“You look so cute on my bed... so little, meine Maus.” He walked up to the side of the bed, leaning over you and putting his hands on either side of you. You blushed, averting your gaze from him as you shut the book, setting it back on the table and just as quickly meeting his eyes again.

“It’s because it’s made for you, big guy.” You smiled cheesily as you pushed yourself up slightly to meet his loom over you. You heard his breath hitch and he quickly pulled up his mask, you both knowing to come close and close the gap, kissing softly as you wrapped your arms around the back of his neck. He pulled away, letting out another sigh, but this time sounding relieved.

“I’ve always wanted to come back to a beautiful girl waiting for me... heheh, this still doesn’t seem real.” His voice trailed off as he brought one his hands up and placed it gently on your waist. “...Wish it was in better circumstances but I guess I can’t complain too much.” He let out a small chuckle as you smiled sweetly back at him. He rubbed his thumb up and down on the side of your stomach humming slightly to himself, almost covering the rumbling of your stomach, but he could clearly feel the vibrations as his eyes went wide. You instantly blushed, feeling embarrassed and broke your gaze from him. “Oh, Scheiße! I’m sorry, Liebling, you must be so hungry. I should’ve asked as soon as I came in.”

You smiled slightly, glad he wasn’t mad at you for not telling him sooner, but also wishing he wouldn’t blame himself for it. You met his eyes again, seeing they had now averted from you sadly. You brought your hand up to softly hold the side of his head, his gaze quickly shifting back to you. “It’s okay. Why don’t we go ahead and get some dinner then? Then we can get back and we can relax.” You smiled softly to yourself as you looked to the side, your mind wandering. “...We can actually relax.”

When you looked back at him, you could tell he was smiling at the thought too. He nodded, nuzzling his head in your hand before standing upright, letting his hand run down your arm and helping you up off the bed. You stayed holding onto his hand, walking with him as he reached the door, stopping when he did and turning to you. “I should say, even though you probably know, we can’t be... oh, what’s the word for it? I know there’s one, where we can’t kiss or do anything romantic out there...”

“No PDA?” You answered, trying to complete his thought. Public displays of affection, you knew they were very frowned upon, especially while in uniform in the military. So that made sense.

His eyes lit up as he snapped the fingers of his other hand. “That’s it! Thank you. We can’t have any PDA out there, so... I mean if you need to get anything out of your system.” His lids lowered slightly as he bent down to reach your level. You chuckled and shook your head softly, looking down to the floor then meeting his eyes again. You quickly grabbed the end of his mask and pulled it up, clashing your lips against his. He quickly reciprocated, taking his arms and wrapping them around your waist, pulling you close as instantly the kiss got more deep and passionate. You moved your lips softly against his and he slightly opened his mouth, letting his tongue just barely to lick your bottom lip. You smiled as you felt it, letting your hands run up around his neck and grabbing the nape of his neck, letting your fingers intertwine with his hair. You could feel him pull a sly smirk in the kiss as he lowered his hand to your ass, acting as a support as he suddenly stood upright, bringing you with him. You yelped as your lips pulled away instinctively. You legs wrapped around his waist instinctively as well, as he started to laugh. “Sorry, Mäuschen... gotta get some stuff out of my system too before we go.”

He quickly brought his lips back to yours as the kiss continued right where it left off, just deep as he licked your bottom lip again, asking for permission to enter as he just barely skirted the line of pushing it in. You smiled and gave him what he wanted, opening your mouth and letting your tongue meet his. He hummed delightedly in the kiss as you both let each other softly and passionately intertwine. Slowly he pulled his tongue back, ending the kiss reluctantly, but not before giving one quick peck before fully pulling back, letting his mask fall. You slowly opened your eyes, seeing him look at you sympathetically as he slowly brought you back to the floor.

“Alright... let’s go get you some food.”

You chuckled as you held his hand while he opened the door. He didn’t fight that, you imagine you two could pass it off simply as him guiding you. He turned and locked the door behind him, then turned to his left to guide you down the hall. You were surprised you were able to keep pace with him considering his much longer legs. You were walking at a normal pace to you, and you wondered if he was doing this purposefully. You looked up to him, seeing him continue to stare straight forward as he turned another corner, his hand trembling against yours slightly. It seemed he felt you look at him though as he met your gaze. For a moment his eyes looked worried but as soon as they saw your loving gaze, he returned the expression.

As you continued walking though, staring into each other's eyes, you heard more muffled voices get louder as you both slowly approached some double doors. Above it was a simple little sign that stuck out to the hallway. “Cafeteria.” You heard a sigh from him as you glanced back to him, pulling his hand away slowly.

“I’m... I’m sorry, Liebling. I want to keep guiding you by holding your hand but... I don’t want to attract more attention when we walk in.” His voice sounded sorrowful but with a lot of nervous shakes and hesitation as he spoke. His anxiety... You could imagine from the amount of people, it was making it spike more than ever for him. He probably already gets lots of stares anytime he has to duck under a door frame to get into a room.

You nodded at him, showing your sympathy for him the best you could. “I understand... I’ll just stick close behind you, okay?”

You could tell he was smiling as you answered, nodding at your suggestion. He took another deep breath and very gently opened the door. The noise of the room escaped as he very quickly ducked his way in, you following closely behind. More harsh fluorescents stung your eyes as you slowly refocused, peering at the room. Some voices stopped talking and looked at the both of you that entered. You instantly flushed, feeling embarrassed, especially as you looked down at your pajamas. You quickened your pace to meet König at the beginning of the food line. With how fast he was moving now, you knew he was holding back in the hallway. He grabbed a tray for you and him, keeping his head down as he continued down the line. It reminded you a lot of being in school, all the food lined out for you to choose, but nothing too interesting honestly. On yours, you put a slice of turkey, some gravy, and some string beans. Normally, you would think potatoes would go great with this but after yesterday, you weren’t sure if you’d eat potatoes for a while. On his he had meatballs with some sort of brown sauce on them, potatoes, and a roll. The roll sounded good but it seemed he took the last one. He glanced over to you right as you were looking at his roll, wondering if he would split it with you.

“D-did you want this?” His voice came out choked as he spoke with a hushed tone. You looked up at him, seeing he was completely avoiding eye contact with you. You could feel it too though, what was making him feel even more anxious. The few stares that were still directed at you two. It made your anxiety shoot up too. You nodded softly, but thought for a moment he wouldn’t see it. Just as you were about to speak, he quickly took the roll and put it on your tray. You looked up at him and smiled, not wanting to attract any more attention, you just simply mouthed to him a thank you. You assumed he saw it as his gaze averted even more to the side as he continued down the line.

Grabbing two water bottles, he was easily able to hold both with one hand while holding his tray, as he picked up pace as you exited the line. You tried to keep up with him as he went for a table that was in the furthest corner, nobody at the tables surrounding it. You looked at him as you set your tray across from him, lifting his mask up to start eating quickly.

“We have to eat here? We can’t take it to your room?” You asked with a hushed tone, watching as he snapped to look at you, but quickly darted back to his food, looking down.

“Yeah... some people have brought their food to their room and forgot to take it out after so, it's banned. We all have to eat here.”

You nodded, understanding. “I guess that makes sense... still kind of dumb though.”

He remained silent in response. You were hoping talking a little would ease his nerves a little, but you could still feel his leg bounce, slightly shaking the table as you started to eat. You watched him curiously as he continued to eat, pulling his mask up and wolfing his food down quickly.

“You always keep that mask on, huh? Even when you're eating?”

He finally locked eyes with you for a moment. You couldn’t quite tell his expression, his brain seeming overwhelmed to the point he couldn’t even think of which one to express. “I... Y-yeah, I don’t like people looking at me. At least this hides me somewhat, even when I have to pull it up.”

You shrugged your shoulders as you took a bite of your roll he kindly gave you. “Now, I mean this in the nicest way possible... but I think people look at you more because you're wearing the mask. Having to pull it up to eat kind of draws more attention than eating like normal.”

He nodded, his eyes going to the side as he started to dip his spork in the remaining sauce from his entree. “You’re right... but they still aren’t looking at me. They’re looking at a mask that’s over me. That’s all they can associate with me. But I know I’m more than this,” he tugged at his mask as he brought the utensil up to his mouth, “so they’re just looking at my mask. Not me. If you get what I’m saying...” He glanced over to you, watching for your reaction as you continued to eat your roll, mulling over his words in your head a bit confused. “...No one here has seen my face, so they don’t even know me. The only me they know is König, the tall guy with the sniper hood on all the time. They are only looking at a part of me... Besides, I find it kind of comforting to wear now, I don’t even think of it most of the time.”

You nodded, kind of understanding what he was getting at. Sure, it wasn’t the healthiest coping mechanism but it at least helped him. You just wondered what he’d be like when he wasn’t deployed or got out of the military, what he would do then. You figured it’s something he would probably figure out by the time that happened, or at least, with how he worried about things, it’s probably something he’s thought of too.

He sat silently as he ate his potatoes, not looking at you much as you continued to eat as well. String beans weren’t your favorite but at least it was better nutrients than yesterday.  You noticed just how fast he ate though, easily outpacing you and making you realize probably why he got so big growing up. You looked over to your half finished roll, you had set it aside as you got a bit tired of the flavor, but saw him still just about done with dinner while you had barely reached the halfway point. You gently place the half of the roll on his tray, returning the favor when he gave you it. He looked down at it wide eyed and confused before catching your gaze again. 

“You don’t have to, darl-” He stopped mid sentence, doing a faux clearing of his throat. Clearly, he didn’t even want to have that public display of affection, but you suppose it wasn’t bad to be too cautious. Besides, he peppered you with enough pet names in private to last you a lifetime. “You should have it, you’re the one who hasn’t eaten all day.”

“I had toast this morning... Besides, I guess I just have a smaller stomach than you.”

He let out a little laugh, and with him lifting his mask up to eat, under the shadows you could barely catch a glimpse of his smile. It was cute, wide and a little asymmetrical, going to his left a little more, giving him an almost permanent smirk. “I... don’t think that’s how that works. Please,” he put the roll back on your tray, meeting your eyes again, “I appreciate it but I’m a big boy... I’ll be fine without a roll tonight.”

He leaned back to his seat, you hadn’t even noticed how close he had gotten to you, making your blush as you realized it. Quickly you glanced around the room, just to make sure no one saw. It seemed finally people diverted their attention to their own tables, in their own conversations and meals. When you looked back to König, you noticed he had done the same, glancing around the room to make sure people had stopped watching you two. 

You finished up your roll and string beans, just enjoying the presence of him in silence, knowing he didn’t really want to attract any more attention by keeping up a conversation. He had already finished his meal, so he was just watching you, his elbows on the table as he rested his face against his interlaced fingers. Though, he probably wasn’t actually watching you, as you noticed his eyes not really move much, and rather was probably just spaced out. When you finally noticed he was focused on you again, that’s when he spoke.

“What do you like for snacks? Something more sweet or something like chips?”

You paused as you thought about the random question. “I think it depends on my mood really... I can go either way.”

“Any particular thing you like? From both those categories.”

“Um...” you were a bit taken back by the random questions, but noticed his posture as he was about to get up. You glanced behind yourself, looking at the variety they had available here. “...I guess the Lay’s Wavy and those little chocolate cakes with the frosting in the middle.”

He nodded and stood up in silence. You just watched as he walked away again at a fast pace, going through the line as you took one of the final few bites of your turkey. Once he returned, he had a small package that he had already opened. You looked at the little snack cake in his hand that he had already eaten half of.

“...I thought you said you didn’t like American sweets,” you said light-heartedly, attempting to hide the goofy smile that was creeping on your face. “But, you're eating a twinkie?”

He shrugged his shoulders while grabbing his tray and yours, starting to walk to the trash, holding out the package in his other hand. You took his offer, grabbing the other little cake that came in the package. He had finished his in two bites, letting him throw away the wrapper as he set the trays on the already started stack on top of the garbage. He turned on his heel, patting your back as he started walking forward, encouraging you to walk alongside him. You did as you took another bite of your treat, taking one last look around the room. You didn’t notice anyone looking at you two as you left at first, but then caught a glimpse of a familiar face... well... mask and sunglasses, looking in your direction. You gave him a small wave goodbye as you two left through the doors.

You had finished your twinkie as you both reached his dorm door. Wiping the crumbs on your pants, you were reminded of how you told him you needed new clothes. Right as he pulled his keys out, you spoke up, “König, remember how I said I wanted a change of clothes?”

He looked back at you wide eyed. “Scheiße! I do... damn it...” He paused, bringing his hand to his mouth as he looked off to the side, lost in thought. “...Can we just... uh, check the lost and found? I’m sure something is there.”

You crossed your arms, giving him a bit of an annoyed look. “You don't want to talk to the girls here, do you?”

He let out an exasperated sigh, then met your eyes again, almost pleading but still looking as serious as he could. “Yeah, I really don’t want to knock on the doors and ask the girls here if they have extra clothes. It’s just... It really doesn’t sound right coming from me.” He gestured at himself, his entire tall and bulky figure.

“I can do most of the talking, I’m sure they’ll understand if I ask.”

“Can we please just... do this another day, Liebling?” His voice snapped at you calmly. He very clearly didn’t want to do this... having gone through a lot today. You felt bad pressing him but... you really needed new clothes. You looked to the side, then met his gaze again. You nodded, agreeing to go at least check the lost and found.

It was just past the end of the hallway, just a large cardboard box with a paper sign above it, labeled in a permanent marker crudely. There wasn’t much to choose from, but it’s not like you could be picky considering this was basically stealing clothes. He said he’d throw them in the wash while he was working tomorrow, then get them and bring them back once he finished, but it left you wondering what you’d do for tonight. You really were tired of this shirt, it felt dirty and you hated that feeling. You figured you’d just ask him once you got back to his room.

Opening his door, you followed after him, walking past him as he shut the door behind and locked it. Letting out a huge sigh of relief, he turned around, his eyes closed as he spoke, “Endlich kann ich entspannen... Scheiße...” He spoke the curse softly under his breath as he slowly opened his eyes. They remained half lidded, exhausted but relieved as he looked at you, letting out a little laugh and shaking his head. “What a day, ja?”

You giggled softly as you took a step toward him, keeping your eyes on him as he approached as well. He was quickly and easily able to pull you toward him in a huge hug, gently squeezing you as you were enveloped by his embrace. Your smile grew on your cheeks as you returned it, though you weren’t able to encase him as much, you still tried your best to squish his body as much as you could with your strength. You knew he was holding back while holding you, but you didn’t have to.

“I can’t even imagine the stress you’re going through right now...” His hands gently combed through your hair as you shifted from shoving your face directly into his lower chest to look up at him. “Sometimes... I think I really don’t have much to worry about, but still my brain can’t stop racing... But then I’ll stop and I’ll look at you and every worry about myself stops for a moment as I just start to worry about you, mein Mäuschen...”

Your brows furrowed as you caught his gaze shifting away from you, lost in thought. “Hey... I... We are going to get through this. I know it’s easier said than done but... don’t worry about me.” His gaze shifted back to you as you spoke, softening as he saw your expression. “As long as you're with me, to support me, I will be fine. I... I feel the same way; once I see you again, I feel my worries melt away. I just feel so at ease with you... We haven’t known each other for long but sometimes... You know, you just get that with someone, where it feels like you’ve known each other for years just from how easy it is to relax and talk with them.”

He nodded, and you were able to tell he had a soft smile creeping up his face. The way the light through the window hit him... It was just before twilight, the sun just barely starting to set but still making the room a nice amber tone. It made his already gorgeous eyes look even more beautiful, the warm tone contrasting beautifully to his cool toned eyes. “I feel the exact same, Liebling...”

His grip on you tightened as he started to lift you up. You adjusted your grip, going from wrapping your arms around his abdomen to letting them go up and around his neck as he pulled you closer. One of your hands pulled up his mask slowly as your legs wrapped around him for additional support, as the two of you brought your faces close to each other. For a moment, you stayed there, just an inch between each other as you shared bated breaths, before he gave in and closed the gap, his hand gripping your back as you pulled your body even closer to his. Your lips moved softly against his, your mouth opening to breathe, and he matched it, though you both held back, not letting your tongues slip out and instead just exchanging breaths.

Just as he started the kiss, he was the one who broke away first, slowly opening his eyes and looking at you, then shifting over to the bed. “...I hate to be a mood killer but the bed is looking really inviting now... and not even in the fun way but I just want to lay down.” He let out an awkward laugh, but let it fade out as you laughed with him. You unwrapped your legs from around him as you slowly lowered yourself, him helping as he leaned over to ease you to the ground.

“We should get into something more comfy then and just... lay down for the night. Put something on the TV and just, slowly doze off.”

He smiled as he looked at you. “That sounds wonderful...”

He had started to walk to his bed, but you gently ran your hand down his arm to his wrist. “Speaking of which though... is it possible I could just... sleep in one of your shirts for the night? I’m sorry, I know I keep going on about the clothes but just this shir-”

He cut you off by letting out a little laugh, taking a small step towards you. “Say less, my dear... My shirt might look like a dress on you but... I wouldn’t mind that at all.”

You smiled as he walked past you, turning to his dresser as you took a step back, starting to undress. You saw his gaze shift as he saw your shirt fly past him and into his hamper. You could imagine the little blush creeping up his face as he dug through his drawer. He held up a black shirt that had “Rammstein” written right on top, with the logo taking up a majority of the rest of it, all in a nice red to accent the dark tone. You definitely were going to be swimming in it. “This will work... I haven’t worn this since high school so... this is much too small for me.”

He let out a little laugh, cut short as he looked behind and saw your body again, his eyes going wide for a moment. You smiled, a blush creeping up your cheeks as you tried to remain confident. “Why’d you bring it then if it’s too small?”

He did a little clearing of his throat. He was on his knees to look in his dresser easier, but he did not switch to stand as he kept looking at you, instead slowly sliding forward. “Oh... I guess just memories. I like bringing a few pieces of home with me when I’m out of country like this.”

He looked at you, his eyes half lidded as he was right next to you. With him on his knees, he was finally your height, much easier to see you eye to eye. Gently, he grabbed your arms, lifting them up slightly to make it easier to slip your arms in. You helped him out, ducking your head under to get yourself in. As he pulled it down, he let his hands trail, outlining your body softly and delicately until he reached your lower hips. A shirt that was too small for him still went well below your pelvis, making it a very comfy nightshirt.

He wasted no time grabbing your hips and pulling you close, lifting his mask up and meeting your lips much easier at this height. You smiled and chuckled in the kiss, wrapping your arms around him as he hungrily devoured you. He was so cute when he was desperate and needy. When he broke the kiss he let out a sigh, looking deep into your eyes. “...I’m so glad you’re here, mein Mäuschen.”

You smiled, looking back at him just as lovingly. “I can say the same...” You let your hands gently drift down his shoulders and to his chest, drumming your fingers on his dark athletic jacket. “Now, I think you could switch into something more comfortable as well. I’m sure you don’t sleep with that mask on, do you?”

As you started laughing, he averted his gaze, the loving confidence in his eyes dropping as nerves took him over obviously. It made you cut your laugh short, knowing this was something that was more serious to him, spiking his anxiety.

“...Right... Y-yeah, you’re right, I don’t sleep with it on... I knew I was gonna have to take it off for you eventually... I just was putting it off in my mind I guess...”

He paused, still not looking at you and his grip on your hips faltering to just barely be resting on them. “...Are you worried I’ll not like you if I know how you look?”

He let out a big sigh, “That and nobody here has seen my face... or at least known they have... I know my head sticks out of the shower a little.” He let out a little chuckle, glancing at you a moment to gauge your reaction before returning to the floor. “I guess not showing my face kind of boosts what little confidence I have... but I can’t put it off...”

You brought one of your hands up to cup his cheek. He nuzzled into your touch, looking at you from the side as you spoke. “I promise... my opinion of you won’t change when I see your face... I’ll help you get more comfortable with it being shown, even if it’s just showing it to me. You’re helping me through this entire situation... I will return the favor, König.”

It was clear he was smiling as his gaze averted again, closing his eyes as he brought his hands to hold the one that was on his face, enjoying every second of the touch. He breathed deeply through his nose as he slowly opened his eyes, removing his hands to get himself up. “I may look a little odd too, as I still have this eye black on...” He walked over to his desk, opening a drawer and pulling out a towel, stained with other black smudges, and micellar water. He stopped for a moment as he set them on the desk and opened the drawer below, reaching into his cargo pants pockets, pulling out two bags of chips from the two on the side and three snack cakes from his regular front pocket. “...In case you get hungry while I’m gone.”

You started laughing at him pulling out so much food from his pockets, like a little Mary Poppins’ bag. You hadn’t even realized he snuck those away, though you remembered the poptart from yesterday, and it made sense how he was able to do it. As you wondered if he would be able to sneak you some more, he took a deep breath and pulled his mask from the front, letting it slide over the back of his neck as he slowly started to reveal himself. Short, messy bits of dirty blonde hair dripped over his neck. The way the light hit it, you could see very faint hints of the red, auburn tone hidden in there. He still kept his back to you, and you respected it by not peeking, though curiosity was about to kill you. He grabbed the towel, soaking it generously in the water and aggressively rubbed at his face. He put a little more water on it, folding it in half and rubbing it in a half-hearted attempt to clean it as he went in for another round, this time gently wiping using the other side of the towel.

He set the towel down and slowly, reluctantly, turned around. His eyes were closed the whole time, just barely peeking through a crack in his eye after a moment of being turned around. You saw the sliver of those beautiful blue eyes and took a step closer, wanting to see him even better. As he slowly opened his downturned eyes, you still saw the little bits of black makeup that stained his waterline, but somehow made his eyes pop more. His bushy eyebrow also remained stained slightly from the makeup as they turned up, concerned and worried as you kept looking at him in awe. His face was thinner, a slightly square jawline helping match his rather bulky frame. His nose was not quite thin, but also not wide, but from the side you could see the slight hook, the little bump of an aquiline nose. Possibly from it being broken as you saw it just barely tilt to his right. On his left, you had noticed it before when you first met him, and still felt it on occasion when kissing him; a scar going from the top left of his lip to just barely where his nostril started, but more so going onto his cheek. It wasn’t strong, but the pale skin contrasted to his surprisingly tan skin. It wasn’t like he was very tan, but for someone always covered head to toe and from Austria, he had a healthy glow to him.

His lips curled into worry as you remained silent, just looking at his face, taking in every inch of it. He opened his mouth to start to speak but you quickly silenced him, whatever bad thought he was about to voice about himself, as you brought your lips to his, kissing him deeply and passionately. He returned it just as hard, pulling your body close as he smiled softly, but seemed to fight the smile as you both continued. You pulled away, putting your hands on both sides of his face as he looked at you lovingly through half lidded eyes. Though he wasn’t the typical standard of beauty, not by a long shot, as you looked at him... those gorgeous blue eyes that always seemed to be both in bliss and hiding his broken past and thoughts.

“...Du bist sehr schön, mein König.” You were sure your German came out sounding a bit broken and stilted as you weren’t sure if you were saying the right thing. Clearly he didn’t care though as he quickly brought you to his lips again, holding you tightly against him as he hummed contently in the kiss. You smiled and laughed again as you kissed him back, loving hearing his little noises of approval as he kissed you lovingly.

“Und du bist perfekt,” he said while his lips were just barely pulled away from yours. You barely cracked your eyes open, seeing him as he looked at you with half lidded eyes, not with lust but with pure affection and tenderness. “...Mein perfektes Mäuschen.”

You pulled away slowly, taking another moment to look as he stayed smiling looking at you, but as your gaze continued his own gaze averted, looking at various places around the room and some spots on your own face and body. He did another little clearing of his throat, letting go of you as he stayed looking at the floor. “Well... now you’ve seen my face, we’ve gotten that out of the way, you should just... lay down. I’ll change myself and I’ll join you.”

You smiled as you saw him half heartedly smile at you, nodding in agreement as you turned, walking over to the bed. As you got yourself cozy under the comforters, you watched him, trying not to make it obvious as he clicked a button under the TV, turning it on. He kept his back to you as he pulled his shirt up and over. You admired the way his back muscles unintentionally flexed as he pulled it off, watching his large biceps as he tossed it into the ever growing pile of laundry. Even hearing the slight click of his belt made a spark shoot through you, though you knew you both were very exhausted and wouldn’t want to do anything tonight. Not after the day you’ve had. You watched him chuck his cargo pants over to the pile, letting out a little laugh as it slid slowly off the pile. He laughed as well, glancing back at you as he started walking to his dresser.

“Guess it’s a good thing I have to do laundry for you anyway, huh?”

You wanted to respond with something smart or cute, but just sat there, mouth slightly agape as you looked at his figure stunned. It was just as you felt through his clothes, muscular, but not fully chiseled. His pecs were huge and though his waist was smaller, it was only slightly as it led to defined abs. It complimented his large stature, making him both intimidating but even more enticing. He noticed you staring as the sunset hit him just right, the dark body hair he had turning auburn as he smiled again, the lopsided smile coming out fully as he chuckled. “Do you like what you see, Liebling?”

You giggled, feeling your face instantly turn hot as you were caught staring. “Hmm... can’t say I’m complaining. It really compliments your handsome face.”

He laughed again, shaking his head as he pulled out some grey sweatpants. “I would disagree but... My body is something I am more proud of... I worked hard because, well you can imagine hitting my height as a teen suddenly made more good fodder for people to bully me. I looked like a little baby deer.” He shook his head but kept smiling, memories coming back to him. “So, I wanted to even everything out. It helped the bullying stop, especially once I actually got into the military and could leave.”

“I think anyone bullying someone of your height has to be real stupid.” You chuckled, trying to reassure him.

“Oh, trust me... I was no pushover, I made sure they regretted it... Besides, that’s the only way they respected me. Seeing me fight back... they didn’t talk to me because they were scared. But that also meant they didn’t want to talk to me to mock me.” He shrugged his shoulders, brushing off his violent past as he pulled up his pants. Admittedly, hearing about his past, though it didn’t surprise you, still made you a little anxious. You worried about him possibly getting into something that was way over his head. Sometimes he seemed cocky, but sometimes with you he’d be reserved. You were sure on the field he would be way more confident.

“Is that why you joined? Does fighting make you feel more confident?” You tilted your head as you looked at him, walking over to the bed slowly as he thought it over in his head.

“Maybe... I don’t think of it that way but maybe somewhere in the back of my mind it does. I more so joined because it gave my fighting a purpose. It distracts me from everything else on my mind, I have to focus on what’s ahead of me or...” He paused, you both thinking the same grim thought. “...So, if it’s one of the few things I’m good at, why not hone in on it.”

He smiled softly as he sat on the edge of the bed. Though the bed was huge, his frame did take up quite a bit of it. You figured you two would just have to get close, not that you were complaining. He still had no shirt on, probably you had taken his last one since he needed to do laundry soon. Or maybe that was just a convenient excuse he was taking so he could have you even closer to him, to feel you on his own skin. He lifted the covers, scooting in to lay behind you, then pulled them back over. While his arm was over you, he propped himself up slightly, leaning over you to grab the remote. He left his arm draped over you as he started clicking through the channels.

“They don't give you any streaming services, huh?” You were trying to think of the last time you had to flip through channels to find something to watch.

“Heheh, no... one, I think someone could track us if they found whatever WiFi we were on and two, can you imagine how expensive it would be to get some ultimate account that could accommodate everyone here?”

You laughed slightly. “True but... I’m sure a company like this has the funds for it. But the WiFi thing you said is also a good point.”

He continued flipping through the channels, eventually looping back through until he stopped at some variety of cooking show with Gordon Ramsey. Based on the split kitchen, it was some Hell’s Kitchen re-run. He leaned back over you again, putting the remote down but slowed for a moment as he pulled back. He stayed there, slightly hovering and leaning over you. You gave him a small side glance, seeing him smiling as his cheeks were slightly red, turning slightly more as he noticed you caught him, but his smile did not fade.

“Du bist einfach so schön...” He brushed your hair behind your ear and continued to comfortably lay back, letting that arm settle right on your waist, his thumb gently rubbing your stomach through the shirt.

“I was going to ask...” You turned your head slightly to look at him the best you could while keeping your back to him. “I said schön earlier but that means, like, pretty or beautiful, right? Is there a word like handsome where like... it’s more masculine?”

He chuckled and you smiled, feeling his chest rumble against your back. “Well, I don’t mind you calling me schön. It’s pretty gender neutral but I guess the closest equivalent is hübsch. But they both mean the same thing.”

“I mean, pretty and handsome do in concept too but guys generally prefer not being called pretty.”

“I haven’t been called either so... I don’t care what you call me, I’m just happy you think that about me at all.”

Hearing that made you feel pity for him. You were sure people before could just look at his eyes, see how gorgeous they are, and thought it to themselves. Though they would never say it, intimidated by the rest of his form. “Speaking of calling you things and German, what are some pet names you’ve always wanted to be called? You’re always calling me Maus, Mäuschen, Liebling... I’m sure there’s ones you’ve heard and thought would be nice to hear.”

He hummed softly, thinking to himself. His fingers drummed softly on your side. You let your hand drop slowly, letting it rest on top of his hand and your fingers interlacing in between his. You felt him smile as he pressed his lips onto the back of your head, giving you a gentle peck and sighing softly. “Hmm... well you can call me Liebling too. That would be nice, especially coming from your lips... I think I’ve called you Schatz before. I don’t use it too much myself though. If you want an equal to Maus, Bär is one that’s common back home. It just means bear.”

“So, you’ve said chen makes a word mean small right? So if I called you Bärchen...”

He laughed heartily. It seemed like most times he held back his real, bigger laughs, but when he let them loose you loved it. It made you smile and laugh as well, hearing him filled with joy. “I mean, you’d be wrong describing me. But your German is correct. Du machst das gut, mein Liebling.” He brought his other hand that he was using to rest his head to yours, gently brushing your hair behind your ear as he let his fingers run through it. He let it rest above your head as he propped himself up, hovering above you and staring down at you. You could feel it and smiled, turning yourself onto your back to meet his gaze. He was looking at you dopily, pure awe filled as he took you in like it was his first time seeing you again. “Any other German you’d like to know, mein Mäuschen?”

You pulled your lips together as you thought, wondering if you should go with something that may be useful or something a bit more cheeky. “I is ich... want is...?”

“Will.” You loved the way he nearly bit his lip as it softly dragged against his top teeth saying the sound of the W.

“And to? Like ‘I want to...’?”

“It’s included with the will, no additional word is needed.”

You felt the way his hand wiggled his fingers against yours, still gently resting on your stomach and comforting you even more. “Kiss?”

His lids lowered as his smile increased. “Küssen.”

You smiled back as the blush on your cheeks brightened, thinking about the last word you had to learn. “You?”

He let out a little laugh as he leaned closer to you, leaving a few inches between your faces. “In this case, it’d be dich... but the word order will be different, so ich?”

He looked at you expectantly, the silence signaling he wanted you to repeat. “Ich.”

“Will... dich... küssen...” You repeated after him every word, smiling as it felt odd to be speaking another language. But him returning the joy made you feel better as you were actually saying it right. “Now put it together... say it faster...”

“Ich will dich küssen...” Your cheeks beamed as they grew hotter, especially as his eyes started to dart again, from meeting yours to watching your lips speak his native language.

“Und ich will dich auch küssen...” Before you could ask what auch meant, he brought his lips to yours, quickly closing the gap as your fingers interlaced and gripped his hand while kissing passionately. He let his other hand slip under your neck, pulling you closer to him. You wrapped your other arm around his neck in response to him pulling you up slightly, pulling yourself even closer. He gripped back with the hand that was holding yours, picking it up and gently putting it beside your head and holding it there, pinning you in place. As you started to smile, he slipped his tongue out, licking across your bottom lip, as if gently asking permission again. You let your mouth open slightly, letting your tongue meet his as you felt his grip tighten. His breath was hot on your cheek as he puffed out of his nose, letting his tongue explore deeper in your mouth. Slowly he pulled away, opening his eyes just as slow as his grip loosened, meeting your eyes again. “...Ich will dein Alles sein.”

You giggled as he immediately nuzzled into your neck, not even kissing, just attacking your neck with his face gently. Though he was clean shaven for the most part, you could still feel the little bits of facial hair tickle you. “What does that mean? You want...?”

“I want to be your everything,” he said breathily into your neck. “It’s so hard to describe how I feel about you, Liebling. I haven’t felt like this before in my life... Every part of me wants to protect you, care for you, make sure you're happy before anything else.” He leaned up again, looking into your eyes and just staring for a good moment. It was like he was completely awe stuck as he looked at you, mouth slightly agape. He took his hand out from under your neck and gently brushed through your hair. “...I want to do everything I can so I can wake up every morning and see this beautiful, smiling face looking at me with as much love as you are right now...”

You felt heat crawl up your face as you were called out for your own lovestruck look. You couldn’t help it as those crystalline eyes looked at you, shifting slightly as he took in the sight of you under him, the feeling of your hair between his fingers. It was true, he probably never felt this way before. He was so used to resorting to violence that feeling so soft and vulnerable around someone felt alien to him. But he was so willing to give himself to you, to enjoy this feeling he’s never had, you couldn’t help but admire and adore it... adore him even more. “Ich will dein auch Alles sein...”

He chuckled, making you blush even more knowing you messed up your German. He quickly gave you a kiss, reassuring you it was fine. “Close, meine Maus. Ich will auch dein Alles sein.”

You did a fake, over dramatic pout. “I don’t get German grammar... ‘I want also your everything be?’”

He laughed harder this time, getting off from being on top of you and laying back down behind you. “You’ll get it eventually, my darling. I know it’s hard but I’ll help you get through it. Now come on,” he took his muscular arm and draped it over you, pulling you in close to him again, “into my arms.”

You smiled widely and turned back on your side, scooting yourself into his loving embrace. He gave you a strong squeeze before releasing, letting out a relaxed breath as you settled in. “I always dreamed of having a beautiful girl in my arms while I dozed off... It’s even more relaxing when it’s real.”

You smiled, you could say the same, finding it hard not to just close your eyes and rest while wrapped in his arms, his body warm and comforting like a blanket in itself. You took both your arms and pulled them under and around his forearm, hugging it close to you. You gave in, shutting your eyes and taking in the whole feeling of him, hugging his arm like a teddy bear. He placed a gentle kiss on the back of your head before resting his chin on your head, keeping you very close to his body. You felt a shift behind you, the sounds of chefs screaming stopping. You cracked your eye open to see the TV off, darkness taking over the room. All you could feel was the little puffs of air from his nose as he breathed, his chest rising and falling, and the subtle beat of his heart. You nuzzled against him one final time, letting the relaxation take you as you fully fell asleep with him.

Translations! Endlich kann ich entspannen... Scheiße...- Finally, I can relax... fuck... ...Du bist sehr schön, mein König.- You are very beautiful, my König. Und du bist perfekt.- And you are perfect. ...Mein perfektes Mäuschen.- ...my perfect Mäuschen. Du bist einfach so schön...- You are just so pretty... Du machst das gut, mein Liebling.- You are doing well, my darling. Und ich will dich auch küssen...- And I want to kiss you too...

[frostycatblr-fandom-files]

Sorry, Wrong Comms! : Hunter x Medic!Reader [Chapter 3]

Warnings & Information: Intended audience is 13+ (18 if you squint). Slightly heavier material. Real-life and Star Wars swearing. We're pretending we understand how both real-life and (the regulations of) Star Wars medicine works. Lol what's the layout of the Havoc Marauder anyways? Fuck it, we vibe. ✌️❤️  Injuries as a result of an explosive device during a secret mission. Uh oh, no surgical gloves (for drama, please use gloves whenever possible in real emergencies)! Mentions of blood and blood loss. Lots of medical paraphernalia: needles/autoinjectors, stitches, bacta, etcetera. Near death. Vague description of nausea and non-descriptive mentions of vomit. Loth-cat is out of the bag thanks to Wrecker once our brave Medic!Reader saves the day. Chapter gets happier/light-hearted towards the end as an apology. As a reminder: we really like italics in this house + doing my best not to be overboard with the Mando’a.

Tryin' real hard to avoid certain fanon characterizations of the Batchers. This whole series is absolutely RIFE with my personal headcanons.

Word-count: 7,761

The enjoyable breakfast at the Batchers' was a week ago. Strange how so much and so little can happen all within a week.

Between her decision to get recertified for battlefield medicine at Tech and Echo's encouragement - it would allow her to move through areas of Imperial control with little impediment with her documentation dated before the inevitable regulation tightening that would trickle down to independent medical facilities and practices - and a mission that an "old friend from… before" of the Batch requested their unique skill sets for, the seven friends had not seen or contacted the other in any capacity since that day. 

Once in the morning when [____] had stepped away from the bottom of the short stack of stairs leading from their front door and wished everyone a good day. Twice in the afternoon to first announce she'd passed the earliest available crunch-test for recertification she'd signed up for around the dining table with Echo's help, then a second time to say she'd bought a private medical vessel after going over some specs with the recertification board regarding her own skill sets. She'd need a starship of some sort if she was going to reregister to be an independently-aligned battlefield medic.

One of Omega's newest drawings had been sent home with the medic at the youngster's insistence. A creature she called an Aiwha breaching the waves, and a doodle of Lula in the bottom left corner sitting in a flotation ring on the surface. It now sat taped to the door of the tiny cold unit in the snug kitchenette aboard the medical vessel. The first splashes of organic, cheerful color beyond the sterility of white and the ominosity of red that covered the interior. 

[____] had decided that she'd close her clinic for the day and take the new craft on its maiden flight; get a feel for the controls, get a sense of how to navigate… him? her? … through the endless starfield of the galaxy this morning. Now getting closer to lunch, she'd originally decided she'd have a quick bite to eat, until a harsh screech of her comms sent the spoonful of warm stew across the little kitchenette table in a violent cough. Maker, what a mess. 

"Captain Rex! Rex, come in! Where are you?! Hunter's been hurt, he-! Shit! We have to fall back!" That was Echo. He sounded so scared over the comms channel. What happened to make such a brave and courageous man sound like a scared child calling for his parents like a monster was about to get him? 

She hit the button to answer the comms before she had a solid plan to answer it. "Echo? What's going on? What happened?"

Someone swore before Echo replied, his voice high and tight. "[__-]! Sorry, wrong comms! Disregar-!"

Like kriff she could. It wasn't just her duty to the insignia of the shattered cross, but a desire to jump in hearing a friend needed help. "No-no; what happened, Echo! What happened to Hunter?" 

"He's been hurt, we have to fall back and get him to a medic on-!" 

"I'M a medic, Echo!" she reminded him sharply, poking her head around the corner of the onboard kitchen unit to look out the viewport of her little medical ship. "Get to my ship! I'm gonna send you my position; if I'm reading this correctly you're… actually not too far from me?" 

The screaming… Maker, the screaming. She could hear him just as the ships were properly attached to allow cross-boarding. Pure, primal agony. She had to hurry up the ladder with a heavy medbag. She didn't apologize when she shoulder-checked Wrecker with all her weight when she found her feet again as he yanked her up the last seven rungs by the back of her suit like a damn Loth-cat's kitten, he could take that kind of punishment without being phased. She had to get to Hunter. Rivers of sweat forged wiggling, jagged and forking lines through the grime and soot caking his half-tattooed face. His bandanna was missing. He'd been wrenched out of most of his ruined, ash-black plastoid armor and left in the bloodied tatters of his skin-tight black bodyglove beneath. Where the blood was coming from only the Maker could have known right now. That would be a headache and a half to scrub out of the thin mattress of the med cot, later. "What in the karking hells…" It looked bad. So very bad. Caught too close to a detonation? She'd seen everything from shredded muscle and bone when she had worked at a large-scale healing center ages ago to deep blaster-burn and blood in every color of the rainbow after a cantina fight in the spaceport as of just yesterday, but this… this was something that made her stomach twist so violently in her fear she was sweeping the room for a spare container just in case.

While not a wet behind the ears nurse, she felt that ancient-to-her overwhelming panic and dread to her very marrow. When someone screamed like this, it was just a matter of time before the far more frightening, chilling silence that came before the end. Before the cardiac crash. The flatline. A funeral. Hunter didn't have much time and she just looked like she was hesitating. She was analyzing as she forced down her feelings and stomach with a heavy swallow. What would he need? Sutures, stim packs, maybe all the bacta-gel and every last patch she had… and a damn miracle. 

She needed to send some people out first. Calling out above the clamoring, crying sergeant on the med cot below her, she started giving orders. "Crosshair, Wrecker, Tech, you stay here. Echo, take Omega out of the medbay. Get his bunk scrubbed clean as you can. I need as few people in the room as possible. Now." Echo obediently hustled Omega away with a firm grip around her upper arm just under the armpit, forcing himself to become deaf to the protests and tears. (If it came down to it, Echo was not going to be able to perform CPR very effectively; something he and the medic were painfully aware of after a nightmare of Echo's some time ago.) It was an incredible kindness to not make his sister watch Hunter's suffering. It'd haunt the girl to no end if she didn't- no! No, she wouldn't lose him! 

"Wrecker." The hulking Clone snapped to attention, and [____] hated how she was giving her friends orders like this, how she was treating these men like… like soldiers. That's what we are, burc'ya one of them had once said, but it doesn't take away how much she hated it. 

How much she had initially, strangely, hated it when they spoke to her in their own version of Mando'a and the scraps of other languages beyond Basic they picked up during the Clone Wars and their service with the GAR and little phrases from the native tongues of the Force-wielding Jedi. What she would give to hear it now… something other than the sounds of agony. The threat of tears in her voice. 

"I-I need you to hold your brother down while I give him the stim packs, Wrecker. Do not hurt him, h-he probably doesn't k-know-" Her words threatened to shatter unprofessionally before the stiff crack of skin on skin. Not now. She couldn't fucking cry right now. Hunter needed her! Taking a second, she tried again, voice much more level and clear with the encouraging sting of her own palm burning her cheek. "He doesn't know anything beyond his instincts and deepest memories to save himself right now, most likely. He might think we're trying to kill him. Especially me because I won't have my helmet on." She'd actually left her specialty-helmet back in her starcraft. She hadn't yet calibrated the thing and all its sensitive scanners that cost her a pretty credit. 

"What's that got to do with it?" Tech demanded, failing to notice she didn't even have the damn thing. He never liked not knowing what was going on. There was no time to explain as the equipment screens the medic was turning on and had applied the appropriate sensors to Hunter's body signaled he was close to crashing if she didn't act fast. "Just do what I say: put on your helmets. Wrecker, hold him down exactly where I say. Cross, hold these." Prepping the autoinjectors she'd need, she handed several to the marksman, grateful for his long fingers to keep them all secure as she freed her bandage forceps and the trauma shears from the medpack to cut away more of the ruined upper half of the bodyglove. The sour tang of metal and soot would take forever to scrub out of her nails, cursing as she realized she hadn't restocked her gloves. She'd have to get her hands dirty, and the thighs of her pants would have to serve as the blood-rag in this dire situation. Thank the stars she'd washed her hands prior to boarding the Havoc Marauder and curse the Maker for forgetting to restock such a crucial item like gloves. What a rookie mistake!

She pointed Tech into the farthest corner where he could see this delicate dance against death. "Tech: take notes and shut up. Blue: Emptying. Amber: Emptying. Cross, give me the red, then-" Hunter's chest buckled violently in a too-shallow rhythm under her palms, the lip-wrenching that bore his teeth with every harrowed, feral, bellowing call he was making through all this pain was frightening being that-much closer now. The heart-rate monitor screamed in warning: too high, the possible final hill before the plummet. "Red then the gold! That order is very important!" If she got the order wrong, it would kill him. She wouldn't tell Crosshair that. Not until later. Or ever. "Gold: Emptying! Good! Wrecker, hold his legs, Cross, his head. I’m checking for concussion if I can." If Hunter didn't clock her with a wild, frenzied swing. If they held him down entirely, he would only thrash all the more violently and with all the strength he didn't have, pain receptors long since shot and driven beyond overwhelmed. He'd been cursed with enhanced senses he could never take a break from, never mind whatever standard alterations Clones of this late Jango Fett have. "Tech: no concussion. Previously administered meds should be taking hold soon. Prepping a subcutaneous needle with a weaker sedative. Dosage: two hundred twelve, blue. Wrecker: strap his legs and hips down."

"Ti-tight?" the gentle, boyish giant timidly dared ask through the modulator, dark visor meeting the naked eyes of the medic just when Hunter's screams began to slow, but not the struggling. The monitors blipped rapidly for just a short moment, making Wrecker panic in the pause from the medic as she considered. "For now." 

"'Kay. Whu' then?" 

"Go comfort your sister." Wrecker was hitting his breaking point of being a useful, calm assistant to the freshly recertified field medic. He set the restraints with a tight-voiced "I'm sorry, vod." before he ducked out of the medbay, shucking the plastoid bell over his head with a quavering breath. (Omega might soon be comforting him as much as he was meant to be comforting her.) She'd now have to count on the callous but not uncaring marksman and the over-explaining navigator who was taking his silence seriously if reluctantly. "Cross: I need you to mind his arms for me. He's not going to like this." Hunter had now stopped bellowing, all these drugs dropping him in a delicate, subdued state. Nothing like two sedatives and the strongest painkiller she dared use in the cocktail of stim packs she administered, the monitors telling her in entirely-too-many numbers to the untrained eye that Hunter was stabilizing. Vitals are still elevated and too rapid, but falling at an appropriate speed. If they fell too fast…

Taking his position, Cross did as instructed, putting each hand firmly around Hunter's flexing, jerky wrists. "Yes ma'am." 

"I'm sorry, Hunter." [____] offered fruitlessly, finally speaking to him rather than around him all while gingerly blotting a damp rag around a weeping wound to start stitching his largest laceration first to accelerate the closure before the bacta-gel was applied. "Hang in there, okay? I'm sorry for-" she pierced the lip of ragged, bloody flesh without warning him, if Hunter could even tell what she was saying, "-this." she finished. He heaved a guttural, strangled call of pain, instinctively attempting to wrest his hands from Crosshair's grip and shove [____] away before she jumped back out of reach, twisting and turning his legs in vain under the restraints. "...Nfg! St- … guhm!" 

She steeled her resolve quickly and came back to the bedside, eyes flicking to the cardiac reading. High. "I know Hunter: this is not fun for anyone." [____] promised him, treating the stilted, choked gibberish as proper communication while pulling the threaded needle steadily. Maybe it'd help keep him calm. Just keep talking to him, add in directions to the others as needed. "Hunter, Crosshair is going to hold your arms really really still for a little while, okay? I'm going as fast and as carefully as I can to get you stitched up. Is the pain starting to feel less noticeable since the first stim shot?" That should have been recorded as the painkiller if Tech had peeked at the multiple stim pack and autoinjectors she'd simply dropped to the floor haphazardly once dispensed into unmarred patches of skin between abused flesh and muscle underneath the top half of the one-piece blacks she cut from Hunter's battered body to apply the thin gel-padded sensors. There was no response beyond ragged, harsh inhales and shallow exhales. "That's okay, sweetie," she promised as she fastened off the suture, hushing him tenderly as she painted a thick layer of viscous bacta-gel over the stitching with her first two fingers of her opposite hand, "if not, hopefully it will soon. Here, Cross can move his hands up to your left shoulder now and I can stitch this laceration up next. I'll be gentle, as I can be, I promise. Does this hurt?" She palpated the edge of his injury with the pad of her thumb, wondering if he could even make out such a sensation with everything else his nervous system had been assaulted with.

There was a stifled "en" sort of sound beneath the tight brow-bunching, the best could be done to muster up a "no" if one had to guess. "No?" Forced past pale, slightly bluish lips, Hunter tried with further effort. "N-uhh…" He was going to hurt himself if wasn't stopped quickly and gently. Oh Maker he'd really need some blood… dammit she should have gotten that set up to begin with, another kriffing rookie mistake! "Okay-okay; good - I think that's the stim shot working, then! That's what we want. Thank the Maker. Here, let's try something while I'm working on this in the meantime. Can you hold your breath for me?" A breathing exercise. Make the other readings on the monitor slow down, if she could. Better, but still too elevated for her liking. Hunter's chest spasmed with the effort, indicating that wasn't quite possible. "Easy, buddy, easy… Let's try a slow deep breath instead."

"Nu-hu- I-" It was a spasm in his stomach this time, strong enough she feared the stitches were about to tear torn flesh further, before she understood what was making his body react like this. Nausea. Hunter always had a uniquely sensitive stomach but was in no state or opportunity to soldier through the urgent nausea like any ordinary time. She tore at the emergency release latches to the restraint-leashes on his legs and hips, Cross guiding his brother and leader onto his side so Hunter could safely be sick off the side of the med cot without aspirating on the foul substance if he remained on his back.

Tech broke out of his corner and his silence where he'd been banished with his datapad to assist with the mess coating [____]'s new field-boots and the paneled floor of the Marauder's medbay. He sounded almost offended and childish over the mic and modulator of his unique, non-standard bucket. "Kriff! Gross!" 

"Better than the alternative, Tech." the doctor simply chided the pilot, "and nothing any pair of my boots haven't seen before. Just these girls' first time. Crosshair can you grab a hydropack or something? Once he's sure he's in the clear he'll want to rinse the bile out of his mouth." She saw the sniper's throat bob stiffly, once, three times, before speaking in a distant, strained voice to mask the muted retching.

"Sure." Crosshair was all too happy to avoid becoming patient number two if he lingered here much longer when the doctor glanced down at her boots and remarked that she likes the blue travel-ration bars best as well, to no one in particular. 

She stayed aboard the Marauder to monitor Hunter's vitals and had tenderly cleaned the soot and sweat from his face for good measure, musing to herself that Tech was probably messing around with her control panel of her (yet-unnamed) ship in the pretense of optimizing and calibrating your systems to better suit your occupation and skill set right about now while following after them in the hyperspace lane while she was busy with counting each inhale from the man across the medbay within a minute on the timer ticking away. Once the minute elapsed, she'd let Omega come in and see Hunter for herself. [____] noted how her head rung with the first hints of a building headache and the tugging ache in her throat; she'd had her ears uncovered the whole time Hunter had bellowed in horrid pain while she granted his brothers a barrier of comfort and emotional anonymity beneath their painted helms and dark visors, and had no mic to amplify the voice that instructed them how to assist her. But she felt that the unmodulated waves of comfort would mean so much more to him and prove helpful if he could hear a voice unaffected by a helmet crooning comfort to him. 

The minute elapsed. Fourteen breaths. She made a note of it in the log that Tech had been keeping for her and moved to let everyone know that Omega could be summoned now to finally go see her brother. Wrecker was the only one [____] could immediately find outside the medbay. "Hey Wreck, where's Omega? She'll want to know she can finally go see her vod - but he's asleep, I think." 

"Awh, she's either in the gunner's mount, or in Tech's seat in the cockpit now, I think? Crosshair went to take a long wash cycle in the 'fresher, and Echo's still getting Hunter's bunk reset. 'E's gonna be okay, righ'?" 

She looked over her shoulder back into the tiny little medbay on the shuttle, nodding. "He's been stabilized. He'll need to come to my clinic for a full work-up and blood transfusion just to make sure that he really will be fine with proper time and rest." She tore her gaze away, the sight of Hunter's handsome face so slack in his exhaustion making her heart clench. The brute of a Clone with a boyish sense of humor just gave a quiet bark of laughter, arms looping around his chest much tighter without the shells of his various pieces of armor encircling him, stripped down to his black bodyglove at least above-belt. "HAH! Good luck with tha' for the rest of us… but, he'd probably listen to you, kid. Hunter likes you quite a lot… Has a lot of respect for you."

"Oh," [____] mused in agreement, a touched smile breaking free easily, "yeah, he's told me."

Wrecker looked so dumbfounded, sitting forward and arms unlocking in a surprised stupor. "H-he has?" 

"Well yeah; Hunter's expressed his appreciation each and every time I've helped one of you guys, you know that, Wreck." 

He looked more dumbfounded if possible, that mismatched gaze of melt-worthy brown and stark silver-white widening with a realization that his friend didn't know what he was alluding to. "I-I meant two separate things, ad'ika. M'sorry, I forgot a "and", and it- You don't know he likes you?"

It was now [____] who was dumbfounded, the implications just beginning to sink in. "Likes me, wha-? Wrecker hold on; you mean he likes me in the sense that he might love me?"

"If he doesn't, it sure looks that way!" Wrecker boomed, immediately flinching over the volume of his own voice above a breathy, soft volume. "Oops… Oh I hope I didn't wake 'im. I-I-I thought you knew after that night Crosshair suggested that Hunter accidentally hailed you an' then invited you to come over to our place and took care of your injuries an'-" Wrecker stopped and sucked in a hard, short breath just as his voice became loud again, hearing Omega scrambling down to the tiny medbay. "Cross said he'd heard you were… well first he'd believed you'd had, um, y'know, because he heard you moanin' an' all but- i-it wasn't that! I know now that Crosshair was just making a dirty joke, an' I know it was just a massage, but I… I-I-I thought maybe Hunter had finally gotten his nerves and told you." Wrecker was bouncing between the immature nervousness of a child who was afraid to admit knowing what sex was and the grown-up, prideful tones of recounting a coming-of-age tale. Wrecker was not stupid. Wrecker was not naive. 

And Wrecker was so much more. Gentle-hearted but strong and dependable. Kind, tender and guarded when he could have been rough and uncareful of his strength with his enhanced Clone brothers or the 'Regs'. Wrecker could dislocate a Seppy's shoulder or rip apart a clanker with frightening ease and then use that same hand in the next breath to scoop a fallen, injured comrade from the rubble like he once often held his beloved Lula in his sleep. (He once boasted to Crosshair, according to Tech that "Clankers fear me, women want me!" for… some reason back in the days of the Clone Wars. He hadn't been sure what the friendly competition was on that particular mission beyond how many copper-tops they would lay waste to.) These days, he had been loaning Lula to his sister; while Lula was so important to Wrecker, he selflessly shared most of his scant possessions with his family. So it was no surprise to the medic to find Lula swaddled in Omega's arms when she approached brother and friend. "Hey, Omega…" [____] called to the young Kamino-born girl with a maternal tone, "come to see how your vod is doing? He's resting right now, likely asleep, but you're welcome to go see him now if you want." 

"I'm not sure if I…" Omega stalled, 'want to see him in that state' or 'can go in there' was likely what the little girl wanted to tell the medic, but she only crushed the Tooka doll tighter to her chest with a wave of silence falling over her. "He's going to be okay, Omega, I made sure of it." [____] offered a placation of Omega's worries, silencing a beep of her datapad without even removing it from her belt clip or looking at it. "I can't be too far from him anyways, just on the off-chance those drugs I give him don't play so nicely with his stomach again. Why don't you come back to the medbay with me and see for yourself if my stitches are nice and even while I'm taking his pulse?" She held a beckoning hand toward Omega, a silent offer to comfort her and take her to the medbay.

One could have practically seen Wrecker's heart swelling in his chest as he watched his sister step forward with a timid "...okay." and lace her fingers with the medic's, careful not to bite into flesh with her nails in the nervous strength of her hold. "It's okay to be scared, sweetie. I'm right here with you." [____] promised, leading her back. She'd already covered the equipment screens and dimmed more of the lights, just since the sergeant was so heavily sedated it was more of a medical twilight sleep that he had the potential to wake from at any given moment. His sister took up position by his bedside, studying his tattooed face and the bandages she could see poking out from under a light medbay blanket.

"Hunter's…" Omega whispered, noting how deliberate the medic was to move quietly through the medbay. "... sleeping? Can he hear me?" She probably wanted to sit and talk either to [____] while she watched Hunter, or tune out the medic and talk to her brother. Let him know, if he could hear her, that he was going to be okay. They'd be back home soon. They'd be taking him to [____]'s clinic and she would make sure everything was taken care of. And that there was no reason to be scared. Returning the sentiment once said to her. 

Maker and all the stars in the galaxy… these six Clones had a way of warming her heart. "Kind of sleeping. He's pretty sedated so he doesn't tear his stitching. It's okay if you want to talk to him, just mind your voice of course, sweetie." [____] promised Omega, laying a light hand on the girl's shoulder. 

The medic busied herself with cleaning up the data log or padding it out with information for the next half hour while glancing over the sibling pair every few minutes, making sure she kept a proper eye on her emergency patient and the sister when the young girl was quiet for a few minutes every now and then. "... I was scared I was going to lose you, Hunter…" was a soft whimper nearly-missed under the sound of footfall as Echo joined the three of them in the medbay, a modified datapad strapped to the trooper's scomplink. 

(Tech really loved tinkering around with their equipment.)

There was a ping and accompanying message icon on the medic's HUD. Clever man. 

Doing okay, kid?

>Ask me when the cross is off.

Right, bad question. Still on the job. 

Echo offered an apologetic smile over the top of his datapad to her, mouthing something that contained the word habits. 

So… Wrecker told me what happened before he was sent out. Just finished talking to Cross in the cockpit about it, too. Sounds like it was pretty messy.

>It was. But Hunter's going to be fine, Echo.

No sense mincing words when there was a heavy cloud of strong antiseptic aroma hanging in the air. 

>You guys will want to scrub out the cot in here within an inch of its life.

Careful, burc'ya. Tech may take those instructions literally. 

They chuckled softly over his joke together. She didn't doubt his brother's words. Outside of those she studied with in medical school, Tech was probably the most fastidious individual she could think of when it came to maintaining a sterile environment in the best of times. Something they weren't afforded this go-around, but in all honesty Hunter's chances of infection were fairly minimal due to the regular upkeep of sterility in the attack shuttle's small "sick-storage". In the medic's previous experience, that wasn't typically exercised by the usual sort who utilized these ships; but time and time again all six members of this "Bad Batch" proved they were a far cry from usual, she had to remind herself. 

>You'll probably have to air out the Marauder after he's gone through a ridiculous amount of antiseptic wipes and cleaners.

Oh, there's no "probably" about that… That's a guarantee. We'll be lucky if it's just the medbay.

The medic froze before she sent a return message, seeing a hitch in Hunter's throat as he stirred. His sister just took his hand softly, rubbing a circle into the knuckle of his thumb soothingly. "Shhh… That's just [____] and Echo "talking" in the background; all those beeps are their datapads," Omega chimed in softly as there was a second very brief stir from Hunter, "It's okay… you can keep sleeping. Won't be too much longer until we're home, I think…" 

Wrecker's told me something else, by the way. That he let a "particular secret" out in his words.

>Yeah. Wrecker did.

He told me what he told you. Sorry: didn't mean to make that look like I was prying for information. And, sorry if that was rather… surprising to hear.

>It's… certainly something to think about.

The medic laid down the datapad for just a moment and signaled Echo to wait just a moment, lifting the cloth she'd dropped over the bright screen of some equipment to check the vitals it was set to monitor. Pulse-OX, BP, heart rate. All looked about the same as the last time she checked. 

"Entering upper atmo..." Crosshair mused over the PA of the Marauder, breaking the silence of the ship in a voice bordering on boredom, "We'll be there shortly, suggest everyone get ready to leave for the clinic as soon as we land." No, not boredom. Carefully measured impatience as he was fond of saying. This was their vod who took care of everyone at his own expense (monetarily and otherwise), sacrifice, and personal comforts. It had been quite a long time since Hunter had been hurt so severely that he had everyone scared they'd lose him. Perhaps the last time had been during the Clone Wars. No one could really tell her for sure, but they were sure Tech would be able to give her a little too much detail from something in his records, Omega mentioned offhandedly as [____] updated her data log with the current readings from the diagnostic equipment.

"Don't be afraid to tell him to shut up again," Echo offered with a muted smile and choked laugh, now verbally referencing he's heard about the medic's further directives in his absence from Cross's recollection of events, "You know how he'll ramble your ear off at your clinic when he's trying to mask his fear of something. After what's just happened, he'll probably go blue in the face before he stops." 

"Still can't believe 'e actually listened," Wrecker called from outside the medbay, wrestling past Gonky with a wide crate of something in the crook of his arm, "Techie usually talks your ear off when he's nervous at your clinic." 

"I jus-" Echo started, ready to tell Wrecker he'd just told [_____] that same sentiment, but fell silent when a hand touched his shoulder softly, hushing him with a silent 'it's okay, Echo' when Hunter stirred a third time for just a moment. They were entering the atmosphere, mercifully he stayed asleep as the ship trembled and bounced through the transitional zone. "You call him Techie?" 

Wrecker balked, almost dropping the crate. "Awh kriff, don't tell him I called him tha'!" 

"I won't," the woman promised, carefully tucking back a loose lock of her hair, "I just thought it was sweet. You guys really care about one another. We should wake him just before we land since we'll need to find a way to hurry him to my clinic: would you like to do that, Omega?" 

His sister nodded earnestly at the proposed task, anxious to have some part in preparation to land in the shipyards. "I've got this." Omega promised. "Just say when."

They landed in the shipyards at the height of lunch-rush, which made both Tech and the medic nervous. Tech, always prepared, had a map of the city loaded up on the screen, the fastest route highlighted in yellow when he met the others at the ramp to the Marauder. "Oh dear… there's going to be a lot of foot traffic between here and the clini-" 

"I got this." Wrecker growled confidently, giving Omega a wicked grin as he held out his helmet to her. [____] was about to protest, worried that Wrecker carrying Hunter would injure him, and Hunter, half-awake in a rescue carry, shrunk back against Crosshair's chest. But as soon as his helmet was secured with Omega, Wrecker broke off from the Batch and the medic in a dead sprint at a speed that would not seem possible for someone his size to anyone unaware. People shrieked in fright as the demo-expert charged at breakneck speeds. "MOVE IT! MEDIC COMING THROUGH!" 

Maker have mercy on anyone who didn't get out of his way in time… they'd have to go to another clinic if he toppled anyone over. "Oh boy… better follow after him." Echo groaned, knowing that he'd be best to tail after Wrecker and make sure he was going the right way, or apologize to anyone along the way.

"Ah," Tech marveled, taking the rear as everyone else followed behind Wrecker, watching his brothers' blips on the datapad for just a moment. "That's… one way to do it. But why is he going the way that would take us past our housing?" 

"There's a theoretical shortcut Wreck and I have wondered about," Cross muttered, doing a visual sweep for something before walking just slightly ahead of the stoop of their housing, "hmm. Big guy actually did it." He sounded… rather proud of Wrecker's destructive capabilities. A fence across the mouth to a narrow alleyway had been run down, and from Tech's map, it cut across the horseshoe-structured street from their housing to her clinic by a significant amount. The fence's twin at the far end had been trampled, too. "Come on. After you, doc. Tech, why don't you drop off some of our gear at home and meet us there?" 

"Certainly. Omega, come with me." Tech gingerly unclipped one end of the strap holding the Firepuncher against Crosshair's back and carried it out in front of him, afraid to touch it because he was afraid to drop it. That rifle was Cross's pride and joy, his baby, even. But the less weapons they carried into the clinic the better, understanding that the way Wrecker could still be bellowing to alert people to get out of their way, they'd be drawing a lot more additional attention if they went in with a scared medic armed to the teeth. Negative attention. 

Hopefully his brothers wouldn't have broken down the clinic's doors and remembered to use their emergency key card once he got there, Crosshair thought to himself, stepping deftly after the doctor as she hurried up the space between high-rises. Hunter shivered in his arms, shrinking back against the chill in the shadows and into the far more inviting warmth of a brother. "Cr-Crosshair, w-wait…"

"K'uur…" he wrapped the med blanket back over the bare shoulder it slipped free of, "I'll tell them to get you some clean civvies once we've met up with Wreck. Don't worry." Crosshair had just enough time to realize that wasn't only the problem he was worrying about. That tell-tale jerking in the abdomen. Dammit not now. 

"Doc!! Need an emesis bag!"

Tech and Omega met the rest of the Batch at [____]'s clinic, carrying a change of clothing for everyone in a large supply crate, most of it Hunter's in the way of various tops. They weren't sure if they would need to supply something loose or skintight for the task of redressing Hunter. Wrecker was laid on the floor of the waiting room, a too-small cold pack plastered over his head. Echo was massaging each of his cybernetic legs habitually, looking in pain whether it due to phantom limb pains or because he had tripped in his haste tailing after their strongman. Crosshair… he smelled sour, acidic, and looked at them over his shoulder from the farthest corner with a disgusted snarl, daring them to make a remark about it. Tech could guess why; another gastrointestinal mishap. He swiftly shoved Cross's clean mock-civvies into one of the many clear drybags and zipped it closed before it was tossed to their brother who was looking slightly green around the gills himself, as the saying went. "Here." 

The drybag was snatched out of the air in a blink, and the marksman quickly stalked off down a short hallway to the men's for a second shower cycle in the appropriate 'fresher. He froze when [____] poked her head out into the hallway and called him back, saying Hunter wanted to say something but he'd need to step closer as his brother had kind of lost his voice after the last spell of nausea. "S-sorry, Cross…" Hunter offered from one of the private examination rooms nearby, voice soft and hoarse, as Crosshair had doubled back. 

"Don't apologize to me," The initially cold hum of Cross's voice made the doctor flinch, just out of reflex, but had no initial effect on Hunter (at least negatively), "you can't help the side effects… It was merely bad timing." The additional teasing sentiment was enough to finally invite placation, and Crosshair helped Hunter slowly lay back into the mattress of the inclined hospital bed. "Don't be hard on yourself, sarge. Now, behave yourself for the doctor, hm? I'll be back soon to help get you dressed into something once she's gotten all the scans she needs." 

Hunter's eyes flitted over to [____] at the utterance of the word doctor but were immediately returned to Crosshair before it could have been noticed by the distracted medic. She was too busy taking a reading from some of her equipment to have seen the break in eye contact or the way a wave of red swelled notably across the un-inked half of the melanin-rich skin of Hunter's face. "O-okay…" By Kamino's rain, Hunter looked so tired. He couldn't, didn't want to, remember the last time his leader, his brother, had looked so spent quite like this.

"Okay," Cross echoed, softer, tender, "be back soon." he promised once again.

Omega was quick to take Cross's position when he left the room, waiting patiently until Hunter gave her the go-ahead to join him up on the bed, perching herself on the edge and taking one of his hands free of a pulse monitor. 

"Omega-" Tech started sharply, disapproving. 

The ARC tapped the back of the goggled Clone's head sharply, just below where their inhibitor chips once laid, and Tech whined in complaint indignantly. Echo was not going to let Tech spoil the moment. "K'uur, vod." 

The finger that meant he was going to interject shot up, climbing to the ceiling sharply. "But she-"

Wrong move. 

"K'uur, vod! It's. Fine." 

"Th-the equipment? The… tubing for the blood infusion…?" Tech offered feebly, eyes following the thin medical wires that were affixed to and in Hunter. His voice was impossibly timid and small, feeling himself shrink in his posture under the pale, piercing eyes that made one thing clear. Echo was this close to pulling rank or reminding him that in Omega's affectionate use of Mando'a familial terms he was an Ori'vod like do I call him Ori'vod or Ba'vodu Rex? if Tech was not smart and shut up right now. He turned his head and stared pointedly at the wall painted in a cool gray-green with a chalk-base mix (Soothing Sage, he recalled the color being named), trying to mask the unpleasant wave of nervousness he felt when Echo directed his scrutiny and anger at him like this. 

The medic planted a soft hand on the shoulder of each brother, breaking the spell of tension from years of practice. "Omega knows to be careful." 

"Right, of course… I just…" Nails bit a little deeper into the shoulder of the change of clothes Tech had hastily shimmed into, breaking his explanation. 

Just two words to disarm him. "I know." was all that was simply spoken for the time being. She most certainly did. His analytical nature. The black and white thinking. A filter that was both too tight and too loose with his squad and the scant few he dared label a friend. His bad habits… and she had more patience than all 2,000 seats of the Galactic Senate for him all the same. "Can I get you anything, boys? Something to drink?" 

He shrugged stiffly. Echo's shoulder to the residual limb bearing the scomp link bounced up and back in languid fashion, the flexing of the elbow joint so fluid it looked organic. "Do you have any of those bottled teas?" 

"I have one left, as a matter of fact-" [____] started, moving toward the doorway with a nod when Omega asked if she could have one of the cartons of sweet jogan juice.

"Oh."

Just when he was about to mention that water, no ice, would be plenty fine, the medic continued, halting in the doorway. "And since I know it's one you like, it's been sitting in the itty-bitty cold unit in my back office with your name on it."

"O-oh?" 

Indeed it did. In her tidiest handwriting, she had written ECHO in the usually stiff letters of Aurebesh over the glued label on the bottle of tea, the seal freshly broken for him already. There was a unique personality, a feeling to each of the letters - esk, cresh, herf, osk - that tugged a touched smile free of the cybernetically enhanced soldier's surprise while Omega had some help opening the thick, wax coated paper carton of juice. "Thanks, kid… That was incredibly kind of you to save it for me." Those four letters had been written with thought of him, saving a mutually-enjoyed imported beverage for him. A selfless, conscious choice. 

Sands of Tatooine, no wonder she has Hunter's heart. 

"Heh, you're very welcome, Echo," was sweetly spoken, no indication she was at all distracted by all the individual health-puzzles around her. "Now, I should go make a trade with Wrecker before we check how the blood transfusion is going." She grabbed a second, larger snap-activated cold pack for Wrecker and stepped out into the waiting room to swap it for the comically undersized unit she'd first given him. "Doing okay out here, big guy?"

From how close the voices of the medic and the strongman were now, it was clear Wrecker had gotten on his feet and was following her back to the private examination room. "Heh, feeling better now. Don't worry about me… I'll be fine, ad'ika; wha' about Hunter? He okay? What's with all the tubes? Thought he didn't need as many anymore…" With care and caution to keep his voice low, Wrecker squeezed himself into the doorway and craned his neck inquisitively. 

"Two of those tubes are for blood and plasma transfusions; erm, the ones in his arm anyways. The others are all the same as the ones I used on your ship." Wrecker sighed heavily at the word transfusion, thinking for a second he should brace for bad news. A gentle hand found one of his nervously crossed arms and gave it a tender squeeze. He recognized the squeeze. The medic's familiar, comforting it's okay, don't worry squeeze. "I'm just being precautionary, he's going to be okay Wrecker. He is okay. He might be really damn tired once the transfusion is done; so it's really important that he gets some rest once he's home. No. Stims." 

Hunter just chuckled wearily on the exam room bed, giving [____] a soft, promising smile. "Don't worry. Wasn't planning on it to begin with…" Everything hurt too much, he was hardly in any shape to do anything when he knew he'd cheated death. The stitches itched and burned underneath the cold bacta-gel and the barrier of gauze was minimal comfort. The weight of his thick, textured hair was uncomfortable on his brow with the absence of his bandanna holding it back and up. He was thankful, touched, she'd dimmed the overhead lights directly above him and the brightness was set to LOWEST: AMBER on each medical monitor. "...plus there's an acronym Echo's told us about…" he added softly. 

Dee-something-something. Hunter knew the first word was don't but couldn't recall the rest. Crosshair returned from the men's fresher, the acrid odor of bile gone now. 

"Oh yeah?" their friend pressed, a single brow quirked in interest. "What's the acronym?" The galaxy and all her stars, he hoped the monitors wouldn't betray the irregular beat of his heart when she soothingly swept the hair back from his brow and smiled at him while applying a damp rag when he offhandedly mentioned his face feeling warm. The gesture was innocent, just a habit she's picked up with her profession, he reminded himself. She probably did this for every species in the galaxy capable of growing hair. The "intimacy" - the specific variety he was thinking of - of the act was just his imagining… 

"That'd be 'D3M':" Echo supplied before Hunter could give him the brother, help me out here expression. "Don't. Make. Medics. Mad. Learned that pretty quickly as a fresh ARC Trooper. You listen to the medics and do as they tell you; otherwise they can and will go to your commanding officers and share exactly what kind of secret shit you've been up to to get yourself in the medbay this time." It made Omega giggle brightly against Hunter's side and [____] laugh half knowingly and half in surprise. Cross chuckled softly in the corner of the exam room when Omega met his eye, still giggling. 

 "You mean to tell me you weren't quite so straight-laced well before you joined the rowdy rule-breakers of CF99, Echo?" The smile was entirely playful, or at least meant to be. She'd heard the stories of Domino Squad. (She'd heard a select few stories of a Clone with a jokingly self-proclaimed easiest designation to remember ever! of CT 27-5555, the sole-surviving brother named Fives, through stifled tears and hiccups on a few occasions.) She'd been given enough bits and pieces to know what jokes were safe to make. The ARC just gave [____] an impish grin that the other brothers and sister quickly mirrored. 

Rowdy rule-breakers. 

"Heh! Maybe... Maybe not..." Echo chuckled warmly, lacing his arms across a chest puffed in pride. "I'll let you come to your own conclusions about that, kid." 

Every last one of 'em in their own regards. 

Whatever that secret mission of theirs was with this “Captain Rex” that resulted in Hunter’s injuries, one could only hope they’d managed to hurt the Empire far worse than that.

[MASTERLIST] [TBB MASTERLIST] [PREVIOUS] [NEXT]

[forrestfanfics]

So This is Love || Introduction and Masterlist

Peter Parker x Stark!Reader (Sheltered)

Marvel Reader insert

Book 1 / 3 of my "NEOMA" series

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

So this is what makes life devine

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

"So This is Love" Playlist

If you want to know more, read the "Important Notes" chapter of the book.

Available on Wattpad!

Movies featured in book 1:

- Avengers: Age of Ultron

- Captain America: Civil War

- Spider-Man: Homecoming

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Masterlist/Table of Contents (to be updated)

Important Notes (please make sure to read before starting chapter 1 :3)

Outfits and costume design (Coming Soon)

Avengers: Age of Ultron

1: Prematurely Powerless

2: Uncle Steve knows best

3: Mew Mew

4: Rueful Reprimanding

5: Idiotic Tendencies

6: Sneaky Stowaway

7: Neoma's First Friend

8: Conflict and Compromise

9: Captain Crunch

10: Dear Sister

11: Boy Maximoff

12: Neoma's Debut

Captain America: Civil War

13: Self-Cooking Hotdogs

2: Divided Decisions

3: Buckwheat Barnes

4: Unanticipated Arrival

- (Y/N meets Peter)

5: Fluttery Feeling

6: Avengers Disassemble

7: Family Feud

8: Neoma's New Mission

Spider-Man: Homecoming

1: Hassles of a Home Video

2: Friendly Neighbourhood Peter Parker

3:

4:

5:

6:

7:

[builder051]

Whumptober 2023 day (something)— I have 3 prompts planned to be in this story, but it’s going to be a long multi-chapter ordeal.

*Warning* This chapter (well, probably this whole fic) is some heavy stuff. Poor mental health, depression, passing mention of suicide, death (canonical), grief, descriptions of war (Operation Iraqi Freedom), mentions of drug use… that’s all I can think of.

This is powers/No powers.

The dreams in which I’m dying

I find it kind of funny

I find it kind of sad

The dreams in which I’m dying

Are the best I’ve ever had

I find it hard to tell you

I find it hard to take

When people run in circles

It’s a very very

Mad world

—Tears for Fears

———

There’s a water main break in Sam’s building. His apartment has escaped the damage, but the water has been turned off for the entire complex. He’s fine without access to a shower or dishwasher, but the toilet and the tap pose problems.

Well, some problems. Sam could cope with a hand-dug latrine and bottled water for his toothbrush. The Air Force deems sanitation a necessity. Clean clothes and regular bathing are only priorities in the Civilian world. The thing is, Sam’s having enough trouble with his own problems. He hasn’t been sleeping well lately. If it’s not insomnia, it’s unpleasant dreams. Neither provide the opportunity to rest and recharge. Stress is steadily building, and the monuments run is losing its meditative properties. Either that or he’s becoming treatment resistant.

Autumn in general doesn’t agree with Sam. He begins sniffling when the leaves fall and clump in wet piles to grow fungus. He doesn’t take anything for it, not even what’s available over the counter. He likes to have as little on board as possible. It’s a habit from his flying days; being mission-ready required his body to be free of substances. hasn’t shaken the habit from his flying days. The Air Force’s definition of ‘mission ready’ calls for a body to be free of substances. No beer. No Benadryl. Certainly no Prozac.

It’s calendar that gets to Sam the most, though. He’s antsy when it’s time to turns the page to the next month. The weeks and days have slipped through the autumnal equinox and the start of a new fiscal year. He tenses even more as the days pass steadily toward Halloween. Sam would throw out his calendar if he thought he could function without it, but it stays stuck to the kitchen wall. He’d forget everyone’s birthdays and anniversaries.

Sam doesn’t actually know if that’s true. It’s more of a convenient excuse. The series of dates immortalized in his mind are far from celebratory. They shouldn’t matter. It’s certainly been long enough.

The lines of squares continue to spite him, though, as he marks through through the days passed. It’s the middle of October now, and Sam is caught in the middle of an agonizing countdown.

———

Twelve.

The day Riley’s parachute didn’t open. Sam watched him flip himself over as he struggled with the cord to his backup. What was supposed to be a lifeline wound up as a death sentence. Sam watched him plummet in slow motion, foolishly believing that he’d catch Riley by the ankles if he swam through the air fast enough. But gravity and physics were against him. Against them. Sam was only halfway between the helicopter and the sand when Riley hit the ground head-first.

———

Thirteen.

The day the enemy line backed up far enough for a crew to gather what was left of the corpse. Sam wasn’t picked for the mission. He’d wandered to a table of donated books and DVDs. One corner was overtaken with teetering stack of bibles. Sam meant to glance and move on, but he found himself rooted to the spot. If he’d ever believed in god, he certainly didn’t anymore.

———

Seventeen.

The day Riley’s remains left Kandahar for Regan National. Sam had seen the open cargo hold of the sleek passenger jet, but someone in an orange safety vest jogged around the plane and slammed it shut. Too late. All he was left with was Riley’s terrified expression. That, then a view of the bottoms of his boots. However impersonal, Sam would’ve preferred to see his friend off in a long rectangular box.

———

Nineteen, or so Sam assumes. Maybe twenty. Or twenty-one.

Sam knows the time it takes to get someone to back to their hometown and into a flag-draped casket is highly variable. He’d still found the feeling of anxiety overwhelming his grief. He felt excluded, out of the loop. Then it occurred to him that he have the right to be in it. In truth, he has no ties to Riley. But that didn’t keep Sam from holing onto strings of their bond, struggling to knit them back together.

———

Twenty-four.

The day of the funeral. Sam didn’t attend. He didn’t know it had happened. He’d entertained the thought of asking for leave, but there was no way he’d be approved. He’d get two days, maybe. At most. Too little time to make it stateside, let alone attend an event for which he didn’t know the date or time. Sam’s anguish made him want to try anyway. But in the end, he let logic win out.

———

Thirty.

A letter from Riley’s grandmother showed up for Sam at the makeshift post office. The message seemed canned, though Sam didn’t doubt its sincerity. Riley had been laid to rest. Sam was a good buddy who should’ve been at the service. He was always welcome to visit. Riley was in a better place now. Arlington. Not heaven. But that was Sam’s interpretation. He should’ve folded the pages back into the envelope and placed it in his bag of personal belongings. A better man would’ve. Sam’s angry disappointment backtracked through the previous six days. The image of a flag-draped coffin disappeared in his mind to be replaced with that of an elderly woman who had just outlived her adult grandson.

———

Thirty-one.

The day Sam dropped the torn pieces of stationery into the trash outside the mess hall. He didn’t watch the shreds flutter into the bin; he’d done an about face and headed out for the day’s mission. He hated every second he rode in the rickety rear-facing seat. Sam tried to hold it together, but he threw up during the HH-60’s descent back into camp. He hadn’t done that since before PJ school.

Laying low and slinking toward his bunk had been impossible; the rest of Sam’s unit was outside enjoying cigarettes and melted chocolate bars. It took him a moment to remember the American fascination with Halloween. A boom box thumped in the background with more crackle than bass, and Sam felt sick again. It was as if he was a ghost in the middle of the crowd. Someone passed a hand-rolled cigarette his way, and the sensation of invisibility was broken. He accepted the smoke, hoping it would get the taste of bile out of his mouth. Sam swallowed a gag when he realized he’d just dragged on cannabis. As he got in position to sleep, Sam was sure he would spontaneously combust if he ever smelled pot again. And Werwolves of London should be abolished from the earth.

———

This month is passing in the same way, no different from before. Sam tries reminding himself that he’s made it through the fall and winter months for six years running. Six Octobers. Two during deployments. One at his sister’s house. Sam hadn’t been reaching out for care. He’d just needed a place to sleep before he could sign his lease on the first of November.

Spending time with relatives or squadron buddies doesn’t lift his spirits. He’s far too troubled to open up. In the presence of others, Sam feels like he’s wearing a mask to hide his dour expression. The mask isn’t held in place with straps around his ears; it’s attached with nails that dig deep into his skull. Just thinking brings on throbbing pain. And there’s no dignified way to take it off.

Sam has yet to find proper support, if that’s what he needs to feel better. He imagines an outlet where he can emote without obligation to explain himself. Something with a balance of familiarity and anonymity. Support group feels too formulaic. Sam’s loss seems to close, too personal to be dissected as part of lesson in trust falling. That’s why he prefers to be the leader. He can cue and comfort much more easily than take the plunge to share.

Per his usual, Sam’s been ignoring what’s going on inside him. His issues haven’t yet caused the choking and vertigo of a real panic attack. Those tend to be as embarrassing as they are painful; Sam feels weak and guilty knowing it all stems from heartache. He knows he’s barely hanging on, though. Sam would gladly accept orders to repel to the ground in the whipping wind of the bird’s propellers and run into the middle of a firefight. That would be easier. A welcome distraction. Instead he’s suck wallowing in his marshmallow bed and existential thoughts, lying to himself and denying the fact that he’s past dark thoughts and well into depression.

Sam knows it’s not a fault, but truly a disease. He hates the idea of his body being slowly destroyed by ravaging sickness. And he has the terrible feeling that whatever he has may be contagious. Nobody ought to be around him right now anyway. Sam’s touchiness and vulnerability are turning him into a different person, someone irritable and rude and cold. The stupid broken pipe prevents him from melting his frost in a hot shower or a cup of coffee.

Perhaps the current situation in his apartment is a sign. Even in his current state, Sam wants to be more than than a lump in his bed. A psychopathic robot in the office. His suffering isn’t bringing Riley back. He’s known that from the beginning, but he’s aware that his actions are completely contradictory. There are lifelines. Sam knows the suicide prevention hotline number by heart. He scribbles it on the back of business cards and hands them out to new faces at the VA. But Sam’s nowhere near that far gone, and chatting with nameless, faceless strangers isn’t his style.

He has people he knows. He even has friends. His motivation is the size of a mustard seed, but Sam feels the push to try again at living his own life. The first step will be getting out of his place with no plumbing.

———

[theterribletenno]

Dhakhan

Had an idea for the Umbriel Reef’s Sentient raid boss, Dhakhan.  It’s an underwater Sentient with a serpent-like body and multiple limbs tipped with different Sentient weapons, resembling a nightmarish naga.  This boss is fought three separate times with new or enhanced abilities, mechanics, and drop/reward tables.

During the first encounter with the massive serpent Dhakhan he announces himself boastfully, and openly states that his objective is to find the remains of his uncle, Hunhow.  His voice-lines include degrading Erra and Natah, saying such things as

“My elder cousin, Erra, nothing more than a joke.  A farmer’s boy, unfit for war yet somehow just clever enough to command.  My younger cousin, Natah, a living deception.  Born to cuckold the man and suckle the babe.  Both of them failures and embarrassments.  I will succeed where both of my cousins failed, I will bring the Origin system to its knees, deliver Sol to its rightful owners and take my place as head of the family.”

While also occasionally calling out to Hunhow’s corpse, which he seeks not with the intention of resurrecting his uncle but draining what remains of his power and stealing his legacy and abilities.

Initiating the first fight with Dhakhan only requires that the player have completed the main story quest The War Within and in this first form he is barely more than a glorified tank-and-spank with a wide vareity of attacks available to him.  However, like other Sentients Dhakhan possesses damage adaptation.  After taking a set amount of damage of a given type Dhakhan will gain 75% resistance to that damage type, with no limit on the amount of damage types he can become resistant to, however his adaptation is temporary and will expire if he does not take damage of that type within a set window.  This will force players to make tactical decisions about how and when to attack the giant serpent and coordinate ahead of battle.

The second fight against Dhakhan requires that players complete both his first fight and also the main story quest The Sacrifice.  In the second iteration of his fight Dhakhan is a Sentient undead, an Eidolon.  His abilities and fight mechanics have been enhanced by this transformation and defeating him will require more precision and organized tactics than before, including the presence of crystalline Eidolon armor across his body, which must be broken with precise attacks on its vulnerable nodes before damage can be dealt to his health bar.  This Eidolon crystal shell will reform after a delay, and must be broken again.

During this fight Dhakhan himself is near-mindless, and only capable of communicating in pained groans and single-word expressions of foggy, far-off emotions and desires.  The majority of dialogue is delivered by the same Sentient version of Natah that also narrates the fight with the Ropalolyst on Jupiter.  Natah will speak cryptically and poetically about her family, and confirm that Dhakhan is indeed a cousin.

“Child of the Old War, Dhakhan was made to seek and destroy.  His purpose from birth was to batter down gates, to crush hope.  He knows only hatred for mankind and hunger for power.”

For his final fight, Dhakhan reappears this time as an Archon and once again his defenses and attacks have been upgraded to require even greater skill and preparation on the players’ part.  New mechanics include attacks which cause repeated raidation and magnetic status procs, cycling stages with different attack patterns, and greatly improved health.   Because of his size and power Dhakhan’s reanimation required several different Archon heads resulting in a mixture of new abilities.  This fight features voice lines from the fragmented mind of Dhakhan, the Lotus, and Pazuul.  This fight requires the player to have completed both previous fights and also the main story quest The New War.  Dialogue reveals that during the occupation of the New War Erra had found Dhakhan’s remains and from them learned of his mission and failure.  Erra sought to harness the power of his dead cousin and hastily created three new Archon heads to reanimate his crippled body: the head of a Bear, Crocodile, and Rhinoceros.

“If Dhakhan had been patient and waited for the New War he may have succeeded in his mission.  But he was arrogant and bloodthirsty, and came to Uranus alone to search for my father.  Now all that remains of his broken mind and twisted body are the aspects that sustain his Archon shards.  The rage of the indomitable Bear, the hunger of the vicious Crocodile, and the stubbornness of the unrelenting Rhinoceros.”

While the head of the Bear is active Dhakhan’s energy will be orange and he will become more durable, taking reduced damage and having improved Adaptation.  While the Bear stage may represent the lowest threat to the players’ survival it will also drastically reduce their ability to damage Dhakhan.

While the head of the Crocodile is active Dhakhan’s energy will be green and he will use his ranged attacks with greater frequency, even using multiple ranged attacks simultaneously and allowing him to cause devastating status procs to players including slash, electric, heat, radiation, and magnetic.  Because of the wide-spread damage of the Crocodile this phase is very risky for players.

While the head of the Rhinoceros is active Dhakhan’s energy will be purple and he will make less use of his ranged attacks and will spend much more time charging at the players and attempting to engage with them at close range with his arms and tail.  Players being targeted by the Rhinoceros should focus on evading his attacks while their teammates spread out and take advantage of the opportunity to deal uncontested damage to Dhakhan.

[reddeadreference]

Blackwater Ledger No. 70

-Click here to return to the index for Newspapers-

This issue is available after completion of the mission: The Bridge to Nowhere

(All article transcripts below the cut)

Articles marked with * are exclusive to this region’s issue.

Articles marked with ** are only there upon completion of the related mission.

Bridge Blown

TERRIFIC EXPLOSION. TRANSPORT DISABLED. MUNITIONS OF WAR UNABLE TO REACH FORT.

A thunderous boom was heard across the valley between New Hanover and Ambarino as the remnants of the Bacchus Bridge fell into the ravine below. The littered wreckage burned white hot and sent smoke billowing skywards. According to local officials, the bridge is thought to have been sabotaged with dynamite, although investigators are not discounting other possibilities. All military supplies destined for Fort Wallace are now idle, including dragoons, a hospital detachment and munitions of war sorely needed in the area.

The driver of a train that passed through there earlier that day reported seeing two men on top of the bridge acting suspiciously but, as yet, they have not been identified. Law enforcement officers have been combing the surrounding area looking for the perpetrators. The governor has ordered the assembly of a large team of workers that will be dispatched to start rebuilding the bridge as soon as possible.

Dynamite Stolen

SEVERAL DEAD. WAGON HIJACKED IN VAN HORN.

A wagon carrying cartridges of dynamite was stolen in a brazen hijacking. When the perpetrators fled, multiple men lay dead or wounded. Onlookers said there was a sufficient amount of the explosive to blow up the largest building in Saint Denis. The shipment originated from the Annesburg mine, which had surplus dynamite. The dynamite was destined for Saint Denis where it was to be sold. As the wagon continued its journey, the driver noticed a man lying down in the road appearing to be sick or badly intoxicated.

The driver ordered the man to move so that they may continue their journey. At that moment, men hiding behind rocks shot and killed the driver and guards. Then they escaped with the wagon. The gang are associated to be immigrants or a rogue gang of Indians. Law enforcement has been searching the area hoping to locate the dynamite before it is used for criminal means such as blowing up a bank safe.

Cornwall Murdered

DRAMATIC DEVELOPMENTS IN STORY OF THE TRAGEDY. ASSASSINS AMBUSH RICH MAN IN ANNESBURG.

The gruesome murder of prominent industrialist Leviticus Cornwall has shocked the country. Members of Congress have called for a special investigation into what is being billed by concerned police as an assassination. Arriving via boat for a business meeting in Annesburg, Cornwall was set upon by assassins who killed him stone dead. The worried authorities worked in vain to trail the violent murderers, who fled after a dangerous gun battle.

Many of Cornwall's private guards and local lawmen took part in the furious exchange of hot lead. The identities of the evil murderers are still entirely unknown. Mr. Cornwall was building a significant presence in the area, having recently bought a stake in the local coalmine which was previously operated by the Jameson Mining Company.

Indeed, he provided employment throughout the country and it is entirely unthinkable why anyone would seek his death as his businesses have put biscuits on the table and provisions in the larder for thousands of families. The most thorough investigations was made shortly after the commission of the crime, but officials could not produce evidence strong enough to prove motive for this awful killing of a fine American.

Van Der Linde Gang Close To Capture

INFAMOUS KILLERS WILL SOON BE CAPTURED. AUTHORITIES SAY THEY ARE CLOSE.

Authorities and the Pinkerton Detective Agency say they are very close to having Dutch van der Linde and his gang in custody and they should be lodged in jail by the end of the month. The gang was responsible for the infamous boat robbery in Blackwater and have left a trail of death and destruction wherever they pass. They have held up trains, stolen wagons and livestock, and even attempted to rob a bank.

The gang of thieves is believed to be thinning in numbers as internal squabbles and gun fights with the law have taken out several members.

Army General Praises Troops

CITES QUICK VICTORY IN SPANISH AMERICAN WAR.

General Edwin Forsythe praised a large assembly of troops in Washington DC yesterday, citing their quick victory over the Spanish in as little as ten weeks. He said there is no larger might in the world than the United States Army and Navy. "The Treaty of Paris stands as proof that no country dare challenge the United States. Our men fight strong and brave and for God and Country."

After the procession, reporters asked Mr. Forsythe about the recent problems with corrupt regiments including those at West Ridge, some in Hawaii and, some argue, Fort Wallace in our region. Forsythe indicated that these were extremely isolated incidents that occur when decentralized regiments operate in remote areas. However, he said that the vast majority of men who serve in the United States Army are honest and true.

Weekly Round Up

Raccoon and possum hunting is a great sport for young boys.

Theodore and Maude Hammond are better as of this writing after the wagon accident last month.

Cecil, son of Mattie Hubert, is battling chills and biliousness.

Some boys up on the hill loaded up on mean corn whisky and held a jubilee last weekend.

On account of illness, Rev. T Virgil Gosnell failed to meet his appointment to speak at the service of Imma Jean Minson.

Electric lights are beginning to show up in cities across America.

Misses Addie Neally and Beatrice Thacker, the gayest of friends, are back home after their theater tour of Two Sets of Curtains.

Flora, little daughter of Virginia Lamb, died Tuesday evening after contracting a sickness last month. She has gone to join her older sister Ruby who passed three weeks prior.

Lottie Van Pelt, who has been sick with malarial fever for quite some time, cannot expect to last much longer.

Mrs. Blanche Gorman is the guest of Mrs. Mamie Boatwright this week.

Money Like Water

NEW YORK BECOMES LAND OF OPULENCE. PRIVATE BALLS ABOUND.

New York is now one of the world's most opulent cities as titans of industry and manufacturing build vast mansions and hold fabulous balls to show their latest architectural prize. Expensive black carriages are on parade each day between four and five p.m. as the wealthy have their coachmen drive them through the Central Park as astonished onlookers watch. Enormous stores taking over an entire city block have been erected, one having 125 departments for everything from toys to telegraphy.

A facility for local guttersnipes and street Arabs has been opened by a local titan of industry. The hotels in New York have become lavish beyond description, with wives renting enormous suites for society parties. New York's wealthy social circles are truly in full swing, and the attending industries that serve their pleasure report record business.

Truly, for those who can afford gold, this is a true Golden Age. Some, however, point out the brutal poverty that greets most immigrants just a few miles from these palaces in lower Manhattan.

An Odd Discovery

SCIENTISTS EXPLORE PUZZLEMENT.

Unusual interest is manifesting by geological students over the discovery of a skeleton that appears to be partially human also equine. A prominent paleontologist from Yale has been summoned to Big Valley to investigate the site that contains bones and ancient debris that have confounded locals.

The site, just south of Armadillo, contains the remains of a woman and also the head of a common donkey, leaving experts to wonder if they came from one beast or if an animal attacked and dismembered both a woman and her donkey and dragged the sections elsewhere.

Contamination **

WATER UNDRINKABLE. BIZARRE SICKNESS SPREADS

Roanoke towns are often plagued with poverty, superstition and maladies, but after deformities began to appear among residents of rural Butcher Creek, the townspeople say the area may be cursed. Contaminants were found and some accuse the Roanoke Mountain Fuel Company of fouling the local drinking water, resulting in large goiters, rashes, sores and psychosis.

The symptoms also point to lead poisoning similar to those seen in plumbers and painters, with victims becoming unusually pale and weak. The eponymously named creek and Elysian Pool are polluted, though residents will not seek action against the mining company, and are instead seeking a spiritual solution to their problems.

The Art of Angling by Jeremy Gill

NORTHERN PIKE.

Pike are the angry prince of most lakes and rivers. My favorite trophy Pike was caught off the coast of Ireland. Having already established a remarkable reputation, upon returning to the tiny village with a 39 inch Pike, the townspeople hallooed and escorted me to a delightful pub where a lovely girl sat on my lap and played the bodhrán singing a limerick about my angling skills as her mother cooked the fish into a meal shared with everyone.

They even opened a church in my honor. If you plan on catching a Northern Pike as they are called here, try a river lure when it is a bit dull outside. You know, I think of that delightful Irish maiden every time I fish the Grizzlies.

[recordspinner]

More lore for my original universe, the Gold Band Universe.

Project Huracàn, named after the Eastern Meddian word for hurricane, was a program originating from the Meddian Marine Corps before spreading to the rest of the Allied Systems following the Charmundan Empire’s attack and the beginning of the Fourth Galactic War. It was a program to develop super soldiers, specifically ones capable of controlling and surviving high-stress exoskeleton armor that would shatter the skeletons of regular, non-enhanced soldiers. Candidates were originally picked from dragon bipeds who had either bird or dragon quadruped paternal parentage, due to the mix of available muscle mass and strong bone structures, though this restriction was later dropped following advancements in bone reinforcement tech and a focus on the minds of their trainees rather than their bodies, which was something that the opposing Ghost program in the Charmundan Army would fail to recognise.

Huracàns would undergo surgeries to reinforce and strengthen their muscles, and nanites would slowly build carbon fiber cages around their bones to give them the necessary strength to withstand the massive pressures expected of them. The latest in artificial optics and sensory processing tech gave them unmatched reaction times, and intense training allowed their skills to match their bodies. After the enhancements, members of the program were able to lift over 1 ton in weight, and that was before the armor enhanced this by more than six times. Personal shields were not yet available, but the armor was thick and well-designed enough that they weren’t necessary.

They were typically assigned to orbital drop teams, though they were given other special operations assignments, often returning from missions with near-zero survival chances with no casualties and disturbingly wide smiles. Though one of the most successful uses of a super soldier was one squad in the 213th Mixed Infantry Regiment. Consisting of one Dragon Quadruped Superheavy Infantry Unit equipped with a light tank autocannon, a combat engineer, a combat medic, a special/explosive/antiair weapons officer, a Huracàn squad leader, and a Ghost defector, Stoic Squadron operated from 405 till the war’s end in 410, suffering no combat losses (though this would not be obvious to most of the team, as during their final mission, their medic was wounded badly enough that they believed her to be dead, despite her survival against the odds. They would be reunited in 418, and it’s notable that the squad has formed into three married couples as of today). The famous holo-painting, “The Ghost Who Turned”, depicts the defector Ghost of this team slaughtering his former comrades following the wounding of the squad’s medic. Another holo-painting, “The Emperor’s Last Tea Party”, depicts Huracàn sniper Maxor “Max” Griffith’s plasma bolt just before making impact with the Charmundan Emperor’s skull, hovering above the table of sandwiches and tea.

The first stage of the program ended in 412, and the second stage, Huracàn 2, began a few months later. Huracàn 2 marked the end of the organic super soldier, opting instead to use synths, due to their durability, ability to install and adapt to new hardware incredibly easily, improved training simulation immersion, and plug-and-play adaptability to the exoskeleton armor. By now, microreactors and shield generators were small enough to install in the suits. Synths can go months or even years without leaving them, charging off of the on-board power supply and having their waste removed and disposed of discretely. Candidates are chosen from already exclusive special forces units and undergo intense training simulations, including uses of WMD, wounded combat, and close quarters fighting. Proficiency in unusual and scavenged weapons is incredibly important, as trainees are expected to run out of ammo for their issued weapons early on in long-term operations. Though organic soldiers remain among the Huracàn ranks, they are few, and those that remain are living legends to the next generation. It’s safe to say that the future of advanced warfare is in good hands.